Kurt: Hi.

Blaine: Someone's up past their bedtime.

Kurt: Then maybe you should go back to sleep, then.

Blaine smiled inwardly. He became fond of it; the defensive rudeness. He knew it wasn't meant to hurt anyone, but rather to protective measure. It could make one wonder how many years of ridicule he had to endure just to perfect the art.

Blaine: Ha. Can't. Noisy neighbors.

Kurt: So you've moved out?

Blaine: Yeah. The house was Seb's.

Kurt: Oh. I'm sorry.

It was peculiar how casual he felt about all of this. The fact that he was discussing his private life at one in the morning with someone he hadn't even been on a first name basis with a few months prior. If someone had told him a year ago what his life would become he'd have had a good laugh over it. It was just too far-fetched. He'd never been one to color outside of the lines.

Blaine: Don't worry about it. I've got my eyes on someone else.

Kurt: Do I know him?

Blaine: You might know him. He's in one of my classes, a little taller than me. Which is totally depressing. But he's witty. And has a very…original fashion sense. But above all else he's a really sweet guy.

Kurt: He sounds like a weirdo.

Blaine laughed.

Blaine: Shut up. He's perfect.

Kurt: I strongly doubt that..where are you now?

Blaine had a few friends in Lima that may have had space for him. But he didn't want to be a burden. More than that, he realized almost all of his friends in Ohio were also friends with Sebastian. And if everyone found out about Blaine breaking up with him they'd probably side with Sebastian, too. Because there was something about the Smythe charm that had everyone captivated. His ex could cast a binding spell with a smile, something that used to be inspiring but had more recently become problematic.

So rooming with any of his "friends" wasn't an option.

Blaine: A hotel. It's temporary.

Kurt: Can I visit?

Blaine figured Kurt to be joking. He had trouble telling sometimes. He was the kind of person to say normal things in a sarcastic manner, yet approach the most whimsical of topics with severity and seriousness.

Blaine: It's very sleazy.

Kurt: I happen to be a huge fan of sleazy hotels.

Blaine decided he was definitely joking. Which was good because he wasn't sure how he'd have reacted if he wasn't.

Blaine: In that case, sure.

Kurt: Okay. What's the address?

Blaine: I was kidding.

Kurt: Already getting out of bed. Where are you?

Blaine would be lying if he said a small part of him was thrilled, even found it a bit sexy that Kurt wanted to sneak out in the middle of the night just to see him. But the whole reason the two of them worked was because Blaine had a sense of balance, he knew when to push boundaries and when to abide by the rules.

Blaine: It's a school night.

Kurt: I'm very aware. Now, for the last time, what is your location?

Blaine: Are you serious?

Kurt: Deadly so.

Blaine: 1206 Steuben. Room six. I apologize for the noisy neighbors ahead of time.

Kurt: On my way. And I'm sure we'll live.

By the time Blaine managed to stop staring numbly at his phone, contemplating what the hell just happened he glanced at a clock and figured he had about fifteen or so moments before Kurt arrived. The least he could do was look presentable.

"Where're you going?" Finn mumbled tiredly, standing in the doorway of Kurt's bedroom and squinting at him; his eyes not yet adjusted to the light.

"Out." Kurt answered airily, throwing his satchel over his shoulder and hoping that Finn wouldn't ask where. Mostly due to the fact that he didn't think that far ahead as to have an alibi explaining where he would be headed at 1:30 in the morning.

"…kay?" Finn shamelessly scratched under his left armpit. "Have fun. Bring me back something."

He lumbered down the hallway, not even sparing Kurt a second glance. Kurt didn't question it and headed out the front door before Finn was awake enough to actually have proper judgment.

It wasn't until he was actually behind the wheel that Kurt started panicking. Which in hindsight probably put him as well as every other driver on the road in serious danger. But the fact was this: he was sneaking out. Like, properly sneaking out. To meet a guy at a hotel and oh my god he was way more badass than any of the Skanks at McKinley, far more scandalous than all of Quinn Fabray's sophomore year, he was the epitome of hardcore.

The only bummer was that he couldn't tell anyone. Oh well. It was his sacrifice for the sake of greatness.

He pulled up to the address to see a decent sized hotel that he vaguely recalled his Aunt Mildred staying in when she visited several years ago—Aunt Mildred hadn't gotten along with his Mom and refused to stay at the house—and he couldn't help but think if that was Blaine's idea of sleazy than he was used to way better things than Kurt ever was.

"Don't freak out. No squealing. Keep the eye-rolling to a minimum." Kurt coached himself as he stared into one of his car mirrors. "And for god's sake, no Evita references."

And with that little pep talk and a "go team" he got out of the car and headed into the hotel.

Blaine nearly jumped when he heard the hesitant knocking on his door, thinking there was no way it had already been fifteen minutes. He stood there in shock for a moment when the soft knocks repeated, the sounds echoing through the room like a threat and a promise all at once.

He opened the door and was met with a very strange sight. It was like a photograph he'd seen a thousand times before, but slightly altered. It was Kurt, but watered down, uncharacteristically relaxed and dawning pajama pants. And carrying a satchel. Naturally.

"I wasn't really sure what you had in mind for this visit so I brought movies just in case." Kurt said, bristling past a dumbfounded Blaine and setting his bag down on the bed. "Are you alright?" He asked a little self-consciously.

"I'm…fine. It's just a little weird? Seeing you. Here." Blaine wanted to kick himself; he had never been one with words.

"Oh." Kurt said pointedly, and for a moment Blaine feared he offended him, but then, "It is pretty weird, isn't it? I mean…I hardly recognize you without the bowtie."

Blaine grinned goofily. "I could always put one on? If it would make you feel better…"

"I'm sure I'll manage." Kurt assured, laughing a little.

That was possibly Blaine's favorite thing about being with Kurt. He just got things, and awkward moments, though frequent, were often brief between them.

Just like that the tension was dissolved.

"Meryl Streep's so perfect." Kurt said wistfully. "Isn't she just perfect?"

"Uh…yeah. Definitely." Blaine said as the credits rolled across the screen. The truth was he had more trouble paying attention to the movie then he'd want to admit. His brain was mostly short-circuiting from the fact that he had Kurt in his bed. Or, more legally specific, a minor.

"I have more movies if you wanted to…wait. Can we order room service?!" Kurt asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Blaine said, watching as Kurt visibly deflated. "It's really late. We both have school tomorrow. You should probably get going."

"I thought I was staying over." Kurt said a little dejectedly.

"Won't your parents-"

"I'll leave by six, be in bed by six fifteen, they'll be up by six thirty, then I'll-"

"Okay, fine. Only because I'd hate to see your brilliantly thought out plan go to waste." Blaine said with a slight air of mockery, laughing full out when Kurt scowled at him.

"Tell me something about you I don't know." Blaine said in a hushed tone, and Kurt wondered if he realized how faulty that command was. After all, it required thinking, and Kurt had no hope of doing any of that when his (boy)friend was close enough that Kurt could see the stubble on his chin.

He briefly wondered if all of his imperfections were magnified under Blaine's gaze.

"I guess I'm insecure." was the first thing he managed to blurt out. He might as well list off all of his problems e.g. anxiety, his dust allergy, extreme scrap-booking…

"You certainly don't need to be." No lecture, no three-act long play about how Kurt should love himself because he was perfect. Just an observation. Clinical and straight to the point. But there was something more behind it, especially accompanied by what Kurt was sure were Blaine's fingertips sliding down the dip of his back.

No squealing, Kurt thought harshly to himself.

"You're delusional." He opted to say instead

"I'm being honest." Blaine said, trailing his fingers to ghost over Kurt's hip, barely under his shirt but enough to set Kurt's skin on fire.

Kurt opened his mouth to say something but then Blaine abruptly pulled his hand away, as if he had felt the flame too, except instead of giving him a warm feeling it gave him third degree burns.

"Aren't you tired?"

Kurt nodded. "But sleep and I don't always agree."

Blaine wasn't surprised by that. Everything about Kurt screamed insomniac, from his short attention span to his blatant disregard of social constructs such as time. It always worried him, how tired Kurt seemed sometimes, but hearing confirmation of what he suspected made it even worse.

"Has something been bothering you lately?"

"Not really."

Blaine figured that was all the answer he would get and almost dropped the subject until—

"It's just...it's hard, you know? To just let myself…fall asleep. It's hard."

Blaine knew what he meant, always understood the subtext behind what Kurt said. It's almost as if he didn't trust himself to fall asleep, didn't trust his body to know when to wake up again.

And the thought that Kurt was dealing with something that heavy, having thoughts that dark at such a young age worried him beyond belief. It sounded terrifying, his heart aching just thinking about it. He knew a bit about Kurt; knew he'd experienced loss at a very young age. And from the sounds of it, he never sought out help; never saw a grief counselor of any kind.

And so years later he was still that little kid,that young soul scared of the dark.

"But you could sleep, if you want. I'll be quiet."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm not tired." Blaine lied, kissing his forehead and pulling him close. "We don't…we don't have to sleep. We could just talk."

And so they did. They talked for a while, Blaine about his family and his friends, Kurt about his fairly new living arrangement and the latest gossip circulating around the school.

Kurt eventually did fall asleep, his exhaustion getting the better of him and pulling him in. And it was only the sound of his calm, measured breathing that assured Blaine it was okay for him to fall asleep, too.

The next morning Kurt woke up slightly disoriented. Once he glanced over his shoulder he was greeted by the sight of Blaine Anderson at rest. He'd never seen him more peaceful looking in his life; the man was constantly worrying over something minute. Kurt experienced one more moment of bliss before he remembered. His hair.

As if sensing he was being watched, Blaine started to wake up. Completely distraught, Kurt knew of no other option than to hide under the sheets.

"Don't open your eyes."

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"You can't see my bed hair. It's hideous."

"Oh, come on. It can't be any worse than my hair." A pause. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

Kurt, without thinking, emerged from under the sheets long enough to grab the nearest pillow and hit him with it. "That's highly inappropriate."

Blaine laughed and that simply fueled Kurt's rage. "It's not that bad. Your hair, I mean."

And that's how Blaine joined the club—if five individuals could be called a club— of people allowed to see Kurt's hair before he styled it in the morning.

"Question. Does this mean I can take a nap in Chemistry class without being yelled at?" Kurt asked on his way out of the door. "Because I only got four hours of sleep. And studies show that-"

"Don't test me, Hummel."

Kurt shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"Next time, maybe we should try for the weekend?" Blaine suggested.

A few weeks ago Kurt wouldn't have been too sure a next time was guaranteed. So he had no real objections.

"Sure." Kurt gave him a peck on the cheek. "See you at school?"

Blaine smiled. "Yeah. See you."

And just like that Kurt was out of the door. After showing up barely announced—in Blaine's book a fifteen minutes notice was not a notice at all.

But maybe that's exactly what Blaine needed. Barely announced visits. It wasn't what he was used to, but what he was used to wasn't great either. So he welcomed the change.