Is it still me that makes you sweat?  Am I who you think about in bed when the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?

Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off – Panic! At The Disco

                Rotator cuff Disease.  Apparently it is not a disease, not really, but it still scares her when she hears it.  The x-ray she finally managed to convince her GP to order came back.  Her shoulder is damaged.  The pain is real.  It is not just in her head.  Now she has to see a specialist.  A Mr. not a Dr.  She must remember this time. 

                He's young and Scottish and handsome and he takes her seriously as he shows her the bit of bone that looks like a serrated knife in her shoulder.  He injects a steroid into her shoulder and warns her that she will be in pain the next day.

He was not lying.  Her arm feels as if it was made of lead.  But she already has more movement in it and she can already feel that the joint itself is no longer painful.  She looks forward to a time where she is no longer in permanent pain.

                She can feel him, tugging at her mind but she tries to remain present.  Tries to stay there.  Tries to stay in the present.

Friends visit and it's a welcome distraction – they travel to National Trust properties and it is almost like it used to be.  The sun is strong but they do not burn; she bathes in it.

She joins some work friends on a 12 mile hike that was supposed to be 6 miles and finished by lunch.  She leads for most of the way, setting the pace and trying to carve a path through the stinging nettles, braving the pain and stamping them down so that the others will have an easier passage.  She gets back after 4pm having lasted on one bottle of water and the little she had for breakfast.  She has sunstroke and sleeps through to morning.

She fills her evenings with her husband, between the gym and watching ‘Hannibal' and ‘Carnivale'.

She writes.  She writes.

                Blaine takes a moment as his vision clears.  He's in a coffee shop.  With Kurt.  Kurt looks concerned as he runs a thumb over Blaine's knuckles.

                ‘Blaine?'

                ‘Oh, sorry.  I guess I…um…guess I didn't sleep too well last night.'  He feigns a yawn and shoots Kurt an apologetic look.  ‘So where were we?'

                ‘Look, Blaine.  I know talked last night, but I wanted to do this properly.'

                ‘Go on…'  Kurt looks nervous and Blaine shoots him what he hopes would pass as an encouraging look.

                ‘You said we needed to get to know each other again.  And I agree, don't get me wrong.  But I was wondering what your angle is here because you've always been pretty clear about wanting to get back together and suddenly you're all for taking it slow?'

                ‘Kurt, I love you.  You know that.  I just don't want to mess this up…'

                ‘OK.  I just had a flashback to the Lima Bean.'

Blaine glared playfully at Kurt, pursing his lips slightly.

                ‘You know what I mean.'

                ‘I really don't.  Look.  Go out to dinner with me tonight?  We'll go see a show.  Make a date of it.  See how things go?'

Blaine felt his heart rate increase at Kurt's suggestion.  This Kurt didn't want to play the friend card.  Kurt was asking him out on a date.

                ‘I'd really love that, Kurt.'

                ‘Good.  Now, drink up.  I want to see this place of yours.'

                ‘You mean you want to help me decorate it.'

                ‘There are more colours than navy, Blaine.'

                The next few weeks pass and Blaine and Kurt spend almost every day together between Kurt's work and Blaine's.  Blaine, in a repeat of the previous time he lived in New York but didn't (he's still not sure if that was real), goes to the venues he played at and manages to get some gig work as a solo artist.  In their time off together they do all the stereotypical tourist things – visit the New York Aquarium, go to the top of the Empire State Building at sun set, spend a day at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) alternately criticising and praising exhibits and each other's taste.  Kurt spends more and more time at Blaine's staying the night in the spare room more often than he spends the night in his own bed in the loft.  Santana points this out to them loudly whenever she sees them together.  It takes two more months for Kurt to make a move and when he does Blaine melts into him, giving himself over utterly.

They wake in Blaine's apartment as has become usual, but this time they both wake in the same bed.  Kurt wakes first, a little disoriented, to see Blaine's sleep tousled curls.  Kurt takes the time to look, really look at the man in front of him – his eyelashes long and dark fanning his cheekbones as he slumbers, his lips slightly swollen from the previous night's activities, the dark bruises he left on Blaine's neck and shoulder in the throes of passion.  Kurt grins, positively grins.

Blaine wakes to the feeling someone is watching him, starting, his heart hammering in his chest, and hits his head on the bedhead.  Kurt has to bite his knuckle to keep from laughing as Blaine orients himself and the previous night's activities come back to him.  Blaine grins.

                ‘Morning.'

                ‘Good morning,' Kurt laughs.

                ‘So…'

                ‘I don't remember you being this disoriented in the mornings.'

                ‘Give me a break.  It's only…'  He rolls to check the time on his alarm clock then groans.

                ‘10am.  Yes.'  Kurt laughs as Blaine pulls a face.

                ‘Why am I still so tired?'  He drapes an arm across his eyes as Kurt sits up and stretches.

                ‘Do you really want me to answer that one?'

                ‘I think I know the answer.'

                ‘Good.  I would have hoped that it was memorable.'  Kurt leans over and places a chaste kiss to Blaine's lips.  Blaine moves his arm from over his eyes and cups Kurt's cheek.  Kurt smiles. 

                ‘You are stunning.'

Kurt blushes slightly, lost for a moment in Blaine's sincerity before Blaine rolls them both in a mirror of the previous evening so that he is on top of Kurt.

                ‘What are you doing?'

                ‘I wanted to check something…'  Blaine lifts the covers off them both and sits back taking in Kurt's naked form below him.  Kurt rolls his eyes.

                ‘Everything to your liking?' 

Blaine growls and starts kissing every inch of skin he can see.  Kurt moans and lets Blaine worship his skin.  All worries, all thoughts evaporating.  His stomach rumbles loudly and Blaine grins wolfishly.

                ‘Hungry?'

                ‘Don't stop.'

                ‘There's plenty of time for more of that later.  Come on – I'll cook.'  He drags Kurt out of bed and into the kitchen and Kurt tries not to think about how they are both ridiculously naked and turned on and how oddly domestic and right the situation is.  ‘How do pancakes sound?'

Kurt can only nod.