"Oh, my God," Kurt groaned to Rachel as they exited their dance class in full rehearsal garb--read: matching legwarmers. "I literally thought I was going to collapse back there."

Rachel made a very loud noise of sympathy. "I hear you. Davis is tough, but it's nothing two stars like us can't handle. I'm just looking forward to going home and watching mindless TV for a few hours."

Kurt looked at her incredulously. "Rachel Berry doesn't do that!"

The two of them giggled, opening the door into the cool fall air. "True," Rachel replied, "but oh, Kurt, I wish I could."

They meandered to their usual place on the steps of the palatial Dance building to wait for Blaine and Finn to meet them. The four had made a ritual out of getting some food after Kurt and Rachel finished classes for the day.

"So, did Blaine get your poem?" Rachel asked nonchalantly. Kurt wasn't fooled by her calm front; Rachel lived for romantic shit like that. He knew she was dying to know.

"No idea. He never replied. He also never promised the arrival of my nonfat mocha. I wonder if it even sent."

"I'm sure it did, hon," Rachel reassured him. "Oh, look! There they are now."

The two of them ogled their men as they climbed the stairs.

"We really did get the good ones," Rachel remarked.

Kurt smiled. "I know."

Even from far away, Kurt could tell that Finn was holding a cup of something, presumably soy chai, for Rachel. Proving once again that the boyfriend awards all belonged to him, Blaine carried what was, in all likelihood, a humongo nonfat mocha.

It seemed like ages until the boys reached them. Blaine sat on Kurt's other side, and Finn on Rachel's.

"Your humongo nonfat mocha, my dear." Blaine presented him with a coffee-spattered to-go cup. "It spilled a little on the way over here."

"My hero," Kurt murmured. "Rachel and I got our asses thoroughly kicked in there." He pointed backward with his thumb to the Dance building. "I needed this. Thank you, darling."

"Anytime, darling," Blaine replied, kissing him on the forehead. "After all, you were responsible for my happy tears today."

Kurt smiled from ear to ear. "You mean the--"

"It was absolutely beautiful," Blaine breathed, hugging Kurt in earnest. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Kurt responded into Blaine's shoulder.

"So, he got it?" Rachel asked, positively bouncing with excitement. Blaine and Finn shared a knowing glance from opposite sides of their significant others.

"I was right," Finn said. "She was right next to him."

The two of them shared a chuckle at Kurt and Rachel's expense, gathered up their things, and the four of them left to get some food.

They ended up back at Bean Cuisine, because none of them had sufficient funds to go to an actual, honest-to-God restaurant. Blaine and Finn got coffee of their own while Rachel and Kurt munched on their snacks of choice: a vegan cookie and a cinnamon roll. Kurt didn't eat pastries often, worried about the effect of all that sugar on his complexion, but that day seemed different somehow. Even the clouds seemed sunny. The world was Technicolor. He was full to bursting with love for the shiny-haired, pocket-sized man sitting next to him, and he knew that feeling would never go away.

- - -

Kurt and Blaine arrived home about two hours later; the sheer amount of inane things that they, Finn, and Rachel could find to talk about was truly amazing. Blaine went up to their bedroom to check his email--although nothing could top Kurt's poem, as far as Blaine's happiness factor--and Kurt stayed in the tiny excuse for a foyer, tidying up his and Blaine's shoes and coats and bags. Kurt liked to keep things neat, but he wasn't anal about it.

"OH. MY. GOD," came Blaine's booming voice from the bedroom. Sure enough, he was in front of Kurt no more than five seconds later, waving his open laptop around.

"Blaine. Blaine. Hold still. What is it?" Kurt steered his overexcited boyfriend to their worn-out loveseat, plopping down on it and wrapping an arm around Blaine's shoulders. He looked over Blaine's shoulder, but he quickly closed the laptop screen and placed both hands on Kurt's shoulders with a vise-like grip.

"Remember a few months ago, when I auditioned for Mark in that one production of RENT in that great little theatre on the Lower East Side, and then I got a callback, but I thought I blew it?"

"And you were moping for weeks, despite all the delicious baked goods I made you?" Kurt nodded, the barest hint of a smile adorning his face.

"Yeah!" Blaine started bouncing up and down, still gripping Kurt's shoulders hard enough to bruise.

"What about it?"

"Kurt, I got it!" Blaine was smiling like a crazy person as his bounces brought his entire body up off the couch. He stopped bouncing and kissed Kurt hard, slipping his tongue in Kurt's mouth before the proper congratulations could be given. Blaine rolled on top of his boyfriend, managing never to break the kiss. Eventually, however, they decided that suffocation wasn’t their ideal cause of death, and Kurt pulled away for a breather. Maybe kissing him dizzy is the proper congratulations, Kurt thought.

"I'm so proud of you, Blaine," he breathes. "You're going to be so great, and I'm going to be there every night, and--mmm--you're so beautiful, so talented, I just can't even comprehend it. You deserve this more than anyone else I can think of, you superstar, you."

Blaine smiled lovingly down at Kurt before collapsing onto his chest. “You’re amazing. I’m so lucky I have you. I’m so happy we didn’t break up after your senior year. We stuck it out, because we're in love, and now, look at us. We’re in the city of our dreams, we’re not broke, we’re happy together, we keep each other satisfied with lots of very enjoyable sex, you’re about to graduate from the top musical theatre school in the country, and I’m going to be making my small-theatre debut in a show that was already on Broadway.” He giggled. “This is the good life.”

“It is. I must say, I thoroughly enjoy the part about us not being broke...and the sex,” Kurt chuckled. “I love my Off-Off-Broadway star.”

“Yeah, well. I felt the sex thing needed to be added, simply because of the fact that I’m on top of you,” Blaine admitted, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I love you, too...baby.” He purred the last word into Kurt’s neck before giving him a brand-spanking-new hickey.

Oh, Blaine, Kurt thought. You certainly know how to get what you want. Kurt called Blaine “baby” all the time, but he had a serious thing for Blaine calling him that. Blaine knew it, too. It was like his get-into-bed-free card. It always worked. “Baby,” when used in the right setting, was pretty much equivalent to “let me love you down.”

And, sure enough, Blaine had Kurt in that bed in under a minute. Boy was talented.

After Kurt properly congratulated Blaine--as it turned out, sex was the answer--and Blaine returned the favor, they opted for naked movie time in bed together. The filmed Broadway version of RENT played on the TV ("research" for Blaine's new role as Mark) as Kurt rubbed Blaine's shoulders and back, letting him slide down so that his head was propped up on Kurt's chest. Blaine's fuzzy head tickled Kurt's neck, making him giggle. He was grateful that his boyfriend didn't keep his hair shellacked all the time anymore. He kept it natural on days when they barely left home, covering it up in a beanie in the event that they did. It was so soft. It felt like bunnies. It made Kurt want to sleep on Blaine's head.

It made Kurt want to sleep, and so he did.

- - -

When Kurt awoke the next morning, he was completely disoriented--first of all, it was five-thirty in the morning, and second of all, he was in the exact middle of the bed, as opposed to his preferred right side. He made a little noise of confusion, waking an adorably sleepy Blaine up. Oh, wow, I'm an asshole, thought Kurt. His boy needed as much sleep as he could get.

"You okay, babe?" asked the curly-mopped angel in bed beside him, eyes fluttering half-open.

"Yeah, I'm--I'm fine, honey, go back to sleep," Kurt rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry." Jesus, what time did I go to sleep?

"Don't be. You fell asleep at about 7:30," Blaine supplied, obviously outing himself as a mind-reader.

"It's all your hair's fault," Kurt giggled. "It feels like a bunny. A curly bunny."

Blaine chuckled, scooting over to rub his hair on Kurt's cheek. "Bunny says go back to sleep," he singsonged in a breathy, high-pitched cartoon voice. "Bunny says Blaine's going to make the coffee and breakfast and everything before he goes to work, and Kurt should just sleep until he wants to get up, because it is Saturday!" Blaine tilted his head up to reveal his adorable smile. "Yaaay, Saturday!"

"You're silly when you're tired," Kurt remarked blearily, fluffing Blaine's bunny hair with his hand and smiling like a goofball. "You're also the best. Let's both go back to sleep. I promise you I'll be out like a light when you get up, so don't worry about waking me."

Blaine kept on smiling, like it was a reflex: look at Kurt, smile. "Okay. I love you."

"Love you, too...bunny." Kurt smirked at Blaine, who kissed it away before leaning on his chest to fall back asleep.

When he awoke, it was 10:25, and Blaine had already left for work. He didn’t work the same hours on weekends; instead of 8 to 4:30, he worked 9 to 2. Kurt was just as grateful for that as Blaine was; between music and work and hair products, his boyfriend sometimes felt like he was stretched just a little bit too thin, and it showed. He was on a shorter fuse, other people--even Kurt, and especially Rachel--annoyed him much more easily, and he tended to stay up into the wee hours of the night, which wreaked absolute havoc on his skin. The relaxed weekend schedule ensured that he was still making money, but also staying sane, calm and happy. All Kurt wanted in life was to see Blaine happy.

As he rolled out of bed, he heard a crunching sound that came from inside the covers. It sounded a whole lot like paper, and sure enough, after a bit of rummaging, he unearthed a folded piece of notebook paper from underneath his pillow. He unfolded it to find half the page covered in Blaine’s thin script:

Support is a complicated thing

So many meanings

So many interpretations

(Scaffolding supports a fledgling house,

and beams hold up bridges)

But the best meaning

The best interpretation

is you, my beautiful man

It's uncomplicated, your support, and it's there every time without fail
You support me: all of me

(All of me thanks you,

and all of me loves you with all that I have

and all I’ll ever be)

Kurt caught himself sighing like a damn teenage girl. Oh, he loved that boy. Did he ever love that boy. 

He knew what the theme of today’s Rachel Berry tizzy would be.