Enjoy chapter 3. Thank you for all the comments and reviews far. They are always much appreciated.
xXx
It's about 3am when Mike finally manages to drag himself to the on-call room, landing face down on the bed. His body aches and his bones feel like stone and his eyes just want to close, but most of all he just wants to hear something that will make him feel better. There have been too many hours of blood and tears and the beeping of machines as he tried to stop a teenager from coding.
Pulling out his phone, he presses the screen without even really having to look and holds it to his ear as he snuggles against the pillows. It rings and rings and rings, and disappointment almost overwhelms him, when the ringing finally stops and he hears a small, sleepy voice on the other end.
"Mike?"
Relief crashes over him, and makes something weird squeeze at his heart. "Hey," he replies, not even caring how strained his voice sounds. He presses his fist against his eyes hard enough that he sees stars.
He can hear her shifting around, material and skin moving against each other. "It's late," she sounds surprised almost, but not annoyed, and he can imagine her rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist like a sleepy kitten. "Are you okay? Are you c-coming over?"
There's such hope in her voice that it makes his heart hurt, and he shakes his head even though he knows she can't see it. "I'm still at work. I just wanted to hear your voice." He can't help but be totally honest, because after the kind of day he's had…he just wants to talk to her. "I wish I was there with you."
There's a pause then, "I wish you were too," she replies, and her voice is slightly more awake but still very soft. "I m-missed you tonight."
He has to take a deep breath – in and out – until he feels his throat relax. "I miss you too."
She can obviously hear the strain in his voice but she doesn't comment – which he's grateful for because he doesn't want to have to explain or rethink everything that's happened over the past couple of hours – and instead she just makes a little sound like a purring cat and he can picture her snuggling into the pillows and pulling the covers around her body. "Kurt wants us to go f-for lunch with him and Blaine. He wants to v-vet you."
Mike laughs then, chuckling softly as he shifts on to his side and closes his eyes; trying to imagine that she's lying next to him instead of being five city blocks (and what feels like a thousand miles) away. "I'm not working Saturday," he tells her, feeling his eyes growing heavy. "Are they free then? I'd like to meet them too."
Because he's heard so much about Kurt and Blaine, and other than that first fateful meeting when Tina was bleeding and he still thought Blaine was her boyfriend and was trying to be professional and not just completely stare at her, he hasn't had a chance to talk to either man. And it's weird because he's spent so many nights in their apartment, and has used Kurt's shampoo for fuck's sake and drunk his expensive Jamaican blend coffee, but hasn't actually had a conversation with the guy.
"I'll ask," she replies sleepily, and he feels bad for waking her up because he knows she has work in the morning but damn, this is just what he needed; a moment of connection with another person. A moment where he can just breathe easy.
He can hear her shift on the bed again and she whimpers softly. "You okay?" he asks, concerned, because while she doesn't sound hurt, she sounds frustrated and it might just be the fact she's been forced awake in the middle of the night and guilt niggles at his stomach.
"I like it b-better when you wake me up with your hand up my shirt," she admits, and it's all he can do not to groan and think back a couple days to when he'd crawled into her bed; she'd been wearing the skimpiest pyjamas, and he hadn't been able to stop himself touching her and she'd woken up moaning his name.
He presses his hips into the mattress, fighting himself from physically responding to the memory because now reallyisn't the time and here reallyisn't the place. Not when he could be dragged out and back to work at any moment. "Oh God Tina, you have no idea how much I like that more than this," he breathes, and he can hear her laughing and then there's a sigh and his ears prick up because he knows that sound. "Tina…"
"Has anyone ever t-told you your voice is incredibly sexy?" she asks, and it's half-joking, half-serious; her voice is low and sleepy and punctuated with a moan.
He curses aloud in the quiet room. "Are you trying to kill me?" He squeezes his eyes shut trying to block out the sounds, but he realises that closing his eyes is worse because he's bombarded with images and memories of her and God,he wishes he was there with her right now.
"Trying to m-make you feel better," she corrects. "I could do a b-better job if you were here."
He's groaning then, keeping his free hand fisted in the scratchy, generic sheets because otherwise he knows he won't be able to stop himself jacking off furiously to the sound of her soft moans of his name. And that just isn't cool when he could be paged back at any second and other people have to use to room after him. "I feel better," he assures her, and then stares up at the ceiling. He can hear her breath growing shallower and quicker. "God, Tina."
The five actual city blocks – the thousand imagined miles – suddenly seem like nothing and everything when he hears her voice catch and she's whispering his name and he can practically feel her shaking body pressed against his. They're both breathing hard – Tina sated, Mike frustrated – but it's still so much better than he felt fifteen minutes ago.
"My shift finishes at five," he tells her when his brain can finally function.
Her voice, when she finally speaks, is smug. "I'll be waiting."
xXx
"I didn't know Chang had a sister."
If Matt Rutherford is a pimp, as he has been known to be called, he at least considers himself an honest one. He never cheats, never lies, and always shows a lady a good time. Trey Donovan, on the other hand, is a showboating surgeon and lives up to his reputation as an asshole and a man-whore, and so Matt can't help but bristle as he slides along side him at the admit desk.
"That's because he doesn't," Matt replies shortly, picking up his chart and scribbling a note for Santana who's in the middle of a heated conversation on the phone, her high ponytail bobbing behind her head.
"Then who, pray tell, is the living embodiment of a perverted Japanese businessmen's darkest fantasy that's bringing him coffee?" Matt looks confused for a second, so Trey cocks his head towards the other side of the desk where a small woman with hair pulled back in pigtails, and – seriously – knee socks peeking out under a sensible black wool coat, waits with her lacy gloved hands wrapped around a large cup of coffee. From Mike's favourite coffee shop.
"Uh…" Matt can't quite answer because he isn't really sure, and anyways, he's fairly certain his brain has just short circuited because damnif Mike's been keeping a sister that hot a secret all these years he might just have to beat him up.
"What are you two losers staring at?" Santana's hung up the phone and is staring at the two men, her hands on her hips, and when neither one of them answer she follows their gaze over to the other side of the desk. "Sister?" she asks, and when both men shrug she can't help but roll her eyes, reaching out and smacking both of them upside the head. "Stop staring, you look like perverts," she orders, but can't help sneaking another look over her shoulder at the waiting woman. "I thought Mike was an only child?"
"I thought so too," Matt replies, keeping his voice low.
Picking up a chart, Trey lifts his head up and straightens his shoulders. "Less talking, more doing," he says with a leer, and it's enough to make Matt frown and Santana shoot him a glare as he wanders off.
"Douche," she mutters after him as he walks around the desk, but she and Matt both watch with curious tension as he approaches the small, dark-haired woman.
"Hey," Trey's voice is smooth and charming and Tina starts slightly to have a complete stranger start talking to her in the middle of the hospital. She clutches her fingers around Mike's coffee harder.
"Hi," she replies cautiously.
Trey puffs out his chest – making his green scrubs all the more noticeable – and uses the hand that isn't clutching the chart to sweep the chestnut hair back from his forehead. "Are you waiting for someone or can I help you?"
He sounds sincere, but there's something about the way he stands – just a fraction too close – that sets Tina on edge. "I'm f-fine," she says, and feels her cheeks tinge pink when he frowns at her stutter. "I'm just waiting for D-doctor Chang. He knows I'm here."
Trey seems to take this as conformation of her identity, and is just leaning his body in towards her when they are broken apart by the sound of a voice.
"Tina!"
Mike walks down the hallway, long legs making short work, and stops right next to her with a broad smile on his face. Tina looks back at him just as brightly and Trey knows he's been completely forgotten.
"You left this morning b-before you had any c-coffee," she announces, almost shyly, and holds out the large cup for him. His name is scrawled on the side along with some random doodles and he takes it out of her hands and places it on the side of the desk before wrapping his arms around her.
"You are wonderful," he tells her, and then pulling back just slightly, he presses his lips against hers, and then her arms are around his neck and his around her waist, and Trey slinks back around the other side of the desk.
Matt and Santana can't help the laughter that bursts from their lips, and Santana leans against Matt's broad chest as she whistles appreciatively through her teeth. "Not his sister," she comments as Mike and Tina continue to make out in the middle of the hallway.
"*Definitely* not his sister," Matt agrees.
xXx
"So we'll camp outside his offices until he comes to speak with us. Or at least sends a representative, he can't keep stone-walling us on this…Tina?"
Sat in the middle of the coffee shop, cups clinking and chair legs scraping against the floor and the wind blowing outside, Tina realises that she's completely zoned out of the conversation; when Quinn says her name it's like a smack upside the head. She actually jolts in her seat and feels guilt stealing over her as Quinn stares, eyebrows raised and her pen stilled over her pad of paper.
"I'm so sorry," she mumbles, straightening up, pushing her hair back from her face with both hands. "I was a m-million miles away."
The corner of Quinn's lips quirk, and the pink-haired girl sets her pen down and steeples her fingers together, resting her chin on top. "You've been doing a lot of that the last couple weeks," she teases, using her thumbs to fiddle with the long silver chain that hangs around her neck. "Sure that knock didn't do permanent damage?" Her eyes skate across Tina's forehead where a faint red line is still just visible on her pale skin.
Sticking her tongue out, Tina reaches across the table and pokes Quinn in the arm, hard. "My head is fine," she reiterates (even though she's told Quinn the same thing pretty much every day since the incident – the punk girl has a tendency to worry about her). "I just d-didn't get much sleep."
It's meant completely innocently, but Quinn throws her head back and laughs, and wags her finger. "You have to teach that man some self control. Or, you know, learn some yourself." There's a faint buzzing and Quinn slides her hand into her black skinny jeans and pulls out her phone as she continues to laugh softly. "Puck," she acknowledges. Scrolling down her message, she looks up at Tina from under her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. "You think you could tear yourself away from your burning hunk of man love for one night to look after your Goddaughter?" she asks.
"Protest?" Tina queries, taking a sip of her chai tea and wincing slightly because with all her daydreaming, the liquid has turned from scalding to tepid.
"Date night," Quinn corrects with a lazy smile.
"D-dinner and a movie?"
Quinn laughs, fingering the small silver stud in her nose. "Puck's a traditionalist, what can I say?" She lifts up her own coffee, taking a long sip and looking at Tina over the top of the mug. "What about your McDreamy-alike? Traditionalist? Or uncharted waters?" She keeps her tone light but Tina can read the tempered concern there and has to stop herself from rolling her eyes; as if she isn't getting enough mother-henning from Kurt.
"He likes t-taking me out when he can," Tina gives, rubbing her thumb along the red lipstick stain on the top of her mug. "And he's got the whole 'strict Asian upbringing' thing going on." She thinks hard for a moment. "But he's d-definitely got d-depths. And his kinks," she acknowledges with a slight laugh and one hand pressed against her cheek because she can feel the pink heat creeping over her skin, especially when Quinn starts laughing again and leans back in her chair.
"Doctors and nurses?" she guesses. "Or is that too close to home?"
Tina shakes her head, biting her lip to stop herself grinning. "Not d-doctors and nurses," she gives, but twirls a piece of hair around her finger, tugging it gently as she considers her reply. Also, she's very aware that they're in the middle of a busy coffee shop in bustling Manhattan and not everyone needs the details of her still-new sex life. "B-biting. Some light bondage."
Quinn whistles through her teeth. "Sounds like you two are a match made in heaven. I assume he's the one getting tied up?"
A waitress walks past exactly at the moment that Quinn speaks, and shoots the two of them a startled, judgemental look – a step up from the ones they normally receive for their plethora of black clothes and piercings and technicoloured hair – that just makes Quinn laugh and Tina bury her head in her hands. Her shoulders shake with giggles.
When their laughter dies down, Quinn sips her coffee again and her face takes on a furrowed, serious look that Tina knows well. "He's not pushing you into anything?" she asks gently, voice soft and her eyes not quite meeting Tina's. She toys with the cuff around her wrist, black leather sliding in a circle and silver studs glinting in the afternoon Fall light.
"He's happy with what I want to d-do," Tina promises, crossing her legs at the ankle and squeezing her knees together, the thick material of her black wool tights rubbing against her skin. "I've told him I'm not c-comfortable being tied up and he respects that."
There's a long pause, and Quinn licks her lips and nods her head, and then picks up her pen again. "So, you'll take Beth on Thursday night?"
Tina grins, wide. "I'd love to."
XxX
When Mike gets off work and walks out the door he is taken aback to see a familiar face waiting for him, hands buried deep in the pockets of her black wool coat and a small smile dimpling the corners of her wind-pinked cheeks.
"Surprise," she smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, looking up at him from under her eyelashes in a shy, coquettish manner that has him freezing in his tracks and his jaw dropping a fraction.
Sam, who had walked out the door with him, just rolls his eyes and claps him on the shoulder. "Later dude," he throws out, knowing that Mike barely hears him as he waves distractedly at the blond's retreating back.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, and he realises it sounds kind of blunt and ungrateful because her smile falters just slightly and her shoulders tense.
"I was in the n-neighbourhood having l-lunch with Quinn," she tells him, biting on her lip. "And I remembered what t-time you finished. I th-thought you might appreciate the c-company?"
She's hesitant, and nervous, but then he launches himself towards her and grabs her in a hug; her arms go around his neck and cling and he presses light kisses all over her cheeks in a way that makes her laugh brightly. "You have no idea how much this makes my day better," he tells her, squeezing tightly, fisting the material of her coat in his hands and breathing in the familiar lemon-scent of her hair. "Hi."
"Hi," she responds softly, lips settling into a warm curved smile. She pulls back enough to brush her thumb over the light stubble on his cheek. It's barely there, but just enough that he feels slightly rough to her touch. "You n-need to get home?"
"Not if you're the other option," he shakes his head. "I'm not working again until tomorrow night."
She grins, taking his hand in hers – the lacy fingerless gloves brushing against his bare palm – and they begin walking away from the hospital, arms swinging between their bodies. "I thought it was a nice afternoon for a walk." A chilly wind whips her hair behind her shoulders, but the sun is bright and clear overhead and the sky is perfect and blue. Brown and amber leaves scuttle at their feet.
"You have the best ideas," he breathes, tugging her hand so she walks just a fraction closer and their elbows brush each other. He laughs when she pulls away again long enough to jump on a particularly crunchy looking leaf. It crackles under her boots and makes him stop them walking long enough to cup her face and press a long, warm kiss against her wind-dry lips. "You're ridiculously cute."
Pulling back from the kiss, she rolls her eyes at him fondly. "You're j-just ridiculous," she tells him, but softens the words by squeezing his hand.
He accepts that with a smile, taking her hand again as they continue their walk. "So do you have plans for me this afternoon?" he asks, half-innocent and half-cheeky, bracing himself as a particularly strong gust of wind batters his face.
Tucking her tangled hair behind her ear, Tina cocks her head back and forth. "I was thinking shower and then some b-beers in front of the tv? 'Singing in the Rain' is p-playing on Classics. And Kurt is w-working late on his feature and my c-class at the Centre d-doesn't start 'til 11 tomorrow."
His heart swells with something then, and it's a feeling that he's been having a lot recently, but can't quite place. Like something is itching to burst out of him and leave him in a little pile of ashes. But all he can do is squeeze her hand back. "I love 'Singing in the Rain'."
"I kn-know," she smiles up at him. "I've seen your Gene Kelly t-shirt. In fact, you left it on my floor."
"I was wondering where that was," he acknowledges with a shy laugh, rubbing his face with his free hand.
They walk for a long time in quiet silence, commenting on people walking by or the wind, and Tina pulls away from him a couple more times to jump on leaves. The last time she does it he grabs her round the waist and lifts her up, spinning her around as his own sneakers crunch down before she gets a chance.
"Cheater!" she cries out, laughing and smiling and not even caring that other pedestrians are giving them a wide berth or shooting irritated looks their way. Her legs flail and she playfully wiggles against his grip until he lets go of her and her feet can touch the floor.
They're outside of her apartment before either of them realise it.
"Feel like leaving some more clothes on my floor?"
A smile breaks over his lips. "Love to."
xXx
The shower is steamy and Tina feels ridiculously decadent as she raises her beer to her lips as Mike kisses a trail up her calf and over her kneecap. The bitter, hoppy taste, combined with the pelting warmth of the water and Mike's hot, wet mouth is enough to make her stomach flip, and as his lips trail further up her leg – unshaven cheek scratching her inner thighs just lightly – she has to reach out and press her hand against the wall for balance.
"God, Mike," she breathes, leaning over just long enough to set her bottle down on the counter top next to her toothbrush – worried that otherwise she might drop it and broken glass and nudity are never a good mix – and rakes the fingers of her free hand gently through his hair.
In response, he nips the flesh of her inner thigh, drawing lazy patterns against it with his tongue and pressing butterfly kisses to the smooth pale skin, inching higher and higher so slowly that it's enough to make her whimper and he laughs into her hip. Giving into her clear non-verbal pleading, his hands reach up to cup her ass as his tongue finally flicks against her. She's glad he has such a firm grip, because her legs spasm as he moves his mouth, lips sucking and tongue exploring and dipping in and out of her with practiced ease. Her hand fists in his hair and she can't help bucking her hips towards his mouth.
She considers herself lucky that Mike takes unspoken direction so well, because he moves one hand from her ass and slides a finger inside her as he sucks at her clit. Her legs fall wider apart as he adds a second digit and she can feel the blush spread over her cheeks and chest and heat tingling all over her body; the noise of the water seems muted as all she can hear is her own heavy breathing and the gentle movements of Mike's lips and fingers.
For a moment she's seriously worried that she might come and fall and drown, but then Mike's pulling his fingers out of her and she feels totally bereft. She's about to complain – to whimper, to begif she has to – but then he's standing up and sliding one hand under her slick thigh so it's locked around his hip; his lips are on hers (and he tastes like beer and herand she can't get enough),his thumb swipes over her clit as he pushes inside her, and her whole body's pressed against the slick tiles and God. It's enough to make her teeth rattle.
She knows he gets off on going down on her; knows it from the way his teeth bite at her neck and he's ridiculously hard even though she barely touched him. He's holding her up with one arm (and she takes a moment to be incredibly turned on by just how muscled and strong he is that he can do that) and the other is still between their bodies, dancing over her sensitive clit with light sweeps and an unexpected pinch that catches her off guard and makes her whole body tense as she curses in Korean and clings to his body – arms around his neck and legs around his waist – as she shivers and shudders and she swears she can feel him sink even deeper inside of her.
Mike's hair is plastered to his forehead and rivulets are running down his shoulders and abs and disappearing between their bodies, and he moves his hand from her clit to her breasts, palming her already tingling nipples until they're so hard they stand at attention and bright pink. He thrusts up into her, hard and fast, and he pulls her leg even higher on his waist and she can feel him brush the place inside of her that makes her see stars. Still so sensitive from her first orgasm, she actually falters at the feeling of a second – of the clenches and spasms and waves continuing and building again – and her breath catches hard in her chest.
Her body gripping tightly around him, Mike can't help but groan her name and press her even harder against the wall, his hips thrusting hard as he spills – hot and wet and completely – inside of her.
The next few minutes are spent heavy breathing and open-mouthed kissing and Tina still occasionally shuddering against him as the last vestiges of orgasm tickle her nerve endings. She clings to him; all arms and legs wrapped around and tight, and locks her ankles behind his back when he tries to pull out. "In a minute," she murmurs into his shoulder, but doesn't protest when he lets go of her long enough to turn off the water. The cold air buffers them immediately and goose bumps prickle at Tina's skin.
"Come on babe," Mike prompts, rubbing her back, because his legs are still kind of wobbly and he's slightly afraid that if he tries to get out of the tub with her still wrapped around him they might actually end up a sprawled mess on the floor. "You're okay."
There's a pause, and then Tina tips a small nod of her head, and Mike eases her slowly down so her feet can touch the floor. Pulling out of her makes her whimper – still sensitive – and it's all Mike can do to keep his hands to himself because dammit, two in a row is good but three would be better.
Stepping out of the shower he grabs two of Tina's large navy towels, securing one around his waist and holding the other out for her. She steps into it willingly, letting him wrap her up, rubbing her shoulders and her back, and he pushes her soaking hair back from her forehead and kisses her soundly. "Okay?"
"Mmhmm," she murmurs back, snuggling into his body, still searching for his touch and his warmth, and she lets him dry her off with patted touches and rubs up and down her body that make her skin tingle. It takes a few minutes but she finally gathers the wherewithal to grab her hair and twist, and drops of water pitter-patter at her feet.
Mike reaches up and tucks a strand behind her ear. "It's weird to see without the blue," he remarks, because even though he's seen her without them before he's just way more used to her with the vibrant streaks.
"They go weird if I wash them too much," she admits, letting the towel drop to the ground and reaching up to the back of the door where her fluffy robe hangs. Slipping her arms in, she lets Mike tie the sash at her waist, and then leans over and picks up the earlier-abandoned beer and brings it to her lips. "You ready for the movie?"
Laughing, he can't help but reach out and grab her to him, their bodies pressed together and her fitting perfectly so her head rests against his shoulder. "You make me happy."
She smiles back, but it's hidden in the curve of his neck. "You make me happy too."
xXx
When Kurt finally gets home with Blaine in tow, it's to find Tina sprawled on the sofa – oversized t-shirt rumpled round her waist and polka-dotted panties peeking out under the hem – completely fast asleep. A broad-shouldered figure is crouched down beside her, scribbling on the edge of a magazine, and starts when he hears the door being pushed open.
Mike shoots up to his feet and stands face-to-face with the two men, looking a little guilty even as he rocks on his heels and nods his head in acknowledgement. "Hey," he says, feeling awkward and totally aware that Kurt's green eyes are darker than usual as he stares at him, and Blaine is shooting glances between his boyfriend and the good doctor. "I was just leaving her a note – I didn't want to wake her up – could you tell her I headed back to my place to grab some clothes?"
Blaine nods his head, "Sure," but Kurt doesn't answer. He just crosses his arms over his chest and watches, silent and still, as Mike picks up his backpack and then nods his head.
"Okay," he tries again, because the tension is really thick and he totally has no idea why Kurt is staring at his as though he wants to castrate him. "I'll catch you guys soon. Tina said something about lunch?" He offers it tentatively, hoping that Kurt might latch on to the subject – it had been his idea after all – but he just turns on his heel and walks towards the kitchen table, leaving Mike and Blaine looking at each other.
Blaine looks overwhelmingly apologetic. "Lunch would be good," he offers, and can see the relief crash over Mike's face that at least one half of the couple isn't irrationally mad at him. Or whatever Kurt is.
Mike shoulders his bag and shrugs as he slides past Blaine and towards the door. "Nice to see you two again," he says – forever polite – before sneaking out the door and shutting it with a quick 'click' behind him.
There's a long pause and then…"Always just disappearing into the night," Kurt scoffs, setting his messenger bag down on one of the empty chairs and rubbing at his wrist, his voice kept at a hard whisper.
Pulling off his jacket Blaine eyes him, brow furrowed. He's seen Kurt be haughty and dismissive before but never without good reason, and certainly never with someone in their social circle, and so Blaine's confused by his apparent anger. "He's a busy guy and he doesn't exactly work normal hours. She doesn't seem to mind." He nods his head towards Tina's prone body and mussed hair. "She seems happy, Kurt."
Kurt only responds with a huff of air as he pulls mugs out of the cabinets and fills the kettle with water. His lips are pressed together in passive aggression and he presses his hands flat against the counter top. "I don't trust him." He winces slightly, wiggling the fingers of his left hand.
Reaching out, Blaine wraps his fingers around Kurt's wrist, rubbing at the flesh and bone with his thumb in gentle concentric circles. "It's going to rain?" he asks as a seeming non sequitur, but it's enough to make Kurt's eyes film just slightly as he nods his head.
"Yeah."
Heaving a sigh, Blaine wraps his arms around his boyfriend, holding him firm and warmly and he can feel when Kurt finally gives in and sags against him. He rubs his hand up and down Kurt's back. "I know you worry about her. But she's not sixteen anymore. She's a grown woman and could kick *your* ass and I think you have to trust her to make her own decisions."
Kurt's fingers curl into the soft material of Blaine's sweater. "It's my job to look after her," he pouts tiredly, and he rubs his nose against Blaine's shoulder. "I just don't want her to get hurt."
"There's always a chance that people can get hurt when they get into a relationship," Blaine offers as he pulls away, the kettle bubbling and hissing; he picks it up and pours the steaming water into the two mugs, the scent of camomile raising from one and peppermint from its mate. "But Mike seems like a nice guy."
Dropping into one of the kitchen chairs, Kurt hangs his head and stares at his hands. His voice is barely audible when he speaks. "They always seem nice, Blaine. They're doctors or teachers or guys on the football team and no one suspects - " His voice falters and he takes a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders and painting a sad smile on his face. "No one suspects."
Kneeling down in front of him, Blaine rests one hand on Kurt's knee and uses the other to cup his chin. His smile is small and understanding. "Not all guys are going to hurt her," he reminds his boyfriend, squeezing his knee. "You need to give her this chance to be happy."
There's a long moment where they both look over at Tina – still unconscious on the sofa – and her lips move and she murmurs into the empty air, dreaming and stretching her legs and snuggling further into the pillows like a toddler. It's enough to make a genuine smile break across Kurt's lips.
Blaine feels relief and he stands up, picking up the camomile tea and holding it out for Kurt. "She's going to be looking to you for support Kurt - you know you mean the world to her."
Nodding his head, Kurt takes the mug and unwinds his body from the chair, standing up. "I'll try," he promises, blowing across the top of the drink as Blaine twists his body and picks up his own peppermint tea. "I promise."
Sighing, and smiling his small, loving smile, Blaine holds out his hand. "Come to bed with me?"
The taller man just takes his hand, fingers interlocked, and follows.
xXx