What Kurt imagined the night of Blaine’s first pledge—what he imagined spending his days with Blaine as a lover—was now happening, and Kurt had never felt such happiness. The next five days passed in similar manners—he woke each morning very early but well-rested, and breakfasted with the servants, sharing gossip and speculating on the future of the castle. Then he returned to his rooms to work a little bit on sewing Blaine’s garment, or he’d practice his lute. He’d started writing for Blaine—little poems and sweet songs, mostly, but he’d begun to work on a longer story, writing down passages that came to him as the day went on. And as the morning wore on toward afternoon, he’d start getting summoned across the castle.

The first time it happened, Brittany showed up in his rooms and informed him that the Prince wanted to ask Kurt to dress up a tree. Kurt had wandered into Blaine’s rooms in a great deal of confusion.

“What’s this about a tree?” Kurt asked, unable to stop the grin that grew on his face when Blaine grabbed both his hands and kissed them.

“I’m sorry?” Blaine mumbled, continuing to lavish affection on Kurt’s hands.

“Brittany told me you wanted me to dress up a tree.”

Blaine looked up at him with a disbelieving look on his face. “A tree?”

“Yes.”

All of a sudden Blaine laughed, dropping his forehead to Kurt’s hands.

“What?”

“I told her—” Blaine began, pausing to chuckle. “Sorry. I told her I wanted to confer with you on my garment.”

Kurt stared for a minute before shaking his head and huffing. “I don’t understand her.”

“Brittany has been here since childhood,” Blaine said. “Her mother was once the head housekeep. And I believe the position continues back in the family. And while I don’t think she’ll ever hold that position herself, she was always very kind to me as children and has been a loyal and hardworking servant. She is a little…odd. But she is a good woman.”

Kurt smiled. “I believe you. But…she and Santana—“

“I don’t even pretend to know how it happened,” Blaine replied. “But she makes Santana happy, and when Santana is happy it is a great improvement on the rest of the time.”

Kurt laughed.

“So what did you need to know about the garment?”

One of Blaine’s eyebrows rose skeptically.

“Kurt?”

“What?”

Blaine stepped in and wrapped his arms lightly around Kurt’s waist.

“I did not call you here to talk about clothes.”

Kurt gasped unsteadily as Blaine tugged him in, tightening his hold and pressing their bodies flush together. Kurt found he couldn’t move his eyes from Blaine’s lips.

“Then what did you call me here for, my lord?” Kurt teased.

“You know,” Blaine said, giving it right back, “I can’t seem to remember.”

“Well, my lord, let me see if I can jog your memory.”

Kurt leaned in and brushed their lips together very lightly, intent on teasing Blaine further, but Blaine was having none of it. Kurt found himself kissing Blaine heatedly, both of Blaine’s hands cupping his face. They lost themselves in each other then, kissing delightedly for several minutes.

“I cannot seem to keep my hands off of you,” Blaine whispered as Kurt kissed his jaw, sucking on the stubbled skin and teasing it with his tongue. “I feel that this may become a problem.”

“I can see no problem, my lord,” Kurt said, slipping his tongue back into Blaine’s mouth, eliciting a moan from the Prince.

Soon they were clinging to each other, their bodies rocking slowly, bringing them closer and closer to what seemed an inevitable conclusion—and Kurt was grateful because the bed was right there—

Knock. Knock.

They sprung apart instantly, frantically smoothing down clothing and hair. The door opened just as Kurt realized that his breeches were entirely failing to hide the hardness that had resulted from his activities with Blaine. He quickly adjusted himself, stepping to conceal himself behind a chair. But judging by Santana’s narrowed eyes and widened smirk, she had seen.

Godsdamnit.

“Sorry to break things up, boys,” she said, “but I need a word with our Prince. Privately.”

She was staring at Kurt—or, rather, where his crotch would be if he moved out from behind the chair. Kurt blushed furiously.

“Certainly, Santana,” Blaine said. “Kurt, we’ll conclude our business this evening. Santana, if you would.”

He swept his hand toward the door invitingly, and Santana scowled. Blaine had just saved Kurt from further embarrassment, and Kurt made sure to make it up to him thoroughly later that evening.

So it went for Kurt’s mornings for the first couple of days, though he and Blaine were careful not to do anything too risky during the day, when it was increasingly likely that they were interrupted by Santana, who, while she had promised Blaine that she would neither inquire further nor spread word of what she had seen, continued to try to catch them doing something and had ceased knocking, which had almost caused injury when, on the fourth day, she barged in while Kurt was drawing Blaine’s stitches. He had just barely stopped himself from jumping while cutting the second stitch, though Blaine hadn’t been able to help himself and had tugged the stitch painfully when he startled.

The rest of the servants were acting strangely, as well, though certainly in a different manner. Puck and Sam, whom he knew had been working on the music room, were no longer seen anywhere near that part of the castle—they had, in fact, taken to disappearing often to Beiste’s practice grounds near the northeast wall of the castle grounds, spending most of their days there and the rest of their time laughing and horsing around in their quarters. All work had stopped on the fields, as well, at least as far as Wes and David were concerned. Kurt had gone to find them one afternoon, determined to learn some more details of Blaine’s childhood for a ballad he was composing, but he had only seen strange men tilling the fields. Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany were almost always scurrying away, too busy to speak to him when he went to interrogate them.

Kurt got the sense that things were being hidden from him, but he couldn’t figure out why. Whenever he tried to wander into certain parts of the castle—the lower Western wing, for example, or the court apartments on the upper Eastern wing—Santana would appear seemingly out of nowhere and order him to go do something inane—he’d often been told to assist Emma by carrying heavy sacks of ingredients from the storerooms in the basement to the kitchen or to go feed the beasts out back. Blaine, as well, often found him and asked him to tend the roses, or go cut a few for his use. On the fifth afternoon he’d even been sent to fetch Mike, who he was told was arriving back at the castle after being away for some business, but he waited by the gate for almost three hours with no sign of him returning.

He’d stormed back to the castle after he’d gotten sick of waiting and immediately burst into Blaine’s rooms, interrupting a hushed conversation between the Prince and his chamberlain, who had been looking at some papers on the table, the room illuminated by the setting sun through windows that were now sparklingly clean. They had both startled, Blaine staring at him wide-eyed while Santana turned to him, hands on her hips and a dark scowl on her face.

“And what the hell is your problem?” she snapped.

“My problem,” he shot back, “is that I just spent three hours sitting around waiting for someone who isn’t coming.”

Blaine looked at him, confused, and then back to Santana.

“What did you have him do?”

“I sent him to wait for Mike,” she replied blandly, turning back to the papers on the table, gathering them up swiftly.

“Mike isn’t scheduled to return for another three days,” Blaine said.

“Oops,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. Kurt was seriously considering leaping forward and ripping out her hair when Blaine spoke again.

“That’s unacceptable,” he scolded her. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You went too far.”

“Oh, whatever, it worked, didn’t it?” she sniped. “Not like it matters anymore, you’ve gone ahead and blown your own cover, so all our work has been for nothing anyway.”

“You’re excused, Santana,” Blaine said, and the command was implicit. She scoffed and threw her hair, sauntering out without another word.

“What is going on, Blaine?”

Blaine sighed, turning to face Kurt with a guilty look on his face.

“Do you know where Mike has gone?”

Kurt shook his head.

“Everyone just said he was out on business. I figured he was…I don’t know, doing whatever it is he’s done before. Securing materials and such.”

“No,” Blaine said, grabbing both of Kurt’s hands and drawing him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Mike is not securing materials or doing anything like he normally does. He’d have returned by now, as he’s only ever gone to Westerville or Lima anyway.”

“Then where is he?”

“Today? If all has been going according to plan, he should be in Defiance, visiting the Lady Harmony.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s one of the Lords under my ruling,” he said. “He’s making sure she’s aware that she will be expected to render accounts for the past seven years, and that she should send this years’ tithes as soon as she collects them from her people and the lesser nobles. As will the Lords of all the other provinces.”

Kurt’s eyes lit up.

“So it’s official?”

Blaine grinned at him, unable to help himself.

“As soon as all these workers get their damn jobs done, yes,” he said. “They’re taking their time as of this moment, but I’m sure they’ll speed once their payment is at least half paid. I expect court to be in session for the first time on my birthday.”

Kurt practically squealed, throwing his arms around Blaine’s neck and rocking him back with the force of his leap. They laughed into each other’s shoulders until Kurt suddenly pulled back, staring at Blaine with a look that made Blaine shrink back.

“And how stupid do you think I am?”

Blaine winced.

“I am very much aware of your intelligence, Kurt—“

“Apparently not,” Kurt interrupted. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? And what have the servants thought of keeping it from me? Aren’t they suspicious?”

“Santana informed them you were quite busy with business on my behalf, and they have been perfectly content with not bothering you with anything. And I had hoped to stall you until things were at least a bit more certain,” Blaine explained, “which, I’m glad to say, I accomplished. Those papers you saw Santana handling were the first of the accounts sent to us from Haverbrook. This years’ payments are on their way, and Lord Rumba, while a difficult man to handle in person, has very cooperatively sent me his plan for repaying me, so long as I provide him with written accounts of every session of court.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow at this, but Blaine quickly said, “He is partially deaf, and does not wish to attend court himself. He’ll send a proxy, who will send a messenger back after each major session with updates.”

Kurt nodded and sighed. He looked at Blaine a little nervously, biting his lip as he struggled to get his next thought out properly.

“Blaine,” he said finally, softly caressing Blaine’s hands in his own. “You are aware you won’t be able to wear your hood during court, aren’t you? You’re going to have to let everyone see.”

As he finished speaking, he lifted a hand to cup Blaine’s cheek, his thumb running over his cheek and the ridges of his scars. Blaine smiled ruefully for a moment before lowering his head to peek up at Kurt through his lashes.

“I don’t know about that,” he replied, his smile turning impish. Kurt’s breath caught in his chest. “I think it might add a certain amount of power, if no one can see what I’m thinking on my face.”

“Blaine—“

“I mean…you know what I’m thinking now, don’t you?” he continued, biting his lip and blinking up at Kurt coyly. “Just from the look on my face.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

Blaine grinned and shrugged, opening his mouth to say what Kurt was sure would be a teasing, charming quip. But he didn’t want to hear it. He bent down and kissed Blaine firmly, their mouths sliding together easily.

Blaine quickly pulled Kurt closer to him, obviously expecting more of what they’d done every night over the past five days—spending long stretches of time kissing, eventually heating up to find them twined together on the bed (or, on one memorable occasion, the table) in various states of undress, rocking against each other (or, on another memorable occasion, into each other’s hands).

However, Kurt had plans. He had been dying to see Blaine completely bare before him as he tried something new, and he intended to accomplish that immediately.

“I wish to show you how truly grateful I am, my lord,” Kurt whispered, nuzzling Blaine’s cheek and laying a lingering kiss on the uneven skin. Blaine shivered and tilted his face, his mouth falling open in a hot gasp.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Does this feel good?” Kurt asked, planting a kiss very carefully on the largest of Blaine’s scars.

“Yes,” Blaine breathed. “They’re…sensitive. Around the edges especially.”

Kurt hummed, laying Blaine back on the bed and shifting to hover over him, fingers carefully inching lower to lift his shirt and dance over his abdomen. Blaine squirmed, his hips twisting beneath Kurt’s own, his head thrown to the side to allow Kurt access to what he wanted.

He started at Blaine’s jaw, gently running his lips and tongue over the first scar, tracing it from one end to the other before moving on to the next. Blaine laughed when it led Kurt to brush against his eye, but when Kurt licked across the scars going through his lips, or laid a final kiss on the teardrop scar, Blaine arched up into him, leaning to capture Kurt’s mouth.

“I’m not done,” Kurt said, giving Blaine a quick peck to tide him over as he moved down to Blaine’s throat, his lips hovering just above the little nick in front of his Adam’s apple. “May I remove your shirt?”

Blaine did him one better—he sat up, almost unseating Kurt in the process, and removed the shirt himself, tossing it aside carelessly as he lay back and tilted his head again, arms wide, presenting himself. Kurt laughed and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to the little scar before moving to the knot on the side of his neck.

When he kissed the scar itself, Blaine didn’t react—but when he snuck up to suck under his jaw, just above the scar, Blaine bucked as though he’d been shocked, a quiet, surprised grunt escaping his lips. His breathing grew heavier and he pressed his neck into Kurt’s mouth, silently begging. Kurt obliged, sucking harder and biting down lightly.

“Gods, that feels good,” Blaine groaned, hands grasping at Kurt’s sides. “Kurt, I—“

Kurt hushed him, slipping down to lick long stripes over the scars on his clavicle, flattening his tongue so that he caught the sensitive edges of the raised flesh, writhing pleasurably when his tongue caught on wiry hair. He moved across them steadily, lavishing each one with attention, ending at Blaine’s shoulder, where he traced the wide circle of the bite scar with wet, sucking kisses, his hands running down Blaine’s upper arms, tracing the muscles as they tensed when Blaine clutched at him.

He moved further down, grinning when he realized he’d reached the long scar that ran clear across Blaine’s chest, starting at his collarbone and ending just next to his left nipple. He started at the bottom, ignoring the pebbled peak in favor of teasing, flicking the tip of his tongue in little kitten licks up the scar, sucking on the bone when he reached the other end.

“Gods, Kurt,” Blaine said, one hand threading into Kurt’s hair as the other continued to run over his back.

The hand in his hair clenched almost painfully as Kurt leaned down and licked the last of Blaine’s old scars, tracing it as it curved just over Blaine’s right nipple. But this time he didn’t neglect after the tease—he drew the nipple into his mouth, sucking on the little nub hard as he trailed his hands down Blaine’s ribs, desperate to feel the way his muscles moved when he arched his back so beautifully, the vibrations of his moans echoing through his bones.

“Kurt,” Blaine begged, “please.”

“Almost done,” Kurt assured, leaning down to very carefully brush his lips against the rapidly healing scars on Blaine’s side, not pressing down or licking, just skimming over them. Blaine was gasping above him, his breath coming in near sobs as Kurt worked lower.

He ended up at the edge of Blaine’s breeches, the laces tickling his chin as he laid a deep kiss to the soft round at the bottom of Blaine’s stomach, running his tongue over the thickened trail of hair that lead down. He looked up at his lover through his lashes as he continued ravishing the skin, his fingers deftly undoing the ties that were straining over the impressively hard bulge currently pushing toward him. As soon as the knots where free and Kurt pulled the flaps of leather aside and down, Blaine’s cock sprung free, glistening with precome, flushed a deep red from prolonged arousal. Kurt licked his lips, and Blaine instantly let out a shaky, overwhelmed breath, hands flying up to rub over his face.

“Oh, gods, Kurt, please tell me you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“What would that be, my lord?”

Kurt cut off any possible reply by running the flat of his tongue up the underside of Blaine’s cock, feeling every vein rippling against it. Above him, Blaine sounded like he was having trouble breathing, and Kurt smiled when he saw Blaine staring down at him heatedly, his hands fluttering like they didn’t know where to land.

Kurt swirled his tongue around the tip, grasping the base firmly in his hand, and then smiled widely up at Blaine before placing sloppy kisses over the hard length of him.

“I believe you have been deceiving me,” Blaine said, his voice strained. “I believed you as innocent and unlearned as I.”

“You have debauched me, my lord,” Kurt replied, barely holding in a laugh as he continued to tease Blaine as thoroughly as he could with his mouth, his free hand dropping to fondle the delicate skin of Blaine’s balls.

“I do not—ahh—doubt it,” Blaine said, “for you have done the same to me. But truly—where did you learn to do all this, love?”

“You would be surprised at how graphic some bard’s tales are, my sweet Prince. Especially when the bard is telling his tales to a room full of drunken men with nothing else on their minds but the pretty barmaid blushing in the corner.”

With that said, Kurt dove in, enclosing his mouth around the head of Blaine’s cock and sucking. Blaine let out a desperate noise Kurt had never heard from him before and bucked up. Thankfully, he had a firm grip with his hand and lips and merely moved back with the thrust, smirking a little to himself before resuming the task that was quite literally at hand.

After several minutes, Kurt discovered the rhythm that Blaine seemed to enjoy most—that is, the one that sent him falling back onto the bed, his stomach muscles jumping as he fought against the urge to simply fuck into Kurt’s mouth unrestrainedly, his hands fisted in his own hair, his mouth hanging open and letting out periodic cries of pleasure. He bobbed his head heavily, sinking down as far as he could go as quickly as he could manage before slowly dragging back up, hollowing out his cheeks and dragging his tongue up the underside. His hand grasped the base, but Kurt found, as he went on, that he could take more and more, especially when he rocked his head just as he hit the bottom, slipping the heavy weight in his mouth back into his throat for just an instant before he came back up. The first time he managed it without his throat closing in protest, Blaine swore loudly and let out a moan that was nearly a sob, and so Kurt continued to practice this new found skill until Blaine was babbling above him.

“Please—don’t stop, gods—I’m…I’m going to—“

Kurt continued his pattern until the very last second, until he felt Blaine pulsing against his lips. He pulled back just a little too late, stripes of hot come landing on his open lips and trickling down his chin.

“Oh, gods, Kurt, I am so sorry, that’s—I apologize—“

Blaine cut off when he realized Kurt was laughing, leaning his forehead against Blaine’s thigh as he giggled uncontrollably. Blaine stared stupidly, unsure of how to proceed, until Kurt lifted his head, his giggles dying down as he licked his lips clean experimentally, testing out the taste of it on his tongue.

“Kurt—“

Kurt looked up at Blaine again, swallowing the bitterness in his mouth, only to be met with Blaine’s mouth on his, sucking at what Kurt had missed on his initial swipe.

As they kissed feverishly, Blaine gripped Kurt’s shoulders, twisting until Kurt was lying back on the bed with Blaine now hovering above him. His clothes were quickly removed from his sweating skin, and Blaine took the advantage and pressed his own nakedness into Kurt’s side, running his hands over every inch he could reach before gripping Kurt’s leaking cock and stroking assuredly.

“That feels so good, Blaine,” Kurt whispered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, losing himself in the drag of Blaine’s hands and the feeling of a molten gaze roaming over him.

The pressure was building low in his gut, tightening deep within him, but not enough. His hips stuttered, thrusting his cock into Blaine’s fist, straining toward the edge that felt just out of reach. He cried out in frustration, chasing the moment when could finally tip over the edge into sweet release, coming close several times but never quite making it. Something felt like it was missing.

And then Blaine parted his thighs gently with his free hand, running his fingers up the inside until they met with the soft flesh behind his balls. Blaine stroked it firmly, daring to go further and further back with every stroke, until he brushed between Kurt’s cheeks and over the pucker there. Kurt gasped, his orgasm hitting him like a battering ram, his come spurting out powerfully, streaking up to his collarbone

He must have drifted, because the next thing he knew a warm cloth was running over his body, cleaning him of sweat and come with slow, gentle swipes. He opened his eyes and saw Blaine standing next to the bed, tending him with a loving smile on his face, his eyes caressing Kurt’s body as tenderly as his hands.

Kurt reached out both arms invitingly, smiling up at his Prince. Blaine smiled back and nodded, setting the cloth back in the basin of water before slipping into Kurt’s arms. They turned on their sides, limbs twining together, their chests pressed together as close as they could get as they nuzzled each other’s faces, kissing sweetly and smiling at each other as they basked in the glow.

“I have to go back, soon,” Kurt said quietly after several minutes, regret filling his voice. It was the same every night—they held each other until Kurt felt it was time for him to return to his own rooms, to avoid suspicion.

“No,” Blaine protested, clutching Kurt closer and closing his eyes, as though shutting out the world made it less real. “Stay. Talk to me for a bit. If anyone asks, I kept you late discussing new outfits for court. I’m going to need lots of new clothing, after all.”

“And you expect me to make all of it on top of this special garment I’m making now?”

“Of course not,” Blaine scoffed. “But we’ll tell everyone that. They needn’t know that I’ll be sending off for court-appropriate clothing when some more funds come in.”

Kurt grinned, shaking his head.

“Fine,” Kurt relented, “but only for a little while longer. Staying all night would most certainly raise eyebrows.”

Blaine hummed happily, relaxing into Kurt with a contented smile on his face. Kurt looked upon him, well aware of the besotted expression on his own face, studying Blaine’s face with the greatest bliss.

“You are staring at me.”

Kurt laughed quietly. “That I am.”

“I’m not used to it,” Blaine admitted. “It feels so strange.”

“You should be accustomed to it soon enough,” Kurt said. “I will be doing it every chance you give me.”

“Why do you enjoy it so?” Blaine asked, his smile fading slowly. Kurt frowned. “I know that I am…I am less pleasant to look upon than other—“

“Hush.” Kurt reached up and stroked Blaine’s cheek, tilting his face to make Blaine look at him. He stared into amber eyes intently and said with the greatest conviction, “You are beautiful, Blaine. Everyone has scars. Yours are just…presented to the world immediately. It does not make you hideous. In fact, I find you to be the handsomest man I’ve ever known, and I’ll have you know I have quite discerning tastes.”

Blaine’s eyes shone, filling with tears. “You cannot mean that.”

“I do,” Kurt said truthfully. “I will admit I expected something grotesque from the way you hid, but you are anything but. I would not doubt that should you reveal yourself to the court, everyone would be forced to admit that you surpass even Cooper in terms of beauty.”

“That is not true.”

“It is,” Kurt insisted. “I have seen Cooper, both in person and in portrait, and while he was most certainly one of the most pleasing men to look upon, there was something too…unattainable about him. You are warm, Blaine, and not at all intimidating, at least when you are in a pleasant mood.” Blaine laughed self-deprecatingly at the barb. Kurt smiled fondly. “It is much easier to gaze upon you and I will not be alone in that assessment.”

As a few tears escaped Blaine’s eyes, falling down his face in shining trails, Kurt leaned forward and kissed them away, tasting the salt on his tongue as he drew back, only to kiss Blaine passionately, hoping to still the trembling of his lips. Blaine melted into him, his whole body shivering. Kurt hushed him, stroking him comfortingly.

“You cannot know how much that means to me, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, his voice rough. He looked at Kurt earnestly. “I love you, so very much.”

“And I love you,” Kurt whispered back. “I think you judge yourself too harshly, Blaine. People will see that you are just as human as they are, I know it.”

Blaine sighed. “You must know that that is not the only reason I hide, don’t you? It is not all vanity.”

Kurt heard the pleading in Blaine’s tone, the beg for understanding. He looked at Blaine frankly and asked, “Why else did you hide?”

Blaine took a moment before responding.

“I have no training for this,” he said, “and after Cooper’s death…I had to heal, and I had to learn, but I had no one to teach me. So I hid away and tried to figure it out, but by the time I was recovered and educated it was too late—everyone had abandoned me, abandoned the court. And everyone was saying that I was cursed, or that I had killed Cooper…no one knew, no one wanted to know. And I couldn’t—I was still a child, I didn’t know how to fix it, I had no—“

“Shh, I understand,” Kurt interrupted, soothing Blaine again with the touch of his hands and lips. “I’m so sorry you had to face that, Blaine. I’m sorry people were not more patient. I’m sorry you were alone. If I could go back and tell my younger self to find you and help you through it, I would—I ache to think of you facing that by yourself.”

“I would like that,” Blaine said, smiling sadly, “if only because I would have years longer with you, and perhaps I would not have been such an ass about everything.”

“I understand now, though. You’ve spent so long with no one to confide in and no one to see what’s really within you—what’s beneath your scars. In fact, I am so immensely proud of you for being strong enough to face this, to face me. I know I was not easy on you either.”

Blaine’s smile was radiant, and happiness suffused his face. Suddenly, he laughed.

“It’s behind us, now,” Blaine declared, kissing over Kurt’s face, tipping him onto his back and laying over him, ravishing him playfully as Kurt laughed. “Now you are forever doomed to have me begging at your feet for affection. You have quite ruined my stoic exterior, Master Hummel.”

“I do not doubt that you can maintain it whilst outside these walls, your majesty,” Kurt replied saucily, “though I will do my best to make it difficult for you.”

Blaine drew in a sharp breath, looking down at Kurt in wonder.

“Majesty?”

Kurt looked back up at him, puzzled.

“Of course,” Kurt said. “Soon you will be returned to court, ruling over your people once again. I believe it’s proper to call one’s sovereign Majesty or Highness, is it not?”

Blaine shook his head, huffing out a disbelieving breath.

“It is,” he said, falling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I just…it did not seem real until just then.”

Kurt shifted, tucking himself into Blaine’s side, laying his head on Blaine’s chest, his fingers toying with the wiry hairs there. He laid a quick kiss to the nearest scar.

“It is real, Blaine,” he whispered. “It is real.”