It was days before Blaine started to feel any difference in his aching limbs and shivering body. By the middle of the following week, his fever had finally dropped off and his stomach had accepted several offerings of vegetable soup. Kurt's worries had been talked through, and Blaine had simply told the others that he must have been wrong. With a mission this long, his body must work a little differently than it normally did.

Privately, Blaine tucked the sickness away into the back of his mind and tried to think over fifty years worth of information and experience. He couldn't think of anyone having this happen to them. But most other agents didn't fall in love with the person they had been spent back to help either. Nothing about this final mission was anything like the others. After fifty years of being an incredible aid to the living, Blaine couldn't help but think that he'd suddenly started sucking at his job.

"What movie's on the menu today, sickling?" Kurt greeted, plopping down on the bed beside Blaine. A big bowl of popcorn bounced next to Blaine's thigh as Kurt carefully placed a tray over his lap.

"Chicken noodle soup, thank god," Blaine said in relief. His stomach gave a huge rumble as he sat up to eat. "That vegetable soup Carole made was fantastic, but it gets old if that's all you eat for days."

"There's a real one on the stove up there," Kurt told him. "I forget what she called it, but it smells way better than this canned stuff. It's chicken and... they're like little potato dumplings. There's spinach and stuff in it, too. She said it's probably too rich for you right now."

"Can I get–"

"No," Kurt said sharply. "You threw it all up the last time I gave you crackers."

"But Kurt," Blaine whined, pouting as he twirled his spoon through the broth, "I can't just live off broth and noodles."

"You either live off that or nothing," Kurt said simply. He scooped up the popcorn bowl and pressed play on the remote. "So what horrible movie am I being subjected to now?"

"Batman Begins was not horrible," Blaine replied firmly. He slurped up a spoonful of broth as the old tape began to play. "This is something called Jurassic Park? There were dinosaurs on the cover and I loved dinosaurs as a kid."

"Oh my god, I haven't seen this movie since I was nine," Kurt gushed, actually looked excited. Several pieces of popcorn flew up and landed in Blaine's soup. "It's so much fun and just– you can't go back without watching all three of them, okay? We'll watch the whole trilogy tonight!"

Blaine raised an eyebrow at the unexpected enthusiasm. When he'd spotted a movie with a dark cover and the golden and red outline of a dinosaur's mouth he'd never pictured Kurt beaming at the screen as the movie started. "Don't people get eaten?" Blaine wondered, rechecking his text messages from Sam. "Sam said they do."

"Of course they do," Kurt snapped, looking offended at the very suggestion that they might not. "This one guy, he's so pathetic, he gets eaten on the toilet."

A mouthful of soup dribbled back out as Blaine spluttered. "Are you– who even thinks of this kind of stuff?"

"Well, just imagine some of the worst, most embarrassing ways to die and–"

Kurt cut off abruptly, eyes widening at what he'd just said. It wasn't the first, or the last, time someone had said something similar to Blaine over the past few months. For living people it was only natural to make remarks about death so casually. When they hadn't experienced it, or anything close to it, talking about it like it was out of reach and escapable was easy.

"God, I'm so s–"

"Forget it, Kurt," Blaine cut in, shrugging as he tried to get more than broth on his spoon. "Really," he added at Kurt's uncertain frown. "It's fine. And dying on a toilet with your pants around your ankles would suck."

Kurt smiled shyly, but settled back down beside him. "Yeah, I hope that's not how I'll go."

Blaine shook his head and spooned a piece of popcorn out of his soup. "Nah, you'll be in your nineties probably, surrounded by your kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, any friends still alive. I bet Mercedes will be there, sitting at your bedside and telling you all the drama you've been missing on the other floors of the hospital."

Kurt beamed at the suggestion and nodded slightly. "That does sound nicer than the toilet scenario. I don't think I'll make it to great-grandkids, though. I'm not even sure if I want kids. Maybe one. I don't know."

Blaine knocked his elbow against Kurt's and smiled slightly. "You've still got plenty of time to figure it out, but for the record, I think you'll make a wonderful father some day. You've had a phenomenal example."

"My dad is pretty amazing," Kurt agreed. "Oh, it's starting, shh!"

Blaine grinned as Kurt settled down beside him, eyes glued to the screen and hand flipping back and forth between his mouth and the bowl of popcorn. It was only when his soup bowl was empty and his eyes were still on Kurt that Blaine realized he'd been ignoring the movie.

"No, don't scream!" Kurt squealed, upsetting the popcorn bowl as the dinosaur roared in fury. "No, it knows you're there, you stupid kid!"

Blaine jumped as a second roar echoed around Kurt's room, knocking his tray sideways. He quickly picked it up, folded the legs under, and set it on the night-stand.

"Over the bridge with you!"

Blaine glanced at the screen, watched the tyrannosaurus nudge the jeep over the side with its snout, and then found his gaze drifting back over to Kurt's adorable expression. His hands, one still stuffed full of popcorn, were curled up and covering his mouth, knees drawn up to his chest as he stared avidly at the screen.

"Thanks again for all of this," Blaine said quietly, eyes tracing over Kurt's face, from his ear to his chin to the slowly drooping coif of his hair. "For letting me stay and taking care of me."

Kurt looked away as the little boy on screen screamed louder, and nodded. "Of course. Did you expect me to just leave you on your own when you're puking your brains out?"

"No, I– it's just really nice of you and your Dad to let me stay and get me better, that's all," Blaine said.

Kurt let his legs drop back down, and scooted closer. "You're my best friend, Blaine," he reminded him. "I mean, Mercedes's is definitely a best friend, but you're my best friend. There's no way we'd do anything else."

"You're my best friend, too," Blaine agreed. "The best I've ever had. Even better than–"

Blaine shook his head and turned back to the screen, trying to focus on the movie and to figure out what was going on.

"Better than Lee?"

The question made him tense in surprise and anger. He'd left that part of his story out of what he'd told Kurt and Burt. Talking about Lee, about the one real friend he'd had in his life who had ultimately contributed to his death, wasn't something he could handle.

"How– he wasn't–"

Kurt gave him a sad look, but nodded and caught his hand. "Shh, just forget it," he said quickly. "I'm overstepping, I'm sorry."

"It's– you're not," Blaine grimaced and let Kurt squeeze his hand between both of his. As Kurt's thumbs started rubbing over the veins on the back of Blaine's hand, he tried to relax again. But he couldn't seem to recapture the calm that had hung around him since he'd arrived at the Hummels several days ago. After a mention like that, there was no settling back into pretending. "He was... yeah," Blaine choked out. He coughed loudly and cleared his throat. For now that was enough.

Kurt gave another nod and kept rubbing his hand as some man climbed up to where the little boy and the jeep were stuck in a tree. If he could focus on the movie, then their evening could go back to normal.

"Forget I mentioned it," Kurt murmured. Then he leaned in and pecked Blaine on the cheek. It was a friendly little gesture Blaine had come to adore over the last few days, but it made his mind churn and his stomach knot up. There were still so many things he hadn't told Kurt; there were things between them that they hadn't even brought up.

"I can't," Blaine said quietly. "I can't forget it. If I could I wouldn't be here," he paused and stared down at their linked hands. "If I had forgotten, I'd never have had a chance to kiss you."

Kurt's thumb stopped moving, pausing against the hot, fast pulse of the vein by Blaine's ring finger. They'd both been avoiding the subject for far longer than they should have. They were great friends – best friends – with limited time to say anything they wanted to say to each other.

"It was a wonderful chance," Kurt said, voice going high and breathy. "I never thought– I always wanted a first kiss I'd never forget." Blaine tried not to flinch at his words. He'd ruined that experience for Kurt; had given him a painful first kiss that had ended with– "You gave me that. You've given me so much more than I knew."

Startled, Blaine looked up and met Kurt's warm gaze, relaxed into the brush of Kurt's thumbs over his hand. He swallowed loudly as Kurt smiled softly. "I don't regret it. I probably should because of how messed up everything is, but I don't."

"I'm glad," Kurt said. He bit his lip, started to lean in, then seemed to think better of it. "I really want to, but I know we–"

"I want to, too," Blaine admitted, stomach flipping nervously. "Kissing you was–"

"But we can't because you can't stay," Kurt reminded him.

Blaine's chest throbbed as his stomach deflated again. "Yeah, we– I won't do that to you."

They were both quiet for several minutes as the television roared and people screamed and ran from a pair of velociraptors. It couldn't happen and now Kurt understood why. They'd talked about it and that was that.

"I want you to," Kurt whispered, his grip tightening as he shifted beside Blaine. "I know you're leaving, and I know this can't last, but I want you while I still have a chance."

Before Blaine could fully take in what Kurt had said, Kurt's lips were against him. It wasn't a rough or deep kiss, not like any of the ones Blaine had been steadily imagining over the past month. Their kiss was chaste and sweet, a little more forceful than their first one. Kurt pulled back abruptly, looking slightly hurt at the lack of reaction from Blaine. He'd been too startled to kiss back.

"I'm sorry," Kurt muttered. "You're just– you're like something out of a dream for me and I– I'm sorry. We can't. I'll stop."

Carole was right – he was hurting Kurt. By trying to prevent it, he was making it worse. Both of them were aching for something more, and maybe that was okay. Maybe learning about what he'd hoped for and had missed out on was the truth of this entire mission.

Listen to your heart, okay, Blaine? Even if it seems impossible or crazy or like the worst idea, listen to it.

Whether or not his grandfather had meant this exact situation was anyone's guess, but falling in love and acting on it certainly felt like the worst idea.

"Kurt," Blaine said gently, cutting through the rambling apology Kurt had continued after Blaine kept quiet. Kurt stopped, tensing and looking scared. After a deep breath, Blaine continued, "I feel the same about you, y'know? I never imagined anything like this could ever happen and I like you. A lot, okay? It scares the hell out of me, but– I don't want to stop either."

"You don't?"

Blaine shook his head. He took another huge breath, held Kurt's gaze and then leaned in, closing the distance before Kurt's eyes could drift shut. As their lips brushed, clumsily and softly, Blaine smiled. It wouldn't last forever. His life hadn't, Kurt's wouldn't, and this love, even if they carried it in their hearts for as long as they each existed, would disappear from their grasp, too, someday. Maybe it was the worst idea, and it was crazy, but it was the only chance they were ever going to get.

Soft, warm kisses dotted Kurt's cheeks, then his chin, and the edges of his lips. He giggled as Blaine pulled back and beamed at him. The end credits for Jurassic Park had started rolling five minutes ago and Kurt had never cared less about missing one of his favorite childhood movies. Jurassic Park was one of the only movies he and his dad had been able to see and enjoy together. Those watches had certainly never ended the way this one had. Kissing Blaine was exhilarating; it was shy and eagerly nervous, their smiles meeting carefully as they bashfully met each other's eyes.

"I really like kissing you," Kurt murmured as Blaine kissed the corner of his mouth again. He said it like a secret, something shared only with them, and maybe it was and always would be. Nobody else could have or invade this moment. It was, and always would be, his to have even when Blaine was gone.

"Not as much as I like kissing you," Blaine whispered, sneaking in another one before Kurt started giggling again. They'd both been laughing on and off since the first uncertainties and awkwardness had passed.

"My lips hurt," Kurt said as Blaine rolled away from him and laid down facing him.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Kurt said, smiling giddily as Blaine's thumb brushed tentatively over his lower lip. "Yours don't look too great either."

"They do feel a little puffy. Kind of bloated or something," Blaine agreed. He stretched and yawned loudly."I wonder if this is how Sam's mouth always feels."

Kurt watched him stretch again, the shift of his too small top and the sway of a few unmanageable curls. Blaine had kissed him again, was his boyfriend. Or was he? Kurt hoped he was, but his mind lingered on the thought until he couldn't keep silent.

"Blaine, are we– are you my boyfriend now?" Kurt asked quietly, his eyes darting from one hazel eye to the other and then down to the bedding.

Blaine's head rolled towards him. "Don't we have to, like, go on an official date first before we can go steady?"

"Go steady?" Kurt echoed with a laugh. "I really am stuck with a fifties boy."

Blaine blushed and swatted his chest as Kurt laughed. "Going out or whatever you crazy kids call it now. We always had a first date before announcing anything."

"Are you offering?" Kurt couldn't resist countering, his cheeks turning pink at the light of surprise in Blaine's gaze.

"I suppose I should act like a respectable gentleman and do this properly," Blaine said, sitting up and taking Kurt's hands as he kneeled next to him.

Kurt laughed and blushed darker as Blaine gave him a very serious look. "Kurt Hummel," he said gravely, daintily taking Kurt's hands in his.

"Yes?" Kurt pressed, both eager and bashful.

"Will you accompany me to Breadstix on New Year's Eve?"

"Oh, do I get a New Year's kiss from my handsome date as part of the package?" Kurt said, playing along and giving Blaine a coy look.

Blaine broke then, with a huff and a small laugh. An enormous grin took over his face as he ducked his head and stared at their hands. "Will one from your boyfriend do?"

"Absolutely," Kurt said, just as bashful. "I'd enjoy one right now, too. If your puffy lips are up for it."

With another laugh, Blaine leaned in and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

"Boys? Would either of you like more– oh!"

Startled and still blushing, they broke apart with a smack and found Carole on the landing. She was beamed and biting her lip, looking like she'd just discovered a fluffy litter of puppies instead of two boys with locked lips.

"I'll just leave," she stammered, stumbling backwards up the stairs. "Just... continue with what you were doing."

With a flourish and several missteps, Carole hurried back upstairs.

"Ten bucks says my dad comes down here in the next five minutes," Kurt said, listening to her footsteps hurry away towards the kitchen. His cheeks were warmer than they had been at any point since Blaine had kissed him an hour ago.

"Twenty," Blaine said, flopping back down and burying his face in one of Kurt's pillows. "I can't believe that just happened."

Kurt nodded and leaned back against the pillows beside him. The tape had finally stopped playing and Kurt listened to the rev of it rewinding for several minutes, taking them back to the start. An easy start he could recite from childhood, like the first appearance of Blaine in his life in that park down the road. As the tape clicked to a stop at the beginning, Kurt couldn't help but wish their ending was as familiar to him as Jurassic Park's was. "I don't want to say goodbye."

It rushed out of him, a long held horror he'd wanted no part of with anyone in his life. Too many memories of the months after his mom had died clung to goodbyes he hadn't fully grasped. The absence, the uncertainty, the days sitting in his room because those hours had once been spent with her and now had no definable purpose for him. That was most of what he remembered about that time; not really her, or her personality or even her face beyond old photos, but the absence that had followed and been temporarily filled by Blaine.

"We've done it once before," Blaine reminded him awkwardly. He frowned and faced Kurt. "It's not the same anymore."

"No, it's not."

"We'll figure it out when we get there," Blaine decided with a little nod. Whether it was to convince himself or Kurt, he wasn't sure, but it made Kurt feel slightly better. They were both scared of how this had to end. At least he wasn't alone in that.

"Hey, guys, we're gonna watch the–"

Burt's heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, pausing on the landing like Carole's had. "Oh, sorry, guys. We're gonna–"

"Dad!" Kurt whined, both of them sitting up abruptly with flaming cheeks. If this was to be his life for the next six months, then the only thing that would cover his blush would be copious amounts of clown makeup.

"I'm gonna go watch the game without you then," Burt called. "Keep your clothes on!" Then he trampled back up the stairs and left them alone.

"How long do you think until we get a lecture on leaving the door open?" Blaine whispered.

"I give it a week," Kurt said.

"If it was my mom we'd be sat down right now," Blaine told him with a sad smile. "I mean, if she'd approved of me being gay. She did that to Cooper when he had his first girlfriend. Said her parents never did it for her. They never really had the chance, I think. She pretty much ran off with my dad."

"It can't have been very common to discuss that back then," Kurt said, trying to figure out when Blaine's parents had been born instead of focusing on what else Blaine was implying. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were the early 1900s, maybe late 1890s; Blaine did have a brother quite a bit older than him. A century, though, that was difficult to wrap his mind around. "She obviously figured it out since you're here."

"Figured it out a lot earlier than most," Blaine said. He shrugged at Kurt's puzzled look. "My mom was fourteen, almost fifteen, when she had Cooper. That's why I'm so much younger than him."

"Fourteen?" Kurt echoed in disbelief. "That's, like, middle school–"

"Different world," Blaine explained patiently. "It was the 1930s in rural Ohio when they were married. I remember when I was really little and her parents first started visiting. Cooper always took me out back when they were there because they didn't approve. She'd run off to get out from under their rules and married my dad. A lot of teenage girls did that back then, I think."

"Trading one male owner for another," Kurt decided.

"Yeah, in a way, especially for a lot of them," Blaine agreed. "My dad was a good man, though. Having Cooper so young was rough on her and he was there for her and didn't push her and stuff. They were really close and strong once I was born, but Cooper always seemed wary of her. I think she probably resented him when he was little, probably still did after I came along. She wasn't ready to be a mother that young."

"That's terrible," Kurt said quietly. He shifted and tried to picture such a thing in his own childhood, but all that came to him was vague tea parties, mostly with Blaine or his Dad, and a beautiful laugh more like one of the melodies he chased in a song than a voice that had once been the core of his world. "For both of them. She was so young and Cooper didn't ask for that."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed gruffly. "Nobody asks for the unkind things that happen to them. It just does. I don't think they wanted to have kids right away, but protection wasn't an option for two kids from Catholic families."

"I can't even imagine that time," Kurt said, shuddering and shifting closer to Blaine. "It sounds so terrible. Everyone had to be so secretive about themselves."

"I wish I had been," Blaine said quietly. "If there's one thing I'd have changed, it would have been that. Maybe not forever, but at least until I was out on my own."

"In New York City," Kurt added. He tried to smile brightly, but it was tainted with the sorrow of Blaine's reminder. Another life; one Kurt had no connection or full understanding of, but one that was impossible to ignore.

"Yeah, I've always hoped to have a mission there," Blaine confessed. "I've seen the skyline pictures as they've changed over the years, watched the buildings tower higher since I was a kid, but they've never let me go outside of this part of Ohio."

Kurt watched the shadow sweep over Blaine's face for a moment. It was gone just as quickly, but despite the ache it brought, Kurt was determined to keep it in the open, away from the noon sun and under it as it set slowly on Blaine's last months here.

"Why didn't they let you?" he asked.

"Because I've never been there before," Blaine said after a moment. "Other people can go to London or Kyoto or wherever they've been before. They don't want us to be conspicuous, and so I'm stuck around here because I never left Ohio."

"But there's thousands of new people in New York City every day," Kurt insisted in surprise. "Surely, they could have–"

"That's just part of it, Kurt," Blaine cut in. "New York, especially for me, would offer too many distractions and uncertainties. I'm here on a job; I'm here to focus on whoever I'm here for, not myself or what I want."

"So they keep you here," Kurt echoed hollowly. He looked over Blaine's face. As much as Blaine tried to hide the sullenness that Kurt was bringing up, he couldn't. "Isn't that more dangerous, though?" he continued doggedly as Blaine rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "I mean, Mr. Schue remembers you and I'm sure others have."

"That's why I'm not pictured in yearbooks," Blaine said simply. "They keep us in familiar areas, where we know the culture and community and customs, and, for me, I'm back every fifteen to twenty years for long missions. Someone has to come back with me, too, since I'm technically a minor. I just use the same uncle story over and over. People might recognize me each time, but it's distant in their memory and it's never the same people. Last time I was here I was at McKinley, then Dalton before that, and Carmel High, too."

"It still sucks," Kurt said bluntly. He sat up and spun around until his hip was against Blaine's side and he could lean over his face. "I'm taking you to New York before you leave."

Looking flabbergasted, Blaine propped himself up on his elbows. "You've never even been to New York City."

"So we'll go together," Kurt decided. "Or with my dad or Rachel or Finn or someone, okay? We're going."

"But–"

"Nope, I'm taking you to New York before we leave and we can talk about everything we'll do when– when we live there someday," he finished weakly. He sunk down once more, feet tucked under his butt as Blaine's disbelieving smile faltered and shrunk. Already he was more invested in something unobtainable than he'd ever been in anything real.

"Hey," Blaine said gently, cupping his chin and pulling him in for a soft kiss. His movements were still a little unsure, still shaky with the newest of them, but Kurt accepted a second kiss eagerly. If they just forgot what he'd said, then they could pretend everything about this was as normal as it felt in his heart. "We–" Blaine faltered, bit his lip, and offered him a small smile. "What are we doing for our first date besides dinner?" he asked instead. "I think we'd better decide that before we decide on future living arrangements."

"Right," Kurt agreed quietly, still feeling foolish for how far ahead his thoughts had gotten on a road that broke off at the edge of a cliff. He was standing out over the open air now, waiting for gravity to catch up to his momentum.