Blaine used to hate Mondays. He used to hate having to get up early after the weekend and go to class for most of the day. But lately, Blaine loved Mondays. Mondays the store was open again. On Monday morning Blaine woke up to an empty bed, still warm on the left hand side from where Kurt had left it. He walked to The Fix, picked up some coffee and delivered it to the old bookstore across the street. The bookstore he just so happened to own with his boyfriend, novelist Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.

He loved Mondays and every other day of the week because he got to spend it in his favourite place in the world, with the man he loved. Kurt worked in the shop, writing as customers browsed or when business was slow. Blaine, after greeting Kurt with a kiss and a wink set off upstairs, to the office come studio that they had converted the upper floor into once they'd acquired the funds to renovate. They'd removed the heavy drapes from the windows to let the natural light in and part of Blaine's studio overlooked the store below. It was heaven for the both of them.

Heaven is not all angels and songbirds. They fought about the electricity bill and about the boy in the beanie and pea coat at the station when they were on their way back from an exhibit. They fought about how Kurt was at Thomas' until gone three in the morning and had sent Blaine not even a text. They fought about Blaine's job at Lucille's and how he may have liked the attention the stage afforded too much. They fought, and they cried and screamed their way into a new relationship. One where their differences were known and accepted, one where insecurities were voiced and feelings expressed. It shouldn't have been that difficult, they were both artists after all. They were each other's, completely, and that was their promise.

Blaine loved watching the hustle and bustle of the shop below from his balcony. He loved watching Kurt as he squinted at the screen in front of him, typing frantically or simply staring blankly, worrying at his lip. There were times, like when Maggie was around, that Kurt simply decided he'd had enough for the day. It was terrible for business of course, as James used to remind Maggie every time she locked the doors and flipped the sign before closing but it was always worth it.

Blaine would hear the bell above the door chime and the blind being rolled down and he'd wait patiently, ears straining for the sound of Kurt's feet against the metal spiral staircase. He always stood in the doorway for a while, watching as Blaine worked diligently on whatever piece he had been working on for the last few days, bathed in what remained of the natural light filtering through the windows. Sometimes Blaine got tired of trying to pretend he wasn't there and sometimes he didn't notice anything at all.

If Blaine didn't turn around within a couple of minutes Kurt knew not to disturb him. When Blaine got lost in his art there was no way of finding him again until he was satisfied. Not everything he did Blaine liked, and when he despised something he himself had made he always needed reminding that there was a reason he was an artist, to create and make mistakes so that new masterpieces could be discovered.

On one particular Monday Blaine turned to Kurt with a frown. "Why did you leave so early this morning?" He said and Kurt smiled devilishly, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. "I have something to show you." Was all he said in reply and Blaine's eyes widened.

"If it's what I think it is I think I already saw plenty of it last night." Blaine added cheekily but he gasped as Kurt turned his back to him.

On his right shoulder blade was a tattoo, fresh, still shiny and raw looking but it was beautiful. It was an exact replica of the design Blaine had included in the sketchbook he had given to Kurt when he was leaving for Chicago. It was the image of an old brass compass, with arrows for pointers and a back plate like the night sky, complete with second star to the right. Around it, in letters written in what resembled fairy dust were the words, ‘For to have faith, is to have wings.'

"It's my design," Blaine choked, his eyes welling with tears "you got it you finally got it like you said you would."

"Of course." Kurt said soothingly, moving forward and wrapping his arms around Blaine's middle. "It's the perfect reminder that this," he squeezed Blaine's waist gently, "is forever."

"Ahh yes," Blaine replied smiling, "and forever is a very long time Peter, didn't you know?"

‘"Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories."'