My Reader - Chapter Ten – Almost Like Being in Love

Kurt woke up with the sun in his face. His first thought was that he forgot to close the drapes the night before, but then he remembered that he'd come in to Blaine during the night. He just could not leave Blaine alone with his nightmares, and besides – he found that he really liked snuggling close to Blaine's warm body.

Blaine was still asleep so Kurt got up and stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower and do his morning skin regimen.

"Kurt?"

"In here. I'm just washing my face, I'll be out in a moment..." Kurt said, patting his skin dry with the soft Egyptian cotton towel. He thought for a moment that he needed to guard against letting these luxuries become habit. He was going to go home to regular terrycloth towels and bar soap bought at the grocery store, not hand-milled French soap. He hung up the soft towel and went back into Blaine's room.

"Good morning! Sorry I was so clingy last night. I was just thinking of my dad leaving for Iceland at the end of the week. I miss him already," Blaine quietly said, maybe not wanting Kurt to hear him.

"Don't worry about it. We're friends, right? That's what friends are for," Kurt assured him, coming over to sit on the bed next to Blaine. He reached down to pull on his socks.

"Friendship's usually a bit more even – more equal, you know?," Blaine pondered. He was usually the one supporting his friends, not the other way around, and it made him uncomfortable. "I don't seem to be doing anything for you."

"Are you kidding?" Kurt asked, flabbergasted. "You brought me to New York! My dream city! Blaine, I don't think being friends means keeping score. I'm happy the way things are, okay?"

Blaine nodded.

"How about breakfast?" Kurt changed the subject. When Blaine agreed, he helped him get dressed and into the wheelchair. On the way to the kitchen, Kurt asked, "How are your eyes today? Can you see anything?"

"I'm sure it's coming. I feel sensitive to light a bit," he disclosed but didn't tell Kurt he could see colors and vague shapes. He was still so insecure about losing Kurt he didn't want to talk about his returning sight.

"How about a walk in the park?" Blaine asked, anxious to do something other than sit around the apartment after his physical therapy.

"Sounds wonderful. Do you want me to put a leash on Macushla and bring him with us?" Kurt asked. He'd grown very fond of the big shaggy wolfhound.

"Yes, that would be perfect. Maybe you could take him for a run while I sit and enjoy the breeze. He misses being able to run in the fields I think," Blaine said, guilt over not having access to a place for the dog to run threatening to overwhelm him.

They walked over to Central Park, the big wolfhound pulling a little on the leash Blaine was holding.

"Hey, Cush, you're going to pull me out of this chair. Settle down," Blaine commanded, holding tightly to the end of the leash.

Kurt was surprised when the dog did settle down and walked patiently beside his master as they followed a path through the trees.

After a while, Kurt found a shady place under some oak trees and made sure Blaine was comfortable, had his phone, and was okay with waiting for Kurt to take Cush for a run.

The dog was anxious to get going and Kurt let the leash out as he started across the clear, grassy meadow.

An hour later, Blaine was still sitting under the tree, but the shade had shifted and now he was in the hot sun. It was a pretty warm day and Blaine couldn't see Kurt and Macushla anywhere. He pushed himself up to get adjusted and scanned all the way around himself. The park was so beautiful, all the flowers in bloom and people walking everywhere. It was getting late, almost 4 o'clock. He was overheated, bored, and getting really hungry.

Blaine heard the clumsy feet and panting breath of the huge wolfhound. Macushla jumped up, laying his huge feet on Blaine's shoulders.

"Cush! Did you have a good run, Baby? Was this better?" Blaine asked, thinking of the two days they had merely walked the dog along the sidewalk for him to relieve himself. Cush was used to running in the fields and orchard behind the mansion in Ohio, not being cooped up in an apartment in Manhattan.

"I need to go home soon," Blaine said, thinking of the dog mostly.

"Oh, okay. I didn't know how long we would be here. I can say with complete honesty that I love New York," Kurt gushed, looking around at the lush grass and beds of flowers planted everywhere.

"Are you homesick?" Blaine asked because he had heard the longing in his friend's voice when he spoke of his father.

"If I'm honest – yes, I miss my dad. Don't get me wrong, Blaine. I love it here, I love being with you, and I am happy to stay as long as you need me. Okay?" Kurt said, wanting to take the sadness from Blaine's eyes.

"Thank you for that, Kurt. I don't know what I'd do without you," he whispered, gazing up at Kurt, then turning his head so Kurt wouldn't know he could see him. His sight had gotten a lot sharper since they'd gone to bed last night.

"Speaking of going home, we could head that way. I'm kind of hungry and we could stop at a food truck on he way," Blaine offered.

"We can go – but I am capable of cooking, my friend, and I don't think we should eat every meal at a food truck, it just isn't healthy," Kurt disagreed. He grinned to himself at the frown on Blaine's face.

They walked back across the park, Blaine in the wheelchair and Macushla trying to lope ahead but the leash stopped him from going too far. He heaved a sigh and came back to pace beside the wheelchair.

"Oh, that smells so good! Please, Kurt, can we stop at the cart with Mexican food? I promise to get something that's good for me," Blaine begged.

"Okay," Kurt agreed, the wonderful smells coming from the window on the food truck were enticing.

Several bags of food and the exchange of some bills later, the boys were home. The wolfhound went to lie down and Kurt set plates and forks on the table, getting out a container of sour cream and two glasses of iced tea to put on the table. Kurt put the food out in a tasteful arrangement and helped Blaine fill his plate with each of the delicacies.

"Oh, this is delicious!" Kurt praised, eating an enchilada. "It isn't too hot, just as you promised," he added.

"See, I told you. It's great," Blaine said before biting into another fish taco. He hummed his satisfaction and smiled. Yes, he was a food truck junkie.

Kurt was trying to swallow and took a drink of his iced tea, his eyes watering and his cheeks red. He quickly got up and went to the refrigerator, poured a big glass of milk and gulped it down.

"Kurt?"

"Oh, sorry – I took a bite of that shrimp quesadilla and it was a lot hotter than I thought it would be. Wow, those must be some kind of Scotch bonnets or ghost peppers, maybe. Whew!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Blaine asked, reaching over and took a bite of the quesadilla himself. He rolled his eyes and swallowed finding it wasn't that hot at all. Kurt sure was sensitive.

"Yeah, I got a glass of milk. The iced tea made it burn more," Kurt said, sitting back down at the table.

"Good idea. Does your mouth still burn?"

Kurt shook his head then realized Blaine couldn't see him.

"No, it's okay now."

Blaine leaned closer to Kurt.

"Let me see..." he whispered, then leaned even closer and touched his lips to Kurt's. If Kurt was surprised he didn't show it, he moved forward on his chair and put his arms around Blaine, kissing him again, increasing pressure a bit until Blaine opened his mouth a little. Kurt moved his tongue to touch across Blaine's bottom lip and slowly enter his mouth. Blaine's heart started beating faster and his arms went around Kurt too.

They kissed for a while, forgetting their supper and letting it get cold.

"Kurt, oh...you are...I mean, I am..." Blaine stuttered.

"Blaine?"

They kissed again before both of them stopped and looked at the cold food on the table.

"Do you want me to reheat this?" Kurt offered.

"No, I'm not hungry – at least not for food," Blaine said, a sweet smile gracing his face.

"Okay, I'll put it away and clean up," Kurt said, collecting the food and putting it into containers then into the refrigerator. He put the dishes in the sink and washed them quickly, putting everything away.

"I'm tired, is it okay if you help me to bed, Kurt?" Blaine asked, looking anything but tired.

"Sure."

Kurt didn't bother with the wheelchair. He just picked Blaine up and carried him down the hall to his bedroom. He went in his own room to put on pajamas while Blaine was in the bathroom, then helped him into his pajamas and into bed.

"How about we watch a movie?" Blaine asked.

"Sure. Is your dad going to be here soon?" Kurt wondered.

Blaine called Linden to see while Kurt went to the kitchen and made two more glasses of iced tea. He came back to the bedroom to find Blaine in his bed, curled up in a ball and crying.

"Blaine! What's wrong? Are you hurting?"

"Not physically. No, my dad...well, he ….oh," Blaine stuttered. Kurt stood by the bed as his friend fell apart with extreme emotion. He sat on the bed, pulling Blaine into his lap and waited until the boy gathered his thoughts.

"Oh, Kurt! My dad already left. He said he left a voicemail on the house phone. He had some business to take care of and then he was off to Iceland. I guess he didn't want to waste time saying goodbye to me," Blaine said sadly.

"Oh, honey, I know he would if he could. He loves you – I could see it in his eyes when he looked at you," Kurt tried to soothe his friend but Blaine just sighed and snuggled in closer.

They stayed that way for almost an hour until Blaine seemed to be asleep.

"Hey, Blaine, do you want to lie down and go back to sleep?" Kurt asked, his voice a loud whisper.

"Yeah, but I don't want to be alone. Can you stay with me?" Blaine asked.

"Sure. We can snuggle together and I'll hold you for as long as you need me. I promise."

"You're my best friend in the world, Kurt. I'm so lucky to have you," Blaine sighed as he cuddled close and closed his eyes.

Kurt held him close, kissing the top of his head. He glanced down to the tender skin by his ear. Blaine had cute ears, Kurt smiled to himself. He noticed them the first day he read to him, thinking he wanted to kiss him there. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained – he leaned forward and kissed Blaine gently on the skin between his neck and his ear.

Kurt smiled and yawned then settled down on the pillow, careful not to let go of Blaine as he held him close in his arms.

I think I'm falling in love with him, Kurt thought as he fell asleep.

Another day dawned in the Dakota, Kurt and Blaine tangled together under the blankets.

"Kurt?"

"I'm here, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Can you help me into the wheelchair? I need to use the bathroom," Blaine whined, still half asleep.

"Put your arms around my neck," Kurt instructed. He got his friend into the chair and helped him into the bathroom.

When he got back, Kurt was getting his clothes on. He stripped down and was stepping into his purple boxers when he turned to see Blaine staring at him. Once he realized Kurt was looking back at him he blushed and turned his face to the wall.

"Blaine, you can see me, can't you?" Kurt asked, although he was torn about what he wanted Blaine to answer. He would be thrilled if Blaine's sight returned - but if it returned, would he be sent home because Blaine no longer needed him?

"Ah...yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to stare at you. I can't see clearly, it's mostly shapes and colors and only if there's lots of light. I saw the bright purple of your shorts," Blaine explained, slowly turning back and seeing that Kurt was dressed. He looked again, seeing that Kurt was wearing dark blue shorts and a pinkish-white shirt. He was so handsome Blaine had to catch his breath. He'd wondered for so long what Kurt looked like and here he was standing right in front of him.

Kurt's face was similar to what Blaine imagined when he used his fingers to 'see' Kurt.

He had fine features but he was very masculine in spite of it. Kurt was no twink. Blaine had felt Kurt's muscles and knew under this shirt were solid abs and biceps. He had a head full of thick chestnut hair, combed high over his head in a perfect quiff.

"Kurt, you're so beautiful..." Blaine breathed in.

"I thought the doctor said your vision would come back a little at a time. How long?...ah, how long have you been able to see?" Kurt asked, studying Blaine's face.

"A week. He was right, I saw just light at first, then a few days later it was just shapes and finally yesterday it was color. My vision is still really blurry but I can see your face, Kurt. It's everything I knew it would be. You are beautiful," Blaine blurted out.

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing things?" Kurt demanded, a frown decorating his face. It was as if Blaine had lied to him and that thought upset him even more than having Sebastian flirting and bragging about their friendship. Kurt sat down and leaned his chin in his hands.

Blaine frowned, worried he had made Kurt unhappy.

"I was scared. Please understand - I thought if you knew I could see that you would go home. I didn't want to lose you," Blaine confessed, blinking to stop tears from forming.

"Oh, Blaine, I'm not leaving you! I promised that I would stay as long as you need me," Kurt said, coming close and putting his arms loosely around Blaine. He leaned close and kissed his mouth very softly.

"I'm so happy about that. I don't want you to ever leave my side, we're best friends – right?" Blaine asked, his sadness plain on his face.

"Yes, Blaine, we're the very best of friends. I promise we'll be together here in New York and even when we get back to Ohio. You'll always have a place in my heart," Kurt said, his eyes sincere as he looked into Blaine's.

"Thank you, I feel the same about you, Kurt."

Blaine kissed Kurt this time, placing his hands gently around his back. Blaine pulled Kurt flush against his chest and he kissed him again and again.

"Kurt! Wait up!" Blaine shouted.

Kurt ran as fast as he could after the wolfhound, calling the big dog back to him. The dog had slipped out of his collar while they were walking along the path in Central Park.

"Cush! Here Cush! Macushla! C'mon baby – come home."

The boys had now spent a month in New York and Kurt could tell his dad was missing him. He'd spoken to Burt every other day for the whole time, gushing about all the places they'd seen or visited. Kurt had sent home postcards and souvenirs from just about every place they'd visited from the United Nations building to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Blaine was now walking, though he couldn't yet run. Macushla was taking full advantage of his freedom and was over one of the gently rolling hills and gone before Kurt could catch up. He came back to Blaine, his feet dragging and his face a picture of misery.

"He'll come back – I know he will," Blaine said, his hand on Kurt's arm as they sat down on a bench.

"I thought I was catching up to him, but then he just took off like the wind," Kurt said, astonished the dog could run so fast.

"He must have seen something. Irish wolfhounds are sighthounds and if they see something they think is prey, their brain focuses on just that one thing. I think he'll come around and realize he needs to come home," Blaine said. Instead of reassuring Kurt as he meant to do, his friend's face took on a horrific aspect.

"Oh, no! Blaine! I read Lassie Come Home. What if Macushla decides to go home – to Ohio?"

"He wouldn't do that. Would he?" Blaine asked, his voice trembling. The thought of his beloved dog trying to get home to Ohio with all the traffic and dangers he might face brought tears to his eyes.

"Can you take me back to the apartment, Kurt?" he asked, his look of despondency clear on every line of his face.

"Sure, Bee. I'll take you back," Kurt responded, his own face almost as sad. He was calculating in his head how he could take Blaine home, then return to the park and ask people if they'd seen the dog. He might be able to track him that way – a big dog like that would be noticed.

As they rounded the corner to the doors of the Dakota, a small woman was standing there with Macushla. She was holding a rope tied around his neck, her fists on her hips and tapping her toe impatiently.

She didn't say a word, just handed the rope to Blaine and turned on her heel to leave.

"Wait! Rosie, where did you find him?" Blaine asked as the woman gave him a stern look.

"I sat down for half a minute and turned to see your great monster with his head inside one of the compartments of my cart! Lucky for me it was empty," she said.

"Wait – who's watching your cart now?" Kurt asked.

"My dad came by to bring me some more lobsters. He's waiting for me to come back," Rosie explained.

"Rosie, I'm so sorry! He slipped his collar and took off. We've been looking for him."

"Well, then I'm glad I found him," Rosie said and pulled Blaine into a hug before kissing him on the mouth.

Kurt gasped, but tried to hide it.

"Oh, honey, are you jealous?" she asked before kissing Kurt full on the mouth, taking him once more by surprise. "Tell your brother I miss him."

"I will, and thank you again," Blaine said, opening the door to go up to the apartment.

"Good news, Blaine," his doctor said, a smile on his face. "You are cleared to fly once again."

"Really?" Blaine hugged the man, who grinned. It wasn't every day he could make one of his patients this happy.

"Yes, really. The pressure in your eye is normal once again, so there are no risks for you to fly. You'll be going home to Ohio I presume?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, I'll forward your file to your doctor there. Congratulations, young man."

"Thank you."

"Almost Like Being in Love" is from the 1947 Broadway musical Brigadoon by Alan Jay Lerner & Frederick Loewe.