A/N: I want you all to know that, in a different universe, this scene would have 100% happened at a Timmies. On that note, this chapter is extremely Canadian (leave me a review if you notice anything). Please forgive me.

Chapter warnings: mentions of homophobia and sexual assault, strong language

Chapter Fourteen: Sweet Boy

The air was sweeter outside his little hospital room, even so close as the cafeteria; Kurt couldn't have imagined ever being more comfortable in one of those plastic chairs he used to hate at McKinley. Even brown walls, once bland and uninviting, which enclosed him into the large room seemed to have more character than the white ones he was accustomed to, despite his friends and family's attempts to brighten up the room with notes, flowers, and gift baskets that lasted hours at most in Finn's hands.

Blaine's toothy grin stole his attention away from the mud-coloured walls. "Nice, huh? I'm here almost every day for rounds, and I stopped letting Wes pack me a lunch after Sebastian started making fun of me for it… which, unfortunately, leave me with frozen egg salad."

"Almost every day?" Kurt repeated, sounding a little stunned. "I can't believe it took us so long to find each other."

"That was my fault," he admitted sheepishly. "I told you, I'd been keeping an eye on you since you came in. I wish I'd come and found you as soon as Finn told me you wanted to see me."

Kurt swiftly changed the subject, that familiar uneasy insecurity returning, the anxiety that had no root and couldn't be killed. "What's good here?"

A mischievous expression crossed the student's face. "Wait here." Tapping his foot impatiently, Kurt waited with bated breath until Blaine returned with a baggie in one hand and a multi-cup holder in the other. He set one of the paper cups down in front of Kurt, and the smell of coffee wafted up into his nose. Blaine made a face (an awfully adorable one). "Coop told me decaf only for you, so I got two. We can suffer together."

"And what's in th-the bag?" He asked as he freed the cup of its lid to allow the hot air to seep out, hovering a hand over it to warm his cold fingers in the December chill. Kurt sighed, a glimpse of normalcy opening a wide hole in his heart. He took a tentative sip, moaning quietly at the bittersweet taste of all-nighters and early mornings. "God, Blaine, it's perfect."

Kurt looked up at the man's sudden silence, only to find his cheeks a muted red colour that complimented the brown walls. Blaine cleared his throat, grabbing the paper bag. "I hoped you'd like it. I had to guess, but you seemed to have a sweet tooth if that tapioca pudding was anything to go by."

"That pudding is the only edible thing I've gotten in the last two weeks," Kurt defended, folding his arms across his chest.

"I don't doubt it." Blaine pulled a donut hole out of the bag, extending it towards him. "No one can convince me that donut holes aren't better than regular donuts. It's twice the donut in one bite!"

"And twice the glaze," Kurt agreed, stuffing the whole thing in his mouth.

An agreeing hum escaped through Blaine's lips. "See, I knew there was a reason I chose you."

Kurt smirked. "Right, because my taste is-"

"Exquisite," Blaine completed instinctively. His already flushed cheeks deepened in colour, and Kurt's heartbeat quickened.

"I…" Embarrassed, the boy took another sip of his deliciously, yet unfortunately decaffeinated mocha. "Th-That's… very kind. But, um, you're one to talk. You have quite the eye for bowties."

Kicking himself internally, the med student groaned, pushing his palms into his forehead. "Really, you should've seen the one I wore to senior prom."

"Oh?" Interest piqued, Kurt leaned forward, resting his chin on his fists. He had the sudden urge to cross his legs but held back, knowing it would be excruciatingly painful in a few seconds. "Well, now I have to see a picture. Especially having heard th-the t-tales of your affinity for hair gel."

"No, nope, never happening." Blaine buried his face in his drink, inhaling the calming steam.

"You've gotten to see me in high school." Kurt pouted, all red lips and bright, playful eyes, and Blaine thought for a moment he might have died all those years ago and the last ten years had been a cruel joke in purgatory until he'd just now reached heaven to be blessed with such a sight. And then he dug his fingernails into his palm, realizing how awful that thought had just been. The pain was welcome.

He cleared his throat again, walls coming back up. "Yeah, I have, haven't I." High school. It seemed like a whole other life ago. The weight of those seven years settled on his shoulders, like it would be there for a long, long time.

Kurt pulled back, sensing a shift in the atmosphere of their conversation. "I didn't mean… Blaine, do we need to talk about this?"

Every time he heard his name in Kurt's soft voice, his stomach flipped - whether it was from affection or nausea, he couldn't tell. Maybe it was both. "Talk about what?" he feigned.

"Please don't d-do that," the boy pleaded. "I'm trying to be an adult here and have a mature conversation, but I can see whenever you put those walls up."

"You're not an adult," Blaine muttered, more to himself than to Kurt. Still, he never meant to be the cause of that flash of hurt in Kurt's eyes, never in a thousand years. He recoiled as it registered in his head. "Kurt, I-"

"I d-don't know what's going on in your head right now," Kurt said calmly, "but whatever it is, you need t-to get it sorted, because you're the one acting like a child right now."

"You're right. I'm sorry." They sat together in silence for a moment, the whirl of steam growing thinner as time passed. Blaine absent-mindedly took a sip of his coffee again to find it cold and bitter. Neither of them wanted to speak first; he sighed and broke the stalemate. "I know you're an adult."

"I'm seventeen," Kurt insisted. He couldn't explain why it was so important to him that Blaine understand this, but it was. Excruciatingly important. "Turning eighteen in March. Th-That's less than four months away. And even d-despite my age, I've been through a lot. I can't say I've been a kid since I was eight years old."

"I know, I know." Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. "It's just that my life has felt a lot longer than it has been. I've seen things at this very hospital that you couldn't even imagine. The path I've chosen, well, it takes a certain kind of emotional detachment, doesn't it? That's been the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

"Oh," Kurt said.

Blaine opened his eyes, and they were coated with just a thin layer of tears, enough that he could blink away freely without a single one escaping. "I think… I think I failed at that, with you. Otherwise this," he gestured across the table towards the boy, "wouldn't be happening right now."

"I think you're rationalising being d-disappointed in yourself," Kurt evaluated, reaching across the table and taking his hand into his own. They were calloused and not at all smooth, but somehow more comfortable than his goose feather duvet at home. "Th-There is nothing akin to failure about us. Not a thing. Your friendship has freed me, Blaine. I wish you had had… someone like you, at my age."

New tears rose, these ones harder to blink away. Blaine wiped at his cheek subtly with his sweater sleeve, suddenly thankful he wasn't swearing his short-sleeved scrubs. "How did you ever get so wise?" he wondered aloud, clinging gently to their clasped hands. "I'm sorry I ever doubted your maturity."

"I don't think you ever did," Kurt replied, smiling with those twinkly eyes. "I think my maturity just scares you."

Oh, how true that was. "Yes, I'm so threatened," he deadpanned. "Please, Kurt, don't destroy me with your psychoanalysis."

"Too late for that," the boy replied cheekily, leaning over to tap the man's nose. "I have seen into your very soul, and it is frightening." He used a ghost voice on the last word, waving his hands in the air ridiculously.

"You're a dork," Blaine laughed, swatting his hands away. It dawned on him that they had been arguing just a few moments ago - how could anyone be so disarming? To Blaine, who had arguably never in his life seen a healthy relationship apart from that of his brother (which had ended as tragically as a relationship could), it was shocking and unnerving and… promising.

A friendship, he corrected himself. Friendships were relationships, though. Right? He settled for overlooking the entirely harmless distinction.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Kurt shot back, holding out with his serious expression for a whole three seconds before collapsing into giggles. He winced quickly, grasping at his stomach, and Blaine stopped.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, standing from his seat. Kurt waved him down, nodding.

"It's nothing, j-just t-t-too much excitement," he joked through the pain, breathing heavily through his nose for a few beats before releasing his abdomen. "See? All gone."

Blaine gnawed at his lip. "Kurt, if you're in pain, maybe we should head back to your-"

"If you say my room, I will beat you up," he hissed. "I only just got out of th-there."

"But your injuries-"

"Are healing well, like your brother said," Kurt fought, tooth-and-nail. He softened, imploring. "Please, Blaine. I've been in th-that room for over a month. Even if I only remember a f-few weeks, my… body remembers all of it."

"Okay," Blaine accepted. "Alright. Just tell me if it gets worse, please. You're the most important thing, always." He kicked himself again for the slip of his tongue. "Your safety, I mean."

"I will, promise." Kurt rolled his eyes playfully. "You really take after your brother."

"That's not genetically possible," Blaine rambled. "Technically, my brother and I could share certain traits, but they would be derived from my mother and father, not him, as he's only my brother and therefore didn't pass any genetic material on to me."

The boy blinked at him. "You're ridiculous."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "So are you."

"You're… ridiculous in a d-different way."

"A worse way?"

"No," Kurt replied immediately, flushing slightly under his gaze. "Not at all. In your way."

They smiled at each other, tender in a moment that they both cherished for its lightness, its openness, its freedom. A moment which encompassed exactly why they were both drawn to each other, which cocooned them in its warmth like a loving mother, like the return of something missing.

"Blaine? What are you doing here?" asked a dulcet yet raspy voice. Kurt turned his head to see the woman, a soft-skinned brunette with blue-green eyes like a tropical ocean.

Blaine perked up like a child in a candy store. "Marley! I could ask you the same thing. I thought you were going to sleep in?"

"I was, but Wes makes the best French toast, and I wasn't going to wait until noon to reheat it, and then I figure why not visit some of my old patients before the next rotation," she explained exuberantly. Her energy was infectious, even at such an early hour, and Kurt immediately liked her. She cocked her head towards him, curiosity swimming in her expression. "Who's this? I didn't know you were seeing someone, B."

"Oh, um… We're not…" Blaine scratched the back of his head nervously. "Marley, this is my friend Kurt. Kurt, this is my temporary roommate and colleague, Marley."

"I've heard a lot about you," Kurt disclosed politely, holding out a hand for her to shake. She took it quickly, and her hands were just as soft as they looked. He kept it to himself that he preferred the calloused, telling hands of the man across from him.

"It's all true," she joked, letting go of his hand. "I'd say the same, but… wait a minute. Did you say Kurt? Like the Kurt you mentioned that night you got blackout drunk and made out with the bartender?"

"I didn't make out with him," Blaine defended, horror creeping up into his gut. He chanced a look at Kurt, whose face was stoic, unexpressive, and make him a little sick to his stomach nonetheless. "I… it was…"

Marley frowned at his reaction. "Jeez, Blaine, lighten up. We were all glad you finally got some action."

"No! There was no… action." Desperate, Blaine turned to Kurt once more, whose expression had given way to some degree of disgust. It was expected - here Blaine was, telling him stories about how being gay in a small town in Ohio didn't have to mean meaningless drunk hook-ups, how it was important to be true to yourself and not settle for anything less just because there were no options… Some role model he was.

But Kurt wasn't a child - he could figure those things out himself. So maybe it was disappointment in his eyes instead?

Blaine couldn't decide which was worse.

Marley's face had turned serious as she looked back and forth between the two boys. "Sorry. Didn't mean to cause… Um, Blaine, can I have a word with you? Privately?"

He hesitated. "Is it absolutely necessary? I'd rather not leave Kurt on his own."

Kurt glared at him. "I'm perfectly capable of sitting here on my own, Blaine. Like I said earlier, I'm an adult."

"But Cooper said-"

"Honestly, Blaine, I d-don't really care what Dr. Anderson said." It wasn't lost on Kurt how Marley flinched at his momentary stutter, but he ignored it for lack of a better response. "J-Just go. Talk t-to your friend."

"Okay. We'll be… right over there." Blaine and Marley hurried off to the corner, where they could keep an eye on the boy but were well out of earshot. Watching as Kurt popped another donut hole in his mouth, Blaine huffed at his friend, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her his patented bitch face. "What?"

Marley mirrored it right back at him. "Don't give me that. What the fuck is going on between you two? And don't lie to me, I saw the way you looked at him, like there was a reason you didn't want him to know about the bartender."

"The bartender was nothing!" Blaine defended. "It was a drunken kiss. One kiss. That happened the same night that Kurt and I met."

"No, it didn't," Marley insisted. "You mentioned his name to me before that, remember? Something about his…" She trailed off, a look of dread crossing her face. "His heart."

"Yes, that's technically true. We met… that… that happened weeks ago," Blaine explained. "Almost exactly a month, actually. The night of the code orange."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "He was… one of the pedestrians who got attacked by that truck driver?"

"No." Blaine shook his head, solemn. "It was the same night, but he came in later. A group of kids attacked him at school within an inch of his life, and…" He gasped in a breath, pinching the space between his eyebrows. The rest of the story wasn't his to tell. "And I helped Cooper save him, since there was no one else who could. The E.R. was so full, Marley, and there was so much noise, so much blood, so much pain…"

"Dear God," she whispered, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, Blaine. I had no idea."

"No, you did the best thing - you were my friend." Blaine took another large gulp of air before continuing. "I really did meet Kurt that night. I'd been sitting outside his hospital room since he came in, just watching over him, but that night he opened his eyes and saw me. It was never meant to happen that day. I never wanted it to, not when I was still half drunk and half hungover. I wanted it to be…"

"Special?" Marley supplied. At Blaine's weak nod, she asked gently, "Why did it have to be special? Because he was the first patient you saved?"

"No, because…" Blaine clenched his fists. "Because I care about him."

"Is that why you didn't want him to know about the kiss?"

"I'm trying to show him that he can have everything he wants," Blaine tried to explain. "I don't want him to think that all that's left for him in this town or any is a meaningless kiss with a bartender. And I certainly don't want him to regret anything he does with anyone the way I regret half of my past relationships. I want to be the one who keeps him from all that unnecessary pain."

She must have seen something in his face because she didn't ask any more questions. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I understand." She tightened her grasp on his arm, and suddenly she was tugging him back towards their table, sitting him back down in his chair across from Kurt before taking another seat. She turned to face Kurt and said matter-of-factly, "Blaine has only had a one-night stand once."

"Marley!" Blaine shouted, horrified. "What the fuck?"

"It was two years ago, and he was pissy after for weeks," she continued. "But he's been in a few relationships, meaningful ones, and they meant more to him than anything. He's a lover."

"Jesus Christ," the man muttered, burning red face in his hands. He emerged to glance at Kurt, who was staring at him with curious, hesitant eyes. He groaned. "I promise I did not ask her to say this."

"Be quiet, I'm older than you," she shot back, waving a dismissing hand in his face.

He rolled his eyes, muttering, "One year, and I'm going to graduate younger."

"Is th-there a point to this?" Kurt asked, half-annoyed and half-amused.

"The point is that he's not a hypocrite, and certainly not a liar, so I think you two should talk out whatever this is," she gestured between them, ignoring Blaine's protesting noises, "before this one's stubbornness makes an ass of him."

"Marley Judith Rose, I swear-"

"I know you swear. I guess you think it makes you sound like a badass. Sometimes I wonder what you're overcompensating for, and then I remember it's your height." Blaine sputters indignantly, spurred on by the involuntary snickers coming from Kurt. Standing up to leave, she continued, more gently and directed at Blaine, "Just tell him what you told me. Jesus, you boys are stunted emotionally."

"That's sexist," Blaine teased half-heartedly as she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, of course it is," she dismissed. "I'll watch my mouth if you open yours. See you at rounds tomorrow, Anderson."

"You're doing peds next?" he asked, shocked at the new information.

"Unfortunately," she replied, nose wrinkling with revulsion. "Children, am I right?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"You just did. Bye, babe. I'm going to go bug your good-looking, straight older brother." She kissed his cheek before flouncing off to join the coffee line. She emerged the other side with two coffees, caught Blaine's eye, and winked maddeningly.

He sighed. "If she hates children, she's barking up the wrong tree with that one."

Kurt stifled a laugh. "I'm not sure if you're referring to your brother as the child or to his child."

"Both?" Blaine offered. He played with the rim of his cup which contained coffee far too cold. "I really miss that kid."

"You said she was with your mom in Westerville? Th-That can't be more than a two-hour drive."

"Coop and I are going to see her and mom on the weekend," Blaine revealed. "I… I guess I won't be here, then."

Kurt tried to control his face, but he could feel it falling despite that. "I'm glad you'll see her again."

Blaine looked hopeful, then. "Would you… text me during the ride? To pass the time?"

"I could do that," Kurt agreed readily. Nervously, the boy wrung his fingers. "Um, what did your friend mean when she said to t-tell me what you told her?"

The med student sighed. "Marley's a lot. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I d-didn't mind. She seems nice and, well, fun. Besides the part where you t-two went off and started crying together. I assume th-that was about me?"

"Shit, I didn't mean for you to see that either," Blaine groaned. "I guess I thought as adults we would be able to not cry in public, but we're just kids at heart."

"Blaine, stop stalling. Just t-tell me."

"Okay, sorry." He averted his eyes onto the table, tracing the scratches with a calloused finger. Something about looking at Kurt's attentive, reassuring smile would make him want to cry again, and they couldn't have that, not when Blaine was trying to be the adult. "I just want you to know that you never have to settle for less than what you want. Even in this godforsaken town."

"Then why d-did you?" Kurt asked. "I mean, if you wanted a hook up it's fine. I really don't care, Blaine. I'm just saying, if that's not what you wanted…"

He squeezed his eyes shut, memories flooding his mind. "It was the night we first met. The night I lost that patient in rounds. I was distraught, Kurt. I needed comfort, and I was drunk, and it was stupid."

"You're starting to sound like you cheated on me," Kurt pointed out. "This is about you, not me. Please d-don't forget that because it's important."

"You're right, and it wasn't the right kind of comfort," Blaine declared. "It didn't help. Then I went back to the hospital and sat outside your room, trying to study for my exam with a splitting headache, and then I reached for my pills only to drop my textbook-"

"And I heard the sound, and I saw you," Kurt finished. "You never meant f-for us to meet."

"Not that night. Not while I was… in that state," he confessed, hanging his head. "I didn't want to scare you off, because I thought you might need a friend."

"And now I have one," Kurt said, taking his hand and smiling that reassuring smile that made Blaine want to cry.

Blaine's eyes met his, intense. "You gave me comfort. Not the bartender, or anyone else. Everyone was wrong about you needing me - you're the strongest, bravest, and cleverest person I know. But me? I needed you." He smiled softly. "I guess that means I'm selfish."

"Or it means you're human," Kurt argued. "Everyone needs people, even me. I had my family and my friends. I didn't… I didn't need you, Blaine, and if you needed me, it was only for that one night. But I want you as my friend, and I think that's what makes us so special."

Blaine played with the boy's fingers. "You're so articulate," he murmured. "That's exactly what I wanted to say, I just didn't know how. I think Wes would like you. He would tie you in a chair and make you say things all day."

"Blaine?" Kurt said.

"Hmm?"

"Your roommate sounds like a bit of a weirdo," Kurt expressed, suppressing his laughter until they both let it out together. The pain that followed was less than before, and it made him grin into the clenching of his teeth. "Honestly, I don't know if that's a kink, but it definitely sounds like one."

"You never know with Wes," Blaine mused. As Kurt's bold words set in, though, he turned tomato red once more, complimenting the stripes on his winter sweater. "Jesus, Kurt! You can't just say-"

The boy kept laughing at his expense, pulling him up by the hands where they were joined. "Come on, doctor," he teased, "let's go call my dad to see how the New Directions are doing before the competition."

"Whatever you say," Blaine teased right back. "The patient is always right."

"I believe the saying is 'customer,' not patient."

"Well, I'm selling you on my adorable charm and undeniable wit."

"Marley was right," Kurt contemplated. "You really are overcompensating for your height."

"You take that back!"

Kurt stared at Blaine, appalled, his eyes wide open like saucers as he reconsidered every moment of his life since freshman year. "You're kidding me, right?"

"I'm really not," Blaine replied solemnly. "It's obvious enough. I thought you knew."

"I most certainly did not know that the name of our Glee club sounds like…" He trailed off, shivering.

"Nude erections," Blaine finished for him, his serious expression breaking out into a bemused grin. "You can say the word kink but not that? I'm seriously confused by you, Kurt Hummel. Also, how on earth did none of you figure that out? I thought it was on purpose."

Kurt was the colour of a strawberry field - red from embarrassment and green from the sickness in his stomach. Both were pretty colours of his smooth skin. "I could have graduated without knowing that. How am I ever going to look Mr. Schue in the eyes again?"

Blaine placed a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm really sorry, Kurt. I genuinely thought you knew."

"No, it's fine," Kurt sighed. "Better I heard it from you than Puck. He'd have thrown a lewd joke in with it."

"Oh, I would have too but you're a minor," Blaine replied seriously. Kurt wacked his arm before hiding his burning face into that same arm and groaning loudly. The man chuckled, patting Kurt's hair softly as he clung to his bicep. He hummed, only half-joking, "There, there, sweet boy."

His words only made Kurt groan louder.

A loud, gruff voice boomed from the phone speaker where it lay between them on Kurt's bed. "Alright, I think I've got it now. Can you hear me, Kurt?" His father asked, followed by a bustling noise as he tried to make the device work. It was just past seven o'clock at night, and the two boys were cuddled together on the bed, waiting for the competition to begin.

"Yeah, dad," Kurt called back, voice muffled in Blaine's sweater.

"What was that? Kiddo, can you… hello?"

Sighing, Kurt withdrew from Blaine's comfortable arm before speaking into the phone. "Yes, dad, we can hear you."

"Who's we? Is Harry there?" Burt asked absent-mindedly, distant footstep sounds indicating that he was looking for his seat.

Shit. Kurt froze for a moment, turning to look at Blaine, who nodded. "I'm with Blaine, dad. We were planning on listening to the competition together."

The footsteps paused, and the line went silent. "You're with him? The boy we met on Saturday?"

Kurt bit his lip to stop himself from reminding his father that Blaine was far past boy. "Yeah."

"And you two are on your own?"

Dread built up in his stomach at the direction Burt was going with this. "Yes, dad. We're in my room."

"Kurt, take me off speakerphone."

"Dad-"

"Kurt." That was his father's no-nonsense tone; he didn't have much of an option now. He mouthed an apology to Blaine, picking the phone up and bringing it to his ear. Unprompted, Blaine shifted off the bed to the other side of the room to give them some privacy. Kurt's heart fluttered at the gesture, knowing he must have been curious but put it aside for his sake.

"Okay, you're off speaker," Kurt told his father, clenching and unclenching the hand that wasn't holding the phone. "What is it?"

"I don't want you in a room alone with him," Burt deadpanned.

"What?" Kurt shouted, sitting up in bed too fast. He winced and rubbed where the pain appeared, shaking his head at Blaine who had a doomed expression on his face. "Why? Blaine's not t-trouble, I promise. You said so yourself after he told you who he was."

"It's not about… I don't care who he is," Burt explained. "I just don't want you alone in a room with anyone. Not after…"

Kurt bit down harder on his lip as the knot in his throat threatened to swallow him whole. "You didn't mind when you th-thought it was Harry."

"Harry is a nurse."

"Blaine is a d-doctor!" he exclaimed, tears threatening to rise. He knew he was acting like a child - maybe what his father was asking of him was perfectly reasonable. But to him, it was a sign that he thought he was fragile, weak, a victim. "I'm not an easy target j-just because it… because it happened… once."

"Kurt, this is different. Once you have a kid, you'll under-"

"Is it because Blaine's gay?" Kurt asked. It had occurred to him suddenly, and he had to make sure his father wasn't… "Is that why you d-don't want him in the same room but you're okay with Harry?"

His father's silence spoke volumes to him, and the tears he'd been holding at bay burst and streamed down his cheeks. Fuck. He was going to have the worst headache later. Burt's voice piped up, then. "It's not that."

"Th-Then wh-what is it?" He asked, voice cracking. At the doorway, Blaine's heart clenched tightly at the sight, and he wanted desperately to go over there and pull Kurt into his arms; Kurt caught his gaze, and then as though reading his mind, he nodded. Moments later, they were in an embrace, the back of Kurt's head resting against Blaine's chest. Blaine, with his arms wrapped around the boy and his chin resting in his perfect hair, could hear every little noise coming from the phone.

Burt was in the middle of a sentence. "…and you know I like the kid, right? But it's still not okay. I didn't say anything that day because you had this smile on your face and you'd just gone through it with the police and what had happened between you two had, well, already happened, but now that I know what's going on I don't think it's safe for you to be alone, especially not with a-"

"With a gay guy," Kurt finished for him. Blaine's arms tightened around him as his voice broke at the end.

"With someone who might try something," Burt corrected firmly. "This has never been about yours or anyone else's sexuality, Kurt."

"Maybe not consciously," Kurt struggled, "but th-that's what it comes down to, d-dad."

"Can we just… Okay, look, Kurt. You can have him there for Sectionals, but you have to stay on the line with me the whole time. We'll talk about this after. And if he tries…"

"He's not going to," Kurt seethed. Blaine rubbed his arm, and he breathed heavily through his nose, deep, calming breaths. "Fine, dad. I'm putting you back on speaker." It didn't really matter - they all knew that Blaine had heard everything.

Kurt pressed the button, and the sound of a bustling concert hall filled the tiny hospital room. Blaine cleared his throat before speaking. "Mr. Hummel, nice to… speak with you again."

Burt made a gruff noise in response. "Anderson. I trust you heard that conversation."

"Bits and pieces," Blaine confessed. "Enough."

"And I guess you have your objections-"

"No," Blaine answered honestly, despite feeling Kurt stiffen in his arms with the answer. "I understand where you're coming from - what happened was horrible and will never happen ever again if we both have anything to say about it. I need you to know that I would…" Blaine trailed off, reeling back some of the intense things that were about to come out of his mouth far too soon. "I would never force him into anything, and I'm also scared, which is why I understand at least a little. Kurt's not my son, but he is my friend."

"So you'll stay away then? While he's alone?"

"I…" Blaine folded his lips together, shaking his head, more for the benefit of Kurt than either of them. "I will if that's what's best for Kurt. But I will also spend every minute of that convincing you that I'm not someone who would ever in a million years hurt your son."

Kurt whimpered softly. "Blaine, please-"

"I'm sorry, sweet boy," Blaine murmured into his hair, using his endearment once more. Kurt made another small noise - a noise that made him seem small. Blaine never wanted him to feel small; already, he could feel the rift beginning to form. Blaine spoke louder to address Burt. "I know you'll do what's best for Kurt, sir. Which, I hope, means I'll be seeing you soon."

"Hmm," Burt grumbled. "Well, let's just listen to the show for now, why don't we."

After that, Burt placed his phone on his lap, not on speaker so that the sound on Kurt's side wouldn't interfere with the show; with that being set up, Kurt and Blaine could speak freely without his father hearing them, but they could hear the music from the concert hall. As the competition began, they listened to the first group, The Unitards, perform a song from Evita.

"The Unitards," Blaine exclaimed as they were announced. "That's got to be worse than nude-"

"Don't say it again!" Kurt whined, covering his ears as Blaine laughed at his antics. "I swear if my d-dad is listening, he will never let me see you again."

"He's not listening," Blaine murmured in Kurt's ear as his laughter ceased. Kurt shivered, and Blaine pulled his blanket up over their joined form. Kurt didn't correct him, simply snuggling deeper into the warmth.

It turned out that the Unitards' soloist, Harmony, was a talented woman - Kurt remembered her name from one of Rachel's rants. She embodied the soul of the song even through sound only, and Kurt wished desperately he could be there to see it, even if they were the competition. He mouthed parts of the song silently as they listened.

Blaine noticed. "You would sing this song beautifully," he whispered, trying not to drown out the beautiful vocals.

"You've never heard me sing," Kurt shot back, a tad bitter. He tried to school his emotions, but they ran rampant as the familiar, yet strangely disjointed atmosphere made his heart ache with longing.

"No, but I've heard you speak, and it's like bells. I can only imagine you singing."

"I wish you d-didn't have to imagine," he croaked, gently trailing one finger down his throat.

Blaine grabbed that hand, interlocking their fingers. "What if I didn't?" he asked.

Kurt craned his neck to look at Blaine. Was he suggesting…? "You know I can't."

"Do I know that?" Blaine smiled reassuringly at him. "What has Cooper said about it?"

"He…" Averting his eyes, Kurt debated whether to lie; he was almost certain Blaine wouldn't pressure him to sing if he didn't want to. Either way, Cooper wouldn't tell Blaine without Kurt's permission - something about confidentiality. "He said th-there was no physical reason I couldn't sing."

"Hey," Blaine placed a thumb on his chin, bringing Kurt's gaze to his. "We can stop talking about it if you don't want to. When I said I would never force you into anything, I meant anything."

"I know. I trust you." Staring into those open, honest eyes made him want to try. He hadn't wanted to try since the first time, when his throat had been sore for days after and he'd cried himself to sleep every night. Since before he'd met Blaine for real, known Blaine. "Can you…"

"Can I?" Blaine encouraged gently without being overbearing. He was being perfect - Kurt knew he wasn't a perfect person, no one was, but in this moment, he was doing everything right.

Before he knew what he was asking, he said, "Can you sing f-for me?"

"Always," Blaine whispered. By then, the song on the phone had come to a graceful end, like the backtrack to a movie scene fading into silence. Only the scene wasn't ending - it was reaching its very peak, and it had no music. What a shame. They had to amend it.

The silence from the phone stretched as the next group prepared their performance behind the scenes, and the only sounds coming from it were the chattering of the audience, a perfect white noise to calm Kurt's nerves.

Blaine's fingers danced on Kurt's arm as though it housed the keys of a piano. Phantom music filled the air as his honeyed voice began to fill the quiet. "You think I'm pretty without any make-up on," he sang, soft and sweet, as though it would be set to a soft, acoustic piano accompaniment. It was the most beautiful sound Kurt had ever heard in all his seventeen years.

Kurt recognized the pop tune immediately. He'd heard it on the radio in passing a few years ago when it came out but had never really listened until Blaine had sung it to him in his sleep. Now, he knew every word. At the second verse, with only a hint of hesitation that he sent away with the wind, Kurt joined in.

"Before you met me," Kurt sang, "I was alright, but things were kinda heavy."

You brought me to life.

Not expecting this, Blaine backed off at first, stunned at the raw beauty of the boy's voice, the kind of sound that disciples would flock to for their supply of nectar to take back to the gods. He composed himself by the first chorus, and they sang the rest of the song in harmony, closing together, arms around each other, eyes locked in a magnetic gaze.

In a moment of weakness, Kurt thought that maybe Blaine, who broke this magnetic gaze as his eyes fell to the boy's mouth, would maybe be the one to bring redemption to his lips.

Suddenly, Burt's voice came through the speaker, and they broke apart as fast as they had come together. The tension in the air stagnated, fizzling like burgers on a summer grill. "The New Directions are up next," his father said, another shuffling sound accompanied by Carole's voice next.

"Hi Kurt!" she greeted, voice a little muffled, as Kurt greeted her back. "Oh, and Blaine, I believe? Burt said you were there…"

"Hello Mrs. Hudson-Hummel," he replied, no part of him touching Kurt anymore. They sat on opposite ends of the bed, red in the face. "Lovely to hear from you again."

"Please, call me Carole. Mrs. Hudson-Hummel is such a mouthful."

"Of course, Carole," Blaine said through gritted teeth. His heart was pounding in his chest like he was a teenager. "How is the show so far?"

"Oh, it's wonderful," Carole sighed. "I wish you could be here, Kurt."

"Next time," Kurt promised. All at once, he wondered if that promise would include himself on the stage. His fingers found his throat again, tracing, and this time, Blaine did not reach for them. A small smile played on the man's lips, and Kurt watched in awe.

"It's starting," someone said - Kurt couldn't tell who. A hush fell over both rooms - one in a distant concert hall, one in a hospital in a small town in Ohio. What a time it was to be alive.

Brittany and Santana's solo took the first spot in their Michael Jackson medley. Their voices mingled and rose like a phoenix from the fire - passionate yet tender, a small bird with big wings. The other two songs were lovely too, ensemble with Tina and Finn as notable solos. Kurt wondered what it had been like to be in the room with Rachel when she had been given that news; he shuddered, remembering the Maria Incident of '09.

Kurt and Blaine sat in silence throughout the medley, giving their full attention to the performances, but somehow gravitated towards each other at some point, and by the time the New Directions left the stage, they were wrapped up in each other and chatting animatedly about the song selections. Kurt told Blaine about each of his friends and explained who was singing what, maybe slipping in a story or two about Glee club shenanigans, and Blaine regaled the story of Wes's Halloween costume senior year which may have involved a wig and a very bad Michael Jackson impression.

"He d-did not," Kurt gasped. "During class?"

Blaine nodded, laughter bursting from his chest. "Unfortunately. We had to convince the headmaster not to suspend him, for the sake of the Warblers and our lack of ability to pay attention to anyone who didn't threaten us with a gavel."

"Not the gavel again!" Kurt sniggered, remembering the many stories Blaine had told about the infamous Wesley and his pet gavel. "What a love story."

"That could explain why Wes was single the entire year," Blaine mused. "Because we went to an all boys school, and he spent the weekends making sweet, sweet love to a small wooden mallet."

"You're killing me here, Blaine. Th-There's no way that's not a euphemism."

"Kurt!" Blaine wheezed, scandalized. "As his roommate, I can attest to a lack of… wooden mallets in Wes's life."

He held his hands up. "You're th-the one who said it."

The Warblers were, in fact, the next group competing. It was Blaine's turn to tell stories of his escapades at Dalton, explaining that he knew of a few students who were in the club because of Wes's job teaching English at the private school. The kids performed a medley of pop songs that Kurt was familiar with from his Glee club research - they were impressive, but not enough that he was concerned for his friends. Blaine had taken to gasping in faux indignation when Kurt had voiced this opinion but had readily agreed with him.

"I hadn't realized they were performing today," Blaine mused, a hint of nostalgia playing on his voice. "I'll have to check with Wes tonight to see if he went to support them."

"I must know where your loyalties lie," Kurt said seriously, mouth a straight line. "If you betray the New Directions-" Blaine didn't miss his blush as he said the name of the group now, "-You will have to pay."

"I understand," he replied solemnly, bowing his head. "If I must choose, I shall side with thee, my Lord."

"Good decision, my knight." Kurt made a show of tapping each of Blaine's shoulders before the two collapsed into giggles once more. At this point, Kurt thought he might have abs just from laughing so much. His laughter was broken by a yawn, though, and he realized how late it was, and just how tired the long and emotional day had made him.

"Get some rest, Kurt," Blaine mumbled to him as he rolled himself off the bed. His legs were asleep, and he jiggled them as he stood. Unconsciously, Kurt's arm darted out to grab Blaine's, and he mewled in protest. If he'd been more awake, he definitely would have been embarrassed at making such a noise, but Blaine only found it endearing.

"Don't go," Kurt whispered lazily, fingers digging into Blaine's sweater. "Mm, soft."

"I have to go, sweet boy," Blaine whispered back, untangling his fingers and placing them back on the mattress where they fisted into the bedsheets. "Your father would not appreciate me still being here while you were asleep."

"Used to," Kurt mumbled thoughtlessly as he closed his eyes. "Used to, every night."

"Things were different back then," Blaine explained to a far-gone Kurt.

"No. Different bad," he protested.

"Not always," Blaine explained. "Sometimes different is bad, but sometimes it's good. Different brought us together, you know."

A sweet sigh escaped Kurt. "Mm, together. Forever."

The man leaned down, lips brushing softly over his forehead. "Yeah, I think so. For as long as you'll have me."

There was no response then; Kurt's long eyelashes only fluttered against his lids as he sank into the mattress, clawing at his sheets. Helpless to stop himself, Blaine pulled his sweater over his head, left in only a thin t-shirt, and placed it under Kurt's restless hands. The boy pulled the piece of clothing towards his chest and buried his nose into it, stilling finally.

A moment later, he was lost to the world. Blaine smiled at him, rubbing his now bare arms, and somehow not dreading the inevitably cold walk to the bus station. He whispered once more, "Goodnight, Kurt," before shutting off the lights and turning away, not looking back.

What neither of the boys realized was that Burt Hummel, on the other side of town, held his phone to his ears and listened to the soft breathing of his sleeping son, a conflicted frown on his face, before he disconnected the call with a resounding click.

A/N: Oh my, writing this chapter gave me whiplash. I hope you guys are better off than I am.

With that said, as usual, follow me on Instagram NayaWarbler for notifications, previews, and sometimes even fan art! We've really been growing on there, which makes me so happy!

Please leave a review! They make me smile and encourage me to write! :)

Lots of love,

Naya