By Saturday afternoon Blaine was more than ready to go home, but his doctor still hadnt come by to determine whether he could be discharged. His parents thought spending one more night in the hospital might be a good idea, but Blaine just wanted to get out of there.  Kurt had gone home to shower (and take a nap, Blaine guessed, given how little sleep he must have gotten the night before) and Rachel had shown up with a box full of delicious looking mini-cupcakes that his mom was currently examining very closely.

"You can go ahead and eat one, you know, mom," Blaine said.  “Or even two.”

 "Im well aware," she responded.  "I just want to choose the right one." 

Earlier that day Blaine had a visit from a physical therapist to talk about how to get his leg back into shape.  It looked like they would be able to have someone come to the apartment until he was healed enough to go back to his regular appointments.  What was surprising to Blaine, however, is how little time everyone expected this to take.  True to his word, Kurt had brought out Blaines list of questions when the doctor came by on rounds ridiculously early that morning, and went through each of them, taking notes on the doctor's answers.  Kurt also ran through them with the physical therapist.  The consensus was that once the pain and trauma from the operation itself had worn off, it shouldnt take long to return to the level of mobility Blaine had reached before the operation.  In the meantime, after a few days of mostly bed rest, he was allowed to use his leg as much as he felt comfortable doing.  In other words, if he didnt want to use the wheelchair, he didnt have to.  This was music to Blaine's ears.  He could live with the sharp ache he was currently feeling, if on the other side was the freedom of walking around again (albeit at the pace of an elderly turtle).

"Hey, man, any word yet?"  Sam came into the room, looking around for a place to prop his guitar.  He was taking over Blaines spot playing for the children at the hospital while Blaine was recovering. 

"Nope.”  Blaine tilted his laptop towards Sam, who had pulled a chair up next to him.  “Want to try to find a movie to watch?" 

 "Sure.  By the way, Jackie and Terrence say hi.  And the girl with the huge eyes."

"Martina.  Shes adorable."

"Blaine?  Something you need to tell us?" Rachel asked.

"Relax, Rachel.  Its just Blaines tiny fan club.  He volunteers, singing for the kids here."

"Well, youd think all that volunteer work would at least entitle you to some attention from these doctors," Rachel said.  "Maybe I should go see what I can find out."

"Thank you, Rachel, but that wont be necessary."  Bill came in and gave Rachel a pat on the shoulder.  "Ive just talked with Dr. Lees assistant.  The doctor has been detained, but she should be able to come by in the next few hours."  There was a general groan from everyone in the room, Blaine included.

Rachel looked like she was going to offer her services again, when Tammy spoke up.  “Bill and I were thinking of taking a walk and seeing where we might get some take-out for dinner. Rachel, would you like to come with us?  I'd love to hear about what you've been working on these days.”

Blaine smiled as Rachel cheerfully agreed, always glad to find a willing audience.  His mom dropped a quick kiss on his forehead.  “Text us if the doctor comes.” 

With the three of them gone, the room was much quieter, and Blaine felt like he could breathe a little easier.  He closed his eyes, and felt Sam take the laptop off the bed.  “Want to sleep for a bit?”  Sam asked softly.

Blaine opened his eyes and smiled at his friend.  “I didn't sleep very well last night.”  Sam opened his mouth to reply, and then seemed to change his mind. Blaine figured he was about to say “I didn't either,” but let it go for now.  “How was your bonding night with Rachel?”

Sam grinned.  “It was actually really fun.  She dressed me up in different outfits for a while – hope you don't mind, she was pretty interested in your bowtie collection – and then she did this.”  Sam held up his hands, showing Blaine his nails, which had been shaped, buffed, and coated in clear polish.  “I don't think I'd do it again, but it does feel pretty neat.”  Sam rubbed his nails with the fingers of his other hand.  “She used lots of moisturizer, too.”  He held a hand out for Blaine to touch.

Blaine obediently took Sam's hand in his, feeling his smooth fingernails as instructed, and the skin on the back of his hand.  “Your skin is pretty dry.  You can keep using my lotion, if you want.”

Sam felt the skin on Blaine's hands and compared it to his own.  “Definitely softer.  I didn't realize that was from the lotion.”

“What, you thought my hands were naturally this soft?”

“All just part of your charm, dude.”  Sam smiled and then yawned, stretching his arms over his head.  Blaine couldn't help but wonder what clothes Rachel dressed him in – he clearly wouldn't fit in most of Blaine's things.  

“Any chance Rachel took pictures?”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Sam pulled out his phone and opened up Facebook.  “I only let her post a few.”  He held it out for Blaine to see. 

Blaine's favorite was Sam wearing a gray shirt with one of his bow ties, charcoal with teal and black lines through it.  Rachel had styled Sam's hair so it swept up a little bit, and paired a trim pair of black slacks with the outfit.  “You look very handsome, Sam.”

“Thanks.”  He pocketed his phone, and glanced at the reclining armchair on the other side of the bed. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I'm going to close my eyes for a while, if that's okay.”

“Sure, dude.  Guess if you're going to sleep, I might as well too.”  Sam moved over into the recliner and pushed it back as far as it would go.  Blaine offered him one of the light blankets they had found for Kurt to use last night, and within a few minutes Sam was fast asleep, curled up in the chair.

Blaine was worried about Sam.  He wondered if he should try to have them both talk with Betsy, as Kurt had suggested.  This whole lack of sleep thing was bad enough in the summer, but when classes started again there was no way Sam would be able to get by on two or three hours a night.  There had to be something he could do.

Blaine dozed off himself, waking only when he heard someone sit down next to him.  “Hey there,” Kurt said softly, a fond expression on his face.  “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's okay, I wasn't really asleep,” Blaine said.

“As opposed to Sam,” Kurt said, smiling as Sam snorted and turned over, pulling the blanket up to his chin.  “Too much fun with Rachel last night?”

“No, I don't think Rachel was what kept him up.”

“Oh.”  Kurt frowned. 

“Yeah.  I'll talk to him more when we get home.”  Blaine reached out for Kurt, stroking the purple paisley scarf he had around his neck.  “I like this.”

Kurt traced a finger along Blaine's cheekbone.  “I like this,” he said softly, and leaned in to brush his lips against Blaine's.

“Mmm.  You smell good,” Blaine breathed out.  “C'mere.”  He had a hand on Kurt's shoulder and was pulling him closer when he heard the distinct sound of a throat clearing.

Kurt jumped back, and Blaine groaned as Dr. Lee entered the room.  “Glad to see you're feeling better, Mr. Anderson,” she said, trying not to laugh.  “I take it you'd like to go home today?”

“Yes, please,” Blaine mumbled, scrunching his eyes shut and wishing he could just disapparate out of there.

In contrast, Kurt had recovered quickly, standing up and smoothing down his pants as he moved out of the way so the doctor could examine Blaine.  “He's been out of bed with assistance, and has met all the criteria for discharge,” Kurt pointed out.  “He'd certainly sleep better at home.”

At this, Dr. Lee seemed about to lose her battle with the giggles, breaking out into a broad smile.  “I have to agree, Kurt.  These beds just aren't very comfortable, are they.”  She scribbled something on Blaine's chart and regarded the boys with amusement.  “It's been a pleasure meeting you, and Sam as well.”  She glanced over to where Sam was still fast asleep on the chair.  “I'll have a nurse stop by with some instructions for when you get home, but after that, you're free to go.”

“Well, that wasn't embarrassing at all,” Blaine said, pulling the sheet back up to his chest.

“On the up side, I think I just got permission from your doctor to sleep with you tonight,” Kurt mused.

As much as Blaine was looking forward to snuggling with Kurt in his own bed again, he kind of wanted to be a little more mobile and a little less exhausted before their next sleepover, even if they weren't going to be doing much except sleeping.  “Maybe tomorrow night, after my parents go home?”

“Deal.”  Kurt stood up and wandered around the room, gathering up Blaine's things from the bathroom.  “Hey, do you think that other doctor will come by, Dr. Avery?”

“I don't remember a Dr. Avery.”

“Tall, nice shoulders, good looking…”

 “His name is Dr. Adams.  Dr. Avery is a character on Grey's Anatomy.”  Blaine laughed.  “And no, I think he was an intern, we probably won't see him again.”

Kurt shrugged.  “He was cute.  He could be on Grey's Anatomy.”

“I think you've been watching too much television.”

“Says the guy who seems to have watched all ten seasons of Friends in the past two months.”

“Friends is awesome,” Sam mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.  “Hey, was there a doctor in here?”

“Yup, and she discharged me.  We have to wait for the nurse, though.”

“Did you text your parents?”  Sam asked.

Blaine sighed.  “Do I have to?”

“They've actually been really cool about everything,” Kurt said, coming back to sit down next to Blaine and running a finger along his arm.  “Really cool.”  Blaine felt like Kurt was trying to tell him something.

“Did you guys have a heart to heart?”

“Something like that.”  Kurt smiled tentatively.  “Tell you later?”

“Of course.”

----------

Later that night, after Blaine was finally released, Blaine's parents treated them all to a feast of take-out Thai food back at the apartment.  After dinner Rachel headed out to meet some friends, and Tammy and Bill went back to their hotel, promising to bring over bagels in the morning.

“Your parents have to go home already.  I've gained ten pounds in the past two days,” Sam said, patting his stomach and groaning as he got up, heading back towards his room.

“What can I say, they like to feed me.”  Blaine smiled and yawned, leaning away from the table.  He was already in his pajamas, having changed even before dinner.  It felt ridiculously good to be back home, even if he had only been away for one night. 

“Sleepy, honey?” Kurt asked, coming around and rubbing Blaine's shoulders. “Sure you don't want me to stay?”

“No, Sam and I will be fine.  Plus, I'm really exhausted.”  Blaine tilted his head back for a kiss, closing his eyes as Kurt's soft lips touched his. 

Kurt came around and took the chair next to Blaine, searching his eyes.  “You're okay otherwise, right?” 

“Yeah, I'm really okay.”  Blaine smiled.  “Remarkably so.”

“Good.”  Kurt smiled. “I'll head out now, then, before I'm tempted to try to get you to change your mind.”  Kurt leaned over and gave Blaine a gentle hug, pressing the side of his face against Blaine's.  “I love you.” 

“Love you too.”  They exchanged a quick kiss, and Kurt got up, giving Sam a wave as he left. 

Sam stood by the kitchen table, looking ready for bed himself in his sweatpants and t-shirt.  “So, what's on the agenda?”

Blaine just wanted to put his head down on the table and close his eyes, but he wasn't quite there yet.  “Change the bandage on the incision, find my medicine, and take me to bed?”

Sam laughed.  “Your seduction technique is a little rusty, but I think we can work with it.”  He handed Blaine the crutches the hospital had sent home with him, and stood next to him as Blaine struggled to stand up. 

“These are a lot harder to use than they look,” Blaine said sadly, as he cringed and wobbled. 

“Maybe you could use the wheelchair, just for tonight?”  Sam suggested.  “You're so tired, you don't want to hurt yourself.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Blaine grabbed on to Sam as he helped him sit back down. 

Sam brought the wheelchair out from Blaine's bedroom, and eased Blaine into it.  He crouched in front of him, his hands on Blaine's knees, and looked into his eyes.  “It's just temporary, dude.  Don't freak out.” 

Blaine nodded.  “I'm good.”  He really didn't like the wheelchair, but Sam was right – overexerting himself now, when he wasn't even healed from the surgery, wouldn't help his progress.  There was nothing wrong with using the wheelchair if it would help him, and he needed to stop thinking that there was.

Finally Blaine had crossed everything off his list, double checked the instructions the nurse had given him, and was ready to go to sleep.  Sam wheeled him into his bedroom, helped him into bed, and then returned a minute later with a glass of water to leave on his nightstand.  Blaine slid under the covers, feeling like he could be fast asleep in no time at all.  But there was one more thing left to do, before he closed his eyes.

Sam was fiddling with the wheelchair, trying to line it up with the side of the bed, presumably so Blaine would have a fighting chance of getting into it by himself.  “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay in here with me tonight?”  Blaine had thought about prefacing his request with some kind of explanation about how he might need help during the night, but decided against it.  Sam had said he was trying to let go of denial, but Blaine didn't think he was doing a particularly good job.  While it was true that Blaine did need Sam's help, especially now, Sam also needed him too.  And there was no point in covering that up, not if Sam was going to face up to it and try to heal.

Sam smiled sheepishly at Blaine; apparently the message wasn't lost on him either.  “Yeah, I can do that.  Give me a minute.”  Sam returned a few minutes later, face washed and teeth brushed, and climbed carefully over Blaine, laying down on his left side.  “This way you're closer to the wheelchair if you need it.”

“You're such a dork, Sam.”  Sam had figured out ages ago that he had to lie on Blaine's left side if he wanted cuddles, otherwise he risked putting pressure on Blaine's injured leg.  Blaine lifted his arm and pulled Sam to him, letting him rest his head on his chest.  “I can't promise you this will work for long.  I got pretty whiny last night when the pain meds wore off.”

“Whine all you want, B.  You know I sleep like a log.”

They both huffed at that – Sam did sleep like a log, in between the times when his nightmares woke him up, anyway. 

Blaine relaxed, listening to Sam's breathing even out, his head heavy on his chest.  Lying still in bed, if he just ignored the ache from the incision, it was almost as if the operation hadn't happened at all.  He didn't want to examine the thought too closely, for fear of it backfiring on him, but so far, this surgery was nothing like the ones he had gone through before.  Most importantly, he felt no trace of the hopelessness that had plagued him that year.  This was just a medical procedure, one that was going to have a temporary effect on his mobility, but that was all.  Blaine knew this was exactly what his doctor had told him from the start, but it had just been so very hard to believe, knowing all the things that could go wrong.  But now he was starting to believe it.

Blaine woke a few hours later to a throbbing in his thigh, but realized almost immediately that the pain probably wasn't what woke him.  Sam was curled up, facing away from him, clearly caught in a nightmare.  His shoulders were twitching and he was mumbling something Blaine couldn't make out, but it didn't sound good.

“Sam?”  Blaine turned and tentatively put a hand on Sam's shoulder, shaking him gently.  “Sam?  You've having a bad dream.”  This had no noticeable effect, so Blaine shook him harder.  “Sam?  Wake up,” he said firmly.

Sam jolted awake, or some form of awake, anyway.  “Blaine?”  He flipped over, nearly whacking Blaine in the face in the process.  “Blaine?  Are you okay?”  He sounded frightened, and it hurt Blaine to hear it.

“Sam, I'm fine.  You were having a nightmare.”  Blaine tried to touch Sam's arm, make some kind of connection, but Sam kept moving around, rubbing his hand over his eyes and turning back and forth to look around the room.

“Relax, Sam.  It's okay.  You're safe.”

“Blaine?  Your leg?”  Sam focused on him, his eyes wide.  “Is your leg okay?”

“The operation's over, I came home from the hospital today, remember?”  This didn't seem to calm Sam down any, his breathing coming in harsh gasps.  “Sam, why don't you tell me what you think happened, what you're worried about, okay?  Whatever it is, I don't think things are that bad.”

Sam closed his eyes, squeezing his palms against his face.  “It seemed so real,” he choked out.  “Tell me it's not real.”

“What seemed real?”  Blaine put his hand around Sam's head and slid his hand into his hair, rubbing his fingers against his scalp.

“When they did the operation, everything was too broken and they, they had to cut off your leg.”

Blaine shuddered.  This was a nightmare he had himself, ages ago.  He remembered telling Sam about it.  But Blaine hadn't had that particular dream in over a year.  It wasn't fair that this stuff was haunting Sam. 

He let go of Sam and shoved the blanket off them both.  “Sam?  Look.  My leg's fine.”  He wiggled his toes and then moved his leg a little, wincing at the pain.  Sam flicked his eyes from Blaine's face down to his leg and back again.  “Still not convinced?”  Blaine took Sam's hand, briefly wondering whether he had used his moisturizing lotion tonight, because his skin felt pretty nice.  He laid Sam's hand gently on his right knee.  “See?”  Sam actually sat up and slid down the bed, moving his hand down Blaine's leg, and checking his other leg as well.  “Keep in mind,” Blaine said lightly as Sam's hand curled around the sole of his bare foot, “if you tickle me now, I might literally kick you in the face.  And then die of pain.”

Sam let go and fell back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.  “I'm so sorry, Blaine,” he said, his voice small.  “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“There's nothing wrong with you, Sam.”  Blaine tugged at Sam's shoulder until he rolled over to face him, looking lost.  “You are one of the most wonderful people I've ever known, and you're my best friend.  You helped me through the worst thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm going to help you through this.  But I think we need to step up our game.”

Sam nodded.  “I don't know how much more of this I can take,” he said, his voice tight.

“I know, Sammy.  We'll figure it out.”  Blaine put a hand on Sam's arm, and waited until Sam looked at him.  “Would it be okay with you if we talked to Betsy together?”

“Sure, but what good would that do?”

Blaine wasn't sure if Sam was familiar with the term “unreliable narrator,” so he decided to just spell it out.  “I want to make sure she understands the problem.  You have a tendency to downplay how bad things are when you're talking about yourself.”

“You think I'm sugar-coating it?”  Sam did get it.

“Maybe.”  Sam seemed to accept this, so Blaine went on.  “Have you ever talked with her about medication?”

Sam tensed, as Blaine thought he might.  They had only ever danced around this subject, and that had been when Blaine was coming off the meds he had taken after the accident.  Sam had seemed relieved for him at the time.  Blaine had gotten the feeling that Sam had been suspicious of taking meds.  Not unlike Blaine himself had been.

“Do you think I need to?”  Sam asked softly, looking away.

“I don't know, but I think you should talk about it.  She'll probably want you to see a psychiatrist.  But Sam,” Blaine waited until Sam met his eyes, “there's nothing wrong with taking medication, to help your anxiety, or to help you sleep.  You know it really helped me, right?”

Sam bit his lip and squirmed.  “How did it feel?”

Blaine wanted to rant at the stupid television shows where characters refused to take their meds because it made them “different,” resulting in real life people that needed all kinds of meds (like him) refusing to take them, but that wasn't what Sam needed right now.  “Well, they probably won't give you the same thing I took.  But it didn't really feel like anything.  It just made it easier for me to see my way out of feeling so hopeless.  It's not changing you, Sam.  It's only adjusting the chemicals your body produces, if you need it.  Just like someone might need medicine to adjust their cholesterol, or blood sugar.”  He wasn't sure if this was entirely accurate, but he thought it was close.

“But they're just nightmares.  I shouldn't need to take medicine for nightmares.”

“You shouldn't have to have nightmares at all.  But you do, and they're not going away by themselves.  You're still traumatized by what happened, it's not your fault.”

“Will you ask Betsy for me?”

“Of course.”  Blaine had a moment of déjà vu, remembering Kurt quizzing his doctor this morning.  Maybe “willingness to take on difficult medical questions” should be a criteria for all friendships.  It was certainly something that was coming in handy lately, although this might be an indication that his circle of friends had way too many medical problems.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

Sam moved his arm, inviting Blaine to lay up against him this time.  He rested his head on Sam's chest, and sighed as Sam's arm came around his waist.  Blaine could feel Sam's chest rising and falling, calmer now.  At least he seemed to have relaxed a little bit.  “Thank you for worrying about me, Sam.”

Sam just shrugged. 

“I mean, obviously having horrible dreams about me being hurt isn't a good thing, but I do know you worry.”

“I can't help it,” Sam said softly, his hand grasping at Blaine's shirt.

“You know I love you for it, right?  You were so good to me about this whole surgery thing, Sam.  You make me feel safe.”

“I just want you to be okay.”

“I really think this time I am.”  Blaine raised his head and looked at Sam, who was staring at the ceiling.  “Hey, look at me.”  Sam complied, his big green eyes wet.  “I really am okay.  I'm not going anywhere.  Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, taking a deep breath, and pulling Blaine tighter against him. 

Blaine lay his head back down on Sam's chest, and reached to pull the blanket back up.  “Do you think you can try to go to sleep now?”  Blaine didn't want to doze off with Sam still awake, but he wasn't sure he'd have a choice much longer.  When Sam didn't answer, Blaine sat up and looked at him again.  “What if we sing something?”

“What?”  Sam was looking at him like he was slightly deranged, which was at least better than his previous flat expression.

“Isn't that what we learned in high school?  To sing about our problems?”  Blaine looked wide eyed at Sam, trying to keep a straight face.

Sam didn't have the same concern, breaking out into a barking laugh.  “You're insane, Anderson.”

Now you'll be sorry, Blaine thought.  “You may be right, I may be crazy,” he started singing, shaking his shoulders back and forth.  “Come on, Sam, sing with me!”

“No way.  How is that song supposed to make me fall asleep?”

“Fine.  You pick one.”  Blaine shifted against Sam, smiling.  “I'll make the coffee in the morning if you can pick the one I'm thinking of.”

“I know exactly which one you're thinking of,” Sam said.  “That's not even hard.”  Sam cleared his throat and started singing softly, “There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range.  His voice and his cattle are his only companions.  He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons, waiting for summer, his pastures to change…”

Blaine joined in, happily matching his voice to Sam's.  ”And as the moon rises he sits by his fire, thinking about women and glasses of beer.  And closing his eyes as the doggies retire, he sings out a song which is soft but its clear, as if maybe someone could hear...”  This was exactly the song Blaine had been thinking of.  Sam had sang it to him back in Lima, at Kitty's sleepover, when they were all so stressed out after the shooting at McKinley.  Sam had been having nightmares then too, and Blaine couldn't sleep, but Sam had held him and sang to him, in front of Artie, and Jake, and Ryder, not caring about what anyone thought about them, the straight guy and the gay guy curled up around each other, seeking comfort and safety in an uncertain world.

Blaine snuggled into Sam, and kept singing as they reached the chorus. 

Goodnight you moonlight ladies, rock-a-bye sweet baby James.
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, wont you let me go down in my dreams?
And rock-a-bye sweet baby James.