It’s hot and uncomfortably humid when Blaine enters the laundry room. Artie immediately makes his way towards him, a stern look on his face. Without a word, he motions for Blaine to follow him. Blaine holds the handful of shirts he brought as a pretence to his chest and follows Artie through the room, smiling tightly every time he sees a familiar face.

Finally reaching a door at the back of the room, Artie stops. “Give me that.”

Blaine gives Artie his shirts then enters the room quickly. The smell of detergent and bleach hits Blaine like a wave and he rubs his nose with the back of his hand as he tries to adjust to the darkness of the room. There’s a small window at the top of the wall to his left and the only light it lets in is the orange glow of the streetlamp.

He finally finds Kurt, sitting on an upturned bucket a few feet away from him. Without a word, Kurt gets up and walks to him, pulling Blaine into a tight hug.

“You’re alright,” Kurt whispers when Blaine hugs him back. “I was so worried.”

“Of course I am and I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

“Shut up,” Kurt mutters against his neck, tightening the embrace. “I’m the only one to blame.”

Blaine pulls out of the hug to hold Kurt by the shoulders. “No, you’re not. But neither am I. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

Kurt gives him a small smile. “Why did you apologise, then?”

“For worrying you.”

Kurt clicks his tongue and coos before wrapping his arms around Blaine’s shoulders once more, stepping closer and kissing him lingeringly. “Don’t apologise because I care about you. It’s not your fault,” Kurt remarks coyly before kissing Blaine again, this time with more insistence.

Blaine kisses him back, scraping his tongue on Kurt’s teeth and relishing the pleased hum Kurt lets out.

“I love you,” Blaine breathes out when they pull away.

Kurt’s breathe hitches and he lets out a small chuckle. “I love you, too.” He scratches the back of Blaine’s neck and rests his forehead against Blaine’s.

Blaine feels serene for the first time in months as Kurt holds him close. He feels safe and loved and all the things he made a cross on when he first started disappointing his parents with everything he did.

When Kurt leans in to kiss Blaine again, his cheeks are wet with tears. Blaine breaks the kiss and takes a step back, studying Kurt’s face as best he can in the dim light.

“Are you crying?” he asks softly.

Kurt hums nervously and wipes his cheeks roughly. Blaine gently replaces Kurt’s hand with his and strokes his thumb across Kurt’s cheek before leaning in to kiss the salty skin. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his lips ghosting over Kurt’s skin.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong, Blaine. I’m scared, that’s all. And I’m happy. All at once.” Kurt lets out a derisive laugh.

“What are you scared of?” Blaine strokes the side of Kurt’s head, smiling when the boy leans into his touch and puts his hand over Blaine’s.

“Of what’s going to happen to us. We’ll get killed if we step out of line again.”

“Don’t be silly,” Blaine replies tensely.

“Am I? Don’t tell me this isn’t something you’ve considered after last week.”

Kurt is right. “We’ll figure something out,” Blaine says, trying to comfort Kurt despite the ice cold weight in his stomach.

“I might have an idea,” Kurt breathes out shakily and walks away from Blaine to the end of the room before coming back, twisting his hands. “We run away,” he says quickly in a hushed voice.

“What?!”

“You heard me, Blaine. In a few days, most of the students go back to their families for Christmas. We leave, too, but we never come back.”

“This is completely mad,” Blaine replies. He laughs and shakes his head, looking at Kurt like he has lost his mind. “Where would we stay?” He can’t help asking. Even if it’s mad, if there’s a silver lining somewhere, he has to reach for it.

“I have a house. Well, it’s not mine until I’m eighteen but that’s in May, Blaine. In five months, I own a house, and in the meantime, we can still live there. My father’s wife won’t turn us down.”

“What about my parents?”

“What about them? Would they really care if you disappeared?”

“Ah, yes?”

“Really?” Kurt deadpans. “Are you telling me your father would worry about something else than the money he lost when he put you in this school? If you write to him and explain that you’ve decided to—to take care of yourself without his help, wouldn’t it be enough?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Blaine leans against the door and shakes his head. “You’ve really thought about everything, haven’t you?”

Kurt shrugs, smirking. “Maybe. But yes, before you ask, I’m aware this is the worst idea ever.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically, causing Kurt to chuckle. “So, we’re sort of eloping?”

“Sort of.” Kurt’s face breaks into a grin and he claps his hands. “I can’t believe you’re on board.”

“I can’t believe we’re running away,” Blaine says, laughing in disbelief.

His disbelief fades away when he finds himself sitting on a train to Lima four days later, a letter explaining – lying, blatantly lying – to his parents why he won’t join them for Christmas this year. Kurt is sitting across from him and for the first time, he looks completely calm as he watches the countryside through the window.

“Do you think Artie will ever forgive us?” Blaine asks.

They didn’t dare share their plan with Artie and so had to pretend they would see him soon when they parted earlier that day.

“In time, he will. I don’t think he’ll blame us for doing it. He would leave, too, if he could.”

Blaine nods and shifts his gaze from Kurt’s face to the snow-covered fields scrolling by.

“Who’s the woman we’re going to live with? All you ever told me was that she was your father’s wife.”

“Her name is Carole Hudson. Well, Hummel, now. She and my father got married last fall, before his heart attack. She—What’s wrong, Blaine?”

Blaine realises his surprise must have shown on his face and he tries to shake it off. “It’s just—you never told me what happened to your father.”

Kurt’s face falls and he clears his throat. “Oh. Well, yes, he died of a heart attack last year. He was—Carole wanted to take care of me but my father’s brother refused, saying I shouldn’t be a burden to anyone. That’s why I was sent away.”

“I’m so sorry to hear it, Kurt.” Blaine leans forward to squeeze Kurt’s hand briefly.

“I don’t like talking about it, that’s why I didn’t tell you earlier. We—ah, we were really close, it’d only been me and him after my mother died. It happened so quickly, sometimes I don’t believe it. It’s—I’m alone, now.”

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Kurt gives Blaine a teary smile before taking in a long, shuddery breath. “But let’s not talk about sad things, now. It’s almost Christmas and we’re free.”

“And together,” Blaine adds.

“Yes,” Kurt replies with a smile that lights up his eyes.

The train arrives in Lima in late afternoon. The sun is setting as they start walking from the train station to Kurt’s house; he promised Blaine would take them less than half an hour. It started snowing not long after they left and snowflakes as big as feathers soon filled the air and glistened in the glow of the streetlamps. All around them, people are hurrying back home from work, oblivious to their surroundings or the two boys apparently unable to keep their hands to each other. Sometimes catching themselves, they try to make it look like strictly friendly touches, but anyone paying attention would notice how fingers will linger on cheeks or shoulders.

“It’s like even the weather is celebrating our freedom,” Kurt comments before sticking his tongue out to catch a particularly large snowflake. “Oh, let’s walk through this park! I used to play here with—” he pauses and a shadow passes on his face. “—with a friend. Rachel, her name was.” He shoves his suitcase in Blaine’s hand and starts running.

Blaine follows him, wincing only briefly as he sinks ankle deep in the untouched snow covering the park. Wet feet are the least of his worry when Kurt is standing with his arms outstretched and his face to the sky, looking completely blissful.

It’s like the whole world has been muffled, leaving only the sound of Kurt’s delighted cries for Blaine to hear. Everything is quiet in the way that makes you feel like taking a very long walk outside or bundle up by a fire with a book and a blanket. Blaine feels peaceful for the first time in months.

When Kurt looks at Blaine as he walks up to him, there are several snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes and his cheeks have taken a rosy tint that Blaine can see despite the flimsy orange light of the streetlamps. Kurt grins before scrunching up his face and bending down.

“Oh no,” Blaine says hurriedly when Kurt starts making a snowball. “Kurt—”

Kurt throws it at him, shrieking with laughter when Blaine drops their suitcases and starts running after him. Kurt outruns him from the start and after a few minutes of chasing Kurt through the deserted park, wet and out of breath, Blaine calls out that he surrenders.

Kurt saunters back to him, a large smile on his face. His hair is stuck to his forehead by a mix of sweat and melted snow and he’s panting but he’s positively beaming. Blaine pulls him closer by the lapels of his coat and plants a kiss on his lips, Kurt’s heaving breath hot and humid against his cheek.

“We’re in the middle of a park,” Kurt mumbles after pulling away just enough to articulate.

“No one is paying attention to us.”

Nonetheless, Kurt pulls away and cups Blaine’s cheek with a damp gloved hand. After a few moments of staring into Blaine’s eyes, Kurt wraps his hand around Blaine’s arm and drags him along; first to grab their suitcases and cross the park, then along residential streets until he stops in front of a two-story house. Blaine expects Kurt to walk up to the door and ring the bell but he stays motionless, staring at it with a frown on his face.

“Kurt?”

“What if they don’t want to see me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“They never wrote to me in the year I’ve been away.”

“Maybe they didn’t know what to say and we’re afraid they would upset you?” Blaine strokes Kurt’s back soothingly, giving him a tentative smile. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to have you back, Kurt.”

Kurt bites his lip and nods. With a deep breath, he walks up the stairs leading to the front door. Blaine follows him and squeezes his shoulder briefly when Kurt hesitates to ring the bell.

When he finally does, it takes a few seconds and then a gorgeous blonde girl is opening the door. She pales when she sees Kurt standing on the porch and she brings a hand to her heart.

“Oh my god, Carole! Finn! Come here!” she calls over her shoulder before pulling Kurt into a hug that Kurt returns, dropping his suitcase. “Kurt, I can’t believe it,” she says into his shoulder.

“Quinn, what’s wrong?” a tall guy asks as he appears next to the girl. His eyes widen when he sees Kurt and he breaks into a grin. “Kurt!” he cries happily. “Quinn, let him in, you’ll both freeze to death.”

Quinn lets go of Kurt and steps back, making way for Kurt and Blaine to enter the house. Blaine stays behind, not sure what to do since no one has been paying attention to him.

“What’s all that yelling for?” a woman asks, peaking into the lobby. Her eyes fill with water as soon as she sees Kurt. “Oh Lord, Kurt, honey, are you trying to kill me?” Pushing her way to Kurt, she wraps him into a tight hug. Kurt hugs her back and melts against her, letting out an unexpected sob that prompts her to rub his back. “You should have warned us you were coming! You can’t surprise me like this!”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says in a strained voice, moving out of her embrace and wiping his eyes. He backs away and nearly walks into Blaine, who puts his hand on his back to stop him. Kurt turns to smile at him and steps aside to pull him forward with a hand on the small of his back. “Quinn, Finn, Carole, this is my friend, Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is Carole, Finn, and Quinn.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Blaine,” Carole says warmly, shaking Blaine’s extended hand. “Finn, don’t stand there uselessly, take their coats and luggage!”

They shed their damp coats and scarves, handing them to Finn along with their suitcases. With them in hands, he disappears down the hallway with Quinn.

Kurt’s arm wraps around Blaine’s waist and he’s holding him just this side of too tightly and too close to his side. Blaine feels his heart clenching with panic when Carole’s eyes flicker between them; he can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she puts the pieces together. Blaine tries to move away but Kurt tightens his arm, squeezing his hip reassuringly.

“Why don’t you boys go change out of those dreary uniforms? We were about to have dinner, we’ll wait for you.” Turning to Kurt, Carole bites her lip, some of her cheerfulness dissolving. “You and I need to talk, but not tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Kurt says lightly though he tenses at her words. “But hum—I didn’t even ask—I hope we’re not coming at a wrong time?”

“Now you’re just being silly, Kurt. You are always welcome in your house. Go change and come have dinner.” The warmth is back in her voice and she pats Kurt’s cheek before going back to the kitchen, calling out something to Finn or Quinn that Blaine can’t quite make out.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” Kurt says breezily, lifting his eyebrows as he looks at Blaine. He lets go of Blaine’s waist and takes a few steps out of the hall, looking around. “It feels weird to be back here.”

“I can imagine.” Blaine closes the distance between them and puts his hand on the small of Kurt’s back. “Should we go change?”

Kurt’s eyes linger around him for a second or two before he focuses on Blaine. “Yeah. Follow me.” He grabs the suitcases Finn left at the bottom of the staircase and motions for Blaine to follow him.

They go up a steep staircase, the steps creaking under their feet, and then Kurt stops in front of one of the closed doors. “I haven’t been there in so long,” Kurt says, mostly to himself. Then, turning to Blaine and shrugging, he opens the door. “It isn’t much, but here’s my room.”

Blaine looks around while Kurt sifts around for clothes by opening and closing drawers loudly, rambling about how they’re probably going to be incredibly wrinkled. It’s small and crowded despite only being filled with a single bed, a dresser and a desk but the large window hung with sheer white curtains surely fills the room with sunlight during the day. There’s a picture on the dresser with three people on it; Blaine can’t make out their faces from the distance but he’s ready to bet it’s Kurt and his parents. In the corner opposite the door, there’s a record player on a plain wooden chair, a pile of records neatly piled on the ground next to it. Blaine starts walking towards it to see what Kurt likes to listen to when Kurt steps in front of him, holding a pair of pants and a knitted sweater close to his chest.

“I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can—” He stops and bites his lip. As he looks around the room, his face falls. “It’s almost as bad as our dorm rooms, I know. We’re not—we’re not anything impressive.”

“Hey,” Blaine says, putting his hands on Kurt’s shoulders and squeezing. “Stop this. I love your house. I love your room. I’m sure I’ll your family.”

“They’re not my family.”

“That’s not the feeling I got when they saw you at the door.”

Kurt smiles tightly and shrugs. Blaine rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss him, pressing his lips insistently against Kurt’s until he feels him relaxing. Kurt kisses Blaine back and sighs through his nose before stepping away.

Carole, Quinn and Finn are already sitting at the table when they enter the kitchen. Carole smiles and instructs them to sit as she gets up to fill plates. Blaine’s mouth waters as the smell reaches him and he eyes the steaming cup of tea Quinn puts down in front of him with eager anticipation.

After Quinn says grace, Kurt pressing his socked foot against Blaine’s the whole time, Blaine digs in and lets out a hum of satisfaction. When Carole laughs, he apologises sheepishly.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. I didn’t know I was such a good cook,” Carole says with a smirk.

“It’s just—I missed real food, that’s all.”

“And let’s be honest, everything beats the mystery meat we were served,” Kurt adds. He bursts out laughing when Carole gasps. “But it’s true that you’re really good, you know you are, Carole.”

“I learned from the best.” She winks at Kurt, whose cheeks turn pink.

Blaine doesn’t participate a lot in the conversations. It’s satisfying enough to just watch Kurt interact with people as freely and happily as he is. At one point, Finn says something that makes Kurt laugh until he’s breathless and has to wipe his eyes and Blaine falls in love all over again as he watches Kurt coughing and choking from laughing too hard while blaming Finn for nearly killing him.

After dinner, Carole and Quinn usher the boys out of the kitchen to the living room so they can wash the dishes. Finn disappears towards the back of the house while Kurt sits on one of the couches, nodding his head to invite Blaine to join him.

Blaine sits down and Kurt smiles brightly at him, his eyes crinkling adorably. He pulls his legs up and shifts so he’s sitting with his back against the arm rest, his toes slipping under Blaine’s thigh.

“Cold!” Blaine hisses, causing Kurt to smirk mischievously, taking Blaine’s hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of it before turning it around and pressing his lips to Blaine’s palm, looking at Blaine through his eyelashes the whole time.

Finn comes back, then, a pile of logs in his hands. Kurt drops Blaine’s hand just as Finn glances at them, his eyes lingering on Kurt’s feet tucked under Blaine’s thigh. Finn bites his lip and frowns slightly before heading for the fireplace, where he kneels down and starts working.

Blaine pushes Kurt’s knee playfully when Kurt wiggles his toes. Kurt grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, glancing briefly at Finn, whose head is deep in the fireplace, and pecks Blaine’s nose. Blaine feels a thrill go through his body and he reaches forward to stroke Kurt’s cheek. Kurt closes his eyes and smiles, and Blaine can’t resist the urge to stroke his lips with his thumb. Kurt kisses it, the pressure of his lips feather-light.

Finn hits his head against the top of the fireplace and swears loudly. From the kitchen, both Quinn and Carole say his name at the same time and Finn mumbles an apology while rubbing his skull. The moment is broken and Kurt leans back against the armrest, his eyes lingering on Blaine before he turns his attention to Finn’s struggle.

“Do you need help?” Blaine eventually offers.

“No, I’m fine. The—the thing was stuck, but now it’s not. Thanks, though.”

Finn starts piling the logs he brought in the fireplace while the sound of plates being put away and soft singing can be heard coming from the kitchen. Carole laughs and Blaine feels warmth filling him at the sound. Kurt looks shaken but he snaps out of it quickly.

“Finn,” Kurt drawls, twisting his upper body to look at the boy. “Quinn Fabray, huh?”

Finn shrugs, keeping his back to them. “Ah, yeah. Well, it’s almost Quinn Hudson, now.”

“No way,” Kurt gasps and Blaine is surprised to see he looks upset. “What about Rachel?”

Finn’s shoulders slump and he sighs heavily. “Don’t make me say it, Kurt. You know why I—why I’m with Quinn, now.”

“I want to hear it coming from you,” Kurt says coldly and crosses his arms over his chest. Blaine strokes his leg a few times until Kurt wiggles his toes and pokes his tongue out at him, a frown returning on his face as soon as he brings his attention back to Finn.

“She’s Jewish, Kurt. I can’t marry a Jew, you know that. People would talk.”

Kurt groans and lets his head fall back, uncrossing his arms to rub his face. “You are impossible, Finn. Seriously. Sometimes I swear I could punch you.”

“Fighting already, boys?” Carole says as she enters the room, a plate of cookies in her hands. She seems nonplussed by the argument going on between her son and Kurt and she even winks when she sees Blaine looking at her.

“Your son is an idiot, Carole,” Kurt deadpans, reaching the plate as Carole walk past him. He grabs two cookies and hands one to Blaine.

“You don’t say,” she replies lightly, laughing when Finn huffs in protest. “What has he done, this time?”

“Rachel Berry,” is all Kurt says but the name cuts through the light mood of the room instantly. Blaine squirms uncomfortably as he feels everyone around him tensing. He really wants to be somewhere else now instead of intruding on a clearly very private conversation. As the thought crosses his mind, Kurt brushes his hand on Blaine’s shoulder briefly and smiles softly when Blaine looks at him. He moves his toes again until Blaine smiles back.

“We shouldn’t talk about those things,” Quinn says quietly, her brows furrowed and her eyes fixed on the hearth. Compared to how lively she was earlier, it now seems like every emotion has been drained out of her, weariness slipping through the cracks of a composure her upbringing imposed on her. “There are too many horrible things right now to dwell on them, especially this close to Christmas.”

“You seem to think I haven’t lived my share of terrible things,” Kurt says darkly, his eyes narrowing on the fire.

“You’ve been coddled in that boarding school of yours for too long, Kurt. What do you know about hardship?”

“Yes, keep thinking that, Quinnie,” Kurt deadpans with a wry smile. “But you would know what coddling feels like, wouldn’t you? Do you still have a nanny? Ah, wait, you must call her your maid now that you’re all grown up.”

“I see that they didn’t manage to put some manners into you, Kurt,” Quinn replies icily, her hands clenching in the woollen skirt of her grey dress. “What I meant to say is that while you were out there being treated like a child, some of us had to grow up beyond our years. Don’t parade around acting like you had it hard. You try living in the real world during wartime: that’s hard.”

“That’s some elaborate thoughts you have there, Quinn,” Kurt says flippantly, the hint of a cruel smile on his face. “Was it your personal teacher who put them there or did you for once stop worrying about the colour of your spring/summer wardrobe and had consideration for people that aren’t you?”

“I think you’re confusing me and you, Kurt. We all know why you were sent to that school.”

Kurt turns livid at her words, his jaw clenching and his chin jutting out defiantly. “You should leave, now,” he says in a low voice, his eyes finally moving from the hearth to rest on her.

“I’m not taking orders from you.” Quinn lets out a dry laugh and smiles wryly.

“You are in my house, Quinn. You will take orders from me.”

“This isn’t your house. This was your father’s, and now it’s Carole’s. Sorry to shatter your illusions.”

“This house is mine in five months, Quinn.” Kurt glances at Carole, who has been listening to the argument with an amused smile. She nods reassuringly to Kurt when he says this and his assurance, which had wavered after that claim, comes back at once with his shoulders squaring and his eyebrows rising.

“Yes, and then you’ll be conscripted. This is why Finn and I are getting married. If only you could get married—” she drawls and pointedly looks at Blaine and Kurt, a mean smirk twisting her harmonious features when Kurt’s face falls and he flinches away from Blaine under her scrutinizing eyes.

Under Quinn’s gaze, Blaine becomes hyperconscious of the intangible force that seems to draw him and Kurt together, almost like a lifeline tying them together. Kurt is not looking at him, his eyes focused on a point somewhere to Quinn’s left, but Blaine can feel his dismay as harshly as if it were his own.

“I knew it,” Quinn says under her breath. “Your leanings were made painfully obvious when you turned down Brittany. The nerve you have to come here and bring your—”

“Quinn.” Carole’s voice resonates with authority when she speaks. “If you have nothing nice to say, you should leave. This is Kurt’s house as much as it’s mine and Finn’s, and you will treat him with the same respect as you do us.” She pauses and looks between Kurt and Blaine while Blaine watches Kurt holding her gaze, not daring to look at her himself. “When Burt died, I promised to take care of his son, Quinn,” Carole continues. “And I intend to keep my word. Nothing will change that.”

Quinn presses her lips together until they’re a thin white line and stays silent, her shoulders slumped. The silence stretches until Finn clears his throat and gets up, announcing that he will accompany Quinn home. He knocks over the cookie plate in his haste, spilling crumbs all over the floor. He apologises hurriedly and bends down to start picking them up.

“Don’t bother,” Kurt says, getting up to kneel on the floor and picking the crumbs from between the threads of the carpet.

Blaine joins him, bumping his shoulder against Kurt’s, who barely shrugs and remains broody.

“I’m going to bed, boys. Kurt, Blaine can sleep in the guest room. You’ll just have to change the sheets, okay? Good night.”

They wish her a good night and as she leaves the room, Blaine hears the front door opening then shutting. Kurt, having finished cleaning the crumbs, moves to a sitting position and leans against the side of the couch, his eyes closing as he groans.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” he lets out sullenly.

“Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”

Kurt hums and rubs his eyes. “Welcome home, Kurt! Here, have a spoiled brat’s fit to celebrate!” he says in a mocking voice before laughing dryly.

Blaine scoots closer to Kurt and tries to wrap his arms around him but Kurt shrugs out of the embrace and gets up, dropping the crumbs he was holding in his hand on the plate and grabbing it before turning towards the kitchen.

“Kurt—”

“Let’s go to bed,” Kurt says and he smiles at Blaine but they both know it’s fake.

Blaine follows Kurt in the kitchen and stops him from going away after he puts the dirty plate in the sink with one hand resting on the edge of the counter on each side of Kurt’s waist. Kurt straightens himself to his full height and glares down at Blaine.

“Let me go,” Kurt says coldly.

“You really don’t have to be ashamed.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Kurt replies curtly, dismissing Blaine’s comment with a wry chuckle.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t want you to meet my parents, either.”

“I’m not ashamed of you!” Kurt says and finally, there’s emotion in his voice as his face falls and his glare melts. Kurt grabs Blaine’s face and rests his forehead against his. “I’m embarrassed by Quinn’s reaction, but it has nothing to do with you.” Kurt lets his fingertips stroke Blaine’s neck for a while before he tenses. “Wait, are you ashamed of me? Is that why you don’t want your parents to meet me?”

“No! It’s because of them. They’d be awful to you, Kurt. That’s why.”

Kurt leans back and smiles sadly. “I wish you’d met my dad.”

“Me too. It sounds like he was a great man.”

Kurt nods. “The greatest.”

Words failing him when he sees Kurt’s eyes shining with unshed tears, Blaine kisses Kurt softly to try and wipe the sadness off his features. Kurt’s eyes flutter shut and he exhales contentedly as Blaine presses light kisses on his lips until Kurt giggles and pushes him away.

From the other end of the house, the front door slams shut and Kurt groans, an expression of sadness mixed with anger growing back on his face. Blaine steps back when Finn enters the kitchen, looking cross. He doesn’t do it fast enough, though, and Finn pointedly avoids looking at Blaine.

“Your fianc�e has serious issues,” Kurt snaps in a strangled voice that betrays the fact that he’s still holding back tears.

“Why did you have to mention Rachel in front of her, Kurt? Nothing would have happened if you’d kept your mouth shut!”

“How was I supposed to know? It’s not my problem if you spent the last two years between Quinn and Rachel and that she’s still uptight about it!”

Finn’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been gone too long to have a say in what any of us do, Kurt.”

“No, the real problem here is that I actually have insight into the situation but you refuse to hear what I have to say because it is not what you want to hear.”

“Never mind. I’m going to bed. Some of us are working early tomorrow. Not everyone has the luxury to go to school.”

Finn leaves the room and Kurt waits to hear Finn climbing up the stairs to rub his face with both hands roughly. Moving them away, his eyes fall on Blaine and his chin starts trembling as his eyes fill with water.

Blaine steps forward and hesitantly touches Kurt’s arm. Kurt takes in a deep, shaky breath and forces a smile before wiping his eyes quickly. “I’ll go prepare your bed.”

Blaine gives Kurt a few minutes before he joins him, busying himself with washing the few glasses and dishes strewn in the sink. When he finally climbs upstairs, he orients his steps towards the sliver of light coming from the door to his right, which Kurt left ajar, and pushes it open slowly.

“Hey,” Blaine says. He hesitates in the doorway when he sees Kurt sitting on the bed, folded sheets placed in his lap.

“Hey,” Kurt replies quickly, wiping his eyes and sniffling before looking up. This time, he doesn’t try to force a smile.

Blaine crosses the room and sits next to Kurt. “Are you—”

“No. I’m not. Everything is wrong.”

Kurt doesn’t struggle when Blaine pulls him closer. He shifts and curls up into Blaine’s side, the sheets slipping off his legs to the floor. Blaine holds him tighter, his heart swelling at the sudden vulnerability Kurt shows.

“What do you mean?” Blaine asks against the top of Kurt’s head after planting a kiss there.

“This isn’t how I imagined coming home would be like.” Kurt shrugs and tightens his arms around Blaine’s waist. “I’d hoped—I wished that nothing would have changed and that—that I wouldn’t miss my father so much but it’s like all I can see is how he’s not there.”

“But it’s better than what we left behind,” Blaine tells Kurt hesitantly. He has no idea how to act around Kurt when he’s on the verge of tears and he’s afraid it won’t take much for Kurt to push him away like he did earlier.

“I know,” Kurt whines. “But it’s obvious they don’t want me here.”

“Of course they want you here. You guys only need to remember how it is to live all together. Give it a few days.” Another kiss to the top of Kurt’s head. “And besides, I’m there.”

“I’m so glad you’re there,” Kurt mutters. He straightens up and cups Blaine’s cheek, looking him in the eyes. “Whatever they say about us, that doesn’t change anything for me.”

Blaine feels a pressure behind his eyes and he blinks away the unexpected tears caused by Kurt’s earnestness. “Thank you,” Blaine says through the painful knot in his throat. He clears his throat and laughs shakily.

“Were you worried about it?” Kurt asks and frowns, shifting to sit on his legs and turn to face Blaine. “Because I meant it when I said I love you.”

Blaine tries to swallow but his throat is too tight. He grabs Kurt’s hands and holds them tightly, which makes Kurt smile softly at him. “I love you, too,” he chokes out. “And I know you meant it.” Blaine brings Kurt’s hands up and kisses his knuckles.

“Then what worries you?”

Blaine looks up to meet Kurt’s eyes. In the dim light of the bedside lamps, they look dark blue and are filled with so much fondness and adoration as he looks at Blaine that he finds it hard to hold his gaze. Kurt squeezes his hands and shakes them lightly until Blaine smiles.

“I guess I—I was afraid that I pushed you into this,” Blaine lets out with a dismissive shrug.

“What?” Kurt asks in genuine surprise.

“Well, I kept insisting when you pushed me away. I insisted a lot when I—Kurt?” Blaine frowns at Kurt as he giggles, his eyes crinkling, and all traces of sadness gone.

“Sorry, it’s just—Do you honestly think I ever did it honestly? It was half-hearted attempts to keep you away. I wanted to want to push you away.”

Blaine surges forward to kiss Kurt, humming when Kurt’s hands leave his to hold Blaine’s jaw. Keeping Blaine’s head in place with firm hands, Kurt presses kiss after kiss on Blaine’s lips, sometimes lingering and sucking on Blaine’s lips and sometimes hard enough to bruise, until Blaine groans low in his throat and gently moves away.

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck and presses his face close, nuzzling Blaine’s cheek. “Tomorrow, we’re alone.” Kurt trails his hand from Blaine’s shoulder down his arm and tangles his fingers with Blaine’s. “And I want—” Kurt trails off and presses his lips to the corner of Blaine’s mouth.

Blaine closes his eyes and smiles, tilting his head forward to catch Kurt’s lips in another kiss. Kurt plays with Blaine’s fingers mindlessly as they exchange light kisses that are nothing more than brushes of lips.

“I want you,” Kurt eventually says. “Like that time in the stairs. And more.”

“Yes,” Blaine breathes out. He pulls away to nod at Kurt. “Yes, me too. I want it, too.”

Kurt’s face breaks into a grin that’s only shadowed by the nervousness in his eyes, which wander over Blaine’s face.

“Okay,” Kurt finally whispers. “We should sleep, now.” With one last kiss to Blaine’s lips, he untangles himself from Blaine and scoots off the bed, picking the sheets from the floor.

They make the bed quickly and Kurt leaves Blaine alone to change in his pajamas. When he comes back, he’s wearing his as well and he sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at Blaine with a smile.

“Good night,” Kurt says before pulling the covers up to Blaine’s chin and kissing his forehead.

“Are you really putting me to bed?”

“Shut up, I thought it would be nice. I won’t do it again.” Kurt huffs and his ears turn pink.

“I don’t mind. I think it’s adorable,” Blaine says with a smirk.

Kurt slaps Blaine’s shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Good night, Blaine.”

With one last kiss, Kurt leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

---

Kurt wakes up to the smell of toasted bread and coffee, which quickly reminds him of where he is, dissipating the confusing he awoke to. He can hear the sound of utensils hitting the porcelain plates and he nuzzles his pillow with a sleepy smile, pulling the heavy covers further up his body.

For the first time in over a year, he doesn’t have to be out of bed at a specific time and he fully intends to enjoy this new freedom by staying under his covers until the time has two digits, at least.

Kurt doesn’t go back to sleep but he doesn’t mind, the sounds of Carole and Finn getting ready for their day of work making him feel warm and safe. There’s something inherently comforting in domesticity and routines; the world might be tearing itself apart, Kurt might be an orphan running away from a strict religious school with a clandestine male lover but he knows that downstairs, Finn is eating his usual two eggs-with-three-toasts and drinking a large glass of orange juice as he always has, every morning, no matter what. Carole is reading the newspaper while sipping on a cup of coffee – milk, no sugar – and eating a bowl of oatmeal. She’ll comment on noteworthy news and Finn will hum and nod even though he’s not listening: he’s only waiting to get the sports section.

The Hudsons’ routine existed before they met Kurt and Burt and remained the same after the two Hummels came and went in their lives. Regularity in a world of uncertainty is what Kurt clings to. The sun will rise and set, the seasons will come and go, and no one and nothing will make Finn Hudson eat something else than two-eggs-and-three-slices-toasts in the morning.

Eventually, Kurt hears the front door opening and closing before silence falls over the house. Less than a minute later, the floorboards of the hallway creak and Blaine pushes his bedroom’s door opened hesitantly.

“Good morning,” Kurt greets him from the cocoon he built with his covers, his head barely peeking out from underneath.

“Hey,” Blaine says, his smile radiant as he steps into the room and closes the door. “Can I join you? You look comfortable.”

Kurt nods and stretches, letting out a sound akin to a purr. “It’s a single bed, though.”

“So?”

Blaine walks closer to the bed and then waggles his eyebrows at Kurt until he scoots back and holds the covers up, inviting Blaine in. Blaine climbs on the bed and slips under the covers, laughing when Kurt swiftly puts them back down over the two of them and curls up into his side.

Blaine shifts to his side and wraps his arm around Kurt’s waist as he tangles their legs together. Kurt sighs happily and scoots closer, his arm mirroring Blaine’s. Their noses are pressed together and Blaine lets out a small laugh when he tries to look at Kurt and his eyes cross.

“Are you sleepy?” Blaine whispers.

“Not really.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m not leaving this bed before ten o’clock,” Kurt says sternly.

“But I don’t know where the food is,” Blaine replies in a whine. “And it’s only seven thirty!”

“Who said I would let you leave my bed?”

Blaine grins. “You can keep me in your bed forever, if you want to. I could be your kept boy and you could feed me grapes and wine and I’d be a happy man. I could read you novels and poetry. We’d never have to leave your room ever again.”

“People would talk,” Kurt says pensively, smiling. “‘Have you heard? Kurt Hummel is keeping a boy in his bed and all they do all day is read Shakespeare sonnets and eat fruits. Such debauchery!’”.

“If your definition of poetry is Shakespeare sonnets, I have a lot to teach you. One more reason to keep me here forever.”

“I don’t need reasons to keep you forever,” Kurt says and then, realising his words, hides his face in his pillow. “Ugh, this was so tacky,” he groans with his voice muffled.

“But I appreciate the sentiment and reciprocate it.”

“Oh, my boyfriend is using fancy words this morning,” Kurt drawls.

Blaine stops stroking Kurt’s back and stares at him, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Boyfriend?” Kurt shrugs one shoulder. “I like the sound of that,” Blaine adds, leaning in to press a kiss to Kurt’s nose.

“I like you,” Kurt replies in a coy voice before pushing at Blaine until he lies on his back. Kurt curls up into his side and rests his head on Blaine’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

They stay like that for a long time, relishing in the calm and serenity of the moment. For the first time since they met, they don’t have to be afraid to be together, they can only be without worrying about anything.

Kurt can feel his eyes getting heavy a few times but he fights sleep with all his might. He doesn’t want to waste a minute of the time he has alone with Blaine sleeping. Nevertheless, he’s drifting to sleep and Blaine’s slow and steady strokes on his back are not helping.

“Oh, god, sorry,” Blaine mutters when his stomach rumbles loudly.

“I don’t want to get up,” Kurt whines as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “It’s not even nine yet.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve!” Blaine says cheerfully as he sits up, too. “And we, hum, we have plans for later today, right?”

Blaine’s words shoot straight to Kurt’s groin, making him tighten his fingers in the sheets involuntarily. “We do,” he replies in a low voice before clearing his throat. “Breakfast?”

Kurt gets a kick out of preparing breakfast. He feels like he’s playing pretend because imagining that this will be his life from now on is still surreal. He can’t wrap his mind around the fact that he is now living with Blaine – and Finn and Carole but they hardly matter at the moment – and that he’ll never have to go back to that dreadful school.

Blaine plays right along, acting like a self-important husband as he reads the newspaper and sips on his cup of coffee while sitting at the small kitchen table. He even calls Kurt ‘honey’ and ‘darling’, which never fails to make Kurt flush with pleasure, although if Blaine asks, he’ll say it’s because of the heat of the stove that his face is glowing.

“Thank you, dear,” Blaine says warmly as Kurt puts a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him.

“Don’t get used to this. I am not playing housewife all the time,” Kurt says sharply as he sits down next to him.

Blaine bursts out laughing and presses a kiss to Kurt’s cheek. “Trust me, you do not want to see me behind a stove.”

“Funny, I was just thinking that I’d love to see this,” Kurt replies coyly. “I could teach you, if you want.” And Kurt grins because they can do this, now; they can talk about a future together.

“I’d love that.” Blaine’s voice is warm and soft and Kurt’s skin buzzes with happiness and love. He takes a bite of his scrambled eggs and lets out a groan that sends an entirely different kind of shiver down Kurt’s spine. “Oh my god, you have to explain to me how you made eggs taste this good.”

Kurt giggles and blushes at Blaine’s words. He tries to hide it by staring down at his plate and drinking coffee but when he looks up, Blaine is smiling smugly. “Oh, stop it,” Kurt grunts, rolling his eyes.

“Make me.”

Kurt narrows his eyes before surging forward and pressing his lips to Blaine’s, who lets out a surprised squeal and leans back under Kurt’s momentum. Kurt grips Blaine’s shoulder when he feels him topple backwards, which brings him flush against his chest.

Blaine kisses back hard and lets out a whimper from the back of his throat when Kurt sucks lightly on his top lip. The sound makes Kurt breathe out loudly and he laps at Blaine’s lip. When Blaine keeps his lips resolutely closed, Kurt licks again, this time with more insistence. He kisses Blaine wetly and sucks on his lip again, determined to make the boy part his lips because he feels like his skin is on fire and he needs Blaine to do it.

Blaine pushes at him until Kurt breaks the kiss, licking his lips and pressing them tightly together. “We haven’t brushed our teeth. It’s really gross.” Blaine’s voice is breathy and unusually low.

Kurt lets his hand drag down Blaine’s arm, the muscles shifting under his touch when Blaine brings his hand to Kurt’s waist and squeezes it. Blaine’s hand is warm and his grip almost hurts and Kurt’s skin is tingling all over from that single point of contact. Kurt keeps staring at the buttons of Blaine’s pajama shirt, at the triangle of skin visible thanks to the first button behind undone, and he licks his lips again.

“I—hum,” Kurt stammers to a stop when he realises Blaine is staring at his lips. Shaking his head slightly, he shifts his gaze to the clock on the wall behind Blaine so he isn’t distracted by Blaine’s body. “I’m not really hungry. I’ll go take a shower, alright? You finish eating and then you can shower, if you want to. Just leave the plate in the sink, I’ll deal with it later.”

Blaine blinks and seems to surface from deep within his thoughts at Kurt’s words. “Y—yeah, sure. You do that,” he says slowly, his eyes still locked on Kurt’s lips.

Kurt hurries through his shower – he’s half-hard but if everything goes as planned, something will be done about it soon enough – and he nearly breaks his toothbrush with how hard he brushes his teeth when he gets out. He doesn’t bother doing anything to his hair and puts on a simple white undershirt and trousers. Hopefully, it’ll speed up things once Blaine is ready.

Shouting down the stairs to Blaine that the shower is available, Kurt goes to his room and picks up a book at random. He sits on his bed and tries to read it but his mind keeps wandering to the bathroom ever since he heard the water turn on.

Closing the book with a sigh, Kurt considers pacing the room back and forth until Blaine is ready. He feels like there’s an electric current running under his skin, making him thrum and vibrate. He’s nervous, too; so nervous that he’s shaking. He might have already done something like that with Blaine before but it was spontaneous, leaving no room for his nerves to kick in. This time, though, he’s had hours to think about it, hours to invent thousands of scenarios and hours to anticipate it in a hazy state of aroused frenzy.

Abandoning all hopes to stay calmly in his room, Kurt crosses the hallway and enters the guestroom. He’ll wait for Blaine there and it’ll only make it happen sooner.

The bed is unmade, which occupies him for a few minutes. He’s placing the pillows back in place when he hears Blaine clearing his throat. With a start, Kurt spins around and he sees Blaine standing in the doorway and only wearing a towel around his waist. His wet hair is already starting to curl, droplets keep falling from the tip of the dark strands and Kurt wants nothing more than lick him.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to bring clothes with me. I’ll just—” Blaine lets out bashfully, entering the room and heading for his suitcase. He’s not looking at Kurt and it’s for the best because he’s unashamedly staring with his mouth hanging open.

“You don’t need clothes for what I have in mind,” Kurt says in a breathy voice. He has no idea where that boldness comes from but, judging from the way Blaine’s eyes have visibly darkened when he looks at Kurt, it’s appreciated.

“Oh shit,” Blaine lets out in a groan before walking up to Kurt and taking his face in his hands. “I’m going to kiss you, now. But if you don’t mean what you’ve just said, you should stop me before I start because I won’t be able to stop.”

Kurt rolls his eyes despite his heart beating at an alarming pace. Putting his hands on Blaine’s waist, he slips the tips of his fingers under the towel. Blaine takes in a shuddering breath as goose bumps appear on his skin. Blaine drops his hands from Kurt’s face and settles them on his biceps, looking at Kurt in a mix of awe and anticipation when Kurt takes a step closer; he’s close enough now for the droplets of water still covering Blaine’s skin to wet the fabric of his shirt every time he breathes in. He can feel Blaine’s erection against his thigh and his breath hitches.

“What are you waiting for,” Kurt breathes out, his lips ghosting over Blaine’s. “Kiss me.”

Blaine’s fingers dig into Kurt’s flesh before he leans up to meet Kurt’s lips. Kurt immediately pulls Blaine’s upper lip into his mouth, sucking on it until Blaine growls and tightens his grip. Letting go, Kurt licks into Blaine’s mouth and briefly rubs his tongue against his palate before giving Blaine a chaste kiss and pulling away.

Blaine’s eyes remain closed and he looks like Kurt’s arms are probably the only thing keeping him up at the moment. “Bed?” Kurt mouths against Blaine’s lips, kissing him again.

Blaine gulps before nodding and pushing Kurt backwards. Kurt lets out a chuckle when the back of his knees hit the side of the mattress and he heavily sits down on it, Blaine now looking down at him, his hands still on Kurt’s arms.

Kurt looks away from Blaine’s face and sets his eyes on Blaine’s naked chest. He reaches a shaking hand up and presses it over Blaine’s heart, shaking his head when Blaine puts his own hand over Kurt’s. Obediently, Blaine moves it off and Kurt starts dragging his hands down, teasing fingertips skating across the warm skin. He has to work hard to ignore the fading bruises darkening Blaine’s skin; he feels guilty despite knowing it wasn’t his fault. He doesn’t dare try to figure out what was done to Blaine that dreadful afternoon to make him talk, but Kurt hopes the brownish-yellow bruise he spotted near Blaine’s ribs is the worst mark he has.

Kurt tentatively rubs at Blaine’s hardened nipples with two fingers, eliciting a small moan from Blaine. Pinching them between his forefingers and thumbs, Kurt tugs on them with fascination, letting go all at once when Blaine’s hips jerk forward and Blaine whines.

“Shh,” Kurt hushes him kindly, moving his hands away and downward.

He presses the heel of his palms into Blaine’s stomach, the flesh firm under his touch, and so warm it’s almost uncomfortable. He trails down to Blaine’s navel, which he teases lightly with his thumb, before settling on his jutting hipbones, fingers back near the top of the towel. Now that Kurt’s eyes have followed his hands down, he can see Blaine’s erection tenting the towel and he licks his lips, hands going up and down Blaine’s sides, raising goose bumps in their wake.

Kurt closes his eyes and leans forward, breathing out a puff of warm air against Blaine’s stomach. He twitches and his fingers flex against Kurt’s arms but he doesn’t make a sound. Kurt smiles fondly before kissing Blaine’s heated skin. After a tender first kiss, Kurt trails wet and sucking kisses across Blaine’s belly, licking his navel lightly when he reaches it.

Blaine moans at that and his hands settle into Kurt’s hair, pulling him away. Kurt looks up and his smile disappears when he sees the look on Blaine’s face. He barely has time to brace himself before Blaine is pushing him on his back and climbing on the bed to straddle Kurt’s hips, holding himself up over Kurt on all fours. The front flap of the towel is hanging down, resting against Kurt’s thighs.

Kurt reaches down to it while Blaine dives down to kiss his neck with increasingly desperate hums. Kurt settles his hands on Blaine’s hips and deliberately pulls lightly on the towel, making Blaine sit back on his heels in a blink.

“I want to take it off,” Kurt says, his erection now definitely on the wrong side of uncomfortable in the confines of his pants.

Blaine nods jerkily and climbs off Kurt, walking on his knees across the bed until he can lie down against the pillows. Kurt sits up watches Blaine get comfortable, smiling at the way his fingers start drumming nervously on his stomach when he realises Kurt is staring.

“Good?”

“Yes. Do what you want,” Blaine replies earnestly and Kurt can’t hold back the whine that escapes his throat.

Scooting across the bed until he’s sitting on his knees by Blaine’s hips, Kurt directs his shaking fingers to the towel once more, this time heading for the place where Blaine tucked it in. With one last glance to confirm it’s okay, Kurt pulls the fabric away while biting his lips, his heart hammering in his chest and his entire body tingling.

Blaine squirms to help Kurt take the towel from under him and then it gets thrown to the ground to be forgotten completely. And Kurt stares; he stares because this is better than anything he could have ever imagined and it’s going to take a few seconds for his mind to wrap around the sight.

Blaine’s cock is resting against his belly, fully hard and already leaking precome, making the flushed dark red head shine. There’s a vein running down the length that catches Kurt’s attention and his fingers flex in his lap with the urge to trace it.

“Can I?” he asks shyly, hesitantly moving his hand towards Blaine’s cock.

Blaine lets out a strangled noise that Kurt interprets as a yes and then he’s covering his dick with his hand, his wrist almost touching his balls while his fingertips are splayed up the length. Kurt can feel Blaine’s pulse through the thick vein he is growing obsessive of and he moves his hand down until he can drag his index finger down it, all the while staring in awe.

Blaine is panting and letting out small noises while Kurt keeps rubbing up and down that vein, first with his index finger then with his thumb, pressing down tentatively right under the head. Blaine groans and pushes his hips up so Kurt repeats his action, this time rubbing the spot with his thumb.

“Oh, god,” Blaine says brokenly. “Please—can you—more?”

Kurt closes his finger around Blaine’s cock and gives a tentative stroke. Blaine sighs and closes his eyes, a small smile appearing on his lips. Encouraged, Kurt begins moving his hand up and down Blaine’s length, mimicking what he did the very few times he tried it on himself.

With his free hand, Kurt draws patterns up Blaine’s chest, fingertips ghosting over his flesh, over nipples which he rubs more firmly for a second or two before moving away, all the way up to Blaine’s head. Kurt brushes his index on Blaine’s lips, tracing his smile. Blaine kisses his finger, barely moving his lips, and Kurt moves his hand to cup Blaine’s cheek. His thumb strokes Blaine’s cheekbones and then his eyelashes, which finally causes Blaine to flutter his eyes open.

“Is this good?” Kurt asks and as he hesitates, the rhythm of his hand turns sloppy and irregular so he lets go all at once.

Blaine protests and pouts. “It was! Why did you stop?”

“I wasn’t sure—” Kurt stops abruptly when Blaine wraps his fingers around Kurt’s wrist and tugs him forward, getting up on one elbow to kiss him.

It’s sloppy and intense, Blaine feverishly covering Kurt’s lips with licks and kisses that make his mind reel. Kurt whines when Blaine runs his hand down his side, pressing hard into his flesh and then squeezing his hip tight enough to hurt. Kurt melts into Blaine’s body, shifting to straddle his thigh while Blaine keeps pressing down on the small of his back, only stopping when Kurt is lying half on top of him.

Blaine hisses when Kurt moves and his thigh presses against his cock, the scratchy wool of his trousers dragging on the sensitive skin.

“Sit up,” Blaine says in a low voice, pushing Kurt off him and sitting up at the same time. Without a word, he grips the hem of Kurt’s white shirt and starts pulling it off.

The tables have turned and it’s Blaine’s turn to be bold and forward. He pushes Kurt with a hand on his shoulder so he lies down before working his trousers open and Kurt gasps when Blaine grabs his cock and starts stroking it quickly. His hips buck up and he curls his toes in the comforter, trying to deal with the sudden onslaught of sensations.

“Blaine—” he begins, only to stop and gasp again when Blaine rubs his thumb under the head of his cock, mirroring Kurt’s earlier actions. “Blaine, slow down,” he manages to choke out before keening in a high voice as Blaine cups his balls with his free hands.

Blaine ignores him, instead bending down and licking over his right nipple and wrapping his mouth around it when Kurt whines brokenly. He gives a tentative suck to the sensitive nub, at the same time twisting his wrist on the upstroke, and all Kurt can do is push his fingers in Blaine’s hair and grip the curls tightly, breathless moans leaving his mouth.

“Blaine, please,” Kurt tries again, whimpering as he feels his entire body tensing. “Blaine!” he says with more force and he tugs on Blaine’s hair until he lifts his head and looks at Kurt. “Slow down.”

Blaine closes his eyes and nods. With one last kiss to Kurt’s chest, he moves up until he can lie on his side next to Kurt, one arm under his head. Kurt mirrors his position and smiles in the way he knows makes him look twelve years old but never fails to make Blaine smile back.

“I don’t want it to be over too soon,” Kurt breathes out, his fingers going back to Blaine’s hair to softly stroke it, fingers brushing along the shell of his ear from time to time.

“I can’t help it. Not when I’m with you. I love everything about you.”

Kurt lifts an eyebrow and smirks, feeling coy. He moves closer to Blaine and pushes his knee between Blaine’s. “What do you love most?” he asks coquettishly.

Blaine reacts predictably to Kurt’s question, blushing and looking away. “It’s hard to say,” he finally says in a scratchy voice. Kurt pouts, which makes Blaine laugh. “Your lips. I really love your lips.”

“Really?” Kurt says dryly, the sparkle in his eyes and the blush on his cheeks contrasting with his words. “I didn’t think you were this shallow. I thought you loved my charming personality best.”

“That, too. Even though you were really rude with me the first time we met.”

Kurt groans and closes his eyes in a frown. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine says, leaning in for a brief kiss. “I love your eyes, too. It’s the first thing I noticed. I love your skin.”

“My skin?” Kurt quirks his eyebrow.

“Yes,” Blaine breathes out, letting go of Kurt’s hand to squeeze his hip. “It’s soft and pale and perfect, and I love how easily I can leave marks.” They both look down at Kurt’s hip, where five red spots have appeared after Blaine squeezed once more. “And I love the contrast with my own.”

Blaine drags his hand up and down Kurt’s side, sending shivers all over Kurt’s body. Kurt rolls forward until he can kiss Blaine, his hand holding the back of Blaine’s head while Blaine’s hand moves to press on the small of Kurt’s back, pulling him closer before rolling them around and straddling Kurt’s thigh.

“Also,” Blaine says with a kiss to Kurt’s jaw. “I love that you’re taller and bigger than me.” He groans and nips at the base of Kurt’s jaw, making him keen. “I really love it.”

“I love that you exist,” Kurt says when Blaine starts kissing and sucking down his neck. “I love that I met you. I love loving you.”

Blaine nods against Kurt’s skin while he keeps kissing down his chest. Blaine’s feather-like strokes and warm kisses make Kurt tremble and whine. Kurt breathes out sharply and bucks up his hips when Blaine bites lightly on his hipbone, his broad hands stopping their up and down strokes to hold his waist tightly. A few more kisses across Kurt’s stomach make him squirm – “It tickles, Blaine!” – then Blaine makes him moan loudly with a bold lick up from the base to the head of his cock.

Without further warning, Blaine takes Kurt in his mouth and experimentally sucks on the head. Kurt’s hips buck up again and it pushes his cock farther into Blaine’s mouth, the tip dragging against Blaine’s palate and his tongue pressing on the underside as Blaine jerks back in surprise.

“Sorry!” Kurt says breathlessly, covering his face with his hands.

Wrapping a hand around Kurt’s cock and keeping the other on his hip, Blaine takes him in his mouth once more, this time sinking his head lower and dragging his lips back up once. “Is this good?” he asks, licking the tip when Kurt doesn’t reply immediately.

“Yes, yes,” Kurt breathes out. He keeps his eyes tightly closed; the sight of Blaine in that moment would probably be enough to send him over the edge.

Blaine’s mouth is back on him before he can brace himself and he moans, his hands flying to rest on Blaine’s head, gripping his hair tightly. Blaine starts moving his head up and down and it feels good – amazing, incredible, mind-blowing – but then he presses his tongue on the underside of Kurt’s cock and the roughness of it as he drags along the sensitive skin makes Kurt gasp.

“Oh, that’s great,” he growls, fingers tightening in Blaine’s hair.

“Yeah?”

Kurt can’t stop himself pushing Blaine’s head down when he stops to talk and it makes Blaine chuckle, the vibrations reverberating through Kurt’s body in an exquisite way, his toes curling with pleasure. That’s the moment Blaine chooses to tentatively suck as he moves his head down.

Kurt lets out a broken moan and digs his fingernails in Blaine’s scalp, his legs falling further apart. Blaine does it again, slowly building a rhythm of licking and sucking that sends Kurt’s mind spiralling. For the second time, Kurt feels like he’s on the edge so he pulls on Blaine’s hair until he lifts it.

“Is something wrong?” he asks with a scratchy voice.

“Too much,” Kurt says through his laboured breath. “C’mere.”

Blaine grins and crawls on all fours to go lie on his side next to Kurt. Kurt turns on his side and kisses Blaine slowly, a shiver shaking him when he tastes something sharp and foreign on Blaine’s tongue. With one more suck on Kurt’s tongue, Blaine pulls away and rests his forehead against Kurt’s.

“How did it feel?” Blaine asks.

“I’ll show you.”

Blaine lets out a strangled noise as Kurt leaves his side to swiftly move down his body, planting kisses here and there until he’s kneeling between Blaine’s legs. Hesitantly, Kurt takes Blaine’s cock in his hand. Bending forward, Kurt presses his tongue to the slit, remembering how good it had felt when Blaine did the same.

Blaine lets out a surprised gasp and then grins. His confidence boosted, Kurt takes Blaine in his mouth as deeply as he can before pulling back and licking the tip once more. Once more in his mouth and on the upstroke, he presses his tongue underneath, letting it drag along Blaine’s shaft and pressing it under the head. Getting the hang of it, Kurt starts building a rhythm, no longer taking Blaine’s cock out of his mouth every time, and after a few times, he tries sucking like Blaine did.

Blaine groans and grips the sheets, his legs wrapping around Kurt’s shoulders and his heels digging in his flesh. Kurt keeps going, quickening the pace when Blaine starts moaning and groaning loudly and in his enthusiasm, he lets his teeth drag on Blaine’s skin.

Blaine hisses and squirms away, dropping his legs from around Kurt’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks, panicked.

“Teeth,” Blaine says. Kurt doesn’t have the time to worry he hurt Blaine because Blaine is grabbing his arms tightly and pulling him up, crashing their mouths together as soon as Kurt is precariously holding himself up over him.

Blaine pushes his thigh between Kurt’s and pulls him down with a hand on his back. Kurt lets his legs slide down the bed until he’s lying on top of Blaine, his erection pressed between his stomach and Blaine’s hip. He can feel Blaine’s against his own hip and he rocks forward tentatively.

Both boys moan at the friction and Blaine pushes his hips up to meet Kurt’s, his leg hooking over Kurt’s and pulling him further down.

Still kissing, they begin rocking their hips together, the friction making Kurt whine and keen into Blaine’s mouth while he strokes Kurt’s back, nails digging in every time the angle and pressure is just right.

Kurt’s thighs are sore from the constant strain and he’s trembling all over; his lips and jaw ache from kissing Blaine too hard and he can feel the skin of his back burning where Blaine scratched his nails. Their sweat-slicked bodies stick and slide together and Kurt is so hot he feels like he’s about to catch on fire and that’s when he feels his entire body tightening seconds before he comes, breaking the kiss and gasping out curse words and Blaine’s name.

Blaine strengthen his hold on Kurt’s back to keep him close while he keeps pushing his hips up against Kurt’s and soon after, Kurt can feel the warmth of his come between their bodies, Blaine tensing and trembling underneath him. Kurt kisses him softly when he relaxes back against the mattress and then he rolls off, feeling blissful and sated.

“I’m going to need another shower,” Blaine says after long minutes of silence during which they tried to catch their breath.

Kurt bursts out laughing, giggling so hard he ends up coughing. It takes him a while to calm down but when he does, he gives Blaine a large grin. “Me too.”

Blaine’s eyes light up and he rolls off the bed, extending his hand for Kurt. He doesn’t seem self-conscious at all, despite the drying come covering his stomach and his sweaty skin, or the fact that he’s completely naked. Kurt, on the other hand, feels awkward now that his mind is not fogged up with lust and he reflexively covers himself with a pillow when he sits up.

“Ah, come on, Kurt! I’ve had it in my mouth. Don’t be shy.”

“Do you have to be so crass?” Kurt asks, scrunching up his nose.

“Come on, I want to shower with you.”

Kurt hesitates one more second before taking his hand and letting Blaine guide him to the bathroom. Kurt is thrilled when he realises that he’s walking naked through his house with another boy and when he reaches the bathroom, he’s grinning wickedly.

“So, I never got to finish that thing,” Kurt says as he closes the door behind them.

“What thing?” Blaine asks nonchalantly. It’s clear he missed Kurt’s intent. Kurt rolls his eyes.

“You know…” Kurt drawls, leaning against the counter and downright leering at Blaine.

“No?” With that, Blaine bends forward to start the water and Kurt loses his train of thought at the sight of Blaine’s naked ass. He takes a few steps forward and stands behind Blaine, debating whether it would be creepy to reach out and grope it.

Kurt does it anyway, causing Blaine to yelp and straighten up. “Okay?” Kurt breathes in his ear before licking the lobe.

Blaine clears his throat. “Y—yeah,” he rasps out.

Kurt adds a second hand and starts massaging the plump cheeks. His thumbs meet at the top of the cleft and Kurt leans forward to press a kiss to Blaine’s shoulder before dragging his thumbs down the crack of Blaine’s ass, pressing them in and spreading the cheeks apart until he reaches the crease of his thighs.

Blaine is breathing hard, his knuckles turning white from gripping the shower curtain. Kurt moves his right hand off Blaine’s ass and reaches between his legs, his fingertips brushing against Blaine’s balls while his left arm wraps around Blaine’s shoulders possessively. Blaine lets go of the shower curtain to hold Kurt’s arm with both hands when Kurt starts dragging his fingers back along Blaine’s perineum, pressing in until he feels Blaine’s hole.

Pressing even more, Kurt pushes the tip of his middle finger against the ring of muscles. It’s like an electric current runs through Blaine and he jerks away, turning around and looking at Kurt with wide eyes.

“Too much?” Kurt asks sheepishly.

“Yeah.” Blaine’s voice shakes and he clears his throat as he rubs the back of his neck.

He’s half-hard nonetheless and Kurt is getting there, too, so he grabs Blaine’s shoulders and stirs him into the bathtub, following after him and turning on the showerhead before crashing their mouths together.

The shower only ends because they run out of hot water. Kurt comes twice, once almost in Blaine’s mouth and the next time all over Blaine’s back after they blushingly decided to try Kurt’s dick between Blaine’s ass cheeks, which started awkwardly but ended up with both boys moaning loudly and coming almost at the same time. Blaine looks like he wants to keep going after they washed up but then the water turns icy cold and ruins the mood for good.

They spend the rest of the day by the fire in the living room, reading books or watching the snow fall while drinking cup after cup of tea and hot chocolate. They don’t need to talk or sit close to one another; being in the same room is enough and the brief glances and smiles they exchange from time to time are worth a thousand kisses. The radio is dimly playing Christmas songs in the background.

Carole and Finn come home sometime after five o’clock, exhausted by their day of work but smiling at the prospect of a day off in the middle of the week. They all give Carole a hand with cooking – Finn grumbles that it’s a woman’s job until Kurt stares him down – and eat in a cheery atmosphere.

“Why don’t you boys go in the living room while Kurt and I do the dishes?” Carole offers once they’ve all but licked their plates clean.

Kurt feels a weight drop in his stomach and he watches Blaine and Finn leave while he gathers the dirty plates to bring them by the sink. Once he’s there, Carole hands him a towel and fills the sink, humming quietly to herself, which only worsen Kurt’s apprehension.

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” she asks lightly, the tension in her shoulders betraying her real state of mind.

“I don’t know, do I?” Kurt asks just as lightly, smiling innocently when she looks at him.

“Kurt, you may only have been my son for a year and lived away for more than half of that time, but I know when my sons lie to me.”

Kurt swallows back a gasp, his breath nonetheless hitching. Clearing his throat, he grabs the plate Carole hands him and focuses on drying it so his voice doesn’t fail him. “I’m not going back there,” he says in a low voice.

“Isn’t that a bit overdramatic? It can’t be that bad, honey.”

Kurt shakes his head, swallowing hard. “And neither is Blaine. We—they—” Kurt clears his throat again. “Did you know the worst part of flogging isn’t the whipping itself but the weeks it takes to heal?”

Carole’s reaction is Kurt’s undoing. She drops the glass she’d been washing in the sink, splashing water all over the counter and her apron, to hug Kurt tightly. “Oh, sweetheart. I thought it was for the best, sending you there, that it would keep you safe while you recovered from your dad’s death. I never thought—”

“It’s not your fault, Carole. You couldn’t change my uncles’ minds. They would have found a way to send me away no matter what. But—” Kurt pauses and breathes in deeply. “They’re going to kill us if we go back,” Kurt chokes out into her shoulder. “I’m so scared. Not for me, but for Blaine. I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. He’s too good—he’s—I can’t let that happen to him, Carole. I can’t let them turn him into me.”

“Why would they hurt Blaine?” Carole asks, stepping back to hold Kurt by his shoulders.

Kurt wipes his eyes and nose quickly then stares at her. “You know why.”

Carole smiles sadly and nods. “Of course I do,” she says and tightens her fingers around Kurt’s shoulders. “But I don’t love you any less for it.”

“Thank you,” he replies, barely any sound leaving his tight throat. He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes again.

“What about Blaine’s parents?”

“They don’t care. He says they will, but who willingly sends their son there if they care about him?” Kurt says darkly, mindlessly wiping the counter with his towel.

“Do they know he’s here?”

“He wrote to them saying he wouldn’t come over for Christmas.” Kurt shrugs.

“But they’ll notice when he doesn’t go back to school.”

“I think as long as he’s not a burden for his father, he won’t care.”

Carole nods and goes back to the sink. “I’ll pretend this sounds logical for Christmas’ sake. I’ll be a responsible adult on the 26th.” Carole winks and flicks suds at Kurt, who gasps indignantly and elbows her.

Before they leave the kitchen, Carole stops Kurt and hugs him again, rocking them sideways until Kurt laughs and kisses her cheek.

They spend the hours leading to Christmas High Mass listening to Carole’s embarrassing stories about Finn with the radio playing in the background. Kurt hasn’t listened to the radio in years and only now does he realise how much he missed music.

The three boys make Carole laugh until she cries when they start singing along to Adeste Fideles; well, Finn and Blaine sing it while Kurt tries to get Blaine off the furniture and it only makes Carole laugh harder when Blaine ignores Kurt, using his shoulder as support as he moves from the couch to the coffee table. He eventually joins Carole’s laughter, unable to resist the faces Blaine and Finn make.

Blaine collapses on the couch after the song, breathless and wiping away tears of laughter, and if Kurt leans into his side in a less than subtle way, he’ll blame the eggnog and the quantity of rum he spotted Finn pouring in it.

Later, when the alcohol has made them feel lazy and careless, Kurt and Blaine sing over Baby It’s Cold Outside in an overtly flirty way and Kurt feels his heart expand at the way Carole looks at them, eyes fond, acceptance obvious in every smiles and laughs she lets out.

At eleven o’clock, the Fabrays ring the doorbell and Carole invites them in for a drink. Kurt and Blaine escape the soon-to-be family reunion and head for their rooms to change.

“Mass,” Blaine says with a sigh when he walks into Kurt’s room without knocking, dropping on his bed and holding a pillow to his chest.

Kurt hums, holding two vests in front of him while looking in the mirror as he tries to decide which one to wear. “Which one?”

“The black one,” Blaine answers before sighing again and throwing himself on his back, making the bed bounce under his weight.

“I am getting the feeling you’re unhappy about something,” Kurt says with a smirk as he puts the vest on and then starts looking for a tie.

“It’s just. Mass. Christmas Mass.”

“What about Mass, Blaine? You went every Sunday without a problem for months.” Kurt hums to get Blaine’s attention to the two bow ties he’s holding.

“Red. And I know I have, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

Kurt shrugs. “What else is there to do on Christmas Eve?”

“Drink eggnog and cuddle by the fireplace?”

“Ah, but then you would miss all the gossip on the people in this parish,” Kurt says as he climbs on the bed and pulls Blaine upwards, clicking his tongue as he takes in the way Blaine tied his bow tie. “Did you do it with your eyes closed?”

“How can you have gossip on people you haven’t seen in a year?” Blaine asks, pushing his chin up to let Kurt tie his bow tie right.

“I don’t, but my friend Brittany does.”

“I’ve heard her name before.” Blaine looks down at Kurt, his head still bent back causing his eyes to cross adorably.

“Quinn mentioned her last night. I was expected to fall in love and marry her, but that was never going to happen. She’s in love with her maid.”

“No way.”

“It’s Lima’s worst-kept secret. Well, that and my taste in lovers. Shh,” Kurt says, mockingly hushing Blaine with a finger on his lips.

“Well, I personally quite enjoy your choice,” Blaine replies with a smirk.

“Do you, now?” Kurt crawls closer, loosely wrapping his arms around Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine sits up on his knees and his hands immediately go to Kurt’s waist, holding him tightly.

“Yeah.” Blaine’s voice is nothing more than a breath, which ghosts over Kurt’s lips in a very pleasant way. He then closes the gap, pressing their lips together firmly.

Kurt parts his lips into the kiss and tightens his arms to bring Blaine closer, eyes fluttering shut and heartbeat quickening almost instantly. Blaine lets out a tiny whimper when Kurt scratches the nape of his neck and darts his tongue out to lick his upper lip.

It’s with reluctance that Kurt pulls away, groaning that he has to be a good guest before sauntering out of the room. He might not be happy about it, but if he fakes it hard enough, maybe he’ll be able to play the part.

Plastering a smile on his face, he enters the living room and greets the Fabrays, exchanging pleasantries like his mother taught him years ago, before his manners got roughened from living alone with his father and he had to teach himself from watching the adults around him.

Quinn grabs Kurt’s arm when they step outside, stopping him at the bottom of the stairs. Blaine glances at the pair of them and Kurt shrugs, motioning him to go with the others. Quinn only starts walking when they’re out of earshot of everyone else, keeping her pace slow and her eyes cast down.

“Quinn—”

“I owe you an apology.” She looks up at Kurt, her green eyes darkened by a frown.

“It’s okay, Quinn.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not. I feel terrible. I’ve always respected you, Kurt, but I didn’t act the part last night. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret it, Quinn. I’ve heard worse.” Kurt lifts his chin unconsciously, his defence mechanisms kicking in despite himself. “I’ve thought worse of myself. This isn’t something I chose, you know.” He can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice as he gives her a sardonic smile.

The only sounds coming between them for a while after that are the creaking of snow under their feet and the voices and laughter of other families. The streets are filled with merry voices and cheers as the neighbourhood makes its way towards the church for High Mass and Kurt wonders how many families will be mourning, soon. He wonders how many smiles are faked to try and ignore the horrible anxiety and terror that must occupy their thoughts at all time. How many of those kids will end up fatherless before New Year, how many more before Easter? Maybe both his parents dying from sickness wasn’t so bad, after all. He got to say goodbye.

“Never mind what the facts are, I shouldn’t have said those things to you. And it’s even worse that I did it in front of your family.”

Kurt swallows and blinks back tears before clearing his throat. He’s not thinking about his orphan state on Christmas Eve, not when a boy he loves probably too much is only a few paces ahead of him.

Speaking of Blaine, “I’m most upset that you said it in front of Blaine,” Kurt tells her coldly.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“I love him like you miss Rachel,” Kurt answers and Quinn nods. A few seconds later, she’s sniffling and holding Kurt’s arm tighter.

“Well, well, well, if that isn’t Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt’s head whips around when he hears Santana’s drawling voice and he grins when he sees Brittany and her walking towards them.

Quinn has to let go of Kurt’s arm when Brittany lurches forward to hug him, the sheer force of the embrace threatening to send them both to the ground. When she lets go, she takes his arm and then greets Quinn, who only raises her eyebrows in acknowledgement.

Kurt pats her arm and she mumbles something about Finn before walking away. When she walks past Blaine, he stops and looks back at Kurt, Brittany and Santana, waiting for them to catch up with him.

“Who’s that?” Brittany asks excitedly when she notices Blaine.

“A friend,” Kurt drawls, smirking and taking Santana’s arm, despite the annoyed click of her tongue.

“A friend like Santana is my friend?”

“Something like that.”

“I doubt it,” Santana replies.

“Try me.” Kurt puts his chin up, smirking as he looks down his nose at Santana’s changing expression. She goes from frowning to smirking, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Good for you, Hummel. Good for you. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

And maybe it’s the rum still clouding his mind or the genuine acceptance of Santana and Brittany, but Kurt doesn’t censor himself. “Not quite yet, no.”

Santana throws her head back and cackles, earning herself a confused look when they reach Blaine.

The introductions are awkward and it’s like Santana is trying to make Blaine uncomfortable at all costs. Within two minutes, he’s blushing and pushing his hands deep inside the pockets of his coat, his head bowed down to look at his feet.

“Santana, give him a break,” Kurt scolds with a smile. “Blaine isn’t accustomed to your brand of crazy, yet.”

“Oh!” Brittany’s cry cuts whatever snarky reply Santana was about to spit. “Oh my god, Mr. Schuester and Miss Pillsbury came together!”

And this starts a string of gossip that only ends when they part at the entrance of the church. Kurt finds out all about Miss Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester’s not-so-secret relationship, about how the Evans’ sons has been seen with the Fabrays’ maid on more than one occasion; Brittany lowers her voice as they walk by the Mottas, whispering about the rumour that Mr. Motta is part of a mafia and then pouts when she tells them that the Flanagans are about to get deported to Ireland. When she runs out of fresh gossip, she starts catching Blaine up with everything that ever happened in Lima, only faltering when she gets to Quinn and Rachel.

“Ah, that one is complicated,” Kurt cuts in, glancing nervously at Quinn and Finn, who are only a few steps ahead of them. “Let’s not rehash old stories.”

“That’s what we’ve been doing for the last fifteen minutes,” Santana replies dryly. She narrows her eyes at Kurt. “I don’t see why it’s different for those two.”

Kurt wants to reply that none of the other people have disappeared without leaving a trace; he wants to snap at Santana that she knows how damaging that kind of gossip is, they’ve both lived it firsthand, and they should show some solidarity. He wants to tell her all that, but the only thing that comes out is: “Santana, it’s Christmas Eve. Show some humanity.”

Santana rolls her eyes and lets go of Kurt’s arm, crossing her arms over her chest and squaring her shoulders.

“Come on, Santana,” Brittany says hurriedly. “We have to get inside. I don’t want to miss the beginning, whenever I stop paying attention I don’t understand what they say. I think it’s God punishment for not listening.” Turning to Blaine, she explains: “I always fall asleep when we have to pray.”

Watching them go, Blaine feebly says ‘that would be because it’s in Latin?’ and Kurt laughs it off with a shrug.

“That’s Brittany for you.”

“Do you have friends that are not crazy?”

“Do you include yourself in this?”

“Would it change the answer?”

“No.”

Blaine laughs and pushes at Kurt’s shoulder playfully, and they both know that this uncommon gesture is for show. Kurt laughs – it’s forced and it sounds fake to his own ears – and then he turns on his heels to face the church.

It’s a tall and imposing building, looming over its surroundings, like an ever-present reminder that they are being watched framed in ridiculously out of place Victorian architecture. Kurt always found it tasteless and used to openly mock it back when his life wasn’t upside down, but now as he stands at the entrance, mockery is the last thing on his mind.

“First time going in there since my father’s funerals,” Kurt says lightly, punctuating his words with a chuckle.

Blaine frowns and brushes his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, fingers flexing against the wool of his coat briefly before returning to his side.

Memories flood his mind as Kurt walks in, taking his breath away like a punch to the stomach. Nothing has changed, the only difference between the funerals and now the pitiful Nativity scene. Kurt nearly bursts out laughing when the baby starts crying loudly when Finn approaches but a glance to the altar is enough to make his breath short once more.

“I thought I was over it,” Kurt whispers to Blaine, leaning in as much as he dares while they make their way to an empty pew, following Carole and the Fabrays. “But I’m not.”

“We can leave, if you need to. You only have to ask and we’re out of here.”

Kurt looks at Blaine before he slides down the pew and his eyes are open and earnest, boring into Kurt’s and making him feel like Blaine knows and understands better than himself what he’s thinking and feeling right now. Blaine smiles when Kurt’s eyes linger and Kurt returns it, mouthing ‘thank you.’

The seconds stretch and then it’s too much, they’ve stared too long and Kurt is hyperaware of the whispers coming from behind him as he moves down the pew to sit next to Finn. He chances a glance over his shoulder when he hears his name pronounced barely above a breath and sees the woman living two houses down from him animatedly conversing with the seamstress he used to go to for his school uniform, two women who have known him for as long as he can remember.

“Calumny is a sin, you know,” Kurt tells them without a greeting.

“That’s why we’re only talking about things that are true,” his neighbour replies curtly, her eyebrows rising. Kurt never liked her, as a child he would cry whenever his mother asked her to look over him for an hour or two while she ran errands, and he can’t stop his polite smile from turning into a sneer before he turns her back to them. Blaine touches his knee and Kurt squeezes his hand briefly.

The church is already too warm before the ceremony begins, and with the number of candles lit up all around them, the temperature is only bound to rise higher. It was warm at his father’s funerals, too, but all Kurt can remember is how cold he felt for weeks after Burt died.

Kurt is itching to hold Blaine’s hand five minutes into Mass. He needs Blaine’s warm hand as an anchor so he can get through it without losing his mind. He can feel the glances, can see people craning their necks around to catch a glimpse of the Hummel boy, back from the dead and there with a date. It was foolish to assume that showing up at Christmas High Mass with Blaine – a boy no one has ever seen before – wouldn’t draw attention, and even if Kurt wants to ignore them and pay attention to the ceremony, whenever he sees the altar he can see his father’s coffin in his mind.

His brows furrow when he thinks of all those times his father would mutter comments during High Mass to try and entertain Kurt, always the same ones, and every cue in the sermon is like a spike driven through his heart. Kurt takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. He won’t let himself cry in front of those people. He readjusts his bow tie and pulls on the collar of his shirt.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks in a breath as the rustle of people moving to kneel down covers their conversation.

Kurt shakes his head. “I can’t do this, Blaine.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Kurt licks his lips and frowns, staring at the back of the pew in front of him. The kneeler is making his joints ache and there’s sweat rolling down the back of his neck. The smell of incense is too strong and the priest droning in Latin in front is the same who officiated the funerals and this is when he snaps and nods.

“Okay, yes. Let’s get you out of here,” Blaine whispers in a soothing voice.

There’s a beat as they wait for people to get back up and then he’s politely asking Carole to move, hand around Kurt’s wrist to drag him out in the aisle and then down towards the door, their footsteps loud and all eyes on them and then Kurt is standing outside in the crisp night air and he inhales sharply in a shuddery sob.

Blaine lets him cry for a few minutes before he comes closer, his movement betrayed by the creaking of the snow under his feet. He drapes Kurt’s coat over his shoulders and then grips them, stroking up and down in silence as Kurt tries to calm down enough to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt finally chokes out, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, a childish thing he hasn’t done in years, before turning on his heels to face Blaine. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Kurt.”

Kurt shrugs and rolls his eyes, putting on his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck when a shiver shakes him. “It’s not like it’s the first Christmas without him. Last year was hard but I wasn’t here and this is just—it’s torture, Blaine. It’d take the physical punishments you caused me a thousand times over this.” Blaine winces and Kurt’s eyes widen as he realises what he’s just said. “No, oh god, not like that, I’m so sorry.”

“I know what you meant,” Blaine says dismissively, stepping forward to tentatively lay his hand on Kurt’s arm. “Want to go home?”

Kurt nods, wiping his eyes quickly, the tears already crystallising in his eyelashes because of the cold. Blaine takes his hand and starts walking, pulling Kurt along until their steps synchronise.

They don’t talk and Kurt appreciates Blaine’s silence. It stopped snowing but everything around them is covered in a thick layer that’s ankle-deep where they’re walking in the middle of a quiet residential street. Their footsteps are muffled and everything is eerie, like they’re the only two persons awake in the world.

Blaine is the one who turns on the lights when they enter the house after stubbing his toe into a wall.

“No, leave them off. I’ll guide you to your room,” Kurt says feebly. Crying gave him a headache and all he wants now is go to bed and wake up in January.

Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand and makes his way upstairs slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness halfway there.

“I’ll find my way, now. Thanks,” Blaine whispers before pulling him into a hug. “You’re going to be fine?”

Kurt nods and promises he’ll be alright and then Blaine is gone, leaving Kurt alone in his room. He lasts ten minutes in bed before he’s scrambling across the hallway and into the guest room, entering without knocking.

Blaine sits up immediately and turns on the bedside lamp. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Kurt inwardly groans at how small his voice sounds. “I can’t—not tonight. Please.”

Blaine blinks sleepily and nods, rubbing at his eyes and scooting to the other side of the bed. “Of course.” He holds the covers up, inviting Kurt, and he climbs in quickly, shutting the light before lying down.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispers, feeling Blaine press his chest to his back and wrap his arm around his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He nuzzles behind Kurt’s ear before pressing a kiss there and cuddling closer.

Kurt shrugs and covers Blaine’s hand with his, pushing his fingers between Blaine’s and tightening. “I thought it’d be nice to come back here but all I can see is how he’s not there. He was my entire world and then one day he wasn’t there anymore and I was left to try and figure out what I was supposed to do next. But instead of finding a way to live, I think I just stopped and let life happen around me, you know?”

Blaine hums and presses a kiss to the back of Kurt’s head, tangling their legs and pulling him even closer.

“I never believed in anything but in my father and I, and what we had, so when I didn’t have that anymore, I had nothing.”

“And religion was a good alternative.”

“Not a good one, but it was there. It was offered to me and it was so easy to just hang on to this thread instead of drifting in nothingness. Coming back here, I have to face what I hid from. It’s like all my emotions want to happen at once and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m sorry that all I’ve been doing since we arrived here is cry. It must be terrible for you.”

Blaine either shakes his head no or nuzzles the back of Kurt’s head, he can’t tell, and Kurt sighs again.

“I’m terrified of my parents’ reaction,” Blaine murmurs after a while. “They won’t be happy. I—ah. I pretended like it was not a big deal to run away with you because I wanted to but my parents—”

“They can’t do anything to you.” Kurt feels a weight settle in his stomach when he realises how egocentric he’s been. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Dragging you into this. It was selfish of me.”

“No, Kurt, you didn’t drag me into anything. I followed you willingly. And I heard you talk with Carole earlier.” Kurt blushes and turns his face into the pillow even though Blaine can’t see him. “You really did this so I wouldn’t get hurt?”

Kurt shrugs and presses his lips together. “You’re all I have. Literally.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“I know.”

“I love you,” Blaine says against the skin of his neck.

Kurt smiles and brings Blaine’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. “Love you, too.”

Kurt drifts in and out of sleep until the front door slams shut. Behind him, Blaine is fast asleep, his breath deep and loud. Kurt smiles at the sound while he listens to the bits of conversation he can hear through the floor. The voices eventually get nearer until they come from right outside the room.

Kurt keeps his eyes closed and tries to stay motionless when Carole peaks in. The light from the hallway is pouring in the room and he has a hard time not squinting against it.

“Mom?” Finn asks too loudly. “Is something wrong?”

“Quiet, Finn. Let them sleep,” Carole hisses. The door creaks as she pulls it close.

“Wait, them?”

Kurt waits for the click of the door shutting close but it doesn’t come so he risks opening one eye to peak through his eyelashes. Finn and Carole are standing in the doorway, watching the bed. Carole is smiling but Finn is frowning, a mix of confusion and unease on his face.

“Go to bed, Finn,” Carole says tiredly before closing the door and walking away.

Finn keeps talking but Kurt can’t quite make out the words as he starts falling asleep again, pressing back against Blaine and feeling him tighten his arm around his waist.

---

Christmas is a mess through which Kurt and Blaine navigate with the help of spiked eggnog and red wine. Every minute of it is tinted with unease and discomfort, from Finn nearly walking in on Kurt and Blaine making out to tell them breakfast is ready, to Mr. Fabray’s alcoholic mother spilling the bowl of punch all over Quinn’s sister’s white dress and her husband making distasteful comments every time he’s in the same room than Kurt.

“That’s where you went,” Blaine says with relief when he reaches the second floor of the Fabrays’ house and finds Kurt sitting on the top stair, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“Sorry I abandoned you down there. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“I can’t blame you. He’s a jerk,” Blaine says through a sigh as he sits down next to Kurt.

“It’s not just him. It’s everything. I want today to end.” Kurt leans into Blaine’s side, resting his head on his shoulder.

“It’s not every day you hear someone who wants Christmas to be over.”

Kurt shrugs and straightens up before reaching behind his back and retrieving a glass of wine. He takes a long sip and stares at the burgundy liquid in the delicate crystal glass. “This can’t be my life.” Blaine hums, prompting Kurt on. “I can’t do mundane interactions. I can’t pretend to like people I hate. I mean, I can and I’m good at it, but I don’t want to do it.”

“You don’t have to. Nothing keeps you in Ohio.”

“But where would I go?”

“Anywhere you want.” Blaine bites his lip, hesitates. “Anywhere we want.”

Kurt looks away from his glass to grin at Blaine. “We could go to California. To Hollywood.”

“We could.” Blaine pushes his leg against Kurt’s and Kurt scoots closer until they’re pressed from hip to ankle.

“Or New York.”

Blaine looks at Kurt, then, because his voice has changed. There’s a different tone to his voice, like hope maybe, or longing.

“Or New York,” Blaine repeats, nodding. A smile grows on his face as he starts properly thinking about it. “New York sounds good.”

They spend the next hour making plans in hushed, excited voices, like children planning to misbehave. In that moment, their future seems bright and promising, and they don’t care that soon people will start looking for them and there’ll be barely disguised disapproval and disgust to find them together.

Hurtful comments will be made, which will lead to a fight with Finn and more tears from Kurt. Blaine will hold him close as he cries into his neck while they hide in the kitchen, the door guarded by a plump maid who keeps glancing at Kurt like she wishes she could comfort him.

Roles will be reversed a few days later after Carole sternly ordered Blaine to call his parents and they show up on their doorstep, requesting to talk to their son in private. The conversation will last for too long, exhaust the three Andersons and will go in circles until the forced calm will snap and everything will fall apart. It’ll be the last time Blaine ever sees his parents and he’ll spend the evening between crying and panicking as it sinks in that he’s now an orphan, his father claiming he only has one son now before storming out of the house, his mother looking at Blaine one last time with teary eyes as she follows her husband.

Kurt will hold Blaine through it, whispering soothing words in his ears and promising Blaine that their life will be a thousand times the Andersons’ and that his father will regret disowning him when he sees what his son has become. It will take Blaine a few days to start smiling again and many months to fully recover.

No, in that moment, nothing matters as they build dreams in common over a shared glass of wine, daring to hope for a brighter future that seemed impossible days earlier.

---

“Oh my god, Rachel, get out of the kitchen!” Kurt growls and slaps her with the back of the wooden spoon when she once again tries to steal a slice of cucumber. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, go bother Jesse and leave me alone.”

“It’s Puck this week!” Puck yells from the living room and Kurt rolls his eyes. It’s a good thing he stopped trying to keep up weeks ago.

It’s been a year and a half since they first discussed going to New York and Blaine was disowned by his parents. Things seemed to unfold all at once after that, a letter from Rachel arriving in mid-February inviting them to join her because she was about to move to a bigger apartment and wanted to save on the rent by splitting. They found out months later that it was Quinn who wrote to Rachel about them through their almost weekly correspondence.

Three months later, they were stepping into their new apartment for the first time, Blaine pushing past them to claim the room with the best view – incidentally, it’s also the smallest so their bed is the only piece of furniture that fits in – and Kurt hasn’t even shut the door that Rachel is already talking about curtains and carpets.

They were barely settled when Rachel’s lover of the week first came over, nearly shocking Kurt into a heart attack when he recognised Noah Puckerman. The sentence ‘of all the Jews in all of New York’ was pronounced at some point between their first and third bottle of cheap wine and it was voted the worst sentence to ever be said, ever, and Kurt was ordered to wash the dishes for the next week to punish him for butchering something out of Casablanca.

Then, the next week, there was Jesse St. James who moved in for three weeks and barely did anything, eating their food and complaining about the noise when they disturbed his nocturnal lifestyle. The cycle started all over again two months later until Kurt snapped and threatened to drown him in the toilet tank if he didn’t get his parasitic ass out of his house. Jesse was back a month later.

They don’t have enough money, every end of the month a struggle to decide whether they’d rather eat or pay the rent, but they’re young and free and nothing matters for longer than a day. No one says a thing about Kurt and Blaine sharing a room, or cuddling on the couch as they listen to Kurt’s records, or kissing when they think no one is looking. Puck did make a comment or two at first but it was excused as good-natured until it actually was, his remarks punctuated with fond eye rolls. As for Jesse, it would require him to care about something else than himself, so he probably didn’t even notice, and Rachel calls them ‘my boys’ and insists to give them one evening alone every week.

Kurt leans against the sink and looks outside the window as he waits for the chicken to be ready. It’s early in the month, the rent is paid and Rachel got paid the equivalent of three months’ worth of singing in cabarets so they’re treating themselves to an actual meal. Blaine ran out half an hour ago to go buy wine and dessert, and they plan to go out in the evening to see their friend Tina sing at their favourite bar. With a disbelieving chuckle that this is his life, Kurt checks on the chicken, a mouth-watering scent filling the kitchen when he opens the door of the oven.

From the living room, he hears Blaine calling him into the living room excitedly.

“Hey!” Blaine says cheerfully when Kurt enters, his eyes bright and his cheeks red with excitement.

“Hi?” Kurt replies curiously, narrowing his eyes and taking the groceries bag Blaine is holding.

“Blaine has some big news for us but he won’t say what it is,” Rachel complains, glaring at Blaine.

“I needed Kurt to be here, too. It’s some pretty big news so you might want to sit down.” Still looking at Blaine like he lost his mind, Kurt sits on the arm of the couch and raises his eyebrows. Blaine is nearly vibrating as he looks at them with wide eyes. “Okay, ready? We won! The war is over! People are celebrating in the streets and the third floor neighbour told me it’s crazy on Times Square right now!”

The blood drains from Kurt’s face as Blaine’s words sink in, numbness settling in his limbs. Rachel shrieks and jumps up, running to hug Blaine. They both start jumping on the spot, talking animatedly while Puck and Kurt look at each other in silence. A smirk slowly appears on Puck’s face, which turns into a grin as Rachel pulls him to his feet.

“We have to go!” Rachel exclaims, already looking around the room for her purse. “Kurt, get the food out of the oven, we’ll eat when we come back. Come on, boys!”

She skips out of the room, Puck on her heels. Blaine grins as Kurt finally gets up and walks towards him, wrapping Blaine into a tight hug. He feels dizzy but his heart is soaring high when he realises that things can only get better, now.

“Come on,” Kurt says into Blaine’s ear. “Let’s go make history.”