Kurt holds Blaine until Blaine releases him. Blaine sniffs wetly, and wipes his eyes, looks down. Lightly, Kurt touches his elbow. “I'll make some dinner if you want to find something for us to watch?” Kurt offers. It feels horribly inadequate, but he can't think of anything else.

"Yeah, sure," Blaine says. He glances up with a wobbly smile. Kurt squeezes Blaine's arm once before he lets go entirely and goes into the kitchen.

Noises all seem too loud as he gets out his knife and the chopping board. He considers what to make. Nothing too rich, but nothing too healthy either. He doesn't want Blaine to feel pressured. He needs something basic and nourishing, but tasty, too. And not too much effort, because right now, he hasn't got the juice himself.

He decides on whole wheat ziti with ricotta and broccoli, and sets to chopping the broccoli.

#

They eat in front of the TV, on the futon together. There's a bunch of Whose Line Is It Anyway that Sam's recorded. Laughter helps.

Once their plates are empty and resting on the coffee table, Blaine leans into Kurt, a little bit tentatively, but Kurt opens his arms and urges him closer. They don't speak, but Kurt enjoys the sound and vibration of Blaine's laughter, how it mixes with his own, the way their bodies shake with synchronized amusement, and the way Blaine glances up at him with a bright smile and bright eyes, to share the moments of humor.

Soon Blaine is yawning against the back of his hand. Kurt looks at the clock. “You want to stay tonight?” he asks Blaine.

Blaine doesn't answer immediately—or look up.

"Just to sleep," Kurt says. "Or whatever you want. It's fine."

Blaine nods. “Okay.”

"I'm going to shower," Kurt says, and he gently shifts from beneath Blaine's weight. Leaving Blaine is hard, but the fight has left him feeling disjoint. He needs the space and heat and the clean.

"I'll make some tea," Blaine says.

#

The television is off, and Blaine's reading on his tablet by lamp light when Kurt comes back out. The tea is laid out on the tray on the coffee table. There's a plate of cut apples instead of cookies, another with lemon slices. There's no small jug of milk, no honey.

Kurt doesn't know how to respond to that. Isn't sure how to navigate this at all.

Blaine catches him staring at the tray. “I made decaf green with chamomile.”

"Thanks," Kurt says, and he bends to pour the tea.

"I'm sorry," says Blaine.

Kurt sets the teapot down, and he doesn't frown. “For?”

"I'm really… Kurt, I'm so proud of you," Blaine says. "And you're right, you shouldn't apologize for being strong. You've never been a delicate flower. I just…" Blaine rubs his hands over his face.

Carefully, Kurt sits with a mug in his hands, balanced at the edge of the futon beside Blaine. “We're growing up,” Kurt says neutrally.

"You are," Blaine says. "I don't know about me. I feel like I'm regressing." There's enough of a sardonic twist to Blaine's grimace, that Kurt gives him a sympathetic smile. "I don't feel like myself anymore. Does that even make sense?"

Kurt presses his lips together and nods, looks at his tea cup. “Last year,” Kurt starts slowly. “When I was here, on my own? It was really hard. I spent a lot of time not feeling like myself any longer, and I didn't know what that meant. I wasn't sure I liked who I was becoming or what my life was becoming. Even with some success at Vogue, it wasn't what I had hoped for. I didn't feel the way I thought I would. And the way things were between us, it was hard.”

"I'm so—" Blaine's hand rests warm on Kurt's thigh.

"No apologies, Blaine." Kurt glances up with a smile. "I'm not sad about that any more. I'm not telling you because I want you to feel sad either. But I understand, I think, some of what you're going through. It's hard enough just getting through the days here sometimes."

Blaine nods.

"Maybe it's normal to feel different? Everything is different. But it's better with you here than it ever was without you." Kurt feels tears prick the back of his eyes. "So please don't ever think I don't want you with me. Everything I want in my life, I want it to be with you by my side. There's less joy without you. Good or bad, I want to share it all with you." He puts his hand over Blaine's.

"I want that too," Blaine says, turning his hand beneath Kurt's and interlacing their fingers.

"It scares me when you shut me out like this," Kurt confesses. "I wish you wouldn't. It makes me feel like you don't…" Kurt trails off with a frown. It's hard to put words to the feeling of disconnection.

"I tried to talk to you. You didn't want to talk. You were just… so mad. I couldn't—"

Kurt closes his eyes. “I'm sorry for that.”

"Then… why, Kurt? Why wouldn't you talk to me? I can't tell you anything if you won't listen."

"I was scared it meant, that you were… not satisfied with me, that you were looking elsewhere. Again."

"It was never about that. I wasn't going to cheat on you."

"I know, I think. It's not cheating, but frat boi physicals dot com?" Kurt summons a weak smile. "Instead of being with me? I mean, you were on the site even though I was coming over that night. I was right there for you, and you— How did you think I would feel about that? When you hadn't wanted me all week?"

"That wasn't why."

"I know that now, I guess? But… it's hard for me when I feel like I'm losing parts of you like that. When you don't want me. I get scared too, Blaine. When I can't reach you, when you turn away like that. I'm right here."

"I guess it's just that, I've almost lost you three times now. It keeps feeling like I'm going to run out of luck soon, that the next time, maybe I will."

"No, never."

"But you can't actually promise me that," Blaine says gently enough, but resigned. Heavy in a way that makes Kurt's chest hurt.

"But isn't that what this means?" Kurt holds out his left hand. The light glints off the platinum band.

Blaine takes his hand, runs his thumb over the smooth metal. “It's not enough, and when I realized that…” Blaine shuts his eyes and bows his head. His shoulders shake.

"Blaine? Why isn't it enough? I'm doing everything I can. I don't know what else I can say—"

"Seeing you in the hospital bed," Blaine says. "Getting that call?"

"Oh."

"I couldn't protect you. I can't. Maybe I never really could. Maybe… It reminded me how fragile this all actually is, Kurt. I thought about Rachel and—" Blaine takes a shaky breath. "If one of those guys had had a knife or a gun or if they'd hit you in the head a little bit harder or, god, so many things? Our lives together would have ended before they'd even begun. I'd be alone, without you, forever."

"Honey," Kurt says.

"It made me realize that they can, Kurt. You told me once they couldn't touch us, but they can touch us, even here, where it's supposed to be better. They can break us, and it doesn't matter how much we love each other, or how many promises we make."

"Blaine, I—"

"Is it ridiculous that I just want… to not be so scared? Just for a little while? Can't things be easier?"

"It's not ridiculous, baby. No." Kurt pulls Blaine into his arms, and he speaks slowly, every word leaden with the evils of the world he can't change. He can't make this any better for Blaine than Blaine can for him. The one place he has a say though remains untouchable. "It doesn't matter what they throw at me, they'll never touch my heart. They can't ever take away my love for you. That's what they can't touch."

Kurt untangles the knot around his heart so he can free the words. “My love will always be yours,” he says. “That's not a promise, Blaine, it's the truth. Even if you lose me, to something… awful, my love will always be yours.”

"You don't believe in life after death."

"No," Kurt says. "I don't, and I don't want you to lose me. I don't want to lose you either. I want our lives together so much. But I know that's not… Wanting it isn't a guarantee."

"I wish it were," Blaine says quietly.

"When I lost my mother, for a long time it felt like there was this vacuum inside me. Even though I still had my father, he couldn't fill that emptiness, no matter how much he loved me or what he did.

"But, there was this one summer… I was older. Twelve maybe? She been gone for a few years. My Dad and I had gone to this concert in the park, by the river for the fourth of July. We took a picnic basket and a blanket. We listened to the Lima City Orchestra and watched the fireworks, and once it was over, we were sitting there after, waiting for the crowd to thin and packing up our stuff, and he said, ‘Your mother would have loved this," and I said, "Yes, especially the Tchaikovsky.'

"We'd been thinking the same thing about her, feeling the same thing, and for a moment, I think we both felt it, the joy of her? Not in any supernatural way, but just that she was still a part of us. That empty feeling inside me faded as I thought about her. It still hurt, to know I'd never actually see her or hug her again, but I felt her love then, so perfectly, inside me, and I knew it was always going to be part of me. She would always be with me.

"I'm not all the way there with Finn, but I try to hold his memory close, too. I think about him a lot, you know? Imagine what he'd tell me, remember the way he hugged me. He'll always be part of my life."

"Kurt…" Blaine's openly crying now. He pulls Kurt into a hug.

"I know you're scared sometimes. It's okay. I'm scared too."

"Promise me you won't do anything like that again."

"I wish I could. But you want to know what I was thinking about? Why I ran into that alley?" Kurt pulls back from their embrace to look at Blaine.

"Why?"

"I was thinking about Russ, but also you and your friend and the Sadie Hawkins dance. And, god, Blaine, it makes me so angry that you went through that, and there's nothing I could do to protect you from it. You were so young. If I could go back, as I am now? And find you and your friend in that parking lot waiting for your Dad to pick you up. If I could go save those two thirteen year old boys from that pain?"

Blaine pulls him closer again, tucks his face into Kurt's neck.

"I hate that there was a time when you were without me. I wish I could have been there for you, too, the way you were there for me. No one deserves to be alone like that. I couldn't walk past that alley."

"You could have called the police first," Blaine says. "Been a little smarter about it."

"Yeah," Kurt says, he could have been smarter. They hold each other for a while longer and breathe.

#

They go to bed together, both of them in pajamas. Kurt turns out the light and lets Blaine reach for him first. Blaine spoons up behind Kurt. He's semi-hard against Kurt's ass. Pushes a hand down under the waistband to stroke Kurt's hip and tug Kurt's back against him while he kisses his neck. It's a little sudden, and not what Kurt expected.

"We don't have to have sex tonight, Blaine. That's not why I invited you to stay."

"I want to," Blaine says, rubbing his erection against Kurt's ass so Kurt can feel him pulse harder.

Kurt twists to speak over his shoulder to Blaine, “You want to fuck me?”

"Yeah," Blaine says.

And that's all they need to say. Kurt leans over to the lacquered box on his nightstand to get the lube and a condom while Blaine shoves his underwear down his thighs.

Blaine takes the lube, the condom, and soon his slick fingers are between Kurt's buttocks, slipping along the sensitive skin to find Kurt's hole. His lips press to the back of Kurt's shoulder.

"I don't need… ah—" Kurt says just as Blaine's middle-finger breaches his body, and the familiar hot chill of that touch climbs his spine. "—very much prep."

But Blaine takes enough time to work a second finger in with slow, twisting drags until Kurt can feel it, like electricity, prickling across his scalp. It stifles hot in his brain, races crazily in his veins. Kurt clutches his pillow to his chest and closes his eyes, lets Blaine do what he wants. Kurt's body gently rocks with each movement of Blaine's fingers inside, he pants and whimpers and concentrates on relaxing for Blaine.

More lube, and then Blaine's fingers slide out, and then his whole hand is there, pushing at Kurt's topmost buttock as he lies on his side, until the stretch of the skin stings, and Kurt shifts his leg, tucking his knee up toward his belly.

"You're so sexy," Blaine murmurs, and then his cock is there, unyielding and hot, pressing hard, and Kurt's body surrenders to the thick slippery stretch and slide. The slow drive inside leaves Kurt breathless, gasping and clinging to his bedding. Blaine behind him is so hot—hungry lips, hungry hands, hungry cock.

The heavy push-pull of Blaine fucking him—the sensation rooted so deep in his belly, so deep in his bowels—more than any other single thing they do together, makes Kurt feel he is wholly alive and wholly dwelling in his body. But it's more than that, for there's no possible division within himself: his mind and his physical body are a unified whole. All of him exists here, indivisible with Blaine: connected, safe, loved.

"Feels so good," Kurt mumbles and gropes back with one hand to find Blaine's skin. "Missed you."

"Missed you too," Blaine pants out.

"You do make me feel," Kurt manages, "so safe like this."

Blaine's moving smoothly now, though still slow enough the pleasure hasn't yet begun its inevitable crawl toward climax. Kurt savors it, the way his body accepts Blaine without any resistance, the constant building burr of pleasure in the friction, the dizzying sparks of deep pressure that jump and flare along his nerves. They haven't fucked like this for a while. The last few times before the last dry spell had been different. Faster, rougher, more to the point—and over quickly. But Blaine's not in a rush tonight, and neither is Kurt. And he's content to let Blaine find whatever he may have been missing.

The bed creaks rhythmically. “Wish I could hold you like this always,” Blaine says.

"Hmm? But you do," Kurt exhales, even though part of him knows it doesn't make sense to say it, but when their bodies are connected like this, it feels like such a huge thing that it cannot be contained in the isolated instances of their lovemaking. It must overflow into every other subsequent moment of his existence, like every cell in his body carries an indelible memory of them being together, like the sensation becomes embedded in the molecules that make him. "I can always feel you, Blaine. You're part of me too."

"Kurt," Blaine says, staticky and breaking over the syllables.

"Too metaphysical?" Kurt asks softly; he smiles but doesn't open his eyes.

Blaine stifles a laugh against Kurt's cheek. “It's okay. I like it when you're fanciful about sex.”

"I mean it," Kurt says.

"I know." Blaine's fingers press into his solar plexus. "It just felt like lately, you haven't been so much, altogether with me when we—"

The clang and rumble of the loft door intrudes, overwhelms the quieter sounds of their intimacy. Rachel's back from rehearsal. Blaine slows and stops. Holds Kurt against him, and they keep still and silent but for their hushed heavy breaths in the the darkness. Rachel tip-toes, a quick tap tap tap, to her room, then there's the muted rustles and snaps of her undressing. Then the pad of bare feet to the bathroom and the click of the door closing, the gurgle of water in the pipes, and the rush of the shower.

"Can we change position?" Kurt asks, shifting his weight to lean back against Blaine.

"Yeah, how do you want to?"

"Lie on your back," Kurt says.

Blaine slips out (and it's always such an unwelcome loss) and falls to his back. Kurt rolls over and crawls over him, guides Blaine's cock back to where he feels so wide open, and takes him back inside. He doesn't try to ride, just settles his weight down against Blaine, supporting himself on his tucked up knees and bent elbows. “Good?” Kurt asks.

Blaine hums agreement and slides his hands down to Kurt's ass, flexes his grip and then he thrusts up and in, with enough force Kurt nearly bites his tongue. “Oh, okay…” Kurt says, and braces himself for it. There's little more he can do.

He presses his face into Blaine's neck, mouthing at the tender skin of Blaine's throat as Blaine fucks him, quicker and harder than before, gathering up all the threads of hot pleasure in Kurt's belly. Rachel's showers are always long enough, but there's still some urgency to finish before she does.

"Love your cock in me," Kurt says near Blaine's ear. "Love the way you fuck me, baby."

Blaine groans and his hands tighten on Kurt's buttocks, holding Kurt wide for each quick shove of Blaine's cock. “I love it too,” Blaine says. “I love your perfect pretty ass, love how you let me in. Can you… uh… come, or do you need…?”

"Yeah… a little… more. I'll just—" Kurt shifts his weight to one elbow and reaches between their bellies for his cock.

"Kiss me," Blaine says.

It's a lot to coordinate: steadying himself for each glorious sliding thrust into his ass, while pulling up the length of his own dick and trying to kiss Blaine with some semblance of finesse.

He manages until he gets close to orgasm, and then he just straightens his arm to improve the angle, tips his head back, and lets loose all his pent up moans of pleasure. Blaine speeds up: hard, slapping beats of his cock into Kurt's eager body, and Kurt jerks himself faster until it's one hot blur flooding his awareness, until he can't hold any more, and it overtops his senses. When he comes, Kurt swears and cries out long and loud—loud enough Rachel may hear him over the sound of her shower. It's probably not the first time.

"Oh my god," Blaine says, gasping out a marveling laugh.

"Come on, Blaine," Kurt says, and he straightens up, grabs on to the top of the headboard to brace himself, and rolls his hips back to meet each of Blaine's hurrying thrusts. It's much too much, but he hangs on and drives Blaine hard toward his own climax.

Blaine makes an agonized sound and his hands slip admiringly up Kurt's torso, over the flex of muscle. “Kurt, Jesus fucking fuck.”

"Blaine," Kurt grits out and drops his head as he works his ass around Blaine's cock. Sensation is so sharp, the pleasure so acute, it's kin to pain. But it's not pain, it's just so fucking much. His nerves are raw with the friction, and his knuckles ache with the tight grip he has to keep on the headboard, holding himself up while it seems every muscle wants to crumple. He loves it though, even as his body wants to shy away from it. He loves to force himself to take it, to ride it out. “Oh god.” He loves to do this to Blaine. He watches Blaine's face, sees how close he's getting in the furrowing of his brow, the slackness of his jaw.

"It's so good," Blaine mumbles. "Sweetheart, so… ooh—” And Blaine comes with a deep groan.

Gently, Kurt lifts himself off and lies down beside Blaine, stretches his legs and hums in contentment. Kurt thinks about the sex they'd been having and the sex they've just had. Blaine's maybe right: it's been different; Kurt has been less present with him.

As they clean up, Kurt wants to make sure this was better for Blaine, so he asks.

"It was amazing, Kurt," Blaine replies, and he pulls Kurt into his arms again. "You're getting better at that," Blaine says.

"Hmm, at what?"

"Going on top like that."

With a smile, Kurt nuzzles at Blaine's ear and speaks teasingly and softly, “You like me riding your dick?”

"Yes, mmm, and it's so hot when you say it."

"It's even hotter when I do it though."

"Well… yeah," Blaine says.

Kurt leans closer. “So you like watching me fuck myself on your gorgeous cock?”

With a laugh, Blaine replies, “I love it, but if you're trying to get me ready for a second round with your dirty talk, you're going to have to wait a while. I'm too sleepy to move.”

That's when the bathroom door opens with a snap, and Kurt hears Rachel pause in the kitchen long enough to get a drink from the fridge, and then she's shuffling into her room, pulling closed her curtain.

Kurt rolls off Blaine and props himself up on an elbow. “Hey? In the morning, can we sleep in? Together? And then I'd like to take you out for brunch. If the day's nice we can go into Manhattan, walk in the park, maybe go to a matinee movie? Window shop. I don't know. Just cheap, fun, lazy things?”

"Just the two of us?" Blaine asks. "No Sam or Rachel or Artie or Elliot…?"

"Just the two of us," Kurt confirms. "I think maybe we need that? A day together just doing fun things on our own. I know I've been difficult lately too."

"It's not like I don't understand," Blaine says. "It's just hard."

"It's hard for me too."

"So, tomorrow, we'll just have an easy day. Together?"

"Yeah, together."