Because Kurt and Blaine deserve a love triangle and a vampire twist.

The wind was probably cold.

It probably nipped at the faces of the people around him, brushing against their exposed skin.

They probably had to clutch each other's fingers to keep their hands warm.

Of course, Kurt wouldn't know.

He couldn't feel the bitterness of the cold, the bite of the wind, the warmth of someone else's hand in his.

Kurt tugs his jacket closer to this lithe frame and wishes, with all of his unbeating heart, that he could.

"Uncle Kurt?"

There's a tug on his jacket. When he looks down, huge brown eyes are searching his face.

"What, sweetie?"

"Daddy told me to tell you to stop throwing yourself a pity party and get coffee."

Kurt takes his eyes from his nephew's face and finds Finn across the plaza, trying to hide a smile behind his hand. The countertenor scoffs and offers his nephew a long fingered hand, which he takes without hesitation.

As they make their way toward the tall man, Kurt drawls loudly, "Have I ever told you about that time when your daddy tripped over his enormous feet and fell on his face in the middle of the cafeteria?"

"You know, Kurt, I think you have told him that story. Too many times." Finn's mouth is curled upward into a grin that makes him look seventeen again; Kurt's dead heart suddenly aches. Finn scoops his son into his arms and gestures toward the Lima Bean. "Medium drip?"

"So is this how often I get to see you now? Every three months?" Finn's not looking at him; his eyes are locked onto his little boy, coloring in an incredibly unrealistic dolphin at the table beside them. His voice is low, knowing that his kid was an infamous eavesdropper, and every now and then he would lift his cup to his lips. Kurt knew he wasn't exactly a coffee fan.

"I've been busy."

"Yeah, so have I, Kurt. That doesn't mean you can't call me. Or drop me a text. You realize he started first grade last Monday? He kept talking about how he needed your approval for his 'first day outfit'." Finn searches his face for a moment. "I understand that your situation is…different now. I know you're scared of losing everyone."

Kurt shifts in his seat and looks down at his hands.

"But you can't give up on your family. Not yet, at least."

"I know." His eyes flash up, but Finn's not looking at him anymore. His eyes are on his son again, who has chosen to color the table cloth instead of his paper.

"It's been ten years, Kurt. Don't you think it's time to accept that you're not going to die?"

Kurt searches the lines of Finn's face. There were wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and around his mouth that Kurt had failed to notice. The thick gold band on his left hand catches light streaming through the wide windows. Kurt feels a tug in his chest, a burn in his eyes, and wonders how in the world he's going to spend eternity without his brother. He barely made it through high school with Finn.

"Sir, could you ask your child to stop staining our tablecloths please?"

"Caleb, color the dolphin please." Finn pushes the paper under his son's crayon. The boy doesn't seem to notice. "So…any word from Blaine?"

"As if."

"Sassy."

Kurt curls his long fingers around his coffee cup and sips at it. The taste lingers on his tongue; he swears his sense of taste had escalated. "For the rest of eternity, I will be sassier than Mercedes after a day without a Twinkie."

Finn barks a laugh.

"At least he has to good sense to stay away from me."

The taller man nods, his eyes locked on the window. There's silence between them, but it's not uncomfortable. When Finn looks back at Kurt, there's a question written on his face.

"What happened that night, Kurt?" Kurt glances toward the six year old next to them; he's scribbling pink polka dots into the dolphin's tail. Finn's eyes are sympathetic. "You came home covered in blood, crying hysterically. Remember? I had to shove you in the shower and burn your clothes. Next thing I knew, you were growing huge fangs and your eyes were red and I was scared shitless."

Kurt's mouth lifted into a fond smirk. "But you didn't leave."

"And I have the scars to prove it." He shakes back his sleeve and bares the four inch scar that traveled down from the joint of his arm. Kurt takes his hand and squeezes.

"I'll always be grateful for you, Finn. I'm not sure what I'd have done without you during those first few weeks."

Finn gives him the famous lopsided smile. "I know. But…what happened?"

"Daddy, I'm tired."

"Five more minutes, buddy."

"I'm tired, though."

Finn sighs and shoots Kurt the I'm-sorry-but-I-really-have-to-go-now look. Kurt squeezes his hand again, this time tighter, and stands up to place a soft kiss on the top of Caleb's head.

When they walk out of the coffee shop together, the first grader's hand held securely in his father's, Finn gives Kurt a one-armed hug and whispers in his ear, "Be good. Don't kill anyone. Call me."

And as Kurt watches them walk away, he has to ignore the tears welling up in his throat.

Because honestly, he'd already forgotten how to cry.

"I love you more than anything."

"More than anything in the whole world?"

"More than anything."

"Even Harry Potter?"

"Even more than Harry Potter."

"Disney songs?"

"Lame compared to you."

"I don't believe you."

"Kurt Hummel, you are everything I will ever want for the rest of my life."

Kurt opens his eyes.

His ears prick.

In the bathroom on the opposite side of his loft, the water is running.

He knows who it is before he has the chance to wake up completely.

"Get out of my house."

He speaks to the ceiling; he knows that his visitor can hear him, even from three miles away.

There's a little whoosh of air, and there's someone leaning against his doorway.

"You should really get a human roommate so that we have to be invited in. Unwanted visitors are never good."

His voice is shocking; it rattles every bone in Kurt's cold body.

He props himself up on his elbows and glares as his eyes flash red.

There's only a towel wrapped around his waist, showing off a pair of defined sex lines, water slipping down his tan chest, his unruly curls hanging low on his forehead. The sexy smirk on his face makes Kurt want to punch his mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Blaine?"

"I came to see you."

Kurt rolls over and closes his eyes. "Get out."

"Are you…sleeping?"

"Get out."

"You know that you don't have to sleep, right?"

"If you don't get out, I'm going to rip your head off."

There's a scoff and the sound of fabric hitting the floor; Kurt slits one open to see Blaine stalking, stark naked, across his bedroom floor and into his walk-in closet. He stifles a moan – because honestly, it had been awhile since he'd seen any beautiful man naked – and presses his forever-seventeen face into the feather down pillow.

A few moments later, the bed shifts; a pair of arms slide around him, holding him close.

And suddenly, Kurt feels the warmth from Blaine's skin. He knows he's not supposed to, he knows that Blaine is just as cold as him. But there's something about being held by his creator that makes the blood in his veins rush again.

Kurt melts into them.

And then he's shoving Blaine away from him and throwing himself out of bed.

"God, what's your problem, Kurt?"

"You did this to me!" He's jabbing a finger at the vampire curled comfortably in his bed. "You made me like this!"

Blaine rolls his eyes. "Oh, Kurt. It's been ten years. Can't you just get over it already?"

"You realize that I'm going to outlive my family? I'm going to have to watch all my friends die. I'm going to be alone. Forever."

"You don't have to be." Blaine's voice is quieter now; softer, less snarky. "Kurt, I changed you so that we could be together. I love—"

Kurt presses his hands to his temple and stomped toward the door. "Shut up."

"Where are you…?"

He doesn't answer; he just zooms toward the fridge and throws the door open (one of the hinges squeals horribly; Kurt sighs and makes a mental note to fix it in the morning). Using his toes, he pulls open the produce drawer and snatches an IV bag full of AB positive.

When he rips it open with his teeth and starts to drink, he hears a noise of disgust.

"Don't you want to heat it up or something?"

"Excuse me?" Kurt's tongue slips down to lick a drop from his chin. When he turns, Blaine's arms are crossed over his chest.

Blaine shrugs one shoulder. "I prefer it at 100.4."

"I'd prefer if you weren't in my favorite Gucci boxers and standing in my kitchen, but there you are. In my boxers. "

"I understand that you're mad - "

"What? I thought I was being subtle."

" - But you have to let it go."

Kurt dropped the empty bag onto the counter and moved forward, poking a finger hard into Blaine's chest.

"Listen, you selfish asshole. I don't care how much you love me. I don't care why you did it. All I know is that I'm going to have to be alone for the rest of eternity. You, Blaine Anderson, are dead to me."

Blaine's hazel eyes are intense, but sad. They're locked onto Kurt's forever young face, searching his features for something he obviously doesn't find.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the flawless skin of Kurt's soft cheek.

His eyes flutter shut as Blaine's lips move to his ear.

"I will always love you."

When he opens his eyes, Blaine is gone.

Sam lets himself into the apartment with the spare key.

He drops the cooler onto the kitchen counter and throws his keys onto the table. It's silent in the loft, but he knows Kurt can hear him, so he grabs the mail from near his keys and starts rifling through it.

"Does the word 'privacy' mean anything to you?"

The sudden snippy voice makes him jump and drop the few envelopes; Kurt catches them before they hit the ground.

"I wish you would stop doing that." He manages through his surprise. Kurt snorts. "Seriously. I don't have supersonic hearing or whatever."

Kurt lifts a shoulder and pops open the cooler; eight bags of AB negative look back at him. Sam watches him lick his lips and then looks down at his hands. He knew he was one of the three people Kurt ever told about his…situation, but he was still uneasy around his old friend.

A cold hand presses into his arm. "Thank you, Sam."

He smiles and meets Kurt's pretty eyes. "I don't mind. You know that."

"Still."

The boy crosses the kitchen and shoves the blood into his produce drawer, offering Sam the empty cooler and a diet Pepsi when he was finished.

"You look tired."

"Blaine paid me a visit last night."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "How was that?"

"I told him to get out."

"Of course you did." Sam cracked open his soda and sipped, feeling the extra cold liquid smooth down his throat. Kurt watched him with a affectionate smile. "What did he want?"

Kurt lifts himself up onto the counter, smoothing his palms over his skinny jeans, and answers with a simple, "Nothing worth mentioning."

An eyebrow disappears into Sam's blonde bangs. "Well, if he comes back…You could always call me."

"Oh, yes, because your scrawny little human arms could do so much to an old vamp like Blaine." Kurt laughs, shaking his head. Sam rolls his eyes.

"I'm just saying it might deter him a little."

"It's not like he tries to kill me or anything."

"Still."

Kurt's smile is full of amusement. "Do I detect slight jealousy in your tone, Evans?"

His cheeks burned. "Of course not."

Kurt motions with one finger. Sam grudgingly moves around the table and stands in front of him. Kurt's fingers curl around his Led Zeppelin band tee and pull him impossibly close; the countertenor parts his legs so Sam is stand between them and pokes his nose lightly with the tip of his pointer finger.

"Really?"

Sam's heart flutters at the proximity. His hands, acting on their own accord, came up to rest on Kurt's thighs, reveling in how cool his skin was, even through his jeans. His eyes bore into Kurt's aqua marine ones and he realizes that he still has to answer.

"Really." He says finally, the words lacking sincerity. Kurt dips his head and Sam feels his tongue against his neck; against his pulse.

"I can hear your heart beating, Sam. It's going pretty fast, you know."

"I ran here."

Kurt laughs against his neck. "Good one."

Sam's hands leave his thighs and smooth over Kurt's jaw instead, pulling his head up. There's a second when they look at each other, when Sam's eyes flicker down to his full, red lips and he thinks they maybe have a chance.

But then he's not holding Kurt anymore.

Then, the countertenor is fifty feet away from him and holding the front door open, sweeping a hand toward the elevator.

His hands, holding air instead of Kurt's face, drop to his sides.

"See you next week, Sam." Kurt says softly when Sam ambles out the door, a lingering look resting on the vampire's beautiful face. When he goes to shut the door, though, Sam catches it with his foot. Kurt raises an eyebrow when he moves forward and places the most searing of kisses onto Kurt's lips, making the countertenor's toes curl in his pointy boots.

There's lightening and fireworks and for a second Kurt's heart almost feels like it's fluttering again.

And then Sam pulls away.

His lips hovering ever so slightly above Kurt's, he whispers, "See you next week, Kurt" and removes his foot, letting the door snap shut.