"I think that's it," Dave says, dumping the large box on the bare floor of Kurt's room. He dusts off his hands on his jeans and cracks his phalanges and, as he stretches up, takes a look at the last box . It was surprisingly heavy for... Drapes? How could drapes weigh so much? Scratch that, who needs a box full of drapes?

Well, Kurt Hummel does, apparently. Dave snorts and lets it go, because he's learned that much. Never question Kurt's tastes, especially regarding home decor. Kurt will yap on and on about the benefits of having a living space that's functional, comfortable and eye-pleasing.

He knows, that's how most of the Pennsylvanian part of their road trip went.

"Oh, great, I've been dying to hang those!" Kurt squats in front of the box and tears away the tape with a swift yank. He pulls out a long, long roll of a deep chocolate brown fabric. "These will make this place homey in an instant."

Dave lets himself fall on their couch (their own couch, crappy but it's theirs) and chuckles, half-heartedly. "It's a very, very basic apartment Kurt, I'm not sure you can make it cozy so fast. And I thought the plan was to get away from home."

Kurt sends him a very pointed look that has little effect. "We got away from Lima, David. We're making New York home again." His tone is somber, darkening the mood slightly. Until their eyes meet and Kurt forces a smile. "And that starts with draping! Naked walls are an abomination."

He springs back on his feet and Dave has the time for one not-that-annoyed sigh before Kurt reels him into his decorative venture.

…

It's been Dave's idea first. Kurt likes to pretend he came up with the plan but the initial spark came from Dave.

Okay neither really remembers it but it's still a fact.

…

"We should-should move in together," Dave slurred, his fingers playing idly in a puddle of beer on the counter. His eyes, unfocused, became dreamy. "We should totally move in together."

"I am not moving in with you." Kurt went for a playful shove but ended up plastered on Dave's shoulder, cheek first. "You're a slob dude. Look," and he pointed at the wet mess Dave was spreading around.

"I don't… It's an organized mess and don't call me dude."

Kurt rubbed his cheek on Dave's shoulder and pulled away with a tired groan. "Is just… Finn liked to call people dude, you know. I..." He shook his head and tapped on the counter until he got the bartender's attention. "Another?" he asked, pointing in the approximate direction of his empty glass.

Dave gave Kurt the best comforting look he could muster, given his condition and switched the topic with a nudge.

"No but we totally should."

Kurt snorted, a hint of bitterness behind the casual sound. "Yeah and then we could call the apartment The House of Survivors of Blaine Anderson. Hey, maybe we can get a grant or something, considering it'd be like a recovery house!"

Dave almost chokes on his beer. "Yeah, and it'd be crowded as fuck."

…

The conversation took a turn for the lighter, joking about the different kinds of therapy they could offer at their "house", the activities they could plan so the guys could learn to trust again, etc. All in all a fun evening, very boozy, with a lot of bitching and many laughs.

The next morning came with one hell of a headache and a lingering idea. When they met again, for a coffee at the Lima Bean, it was brought up by Kurt this time.

"You ever think about going back, to New York?" Kurt played with the foam crowning his cappuccino, much like Dave was doing the night before, with his beer. He looked up, a slightly hopeful smile lighting up his face. "I mean, we could. Clearly I need a new start, somewhere far away from here. Coming back did nothing for me and I miss the city."

He took a long sip and squinted at his friend. "I want to try the Big Apple again, David, and I'm pretty sure it's time for you too. Your dad is much better now, you could go back to NYU. SUNY, if it comes to that."

Dave, mind still fuzzy and unclear, nodded out of habit more than anything else. "Sure." It was usually easier to just agree with Kurt. But it felt like a good idea. It made him feel better, just thinking about it after all.

…

The idea made its way, progressed into both guys' mind. It really was perfect timing. A shotgun wedding, followed by an annulment not five days later, had left Kurt done with romance and more focused on himself and his career than ever. Something incompatible with Ohio and its limited opportunities.

Whereas Dave was at a similar point in his life. Blaine had been a stupid mistake, the product of loneliness and the need for something else to do besides being his father's caretaker. Now that Paul was fully recovered from his stroke and actually pestering Dave to leave him alone, it was time to go back to his own life and finish law school.

What started as a drunken joke became very real when Kurt came to the Karofsky house with a list of available apartments. Then a month later they were packing Kurt's truck, Dave was behind the wheel of a U-Haul and they were headed for New York, leaving their parents with some regret, Ohio and Blaine with none.

…

A couple of months into cohabitation and what do you know, Dave and Kurt are very compatible roommates. Kurt might be overly into home improvement and Dave might be a little carefree with his dishes and laundry but overall, it's a match made in heaven, with little to no arguments.

That being said, they don't spend that much time together. It's hard to find the time to fight when you're busy with school and an internship on one side, countless auditions and independent drama classes on the other.

Actually, it's hard to find any kind of time, or any kind of rest. Dave spends his evenings bent over books and cases to analyze, while Kurt runs from one underground theater to another. Getting back into the frantic pace of the college/city life, it's stressful and consuming.

At first, they cope relatively well, the enthusiasm carrying them and giving them energy. But by the end of October, the colder weather and increasing workload take its toll on both guys. For Dave it takes the form of less sleep and more caffeine. For Kurt, it's a little different.

…

The first time, Dave doesn't even register what's going on.

It's past two a.m., that dangerous hour when Dave starts to wonder if no sleep at all might be the best option for this night. He decides a snack might help his decision, or at least his studying.

He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, mindful of Kurt's sleep, but he realizes it's pointless when he sees him standing in front of the open fridge, bathed in the blueish light.

"Can't sleep uh?" Dave whispers. He smiles, walks around Kurt and looks into the cupboard for that box of Cheerios that should be there. "Me neither. Too much left to do. But you have an audition tomorrow morning, you should really try to get some rest. You always complain that you can't conceal these bags under your eyes."

An undecipherable grunt is the only response he gets. He doesn't think much of it, too busy fighting with the sticky tab of the box. "Fine, but don't you bitch about being tired tomorrow."

He taps on Kurt's shoulder as he passes him by, making him jump and yelp, and chuckles all the way back to his room.

"Way too nervous, Hummel, you need sleep, definitely," he says as he closes the door.

The next morning Kurt doesn't mention the incident, any fatigue or touchiness. He's all smiles and excitement at the prospect of his audition. Dave is honestly too zombie to keep up any kind of conversation that goes beyond asking for the milk, so it ends there.

…

He starts wondering a week later, when it's been three times he's runs into Kurt at the wee hours of the night. Each time he's in the kitchen, fixing himself a snack. Nothing that unusual, so Dave greets him and that's it. But he still questions it because staying up that late? That's his thing, not Kurt. So that fourth time, before he heads back to his room, he really pays attention to what Kurt is eating and stops in his tracks.

"Hum, Kurt? You do realize you're dipping carrots in mustard, right?"

No reply or explanation from Kurt, who indeed keeps on swirling the baby carrots in the Dijon before popping them in his mouth. Dave puts the bag of chips he's holding on the counter and waves his hand in front of Kurt's face.

"Kurt? Kurt?" He pauses, frowns and rests his hand on Kurt's shoulder, gently. "Hummel, you there?"

Kurt grunts and shrugs the hand away, eats another carrot.

"Kurt?" Dave's voice comes out pitchy and weird but neither picks up on it, Dave because he's honestly worried, Kurt because… Because he's fast asleep.

"What the…" Dave cocks his head to the side, trying to get a good look at Kurt's face. His eyes are open but void, his expression quite neutral. "Shit you're really asleep. You're sleepwalking. Well, sleep eating."

Dave chuckles and takes a step back, observing Kurt's automatic movements. Regular like a metronome and a little hypnotizing. "Wow, and you say I eat crap…" he says.

The words, louder than what was said before, resonate in the kitchen and he bites his lip, suddenly worried. "Shit, I can't remember… Should I wake you? Isn't it like dangerous or something?" he says under his breath.

He looks back at Kurt, wondering. It's not like Kurt is at risk or anything. The kitchen is clean and in order, no blades or knife nearby. No danger easily accessible. While mustard carrots are an unappealing dish, to say the least, it's not toxic or worse (on Kurt's scale), fattening.

His dilemma is resolved by Kurt himself, who turns around, puts the carrots and mustard back in the fridge and shuffles back to his room without so much as a glance in Dave's direction.

"Okay then."

…

October is all about food. Almost every other night Dave finds Kurt munching on something, usually a combination that could rival the weirdest pregnancy craving. Sleepwalking Kurt likes condiments, on food that should never, ever, come in touch with them. Watching Kurt dunk an apple in their jar of mayonnaise is an image that will haunt him forever.

November, Kurt starts being more physical with his condition. First it's the living room. Dave finds him rearranging his games on the shelf by color, then surfing through every channel they have on the TV at an impressive speed, without settling on one.

He starts getting more vocal too.

Complaining about the weather, a strange smell coming from the subway and how they should really make a vegetable-themed version of Twister. All in the same conversation.

Dave still doesn't really worry about it until he wakes up one night and Kurt is not in the apartment. Bathroom is deserted and so is Kurt's room. Living room is quiet, kitchen as well. But the front door is ajar and getting his attention, just as he's starting to feel the cold sweat of worry gather on the back of his neck.

"Kurt?" he calls, mindful of the volume. The neighbors don't need to get involved and awakened. Poking his head out, he breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Kurt curled up on the floor, right next to the door.

"What are you doing out here Kurt?" he still asks. It bears asking, even if there's little chance he'll get a real answer.

"Waiting for the bus, duh. I gotta save the kitties and they're way over there by the windmill, I can't walk that far."

Dave stops, hand on the knob and swallows back the peal of laughter rising in his throat.

"Yeah… Okay." One deep breath is required for him to continue with a serious tone. Just because Kurt is asleep and not making sense doesn't mean he should mock him. "What do you say we wait for it inside, huh? It's cold out here." He offers his hand, gently nudging at Kurt's arm until he uncrosses them and grabs Dave's.

"Mmkay, but we can't miss it."

"I know, the kitties need you. We'll keep an ear out for the bus."

Kurt drags his feet, figuratively and literally, but follows Dave back inside the apartment, never letting go of his hand.

They end up waiting for the bus on the couch, holding hands. After an hour Kurt sighs, untangles their fingers and pats on Dave's arm.

"No bus, kitties will wait until tomorrow."

Just like that he's gone, bumping into the coffee table on the way back to his room.

"Hum, okay, good night Kurt."

Dave spends a few more thoughtful minutes on the couch and after some deliberation, comes to a decision.

It's all fun and harmless on the surface but if Kurt can get out of the apartment without being conscious of his actions… The potential danger seems suddenly very real and worrying.

In the dark and now quiet living room, undisturbed, Dave's mind does leaps and bounds, imagines one possible accident after another. A slip and a fall in the stairs, broken bones and a commotion. A gnarly hit and run right down the street, where it crosses the avenue and there's always so much traffic. So much blood.

"Shit I need to talk to him."

There's a part of this reasoning that might be influenced by the late hour and the fatigue. Still, the bottom line remains. Kurt needs to know.

…

"So…" Dave grabs the plate and dries it off quickly. "Can we talk about something?"

Kurt snorts as he rinses off the last glass. "Yes, please. You've been distracted all evening, got me worried for those plates. And for you too, of course. What's the matter?"

Dave wipes his hands and keeps the towel in his hands. Something to play with and twist as he tries to find the correct way to broach the subject. "Have you… Have you ever had trouble sleeping?"

"No, not really. The occasional insomnia like everyone else but nothing else. Why, do you have problems?" Kurt turns off the faucet and snatches the towel away. "Tell me."

"No, no, I'm fine, thanks. I mean, I don't sleep much but it's fine, it's…" Dave moves to take the dishrag from Kurt's hands, only to have it dangled away. "Give it back."

"No more evading techniques, mister. What's bothering you, if it's not a lack of sleep?" Kurt leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, effectively trapping the towel.

A raised eyebrow aimed at him, unwavering for several seconds, and Dave knows he's lost this round. He sighs and drops his hands.

"Fine. I'm worried about you."

Kurt has a minute shrug. "No need to be. Sure the schedule is crazy and there are no worthy auditions I swear, but all in all I'm fine."

Dave stares at him, head tilted to the side. "You have… You really don't know then?" When he receives a blank stare in return, he has an answer. "You're sleepwalking Kurt. Every night."

He waits for Kurt's reply but it's nothing he expected.

"Oh. Well, that's unfortunate."

Dave is stunned silent, for a minute. Kurt toys with the towel, eyes cast down, but seemingly unfazed by Dave's revelation.

"Unfortunate?" Dave croaks out. His hands rise and fall, in utter disbelief. "Kurt, it's a serious condition and it could-"

"I know, David. I've had it since forever. I just… Haven't had an episode in a long time, that's all."

"And you never thought of telling me?" There's a layer of accusation in his voice but it's concern before anything else and Kurt must feel it because he doesn't even bristle at the question.

Kurt shrugs, a faint color appearing on his cheeks. "It's not exactly a trouble I like to broadcast and it didn't happen since sophomore year. I honestly thought it went away with puberty, something like that."

"Well it doesn't," Dave says quietly. "I found you in the hallway last night, and…" He clears his throat, awkwardly. "I have no idea what… You could get hurt. It's not Lima out here, and if you can get out of the apartment without even realizing it…"

Kurt sighs and scratches the back of his neck. "You have a point. Well… If it's back, then we need to Kurt-proof the apartment."

…

In many respects, it's basically like baby-proofing. They put child-safe locks on every single cupboard and cabinet and the fridge gets locked. They make a point to clean and put away all the dishes, knives and utensils, every night. The bathroom is secured, the pharmacy getting a padlock and the cleaning products put out of reach as well. The front door gets a new bolt, for which Dave keeps the key in his room. When they're done, there is no more danger for your usual roaming Kurt and far less options for him to mess around or cause trouble.

Which brings out a new problem. Kurt keeps on sleepwalking, except he has less to do while moving around, and fewer possibilities. He can't go outside, there's nothing to eat or to play with… Out of options, Kurt finds a new hobby, a new destination for his wanderings.

The only place that's not locked or empty and boring, Dave's room.

It's funny at first. Dave is at his desk, bent over his books, when Kurt shuffles inside his bedroom.

"Need a towel and a screwdriver, very important," Kurt mumbles, heading straight for the closet. He squats down, pushes and pulls and wiggles the door until it opens and he can crawl inside.

Dave drops his pen and leans back on his chair, amused by the little spectacle Kurt is giving by rummaging through his clothes. He's throwing things around but it's funny enough that Dave doesn't really care, plus his room's a mess anyway.

The fact that Kurt is on all fours, back curved and ass coming up and out, it helps. There's no denying that. He can sees the outline of his underwear through the thin material of his pajama pants, a strip of the waistline peeking on his lower back…

"Got it," Kurt announces, crawling back quickly.

Not so fast that Dave doesn't have the time to avert his eyes and return his attention to his homework. He risks a glance sideways, and can't help the double take. "Kurt, hum…"

It's pointless, he knows it, Kurt is beyond reasoning when he's sleepwalking, but Kurt has taken his favorite sweatshirt and is wrapping it around his waist. That's nothing though, if you take into consideration that Kurt has gotten his hands on a very large, very sparkly dildo that Dave thought was hidden well enough.

It clearly wasn't and is now held tightly by Kurt, who's climbing into his bed.

"Kurt…" Dave drops his pen and rushes to his side. Too late, he's snuggled under the covers, the comforter thrown over his head just as Dave reaches him. "Kurt?" Dave pokes experimentally on every moving bump he can find. His finger touches a hip, a shoulder, a head, a butt cheek that makes him blush a deeper shade of crimson. Kurt changes direction depending on the touch but never comes out, or relinquishes the "instrument". Dave needs to retrieve it. Mostly because he'd rather not explain its presence in Kurt's hand tomorrow morning.

"Stupid gift. Why the hell did I keep that…" Dave mutters.

Because he couldn't dare throwing away something that Santana gave him, and… Maybe because he planned on giving it a try. Eventually.

Serves him right, now it's stolen and he's got more than one problem on his hands. He needs to retrieve his… toy, and get Kurt out of his bed. Two things he never thought he'd have to do.

"Gonna repair the engine so Dad can get to work, yes…" Kurt says with importance. It loses some effect on the way to Dave's ears, the words barely perceptible through the layers.

Dave sighs and steps back. "Fine, you do that then go back to bed." It's the wiser course of action, rather than accidentally waking him up and risking further embarrassment.

He goes through a dozen of pages of his economics book before there's louder rustling and a Kurt emerging with crazy hair and unfocused eyes.

"All done. Now sleep," he announces, throwing the dildo on the ground (thank you!) and wiping his hands on the sweater before making it follow the same path.

"Exactly. Sleep now." Dave hurries to pick up the toy before it rolls under the bed and shakes off the sweatshirt to remove the dust balls. "I need to clean up in here, really."

"Sleep," Kurt repeats with a smack of the lips. "Yes, sleepy sleep." He chuckles, and much to Dave's horror, rolls around in the blankets until he's completely wrapped into them.

"No, no, no not here," Dave says. Sweatshirt and dildo get dropped on his desk and instead he tries to untangle the mess that is Kurt and the bedding.

"Sleep," Kurt replies and he shoos Dave away with an imperious finger.

"In your own bed," Dave continues. He very nearly sounds desperate but it can't be helped. "Please Kurt."

"Meh."

It's a long and tiresome process, a negotiation really but after twenty minutes of pleas and sleep replies, Dave gets through to Kurt and convinces him that his own bed would be more comfortable. He walks him back to his room, hand on the small of his back just to guide him, and holding his breath the whole time. Once Kurt safely tucked in his bed and he can go back in his room, he allows himself to breathe.

"That was a close one," he mutters. "Too close," he adds as he picks up the sex toy and shoves it back in the closet. This time it goes on the highest shelf and far in the corner too. Out of everyone's reach.

…

Too close a call becomes a weekly occurrence. Kurt loses interest in every room but Dave's and invades it with a frustrating regularity. No even once after "engine repair" incident does Kurt spends time in the living room or in the kitchen. No, it's all about Dave's room, he never gets a break. The one night he tries to lock his door pre-emptively, Kurt scratches at his door and meows, freaking meows pathetically until Dave lets him in.

He gets tired of looking through Dave's stuff after a couple of times. It gets worse. He just sneaks into Dave's bed and refuses to leave. It's bad enough when Dave is at his desk or playing videogames or doing whatever else when Kurt stumbles into his room. It's too cute, sort of distracting, Dave can't help glancing at the body under the covers every minute or so.

The real worst part is when Kurt sneaks in and Dave's already in bed, hoping tonight won't be a sleepwalking night. Of course it happpens when he takes a chance, goes to bed early because for once he's not buried under assignments and exams. That has to be the night that Kurt is especially explorative.

Dave is floating in the netherworld between wakefulness and sleep when there it is, the creak of the door, the light sound of socked feet on the floor and… The cold wisp of air that climbs up his naked back when Kurt lifts the blankets.

"No, I was just about to get some sleep, fuck…" Dave says with a shiver. He's now about to turn around, get up and lead Kurt back to his bed, again, but he's stopped by a warm hand on his hip and an even warmer body pressed against his back.

"Kurt…" A warning and a plea wrapped into one word, breathed out quickly. It's pointless, it's not like Kurt can hear him.

"Sleep. Fuck," Kurt giggles and rubs his cheek against Dave's shoulder. "Yes. Sleep. Fuck." Another chuckle and Kurt holds on more tightly. No, actually he's moving his hand, a little lower, a little further. A couple of fingers find a loose spot on the waistband of his boxers.

"Kurt, Kurt come on…" Dave whispers loudly, now fully awake and more than a little panicked.

"Yes, Kurt wants to come…" Kurt groans, his teeth sinking into Dave's bicep and biting playfully. He starts moving against Dave, erratic thrusts that gain purpose and rhythm quickly, just as quickly as Kurt's dick gets harder and fuller.

The initial shock wears off and Dave can feel himself get hard embarrassingly fast, his breathing speed up, his hands holding Kurt's in place instead of prying them away. When one slides over his underwear-clad dick, he throws his head back and helps it get there.

"I'm going to hell, fuck." But he can't help himself. He wants it too much. Has been wanting this too much, for too long.

It's okay to admit it there and then, in the dark, just to himself. What's not okay is to let Kurt go ahead with this. He doesn't know what he's doing and it's Dave's job to protect him.

"Mmm, Dave," Kurt murmurs and Dave nearly loses mind and will at that one. It would be understandable. Kurt Hummel is seducing him.

But he's also asleep and has no idea he's doing any of it. Dave can't forget that part, doesn't want to pretend it doesn't exist either. That's why he takes a long, steadying breath, pushes Kurt's hand away, firmly, and scoots closer to the edge of the bed, farther from Kurt.

"No…" Kurt whines, fingers grasping at air and folds of blankets he can reach blindly. "Come back, warm and fuzzy and hot and…"

Dave bites the inside of his cheek, hard, and balls up his fists. "No," he whispers loudly. "Not like this." Legs swing out of the bed and he pushes the comforter out of the way.

"Cold, no…" Kurt spreads out on the bed, rolls around in the search for comfort and Dave's body heat. Nothing more.

"There's a warm bed, in your room," Dave says. Kurt grunts in reply and rolls onto his back with a scoff. Dave manages, with more self-control than he ever imagined he had, to not look down Kurt's splayed body and simply grab his wrist with a gentle hand. "Let me show you."

"M'cold." Kurt shivers but allows himself to be guided out of Dave's bed, out of Dave's room and away from the danger of doing something irreparable.

Dave resumes breathing once Kurt's door is closed and he's back in his room, banging his head against the wall.

"Idiot," he mutters, "What were you thinking, letting it go this far, taking advantage of him, fuck."

Tonight was, most definitely, way too close and terrible a call. Something must be done, or said.

…

The next day it takes three hours of a Lord of the Rings marathon, on a rare free evening, for Dave to muster up the courage to broach the subject. In a way.

"I think… Shouldn't you see someone, a doctor or something? You know, about your condition?"

Obviously the wrong thing to say in the middle of an orc battle. Kurt sighs and crosses his legs underneath him, one hand running through his hair impatiently.

"I don't know David, okay? My dad told me I used to do weird, random things during my sleep but that all stopped after I joined Glee club. I had found an outlet and it calmed me down." He shrugs, almost shivers and shrinks away on the couch. "I guess art is what stresses me out these days so it doesn't work anymore. But I'm in one piece, you're not hurt, the apartment hasn't burned down… It's not that bad then, right?"

Dave swallows with difficulty, past the knot in his throat, past the memory of the downright pornographic moans, of the fingers that gripped his hips, of the sharp thrusts and of the playful lips on his neck.

"N-no, not that bad," he breathes out. He can't bring himself to look up and face Kurt's stare. Admit what happened, what almost happened. For now it will just be him and his soda.

Kurt shrugs again and reaches for the popcorn, undeterred by Dave's mutism. "There, it's settled. I don't have the time to see a doctor for something that's not really an illness, especially if we can manage it on our own. By the way, I appreciate your help with this, David, really. I know I can be weird and troublesome when I sleepwalk. Well, I've been told."

"Is nothing." If he could create a hole in the ground with his mind and slips into it, it'd be done by now.

"Thank you anyway, for taking care of me."

Dave grunts and tries to hide his face even more, feeling the blush creep back to his cheeks. "No need to."

…

After that first incident, regardless of his good sense or his remorse, turning Kurt away… It's beyond his control. Or no, not so much his control than his willpower. Probably because he might have liked to believe that his crush on Kurt was a thing of the past when actually it had just been pushed away by time. Having him so close, touching him… It reawakens feelings, ideas. Hopes. Not just physical reactions.

It's bad, so bad. For him, for Kurt. They have a great thing going on. Camaraderie, cohabitation, friendship. After everything they went through, just this level of intimacy is undreamed of and it should be enough. He shouldn't let this condition of Kurt's change anything about their relationship, since there's no way it could end well.

But it's every night now, and impossible to resist. He tries, thinks about locking up his room every night after he's wished Kurt a good night. His hand pauses on the doorknob, plays with it, then inevitably lets it as it is, closed but not locked.

It's a matter of an hour, sometimes less, before he hears the steps in the hallway coming from Kurt's room, pausing for a few seconds then heading towards his door.

He holds his breath during that precise moment. The reasonable side of his brain prays that this is the night Kurt will wake up on his own, realizes he's in front of Dave's room and turn around. The stupid, irrational, bad one wishes for the same thing but with an ending that still has Kurt walking into his bedroom.

He gets part of his wish. Kurt always gets in, slowly, walks up to his bed and crawls under the covers. Always. He sneaks under the comforter, kicks the sheets until he can fit under them. His hands snake around Dave's waist, his chin rests on the edge of Dave's shoulder. And when the first deep, relieved breath is taken and exhaled on Dave's nape… He's done for.

He closes his eyes, his hand covers Kurt's and he gives up pretending it's not the best feeling in the world, having Kurt spoon him like this. A closeness he relishes for a little while. Still careful, he only allows himself to stay in that in-between state for an hour or so, listening to Kurt's relaxed breathing. On the lookout for any kind of escalation but after that one time, Kurt never takes it further than cuddling. So it's okay, he figures, to enjoy it. Then he extricates himself from the warmth and Kurt's embrace and gently guides him out of this bed and into Kurt's.

It's not like Kurt is making it easy either, unconsciously. He whines and mumbles protests, sometimes ridiculous ones, sometimes very appropriate one that are hitting it on the head. Dave has to ignore it all steadfastly and just walk him to the other side of the hallway. But then… Even there it's not over, Kurt claws and tugs at Dave's shirt like it's a lifeline.

One night Kurt even succeeds in making Dave fall over him and it's a miracle he manages to get back up and out of Kurt's room. He can't forget the resounding and pleading No! that Kurt yells then. He tells himself it means nothing.

Every night, the same dance. Every night it takes more and more internal pep talk to untangle Kurt's arm, to pretend to not hear him and to let him sleep alone. No, to make him sleep alone.

Sometimes he dares hoping. That Kurt wants to sleep with him, touch him, be with him. That it's the reason he comes to him, it's his subconscious acting on repressed desires.

It's dangerous, painful even to imagine it but… It's every night. How could he not at least take it into consideration? It… Maybe it's not really such a stretch. In the dark of the night, curled up in his bed that now smells more like Kurt's cologne than his own, he dares to hope.

…

Then every morning it's dashed, because Kurt is his happy, blissfully unaware, friendly self. Every morning Dave beats himself over the head for even thinking it could be any different. Every morning he becomes more withdrawn and quiet. Every morning Kurt teases him about it. It's done with good intentions, it's harmless, yet it hurts him. But he can't blame Kurt for that part.

…

It's a cold night of January, their first one back in the apartment after the holidays spent back home. No homework for Dave, the semester hasn't started yet. No audition for Kurt, it's the dead, post-holiday season. So really there's no reason for Dave to be up at one in the morning, tossing and turning in his bed. Most of all there is no reason for Kurt to be stressed and sleepwalk into Dave's room. Yet he's doing it, feet shuffling on the floor, eyes blurry and unfocused, hands doing the routine of pushing the door open and lifting the sheets.

"Mmm, yes," Kurt moans, fingers snaking around Dave's waist. This time they slide further, under his shirt and across his stomach that twitches under the caress.

It's definitely a caress. Nails scraping ever so gently, fingers relaxing and flexing through the wispy hairs of his chest. Kurt's hand settles over his heart, delicately, and rubs smooth circles, every other second.

Dave resists turning around and facing Kurt, but that takes up all his resolve and none is left to get out of bed and drag Kurt away. No strength remains either, not when soft kisses are peppered on his nape. It evades him and he can't help the moan of appreciation that escapes his lips, the way his eyes close to enjoy it all.

With such a mindset and setting, it's inevitable that he falls asleep, along with Kurt.

…

Dave's window is oriented to the west, so the light that filters through the blinds is a pale, diffused one. It wakes Dave first, slowly.

He blinks a couple of times. First blink, he sees the neutral pattern of his comforter. Second blink, lower, shows him his hand covered by Kurt's.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

There is no other word in Dave's frantic, suddenly very awake mind. Kurt cannot have spent the night in his bed. No. It just can't be real.

But he has Kurt's warm body plastered against his back, all too real to be ignored.

He knew it could happen but it never did and… He got comfortable. And now it's morning, it's too late to bring Kurt back to his bed without waking him up.

Shit.

While his mind is going a thousand miles an hour, he fights to keep his body still, long enough to find a solution, an explanation, an exit strategy.

"Hum, hello." Kurt's voice is thick with sleep, lazy and low and it sends a spike of arousal down Dave's spine.

Well, there goes any hope of getting away with his mistake. He stifles a groan and futilely tries to will his erection away. Not the time or the place or the person, regardless of what he feels or how it would look like on the outside.

"I'm… This isn't my bed."

Dave swallows, hard, and lets out a careful breath. "No. Well…"

"I sleepwalked into your bed or we did something I don't remember?" Kurt asks, his voice both uncertain and light.

It gives Dave an ounce of strength. Kurt doesn't seem to mind, or panicked. In fact his hand is still over Dave's, it might even be caressing it very gently.

"Just slept, don't worry." There's the overwhelming urge to say more, to tell it all. It's Kurt, probably his best friend. Of course he wants to confess about the nights all of them. They share so much nowadays, honesty is the way to go.

Yet he finds his throat dry, his palms sweaty, his heart rabbiting and no words coming out. Because it's Kurt. The source of thousands of frustrating fantasies during his high school years. His bitter regret of later years, when they lost touch before they could even really connect, when they met again and he was with Blaine. Kurt, the guy he fell in love with, against all odds and all reason. He can't tell him he spent dozens of nights enjoying his presence in his bed, albeit for a short time. It'll ruin everything.

"I'm not worried," Kurt whispers.

Dave holds his breath. He's imagining this, Kurt's fingers squeezing his hand, the small, relaxed exhales on his skin. When he feels the unmistakable press of gentle lips on the curve of his shoulder, he knows he's dreaming.

"I know I'm perfectly safe here. And I'm glad I'm awake for this." Kurt is a mere whisper but at this range it's a cacophony in Dave's ears.

It's impossible. He must be dreaming.

"Is this…"

Kurt kisses his shoulder again. Kisses. His. Shoulder.

"Is this okay?" Kurt murmurs on his skin. Dave can feel the drag of a plump bottom lip, the tingling scrape of sharp teeth along his muscle.

"It's…" Unreal, a dream, better than that, impossible. "Perfect," Dave breathes out. "Jesus Christ, Kurt…" A full body shiver prevents him from saying anything else. All he can do is stretch like a cat under Kurt's caress, his body following the touch as it goes from his chest to his stomach, up and down, more and more intimate.

"Great. I wasn't…" Kurt inhales deeply, creating a cool spot on Dave's skin and renewed shivers. "I wasn't sure if you'd be on board with…" He kisses Dave's shoulder blade and stays there. "Changing us, I guess."

"Kurt I…" It's not that easy, to find words or focus when he has Kurt 's mouth driving him crazy. Yet with a sharp breath and some serious concentration skills he does calm down enough to reassure Kurt. "I've been in love with you, one way or another, for years. Now…" he pauses for a moan impossible to suppress when Kurt's tongue darts out, "is the perfect time to change us," he confesses.

"Really?" Kurt asks, a tiny tremble in his voice.

Dave can hear the doubts and wonderings in Kurt's tone, the same ones that are going through his mind, despite what he said.

Isn't their history too heavy, and complicated, for them to go down that road? After high school, the bullying, the forgiveness, the separation, Blaine, everything… Isn't it already beyond reason that they're friends and roommates? To move into lovers, live-in boyfriends (because let's be real this could never be a no strings attached thing or a simple friends with benefits situation), isn't it unwise, dangerous even?

Between what he wants and what is the sensible course of action, there is a world and a lifetime they should both consider.

But then Kurt breathes out in relief and his hand dips under Dave's waistline. "Thank God, because I love you too." The kisses on his neck become more urgent, harder to resist. "I've been… I think I've been falling for you for a long time now."

"This better not be a dream…"

"Why would it be?" Kurt whispers. "You've been amazing to me. Not just since we moved in but even before that, back in Lima. When you had no reason to be this kind, you always looked out for me. You're still looking out for me. I thought I… I thought we were just friends, at last."

Kurt pauses and the silence would weigh on Dave, if it wasn't for the gentle motion of Kurt's mouth on his shoulder, slow and steady and loving.

"Then I would look at you and you'd be looking back at me and… Your eyes, David. So much care there, and I would feel so safe, so… Right, just looking at you. It wasn't just friendship. Maybe I wasn't ready to accept it. But I walked here, into your arms, instinctively. And now…" he hooks his chin over Dave's shoulder. Without turning his head, Dave can see, or rather hear, Kurt's smile.

"It's like I'm where I should be. No?"

Dave, throat tight and hands trembling, finds it in him to nod and cover Kurt's hand with his. "It is."

…

Kurt notices it first. They would go to bed together, of course, or meet the other in bed if one was delayed. Sometimes Kurt's bed, sometimes Dave's. Whichever they would choose they would still lock the door, out of a conditioned reflex, just to be on the safe side.

But there isn't any incident. Dave doesn't wake up from the bed being suddenly empty to find Kurt rattling the doorknob to scare off snakes or looking through the drawers for a wrench. All of which happened before they got together.

No, they simply sleep, all through the night. Granted some (most) nights there's some action in the sheets but once they're done and spent it's nothing but peaceful slumber, at worst some light snoring.

A month after, when it's truly the new routine, Kurt brings it up between two sips of cappuccino while lounging on the couch.

"I haven't sleepwalked since our first night, you know."

"Really?" Dave looks up from his phone and the sports results, pensive. "I think you're right. Can't remember finding you in a weird spot lately. That's nice." He opens his arm to Kurt, who accepts the cuddle invitation at once. "You think it's the stress that went away?"

"Since the schedule is more hectic than ever? No, definitely not."

Dave hums, deep in thought.

"Something must have switched it off for you though."

The silence stretches to the point where Dave returns to his phone screen, thinking the topic paused for now. Although his thumb still rubs sweet circles on Kurt's shoulder.

"You know," Kurt says at last, nosing at the tender spot behind Dave's ear, "when I was younger my dad would find me in the attic, most nights. Just buried under my mother's clothes. It was my comfort, my security blanket, what I needed, instinctively. My father put my room there for a while and just like that I stopped wandering around. I had what I was looking for."

"And?" Dave puts his phone down, more interested.

"I guess you must be what I crave nowadays," Kurt tells him.

Simple as that, an effortless confession. That was them now, unbelievable as it seems.

"I guess so," Dave says, a more genuine smile making its way to his lips. "Who would have thought, right?"

"I did. And you, well you hoped."

He can't say Kurt has it wrong. So he kisses him, saying you're right and I love you with one easy gesture.