Carpooling never crossed his mind once he settled on his current career path. Now, though, he revels in the days he and Blaine are both called to the same location; when Blaine wakes first and takes Frankie for a walk, then comes home to make breakfast; when Kurt showers first, then Blaine fingers him open with the nonchalant ease of braiding hair; when they jockey for control of the radio and Blaine lets Kurt win, but not without lording self-professed kindness over him; when they treat work like a challenge and foreplay all at once; when they fuck in the car halfway between work and home; when Kurt forgets what life was before Blaine.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he waits for the other shoe to drop. For himself or Blaine to wake up and realize they've moved too fast, or for this entire life to have been a dream. Sex is fun and Kurt is fantastic at it, but Blaine's the first man who has ever wanted him for more than that. He holds Kurt's hand just happy to be near him, willingly attends weekly dinners with Kurt's friends – including Santana, talks his mother's ear off about Kurt's cooking, runs Kurt a bath at the end of long days – whether it be a day spent beach bumming under the hot sun or shopping with Mercedes like they'd done since high school but with a much larger budget or being fucked into a wall by a pair of old bears. Blaine loves Kurt, and Kurt is learning how to pick up on the small gestures Blaine offers alongside the words themselves.

It's the cup of coffee made to Kurt's standards served as part of breakfast in bed. It's the growing pile of dog toys and the countless hours Blaine devotes to playing fetch with Frankie in the backyard. It's the grocery list plucked off the fridge without Kurt even asking, the soap refilled in the dispenser just as it lows to empty, the hair that collects on the floor when Blaine shaves being swept away right when he's done, even the fact that Blaine bought that dildo replica of Kurt's penis and insists on displaying in the living room, a fact which bounces back and forth between creepy and sweet. It's all the little ways Blaine's life has been slowly weaving itself into Kurt's.

Blaine wants this as much as Kurt does.

In the seven month span of their relationship, Kurt has adapted to the thought of a shared future, of ours and we and us influencing his decisions from now on. They never talked much about it, but one day Blaine and his overused overnight bag simply stopped making the trip back to his bachelor pad, and then Kurt had a house full of things that weren't only his and a home to call theirs.

:: ::

Today has been tiring to say the least. Kurt was part of a panel at a college discussing the adult film industry and his own involvement. Appearances of this sort aren't his favorite – academic events aren't nearly as much fun as fan-oriented events or award shows, but generally collegiate audiences are politely inquisitive, letting curiosity lead them without letting it run rampant. For the first twenty or so minutes the panel flowed smoothly as they often do – Kurt and the other four guest speakers introduced themselves briefly and opened themselves to the floor, getting typical questions about their true sexualities and how they got into the business – and then came Jordan, the graduate student who did his research before showing up and turned all attention to Kurt.

Kurt felt like he had a bull's-eye on his forehead.

“I have a few questions, if I may,” Jordan began, staring at Kurt. Kurt had smiled and invited the man to ask away. With a nod from the moderator, Jordan continued, mentioning facts about Kurt's life Kurt certainly wasn't expecting to hear and leading with a question about how it was to grow up in Ohio.

“You writing my biography?” he joked, to short laughter from the crowd. “Uh, well, it wasn't great honestly. I was bullied starting in elementary school – for seeming gay. By the time I finished high school it was full blown tormenting – for being gay, but by then I'd also made a great group of friends and it didn't feel nearly as bad as it probably was in reality.”

“Wasn't your father a state senator?”

“Still is.” Kurt had intended for that to be his final answer on the subject, but Jordan pushed, citing correspondence between the success of Kurt's first major film, Sweet Porcelain, and the downturn of his father's popularity in office.

“Why did you choose not to use a stage name, considering your father is in the public eye? Has this… career choice… affected your relationship? He's never commented more than to say your choices are yours and that he won't make further comment; is he supportive?”

“This is all oddly personal.”

“You said you were an open book.”

“Mmm.” He had said that. When he was expecting the most invasive inquiry to be from a bold young soul curious about his medical history or what he thinks about to keep it up for so long on camera.

The moderator stepped in, concerned by Kurt's ongoing silence. “You don't have to answer anything you're uncomfortable with.”

“It doesn't make me uncomfortable. Not like you're assuming,” Kurt said with a quick look to the woman. Looking back to Jordan, he spoke calmly despite the fire in his eyes. “My father and I were very close when I was young. The death of my mother, which I'm sure is noted in that neat little stack of papers you have, really brought us together. No, he does not support my career. Yes, my choices are mine. Yes, I am forthcoming about details of my intimate life nine times out of ten. No, that precedent does not grant you unrestricted access.

“I don't have the shame about working in this industry as you seem to be looking for. I didn't get into porn because my dad fucked up somewhere along the way; it happened because I accompanied my friend to a modeling audition that turned out to be a little more clothes-off than anticipated and an interest sparked. There's nothing wrong with liking sex and getting paid for it legally, as far as I'm concerned, so what reason would I have had to change my name?

“My father's career – hell, anyone's career – shouldn't hinge on the actions of others, but his own. He's a good guy, my dad. He cares about what he does and the people he represents. If you're looking for a reason to attack him using me, it's not going to happen. I love my father. I respect him. How he feels about what I do is irrelevant to that fact. You won't be getting any attention trying to sensationalize our relationship.”

“That wasn't my intention.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Well then, I apologize. It must have been the meticulous detailing of my past, the spotlight on my father, and the derision in your tone that threw me.”

Jordan sat down looking subdued though a bit satisfied, and the next forty-five minutes ticked by quickly once the discussion returned to its intended focus. Sam and Mercedes, who'd been in the audience, met him as he left the stage with the other speakers.

Sam led with, “That was awkward,” and Mercedes shushed him, but Kurt's been well used to Sam for years. “Yes, it was,” Kurt agreed.

The three friends caught a late lunch together, then parted ways. The longer Kurt sat in traffic, the more he trembled with the need to be home alone and drowning in his warm, soft bed.

:: ::

“I think I fucked up,” he admits when Blaine finds him swathed in their blankets like a newborn. Blaine's peels back the covers and Kurt smiles sheepishly and sleepily, face smushed into Blaine's pillow and groaning at the sunlight. He gets a kiss to the forehead before Blaine is hopping off the bed and moving where Kurt can't see him. Kurt can hear a drawer opening and clothes being tossed on the bed.

“You wanna talk about it?” Blaine asks when Kurt doesn't continue.

“No,” Kurt stubbornly asserts. He really doesn't want to talk about it. Not until he's sufficiently combed through everything he'd said to an audience earlier, determined how bad it was or if it was bad at all, and figured out how to tell his dad.

“Not that I want to interrupt your wallowing, but if you can spare me a second… yes bowtie? Or no bowtie?” Blaine questions, kneeling on the bed so he's in Kurt's eye line.

“Where are you going?”

“Dinner at Cooper's,” he says slowly, as though it should be obvious.

“Oh.” Kurt definitely forgot about that. When he came home, he'd slipped right into bed. He'd seen Blaine's car in the driveway, but neither the man himself nor Frankie and figured they were on an afternoon walk. He'd nodded off, completely forgetting their plans with Cooper. “You're going without me?”

“It kinda seems like you want to be alone, Kurt.”

“You could have said something,” he insists, though he makes no effort to move.

“Would you like to get up and get dressed so we can go eat with my brother and his house full of children? Because all of them are there.”

Kurt pulls a face and Blaine smirks.

“No thanks.” Cooper is tad… eccentric, and his “children” are hardly that, seeing as all five of them are older than Kurt by at least three years, and just as cracked as their father. He loves them all, he really does, but they're too much to take on after an exhausting day. He lifts his head to get a better look at Blaine's outfit, then flops back down. “No bowtie,” he drowsily tells Blaine and buries himself comfortably under the covers.

“Okay,” Blaine smiles, backing off the mattress. “I'll see you when I get home.”

:: ::

He wakes up after Blaine has gotten home and gone to sleep. It's midnight and all he can think about is calling his father, getting it out of the way. Thinking they'll be no answer when it's even later, he dials his father's number, regretting it when Burt picks up instead of the answering machine. Getting past the shock and steeling himself for his dad's reaction, he shares what happened at the panel twelve hours ago. Burt is quiet through the tale, a silence which Kurt feels very familiar with though they haven't spoken in months. But Blaine is nuzzling into a pillow less than a foot away and Kurt draws comfort from that calming presence. Regardless of what his father says, at least it can't touch them.

The call is just a courtesy, a warning in case it does make its way around, especially considering November elections are weeks away and Burt had barely scraped by in the primaries. It's hard to believe in the last six years that their relationship has devolved from one of trust and reliance to this inability and lack of desire to communicate at all.

“Jesus Kurt,” his father huffs. “This is the exact kind of crap I don't need at the exact time I don't need it.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't say anything bad, I just –”

“You agreed to say nothing.”

“I'm sorry.” He runs a hand through Blaine's unkempt curls, gentle reassurance that the world hasn't ended because his father is disappointed in him again. “I just wanted you to know.”

There's silence that stretches into a new realm of uncomfortable. Without being able to see his father's face, he's not sure if it's more the disappointment or the anger keeping him quiet this time. It's a little guessing game he occupies himself with when their phone calls get like this.

“Don't come home again, Kurt.”

“What?” It's little more than a puff of air but it's the best he can do when it hurts like he's been impaled with a blunt object.

“Not until your life is sorted. Not until you're ready to be someone I can be proud of again. Dammit Kurt, you're just… not the man I hoped you'd be.”

“I –” He wants to protest, to tell his dad that his life is sorted, that Burt can be proud of him just as he is, that Burt isn't exactly someone Kurt's proud of right now, but the fight is gone. “Bye, Dad.”

He doesn't even bother ending the call as the phone slips from his hand, trusting his dad will have already hung up. It gets tangled somewhere in their sheets when Kurt slides his body toward Blaine and prods at the sleeping man until his arms are wrapped securely around Kurt.

Kurt matches his breathing to Blaine's and tries hard to fall asleep. It takes longer than usual with his mind screaming obscenities at his father. And at himself. He has to push away the thought of quitting and finding a new career path just to have his father love him again; sure, his father would be happy, but he'd never forgive himself for giving in to the bully Burt has become.

Blaine sniffles in his sleep and snuggles in tighter and Kurt is grateful for the one thing in his life that works, because that one thing is everything. Blaine is a welcome intrusion to every aspect of Kurt's life. Even when they fight about Blaine's insecurities in getting older and his subsequent fear of losing Kurt or clash over Kurt's perfectionist habits and occasional holier-than-thou attitude, Kurt never loses the sense of sureness that they'll persevere, that they'll overcome anything that tries to get in their way – including themselves.

Blaine loves Kurt, and Kurt is learning how to accept that it comes without conditions.