Blaine looks out at the seemingly calm city. From his vantage point up on the highest still standing skyscraper he can overlook the rows and rows of streets, running through the urban canyon like veins through a decaying body. The once steady stream of people pushing their way through the masses to go somewhere, be somewhere, hurry somewhere to meet someone, all of them very, very important, has died down. It hurts to see his city so broken, his dreams shattered, the future he had envisioned no more than a figment of his imagination at this point. He has never found love the way he always hoped he would. A plague descending on the world would make that quite impossible. And instead of chasing love struck vampires on a theater stage, he is now chasing the remnants of once beautiful souls, trying to keep the disease at bay.

Sometimes he wonders what the point is in fighting it. Isn’t the virus spreading relentlessly anyway? Is he simply prolonging the nightmare, creating his own kind of hell that consists of daily head smashing and throat slicing, scavenging for food and supplies as often as he can, dashing back to the headquarters?

When the sun rises behind the skyline, its rays boring into his eyes, he takes a deep breath. Shouldering last night’s loot, he stumbles forward, the weight too much for his injured leg. He swears, grits his teeth and starts dragging himself the 12 blocks down Jerome Avenue to headquarters at the former Yankees’ stadium. He flinches when he sees some movement in the corner of his eye just as he reaches the heavy gate. Just a cat. It was just a cat. One of the happy few that are still running around undisturbed, chasing rats at their own will. Blaine smiles and lets himself watch the animal for a bit as it plays with its prey. He doesn’t notice the hand that grabs him by his lapel and drags him around a corner. He cries in pain as his leg twists, scrambles to reach his dagger, but can’t grasp it before he’s pushed against a wall. He looks into stormy blue eyes and something in him leaps.

“Hummel!” he hisses. “Are you crazy? I could have stabbed you with my-”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Anderson. You know full well that I have no problems holding you down”, the other man smirks, the last of his words a low growl, as his lips are inching closer to Blaine’s. They breathe heavily, eyes ablaze, before Blaine crushes their mouths together, swallowing moans as they kiss hungrily.

Blaine breaks the kiss when he feels the pain in his leg soar. He hisses, “fuck” and is about to crumble to the ground. Strong arms hold him up though, and he slumps against the other man’s chest.
“Where were you? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Urgent words, mumbled into Blaine’s mop of curls.
“Missed me?” Blaine croaks sarcastically, and hangs his head as he closes his eyes to drown out the pain.
He can feel Hummel breathing in and out, deep breaths, calming him down, too, and he barely notices when he is picked up and carried down a tunnel.

****

Blaine wakes up, doesn’t know how much later, in Hummel’s quarters, as a warm wash cloth is pressed to his leg where he assumes the wound must be. He’s craning his neck to try and see what is happening, but a gentle hand pushes him down again. Someone must have changed him into more comfortable clothes; recognizes the shirt and pyjama bottoms from nights in the not too distant past. He smells like Kurt and realizes that he must have been here for a while.

“How long have I been out?”

Blaines’s mouth feels dry, his tongue lazy from too much sleep. He blinks, tries to move again. But then a warm body settles next to his, a hand coming up to stroke through his hair, a nose nuzzling at his throat.

“Kurt,” Blaine sighs and turns his head so that he can mouth at hot skin. Their lips meet in a kiss, soft, entirely too sweet, considering what hell lies outside of these walls. Kurt presses one lingering kiss to Blaine’s temple as he pulls him close, swinging an arm around his middle.

“You’ve been asleep for 2 days,” Kurt informs him. “Your leg isn’t as bad as it could have been. You should be good to walk again, but no venturing outside of the stadium.”
“But-”
“No. No arguing. General’s orders. Wes will take over your shifts.”
“He is not-”
Kurt cuts him off with a kiss, lips crushing, too much teeth, but, oh, Blaine forgets his protest the second he feels a hand come down on his ass cheeks.
“We can’t lose you,” Kurt breathes heavily, before kissing down Blaine’s neck, leaving tiny red marks where his teeth lightly bite into Blaine’s salty skin, all the while kneading Blaine’s ass with strong hands.
Blaine doesn’t know when he turned hard, but he gasps when Kurt sneaks a hand beneath the elastic band of Blaine’s pyjama bottoms to cup his straining hard-on.

“Shhh, just let me take care of you,” Kurt whispers, words hot against his ear, and he can only nod, moaning softly, as Kurt strokes him firmly. Up, flicking a thumb through pre-cum, down, covering his balls with his hand and squeezing softly. It’s still too rough, and just right all at once, but it’s not what Blaine needs right now.

“I need you,” Blaine breathes out and starts tugging at the hem of Kurt’s shirt. The other man halts, eyes gone dark, nods.
“Yes, yes, of course.”

Kurt scrambles out of bed, frantically tugging at clothes and stripping down to his boxer briefs in seconds. Blaine’s breathing hitches while watching the gorgeous man in front of him, marvelling at alabaster skin, flawless as the day they met despite everything. When Kurt turns around to open a drawer, he lets his butt sway from left to right, making Blaine smile. And it’s here, in the confines of the General Hummel’s private quarters that he forgets the hell he has been through and will have to go through again every single day for the rest of his life.

****

A little later, when Blaine is stripped naked, too, skin pressing down into cotton sheets, he isn’t sure if he’s shivering because of the cold or because a lean body is covering all of him and a strong finger dips down between his ass cheeks, circling around his hole. He is chanting Kurt’s name, as a lubed finger slowly presses in, carefully inching forward. Kurt works him open, adding another finger, gently stretching him out. He’s sliding down Blaine’s chest and presses kisses down his front until Kurt’s lips mouth over Blaine’s erection. He whimpers as Kurt bestows tiny kisses along his length, while adding a third finger. He isn’t prepared for the shock that runs through him when Kurt’s fingers brush over his prostrate.

“Kurt, now, please, I’m ready,” he huffs out and reaches for the tub of lube on the nightstand, digging in with two fingers. He can hear the tell-tale sound of foil ripping and sees Kurt pulling a condom over himself as he turns around again.
“Gorgeous, so gorgeous,” he breathes, barely above a whisper, as his fingers wrap around Kurt, spreading the lube.
Kurt hooks Blaine’s ankles over his shoulders and starts to push in, gentle, oh, so gentle, until he has found a rhythm.

“Harder, please,” Blaine asks him and Kurt starts fucking into him relentlessly. Blaine forgets everything around him, drowns in the sensation of Kurt pushing in and out of him, grabs at Kurt’s ass to drive him closer, trapping his own erection between them. This is where he feels safe: Kurt wrapped all around him, in him, skin against skin, hot breaths mingling; his own moans and the steady current of Kurt slapping against him the soundtrack to his ecstasy. He comes without warning, white streaks on Kurt’s broad chest, as he, too, cries out passionately and finally collapses on top of Blaine.

They lie together for a bit, arms wrapped around each other, not caring about the sticky mess between them, but also knowing that they don’t have all the time in the world.

“You.”
“What?” Blaine is confused, can maybe chalk it up to post-orgasm stupidity, but he really doesn’t know what Kurt is talking about.
“Before you left for your last mission, you asked me why we even still bother fighting the plague. I’m doing this for you.” He pauses. Chews his lip. Looks back up with so much… love there is so much love in his eyes. Or maybe Blaine just needs to believe it’s love.

“If it wasn’t for you, Blaine, I don’t think I’d still be alive. But the thought of maybe never getting to see you again? That’s too much to bear. So I’m doing everything I can just to see you one more time. One more kiss, one more night together, one more time holding you. Because this, this is bliss. And I didn’t think I could ever have that when-”
“So have the others been wondering why I got to stay in your quarters when there is a perfectly functioning hospital wing?” Blaine interrupts him. Because those words hurt like hell. Why is he telling him all that when, really, they don’t even have a together; When they’re hiding whatever they have from the others at headquarters?
Because when Blaine says that he hasn’t found love like he dreamed of, it’s only half true. He loves Kurt. He, too, does what he does because of Kurt. But how long will he be able to make himself go on living without hearing what he so desperately needs?

Kurt tips Blaine’s head a bit so he can look him directly in the eye. “I told them that I love you and that I won’t let anyone else take care of you.”
Blaine gapes and doesn’t think he has heard right. But then Kurt kisses him fiercely, and for a moment longer they forget the hell that lies behind these walls.

FIN