Saturdays are supposed to be a break. Saturdays are supposed to be lazy, or spent tickling Amelia, or trying out a new recipe, or maybe even getting the apartment cleaned up, which is a daunting task when you have a five year old.

Saturdays are not supposed to be spent at work figuring out what his stupid interns screwed up this time. Especially not when this Saturday happens to be his birthday.

Kurt sighs and slumps back in his desk chair, more annoyed with himself than anything. It doesn’t even matter, but he can’t help but be disappointed by how today has turned out - birthdays are more a chore than anything now, just a reminder of getting old instead of something to be excited about. Amelia hadn’t remembered, though he doesn’t blame her for that, she still gets confused about when her own birthday is (they’re still working on calendars.) She has refused to talk to him much that morning, actually, too focused on whispering various things that he hadn’t been able to hear in Blaine’s ear. Still, he had hoped for at least a little more than the standard slew of well wishes on Facebook. Maybe a call from Rachel. Speaking of which…

He reaches for his phone and finds her number on speed dial. Maybe a talk with his best friend will cheer him up - though she really should have called him first, he calls her on every single birthday like a best friend should. It takes a stupidly long time for her to pick up.

“Kurt! Hello!” She chirps, sounding out of breath. “And how are you on this beautiful day?”

It can hardly be called beautiful with the heavy gray sky and the sleet making the roads unpleasant, but apparently, no one told her that. “Awful. Please save me from my pity party,” he moans.

“Oh, I’m sorry. No one should have to go into work on their day off on their birthday.”

How she knows all that he has no idea, but Rachel is a little creepy about knowing every intimate detail of his life or demanding it if she doesn’t know already, so he lets it slide. “Do you think my thighs can survive me eating an entire ice cream cake tonight? Be honest.”

“No no no, don’t do that,” she says quickly. “Er, I mean, don’t wallow that much.”

“You’re probably right.” In the background, he hears movement and a voice he can’t really make out. A man’s voice - oh, god, he totally called her while she has a guy over. Wonderful. With his luck, it’ll be Finn or Jesse St. James or someone else equally mortifying. “Well, I can tell you have company, so I won’t keep you.”

“What? Oh, right, company!” She laughs, too high pitched. Kurt frowns. “Right, lots of company. At my house. Where I am right now.”

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy! Hey, so, I have to go, but happy birthday!”

“Thank you, so I guess I’ll see you…“ All sound cuts off abruptly. Kurt pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it. “…Later.” He sighs and tosses it back on his desk, slouching back in his chair.

With any luck - he almost laughs, what luck? - his birthday will be over quickly.

---

“I’m home.” He moves on autopilot - coat on the coatrack, keys on the bowl on the kitchen counter, shuffling through without really seeing anything as he enters the apartment. “Please tell me you didn’t burn the house down while I was gone…” As he steps into the kitchen, he is greeted with nothing but silence. “Amelia?” He calls out, panic starting to worm its way into his voice.

“Surprise!” From behind the blue curtains that cover the glass door, Amelia jumps out and shrieks at the top of her lungs, making Kurt jump an inch in the air, yelping ‘ohmyGOD.’ Immediately after her, two more figures jump out, calling out surprise as well, though not as loud as Amelia’s ear-piercing scream was - it’s Rachel and Blaine, he realizes, after the shower of glittering confetti that the three of them throw stops hiding them from view. “Happy birthday, Daddy!” Amelia beams up at him.

“I. But. What?” Only then does Kurt see the decorations, three bright construction paper chains taped to the ceiling and framing the room, and of course confetti everywhere (mostly pooled around Blaine, Amelia, and Rachel’s feet.)

“It’s a surprise party, Daddy!” Amelia says proudly. She runs up and wraps her arms around his legs, hugging him tight and nearly throwing him off balance.

“For me? Did you plan this?” Kurt looks at Rachel, feeling overwhelmed.

She grins and shakes her head, a few pieces of pink confetti falling from her hair. “No, it was all Amelia! She came up with the idea, and then got Blaine in on it and had him call me.”

And she managed to keep it secret? Kurt blinks down at Amelia in amazement, and she just beams back.

“Do you like it?” Blaine asks, and Kurt almost startles at the sound of his voice, silent until just now. He looks a little nervous, his eyes wide as he looks at Kurt.

“Of course, I just, I didn’t think anyone remembered. Or, you know, cared.” Something dawns on him. “That’s why you were so eager for me to get out of the house this morning.”

“Guilty.” Blaine ducks his head, smiling shyly. Sometimes Kurt forgets what his smile looks like, it happens so rarely, but when he does, it still makes him melt a little. Kurt shakes his head, still a little shell-shocked. Amelia tugs on his hand, and when he looks down at her, she holds something out to him. “It’s for you,” she says with a toothy grin.

It’s a crown, cut out of bright-yellow construction paper. On the front is written Happy Birthday Daddy in Amelia’s five-year-old handwriting, more than a few of the letters backwards (including the Ds so that it really says Dabby, but he gets the idea.) He grins as he perches the paper crown on top of his head, being careful of his perfectly styled hair� - hey, having a terrible day is no excuse for looking terrible. “How do I look?”

“Fabulous, of course.” Rachel grins. “Okay, Miss Amelia, what’s next on the agenda?”

“Cake!” She jumps up and down, effectively showing that she truly does not need cake in her system.

“Before dinner, Amelia?” Kurt raises his eyebrows. Ugh, dinner, he hadn’t even had time to plan a meal.

As if reading his mind, Blaine steps in. “Not to worry, there’s Chinese on the kitchen counter.” Kurt hadn’t even noticed it. “Figured you wouldn’t want to cook.” Blaine shrugs.

“You are my favorite people,” Kurt declares, kneeling down to give Amelia a kiss on the cheek. The look he catches on Blaine’s face - the tiniest smile, maybe even a hint of color to his cheeks - makes Kurt’s heart stutter.

“Okay. Food.” Blaine claps his hands and goes into the kitchen, pulling various cartons of Chinese food and setting them on the counter. Amelia follows behind him, standing on her tippy-toes to try to get a finger full of the icing that covers the lopsided chocolate cake just out of her reach. Blaine reaches back and bats her hands away. “After you eat all your vegetables, Amelia.”

“But Papaaaa…”

“Out, you.” She pouts, but doesn’t try again.

A voice sounds from behind him, and Kurt forces his gaze away from the kitchen, away from Blaine. “Sooo, what do you think?” Rachel asks eagerly, smoothing out the hideous skirt she wears as she sits down on the couch. Kurt follows suit.

“I didn’t know you were on speaking terms with Blaine,” he says in place of an answer.

Rachel shrugs. “I wasn’t really, until now, but he called this morning and mentioned that you might want me to come over. Making a cake and decorating and taking care of Amelia might have been a bit much to deal with anyway.” Kurt has to agree - she’s enough to deal with when you don’t have other things to do. “It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, actually, he was perfectly polite. He seems to be doing well today. I mean, judging by what you’ve told me.”

Kurt twists his head to look at Blaine, piling paper plates high with fried rice and eggrolls. Vegetarian, by the looks of it, which is the only kind Kurt will order when it comes to Chinese takeout, after a nasty bout of food poisoning years ago. Apparently, Blaine remembers, too - that shouldn’t make his heart flip-flop the way it does, but, well. “Yeah. Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” His eyes are bright and alert in a way Kurt isn’t used to seeing, and he’s quicker to smile. It’s slow going, but it seems like the counseling sessions are helping somewhat. He’s reluctant to talk to Kurt some days, but Naomi has told him that Blaine is opening up more easily every week.

“Maybe you really are helping him.”

In the kitchen, Amelia says something that Kurt can’t quite make out, but it makes Blaine laugh softly, looking at his daughter with tender eyes. He doesn’t know why all this is overwhelming him so much, this simple gesture of kindness, but it is. Maybe because this is the first glimpse of Blaine he has seen in ages, the real Blaine that would throw childish, impromptu birthday parties without a second thought. His Blaine. No, not mine, he corrects himself, but the sentiment is the same. “Maybe.”

---

Food is consumed quickly, little conversation passing between the four of them. Even Amelia eats every bite on her plate with the promise of cake looming over them. And a glorious cake it is, reportedly made by Amelia with help from Rachel. She’s very proud of it, and as they all sit around the coffee table in the living room eating it, Kurt can’t stop smiling.

“That was wonderful, Amelia,” Kurt says, wiping his fingers off on a napkin and straightening the paper crown on his head. “By far the best birthday party yet.”

“Not done yet!” She says, muffled through a mouthful of cake, a few brown crumbs sticking to her face until Blaine wipes them away with his napkin.

Kurt raises his eyebrows and glances around the room, as if the paper chains offer some clue to her next surprise. “What more could there possibly be?”

Amelia swallows and then leans over to Blaine, whispering something into his ear. When he nods, she jumps up and yells, “Dance party!” Kurt stares as Rachel presses play on the stereo, some dance tune he vaguely recognizes from years ago booming over the speakers. “Come on, Daddy, dance!”

“Yeah, Kurt, dance!” Rachel teases.

“Oh my god!” He half-groans, half-laughs. Amelia tugs on his hand to pull him up. Her version of dancing consists mostly of jumping up and down, sometimes spinning in circles, laughing all the while. Kurt can’t remember the last time he danced, and he isn’t sure what to do at first. Rachel pulls Blaine up off the couch before dancing over to Kurt, grabbing his hand and twirling herself in a circle.

“Loosen up!” She grins. “Come on, I’ve seen your moves.”

“Rachel….”

“Dance, daddy!” Amelia has Blaine bouncing around with her, and he looks just as unsure as Kurt does. Kurt catches Blaine’s eye and grins, finally giving in to the upbeat, absurdly catchy song and shimmying his shoulders, going right back to all his default dance moves. Some things never change. Blaine laughs, and when Amelia tries to twirl him in a circle he goes along with it, even crouching down to duck under her arm.

It’s ridiculous and more fun than Kurt can remember having in years, and soon he loses track of how long they’ve been dancing as the song gives way to a new one, and then another, an entire playlist of dance music. He stays close to Rachel, playfully grinding up on her until they both dissolve into fits of giggles - he doesn’t quite dare to try to dance with Blaine. Amelia goes back and forth between the three of them, not letting anyone be left out of the fun.

It’s as if he’s stepped into the past, back when life was music and dancing and all of his problems were much smaller, and he gives into it completely.

---

Eventually, Rachel has to head home (after an attempted impromptu singalong to Push It, which Kurt has to put a premature end to, for fear of the wrath of the old lady in the apartment above him), and Amelia’s eyes are drooping as she yawns. Blaine scoops her up into his arms to take her to bed, despite her insistence that she isn’t sleepy.

“Was it the best birthday, Daddy?” She mumbles, half asleep and snuggled up close to Blaine.

“The best ever. I love you, sweetheart.” he says. He kisses her forehead and smoothes her hair back, and she sighs happily as Blaine takes her back to her room.

“See you soon?” Rachel asks, buttoning up her coat.

“Of course. Come over anytime.”

Once she leaves, Kurt collapses on the couch, not even bothering to turn off the music, just lying there in the suddenly empty room. It was a good birthday after all.

Kurt opens his eyes when he hears footsteps, Blaine reentering the room. “That was quick.”

“Yeah, she was out as soon as she hit the pillow. For once.”

“Thanks.”

Blaine waves a hand. “I thought this might be a nice moment for champagne or wine or something, but I figured you wouldn’t appreciate it.” His smile is lopsided, but quickly disappears when he sees Kurt flinch. “Oh. Too soon?”

“A little.” To be honest, even the smell of alcohol makes him gag a little.

“Sorry.”

�He starts picking up the paper plates they’d opted to eat off, scooping up the mess that Amelia had made. “Oh, let me help.” Kurt pushes himself up.

“Hm?” Blaine glances up. “Oh, no, I got it, don’t worry.”

“I don’t mind -“

“You’re not cleaning up after your own birthday party. Seriously, don’t get up!”

Kurt lets himself fall back down onto the couch with a light thump. “Goodness. I’m not used to this.” He watches as Blaine wanders around the room, cleaning as he goes. The music playing over the speakers is softer now, going from the bouncy dance numbers to something a bit gentler, and Kurt can’t remember feeling more relaxed, his feet propped up and his arms behind his head, eyes following Blaine’s every movement. When he bends over to pick up what confetti he can, his t-shirt rides up on his back, exposing a thin strip of skin. Kurt’s throat is suddenly dry. “Why?” He blurts out, and when Blaine gives him a quizzical look, he elaborates. “I mean, why did you go to all this trouble just for my birthday?”

“It’s really no big deal.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but - I don’t know, I just don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? Just trying to be nice.” The irony is not lost on Kurt; this cynical man who has been screwed over by his loved ones over and over, unable to understand the concept of not doing something just to be nice. Kurt is still a little baffled, if only by Blaine’s apparent whole-hearted involvement in the endeavor - yes, they’re on speaking terms, but he can’t say they’re on the best terms even now. Blaine turns around and shrugs, still having trouble meeting Kurt’s eyes. “No, I… well, for one thing, I’m having a good day, as far as, you know, that goes for me, so I wanted to do something with it. And Amelia really, really wanted to do this for you - most of it was her idea. And I know I’ve been… a lot to deal with lately, so…” The way he mumbles and stammers makes it impossible to stop the dazed grin spreading on Kurt’s face. “It’s not much, but I wanted to do something to say… thanks. For putting up with my bullshit.”

Days like this are the best and the worst, Kurt decides. Of course, happy Blaine is wonderful, and a bit like an expensive treat that you only get on special occasions. It makes it too easy to imagine that they’ve gone back to happier times. And of course, that is the very reason days like these are also the worst. Because back in happier times, Kurt would have pulled Blaine into a kiss without thinking twice. Maybe pressed him into the couch cushions and held him down and - no, he can’t think that way anymore, but days like this make that hard. Such a huge part of his life has been spent loving Blaine that’s it’s like instinct, now. If only it were as simple as that.

“It’s… okay, right?” Blaine asks, drawing Kurt out of his thoughts.

“Hmm? Of course it is! God, I can’t even remember the last time I just did something whimsical.”

“Me either.”

Kurt smiles up at him, his limbs heavy and sleepy as he stretches out on the couch. “Thank you, Blaine,” he says softly. “It really does mean a lot that you would do all this for me.” Blaine’s face turns bright red, and he mumbles something unintelligible as he sits down on the arm of the couch.

The music goes on, and Kurt strains his ears to hear the quiet lyrics. “Where having I heard this song? It’s driving me crazy.”

“I think we danced to it at prom. Or homecoming. One of those dances.”

“It was homecoming!” He remembers this song now, and the way he had swayed in Blaine’s arms, the rest of the Glee club all around but the two of them in their own little world. “Oh my god, this song is ancient history now. We’re old.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Old.” Why does it feel so natural, sitting here, chatting, and teasing with Blaine? After everything, and how difficult it’s been since the beginning of this mess - shouldn’t it be weird now? He doesn’t want to think about it too much, but even so.

But then Blaine is standing and reaching out a hand, and sounding painfully shy, he says, “May I have this dance?”

For a moment, Kurt feels frozen, mouth dry, staring at the hand stretching out toward him. He swallows the thick lump in his throat. “Blaine, my feet are about to fall off,” he groans, but it doesn’t ring true, he’s all too aware of how his voice shakes.

“Just once? I didn’t get to dance with you tonight.” He wiggles his fingers playfully, but eyes give away his own nervousness. Neither of them knows what they’re doing here.

Kurt’s eyes flick over to the stereo, and he can’t help but smile a little. “And was there any particular reason why our homecoming song happens to be at the end of a playlist previously made up of happy-go-lucky dance tunes?”

If Blaine looked embarrassed before it’s nothing compared to now. He clears his throat, hand falling a little. “Well. Maybe I was… hoping to get a dance with you. Never mind, I’ll stop being weird now, I’ll just -“

Kurt reaches out and grasps Blaine’s hand� (for half a second his finger brushes Blaine’s wrist, and a scar etched there, and sucks in a sharp breath), pulling himself up and off the couch. “One dance,” he says, voice low. Blaine ducks his head and smiles, and Kurt’s stomach flip-flops. He ignores the feeling, looping his arms around Blaine’s neck as Blaine’s hands hesitantly find their place on Kurt’s hips, big and warm and solid. It takes them a moment to find the rhythm of the song, and even when they do, they don’t move much - small steps, mostly swaying in place.

“Thanks,” Blaine mumbles.

“Thank you,” Kurt counters. At the confused tilt of Blaine’s head, he adds, “For today. Just… thank you. I really needed this.”

“Anytime,” Blaine says, gaining confidence and gripping Kurt’s hips a little tighter, and without thinking - he can’t let himself think or this will end all too soon - Kurt shifts a little closer in return. It’s too warm in the room, or maybe that’s just the heat of Blaine’s body - either way, the air is thick.

They don’t speak for a little while, letting the soft music wash over them, and Kurt slowly finds himself relaxing, falling back into the familiarity of this. He can tell that Blaine feels the same, body losing the tension that is always present in it these days, the pad of his thumb rubbing absent circles just above Kurt’s hipbone, probably not even realizing that he’s doing it. It should scare Kurt how easy this is but it doesn’t, if anything the light touch makes Kurt boneless in the circle of Blaine’s arms.

He finds himself sagging against Blaine, fatigue finally catching up with him, arms wrapped tighter around Blaine’s shoulders to hold himself up as they sway. “This is nice,” he sighs, sleepy and content.

“Yeah. It is.”

“I missed it.” He’s only half-aware that he says it, the only sign that it was heard Blaine’s sharp breath. Blaine’s breath is warm where it puffs against his neck, and Kurt shivers and lets his forehead drop down to Blaine’s shoulder, just for a moment. He doesn’t know when they got this close, but they’re practically pressed flush together now.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Blaine whispers, and as tranquil as Kurt feels, it takes him a moment to register the barest press of Blaine’s lips on his neck, where the drumbeat of his heart moves strong and quick. When the kisses grow more firm he freezes, head shooting up from where it rests against Blaine’s broad shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, voice sharper than he ever intended. Blaine hums and kisses a little higher on his neck in place of an answer. “Blaine.”

“Kissing you.”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” Blaine mumbles, lips still skimming against Kurt’s skin, face tucked into the crook of his neck as he keeps on pressing kisses there like the taste of him is intoxicating.

“God,” Kurt breathes out, shallow and shaky - he can feel every hint of touch on his sensitive skin. It all makes Kurt want to squirm, want to press closer still and just let him. It would be easy to let this happen, to let go; he wants it. Doesn’t he deserve this, to feel good?

The fear that courses through him along with the desire answers the question for him. “We have to stop.” Kurt closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see the hurt surely crossing Blaine’s face. He doesn’t move to push Blaine away, but he doesn’t have to. Blaine exhales slowly and draws back, the places where his lips touched Kurt tingling. “Blaine, we…”

“I know.” They’re still close enough that Kurt feels Blaine’s voice more than hears it, making his whole body respond, a shiver running down the length of his spine. This is all his fault, he let this happen - dancing with Blaine, god, how many times had they danced like this before? How could it ever turn into anything but this? Now he can’t find the strength to push Blaine away even though he has to. “I’m sorry,” Blaine says, resting his forehead against Kurt’s temple.

“It’s not that I don’t… want it.” He doesn’t know why he admits that, didn’t have any obligation to reveal it, but it’s out there now. He lets his fingers card through the loose hair at the nape of Blaine’s neck, holding him there even though he should be moving away, which is surely not improving the situation. He doesn’t stop, though, because this has to end soon and with any luck it won’t happen again and Kurt can feel his eyes burning at the very thought of that as he chokes out, “I’m sorry, but honey, we just can’t.”

“I know,” Blaine repeats. The music and the dancing have long since stopped, and if the air around and between them was thick before it’s crackling with tension now, begging them to breach the gap. Blaine turns his head, his nose bumping and sort of nuzzling against Kurt’s cheek as he touches their foreheads together, and his eyelids tickle as they flutter shut. “I know, I just. I needed…” He trails off, and there’s another telltale flutter of his eyelids and Kurt know that Blaine is staring at his lips. Never before has Kurt been so aware of being within kissing distance of someone. It would hardly take any movement, just leaning forward ever so slightly.

And that’s exactly what Blaine does. A dry press of the lips, almost chaste, too quick and sudden for Kurt to return. A second, and then the third long and slow enough that Kurt can kiss back, just for a moment. He can’t not. There was never any way he could resist this.

“Sorry,” Blaine says, voice rough as he pulls back with a wet sound that makes Kurt shiver. “I’m stopping.” He starts to pry his hands from Kurt’s hips, but before he can Kurt brings his hands up to cradle Blaine’s jaw, pulling him in for another kiss.

Where Blaine’s kisses were brief, almost asking for permission, Kurt takes everything Blaine has to give and more. He opens his mouth and sucks the sounds from Blaine’s tongue, the little whimpers of surprise and want. And they can’t, is the thing, Kurt can’t do this, but that doesn’t stop him from needing it, and apparently from doing it. “Please,” Blaine manages to get out when Kurt comes up, briefly, for air, and neither of them knows what he’s begging for but Kurt gives it anyway. Because there is nothing in the world that could keep him from needing this, and Blaine is here and warm and beautiful, and his lips are a mix of Chinese food and chocolate cake that shouldn’t be as tantalizing as it is. Tomorrow when he isn’t giddy off rare happiness and touching Blaine again, he will hate himself for it.

“Tell me to stop,” Kurt says. His voice is high as Blaine kisses up the line of his jaw, even the scratch of a five o’clock shadow feeling incredible. He’s not in control, and it’s so scary he doesn’t know what to do but give in to it. “You have to tell me to stop.”

“No.”

Kurt whimpers, and it’s a little pathetic, but any resolve he had - little - has vanished now.� It was always going to be this. One last time, he promises himself. One last time to get whatever this is out of his system and maybe, just maybe, he can be over this for good.

He steps back far enough to take Blaine’s hand, to lead him down the hall, to drag him into the bedroom and shut the door and push him hard against it before their lips find each other again.

And they don’t stop.