Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.
Written for a prompt by whynobritneybrittany: "It doesn't appear that Kurt's ring is on. […] I can imagine him waking up and not having it on and freaking out, worrying if it was taken and wanting it back immediately, etc. Blaine having to step in and pull it out from his pocket or something and be like, "The second they say you can have it back, it's yours. But you didn't lose it. It's okay."
"Where is it?"
Blaine's still foggy from sleep when he hears the slightly raspy inquiry. He doesn't even remember drifting off, but he must have because his vision is a little blurry when he blinks and lifts his head, a noncommittal "What?" slipping past his lips.
"The ring, where's – where's my ring, Blaine?"
"Ku – Kurt, honey, hey, stop. Stop," he chides because Kurt's struggling to sit up and Kurt can't sit up yet, the doctors haven't given him permission and Blaine knows hospital rules like the back of his hand. He can't stand to see Kurt in a hospital bed, but if the doctor wants him there then he needs to stay there until they say otherwise, and so he dares to put his hands gently on Kurt's shoulders when he tries to lurch upright, making a sickening noise of pain in the back of his throat and – "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I'm sorry, I just –"
He retracts his hands as though burned, horrified at the notion that he could cause Kurt any more pain (the thought that Kurt is in any pain at all makes his throat feel tight and his eyes burn), but Kurt doesn't seem to notice. "Where's my ring?" he asks, reaching up to grab Blaine's head when he starts to shake it, capturing his attention between electric blue eyes. He looks ready to maim, fierce underneath his own fatigue, and Blaine has to swallow to keep himself from babbling, I don't know, I can check, I –
And then it hits him and he almost slumps against Kurt's chest in relief as he says, "I have it."
Kurt blinks once. Twice. Licks his lips, winces, and Blaine makes an involuntary noise of sympathy, a little choking murmur as he presses a kiss to Kurt's unbruised temple and repeats, "I have it, it's in my pocket, it's fine." You're fine, he thinks, but he can't say it because Kurt isn't, he's hurt and he's in a hospital bed and Blaine wasn't there and it twists in his gut like a knife.
If he had been at that dinner, then Kurt wouldn't have been alone on his walk home. No one could have stopped him from charging in to save that other guy, but Blaine could have tried, he could have helped.
He should have been there, should have known that something was wrong before a nurse called him to tell him that his fiancé was in the hospital.
Kurt shifts a little underneath him, left hand sliding up to tug at the curls near the base of Blaine's neck while his other hand settles at his side. For a moment, they're silent, caught in the stillness of darkness and wandering time. Blaine doesn't even know how late it is. He doesn't care how late it is. He would give up sleep forever if it meant that he could kiss the bruises away. Resting his forehead against Kurt's pillow as his fingers rest comfortingly against the back of his neck, he murmurs, "I have it. It's okay."
Kurt hums, a soft affirmation almost lost in the constant ticking of the heart-rate monitor. Blaine hates it, even though he knows how vital it is, promising him with each mechanical beep that Kurt's alive, Kurt's alive, Kurt's alive. He wants to cradle Kurt in his arms and shield him from everyone that would dare to hurt him (including Rachel because how dare she leave him alone; his stomach twists with guilt a moment later because he knows it isn't fair, none of it's fair), but he knows how strong Kurt is, how proud Kurt is, how easily he can stand up and dust himself off again and still smile at the world.
The world can't touch Kurt. But it can take him from Blaine, and that terrifies him.
"Sorry, I just – I thought maybe they might have taken it." Kurt's breath comes out on a shaky sigh as he lets his left hand slip away, resting carefully on the bed beside him. "I know it's silly, I just –"
"It's not silly," Blaine says at once.
He can almost feel Kurt's lips twitch with a tiny smile. It fades once he tilts his head with a tiny, almost imperceptible groan and asks, "Can you – water. Please."
"Of course." Blaine slips away from Kurt reluctantly, carefully climbing over the railing and retrieving a Dixie cup full of fresh water in a matter of seconds. "Slow," he warns, and Kurt's lips twitch in another half-smile as his eyes flick sleepily up to Blaine's before he nods and regally allows Blaine to bring the cup to his lips.
It's strange how Blaine can't qualify Kurt's position as fragile even though he's tethered to an IV line and a heart monitor and draped in a hideous hospital gown. There's just something about Kurt that makes his own heart race with a terror and pride because nothing, nothing can break him, which makes his existence a challenge to the universe.
Break me. Do it. I dare you. Nothing that you throw at me, nothing that you do to me can break me. I won't let you.
Blaine admires him because he is courageous, but it terrifies him that one day the universe will win.
When Kurt tugs meaningfully on his sleeve, he sets the paper cup aside and climbs back onto the bed beside him, wrapping an arm carefully around Kurt's stomach. Kurt's right hand drifts to rest on top of it, thumb stroking against slow sweeps against his skin.
They don't speak for a long time, soaking in each other's presence. Blaine's halfway asleep, so tired, but then Kurt clears his throat a little and asks, voice husky with exhaustion, "Why'd they take my ring?"
Blaine rubs his thumb over Kurt's wrist, the only part of his skin near his hands that isn't raw or scraped, and explains softly, "They were worried about swelling. It's fine, once your, um. Once the scrapes heal a little more, you should be able to wear it."
On a whim, startled that he didn't think of it sooner, Blaine fishes the ring out of his pocket, holding it up so Kurt can see it. He doesn't expect him to reach up and take it gently between two fingers, turning it over slowly, but he lets Kurt curl his fist around it, guarding it temporarily.
"You know, I don't care if I have a scar," Kurt admits, and it's so surprising that Blaine has to sit up and look at him. "I'm serious," Kurt insists, meeting Blaine's gaze steadily. "I don't. I kind of want one."
"Kurt," Blaine says, hoping to snap him out of his daze. Kurt's skin is perfect, unblemished and soft and even aside from a different scar along his neck. He can't fathom why he would want a scar, something ugly and sinister to remind himself and the world of what happened.
"I don't care if I have a scar," he repeats, "but I need this." His expression softens as he opens his fist and examines the ring on his palm before handing it back to Blaine after a long, thoughtful pause. "I need you," he adds more firmly.
"I'm here," Blaine replies, tucking himself against Kurt's side as soon as the ring is safely stowed away in his pocket because nothing is more important than Kurt. "I'm here as long as you need me. As long as you want me."
Kurt lets out a long sigh, his eyelids flickering shut and Blaine rubs circles against his hip. "Thank you," he breathes.
"Of course," Blaine murmurs, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "I love you so much."
Another small smile curls Kurt's lips as he echoes simply, "Love you, too."
Kurt's asleep in minutes, breathing deepening out as the heart rate monitor ticks on, beep-beep-beep, a slow steady thrum that tapers on the edge of Blaine's thoughts.
Blaine doesn't fall asleep at once, instead peeling the ring out of his pocket again and staring it through half-lidded eyes for a time. They wouldn't have let him stay overnight if it wasn't for that ring and what it symbolized – the papers that they signed specifically for this type of situation, emergency contacts and clearances that seemed so rigidly pessimistic at the time but feel like breathing room now.
He can breathe with Kurt beside him, and knowing that Kurt is hurt but still whole comforts him as he pockets the ring again.
Kurt will wear it again soon enough, and once he's back on his feet, they'll go looking for one for Blaine, too. Not because they have something to prove or because it'll allow him to be there when Kurt needs him.
Because he needs it, too.
He needs Kurt, and as he holds him close and promises to never, ever, ever let anyone touch him, he slips into a gentle, dreamless sleep.