When Blaine wakes up, he is alone. It's daylight now but he's not quite sure what time, groggy from falling into such a deep sleep. He feels boneless and heavy in a way that makes him want to cuddle deeper under the blankets in contentment. Well, not quite contentment, not yet. Where's Kurt?

On cue, Kurt nudges open the door with his foot and comes in carrying a tray of food and a glass of orange juice. Blaine feels almost stupidly happy and he smiles widely as he says, "Good morning, honey."

A bright smile spreads across Kurt's face as he climbs onto the bed, setting the tray in Blaine's lap and kissing him on the cheek. "Good morning. I thought you might be a little hungry, so I brought an omelet. But…" He lifts the tall glass of orange juice. "I want you to drink this now."

Blaine takes the glass, still feeling pleasantly buzzy for a reason he doesn't quite understand. He sits in silence for a minute or so as he drinks before setting the glass down and asking, "Will this turn me into a vampire?" He gestures to the two puncture marks on his wrist, and wow, he's really going to have to cover that up.

Kurt shakes his head. "No. You have to die with my blood in your system in order to start the transformation."

"Oh," Blaine answers, nodding. "Did I fall asleep right after you finished drinking last night?"

There's a quiet laugh from Kurt. "Yeah, honey, you were pretty worn out." He doesn't quite understand the reason there's such amusement in Kurt's voice so he thinks back and remembers the feeling of Kurt's mouth on his wrist and…oh.

"Was it bad?" Blaine asks. "I mean…I remember making…sounds." He feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Kurt just keeps smiling.

He kisses Blaine on the lips. "No, I wouldn't say you were bad." He laughs quietly. "You seemed to enjoy it, and god, you taste as amazing as you smell." Kurt's voice turns dreamy and he kisses Blaine on the lips again. "But, we're going to talk about this."

"Did it help?" Blaine asks simply.

"Yes. I barely had to drink any of your blood before the pain stopped," Kurt says, his voice honest and thoughtful.

Blaine nods once. "Good. Then we know what to do next time then."

"Oh no…" Kurt's shaking his head in disagreement. "There will be no next time."

"Yes there will." Blaine sits up straight and takes Kurt's hands. "This is the perfect solution. You can drink the blood from the bag or from an animal and then you can drink a little bit of mine. My blood can be like an aspirin or something. Just drink a little to balance everything out."

It's clear that Kurt is reluctantly thinking about it. "I don't like putting you at risk like this."

"Well, you're not putting me at risk, I'm volunteering myself for risk," Blaine says, his voice a little smug.

"That makes no sense whatsoever, Blaine." There's quiet amusement in Kurt's tone and Blaine knows he's won. "You are the most selfless person I've ever met."

"You were in pain," Blaine says by way of explanation. For him, it doesn't need any more justification than that. Kurt was in pain; he had a way to make it stop. That's what was important. He lifts his hand to rest on Kurt's cheek and a smile spreads across his face. "Kurt, you're warm!"

"It's what human blood does," Kurt explains.

And now Blaine is curious, because Kurt looks far happier than he has. "How do you feel?"

He looks reluctant to admit it, but finally Kurt says, "I feel absolutely amazing. I went outside this morning and watched the sunrise."

"No headache?"

"No headache," Kurt affirms. "God, it was amazing."

Blaine nods again. "Then it's settled. You're happy and I'm happy that you're happy."

Kurt sobers and turns toward Blaine. "Blaine, this is dangerous. I'm not sure you realize just how dangerous this is. I could get carried away in a second and end up really hurting you or worse." Kurt's voice is serious. "I couldn't live with myself if I let you get hurt, even if it's from something that you wanted. I just can't."

There is honest worry and concern in Kurt's eyes, but Blaine is sure. "I trust you. I know you'll stop before you hurt me. I trust you."

Kurt looks like he wants to protest, shaking his head minutely and starting to open his mouth, but instead he pauses for a second before nodding once. "Thank you."

It's a simple statement that has Blaine thoroughly confused. "Thank you? For what?"

Kurt gives Blaine a heart-stopping crooked smile and takes the mostly empty tray of food from in front of Blaine, setting it aside and throwing a leg over to straddle Blaine's lap. He leans forward and wraps his arms around the back of Blaine's neck and tipping his head forward until his forehead is resting against Blaine's before whispering, "For everything."

He doesn't get a chance to ask what "everything" entails because Kurt is leaning in and kissing him then, lips sliding, warm, soft, and yielding against Blaine's until he forgets his own name and whines against Kurt's lips as he's pushed backward and his head is resting on the pillow.

"I think I like you like this," Blaine says with a breathless laugh.

Kurt pulls away and gives him an inquiring smile. "Like what?"

"Like this." He brushes a hand through Kurt's hair and delights in the genuine, untroubled smile it earns him. "Even if you hadn't told me that you felt better, I'd know. You're just so much…" He struggles to find the word. "Happier."

Kurt laughs and the sound brightens the room. "I'm always happy when I'm with you." Kurt's eyes are bright and sparkling a beautiful blue in the morning light filtering through the curtains. "You make me happy."

Blaine beams at the admission and kisses Kurt softly on the lips. "I love you, Kurt."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Kurt answers, his voice soft and adoring. There's silence for a moment and Kurt's eyes turn thoughtful. He sits up suddenly and Blaine whines as the warm weight of Kurt's body leaves his own. Kurt's on his feet now and extending a hand toward the bed, a wide smile on his face. "Come on."

Blaine whines playfully. "But kissing…?"

Kurt rolls his eyes and his smile grows impossibly wider. "There will be plenty of time for that later." He pulls Blaine off the bed eagerly. "Now get dressed so we can go."

"Go?" Blaine inquires, his brow knitting in confusion.

But Kurt is untroubled. "Yes," he affirms, light dancing in his eyes. "I've got a surprise for you."

—

As Blaine sits on the bed, he wants to look around Kurt's bedroom. He didn't get a chance to the last time he was here, but Kurt had expressly forbidden him from looking around, so instead he asks questions as Kurt rifles through a footlocker he's pulled from the closet.

"Was this your room when you lived here?" Blaine asks, watching Kurt's back.

"Sure was. God, it's so weird that it actually still looks the same…" Kurt muses as he digs for whatever he's searching for. "I moved in here with my dad after he married Finn's mother." He looks up from the trunk and turns toward Blaine, standing up and crossing over to the nightstand next to him and pointing toward the antique lamp sitting on it. "See this crack?"

Blaine nods as he notices a very conspicuous crack in the lamp that looks like it had been hastily glued after being broken, the pieces not quite fitting back the way they should.

"When we were sixteen, George threw a baseball at me because I was teasing him about sneaking out to go up to The Point with your grandmother." Blaine grimaces at the thought of his grandparents together in the back of a car and Kurt laughs. "I ducked and the ball hit the lamp and knocked a big chunk out of it."

Kurt points to the odd fitting piece. "The lamp belonged to my grandmother or something. My dad used to tell me all these stories about how he remembered the pair of lamps sitting on either side of the couch when he was growing up—it had been an oil lamp then. He rigged it up for electricity himself. So, when George broke it, I knew my dad was going to blow a gasket, so we ran out to the garage and got a jar of glue and stuck it back together. Carole came home about halfway through and I heard her coming up the stairs. George met her in the hall and distracted her long enough for me to finish. Charmed the pants off her with that damn smile of his."

Kurt turns toward Blaine and grins. "It was the first thing I noticed about you. You've got the same smile." He leans down and presses a kiss to Blaine's lips before moving back over to the footlocker and going back to his search.

"Did you ever—?" Blaine stops in the middle of his question. Not quite sure how to phrase it.

Luckily, Kurt seems to understand anyway. "George and I were just friends," Kurt answers without turning, and Blaine nods.

"So you never wanted anything more?" He's not sure where the question came from, but now that it was out, he realizes that he really does want to know.

"He was my best friend, but he wasn't my type at all. I loved him like a brother, but no. Never anything more than that." Kurt must find what he's been looking for, because he punctuates his sentence with an "ah ha" before closing his hand around something and coming back to the bed and sitting down cross-legged in front of Blaine.

He leans forward and takes one of Blaine's hands, taking care to keep the other one closed and held tight in his lap. "Blaine, what are you really trying to ask me?"

Blaine breathes out a heavy sigh. "I think I'm a little confused. I mean…everyone says I look like my grandpa and you tell me that I have the same smile and that we have the same eyes, and you say that you love how I look. But then you say that you didn't have romantic feelings toward my grandpa, so I guess I just don't understand how that can be true if you're with me. And if you're with me, how do I know you're seeing me and not your best friend?"

There's a soft smile on Kurt's face and he squeezes Blaine's hand. "I'm sure you've heard all of the ways you're like your grandfather, but sweetheart, for every way you're like him, there are two ways that you're not. You're both smart and kind, but George was always very guarded and protective of himself. He never really let anyone know what was going on inside his head. You are an open book. I can tell exactly what you're thinking the moment it crosses your mind and I love that about you. You're not ashamed of showing your emotions or being in love.

"At first, when I saw you, I knew immediately that you had to be an Anderson. You've all been the same for generations: the hair, the charm, the manners. But I knew there was something different about you. George was always…" Kurt takes a breath and looks up toward the ceiling as he searches for the word. "Serious?" He shakes his head and his lips twitch downward. "No, that's not the right way to describe it. He was always hyper-focused on doing what he thought he was expected to do. He went into accounting because his father did it. He joined the football team because his father was on it. He never let himself have a dream and I hated that."

Kurt's frown turns up into a small smile. "Did you know that he wanted to be a writer?"

"No," Blaine answers, a smile touching his own face, "He never told me that. I never saw him writing…"

"That's because he stopped when he was seventeen. His father told him it was a waste of time. So, he stopped writing. He acted like it didn't bother him, but I know it did. He said he needed to 'refocus his efforts'. Less than a month later, he was writing a letter to Yale where his father went to get information about their accounting program." Kurt shakes his head sadly. "He would be so proud of you for standing up to your father, Blaine."

He presses a kiss to Blaine's lips before sighing and continuing with a small smile. "But what I'm saying is, at first, when I looked at you, all I could see were the similarities, but it didn't take long for me to realize that you were your own person who I really wanted to get to know." He squeezes Blaine's hand and smiles. "Now when I see you, all I see are the ways you're different, all the things that make you Blaine." He leans forward and kisses Blaine again and Blaine smiles into the kiss.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I'm not holding on to some old crush on your grandfather." Kurt laughs as though the thought is absurd, and Blaine can't help but feel better from such a genuine response. "The only thing that always seems to remind me of him is that you both have the same sense of humor, so when I see you laugh at something inane like he would, smiling that huge smile, it always makes me remember him and I feel grateful that everything happened like it did or else I would have never gotten to meet you."

That thought gives Blaine pause. He hadn't considered that. If not for Kurt, his grandfather would have never been able to get married and have a son and without that son, Blaine wouldn't have a father. He literally wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Kurt's sacrifice. Everything is connected and the thought is mindblowing. He's pulled from his whirling thoughts by Kurt squeezing his hand again.

"Blaine, I believe that everything happens for a reason. There's a reason I didn't die when I got shot. I was really bitter for so many years, because no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't seem to find the reason. I watched George get older and saw how happy he was and that soothed the wound, but there was always that part of me that was still searching for the reason. I never for a second regretted saving him, but I just couldn't figure out why I didn't die. I couldn't figure out what the reason was that I was still around," Kurt says, his eyes warm and earnest despite the seemingly bleak story.

"But," he continues, "I could never find my reason," A wide smile crosses Kurt's face and light plays in his eyes. "because he hadn't been born yet."

There are tears in Blaine's eyes and Kurt leans forward and kisses him, slow and sweet, before pulling back and holding up his hand, turning it palm up and opening his fingers to reveal some kind of necklace. "These are my dog tags. I put them back with my stuff when I ran after my transformation and George returned them to my dad. My joining the army set off the chain of events that led me to you, so I want you to have these."

He tucks the tags into Blaine's hand and folds his fingers over them, pressing a kiss to his hand.

Blaine stares at them, incredulous. "C-Can I wear them?"

"Of course," Kurt answers, a proud smile lighting up his face. He takes them from Blaine's hand and slips the chain over his head, the tags clattering against the front of his shirt as they settle against his chest. Kurt looks almost moved to tears and he shakes his head an whispers, "I love you, Blaine. I will love you forever."

Tears fill Blaine's eyes as he thinks about the fact that Kurt could quite literally love him forever. Forever means much more to a vampire than it means to a human, because Blaine's forever and Kurt's forever are two very different things.

And it's the first time since the day he found out about Kurt's secret that Blaine thinks about his own mortality. Kurt has lost so much and someday, he's going to lose Blaine. And he'll be alone again, only this time, he'll know what he was missing, because going through life searching for something ephemeral and feeling lost is comparatively better than finding what you've been searching for all of those years only to have it taken away.

He reaches up and takes the cool metal of the tags between his fingers as he affirms, "Forever."

A soft smile touches Kurt's face and he leans forward to rest his hand against Blaine's cheek. "You are so beautiful, Blaine." The words are a reverent whisper. He closes the distance between them and pushes lightly at Blaine's shoulder, coaxing him to lie on his back, before settling over top of him and deepening the kiss.

Blaine's fingers tangle into the back of Kurt's hair to hold him. "Kurt, I want you, please…" Blaine breathes out against Kurt's lips.

Kurt's hips stutter down, dragging teasingly over the front of Blaine's jeans in a way that has his body arching up into the friction and Blaine sees Kurt's eyes squeeze shut as a quiet whine slips past his control. "Blaine…you…you can't just say things like that," Kurt whines through gritted teeth, his voice just shy of tortured.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine defends, propping himself up on his elbows and looking Kurt in the eye with determination. "I know you're worried, but I trust you. I know you won't hurt me."

But Kurt is shaking his head and looking equally determined. "No. It's not something I'm going to risk, Blaine. I refuse to take the chance of really hurting you. I couldn't live with myself if I did anything to hurt you or worse…"

"I know that you won't, Kurt," Blaine says, his voice soft and pleading. He reaches up to press his palm against Kurt's cheek. "Kurt, I want you and I'm hoping you want me too—"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Of course I want you, Blaine, don't be ridiculous—"

"Then what exactly is it that we're waiting for? I'm always going to be human, Kurt, so no matter what happens, there's going to be a risk…" Blaine trails off as realization dawns on him. "You don't want me to be human when we do this, do you?"

"I refuse to risk you getting hurt. I'm not going to let myself get out of control around you," Kurt says by way of explanation.

"You want me to be a vampire." It's not a question.

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and sits up, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration. "No," he says quickly. "I mean…yes, I do, but I hate that I want this for you. The idea of losing you someday kills me and I know that if you were a vampire, I'd never have to lose you. It's the most selfish thing—"

"Kurt, honey, no," Blaine says softly, sitting up beside his boyfriend. "It's not selfish. You've lost so much, and I don't want you to lose anyone else."

"I was serious when I said that I'll love you forever, Blaine," Kurt answers earnestly.

Blaine gives him a small smile and kisses him on the lips. "I know, sweetheart. But becoming a vampire isn't something I've ever thought about before—"

"Then don't think about it right now," Kurt says, his voice ringing with sincerity. "Blaine, this isn't something you have to think about now or ever, if you don't want to. Vampire or human, I will love you just the same, okay?"

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine and Blaine lets his head fall against Kurt's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck before whispering, "I wish you trusted yourself half as much as I trust you."

There's thoughtful silence for a long moment before Kurt speaks again. "We can—We can try, Blaine."

Blaine pulls back a little and meets Kurt's eyes, taking both of his hands. "Yeah?"

Kurt nods. "Yes." His voice is tentative and slow. "But if anything starts to go even remotely wrong, we're going to stop."

A hopeful smile lifts the corner of Blaine's mouth. "Really?"

"Yes," Kurt confirms, smiling in spite of himself. "But not now. I want it to be special."

Blaine slides closer to Kurt and tightens his arm. "Will this be your first time too?"

He's sure he already knows the answer, but he can't help that possessive little pang of curiosity in his stomach. Kurt doesn't seem like the type of boy to sleep around, but still…

"Yes, Blaine," Kurt answers, nodding. His voice is soft and intimate. "It's not something I ever really gave much thought to. I was essentially just trying to live through high school and then I joined the army and well…I suppose you know the rest of that story by now." A coy smile touches Kurt's face.

Blaine is just about to speak when his phone chimes in his pocket. He takes it out and unlocks the screen. "It's my dad," he narrates. He scrolls through the text message. "He wants to talk."

"That sounds…ominous," Kurt says slowly, his brow furrowing in concern. "Is everything okay do you think?"

Blaine doesn't look up from the screen, trying to read deeper into a message that just isn't there. "I'm not sure. I hope so."

Kurt squeezes his hand but is otherwise silent, letting the moment fall into a companionable quiet until Blaine suggest that they should probably go find out what his father wants. Kurt nods and takes Blaine's hand to lead him through the house, both giving a polite wave and goodbye to Finn as they pass through the living room. The man just seems pleased by the smile on Kurt's face and their intertwined hands.

The drive back to Blaine's is relatively quiet, just humming along with the radio and holding hands across the console until Kurt pulls up at the end of Blaine's driveway. "I'm going to go run a few errands, okay? Let me know what happens."

Blaine nods and leans across the car to give Kurt a quick goodbye kiss. "I'm sure it's okay," he says with more sureness than he actually feels. "I'll call you."

He climbs out of the car and watches it pull away before turning toward the walkway toward the front stairs.

The second he opens the front door, his guard immediately goes up. His father is sitting silently in the living room, watching the door with a somber expression. Something is definitely wrong. Blaine closes the door and turns toward his father hesitantly. "What's wrong, dad?"

He's standing awkwardly in the entry so his father gestures for him to sit, still silent and looking uncomfortable. His father clears his throat and begins with, "I've given this a lot of thought and I've decided that I'm not going to sit idly by and watch you throw your life away on something as frivolous as a music degree."

Oh. Blaine's face falls a little, but honestly, his father's disapproval isn't something that's entirely a new concept. "I'm sorry, dad, but I've made up my mind. This is what I want for my life."

His father holds up a hand toward Blaine to stop him. "You say that, but I want to make sure you know the consequences of your actions." He takes a deep breath and sits impossibly straighter. "You saying that you're going to go to school for music is essentially a slap in the face to generations of this family. Your great-grandfather and your grandfather were both accountants and this is a slap in the face to the tradition of this family."

"That's not true, dad," Blaine defends, shaking his head. "I think that grandpa would be proud that I want to follow my own dreams, because he didn't get a chance to."

"What are you talking about?" his father asks, steel lining his voice.

Blaine leans forward toward his father. "Did you know that grandpa wanted to be a writer? I never understood where I got my creative streak from, but I guess it's just another thing I got from him. So, I think he'd be proud of me—"

"Proud that his grandson is throwing his life away?" Mr. Anderson cuts in abruptly.

"No. Proud that I'm willing to stand up for myself and follow my dreams," Blaine answers with determination.

His father shakes his head, looking just shy of angry. "I don't know where you're getting all of these grand notions about your grandfather, Blaine, but—"

"Did he ever tell you that he wanted you to become an accountant like he did?" Blaine asks, cutting his father off and catching him off guard. Confusion knocks the man back a second and he falters around an answer so Blaine continues. "I bet he didn't. I bet he wanted you to follow your own dream, but you just figured that you were expected to follow in his footsteps."

Blaine takes a deep breath. "Dad, I love you, but I can't do that. I can't live my life according to what's expected of me. I want you to be proud of me, dad, but I want you to be proud of me for the things that make me who I am and music is one of those things. I love to play music and sing. It makes me so happy and I want to do that for the rest of my life. And I'd love it if you would support me in this, because it really means a lot to me."

"I'm sorry, Blaine, but I can't do that," his father says, shaking his head and not sounding sorry at all. "I was hoping you'd change your mind and it wouldn't come to this, but you've left me no choice. Either you pursue an accounting degree and take over the firm or find another way to support yourself, because your mother and I won't anymore."

Blaine freezes, his blood running cold as the words sink in. It's like he heard the words but they made no sense. "W—What?" he asks, sounding just as stunned and confused as he feels.

"Until you come to your senses and do the right thing, your mother and I will no longer support you. You will need to find a new place to live," he says, his voice stern and final. "I'm sorry, son, but this is for your own good."

Blaine laughs once without humor in spite of himself. "For my own good? You're kicking me out of the family because I won't do what you want me to do and you say that it's for my own good?"

His father crosses his arms and says nothing so the room falls into uncomfortable silence. Blaine slaps his hands against his thighs. "Fine." He's fighting back tears of rejection and abandonment as he stands up. "I'll get my things and I'll be gone in an hour."

Again, his father says nothing.

Blaine does his best not to stumble on his way out of the living room and up the stairs, unshed tears blurring his vision. He refuses to let his father see him cry. He moves quickly around his room, tossing important things and clothes into a big suitcase, deciding to come back and get the rest later when he has more time to pack, and goes back downstairs. He pauses in the entryway, bag slung over his shoulder, and turns toward his father.

"I just—I just want you to remember this. When you're wondering why I spent so much time with grandpa when I was growing up, I want you to remember this. You have never supported me in anything that I wanted to do and tried to make me do what you did and what grandpa did. This house was the only place I ever really felt at home and I'm coming to realize that it's because you weren't there. I only felt loved and at home when you weren't around. Just…remember that when and if you ever finally decide that you're going to miss me."

He nods once and opens the door to step out into the sunlight. As he closes the door behind himself and steps off the porch, he lets the tears start to fall as he dials Kurt's number. It goes to voicemail so he clears his throat—which does embarrassingly little to hide the tears in his voice—and leaves a message.

"Hey, baby. I…um…I need you to pick me up." His voice cracks as he finishes with, "I'm at the end of my driveway. Please…just call me back. I really don't want to be here right now."

With his phone held in his hand, he drops down to sit on his bags and lets misery take him, burying his face in his hands and crying in earnest.