Blaine looked out the window silently on the very short ride back to Kurt's house. Burt was tapping his thumb absently on the steering wheel, sending Blaine thoughtful glances when he thought he wasn't looking. Why is this man even letting me near his son anymore? Blaine felt dizzy as Burt pulled onto the drive and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Kid?" Burt asked, looking concerned. Apparently, Blaine had blanked out slightly. "You alright there?"

Blaine swallowed thickly and nodded.

"You like you're going to your execution or something. Kurt's not going to kill you, kid."

Really? Blaine thought, because right now it feels like no matter what he says, drawn out and brutal or mercifully quick, I'm going to crumble into a million pieces in the middle of your hallway.

He said nothing out loud, though, just unclicked his own seatbelt and climbed out the truck, eyes on the ground as he followed Burt to the door. It was unlocked so he pushed it open and gestured for Blaine to come in.

"Kurt! I found him!" Burt yelled down the stairs leading to Kurt's room and Blaine was frozen, eyes glued to the carpet as he listened to the unmistakable yelp and then the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. He could just make out Kurt stumbling to a stop out of his peripheral vision and tried to tuck his head impossibly lower so that he couldn't see the skinny-jean clad legs stood a few feet away from him.

"I'll give you kids some privacy, shall I?" Burt said good-naturedly and headed into the sitting room, closing the door behind him. Blaine held his breath, not trusting himself to so much as blink. Knowing him, he'd find a way to mess that up too.

"Would you like to go downstairs?" Kurt asked quietly.
Blaine shrugged.

"I—I just thought it might be a bit more private..." He continued and Blaine wanted to scream at how calm, how matter-of-fact he sounded. He couldn't do this, he needed to get out of here.

"Really, Kurt, this isn't necessary. I know you don't want to see me again. And-and I get it, I really do—"

"What?" Kurt interjected but Blaine ignored him, he had to say this and then he could go.

"—I know I'm a useless jerk who fucks everything up time and time again, but don't worry I'll stay away from now on. I understand. I won't bother you again."

He looked up for the first time to see Kurt still stood a few feet away, mouth open as if surprised. Had he really not expected Blaine to realise this for himself? Had he really thought he'd have to spell it out for Blaine? Mind you, Blaine thought savagely, based on how deluded he'd been the last few days, he supposed it really wasn't surprising that he'd thought that at all.

Kurt was now opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Blaine dropped his eyes back to the floor.

"Don't worry, you don't have to say anything." He continued, using every last bit of strength he possessed to keep his voice expressionless. "I'll say it for you: Goodb—"

Suddenly, Kurt lunged forward and pressed his hand over Blaine's mouth, cutting him off before he'd managed to say the last words. Blaine tried to move his head back slightly, to free his mouth again, but Kurt was having none of it, his fingers pressing more insistently against Blaine's lips. They stared at each other for a moment and then very slowly, Kurt removed his hand, allowing one finger to linger on Blaine's bottom lip, the universal gesture to stay quiet.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed, so quiet that if he hadn't still been stood so close, Blaine wouldn't have heard it. "I told you...I'm never saying goodbye to you."

Blaine blinked and then Kurt's lips were pressing against his own, so soft and warm and earnest, and accompanied by such a flood of emotion that Blaine instantly felt his legs giving way. Luckily, Kurt seemed to sense this and quickly slid an arm round Blaine's waist, supporting most of his weight. God, Blaine had forgotten how incredible it felt, being this close to Kurt, the gorgeous smell of the various moisturisers on his skin, the delicious taste of his tongue as it tenderly flicked inside his mouth. Blaine let out something between a sigh and a strangled moan, not caring that they were still stood in the hallway, not caring that Finn could come lumbering down the stairs at any moment. No, all that mattered was that he was in Kurt's arms and they were kissing, soaking each other in as they poured everything they had into each other's mouths, and Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt. He repeated the name in his head, certain it was his favourite word in the whole world.

After a while, they both pulled back, panting for breath, and Kurt rested his forehead against Blaine's.

"First off, I love you so much," he said, still breathing heavily. "And secondly, you're an absolute idiot, Blaine Anderson!" He swatted at Blaine's arm without any real force.

"I've been telling you that for years; I'm glad you finally agree."

They looked at each other for a second and then both burst out laughing for no real reason. Blaine felt giddy as he clutched onto Kurt's sides, making him laugh harder when it tickled. He ducked his head down onto Kurt's shoulder, gasping for air, yet not caring one bit. Kurt grinned at him, one of his rare genuine smiles that were reserved for only Blaine and Kurt's family. Blaine would never take that smile for granted ever again.

Just then, a phone went off and for a few horrifying seconds when Kurt answered it, Blaine thought it was Adam ringing again and his stomach sank. Kurt seemed to notice Blaine's face harden because he stepped back into his personal space, linking their fingers with his free hand, and mouthed 'Mercedes' at him.

"Hey 'Cedes, what's up?" He asked, rubbing his thumb across Blaine's knuckles in what seemed to be an unconscious gesture. Blaine marvelled silently at how easy it was to sink back into this, to them.

"Uh, I don't really know whether...hang on, I'll just ask..." Kurt covered his phone and looked at Blaine.

"Mercedes wants to know if we want to go to the mall with her and some of the other New Directions—hang out for a few hours? It's ok if you don't want to, we can just stay in..." Kurt said just as Blaine's stomach rumbled loudly.

"No, that sounds good. On one condition," Blaine replied and Kurt raised his eyebrow expectantly. "We have to get food because I-uh-skipped breakfast and I'm pretty sure my stomach is eating itself right now."

Kurt's face instantly fell and he looked horribly guilty. He quickly arranged to meet Mercedes in twenty minutes and ended the call.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I'm meant to be looking after you this weekend and I didn't get you breakfast!" He exclaimed, looking genuinely horrified.

"Kurt, don't worry about it. We were kind of arguing at the time so..." Blaine rushed to reassure him.

"Yeah, about that—"

"We can talk about it later." Blaine cut across, his voice sounding forced even to his own ears. "We'd better get going if we're meeting them in twenty minutes."

"Yeah, I guess. Are you—I mean, I know we haven't, but—are you, like, ok?" Kurt asked, his voice soft and so, so caring.

"Yeah, no, I'm great." Blaine replied far too cheerily, taking his coat off the banister. Kurt looked torn for a moment and then grabbed his coat too, though he was quick to re-lace his hand with Blaine's.

"Ok, well, we better feed you before you completely waste away into nothing then." He patted Blaine's tummy playfully, causing Blaine to squirm away from him, a difficult feat given their linked hands.

Kurt, giggling, led Blaine into the living room just to tell his dad where they were going. Burt either didn't notice or was completely unfazed by their joined hands and closeness. It was unlikely to be the latter as Burt Hummel noticed everything; it was, after all, one of the many attributes that came with being the world's greatest father. He merely nodded and returned to the sporting section of his newspaper.

Kurt didn't drop Blaine's hand until they reached his car and he had to go round to climb into the driver's seat. Blaine instantly missed the warmth and wondered how it was possible to have already become this addicted to Kurt's touches again. He suspected he never really stopped.