Kurt and Blaine looked up automatically to see what Carole was shouting about. Kurt’s eyes widened in horror as he recognized the Chevy Silverado circa 1980 with the familiar HT&L logo. Carole looked over at the two boys, Kurt horror-struck, Blaine’s face registering first that an expression of confusion, and next comprehension as a man who somewhat resembled Kurt stepped out of the vehicle. “Fuck--,” Carole said, blushing at her own cursing. She moved quickly, rousing the two from their state of shock, she nudged them both, “Blaine. Go. Move. Get back in Kurt’s room.” Blaine stood, but Kurt grabbed his hand to stop him, “Wait---” Kurt made a snap decision, “Don’t--don’t go to my room. Go upstairs. First door on the right. You fit right under the bed.” Blaine didn’t even stop to question how Kurt would know that, just scrambled for the stairs, he dove under the bed as quietly as he could right as he heard the front door opening.

Carole threw the third plate in the pantry just before Burt rounded the corner, “Hey sweetie,” she called. Burt smiled tightly, “G’d afternoon,” he pecked Carole lightly on the lips, “Hey buddy,” he squeezed Kurt’s shoulder softly. “Hey Dad,” Kurt said in response. Burt walked to the fridge and dug out lettuce and tomatoes, “So what’re you two up to this afternoon?” Kurt shrugged, ignoring the slight soreness it irritated. Carole sat down between Kurt and Burt, “Well Kurt and I were thinking of getting coffee later,” she supplied easily. Burt lifted an eyebrow, “Don’t you have to work?” Carole shrugged, “I took the afternoon off.” Burt nodded, “Well in that case I could take a half day too, and maybe we could do something. Drive up to Columbus and go eat at that Italian restaurant you like so much, Kurt.” It took all of Kurt’s strength to keep his eyes from bugging out at the suggestion, but luckily Carole came to his rescue. She giggled lightly and put her hand on Burt’s arm---a quiet ‘do not dispute me’ gesture, “Oh no Burt honey, I was thinking we could go to that salon after, my hair is looking positively dreadful, and we wouldn’t be talking about anything you’d be interested in, you go ahead and go back to work.” Burt wanted to argue, but he could see it in Carole’s expression, there would be no arguing. So he shrugged, stood up, scrubbed off his plate and left with a quick goodbye to everyone.

As soon as the door banged shut, Blaine let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and slowly began to crawl out from under the bed. He heard footsteps on the stairs and just as he was righting himself, Kurt walked into the room, “Hey dad’s---oh you heard.” Blaine nods and stands there a little awkwardly for a moment as a thought crosses his mind, I’ve seen that naked. I’ve had his cock up my---Shit don’t! Don’t go there! Nope! Um---dead kittens. Fuck. Um. Wes in a tutu--uh! Blaine’s internal monologue was interrupted by Kurt waving a hand in front of his face, “Blaine? Earth to Blaine?” Blaine shook his head to clear it, “Yeah?” Kurt quirked up the corner of his mouth, “I was asking if you wanted to get coffee? Carole told my dad we were going to, and she said we might as well have an alibi.” Blaine raised an eyebrow, “She told him, we were?” Kurt rolled his eyes, “We, meaning Carole and I. Which will technically be the truth, just plus you. Come on,” Kurt beckoned, heading for the door. Blaine followed and at the top of the stairs, Kurt paused, “Um, you should go ahead, stairs are still kind of tough.” Blaine didn’t comment, just continued on down.

At the foot of the stairs, Blaine looked back to see Kurt was only about five steps from the top, and each one caused him to wince in pain. Blaine gasps aloud, “Jesus Kurt--what happened to you?” Kurt caught Blaine’s horrified glance and tried to shake it off, “I’m fine B, just a little---out of practice.” Blaine raised his eyebrow skeptically, “You want some help?” Kurt shook his head vehemently, and Blaine shared a look with Carole who had come in to see what Blaine’s exclamation had been about. Kurt made it about three more steps (not even half way down the steps) before he looked like he was about to scream, “Fuck it--sorry Carole--damn--fuck! Sorry!--Grilled-Flipping-Cheesus--help me please Blaine,” Kurt gritted out between clenched teeth. Blaine silently made his way up the stairs, skipping two or three at a time, before reaching Kurt and slipping an arm around his waist, easily supporting most of his weight. Once at the bottom of the steps, Blaine gently deposited Kurt on the couch and Carole looked at him concernedly, “Maybe we should skip the coffee. Do you want your meds?” Kurt shook his head, “No, I’m fine---” he shifted uncomfortably, “How about we just have coffee here?” Carole grinned and nodded, “I’ll go get it started, why don’t you boys turn on Project Runway?”

A couple minutes later everyone had a coffee mug and were situated comfortably in the family room. The silence was odd for a moment, despite the background noise of the TV, until finally Carole said, “So, um---Kurt--don’t you think maybe you should tell Blaine?” Kurt raised an eyebrow, “Tell Blaine, what?” Carole sipped her coffee, “What happened to you? It sounded like you hadn’t really explained the extent of your injuries.” Kurt sighed, leaning forward to place his mug on the coffee table, “Yes. Well...yeah,” he turned to face Blaine full on, “I don’t know if I can. But I can try.” Kurt shut his eyes tightly, gathering himself for a moment, “I....have to tell you the whole night don’t I?” Kurt opened his eyes to watch Blaine nod mutely.

~~~Flashback~~~~

Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand, giggling at some crazy remark Blaine had made about the movie. They really needed to hurry if they wanted to make curfew, even though it had been extended, so Blaine began to tug insistently on Kurt’s hand, laughing at the beautiful look on Kurt’s face, taking a moment to stop and think, I am so in love with you, “Come on, baby, we need to get going,” Blaine tried to be serious, but he was smiling too hard. Kurt shook his head, “No, come on, we’ve still got twenty minutes, let’s just take our time, the car is like thirty feet away. It’s not everyday I get to be with my gorgeous boyfriend.” Blaine blushed at the comment, trying to deflect, “No? Well it’s not everyday I get killed by my handsome boyfriend’s father, but I’d rather not have that happen. Come on baby---” Kurt shut him up with a kiss, it was a short one really. More of a peck of the lips than anything.

But then they were being harshly yanked apart, dragged backwards into an alley just around the corner from the theater. Kurt called out in surprise, then Blaine in fear, until hands, large, beefy, foul-smelling, hands were covering their mouths. A harsh gruff voice, “Quiet faggots.” Blaine’s eyes widened at the sight of his boyfriend being attacked by the men, never mind the three that were holding him. He made the transition from, lovestruck-boyfriend, to terrified victim, to overprotective-to-the-point-of-being-deadly in about three seconds. He was fighting against his captors with a vengeance, making as much noise as he could with the hand covering his mouth. When a hand struck Kurt’s face, he became louder, angrier. Until there was the voice again, “Oh, didn’t like that did we gel-boy? Well faggot, if you don’t want to see Fairy here hurt, you’ll shut it.” Blaine immediately went quiet, but did not still, and then he felt something cold and hard strike the back of his head, and the hands released him. He fell to the ground in a heap, then winced as Kurt was thrown on top of him.

They scrambled to move, not standing, but staying as close together as possible, back to back, clasping hands. They could see faces, but only barely. There were at least five guys, a black one, and one that looked vaguely Filipino, who had been holding Blaine back. A white, heavily muscled man, who resembled Big Show, who had been doing the speaking (and they assumed the striking). And close to Kurt were a short but menacing appearing man with close cropped black hair, and a tall lanky guy with the build of an athlete, who had been holding Kurt.

Big-Show-Esque-Guy grunted with a laugh, “Aw-look ain’t that sweet boys? Faggot and Fairy wanna protect each other?” The men chuckled in response and Kurt felt his stomach churn with unease, this was not going anywhere good. As the laughter died down, Blaine saw what had been used to strike him, a silver pipe, gleaming in the harsh glare of a street lamp. Blaine felt his stomach drop as Big-Show-Esque-Guy twirled the pipe, “Hate to break it to you twinks though, you can’t protect each other now.” Blaine flinched as he saw the pipe being swung, heard the sickening crack, but never felt the pain. As he heard Kurt’s cry---beautiful even in expression of pain---Blaine felt sick, realizing it had hit Kurt, “Kurt--no!!” Blaine started to launch himself at the man, only to be grabbed by Filipino-dude, “Ah-ah-ah! Mustn’t do that faggot!” Blaine struggled against the hold, only to be held tighter, then punched by another person. Blaine spit blood and was thrown to the ground by Kurt, who was gasping in pain. Blaine tried to calm him, tried to take away his pain, but he couldn’t.

He met the eyes of Big-Show-Esque-Guy, glaring at him furiously, “How dare you?!” The men around him chuckled darkly and the man replied, “How dare I?! How dare I?! How dare you! How dare you sit there and rub your faggy-ness in our faces! How dare you commit such sins! It’s wrong and immoral! And you need to be taught a lesson!” Blaine spit at him in disgust, which angered the men. Big-Show-Esque-Guy said, “Why you disgusting little homo! Mother-fucker! Oops, I mean, Father-fucker! How dare you get your faggot spit on my shoes! Rob?” The man demanded of the lanky-athlete’s build man, “Why don’t you show Faggot here what happens for such actions?” Without a word Rob stepped forward, placed a foot on Kurt’s arm where it was sprawled. In a flash of a second, before Blaine could even move to stop it from happening, there was a sickening crunch as Rob broke Kurt’s arm. Kurt screamed and Blaine growled, launching himself across Kurt’s body and clawing at the man’s leg as he withdrew. Big-Show-Esque-Man clucked his tongue, “Tut-tut-tut Faggot. You shouldn’t have done that. Now we have to teach you another lesson.”

It continued like that.
Until Blaine was almost sure Kurt didn’t have a whole rib left in his body.
Each of the men had blood under Blaine’s nails, as he had grabbed at them each time they tried to touch Kurt.
Which resulted in more trying to harm Kurt.
Until finally Kurt had blacked out, and to avoid his further harm, Blaine had draped himself over Kurt, covering him as much as he could.
And then came the worst part.
“Shouldn’t do that faggot. Might hurt Fairy’s injuries.” Clucked the short-but-menacing-white-man.
When Blaine didn’t move, the black man nudged his leg roughly, “Yo, faggot, he said move.”
Blaine didn’t budge.
Rob kicked him hard in the side, “Move faggot. Get off.”
Blaine didn’t scoot an inch.
Big-Show-Esque-Guy grunted, “Have it your way. Alberto, you want first crack?”
Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the filipino man step forward and take the pipe.
In a rush of air, Blaine felt the pipe being aimed at his head.
The first impact increased the already steadily flowing blood.
The second made it hard to see.
The third made him so dizzy it was stomach-churning.
After that he kind of lost track.
He went from protecting Kurt, to clinging to him in a matter of swings.
He doesn’t know how long it lasted, but he could feel himself slipping.
But he had to hold on.
For Kurt.
The dizzy, sticky, wetness dripping in his eyes made it hard to see, but he thought he could hear something.
Or someone.
Someone was approaching.
It was okay.
They were okay.
Kurt was safe now.
Blaine blacked out.

~~~~End Flashback~~~

Kurt ended the retelling in tears, unable to continue. Blaine had so many questions, but all he could do was try to comfort Kurt. He started to reach out, but Kurt recoiled. Blaine sat there blankly for a minute, confused as to what had just happened. Kurt had never outwardly refused his touch. Kurt seemed to recognize Blaine’s confusion, because he gasped out, “I---I’m s-sorry...I j-just---n-need a m-minute.” And with that he rose abruptly and made his way to his room.

Blaine turned to Carole in shock and she gave him a watery smile, “He’ll be alright Honey, that’s just the first time he’s had to say it out loud. Just give him a minute.” Blaine quirked his eyebrow in question and Carole patted his knees, “You must have so many questions. Um. Well...I can try to answer them, but just bare with me here, I don’t know if I’ll fair much better than Kurt.” And she launched into her explanation.

For the first few weeks after Kurt’s waking, he hadn’t spoken. He had been physically able to, but emotionally he just wasn’t ready. So he wrote everything down. Including his police statement, hence never having had to say that all out loud. Carole explained the extent of Kurt’s injuries. 20 out of 24 ribs cracked, bruised, or broken completely. His right femur, broken clean in half. His left arm, broken and cracked in multiple places along the radius. His ruptured kidney. The crazy bruising and cuts. Carole even quietly explained Kurt’s demeanor the past several months. How withdrawn he had been. How he had hardly ever eaten. All the small things that had changed about him. Those had been a little hard to explain, seeing as how Blaine didn’t really know Kurt to begin with, just knew they had a history, knew small stories of their history, and knew that he really truly loved Kurt. But Carole talked about how Kurt stopped obsessing over his hair. How his clothes never mattered to him anymore. How skin care had pretty much become a thing of the past. When she finished talking she said quietly, “He’s been so broken without you.”

And a gruff voice from behind them said, “Yeah. We’ve all been.”