Chapter 11

Blaine lies awake in the morning by himself as a string of undeniable moans from Kurt's mouth howls through the wall.  The vibration of the low grunts and the high-pitched yes, Oliver flood Blaine's head like a storm, and it's all he can do to not interrupt the whole thing.  Next door, it's clear to Blaine that Kurt is on the receiving end of something dirty and perfect and mind blowing.  Blaine can't help but react just a bit to the sounds but he abruptly stops his hand halfway down his chest making its way in a straight path to his half-hard cock.  He groans and fixes his pajama pants and throws a tee shirt on, rushing past Kurt's room and flying down the stairs, three steps at a time. 

“Whoa, kid.  Twenty-five miles per hour into the kitchen; it is law.”  Burt is clearly amused at how distorted and tragic Blaine's facial expression must be.  He could never hide what he was feeling and right now, he doesn't give a shit.

Blaine scowls and plops into a seat at the kitchen table, where Carole already has a plate of French toast for breakfast.  “Thanks, Carole.”

“What's wrong?”  Burt takes a bite of his own breakfast and looks to Blaine for an answer.

“Your son's boyfriend doesn't know how to follow guest room rules.  Disrespectful motherfucker.”

Burt stares at him to elaborate.

Blaine sighs.  “Kurt is on the receiving end of what seems to be an epic blowjob and it's not fair that not only did it wake me up, but that I have to listen to Kurt make those sounds with someone he doesn't even love-” There's a beat.  “Sorry.”  He fills his mouth to the brim with French toast in an effort to stop speaking.

Burt's already up and sprinting up the stairs.  “Kurt!  Breakfast is ready.”  Blaine can't help but pause and listen.

In the kitchen, Carole turns to look at Blaine and offers him a sad smile.

“Be down in a minute, Dad!” There is a lewd pop then fumbling and a British giggle and a zipper and a muah. 

When Kurt emerges, followed by a shy and timid Oliver, he pats his dad on the shoulder and heads into the kitchen from the bottom of the stairs.  “Morning, Carole.  Blaine.” 

Blaine smiles with a mouthful of carbohydrates, as usual.  “Morning, Kurt.  Merry Christmas Eve.”  He swallows.  “Enjoying your morning so far?”  His words are dripping with sarcasm, undoubtedly in the know of exactly how much Kurt has been enjoying his morning so far.

Kurt sighs, giving him the side-eye of the century. 

Blaine shuffles out of his chair to help himself to a cup of coffee.  He does a double take at the bag sitting next to the percolator, branded with the Lima Bean logo.  He picks it up and stares.

“Julie's project.”  Kurt explains as he approaches and reaches over him for his own mug with a smile.

“That's amazing, Kurt.  Seriously.”  He looks at him.  “Hi.”  Blaine nudges his hip with his own.

Kurt gives him another look, but then a smile and all is right in the world. 

“Apparently there's an appeal for locally grown coffee, even though this is Ohio and that confuses me.  It's all her though, I know nothing about it.”

“Proud of you.”

Kurt scoffs.  “I didn't do anything.  Be proud of Jules.”  He grazes his arm before twirling the opposite way and finds the milk left out on the island. 

Blaine follows suit and holds out his cup while Kurt pours the perfect amount of milk into it.  “Why are you so modest?”  He is well aware of Oliver watching diligently.  He inches in closer; they're so domestic without even trying.  “I mean, you have nothing to be modest about.  Not even one thing.”  He pauses to bring his voice down to a whisper so only Kurt can hear what's said next.  “Even the little moans I had the pleasure of waking up to this morning, although I'm pissed they weren't my doing, pretty.”  Blaine leans in to kiss his cheek and allows his lips to linger perfectly on Kurt's jaw line.   Blaine smiles into Kurt's red cheek and breaks away, looking straight at Oliver as he stirs some sugar into his coffee, turning it into the perfect maple color he's grown accustomed to.  Oliver squints his eyes and Blaine's sure this means war.

“Guys.  Cut it out.”  Burt gives them both a pointed look that forces Blaine away from Kurt and back to his chair across the room.

“So.”  Blaine says as he situates himself in the same chair he was sitting at before.  “Lima Bean today?  I need to figure out how to wear that apron properly before Julie leaves on vacation.”

“Just because you haven't worked in years doesn't mean you'll never have to again.  Keep those skills sharp just in case the money runs out, kid.”  Burt's all teasing and fun and games, so Kurt and Blaine laugh naturally.  Oliver scowls.

“Oh shut up, B.  You never wore your uniform the right way anyway.”  Kurt joins them at the table.

“Perks to dating the boss.”  Blaine whips back and winks.

“Was that the only perk-” Kurt cuts himself off and looks at Blaine with wide eyes.  At Burt's groan, Carole's headshake, and Oliver's palm slapped against the table top, Kurt looks away.  “Anyway.  Yeah, we should go check up on the coffee shop.”

Carole tries desperately to change the subject.  She's nursing her own cup of coffee and sits at the head of the table.  It all feels right, minus one grungy, British houseguest.  “How did your finals go, sweetie?” 

“I think I did fine.  Nothing was hard, just time-consuming.  Remind me to never major in English again, though.  I must have written six-hundred-thousand words in the past week and a half.”

“I thought you were studying law?”  All eyes turn to Oliver, seemingly forgotten in the corner.

“You know a lot about me, Oliver Twist.”  He raises an eyebrow.  “Yes, I was fixing to carry on in the family business but I changed majors when I transferred to Berkeley and decided to make it a point to not be anything like my father.”  Blaine smiles and takes a sip, pointedly moaning a bit at how great this locally grown coffee is.  Two can play at this game, whatever this game may be.

“Oh!  Oli, do you want coffee?  I forget that not everyone knows where everything is this year!”  Kurt rushes to his side to help him get situated.  “You can help yourself to anything.”

“Yeah, Oli.  Mi casa su casa!”  Blaine laughs at his own joke and then louder when he sees Burt turning purple from trying to hold it in. 

Kurt glares at Blaine playfully and shakes his head.  “Not your house, B.”

Blaine places his empty coffee cup in the sink and yawns.  “I'm gonna go get ready.  The Lima Bean is my favorite place in the world.”  He squeezes at Kurt's shoulder as he passes and whispers, “No more blow jobs without me, pretty boy.”  He says it loud enough for Oliver to hear and systematically cringe.  He laughs at Kurt's shocked, red face and heads upstairs for a shower.

He enters Finn's room and sees to straighten up a little before hopping in the shower.  He checks his phone and sees that Santana called and texted, so he calls her back.

“Hey.”

“I woke up this morning to the sounds of Oliver Twist giving Kurt a blow job and I was so jealous that all I tried to do the entire time at breakfast was make him super uncomfortable.”

Santana laughs.  “Did it work?”

“I think so.”

She laughs again.  “You are such an asshole, Anderson.  I thought he was going to combust last night in the car.”

“I wish he would already, fuck!  Remind me why we're still dealing with him?”

“I don't know.  Something about if Kurt was single around you then he'd get right back into it like last time and he wants to do it right this time.  That's a lame ass excuse, though, if you ask me.”

“I know, right?  But we're in such a good spot now, you know and having Oliver here is like sending us back a few months.  It really sucks.  Fuck, San.”  He breaks down.  He can't help it; the tears escape and he wipes violently to stop them any way he can.  “It's killing me seeing him with someone else.”

“Then it sounds like you need to show him just how miserable you are without him.  Stop playing it off like it's no big deal.  Kurt needs to know how much he's hurting you!  You know he won't like it.”

“No, what I need to do is stop meddling and acting like his boyfriend when he already has one.”

“Are you still coming to the Lima Bean?”

“Of course I am.  I'm not gonna stop my whole life because I don't like Kurt's cheating bastard boyfriend, babe.  Can you guys pick me up on the way though?  I assume Cha Chi and Starch want some alone time to finish what they started ten feet from my head this morning.”

Santana cracks up; Blaine can envision her face scrunching up when she thinks something is actually hilarious, a rare happening in the world of Santana Lopez.  “Your ability to nickname is impeccable, Anderson.  I'll see you at like one, then.  We'll grab lunch at Breadstix so you can get to know my Willa properly?  Then we'll head over for coffee at the Bean?”

“Sounds good, dinner here is at seven so as long as I'm back by then.  Is Breadstix even open today?  It's practically Christmas.”

“I guess we'll find out.  Later, Blander.”

Blaine hangs up the phone and throws it next to him on the mattress.  He's been weakened by this entire experience so far and he finds himself uncomfortable and nervous.  When Oliver's not around, Kurt is the definition of “Blaine's boyfriend” and everything is perfect.  With Oliver here for Christmas, though, Blaine feels like he's not going to get everything he's wanted out of Kurt during this trip.  It's like two steps forward, three steps back.

He loves Kurt so much; he'd do anything for him, but he can't figure out how to show that with Oliver always right there.  It's an aching throb throughout his whole body that never fully disappears, like a migraine literally lodged between two sections of his brain.  To have lost someone who once was his entire life is such a severe feeling, almost to the point of being numb, and Blaine can officially no longer handle it.  It's killing him to see Kurt with someone else, and to be so unconsciously guarded and unlike his true self.  He needs to save him, if it's all he accomplishes during this trip back home.

Blaine falls back onto Finn's bed, smashing his head to fall between two tall piles of pillows so he's completely buried.  He strips, now gloriously naked and previously on his way to the shower, and he punches loudly at the pillow closest to his face.  His frustration is apparent, but only in private.  Maybe he can go on a jog and run this dissatisfaction straight out of his body; it usually helps when he's stressed out, why not when he's lonelier than he's ever been?

The door squeaks to announce that there's an intruder on his alone time, so he throws the pillows off to the side to see who it is.  When he realizes it's Kurt, he spreads his naked legs just another inch and covers his face again with another pillow. 

“Leave me alone, pretty.  I'm broken and you can't fix it.”

“I heard you on the phone and I'm here for a diagnosis.”  Kurt pretends to take notes on his palm.  “Blaine ‘B' Anderson.  Twenty-three-years old, broken, adorable, forever a dramatic teenager, looks damn good naked and wallowing on a bed.  Deep, uncontrollable love-like feelings for a man who's taken him through the wringer yet can't quite shake him, either.  Fear of forever not happening for either of them the way they once planned together.  As miserably lonely as his ex-boyfriend, untrusting heart when said ex says that everything will work out.  Inability to give me some time.  Treatment:  Know that it will and come to the Lima Bean with me.  It's where we started, B.  I can't go there without you, not with him here.”

Blaine can't help but smile while being purposely suffocated by the pillow.  “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Blaine moves the pillow just a hair so he can peak one eye out at Kurt, who's smirking and waiting patiently for him. 

“You didn't shower yet?”  Kurt continues.

“I was about to but then I decided to go for a run and I haven't quite gotten there yet.  Santana's not picking me up until one.”

“You can ride with us, you know.”

“I figured you'd want some alone time with your boyfriend.”

“Quite the contrary, babe.  He's just sort of my sex toy right now.  Everything else about him has been pissing me off.  Save me from him?”

“Oh.  So you're only with him so you're not single around me, because that would be a travesty.”  Blaine sits up and covers his lap with a pillow.  “This is not fair to me, Kurt. What are you so scared of?”

Kurt whistles from low in his throat and inches closer.  “You really want to know why?”

“Yes.  This is usually why people ask questions.”

“I'm really scared to fuck it all up again and make it worse than it was last time, and this will be our last chance.”

“Oh, Hummel.”

“And I might be prolonging this relationship that I'm not happy in so by the time we're together, we can stay in the honeymoon phase for a long time because comparatively, my relationship with him would have been hell to your heaven.  Or whatever.”

“Kurt.  We're amazing together with or without Oliver's inability to make you happy.  You shouldn't make yourself miserable until it's the right time for us.”  Blaine scoots up to get closer and rubs his back.  “We've learned so much about what not to do first hand.  The next time we get together will be the last time.  We're gonna make it if it's the last thing I do.”

“I still think we should have that threesome.”

Blaine laughs.  “Threesomes suggest having sex with two other people in addition to yourself, and I'm sorry but I'm not at all attracted to Oliver Twist.  I can't even comprehend how you ever get it up staring at his jacked teeth and disgusting, nappy hair.”

Kurt shakes his head.  “Fine, I want to have sex with you and I want him to watch.  I call bottom.”

“Jesus, Kurt.”

“Come on, you have to have more stamina than that.”

“It's been a few weeks, pretty boy, and waking up to the sounds of Kurt Hummel moaning ten feet from my pillow doesn't help.”  He gets up and pulls on his jeans, buttoning them into place.  “I hardly went out when I was back in San Francisco for finals.”  He brushes a piece of undone hair out of Kurt's eyes and takes his hand.

Kurt looks down at their hands and smiles shyly.  “Uh huh, and why was that?”

“I thought we'd be back together for Christmas.  Without the need for a threesome.”

“Mmmm, I need to buy some time… and condoms.  Have you been tested?”

“I'm clean as of a month ago.”

“Good.”

“The resistance is always something with you.  It's my damn fault; I can't stop loving you.”

Kurt sighs.  “Fuck me in front of my boyfriend, B?”

Blaine nods wordlessly.  He takes in all of Kurt's features as if it's the first time he's seeing the sunshine against his face, reflecting like a mirror through his eyes.  It's the first time seeing the glisten shining out of his smile, his eyes softening, the love pouring out.

“Go shower.  I'll cancel your ride with Santana.  I love me some jealous Blaine in the car.”  He gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.  Blaine brings his hand up to his chest to feel his own heartbeat; there's a smile on his lips and a fading scar on his heart. 

Blaine shrugs to himself and grabs a towel from Finn's old (now mostly empty) closet.  He's not sure what he's getting himself into with Kurt now, and it's only because he would do anything for him.  He trusts that Kurt won't use him for anything raunchy or less than amazing, but there's always the thought in the back of his head that everything happening is all very dangerous for everyone involved.

As he lathers himself, ridding himself of the filth on his skin from yesterday's trip, he daydreams about what it would be like to be with Kurt fully again.  If it all happens before Blaine graduates, would Kurt freely come visit him in California?  Would Kurt wind up moving to San Francisco?  Would Blaine move back to Ohio to be with him after graduation?  How is Blaine going to sever the ties with the club and his friends?  There's so much to work out, but he feels one step closer and that feels like he's finally getting through to Kurt.  Amen.

xK&Bx

Blaine comes barreling down the stairs and slips on the last three, the back of his head making contact fitfully with the third stair.  “What the fuck?”

He opens his eyes to see stars floating in his line of vision as a blurred Oliver comes into his place over him, leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs with a raised eyebrow and no indication of any intention to help.

“Shit.”  Blaine finds his way back up to vertical, rubbing his head and checking for blood.  He retrieves his shoes that had gone flying in any direction and entirely ignores Oliver's presence, lacing up his combat boots to layer over his jeans.  He stands and smoothes out imaginary wrinkles on his thighs then his black tee and maroon wool cardigan layered on top.  He checks his hair in the mirror by the front door and looks back at Oliver, then walks into the kitchen. 

“I just fell flat down the stairs and your boyfriend legit just stared at me.  I feel like I have a concussion.”

Kurt turns from the sink to look back at him and his jaw drops.  “Shit, Blaine.  You really grew into yourself, didn't you?”

“Shut up and find me a scarf, pretty boy.”

Kurt laughs.  “Blaine, you're blushing.”  He fixes the collar on Blaine's sweater, although it doesn't need much fixing.  “Are you okay?”  He rubs at the back of Blaine's head and massages it lightly.  “What color is your coat?”

Blaine closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy Kurt's touch.  He falls into a pit of relaxation as Kurt twirls a finger around a curl.  “Uhhhh, black pea coat.”

Kurt nods and smiles as Blaine opens his eyes again.  “I have the perfect dark charcoal cashmere piece that will work wonders with your outfit.  I'll be right back.”  He squeezes at Blaine's wrist and Blaine watches him go.  There's something about hating him leave but loving watching him go that sparks interest in his head and he can't help but laugh to himself for the corniness of his inner monologue.  Blaine watches as Kurt finds Oliver in the foyer and says loud enough for everyone to hear, “Go be nice to Blaine.  I want you to be friends.”

“Not gonna happen.  Pretty boy?  You stand for that?”

“Oh, he loves it.  I've been calling him ‘pretty boy' for, like, five years.”  Blaine folds his arms and leans up against the frame of the door.

“It's Christmas.  Please don't ruin it, either of you.”

Oliver pulls at Kurt and they walk away from Blaine but of course, Blaine can still hear what's being said. “Whatever.  Did he say yes to the sex?”

“We're going to talk about it later.  After you come meet my Julie!”  Kurt leans in, kisses him quickly, and runs up the stairs to find Blaine that scarf. 

Blaine watches the exchange then comes up behind Oliver and puts an arm around his shoulders as soon as Kurt is out of view. “Want to have sex with me, Oliver Twist?”

Oliver sputters and looks into Blaine's eyes.  “Yeah, but only to see what's so great about you.  I'm really not seeing it.”

“It's not yours to see.  Your boyfriend, however…” Blaine lets go of him.  “We'll talk details later.  But one question, Oli.”

“What's that?”

“Are you sure the dude you're cheating on Kurt with is clean?  Neither of us want your diseases, you know what I'm saying?”

Kurt comes downstairs and smiles at them talking. Blaine pats Oliver on the back and lets Kurt tie the scarf around him.

“Ready, babes?”  Blaine looks to Oliver and winks, leading the way to the car and climbing into the front passenger seat without another word.

xK&Bx

Kurt parks and waits for the boys to get out of the car before he starts making his way over to the front door of the Lima Bean. 

Blaine waits for him by the door.  “Panic attack check-in?”

“I'm good.  I know he's not here.”  Kurt smiles at Blaine and there is a sense of courage in his eyes.  Kurt's proud of himself.  “Thank you.”

“Okay.  You say the word and we're gone, okay?”

“I know.”  Kurt opens the door roughly to make the ribbon of bells jingle louder than normal and Blaine grins as he walks inside. 

“It's really nice to be back where my whole life changed for the better, and with the person who changed me.”

Before Kurt can respond, Julie squeals and runs out from the back room.  “Hi!  Hi!  Hi!”  She flies into Blaine's arms, who twirls her in a few circles and puts her down.

“Hey Jelly Bean!  I missed you!”

“Me too, Blainey!  You don't call, you don't write.  One might think you're too busy for little old Ohio!”  She grins at Blaine and skips over to Kurt and hugs him tight.  “Hiya, Kurt.”

“Never too busy for you, Skittle-butt.  I'll be better at staying in touch, I promise.”  Blaine smiles and shuffles closer to Kurt, like a ship pulled by the moon.

Blaine is drawn to Kurt as he's always been.  He watches the shape of his mouth move as he introduces Julie and Oliver, how he extends his neck up and over to the door when the ribbon rings, indicating Santana and Willa walking in from the subzero temperature of winter in Ohio.  It's all a blur when Kurt introduces Willa to Julie as “each other in different states.”  Santana takes Blaine's hand and squeezes to show some level of support.  They all head to the back room to show the newbies who haven't been here before everything.  Blaine watches Kurt's fingers curl around Oliver's absentmindedly, maybe as a friendly reminder to say that he's still there next to him as he meets all of these new people or maybe as a conscious thing to pretend he feels something for Oliver in the meantime, until all the ducks are lined up and all systems are a go for the Kurt and Blaine Extravaganza, Part Two.  When they all follow Kurt back onto the floor, Blaine takes a few steps backwards until he's swaying.  He leans up against the pole next to his Carrie Table with his eyes screwed shut, trying his damnedest to scare away his own panic attack in the back of his throat. 

It's really hard to see them together because Kurt is acting so different in front of all his old (and new) friends.  Blaine trusts what Kurt is promising to him in private is true, but seeing something entirely different is making his nerves shake effortlessly.  The feeling of loneliness is overwhelming, to the point of Blaine's sincere insecurity that he can even survive this.  It is this very table that started everything between them five years ago, and now Kurt won't even look over to it or Blaine in another man's presence.  He's the fifth wheel this Christmas, and it hurts because it's supposed to be Kurt and Blaine following each other all over the world, setting each other free and taking their breath away together as one.  He came to Ohio for Christmas with every intention of starting fresh, of starting new, of simply starting his life over with Kurt Hummel still at his side. 

He should have cancelled when Oliver confirmed.

Now, he watches Kurt lead Oliver behind the counter to show him the machinery and then they venture to the back room again, with Santana and Willa following them hand-in-hand, and he sighs.  Today could have been such a special, new beginning.  Maybe Blaine isn't Kurt's type after all. 

Julie tilts her head as if to silently question what's wrong, and his half-smile seems to bum her out.  He brushes the small of her back as he rushes toward the bakery case where Kurt's finishing up the mini-tour. 

“…This used to only be one case but we needed another one once the croissants started moving a little too quickly a few years back.”  His eyes finally meet Blaine's.  “And that's it!”

What's next all happens in slow motion for Blaine, like a shoot out between a cowboy and Indian.  Kurt leads the group over to the counter to watch Julie work her magic.  Oliver's waiting somewhat impatiently as she works to create a foam masterpiece, leaning against the exact spot where Kurt dominated Blaine in the beginning of their relationship, where Blaine came harder than he'd ever come before in his entire life five years prior. 

He thanks her for the coffee and backs up from the counter and glides straight into Blaine's seat at the Carrie Table. 

Blaine sees fire and death and rage and the third center of Hell in front of his vision.

The lump in Blaine's throat is something he can't keep down; it's a piece of coal lying heavy on the base of his tongue.  The rage in his eyes is a dark, fiery black hole burning through his sockets, searing straight through the saline of his tears, heating the moisture to a boil.  As Oliver works to settle his ass into Blaine's chair so he's comfortable, Blaine sees to it that he's not comfortable here ever again.  His legs work without his brain telling him to walk and his hands are fisting into Oliver's ugly sweater and throwing him out of the chair and across the room before he even recognizes that he's moved closer toward the douchebag. 

Blaine slams Oliver so he slides back and up against the sharp corner of the closest bakery case, the small of his back punctured on the metal.  He sees Oliver's mouth open; he must scream in pain.  It sounds mute behind the ocean in Blaine's ears, behind the cry out of what the fuck! and Blaine! and oh my God! from Kurt and Santana and Julie, behind the loud jingle of the wretched bells against the glass of the front door, of each footstep as he race-walks back toward Burt and Carole's neighborhood.  The ocean prevents his ears from functioning; he doesn't realize that Kurt is running after him until he's halting in front of him to stop him in his path.  He's in a fitful trance of jealousy, of possessive and sizzling resentment for both Oliver and himself; he feels he could kill a man right now with his bare hands.  He hardly sees Kurt as he pushes at his shoulders with the palm of his hands to slow his stroll, and he certainly doesn't realize it's Kurt as he shoves him out of the way.  He only understands it's Kurt when he yelps and stumbles back, luckily catching himself before falling into the street on his rear.

“Blaine!  Baby, stop!”  Kurt runs around to Blaine's front again and conforms himself into a human shield, putting his fists up to his face so if he's pushed away again, he'll just swing a punch.  At least that's why Blaine imagines Kurt would ever need his fists in his face around Blaine.

Blaine can see Kurt now, so fragile and docile, like a little lamb looking for the next meal provided by his mother.  Kurt shakes his head and sighs when he must realize that he's finally gotten through Blaine's wall, willing the tears to fly off his cheek without any further effort.

“Blaine.  Baby, please.  He didn't know, honey… please.”

“Stop.”

“Blaine, come on… you're okay.”

“Stop fucking making excuses for my behavior, Kurt!  It's not fair that you do that.”

“Blaine.”

“Go be with your boyfriend, Kurt.”

Kurt takes his hand and laces their fingers together.  “I am.  I ran after you, not him.” 

They keep walking in silence, and Blaine sighs.  He's openly crying so hard that he can't walk straight, so when Kurt leads him up against a building and sits him on the cold sidewalk, he doesn't complain.  “Fuck, pretty.  I'm so sorry.”  He gasps for air.   “I'm sorry.”

“Are you really this depressed without me?”

“Welcome to my life for the past two years, Hummel.”

Kurt responds with a tight hug around his side and a head to Blaine's shoulder.  “I don't know how to fix you.  I didn't three years ago, and I don't know how now.  Is it enough if we just be?”

“Permanently cursed without you; I think just being will be more than enough.”

“Hey.  You're never without me.  Not anymore.”

“Right now, I am.  Kurt, all I want out of my life is you.  That's it.  Everything else is just gravy.”

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose and hangs his head.  “We keep having the same conversation.  What is it that you want me to do?”

“I want you to be my boyfriend so that eventually I can propose to you and then I want to be your husband and then I want to be your baby's daddy.  I want everything with you, Kurt, and you are showcasing all that I can't have by having Oliver here.  I'm done fighting for you and I'm done fucking waiting.”

Kurt lets a tear fall.  Blaine wipes it as he continues.  He pulls Kurt into his body; they connect on every pressure point as he brings his previously angry voice down to a whisper.

“I'm not yelling at you, I'm just frustrated that this is how it is.  This is our place.  That table is ours; the whole fucking building is ours.  That's our apartment and where we lived together for the first time ever, Kurt.  It's the beginning of our relationship; it's where we met and that's our place and you tainted it by bringing him there.”

“It's still ours, no matter who walks through that door, Blaine.  Oliver only came to Christmas because he heard you were coming.  You are feeding into everything he is here for – to prove that he's the better choice, as if he even has a chance.  As flattered as I am that you two are fighting over me, I can't have you get hurt.  I followed you to make sure you were okay.  I need you to be fine, I don't care about anything else.”  Kurt kisses Blaine, long and hard.  “We win this in the end.  Don't you dare give up on me now.”

“That's not fair, because it's Christmas and if I'm going to have you for the rest of my life, I want to start with the best Christmas ever.  And your birthday is this week and I wanted to make it all special for you without getting the judgment from him.  I wanted to glorify your body and spend time with just you for your birthday, and I wanted to give you incredible, boyfriend-y Christmas gifts.  I want to shower you with every ounce of my love and I'm being put on the backburner just because someone else is here with you, someone you don't even care about enough to just let go.  You're stringing him along too, Kurt, and it's not fair to either of us.”

“You're going to have me for the next sixty-five Christmases, B.  Let me try to do this my way.”

“Yeah but… in twenty-thirteen, you did it your way and it still wound up being my way in the end.  You always try to do it your way and you always give into me eventually.  Your way takes too fucking long.”  He lets out a shaky breath.  “Look, Kurt.  I love you so much; I love you more than I ever even knew I was capable of.  It's an insane connection between us and it's totally unhealthy and I'm the first to admit that.  So let's just skip the drama bullshit.  I'll do whatever you need me to in order to make this right.  Just… can we please try again?”

“Blaine.  I need to get rid of him first, okay?”

“No.  I've put myself through all this shit by witnessing all of you people with each other.  I can't wait forever, and I will never ask you to choose.  But think about it, who would you rather have next to you for the rest of your life?”

“You know exactly who.”

“So then why are we even having this conversation, Kurt?  Holy shit, you are so fucking frustrating.  Am I crazy?  Am I living in this parallel universe where no one can see me or how I feel?  I'm just here totally alone and on a different fucking wavelength?” Blaine rolls his eyes.  “I'm really mad at you.”

“We should get back to the Bean.  Come on, maybe you'll surprise me and apologize for irrationally throwing him into a piece of stainless steel.  Maybe you'll be saying sorry to him, but you'll mean for it to be to me.”

“I will never be sorry for anything I do because I'm affected by you.  You can forget that right now.  I was protecting our table from someone who was not authorized to sit there.”

“Fair enough.  You shouldn't apologize for the way you feel, as untamable as you are sometimes.  Can you apologize for putting me in the middle of a situation that's very difficult for me?”

“Oh my God, Kurt!  You are acting like a crazy person!  You put yourself in this situation.  There would be no middle without him.”

“I don't have the strength I need to be with you yet, Blaine!  I am slowly regaining my trust in you.  I'm trying to psych myself out that you'll never leave again, because I will not fucking make it if I need to go through that kind of heartbreak again.  Can't you see?”

Blaine chokes on a sob.  “Finally, the truth comes out.  At least you're resisting with a reason.”

“Please come back to the Bean.  We'll hang out for a while and then Christmas Eve dinner at my parents'?  They love you; I love you.  Let's make this what it is and ignore the presence of the random house guest in the corner?”

Blaine nods and pulls out a cigarette from his back pocket.  “Sure.  Whatever.  Still mad at you, though.”  At Kurt's amused stare and raised eyebrow, Blaine rolls his eyes.  “Shut up.”  He lights it and jumps up to make his way back to the Lima Bean.

“I didn't say a word.”  Kurt follows him and runs to catch up.  “But, why?”

“I picked it up for when I'm stressed.  It usually works better than punching people.  Hindsight is twenty-twenty though; it does nothing for throwing British douchebags across coffee shops in a fit of rage.”

Kurt laughs, forcing Blaine to let a smile escape.

“I'm sorry for breaking your heart so badly.”

“It's over now, but are you sure we're okay?  I don't want to lose you and I feel like we're teetering somewhere between forever and never.”

Blaine feels like he's coming apart at the seams.  He's being jostled and ripped and cornered and placed roughly in the middle of the room in front of the firing squad and for what?  He lets out a shaky breath and stops walking, although his hand carries on forward with Kurt until he feels the resistance. 

Kurt turns to look at him. 

He sucks on his cigarette.  “We're perfectly fine as soon as you make up your mind, Kurt.  If I'm not with you completely by Valentine's Day, showing up at your doorstep with a million lavender roses or whatever you order with my credit card, then I have failed in trying to get you back and I'm not going to keep trying.”

“I don't want to feel like it's a ticking time bomb.”

“Isn't that exactly what we are without each other, though?”  Blaine lets that resonate in Kurt's head for a few seconds, then tugs at his arm to cross the street and they walk silently but connected together all the way back to the Lima Bean, fingers and souls connected as one.  He stops Kurt in front of the coffee shop.  “I love you, Kurt Hummel.  I do.  But I can't be manhandled like this anymore.  Be with me or don't.  There's no in between.”

Kurt lets go of Blaine's hand and it feels like a gunshot to the palm as he watches Kurt hustle back inside.  He inhales and exhales, and mimics Kurt's movements to go inside, only to find Santana slapping him across the face.

“What the fuck, Santana?”  Blaine's hand cradles his cheek and he winces at the flaming skin.

“That is not going to win him back, Anderson.  Asswipe went to a hotel because, quote, he needs to figure out a plan of attack.  This whole bad boy act resurfacing from years ago is not fucking showing Kurt how you can't live without him, numb nuts.  And it's not cute now that you're old.”

“Ah, it must be fucking Christmas.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Name calling and slaps in the face and completely ruining any good mood I could have had today.  What's next, Lopez?  You gonna push me down the stairs?”

“Blaine, I-”

“Save it for someone who fucking gives a shit.  Kurt, I need the keys.”

Kurt is watching the altercation, standing with Jules as she frantically huddles over search engine results for what hotel Oliver could have possibly gone to.  Kurt stares at them, wide-eyed and jaw entirely too relaxed.

“Give me the keys, Kurt.  I need an out now before I go to fucking jail for knocking Santana out 'cause she knows nothing – nothing! – about me.  The keys.  Kurt.”

Kurt tosses them to him, still staring from the corner, and clenches his iPhone with white knuckles. 

“Thank you.”  He leaves as roughly as he used to on his worst days with his father and hops into the BMW.  There's nothing he can do to control his anger so much so that he thinks the windows might be steaming and he punches the steering wheel repeatedly so hard that the horn is going off every time he makes contact.  He bites down hard on his knuckles and watches as the blood pools on the exterior of his finger, enabling him to see exactly how he feels on the inside.  He's mentally bleeding out and there's no one to put pressure on the wound. 

Fifteen minutes go by before Kurt comes out and slides into the passenger seat.  “Bring me home.”

Blaine looks at him and leans over the console to wipe his tears.  “Where's that?”  Blaine's voice is a soft whisper, a bit raspy from the screaming, but hopefully familiar to Kurt anyway.

“Wherever you want.  Wherever you're going, just take me with you.”

They can only situate themselves at Burt's house, although there are questions of Oliver's disappearance on the tips of Burt's tongue.  Both Kurt and Blaine wave him off with red-rimmed, sad eyes and Burt must know exactly when he should drop it.

The boys retreat to Kurt's room without a word and curl into each other for the remainder of the afternoon.  Christmas Eve dinner is in a few hours still, but all Blaine needs is Kurt's hand resting on his hipbone as he shifts closer around his body, capturing all of his senses and making it better. 

“Kurt?”

“Rest, B.  Let's just do nothing for a while, yeah?”

“I just… I've been thinking, and I've learned the lesson, okay?”

Kurt sighs.  He hooks his chin on Blaine's shoulder.  “Elaborate.”

“I know now that one should only leave their boyfriend if they've fallen out of love.  Any other reason is stupid and unnecessarily complicated.”  There's a beat.  “And I think I needed to learn that away from you.”

Kurt sits up, pulling Blaine up with him.  “Honey, do you trust me?”

Blaine nods, the motion of his head swirling up and down like an unsynchronized bobble head.

“Are you ever going to stop being a whiny teenager?”

Blaine smiles and shakes his head.  “Unlikely.”

“Well, I can deal with that.  Just trust me when I say I have a plan, and it starts with that threesome of ours.”

“You're seriously considering that?  Even now?”

“What do you mean?”

“He checked into a hotel, Kurt.  Is he breaking up with you?”

“Probably not, honestly.  He's really… um, attached.  I think it'll take a lot more than that for him to leave me of his own will.”

Blaine blinks.  “I gotta say, pretty boy.  Cockiness looks really good on you.”  He wiggles his eyebrows.  “Also, coc-”

“Uh uh!  No immature sexual innuendos!”  Kurt's grinning; he's joking around, making the mood lighter.

“I feel bad for blowing up on Santana.”

“That was pretty harsh.  You know she didn't mean it like that.”

“I know.  I just took everything else out on her.  It was easy, you know?”

“Apologize to her before too much time goes by, honey.  She didn't deserve that.”

“I will.”  Blaine hugs Kurt and flips them back down onto the mattress, smiling at him as he shamelessly straddles him.  Staring into clouded eyes and engraining the experience into their brains for all eternity, they stay intertwined to take it all in.  “I'm really sorry... for everything.”

“Forget about it.”

“Can't.  I'm such a fucking idiot.”

“Fine, but stop beating yourself up about it.  I love you, especially when you're an idiot.”

The mood in the room shifts and it's suddenly thick with a fog of desire.  They stare at each other, willing the other to make the first move until Blaine starts to rub up and down Kurt's clothed sides.

All too quickly, there's a knock at the door and Blaine turns to lie on his back as a response.  “Come in!”

“You two decent?”  Burt's rumble of a laugh echoes through the room as he peeks in with one eye.

“We're fine, Dad.”  Kurt sits up again and shakes his head.  “What's up?”

“Dinner's almost ready.  Just wanted to get a final count for place settings.  Will the Brit be joining us?”

“No, Dad.  Just the four of us.”

“Do I need to help you hide a body, Blaine?”  Burt chuckles; Blaine watches his shoulders vibrate.

Blaine sits up and shakes his head, laughing because Burt is literally the best father on this planet.  He pushes himself off the bed and holds out a hand for Kurt.

Kurt takes it and rolls off the mattress.  “Oliver is staying at a hotel tonight.  I'm not sure if he'll be back.”

“And I assume it has something to do with Blaine's presence?”

“You should know by now that it always has something to do with my presence, Burt.”

“Maybe that's true, kid.  But in my eyes, that's a good thing.”

“You're always so self-deprecating, B.”  Kurt chimes in and bumps his hip with Blaine's.  They all head downstairs as a pack and venture into the kitchen while maintaining the conversation.

“So you two took a longer-than-normal break from knowing each other, and then you went through a lot of ups and downs to get to where you are now, which from where I'm sitting is a grown-up version of how you were.  The point is that Kurt's world slips off its axis as soon as you show up again, and the same goes for yours.  That's not a coincidence.  This was all meant to be.”

“I have to go.  This Hummel romance is making me sick.”  Blaine grins and hides his face in Carole's shoulder.  “Help me, they're trying to seduce me by way of fate.”

Carole dries her hands on her jeans and squeezes Blaine, a motherly instinct to protect.  “Awww, poor baby.”

Kurt takes the salad from the island and places it on the table.  “Screw you!  I didn't say a word.”

“You wanted to.  You're agreeing with everything he says.”  Blaine kisses Carole's cheek and starts gathering silverware for the table.  The four of them dance around each other until a grand spectacle of Christmas Eve dinner is on the table.  Blaine takes a fraction of time to quietly thank his lucky stars for the Hummels becoming a constant in his life again.  He wouldn't have survived without them.

So dinner goes off without a hitch, although somewhat spontaneously changed with the lack of Kurt's boyfriend and honestly, Blaine couldn't be happier as he shovels mashed potatoes in his mouth with his right hand and squeezes Kurt's thigh with his left.  Everything is almost okay.