Lil' 5x15 reaction fic I wrote because why not. Spoilers, etc.
There's Someone on Your Side
He's not worried about overcrowding Kurt anymore. In fact, he can't really bring himself to care how Kurt feels about it. Every moment that he can be, he's at Kurt's side. On the way to school, during class, at lunch, on to the diner, back home. Kurt needs groceries, Blaine's there. Kurt's runs out of coffee beans in the morning and needs to stop by their new Lima Bean, Blaine's there. Kurt breathes, Blaine's there.
He's all but moved back in at this point. He spends about five nights a week at the loft, not sleeping. He watches Kurt breathe as the moon rises and falls, seeing the gashes that, much to Kurt's dismay, didn't scar even a little before they healed over weeks ago. Kurt's worried about him, says he worries too much, but Kurt doesn't get it. Kurt didn't get that phone call, some polite but clinical woman at the hospital who is sorry to inform him that his fiancé was brought in after some kind of attack. Kurt still doesn't know that Blaine collapsed, that Sam had to haul him to his feet and force his coat onto his shoulders before shoving him out the door. Blaine swore him to secrecy.
And Sam, for his part, keeps trying to get Blaine to go out, to do something fun, just the two of them, and maybe Artie. Get Blaine's mind off of Kurt and give Kurt some breathing room. Blaine doesn't budge. He just doesn't care. He screwed up once, he's not doing it again.
Kurt snaps, of course, because Kurt's Kurt. It's two weeks of this, two weeks of Blaine all but glued to Kurt's hip. He walks out of one of the two classes he doesn't share with Blaine to find his fiancé waiting with an admittedly cute smile and an admittedly needed cup of coffee. He takes both with a kiss, but when Blaine starts to talk about skipping a meeting with a professor to walk him home, he says, "Blaine, you can't do that."
"Oh don't worry," Blaine laughs, "I've already talked to Professor Thomas about it, he said it's fine—"
"Blaine, it's just a subway ride home, I'm going to be fine."
Blaine makes a face. "Kurt, I'm going to walk you home."
"Why, because you think I can't take care of myself?" The words come out just a tad sharper than Kurt had intended, but it's too late now. "In case you forgot, Blaine, I saved that guy's life that night, so I think I can make my way back home without your help."
Blaine's eyes flash. "Okay, one? That's not what I meant at all, and you know it. Two? You may have saved someone's life and that is really impressive and totally hot but you still had your head bashed in with a brick, so forgive me if I'm concerned for your safety."
"You can't follow me everywhere, Blaine!" Kurt's vaguely aware that they're yelling in the middle of a hallway, and NYADA students are many things, but discreet is not one of them. "You've been hovering around me for two weeks and it needs to stop! This is why you moved out in the first place!"
"I'm sorry you're uncomfortable, Kurt, but you know what else is uncomfortable? Thinking your fiancé is dead!"
"You need to move on Blaine! It's over, I'm okay, time to move past this! You told me that I don't have to let them make me a victim, Blaine, do you remember that?"
"I—of course I remember that! You think I think you're a victim?" The words are pouring out now and maybe Blaine should take like half a second to think this through but he can't because he's angry and he's scared and he just can't. "Kurt, you're not a victim, you're the bravest person I have ever met and if I die doing something half as heroic as what you did that night I will feel like my life meant something. But I wasn't heroic that night, I was sitting at home with Sam talking about—talking about—god, Star Wars fanfiction of all things, while you were lying in a pool of blood next to the brick that nearly killed you, because I wasn't there. I wasn't there to stop you and I wasn't there to save you and if you think there is a chance in hell I am going to let that happen again then you don't really know me, Kurt Hummel. You are absolutely everything to me and I'll be damned if you get hurt again on my watch."
His chest his heaving at the end, and there's a good chance he just shouted all that right into Kurt's stunned face. He opens his mouth to begin the longest apology ever when Kurt shuts it with his own lips, books abandoned on the floor and arms tugging him in close. He's shocked, brain scrambling to figure out why he's not in a whole lot of trouble right now. He's also suddenly, acutely aware of the crowd that's gathered around them, the crowd that's cheering as Kurt's hand settles dangerously close to his ass.
"You," Kurt breathes, "are an idiot."
"I know."
"Come with me."
Kurt gathers his books, grabs Blaine's hand, and drags him through the spectators—"Honestly, get your own drama."—and into a tiny practice room. "Blaine, what happened that night was not your fault."
"I—I know that—"
"No I don't think you do. I think you blame yourself for not being there, which is absurd for a number of reasons."
"I don't suppose you'd care to list them for me."
"Number one—"
"Oh god."
"Number one, you weren't supposed to be with me that night. I was having dinner with Rachel, and only Rachel. You were even invited."
"Not exactly making me feel better—"
"Number two, even if you were still living in the loft, you can't be with me at all times. That's highly impractical and, as we've discovered, not good for our relationship.
"Number three, if you had been there, I still would have gone into that alley, which brings me to number four." He squeezes Blaine's hand tightly and rests their foreheads together. "If you had been there, you would have charged down that alleyway first. You would have ripped those assholes off of that guy and you would have tried to protect me at the same time. You know why?"
Blaine sniffles a little. "Because I'm an idiot?"
Kurt sets his books on a shelf and brings his free hand up to Blaine's cheeks. "Because you are the bravest person I have ever met, Blaine Anderson. You are strong and kind and selfless and beautiful and wonderful. And for those very reasons, I am glad you were not there that night. I think I would be broken forever if I had to see those men hurt you."
Blaine kisses him desperately, painfully, the fingers of one hand tangling in his hair while those of the other squeeze tighter and tighter. All the anxiety and terror of the past few weeks is starting to melt away, slowly, as he begins to let go.
He thinks of what Sam said in the hospital, though, how he wanted to kill the people who hurt Kurt. That was a certainty for Blaine. If he ever found the black truck that drove away while Kurt lay bleeding on the concrete, he would light it on fire.
Hopefully with its occupants still inside.
"C'mon," Kurt whispers when they break apart. "Let me walk you home. I'm thinking a stop at the bakery first?"
"Yeah," Blaine breathes, eyes closed. "Sounds good."
Tumblr is nothingbutgoneness.