In the morning when you wake up
I like to believe you are thinking of me
And when the sun comes through your window
I like to believe youve been dreaming of me

Dreaming

            Rachel was mad. No, Rachel was furious. “You told him, Kurt!” she shrieked, hands in the air and cheeks flushed bright red with anger. “You fucking told him!”

            Kurt crossed his arms, following her across the hall and back into her apartment. “Rachel, for the millionth time, I told Blaine and Christian just happened to walk in at the wrong second. I'm sorry, alright? I know I shouldn't have even told Blaine.”

            She stomped into the kitchen and slammed an open cupboard door. Christian stood up from his perch on the couch, clearly alarmed. “But you did! SANTANA!”

            Santana emerged from her bedroom, popping her head around the door with an exasperated expression. “What the fuck do you want now, moody pants?”

            Rachel was livid, steam practically bursting from her ears. “You left the damn thing wide open again. You know, I'm starting to think both you and Kurt are out to ruin my life,” she snarled, parading back into the living room and plopping defiantly down onto the couch.

            Christian dutifully began rubbing her back. “Take a deep breath, honey. They're just trying to help.”

            Rachel pushed him off of her. “Oh, yes, because revealing all of my secrets and leaving all the fucking doors in the entire apartment open are certainly effective ways of helping me!” she spat.

            Kurt glanced at Santana, who looked just as done as he felt. “Okay, well, when you get over this hormone fest, don't call me,” he snapped. It'd been a long couple days with Rachel on his heels, pitching yet another fit about Christian and what a horrible friend he was being. Kurt was over it. And this was only a few weeks into her pregnancy. He felt bad for Christian, to say the least.

            He dug his phone out of his pocket once in the deserted hallway and pulled up Blaine's number. Are you busy? Rachel's pissed at me and I need to get out of here. –K.

            Anticipating a positive reply, Kurt returned to his apartment and dug his coat out of the closet. Blaine's response came a moment later.No, I'm not busy. What did you do to summon the wrath of Rachel onto you? –B.

            He sighed audibly, choosing the short version. It's my fault Christian found out. Can I come over? I'm afraid she might try to shave my head. –K.

            Yeah, yeah sure. My house is a mess, you have been warned. –B.

            Kurt smiled fondly down at his phone before hurrying down the stairs. I'll be right over. –K.

            Kurt knocked on Blaine's door, shaking the remaining snowflakes from his shoulders and wiping his slush-caked boots on the mat. Blaine threw it open, stooping in a wildly ridiculous welcoming gesture, and stepping aside to let Kurt in.

            He grinned, striding into the foyer and removing his coat. Kurt drew Blaine to his chest, burying his nose in the still-wet gel-free curls that hung loosely from his head. The familiar scent of evergreen shampoo and air freshener soothed the weight of stress from his mind. “Thanks for letting me come over. I really needed a break from all the Berry drama.”

            Blaine nuzzled his nose into his neck, winding his arms around Kurt's waist. “You're always welcome here, you know that,” he replied.

            Kurt bent back to kiss his cheek gently. “Mmm. You smell good.”

            He ducked his head, half-giggling as he grabbed Kurt's hand and tugged him towards the worn sofa. “I just had a shower.” He dropped down onto the cushion, dragging Kurt down with him. “So, catch me up on all this Berry drama. Christian never came home, so I've been on the outs.”

            “Oh, god,” Kurt groaned, raking his fingers through his hair and resisting the urge to pull it all out. “She was so pissed off at me for telling Christian, even though I didn't tell him, I told you, but she doesn't listen. She just lies on the couch and cries and Christian tends to her every need like a faithful little puppy. He's so sweet, that one. I'm glad he was the one taking care of you.” He was treading on eggshells, and not very delicately. Blaine's dark days had been an avoided topic since they'd started dating again.

            Blaine ran his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand distractedly. “That sounds horrifying. But yes. Christian's a good guy,” he remarked carefully.

            Kurt leaned into Blaine's shoulder. “Can we watch a movie? I need a distraction.”

            Blaine nodded, jumping up and pressing a soft kiss to Kurt's forehead before crawling towards the stack of movie cases beside the television. “Any ideas?”

            “You pick,” he answered with a shrug. The movie wasn't what he aiming for to distract him anyway.

            “I picked last time,” Blaine argued with a whine.

            “Let's do Star Wars. I know how much you love it. And it's great background noise for when we make-out.” Kurt stifled a smirk at the way Blaine's posture stiffened as he turned to grin coyly.

            “You sly dog.”

            Kurt pointed to himself, feigning innocence. “Me? A dog? Hey, I'm not the one with a weird fetish for licking my cheek.”

            Blaine gasped in mock horror, amusement twinkling in his hazel eyes. “How dare you.”

            “Oh, just get over here, dork,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

            He slipped the DVD into the player and scurried back to the couch. “Hi,” he squeaked.

            Kurt snorted, prying Blaine's hand from his knee and lacing their fingers together. “Hi.”

            As the previews flashed across the screen, Blaine slowly lowered his head onto Kurt's shoulder, exhaling contentedly. “I always hated these opening credits. They're so damn long. Can we get to Ewan McGregor's face, please?”

            Blaine chuckled lightly, snuggling closer. “I think they're cool. But yes, I wouldn't object to his face.”

            “I like your face better.” Kurt propped his legs across Blaine's lap, and shivering at the warmth of Blaine's palms sliding across his calves.

            “Of course, just like I like your face better.”

            Kurt cocked an eyebrow, shifting not-so-subtly closer and blinking up at him through long lashes. “Oh, do you now?” he asked playfully.

            “Yeah, I do.” Kurt suddenly became all too aware of the path Blaine's fingers followed up to his knee, sucking in a sharp breath. “Besides, Ewan looks vaguely like Christian and it messes with my head.”

            Kurt laughed. “Ew. Now every time I fantasize about Ewan, I'll think of Christian,” he said distastefully.

            “You're welcome,” Blaine scoffed, wrinkling his nose.

            “Guess I'll just have to fantasize about you now,” Kurt announced nonchalantly, turning his head almost robotically back to the T.V.

            Blaine swatted his knee. “Such a hardship; you have to fantasize about your boyfriend.”

            “Mmm, boyfriend. We're boyfriends,” Kurt declared, rolling the word along his tongue.

            “Yes, we are.”

            “I love saying that. It means I can kiss you whenever I want.” Kurt's gaze flickered down to Blaine's lips, dropping to the movement of his Adam's apple when he hummed in agreement.

            “Yeah. It does.”

            Kurt made a desperate sort of noise in the back of his throat, fisting his hands in the hem of Blaine's t-shirt and pulling him in so they were an inch apart. “I'm going to kiss you now,” he whispered.

            Blaine croaked, his hand falling to rest against Kurt's chest. “I—okay. Yes. Yeah. Yes. Please.”

            Kurt loved the hungry look that graced across Blaine's features during the short moment before their lips met. His stomach swooped and his heart fluttered; it was so incredibly cliché that Kurt thought he was in a clearance aisle romance novel for a second.

            Blaine tilted Kurt's head back, cupping his jaw and adjusting them so Kurt was flat on his back while Blaine straddled his hips. The movie was drowned out by their labored breathing and the rustle of fabric on fabric. Though the desire for air burned like liquid fire in Kurt's chest, he couldn't seem to tear himself away from the sweet velvet of Blaine's lips.

            He flattened his palm against the bare, heated skin of Blaine's abdomen and began to urge the shirt up. Kurt broke apart long enough to yank it over Blaine's head and toss it to the floor. His body was more toned, more grown up, than Kurt remembered it. There was a small patch of dark, downy hair woven across his chest and smattered across the defined v that dipped into his briefs.

            Kurt cleared his throat. “Is this okay?”

            “So, so okay,” Blaine said without hesitation. He dropped to kiss wetly along Kurt's neck and Kurt moaned unabashedly through clenched teeth. “Can I?” he wanted to know, driving Kurt's sweater up his belly impatiently.

            “God yes.” Kurt tangled his fingers in Blaine's damp hair as Blaine pressed a kiss to each spot of Kurt's collarbone and down his sternum feverishly. His grip on Kurt's waist grounded him when he felt so close to drowning in arousal, the delicious swipe of Blaine's tongue making him crazy.

            And then Blaine's hips swiveled, scraping along the front of Kurt's jeans, and he jerked back. “S-stop,” he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as the images came flooding back. No, no, no. An urgent hand fumbling at his belt, his limbs pinned like dead weight to a piss-smelling mattress. Dirty whore. I know you want it.

            Blaine sat up, eyes wide in confusion. “What did I do?”

            Kurt's throat was dry, and his mouth tasted like cotton. “No, it wasn't you. I just—“ He covered his face with his sweaty hands, defeated. He'd gone and fucked it all up again. God, couldn't he do anything right? Blaine didn't love him. No, he couldn't. Kurt was tainted, spoiled, rotten. Trash.

            Blaine peeled his hands away, kissing his palm sweetly. “Hey, I'm sorry. We don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'm sorry.”

            No. This was Blaine. Blaine wasn't like Cecil. Blaine was gentle and genuine and he loved him. Kurt shook his head. “I want to. I want to try. But just…slow,” he murmured. He could do it, for Blaine if not for the withering shell of himself.

            “Are you sure?”

            Kurt smiled wearily, pulling Blaine back down to kiss him chastely. “Yes. I want you.”

            Blaine's hand returned to his place on Kurt's chest. “Only if you're sure. I don't want to pressure you. No pun intended.”

            Kurt chuckled. “You're not pressuring me. At all. I want to be with you more than anything. I'm just scared of what it'll trigger. God, Blaine, I'm scared of how damaged I really am.” The moment the words left his lips, Kurt regretted it. He was just a terrified, worthless little boy again, curled up alone in the hallway. He was so stupid and weak.

            “You're not damaged. Never.”          

            Kurt's eyes stung. He wanted so badly to believe Blaine. He dragged the back of his hand across his cheeks, sniffling pathetically.

            “We'll go slowly, and careful, and together.”

            Kurt smiled. “Just like it used to be.”

            “Just like it used to be.”

            “Well, that was…that was incredible.” Kurt's hair hung in a sweaty mop across his forehead and every inch of his body felt spent. He sighed happily, squeezing Blaine's hand lovingly and looking up at him from his perch on Blaine's chest.

            “Incredible doesn't begin to describe it.”

            “Let's do that forever.”

            “Please. Yes.”

            Kurt closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of Blaine's beating heart. “I love you.”

            “I love you, too.” Blaine's stomach grumbled loudly, throwing them both into a fit of giggles.     

            Kurt sat up, picking up Blaine's crumpled tee and tossing it over his head. “Let's make food,” he said, winking coyly over his shoulder as he sauntered into the kitchen. “And then round two.”