He doesn't even know how long he's been toying with the phone in his hand; long enough for his hands to get sweaty, that's for sure. He wipes his hands dry before he unlocks the screen for what feels like the thousandth time, but, just like the previous 999 times he's done so, the screen turns dark before he has the courage to dial the number he's supposed to call.

No - the number he wants to call, Blaine reminds himself. After all, he'd been the one to ask Gary not to call their parents, he'd been the one to decide that this time he'd tell them himself about what happened.

Still, it feels weird. Because the long minutes spent staring at the screen in his hand have made him realize he can't remember the last time he's spoken to either of his parents on the phone. He definitely can't remember the last time he wasthe one to call them. He must have done so, though, at one point; probably some time back in high school, to tell them he'd be home late or something equally inane.

This time he'd be calling with quite different news...

He sighs, once again wiping his hands to unlock his phone, more determinedly this time.

He can do this. He has to do this. He wants to do this.

The phone rings once, twice, and for a fleeting moment Blaine hopes his parents won't pick up and he'll end up getting voice mail. But he couldn't possibly leave a message like this on voice mail, could he? He'd have to call back and-

"Blaine?" a female voice says loudly in his ear, and he pretends he doesn't notice the surge of relief running through his chest.

"Hi," he starts, voice croaking from all the coughing he's been doing, and he curses himself for not practicing his voice before calling - god knows he had the time. He clears his throat, though the croak is still very clearly present when he repeats, "Hi, mom. How are you?"

"I'm fine," his mom replies immediately, automatically, her voice laden with barely hidden surprise. There's another sentiment there as well, though, one that's scarily reminiscent of worry. She has to hear the croak, has to know he would never call just to catch up. Still, she plays along - for now. "I'm good. I just got home from the store, your aunt Madeline and uncle Robert are coming for dinner tonight and-"

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" Stupid, Blaine chastises himself, stupid, stupid, stupid! "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were busy, I should've asked, I'm sorry, I'll call back la-"

"Blaine Devon Anderson, don't you dare hang up that phone!"

And even though he'd already lowered his phone Blaine can hear his mother's scream as clearly as he would have if she'd been standing right next to him - Mrs. Anderson may be a small woman but she certainly has a big voice and she isn't afraid to use it.

"It's only so often that my youngest son does me the honor of a personal phone call," she continues after a short pause, and Blaine can hear the apology in the way she's trying to regain her calm, tries to make it sound less like a jab and more like the joke it is. "And besides, I don't expect them before eight anyway. So. Plenty of time to talk."

It's a lie, and they both know it. Blaine hasn't attended any of his mother's dinner parties in years, but he remembers quite vividly what happens when she decides to invite people over, how she will spend hours in the kitchen to prepare the perfect meal for her guests. And so he can just imagine her right now, in her usually pristine kitchen, surrounded by grocery bags upon grocery bags of the most exquisite ingredients, which she will turn into even more exquisite dishes in a matter of hours according to a pre-determined and very tight schedule that he knows for a fact does not leave any room for chit-chat.

"Blaine, honey, are you still there?"

"I'm here," Blaine croaks - again.

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound... tired."

"It's nothing."

It's a reflex, really, his former go-to reply whenever his parents asked him questions he wasn't prepared to answer, and the words have left his mouth before he could even think about them.

He takes a deep breath.

"I mean - it's nothing serious. Not really. And I'll be fine, I'm feeling much better already and-"

"Blaine..."

"I'm in the hospital." Blaine can hear his mom suck in a breath, and he quickly continues before she has the chance to freak out. "I'd been feeling a bit under the weather since I left Ohio - I figured it was just that damn cold I couldn't get rid of. But then I got a fever and... well... Kurt thought it was best we go see a doctor."

He doesn't mention how Kurt practically dragged him to the hospital, or how they didn't so much ego see a doctorf as they erushed to the hospital in the middle of the nightf - it's one thing to tell his parents he's in hospital, but it is a whole different thing to give them extra reasons to worry about him.

"And?" his mother prompts when he doesn't immediately continue, and he takes another breath.

"... and I've got pneumonia."

"Oh Blaine, honey..."

"So really, I'm fine," Blaine insists once again, hoping that maybe if he doesn't let her talk he doesn't have to hear the worry in her voice. "It's just a cold that got out of hand, it's nothing, it's just-"

"-pneumonia, Blaine, it's pneumonia. That's not just a cold that got out of hand, that's pneumonia! How could you let that happen? You know you need to take care of your health, I've told you a thousand times - better safe than sorry, even if it's just a little cough: go to the doctor. You never know. And wear your scarf! Grams gave you such a lovely scarf last Christmas, why wouldn't you just wear it? You used to love them so much back in high school, and then suddenly you're in New York and it's not ecoolf anymore and-"

Blaine closes his eyes, leans back and lets his mother ramble. So this was why he used to let his brother take care of this stuff... She means well, he tries to tell himself, but it's hard when her phrasing isn't always as considerate as it could be ("I can't believe Kurt didn't send you to the doctor sooner, really he should have known better.") He'll have to talk to her about that one day. Not now, though, now he's too tired and he doesn't have the energy, so he just lets her ramble until-

"Do you want us to come over?"

"What?"

"We'll come over," his mom blatantly ignores him. "I'm sure there's still flights going out to New York tonight, I mean, there has to be, right?"

"Mom, that's really not necessary."

"But oh god, your aunt Madeleine... and what am I going to do with those coquilles? I don't even know if I could freeze them... no matter, I'll figure it out, Madeleine can wait."

"Mom..."

"I should call Bea, though, let her know I won't be at work till the end of the week. Your father... well, he'll just have to arrange something too. What hospital are you at? Is there a hotel nearby?"

"Mom, I don't want you here!"

But the dramatic effect of Blaine's outburst immediately goes to waste when it promptly sends him into a coughing fit.

"Blaine? Blaine, what's happening? Are you all right? Blaine!"

He blindly reaches for the bottle of water on his night stand, taking a couple of sips in an attempt to stop the coughing, grimacing when it slides down his burning throat. Now is not the time to be squeamish, though, he tells himself - the last thing he needs is to give his mom more reasons to jump on the next plane because she actually thinks he's seriously ill. Hearing the worry in her voice is bad enough already, he doesn't want to have to see it too. He definitely doesn't want herto see himlike this, either.

He closes his eyes and sighs, feeling suddenly exhausted.

"I'm fine, mom." Another cough. "Just... something in my throat, that's all. I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. Definitely nothing to fly all the way to New York for."

"Honey... are you sure you're telling me everything?"

His eyes fly open.

"Why?"

"Well..." His mom hesitates, as if she's not sure she should continue, but when he repeats his question, a little more urgently, she finally says, "Just... that cough sounded pretty bad. And you said you didn't want us to come over so..."

"... so you think I'm lying to you?" Blaine asks, incredulous. "Why the hell would I be lying about this, mom?"

"It wouldn't be the first time that-"

"Is that what you think I am?" he explodes. "A liar? Well, next time I'll just let Gary do the honors again. Would you believe him? Do you know- do you have any idea how hard it was for me to call you? I'm trying here, mom, I'm trying and all you can do is accuse me of lying!"

He's panting, gasping for breath, but above all he's angry. Angry because once again his mom is jumping to conclusions, angry because he never did anything to deserve being called a liar, but above all he's angry because now he's too damn exhausted from screaming he can't do anything but lie there and catch his breath as his mom makes good use of his silence.

"Honey, I caught you being sick when you were seventeen. You were puking your guts out and you told me it was just something you ate. I had to hear from Gary that it was because of your new meds because apparently you'd quit taking your old ones without telling anyone. Just as it was Gary who told me that you were... that you are... positive. And, eOh by the way, mom, he's gay.f You're a good boy, Blaine, and I know you're not a liar. But you do have a record of not always telling us everything, so I'm sorry if I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop here. "

The words sting, but it's the truth underneath them that hurts the most, the reminder that his parents weren't the only ones to have broken the trust between them. The fact that Blaine hasn't been as honest as he could have been about the way he ended up in the hospital certainly doesn't help to quell the sudden sense of guilt that's come over him.

"I'm your mother, and I won't apologize for caring about you. So I'm flying over, whether you want me to or not, okay?"

"Mom, really, there's no need," Blaine tries again. His head is throbbing and his throat feels like it's on fire and he's too tired for this... whatever this is. "All you could do is sit beside my bed and read me stories, and Kurt's already claimed that job. And I appreciate you want to come here, I really do, but you really don't have to."

"I'm not coming because I have to." There's urgency in her voice, and a hint of desperation, like there's a point she's trying to make and Blaine is missing it. "Blaine, I asked you if there was anything more I needed to know. You said no, and I believe you. So this is not about us checking on you, it really isn't, this is about-..." She breaks off the sentence with a sigh, and Blaine can practically hear her steel herself for what she's about to say. "Look, I just want to be there for you, okay, honey? Please. Please just... let me be there for you."

Because I wasn't there before.

She doesn't say the words but they still hang heavily between them, and Blaine doesn't know what to say. Even when he was still a kid his mom had never been the type to fuss over him when he was ill - not because she didn't care; it simply wasn't the kind of person she was. And so the idea of her doing so now just brings back awkward memories of Thanksgiving and trying too damn hard.

"Look, mom..."

"You really don't want me there."

It's disappointment - its honest-to-god disappointment and it makes Blaine feel hot and cold both at the same time. Maybe his fever is coming back...

"Mom, there's nothing you could do," he pleads, even though he knows that's hardly the point of the conversation. "It'd be a waste of time and money, not to mention carbon dioxide. And I know aunt Madeleine would be terribly disappointed if you cancelled dinner."

There's a short huff on the other side of the line that Blaine's not sure how to interpret. He hopes it was a laugh, he hopes his mom understands his refusal is not a rejection. Because it's not that he doesn't want her here. He just doesn't want her here now.

He groans. This whole fixing-his-relationship-with-his-parents thing was a lot harder than the movies had led him to believe.

"Look, why don't you come over for Easter?" Oh god, what am I saying? "You'll be able to get a better deal for your flight and I'll have some time off school then anyway. I could show you around, we could maybe see a show on Broadway or something. Kurt's like a rush ticket genius." They don't even LIKE Broadway, where am I even going with this? "You could even stay at our place - Kurt's moved into my room so we have a spare one anyway." And now I've basically just told you I have sex every night. Nailed it, Anderson.

"That... sounds wonderful," his mom says.

I'm screwed, he thinks.

There is a soft knock on his door, and Blaine looks up to see Kurt standing in the doorway, looking a little unsure as to whether he's allowed to come in seeing that Blaine is obviously busy, but Blaine feels a surge of relief at having an excuse to end the weird silence between him and his mom.

"Look, mom," he says, even as he beckons Kurt to enter, "I don't want to seem rude but Kurt just got here so..."

"Oh, yeah," his mom says, and there's that disappointment again. "Yeah, of course. Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Still got lots of work to do for dinner anyway! You- uh, you'll tell him I said hi, right?"

"I will," he promises. "And I'll... I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Anytime, honey. Anytime, honestly. And Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for calling."

She hangs up before he can think of something to reply with, and it's a soft pair of lips against his cheek that brings him out of his stupor and instantly makes him forget about his headache. He smiles.

"Hey, pretty..."

"Who was that?" Kurt asks as he puts down the duffel bag containing more of Blaine's things and sits down on the bed next to him, wearing that familiar look of worry he hasn't been able to lose since they'd arrived at the hospital the previous night. "You look exhausted."

"My mom," Blaine replies, and there's a flash of surprise on Kurt's face.

"Oh. Why'd she call?"

"Actually..." Blaine hesitates. "I called her."

This time, the surprise doesn't merely flash by but instead completely replaces the worry, and Blaine smiles apologetically.

"I wanted to tell her about... this," he explains, gesturing around him clumsily. "I figured... I figured she should know."

"Of course, I didn't-... I mean-... how'd it go?"

"I invited them over for Easter."

Kurt bursts out laughing. He honest-to-god simply bursts out laughing, and Blaine's left to watch him in astonishment as he hiccups his way through his laughter.

"It's not funny!"

"You call your mom to tell her you're in hospital and instead you invite her over for Easter?" Kurt asks, still chuckling. "No, you're right, that's not funny - that's hilarious. Seriously, how does that even happen?"

Blaine makes an unhappy face, and then shrugs.

"First she accused me of being a liar and then she made me feel all guilty about it and then she insisted on flying out here tonight to... I don't know, take care of me or something. And I didn't want her to see me here, so I kind of... freaked out on her about it and then I felt even worse and I just..."

"... invited her over for Easter," Kurt nods understandingly, as if it really does make sense now, even if Blaine himself still doesn't know exactly what went on in his mind when his mouth said those traitorous words. "So what did she say?"

"That it was a wonderful idea," Blaine says, and Kurt must hear the hesitance in his voice because he shoots him an inquiring look.

"But you don't think it is?"

"I don't know." Blaine shrugs again. "I guess it's just weird, you know? Like for the longest time I felt like I didn't have parents and now suddenly I do but they're not who I thought they were but then again I'm not who I was either and it's just... weird." He hesitates for a moment, not sure whether he should tell Kurt the other reason why he's still on the fence about his own proposition. But, he figures, if his parents decided to take him up on his offer, Kurt would have to find out sooner or later anyway. "Also, I may have told them they could stay at our place."

"You- what?" Kurt gasps. "Blaine, why would you do that!"

"But we have a spare room anyways!" Blaine tries to defend himself. "It doesn't make sense they would have to spend money on a hotel when we have enough space. And besides, technically it's still their apartment."

"But then we couldn't-" Kurt starts and then stops, glancing at the door to Blaine's room to make sure it's shut as his cheeks turn a deep shade of pink.

"We couldn't what?" Blaine asks, and it takes him a few seconds before he understands. "Oh..."

And no matter how tired he feels, no matter how painfully his head is still throbbing, there's something about the way Kurt's smiling now that throws Blaine back in time, to that moment right before Christmas when, between hot touches and not-so-soft moans, Kurt had pulled Blaine close, had pressed their bodies together and kissed Blaine to within an inch of his life before whispering in his ear, "God, I want to be inside you so bad".

It wasn't something they'd planned to happen -not that soon, anyway- but right then and there Blaine hadn't felt a shred of doubt that it was just... right. He'd still asked Kurt if he was sure -he'd had to, had had to make sure that this time, their first time, it was absolutely perfect- but Kurt hadn't even hesitated. He'd smiled like there was nothing he'd rather be doing, no one he'd rather be doing it with, and he'd looked Blaine straight in the eyes when he told him "Yes".

And after strong hands had carefully gotten rid of all traces of awkwardness, and soft lips had kissed away the last of his nerves, Blaine had allowed Kurt to be closer to him than anyone else before. It had been the most amazing experience of his life - hefd thought he was going to burst at the seams, filled with something larger than life, larger than everything, an overwhelming feeling that was second only to the realization that this could -and would- happen again. And again. And again.

Blaine looks up to see Kurtfs thoughts have apparently gone in the same direction -at least if the lustful look in his hooded eyes is any indication- and he doesnft know what gets to him most - the inviting way in which Kurtfs thumb has started stroking the back of Blainefs hand, or the lowered tone of Kurtfs voice when Kurt starts speaking again.

"I missed you, you know," he says hoarsely. "I haven't even gotten a proper kiss since we got back from Ohio."

"I'm sorry," Blaine apologizes sheepishly, feeling suddenly guilty. If only he'd taken his health more seriously, if only he'd listened to Kurt instead of brushing it off as silly overprotectiveness, if only-

"Hey..." Kurt's finger lifts Blaine's chin until Blaine has no choice but to look him in the eye. "It's fine, okay? I was just teasing - it's fine... you just focus on getting better first, and then we can worry about kisses and... other things... later. Okay?"

It's a promise, Blaine knows, and any other time he would probably have pulled Kurt close and kissed him like he'd never kissed him before, would have made sure he knew Blaine intended to hold him to that promise. Right now though, Kurt's words only remind him of the pounding in his head and the aching in his throat, and he leans back against the bed, closing his eyes once more.

He's feeling suddenly drowsy, and for a moment he's not quite sure whether the hand that starts stroking along his cheek is actually there or whether he's made it up.

"I'm tired," he says to no one in particular.

"Then sleep," a voice tells him. It sounds like Kurt's voice. And it has to be Kurt's voice, right? There's no one else in the room with them. It had sounded so far away though, and Blaine can't be sure.

"I say we could have sex even with my parents at the apartment," he mumbles. "The walls are pretty thick..."

"Go to sleep, Blaine."

"... they probably wouldn't even be staying for that long anyway. Just a couple of days. We could go a couple of days without sex, right?"

"I'm sure we could, Blaine. Now just go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

"You'll be here." Blaine's not even sure why they're suddenly talking about that, but it seems important somehow. "You are here."

"I am." The hand on his cheek is back, and Blaine nuzzles against it, reveling in the comforting touch. "I'm right here with you and I'm not going anywhere. So sleep. I'll be here. I'll always be here."