Archive of Our Own

Day 2556, Age 18, Time: 23:21

Facts of the day:

• White male
• Name: Mikkel
• Middle class (enough to eat today)
• Long-term relationship (girl)
• Heteronormative sexual contact

B-
Awoke today with a small sibling sitting on my chest. Ended up being Tosh, four years old and completely bent on making quite sure I was awake for the day before toddling back downstairs to his (our) mother, which, of course, led to thoughts of mother. There was no time to muse, however, as the real ‘modor’ in this case arrived to rouse me and hurry me out the door with a bagel, bag in tow.

School was uneventful. I spent the morning in the library, using the internet to gather more information about the trigonometry I worked on as Sofie yesterday to solidify the concepts. I was well on my way before a thin brunette made her way over to me and promptly settled in my lap and was smothered with kisses before the librarian saw and kicked us out. ‘Liva’ then pulled me to “my” locker and unlocked it for me, so at least I was able to go to afternoon classes after gently prying my schedule from her before promising that I would “still be there tonight.” Tonight being her house alone.
I know it’s not the first time, and I am sure it won’t be the last, but it is always interesting when things end up this way. I never know what to say to them or how to act. I just go with what I think is right. I try to be the gentleman and stay detached. With her it was simple, like breathing. She undressed me and seemed to like that she was in control today. She said I made her feel beautiful.

II wonder what it’s like to feel beautiful for being me.

I know I’m me. I know it, B. I know I feel things and I know that when I wake tomorrow it will as someone else. Someone new.

But inside I’m me. Remember I’m me, please?

-B

Blaine doesn’t remember being born. He doesn’t remember the first time he realized that it was just him and his mom and that he didn’t know what a father was. He doesn’t remember the first day he tied his shoes and he doesn’t remember what it felt like to get his first tooth. He doesn’t remember what his bed felt like or even what it smelled like in his house.

But he does remember his mother’s face. The way she would smile at him until she thought he wasn’t looking and then turn her face away to cover her mouth, her forehead scrunching up in a sadness he didn’t understand. He remembers the way she would cradle him in her arms each night and never let him go, opting to sleep in the same bed as he did so she could “smell the shampoo in his hair and listen to him breathe” as the soundtrack to her dreams.

He doesn’t remember what he looked like as a toddler or what he was for halloween in second grade. He doesn’t remember how much he weighed at the end of fifth grade.

He does remember what they looked like, though. Grey suits and sunglasses like a spy movie. He had answered the door and they had asked for his mom. She had appeared in the kitchen doorway, arms soapy from the dishwater in the sink, hair in a bun at the top of her head. He remembers how her jaw had tightened as she pulled herself to her full height and welcomed them into the house, gesturing for them to take a seat on the hunter green couch with its plushy soft pillows that Blaine had made into forts just two years before on his tenth birthday.

He remembers being ushered into his bedroom and blinking owlishly at his door as his mother closed it behind her to talk with their guests. Guests he had never met nor seen before.

He remembers sneaking down the hall on his hands and knees, pretending to be a spy like the men in his house even though yeah, twelve was a little old for spy stuff but, he had reasoned, no one would ever know.

He doesn’t remember what he was wearing that day or the dinner that they had eaten.

But he does remember his mother crying, begging.

He remembers hearing her swear - his mother had never swore - about being foolish and young and her saying that Marcus was never worth it.

Marcus?

He remembers the men; their calm voices and the one sentence that carried over to him.

“You’ll be taken care of.”

He remembers the clear, stinging sound of his mother’s hand slapping the man’s face. Her words to him.

“I don’t care about me. He’s my baby. He’s what I have.”

He remembers most, now, the man’s last words.

“Then enjoy the time you have left, ma'am.”

***

They aren’t allowed contact. The families. It’s too hard, too much for them to control. Too many times parents have tried to find, hold, keep, and threatened to upset the balance.

An experiment gone wrong, they said. A “genetic mishap” that affected so few, they explained.

Blaine didn’t really care about that part. He didn’t really understand the nature of his condition. He just knew that his life operated in cycles. Each day was a cycle.

Wake up.
Assess the environment.
Determine gender.
Determine Safety.
Never get too attached.
Avoid being Noticed.
Do not interfere.

Today he had been Mikkel, final year student at Niels Steensens Gymnasium in Copenhagen, Denmark. Mikkel, with his blond hair and green eyes, a younger brother who obviously adored him and parents who cared for him as well, trusted him enough to go to his girlfriend’s house alone.

He had been in Copenhagen for nearly four months now.

His mind sifted through the faces he had been over the past four months here, flipping through every imaginable difference: black, white, brown, disabled, mentally challenged. Those days were remembered not because he couldn’t think on his own but because he had to be mindful to act as though he didn’t know a thing, trapped inside the body of someone not accustomed to movement.

There were no emails to himself on those days because, well, it would’ve seemed odd to the parents even if he could come across a computer.

Before Copenhagen had been Sydney for a meager two weeks, and Pakistan for two months before that.

The email address was always the same, the place he was sitting was just different. Except for the five-month blackout in Ghana when he was 14. But he didn’t need emails to remember that.

Blaine settled into Mikkel’s bed, wondering for the millionth time what his counterpart would think when he awoke the next morning. Would he remember Blaine’s day? Would he think he slept the whole time? Would his girlfriend talk about the sex they had had only to have Mikkel scold her?

Blaine would never know - could never know, as he had never had the opportunity to ask.

Just one more of the mysteries of being him.

As he drifted to sleep he wondered where he would awake in the morning.

***
”But why, mommy? Why will this happen?”

Blaine’s mother rocked her son in the pale light streaming in from the streetlamps, the slow groan of old wood the only sound for a moment.

“Blaine, you know what we talked about? About how children are made?”

Blaine blushed at the memory of the conversation, having had it only a few months ago after his first time on the middle and high school bus.

“Ye-ees,” he replied tentatively, not wanting to rehash the embarrassing conversation.

“Well, your daddy was like this, like you, and I didn’t really know it. I just knew that he came into my life and then was...gone. He...he didn’t know that I was a carrier for this gene and neither did I. But here I am, with you. You’re wonderful, Blaine. You’re perfect. It’s all going to be alright. The- the men, they told me ways you can adapt. Ways you can keep yourself together and-”

“But why can’t I just stay with you, mom? Or at least talk to you? I just-” Blaine interrupted, wet eyes staining his mother’s thin pajamas.”

“No, Blaine. It’s...It’s just forbidden. I wouldn’t be able to find you anyway and people have...people have hurt themselves, hurt others, even, trying to find their children. We just-” His mother had stopped then, her shoulders slumping, kisses pressed to Blaine’s forehead and tears mingling with his on his cheeks. They held each other like this for awhile, silent but for the occasional shuddery sigh or sniffle before Blaine attempted to speak again.

“I know the rules, mommy. I know them. I don’t think I’ll ever really understand why but...I’ll try. For you, mom. Because I’m brave. I can do this and maybe someday something will change and-”

His mom had sighed, the wish so sharp it ached.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore tonight, Blaine. Let’s just...be together.” She smoothed his hair and held his face in her palms, his eyebrows knitted together, as she began to hum Brahm’s Lullaby, his favorite, his long limbs hanging far beyond her lap, neither of them caring one bit as his arms tightened around her neck.

They breathe.

***

“Santana, you better be up, mija!”

Blaine arches his back, stretching without opening his eyes, the spanish lilt of the female voice through the door settling into his brain.

Assess the environment.

Comfortable bed.
Parent who cares to wake me up.
Ability to move all limbs.

Okay.

Female.

Safe.

Blaine opens his eyes, hands sliding down his sides, taking note of the body he is in today. He traces the lines of his hips with delicate fingertips and then brings them up to his face, feeling his full lips, the gentle slope of his nose.

He knows when he gets out of bed and looks in a mirror he will be beautiful.

He takes in the room, a computer on the desk strewn with cosmetics and picture frames, a closet open to reveal three cheerleader uniforms, meticulously pressed.

He groans, hoping today is not a cheering day, before sitting up and craning his neck around to look behind the bed, noting a Bob Marley poster on the wall.

“I’m up!” he yells through the door, surprised at the strength in his voice, and then slips off the covers, standing with strong, smooth legs on the floor and taking in the pictures on the desk. He has found, over the years, that pictures in the room of the person he’s occupying are the biggest help to making it through his day, as the pictures that his host usually chooses are the ones that they hold nearest and dearest...show who the person is and what they value.

Days with no home or no pictures are usually the hardest.

His eyes devour the snapshots, pulling in as much information about his host as possible.

Santana in front of him:

Smiling with an older woman, her eyes shining.

With her arms wrapped around herself, standing to the side of a group of people who look like they’re singing.

As part of a cheerleading pyramid.

With her arms around two blond women, herself in the middle, a playful look in her eye.

In a red dress, kissing one of the women from the previous picture. The other woman is in a dress as well. Maybe a prom?

So no kissing boys today.

Blaine feels a tiny stab of sadness at this. It’s not that he doesn’t like women - on the contrary, half the time he IS a woman, so he sees their appeal, the way they are and how they interact with each other has become less of a mystery to him over time. He has just found, over the same years, that men spark something within him - call it attraction, sexuality, whatever you will - and the idea of being in love with a man is very appealing to him.

If he could ever fall in love.

Which he still isn’t sure about.

Blaine makes his way over to the full-length mirror and just takes Santana in. Having looked at the pictures he already knows she is beautiful, but real life is that much more stunning. Her hair, although slept on, is a rich, shiny black, her eyelashes long and her lips are, indeed, full. She has the long limbs of a dancer or cheerleader, the tone of an athlete, and the manicure of a lady.

He knows he’s going to have to be confident as this one today.

He hums to himself, happy to find that Santana must have some vocal training, as he makes his way to the closet to get his cheerleading uniform. She had been in it in every picture, and he wants to look the part, if only for one day.

He’s not in Denmark anymore, after all.

***
After he’s showered and dressed, Blaine’s scouring his room for a hair tie and hoping that his ponytail skills are enough when the cell phone on the bedside table starts to ring.

And I love you I love you, I love you...like never before...”

The old Fleetwood Mac song cuts off as Blaine answers, a picture of the blonde girl with the name “Brittany” as the contact.

“Uh, good morning,” he begins, not knowing exactly how Santana starts these things.

“Hi. Lord Tubbington says I need to remind you that I’m picking you up. He says you’re awfully weird today but he won’t say more. So I’ll see you soon?”

Blaine pulls the phone away from his ear to look at it as though it will tell him what this odd girl is talking about, and who the the world Lord Tubbington is, but he can hear Brittany talking again so he lifts it back to his ear.

“Yeah, so soon, okay? Love you.”

“I, uh, love you, too Brittany,” he gets out, mindful of her name.

He hears her laugh and then: “Wow, you ARE weird today. It’s been so long since you called me that!”

Blaine knows he’s caught and then she’s talking again.

“It’s okay, honey. I know something’s weird today. Don’t worry. I’ll bring glitter and we’ll make it.”

Blaine stares at the phone again, the call disconnecting. He shakes it off, though, reaching for an errant hair tie with a noise of victory before turning to the mirror to finish preparing for the day.

***

Somehow Blaine made it through the car ride with Brittany, no small feat considering he had a lot of difficulty following the...odd things that she had to say. Before long, though, they are pulling up in front of McKinley High - a normal looking all-american high school, Blaine guesses, as he can see the football field from the parking lot and students are streaming into the front doors, some dressed in red and white like he is, others just milling around in groups and staring at the two of them getting out of Brittany’s car.

“Do they always stare like this?” he finds himself asking before snapping his mouth shut as Brittany turns to answer.

“Of course they do, we’re hot.” She leans in to kiss Sananta’s cheek, threading her fingers through Blaine’s and pulling Santana’s body close. “And everyone wants to be us, even the boys. The boys the most, I think, because I heard them talking about our sex tape again and-”

Blaine completely loses the thread of conversation, though, because there’s a boy walking toward them. Not really a boy, though, because he’s obviously growing into full-out man, his white tailored shirt hugging his broad shoulders, his trim waist accentuated by the vest he’s got painted on. His pants are positively sinful, hugging his hips tightly while black boots lace all the way up his calves. Blaine’s breath catches in his throat and he feels his blood burn just looking at this boy - man. He’s just-

“Greetings, Brit,” the man trills, sending tingling socks down Blaine’s spine and, to his utter humiliation, through his nipples. Why a girl today? Why? WHY? “-Devilwoman.” the man finishes, obviously directing his nickname at Blaine. Wait, devilwoman...?

He’s looking at Blaine like he’s expecting something and Blaine flounders, reaching his hand up to cover his chest and cough - as convincingly as possible - to get out of whatever it is he’s expecting. The man just watches him as though he’s some sort of experiment before looking down at him from his nose and refocusing on Brittany.

“Well, I’m just here to remind you that you are dueting today. Ms. Rachel Berry insisted that I remind you even though you clearly never forget a cue.” He stopped to look at Santana again. “Except maybe right now.”

Blaine knows he should quip back but he just can’t. Not when he’s looking into those blue eyes and-

“Kurt, you need to be nice to Santana today. Lord Tubbington said she’s not herself.”

Blaine watches as the man - Kurt - snorts derisively toward Brittany before patting her arm.

“Okay, Britt. Let’s just go before we’re all late for class.”

They all turn toward the direction of the doors, Kurt settling into step next to Brittany as she chatters on about her cat. Blaine watches Kurt’s long legs and smooth gait as the doors grow ever closer before rushing forward and pulling the heavy metal and glass door open.

“After you,” he hears himself say in Santana’s smooth purr of a voice. Brittany giggles and then sweeps into the hallway, oblivious to the fact that “Santana” is still holding the door for Kurt, the boy in question frozen in place before the doorway. “You, too, Kurt,” Blaine breathes softly, tasting his name on Santana's tongue and wishing he knew what it would sound like in his voice.

Kurt just stands there, his eyes locked with Blaine’s with an odd look on his face before speaking.

“You really aren’t yourself today, are you she-devil? No one’s ever- I mean, Sebastian doesn’t even-” Kurt flushes red at that and then seems to pull himself together before continuing. “Um, thank you? For the door.” he gets out before scampering through, holding his bag tight to his chest.

“You’re welcome,” Blaine says brightly, wondering how to get through this day now that Kurt exists.

***

Three hours later and Blaine hasn’t gotten any further in knowing how to deal with Kurt, but he is starting to understand what Santana is like on a daily basis.

Male AND female students seem to stay out of her way, almost parting in the hallways for her to go through. Brittany somehow always materializes next to her after classes, vanishing with a quick kiss to the cheek as Santana enters a classroom and reappearing like clockwork at the end. His first three classes - calculus, AP english (the class he raised an eyebrow at because whoa, moldbreaker, and European History - weren’t all the horrible as Blaine had been through many variations of the same all over the country, and the world. He had learned long ago to listen quietly, answer only when spoken to, and that a smile went a long way when he didn’t really know the answer to a teacher’s question.

Brittany’s with him now, her weight leaning into Santana’s side, as they make their way to the lunchroom. Blaine knows the moment they’ve reached the eating space simply by the amount of noise trickling out into the hallway, and he pulls Brittany closer, just to make sure they aren’t separated.

“Ooh, hi,” Brittany breathes against his neck and he would’ve responded, at least tried, if Kurt hadn’t been sitting on a bench alone, sitting sideways along the bend with one foot planted firmly on the ground and the other leg bent up at the knee, the sole of his boot sitting solidly on the bench. He was sitting with one elbow on the table, his cell phone balanced on his knee, one hand typing at it while the other is swiping furiously at the screen.

From Blaine’s viewpoint he can see everything and it takes his breath for a moment. The long line of Kurt’s legs, the tension in his shoulders as his vest clings to the muscles there, the sharp curve of his jawline and elegant cant of his profile.

Blaine knows, he knows he has never seen a more beautiful human being before.

And that’s saying something.

Brittany’s stopped talking, at least for the moment, so he leads them to where Kurt is sitting. Once they are closer, however, Blaine can see that something on Kurt’s phone has bothered him. The crease between his eyebrows, the scowl on his lips, and the little moaning noise he’s making just solidify this idea as Blaine moves to sit down across from Kurt, waiting for him to lift his head.

Brittany stays standing, looking between Santana and Kurt before turning to the lunch line, tossing a “I’ll get yours, too!” over her shoulder at the table.

Blaine’s hands immediately begin to sweat, his own thoughts taking over Santana’s physical reactions, and he aches to touch Kurt’s shoulder, to make him look up, to erase the worry on his face. Blaine is nothing if not patient, however, having been trapped in the ruined shells of bodies with debilitating illness, limited mobility, or the inability to speak.

Sometimes even all three.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though, before Kurt is practically slamming his phone down onto the table, seemingly unaware of Santana’s presence, before looking up, all fiery eyes and thin-lipped anger.

“Bad day?” Santana’s dusky voice asks.

Kurt cocks his head and lifts his chin, appraising Satana for a moment before slumping his shoulders in defeat.

“I guess I can talk to you about this because you seem genuinely interested. But so help me Santana, if you mock me on this one, I’ll-”

“No, no, I wouldn’t,” Blaine rushes to talk over Kurt, just wanting to hear what he says.

Kurt stares at him for a moment, considering, flicking his gaze to where Brittany’s waving to them from the long line and then settling his gaze back on Santana.

“I don’t know who you are today, but it looks good on you, Satan.” Kurt begins, physically settling himself into the conversation by bringing both legs underneath the table and leaning in to talk to Blaine almost conspiratorially.

“Remember that time we talked about sex, Santana?” Kurt begins, his cheeks reddening, his teeth coming out to bite at his lower lip as his right hand floats up unconsciously to rub at the exposed area of his neck. Kurt searches Santana’s eyes, begging him to help, to make him feel safe.

“Yes,” Blaine lies seamlessly, wanting nothing but to help in this moment, “I do, so what’s up?”

Kurt sighs, putting his head down on the table and breathing out loudly, his body seeming to melt into the surface.

“I just can’t, San. I can’t. And Sebastian just...he...I-” Kurt lifts his head, his eyes swimming with tears before he physically reins himself in, wiping furiously as he continues, “It’s not like we haven’t done things, okay? But there are things and then there are things and I know you get it, and you said last time to ‘never let a fucker fuck you’-” he says this last part with a little shiver and air quotes and Blaine thinks that just might be the defining quote for his understanding of Santana all day before Kurt’s continuing. “-and I don’t want to just be, um,” he stops again, lowering his voice and reddening ever more, “-fucked, oh my god I can’t believe I said that, but I don’t. I want more than that for me, Santana. I mean YOU said it, and my DAD said it and...”

Kurt seems to realize that he’s just told Santana that he talks to his dad about sex because suddenly his eyes are on Santana’s, his whole body rigid as if waiting for her to strike and-

“You are worth more than that, Kurt,” Blaine whispers, knowing for sure that it’s not what the real Santana might say but not really caring at the moment. “I mean, I know we’re not like, besties, or whatever,” he rushes on, trying to hold on to some semblance of the Santana everyone seems to be wary of, “But you’re beautiful, Kurt. Just, honestly, I- I’d like to know you more and help, if I can.”

Kurt sits up straighter, wincing at the word “beautiful” and then sitting open mouthed, looking at Santana like she’s the sun.

“Are you picking on me, San? Calling me a beautiful girl?”

Kurt’s eyes are slits, and Blaine realizes that this term has been used to hurt, mock, tear and burn Kurt from the inside out and he can’t have him thinking that he’d - that SANTANA would do that.

“Absolutely not. I’m serious. So what’s going on?”

He tries to sound nonchalant, picking at the notebook on the table in front of him and avoiding Kurt’s gaze, letting the boy consider Santana without the weight of her gaze. He knows when Kurt’s made up his mind because he draws a breath and continues.

“Thank you, then, I guess. I...okay, so I’m having trouble in my trig class and I need to study tonight. The people in that class are a bunch of homophobes and meatheads and so there’s no one to work with and Sebastian-” his voice goes dark and that’s what makes Blaine look again, Kurt’s face a mixture of anger and sadness as he stares at the table and it makes Blaine just ache to gather him up and hold Kurt, show him that he matters and-

“-and Sebastian just keeps laughing it off and saying he has “needs” for tonight. He...I mean, he loves me, San, in his own way, but why can’t he just take this seriously? I need to get a good grade on the test tomorrow so I can stop stressing out but he’s just so focused on, on well, other things.”

Kurt’s staring at him, waiting for a reply, when Brittany returns with a mountain of food and three cups of ice water.

“I got you the sparkliest food I could, Kurt. I don’t know what unicorns eat.”

That shakes them both and they turn to eye Brittany, then Kurt’s eyes drop to the tray she’s set in front of them.

Blaine hears himself as Santana starts to snicker, because apparently the “sparkliest” food on the menu today are oil-drenched tater tots, their greasy exteriors reflecting the glaring fluorescent lighting.

Blaine looks to Kurt and chuckles even louder because if ‘disgust’ had a picture in the dictionary, it would be Kurt’s face looking down at those tater tots. He watches as Kurt schools himself, apparently for Brittany’s sake, and looks up at her sweetly.

“Oh, honey. Thank you so much for offering but I am actually still full from breakfast,” he says, grabbing for his ice water and picking up his phone again.

Blaine settles in with his lunch - more tater tots and a tuna salad sandwich - and considers Kurt for many minutes before deciding to speak.

Don’t interfere, don't interfere, don’t-

“I can help you with trig tonight.”

Kurt’s eyes shoot up at the same time that he feels Brittany turn her head to look at him.

“But San, I thought that tonight we were-” Brittany begins, but Blaine speaks over her.

“Britts,” and thank god he had seen a note from Brittany in his locker for that one, “I think that what we had planned would be nice but Kurt obviously needs our help here. Apparently Sebastian is being a fucker.”

As Blaine says the last word he looks up, hoping not to have said the wrong thing. But Kurt’s smiling at him like he’s some sort of strange new bing and Brittany’s smiling, too, but her face is filled with love.

“Awww, I knew you loved him as much as I do!” she gushes before Blaine finds himself with a lap full of Brittany, her lips fused to Santana’s neck. He looks up at Kurt sheepishly, and finds Kurt grinning madly.

“I’ll just text Sebastian and tell him you’re going to help me, and that’s that.” He watches as Kurt picks up his phone, face set determinedly.

He shouldn’t have to worry about it so much, Blaine has time to think, before extricating himself from Brittany’s wandering mouth to eat his lunch.

***

Blaine pulls up to Kurt’s house at half past five, thankful for Santana’s cell phone GPS, his muscles sore and his ears singing from Coach Sylvester’s incessant bellowing.

Apparently Santana’s muscles have memory for doing some things but that doesn’t help him know anything about a cheerleading routine.

Maybe she wasn’t serious about kicking Santana off the squad.

He hopes.

He climbs out of the car, dressed casually now in low-slung red capri sweatpants and a black tank top he had found in Santana’s cheerio locker, and glances nervously at the house. He wishes he had something else to wear, feeling very exposed in these clothes but not wanting to put the sweat-in uniform back on after Santana’s shower.

Not like Kurt’s going to care or notice, really.

He squares Santana’s shoulders and shuts the car door, carrying only his cell phone and keys and makes his way to Kurt’s door. It’s September and the air is still warm in the evenings, but the air has the gentle aroma of leaves dried and fading, of trees sinking down into their bark as autumn creeps in. It’s one of Blaine’s favorite smells anywhere he’s ever been and he’s thankful for it now, the familiarity of it grounding him. He finds himself on the stoop and leans in to ring the bell.

***
Kurt’s in the kitchen when he hears the doorbell. He pushes the casserole hes’ just made into the oven, sets the timer and then wipes his hands on the towel hanging from the refrigerator handle before moving toward the entryway. He passes the arch into the living room, leaning his head in as he goes.

“Santana’s here to help me with some trig, Finn. Remember to be nice,” he hisses, reminded of the way Finn’s face had fallen into a thoughtful scowl when kurt had mentioned her arrival. Finn barely glances up from where he’s watching some movie as he replies, “Sure, whatever man,” and keeps watching.

Kurt shakes his head and sighs, reaching the door and pulling it open. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight streaming in from the sun, low on the horizon. As they do, however, he sees Santana, standing without her uniform or any makeup on, her hands pulling nervously at the bottom of her tank top, one lip trapped between her teeth.

He’s never seen her like this before. Then again, he’s never really seen Santana act anything like she has today before so there’s that...and really, it’s her eyes. Kurt feels almost like he should look away, a flush forming on his cheeks as she gazes at him.

It’s like she’s never seen him before, or like he’s the meaning to something wonderful. He’s never been looked at by anyone this way, man or woman, and he’s not sure how he’s suppose to feel about it.

All in all it’s been very confusing being Santana’s friend today.

Nonetheless, she is here to help him study and so-

“Welcome, San, please, please come in. Would you like something to drink?”

He watches as she steps purposely into his home for the first time, her eyes darting here and there, taking in the photographs hanging everywhere in the hall.

“No, thanks. Who’s this? And where do you want to um, study?” she asks, glancing at Kurt and then back to the photographs.

Kurt laughs and reaches up to settle his hand at his neck before replying, “You do get right to the point, don’t you?”

She turns to look at him, taking in his stance.

“I do. You know that about me, Hummel.”

Kurt chuckles again and loosens up. Same old Santana. Nothing to worry about here.

“Okay, well. We’re going to study in my room because Finn has taken over the living room and sounds of some sort of cinematic war will be distracting for me and that is my mother and me when I was five so she had to be...twenty-seven?”

Santana seems to take in the picture with more focus this time, her lips drawing down into a sad grimace. Kurt finds himself wondering what she is thinking but before he can ask she moves, taking his hand and pulling it.

“Well then, pretty boy, let’s get to it before the night’s all gone.”

Kurt decides to stop trying to figure her out then and there and just moves with her, moving past the living room in a blur and on up the stairs to his room.

***

Blaine had had to move from the photograph before tears threatened to gather in his eyes that already burned. Being reminded of mothers - any mothers - were a sore subject and one that Blaine didn’t dare linger on. It hurt too much.

He stopped leading on the stairs, letting Kurt overtake him and then followed him into his room where they are standing now, Blaine standing still in the center of it, taking in the essence of Kurt in the room.

He feels like he can tell so much from this space. How Kurt doesn’t have posters on his walls or a television in his room to distract him - but he does have tasteful knick knacks and photographs. He doesn’t have a huge amount of space, but what he does have is an alcove where a grand mirror and elegant-looking settee sit with a counter carefully organized with various products sits. His bed is made and the whole area is impeccably neat.

Blaine has the sudden urge to put Kurt back onto his bed and kiss him senseless but he doesn’t think that will go over too well considering he’s a.) not his boyfriend and b.) not a boy.

Blaine has the fleeting thought that he hopes tomorrow he’ll still be in Lima, close enough to Kurt to know more about this boy he’s barely scratched the surface of but wants to dive headfirst into.

“Is it okay to look at your pictures in here?” he asked Kurt as Kurt pulls at his backpack and starts settling notebooks and papers across his bedspread.

“Knock yourself out, I’m just going to get everything out and make it easier for us to sort through,” Kurt answers, seemingly immersed in his task.

Blaine does look then, through pictures of a smiling Kurt with an older, balder man with coveralls on who could literally be Kurt’s opposite in every way. A picture of Kurt with Finn, both in tuxes, with the bald man again (Kurt’s father?), this time in a tux as well and a laughing older woman in a wedding dress.

There are no other pictures of Kurt’s mother here.

On another shelf there are pictures of Kurt with what look like friends, all of them dressed in the same outfits and singing, another where he’s in a football uniform and being bearhugged by Finn, and still another where he’s dressed as what looks like Lady Gaga.

So many sides of Kurt Blaine would like to know more about. His chest burns and his fingertips tingle as he looks at Kurt dressed for what looks like a prom - proper tuxedo jacket and all...until you look lower and see a highly fashionable kilt.

This is the photo that makes Blaine begin to shake because standing beside Kurt, in a proper tuxedo as well, is the man that can only be Sebastian. He’s smiling toward the camera and holding Kurt’s waist possessively, Kurt’s body angled a bit away with a small smile on his face. Something about the photo feels forced to Blaine.

Or maybe it’s just Blaine’s eyes telling him what he wants to see.

To the right of this photo are more of Sebastian and Kurt - obviously shot over the summer and in various states of undress. At a pool party, Sebastian jumping into the pool and Kurt backing away, lounging on beach chairs, Sebastian grabbing at Kurt’s shirt and Kurt holding it down.

None of them scream, “I’m happy!” to Blaine.

But again, he could be wrong.

Kurt clears his throat behind him, and Blaine turns to look at him.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asks, his keen eyes watching Santana’s body closely.

“Sure, let’s do this,” Blaine replies, settling onto the floor next to the bed with his legs curled under him, his arms and chin on the bedspread.

Kurt looks at Santana again, his eyes full of questions, but all he says is, “Okay.”

***

Two hours later and Kurt's feeling better – he's found that he wasn’t' nearly as lost as he thought he was, and he's confident that he's going to ace the test he has the next day. They're clearing things up when Blaine has the courage to ask about Sebastian.

“Kurt,” he begins, licking Santana's lips where he's been worrying them all day, “Why are you, I mean, Sebastian. He seems kind of-”

Blaine watches as Kurt pulls into himself, shuttering his face and pulling into his shell in front of Blaine's eyes.

Shit, Blaine thought, This is exactly what I didn't want.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean-” Blaine begins, but Kurt holds up his finger in a “wait” gesture and Blaine stops talking, watching as Kurt takes a few deep breaths and then looks right into Santana's eyes.

“I know you probably think I'm stupid,” he begins, his voice barely a whisper, and Blaine climbs back onto the bed next to him, resting his hand gently on Kurt's knee as he talks. The gesture stops Kurt's speech and he looks down at the hand on his knee for a moment before looking back to Santana, that same question in his eyes.

Blaine, for his part, has forgotten the boundaries he needs to hold, has forgotten about not getting involved and has seen the pain on his face which is why he reached out to touch, to help somehow. But now his fingertips burn as if he's juggling hot coals and he aches to reach his hand higher, to cup Kurt's jaw and make him see the way Blaine sees him.

Kurt just keeps looking at him, at Santana's eyes, and Blaine knows he needs to help things along, draw Kurt's attention back to the question instead of the hand burning burning burning on his knee.

“You'll never seem stupid to me, Kurt,” Blaine soothes, hoping that his voice conveys the confidence he feels.

Kurt stares another moment and then visibly shakes himself, finding the thread of his previous thought and continuing to speak.

“You know how it was, Santana. Hell, you were even one of the ones who always made fun of me. It gets pretty old hearing “lady boy” and “girly man” over and over again, from men and women. I just- I never belonged anywhere, you know? No one saw me as sexy or desirable and then Sebastian came and...and I know he's not perfect, and sometimes I just don't know if he cares at all, really, but he likes me, San, or he says he does and I just..” Kurt trails off, tears sliding down his cheeks in earnest now, and Blaine just wants so badly to help, to hold this beautiful boy in his arms and listen to him talk, to ask him to sing if that's what he likes, to find out why his room looks more like a fashion house than an 18-year-old boy's room and-

“...what if no one else ever likes me, Santana? What if this is all I get?”

At that moment the doorbell's ringing and they hear Finn's elephant steps below them. Kurt hurriedly wipes his eyes and face, practically leaping off the bed to sit at his mirror while he scoops up lotions and wipes. Blaine stares at his hand on the comforter, the same one that had just been touching Kurt a moment ago, while footsteps come quickly up the stairs behind him.
“Well if it isn't my favorite lesbian,” sneers a voice from the doorway, and Blaine doesn't have to turn to look to know who he'll see.

Apparently Sebastian is going to have his “needs” fulfilled tonight anyway.

Something dark and hard coils in Blaine's chest and he feels all of Santana's muscles tense as he turns to see Sebastian leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and looking just as haughty as his voice made him sound.

“Well, it's always nice to see a properly cared for stud,” Blaine begins, and Sebastian's face lifts into a smile. “I'd recognize that horse face anywhere.”

For a moment Sebastian continues to smile, but then Blaine's words sink in and his features darken as anger replaces arrogance.

“Santana!” Kurt exclaims from the alcove, jumping up from the chaise and crossing to where she's sitting. “I think it's time for you to go.”

Blaine stands up, looking between Sebastian and Kurt, furtively wishing he had kept his thoughts to himself, when Sebastian cuts into his thoughts.

“It's okay, baby. She's just playing with me. Maybe she really, really misses dick and that's why she's so cranky, right ma-ma-seeeee-ta?”

Blaine scowls at him but moves toward the door anyway, catching what Sebastian's saying to Kurt as he reaches the doorway. “And why are you cleaning your face right now? I'm just going to dirty it up, anyway, right? Don't worry, it doesn't matter what you do to it, it's still gay.”

Blaine's fists ball in anger but he forces himself down the stairs and out the door, knowing there's nothing more he can do for Kurt tonight.

On the drive home, he cries.

***

Day 2557, Age 18, Time: 20:45

Facts of the Day:

• Hispanic Female
• Name: Santana
• Lower Middle class
• Long-term relationship (girl)

B-
I don't really know how to start and I don't know where this will lead but suffice to say this day was the most confusing I've ever had, and that is saying a lot considering my constant state of flux. I met someone today. Someone who has changed my life, who makes me want to break all the rules and stay in this body or somehow near him and just...

I think...I think I know what it feels like to want someone. To want to love them. I just want to know more about him, about why he chooses to be with that asshole Sebastian, about why he doesn't think he's worth more when he's so perfect and different and-

I don't even know what I'm doing. Maybe this is like before where I'll stay for a while, maybe not. Maybe I'll never see him again. Maybe it doesn't matter what I want, ever, and I stay this way until I die somehow.

Today is the first day that that is really, totally, and irrevocably terrifying.

I want to know him more. I want to touch his skin and taste his mouth.

Why can't I just be me? Whoever me is? Where even is my body? I don't know and mom never said and those DAMNED men were no help at all. Why can't I just have this? This one thing to hold on to? He's everything and I'm just-

I just- I can't-

Time: 23.57

This can't be love if I can't love him like he deserves – with no secrets and no weirdness and all that I am...which is nothing, nothing sometimes.

-B

***

You're beautiful.” That's what Santana had said. Worth more than this. More than Sebastian coming against him and not even bothering to reciprocate, leaving Kurt feeling used and dirty in his bedroom as he left, insisting he'd “get into trouble for getting home late.”

But it wasn't so much Santana's words as her eyes. She had watched him like she had never seen him before. Watched him like he was special. Like he meant something more.

It was both flattering and unsettling at the same time, and it was confusing the hell out of Kurt more than anything.

He lifts his hands to beat at his pillows, turning them over to find a cool spot for his head while he watches the clock change over to 2:34am.

He needs to forget about it. Let it go and see how Santana acts tomorrow – sure to be back to her old bitchy self.

But...I'm worth more.

Part 7

Kurt is already sick of this day and it’s only half over.

He had woken to find that Finn, in his infinite stupidity, had forgotten to check the shower bar before turning on the water and had drenched the shirt as well as the vest hanging next to it. Kurt supposed that he had a hand in this turn of events, since he had been so distracted before going to bed that he had forgotten to bring his clothes upstairs, but still. It did not bode well for the rest of the day when he was already exhausted, his skin in horrible shape due to lack of sleep, and his mind was swimming with questions.

Things had only gotten worse when he had run into Satana on the way into school again. He had tentatively walked toward the door when she had opened it for Brittany, only to have Santana notice him and bite out, “Jesus, Hummel. Which one of us is the girl here?”

He had followed behind them, listening intently as Santana had regaled Brittany with the story of her mother calling her doctor early this morning when she swore it was yesterday upon waking, and that she was calling someone if they didn’t figure out how she missed a whole day in some kind of short-term-memory-loss fog because of her new allergy medication.

Kurt had felt like he had been punched.

So sitting here, now, with Glee Club about to start, he has no real motivation to talk to anyone or do, well, anything really. Not when apparent allergy-medicine-induced camaraderie was all yesterday was for Santana.

He really is alone again.

He’s sitting in his chair, wallowing in these thoughts when a commotion in the doorway pulls him out of his reverie.

Santana’s pushing Puck through the door, loudly berating him.

“What were you even doing there? You know it’s the library, right? You’re supposed to be singing today. Apparently I did yesterday so you’re not getting out of singing to us that easily.” She stuffs Puck in the chair next to Kurt’s and Kurt has time to actually look at him now that he’s not being manhandled.

Puck looks like he’s terrified to be in the choir room. This alone gives Kurt pause, but it’s his appearance as well. It looks like he - well, it looks like he dressed nicely for the day. While Kurt’s pondering this strange development Puck turns his head and looks into him.

Not at him. Into him. He’s never really felt like someone has looked into him except...well...Santana. Just yesterday and-

“You look so nice today, Kurt.” Puck says, dropping his eyes and-

Kurt’s eyes widen and really, his eyes must be playing tricks on him because Puck is blushing. Honest to god, BLUSHING. Kurt feels his face drain and his limbs go slack because something is seriously going on around here. Something that he needs to get to the bottom of because if not, he knows he will surely begin to lose his mind.

“Uhhum,” he croaks out before clearing his throat and starting again, “That means ever so much coming from someone as fashionable as yourself,” he gets out, watching as Puck seems to blanch, his whole body pulling in, eyes shuttering and pulling from Kurt’s gaze.

Kurt flounders for a moment, wondering where to go from here. It takes a moment before he finds a thread and grasps it.

“What were you doing in the library, anyway? You know the last time you almost got Santana suspended.” Kurt eyes Puck, waiting to see his reaction. It comes smoothly and quickly, and Kurt almost misses the astonished look on Puck’s face - would’ve if he hadn’t been looking for it - before Puck’s replying.

“Oh, that? I, um, I thought they got over that.” Puck tries a laugh, but to Kurt’s ears it sounds forced and hesitant.

Yes. Something strange is going on.

“Yeah, so I don’t think Santana will forget anytime soon. Blaming someone for setting fire to the nonfiction section regarding pyrotechnics is not usually the way to go, so...”

Kurt watched Puck take this in, knowing full well it was a flat-out lie. Whoever would do something like that would have been expelled. Puck’s face twitched and then he smiled and Kurt knew the jig was up.

“Well, I’m sure the librarian enjoyed the show, so they should all get over it, right?” Puck replied and Kurt had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

Puck had no idea he was lying.

***

Blaine knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He watched as Kurt’s eyes grew very wide and then narrowed to slits.

“Who are you?” Kurt hissed, his voice wavering. “What have you done with the Puck I know? None of this is making any sense.”

Kurt shook himself as if trying to pull his thoughts together and Blaine swiveled in his chair to pay attention to the Glee teacher, who had just entered the room.

“Alright, guys. This week’s theme continues and we’re going to jump right in with Puck’s take on Unrequited Love. Okay? Show us whatcha got, Puck!”

Blaine glances at Kurt’s face, but he’s staunchly turned away from him. He sighs and stands up, feeling every bit as nervous as his body language is projecting. He doesn’t see Kurt watching him, a look of confusion on his face. He doesn’t notice how every person in Glee club seems confused about his quiet manner. He just walks over to the piano player, whispers his song choice in his ear, and watches him nod. The man begins to play and he waits for the cue.

I’m invisible
Float across the floor
You can’t even see me.

Drift through walls and tables
And you still don’t believe me
I’m not one to give up
But I feel I’m at a loss...

Blaine listens to Puck’s voice singing a song he had memorized as soon as he had heard it. Blaine knew that it was a song about him the second it played, about wanting to be with people and not being able to. Or, for the first time, wanting to be with someone. Like now. He holds himself together until the last note, keeps his face clear of the turmoil in his chest, but one tear betrays him. He has time to wonder if Puck is the type to cry a lot before deciding to just leave the room, to find a place to pull himself together before bits of his soul start showing to all these strangers.

Especially Kurt.

His feet pound the linoleum and the tears are thick on his cheeks now, tracking toward his chin and slipping onto his shirt as he searches for a place to hide. Eventually he finds a random handicapped bathroom - the kind with one door and one lock, and he grabs at the door, hoping it’s vacant. His fingers slip and he curses himself. He’s never felt so lost - so utterly and completely broken as he does right now. Everything around him is Kurt Kurt Kurt and he’s breaking all his rules and-

It is vacant, and he pulls at the door handle, the door creaking in distress as he pulls it open hard, flicking the light on with his left hand and moving to push the door closed. Before he can succeed, however, a white boot is between the door and the doorjamb, blocking it from closing Blaine off from the world.

He looks up, right into those blue eyes and he knows he can’t hide from them. Not now and maybe not ever. But he has to try. Try not to interfere. Try not to get too attached.

Too late he thinks and then Kurt is speaking.

“Just...just let me help you,” Kurt begins, pushing the door open until it’s resting on Blaine’s hip where he’s trying to force it closed again. “I just- I know something’s not right and I just want to help, okay? Please?”

The pleading in Kurt’s voice stops Blaine’s struggling, and before he knows it Kurt’s in the bathroom, looking around at the tile floor and sniffing his disdain.

“You couldn’t have found a better place to have a breakdown?” Kurt sighs, “I mean, we can’t even SIT in here.”

Blaine finds this immediately amusing, laughing in spite of himself.

“Well, there is a TOILET, Kurt...” he begins, but the alarmed look on Kurt’s face has him in the giggles, and he’s wiping his cheeks dry as Kurt glares at him.

“You’re so not funny at all,” Kurt mumbles primly before walking closer to Blaine and reaching for his arm. He almost makes it - almost - before he’s looking at his hand like it’s a snake and pulling it back to wrap around himself.

Blaine stills, searching Kurt’s face. “Why do you do that?” he asks, searching Kurt’s eyes and motioning to his hand.

Kurt’s face hardens and he stiffens his back, straightening up to full height.

“I don’t think we’re here to talk about me. What’s going on with you?”

Blaine looks away, wondering if he can ever talk to Kurt about this and wishing he could all in the same breath.

“I...it’s just been a bad week, okay?”

Kurt stares at him, his eyes raking over Puck’s face like a pumice stone, shredding whatever mask is placed there.

“I don’t believe you. You haven’t called me ‘dude’ once in this conversation. That alone is grounds for an inquisition.”

Blaine feels the corners of Puck’s mouth pull up in earnest, but he thinks now might not be the time to start laughing again.

“I-” he begins, thinking of the state of his room this morning and the non-existent parents in the house, “I think that we’re going to lose our apartment, okay man? So I’m a little worried and you just need to...” he falters, not wanting to say any more but thinking that Puck may. “...back off, okay?”

Kurt recoils a bit as though slapped and then steps back a few times, blinking hard and gripping himself tighter.

“O-ok. I just. I thought that...yesterday was...alright. I’m sorry for prying, I’ll just go.”

He takes another long look at Blaine, right into his eyes and for a moment Blaine thinks that he’ll actually stay.

But no.

He watches as Kurt turns and pulls the door open roughly, leaving him alone with the white tiles and little else.

Part 8

Day 2558, Age: 18, Time: 20:39.

Facts of the Day:
male of unknown ethnic origin
Name: Noah Puckerman (‘Puck’)
upper lower class
Straight male; unattached

B-
Today was hard. So hard. I tried to hide from Kurt because I knew I was still in Ohio and I knew I would see him once I saw my face in the mirror and realized I was in Glee like Santana was yesterday. It didn’t work out that way, though.

Waking up as Puck was hard because no one was in the house. For all I know there’s still no one there because I’m at the library. He had few photos, but he did have a phone, which had a picture of him and a beautiful blonde baby as the wallpaper. Trying to wrap my head around him was hard, though. His clothes and haircut suggest punk, but that picture...it just didn’t add up.

I got to school late because it’s been awhile since I landed in someone who had a manual vehicle and then I had to find the school from Puck’s tiny apartment. Thank god he had data on his phone. Google Maps for the win.

The morning was uneventful but at Glee time, when I tried to hide, Santana came and literally dragged me out of the library.

It felt like an out-of-body experience.

He was there and I just couldn’t take it. I had to say something to make him smile at me - just, anything to make him happy but it backfired and I totally brought attention to myself.

I lost it today. I just - he’s just so much and I just want to know him. Something about him makes me want so much more than what I have.

I want him.

I want him to want me.

I mean, not like, WANT ME, want me. Just...want to be with and talk to the actual me.

He seems too lonely and nice and just good and full of life and I just-

For the first time this is just really and truly not fair.

-B

***

Blaine wakes with a jolt, the cell phone next to his pillow blaring.

Blaine had enough wherewithal to ask himself what kind of person has Tonight I’m Fucking You as a ringtone before looking at the screen. The caller there had him confused, so he answered “DTF5” with a cautious, “Good morning?”

”Fuck yes it is, I can still feel you inside me, Seb, Christ,” came a distinctly male voice from the other end.

Blaine sat up, not even caring that he wasn’t following his usual safe-gender-breathe routine and found himself staring at a gigantic mirror across the room.

Sebastian - Kurt’s Sebastian - is staring at him in the mirror.

He clears Sebastian’s throat, trying to come up with the best thing to say.

How do you say you’re welcome in asshole?

“Well,” he begins, putting as much confidence into it as possible, “My dick thanks you, too.”

Throaty laughter bubbles through the receiver and Blaine has a moment of disgust as he realizes how much of a jerk Sebastian really is to Kurt before the man on the other end continues.

“Call me again sometime when you’re not with your frigid bitch, okay? I know you keep saying the patience will be worth it to fuck that tight ass, but why would you want to when you can have this, right lover?”

Blaine feels his face heat up, his blood boiling at the outright grotesque description of Kurt and the obvious way Sebastian talks about him before pulling some crude remark out of his ass to serve to this douche on the phone.

“Well, I can’t stay with just one person for too long but that ass is definitely going to be mine, then you can have me again, sweetheart.”

More laughing on the line and then it goes dead, leaving Blaine reeling and angrier than he’s ever felt in his life.

What. The. Fuck.

He drops the phone between his bedclothes-covered legs and allows himself to look around. The room is decorated in deep reds and stark whites, accented by little flashes of black here and there. There are French doors leading out onto what looks like a terrace, and there are two side doors to his left - both are wide open, allowing Blaine to see what they hold. On the left, a master bathroom that appears to be done completely in charcoals. On the right, a walk-in closet. The floor is covered in a plush white carpet, and the ceilings stretch out above him, punctuated by skylights.

So…upper class, then.

He picks up the cell phone and relaxes back into the bed, acutely aware now of the multiple pillows behind him; the massive thread count of sheets that feel like a cushion of soft clouds.

Today would be what he would consider a perfect situation...if not for the body he is inhabiting.

He opens the cell phone, thankful for no security lock on one so fancy, and drags down the top of the screen for his notifications.

5 missed calls from Kurt Hummel.

8 Missed texts.

Blaine sighs and taps the screen to read the texts from Kurt.

From: Kurt Hummel 7:45pm
Hi Seb, are you still coming over tonight? Dad says it’s okay since it’s been awhile.

From: Kurt Hummel 8:15pm
Seb, I’m not really interested in waiting around all night if you’ve changed your mind, can you give me a call or a text?

From: Kurt Hummel 8:21pm
Sorry about that. I AM interested in seeing you, that’s all.

From: Kurt Hummel 8:47pm
So I guess you aren’t coming over, huh?

From: Kurt Hummel 9:52pm
It hurts me when you do this, so you know. I know you say it’s stupid and that adults do this all the time with separate lives and then living together and that one day we’ll do it, too, but...

From: Kurt Hummel 9:55
...it’s just nice to know that you find me important sometimes.

From: Kurt Hummel 10:47
Your parents must be in town, right?

From: Kurt Hummel 00:45
I love you, okay?

Blaine sat in Sebastian’s comfortable bed, refusing to cry. It isn’t him that is hurting - it is Kurt and now is the time for Blaine to make some decisions.

In this body he could do damage - major damage - to Kurt, to Sebastian, to their relationship (although, he surmised, probably not much more damage than Sebastian himself is already doing), and he needs to think long and hard about what exactly he is going to do with this opportunity.

He quickly smothers his brain of all the 18-year-old-with-hormones scenarios it feels the need to flood him with. Sebastian has already made it clear that sex is all he is interested in where Kurt is concerned.

The problem is he doesn’t want to be that guy today.

He doesn’t want to BE Sebastian.

Which pretty much shatters all of his carefully constructed rules. All the things that leave him with some sense of security and safety in the ever-changing landscape of his life.

And it’s all Kurt’s fault.

Kurt, with his stubborn sincerity cross-wired with his biting sarcasm; with blindingly beautiful eyes and skin that begged Blaine to run his fingertips over. With the obvious desire to help but none of the peers to let him in.

Blaine had watched as Santana, had almost broke as Puck. But today? He will shine as Sebastian and be, if only for one day, what Kurt needs.

***
Incoming text from: Seb
Hey, are you awake?

Kurt stared at the screen of his cell phone, moisturizer smeared on the left half of his face, left hand suspended in mid-air.

It’s been weeks since Sebastian texted him in the morning. Texted him anything other than asking for...

Kurt stops thinking and starts moving, wiping the lotion quickly over his cheek before wiping his hands on the warm washcloth beside him and picking up his phone.

To: Seb
Of course I am! You know this skin doesn’t look like this without work.

Kurt waits, bottom lip clamped between his teeth until his phone chimes again.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

From: Seb 7:06am
That explains why it’s so kissable.

Kurt feels himself blush all over. I mean, yeah, Seb is still thinking with his dick but...Kurt reread the text. It strikes him that it may be one of the nicest things Sebastian has ever said to him.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that thought.

To: Seb
Hey stop flirting, it’s not fair. You never answered me last night. Don’t think I forget so easily.

It’s mere seconds before he gets a return chime.

From: Sebastian 7:09am
I’m so sorry, Kurt. I fell asleep. So much work with these new classes.

Kurt considers this, thinking of all the times that Sebastian has blamed classwork, parents, -hell, far-away relatives on his lapses in communication but wanting to believe that this time - THIS time, he really did fall asleep.

From: Sebastian 7:10am
Skip school with me today.

Kurt stares at his screen.

It is reckless. A move Sebastian would no doubt pull. One that Kurt knows he’s pulled before. Without Kurt.

It’s irresponsible.

It’s so un-Kurt-like that he begins to sweat just thinking about doing it but-

Another part of him, the romantic part, thinks about how nice it is to be wanted for the day like this. It is romantic and grand and-

To: Seb
Okay. I’ll be at your place in 45 minutes.

Kurt presses send before he can change his mind.

***

Blaine rushes to get his body out of bed, feeling grateful that he at least has pajama pants on before venturing out into the hallway.

The house is silent around Blaine, just the ticking of clocks keeping him company as he makes his way through quiet rooms, footsteps silent on the thick carpet. When he reaches the kitchen he encounters his first human - an elderly woman arranging flowers in a vase, dressed in an actual maid’s uniform.

Blaine didn’t know people actually still wore them.

“Excuse me?” he ventures, stepping toward the woman and hoping not to startle her.

He does not succeed.

The woman looks up at him, surprise painted across her face as she jumps, knocking the crystal off the countertop and onto the floor, shattering the silence as well as the vase in one go.

Blaine forces himself to stand still even as the glass hits his ankles, mindful of his bare feet.

“I am so sorry,” be begins, horrified at having caused such a disturbance and for frightening this poor woman. “I mean, I will help you pick all this up, I’m just barefoot and I can’t move yet but I WILL, I promise, oh my god, honestly I’m sorry and-”

The maid just stares at him, mouth agape , her hand over her heart for a moment before visibly shaking herself and tut--tutting toward what looks like a broom closet. She stops and turns toward Sebastian before opening it.

“Please, please, sir. Just stand still and I’ll take care of it. I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to do that and I can’t lose this job, sir, so-” She begins to babble, obviously scared that Sebastian is upset with her.

Blaine tries not to think about why she would jump to that conclusion so easily.

“No, listen, it’s fine, really! Just - I’ll help when I can more, okay?” Blaine tries to put as much sincerity into his voice as he can without sounding too helpful. Sebastian probably wouldn’t be helpful, right?

The maid stares at him again, her eyes flicking between himself and the closed broom closet as if she doesn’t know what to do with either.

“Just-” she begins, her voice calmer, her eyes landing on the doorknob and pulling, “Just stay where you are so I can get this cleaned up.”

Blaine watches as she pulls out a particularly clean looking broom and dustpan and sets to work, methodically covering every inch of the floor before letting Blaine move.

And it is a huge floor.

“Thank you,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry I didn’t help.”

The maid looks up from where she is closing the broom closet, obviously confused.

“But, Sir Sebastian, you, um...” she pauses, looking as though she wants to speak but can’t before straightening her back and proceeding. “You never help, sir.”

Blaine just looks at her and realizes his mistake. He is Blaine being Blaine, not Sebastian, and he needs to be more mindful of that.

“I-” he begins, wondering how to put this all back together. “I’m not feeling well. Have you seen my mom or dad?”

The maid takes him in, her eyes narrowing in speculation as he backs up against the counter, crossing his arms and waiting for an answer, trying to look nonchalant.

“Sir,” she begins, moving toward the refrigerator and talking out bread, eggs, bacon, and cheese. “Your parents won’t be back until next week. You must be ill if you don’t recall that. Or maybe it’s because you got in so late?”

Blaine looks at her, schooling his features into nothing but annoyance. Act the part, act the part.

“Yes, well, if they were here they’d know, right? And they’re not so - their loss.” With that, he walks over the fridge as though he owns the place (which, he reasons, he actually does) and pulls out a bottle of water before walking over to another door at the end of the long kitchen. There are keys there, all in a line, with names and places written above them. One of them, just an ‘S’ all by itself, has a set of keys hanging under it.

BMW keys.

Oh, I can handle this, Blaine thinks, before turning on his heel and heading upstairs again.

***

45 minutes later Blaine had done some research on Sebastian’s computer, showered, dressed, prepared for his plan and is waiting impatiently in the foyer of the grand house for Kurt to arrive. Anxiety curls in his stomach as he realizes that Kurt might not come.

Why would he come? I mean, Sebastian’s not the nicest boyfriend and Blaine doesn’t know how often they do something like this. He pulls himself from the bottom step of the grandiose staircase and tugs out his phone to text Kurt when the doorbell rings.

Sighing in relief, Blaine strides over to the door and throws it open, revealing a luminescent Kurt. He’s dressed to the nines, styled hair swept up to perfection, crimson vest hugging his ribs over a crisp white shirt with an intricate brooch criss-crossing over the lapels. His jeans are black and tight, leaving nothing to Blaine’s imagination. He’s staring at Blaine - Sebastian - in a coy little way that makes Blaine’s mouth run dry before he can speak to tell him how beautiful he looks. In fact, before he can even try, Kurt steps forward and he finds himself with a mouthful of Kurt, his silky tongue pushing into Sebastian’s mouth over and over, almost frantically, his long arms wrapped up around Sebastian’s neck, pulling it down for easier access.

Blaine moans into the kiss, inhaling the sweet scent of Kurt and letting himself get swept up in his greeting. He didn’t even consider this kind of hello when planning this day, and so far it’s working out just fine, thank you.

Until Kurt slips his hand down and begins to palm at Sebastian’s cock, ignoring the open door and the empty lawn behind them.

Then Blaine abruptly pulls back, not wanting this to even remotely be the focus of his day with Kurt. He wants to get this right.

“Oh, hey, wait,” he begins, and then looks up to see Kurt’s eyes. Confused, nervous, maybe even - frightened? Clearly he’s missed something and he needs to make this right. “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?”

Kurt bites his lower lip and Blaine just wants to pull him close but he waits because everything that was morenowyes about Kurt a moment ago is screaming nostopwait.

“I thought-” Kurt begins, voice trembling a little, “I thought that you wanted to- and if you don’t want to do this then I mean, I guess I thought the only other thing is that you’re-” Blaine watches as Kurt pulls himself straighter, steeling his spine and making his face a mask of stone. “Sebastian. Are you breaking up with me? Because if you are I should’ve gone to school.”

Blaine almost clutches his chest, this hurts so much. Too much. The fact that the options in Kurt’s head for this day are have sex or get dumped? No. Just, no.

Blaine moves forward, tentative step after tentative step, until he’s back in Kurt’s space, albeit with Kurt hugging himself and looking about as ready for physical affection as a cactus, and tilts Kurt’s chin up.

“Hey,” he tries to capture Kurt’s eyes with his own, but Kurt is stubbornly looking away. “C’mon, look at me.” He waits for Kurt, not wanting to force him to do anything. It takes a few moments before Kurt sighs and looks into Sebastian’s eyes, his jaw still tense but his body acquiescing.

“It’s not like that, okay? Neither of those things is why I-” Blaine almost chokes on the words, his need for sincerity so great. “-just no, okay? We’re going to spend some time together, get to know each other again, alright?”

Kurt’s body sags against Sebastian’s, so close Blaine can feel the rapid beating of his heart, and he burrows his face into Sebastian’s neck, his lips leaving hot trails on Sebastian’s skin as he talks, making Blaine squirm.

“Oh my god, Seb,” Blaine freezes at the name, wishing, wishing...

“I’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” Kurt finishes, pushing his forehead into Sebastian’s clavicle and shredding Blaine’s heart a little bit in the process. Kurt needs this. Needs today. Blaine pulls back, determined.

“So let’s go!” Blaine says a little too brightly, and then reaches for Kurt’s hand, linking their fingers and pulling him through the open door and down the hallway toward the kitchen, hearing Kurt gasp as he tugs.

Nothing’s going to stop him from doing this. He’ll write “himself” a note if he needs to, but by god he’s doing this for Kurt.

He pulls Kurt along, laughter bubbling out of his throat, and leads them toward the garage entrance. He pauses beside the door and snaps up the keys under the large ‘S’ before pulling on the doorknob to revealing a small caravan of vehicles.

“Oh my god,” Kurt breathes beside him, “Is that a 1967 roadster?”

Blaine looks to where he’s staring at the classic car and shrugs. “I guess,” he answers, honestly unsure since cars have never been his thing. “Must be my dad’s...well, okay, so it IS my dad’s.” He covers the last part quickly with a cough, hoping Kurt is too engrossed in the beautiful vehicle to be paying attention to him anyway.

This was such a bad plan. Kurt has so many ways he could find out that Sebastian isn’t himself today and he’s going to be all alone with him for hours. This is bad, so bad-

“Seb?”

Blaine turns his head toward Kurt again, noticing that Kurt’s hand is on his shoulder, a tentative smile on his face.

How can he care when Kurt’s standing there, so willing to go along with him?

“Let’s go,” he says, and pulls Kurt toward the red convertible against the far wall.

***

Kurt’s watching Sebastian drive, sneaking furtive glances now and then as he sings along with the radio. He watches as the muscles in Sebastian’s throat move around a note, and the way he smiles from the bottom of his toes.

It would be adorable if it weren’t the most unsettling thing Kurt’s ever seen.

Because he’s never seen Seb like this. Ever.

Combine what he’s seeing with the fact that the top is up on the convertible and Kurt’s trying to hold on and see where this day takes him.

“So thanks for keeping the top up,” he ventures, honestly intrigued as to what Seb will say.

Seb glances at him and smiles even wider, if that’s at all possible.

“‘s okay. I knew you wanted to keep your hair and clothes neat. No big deal.”

Kurt studies him for a moment, wondering if he should lay some of his cards on the table before speaking again.

“Well,” he begins, licking his lips in nervousness, “I mean last time you yelled at me and told me not to be such a ‘prissy bitch’ so I just thought that this time wouldn’t be any different.”

Kurt waits for the reaction and gets it - the color draining from Seb’s face, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel until they’re white. Kurt watches as about five different emotions play over Sebastian’s face before he settles on a blank stare, which he turns on Kurt.

“Yes, well, like I said before. Starting over and all that shit.”

Kurt lifts an eyebrow and decides to stop pushing.

At least for now.

***

It takes about thirty minutes to get to the place Sebastian is taking them, and when he sees what it is, Kurt is more perplexed than ever.

“Kendrick Woods,” Kurt reads from the wooden sign with yellow lettering, “Johnny Appleseed Metro Park District. Welcome.” He turns his head to look at Sebastian, who has a tiny smile on his face. “So,” Kurt continues, a rueful look in his eye, “Are we spreading seeds today?”

Sebastian had pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road when Kurt started reading and thus is able to tilt his head back on the headrest and laugh, his eyes closed and wrinkled at the corners.

Kurt has never seen him look so beautiful.

Something in his chest aches at this realization. The realization that his boyfriend never acts this way. That he didn’t realize he was missing something because that something wasn’t there.

Santana’s words about deserving more echo bitterly in his ears before he returns his attention to Sebastian.

“So what are we doing here then, crazy person?” he intones drily, arching his eyebrow at Sebastian. He attempts to maintain his frustrated appearance, but all bets are off when Sebastian bursts into gales of laughter once more.

“Look in the back - behind your seat,” Seb manages to get out, giggling lazily and turning to look at Kurt like, well, like he is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Kurt feels himself color, heat tinging his cheeks as he cranes his neck to see behind him. Wedged between his seat and the back bench is a wicker basket, covered with a floral towel with some french bread peeking out of the top. Sitting behind it, directly on the thin back seat, is a red comforter. A large, red comforter...perfect for a picnic.

He turns back to Sebastian to see him staring intently, no longer laughing. In fact, he’s worrying his lower lip in a way that make Kurt’s blood burn, makes his fingers want to pull, take. His skin feels electric with want and this, this is something that honestly has never happened in their entire relationship, no matter how hard Sebastian has tried.

In this moment he knows for sure that this? Is not his boyfriend.

***

Kurt hasn’t said much since the picnic basket reveal. He had just smiled broadly at Sebastian and turned back toward the windshield, dropping his hand between the console as if in invitation.

Blaine had taken the gesture seriously, threading Sebastian’s long fingers between Kurt’s and marvelling at the closeness of it. So different than just clasping hands - like earlier when he had pulled Kurt down the hall. This is holding hands with intent, holding to be close to another person in some small way. Blaine watches Kurt move out of the corner of his eye and Kurt slowly begins tracing each of his knuckles in turn, giving each one soft, steady attention before moving on to the next.

Blaine wants to cry.

It is both the most intimate and the most terrified he has ever felt about another person. This is what falling in love is he thinks, being terrified but loving every moment of it.

He both aches to hold Kurt, to talk to him and learn every nuance he has, and also to run from him because of the unfairness of it all. His existence is complicating an already complicated emotion.

He doesn’t dwell on it, though, because they’ve reached their destination - soft grasses with picnic tables next to a small pond, just as the map had implied. Blaine parks the car away from the road and they tumble out, being sure to keep a safe distance from the pond before spreading out the comforter. Blaine insists that Kurt sit and relax while he unpacks their lunch: small egg sandwiches on little finger rolls, a cheese plate with a variety of crackers, green grapes, sparkling cider, and freshly popped popcorn. There are even brownies for dessert.

“You threw this together in 45 minutes?” Kurt asks incredulously, eyeing the champagne flute his sparkling cider is residing in.

“I have a maid, who knew?” Blaine replies, chuckling to himself because he actually has a maid.

“Hmm,” Kurt intones, looking away.

“What is it?” Blaine asks, setting down his glass to retrieve an egg sandwich.

“Oh, I’m sorry, “ Kurt replies, his hand waving in Blaine’s general direction. “I just thought you did it, that’s all.”

Blaine bites down hard on his tongue at that - he knows that this is, without a doubt, the best date Sebastian has ever taken Kurt on, and he isn’t about to spoil it arguing.

“Well, I’m not magic, sweetheart.” Blaine retorts, a tiny note of irritation in his voice.

Kurt levels a look at him and sighs. Blaine sighs back dramatically.

“Okay, FINE,” Kurt concedes, “You aren’t magic. I know. It would’ve been a lot to do in addition to showering and looking spectacular.”

Blaine beams at him and continues eating, taking in the changing colors of the trees around them and basking in the soft breeze rolling across the field. They continue in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts while eating.

When they are done, when even the brownies are gone, Blaine cleans up their meal and packs it all away, swiping the crumbs off the blanket and insisting upon carrying everything back to the car. Kurt watches him with interest, his eyes sliding in and out of focus as if lost in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Blaine teases, standing over Kurt with Sebastian’s hands on his hips.

Kurt regards him for a moment and then yawns.

“I think I’m just tired,” he says, putting his hands primly in his lap and looking out at the pond.

“We can take a nap if you want?” Blaine asks, trying not to sound too excited at the prospect of sleeping with Kurt. “Here or-”

“Oh no, not here,” Kurt interrupts, shuddering all over. “I know it sounds romantic, napping in the cool breeze under the sun. But there are bugs, Sebastian, and sunburns...and the possible reality of waking up to homophobes poking us with sticks and threatening to call the police if we don’t stop canoodling in the park.”

Blaine laughs aloud in spite of himself, washing away the momentary disappointment of not sleeping outside on this glorious day.

“So...” He begins.

“I want to go back to your house,” Kurt says, voice hushed and reverent, eyes suddenly bright like blue fire.

“Yeah, okay,” is all Blaine can say because wow. Kurt’s eyes are drinking him up while he gathers the blanket and he’s crowding into Blaine’s personal space, nipping at his collar bone and grabbing at his hips.

“Hey, HEY, stop that!” he yells when Kurt gets him in a ticklish spot and before he knows it he’s drowning again, pulled down flush with Kurt’s lips as Kurt’s consuming him, owning him with his mouth, his tongue entering Sebastian’s over and over until Blaine’s drunk with it, moaning against Kurt’s lips and wishing for all the world that Kurt knew his name.

It’s that thought that draws him up short.

He pulls back, smiling tightly when he sees Kurt’s mouth chase after his own as he pulls away. He puts three fingers on Kurt’s still-wet lips.

“C’mon, you. I thought you were tired?”

“Thinly veiled excuse to get in your pants?” Kurt asks, all innocence and sweetness.

Blaine dimly realizes that he’s hard already, his body caught up in Kurt’s advances but-

“No way. You promised me a nap and that implies cuddling, which I am now owed, thank you very much,” he counters, turning bodily from Kurt and heading toward the car to open his door. He reaches it, pulling it open and turning his body back to Kurt, motioning for Kurt to move.

“Hello? After you!”

Kurt wipes the look of surprise off his face and settles back into his heels, crossing his arms and contemplating Sebastian. Blaine tries to look nonchalant, uninterested in the slightest as to whether or not Kurt comes with him or even studies him while in all actuality his palms have begun to sweat and his mind is racing.

After a full minute or even two, Kurt strides over to the car, swatting Sebastian’s ass with the fingertips of his left hand before climbing in.

Blaine’s about to close the door when he sticks his head back out to speak.

“Put the roof down.”

***

Blaine wakes with a jolt, his body adjusting to the light in the room as his mind catches up with where he is; with who he is.

They had taken their time getting home, stopping at an ice cream shop ten minutes from Sebastian’s house and choosing cones and stickiness over boring cups and spoons. They had talked about books and movies, marvelling over their similar tastes until Kurt had mentioned the roadster again.

“I mean honestly, Sebastian, my dad would just die to drive a Jag like that.”

Blaine had bitten his cone and nodded with understanding. It was a beautiful car and so he didn’t stop himself from saying what was on his mind.

“He should come over and see it sometime.”

Kurt had dropped his ice cream cone on the ground, his stunned eyes looking not at the mess, not at the place where it had hit his pants on the way down, but straight into Blaine’s eyes.

They had left after that, thick silence between them with nothing for Blaine to do but keep quiet. The fire he was playing with had started as a flicker, but with moves like the picnic and the statement about Kurt’s dad it was slowly becoming a wildfire.

They had entered the house like children, Blaine leading Kurt by his fingertips through the silent hallways, stopping only to read a note from the maid stating she would return in the morning. He had glanced at Kurt, shadows falling over his face from the heavily curtained windows and smiled once, happy not to worry about being disturbed.

They reached Sebastian’s room and Blaine had searched with his eyes for a way to close the blinds with success, muting the room into dusky silence. Kurt’s eyes had turned to him, huge and luminescent in the stillness. He watched as Kurt had reached up, slowly removing his brooch and setting in carefully on Sebastian’s desk before working at the delicate latchings of his vest.

Blaine’s heart had pounded in his ears and he had reminded himself over and over that this was not what they had come here for; this was not what he wanted in this body - this body that had just been with someone else the night before and, for all Blaine knew, was not safe for Kurt to touch or be with.

So he had walked to where Kurt was slowly unbuttoning his shirt and had put both hands on Kurt’s own.

“No, I-” he had whispered, not wanting to break the silence.

“I know,” Kurt had replied, voice hushed and heavy, his fingers never stilling even with the weight of Sebastian’s hands on his own. “I just want to be skin to skin with you. We can - we can leave our, our underwear on I just...I just want this.”

Blaine had looked into his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking and finding himself unable. They had been open, yes, but so bright that Blaine could not hold the gaze.

He had lowered his head, reaching down to pull at Sebastian’s shirt and tug it off.

“Okay.”

They had undressed in silence, neither man looking at the other until there were no more clothes to be shed. Blaine then found himself shaking, anticipating the moment when Kurt’s skin would be pressed to Sebastian’s, craving it even as he cursed himself for wanting it. Tomorrow would be the worst of all days, and it was barreling toward him like a freight train. Worrying now won’t stop it, he had chastised himself, Worrying now will only ruin now. He had let it go, dropping the invisible layers he was holding around him and had looked up, finally, at Kurt.

Kurt was, unequivocally, the most beautiful person Blaine had ever seen. His broad shoulders gave way to a lean torso with a tiny waist Blaine longed to wrap himself around, his hips a straight line down to his long, sinewy legs. Everything about him had asked to be touched - the fine hair on his chest, the way his clavicles stood out just so, the shallow breaths that had made his ribs contract - every millimeter of Kurt’s skin had pulled at Blaine like a tether.

“Please,” Kurt had murmured, one syllable stretched between them that sparked movement in Blaine, and he had crossed the room to gather Kurt up and kiss him, truly and without restraint, cupping the back of Kurt’s head with Sebastian’s long fingers and trailing his tongue along the seam of Kurt’s lips until he had opened them, Kurt panting harshly into Sebastian’s mouth as Blaine had claimed him, pushing his tongue greedily in to taste and sense the physical boundaries Kurt had.

He found none.

They had kissed standing there, their breath cutting the silence until Kurt pushed at him, making him fall back onto the bed and he had watched Kurt climb on as well, covering the distance cat-like between them until their mouths met once more.

There had been nothing more than the kissing, soft moans between them when someone would brush hard flesh against a thigh or the mattress, but there had been no pushing. No insistence on more. Just the deep, aching need for connection.

The need to be together.

Lying here, now, he realizes it’s still this day, he still has this time and the heavy body draped over his own is sure to be Kurt’s. The fingertips tracing his face are sure to be Kurt’s.

He opens his eyes and they are. Kurt is on his stomach, his body propped up on Sebastian’s chest, their faces inches apart. His fingertips trace the lines of Sebastian’s eyebrows as Blaine pulls up from the depth of sleep.

“What are you doing?” Blaine mumbles, smiling in spite of himself.

Kurt’s eyes grow serious, his fingers stilling against Sebastian’s face as he seems to choose his words carefully.

“I’m wondering what you look like.”

Blaine recoils, Sebastian’s whole body pulling free of Kurt and skidding sideways across the bed until his shoulders hit the edge of the enormous padded headboard.

Kurt sits up, defiant, his eyes sparking with intensity, his face daring Blaine to argue.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Kurt?” Blaine spits, pulling out all the stops, trying to hide as best he can from the inevitability of this conversation.

“You’re not Sebastian.” Kurt states calmly, eyes watching Blaine’s every move. “You’re not Sebastian and I will prove it to you with facts, if you want, but don’t sit there and pretend you are. I’m not crazy. And you’re not Sebastian and we’re having this conversation whether you like it or not.”

With a huff Kurt flips open the bedsheet, exposing his long, glorious legs once more before striding across the room. He stoops low, picking up his jeans from where they lie pulling them fiercely up his legs and then buttoning them quickly. He turns to retrieve his shirt, as well, snagging it from the back of Sebastian’s desk chair before turning to face Blaine again.

“Are you ready?”

Blaine moves back to the center of the bed, settling in and knowing he looks miserable.

Kurt’s features soften as he wraps his arms around himself, buttons completed, hair in sleepy disarray.

Blaine finds himself thinking he may like it more this way. He almost smirks.

Almost.

“Do you know I’ve never been here?” Kurt asks, his gaze never wavering. “Five months I’ve been dating Sebastian and I’ve never been here. When you texted me this morning it was the first time he had ever asked me over.”

All thoughts of smirking are gone now, and Blaine starts to open his mouth, to say something, anything, but Kurt just holds up his finger.

“I’m not through. I had to Google his address. I had to Google it. Which is why I was late. Because I sat in my driveway and asked myself why I would possibly come here but I just had to see what was going on since this was so...not Sebastian.”

Blaine looks down at that, unable to meet Kurt’s knowing gaze.

“So then I got here and threw myself at him - at you - and he didn’t want me. Which, I mean, it’s clear to me now that that’s all he ever wanted. Not the me that you were with today, but the physical me. And you know what?”

Blaine looks up, at Kurt’s fierce face and crossed arms.

“He. Can’t. Have. It.” Kurt practically spit out the words, his arms coming down into fists next to his torso, his body shaking with exertion. “HE CAN’T HAVE IT!” he repeated, yelling at Blaine’s unmoving form. “Because I AM worth more than this. I AM. And you told me that, didn’t you?”

He’s glaring at Blaine, his face awash with emotion and Blaine finds he can do nothing but nod his head.

Kurt makes some noise. Some small, pained noise in his throat and spins on his heel to take up the vest that’s fallen on the floor before turning back to Blaine.

“So I’m not crazy, and you’re not Sebastian, but you were Santana and...” Blaine watches as Kurt puts all the dots together. “...oh my god, were you Puck, too?”

Blaine just nods and climbs out of the bed, quickly crossing the room to gather his clothes before hastily putting them on and turning towards Kurt.

Kurt’s hugging himself again, watching him move around the room. Blaine watches as he visibly relaxes, his arms coming away from his stomach and his eyes softening.

“So who are you?” he asks, his voice soft, like it’s meant for a child.

“My name is Blaine.”

Kurt stared at him, as though waiting for more. When Blaine said nothing else he spoke again.

“And...? I mean, you can’t just say that and then not say anything else!” Kurt started to pace, his eyes never leaving Blaine’s but his body a locomotive mess.

“And what, Kurt? What do you want me to say to you? I don’t have a body? I drop in and out of different places in this world? I’ve been a man, a woman, rich, poor, Puerto Rican, Columbian, Australian, French, Portuguese, and a million other things? That I haven’t seen my mother since I was 12 and I don’t quite know how it all works but some random agency somewhere in this world does? What do you want me to say to you other than...other than in the 6 years I have been living this life I have never met someone like you? Someone who made me want to stop the fucking world for just a minute to catch my breath because you stole it from me? Is that what you want to hear? Because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. None of this because...because you can’t have me and I can’t have you and that’s all there is. So...so.”

Blaine feels his heart pounding, Sebastian’s chest rising and falling and Kurt just staring, staring.

“But this was...I...” Kurt tries, but Blaine holds up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t know what I look like.”

Kurt stops, their breathing the only sound in the room, and then turns to Sebastian’s desk to reach in the drawer and pull out a piece of paper. Blaine watches as he writes on it, slamming the pen down when he’s through and turning to face Blaine again.

“I don’t care what you look like. All I care about is who you are, who I’ve seen you be over the past three days and how you’ve made me feel when I’m with you. You’ve changed me. Three days and you’ve already changed me.” Kurt’s eyes are filling, overflowing, and he’s turning away from Blaine and searching for his keys.

Blaine crosses the room in one smooth movement, reaching into the same desk drawer and pulling out a piece of paper before ripping it in half and grabbing the pen Kurt had been using and writing on it.

Kurt watched, eyes wide, as Blaine turned and walked to him, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and hugging him close as he slipped the paper into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Just...if you want to know me...really know me...let me know. I don’t know if I’ll see you tomorrow or not but just - keep an open mind.” Blaine whispers, burrowing into the skin at Kurt’s neck before hands are forcibly pulling his face up, Kurt’s mouth seeking his own and kissing, kissing kissing him like there’s no time left in this world.

***

Kurt sat on his bed, staring at the piece of paper in his hands.

gmail
anderson94
1ex1st

written in Blaine’s neat handwriting.

He had left Blaine two hours ago, it was nearing dinner time and Carole would be worried if he didn’t return - he already knew he was going to have to explain himself enough, and adding missing dinner to the mix certainly wouldn’t have helped things.

It had been surprisingly easy, though, as his text to Rachel explaining he felt like vomiting had helped him and Mr. Shue had marked him sick. There had been a phone call home, of course, and Carole had wanted to know why he had gone out, but he had picked up some gingerale in anticipation of using the sick card and he tried his hardest to look miserable during dinner.

It hadn’t been that hard.

His laptop was busy booting up beside him as he mulled over the repercussions of the day.

Blaine had explained that he didn’t know what happened to the people whose bodies he inhabited after he was gone, but Kurt had already seen Santana and what she had gone through, so he knew Sebastian would be completely clueless as to what kind of day it had been so he and Blaine had spent some time sending texts to each other that would explain why, when Sebastian woke up tomorrow morning, he would find himself single.

Kurt had left a note for Sebastian when he had ripped paper out of his desk drawer. It simply said, “I’m done with this” and his name. After assuring Blaine that the decision to break up with Sebastian didn’t have to do entirely with him - because, as Blaine had said over and over again, they had no future together - he had helped Kurt with the trail of texts explaining Kurt’s decision to break up and Sebastian’s apparent sickness of the day making him bitchier than ever and basically telling Kurt to fuck off as the proverbial final straw.

It was something, at least, especially after Blaine had shown him all of Sebastian’s DTF’s and texts from said boys.

Kurt has never been happier with his instincts than right now. Because even though he had let himself stay in his sham of a relationship with Sebastian, he had never let it progress to anything under the clothes. Who knows where that would’ve landed him.

He pulls his computer into his lap and types in gmail.com before hitting enter. His own account pops up and he rapidly logs out, clicking into the space to re-log in with a new username. His fingers hover over the keys as he thinks.

This could all be an elaborate scam.

Which is just way more insane than what is actually happening even though that pretty much falls off the insanity scale entirely.

Kurt sighs and logs in, resigned to following through with his decision.

What he finds is a meticulously organized email account. There are folders labeled 2006, 2007, 2008...and so on until 2012. Inside each folder are emails labeled with months. Each email has a number. The most recent email hasn’t been filed yet, and is simply labeled 2559. Kurt hovers his mouse for a moment over the number and then clicks.

Day 2559, Age 18, Time: 19:30

Facts of the day:

• White male
• Name: Sebastian
• Upper upper class
• Long-term relationship (male)
• I said my name for the first time in 6 years today.

B-
Today was the best day I have had since I woke up in Australia 6 years ago without mom, without my body, and without a clue as to start with my life. Today, for the first time in a very long time, I was me. Well, not as much at the beginning as at the end but what I wanted to do mattered and who I wanted to be mattered and it all happened because I woke up as Sebastian. Sebastian himself is an asshole. He’s not worth much time explaining other than he’s rich, his parents were gone, and, most importantly and the crux of the whole day, he’s Kurt’s boyfriend.

Or he was until 20 minutes ago.

When he wakes up in the morning he’ll be single and be able to fuck all those other guys - like the one who woke me up this morning, ugh. When Kurt wakes up in the morning he’ll be free.

And goddammit he deserves to be free.

If I were allowed to be with him forever I don’t think I’d mind. He’s kind and funny and he has sarcasm in spades. He’s creative and he sings.

And he knew me.

He knew me. It was terrifying, when he said it, and I tried to pass it off as no big deal but he wouldn’t have it and I just - I had to tell him. No one’s ever known but with him I couldn’t not be me, couldn’t not want to love him because he’s so much to love.

And I know he can’t be mine and I know I might wake up somewhere else tomorrow and I KNOW that it’s not safe but sometimes life is about risks.

And he’s worth the risk.

And maybe he’s reading this or maybe not but if you are, Kurt, I-

I think I love you.

You said I changed you in three days. You changed me in one and now I know I can love someone, even if I can’t keep them.

And if he isn’t?

I had today.

-B

Kurt finishes, wiping his eyes and sniffling a little. He looks at the folders curiously before a chill runs down his spine and he realizes - they’re days. All the days Blaine has been in and out of other people’s lives without one to call his own.

He scrolls down to the folder labeled ‘2004’ and opens it up, clicking the emailed named ‘1’.

***

Day 67 Age: 12 Time: 9:15pm

Facts of the day:

• I’m a boy again! YES!
• I’m in Ireland
• The mom and dad are divorced
• I learned about black holes today

B-
So today I’m back to speaking English, which I really appreciate because Japanese was rough and those men would yell when I didn’t know how to write the characters. It’s so hard not to just yell back that I can understand what they’re saying but I can’t read or write it.

Today was easier because the mom here was really nice and kinda like my mom. I mean, she wasn’t my mom but she was like her and I was glad because I miss her and I know she said not to but I do anyway and it’s hard.

This mom gives nice hugs, though, and didn’t look at me like I was weird when I asked to use the computer. That’s nice, too.

The school was cool and the kids were nice to me even though I didn’t talk a lot. I think it’s easier to be quiet because then at least they know you’re listening to them. I’ve noticed that people seem to like it a lot when you listen to them instead of interrupting all the time.

I think that’s going to help me, anyway.

I still wish mom were here. I don’t know what she’s doing and it really freaks me out but she said I’m brave and I need to keep being brave because she has to be brave without me.

I’m thinking being brave sucks.

-B

***

Days 810 - 930 Age 14 Time: 9:01

B-
So I’m not giving facts of the day because I know I’ll be writing tonight for my actual facts of the day here in Paris, but I needed to just jot this down quickly.

The past four months have been incredibly life changing. Realizing that for however long I would be somewhere in Africa was terrifying for the first week, when I would wake up as a member of a tribe, listen to them speak to see if there was danger, and then be expected to fulfill the duties of the child I was in. I swear I was every 14-year-old in that one tribe in the west, and that was like 40 kids alone.

It’s a completely different thing when there are no pictures, no parents because of the AIDS epidemic, no real material possessions. I would be lying if I said I wanted to stay there without the security of the “first world” life I had been living, but the connections those people had? Real. Eternal. Each child is everyone’s child and I-

I have never felt so loved except for with my own mother.

The days were hard, I was exhausted a lot and ate less than I think I ever have.

But I have learned to be grateful. So grateful.

-B

***

Day 1245 Age: 15 Time: 23:23

Facts of the Day:

• Puerto Rican Female
• Name: Alondra
• lower class
• permanently disabled - quadriplegic
B- Technically I’m pre-dating this time stamp. I’m writing from my new body (Luis in San Sebastian) before school. I needed to take a moment to write about day 1245, though, because from what I experienced Alondra is one of the bravest people I’ve ever been. I woke up in a bed surrounded by a cage. There were other children in the room but they were in beds with cages, too. When I tried to move, I couldn’t. I mean, my head moved, and I could speak when I tried, but...that’s when I found out it was going to be a rough day. But, you know? It wasn’t. Apparently Alondra is somewhat known in the orphanage for being spunky, smart, and talkative because after the nurses came to take me out of bed, clean me up, and dress me they brought me to a sunny spot in the dirt-yard and many, many people came to talk to me her. Adults, children, nurses. Apparently her mother died giving birth to her and her grandfather didn’t have the money to keep her. He apologized for this when he came, but he came just the same. What a strong girl. This is her life and I had just a day in it. Some days this is the worst thing that I think could be, but others? Like yesterday? Open my eyes so much. -B

***

Kurt read. He read until the sun came up and his eyes felt like sandpaper. He read until he got to the previous week where Blaine had been in Denmark of all places. He laughed and he cried, he held his pillow tight and he found himself wondering what it was like to be Blaine, sweet Blaine who he’d only known for 3 days but felt like he’d known a lifetime, who had lived thousands of lives but never found happiness like he had in Kurt.

It made him feel powerful; it made him feel paralyzed. It was both an astounding fact and a terrifying one - having so much weight in a life that held so many countless layers that Kurt could never understand.

But he wanted to know Blaine. No matter how much his heart would ache and no matter how far he had stretch to accommodate, at the very least, a friendship with Blaine, he would. Nothing would stop him from knowing Blaine now.

After quietly sneaking downstairs to leave Carole a note that he still isn’t feeling well, Kurt took two tylenol (to help with the sleep deprivation) and crept back into his room to sleep, furtively hoping that he would talk to Blaine again soon.

***

The afternoon sun is low through his blinds when Kurt wakes. He slowly stretches, arching back into the soft comfort of his sheets and then pulling his hands up to scrub his fingertips through his hair.

He reaches over to his bedside stand and retrieves his cell phone, quickly unlocking it as he brings it to eye level.

He eyes the time - 3:23pm - with some surprise but quickly forgets about it when he sees his notifications.

13 missed calls.
43 missed texts.

“What the hell?!” he murmurs, sitting bolt upright, the covers curling around his torso, disturbed.

Kurt decides to go for the missed calls first. Out of the missed calls there are 8 messages. The first two are from Sebastian - an irate Sebastian, a swearing Sebastian, and then a gently pandering Sebastian, hell bent on getting Kurt to call him.

Not gonna happen Kurt thinks.

The next four messages are, well, odd. They’re all from Rachel’s number but each one is only one or two seconds long, like she can’t think of what to say, which is so unlike Rachel he rushes to get to the last two.

The first one sounds somewhat normal, save for her rambling.

“Hi Kurt, this is- this is Rachel. I just wanted to see how you’re, uh, doing, because you’re not here today and I know you were sick? yesterday and so just give me a call.”

The second one, however, is much more telling.

“Hi Kurt. I- this is Rachel. I can’t tell you over text and I don’t really want it on a message, either, but since you’re not picking up your phone or answering texts...I’m not really feeling myself today, if you understand. Call me when you can? Please?”

Kurt lets the message finish before inhaling sharply, his mind scrambling to get this right.

So Blaine’s Rachel today. And it’s after school at this point so she’s - he’s - heshe’s? where?

He exits his voicemail quickly, flicking to the missed calls menu and pressing Rachel’s number. In moments her voice is flooding his ear.

“Hello? Kurt?”

“Hi...Rachel. Where are you right now?” Kurt replies, climbing out of bed and crossing the room to his closet, preparing to throw some clothes on. Despite not showering he thinks with a shiver.

Blaine’s certainly had an effect, that’s for sure.

“I, um,” she begins, conflict in her voice, “I’m in front of your house, actually.”

Kurt pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it before quickly moving toward the door and down the steps two at a time, skidding to a halt in front of the door and then turns the lock and flings it open.

Rachel stands there, her hair down around her face, in jeans and a bright blue sweater with a black poodle on it. She’s wearing sneakers.

Kurt bursts out laughing, if not for the outfit but with relief at seeing Blaine again so soon.

“Oh, honey. At least you tried!”

Blaine-in-Rachel at first looks mildly offended and then her eyes slit into a decidedly un-Rachel expression and she replies, “Well, at least I’m completely dressed for the occasion.”

Kurt colors all the way down to his toes, taking stock of what he’s wearing, which turns out to be very little, actually.

“I really like those pajama pants on you,” Rachel’s voice cuts softly into Kurt. His blood’s pumping in his ears at the immediate flush of arousal he feels at Blaine’s attention. It’s tempered swiftly, however, with the confusing fact that it’s Rachel’s voice, his best friend and, well, a woman.

“Come inside,” Kurt hisses, remembering himself and hiding behind the door. Rachel he can deal with, it won’t seem suspicious her being at the house. She’s here all the time anyway because of-

The door closes behind Kurt harder than he intends because, “Wait, did you see FINN today?”

Rachel’s skin colors brightly and her eyes avoid Kurt’s gaze.

“Did you kiss Finn today?” Kurt manages to get out, his heart thudding wildly because no, Blaine is his and-

“Yes. I had to, Kurt. He’s her boyfriend. I can’t - I couldn’t make it look like she doesn’t want the guy. What they have, it seems special, you know?”

Kurt feels his shoulders slump as the reality of this - whatever this is - washes over him in bitter waves.

Blaine cannot be his. Not the way Kurt wants and certainly not the way either of the deserve. All the feelings that had bubbled and simmered, working themselves up to a boil by the end of Blaine’s emails seemed to frost over, the ruined shell of an idea.

“Yes, of course. They are. Something special, I mean,” Kurt replies, knowing he sounds broken but not really having the strength to lie to Blaine.

Rachel takes a step toward him, her hands out as if to hug him, hold him, but Kurt steps back.

“I just need to- I just need a minute is all,” he says, and Rachel retreats, her face a mask of hurt.

“It seems like neither of us is good at hiding how we’re feeling today, “ Kurt observes. “So let’s go upstairs. I’ll put on a shirt and we can talk, okay?”

Rachel just nods and turns to the stairs, leaving Kurt to follow slowly behind.

***

When they get to the top of the stairs Kurt passes Blaine and he has a moment to appreciate Kurt fully, his naked back on display for Blaine’s eyes. Blaine knows he should feel sad - morose, even, but for a moment, just a moment, he lets his eyes linger on the smooth slope of Kurt’s spine leading down...

Kurt turns quickly, catching Blaine in his moment.

“Really Blaine?” He scolds, hands on his hips, left eyebrow raised.

Blaine schools Rachel’s face to look as innocent as possible.

“What?” he asks, making his eyes as wide as he can.

Kurt scowls at him knowingly.

“Do you have any idea how awkward it is to be oogled by not only my best friend but my brother’s girlfriend?” Kurt’s voice is almost a shriek by the time he’s through, but Blaine just laughs, Rachel’s giggle filling the room.

“It’s really not my fault that I have gotten to touch your ass, Kurt. You allowed it so...I’m not apologizing.”

Kurt gapes at him a moment and then laughs himself, wandering into his closet and then bringing back a grey henley. Blaine watches as he pulls the worn-looking shirt over his head and then begins tugging on his covers.

“This is so awkward.” Kurt states as he meticulously makes hospital corners on his sheets.

“Maybe for you, but I’m stupidly happy” Blaine quips, settling himself onto the settee in Kurt’s alcove before turning his attention to the creams and products there. “Can I touch these?”

Kurt glances up at him, their eyes meeting in the mirror’s reflection. So much longing is in that face that Blaine has to look away.

“I mean, I- I just want to smell them if that’s okay?”

He hears Kurt clear his throat behind him, the rustle of the comforter and then Kurt’s voice again.

“Sure, it’s fine. It’s just that everyone usually picks on me about it, you know?”

“Well, I’m not everyone,” Blaine announces before unceremoniously unscrewing the cap on a white jar with a green label. He takes a deep inhale and sighs happily. This must be what Kurt had used yesterday because suddenly he’s wrapped up in Kurt again.

“Never has a statement been more inaccurate, Blaine.” Kurt grumbles, finishing off the bed, and Blaine nearly drops the cream in his hands.

“Oh my god, say my name again.” Blaine begs, turning to face Kurt on the settee while putting the lid back on the cream.

“Honestly, that sounds like bad porn,” Kurt sniffs, “Especially in Rachel’s voice. Please never say that to me again...although I’ll try to say ‘Blaine’ as much as possible this afternoon for you, okay?”

Blaine smiles the brightest smile he can muster and begins to read the lid he’s holding.

“‘Rad Soap Co. Keeping it real.’ Really, Kurt?” He lifts his head and Kurt is staring at him airily.

“It’s all natural. Read the label! And it’s not that expensive - that container was only $17.00.” Kurt flumps down onto the bed on his stomach, watching Rachel’s eyes as they read.

“Harmony body lotion.” Blaine reads aloud. He turns the container onto its side to read the ingredients. “Distilled H20, Shea Butter, Safflower Oil, Olive Oil, Grape Seed Oil, Sunflower Seed Oil - I feel like I could cook with this-”

Kurt tosses a pillow at him but he keep reading while it sails by.

“-Arrowroot, wait, what’s arrowroot? Okay, wait, Ewax. WHOA. What is THAT? It sounds way too close to earwax, Kurt-”

He breaks off because this time the pillow connects with his forehead and he drops the container, watching it roll under the bed as Kurt buries his face in the comforter, laughing.

Blaine launches himself from from the settee, climbing onto Kurt’s back to tickle him senseless. Kurt just laughs harder, shrieking about being attacked in his own house while Rachel’s giggles fills up the rest of the room, the sounds of their amusement traveling through the house. Kurt manages to flip himself over, attacking Rachel’s stomach with his fingers and making Blaine bellow and beg for him to stop.

Neither of them hear the door downstairs slam or the footsteps in the hall. Neither of them hear Finn as he makes his way to Kurt’s doorway and watches as they both stop and stare at each other, hands stilled on stomachs and chests heaving.

Blaine speaks first.

“Kurt, I -”

“Don’t,” Kurt says, “because then this will be really weird and I-”

“You guys,” Finn says from the doorway, causing both of them to divert their attention to the doorway, almost comically. “What are you doing?”

“He threw a pillow at me!” Rachel insists, climbing off of Kurt’s lap and bounding across the room to stand next to Finn, her back to his front.

Kurt looks up, seeing the fear in Rachel’s eyes and this makes it the most real yet. The one thing he can’t have. The one thing he wants.

“Yeah, well, she...she deserved it.” Kurt replies primly, sitting up and smoothing out his clothes.

“Dude, are you still in your pajamas? Are you feeling any better?” Finn asks emphatically, obviously worried for Kurt’s health.

“I’m better. I had trouble sleeping last night so I was reading,” Kurt says meaningfully, looking at Rachel as he speaks. He sees her eyes widen and her lip tremble before Finn’s talking again.

“Oh, okay man. Since mom’s gone tonight and Burt won’t be home until next week I picked up frozen pizza. Don’t worry, I got a vegan one for you, Rach.”

“You go start the oven, I’ll shower and get dressed,” Kurt replies, glancing one last time at Rachel and hoping for an uneventful evening.

***

The rest of the night is uneventful, much to Kurt’s chagrin. It’s more like any other night he would have with Rachel and Finn in the house if they were choosing to hang out with him instead of in Finn’s room.

Kurt wishes there are more moments where Rachel will pull away from Finn’s kisses or for her to come and sit next to Kurt like she had when they first started watching the movie.

Before Finn had sweetly complained that his lap was cold without her.

Kurt has now had the entirely unpleasant experience of being insanely jealous of his step-brother and quite frankly by 9’o’clock he can’t take anymore.

“Oh man,” Kurt says rather loudly, stretching his arms wide over his head. “I’m so tired, I think I’m heading upstairs.”

Rachel looks up at him quickly, her eyes darting to Finn’s face before speaking as well.

“You know, I might head home, too. I’m not feeling well at all right now.”

Both Finn and Kurt eye her quizzically as she jumps out of Finn’s lap and heads for the doorway.

Finn follows her there, his face showing concern edged with frustration.

“Are you sure, Rach? I mean, you could stay a little longer and we could hang out down here or in my room, I mean, Kurt’s going to bed and-” he cuts off, glancing in Kurt’s direction sheepishly.

It’s not like they don’t know that the other’s sexually active. But knowing and knowing are two different things. Kurt tries to make his features behave; to seem calmly indifferent as Rachel pulls on her sneakers.

Inside, though, he is gloating his success. Today - if even just today - Blaine is still his.

“No, Finn, really. I feel very odd. I’ve felt off all day - remember I told you at Glee club? It might be those herbal supplements that voice coach suggested. They are really hard to find online.” Rachel looks at him plaintively, her face flushed and her eyes unfocused.

Kurt has a moment to note how good Blaine can be before speaking up in his support. He steps forward and feels Rachel’s forehead.

“Wow, honey. You must not be feeling well at all,” he says, voice dripping with concern.

FInn looks between the two of them, worry in his eyes.

“Dude. You don’t think she’s contagious, do you?”

Rachel and Kurt burst into giggles, their laughter further mystifying Finn.

“Alright, well, Rach, do you want me to drive you or-? Finn tries again, moving forward to rub Rachel’s lower back.

Kurt watches his hand move in slow circles and jealousy burns in his stomach like acid. It should be me touching her, it should be- He cuts himself off mid-thought, realizing the pronouns in his head.

Being involved with Blaine is so fucking complicated.

Moments later Finn’s clearing his throat, obviously wanting a moment alone with Rachel before she leaves. She glances to Kurt and mouths “check the email later” before Kurt moves from the room, giving them privacy.

He resists the urge to kick the door jamb.

***

Day: 2560 Age: 18 Time: 20:45pm

Facts of the day:

• White female
• Upper middle class

B-
The girl that I dropped into today was still in Ohio, and still in Kurt’s circle of acquaintances. In fact, it was Kurt’s best friend. When I woke up I thought I would get to see him all day but I didn’t. Instead I learned exactly how hot Finn thinks Rachel is, how hard it is to pick just one horrendous sweater from a sea of them, and how to make it through the day when there’s only one person you want to see.

This is actually rather difficult.

I guess this is what love is. It’s kind of like music. Sometimes it starts with a bang and continues all the way though that way, riotous burning under your skin until suddenly it’s gone. Other times it’s a small whisper in your ear until it builds and explodes, tingling your senses and wondering how you ever lived without it. Both kinds can get stuck in your head, a rhythm and beat that your body can’t shrug off no matter what you try to do.

Kurt is has become the staccato of my heart when he’s in the room, and the chorus of my day as I wait to see his face.

I have officially become cheesy.

Kurt, if you’re reading this, I hope to see you tomorrow. And the day after that. And all the days that are afforded me until some inscrutable force deems it is time for me to move on.

I really don’t have much more to say. I just wish I could stay forever.

-B

***

Blaine isn’t woken by the sound of an alarm the next day, nor is he woken by a cell phone. For the first time in longer than he remembered Blaine simply sleeps in.

He feels himself wake slowly, the body he’s in comfortable. Long and lean and definitely supported by extremely comfortable sheets. He waits to open his eyes, instead taking stock and just letting the body he’s in pull up to full wakefulness.

He’s a male. He stretches his limbs and finds that he is able to move very well. His mouth feels like sandpaper and tastes of sour alcohol, so his host must’ve had a great time the night before, especially if the pounding in his head is any indication.

It’s when Blaine opens his eyes that all hell actually breaks loose inside his mind.

He throws himself from the familiar bed, with its reds and whites, feet hitting the white carpet. The gigantic mirror across from him shows a face full of as much shock and horror as he’s feeling, and that’s saying something considering Blaine feels like he’s going to shatter right out of this skin.

He reaches up a tentative hand and pokes at the face he’s hiding behind, feeling the slight discomfort of the hangnail on Sebastian’s left pointer finger.

Yes, he’s actually here again. In Sebastian’s house. In Sebastian’s skin. Blaine wraps his arms around his torso, attempting to physically hold himself together while flipping through scenarios and thoughts in his head.

Something’s wrong with the host I was supposed to be today so I reverted.

No, that’s never happened. Ever. He’s never been in the same host twice. Not in better than 2500 days.

I’ll call my mom. She’ll know how to help.

Again, a dead end. He doesn’t know how to contact her, what her number is or, he shudders involuntarily, if she’s even still alive.

Blaine shutters through various other ideas; grasping at straws that really have no meaning because, honestly, he’s never been here before.

He looks at the ceiling as though answers will be printed there in bold black and white before his feet are backing him up to the bed again, legs surrendering to the edge of the mattress as his body folds in upon itself under the covers. He curls up in the fetal position and begins to cry.

***
If Kurt is being honest with himself, which he’s been trying to be all day, he knows he’s just waiting, puttering through mindless tasks around the house trying to wile away the hours until Blaine can find a way to contact him.

So far it hasn’t happened.

It’s Saturday, so he knows that Blaine should have the opportunity to get ahold of him somehow if he’s still around.

But it’s 4:45 in the afternoon.

And he still hasn’t called.

If Kurt is honest with himself, he’s a complete and utter wreck.

He doesn’t want it to be over like this. Never knowing if Blaine will come back, never knowing if he’s just gone or unable to contact him. He doesn’t want to have to wait until sometime in the night when an email will appear, Blaine telling him he’s in Mongolia or something.

He wants a chance to say a proper goodbye.

Or not really because, since he’s being honest, he’s never saying goodbye to Blaine, even if it is going to slowly kill his heart.

The only interesting thing that’s happened during this day was forty-five minutes ago when Sebastian had tried to call him. First from his cell phone, then from his house phone. Over and over. Finn had put a stop to it by picking up the phone and telling Sebastian that the Hummel-Hudson household doesn’t accept phone calls from douchebags and that had been the end of it.

Kurt couldn’t help but smile at that, Finn defending his honor in such a Finn-ish way.

He’s stretched out on the couch with the September issue of Vogue, vaguely attempting to pay attention to the Fashion Week previews, when the doorbell rings.

He doesn’t even move since Finn is already in the kitchen, and he hears his heavy steps echo down the hall as finn makes his way to the door. Kurt continues reading until he hears raised voices.

“You are NOT coming in this house, asshole!”

Now that Finn’s shouting Kurt’s off the couch quickly, hurrying to the door to see what the problem is.

He stops dead in his tracks the moment he can see beyond Finn’s hulking frame.

Sebastian is there, standing in front of Finn, but it’s like a shell of his former boyfriend. He’s dressed in ripped jeans and his shirt looks like it was thrown on backwards. His shoes are barely laced and not even tied, and his hair is in such disarray that he hardly looks himself. Kurt moves closer and he realizes he can smell Sebastian - and it’s not a good thing.

“Kurt, go back to the living room, I’ll deal with this one.” Finn commands, trying to push Kurt back, shielding him from Sebastian’s ruined face.

“Please,” Sebastian begs, his voice breaking on the syllable. This is what stays Kurt’s hand, what makes him grasp at Finn’s shoulder and turn him away.

“I can handle this, Finn. It’s okay. Go finish making your sandwich.” he says, pushing his way to the doorway.

Finn eyes him critically.

“You sure, dude? He’s a mess.” Finn finishes the sentence with a nod toward Sebastian that suggests extreme disdain.

“I’m sure Finn. Go.” Kurt tries to put as much steel into the last part because part of him just wants to hug Finn for trying to take care of him but he needs to deal with Sebastian before that can happen.

After Finn takes his leave he wheels on Sebastian, fully prepared to work him over the coals when Sebastian’s rushing him, wrapping his arms around Kurt before he can even move and grinding his forehead into his chest and sobbing.

Kurt stands stock still, unsure of how to even proceed with Sebastian’s tears soaking his shirt; his fingertips kneading at Kurt’s back like he can’t get close enough.

It takes Kurt a moment before he realizes Sebastian’s speaking and he leans down, straining to hear.

“It’s never happened before and I just don’t know what I did and what maybe I’m dying and no one can tell me what to do and I tried to call but you wouldn’t pick up and-”

Kurt pulls Sebastian away from him roughly, trying to shock him into stillness and it works. Sebastian stands there, fingers still grasping at air but not moving toward Kurt as Kurt begins to speak.

“You can’t do this to me. Treat me like I hardly matter and then lose your shit just because I broke up with you. You can’t just show up here and think that just because no one’s ever broken up with you you can just- can just-” Kurt loses his thread because Sebastian’s shaking his head violently against Kurt’s words and chanting “no, no no.”

“No what, Sebastian? What part of what I am saying is wrong?”

“I’m not Sebastian!” Sebastian almost yells, his arms out at his sides in surrender. “I’m-” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, looking around as if he’s just realized where he is. “I’m Blaine, Kurt. BLAINE. I- this- I’ve never been the same person twice. Never. What if something’s wrong and I don’t know what I did! What if-”

“Oh my god, Blaine,” Kurt bursts, rushing forward to gather Blaine up in his arms and hold him, stop him from shaking apart. “Come inside, come on.”

He pulls at Blaine, making him walk through the door with some difficulty. Kurt closes the door with his hip, pulling Blaine down the hall toward the stairs to his room as Sebastian’s fingers wipe at his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, I just was all alone and there’s no one to talk to about this. I just-” Blaine begins as Finn appears in the doorway.

“What the hell, Kurt? This is your way of handling this? To let the guy in?” Finn admonishes and then turns to Sebastian. “And you - your crying is a fucking joke, dude. It’s not like he didn’t see those texts to the other guys you were fucking. Get over it and get out.”

Kurt smiles a tight smile at Finn because if this were any other situation he would be praising Finn’s actions up down and sideways but right now? He’s a pain in the ass.

“Finn!” Kurt’s sharp tone catches Finn’s attention and Kurt holds it with his steady gaze. “I have this under control, I promise. I’m not getting back together with Sebastian and he’s not taking advantage of me, but he is all alone and needs someone to help him and I don’t mind, honestly, so back off for now, okay?” The pleading note at the end of his sentence isn’t lost on Finn, but he shakes his head anyway.

“Okay, yeah, whatever. Don’t come crying to me when he’s a dick again, though, dude.”

With that he strides back into the kitchen, mumbling to himself and stomping around slamming things.

Kurt sighs and tugs on Sebastian’s fingers again, leading him upstairs.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and feeling better, sweetie.”

***

When they reach Kurt’s room Blaine’s not crying anymore, but his whole body is shaking, making Kurt’s nerves stand on edge.

“Blaine?” he asks, tentatively touching his elbow as Sebastian sinks down onto his bed.

Blaine looks up at him, his eyes clearing a bit.

“I’m sorry for just coming here. I just...this has never happened before, Kurt. Ever. I’ve never been in the same body twice. I don’t know if it’s something I did or if it’s normal or if it’s part of the process. They never told me anything like this and I-”

Kurt scowls, interrupting Blaine’s rambling.

“Who is they anyway?”

Blaine stops and stares at him and then scrubs his hands over his face.

“That is such a long story and I just don’t even want to-” Blaine stops and sniffs the air a moment before continuing. “Is that me?”

Kurt almost laughs at how offended Sebastian’s face looks but decides against it when the face changes to horror.

“It is me, isn’t it? Holy shit, Kurt, I am so sorry I didn’t even think about what I was doing I just realized that there was finally a person I could talk to, finally someone who knew and I just lost it and it’s you and I just want to be so fucking close to you right now and I know it’s not fair and-”

Kurt shushes him by clamping his hand over Sebastian’s mouth.

“Blaine. Stop. It’s okay, I promise. I have a shower and extra clothes - comfortable ones if you’re planning on staying awhile - and you can just breathe, honey. I know you’re freaking out but I’m here, okay?”

Sebastian just stares at Kurt, his eyes filling again.

Kurt tries not to look, tries not to fall in love with the person behind Sebastian’s face because it hurts and it’s not just about helping Blaine or fixing him, it’s about who he is. He turns then, away from that face and these feelings to get clothes from his dresser.

“Do you want jeans or are you looking for something more like, like sweatpants or something because I have like, yoga pants here...” Kurt trails off, waiting for Blaine to respond.

“I think it would be hilarious to wear your yoga pants with these long legs,” Blaine says behind him, Sebastian’s soft laugh at the end.

It’s messing with Kurt’s head in the worst way, Blaine’s thoughts with Sebastian’s voice, his body.

He turns back to Blaine, preoffered pants and a white long-sleeve shirt held tight to his chest.

“Follow me and I’ll show you where all my shower things are.”

Kurt ushers Blaine out the door, mindful of the tension settling thickly between then. He can tell Blaine is thinking on something - thinking hard, but it could be so many things that Kurt tries to ignore it until Blaine’s ready to speak.

They make it to the bathroom, Kurt setting the clean clothes beside the sink and then turning from Blaine to sweep open the shower curtain and point out his products to Blaine before he speaks.

“Stay.”

It’s just one word, one syllable even, but its weight is heavier.

Kurt turns to Sebastian, the body of the young man he was dating standing before him with the eyes of someone he barely knows yet knows more than anyone. His breath gets stuck somewhere in his between his lungs and his throat as he looks into Blaine, seeing the depth of his need and the want for the closeness that Kurt had sought so desperately two days before.

“I-” Kurt starts, finding his voice and tugging at his shirt, “I’ve never been fully naked in front of anyone before, so...” He trails off, unable to look away from Blaine’s eyes, blazing blazing blazing. “I mean, it’s not about that right? Because - no offense you smell like a bar and I’m thinking if he was at a bar then he was probably with some guy and-”

“It’s not about that, Kurt. I just...I just need you,” Blaine states clearly, unashamed of what he’s asking. “I mean, it might get awkward but...we can work around it, right?”

Kurt flushes crimson. He’s already losing his grip on the tight coil of desire flooding his body and the prospect of something so intimate, so daring as what Blaine’s asking for is so much, too much.

“Okay.” he replies, not regretting it the moment he says it because he knows it’s what he wants too, no matter how frustrating and confusing it might be for both of them. He just wants to be as close to Blaine physically as he has been finding himself mentally, even in these circumstances.

Blaine crowds his body then, getting into Kurt’s personal space and slipping his fingertips under the hem of his shirt. Kurt shivers, his breath hitching, skin afire. He watches as Blaine begins to draw his shirt up, Sebastian’s fingers tickling at Kurt’s ribs as the material meets his underarms and finds a roadblock. Blaine lifts his eyes to Kurt’s, begging permission, before bringing his mouth to Kurt’s, breath ghosting against Kurt’s lips. He licks delicately at the full bottom one, teasing gently and drawing one small moan from Kurt’s throat before pulling back minutely to tug at the shirt.

“C’mon. Off.” He whispers, mindful of Finn downstairs.

“I’m not going to make it through this,” Kurt murmurs back, lifting his arms for Blaine to strip him bare.

Once his shirt’s on the floor and so is Blaine’s, Blaine looks up.

“Neither am I, but we’ll figure it out,” he intones, moving in to unbutton Kurt’s jeans.

It’s a process, getting Kurt out of the pants, because even on Saturdays they’re quite tailored to his hips; slim down through his thighs. Blaine takes his time, running his fingertips over the material of Kurt’s underclothes, laughing low at the twitches it elicits. One the pants are down and off, he moves deft fingers over how own worn jeans, removing them quickly and kicking them onto his discarded shirt. He looks up then, drinking Kurt in in earnest.

“You are devastating,” he muses, stepping forward to hook delicate fingertips into the elastic of Kurt’s briefs.

“I sincerely hope you mean that in a good way,” Kurt retorts, slipping his hands down Sebastian’s chest and reaching the scrunched fabric that will even the playing field.

Blaine groans, a low growl that curls around the base of Kurt’s spine and runs over his skin in scorching waves. “The best way, Kurt,” he manages, pulling at Kurt’s briefs and sliding them down Kurt’s impossibly long legs before tapping at his ankles to pull them all the way off. He stands, his eyes studiously focused on Kurt’s as Kurt responds in kind and in moments they are naked, stubbornly staring at each other, willing the other to break first.

“I’m going to win this, either by sheer force of will or nervousness,” Kurt says, a smile in his voice.

“I don’t mind losing,” Blaine teases and then looks down, taking in a quick huff of breath as he eyes Kurt’s body. Lean, toned, and soft yet strong in all the right places, his cock hangs half-hard and perfect against his thigh.

After a few moments, Kurt’s had enough.

“Jesus, Blaine,” Kurt curses, taking his moment to distract them both. He doesn’t really want to look at Sebastian naked. Doesn’t want to be one more guy who’s seen him this way and wanted him. It’s not Sebastian he wants. “Let’s just get you clean.”

They climb in the shower, the tension between them lifted, if just for the moment. Blaine reaches for the shampoo, but before he can get there Kurt’s hands are on it, squeezing out a small dollop and returning it to its perch. Kurt looks at Blaine for permission and then begins kneading his fingertips through Sebastian’s hair, massaging his scalp and cleaning him thoroughly, making his body respond in all the wrong ways.

“Apparently I like you cleaning me,” he says, not even trying to hide the erection he’s sporting because, honestly, there’s no point.

“Oh my god, hush,” Kurt exclaims, leaning over Blaine’s shoulder to move the water spray over Blaine’s head, quieting him as the shampoo runs down Sebastian’s back in rivulets. He busies himself with the body wash while Blaine rinses the remainder out with his hands, squirting the fragrant liquid onto a loufa and then kneading it lightly to get a good lather.

Sebastian’s eyes open and for a moment it’s not Sebastiaan but Blaine, phantom eyes he’s never seen burning into him before Kurt’s averting his gaze and focusing on his task, scrubbing at the skin on Sebastian’s torso. He doesn’t notice, however, that Blaine’s taken the shampoo and gotten some for Kurt before Sebastian’s fingers are in his hair, scrubbing it gently and making Kurt squirm.

“Why does this feel so good?” Kurt asks quietly, kneading his soapy fingers over Sebastian’s shoulders.

“Because you’re being taken care of in a simple, base way. In a way that no one has ever taken care of you but yourself and you’re letting me in, letting me touch you like this.” Blaine replies, his hips gently rolling but not coming into contact with Kurt at all.

Kurt takes a moment to wash the shampoo from his hair, jumping when he feels the loofah he had been holding sliding down his chest, catching against his nipples and making him sigh.

He opens his eyes and takes in Sebastian - Blaine in Sebastian’s body he mentally amends - and smiles to himself. He’s never felt so close to someone in his entire life. Blaine’s looking at his body reverently, gentle fingers making short work of cleaning Kurt, making him feel so, so loved.

Loved.

It hits him like a freight train. Blaine’s in love with me. He’s read the emails, he knows Blaine’s said it, but the soft smile on Sebastian’s lips, the delicate care with which Blaine handles his body, the joyous way he says Kurt’s name, these things show him more than reading anything anywhere ever could.

And I love him, he thinks and, whoa, the bathtub is suddenly much smaller, and Blaine much nearer than he’s been before because the solid weight of how much Kurt cares feels so much larger than he can handle.

“You’ve done this before,” Kurt says, fishing for some way to calm himself, ground himself in the knowledge that this isn’t the same for Blaine as it is for him.

Blaine looks up, squeezing the loofah between his hands and wringing it out as he speaks.

“No, actually, I haven’t. I mean, I’ve had sex. As a girl, as a boy. But not as a man or a woman, really. The hosts - they’re always the same age as I should be so it’s only been in the past few years that sexual things have happened. And the teenagers I’ve been haven’t really gotten to the showering together thing in the short time I inhabit their bodies. This is a - this is a first for me. And if I were in my body, if it even exists anymore, it would be like yours. Never touched, I mean. Unless before Sebastian...?” He trails off, having revealed much to Kurt.

“No, and wait...if it even exists anymore? What does that mean?” Kurt asks, a shiver down his spine despite the hot water pounding down his back.

“It’s complicated and mom didn’t say much, but I’ve done this since I hit puberty - I was around twelve and a half, I guess. Something about genes and an experiment with longevity but it didn’t work and my dad, he was the shifter, he slept with my mom and then was just gone but...well, when I was born they came to talk to her. My genes were dominant and so she had to be know; to be prepared. But since the day I shifted, became this, I have never been me. But my body? Where is it? Mom said maybe it still exists somewhere somehow - she said that to me before....before, you know?”

Blaine looks away from Kurt, lower lip pressed between tight teeth making pink flesh white. He doesn’t want Blaine to dwell on this now...to lose himself in thoughts of the complications of his life. Kurt wants Blaine’s attention here. On things that the two of them can control today. He steps from the ledge.

“And-” he begins, his body silently shaking but not from the cold, “-if you were you right now, what would you do to me?”

Sebastian’s eyes widen then blow black, confusion and desire warring on his features.

“Wh-what? Kurt, I-”

Kurt backs himself against the wall around the various handles before reaching up to turn the sprayer to the wall.

“Blaine,” he says, voice gravel bass, fingers tracing down his ribs and then dipping low on his pelvis, fighting the urge to scream because he may just look so desperately stupid that Blaine will laugh at him but holding on, continuing with his choice. “If you were you right now, your body yours command, What. Would. You. Do. To. Me?” He goes for it, wrapping his right hand around the base of his cock and squeezing, a small groan escaping his lips before finally looking at Blaine again.

Sebastian’s own dick is rigid and tight, deep red at the tip and begging for attention between his legs while Blaine stands dumbfounded in the center of the tub, his eyes glued to Kurt’s hand as it works over Kurt’s own cock in earnest.

Kurt smirks to himself, wanting to cry in relief that what he’s doing is right, is perfect, and apparently is sexy, which shocks him most of all.

“Tell me, Blaine,” he pants out, the soft waves of pleasure from the tight heat of his hand distracting his thoughts.

He watches Sebastian’s body back up until Blaine’s leaning against the back wall, taking himself in hand Kurt grip the base of his cock hard, willing himself not to come.

“Do you want to close your eyes, or...?” Blaine asks, looking both sexy and sad in the same moment.

Kurt considers it a moment. Yes, it’s Sebastian’s body and yes, it’s Sebastian he sees but the intent is all Blaine. His intent is all about Blaine.

“No,” Kurt decides, “I want to see what I do to you.”

Blaine huffs, his head dropping, chin almost at his chest as he squeezes his own dick in an attempt to calm down.

“I know this body is no virgin, Kurt, but if you say shit like that I’m going to come now and it’ll be over.”

Kurt grins slyly at him, slowing his pace and dragging his fist up his length before slicking his palm over his head teasingly while speaking again. “You love what I do to you, don’t lie. So talk. If you were you, what would you do?”

Blaine stares into his eyes, fist lazily pumping at Sebastian’s cock, chest rising and falling quickly with the pace of his leisurely thrusts.

“I would blow you, that’s for sure,” Blaine begins, his eyes roving over Kurt’s body as he speaks.

Kurt groans and hits the palm of his left hand against the wall of the bathtub lightly. Fuck, he’s not going to be able to take this.

“Get right down on my knees and suck you until you couldn’t speak and your fingers were threaded through my hair, spurring me on.”

Kurt gasps, trying to picture it while his hand speeds up.

“And after I made you come, wherever you wanted, I would beg you to finger me because I know in every body I’ve done it in it’s been good.”

Kurt shudders, his orgasm building low and sweet in his spine, his cock leaking freely, making his hand slide with slick perfection.

“And then,” Blaine drawls, watching Kurt through slitted eyes, head angled back against the shower wall, “I’d want you to fuck me, Kurt, because I’d want you inside, so close I can feel it everywhere.”

At that Kurt’s undone, waves of pleasure starting at his groin and wracking his body as he comes in spurts on the bathtub floor. He’s vaguely aware of Blaine coming to his own release, repeating his name over and over under the water’s cadence.

It’s quiet for a moment, both men leaning heavily against the wall as the lukewarm water starts to clear the floor of the tub. Kurt’s first to move, grabbing his soap and putting a small amount on the floor before swiping through it with his feet and trying to ignore the implications of what he’s doing.

After he’s through he crosses the small space to Blaine, leaning himself bodily against him, his chin on Blaine’s shoulder.

“There’s something to be said for mutual masturbation,” Blaine states, his face buried in Kurt’s hair.

Kurt starts to giggle because, honestly, that just happened and he needs somewhere to put his emotions.

“Yes, definitely,” he agrees and they both giggle then. “We need to get out, though. The water’s running cool and I don’t even want to begin to think about what Finn thinks is going on in here...”

Blaine’s standing them up then, and smoothing Kurt’s hair. “I don’t really care. Finn’s a nice guy and all but he’s not the one I really care about seeing.” Blaine pulls Sebastian’s thumbs down the side of Kurt’s face until his hands are cupping his chin, then, and Kurt’s heart lurches in his chest at how little time they have left in the day.

***

They dried themselves off in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. Kurt ran the towel over his body and then eyed the clothes he had been wearing.

“I think I’m going to slip out and get some comfortable clothes...are you feeling like lying in bed and watching stupid movies tonight?” Kurt asks, hoping for an affirmative.

Blaine doesn’t disappoint. He smiles and then, “I think being wrapped up in you while we laugh at some romcoms sounds perfect.”

Kurt preens, unashamed of being wrapped in a towel and no doubt red-tinged in front of Blaine. It just feels right to be this intimate with him, to know him, to...love him.

All other men are so screwed after this he thinks, and his stomach twinges in worry. Someday he’ll have to choose to not love Blaine. Someday he’ll have to choose to love someone else without even being able to talk about the wonder of his first love because the person doesn’t exist. The thought should be terrifying but all Kurt can feel is thankful that he even gets the opportunity. Sadness will be for later.

He makes it to his room without encountering Finn, which he counts as a blessing because that could very well mean that Finn’s downstairs playing some shoot-em-up on his x-box and not at all paying attention to Kurt and his activities.

It’s good to get away from Blaine for a minute; to regroup and decide how the rest of this night will go. He thinks he knows what he wants and he’s not afraid to go for it. He doesn’t think Blaine will bend though, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try. He loves Blaine too much to just not know/i>. what’s going to happen and at least this way he has some control.

He enters his room and slips on some yoga pants and a long-sleeve black t-shirt before Blaine’s knocking quietly at the door.

“Come in,” he says, turning to face Blaine and being struck again by how different Sebastian-with-Blaine is. He’s not the same smarmy snarkster that he presents to the world. Kurt doesn’t think that Sebastian could act like Blaine if he wanted to. This thought is what brings back the warm, heady feeling of decision in his chest and he breaks out in smile.

“The yoga pants are pretty ridiculous on Seb’s legs,” Kurt comments, watching as Blaine looks down to examine himself.

“I look fantastic, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blaine replies, turning once for good measure as the bottom of the pants flare out around his shins. “They may be a *little* short.”

Kurt laughs, gentle and lilting, and he can’t remember the last time he felt so happy.

“Watch ‘My Fair Lady’ with me?” he asks, pointing to his laptop and the dvd sitting beside it.

“Sounds perfect, actually, I’ve never seen it.”

“Never- Blaine Anderson we are fixing this right NOW. You need to know of the wonder that is Eliza Doolittle.”

Blaine smiles and ducks his head, sheepish but happy. “So let’s do this,” he teases, moving toward the bed in excitement.

“Okay, let’s.” Kurt replies and he crosses the room to get everything ready.

***

Three hours later they’re wrapped together in Kurt’s blankets, watching the credits roll.

“I have always wondered what it would’ve sounded like if Audrey Hepburn had been allowed to sing all the songs. I mean, she could sing and she sang in that one scene. Marti Nixon has a great voice, though,” Kurt muses, reaching for the laptop to stop the movie.

“I don’t think I really care one way or another,” says Blaine, stretching and pulling himself from the bed, “It’s so good. The way her character becomes someone else and doesn’t really know how to go back to being who she used to be? I can relate to that.”

Kurt glances up at him, noting the sad smile on Sebastian’s face.

“I mean, since I’ve met you...I just don’t know how things are going to go back to being how they were. I don’t-” Blaine cuts off, looking around the room as if for answers, “I don’t think I can. And it’s fucking terrifying.”

Kurt bites his lip and makes to move from the bed but Blaine waves him off.

“Stay there, okay? I’m just gonna go use the bathroom for a minute.” Blaine backs up to the doorway and then turns from the room, leaving Kurt alone with his thoughts.

Kurt glances at the clock. Neon green letters proclaiming it 9:34 stare back.

So little time.

Blaine seems to have forgotten the reason for his distress, but Kurt knows he hasn’t. It’s written there in the worry on his forehead when he thinks Kurt isn’t looking. He knows Blaine’s wondering what will happen tomorrow and who he will be and how it will effect them, but he’s too afraid to say it aloud or maybe even put more concise thought into it than is strictly necessary.

Kurt thinks about his already contrived plan, resolving to see it through no matter what when Finn appears in his doorway. He just stands there, looking at Kurt with a frown on his face until Kurt speaks.

“Please stop judging me. I know how it looks and it’s not like that. You won’t see him again after tonight just please - please let me have this one night and then I’ll try to explain it tomorrow?” Kurt knows he’s pleading at this point, but he just needs Finn to understand.

“One night. That’s all I’m giving you.” Finn responds, folding his arms across his chest. “You deserve better than that, dude.”

Kurt smiles warmly at Finn. It may have been a rocky road but it’s times like these that he feels like he has an honest-to-god brother.

“Carole will be home at 4:30?” he asks, knowing she has a 12-hour shift but wanting to be sure.

“Yeah, no, thats’ why I came to see you. Mom called a little while ago and said they need her to stay until 7. I told her what Burt would - that I just want her to be safe. So she should be home then.” Finn nods to himself once in affirmation. “And Burt’s not due until next weekend, right?”

Kurt nods as well. Both their parents had expressed how wonderful it is to be able to trust the two of them so much now that his Dad was gone to Washington so much. Kurt cringes internally at this night and how it may affect that trust.

“Well, I’m going to Puck’s to play some music and some video games. Be safe, Kurt.” Finn eyes him knowingly and Kurt sighs dramatically, hoping to cut off Finn’s train of conversation.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just as bad for me to say, okay? God!” Finn taps the doorframe as Sebastian comes into view and makes his way down the stairs without acknowledging his existence. They both hear the door slam a few moments later.

“So, we’re alone?” Blaine ventures, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah. Come here.” Kurt says, trying for sultry but feeling as though he’s fallen miles from the mark.

Sebastian’s eyebrow arches yet he moves forward, closing the gap between his body and the bed quickly. He doesn’t join Kurt, though, a fact that unnerves Kurt to no end. How is supposed to seduce someone if they aren’t on the bed with him? He would just need to take matters into his own hands.

Feeling like a fool he pitches his body forward and moves on all fours toward the edge of the bed until his face is hovering close enough to Sebastian’s thighs to make his intent clear.

Blaine looks down at him with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What- I mean, um, what are you doing?”

Kurt huffs once, sitting up and putting his hands in his lap.

“Um, seducing you?” he asks, hoping beyond hope that Blaine won’t laugh, because if he does he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take it and-

Blaine lets out a giggle. One small little trifle of a thing and Kurt’s pulling back, mouth dry and eyes stinging, refusing to look at Sebastian at all.

“Oh, Kurt,” Sebastian’s voice, placating as always.

“Don’t ‘Oh Kurt’ me!” Kurt explodes, “You’ll keep jumping from life to life but I have tonight with you - a second chance at that first day - and I wanted to take it, that’s all. I wanted to...just, I wanted to be with you like that because when-” Kurt’s voice hitches, his desire to be understood overcoming his control over basic speech. “Because when you’re gone at least I’d have that, you know? That one thing that no one can take from me. That you were my
first. My first...love, my first time, my first everything, right?”

He turns to face Blaine and Sebastian’s face is dumbstruck, overcome with a million emotions that Blaine can’t seem to school into one expression.

“You...you love me?” He asks, incredulous.

“I think I do, yes.”

Blaine’s on him then, gripping his cheeks between his hands and kissing his lips, alternating searing heat with whispered ‘I love you’s’ against his lips and pulling him impossibly close.

This is going to happen, this is going to be mine, for me to keep, I- Kurt reaches for Sebastian through his yoga pants, thoughts getting hazy as he puts his plan into action.

Blaine realizes and pulls back quickly, not letting go of Kurt’s face for an instant.

“Kurt, no,” he says, quietly yet firmly, and Kurt can’t help the pained whimper that escapes his lips.

“But why?” Kurt whines, cringing at the sound of his need. He pulls them upright, stealing Sebastian’s hands from his face to intertwine them on the bed clothes between them. “Why can’t I have this? I need to do this, Blaine.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you, Kurt, because oh do I want you,” Blaine says, the hunger in Sebastian’s eyes clouding his gaze, “But not like this. Not in this body because-”

“I have condoms!” Kurt blurts and then hurriedly looks away, cheeks stained red, before bringing his eyes back to Blaine’s, amusement painted across his face but thankfully giggle-free. “I mean, if it’s about being safe from Sebastian?”

Blaine grimaces, a sad, sad expression forming at the corners of his eyes.

“That’s part of it, yes, but it’s so much more, Kurt. You’d be experiencing that with this body, the confusion of that alone would be hard - what would stop you from going back to Sebastian when he calls because you hear and see me, even if he’s treating you like dirt?”

Kurt gives a small nod, seeing his point but not wanting to.

“And after this you’ll have had sex. With me, but not me, right? But then what? The intimacy of it is gone and where will your feelings go, Kurt? I can’t leave you like that. I can’t. What if I’m not even in Lima tomorrow? It’s so much.”

Kurt wants to hit him he’s so right and it hurts, god it hurts, right in the middle of his chest.

“And the last one...the last reason is personal and selfish of me but...if I were to do that - to be your first when you are someone who treasures it so much more than so many others - I wouldn’t want to be this. To be him...I’d want to be me, which is more selfish than anything ever, and I’m sorry but...it’s how i feel.”

Kurt just looks at Blaine, realizing what an honorable person he has become through an insane situation.

He realises the tears are sliding down his face when Blaine brushes them away.

“Fine. But you’re staying here and sleeping with me. I don’t care about tomorrow morning, I don’t care what I have to tell Sebastian. I’ll set an alarm for 5am and kick him out before Carole comes home but I just...stay with me?” Kurt’s pleading again but neither of them care, really, because Blaine feels the same way.

“Okay,” Blaine replies, and they get to getting ready for bed.

***

Forty minutes later and they’re in pajamas and under Kurt’s covers, facing each other and talking, low voices whispered sweet against soft pillows. They talk about Blaine’s mother and what he remembers of her and how much he would give to see her again, if just for one day. They talk of Elizabeth, Kurt’s mother, and how she had died when Kurt was eight of cancer, her life slowly robbed and Kurt unable to remember, sometimes, what she looked like.

They talked about Kurt’s hopes for the future and his application to NYADA, his plans to live with Rachel and his fear about not making it. It goes unspoken between them that Blaine wishes he could have dreams, too.

Kurt sets his cell alarm diligently for 5am when their eyes begin to droop and someone begs to be the little spoon and succeeds and he has a moment, just a moment before their lips brush and he’s turning to be held that he wishes for more.

But mostly he’s just happy for what he’s had.
***

Kurt blearily grabs for his cell phone, its incessant ringing shocking him out of deep sleep. Why did I set this alarm, it’s SUNDAY he thinks before shutting off the alarm and settling back onto his bed.

His bed with another person in it.

Oh.

Kurt groans internally. This was the part that seemed so simple last night when he had wanted Blaine to stay.

Now it seemed so awkward, kicking Sebastian out, and it felt like so much energy was going to be used he didn’t even want to start the process. He’s musing on how to go about waking his ex-boyfriend, staring at the ceiling in the dark until his eyes are adjusted and the room feels more like charcoal than black, when Sebastian stirs beside him, becoming less of a lump a few inches away and more of a koala, turning over and straddling Kurt’s thigh while snuffling into Kurt’s chest. Kurt has a moment to think that it would be nice just to be cuddled when he realizes something is off about the whole situation.

Sebastian’s snuffling at his chest but his toes are still touching Kurt’s.

Kurt reaches his fingertips up to pull them through Sebastian’s hair, simply to wake him up, but once they’re there it’s not Sebastian’s thin hair but thick instead, waves of softness Kurt wants to explore. At this Kurt finally looks down, gasping in surprise. From what he can see the body in the bed with him has very dark hair - maybe even black. He can’t see the face, but the shoulders, which on last night’s body had been clothed, are bare and strong, compact muscles stretched tight in their hold around Kurt’s torso.

Kurt stares, his mouth unable to form words, but his mind working in overdrive, asking questions he doesn’t know the answer to.

He doesn’t want to disturb...whoever is in bed with him, (Please be Blaine, please be Blaine...) but he does want to get to the bottom of this, so he reaches his fingertips down, locating the man’s chin, and pulls it up to see his face.

Electricity runs over his skin at the sight. He’s still asleep, though barely if the small noises in his throat are any indication. His eyelashes are dark and impossibly long against his cheeks. His skin is darker than Kurt’s and his lips are perfect, so perfect that Kurt just wants to kiss them to feel them real against his mouth. His eyebrows are dark and expressive as well, and Kurt has a moment to think of geometry jokes in his head before snapping his attention back to the body in bed with him.

He’s not sure who it is, but whoever it is is cuddled up to him and naked.

Which needs to be remedied.

Kurt has a flash of wonder about Sebastian and where he may be, but he dismisses the thought and just goes with this, whatever it is, as he reaches down and shakes the person pressed to his side.

***

Blaine doesn’t want to wake up. He’s warm, impossibly comfortable, and he’s been dreaming of Kurt in his slumber, cuddling Kurt, kissing Kurt, licking down his-

Blaine needs to stop that train of thought if he’s going to take stock of his day.

He’s pulling out of sleep, having slipped weirdly into a dream of being poked by a stick, when he realizes he’s not alone in the bed he’s in.

Well this is a first.

“No, need more sleep first,” he says, realizing Hey, I’m a boy again today and then moving his toes to move on to woo, leg usage before he really hears the voice speaking to him.

“Um, hello?”

That pulls Blaine right into wakefulness because it’s Kurt’s voice. He sits himself up in Kurt’s bed, taking in the familiar room, the familiar smell. How is it that’s he still Sebastian...but this body doesn’t feel like Sebastian, though and-

He looks up at Kurt who’s watching him with worried eyes. He realizes quickly that Kurt doesn’t have a clue what’s going on here, either and so, “Um, so it’s me still - It’s Blaine.”

*

Kurt’s body softens and he pulls Blaine down to him, smoothing his fingers over his hair.

“How are you even here? Shouldn’t you be wherever this body is supposed to be?” Kurt asks, pulling Blaine’s chin up. The honey eyes there widen, and Kurt’s pretty sure he could look at this face forever. Blaine really got lucky in the body today - this boy is gorgeous.

“I- I think I’m going to look in the mirror,” Blaine says, his face frozen in some expression Kurt’s never seen on anyone. Fear? Excitement? Both?

“What is it, Blaine?” Kurt asks, worry threaded through his voice.

“I just- I need to see,” Blaine chokes out as he tugs his legs free of the covers.

Kurt colors, seeing the body Blaine’s in naked for the first time. It was one thing to see Sebastian naked - it was something that he thought would happen eventually anyway. It’s a completely different thing to be seeing this body naked, a body he was never invited to see.

The body is tight and compact, but well-muscled and so, so perfect, from the gentle sprinkling of dark hair across the chest, to the perfectly manicured area around the man’s pelvis, Kurt is hooked. Between that and the ass this boy is presenting, Kurt is having trouble hiding what his body thinks of the man before him.

Now is not the time to comment on it, though, because Blaine hasn’t even seemed to notice his nakedness as he’s crossing the small space between Kurt’s bed and the large mirror in his alcove. Kurt watches as Blaine sees the reflection for the first time and his hands fly to his face, touching it all over and opening his eyes wide to look at them before baring his teeth to examine the way they look, too. He observes as Blaine takes in the body, too, his eyes drawing down and over the lean torso, the swell of the hips, and-

Before he can watch him anymore, Blaine’s slipping, his knees hitting the floor and his arms crossed on the vanity in front of him, his chin resting lightly on his skin.

Kurt gets up and moves to him, switching on a small light on his way before kneeling on the floor and looking at Blaine in the mirror.

“What is it?” he asks, honestly puzzled at the response from Blaine.

Blaine stares at the reflection for awhile, his fingers reaching up occasionally to stretch at skin and touch his ears before responding.

“I think...I think I’m me.”

Kurt started, almost knocking things from the vanity.

“Are you sure?” he asks, breathless at the idea of it.

“Well, look on my back, on my right shoulder toward the middle - there should be a birthmark there. Do you see it?”

Kurt looks, finding the darkened area of skin easily.

“Y-esss,” Kurt lets out, trying not to get too excited, trying to hold himself together for Blaine.

Blaine nods, his whole frame shaking minutely against Kurt as he blinks rapidly and opens his mouth to speak again.

“And-” Blaine begins, but stutters over the word, the sounds thick in his throat, “And on my lower back, right above...my butt, on the left, there should be a scar - not very long but the gouge was really deep when I landed on a log while crossing a stream with mom about three months before I was gone.”

Kurt looks, pointedly avoiding looking anywhere lower than where Blaine is indicating until he has expressed permission to do so. Everything feels so fragile right now, and Kurt knows his actions are critical. There, almost touching the base of Blaine’s spine, is a scar, about an inch wide and a half inch long, white against his dark skin.

“Ye-es,” Kurt breathes, his voice catching, “It’s - it’s there.” He reaches out a finger to touch it, push against the skin where it is to show Blaine what he’s seeing and Blaine slithers to the floor, a heap of boy on the carpet. Kurt reaches over to his bed and pulls on the bedspread, pulling it off and covering Blaine, tucking it around his skin and trying to afford him some semblance of modesty.

Blaine’s head is buried in his arms, and Kurt watches as his body shakes harder, his shoulders wracked with sobs as the dam finally breaks.

Kurt just sits there, stunned into silence, as Blaine cries into his skin - skin that’s obviously been maintained, cared for, onto muscle that is anything but atrophied. Someone has been caring for this body - and well - in anticipation of Blaine’s returning to it.

It’s mind boggling for Kurt and he’s not the one experiencing it.

He reaches out, tentative hand trembling, and smooths it over Blaine’s shoulder, bringing it to rest on Blaine’s back. It’s a gesture that says, “I’m here. If you need me, I’m here.” Blaine seems to understand because in moments he’s pulled himself over until his head’s in Kurt’s lap, the tears still falling but seemingly more open to physical contact; to letting Kurt in.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?” Kurt asks gently, tracing Blaine’s left ear with his fingertips and breathing slowly, carefully.

Blaine turns so his face is fully visible to Kurt. “It’s just a lot, you know? A lot to take in. Look at me! I’m, I’m just- I’m me and I just I don’t know why but I’ll take it and I’m just...I’m happy and so freaking confused, and I’m just...I’m really, really glad you’re here because if I were anywhere else I might have completely lost my shit.” Blaine takes in a shuddery breath and sits up, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and down around his waist, barely covering him.

Kurt tries not to notice.

“Maybe I’m supposed to be here,” Kurt shrugs, drawing his fingertips over Blaine’s cheek slowly. “And I’m sorry if this is the wrong time, or if this is offensive, but you’re beautiful. Stunning.” Kurt drops his gaze, afraid to show Blaine any more of what he’s thinking because now is so not the time but he can’t help it, can’t stop the way he’s feeling any more than he can control a rainstorm.

When he looks up again, Blaine is looking down at himself, seeming to realize how naked he is.

“I- Kurt I’m so sorry, I mean I didn’t mean to-” He begins, and Kurt laughs.

“What? Didn’t mean to suddenly find yourself with a body and forget to put clothes on it? Where are you going with this line of thought, Blaine? I’m-” He catches himself, unsure for a moment if he should continue his thought and then screw it, “I’m not complaining over here.”

Blaine just looks at him with those amber eyes for a moment so Kurt continues.

“You’re in your own body, Blaine. It’s...nice.” Kurt finishes lamely, worried that he is treading on dangerous ground.

“Do you want me?” Blaine asks, point blank and without ceremony.

“Wha-” Kurt chokes on nothing and then finds his breath to speak again, hitting his chest with his fist for effect. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Blaine looks away, his confidence draining from his face.

“Well if you don’t now, I mean, I just thought...what you said yesterday and I-” he babbles before Kurt crawls back into his space, getting up on his knees to be slightly above Blaine at sitting height and interrupts him.

“Stop, stop, stop! Stop talking,” Kurt says, laying the fingertips of his right hand over Blaine’s lips - Blaine’s smooth, perfect, kissable- “That’s not what I meant, Blaine. You-” Kurt stops, licking his lips before looking away for a moment to compose himself, pull his thoughts together, and say his next words with all the confidence he has. “You’re breathtaking - I said that. I mean, trust me when I say, my body and mind most definitely want you. It’s almost embarrassing at this point.”

Blaine glances down at Kurt’s pajama pants and ducks his head, a small huff of a laugh escaping his lips.

“Oh, yeah, it’s hilarious, Blaine. When the man you love and you think you can’t have suddenly shows up naked in your bed and you want to be supportive but...but damn and now you can have everything with him and you want to be that innocent, nice guy that he thinks he knows but he’s just all...he’s all...” Kurt waves at Blaine in a manner that indicates all of Blaine’s body and then presses on. “I don’t have to “have” you, Blaine. I mean, that’s not what this is about, this is about you being you> and that is so, so, so-”

This time it’s Blaine interrupting but not with his fingertips. Kurt’s shocked into silence as Blaine’s lips are pressed firmly against his, and it’s better than kissing Sebastian, it’s better than kissing anyone because it’s kissing Blaine and Blaine kissing back. His mouth is firm and insistent against Kurt’s own, opening slightly and pulling with soft sincerity against his bottom lip, making him moan outright before Blaine’s pulling away and stilling.

“I’m glad I’m me, Kurt. So, so glad. Because I can be here, like this, with you, and have it mean even more. So just- just...” he trails off, pulling at the hem of Kurt’s shirt with still-shaking fingers. “Help me be me, Kurt, make me feel like I actually exist.”

Kurt feels like he could either laugh outright in pure joy or break down in tears of relief at Blaine’s words but in the end he chooses neither as Blaine’s pulling him in again, kissing his lips with intent and opening Kurt’s mouth with his tongue as his hands pull at Kurt’s shirt.

They part only for a moment for Blaine to pull the fabric off of Kurt’s head, tossing it somewhere where neither of them care before claiming Kurt’s mouth again.

Kurt drowns in it, in the smell of Blaine and the warmth of his touch, each fingertip leaving trails of godyesfinally on his skin as they map and trace the lines of his body - the nape of his neck, the curve of his spine, and each indent between his ribs.

“I love to touch you,” Blaine breathes between kisses, his hands gripping tightly at Kurt’s hips, his breath hot on Kurt’s neck as he tastes and explores every inch of Kurt he can reach. “Feel you with these fingertips - my fingertips.

Kurt whines, his hips speaking for him in his need for Blaine to keep going, to touch him, make him feel like he’s not alone in his burning need to be close, closer.

Blaine pulls free of his neck, his lips dark and slick with use. “Bed?” he asks quietly, eyes speaking volumes of want.

Kurt’s heart stutters in his chest at the thought, what they could do - what they will do in his bed, with Blaine’s body and-

“Yes, oh my god, so much yes.” he replies, standing up and pulling Blaine with him.

Forgetting the comforter.

And oh yes, Blaine is extremely interested.

“Holy. Shit.” Kurt exclaims softly, cursing his stupid mouth for having no filter.

Blaine looks down and laughs, his right hand reaching up to wring at the back of his neck.

“Um, there’s really no ceremony this time, right?” Blaine says, looking up at Kurt with no less intensity than before.

“Not really, no,” Kurt agrees, but then pulls the drawstring on his own pajamas and pulls them off, carelessly tossing them to the ground. He looks back to Blaine, a wicked smile on his lips. “And I honestly don’t care.”

“Oh my god, Kurt, you are so fucking hot as it is, why...why?” Blaine exclaims, walking to him and then pushing him back, back, until Kurt finds himself flat on his back on his bed, legs splayed and chest heaving. Blaine’s on him in moments, his tongue tracing the same paths his fingertips had minutes before, tickling his ribs and his clavicles, before settling on teasing one of his nipples to attention, circling the hardening flesh until it’s tight and teasing, aching to be sucked.

“Fu-Blaine, Blaine, Kurt manages before Blaine’s mouth closes around it and suck, hard enough to spur Kurt’s back to arch involuntarily. Apparently I like this Kurt has the wherewithal to think before speaking again. “Blaine, Blaine, your mouth, oh my god, please.”

Kurt almost cringes, realizing what he’s begging for, what he wants. He wants what Blaine promised so long ago in the shower yesterday, wants to be-

“Blaine?” he says, decidedly calm compared to a moment ago. Blaine looks up from where he’s teasing Kurt’s other nipple, scraping teeth and tongue harshly as he does. “Ohmygod, okay...okay,” Kurt grits out, his cock pulsing to the beat of his heart. “Do you want to, I mean, yesterday-”

Blaine laughs, deep and low, and ducks down again, licking into Kurt’s belly button and oh, there has to be a direct connection between that spot and the head of his dick because the noise he makes is absolutely obscene. Blaine glances up again, his face dark with lust.

“If I’m getting that from your bellybutton, I honestly can’t wait to have your cock in my mouth, Kurt.”

Kurt groans and swats at Blaine’s arm.

“Stop picking on me during my first blowjob, dammit,” he complains, cheeks flushing scarlet at saying the word. “It’s just...jesus Blaine, so good, and I can’t take this just...” He covers his face with his hands, afire with embarrassment before almost doubling over with pleasure. Blaine’s taken him into his mouth whole, without preamble, and is sliding him slick-hot into and out of his mouth.

“Oh my fucking God, Blaine!” he half-whines, half growls, hips wanting to fly up into the hotwetyes of Blaine’s throat but held fast by Blaine’s arm.

Blaine pulls off, leaving Kurt wanting and wet, hips making small circles against hot sheets, and makes a soft tsk tsk noise.

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, language,” he says, and Kurt huffs, pulling himself up to his elbows and glaring down at Blaine.

“Really Blaine, REALLY?” he whines, unable to help his tone of voice, which he had meant to sound stern.

Blaine lifts a cocky eyebrow at him and leans down, his eyes never leaving Kurt’s, letting his tongue come out and lick softly as the base of Kurt’s cock, smile at the corners of his lips as he drags it upward slowly, stopping occasionally to flick and suck with his lips before reaching the tender underside of Kurt’s head and staying there, mouthing and flicking his tongue and making Kurt mewl.

Kurt falls back on the bed, a string of profanities he’s never uttered in succession before falling from his lips as Blaine takes him in his mouth again and again, working his orgasm from deep in his spine.

His hips begin to cant erratically, Blaine’s mouth taking him apart quickly and surely until he’s chanting Blaine’s name in earnest, pulling at his hair in warning.

“I- Blaine, I-” he tries, but Blaine just sucks in earnest, jerking the length of his cock in time with his mouth and Kurt’s gone, the world blown white, the sounds blurred out.

Blaine pulls away softly, watching Kurt as he comes slowly back to him, his body lax and supple against the bed.

Kurt looks up at him finally, stupid grin on his face as he hits the bed with the palm of his right hand.

“So fucking hot Blaine, oh my god.” He says, apparently embracing his filthy mouth for the time being. “I mean...your mouth. I-” He looks at Blaine lovingly, wishing he could convey how he feels with mere words and realizes he can do one better.

“Yes, it’s my mouth, isn’t it,” Blaine says, reaching up to touch his own lips in wonder. “It’s...it’s mine.”

“Actually,” Kurt says with a saucy grin, “I believe that right now? It’s mine.

***

Kurt’s chest is rising and falling and he’s still grinning at Blaine like...well, like he’s been debauched, which he has.

Blaine grins back, unable to help himself because he made Kurt look this way.

He reaches down to his cock, stroking it lightly and moaning at the pressure; he’s been hard for a while now and he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t do something>/i> about it.

Kurt watches Blaine’s hand move over himself for a moment and then slits his eyes at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, taking Blaine by surprise.

Blaine laughs a little, shoulders shaking while his hand speeds up, needing to find release.

“I think- I think it’s- pretty obvi- obvious, K-Kurt,” he gets out, his orgasm creeping up on him, making his hips start to snap forward before Kurt’s grabbing at his hand.

“But I want to do this for you, you just-” he says plaintively, obviously alarmed at the prospect of not reciprocating.

Blaine stills his hand, eyeing Kurt and willing himself to breathe.

“What do you want to do?”

Kurt lifts himself off the bed, rising to his knees while dragging himself closer to Blaine. He reaches out to him with both hands, cupping Blaine’s face and forcing his tongue into his mouth over and over until Blaine’s whining, cock leaking.

“Touch me? Please touch me?” Blaine begs, falling onto his back and fisting at the sheets.

Kurt reaches under the bed and produces a small shoe box and pulls the lid off, searching inside for something. He finds what he wants and replaces the lid before placing the
box on his nightstand.

Blaine watches as Kurt uncaps the lubricant and pours some into his right hand before placing that, too, on the nightstand. Kurt takes a deep breath and then settles on his stomach between Blaine’s legs, his left elbow supporting him, his right hand cupped
gently.

“What are you-” Blaine begins, but Kurt takes hold of his cock with his left hand to stop his speech, and boy does it.

“Just let me do this, Blaine, or I’ll lose my courage here,” Kurt says, his voice high with nerves. Blaine has a moment to consider what he’s saying before he’s arched back, mouth open and throat working to make noises he’s never made before.

Kurt’s biting softly at the inside of his left thigh as he traces the skin below Blaine’s balls with his right fingertips, letting lube slide down them and between Blaine’s cheeks. Blaine feels the lube start to catch at his hole and he moans, becoming supple and slick beneath Kurt’s wandering fingers. He’s massaging at the skin there, teasing the muscles to tighten and contract, moving in widening circles and growing ever closer to Blaine’s opening. Blaine seems to lets go, his mouth make the noises it wants as he realizes Kurt’s going to do what he asked for yesterday in the shower; he’s going to finger him.

Kurt brings his mouth up, licking teasingly at the soft, wet underside of Blaine’s cock as he finds and pushes at Blaine’s hole, making him gasp and shudder. He quietly licks, never going faster and focusing on the tender skin under the head of Blaine’s dick as he pushes a little harder, a little more insistently at Blaine’s opening until his finger breaches him minutely.

“Y-ee-sss,” Blaine moans out, chasing the pressure of Kurt’s finger with his hips as Kurt continues to tongue lazily at his cock.

Blaine wants to fuck up into Kurt’s mouth but he can’t because then the tight, perfect press of Kurt’s finger will stop and it’s already halfway in, blunt pressure where he needs it, craves it.

“More…more, Kurt,” he pleads, pulling on the sheets in his need.

He feels Kurt push until his hand is flat against Blaine’s ass and Blaine begins to rock his hips, pulling Kurt’s finger into and out of himself.

He looks down to see Kurt watching, no longer tonguing at the slit of his dick, a look of awe on his face.

“More, c’mon, more,” he whispers hoping Kurt won’t get offended but honestly, he’s starting to ache to come.

Kurt’s eyes widen and he pulls his finger out, only to replace it with two, breaching Blaine quickly this time and pumping them shallowly in then out, making headway deeper, more.

Blaine wants to laugh it feels so good, and does when Kurt starts licking at him again, which is a mistake because that makes Kurt stop everything.

‘What is it?” he asks, looking mildly concerned.

“Nothing, fuck, please keep going, it just feels so good Kurt. So, so good. Perfect.” Blaine counters.

Kurt looks relieved and then resumes his motions, his long fingers pushing, pushing, fucking Kurt’s mind supplies, into Blaine’s perfect ass. He pulls the fingers out to add another, unimpressed with the awkwardness of the act. Three fingers is just so awkward. How come no one has ever said this somehow? Is there a tutorial
somewhere that tells how this could be easier...? he thinks, but then has an idea.

“I-” he begins, flustered and not wanting to say the idea he’s had but knowing it might help the situation. He’s always enjoyed it, anyway. “I want to try something else, is that okay?”

Blaine looks down at him and just nods vigorously.

“Anything, anything...”

Kurt removes his fingers and leaves the bed quickly, leaving Blaine whimpering while he grabs his discarded pajama pants. He winces at them being the only choice of hand cloth while wiping his fingers and mentally shrugging. He drops the pajamas next to the bed and then reaches into the same box again, taking out a long, slim vibrator. Personal massager, he reminds himself, thanking the As-Seen-On-TV store at the mall and cash money. He picks up the lube and coats it thoroughly, warming it up with his hands.

Blaine watches him, eyes wide.

“Well, well, Mr. Hummel. Not so innocent I see,” he says, smile wide and eyes shining.

Kurt colors all the way down his torso and hides his face in his shoulder.

“Shh, stop it. I was in the store and I bought it and it was like three months ago and...just hush, you. Is...is this okay?”

Blaine nods again, eyes wolfish. “Anything to get me ready for you, Kurt.”

Kurt almost drops the vibrator.

“Oh my God.”

Blaine sits up, eyes wide, scrambling. “I didn’t mean to assume, I mean yesterday I said...and you didn’t object and then you were...and...”

Kurt places his palm in the center of Blaine’s chest and pushes him back as he climbs back on the bed. He uses his knees to nudge Blaine’s thighs apart and repeats himself, “I
said hush.

Blaine moans low, covering his hands with his face as the vibrator pushes at him, opening him slowly and surely, eased by the lube and the stretch Kurt’s already accomplished. The vibrator is only about as wide as Kurt’s three fingers together and not even on, but it’s a whole lot easier to navigate, to control the width of the stretch.

Blaine makes a small noise in his throat and Kurt stops, worried.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” Blaine growls, pushing his hips down, trying to take more of the toy. “Why- why stopping?”

Kurt laughs, Blaine’s speech making his arousal flare and his cock harden. He really seems to like it.

“Just tell me if I’m hurting you, I never want to hurt you, Blaine.” Kurt replies, and then continues pushing, stretching Blaine until the toy is fully seated.

“Ungh...I...Okay...I...” Blaine tries, but he’s seeking with his hips again and Kurt’s withdrawing the vibrator, and then pushing back in, acclimating Blaine to the push and pull as Blaine grinds his hips down, taking it harder than Kurt would’ve dared to try.

“Oh- oh my god,” Blaine lets out, barely speech more like a huff of breath with words entangled.

Kurt looks up and sees Blaine’s head turned sharp, nose buried in his arm, his teeth biting at the skin there as he pushes toy in and out. It incites him, seeing Blaine unbound; his
body responding to Kurt’s in such a primal way. Kurt pushes a little harder, biting his lip to keep from interrupting the gorgeous man above him.

“Kurt - Kurt, st- stop,” Blaine says, and Kurt stops immediately, concern flooding his veins.

“Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, Blaine, I-” Kurt begins.

“No, no, I’m fine, Kurt, I’m more than fine, actually...would you, I mean, can we...?” Blaine’s tripping over his words, sweat at his hairline and body trembling.

Kurt ducks his head, embarrassed to find thatyes, we can because he’s never wanted to or had the opportunity for and-

He realizes Blaine’s staring at him, a small frown slowly becoming deeper.

“I mean, we don’t have to and maybe you’re not ready-”

Kurt moves up to kiss him, softly yet urgently, using his tongue to coax open Blaine’s lips and then his jaw to make the motion as deep as possible, putting what he wants into Blaine’s mouth.

“I’m ready,” Kurt whispers as he pulls away, easing the toy out of Blaine as he goes. Blaine sighs against the removal of the toy, pushing himself back against the sheets, waiting while Kurt wipes down the toy with wipes from his bedside drawer and then puts it on the floor, on the pajama pants to be washed later.

“Do you want to use a condom?” Kurt asks when he’s through, gesturing toward the box.

Blaine seems to consider a moment, his fingertips tracing over his own chest, teasing unintentionally at his nipples as he considers.

“Probably should, not knowing where exactly my body’s been - I mean, I know it’s been taken care of but in case...you know?”

Kurt nods and reaches for the box, producing a wrapped condom. Thank god for health
class, he thinks, because despite the embarrassment at the time, it was SO worth it right now.

He pinches the tip of the condom, wincing at the cold plastic feel, and slides it down the length of himself, a little shocked at the tightness, He reaches for more lubricant and slicks it everywhere, not wanting to hurt Blaine. When he’s done he lifts his gaze to Blaine again, his eyes that look nervous but shine, cheeks warm, body taut.

“Okay?” Kurt asks, hushed and reverent.

“Definitely,” Blaine answers, moving down the bed and pushing the pillows off.

Kurt lifts on Blaine hips until they’re angled up, almost resting on his thighs and Blaine spreads his legs wider, reaching down and pulling at the muscles of his ass, exposing himself fully to Kurt.

“Jesus, this is happening,” Kurt says, more to himself than to Blaine and Blaine snickers.

“Yes, and I’m really, really impatient, so...” Blaine teases, shaking his ass and making Kurt stop before he can even get close.

Kurt swats at said ass.

“Hold still, this is hard enough as it is!” Kurt exclaims and then flushes, realizing he’s
slapped Blaine’s ass.

“Oooh, fiesty,” Blaine says in mock awe, making things even worse.

“You’re not funny,” Kurt says, voice low and body in motion, lining himself up just right and nudging his hips forward, just barely entering Blaine.

Oh so tighthotyestight he thinks, holding himself back from pushing, pushing.

Blaine chokes out some syllable and then breathes, trying again. “I-ohhfuck-am too, am too funny.” He pushes his hips and takes a little more, a little deeper; groaning as Kurt holds himself still.

Kurt hisses, his whole body sending out signal flares as he holds, holds...

“More,” Blaine whimpers, seeking with his body, taking Kurt deeper and both boys groan.

“So- so-good Blaine, ohmygod,” Kurt whines. I can’t take this, I can’t take this his mind’s chanting, chanting.

“Yes,” Blaine says as he pushes the rest of the way down, taking all of Kurt in.

Kurt holds himself above Blaine, shaking, shaking, and looks into Blaine, like he did the very first day, and then pulls back.

“Oh god,” Blaine exclaims, the deep drag of Kurt setting his nerves alight. “Please, yes, please.”

Kurt keeps his eyes on Blaine’s face as he enters him fully again, Blaine’s body adjusting to his length and relaxing further, taking what Kurt can give. He watches Blaine’s eyes shut tight, his mouth open in silent pleasure, then small sounds that could be words but mostly are exclamations of need spill out. It’s when Blaine does that thing again, turns his head and bites at his bicep that Kurt feels his orgasm build, threatening to come too soon.

“Blaine, I need to - to slow down or-”

“No!” Blaine says quickly, his eyes flying open and his body working harder, faster against Kurt’s. “I-I want- I need you to. Have me-c’mon.”

Kurt’s body responds, engulfing fire deep in the marrow of his bones as he fucks into Blaine again and again, Blaine taking himself in hand and jerking rapidly with the rhythm of Kurt’s hips.

His sounds aren’t words now but soft whines and gasps, pieces of Kurt’s name sewn together in drowning pleasure as he comes between them and his whole body convulses. He takes Kurt down with him as the muscles in his ass pulse against Kurt’s cock. Kurt stops and holds, body stock still, coming fast hot into Blaine as he muffles his cries into Blaine’s chest, saying his name over and over.

The air is silent, save for their breathing ,when Blaine says it.

“I love you Kurt.”

“I love you, Blaine.”

***

They take a moment to breathe, Kurt on the bed next to Blaine, having moved away solely because the beat between them threatened to overcome them both. After some minutes Kurt decides to speak again.

“So I’ve only done this once, but I think we’re really good at it and should continue for as long as as we are both are interested.” He turns his mirthful eyes to Blaine, hoping he’ll bite.

He does.

“Which is to say, forever,” Blaine crows back, smug smirk on his face.

They laugh, both starting to feel disgusting and knowing they should move. Kurt glances at his clock and swears under his breath.

“We really need to move, even though I don’t want to at all. It’s 6:40. Carole will be home in less than a half hour. Do you want to shower?”

Blaine considers this.

“Yes, I do, but Kurt - how are we going to explain me? Where do I even go and there are so many questions...”

“Let’s just do this one step at a time, okay? I don’t know any more than you do but we can do this.” Kurt soothes, reaching down to grasp Blaine’s hand with his own. “You’re not going anywhere today. I’ll figure something out - go get in the shower and I’ll strip this bed and air out my room a bit.” Kurt wrinkles his nose at the end because yeah, it smells like sex in his room. Puck would be so proud.

Blaine squeezes his hand once more and then shuffles to the edge of the bed, easing his body up to sit. He lets out a little breath, and then pushes off the bed, walking a little warily.

Kurt watches, comprehension dawning on his face.

“Blaine - are you-”

Blaine turns to him, smile on his face, albeit a little awkward.

“Um, yeah. I’m a little...it just feels different. Not painful, just...a little different and a little...well taken.”

Kurt tries not to preen - he really does - but he can’t help it. Blaine’s a mess, sticky, sweaty, and well-fucked. By Kurt Hummel, thanks so much.

“I would say I’m sorry but I’m really, really not,” Kurt says, trying to be innocent but failing miserably.

“And I really don’t want you to be, that was fucking hot, Kurt. Just...damn.” Blaine replies, and then reaches into Kurt’s dresser with a question on his face, which Kurt nods to. He searches a moment, pulling out pajama pants and a Hummel Oil and Lube T-shirt and then heads out the door.

“Come back to me soon,” Kurt catcalls, unable to stop himself.

He busies himself about the room, stripping the bed quickly and using the last clean part of the sheet to wipe at himself. He steals out of his room, naked, to throw the sheets and comforter into the washing machine and starts the load. Finally he returns to his room, pulling his backup comforter out of his mother’s hope chest in the closet before replacing the sheets, humming to himself as he goes. He’s pulling the last pillow sham on when Blaine returns from the shower, curls damp over his forehead and t-shirt tight over his chest. Kurt’s breath catches, wanting him all over again.

“Is it going to be like this all the time now? The second I see you, wanting to be...close?” Kurt amends what he’s thinking, finding in you to be a bit crass.

Blaine examines him, eyes like embers, burning burning.

“I actually hope it is, because it’s the same way I feel. How do people do this all the time? How do people in love contain this?” Blaine wonders aloud.

Kurt shrugs and grabs the clothes he’s prepared, skirting Blaine and heading out the door. Blaine whimpers, unaccustomed to the treatment.

“I can’t touch you or I’ll never leave,” Kurt states over his shoulder, “And besides that, I’m so gross you don’t want me right now anyway.”

He thinks he hears a grumbled, “not true” as he closes the bathroom door.

***

Kurt finishes a quick shower and returns to his room ten minutes later thinking about how his skin will have to wait for another few hours when he reaches his door and almost falls through it.

Blaine’s sitting on his bed near the headboard with his legs crossed underneath him. There’s a folder open in front of him and, most surprisingly, Kurt’s dad is sitting on the chaise lounge - pulled up from his alcove.

Kurt has to grip the edge of the doorframe to stay upright.

“D-Dad?” he exclaims, thanking the whole world and all its deities that he had cleaned his room before showering.

Both Blaine and Burt look up from here they’re lt the folder in front of Blaine. Kurt takes mental note of his dad’s appearance - his cap on his head, loose jeans, a t-shirt and a flannel on. Slippers.

He’s not dressed for traveling OR for politicking.

“Hey, Kurt. So I know this’s a surprising thing, me being here with Blaine, but-”

“You’re not home until next weekend, right? Am I insane?” Kurt’s freaking out, the whole room feeling too small for the three of them. He has a boy in his room, the boy is on his bed, and he’s just lost his virginity for god’s sakes and now his father is talking to him in the same room; next to the same bed...

He grips the doorway tighter as the vision of his dad coming home just a half hour earlier floods his mind.

The door slams downstairs.

Burt stands up quickly, rushing past Kurt.

“You boys just wait for me, okay? I gotta tell Carole not to worry about the car downstairs...

Kurt just watches him disappear down the stairs, mouth agape, towel dropped to the floor, unnoticed.

“Kurt?”

Blaine’s small, tentative voice from his bed rouses him, pulls him back to where Blaine needs him.

“Okay - so, that’s my dad...” be begins, walking to the bed and settling on the end of it as Blaine chuckles softly.

“He introduced himself. When he walked in he didn’t seem to be surprised at me curled on on the pillows. It’s-” Blaine’s voice darkens, “It’s damn serendipitous that he’s a politician, Kurt.”

Kurt eyes Blaine’s face and reads a bit of anger there, something he hasn’t yet seen on Blaine.

“What is it?” he asks, leaning over the folder. He examines the photos on the top of the pile and gasps.

“Is that you?”

Blaine nods until he realizes Kurt isn’t looking.

“Yes. That’s me when I was born, at 2, at 4, at 6...all the even ages until 12. That picture there-” he points and Kurt’s eyes follow, “-was taken three days before I was gone.”

Kurt eyes the photo of the boy, just starting to look like Blaine a little bit in the angle of the jaw, the set of the nose, and then looks up at Blaine again.

“How do you know?”

Blaine’s eyes harden. “The date’s on the back.”

Kurt eyes the pile in front of Blaine, wondering how long his dad has been here.

“How- I mean, Dad’s been here for a little bit?”

Blaine doesn’t look up, just keeps scanning the documents in front of him.

“Yeah, I heard the door about two minutes after you left and I thought it was Carole so I just...I just waited, but closed the door. Then your dad came in and he just...”

Blaine looks up, meeting Kurt’s gaze.

“He just said, ‘Hi, you must be Blaine, I’m Burt’. Just like that.”

Kurt laughs because yeah, that’s his dad.

“So...all this?” Kurt pushes, wanting in on feelings Blaine’s having.

Blaine sighs and gestures to the folder on the bed and speaks.

“Your dad brought it with him - and, by the way, your dad was on a plane at 3:30 this morning and then driven here by who knows who when he got here. The plane was just there for him, he’s a little starstruck.”

Kurt opens his mouth to speak but his father walks back in and sits back down on the chaise.

“So...dad?” Kurt tries, feeling more lost than ever.

Burt sighs, avoiding Kurt’s gaze and addressing Blaine.

“You okay, kid?”

Blaine nods. “Yeah, I mean...yeah. Thanks for bringing all this but...I don’t get why they let you. I mean, I know you’re a congressman and all but this is pretty high security stuff, right, I mean genetic manipulation and whatnot-”

Burt looks at Kurt, resigned.

“It’s because of Kurt’s mom.”

Kurt shivers, his eyes locked with his father’s, waiting.

Burt reaches over and takes Kurt’s hand, tethering them together.

“I met Kurt’s mom one day, in a girl at school that I hadn’t really talked to. But his mom, she walked right up to me and said hello. She said her name was Elizabeth and that she wanted to spend the day with me. I thought it was pretty forward of her at the time, but we did. We walked to classes together and then, after school, we stayed together. We spent until midnight talking to each other and then she said she had to go and was sorry that it was all over. I didn’t get it. Not then. She said she had to go but I thought she meant home. She meant to a different body.”

Kurt gasps, his fingers tightening around Burt’s fingers.

“The next day I was looking for her but she didn’t come to school, ya know? The day after that, and the day after that. And I thought that was it, over, right? But no, the fourth day I got a letter. It was from Elizabeth, telling me that she wanted to see me but that she wanted to know if I loved her - because she already loved me. And god help me, I said yes. I wrote her back, like her letter said, and put it in my mailbox. I watched that damned mailbox until three in the morning that night - but I fell asleep. Three days after that your mother came to the door. But - she wasn’t the same.”

Kurt nods, beginning to understand.

“She had her own body back and luckily for me, her parents lived near here - Findlay, where your grandparents are, Kurt. She lived less than an hour away. We were so lucky.”

“But, how did she get her body back, Burt?” Blaine asks, breaking the hold Kurt’s eyes have on his father.

“She fell in love with me, and her body knew. It just...knew it was right. I mean, your scientists there, they’ll tell ya that the soul, the essence, whatever you want to call it, won’t settle with a non-genetic match but not your mom. She saw me and I saw her and that was it - even if, in the end, her body didn’t look the same. When I saw her, talked to her again, I knew.”

“So my mom,” Kurt whispers, “Was like Blaine?”

“Yep. The same thing happened to her when she got her body back - only it wasn’t as advanced as now. Took them weeks to find her body after it disappeared from holding - and don’t ask me what holding is or where because they won’t even tell me that and I was married to Elizabeth - because they didn’t have the tracker chips then. They started with the host’s old home back then and then would branch out. Sometimes they didn’t find ‘em though.”

Kurt’s head is spinning watching Blaine read his paperwork and Burt look at him as if waiting for something to happen; for Kurt to snap.

He’s getting very close, actually.

He turns to Blaine.

“And you knew all this?!” Kurt barks, hurt and confused.

Blaine’s head whips up, papers crinkling.

“Of course not. I don’t think they ever told mom that there was a possibility...that this could...I don’t think they said, ‘oh hey, your child might come back’.” Blaine’s choking up now, his hands fidgeting at the bedspread.

“No, Kurt,” Burt says, feeling the situation slipping, “Blaine couldn’t have known. They don’t tell the altered’s parents that this can happen because it doesn’t always. Sometimes they never do. The altered’s spirit - soul, essence - whatever, it falls where it falls because that’s where others with the genetic match may be, but it’s not guaranteed.”

“Genetic match?” Kurt asks, face draining. Did Blaine love him because of some random scientist somewhere...because he can’t...it’s not...

“Not like, made for each other, if that’s what you’re asking, stop freaking out buddy.” Kurt’s dad reaches over to pat his arm. “Blaine here dropped into Lima because there were other potential genetic matches here - any child of an altered, although that’s less than 20,000 in the whole world - could be his match. If he finds them and he falls in love with them and they should have the genetic makeup.”

“But-” Kurt’s head can’t take much more. “Why didn’t I drop? When I went through...through puberty?”

“Recessive,” Burt answers crisply, “And I gotta say I was relieved. Elizabeth didn’t want to have children - not because she didn’t want you, she did, so much, and cried so many nights before we made the decision. She didn’t want to have you to just lose you...in the end, we were told as soon as you were born. Recessive. Just like Blaine’s mom, only she found out his were dominant so she knew, from day one, that he would be gone.”

Kurt takes a moment to consider this, to think of Blaine’s mom, alone, Blaine’s dad having been there and then gone and then finding out that she would lose Blaine one day.

It is heartbreaking even to consider.

Blaine’s watching him, his eyes red with tears.

“Burt, this one?”

Burt reaches over to take the paper in Blaine’s hand.

“Yeah, kid. Just take your time, okay. You can stay here - we have the extra room - or you can do this. Either way, know I’m not kicking you out and neither is Carole. Although you might want to introduce yourself at some point. She knows about Elizabeth, barely believed but I think she will now that you’re here. There’s this, too.”

Blaine eyes the envelope and then opens it, examining its contents with widening eyes.

“What...what is, but I-”

“It’s not from me, kid. It’s from the government and it’s all yours. All of you have that in safekeeping for when you wake up - experiment expenditures, I guess, but boy, does it make my tax dollars seem insignificant. You’re 18 so you don’t have to contact a parent, but all your documents are there, too. With your history - should anyone need it. I’m not saying I agree, but I am saying I’ve lived through this and you can do it, kid.”

Kurt eyes Blaine’s hands, seeing a bank statement and a debit card with the name “Blaine Anderson” in gold letters. The card is for the National Bank of Lima.

“What’s on that paper, dad?”

Blaine looks at Kurt again, eyes far away.

“Everything about my mom.”

***

“It’s 9:30 in the morning and it feels like it’s been the longest day of my life,” Blaine remarks, holding Kurt tighter under the covers, “And that’s saying something.”

Kurt burrows closer to Blaine, trying to remain a constant in a world of change. It feels like it’s been the longest day to him, too, but now that his father and Carole have decided to go out to breakfast together, with her accompanying him to the airport afterward, he has a question in his heart.

“Blaine?”

“Mmm hmm,” Blaine replies, sounding close to sleep.

“So your body. It returned to you because...”

He moves his body around so that he can look up at Blaine, not wanting to miss his facial expression. He is surprised to find it red and a little embarrassed.

“Well,” Blaine begins, voice shaken but body still crowded close to Kurt’s. “I guess my - ‘me’-ness? Essence? Soul? I don’t know...it decided that since you were here, I needed to be here? At least that’s what your dad made it sound like. I still have just as many questions as you do but...my body was somewhere - holding? In holding? How weird is that? It blows my mind - that the drops weren’t random at all, just near others like me - there are others like me, like us in Ghana, Kurt. How cool is that?”

Kurt’s still thinking about why Blaine’s here specifically, though the rest of it certainly is interesting. Terrifying, life-altering, and mind-blowing...but interesting.

“Yes, but, you’re here because...” Kurt trails off, feeling like hiding his face.

“I’m here because I love you, and apparently that’s enough to stop six years of jumping, to make my body need to be with my...soul since it was with you. You make me whole, I guess. Is that...is that too much pressure?”

Kurt can’t help it, he’s teary because yeah, it’s a lot but it’s good, too. So good, to be loved like this.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he answers with a smirk, and they drift off.

***

When Blaine wakes again it’s closer to four in the afternoon and the whole house is silent. He’s blinking awake when he realizes that Kurt’s not in the bed with him.

He sits up and glances around the room, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He wouldn’t leave me after all this, right his stupid, worried brain asks. He pushes the thought out of his mind, though, because Kurt’s pushing the door open and then closing it gently behind him, his pajama pants low on his hips and nothing hiding his glorious torso...his arms...

Blaine might have a problem.

“Carole’s sleeping now that she’s back and Finn’s still at Puck’s.” Kurt says, keeping his voice to a whisper.

Blaine nods and then gets out of bed, the need for the bathroom pressing.

“I’ll be right back.”

Blaine pads silently down the hall, taking time to glance at the pictures and take in all of Kurt’s life.

A life he’s now a part of.

He swallows thickly, tears threatening at the changes that have occurred in such short order. A week ago he was in Denmark. The departure is so swift, being in his own body, in love with an amazing, beautiful boy, and looking toward an actual future. A future that may include his mother.

Maybe.

If she wants it.

God, he hopes she wants it.

He gets to the bathroom and takes care of himself there, using the facilities and washing his face. He’s wiping his hands on the towels when he notices an unwrapped toothbrush at the edge of the counter.

He smiles to himself, realizing that Kurt is taking care of him, in both small, seemingly insignificant ways like a toothbrush, and grander, more life-altering ways. Like loving him despite all of his unknowns at the time.

He brushes his teeth, humming to himself and reveling in this simple act because they’re his teeth and it’s his body he’s commanding, and then goes back to Kurt’s room, smiling.

When he gets there he needs to stop a moment because, wow. Kurt’s laid out on the bed on his stomach, the covers still at the bottom of the bed, his back exposed to Blaine’s searching eyes.

”Shit,” he says, need rumbling through his chest.

Kurt cranes his neck to look at Blaine, his body arching slightly, stealing the breath from Blaine’s lungs.

“What?” Kurt asks, his face heart-achingly innocent.

He really doesn’t know, Blaine thinks, and that just makes Kurt hotter, his body more luminous because fuck.

Blaine doesn’t answer. Instead he turns and pushes the door closed, flicking the lock before turning back to face Kurt.

Kurt eyes the doorknob, his face etched with surprise. He lifts his gaze and Blaine sees the moment Kurt understands. The way his eyelids fall and his lips twist into a coy smile.

“Blaine Anderson,” he whispers, soft and sweet, “I do believe you are having inappropriate thoughts about my person.”

Blaine moves toward the bed, thumbs hooking into his pajama bottoms and pulling them off slowly, slowly, his cock half-hard and held down by the elastic.

Kurt bites his lip and his eyes betray him, darkening and tracing Blaine’s body. He watches Blaine move forward and then crooks his finger at him, knees sliding over the sheets until he’s at the edge of the bed. He meets Blaine there and bats his hands away, pulling at the pajama pants until they’re down Blaine’s legs and pooled around his ankles.

“You should step out of those so you don’t hurt yourself later,” Kurt teases, leaning down and swiping his tongue across the head of Blaine’s dick.

Blaine sighs softly and steps out of the pants.

“You want me to?” Kurt asks, words threaded with nerves.

Blaine looks down at him, lashes framing impossibly dark amber eyes. “Please.”

Kurt licks at him again, swiping his tongue fully over the head of his cock and then taking it into his mouth to suck softly at the tip.

Blaine watches as Kurt slowly works his way down his cock, hushed words of encouragement sliding over his tongue as Kurt grows more sure, his mouth commanding; his hands guiding Blaine deftly through escalating levels of pleasure. He pulls off occasionally to work his hands over Blaine’s cock, his torso, raking them up and over his nipples, making Blaine cry out softly as not to wake Carole.

“T-Tease,” Blaine breathes, watching Kurt’s tongue snake it’s way down his length, Kurt’s eyes locked on him, smug smile hinting at his lips.

“You love it, don’t you Blaine?” Kurt asks, all nervousness gone. Blaine can’t quite pinpoint when Kurt started owning his sexuality but it’s there in spades, threatening to overtake him and make him come much too soon.

He pushes Kurt back, surprising even himself, and is on him in a moment, mouthing at his neck, letting his tongue run out and along Kurt’s clavicle, his pec, his left nipple.

“Blaine- Blaine,” his name like want and lust wrapped up in sex and he’s flipping Kurt over, biting at his spine and making him mewl against the sheets, leaking cock ruining another set. He lets his tongue work over Kurt as well, licking hard and quick at the base of Kurt’s spine like it’s the head of his cock and Kurt groans as Blaine pulls off his pants. When he’s naked Blaine stares as Kurt ruts at the bed and spreads his legs further.

He knows what Kurt wants and fuckshitgoddamn is it hot that Kurt’s not telling him, just showing him with his body.

He grabs roughly at the cheeks of Kurt’s ass, spreading Kurt open and bending down quickly to swipe at Kurt’s hole with his tongue.

“Fuck,” Kurt yells, then buries his mouth in the sheets, eyes wide and focused on the door.

Blaine watches the door, too, but after a minute passes and they hear nothing he brings his mouth back to Kurt’s ass, licking him intently, his tongue sweeping over Kurt again and again as his fingers curl into the sheets. Blaine hears him saying something softly,his voice muffled and needy. He stops.

“What are you you saying? C’mon,” he chides, pushing against Kurt’s hole with his fingertips.

“Please, Blaine, please don’t stop, oh my god, don’t stop,” Kurt begs, hips grinding into the mattress.

“You better let me hear you then,” Blaine replies, pausing long enough to reach below Kurt’s bed to bring out the trusted box and retrieve the lube.

He resumes eating Kurt’s ass, Kurt’s eyes on him, eyebrows drawn tightly together as he begins to chant again. Blaine realizes it’s a litany of yes’s and Blaines’s sewn together with tiny sounds of pleasure that make his blood burn as he stops to lube up the fingers of his right hand.

“Want to be inside you, Kurt,” he says, gauging his reaction.

“Just...your fingers? I’ve- I’ve never done that so...” Kurt trails off, worry clouding his features.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t go any further than you say,” Blaine soothes, circling his fingertips at Kurt’s hole and watching him writhe.

“I-I trust you,” Kurt says, his eyes closing as Blaine breaches him, lightly circling just inside his body to stretch, tease. “Fuck, yes...Blaine,” he whispers as Blaine opens him more, sliding his finger in further.

Blaine moves up the bed until he’s over Kurt, kissing and biting at the back of his neck. His fingers seek and push, opening Kurt up and making him whine as he arches back on Blaine’s finger.

Blaine licks at Kurt’s shoulderblades, biting down and listening to him come apart as he rocks against Blaine, forcing him deeper, repeating the action till he’s keening; sharp, small cries in the silence. Blaine adds another finger, stretching him open and angling his fingers so they're pushing down, pushing towards Kurt’s front, seeking.

He hears it when he pushes right, accidentally, and only once before Kurt’s turning, surging in to kiss and bite at Blaine’s lips. Blaine’s fingers slip out and he’s wiping them on the ruined sheets as he angles Kurt onto his left side and grabs the lube.

Kurt tilts his head back, looking into Blaine’s eyes, questioning.

“Trust me, okay?” Blaine whimpers as his hand strokes lube up and down his cock. He settles behind Kurt, bringing his own right leg over Kurt’s and slips his cock between Kurt’s taut cheeks. He rolls his hips, the head of his cock gliding easily against Kurt’s ass, his head catching on Kurt’s hole on each thrust.

“Fuckfuckfuck, yes,” Kurt’s groaning, biting at Blaine’s left arm as Blaine reaches around Kurt’s hip to grab at his cock and stroke.

It doesn’t last long, Kurt’s glorious body arching against him, sliding and teasing at his cock as his orgasm builds low in his hips and Kurt’s soft little ‘ah’s’ get higher and higher; Blaine’s strokes becoming more firm and rhythmic.

It’s Kurt who comes first, shaking and staining the sheets as his teeth sink into Blaine’s bicep, pushing him over the edge as well.

They lay there until it’s not comfortable, breathing coming slower and more focused. Blaine moves first, looking to the sheets again.

“So do you have a third set of sheets, or...?”

Kurt snorts, slowly sitting up as he assesses the situation. He looks over to Blaine, eyeing the mess on his stomach and then daring to reach around to touch his own body.

“Ugh. So I love sex. I especially love sex with you, but this part is going to take some getting used to...and not feeling awkward about it in front of you, too.” Kurt colors, reaching down to pull at the corners of the sheet and tug it up to wipe at himself.

“Don’t feel awkward, it’s just us.” Blaine says, not thinking about what he’s saying until...us.

Kurt looks up at him fondly, forgetting the sheets, the bed, his body and just looking.

“Yeah,” he agrees softly, eyes crinkling, “It’s us.”

***

Blaine looks at the house - there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts next to it and the front says it’s a hair salon. The autumn wind is biting at the windows, and he’s not quite sure where to park so he finally just pulls into the coffee place, cutting the engine and staring at the apartment building.

Kurt had driven him to the airport in the small hours of the morning, Blaine lugging his small carry-on through security and biting back fears of rejection and blank stares. He had opted to go alone, wanting to face whatever awaited him without the added layer of Kurt and all that he symbolizes. Wanting to see her as just himself first.

He hopes she’s at home.

He gets out of the rental car and locks the doors with the remote, the beep indicating that his small cache of personal belongings will be safe for the time being, and then crosses the parking lot to the driveway of the unassuming home. It’s Saturday, and the salon downstairs is busy, all the parking spots behind the building taken and Blaine mentally thanks himself for parking in the spots next door.

Behind the house Blaine finds a back door to the salon, as well as a stairway leading up to the apartment entrances. He takes these stairs and makes his way to the second floor, mindful of the low-hanging edge of the porch on his way up. There is a door at the top, and he pushes through it, passing by the first apartment, its music pumping out through the walls. He walks through another doorway and finds himself in front of a door - the door, he supposes, and takes a moment to look around the upstairs porch.

There is a small rocking chair here with a tiny table beside it. A glass half-full with water sits there, as well as a small basket with knitting in it. He smiles to himself, remembering all the sweaters his mother had made him as a child, joking about being an old lady before her time.

He remembers wanting to learn to knit like her.

His chest constricts then because what if. What if she doesn’t know who he is or what if she doesn’t want to see him again. What if she’s become someone he doesn’t understand or know, or what if...

He stomps out these thoughts, staring out at the dark reds and oranges of the Vermont trees as they make their fall finale, bright against the cloudy October morning.

He knocks.

From the window in the door he can see into the kitchen - a washer and dryer against the wall next to the door, a refrigerator and a stove...plenty of cupboards. He sees a cat run into the kitchen at the sound of the knock, and then movement in the small doorway that looks like it leads to a living room.

When she sees him through the door she stops by the stove and holds herself up, one hand clutched to her chest and her face falling, falling...

Blaine’s chest twists as she stands there, all his fears swirling to the forefront of his mind but then she’s moving, scrambling for the doorlock and tugging the door open.

He’s about to speak, to say something, anything when she’s all around him, hugging him and holding him close, unmindful of the chill air, whispering “Blaine, my baby, oh my god, Blaine,” over and over, tears flowing down her cheeks and mixing with his own. In that moment he knows.

His mother has never forgotten him.

Epilogue

“Blaine, your hair is fine, we have to go take pictures now or we’ll be late!”

Blaine checks his curls once more, making sure they aren’t too unruly before sweeping out of the bathroom, following Kurt’s trailing red gown down the stairs and into the living room.

“Well look at these three,” Burt says, pride overcoming his usually playful tone. “All the smart guys in the room are wearing red today.”

Kurt turns to eye Blaine, their matching gowns blending together as they stand next to the stairs, Finn stepping out of the living room to join them in a gown of his own.

Burt ushers them all outside, Carole and Simone Anderson following close behind.

“He looks amazing,” Simone says, voice shaking, “He’s just so grown up.”

Carole looks to the strong woman beside her. Over the past seven months the two women have become very close, Simone trusting Carole to watch over her son, at his wishes, as he finished his high school career 750 miles away from her. In return she had retained her position at the University of Vermont, providing Blaine would talk to her every other day and video chat with her on weekends.

Carole has grown to love her as much as she loves Blaine.

“He is. They both are. We have so much to be proud of.”

They both watch as Burt takes pictures of their boys, first hand-in-hand, then arm-in-arm, and, much to Burt’s chagrin, lip-to-lip.

“Do you think they will be alright in New York?”

Simone glances at Carole. They have had this discussion many times over the past few months and her answer is still the same.

“I have said it before, and I still believe it. They will last a lifetime.”