Kurt

Though I don't enjoy night shoots, it turns out that right now, it's the best possible thing that could have happened. It gives me time to think, time to be apart from Blaine and time to attempt to figure out exactly what I do want from life.

I spend any spare time on set, calling my dad, who pretty much throws his own sleep schedule out the window in favor of listening to me whine, complain, worry, and wonder over whether Blaine will ever want me or not.

"I don't think it's a question of whether he wants you," my dad tells me over and over. "I'm sure he does. Boy's mad for you; it was written all over his face from the moment I met him. The question is, whether he can let go of all his hang-ups and be with you the way you want."

"I think we could make it work," I say, seeing a small glimmer of hope. "I mean, if he didn't feel comfortable with whatever, you know, physical stuff, we could be like companions, kind of thing."

"Kurt, you're not even thirty and you're giving up sex? I don't think so, sunshine. And actually, I think Blaine is focusing on that as a way to avoid focusing on what his real issue is."

"And what might that be?"

"Those kids."

"He loves them!"

"Exactly. And you know Blaine, Kurt. He's a considerate, kind, loving guy. Sure he might have a few hangups over whether sex with a guy might freak him out, but the issue here really is that he needs to be certain of his feelings for you before he jumps. My guess is that while he'd be beside himself if he ever hurt you, if he ever hurt them, he'd never get over it."

Dad is right, of course. I watch Blaine carefully when I see him over the next few days. He is devoted to the kids, and boy do they love him hard in return. They're good kids, and they obviously enjoy being with Polly and even with Quinn, but when Blaine is on the scene, they really do appear to be like his own kids, and I get why he wouldn't want to risk complicating all of that.

Then there's Blaine and I. I feel his eyes on me everywhere I move. I sense the need he has to kiss me, to hold me, and yet I resist. We've been doing this dance for too long, now, and while we used to laugh about us being weird, now it's become an uncomfortable issue, to the point where I leave for set right after putting Maggie to bed so that I can avoid being alone with him. We're either going to end up together or completely apart, I realize. There can be no more of this weird in between.

The night shoots begin to take their toll; however hard I try I can't sleep for more than a few hours during the daytime, and by Thursday, I feel like I've been ten rounds with Mike Tyson when I wake up at eleven, after just three hours sleep. I stagger downstairs, in need of Tylenol to end this raging headache, only to hear Blaine at the piano and to find Cooper sitting in the office with Joshua on his lap. He looks up at me and grins.

"Hey there."

"Hi."

"So, your phone was like, going crazy," he says happily. "And Quinn's not here today. Everyone wants interviews, quotes, whatever. I told USA Today and People to fuck off, but I didn't use those words. Any of the tabloid press I told no comment, and then New York Magazine are getting back to me. They wanted an interview about the show and your personal life, and I told them you'd only talk about the show. Uh... what else? Oh yeah. New York Times are sending over a list of questions for you to approve. They promised they wouldn't ask anything personal so I said we'll review the questions and confirm, but I did add that the interview might have to be done via skype or phone since you're so busy. Street Cred, whoever they are, want you to do some modelling for them, I gave them Quinn's info, and then Homme clothing want you in for a shoot for their Fall line. Again, I directed them to Quinn."

Stunned, I sit down in the chair opposite. "Wow. Do you want a job?"

He laughs loudly. "Nah, dude! I fit kitchens!"

"But you're not doing that today?"

"Finished one yesterday, new one tomorrow. Figured I'd visit. Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay. You're always welcome. Is Blaine not working at all this week?"

"He's been given a leave of absence for a few weeks. I think I'm gonna take a few days next week and we'll go up to mom and dad. Maybe take the kids?"

"You don't have to. Polly will be here while I'm away. It's no trouble to ask her to stay over for a few nights."

"I think Blaine would like to take them," Cooper says as gently as he can. "I think he likes being responsible for them."

"Does he?"

Cooper says nothing, just raises one eyebrow and I get up and follow the sound of the music. Blaine sits with Maggie by his side and Alice on his lap, while Polly sits in the corner, listening to them play. It surprises me to see Alice playing a simple melody while Maggie plays underneath; I hadn't realized that Blaine was teaching her, and I certainly wasn't aware of the progress Maggie was making.

"What smart girls," I say when the song is over, and they both beam. "Blaine, you need a payrise."

"Kurt, you haven't paid me since the end of my second week."

"What?"

He shrugs, then laughs. "I haven't exactly been coming for the cash, have I?"

"Why have you, then?"

"For us!" Maggie cries, and she throws her arms around Blaine's neck and squeezes tight. "Blaine comes to see us! That's why he almost lives here and should live here, because you say his apartment is small."

"I'm not getting into that again."

Blaine laughs loudly and for a moment, everything is easier. "So Alice tells me it's her birthday soon. Is that true?"

"It's uh... oh wow. Yes. Yes it is. A little over three weeks."

"Telled you, Bane," she says smugly.

"Yes you did. But you also told me there was a Zebra in the playroom and that turned out to be not true."

She frowns. "It was a little bit true, because I wanted there to be a Zebra in the playroom."

"Right." He looks up at me and winks. "Guess we know what Alice is getting for her birthday, then."

"Not a chance."

"You're up early, anyway."

"Can't sleep."

"Well since you're here... I have another gig Saturday, if you'd like to come?"

"Oh." I can't help the worry that comes with the thought of being seen out in public with Blaine again. "I don't think I can, actually. Getting a sitter and all of that..."

"I'll sit!" Polly is in there like a flash, and for a moment I wonder if it's all been planned out between the two of them. "You need a night out, Kurt, it'll do you good."

"Yeah but I fly to Vancouver the next day, so..."

"Not until midday," she smugly points out, and I know I'm cornered.

"Fine. I'll be there."

And then begins our dance of avoidance; as if by not seeing or really speaking to one another, we can make out like everything is fine. In essence, it is. We talk about, or to, the kids and nothing else. We can joke, be free and easy with one another and it's as if we were back to the beginning again. Only, we're not at the beginning, we're way past that now, with far too much water under the bridge.

We both notice our mutual avoidance, of course, and keep it firmly in place in order that we might make it to Saturday and actually be able to go to the gig without feeling as if the world is about to implode. The trouble is, that there are a lot of well-meaning people who think we need to talk all this out, Cooper being one of them.

He's right.

"Get out," he demands when he arrives on Saturday morning. "Leave. Take Blaine."

"What? I've not been to sleep yet."

"So? I've got three hours, Kurt, before I need to go see a woman about a dog."

"What are you on about?"

"I have a date," he snaps. "So I need to be gone from here by twelve. Take Blaine, go get coffee, and I'll watch the brood."

"Is that entirely safe?"

"Probably not. Blaine!" He hollers up the stairs then runs up them and knocks on his door. "You're going out for coffee with Kurt."

We're thrust out into the bright summer sunlight before either of us really know what is happening, and the paparazzi are mercifully absent owing to some event taking place across town. Blaine looks up and down the street, shrugs, then takes my hand.

"Why?"

"Why not?" he asks. "I've missed you."

Holding his hand feels so right, so wonderful, that I can't protest even though I probably should. Instead, we walk contentedly together towards the park, where we get coffee and find the quietest place possible to sit overlooking the water.

"So Cooper said you might go visit your parents?"

"Is that okay?"

"It's fine. It'll be nice for the kids to see them again. At least you'll have the bed to yourself, right?"

"Nope. Cooper's coming. The girls will have his bed, so I have to suffer him in with me."

"Oh. Ha! I forgot."

"I'd rather it was you."

I close my eyes. "Don't, Blaine, please."

"Sorry. You're right, that's not fair. I apologize."

"I have to ask, did you think anymore?"

"Constantly. God, Kurt, you think I don't torture myself continuously? I've been lying awake at night, trying to figure everything out, and I just..."

"What is it, Blaine? What scares you so much?"

"Everything," he answers honestly. "The depth of my feelings for you, the worry that you might not feel the same. The worry over whether I can get past certain hang-ups, the pure terror I feel over us getting together and then breaking up. The kids, your lifestyle, what I'd do, how I'd live, whether I could cope with the attention, knowing I'll always be considered the failure, always playing second fiddle to your glittering career. The fact that I'm so deeply involved with you, your life, your family, and that I can't in any way imagine a life without you. The thought of you meeting someone else... All of it, Kurt. Every last thing. I'm not brave, I'm not reckless. I'm sensible, I make calculated, logical decisions and there is no logic here at all. Not one damn bit. I know I need to confront it; take the plunge one way or the other, but at the same time, I want to just sit and watch The Bachelor with you, like we used to."

"Same."

He stops, surprised. "Yeah?"

I lean my head onto his shoulder and lace our fingers together. "Yeah. And just so you know? You are not a failure, at all."

"I work in Home Depot, Kurt. My apartment is junk."

"You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met. You rescued me, when I thought my life was ruined. You helped me to fall in love with three little people, and along the way, I think you might have fallen in love with them too. They're happy, safe, secure, and full of love for everyone who's come into their lives because of you, Blaine. You've opened up a world of wonderful music for Maggie and Alice, and though both of them use it in different ways, it's an incredible thing for you to have given to them. It helps Maggie, to escape, to focus on the piano instead of her existence, and little Alice wouldn't be without the joy of it all. You've done all of that, Blaine. Not me, or Polly, or anyone else. You."

He takes a deep breath, trying to hold it all together in public, and then he squeezes my hand. "Thank you," he whispers, looking down at our fingers. "Thank you for always being my biggest fan."

"Well, I assume you're mine too, so..."

"Hmm, I don't know. Marc seemed pretty hell bent on gaining that crown."

"Ooooh Blaine. You did not!"

"I did."

"Fine," I say, mimicking Marc to make him laugh. It works.

"Fine," he repeats, then dares to kiss me on the cheek. "Sorry. I know you said none of that, but you're adorable when you smile like that."

"I'll allow it. Will you play a song for me tonight?"

"Always, Kurt. Always."

Blaine doesn't play the song he wrote for me, that night. In fact, he spends a lot of the evening sharing the stage with Sam. It's not that I don't like Sam, or think he's a good performer, but I'd rather listen to just Blaine on his own, and I tell Cooper that much during one of the songs.

"He said he'd give me a private concert sometime. I'll have to take him up on that."

Cooper chokes on his beer. "Do that, Kurt, and you'll be naked on that piano within ten minutes."

"I will not!"

"Trust me," he says, still laughing. "Blaine has it bad."

"Um, he kinda doesn't," I insist, blushing in the dim light. "That's something he's trying to figure out right now."

"Kurt, my darling boy. When Blaine's away from it all, away from you, he stops and thinks about it and it seems weird. ANY sex seems weird when you think about it in a detached kinda way, but you only have to look his way and he's sizing you up. He's my brother, I know what he's thinking."

"IF, and I really mean IF, he and I did get together, what do you think your parents would say?"

"Hmm. That's difficult. Mama would probably start asking if the kids could call her grandma, I expect, and daddy would most likely try to lecture Blaine about respecting you and your body."

"Oh. Right. So they'd be okay with it?"

"They'd be over the damn moon. So would I. But it's not about us, sadly."

"It's not about me, either, I don't think." I sigh, and turn my attentions back to Blaine, strumming his guitar as Sam sings. "I think it's about one very confused man trying to make sense of it all."

Santana and Dani arrive and I'm glad, because the temptation to bombard Cooper with endless questions is overwhelming. She teases, of course, about the interview, and asks if we've spent all week fucking, but I know she knows everything, because when Blaine takes his break, she quickly calls Sam over to the table and gently suggests I go find Blaine.

He's in the same tiny little corridor as before, and I wedge myself in next to him. He quickly wipes his eyes and smiles. "Good crowd, huh? I mean, they seem appreciative. Did you get recognized? Any hassle? You can go, if you want, don't feel like you..." He stops, studying my face intently. "Oh Kurt," he says quietly, and then we're kissing. I'm unable to say who moved first; possibly we both moved together, but it feels wonderfully, wonderfully right, and I know Blaine gets that vibe too. We're more restrained than we were the first time we kissed; more tender, loving, and soft. It's almost like we're unable to part but eventually we do, of course, and I see it all come crashing down immediately.

Blaine blinks, and drops his head. Then, turning his back on me, he rubs his hands over his face. "Sorry. Shit. Sorry. I don't know what... Sorry." He turns back around, and hugs me hard. "Sorry."

"Blaine..."

"I can't do this, Kurt. I can't."

"You can't do what, exactly? We haven't even established what we both want, because you won't tell me! There's some insane, and I mean really crazy, level of attraction here, but you seem to be horribly offended because I have a dick."

"No, that's..."

"It is! Tell me, then, Blaine. Tell me how you feel. Go on!"

"I..." He shakes his head. "I'll play you a song," he says, and then he hurries back on stage, leaving Sam to rush back to his side.

He waits until the end of the set, until Sam is back at our table, and then he sits at the piano and clears his throat. "One more from me, tonight. For um... For the most incredible person I know."

I could've listed a hundred song possibilities, but when Blaine starts up with Save Me, by Queen, everyone sits in a stunned silence. Blaine's playing is sensational; his vocals raw. Those words etch onto my heart, and each one cuts like a knife.

"Save me, save me, save me, I can't face this life alone."

Under the table, Santana finds my hand, and if she hadn't, I'd have ran. As it is, I sit there, tears rolling down my cheeks, unable to even contemplate what it is Blaine and I truly feel for one another.

"I'll love you, 'til I die."

Blaine brings the song to a close, unsurprisingly to rapturous applause, but I remain seated. I let the adulation flow around me, let the girls line up for selfies with him, grateful that it isn't me this time. I stay in the shadows, and finally, Blaine comes to me, his eyes filled with tears.

"I think I'm really messed up."

"I think you're perfect, but I do think we need to talk. Let's go home."

The silence for our journey home is excruciating, and a stark difference to the giggling, drunken cab journey we had shared last time. When I open the front door, Blaine immediately disappears, leaving me to say goodnight to Polly and make small talk until her cab arrives. The minutes take hours to go by, but eventually, it is just Blaine and I alone, and I find him at the piano.

Blaine is always beautiful, to me, but perhaps never more so than when he's playing. I can't resist resting my hands on his shoulders and kissing into his hair, and when he lifts his face up, eyes closed, I lean down and kiss his lips softly.

"I'm sorry I'm such a massive letdown," he says, continuing to play. "I feel like erasing myself and my whole life right now."

"Because you have a crush on a guy?"

He frowns. "Because I'm so scared."

"I think it's understandable. I can't pretend I like it, but I do understand."

"Why are you being so patient?"

"I think you know why."

He gives a bitter, tight smile. "I wanted to have an answer for you before you went to Vancouver. I wanted to have everything sorted out in my head."

"But?"

"But it's more confused than ever. There's so much I want to say to you, Kurt. I just need to find the words to say it."

"You will. I'll tell you one thing, though, If I can?"

He stops playing and turns to face me, and I kneel down in front of him. "Only you can save yourself, Blaine. You don't have to live this life alone, but you have to decide what it is you want. I can't be a part-time lover, a best friend with benefits. I can be all or nothing."

He nods, and fixes those beautiful eyes on mine. "I know."

I wait, but there's nothing else forthcoming and so, with a heavy heart, I take myself from the room and upstairs to bed, where I lie for over two hours staring up at the ceiling. I hear Blaine coming up the stairs, hear him taking his shower, and then I realize he's probably doing the same, just down the hall; lying there, waiting for time to pass.

"Blaine?"

He lies on his side, his back to the door, and though he doesn't answer, he does lift the duvet, inviting me in. Closing the door quietly, I spoon myself around him, pressing my bare chest against his back. I feel him shudder.

"Tell me to go," I whisper, my lips brushing his hair.

But his only response is to pull my right arm tighter around his waist, keeping me in place. With Blaine in only a small pair of boxer shorts, and me just wearing pyjama pants, it's impossible not to notice the longing between us. Just the steady, rhythmic sound of his breathing gets me going, and I feel myself growing hard no matter how desperately I mentally try to stop it.

I feel him twitching, his body growing tense, and I make to pull back, but again, he pulls me closer, and this time, he moves my hand lower, encouraging me to palm over his erection.

There are a million and one reasons why I should stop this, why we should both be adult and realize this is not a good thing to be happening, but there's one reason why we can't; because we want each other so desperately that it's impossible to ignore.

Dropping a kiss to his shoulder, I do as he directed, and I'm rewarded with the release of a long, shaking breath. I know he can feel me, equally as aroused, pressed tight against him, and I dare to be bold, slipping my hand inside of his underwear.

Screwing his eyes shut, Blaine gasps, and then bites the edge of the pillow, which in turn, drives me crazy. My cock is straining rigid in my pants, and I have Blaine in my hand, working him over, but I still find it within myself to say "We shouldn't..."

He turns, catching me in a deep, burning kiss as he fumbles to push his own underwear down followed by my pyjamas. "Want you," he murmurs against my lips. "Oh god, Kurt, I want you so bad. It's you. It's always gonna be you."

His hand closes around me, and his words become something that I dwell on later, because the intense pleasure I feel can surely only be because this is Blaine, and not anyone else. He isn't perfect; why would he be when he's trying to mirror something he's only ever done to himself? But he is hot, wanting, willing, and for this moment, mine.

Again we are rushed, and again we choose to chase our impending orgasms instead of taking our time to savor the occasion, but maybe it's what we both need right now. It's certainly what we both want. Our knuckles bang together as we struggle to keep up our pace and make out at the same time, and when Blaine moves his lips to my neck and bites there, I know I'm finished.

I give no warning, and it happens just as Blaine kisses me again, meaning my yell is muffled, thank goodness. Blaine gasps as he feels my wetness on his hand and also running down his cock.

"Oh shit!" He looks down, unable to see anything in the darkness, but he knows it's there and it drives him wild. "Kurt that's so hot. So... Kurt... Oh, Kurt."

And yes, I'm elated that he calls my name as he comes, happier still that he pulls me close, into a sticky, sweaty mess, and I feel like my heart might burst when, a good five minutes later, he gently cleans us both, then kisses my cheek.

"You look completely wild."

Pulling my pyjama pants on, I try to laugh, but it's not forthcoming. "It's dark, how can you tell?"

"Because the height of your hair is insane, and your cheeks are all hot."

I bring one had to the back of his neck and kiss his lips. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Oh no you don't, Hummel." He slides back under the cover and holds his arm out. "Get in."

I shouldn't sleep there, but I do, and wrapped tight in Blaine's arms, no less. We sleep soundly, and are only woken by the arrival of Maggie and Alice, who both yell their surprise at finding me in Blaine's bed.

"You had a sleepover!" Maggie says, climbing on top of me.

"With cuddles," Alice adds, sliding under the cover between the both of us. "'Lo, Bane. 'Lo, Kurtie."

"Hi, Alice." I can't help but find them amusing, and after kissing them both, I run across the hall to fetch Joshua, who seems equally as pleased that we're all in the same bed.

"Blaine, Kurt gives good cuddles, don't he?" Alice asks, and I turn to him with a smile. It quickly fades, though, when I see Blaine looking up at the ceiling, utterly stricken with guilt and fear.

"I don't know what... why..." he starts, then pulls himself out of bed as quick as a flash. "I gotta go, kids. I'll be back later. Be good."

Pulling on his clothes from the night before, he doesn't even look at me as he kisses each of the kids goodbye.

"Good luck in Vancouver," he mumbles, and then he tears down the stairs and is gone.