When Kurt wakes up again it’s almost noon and the room is bathed in blinding sunlight, so different from the one he woke up to for the first time a few hours ago. He blinks his eyes open, feeling blissful and rested, his skin still tingling from Blaine’s touch – from warm fingers mapping each part of his body, exploring with a tenderness that Kurt doesn’t think he has ever felt before. He stretches and reaches out his own hand with a sleepy smile on his lips, ready to brush his fingertips over Blaine’s bare chest or arms. Just to make his own skin tingle even more, to make that delicious itch seep even deeper into his body.

Except the other side of the bed is empty.

Kurt sits up, confused, and looks around, suddenly terrified that it was all just his imagination, that he once again had a dream of Blaine coming back, only to wake up in an empty bed with an empty feeling in his heart. But the other side of the bed still feels warm under his hand, the sheets are more tangled than usually, and finally he notices that there’s a pile of clothes on the chair next to the bed: a red cardigan and a pair of dark jeans that Kurt remembers were lying on the floor last night, hastily thrown off.

He blushes with just the memory of it, like he’s back to being a silly teenager – and then he hears the singing. The door to his bedroom is ajar, and someone is singing in the kitchen, a soft melody echoing through the apartment, too muffled for Kurt to recognize the song but loud enough to make him realize that this isn’t another dream. This is real, the man who’s singing in the kitchen and whose clothes are folded haphazardly on the chair is real – and oh, Kurt is starting to think he likes this version of real a lot, probably even more than those dreams of his.

He feels his mouth turn into a silly grin as he kicks the comforter off, instantly shivering when the air hits his naked skin. He fishes a pair of underwear from the floor – they look familiar, so they are probably his – and quickly pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a loose hoodie as well, rolling up the sleeves. The floor is cold under his bare feet, but it’ll probably be warmer in the kitchen, in more ways than one, so he makes his way to the hallway and pads quietly to the kitchen doorway.

A weird sense of déjà vu hits him as soon as he sees the scene in his kitchen. The radio is playing Van Morrison quietly, an older song that Kurt remembers his dad and Carole danced to in their living room one evening when he was still in high school. The singer’s voice is deep and relaxing, full of adoration and love, and the words – when I’m with you again, you just steal my heart away – make a fond smile tug at the corners of Kurt’s lips. His coffee machine is humming on the counter and a pan full of bacon and eggs is sizzling on the stove, the voices drowned under the music.

And then there’s Blaine, Blaine in his bright red boxer-briefs and the bowtie apron wrapped loosely around his body. He’s wearing nothing else, and his tanned skin is almost glowing in the sunlight, his muscles moving as he sways to the music. His back is to Kurt, the strings of the apron hanging over his ass, and Kurt just wants to reach out, map those lines and curves of Blaine’s bare skin all over again by himself, wants to memorize them just in case this turns out to be a dream anyway, a wonderful dream that could never be real because things like this just don’t happen to Kurt Hummel.

They don’t. They never do.

Kurt almost reaches down to pinch the back of his hand to see if he will wake up, but he settles for just blinking his eyes a few times, expecting to see some sort of a thick fog that clears everything away – but instead he just keeps seeing the same scene even more clearly as his eyes adjust. Blaine doesn’t disappear. He’s still there, still half-naked, still showing so much skin, still wearing that ridiculous apron that Kurt had labeled as Blaine’s after the first time he wore it, still singing Van Morrison under his breath, still real.

Still someone Kurt can touch, still someone whose touch makes Kurt feel complete and safe, and maybe things like this do happen to him every once in a while after all.

Kurt blinks his eyes once more, just to get the sudden dampness to go away. Then he crosses the room and wraps his arms around Blaine from behind, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder and standing as close to him as he can, feeling the warmth of his skin against his own arms. Blaine startles at first, but then he laughs, surprised and pleased, and continues to move his hips to the music, forcing Kurt to sway with him.

“Morning,” he sing-songs as he flips the bacon on the pan.

“Extraordinarily good morning,” Kurt replies, nuzzling the back of Blaine’s neck. “Aren’t you cold? I feel cold just from watching you.”

Blaine shakes his head. “Nope. Your bed is so warm that I feel like I’m going to be carrying that warmth with me for the rest of the day.”

Kurt hums and closes his eyes. It’s weirdly domestic, in a different way than they were when Blaine was still his bodyguard. Back then there were all those distances and curtains and doubts between them, like physical barriers that stopped them from touching each other like this, and Kurt didn’t even dare to imagine that he could someday hold a half-naked Blaine in his arms in the middle of his own kitchen. They were friends, in the end, and there was always something more, something hiding beneath the surface, both of them just too afraid of everything to let it show – but Kurt still didn’t dare to hope for this. It was too fragile, too easily taken away from him.

But he can hope now. He can hope that he can keep this.

“You can’t seem to stop touching me,” Blaine says after a while, still stirring the eggs on the pan.

Kurt can hear the smile in Blaine’s voice, so he just leans a little closer and hums again. “I thought you said you didn’t mind?”

“I don’t, of course I don’t,” Blaine answers. He turns the stove off, moves the pan away from the heat and then turns around in Kurt’s arms so that they’re facing each other. “I just... Are you sure everything is alright? With... us and this new relationship thing?”

Blaine’s eyes are bright and worried, and Kurt is suddenly reminded of what made him stop and look at Blaine more closely the first time they met. The kindness in his eyes is still there, the way he seems to read Kurt’s face, see behind his protective words and walls without any effort. Kurt has often found it unnerving when people search his face; it makes him want to turn away and say something biting, downplay everything – but with Blaine standing so close to him he realizes that this time he doesn’t want to be anything but honest.

“It’s just... I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone again,” he whispers.

Blaine’s eyebrows furrow in concern and sadness, and Kurt hastens to continue. “I know why you left in the first place, I do, and I don’t blame you or anything, it’s not that, I just...” He thinks for a moment, trying to find the exact reason why he’s so afraid. “I think there’s a part of me that’s just waiting for you to say that you have a job back in Ohio, and as glad as I would be for you I can’t... I don’t want to lose you anymore, not after everything. Maybe that’s selfish when we’ve only been boyfriends for a few hours, and god, that really does sound pretty mean and demanding, but I don’t want to –”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupts, framing Kurt’s face with his hands. His smile is a little exasperated but so incredibly loving that it takes Kurt’s breath away. “Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’ve already applied for a job in New York?”

Kurt’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“I didn’t want to assume anything, but I decided that I want to stay in New York, no matter what happened between us,” Blaine explains. “I mean I was hoping for this, of course I was, but even if you had told me to leave and never come back I would’ve still stayed in the city because I’ve... Because I’ve always wanted to live here. Ever since high school. I just never had the guts to do it.” Blaine blinks his eyes and ducks his head with a blush. “So I... Wes knows this teacher who works in a middle school around here, and their music teacher is actually going on maternity leave soon, and they... I applied for the job. I don’t know if I’ll get it, but I’ve also applied for practically every music teacher job that I could find in this area. I – I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous or anything –”

It’s Kurt’s turn to interrupt Blaine, and he does it by pressing his lips against Blaine’s and swallowing the words that are about to come out of his mouth. Blaine’s eyelids flutter closed in surprise and he practically melts against Kurt, his muscles loosening under Kurt’s hands and his body bending back a little when Kurt tilts his head and deepens the kiss. The touch of Blaine’s skin under his lips and hands makes Kurt’s whole body tingle again in the best possible way, as if Blaine’s touch is a flame running through his skin cells, an ember he doesn’t want to put out.

Eventually Kurt pulls away, his lips instantly aching from the loss of contact. “You’re not going back to Ohio then?” he asks, his voice low.

“No,” Blaine breathes out, blinking his eyes open. He licks his lips and gives a small smile. “I’m... I’m staying here. If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Kurt laughs, resting his forehead against Blaine’s shoulder. “I literally can’t stop touching you, that should tell you how okay it is. And I did mean it when I said that I’m never saying goodbye to you again. Just... Blaine, you graduated.” Kurt lifts his head, staring into Blaine’s eyes, the realization suddenly hitting him. “Oh my god. You graduated. You stopped being a bodyguard, went back to college and got your diploma and then you came back here and you... You did everything you said you wanted to do. God, Blaine – I can’t believe I forgot to say this last night, but I honestly couldn’t be happier for you. And I’m so, so proud of you. And of the fact that I get to be with you.”

Blaine’s breath hitches, and Kurt can see the way his eyes are shining, how the unshed tears are pooling in Blaine’s eyes until one of them breaks free and slips down his cheek. Kurt lifts his hand to brush it away, a little mesmerized by the fact that they managed to go from half-naked cooking to tears in such a short time. Blaine lets out a small laugh.

“I’m so happy that I don’t have to be your bodyguard anymore, Kurt,” he chokes out. “That I can just... be myself. Just Blaine.”

“I’m happy for that as well,” Kurt whispers and leans in to press a small kiss on Blaine’s cheek, right on the tear track still visible on his skin. “I quite like this just Blaine.”

Blaine makes a choking sound at the back of his throat and then his arms are scrambling to wrap themselves more tightly around Kurt, holding on to the fabric of Kurt’s hoodie like they never want to let go. Blaine burrows his face in Kurt’s shoulder, clinging to him with his whole body, and Kurt lets him, running his own hands up and down Blaine’s naked back until he rests them above the curve of Blaine’s ass, playing with the strings of the apron and pressing another small kiss on Blaine’s bare shoulder. Blaine is warm and real in his arms, the radio is playing a soft song behind them, and the way sunlight is sliding across Blaine’s skin makes the whole moment feel so real, so unbelievably precious, that Kurt doesn’t even stop to think when the words come out of his mouth:

“I want you to move in with me.”

Blaine lifts his head in surprise. He slowly untangles his arms and leans back against the counter, searching Kurt’s face. “W-what?” he hiccups, blinking the tears from his eyes.

“I... I want you to move in with me,” Kurt repeats, a bit more hesitantly this time, the small distance between him and Blaine making him wonder if this was the right thing to say after all. “I don’t know where you’d thought you were going live in New York, but I’d like you to live here. With me.”

“Kurt...” Blaine starts, tilting his head. “Are... are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, we just figured things out last night. I don’t want us to take this too fast and then regret it later.”

“I don’t want to take things slow anymore,” Kurt says, echoing the words Blaine said last night. “We basically took things slow for months, and I don’t want that anymore. I... I already got used to having you here when you were my bodyguard. To waking up next to you and sitting with you in the living room and making dinner with you. Together.” Kurt reaches down to take Blaine’s hand, clasping it tightly. “It’s... It’s so lonely here without you, Blaine. And I understand if you don’t want to move in yet, if you want to take it slowly... but I know that I want this. I want you here.”

He hadn’t actually even thought about it before the words came out of his mouth – the idea of Blaine living with him had been just a fleeting image in those dreams he had every night before yesterday – but now that he stops and looks at Blaine, it feels... right. It feels like home, like Blaine belongs in this apartment with him. The bowtie apron is Blaine’s, that corner of the guestroom where Blaine’s punching bag used to hang is Blaine’s, that one spot on the sofa where Blaine used to sit with his guitar or with his laptop and books is Blaine’s, and Kurt doesn’t want this apartment to be only his anymore. He wants to share it again, wants to have voices and someone else’s presence in his apartment again, wants to invite Wes and Sarah and Rachel over to his and Blaine’s place, wants to experience the utter and complete joy of waking up next to Blaine every single morning.

“I...” Blaine ducks his head with a soft laugh, amazed and unbelieving. “My dorm room never felt like home.”

Kurt bends down until he can meet Blaine’s eyes. “And this apartment feels empty without you here,” he admits quietly.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and then Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand. “Are you absolutely sure that’s what you want?” he murmurs. Always so careful, always making sure that Kurt is okay.

“I am,” Kurt assures him, his heart beating loudly inside his chest, full of hopes and trepidation. “Is that... What do you want?”

Blaine lifts his head, and the look in his shining eyes is something Kurt has only seen once or twice before – something soft and fond and brave and full of Blaine, full of love, and Kurt doesn’t care if it’s too soon to start thinking about love, that’s what he feels and sees when he looks into Blaine’s eyes, and he’s not going to ignore it, not anymore.

Blaine tugs at his hand. “I’m crazy about you, Kurt.”

Kurt bounces on the balls of his feet a little, not able to contain the joy that hearing those words from Blaine’s mouth gives to him. A shy grin makes its way to his lips. “Is that the answer I hope it is?”

“I... Yes,” Blaine says, shaking his head with a laugh. “Yes, Kurt, yes – I’d love to move in with you. It’s not like I have any other apartments waiting for me or anything.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kurt asks one more time. “Like, one-hundred percent, without any doubts or second-guesses?”

“Yes,” Blaine repeats. His thumb moves over Kurt’s knuckles as he leans in, pressing his forehead against Kurt’s. All Kurt can see is Blaine’s eyelashes, shivering against Blaine’s cheeks as he closes his eyes for a moment. “This city, this apartment... It feels like home to me.”

Kurt giggles, the sound breathless and a bit watery. He can’t help it, not when this is definitely not a dream anymore, not a silly hope he has in his heart for his future or a romantic wish he makes in the middle of the night when his bed feels cold and lonely.

“I think you just went from being my ex-bodyguard to my friend to my lover to my boyfriend and to my roommate. All in less than twelve hours. Impressive,” he jokes.

Blaine laughs. “As long as I can be your roommate and boyfriend at the same time.”

“Don’t forget that you’re still my lover as well,” Kurt says, still joking, but the joke turns into reality when Blaine’s eyes darken suddenly, making the ember inside Kurt turn into a full-blown fire. Blaine leans closer, kissing him slowly, and Kurt’s hands instinctively reach behind Blaine, starting to open the strings of his apron and pressing against the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes, lover,” Blaine murmurs against his lips, his own hands slipping under Kurt’s hoodie, warm and sure, and oh, isn’t that a much nicer nickname than Mr. Hummel, especially if it’s followed by Blaine pressing Kurt closer to himself and his lips moving from Kurt’s lips to his neck.

Kurt groans in frustration. “Were you in the boy scouts or something?”

Blaine’s lips stop. “Excuse me?” he asks, amused.

“It’s... This knot.” Kurt pulls at the apron’s strings, the knot still annoyingly tightly in place, securing the apron around Blaine’s body when Kurt would very much like to have it off and gone right at this moment. “Did you glue it together or what?”

Blaine laughs again, but then he stops, pulling away from Kurt. “Wait, I forgot!”

Kurt reluctantly lets go of Blaine, who turns around and holds up the pan of bacon and eggs that Kurt had already forgotten.

“I made breakfast,” Blaine says with a goofy smile.

Kurt shakes his head with a sigh. “Blaine, breakfast isn’t exactly my top priority right now.”

“No, I know, but I don’t want it to get cold,” Blaine explains. He steers Kurt backwards until they reach the dining table and gently sits him down in one of the chairs. “Just... Let’s eat breakfast. Together. And then I can get rid of this apron – and the boxers,” he adds with an exaggerated wink, “– and you can get rid of all those unnecessary layers and we can continue that thing we just started.” He bends down to give Kurt’s lips a quick peck before dancing back to the stove and starting to move the food on two plates.

“You are ridiculous,” Kurt comments, touching his lips gently with a small smile when Blaine isn’t looking. He leans back in his chair after that and watches the way Blaine is moving across the kitchen, picking up two bagels and some cream cheese and humming under his breath, and it’s so damn domestic, all this teasing and kissing, this full version of Blaine, that Kurt feels like he should take a photograph of this moment, of this first morning they have as a couple, without any professional relationships or curtains between them.

“Here you go,” Blaine sing-songs, putting the other plate in front of Kurt and startling him from his thoughts. It smells delicious, and Kurt can’t even remember the last time someone made him breakfast. Blaine sits down next to him with his own plate, and then reaches out his hand to take Kurt’s, holding them together over the table and anchoring them to each other.

“Blaine,” Kurt says. “I kind of need both of my hands to eat.”

“It’s just bacon and eggs and a bagel. I’m sure you’ll manage with just one hand,” Blaine answers, the goofy smile still on his face. “Besides... I kind of can’t stop touching you either.”

Kurt smiles, ducking his head. “Alright. Just... Less talking, more eating. I seem to recall we have something we should finish after breakfast.”

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand. “Don’t worry. We have all the time in the world.”

Kurt squeezes back, his whole body feeling warm under Blaine’s gaze.

Yeah. We do now.