Kurt lures Blaine to their bedroom with kisses, punctuated by the slow, methodic removal of clothing, buttons and ties and buckles undone by hands that tremble like it’s their first time.

Because it is their first time.

Their first time since Blaine’s accident.

The first time since their lives were torn apart.

And between the kisses, in the pauses for a breath, or when Blaine pulls away because he simply wants to marvel at the handsome man so eager to have him despite everything, Kurt repeats the same question over and over.

“Now, are you absolutely certain?” he asks, leading Blaine by the hand to their bed, though Blaine doesn’t seem to need much leading, or coercing, the darkening glimmer in his hazel eyes, pupils widening in the dim light as they switch rooms, a beacon of undeniable desire.

“Please,” Blaine begs, walking a step faster to be closer to his husband, “stop asking me that.”

“I…” Kurt startles, kiss-swollen lips pursed as he thinks up an appropriate, not condescending response. “I just want to make sure I’m not rushing you, or guilting you into something you’re not ready for.”

“I’m grateful that you’re concerned,” Blaine says, starting on Kurt’s buttons now that he has this chance. “I really am, but you’re making me nervous. I’m beginning to think that, maybe, you’re the one who doesn’t want to.”

“Me?” Kurt answers so suddenly the word squeaks out of his mouth. “I do! I do want to. God, I do. You have no idea how much I want to.”

Blaine bites back a giggle. He steps up to Kurt, ignoring stomach knots and the start of questions he thought he wanted answered before they took this step, but which don’t seem to matter anymore. He puts a hand to Kurt’s cheek, resting it there while he gazes into Kurt’s eyes.

“Then show me,” he says.

“O—okay,” Kurt says hesitantly. His body is willing, but his mind has reservations. He’s hampered by images of Blaine fighting the constant, insurmountable, ever-present nothing that he can’t see around - a void so pervasive, he can feel its darkness inside his head like a tumor. But worse than that is the erupting fear that his memories aren’t locked somewhere deep within his brain the way his doctor always assures him, but that they’re gone completely. So often, Kurt has held Blaine while he cried, after he racked his brain to the point of a migraine, trying to recall the most mundane details – his mother’s name, where his father worked, the theme song to his brother’s commercial, or the color of his nephew’s eyes. These weren’t complicated, philosophical concepts; they’re things he should know without trying. He nearly tore himself to pieces, but he couldn’t recall a single one. In the end, Kurt had to tell him. Kurt knew he was a bitter comfort as he wound his arms around his husband, trying to alleviate his pain. From Blaine’s perspective, Kurt was a stranger, and his arms wrapped tight around him, attempting to soothe him, probably only added to his distress.

What must it be like to stand on the threshold of making love to a man, one who swears he loves you, and knows everything about you, but whom you don’t know at all?

Kurt’s not sure he could do it if he were in Blaine’s shoes.

But, then again, Blaine has always been the bravest man Kurt knew when it came to trusting love.

Kurt wishes he could close his mind off and let his body take over, every sense so desperate to be filled with Blaine again that they seem to have no qualms whatsoever over what Blaine does and doesn’t remember. He wishes the doubts he has that he’s doing the right thing would disappear for one stupid night so he can indulge in his own memories of the past, and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

“Okay,” Kurt repeats, “but just so you know, you have total veto control. You want to stop, just say the word and we sto---“

Blaine silences him with a single press of his lips against Kurt’s. If there’s one thing Blaine seems to know how to do, whether he remembers or not, is kiss Kurt. It comes so close to the way Kurt remembers Blaine kissing him that he forgets everything. It wipes the slate clean. It brings them back to the beginning, when everything was new, when possibilities were endless, when the future was still light years away - a stretch of the imagination.

When Blaine kisses Kurt, when he takes the initiative and crosses the precipice, it’s that way all over again.

Blaine kisses Kurt because he can’t wait. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t, Kurt never will. There’s a part of Blaine that believes wholeheartedly that making love to Kurt will turn out to be a panacea. It has to be. What more logical way of overcoming the breach could there be than making love to his husband?

It’s the only major step they haven’t taken yet.

They went back to Ohio. They visited Blaine’s childhood home, saw his family, took a tour of every school he ever attended (including the school where he was beaten up after the Sadie Hawkins Dance, as well as the rebuilt Dalton Academy). They walked the halls of McKinley – sat in on the Glee Club, sang together on the Finn Hudson Auditorium stage. (Kurt got misty-eyed, but he didn’t tell Blaine why.) They ordered coffee at The Lima Bean, and later, grabbed a drink at Scandals (now called Picadillies, under new management, remodeled to have a British flair but while somehow maintaining its seedy milieu). They visited Kurt’s dad, stopped by his old shop, and ate dinner at Breadstix.

None of it triggered anything significant.

Blaine figured (on his own since he didn’t know how to tell Kurt) that those things didn’t produce a powerful enough jolt. But this – this had to do the trick. It seems underhanded and cruel to keep this theory from Kurt, but Blaine doesn’t want Kurt getting the wrong idea.

Blaine’s not using this as a way to find the love he lost. He may not be able to recollect the life he had with Kurt, the love he felt back then, but that’s moot. He’s already fallen in love with Kurt all over again. How could he not? And it isn’t because of the things Kurt has done for him. It’s because of who Kurt is. The remarkable, amazing, loving man that exudes from every glorious, fashion-forward inch of him. Love isn’t the problem. Aside from Blaine’s own personal pain, which he lives with every day and that he’s growing to accept, he feels he needs to try to be the Blaine that Kurt fell in love with, the Blaine that he married. And if this doesn’t do the trick, well, they’ll move on from here. Kurt has already said so. And Blaine’s willing to live with that.

But he owes it to Kurt to give it a try.

Kurt stands motionless and lets Blaine undress him. His hands quiver, his fingers don’t pinch as securely, but Kurt’s a patient man. He’s waited for months to have this moment with Blaine. He can wait a few minutes more. Blaine gets Kurt’s shirt undone, his belt unbuckled, and the fly to his pants unbuttoned and unzipped when, with a shy grin, he concedes defeat. Kurt slides his shirt off and tosses it aside, his need to have Blaine temporarily superseding his need to hang it up or take off his pants. He pushes Blaine down gently on the bed, kissing him up to the head of the mattress while Blaine scoots backward underneath him.

“You relax,” Kurt says, maneuvering Blaine the rest of the way till his head hits the pillows. “Don’t feel like you have to do anything. Let me take care of you.”

“Well, I want to do something,” Blaine jokes, covering up his apprehension with a breathy laugh.

“I know,” Kurt answers with kisses to Blaine’s neck, his chest, his belly, “but don’t feel like you have to try for me. Just…do what you feel like doing. Live in the moment. Follow your instincts.”

Blaine nods, any semblance of a verbal response lost as he watches Kurt travel lower and lower, his voice avalanched by excitement, anticipation, and a smidgen of fear.

But also embarrassment.

Blaine’s seen pictures of himself from before the accident. Apparently, he spent quite a bit of time working on his body. They both did. On several occasions, he’s walked into their bedroom to find Kurt doing pushups on the floor…in his underwear. He’s in exceptional form, and Blaine…well, he spent two weeks in a coma. Rehab has been a lengthy process. He didn’t spring up out of bed when he regained consciousness. It was more like being born again. The doctors and therapists had to re-teach Blaine things most people never think twice about – how to swallow, how to talk, how to read and write, all before he re-learned how to walk. Kurt was there beside him to witness every milestone, and they are triumphs to be proud of, every single one. But as much as he’s progressed physically, in some cases ahead of schedule, a lot of places on Blaine’s body have sagged from lack of use, and that’s become an issue that’s held Blaine back from intimacy up till now.  

Kurt either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care. He takes Blaine in his mouth, moaning hungrily, hands creeping around to cup Blaine’s ass, kneading his soft flesh.

“Oh…fuck!” Blaine moans, eyes wide, bulging out of his skull as Kurt sucks over him. Kurt sputters, pulling off and giggling into Blaine’s thigh.

“I…I’m sorry,” Blaine says, cheeks turning a vibrant shade of cherry red. “Did I do something wrong? Do I…not curse?”

“You do,” Kurt says with a hiccup of happiness. “In fact, you react that same way every time.”

Blaine drops his head back and smiles as Kurt continues. That was him. That reaction – it was him, without him knowing it. He’s still in there somewhere, and for a second, he let Kurt know. If Kurt weren’t as talented as he is at giving oral, Blaine could probably say he’d reached his limit for bliss. But Kurt’s mouth on his cock is nothing less than perfection, and having him worship him like this, giving him so much, even if it’s only in the hopes of bringing his old self back, is more than Blaine ever thought possible.

Blaine closes his eyes and lets his mind go blank, waiting for Kurt’s mouth on him, his hands massaging his legs, touching him, constantly touching him, to bring something back. And it does…kind of, in the form of smells and tastes, bits of sounds, pieces of songs. At one point, he thinks he sees the flash of a memory. Kurt’s smile, but Blaine doesn’t know from where or when – was it from them sitting and having coffee together at The Lima Bean back in high school, or was it from last week, when they ducked into Starbucks during a sudden downpour? Blaine tries to zoom in on it, make it clearer, but it slips away as quickly as it came. His attempts to pin it down start to dull the feeling of Kurt’s mouth on his cock, so, reluctantly, he lets it go.

Kurt hears Blaine whimper. It’s a sound as steeped in anxiety as it is in ecstasy. He glances up and meets Blaine’s eyes – sparkling in the glowing light and full of heat, but also something else. Confusion? Dismay? Frustration? Whatever it is, Kurt wants to wash it away and replace it with passion, energy, and acceptance. Acceptance of himself, of the body he’s struggling with along with his memory. He wants Blaine to know that the soft parts don’t matter, the slightly fading muscle tone doesn’t make him unattractive. That he’s still recovering, and these things take time, but even if it doesn’t entirely heal, Kurt couldn’t care less.

“K-Kurt?” Blaine says, the words thick, wavering, and Kurt can tell he doesn’t like being looked at. Not like this. “Can you…please…?”

“Make love to you?” Kurt asks, steering the subject away from Blaine’s body, crawling back up with his focus solely on Blaine’s lips, attacking them the second they’re within reach.

“Y-yes,” Blaine stutters when Kurt gives him the chance to speak. “Yes, please.”

Kurt’s more than ready to oblige, but he falters, just for a second.

Neither Kurt nor Blaine were specifically a top or a bottom. They flipped quite a bit. But Kurt hadn’t discussed this part with Blaine, didn’t know if those preferences had changed. He had no idea, actually, how Blaine wanted to do this.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks, his already weak smile falling from his face. “What’s wrong? What…what is it?”

“Nothing, baby,” Kurt says. “I’m just trying to think of how to make this good for you.”

“Oh.” Blaine chuckles with surprise. “Well, let’s do it the last way we did it.”

“In order to do that we’d have to be…” Kurt stops. He swallows; his mouth, dry; his throat closing, blocking the air in his lungs.

“Have to be…what?” Blaine’s smile, hanging on by threads, becomes a frown of concern.

“Uh…have to be…in the backseat of your Mercedes…which was totaled when…”

It had happened an hour before the accident. Kurt and Blaine met for dinner, each one coming from a distance and driving their own vehicles. Before they parted for the ride home, they climbed into Blaine’s car, giggling like teenagers, for a late night, taboo quickie. It was Blaine’s idea. He’d said that watching the sensual way Kurt enjoyed his cheesecake had him so hard he could barely walk straight, and if they didn’t get into his car and fuck, he’d probably veer off into the center divider on the drive home and flip his car. Kurt laughed and said he couldn’t live with himself if that happened.

Later, sitting beside Blaine’s hospital bed, a breathing apparatus over his husband’s face and tubes sticking out of him, appearing lifeless with grey tinged skin and bluish lips, Kurt would have days to come to terms with the irony.

They had sex in the back seat of Blaine’s car, to the enjoyment of a few other patrons who had left the restaurant after them, and then they caravanned home. They got separated on the highway, Kurt’s car breaking away from a cluster and hitting the exit before Blaine had the chance to change lanes. That’s when the tractor trailer flipped, and the pile up began – twelve cars total, with Blaine’s car at the very back, flipped onto its hood.

But where Kurt feels like hyperventilating as the memory resurfaces, Blaine, who doesn’t remember any of it, feels his heart skip a beat.

What better way to kick his brain into gear than re-enacting something from that night?

“How did we do it?” Blaine asks in a rush.

“We…uh…” Kurt turns away, and wipes his wet eyes with his fingertips, “I…you sat, and I climbed in your lap and rode you.”

Blaine shimmies upright before the word, “Okay,” slips past his lips. “Okay…we can do that. Right?”

Kurt watches his husband scurry to sit up, propping himself with every pillow within reach. He does the best he can, but with the muscles on his right side not as strong as the left, he ends up lopsided. He settles into his brace of cushions, and flashes Kurt a goofy smile. Kurt finds himself laughing through tears he’s tired of fighting.

 “Alright,” Kurt relents, giving his husband a kiss on the nose. “We’ll do it your way.”

Kurt doesn’t start back up right away. He needs a second to let the memories of that night dwindle. By the time he can bring himself to look back into Blaine’s self-conscious eyes, he finds his smile.

“Alright,” he says again with a sultry smile for Blaine, to give him courage, the same way Blaine always gave Kurt courage.

Kurt takes his husband’s cock in his hand, not completely hard, but getting there, and both men gasp.

For Blaine, this is the start of something incredible.

For Kurt, it’s the continuation of something he thought he’d never have again.

Kurt hasn’t allowed himself anything even remotely like this since Blaine’s accident. He tried masturbating once or twice, before Blaine came home and Kurt was alone in their place. He would drop by home for a shower, a change of clothes, and a nap in his own bed, to fortify himself so he could return to the hospital. But it wasn’t his bed alone – it was their bed. And it smelled like Blaine.

It felt like Blaine.

Everything in their room reminded Kurt of Blaine, from the flannel sheets that Blaine loved, to the sage-colored wall paper. And if that weren’t enough, there were pictures of the two of them on every conceivable surface, from their high school days at Dalton and McKinley, through college, their wedding day, their honeymoon, to literally a few days before the accident when they went to see Rachel perform at Radio City Music Hall. Kurt thought that maybe these pictures could be fuel for one mind-blowing orgasm, exhausting him enough to put him to sleep for a few hours, but he couldn’t do it. Pleasuring himself, even if just for the purpose of putting himself to rest, while his husband was lying in the hospital, unconscious, felt evil to Kurt. Like he was the lowest, most despicable human being in existence.

Kurt preps Blaine with lube and a few lazy strokes, restraining himself from asking one last time if Blaine wants this. He does, and from the state of his arousal, he’s obviously ready. Kurt doesn’t bother to open himself up, deciding to stretch himself over his husband. He doesn’t care if it burns. If he has to wait another second, he’s going to explode, and as it is, he doesn’t see himself lasting too long with Blaine inside him. Kurt lines Blaine’s erection up with his body under his husband’s watchful, fascinated eyes. Blaine gulps hard the second the head of his cock breaches Kurt’s body, his lips parting with the start of a moan. Sliding over Blaine’s cock, feeling that familiar fullness, the way Blaine can ignite a fire inside Kurt like no one else can, reminds Kurt of how worth the wait this was.

Kurt steals a quick glance at the body underneath him as he inches his way down – this man that he’s loved for so long, that he’s lost so many times. This could be a make it or break it moment for them, the point where Blaine decides if life with a man he doesn’t know is really what he wants, and that makes Kurt afraid.

He can’t lose Blaine again.

There’s little burn, and Kurt’s amazed considering how long it’s been. But his body knows Blaine’s. It knows how much it needs to open up to accommodate him. Everything within Kurt wants him. Kurt’s felt alone beside his husband for so many months, even though Blaine’s been right there.

They’ve become two separate people. Kurt wants to feel like one again.

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt sighs, resisting the urge to close his eyes and relish this in favor of watching the expression on Blaine’s face. He still hasn’t moaned, hasn’t spoken. Kurt isn’t even certain that he’s blinked. Kurt moves slowly, letting this sensation of their bodies coming together and pulling apart wash gently over him. He turns making love to Blaine into a journey. He sees little in the way of recognition in Blaine’s eyes, but there’s a sense of wonder at how well Kurt knows Blaine’s body. He pulls out all the stops, does everything he can think of that Blaine enjoys. Blaine may not consciously know his husband, but his body remembers, rising to Kurt’s touch, bending for his mouth. Kurt doesn’t fumble, he doesn’t guess. He knows exactly where Blaine wants to be touched, how he wants to be kissed, even before Blaine does. Blaine wishes that would change something, light a spark, but it doesn’t. But that’s not devastating. Because whatever Kurt was to Blaine, he’s learning it all over again, fresh and new, with nothing sullying the memory – not the fights or the breakups that they apparently had, none of the angst.

Blaine doesn’t recall any of that either, but he knows.

Kurt had been helping Blaine get his memory back in drips and drabs the way the doctors and the therapists recommended. Start with easy and tangible things – names of friends and family, places they usually went, pictures of Ohio and of home. Kurt made Blaine flashcards and eight-page picture books with simple captions underneath. They had a plan. Start with today and move on to yesterday.

But Blaine jumped ahead ninety steps when he stumbled on his own diaries and read them.

Kurt had gone to lunch with friends from out-of-town. Blaine bowed out, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of a visit with people he was told he should know, but didn’t. Blaine had gotten bored with his flashcards and his picture books, and decided to do some organizing. He found a box stuffed in the way back of the closet that had his name on it, and underneath it the words For later written in Kurt’s handwriting. That tipped Blaine off that perhaps he shouldn’t open it, but he was too curious to leave it alone. He took it out of the closet and tore it open. Inside, it looked like a time capsule – albums and scrapbooks he hadn’t seen yet, high school yearbooks, stacks of awards, a school uniform, and underneath all of that, a dozen leather-bound journals.

Diaries.

His diaries.

He put them in order from the most recent (even though that one was dated about ten years ago) and started reading them. The entries he read jibed with the stories Kurt had told him, but Kurt’s were abridged versions, omitting certain things he felt Blaine wasn’t ready to know…or maybe they were things he wanted to forget, because not everything in their past was good. Not everything was happy.

Their life way back in high school and college, wasn’t the epic fairytale Kurt made it out to seem.

The more Blaine read, the less Blaine liked himself – the person he was, the decisions he made…things he did to Kurt.

By the time Kurt came home, Blaine was in tears, and he had torn at least one of the diaries to shreds.

Blaine thought the information contained in those diaries would fill in the holes in his memory, but they seemed to bring up even more questions while still leaving him in the dark about everything else. There were so many things he didn’t understand. Kurt patiently filled in the blanks. The way things had taken a turn and gone so wrong in their lives broke Blaine’s heart. It made him wonder why Kurt was sticking through with him. Why didn’t he just cut and run? This would be the perfect opportunity. No one would blame him. Life with Blaine is difficult, even as highly functioning as he is. The doctors said that there was no shame in Blaine rehabilitating in a “group home” type facility. It would take the pressure off of Kurt to be his caregiver, and Kurt could visit him whenever he wanted. He could even spend the night.

Blaine reminded Kurt of that again after they talked about the journals. No one would blame him, including Blaine, but Kurt, with patient and heartbroken eyes, shook his head and held Blaine tight.

“No,” he repeated over and over. “No, I’m not doing that. I don’t care. I’m never saying goodbye to you.”

That’s one of the reasons Blaine decided to take this step. Because even if it didn’t work the way he planned, he would still be safe, living with a man who loved him.

Kurt speeds his hips when he feels a long-dormant orgasm spring to life and swoop through him. He doesn’t know how close Blaine is. He hasn’t whimpered, hasn’t moved his eyes from Kurt’s face. But the orgasm building in Kurt’s body can’t be slowed, and it sure as hell can’t be stopped. He’ll cum, and if he needs to, he’ll make it up to Blaine after.

Blaine’s mouth drops open and he starts to pant, groaning with strain. Blaine has a few physical limitations, mostly on his right side, and Kurt sees him struggling, trying to raise his right hand to touch him, his left shaking as it acts as a counterbalance. Kurt takes Blaine’s hand by the wrist and pulls it forward, resting it on his cock. Then he closes his hand over it and starts to stroke.

“Blaine,” Kurt moans, arching his back. “Blaine…oh, Blaine, I…I…”

“K-kurt,” Blaine mutters. It’s the first time he’s said his husband’s name since this began. It sizzles through Kurt’s body, like a lick of flame racing down a fuse toward a stick of dynamite, and he wishes he could find a way to make it last.

Kurt leans forward and kisses Blaine on the mouth - something Blaine always loved right before he came. He saw an elevated level of intimacy in kissing someone while they climaxed.

The ultimate joining of two souls.

Blaine kisses Kurt back. Kurt was afraid Blaine might not, but he does – hard at first, desperately, but it stalls when Blaine cums inside Kurt with a hard jerk of his hips.

Kurt settles in Blaine’s lap, absorbing the final tremors of Blaine’s body as he succumbs to his own orgasm, spilling over his husband’s hand, shooting onto his chest. Kurt wants to stay there forever and hold his husband, gaze into each other’s eyes while he listens to Blaine tell him how it was for him, but Blaine’s body doesn’t stop convulsing.

“Kurt…” Blaine moans, arms contorting as muscles he has sporadic control over begin to cramp, his right hand curling towards his chest. “Oh…oh God, Kurt…”

“Shh…” Kurt climbs off Blaine, careful not to hurt him. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you covered up.” He wraps Blaine in their comforter, tucking it in around his shivering body. He cleans off his hand and his chest, massaging feeling back into his torqued limbs. As the convulsions subside, Kurt stretches out beside him, and the two quietly melt against one another. “Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Blaine says, panting and puffing as if he’d just finished running a marathon. Blaine lays in Kurt’s arms quietly – too quiet for having made love for what could be considered the first time, and Kurt starts to worry. What if it wasn’t what Blaine was hoping for? What if he didn’t enjoy himself? What if it was too weird, making love to a stranger?

What if he decides this isn’t what he wants after all?

Kurt promised Blaine that he would stand behind any decision that Blaine makes about his future, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be fine if Blaine decides to leave.

“Kurt?” Blaine says, the sound of his voice bringing Kurt back to himself.

“Hmm?” Kurt looks at his husband’s face, fingers lazily skating over Blaine’s sweaty skin.

“What was our first time like?”

Kurt chuckles, eyes moving from Blaine’s face to the ceiling, not having to search long or hard for that particular memory.

“It was” – Kurt pauses for a dreamy sigh – “heavenly. You were so…gorgeous. You still are,” Kurt assures him with an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve barely changed and it’s been, what? Over a decade, at least? I felt so lucky to be with you.” Kurt shakes his head. “God, we were so young, so nervous. We were both at the same point, experience-wise, you know, but you, you seemed so confident. Not like you’d done it before, but like you’d thought it over so many times in your head that there was no reason for you to be afraid. And all that confidence, it was contagious. It made me unafraid.”

“And now, you’re that for me,” Blaine says, running a hand up Kurt’s arm, his fingers tickling over the hairs on his skin.

“Well, to be fair, I’ve probably made love to you hundreds of times since then,” Kurt says.

“And” - Blaine swallows - “I can’t remember a single one.”

Kurt sighs against the top of Blaine’s head, feeling somewhat defeated. “I’m sorry if this wasn’t a good experience for you.”

“It’s not that,” Blaine says. “It’s not that at all. This was amazing. Better than I dreamed it would be. I just thought, you know, that it would bring something back.” This time, when Blaine falls silent, Kurt understands that he’s not disappointed in what they shared, but that it didn’t unlock any of his secrets. It didn’t open the flood gates of memory that he…that they…secretly hoped it would.

“How do you feel?” Kurt asks. “About this…about us…about everything? Does this change your decision to stay?”

“I don’t remember much more than I did before,” Blaine says, curling into his husband’s arms, wanting Kurt to know how much he needs to feel close to him. “But I feel like…this is right. Maybe I don’t know who you are entirely, but something inside me knows that it’s always been you. That you and me, we were meant to be together.” Blaine finds Kurt’s hand and laces their fingers together. “And maybe I won’t ever remember what our first time was like, or all the other times in between…” Blaine twists in Kurt’s arms to look into his face, not just a man, but his husband, who he doesn’t remember, but who he loves nonetheless. “But I’ll always remember this.”