Summer came to an end and a new school year at McKinley began. It was the basically the exact same bullshit as last year except for the date on the calendar, but Carson soothed himself with the comforting thought that he now only had two school years left to go before he could escape Lima and attend Northwestern University. And he would be attending, make no mistake about that. He was working harder than ever at cultivating himself to be an attractive applicant when the time came. He was still the editor of the Muckraker (which, by default, also made him a member of the student council). And, even though everyone in the writers’ club who had helped him the previous year had graduated and he was almost the sole member of that particular club again (except for Jacob Ben Israel, who only attended meetings sporadically), he figured the effort should count for something. He also had glee club to add to his resume, so at least his hours spent dealing with Mr. Schuester’s bullshit and Rachel’s whining weren’t going to end up being a complete waste.

That was pretty much the only reason, besides being close to Kurt, why Carson even put up with the glee club as much as he did. They started the year off in need of new members again, and Rachel had felt threatened by their only possible new recruit and sent the poor, unsuspecting girl to a crack house, telling her it was where the auditions were being held. The girl had ended up joining Vocal Adrenaline, and Carson had honestly felt like kicking Rachel in the face after that incident, especially since she had not been otherwise punished for it.

Kurt, bless him, had tried to take it upon himself to reinvigorate the club by starting a Facebook campaign to perform Britney Spears songs for the first pep assembly of the year, only to be shot down repeatedly by Mr. Schuester, who was insisting that they do that boring adult pop shit that he had been pushing down their throats since last year. Carson had never been prouder in his entire life than when Kurt had finally snapped and told Schuester to “Stop being so freaking uptight all the time.” It was such bullshit that Kurt had been sent to the principal’s office for that (when, as Carson pointed out angrily to Mr. Schue, certain other members of the club were sending students into dangerous situations and escaping any punishment at all). They had ended up performing “Toxic” for the pep assembly, during which the entire student body collectively lost their shit over how allegedly sexy it was. Well….actually, part of the performance did involve Kurt thrusting into a hat while wearing sinfully tight pants, so yeah, ok, that was probably legit.

Now they were back to the same old shit of constantly whining that they had to prepare for this year’s sectionals, while simultaneously doing absolutely nothing that could be considered helpful in said preparation. Carson had pretty much given up pointing out that they were spending more time complaining and singing pointless songs than they were actually putting thought and effort into their competition numbers. He had taken to just saying nothing and observing, reminding himself that in two years he would never have to see these people ever again.

One morning in early October, Carson came into school early, as he often did, to put together all the articles that were scheduled to be printed in that week’s Muckraker. As was also often the case, they were almost entirely written by him, except for an editorial by Jacob about Rachel Berry’s brief foray into dressing like Britney Spears (which Carson had absolutely no intention of publishing, both because it was stupid and because Rachel dressed as a schoolgirl was a sight he sincerely hoped he would never be subjected to ever again for however long he might live). He had to hurry a bit because there was a glee club meeting before school that day. Apparently, there was little rhyme or reason anymore to when they met in the choir room. Sometimes it was after school as it always had been, but other times it was in the morning. Still other times it was right in the middle of the day. Keeping up with the schedule was exhausting.

He was just gathering up his bag to go meet Kurt at his locker so they could head to the choir room together when Kurt himself entered the journalism classroom, looking depressed.

“Hey,” Carson said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and looking at his twin. “What’s up with you? You look all sad and depressed, and seeing you sad and depressed makes ME sad and depressed.”

“I’m fine,” Kurt sighed. “I just had an argument with Dad this morning before I left. That’s all.”

“About what?” Carson asked curiously. It was extremely rare for Kurt and their father to fight. Kurt wasn’t usually the kind of kid who got into much trouble.

“He got all mad at me because I told him I wouldn’t be able to be at this week’s Friday night dinner,” Kurt said, leaning up against the wall. “Sing-Along Sound of Music is that night, and I have to go. I have to. It only comes once a year. I mean, you don’t think I’m being terribly selfish to want to go, do you?”

Carson shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. It’s not like that thing happens every day. It’s once a year and you have every right to want to go.”

“Thank you,” said Kurt, breathing a sigh of relief. “Honestly, I know the dinners are important, but Sing-Along Sound of Music is important to me, too. I think he just got extra defensive about it because Finn and Carole are supposed to come over that night, too.”

Carson groaned. “All the more reason to skip it, as far as I’m concerned. Take me with you to the movie.”

Kurt laughed. “I would, but you would be so out of your element there. All those people around us dressed in nun habits….you’d be clawing your way back out to the parking lot before “How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?” was even halfway finished.”

“I’ll deal,” Carson protested. “Just pleeeease let me come with you. I can’t handle a dinner with Finn by myself.”

“I think if both of us skipped out on the dinner, Dad would be kind of pissed,” said Kurt.

Carson grumbled and sighed. “Ugh. Well, we’ll see. Maybe Finn will be busy with something stupid and not be able to come.”

Neither twin’s mood was improved by glee club that morning. It had started with Finn getting up in front of the club and declaring, entirely out of the blue, his newfound love for Jesus Christ and suggesting that the glee club should spend a week singing songs about religion. Carson had rolled his eyes out of habit.

“Ok, first of all, that’s just another waste of time,” he said as patiently as he possibly could (which wasn’t very). “I don’t think I need to remind anyone in this room that sectionals are coming up and you haven’t even started discussing a setlist. Not sure why I care, but whatever. And secondly, Finn, if you want to sing about Jesus, then you go right ahead, but I don’t see why the entire club should have to.”

“Yeah,” added Kurt. “Sorry, but if I wanted to sing about Jesus, I’d go to church. And the reason I don’t go to church is because most churches don’t think very much of gay people. Or women. Or science.”

“I agree with Kurt,” said Carson.

“Big surprise there,” mumbled Santana with an eye roll of her own. Carson glared at her.

“I don’t see anything wrong with getting a little church up in here,” said Mercedes cheerfully.

“I agree,” added Quinn. “I’ve had a really hard year, and I turned to God a lot for help. I, for one, wouldn’t mind saying thanks.”

“Thanks for what?” spoke up Santana. “That it didn’t come out a lizard baby?”

“Whenever I pray, I fall asleep,” said Brittany. Carson had to agree with the sentiment there, even if he did think Brittany was a hopeless idiot most of the time.

Not surprisingly, Mr. Schue had agreed with Finn that they should do Religion Week, because God forbid (heh..irony!) that he not kiss Finn’s ass every time the knuckle dragger had a stupid idea. And then the entire meeting had devolved into Puck getting up and singing some Billy Joel song. Carson had a feeling it was going to be a very long week.

If only he had known just how trying it would turn out to be.

He was in the middle of his second period American History class, bored out of his skull because Ms. Edwards thought putting in Pocahontas and making the class watch it counted as a suitable supplement to their lesson about the settlement of Jamestown (it wasn’t, and Carson was going to tell her as much, but she was sitting at her desk with earbuds in her ears, completely ignoring the class, and Carson just didn’t have the energy to argue today) when there was a knock on the classroom door. A nearby student opened it to reveal Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester. Carson wondered what they wanted for a second, and then he saw that Kurt was with them. And he was crying.

Carson was out of his seat so fast that it was entirely possible that he flew out the classroom door. In any case, he reached Kurt’s side in about two seconds and wrapped him in a hug, holding him tight.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, panic starting to rise in his chest as Kurt sobbed into his shoulder. It had to be something horrible if Kurt was crying like this and there were teachers involved. If someone hurt him, I swear, I will-

Kurt was trying to say something, and Carson tried to focus on listening. He managed to catch something that sounded like “Dad” through Kurt’s sobs.

Oh, god. Oh no.

“W-what about Dad?” he asked, holding Kurt tighter to him and looking over at the two adults watching the scene before them with solemn faces. “What’s going on?”

Mr. Schue cleared his throat. “Um…Carson, your dad’s been taken to the hospital. He had a heart attack this morning.”

Carson felt like a lead weight had settled in his stomach at Mr. Schue’s words. Surely he hadn’t heard him right. Or this was all some elaborate, bullshit prank. But he knew it had to be true. Kurt was hysterical, and Ms. Pillsbury had tears in her own eyes as she looked at the boys.

He’s still alive, though, he thought, his entire world melting down as he and Kurt suddenly became the only two people who existed at the moment. They didn’t say he was dead. He wouldn’t die, anyway. He can’t. He’s all we have left besides Grandma, and…oh god, it would break Kurt. It would just break him. And that would break me. We can’t lose both parents. This isn’t supposed to happen. He felt like crying himself then, but he fought it. He fought it with everything he had, because he had to be strong for Kurt. He couldn’t fall apart, because then who would Kurt lean on for strength?

“Carson, why don’t you get your things and then Mr. Schuester and I will take you boys to the hospital, ok?” Ms. Pillsbury said gently, her voice breaking through the fog of Carson’s brain. He shook his head and stayed where he was, refusing to let go of Kurt even for the thirty seconds it would take for him to go back into the classroom and collect his things. Kurt was all that was keeping him from breaking down right now.

“Right, ok, um…Will, why don’t you take them outside and I’ll meet you all out there as soon as I’ve gotten Carson’s things and explained the situation to his teacher?” she said to Mr. Schue, who nodded and led the twins out of the school and into the parking lot. Kurt clung to Carson for dear life the entire way to the hospital, his face buried in his chest as he cried softly.

“Shhhh,” Carson soothed, rubbing small circles on Kurt’s back with his hand. “It’s going to be ok. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He hoped with all his might that this was the truth.

*************

The four of them sat in the small, cramped waiting room of the hospital’s cardiology floor for what seemed like hours, with Kurt actually falling asleep briefly with his head resting against Carson’s chest as Carson silently tried to process the fact that him and Kurt becoming orphans in the very near future was an extremely real possibility. He felt like slapping himself for even thinking that, but he couldn’t help it. He hoped that Kurt couldn’t pick up on his thoughts. He wondered what would happen to them if their father were to actually die. They would probably be put into foster care, and separate homes, at that. Then what? How would either of them be able to get through this if they didn’t even have each other? He looked down at Kurt’s sleeping, tear-stained face and vowed to stop thinking that way.

Kurtsie, I promise you, no matter what happens, I won’t let us be separated, he thought determinedly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his brother’s head. You can depend on me, ok? I’ll get us through this.

At long last, the doctor came to find them and Kurt instantly woke up, as if someone had tripped an invisible alarm in his brain.

“Where is he?” he asked, getting up from his chair and hugging his arms across his chest. “Is he dead?”

“No,” the doctor informed them solemnly, “he’s alive, but I’m sorry, I don’t have any other good news.”

“I wanna see him,” Kurt said, trying to force his way past the doctor, who stopped him and gently pushed him back toward Carson.

“He hasn’t regained consciousness,” he said.

“I thought he had a heart attack,” said Mr. Schuster. Carson had almost forgotten that he and Ms. Pillsbury were even there.

“Brought on by an arrhythmia, which caused a lack of blood to his brain,” the doctor informed them. “That’s what made him lose consciousness and what’s keeping him comatose.”

Comatose, thought Carson numbly, not really hearing as the doctor continued talking. He was trying to process the word, which sounded less and less the real the more he rolled it around in his brain. Comatose. Coma. He’s in a coma. A coma. Oh, god. He felt Kurt’s hand find his and squeeze.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Kurt said, snapping Carson back to reality. “When is he going to wake up?”

The doctor looked between the twins and sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Ok, just take us to him now, please,” spoke up Mr. Schue. Carson momentarily realized that this was the first time in ever that he wasn’t completely annoyed by his presence, and immediately felt bad for even thinking that while their father lay in a room somewhere in the building, possibly dying.

After being reminded again that Burt wasn’t conscious and wouldn’t be able to hear them, they all were led to his room. Carson tried to mentally steel himself before they entered, and even then he just barely managed not to gasp out loud. The thought of being strong for Kurt kept him from focusing too much on how weak and helpless their father looked like that, or on how much this reminded him of the many times their mother had been laying just like that on this very same floor before she died.

“We need a minute,” Kurt said shakily to the adults, his hand gripping Carson’s so tightly that Carson couldn’t even move his own fingers.

“I don’t think you two should be alone, Kurt,” said Ms. Pillsbury softly.

“We’ll be fine,” said Carson, trying not to let too much irritation and worry show through his voice. Strong for Kurt, Carson. You promised. You have to. “Just please, go.”

“Please, just give us a moment alone with our father,” Kurt whispered, his grip on Carson’s hand getting even tighter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Carson saw Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury exchange a look, and then Mr. Schue lightly gripped Kurt’s shoulder. “We’ll be right outside,” he said. Kurt nodded, his eyes never leaving the bed in front of them. They, along with the doctor, filed out of the room, leaving the twins alone with their unconscious father. Carson swallowed down a lump in his throat and focused on his and Kurt’s joined hands. He was gripping Kurt now just as tightly as Kurt was gripping him. Neither of them said anything for a minute.

“Dad?” Kurt said at last, reaching out his free hand to hold their father’s. “Can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” Nothing happened, obviously, and Carson could feel Kurt start to shake a little. “I’m holding yours right now,” Kurt continued, his voice breaking more and more with each passing second. “Just squeeze back. Come on, Dad. Just squeeze my hand,” he practically pleaded.

Still nothing happened, and Kurt let out a shaky, strangled sob of frustration. “Why won’t he squeeze back?” he asked Carson through his tears. “Why won’t he just…Carson, I can’t..”

“Oh, Kurtsie,” Carson whispered, pulling him into a hug. “He’ll wake up. He will. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he will.”

They stood there like that for a very long time, neither of them saying anything.

***********

School the next day was torturous. Carson hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and he knew Kurt hadn’t either. They hadn’t gotten home until very late, and Carson had been holding a sobbing Kurt for half the night while simultaneously trying not to cry himself. They had woken up late and Carson was all set to just not go to school at all, but Kurt had insisted that it would at least be some semblance of normalcy and better than sitting around at home or the hospital dwelling on their depression. So, school it was. It nearly killed Carson to be in separate classes from Kurt all day, and he didn’t see him again until glee club that afternoon (which he did NOT feel like attending, but he knew that Kurt did, so he sucked it up and resolved to get through it as best he could).

He sat in his seat numbly, trying to tune out the world as the other club members came up to them and offered their condolences, He didn’t even bother to roll his eyes when Brittany handed Kurt a report she had done on heart attacks, written in crayon. He didn’t feel much of anything at all until Finn suddenly stalked into the room, looking pissed off and heading directly toward Kurt.

“What the hell happened?” Finn demanded, glaring at Kurt. Carson immediately went on the defensive. He was having a severely shitty day and he would be damned if anyone was going to start shit with Kurt right now.

“Don’t fucking talk to him like that, Finn. I destroyed your face before and I’ll do it again,” he practically growled, satisfied when he saw Finn flinch slightly. “Don’t test me, I swear to god.”

“My dad’s in the hospital,” Kurt replied quietly, placing one hand gently on Carson’s shoulder to calm him down.

“I know. My mom just called me. I feel like I’m the last one to know!” Finn whined. Carson was about to tell him to shove it, but Kurt spoke up before he could even open his mouth.

“Well, I’m sorry, Finn. It didn’t occur to me to call you, because he’s not your father,” Kurt replied testily. Even through his annoyance with Finn, Carson could swear he felt his heart swell with pride. Tell him, Kurtsie.

“Well, he’s the closest I’m ever gonna get!” Finn retorted, and Carson could practically feel the waves of fuck you rolling off of Kurt as he glared at Finn. “I know it may not look like what everybody else has, but I thought we were sort of a family.”

A family? Are you fucking kidding me? thought Carson irritably. Um, no. Kurt and I, and our dad, are a family. You, as of this moment in time, are not a part of our family, mostly because of the disgusting way you treated Kurt in our home. So, fuck you. Apparently, Kurt was thinking the same thing, because he just shook his head and sat down beside Carson, although he did grudgingly move the bag he had set down on the other empty seat next to him in silent permission for Finn to sit there. Finn tried to grip his shoulder, and Carson wanted so much to laugh right out loud when Kurt shrugged him off and wagged his finger.

Burn, Carson thought. He put his own arm around Kurt and gave Finn a glare that he hoped came across as “Back off if you value your face.”

“Hey, guys,” said Mr. Schue as he entered the choir room after everybody else. “Our thoughts are all with Kurt and Carson, and I know it’s sort of hard to really focus on anything right-“

“Mr. Schue?” Mercedes interrupted, raising her hand in the air. “I’ve been struggling trying to figure out what I want to say to Kurt and his brother all day, and I realized I don’t want to say it, I want to sing it.”

Mr. Schue waved her forward, and Mercedes got up and walked to the front of the room, clutching sheet music in her hand. “This song is about being in a very dark place and turning to God,” she said, handing the sheets to Brad the piano man. “It’s a spiritual song, Mr. Schue. Is that ok?”

“That’s fine,” he answered. Kurt and Carson exchanged a look. What were they supposed to say? Tina and Quinn joined Mercedes up front and sang a song Carson had never heard of and which was making him super uncomfortable, seeing as how neither him nor Kurt were the least bit religious.

“Thank you, Mercedes,” Kurt said carefully after she had finished singing. “Your voice is stunning, but I don’t believe in God.”

From the reactions of everyone in the choir room, you would have thought Kurt had just said that he enjoys ritual child murder on the weekends every now and then.

“Wait, what?” Tina asked incredulously on the way back to her seat.

“You’ve all professed your beliefs. I’m just stating mine,” said Kurt calmly. Carson was so proud of him.

“I don’t believe, either,” Carson said. “You don’t all have to look so damn shocked. It’s not a crime to be an atheist.”

“I think God is kind of like Santa Clause for adults,” said Kurt, looking around the room and growing bolder. “Otherwise, God’s kind of a jerk, isn’t he? I mean, he makes me gay and then has his followers go around telling me it’s something that I chose. As if someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life.”

Oh, Kurtsie, thought Carson, squeezing his hand gently.

“And right now, I don’t want a heavenly father. I want my real one back,” Kurt finished, squeezing Carson’s hand back.

“But Kurt, how do you know for sure? You can’t prove that there’s no God,” said Mercedes quietly. Carson closed his eyes and tried really hard to fight the urge to tell her to shut up, because he was in no mood right now. But seriously, what the fuck? Had Kurt not just finished saying why he didn’t believe? Why did she have to push it?

“You can’t prove that there isn’t a magic teapot floating around on the dark side of the moon with a dwarf inside of it that reads romance novels and shoots lightning out of its boobs, but it seems pretty unlikely, doesn’t it?” was Kurt’s awesome reply. Carson actually snorted despite his gloomy mood and brought his free hand up to his mouth. Oh shit, Kurtsie, that was fucking CLASSIC. I love you so much.

“We shouldn’t be talking like this! It isn’t right!” exclaimed Quinn fiercely. Ok, that was it. Carson had had enough.

“Well, Princess, we wouldn’t have to be talking like this if people would just live and let live, and let everyone believe what they want without forcing their views on others,” he said. “So, as soon as everyone just agrees to believe what they believe and let Kurt and I do the same, then we can get back to not preparing for sectionals, or whatever we’re doing this week.”

Kurt nodded beside him and got up, pulling Carson with him. “You all can believe what you want, but we can’t believe something we don’t,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder with his free hand. “I appreciate your thoughts, but I don’t want your prayers.”

“Ditto,” agreed Carson as they left the room.

“Assholes,” he muttered when they were out in the hallway. “Where do they get off trying to force their own beliefs on us at a time like this? Especially when you fucking explained WHY you believe what you believe.”

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed. “I know, I know, can we just not talk about it? I’m not in the mood.”

Carson nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Kurt shook his head. “No, don’t be. I’m just…you know.”

“I know,” Carson said quietly, pulling him into a hug. “I know. You and I are in this together, Kurt. Don’t forget that.”

***********

Days went by, and their father’s condition remained exactly the same. No worse, but no better, either. Kurt cried himself to sleep night after night in Carson’s arms as Carson held him and patiently waited for him to fall asleep before letting himself shed a few tears of his own. He was surprised that Kurt didn’t seem to be having any sleepwalking episodes, but he figured that was probably due to the poor guy being so exhausted at the end of the night that he didn’t even have the energy to sleepwalk.

And things in glee club were getting extremely volatile since Kurt had taken Sue Sylvester’s advice and filed a formal complaint against the school because of the club’s Religion Week.

They were all extremely lucky that Carson had skipped the glee meeting during which they all bitched at Kurt for this (Rachel had apparently even complained that she’d had the perfect spiritual song snatched away from her), because he’d had just about enough of their bullshit and would have happily told them all where to go and what to do when they got there. The day he and Kurt arrived at the hospital to find Rachel (along with Carole, Finn, Mercedes, and Quinn) having a fucking spiritual sing-along at their father’s bedside had been the day Carson finally snapped.

“What the fuck do we need to do in order for you people to get that we don’t want prayers?” he had exclaimed angrily, as loudly as he dared, considering they were in a hospital and there were other patients on the floor. “Do we need to walk around with neon signs that say “Thanks, but no thanks?” Because fuck, we will if that’s what it takes. I don’t know where you all get off thinking that this is in any way appropriate. If you want to pray for him, then fine. Have at it as much as you want. In your own homes, on your own time. Do NOT subject us to it. We’ve asked you nicely, and it would be really fucking awesome if you could respect our wishes. Now, everybody GET OUT!...Not you,” he added apologetically to the acupuncturist who had entered the room in the middle of his speech and whose mouth was hanging open in astonishment at Carson’s words. “You stay. The rest of you, get lost!”

Everyone had sheepishly left the room, looking slightly terrified of Carson, and Kurt had just looked at him in awe.

“That was passionate,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, well, I’m sick of their crap,” Carson muttered.

The next glee club meeting Carson attended wasn’t actually one he had planned on attending. He had been cornered by Kurt near his locker, and Kurt had practically begged him to come.

“I want to sing something about…about Dad….and I don’t know if I can do it if you aren’t there,” Kurt had said, his face conspicuously devoid of the pout he usually would have used when he wanted something. Carson had nodded anyway.

“Of course, Kurt. Of course I will,” he said, taking Kurt’s hand and leading them both in the direction of the choir room.

Minutes later (after a pointless announcement that Finn was the new McKinley football quarterback again, as if anyone gave half a shit), Carson found himself staring at Kurt, who was standing in the front of the room looking nervous but brave.

“I wanted to thank everyone for your kind emails and queries about our dad,” he said quietly, “but, for your information, his condition remains the same. I need to express myself. So, with your permission, Mr. Schue,” he said, turning to the teacher, “I’ve prepared a number for the occasion.”

“Of course, Kurt,” Mr. Schue replied, taking a seat and giving Kurt the floor. Kurt caught Carson’s eye briefly before he began speaking.

“On the day of my mom’s funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground, I was crying,” he began, his voice already shaking.

Oh, Kurt. Carson hoped he could get through this without finally breaking down and crying in public. He remembered all too well the day of their mother’s funeral. He could still feel every emotion he had felt as if it were yesterday.

“I mean, that was it,” Kurt continued. “That was the last time I was ever going to see her. And I remember, I looked up at my dad and I…I just wanted him to say something. Just something to make me feel like my whole world wasn’t over.”

Carson looked down at his shoes.

“And he just took my hand and squeezed it. And…just knowing that those hands were there to take care of me…that was enough.” Carson looked up just in time to catch Kurt looking right at him as he said “Those hands.” Something inside of him, deep in his stomach, began to hurt.

“This is for my dad,” Kurt finished before beginning to sing the most beautiful, haunting rendition of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” that Carson had ever heard in his life. Carson very nearly stopped caring about his promise to stay strong, because Kurt’s beautiful yet melancholy voice was stirring up so many emotions within him. Through incredible willpower, he just barely managed not to cry, even though everyone else in the club was. He wasn’t focused on them, anyway. He was focused only on Kurt. It was just him and Kurt, and the rest of the world had fallen away. He knew, somehow, that the song was meant just as much for him as it was for their father.

The painful thing inside began to hurt more.

“Are you ok?” he asked Kurt later that night as flopped down beside him on the living room couch. Kurt had been very quiet throughout the rest of the day and had barely said a word. He hadn’t even wanted to go to the hospital that afternoon, which surprised Carson, but was just as well. They were both too emotional today, and it wouldn’t do any of them any good.

“I’m fine,” said Kurt.

“No, you’re not. Neither of us are fine,” said Carson, holding his arms out as Kurt gratefully fell into them, resting one hand on Carson’s chest and his head on his shoulder.

“I just….Carson, what if he never wakes up?” Kurt asked shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if he dies? What would happen to us? We’d be orphans, Carson. We’d be alone in the world.”

“Hey,” Carson said, lifting Kurt’s chin up gently with one finger. “No, we wouldn’t be. If Dad were to…were to leave us….we’d still have each other. We would, always. Forever. I promise you that. Do you really think I’d ever let us lose each other?”

Kurt shook his head. “No.”

“Right,” said Carson, looking him right in the eyes as his hand gently cupped the side of Kurt’s face. “I love you so much, more than anything. And I would work my ass off to get us through it together if the worst happened. Ok?”

Kurt nodded, his eyes never leaving Carson’s. “Ok,” he whispered, one hand coming up to softly cover the one Carson had on his face. “I love you, too,” he said, his voice cracking.

They froze like that for a minute, staring into each other’s eyes, Carson’s hand still on Kurt’s face and Kurt’s hand still covering his. The painful thing Carson had felt in glee club earlier returned full force, but he just now realized that it wasn’t pain. It was…something else. He didn’t want to dwell too much on what that was. All he could focus on anyway was Kurt. Kurt in his arms, looking up at him and breathing quickly and blushing (when had he started to blush, Carson wondered) and suddenly Carson found himself leaning his face closer to Kurt’s as his gaze zeroed in on Kurt’s full, pink lips. It was just like it had been that day out in the snow, except they weren’t freezing and it seemed this time as if Kurt’s face was leaning toward Carson’s just as much as Carson’s was leaning toward his (but no, that had to be his imagination, right?)

Oh, no. Oh, fuck, no, please, I can’t…

Carson had the really bad feeling that his kiss wasn’t going to land on Kurt’s cheek this time, and time seemed to stand still as every fiber of his being screamed at him to stop, but he couldn’t. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was about to kiss Kurt. That was it. He was going to kiss him and Kurt was going to be so confused and disgusted, and Carson would be disgusted with himself, and oh god, Carson, please, get a hold of yourself! Kurt’s lips were so close to his own now, just the bare minimum of space between them, and Carson closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

The sound of the doorbell startled his eyes open, and he blinked in confusion for several seconds before realizing that he was still less than an inch away from covering Kurt’s lips with his own. He moved his head back and dropped his hand from Kurt’s face, trying to breathe normally as Kurt stared at him with his eyes wide and his lips still parted, as though he had also been anticipating a kiss.

He hadn’t been, of course. He couldn’t have been.

The doorbell rang again and Carson eagerly jumped up from the couch to answer it, silently thanking his lucky stars for whoever it was on the other side of the door, because they had just saved him from traumatizing his twin for life. It turned out to be Mrs. Thomas from next door, dropping off a casserole and offering her condolences for the hard time he and Kurt were going through right now. Carson thanked her and closed the door, setting the casserole dish down on the kitchen counter before he noticed that Kurt had disappeared down into their bedroom.

You almost kissed him. AGAIN, he admonished himself. You have GOT to stop this shit, Carson. It’s not healthy, and it’s actually really creepy of you. Oh god, what would you have done if you HAD kissed him? What then? How would you have explained that to him? He’d never trust you again, and he’d have a good reason not to.

Carson sighed and wondered, not for the first time, why his life had to always be so fucking complicated.

***********

“You told Mercedes you’d do what?” Carson asked disbelievingly as he sat on their bed and watched Kurt get dressed in one of his best outfits on Sunday morning.

“I said I’d go to church with her,” replied Kurt, trying on an assortment of different hats in front of the mirror.

“WHY?”

Kurt sighed and turned to face Carson. “Look, I just think that maybe I might have been too harsh in telling everyone not to pray for us and Dad,” he said tiredly. “If that’s how they think they can do some good, I should respect that.”

“Whoa, WHAT?” asked Carson. “Why should you have to respect them? Did they bother respecting us when they sang religious songs at us in glee club? Or when they infiltrated Dad’s room to sing songs at him? Or when they bitched at you for filing that complaint? Or tried to make you feel like a horrible person for not believing in their magic sky fairy? Hmm? Were they respecting you or us then?”

“I guess not,” Kurt mumbled as he seemed to finally decide on a black feathered hat to go with his suit. “And believe me, all of that still pisses me off, too. But I don’t want to push my friends away, and it’s only one morning at church. How bad can it be?” His phone lit up with a text message and he read it quickly. “That’s Mercedes. She’s outside. How do I look?”

Carson crossed his arms. “Like you are entirely too accommodating for your own good.”

Kurt smiled and crossed over to Carson, giving him a small kiss on the cheek, which made that non-pain thing return in Carson’s stomach again. “I’ll see you this afternoon, Carson.”

“Yeah, don’t forget that the acupuncturist is coming back at 2:00,” Carson called after him as Kurt headed up the stairs. “Just meet me at the hospital.”

“Ok,” was Kurt’s reply before Carson heard the front door open and close.

Honestly, Kurt, I wasn’t joking. You are WAY too nice for your own good, and none of your friends appreciate or respect you the way they should.

**********

Carson sat in the journalism classroom several days later, hunched over his laptop as he diligently typed up a couple of stories he wanted to put in next week’s paper. Their father’s condition still had not improved, and Carson couldn’t take the constant waiting by his bedside anymore. It drove him insane that there was nothing that they could do and no way of knowing when or if things would ever get better. It was even worse than the situation with their grandmother. Carson had told Kurt to just go on without him that afternoon. He hated the thought of Kurt sitting in that hospital room alone, but he needed a break for just one day.

He also needed something to distract him from what had almost happened on the living room couch the other day. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since, and he felt guiltier and guiltier every time he did. He felt so very guilty, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by the doorbell. What would have happened if he had actually kissed Kurt. Specifically, how warm and soft Kurt’s lips would have been against his own, and how wonderful it would have been. Carson shivered at the very thought.

Oh my god, STOP IT!

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts and he glanced down at the caller ID. It was Kurt.

“Hey,” he said, picking up the phone and taking his glasses off.

“Carson! Carson, oh my god, he woke up!”

Carson bolted out of his chair and stood up, nearly dropping his phone in the process. “He did? WHEN?”

“Just a few minutes ago. The nurses are looking him over right now. Carson, you’ve got to get over here. Please! I can’t handle this by myself.” Carson could hear crying in Kurt’s voice, but he could also hear something he hadn’t heard since the day of their father’s heart attack. He could hear joy. And hope.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Carson promised, already shutting his laptop and shoving it into his bag. “I’m leaving now.”

“Hurry,” Kurt pleaded. Carson rushed out of the school and into the parking lot, silently cheering the fact that he had the car, since Kurt had gotten a ride to the hospital from Mercedes on her way home. He drove as fast as he dared and reached the hospital in less than fifteen minutes, a new record. He’d just barely stepped inside his father’s room when he suddenly found himself with his arms full of Kurt as his twin launched himself at him and hugged him tight.

“He’s awake,” he said excitedly into Carson’s neck. “He’s awake and he’s going to be ok!”

Carson smiled and hugged him back, glancing over to the bed, where their father lay surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses, his eyes finally open after being in the coma for so long. It was such a wonderful sight to see that it took Carson a minute to realize that Finn and Carole were also in the room. He might not have even noticed them at all if he hadn’t heard Finn’s voice muttering something about grilled cheese. Oh, yes. That reminded Carson of something he had overheard Ms. Pillsbury talking to Mr. Schue about in the hallway the other day. Something that he kind of wanted to talk to Finn about.

“Finn,” he said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “Can I see you out in the hallway for just a sec?”

Finn looked both confused and terrified, but nodded and followed Carson out of the room and down the hall. Carson led them to a quiet corner near a set of elevator doors and faced Finn with his arms crossed.

“Finn,” he said sweetly, “am I to understand that all this time you’ve had what you truly believed was a grilled cheese sandwich imbued with all the powers of Jesus?”

Finn frowned and nodded. “Yeah, dude, but now I know that it was just…you know…a regular sandwi-“

Carson held a hand up to stop him from talking. “Be that as it may, up until recently, you believed you had a magical wish-granting sandwich. Correct?”

Finn nodded, clearly wondering where this was going.

“And you had this magic sandwich during the time that my dad, the very same man whom you yourself claimed to view as family, was laying comatose in a hospital bed and we were unsure whether or not he’d ever wake up?” Carson asked.

“Uh-“

“And you, fully believing that your magical genie sandwich could grant wishes, chose to ask it for permission to touch your troll girlfriend’s boobs? And also to be reinstated as the quarterback on the football team? Is all this information true and correct, Finn?” Carson continued, his voice getting dangerously low the longer he talked.

“I-“

“Finn. Is. That. Truthful. Information?”

Finn nodded reluctantly. Carson gave him a wide smile.

“That’s all I needed to know.” He stepped closer to Finn, considered him for a moment, and then reached one hand back and slapped him hard on the back of his neck.

“OW! Dude, what the hell?” Finn exclaimed, clutching his neck and wincing.

“Oh, that was for being a selfish prick,” Carson said lightly. “You could have asked your fucking sandwich to wake my dad up, asshole, especially after all that bullshit you said to Kurt about us being a family.” He turned around and marched back into Burt’s room, leaving a very confused looking Finn behind in the hall.

*********

I almost kissed him. I ALMOST KISSED HIM.

That had been the recurring thought in Kurt’s brain for the past few weeks, ever since that night on the living room couch. If Mrs. Thomas hadn’t interrupted by choosing that moment to deliver her casserole, Kurt was quite sure he would have attached his lips to Carson’s and never let them go. He had come close, so very close, and he had wanted to stop, but he could feel his willpower slipping away and knew he wouldn’t be able to.

I almost kissed him.

That one thought popped into Kurt’s brain at the most random times. It didn’t matter what he was doing. He could be in class, or in the middle of glee club rehearsal, or hunting all over town for saffron to add to the heart-healthy soup he was making for his dad. No matter where he was or what he was doing, I almost kissed him would just surface in his mind and he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what had very nearly happened.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had actually kissed Carson. How Carson’s lips would have felt against his own. They had kissed on the lips all the time when they were little kids, but it had been years since they had done that, and this kiss would have been different, anyway. It wouldn’t have been a brotherly kiss on Kurt’s part at all, and he knew it. It would have had feelings behind it. Complicated feelings that Kurt hated himself for having. Feelings that it actually scared the crap out of him to be feeling.

 Which was why, he supposed, he had been so insistent about wanting to sing with the new kid for Mr. Schue’s duet competition in glee club. He hadn’t even been sure at the time if Sam was gay or not, but he’d thought it was at least within the realm of possibility, and Kurt desperately wanted…no…needed a boyfriend in the worst way. A boyfriend would finally be the thing he needed to stop thinking about Carson so damn much and finally start feeling like a normal person. One who didn’t have romantic feelings for his own twin brother.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, he guessed), he had let Finn talk him into not singing with Sam. Which was just as well, since Sam had turned out to be undeniably straight anyway, and Kurt would have just ended up feeling like an idiot, just like he had last year with Finn.

“Finn’s a homophobic douchebag,” had been Carson’s take on the situation. “And anyway, you don’t need to duet with what Sam guy. I’ll sing with you, if you want. I’m not sure how good I’ll be at it, but I’ll try.”

Kurt had smiled and thanked him, but insisted that this wouldn’t be necessary. Singing a duet with Carson was the absolute last thing he needed to do if he wanted to be distracted from his stupid, disturbing feelings for him. He had ended up just singing a duet with himself (and one with Rachel later on, which had positively horrified Carson).

So, since Sam hadn’t exactly worked out for him, Kurt supposed he was right back where he started. Secretly falling in love with his own brother and hating himself for it. Great. At least he had the glee club’s upcoming performance of Rocky Horror to distract him.

“Wearing that wig every rehearsal is doing such a number on my hair,” he complained one evening as the twins prepared for bed. “It’s seriously ruining my scalp.”

“Why don’t you just not wear the wig until the actual performance, then?” asked Carson, slipping a T-shirt on as he spoke. Kurt tried not to notice his gorgeous, shirtless chest before the shirt covered it, but he was unsuccessful. Carson was filling out, and it was so hot.

“I can’t get fully into Riff Raff’s character that way,” Kurt answered, his gaze still focused on Carson’s now clothed chest and the stunning way the tight shirt clung to it. “So I guess I’m willing to suffer for my art.”

“You’re so dedicated,” Carson said with a yawn, climbing into bed. Kurt capped the last of his face creams and joined him, settling into his usual position facing away from Carson as his twin wrapped his arms around him and gently kissed his ear. Kurt shivered slightly, despite the rush of heat that pooled in his stomach at the gesture.

“Good night, Carsey,” he said quietly.

“’Night, Kurtsie. Pleasant dreams,” he replied. They both were asleep within minutes.

Kurt awoke several hours later, blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the dark room and cursing the fact that he was probably going to have a hard time getting back to sleep now. It took him a minute to figure out what it was that had woken him up, until he heard a soft moan from behind him and felt a tell-tale hardness against his back.

Oh. Carson must have been having another exciting dream, then. Kurt felt himself blush from his hair to his feet, and he was so grateful that the room was dark and that Carson was asleep so that he didn’t have to worry about it being seen. Carson seriously let out the sexiest little noises when he was dreaming about that, and between that and the feeling of his hard dick pressing up against him, Kurt was getting dizzy. And also hard himself.

“Oh…oh…love you so much…” Carson moaned, clear as a bell. Kurt tried to suppress the wave of insane jealousy that passed through him at the words. Just who was Carson dreaming about, he wondered. Who the hell was it and why was Carson telling them that he loved them? Carson hated everybody, and nobody would be good enough for him anyway.

“Mmm,” Carson sighed as he bucked his hips a little, and Kurt grew harder inside his own pajama pants as he wondered what it would be like to turn around and watch Carson as he dreamed. To see how he looked when he was clearly in the throes of passion in his own mind. To see what his face looked like when he came.

Another breathy “Oh!” from Carson made up Kurt’s mind. He very slowly disentangled himself from Carson’s grip, praying that he didn’t wake him up in the process. He felt Carson’s erection brush against his back as he maneuvered himself and bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud. Carson had no such reservations, the lucky bastard, and gasped when it happened.

After what seemed like hours, Kurt finally managed to free himself from Carson’s hold and slowly turn himself around to face him. Even in the dark he could tell that Carson’s cheeks were flushed. His lips were slightly parted as he let out a stream of breathy moans, and his pajama pants were tented with his arousal as he futilely thrust his hips against nothing now that Kurt’s back was no longer there for him to rub against, causing a slight frustrated frown to darken his face. It was the most beautiful, erotic thing Kurt had ever seen.

“I love you,” Carson said again between gasps. “So beautiful….so perfect..”

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to imagine, as he guiltily snuck his hands down his own pants and started stroking himself, that it was him Carson was dreaming about. That he was the one Carson was calling beautiful and perfect, and that it was him that Carson was saying he loved.

“Carson,” he moaned in a whisper as he felt heat pooling in his stomach and building. Carson’s moans and gasps where getting louder, faster, and more frequent as he moved his hips, and the temptation Kurt felt to touch him was so strong it nearly killed him. He just barely managed to stop himself. He stroked himself faster to the rhythm of Carson’s moans and thrusts, and felt himself inching closer to orgasm. He imagined being underneath Carson, of being held there securely while Carson made love to him, and he felt his body go taut. He was right there, he just needed…

Carson let out a long moan just then as he bucked his hips and came entirely untouched. His eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks flushed even more, and his mouth formed a perfect “O” as he gasped his way through it. Just the sight of him like that sent Kurt careening over the edge into his own release as he let out his own gasps and tried to stop himself from thinking how much he would love to scream out Carson’s name.

********

He knew, somehow, that this was a dream. It was not his first dream like this, and at this point, it probably wouldn’t be his last. But he was able to forget about that when he could see Kurt spread out on their bed, illuminated by lit candles and wearing that stupid Riff Raff costume, the one that had been giving Carson so many filthy thoughts for days. Well, he was kind of wearing it. The jacket was off. The shirt was half unbuttoned, and he wasn’t wearing the wig. Because Kurt didn’t really like that wig. He was biting his lip and propping himself up on his elbows and waiting for something. What was he waiting for?

“Carson,” he said quietly. “Carson, I need you. Please.”

Oh. OH. He was waiting for HIM. Carson crossed the room over to the bed where Kurt lay and just looked at him for a minute, taking in the absolute stunning perfection before him. Kurt was breathing hard already, his chest heaving and his lips swollen and so red against his pale skin.

“Carson,” he begged.

Carson leaned down onto the bed, situating his body between Kurt’s spread legs and leaning his face down to attach his lips to Kurt’s. He kissed him hungrily, catching Kurt’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling slightly, causing Kurt to moan into his mouth. His hand roamed down Kurt’s clothed chest and past his stomach until it came to the straining arousal in his pants. He cupped Kurt through the fabric and Kurt gasped, bucking his hips up into Carson’s hand.

And then Carson wasn’t sure what happened, but it must have been some kind of dream magic, because suddenly they were both completely naked, and fuck, he had never seen such a beautiful sight in all his life. He kissed his way down Kurt’s neck, sucking and nibbling greedily at the skin, not wanting to destroy the perfect porcelain yet wanting to mark Kurt all over at the same time so that everyone knew he belonged to someone. To him, specifically, and that nobody was ever allowed to touch.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing the creamy expanse of Kurt’s chest and sucking one nipple into his mouth, causing Kurt to moan loudly and grip at Carson’s shoulders.

“Oh my god,” Kurt gasped. “Carson, I….mmph…” He bit his lip as Carson kissed down his stomach and then pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his beautiful dick.

“What is it, Kurtsie? What is it, baby? Tell me,” Carson said, reaching his fingers out to softly stroke up and down the length of Kurt.

“I…I want…” Kurt couldn’t seem to get the words out as Carson planted kisses along the length of his erection, sticking his tongue out to lap delicately at the head.

“Hmm? What is it you want? Just tell me, and I’ll give it to you, Kurt, I swear I will.”

“I want you, Carson,” Kurt gasped, his chest rising and falling from the effort to keep breathing. “I want you to make love to me. P-please.”

Carson moaned and dived back in to kiss Kurt’s lips again, his hands placed on either side of Kurt’s face as he kissed him slow and deep.

“Of course, Kurtsie. Of course I will. Oh fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt breathed.

And then the dream magic must have been at work again, because one minute Carson was panicking that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing or how to go about this without hurting Kurt (and he would seriously rather die first), and the next minute he was above Kurt, and Kurt’s legs were wrapped tightly around his back, and Carson was…oh god, he was thrusting into him, slowly and gently, and everything was so overwhelmingly good. Kurt’s head was thrown back in pleasure and Carson took the opportunity to kiss the tempting skin of his exposed throat.

“I love you,” he moaned against Kurt’s skin, continuing to make love to him. “So beautiful….so perfect.”

Kurt raised his hips up to meet Carson’s thrusts and they found a rhythm as they rocked together. Carson reached for Kurt’s hands and clasped them together with his own as he felt himself inching closer to his climax.

“Uh…uh…oh my…hrrng…oh…Carson!” Kurt moaned loudly, and Carson felt Kurt’s dick twitching as he came between them, his head thrashing from side to side.

Carson let out a long moan of his own as the sight of Kurt’s orgasm sent him tumbling into his own, his lips wanting to form the name “Kurt” but unable to. He had literally lost the ability to speak.

Carson awoke with a start, breathing hard as he tried to remember where he was. The events of his dream were still replaying in his mind as he slowly came to the realization that he was in their bedroom, in the dark, with Kurt sleeping beside him, and that his pajama pants were full of drying come. Again.

Oh, fuck, I hope Kurt slept through that, he thought, leaning slightly over Kurt and slowly waving a hand in front of his face. No response. Good.

Carson sighed and flopped back against the pillows. This dream had been so much more intense than his first few. He and Kurt had never actually finished before, for one thing. And Carson had never said “I love you” during before, either.

“I love you.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? That’s what had just happened in his dream. He had made love to Kurt. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath as realization dawned on him.

He was in love with Kurt. In love. LOVE. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, no matter how much he hoped it would go away, it wasn’t going to. Kurt was his everything. Literally.

And he could never know. Carson wouldn’t let him know. That would be entirely too much for Kurt to deal with. No, it was best if Carson just kept it to himself. It would kill him, but he would do it to protect Kurt.

“I love you,” he whispered, burying his mouth in his pillow to muffle the words even further. “I love you.”