"What can I getchya honey?" the pretty barrister asked in a sweet southern accent as he came up to the counter. But as her eyes raked his being, a spark of recognition flashed through her grey eyes.

"Where's your arm candy?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Kurt asked looking behind him to see if she was talking to somebody else, but he was the only one there.

"The short one," she continued, "with the nice smile? He looks at you like you're the only thing good in this world?" The girl was met with a blank stare. She sighed leaning against the counter, raking her memory for something more she could say. "What's his name, Blake? Blaire? I'm sorry I've never been good with names."

"Oh," Kurt said, some form of life showing itself again as understanding and surprise attacked his brain. "You mean Blaine?"

"Yes!" she said excitedly. "Blaine! I like him. Y'all are so cute together, I've never seen him looking so happy before."

"Umm..."

"Oh I'm sorry honey," the barrister said. "I'm overwhelming you aren't I? Shit, sorry I do that. Okay let me try this again like a normal person this time. Hi," she said holding out her hand. "My name is Stacey."

"Hi Stacey," Kurt said warily, giving her a slightly scared smile and a loose handshake. "My name is Kurt, Kurt Hummel."

"It's nice to properly make your acquaintance," Stacey replied, her southern drawl adding a lovely flow to her words. "May I take your order?"

"What's that you were saying about Blaine and I being cute?" Kurt asked ignoring her question in favour for his.

"I just meant as a couple y'all are adorable." At Kurt's suddenly red cheeks she hurried on. "I mean y'all are dating right? I just assumed because…and y'all are always look so happy, and god I'm so sorry I'll just—"

Kurt raised his hand pausing her ramblings. "It's okay," he said with happiness. "We are. Together I mean. I'm just slightly surprised that it was so obvious we were dating, and am incredibly surprised that you're not disgusted by it."

"Obvious? Ha! Sweetie you and him eye fuck each other every time you make eye contact, how could I not notice? You should be pregnant by now, honestly."
Kurt blushed bright red and his eyes flickered to the menu before looking back at Stacey.

"Well," he replied slowly. "I've definitely not heard the term 'eye fucking' before, but sure…"

"Huh," Stacey huffed. "You could have fooled me. You two are pros at it. It's fun to watch though"

"Which leads me to my next question," he said leaning gracefully against the counter. "You're not disgusted by this?"

Stacey looked at him, half in offense and half quizzical. She cocked her head slightly and shrugged. "Why should I be disgusted?"

"Oh I don't know," Kurt sighed dramatically. "Maybe because we're two guys and it's immoral to the church and God and the government and all that jazz."

The brown haired barrister shook head violently, her grey eyes suddenly ablaze with an unrecognizable emotion. "Why in the world would I ever think that? Love is love! All men are created equal, and in my books the measure of a man is in their capacity to love. If you are to hate another man for his ability to love, then you are no man at all. And God would not create a creature, in his own image nevertheless, and put it on this earth to be ridiculed and mocked. Hatred is the Devil's creation. So anyone who says god hates fags can suck my dick, and burn in hell."
Kurt raised his eyebrow at her profanity and the fierceness of her statement but nodded his head in approval. His eyes took in her appearance; long high ponytail, stormy grey eyes, creamy complexion, red lip gloss, and the tacky yellow barrister uniform.

"…And you're not a lesbian are you?"

Stacey rolled her eyes. "Do I have to be gay to believe in gay rights? No. I just have to be a good person.

Her steady gaze was met with watery eyes and a sad smile. "Wow," the pale boy breathed. "I wish a few more people who went to my school were like you."

"If anyone tries giving you a hard time," Stacey said her tone one hundred percent serious. "You just call me and I'll beat their asses down."

"Oh," Kurt said oddly touched at her offer. "I'm sure that won't be necess—"

"My dad's a cop," she said with the same intensity. "He'd cover the crime, I'd make it look like an accident, and I'd get myself an alibi."

Kurt just smiled, shaking his head at her strange adorableness. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

"Sweet," she said with a devilish smile. Kurt could almost picture her with thunder and lightening behind her while she did a maniacal laugh. "I haven't kicked anyone's ass in a long time…Anyway," she continued after a small lilt in the conversation. "You never did answer me, where is dapper boy?"

"Still asleep I bet," Kurt said with a shrug. "He's not much of an early riser."

"…It's ten thirty."

"And I'm sure he fell asleep five hours ago."

"Whoa," Stacey said in awe. "Wack sleeping schedule."

"Tell me about it," Kurt said with an eye roll. "So," Kurt paused and took a good look at the menu trying to decide what he was in the mood for. "Can I get an Americano please?"

Stacey gave him a weird look.

"What?"

"An Americano?" she asked. "Really?"

"What? I like the way I feel and sound when I order one, all European and such." The southern girl didn't even dignify that with a response, she just gave a dejected sigh.

"You were doing so well you know," she finally said. "Well nobody's perfect."

Kurt harrumphed at that but she ignored him.

"So I'm actually going to order you a non-fat latte with extra whipped cream and chocolate because I like you, and because an Americano? Really?"

"I—"

"Ssh," she interrupted. "Go and sit, your drink will be ready soon."

Knowing he'd be unable to change the southern girl's mind, and not really caring all too much, Kurt took out his wallet with a questioning look. "How much is this going to cost? With the extra whipped cream and the rest?"

"Oh it's on the house," Stacey said turning around to make the coffee.

"But—"

"My mother owns this place," Stacey said over her shoulder. "It's fine."

"You do realize a business needs money to stay afloat right?" Kurt asked his tone chock full of skepticism.

"And you do realize I told you to sit down like two minutes ago right?" she retorted. "I'll be with you in a sec, just go. I can't make it good with you hovering over me.

"Are you trying to drug me?" Kurt asked skeptically making Stacey laugh.

"And why on earth would I want to do that?"

"Because every girl wants a gay best friend," Kurt replied like it was the most obvious answer in the world. Stacey burst out into laughter until her eyes prickled with unshed tears.

"Oh my," she gasped out between her laboured breathing. "You're too funny."

"That's nice to hear," Kurt said with smug smile. "Few people appreciate my deadpan humour." He readjusted his leather satchel as he put the wallet away, reminding himself to leave a tip later. "Just for that I'll sit. But my latte better be delicious."

Stacey snorted. "Like I could make anything less."

.o...0...o.

Five minutes later Kurt had a steaming cup of latte sitting in front of him that was laden with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, as well as a plate with two chocolate chip cookies and a chocolate biscotti.

"Are you trying to fatten me up so that it's easy for you to drug me so that you can take me to your fortress of girlitude?" Kurt asked when Stacey laid all the food on the table.

"Chambers of girlitude Kurt?" Stacey asked with a wry grin. "You do know you can just say vagina right?" Kurt spluttered making Stacey laugh as she pulled up the chair opposite him and sat down. "You are so innocent," she continued once she had settled into the comfortable plush chair. "It is so darn adorable!"

Kurt's blush dissipated as he gave her an incredulous over the rim of the mug he held in his hands. "I am not innocent."

The barrister had the audacity to laugh at Kurt's statement. "Uh I'm sorry honey but yeah, you are." Kurt's gaze turned cold but Stacey just rolled her eyes. "Mature yes, but you're still as innocent as a newly born lamb. Honestly," she said with a wistful sigh. "I haven't seen such innocence in a long time."

"Then just how old are you?" Kurt asked sharply. For some reason he couldn't understand, her calling him innocent bothered him more than it should. Maybe it's because innocence to him means to still be young and untainted by the world, and while Kurt was young. The world had definitely tainted him. It had taken its dirty hands and rubbed them all over him in the form or verbal, emotional and physical bullying. The world had made its mark on him when it made him gay and then made him live in Bigot Central Ohio. The world had taken its claim on Kurt's innocence when it took his mother from him, so yeah, he was young. But he wasn't innocent, not anymore.

"Because for someone who looks so young you talk a big game," he continued. "What are you eighteen?"

"I'm twenty-two," she said still unaffected by Kurt's new hostile exterior. "But despite my 'young' age I know a lot, and I've seen a lot. Trust me." Something in her tone and in her eyes made Kurt not push it. He was still irritated but something flashed through her eyes when she said. And that something had looked dark and deep…a bit heavy for a first meet.

"Alright," Kurt said steering the conversation a bit. "But I'm still less innocent then you think I am."

"Oh yeah?" Stacey crossed her arms with a smirk, a mischievous light in her grey eyes.

"Yup." Kurt took a sip of his latte and almost crooned. It was so good. In his appreciation for the coffee, Kurt let his eyes flutter shut as the warmth spread through him. When he opened his eyes again Stacey was inches away from him. Her happy grey eyes were now laced with what looked like hunger or something else Kurt couldn't quite place; they were trained on his lips.

"Oh Kurt," she said he voice huskier. The southern accent dripped like liquid honey making a sensual and incredibly sexy tone. "You lips look so kissable." She drew out the last word, her heavy gaze flickering from his eyes back to his lips again. Slowly she licked her lips and Kurt stopped breathing.

"Uh-oh," she made a pout, her moist red lips begging to be kissed by any male…who was straight. "It looks like you have a whipped cream 'stache. Let me…get that for ya." Before Kurt could object, or do anything really, she moved her thumb to his top lip and slowly, with eye contact, wiped the cream off of his lip. She brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked the cream off and gave a super sexy smile, "mmm…delicious."

"Okay," Kurt said standing up harshly, half pushing her off of his lap which she had somehow gotten herself on to. "I am done. It's funny, I thought we'd already established that I was gay but huh, I guess not. Sorry to waste your time and goodbye."

Kurt made to turn but was stopped by Stacey's deep raucous laughter. Kurt looked back at her, one eyebrow raised. "Did I do something to amuse you?"

"I-It's just…" she tried to speak between her laughs but she was giggling too hard. She wrapped her arms around her sides, and laughed some more. "Woo!" she said after a good two minutes at least. "I'm sorry you're just too innocent, I couldn't not fuck with ya."

Kurt glared at her, heat rising in the pit of his stomach as he did his best to stay cool. "I'm sorry that me not wanting to be molested by a woman in public makes me innocent." He spat, unable to keep all of his perplexity down.

"Ah," Stacey said with a knowing smile. "So you want to be molested by a man?" She gave a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows as the accent made that sentence sound ten times dirtier than it already was.

"Well yes. I mean no! Gosh! No molestation for me."

"And that makes you innocent," Stacey replied with a shrug. "Look at you, all beet red at the thought of sex." Kurt all but growled as he sat back down, anger coursing through his veins. Curse his skin for revealing every single one of his emotions!

He rolled his eyes as he crossed legs. "Yes, because in this world molestation is the same thing as sex." The same haunted expression flickered across Stacey's face before it got replaced by amusement.

"Fine," she said surprisingly compliantly. "Then how far have you and Blaine gone?"

"We—" Kurt started, but he cut himself off at her curious expression. "Look," he said sitting straighter in his chair. "Innocence isn't just defined by sex. A many manner of things can take away someone's purity, okay? Bullying, family death, being forced to face the world on your own, all those things can force a soul to grow up. The do force a soul to grow up. Innocence is a luxury few can afford and unfortunately I am broke. Sex is just one side to things, and yes, maybe I am lacking experience on that side. But do believe me when I say they world has done its best to beat the innocence out of me."

"Well the world failed," Stacey replied simply.

Kurt's response was bitterer, "According to you."

"Huh," Stacey said after a pause. "That must be why you found Blaine." At Kurt's quizzical expression she continued with a happy grin. "The world couldn't beat the innocence out of you, so they decided to fuck it out of you instead!"

Kurt literally face palmed. "Oh my god," he groaned into his hand. "It's like talking to Puck and Santana. All right, change of topic." He made a hand movement saying she could choose.

Stacey leaned back in her chair getting comfortable.

"Okay…are you a top or a bottom?"

.o...0...o.

PRESENT DAY

"You need to stop moping, dude," Wes said to the lump under the thick duvet that was Blaine Anderson. "It's been two weeks."

The thick lump moved and let out a string of unintelligible consonants and guttural noises.

"Dude, I can't understand you. Why don't you stop being a mole person and come up for air."

The lump mumbled again.

"I'm sorry what?"

Finally Blaine's curly head popped out. "But I don't wanna," he pouted.

"Ah!" Wes said dramatically, "It lives!"

Blaine rolled his eyes at Wes's theatrics. "Is there a reason why you're here?"

"Oh wow rude," Wes said, taking a seat in Blaine's wheeled desk chair. "I was just coming to check up on my best friend. Make sure he wasn't dead or anything since he dropped off the face of the earth as soon as he got back from frickin' Italy. But instead I get attitude. Well excuse me for caring!"

Blaine rolled his eyes again but allowed a small smile to grace his face. "Hello, Wesley."

"Oh," the Asian boy said spinning in lazy circles. "We're on a full name basis now? Fine. Blaine Charlie Everett Theodore Anderson, you get your ass out of this bed right now or so help me god, I will call Kurt myself."

Blaine's eyes widened temporarily before calming, calling Wes's bluff. "You wouldn't."

Wes returned his stare, "You know I would." After a few seconds Blaine sighed heavily and uncurled from the delicious blanket of warmth that had been his cocoon for the past few days or weeks. He wasn't sure. Time passed differently in the cocoon.

A rough shudder passed through him as his shivered. "It's cold out here," he said with a hiss.

Wes snorted. "No Blaine, this is average room temperature," Blaine shot him a dirty look but Wes just ignored it in favour of throwing his arms dramatically in the air and leaning back against the chair back, pushing it as far as it would go. "Welcome to the new world where everything is average!" Blaine stood up showing that he was only wearing a pair of blue polka dots boxers and a black V-neck.

"And where everyone wears pants!" Wes continued shaking his head. "Seriously dude put on some pants."

"What if I don't want to?" Blaine asked sounding like a petulant child. "What if I want to just crawl back into my cocoon of warmth in my boxers and stay there forever because everything is nice there and nothing hurts."

Wes stared at Blaine, and Blaine stared back. A conversation flowed between them, and Blaine sighed. "Fine, fine you win. But only because my last sentence made me sound crazy."

You always sound crazy," Wes said with a chuckle. "Now go shower, you smell like a hobo. We can talk after." Blaine rolled his eyes (a feat he finds he does often in Wes's presence), before he shuffled to his private bathroom shutting the door behind him.

Wes sighed massaging his temples. This was going to be a long day. He could feel it.

.o...0...o.

"Really Kurt? Really?' Mercedes accused as she walked into his basement bedroom, her hands on her hips. "This is what you've become?" The shape under the Egyptian covers moved but no understandable noise came from it.

"Boy it has been two weeks enough is enough."

The shape moved again, but no distinguishable form of Kurt was a visible yet. Mercedes huffed getting fed up already. This fool was done with his moping and wallowing in his self-pity. Queen Mercedes is on the scene now, and she was going to get things back together again.

"You have got three seconds Kurt, three seconds." The lump moaned but Mercedes just held up three fingers. She dropped the first. "One." He showed no sign of moving.

"Two. I swear Kurt; if you make me count to three you will regret it." The lump didn't move. Mercedes sighed moving to the edge of his grand bed staring down at him.

"Two and a half….thr—"

"Fine!" Kurt yelled popping violently out of the colours. "I'm up."

"Boy…" Mercedes crooned when she took in his appearance. "What the hell have you been doing?" Kurt's pale skin was flushed and dry, a combination that had never happened before. His glasz eyes were red rimmed and his hair was everywhere.

Kurt just glared at her. "Well I was—"

"You were letting a man rule your life man. Come on white boy," she said reaching out her hand. "You need to get your pale butt in the shower and get cleaned up. I don't want to see you again until you are the Diva Kurt Hummel that I know and love."

Kurt rubbed his eyes yawning. "That may take a while."

"And I have all day…all night too." She continued looking back at her duffel bag that was placed by his door. "You need some obvious girl time. And Queen Mercedes is on the case. Now go shower. You reek."

Kurt got up slowly, rolling his eyes as he did so. "I do not reek Mercedes, I smell like lilacs and vanilla."

"Uh-uh boy," the fierce girl countered. "You smell like man sweat and depressed tears." Kurt shot her a glare but she just made the shooing motion with her hands.

"Go."

Kurt groaned but walked over to his bathroom, dramatically slamming the door shut when he entered. It was Mercedes' turn to roll her eyes. The boy was overdramatic sometimes but she loved him. And he needed some serious help. Kurt's skin, dry? In no universe did that ever happen. It was time to bring the boy out of the dumps, and if that meant throwing him and Blaine back together again, so be it. Luckily, she had a plan.

.o...0...o.

"Doesn't that feel so much better?" Wes inquired at the newly washed Mr. Anderson. "Your skin can breathe again." Blaine flipped him off as he rummaged through his closet for a clean pair of sweatpants.

"See," Wes said. "This is why I don't like mopey you. You get all mean, where does the dapper prince go? He was always so much fun."

Blaine found the sweatpants and slid them on having already put boxers on in his washroom. "If you don't like me so much," he asked Wes. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Because," the Asian boy replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You need to be cheered up."

"What I need," Blaine said sadly, sitting on the edge of his bed facing Wes, "is Kurt." It had been two weeks since they had visited the sycamore tree, and Blaine hadn't seen head or tails of Kurt. Blaine thought they had ended it on a good note, as friends even. Sitting up in the tree had been peaceful and nice; they'd talked about many different things though they did avoid the topic of them. Still, it was improvement and Blaine had honestly thought it would keep improving from there. But obviously not since the porcelain boy was so obviously avoiding him.

"What you need," Wes said, his dark brown eyes warm and comforting. "Is a reality check." Blaine looked hurt but Wes continued on. "Look, if you want things between you and Kurt to move forward, obviously you're going to have to make the first move."

"But I already did!" Blaine said falling back into his Downey bed. "I took him out for coffee, I took him to the sycamore tree, I—"

"Broke his heart and then disappeared for a year, returning looking sexier than ever."

Blaine looked livid. "Whose side are you on Wes? Because you sound just like him right now."

"I'm on happiness's side," Wes said in a calm and neutral tone not wanting to anger Blaine anymore. The short boy was hard to anger, but when he was raging he was just like his mother and it was scary as hell. "All I want is my Klaine back together. But obviously I'm the only one who realizes how hard this is going to be." Wes moved to sit on the bed next to Blaine, who had sat up during his exclamation. The dark haired boy avoided his gaze, but Wes wasn't offended by it.

"You need to look at it from Kurt's perspective too," Wes said softly. "You almost destroyed him that day."

"And I almost destroyed myself!" Blaine yelled, finally looking at Wes. His hazel eyes were bright with pain and tears of frustration. "Does nobody understand how fucking hard that was for me? But I had to do it. For his sake and for Burt's and his entire family, I had to break his heart."

Wes looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean for Burt's and his family's sake?"

Blaine looked away wiping harshly at the tears.

"Blaine," Wes continued, "What aren't you telling me?"

"There are two sides to every story, Wes," Blaine said quietly. "But I cannot let the world hear my side."

"It's a good thing I'm not the world then." Wes retorted. "What happened?"

Blaine sighed a heavy breath that felt like it was weighed down by the world. "I can't tell you." Wes shuffled closer to the crumbling boy, debating with himself whether to touch him or not.

"I'm your best friend, Blaine," he tried again. "You can tell me anything."

Blaine shook his head, his still wet curls flicking water onto Wes's face.

"I won't tell anyone if that's what you're worried about," Wes said grasping at straws here, trying to figure out how to make Blaine open up. He had never been this hard to crack. "I'm not going to go blabbing to Kurt if that's your scare."

"Of course you won't," Blaine said. "I do know that you can keep a secret."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do. I trust you."

"Oh, you trust me?" Wes asked cocking his head slightly. "Well you sure aren't acting like it."

"Why do care so much?" Blaine asked turning to Wes, an unreadable expression on his face. "Why can't you just accept what I have to say and leave it at that?"
Wes gave a grim smile. "Because I know the power of secrets, Blaine."

Blaine's expression didn't change and something in Wes hardened. "Do you remember these?" He asked removing the vast array of bracelets he wore on his left wrist. They slid off to uncover harsh pink and red lines on his skin. They were deep, and looked incredibly painful, and there were so many it physically hurt to look at. Each scar told a story of pain that was too much for a soul so young to bear.

"Do you remember when you found me, Blaine? When I was at the edge and you brought me back." Blaine nodded slowly, his vision blurring as he recalled that day. It was Wes's birthday and Blaine was going to surprise him by sneaking into his house with a home-made birthday cake, and then he was going to force the boy out with a fun night with his friends. It was common knowledge that for some reason, Wes hated his birthday. But had been scarred shitless when he walked in and found Wes covered in blood as he held a razor to his skin. The Asian boy was sobbing, and hadn't even noticed Blaine until the shorter boy and ripped the razor from his hand and thrown it out the window. There was so much blood.

"I—"

"You saved me that day," Wes said staring directly into Blaine's hazel eyes. "I was almost gone, I was so close. Do you remember what the hospital said?"

"One more minute and he would have been a dead man," both boys said together.
"I almost bled out," Wes nodded, at Blaine's unfocused eyes. "Because I was too afraid, ashamed, to the truth. I—I know what secrets can do to a person," Wes said his voice breaking slightly. "And that's why I care. You saved me, Blaine. So let me save you."

There was silence for three seconds before Wes found himself with a handful of sobbing Blaine.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said through broken sobs. "I am so, so sorry."

"Ssh," Wes said patting the boy's curly head. "It's okay, it will all be okay." Wes held Blaine as he shed thick hot tears onto his shoulder and chest. He held him as he cried for the things he couldn't say and for the things he wished he could. He held him as Blaine cried his story out onto Wes's canvas skin. He held him as the boy cried, because sometimes when a soul cries, all it needs is to be held.