A/N: Hello again! I hate waiting for the next chapter of my favorite stories. Apparently, I'm not good at waiting to post the next chapter of my own story, either.

Chapter 2: How to Take Care of a Hero

Blaine couldn't help but smirk at his companion's attitude. While all he really wanted was to go home, he was grateful for the concern being shown to him by a complete stranger. However, he really needed to end this and get home before he passed out or worse, before this stranger could learn his real identity.

"I thank you for your help, um," he faltered.

"Kurt," his companion supplied.

"I thank you for your help, Kurt, but I'll be fine now," he said in his best Nightbird voice, pulling away and proudly standing on his own. Well, for a few seconds at least until a wave of dizziness overtook him and he swayed once more. He felt the strong, lean arms catch him as he raised his hand to his throbbing head.

"Look," Kurt sighed. "If you won't let me call you an ambulance, would you at least let me take you to my apartment?"

Blaine looked sharply at Kurt and raised an eyebrow, which Kurt couldn't see due to the mask, of course. Kurt caught his meaning nonetheless.

"No, no, no," he hurried, "I didn't mean it like that." If Blaine had to guess, he'd say that Kurt was blushing. He wished he could see for sure.

"I just want to make sure you are all right. I can bandage you up or give you an aspirin or something. I can't just send you on your way. Not in this condition."

Blaine hesitated, and rightfully so. He'd been so careful all these months to remain a mystery. He was doing good for the city, and he wouldn't trade that for anything, but he needed to remain anonymous. He knew it was a bit of a cliché, but he wanted to maintain a "normal" life outside of being Nightbird, and that depended on absolute secrecy. However, the trembling in his knees, the stabbing pain in his shoulder and the dull ache in his head told him that Kurt was right. He was in no shape to make his way home under his own power. He couldn't risk his identity being uncovered by going for medical help or by letting Kurt see him home. There were no other options.

Looking again into Kurt's eyes, hoping that he wasn't wrong about the kindness he saw there, he relented with a quiet "Okay."

xoxoxo

Helping the masked man down the street and up to his loft apartment had been a bit awkward, but thankfully due to the lateness of the hour, they were able to make the trip unseen. Kurt slid open the heavy loft door and guided his guest inside. He walked him over to the kitchen table and seated him on one of the chairs before returning to the doorway to close and lock it. He paused at the door to take a deep breath and center himself. He wasn't sure exactly what he was doing, bringing this guy up to his apartment in the middle of the night, but it was too late to second-guess that decision now.

Turning on a couple of lights in the main part of the apartment, he returned to the kitchen area and turned on the light in that room as well. He now was able to get a good look at the superhero for the first time and despite his battered condition, lord, was he beautiful. Black, wavy hair styled back from his face gave way to a strong jawline and mouth. Even though half of his face was hidden by a mask, his most remarkable feature still stood out strongly. Large, golden-hazel eyes sparkled in the kitchen lights and took Kurt's breath away. What was even more remarkable was that those honey-colored eyes seemed mesmerized by looking into Kurt's own.

Kurt broke from his lapse in reality when those eyes flinched in pain. Right. He didn't bring this guy here to stare at him. He brought him here to help. Holding up a finger in a "wait a minute" gesture, Kurt quickly went to the bathroom to retrieve some first aid supplies, a washcloth and towel, and a few other things he thought he might need. He put the items on the table, then went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. Gentleman that he was, he also got a nice glass from the cabinet and poured the water into it before placing it in front of his guest, who thanked him politely before guzzling down half of it in one shot.

"Okay, then, Mister Nightbird, um, I mean…" Kurt paused and tilted his head before continuing. "This is silly. I can't call you that. Don't you have a first name?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Of course I do, but I can't tell you."

"Right, right. Secret superhero identity and all that." Kurt nodded. "I know," he continued brightly. "What's your first initial?"

"What?"

"Just the first initial. Not your whole name. I don't think I'll be able to figure out who you are by one letter."

The man at the table paused and took a long, slow breath in and out before answering, "B."

Kurt smiled sweetly. "Excellent. B it is then." He moved around the table and stood beside Blaine, turning him slightly in the chair and gently placing two fingers under his chin to turn his head. "Now, B, let's get a look at you."

Kurt nimbly traced over a couple of cuts on Blaine's chin, brushed his fingers along his hairline to check for bumps, and then worked his way around to look at the back of his head where Blaine had been rubbing earlier. He located a cut and a nasty lump there, as well, apologizing when Blaine winced at the touch.

"Okay, we can clean these up pretty easily, I think, then I can get you some ice for that bump." He saw Blaine nod in agreement before he continued his examination.

The other area he'd seen Blaine favoring was his left shoulder. Checking that out was going to prove a challenge, however. "Does this come off?" he asked, tugging on the fabric of the cape. He expected some resistance, but instead, Blaine reached up and indicated several fasteners that attached the garment to his collar. Kurt didn't miss the slight hiss as the man moved. He rested a hand lightly on his arm and softly said, "That's all right, B. I'll get it. Just relax."

Removing the cape and reverently draping it over the back of another chair, he returned to his patient. "I'll try not to hurt you, but I need to see what's going on here," he warned before touching the man. A few moments later, he determined that it was not dislocated, just badly bruised, judging by the welt he could feel there. He was startled when Blaine, who had been silent throughout the examination, suddenly spoke.

"Are you a doctor or something?"

"Hmm?"

He turned his head to look at Kurt this time. "You seem to know what you're looking for," he continued.

"Oh," Kurt answered. "No, not a doctor. A musical theater student at NYADA and waiter at the Spotlight Diner, but not a doctor." He turned his attention to the first aid kit and began to gather the items he'd need to clean the cuts he'd located. "Let's just say that as the only out gay kid at an Ohio high school, I developed pretty decent first aid skills. You get thrown up against lockers and into dumpsters enough, you learn how to deal with cuts and bruises."

He'd said it matter-of-factly, having worked through much of the emotional baggage once he'd left that part of his life behind. He was unprepared for the look of shock and sadness in Blaine's eyes when he turned back toward him.

"That's terrible, Kurt," he said quietly.

Kurt gave him a small smile. "I'm good now," he replied, then quickly changed the subject, beginning a running commentary of his treatment of Blaine's injuries.

He cleaned up the various cuts and scrapes he found, asking Blaine to remove his gloves after seeing one of them torn and adding treatment of his bruised knuckles to his ministrations. He asked Blaine what exactly had happened in that alley, gasping and making appropriate sympathetic comments as he described the crime he had thwarted and the confrontation that had ensued.

Returning to treat the lump at the back of his skull, Kurt parted Blaine's hair to clean the wound, but found that the strap of the hero's mask was in the way. "I really can't clean this properly with this strap here, B," he said, his fingers running across and trying to figure out how to unfasten it. He was halted when Blaine pulled away sharply.

"No!" he exclaimed, turning to face Kurt whose eyes had widened in surprise.

Then it hit Kurt what he had been about to do, and he clapped his hand across his mouth. "Oh, I am so sorry!" he said, shaking his head. "I didn't even think – I wasn't trying to…oh, B. I'm sorry."

Blaine, having recovered his composure, gave Kurt a small smile. "No, Kurt. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that. It's just that me being this," he swept his hand from head to foot, "depends upon no one knowing who I really am."

"Of course, of course, B. I understand," Kurt soothed, stepping back to his patient and resting a hand on his shoulder. He fleetingly wondered why he kept feeling the need to touch the man. He wasn't normally so tactile. "How about this," he offered. "You hold the mask on in front, and I'll undo the clasp just long enough to clean up that cut. Then I'll reattach it and your identity will be intact."

"Wow," Blaine said with a smirk. "Helpful, handsome, and smart." He turned around before he could see Kurt's jaw drop.

Once the head wound was taken care of, Kurt got a couple of ice packs from the freezer and took Blaine by the elbow. "Come on," he said, helping Blaine to his feet and leading him over to the couch in the living room. "You'll be more comfortable here." He ignored Blaine's protestations that he could walk the few feet on his own, and held onto Blaine's arm until he was seated again. He placed one larger ice pack on his shoulder before instructing him to lean back, and handed him the other one for the back of his head. He propped a pillow behind him so that Blaine wouldn't have to hold that pack in place, either. He even brought over a foot stool and propped up Blaine's feet before standing back and nodding.

"If I'd known I was going to be this pampered, I'd have gotten my ass kicked a long time ago," Blaine quipped, staring intently at Kurt, who blushed fiercely before sitting down on the couch next to him.

"It's not pampering," Kurt argued, though his tone was soft, "I'm just making sure you're okay. You took quite the beating. You might have a concussion, even," he said, adjusting the ice pack which had shifted when Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt.

"I should probably go soon," Blaine said, though his voice was a little sleepy and his eyes were beginning to droop as he settled in to the comfortable couch.

"Yeah, you look ready to hit the road," Kurt mocked. Blaine could feel his eyes getting heavier. He'd had a rough night, and the adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him completely drained.

He saw Kurt tilt his head and smile at him. "You poor thing, you're exhausted," he said, almost as if he thought Blaine couldn't hear him. "I can't let you sleep for too long, just in case you do have a concussion, but you've got to get some rest." Blaine's eyes had fallen shut, and he felt a movement on the couch next to him before feeling the ice packs slide out from behind his head and shoulder.

"There," Kurt's soothing voice drifted above him. "That's better." He felt a warm, soft blanket cover him. "I'm afraid I'll have to wake you up in a couple hours, but you just get some rest for now." He didn't hear Kurt make himself a cup of coffee or settle back on the couch next to him with a book.

xoxoxo

It had been past three o'clock in the morning when Blaine had fallen asleep, and so a little after five, Kurt reluctantly woke him. If he took a few minutes to admire the handsome man dozing on his couch, and if he perhaps brushed a gentle hand along his forehead to sweep away a stray curl or delicately trace the outline of his mask, who was really to say. Using the same technique he'd employed in the alley a few hours earlier, he stroked Blaine's cheek with his thumb, quietly calling his name (well, his initial) to wake him gently.

"B…come on, B. Time to wake up."

The man shifted, unconsciously nuzzling his face into Kurt's touch momentarily. Kurt removed his hand, not wanting to get caught in a potentially embarrassing position. He smiled as Blaine opened his golden eyes, thankful that he'd woken up easily and hadn't had any issues due to the blow to his head. "I'm so sorry, but I had to wake you. Do you want to go back to sleep some more?" he asked.

Blinking his eyes sleepily, Blaine mumbled, "Mmmm. W'timeisit?" Kurt melted at how adorable this guy was when sleepy. Before he could respond, Blaine's eyes flew open wide and he jolted upright, temporarily startled and trying to remember where he was. He looked around frantically, then looked back at Kurt and it all came back to him. He sighed and lay back once again, taking a few deep breaths to wake himself up properly. "Hi," he finally greeted Kurt with a smile.

"Hey there," Kurt returned. "To answer your question, it's almost half-past five. How are you feeling?"

Blaine stretched a little, working out the kinks from sleeping upright on the couch as well as the soreness from his altercation. "Like I got hit by a truck, but otherwise, okay." He looked over at Kurt and took in the coffee cup on the table and the book lying open beside him. "Have you slept at all, Kurt?" he asked.

"No."

"Kurt," Blaine admonished, sitting a bit more upright on the couch and turning toward his host. "You didn't have to stay up. I'm fine," he shook his head and reached out a hand to cover Kurt's, which was resting on the cushion between them. "I'm so sorry. You must be exhausted."

Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, trying to disguise his inside self who was joyful because Blaine was holding his hand. "That's why they invented caffeine. Besides, I needed to make sure to wake you up in case you had a concussion and I wanted to be here in case you needed anything." He thrilled as Blaine's hand tightened around his. "How would it look if something bad happened to the city's hero on my watch?"

Blaine huffed out a laugh, patted Kurt's hand and released it. "I really do owe you, Kurt. I can't think of how to repay you, but I probably should get going," he rose slowly from the couch at those words, stretching again.

Kurt blushed at the thoughts that crossed his mind as he watched Blaine stretch in his form-fitting black shirt and pants. Not wanting to get caught staring, he shifted his gaze toward the window and instantly noticed something.

"Uh, B?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Look." Kurt pointed toward the window. It took Blaine a second before he understood Kurt's meaning. He walked toward the window and peered out through the blinds. "Crap," he muttered.

The pre-dawn sky was beginning to lighten. Soon the sun would rise, taking away the cover of darkness in which Blaine usually traveled.

"You'll never make it home dressed like that," Kurt said as he rose from the couch and crossed the room to stand beside Blaine. "But," he added with a hint of mischief, "I think I may have a solution."

A few minutes later, Kurt walked out of his room with an armful of items. "Here," he said, putting them on the couch beside Blaine, who'd returned there at Kurt's behest. Blaine looked down to find a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, a hoodie and, best of all, a somewhat large, dark pair of sunglasses.

"Not exactly going to get you on a Paris runway, but it should do for the incognito hero-about-town." Blaine looked up at him with a grin of admiration.

"Like I said, helpful, handsome, and smart." He was grateful that he was facing Kurt this time and got to see the adorable blush that rose at the compliment.

Clearing his throat, Kurt continued. "You can go in there and change," he said, pointing toward a door which Blaine took to be the bathroom. "You can even lock the door if you want, B," he offered, wanting to make it clear that he wasn't trying to learn the man's identity.

With a smile of thanks, Blaine gathered up the items and headed for the bathroom. He emerged a short time later, hood up, glasses on, and carrying his costume in his arms. Kurt was ahead of him once again, taking the items from him and placing them in a duffel bag on the kitchen table. "Here, I already folded your cape and put it in there. The rest of your costume should fit in here nicely." He zipped the bag shut and handed it to Blaine, looking him up and down.

"Well," he said, cocking his head to one side, "no one will recognize you as Nightbird. They might think you're a mad bomber, wearing a hood and glasses and carrying a duffel bag. Just try not to look too shifty."

Blaine laughed aloud, and Kurt thought he'd never heard anything more sexy in his life.

With a glance to the clock behind Kurt, Blaine put the bag down and walked over to stand in front of him. "Kurt," he began, all laughter gone, "I know I said it before, but I really don't know how to thank you enough. I don't know what would have happened to me in that alley if you hadn't found me and taken me in." He held out his hand to shake Kurt's. Kurt took it willingly, and the two stood for a few seconds before Kurt felt Blaine pull gently and release his hand before wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly.

Without hesitation, Kurt slid his arms around Blaine and returned the embrace, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder. "Thank you," Blaine whispered, his voice close to Kurt's ear.

"You're welcome," Kurt whispered back.

They parted and looked at each other for one more long moment before Blaine stepped back, picked up the bag, and headed for the door with Kurt following behind.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine said, his voice slightly husky.

"Take care of yourself," Kurt answered, his hand on the open sliding door for support.

With a smile and a small wave, Blaine turned and walked down the hall. Kurt watched until he rounded the corner and headed down the staircase before sliding the door closed again. Exhausted, he headed for his bedroom then stopped short. "Dammit!" he exclaimed aloud. "I didn't give him my number!"