Despite how utterly emotionally devastated Carson was after witnessing that ring exchange in the hallway, he decided that he wasn't going to let it spoil his uninterrupted quality time with Kurt. He forced himself to put the ring out of his mind and concentrate on the fact that, for the next two weeks, Blaine wouldn't even be in the same country, and Carson would have Kurt all to himself. He was glad he did, because those two weeks turned out to be some of the happiest he'd had in a very long time. It was almost like it used to be in years past, before there was Blaine or the twins' looming separation from each other in the fall to worry about. For those two weeks, they could just be, and it felt wonderful to Carson. The only bad thing was that, like all good things in his life, it was fleeting and the days were going by way too fast for his liking.

Which was what he was thinking about on Christmas Eve as he and Kurt lay on the couch together, everyone else in the house having long since gone to bed, leaving them alone. Kurt was curled up with his head in Carson's lap while they watched Miracle on 34th Street, and Carson was gently stroking Kurt's hair with one hand while the other rested tenderly on Kurt's shoulder. It was, purely and simply, bliss. The lights on the tree were still turned on, the star on top twinkling in the dark room and casting a gentle glow over Kurt's relaxed form, and Carson thought for what seemed like the millionth time in his life that there was absolutely no one and nothing in the whole world more beautiful than Kurt.

Kurt stirred in his lap as the movie ended and looked up at him, his eyes thoughtful. "You've been so quiet," he said. "Are you ok?"

Carson smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said, ruffling his hair. A sleepy smile spread across Kurt's face as he pressed a kiss to Carson's stomach through his shirt.

"Shall we put in Home Alone now, or are you tired?" asked Carson.

"Actually, I have a present for you," replied Kurt, his fingers dancing across Carson's arm. Carson raised his eyebrows.

"Is that right?" he asked. Kurt nodded.

"Mmm-hmm." He lazily flopped out of Carson's lap and got to his knees, sticking his hand underneath the couch and rooting around in the dark.

"You hid it under the couch?" asked Carson, amused. He got up, turned on the end table lamp, and quickly retrieved a present of his own from where he'd stashed it under the tree before sitting back down, waiting for Kurt.

"Yep," replied Kurt, finding what he was looking for and flopping back down beside Carson on the couch. "I figured we'd end up here, so..." He smiled as he saw the small package in Carson's hands. "I see we thought alike."

Carson nodded. "Twinsies," he teased, handing Kurt his present while Kurt handed him his. Kurt's smile turned into a grin.

"You go first," he said, resting his head on Carson's chest. Carson kissed the top of his head and nodded, turning his attention to the nearly flat, rectangular gift in his hand. He carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a picture frame that had obviously been decorated by Kurt. It was painted to resemble a piece of notebook paper, with a white background and black lines running horizontally across. Three circles were painted down the left side, along with a vertical pink line. The entire thing had been dusted with a light layer of glitter. Inside the frame was a photo taken by Burt on the day Carson's acceptance letter from Northwestern had arrived. Carson was smiling in it, holding up his letter while Kurt grinned widely behind him, his arms wrapped around Carson's chest and his chin on Carson's shoulder. Carson smiled down at the frame and then looked over at Kurt. "Kurt, it's so beautiful," he said.

"I thought maybe you could put it on your desk or something at Northwestern," said Kurt. "I just...I just wanted you to remember me, even when you're off taking the journalism world by storm."

Carson swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and gave Kurt a watery smile. "Kurt, I could never forget you. Never. No matter where I go, you're always going to be right there beside me, even if it's only in my mind." They looked at each other for a long minute before Kurt spoke again.

"I'm really going to miss you, Carsey," he said quietly, looking down at the frame. "So much."

Carson set the frame gently down on the coffee table and wrapped Kurt in a hug. "Hey, now, I know it's going to be hard," he said, softly stroking Kurt's back. "I'm going to miss you too, more than you know. But you're going to be much too busy grabbing New York by the balls to worry about missing me that much." He heard Kurt snort into his shoulder.

"I haven't gotten my letter yet, Carson," he said. "I don't even know if I'm a finalist."

"You will," Carson assured him. He let go of Kurt and nodded down at the gift that Kurt had yet to open. "Your turn now." Kurt smiled and nodded, carefully removing the blue wrapping off of the small shoebox into which Carson had placed a brown teddy bear wearing a hoodie with "Northwestern University" written on it, and a pair of jeans. On its face was a pair of paper glasses that Carson had fashioned himself out of construction paper in the journalism classroom one day while skipping a glee meeting. Kurt lifted the teddy bear out and held it in his hands, a smile forming on his face as he looked down at it and then at Carson.

"Is this the teddy bear version of you?" he asked, holding the bear up for Carson to see. Carson nodded.

"Yep. I thought that, you know, when we're apart next year, you'd want something to cuddle at night when you go to sleep," he answered, suddenly feeling inexplicably shy. "I won't be there, but Carson Bear over there will be. You can hug him, and maybe I'll feel it where I am."

Kurt looked at him, his bottom lip quivering slightly, before launching himself at him, hugging him so hard that Carson almost couldn't breathe.

"I'll hug him every night," said Kurt, his voice shaky. "I will. You can count on that...Carson?"

"Hmm?"

"I...I love you."

Carson hugged him tighter. "I love you, too."

The second week of vacation passed by in a blur, and New Year's Eve found him sitting on the couch again beside Kurt, while Santana lounged in Burt's usual chair with Brittany perched on her lap. Their dad and Carole had gone out for the evening and Sam and Finn had disappeared over to Puck's, leaving the twins with the house to themselves. Blaine, mercifully, would not be back in the country until the next day. Carson had been all set to cuddle with Kurt on the couch while they watched the New Year's Rockin' Eve coverage on TV, when the doorbell rang and he opened the door to reveal Santana, who pushed her way into the house with Brittany following closely behind her.

"We're hanging out here tonight," she'd informed him, settling in her seat. "There are no parties to be at, and we have nowhere better to be. Hi, Lady Hummel," she'd added cheerfully as Kurt gave her a look that could crack glass. "You and Hummel Two go ahead with your sweet, brotherly bonding time. Britts and I don't mind."

"Yeah, Santana, please come on in," muttered Carson with an eye roll as he shut the door and rejoined Kurt on the couch. Kurt had glared at Santana and then wrapped his arms tightly around Carson's waist with his head on his chest, and that's how they stayed for about an hour, until Santana abruptly got up and turned the TV off.

"This is lame and I'm bored," she announced, sitting back down and reaching her arms out for Brittany. "Let's play Truth or Dare."

Carson felt his stomach seize up. "Santana, I swear..." he said in a warning tone. She grinned at him.

"Relax, Carson," she said, winking at him. "I won't make you do anything you really don't want to do."

Kurt was giving her an icy stare, his arms still wrapped around Carson. "What is it with you and these damn party games?" he asked.

Santana shrugged. "Like I said, I'm bored. I needs to be entertained. And you two have a bit of a history of entertaining me a lot..."

"Santana," Carson interrupted her in a sharp tone.

"Anyway," she continued, ignoring him, "This won't exactly be a riotous good time because there's no alcohol, but I'm sure we can make it interesting." She said that last part pointedly, raising one eyebrow at Carson. Part of him was silently vowing to kill her the first chance he got, while the other part was secretly hoping she would dare him and Kurt to kiss again, precisely because they weren't drunk, and he was dying to know what a sober kiss felt like. He wondered if this game was the whole reason she had even come over in the first place.

"Fine," said Kurt, letting go of Carson's waist and sitting up straight, his head held high and his legs crossed. "I'll go first. Hit me with your best shot, Satan." Carson lamented the loss of those arms around him, but was kind of eager (and scared) to see where this went.

Santana smirked and shared a quick look with Brittany. "Ok, Lady Hummel. Truth or dare?"

Kurt crossed his arms and glowered at her. "Truth."

Santana thought for a minute and then gave him an amused look. "Ok. If you could spend one night with any guy you choose, no strings attached, who would it be? And Bowties doesn't count."

Kurt blushed, his cheeks turning an interesting shade of scarlet. "I don't know," he mumbled. Carson tried not to show his interest, even though he really wanted to know the answer.

"You don't know?" asked Santana, clearly not buying that answer. "No, no, Hummel One. You have to answer the question. Them's the rules."

Kurt rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, his arms still crossed. "I don't know, Santana...Taylor Lautner, I guess?"

Santana snorted. "Sure. Yeah, ok. What about with strings attached? Then who would it be?"

Kurt went from scarlet to almost purple as he examined the floor as if it were the most interesting thing on the face of the earth. "I...you know what? No. You don't get to ask two questions. I answered the first one and that's all I will answer."

Santana smiled, one eyebrow raised as she looked over at Carson. Carson glared at her and shook his head. He could see what she was trying to do, and he hoped to whatever force may or may not have been out there in the universe that she would fucking stop.

Although he was dying to know what Kurt's answer would have been.

"Ok, Pulitzer, it's your turn," said Santana, turning her attention to Carson.

"Ooh!" exclaimed Brittany, raising her hand in the air. "Me! I want to ask him!"

"Go ahead, Britt," said Santana. Brittany looked at Carson and smiled.

"Ok, truth or dare?" she asked him. He rolled his eyes and was about to say "Truth" just to fuck with Santana, but then he thought better of it. He didn't entirely trust her not to have briefed Brittany ahead of time on which questions to ask, and he would bet his spot at Northwestern that most of those involved him and Kurt. Plus, he was kind of hoping for a kissing dare.

"Dare," he said after a minute. He heard Kurt take in a sharp breath beside him. He was just as familiar with Santana and Brittany's dares as Carson was.

Brittany grinned and looked to Santana. They had a silent conference with their eyes, and then Brittany turned back to Carson.

"I dare you to give Kurt a sweet twin kiss," she said. I knew it, thought Carson. They're so predictable. Brittany pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it at him. "And it's gonna be timed, and you have to do it for a full minute." Santana smiled evilly and nodded in agreement. Carson gulped.

"Um..." he said, searching for words. "Only if it's ok with Kurt." He turned to his twin for confirmation. Kurt hesitated only a few seconds before nodding.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, ok. It's almost midnight anyway," he said, pointing to the clock on the cable box, which read 11:58. "And I don't have anyone to...to kiss...and it's sort of tradition now for us to kiss on New Year's, so..."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, babe," said Santana, taking Brittany's phone and setting up the stopwatch feature. "Ok, 3...2...1...aaaaaand...go."

Carson swallowed and looked into Kurt's eyes. They were sparkling and they looked so very, very blue. He expected to find at least a little bit of hesitation, since neither of them were drunk or asleep, and Kurt was probably thinking about Blaine, but to Carson's relief, he didn't see any. What he did see was anticipation, so he quickly closed the gap between their faces before he could lose his nerve and pressed their lips together.

Wow. Wow. Carson wasn't sure that there were suitable words in any language to accurately describe the way he felt as his lips made contact with Kurt's. Kurt's lips were perfect. He knew that they were soft, of course. He remembered that much from their previous makeouts, but they were a whole different experience when he was sober. This kiss was a thousand times more intense, so powerful he wasn't sure he would survive it. He was fucking drowning.

He briefly wondered if this was what kissing a cloud felt like, and god, that was a stupid thing to think, and then Kurt was gasping into his mouth and Carson's stomach seemed to have been taken over by an army of hyperactive butterflies on a sugar rush. He knew for absolute sure now that people weren't just using a figure of speech when they said kissing the one you love makes you see fireworks. There they were behind his eyes, as clear as day. He could vaguely hear people outside cheering and yelling "Happy New Year!"

"Mmmph," Kurt mumbled, and then Carson felt his hands gently cupping his face as Kurt leaned back on the couch, pulling Carson down almost on top of him as he deepened the kiss. Carson could feel the rise and fall of Kurt's chest and the thump thump thump of his heart that matched the rhythm of Carson's own. Kurt's tongue was seeking entrance into Carson's mouth, and Carson moaned and was just about to grant it when Santana's voice rang out into the room.

"Minute's up, guys," she said. "You may cease and desist."

Carson really did want to kill her now as he regretfully separated his lips from Kurt's and unconsciously darted his tongue out to lick them. He could taste the remnants of Kurt's lip balm and just Kurt, and it was intoxicating. They stared at each other for several long seconds, both of them trying to catch their breath. Kurt's eyes, Carson noticed, were no longer sparkling, nor did they look blue. They were very dark, the only remnants of color being thin rings around his pupils. The sight made Carson shiver delightfully.

"Wow," said Santana. "That. Was. Wanky."

"That was so hot," added Brittany. Kurt blinked and shook his head, darting up from the couch and blushing a furious red.

"Anybody want anything to drink? I'm gonna go get us some drinks," he babbled, rushing out of the living room. "I'll...I'll be back."

"Oh, can I help?" asked Brittany eagerly, scrambling off Santana's lap to follow him. "We have to be quiet though, I don't want to scare the little man who lives in the fridge and turns the light on and off. I want to catch him." Kurt gaped at her in disbelief as they disappeared into the kitchen and Santana scurried over to the couch to flop beside Carson.

"So," she said with a knowing smile. "That was...intense."

Carson sighed. "I don't want to talk about it, Santana."

"Well I think you should," she insisted in a hushed tone. "Because I have good reason to believe that your boy isn't exactly all brotherly toward you, either."

"Santana, stop!" Carson hissed. "Why are you doing this to me? I thought we were sort of friends."

"We are," she said. "I'm trying to help you out here. Take my word on this, Hummel, that boy has it bad for you. I don't care how much he pretends to love Bowties, I've never seen someone so intensely into a kiss the way he was just now."

"He wasn't," Carson said, unsure of his own words. He wanted to believe her so badly, but he couldn't let himself. She was probably wrong. After all, she hadn't had the "privilege" of walking in on Kurt and Blaine fucking in the twins' bedroom.

"Oh really? Is that why he looked like he was ready to move into your mouth and live there?" she asked. "Or why he practically shows literal cat claws every time somebody gets even remotely close to you?" She leaned closer and whispered into his ear just as Kurt and Brittany walked back into the room holding two soda cans each. "Honey, he loves you and he's a jealous bitch. Watch."

Kurt's jaw set itself in a line and he wedged himself on the couch between Carson and Santana, handing Carson one of the soda cans as he practically sat in his lap. "My seat, Satan," he said lightly. "Shoo."

Santana shot Carson a pointed look as if to say "See?" and returned to her previous seat. Carson took a deep breath and opened his soda, chugging half of it down in one gulp just for something to distract himself. Could Santana be right?

No, he thought. That's impossible. It couldn't be. I hardly ever get anything I want. I was lucky to get Northwestern. I don't dare to hope for this.

How did I get here? Carson thought as he sat between Kurt and Blaine in the lounge area of the Lima Bean. When was I reduced to voluntarily spending time with a group that includes both the hobbit and Trollberry?

The new school semester had long since started, the final stretch that stood between Carson and freedom, and it was now only a few weeks until Regionals. Carson had spent a lot of time since New Years trying to forget what Santana had said, and he had just recently managed to put it out of his mind, even though its shadow still lingered. He couldn't stop himself sometimes from wondering if she was right, even just a little bit, and then he mentally slapped himself for even wishing for that when he knew he couldn't have it. He wished Santana had never said anything at all. It had been a rough few weeks.

It didn't help his mood that he had been regularly attending glee meetings so that he knew what was going on for Regionals preparation (absolutely nothing, as usual, but at least he got to be near Kurt and be a cockblock to Blaine). The club was planning to repeat their Sectionals success by doing another Michael Jackson medley for Regionals, which was what was being discussed at the moment around the Lima Bean lounge.

"I've got to be honest, I never really got him," Rachel was saying between sips of her coffee.

"We are no longer on speaking terms," said Artie.

"No," said Rachel, trying to defend her blasphemous statement. "I think he's an amazing performer, but I never really just got what he was about."

"Rachel, he was friends with Liza Minnelli and Liz Taylor!" said Kurt. Carson smiled at him.

"No, all I'm saying is that I haven't connected with him the way that I have with the likes of Barbra or either of the Stephens. Sondheim. Schwartz," she clarified.

"I'd throw this mocha in your face, but it isn't nearly scalding enough," said Santana seriously. Carson snorted.

"Can you do it anyway?" he asked. "It's at least got to be hot enough to do nerve damage, right?" Santana smiled evilly and Kurt set his mouth in a line. He tends to do that whenever Santana interacts with me, Carson thought. Clearly it's jealousy, but...I mean, Santana is wrong, it's totally NOT romantic jealousy. It can't be, he knows she's gay. He just doesn't like sharing me. I can understand.

"Ok, but since you guys are so jazzed about him, I think it's a good idea for Regionals," conceded Rachel, tossing a glare Carson's way. He smiled at her sweetly.

"That might not be the best idea." Carson looked up from where he had started fiddling with a loose string on his hoodie to see that none other than Sebastian Smythe had just sauntered up to them. Oh, joy, Carson thought, sinking further down into his seat and hoping the boy wouldn't notice him. He hated being hit on. It felt so weird.

"Hey, Blaine. Hey, Hot Hummel. Hello, everyone else," said Sebastian, throwing a wink Carson's way. Carson wanted really badly to give him the middle finger back, but he settled for rolling his eyes.

"Does he live here or something?" muttered Kurt, looping his arm through Carson's. "Seriously, you are always here," he said to Sebastian, his tone making it very clear how much he disapproved of this turn of events.

"Why don't you think that's a good idea?" Artie asked Sebastian.

"Because we're doing M.J. for Regionals," Sebastian answered. "You see, Warblers drew first position, so as soon as I heard what your plan was, I changed our set list accordingly."

"I'm sorry, how did you hear?" asked Rachel.

Sebastian smiled. "Blaine told me this morning." Four heads turned to glare at Blaine, and Carson turned to him in order to fully enjoy the uncomfortable look on his face as he realized that he'd fucked up and everyone knew it.

"I just called for a tip on how to get red wine out of my blazer piping, and he would not stop going on about it," Sebastian continued.

"So basically we're fucked because Bingo couldn't keep his mouth shut," said Carson. "Just to recap. Fucked. Billy's fault. Remember this." He ignored the amused look Sebastian threw his way.

"I may have mentioned it," said Blaine awkwardly.

"How often do you talk?" asked Kurt in an icy voice as Blaine rolled his eyes and refused to answer him. Yeah, Bobby, how often DO you talk to other guys behind Kurt's back?

"Oh my god! Hey, Kurt. I didn't recognize you," said Sebastian in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "You are wearing boy clothes for once! Oh no, wait, my bad. That's your hot twin wearing the boy clothes." He winked at Carson again and Kurt's grip on Carson's arm grew tighter. "What was your name again?" he asked. "Carl? Casey?"

"Carson, you ass," Carson muttered. Sebastian grinned.

"Well, Carson, speaking of ass, I do wish you were standing up right now, because if the glimpse I caught of your ass in those jeans when we first met, or the brief feel I got when I gave you my number was any indication, you have a great one and I wouldn't mind seeing it or feeling it again," he said, the grin never leaving his face. Carson felt Kurt's fingers practically digging into his arm now. He glanced over at his twin and discovered that Kurt was turning a really interesting shade of red. He looked ready to murder Sebastian. And it was hot as hell.

"He gave you his number?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows furrowing together as he looked between Carson and Sebastian.

"I sure did," replied Sebastian. "Seriously, Carson, if you and your ass should ever change your mind, do not even hesitate to c-"

"His ass is MINE, so why don't you go fuck off?" Kurt blurted out, interrupting him. Silence reigned among the group for several seconds until Santana broke it.

"Wanky," she murmured, giving Carson a pointed look. Carson ignored her. He was too busy trying not to pop a boner at how possessive and forceful Kurt was being. A tent in his jeans was the last thing he needed around Sebastian.

Sebastian turned to Kurt and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, come now, Kurt. Don't be selfish. I can understand why you'd want to keep that hot ass all to yourself, but you can't have it and Blaine's. Give me one."

"Can everyone stop objectifying me?" asked Carson. "I am not a piece of meat." He felt himself blushing in both embarrassment and from being turned on at Kurt's outburst, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Kurt's face turning even redder.

"I'm protective of my brother, Meerkat," Kurt snapped. "The only way you'll get your hands on any part of him, especially his ass, is over my cold, dead body. The same goes for Blaine," he added in a rush.

"That could be arranged, if you insist," said Sebastian thoughtfully. Oh, this bitch did NOT, thought Carson, getting ready to tell him to fuck off.

"Alright, Twink, I think it's time I showed you a little Lima Heights hospitality," said Santana, getting up from her seat and waving her empty coffee cup in Sebastian's face.

"Unless you want to join your relatives in prison, that's probably not the best idea," replied Sebastian cooly. "See, my dad is sort of what you'd call a State's Attorney. But if you had a piñata you wanted delivered, I bet he could make sure that got to them." Santana glared at him, but backed off.

"So, here's what you guys should know," Sebastian continued. "I am captain of the Warblers now, and I am tired of playing nice." He gave them all a smile, making sure to wave at Blaine and wink at Carson, before strolling out of the shop. Kurt was practically hyperventilating with rage beside Carson. It was adorable.

"This is all your fault, Bowties," said Santana as she sat back down. "I knew you were a no-good jackass. Fraternizing with the enemy and shit."

"I'm extremely interested in knowing just how often you do talk to other guys," said Carson, giving Blaine a sarcastic smile. "You know, without telling your boyfriend."

"Carson," said Kurt, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Come on. Let's...let's just everybody calm down, ok? It's...it's fine. Regionals will be fine. Don't gang up on Blaine."

Carson sighed and settled into his seat, desperately wishing that the day on which Kurt would realize he could do so much better would just hurry up and come.

Kurt didn't know how the day had gotten so out of control. In hindsight, he should have tried harder to talk Blaine out of challenging the Warblers to a sing-off in an empty parking garage to solve the Regionals dispute. It clearly wasn't going to turn out well, but Blaine had insisted that it was the only way to settle the issue.

So the entire New Directions had met the Warblers at the garage. Carson had even come along, despite his very vocal objections that the whole idea was stupid (all it had taken was Kurt giving him the pout and he had caved instantly). There had been words, the sing-off had begun, and chaos had reigned. The garage was a flurry of people and singing and dancing, and then complete disaster had struck. It all happened so fast. Kurt had caught a glimpse of someone holding out a paper bag to Sebastian, and then he'd been momentarily distracted. The next thing he knew, Sebastian was walking toward him, holding a slushie cup in his hand.

"Kurt! Watch out! No!" Carson shouted. Kurt felt Carson's hand yanking him away by the arm just as Sebastian threw the cup and Blaine jumped in front of Kurt, taking the brunt of the slushie in the face.

The next few minutes were a haze of confusion and seemed to happen in slow motion. Everyone watched as Blaine fell to the ground, groaning in pain and covering his eyes. Carson held Kurt for several seconds before Kurt finally gathered his brain together and broke away to go see to Blaine.

"What the fuck?" Carson exclaimed angrily, walking over to Sebastian as Kurt knelt down beside Blaine. "Did you just try to throw that at Kurt? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? Get out of here!" he yelled, pushing at Sebastian. "All of you. Go!" The Warblers had left the garage then, most of them looking worriedly back at Blaine on their way.

"Carson," said Kurt quietly, trying not to panic or cry as he managed to gently pry Blaine's hands from his eyes to inspect the damage, "I think...I think his eye is bleeding." Carson joined him on the ground and Kurt pointed out Blaine's red, swollen eye, which was leaking a mixture of blood, tears, and the remnants of the slushie.

"Fuck," said Carson, sighing as Blaine whimpered in pain. "Ok...alright, you help him into the car and we'll take him to the hospital, ok?" Kurt nodded, feeling his bottom lip quivering and struggling not to give in and cry. He didn't want to scare Blaine. Carson noticed and wrapped him in a hug.

"Kurt, it will be alright. He'll be fine, ok? We'll get him to the hospital and he'll be fine," Carson soothed. Kurt nodded against him and took a shaky breath.

"Ok," he said, feeling the immediate threat of tears leaving as Carson hugged him. He broke away and started gently helping Blaine up as Carson stood up and fished in his pocket for the car keys.

"One of you call the police," he said to the rest of the glee club, who were still standing around in shock. "Tell them what happened, tell them that Kurt and I have taken Brandon to the hospital, and make sure you tell them that Sebastard did this." Santana nodded and reached for her phone.

"It hurts," Blaine groaned as Kurt led him over to the car.

"I know," he said, hoping he sounded comforting. "We're getting you to the hospital, honey, ok?" He opened the backseat door and helped Blaine inside. "Here, lay down," he said, briefly flashing back to the last time he had tried to make Blaine lay down in the backseat outside of Scandals and instantly feeling like a jerk for thinking about that when there was a serious emergency happening.

They drove to the hospital in silence, Carson driving and Kurt sitting beside him, mostly thinking dark, murderous thoughts about Sebastian, but also thinking about how that slushie had clearly been meant for him. It should have been him moaning in pain in the backseat right now, and it would have been if not for both Carson and Blaine. And what disturbed him most of all wasn't that it should have been him. No, what really disturbed him was the fact that he was actually secretly relieved that Carson hadn't been the one to jump in front of him. He wasn't sure what his reaction would have been if Carson were the one that Sebastian had injured, but he was quite sure it would have involved punching Sebastian in the face as hard as he could.

I'm a horrible person and a horrible boyfriend, Kurt thought miserably as he reached his hand into the backseat for Blaine to squeeze. Blaine took that hit for me and all I can think about is Carson. How much more of a jerk can I be?

The next few days were confusing for Carson as he switched between feeling extremely amused and extremely angry. On one hand, Blaine had gotten a severely scratched cornea in his right eye from that slushie and was bedridden with an eyepatch while he waited to have surgery on it, which meant that he wasn't going to be a problem for Carson at school for the next week or so. Carson kind of wanted to shake Sebastian's hand for that, right before he punched him in the fucking dick for intending for the slushie to hit Kurt instead. There was no doubt that there had been something added to it to cause that kind of damage, and Carson didn't even want to think about how fucking angry and violent he would have gotten had it hit Kurt. He definitely would have done jail time, because he probably would have murdered Sebastian right there in the garage in front of everyone. He might have done that anyway just for the fact that the other boy had meant to hit Kurt, but he'd had to step into action and help Kurt get Bubbles to the hospital. He may have hated the hobbit, but he was still seriously hurt and Kurt was upset.

Good thing it hit Barlow instead, Carson thought on more than one occasion during the past few days. Serves him right, anyway.

He didn't understand why everyone was so upset that Blaine had gotten hurt. As far as Carson was concerned, Blaine had gotten exactly what he deserved. It had been his stupid idea in the first place to challenge the Warblers. Shit, a challenge wouldn't even have been necessary if Blaine had been able to keep his fucking mouth shut and not told Sebastian about New Directions' plan for Regionals in the first damn place.

What kind of asshole talks to another guy behind his boyfriend's back on a regular basis when he knows that said boyfriend and other guy don't like each other? Carson wondered. He HAS to have seen the way Sebastian talks to Kurt. What the fuck? Better question, why does Kurt put up with it? I wish there was a way for me to force Kurt to see that he can do better. Even...even if it's not with me. ANYONE would be better than Blanco. Literally, anyone.

He was in the journalism classroom thinking these things as he prepared the layout of the next edition of the Muckraker when there was a knock on the door. Carson looked up, expecting to see Malerie or Santana, and was surprised to see his dad there instead, holding something in his hand.

"Dad!" he said, getting up from his desk. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright? Is Kurt ok?"

His dad smiled. "Everything is fine, Carson. I hope. I just came here because this came in the mail today, and I couldn't wait." He held out his hand to show Carson what he was holding, which turned out to be an envelope. It was addressed to Kurt, and the return address revealed it had come from NYADA.

Carson gasped. "Oh my god, his letter! It came! Where is he? Does he know?"

Burt shook his head. "I haven't seen him yet. I came here first, since I figured you'd want to be there when he opens it, and I know he's gonna want you there too. I was just on my way to get him out of class."

Carson grinned and took the letter, holding it to his chest and sighing. "He's going to be so excited! He's a finalist, I know he is. He's got to be."

Burt grinned back and put his arm around Carson's shoulder. "I hope so, kid. Come on, let's go find him."

They headed together down to Mr. Schue's classroom, where Kurt was sitting at his desk and dutifully copying Spanish notes from the whiteboard. Burt had a quick word with Mr. Schue, who nodded in understanding.

"Kurt?" he said. "Your dad and Carson want to talk to you." Kurt looked up and caught Carson's eye. Carson gave him a reassuring smile as Kurt gathered his things and followed them out into the hallway.

"What's wrong?" he asked nervously. "Is Blaine ok?"

"Who cares?" asked Carson.

"He's fine," Burt said, giving Carson a warning look. "The mail came." Kurt's already pale face grew even paler as Carson handed him the envelope. He took it with trembling hands, his eyes glued to the address in the top corner.

"NYADA," he breathed. "NYADA!" He started breathing hard, clutching the envelope in his hand and pacing the hall. "Oh god, I don't know if I want to open it! What if I'm not a finalist?"

"Kurt, please," said Carson, walking up to him and placing his hands on his shoulders. "There's no way you're not a finalist. Can you please open it before I die?"

Kurt gulped and nodded, going to tear the envelope open but stopping short of actually doing so. "Not here," he said, shaking his head. "Not out here in the hallway, it's too...it's not special enough." He thought for a minute before heading down the hallway, a determined look on his face. Carson and Burt looked at each other and followed him.

Kurt led them to various rooms, peering into each one briefly and shaking his head, apparently deciding that they weren't right. He finally ended up at the door to the choir room and nodded to himself before entering, Carson and Burt on his heels.

"Dude, come on! This is like, the fifth room we've been to!" their dad said exasperatedly. "What's wrong with the library? Or the lunchroom?"

"None of those felt right," answered Kurt. "This is it, Dad. This is one of those crossroad moments in life. Whatever's in this envelope is going to determine whether I go right or left."

"I'm here no matter what it says," Burt assured him. Carson nodded in agreement.

"You know you have me to lean on, Kurtsie," he said with a smile. "No matter what, you always have me."

Kurt smiled nervously and turned away from them, tearing the envelope open and removing the letter inside. Carson was practically hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation. Oh god, please, please, PLEASE let him be a finalist. He deserves it so much.

Kurt mumbled as he read the letter and then stood completely still, holding his head up and shaking slightly. He turned around to face them, looking like he was about to cry.

"What?" their dad asked.

"…...I'm a finalist!" Kurt said tearfully, a big smile spreading across his face as he started to laugh.

"YES!" Carson screeched, his whole body exploding with joy as he rushed over to Kurt and wrapped him in a hug, nearly knocking him down in the process. "Oh god, Kurtsie, I knew it! I knew you'd be one!" He heard their dad give a joyful shout and then he hugged both of them at the same time, lifting them both up into the air.

"Dad, your heart!" Kurt admonished him through his tears of happiness.

"Screw my heart!" Burt answered. "You did it! You did it, Kurt! Oh man, who's gonna tell Blaine? You have to let me do it!"

Carson shivered and felt a lead weight drop into his stomach at the mention of Blaine's name, but he shook it off. He didn't want to spoil Kurt's happy moment with negativity. Their dad let go, but Carson still clung to Kurt, one arm around his shoulder and the other resting on his waist as Kurt rested one hand on Carson's chest.

"Dad, are you crying?" asked Kurt.

"You beat them all," said Burt in a choked up voice. "You both did. They threw everything at you, they tried to beat you down, but you know what? You're unstoppable, Kurt. I'm so proud to be your dad. They can never take this away from you. Right now, in this moment, on this day, you won. I'm just so proud of both of you," he said, hugging them again.

He left them alone in the choir room after a few more minutes of celebration, and Kurt slowly sank down into the nearest chair, staring at his letter and shaking his head.

"I just...I can't believe it, Carsey," he said quietly. "This is my shot. I'm getting a chance, and I never even thought I would get that much, and I..I just..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning his eyes on Carson. "Please tell me I'll make it."

Carson smiled and sat beside him, putting one arm around his shoulder as Kurt rested his head on his chest. "You'll make it, baby. You'll audition and you'll kill it, I know it. One way or the other, your future is in New York. I promise."

"Have I ever mentioned that I love you?" asked Kurt, wiping his eyes with one hand.

"Hmmm...I don't recall you saying it lately," answered Carson. Kurt snorted.

"Well, I do. A lot," he said. Carson smiled and held him closer.

"Same here, Kurtsie. Same here. And I'm so proud of you."

"Santana, is this really necessary?" asked Carson exasperatedly as he waited outside the girls' bathroom for Santana to change her clothes. "You don't have to dress like Michael Jackson for this. The recorder will still fit just as well under your uniform. Hell, it would have been easier and faster just for me to wear the fucking thing."

"I'm trying to prove a point, Anderson Cooper, so yes, it's necessary," came Santana's irritated voice from the bathroom. "We're getting that confession and I'm going to prove to Preppy The Second that M.J. is ours for Regionals and that if he doesn't like it he can suck it."

Carson sighed and leaned against the wall. He had been ambushed by Santana in the journalism classroom the previous day after school and informed that he would be accompanying her to Dalton today in order to confront Sebastian and get him to somehow confess to what had been in the slushie that had unfortunately not blinded Blaine.

"I thought you'd be interested in coming along," she'd said. "I had a little talk with Kurt today, and he's, like, really upset about this."

"I know," Carson replied. "He's been really quiet and brooding. The whole thing really shook him up."

"I know you don't care what I think," said Santana, "but he was making a list of non-violent ways to get revenge, and if you ask me, I don't think his anger is entirely because of the Killer Slushie."

Carson narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Hello? Have you not noticed how steam practically starts pouring out of his ears whenever Sebastian hits on you? Like, he gets really pissed. More pissed than he ever gets when he hits on Bowties."

Carson shook his head. "Santana, come on, can you not?"

"I'm just saying, he obviously gets territorial, and it's kind of adorable," Santana insisted. "And I promised the boy we'd get our revenge on Richie Rich, so are you in or are you in?"

Carson sighed and locked eyes with her. "I'm in."

Which was why he was now standing impatiently outside the bathroom waiting for Santana to hurry up so they could go take care of business. Artie had hooked them up with a small tape recorder, which Santana was planning to strap to herself in order to get Sebastian confessing on tape. Kurt, thankfully, had gone over to Blaine's house straight after school and knew nothing of this plan, otherwise he probably would not have approved of Carson going. Carson was going to be in enough trouble as it was if Kurt found out that he had paid Finn to go with Rachel to Blaine's and make sure there was no funny business happening. Carson didn't trust Blaine not to beg for a sympathy blowjob or something.

"All set!" announced Santana, stepping out of the bathroom in a black suit, her hair out of its ponytail and adorned with a fedora. "Got the recorder strapped to my underboob."

Carson made a disgusted face. "Santana, I'm going to very politely ask you never to mention your boobs in front of me again, ok? Gross."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Shut up and let's go, Hummel."

They took Carson's car to Dalton, and Carson was pretty sure that they arrived at the school just in the nick of time because if Santana made one more Transformers or Chitty Chitty Bang Bang joke about the car, he was quite sure he would have ended up kicking her out and letting her walk the rest of the way.

"This is the room," Santana announced, discreetly reaching into her shirt and pressing the button on the recorder before leading Carson into what he assumed was Dalton's band room, in which sat about a zillion fancy cushioned chairs. The Warblers were entering the room at the same time from the opposite side.

It's on, bitch thought Carson, getting into the spirit of things. Kurt wants revenge, and revenge is what he will get.

"Hey, Andrew McCarthy," Santana said, greeting Sebastian. "Don't know if you heard, but Blaine may lose an eye. The same Blaine who was just besties with most of you not four months ago."

Carson rolled his eyes. I don't care so much about that.

"Wait, are you serious? Is he gonna be ok?" asked a random Warbler as Sebastian stared at them, arms crossed. He gave a suggestive eyebrow raise to Carson, who crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Sure, if he doesn't care about seeing in three dimensions," answered Santana.

"Trent, I got this," said Sebastian to the Warbler, turning back to Santana. "Bummer about Blaine. He was pretty," he said with a shrug. "He shouldn't have gotten in the way, though. That slushie was meant for Kurt."

Carson felt a surge of anger rush through his body. "Ok, bitch, should we take this outside?" he snapped. Santana put a hand on his shoulder in a silent plea for him to shut up. Carson took a deep breath and tried to cool down. They weren't supposed to be getting violent. Kurt wouldn't want that.

"Didn't peg you for the exhibitionist type," replied Sebastian with a wink. "But I'm flexible, if you're up for it." Carson rolled his eyes.

"You may look like the villain out of a cheesy '80s high school movie, but you should know that I am fully prepared to go all Danny LaRusso on your ass," said Santana. "Admit you put something in that slushie. What was it, huh? Glass? Asphalt?"

"Yes, Sebastard, just what was it that you put in the slushie that was intended to hit my brother?" snapped Carson. "I need to know so that I can fucking sneak it into your goddamn food, you asshole."

"Red dye number 6," said Sebastian cooly, as though discussing the weather.

"You're a liar," said Santana.

"She questioned my honor," said Sebastian pompously, turning to the Warblers in disbelief. "I demand satisfaction in Warbler tradition."

"How about you give me the satisfaction of shoving my foot up your ass?" muttered Carson.

"Kinky," said Sebastian, winking at him.

"I was going for painful," Carson shot back.

"You wanna have a duel?" asked Santana. "Cello guys, can you hang back for a second?"she asked, turning to a pair of cello players who Carson hadn't even noticed were in the room. "I'm gonna need you for this one."

"What the fuck?" asked Carson.

"Everyone else clear out," said Sebastian. "I don't want you to see me make a girl cry."

"Let's just keep this on point," replied Santana.

"Ok, can someone tell me just what the hell is going on here?" asked Carson. "What-"

The cello players started playing "Smooth Criminal," and Santana and Sebastian started circling around each other.

"You're having a fucking sing-off?" asked Carson in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

They were not kidding, it would seem. They sang the entire song while Carson watched them with his mouth agape, wondering when the hell this had become his life. Seriously, Santana, we just came for a confession. Must everything be settled with song?

"I was better," Santana said to Sebastian as they finished singing.

"You weren't even close," replied Sebastian, walking away.

"I was better," Santana insisted.

"I'm going to murder both of you in about five minutes," said Carson.

"Now tell me the truth," said Santana, following Sebastian and ignoring Carson. "What did you put in that slushie?"

"Rock salt," answered Sebastian nonchalantly."

"What the FUCK?" exclaimed Carson, walking over to Sebastian and grabbing him by the back of the blazer, forcing him to turn around and face him. "You put fucking rock salt into a slushie that you were planning on tossing into Kurt's face? What is wrong with you, asshole? You are so lucky that it hit Blimpie and not Kurt, because I'm not quite sure that I would be able to restrain myself from-"

Santana elbowed him in the ribs, silently reminding him that this entire conversation was being recorded and that he might want to shut up so that the police didn't hear him making threats when they played the tape. Carson took a deep breath and settled for giving Sebastian his best scowl.

"Yes, it was rock salt," said Sebastian, turning back around and facing away from them. "But it's ok."

"Why is it ok?" asked Santana. "I just told you that Blaine had to have surgery!"

"It's ok because I didn't put anything in this one," Sebastian replied, turning to face them and tossing a slushie in their direction. Most of it hit Santana, the remainder splashing off of her and hitting Carson. Sebastian grinned, tossed the cup into a nearby garbage can, and strolled out of the room.

"I hate him," said Carson. "Not as much as I hate Banjo, but I hate him."

"This bitch is going down," said Santana, angrily wiping the dripping slushie out of her eyes.

We got him, Kurtsie, thought Carson, gingerly running his finger through the slushie that had splashed on his hoodie. We got him.

"You have got to be kidding me," Carson said to Kurt the next afternoon as the Warblers filed out of the McKinley auditorium. He'd been so sure that Kurt had called the Warblers there in order to gloat that they finally had evidence against them to show the police, and Carson had been all set to point and laugh at Sebastian. Instead, he'd watched in horror as Kurt just handed Sebastian the very tape that should have been in the hands of law enforcement.

"I'm not kidding, Carson. We're not showing the police that tape," said Kurt with a shrug as he hopped down from the stage and walked over to him.

"Well yeah, not now! You just gave Chipmunk Face the damn tape!" exclaimed Carson. "I had to watch him and Santana sing a Michael Jackson duet in order to get that tape, Kurt. I almost died! And why don't you want to press charges against him? He was assaulting you! Brandon just got in the way."

Kurt closed his eyes and took Carson's hands. "I just...I want to be the bigger person. And I talked to Blaine about it, and he agreed that we shouldn't go to the police."

"I bet he did," muttered Carson. "Who would he sext with behind your back if Sebastian got put in juvie?"

"Carson, come on," said Kurt. "He's apologized for talking to Sebastian for so long. He promised he won't do it again."

"And you believe him?" asked Carson. Kurt looked down at the floor.

"I want to," he said. Carson sighed.

I guess I should count it as a win that I still have two weeks without Benny to look forward to while he recovers from his damn surgery, he thought. Maybe I'll even enjoy glee club. Who knows?

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. The next week started off with Coach Sylvester calling all the glee boys into the choir room for a private meeting that Carson severely hoped he would be able to scrub from his mind sometime between now and when he left for Chicago.

"Twice a day, you boys stain your mother's drapes or befoul a gym sock that has to jump from the hamper straight into therapy," she said as she sat facing them in Mr. Schue's chair. "Why not head down to the clinic and put your virile teen years to good use? You'll have five bucks more than when you walked in, and the gratitude of lonely ovaries everywhere."

"What the hell?" asked Carson, terrified at what she was saying. "Are...are you asking us for our sperm? You're a teacher, doesn't that violate some kind of school policy? Who do I complain to in order to get you fired?"

"I am indeed petitioning you boys for samples of your baby batter," she replied casually. "But not you," she added, pointing to Artie. "You can keep tossing your tissues into the trash."

"I was in an accident," said Artie.

"Still. Same goes for you, Porcelain," Coach Sylvester continued, pointing to Kurt. "Let the strangeness end with you."

Carson crossed his arms and glared at her. "I know you didn't just imply that Kurt's sperm is undesirable. You'd be extremely lucky to get it. His kids would be gorgeous." He didn't even think about what he'd said until he realized that everyone in the room was looking at him strangely, most of all Kurt, who was blushing as red as a tomato.

"I'm gonna pretend that I didn't hear the extremely weird and creepy thing you just said," replied Sue before Mr. Schue walked in and interrupted the meeting, much to Carson's relief.

As if it wasn't weird enough that they were being asked for sperm, apparently Mr. Schue had decided that it was Spanish music week and had brought in David Martinez, the Spanish teacher from his night classes, in order to assist with the lesson. Carson didn't even bother asking why Mr. Schue had to take Spanish classes if he was a Spanish teacher already, because he was too busy being driven insane with jealousy at the way Kurt kept checking David Martinez out.

"You're going to bore holes in his head from the way you're staring," muttered Carson.

"He's hot," said Kurt.

"I beg to differ," replied Carson, sulking in his chair. Kurt smiled at him and patted him on the arm.

"Don't be jealous, Carsey," he whispered, leaning over to kiss him quickly on the cheek. Carson felt his face heating up.

I'm not jealous, I'm just...protective. And...yeah, fuck, I'm jealous.

Kurt slumped against the choir room piano, hearing Sugar Motta talking about inviting the whole glee club to her Valentine's Day party, but not really listening. He was in such a funk lately, and he couldn't really explain why. He should have been happy. Blaine had come through his surgery just fine and his eye was expected to make a full recovery. They'd taken the high road with Sebastian. Kurt had been accepted as a finalist to audition for a spot at NYADA. He and Carson were both on their way to their dream futures, with any luck. So why did he feel so down?

The more he thought about it, the more he suspected that it had a lot to do with his ever more conflicting feelings for Blaine and for Carson. He was pretty sure he loved Blaine, but Carson...he wasn't sure there were even words anymore to describe how he felt about Carson. He supposed he could call it love, but that word didn't really feel right. He was certain that what he felt for Carson ran deeper than that. That kiss on New Year's Eve had opened up a whole other layer of his feelings that he hadn't even known he was capable of feeling. The spark he'd felt as they'd kissed was so intense he was surprised that the house hadn't burned down in the process. He'd never felt anything so powerful when he and Blaine kissed. It was nice, and it made Kurt feel wanted and loved, but it wasn't nearly as electric.

And aside from that, another nagging thought that refused to leave him alone was that Blaine didn't seem very excited or happy for him over his upcoming NYADA audition. Sure, he had congratulated him the day that Kurt, Finn, and Rachel had all been over at Blaine's house before his surgery, but Blaine had seemed a little indifferent as he acknowledged Kurt's good news. In fact, the topic of conversation had almost immediately changed to discussion about Michael week, and once Finn and Rachel left, Blaine had started begging for a blowjob. The subject of NYADA hadn't come up between them since. Whenever Kurt felt nerves creeping up on him and needed an ear to listen to him as he expressed his doubts and worries that he wouldn't be good enough for the school, he turned to Carson.

I'm just being selfish, he told himself. I shouldn't expect Blaine to worry about my problems when he has so many of his own.

So he put it out of his mind and tried to focus on enjoying what was left of his senior year. It turned out to be surprisingly easy, since he found a Valentine card from Blaine in his locker later that day. It featured a cat wearing footie pajamas with hearts on the front, and said "You're the cat's pajamas" inside. It was signed "From your secret admirer."

Oh, Blaine, thought Kurt giddily as he hugged the card to his chest. He wondered how the card had found its way into his locker, since Blaine was still in the hospital. Maybe Rachel was helping him.

"What the hell is that?" asked Carson, walking up to him and looking at the card with distaste. "Is that from Blitzen?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I guess it is," he said, placing the card into his bag and trying not to notice the sour look on Carson's face. "So, are you going to Sugar's party?"

"Um, no?" said Carson. "She said single people would be executed on sight."

"She did not," said Kurt, smiling and rolling his eyes. "You're such a drama queen. Just come with me, she won't say anything. Blaine probably won't be able to come, anyway."

"Did you just ask me out on a date?" asked Carson with a grin. Kurt felt his stomach do a flip.

"Yeah, I did. And surely you wouldn't reject your baby brother?" he replied, batting his eyelashes and sticking his bottom lip out. Carson sighed and shook his head.

"Well when you put it that way," he said. Kurt smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

He got another card in his locker the next day, and the day after that. They were all sighed "Secret Admirer," and Kurt couldn't help but think how adorable they were. Come on, Blaine, I know they're from you, honey. The third card had even been accompanied by a Gorilla Gram and a bouquet of balloons.

"How appropriate!" said Carson with a sarcastic smile as the balloons were delivered to their table in the cafeteria. "A gift that's full of air, just like Buster!"

"Oh, Carson, stop," said Kurt. "He's doing well for someone recovering from major surgery."

"It was surgery to repair a scratched cornea, it was hardly major surgery," said Carson. "They should have removed his ego while they were in there. That would have been major surgery."

Kurt couldn't do much except sigh and wonder for the millionth time why his life had to be so damn complicated all the time.

The Valentine cards continued arriving for the next two days, and Kurt just made sure to open them when Carson wasn't around. Thankfully, the Gorilla Gram guy hadn't come back, at least. Cards were easier to hide from Carson than balloon bunches and stuffed animals. He was about to close his locker on Friday afternoon and head for the hospital to give Blaine the Valentine card he'd made for him when a small envelope fell out and landed on his shoe. He picked it up curiously and looked at it. It was blue and said "To Kurt" in large, loopy handwriting on the front.

That's weird, he thought as he opened the envelope. I already got Blaine's card today. He removed the small card from inside the envelope and smiled. The front of the card featured a giant yellow sun against a clear blue sky. The sun had eyes and a smiling mouth, and the bottom of the card said "You Are My Sunshine." He opened the card and eagerly read the words inside.

Dear Kurt,

I just wanted to let you know that I think you're beautiful inside and out. You make my life brighter every day just by being in it, and there's no words that can ever express how much I love, care for, admire, and adore you. I know I'm not your Valentine, but I hope you don't mind if I consider you to be mine.

Love,

Someone

Kurt fought not to start tearing up as he read and re-read the note several times. Not just because the words were beautiful (they were), but because he was pretty positive that he knew who had written them. Carson had obviously tried to disguise his handwriting, but Kurt knew him too well. He would still recognize it anywhere.

Oh, Carson, baby, he thought, sighing as he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of lockers while holding the card to his chest. Honey, I don't know what to do.

He didn't even let on that he had found the card. He wasn't sure what he would say to Carson about it. If he pretended that he thought it was from Blaine, he knew Carson's feelings would be badly hurt, and yet he certainly couldn't let Carson know that he knew it was from him. So he said nothing. He just gently pressed the card into his senior year scrapbook when he got home that night, drawing a heart beside it with a red marker and stashing the scrapbook back under his side of the bed, right next to his wedding magazines. And then he made sure to snuggle extra close to Carson that night as they went to sleep.

I love you too, baby, he thought as he drifted off into dreams.

He was so preoccupied with that card and what it meant that he only felt a slight numbness when he arrived early to Sugar's party at Breadstix the next evening per the instructions on Blaine's latest card, only to discover that the cards and gifts he had been receiving all week long were from Karofsky, not Blaine. The realization that Blaine hadn't actually done anything for him for Valentine's Day barely had time to sink in after Karofsky left before he felt Carson sliding into the seat beside him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Malerie called and got halfway through the plot of Wuthering Heights before I finally managed to convince her to hang up. What did I miss? Where's Barney?"

"He's...he's not here," answered Kurt, trying to clear the fog in his brain. "He just got discharged this morning, so...I don't know, I guess maybe he isn't feeling up to it."

"I'm heartbroken," said Carson cheekily. Kurt smiled in spite of himself. He took Carson's hand in his and rested his head on his shoulder as the God Squad started performing the song Brittany had dedicated to Santana. He almost didn't even realize that he had been stroking Carson's knuckles with his thumb until he felt Carson start to do the same thing.

"I'm glad I'm here with you," Kurt said softly. "I can always count on you no matter what, and I just...I..." He wasn't sure what he was saying exactly, he just knew that Carson was so close and he smelled really good, and he was even wearing a red hoodie in the spirit of Valentine's Day, and oh my god how adorable was that, and it just felt so nice to be like this. Almost like they were on an actual date.

"Are you ok, Kurt?" asked Carson, frowning slightly. Kurt nodded.

"I just...I...I wanted to say..." Kurt swallowed. Just say it, Kurt. Say you love him. He couldn't get the words out, but his face was inching ever so slightly closer to Carson's, and he knew...he just knew...that they were going to kiss, and oh god we can't kiss here, not here in the middle of Breadstix...Carson's eyes were growing wide with shock and...anticipation, maybe? Kurt didn't know, but he knew he had no control over his lips right now and they were definitely going to touch Carson's any second unless something stopped them.

"Ok, everyone, it's time for my extra special guest!" said Sugar into her bedazzled pink microphone as the God Squad stopped singing. "Back from the dead and cute and compact as ever!" She gestured toward the restaurant's entrance, where a familiar figure turned around to face the guests.

"Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!" said Blaine as Kurt quickly withdrew his face away from Carson's and fixed his gaze up at the ceiling, biting his lip as Blaine ripped off his heart shaped eye patch and started singing "Love Shack." He chanced a glance at Carson, who was looking intently down at the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

"Guess Billy's made a full recovery," he mumbled. Kurt sighed.

"Yeah, I...I guess," he said as Blaine came up to them and shoved the microphone in Kurt's face, giving Carson a very brief, hard glare as he did so. It went by so quickly that it almost could have been missed completely, but it happened. And Carson glared right back at Blaine as Blaine pulled Kurt up by the tie. That happened, too. Kurt suddenly realized that he essentially had two men fighting over him, and he felt like he just wanted to disappear. Especially later that night when Blaine had practically thrown him down on his bed and climbed onto him, tearing off his clothes carelessly before Kurt could protest too much.

He was positive he'd breathed out "Carson" as he reached his release.

"Hmm, what?" asked Blaine lazily from beneath him.

Kurt bit his lip hard and tried to squelch the overwhelming hatred for himself he was feeling at the moment. "Nothing."

The week and a half leading up to Regionals was one of the most hectic weeks that Carson had ever experienced in his entire school career. With only two months left until graduation, the schoolwork was being piled on him and it seemed like it would never end. He would have to start studying for finals, like, last year if he wanted to do well on them. On top of that, he had the paper, the Writers' Club, such as it was, and the glee club, which, as usual, had yet to pick out their set list for Regionals. Carson didn't even care anymore. Let them skate by on songs they only pocked days ahead of the competition. He sometimes wondered if Kurt had ever found the Valentine card he left in his locker. He'd never seen Kurt with it, and the mystery of what happened to it weighed quite heavily on his mind.

Then Sebastian had apparently decided that it had been far too long since he'd fucked with them, because he had shown up at the Lima Bean one afternoon as Kurt and Rachel were looking through bridal magazines and Carson sat playing Angry Birds on his phone. He'd asked where "Gay Cyclops" was, and Carson hadn't been able to stop himself from snorting, because, well...it was funny.

"Was that a smile directed at me, Hot Hummel?" asked Sebastian with a sly grin. Carson quickly straightened his face.

"No," he said. "I still am inclined to think that you're an egotistical ass," said Carson.

"My offer still stands, you know," Sebastian replied. "If you ever want to have some fun..."

"You tried to blind my baby brother, why the hell would I consider fucking you?" asked Carson. "Fuck off."

Sebastian shrugged and then handed Rachel a photoshopped naked photo of Finn, threatening to post it online if she didn't drop out of Regionals.

"Rachel...I think you should totally sing at Regionals," said Carson with a big grin after he'd finally stopped laughing hysterically at the Finn photo. Rachel and Kurt had both given him withering stares.

"What?" he said. "I...I think..." he snorted and tried to catch his breath. "I think the photo is beautiful!"

So, for the most part, it had been a very busy week. And then to top it all, he'd woken up one morning to find Kurt sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand. He was sniffling, and Carson was instantly alarmed.

"Kurtsie?" he said, rushing to sit beside him and place his arms around him. "What's wrong?"

"Mercedes called," said Kurt between sniffs. "Karofsky tried to kill himself yesterday."

"Oh," said Carson, not sure what to say. "That's...I mean, is he ok?"

Kurt nodded. "He'll live. I just...oh, Carson, I feel like it's my fault."

Carson hugged him tight, stroking his hair as Kurt cried softly into his shoulder. "Kurtsie, no. It's not your fault. Why would you even say that?"

"He asked me out on Valentine's Day," said Kurt. "Those cards, the Gorilla Grams, the balloons...those weren't even from Blaine, they were from him. And I turned him down, of course, and now...now this."

Carson sucked in a breath. He didn't say any of the million things that had just popped into his head at this revelation. He just held Kurt as he finished crying, and then they'd gotten ready for school, and Kurt hadn't seemed to want to talk anymore, so Carson had respected that.

Karofsky's attempted suicide had cast a pall over the whole glee club. It seemed everyone had been affected by it in some way, and Carson really couldn't understand why. Even Sebastian seemed to have been affected by it, calling them to a meeting at the Lima Bean and essentially profusely apologizing for being a raging dickhole for all the time they'd known him. It was weird.

Carson briefly wondered if maybe he should feel more sympathy, and then he remembered the months of torturous hell that Karofsky had put Kurt through. How he'd caused so many bruises and nightmares and tear-filled nights that Carson had watched Kurt go through. How he was the entire reason that Kurt had gone to Dalton, and the reason the pox known as Blaine Anderson had entered their lives and refused to leave.

You know what? Nope. I feel no sympathy for him. He decided he would skip the next glee meeting and hold an impromptu meeting of the Writers' Club with Malerie instead. He stared out the window at the pouring rain as Malerie recounted the major plot points of her latest "short story," which was actually A Series of Unfortunate Events. It had been raining a lot this week. He'd have to remember to start carrying an umbrella if there were going to be a lot of spring storms.

"Malerie," he interrupted her gently as he saw Kurt hanging by the door to the journalism classroom. "I, um...how about we call it a day?" She nodded and closed her notebook, gathering her camera and giving him a wave as she headed out of the room. Kurt smiled at her and came inside, shutting the door behind him. He looked depressed.

"Are you ok?" asked Carson. Kurt hesitated for a minute, then shook his head.

"We were talking in glee," he said as he perched himself on the edge of Carson's desk. "About...about Karofsky, and..." He sighed and lightly kicked his feet against the desk. Carson reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"Kurt, I know you're still upset and you think it's your fault, but baby, I promise you, it wasn't. You had zero obligation to him when he asked you out, which I still can't believe he did. He made your life hell. He beat you, he sexually assaulted you, he terrorized you and drove you out of your own school. He threatened to kill you, Kurt. What were you supposed to do, just forget that happened? He made his choices, and none of them were your fault, ok?"

Kurt was silent for a minute and then he locked eyes with Carson. "It wasn't just that, it was...I mean, I don't know what's wrong with my brain, but the whole time we were talking in the auditorium I just kept thinking about what would happen if I ever lost someone I care about really deeply, like...like Dad, or Blaine, or...or you...and I guess I just..." He let out a shaky breath. "I just had a moment where I imagined how terrible I would feel." His eyes started to fill up with tears, and Carson was on his feet in an instant, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Kurt, please stop thinking that way. You won't lose any of us. Not for a long time, ok?" he soothed, rubbing Kurt's back slowly. He shivered slightly as he felt Kurt shift and plant a soft, warm kiss right on his neck.

"I love you," he whispered. Carson smiled when he'd caught his breath again.

"I love you, too, Kurtsie."

Kurt glanced out the choir room window at the pouring rain, wondering where Carson was and trying not to worry too much. He knew Regionals was today, he would surely show up soon, right? Kurt had popped into the journalism classroom briefly after the last period of the day, and Carson had been hunched over his laptop. He'd apparently spent the whole afternoon boxing up all the unsold copies of the literary magazine (which was nearly all of them). The classroom was littered with boxes.

"I'm just finishing up a few articles for the paper, and then I'm going to drive to Sunny Pastures and drop these off," Carson had said, indicating the boxes. "They're pretty much just taking up space, and if I don't do it now I'll end up forgetting and they'll just lay around here until we graduate. At least at the home they'll be read. Or chewed."

"Ok, but don't be late coming back for Regionals," said Kurt. "Oh, and take your umbrella with you, ok? It's supposed to rain."

"Yes, mom," teased Carson.

That had been four hours ago, and Kurt hadn't heard a word from Carson since he'd left the classroom. It was getting really close to showtime, too. Like, dangerously close. And Carson hadn't answered any of Kurt's calls or texts.

Stop worrying, stop worrying, stop worrying, Kurt repeated to himself. You're always teasing Carson for worrying, so don't you start too. He's fine. I'm sure he's fine. Yeah, it's raining, but...I mean, he's a careful driver. He'll be here any minute. Aaaany minute.

Ten minutes later, Kurt had progressed from worrying to full on panicking. He'd called Carson several more times, only ever getting "Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."

"Where is he?" he asked to no one in particular. "Why hasn't he shown up?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Kurt," said Blaine, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders from behind. "He'll be here before the competition starts."

"It's raining, Blaine!" said Kurt, shrugging Blaine's hands off of him. "It's a freaking mess out there! It's pouring and thundering and lightning! And he hasn't answered any of my calls, and that's not like him. His car is a useless piece of shit. What if he's been in an accident or something? What if he's laying dead in the road somewhere? Oh god, and I never...I never told him..."

"Never told him what?" asked Blaine, frowning. Kurt shook his head.

"Nothing, Blaine, just...I'm really worried, and he never does this! He always calls or sends a text, and...and..." Kurt felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes. "Where is he?"

"Kurt, he's probably fine," said Blaine. "Maybe he got held up."

"Oh god, I didn't even think about that!" exclaimed Kurt, misunderstanding what Blaine meant. "What if he's been robbed at gunpoint? What if-"

That was the moment Carson finally entered the choir room, looking soaked to the bone but otherwise very much alive and well.

"Carson!" Kurt exclaimed, knocking down several chairs and a stool in his hurry to throw his arms around him. "Carson, oh my god! Where were you? I was so worried, and it was raining and I didn't know if you'd been hurt, and you didn't answer your phone, and why didn't you call me and tell me you'd be late, you bastard?"

"Whoa, Kurtsie, baby, you...you're shaking," said Carson quietly as he hugged Kurt back. "I'm fine, honey. I didn't answer my phone because it was raining. I can barely drive that death trap when it's sunny outside." Kurt felt his hands on his back rubbing soft circles as Carson placed a gentle kiss to his temple. "I'm fine," he repeated softly. "I'm ok. I've got you."

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," Kurt ordered as he hugged Carson tighter to him. "I thought you were dead."

They stood in the corner of the choir room for several minutes like that, ignoring everyone around them. Kurt caught Santana giving them an interested look out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it. Screw her. He'd just had a scare and he was in no mood.

"I hate to interrupt this, um...happy little reunion," said Blaine's voice, which was laced with a slight irritability, "But the competition starts in five minutes and we need to be in our seats. And you have to be in costume," he added, speaking to Carson. "So..."

Carson kissed Kurt's hair once more and patted him gently on the back before prying himself loose from his grip. "Yeah, ok. I'll be back, Kurt, ok? I'm just gonna go change and then I'll meet you in the auditorium." Kurt nodded and watched him go, letting out a sigh of relief. Carson was still alive. Kurt hadn't lost him.

"Come on," said Blaine, grabbing him by the wrist and almost dragging him out of the choir room behind the rest of the club. "Let's go find our seats."