Chapter 4:

"I can't do it, you know," Blaine whispered a couple of days later at the end of one of their dates.

His eyes were wide and wet and shining and his bottom lip was quivering ever so slightly. Kurt watched him, waited for him to say more, but he never did. It was almost as if he couldn't say more and so, Kurt let out a breath and took a step closer to show him that it didn't matter, that he got it, that turning Thanksgiving at his house down wasn't going to change anything.

"It's okay," Kurt promised, smiling slowly. "It's okay."

Blaine took his eyes off the TV screen to watch Kurt as he climbed onto the other end of the couch, sketchbook in hand. Blaine couldn't help smiling, watching as he started to draw, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. It took a long time for Kurt to realise Blaine was watching him.

"What?" he asked when he did.

"Just looking," Blaine told him. "What's the deal with this anyway?" He gestured to the sketchbook.

Kurt sat up and frowned, eyes on the sketch. "I give these to Isabelle. I'm probably going to be in paperwork for a long time, so they may as well get used by somebody."

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "But you're so good."

Kurt shrugged one shoulder. "Mr Charlemont hasn't even mentioned moving me up. I don't think he likes me and he needs to be the one to move me on so that I'm working under—or with, I guess—Isabelle. Work my way up and all that."

Blaine reached across and touched Kurt's knee. "You should talk to him about it."

"Yeah," Kurt said with no enthusiasm whatsoever. "Maybe."

He went back to shading in the outfit he had drawn, so Blaine turned his attention back to the TV set, just as the show changed to commercials. He shifted uncomfortably, but didn't make a big deal out of it.

"What's up?" Kurt asked anyway.

"I hate commercials," Blaine said quietly.

Kurt looked up. "Oh, the guy in this one is hot. Remember he was in those credit rating commercials?"

Blaine mumbled quietly.

"You don't think he's hot?"

Blaine shrugged.

"Anyway, I heard he got signed to a movie and a new tv show."

Blaine looked up. "He did?"

Kurt nodded, eyes on his drawing again. "I read it in some newspaper lying around work."

Blaine looked up at the TV just as the commercial ended. "Good for him," he said to no one in particular. "What's the movie?"

"You're awfully interested for someone who doesn't think he's hot."

Blaine looked across at Kurt, who was smirking at him. "I was just thinking about how huge the transition is from toothpaste commercials to Hollywood movies, that's all. I don't think he's hot, he looks kind of...full of himself."

"Well, he does have good teeth, but I guess I can't argue with that." Kurt chuckled and left his things down on the coffee table, before crawling down the couch so that he was closer to Blaine. "Are you watching this?" he asked, gesturing to the TV.

"Are you offering me something better? Then again, what is better than Ultimate Cake Off?"

Kurt raised both eyebrows and positioned himself so that Blaine had no choice but to slide backwards on the couch, Kurt leaning over him, too close, but not quite close enough.

"You were saying?" Kurt said, smiling.

Blaine reached up to wind his arms around Kurt's waist and tug him down on top of him. "I don't remember what I was saying," Blaine admitted, unable to take his eyes off Kurt's lips.

Kurt chuckled again and leaned down to kiss him once. "Thought not," he said. "Rachel's gonna be gone for a few hours, you know. She's making the best of her last day with Brody before we leave for Ohio."

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm," Kurt said. "I wish you could come with me."

Blaine smiled and lifted a hand to Kurt's cheek. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologise. It's perfectly okay and understandable, I just hate the idea of you being by yourself. Do you still have my spare key?"

"I forgot about that." Blaine shuffled and tried to stand up to get the key from his jacket.

Kurt pushed him back down. "No, I don't want it back. I want you to hold onto it. I want you to be able to come here if you feel like it, or if you need to, especially while I'm gone. I know you don't want me over at your place and I stopped taking it personally a little while back, so just...if you want to spend a few days here, then do."

"Kurt, I can't—"

"Please, Blaine."

He looked up and saw the intensity in his eyes, so he sighed and said, "Okay. Thank you."

Kurt's grin was reward enough. "So, Ultimate Cake Off," he said. "Willing to blow it off?"

"I would make so many inappropriate jokes were I not a gentleman," Blaine joked. "But for you? Sure." He paused. "It's not, by the way."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Not what?"

"Not personal," he clarified. "I'd love to have you over, it's just that...I don't want this relationship to be based on pity."

"It isn't," Kurt assured him.

"I know and I'd like it to stay that way," Blaine said.

Kurt nodded and pressed himself closer. "I'll keep out of your business if you think it's for the best," he said.

Blaine smiled gratefully. "Now, I believe you promised me something better than cake," Blaine said, with a smirk.

Kurt let out a breathy laugh and bent down so that his lips were dangerously close to Blaine's, but not quite as close as he would have liked. "Better than cake," he whispered. "How's this?"

Blaine's breath caught when Kurt's crotch collided with his own as he bent to kiss him. Both boys froze and stared at one another, eyes wide, lips parted. Blaine could feel his arousal stirring and if the way Kurt began shaking was any indication, Kurt felt the same. Blaine found himself in a war with himself. On the one hand, he wanted Kurt close like he had never wanted anyone close before, but on the other hand, he didn't want their relationship to be in any way similar to what he did for a living. Kurt looked horrified, but his eyes had darkened and his breath was coming in stutters.

Blaine made a decision then. He reached up and held onto Kurt's hips, then lifted his lower body upwards as he pulled Kurt's down. Kurt let out a louder, shaking breath and his cheeks flushed pink, eyes watching Blaine carefully.

"Are you—"

"Is this—"

They laughed quietly, nervously, then stopped just as suddenly. They didn't move for a good thirty seconds and then Kurt nodded very slowly, so Blaine took it as approval and repeated the motion again. Kurt fell down on top of him, mouths colliding, hips working quickly, frantically, hands tugging at shirt hems and collars. Blaine's heart was beating manically in his chest and he was holding Kurt's body to his own like he was afraid to let go. He could feel the all too familiar coiling in his lower stomach and Kurt was letting out small, desperate, whining sounds against his lips and he was moving his hips expertly, like he had done it a million times before.

"Oh, God, Blaine," Kurt said, voice high and broken and Blaine's hips stuttered and he came first, something he hadn't done willingly in a long time. Kurt tried to stop grinding his hips.

"No, don't stop," Blaine said, feeling his own cheeks flushing. He pulled Kurt's hips down again. "Don't stop."

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to stifle his moans, so Blaine caught his lips in a bruising kiss again and lifted his own body to meet Kurt's and it only took a few more seconds for Kurt's to still and come in his pants. They lay there, Kurt on top of Blaine, bodies slack, breathing laboured and then Kurt pushed himself up and he sat up straight, so Blaine did, too. There was a long, painful silence, within which they avoided eye contact and speech and then finally, Blaine found his voice.

"Was that okay?" he dared to ask. Kurt turned and looked at him, eyes wide and then he was laughing and leaning in to kiss Blaine's lips again.

"Okay?" Kurt asked, still laughing. "I came in my pants like a schoolboy in a strip club, Blaine." His cheeks and the tip of his nose were still pink. "It was more than okay."

Blaine nodded and kissed him back, relieved, but feeling conflicted, because he still worried that it would affect their relationship negatively. Kurt stopped laughing then, but he was still pressed close to Blaine's side. He cleared his throat.

"Was it... Was that okay for you?" he asked, blue eyes dropping.

"They don't...when I'm with...them. They don't care about me...you know, getting off. They never..." Blaine reached across and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His blush had darkened. "I've never felt that close to anyone before," he confessed.

"So it was okay," Kurt said, softly.

"More than okay," Blaine said. "I've never done that with anyone, you know."

Kurt gave him a genuine smile then. "Me, neither," he told him. "I'm glad it was you."

"I'm glad it was you, too," Blaine replied.

Kurt rested his head on Blaine's shoulder and sighed happily.

"Don't you want to clean up?" Blaine enquired.

"Mm hmm," Kurt said. "But not now. I just want to savour this moment for another few minutes," he said.

Blaine didn't answer, because he was a little stunned. Suddenly, all his inhibitions about what had just happened fizzled away into nothingness. He didn't feel the same regret and dread that he so often felt following a sexual act. This was different, this was...something he wouldn't mind getting used to.

"I should get up," Kurt said a while after. "I feel disgusting, but...the complete opposite of disgusting at the same time. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Blaine said. "It makes perfect sense."

And for the first time, it did.

"I hope we don't get burgled while we're gone," Rachel said, as she and Kurt rode the elevator to the ground floor. "I'm leaving some very valuable things behind, you know."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I told Blaine he could hang out here, so I'm sure he'll call if anything seems out of place."

Rachel swung around and squealed. "You're letting him stay at our apartment while we're not here?" she exclaimed. "Kurt! What if he steals something?"

Kurt groaned. "Rachel, he's not going to steal anything."

"He sells his body for money, I'm sure slipping some of my prized jewellery into his pockets isn't going to be a problem."

"I am sick of you talking about him like that," Kurt told her as walked through the now open elevator doors. "You don't hear me complaining about your creepy boyfriend, even when he's traipsing around butt naked while I'm trying to watch Grey's Anatomy. Blaine has never done that."

Rachel huffed and followed him, pulling her luminous pink suitcase behind her. "Blaine traipses around hotel rooms naked with sleazy, old men!"

Kurt quickened his pace, despite the heavy bags he was carrying. She ran to catch up with him.

"Kurt!" she cried.

"I don't want to hear what you have to say," he informed her.

"But Kurt!" she said, breathlessly. "I'm just looking out for you! I'm being honest and if you would just pay attention to what I'm saying—"

Kurt stopped still in the street and turned to face her. She almost fell down as she came to a stop, trying to control her suitcase.

"Since the moment he told you, all you've done is talk crap about Blaine. Okay, he isn't perfect, not in the traditional sense of the word and he's got issues and what he does is far from ideal, but he's still a person and he's still my boyfriend and it hurts him. And you know what, Rachel? It hurts me, too. I've been supportive of whatever this thing is you've got going with that real life Ken doll you like to sneak out in the mornings, despite the fact that you've been ignoring my brother.

"Brody isn't perfect either, Rachel. He may look it, he may even pretend that he is, but he's not. In fact, I would really, really appreciate it if he wore some clothes around the apartment. I don't say anything, because you're my friend and I know you like him. So, please, have the decency to be a little bit open minded about Blaine. He doesn't hurt anyone. He's completely harmless, yet you act like he's out to infect the world with some kind of poison. He makes me happy. I'm the only person he has, Rachel and he worries so much about what I think and he worries about what you think of me because of him. I get that you disapprove of what he does, but please, stop talking about him like he isn't a human being. You don't know what his life has been like, Rachel and you have no right to judge him."

Rachel folded her arms and frowned. "He's a prostitute, Kurt. They aren't good people."

"I don't want to talk to you right now," he told her, then turned around and started walking again. They didn't speak for the entire plane ride home.

Burt Hummel stood in the crowded airport, cap in his hands. The sound of chatter and the tripping noise of suitcase wheels was loud in his ears and he kept turning to look through the arrival gate, waiting for his son to return home. Carole was back home, cooking and preparing for the arrival of their sons.

Out of the corner of his eye, Burt could see Hiram and Leroy Berry nattering away where they sat in the plastic seats, dressed brightly and pristinely. He answered when they spoke to him and smiled politely when necessary, but his mind was elsewhere. It had been elsewhere ever since he had heard about his son's new boyfriend and although he had tried to see it from Kurt's point of view, he struggled, because it was a serious situation that he didn't know how to handle.

"OUR LITTLE STAR!"

"BABY GIRL!"

Burt turned at the sound of the Berry's voices next to him and saw Rachel running towards her fathers, a wide grin on her lips. Behind her, was Kurt, who was struggling with his heavy bags. Burt rushed to give him a hand.

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said, smiling.

"What have you got in this thing?" Burt asked, as the bag dragged him down by the arm. "Don't suppose you brought the new boyfriend and stuffed him in here?" he tried to joke.

Kurt laughed a humourless laugh. "He couldn't make it," he told Burt, despite having told him before. "I can carry that—"

"I've got it," Burt assured him. "Why don't you go say goodbye to Rachel and then we'll get goin'?"

Kurt looked away. "We're not on speaking terms," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Can we just go?"

"Sure," Burt said. "Let's go."

"So, you and Rachel..."

Kurt rolled his eyes at his father's lack of tact. "I don't want to talk about her." Kurt knew that Burt would probably agree with Rachel on the matter and he wasn't in the mood for that kind of discussion just yet.

"Alright," Burt said, following Kurt into the house. Before he could ask any more questions, Carole appeared in the hallway, smiling.

"Kurt! Welcome home," she said, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You look great."

"Thanks, Carole," Kurt said, pulling back to look at his step mother. "You do, too. I love your hair."

She smiled and touched a hand to her head. "Finn is upstairs," she told Kurt. "Come inside and tell me everything!"

An hour later, Kurt, Finn, Burt and Carole were seated around the dinner table having dinner. Finn was sharing a story about backpacking around Georgia, while the others listened and laughed. It was nice being back home with his family, something he missed out in New York. He could, however, feel Burt's eyes flicking to him every so often.

"So, Kurt," Finn said, once he'd finished telling his story. "Mom says you've got a boyfriend."

At that point, Burt choked a little and Carole shot him a glare. Kurt ignored that and looked at his step brother.

"Yes," he replied. "I suppose you're going to lecture me, too."

"Lecture you?" Finn asked, looking bewildered.

"Kurt, he doesn't—"

Kurt spoke over his dad. "As if I don't have to listen to Rachel complaining every five minutes—"

"Kurt—" Burt tried again.

"What's going on?" Finn asked.

"Is this the reason you and Rachel are fighting?" Burt enquired.

"You and Rachel are fighting?" Finn asked.

"Kurt and Rachel are fighting?" Carole asked.

"Rachel is a complete—"

"Language at the dinner table, Kurt," Burt warned.

Kurt let out a long sigh and everyone stopped talking and looked at him.

"What's wrong, Kurt?" Carole asked, finally.

Kurt looked up. "I'm just tired of having to defend myself about this."

"About what?" Finn asked, looking from Kurt, to Burt, to his mom. "What's going on?"

Burt and Carole exchanged a look and Kurt sighed again, then lifted his head to meet Finn's confused gaze.

"My boyfriend is a prostitute," he told him, bluntly. "If you've got a problem with that, kindly keep your thoughts to yourself."

Finn looked concerned, but he didn't say anything, just looked down at his peas. Carole cleared her throat and gave Burt a meaningful glare. Burt turned to Kurt.

"Look, Kurt, you gotta see things from our point of view. What would you say if Finn came home with a girl who did...that for a living?"

Kurt could, of course, see the point Burt was trying to make, but it was different. They didn't know Blaine, didn't understand that he was so easy to fall in love with. Kurt didn't know how to explain that to his family.

"I get what you're trying to say, but you don't understand," Kurt insisted. "He's not what you think."

"Kurt, your dad is just looking out for you," Carole interjected. "We're just concerned that you're being a little bit too...relaxed about the situation."

"Relaxed," Kurt repeated, flatly.

Carole nodded. "Right now, this relationship is new, exciting, but...Kurt, it's so complicated. It won't get easier. The more serious you two get, the harder it's going to be and I don't think you've considered that."

Kurt closed his eyes and shook his head. "Just trust me to handle it," he begged. He lifted his eyes and looked at his dad, Carole and Finn. "I get that you're all looking out for me and trying to help me choose the right path, or whatever, but I am handling it and we're making it work, so please, just trust me. I really care about him. We've got a lot in common and I'm happy. Why can't you understand that?"

Nobody said anything in response, but both Burt and Carole nodded slowly. Then, Burt lifted his head and looked Kurt dead in the eye.

"Are you bein' safe?" he asked.

"Dad, we haven't—"

"I'm not asking what you have and haven't done, Kurt," Burt cut him off. "I just want to know you're bein' safe and that as your relationship progresses, that you're gonna continue to be safe."

Kurt gave in. "Yes, Dad, we'll be safe should we reach that point," he promised.

Burt nodded and stood up. "I'm gonna go get dessert," he said, then looked at Kurt again. "We're not done talking about this."

"Yeah," Kurt said, tiredly. "I didn't think we were."

Kurt sat in the living room alone later that night. Burt and Carole had gone to bed and Finn was in his room playing video games. Just as Kurt began wondering what Blaine was up to, his phone started buzzing away in his pocket. He got it out quickly and answered it, hoping it was his boyfriend.

"Hello?"

"It's me," came Blaine's voice. "How's Lima?"

Kurt smiled. "Lima is Lima," he joked. "It's good to see Dad, Carole and Finn, though. What have you been up to?"

"Not a lot,' he said. "Didn't feel like going out tonight so I'm extending my vacation time."

Kurt chuckled. "Less worry for me," he said. "Worrying about you and having to deal with the lectures here is more than I'm capable of handling."

He heard Blaine's sigh of despair. "Sorry," he said. "I don't want you to have a bad Thanksgiving because of me."

"I'm not going to have a bad Thanksgiving, Blaine," Kurt assured him. "They're just trying to get through to me when they really don't have to. They don't know you."

"They don't understand. I am glad you're taking a few days off, though. What are you going to do?"

"Probably just gonna spend a lot of it sleeping," he admitted. "I do less thinking that way."

Kurt frowned at that last part, but didn't push it because Blaine had asked him not to make a big deal of things. "You can hang out at my place if you want. Sleep over, eat our food, water the plants."

Blaine laughed then. "In that order?"

"If you like," Kurt joked. "Are you okay? I mean, by yourself?"

"I have a lot of experience in being by myself, I'll be absolutely fine."

Kurt nodded, still not entirely convinced, but again, he didn't push it. "I was thinking about last night."

"Oh," Blaine said, timidly.

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "It was okay, right? We... I mean, we are okay, aren't we?"

"Yeah, of course," Blaine said, still quiet. "I was worried, I thought that if we ever did anything...more than making out, that it would make things...I don't know, different, but they don't feel different, at least not in a bad way. I actually feel...really good about it all." He sounded convincing and it made Kurt smile.

"Me, too," Kurt told him. He heard a noise in the hallway and sat up straight to look in its direction. "Listen, I think someone's up. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," Blaine said. "I, um, I miss you, by the way."

"I miss you, too," Kurt said, a little breathless. "Sweet dreams."

"Yeah, you, too," Blaine said. "Night."

"Goodnight," Kurt answered, before ending the call. "You can come in now, Finn," he shouted out into the hall.

Finn appeared at the door a moment later, looking sheepish. "Uh, hey, dude," he said, scratching his head awkwardly. "Just came down for some chips."

"Mmhmm," Kurt said, not convinced. "Sure you did."

"Was that him? The boyfriend?"

Kurt nodded.

"Can I sit down?"

Kurt shrugged and Finn sat at the other end of the couch, looking unsure about something.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, rolling his eyes.

"What happened last night? I mean, I think I can guess, it's just...I thought you and Burt didn't lie to each other."

Kurt sighed. "I'm not lying, Finn." He turned to face his step-brother. "You guys have nothing to worry about, okay? And even if we were doing anything like that, I'm not in any danger."

In truth, Kurt and Blaine had never actually had that conversation. Kurt had just assumed that Blaine got tested, but he felt as if it would be rude to bring it up.

Finn nodded slowly. "That's good to know," he said. "So, you and Rachel..."

Kurt let out a longer sigh this time. "Look, I know you love her and everything, but she has been a complete bitch about this entire thing, not to mention the fact that she has that smirking idiot..." He trailed off seeing Finn's frown. "I mean...Finn, I don't—"

"She's dating someone else?" he asked, sounding distressed.

"No, Finn, she isn't—"

"Kurt, just tell me the truth," he said, looking down at his knees, forehead creasing. "I deserve the truth."

Kurt nodded slowly. Finn was right. He did deserve the truth. Rachel was ignoring his phone calls, his texts, his emails. She obviously wasn't going to tell him anything any time soon and Finn was Kurt's brother after all.

"They aren't exclusive," he told Finn.

"What's he like?"

"Finn—"

"Tell me, Kurt."

Kurt sighed. "He's called Brody. He's at NYADA and he's...perfect. Too perfect, actually. Also possibly a nudist."

"He's been...?"

Kurt gave him a sad smile. Finn closed his eyes and flung his head back.

"Do you think she loves him?"

Kurt answered easily. "No," he said. "I do, however, think she likes the idea of it all. You know, the excitement of being in that kind of relationship?"

Finn tilted his head so that he was facing Kurt again and he opened his eyes. "Is that what it is for you? Excitement?"

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean with Blaine?" Finn nodded. "No," Kurt said, instantly. "No, Blaine and I are nothing like Rachel and Brody. Our relationship means something, theirs...doesn't." He shrugged.

"Blaine," Finn repeated experimentally. "He sounds like a douche."

"You don't even know him," Kurt said, too tired to get too defensive.

"I just don't understand how anyone can do what he does and be a decent person."

Kurt sighed. "Finn, he's had it hard. He doesn't want to do it. He hates it. He just...doesn't think he has a choice." He stood up. "Before you judge him, at least try to understand him. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Finn."

Blaine stood in Kurt's kitchen, body shaking, phone pressed to his ear, willing his boyfriend to just pick up. He knew Kurt was busy, that his family time was important to him, but he needed to hear his voice, needed some form of reassurance. Finally, the ringing came to a stop and Kurt spoke in his ear.

"Hey, you."

"Kurt," Blaine said.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, instantly.

Blaine eased himself down onto the couch and took a deep breath. "I'm at your apartment," he said. "I was on my way to the store, so I stopped by, just to make sure things were okay."

Kurt groaned. "Don't tell me we've been burgled," he begged. "I'm never going to be able to shut Rachel up now—"

"Kurt," Blaine said. "You haven't been burgled. It's just...I checked your phone messages, like you said I should before you left?" Kurt hummed his affirmation. "You had a message, but it was...for me."

"You?" Kurt asked, confusion plain in his voice.

"Yeah," Blaine said. "It was Rachel."

"Oh, God," Kurt said, horrified. "Blaine—"

"It's just..."

"Play it for me," he said. "I mean, if you can. If you don't want to, that's okay."

Blaine stood up and replayed the message for Kurt to hear.

"Blaine," Rachel's voice came, sounding slightly strained. "Kurt told me he said you could come here and I have to say, I am completely against the idea. Please, stay away from my room. If anything is stolen, I promise you, our family lawyer is exceptional."

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Blaine heard Kurt groan.

"And don't think about bringing any sleazy men back either!" Rachel went on. "You will pay for anything damaged or stained! If Kurt had told me sooner, I would have set up a CCTV system. He may be taken with your gentlemanly charm and your boyish good looks, but I assure you, I am not and frankly, Kurt is too good for you. He's got a bright future and he's talented and deserves so much more than a boy who pays his way with his body and if you cared about Kurt at all, you'd walk away."

"End it," Kurt demanded.

Blaine brought the phone back to his ear. "What?"

"End the message," Kurt said.

Blaine switched it off and sat back down, hands sweating.

"I'm so mad right now," Kurt told him and he sounded it. Blaine didn't say anything, just listened. "How dare she say those things to you! I am so beyond tired of her being a stuck up, little diva!" There was a sound of a door banging. "You can't listen to her," Kurt went on. "She has no idea what she's talking about and none of what she said was right."

Blaine made a small sound.

"Please tell me you aren't taking this to heart," Kurt said, voice softer. "Blaine, she's overreacting. She's trying to play at being a grown up, but she's acting like a spoilt little girl. You're enough. You're more than enough and I don't want you to walk away. God, I wish I was with you right now so that I could just convince you..."

"I didn't mean to spoil your Thanksgiving," Blaine said, quietly. "I don't know what I was looking for in calling you, whether it was reassurance or-or something else, I don't know. I just needed to hear you say...something. Anything. And I don't know if I wanted you to agree with her so that I could just get out of your life and let you find someone who can love you completely. I just panicked and I—"

"Blaine," Kurt said. "Blaine, calm down. Deep breaths. You're not ruining my Thanksgiving and I'm glad you called. You're upset. I know you are. She isn't right, Blaine and I could never agree with her. I don't want you out of my life. I want you in it. I want you."

Blaine nodded, eyes shut. His heart was still racing at a frantic beat.

"I want you," Kurt said again. "Do you want me, too?"

"You're all I want," Blaine confessed.

"Good," Kurt said and his smile was audible. "Then there isn't anything to worry about."

He nodded again. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "I'm sorry. It's just...she's your friend and I don't want to come between you."

"Trust me, none of this is your fault," Kurt assured him. "You just enjoy your break and don't worry about anything. Nothing could change the way I feel about you."

"Me neither," Blaine said. "Call me when you get the chance?"

"How's tonight?"

Blaine gave in to the smile. "Perfect."

"I'm thankful for food," Finn said and then stuttered when his mom shot him a glare. "And I'm thankful for all you guys and for home, because I've missed it." He grinned. "I'm thankful for friends and for Mr Schue, because he's letting me help him with glee. Oh, and I'm thankful that Rachel didn't shatter any bones, or anything."

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows and Burt shook his head, as if to say 'don't ask'. Carole tried to hide her smile, but failed. She nodded at her son and then looked around the table. "I'm thankful for Burt," she said, smiling at her husband. "And for my boys. I'm glad you're both happy and that you're growing into strong, young men. I'm thankful for our health and I'm thankful that we're all here, together and that we're happy."

Kurt, Finn and Burt smiled at her and Burt reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. Carole looked at him and smiled back.

"Why don't you go now, Burt?" she asked.

Burt nodded and took off his cap. "Alright," he said. "I'm thankful that Finn got back to us safely. I'm thankful that Kurt's here and that the Big Apple didn't take him away from us completely." Kurt laughed. "I'm thankful for Carole and this great meal you've both prepared for us and I'm thankful for family, bein' together, no matter how far apart we're livin'."

Kurt smiled at his dad and cleared his throat. "My turn, I guess," he said. "I'm thankful for all of you. No matter how happy I am in New York, it's never going to be really home to me, because home is where all of you are." Carole tilted her head and smiled. "I'm thankful that we're all here together, too. I'm thankful for Rachel, despite all her crazy," he said, with a roll of his eyes. "She's still my best friend and I don't think I would have been able to survive some days without her," he admitted. "Even though I'm really mad at her right now. I'm thankful for Blaine," he went on, ignoring the way the others dropped their gazes. "I am. He's become a huge part of my life and he makes me happy and I'm thankful to have him, no matter what you all think. I hope one day you'll all understand." He paused. "Okay, let's eat."

Burt nodded and stood up and started to carve the turkey. His eyes, however, remained on his son.

"Okay," Burt said, sitting down next to Kurt on the couch that evening. "We're gonna talk about this."

Kurt pursed his lips and took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly and said, "Fine, but I draw the line at degradation or name calling in any way, shape or form."

"Of course," Burt agreed. "Alright," he said. "Here's how I see it. You've never known anyone else...like you. This kid comes along, he's cute, he likes the same things you do and you took to him, saw him as more than just a friend, because you could—"

"Dad," Kurt said, shaking his head.

"Let me finish, you'll get your turn," Burt said.

Kurt sighed and closed his mouth.

"And you know, maybe this kid — he's had a hard time — maybe he's had the same problem, you know, you showed him a little kindness and he saw you as more than just a friend,too—"

"No, Dad," Kurt said, adamantly. "I can't listen to this."

"Kurt, I'm just trying to—"

Kurt stood up. "You're trying to talk me out of being with him," he said. "You're not trying to understand. You don't know him."

"I don't want this to come between us, Kurt."

Kurt let out a long breath. "Dad," he said, calmly. "Nothing and no one is going to come between us, but you've got this all wrong. Blaine is harmless." He paused. "He didn't think he had any other choice. What if things had been different for me? What if I'd run off to the city by myself with practically no money or education? What if I'd found myself in a position where there was no other option? Then what? Would that make me a bad person? Would it mean I never deserve love or someone to care about me? He's a human being, Dad and I really care about him and he cares about me, too. If you could just think about what it must be like to be Blaine, maybe you'd see things differently."

Kurt gave him dad a small smile, before saying goodnight and going upstairs to bed. Burt Hummel sat on the couch, thinking.

The incessant sound of sirens sounded outside the open window. The air was cool and the room was clammy, but the noise was deafening and kept Blaine awake. He sighed and turned over in his pull-out bed, the room shadowed by the blind and the low-lit lamp. It wasn't often that he could afford to stay home at night, but it was the day after Thanksgiving and Kurt wanted him to take a break.

The things Rachel had said and the things Blaine knew Kurt's family would say had been running around his mind all day. And then there was Kurt, with his smiles and his laughs and his caring nature and the way he simply brushed off any negative comments and opinions and went on with Blaine as normal. Most of the inhibitions Blaine had had regarding their relationship had fizzled and died. For one, sexual intimacy didn't seem to have changed a thing for either of them.

Blaine turned away from the noise and the light and closed his eyes, smiling at the memory of being that close to Kurt, at the memory of the smile he had given him afterwards. He couldn't help remembering how it had felt being that close to Kurt, their bodies pressed flush together, touches uncertain, mouths frantic, yet careful. Blaine hadn't ever felt like that with anyone, and he had been with a lot of people. It was the want, he thought, the fact that nobody was in control of him or telling him what to do, the fact that with Kurt, he could let down his walls and let him inside. And reaching climax like that, with Kurt, was so unlike anything else. Blaine hadn't known it could be like that.

He lay back against the pillows, mind drifting to the way Kurt had moved against him and that was when he felt it; the twitch below the waist. Blaine was still a teenager, it was true, but that feeling, the one other teenagers experienced when they thought about sexual things, was long gone for him. Until now, it seemed. He turned over again, in an endeavour to rid himself of his growing erection, but it was futile. He tried to think of negative things and when that didn't work, he tried to recall all of the worst encounters he had had with men, but his mind would only drift back to Kurt and how the particular action would be so different with him.

Blaine sat up and sighed. He wouldn't touch himself. He hadn't touched himself in that way in so long and the idea of it sickened him. He didn't even like looking at himself. Yet he needed relief, needed something—anything. He brought his hand lower, cautiously, fingers edging dangerously close to the waistband of his old pyjama pants. And then he stopped, stomach twisting.

He couldn't do it.

Kurt worried his eyebrows together as he ended the call. He turned around and found his dad looking at him, concern in his eyes.

"Still no answer," he told Burt, slipping the phone into his pocket.

"Kid probably slept in," Burt offered. "You'd probably better get goin', huh? Flight's at 9.45?"

Kurt nodded. "Bye, Dad," he said, moving into the circle of his father's arms. "I'll call you when I land."

"You better," Burt joked, moving back. "Y'know, Rachel's been starin' over here for the past ten minutes."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm mad at her."

"Well, you know, this whole thing, it's hard, Kurt. You can't exactly blame her for bein' a little hesitant—"

"She left him a really offensive voice message, Dad. There's no excuse for that," he said, bending to grab his cases. "Anyway, I've gotta go," he said. "I'll call you," he said again.

"Alright, kid. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Kurt was aware of Rachel's eyes on him as they went through security. Kurt was retrieving his belongings at the end and she stood staring, like she wanted to say something. Kurt remained silent.

"Kurt," she said, finally. "Kurt, you can't ignore me forever."

"Watch me," he said, turning around and looking for the correct gate. She ran after him, pink wheelie case behind her.

"Kurt, surely you can see that I have a point—"

"You left him a voice message, Rachel. A really offensive, really horrible voice message," he pointed out. "You really upset him." He continued on down the airport, eyes dropping down to his phone again. There was still no reply.

"Kurt, he's a prostitute—"

"Yes, I'm aware," was all he said. "Just drop it, Rachel. We need to get going and I'm not in the mood."

Finally, she stopped talking and followed him.

Kurt sat on the couch in their apartment, dialling Blaine's number over and over. He had sent several texts and still there was no reply and he was starting to get worried. Rachel had gone over to Brody's (surprise, surprise) and he was glad she wasn't there irritating him while he was trying to get through to Blaine. It was after 1am and he hadn't heard from Blaine since around 4pm. Something was wrong, Kurt could feel it. This felt different to the last time, the time when he had sat up all night waiting for his call. This time, he knew something really wasn't right and it shook him all the way through.

It was like all his worst nightmares coming together all at once. He'd wondered what he would do in a situation like this before. He had no address, no other way of getting in contact and he kept envisioning Blaine in horrible, drastic scenarios. He couldn't go to the police because that would mean telling them he was a prostitute.

Kurt stood up and paced back and forth a few times, wondering what he could do. He brought Rachel's number to the screen of his phone and waited until she picked up.

"Kurt?" she said, almost excitedly.

"I need your help," he confessed. "I know how you feel about him and I know you won't want to help me, but I can't get through to him, Rachel and I'm so, so scared that something terrible has happened."

"Wait, wait," Rachel said. "Slow down. What's going on?"

Kurt took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "It's Blaine," he began. "I haven't heard from him in hours, Rachel. He's not picking up and I can't stop imagining the worst."

"That's what happens when you're dating a wh—"

"Fine, don't bother, I'll figure it out," he said and went to end the call.

"Wait, Kurt!" she said quickly. "I...I'm sorry. I'll help. Just..." She trailed off and Kurt heard her sighing. "Hold on a second."

Kurt waited, trying to keep himself calm and she came back a few minutes later.

"Brody says to try a club called Lapis Lazuli. He says all the hookers hang out around there."

"You told him?" Kurt demanded to know.

"No, of course not," she said. "I just mentioned it in a really vague manner. I told him you landed a part in a small play in which you had to play a hooker and that you were looking for inspiration."

Kurt groaned. "That's the worst lie you have ever told," he apprised her. "But I'll try. I think I heard Blaine mention the place before. Bye."

He hung up immediately and then wrote a quick note, which he stuck to the fridge door, in case Blaine came by, before hurrying out the door and down the stairs.

It turned out that Lapis Lazuli was closed for the holidays and no one was around at all. It was a run down area, with trash in the streets and graffiti covering every wall, door and flat surface that wasn't the ground. Kurt's stomach churned as he imagined Blaine out there by himself at night. He pulled out his phone and tried again, but there was still no reply. He was at a loss, he had no idea what to do or where to go and what if he never saw Blaine again? What if he wound up being a nameless body that the police simply filed away as another dead prostitute. Kurt saw it on TV shows all the time. The police didn't care about the prostitutes or the drug addicts or the homeless when they were found dead. Of course the FBI usually showed up and did care, but that was on TV.

This was real life and real life was absolutely terrifying.

"Any luck?" Rachel asked when Kurt answered her call an hour later.

"No," he said, going back up to their apartment in the elevator. "I'm back home. I don't know where else to look. It's so cold out, Rachel. He'd freeze."

The elevator stopped and he stepped out and headed down the hall.

"Well, did he tell you where he usually goes?"

"He just said hotels, or motels or whatever. He didn't say he was working tonight." Kurt opened the door and went inside to the empty apartment. He switched on the lights and sat down on the couch, still feeling sick. "I can't really go to every hotel in the city and knock on all the doors," he said, trying for sarcasm, but failing. "God, I feel sick."

"I'm sure he's fine, Kurt," Rachel said. "He knows what he's doing. After all, he's been at this for a while, right?"

"That doesn't mean he's immortal or immune to every murderer or nutcase, Rachel!" Kurt snapped. He shut his eyes, trying to keep himself together. "God, I never even told him I love him," he realised. He laughed shakily then. "I don't think I even realised I love him until just now. What if I never see him again?"

"We'll go to the police, we'll figure it out."

"We can't go to the—"

Kurt stopped when the interference sounded in his ears. It was loud and staticky and his blood stilled and hummed in his veins.

"Someone's trying to get through," he said. "I'll call you back."

Before she could reply, Kurt ended the call and looked down at the screen of his phone. It was a text and it was from Blaine. Kurt opened it, fingers shaking and when the text appeared, he saw that it was just an address. He didn't think twice about leaving immediately.

Are you okay? I've been searching everywhere. Please answer.

Blaine stared down at the phone through blurred vision and forced himself to compose a reply. It hurt — God, everything hurt — but for Kurt, he would try.

Im ok, he typed, im sorrxy its so late but i need u the door is op en

He dropped the phone down next to him and closed his eyes. He just needed to sleep, just for a minute. A text message came through, but he didn't see it.

I'm coming.

Kurt stood on the sidewalk staring up at the dilapidated building. A few of the windows were boarded up and the paint was peeling off of the front door. The roof was missing a few slates and the steps leading up to the door were broken and crooked. Kurt looked down at Blaine's message, just to make sure this was the right building and sure enough, this was it. Blaine was here. Somewhere.

Kurt climbed the steps and pushed the door open. There was no door man or security in sight, anybody could just walk inside. The elevator, it seemed, was out of service. Kurt sighed. The elevator would have gotten him upstairs faster. He started up the grimy staircase, grimacing, eyes searching out the right door; number 105a.

He stopped at the top of the staircase. It was dark, the light overhead was dim and blinking, but Kurt could see the sign on the wall. 56a-85b. He turned on his heel and headed up the next set of stairs, which was as dirty as the last, but that didn't matter. He needed to get to Blaine.

When Kurt reached the top, he saw that the sign up here had the numbers 86a-125b. This was the right floor. This floor also had a dim light, but at least it was unblinking. He made his way down the hall, eyes seeking out the correct number. He kept going. 89a, 94b, 100a...

And then he stopped. There was a woman and a man standing at the end of the hall. The woman was probably in her fifties. She was wearing an off-pink dressing gown and she had curlers in her bleach-blonde hair. The man was wearing a dark jacket and pants and she was hanging out of him, laughing maniacally. Kurt took a deep breath and kept going, only stopping when he realised that the man and woman were standing outside 105b. They both looked up at him when he stopped.

The woman's eyes raked him up and down. "You lost, honey?" she drawled, New York accent thick.

"No," he said, quickly, walking around them to get to 105a.

"Oh, you friends with the whore?" she asked, frowning.

Kurt ignored that.

"Kid next door," she explained to the guy. "Street walker," she said. "Bends over to keep his pockets full." She laughed loudly again and the guy joined in.

Kurt rolled his eyes and tapped lightly on 105a and when he did, the door slipped open easily.

"Blaine?" he called out.

There wasn't a sound. It was completely dark, a black pit, but he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Blaine," he called again. This time, there was a small groan. Kurt rushed forward. The moon slipped through the blind and sent a small, stab of light in the darkness. He found a standing lamp and slipped his fingers along the cool metal until he found the switch. He flicked it and the room filled with light.

"Blaine," he exhaled, seeing the other boy curled up on what appeared to be a pull out sofa bed. "God, Blaine," he said, bending down next to his boyfriend.

Blaine pushed himself around to face Kurt. His eyes were half lidded, face dirty, bottom lip bloody and swollen. Kurt's heart was racing in his chest.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, don't move. Just..." He trailed off, looking down Blaine's body. His clothes were torn, the arm of his sweater ripped at the seams. His sweatpants were on backwards. "God, who did this to you, baby?" he asked, reaching out to touch Blaine's cheek. He flinched at the contact.

"Kurt," he managed. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't w-want you to have to s-see this." He groaned. "It hurts so m-much," he hissed, eyes closing.

"Okay," Kurt said, trying to sound calm, but he was panicking. he had no idea what to do. "Blaine, should I call an ambulan—"

"No!" Blaine begged, eyes opening, pleading.

"Okay," Kurt repeated. "Okay, I just... You have to tell me what you need. I don't... Blaine, what happened? What can I do?"

"I just want to sleep," Blaine said, quietly, eyes closing again.

"No," Kurt said, reaching out to touch him, but he stopped, not wanting to hurt him. "Blaine, just..." He was terrified to let him sleep, terrified that he had a head injury, or something worse. "Blaine, please, stay awake. We need to clean you up. I just..." He looked around. There really wasn't much in the apartment. There was a small kitchen area behind the couch, with a small table and two chairs and off to the side, there was one door, which probably led to a bathroom.

"Blaine, do you have a bathtub or a shower?" he asked and then shook his head, because of course Blaine had to have one of those. "I mean, can you get up?"

Blaine nodded, eyes shutting quickly like he was in pain. "I made it home," he said.

Kurt reached out and steadied him as he pushed himself up. "Okay?" he asked.

Blaine let out a shaky laugh. "Dizzy," he whispered.

Kurt exhaled slowly. "Do you need...?"

Blaine shook his head. His hair was a mess. "I'm okay," he said, getting to his feet. He wobbled and Kurt moved to grip his arms. He didn't look okay. Kurt wasn't sure it was a good idea to move him any more.

"Blaine..."

"Just...shower," he choked out.

Kurt, against his better judgement, steered Blaine slowly into what he assumed to be a bathroom, but it wasn't one. It was a room, a bedroom, and it was empty, save for a small chest of drawers, a couple of boxes and an old suitcase. He didn't ask questions, he simply kept going, leading Blaine through a further door, which did turn out to be a bathroom. It was small, poky, but clean. He stopped and turned to look at Blaine, who was blinking as if he was trying to stay awake, or upright, or conscious, Kurt wasn't sure.

"Let's get these off of you," he said, trying to smile, but failing.

Blaine looked uncertain, but didn't protest when Kurt tugged his sweater carefully over his head. The gasp that escaped Kurt's lips seemed to bring Blaine back to earth.

Kurt's eyes were wide and fear-stricken as he studied Blaine's torso. He had a purplish bruise on his chest, right above his left nipple and up higher, at his throat, were several dark, angry, finger shaped bruises. Kurt swallowed hard, trying not to think about how they had to have gotten there. He tried not to look too surprised, either, but Blaine had seen the shock behind his eyes and he looked hurt, broken and afraid.

"Blaine," Kurt said, watching as Blaine took a small step backwards and stumbled. he caught him before he could fall down. "It's okay." He took Blaine's hand in his own and entwined their fingers tightly together. "It's okay," he said again.

Blaine shook his head and a single tear slid down his marked cheek. "It isn't," he squeaked. "I n-never wanted y-you to have to see this." More tears followed and they left dark tracks against his skin, which was currently sallow and sickly looking. "I shouldn't h-have c-c-called," he sobbed. "I shouldn't..."

Kurt moved forward and shushed him as he took him into the circle of his arms, careful, so as not to hurt him. "You did the right thing," he promised. "I'm so glad you called."

"I sh-shouldn't have..." Blaine said again, burying his nose in Kurt's neck. "You're so... You don't deserve..."

"Blaine," Kurt said, firmly. He pulled back a little and reached up to catch the now fast-flowing tears. "I'm here for you," he said. "Let me get you cleaned up and then we'll go to sleep, okay?"

"I c-can't sleep," Blaine said, almost desperately. "Everytime I close my eyes..." His eyes shut and he shivered visibly. "But I'm so t-tired."

Kurt's heart ached physically, which he hadn't thought was even possible. He tried his best to push away the anxiety, the fear and the need to cry out for help, and he reached out to turn the knob on the shower around and the water started spraying down into the coral coloured tub. Kurt turned back around and took a deep breath, before pushing Blaine's pants downwards.

"Kurt..."

"It's okay," Kurt assured him. "This isn't about anything other than me helping you. Don't worry."

Blaine's face was twisted with worry, but Kurt continued undressing him, keeping his eyes off of Blaine's lower body. He helped him into the tub and Blaine automatically dropped down to a seated position. Kurt rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a shampoo bottle and got to his knees and started washing Blaine's hair. He tried not to stare at the pinkish red colour twirling and spinning at the drain from the mixture of suds and water and blood and dirt.

"Tilt your head back, sweetie," Kurt said, softly and when Blaine did, his eyes drifted to the bruising around his neck. It looked harsher now, from the water, and Kurt had to shake his head in an endeavour to rid his mind of the images playing inside. "Okay," he said, once he was done rinsing out all the shampoo.

Blaine was silent as he watched Kurt cleaning off his chest and his back and his arms. Kurt wanted to ask what was wrong, wanted to fix whatever it was that was clearly eating him up inside, but he couldn't, didn't know how.

"Talk to me," he whispered, sitting back on his knees. "I don't know what to do," he said, and it sounded more like a plea.

Blaine shuddered as he inhaled and then exhaled and only then did he turn his head, forehead wrinkling in pain, and met Kurt's eyes. "I need to do...th-this part on my own," he told him.

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding. "I don't..."

"It's..." He dropped his head. "I... From p-prepping and..."

Kurt nodded slowly, understanding now. "Are you sure...?" he asked. "If you need me to... Blaine..."

"There's clothes through there," he said, lifting an arm to point behind Kurt. "Just... I just need five minutes."

Kurt nodded and got to his feet. "Can I borrow a shirt?" he asked, holding out his damp sleeve.

"Yeah," Blaine said, looking up again. "Anything you n-need."

Kurt stood for another moment, then sighed and bent to kiss the top of Blaine's wet head. "Shout if you need anything."

Blaine only nodded and Kurt left him to do the rest. Back in the other room, Kurt opened the top drawer in the chest. He found a few pairs of socks and underwear and one old sneaker. He grabbed a pair of underwear and then closed the drawer, before opening the next one. Blaine didn't own a lot of clothes, Kurt had known that already, and despite his efforts to try and allow him to take Blaine shopping, he wouldn't ever let him, so it was easy enough to find a shirt and bottoms for Blaine and then a shirt for himself. He quickly changed and then went back to the bathroom door. He rapped gently on it, before calling out to his boyfriend.

"Can I come in?"

There was a few splashing sounds and then Blaine called back that he could. He walked in, holding the clothes and found Blaine standing, a towel wrapped around his body. Kurt smiled.

"You're shivering," he said.

Blaine tried to shrug, but ended up stumbling a little. Kurt caught a hold of him.

"Come on, I'll help you get dressed," Kurt said, peeling the towel off of his body. Blaine was pulling back again. "You don't need to be embarrassed," Kurt told him. "Are you dry?"

Blaine nodded, eyes still on his feet. Kurt helped him redress and then stopped and looked at him. He looked a little better, cleaner, for one. The swelling of his lower lip had gone down, but the bruises covering him were still alarming.

"I'm staying the night if that wasn't obvious," Kurt said.

"You don't have t-to," Blaine said, teeth chattering. "I never wanted you to see h-here."

Kurt frowned and tilted his head. "Blaine," he said. "I'm not judging you. Nothing about tonight has changed how I feel about you." If anything, it made him want to hold him tighter, to keep him safe from every harmful thing in the world. "Come on," he said, "let's go to bed. We don't have to sleep yet if you don't want." He added that last part, because Blaine eyes had gone a little wide at the mention of sleep.

"I feel so...so w-weak," Blaine confessed.

"You," Kurt said, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of Blaine's shoulders, "are the strongest person I know."

He bent and kissed his lips softly, before taking his hand and leading him back outside to the pullout bed.

Minutes later, they were in the dark, beneath the thin blanket on the sofa bed. Kurt was running his fingers through Blaine's damp curls and humming softly. Blaine's eyes were open, just watching him. Kurt wasn't even sure what song he was humming any more, he wasn't sure that it was even a song, but the thick, deafening silence had been alarming in his ears and he needed to fill up the silence, needed to fill it for both of them. Finally, he stopped, because the roof of his mouth had started to go numb. He smiled in the dark, wondering if Blaine could even see him at this angle.

"You don't belong here," Blaine whispered.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Here," Blaine repeated. "I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Blaine," Kurt said. "You needed me."

"I've been through w-worse," he said faster now, like he was on the verge of panic, losing air. "I s-shouldn't have made you c-come. I knew it was a-a b-bad idea."

Kurt moved closer and tried to hold onto him, but he was moving too quickly. He shot back a little and hugged his arms around himself protectively.

"Blaine," Kurt pleaded. "Come on, come here."

"I needed you," he said. "But I sh-shouldn't have m-made you come."

Kurt stood up and hit the light on again and when he turned back around, he saw Blaine, curled in on himself, eyes wide, body shaking. He dropped down to his knees on the bed and reached out to touch Blaine's quivering hand. Blaine didn't jr away this time, but he looked like the touch had burnt him.

"Please don't," he begged.

"Don't what, baby?" Kurt asked, voice breaking.

"T-touch me," he whispered, almost frantically. "If you touch me..."

"What?" Kurt asked. "What'll happen?"

Blaine closed his eyes and muttered something, his cheeks wet from the tears which had started trickling from the corners of his bloodshot eyes.

"Blaine," Kurt said. "Blaine, come here."

He opened his arms for him, which only made him move further away. Kurt followed.

"Blaine," he said again. "Just tell me what to do."

Kurt was on the verge of breaking down and that was the last thing he wanted when he was supposed to offering support. Blaine curled his knees up and covered his face as he started to rock, breathing heavily. Kurt watched for a moment, afraid to touch in case he did something wrong, but then Blaine's body began to wrack with loud, heart stopping sobs and Kurt sprang across the bed to hold him together. This time, Blaine let him.

He held him there, trying to calm him down and wondering if his dad and Carole had been right, if this really was far too much for him to handle by himself. That didn't mean he was giving up, though. He would never give up, but it was a lot and he had no experience in this kind of thing, had no idea how to deal with a situation like this.

Blaine started to say something over and over, like a mantra, but his voice was muffled by his hands, which were still covering his face.

"What?" Kurt asked. "What did you say?"

Blaine started to say it louder this time, but it was still inaudible. Kurt reached out and pried his hands gently away and then looked right into his shining, red rimmed eyes.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, softly.

"Ineedyou," Blaine whispered. "I need you, I need you, I need you."

"I'm here," Kurt said, desperately. "I'm here, I'm right here."

Blaine started shaking his head. He looked so afraid, small tendrils of his dark hair sticking to his forehead, clothing wrinkled and twisted. His chest was risin and falling quickly, like he was gasping for breath, but he just kept repeating the same words over and over and over.

"I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you," he said, crying still. "I just...I need you."

Kurt wanted to scream, wanted to pry the words behind the words out of Blaine and help him. He had no idea what to do.

"Talk to me," Kurt begged, feeling himself breaking. Tears spilled from his own eyes, hot and heavy and fast. "I don't know what to do!" he said, not so calmly. "I'm here! I'm here, what do you need? Tell me what you need."

Suddenly, Blaine was against him, holding onto him, clinging to him. His eyes were wide, dilated, brighter than Kurt had ever seen them.

"I need you," Blaine said and this time, for whatever reason, Kurt understood. He knew what Blaine wanted, he could feel it, in his heart, in his mind, in every part of him. "Please," Blaine whispered. "I need you."

Kurt let out a sob, but Blaine's lips were against his own, suddenly, swallowing it, keeping him together and making him fall apart all at once. Kurt relaxed back against the pillows, as Blaine continued to kiss him, his hands finding their way under the shirt and stopping where his heart was beating wildly beneath his ribs, threatening to burst from its confines.

"I need you," Blaine said for the hundredth time against Kurt's lips.

"Anything," Kurt said. He gasped then as Blaine pushed the shirt over his head and the cool air hit his bare skin.

Kurt took a deep breath and caught the bottom of Blaine's shirt, then pushed it away, so that their bare chests were pressed close.

"We sh-shouldn't," Blaine said, but made no moves to break contact.

"Anything," Kurt said again and this time, it was like a promise.

Blaine whimpered and moved closer and Kurt felt him hard against his thigh. It made him feel better that Blaine was hard, too, because he had felt himself getting hard and had felt horrible that he would pick such a moment to be turned on. It was in that split second that Kurt made the decision, a decision that he had been rocking on the edge of for the past few minutes, since Blaine had said those words with such passion, such fervency. I need you.

"Do you have...?" Kurt asked and Blaine nodded without him even needing to finish that sentence. He watched as Blaine struggled to his feet, wobbling and then finding his balance. He moved across the room and on the way back, he turned out the light, before climbing back onto the bed, body still shaking. He pressed two items into Kurt's hand, before catching his lips in a bruising kiss, which had to hurt, because Blaine's lip was still swollen, still red and cut.

"We don't have to..." Blaine choked out, but Kurt only shook his head.

"You need me, right?" Kurt asked, pulling back to meet Blaine's eyes.

Please don't say no, please don't say no.

Blaine nodded. Kurt smiled and reached down to push his pants down his legs. His eyes never left Blaine's.

"I need you, too," he whispered and he pulled him down for another kiss.

Kurt's eyes were closed as his fingers worked in and out of Blaine, where he was already stretched and sensitive. His lips were pressed into the clammy crevice of his bruised neck, just kissing, gently, slowly, breaths coming in short, loud pants. Blaine's right ear was pressed against the pillow, his body shaking but pliant, where he lay on his stomach, hips tilted so that Kurt had enough access to open him up properly. Kurt felt as if he wasn't inside his own body, like he was watching himself and Blaine from the other side of other room, perhaps even from another planet. His blood hummed and sang warmly in his veins and he felt as if he could hear it and it was harmonising with the incessant, unsteady hammer of his heart, where his chest was pressed against Blaine's back.

Kurt added another finger, so afraid of hurting Blaine, but he seemed to be able to take it. Kurt had never been this close to anyone. He hadn't envisioned he and Blaine reaching this point for a while, but now that it was here, he wouldn't go back on it, he had never wanted someone so badly in all his life.

Blaine let out a choking sound and Kurt kissed the curve of his jaw, before pulling back, removing his fingers entirely. Blaine twisted his neck around and Kurt could tell he regretted doing it, because he dropped it in pain, a hiss escaping his lips.

"Hold on," Kurt said, peeling the foil pack back. He rolled the condom on, hoping to God that he was doing it right, and then coated his cock with the lube Blaine had handed him. He took a deep breath and then dropped back down to kiss Blaine's cheek. "Okay?" he asked, because he needed to know, needed to make sure.

"Please," Blaine exhaled.

Kurt kissed him again and reached a hand down between them to guide himself inside. Blaine had been stretched a little from earlier, from whoever he had been with earlier that day, and Kurt had done a thorough job in stretching him, too, yet, somehow, he still felt impossibly tight as Kurt pushed gently (as gently as he could) inside.

"Okay?" he asked again, needing reassurance.

"Don't stop," Blaine begged, hand curling around the corner of the pillow.

Kurt nodded, despite Blaine not being able to see him and pressed the rest of the way inside, eyes closing when Blaine clenched around him. Blaine whispered a broken plea and Kurt hesitated, then pulled his hips back and pushed back inside. He wasn't going to last long. This was different to his own hand, different to how it had felt when he and Blaine had gotten off together days previously. He continued the same motion over and over until they found a slow, but satisfying rhythm, always too close, but not quite close enough.

Blaine was moaning into the pillow, his eyes shut, fingers curling. Kurt was trying to keep himself from crying, or screaming, or whatever it was his body wanted to do. He felt as if he wasn't in control, like something else had taken over and he, who had little to no knowledge about this kind of thing, was simply watching as some unknown entity overtook his body and made him move in ways he hadn't even been aware he could move.

Blaine's right hand slipped down his body and Kurt followed it with his own hand. Blaine made a sound and Kurt hushed him and wrapped his fingers around Blaine's erection. He closed his eyes, wondering how he hadn't come yet. He was inside Blaine and he had his hand on Blaine's cock and Blaine was making small, short whimpering sounds beneath him, yet he still hadn't come.

He remembered Blaine's words then.

They don't...when I'm with...them. They don't care about me...you know, getting off. They never...

"I want you to...first," Kurt said, out loud.

Blaine let out a shaky breath and turned his head slowly. Kurt gave him a nod and a smile, before closing his eyes again, as he pressed back inside Blaine's tight heat.

"Come on, baby," Kurt managed, tightening his grip on Blaine's cock. "I've got you."

"Kurt..." Blaine murmured, thrusting into Kurt's hand.

"It's okay," Kurt swore, moving his hips faster, to match the movements of his hand.

"Kurt," Blaine cried out again and Kurt quickened the pace further and then with a final moan, Blaine came, spilling over Kurt's fist.

Kurt's hips stuttered forward as he felt Blaine's clenching around him and he came, his face pressed into Blaine's neck. He rolled off of him, wary of Blaine's bruised body and then lay there, wondering if he would ever get his hearing back again. He didn't move until his breathing had slowed and his heart had retreated back to an almost steady rhythm. At that point, he sat up, removed the condom, tied it off and wrapped it in a piece of tissue to dispose of later. He stood up, rocked a little on his feet, and then went to the bathroom to grab a towel. He came back and cleaned Blaine off, before climbing under the covers with him.

Blaine lay still, staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, lethargically. Kurt watched for a while and then moved forward, leaning on his elbow.

"Hey," he whispered.

Blaine turned his head to look at him.

"You can go to sleep," Kurt said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blaine's face twisted, lips going into a straight line, like he was trying not to cry. Kurt bent and kissed them once.

"It's going to be okay," he promised, knowing he probably shouldn't, because he didn't know that it would be, he just vowed that he would try his hardest to make it okay. "You'll see, you'll wake up in the morning and it'll all be okay."

"What if it isn't?" Blaine whispered, breaking his silence.

"Then we'll deal with it," Kurt replied, wrapping his arms around Blaine's body. "We'll deal with it and we'll keep dealing with it until it is okay."

Blaine nodded and another tear escaped his eye. "I'm sorry," he said in a hushed tone.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Kurt answered. "Get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning."

Blaine nodded and curled into Kurt's embrace.

"Wake me if you need me," Kurt added, kissing the tip of Blaine's nose. Blaine nodded and slipped his arms around Kurt's waist. "Promise?"

He held on tighter, like there was a risk of Kurt disappearing if he didn't hold on. "I promise."