"Holy shit, dude! You two are on the T.V.!"

A sharp whack against the headboard of Blaine's bed the following morning woke him with a jolt, Kurt slipping sideways off his chest as he shot into a sitting position and squinted around. Puck was sitting on the foot of his bed, sliding his jacket on over his tank top as he finished zipping up his workout bag. Blaine glanced sleepily at the clock and noted that they both had places to be in another hour. He had training all day for his final match tomorrow night and Kurt had his own final competition to prepare for later in the evening.

"Dude, seriously, look!" Puck demanded, kicking the foot of Blaine's bed and causing Kurt to groan in frustration.

"Sod off, Puckerman," he growled, burying his face under the pillows next to Blaine, but Blaine was awake now. He blinked at the television screen, glowing a pale blue in the still dark bedroom and saw it was flipped to a news station. That surprised Blaine considering Puck was the one who had turned it on, but he decided not to ask as he watched the screen flip from the news casters to a reel of footage.

A far shot of the Olympic diving pool came on screen, and without seeing a second more Blaine knew what it was of. Sure enough Kurt and himself were zoomed in on a few seconds later relaxing back against the pool's edge and nuzzling. He couldn't tell if it was in the middle of their sexual encounter or not and thankfully it didn't look like it was very obvious since there was no sound and Kurt's face was mostly hidden from view.

The new casters came back on a moment later, smiling brightly.

"They're the big talk of this Olympics," the man said, turning towards his co-anchor. "No idea what their plans are for their future, but I for one would certainly like to see both of them back in 2016, still together and going strong."

"There's already sponsor talk of keeping them both around if they're willing," the woman beside him added. "Hummel is the only British diver to medal so far in a solo competition, and he's set to gain another this evening. Anderson's outshone all of his American boxing companions from the last five summer Olympics. He and Noah Puckerman are both set to fight their gold medal matches tomorrow evening, and if they win they'll be the first American men to medal gold in boxing in over two decades."

The station changed over to the weather after that, Puck watching and then cheering when it was announced that their last few days in London would be nice, sunny days. Blaine yawned and stretched, rolling towards Kurt and slipping an arm around the other man's bare chest.

"Wake up, babe," he mumbled sleepily, nudging Kurt's head with his nose. "It's almost six. You've got to meet with your team soon."

Kurt grumbled miserably and buried himself deeper into the bed, ignoring Blaine's insistent nudges. Sighing, Blaine sat up and decided to get dressed and ready before hauling Kurt from the warm bed.

"I'm gonna head down and grab some food," Puck told him as he shouldered his bag and opened the door. "You want me to grab you something and take it over to the gym?"

"Yeah, thanks," Blaine said, starting to dress as Puck left. Kurt continued to doze on the bed while he pulled on a pair of workout shorts, socks, and an old, stretched out tank top. He toed his shoes on, still yawning and stretching every few minutes before heading into the bed to comb his hair and brush his teeth.

The sun was starting to peek through the blinds when he returned to find Kurt curled into a ball now, blankets looped around him like a burrito. Chuckling softly Blaine plopped down on the bed and unrolled him, ignoring Kurt's protests and smacking hands.

"Hey, stop... stop! It's time to get up, pretty boy," Blaine murmured, bending down and giving him a kiss. "At least wake up enough to let me wish you good luck at your final."

"What?" Kurt groaned and popped up a blurry eye, scowling up at him under his tousled bangs. " 's too early."

"It's always too early for you these days," Blaine grinned, poking Kurt in the cheek playfully.

His finger was smacked roughly and he laughed and tugged Kurt back towards him as the other man attempted to roll away.

"Hey, come on," he insisted, leaning down and pressing another kiss to Kurt's lips. "You're going to be fantastic today. I can't wait to hear all about it tonight."

"Now that you've said that I'm going to lose," Kurt pouted, jutting his lower lip out enough to press it against Blaine's.

"Will not," Blaine argued, nipping the offered lip and giving it a soft swipe with his tongue. "You're going to be amazing because you are amazing. And then after you've told me all about your win we'll have our own fun celebration back here."

Kurt's eyebrows rose at his words, a slow smile spreading over his face as his eyes drifted closed again. "Oh? Sounds like we're going to need to lock Puck out tonight."

"I doubt he'll come back tonight anyway," Blaine told him. "Night before a match means he's out getting laid for luck."

"Guess you'll be getting the same treatment, huh?" Kurt said slyly.

"Pretty sure I'll be doing the laying tonight, Mr. Hummel," Blaine quipped teasingly. He kissed Kurt once more, long and more passionately, before sitting back up. "Good luck, Kurt, you're going to do great."

"Thanks," Kurt whispered, dropping back into the pillows. "I love you. Don't hurt Puck too much today."

"I'll try not to," Blaine agreed, standing up. "I love you, too. See you tonight."

The rest of the day dragged on for Blaine. His training session was set for ten hours, though by noon he felt like he'd been inside the small gym for over a week. His family had opted to go see Kurt in his final competition, both to support Blaine's boyfriend and to keep him updated about how Kurt was doing in the standings.

However, Wes was having none of his phone breaks or checks today. After his victory last night some sort of crazed zealous had taken over his old classmate and now his phone was turned off and tucked into Wes's pocket, where it would stay until they were finished at five o'clock that evening. Annoyed at being denied access to his boyfriend's progress Blaine was heavy handed, pounding harder, but a little less focused than usual because of his anxiety about Kurt's competition.

Wes still grilled him like he was a machine, though, running him through exercises upwards of fifty times before he was satisfied that Blaine was on the mark. They took a late break for lunch and to start running through some footage of his final opponent for tomorrow evening's match. Sapiyev was from Kazakhstan, slightly taller than himself and built similarly to Kurt, though his features were nothing like Kurt's soft but angular lines. The other man was a tough opponent, and for once Blaine was facing someone with over five years of more experience than him. Sapiyev already had a number of titles and wins under his belt, and had ranked fifth at Beijing four years ago. He'd been a force to be reckoned with since the start of the series, and if Blaine was going to stand a chance he had to learn his style fast.

"All right, he's been favoring this move," Wes paused the screen and pointed out the other man's position. "It's gotten him the upper hand in his last three fights. If you keep moving you'll stand a good chance, let him wear himself down and come to you."

"That's not much of a plan," Blaine said flatly, still watching as Wes hit play once more. "I'm just winging it?"

"There's really not a lot of time for this one, and I think you can handle it," Wes admitted. "He's a tough one, and really it should be a low point match as long as you wait. I imagine he'll do the same. Whoever drops their patience first will lose."

"Right," Blaine said wearily, eyeing the outline of his phone in Wes's pocket. His fingers itched to knock the other man down and grab it. "Because we both know how good I am at that."

"Hey, you've gone almost ten hours without your phone I think– ouch, Blaine!"

Wes toppled off his chair as Blaine grappled for his phone, powering it on and dancing out of Wes's reach as he waited for it to start flashing with the messages he knew were waiting.

Almost immediately his phone began buzzing with seventeen new text messages, making Blaine bounce and hop in excitement.

"I bet he won," Blaine blabbered as Wes climbed to his feet, rubbing his side and wincing. "It's his best event."

"Or he was as overconfident as you are about him winning and he lost," Wes grumbled, still rubbing his side. "I'm going to bruise."

"He– don't say things like that!" Blaine scolded. "He wouldn't lose... "

"Dunno, aren't the Chinese really great at diving?"

Blaine swallowed nervously, his thumb pausing over the button that would open the first message from his brother. WEs was right of course. He'd heard that from all of Kurt's team mates and Kurt himself. The Chinese had dominated for he didn't even know how long. Heart sinking at the thought, Blaine opened the first message, forgetting that it would be the most recently sent.

Cooper (4:43 P.M.): HE FUCKING WON! WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME, BLAINEY?

Cooper (4:39 P.M.): BLAINEY YOUR BOY WON! And I think Burt is crying. He's bellowing about how Kurt's his boy, but I think he is.

"He– oh my god!" Blaine shouted, leaping into the air and squealing through his teeth.

"He won?" Wes guessed, starting to smile as Blaine nodded and flipped through the rest of the messages from his brother, talking him through the finer points of the competition and telling him how Kurt had scored for each dive.

"I can't believe– I knew he'd win, but still– "

"Oh, go on," Wes sighed, pushing him towards the door. "There's really nothing else for us to do at this point. Just get a good night's rest. Don't spend all night having sex with Kurt, and try to relax and focus. You've been incredible this entire tournament," Wes added. "I'm really proud of how far you've come."

Still staring at the last message from Cooper, Blaine smiled earnestly and finally looked up at Wes. "Thanks, that means a lot coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah, now get," Wes ordered, shooing him. "You've only got a few days left until we fly out, so... enjoy it. Don't let him get away."

"I won't," Blaine promised, pushing the door open to the little room they watched footage in. "He's it, Wes. I can feel it."

All smiles and excitement, Blaine rushed back to his building in Olympic Park after calling Kurt to congratulate him. He showered and changed quickly, then went to meet his boyfriend, Burt, and his family at a small restaurant a few blocks away from Olympic Park. The dinner was nice by all of Blaine's standards, boisterous and excited since everyone was still thrilled with Kurt's successful day. They stayed for a while, eating their way through several courses and half a dozen bottles of wines before calling it an early night so that "Blaine could repeat Kurt's day tomorrow".

The idea behind his father's words should have made him nervous, but somehow his own event didn't seem quite as impressive or daunting after Kurt's win. Kurt and Blaine said goodbye to everyone at the restaurant, promising to see them tomorrow evening for Blaine's final fight, before they headed back to Olympic Village and holed up in Blaine's room once again.

"I still can't believe it," Kurt gushed as Blaine closed the door and stepped up behind him. "I didn't think– it was so close and– "

"You were unbelievable," Blaine assured him, hands dropping to Kurt's hips and beginning to rub slow, firm circles into the fabric over them.

"According to your brother," Kurt quipped, relaxing back into his embrace and smiling serenely. "I don't think he's a very reliable source when it comes to commentating on a diving competition."

"Well your win made your dad cry, so I'm going to say Cooper was spot on," Blaine murmured, hooking his thumbs under the band of Kurt's shorts and Speedo and starting to work them down his hips.

"I think you're about to be spot on," Kurt giggled, arching back against him as his shorts and Speedo slipped down his thighs. "Oh, I'm going to miss this so much."

Blaine's hands paused at the reminder, heart thumping painfully at the thought of sleeping alone after tomorrow night. It made his stomach churn to realize he'd most likely be unable to sleep peaceful or at all without Kurt's warm body snuggled against his. If anything he'd cry himself to sleep because of the ache already settling in his chest.

Kurt spun around in his arms, obviously catching onto his distress since his hands had paused and he'd tensed behind him. Instead of acknowledging their impending departure, however, Kurt smiled sweetly and began unzipping his jacket.

"You're very overdressed for a hot, pleasurable night spent in bed with your lover, Mr. Anderson," Kurt murmured sultrily, running his hands slowly back up Blaine's chest and then pushing the jacket off his shoulders, letting his fingers linger on the collar of Blaine's shirt as he dragged the jacket down his arms. "We wouldn't want you to overheat while I'm loving you."

"No, of course not," Blaine agreed, allowing Kurt to drop his jacket to the floor around his ankles and start working his jeans loose. He felt the button pop open and then the zipper press in and drag down against his cock, already starting to grow harder. "We'd get nothing accomplished tonight if I did."

"Oh, I don't know," Kurt teased, unbuttoning Blaine's shirt slowly and kissing each newly revealed inch of skin. Blaine shivered and arched his chest forward, encouraging Kurt to start sucking roughly as he worked his mouth lower. "I think we could get quite a bit done if we warm you up just right."

"Mmm," Blaine sighed, eyes drifting closed as Kurt sunk down to his knees, mouth sucking gently over his navel as his fingers dipped into the band of his boxers and brushed over the skin there.

Blaine inhaled sharply as Kurt's teeth scraped against his skin, tugging and sucking as he pushing his jeans and boxers down his hips a few inches, revealing the top of his ass, which was promptly squeezed and kneaded purposefully.

"K- Kurt," Blaine groaned, thrusting his hips forward against Kurt's mouth and threading his fingers into his hair.

Kurt hummed against his navel, alternating between nuzzling and sucking at the skin as his fingers slowly pushed Blaine's jeans and boxers down, taking his time and working Blaine into an aroused state as he kissed and nipped. Finally, when his knees were shaking and Kurt's wet, slightly swollen lips were creating dizzying swipes lower and lower his boxers finally slide down over his erection, joining his jeans around his ankles. He sprung free, pressing up against Kurt's throat as the other man grinned against his skin and scraped his teeth over the soft skin a few inches above his cock.

"Look how excited you are," Kurt teased, tilting his chin down and catching the head of Blaine's cock between his chin and throat. Blaine whimpered, hips jerking, as Kurt have him a coy, mischievous little smile and ran his fingers over the outline of his lower abdominal muscle. "Such a fine, prepared man," Kurt continued, fingers rubbing and mouth sucking. The sensations made Blaine's stomach flip, his skin tingling with want.

"Fuck, ride me," Blaine requested, hand groping for the bed to steady himself. Kurt moaned at his suggestion, helping him to step out of his pants and climb onto the bed. Kurt was quick to join him after finding a condom and a bottle of lube, already slicking his fingers up as he climbed into Blaine's lap at the head of the bed.

"Love you," Kurt murmured, kissing him fiercely as he angled their cocks together and started rolling his hips. They both groaned at the sensation as Blaine took hold of Kurt's lubed fingers and guided them back to his hole, encouraging him to start working himself open as Blaine peppered his chest and neck with rough kisses.

As Kurt gasped and arched against his chest, Blaine continued to place kisses were he could, listening to the sounds of his boyfriend working his ass open as his mind wandered back to what Kurt had said earlier. He was going to miss this, miss these shared, beautiful moments with Kurt so much once he left London Friday afternoon. Never in his life had he imagined sex could feel or be like this, but he'd never found himself falling in love either. His life had changed with one encounter and now that it had, he didn't know how he was ever going to go back to California and fall back into his old, lifeless routine. Now that he'd found someone who made him feel alive he couldn't just pretend he wasn't any longer, but without this constant companion and the little bursts and leaps Kurt's presence put into his heart's rhythm he didn't see how he could do anything more than be miserable. Or pretend he was overjoyed with his life of solitude while he longed for man who had brought love into his life.

It was Kurt's thumbs brushed away his tears that made Blaine aware of his crying. He glanced up as Kurt, finding Kurt was finished prepping himself and his cock had already been covered with a condom and lube.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Blaine choked out, accepting a tearful kiss from Kurt as he was lined up with Kurt's hole and pushed down on.

Groaning, Kurt claimed his mouth more greedily, sinking down on his cock as they both sniffled, tears running down their cheeks.

"It's not goodbye," Kurt promised as he slowly began rocking in Blaine's lap. "That is one word I am never saying to you."

As Kurt moved a little more surely on his cock, his rhythm still slow and steady, Blaine caught his head between his hands, pressing their foreheads together. He was surprised to find himself already teetering on the edge of his orgasm, but all of his emotions were in a whirlwind as he caught Kurt's gaze and held it as they rocked.

"Marry me," he murmured, barely aware of what he was requesting as Kurt squeezed around him, the slide tight, hot, and perfect. Blaine groaned as his orgasm crested in his belly, seeing Kurt's surprised look before he leaned in and kissed him, swallowing the loud moan he'd released.

Kurt whined high in his throat as he continued to move, panting in Blaine's lap as his fist closed around his cock, bumping against their stomachs as he frantically moved to join Blaine's heavy-limbed bliss. After his neck Blaine continued to breathe heavily, still repeating the same words he'd just spoken as he kissed and bite the warm, sweaty flesh.

With a gasp and shudder, Kurt collapsed against his chest, his come coating Blaine's stomach as he sunk backwards and stilled. They were both silent for a long time, regaining control of their breathing as Blaine started to panic about what he'd just asked. It was way too soon for that. As far as he was aware it wasn't even legal for them to get married England. The same could be said for roughly ninety-five percent of his country. Kurt was going to freak out on him and back out of all of this right now. Or maybe he'd panic like Blaine was right now, but pretend everything was fine and then cut off contact once Blaine left Friday.

"Okay," Kurt rasped, interrupting Blaine's terrible train of thought as he pecked his cheek and snuggled up close. "As soon as we both live together in a place that allows it, I'll marry you."

"I– you– I wasn't– that was stupid– "

"It was unexpected," Kurt admitted, "but I think I want that with you some day. If we can make this distance work for however long it's a factor, and as long as I always feel so free when I'm in love with you, then I want us to last. I want that commitment made between us, even if it's never in a legal sense."

"Y- you– really?" Blaine said in amazement, staring down at the top of Kurt's head in wonder. "You're not, like, freaked out that a guy you've only known two weeks just asked you to marry him while you were riding his dick?"

"You were speaking from the heart, and you aren't just any guy, Blaine," Kurt shrugged against him, fingers tracing gently around one of Blaine's nipples. "You're my guy and tomorrow you're going to be an Olympic champion just like me."

His stomach clenched at the thought of his match, but Blaine grunted in what he hoped sounded like agreement and groped for the blankets.

"You will," Kurt assured him, smiling against his collarbone and pinching his nipple teasingly. "If I can do it, then so can you."

Blaine threw the blanket over them, hugging Kurt to his side and closing his eyes. He didn't really agree with the sentiment since his fight was bound to be grueling, but it was incredibly comforting to have such a steady vote of confidence.

Thursday dawned bright and loud. Puck came into the room shortly after sunrise, singing and dancing and quite obviously pleased with himself. Blaine had thrown his extra pillow at his roommate and then burrowed down under the blankets with Kurt, intent on spending as much of the day as he could lying in bed.

He dozed back off after Puck made a loud exit from the bathroom an hour later, waking once more when the room was warm and filled with sunlight. Kurt was lying against him, eyes open, watching him sleep. They agreed to spend the day in bed, snuggling and talking about anything and everything that came to mind. Phones were switched off, and they just lounged together, saying the random thoughts that appeared in their heads and asking each other a thousand different questions they had yet to speak. It was pleasant and relaxing for Blaine, spending time like this and learning so much about Kurt and his likes, hopes, and wishes.

By late afternoon they were both starving. Kurt insisted that they get up, eat something, and then get him over to the arena for his pre-fight preparations with Wes. It was a struggle for Kurt to pull him out of bed, but Blaine finally relented and got up, joining the other man for a long, hot shower and then heading down to the cafeteria set up in Olympic Village. He ate well, careful about what he chose since his fight was only a few hours away, and by the time he was finished he had just enough time to get to the arena before his scheduled time. Kurt left him at the door, wishing him luck once more.

Blaine didn't know what Kurt's plans were until the event ended, though he figured the other man would most likely catch the beginning of the televised closing ceremonies that started soon. Blaine would miss almost the entire thing because of his final match, but he honestly didn't mind. Standing around and waiting to parade around was very boring for him and it meant that win or lose, the real partying would start after his match was finished.

"You ready?" Wes greeted as he entered the locker room to suit up.

Blaine shrugged, stomach a jumble of nerves despite all the training and words of encouragement he'd had from Kurt. This was it. An hour from now he would be in the ring, facing his last opponent of the London Olympics, and if he lost he may never make it back again. Tonight might be his only chance at a gold medal, and while silver would still be incredible, he'd come all this way to win. He'd wanted to prove to himself, his father, and anyone who had ever hit him as a boy that he could do this, despite his sexuality and his struggles, he wasn't less than any other man in the ring.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Blaine decided, opening his designated locker and pulling out his red uniform. Last time he'd worn blue, but tonight he was set to wear red. He hoped that meant something good for him, and that he wasn't wearing red so that his blood blended into the fabric better.

"You've trained for years for this moment," Wes said calmly as Blaine started to change. "I have every confidence that you'll end tonight with a gold medal."

"Wes, I don't know– "

His face was suddenly grabbed and tugged around until he was looking Wes right in the eye.

"You can do this," Wes told him sternly. "Ever since I first met you as kids I knew there was something special about you. Back then I thought it was the singing and leading the Warblers, but then I saw you fight and I knew you'd go places with that. You have overcome so much since you were bullied in middle school, and I might not have known that boy, but I know you now and he is so proud of how much you've accomplished. So is your brother, your mother, and especially your father. Don't doubt yourself."

"I– " Blaine swallowed, hating that he felt tears pooling in his eyes like he had so many times over the past few days. "Thanks, Wes. That means... thanks."

"It's what I'm here for," Wes said, patting him on the shoulder. "Now get suited up so we can warm you up. Not much longer and we'll be heading out."

Blaine nodded and turned back to his locker, starting on his soothing breathing exercises as he finished changing and taping his wrists. He had no idea what to expect once he left the locker room, whether to crowd would be as large as usual since it was at the same time as the closing ceremonies, or if his opponent would be anything like the last with his comments. It was his hope that he didn't have to deal with anything like that again, but he had his doubts. At the very least he didn't think Sapiyev spoke English so with any luck there would be no verbal communication between them.

"All right, let's warm up," Wes hollered once he was done.

Blaine grabbed his gloves and closed the locker, ready to face whatever happened next.

As Blaine had thought the arena wasn't as full as it had been for his semi-final. The crowd was still impressive, but they seemed quieter, like they were all holding their breath until they had an outcome to scream themselves hoarse about. Wes led him through the aisle down to the ring where the lights grew brighter and hotter. Blaine continued to focus on his breathing.

In. Out. Hold.

It was an old habit he'd first adopted when he'd walked to middle school and spend the four blocks mentally preparing himself for a surprise attack around a corner or worse, the constant harassment he endured throughout his seven classes.

A loud call of his name and courage made his heart leap as they stopped at his corner of the ring. Blaine squinted up past the lights, catching a glimpse of Kurt with Burt and Blaine's family, already on their feet and waving.

In. Out. Hold.

"All right, he's looking like he's in good shape and focused over there," Wes grumbled, sounding disgusted as he began rubbing Blaine's shoulders. "I was hoping he'd been partying or something, but... "

"It's better this way," Blaine said, speaking for the first time since he'd left the locker room. "He's at his best and so am I, makes the win that much better."

Wes grinned and patted him on the cheek. "That's what I like to hear."

The officials on the far side of the ring finished conversing and the announcer began speaking to the crowd, announcing the fighters and the match statistics. Blaine raised a fist in greeting whne his name was said, surprised by the roar he was given in comparison to the other man. It almost made him feel guilty, because they should both have the crowds support, but he also figured there was a better chance of there being Americans in the crowd, and the British viewers would probably favor him as well, especially if his romance with Kurt had made him as popular as Cooper seemed to think it had.

In. Out. Hold.

The referee hopped into the ring, gesturing for Blaine and Sapiyev to join him in the middle. Still focusing on his breathing, Blaine let Wes slip his robe off and strap his headgear on before he ducked under the ropes and stepped into the ring. A sudden wave of focus settled around him, the crowd's noises becoming slightly muffled as he honed in on only what was physically in the ring with himself. Sapiyev hopped in a few seconds later, offering him a friendly, tight-lipped smile as they approached the referee.

"Fighters ready?"

Blaine stuffed his mouth guard between his lips, biting down on it harder than usual as he nodded to the official. His breathing became twice as loud with the piece in, echoing in his skull until it was all he could hear.

In. Out. Hold.

"Fight!"

Blaine hopped to his left immediately, dodging Sapiyev's first, quick punch. He'd expected it, had seen it play out in a handful of the fights he'd watched the day before. The other man was definitely fast, much faster than his other opponent's so far this tournament. It was no surprise the man had made it to the final with his reflexes so honed and swift.

They circled each other for most of the first round, feeling the other out and waiting for someone to make a real move. In the end neither of them did before the buzzer, each gaining a handful of points for a few light knocks.

"Good, good," Wes said when he came to his corner. "That's great. Frustrate him. Make him come to you."

Blaine nodded breathlessly, accepting a swig of water as Wes toweled off his face.

Behind him the referee signaled for the second round to begin, and Blaine readjust his headgear and sucked his mouth guard back in. The second round followed the same route as the first, each landing a few hits, but Blaine could see the other man beginning to get frustrated with Blaine's lack of aggression. He hoped it would be enough, but it made him nervous to be heading into the third round with only a few points and nothing to support a win.

Wes encouraged his tact once more as he turned back to start the third and final round. Blaine hunched back down, arms raised and ready as the buzzer sounded, signaling the start of the round. Sapiyev continued to circle with him, closer than previously, but still guarded and waiting. Blaine went back to focusing on his breathing, timing it along with Sapiyev's movements to gain some sort of rhythm. One of them had to move and soon. If they didn't the round would end and they'd both have nothing to sound for their final Olympic match. Wes's tactic wasn't working as he'd thought it would, despite his reassurances.

In. Hop. Out. Fake jab. Hold.

Blaine fell into the rhythm, giving himself a little time to sink into it like he once had when he'd performed on stage. As He breathed in, Sapiyev circled closer once more and Blaine made his move, leaning to his right and jab inward.

Sapiyev was prepared, blocking the move and trying to follow, but Blaine had thrown off the rhythm he'd set himself for the last two and a half rounds. Blaine ducked back to the left, keeping with the rhythm in his head like it was a dance, swooping back in with his fists ready.

WHAMP! POW!

Sapiyev stumbled, tucking in on himself as Blaine advanced, fists rolling out as his sides took a few weaker hits as Sapiyev tried to regain his footing. A few seconds later the referee hauled him back, but the damage was done. He'd scored a number of great hits, and unless Sapiyev made up for it in the next twenty-seven seconds then the match was over.

The fight resumed, though Sapiyev looked even more frustrated now, and like he was regretting the stalemate they'd been having all evening. He pushed back in roughly, catching Blaine on the side, but Blaine tucked and twisted out of his reach, circling back and dancing away. If he managed to stay away for a few more seconds he'd win.

For the first time since he'd entered the ring Blaine's ears filled with the sounds of the audience, the majority of which were now chanting his name in excitement. It was that more than anything that caught his attention. Sapiyev seemed to have noticed it to. As the final seconds ticked closer, his punches grew feebler.

Blaine grinned around his mouth guard, knowing that he'd won. The final buzzer sounded, and even though the scores hadn't been announced, the crowded roared as Blaine undid his gloves and spat out his mouth guard.

Wes was hopping up and down beside the ring, bellowing at the top of his lungs, all dignity forgotten.

After what felt like an hour Blaine found himself being ushered back to the center of the ring and having his fist raised as the victor. Sapiyev shook his hand and gave him a slap-hug.

"Congrat'lates," the man said, his accent thick and nearly unintelligible.

"Thanks," Blaine replied. "It was a great fight."

"Ves, it vas," Sapiyev agreed. He nodded towards the stands where Blaine knew his family and Kurt were. "Do vell with him, h'okay?"

Surprised, Blaine nodded mutely and excepted another short hug before Wes motioned him over and out of the ring. He was ushered out shortly after, face flushed and heart pounding with adrenaline. Back in the locker room it was eerily silent despite Wes's constant talking and reenactment of those final moments.

Blaine was barely listening to what he was saying, though. He was anxious to see Kurt and his family, to kiss and hug his lover and be hoisted up by his brother.

He was halfway through changing out of his uniform when the locker room door to the hallway banged open and a loud screech belonging to Cooper echoed around the room.

"My baby brother's a gold medalist!"

Next thing Blaine knew he'd been hoisted into the air by Cooper. He was swung around half a dozen times before his father hauled Cooper off of him and threw his arms around him. The warmth of the hug surprised Blaine more than the outcome of his fight, but he accepted it like a starving man accepted a plate of food, his arms tight around his father's chest.

"I am so proud of you, champ," his father whispered, sounding tearful. He stepped back and held Blaine at arm's length, the tears in his eyes undeniable as he looked him over. "You did it. My son's an Olympic champion."

"T- thanks, Dad," Blaine rasped, his own eyes tearing up.

His father passed him off to his mother and Amanda. Then Liam tackled his legs, and finally Kurt bounced forward, away from his father's side and right into his arms.

"You won!" Kurt squealed, lifting him up like Cooper had. He spun him once, both of them laughing loudly, before Blaine was back on his feet and being kissed passionately. "Oh, I'm so proud of you!"

"Not as proud as I am of you," Blaine assured him, letting Kurt run his fingers through his sweaty hair and straighten out a few tangles.

"I beg to differ," Kurt argued at once, but he was smiling brightly as he gave Blaine another kiss, this time on the cheek. "Do you want to shower before we catch the last bit of the closing ceremonies?"

Blaine nodded, then spent another twenty minutes talking with his family, Burt, and Kurt. There was an excitement infused adrenaline coursing through him when he finally hopped into the shower in the gym a little later. He'd craved a win, had wanted it for so long he couldn't remember what he'd wanted before his sight had been set on the Olympics, but finally reaching it was unreal.

Kurt was waiting for him by his locker when he came out, toweling himself off and still beaming. With a little distraction, namely in the form of a mouth tracing over his shoulders, back, and then stomach, Blaine managed to get dressed and together the two of them headed off to the main stadium for the tail end of the closing ceremonies.

"I bet they're all drunk by now," Kurt speculated as they hurried onto the Tube and plopped down in an empty car.

Blaine wasn't surprised to find the train nearly deserted. Most of the city's inhabitants, especially in the area they were in, were at the stadium, by the stadium, or watching it from their television sets at home. The ride to the main complex was short, and Blaine was stunned by the roar of the crowd from the street they exited by. Kurt led the way towards the stadium, Blaine trailing behind, but holding the other man's hand tightly as they waded through the crowd.

"Wow," Blaine hollered over the noise. "I didn't expect the street to be one giant party."

"What?" Kurt shouted over his shoulder as music thundered out from the stadium. "I can't hear you, Blaine!"

Instead of attempting to repeat his words, Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand and kept walking, finally reaching the south side entrance. They flashed their badges for the guards, then went through the various security checkpoints before being let down to the same underground hallway they'd waited in during the opening ceremony. The roar overhead was muffled slightly down there as they headed towards the sloping entrance to the stadium.

"Do you just want to hang back and watch?" Kurt suggested as they approached the opening onto the field. "It's almost over."

"Yeah," Blaine decided, pausing behind Kurt as they reached the opening. He circled his arms around Kurt's chest and hooked his chin over Kurt's shoulder. "This is much better than running out there for a few minutes."

Kurt hummed softly, the vibrations traveling along his back and into Blaine's chest as they watched their fellow athletes enjoy the end of an incredible two week journey. There was bound to be an after party, or a dozen considering how many of them there were, and Blaine hoped they could find their friends, share his winning news, and find a good place to celebrate all of their success these past two weeks.

"This has been the best two weeks of my life," Kurt murmured, turning his mouth until his lips brushed Blaine's ear. "The start of the greatest part of my life."

A soft, dry kiss was placed in front of Blaine's earlobe as Kurt rested his head against his own.

"Of our lives," Blaine corrected with certainty. "Did you ever think we'd be back in this spot like this?"

"No," Kurt admitted, shrugging back against Blaine's chest and relaxing in his arms. "The desperately cute, but clumsy American who tumbled into me becoming the man I'd fall in love with wasn't in my two week plan." He pressed another kiss against Blaine's skin, this time under the curve of his jaw as the song in the stadium ended and the crowd roared louder. "But sometimes the best plans can still be fine tuned."

Blaine sighed blissfully, squeezing Kurt more tightly in his arms, enjoying the sensation of their body pressed together and relaxed as they shared one of their last sweet moments together.

"I love you, Kurt."

"I love you, too."

The room was spinning when Blaine was woken up the next morning. As soon as he cracked his eyes open he regretted it. Everything was too bright, like he had his face pressed up against a spotlight that was being rotated across the night sky. He groaned miserably, head throbbing dully as Puck giggle next to his ear, followed by the muffled sound of a recording of what sounded like a wild party.

"Christ, I can't believe you two were drunk enough for this," Cooper said in amazement from behind them. "And damn, no wonder you're head over heels for this guy, squirt. He is pounding your a– "

"What?" Blaine squawked, jerking up onto his elbows. The room spun worse than ever and he groaned as Puck shoved his face into a small, empty trash can. Immediately, Blaine threw up, the smell and taste of alcohol overwhelming his senses.

Now he remembered. Or at least he recalled bits and pieces of last night. Kurt and he had met up with a few other divers, Puck, Sebastian, and a handful of other gay American athletes that Blaine was only acquainted with. They'd headed out to a small pub located on the edge of Olympic Park, one Blaine had come to find out was a gay dance club more than a pub. After that there'd been a handful of Long Island Iced Teas, several Irish Car Bombs, and a lot of sweaty dance against Kurt.

Both of them had been unbelievably drunk when Puck had yanked Blaine away from Kurt's arms and announced that it was time to do body shots off the gold medalist. A lot of mouths had been on his stomach after that, all hazy and indistinct while Kurt had dropped down by the head of the table he'd been spread out on, arms around Blaine's shoulder and mouth working over his neck and shoulders. The last thing Blaine remembered was Kurt taking his shot, announcing to the drunken crowd that it was the last one, because Blaine had been whining and arching off the table, his cock throbbing against his jeans, as he begged Kurt to fuck him.

Judging by Cooper's reaction to whatever video he was watching, and the very familiar moans Blaine could distinguish from the thumping music and Puck's giggles, they'd had quite a night.

"You two are so damn hot," Puck told him when Blaine was certain his stomach was settled. A cup of water and aspirin was handed to him as he squinted over at his brother. "There's one from when we got back here, too," Puck added. He grinned over at Blaine. "You two fucked all night."

"We– I don't remember anything after the body shots– "

He twisted on the bed, careful not to rouse Kurt, who was face down and still asleep. He strained his memory, but it was no use. It only made his hangover worst. Blaine downed the pills and started sipping the water slowly.

"Bet your ass does," Puck teased as Cooper ducked down next to Puck so Puck could find the second video. "He fucked you hard, man. Then you two came back here and you fucked him into the mattress. That time was cuter, though."

Blaine spluttered indignantly, but Puck shrugged.

"It was," he repeated. "You two kept saying how much you loved each other and how you never wanted to say goodbye and shit like that. Pretty sure you two fell asleep before you even came."

"I can't believe you just sat there and videotaped us– "

"Hey," Puck cut in, looking wounded by Blaine's snarl. "You'll be glad I was here, mister I-can't-get-the-condom-wrapper-open-so-I'm-not-going-to-use-it. I mean, I know you're clean, but I didn't know if you two had talked about anything like that, so I opened the damn thing for you while you two rutted and whimpered."

Face burning, Blaine ducked his head, sipping his glass of water and letting his eyes close as his head pounded a little more fiercely.

"Aw, look at you two," Cooper cooed as the next video started. More a moment all Blaine could hear was Puck giggling and telling them they were the most adorable boys he'd ever seen, but then he could hear Kurt's desperate moans followed by his own. "Even when you're fucking you two are still precious."

"I hate both of you," Blaine grumbled, glaring at them as he rolled over and began waking Kurt up.

Puck was on hand with a second little trash can for Kurt, which was used almost immediately. Like Blaine, Kurt remembered very little of what had happened after the bar, though he was fortunate enough to remember a portion of their time back in the room.

After watching both of the videos together, Puck insisted on sending them both copies of them for once they were separated that afternoon for "wank material". His words, however, had the immediate effect of reminding them of their impending departure.

They took a long hot shower together once their heads stopped pounding so harshly, washing each other clean and then standing under the spray of hot water and in each other's arms until the water ran cold and their tears stopped.

The next few hours moved quickly between Blaine's packing, getting checked out of his room, and then meeting up with the American team for their journey to the airport together. Kurt and he decided it would be easiest to say goodbye there in the Village instead of Kurt attempting to follow them to the airport and dragging out the inevitable.

As Blaine's last bag was loaded onto the bus and Puck said goodbye to Kurt with a promise of sending him both of those videos, Blaine found himself facing Kurt for potentially the last time for the next several months or longer.

"Call me as soon as you land for your lay over," Kurt demanded, smoothing out Blaine's shirt collar and sniffing. "Then when you land in California, okay?"

"I will, I promise," Blaine whispered, his own eyes tearing up as Kurt flung himself into Blaine's arms. "I miss you already."

"We'll see each other on Skype before you know it," Kurt assuring him as Blaine felt hot tears running down Kurt's cheeks an dripping onto his own. "Then before you know it we'll see each other in person and– "

Kurt broke off as his voice cracked and faltered. Blaine held him tighter, letting his tears course silently down his cheeks.

"Take good care of my heart," he murmured. "I'm going to love and protect yours until your with me once again."

"I know it's safe with you."

Eventually Puck hopped back off the bus and slowly extracted Blaine from Kurt's arms. They said their "I love yous" and kissed one last time before Blaine boarded the bus, taking the seat by Puck. Sebastian, Santana, and Brittany were behind him as the bus pulled out of the lot.

"You okay?" Santana asked softly, her arms circling around his neck from behind.

Blaine shrugged, not even bothering to fight his tears.

"It's okay, Blainey," Brittany assured him. "You two are fabulous unicorns together and he'll be back with your herd before you know it."

Sebastian snorted. "What she means is you'll see him again soon. Even I think you two have something and can make this work."

Still Blaine said nothing, but he let Santana continue to hug his shoulders and drop her head down next to his ear, murmuring gentle words of comfort as they headed towards the airport. He was really leaving London, leaving Kurt and even neither of them could admit it, they were saying goodbye.