All Through the Night
Author's Note: Hi! I finished a fic for you! It started out as something entirely different, but has been refocused into Kurt and Blaine's interactions with the lullaby "All Through the Night" over the course of their lives.
Warning: there is character death, but I promise promise promise it's designed to be everything you ever could have wished for these two. It is, however, designed to be a tear-jerker, so have tissues ready.
This one's dedicated to Katia (kingblaine on tumblr), because I awesomely finished this on her birthday, and I bet I can make her cry with this.
Special Note: "All Through the Night" is an Irish lullaby, and while there are copyrighted arrangements, the lyrics are in the public domain.
And thus, with all notes left, I give you:
All Through the Night
"Sing it again, Mommy, please?" The little boy said, his little fingers reaching up for his mother's face. They were slim fingers for a child Kurt's age, Elizabeth thought, but Kurt had always been her little pixie baby.
"The point is for you to sleep, sweetheart. It's not doing the trick if you're still awake after I finish it." Elizabeth said, stroking over Kurt's hair. Burt had already finished his tucking-in ritual and was back downstairs, so now was Elizabeth's alone time with her boy. And, as much as she may try to get him to sleep, part of her wished just the slightest bit that he would stay awake just a little while longer. There was always a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she and Kurt wouldn't get enough time together.
"But you sing so pretty and it's my favorite. Mommy, is it true?" He asked with that honest candor that was so striking in him, always opening himself up to hear the worst of it.
"Is what true?"
"That God's going to send me the garden angels." Kurt said, and Elizabeth laughed.
"Guardian angels, sweetheart." Elizabeth murmured. "That means they're there to protect you. And yes. Your whole life long, you're going to have guardian angels."
"Like the ones in Gramma's house?"
"No. At least I don't think so, Kurt." Elizabeth murmured. "I guess there are many ways to look at guardian angels. Some of them are like Papa Hummel, and are the people who love you and care about you but have already died. So those would sort of be like the ones in Mom's house. But some are going to be the people who come into your life because you need them there to care for you and help you."
"Does that make you one of my gu-ard-an angels, Mommy?" Kurt asked, cocking his head to the side.
Elizabeth paused, looking at her little boy: his soft hair, his pale skin, the scratch on his cheek. She'd rolled her eyes at the speeches of the depths of a mother's love before she had Kurt, but she now knew that she would literally do anything to make him happy.
"Of course I am, sweetheart."
"Why do you say 'love' but Gramma says 'child'?" Kurt asked, going on with his enthusiasm, unknowing of the small ache in Elizabeth's heart.
"Because it means the same thing. And sometimes I like to sing this song to Daddy, and he's not a child even if he acts like it sometimes." Elizabeth explained, and Kurt nodded, his tiny lips forming an O shape. "Now, if I sing you the song one more time, will you fall asleep for me?" She asked, and when Kurt nodded emphatically, she smiled and began to sing again.
"Sleep, my love, and peace attend thee…"
Guardian angels God will send thee
Kurt turned away from Blaine so he could compose himself.
"I can go sleep in the living room if you want, Blaine. It's really not that big of a problem." He said, sticking the pads of his fingers into the corners of his eyes to shock his tear ducts a little and hopefully stay the brewing tears.
"No, no, this is fine. We can sleep in the same bed. You're so nice for letting me sleep in your bed at all, you're just a wonderful friend, Kurt." Blaine rambled from where he was sitting on the corner of the bed. "Really, I could have gone home, Kurt, you didn't have to do this."
"Don't be ridiculous, your dad would have killed you if you had shown up this late and drunk." Kurt said, turning and giving the curly-haired boy a small smile that he was sure didn't reach his eyes, but it wasn't like Blaine was in a state to notice.
Not that it was Blaine's job to notice. Not that it was anyone's job to notice. No, Kurt kept putting these expectations on people that no one lived up to. He had all these notions, about Blaine most of all. Just because he noticed once didn't mean he had to notice all the time.
He wasn't Kurt's fucking guardian angel or anything.
But that's what Kurt wanted him to be, wasn't it? A guardian angel like his mother had told him about years and years ago. It started off well enough, hadn't it? Here came Blaine, entering Kurt's life just when he needed him, rescuing him from the escalating danger at McKinley.
But guardian angels weren't real, not even Mom. If she could be an angel for him, why was he gay in a small-minded town in Ohio? Why had she left him in the first place? Where was she when Dad had his heart attack? When Karofsky told him he'd kill him?
If Mom were really his guardian angel, he wouldn't have needed Blaine in the first place.
"Why are shoes so hard to get off?" Blaine muttered, and Kurt snapped around to go help him. To do something practical, rather than muddle over how terrible things were.
"Here." Kurt said, trying to look intently at his friend's shoe until Blaine tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up and was met with Blaine's tipsy smile.
"You're really my very best friend, Kurt."
No, Blaine was no angel. Angels weren't supposed to hurt this much. Angels weren't supposed to recruit your help in wooing someone one week, find out you like them and then make out with one of your best friends.
"You're my best friend, too, Blaine." Kurt said with a sigh, not meeting his eyes. Because he was, no matter how ridiculous Kurt was being right now, and no matter how many dumb things Blaine did.
"I run away, Kurt." Blaine said simply, and Kurt looked up with a frown.
"What?"
"I always run away when I'm scared. And I wish I could be more like you, but I always run away from things that mean the most to me!" Blaine's earlier bounce and fun was gone, and Kurt found himself looking at a very serious Blaine in front of him.
"Blaine, I don't know what you're talking about." Kurt said, grasping his hands. He was starting to worry, what could Blaine be on about? He couldn't be planning to run away from home or anything, could he?
"I hope I get brave enough, Kurt." Blaine muttered, looking down. "I hope I get brave enough that you're proud of me."
"Blaine, you're talking nonsense, come here. Get in bed." Kurt said, turning down the bed and patting it for Blaine to get in.
"I'm serious, Kurt." Blaine murmured, climbing up to the bed. It suddenly struck Kurt how young Blaine was, despite his carefully-crafted façade. Drunk like this, Blaine was practically a baby. Normally, he was still a year younger than Kurt.
"You don't have to worry about making me proud, Blaine. Ever." Kurt murmured, going to his dresser and getting pajamas. "Sorry, did you want to change into a pair? I'm a distracted host."
Distracted by how this is every bit an opposite of what his first time sleeping in the same bed with another boy should be, and now by Blaine's nonsensical worries.
"No, I'm fine. Thank you so much, Kurt. You're always taking care of me." Blaine murmured.
"It's okay, Blaine." Kurt sighed. "It's what I'm here for. Just don't run away while I change or anything."
When he came back from the bathroom, Blaine was almost asleep. As Kurt slipped into the bed, careful of Blaine's space, a hand crept over to his sleeve.
"Your voice is so pretty, Kurt. Even if no one else notices sometimes, I do. I bet it sounds really pretty singing a lullaby, Kurt. Can you sing me one? Please?"
"Yeah." Kurt replied in a whisper, staring at the ceiling, hoping he didn't cry. "There's one my mom always used to sing me." And it was cruel. It was awful. But if he couldn't say it any other way, at least he could get the word out of his gut this way.
Visions of delight revealing
"You're sure you can stay the night?" Blaine asked for the third time, and Kurt nodded, a smile cracking across his face.
"I promise." Kurt said, snuggling just a little further into Blaine's chest.
"They're not going to, like, call the house and expect you to pick up, are they?" Blaine asked, his thumb grazing gently against the curve of Blaine's back.
"Finn's home, he'll cover for me." Kurt murmured, shivering a little with how good that slow stroking movement felt. How everything felt, really— Blaine below him warm and squishy but still very firm, with a beating heart and expanding and contracting lungs. "Besides, he doesn't want me there anyway." Kurt crinkled his nose, and Blaine did the same.
"Okay, no matter what she says, I did not want to sleep with you just because of my role as Tony." Blaine said, and Kurt snorted.
"If I was having doubts, that would hardly be convincing. However, I knew all about that the entire time." Kurt said with a little smile, drumming his fingers on Blaine's shoulder, some pads of his fingers hitting skin and others his undershirt.
"How…" Blaine started, making Kurt laugh.
"Artie asked me about it the next day before practice, and how come I wasn't 'gettin' dat ass.'"
"Oh God."
"Precisely."
"So what did you tell him?" Blaine asked, eyes big and wide, and Kurt struggled to keep his eyes open and not just melt into the warmth he felt for Blaine.
"That my sexual decisions are up for consideration by me and my lovely, handsome, considerate and caring boyfriend only, and he'd do best to keep his nose out of them because the negligible extent of his experience with the crossover between love and sex excludes him by far from having anything worthwhile to say on the subject."
"I love you."
And that was it, that was all Kurt needed to know, and the only thing he ever needed to hear. He smiled, laying his face back down against the coarse fabric of Blaine's undershirt. The weave was so rigid he would usually never touch it with his hands, let alone his face, but tonight was different. Blaine was different.
Or maybe at this point he should just own up to the fact that Blaine was everything, and tonight was everything.
"I love you, too." Kurt said, unable to even attempt to make a joke. He couldn't say it enough times tonight, let alone ever. But tonight it kept flying to his lips: an acceptance of an apology, a plea, an encouragement and a promise.
"I love you, too." Blaine whispered, and Kurt was pretty sure he was in the same state.
"How do you feel?" He asked, looking up at Blaine again, watching as he considered.
"Happy. Warm. Like I could fly. But I don't want to. I'd rather just stay with you."
Kurt snorted, though he was still smiling. He felt the same way, really.
"I meant, you know."
"Oh, that? I feel fine." Blaine said, bringing a hand up and stroking over Kurt's temple with his thumb. Kurt leaned into the soft graze of Blaine's touch, eyes drifting shut.
"I hope you can still say that tomorrow." He murmured.
"Even if I can't, it's so, so worth it, Kurt." He said, stroking through Kurt's hair, which he only got to do once in a while since Kurt thought it would be a dead giveaway about anything if he were seen unintentionally disheveled.
Right now he wouldn't give a damn if he were forced to walk through town exactly how he were. Nothing mattered except Blaine.
"You don't think we got too carried away, do you?" Kurt asked, looking up sheepishly.
"No." Blaine said, then frowned. "Why, do you?"
That was one of those wonderful things about Blaine, he always answered the question before freaking out about it. Kurt appreciated it just as much as he appreciated the firm grasp of his arms around him.
"No. I mean, everything acts like it expects us to go gradually, so I didn't know if you maybe had rationally wanted less."
Blaine laughed a little bit, the rolling of his stomach under Kurt's chest pleasant and comforting.
"I don't think I've been rational since the moment I met you, Kurt Hummel."
"You mean you were before?" Blaine laughed again, his hand not stroking Kurt's face clutching at the soft, white cotton t-shirt he had given Kurt to wear.
"I'm not sure. It's hard to remember." He said, smiling down at him. "But no, I think we did this right. Right for us, at least. Because we didn't need to be gradual to make sure that we weren't making a mistake. We waited until we were ready."
"There you go, getting poetic on me." Kurt murmured, smiling up at Blaine, his eyes closed and his smile so wide hit hurt.
"Get up here and kiss me." Blaine said, fidgeting under him. "You haven't kissed me in, like, over five minutes."
"But I like laying on you." Kurt murmured, snuggling himself against Blaine further. "I'm just going to lay on you forever."
"But then you'll never get to kiss me." Blaine pouted, and Kurt let himself laugh before sliding up Blaine's body, Blaine's undershirt rucking up with him as he went, until he was eye to eye and mouth to mouth with his wonderful boyfriend.
"That just wouldn't do, would it?" He mused aloud before catching Blaine's lips in one soft, gentle kiss. Blaine's arms both wrapped around his waist, holding him close and tight and snug, and he remembered that thought earlier: yes, I could fly like this, if only you still held me then.
"You are going to stay the night, aren't you?" Blaine asked after they broke apart, his eyes big and wide and his voice wavering.
"Of course I am." Kurt said firmly, and smiled as Blaine loosened one arm from around him and brought it up to take his hand instead. "I'd never ever leave if I could." He finished, the last of his sentence catching off in a yawn. Blaine gently tipped him over to his side, so they could rest gently beside each other, hands still clasped.
"You know, the last time we slept in the same bed you sang me a lullaby." Blaine said, grinning cheekily before sitting up to switch off the lamps.
"The last time we slept in the same bed you were so drunk I didn't think you'd remember." Kurt challenged.
"I do remember, and it was beautiful." Blaine said, and Kurt's breath caught. Blaine settled back down, his head on the same pillow, inches away from Kurt's, his wide eyes reflecting the little bits of light creeping in from around the doorframe to the hallway beyond where they weren't quite sure if the Anderson parents would reemerge that night.
"Fine, but don't expect this to become a thing."
"Oh, it's totally a thing." Blaine quipped back, resting a hand on Kurt's waist. The older boy only rolled his eyes and began to sing softly but clearly.
They woke up the next morning curled tight around each other, Kurt's nose in the crook of Blaine's neck and Blaine's chin hooked on Kurt's shoulder.
I my loved ones' watch am keeping
It was a good thing Burt was still in D.C., because Kurt still hadn't figured out how he was going to tell him.
Also, he would have sent Blaine home, or at least made Blaine sleep on the sofa, or something else that would take Blaine away from him right now. That, Kurt wouldn't have been able to deal with, because Blaine's strong arms around him are all that seem to be keeping him sane right now.
They'd stopped talking hours ago, when the tears dried. No, Kurt wasn't crying right now. He wasn't sure what stage he was in right now, after so many changes over the course of the evening. He was worn out and tired, and so thankful that Carole had merely brought in a late dinner on a tray and informed them that she'd called Blaine's parents to tell them he was spending the night. He'd thanked her softly but so honestly, even though he had no plans to eat the food. He assumed she'd heard from Finn, who he could still hear blundering around the house. He seemed to be talking about calling off the wedding right now rather than his father, but he kept flipping back and forth.
Kurt's evening seemed linear, at least, unless he was back to shock. It didn't feel like the shock, though, this odd calm. There was a bit of determination starting to creep in, too, and that was good. That's what would fuel him from this point on, he knew. That bit of determination and the ball of determination that was Blaine, so patient and sweet with him right now, but Kurt knew tomorrow Blaine would be pushing him to check his backups he had left unopened out of superstition and see what steps needed to be taken if those didn't turn out in Kurt's favor, either.
Blaine had been waiting outside the choir room when the three were opening their letters, and Kurt had left as soon as Rachel had opened hers and declared what happened. He'd congratulated her, of course, and told her full-heartedly that no one deserved it more than she did. But then she went straight into talking about the god damn wedding, and Kurt knew he had to leave before he said anything he'd regret. Because as long as Rachel still cared more about this idiotic fantasy more than the fact that all her dreams were coming true, she didn't deserve it, even if he knew she really did. So he had snuck out of the room, glancing down the hallways for Blaine like a deer in the headlights.
Blaine, of course, only needed one look to tell what had been inside the envelope.
"Kurt."
Kurt hoped he would never, ever have to hear Blaine say his name that way again, as though Blaine's own dreams were falling down around him. Instantly, though, Blaine had been in front of him, his hands taking Kurt's, impeded only by that damn envelope. Kurt had looked down, looking at the sight blankly.
"We'll burn it." Blaine promised, and Kurt nodded. Blaine had swallowed, setting his jaw as he wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist. "Here, I'll drive. Come on, let's get out of here. You don't belong here anymore, anyway." He had said, deftly taking Kurt's keys from his left pocket and walking them to the parking lot.
"Rachel got in. You should text her and congratulate her." Kurt said as Blaine swiftly drove them over to the Hummel-Hudson home, holding his hand when he didn't need it on the wheel. Blaine sighed, taking his phone out and texting her at a stop sign.
As he pulled up and parked in front of the house, he had unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to Kurt, his eyes scanning over his face with particular focus on his dry eyes.
"Kurt." Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the deluge of stifling comforting words that he wasn't ready to hear. "I love you."
Kurt opened his eyes and met Blaine's, and that's when he let himself sink. He slumped forward, right into Blaine's shoulder, still restrained by the seatbelt across his chest but not caring as he just let himself breathe.
"I, I just… I…" Kurt murmured, trying to really talk for the first time. Blaine shushed him, running a hand up and down his arm and unbuckling Kurt's seatbelt so they could get just a little bit closer.
"Let's just go in, Kurt. Come on." He'd murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of Kurt's forehead as he sat him back up. Blaine had even thoughtfully set the leg room back to Kurt's height before getting out and walking around the Navigator, helping Kurt out and holding him as they walked up to the house.
The two slunk right past Carole as she was watching TV in the living room and right up to Kurt's room. Blaine had taken the smashed envelope and its contents out of Kurt's hands gently and put it to the side before bringing Kurt over to the bed carefully, towing off his own shoes and unfastening Kurt's as well, and enveloped his boyfriend in his arms on the bed as he waited for the shock to wear off.
Kurt had just begun chanting "I didn't get in, I didn't make it," when they started to overhear Finn ranting to his mother downstairs about Rachel and the wedding. That's probably why the anger came first, Kurt thought in retrospect.
Kurt's anger stage had been short but fierce, involving him jumping up out of Blaine's arms and shouting as loud as he dared about how unfair it all was. How he had given his life and breath trying to get into this school, and yet it all went to Rachel Berry, who even now was planning her God damned wedding. How he could just as well have been the one to sing a solo at nationals, and should have been, considering Mr. Schue watched both of their auditions and saw how good Kurt had been. How he wanted this just as bad as Rachel did, and had all the determination and drive to go with it.
He even gave a moment of attention to the fact that he should have been class president, as their class president wasn't even fucking graduating.
And then, just as quickly as the anger had bubbled and boiled and sparked, it had dissolved into the tears.
"I gave the audition of my life, Blaine, and it wasn't good enough." He'd said, turning back to Blaine, his voice breaking and the tears falling. Blaine had stood up off the bed and caught hold of Kurt just in time as he started to sink to the floor. He'd dragged Kurt back over to the bed with all of his boxing strength helping him support his boyfriend, and curled himself back around him as Kurt cried into his chest and he whispered encouraging things into Kurt's hair even as Kurt spoke all the reasons why he felt like a failure.
The tears had lasted the longest so far, at least a few hours in comparison to the hour of shock and half-hour of anger. Blaine had pulled tissues from the bedside table and handled Kurt's messy, embarrassing runny nose like a saint, and shucked his cardigan, Kurt's vest and dress shirt and both of their bowties in the process. With Kurt just in his undershirt and Blaine in his t-shirt, it became much more comfortable for them both.
As Kurt sniveled out his last few tears he had tried to express how much this meant to him, how thankful he was for Blaine to be here and hold him and not be running away at the first indication that hand sanitizer would be necessary. But Blaine merely shushed him, running a hand down his arm gently.
"Of course I'm here, Kurt. I'll always be."
The most recent stage had been to stare quietly at the ceiling for a long period of time, taking deep breaths and appreciating all of Blaine's little touches: a hand brushing across his forehead, finger tips down his arms, a soft circle on his shoulder. It was a miracle Blaine wasn't bored, or hungry, or otherwise expressing discontent with his current predicament.
A large yawn escaped Kurt's mouth before he could hold it back. Blaine sat up a little bit so he was leaning over Kurt, and he was smiling.
"Ready for bed, I take it?" He asked, and Kurt nodded.
"I'll get pajamas." Blaine said, going to Kurt's dresser and getting two pairs of his own sweatpants out of the dresser. Deftly, he took off his jeans, folding them and tossing them over a chair before sliding one pair of sweatpants on.
Kurt couldn't help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend changing in his room, the pure domesticity of it sweet enough to make him forget about everything going to hell around him for just a minute.
As soon as Blaine was changed he walked over to Kurt with the other pair and reached out for Kurt's belt buckle.
"I can change myself, Blaine, really." Kurt scoffed, moving to sit up, but Blaine just shook his head and continued.
"I know you can." He said, undoing Kurt's jeans anyway, sliding them down softly and folding them once they were off. "But I just want to help." He slid the sweatpants up Kurt's legs, making sure Kurt was fully dressed before sliding back up over him and kissing him gently.
"I love you so much." Kurt murmured, wrapped up in Blaine's arms and practically drunk on Blaine's care.
"I love you, too, Kurt." Blaine murmured back, brushing some of his boyfriend's hair off his face and kissing him again. "We should sleep."
"I'm not singing you a lullaby this time." Kurt said, smiling as Blaine settled down beside him and wrapped him up. As the taller boyfriend, he rarely got this chance to be the little spoon.
"I was actually going to sing to you," Blaine said quietly, kissing the back of Kurt's neck. "You might have to prompt me on some of the words, but I think I know them."
Kurt's eyes were wet when he fell asleep holding Blaine's hands in front of his chest, but definitely not because of that damn NYADA application.
While the moon her watch is keeping
"I miss you." Blaine murmured, slumping down so fast his face blurred for a second on Kurt's screen.
"Thirty-two days." Kurt said, sighing and flicking at a ball of fabric on his bedspread before looking back up at Blaine. "This is the part where you tell me to have courage, right?"
"Courage." Blaine said, his tone resentful. Kurt didn't blame him, he felt the same way ever since Blaine's parents had announced he wasn't allowed to come to New York and visit Kurt.
The fact that their reason had been that it would "detract from his schoolwork" made Kurt question whether they realized their son had transferred to McKinley at all, or if they realized the type of institution McKinley High was.
But, Blaine had made his case by saying that he would be would almost definitely be valedictorian there, so the attention to his academic life was probably asked for.
And though they both had shiny new laptops with retina displays that managed to show Kurt every single one of Blaine's pores and where the bit of stubble was growing in on his chin, every time he couldn't just reach up and wrap his fingers in Blaine's hair felt personal.
"So, Mr. Schue is insisting on giving Sugar a duet with Sam at Sectionals." Blaine said, interrupting Kurt's little pity party. He looked up at the screen with a frown, confused.
"What?"
"He says all of the veterans should get something special. I'm closing, which is nice, and Tina and Artie are opening, and we're featuring Britt dancing through the entire thing, so he wants to put those two in the middle."
"Is it a duet in the style of Taylor Swift getting three words of echo on a John Mayer song?" Kurt suggested, and Blaine shrugged.
"That would be the only version I'd be okay with, but the theme is 90s so I doubt it."
"And he's doing it in duets instead of a big girls' number? It's almost like he wants to lose." Kurt said, shaking his head.
"Well, Sugar and Sam are singing Wannabe. He tried to assign Tina and Artie Genie in a Bottle, but that obviously didn't go over too well, so they're singing Ummbop."
"And what are you singing, oh noble soloist?" Kurt said with a little smile, cocking his head to catch the glow off his screen just right.
"Tearin' Up My Heart, with fitting choreography and everything." Blaine said triumphantly. "I just wish we still had Mercedes here to sing I Will Always Love You. We'd win in a heartbeat."
"Every choir will try to sing that one, Blaine. And really? You only wish Mercedes were there?" He said, pouting. Blaine grinned.
"For the competition? Yes. Because if you were here I wouldn't show up, I'd just have the two of us locked in my room." Blaine said, bouncing.
"That sounds cozy." Kurt said, laying down a little bit. A glance at his clock — he had Skype on full screen so he could see Blaine just that much closer — told him it was past one. "Is that what we're doing when I'm home for Thanksgiving?"
"Cuddling and eating, that's it, that's all we're doing." Blaine agreed, slumping down a bit, too. Kurt took a not-so-discreet smell of the t-shirt he was wearing, which was actually Blaine's. It was starting to lose its smell, so hopefully there was a new one coming in the mail soon. Blaine had hinted at a care package the other night. "You're sure Carole's okay with me imposing on Thanksgiving dinner?" Blaine asked.
"You're not imposing, and she's delighted. But, really, I wouldn't be upset with you if you wanted to go to you Aunt Maggie's house that weekend. I'd still get you for the first part of the week.
"It's fine, Kurt. I hate going there anyway, especially since I'm forbidden to mention my lovely, successful, sophisticated New York boyfriend while I'm there."
"You have a New York boyfriend? I was only aware of the Ohio one." Kurt said with a quirk of his lips.
"No, I have a New York one. If I had an Ohio one, I wouldn't be up all night Skyping him, would I?" He said, yawning and slumping down a little further.
"Are you tired?" Kurt asked, his fingers skimming down the bottom of his screen as he remembered just how physically affectionate and cuddly Blaine was when he was sleepy. Feeling suddenly hopelessly lonely, he grabbed a pillow and curled around it.
"Not enough to stop talking." Blaine said. "And the box you're getting tomorrow has one of my pillow cases in it so that hopefully I can stop feeling like my heart's being pulled out every time you do that."
"I'm getting a box tomorrow?" He asked, perking up a little bit. While it was nice, and by 'nice' totally necessary to Kurt's sanity and well-being, to Skype Blaine every night, the little packages he sent were really helpful in remembering his boyfriend really did exist and wasn't just a reoccurring dream. From the way Blaine had been crying a little last week when he called to say he got his own package, he had a feeling he felt the same way.
"If the postal service holds up its side of the bargain. But that's all I'm telling you, because I want the rest to be a surprise."
"I wish you were in the box." Kurt murmured, smiling at his screen. Blaine smiled, too, and for a second it all just felt so cheap and secondary to Kurt. He wanted his boyfriend here wrapped in his arms, and to be able to look him in the eyes rather than just look at his eyes.
"Sweetheart?" Blaine said, and Kurt's eyes refocused to see Blaine's looking both a little sad and sleepy.
"Sorry, just missing you." Kurt said, giving Blaine a sad little smile.
"Thirty-two days." Blaine echoed, ending on a yawn.
"You should go to sleep, honey. You have school tomorrow." Kurt said gently.
"It's your turn to sing me to sleep. I sang to you last night." Blaine said, leaning up and shutting off his lamp so that he was only a blur in a dark screen. Kurt sighed, remembering the haunting, beautiful version of Danny Boy Blaine had sung to him the night before. He turned off his lamp and sighed.
"Aren't you getting tired of this song?" Kurt asked, and Blaine let out a grunt of dissent. "Fine, I'll sing. Goodnight, Blaine, I love you."
"I love you, too. Goodnight, Kurt." Blaine mumbled, and Kurt began to sing. When he was done he heard the little snores his boyfriend was making and decided for the third night in a row not to end the call.
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
"Come on, Blaine, you need to get some sleep or else all of this studying is going to be useless." Kurt said, climbing up on the arm of their sofa to drape himself over his boyfriend's back.
"I still haven't reviewed Tchaikovsky, Mozart or Beethoven." Blaine said with an endearing level of panic, running an ink-stained hand through his hair. Kurt smiled and pulled it away, planting a kiss over the ruffled curls that had been free of gel all day because Blaine was just going to abuse them this way.
"And why did you save them for last? Kurt asked, snaking his hands over Blaine's chest and placing his head so that the curve of Blaine's head was inside the curve of his chin and neck.
"Because I already know them best." Blaine said with a sigh. "But I'm not sure I know them enough, Kurt, and this exam is fifty percent of my grade, and look even right now I can't remember what the real name of the Moonlight Sonata is."
"Blaine." Kurt said sternly, and Blaine sighed and slumped back, dislodging Kurt but meeting his eyes with his large, resigned own.
"Number fourteen." He said, and Kurt smiled and gave him a peck on the lips.
"See? You're just psyching yourself out. You'll do much better if you're well rested. And clean." Kurt said, eying the ink smudges on Blaine's browbone and down the side of his cheek.
"Are you saying I need a shower?" Blaine said, pouting, and Kurt smiled and gave him another kiss.
"You need to look in a mirror. You have ink everywhere." Kurt said, kissing one of the marks.
"Let me study until two, at least." Blaine whined, closing his eyes as Kurt stroked his hair gently.
"Darling, it's almost three." Kurt said, and Blaine's eyes popped open in disbelief. Kurt snickered and reached over, shutting Blaine's textbook around his notes and notecards.
"Come on, into the shower with you. Kurt said, sliding off the arm of the chair and standing up.
"You should come with me." Blaine protested, fluttering those lethally long eyelashes at Kurt, who for his credit just shook his head.
"I don't think so. Just look at you, you're about to fall asleep right here." Kurt said, reaching back over and cupping Blaine's face in his hand.
"But I'm stressed out, and you should make me more relaxed." Blaine persuaded. Kurt shook his head.
"A long shower and sleep will relax you just enough, and then tomorrow after your final we can celebrate the start of our winter vacation."
"Properly?" Blaine asked, his face quirked up in a way that made sure Kurt remembered that they had spent both paper week and finals week without having sex, and it had been two torturously long weeks at that.
"Properly, I promise." Kurt said, stroking Blaine's cheek with his thumb. Blaine turned his face, kissing Kurt's thumb.
"I've almost made it through my first college finals week." He said with a small smile.
"Almost. Let's make sure you don't fall asleep in your last final." Kurt said, taking both of Blaine's hands in his own and lifting him off the sofa until he was standing in front of him. Kurt grinned, leaning in for a quick kiss. "Come on, I'll have the bed warm when you get out.
After a second kiss Blaine hopped off into the bathroom with a hum, leaving Kurt in the living room.
Their living room.
Sure, tomorrow they would be celebrating the end of the fall semester, but it was also their first semester living together.
Four months later, and Kurt still got little thrills when he looked at Blaine's shoes piled by the front door (so he'd never have to look for them when he was running late), their bags and keys hanging from twin hooks by the door, or their summery yellow and green color scheme that brightened up their little apartment while incorporating both of their favorite colors.
This hadn't been the plan, of course. Kurt had insisted that Blaine spend his first year in a dorm, especially since the NYU dorms were in such nice locations. But Blaine had balked at the dorm policies, and Kurt had decided he couldn't deal with another year of living with Rachel and her late-night vocalizing, so they'd taken a train up and found this little place. And if Blaine's parents knew he and Kurt were living together, well, they certainly didn't acknowledge it.
As much as Kurt had panicked at first about all the things that could go wrong with cohabitation, he couldn't deny that he and Blaine just worked. Blaine shopped, Kurt cooked. Kurt did laundry, Blaine cleaned the apartment. They were able to study together and still get everything done, even if one of them gave up and started dancing around the room (which really was Kurt as much as it was Blaine, if everyone were being honest). They didn't even try to kill each other over early alarms; though they usually required multiple because they kept pulling each other back into bed.
Sure, Blaine sometimes left open sauce jars in the pantry and Kurt had a habit of wanting to watch Gone With the Wind on his laptop in bed on nights Blaine had to get up early, but the spoiled garlic cream sauce was almost starting to be endearing rather than incredibly aggravating.
Well, as long as Kurt found it before it started to stink.
Instead of the potential problems with cohabitation, they'd found the best parts. They'd discovered the joy of blowing off all their friends for a weekend in bed without getting dressed (which Kurt limited to once a month, because he really did want Blaine to make his own friends here). They'd figure out how nice it was to share a meal after a long day of school. They'd also explored the possibility of the ability to have sex wherever they wanted in the entire apartment and not have to feel guilty about desecrating a shared space.
Oh, and Kurt thought as he turned the corner into the bedroom, there was also the part where they got to sleep curled up together every single night.
Since he was already in the mood for bragging about how well he and Blaine did together, he might as well appreciate their bedroom. It carried the same yellow and green scheme of their entire apartment, but it also carried familiar things all grouped together. Kurt's fashion books right next to Blaine's history tomes. Blaine's robots right next to Kurt's stuffed animals. In the closet their clothes were hung up together, so close the ones in the middle even smelled the same.
And then there was their lovely, wonderful bed. Okay, so, it was actually just a full-sized bed that was way too little when it was hot outside, and cramped against a wall just so they could have walking space to the closet and bookshelves (Kurt had even sacrificed his vanity). But he really couldn't fault it since he got to lay Blaine out on it as frequently as they wished, explore him and make up for their lost time the year before.
Kurt walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back and smiling. Hopefully, Manhattan in the snow would never cease to take his breath away. Hopefully, Blaine wouldn't, either.
Kurt stripped and put his clothes in the hamper before climbing into bed, his body sliding between the chill white sheets until he came to rest right in the middle, letting his body heat warm the bed as he listened to the flow of the shower.
It cut off soon, and a moment later Blaine came into the room, one fluffy green towel around his waist and a smaller yellow one around his head.
"Look outside." Kurt murmured as Blaine rumpled the towel through his curls, squeezing out the water. He pawed the curtain to the side and beamed, turning to Kurt with excitement all over his face.
"Kurt, it's snowing!" He said, turning back to the window. "I guess it's too late to go play in it, but…"
"Blaine Oliver Anderson, don't you dare open that window." Kurt said sternly, earning him a sheepish look as Blaine put his towels in the hamper and closed the curtain. "We'll play in it tomorrow."
"I thought you were going to fuck me tomorrow?" Blaine asked over a yawn, wincing at his own crass language. "Sorry. Tired. Filter."
"Come on, get over here." Kurt said, reaching toward him even as his very naked boyfriend turned out the lamp and climbed over him into bed, settling into his favorite space against the wall. Kurt gave a contented little whimper as Blaine cuddled up into him, his body heat almost overpowering the little bed. "I'll fuck you after we play in the snow."
"Good." Blaine said with another yawn.
"I'll even have hot cocoa waiting for you if you text me when you're done with your exam." Kurt said, stroking over Blaine's wet curls.
"Hot chocolate, snowy New York and sex. Tomorrow's going to be the best." Blaine murmured, and Kurt hummed.
"Goodnight, darling." Kurt said, giving him a peck.
"Goodnight, Kurt." Blaine said over another yawn.
Kurt allowed himself to start to sink to sleep, steadied by Blaine and their apartment and this life he never could have imagined four years ago.
"Kurt?" Blaine asked, voice hesitant. Kurt merely hummed in acknowledgment. "What happens if I don't pass classical composers?"
Humor brought Kurt back from sleep, and, snorting, he pulled Blaine a little tighter.
"You're not going to fail, Blaine."
"But what if I do?" He asked, his voice small and worried.
"Shh." Kurt said, and sang him to sleep.
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
"We're married."
"Fully and completely. And definitely consummated." Kurt agreed, squirming when Blaine nipped somewhere in the vicinity of his hip, next to one of the hickies he may have left there earlier in the evening. "I'm sorry, you're the one who said you were going to consummate me back."
"Did I? Must have been the champagne from the plane." Blaine said, grinning and rolling over, his curls (washed out before they got on the plane, because there was no way Blaine was going to deal with his hair melting out for seven hours) tickling over Kurt's naval and his shoulders resting on Kurt's hips.
It had probably been ridiculous to get on a plane after just an hour at the reception, but Kurt loved it. He'd made friends with one of his dad's young colleagues in Congress, and she'd let them use her family's private jet. So they'd handed control of the reception over to Rachel (explaining to Finn that he didn't want the responsibility, anyway) and left everyone to enjoy their weekends in New York City and the open bar.
The proxy hostess had already made their way through a sizeable amount of it by the time Kurt and Blaine left, and since one of the best men was definitely spoken for with a wife in attendance and father of the flower girl, she'd gone for the one she didn't have a history with.
Kurt was pretty proud of her. He may even have sent her an encouraging text. What could he say? Cooper was hot.
So he and Blaine had jumped aboard the private jet with every other cabin window painted pink, and specific instructions to wait until they arrived in Paris to celebrate their wedding night or risk not getting to use the jet for their way back.
They spent the long flight cuddled together, whispering sweet things and discussing what was going on at the impending catastrophe they'd left behind. Three hours letter he'd received a text from Rachel that merely read "SUCCESS," making Kurt howl and Blaine bury his head in Kurt's lapel and groan. They had vowed not to let each other sleep on the plane, because it would be ridiculously lame and anticlimactic to sleep before their wedding night,
They'd arrived in the early Paris morning, when it was still not quite midnight back home. Kurt had wasted no time in reminding Blaine with a whisper in his ear that this meant they got an entire daylong wedding night. Like lightning they were checked into their hotel, and in the honeymoon suite, making sure they were very, very much married.
Kurt stroked a hand through Blaine's hair, teasing the ends gently while his other hand slid onto Blaine's shoulder. The glint of his wedding band caught some of the sunlight pouring through the open window (hey, it was Paris), and Kurt held it up with a small smile. It wasn't that different than the engagement ring he had been wearing for the past two years, really. A little heavier, maybe, and rose gold instead of silver. Simpler than the old one, since in the engagement rings they had tried to capture each other, but with the wedding bands they had decided to match. The design hadn't come with diamonds, but they'd opted to have them added, peeking out over the bands.
"Not having second thoughts on me, are you?" Blaine asked, tilting his head up, his hair tickling across Kurt's belly. Kurt snorted, stroking through it again.
"The opposite, really. No, you, Sir, are stuck with me." Kurt said, clasping the sides of his brand new husband's face. Blaine, for his part, got the message and rolled, over, sliding back up the bed and into Kurt's arms, kissing him gently, lingering.
"Good."
"Good?" Kurt scoffed, pushing him gently even as Blaine laid down smack on top of him, not bothering to prop himself up at all. "Blaine Hummel-Anderson, are you saying you feel stuck with me?"
"That's what these are, aren't they?" Blaine said, reaching across with his own left hand for Kurt's, clinking their shiny new bands together. "And the Hummel-Anderson part. And that ceremony we went through earlier. We're officially permanent."
"We're officially permanent." Kurt echoed, stroking through Blaine's hair. "Married."
"Married." Blaine agreed, kissing him again before settling down into the crook of Kurt's neck. Kurt couldn't help but acknowledge how thankful he was that Blaine never did grow any more.
"We should sleep, we have dinner reservations in nine hours." Kurt said, yawning a bit and stroking Blaine's back.
"You should sing to me."
"No."
"We can sing it together." Blaine said, far too eagerly.
"Blaine." Kurt said, laughing and squirming just the smallest bit under him.
"I'll start!" Blaine said, laughing around the first line, nudging Kurt with his nose until he gave in and sang the second, laughing as well. They continued on like that through the rest of the song, singing back and forth to each other until their laughs wore into the soft, gentle smiles they gave each other before kissing goodnight and falling asleep as husbands.
While the weary world is sleeping
"Your turn." Blaine muttered, shaking Kurt awake. As he spoke, Kurt realized the loud cries of his dream banshee were actually coming over the baby monitor.
"You wake, you take." Kurt muttered back, planting his face firmly in the cool fabric of his pillow.
"That's not fair, you're a heavier sleeper and I have to get up for work in the morning." Blaine muttered, almost drowned out by a loud rumble of thunder.
"Blaine, one of us needs to hurry up, because if this is a storm, then…"
"Daddy, Dad!" Came the shrill cry of three-year-old Elliot, accompanied by the scampering of his feet, muffled only slightly by his footie pajamas. Kurt groaned and shot a death glare in the direction of Blaine, who was hopping out of bed.
"Elliot, go back to bed." Blaine warned sternly, leaning over and pressing a kiss on Kurt's head before walking over toward the door.
"But Dad, there's a stowm!" Elliot said, latching on to Blaine's leg. Blaine sighed, pushing his curls out of his face and turning to Kurt with a resigned look.
"Come here, El." Kurt said, beckoning to his son. Elliot detached from Blaine and ran to Kurt, allowing Blaine to go on to the nursery. Kurt picked Elliot up off the ground and into his lap, the hair on his head soft against Kurt's bare chest. "Elliot, we've told you, the storm can't get you inside."
"But what if thewe's a toh-nado like in Dowothy?" Elliot asked, his tiny fingers clutching at Kurt's skin.
"Then we'll pick you up and take you down to the basement and never let anything hurt you." Kurt said, smiling with relief as he heard Blaine's voice over the baby monitor and the crying subsided a little bit. A few seconds later, Blaine reemerged in the room, a slightly fussy black-haired baby against his own chest.
"She's doing that thing again." Blaine muttered, walking around to his side of the bed and climbing in. "Not hungry, didn't need changed, I don't even think it was the storm. She just wanted attention."
"Who does that sound like?" Kurt said with a small smile, rocking Elliot back and forth on his lap.
"If Lizzie gets to sleep in here, I should get to, too!" Elliot pouted. Blaine shook his head.
"You're a big boy, Elliot. Lizzie's just a baby. Courage."
"And as soon as Lizzie's back to sleep, she's going back to her own bed." Kurt said, but was interrupted by a loud crack of thunder that made Elliot jump and scream and Lizzie start to cry again. Kurt sighed, stroking Elliot's hair. "Nothing's going to get you, El."
"But it's scawy! Why is she so loud?" Elliot said, poking his face out from where he was hiding in Kurt's chest to give his little sister a disapproving look.
"Because your dad makes loud babies. You were never this loud." Kurt said, stroking Elliot's back and smirking at Blaine.
"Hey! There's no reason to blame me for this." He said, cooing softly to try to get Lizzie to stop.
"Here, trade." Kurt said, taking Lizzie from Blaine while his husband scooped Elliot off Kurt's lap and into his own, raising him up in the air as he did.
"Hey, Scout." Blaine said, hugging Elliot tightly. Kurt looked up from where he had begun to babble at their little daughter to smile at the sight.
"Isn't she supposed to be fun? I think she's broken. Maybe you should take her back." Elliot said when Lizzie continued to cry, earning a stern look from both of his fathers.
"Elliot James Hummel-Anderson, Elizabeth is your little sister." Kurt scolded. "You love her no matter how loud she is, just the same as we still love Dad even if he does make loud babies." Kurt said, going back to rocking Lizzie gently.
"He's being ridiculous. I don't make loud babies." Blaine said, shooting Kurt a look. Kurt merely smirked again.
"But it's okay, because Lizzie's perfect, even if she is loud and a bit of an attention hog. She has your dad's big hazel eyes and black hair, and it's already beginning to curl."
"She's going to hate me for that." Blaine muttered, making Elliot giggle. "She's going to be so jealous that she didn't get to have your daddy's soft hair like you, El." Elliot giggled again, but it was cut off as he jumped at a bright bolt of lightning.
Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances and both sighed.
"I'm going to go get the bassinet." Kurt said, standing up with Lizzie in his arms, who was quieter but still very much awake.
"You can stay, but you have to be good." Blaine told Elliot, who clapped his hands excitedly. Kurt smiled and walked to the nursery, setting Lizzie down and starting to wheel her back to the bedroom before she could start to cry again.
Back in the bedroom, Kurt wheeled Lizzie up to the side of the bed and then slid in next to his husband and their son, who was sitting in the middle of the bed.
"Is that where you're going to sleep?" He asked, and Elliot nodded emphatically. "Come on then, lay down." He said, and he and Blaine immediately leaned toward each other around him, holding hands and tangling their feet. They may have to wear pajama pants to bed now, but with their little family all curled up here together, it was a sacrifice Kurt willingly gave.
"Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Dad. Goodnight, Lizzie." Elliot chanted, and Kurt smiled.
"Goodnight, Elliot." He and Blaine said simultaneously. Elliot smiled, too, but let out a small whimper at a large crack and loud roll of thunder.
"You know, you should ask Daddy to sing you a lullaby. That always helps in a storm." Blaine whispered, and Kurt frowned at him over Elliot's head.
"Please, Daddy?" Elliot said, looking up hopefully.
"Dad already sang you to sleep tonight." Kurt reminded him.
"But I'm awake again." Elliot reasoned.
"And you sing better lullabies than I do." Blaine joined in, pouting from behind Elliot. Kurt sighed, pinching Blaine's hand for good measure.
"Fine. But only once, and no asking me to sing it again." He said, and softly began to sing.
Angels present e'er round thee
"I can't do this."
Kurt fixed his son with a stern glare. "Elliot Hummel-Anderson, that is your father in there." Elliot groaned and put his face on his wife Amy's shoulder.
"I know that, Daddy." He said, sounding six instead of sixty. "That's why I can't… I just can't…"
"Daddy, we think this is your place." Lizzie said from where she was sitting with her wife Mona. "We talked about it. Of course we'll go in and say goodbye, but you two should be alone." Her face wavered a little bit, and Kurt sighed.
"Okay."
"I'm going to go get some coffee. Mona, would you like to come and help me carry it?" Amy said, and Mona agreed. The two left, leaving the three Hummel-Andersons outside the hospital room.
"I'm not ready for this." Elliot said, fidgeting with his collar. "I can't be ready for this."
"Hey, hey." Kurt said, sitting down between the two and pulling Elliot's head against his chest. "Blaine and I are almost 90 years old. You're really lucky we've managed to make it this far."
"But now we're not, are we?" Lizzie said, resting her head against her father's other shoulder. "We're still going to have to lose Dad."
"How are you going to manage, Daddy?" Elliot asked. Kurt sighed, wrapping his arms around both of his children.
"The same way as when I lost my mom and when we lost Grandpa Hummel, I suppose." Kurt murmured. "Though it's… it's going to be really hard. I haven't gone a day without knowing he was there since I was 16 years old." He said wistfully, trying not to choke up. "But hopefully he'll still be there for me."
"Daddy, I thought you were an atheist?" Lizzie said, and Elliot kicked her. Kurt chuckled and stroked both of their hair.
"Sometimes I feel like none of us have aged at all." Kurt murmured. "No, I am. I still don't believe in God. But I believe in relationships. I believe in Lizzie and Elliot and Mom and Dad and Finn and Carole and Rachel and most of all Blaine. And even though you two and all your kids and grandkids, Blaine and Rachel are all I really have left, I think the rest are still there. I know Mom is."
"How?" Lizzie asked, and Kurt smiled.
"She told me she would be, when she'd sing me to sleep. She explained it like guardian angels, but I think it's simpler than that. We don't stop watching over each other just because we leave, you know?"
"I hope not." Elliot murmured. "I know I'm a grandpa, but I'm really not ready to lose my dad."
"Come on. He's been in there alone for too long already. If he knew we were all out here worried, he'd scold us." Kurt said.
"Courage." Lizzie murmured, and Kurt couldn't help but smile at how the gleam in her eye was so much like Blaine's.
"Courage." Elliot agreed, and the two took Kurt's hands and walked through the door.
It really didn't look any different than it had the past two weeks, Kurt thought, but the sight of Blaine in that hospital bed still made his mouth run dry with a sickening lurch. Blaine had tried anything to get out of there, he knew Kurt hated hospitals, but his failing kidneys had just been too much. He had to stay. And now all these doctors thought it wouldn't be long. Blaine opened his eyes and smiled as Kurt rushed, or as much as he could rush on his slow moving legs these days, over to the bedside.
"For a second there I thought you weren't going to come say goodbye." Blaine said, opening his hand. Kurt instinctively put his own in Blaine's as he sat down beside the bed.
"I'm not, because I promised I never would. But you have to hold up your side of that bargain, too." He said, and Blaine smiled.
"Dad," Lizzie said, walking up to the other side of the bed and taking his hand. Elliot looked on over her shoulder. "Sorry the kids couldn't come. Jamie's case is still in court, and Megan couldn't get a flight."
"And Whitney thinks Avery is too small to go on a plane yet." Elliot added. Blaine shook his head.
"It's okay. None of them need to see me like this, anyway." He said, his pleasantness cutting through Kurt like a knife. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the sound of his children telling their father how much they loved him, and him giving little messages for the many members of their family. All too soon, with a squeeze on his shoulder from Elliot, they had left the room and he was alone with Blaine.
"They wanted us to be alone." Kurt murmured, shaking his head.
"Daddy time again after all these years?" Blaine joked, hitting Kurt so suddenly that he choked on a sob. "Kurt, please don't cry." Blaine said gently, and Kurt opened his water-filled eyes and looked up at his husband. Wrinkles and spots obscured his face, but all Kurt could see was the bright, earnest look he'd had since he was a fifteen-year-old telling him that everything would be okay, even though it wouldn't.
"I'm so afraid for you to leave me." Kurt murmured, looking up into Blaine's slightly glazed, but still hazel, eyes. "You came into my life right when I needed you the most, but I'm still not ready for you to be gone."
"I'm afraid to leave you, too." He said, sliding his other arm over for Kurt to take as well. "But we've made a great run of it, haven't we?"
"Seventy-two years, all counting. Married for sixty-three. Together for seventy-one." He said, shooting Blaine a stern look. Blaine laughed, his stomach jolting up with the laughter, his eyes shining. Kurt was almost able to ignore the rasp that came with it.
"You'd think, considering all the years we've had since, you'd be able to forgive me for the matter of months it took me to figure things out." Blaine said, but Kurt shook his head.
"No, because I'd do anything to have more months with you now, Blaine." He said, and Blaine's eyes were starting to water, too. "It's really not fair you're going first, I'm older."
"It's because I wouldn't be strong enough to be without you." Blaine said, and Kurt's heart literally felt like it was being clawed at. "The kids wouldn't be able to handle it if both of us went at the same time, and you're the one strong enough to hold on for them."
"I think they know I won't manage for long." Kurt whispered, and Blaine shook his head the tiniest bit.
"You have to try, Kurt. For me." Blaine said, and Kurt picked up his hand and kissed it, stroking over the familiar soft and wrinkled skin.
"We've had such a life, Blaine." He murmured, the tears coming back to him. Blaine smiled.
"The wedding you spent two entire years planning."
"The honeymoon in Paris."
"Two beautiful children."
"Three lovely grandchildren."
"Already five great-grandchildren and a sixth on the way."
"Every single time we've been together."
"That time you pulled me up on the runway and kissed me at your first solo fashion week show."
"That time we mortified Lizzie when she came home from her first date and we were making out on the couch."
"The day you asked me to be your husband, and I finally knew we'd be together for the rest of our lives."
"The morning we brought Elliot home from the hospital and you wouldn't go to bed for two hours even though we'd been up all night because you were too busy watching him sleep."
"When you did the same thing when Lizzie was born even though we had a bouncing three-year-old in the house."
"When we danced at our children and grandchildren's weddings. Oh, Blaine, I'm not ready for it to be over." Kurt said, and Blaine cooed him gently, clutching his hands.
"It's not, not really. Hopefully." Blaine said, clutching tightly at his hands. "But I'm pretty proud you can remember all of that even though you probably can't remember what time you got here today."
"Don't you dare make fun of my memory, you're the one in the hospital bed." Kurt said, eyes twinkling stood up slowly, leaned over the bed and gave Blaine a soft, gentle kiss.
"I love you so much, Blaine." Kurt whispered, kissing him again. "Thank you so much for making my life absolutely, wonderfully perfect."
"I love you, too. So very, very much, Kurt. And you've made mine perfect, too." He said.
Suddenly, there was a look in Blaine's eyes that terrified Kurt. It was the same look he'd had years and years ago, when the airline announced the last call for Kurt's flight to New York. The shock, bit of fright and steeliness about made Kurt lose it, but he tried to be brave for Blaine.
"Sing me to sleep one last time?" Blaine whispered, and Kurt's entire body contracted in horror, his eyes shut against it.
"Blaine."
"Kurt, please."
"Blaine."
"I love you, Kurt." Blaine said, holding tightly to Kurt's hand and forcing him to open his eyes and look into Blaine's.
"I love you, Blaine." Kurt whispered to him, tears falling down his face in sheets, harder than he'd cried in years. Slowly, fighting through the worst sort of choking he could imagine, he sang:
Sleep my love and peace attend thee,
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night;
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night.
Angels watching, e'er around thee,
All through the night
Midnight slumber close surround thee,
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night
While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping,
All through the night
O'er thy spirit gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling,
All through the night.