It’s a little bit of stop and start after that. Weeks of closeness and tenderness and a feeling of being open and able to breathe, and it’s like a sigh. The kind when you sink into a bathtub, warm and all of the stress you’re carrying is just washed away.

Sometimes there are stops. Nights when Kurt comes home from rehearsal and Blaine feels tense and unsure, uncomfortable with the idea of Kurt and Jason sharing any sort of space together. Nights out with Kurt’s friends when he sits on pins and needles, waiting for Jason to show up, smug and knowing and trying to insinuate himself in Kurt’s life.
 
But there are other moments. Other days that make up for quite a lot. The day that Kurt finally has enough and slaps Jason, hard, in the middle of rehearsal, is priceless and in the wake of Blaine’s easing fears, hilarious.  That night, Blaine lies awake, thankful and a little turned on, marveling that he can think about Jason in the context of laughter. When he turns to Kurt, pulling him in and waking him with rough lips and love laced fingers, Kurt doesn’t complain, breathing relief and wanting onto Blaine’s warm skin. They don’t speak about it, but both of them had been waiting for these moments, easy and comfortable, yearning, and each reunion is completion and promise and terrifyingly intimate.

The worst are the days when Kurt hasn’t done anything. When Kurt is nothing short of flawlessly beautiful and composed on his way to classes, portfolio heavy under his arm, and Blaine has to stop himself from grabbing him and sucking a dark bruise on his neck. Has to restrain himself before he pushes Kurt against a wall, whispering words like mine, and no one else.  These are days when Blaine is short tempered, finding fault with everything, dragging them both through pointless arguments.  These days usually end with them on the couch, facing each other, Kurt forcing him to talk, pushing until Blaine manages to find some way, some words, to express how insecure and scared he feels.
 
They do this, this cycle of loving and arguing. And Kurt is brilliant, patient and ready. He is so much stronger, Blaine realizes, so much more sure of who he is, so much more resilient than he. Blaine has the presence of mind, at least, to be grateful for Kurt’s patience because he knows that he’s been trying it, and often. He’s even more grateful for the day when Kurt finally gives in to his exasperation and snaps, giving in to the full weight of his sharp words and sarcasm, all jerky hands and sudden movement, pushing and pushing and pushing at Blaine’s buttons. He’s Kurt at his very best, raised voice and bitchy face, asking when Blaine is going to grow up enough to figure out how to talk about his feelings without having to hold his hand like a child. Wondering when Blaine is going to man up and deal with his feelings.

                                       
Before he knows it, Kurt finds his Marc Jacobs shirt is torn and he’s on his knees, not by force but by choice, begging with his hands and eyes, begging Blaine to just give in, digging his fingers and nails into Blaine’s ass, each nail prick a sharp little question mark. And so Blaine answers, fucking into Kurt’s mouth careless and rough, hands in Kurt’s hair and ears deaf to all but the roaring of his blood. When it is over he pulls Kurt close, where they lay on the floor, he’s a little ashamed and, somehow, proud. Kurt laughs weakly, kissing Blaine with a sweetness that seems far outside the situation. Kurt carries bruises for days.

But it’s ok, because he buries and soothes Blaine’s embarrassment and apologies the next morning, fingers tracing over inches of creamy soft skin, marked and owned and Kurt is so obviously turned on and smug and they both realize, for the first time, that they are ok with it. With the idea of ownership because it’s a road that goes both ways. When Kurt looks at him, fingers pressed into the bruises on his hips, his eyes are dark and smiling and they both know how helpless Blaine is as well.
 
That night, in bed, Kurt kisses him so sweetly, and he can’t breathe. Can’t breath for the force of love and acceptance and understanding. 
 
“Why aren’t you angry?” He whispers into the giving of Kurt’s skin, wondering how it could ever be acceptable, rough treatment and ownership and Kurt is laughing, fingers running all over him. Blaine shivers in their wake, looking into Kurt’s eyes, wonderful green in the barely lit room.  “Why do you seem so happy about this?”
 
“I just want you to feel what you are feeling, Blaine. I want you to be angry when you feel it. I want you to tell me. I’m not fragile, you won’t break me.” They stare at each other for long moments, Blaine’s heart beating painfully hard, so aware of his failings and weaknesses.
 
“I know you aren’t.” He whispers it, turning his face and hiding in the curve of Kurt’s neck, feeling young and unsure, “I’m the one who is weak.” 
 
They stop talking then, Blaine kissing away Kurt’s denials,  threading fingers into Kurt’s hair and skin and tangling himself so deep, so deep in love with this man.

It isn’t always perfect. Because they have work to do, and Blaine, Blaine has a lot of learning to do. About himself, and who he thinks he is. Somehow,some where in these past six years, he’s come to depend on Kurt too much. Come to see himself and depend on himself as a part of a bigger unit in a way that has almost destroyed him. Kurt’s actions shook them, but they almost destroyed Blaine. The realization that he didn’t even know himself unless it was as an extension of Kurt, as a part of that unit, KurtandBlaine, is a scary one. He knows now, the he needs to learn. To depend on Kurt again, to trust him again, but without being so dangerously co dependant. Without losing himself as an autonomous person. To be a part of a unit and whole within himself.
 
And there are times when they have to sit down, distance carefully placed between them on the couch. When they talk into the night, and the words are hard and often one or both of them ends up crying. When they unpack their problems and examine them. They talk about Blaine’s father and their relationship, why Blaine has needed this, this oneness with Kurt that he’d idealized and built up and depended on far too much.
 
It’s disheartening for them both when these nights come to a close and Blaine has to carefully repack those problems, not quite ready to let go yet, still working to build that bridge, stacking words and promises and tentative feelings of safety into something that is almost shaped like trust. Blaine had tried to explain the bridge metaphor, but there had been something thrown in there about jewelry and tying Kurt up (only not in a sexy way) and he hadn’t really been able to articulate any of it clearly, so Kurt had just smiled and held his hand and trusted that this was going to work.

These are nights when they go to bed wrapped in silence, alone. Kurt takes solace in Blaine’s presence in their bed, warm and heavy in sleep, but too far away. They don’t reach for each other on these nights; they wait.  Kurt lies awake, renewing his promise to never again go to bed angry. This isn’t anger, it’s patience and deep, abiding love.  He watches Blaine dreaming, finger’s tracing the air just over his heart, the lines of his veins, waiting.