Chapter Twenty

"You have my number, of course," Kurt said. "And Blaine's."

"Yes," Rachel assured them once again. "And you've already been over the timeline a dozen times: the five o'clock revival showing of Chicago at the local theater, and then a dinner at the downtown bistro, followed by a nice quiet evening to yourselves at your house." She flashed him a suggestive smile. "And then, you'll be back here tomorrow morning to pick up Aiden and Ella. Trust me, I have everything under control."

Kurt still looked slightly nervous, rubbing his hands together, and Rachel took his hands in hers. "It's only one night," she assured him. "And if you want, you're always welcome to come back here and check on them."

"He won't," Blaine told her with a smile. He glanced at Kurt. "You need this."

"We need this," Kurt amended with a nervous grin, and Blaine smiled more widely, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Now go," Rachel urged them. "Finn and I have this perfectly under control, and you're going to hardly have any spare time as it is. Get going!"

An hour later, Kurt and Blaine were settled in their seats, the theater dark as Roxie was sent to the Cook County Jail. The familiar introduction to 'Cell Block Tango' started playing and Kurt couldn't help but smile to himself (because honestly, it was indisputably one of the most amazing musical numbers to be on Broadway). He shared a glance with Blaine, sitting to his left. Blaine smiled, giving Kurt's knee a small squeeze with the hand he'd been resting there. Kurt returned the smile, leaning slightly toward the other man so that their shoulders were touching, and the singing began.

It was at some point during 'squish' that Kurt suddenly realized Blaine's hand had left his knee, and his fingers were now rested on his inner thigh, his thumb gently brushing over the front of his leg. He gave his leg another light squeeze, then shifted so that his palm was pressed flush against the joint of his leg. Kurt stared at him breathlessly, his eyes wide, completely ignoring the fluent Hungarian speech now coming from the stage. Blaine however, still seemed to be utterly invested in the performance. He took a deep breath, turning back to the stage.

Fine, he thought desperately, if Blaine wanted to play this game...

However, at some point between 'I Can't Do it Alone' and 'My Own Best Friend', Blaine's hand had shifted once again, and Kurt couldn't prevent the tiny gasp of shock from escaping his lips. Kurt clenched his jaw, fingertips digging into the arm of his chair, suddenly finding himself anxious for the intermission.

When at last the lights went up, Blaine quickly and smoothly removed his hand and pushed himself up out of his seat. He flashed Kurt a smile, telling him that he was going to head to the bathroom.

Perfect.

Kurt carefully waited a few minutes before making his way to the restroom. He quickly spotted the other man washing his hands at one of the sinks, then drying them off. He glanced up at Kurt with mild surprise as he dropped the paper towel in the trash can.

Blaine opened his mouth to say something but Kurt was shoving him roughly against the wall, pinning his shoulders against the cold tile. Blaine's breath hitched slightly, and Kurt moved dangerously close to him.

"You're despicable," he muttered, and he pressed his mouth to Blaine's neck, eliciting another gasp as he sucked lightly on the skin there. "Completely evil."

At last Blaine regained control of his thoughts, letting his hands find Kurt's hips and jerking him closer so that their bodies were flush against each other. He quickly captured Kurt's lips with his own, kissing him desperately, hot and open-mouthed. He at last managed to push against Kurt, turning him so that his back was against the mirror. Kurt only let out a small whine, muttering something vaguely about 'completely filthy' and 'disgusting', Blaine pinning his wrists against the glass.

"I think—mmm," Kurt gasped out as Blaine's lips moved along his jawline, teeth scraping slightly against his skin, leaving the skin slightly raw. "We should—we should—nnggh—skip dinner. We can always—always order in—"

"God yes," Blaine breathed out, his voice intoning the same desperate neediness as Kurt's.

"We should probably get back to our seats," Kurt murmured, and he couldn't help but smile at the small noise of dissatisfaction that Blaine made.

"Yeah," he sighed, though he still stared at the brunette for a moment longer before pulling himself away, straightening his collared shirt as Kurt quickly smoothed his hair in the mirror. He watched as Kurt left the bathroom before him, smirking over his shoulder as the door swung shut behind him. Blaine swallowed thickly, confident that the second act would be painfully long.

In the brief moments of more lucid thoughts that Kurt had, he was rather amazed, but none-the-less pleased, that they had managed to actually make it back to his house, and hadn't resorted to anything desperate in the back of his car; because god, they weren't in high school anymore, despite what they occasionally acted like.

He knew that at some point they'd collect the clothing they had carelessly discarded on the way to the bedroom, maybe after they ordered dinner. He smiled vaguely, sinking lower into the hot bath water, letting the bubbles tickle his skin. He glanced up as the bathroom door opened, Blaine smiling tiredly at him as he shut the door again. He slipped out of his boxers again and Kurt leaned forward as the other man slid into the tub behind him. Blaine pulled him to his chest. Kurt settled himself between his knees, his head back on Blaine's shoulder.

Kurt hummed in contentment as Blaine maneuvered them slightly, finding access to the soft skin of Kurt's neck and sucking a dark purple mark there. He hissed slightly as the skin stung, but Blaine ran a thumb gently over the bruise, somehow managing to ease the pain.

"I was thinking maybe we could order Greek," Kurt told him softly, Blaine hummed in response.

"Delicious," he muttered against the skin of Kurt's shoulder, causing the brunette to shudder slightly. "Want me to wash your hair?" he offered, and Kurt nodded against him. He grabbed the bottle from the side of the tub, squeezing a small amount into his palm before massaging it into the brunette's scalp. Kurt sighed contentedly.

He rinsed his hair and leaned back into Blaine's chest once more as the man rinsed his own curls, when the silence was broken by the familiar ringing of his cell phone. He sighed frustratedly, picking up the phone from the toilet seat and seeing Rachel's name on the screen. His heart stopped for a moment as he answered the call, quickly climbing out of the tub and snatching up a towel.

"Hello?"

"Kurt?" Rachel asked nervously. "Oh thank god."

"Everything all right?" he asked quickly. "Aiden, is he—?"

"No, no, Aiden's fine," Rachel quickly went on. "It's Ella. Blaine's phone is off, I tried several times, but couldn't get to him."

Kurt turned to Blaine, who was looking at him concernedly. "Your phone is off?" he asked, and Blaine furrowed his brows, climbing out of the tub and wrapping a towel around his waist. He picked his phone up from the sink, hitting the button to turn it on, but it was dead.

"We're driving to the hospital right now, Kurt," Rachel continued.

"The hospital?" Kurt hissed, his eyes wide. He glanced back at Blaine whose expression was one of horror. "What—?"

"I—she broke her arm," Rachel explained. "Kurt, I have no idea how it happened, one minute she was fine and then she was suddenly crying—"

"We'll be there in ten minutes," Kurt assured her, and he quickly hung of the phone. He turned back to Blaine, taking a deep breath to make sure his voice was steady. "Get dressed. Ella broke her arm. We're meeting them at the hospital."

"Kurt, Blaine!" Finn quickly called to the two men, and they quickly made their way to him in the hospital waiting room. "She's right down the hall, Rachel's with her and Aiden..." He trailed off, furrowing his brow. "Dude, why do you guys both have wet hair?" Kurt glared at him and Blaine ran a hand through his wet curls anxiously, Finn's eyes widening comically. "Ohhh..."

"Right, I'm gonna—" Blaine gestured down the hall, and Finn nodded.

"Room 212," Finn told him. He turned his attention back to Kurt. "So..." he murmured awkwardly.

Kurt rolled his eyes, settling himself in a chair and glancing at the magazines laying on a coffee table, though nothing caught his eye. He tilted his head slightly trying to ignore his stepbrother and simply wait for Rachel and Blaine to reappear with Ella and Aiden.

"Dude!" Finn hissed, plunking down the the chair next to him and staring at him in disbelief. "Is that a hickey?"

Kurt's hand jumped to his neck, flushing slightly as he glared at the other man. "Could we not do this right now?" Kurt snapped quietly.

"I just—I mean, you both come here out of the shower and you've got a hickey—" He broke off. "I mean, are you two... you know...?"

"It's none of your business," Kurt told him.

"I'm just... I dunno... I guess worried—"

"And I'm worried about the Blaine's niece, who broke her arm under your care," Kurt said vehemently. Finn shifted awkwardly in his seat, and Kurt sighed, pinching his the bridge of his nose. "Look, I know it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for snapping."

"I'm sorry for prying," Finn told him in response.

"And I suppose we'll talk about things later," Kurt grumbled.

Finn smiled once again. "Great."