Mornings quickly became their favourite time. The quiet and peacefulness it afforded was bliss for both Kurt and Blaine. Morning was before the sickness settled and Blaine felt light and almost free. Morning was lazy and slow and just for them. Kurt adored mornings with Blaine. He was the most himself at daybreak, sweet and just a little bit bashful, with bed tousled curls, bleary eyes and flushed, sleep warm cheeks. Blaine was always the one to wake first seeing as he would only sleep in shifts, falling in and out of sleep, but with Kurt actually sleeping and not fitfully dozing. It could be called creepy, but Blaine liked to watch Kurt sleep in the early morning, just for a little while. He liked seeing him so peaceful and calm, not having to see the constant worry in his eyes or the tension held in his body.

But by far their favourite thing was waking up. Slipping into a new day and realising that they had each other to spend it with; waking up to a sweet peppering of kisses, butterfly, Eskimo or the real deal, or waking to slow building heat, hot mouths, wet warmth and wandering hands. Sensual, slow and sleepy morning sex was (much to Blaine's delight) Kurt's speciality. It would leave them glowing whether they stopped or not. In fact on more than one occasion Cooper Anderson had copped an eyeful. It seems walking in on your baby brother going down on his boyfriend over an ebony grand piano and not even thinking to stop when said boyfriend points out they've been so very rudely interrupted, is a natural occurrence when your younger sibling is Blaine Anderson.

Sometimes, however, their mornings weren't always so great. The middle of Blaine's second week in the programme, just a few days after Kurt and Blaine's reconciliation and Blaine had another set back. It started with a nightmare, Blaine's whimpers and shouts had woken Kurt instantly but, having learnt from experience, he couldn't wake him. He had to watch as Blaine thrashed and convulsed beside him on the bed. He had to listen to Blaine's pained whines. Watch him cry and sob without being able to wipe the tears away. But worst of all was the talking, fragments of the dream made real in the sound of Blaine's broken pleading voice.

It was torture and Kurt fell deeper and deeper into despair with every moment that past but he couldn't leave him alone, not whilst knowing exactly what was going on behind the bedroom door. So Kurt cried and shook as the nightmare played out. An endless stream of "NO please don't" and "Stop it please", "please just stop, please please". All Kurt could do was grip Blaine's hand, willing his presence and reality to permeate and push away the dreams, it was an impossible notion, but he couldn't help but hope.

There was a lull in Blaine's pleading and Kurt held his breath hoping it would be over soon. But Blaine startled him with a piercing scream, the thrashing and pleading started a new but this time he wasn't begging for his own saviour, he was begging for Kurt's.

"Please no let him go!"

"Blaine honey please wake up for me?"

"NO PLEASE NO STOP IT"

"B-Blaine"

"Please! You're hurting him!"

"Please Blaine. Please please please"

"Take me instead"

"I love you, so much"

"I'll do anything you want!"

Blaine's imploring voice whispering his last plea sent Kurt over the edge, unable to hold back all the fear and misery any longer. He let it roll over him, terrifyingly forgetting to keep quiet and choking out rasping, violent sobs. Despite the horror and disgust building in his chest and rising to his flashing throat it made him fall even more in love with Blaine, if that was even possible. Protective and sacrificing even in the face of his worst nightmares.

Blaine snapped his eyes open at the sound of Kurt's choked cries, but this time he was actually there, not drifting trapped in some warped horror story version of reality. He lay still, panting, tears still clumping his eyelashes but he was awake. Casting his eyes around the darkened room he saw Kurt, curled in on himself, knees to his chest and sobbing.

In a matter of seconds Blaine had Kurt gathered in his arms, pressed close and tangled sweaty and tear stained in the sheets. A constant mantra of he's safe, he's safe, he's safe played over and over in his head as Kurt clutched at him. He rocked them back and forth, back and forth, cooing and stroking slightly trembling hands through his hair, holding on to him protectively. Eventually Kurt quietened and snuffled into Blaine's shirt before leaning up for a kiss. They kept it chaste, innocent sweet, Blaine was still scared still nervous still thinking that at any moment that looming figure would appear once again and snatch Kurt from him.

The silence stretched on only broken by Kurt's slowing breaths and Blaine's whispered words of comfort. God Blaine needed Kurt, but he was angry and frustrated and so completely distraught that with every set back and every block he wasn't getting any better and Kurt was suffering for it. Kurt‘s lips against his neck bought him back from bitterness and he glanced down to see Kurt mouth a small ‘thank you' before he drifted to sleep, wrapped securely in Blaine's arms.

.oO0Oo.

By the time Kurt woke up again Blaine had checked on him around twenty times, smoked six cigarettes, drunk three cups of coffee and thrown up twice. He was staring down at a blank piece of paper, trying to draw like he used to when things felt out of balance but he just couldn't put pencil to paper. He was itching all over, his eyes burning from the lack of a restful night's sleep. Blaine heard the soft padding of foot steps and was drawn back by the sight of Kurt, bleary eyed and looking radiant and innocent all at once.

Kurt's smile was blinding, almost shy and seeing Blaine's demeanour, he approached with caution, wrapped up in what he'd dubbed the comfort sweater which was Kurt's favourite and also happened to belong to Blaine. It was the very same, big, thick emerald green sweater that Blaine had swaddled himself in feeling scared and vulnerable with his realised feelings for Kurt the morning after The Mist. Kurt fell in love with it, how it looked on Blaine, making him look so sweet and innocent and okay when the collar slipped to expose his bare collar bone and shoulders it was a lot sexy. How it felt against his skin, soft wool and so incredibly warm. How, no matter how many times he'd worn it, it still smelt like Blaine, sandalwood, cinnamon, coffee and cigarettes. It was all these things that made him feel close to Blaine especially when he was right there with him but still seemed so far away.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulder, prying the pencil from his trembling hands. He sighed, slumping back into Kurt's embrace and tried to quell his shaking. Every minute his symptoms felt like they were escalating, spiralling out of his control and he was terrified.

"Can we talk about it?" Kurt asked, kissing his temple. Blaine didn't want to talk, he knew Kurt wanted to know everything, the nightmare and why there's a litter of ash on the balcony and why he had heard him running to the bathroom. There was so much, too much to explain and it just finally hammered home the fact that he was not coping, not really dealing with any of it. Blaine envied those who got into rehab, maybe if he was far away and isolated from everything else and not so afraid of hurting Cooper or Kurt again he could do it. Feel again and smile and not be so dependant on this thing (this drug Blaine because that's what it is, you were, you are addicted to heroin) that destroyed almost everything Jake and Evan had left of him.

"Yeah baby, we can."