Chapter 25, pt. 1

Saturday morning coffee with Trip had started to become a part of Kurt's schedule as much as work, class, and Friday nights with Blaine. It started with Trip jingling his keys at Kurt expectantly the second week, then Kurt waiting with his jacket already on for Trip the third week, and now, finally, a quick exchange of texts over Thanksgiving to confirm that they were still on for that weekend.

Kurt took a sip of his espresso as he stared down at his notes blearily, "Do you think my professor would fail me if I passed out in the middle of my exam on Monday?"

Trip glanced up from his own open textbook on the table, "Want me to come with you? I can sit next to you and stomp on your foot every time you look like you're nodding off."

"Thanks but no thanks," Kurt stifled a yawn, "I don't understand how you're not falling asleep on your book right now. Give me some of whatever you have."

Trip turned his gaze back down to his book, "While I appreciate being accused of substance abuse as much as the next cleaned up former pill popper, the only thing I can tell you, pal, is that some of us just handle sleep deprivation better than others."

Kurt glanced up at Trip, "You don't strike me as the Black Friday shopping type."

"I'm not, but that doesn't mean there aren't plenty of other reasons for a guy to lose a few hours of sleep." Trip finally looked up to wink.

"Stop, I'm already having trouble stomaching this espresso, and I'd rather not puke all over these pants. I just bought them yesterday."

"Don't give me that. I know for a fact you and Blaine have broken your dry streak more than once over the past couple weeks, so don't treat me like I'm wrong for getting mine."

"Keep it down." Kurt hissed, looking around to see if any of the other coffee shop patrons had overheard.

"Sex is a part of the human experience, friend, nothing to be ashamed of," Trip met the eyes of a pretty girl sitting at the table beside them and winked, "Isn't that right?"

The girl blushed but managed to smile before looking back down at her phone.

Trip cracked his knuckles and turned his attention back to his book.

"You're a pig." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"And yet you keep going out to coffee with me. What does that say about you?" Trip looked up from his book again, "Actually, the company you keep in general is sort of interesting. You live with your former bully, you date the spacey cancer patient, and you go to coffee with someone you have threatened to hit in the face six times this week alone. I think you're kind of a masochist, Kurt."

"Please don't make fun of Blaine." Kurt sighed.

Trip's smile fell, "I heard about last Saturday—the wrestling match for the keys, I mean… good thing we did coffee quick that week."

"Did Dave tell you that?" Kurt rubbed his eyes.

"No, Blaine did."

"What'd he say about it?"

Trip shrugged, "Not much. Just made a comment about it over Thanksgiving."

"How was Thanksgiving with the Andersons?" Kurt couldn't help but be a little jealous that Trip had gotten to spend the holiday with Blaine.

"Quiet," Trip took a drink from his cup, "Just me and Blaine and his parents."

"What'd your aunt and uncle do?"

Trip laughed, "Beats me, whatever they normally do, I guess."

"Did they ask you to come for Thanksgiving?"

Trip doodled on the open notebook beside his book, "It's not like we're close or anything. I was just shacked up with them until school started. I called and told them I'd be at Blaine's place for the holiday and they didn't question it."

"Are you going to go home for Christmas?"

Trip shrugged.

"If you don't go home, will you stay with your aunt and uncle then?"

Trip let out an exasperated sigh, "Jesus Christ, you're as bad as David with the questions. Blaine never shuts up, but at least he doesn't interrogate me as much as you guys do."

"Sorry," Kurt took another sip of his espresso, "…one more question?"

Trip threw his pen down on the table and sat back in his chair, "Oh my God, fine, yes."

"Trade me drinks?" Kurt motioned a hand at the tiny cup beside his book.

"Not on your life, Hummel; I told you that you'd hate that shit and you ordered it anyway." Trip laughed and took another drink from his cup.

Kurt sighed, "I don't understand how anyone drinks it. It tastes like something my dad would put in a car."

"Go get something else then," Trip glanced at his phone, "But make it a to-go order; I have to get back to Dalton for Warblers stuff."

"They're working you guys hard." Kurt closed his book and pushed it into his bag.

"Holiday concert season starts this Friday." Trip rolled his eyes.

"A concert? You didn't tell me you guys had a show!" Kurt perked up.

"Show choirs tend to do that," Trip shoved his own things into his bag, "Have shows, I mean. It's supposed to be a warm up for sectionals."

"Do you have a solo for this one? Do you have a solo for sectionals?"

"I thought we were done with questions." Trip shrugged his coat back on and stood.

Kurt drained his espresso in one quick gulp and flinched, "You're seriously not going to tell me if you have a solo?"

"I get to sing." Trip smiled and turned toward the door.

"Trip," Kurt whined, trailing after him.

"Kurt." Trip replied, smiling over his shoulder as he crossed the parking lot.

"Come on, don't be an ass about this, I'm trying to live vicariously over here."

Trip sighed as he slipped into the car, "Fine. Yes, I have a solo."

"A big one?"

"Oh my God, do you and David sit around and plan a set of questions to ask me?" Trip rolled his eyes and twisted around to look out the back window as he pulled out of the parking space, "We had this same conversation last night."

"Did you actually answer his questions? Because if so, I'll leave you alone and just ask him when I get home."

"I don't get why either one of you care." Trip glanced at Kurt as he pulled up to a stoplight.

"I care because I miss glee club," Kurt smoothed a hand over a wrinkle in his pants, "Dave cares because he's smitten with you."

"I'm fucking David."

"You've made that quite clear, but that doesn't mean he doesn't adore you." Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Trip didn't smile, "David adores the fact that I'm sex with no strings attached."

"You're intentionally ignoring the truth."

"You are intentionally going out of your way to look for things to orchestrate."

"I'm not orchestrating; I'm just guiding pieces into place."

"Don't," Trip turned to face Kurt once they were parked back in the parking lot in front of the apartment building, "I mean it."

Kurt studied Trip's face, "Why not?"

"Because I'm asking you not to," Trip held Kurt's gaze, "Find something else to distract you that isn't me."

"Distract me?" Kurt echoed.

"I—fuck it, never mind. Are you getting out or what?" Trip drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

"You're snippy." Kurt frowned.

"I'm going on two weeks without a single cigarette. I get to be snippy," Trip motioned a hand toward the door, "Get going."

"Fine, I'm going. Good luck at practice."

"I don't need luck." Trip winked as Kurt slammed the door shut.

"Cocky bastard." Kurt muttered, but waved before turning to go inside.

David, as always, was up by the time he walked into the apartment. He gave Kurt a distracted looking smile, "Hey."

"Hey—another business lunch?" Kurt motioned to David's dress shirt.

David nodded, "Yeah…"

"A little piece of advice from me to you: don't order espresso. Ever." Kurt went into the bathroom to fix his hair.

"I'll keep that in mind… is that what you got this morning with Trip?"

"Mhm." Kurt turned from side to side, admiring his new outfit in the mirror.

"Kurt…can I ask you something?"

Kurt pulled his toothbrush and toothpaste out of the drawer, "What kind of something?"

David hesitated, "Did Trip mention his birthday to you?"

"About a month ago he said something…I don't really remember. He's going to be nineteen soon." Kurt stuck his toothbrush in his mouth and peered out the door toward David.

"Next Saturday."

Kurt frowned around his toothbrush, "Wha'?"

"His birthday, it's next Saturday."

"Hm," Kurt spat into the sink, "So what exactly are you trying to ask, Dave?"

David fidgeted in his seat, "Well… okay, so Trip… he has a way he likes to do things."

"If this is about sex—"

"It's not," David flushed red.

"Proceed, then." Kurt rinsed out his mouth and put his things back in the drawer.

"Last night was… different. He came over and got in bed and we talked for a bit, but then he asked if we could just sleep."

Kurt gaped indignantly, "That liar! He was making me feel stupid this morning for being exhausted when he didn't even—"

"Kurt, can you focus?" David sighed.

"Right, sorry. Go ahead."

"…So that's what we did—or I guess pretended to do… like I said, he has a way he likes things done, and normally he sleeps with his back to me," A smile pulled at David's mouth, "…but last night he slept with his forehead pressed up against my arm, so I guess I… I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about why he was being that way, but—I think he thought I was asleep—because out of the blue he just sort of murmured that his birthday was on Saturday, but then he didn't say anything else."

"This is all very sweet, but what exactly are you asking me?"

David blushed again as he turned his gaze from the table to Kurt, "Could I… should I do something for him? For his birthday or whatever."

"I don't know all of the rules governing friends with benefits, but I'm not sure that they give one another birthday presents."

"Oh, right…" David nodded, his gaze drifting back to the table.

Kurt studied him for a moment before moving across the room to take the chair next to him, "Dave, are you… do you want to be more than just friends with benefits with him?"

David flushed red.

"Oh. My. God. Finally!" Kurt clapped his hands together.

"Kurt, even if I do maybe feel that way, he doesn't."

"Shut up," Kurt waved a hand as though to brush off David's comment, "Don't worry, I know exactly what to do."

David looked up, "you do?"

"We're throwing a birthday party."

David's face fell, "He'll kill you."

"No he won't; we'll disguise it as a little post-performance soiree on Friday night," Kurt was suddenly wide awake, "It'll be good for Blaine, too. It's perfect."

"I thought you had school and work shit coming out your ears." David still looked cynical.

"I do for now, but once this exam is over Monday, I'm going to have tons of time on my hands."

"I don't think an extra hour or two in your days means 'tons of time'," Dave frowned, "You can't just take a breather or something?"

"No. I'm going to be busy planning a party, Dave, a party where you can declare your undying affections to Trip," Kurt paused to look over David, "I don't know how you managed to fall for him, but I don't understand how Finn and Rachel stand—"

"Can you put the breaks on this for like one second?" David sighed.

"Fine, what?" Kurt snapped; irritated to have his mental party planning interrupted.

"I'm not… I don't know if that's how…" David looked frustrated for a moment as he searched for the words, "I… I do care about him—"

"Mhm."

"Let me finish, okay?" David huffed, "I care about him, but… I don't want to ruin our thing if stuff doesn't work out."

"Then you'll never date anyone," Kurt rolled his eyes, "Relationships come with risks, Dave."

David looked sad, "Like cancer?"

"Unfortunately yes, but the only tumor Trip has is the one growing on his manners."

"That's sort of possible; that's stuff in the frontal lobe of your brain, right?"

Kurt looked at David in surprise.

"I… I did some online research stuff about—" David motioned at his head and met Kurt's eyes almost shyly, "I wanted to know why Blaine can get so…mean sometimes. I didn't know… you always know what to do when he gets like that, so I thought maybe there's like a written up thing somewhere out there about how I'm supposed to react or something."

Kurt was quiet for a moment, "…He's been okay for the past couple weeks."

David nodded quickly, "Yeah, he seems… he seems good."

Kurt glanced at his phone, "Speaking of Blaine, I need to get over to his place. I'll see you tonight? We can start party planning as soon as my exam is over on Monday."

"Do you plan on telling Trip about your party?"

"Not my party, his party," Kurt pulled his jacket on and made for the door, "And I'll try to remember to mention it to him."

"He's gonna be mad."

"He will not…and David?" Kurt turned as he pulled open the door, "…thank you."

"For what?"

"For taking an interest in Blaine… for trying." Kurt smiled a little.

Dave blushed; nodded, "I'll see ya later. Tell him I say hey."

When Kurt got to the Anderson's house, he pulled a shopping bag and his backpack out of the passenger seat before going to the door and ringing the bell.

Elizabeth answered, smiling much more than she had the previous weekend, "Hello, Kurt. Happy belated Thanksgiving."

"Same to you," Kurt smiled and stepped into the welcomed warmth of the entryway, "Did you go shopping yesterday?"

"Afraid not—I took the extra hours for sleep," She motioned a hand toward the stairs, "The way Blaine sleeps you'd think he'd actually gone out yesterday."

"Is he still in bed?" Kurt held up his shopping bag, "I got him a couple of things when I braved the crowds yesterday."

"He was up earlier, but I think he went back to sleep, you're more than welcome to check."

Kurt thanked her before jogging up the steps and pushing open Blaine's bedroom door quietly.

The walls had been repainted weeks ago (honey beige, selected by Kurt from a bag full of paint swatches he himself had brought over for Blaine to look at), but the room still held the faint scent of fresh paint. It was nice; new.

Blaine was asleep on top of his comforter, a blanket twisted around his legs and a pillow over his head.

Kurt put his things down quietly in the empty space on the bed beside Blaine before lifting the pillow and touching a kiss to Blaine's forehead.

Blaine opened his eyes and squinted at Kurt, "Hey."

"Sleepy much?" Kurt teased.

"Mm, I'm always tired," Blaine yawned, "How was your Thanksgiving?"

"Fine, Rachel and Quinn didn't come home, though," Kurt sat down on the bed beside Blaine and tucked his feet under the blanket.

Blaine rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes, "…I think…yeah, Rachel told me that over Skype… is that a new outfit?"

"It is indeed. One of many Black Friday purchases," Kurt smiled appreciatively and pulled his shopping bag closer, "and I got some things for you, too."

Blaine pushed himself up on his elbows; still blinking against the bright light of the room. He peered down into the bag when Kurt held it out to him, "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to—and that blue cardigan was practically sobbing at me to bring it home. I want to borrow it at some point, by the way." Kurt sat back and watched Blaine pull the clothing items out of the bag.

"Why didn't you just keep it if you like it so much?"

"Because I just want to borrow it from you," Kurt smiled, "And I want you to wear it to Trip's birthday party."

Blaine looked up from the items accumulating in his lap to frown, "Birthday party? … did you tell me about this?"

"No," Kurt smiled, pleased with himself already, "I decided to put it together this morning."

"When's the big day?" Blaine pulled a hat out of the bag and put it on, leaning forward until he could see himself in his mirror on the far wall.

"Friday night—I need your Warbler contacts before I leave today," Kurt reached over and adjusted Blaine's hat, "Did you know there's a Warblers performance this week?"

"I…" Blaine closed his eyes, "No…. wait, yes, I did."

"And you didn't mention it to me?" Kurt pouted.

"I forgot," Blaine shrugged and handed over his phone, "do you want to go?"

"Of course I do," Kurt pulled his own phone from his pocket and started the slow process of transferring numbers.

"Does Trip know you're putting this party together?" Blaine refolded his new shirts and put them in a neat pile beside him.

"Not yet."

"He's going to kill you."

"That's what Dave said," Kurt looked up to frown at Blaine, "He will not kill me."

"He doesn't like things that aren't under his control, he doesn't like being surprised, and he likes to pretend he's not friends with the Warblers," Blaine smiled faintly, "You're practically begging to piss him off."

"This will be good for him. Good for all of us," Kurt handed Blaine's phone back to him, "Don't you want to see some of your old friends?"

Blaine shrugged, "…Could I opt out of the party?"

"What? No!" Kurt nudged Blaine's hip with his foot, "You're my starring attraction. What freshman Warbler wouldn't want to be in the presence of Blaine Anderson?"

Blaine folded his arm across his chest, his expression suddenly uncomfortable.

Kurt frowned as he studied his face, "What's wrong?"

Blaine lifted a hand to his mouth and chewed at his thumbnail.

"Don't bite. You're going to end up tearing off the whole thing," Kurt pushed Blaine's hand down gently, "Come on, you can tell me."

"I'm not…" Blaine's eyes went down to his lap, "I don't know that I'd be who… who they'd expect me to be."

"What do you mean?" Kurt shifted closer until his legs were draped over Blaine's lap.

"I mean I'm not the same guy I was when I was with the Warblers."

Oh. Kurt thought for a minute before reaching out and cupping Blaine's cheek with a hand. When Blaine finally met his eyes, Kurt smiled, "Yes you are—just with a little less hair. If anything it makes your charm even more noticeable."

Blaine lifted a hand and traced it over the back of Kurt's, "You're worse than my mother."

"I'm being honest, Blaine," Kurt leaned in to kiss Blaine's cheek, "You're charming—" A kiss for his other cheek, "—You're funny—" A kiss for his forehead, "—you're charismatic—" A kiss for his nose, "—and you're gorgeous."

Blaine tilted his head up a little to kiss Kurt's mouth. He smiled, "How come you always know exactly how to make me feel better?"

"Lots of practice and a little bit of telepathy," Kurt smiled, "But if you're still not feeling it, then I can just scrap the whole idea and we'll stick with our usual Friday night plans."

Blaine chewed at his lip, "How do you even have time for this right now? Isn't your schedule packed for like eighteen hours a day?"

"I have some free time opening up after Monday." Kurt watched Blaine's face carefully.

Blaine let out a long breath and smiled, "Fine, I'll be there."

"If I had the money, I'd rent out a billboard for the event. 'A party presented by Kurt Hummel with special appearance by Blaine Anderson'—it would be excellent practice for when we're Hollywood's hottest item."

Blaine laughed quietly, but the sound was muffled in another yawn.

"You should sleep and start saving up energy for Friday." Kurt reached out and shifted the blanket tangled around their legs until it was smooth and covering Blaine's feet again.

"You drove out here to hang out with me and you want me to sleep?" Blaine stared at Kurt dubiously.

"I have to study anyway," Kurt patted his backpack as proof, "and maybe when you wake up we can tackle some of your Thanksgiving leftovers. I'll even pretend not to care if you smoke beforehand."

Blaine smiled but searched Kurt's face, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Am I not allowed to be nice to my boyfriend?"

"You're being weirdly nice," Blaine replied, a worry line forming between his eyebrows, "Are you okay?"

Kurt reached out and squeezed Blaine's hand, "Yes."

Blaine studied his face; his expression unconvinced, "You're planning a birthday party for Trip—you're… I don't know, are you sure you're okay?"

"I promise. I'm fine," Kurt smiled and held Blaine's gaze, "Now go to sleep, you're distracting me from my studies."

Blaine's eyes moved over his face one more time, but, finally, he nodded and lay down.

Kurt pulled his notebook onto his lap and moved until he was leaning against Blaine's headboard. He rubbed a hand absently over Blaine's back and paged through the notes balanced on his knees with the other.

Kurt wasn't lying to Blaine; he was fine—better than fine, even. He was doing well at his job, he liked his classes, he had an application mailed out to the New School for 'just in case' next year, and he was fully settled into his routine. The only problem—not even really a problem, Kurt assured himself—had arisen that day in the Anderson's kitchen. With Blaine asleep on his lap he had felt…panicked; suddenly unable to breathe. He didn't give himself a chance to think about the feeling; instead, he promised to burry it. He started packing his schedule. Lunch dates with Finn and Puck, nights with Blaine, coffee with Trip, volunteering to take extra projects at work, the gym with Reese, errands with David until finally, at the end of the day, he would collapse into bed, too tired to think about anything at all.

Over Thanksgiving, his father had been worried, but Kurt had assured him it wasn't a big deal. It's good to keep busy.

He filled his days, his hours, his minutes because it was better to have the never ending chant of his schedule running through his mind than to let some other thoughts creep in…what it would be like if that constant twitch in Blaine's thumb were to still; what it would feel like to return to washed out lights reflecting off of slick, shiny hospital floors beneath pacing feet; what would happen if the smell of Blaine faded off of the collars of Kurt's jackets…

"Hey," Blaine's voice brought Kurt's thoughts back to the present.

Kurt shook the last remnants of the thoughts from his head and looked down at Blaine, "I thought you were sleeping."

"I am," Blaine blinked at him hazily, "You've got a death grip on my shoulder though."

"Sorry, lost in thought," Kurt released Blaine's arm quickly, and leaned down to press a kiss to Blaine's temple, "Will you do something for me?"

"Mhm." Blaine made to push himself up, but Kurt shook his head.

"Just hold my hand?" Kurt brushed his fingers down Blaine's arm, "Please?"

Blaine smiled and pulled a hand out from under his pillow. He laced his fingers neatly between Kurt's, "It's my bad hand; is that going to bug you if it's twitching funny while you're trying to study?"

"Not at all."

"…Doesn't having your arm twisted like that hurt?" Blaine frowned, though he already looked ready to fall back asleep.

"No, this is perfect," Kurt smiled, "Thank you."

With his free hand, Kurt pulled his phone back out and sent out the drafted message to the Warblers, smiling a little when he got a near-immediate response from three of them.

He meant to turn his attention back to studying—he really did—but there was something soothing in Blaine's proximity. His arm was indeed twisted awkwardly, but, sitting this way, Kurt could feel Blaine's breath on the back of his hand; feel the small movements of his fingers between his own. Everything about him was close and warm and vibrant. Kurt pushed the book off of his lap and slid until he was lying beside Blaine. He reached out his free hand and wrapped it around Blaine's wrist. The soft thrum of blood beneath his fingertips sang him to sleep better than any lullaby ever could.

The week moved fast—faster than normal. By the time Friday night rolled around, Kurt was buzzing with excitement.

Blaine watched in amusement as Kurt wriggled in his seat, "You'd think it was you getting to perform the way you're squirming around."

"I've had five cups of coffee today," Kurt shifted in his seat to face David, "Did you bring the flowers in like I told you?"

"Yes," David grumbled, nodding down to the space below his seat.

"Don't step on them during the show. Nobody wants a crushed bouquet."

"I still think flowers are too much," David mumbled.

"They are not. He's a performer, all performers like flowers," Kurt sniffed indignantly before turning to face Blaine again, "Right?"

"Right." Blaine agreed with a smile. He turned back toward the front and nodded, "Here come the troops."

Kurt nudged David's arm as the Warblers took the stage, "See him?"

David's eyes scanned the boys, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he quickly smothered it with a frown, "Yeah, I found him."

"He looks like he's playing nice at least," Blaine smiled when one of the boys beside Trip leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

"Is that his roommate? He gets along all right with his roommate," Kurt squinted to try and make out the boy's face better, "Do you remember his name? …Josh? Trey?"

David looked more intently at the mystery Warbler, "Is he, um…"

"Gay?" Kurt smirked knowingly, "No, you don't have any mystery competition for Trip's affections that we're aware of."

"We're working toward making him find friends, not more boyfriends." Blaine added.

Kurt could see the flush on David's cheeks even in the half-dark. David folded his arms across his chest and made an irritated sound in the back of his throat, "You two are like his fucking parents."

Kurt snorted, "In some respects, we are his parents. We're the only people in the world who love him despite all the shit he pulls."

Blaine looked at Kurt in surprise, "Did I just hear you imply you loved Trip?"

Kurt scowled, "No. Slip of the tongue."

"Freudian slip," Blaine grinned, "You adore him. You just referred to him as our child."

"How about you work on your word vomit slip ups before you start scrutinizing mine," Kurt clapped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words were out of his mouth; mortified that he'd make such an explicit joke about Blaine's issues.

Blaine laughed, "You're talking like Trip, too."

"I didn't mean that, Blaine, I swear, it wasn't funny—"

Blaine grinned, "I thought it was funny."

"No it wasn't, it was awful."

"Hey, come on, we have to be able to laugh about the cancer stuff sometimes, right?" Blaine reached over and squeezed Kurt's hand, "You've been too wound up lately; relax."

"Okay," Kurt managed a pained smile before looking back down at his program. He scanned the set list and suddenly his eyes went wide, "Did Trip mention anything about his solo to you?"

Blaine shrugged, "I assumed he'd get something. Why, what's he doing?"

"He doesn't just have one, he had three. He's the new you."

Blaine snatched the program out of Kurt's hands to look for himself. He let out a fluttery laugh, "That bastard; he didn't even tell his own mom and pop."

"Shut up with the parent thing," Kurt snatched the program back from Blaine and glanced back at the songs, "A couple risky song picks, too."

"What're they doing?" Blaine tried to look over Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt closed the program, "Try to remember."

"Can we not make this into a guessing game?" Blaine looked at him tiredly.

"Please try?"

Blaine looked at him wearily before sighing, "Okay…um…"

"Take your time," Kurt brushed his fingers over the top of Blaine's hand, "Try to picture it. It was right next to Trip's name."

David tore his eyes away from the stage to glance between Kurt and Blaine almost nervously.

Blaine stared down at his lap, deep in thought. After a minute passed he shook his head slowly; looked back up to Kurt's face, "It's gone."

Kurt squeezed his hand down over Blaine's a little harder, "That's okay. You tried. Here, go ahead and look."

Kurt held out the program to Blaine, but he only shook his head, "I don't… I'll be surprised when they start singing."

Kurt felt a pang of guilt sting his heart, "I didn't mean to push, Blaine, I'm—"

Blaine shook his head again; tried for a smile, "It's okay. You meant well… the lights are going down."

Kurt stole one last anxious look at Blaine's face before turning back to face the stage when a round of polite applause accompanied the boys starting a low chorus on the stage.

Trip stepped in front of the group; his face a mask of utter calm as his eyes scanned the audience like he could actually see their faces over the lights of the stage. He opened his mouth and the song poured out.

Into the night

Desperate and broken

The sound of a fight

Father has spoken.

We were the kings and queens of promise

We were the victims of ourselves

Maybe the children of a lesser god

Between heaven and hell, Heaven and hell.

Kurt knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't be bothered to care. Blaine's hand was loose in his; the audience was utterly still. Kurt wasn't sure what he was more captivated by; the voice filling the room, or Trip's transformation on the stage; the calm in his eyes; the almost-smile.

Into your eyes

Hopeless and taken

We stole our new lives

Through blood and pain

In defense of our dreams

In defense of our dreams

Blaine's hand squeezed his finally in a silent told you so.

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand back in response Okay, fine. You were right.

David was still frozen on Kurt's right, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes from the stage to check his expression.

We were the kings and queens of promise

We were the victims of ourselves

Maybe the children of a lesser god

Between heaven and hell.

We are the kings

We are the queens

We are the kings

We are the queens

There was a momentary stillness as the song ended; the last notes still hanging in the air, but then the audience was on their feet and the sound of applause filled the room.

"Wow."

"Told you." Blaine laughed; clapped louder.

"There's no way they're not going to Nationals." Kurt stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

The only one still sitting was David.

Kurt grinned down at him before turning to whisper in Blaine's ear, "Look at Dave."

Blaine reached over to pat David on the arm, "I know the feeling, pal. It's rough when a guy comes along and floors you in the middle of a song."

David blinked, "Huh?"

Blaine laughed and waved a hand in the air, "There are little hearts floating around your head right now, David."

David blushed scarlet, "I—no, I mean it was just—he was just—"

Kurt smiled, "I can't say I blame you right now."

David glanced sideways at Kurt, his glower melting a little, "He's…really good."

"Not the best the Warblers have had, but he is fantastic," Kurt nudged Blaine's arm gently and smiled.

"Definitely not the best," Blaine's eyes flitted over Kurt's face with a smile before they retook their seats.

The rest of the concert was more of the same—the audience standing after nearly every number and singing along when the Warblers did a few Christmas songs. By the time the final number ended, even the boys on stage were antsy with the excitement; the energy almost palpable in the air.

Trip stepped forward again, this time to a microphone situated at the front of the stage, "On behalf of the Warblers and myself, I'd like to extend our eternal gratitude to you all for coming out to support us tonight."

A roar of applause answered him.

"All ticket proceeds tonight are being donated to the American Cancer Society; if you'd like to donate more, you can stop at the tables out front on your way out. Thank you all, again, for attending. Goodnight."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look before standing with the rest of the crowd to applaud as the Warblers exited the stage.

Kurt gave David's shoulder a gentle push, "Come on, time to go congratulate your man."

The boys fought their way through the crowd until they were backstage, but then suffered a secondary wait while people crowded around Trip.

Blaine's eyes drifted around the space, "…Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"On graduation… you were back here with me, right?"

Kurt tore his eyes away from the crowd to look at Blaine. He squeezed his hand, "That's right. I let you wear the feather pin you gave me for my graduation. We stood right there."

Blaine's eyes went to the space Kurt was pointing to. He nodded, though his face showed no signs of recognition.

"All three of you came?"

Kurt turned his attention away from Blaine at the sound of Trip's voice, "I had to see if you lived up to all the hype."

Trip was flushed; smiling, "And?"

Kurt sighed, "And you did."

Trip nodded; pleased.

Blaine seemed to shake off whatever thoughts that had been clouding his eyes, because he was suddenly smiling; clapping Trip on the arm, "You guys are going straight to Nationals. I can already feel it."

"I could be modest and deny it, but I'm not going to," Trip grinned, then added a little more quietly, "They wanted to drag you up on the stage, but I talked them down from it and got them to settle for just doing the ACS thing…hope that's okay."

Blaine looked alarmed at the mere suggestion of being forced up onto the stage, but then smiled gratefully, "No, I appreciate it."

Trip's gaze moved to David, "Wasn't expecting to see you here."

Kurt stomped on David's foot when he didn't react immediately.

Dave shot Kurt an irritated look before turning his attention back to Trip. He blushed red as he held up the bouquet.

Trip took a step back; his expression immediately alarmed and then confused, "What… what're those?"

"Radioactive spiders, Trip." Kurt rolled his eyes.

Blaine elbowed Kurt and shot him a look.

"They're… they're for you," David finally met Trip's eyes, "You were great tonight."

Trip stared at the flowers for another minute before taking them tentatively. He held them between both hands and stared down at them; his expression still perplexed.

David looked nervous, "If you don't like them or something—"

"No," Trip shook his head; finally looked up to meet David's gaze, "I do—like them, I mean."

Suddenly, a tall boy with a shock of red hair appeared at Trip's side, "Flowers? No one got me flowers!"

Trip looked at the boy beside him and managed a smile, "I don't remember you doing any solos either."

"Because I'm a good team player and I know having you on lead is what's best for the team—just like when Blaine was here," The boy turned his smile toward Blaine.

"Were you on the Warblers when I was here?" Kurt studied the boy; sure he should remember such a noticeable head of hair.

"No, I was on the waiting list when you came in, but we had a geography class together—I'm Noah."

Kurt mentally ticked through the Warblers he'd been in contact with throughout the week, "Noah—that's right, you live across the hall from Trip, right?"

"Yeah; hey, thanks for inviting us all to your place tonight," Noah nudged Trip, "Should be a good time, hey buddy?"

"I—what?" Trip frowned.

"The after party!"

"What after party?"

"Your after party." Kurt beamed.

"I'm not having—did I miss something?" Trip looked between them in bewilderment.

"The Dalton Academy Warblers have been formally invited to attend a little post-show get together at the home of yours truly." Kurt motioned a hand between himself and David.

"And part-birthday party since you failed to mention your birthday to any of us." Noah added with a good-natured shove.

Trip didn't look pleased.

"It's going to be fun," Kurt insisted.

"Super fun." Blaine added.

"I should have let them pull you up on that stage." Trip grumbled.

"Trip, don't be pouty, it's a whole night dedicated to you, what could possibly be bad about that?"

Trip looked even less happy.

Blaine glanced at Kurt as if to say I warned you.

"Just for a few hours," Blaine turned to face Trip again and smiled reassuringly, "If you hate the whole thing, you can ditch."

Trip looked between them and finally sighed, "Fine."

Kurt clapped his hands together, "Noah, go round up the Warblers into their designated carpools. Do you all still have the directions I gave you?"

Noah pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, "Got 'em right here."

"Perfect; we'll meet you back at our place," Kurt started moving toward the exit, "Come on, Trip. You're coming with us."

"Why doesn't Trip just drive separate?" David finally spoke up before turning a smile toward Trip, "That way if you want to get out of there you'll have your car."

Trip relaxed a little; shifted the flowers until they were cradled in one of his arms, "Sure… ride with me?"

David smiled; nodded, "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Fine, just don't take any detours on the way back," Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's as they walked away, "I am brilliant. You are dating a genius, Blaine."

Blaine frowned, "I agree, but how so in this particular instance?"

"Blaine," Kurt patted Blaine's arm, "Do you honestly think David is smooth enough to think to suggest the car thing all on his own3?"

Blaine gaped, "You told him to do that?"

"Of course I did," Kurt smiled; pleased with himself.

"You conniving little—" Blaine shook his head; laughed, "What else do you have up your sleeve?"

"For David and Trip, I'm all out of tricks," Kurt pulled Blaine's door open for him once they reached the car before climbing into the driver's seat, "For you, I might be able to come up with a few more."

Blaine shivered and wrapped his arms tight around his middle, "You never cease to amaze me. You'll have to teach me your tricks someday."

"A magician never reveals his secrets, Blaine, everyone knows that," Kurt turned the heat up higher, "But for you, I might be able to share a few tips."

"I'm listening." Blaine smiled as he moved to press his fingers into the heating vents.

"Lesson one, always—and I do mean always—maintain an air of complete confidence and calm."

"They promised to be back here right away." Kurt stared irritably at the closed front door, "Where do you think they went? Do you think they ditched? I bet they did. I bet Trip thinks they're being hilarious and they're not even coming."

"We haven't even been here long enough to warm up from being outside," Blaine laughed, "Relax."

Kurt huffed, "If the Warblers get here before Trip and Dave then it's a little hard to have a birthday party for a birthday boy that's not even present."

"I thought the point of this—"

"Finally!" Kurt folded his arms across his chest and gave Trip a pointed look as he came in through the door, "I said no detours."

"We didn't. We were sitting out in the parking lot," Trip shrugged. The bouquet of flowers was dangling loosely from one of his hands.

"Give me those, I'll put them in a vase." Kurt held out a hand toward the bouquet.

Trip handed them over and moved to pull open Kurt's pantry, "Are you going to feed me? I'm starving."

"Pizza's set to be delivered in half an hour."

Trip groaned, "It can't be here sooner?"

"Stop complaining and make yourself useful," Kurt waved a hand toward the stereo, "Pick out some music."

Trip rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

Blaine slid onto the stool beside the counter and watched Kurt arrange Trip's flowers in a vase. He picked up a stray petal and turned it over between his fingers.

Kurt tilted his face in closer to the blooms to smell, "Remember the flowers you gave me at the airport when I got back from nationals junior year? These remind me of those."

Blaine looked up from the rose petal in his hand, "I gave you peonies—pink ones."

Kurt moved to the sink to fill the vase with water, "No, you gave me those orange tipped roses."

Blaine smiled; shook his head, "No, I gave you peonies at the airport. I gave you the roses the day after I told you I loved you for the first time."

Kurt replaced the vase on the counter; smiling, "You're right, you did… that was a lot of flowers over a very short time period."

Blaine reached out and tucked the loose petal down between the other flowers in the vase, "I was so excited that you said it back… I wanted an excuse to hear you say it again so I went out and bought the flowers before I went over to your place the next day."

Kurt leaned over the counter and touched a soft kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth, "I love you, I love you; I love you."

Blaine smiled; leaned in closer for another kiss, "Love you, too."

Kurt picked up the vase and moved it to the center of the kitchen table. He glanced toward the door at the sound of a knock. But before answering it, he went back to Blaine and pressed another kiss to his forehead; adjusted his hat, "Don't ever let anyone accuse you of having a bad memory, but don't get mad at me if I keep reminding you of how much I love you, okay?"

Blaine smiled, "How could I ever forget?"

Kurt touched one last kiss to Blaine's cheek before going to the door.

Despite the pack of Warblers arriving ten minutes ahead of schedule, and the protests that went up when David and Kurt tried to pay for the pizzas, Kurt was willing to forgive the slight breach in his plans. The only real stumbling point of the night was Blaine barely able to keep his eyes open. He sat on the couch beside Kurt, yawning and blinking hard as he tried to listen to the various former classmates that approached him, but Kurt wasn't fooled by Blaine's smiles and laughs. He was exhausted.

When nearly two hours had passed, and Blaine had yawned for what had to be the fiftieth time that night, Kurt leaned in close to his ear, "Bed time?"

Blaine glanced at his watch, "It's barely ten."

"And you're barely keeping your eyes open," Kurt stood and held out a hand to Blaine, "Dave can captain the party for a few hours, come on."

Blaine glanced around at the small crowd of people before reluctantly taking Kurt's hand and letting him haul him to his feet.

Despite the music and activity, there was a round of whistles and catcalls as Kurt pulled Blaine through his bedroom door.

Kurt rolled his eyes as he closed the door, "Perverts."

"We shouldn't disappoint them, Kurt." Blaine sat down on the edge of the bed with a smirk.

"If you can stay awake long enough to do more than kiss me, have at it." Kurt laughed.

"I can." Blaine stifled a loud yawn.

"So hot."

"Shut up," Blaine laughed, "And hit the light."

"Whatever you say," Kurt flicked off the light switch before moving carefully toward the bed, "Are you still awake?"

"Ha ha, very funny, did you get lost? Where are you?"

Kurt reached out in front of him and groped blindly at the air until his hand connected with something, "Found you."

"You found my nose," Blaine pulled Kurt's hand into his and guided him closer until they were lying back on the bed.

Kurt sighed when Blaine's mouth found his neck.

"Still just wanna go to sleep?" Blaine moved his mouth up and nipped lightly at Kurt's ear.

"Less talking and more kissing, please," Kurt fumbled with Blaine's cardigan until he found the buttons.

Blaine sat back to shrug off the sweater before reattaching himself to Kurt's neck.

Kurt frowned. Something felt not right, too…wet, "Um, Blaine?"

"I thought we weren't talking," Blaine murmured.

"We're not, but, um," Kurt pushed Blaine away gently, "There's either something seriously wrong with your technique or you're going out of your way to drool on me."

"Wha—uh oh."

Kurt wiped a hand over his wet neck, "What?"

"Could you turn a light on?"

Kurt found the switch and twisted it quickly. He turned his hand over and was shocked to see red glistening in the soft glow of his lamp; already turning a crackling, brick red around the edges. He twisted around to face Blaine again and let out a short gasp, "Oh!"

A frown creased Blaine's mouth beneath the sticky slide of blood making it's way down his face; curving and dripping like tears off his chin. He touched a hand to his nose and pulled it away to look. He sighed, "That's what I was afraid of."

Kurt groped blindly for a moment at the nightstand for a box of tissues before remembering he hadn't bought any in weeks. He settled for whatever he could grab—which just so happened to be his shirt—but the second he touched the fabric to Blaine's face, Blaine was recoiling, "Blaine, hold st—"

"That's your shirt." Blaine held a hand cupped around his nose and mouth; muffling his voice, "You love that shirt."

"Funny thing is, I love you more," Kurt rolled his eyes and made a grab for Blaine's wrist, but Blaine pulled away again. Kurt let on an exasperated noise, "Blaine, hold still."

Blaine shook his head; sniffled; grimaced, "Ew, it's in my throat; I can taste it."

Kurt let out another irritated growl before assessing the situation again. He still had his clothes on and Blaine was fully clothed apart from his sweater. He listened to the vibration of the bass outside the room for a moment, "Do you mind running over to the bathroom with me quick? I don't have Kleenex in here, and we're going to need to clean you up anyway."

Blaine glanced toward the door; apprehension momentarily knitting his brow into a frown before he nodded slowly.

"We'll walk fast; keep our heads low so people don't notice us." Kurt nodded assuredly and offered a hand to Blaine as he pushed himself off the bed.

Blaine slid his hand into Kurt's; his fingers not really forming any sort of grip.

Kurt covered Blaine's hand with both of his and hoisted him to his feet; holding him steady when he stumbled a little, "Did you drink anything tonight?"

"Just a few sips of your wine," Blaine's voice came muffled around his hand.

Their eyes met and, for a moment, neither one of them said anything.

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand a little tighter, "Come on; lets go do some damage control."

Kurt should have had more foresight and gone to fetch Kleenex and a wet washcloth by himself, but now the door was open and they were both blinking in the sudden bright lights and there was no turning back.

The room held the faint scent of pizza and beer and the furniture practically vibrated with the pulse of the bass. People stood too close together; deep in animated conversation and dancing and sipping from red Solo cups. Despite the discordant activity all over the space, half the eyes in the room turned when Kurt slid the door open; a loud cheer took over the small crowd at their emergence.

Kurt smiled weakly back at them and tried to usher Blaine forward with an arm around his waist, hoping no one would notice the bloodied mess that had started to stain the front of his shirt.

"Well, well, well, that was quick; we didn't think we'd be seeing you for the rest of the night." Trip was flushed and smiling as he approached; a cup held loosely in one of his hands.

"Momentary set back." Kurt frowned when he was suddenly unable to move; trapped between the television and a little pack of Warblers chatting animatedly with one another.

Blaine had kept his head low, a decent solution to keeping people from seeing his bloodied shirt and face, but a hindrance to his ability to watch where he was going. He bumped into the back of one of the Warblers and his hand was jarred; a spot of red bloomed out on the rug, "Sorry!"

"Hush, it's fine; I've been dying to try out my steam vac anyway." Kurt half-shouted in his ear over the music.

"Shit, what happened?" Trip tipped his head to get a better look at Blaine's face before looking in alarm back up at Kurt.

"Bloody nose. It's nothing," Kurt sighed in irritation, "We just need to get to the bathroom to clean him up."

Trip turned to the group in front of them without another word to Kurt, "Hey, assholes, move it."

One of the Warblers looked over his shoulder in surprise and then laughed upon seeing Trip's face, "Okay, okay; chill. Your man's over in the kitchen, ya know, if you need anyone to get out of your way, it should be the guys over there that you're bitching at."

Trip froze for a second; studying the others' faces, but for what Kurt wasn't sure.

Another Warbler—Kurt was fairly sure his name was Robbie—clapped Trip on the shoulder and laughed, "Relax, man, it's not like it was a big secret."

"You two have been making eyes at each other all night." Agreed the first. He looked over the crowd toward the kitchen before smiling at Trip again, "He's cute in a lineman sort of way, I guess."

"I—" Trip gaped at them and the expression was enough for Kurt to momentarily forget Blaine and his bloody nose.

"Jesus Christ, Blaine, what happened?"

Kurt flinched when the first Warbler looked in alarm at Blaine still standing close to Kurt's side. Before either one of them could offer an explanation, more people were taking notice. Gasping over the red seeping between Blaine's fingers now, and all trying with little success to offer some form of support.

"—I've got a handkerchief—"

"—Supposed to tip your head back…or maybe it's forward—"

"—Should we call someone? Maybe we should call—"

Trip's bewildered expression quickly moved to purposeful, "Calm the fuck down, it's just a little blood. Move so they can get to the bathroom."

Kurt tucked his arm tighter around Blaine and half-pushed him through the sudden clearing and let out a relieved sigh when his bare feet touched cold tile. He turned to lock the door, but then a quick foot was shoved through, the rest of the body gliding in just as nimbly. Trip.

"Mind if I stay for a minute?" Trip smiled awkwardly, "…Hot out there."

Kurt waved a hand dismissively as he started pulling a handful of Kleenex from the box on the counter, "Lock the door."

Obediently, Trip flipped the lock into place before letting out a sharp gasp, "Shit, Blaine."

Blaine was bent over the sink; his face smeared with too much blood and even more pooled in the bottom of the sink. It stained the white porcelain as it slid lazily toward the drain. He spit another mouthful in with the rest, "Ugh, I hate blood."

Kurt's face paled a little when he looked down at the sink, but then he was moving—quick and efficient. A wad of Kleenex shoved into Blaine's left hand once he was perched on the edge of the counter, patient instructions to hold it to his nose and no, don't tip your chin back, that's how you get blood down your throat, and finally a wet washcloth worked gently over Blaine's free hand to rid it of rusty, sticky stains.

Trip sat on the counter beside Blaine, watching Kurt try to work out the dried crimson at the edges of Blaine's fingernails, "Did you elbow him in the face or something?"

"No, we weren't—wait, yes I did! But I didn't think I hit into you that hard—"

Blaine was already shaking his head, "You barely touched me."

"So it just happened out of the blue?" Trip looked between Kurt and Blaine.

"I've had them before," Blaine mumbled; his voice nasal from the tissue pressed to his face, "I got them before chemo, too—it's too dry outside."

"Mm." Trip hummed his understanding but said nothing else. His eyes drifted toward the door when a loud, familiar burst of laughter trickled through. David.

Kurt looked up from his work to watch Trip's face; tried to read the feelings there.

Trip caught his eye when he finally tore his gaze away from the door, and, much to Kurt's alarm, he blushed.

"Everything all right?" Kurt asked quietly, his eyes moving back down to Blaine's fingers.

Trip was silent for a long minute, "… Did you or Blaine say something to them?"

Kurt frowned as his gaze returned to Trip's face, "Say something to who about what?"

"The Warblers," Trip snapped, "about me being gay."

Blaine shook his head, "That's your call."

Kurt nodded his agreement, "…I take it you didn't tell them either?"

Trip's eyes were back on the door. He shook his head, "I don't make a point of socializing with them period."

"They seem to like you either way," Kurt smiled a little.

"It's like a room full of fucking toned down Blaine's. None of them take a hint." Trip muttered but bumped his shoulder against Blaine's good-naturedly.

"They like to make a point of making everyone feel welcome. They're good people." Blaine shrugged.

Trip was frowning down at his lap, "How do you know it's not a joke?"

Kurt frowned, "What do you mean?"

Trip was glaring in full force at his fists clenched in his lap, "How do you know they're not just pretending to be okay with me? How do you know they don't have a… an angle they're playing at."

"Why would they pretend to be nice just to hurt you?" Kurt's hands paused around Blaine's.

"Because people are really fucking terrible, that's why!" Trip's voice echoed off the bathroom walls.

Kurt watched Trip's face—anger and frustration and pain. So much pain, "They're not like that, Trip. I promise."

"You don't know that." Trip growled.

"And how do you know they will be?" Kurt retorted. He offered Blaine a fresh handful of tissues and tried not to look too closely at the saturated wad of Kleenex Blaine dropped into the trashcan beside the counter.

"People don't just accept you for, for…" Trip grimaced, "Straight guys don't tell you they think your crush is cute. They don't."

"I tell my girlfriends their boyfriends are cute all the time, and I tell my straight male friends their girlfriends are gorgeous on a regular basis." Kurt retorted.

"It's different," Trip leaned back against the mirror; his face suddenly much, much older, "It's different when it's guys."

"They're not your old friends, Trip." Blaine's voice was quiet.

Trip didn't respond. He chewed at his lip and then looked surprised as though he'd forgotten the ring was gone. He glanced at Blaine, "You're about five minutes from bleeding out all over the bathroom floor."

"He is not." Kurt snapped. He rested his hands a little above Blaine's knees, "Can I see?"

Blaine pulled the tissue away reluctantly, "How bad is it?"

Kurt touched a hand to Blaine's chin to tip his head back, "I think it stopped."

"You think?" Blaine echoed.

Kurt snorted, "Take a look in the mirror and you tell me if you can figure out if it's still bleeding or not."

Blaine twisted around to eye his reflection. His cheeks went oddly pale as his eyes roved over his face. Not just the blood—he studied his cheeks and his hair and the contours of his face underneath the dried blood cracking across his jaw like stained glass.

There was something solemn in the way he looked; studied himself. Kurt sought out a new washcloth and soaked it in warm water, "Nothing we can't clean up."

Blaine was still staring in the mirror. Trip was staring down at his lap.

The room was silent apart from running water and the quiet sound of Blaine's breathing a little too hard.

Kurt touched a hand to Blaine's cheek; coaxed him back to facing forward. He smiled when their eyes met and gently began to work the washcloth over Blaine's face.

Blaine reached up and wrapped his hand around Kurt's wrist, "I can do it."

"I know you can," Kurt met his eyes, "…but will you let me?"

Blaine held onto his wrist for another minute before letting go.

Kurt set back to work and managed a small smile, "Good thing I got that sweater off of you."

Blaine smiled back feebly, "Good thing."

Kurt cleaned away the last of the blood at the corner of Blaine's mouth before touching a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, "All better."

"Not quite," Blaine pulled a fresh tissue from the box on the counter and wet it beneath the tap. He held it out toward Kurt, "Tilt your head up a little."

Kurt angled his neck and let Blaine wipe away the forgotten blood dried to his skin.

"This is not nearly as nice as cleaning up paint." Blaine smiled, tossing the crumpled tissue into the garbage with the rest.

"No, it's not."

"Are you—hey, what's the matter?" Blaine searched Kurt's face.

"I—" Kurt suddenly realized his eyes were burning with unshed tears, "Nothing. It's—it must be the girls' time of month. I'm getting hormonal."

Blaine didn't look convinced, "Kurt, is something bothering you?"

Trip was watching now; his face contemplative and his hands still clenched tight in his lap, "…do you want me to leave?"

"No," Kurt forced a smile; swallowed down the tears, "We're done here. All cleaned up, right?"

Blaine looked unconvinced.

"Do you want to go back to bed or rejoin the festivities?" Kurt held out both hands to Blaine to pull him down off of the countertop.

"Whichever you prefer." Blaine was still searching Kurt's face.

"Bed it is then," Kurt turned his attention to Trip, "Are you okay to control your Warblers?"

Trip looked as unconvinced by Kurt's sudden cheeriness as Blaine did, "…Yeah, that's fine."

"Perfect," Kurt tugged Blaine out toward the family room where, thankfully, most of the boys had enough sense to just smile rather than cause another commotion.

Trip held out the box of tissues from the bathroom, "Might want to take that with you; avoid a second accident…they're good for all sorts of cleanup."

"Thanks," Kurt snorted and took the box. He glanced toward where David was still standing near the kitchen and then back at Trip, "Can I offer you some friendly advice?"

"As long as you don't expect me to do anything with it." Trip shrugged.

"Take a chance, Trip," Kurt smiled a little.

Trip's gaze drifted toward David. He gave a small nod.

Kurt and Blaine slipped back into the bedroom quietly and Blaine retook his spot on the bed, "Sorry for the mood killer."

"Another time," Kurt shrugged; smiled.

Blaine watched him undress quietly; worked his tongue around his mouth.

Kurt met his eyes as he crawled into bed, "I can tell you're bothering that sore in your mouth again. Leave it alone."

"Fine… come here," Blaine pushed at Kurt until his back was to him.

"Is this my punishment for stopping us from having sex? I can't even face you while we sleep?" Kurt teased.

"Not at all," Blaine slid a hand up Kurt's shirt; dragged his nails down his skin in long, lazy strokes.

"Mm, that's even better than a back rub. I'll scratch your arms for you later, I swear."

"I could be selfless and say you don't have to do that, but you know I can't resist that kind of an offer." Blaine laughed quietly; still running his nails lightly over Kurt's skin, "…Kurt?"

"Mm."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm in heaven." Kurt sighed.

"No, I mean…" Blaine sighed, "You've been working yourself hard lately. You never stop going."

"I like to be busy." Kurt slurred; nearly delirious with relaxation.

"I know you do, but…doesn't it seem kind of excessive?"

"No—right there again," Kurt sighed; arched his back up into Blaine's hand.

"You're going to burn yourself out," Blaine's hand stilled, "It's okay if you're not holding it all together all of the time, Kurt."

"I know that…" Kurt was quiet for a moment before rolling over to face Blaine, "I just… I want to focus on good things, Blaine, I don't want to sit around and let my mind drift."

"Where do you think it's going to drift to if you do?" Blaine slid his hand around to Kurt's front; fanned his fingers out against the soft skin.

"I just… I like to be busy. I like to stay focused on happy things because that's what I want to be," Kurt pulled Blaine's hand out from under his shirt and tangled their fingers together, "That's what I am."

Blaine was quiet for a minute, "…I'm happy, too."

Kurt smiled into the dark, "That makes me even happier… know what else would make me happy?"

"Hm?"

Kurt rolled back onto his stomach, "If you'd keep scratching my back."

Blaine laughed quietly and slipped his hand under Kurt's shirt; hummed quietly along to the music playing out in the family room.

Long after Blaine's hand stilled on his back, Kurt lay awake listening to the party going on outside.

Amidst the hum of activity outside the room, Kurt felt it again—the strange fear; the heaviness; the loneliness. He rolled in closer to Blaine and nuzzled his face close enough to feel Blaine's breath on his face.

Blaine stirred. He shifted until his hand came out from under Kurt's shirt and lay loosely draped across his hip. He smacked in his sleep, and mumbled a slurred, "Kurt."

Kurt smiled and closed his eyes, shifting Blaine's arm until he found that soft warm spot on the inside of his wrist. He pressed a kiss to it, "Blaine."

He slept through the night and dreamed of nothing but soft warmth and music.