In the Dark

by the.eye.does.not.SEE

Sawyer blows Jane and Kurt's cover. Post-1x10.

Title: In the Dark (1/1)

Universe: Blindspot, season 1, a few months after 1x10

Rating: PG

Pairing: Jane Doe/Kurt Weller

Summary: Sawyer blows Jane and Kurt's cover.

A/N: redfoxrandoms asked (a few weeks ago, oops) to see some more embarrassing moments between Jane, Kurt, and Sawyer. This may not be exactly what you were thinking of—it probably isn't at all; I'm sorry—but it's what I got…

A/N #2: C'mon. Who doesn't like a good ol' J&K sneak-around?

A/N #3: Why do these fics always end up so long? This was just supposed to be a fluffy five pages or so… Sorry in advance, guys. The family!Kurt gods must be appeased.

x x x

It's late when she wakes. Or at least she assumes it is. The room is pitch-dark around her, with the shades drawn against the world, and not a single light—not a clock or a phone—illuminates the darkness. She doesn't mind. She feels at home here, in the dark, even if this place she's staying in isn't technically her home.

She tries to be as quiet as possible as she sits up in bed, and then rises to her feet, but the wood creaks beneath her at the shift in weight, and she freezes as she stands, hoping—

"Hey."

His voice is low, sleepy, and immediately interrupted by a yawn as he wakes and turns towards her. Or at least she thinks he does. It is so damn dark in his room.

It had surprised her, the first night she spent here. She had never imagined that there might be another person on the planet that wanted to shut out the world as much as she did. But she's grateful that it's him, grateful that they can share this dark space together, instead of alone and apart.

"Where you going, Jane?" Kurt mumbles from bed, and she finds she can see him easier now, if she focuses. He's propped himself up on an elbow, and is currently attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Just water," she answers, her voice coming out scratchy.

"Mm." He makes a low, unintelligible sound in the back of his throat at that, and she smiles, unable to tell if it's an acknowledgement of her words or a protest of them. From experience, she guesses that it's probably the latter. She smiles to herself, thinking of the way he will pull her close when she comes back, drawing her body against his to make up for the minutes of lost time.

"Don't worry," she tells him as she navigates the darkness of his bedroom by memory, and heads to the door. "I'll be right back."

After stepping out into the hallway, she shuts the door softly and proceeds forward as silently as she can manage, both for his sake and his family's. She feels bad about waking him up, but waking up Sawyer or Sarah would be much worse, especially considering they have no idea that she's been sleeping in their home on and off for the past two months.

She can still remember the first night she spent here, the first time she had to get up in the middle of the night and leave the sanctuary of Kurt's bedroom and step out into the unknown. She'd been so scared of getting caught. So scared that in the two minutes she would take to use the bathroom, Sarah would see her or hear her. And what would she say to explain herself, to explain to this woman why she is prowling around her home at night?

Kurt would've taken the fall for it, she knows. Of course he would. He would say that he had invited her over, that he had purposefully waited until Sarah went to bed to let her up into the apartment, that he's the one who wakes her up early so she can slip out before Sarah gets up in the morning. And Sarah would probably believe it all. She'd blame her brother.

Jane hates the idea of being yet another reason why Kurt has a bad relationship with one of his family members. He may have cut ties with his father years ago, but Sarah is still very much a part of his life. A part of his home.

She should know I'm here, Jane thinks to herself. Tries to convince herself. She deserves to know.

But she can't bring herself to actually say the words aloud—not to Kurt, and certainly not to Sarah. Jane wonders, as she often does in the middle of the night, when she'll ever be okay with letting this part of her life out into the open. Letting the world see, letting her coworkers see, letting Kurt's family see. The idea still makes her hands shake a little when she thinks about it. As much as she cares for him, the idea of showing that to the world frightens her. She already lost her life once before; what is she supposed to do if she loses him? She can't start from nothing again.

Caught up in her thoughts, Jane hardly hears the quiet feet enter the kitchen, and it isn't until she turns off the faucet and starts to lift the glass to her lips that the little voice that accompanies the feet speaks from behind her.

"Who are you?"

The glass falls from her hands before she can even register what's happening, or who's speaking, and she's turning around just as fast. She only catches a glimpse of Sawyer's blond curls across the room before the night breaks apart with a horribly loud crash, the glass falling to the ground faster than she can even take a breath. It misses her bare feet by inches as it smashes into the hardwood floor, and she freezes at once, waiting—

Surely Sarah heard that. Surely she'll come running.

Jane can't stop staring at the little boy across the room, who is seeing her, watching her, be in his home where she shouldn't be. Heart pounding, she stares at him in silence, her body locked involuntarily in place, thinking that this must be what a panic attack feels like. She waits for him to call out for his mother, his uncle, to yell that there's an intruder in their house breaking things—

"Hey, I know you," the boy whispers finally, tilting his head to the side to peer up at her as he takes a couple steps closer. "You're the lady who was kissing my uncle Kurt."

Jane can't exactly argue with that. "Um—yes. That's me."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm—Um—" Her mind races, trying to come up with any excuse that this child might believe. Why is she here? She can't think of an explanation for an adult, let alone a nine-year-old boy—

"Jane? You okay? I heard glass—"

Kurt's voice sounds from behind her, and she breathes a sigh of relief, as she turns to him as he steps into the kitchen. Rarely has she ever been so grateful to see him in her entire life.

He catches sight of her before he does Sawyer, his eyes quickly looking her up and down, letting out a low, "Oh, Jane," as his eyes fall to her feet.

She frowns to herself, looking down, and it's only then that she sees the blood. And feels the pain.

"Ow," she whispers, biting her lip as she shifts her weight from her bloodied foot to her intact one. "Shoot," she mutters, reaching down to start pulling the glass fragments out. They're burning now, and seem to be burrowing into her flesh. She can see a big one, about an inch long, and she wants it out—

"Don't," Kurt instructs at once, appearing by her side, reaching out to steady her, to move her away from the spreading pool of watery blood. "Don't use your hands. I'll get tweezers. Just stay sti—"

"Hey, her blood's red too."

Kurt jumps at the sound of his nephew's voice, whirling around. He catches sight of him across the room in a second. "Jesus, Sawyer! Where'd you come from? What the—why are you awake? It's after midnight—"

But the boy's too fixated on the shattered glass and shattered foot in front of him to pay attention to whatever his uncle's saying. Jane watches him as he nears, watches his eyes travel from the shards of glass on the floor, to the blood dripping from her foot, up her bare legs, to her face.

Jane can't help but smile a little when his eyes finally meet hers. "What color did you think my blood would be?"

"Black," the boy replies at once, not shying away from her eyes.

Jane swallows, her throat suddenly thick. She tries to think of something to say to that, anything… She can feel the boy's eyes roaming over the dark ink on her arms, her legs, her feet, her hands, her neck… All over her…

Kurt's voice saves her again.

"Everybody's blood is red, Sawyer. You know that. Doesn't matter what they look like on the outside. Everyone bleeds the same color at the end of the day."

Jane shoots him a grateful look, and he spares her a quick half-smile before grabbing a roll of paper towels from beside the sink. He tears off a few and hands them to her so she can attempt to staunch the flow from the cuts on her feet, before he bends down to start cleaning up the mess of blood and water and glass on the floor. Once most of the debris is in the trash, he straightens up, and motions Sawyer to his side as he heads toward the far side of the apartment.

"Come on, bud. Help me find some first aid stuff from the bathroom, okay?"

Jane waits until they're both down the hall to let out the breath she'd been holding. She's glad Kurt thought to take Sawyer away for a moment. She needs time to think, needs time to be by herself. Needs time to plan an excuse if he should ask again.

Hobbling over to one of the barstools by the counter, Jane wonders how long they can continue like this. Sure, Sawyer managed to keep their kiss a secret from his mother for the past couple months, but Jane's sure that's only because she hasn't been around since. If Sawyer hadn't mentioned it earlier, in fact, Jane might've thought the boy had even forgotten about it.

But tonight was an important lesson, she thinks. They can't hide forever. Either the truth about them will slip out from Sawyer, or next time Jane comes into the kitchen at night for water, Sarah will be here. And as much as it scares her, the thought of telling people about them, she knows instinctively that it will be better in the long run. Better they find out from her and Kurt now than stumble across it later and wonder, and ask questions. And pry.

When he comes back into the kitchen, Kurt turns on the overhead light, dousing them all in a brightness so acute that they all have to stand there a moment, dazed, as their eyes adjust.

"Sorry," Kurt mutters, blinking away the afterimages, before he makes his way to the counter where Jane's sitting. He sets down his arsenal—a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a roll of toilet paper, a hand towel, a box of Band-Aids, a tube of antibiotic ointment, and a pair of tweezers—before taking a seat on the stool next to hers.

"Okay," he waves her forward. "Gimme your foot."

"Kurt, I can take care of—"

"Foot, Jane."

Knowing it's not worth it, she doesn't bother arguing. With a quiet sigh, she lifts her foot from the lowest rung on her chair and places it carefully in his lap, bracing her heel against his bare knee. She waits for him to start, but he turns around first, waving behind him.

"Sawyer, c'mere."

From behind his uncle's chair, the boy creeps forward, eyes wide, peering at the injury in front of him. Jane smiles a little bit at his blatant fascination. Only kids can look into the face of blood like this and be captivated instead of repulsed.

"You remember when you skinned your knee last month at the playground? And it got all that gravel in it?"

Eyes still on Jane's foot, Sawyer nods.

"Your mom cleaned the wound. You remember what she did first?"

Sawyer frowns, eyeing the items on the counter. He tips in chin towards the bottle of alcohol. "She poured that on it. It hurt."

Kurt smiles a little. "Yeah, pure alcohol will do that." He uncaps the bottle and douses a half-section of a paper towel in the sharp-smelling liquid. "You have a cut like this, you want to clean it first, okay? And you clean anything you're using to touch the wound—the tweezers, your hands, anything else." He catches Jane's eye with a quick smile. "I washed my hands in the bathroom, promise."

"I trust you."

"This'll sting," he adds, just before he starts wiping her foot with the paper towel.

And even though she'd known it was coming, even though she's felt the sting of alcohol disinfectant before, she can't help the hiss that escapes her as she sucks in her breath involuntarily.

"Sorry," Kurt murmurs, but he doesn't look up. He keeps his eyes on her foot as he cleans it, brushing the paper towel along every cut he can reach, and around the few shards of glass still embedded in her foot. With every swath of red he wipes away, her pale skin is revealed, decorated in wavy inky-black lines, yet another design that they don't know the purpose of. She can't help but think she prefers the coating of red.

Taking the tweezers next, he sets aside the towel and grasps the back of her ankle gently to hold it in place. He meets her eye. "Try not to flinch, okay?"

"I'll try," Jane replies grimly.

Kurt smiles at her dubious tone, and when he rubs the back of her ankle gently in reassurance, she can't help but smile back. She feels a sudden urge to bend forward and kiss him, and she almost starts to, before she remembers Sawyer's with them, standing just a foot away, watching everything.

Jane nods to her foot, clearing her throat quietly. "Go ahead," she tells Kurt.

The process takes longer than strictly necessary, and Jane isn't sure whether Kurt's being overly thorough for her, or for Sawyer, who explains each step to. Kurt always gets anxious and overprotective when she gets hurt, but surely he knows that this injury isn't that big of a deal. Even the largest glass shard didn't cut too deeply, and when she stood up after he was finished debriding the wound and wrapping it up, it wasn't even that painful to walk on. But he still watched her like she might break a limb at any moment. When she said she had to go to the bathroom, he nearly started walking her there until she reminded him that she's perfectly capable of finding it on her own.

He stepped away, a little chagrined, and she'd squeezed his hand quickly, to let him know she didn't mind all that much. It's nice to have someone care for her. Someone to clean her cuts and hold her hand and worry after her. She doesn't know what to call it, what he is to her, but she likes it. She's liking it more and more every day.

She's just coming out of the bathroom, and heading back towards the kitchen, when she hears the voices—Kurt and Sawyer—talking. She doesn't know why, but she immediately stops walking, and steps against the wall, out of sight, to listen. She and Kurt don't talk often about what they are, or what they're doing together—mostly because she's made a point of not wanting or knowing how to discuss either yet—and she finds she's intrigued to hear what he will say when he thinks she isn't there to listen. Will he have straightforward answers for the boy? Or will he waffle between explanations, like Jane knows she would?

"...But it's kind of a secret, all right?" Kurt is saying when starts paying attention. "So let's not talk to your mom about this tomorrow, okay?"

"Why not?"

Kurt sighs a moment, and Jane waits, wondering what he will say. Then: "Because I'm worried she'll be mad at me."

"Mad? Why?"

"Because I haven't told her that Jane's been staying over here some nights. I haven't checked with your mom yet if that's all right."

"But mom always says this is your house and we have to respect that. She says that you make the rules."

Jane can actually hear Kurt smile when he replies, "Well, that's kind of her. But I think this is your guys' house, too, at this point."

"And hers, too? Jane's?"

Jane expects to hear Kurt smile again, to hear him laugh, but he's quiet when he replies, "Um, no, not yet." She wonders if she's imagining the hopefulness in his voice. Wonders if he can hear her heart from all these feet away.

Sawyer's quiet for a second as he digests this. "So then… What's she doing here?"

"She, uh… She just needed a place to stay for the night."

"Why?"

"Because, bud. She just did."

They fall silent then, and after a couple seconds, Jane realizes that that's probably all she's going to get out of them. It's enough. She steps away from the wall, makes her way to the end of the hallway, and has just taken a few steps into the kitchen and caught Kurt's eye, when Sawyer speaks again.

"Are you having sex? Is that why she's here?"

"Hey!" Kurt protests at once, his eyes flying from Jane's to Sawyer's in shock. In the light from the kitchen, Jane can see his cheeks turn pink as he crouches down before the boy, putting them eye to eye. "Bud, that is…" He has to make a conscious effort to quiet his voice, to calm himself down. "That is not something you ask adults, okay? You understand? That's not a polite thing to say."

The boy looks at the floor, nods his head. "Sorry."

"It's okay. C'mon," Kurt reaches out for the boy's hand, "I'll take you back to bed, okay?"

But Sawyer draws away, shaking his head. "I don't want to go to bed."

"Why not?" Kurt's voice is quiet for a moment, almost teasing—what nine-year-old wants to go to bed, anyway?—but when Sawyer doesn't immediately answer, Kurt squeezes his shoulder gently. "Sawyer? Hey, look at me. What's going on? Why don't you want to go to bed?"

The boy doesn't look up. "Had a nightmare," he mumbles to the floor.

"Oh, Sawyer… Why didn't you say anything before? Why didn't you go to your mom?"

The boy shrugs, avoiding the question.

"Well—" Kurt looks around for a moment, bewildered and blindsided by this turn of events.

Jane can see the worry in his eyes, the tautness in his jaw, and she knows he's scared not because Sawyer isn't sleeping but because he seems to know already that this isn't something he can fix. He doesn't often come across problems that he can't find a solution to, and she knows how it puts him on edge when he does.

Clearing her throat a little, Jane walks over to Sawyer's side and crouches down next to Kurt to be eye-level with the boy. The moment she comes into view, Sawyer turns to her, and Jane can feel his eyes roaming, taking in all the ink on her body. She does her best not to care, does her best to smile.

He's a child, she reminds herself. Children stare. They're allowed to stare.

"You know what I do when I have nightmares?" she asks, clearing her throat a little to catch his attention. Blessedly, it works, and his eyes meet hers instead of touring her tattoos. "I tell people about them. That usually makes them less scary. Sometimes they even start to seem a little silly once you talk about them out loud." She pauses, wondering if it's worth it to reach out to him. Will Sawyer recoil from her?

"How about… How about you tell me about yours?" she asks, keeping her hands pressed flat against her thighs. No use in scaring him when he's already scared, she decides. "It helps, I promise," she adds, her voice a little too hopeful.

Sawyer nods at her assurance, but his eyes fall back to the floor again. Jane watches, holding her breath, but he doesn't look back up. When she tilts her head to the side, she realizes what he's fixated on. The owl sketch, inked onto the front of her calf. She glances down at it, frowning as she spots its howling red mouth and eyes, its scribbled black face.

"The tattoos can be… pretty scary, too, I know. But I promise I'm not mean. You can talk to me."

Sawyer lifts his head slowly. "I don't think they're scary," he says. "I like them. I want some."

Jane smiles. "I'd give them all to you if I could, Sawyer."

His face brightens a bit at that, but then falls. Jane wonders what he's thinking of, and knows there's only one way to find out.

"Why don't you tell me what your dream was about?" she presses quietly, shifting a little closer to him, lowering her voice in an attempt to be accepted into his confidences.

Sawyer's quiet for a long minute. He doesn't move, doesn't look up, doesn't say anything for a time. And Jane's about to let it go, about to accept that she isn't the right person to talk to him about this, no matter her proficiency in surviving nightmares, when his little voice cuts through the silence again—

"I had a dream about my dad," he says quietly.

The second the words leave the boy's lips, Jane can hear Kurt's intake of breath next to her, but she refuses to look over to him. She keeps her eyes on Sawyer, even though he's still looking at the floor. Or her tattoos. She isn't even sure anymore, what he's seeing and what he isn't.

"What kind of dream?" she asks.

"Nightmare," the boy mutters.

"Okay, what happened in the nightmare?"

"My dad said… He said he didn't love me, and—and that he didn't love my mom, either. He had another family that he loved better. He said—" The boy trembles for a moment, and Jane finds herself holding her breath, anxious. She's dug herself too deep already. "He—"

"What, Sawyer? What did he say?"

"He said—he said he should've made sure I was never born."

The silence that falls between the three of them after the boy stops speaking is physically painful; Jane can feel it in her heart and her lungs and for a few seconds, all she can do is open her mouth and close it, no words coming to her.

"That—does sound scary," Jane manages to say, finally, and she means it. She can't imagine being a nine-year-old and being confronted with these sorts of emotions or imaginings… Or memories. Listening to Sawyer talk, Jane can't help but think that what he was saying was much too specific for his young mind to have made it up. It came from somewhere, probably somewhere close by. "But, you know, I—I'm sure he didn't mean it," she continues quickly, trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. "I'm sure your dad didn't mean all those things he said in your dream; and it was just a dream after all, so that means your mind made it up. I bet he'd never say—"

"Jane," Kurt whispers urgently at her side, his hand gripping her arm tight, much too tight. "Jane—"

He doesn't need to say anything else; she knows immediately that she's trespassing the wrong way on land that is not hers. As smoothly as she can manage, she tries to change tactics. "But Sawyer, even—even if your dad said things like that…"

She watches the boy's head rise to meet hers, and she feels her words catch in her throat. He's really listening now, she thinks, meeting his wide, waiting eyes. He'll remember this. Whatever is said next, he'll remember it

She waits a second for Kurt to interrupt, to take over, but when he says nothing, she does her best to carry on as she thinks he might.

"Even if your dad said stuff like that, Sawyer, I don't think you should pay any attention to him. What he says shouldn't mean anything to you, because he's not part of your life, is he? He hasn't taken the time to get to know you, so whatever he says about you shouldn't mean anything." She can see the boy watching her, wanting to believe. How to convince him? "The… The same thing happens to me sometimes, too. People say mean stuff about me as well, and I have to remind myself that their opinions don't matter, because they don't know me."

Sawyer frowns up at her, sensing a lie. She can already see his face starting to close off. "Why? Why would anyone be mean to you?"

"Well, they see the tattoos, and they think they're scary, or ugly, and they give me mean looks and say mean things. And it makes me feel really bad. It makes me feel ashamed and unhappy and scared—just like you feel. But you know what?"

"What?"

"I forget about them. I ignore what they're saying, because they're not a part of my life. They're just people passing through, and if they're judging me, if they see the worth of someone just by looking at them, that's their problem." She crouches a little closer to him, ignoring the pain in her foot as she does so. "And I think you should think of your dad the same way. He didn't want to be a part of your life, or your mom's life—so what right does he have to say mean things about either of you?"

"But he's…" The boy swallows, his little eyes searching hers. "He's my dad."

Jane gives him a sympathetic smile. "I know. But is he here? Is he here taking care of you, looking out for you, like a dad should?"

Sawyer shakes his head. "No," he whispers.

"Then don't pay him any mind. He doesn't have to be important, or scary, unless you let him. Okay?"

"Okay."

Jane smiles a little, a chances a touch, squeezing the boy's shoulder like she's seen Kurt do. He doesn't flinch away, that's good. And maybe he even smiled a bit, but Jane can't be sure. Probably just wishful thinking.

When she leans back, her piece said, Kurt inserts himself seamlessly between them, catching his nephew's eye. "You're gonna be okay now, buddy. I know it. Now, do you want me to take you to your mom's room? You can sleep with her; I'm sure that'll make you feel better."

Sawyer shakes his head, "Mom doesn't like when I ask about Dad." A moment later, he wrinkles his nose, "And besides, Mom snores."

Kurt laughs a little. "Yeah, she does, huh? Well then…" He glances at Jane quickly, and watches her nod over Sawyer's head. "How about… How about you come and sleep with us? Is that okay? Would that make you feel better?"

x x x

It takes Sawyer barely ten minutes to get to sleep once they've all climbed into bed, and Jane watches, mesmerized, as the boy sleeps on Kurt's other side. She wonders if he always falls asleep so easily, or if it's the familiar company that makes drifting off go quicker. For her, she knows, it helps to have someone else there when you're trying to get to sleep. But even when she's lying here with Kurt, she can never get to sleep so fast.

"You okay with this?" Kurt asks from beside her, and Jane lets her eyes shift, moving from the boy on the far end of the bed to the man lying next to her, squeezed onto the middle of the mattress by littler bodies on either side. "With him staying here with us?"

"Of course," Jane answers. Part of her had said yes to this the moment she'd started talking to Sawyer about his nightmare. "He needs someone familiar."

"And someone who understands," Kurt replies, catching her eye.

Jane smiles a little, but doesn't feel worthy of the praise. "I don't understand much," she confesses.

"You understood how to help. That's enough."

Jane nods to that, figuring that he's right—at least where Sawyer's concerned, at least for tonight. She glances over again at the little boy, tucked in on Kurt's other side. Remembers listening to the two of them talk together…

"You told him the truth," Jane observes quietly. "About us. About why I'm here with you."

"Yeah," Kurt replies. "I've noticed that's the best thing to do with him, just say it straight."

Jane absorbs this, nodding. "And you've… You've been doing the same when you talk to him about his dad, I'm guessing?"

Kurt blows out a heavy sigh, and she waits—for him to say that this isn't her business, for him to say that they'll talk about this another time, for him to say—

"As much as I can," he answers quietly. "I… I'm telling him what I think he can handle."

"He's having nightmares, Kurt."

"That isn't my fault!" he protests at once, and then quickly quiets himself, glancing over his shoulder only to be met with a still-sleeping Sawyer. "What he was talking about there, about his dad saying he never wanted him to be born, I never told him that. I would never tell him that. He must've gotten it from Sarah, when she thought he wasn't around, or—or he overheard it on the phone or something—"

"Does Sarah keep in touch with him? Sawyer's father?"

"Tries not to," Kurt answers. "But sometimes…" He shakes his head. "I don't know," he mutters under his breath. "I've never understood them. I don't pretend to get what she saw in him."

"She at least keeps Sawyer away from him?"

"Yeah," Kurt answers. "She's smart about that. And she hasn't lost her head with him in a while, it's been four or five years, at least…" He sighs, and puts a hand over his eyes. "She'll kill me if she finds out I've been talking to Sawyer about him. She's getting more and more protective, the older he gets."

"Why?" Jane asks. "That seems…counterintuitive. Wouldn't she be overprotective when he's younger?"

"Well, that's a different kind of protection," Kurt replies. "She was protective of him when he was a little kid, very much so. But now that he's getting older, she figures—rightly, from what I can see—that Sawyer's going to be wanting to talk about his dad, maybe even meet him sometime. And the older he gets, the less control she has over him. At some point, he'll be able to go out into the world and find his dad himself, if he wants. Sawyer's all she's got, you know," Kurt adds softly, finding Jane's eyes. "She doesn't date, doesn't even go out that much. Sawyer's her life. She doesn't want to lose him, least of all to that asshole."

Jane nods, digesting this. They haven't really ever talked about Sarah, or her past with Sawyer's father, and she can't help but feel a little rattled thinking about it, even in these vague terms. In all the months she's been in the world, she still hasn't met anyone who's been kinder to her at first glance than Sarah Weller.

"I hope what I said to him was… was okay. I don't want to make things worse."

"No, I think you did good," Kurt answers. "Sometimes it's nice to have an outsider's perspective," he adds, and for a moment, she isn't sure if he means someone outside their family, or someone outside of society.

He must be following her thoughts, because he frowns a little when he next speaks:

"You never said… You've never mentioned that people have been harassing you."

She closes her eyes. She doesn't want to have this conversation. Not now; not here. "It isn't harassment, Kurt, it's just—"

"Yes, it is," he cuts in. "People are making you feel uncomfortable, making you feel threatened, that's harassment." He touches her cheek, tips her chin so she'll meet his eyes over the pillows. "Why haven't you told me?"

"Because it's not important, Kurt. People will act how they'll act—" She shrugs, shaking her head. "Besides," she adds, "there's nothing you can do about it, so please don't worry. It isn't a big deal. I've gotten used to it."

For a second, he just strokes her cheek with his fingers in silence. "I don't want you to have to get used to it, Jane. You don't deserve to suffer through anything else."

She smiles a little, and presses her cheek into his hand. "We agree there."

Leaning forward, she kisses him briefly, hoping to do away with all this and just go to bed. Just sleep. She leans into him, pressing her face into his neck after their lips break, and she's about to let herself relax when—

"You never told me you've been having nightmares, either."

Kurt's voice is almost inaudible as it cuts through the dark night, but he's close enough to her that she hears him without having to strain herself. She bites back a sigh, knowing he'll hear even the quietest one.

"I haven't been having them recently," she murmurs, not lifting her head from his shoulder. "They're nothing to worry about."

"But even so, why haven't you told me that—"

"Because I haven't been having them recently, Kurt," Jane interrupts, pulling back to look him in the eye. "Not in the past couple months, at least, not… Not since I've been spending nights with you."

His expression softens then, the worry leaching from it, and she smiles a little at how quickly his mood can change. And then she looks down, because she's never much liked being the center of attention, not even if he's her only audience.

"You make me feel safe, is all," she whispers, staring down at the bedsheet between them. "I… I love spending time with you here."

"I love it when you're here, too," Kurt replies, and his voice is so soft, so tender, that she can't help but look up and find his eyes. He smiles at her for quiet moment before letting that old frown creep back in.

"But Jane, you do know that I'm… I'm going to have to talk to Sarah about all this tomorrow. Sawyer seeing us kissing outside was one thing, but this… We can't expect him to keep this secret, too."

Jane nods, looking down. She'd seen this coming. She'd agreed to it the moment she'd encouraged him to let Sawyer spend the night with them. Doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow, though. "I know," she manages.

Kurt eyes her sadly. "I know you wanted more time, Jane. I know you're nervous about how everyone will react…" He reaches a hand out to squeeze her upper arm reassuringly, and rub warmth into her skin. "But we don't have to tell anyone apart from my sister, okay? We can… We can take this one person at a time."

Putting on a smile, Jane nods. She knows she shouldn't complain. It's not like she has to be the one to break the news to Sarah tomorrow.

"I know it's not ideal for you, but… Tell me the truth, Jane, are you going to be okay with this? I know you're protective of your privacy, and I'll make sure to tell her not to mention us to anyone else. I'll do my best to show her how important this is to you."

Jane nods, smiling a little. She can trust Sarah, she knows. And out of all the people they know, she's probably the first Jane would've wanted to tell anyway, had she been given the choice. "It'll be fine," she tells Kurt. "Besides," she adds with a little shrug, "It'll be nice not having to wake up at five in the morning anymore to sneak back out."

Kurt smiles at that, too, laughing a little, even, and she closes her eyes in contentment as he leans forward to kiss her. When he pulls back, he moves slowly. "We can still find time to be alone, you know," he tells her quietly, his face lingering close to hers, his breath warm on her lips. "Time to be just us."

She catches his eye, her smile widening at his promise, brightening the darkness of his bedroom. "I'll hold you to that," she says. And then she slips a hand to the back of his neck, and pulls his lips back to hers.

But this kiss is short-lived, because Sawyer is with them, sleeping just on Kurt's other side, and there isn't much they can do without jostling him. Closing her eyes as they pull apart, Jane feels a stab of regret, and then she immediately pushes it aside. It isn't as if things would've gone much further between her and Kurt if Sawyer weren't here with them, after all.

But whose fault is that, Jane?

She closes her eyes, squeezing them shut as hard as she can to banish the taunting thought from her own mind. She doesn't need to be thinking about it any more than she already is. After taking a few slow breaths, Jane finally feels calm enough to open her eyes. When she does, Kurt's there, staring right at her.

"What?" she asks, immediately defensive, not liking the way he's looking at her.

"You tell me," he answers, tipping his chin towards her. "You're the one with that dangerous look of concentration on your face."

She bites the inside of her lower lip, deliberating. They haven't discussed it recently, and she isn't sure if she wants to open this can of worms yet. But she doubts she's ever going to get an easier in than the one Sawyer handed her tonight. She takes a breath, reminds herself that this is Kurt here with her, reminds herself that there's nothing to be scared of, nothing to be ashamed of. Sawyer is asleep and so he isn't listening. Nonetheless, she still can't make herself meet Kurt's eyes when she forces the words out, and her voice is barely loud enough to be a whisper.

"When… When Sawyer asked if we were having sex earlier, I saw you blush…"

She pauses to take a breath, and she is grateful that he doesn't try to interrupt the momentary silence. He must know that there's more she has to get out. She reaches out to touch him, not strong enough to talk about this without him helping her, and runs a couple fingers against the length of his cheek, through his beard.

"Were you embarrassed because he asked or were you embarrassed because we… we still haven't, yet?"

"I'm not embarrassed of anything I do with you, Jane. Or anything I don't do with you."

It's a rote reply, and in the moment, she hates him for giving it to her. She wants to know what he really feels, what he really wants. She wants him to talk to her as uninhibitedly as he does his nephew. "Kurt, please just tell me—"

"Jane. You know I'll wait until whenever you're ready."

"You say that now…" She shakes her head. "But I don't know when I'm going to be ready." Or if, she thinks, but can't bring herself to say, not while they're lying in bed like this. Not while he's unwittingly promising to wait for her forever.

He catches her eye through the dark with a soft smile. "That's okay." He leans forward to kiss her once, slowly, chastely. Lips lingering on hers, he murmurs, "We'll get there when we get there. Not before. Okay?"

He holds her gaze as he pulls away, and she can't stamp down the flood of warmth and affection for him that runs through her. It's moments like this that make her want to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Moments like this that make her want to whisper Don't stop, Kurt in the middle of the night, when he makes himself pull away from her so they can each try to get some sleep. Moments like this that bring tears to her eyes, because she's been thinking, recently, that maybe she does know what she feels for him. She's been thinking that maybe she can put a name to the feeling after all, even if she can't put a name to them.

"Why are you so good to me, Kurt?"

The question is out from between her lips before she can even quite contemplate what she's asking, but when she watches his forehead crinkle a little in confusion as he takes in her words, she knows it's too late to take them back. He's heard them. And he'll answer.

For a couple seconds, he doesn't say anything. He just stares at her, his eyes searching her face like he might be able to find an explanation for her question there.

She lies still before him, too scared to move, fearful even to breathe too loud. She hadn't meant for this moment to become the moment.

"I don't know," he says finally, letting the words go slowly. His eyes are still fixated on her face, searching for something, but more carefully now. Like he's taking stock of what's there instead of hunting for what's not. "That's… That's kind of like me asking you why you're still here with me, still putting up with all this." As finds her eyes, and holds them with his, everything around them waits, suspended between them like his words, her words. The said ones and the unsaid ones.

Jane can't hear anything, can't do anything. She just stares at him as he stares at her and she waits. She wants to close her eyes, to look away, to relieve the tension somehow, but it's thick and heavy between them, and she knows the truth now, knows it in her bones and in her heart and in the tips of her fingers that are itching to touch him—

"If we were to actually ask each other those questions, I think—"

"Yes?"

"I think we'd give each give the same answer." His eyes meet hers, blink, fall away… and then return. "I hope so, at least," he whispers, watching her, waiting… "Don't you?"

She could say it, she knows. She could say it right here, right now, and it would all be out there.

She closes her eyes, tries to summon the strength, the frankness, but it won't come to her. It slips between her fingers, swirls around her head. It's so close that she can sense it, but she can't make it her own.

More time, she thinks. Just a little more time…

But Kurt's waiting, watching her. She can feel his anticipation like a tangible force between them. It's stealing all her air.

"I… I don't know," she says—lies—when she can speak. She's too nervous to face the truth, almost too nervous to look him in the eye. But somehow she manages the latter. "Would we have the same answer, you and me? Do you really think that?"

He gives her the smallest smile in reply, but it's the warmth in his eyes that does it: that lets her know that he knows, even if she can't say it yet. That he understands.

When he reaches out an arm out to draw her close, she relaxes, grateful, into his familiar embrace. He's heavy and so solid around her; all she has to carve out the smallest space for herself, and then she's surrounded. Tucking her head into his chest, she takes a deep breath of him, and lifts her head to kiss the side of his neck, his jaw. He strokes a hand through her hair, and when she lowers her lips and nestles herself back against his chest, he bends down to press a kiss to her hairline in reply. She listens to him breathe her in with pride heating her belly and happiness bursting in her chest.

"I really think that, yes," he whispers to her finally, cradling her against him, "I think we'd have the same answer, Jane. Same question, same answer. Every time."

x x x

A/N: The bit with Sawyer got way too long, I know, but I feel like the subplot had to justify itself. He needed a reason for being awake, and we all know Jane doesn't leave behind somebody in pain.

Thank you for reading! Reviews would be lovely if you have some thoughts. :) Maybe next time I'll be able to stick to something more light-hearted.

PS - I'm kind of toying with adding a bit more to this (not sure how much). If you have an interest in seeing more, please let me know below. :)