CHAPTER 25

Kurt left the hospital after his fourth round of consolidation therapy on the last day of January, just a little over a year after being diagnosed.  He had been able to spend a quiet Christmas and New Year's at home with family before this last round, and had tentative plans to attend limited events at this year's Fashion Weeks, after missing both last February's and last September's events.  He was tremendously excited.  Blaine was horrified.  Kurt saw it as catching up on the fashion world and showing everyone that he was back, indeed had never truly left.  Blaine saw only opportunities for Kurt to become tired, run down, and sick.  He was terrified of people who might be ill being near Kurt. 

Kurt was ready to forget he was ever sick.  To appease Blaine, Kurt finally agreed to go to Dr. Miles for a blood test, and to stay home if his blood counts were not good.  It was the best appointment he could remember.  Despite his fear of needles, he willingly submitted to the test, silently admitting to himself that there were advantages to the central line (which had been removed before he left the hospital after his fourth round of consolidation chemo), which had enabled him to avoid needle sticks while he had it.  He triumphantly showed off his barely bruised arm to Blaine after the appointment.  They returned the next day for the results. 

Dr. Miles entered her office, seated herself behind her desk, and turned to them with a broad smile.  “Congratulations.  Your blood counts have recovered quite quickly, and I don't see any abnormal cells.  You're not quite up to full speed yet, so to speak, but I think it's okay for you to begin going out in public, as long as you're careful.  Let your body guide you.  Don't go out if you're tired or feel weak, run down, or ill.  Don't intentionally go near anyone you know is sick.  Avoid crowded places whenever possible, because you don't know who might be sick.  As long as you stick to those rules, I don't see any reason why you can't go to your events.”

Kurt was practically bouncing up and down when she delivered the news.  Blaine instantly began thinking about how to protect Kurt and keep him from overdoing things.  As they left the office, Kurt was bubbling over with plans.  “I have to call Jenna and have her book my flights.  And your show.  I haven't seen your show.  I want to see it before the original leads' contracts are up!”

“Calm down,” Blaine cautioned.  “First, have her book two seats on each flight, first class, side by side.  You aren't going anywhere without me.  And you will be by the window, not on the aisle where everyone will be walking right next to you.  And make sure Amanda and Jeremy both come, just like last year.  They'll be doing the bulk of the work, not you.  You get to be there, give a speech or two, be on a panel if they ask, but no parties, no dressing rooms, no stress.  And as for the show, it's so crowded.  I really don't want you to be out in the theater district at show time.  I just don't think it's a good idea.”

Kurt turned pleading eyes to Blaine, “But, I feel awful that I missed opening night.  And I've never missed one of your shows.  Please, Baby, one show, one time.  Please?”

Blaine sighed.  Kurt wasn't playing fair.  Blaine couldn't resist him, and he knew it, and was using that fact shamelessly.  “I'll see what I can figure out.”

* * *

That afternoon, Blaine came home after a few hours out and told Kurt to bundle up.  “Where are we going?” Kurt asked.

“It's a surprise,” Blaine informed him.

They went down to the car, which took them to Kurt's favorite Greek restaurant, which had grown accustomed to packing up meals for him while he was at the hospital.  The owner was thrilled to see him back again, and greeted him with open arms before leading them to a candlelit table in a tiny private alcove separated from the rest of the room by a heavy curtain.  Kurt still didn't have a great appetite, but did manage to eat a little pita, with tzaziki and hummus, avgolemono, and Greek salad.  He slowed down a bit once the entrees arrived, but Blaine was thrilled with what he'd managed so far, so he didn't push the matter.  After the meal, which had been quite early, even before the pre-theater crowd hit, they returned to the car. 

Carolyn eased the car through the crowded streets near the theaters, slowly making her way toward the Imperial Theater, where Blaine's show was still going strong.  Kurt turned to Blaine with wide eyes. 

“Really?”  He asked.  Blaine just smiled in response.  Carolyn finally eased to the curb by the stage door.  The door was opened, and Blaine ushered Kurt out of the car and through the door rapidly. 

They were so early that the actors were just beginning to arrive.  Kurt knew many of them, and he was greeted warmly by all who saw him.  Blaine shooed everyone away, telling them he wanted to get Kurt to their seats before the crowd arrived, and reminding them that they needed to get ready for the performance.  Kurt rolled his eyes.  Blaine led him upstairs to the balcony, then off to the side where the private boxes were.[1]   He took Kurt's hand, pulling him into the box which had the best view, given the position of the boxes.  Kurt followed Blaine into the box, then wrinkled his nose.  It smelled like the hospital:  antiseptic mingled with cleaning products. He sighed, then said, “You had the box cleaned, didn't you?”  It wasn't really a question as much as a statement.

“God only knows who's been in this box and what they might have had,” Blaine said by way of an answer.

“Dr. Miles said I can go out,” Kurt pointed out.

“She also said to avoid crowds.  This show is crowded.  The entire theater district is crowded.  We can't risk it.  I can't risk you,” Blaine insisted.

Kurt took a deep breath.  He was going to be okay, it was just a matter of getting Blaine to see that.  And what good was going through all that he had and surviving if he couldn't live?  “Sweetheart, do you remember when Ellie was little?  How tiny she was, and they told us not to go out with her until RSV[2] season was over?”  Blaine nodded.  Kurt continued, “Do you remember when they finally told us we could take her out?  How scared we were?”  Again Blaine nodded.  “But eventually, we did take her out.  Do you remember what happened when we finally started taking her places?”

“Nothing,” Blaine answered quietly.

“Exactly.  We were both so scared that something might happen to her, that she was too small, too weak, that she would catch something and we might lose her.  But nothing happened.  She was fine.  New York might never be the same, but Ellie's fine.”

“But this is different,” Blaine protested.

“No, Honey, it's not.  The doctor said I can go out.  I'll be okay.  I need to be able to do things.  I fought to live so I could live.  Do you understand?  I need to do this.  I need my life back.”  He leaned into Blaine and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to his lips. 

When he pulled back, Blaine gave a shaky nod and squeezed his hand, tears in his eyes.  He knew Kurt wanted to go back to the way things were, but he'd never forget how close he had come to losing him.  But he was going to have to try.  As much as he wanted to keep Kurt wrapped up safe and warm at home, he knew it wouldn't work.  Even if Kurt was willing to stay home and let Blaine protect him from everything, he would become bitter and resentful, and Blaine would lose him just as much as if the leukemia took him.  And so, frightening as it was, Blaine would try to protect him at least a little less.

“Good,” Kurt said as he pulled a small notebook and pencil from his coat pocket.  He never went anywhere without them, so that he could sketch if inspiration hit, or even if he was just bored.

“What are you working on?”  Blaine asked, happy to have an opportunity to change the subject.

“A wedding dress,” Kurt answered with a cat that ate the canary smile.

“For?”  Blaine was curious.  Wedding dresses were not part of KHA's normal lines.  Each KHA wedding dress ever designed was a unique, one of a kind, never to be duplicated creation, designed to flatter a specific woman.  Over the last thirty five years, there had been fewer than two dozen of them.

“Mary Beth,” he said simply.

“What?  Oh, my God!  When did she get engaged?  To Jason, right?”  Blaine pelted Kurt with questions.  It had taken Kurt and Santana nearly six months of scheming and plotting, but they had finally succeeded in getting the two together.

“Not yet, and yes, to Jason,” he said, not looking up.

Blaine laughed.  “She's not even engaged yet, and you're designing her dress?  Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?”

“Of course I am,” Kurt smiled back.

Kurt enjoyed the play, as he had enjoyed all of Blaine's shows.  He lingered in the box with Blaine until the crowd thinned, then headed backstage.  Kurt assumed they were just leaving through the stage door, the way they had entered.  He was shocked to see a large cake bearing the words “Welcome Back Kurt” framed by bottles of chilled champagne.  As he looked around, he saw not only the actors and stage crew he had expected, but a number of friends.  He stood there, stunned, while everyone applauded.  “Thank God you're back.  Keeping your husband in line is exhausting!”  Ben exclaimed, enveloping Kurt in a hug.  Kurt heard a loud pop, and a minute later a glass of champagne was pressed into one hand, a piece of cake into the other.  Everyone congratulated him on his recovery, but no one monopolized him for long.  After all too short a time, Blaine told everyone he needed to get Kurt home, and they said a quick goodbye before dashing to the car.  Although he wanted to be annoyed at Blaine for cutting the party short, Kurt had to admit he was getting tired.  In the back of the car, he lay down across the seat, resting his head in Blaine's lap, grasping his hand as he yawned.  He smiled up at his husband.  All in all, it had been a wonderful evening.

  * * *

The next morning Kurt began planning for the Fashion Weeks.  He had, with only a little more help than usual from his assistant designers, designed the lines to be featured, and he had planned his shows down to the last detail, as usual.  As it had not been certain he would be able to attend the Fashion Weeks, Amanda and Jeremy had already prepared to run the shows, as they had with the previous two.  At least for this set of Fashion Weeks, that would not change, especially since each would be presenting their own sub-line for the first time.  He was still not up to the work and stress of running his shows.  However, he had been asked to speak on two panels, give a speech, and was to make appearances at three other events at the New York Fashion Week as well as attending his own show, with similar schedules in London, Milan and Paris.  At Blaine's insistence, he was avoiding parties and attending shows other than his own.  However, that still left about two dozen outfits to plan for a month.  Two dozen outfits that would be seen by the entire fashion world.  It would take time and thought, and he couldn't wait to get started.

He was a little nervous that he hadn't been able to shop over the last year, but he was known for his quirky fashion sense that often combined vintage items with timeless pieces, so he felt relatively confident that the fact that the most recent thing he owned was from last year's collections would go unnoticed.  Having spent so much of the last year in either hospital gowns, pajamas, or loungewear like sweats or yoga pants, he was looking forward to dressing well, and for an audience.  What he wasn't prepared for was that nothing fit.  He had been losing weight to the point that his clothes were too loose prior to his diagnosis, and he had lost a great deal of weight since.  Nothing was going to work.

Blaine was at Ben's studio with Adam.  As usual, once he had one play up and running, he had begun work on another.  It had been going much more slowly this time, as so much of his attention and energy had been focused on Kurt.  However, he had most of the story fleshed out, and many of the songs written.  Adam would be directing this show on his own for the first time, and Ben would be choreographing it.  In theory, it would be their decision, not Blaine's, as to how things would go, but neither man wanted to shut Blaine out.  Since he began producing, he had never relinquished this much control over a show, and they were honored by his trust.  This was their first meeting to discuss the staging of the musical numbers, and Blaine expected to be gone most of the day.

Kurt didn't want to disturb Blaine.  He had spent so much time trying to convince Blaine not to worry about him, to convince him that he would be okay on his own.  But he needed help.  He knew if he went shopping, Blaine would panic and drag him back to the doctor to make sure he hadn't caught anything.  He couldn't order anything; it might not arrive in time for next week's New York show, and even if it did, there would be no time for alterations if it didn't fit properly.  And he wasn't even sure what size to order.  As a fashion icon, he couldn't be known to be using a personal shopper either; everyone had to know his decisions were his.  Suddenly, he realized the solution.  His office was full of trusted personnel who understood and appreciated his taste, and could be trusted to be discreet.  They could also alter garments on the spot.  His employees had been coming to him for the last year.  It was about time that, like Blaine, he returned to work, he thought with a smile.

Now the only problem was how to get there.  At one time, he might have thought about walking; he'd once been in great shape, and walked more as he danced less.  Now, however, that was out of the question.  The distance would kill him, and the streets were much too crowded.  The subway also presented the problem of crowds.  He could hail a cab, but if Blaine found out he would worry as much about who had been in the taxi as he would about the crowds.  There was only one way left.  Sighing, he picked up his phone and dialed the car service.

Everyone at the office was surprised and delighted to see him.  He cheerfully confirmed that yes, he was going to the Fashion Weeks, earning him a round of applause.  Although he was demanding, Kurt was not a tyrant and his employees loved him.  The announcement gave him the opportunity to present the problem.  Amanda spoke up first.  “Do you remember Mason?”

Kurt cringed.  The young man had shown tremendous talent, and Kurt had hired him as an intern a year and a half before.  He was also the intern Kurt had fired a little over a year ago, then ended up begging to come back.  Fortunately he had.  Kurt hadn't seen him since, although his most trusted employees gave him rave reviews.  He nodded.

“Well,” she continued, “As great a talent as he's shown in women's fashion, he has an even more pronounced sense of men's fashion.  Might I suggest that you work with him?”

Kurt drew in a deep breath, then let it out.  “Okay.  Let's see what he's got.  Have him meet me in my office.  He has this afternoon.  If it doesn't work out, I'll have to have someone else help me; I just don't have time to coach him along on this.”  With that, he turned and headed into his office.

A few minutes later a young man with coloring and a build remarkably similar to Kurt's knocked on the door.  He stepped inside as Kurt beckoned him in.  Nervously, he pulled a sketch pad from beneath his arm.  “Um, Amanda explained the problem.  I have a few ideas,” he said, opening the sketch pad. 

Kurt gasped, slowly turning the pages.  The designs were brilliant.  He might just have found his new favorite designer, right in his own office.  “These are really good.  I wish there was time . . . .”

“I, um, I've got some of them started.  I don't have too much time or money to work on my own designs, so I just do it when I get a little extra time, if I can afford the fabric.  I, uh, I sew a lot of my own things,” Mason said, blushing.

Patting his shoulder, Kurt said, “I sew too.  When I was young, I made a lot of my own clothes.  I couldn't afford much, so I bought a few designer pieces when I could manage the money, and fleshed out the rest of my wardrobe with a combination of vintage pieces I found cheap, things I made myself, and knockoffs.”

“Anyway,” Mason continued, growing bolder, “We're about the same height.  I could bring in the things I have started, and finish them here over the next couple of days, if some people from the office could help me.  I could also get a few things at this great vintage clothing store I know in the Village that would complement these designs.”

Kurt began to have hope.  He stood and called Jenna into the office.  “Give Mason a corporate credit card.  He also has full access to any materials or personnel that he needs over the next few days.  Whatever he needs, make sure he has it.”  Turning to Mason, he said, “Do you think you can get half a dozen ensembles ready for me to wear next week?  For the rest of what I need you can either work here and send things to me or you can travel with us and work there.”

“I can get it done,” Mason assured Kurt.  “It will probably be better if I'm with you to check fit and make any necessary alterations.  I know you can do it, but it's hard to check and correct fit on yourself – I know, I do it.  And while I know the dressers and other backstage staff could do it, I'd feel better if I did it myself, so I know it's done the way I want and fits perfectly.”  Kurt smiled.  The young man reminded him of himself:  a detail-oriented perfectionist with impeccable taste who found it hard to trust that anyone else would really get it right.  “Do you mind if I run home?  I can get the things and bring them back, so I can really get started tonight.”

“Let me call a car for you,” Kurt told him.  “It'll be faster.”

Mason thanked him and was gone, only to return within the hour.  As it turned out, he lived in a tiny walk-up flat not too far away from the office.  As he told Kurt, it might have been faster for him to literally run home, given Manhattan traffic, but getting the garments back would have been problematic. 

While he waited, Kurt lay down on the couch in his office to rest.  As much as he hated to admit it, he was still not strong, and he tired easily.  The stress of the day had just made it worse, and Blaine would be furious with him for doing so much.  When he returned, Mason was startled to find Kurt asleep on the couch.  He turned to Jenna with a lost expression on his face, unsure of what to do.

“Kurt?” She called, gently shaking his shoulder.  “Mason's back.”

Kurt sat up, shaking his head to clear it.  He waived the young man into his office.  Mason handed him several items and asked him to put them on.  He took them into the bathroom and changed, returning holding the pants in place with a dismayed look on his face.  “They're too big!”

Mason laughed.  “You're a lot thinner than I am right now.  My build is about what yours was when you hired me, so we'll have to take them in.  But they'd be loose no matter what – they aren't done.  On the other hand, that just makes them easier to alter.  Can you stand on the coffee table?”  He helped Kurt climb onto the table and went to work with a measuring tape, tailor's chalk and pins.  After a few minutes he helped Kurt down and handed him another set of clothes.  Kurt went into the bathroom and changed, and the process was repeated two more times. 

As they went through the process, Kurt continued to become more and more impressed with Mason's taste in fashion, fabric, and fit, not to mention his professionalism and generosity.  Kurt did not forget that Mason was giving away clothes he had designed and made for himself.  He vowed to find a way to repay him, beyond simply compensating him for the fabric.  It was with that in mind that he headed home, hoping to get a chance to nap before Blaine returned.

* * *

The next day, Blaine kissed him good morning and fixed him breakfast in bed before going to meet again with Adam and Ben.  Kurt promised he was going to stay home and rest, so that he wouldn't tire himself out before the Fashion Weeks started.  After Blaine left, Kurt got up; he had plans for today, plans he wasn't planning to discuss with Blaine.

The experience the day before, in which none of his clothes fit, had been a wake-up call.  Kurt not only wanted his life back, he wanted his body back.  Entering the closet, he shed his pajamas and looked at himself in the mirror with a critical eye.  He was too thin:  his muscles were wasted, his bones were prominent and stuck out.  He was bald; his hair had not yet grown out, and Dr. Miles told him it might take several months after the last session of chemo before it started to come back in.  Blushing, even though he was alone, he realized that all of his hair had fallen out:  he had no eyebrows, no hair on his chest, arms or legs, and well, a certain lack of hair made him feel that he looked nearly prepubescent.  This was not the way he saw himself, and he was determined to fix as much as he could.

Obviously, he couldn't do anything about his baldness or lack of body hair.  He had considered a wig or toupee, but had felt uncomfortable in them, and they didn't look right.  Sighing, he resigned himself to living with that until it grew back.  Blaine was right.  He could make hats fashionable.

His body, on the other hand, was a different matter.  That, he could change.  He dressed quickly and began to put his plan in operation.  First, he texted Ben:  Call me when you're alone.  Don't tell Blaine or Adam.  Next, he went upstairs to the gym.  He began by stretching.  His body protested.  He hadn't stretched in over a year.  He pushed on, moving on to yoga.  After completing just half of his usual workout, he was exhausted and drenched in sweat.  He forced himself to continue, lifting weights for a brief time.  Even the lightest weights were difficult for him.   He lay on the floor for several long minutes before getting up and walking on the treadmill; even walking slowly and with no elevation, he could manage less than fifteen minutes.  Finally heading downstairs to shower before lying down to nap, he began to acknowledge to himself that perhaps this would be more difficult than he thought.  But he was not giving up; he could, and would, do this.

He was woken up by his phone ringing on the nightstand next to him.  It was Ben.  “Kurt, how are you doing?”

“I'm fine, Ben, but I really need your help, and I don't want Blaine to know.”

He heard a sigh from the other end of the phone.  “Kurt, I'm not going to lie to Blaine.”

Kurt rushed to correct him.  “No, no, I'm not asking you to lie.  Just don't tell him about it.  It's just that he's so overprotective, he won't like what I'm doing, but I need to do it. I –“

“I'm really not comfortable keeping things from – “ Ben cut Kurt off, but was cut off in return.

“Just hear me out,” Kurt begged, “After you listen to me, if you don't want to help, you can walk away, just please don't tell Blaine.”

“Okay, I'm listening.” 

“I need to get my life back, start living, really living.  And that means I need my body back.  I need to dance again.  Not onstage, I'm too old for that, was too old even before I got sick.  But I need to know I can do it, I need to get my body back to looking the way it did, or at least as close as I can.”  Kurt explained.

Ben knew he wasn't getting the whole story, and he wasn't going to agree to help until he knew why this was important.  “I understand wanting to feel better, get back in shape, and go back to living the way you did before.  But this is something that takes time, and you sound like you're in a hurry.  You know better.  Why the rush?”

Kurt really didn't want to talk about it, but was certain Ben wasn't going to help him until he knew everything that was going on.  Softly he said, “I want Blaine to make love to me again.”

Ben's heart broke.  “Oh, Honey, just talk to him.  Tell him that.  He's so in love with you.”

Kurt was fighting not to cry, which was why he just wanted to talk about what he needed to do, not the reasons.  “I know he is.  But we haven't, um, done anything since I went into the hospital the first time, and that was more than a year ago.  And I don't want him to see me like this.”

“Kurt, Honey, he's been helping you bathe and dress for the last year.  He knows what you look like.”  Ben pointed out gently.

Kurt sighed.  “I know.  But we really haven't gone there in more than a year.  He's treating me like I'm going to break.  And looking in the mirror, I can't blame him.  I need for him to look at me and see the man he used to, not someone who's sick, fragile.  I just want him to make love to me without worrying about hurting me.”

Ben gave in.  “Okay, I'll help you.  But we do this my way.  You follow all my instructions, to the letter, all the time, or not only do I stop helping you, I tell Blaine.  Agreed?”

“Agreed.” 

“First, part of what you need to do is eat.  I've spent the last two days with Blaine, and he's still worried that you're not eating enough.  And from what I saw of you at the show the other night, he's right.  I'm not saying you have to stuff yourself, but I want you eating three meals a day, plus a couple of snacks.  And that doesn't mean two bites and you quit.  I know you're not hungry, Blaine told me you still don't have much of an appetite, but you still need to eat.  Do you understand?  You're never going to get your body back unless you eat.”

Sighing, Kurt said, “Yes, I understand.  I promise.  I'll eat.”

Ben continued, “The next thing is to not overdo it.  Blaine and Adam have some meetings this afternoon.  I have a break.  Come down to the studio.  We can work in the small studio in the back.  I'm going to start you off small, with things you can do at home or in your hotel room.  Stretches, simple poses, gentle movements to get from one to the other.  Slow and graceful.  Nothing too energetic.  You also have to tell me everything else you've been doing or thinking about doing with respect to this, so I can make sure you're not overdoing this.  It won't help you if you exhaust yourself and can't keep up.”

Kurt quickly agreed to all of Ben's terms.

That afternoon, Kurt took a car down to Ben's studio.  He slipped in while the receptionist was busy.  No one recognized him as he made his way to the back.  It was confession time.  He told Ben everything he had tried that morning, and how it had made him feel.  Ben hugged him, then laid out a plan, involving dance, light cardio other than dance, yoga, and a few light weights, in rotation.  He laid down the law:  no more trying to do everything at once.  In typical hyper-organized Ben fashion, after laying out the plan, he presented Kurt with a typed document detailing it.  He then went through a set of stretches and dance moves with Kurt, closely observing how Kurt moved and what gave him trouble.  He was definitely not as strong or as limber as he had been, but Ben had foreseen that, and the moves he had planned were designed to deal with the fact, gradually increasing his strength and flexibility.  Kurt thanked him profusely, then hurried away to make it home before Blaine discovered he was gone.  Leaving the studio, he felt better, just having an ally and a plan.

He was going to start living again.  And that meant making love to his husband.  He would take things slowly, but he would get there.

* * *

Two days after his impromptu appearance at the office, Kurt returned.  Mason had the promised garments, and Kurt was thrilled.  Mason had truly outdone himself.  Very few adjustments were necessary, and Mason had somehow managed to make the clothes look fitted without drawing attention to the fact that Kurt was still far beyond thin.  Mason had also managed to find vintage pieces and accessories that perfectly accented his designs.  “Because you're still so thin, I thought we'd try to accentuate your face,” he told Kurt.  “I'm using hats and scarves to draw the eye up, play up your cheek bones, and emphasize the blue in your eyes.”  Kurt was thrilled, and had finally figured out how to reward Mason.

It was just before lunchtime, and Kurt was trying very hard to comply with his agreement with Ben.  “Mason, would you like to go to lunch with me?  I have a few things I'd like to discuss with you.”  Flattered, Mason quickly agreed.

Blocking out thoughts of what Blaine would say, Kurt walked with Mason to a crowded restaurant specializing in salad a block away, where they were seated in the middle of the busy dining room.  After they were seated and ordered, Kurt was ready to begin.  “Mason, you know that KHA has never had a full line of men's clothing.  You're really good with women's clothes, but you're incredibly talented where men's clothes are concerned.  Why did you apply to work for me?”

“I've always admired your designs for women, and I loved your personal fashion sense.  I felt like I could learn as much, if not more, from you than from any other designer.  And I have.  I wish you'd been there every day, like you were at first, but I understand why you weren't.  But even though you weren't there all the time, I still feel like I've learned so much.”  Mason gushed.

“Would you like for me to give you a recommendation so that you can work for one of the houses that designs men's clothes?”  Kurt asked gently.

“Are – are you firing me?”  Mason asked brokenly.

“No.  I'm just asking if you really want to stay with KHA or if you'd like to go somewhere that is known for men's clothes.”  Kurt assured him.

“I, I'd like to stay with you.  If you'll let me.”  Mason answered.

“Good,” Kurt smiled.  “I would have let you go if you'd wanted, with a glowing recommendation.  But since you want to stay, what would you say to a promotion?  You'll officially be a junior designer, with a corresponding raise.”

Grinning, Mason replied, “I'd say yes!  I'd love that.”

“Great.  Now I have another proposition for you.  What would you think of designing KHA's first full line for men?  I design a few things for myself, and I put together ensembles for myself, and occasionally, for my husband, but I've never really even considered designing a full men's line.  My talent is for women's clothes, and I just don't have that much interest in designing for men.  I've never had a designer who worked for me who showed such a talent for men's clothes, so we've never really had a men's line.  But since you want to stay, it seems a shame to waste your skills.  We have so many designers who are great at women's clothes, but you're the only one who has the ability to design men's clothes that I would be proud to put a KHA label on.  What do you think?”

“I'd be honored,” Mason said.

“Perfect.  Obviously, getting me dressed for the Fashion Weeks is your first priority.  But do you think you can have a full fall/winter line prepared for the men's Fashion Weeks next winter?”  Kurt asked.

“Absolutely,” came the reply.

“Perfect,” Kurt said, beginning to eat the large salad that was placed before him.  “By the way, if anyone asks, you're my witness.  You're my proof that I ate lunch.”  Mason, not realizing Kurt was deadly serious, just laughed and began to eat his own meal.

* * *

Wearing Mason's designs, Kurt was the toast of New York's Fashion Week.  Keeping his promise to Blaine, he attended only his own show and the events at which he was scheduled to appear.  Knowing what he'd been through, no one felt snubbed by his failure to appear at other events, and although everyone seemed to want to be near him, they respected the fact that he was still somewhat vulnerable, and most gave him his space.  He used the extra time to sneak away to meet with Mason in preparation for the following weeks, preparing to be equally as successful at the other Fashion Weeks.

Although he was enjoying himself immensely, he had to admit that even though he stuck to his limited schedule, he was exhausted.  However, he faithfully stuck to Ben's schedule of dance and exercise, and ate, whether he felt like it or not, as promised.  He had a goal, and he would get there, no matter how tiring the process.

Everything continued smoothly, right up till the third day of the London show, when Kurt awoke with a headache and a sore throat, feeling stuffy and congested.  Blaine panicked.  He wanted to call an ambulance.  Kurt insisted it was nothing; however, given what had happened the last time he said that, he was unsurprised when Blaine was equally insistent that he see a doctor.  Kurt tried unsuccessfully to argue that he could just see the concierge doctor, but Blaine insisted that he go to the hospital.  He called downstairs, and the concierge arranged for a car to take them to a private hospital, where Kurt would be seen by an internist and an oncologist. 

At the hospital, a blood sample was taken, and then Kurt was examined. 

“He has leukemia,” Blaine informed the doctors.

“Had.  I had leukemia.  Had being the operative word.  I'm in remission.”  Kurt corrected.  He was thankful this examination didn't involve disrobing or painful tests, and was, in fact, limited to the waist up.  Once the exam was done, the doctor informed him that he had a head cold.  They waited until the initial blood test results were back.  The oncologist told them his blood sample was within normal bounds, and no abnormal cells were present; he saw no need for further testing.  Kurt was sent back to the hotel with a prescription for a decongestant and a suggestion that he drink hot tea with honey to soothe his throat, which was sore due to drainage. 

He spent the ride back to the hotel telling Blaine I told you so.  They argued over cancelling his appearances; Blaine lost.  They also argued over coffee as opposed to the recommended tea; this time Blaine prevailed.  Kurt was annoyed enough to insist on going to the events himself, leaving Blaine at the hotel.  On the way to his first event of the day, he called Amanda and told her to make sure he had a strong coffee awaiting him when he arrived.  There was definitely more than one way to skin a cat.

The remainder of London's Fashion Week was spent with an uncomfortable tension between Kurt and Blaine.  However, Kurt continued to work on his exercises, and to eat regardless of his lack of appetite.  The mere fact that he was eating was enough to make Blaine feel better, even if he didn't know why.  And as the symptoms of his cold gradually eased, so did the tension between the two men.  By the Milan show, things became easier between them.

Overall, the Fashion Weeks were incredibly successful.  The fashion world was abuzz with his triumphant return, discussing both his recovery and his stunning sense of style.  The orders from buyers were rolling in.  And he was slowly gaining weight, putting on muscle and beginning to look more like he had before he became ill.  Mason patiently made any necessary adjustments to his new wardrobe.  By the time they boarded the plane to fly home from Paris, Kurt was happy and relaxed, and Blaine was relieved that the Fashion Weeks were over without major incident. 

Reaching out to take Blaine's hand, Kurt brought it to his lips and kissed it.  He smiled at Blaine.  “I'm glad this is over and we're going home,” Blaine sighed.

Quirking an eyebrow at his husband, Kurt responded, “Mmmm.  I have plans.  And they're just beginning.”

“What?”

“You'll see.”

* * *

               As they entered the apartment, Kurt took Blaine by the hand and led him to their bedroom.  They were both tired and jetlagged, but Kurt didn't want to wait any longer.  As soon as they reached the bed, Kurt pulled Blaine down with him and began to undress him.  Stunned, Blaine lay next to him and let him do it.  Pulling Blaine's shirt off, Kurt sat up and swung over him, straddling his waist.  He leaned down to give him a slow, sweet kiss.  Then he moved down, kissing his jaw, his neck, and his collarbones, before moving on to his chest, kissing each nipple in turn, licking and then blowing on them, enjoying the shivers that ran through Blaine's body.  Blaine reached up and began to undress Kurt.  Their positions, combined with the fact that Kurt was unwilling to stop kissing and touching Blaine, even for a moment, made the removal of clothing difficult, and ultimately the difficulty resulted in them collapsed on the bed in a heap, giggling.  It broke the mood enough to let them talk.

“God, I want this.  I want you.  I've wanted it for so long,” Kurt breathed.

“Are you sure?”  Blaine asked.

“Yes, I'm sure.  I'm not a virgin.  It's not our first time.  I do know what I'm getting into; I know what I want and what I'm asking for.”  Kurt pointed out.

“I just really don't want to hurt you.”  Blaine said, clearly still scared.

“I know.  And I don't know if I'm ready for everything, not just yet,” Kurt said, remembering the pain involved as each round of chemotherapy had damaged his entire intestinal tract, from his mouth down.  “But I need to feel you touching me, kissing me, I need to touch you, kiss you, please.”

“Okay,” Blaine acquiesced, “But promise me that if anything hurts or is uncomfortable, anything at all, you'll tell me and I'll stop.”

“I promise.”  And with that, Blaine gently drew Kurt into his arms, kissing him and stroking, tenderly eliciting moans and gasps in a way that was possible only with years of loving, worshiping, the same person, the same body, from learning over time every secret, every spot, that made him feel good, loved, cherished.  As he did, Kurt returned the favor.  Eventually, they fell into an exhausted sleep, held in each other's arms.

A month and a half later, early one May morning, Blaine looked down on a naked Kurt, asleep in their bed.  His body was again littered with bruises, but Blaine knew exactly how each and every one had gotten there over the previous weekend; as always, he had been careful to leave no hickeys where they could be seen, so Kurt's arms, legs, and neck were unmarred, but his torso, well that was another story.  And they had both enjoyed every moment of it.  It had been a long, slow journey of exploration and rediscovery, of learning each other's bodies, minds, moods, and emotions all over again, but to both of them it had been so worth the time they took.  Kurt had finally felt brave enough to allow Blaine inside him again; Blaine had been scared of hurting him, but afterwards both wondered how they'd made it so long without making love that way.  Kurt, cold as always, shivered in his sleep despite the warmth of the spring morning; Blaine drew the covers back over him, hiding the perfect dancer's body he had worked so hard to regain, before sliding back down beside him to hold him while he slept.

* * *

Things settled into a new kind of normal.  Both men worked less, and focused on each other more.  They attended social events on occasion, and occasionally hosted small parties, but mostly they spent time with each other.  More often than not they stayed home.  Sometimes they took trips together, to small romantic inns, intimate hotels; they visited places they'd never been, and revisited places they'd gone before, taking the time to really see, experience, and enjoy them for the first time.  Blaine still worried, still wanted to protect Kurt, but forced himself to let Kurt live a normal life.  He learned not to panic at the occasional minor illness, and Kurt learned to take it easy and let Blaine be overprotective sometimes.  Kurt's hair eventually grew back, curly and grey as he had been warned, which he refused to take lying down; time was added to his routine to have his hair colored and touched up regularly, and to straighten it each day.  Kurt began to cook again.  Although he rarely had much of an appetite, he made sure he ate, which reassured Blaine.  They lingered over meals, talking and enjoying each other's company.  Kurt returned to dancing every day, as he had years previously; most days, Blaine joined him.  They spent evenings and weekends curled on the couch, watching old movies, laughing and snuggling.  Blaine never again complained when Kurt's cold feet were placed against his skin to warm up.  And long nights, and sometimes days, were spent in bed, making love, exploring each other as if for the first time, or simply holding each other, talking of their days, of hopes and dreams, or whispering words of passion or love.  They learned to make every moment count, because they were both acutely aware that their time might be far more limited than they had once thought.

[1] I have been to the Imperial Theater, along with several other Broadway theaters, but I don't remember if it is one of the ones with private boxes.  Absent knowing for sure, I just “planted” boxes there.  Such boxes used to be common, but are less so now, and are often either used for lights or equipment or as an extra part of the stage since the sight lines tend to not be the best.  If they are used for seating, they are often some of the last sold due to the less than stellar views, thus explaining how Blaine could obtain seats for a popular show on almost no notice.

[2] A respiratory virus that causes a mild cold in adults and otherwise healthy children, but can be fatal in premature babies and those with a compromised immune system.