By seven he was pacing the hallway, half-dressed and wearing only one shoe after the last time he'd decided it was a bad idea to go running around New York in the middle of the night.

He's a grown man. He got here by himself, he'll be fine.

His cell went off at eight, trilling quietly from his room. He ran for it, hoping by some miracle that Blaine's talking birds at least had the courtesy to teach him how to use a phone.

He laughed at himself, at the sheer ridiculousness of his train of thought, mostly to keep from crying.

"Hello?"

"Kurt!" Rachel called down the line. "Just letting you know I won't be home tonight."

"Oh," Kurt said, disappointment clear and even in his tone. He slumped on the edge of his bed.

"Is everything okay? How's Blaine?"

"He's…" Kurt's voice cracked, and he hunched over, rubbing his forehead. "He's gone."

"What?"

"I let him go," Kurt said softly. "He was only staying one night, he has a princess to find, remember?"

"Wait," Rachel's voice turned hard. "You let him go? In the middle of New York? At night?"

"He did what?" a familiar voice came down the line, tinny and soft in the background, and Kurt froze.

"Wait, was that-?"

"Kurt," Rachel cut him off, "please, please tell me you know where he is?"

Kurt swallowed roughly.

"Oh god," she said. "Kurt, you have to find him, okay? He could get hurt."

"He's a grown man," Kurt snapped. "He has a sword, for crying out loud. He can take care of himself."

"Kurt, he's not ready, he's not used to it. We talked all day. He told me so much, I truly-"

"Don't tell me you believe him," Kurt cut her off.

Her breath came down the line in a tired huff. "I do."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Rachel, he thinks he's a prince."

"So what if he's not?" she asked. "He's a prince, he's not a prince, does it matter?"

"It- it-"

"Kurt," she said firmly. "Forget about the costume. Forget about the sword and the singing and the birds you saw flying around him this morning. Forget all of that. The rest is Blaine. You tell me right now he's not worth finding."

Kurt's breath pulled in on a tiny gasp.

He's out there alone.

"I'm going," he said softly, flicking his phone off and snatching up his coat.

He was out on the street by eight fifteen, wandering and occasionally calling his name. He checked the park, pushed through the late crowds and crossed alleys, always searching. Every flash of blue or silver made his stomach flip. But it was never Blaine.

Come one a.m. he was back in bed, tossing and turning and thumping his pillow in frustration.

He called his office at six to take the day off.

Ten minutes later he was out on the street again, coffee in hand, ready to walk half the city if he had to. The voice in his head kept repeating the same barrage of questions; Why didn't you go after him? What if he's hurt? What if he's lost, and scared?

He walked a little faster, for awhile.

As he went, he found himself realising just how much he missed New York. So much of it had been swept away in regularity - the every day, the mundane ritual of sleep and work and life. He wandered the streets slowly, carefully, sure to stop and look everywhere this time, blessed with the comforting assistance of daylight.

The city spread out before him, loud and busy and full of life. Real life. And for the first time in a long time, Kurt wished for just the tiniest hint of a fairytale.

By the late afternoon he'd come back around to the park, walking along pathways a third time. He knew Blaine loved the park, it made sense that he'd come here. Unless he just picked a direction and started walking…

He sat down on a bench in the shade briefly, skimming over the open space, mouth dry and legs sore from the day spent wandering the streets. His heart ached, and he tried to quell the panic that kept rising in his throat whenever he thought for too long.

The shriek from behind him pulled him out of his misery, and he turned long enough to see a little boy trip and fall face-down in the grass. The two other boys right behind him were laughing.

After a moment he realised the boy wasn't tripped - he was pushed.

Kurt was on his feet and two strides over to them when the little boy pulled himself up off the ground and shouted in a high-pitched voice, thumping tiny fists against his attackers. The other boys pushed him down again, still mocking and jeering until they were suddenly swept into the air, lifted by their shirts.

Kurt stopped, quickly slipping into the shadow of a nearby tree and staring.

Blaine.

"I think you should apologise to this young maiden," Blaine instructed firmly, his tone light and smooth. If he felt any strain at holding two children in the air like rag-dolls, he certainly didn't show it.

Kurt blinked, and looked to the small figure on the ground. It took him a moment to realise she was, in fact, a little girl - dressed in boy's clothes with short-cropped hair. She stared up at Blaine with huge eyes, surprise and shock on her face.

The boys squirmed in his grip, cursing and kicking, but he didn't put them down.

"I'll not release you until you apologise," he said calmly.

"Sorry!"

"Fine, sorry!" they whined.

Blaine let them go with a nudge, and called after them as they scampered away. "Try not to act so dishonourably in future, you bring shame on your families!"

The little girl was still gaping at him as he crouched down.

"Are you alright, small princess?"

She hiccupped softly in the last remnants of her angry tears. "Y-yes."

He smiled sweetly, lowering himself to sit across from her. "Don't worry about them, they'll feel disgrace for what they've done. And often that is punishment enough."

"They c-called me a b-boy," she said sadly. "But like it was bad."

"I don't see what's wrong with being a boy," Blaine said, considering carefully. "I don't see what's wrong with being a girl, either."

"I like being a b-boy, you get to do more things," she informed him seriously.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "In Daltasia everybody gets to do the same things, if they truly want to."

She blinked at him.

"I come from there," he told her with a nod. "I'm the prince of Daltasia. It's a beautiful kingdom, very far away."

"But only boys get to be princes," she said, "and kings."

"True," Blaine agreed. "But girls can be princesses, and queens."

"It's d-different," she argued. "Girls have to wear dresses and boys get to do the important stuff."

He tilted his head. "Not in Daltasia. If it weren't for the Dual Queens, we wouldn't have our kingdom."

Her tiny brow pinched in confusion. "What's a Dual Queen?"

With a proud smile he leaned back, holding the edges of his tunic to show her the crest. Kurt watched from the shadow of his tree, listening intently.

"A very long time ago, there were two sides of our world, the Blue of the east, and the Red of the west. The kings of both sides were at war, until one day they were both slain in their folly and greed to each possess what the other owned," he explained, and both Kurt and the small girl stared on, captivated.

"Their widowed queens, both braver and smarter, met in secret and forged an alliance to bring their two kingdoms together in peace. And so, became Daltasia," he pointed to the two linked crowns on his tunic, "under the rule of the Dual Queens; one of Red, for passion and love and spirit, and one of Blue, for law and logic and reason. Together they ruled for a very long time, under the banner of peace."

"Wow," the little girl breathed.

"You got that right," Kurt murmured to himself, realising all at once that he could probably listen to Blaine tell stories all day.

"What happened to them?" she asked.

"They passed on their line," Blaine said, "and over the years the rule returned to kings. But legend has it one day, the Dual Queens will return, and everlasting peace will return with them."

"I could be a queen," the little girl said.

"Or," Blaine offered, "you could be a king. Nobody should tell you which one to be. But which ever you are, remember that you can do anything."

She smiled at him, wiping her face. "Thank you, Prince-"

"Blaine," Kurt finished for her, finally approaching them. "His name is Blaine."

"Kurt!" Blaine's entire face lit up in delight. He swept to his feet, grinning broadly as he closed the gap between them and seized him in a tight hug.

"Oh!" Kurt laughed, and after a moment let his head drop to the curve of Blaine's neck, resting his arms over both shoulders.

It felt good. Too good - like at once everything in the world would be alright as long as he could make sure Blaine was real, and solid under his fingertips.

Blaine pulled away first, his hands lingering at Kurt's waist. "I missed you!" he said brightly. "This city is vast, and I've made many new friends, but none quite like you."

"Oh," Kurt said, breathless and trying to keep his balance. "I'm- I'm sorry, about yesterday. I didn't mean to - I'm just glad you're alright."

"Of course I'm alright," Blaine said with a light, reassuring squeeze at Kurt's hips.

He turned to the little girl, now on her feet and staring at them.

"I sadly must bid you goodbye," he said, bowing slightly before he added; "your majesty."

She grinned back at him, shoving her fists shyly into her pockets before she nodded, waved, and ran away giggling.

"That was a very sweet story," Kurt said with a smile.

Blaine turned to him, beaming. "It's the greatest story of Daltasia, all children are told. It's also my favourite."

"I can tell," Kurt said, gaze trailing over Blaine's face. On a hesitant breath, he finally managed to say; "I missed you too."

Blaine's watched him, eyes warm and bright in the fast-fading afternoon sun, his expression nothing short of adoring.

Kurt seized another breath, realising they were essentially just standing still and staring at each other. "Walk with me?" he asked, tilting his head towards the path.

With a nod, Blaine followed, and they wandered down the park at an easy pace.

"I'm - so sorry, Blaine," Kurt began, head slightly bowed. "About last night. I didn't mean to say those things."

"You did," Blaine said simply, and smiled at Kurt's stunned look. "It's alright. The squirrels were kind, they lead me to a safe place to rest. I spent the evening in the company of a delightful old crone named Mag, she lives at the edge of the park." He gestured with a wave of his hand. "She said not everybody here believes in love. As much as it hurts my heart to know that you don't, I believe I understand, now."

"Oh?" Kurt asked, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

"You haven't found your princess, either," Blaine said sympathetically. "I can appreciate how hard it is to keep believing."

Kurt blinked, confused. "Blaine…" He tried to understand why it hadn't sunk in the first time. I already told him.

It only took him a moment, but he started laughing to himself.

Blaine's puzzled expression set him off again, just as he'd calmed down.

"What is it?" Blaine asked, face lit with delight at Kurt's laughter.

"Nothing," Kurt said, waving his hand. "It's… ohhh, it's nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Regardless, you did me no wrong last night," Blaine went on. "Please don't feel that you have."

Kurt nodded, finally calming down from his giggles. "Thank you," he said softly. "I don't think that I can do much, but I'd like to help."

Blaine's brow lifted.

"To find your princess," Kurt clarified. "You can stay… with me. If you want to."

Kurt didn't know how it was possible for Blaine to grin harder than he was already, but somehow, he managed it.

"Oh, Kurt, thank you!" Blaine gathered him in another ecstatic hug, this time resting his head against Kurt's chest, leaving Kurt's arms free.

He stumbled slightly with the impact, bewildered and blinking as his hand came to rest on Blaine's shoulder, the other in his hair.

"You're welcome," he said softly, overwhelmed.

Blaine drew back too quickly. "One day, I will show you Daltasia," he insisted, voice thick with emotion. "One day I will repay you for your kindness."

"Just give me the name of your dry-cleaner," Kurt said lightly. "If you can spend the night in central park and somehow still smell like a meadow, he must be a miracle worker."

Blaine smiled at him knowingly. "You're making a joke."

"And you're catching on," Kurt answered with a warm smile.

They wandered through the park, stopping for hot-dogs for dinner and to rest on a bench as Blaine talked about his adventures the night before. The light had faded to grey slowly over the afternoon, and dark clouds were threatening to crack the sky open once they'd reached the edge of the park.

"We should get back before it rains," he said, and just as he did a peal of thunder shook the air.

"Oh my," Blaine said, stunned and staring upward. "What was that?"

"I take it there are no storms in Daltasia?"

"I've never seen one," Blaine said, voice tinted with worry. "I've heard they can be terrible things."

"Not really." Kurt shrugged. "Just rain and thunder, sometimes lightning. Nothing to be afraid of."

The low boom rolled across the sky again, and Blaine jumped, huddling close to Kurt's side.

He couldn't help his laughter at the panicky look on Blaine's face. "It's alright, you won't get hurt."

The sky split open above them, and the rain came in a heavy torrent. Cursing, Kurt grappled for Blaine's hand, tugging him along towards the nearest cab rank.

Blaine was stumbling behind him, and it took a moment for Kurt to realise he was laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Kurt shouted over the pounding hiss of the rain.

"It's raining!" Blaine shouted back, his face open and elated, peering up at the sky. "It's wonderful!"

"You think everything is wonderful!" Kurt cried out, laughing.

"Everything is wonderful!" Blaine shouted. "Especially with you."

Kurt stopped and they bumped into each other, slipping on the mud.

Speechless, he held tight to Blaine's shoulders, keeping them both from falling over. There were raindrops clinging to Blaine's eyelashes, and the curls of his hair had flattened against his forehead, glistening in the pale light. Kurt drew an unsteady breath, gladly drowning in the rush of water and the pounding of his heartbeat in his own ears.

Blaine's breath was hot across his lips as they smiled at each other, sliding and jerking intermittently on the unstable ground. "You're soaked," Blaine said, rubbing at Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt's brow lifted in surprise and he finally realised that Blaine had spoken. "Oh. Ye- yeah. We should… get back."

The cab rank was empty, but they were already wet through and through. They tumbled down the street in an awkward run, still clinging tight to each other's shoulders and scrambling across the sidewalk as they raced back to Kurt's apartment.

They were both breathless and dizzy from laughing and running by the time they made it through the door, and Kurt let it slip closed behind him.

Blaine cast a fond glance around the apartment before he turned, and tugged at his tunic to peel it away from his skin.

"I can get you something else to wear, while it dries," Kurt offered, and realised that Blaine was shivering lightly. "Have a shower, you're freezing."

Blaine nodded once and turned for the bathroom, teeth chattering. He jumped a few steps in when another boom of thunder shook the room.

Kurt chuckled. "It's alright, I promise."

With a worried glance over his shoulder, Blaine wandered off to the bathroom in small, squelching steps. When he spotted them, Kurt scooped up the clothes he'd stacked neatly on the blanket box, left unused from Blaine's first night.

"Here," he said, catching up. "Take these."

Blaine nodded rapidly as he took the bundle, and Kurt tried to fight the snort of laughter that rose up when he realised that Blaine looked much like a drowned muppet.

"Oh-kay, shower's there." Kurt guided him down the rest of the hallway. "Warm up."

When the door slipped shut, Kurt huffed out a relieved sigh. Blaine was alright. Freezing, wet, and still as blindly joyful as ever. But he was alright.

He squirmed uncomfortably in his own saturated clothes as he headed for his room, suddenly grateful for his ensuite and the balanced water pressure in his apartment. The shower was blissfully warm on his skin, but he didn't linger long, slipping out and drying himself quickly before he pulled on comfortable clothes for the night.

Padding out to the living room again, he gathered the latest pile of sketches from the edge of his coffee table, flopping onto the couch and pushing his glasses over his nose to browse through them. He knew taking the day off was a bad idea, and he'd surely pay for it by the end of the week, but it was well worth it for the fact that Blaine was home.

He gasped softly, stiffening in his seat.

Home?

His thoughts were interrupted with the soft sound of bare feet on wood floors as Blaine emerged through the archway. "This weave is incredible, your spinning wheels must be enchanted."

Kurt's jaw fell as he stared openly, barely blinking.

Blaine was smaller without the cape and tunic, but his shoulders were still broad, tan and perfectly smooth, swelling in firm lines of muscle out either side of the singlet shirt. His biceps were stunningly defined, and his arms tapered in a way that made his hands look as impossibly large as they'd felt in Kurt's own just a few nights before.

His waist was so much smaller than Kurt had imagined, his hips narrow and thighs firm, the muscle obscured by the weight of the sweatpants that fell down well past his feet and covered them. If Kurt hadn't been lost for words and for breath, he might have snorted at how adorable it was; the pants covering Blaine's feet like a small child in too-big pyjamas.

Blaine was staring back at him, gaze fond and light, waiting but not embarrassed in the slightest at Kurt's ogling stare.

There was something about Blaine in normal clothes that made Kurt's stomach do somersaults, flipping impossibly somewhere up near his throat.

"I- I-"

"What are those?" Blaine asked curiously, pointing to Kurt's face.

"What?" Kurt asked, eyes still huge and staring.

"On your face," Blaine said softly, drifting in small steps over to the couch and sinking down beside him.

Kurt felt suddenly very self-conscious, sitting around in an unflattering t-shirt and sweat pants, wearing his stupid work glasses. Stupid my ass, these are Dolce, a sharp voice reminded him.

"Oh," he breathed. "Glasses. They're glasses."

"What do they do?" Blaine leaned in very close, so close Kurt was dizzy in the wake of the strong, sweet smell of soap, and something warm and masculine underneath.

"They- I-" Kurt swallowed, focusing and finding his words. "They help me see. Up close."

Blaine's face fell. "You can't see up close without them? You - you can't see me?"

"No, no." Kurt laughed softly. "I can see you. I can see, but - I can't read very well, without them."

"Oh," Blaine rocked back on his thighs, smiling. "I can't imagine that. I love to read."

"You do?" Kurt's brow lifted in surprise.

Blaine nodded. "I don't get much chance to, back home. Too many trolls to slay, peasants to help. There's a lot to being a prince."

"Apparently," Kurt said, amused.

"May I?" Blaine asked, but he was already reaching out, and the warmth of his fingers on the sides of Kurt's face made him gasp.

Blaine pulled off his glasses carefully, and lifted them to look through.

"Here," Kurt said, smiling and twisting to drop his sketches on the side table. He took the glasses from Blaine, turning them and sliding them over his face.

Blaine blinked rapidly, trying to focus his eyes, smiling and glancing around the room. "This is very strange," he said.

Kurt couldn't help his grin. "They look good on you."

Blaine smiled proudly, adjusting them on his face. "It's a shame I can't see in them."

"No, it's really not," Kurt said, reaching up to take them back and drop them on the side-table with his papers.

Blaine blinked and swayed at the sudden change in his vision, and Kurt braced him gently with soft laugh. "Whoa, steady," he said, hands darting up to Blaine's face before he realised what he was doing.

He froze still, stunned and unable to move with his fingers grazing over Blaine's jawline. Blaine's eyelashes fluttered for a moment before he settled, watching Kurt with fascinated eyes, lips parting gently to breathe.

Kurt knew he was moving, he had the strangest sense of floating, being drawn forward by some invisible force. Blaine's hands lifted up and covered over his own, holding them soft to his face, curling around the edges of his palms.

He could taste Blaine's breath on his tongue, and he revelled in the warmth of it rushing over his lips. Blaine's hands let go, ghosting over his own flushed cheeks and cupping his face gently, thumb stroking feather-light over his cheekbone.

When Blaine's gaze fell to his mouth, Kurt's heart lodged in his throat, and stopped completely at the barest brush of lips on his own as his eyes drifted closed.

Thunder clapped, shaking the walls and jolting them both in a violent flurry of limbs as they almost fell off the couch.

Kurt let out a surprised, awkward laugh, gripping Blaine's shoulders and helping him sit upright.

"It's just… thunder," he said, voice higher than ever as he shifted in his seat. "I should. I have some things to work on, but then I should get to bed. I haven't slept much. We can-"

"Kurt-" Blaine's voice was urgent, his face drawn in confusion.

"No, it's alright," Kurt said quickly. "I can afford to take tomorrow off, so we can - start looking," he patted Blaine's knee, drawing himself up off the couch, "for your princess."

"Oh," Blaine said softly.

"I should get some work done tonight." He shifted and gathered his sketches and glasses from the lamp table as he spoke. "But you should - feel free to - read anything or watch anything," he gestured to the bookshelves, "and tomorrow we can keep searching."

"Good night, Kurt," Blaine said eagerly as Kurt shuffled away.

"Good night," he answered without looking back.

Blaine watched him disappear, pinned to the couch by the invisible weight in his chest, his breath still trapped in his lungs. He let his mouth fall open again, struggling around a thought that almost became a word, eyelashes fluttering in shock and the sudden, acute awareness, flaring deep inside.

He pressed a hand to his stomach, and let his eyes fall closed as he let out a shaky, long-held breath.

"Oh my."