They didn't talk about it.

Blaine didn't mention it as he slowly woke to a devilish smile and soft fingertips tracing his tattoo. They didn't talk about it and everything continued on as normal, as if it had never happened, as if Blaine didn't know Kurt was leaving and possibly never coming back. They made breakfast together, showered, got dressed and kissed goodbye as Blaine left for his shift at the bookshop. It wasn't their routine per say but it was more domestic than was comfortable, especially with the knowledge that it would all shatter in such a short space of time.

He knew that it would've been better, to put an end to whatever it was they were immediately, better but not any easier than just waiting for the blade to drop. He was adamant though that he wouldn't be angry or sad until he was gone, until the happiest few months of his life had passed like leaves drifting in an autumn breeze.

He should've known that Kurt would notice that something was wrong. Kurt, as inconveniently perceptive as ever, stopped by the bookstore just after Blaine's lunch break. He swept into the shop, bell jingling merrily to announce his arrival, startling Blaine where he was doodling quietly at the front desk. "Hi there!" Kurt called cheerily "I wonder if you can help me, I'm looking for a handsome young man about yay high with gorgeous curly hair and a fantastic ass?" Blaine couldn't help but grin, rushing around the desk and planting a quick kiss on Kurt's pouting lips. "Why I think we found what you were looking for sir." He said eyes shining as he felt Kurt's arms wrap around his waist. "Thank God! I've been looking for you forever!"

"Blainey! Blainey!" A raspy voice called "Who's that young man I see you canoodling with there?" An old woman of around eighty shuffled into the room, bright purple feather shawl swinging as she approached. "Well?" She said putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder "Introduce us darling I didn't raise you to forget your manners." He didn't have the heart to point out that she didn't in fact raise him at all because in some ways he wished that she had. The old woman had quickly become his closest confidante after his first week in New York. Blaine, the definition of starving artist, had stumbled upon her bookshop enquiring about work and she hired him almost immediately, offering to pay him more than the job was worth. He was grateful, but she insisted that he give her nothing but to live happy and free.

"Of course" he replied with a smile "Margret Atkinson meet Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel, Margret Atkinson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am." Kurt smiled shaking her hand and looking nervous as Margret's shrewd green eyes stared him down. "Mister Kurt Hummel, I'm familiar with your work though I hope you don't think your success will earn you any special treatment around here." She smiled sweetly, her kindly face slightly unsettling as she gripped his hand tight. Blaine let out a strange strangled choking sound, face flushed red and a hand covering half his face. "Maggie..." he whined but she ignored him. "Now you treat him right you hear me?" She said softly.

"We're not-" Blaine panicked.

"I don't care what you think you two are Blaine I know love when I see it." Her voice was sharp and it sent Blaine reeling. No, no, no he didn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. He turned on his heel and walked back to the shelves, forcing himself not to let another tear fall.

"Do you hear me?" Maggie repeated her eyes soft and sad. "He's a wonderful, charming old soul. He knows more than he will tell you, feels more than he will show you unless you prove to him that he is more to you, that he's special and dear to you. If you don't, then shame on you Mister Hummel, for breaking a beautiful boy's heart."

~*~

Kurt and Maggie sat for a while, drinking tea and talking. She told him about her husband James, who had passed away a few springs previously, and how Blaine had arrived a few months after, bringing light and laughter to their little shop again. She told tales of how diligent Blaine always was, in his work, in his studies. Rushing in just on time, juggling sketchbooks and notebooks with flushed cheeks and hair askew. She recalled one day in June, the store had been quite and Blaine and Maggie had spent the day rummaging through old records, both crooning along to whatever was playing. She often said that he was born for a different time, that there were few ‘old birds like her' who knew how to appreciate him, mind and soul.

She was fond of him as if he were the son she never had. She'd often watch him, when she had little else to do, too old to hop up and join him as he danced between the bookshelves. She watched as he sketched and sang as he worked. She watched him grow in the short time she had known him, mature and bloom. She watched as he fought for everything he had, she was there on his bad days, sending him home with a bag of camomile tea and a warm smile calling "Danny Kaye will be here same as always, Sinatra's in the box too". His face would light up a little, his sweet face just a little less troubled. He'd return the next day, not fine but better, and he always got there eventually anyway.

Kurt listened raptly as she regaled him with stories. He bristled when he heard about how things had changed once Jonah had sauntered into Blaine's life. He listened as Maggie described how happy Blaine was, at least for a little while, a few months later he more often than not started to turn up for work eyes red and puffy, his skin sallow and pale. Until the day he met Kurt. She told of a light in his eyes she hadn't seen before, the bounce in his step as he took Maggie's hand and bopped with her to the sounds streaming from the old record player. She knew it long before Kurt or even Blaine did. She also knew just from the way Kurt laughed and smiled about her boy, that he felt just the same. She would never tell them though; they'd figure it out soon enough.

~*~

Blaine returned after his shift and smiled brightly at Kurt as his eyes fell on him at his desk, furiously typing away with his glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. "Hey how was your day?" Kurt said with a soft smile after pulling off his glasses and kissing him sweet and slow. "It was eventful." Blaine replied, swaying on the spot from the strange mixture of affection and nervousness coursing through his veins. "It was nice of you to drop by this afternoon; Maggie just won't stop talking about you."

"She's a wonderful lady Maggie," Kurt commented, helping Blaine out of his coat before sitting back down and taking Blaine with him "she's very wise, and she adores you, but really who doesn't?" Blaine's answering blush bloomed high on the apples of his cheeks and Kurt all but had to grab his hands to stop them from coming up to hide his face.

"Ah ah ah none of that mister I wanna see your handsome face when I make you blush." He teased using a hand on Blaine's chin to make him look at him. "You're cruel." I love you.

"No I'm not."  I am I'm sorry.

Blaine lowered his eyes, long dark lashes brushing at his still flushed cheeks in a way that made Kurt breathless. "You're an enigma Blaine Anderson." He whispered "So smart and sexy. Sometimes you're shy and bashful and others you're unashamed, raw, and carnal. You're contented melancholy and everything in between." Blaine bit back a whimper as Kurt began to place hot kisses trailing like ivy up his throat "You're stunning..." Kurt breathed against his neck sucking a bruise into the tender skin just bellow his jaw "and you take my breath away."

"Ku-urt" Blaine stuttered, his head tipping back and his hands gripping tight to Kurt's shoulders, fingers digging into the flexing, broad muscle "God now I know why you became a writer."

"Oh" Kurt gasped, tilting his head up to look at Blaine, pupils blown and chest heaving as he panted. "How many other boys have you lured into bed with you with your sultry words and whispered sweet nothings Mister Hummel?" Just like that they were playing that game again. Blaine smiled coyly, biting his lip to keep from smirking as Kurt all but growled. Kurt's cock twitched painfully in his pants as Blaine continued to smile at him his rough hands stroking tentatively down his chest.

He looked so beautiful; straddling him on the rickety wooden chair, his hips rocking slowly into Kurt's as if he couldn't help himself. "Bed, now." He grunted trying to urge Blaine up but he refused to budge. Blaine thrust harder against him letting out a quite moan. "No." He licked his lips.

"Fuck" Kurt hissed, stripping the buttons of Blaine's shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. He started on Blaine's pants but he slapped his hands away, slipping from his grasp and standing up to tug his belt from the belt loops. "Go," he whispered, never breaking eye contact "I'll be waiting for you."

Kurt jogged from the room, throwing off his jumper as he reached his bedroom. He almost ripped the draw out of his bedside table trying to get to the lube and condoms he kept there. Usually graceful and composed Kurt stumbled as he dashed back to the lounge, popping the button on his jeans and trying to jump out of them while moving. He crashed into the doorframe, pants caught around his knees. He froze in the doorway, his jeans dropping to the ground as he stared over at his desk.

There was Blaine, sitting on top of Kurt's desk clad in only a pair of tight, black boxer briefs and staring expectantly over at him. His legs were spread, palms pressing into the wood between them as he looked up coyly from beneath his lashes. Time seemed to slow, the want between them seeming to settle into a steady thrum instead of sparking unexpectedly. Kurt walked to towards him slowly, stepping out of his jeans and not realising he was trembling with it until he realised Blaine was too. Blaine looked up at him as Kurt's hands pressed into the wood by his hips, eyes wide and lips begging to be kissed. He inhaled sharply as Kurt's lips grazed his, heart stuttering in his chest.

Kurt kissed him slow, sweeter and more careful than he ever had before. Absent was their usual bruising ferocity, everything seemed more somehow, like they were taking the time to remember every jerk and moan and whisper. Kurt urged Blaine to lie back, to spread out across the paper strewn wood of the desk. Pages upon pages fluttered to the floor whilst others lay crushed and crumpled underneath Blaine's body. Kurt slid to his knees, watching as Blaine tipped his head back as he sucked a bruise into the tender skin of his inner thigh. The evening sun made Blaine's olive skin shine golden, long shadows cast along beautiful lean muscle and a sinfully trim waist. Kurt knelt up to trace his hip bones with his tongue moaning low in his throat as Blaine's lips parted on a gasp, broad hands flying to tangle in his hair.

Kurt loved Blaine like that, cock hard against his abdomen and body stretched taut in pleasure and anticipation. Sucking another mark into his pelvis he marvelled at him, head thrown back, eyes tight shut and lips constantly parted, unable to control the sounds tumbling past them. His legs fell open further as Kurt's lubed finger circled him, teasing with the tip before pushing in. A beat and Blaine was writhing above him, trying to thrust down on the single digit as Kurt paused to catch his breath, squeezing at the base of his cock. "Fuck baby, so tight."

"Fuck Kurt just-" Blaine gritted out "more." Kurt added a second then a third, thrusting and twisting and curling his fingers upward until Blaine's back arched, bowing off the desk. A stuttering moan was ripped from his throat as a cascade of papers fluttered to the ground. Kurt didn't take his time like he'd wanted to, the salacious roll of Blaine's body proving too much and too tempting, even if he were a saint he couldn't have resisted. His chest was heaving as he draped himself over him, sliding in until his hips were flush with Blaine's ass. He wrapped himself around him, hands roving over his waist as he fucked into him.

Blaine's sweat slick skin made the ink soaked paper cling to him, Kurt's words imprinted on his skin as he thrust hard and fast. Blaine pulled his hair, pulled him closer and crushed him to him, clumsy mouths kissing, hot and wet and filthy. He could do nothing but writhe and thrust back against him, trapped deliciously between Kurt's body and the unforgiving wood. Nails raked down Kurt's back and he hissed as bright spots of pleasure flooded him, the pain sparking quick and sharp. He nipped at Blaine's lips in retaliation, pulling on his bottom lip and pulling a whine from beneath his muffled groans.

Kurt sucked bruises down his neck, dark marks that left Blaine aching in his mouth's wake. "God you love this so much don't you sweetheart?" Kurt panted, burying himself deep and grinding his hips. "You just moan and whimper and beg so prettily don't you?" Kurt looked up, staring mouth agape at Blaine's face. He was wrecked, wild curls sweat drenched and tumbling into eyes rich and deep like whiskey and syrup. His lips were bruised, puffy, red and slick with how much they'd been sucked, bitten and kissed "don't you?" Kurt asked again, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, hand gripping at Blaine's ass. Blaine nodded, eyes fluttering shut again as Kurt began to thrust in earnest, chasing the heat coiling low and blazing in the base of his spine. "So gorgeous," he groaned "so good and so perfect," his lips hovered just over Blaine's as he growled "so fucking beautiful, love you like this Blaine, love you desperate and taking it fuck."

Blaine arched up into him, gripping his shoulders tight as the desk was jolted against the wall. Kurt snaked a hand between them, long, strong fingers curling around Blaine's aching cock and stroking. He was slick and flush and aching for release before a twist of Kurt's wrist and his erratic thrusts sent him falling over the edge. His body undulated, his head thrown back and mouth open in a scream as come covered Kurt's hand and both their stomachs. He clenched around Kurt and he came with a cry, teeth digging into Blaine's collar bone, making him limp and pliant beneath him as Kurt came inside him.

Kurt collapsed on his chest, chest heaving and vision blurry. He held tight to Blaine's trembling body as they attempted to come down. His hands stroked over the tattoo on Blaine's side in the way that always seemed to calm him, unable to really feel the burning slick, skin beneath his palms and fingertips. His legs and arms felt numb and if it wasn't for the desk and Blaine's body wrapped around his he would've probably sank to the floor. He shifted ever so slightly to look up, feeling his head move as Blaine's chest still expanded sharply with every inhalation. Blaine's eyes were shut, long, dark eyelashes fluttering against his red cheeks. Kurt could clearly see the marks decorating the side of his neck, bruises red and vibrant against otherwise flawless skin that shone gold in the fading sunlight. He felt a sharp pang resonate through his chest, like the beginnings of a wound and another promise left unspoken.

There was a deep contented sigh and Blaine's head turned his eyes fluttering open. He looked down and raised his hand sluggishly doing little more than fiddling with the strands of Kurt's hair that had fallen across his forehead. Kurt smiled tentatively and Blaine's lips quirked at the corners tired but sated and unwilling to attempt much else. Kurt pulled out slowly and carefully, holding on to the condom and throwing it in the trash before flopping back onto the desk. Blaine hissed at the sudden emptiness, his ass already beginning to twinge in a small of imitation of how it would ache the next day if not a few hours later. "Did I break you?" Kurt said sheepishly as Blaine blearily blinked up at him "Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Is it-"

"Kurt I'm fine but I just got thoroughly fucked on a hardwood desk before coming so hard I still can't see straight so forgive me if I'm a little dazed." Blaine drawled his words slurring together as Kurt carefully pulled them into an upright position. "Annnd he's back" Kurt laughed, running his fingers through Blaine's hair, blue eyes roving over every inch of his bare skin.

"What do you say to taking a bath, grabbing something to eat and then lounging on the sofa for the rest of the evening?" He suggested, pecking Blaine on the lips before helping him to his feet with an arm around his waist. "I say," Blaine grinned "why Mister Hummel you must've read my mind."

~*~

They ended up drinking cheap wine in the bath and ordering Chinese food for dinner. The empty cartoons lay scattered across their ramshackle coffee table as they curled up on the couch. Kurt had his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and was reading in the light from the lounge's only and unfortunately rather dim lamp. Blaine spent the majority of the evening folded up into Kurt's side; his knees were drawn up so he could balance one of sketchbooks on them. Kurt had an arm slung around his shoulder, a hand that would rub his shoulder affectionately now and again to remind him to push his glasses back up his nose in a way that made him blush pleasantly.

As the night wore on Blaine's pencil began to slip from his grasp, his glasses hanging precariously on the tip of his nose as his eyes started to slide shut. He burrowed into Kurt's warmth not even noticing when his head slid into his lap, cheek pillowed against his pyjama clad thighs as the rest of his body curled up between him and the armrest. He vaguely felt, his glasses being taken off and his sketchbook being wrenched out of his hands before he could feel soft familiar fingers carding through his curls. He smiled allowing himself to relax, blissfully heartache free at least for a little while.

"Sweet dreams, Blaine." Kurt whispered a fond smile threatening to tug at his lips.

‘"You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."'