Nervous didn't even begin to describe the way Carson felt when he woke up the next morning, his head leaning against Kurt's chest and his twin's arms wrapped securely around him. Today he was actually bringing Kurt to therapy with him. Therapy. He was honestly surprised that he was even able to reach that decision without severely freaking out, but here he was. Waking up on a Saturday morning, about to let the love of his life see him attend a session with a mental health professional.

The amount of convincing he'd had to do to himself to get to that place was astonishing. He'd been considering it for weeks. He'd even come close to actually asking Kurt several times before, but he'd always lost his nerve. What if he doesn't really want to go? What if he just goes to humor me? What if he goes and then he decides that I really am a crazy piece of shit and that he'd be much better off hopping the first plane back to New York and finding that Adam guy from Facebook? Adam doesn't have a shit ton of mental problems to deal with, after all.

It had taken him a very long time to get to a place where he could tell himself to calm down. That Kurt loved him and truly cared for him, and that he ultimately wouldn't think any less of him for having an anxiety disorder, or because he still suffered from episodes of depression occasionally. That he deserved the love and devotion Kurt was unfailingly showing him, and that Kurt wanted to help him with his recovery. He still had his moments where he doubted all of those things, but he knew now that it was only his low self esteem talking and that he needed to fight it with everything he had in him.

And he would. Because now that he had Kurt back, he finally had something to fight for.

"Kurtsie," he whispered, gently shaking Kurt by the shoulder. "Kurtsie, honey?"

"Hrrmphum," Kurt mumbled, sniffling in his sleep. Carson smiled to himself. There were few things more adorable than a half asleep Kurt, unless it was a half asleep Kurtsie Kitty, who was currently snoozing peacefully on the top of Carson's pillow.

"Kurt, we have to get up. My therapy appointment is this morning," said Carson, hating that he had to disturb Kurt's sleep like this. "Unless you want to sleep. You can, if you want. It's no big deal. You can always just come to the next one..."

"No! No, I'm up," said Kurt, his eyes flying open quickly as he rubbed at them with one hand. "I'm not missing this. Just give me a minute."

"Ok," said Carson, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "At least we showered last night. How about I make you breakfast for a change while you wake yourself up?"

Kurt smiled, settling his head back against the pillow. "That'd be nice. What are you eating?"

"A huge bowl of my Lucky Charms," replied Carson, sliding regretfully out of bed as Kurtsie Kitty picked up on the fact that there was conversation about food happening around him and followed him, as though he hadn't just been sleeping two seconds before. "What would you like?"

"Do we have any Rooster O's left?" asked Kurt.

"You mean Cock Rings? Yes, we have about half a box," replied Carson with a grin.

"They're called Rooster O's," said Kurt.

"One bowl of Cock Rings, coming right up," said Carson brightly, walking out of the bedroom as Kurt half heartedly threw a pillow at him. Kurtsie Kitty was hot at his heels, wrapping himself around Carson's ankles and meowing insistently as soon as they entered the kitchen.

"I know, little guy. Don't worry, I'm gonna feed you first," cooed Carson, leaning down to pet the cat's head as he reached into the cupboard for a can of cat food. "It's a big day for me, little guy," he said as he opened the can and got out a spoon. "Kurt is coming with me to therapy, and I'm nervous. I don't know what he's going to think of the whole thing. Or what Dr. McNeil will say to him. I just want everything to go well, you know?"

Kurtsie Kitty didn't answer him, except to meow more insistently until Carson had finished spooning the can of food into his dish. He dug right in, practically inhaling half the food before Carson even had time to finish filling his water dish.

"Jesus, kitty," he said incredulously. "I'll never cease to be amazed at your appetite." He set about getting bowls, spoons, and cereal boxes out, and had everything set neatly on the table by the time Kurt wandered in, yawning and dressed in a pair of Carson's pajama pants and a hoodie. Carson wasn't sure why he found it so hot when Kurt wore his clothes, but he couldn't deny that there was definitely something very sexy about seeing Kurt in grungy clothes, his hair still messed up and his eyes still bleary with sleep.

I'm so fucking weird.

"Hey, beautiful," he said brightly, pouring some Rooster O's into a bowl and setting it at Kurt's place.

"Beautiful hell," Kurt replied. "I'm a mess."

"No you're not," Carson protested. "You're gorgeous like this. You look like you spent the night being well fucked."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "Is my memory failing me, or did I not spend the night getting well fucked? We didn't exactly go right to sleep after we came back home from our brief foray into a life of crime."

Carson felt himself blushing as he poured his Lucky Charms into his own bowl. "Well, it's kind of your fault for suggesting that we shower together."

"It's just as much your fault for having the utter inability to keep your hands to yourself whenever we shower together," Kurt pointed out with a smile as he poured milk onto his cereal. "Not that I'm complaining, you understand. I never thought being fucked right into the shower wall would be so sexy, but I was proven wrong last night."

"See? We had fun," said Carson, pouring milk onto his Lucky Charms and digging a spoon into the bowl. "Now, eat your Cock Rings."

"Don't mind if I do," said Kurt happily, spooning some Rooster O's into his mouth and smiling across the table at Carson. "Have you noticed that you're eating again? I mean, without me having to beg you."

Carson looked at him curiously. "I guess so," he replied through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. Come to think of it, he had gotten a bit of an appetite back ever since Kurt had come back to him. He supposed that had a lot to do with the fact that he felt a bit happier in general now that he wasn't facing his days alone with his damaging, self destructive thoughts. "I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoy eating."

"See that you never forget again," said Kurt, reaching across the table to hold Carson's hand.

"I won't," Carson promised, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze. They ate the rest of their breakfasts in silence, shooting the occasional smile or shy look to each other, and Carson tried for the millionth time to convince himself that it would be a good day. That everything would be fine. He loves me. He cares about me. He wants to be a part of my healing process, and he's coming with me to support me. Because he loves me. And I deserve that love. I do. He loves me.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

"I love you," Kurt whispered into his ear later that morning, after they'd gotten off their bus and navigated their way to the sprawling office building that housed the mental health clinic. "I know this is hard for you, but I just want you to know that I love you so much for trusting me to come here with you. Ok?"

Carson smiled, putting an arm around Kurt's waist and pulling him close for a side hug. He looked around quickly before sneaking a kiss on Kurt's lips. "I know. I love you too."

"Ok, let's do this," said Kurt as they entered the building together. Carson checked in with the receptionist and sat down beside Kurt in the waiting room. His twin had managed to find the only issue of Vogue in the entire room and was paging through it thoughtfully, occasionally making a face at various outfits that Carson supposed he didn't approve of. Seeing him reading Vogue made his stomach twist as he remembered that he still hadn't come up with a solution for what to do after the summer ended. He definitely didn't want Kurt staying in Chicago and missing out on his job and his classes at NYADA. Sure, Isabelle Wright was being an absolute angel and giving him an extended leave to be here with Carson right now, but surely that wasn't going to last forever. She'd certainly want him back at some point or have to let him go, and Carson didn't want that to happen. The guilt would kill him.

There has to be something we can do for my last year here, he mused, biting his lip in frustration as he strained his brain to come up with something. Just like the last few hundred times he'd done this, nothing whatsoever came to him, and he heaved a huge, frustrated sigh.

"You ok?" asked Kurt, sounding concerned as he looked up from his magazine and over at Carson. Carson nodded quickly.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he insisted. He knew better than to bring the subject up to Kurt by now. His twin would only stubbornly insist that he was staying in Chicago and that if Carson had any ideas about separating for a year, then he could just forget them right that instant.

But Kurt, you don't understand, I don't want to be the reason that you put your entire future on hold. I'd feel terrible about it, no matter how much you insist that it doesn't bother you.

"Mr. Hummel? Dr. McNeil will see you now," the receptionist announced, jarring Carson right out of his thoughts.

"Ok, thank you," he said, standing up as Kurt put down the magazine and did the same.

"Ready?" asked Kurt, giving him a reassuring smile.

"As ready as I'll ever be," replied Carson, taking Kurt's hand and leading him through the door and down the hallway that led to Dr. McNeil's office. He took a deep breath and poked his head around the corner of the door frame, suddenly shy about entering.

"Carson! Come on in," said Dr. McNeil, waving him and Kurt inside. Carson entered the office, still holding tightly to Kurt's hand and trying to swallow down his nervousness. Please, let this go well.

"Um, hi," he said awkwardly, looking from Kurt to the doctor and then down at the floor. "Dr. McNeil, this is my-"

"Kurt," said Dr. McNeil, getting up from her chair and extending her hand out for Kurt to shake. "I'm Carson's doctor, Dr. McNeil. Your brother has told me so much about you, Kurt. I almost feel as though I know you."

"Really?" replied Kurt, a small smile spreading across his face. "All good things, I hope."

"Nothing but glowing reviews," said Dr. McNeil with a grin. "You're certainly the apple of his eye. To hear him talk, one would think you'd hung the moon and the stars."

"Is that so?" said Kurt, smiling widely now and squeezing Carson's hand.

"Anyway," said Carson, feeling himself blushing furiously now, "I brought Kurt with me today because, well... I guess, now that he's... um... back in my life... I want him to be a part of the process from now on. You know... the healing process. And stuff." He felt like an absolute idiot.

"And I just want to do anything that I can to support him," Kurt added as all three of them took seats. "As his... his brother... I want to help him through this in any way possible."

"Of course," said Dr. McNeil. "Very understandable. In fact, if I may say so, I think that this will be a good thing for you, Carson. I've certainly noticed a marked change in you ever since you and Kurt have reunited. You've seemed significantly happier than in past sessions."

"Really?" asked Kurt.

"Very much so," replied Dr. McNeil. "In fact, it was almost like someone flipped a switch. Oh, it was very subtle at first, but there was no mistaking that something had definitely changed for the better."

It was Kurt, thought Carson, feeling himself smiling slightly as he blushed down at his feet. He appeared like an angel out of nowhere and set me free. Or, at least, is slowly setting me free. Progress. And to think that I kind of owe all of this to Santana.

Santana. Fuck. I never really thanked her properly, did I? All I did was yell at her and be an ungrateful little shit. I should talk to her and tell her that I forgive her.

It was an interesting counseling session, for sure. Dr. McNeil seemed very interested in Kurt, and spent a great deal of time asking him much of the same questions that she had asked Carson so many times before, about their childhood, their interaction, their relationship with their parents and so forth. Carson couldn't help but grin to himself as Kurt gave her almost exactly the same answers for most of the questions as Carson himself had.

Two peas in a pod when it comes to some things, I swear.

"She was nice," said Kurt brightly as they made their way home that day. "I'm really glad that she outlined your treatment plan for me. I really feel like we're in this together now."

Carson squeezed his hand, bumping their shoulders together affectionately. "I'm relieved."

"Relieved?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah. I was so nervous about you coming with me today. Like... even though you've seen me in the middle of panic attacks, I thought somehow that bringing you to Dr. McNeil's with me would be too much for you to handle," Carson said. "That you'd think I was some weirdo or something."

"Oh, honey," said Kurt, stopping right in the middle of the street to give him a hug. "Never would I ever think that way about you. Understand?"

Carson nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Good," said Kurt, parting from the hug and taking Carson's hand again in his own.

"I think I need to talk to Santana," Carson blurted out as they walked down the street toward the bus stop. "I... I never really thanked her. If it wasn't for her, I might not have you back with me right now, because I was too busy being an asshole. She did us both a huge favor, you know?"

Kurt smiled and nodded in agreement. "I know. Maybe you should call her today."

"I think I will," said Carson. I will. It'll be nice to talk to her, anyway. I kind of miss her.

He took the opportunity later that night, as Kurt disappeared into the bathroom to perform his rigorous nightly skin care regimen. Carson figured that he had at least forty-five minutes, since Kurt was very thorough when it came to his skin. He settled himself comfortably down on the bed with Kurtsie Kitty in his lap and his phone in hand.

"Let's call Aunt Santana, little guy," he said out loud as he dialed Santana's number. "I think we owe her a lot, don't you agree?" Kurtsie Kitty only swished his tail in response and began delicately licking his paw.

"Well, if it isn't Diane Sawyer," came Santana's familiar voice after the third ring.

"Hi, Santana," said Carson, absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on the comforter in front of him. "Um... how are you?" Well, this is just awkward as hell, isn't it?

"I'm good," she replied. "Um... how are you?"

"Good," said Carson.

"Look, Carson, I just hope you know that I'm really sorry for telling Kurt what I saw," Santana suddenly blurted out. "But you looked like complete shit, no offense, and I was really worried, because, well... ok, like I've said to Kurt, and if you ever tell anyone else that I said this, I'll deny it until the fucking cows come home, but I kind of think of you and Kurt as family. Like... I don't know... like the brothers I never had, I guess. And seeing you looking all depressed and skinny scared the shit out of me. I had to tell Kurt."

Carson was silent for a minute, absorbing all the information he'd just heard. Santana thought of him like family? He wasn't sure whether he should be touched or creeped out.

"I forgive you," he said. "I really do. Actually, that was the reason I called. I, um... I wanted to thank you. For telling Kurt. I mean, I wanted to strangle you and hide the body under the floorboards at the time, but I know now that you were only doing it for my own good. And you have no idea how much it means to me to have Kurt back in my life, so... I guess... thank you." He took a deep breath, feeling good and proud of himself for actually being able to thank someone with limited awkwardness, for once in his life.

"You're welcome," replied Santana.

"So..." said Carson, feeling awkwardness beginning to settle in now that he had no idea what to say to her.

"So, now you can make it up to me by spilling some dirty details about your reignited sex life," said Santana cheerfully, and Carson could practically see her sitting with her legs crossed, examining the nails of one hand nonchalantly as she spoke. "Confession time. How many places have you guys done the dirty in?"

"None of your fucking business," said Carson, smiling to himself. "I don't kiss and tell, as I've told you multiple times."

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on, I'm the one who got you together in the first place and then back together," Santana whined.

"Nope," said Carson.

"You suck," Santana pouted. "Ok, fine. Don't tell me. So, is Kurt moving residence to Chicago permanently now that you're all in love again?"

"Oh god, no," said Carson, shaking his head as if she could see him do it. "I have a year left here at Northwestern, and I don't know what we're going to do when the summer is over, but I really don't want to be responsible for him delaying NYADA for a year. But he's insisting on staying, and I don't know what to do. He doesn't want me alone, which I understand. I really, really do. And I don't want to be apart from him, either, but... oh, I don't know. Everything is so fucking complicated."

"So what if he defers NYADA for a year?" asked Santana. "It's just a year, not forever."

"I know, but do you have any idea how guilty I would feel if he put his future on hold just because of me?" asked Carson. "The last thing I need is more guilt. And the last thing he needs is to stop his life to take care of his crazy ass brother lover. I don't want that for him. I really don't."

Santana was silent for a minute, causing Carson to have to take the phone away from his ear for a second to make sure that he hadn't dropped the call. "Santana? You there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah... I'm still here, Katie Couric. I just... I was thinking."

"About?"

"Well... ok, just hear me out. You don't want Kurt to stay in Chicago while you finish school because that will delay his future or whatever the hell. Right?"

"Right," replied Carson, wondering where the hell she was going with this.

"Ok. And obviously, Kurt doesn't want to leave you alone because he's worried. Right?"

"Right," said Carson.

"Why don't I just come live with you for a year?" Santana asked.

Carson was rendered completely speechless for a minute before he found his voice. "What the fuck?"

"I said, why don't I just come live with you for a year?" Santana repeated. "Look, I have nothing actually keeping me here in New York. I'm not in school and I'm working three dead end jobs to pay my share of the rent of this hell hole that I have to share with Berry and Blowties. Trust me, living with you would be a fucking relief. And then Kurt could continue at NYADA without worrying about you being alone. Get it?"

"But... I mean... why..." Carson sputtered.

"Oh, please. You know what? We're doing it," Santana said determinedly. "I think it's brilliant."

"But... Kurt will never agree to this," Carson protested. "And where is he going to live? I don't want him living at the loft with Blaine. I don't ever want him anywhere near Blaine again."

"Well, I'm sure he can find a little place for himself," said Santana. "Or, you know, we can kick Blaine out, since his gelled ass shouldn't even be living here anyway. I've been more than patient with not confronting that little bitchlet, and I'm just about at the end of my rope. That asshole practically called me a whore the other day just because one of my jobs happens to involve cage dancing."

"I'm sorry, why has he not been kicked out yet?" asked Carson, anger beginning to rise in him as he thought about Blaine living in the loft, the loft that should have been Kurt's (and Rachel's and Santana's) sanctuary. Living there when he had no fucking right, and disrespecting the people that did have a right to be living there, on top of it. It wasn't fair.

"Because he pays practically all the rent, and Berry isn't about to let him go," replied Santana sullenly. "If I was able to find my own place that I could actually afford by myself, I'd have been out of here ages ago... you, um... you do know why he was living here, don't you?"

"Yes," Carson grumbled. "And if I didn't think he was a complete asshole before, which I did, I have undeniable proof now. I don't know who the fuck he thinks he is, blackmailing Kurt like that, but he can't get away with it. I just wish I knew how to make him pay."

"I feel you," said Santana.

"And now I'm nervous about Kurt being in New York alone," said Carson. "With that jackass running around the city unsupervised, I don't trust him not to stalk Kurt. What if he gets him somewhere alone, and... and... fuck, why does everything have to be so goddamn complicated?"

"I might have an idea," said Santana.

"What?"

"I... I might have... you know what? I'll call you tomorrow," she said quickly, sounding excited about something.

"Santana, you can't just do that to me... Santana? Santana!" Carson shouted into the phone, but it was too late. She had already hung up. Not a moment too soon, because Kurt walked back into the bedroom at that moment, dressed in his own silky pajamas and smelling like a pleasant combination of all his various fruit scented face creams.

"What did Santana do to you?" he asked curiously, hopping onto the bed and snuggling up to Carson's side. "Do I need to kick her ass?"

"No," said Carson, throwing his arms around Kurt and inhaling the clean scent of his hair. Actually, we both may need to KISS her ass, depending on what her idea is.

"Did she sound ok?" asked Kurt, sounding slightly worried.

"Yeah. Yeah, she sounded fine," replied Carson.

"I just don't like her being there alone with Blaine all the time while Rachel is out," said Kurt. "I'm not sure if he knows she stole money from him to come here and find you."

"She did?" asked Carson, smiling at the thought. "Go Santana."

"Yeah, she did, and I'm scared of what he'd do to her if he knew," murmured Kurt. "I wish she'd just move out. Rachel, too. Let him live at the loft by himself."

Well, Kurt, thought Carson, smiling as he kissed Kurt's hair, you just might get most of that wish. And have the problem of leaving me alone solved at the same time.