Weddings were pretty much considered Kurt’s crack and Rachel Berry’s lavish and extremely overdone wedding was no exception; and although Kurt generally was in the camp of “more is less” the gaudy d�cor somehow worked when paired with the bride.

Kurt leaned into the warm touch of Blaine’s fingers kneading the muscles of his neck, drinking in the sight of the almost overcrowded ballroom. Kurt swore Blaine’s hands were magical; his ability to find the tensest parts and massage them until Kurt felt loose and a little boneless was staggering. He really needed to have Blaine give him a back massage, especially after the week he’d had. Just as Kurt dropped his head down to give his friend more access, the hand dropped from his neck.

“There were peacocks outside the bathroom,” Jude announced as he plopped into the Chiavari next to Kurt. “Peacocks, Kurt. Peacocks.”

Kurt smothered a laugh and threw a smile at his boyfriend.

“It’s Rachel Berry,” Kurt explained, and really, what other explanation was needed?

“Our wedding won’t be this garish,” Jude said and Blaine choked on the champagne he was drinking. Kurt clapped Blaine on the back before whirling round to Jude.

“Our wedding?” Kurt spluttered, an eyebrow shooting up his forehead. “And when exactly is that going to happen?”

“As soon as I knock you up,” Jude joked and tossed a wink at Blaine.

“Now you’re just being silly.” Kurt blushed at the realization that Jude had just shared their sexual preferences with an entire table of friends and acquaintances, Blaine included, and then his heart nearly stopped as the meaning behind his teasing boyfriend’s words hit his gut.

“I’ll make an honest man out of you yet, Kurt Hummel.” Jude replied with an easy smile.

“Are,” Kurt paused, taking a moment to consider the question he was about to ask. “Are you proposing?” Kurt could feel everyone at their table watching them, and if it weren’t for the thump of the upbeat music, Kurt would have sworn time had stopped.

“I’m pretty sure it’s bad form to propose at someone else’s wedding.” Jude pointed out and jumped up from his chair, grabbing Kurt’s hand. “Less talk, more dancing. C’mon princess, let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”

Kurt scrunched his nose at the nickname. He’d always hated it and Jude knew that, and Kurt had pointed out that Jude continuing to call him princess made him look like an asshole, but Jude never was one to care much about what other people thought of him. It was something Kurt usually loved about him, but that love did not extend to girlish pet names.

He let himself be pulled from his seat, following Jude onto the dance floor and fitting easily against Jude’s body, his boyfriend’s hands coming to rest on his hips as they swayed to the music.

Kurt tried to lose himself in the beat, in the heat of Jude’s embrace, but he couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts swirling through his mind, mixing to a near dizzying effect with the three glasses he’d had of champagne.

Marriage? Of course he’d considered it. After five years together, how could he not? Plus, living in New York actually offered that as a possibility. A choice.

When he’d been younger and daydreamed about the strong, warm hands of a teenage crush wrapped tight around him, whispering sweet nothings to him as he kissed away Kurt’s fears, marriage seemed far off. So closed off, and not even an option, merely a fantasy. Granted, it was a fantasy he did allow himself to indulge in, imagining those bright, hazel eyes gazing at him with adoration in front of all their friends and family, proving their love. Proving that their love was just as valid as anyone else’s and just as worthy of attention.

Now that he was older, Kurt had thought about marriage, now that it was an option, and wondered if it was an option he wanted to choose. Of course Kurt wanted a wedding, how could he not? But the word marriage left a sour taste in his mouth. In a world rampant with divorce, it seemed as though the seal of matrimony was more a seal of death to a relationship than anything else. Expectations changed at that level, and Kurt couldn’t help feeling as though if he did get married, he might end up compromising more of himself to his partner beacause of it.

It seemed like more of a cage than Dalton ever had and he thought Jude felt the same way.

Jude who was so strong and so beautiful and challenged Kurt in the best way, but was also stubborn and closed off, and too free-spirited for Kurt to handle sometimes. It had taken months of tense conversations to convince Jude that moving in together wouldn’t be stifling, and if it ever got to be too much, they always had friends to fall back on, to step away from the situation for a short time and get a clear head.

Kurt had spent more than a few nights curled along the far edge of Blaine’s bed as they talked through whatever stupid fight he’d had with Jude. He was a good voice of reason, even though it hurt sometimes to know how well Blaine was able to soothe him and wondered how that would have affected their relationship if they’d ever been given the chance. Not all the fights were stupid, more often than not, they were entirely warranted and sometimes Kurt just needed to get away. Get away from empty bottles and the acrid scent of alcohol, heavy on Jude’s breath.

He shook himself a little, pushing the dark thoughts away, instead letting images of green silk and dark, purple calla lilies flit across his mind, Kurt let his dreams carry him back to the reality of the hot press of Jude’s fingers sliding to the small of his back, and wondered how he might feel on a night not unlike tonight (though with far better d�cor), but instead of feeling his boyfriend move against him, feeling his husband dancing with him, and knowing that they belonged to one another.

He rested his head against Jude’s toned chest, glancing up at the sharp line of his boyfriend’s jaw, strong cheekbones, and green eyes, hidden behind closed eyelids. Kurt sighed, drinking in the sight of Jude’s eyelashes splayed along barely freckled skin and swayed along to the music.

This man wanted to marry him.

A little more than overwhelmed, Kurt leaned up to kiss Jude, the familiar shape of his lips was reassuring, and Kurt couldn’t help tracing his tongue along them, dipping between them as they opened up. Their swaying stopped as Jude sucked, slick and hot around Kurt’s tongue and Kurt moaned into the pressure as Jude’s hands dropped lower, settling over Kurt’s ass, just holding him there.

Tonight was a good night. Jude hadn’t touched any champagne beyond the traces he had licked off Kurt’s tongue. Kurt clung to Jude’s body, sliding his palms over chiselled shoulders, relishing in the smooth, hard muscle under Jude’s jacket.

The beat shifted into a nameless jazzy Latin number and Jude's lips were torn away from Kurt's as a bright-red manicured hand pulled Jude's arm back.

"Sorry Hummel, I need to steal your man for this song," Santana drawled and Kurt shivered at the hot-cool air of the dance floor that washed over his front as Jude's arms left him to circle around Santana. It was only momentary pause before another warm body slid into his arms, and Kurt grinned as Blaine's hands wound around him and shifted him into tango mode.

A few feet away, Jude twirled Santana around, leading her in a heated dance and several people around them were already slowing to a standstill to watch the couple move around the floor. Blaine gripped a little harder at Kurt's lower back and whispered right into Kurt's ear.

"They’ve got nothing on us. Shall we?" And with that they were off, Blaine leading the way across the floor with gyrating hips, dips, and turns that left Kurt breathless and impressed with the improvement of Blaine's skill. Santana was missing out, but Kurt couldn't help feeling a little grateful that he got to reap the rewards of Blaine's extracurricular training.

Kurt grinned into Blaine's shoulder when he pulled Kurt up from a particularly low dip, pressing their bodies flush together and Kurt lost himself to the music and the heat of Blaine's body moving his, twirling him around the floor, pushing and pulling, tearing Kurt apart and putting him right back together. Amidst all the twirling, he was barely able to look at his boyfriend across the floor, but stopped a little short as he saw the way Jude's hands roved over Santana's sides.

He knew it was just a dance, but he couldn't help the wave of jealousy that rolled over him, like a punch to the gut, and before he really knew what he was doing, he'd taken control of the steps, his hands fitting into the sweaty dip of Blaine's lower back, resting, just barely over the swell of skin leading to the fleshy globe of his friend's ass.

There was a shift to his shoulders, his hands slid hot, and sweaty against Blaine's and suddenly the few inches of respectful air that had existed between them disappeared as their bodies moved together, hips colliding, and he pushed. Blaine went back with the barest exhale of breath and followed Kurt's every move. Kurt couldn't help relishing in the way Blaine's body listened to him, swaying with the music, rocking with Kurt's hips until they were twirling across the floor, hands gripping harder than they should and suddenly the attention that had been on Jude and Santana was all on Kurt and Blaine as they moved effortlessly together, eyes locked in the heated stare of a dance that neither of them really knew, but they knew was in each other.

The song came to a close and Blaine stopped, still in Kurt's arms, inches away from doing something far more dangerous than dancing. Applause split through the air and they shook themselves loose of the moment. Kurt confused at the loss that went more than skin deep as the heat of Blaine's body slipped away, back to that respectful distance, but hands not leaving him, eyes dipping to Kurt's shoulder and refusing to meet his gaze.

Moments later, the familiar opening notes of a song long forgotten filtered across the floor from the band, a softer, slower version, and Kurt couldn't help smiling down at Blaine. Blaine pulled Kurt closer and laid his head on Kurt's shoulder, swaying them to the beat, all the awkwardness gone.

Dancing with Blaine had always comforted Kurt. Having that extra inch or two on Blaine was always a little thrilling, like dancing with a girl, but without the boobs getting in the way, and Blaine was always happy to hold Kurt close, their bodies fitting together as they moved to whatever beat.

Kurt remembered a time when this song and Blaine’s closeness would have made his heart swell and race, thumping so hard he could swear Blaine could feel it, but now, now it was just comfortable, soothing to have Blaine’s warm hand, wrapped around his own as their bodies moved across the floor.

Kurt sighed a little as Blaine dropped his head to Kurt’s shoulder, and he couldn’t help tilting his head down to rest his temple against Blaine’s.

“We can dance until we die,” Blaine sang just loud enough for Kurt to hear, his voice warm and smooth as a summer’s day, “You and I, we’ll be young forever.” And perhaps it was Kurt’s imagination that made him feel Blaine’s grip around him tighten ever so slightly, but the shiver that washed over him as Blaine whisper sang, hot breath ghosting over Kurt’s ear, most certainly was not.

Two days later, and Kurt still flushed hot, straight down his neck each time he remembered Blaine’s hand on the small of his back, his silky voice bringing him back to his sixteen year-old self; so enthralled by the charming stranger who was so unafraid to take his hand.

He would shake himself of it each time, usually daydreaming as he created yet another, flawless grande non-fat, no foam, latte with two extra shots and precisely one and a quarter pumps of vanilla. It was an art, and while making fancy coffee was not what he would like to be doing with his life, it was a job and he had to pay off student loans. Kurt was grateful though, that he had been fortunate enough to fall for someone with a trust fund that kept him from wasting away living on the coffee he made in a cramped apartment in Brooklyn.

Jude often insisted that Kurt didn’t need to work. Jude was more than happy to cover any and all of Kurt’s expenses and often voiced that if he didn’t work, he could devote all of his attention to auditioning, but if there was anything Kurt was, it was independent. Even as he enjoyed their decently sized one-bedroom in the village, he couldn’t help feeling guilty that his meager caf� wages wouldn’t even strike a dent into their actual expenses, a thought that made Kurt claw at the Egyptian cotton sheets in the middle of the night and wonder if he was truly making it in New York or if he was just going to turn into a Manhattan househusband. A kept man.

Even the term made Kurt shudder. It wasn’t for him.

While he might not always care for the unevenness of their financial situation, Kurt did love Jude, in spite of...everything. They’d been through a lot and right now they were stronger for it. So long as Jude kept it that way.

He went back to that night, Jude’s hands resting on his ass as he leaned against his chest, letting him lead them into oblivion, but as the sweet, soft song kept playing in his head, the height was lost until it was him and Blaine, dancing together in an endless loop.

This time, when Kurt came back from his reverie, it was to his boyfriend’s voice, and he couldn’t help the guilty blush as he suppressed his thoughts.

“Whatcha thinking about, beauty?” Jude asked his fingers stroking along the back of Kurt’s hand on top of the dinner table.

“Dancing.” Kurt managed, and that much was true, though he wouldn’t admit that Jude wasn’t his partner. Jude clearly thought he was, by the way his lips quirked up and split into a wide smile.

“The wedding, again?” Jude asked and Kurt only nodded, not trusting himself to give Jude a proper response. “Well, that’s appropriate.”

Kurt’s gaze shifted from their hands, to Jude’s gazing at him from across their table.

“Kurt, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kurt replied, brushing his fingers over Jude’s.

“I just, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” Jude fished a black box from his pants, opening it to reveal a simple silver band, set with five diamonds.

“Oh my god.”

“Kurt?” Jude asked and Kurt tore his eyes from the ring.

“Yes?”

“Yes, as in...” Jude trailed off.

“No, I mean, not no.”

“So, yes?” Jude asked, hopeful and more desperate than Kurt’s ever heard him outside of the bedroom.

“I don’t know.” Kurt slumped against his chair at the same time as Jude. Wasn’t this supposed to be the easy part? When you’re in love with someone and that person asks you to marry them, shouldn’t the answer always be yes?

“Do you want to break up?”

“What? No. I just. It’s so...” Final. “Big.”

“Of course it is, it’s forever, and I want that with you. Don’t you want that with me?”

Kurt’s moment of hesitation was all it took for Jude to snap the box closed, leaving it on the table as he pushed away.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out?”

“Out. Out to leave you here with your thoughts so you can decide if you want forever with me or if you want to move out.”

Jude brushed past him and Kurt flinched as the front door slammed against its frame and he couldn’t take his eyes off the little box.

Well, fuck.

Kurt tore his eyes from the ring box, and was soon pressing his phone to his ear, breathing a sigh of relief as the familiar voice picked up on the other side.

“Hey Kurt, what’s up?” Blaine asked and Kurt could hear the running water in the background. He could almost see Blaine in his dingy little apartment, button up rolled past his elbows as he washed the dishes from whatever he and Santana had eaten that night.

“Jude proposed.” The water stopped, but Blaine didn’t say anything. “Blaine? You there?”

“You’re engaged?”

“No, not exactly,” Kurt admitted and wondered briefly if he hadn’t imagined the sigh that spilled over from Blaine’s end of the line.

“So you broke up?” Blaine asked and Kurt huffed.

“No. He didn’t even give me a chance to really think it through before he stormed out and left me to think about whether or not I wanted to spend forever with him. Why does it have to be forever or not at all? Do I have to get married to want to spend my life with someone?”

Twenty minutes later, Blaine hung up the phone, dishes long forgotten, and threw himself down on the couch.

Santana padded out of her room poking his side with her foot, nudging him aside until he moved far enough over for her to settle down next to him. They lay like that for a few minutes, just looking at each other.

“He’s engaged?”

“Not yet.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that Jude’s an idiot, but Kurt’s in love with him. He won’t say no.”

Santana pulled him down, till his ear was right against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart while she carded her fingers through his loose curls.

“I’m sorry.” She leaned down a pressed a kiss to the top of his head. It was more tender than she’d ever been with him and he’d never been more grateful.

Married. Kurt was getting married. To Jude.

Blaine twisted on his side, all his breath leaving him at once, and he clutched Santana close to him. He should be happy. Kurt was his best friend and he was getting married to the man he loved.

He was happy. Really.

Except that he wasn’t, not even a little bit. He needed, he needed something...

Something to tell him this was real and that his dream of Kurt dumping Jude’s ass was never going to happen. Kurt was never going to say “I love you” to Blaine again and mean it the way he had the night Blaine had fucked everything up. Before Blaine had lost Kurt.

“Okay,” Santana barked and pushed Blaine back. “We are going to Nouveau and we will get gloriously smashed and you are going to find some pretty little twink to fuck through the mattress and then tomorrow we’ll drink coffee and you are going to stop whining and start being Kurt’s best friend who is not in love with him.”

Blaine didn’t budge from the couch, though he couldn’t deny that finding someone to fuck his troubles away into certainly sounded appealing. Especially if they had soft, dark hair, pale, flawless skin, and pretty blue eyes.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The house mix bumped and thumped and thrummed to the beat of Blaine’s heart, hips swiveling and grinding into the ass of a pretty brunette he’d found at the bar not long before.

The music rushed through his veins and he couldn’t help dropping his head to the other man’s shoulder, Ethan, he thought, and licking up a salty trail of sweat from the man’s neck to his ear. Ethan turned his head to meet Blaine’s mouth head on, sucking Blaine’s tongue between his lips and moving Blaine’s hands from his hips, guiding them down.

God, but this man was hot and hard and grinding oh so delicious and hot against him.

And then they were face to face and the dance floor disappeared as Ethan herded him against a dark wall, the concrete so much cooler that the hot press of bodies around them.

Ethan wormed himself between Blaine’s legs, pinning him to the wall with his hips, their mouths still fused together. Ethan’s hands on him were hot and searching. Curious and soothing and pressing, always moving, roving over every inch of Blaine’s body.

In his mind, it wasn’t Ethan’s hands that were on him, but delicate, pianist fingers, nimble and smart and touching Blaine in all the right places. A loud moan bubbled out of Blaine’s throat, straight into Ethan’s mouth and he dropped his head against the wall as Ethan’s mouth moved down, his hips canting against Blaine in a delicious rhythm that he never wanted to stop.

Hard. Fuck he was so hard and this man, this fantasy Kurt and his mouth was so good, but not nearly the same. Not nearly good as it could be, and then he was right back there, in that room. Kurt, innocent and scared, pressing him into the bed, their hard cocks rubbing together. He remembered Kurt’s eyes, dark and wide and wild with lust and love and everything Blaine wished he could see there again. Every day. Every fucking day.

Blaine went stiff under Ethan’s fingers, his back arching off the wall and he was coming harder than he had in a long while. It only took a few more seconds of Ethan’s frantic rutting before he lost it against Blaine.

Ethan rested his forehead against Blaine, dragging quick, shallow breaths of the too hot air surrounding them.

“That was hot. We should do that again sometime,” Ethan suggested and Blaine could only nod mutely before Ethan pressed a quick, wet kiss to Blaine’s open mouth and then he was gone.

Blaine made his way to the bathroom, acutely aware of the stickiness in his pants, grateful, for once, that the black lights weren’t on.

The music pressed around him and Blaine felt as though he were diving underwater as he ambled into the bathroom.

The telltale smack, smack, smack of skin on skin contact greeted him as he made his way around the corner. It wasn’t an entirely uncommon thing to walk in on people having sex in the bathroom, particularly not here, but when Blaine did finally make the corner he stopped dead in his tracks.

Pressed face-first against the far wall was Jude, drunk and dopey as he clung to the tiles while another guy rammed his cock in and out of Jude’s ass.

That guy was not Kurt Hummel.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Blaine tore across the room and ripped the guy away from Jude.

“Dude, what the fuck?” The guy asked, shoving Blaine back and trying to re-position himself at Jude’s entrance. Jude, for his part was so far gone that he didn’t even seem to see Blaine and just let out a needy moan as the guy’s cock teased his ass.

Blaine jumped back in, pushing the guy away.

“Leave him the fuck alone.”

“What’s it to you pretty boy? He your boyfriend?”

“No, but he’s practically my best friend’s fianc�, so if you’d like to live, I suggest you leave or I’ll kill you along with him.”

The guy at least had the decency to shove his cock back in his jeans before turning heel and practically running from the room. Blaine turned back to Jude, who was slumped on the floor, pants around his ankles, eyes closed.

Blaine rolled him onto his back, shaking him.

“Jude! Jude, wake up!” Blaine slapped him, nothing. “Wake up, you stupid fucking prick!”

Nothing.

He had no idea how he made his way out of the bathroom, but the next moment he knew he was tugging Santana away from another girl, and only the look on Blaine’s face kept her from protesting.

“What the fuck happened in here?” Santana demanded as Blaine led her into the bathroom.

“Came in, some dude was fucking him, but he’s passed out. He’s been drinking and I think he’s been drugged. Help me get him to the hospital.” Between the two of them it didn’t take long to get Jude’s pants back up and to carry him out the front door, sliding him into a cab.

“Do you want me to stay?” Santana asked as the cab driver raced to the hospital.

“No, could you go home and--”

“I’ll get your room ready.” They shared a look over Jude’s slumped body. “How long has it been?”

“Six months.”

“Think he’ll leave him this time?”

“He proposed.”

“That shouldn’t matter.”

“But it will,” Blaine said, bitterness seeping through his voice, and he had to fight the urge to smash Jude’s stupid head into the cab’s partition. God he hated this.

It took Kurt much longer than usual to fall asleep and when he did, he dreamt of waltzing around on a cloudy dreamscape. He couldn’t tell who he was dancing with, but they had warm hands and they spun him around, ever around.

“I need to stop.” Kurt protested as he swung around in another wide turn that left him breathless and light-headed. “I’m getting dizzy.”

The man didn’t stop, just spun him faster, a light laugh reaching his ears.

“Please, I need to stop.” He tried to pull away, but the man gripped him tighter and he couldn’t stop, just kept spinning, spinning, spinning.

Another figure appeared off to the side and Kurt called out to him.

“Jude, help me!”

But Jude just stood there, arms folded over his chest.

“Why didn’t you say yes?” Jude asked and Kurt had to whip his head around to keep watching him as the stranger kept spinning him. “Don’t you want forever with me?”

And then the stranger turned into Jude.

“We could stay like this forever, if you just say yes.”

“Please, stop spinning me.”

“Just say yes.”

They were spinning fast, too fast, and Jude’s hands were slipping from his until he stumbled back and fell.

Kurt woke from his dream with a start, reaching out to grab something, halfway through a shout. Heart racing, he turned his head to make sure he hadn’t woken Jude, but found his side of the bed empty, untouched.

Kurt padded into the living room, still a little shaky on his feet and still feeling just as dizzy as he had in the dream, but Jude wasn’t there either. He grabbed his cell phone from the side table, squinting as the bright lights blared 2:23 AM at him.

No missed calls.

He dialed Jude.

“Hey it’s Jude, I’m not here right now, leave me a message after the--” BEEP.

“It’s me. It’s two thirty, where are you?” Kurt hit the end call button, set his phone back on the table and wandered into the kitchen.

The box was still sitting there. Mocking him as he filled a glass with water and leaned against the counter.

Kurt settled back at the table, thoughts of Jude and rings, and marriage rushing through his head, not helping the mild wave of nausea as he remembered his dream, spinning, spinning, spinning.

What did it even mean?

Why didn’t he say yes?

He flipped the box open, taking out the ring and sliding the cool, metal band between his fingers. It was a beautiful ring, tasteful, and not overdone. Rather perfect really. So why hadn’t he said yes?

Was it just the guilt of knowing that moments before he’d been thinking about someone else’s hands on him? Was there some part of him that was still in love with Blaine, or was it Jude?

Five years and they’d certainly faced their fair share of problems. With Jude in an out of treatment, they’d probably only spent about four and a quarter of those years actually together, but they’d made it through all of that and they still loved each other.

He tried to imagine how it would be, on their wedding day, Jude’s shining eyes gazing down at him from under tear-stained lashes, but Jude didn’t cry. Not really, not ever.

But what about the rest of it? Everything after ‘I do’, what happened then?

That was the great mystery though, wasn’t it, and wasn’t he supposed to take chances on love?

He looked at the ring one last time before sliding it over his finger. It fit like it was made for him and Kurt wouldn’t be surprised if Jude had taken Kurt’s ring measurements while he was sleeping. The thought alone made him smile.

Engaged.

He was engaged.

The thought didn’t get to resonate long before his phone rang. He rushed back into the living room, praying, hoping it was Jude and his heart jumped a little as he saw a picture of a curly-headed young man with a glob of ice cream on his nose, face scrunched up in an expression that was more adorable than it should have been.

Normally, he would be happy to see Blaine’s picture show up on his caller id, but whenever he called after 1am, it was never good news. He just hoped Blaine hadn’t gotten too drunk and gone home with a random guy again, only to wake up in the middle of the night, not really knowing where he was and needing Kurt to get him.

More than that, he hoped, he hoped against all hopes that it wasn’t about Jude.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he accepted the call.

“Kurt,” Blaine’s voice was tired and wrecked, but not drunk, which only meant...

“Which hospital?”

“St. Luke’s.”

“I’m leaving now.” Kurt didn’t even change out of his pajamas, just grabbed his wallet and keys, slipped on a pair of shoes and ran out of the door.

Blaine appeared to be sleeping, sprawled in a chair across the room from the bed, his head tipped back along the top of the chair, mouth hanging open. What looked like a fresh hickey shone low on Blaine’s throat, barely above the cut of his tight, dark shirt. Kurt took in his mussed hair and slightly disheveled appearance; he’d clearly been at the club.

He turned his gaze on Jude; lying prone underneath the stark, white hospital sheets. A bag of fluid ran to an IV and Jude shifted in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing.

“He was drunk.” Blaine’s voice, though barely above a whisper, made Kurt jump and he turned back to his friend. “They found ecstasy in his system. He’s lucky to be alive, but he’ll make it through.”

“What happened?” Kurt couldn’t help noticing the way Blaine looked away from him then, seemingly unable to meet Kurt’s eyes. “Did he get in a fight?”

Kurt whipped his head back, he didn’t think there were any bruises and there didn’t seem to be any bandages, but…

“No, he wasn’t in a fight. I…Kurt. He…” Blaine pulled himself from the chair, crossing the room to hold Kurt’s hands in his and Kurt knew when Blaine felt the ring, cold metal against his hand. Blaine froze, turning Kurt’s hand in his to look at the ring.

Kurt drew his hand back, not meeting Blaine’s gaze. He wasn’t sure why he felt slightly ashamed for the ring, perhaps it wasn’t the ring, but how he felt about the man standing before him. They said you never truly got over your first love, and if he was being honest, he hadn’t. Not when he and Jude had first started dating, but then…it all sort of fell away. Blaine could still make him feel things no one else could, but, but he loved Jude.

“You’re—“

“Yeah.”

“Kurt.”

And Kurt had to look up at that because Blaine never used that voice, low and sad, like he had to tell Kurt he’d killed his puppy.

“I, I was at a bar with Santana and I found him in the bathroom,” Blaine paused, taking a deep breath, “he wasn’t alone.”

He must’ve heard Blaine wrong. Not alone, as in…

“From what I could tell…you should have him get tested.”

No. No. No. No.

Kurt clenched his fists, the metal band burning into his skin and hot tears threatened to spill over his cheeks. Blaine crowded into his space, wrapping him into a hug that Kurt couldn’t help sinking into.

Blaine rubbed soothing circles into Kurt’s back, but this. This wasn’t a hurt Blaine could fix.

“Kurt?” Jude asked, voice quiet, as he stirred in bed. His heart clenched and he barely felt the squeeze of Blaine’s hand around him. “Kurt?”

“Blaine could you?” Blaine nodded, giving Kurt a final squeeze before stepping out of the room, leaving them alone.

Fury, white hot and furling, licked at his every fiber and Kurt’s jaw set into a dangerous line before he attempted to look at Jude. He couldn’t see beyond his hand.

“Did you fuck someone else tonight?”

“Look, Kurt, I—”

“That’s all I needed to know.”

“Kurt.”

“We’re done.”

“Kurt!”

“Get yourself tested.” As soon as the ring was off, he couldn’t feel anything. Not the fury or the disappointment, not even the betrayal. The ring clacked as Kurt set it on the table next to Jude’s bed.

“Kurt...you...the ring? Wait! I can explain. I didn’t mean to.”

“You never mean to, but that never stops you from doing it.” Kurt finally met Jude’s eyes, ignoring the tears there. “I’m done.”

He turned on his heel and walked into the hall. Blaine was standing just outside the door and he held his arms out for Kurt. Kurt curled himself into Blaine’s embrace, crumpling into his arms, letting his tears spill over.

“Shh,” Blaine whispered against his temple, hands rubbing low on his back. Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt’s head, “Let’s go home.”

That night Kurt slept in Blaine’s bed, Blaine held him tight in his arms and despite the heartbreak; he’d never felt safer.

His wardrobe had been packed into fifteen boxes, the remainder of his belongings packed neatly into an additional four, Kurt had decided to leave much of his stuff behind, not wanting the memories attached to them. He and Blaine were getting ready to take the last few boxes down to the rented car when the front door opened. Kurt assumed it would be Layla, their usually elusive landlord who had insisted that Kurt hand over his keys to her in person.

It was Jude.

Kurt stood, rooted to the spot, staring at Jude until Blaine’s voice drifted in from his and Jude—Jude’s bedroom. It wasn’t his anymore.

“So we’ve only got three boxes left, if you wanna grab one, I can come back and get—Oh.“

“Hi Blaine. Thank you for taking me to the hospital last night, I really owe you one.” Jude stuck out his hand to Blaine, but Blaine just shifted the box in his arms, turning to Kurt.

Blaine looked as though there were a lot of things he’d like to say to Jude in that moment, none of them nice.

“Whatever,” Blaine grunted and moved past Jude, shifting to shoot a questioning glance at Kurt.

Stay. Kurt begged silently, and he thanked whatever gods that might exist that Blaine somehow understood him and rocked back on his hip, setting his box down.

“I’m almost done with the boxes, we’ll be out of here soon.”

“Kurt, please don’t go.”

“Why not? Why shouldn’t I leave? Give me a reason to stay.”

“I love you.” Jude reached for Kurt, but Kurt scoffed, pulling back.

“And look how well that’s been going for me. I didn’t say no, Jude. I needed time, but—“

“You needed time to think about marrying me. I thought you were in love with me, but now I can see you were just waiting for an excuse to leave.”

“Can you really blame me for not saying yes right away? Sometimes it’s hard to think about forever with you when you keep doing things like this to me. So yes, I needed time, but I was going to say yes.”

“Kurt,” Jude begged, “Please stay. I can change, I will change, I—“

“Want to change for you, for us. Save it, it’s worked for the last three years, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t let you do this to me. I’m done. So please just let me get the last of my stuff and then leave me alone.”

The rest of the move went without incident and the boys stayed silent the entire drive from Kurt’s old apartment to Blaine’s, Blaine folding his free hand over Kurt’s and holding on. Kurt couldn’t help feeling as though it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Thank you,” Kurt murmured into Blaine’s shoulder that evening as they lay, curled together in Blaine’s bed.

Heat, heat, too hot. He was sticky and uncomfortably warm, the arm draped across his hip burning heat into his skin. It only took a moment for Kurt to realize that the hot body pressed all along his back was not Jude’s and he relaxed into the hold, squirming a little to put some space between their sweaty bodies.

Blaine whined low in his throat as Kurt moved away, arms trying to pull him back, but Kurt rolled out of his grip and off the bed. The back of his shirt was soaked through and Kurt’s couldn’t imagine that Blaine was doing any better, but Blaine just reached out and pulled Kurt’s pillow into his arms, burying his head into the fabric.

Kurt knew Blaine was a cuddle monster, but he’d never had Blaine wrapped quite so tightly around him. He padded out into Blaine’s living room, plopping down on the cushy couch and flicked the TV on, turning it to Bravo.

An America’s Next Top Model marathon was running and Kurt burrowed into the cushions, settling in for the evening.

“He hasn’t left the couch in two days Blaine, your couch surfer needs to surf to somewhere I don’t normally eat my food every day.” Santana’s voice drifted in from the kitchen and Kurt barely batted an eyelash at the remark.

“Cut him some slack, Santana.” Blaine’s voice joined her, and that pooling of happiness in the pit of his stomach that usually came from Blaine defending him to Santana’s barbs didn’t come. He just laid there, eyes glazed as Tyra led the girl’s in a photo shoot.

“Yeah, yeah, he just went through a terrible breakup, but his body is going to leave a dent in our couch and he’s starting to smell.”

Blaine knew Santana was right, but he’d never seen Kurt this bad. Granted, Kurt had never actually left Jude before. Setting down the spoon he’d been stirring the sauce with, he wandered into the living room, settling on the couch next to Kurt, running his hand over Kurt’s back.

“It’s almost time for dinner, do you want a shower or food?” Worry etched into every word. In the past several years, he’d gotten good at reading Kurt, understanding his emotions, but this blank nothingness was terrifying. Kurt usually felt everything so strongly, when he was angry Blaine could feel his own blood rushing in his veins, every argument they’d ever had burning hotter as he fed off Kurt’s anger.

Then there was the time he’d made the mistake of going to see a movie with Kurt and Jude, his own date had cancelled, but he’d still really wanted to see the movie. Unfortunately, it had the added effect of making him hyper aware of when Jude leaned over the arm of his seat to suck lazily at Kurt’s neck, his hand falling into Kurt’s lap and rubbing too high along Kurt’s thigh. Blaine could feel the waves of arousal coming off Kurt, shocking Blaine into hardness as he fought to listen to the movie, not the tiny moans that pushed past Kurt’s lips. His ears prickled, hot and flushed as Kurt turned to reprimand Jude in a hushed hiss.

Now when he touched Kurt, it was like touching stone, nothing.

Kurt slowly raised himself from the couch, and Blaine got up so Kurt could swing his legs off the edge. Blaine helped him stand up, wrapping an arm around his waist, and god, that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but this was Kurt and even numb and unwashed, Blaine thought he smelled delicious, no cologne, just pure man. He had to fight to remember that he was just Kurt’s friend and Kurt was hurting, really hurting and he mentally slapped himself for wanting to nuzzle into that neck and just smell and lick and taste until Kurt forgot all about Jude and couldn’t remember anything beyond Blaine’s name and the way Blaine’s tongue felt against him.

He settled for slinging his arm a little lower than he should and leaning a little too close to Kurt’s ear.

“Shower or food first?”

“Shower.”

Blaine led Kurt into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He knew Santana was in her room, but he thought Kurt would appreciate the privacy. Kurt stood in front of him, staring blankly at the floor and Blaine reached around him to turn on the taps, coming back, he ran his fingers along the hem of the shirt Kurt was wearing.

Kurt lifted his arms as Blaine gripped the material and pulled it over Kurt’s head. Kurt’s eyes were red and drooping as they met Blaine’s on the other side of his shirt material. Blaine threw the shirt in the hamper, hands settling on Kurt’s hips. Kurt leaned into him, head coming to rest on Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine’s arms wrapped around him, drawing him into a tight hug.

They stood like that for several minutes. Eventually, Blaine pulled back and made to leave, but Kurt grabbed his wrist.

“Please.”

Blaine slid back, hands gliding over the smooth skin of Kurt’s sides, and dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Kurt’s pajamas, hooking into his underwear at the same time. He dragged his hands down, gently pulling Kurt’s pants off as he sank to the bathroom floor, lifting each of Kurt’s legs and rubbing along each calf as he went.

Once Kurt was naked, it took all of Blaine’s willpower to not stare at Kurt’s cock, right in front of his face, gorgeous and thicker than Blaine expected, even soft. He skimmed his hands along the outside of Kurt’s thighs as he stood up, arms coming to rest around Kurt once more and he pressed a kiss to Kurt’s cheek.

Kurt nudged Blaine’s face until their mouths fitted together and Blaine couldn’t help the way he held Kurt just a little tighter, letting Kurt press soft kisses against his closed lips. Blaine hadn’t been kissed like this since the fifth grade when Amanda Lyons had fallen, dizzy and laughing, from the tire swing with him during recess one day, and had rolled over in the sand, leaning above him and dropped her lips to his. This was nothing like that, chaste, but burning straight through him and he could feel Kurt’s lips against every nerve. Blaine wanted to do nothing more than turn them around and press Kurt back into the cool shower tiles and ravage him until he came with Blaine’s name on his lips. But that wasn’t what Kurt needed. So even as he felt a pooling of heat low in his groin as his cock twitched to attention, he pulled back.

“Take your shower. Dinner will be ready soon,” Blaine whispered against Kurt’s lips, letting Kurt press one more kiss against him before drawing back completely, leaving Kurt alone.

As he stirred the sauce, he could still feel Kurt’s lips pressed against his and he was glad that he had the cooking to distract him.

A few minutes later, the front door buzzer went off and Blaine wandered over to the intercom. He wasn’t expecting anyone and he didn’t think Santana was either.

“Hello?” He buzzed down.

“It’s Jude. I need to talk to Kurt.” Jude’s voice crackled through the speaker and Blaine’s blood ran cold, he’d never been more grateful for Kurt being in the shower. “I know he’s here.”

“Go away Jude.” Blaine had barely made it to the kitchen when the buzzer went off again.

“What do you want?”

“There’s something I need to tell him.”

“Too bad.”

“Blaine. It’s really important.”

“Fine, but you’re not telling him. I’ll be down.” Blaine slipped on a pair of sandals and stomped down the two flights of stairs. Jude was perched on the steps out front, wringing his wrists and looking as though he hadn’t slept in days.

He jumped up as Blaine opened the front door.

“What is it?”

“I’d really rather tell Kurt myself, are you sur--,”

“I think you’ve done enough damage.”

Jude shifted, bouncing on the balls of his feet before finally leaning in to Blaine, eyeing the street for any pedestrians. Blaine wanted to punch him. He didn’t care how nervous or upset Jude looked and he’d never understand how Kurt stayed with him for so long. Not with everything Jude did, but then—

“I got Chlamydia. Kurt should get tested.”

Blaine’s hand was still throbbing when he went with Kurt to the clinic the next day, Kurt’s fingers resting gently over the mild bruises.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course.”

He knew they should talk about it, about the kiss and the test and what Kurt planned to do now. There was so much Kurt needed to figure out, but as Kurt stood shakily when they called out his name, Blaine just turned Kurt’s hand over and pressed a kiss to Kurt’s wrist, letting him go.

The next day, Blaine came home to find the apartment covered in Kurt’s clothes, strewn across the floor, stacked into high piles, No Good Deed blasting on the stereo.

“I’m getting out of the Hummel warzone,” Santana said, breezing past him on his way in the door. “Have fun with that.”

“Kurt?” Blaine asked as he dropped his keys in the little bowl by the door.

Blaine found Kurt curled up in his bed, clutching a blue sweater that matched Kurt’s eyes perfectly and felt like heaven. It was Kurt’s favorite.

“Present from Jude.” Kurt explained. Blaine crawled onto the bed behind him, smoothing Kurt’s hair back. “When will this be over?”

“What?”

“This…nothingness. I just want to feel something again. I want to be angry. I want to be upset and frustrated. I want to scream, but it’s like I don’t even have a voice anymore. I know you don’t see me that way, but please, Blaine,” he begged as he grabbed Blaine’s hand drawing it into his lap and Blaine could feel him through the loose cotton material. His hand involuntarily rubbed over it. “Make me feel something.”

Blaine knew he should take his hand away. He knew that they should talk about this. He knew he should explain that yes, he very much wanted Kurt like this, but that this was wrong. he’d just gotten out of a relationship and using Blaine for sex wasn’t going to make him feel any better. Instead, he let Kurt hold his hand there rubbing over Kurt’s growing erection.

Kurt arched back, his ass settling right against Blaine’s crotch and it took all of Blaine’s willpower to not grind into it, to not drop his head down and lick at the exposed skin there.

“Yes, please. I need him gone from my mind. Make him go away. Please.” Kurt’s fingers dug into the back of his hand and the pressure against the bruises there hurt in the best way. He took Blaine’s hand in his, pressing it closer to his body and sliding both of their hands down into his pants.

They both gasped as Blaine’s hand wrapped round Kurt’s cock.

“Kurt.” His voice was broken. He was broken. This beautiful broken-hearted boy shoving Blaine’s hand down his pants had utterly ruined him for any other human being. He couldn’t help dropping his lips to Kurt’s neck, licking up the light sheen of sweat that shone on the strip of skin. “We need to talk about this,” Blaine panted against his ear, trying desperately to not rut into Kurt.

“Oh god, Blaine. No, please, just. Touch me, I need you. I need you.”

Blaine could never deny Kurt.

He tightened his grip and twisted and pulled around Kurt’s cock, relishing in the hot, thickness of it in his hand, in the way Kurt ground his ass back against Blaine. The noises. God, the noises he made, altogether too much and so much better than anything Blaine had or could have imagined. Breathy, shaky moans that shuddered out of his chest before he moaned, low in his throat as Blaine’s mouth moved against his neck once more.

He was overheating, so hot and there was too much contact and his cock, fuck his cock was hard, hard and rutting against Kurt with each press of his hips back. He could do this forever. Kurt’s cock in his hand, his moans broken off, shuddering into Blaine’s mouth.

Kurt came with a shuddering cry, spilling over Blaine’s hand and Blaine fell over the edge a moment later, tongue fucking into Kurt’s mouth.

Hours later, after they’d cleaned up and Blaine had helped him dispose of every article of clothing that had been related to Jude, Blaine turned to Kurt on his bed.

“We need to talk about what happened earlier, and what happened in the bathroom the other day.”

Kurt shook it off.

“You were just helping me out. I won’t read anything into it, don’t worry.”

“But Kurt—“

“Can we please not talk about this? I just want to sleep.”

“Okay.”

He would let it rest for now, and just grabbed Kurt’s hands, twining their fingers together across the bed.

The next morning, Blaine woke up to an empty bed, Kurt’s side long gone cold. He found Kurt sleeping, curled up on the couch once more, Bravo playing low on the TV. Leaning over, he brushed a kiss on Kurt’s forehead and swept the hair off his face.