The sun is shining the way it only ever does in L.A. in the middle of summer, hot, relentless and too bright, and neither Blaine nor Kurt have any ambition at all to leave the relative cool of the shade and join their friends who are currently splashing about in the swimming pool.

"I'm gonna melt," Kurt mumbles drowsily, splayed out on his sunbed in nothing but a pair of swim shorts in an attempt to cool down even a little. Under any other circumstance Blaine would have ached to run his hands over the pale expanse of his boyfriend's chest, cover every perfect inch of it with soft kisses and sweet caresses, but as it is he is barely able to summon up the energy to breathe. He groans.

"At least you don't have to work tomorrow."

"You wanted to do a summer internship in L.A.," Kurt tells him unforgivingly. "You're doing a summer internship in L.A. Now deal with it and don't expect any pity from me."

"But Kuuuuuuuuuuuu- MERCEDES!"

Blaine is on his feet in seconds and immediately lashes out, but his tormentor is already gone, giggling as she easily dances out of his reach, the bucket she'd used to douse him with water still dangling from her hands.

"I'll get you back for this, I promise!" Blaine shouts after her, but before he can convert his words into action he's distracted by a chuckle coming from behind him, and he spins around to see Kurt pressing his fist against his mouth, hardly able to contain his laughter. "What are you laughing at?"

Kurt doesn't reply but gestures at Blaine instead - at his curls that are dripping wet, his shorts that, now heavy with water, hang just a little too low on his hips, and as Blaine looks himself over he can't help the big grin that spreads over his face.

"I guess I had that coming, didn't I?" he asks, looking appropriately contrite, and Kurt laughs.

"Well, you've only thrown her into the pool like, what, five times now?"

"Six," Blaine corrects him proudly. "And I cant help it - she screams so wonderfully every time she hits the water."

He turns around as he says the last sentence, making sure he says it loud enough so Mercedes can hear it, and he laughs when she sticks out her tongue at him in response.

She'd visited him in the hospital, six months earlier. He still doesn't know how she'd found out he was even there, considering she and Kurt weren't really speaking at the time, but she'd come all the same. It had been pretty awkward, despite the heartfelt, if not somewhat clumsy apology, and even more so when Kurt had arrived just as she was about to leave. But things between them had changed from that point onward. Forgiving her had been harder for Kurt than it had been for him, but they'd made it through anyway - some friendships were too strong to be destroyed by even the heaviest of storms, and in the end it had only brought them closer. Mercedes had even arranged for her church choir to sing at the yearly fundraiser for the support group, and if that hadn't convinced Blaine she was serious about making things right again, the tight hug she'd given him afterwards certainly had. And judging by the way Sam was currently looking at her like she hung the moon, she'd managed to rectify more than one mistake she'd made.

David, on the other hand, no one had heard from again, and while it still hurts Blaine to think about it, he presumes it is for the best. He knows there will always be people who are uncomfortable around him, and in any case it is impossible to keep in touch with everybody, so really he'd much rather put his energy toward those who actually care about him.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice shakes him out of his reverie. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Five?" Blaine says even as he starts rifling through his bag to try to locate his phone. "Oh. Five fifty-three, actually. Wanna have dinner?"

Kurt nods, and Blaine shoves the small cooler they're keeping their food and drinks in towards Kurt, reaching for his towel instead and pulling a face when he notices it's still soaking wet. He's just thrown his spare towel over his head when he hears Kurt moan, and he pulls it up just a little so he can peek at Kurt while he continues drying off his hair.

"What's wrong?"

"Salad?" Kurt asks him, holding up one of the plastic boxes Blaine had picked up on his way from work. "Seriously?"

"What's wrong with salad?" Blaine asks. "It's healthy, it's delicious - everything that's good in this world."

"It's not greasy," Kurt insists. "It said on the leaflet: 'Pills to be taken with a greasy meal.'"

The discussion about whether or not Kurt should start preventive therapy had resurfaced after Blaine's little hospital-stint, and while Blaine himself hadn't been a big fan of the idea -those are pretty heavy chemicals Kurt, taking them each day at the same time is a big commitment- Kurt had finally decided to go through with it. He was well aware that they still had to use protection, they still had to be careful; it didn't have any direct influence on their sex life. But it did make Kurt feel safer, and, as he'd explained one night to Blaine, in a strange way it made him feel a little closer to Blaine. As if, rather than simply supporting Blaine in his fight against the virus, Kurt was actually there fighting alongside him.

Once his decision had been taken, Kurt had thrown himself into therapy with the same vigor he used to tackle every other hurdle life threw him. He'd scoured the Internet for months until he'd finally found a pillbox he considered worthy of keeping his PrEP pills - a stylish little metal box with an intricate flower pattern engraved in the lid. He'd also read up on everything there was to be found on pre-exposure prophylaxis, and that obviously included the entire (impressive) length of the leaflet his pills had come with. Which led them to their current discussion - and not for the first time.

"Salad is not greasy, Blaine. Actually, salad is everything but greasy."

"There's dressing if you want it," Blaine retorts, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "I've been taking these pills longer than you have, so just trust me on this one - you'll be fine. You know as well as I do you're only looking for an excuse to order trashy Domino's anyway."

"There's nothing wrong with trashy Domino's," Kurt sulks even as he takes a resigned forkful of salad.

"Not for your trashy movie nights there's not, no- AH!" Blaine ducks, but it's too little too late to completely evade being showered by the water from Kurt's bottle. "Come on, what is up with everybody today? First Mercedes, now you, ... I'm starting to feel like a moving target here."

He pouts in what he hopes is a pitiable way but instead probably just looks adorable, because when Kurt leans over to press a kiss against his lips he doesn't look like he pities Blaine at all.

"fThose who tease a boy just want to be his toy,f" he quotes sagely, and despite himself Blaine immediately bursts out laughing.

"Somehow I doubt Mercedes wants to be my etoy.f"

"You never know!" Kurt starts to argue, but just then his phone starts ringing, and he scrambles to find it before the call goes to voice mail.

"Hello?"

Blaine looks at him inquisitively, and Kurt mouths It's my dad, and then demonstratively rolls his eyes as he says in the phone, "Yes, dad, I'm aware there's a heat wave going on. Yes, I'm taking care to drink enough. Blaine too, yes, don't worry. He's been working really hard but they all love him. Do you want me to pass him on?"

And Blaine almost chokes on his salad.

In truth, he and Mr. Hummel have come a long way since last Christmas. When Kurt had insisted on celebrating his birthday in Ohio with his family and Blaine, there hadn't been a single protest or comment from his part, but still, they're far from Mercedes-make-up-levels yet, or even his own parents' level. Because even if the long weekend Blaine's family had spent together in New York over Easter break might have been a little awkward at times, the last day especially, spent indoors playing board games due to the never-ending rain, had been surprisingly pleasant.

But Blaine can't imagine how a whole night with Kurt's dad, even one where conversation wouldn't need to stray beyond the course of the game they were playing, could be anything but positively nerve-wrecking. The fact that he still calls the man Mr. Hummel even in the safety of his own head is indication enough of his comfort levels, and now Kurt wants him to talk to him? On the phone?

"No, dad, it's fine, I'm sure he'll understand," Kurt says in reply to whatever his dad has just told him, meanwhile winking at Blaine who sighs in relief. "Yes, I'll tell him - he says hi back, by the way. You'll give my best to Carole?"

There's a short pause but then Kurt's face changes into a softer expression, and Blaine doesn't have to hear the voice on the other side of the line to know what is being said. It's what Burt tells his son after every phone call, at the end of every e-mail, each time they say their goodbyes.

Be safe.

"I love you too, Dad."

Kurt hangs up soon after, and Blaine doesn't attempt to break the silence as Kurt puts away his phone, all too aware of the eyes on him.

"My dad says he's proud of you and to keep up the good work," Kurt tells him. "Also, he said hi. I told him you said hi back."

Blaine just nods and takes another forkful of salad. He knows what's coming - how could he not? Just like their disagreement on whether salad is acceptable dinner-material the topic pops back up time and time again, but unlike the salad-discussion Blaine doesn't usually win this one.

"You know there's gonna come a day when I won't be there to play messenger for you two, right?"

"But he hates me!"

"He doesn't hate you." Kurt sighs. "To be honest, he probably thinks you hate him for all you do to avoid him."

"He's literally twice my size and I hurt his only son," Blaine says meekly in his defense. "I have a very good reason for avoiding him."

"His only son wasn't exactly blameless for getting hurt though," Kurt reprimands him. "And he knows that. So do you. So why are we still talking about this?"

"What are we talking about?"

Brad plops down next to Blaine, glancing between the two of them as he steals a piece of cucumber and showering Blaine with tiny droplets in the process.

"Blaine's afraid of my dad," Kurt explains when it's clear Blaine's not going to say anything, and Blaine glares at him. "Basically he's just being a coward."

"Aw, Blainey-boy, you disappoint me," Brad coos, fishing a cube of cheese out of Blaine's salad. "I thought you were a fearless Knight-In-Shining-Armor, fighting HIV prejudice and making the world a better place for us Positives. And you're afraid of your father-in-law?"

"Not my father-in-law," Blaine says unwillingly, "and I'm not afraid of him, I'm just... intimidated."

"Just pretend he's not wearing any clothes next time you talk to him," Brad suggests, and Blaine nearly spits out his salad. "It's what I do whenever I see Nick's parents - works like a charm. Well, not so much with his mom maybe, but still..."

"I am not picturing Kurt's dad naked," Blaine says determinedly as he glances at Kurt. They are talking about his dad, after all. "Also, stop stealing my food! Seriously, dude, get your own dinner!"

He swats at Brad's hand just as he's about to grab a piece of tomato, and Brad laughs when he misses.

"Already had one," he says, making a show of putting the tomato into his mouth. "It's just these time zones are seriously messing with my eating schedule."

"Well, maybe next time you can adjust your eating schedule to fit the time zone you're in, like the rest of us," Blaine reprimands him, a little triumphant when this time he manages to successfully shield the three remaining salad leaves from his hungry friend. "Now are you done pestering us or do you actually have something to say?"

"Well, I wanted to invite you two to play pool volley with us," Brad says, gesturing at the pool where Brittany, Santana, Sam, Nick, and Mercedes are waving back at him. "If you're done here?"

He looks pointedly at their now-empty salad boxes, but Kurt immediately shakes his head.

"We've only just finished dinner, Brad," he says. "Maybe later, okay? Besides, it's too hot to be playing volleyball right now."

"Nonsense," Brad dismisses him. "It's only too hot because you're not in the water. Besides, physical activity is good for your digestion."

"I'm not quite sure that is scientifically sound..."

"You know, Blaine," Brad starts as he turns back towards Blaine, in a tone that holds a promise of mischief, "I've seen you throw Mercedes in the pool a couple of times now, but I really feel your technique could use some polishing. Would you like me to show you?"

"Brad, no..." Blaine says warningly, but that's as far as he gets, because exactly three seconds later a loud cheer erupts from his so-called friends as he lands butt-first in the swimming pool. He reaches the surface just in time to see Kurt back away while Brad chases after him, and for a moment he's sure Kurt will be able to escape. And to his credit, he does put up more of a fight than Blaine had, but really it's not a surprise when he, not quite as tall as Brad and, more importantly, not nearly as well-trained, finally ends up following Blaine's example, flying through the air in a graceful arc before breaking the water surface and causing a tremendous splash, soaking Blaine for the third time in less than an hour. He surfaces with a gasp, shaking his head in an attempt to orient himself.

"Are you ok?" Blaine asks as he swims over to him.

"I'm going to kill him," Kurt says furiously, wiping the water out of his eyes and the hair out of his face. "Did you hear that, Brad? I'm going to kill you!"

But Brad just laughs and bombs the pool while Nick yells: "No killing! Nobody gets to kill my boyfriend but me! Nobody!"

"Seriously though, are you ok?" Blaine repeats his question as he takes Kurt in his arms. Nick's shout has prompted the others to start a concerted effort to try and push Brad under water, so they have a moment. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I'm fine," Kurt says, still a little cranky as he checks his arms front and back, and Blaine follows his movements worriedly. "He's really freakinf strong, though - I think I might have a bruise or two in the morning. Nothing I won't recover from." He gives Blaine a reassuring smile and drapes his arms around his neck. "Seriously, don't look at me like that. I'm fine."

He presses a kiss against Blaine's lips, but Blaine's still not quite convinced. He knows from experience how much Kurt hates surprise tosses into the pool.

"I can kill him for you, you know," he says. "If you want me to."

"And risk Nick's eternal wrath for having ordered his boyfriend's murder?" Kurt asks, an eyebrow raised. "I don't think so. I'll get back at him, don't worry, but for now I'll just have to learn to deal with the fact that your best friend is an asshole."

"Nah," Blaine says, scrunching his nose and pulling Kurt just a little bit closer. "My second-best friend can be kind of a jerk, I'll admit. My best friend though... my best friend is actually pretty awesome."

"Oh, really?"

There's an air of innocence to Kurt's voice, but the sparkle in his eyes tells Blaine he knows exactly what's coming.

"Really," he nods sagely. "For starters he's really sweet - he's easily the most compassionate person I know. He's also really smart..."

"Uh-huh?"

"... and talented..."

"Go on..."

"... and really, really hot."

"Sounds like a real catch," Kurt says, a little breathless despite his obvious effort not to be. They're close enough that Blaine can feel Kurt's breath ghost over his lips, and suddenly there's nothing left of the playfulness the conversation had turned to just moments ago, nothing left but him and Kurt and the way their eyes keep flicking down to the other's mouth.

"Oh, he is," Blaine assures him, not exactly the epitome of calm himself. "As I said... he's probably the most awesome person on the planet... and I'm madly in love with him."

Their mouths crash together and there's nothing modest about this kiss. There doesn't have to be: they're at a private pool, and their friends don't care if their making out gets a little heated at times. Not that Blaine would be bothered if they did, although from the catcalling he figures they don't have to worry.

"Let's go," he whispers against Kurt's lips, "I wanna kick your ass at pool volley."

"In your dreams," Kurt retorts mischievously.

"Winner gets to pick tonight's movie?"

"Deal."

Blaine watches Kurt swim to the other side of the pool, and he smiles. Kurt is no match for him in any sport and they both know it, but this isn't about winning or losing. Because Blaine would happily let Kurt pick the movie every night for the rest of their lives if it meant they were together, and he knows Kurt feels the same way.

Which is why half an hour later he has no qualms smashing the ball right next to Kurt when Santana passes the ball to him to make the winning point.

"I'm thinking Star Trek!" he shouts at his disgruntled boyfriend, and then laughs when Kurt sticks out his tongue in reply.

Yes, he thinks, as he swims over to comfort a pouting Kurt, life is great. His health has never been better, he has a job he loves, he has friends he can trust - he even has his family in a way he never had them before, and for all the exercise in choosing the right words they may still prove to be at times, he knows he wouldn't miss them for the world. Above all, though, he has his boyfriend, his Kurt, whom he adores to the point it would probably scare the living hell out of him if he wasn't so certain Kurt feels exactly the same way. But he does, and they do, and it's more than he ever dared to dream of.

He doesn't know what next year will bring, or next month, or even next week, but he doesn't care. He's spent so much of his life living in the past -What if I'd never met Brad?- or in the future -What if Kurt doesn't like me back? What if he does?-, and it is high time he started enjoying the present. Because next year, next month, next week, even tomorrow, ... they don't exist. Not really.

But today exists. The beautiful boy in his arms exists. And Blaine will be damned if he doesn't enjoy every second of it.