Chapter 9

After one full-fledged nightmare that leaves Kurt a blubbering mess, screaming and sobbing into Blaine, and a thirty-minute discussion between both of them and Cooper, Blaine finally makes his decision to visit with his father in the hospital.  Although the phone call with Cooper is mostly of the teasing variety about Kurt and Blaine's proximity, the point is that Blaine should see Christian for the sake of closing old doors to open new ones. 

As they work to fall back asleep, Blaine grabs at Kurt's fingers and squeezes them like a lifeline.  He's as ready as he'll ever be to face his fears because he has Kurt at his side. 

They shower separately almost immediately after waking, more like roommates than the lovers they aren't.  They dance around each other, stealing glances in the mirror, as they fix their hair and brush their teeth.  They're together like always but this time also painfully separate.

“Still want to do this?”  Kurt grabs his toothbrush and looks at Blaine as he's fixing his unruly curls for the twentieth time. 

“Kurt.”

Kurt shoves his toothbrush in his mouth and starts to scrub his teeth but stops to ignore Blaine's small plea to shut up.  “You're doing this for you, right?  You're not chasing the idea because Coop suggested that you should?  You actually want to?”

Blaine shrugs and looks at him through the mirror.  “Honestly?  I'm not sure yet.  I don't know if I want to go.”

Kurt wipes his mouth.  “We don't have to, you know.  Don't feel like you've committed just because you told Coop you would.  We can just do something else, or nothing.  Or we can drive there and sit in the parking lot and come home.”  He rinses, spits, and repeats.

“We're so fucking domestic.”

“Ah, the Blaine Anderson conversation shut down by way of changing the subject.  Don't you dare think that I don't know what you're doing every time.”  Kurt smiles and shakes his hips a little too dramatically as he leaves the bathroom.  “Ready when you are, B.”

“To clarify, I'm ready for a lot of things with you and you know how I can't stand sexual tension.”  Blaine follows Kurt out into his bedroom and Kurt can feel eyes staring into the muscles in Kurt's back as he pulls a Henley shirt over his tight and teased chest. 

Kurt laughs at the sight of Blaine's slack jaw when he turns around.  “Do you love me, Blaine?”

Blaine raises an eyebrow. “Mmhmm… of course I do.” 

Kurt tilts his head and takes a step toward Blaine.  He smiles; he loves teasing a clearly sexually frustrated ex-boyfriend.  “Do you wanna kiss me?”

“Kurt.”  Blaine laughs.  He steps forward and fishes his hands through the holes of Kurt's shirt, grasping at both elbows with his palms.

“You're going to stretch it.”

“Yeah, I've been told I'm good at that.”

“You are crude, Blaine Anderson.  Stop.”

“I'll show you.  Make you remember how good I can make you feel?”  He nips at Kurt's jawbone.  “Please, pretty.  Want you so bad.”

“We need to go see your father.”  Kurt subconsciously opens up access to his neck for better access on Blaine's part.  He whispers.  “It's a long drive; we should get going.”

“Do you prefer Oliver?  Is that why we haven't fucked?”  Blaine steps away and raises an eyebrow; it's a challenge of what Kurt should say versus what he'd want to.

Kurt stares for a minute, seemingly taking it all in.  He squints at Blaine and tilts his head.  “Blaine, please.  You know that I wish I could just be with you.  It's not that simple.”

“It can be if you let go of all the bullshit.”  Blaine approaches him again and palms Kurt's cock through his sinfully tight skinny jeans.  “I know you want me, too.  I just can't figure out why you're still resisting it.”

Kurt gasps and pulls away.  “Because the love I have for you is so thick and complicated and, like, iridescent.  It physically blinds me and until I can get a grip on exactly what I should do versus what I want to do, I'm saying no.  I'm not saying not ever, I'm just...”

“You're just playing another fucking game with me to see how long I'll hang on.”

“Seriously, B.  Stop.  You are upsetting me on a day that's already going to be difficult for everyone.  Can we just go?”

“Yep, sure.  Whatever.” 

xK&Bx

The long ride to the hospital in Lucasville is tense, full of words and explanations that aren't being said, sitting sourly in the air almost physically visible.  Blaine can tell that Kurt is thinking about something, like he wants to say something to define the reasons behind his outright refusal or the fact that he's driving closer and closer to his attacker.  He feels the choking, palpable mystery in the air as the miles roll on; he shifts in his seat as though that will cure his uncomfortable state.

“You can say it, Kurt.”

“Huh?”  Kurt switches the radio's volume to low.  “Say what?”

“Whatever it is you're thinking.”

“My favorite part about you is how well you know me.”  Kurt smiles and continues.  “I guess I'm just concerned that I won't be able to help you after you see him. Like, the aftermath, and I know there'll be some type of aftermath that I can't properly plan for.  I'm trying to preplan how to fix you without knowing how broken you'll be.”

Blaine is so vain, he's still caught up on the reasons why Kurt clearly doesn't want to have sex with him. 

Maybe Kurt is thinking about ways to fix him when he leaves his father later, but Blaine knows there's more.  “You make me sound so weak.”

“No.  You're singlehandedly the strongest person I have ever laid eyes on, but it doesn't stop me from feeling absolutely wrecked and useless when something like this is out of your control.  I love you, you know, and I just want to protect you from the shitty cards you've been dealt.”  Kurt takes Blaine's hand.  “I can't help myself but think that you're only punishing yourself further because Coop and I suggested this.  You didn't do anything wrong and you don't have to go inside if you don't want to.”

Blaine sighs.  “My favorite part about you is your ass.”  At Kurt's giggle, he laughs and keeps going.  “But a close second is how well you know me, too.  Seriously.”

Kurt pulls into the hospital's parking lot and cuts the engine.  “Game plan?”

“My cock gets unbearably hard when you reference sports.”

“Blaine, be serious.  Think about the issue at hand.  What are you planning to do?  Do you want me to come inside with you?”

“Wh-what?”  Blaine's eyes widen.  “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Do you want me to… visit with your father?  Do you need me to accompany you within the hospital for moral support?”  Kurt blushes.

He laughs nervously.  “Oh.  Sorry, I just…” He forces himself to think of something else, and quickly.

Blaine thinks back to the time he visited his father in prison, a time of “closure” as well.  He didn't ask Kurt to come inside, but he did anyway and he was shaking like a log the entire time.  He won't put him through that fear again.  “No, babe.  You stay here.  I'll want to make a quick getaway afterwards, so I need you ready.  I'm just going to talk him through a few things on my mind and leave.  This won't take too long.”

Kurt nods.  “I'm proud of you.”  He pulls him into a tight hug over the middle console.  “Knock 'em dead, killer.”

Blaine laughs and wiggles his eyebrows as he pulls back and opens the door.

“I do not mean that figuratively.  Please don't make me use our entire wedding fund as bail money.  Just… back him into the corner with your fancy words.  For both of us.”

“Okay.  See you in a bit.”  Blaine gets out of the car and stares at the hospital, utterly uninviting and soaking in despair.  He climbs back into the passenger seat of Kurt's car and plants a hard kiss on his lips, holding his head in place forcefully by the sides of his cheek and everything.  “Wait, what wedding fund?” 

Kurt laughs and nods.  “I clearly did not mean to say that but yeah.  It's always been the wedding fund.  I opened an account the week before we moved to New York.”

“Kurt, if that is your idea of a proposal, I'll need to second guess if I'd ever known you at all.”

“That was the placeholder for something fabulous.”

“Okay.”  Blaine kisses Kurt one more time.  “What's mine is yours, though.  We have millions for a wedding, baby.  Hey, remember when I said I'd stop kissing you?”  He winks and shuffles to his feet, never lifting them until he's standing exactly where he's supposed to be, several flights up in the hospital full of the weak and sick.

Blaine takes a deep breath in front of the closed hospital room door.  He peaks through the window to see a dark and lonely space, and he envisions his father sitting back against dreadfully flat and uncomfortable pillows against the wall he can't see, impatiently tapping his foot and waiting for anyone to come see him.  He pauses and shifts on his feet and nods at the police officer stationed on the side of the door.  He knows he doesn't owe his father anything this side of sanity, but he's doing what he has to for the sake of moving on at last.

Christian Anderson doesn't deserve even a halfway polite knock so Blaine barges in without warning.  He's proud to do what he wants.  To his surprise, he's not hanging onto the last inch of his life at all; Christian is wide-awake and seemingly emotionally unscathed, at least from what Blaine can see.  Fuck.

Father and son are both under a stone-cold scrutiny.  Blaine's sixteen all over again as he quickly drops his eyes to the tile on the floor.  He's completely over his head and this is officially the worst idea he's ever thought to have.  He looks back to where the door is closing slowly but surely due to the pressure of the lock and the door's weight, but can only see it as a barrier.  In this room, he can say whatever he needs to and not get beat up for it.  He glances to Christian's wrist and where it's locked to the armrest of the hospital bed; Blaine can't get hurt in Christian's presence, for the first time in his life.

He sees the military-styled cop stands completely still in a stance he's never imagined to see outside of an actual war; he wonders why the fuck he came here in the first place.  Kurt kept saying Blaine should go for the sake of courage and closure and Coop said to vocalize all the things that should be said once and for all, but he's not entirely sure any of that is needed in this moment.  Ideally, he'd like to get in and out as quickly as possible so he sets his jaw and wills himself to just get through it.

He's here now, standing in front of a man who almost took everything from him, and he decides not to back down like he had so many other times growing up.  Besides, he knows that Kurt will be on the other end to pick up the pieces he shatters along the way.  Two oversized steps are all it takes to crowd into the window overlooking the parking lot.  Immediately finding Kurt's car, he knows that his words must come because Kurt's can't.  Kurt: the man who would have selflessly come upstairs and into the hospital to offer Blaine support if he had asked the right way.  Kurt:  the bravest man Blaine will ever know, the one man he would willingly give his life for.  Even if they never get together again, he will have loved and lived because of Kurt.  He owes him this much. 

He doesn't want to make it entirely about Kurt, though, so he tries to find a balance to speak for the both of them, hurt in especially unique ways but for the same reasons.  He coughs to hide a sob lodged in the back of his throat.  Puffing his chest out and folding his arms across the most blown out part of it, he sidesteps over and around to the bed so that the un-handcuffed arm is just out of reach. 

“I'm here to tell you that you deserved every fucking thing you got in prison as well as anything else that puts you on the receiving end of any terrible thing from now until the day you drop dead.  And to let you know that you didn't break me and you definitely didn't break my Kurt.”

“Still with that old man?  What is he now, forty?  He's almost as old as I am, isn't he, faggot?”

“Any of the problems we've had have nothing to do with you.  I won't give you the satisfaction.” 

Actually, Christian is the core of everything bad in Blaine's life and he's shocked that he's taken this long to realize that.  Blaine should continue and say, “Actually.  Come to think of it, fuck it.  It was all because of you.  Every tear either of us had ever cried came from your evil ashes of a heart.  No one is as terrorizing or fucked up as you and you were the root of all evil in our lives for a very long time, both separately and together, and it eventually strained our relationship so much that we couldn't take it anymore.  So yeah, I lost the one person who's ever loved me and who I've ever loved because of you.  Even if you didn't kill him, you killed a little piece of me and I will never be the same because of you.”

Instead, he says nothing, but he's clearly working through something in his head.  Both men stay eerily quiet for upwards of four excruciating minutes. 

Blaine paces the length of the bed a few times in an attempt to articulate exactly what he wants to say without getting too worked up.  He needs to take this slow since he doesn't plan on ever seeing his father again.

“Kurt is… the love of my life, Dad.  He is right downstairs waiting for me because the love we have for each other has been tested and proven to be unbreakable.  He's the one who turned my life around and supported me through all your shit, and he's the one that you almost killed so you deserve every aching bone in your disgusting, disheveled, profligate body and I'm not sorry for anything that ever happened to me because of you, because it was all part of this journey that led me to the one single person who could ever turn it around for me.”

Blaine rolls his eyes at himself, feeling the shakes of his voice overcome him.  He takes a breath to prevent the paralyzing thoughts to stop right there.  He continues.

“I couldn't offer him a damn thing back then, but he stayed with me, anyway, for years.  He dealt with my stubborn ass when I said no cops every single fucking time you laid a hand on me, and he literally picked me up off the side of the road, and he cleaned me up himself on his couch and then he pretended he couldn't hear me crying in his bed, even after his pillows were soaked.  You and Mom destroyed me to my core and for more than half of my life; I thought that was my destiny.  That was just how it was supposed to be, but all of your bullshit led me straight to Kurt.  My Kurt, who taught me that I deserved love, and it wasn't this distant thing I would never get my hands on.  He did that.  Not you, not my poor excuse for a mother.  Kurt showed me that, and he says I showed him right back even when I was at my lowest.  So, I'm here to thank you for absolutely nothing and to just... try to find some closure, I guess.  So good luck with all of this.”  He motions in disgust toward his father's casts, and black eyes, and gauze around his head and ribs.  “And every time you move even one muscle and wince in pain, you think of me because it took a hell of a lot longer to heal emotionally than it did physically and I am finally accepting of myself without your approval I fought for so long ago.”

Christian only scoffs and rolls his eyes but Blaine thinks he might actually see a tear rolling down his bruised and battered cheek.  He's so proud of himself, especially since he hadn't gone completely out of control.  He's concentrating on holding it all together at least until he leaves the hospital.

“You are an awful person who doesn't deserve to survive any of this.  You're nothing to me but a weak coward who picks on people who can't possibly fight you back.  You are a bully; a jealous bully who beats your own son down to size for being something you never expected.  I threw a wrench in your life with being gay and you didn't know how to fix it, so you tried to beat it out of me.  But guess what, father?  I'm still so beyond gay, it'll make your head explode, and I'm hopelessly in love with a man who loves me back in the same, intense, mind-blowing way.  And oh my God, Dad.  He taught me everything I know about love, physically and emotionally.”

He smirks at Christian's disgusted face.  He can't stop now.

“So go get fucked up the ass in prison, douchebag.  Trust me, it starts to feel good after you get used to the intrusion.  Although, I doubt your cellmates have the incredibly soft, delicate fingers my man has.  So you should be careful.  Wouldn't want them to tear anything… instrumental to the use of your intestines.”  Blaine ends the conversation by spitting as much phlegm as he could possibly cough up into Christian's face.  He twirls on the ball of his foot and walks out as if he's the most unaffected person to have ever walked the hospital hallway, disappearing into the turn of the elevator deck.

He makes a beeline for Kurt's car, inspired enough to jog and rip Kurt out of the car and kiss him hard on the mouth and beg him (again) to be with him (again).  He startles when Kurt's body goes flying up from the seat that must have been reclined all the way.  He tilts his head and grins at Kurt through the window, throws the door open and yanks him out of the driver's seat. 

xK&Bx

Kurt watches the grainy video in Willa's text message straight from the Brooklyn Bean in New York.  He taps his phone to his chin, staring into outer space, a compilation of stars and moons never able to tell him what to do.  Why can't someone tell me what to do?

Although his own relationship with Santana has been strained since Blaine's surprise visit to the loft, Kurt has been able to truly befriend her girlfriend, Willa.  He checks up on Santana through Willa frequently, easily enough given the fact that Willa is his employee at the Lima Bean.

For now, though, he only needs to know details of how Willa and Santana stumbled upon a seemingly cheating (if there is any indication through the video) Oliver.  Without even letting a simple hello out of Willa's mouth, he speaks quickly as soon as he hears the call connect.  “Willa, I swear to God if I find out you are lying or if Santana put you up to this because of all the time I'm spending with Bl-”

“Kurt, trust me.  I know she's gonna be all over it and I thought you might want to handle this quietly before she got off work.  I'm kinda surprised she hasn't tried to call you about it.  I'm back at your place waiting for her now.”

The words sting when Willa says them; the condo on 70th and Broadway is not Kurt's place anymore.  Maybe it will be again one day, but he doesn't let himself think about it too much.  He sighs. “I don't live there anymore, honey.  Just… you aren't fucking with me?”

“No!  Of course not.  He's so creepy, Kurt… and Santana nearly knocked him out but I convinced her we should hide and get the cocksucker on tape because I knew you wouldn't believe us.”

“I believe you.  He's been really possessive over the time I've been spending with Blaine, so yeah… I believe you.”

Kurt finds himself rocking crazily to the sounds of the Lucasville Life Center parking lot, patiently waiting for his Blaine to return emotionally undamaged, staring at his cell phone as Oliver continues to beep in on call waiting as he speaks with Willa on speakerphone.  This is the sixth voicemail that Kurt will delete without listening; he's not sure he cares enough to hear the explanation.

Then the text messages begin.

Oliver:  I know you know, Kurt.  Let me explain.

Sure, it hurts being cheated on no matter who the cheater is.  It's not earth shattering, though, as it was when Blaine left him.  He's comparing again.

“You only believe me because you have the video now.”  The mutual silence proves that much is true.  “Are you okay, Hummel?”

“Yeah, yeah.  I'll be fine.  I'm going to call Santana.  If she'll answer.”

Oliver:  Kurt, please.  I love you.

“That's a good idea.”  Kurt can almost see Willa's grin on the other side.  “What are you going to do about Oliver?”

“Well, for starters – and don't mock my craziness here – but I'm going to go on like nothing happened.  I can't be single right now.”

Oliver:  He's just my old college roommate.

“Tana said you'd probably say that.  It has to do with Blaine, doesn't it?  She talks about him like he's God.”

Kurt laughs.  “You'll understand when you meet him.  He's been really good for all of us.  I promise he's worth it for me.”  He inhales, allowing the air to jump out of him intermittently.  “The Bean is all good?”

Oliver:  You would have been with us if you were here, instead of taking care of your ex.

“The Bean is fine.  Please call me if you need anything at all, okay?”

“Of course, honey.  Thanks for keeping an eye out.”

“Talk soon.”

Kurt says bye and spends a few minutes of much-needed distraction on lowering the driver's seat until it's almost fully horizontal and he's staring through the skylight of the shiny, new BMW sedan.  He can still see enough out of the window to keep a lookout for Blaine.  He calls Santana and waits through the ringing.

“Can I say I fucking told you so now or what?  Not that I was trolling him all around the city, but I had a fucking feeling, Lady.”

“Willa tells me you talk about Blaine like he's God.  You know I don't believe in God, Tana.  That's a terrible way to suggest I don't believe in somebody I love very much.”

Santana squeals.  “Does that mean what I think it means?”  There's a beat.  “You guys are good?  How's Ohio?”

“Loaded question, Striptease.”

Santana laughs.  “Take me through it?  Where are you?  You know I hate being called while Blaine fucking Anderson is underneath your sweaty, old body.”

Kurt makes it a point to always ignore every crude comment she offers.  “Lucasville.  Christian Anderson was beat up in prison and the Warden told B basically that if he had any last words or whatever to say to him, he should do it now.  So here I am, sitting in the car waiting for him to come back so we can get the hell away from his father once and for all.”

“Shit.  Are you okay?  Is he okay?”

“I don't know, apparently he's on his deathbed, which is ironic if you ask me.”

“Not him, idiot.  Do you really think I care about him?  How's Anderballs?”

“Oh, right.  Blaine will be okay, I think.  He's inside visiting now, and I'm waiting in the car.  We've had a good couple of days, for the most part.”  He sighs.  “There has been some kissing.”  Kurt inhales.  “I'm getting closer to trying again.”

“Yes!  All the irrational and disgusting sparks as always?  No nightmares because obviously you two spent some time horizontally glued to each other as any other pair of ex-boyfriends would over the holidays.” 

If Kurt has to pick one incredibly amazing thing about Santana that he loves the most, it's that they pick up right where they left off after every single argument.

“Santana.”  He sighs again.  “Of course there are nightmares.  Have you met me?”  There's a beat.  “Are you moving back to Brooklyn now that we love each other again?  Sorry, by the way.”

“Fuck, no!  Not until you turn the second bedroom on 70th Street into a fucking nursery.  I love the high life, Hummel.”

“Shut up.  It's not that serious.”  Yet.

“Whatever.  You assholes give me a lot of hope in the love department, so you better be all shacked up and obsessed with each other soon.”

There's a comfortable silence.  This is his second favorite part about Santana.  She actually does know when to shut up, although she doesn't really think about it all the time.

“What?”  She asks.  She obviously wants to know what he's thinking.  She can't read his mind.

“I'm not going to break up with Oliver.”  He offers, his voice going quiet to the point where Santana probably has to strain to hear the words. 

“Kurt!  Dude-”

“Hear me out!  If I break up with him, I'll be single.  If I'm single around Blaine, you know just as well as I do that it would be equally as toxic as it was before.  We'd just fall right back into what we used to be without any preamble and that's not fair to either of us.”  He's rambling.  “And we'll be fine, probably for a few years or whatever but eventually, it'll come crumbling down because we didn't take our time to line everything up in the best way.  Then I'll be forty and newly single and I'll never get married or worse, I'd be an old divorced graying gay man with kids who hate me.”

“Oh my God.  Hummel, I think you need to back up and tell me exactly what a ‘good couple of days' means to you.  Because if this is how you feel after some scruffy-ass make-out session, then you are seriously derang-”

“I can't!  He's back.  Call you later, Tana!  Love you!”  He hits end on his phone and throws it into the cup holder, slamming his seat back into the upright position.  He watches Blaine approach, nearly skipping through the parking lot.  Kurt bangs at the lock controls to open the door, and allows Blaine to rip him right out of the car.  When he looks into Blaine's glistening eyes, Blaine chokes on a sob that escapes and Kurt's never seen him so… falsely happy, like he's been through the worst hell there is.  He sees right through the walls.

Blaine connects his body fully to Kurt's, hips crashing together first followed by the rest of their fronts, making them one as he devours Kurt's face with his lips.  Kurt grants permission to the dominance Blaine so surely needs in this kiss, but breaks it when hands explore and squeeze a little too sexually, especially for a public parking lot near a Midwestern hospital.  There's bound to be abortion protesters nearby that certainly have the same views about gay people.

xK&Bx

“Hi.”  Kurt says, sounding weary and shaky and unsure if Blaine will ever want to talk about it.

“Hey, hubby.”  Blaine says as he dances around the back of the car to get to the other side, making it clear that he does not want to discuss it yet.  He opens the passenger side door and folds his forearms against the roof of the car, staring shamelessly at Kurt.  “Get in the car, pretty boy.  Take me home.”

They drive off in silence after what appears to be an internal fight between Kurt and his brain, Blaine tapping on the window glass to the rhythm of whatever song is on the radio.  Kurt keeps looking over at him; Blaine sees it through his periphery, like Kurt is checking in with him silently every five seconds. 

As the past hour floods back, the tension builds for Blaine until his ears are swimming and he's seeing stars.  He's dizzy and he tastes vomit in a sour burp.  Seconds before Kurt is about to merge onto the highway, Blaine can't take it anymore.  He screams.  “Kurt, pull over!”

Kurt's too late in his comprehension; Blaine projectile vomits all over the side of the door as he attempts to open it.  He stumbles out and into the grass on the side of the road, sitting with his knees bent up, launching anything he's ever eaten over to the side of his body, a souvenir Ohio can keep.  “Fuck.”

Kurt's at his side now, trying to ease him into a comfortable place in his mind, all with unspoken words of love and forever and support.  He's simply rubbing circles into his back, suggesting the need for Blaine to take his time and breathe.  Blaine opens his mouth and closes it immediately; he wants to say so much. 

Blaine stares at Kurt wide-eyed and more scared than he's ever been.  His heaving chest is erratic as he launches into a full-blown panic attack that can't be composed.  He hugs at his knees and kisses his forehead to them; breathing so hard he can't even feel life in each inhale as he hyperventilates.  Shaky exhales come few and far between and he can absently hear Kurt's words, a tone so comforting it makes him dimly aware of exactly how alive Kurt is and exactly how dead he could have been.  Every issue he's been dealing with within the past few days, weeks, years surfaces right here right now on the side of the highway ramp.

“Kurt, I-I-I… oh, God.”   He's never really had a dad, but knowing that he's lost him anyway hurts all the same.  He gasps and gulps repeatedly for survival; he can't seem to attract any air to his lungs regardless of what he tries and he's more flustered than anything as he tries to calm his nerves with Kurt by his side. 

“Okay, B.  You're okay.  Don't speak until you've calmed down.  You're okay, I'm right here, I'm so proud of you.”  Kurt winces as he pulls off his own Henley and crumples it up to wipe at Blaine's mouth.  “I have a bottle of water in the car.  Do you need it?”

“Need you.”

“Okay, honey.  I've got you, I'm right here.”  Blaine feels it in his bones as Kurt rubs at Blaine's shoulder and mimics the bent stance of his legs.  Blaine lowers his forehead again to attach to his knees and focuses on just breathing and the scent of Kurt and the fact that Kurt is shirtless literally inches away from him. 

It takes a solid ten minutes to force his head up to glance at Kurt, staring back at him with worry but finally no pity for once.

“Need that water yet?”

Blaine nods once, diligently watching as Kurt beams back at him and jumps to his feet to scramble through the backseat of the car.  A triumphant ah-ha is celebrated and Kurt is welcomed back into the spot to Blaine's left, the spot without the vomit.  He untwists the cap for Blaine and feeds it to his mouth like a baby's bottle, like a baby goat at the petting zoo.  The angle is awkward and his neck hurts by being pushed up to dangle the water bottle, but he sucks on it anyway.  He can only allow this behavior because he's too lazy to lift his hands and hold something as heavy as water. 

“Swish and spit.”

Blaine complies with a slight eye-roll and everything seems… okay.  He forces himself to take the bottle from Kurt and takes another large swig before cupping some in his hand and splashing it on his face.  He sighs and looks back to Kurt.  “Sorry.”

“Shh.  I'm really happy you survived him.”

“Mmmm, me too.  I'm happy you did too.” 

Of course, they both know exactly what he's referring to.  It's kind of hard to miss the topic of conversation, given where they are: on the side of the road minutes from where Christian Anderson is handcuffed to a hospital bed.  Kurt tries to get a real thought out of Blaine.  “So…”

“Sew your pants, pretty boy.”  Blaine grins.  “I'm fine.”

Kurt smirks and rolls his eyes.  “Yeah?”

Blaine nods.  “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Distract me with something else for now.”

Kurt taps his finger to his chin as though he's trying to figure out the next mathematical equation that works one hundred percent of the time.  It looks like he knows what he wants to say but he's not sure if it's something Blaine can handle right now.  He inhales and goes for it anyway, playing it out and keeping a careful eye on Blaine throughout the next sentence out of his mouth.  “Umm, so I'm pretty sure Oliver is cheating on me.”

“Whoa.”  Blaine rests his arms and head back on his knees, only looking to Kurt for a continuation.   “Want me to kick his ass?”

“No.  I like driving around wherever we want with you instead of being confined to four miles.”  He grins, showing Blaine it's a joke, and continues.  “I didn't care, really.  It's just more reason to stay in Ohio after the holiday, until at least after Christmas and I think that's what I really need.”

“Kurt.”  Blaine sighs.  “You're running again.  You and I both know that hiding doesn't solve shit.”

“I didn't run after you and that would have solved a lot, I think.”

Blaine can only stare into the nothing in front of his eyes, a lump in his throat.  He feels like he won't be able to say it the way it should come out, but continues anyway.  “I started telling Christian how everything is… the way it is with no help from him but I finally realized that it had everything to do with him, didn't it?”

“Well, probably not everything.”  Kurt smiles.  “I didn't run after you and I let you go, and even if your reasoning behind moving away from me had to do with Christian, I probably could have stopped you if I tried hard enough.”

“It was all him.  He chased me away from New York, if that makes sense, not you.  Do you know that?”

“I do know that now, but it took me a really long time to realize that without your help.”

“I'm sorry.”

Kurt waves him off.  “I'm just happy we can forgive each other now.”

“Maybe I needed to mature by myself?”

“Mmmm, told you so!”  Kurt's face lights up like a little boy.  He looks so young.  “When you were eighteen years old begging me to come with you to New York, I told you that!”

Blaine laughs and looks back at him.  “Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh come on!  When you finally decided you wanted to go to college at all, you know I told you that you needed to experience it without the old man bringing you down.  That was probably why you were so stressed toward the end, anyway.  I should have stood my ground.  I didn't want you to think I didn't want you, though.  I didn't want you to know that you could go somewhere and I wouldn't follow.  That happened anyway, didn't it?  I've failed you.”

“I don't know what to say.  I was a terrible boyfriend to you.”

“I've had a few more than you in my day, and you were the best of all of them.  You weren't a terrible boyfriend.”

“I was, but I think I needed to fail to open my eyes a bit.”

“Maybe that's true.  How did you leave it with Christian?”

“I think I saw a few tears, and I might have spit in his face.”

Kurt rests his head and shakes his shoulders quietly, signaling a laugh. “Okay.”

“Are you really good about Oliver?”

“It hurts, but only because he was supposed to be loyal to me.”

“Kurt.”  Blaine laughs.  “Babe, isn't that a little hypocritical?”

When Kurt just stares at him, Blaine only shakes his head and laughs without any sound. 

“I know it is, of course I know it is.  But if I'm not mistaken, I thought that he felt about me the way I feel about you and I can't imagine doing that to someone who I care so deeply about.  I'm not making any sense.”

“No, I get it.”

Kurt smiles and flutters his eyelashes.  “Besides, hello?  Have you seen me?  No one should cheat on this.”

“I have seen you and I agree.  Anyone who willingly walks away from you is a fucking idiot who deserves to wallow for the rest of his life.”

“Don't turn this into the pity show, Blaine.  Cheating is the end all, be all.  Anything else is… fixable.”

“Moving across the country with no notice because I was too much of a coward to stand up to myself and this escalating idea of everyone hating me because of the family I was born into?”

“We're fixing that now, aren't we?”

Blaine grins and nods.  “You are the perfect distraction, pretty boy.  Can we go home now?”

Kurt jumps to his feet and pulls Blaine up by his wrists.  He takes him in to hug.  “I love you, honey.”

“Love you too.”

Kurt takes his shirt back and wipes the open door to rid it of humanly liquids.  “You're paying for the car wash.”

Blaine laughs.  “Oh, okay.  Because buying the whole fucking car wasn't enough.”

“Ah ha!  You admit it!”

“Shit.”  Blaine's smiling and shaking his head, his heart slowly mending from the events today.  “Smart and pretty.  I hit the jackpot.”  He takes another swish and spit of any remaining water.  “Honestly, I just wanted to make sure you would keep it.  I had a feeling you'd try to give it back to the dealership if you knew it came from me.”

Kurt steps back from the car and smiles at Blaine.  “Thanks for the Beemer, sugar daddy.”

As a response, Blaine slams Kurt's back into the rear door of the car and corners him into his grasp.  He brings his lips to Kurt, slamming them into his face at the last second, releasing all of his emotion from the day into Kurt's mouth.  He smiles into it and breaks away, shifting Kurt down the side of the car a bit so he can open his own door and climb in.  He leaves Kurt there to take a breath and revel in it for a minute.  Blaine waits patiently in the car, buckling up and adjusting the back of his seat until it's at the perfect angle. 

Eventually, Kurt hops into his own seat and looks at Blaine, shaking his head fondly.  He opens the glove compartment and pops in a piece of gum, looking at Blaine to offer him one as well.

Blaine takes a piece and smiles around it.  “Sorry for the puke.”

Kurt gives him a pointed look.

“What?  I'm not allowed to kiss my gorgeous, shirtless ex-boyfriend slash best friend who is recently single?  I think we should go to Scandals tonight.  Celebrate.  Feel free not to replace the shirt.”

Kurt starts the car and looks in the mirror to gauge the traffic level coming around the curve.  “I never said I was breaking up with him, babe.”

Blaine sputters and turns his hips toward Kurt.  “I'm sorry, what?”  He peels his hoodie off and wordlessly hands it to Kurt, who unbuckles, puts it on, rebuckles, and merges onto the highway.

“He knows I know, but I'm staying with him for now.”  Kurt looks to Blaine, if only for a reaction.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am serious.  Willa told me all about it just now on the phone and I just... I can't be single right now, but I know it happened.  Santana took video proof.”

“Who the fuck is Willa?”

“Oh!  The Julie of the New York Lima Bean.  She's amazing and she's dating Santana, I think.”

“Will I meet her?”

“Well, I hope so.  She's one of my closest friends.  You'll love her.”

“Kurt.”

“What?”

Blaine sighs and shakes his head.  He wants to meet all of Kurt's new friends as his boyfriend, not as his ex.  “Why?”  He looks to Kurt and then out the window, seemingly shutting down again.  “He can cheat and basically do whatever he wants while you're not around and keep you?  How does that make any sense?”

“I have a reason to dump him at any time I want, now.  He knows a lot about you, you know.  I think he might be getting suspicious.”

Blaine stares out the window.  “Of what exactly Kurt?  Remember?  We're not together.  You're resisting again?  You know, my father… my piece of shit, disgusting father would have been so satisfied if I told him the truth about us.”

Kurt sighs and continues driving, tapping his fingertips to the steering wheel in the beat matching the radio. 

“Blaine.”

“What?”  Blaine snaps and swallows.  He whispers, “Sorry.”

“You didn't do anything wrong.  But I will tell you something you're doing wrong right now.  You're still searching for his damn approval.  You have to stop that if you really want to survive him.”  He pauses.  “I'm staying with Oliver for now for reasons that I can't really explain right now.  Just trust me.”

“Kurt, please.”

“No!  You need to understand that any resistance I'm fighting you on is because I want to do this right so that it lasts and it has nothing to do with whether or not Christian fucking Anderson thinks it's right or wrong.  Everyone else in both of our lives… everyone else is a casualty in this grand love story of ours and nothing matters except you…” Kurt takes Blaine's hand across the console, looking at him quickly and squeezes, “you and me.  Why is it that I'm still trying to get that through your thick head, six years later?”  He puts his hand back on the steering wheel.  “You don't get to throw him in my face to guilt me into this thing.  Because he is the last thing on my mind when I look at you.  Right up there with Oliver and anyone else who has ever wronged either one of us.”  Kurt looks at Blaine again.  “I may not know all the details of your life since you left a few years ago, and you don't know everything about me anymore, but Jesus Christ, Blaine.  It's all I can do to make this right, and real, and ever-fucking-lasting, if it's the last thing I try to do in my entire life.  Everyone else be damned.”

“That's enough, Kurt.  I'm serious.”  Blaine is openly crying now, if only for the perfect speech Kurt's had locked up deep down inside of him, reserved for only Blaine. 

“Fine, just remember that I'm fighting for you and I'm on your side and you and I make it in the end.  I'm not resisting to be mean, or even to come off as a challenge.  I'm resisting this time to right our wrongs and set the stone for the rest of our lives together.”

The rest of the way back to Lima is nearly silent, with Blaine angry with himself for not capturing any closure at all in the realm of his father and angry with Kurt for letting another man walk all over him but refusing to allow Blaine to fix his own mistakes and angry still at himself for being so obviously affected by Kurt's words.  It's not fair that Oliver can have all of Kurt right now even though he's undeniably Blaine's.  He wants to wrap him up and hold him close until Oliver disappears forever.

As Kurt pulls in behind his dad's car at the house, Blaine wipes his silent tears and smiles at Kurt. 

“I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up.  And that I snap at you constantly.”

Kurt smiles at Blaine and shrugs.  “We're all a little fucked up.  That's why we worked so well, yeah?  And it's why we'll work again.  I promise.”

“I'm like one of those little wind-up toys in those fucking kid's meals, pretty.  That's what you do to me.”

Kurt shrugs and smiles again and exits the car, leading the way up toward the house.  He waits for Blaine on the porch.  “You're okay?”

“Yeah.”  Blaine runs up the stairs and allows his fingers to brush Kurt's back as he tramples into the house.  “We're back!”  

There's a bang and a shatter coming from the kitchen, so Kurt goes to inspect as Blaine goes to brush his teeth quickly and quietly.

When he returns downstairs, the kitchen looks like something blew up and no one took cover.  There's flour smeared across a cutting board and a dough roller haphazardly thrown about across the island, and Burt is hovering over the crock pot, stirring whatever's been left in there for hours, ignoring a shattered plate at his feet.

Blaine enters the room and blinks at Burt aimlessly stirring like it's the answer to time travel.  He looks at Kurt who stands off to the side, stunned with a hand over his mouth and eyes wide.

“Uhh, Burt?”  Blaine blinks.

Burt turns around quickly, startled.  “Hey!  I tried to make some Hummel favorites for you two but nothing's ready yet.  Just a little while longer.”

“This is chaos, Dad.  What the hell are you doing?”  Kurt moves to try to clean up the island but gives up when he gets there.

“Be nice.”  Burt replies with a shrug.  “How'd it go?”  He stares directly at Blaine.

“Fine.”  Blaine doesn't meet anyone's eyes and nods, getting a can of Coke and sitting at the table to crack it open.  He looks up at them, giving pointed looks to each other, and huffs.  “It was fine, as fine as I expected.  Seriously.”

Kurt comes up behind him and Blaine feels light pressure on both of his shoulders as Kurt places his hands, probably just to touch.  Against all of his instincts telling him that he should not allow Kurt to touch, he sighs and sits there for several minutes watching Burt stir whatever it is in the crock pot.  Kurt starts to rub at Blaine's shoulders, not quite a massage but something that could have the potential to calm Blaine if he let it.

Blaine simply stills Kurt's hands with his own and squeezes.  He pushes the chair out to signify he wants to get up and when Kurt takes his hands back to himself and steps backward once, Blaine's able to stand.  “I'm going to go… lie down for a while.  Long day.  Don't let me nap for more than an hour or two?  Maybe we can go to Breadstix after?”  He looks to Kurt to wake him up at a reasonable hour.

Kurt nods.  Blaine disappears.

Crashing into Finn's old bed, he wonders what people always want from him.  He's always expected to hold it together, to not sob like a child, and only because the shit he's been through is something he should be used to by now.  He's not allowed to be shown as weak or lonely; he can only always keep it together.  He should be able to suck it up, brush it off, and carry on.  He's been so affected about Kurt allowing him back into his life, as now the drama with his father, the fact that his mother is still a homophobic bitch, and having to resort to his ex-boyfriend's family to be his own.  The revelation hits then:  the only person putting pressure on himself to keep it all together is him.

He loves Burt and Carole as much as he loves Kurt, but in an entirely different form.  They are both greater parents than he'd ever hope to have, and they love him regardless of the issues their actual son had with him in the past.  That's really big of both of them, and he's forever grateful for the simple decision on their part to stay neutral.

But they are not his family by definition.  He wishes that his biological parents would be as amazing as Burt and Carole have been over the course of these last few years.  He can wish until he's blue in the face – it's never going to happen.

He startles at the light triple-knock at the door and figures it's Kurt so he grumbles a noise that is not a word, indicating that the door is open and he can come in.  His eyes slide to the moving door and then to Carole who smiles warmly and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Hi, honey.”

“I was just thinking about you.”  Blaine shifts and sits up so he's comfortable, at least physically.  “About how you guys have been amazing to me, even if I'm not with Kurt anymore, and how I wish I could have this with my real parents.  When did you get home?”

“Kurt asked me home early because we're going out to eat.  Blaine, your parents are a special breed.  We're all really proud of you for going to see him anyway.”

“I think this is why I met Kurt… for the sake of family.  It means a lot that you didn't just push me away when we broke up.”

Carole captures Blaine's shoulders in a tight hug then pulls away to see his face.  “You don't know how much joy it gives me to hear you say we're your family.  How did it go with your dad?”

“I said some pretty hurtful things I couldn't really control.  That part was normal, everything I was sort of expecting from myself, you know?  Standing in front of him, I finally realized how okay I am getting to be without him.  Without them both.”

“You are, and I'm so proud of you.”  Carole sighs and shifts her head into a tilt.  “You're perfectly okay without him.”

“Not really though.  He's the one who set my life the way I've lived it so far, and the reason why I left Columbia, and ultimately the reason why I moved away and lost Kurt.”

“Think further back, though honey.  He's the reason why you lived in Ohio at all, so he's the reason why you went to the Lima Bean that day, isn't he?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“He gave you life in the first place.  I'm in no way defending him, okay? Because I think he is the most vile man in the world and you will always have a home here because you are our family, Blaine.  Try to think of the good.  You can't find the closure you're searching for until you think back on the good.”

“He cried.”

“Good.  Monsters like him usually don't.  I'm happy you got him there.”

Blaine laughs through his tears.  “I guess so.”  He shakes his head.  “Told him he deserved to die and that me and Kurt were fine despite all his efforts and-” He cuts himself off because Kurt comes in and wordlessly crushes his bones into a hug fit for a king.

Blaine whispers the rest of his intended sentence directly into Kurt's ear, hooking his chin to his shoulder and squeezing closer and tighter against Kurt's chest.  “That we'll never stop loving each other, even though that was his plan.”

“You are never leaving me ever again, Blaine Anderson.  So you can forget about all your escape routes right now.  If I have to hire a babysitter, I will.”

“Lock me up and throw away the key, pretty.  I'm yours.”