For as long as Blaine could remember, he had wanted wings. Not because he wanted to fly, but for protection. His dad was a doctor, and made sure Blaine knew, in no uncertain terms, that being a bird was not a realistic career aspiration.
Still, sometimes he dreamed of it. Of having a giant wingspan and incredible strength. Then, when he was a freshman - for a second - he'd thought the dream was about to come true. Because as he lay, beaten on the pavement, the only thing that gave him any comfort was the thought of flying somewhere so far away that he wouldn't have to hurt like this anymore.
He kept his fascination with wings private. He studied them in pictures and on costumes at Halloween. If a butterfly ever landed on him, Blaine always felt incredibly lucky. Like something sacred had shared itself with him. He didn't see the insect, only the wings.
One day, after Kurt and the rest of the seniors graduated, they were hanging out at Sugar's family's cabin. It seemed too rustic for her tastes, but Sugar surprised everyone, water skiing and wakeboarding like a professional. He was relaxing in the sun, while Kurt sought the shade of a tree nearby to protect his fair skin from a nasty sunburn.
"Do you ever wish that you could just fly away?" Blaine asked absently. Quietly. Belatedly, he kind of hoped Kurt hadn't heard him. The only conversation he had ever had on this subject had ended badly. Maybe, some dreams were best kept private.
But Kurt's voice came, quiet and certain from nearby. "Of course."
"Me, too," Blaine replied unnecessarily. "Away from all the pressure and everything holding us back, and tying us down here. I just want to be free, you know?"
"Yes," Kurt answered, and Blaine knew he did know.
Blaine finally slipped his sunglasses on and made his way to sit with Kurt in the shade. Ever since he had admitted - in front of Miss Pillsbury no less - that he liked Blaine with a little color, he enjoyed relaxing in the sun a little bit extra.
He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the difference in light. Blaine sighed. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"You can tell me anything."
"You won't laugh?"
"I'll try my best," Kurt said honestly.
"I love wings," Blaine confided in a whisper.
"Like, chicken wings?" Kurt asked, confused.
"Like, real wings," Blaine admitted. "I used to go to sleep hoping that I'd grow some when I was asleep at night."
"Because you wanted to fly…" Kurt surmised, remembering Blaine's earlier comment. He threaded their fingers together, staring into Blaine's eyes.
Nodding, Blaine leaned in, kissing Kurt softly. "Thanks for getting this," he said honestly.
"Oh, I can do better than that," Kurt promised. "I have tons of old costumes at home, and I'm sure there are at least three sets of wings in there."
"But it's summer…" Blaine objected as Kurt cut him off with another kiss.
"So, what?"
"Realistic, right?" Blaine asked, between kisses.
"So realistic," Kurt promised.
"You know what else is realistic?" an unexpected voice asked from beyond the tree. "My child's desire to sit with Porcelain and What's-Your-Name while Mommy takes a swim."
Coach Sylvester placed her sleeping baby in Blaine's outstretched arms and made her way to the water, with Becky in tow.
"She's beautiful," Blaine breathed, bouncing the newborn gently.
"Hold on, hold on. I can't get you one of those." Kurt interjected comically. "You still want wings, right? Because wings I can do."
Blaine smiled. "Absolutely."
The End.
