"Kurt! Kurt!"

Kurt blinked awake to Blaine's face hovering over his, face crowded with worry. Kurt frowned. "Blaine?" he said, voice thick from sleep. "What it is?"

"Your wings, Kurt!" Blaine said, panicked. Kurt sat up, rubbing his head.

"Wings?" he echoed, stretching them out. He frowned, shifting. Something felt off—

"They're smaller," Carmen said from her place behind Blaine, sounding calmer than her human.�

Kurt twisted his head, staring at them. They�were�smaller, he realized, though it was harder for him to tell. They didn't tower over his shoulder as much, and he could actually stretch them to their full width now—before, he'd had to keep them half-folded to keep from knocking down everything in the room.�

"How," Kurt breathed, beyond surprised. Just yesterday his wings had been their normal size. What on�Earth—

"Why are they getting smaller?" Blaine asked, leaning out of Kurt's personal space and sitting on the floor, staring up at him. "Has this ever happened to an angel before?"

"Not that I know of," Kurt said, a little numb with shock. "I don't know," Kurt muttered. "I don't—This can't be happening." He met Blaine's eyes, on the edge of panic. "Blaine, what if they're shrinking because I'm here? What if this means I can't go home?!"

"I'm sure that's not it," Blaine said, though he sounded uncertain. "There has to be another explanation. Could you change the size of your wings back home?"

"No," Kurt said, shaking his head. "No, the wings we arrive with are the wings we keep. They never grow or shrink, not really."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't know, Kurt," he admitted. "I'll stop by one of the libraries on my way home from errands. Maybe I can find a book that can explain it, or help us understand."

"What would humans know about angel wings?" Kurt snapped, on the edge of disdain. Blaine, however, just grinned at him and Kurt found his irritation evaporating.

"Humans study strange things," he admitted. "I once read a book about the length of a unicorn's horn in comparison to the amount of magic it wields."

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Unicorns are mythical," he said, feeling like he was pointing out the obvious. "What does it matter?"

Blaine laughed. "Angels are supposedly mythical too," he pointed out. "And we just—I don't know. We want to know things, I guess."

Kurt shook his head. "Humans are so strange," he murmured.

Blaine hesitated, then reached out to grip his hand. "I promise we'll figure this out, Kurt," he said. Kurt's eyes fixed on him and he smiled.�

"I believe you," he said, full of faith. Blaine's heart fluttered and it was all he could do not to swear aloud.

-

They spent a week pouring over the books Blaine got from the library. There wasn't much in them—most theologists were more interested in angelic history than their wings. Blaine was frustrated by that, but it helped when Kurt pointed out with a drawling sarcasm the mistakes in their histories and their interpretations.�

"I don't know how to help him," Blaine muttered to Carmen as he lugged another set of books up the stairs.

"I think we are," Carmen said. "He smiles at you a lot when he thinks you're not looking." Blaine flushed.

"None of these guys know anything worthwhile, though," Blaine said, glancing down at his books. "They're all�and the angel Gabriel did this�or�and Zachariah did that. Who cares? I just want to know what would make an angel's wings shrink, is that too much to ask?"

Carmen huffed. "It could be exposure," she suggested. "It didn't start until he'd been here for a while."

Blaine groaned. They'd gone over this before. "It can't be," he said, resigned. "He said his brothers and sisters have travelled here and stayed long, and they all kept their wing size."

"Maybe because their wings were hidden?" Carmen said. "Maybe that protected them."

"I don't think so. But we can't know for sure unless we talk to someone who�does�know what he's talking about. I wish we knew just�one�theologist who cared more about angel wings than the great deeds of archangels—"

"Hang on," Carmen said, tail wagging excitedly. "Hang on—Look through your books. There's one in there by Suzie Pepper."

Blaine frowned and set his books on the ground, digging through them. Sure enough, he had a slim, dark volume labelled�Fringe Studies of Theology and Philosophy. "I don't remember picking this one up," he murmured, flipping through it.

Carmen bared her teeth in a doggy smile. "I threw it in your pile."

"Good dog," Blaine said, smiling at bit at her warning nip against his ankle. "This might help, actually. Nothing about archangels in here." He flipped to the back.

Suzie Pepper, to Blaine's disappointment, lived in Australia, where she owned, unsurprisingly, a restaurant that specialized in all things pepper. However, her co-author Emma Pillsbury lived in New York, according to the biography. Blaine bit his lip, wondering if he could get her exact address. Her name sounded vaguely familiar to him, but the stranger theories of theologists tended to make the papers, so it was possible that—

Blaine's eyes widened and he took off for his room at a run, leaving the books behind. Carmen sped after him, yipping. When he raced into the bedroom, Kurt looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise.

"Blaine?" he asked, standing. "What is—"

"I think I know somebody who can help," Blaine said, shoving the book into Kurt's hands. "She helped write this, she lives in New York and I think I can get her address."

Kurt frowned down at the book and started flipping through it. "Oh?" he asked. "From who?"

"I think the Master knows her," Blaine said, explanation rushing out too fast. "I thought I recognized her name and then I remembered seeing it in the address box Master keeps in his study." The box was full of index cards of peoples' names, businesses, addresses. The Master had Blaine go through it periodically to update and re-organize it. He was�sure�he'd seen an Emma Pillsbury in there.

"Do you think she can help?" Kurt asked, biting his lip.�

"I think she might have an answer," Blaine said. "We don't have to tell her about you, if you don't want, I could just say it's some sort of theoretical problem—"

"No," Kurt said, staring down at the book. "No, if you find out where she lives, I'll go with you. She might be able to give us more details if she actually knows what she's dealing with." Kurt smiled, a little bitterly. "Besides, my wings are small enough now that I can hide them under a coat."

"Kurt—" Blaine tried, reaching for his hand.�

Kurt waved him off. "No, it's fine. Go see if you can find her address."

Blaine eyed him carefully, but left moments later with a sigh to try and break into his Master's office.

-

Dr. Emma Pillsbury lived in a small, tidy house on one of the less crowded areas of the city. Blaine knocked at her door three times, casting furtive looks at Kurt, who looked rather suspicious with his trench coat and glasses. It took a moment, but Blaine could hear light footsteps approaching before the door opened.

Dr. Pillsbury was taller than Blaine but significantly thinner, with a bob of dark red hair and wide, startled brown eyes. She was dressed plainly, in a floral print skirt and a yellow blouse, and she smiled with confusion upon seeing them on her doorstep. On her shoulder was her d�mon, a bright red cardinal with dark, beady eyes.�

"Hello?" she said. "How can I help you?" Her eyes darted over to Kurt and she frowned, some of her friendliness fading.

"My friend needs your help," Blaine admitted, deciding to get straight to the point. "Do you think we could come inside to discuss this?"

Dr. Pillsbury bit her lip, looking between them. "I suppose," she said doubtfully. "As long as you boys don't mean to cause any trouble."

"We promise," Blaine said, mustering as much sincerity as he could. Dr. Pillsbury relaxed immediately and Blaine was, not for the first time, glad for what Santana called his�fucking puppy eyes and weird boyish charm�which got so many people to relax in his presence.�

Dr. Pillsbury ushered them inside and attempted to take Kurt's coat. "No need," Kurt told her softly and, after a strange look, she didn't push the issue.

She led them through her house and into the living room, where everything, to Blaine's surprise, was spotless and almost bare. She had two couches and a coffee table for furniture, but there was little else in the room excluding a few nature portraits on the wall.�

Dr. Pillsbury sat on one of the couches and offered the other to them. "So what does your friend need help with?" she asked, curious eyes roaming towards Kurt. Blaine resisted the urge to bundle Kurt behind him—Kurt didn't need his protection, especially not from this woman.

"You ready?" he asked Kurt, who shrugged.

"As I'll ever be," he said and tugged off the trench coat.

For a moment, all Dr. Pillsbury could was stare. Her mouth hung open, her eyes bugged, and Blaine very nearly laughed.�

"You—You—"�

Kurt cringed, apparently prepared for the worst.

"I�knew�it!" Dr. Pillsbury exclaimed, fist in the air. Blaine and Kurt stared at her and she lowered her fist, blushing. "I mean, uh—I knew that angels walked among us, that's all. That's what you are, correct? An angel?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he said, clear and crisp. "Though I didn't expect you'd believe me so easily."

"Wings," she said. "And your eyes just changed color."

Kurt blushed. "They do that sometimes," he admitted, a bit uneasily.�

"Besides, I've been waiting for one of your kind to come to my doorstep for a long time." Dr. Pillsbury looked him over and her eyes softened. "How long have you been here?"

"Nearly a month," Kurt muttered, staring at his knees.�

"I'm guessing this young man has been protecting you?" she asked, turning to Blaine. "May I get your names?"

"I'm Blaine," Blaine said. "I found Kurt in an alley a few weeks ago and brought him home. I didn't quite expect him to be an angel, obviously."

"Obviously," Dr. Pillsbury agreed with a smile. She turned back to Kurt. "Is there a reason you've come to see me? I can't say I'm not delighted—oh, I have so many question!—but I imagine you've stayed in hiding for a reason."

Kurt's face hardened. "It's my wings," he said quietly. "They're shrinking."

Silence. Realization dawned on Dr. Pillsbury, slow and sure. "Oh," she muttered. "Oh, dear." She glanced at Blaine, then looked back at Kurt. Blaine frowned when he noticed she was blushing. "Kurt, may I speak to you alone for a moment?"

Kurt frowned, looked at Blaine, a clear question in his eyes. Blaine shrugged. "I suppose," Kurt said, standing to follow Dr. Pillsbury out of the door. Blaine waited a minute then hurried to the door, trying to ignore the surge of guilt.�

"—as far as I know, this phenomenon only happens for one reason," Dr. Pillsbury was saying. Blaine pressed his ear more tightly against the door. "Angels who fall lose their wings, Kurt. And angels fall for one of two reasons—"

"Hate," Kurt finished for her, voice full of disbelief, "or love."

Blaine's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Yes," Dr. Pillsbury agreed. "I assume it's not the first, so—"

"It's not," Kurt said, sounding dazed. "Oh Father, it's not." Silence reigned and Blaine withdrew back to the couch before they came back out. His heart was racing.

Did that mean what he thought it did? Hate or love, and Kurt said it wasn't for hate. What did that mean? Had Kurt found someone else, or was he in love with—

The door opened and Blaine looked up and met Kurt's eyes. They were a hazy grey-blue and his mouth was turned in a tight frown. Blaine's heart tightened at the thought of him, Dr. Pillsbury's voice in his ears:�hate or love, hate or love�and Kurt's whisper of�it's not.

He loves me,�Blaine thought as Kurt sat down beside him, shoulder pressing against Blaine's.�He hasn't even talked to anyone else, he loves me, he loves me, he—

"I hope that cleared up everything for you," Dr. Pillsbury said, looking between them awkwardly.

"Yes," Kurt said, voice faint. "I think it did."

She softened a bit. "Kurt, if you wouldn't mind answering some questions I have?"

"No, of course not," Kurt said, voice stronger this time.�

Blaine listened with half an ear as they talked, Dr. Pillsbury asking question after question as Kurt answered in his soft, quiet voice. His head was ringing and it was hard for him to think beyond�he loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

-

They spent the next few days in near silence. Blaine had tried to talk to Kurt when they got back from Dr. Pillsbury's, but Kurt had just stared at him, stony and quiet, and Blaine had given up. For the next few days, the only words they exchanged were pleasantries.

It was driving Blaine insane.

He noticed every time Kurt watched him out of the corner of his eye, but whenever he turned, Kurt was facing the other way. He noticed whenever Kurt's wings shrunk a little more and his heart thundered, but he couldn't speak past the dryness in his throat.

"Talk to him!" Carmen muttered one night when Kurt was asleep and Blaine was staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

"How?" Blaine asked her with a sigh.

"Tell him how you feel," Carmen said, huffing as she prodded him in the chest with her paw. "It's not that hard, Blaine, you do it all the time!"

"But this time it's different!" Blaine protested and Carmen paused.�

"That's why it's more important," she whispered. "You need to tell him. What if he goes back home without warning?"

Blaine curled in on himself. Where before Kurt's departure was a horrible inevitability, now it was the end of Blaine's world. He didn't want Kurt to go home—he couldn't survive Kurt going home and leaving Blaine behind. But that was selfish of him. Whatever his feelings were for Blaine, Kurt probably still longed for his home, for his brothers and sister, as he called them.

"You don't know that," Carmen said, reading his thoughts as easily as ever. "Maybe he's changed his mind. Maybe he'll stay now because he has us."

Blaine ran a hand over her head. "I don't think so," he muttered. "It's his�home, Carmen. How can I ask him to stay for me? If he loses his wings, he can't go back, you know that."

Carmen's ears drooped. "But we love him," she muttered against Blaine's chest.

"Yeah," Blaine said, heart aching. It wasn't enough.

-

Kurt stared down at his hands. Blaine was out, running his errands for the day and Kurt was alone. It was strange, being without Blaine—he'd become so used to the other boy's presence that his absence felt like a physical ache.

And yet you want to go back home, where you'll be without him until he dies,�a voice in the back of his head muttered. Kurt sighed.

He'd already suspected what Dr. Pillsbury had told him—every angel knew that there were two emotions strong enough to lose wings over, they'd been told it since they came to heaven. Hate, the emotion that felled Lucifer and his followers, and love, the emotion that could make even the strongest angels fall. There had been stories of angels who had fallen in love with humans, so much so that they renounced their ties to heaven and lived another human life in their vessel, their wings gone. Kurt had just thought them to be myths until—

Until his own wings started shrinking, and not because he'd suddenly started hating his Father.

Kurt curled in on himself. He was in love with Blaine. Enough so that his wings had started to disappear, bit by bit. They shrunk a little bit more each day and there was nothing Kurt could do to stop but—

Fall out of love with Blaine.

Kurt laughed at the idea. How could he? Blaine was generous to a fault, kind, and ridiculously handsome. He treated Kurt like he was something precious, got angry on his behalf. How was he supposed to fall out of love with someone like that?�

If you don't want your angels to fall, don't create such good humans,�he told his Father, wondering if He'd even hear Kurt. Probably not.

He closed his eyes and thought of home—sunlit clouds, the soft strains of music. Angels milling about, gossiping, full of warmth and welcome. They were his brothers and sisters, they�were, but it was so hard to imagine going back and not turning around to see Blaine's smiling face wherever he went. To think about how long he'd have to live without Blaine, to wait for him. Kurt thought he could do it, but what if Blaine forgot about him during his human life? What if he came to heaven and looked at Kurt with blank, unrecognizing eyes?

Kurt didn't think he could bear it.

But what was the other option? To stay on Earth, to live as a human for another lifetime? What would he do? He had no family, no one but Blaine to vouch for him. He knew nothing but farming that was probably three hundred years out of date. If he stayed, he'd rely on Blaine for everything from money to a place to live. Could he ask that much of Blaine? Kurt didn't know if he could even let himself be helped that much. It nagged on him enough already, how much Blaine was doing for him without anything in return.

And, of course, there was the question of if Blaine even loved him back.

Kurt shrunk into himself. What if Blaine didn't? His heart was breaking just at the thought, could he handle Blaine rejecting him in person?

The door opened and Kurt flinched back as Blaine strode in, food tucked under one arm as Carmen trotted at his heels as normal. Blaine froze when he saw Kurt staring at him, then offered a small, tentative smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to touch Kurt's shoulder. "You look pale."

Kurt stared up at his wide eyes, the heavy sweep of his eyebrows, the curl of his dark hair. He'd never wanted anything like he wanted this human, he suddenly realized. And he'd never want anything more than him after this.�

"I love you," he blurted out.

Time froze. Blaine's hand tightened on his shoulder, warm and heavy, and Kurt could feel the blood rushing to his face. His hands were shaking.

"I love you too," Blaine said finally and it was all Kurt could do not to faint on the spot.

Blaine took a seat next to Kurt on the bed. He fidgeted a bit, looking nervous.

"I was listening at the door when you talked to Dr. Pillsbury," he admitted and Kurt's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Is that—" he started, but Blaine waved a hand.

"That's not why," he admitted, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, that's when I�realized�for sure, but—" He huffed, relaxing a bit. "Kurt, sometimes you meet certain people and one day you look at them and realize—ah, that's the person I've been searching for forever. That's how I feel, with you." Blaine turned bright eyes to Kurt's face, lips curled in a half-smile. "You move me, Kurt. More than anyone I've ever met."

Kurt was staring, he knew, but he couldn't stop. Blaine's face was inching closer to his, so slow and careful that it made Kurt's heart ache. "May I?" he asked, when his lips were inches from Kurt's. Kurt, without thinking about it, nodded slightly. He glimpsed Blaine's smile before Blaine's lips covered his own in a soft, chaste kiss.�

Before Blaine could pull away, Kurt gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in closer. Blaine made a noise against Kurt's mouth—a protest or a moan, Kurt couldn't tell—and Kurt slipped his tongue in, sneaky and quick as a cat. Languidly, he curled it around Blaine's, smiling a bit when he felt Blaine shiver.�

They pulled apart after a moment, staring at each other. "Kurt," Blaine said, eyes widening, "Kurt, your—"

Kurt turned, already knowing that his wings would be gone. The air behind his head was clear of feathers: instead, behind his back there stood a small cat, black with yellow stripes across it's belly and nose. It had bright blue eyes.�

Kurt knew its name without asking. "Pavarotti," he said aloud, testing it out.

The cat smiled at him. "Hello, my human," she purred, touching Kurt's back with her small, dark nose. "So nice to see you again."

Kurt lifted her up—she was smaller than average and light, but warm in his hands. She touched her nose to his cheek.�

"Kurt," Blaine said, on the edge of awe. "Kurt is that—"

"Blaine," Kurt said, giddiness rising in him. "Meet Pavarotti. My d�mon." Pavarotti purred loudly, touched her nose to Kurt's cheek one more time, then leapt out of his hands and landed near Carmen. They stared at each other for a long moment before Carmen moved forward and rested her head on top of Pavarotti's. Pavarotti began to purr again.

"Oh my God," Blaine said. Kurt looked at him and smiled. "Kurt, you have—your d�mon—oh my God."

"It looks like I'm staying," Kurt said and kissed Blaine again.

-

Kurt dreamt.

He was home again, amongst the clouds, but he knew he wasn't really there. There was a haze at the edge of his vision, like he was slowly going unconscious, and he realized that he was dreaming.�

"Kurt," the Voice said behind him, and Kurt turned.

The Voice took on the face of a young man with a rakishly handsome face, dark eyes and dark hair. "Hello," Kurt said. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

The Voice nodded. "It was the easiest way to get in contact with you," he said.�

Kurt's indignation rose. "And you didn't think to do that weeks ago when I was stranded on Earth without any idea of how to get home?" he asked crossly.

The Voice smiled. "That's how we wanted you to be."

Kurt stared at him. "Explain," he said, voice hard.

The Voice shrugged. Kurt finally noticed his wings, arching high over his head. For a moment he felt a pang of longing for the security of his own wings, but then he remembered Pav and Blaine and Carmen and the feeling eased. He didn't need them anymore.

"If you had known what to do, you would never have stayed with your human," the Voice explained. Kurt stiffened. It was odd to hear him talking of Blaine, two worlds colliding without prior notice. "And He wanted you to stay there with him."

"Why?" Kurt asked. "I don't—I'm glad I have this chance, but why give it to me?"

The Voice stared at him for a moment. "There are times when an angel's happiness can only be found on Earth," he said at last. "He sends them back down for that."

"Does it matter to Him that much?" Kurt asked, a little bewildered.

The Voice inclined his head. "The happiness of His children is all He's ever wanted," he said. "It's time for me to go. You're waking up."

"Why leave me with wings?" Kurt demanded before the Voice could fade. Already the world around them was dissipating.�

The Voice smiled, a touch rueful. "Easier to tell when you were in love, wasn't it?" he asked, then disappeared.

Kurt woke and stared at the ceiling. Blaine was curled into his side, fast asleep, and their d�mons rested nearby, tumbled on top of each other. He was wingless, achingly human again, but he smiled and slowly closed his eyes.�

When fell back asleep, he did not dream again.