Everything about Kurt's bedroom was warm and glowing and perfect. Blaine's breath on his neck, his shoulder trapping Kurt's arm to the pillow and making his fingers tingle with lack of blood; the sun on the pillows creeping in around the edge of the curtains; their combined heat caught underneath the blankets.

Kurt rolled onto his side and tucked his free arm around Blaine and basked in it all.

"Mmm," Blaine hummed quietly, still half-asleep.

"Good morning," Kurt murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Blaine blinked at him sleepily; even in the muted light, he squinted, "Did you sleep over?"

"You slept at my place, silly. We had a birthday party for Trip." Kurt rubbed his hand over Blaine's back; massaged a tight knot of muscles between his shoulder blades.

Blaine closed his eyes again. After a minute, he nodded slowly, "Right."

"How'd you sleep?" Kurt slid his hand up to the back of Blaine's neck; traced his fingers over the curve of the vertebrae there.

"Mm, still sleeping," Blaine smiled; his eyes still closed. He rolled onto his side and pressed in closer until their chests were flush with one another. He tucked his head under Kurt's chin and tangled their legs together with a quiet hum of contentment.

The arm still caught beneath Blaine was beginning to ache in protest to the lack of blood in his fingers. Kurt curled it up around Blaine's shoulders and rolled them both until he was on his back and Blaine's head was resting against his chest.

Blaine mumbled an irritated sound; clutched his fingers in tighter to Kurt's shirt, "Don't get up yet."

"I wasn't going to, but we were going to have to amputate my arm if it didn't get a little blood flowing soon."

"Sorry," Blaine murmured. He brushed his fingers out across Kurt's chest.

"Would you still love me if we had to cut off my hand?" Kurt smiled up at the shadowy patterns on the ceiling.

"Mhm."

"What about my nose? Would you love me if I had no nose?"

"Mhm."

"What about my upper lip? What if I had no upper lip?"

Kurt felt the soft movement of Blaine's chest moving with a quiet laugh, "Why wouldn't you have a top lip?"

"Tragic accident, I don't know. Are you avoiding the question?" Kurt prodded Blaine lightly in the ribs.

"I'd still love you," Blaine nodded against Kurt's chest; his voice still raspy with sleep.

Kurt drummed his fingers thoughtfully across Blaine's back, "Would you still love me if I didn't have—"

"Yes."

Kurt pouted, "I didn't even get to finish, I could have said something really terrible."

"I'd love you no matter what." Blaine mumbled.

"There's not one thing, not a single thing you can think of that, if I were to lose, I might suddenly become drastically less desirable?" Kurt huffed.

"Fine… your soul," Blaine yawned, "If you didn't have that, then we'd have a problem."

"Why is that the line?"

"You wouldn't be you," Blaine mumbled, "Aren't we going back to sleep?"

Kurt slid his left hand over Blaine's right on his chest; pressed his fingers lightly against his thumb until it was still against his t-shirt, "Where would it go if it wasn't in me?"

"Your soul?" Blaine murmured.

Kurt nodded before he remembered Blaine couldn't see him, "Yeah… we've never really talked about it, but… do you believe in heaven and that stuff?"

"Not the kind in the bible I don't think—with clouds and halos and whatever…" Blaine was quiet for so long, Kurt thought he'd fallen asleep again, but then he was talking; the soft hum in his chest vibrating against Kurt's side, "If I tell you what I think, will you promise not to laugh?"

"Of course," Kurt squeezed his hand over Blaine's a little tighter.

"I think you just kind of…" Blaine sighed, "I can't think of the word…you die and then there's little pieces of you, sort of…. in everything. Like sunshine and rain and grass and birds and stuff. Like really, really small parts of it though… so it's like you're nowhere and everywhere."

"What made you think of that?" Kurt asked softly; tracing the pads of his fingers over the back of Blaine's hand.

Blaine, apparently resigned to giving up on sleeping, turned his head until he was looking up at Kurt. He rested his chin on his arm; still blinking sleepily, "Ya know how sometimes… sometimes all the sudden you see something or touch something or you're not even really doing anything at all, but you get that weird sort of really happy feeling for a second?"

Kurt nodded.

"I think…" Blaine blushed, "When I was little, I asked my grandma about it, and she told me it was angel wings brushing up against you when you feel that way, but… I guess I started thinking of it sort of different… I liked the idea of it being the good pieces of people left over and when you find one that recognizes you—someone who knew you or…or thought they should know you maybe, you just get that feeling like…like that little second or minute where things feel really…right or good or I don't know…it sounds stupid in words."

"No," Kurt shook his head; lifted his hand to stroke a thumb over Blaine's cheek, "It's nice."

Blaine's eyes fluttered away from Kurt's before looking back up at his face again almost shyly, "Sometimes… lately especially…. I wonder if I found something of your mom if I'd get that feeling. If she'd know me… if she'd know who I am to you."

Kurt sniffled when his vision suddenly blurred with warm tears.

Blaine pushed himself up until his head was resting beside Kurt's on the pillow. He brushed the tears away with a shaky hand, "I'm sorry—I wasn't trying to upset you. I know you don't believe in this sort of stuff—"

"I'm not upset…" Kurt stopped Blaine's hand against his cheek, "You just know how to overwhelm me constantly, don't you?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine's eyes searched Kurt's, "I wasn't trying to—"

"Hush, I didn't mean it as a bad thing," Kurt smiled weakly, "You're painfully perfect, you know that, right?"

"I'm far from perfect," Blaine smiled, too.

"You're a very flawed variety of perfection," Kurt conceded. He touched a kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth, "For one, you have terrible morning breath."

Blaine laughed against Kurt's mouth, "So do you."

"I propose a plan," Kurt pushed himself up on an elbow, "We brush our teeth and then come back to bed."

"I like that plan," Blaine smiled lazily, but he recoiled back under the blankets barely a second after sitting up, "It's freezing!"

"Suck it up, we're coming right back. I'll even let you put your awful cold toes on me until they warm up after our little oral hygiene field trip to the bathroom."

Blaine rolled onto his stomach and wrapped the blanket in tight around his shoulders.

"I'm not touching you until you brush your teeth, Blaine Anderson." Kurt searched the floor for his pajama bottoms but paused to give Blaine a pointed look.

"Fine, fine," Blaine grumbled. He sat up; the comforter still clutched around his chest. In one quick, albeit clumsy, movement, he climbed out of the bed, pulling the comforter with him. He walked to the door and turned to look at Kurt, "Coming?"

Kurt stared at him with a mix of amusement and irritation, "You cannot be serious."

Blaine hugged the blanket in closer over his shoulders, "I'm problem solving."

"No, you're just being a problem," Kurt found his pants stuck halfway under the bed. He gave Blaine another look as he pulled them on, "We're going to have to put the bed back in order now after we brush our teeth which means even less time sleeping for you."

"I don't mind sleeping in a messy bed," Blaine pushed the door open and padded toward the bathroom; the comforter dragging behind him like the train of a dress.

"Well, I do, " Kurt wrinkled his nose when Blaine dragged the comforter with him into the bathroom, "On second thought, I might just be throwing that straight in the laundry."

"The floors are fine, I got up this morning and cleaned."

Kurt jumped at the sound of David's voice, but then smiled upon seeing him in the kitchen, "Thank you, Dave. It looks great."

David nodded, "I didn't vacuum yet—you were all still sleeping, but the bathroom's fine. I used that Swiffer thing you got us."

"All?" Kurt echoed, a slow smile creeping over his mouth, "Is Trip still here?"

David looked down at the counter, but Kurt didn't miss the smile on his face, "Yeah… he's still asleep."

"Hm, he's usually out of here before the sun's even out." Kurt deviated from his path to the bathroom to move into the kitchen.

"Yeah, well, we didn't get to sleep until like five, so…" David shrugged.

Kurt cringed, "You can spare me the details; I've got a boyfriend, I know how it works."

David flushed red, "No! Not because of—I mean we did, but—we were just…talking."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow, "Talking?"

David nodded, his cheeks still colored pink. He stared down at the countertop; traced his fingers over a spot that wasn't there.

"What'd you talk about?" Kurt tilted his head and tried to catch David's eye.

"A lot of stuff," David gave up on the spot and glanced up at Kurt, "Our parents, school stuff, music… he… he told me a lot of stuff about when he first came out… his friends were terrible to him…really, really terrible."

Kurt's smile faltered, "Blaine's mentioned people weren't always kind to him."

"I…" David looked up to meet Kurt's eyes, "After hearing it…I know you told me to stop apologizing, but I—I need to say it again. I'm so freaking sorry, Kurt, I think about it sometimes and I don't even know—"

"The actions are inexcusable but that doesn't mean you're unforgivable, Dave. You're trying, I know that." Kurt smiled a little.

"I'm not… I know I'm not great at this stuff— the past few months have scared the shit out of me, but…" He shook his head like he wasn't even sure how to finish the sentence.

Kurt touched a hand to his arm lightly, "You seem really happy, David."

David glanced up again; a shy smile finally bloomed over his face, "I am."

"I'm glad," Kurt squeezed his arm once more before going back to the bathroom to join Blaine.

"Ith 'Rip thill 'ere?" Blaine spoke around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Yeah, he's sleeping." Kurt eyed Blaine's situation and sighed. He was clutching the blanket with one hand at his chest and trying to brush his teeth with his other hand.

"I oost 'or 'oofbuf."

"I can see that," Kurt smirked and moved in closer; he batted Blaine's hand away from the toothbrush and took a hold of it himself, "I'll brush, open up."

Blaine bared his teeth at him and tried not to laugh as Kurt scrubbed at his teeth, "Eeeeee."

Kurt giggled, "You are such a child."

Trip appeared in the doorway, still blinking sleepily and wearing an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants that looked about five sizes too big, "You two are so domestic I could puke."

"Morning, sunshine," Kurt smiled at his reflection in the mirror, "Get in line and I'll do yours next."

"Thanks but no thanks." Trip rubbed his eyes groggily. He stepped in beside Blaine and pulled open David's drawer to pull a toothbrush out, "I have my own."

Blaine spat into the sink, "I don't even have my own toothbrush here."

"You don't have to run off to school three times a week from here." Trip stuck the toothbrush in his mouth and scrubbed a little harder than was really necessary.

Blaine shuffled out of the bathroom, leaving Kurt and Trip to brush their teeth alone.

Kurt studied Trip silently until he spat in the sink, "Happy birthday, by the way."

Trip spat in the sink and rinsed his toothbrush clean before replacing it in the drawer, "Thanks… for everything—the party and stuff, I mean. You guys didn't have to do that."

"Of course we did," Kurt wrinkled his nose when he turned to scrutinize his face in the mirror.

Trip was quiet for a moment; he watched Kurt pull a jar of skin cream out of the medicine cabinet and dab his fingers into it, "You look different when you're not all dolled up."

Kurt shot Trip an icy look as he rubbed the moisturizer into his cheeks.

"I didn't say you looked bad," Trip held up both hands in defense, "Just different without your hair all…styled and stuff."

"Thank you for the observation," Kurt rolled his eyes and replaced the jar with an array of others.

Trip chuckled, but then his expression fell as he looked toward the bathroom door, "I don't think he's ever been up when I've left before… do I have to say something or can I just go?"

Kurt looked at Trip almost sympathetically, "Did you consider hanging around for awhile?"

"That's not really the way our thing is set up, Kurt," Trip wrinkled his nose, "We don't brush each other's teeth."

"I think you should stick around for a little bit. See how it goes." Kurt shrugged.

Trip fidgeted, "I don't know if… I don't know if he wants that."

"When have you ever cared about other people's wants?" Kurt smiled a little.

"Solid point," Trip mumbled, his fingers worrying the hem of his t-shirt.

"Take a chance, Trip," Kurt met Trip's eyes for a brief second before turning and making his way out of the bathroom. He smirked to himself when he heard Trip trailing behind him.

Blaine was leaned against the counter, staring down into the toaster. He glanced up to smile at Kurt, "I stole two pieces of bread, is that okay?"

"How dare you feed yourself in my house," Kurt shook a finger at Blaine and smiled, "No interest in sleeping in anymore?"

As if on cue, Blaine yawned, "Eventually…I propose a crusting day."

"What the hell is a crusting day?" Trip kept his eyes on Blaine, careful not to look back toward where David was standing at the stove, "Are you fucking up your words?"

"No! It's when you don't do anything and just sit around, and, you know…crust." Blaine looked to Kurt for confirmation.

"He's the one who started using the term, but he's not having a word find issue, that really is what he calls it," Kurt allowed Blaine to wrap them both in the blanket he was still holding around his shoulders, "No matter how disgusting I think it sounds."

"It's not disgusting." Blaine insisted.

"Crusting is what happens to food that gets left out overnight. Crusting is what happens to your eyes when you're sleeping and you're sick. There is not a single thing not gross about implying we are going to be so lazy that we might actually start to congeal with lack of activity." Kurt pulled himself out of Blaine's blanket cocoon when the toast popped up. He pulled both pieces out nimbly and dropped them down on a paper towel, "And I have a project I need to work on, but you're more than welcome to spend the day on the couch watching movies while I work."

Blaine sat down on a barstool and pulled a corner off one piece of toast, "Deal."

When Trip attempted to snatch a piece of Blaine's breakfast up, Kurt slapped his hand away, "Don't steal food from my too skinny boyfriend. Get your own."

"You always make me breakfast before I leave." Trip whined.

"Correction, I make me breakfast, and you steal it as you run out the door." Kurt went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of soymilk, but spared Trip a withering glare.

"Fine, I'll starve," Trip huffed.

"No you won't, I'm gonna feed you, just give me a sec." David finally spoke up from his place at the stove.

Trip watched quietly as David pulled down plates and cups, "You, um, want me to grab anything?"

"No, just sit down." David dropped a plate down on the island, but Trip made no move to sit. He stood awkwardly and stared down at the red ring painted around the edge of the plate until David was dishing food out of the pan and onto Trip's empty plate.

"Pancakes?" Trip blinked down at them; his voice distant.

"With cinnamon in them," David paused, "… you said that's what you liked when you were a kid, right?"

"I…" Trip was still staring down at the plate, "Yeah, I did."

David nodded, assured, and moved back to the pantry to retrieve syrup. He put it down beside Trip's plate, "What do you want to drink? I've got orange juice and milk… Kurt might be willing to part with some of his soy, organic stuff if you're into that."

"Orange juice is fine." Trip toyed with the syrup bottle.

"Orange juice it is then," David filled both of their glasses before filling up his own plate. He smiled at Trip, "You wanna sit down?"

"Oh, uh, yeah… sure." Trip followed David to the table with his food and took the seat across from him.

Kurt watched them surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye as he pushed two more pieces of bread into the toaster for himself.

Blaine stared unabashedly; a grin on his face as he looked between them. Kurt elbowed him.

They all ate in silence for a minute. The sound of forks scraping against plates and Kurt spreading butter on his toast was the only thing breaking the otherwise total silence.

Trip's gaze drifted from his plate to the vase of flowers and then back down to his plate again.

David watched Trip eat, "You like them?"

Trip smiled, looking slightly more at ease, "Love them."

"Good," David glanced over at Kurt and Blaine, "If you guys want some, there's more on the plate by the stove."

"We're fine," Blaine motioned at his toast. He looked between David and Trip again before Kurt's elbow jabbing him in the side had him once again facing forward.

"Work today, Dave?" Kurt settled into the open seat beside Blaine to eat his own breakfast.

"Nah, not until Monday; we're through the worst of stuff for now," David stabbed a forkful of pancakes and motioned it toward Kurt, "Almost done with that crap that's been taking over our family room floor?"

"It's not crap, it's for the Christmas display," Kurt huffed, "And if you'd have helped me fold the cranes, I'd be done by now."

"I can help today—I might be a bigger hindrance than help, but I can try." Blaine got up to drop the rest of his food into the trashcan.

"Trust me, you won't want to help once you see what he's doing," David rolled his eyes, "And he's a Nazi about how you have to do things. He'll just get pissed at you."

"I got mad at you one time and it was with good reason," Kurt turned his gaze to Trip, "I asked him to help me make these trees made out of wrapped cardboard and it was an absolute disaster."

"Should've asked someone with more nimble fingers," Trip put his fork down on his empty plate and wiggled his own fingers in display.

"I'll keep you in mind next time I need five artificial tree stumps," Kurt sighed, "Really though, the cranes are much easier to make—it's just the number of them that's a little…daunting."

"How many do you need?" Blaine licked butter off of his fingers, his gaze still flitting over to the kitchen table from time to time.

"…Two thousand."

"Jesus," Blaine's eyes went wide, "Why would you agree to that?"

Kurt shrugged, "I've been asking myself that all week. I have boxes full of them at work and taking up all the space under my bed, but I still need a lot more. It would be wonderful if I had a roommate who was willing to help me."

"I'll think about it," David conceded. He glanced at Trip's empty plate, "Do you want more?"

"No, thanks, I think I just ate half my weight in under twenty minutes." Trip stood and moved toward the sink with his plate and glass; stumbling over the cuffs of his sweatpants as he went.

David moved quickly to follow him, "I can take care of the dishes."

"It's fine," Trip started the sink and held his plate underneath the water.

David moved to stand behind him; his hand stilling Trip's wrist, "Really; we have a dishwasher that I can put them in. Don't worry about it."

"Fine… thanks." Trip turned off the tap, but before he could move toward the dishwasher, David wrapped his arms around him from behind; hugged him close.

He touched a kiss to the back of Trip's head, "Happy birthday."

"I—" Trip stood perfectly still in David's embrace, until finally, slowly, the tension melted from his shoulders and he lifted a hand to squeeze David's forearm, "Thank you, David."

Kurt pulled at Blaine's sleeve and nodded toward the bedroom.

Blaine followed him wordlessly, tripping over the edge of the comforter as they went.

Kurt closed the door behind them as quietly as he could before turning to face Blaine who was already seated on the bed, "Oh. My. God."

"Was that another one of your magic tricks?" Blaine teased. He flopped back on the bed.

"That was entirely Dave," Kurt hummed happily and stretched himself out beside Blaine. He rested his head on Blaine's stomach, "Have you ever seen Trip that…that mellow?"

Blaine shook his head, still smiling up at the ceiling.

Kurt sighed blissfully, "Hmm, remember when we first got together?"

"I kept a journal." Blaine smiled; blushed.

"You did?" Kurt rolled onto his stomach and scooted closer to Blaine.

Blaine nodded, met Kurt's eyes for a moment, "I started keeping it when I first went to Dalton but I didn't write much in it until I was all of the sudden head over heels crazy for you. I didn't know what to do with myself so I'd just… write it all down."

"Am I ever going to get to read this journal?" Kurt teased.

Blaine laughed quietly, "Maybe if I'm in the mood to unabashedly embarrass myself."

"Come on," Kurt whined, "Please?"

Blaine motioned a hand toward Kurt's closet, "Maybe I'll put it in your New York box just to put off letting you read it."

"I'll barter with you for it," Kurt tipped his head down and looked up at Blaine through his lashes, "Anything you want."

"Anything?" Blaine echoed, rolling onto his side to face Kurt more fully. His eyes flitted down to Kurt's mouth.

"Anything." Kurt scooted in a little closer.

There was a knock at the door.

Kurt groaned and rolled onto his back, "What?"

David poked his head in, "Trip and I are gonna run to Target, you guys wanna come?"

"No, but that sounds very domestic," Kurt raised his voice loud enough to ensure it carried out to the family room.

Trip's laugh answered him, "Fuck you."

Kurt snorted and turned his attention back to David, "Go on without us, but if I gave you some money would you pick up a humidifier for me?"

Blaine stilled Kurt's shoulder when he tried to sit up to fetch his wallet, "Kurt, you don't need to get—"

"Don't be silly," Kurt shrugged Blaine's hand away, "It'll be good for your nose and good for my skin in the winter. It's a smart purchase."

David took the folded wad of cash and tucked it into his pocket, "Anything else?"

"Look for a really awful rom-com or one of those John Hughes movies. Will that be up to your crusting day standards, Blaine?"

Blaine laughed, "Sounds perfect."

"Who's John Hughes?" David blinked.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Ask Trip, he'll know."

"Right, see ya in a bit," David disappeared, leaving the door open a crack.

Kurt and Blaine lay in silence, both grinning at one another as they listened to the conversation outside the door.

"—You're gonna try and wear those out?"

"—Don't have anything but my uniform—"

"They'll fall off—"

"—Got something to look forward to—"

There was a short round of laughter and then the front door was closed.

Kurt laughed, shook his head, "Who would have thought that those two would end up together?"

"I dunno, it kind of makes sense…" Blaine yawned.

"Are you getting sleepy on me again?" Kurt pouted.

"A little." Blaine confessed, smiling ruefully.

"Fine. Power nap and then birthday gifts." Kurt lay back down beside Blaine, his feet dangling off the side of the bed.

"It's neither one of our birthdays." Blaine smiled.

"Yours is coming up," Kurt prodded Blaine lightly in his side, "And it's a birthday and maybe I want to give out presents."

Blaine cracked an eye back open, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, now take your nap." Kurt huffed.

"I'm not tired anymore."

"You are, too, you're going to fall asleep mid-blowjob and then I'll just be upset and I'll develop a complex about my oral capabilities."

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with your 'oral capabilities' as you so aptly put it," Blaine smiled, though his eyes were drooping shut again, "…I cannot think of a single time where I've felt the need to voice a complaint about your mouth other then when it gets too far away from me."

Kurt snuggled in closer to Blaine's side; draped an arm across his chest. He pressed a kiss to Blaine's neck, "Is this a satisfactory level of proximity?"

Blaine hummed, "For now."

"So needy." Kurt sighed.

"M'not needy, I jus' have—" Blaine yawned, "—needs."

"What's the difference?" Kurt smiled Blaine's neck.

"There's a big difference." Blaine mumbled.

"Sure there is," Kurt laughed quietly and groped until he found the comforter. He pulled it up over Blaine and tilted his head up to kiss Blaine's cheek.

"Mm," Blaine draped an arm across his own chest, "You said you'd scratch my arms for me."

"Like I said, needy," Kurt let out a loud sigh, but shifted around until he could slide his nails lightly up and down Blaine's arm, "Good?"

Blaine sighed contentedly, "So good…better than sex good."

"That's blasphemous."

A shadow of a smile turned up the corners of Blaine's mouth, but he was already asleep.

Kurt continued the slow drag of his fingers up and down Blaine's arm. He closed his eyes and inhaled the clean smell of Blaine right below his nose and felt his own body relax and start to drift.

Kurt didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the sound of a door slamming startled him awake.

"Trip, come on, I didn't mean for it to happen—"

"Forget it, Dave, it's fine."

Kurt frowned.

"No, I get why you're upset, but—"

"I'm not."

Kurt startled a little when Blaine spoke, "Are you listening to them?"

Kurt pushed himself up on an elbow; nodded, "…I think they're fighting."

Blaine sat up, too, his eyes on the small gap between the door and doorframe, "…we should go out there; act as moderators."

"What would we even moderate? We don't even know what happened." Kurt was careful to keep his voice low.

Blaine shrugged and pushed himself up off of the bed, "We can find out."

Kurt followed after him quietly. They stood together in the doorway and peered out into the family room.

Trip was in David's doorway, pulling on his wrinkled Dalton uniform shirt. He stared resolutely at the floor as he buttoned it.

David stood a few feet away, his face twisted with remorse and a Target bag still dangling from his hand, "Trip, please, they caught me off guard, I—"

"It's not a big deal." Trip's voice was flat. He stepped back into David's room and closed the door.

David looked at the wood of the door as though it had hit him in the face.

"What happened?" Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine when he felt him shiver at his side.

David tore his eyes away from the door to face Kurt, "I… We went to the store and we ran into Azimio and a couple guys from Lima—they were visiting some people on campus—and I—we—me and Trip—we were holding hands, but I saw them first so I let go, and I guess I—I wasn't thinking—they saw us and I…I panicked. I totally fucking panicked!"

"Take a breath, Dave, I can't even follow what you're trying to say." Kurt frowned, though his muscles had tensed at even the mention of Azimio's name.

"I panicked and I fucked up," David finally put the bag down and dragged a hand through his hair.

"David," Blaine looked between the closed door and David, his expression suddenly anxious, "what did you do?"

"I went up and talked to them, Z and the guys, I mean—they saw me, I had to," David swallowed, his expression suddenly even more guilt stricken, "Trip stayed back a bit while I talked to them… when the guys asked what I was doing there… I lied. I told them I was living in Cincinnati and I was just home seeing my Dad at a work site and then Z noticed Trip and he asked me if… he asked me who he was and I—fuck, I screwed up so bad; so fucking bad."

"David," Blaine's voice was even more tense, "What did you say?"

David's voice was so quiet, Kurt almost didn't hear him, "I acted like I didn't know him; like I wasn't with him."

"Dave," Kurt gaped at him; his voice quiet with shock, "…what did he do?"

"Trip?" David sank back into the couch; "He walked past us like he was just shopping or something… he waited for me at the doors."

Blaine glared hard at him and opened his mouth to speak, but then Trip was back out of the bedroom, fully dressed in his wrinkled uniform.

David shot to his feet, "What're you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm leaving." Trip looked around the floor until he spotted his shoes underneath the table.

"Trip, please, can we talk about this or something?" David followed him to the table and watched helplessly as Trip pulled a shoe on.

"What's there to talk about?" Trip didn't look at him as he slid on his second shoe, but his fingers shook as he pulled the laces tight.

"I was stupid; really, really stupid. I shouldn't have done what I did and I'm a coward. I swear, if I could change what I did, I would," David sank down to his knees and slid a hand over Trip's shaking fingers, "You know I would."

Trip recoiled from the touch as though he'd been burned. He got to his feet and stared down at David vacantly, "It's none of my business what you do. You don't have any sort of obligation to me, that's never been what this was, right? "

"I—Trip, no," David looked up at him miserably, "I'm taking ownership of this thing. I was a coward and you have every right to be upset over this, but—"

"It's nothing."

"It 's not nothing, I shouldn't have—"

"David," Trip crouched down again until his eyes were level with David's; his voice cool, "This isn't anything because we aren't anything."

When Trip straightened up again; David didn't move. He looked up at Trip as though he'd been slapped, "You don't mean that."

Trip snorted, but he looked away from David; his eyes roving over the apartment quickly, "Where are my keys?"

David slowly pulled himself back to his feet; he spoke again as though he thought maybe Trip hadn't heard him, "Trip, you don't mean that."

"Funny thing is, I do mean it," Trip glared around the apartment, "Seriously, where the fuck are my keys?"

Kurt spied them on the end table beside the couch. Quietly, he moved over and scooped them up, "Right here."

Trip snatched them out of his hand and moved toward the door, but he was met by another obstacle. He stared at David now blocking his path; his expression carefully passive, "I need to go."

"Trip, in the car, on the way to the store, you said you were hap—"

"Move." Trip growled; his expression suddenly hard.

David searched Trip's face; his voice soft, "Don't do this now, Trip. Don't shut me out and act like you don't care. I know you care; I know I hurt you, but I swear we can—"

"David, get the fuck out of my way!" Trip screamed.

It turned into an ugly screaming match. David unyielding in the door and Trip's voice growing louder; his face more and more furious as their words overlapped in a discordant mess of noise.

"I know this is what you do, I know you get upset and you shut down, but if you'd just—"

"So help me God, Karofsky, I'll fucking move you myself."

"God dammit, Trip, if you'd listen long enough to even hear what I'm trying to say—"

"—You don't get to tell me what to fucking do, move before—"

"—I've never felt this way about anyone, and it scares—"

"I just want to get out of here. Why the hell can't you listen? Let me—"

"I love you!"

Trip froze; the words on his lips fading to sudden muteness; his eyes locked on David's.

For a moment, David looked just as mortified as the others; he dropped his gaze for a moment before looking back up at Trip with frightened eyes; his voice quiet, "I love you."

Trip's mouth turned up into a cruel smile, "You don't even know me, David."

"Yes, I do… not… not everything about you, but I know a lot," David held his gaze carefully, "I know you push everyone away so no one can hurt you. I know it scares the hell out of you not to have total control of everything. I know—"

"Most people figure out those cutesy little clichés pretty fast, pal," Trip folded his arms across his chest, his expression still hard.

"I'm not done," David swallowed, "I know you're smart, smarter than most people know and you think about things in ways that I never knew people could think about stuff. I know you have a quirk where you drink a glass of water when you're trying to calm yourself down or figure something out. I know you bite your lip when you're upset and I know you can never keep your hands still. I know you watch Kurt and Blaine like you hate them but at the same time you'd kill to have a fraction of what they have. And ya know what else?"

Trip was glaring at him; silent.

"You stick around. You don't have to, but you do. And you ask me questions and you keep coming back and I think… all of that stuff I know about you? I think you want someone to know those things—you want to pretend that you like to keep your distance, but you want to let me in just as much I want to be let in. You can say it's stupid and act like you don't care, but I mean it when I say I love you and I think… I think you could love me, too, if you let yourself."

Nobody moved. Even Bocelli was silent in his cage.

Trip hesitated for the briefest of seconds; his expression flickering from shock to a split second of something too fast to catch, but then he was glaring again. He drew himself up taller; his voice cracked, "Move."

David remained motionless for a minute; his hands trembling and then, slowly, slowly, he stepped out from in front of the door; his eyes still voicing a silent plea for Trip to stay.

"Trip, can I go with you?" Blaine's voice was soft; his expression carefully neutral, "Please?"

Trip paused, his hand already on the doorknob. He stood quietly for a second; his gaze focused with too much intensity on the white knuckles of his hand. When he nodded after a few seconds; the gesture was almost invisible.

Blaine kept his voice carefully neutral, "Can you give me a minute to change my clothes?"

"I'll wait for you in the car." Trip turned the knob and pushed the door open. He took a step over the threshold, but then glanced back at Kurt, his voice whisper quiet, "Thanks for the party."

Before Kurt could respond, he was gone.

David stared forlornly at the door as though, if he stared at it long enough, Trip would come back.

"I told you not to hurt him." Blaine's voice was suddenly angry. He glared at David.

David didn't respond. He tore his eyes away from the door and sank down into a chair beside the table. He stared at Bocelli miserably.

Blaine turned to look apologetically at Kurt, "He's upset; I don't trust him to be on his own right now. I don't even know if I trust him not to leave the parking lot without me right now."

"Just put your shoes on and go as is, I'll go grab your clothes." Kurt flitted back into his room and folded Blaine's things into a neat pile before returning to the family room where Blaine was sitting on the floor, stuffing his feet into a pair of Sperry's.

Blaine offered a strained smile when Kurt pulled him back to his feet and handed off the pile of clothes, "Thanks. I'll call you later today. Love you."

Kurt touched a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek and watched from the doorway until Blaine stepped into the elevator and disappeared from sight. He closed the door quietly and turned to face another surprise, "David, are you… crying?"

Dave blinked hard, but the red of his eyes and the wet tracks already staining his cheeks were undeniable. He dropped his face into his hands.

Kurt stood for a moment by the door before quietly pulling out the chair beside David and sitting down.

"Kurt, I fucked up so bad." David whimpered. He fisted his hands into his eyes and sniffled.

"Yeah, you did." Kurt sat back in his chair and stared through the gilded bars of the birdcage, "If you were hoping for some pity, I'm not offering any."

"I don't deserve any." David mumbled.

Kurt sighed and pushed himself out of his seat and crossed the apartment to his room. He pulled out the box of little unfolded paper sheets and returned to the family room where David had taken up residence on the couch. Kurt sat down on the floor wordlessly and pulled the lid off the plastic container. He folded three perfect cranes before David spoke.

"When he was sixteen everyone he knew turned their backs on him."

Kurt remained silent; folded another perfect bird.

"And I just did the same thing to him—he opened himself up and I fucking ruined it," David dropped his face into his hands again.

Kurt still said nothing. He folded four more birds.

"How do you and Blaine do it?" David's voice was quiet when he finally spoke again, "How do you not ruin everything?"

"We do out best and hope for the best," Kurt smoothed his finger over an already perfect crease line.

"And what do you do if everything turns to shit?"

Kurt's fingers stilled for a moment, "You hope like crazy that love's enough to get you through… if you believe in a god, then I suppose that's when you start praying."

David was quiet for a minute, "…you think he'll forgive me?"

"That's his decision."

Five cranes later, David spoke again, "…one thousand of those things is supposed to get you a wish, right?"

"That's the idea," Kurt shrugged and wordlessly slid a small stack of unfolded sheets of paper across the floor.

David slid down into the space beside Kurt and took up one of the sheets. He started folding—following Kurt's example slowly.

"You don't believe in God and stuff, right?" David glanced toward Kurt.

"No."

"So do you make wishes on the cranes?"

Kurt set aside another finished one, "I didn't say that."

"Do you wish for things to have gone differently?"

"You can't change what's already done, Dave."

"Do you wish for Blaine to get better?"

Kurt closed his eyes, took a leveling breath, "Wishes and prayers are for people who think that begging pieces of paper and statues and candles they paid five dollars to light are going to somehow magically make things different. They're for people who are desperate and don't know what else to do."

David put down his single finished crane—lopsided and a little crumpled, "What do you do then?"

"What do you mean what do I do?"

"You can't just—" David let out a frustrated grunt; dropped down the crane he had been attempting to fold, "—you can't just hope. That's not—you need to do something."

"That's all you can do," Kurt put down another perfect crane, "… if Trip wants to come back, he will."

"I shouldn't try to talk to him? Fix things?"

"I didn't say that," Kurt twisted around and pulled the abandoned Target bag off of the couch, "What I meant was you do everything you can do, but in the end there are certain decisions you don't get to make, David."

"I hate this," David scrubbed at his eyes, "I fucking hate this."

"…I know." Kurt stood and moved toward the TV, careful not to crush any of the finished birds.

"What're you doing?" David mumbled, looking up at Kurt with a frown.

"We're not going to think about cancer or unrequited feelings or regrets or anything. We're going to sit here, make paper cranes, watch The Breakfast Club, and eat cold pizza for lunch."

"That's your solution to all of this?" David stared at him incredulously.

"That's my way of getting us through the next few hours." Kurt turned his attention to the television, glancing down occasionally as he folded another bird.

David leaned back against the couch; picked up his half-completed crane, "…Then what?"

"Focus on the next two hours, Dave."

David was quiet beside Kurt for another forty-five minutes before he spoke again, "…Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"Two thousand cranes, right?"

"That's right."

David cleared his throat awkwardly, "I know you don't think…would you be pissed if I made a wish anyway?"

"It's stupid, David. They're paper birds," Kurt glanced over at Dave's crestfallen expression and sighed, "… but it's none of my business what you do. You can worship Bocelli if you want, so long as you're not singing or chanting or something to him in the middle of the night, I don't care."

"…What if I made a wish for you and Blaine, too? Then would you care?"

Kurt put down the paper in his hands, "Like I said, you can do what you want."

David turned one of the cranes over between his fingers, "This morning… things were good, right?"

Kurt sighed, "Yes, things were really good."

David turned to face Kurt, "I just…there's probably a lot of stupid shit I'd want to wish for, but…all I really want is for things to be good, not even great or perfect or whatever, just…good."

Kurt turned his gaze back down to the paper in his hands. He finished folding it slowly until a finished, glossy red crane sat perched on his palm, "…I want that, too."