“Kurt.”

Kurt blinks, the beginnings of sleep slowly creeping away as awareness returns. He shifts, propping himself on one arm so he can look over Blaine’s shoulder; his face is relaxed with sleep, his parted lips moving slightly, his breaths slow and deep. Kurt focuses, ears perked.

“Kurt.” There it is again, barely audible, but there and Kurt is sure he’s not dreaming. He sits up quickly, scooting slightly so he can gently roll Blaine onto his back. Blaine stirs at the movement, eyes cracking blearily and Kurt knows he’ll fall right back asleep if he doesn’t say something.

“Hey, Blaine,” he says softly, brushing Blaine’s cheek lightly.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s brow creases slightly and Kurt feels his heart leap into his throat. Blaine is still too fuzzy with sleep to understand what’s happening and he rolls himself towards Kurt.

“Blaine,” Kurt tries, reluctant to wake Blaine up but the hammering of his heart won’t let him not try. “Blaine, you said my name.”

“-m sleep,” Blaine mumbles, lips barely moving but he said it. Kurt heard it and he’s certainly not dreaming. Not anymore. Blaine tries to snuggle into him but even at night when his body is the most relaxed his movements are still stiff and awkward. Kurt lays back down, helping Blaine until their foreheads are touching, Kurt’s hand resting on Blaine’s waist.

“I love you,” Kurt says softly. Blaine’s eyelashes are dark against his skin as they give a small flutter and Blaine snuggles in closer.

“-ove hmm…” Kurt can feel the small vibrations when Blaine speaks. Every week they go to speech therapists, occupational therapists, physical therapists, cognitive therapists, and Blaine is trying so, so hard. Kurt can see it in the intense look he gets in his eyes, the way his hands tense up and his brow furrows. He’s made sounds, trying desperately hard to force his mouth to form the letters needed to say the words he wants, but Kurt thinks that’s the problem. He tries too hard, works himself up, stresses himself out and he can’t. The words fall dead on lips that refuse to cooperate, a tongue that is suddenly awkward and clumsy.

But now, loose from the calm of sleep, with no pressure to perform and no one to let down, there’s nothing stopping him. And Kurt knows Blaine can do it. Someday, hopefully soon, Blaine will let down whatever guards he has up, will hold Kurt’s hand and say those three little words that mean so much. Kurt has no doubt.

He falls asleep listening to Blaine’s wordless mumbling, the sound sweeter than any bedtime lullaby could ever be.

December 25th, 2018

Kurt is a flurry of activity, moving around so fast Blaine had long ago stopped trying to keep up with him. The Hummel-Hudson family is arriving in T-minus two hours and Kurt hasn’t stopped moving all day, muttering about whether the throw pillows match the Christmas ornaments, or if he dares to use the fine china with Finn around, or if mistletoe is homey and cute or just tacky, and he’s batted away any of Blaine’s attempts to help.

“Are the tea cozies too much?” Kurt asks, brow furrowing in real concentration. Blaine shakes his head.

“No.” Kurt looks at him and smiles, as he does every time Blaine speaks, like he can’t get enough of his voice. Which is true. Every time Blaine says something Kurt feels his heart flutter and he’s struck with the overwhelming sense of how far they’ve come. How much progress Blaine has made, even after all those doctors told them everything not to expect. What do they know about Blaine?

“Kurt,” Blaine’s soft, slightly stilted voice stops Kurt’s fussing. Kurt is immediately beside Blaine and he can almost feel the nervous energy crackling off him.

“I have…” Blaine pauses and Kurt waits patiently for him to find the words. Since Blaine broke through the barrier in his mind that was keeping him from speaking he has surprised both Kurt and the speech therapist with this improvements, but he still has a long way to go. He often has trouble finding the right words and forgets what he’s saying halfway through. He will mix up his words and sentences, or say things that just don’t make sense. But any progress is good progress.

“I have a pr-esent,” Blaine says after a moment, struggling on the p sound.

“We’re doing presents tomorrow, remember?” Kurt reminds. Blaine shakes his head.

“I want to…just you.”

“You want me to open it before the others get here?” Kurt interprets and Blaine nods enthusiastically. Kurt raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I suppose,” he says. “Dad and Carole never have to know.”
With a wink Kurt grabs the box that had appeared under their tree one day when he was at work. It’s surprisingly light and Kurt flops onto the couch beside Blaine before carefully peeling off the tape and unwrapping it without a single tear in the paper (something Kurt prides himself in). He opens the box and stares. In it sits a single sheet of white paper, adorned with Blaine’s shaky handwriting.

Take my hands. That’s all it says. Kurt looks at Blaine in confusion and Blaine just smiles and holds out his hands. Kurt takes them in his own and Blaine’s eyes motion expectantly in front of him and Kurt stands, thoroughly confused. Blaine’s fingers squeeze his tightly and his arms tense as he begins to pull himself up. Kurt starts, bracing himself so he isn’t pulled on top of Blaine.

“Blaine, what…?” He takes half a step back and Blaine is standing all the way. This in itself isn’t that unusual, Kurt helps Blaine stand to transfer into his chair, or the bed, the car. What makes Kurt give a surprised squeak is how Blaine lifts his right foot and steps forward, and then his left, until he’s pressing against Kurt.

“Blaine…” Kurt breathes, sliding his hands down Blaine’s forearms to his elbows, offering more support. Blaine smiles that Blaine smile, the one that melts Kurt’s heart every time, without fail.

“Move,” Blaine says and Kurt takes a step back obediently. Blaine follows, leaning heavily on Kurt for balance but still walking.

“Blaine, you’re walking,” Kurt says, voice high with disbelief. Blaine’s toe drags on the floor and he stumbles but Kurt is there, grip tightening as he steps forward and wraps his arms around Blaine, hugging him tightly. These are the moments he has in his dreams, the ones where Blaine does everything the doctors told him he’d never do again and Kurt wants to scream at the world that’s my boyfriend and he’s accomplished more than you ever will. But he doesn’t, cause that would be rude and ridiculous, even for him. He does hold Blaine closer, tears pricking his eyes as Blaine looks up and says, “Merry Christmas.”

Kurt is pretty sure this is the best Christmas ever.

March 16th, 2019

The match flares to life with a hiss and Kurt watches the flame for a moment before lowering it to the candle. Call him a hopeless romantic, call him cheesy, call him whatever you want, but Kurt’s been planning this night all week and he doesn’t want anything to ruin it. Certainly not artificial lighting, and the relaxing scent of a vanilla soy candle can only help him at this point.

Blaine, propped up against the headboard in a comfortable nest of pillows, is looking at him curiously as Kurt tears his eyes from the flickering lights (he’s spent the past ten minutes lighting a total of twenty-three candles) and Kurt swallows down his nerves. He’s sure about this. He talked to Blaine’s doctor, which was possibly the most horribly uncomfortable and embarrassing conversation he’s ever had and he intends to never repeat ever. Ever. But he got the okay go, and that’s what matters.

With a deep breath Kurt squashes the thought of the stuffy old man and focuses on now. His heart pounds as he crawls up on the bed beside Blaine, snuggling into him, just spending a moment to breathe in his scent and, even though he doesn’t really want to admit it, calm his nerves. It’s been so long, and Kurt wants everything to be perfect.

“Doing a s�ance or some…something?” Blaine asks, sounding amused. Kurt just leans forward and presses a kiss to Blaine’s cheek, the stubble rough on his lips, but not unpleasant. Blaine turns his head to look at Kurt, eyes confused. Kurt moves and brushes his lips against Blaine’s, unable to ignore the excited flip of his stomach. He presses forward into a closed mouth kiss, eyes fluttering shut and he almost feels like sobbing at the emotions that are pulsing through his veins. He hasn’t kissed Blaine, not like this, since before. There have been kisses, many, many kisses, but always his cheek, or his forehead, his hand, even the very edge of his mouth, but never the lips. It just didn’t feel right, not then. But now…Kurt doesn’t think anything has ever felt more right in his entire life.

After several long moments in which Kurt forgets to breathe he pulls away, tongue flickering over his lips breathlessly. Blaine’s eyes are closed and Kurt makes a noise that sounds half between a laugh and a sob and he wishes his emotions would just figure themselves out right now. Blaine’s eyes open at that and there’s a swirl of emotion in them that Kurt figures probably just about matches his.

Instead of saying anything Kurt just leans in again, inhaling deeply. This kiss is more desperate, but just as tender, and Kurt lets his mouth open slightly, his tongue lightly tracing Blaine’s lip. Blaine is still and for a single, heart-wrenching moment Kurt wonders if this is too much, if he’s overstepping and Blaine just isn’t ready. And then he responds, hand reaching to grip Kurt’s bicep as his lips part, soft breath exhaling and Kurt hasn’t realized how much he’s missed this until right now, in this moment.

Kurt lets his tongue make its way slowly into Blaine’s mouth and Blaine arches his head up, inviting Kurt in. Kurt shifts himself awkwardly so that he’s almost on top of Blaine, hand reaching behind Blaine’s neck. They kiss like this for awhile, it’s slow and lazy and careful, but more beautiful than anything Kurt’s ever felt. When they finally pull apart Blaine looks flushed, cheeks rosy and lips a dark red. Kurt smiles.

“Was that ok?” he asks and Blaine just nods, too flustered to try and find the right words. Feeling far more confident than when he started Kurt gazes into Blaine’s eyes without blinking, searching for even the slightest warning of too far, too much as his hand slides under the covers and he lightly presses into Blaine over his pajamas. Blaine’s eyes widen and he jolts slightly. Kurt’s fingers move to toy with the elastic of Blaine’s waistband.

“Can I?” He stops and waits for permission, wanting to take this at a pace Blaine is comfortable with. Blaine nods and Kurt kisses Blaine’s jaw line up to his ear where he whispers, voice sounding more nervous and excited than he would like it too.

“If it’s too much, if you feel uncomfortable at all, just pinch me and I’ll stop, ok?” Blaine nods again and Kurt kisses the soft skin right below his earlobe. “I love you so much.”

With that his fingers sneak under the elastic and he takes Blaine in his hand. Blaine lets out a breathy moan that makes Kurt’s heart pound with excitement. He strokes him softly and Blaine’s breathing gets heavy, eyes fluttering shut once again, as he slowly gets hard. Kurt takes his time, just like the doctor (oh god, don’t think of him now) had instructed. Blaine might not respond like normal, he had said. It might take him longer, or it might not happen at all.
Don’t get your hopes up. Be prepared to go slow.

A sharp gasp erases all thoughts of the doctor from Kurt’s mind. Even after eleven months Kurt still remembers how to make Blaine come undone and Blaine shudders below him as Kurt wraps him in his fist and strokes up, thumb teasing the tip, before easing back down with a twist. Blaine buries his head in Kurt’s shoulder, his breaths coming quicker, hair dampening with sweat. Kurt revels in Blaine, in the way their bodies fit so perfectly, the way their hearts seem to beat in time, the electricity that flows between them, draws them together until Kurt is certain they have never been his connected. It doesn’t matter that Blaine can barely speak in full sentences on the best of days, or that Kurt has to go painstakingly slow. It doesn’t matter that Blaine’s is broken, that his skull is full of fault lines and screws. The only thing that matters is that nothing can ever pull them apart. Kurt won’t let it.

Blaine’s fist wraps in Kurt’s shirt, his body quivering, his whimpers desperate and needy and Kurt increases his speed ever so slightly, index finger reaching to stroke Blaine’s perineum and that’s all it takes. Blaine shudders with a moan and goes limp against him, Kurt stroking him softly through.

He rubs gentle circles on Blaine’s back as his breathing slows down to normal and Blaine stirs, looking up. Kurt feels his stomach drop at the tears that are still damp on Blaine’s cheek.

“Oh my god, did I hurt you?” Kurt asks in a panic. “Was it too much? Oh my god, I’m so sorry…”

Blaine’s lips on his swallow the rest of Kurt’s frantic apology and Kurt feels himself relaxing. When Blaine pulls away he’s smiling, pupils still blown as he leans back into his nest of pillows, pulling Kurt in with him.

“I love you,” Blaine’s words are barely above a whisper but it’s enough. Kurt kisses away a fresh tear and Blaine’s eyes are wide and honest.

“I feel so…” Blaine goes quiet and Kurt strokes Blaine’s cheek, waiting patiently. “So lucky.”

And that’s what does it. Kurt feels the hot prick of his own tears because Blaine…gentle, trusting, wonderful, beautiful Blaine. Despite everything he’s gone through, despite all the pain and fear and frustration of the past eleven months, the only word Blaine uses to describe himself is lucky.

“I’m lucky too,” Kurt whispers back, pulling Blaine in until his head rests against Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt buries his lips in Blaine’s hair.

“I have you.”