Blaine groaned in the back of his throat, the sound catching on the cotton wool dryness. He groped blindly for the glass of water he kept by his bed, but his hand hit an edge and scrabbled, finding nothing. He groaned again and blinked his eyes open, wincing at the light. He became aware of something warm pressed up against him, wrapped around his torso. The room finally swam into focus, painfully familiar.

Kurt pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “How’s your head?” he murmured, hand stroking across Blaine’s side. Blaine moaned in reply and Kurt huffed a laugh against his skin. “Come on, let’s get you downstairs before my dad sees you.”

Blaine whimpered and pressed back into Kurt’s chest, pulling his arm tighter around him. “Don’t wanna move.”

“I know, but it’s move or be murdered by my father. Your choice.”

“I love you. Too much, sometimes.”

“Never too much.” Kurt kissed his nape again. “Now, up.”

After a few minutes, Kurt managed to get Blaine out of bed and slumped at his kitchen table, blinking blearily at the light. Kurt set about making fruit juice, eggs and bacon, glancing back occasionally to check on him.

“You’ve been crying.”

“What?” Kurt placed a glass of juice in front of him.

“Your eyes are red. You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine. Drink your juice.”

Blaine took a sip in silence, watching Kurt cook with an unsettled sensation in his stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When Kurt set two plates on the table and took the seat beside him, Blaine grabbed his hand. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Blaine, please. It’s you we should be worrying about, my little drunk dialler.”

Blaine gaped at him. “Oh, god, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Kurt, whatever I said, I’m so sorry.”

“You were mostly pretty flattering.” Kurt sipped at his own glass of juice, watching Blaine squirm over the rim. “Who’s the girl you’re leaving me for?”

Blaine moaned and dropped his head into his hands. “No.”

“Bit rude to kiss her and leave her, isn’t it?”

“Please, please, stop.”

Kurt smiled, tracing his fingertips up and down the cool sides of his glass. “You said your parents would be happy. If you liked a girl.”

Blaine sighed. “I’m an idiot. And you know I would never leave you, especially for a girl and especially not because it would be easier.”

“Should I be worried that you kissed someone else?”

Blaine lifted his head, catching Kurt’s expression. He slid a hand over the table to grip his arm. “I wouldn’t have done it if it was a guy, not without you there. I know I shouldn’t have either way, and I’m sorry.”

“We all do things without thinking,” Kurt said, and the soft sadness to his voice startled Blaine. “We’re all reckless.” He gripped Blaine’s hand. “Do you think it’s okay to be reckless, as long as no-one gets hurt in the end?”

“What do you mean?”

“You kissed a girl, you kissed someone else, without really thinking about the consequences. But I’m not upset because I know you didn’t intend it in a harmful way. Is that – is that okay?”

“I still feel guilty about it,” Blaine replied, stroking his thumb across Kurt’s hand. “But that’s me. I feel bad that I would throw our relationship around even a little bit.”

“Right.” Kurt nodded slowly, lips pressed together. He withdrew his hand and started clearing his untouched plate away.

“Kurt, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Why do people keep asking me that?”

“You just…” He watched Kurt rinse his plate in silence. “Why did I wake up in your bed?”

“Finn didn’t want to send you home like that, so he brought you back here. He thought it would be better if you stayed with me. He must have been pretty out of it to completely forget his protective brother routine.”

Blaine nodded. “Thank you for looking after me.”

Kurt gave a tiny smile and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Got to take care of the people you love.”

Blaine tugged him down into a kiss, making Kurt giggle. A quick peck turned into Kurt winding his fingers into Blaine’s hair and holding him close, refusing to let go. Blaine wanted to worry about the need that was in the gesture – not a desperate, kiss-me-now kind of need, but more like Kurt was afraid Blaine would slip away if he let go. Blaine kissed him back just as hard, trying to show Kurt that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Blaine liked to think that he was perceptive. He probably should have become disillusioned long ago, considering how oblivious he had been to Kurt’s feelings, but he still allowed himself to be convinced most of the time. So as he accepted his medium drip from his favourite barista, his mind was busy replaying all of the oddities of Kurt’s expressions and movements over the last week. Blaine had found him with a hint of red to the rims of his eyes; he had flinched when Finn came home, flinging his Titans jacket onto the couch where Kurt was sitting. They were little things, but again, Blaine liked to pride himself on his perceptiveness (sometimes).

Most noticeably, Kurt had been avoiding Rachel. The way their relationship worked, it was painfully obvious. She would come home with Finn, and Kurt would leave the room, sometimes dragging Blaine with him and sometimes just leaving him there, saying he had something he needed to take care of. It was worrying Rachel, Blaine could see that.

“Are we going to talk about what’s going on with you?” Blaine asked, leaning back against Kurt’s bedroom door and watching his boyfriend unfold and refold fabric.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I haven’t left the house this week. There you go, wasn’t that fun?”

“Don’t be like that with me. If you’re angry, tell me you’re angry, don’t do that.”

Kurt put the box of fabrics back in the cupboard. “How many people do you think Rachel’s touched this week?”

“Six.” He nodded when Kurt looked at him. “She drove out to Columbus.”

“That’s more than before.”

“You haven’t been talking to her, Kurt.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The afternoon had been tense, with Kurt continually snapping at everyone until Blaine had left, unable to deal with it if Kurt wasn’t telling him what was wrong.

He took a sip of his coffee, the liquid just the right side of burning hot, and sat himself at a table. He’d left Kurt’s house early – early enough for his mother to start questioning him again, so he took the time. He popped the lid off his cup and dipped the end of a piece of biscotti in, sucking the coffee out of it absentmindedly as he watched the people around him. He never had the time to do this any more – just sit, and observe, without having a place to be or a place to get to. It was a constant rolling day from the moment he left his bed: water, food, clothes, hair, car; school, Warblers, car, Kurt; car, silence, sleep. He didn’t hate it, but there was always something about change that made his head feel a little lighter.

He scanned the queue of people at the counter. A girl in a red and white uniform stepped up to make her order, high ponytail swishing as she looked up at the barista with an all-American smile. Her pleated skirt swayed around her hips as she rose onto her toes; it wasn’t for any reason, so Blaine assumed it was just habit. She lowered herself to the ground again, scanning the rows of pastries as she waited. She tightened her pony and pulled the bottom of her jacket into place, rearranging the shoulders. She took her coffee with another smile, teeth pearly white and green eyes sparkling. Blaine was pretty sure that, were he into girls, he’d be halfway to being in love with her already.

When she turned, hair flicking behind her and swooping to rest in little curls at the side of her neck, her eyes scanned the room, looking for a spare seat. The shop was almost completely full, and there were only chairs at other people’s tables free. Her eyes landed on Blaine and she tilted her head, making her way over to him.

“Excuse me, can I sit here?” Her voice was what Blaine had expected, if only a little deeper, and he smiled up at her, waving at the empty seat across from him.

“Sure, go ahead.”

The girl took the seat, crossing her legs and popping the lid off her own cup. Blaine looked at the dark drink inside and a small smile played at the edges of his lips. “Long black?”

“Americano,” she replied, taking a sip. “Has more of an edge to it.”

“Would have taken you for more of a latte person.” She raised her eyebrows at him, making him smile. He reached out to tap his cup against hers. “Medium drip.”

“To black coffee.” She raised her glass in toast.

“To black coffee.” He shook his head and took a gulp of his own drink, cool enough now. “What’s with the uniform?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a cheerleader before?”

“Don’t have many of those at all-boy prep schools.”

“Dalton?”

“McKinley?”

She grinned. “Was it the colours that gave me away?”

“No, it was your wit and charm.”

“For which McKinley is famed.” She rolled her eyes and set her drink on the table, holding out her hand. “Quinn Fabray.”

Blaine’s fingers tightened around his cup. His smile suddenly felt stretched. He took her hand and shook it. “Blaine Anderson.”

“Nice to meet you, Blaine. What are you doing in Lima?”

He paused for a moment, staring at her. “Visiting my boyfriend.”

He watched her eyebrows twitch upwards on her forehead. Then she brushed at the top of her hair, smoothing imaginary flyaways, and took another drag of coffee. “I’m jealous. My boyfriend won’t let me visit him since he moved into his new house.”

Blaine held in a snort. “Doesn’t sound very healthy.”

“Well, it’s not as bad as him hanging around the school freak. Sometimes I think he spends more time with her than he does with me.”

Blaine shrugged, fingers flexing around his cup. “Maybe he likes her.”

Quinn glared at him. “You should work on your tact, Blaine Anderson.” She rearranged her pleats across her thighs, picking a tiny piece of fluff off her skirt and flicking it away with her fingers. “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I’m a cheerleading, all-American Daddy’s Girl whose biggest problem is waiting for her curling irons to heat up. It’s narrow-minded.”

“I would have said your biggest problem was your boyfriend, from what you’ve told me.”

She scowled, grabbing her cup again. “And doesn’t that make me sound like an intelligent, independent woman.”

“Are you?”

She pursed her lips, running a finger around the rim of her cup. “No. But I want to be. I wish I could be.”

“Well, why can’t you?”

“Because this is easier. Because I worked to get here, so people wouldn’t take time out of their day to make fun of me, or throw slushies in my face. Because I can be this, and isn’t this what everyone wants? Why would I throw that away?”

Blaine shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.”

Quinn looked up at him then, making eye contact for the first time since they’d shaken hands. She gave an infinitesimal shake of her head, millimetres from left to right, and slid her hand down the length of her coffee cup. “You make it so easy to tell you things, but I don’t understand why.”

Blaine took another drink, eyes shifting from hers. “I don’t either, if that helps.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each taking the occasional sip of bitter liquid when the heat and taste started to run out of their mouth. Seats freed up around them as the post-work crowd started to move out. Neither of them shifted from their table.

“Ever thought about giving it all up?”

“The uniform?” Quinn asked, watching a couple at another table. “I’ve had to before, but that wasn’t something I chose.” Something was battling behind her eyes that made Blaine lean closer. He knew he should have left long ago, as soon as he found out who she was, but something about her made him feel he had to stay. “Maybe I should just give it up and become a Skank.”

“A what?” Blaine said, the hint of a laugh to his voice.

“A Skank,” Quinn replied, gesturing with her coffee. “They’re these unwashed ‘bad girls’ with nicotine addictions. They hang out under the bleachers at McKinley.”

“Doesn’t sound like you.”

“How would you know?” Quinn gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Actually.” Blaine leaned forward in his chair, making Quinn glance over at him. “I think I might know more about you than a lot of people.”

“It’s your eyes – they’re like truth magnets,” she half-teased, lips quirking up. She sat herself up a little straighter, pulling her skirt neat again. She buttoned another button on her cheer jacket, pressing all her secrets back inside so Blaine knew he would get no more out of her. She stood up, taking her empty coffee cup with her. “It was nice to meet you, Blaine.” She held out her hand, and they shook again.

“The pleasure’s mine, Fabray.”

She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and turned away. After a few steps, she twirled back to him. “Will you be here next week?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Have an Americano on the table and I’ll think about it.” She span away, dropping her cup in the trash and shaking her shoulders out before heading for the door.

Blaine slumped back in his chair, hand still cradling his empty coffee cup. He let out a heavy breath, watching Quinn’s red and white clad form pass through the parking lot and disappear behind a car door.

So that was Quinn Fabray.

Kurt peered around the back of a car, watching him split off from his friends and hoping that Finn wasn’t among them. He moved around the parking lot, placing himself on the right path and staring at his blank phone screen. Sure enough, a few footsteps later, he banged into a large form in a Letterman jacket.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He stepped back, looking up. “I wasn’t looking. Actually, I’m a bit lost, could you help—”

“Watch where you’re walking, fag.” The footballer shoved past him, sending Kurt stumbling into the wall, and left without another word.

“Kurt! Hey, man, what are you doing here?” Finn grabbed his arm, patting him on the back. “Did you drive here? Awesome, because Puck picked me up this morning, but he’s off with Lauren Zizes and I really didn’t want to hitch a ride with Azimio, you know?”

Kurt didn’t really know what he was doing until his arms were around Finn’s waist, but he was hugging him tightly. Suddenly, Finn was pushing at his arms, prying him away. “Hey, Kurt, um. Not here, okay?” Finn glanced towards the pack of Letterman jackets. “Some of the guys are kind of… They don’t…”

“They don’t like gay people,” Kurt said, wrapping his arms around himself. “Yeah, I think I got that.”

Finn looked over his shoulder. “Did you run into Karofsky?”

“Is that…?” Kurt tilted his head back.

“Yeah. He’s one of the worst ones. I’m so sorry, Kurt. Seriously.”

Kurt shook his head and turned away, heading towards the car. Finn’s footfalls followed behind him, pausing only when Kurt got in the passenger door.

“You’re driving,” he murmured, leaning his head against the window and hooking his fingers over the chain hanging across the front of his jacket. His thumb traced along the links, reaching the feathered metal circle pin at the end and sliding back again. He focused on the movement while the car started to rumble beneath him and Finn drove them out of the lot. The silence lasted a few minutes until Kurt felt Finn look over at him and knew what was coming.

“Kurt, you okay? You seem a bit… out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Kurt said on a sigh, staring out of the window and running his fingertip round and round his circle pin.

“Did Karofsky say something to you?”

Kurt’s fingertip paused. “What’s his first name?” He could sense Finn giving him a look from the other side of the car.

“David. Kurt, if he did anything to you, I swear—”

“No.” Kurt’s voice was quiet, but the tone was clear and made Finn snap his mouth shut at once. Kurt didn’t say anything more; he tilted his cheek against the cool glass of the window and watched the unfamiliar streets of his hometown fly past in blurs of colour.

“Blaine.” His voice cracked and he knew Blaine had heard it.

“Kurt? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I was just… thinking.”

“You don’t sound like you’ve been ‘just thinking’.”

“Have people ever been rude to you because – because of your sexuality?”

There was a pause at Blaine’s end, and Kurt could just make out his breathing. “Why?”

“I just, I’ve never had that. I’ve heard about it, but… has it happened to you?”

“I don’t understand why you’re asking this now.”

“Blaine, what did they do to you?”

“Why are you pushing this?” Blaine snapped, and Kurt jumped at the bite of it. “What do you know?”

“I don’t – Blaine, I don’t know anything, that’s why I’m asking.”

Blaine sighed so heavily the phone crackled. “It was a really bad time for me, Kurt.”

“You can tell me, if you want to. But, Blaine…” Kurt pressed a hand to his eyes, mostly dry now, although the tear tracks were still sticky on his cheeks. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to say anything.”

“I want to. I should have told you ages ago, but – I try not to think about it.” Kurt stayed silent, hand pressed over his mouth to hide his ragged breathing, and waited for Blaine to go on in his own time. “It was before I went to Dalton.”

Kurt bit into the knuckle of his forefinger as he listened to Blaine tell the story. His voice was detached a little, holding the words at a distance from his heart, and he tried to laugh it off at the end, but it was too hollow to be effective.

“It was bad, Kurt, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. People have been through worse.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt whispered, running his thumb under his eye to gather the renewed teardrops.

“Don’t. It wasn’t you.” Blaine let out another sigh, shakier this time. “Tell me why you want to know.”

“Someone called me a fag today.”

“What? Who? Kurt, what—”

“Don’t – it’s not as bad as what you went through. Blaine…”

“Just because it isn’t extreme, doesn’t make it okay, Kurt. Do you want me to come over?”

“It’ll be the middle of the night by the time you get here. Just talk to me.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, voice soft. “Yeah, of course.”

They were silent for a minute and Kurt just listened to Blaine breathe, trying to slow his own heart rate down.

“Who was it?”

“No-one. Just someone in the street.”

“… You know I can hear it when you lie to me.”

“I can’t tell you, Blaine. I can’t. It’ll just make everything worse.”

“You’re scaring me, Kurt.”

Kurt shushed him, rolling onto his side and curling his free arm into his chest. “I just wanted to talk to you. Please don’t worry. People about me too much as it is.”

“It—”

“—comes from a place of caring, I know. Trust me, Blaine, please. I will tell you, just not today.”

Blaine huffed into the phone and Kurt could imagine him running his fingers through his hair. “I hate this.”

“Sing to me,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Will you sing to me? Please.”

“I – yes. What do you—?”

“You choose.”

“Okay. Just lie back, okay?”

Kurt hummed, pushing his legs under the covers and curling his body up in the warmth, the phone still pressed to his ear. He waited, listening to Blaine think. When the first notes crackled down the phone, Kurt smiled at the sweetness of them although he didn’t recognise the song. He pulled the covers closer around him and let the soft melody lull him to sleep.

“I’m going run for Congress.”

Kurt and Finn looked up from their food, shocked expressions painting their faces.

“Dad, what are you talking about?”

Burt took Carole’s hand, smiling at her. “I’ve thought about it a lot over the last week. Congressman Wyatt’s death has left a seat open. I want to be able to make a difference to this world, to your life Kurt, and this is a way I can do that. I can fight against that bill, make people see that it’s wrong. I can try to change things for the better.”

Finn reached out to shake Burt’s hand across the table. “That’s really awesome, Burt.”

“Dad, what about the media?”

“We’ll deal with them when we get there.”

“They dig up everything – I’ve seen it happen. Any secret you’ve ever had is splashed across the front pages of the local newspaper. Haven’t I spent my whole life hiding from the rest of the world? And now you’re going to what? Make all of that worth nothing? Because everyone’s going to know about me. They’re going to know what I am and they’re going to know you’ve been hiding me and pretending I don’t exist!”

Burt sighed and rearranged himself in his chair. “Kurt, look, you think I haven’t thought about that? Why do you think I waited to so long to decide? But I need your help, kiddo. I need you to show everyone why this bill is wrong, to tell them the truth. You gotta be part of this with me.”

“You really think people are going to be receptive to your gay faerie son?”

“Not at first, but we’ll get them there.”

Kurt laid down his cutlery. “I’m not really hungry any more.”

“Go on,” Burt gestured with his head to the door. “Go and think about it. If you don’t want me to do it, Kurt, I promise you I won’t, but I want you to think on it first.”

Kurt nodded, standing up. “I’ll talk to you when I’ve decided.”

Burt took his arm and pulled him down into a hug. After a moment, Kurt returned it. “Thanks for doing this, Kurt. It means a lot.”

“I’m not the one who’s willing to fight for his son’s rights,” Kurt quipped, pulling back with a smile.

“Maybe not, but I’m hoping you’re gonna fight for your own.”

Blaine’s house was empty again. Once Cooper had swept away, back to his life far from the Anderson household, their parents had been growing more and more absent. The silence felt louder every day, always such a contrast to the convoluted sound blast of Warblers practice. They were away on a business weekend, and Blaine was left to rattle around the empty rooms, waiting for Kurt to arrive.

He curled up in a chair in the library, a book across his lap, and leafed through the pages. If asked, he didn’t think he would remember the story. He slotted Kurt’s circle pin onto the end of his finger, spinning it around with his thumb. He grinned.

“Blaine, are you wearing my pin? Oh my god, you are so ‘50s, it’s adorable.”

He kissed the feathered edge and twisted to attach the pin to the front of his cardigan. His doorbell rang then and he scrambled out of the chair, book still in hand as he ran to the door. He threw it open to find Kurt on the other side, grinning at his enthusiasm. Blaine pulled him inside, held him close and kissed him, smiling against his lips. When they broke apart, Kurt’s fingers walked up his chest to trace around the pin there.

“I like you having this.”

Blaine kissed his neck, mouthing his lips up the skin to Kurt’s jaw. “I get to have a little piece of you with me all the time.”

“And it scares off all the other boys.”

Blaine laughed. “Like they’d even get close.” He licked at Kurt’s skin and Kurt gasped, tilting his head back. Blaine smiled, kissing the spit-slick skin and drawing Kurt towards the staircase.

“Always in such a rush, Blaine.”

He whined, trying to tug Kurt up the stairs. Kurt just pulled away from him, eyes sparkling, and sashayed into the kitchen. “You’re making me lunch, then we can – what did they call it back then?” Blaine trailed after him, shrugging at Kurt’s tilted head. “Park,” Kurt said, remembering.

Blaine frowned. “Wait, you want me to drive you?”

“No, Blaine,” Kurt said, gripping his face in his hands and laughing. “No, I want to stay right here.”

When they finally made it up to Blaine’s room – Kurt ate teasingly slowly, insisting on savouring every last bite until Blaine actually pulled him out of his seat, making his fork clatter to the floor – everything seemed to be on fast-forward. They were half naked and rolling around before they realised it, Kurt leaning up to press Blaine back into the bed by his mouth.

“Let me blow you,” he whispered, hand sliding under the waistband of Blaine’s jeans to where he was already half-hard. “Please, Blaine, let me.”

Blaine’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, drawing his hand back out. “Kurt.”

Kurt sighed and flopped onto his back. He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, then let out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sorry for everything.” Blaine laid his head on Kurt’s shoulder, throwing an arm across his chest. “You’re allowed to ask for what you want.”

“But I just keep pushing myself at you and you’re not ready for it.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t deserve you at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Blaine whispered. “If anything, I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t have a life without you.” Kurt didn’t mean to be bitter, but the bite of it edged into his tone all the same.

Blaine lifted up onto one elbow, looking down at Kurt with a worried expression that was becoming all too familiar. “Kurt, please tell me what’s wrong. You said… When you called me the other day, you said you’d tell me, just not then. I hate knowing that you’re keeping something from me and I can see what it’s doing to you. Just…” He leaned over to press a kiss above Kurt’s heart. “Just let me in.” When he looked up again, Kurt was pressing his face into the pillow, hand coming up to grip at Blaine’s shoulder.

“I’m scared, Blaine.”

Blaine let out a tiny whimper of sympathy and crawled up Kurt’s body to wrap his arms around him, pressing kisses to his cheeks. “Don’t be. It’s just me.”

Kurt clutched at the front of Blaine’s shirt, kissing his collarbone. “Just… try not to be too angry with me.”