Chapter 21

Songs used in this chapter: 
Daft Punk – Get Lucky
Billy Joel – Just The Way You Are

As usual, the boys fall into a routine together and they make it work as flawlessly as they can with Blaine's schedule and Kurt's inability to do much of anything.   Because Kurt is out of commission for a while and can't drive until his doctor's approval, Blaine borrows Kurt's car to take to school sometimes so it's easier to get to the Lima Bean and back in a timely fashion.  Saturday mornings are set aside for their weekly work session, although Kurt's parents insist they can help, too.  Kurt ignores Burt and Carole every time it's brought up as Blaine snickers while setting everything they'll need that day on the kitchen table. They spread out and discuss everything that's happened at the Lima Bean the past seven days.  Kurt's well enough to think about payroll and ordering supplies and scheduling.  They sit for hours over homemade breakfast and lattes, going through anything they can from Blaine's notes of the overall operations from the week prior.  Whatever Kurt can do from his laptop, he does, and Blaine takes over any task that Kurt needs for the general operation of the coffee shop to run smoothly while his boyfriend betters himself at home.  It's a hybrid team effort, and somehow it all works.

On the third Saturday morning, Burt walks in on Blaine waiting on Kurt hand and foot.  They have seemingly set up shop in the living room rather than their usual spot in the kitchen and Kurt has his leg elevated, as he should, barking out the end of an order just as the door vibrates with a slam.

“-Blaine?  Please make sure you put ice so it stays cold.”

Blaine slides into the living room seconds later with a tall glass of iced tea, complete with a freshly sliced lemon balancing on the rim.  He hands the drink to Kurt, who smiles brightly at him in thanks, before Blaine takes off again with their dirty plates from breakfast.  He finds his way back into the kitchen, turning around at the last second to make sure that Kurt's not too cold and that he doesn't need to grab another blanket from the closet in the hallway.

Kurt says, “Whenever you get a minute.  No big deal, babe.”  And this is when Burt snaps.  Blaine's rushing around the kitchen to straighten up and put unused ingredients back where they belong while the sink fills up with sudsy water.  He jogs back into the hallway and gets Kurt's requested blanket. 

There's a faint sound of a kiss to the surface of skin before Burt's got Blaine back into his line of vision.  He moves closer to Blaine and observes for one more second before he speaks up.

“He will unintentionally run you to the depths of hell trying to take care of him.”

Blaine startles at the sink at the sound of his boyfriend's father's voice.

“Holy crap, Burt!  Warn a guy before you talk!”  Blaine smiles half-heartedly at him before turning to shut the water off, almost overflowed in the sink.

“You need a break.  Know anything about cars?”

“No.”

“All the more reason to learn.”

From this Saturday on, Blaine reluctantly breaks himself away from Kurt around lunchtime to head to Hummel's Tire and Lube to help Burt until about three before they call it a day and go together to the apartment over the Lima Bean.  They work to check in on the coffee shop, redecorate the apartment upstairs (a slow and grueling process), take pictures of the progress for Kurt's approval, and head home for dinner around seven.  This is every Saturday of every week.  Blaine thrives in a structured schedule, especially when he's busy getting things done, even if he misses Kurt in the meantime.

xK&Bx

There's one Saturday in particular, though, when Kurt is obviously and completely uncomfortable, hardly even speaking to Blaine, having tripped and twisted his bad leg only an hour earlier trying to make it to the restroom and back without requiring any help.

Blaine plops down on the couch next to Kurt and looks at him, pain in his eyes and a frown on his lips.  “I don't believe you.”

Kurt keeps contact with the couch but turns his neck slowly to look over at Blaine.  “You don't believe me?”

“When you say you're fine.”

“Oh, don't start.  I am fine.  You need to go to the shop and then to the Lima Bean if you want and then come home to me with dinner.  I'm fine, baby.”

“You're not fine, Kurt!  You're uncomfortable and probably still in serious pain despite me filling you up with any painkiller you're allowed to have and you want me to just leave you like this when actually I'm the one who should have a broken whatever and be housebound for months.  I should be suffering, not you.”

“I have a suspicious feeling that your father knows that your emotional suffering hurts more than beating you up because you were actually sort of used to that, weren't you?  And he knows you care about me enough to hate the sight of me housebound for months, don't you?”

Blaine sighs and takes his hand.  “I'm staying with you today.  I don't care if that's considered my father winning whatever fucked up game we're playing with him.  I want to make sure you're okay.”

“You don't have to stay with me.” 

“I am, though.”

“If you must.  But you don't have to.”  Kurt's lips point up and Blaine has to bite the bottom one; there's no other choice.  They kiss with passion and break away in the same second.

“I've been thinking about something a lot lately.  I want to apologize to you.”

Kurt leans back and looks Blaine in the eye.  “Blaine.  It's still not your fault.  It wasn't your fault two days ago when we had this conversation and it's not going to be your fault in a week when we have it again.  Stop.”

“No, pretty.  Hear me out.  When we first met, over the summer.  I was really mean to you at first and I said a lot of things that I didn't mean.  I've been thinking about the first few times that we spoke and I'm really sorry I was the way I was.”

“Oh, Blaine.”

“I'm just really happy right now and I regret how we started.”

“But then it wouldn't be as exciting!  Sometimes, I feel like I live in a video game with you.”

Blaine laughs and repositions his body to snuggle into Kurt lightly.  “Don't start naming your Atari games, old man.”

“I'm happy you're staying home today.”  Kurt rests his head on Blaine's hair and sighs.

“Hurting you?”

“Shhhh.  We're napping now.”  Kurt grabs the remote, conveniently laid out next to him on the couch, and hits play for whatever DVD is already in the player.  They settle into a position for the entirety of the afternoon, nowhere to be but with each other.

xK&Bx

The twelfth Saturday creeps up on them, and Kurt can finally breathe easier.  Progress is being made, and every gasp of air no longer feels like he's lacking the oxygen necessary in his lungs, and the once-shifted ribs begin to settle back to their original positions.  His three-month checkup since coming home from the hospital comes back with positive test results, and the doctor is ready to remove the uncomfortably itchy cast on his leg the following Wednesday. 

It's been a long road to the physical recovery and he's not quite seeing the light to one hundred percent just yet, but so much closer than three months ago.  Santana's been there for him virtually every weekday in between appointments to help keep his spirits up and to fetch anything he needs while Blaine and his parents are at school or work, respectively.  Blaine has been there whenever he can with his incredible optimism Kurt never realized he had to begin with.  Burt comes home for lunch more often than not during the week, mainly to check in with his son, and Carole maintains a text conversation almost constantly to the point where Kurt wonders if she even works in the Emergency Room at all.  He wholeheartedly concludes that he's a lucky guy to have such love in his life, all of his loved ones dedicated completely to his recovery and mental health. 

Wednesday afternoon comes quickly; the early spring air is finally mild instead of the harsh brisk air they've had to deal with for too long.

(Kurt is grateful his immobility took him through the dead of winter – at least he had an excuse to watch from the window as Burt and Blaine shoveled all the cars out of mountains of snow on an almost-daily basis.  Every single time, Blaine would come inside, freezing but sweating and on the verge of hypothermia with frozen fingertips, a Rudolph-red nose and icicles forming on his eyelashes.  It's always been Kurt's job to warm him up with a squeeze to his torso, a kiss to any part of his face he could reach, and a cheek to his chest.)

Kurt takes one last sip of his iced tea, the glass already creating a ring on the coffee table from the condensation (why Burt Hummel doesn't own a coaster is beyond him), and launches himself up on his crutches to putz around the kitchen.  Blaine lured him to the bedroom right after dinner last night for the first time since forever, so there wasn't much time for clean-up.  Cringing when he looks into the sink, Kurt hops to the stereo and presses play on his iPod stationed there, and starts to fill the sink, squirting soap so it bubbles and foams.  Hand washing is so much easier these days than bending to place items into the dishwasher.  He doesn't mind it though; he reminisces back to college when there was no option.

xK&Bx

Blaine charges the door and flies through it, throwing his messenger bag into the corner of the foyer in one fluid moment.  “Pretty boyyyy!”

At the hint of muffled music, he stalks to the kitchen where he finds Kurt leaning against the sink with one crutch under his armpit, scrubbing at a pot used last night. 

The casted leg is eerily still but the rest of his body is bopping to the music coming through the stereo.  Daft Punk has been Kurt's favorite since he was Blaine's age, and he's been in a habit of rediscovering their old stuff lately with nothing better to do.

The present has no ribbon
Your gift keeps on giving,
What is this I'm feeling?
If you wanna leave I'm ready

We've come too far to give up who we are
So let's raise the bar and our cups to the stars

Blaine takes a minute to watch his boyfriend's modest dancing and he falls even further into the depths of love.  He watches for another minute, then calls out to him. 

“Pretty.”

Kurt sucks in air and turns his head to look at his beautiful Blaine.  His smile is bright, genuine, completed only as Blaine steps closer.  “You're home.” 

“I am.”  Blaine comes behind Kurt and sweeps his fingertips across the small of his back before sliding his hands in his front pockets, accelerating himself up on his tippy-toes and hooking his chin to Kurt's shoulder.  “Hi.”  He says, kissing his cheek and lingering for a few seconds too long.

“Get into any fights today, my beautiful, tiny delinquent?”

Blaine laughs.  “Shut up.  Are you about ready to go?”

“Mmmm, we have a half hour or so before we have to leave.”

At Blaine's wiggling eyebrows and seductive, dark eyes, Kurt rolls his eyes and hops again on his good leg across the kitchen and into a chair facing the table, leaving two pans to soak. He propels his casted leg to rest, elevated on the perpendicular chair.  “It's weird being here alone all day.  I feel like I'm playing hooky from high school for months at a time.”

“Mmmm, if only you were in high school right now!  Kurt, we could actually go twice sometimes!” Blaine grins.

“Hello boys.”  Burt glares and drops the mail on the counter as he walks into the kitchen. Blaine blushes an entirely new color on a palette that doesn't exist, focusing on the pile of mail in the distance.  Kurt grins at him and shakes his head.

“Awkward times at Ridgemont High, Blaine?”  Burt is laughing.  He definitely heard his line.

“Huh?”  He gets up to avoid further humiliation over something he could never change and sifts through the mail.  He pretends to separate it into isolated piles by name of recipient and shoves the letter from Columbia into his pocket, folding and crinkling the paper envelope.  He delivers each pile of mail to Kurt and Burt and sits back down where he was. 

“Oh my God, Dad.  He doesn't get the reference, he was literally born in like 1994 or something.”  Kurt tries to defend his boyfriend, but it just turns into Burt laughing harder. 

“1995, actually.”  Blaine's blush rises to the tip of his ears as he mumbles the correct information.

“Ew.”  Kurt jokes.  Kind of.

This enables Burt's laughter to vibrate through the kitchen, a rumble that can be heard on a different wavelength.  “You keep stealing those cradles, Kurt.  As your father, let it be known that I'm fucking proud of you.”  Burt slaps his son's shoulder and grabs a bottle of water.  “Let me know when you guys are ready to go.  I'll drive.”  He exits the same way he came in and turns on a March Madness game.

“1995?  Really?”  Kurt shudders.  He was listening to Ace of Base and Mariah Carey, twirling around his room in 1995.  In 1995, Kurt's mother was alive.

He stares out into space with a fond smile for just a second before snapping out of it.  “Don't worry baby, I hardly get that reference.  I don't think I was even born before that movie came out.”

“What movie?”

Kurt laughs so hard his ribs hurt. 

Blaine groans.  Sometimes, he really wishes he were Kurt's age.

“Kurt, are you sure you're actually okay with my age?  It's nothing I can change as much as I wish I could, but I don't want you to resent me later for it… I'm just giving you an out, I guess.”

“Blaine.”

Blaine stares at Kurt; a grimaced and worried look lies deep within his frown lines.  “It just really sucks that you make fun of me for something I can't make better.”  The boy literally pouts, feeling as deflated as any popped and dead balloon in a hailstorm.

“Shut up.  I love you, even if you were born in 1995.  Shut up.”

“Okay, whatever pretty boy.  I gotta pee.”  Blaine gets up and kisses his forehead, disappearing upstairs to the bedroom, the envelope in his pocket weighing heavy on his heart.

Sitting on the corner of the mattress, he pulls out the piece of paper that could make or break his entire life.  If he were being honest, he's not sure when the time came that he actually cared about getting in, but here he is, holding a lifeless, bent envelope with his heart beating out of his chest at a rapid pace.  He holds the corners once it's unfolded and stares down at the return address from the Upper West Side.  He runs his finger over the raised ink of the Columbia University seal on the back.  He takes a deep breath and rips it open.  Crumbling the envelope into a fist and throwing it across the room, he grasps the single piece of paper inside and holds it, still folded into threes.

He places it down on the desk and falls backwards onto the comforter.  His hands cover his face and he hyperventilates for a few seconds.  His will is strong now; he knows what he needs to do. 

He rises again and unfolds the piece of paper, reading the first line of the letter.

Dear Mr. Blaine Anderson,

Congratulations!  We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to Columbia University in New York.

He drops the letter and watches it float to the ground like a feather on a cloud.  He lets out one short, high-pitched shriek and jumps on the bed, slamming his knees to the mattress.  He flails his arms and allows another sound out of his mouth.

“Um, Blaine?  You okay?”  Kurt's worrisome voice calls out to him from the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh.  Uhhhh, spider in the bathroom…” Blaine lies through the grin.  This is just the beginning. 

“Get yourself together, we have to go in a few minutes.”

“I'm ready in a second.”  He lies back down and hugs his pillow. 

He barges downstairs and for the rest of the car ride to the doctor his grin doesn't disappear.  When Kurt and Burt ask (multiple times), he excuses it as the fact that Kurt is finally getting better and this is just the beginning.  This is just the beginning.  God, let it be better than the past.

xK&Bx

Blaine can't stop staring at the thin, naked chicken-leg attached to his boyfriend.  “It literally looks like a really long toddler.  Your leg is so long, Kurt.”

“It's weird to bend.”

“The doctor said it would be weird.  And to use the crutches if you still feel you need them.”  Blaine still stares at the leg.  It looks inhuman.

“I know, Blaine.  I was there.”

“Sorry.  I just…”

“I know.”

Kurt seems a bit off, like his thoughts are too distracting for it to be unobvious.  He looks out the window with a glazed look on his eyes.  It's like he's not really seeing, just looking.  Blaine observes his overall demeanor and tugs on his hand to make sure Kurt realizes the reality of the support system he has, following him wherever he goes.

xK&Bx

Pizza at Breadstix has become a tradition for every time they come from the doctor.  Blaine likes to think it's because everyone loves pizza and it's delicious, but Blaine can't help but remember the contraption that has been one with his ankle over these past ten months and exactly how conscious of it Kurt and his family are.

Kurt without crutches is still substantially slow compared to Kurt at Thanksgiving.  They are unhurried and careful in stepping up into the house and Blaine eventually disperses Kurt to his spot on the couch.  Burt follows immediately behind with dinner, setting it directly on the coffee table in front of Kurt.  The pizza box is opened, the television is turned on, the paper plates are found, and the Diet Coke is poured from the cans to the glasses.  The boys snuggle, they eat; they watch.  They love.  It's all that matters right now and for always; they love.  Burt lies terribly about catching up on emails again, but Kurt is grateful, in this moment, for a father who could take a hint.

After half an episode of Kardashians running around Los Angeles like they shit fully bloomed red roses, Blaine looks over at Kurt who's not really watching for the storyline, just staring at the screen.

Blaine sighs, chewing a particularly hard piece of crust.  “Can I call out of work today?”

“Who's there now?  What time is it?” 

“Only Austin, I have to be there in an hour.  Ugh, I have to go.  I'm so happy though!  I want to celebrate movement of your leg!”

Kurt frowns.  “Me too.”

Blaine feels bad to leave him alone so soon after his cast comes off.  He wants to celebrate Kurt's leg getting better and his admission into college with private times.  “I want to hang out with you.”

“Well, why don't I go with you?”

“Kurt.  No, I mean… are you sure you're ready to be back there?”

Kurt kisses him hard, probably to shut him up.  “To this day, you say my name like it's the fucking scripture, B.”  Kurt kisses him.  “I love it when you say my name.”

“Say my name, say my name…”  Blaine sings the words sexily into Kurt's ear, licking at the outline and nibbling before falling back into his spot next to Kurt on the couch.  He grazes his fingertips down the side of Kurt's body and looks at him expectedly.

“You actin' kinda shady, ain't callin' me baby?”  Kurt says these words; it's a spoken question that forces the loud spitting laugh out of Blaine's throat.  Kurt continues, “Okay, seriously.  You know Destiny's Child but you have no idea what Sean Penn was doing in 1982?”

“I only know about Destiny's Child because of Beyoncé.”

Kurt catches Blaine's hand as it goes up and down the side of his body and plays with his fingers, staring down at them to avoid Blaine's face.  “Do you think we should move back to the apartment?  I know it's ready; you and my dad are both terrible liars.”

The apartment above the Lima Bean has been completely refurnished and finished for almost three weeks now after Christian Anderson defaced it the night before the attack on Kurt.  Blaine and Burt continue to keep themselves busy by prolonging their time spent at the shop every Saturday in lieu of Kurt realizing it's finished.  They both silently agree that he's not emotionally ready to return to work or the place he used to live, and they'll continue to put off moving back until absolutely necessary.

Blaine frequently feels the pit in his stomach for lying to Kurt over carburetors and transmission kits, but Burt reassures him that a lie is okay so long as it is to benefit Kurt's recovery process.  Burt explains that although the road to emotional stability is complicated hills and valleys, Kurt will get there with the help of his family.  Blaine included.

“I don't want to.  There's no reason to.”  If he's being honest, Blaine really likes living with Kurt and Burt and Carole.  It feels like a real family.

Kurt thinks about it for a minute.  He tilts his head.  “I want to, I think.  Eventually.  What I really want to do is run away with you, escape this shit town and only be with you forever.” 

Blaine knows that the nightmares and panic attacks haven't stopped, but they've greatly decreased since Christian Anderson was stripped of his rights for the next ten years of his life, shipped off to a high security state prison in Lucasville, Ohio.  Of course, he didn't murder anyone (only tried) so Christian Anderson could get out in as little as five years and six months with good behavior.  When Kurt remembers this small detail, the suffering returns regardless of the warm milk by the gallon floating down his esophagus and Blaine's arms wrapped around his body. 

Blaine always knows the right words to say.  Yes, the seemingly abbreviated sentence Christian receives for nearly taking away the only person Blaine's ever truly loved is preposterous, disgusting, but he boastfully reminds Kurt that they won't be anywhere near Ohio by the time Christian comes searching, and he might not even go looking for them anyway.  He always says that to maintain support, to try to keep Kurt's mind off of the fact that Christian will hate Blaine even more after having him put in jail. 

“Kurt.  Baby, he's not going to get you.  We should stay here because I can't stand to witness your hurt for one more second, especially emotionally.  We'll stay here until you aren't as affected too much anymore, and by that time we could-”

Kurt cuts him off.  His emotions are flying high and there's no way to hide them.  “No, I know that, I do.  At least he's not gonna get us right now, but it wasn't just him that night.”

And there it is.  After weeks upon weeks and months of talking about it, Kurt is ready to open up and have a deeper conversation about it all now.  For the first few months, he'd always agree with whatever Blaine was saying and they would hug, hold each other, and Blaine would whisper that everything is okay over and over again, and that'd be the extent of the conversation.  This is the first time he's doing more than nodding and smiling his sad smile, hardly ever reserved for Blaine. 

“They were all sold out by him, Kurt.”  Blaine emphasizes the T in Kurt.  He has to, to make sure his aching boyfriend is really listening to what he has to say.  “No one is going to hurt you anymore, okay?  Not one person, not ever as long as I am next to you.  And I kind of intend for that to be forever.  So.” 

“How do you know that, though?  You don't.  No one does because I was the only one fucking there and I don't even remember how many of them had me pinned down that morning waiting for him to get there!  Was it three?  Or five?  How many were there, B?  They only caught three of them.  There could be others.  There could be so many more just watching our every move and we're so damned clueless about it all, Blaine.  I can't really rest the way it was possible before until I know for sure that everyone who might have been there that night is caught.  How many months would they be sentenced for being a compliant worker bee to your father's grand plan?  It's not enough for me to not be scared anymore.”

Blaine takes the saucy plate from Kurt and puts both plates down on the table in front of them.  He turns solemnly to face Kurt and takes both of his hands, rubbing a corresponding thumb on each.  As many times as they've had this conversation, Blaine never tires.  He will never stop reassuring Kurt that everything is fine now.  It's best for both boys' sanity.  This time, though, it's a little different; he can finally offer a legitimate something to look forward to.  He just got word this afternoon from the only school that had a chance of his approval, the one he's wanted to attend forever.

“New York.”  Blaine can't hide the grin again.  He bounces a little and looks at Kurt.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“We can go to New York.  For good.  Kurt, I umm… I applied to college, and I got in.  I got in, Kurt.  I just found out today.  Columbia… I just got the letter-”

“Oh my God, Blaine!”  Kurt fires his body into Blaine's arms and slams his lips into contact.  “Blaine!  Jesus, I am so proud of you!  How the fuck did I not even know you wanted to go to college, let alone got into the best fucking one in New York!  Fuck Christian Anderson, baby, fuck him!  You showed him even though he pounded it into your head that you couldn't do it!”

Blaine's smile splits so wide across his face, it hurts.  He pulls back to catch the glimpse of his dazzling beauty of a boyfriend.  “You know how I am, I don't know.  Let me introduce you to the Magnificent Blaine Anderson Escape Plan, population:  me and pretty boy.  Assuming I am allowed to leave this horse town by then, will you please do me the honor of being my roommate?  Come with me?  To New York?  A live-in boyfriend, what's mine is yours?  All of that?  I want all of that with you.”

Kurt allows his jaw to drop just slightly before pulling his lips up into the brightest smile Blaine's ever seen.  Blaine swears that Kurt is currently composed of 35% sunshine.

“Really?”

“Yeah?  I mean… if you want…”

Kurt squeals and claps his hands, bouncing in the cushion.  “B, I have a confession to make.”

“Oh, God.  Kurt, if you don't want to come, it's fine.  Really, we can make it work or I don't even have to-” Blaine's too distracted by the possibility of a “no” to notice Kurt's excited-beyond-belief body language.

“No!  Blaine.  Shut up.  It's really, really good.  It's… amazing!  I am so proud of you, but you have to know this. Before the attack, literally the day before the attack, at Thanksgiving, you know?  I had told my dad that I wanted to sell the Lima Bean.”

“Why would you-”

“To take you… to escape with you to New York.”

Blaine blinks.  “Kurt?”

Kurt grins.

“Don't fuck around.”

“This is crazy.  Are we crazy?”  Kurt leans in to kiss him chastely on the lips.

“Kurt!  Please.  Answer my question.”

“Of course I'll come with you.  But it was totally my idea first.  And also, I'm second guessing having to sell the Lima Bean.  Julie has been so helpful through this whole thing that I want to promote her.”

Blaine breathes; it's a gasp of a new beginning.  “Whatever you want, pretty boy.”  They crash their lips together and before he knows it, the small of Blaine's back has the armrest of the couch digging into it shamelessly, and Kurt is flushed to his shoulders, spread out on top of his boyfriend. 

“Blaine?”

“What?”

“There was no spider, was there?”

Blaine laughs and shakes his head before capturing his boyfriend's tongue between his lips once again.

Kurt breaks the impromptu make out session ten minutes later.  “Go to work, B.  I'll be here when you get back.  Call me if your boss doesn't show up.”  He winks and shoves his body away playfully. 

So Blaine groans and obliges somewhat apprehensively, only under the condition that they get to talk more in detail about New York when he gets home. 

Kurt spends his night emailing Blaine Craigslist advertisements of apartments they could have, and Blaine spends his night replying with only emoticons in between the scatter of caffeine-obsessed students searching for their next fix.

xK&Bx

Fuck.  He doesn't even understand what he did this time.  One minute, he is simply sitting in class trying to keep up with the notes and the next, the teacher calls him out and announces to the class that he should stay after to discuss “the issue.” 

Blaine sits idly in detention, still not understanding what “the issue” was earlier, staring out into the school parking lot.  April showers, indeed.  The pavement is slick and glistening in the afterglow of the rainstorm passing through.  There's a nip to the air, a spring breeze that still requires some sort of jacket or sweatshirt.  He's scanning the parking lot, his eyes on the way to the football team.  Sure, they're douches, but… tight pants, and Kurt's lived in sweatpants for many months.  He might as well pass the time with ease.  Blaine really misses Kurt's skinny jeans and he's allowed to look, right?

The Navigator pulls in and parks.  Kurt hops down from the truck and has only the slightest limp to his waltz as he approaches the back door to the school.  He lifts the arm with his keys and clicks the alarm twice.  Blaine hears the beepbeep but can't take his eyes off of Kurt, who's nearly running up the stairs to break away from the drenching rainwater that will surely ruin the soft Italian suede of his jacket if it starts up again.   Only Kurt Hummel wears expensive suede imports during the rainiest month in history.

Blaine:  I see you, pretty boy.  What are you doing here?  You're clear to drive?
Kurt:  Doc gave me the okay!  Meeting Rachel! She's randomly in town only today and just texted Santana and me like two hours ago.  What are you still doing here?
Blaine:  I plead the fifth.

Kurt laughs.  Blaine Anderson never ceases to amaze him.  Of course he has detention; of course he references what one would say inside a courtroom on the regular.  It's Blaine's ironic way of making fun of himself and the trouble he's found himself in.

Kurt: What room are you in, lover?  I need my boyfriend to meet my best friend.
Blaine:  253E.  Save me, pretty boy.
Kurt:  Don't I always? ;)

Within a minute, Kurt peaks into the window of the closed door to detention and approaches the teacher in charge of detention today, Mrs. Hughes.  They catch up awkwardly; have they ever held a conversation before today? 

“Mr. Schue has an emergency meeting for the Glee Club and asked me to come get Blaine.”

Blaine grins and stands up.  Kurt smiles at Brad and they escape quickly before any questions are muttered.

“We are so good at escaping, we should refer to Lima as prison from now on.”  Kurt smiles at Blaine as they walk toward the choir room.  He takes his hand.

Blaine pulls away.  “Not here, pretty boy.”

Kurt shoots a confused look to his boyfriend of several months.  “I thought we were over the secrecy?  I thought I was the one who wanted it in the first place?”

“I just never told anyone at McKinley because they all kind of know you.  Your class is like, legend.  I don't know.  Don't want special treatment… or anyone judging us.  You know how this place is.  Also, I hardly talk to anyone.”  Blaine shrugs. 

“Fine.”  Kurt smiles again and shrugs with one shoulder.  “Whatever, I still love ya.”

Blaine giggles.  “Me too.”  He allows Kurt to enter the choir room first, shamelessly checking out the swing of his hips as he follows.  “Wait, you were serious about a Glee thing?  I'm not even in Glee.”

Kurt loses his footing and falls to the floor with one Rachel Berry tackled on top of him. “Kurt!  Oh my God!  I missed you, oh my God!  How have you been!” 

“Dude!  What the fuck?  Are you crazy?”  Blaine yells at Rachel and tries to rip her off of Kurt.  “You're gonna fucking hurt him!” 

She is yanked off and flattens the non-existent wrinkles in her skirt and forcefully extends a hand to Blaine.  “Rachel Berry, Emmy and Tony Award nominee, although I didn't win both times but Barbra took years to direct herself, so I have time to accomplish everything, as you know. And you must be…?”

“Blaine Anderson.  Prisoner in my own world.”  He deadpans, blinking and apprehensively taking her hand.  He lets her shake it with more enthusiasm than a pit bull.  “You are as intense as Santana said.”

Kurt snickers and takes his hand.  “It's just us, babe.”  He assures.

“Oh.  Oh!  This is your much younger, super hot delinquent boyfriend Santana Lopez saved from the streets!” 

Blaine blinks.  Did she just-?  Did Santana tell Rach-?  What?

“I still don't know if I approve, just for the record.”  Her smile broadens and she hops up and down.  This girl is on serious drugs or an overdose of poppy seeds or something.

“Um.”  Blaine's not sure if he should be offended or flattered that she's heard of him.

“Oh my God.”  Kurt blinks.   “Please stop with this embarrassment, Rachel.” 

“He's a cutie pie!”  Rachel singsongs as Santana struts into the room with a click of each heel and sits in the chair she used to sit in ten years ago.  Kurt catches wind of her action and lets go of Blaine to sit in his old chair.  Rachel follows suit, leaving Blaine staring at them from the edge of the piano. 

Kurt looks at each of his best friends, one at a time.  He finds his eyes locked on Blaine, taking him in for all he's worth.

Blaine notices and smiles, sitting down at the piano.  His fingers glide across the ivory absentmindedly but still with the natural touch of a musician.

Kurt grins.  “My boyfriend, Mozart.”

“Do you play, Blaine?”  Rachel preens. 

Blaine looks at her, nodding apprehensively.  She nods with encouragement and he finds the first chord for the first song that pops in his head.  He stares at Kurt during the introduction, but skips the first verse.

I would not leave you in times of trouble
We could never have come this far
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times
I take you just the way you are

“Awww, Kurt!  He's singing for you!”

“Berry, seriously shut the fuck up.”  Santana finally speaks.  “We are only here because you promised death on everyone we love if you didn't see us.  What the hell do you want?” 

Blaine's melody dies in his throat; he can't miss the drama and he knows that look on Santana's face.

“Oh my God, Santana.  Get over it, okay?  I kicked you out like seven years ago.”

“Children!  Rachel.  Why are you here?”

“I needed to tell you both something so important!  Wait for it!”  Blaine watches the interaction, allowing his fingers to press down wherever they please.  He stops at Santana's death glare, and they legitimately wait for it.  They wait through Rachel's overly dramatic stupid pause, Santana actually glaring holes through her hair, the style of which she hasn't changed since she wore kittens on her sweaters. 

“Rachel.”  Kurt shortly reminds her that they are still waiting.

“I'm Fanny Brice!”

“There's a Funny Girl revival?  Wait are you Fanny or are you Barbra?  Is this Broadway or off?”  Blaine asks in wonder, genuinely interested and then quickly snapping out of it.  “Oh, um.  I mean, cool.  Congrats.”

Kurt and Santana both stare at him, shocked and impressed that he knows who Fanny Brice even is.  Santana's face contorts into that of disgust and holds a finger up to Blaine, then turns to Rachel.  “Broadway?”

“D'uh!  I'm en route to New York City right now!  I needed to stop here and tell my friends!  Can we go to the Lima Bean?  I need to make sure that me handing it over to you was not a mistake.”  She jumps up and down; her face lights up in a frenzy of positivity.

“It wasn't.  I actually work there.  He runs it perfectly.” Blaine drawls, thoroughly unimpressed with this bitch he used to love when she was on television.  But it is time to befriend all of Kurt's friends if they're in it for the long run so he channels his inner Spice Girl and stands, grinning at Rachel.

“Well, I'll be the judge of that.”  Rachel raises an eyebrow and rolls her eyes at him, not impressed with his foolish outburst of excitement.

He blinks.  He's kind of in shock; he really thought Rachel would be a nice person, especially because she is Santana and Kurt's friend from high school.  Maybe she's kidding.  She's got to be kidding.

He can't stop looking around for the candid camera.  He plops down next to Santana and mutters, mostly to himself.  “Was Rachel Berry just a raging bitch to me for no reason?  Is this real life?”

“Unfortunately.”  Santana tilts her head up to look at him and they burst at the seams with laughter. 

They calm down quickly when Kurt gives them both a pointed look of warning.

“So, lover boy.  I was going to call you today but figured I could just talk to you in person and get a free latte out of the deal.  I was on my way to the Lima Bean when I got the thrilling news that Rachel Berry was in town.”

“Mmmm, what's up?”  Blaine's watching Kurt talk strained, but animatedly, with Rachel.  If Kurt can find something in her, she must be alright… even if she didn't bother to call once after Kurt's attack.  Even if she's being seriously insensitive, demanding they go to the Lima Bean as if Kurt can just go there without consequence these days.

“I got an email this morning about the status of your anklet.”

“-and oh my God, Kurt!  Maybe I can get you a job as a stagehand or something!  You can still stand for a few hours, right?  Maybe you can work in merchandise and you can sit when it's not intermission or something.  I'm sure they'll make an exception if I recommend you!  You know this whole thing wouldn't have happened if you weren't dating an eighteen-year-old.”

Kurt's face drops at the words.  Not only does she suggest that the only way into a Broadway theater for Kurt would be to sell tee shirts, but she also lets her sour opinion on his relationship fly free and shamelessly.  He feels his cheeks turning red, but not out of embarrassment.

“You know, a lot of stuff wouldn't have happened if you didn't ditch me for a corny teenage drama, Rachel.”  He often wonders about the “what ifs,” the path his life has taken due to other people's – Rachel's – decisions. 

“So I got to play the adorable girl next door for four seasons, gaining fame and money and syndication, and royalties for the rest of my life, and you're back in Lima playing house with your own teenage drama.  Jealous, much?”

“Why the fuck is she here?”  Blaine scowls and looks back to Santana.

“Whoa.  Hummel's bitch face is really rubbing off on you.  Calm down, they bicker just like this every time.  She just has something else to criticize when you were introduced.  She knows it hurts Kurt so she says whatever she can.  We can strike later when she's gone.  I try to convince him every time just how horrible the shit she says is.  He'll get it eventually.”

Blaine laughs and shakes his head.  “Fine... what about my exquisite taste in jewelry?”

“Ah, yes.  There's a court date that you have to go to next Friday and if you answer the questions the way they want you to, which you will because I know the questions already and I'll basically just tell you what to say, then you might be able to lessen your time locked into that thing.”

“Is this some sort of trick that I cut school to be there and then they tell me I can't get it off because I've cut school?”

“No, Blaine.  Not everyone is out to get you, you know.  Honestly, I think it had a lot to do with your father.  Now they don't have him breathing down their necks to keep you accounted for so they don't have to keep you there.  This also proves to me that he was behind the whole out-of-network thing a few months ago.”

“I figured as much.”

“I'll come with you if you want me to.”

“That'd be great, San.  But let's get together to cheat on the answers first?”

“Obviously.”

“Thanks.”

They stand up, Rachel and Kurt waiting on them by the door, Kurt a bit less bright than he was only twenty minutes ago.

“My, my, what a long way Badass Blaine has come.  Even showing gratitude!”  She throws one arm around his shoulders and leads him down the hall and into Kurt's car, following a scowling but still linked-at-the-elbows Rachel and Kurt the entire way.

xK&Bx

Santana and Rachel get out of the car and head inside.  Blaine looks at Kurt from the front passenger seat. 

“We don't have to go in, you know.”

“Mmmm.”  Kurt's eyes are glazed over, staring but unfocused at the building in front of him.  His building that he hasn't been in or even seen in months.  Since the attack.

“Pretty boy…”

“I can do this, Blaine.  I'm fine.”

“Okay.  But the minute you feel like you have to leave-”

“I'll be okay baby, just stay close to me.  Come on.”  Kurt swings the door open and hops out, waiting for Blaine to rush around from the other side.

Blaine takes Kurt's hand gingerly and swings them as they walk toward the Lima Bean.

“So, Rachel is…”

“Stop.  Do not continue.  Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”  Kurt kisses Blaine.  “I don't want to be mad at you right now because it really sucks when I'm mad at two different people that I love, and as annoying and self-indulged and self-important and did I mention annoying and she didn't even call when I was hurt…” Kurt takes a breath and rolls his eyes.  “As crazy as she is, we only need to deal with her for a little while longer until she forgets about Lima again.”  Kurt babbles.  “She hasn't been back since Finn died and it's obvious that she's trying really hard to not think about him, and that makes me sad because me and Santana know exactly what she's doing, and in turn we can't help but think about Finn. We have to be done talking about this, okay?  I love you but…”  Kurt tilts his head and holds it.  “Please, just drop it.”

“She is… really ambitious?  Sorry you're sad, baby.  Anything I can do?”  Blaine sighs and watches his eyes.

Kurt plants a kiss onto Blaine's lips and twirls out of his hold.  “You're doing it, babe.”  Pulling the door open and waiting until Blaine gets the hint to walk in before him, he smiles and winks at a shocked-to-see-his-boss barista, Austin.

Rachel is in the middle of a very important task – over-analyzing every single piece of art and swipe of paint to every inch of the Lima Bean and making suggestions on how to better the place with every glance around.

“Want anything, Lopez?  You okay?”  Blaine makes his way behind the counter and slaps Austin on the shoulder to greet him.

“The usual, please.”  Blaine knows she's watching Kurt closely; the stress of both Rachel and Finn and being at the Lima Bean for the first time in months is something Blaine knows that Santana knows he may not be able to handle.  She nods at him sadly and sits at the Carrie Table; it's become a constant throughout the friendship Kurt, Santana, and Blaine share.

In an effort for Blaine to not literally bite his tongue off, he goes through the motions to make Santana's cinnamon latte just the way she likes it and hand delivers it.  He feels safe to not watch Kurt's every move with Santana here.  He trusts her.  Returning back behind the counter to retrieve his own and one for Kurt, he also manages to bring over a simple coffee for Rachel.  Kurt approaches when he sees the coffee on the table and joins Santana and Blaine.

Rachel, being the over-confident Midwestern, over-annoying (and that's underestimating by a long shot), super-conceited girl that she is, storms over, pointing with one finger, inches away from Kurt's face. 

“Are you even profiting at all, Kurt?  These two just stole nearly ten dollars right out of your bank account!  Do you let them do this to you every single day?”  Although Rachel is speaking of both Blaine and Santana, she locks eyes with Blaine.

He pointedly slams his cup down, strolls behind the counter, and opens the cash register.  He takes all the twenties out of the register, stuffs them haphazardly into his pocket, and comes back and sits down.

“Blaine.  Please.”  Kurt warns. 

“What?  Miss Priss over here was only insinuating that your fucked up boyfriend is using you for the unlimited funds you obviously provide for me, why not prove that she's right?  Because whenever I need a few bucks, I just open your fucking wallet, Kurt.” 

“Oh whatever, why else would an eighteen-year-old want anything to do with him?”  Rachel folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. 

Blaine takes the money out of his pocket and places it all in front of his boyfriend.  He turns his face to Rachel, who's staring at him with wide brown eyes, shocked at his actions.  He opens his mouth to speak, but then makes a show of biting down on his tongue.  He leans back on two legs of the chair and grabs Kurt's hand, intertwining their fingers and bringing both hands to his lips to kiss at the knuckles.  He physically sticks his tongue out and bites down hard so he doesn't make Kurt upset.  This translates well to Kurt without a word.

Kurt pulls away from him and explodes upward until he's standing in front of Rachel.  “Okay, no.  You will not talk to him or me like that, how dare you.  You need to get laid, Rach.  Maybe then you won't be such a lame goody-two-shoes with an ego the size of Texas for absolutely no reason.  You're really not that great, Rachel Berry, and Barbra's been here already, so carry on.  Maybe I'm at a disadvantage here because obviously you are capitalizing on Finn's death and he was my brother Rachel, and I miss him every single day of my life, but you chained me down into a town I never wanted to come back to, because I was your only friend who didn't write you off.  Your friendship makes me fucking cringe most of the time, because it's only when it's convenient for you.  Do you know that I almost died?  I got attacked for being in love with a boy and you didn't do so much as send a fucking text message to make sure I was okay.  And then you show up here and completely judge the same boy that your best friend is head over heels for.  For what?  Because you can't have something like what we have anymore?  Because you can't just… carry on with your life?  I was willing to look past all of this, all of what you are, because you're clearly still mourning.  You are focusing on everyone else and criticizing what I must be doing wrong for the business that should have been yours if you were strong enough to ever step foot in this place again.  I'm sorry for your loss, Rachel.  Finn wasn't my boyfriend, he was yours, I know it's a different relationship.  But still, I lost someone, too.  Shit happens, and he was important to me and Santana too, and I don't see her barging into anywhere looking for faults.  I'm not suggesting you move on, because God, if I ever lost…”  He shakes his head.  “Just grow up, Rach.  Grow the fuck up and leave your insecurities at the door and stop projecting them on me and my boyfriend and my most treasured friend.  Your problems are not ours and I am so pissed off that you even brought me to my breaking point right now because you are not even worth how mad I am.  You weren't worth it when we were in high school, and you sure as hell don't deserve anything you've gotten.  Not with that judgmental, disgusting, me-me-me attitude.”

Blaine, Santana, and Rachel are gaping at him; he has exploded, shaking from the confrontation.  Kurt huffs and leaves out of the front door.

“Fuck you, Rachel.”  Santana screams and chases after Kurt, keeping her distance slightly so he can calm down before she has the chance to approach.

Blaine stares at Rachel in disbelief.  “I'll go talk to them.  But honestly, he was right.  Don't come back here if you can't handle it.  You're projecting your issues with Lima on people you associate with Finn.  Him dying was not their fault.  I genuinely don't know the full story at all, Kurt hardly talks about high school because he's clearly been through so much pain as you all have, but try to be there for them.  They didn't go through it the same way you did, but they went through something very similar and I can see it weighing them down every once in awhile.  They'll get a distant look in their eyes and I can just tell.  But try to have some compassion for other people too, not just you and not just Kurt and Santana?”  He drops the chair back to all fours, looks back at her, and shakes his head.  He follows Santana's lead out the door after saying goodbye to Austin, who watches with baited breath.

Santana has already caught Kurt halfway to the corner and Blaine stops walking toward them when he sees Kurt's arms flailing out of control, angry and frustrated.  Blaine watches, picking up his legs again slowly to join them.  He hugs himself and slouches his shoulders inward and forward. 

The rain won't let up and they look like wet dogs.

“Hey.”  Kurt almost whispers the simple word when he sees Blaine, blurry out of the corner of his misty eye.  He feels terrible that Rachel was so degrading and reading Blaine all the wrong way, all because he vented to her before he thought to try the relationship despite their age.

Blaine steps forward.  He is a magnet, constantly pulled in to Kurt, and there's no other explanation to it.

“I'm sorry about her, Blaine.” Kurt looks to him then to Santana.  He speaks to both of them.  “I kind of confided in her back after our first kiss when I was still apprehensive and haven't really talked to her about it since.  The way she was judging you was totally my fault.”

Blaine finds Kurt's hand and squeezes.

“It doesn't matter.  The only two people in our relationship are you and me.”  Blaine smiles at him, trying to make everything better.  “I'm sorry you fought with her so hard and that she brought up old feelings about Finn.”

“Whatever, she won't be back.  She can't come here anymore, it just reminds her of everyone she's lost and she has an insane way of dealing with it.  The fame has really gotten to her head and I don't like it.” 

“Yeah, well.  I don't like her.  What did you guys ever see in her?  She's a hobbit who, yes, she can sing but her only training was probably listening to old fucking tapes of Barbra Streisand.  Bitch even opens her mouth exactly the same way.”  Blaine chimes in.  Fuck you, Rachel Berry. 

Santana nods vigorously, pointing at Blaine and looking at Kurt, laughing.  “What I've been saying for, like, twelve years.”

“I think we've had enough excitement for one day and my leg is sore because I've been perfecting the storm off in true Rachel Berry style.  So let's go home?”  Kurt rubs his thumb against Blaine's knuckles and smiles at him with affection. 

“Yeah.  Call me tomorrow, San.  Do you need a ride back to McKinley?”  Blaine looks at her then to Kurt.

“I'm going to go find Rachel and get sucked into her wallowing sobs for only the five-hundredth time.”

“Sorry.”  Kurt kicks his foot out, truly looking like an ashamed four-year-old. 

“Don't be.  It's the Berry/Lopez dynamic.  See you guys.  Don't let him get down and feel bad about The Devil Who Wears Kitten Sweaters.”  Santana nods toward Kurt and rolls her eyes.

“Come on, pretty boy.  I'll make you feel better.”  He wraps his fingers around Kurt's thumb and pulls them back toward the coffee shop where Kurt had parked. 

“Do you want to know what else it was?”  Kurt's whisper almost goes unheard. 

Blaine looks at him and tilts his head, stopping under a beautiful oak tree on the side of Main Street.  “What else what was?”

“My childish outburst.  This is the first time I'm back at the Bean.  Since…”

“I know that.  You doing okay?”

“It's weird.  I sort of am.”

xK&Bx

They head back to Burt's, parting ways when Blaine needs to concentrate on yet another mind-numbing essay, to be written in Abraham Lincoln's point of view, explaining the basis of the Civil War.  Like, what?  Blaine's pretty sure he wrote the exact same essay in second or third grade.

“Blaine?”  Kurt appears at the door, leaning up against the frame and positively looking like a sex god.

“Huh?”  Blaine is sitting at the desk, engrossed in a topic he could write about in his sleep.

“I'm sorry I blew up on Rachel in front of you.”

Blaine looks up at Kurt.  “Hey, it's okay.  Want to talk about it?”  He closes Kurt's laptop and turns so his lap is accessible for Kurt to sit on it.

Kurt takes the invitation and wraps his arms around Blaine's neck.  “I miss Finn.”

“Mmm, I know you do.  Do you think we would have been friends?”

“Eventually.  After you got used to him.  He was a little weird.”  Kurt looks down and smiles.  He gets up and rummages through his closet for a few seconds, feeling Blaine's eyes on his back the entire time.  He pulls Finn's football jacket out and wraps it around his body before flopping down on the bed.  “I miss him every single day.”

“I know you do, baby.”

“My mom would have adored you, too, you know.”

Blaine joins him on the bed and gently pushes him over so Kurt can be the little spoon.  One of Blaine's super powers:  knowing exactly when Kurt needs to be held and listened to.  “I don't know about all of that.  I have a pretty terrible track record with parents.”

“She would have loved you.  The same way Carole does.  Mmmmm, I miss her too.”

Blaine holds Kurt tight.  “I know you do.  I don't know what else to say.  You've had so much shit happen to you, I just want to snuggle you until you can't feel them anymore.  Let me?”  Blaine kisses the top of Kurt's head and squeezes a little harder.

“Let's just agree to save each other from the colossal shit we've both been through one shitty event at a time.”  Kurt's words are muffled, with his mouth buried in Blaine's arm.

After a few minutes of lying in bed together wordlessly, Kurt shifts and sighs.  Blaine goes back to where he was and they collectively go back to work as much as they can.  It's Blaine's brain that quickly wanders off to what they would have done if he was ever able to hang out with Finn Hudson or Elizabeth Hummel.

Five hundred words of complete shit later, including but not limited to the importance of Harriet Tubman or something, Blaine shuts the laptop and pushes it away from his body.  He produces a notebook from his bag and flips to the first available blank page.  He titles the page and stares at the blank page.

New York Budget.

xK&Bx

Kurt experiences some of his worst nightmares to date once he's finally able to fall asleep.  He's just about to jump in front of a moving bullet coming from Christian Anderson's gun to save Blaine's life when he is shaken awake by a living, breathing version of his boyfriend, not being shot at in a Target parking lot.

“Okay, baby.  I'm right here.  Always right here.”  Blaine has Kurt in his arms once again, rocking him and wiping his tears with a single thumb.  Blaine looks to Kurt, tilting his head in pity; an ember glow of honey eyes staring at him just waiting for him to break.

The emotional aspect of Kurt's recovery is nowhere near over, and as much as Kurt knows Blaine could curse his father up and down, and perform the blackest of magic until kingdom come in revenge for all of this additional stress and agony added to everyone's lives because of Christian fucking Anderson, Kurt's mind is overflowing with thoughts that chant, “nothing will improve until we are given the time to slowly work toward the finish line.”  Kurt doesn't have the fight in him to truly recover.  Not yet.

Eventually Kurt sobs himself back into a thick sleep, and it's then that Blaine would do the same, if he wasn't plotting ways to get his carefree boyfriend back.  He starts another list.

New York Bucket List.