CHAPTER SIX

"So are you going to eat lunch with us today?" Kurt jumped, and then quickly froze in anxiety as he tried to control his wince. Slowly, he turned from his locker to find himself staring at a rather scary brigade of Tina, Mike, Mercedes, Sam, Brittany, Santana, Artie, Rachel and even an extremely uncomfortable looking Finn.

"Um... will Blaine be there?" Kurt asked hopefully, trying to squash the sudden overwhelming urge to run. All of them had their arms crossed as Tina sighed.

"I don't know, we haven't seen him yet. Why will you sit with Blaine, but not us?" She asked, sounding hurt, which made his brow scrunch in confusion.

"Because he's my friend..." He trailed off as he noticed all of the aghast, pained stares he was on the receiving end of and gulped slightly as Santana bitch glared him and pulled a trembling Brittany closer to her.

"We're your friends too Kurt," Rachel started, stepping forward and tossing her hair, but Kurt's reaction actually managed to stop her talking, which earned Kurt an impressed look from Santana.

He reeled back, blinking in shock and his mouth half forming words as he tried to process this, barely catching himself in time to stop his back from crashing into the locker behind him.

"You... you're... what?" He mumbled, still blinking rapidly, when Blaine joined them, his grin stretching wider for a moment when he spotted Kurt and instantly dropping when he took in the other boy's stricken expression. Frowning, he stepped closer to Kurt, who was still struggling to get his brain working again, and eyed his friends.

"Guys, what were you doing? Were you bothering him again?" Rachel's eyes widened, but Mercedes cut in gently (it really was the only way to carry on a conversation involving Rachel Berry).

"We were asking him to eat lunch with us, Blaine, but he doesn't see us as his friends, so..." Mercedes shrugged unhappily, but as Blaine glanced back at Kurt's shocked expression, everything fell into place.

"Wait!" He called, and the group turned back to him. He glanced at Kurt again, who was staring at him with a helpless, pleading expression on his face, looking very much out of his depth. "Did you guys ever... say that you were friends?" Blaine asked carefully, unsure of how much the New Directions had realised about Kurt's attitude to friendship.

They look confused, so Blaine sighed inwardly, looking to Kurt in sympathy again.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, exchanging a puzzled look with his girlfriend.

"Did you ever... explicitly say to Kurt 'we're friends'?" He asked, and one by one, they shook their heads. This time Blaine sighed aloud, but turned to Kurt with a very gentle expression on his face.

"Kurt, these guys are your friends too, okay?" He said quietly, noticing the glee clubbers edging closer to hear but keeping his attention focused on Kurt. Kurt frowned farther, looking extremely uncertain.

"What-but... really?" His eyes flickered to the group, who all looked shocked by Kurt's awe-struck expression. Blaine chuckled.

"Yes, really, Kurt. They like you."

"But... why?" Kurt now looked practically star-struck, and while Brittany looked equally happy and Mike was smiling slightly confusedly, he could tell by the frowns on the other's faces that they were starting to realise that the way Kurt viewed friendship was a little... odd.

Resigning himself to being interrogated later, he grinned at Kurt.

"Same reason I do."

"Oh, I really doubt that." Santana quipped sarcastically, and Blaine blushed as Kurt frowned a little, looking at the other cheerleader uncertainly.

Thankfully Rachel chose that point to join in the conversation once more, cutting off whatever crude thing Santana was about to say.

"Well, Kurt, we count ourselves as your friends. I'm not sure how you didn't realise that, but we are. Sorry for not making that clearer. But, really, we've been chatting in lessons and competing against each other for years now; I think that makes us friends, and really even though we've never met up outside of school, I still believe that it-"

"Rachel Berry, you are going to singlehandedly cause global warming if you keep going like that." Kurt but in, looking slightly fascinated at Rachel's monologue, while Blaine stifled a laugh at the expression on the small brunette's face.

"So... will you eat lunch with us, Kurt?" Kurt looked at Mercedes, before nodding, still looking slightly dazed as Tina linked arms with him and they all moved off towards the cantine.


"Explain, please." Blaine sighed. He'd barely taken a single step into the choir room, and yet already he had been dragged the rest of the way to his seat, dumped there and had a question fired at him already.

"About what?" As far as Blaine was concerned, there were several things about Kurt that needed to be explained to the New Directions.

"Kurt. His reaction. Why did he look so surprised when we said we were his friends?" The other members of the club had obviously been filled in, as they were all listening intently to the conversation.

"Oh. Um. Kurt... he has a... very low opinion of himself." Blaine answered, choosing his words carefully. When Rachel impatiently flapped her hand at him to carry on, he sighed again, sending a silent apology to Kurt in case.

"He doesn't see himself as worthy. He doesn't understand why you would want to be his friend; he doesn't think that... he's good enough for that? Something like that. I'm not sure, this is just my guess. But he didn't understand why I would want to be friends with him when I asked, so I figure it's the same with you guys. Unless you tell him, he doesn't... get it." Blaine explained carefully, dropping his gaze to the floor so he didn't have to see the horrified, pitying expressions on everyone's faces.

"He really thinks that?" Blaine started as he realised that at some point during his explanation, Mr Schue had come in and obviously caught most of what he had been saying.

"Yes, I think so." Blaine nodded, his mouth turning down and brow lowering as he remembered the unbearably confused expression on Kurt's face from that afternoon.

"Why... why would he believe that?" Artie wondered sadly, and instantly a wave of startlingly cold anger crashed through his veins as his eyes narrowed. From their mutters as he stood, he guessed that they noticed his anger this time.

"Oh, I don't know, but I'm thinking that maybe the fact that he's bullied every single day might just maybe have something to do with it! ?" He snapped acidly, feeling a surge of vindictive pleasure when they (rightfully) looked shocked.

"But... he's not even in Glee club..." Somebody muttered, and Blaine had to close his eyes to try and control his breathing.

"You think that Glee club are the only people who are bullied? He's bullied because he's gay, because he's different, because he doesn't, like the rest of us, 'fit in'. And he's bullied far more than you guys are." He finished bitterly, while his friends exchanged puzzled, thoughtful glances.

"How so, Blaine?" Mr Schue had by now abandoned his stance as a teacher in front of the white board and joined the group, arms crossed and a concerned expression on his face.

"God, if you can't see it, then you're more oblivious than I thought. Especially you, guys, you're on the football team. You seriously haven't noticed? I saw within an hour of getting here!" His voice was rising slightly, and the confusion stubbornly remaining on everyone's faces finally made him snap.

"He's shoved into lockers, he's pushed into doors, he's slushied multiple times a day, god, he was even pushed down the stairs last week! He gets shoved in hallways, and has stuff thrown at him in all his lessons! How can you not even see it?"

A stunned silence greeted his words, as he stared at them all accusingly, chest heaving.

None of them reacted, and he turned away in disgust, yanking his bag up from the floor angrily and striding out with a parting; "I'm skipping club today."


Kurt was not proud of the fact that he used the school showers sometimes. But on the days he went to the Hummel's garage, on the days he didn't have to be home on time, he used the school showers.

But he found that even at school he never felt entirely safe in the shower, felt far too vulnerable standing there naked in a place where he knows from experience that he cannot easily defend himself.

And so to suddenly hear the angry sounds of a locker slamming, and then the steady thwack of somebody attacking a punching bag with a strangely ordered, controlled intensity while he was showering was really not doing much to help his already frayed nerves.

Nervously, he switched the faucet off, shivering under his thin towel and hurriedly pulling his clothes on while still in the cubicle, trying to be as quiet as possible.

With his clothes and hair a lot damper than he would've liked, he began to very carefully exit the locker room, trying to ignore the sounds from inside the gym just through the wide-open door, his movements practised at minimising noise.

But then his foot knocked against a bench, just lightly, but he still had to bite back a cry at the flare of pain it sent up his leg.

"Hello?" Kurt cursed under his breath and began to walk faster towards the door and the promise of safety, but the person in the gym had clearly moved faster than Kurt, because he was suddenly forced to halt in his tracks by a hand on his shoulder.

He reacted without thinking about it; jerking away and raising his bag in front of him as a shield, twisting around to try and look at the jock, only to find Blaine staring at him, hand still outstretched and an appalled expression on his lovely, lovely face.

"Oh... hi Blaine." Kurt tried for a smile, but his nerves were still a little shaky; and he wasn't entirely sure how it turned out.

"Kurt?" Kurt lowered his bag slowly, trying to even out his breathing as he took in Blaine's appearance- and oh dear god, he's in a vest. And sweating. And his hair is curly. Okay.

Fuck, his hair is curly.

Kurt was so distracted by this revelation (it wasn't that he hadn't figured out that Blaine's hair was curly; that fact at least explained in part Blaine's fondness for hair gel. It was just that… it was really curly. And, you know, right in front of him. And sweaty. And distracting) that he didn't notice that Blaine was asking after him until his hand touched his shoulder.

Again on instinct, he flinched away from Blaine's hand, catching the appalled look back on Blaine's face.

"Sorry, I... you were saying?" Kurt hurriedly tried to diffuse the sudden tension, not sure what to make of the tightening of Blaine's expression.

"Are you okay?" And Kurt had to blink back tears just at that, because he'd never had anyone other than Burt ask him that with such a gentle tone since his mother. He tried for a smile again.

"Oh, yeah, you just startled me." Blaine's face relaxed a little, but his brow remained furrowed in concern.

"Kurt, were you... showering?" Kurt flushed, dropping his gaze, before nodding shortly, embarrassed.

"Can I ask... why?" Kurt's blush spread down his neck as he tried to think of a plausible lie. No one had ever asked before.

"Um… it's just easier," he shrugged, and then mentally berated himself for the next few seconds as a flash of pain spiked through his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asked quickly, trying to distract himself.

"Huh? Oh, just… working off some anger." Blaine gave him a sheepish smile.

"What do you mean?" Kurt frowned as Blaine shrugged a little.

"Boxing." He replied, holding up his wrapped hands as an explanation, and oh, that wasn't what had Kurt meant when he'd asked; he didn't need to know this because now he was imagining Blaine punching something, and just no, no, no, this boy cannot be like that, he isn't supposed to be like that, and isn't it such an ironic twist of fate; Blaine's a boxer and Kurt's a punching bag, they fit-

"-Kurt!" He snapped out of the whirl of dizzying images assaulting his brain and jerked away from Blaine again, this time purposefully.

"Sorry, I just. I don't really like… violence." Kurt answered Blaine's hurt, questioning look as he eyed his bandaged hands. Blaine's face softened, and he held his hand out. Kurt stared at it for a few moments, not understanding, his eyes flying back up to meet Blaine's soft ones.

"Come on." He said, softly, and reluctantly, Kurt reached out and slipped his hand into Blaine's, with barely there pressure, feeling the rough, unfamiliar texture of the bandages with his fingers. Blaine tightened his grip, and tugged Kurt backwards through the changing room, and into the gym, his eyes never leaving Kurt's face as he managed to navigate through the benches with surprisingly little trouble.

"Here. Sit." Still confused, Kurt followed Blaine's instructions, shifting a little in surprise when Blaine sat right next to him, so their shoulders brushed with every movement and their thighs were this close to touching.

"I get why you don't like violence Kurt, but I… I don't want you to see me like that. Can I explain why I do it?" Blaine's voice rose in question, his brows scrunched together in earnest anxiety.

"O-okay…" Kurt answered, slightly fixated by their still clasped hands, but his eyes returned to Blaine's face when he felt the tension rush from the other boy's body.

"Thank you," he breathed, and Kurt cocked his head as he waited for Blaine to carry on.

"So?" Kurt prompted, now genuinely curious to hear why Blaine, Blaine, who was so gentle and kind and lovely, would do something like boxing.

"Oh, well. Um. It's… it's for a lot of reasons, but I started because I was bullied." Kurt went very still, and Blaine tightened his grip a little in a squeeze of comfort. "It was after I left public school, when I transferred to Dalton. I was just… so angry, all the time, and I needed a release. I guess I also kind of wanted to be able to defend myself…" Blaine trailed off, looking a little sheepish, and Kurt raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Uh, well, I'm not very good at reacting quickly. The thing about boxing, at least with a bag, is that it's… methodical." Kurt shuddered a little, and Blaine swept his thumb across Kurt's knuckles in sympathy, but ploughed on regardless. "I mean, it's measured. Controlled. So that I don't… explode at another time, in an uncontrolled way. You see?" he asked anxiously, the pressure on Kurt's hand increasing slightly. Kurt tilted his head to the other side, frowning as he struggled with the concept of using violence as a form of release to protect other people.

"So… you… you box, so you don't… hurt people?" Kurt asked, and Blaine's eyes widened so quickly it was almost comical, shaking his head vehemently.

"No! God, no, I would never… I hope I would never actually physically hurt someone, I'm not, I'm not that out of control…" Blaine's face was screwed up with emotion, but Kurt didn't notice; his eyes fixed once more on their linked hands as he answered softly.

"I didn't think you would." Blaine's breathing hitched, before he relaxed a little. He hadn't even realised just how badly he had needed to hear those words from Kurt's mouth.

"It's just a way of directing anger. I could probably do it by shouting at a wall or something, but…"

"The defence part of it." Kurt murmured, eyes flashing back up to meet Blaine's in a surge of understanding. Blaine nodded, smiling a little.

"Yeah."

Kurt bit his lip again, and Blaine quickly looked away from his mouth-and how had he ended up looking at his mouth again without realising?

"What… how were you bullied?" he asked quietly, eyes curious and expression soft but slightly wary. Blaine sucked in a shocked breath, and Kurt's eyes widened as he realised what he'd just said. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, I was just- sorry." He babbled, before Blaine held up a hand and gave a little huff of laughter.

Nervous Kurt was kind of cute.

"No, no, it's… it's fine. I just… nobody's ever asked." Blaine explained, frowning a little as he realised that it was true. Everyone he would've told already… knew, just from the aftermath of the event.

Cooper had told his friends at Dalton (though he didn't actually discover his older brother's protective rant at his new classmates until several months later, when Wes had asked him about it, much to his absolute mortification), and everyone from Westerville Middle just… knew.

"You really don't have to say anything, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked-"

"Hey, Kurt, stop. It's okay. I… I want to tell you." Kurt's eyes widened, his eyebrows flying up his forehead. Blaine smiled a little.

"Don't look so excited, I'm just going to tell you what happened." He said dryly, and Kurt bit his lip again apologetically, seeming to instantly get what Blaine meant by that. Blinking a little in surprise, Blaine took a breath, pondering how he should start and so, so grateful that for whatever reason Kurt got it; got that he was going to tell him what happened, but that he wasn't going to explain his feelings.

"Well, school was… not great. Not as bad as here, but not great. Mainly, it was just, you know, verbal abuse. Name calling." Blaine shrugged as Kurt cocked his head, eyes fixed on Blaine's face as he spoke. "And then… well, there was this guy in one of my classes, and he was gay too. So I asked him to a Sadie Hawkins dance, just as friends, you know?" Kurt looked thoughtful at that, but nodded at him to carry on.

"Well, it was all… fine. Fun, even. There were whispers and stares and jeers, but nothing too bad." Blaine sighed, and immediately Kurt's face scrunched in apprehension. "It was when we were leaving, afterwards. We were just waiting on the curb next to the parking lot; my dad was going to come pick us up, and… there were these guys. They were older than us, and I guess they saw us… I don't know. 'Being gay'." He muttered bitterly, and jumping a little when Kurt tentatively squeezed his hand in sympathy. As his eyes shot to Kurt's face, he saw the other boy looked slightly terrified by his own actions, so quickly changed his expression into a smile and squeezed back.

"My friend, he kissed me on the cheek. Just to say thank you. And they… well. To be blunt, they beat the crap out of us. Both of us were in hospital for weeks." Kurt squeezed his hand tighter, while Blaine let out another long breath.

Several moments of silence passed before Kurt spoke.

"That's… I'm sorry. What… what did they… How badly…" Kurt hesitated, but Blaine understood.

"How badly was I injured?" Kurt nodded once, sharp and quick as he steadfastly refused to meet Blaine's eyes, seemingly embarrassed at having asked the question. Blaine thought about it.

"Um… I had a concussion… I was in a coma for two or three days. They kicked me a lot, and I ruptured a spleen. I needed surgery. I think the total was something like 50 stitches. Uh, my left arm was fractured, and I had two broken ribs… but that was mainly just bruising. They had to reset one of them; it hurt like hell." He replied, trying to make a joke out of the agony of having part of his ribcage realigned. Kurt gasped a little, and Blaine once more stroked his knuckles soothingly.

"Um… reset?" he asked, and Blaine's eyebrows rose, but he didn't comment on the oddness of the question.

"Like… re-broken and moved. So that it healed properly, in the right shape." Kurt frowned.

"What… what happens if you don't, don't get it… reset?" He asked. Blaine drew back, frowning back at him.

"Well, the bone will heal, but at the wrong angle…" He answered slowly. "Kurt, is there…" he trailed off, uncertain as to how the hell he could phrase that question, but Kurt didn't notice, still looking thoughtful.

Apparently coming to a decision, he shifted his grip, keeping hold of Blaine's hand and tugging it up to his abdomen. Blaine froze as Kurt pushed aside the corner of his jacket and lifted his jumper up to reveal his slightly wrinkled undershirt.

Carefully, Kurt pressed Blaine's hand to his ribcage, and Blaine's breathing stopped.

"Kurt…" He choked, while Kurt just stared back at him impassively. "Kurt, what is that?" He sucked in another shuddery breath, as Kurt dropped his hand; leaving Blaine's pressed over the bone.

"My rib." He answered quietly, still watching Blaine carefully. "It got broken. Is this what you meant? When you said that it healed… wrong?" Blaine swallowed, feeling the jut beneath his hand; a rib sticking out slightly more than it should at the wrong angle from the rest of Kurt's ribcage.

"Uh… yes. But… Kurt, how, how…" He swallowed again, trying to phrase the question and failing miserably. Kurt's eyes were guarded.

"I was nine. I… ran, into a doorframe." He shrugged a little. "I guess we didn't realise it was that badly broken…" He trailed off, giving a little smile. Blaine dropped his hand, unable to bear feeling the wrongness of the strange unnatural angle of Kurt's rib any longer, frowning.

"But, Kurt, didn't you go to hospital?" He asked, treading on very uncertain waters. Kurt looked thoughtful, like he hadn't really considered the question before, and shook his head.

"No. We weren't really… in our right minds at the time." When Blaine continued to stare at him, frowning, he reluctantly expanded. "My… my mother, she had just... died. About two months before my ninth birthday. So, none of us were thinking straight, and then it stopped hurting so…" He shrugged again, just a small movement of his shoulders while Blaine processed the words.

"God, Kurt, I'm so, so sorry…" he murmured, reaching for Kurt's hand again and unable to prevent a small spark of happiness when Kurt willingly let him lace their fingers together.

"Why? It's not as if you're the one who killed her," he answered dryly, and Blaine smiled a little, still gazing at Kurt in sympathy.

"No, but… I'm sorry you're hurting." Kurt stared at him, mouth falling open a little in surprise.

"Me too." He said quietly, looking pained for a second before his expression cleared and he smiled a little.

"Kurt… shouldn't you…" Kurt tilted his head again, but when Blaine's eyes flickered to where his wonky rib was, understanding dawned on his face.

"There's no point now. I'd probably have to pay, and it's not like it hurts any. Maybe when I have more money when I'm older." He smiled again, and Blaine hesitantly smiled back, deciding not push it any further when he saw the sharp edge in Kurt's eyes.


Kurt shut the fridge door angrily, frustrated that he couldn't slam it. He was home. He hadn't done anything more than a few slurred insults tonight, and Kurt sure as hell wasn't going to try and get his attention.

For three days now, his father hadn't touched him.

Kurt was viewing this development with mixed feelings.

On one hand, it was giving his battered body the opportunity to make a vague attempt at healing - thought he had equally mixed feelings on this too: without the distraction of fresher pain, the aches and stiffness of three-day old bruises were making themselves known.

On the other hand, this had never happened before. The longest he had gone without some kind of beating, even if was just a small shove or a slap or a Chinese burn and nothing more, was two days. It had been a brief period when he was nine, around the weekend of his mother's first birthday since her death, and his father had been too intoxicated to move, giving nine-year old Kurt a small respite.

But this was the first time his father had voluntarily just… stopped. A few muttered insults when they ran into each other were nothing.

And it was making Kurt horribly, horribly nervous.

Because the first beating he'd received after those two blissfully punch-free days had been one of the worst. A long 'bleep' in a trail of 'blips'.

His bottom left rib, the unaligned one, was from that day.

Apprehension sat coiled in his stomach, twisted through his brain, clenched around his heart as he waited for him to snap, for the routine to fall back into place.

Sighing heavily, he shot the fridge another glare and retreated up the stairs to barricade himself in his bedroom, muttering under his breath.

Kurt death-glared his faint reflection in the window for a moment, and when nothing changed he jerked the baby blue curtains closed, ignoring the stiffness and aches, but taking more care when he slowly sank onto his bed.

It took him a while to arrange his limbs into a position that didn't cause constant flares of pain, but he eventually settled in a strange, half-curled up shape, staring at the photo on his bedside table.

It was a small picture, not much larger than A5, of his mother holding a toddler-Kurt and being hugged by Kurt's dad. It was a picture that his father had given him, and he had never removed it.

For a few minutes, he felt calm - as calm as it was possible to be when he constantly had an ear out for his father. He hadn't entered Kurt's bedroom since he was ten; but Kurt wasn't sure what to believe any more; uncertain even of his father's most predictable patterns because they were changing, everything was changing.

A frown crossed his face as he contemplated that, his earlier conversation with Burt flashing across his mind.

"So, any progress on that Glee club?" Burt asked genially, putting Kurt instantly on guard with his don't-be-suspicious-of-me-I'm-just-being-casual-over-here tone.

"Progress?" He asked, rolling back under the hood with the retrieved spanner.

"Yeah. I mean, about joining." Kurt scowled, even though Burt couldn't see him.

"Oh, don't you get started on me too!" He complained, as he attacked the underbelly of the car they were working on with vicious intensity.

"Hey, don't take that tone. I'm just askin' if you've thought about it." Burt replied mildly, and Kurt sighed, rolling himself out from under the car so he could meet Burt's gaze.

"I'm sorry. It's just… everyone is going on about it. They just won't take 'no' for an answer." Kurt tried to explain. Burt nodded slowly, turning a few bolts over in his hands thoughtfully.

"Do you think that… maybe, you might just be saying no for the sake of saying no?" Kurt pulled himself upright, grimacing a little at the strain on his bruised tissues.

"What?" He asked flatly, staring at his uncle suspiciously.

"I mean… Maybe you're just saying no 'cause that's the answer you've been giving. So you don't want to think about changing your mind, 'cause you've always said no?" Kurt glared, standing up properly as his hands reached up automatically to fuss with his scarf and collar; making sure that nothing could be seen.

"No. Uncle Burt, I don't want to join. Why is that so hard for everyone to understand?" He snapped waspishly, and Burt's expression hardened a little.

"Now, Kurt, I think you and I both know that that isn't true. This is exactly your kind of thing, and none of the arguments you've given me really tell me why. I think you're scared." Kurt flinched, dropping the spanner and stepping back.

"Well, maybe I am!" He shouted recklessly, before storming out of the shop, ignoring his Uncle's cries after him.

Kurt sighed, and rolled over - carefully - and tried not to think.

When the phone rang, he spent a few moments trying to convince his screaming muscles to relax before he could get up and stumble out onto the landing; where the house phone sat. His father rarely picked up the phone, instead he listened to the messages to see if it was important afterwards, but Kurt would always check the caller ID in case it was school or something.

He frowned at the unfamiliar number, but picked it up anyway, still not really thinking clearly through the turbulence of his emotions.

"Hello? Mr Eleryn?"

"Um, he's not in right now, can I take a message?" Kurt asked, rubbing his face tiredly as he replied on autopilot.

"Sorry, who's speaking?"

"I'm his son."

"Mr Burt Hummel's nephew?" Kurt straightened, his hand dropping from his face as he suddenly focused on the conversation with newfound intensity.

"Yes. Has something… has something happened?"

"Mr Hummel suffered from a heart attack earlier this morning. He's in a coma right now, at Lima Memorial Hospital."


Hiya guys! Sorry for the wait, and sorry about the numerous emails you will have recieved if you have this on story alert! I reuploaded all the previous chapters in the past tense, sorry for clogging up your inboxes!

So, my beta was particularly excited about this chapter, so we would really love it if you could tell us what you thought? XD

In reply to some reviews, asking me to clarify some things:

XD - it's an emoticon I use, like an extremely smiley face. :)

Kurt's shirt at the end of ch. 4 - when he removed his jumper to take a look at the Hudson's car. He removed his jacket, but kept his long-sleeved shirt on, meaning no bruises would have been seen. He also kept his scarf on - which I think I actually forgot to clarify, so apologies for that - which hid the cuts he currently has on his neck. The same dress code applies to when he's working with Burt. Hope that cleared it up!

Updating time - I am not going to lie to you. I'm terrible at updating regularly - like, seriously, seriously terrible. My beta should help keep me on track, but sometimes real life will get in the way for both of us, much as we would all love to be able to sit at home and write fanfic all day! But I promise you that no matter how long it takes for me to update, I always always will. I will never abandon a fic or put one on hiatus without telling you, so please don't worry about it.

And thank you so much for everyone's fantastic reviews, and to all the people who have favourtied and story alerted this, it means so much to me. *huggles* I love hearing from you, and I hope you enjoyed this and continue to enjoy what's coming next!

Lastly as always; HUGE THANK YOU TO MY LOVELY BETA ;P

Please review!