“Do you mind if I bother you a little, love?” Blaine asked his convalescing husband. Blaine knew he'd be keeping Kurt from rest if he joined him, rest that the doctor said Kurt desperately needed, but Blaine couldn't help himself. In a manor house fully employed with servants on every floor, including Kurt's personal maid and their own adopted daughter, Blaine felt desolate without his husband by his side.

He felt that some part of him was missing.

He would shoulder the guilt of keeping Kurt from peace if it meant feeling whole again, even for a little while.

“Hmm,” Kurt hummed, only half involved in the book laid open before him, his mind wandering elsewhere, pulling him occasionally into sleep, “no, my Lord. I would not mind if you bothered me a lot, even.”

The bed dipped when Blaine climbed upon it, unintentionally rocking the mattress, but he tried to do so gently, so as not to jostle Kurt's wounded shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, Blaine slid over, carefully shifting positions to fit against Kurt's back, relieving Kurt of the need to move. Blaine wound an arm around Kurt's waist, and as soon as both bodies settled comfortably together, trailed a hand up Kurt's chest to toy with the buttons of his shirt.

“I miss you, Kurt,” Blaine whispered. “You are not to be sick or injured ever again. I won't allow it.”

“How can you miss me, my Lord?” Kurt chuckled. “I am right here. I do not leave.”

“I miss your presence around the house” - Blaine undid Kurt's collar just enough to slip a hand inside and touch his smooth, warm skin - “I miss your singing, the sound of your footsteps, I miss you calling out to Marley, and laughing with Beth.”

“Well, if you and that blasted doctor would let me out of this bed,” Kurt groused, “I could be present in the house with you.”

“But you need to get well,” Blaine said, stung by the implication that he was holding Kurt captive for any other than his own good.

“I do realize that” – Kurt sighed – “but I am not entirely sure that goal wouldn't be reached by my sitting in a chair in the sunlight and feeling like part of the world again.”

“And how would you get your exceptional ass downstairs, my love,” Blaine asked, reaching down a hand to cup Kurt's rear, “since you cannot walk, and I cannot lift you?”

Kurt's lips quirked before he voiced an answer.

“You could ask Mr. Smythe to carry me downstairs, could you not?”

Blaine's body went rigid, but he made no move to leave.

“I will spank you, husband, if you speak like that again,” Blaine said, feigning menace. “Don't think I won't.”

“I don't think you can,” Kurt teased, but with some personal regret at the loss of a spanking, “considering my current health.”

“I will tally up all of your infractions, and then wait out your injury,” Blaine explained, smiling since he knew his husband couldn't see. “I warn you, my love, I am a patient man.”

“Not from what I have seen, my Lord,” Kurt giggled, but they silenced when a sharp pain radiated throughout his back. “And you would really do that? Gather up a list of my wrongdoings in this, my incapacitated state, and then punish me for them later?”

“I would,” Blaine said, darkly promising. “I will.”

“Well, then” - Kurt smirked - “in that case, summon Mr. Smythe here right away, for I wish to bathe.”

Blaine growled low in the back of his throat. He still couldn't find a way to be angry with his husband, though he was excellent at hiding his regard when need be.

“That remark may have crossed a line, husband,” Blaine said, irate.

“But…you know I didn't mean it, my love.” Kurt tried to turn over, but Blaine caught him, and held him just tight enough to stay him. “I am only having fun with you.”

“I know, my darling” - Blaine laid kisses gently down his neck - “I may not particularly enjoy your humor, but I can identify it when it shows itself.” Kurt kicked back with his leg, but missed, so Blaine brought his leg up to meet Kurt's foot. Kurt chuckled at that, but Blaine couldn't, and his lips went still as solemn thoughts from days prior crept in. “The truth is, I do not want to risk it. I do not want anything else to happen to you.”

“My Lord” – Kurt spoke quietly, turning his head till he could see the raven of Blaine's hair – “you cannot protect me forever. Not this way. Not by keeping me hidden.”

“I can try,” Blaine answered, his voice thick. “I could keep us here forever, have the gates built taller, make them three deep, cover them with locks and chains. I could bind us to Anderson Manor, and all within it, so that no one could enter or leave.”

“Ah, yes,” Kurt said, “that you could. And then I might go absolutely insane from boredom and strangle you in your sleep.” Kurt laughed in the hopes his husband would laugh with him, but he did not. He simply lay behind Kurt, thinking. His fingers stroked idly across Kurt's chest, the soft flesh beneath them flushing with his touch, rising and falling with Kurt's breaths, full of life, a talisman against Blaine's fear and pain.

“I know that you think me a strong man,” Blaine said, “but I am not. I truly am not. I play the part for you, and for Beth, and for everyone here who relies on me. Perhaps, before I met you, I was strong, but now, after almost losing you…” Blaine took in a breath that shook. “I fear that I may not feel strong again for a long time, my love. Not when I know that a world without you is possible. The thought of it…I cannot stand it.”

“My Lord” – Kurt lifted Blaine's hand to his lips and kissed it – “the danger is passed. For you, for me, and for Beth. I know I am no oracle, but I do not believe we shall see its like again in our lives.”

Blaine pressed his forehead lightly against the back of Kurt's head, to feel his silken hair against his skin. This position, with Blaine behind Kurt, was the one Kurt favored when they made love. He gloried in this closeness with his husband, in the way that Blaine's body wrapped around his, becoming a shelter for him, his place of safety to weather out the storm.

Kurt longed to be that for his husband, too.

“I wish I could…” Blaine started.

“…believe me?” Kurt finished on a wry note.

“Not at all,” Blaine said. “Of course, I believe you. I trust you more than anyone in my life. I was going to say that wish I could make love to you. Everything always seems right in the world when I have you in my arms.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” Kurt said sadly, wrapping his arms over Blaine's and squeezing as best he could, “but…there are other things, my Lord, that we can do instead.”

Blaine heard the bashful tone of Kurt's voice and his smile resurfaced. After all the times they'd made love, and in all the socially unacceptable ways, Kurt still became shy at the mention of physical intimacy…and Blaine adored it.

Too often did he enjoy exploiting it.

“Like…” Blaine egged Kurt on, though Blaine knew well what they could do. He dreamt about it every night that he slept beside his husband but could not touch him.

“You could go back to kissing my neck, my love?” he asked, hoping Blaine would.

“True,” Blaine said, putting new kisses over the old. “What else?”

“If you lie in front of me, I can touch you,” Kurt said. “I do not have strength yet in either of my hands, but…” Kurt sniffled at the mention of his hands. He had taken for granted his hands, he discovered, at this time when he could do nothing with them. He could not draw, could not write, could not design…

Could not pleasure his husband.

“Tis alright,” Blaine said, sighing into Kurt's skin, then breathing in his scent of rose water and vanilla. “Recover first. We can do all those things later…and more. We do not have to start today, or tomorrow. We can take our time. As long as I have you, my love, I need little else.”