Hi Everyone!

It's been a heck of a long time. I've been so busy with uni and work Fanfic has been neglected (and tbh I've been a bit disheartened with writing recently). But I've managed to get another chapter out. On the bright side, I've completed my degree (provided I pass everything). Reviews and comments always appreciated (pm me any ideas for the rest of the story too, love to hear where you want to see these two boys going).

The next day Kurt arched his back with a wince. He could feel Elliot's breath against the back of his neck, he could feel Elliot's hands pressed warmly and firmly to his stomach. He was still groggy with sleep, his muscles aching from a screaming night of sex. And boy, did they scream, Kurt was going to need to borrow some of Rachel's throat lozenges. Did he care? Nope.

Kurt wriggled a little bit.

"Hmm, morning." Elliot grumped in half sleep. His hand trailed down from Kurt's stomach to his hips, then between Kurt's legs where his sleeping dick was waking up before he was.

"Elliot." Kurt's voice grumbled. "Too tired." And fair enough, they had done it like four times in one night. Fuck, he was sore, but Elliot would be sore too. Kurt tried to clear his throat, god, it was sore. The back of his throat felt like he was swallowing needles.

"Want you." Elliot was already biting the back of Kurt's neck, that hot breath and teeth, that begging voice, how could he say no? Still groggy, Kurt felt kisses over his shoulder blade, then a rustling under the cover, Elliot was moving downwards, his teeth grazing down, followed by the electric tingle and shiver.

"Elliot, what are you doing?"

"Nose is feeling better."

"I'm not." Kurt coughed, not that Elliot seemed to hear because the next thing Kurt knew, he was being flipped onto his back. Kurt groaned with his husky voice feeling Elliot's nose nuzzle between his legs, spreading them apart.

"Elliot." Kurt arched his back, his legs spreading wide. Elliot's kitten licks tickled, and Kurt grinned and giggled. Elliot's palms pressed to his hips to stop him twisting.

"Elliot, don't force yourself."

"I told you, my nose is feeling much better." Elliot was muffled by the covers. Kurt wasn't going to complain, his morning erection getting some attention. Elliot's lips kissed and circled around his cock. Slowly, those kisses trailing smaller and smaller, then his tongue lapped warm breath from the base of Kurt's cock slowly, slowly creeping, up to his tip. Elliot's flat, heavy tongue pressed even pressure right up, then those lips, fuck, those lips, slowly kissing, making out with his cock head. His lips swallowing and humming and moaning, tongue grazing the rim of his head.

"Elliot, swallow me now."

"Impatient." Elliot hummed before returning his lips just to Kurt's head, letting his wet lips run up and down his head.

"Yeah, I am." Without warning Kurt grabbed the back of Elliot's head through the blankets and thrust his cock forwards, forcing Elliot to take him deep in his mouth. Elliot groaned and pulled back with a gasp.

"It's pretty sexy."

Kurt looked down to see nothing more than a round mound of blanket between his legs. Kurt flipped the blankets back to see the view. Elliot looked up, his hand grasping the base of Kurt's cock, his tongue hanging out, flicking back and forth.

"Don't make me do it again." Kurt warned, fisting Elliot's hair. But Elliot didn't have to be asked again. He opened his mouth wide and swallowed Kurt all the way down to his base. Kurt was surrounded by Elliot's warm mouth. God, he was too tight, Elliot's cheeks were suckered in hollow. His lips forming the tightest of rings, moving up and down fast. Kurt's hand was barely holding on.

"Hmmm," Kurt's throat scratched as he moaned but that didn't stop him. He thrust his hips up again as Elliot paused to tease. With every flick of that tongue Kurt was getting closer and closer. The pressure was building, Elliot wasn't slowing down, his mouth was getting tighter and tighter.

"Elliot, don't stop." Kurt whined and for once, Elliot listened to him. He was diving and bobbing his head faster than Kurt could thrust, leaving Kurt's hips limp on the mattress while Elliot worked him up.

"Elliot," Kurt arched his back, feeling the orgasm build in his balls, that electric rush unable to be contained. Elliot hummed as if he knew Kurt was close, telling him not to hold back. And Kurt didn't hold back, he couldn't if he tried. It was as if his body was holding its breath and with one more tug Kurt's body was breathing again. His cock hit the back of Elliot's throat and the next thing he knew Elliot was swallowing his cum, humming gently as Kurt panted, his brain dizzy, the good kind of dizzy. The sort of dizzy where it took Elliot's trail of kisses up his belly to bring him back down to earth.

Elliot's warm body radiated heat up over his chest. Elliot was panting, his cheek pressed against Kurt's cheek.

"You know, if you hadn't broke my nose, you could have been enjoying this for days."

"I've never regretted anything more in my life." Kurt groaned. Elliot looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"Kurt are you sick?"

"No, just sore throat."

"That classifies as sick."

"I'm fine."

"You've got what Rachel has."

"I'm not that bad." But it was too late Elliot had bounced off the bed.

"I'm going to get you some lemon water."

"No, not the lemon water!" Kurt croaked, letting his heavy head fall back into the pillows. "I hate lemon water. Why not lemon cheesecake." Not that his throat could handle anything but a warm tea anyway. Tea, how about tea. But Elliot was already gone. Kurt reached his hands between his legs and adjusted his tired cock. He tested out the rest of his body- achy- but not from illness. Elliot really knew how to work him. Kurt rolled and twisted, then somehow dozed back off to sleep. That was until a clatter of a mug woke him up. Elliot hat placed a steaming mug of tea beside him.

"Rachel said you didn't drink lemon water, then she threw me a teabag."

"Thankyou." Kurt sat up and took a sip. "How much honey did you put in this?"

"The whole jar." Elliot grinned. Kurt stared down at his tea. Half if it was semi-dissolved honey. Elliot wasn't kidding- he couldn't be this daft, he had to know…. "Oh, you son of a bitch." Kurt looked up to Elliot's devilish grin. The nerve of the man! laughing! While Kurt was here sick with an undrinkable sweet tea!

"What's wrong sweetie?" Elliot sat on the edge of the bed looking so innocent he was certainly guilty.

"Nothing, I do love my tea with a spoonful of diabetes."

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

Kurt looked down between his legs again expectantly.

"Oh, no, not until you get your voice back." Elliot bit his bottom lip and sat up. "Rachel's devil pills are there too." He pointed to the little dish of pills beside his bed. "Take them, stay in bed, I have to go to work. Text or call if you need anything. Santana is going to booby trap the front door so don't even try to leave this apartment and go to school.

Kurt swallowed the bitter pills to wash down the obnoxious degree of honey in his throat.

Kurt did as he was told. He only left his bed to shower and grab his laptop. Then, he binge-watched whatever shows he could find. He was in bed when the pills kicked in. He should have double checked what Elliot had given him but they weren't devil pills, they made him feel fantastic, they took the pain in his throat away and he couldn't stop grinning and thinking of Elliot and – well maybe everything couldn't be blamed on the pills. What could be blamed on the pills, was Kurt's liberal use of his phone.

K: How's work?

E: Sold my third guitar today.

K: I'm bored

E: Good

K: Not good. I keep thinking about this morning.

E: … you should be resting

Kurt stared down at his blankets, his legs clenched tight, remembering Elliot's head between them only hours ago. Those blankets were starting to bulge, just a little, not a full-on tent, but with a little encouragement, it could be so much more. Kurt spun the phone around in his hands. He was bored, and he was a little dizzy, probably wasn't thinking straight either.

K: I want to stick my fingers in your mouth

E: Excuse me?

K: Two of them

Where the hell did that come from? Kurt couldn't help but picture hooking his fingers in, grazing his fingertips over Elliot's tongue, digging his fingertips into his lower jaw, and guiding the man's head any which way he wanted.

E: Just two?

K: For now.

E: I'm at work, I can't keep texting you

K: Fine!

Kurt grumbled and tossed his phone into the pillows next to him. Sure, Kurt couldn't interfere with Elliot's job, well, he shouldn't, that would awfully be inconsiderate of him. But then again, it was awfully inconsiderate to fill his tea with a ludicrous amount of honey as well. Kurt snatched his phone and quickly searched the number of the music store where Elliot worked. He cleared his throat and held the phone to his ear, grinning and tugging the blankets up to his chin.

"Rockstar guitars and amps, this is Ashton speaking."

"Oh, hello dearie, is my grandson Elliot working today."

"Mrs Gilbert, how are you? You don't sound too good."

"Just a sore through love."

"Are you still keeping up with your drum practice?"

Drum practice? Elliot wasn't lying when he said his grandmother was a punk-ass-rockstar.

"Every day." Kurt lied.

"Elliot's just finishing up with a customer, when are you going to come pay us a visit, Mrs G?"

"As soon as this darn cold clears up." Kurt made a mental note to meet this woman.

"Nan? What's wrong? Ashton said you were ill? There's been something going around. Do you need me to pick something up for you?"

"Oh, Starchild you worry too much, I'm perfectly fine."

"Starchild? You haven't called me that since I was a kid." So that's where the name came from.

"I'm just after a few things, I was hoping you could pick them up for me."

"Sure." Perfect, Elliot was buying into this, finally his voice was coming into good use.

"I'll need you to get me a box of tissues, the good kind, not the ones that crumble when they get wet, and not scented. Are you writing this down?"

"Is it a long list?"

"Yes, my Starboy." How long is it going to take for Elliot to work this one out?

"I'll need you to pick up some more honey, I've run out."

"Are you making honey cakes again?"

Kurt replied with a cough.

"I'll need some lubricant too."

"Like for cooking?" Elliot's voice sounded dubious.

"No, not the water-based kind, probably some condoms too." Kurt pulled out his bedside draw and counted the remaining foil squares. "Definitely some condoms."

"Um… granny, I appreciate that we have such a strong relationship that you feel comfortable with asking me but-"

"Don't you live above a sex store?"

"Yes, but-"

"Grab me some handcuffs too, mine were stolen."

"Stolen? Granny, have you been ah… supplementing your medication again?" Elliot asked in a whisper. Kurt chuckled, making a mental note to ask Elliot about this later.

"How's your sex life going?"

"Not as good as yours by the sounds of things."

"You should text that boy you were talking about."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah, any more dick picks to share with a bold old bat?"

"KURT!" Ohh, now he gets it. "Kurt, I swear I'm going to give you…. Of course, sir we have that in stock, I'll put one aside for you right now…. I'm going to bring you so close to coming… we are open until six tonight…and never let you get there." Elliot whispered, changing his tone as customers walked past, not that Kurt was listening, he was cackling, voice rasping down the phone line. Then the line went dead.

Kurt waited for Elliot to reply, or to text after work. While he waited, he slept. He slept all the way through until ten that night. When he didn't receive a text, he just suspected Elliot was giving him time to rest. Then the next day he waited for a visit, but when there was nothing, he suspected Elliot just wanted to keep away so he didn't get sick. Kurt slept most of that day too, maybe Elliot visited but didn't wake him up. But he expected something, surely there was something, even if it was just a thinly veiled insult. By the third day Kurt was up and about the kitchen when he asked Santana:

"Have you heard from Elliot?" His body still ached from fever and his eyes felt like they were two sandbags in his skull.

"No. I've got a life outside of you and Berry, you know." Santana said, "keep your demon diseases away from me." Santana moved to the other side of the kitchen counter. "Do you know how many oranges I've been eating this week to keep healthy? The grocery store lady keeps giving me strange looks." As Santana spoke, she was peeling an orange into a bowl as if it was the only thing between her and Kurt's cold.

"I'm getting better." Kurt said. "I just wanted to know if you have heard from him."

"No. And rehearsals are postponed until you are better."

"You don't have to do that for me."

"It's more for us, you're like as bad as Berry when someone makes a decision and you're not around to approve it."

"Hey!" Kurt's protest was weak, his voice cracked, at least it wasn't sore anymore, just dry. He took the boiling kettle from the stove and poured himself a tea. Then he added just the right amount of honey. Why hadn't Elliot contacted him? Had he done something wrong? Did he just not want to get sick? What if Elliot was a hit-it-and-quit-it sort of guy? And Kurt had….

"Oh my god, will you quit overthinking, I can hear your brain from over here!" Santana broke his thoughts with her neck craned up to the ceiling with exasperation. "Stop being an overdramatic baby and talk to him, do I have to be the voice of reason in every chapter? Seriously, what would this story do without me." Santana continued her rant as she left the kitchen.

Kurt did the adult thing and picked up his phone.

K: Do you mind if I came over today?

E: I would rather you didn't. I hope you are feeling better.

K: All better now.

Kurt lied, he wasn't completely better, but he doubted he was contagious, if that was what Elliot was worried about. Kurt waited for a reply, then waited again, then waited some more, and by the time he had finished his tea, he was gripping his empty cup and staring as his blank phone screen.

"Oh, my god, now you are just being pathetic." Santana strutted back into the room, "this is like some post-traumatic-Blaine-disorder."

"He hasn't replied."

"He has a life."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts, sit down, drink your tea and leave the man alone."

That worked for about two hours when Kurt couldn't take it anymore. Elliot wasn't replying and Kurt's mind was fidgeting as much as his hands were. Santana was right, it was pathetic, and so he donned on a decent violet floral shirt and dragged his pathetic ass to Elliot's apartment.

Kurt stood at Elliot's door, checking himself over, brown leather shoes, chinos, and shirt, perfect and to top it off cologne that could be smelt three doors down. He knocked on the door and the door slid open from underneath his knuckles.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?" Elliot was dressed in the most solemn outfit he had seen. A black suit. Not a smidge of makeup, not even a dash of glitter.

"I ah, came to see you. have you been crying?"

"No."

"Seriously."

"I'm fine."

"Can I come in?"

"I have to go."

"To where?"

Elliot drew in a breath. "My grandmother's funeral."

Silence. Kurt's head spun around in circles, remembering the last conversation he had over the phone. Kurt calling and pretending to be his grandmother.

"Oh shit, Elliot I'm so sorry."

"'Sokay. Just ah, off." Elliot wedged his way pasted Kurt in the doorway and closed the door behind him.

"To where?"

"Funeral."

"Oh." Kurt didn't know what to say. Usually, he was good at these sorts of things, or at least knew not what to say – he could write a list of phrases that offered no consolation when his mother died. All those words were lost now because all he could think about was how shit it must have been for Elliot to have gotten that phone call right after Kurt's. He stood there, stuck outside his door as Elliot took his first step down the stairs.

"You can come, you know." Elliot turned over his shoulder.

"I don't know if I should. I mean, it's your grandmother's funeral."

Elliot shrugged. "I was hoping you would meet her one day."

"But not like this."

"No, not like this." Before Kurt could offer his farewell, Elliot took his hand. Wordlessly, they descended the stairs together. Kurt held his breath, trying to stifle his nerves. He wanted to ask Elliot if he had a big family, what were his parents' names, did they know anything about him? He was not prepared for this, this was not the sort of event you bring your boyfriend (yeah, boyfriend, right?) to, especially not for a first meeting.

But Kurt couldn't ask any of those questions, not to Elliot who was barely holding it together as is. Instead, Kurt asked a practical question namely.

"Are we taking the subway?"

"A car is picking us up." Elliot's fingers rubbed along Kurt's knuckles. Oh, God, what if there's an awkward silence with his family members? Or worse, what if the entire carried is centred around him when it's meant to be about Elliot's grandmother. What was his grandmother's name anyway? Oh god, he didn't know Elliot's grandmother's name. Kurt's stomach churned, maybe he should have just stayed home.

"Ah Elliot." Kurt interrupted the silence as Elliot wave the black sedan from the crowded street.

"Hmm." Elliot pulled him into the car. When he saw that it was just the two of them, Kurt asked. "What was your grandmother's name?"

Seatbelts on.

"She would have made you call her Nan." Elliot said. "But her name is Claire, but she did go by Roger for a while."

"What?"

"It's a long story."

"Will it come up during the eulogy?"

"Probably not appropriate. So yeah, it might do. It's what Nan would have wanted." For a moment there, Elliot cracked a twitch to his lip. "Don't be nervous."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm here for you." Kurt said.

"It'll be a church funeral; I hope that's not a problem."

"I don't believe in God."

"Good, I'll throw holy water at you." Elliot said with the flattest of tones.

"I'll lock you in a confessional booth."

"I'll ask the priest to perform an exorcism."

"Be careful or ill pray your gay away."

"You wouldn't dare."

The two of them shared a look from the corner of their eyes. Their solemn faces began to crack at the humour of their dumb threats.

They drove in silence for a while, hand in hand. No one else got into the car, it was just them and a silent driver.

"Nan was religious." Elliot offered as they pulled up to the church, "but in the cool kind of way, talked to saints like they were old friends, Saint Christopher copped the brunt of it every time she couldn't find her glasses."

"She sounds like a very… complicated lady."

"Oh, she was." Elliot opened the door for them, "now, are you sure you aren't going to burst into flames when you cross the threshold of the church?"

"I should ask the same of you, glitter rock vampire."

The church was tall and narrow, a little rundown with moss growing over its brickwork but something told Kurt that that's the way Claire would have wanted it. Everyone was being ushered inside. Kurt wondered what sort of people were coming to the funeral, because there were far too many just for Elliot's family. The rows of people in the pews were as varied as Kurt could imagine. In the front row were Elliot's family, dressed in the formal black, but everyone had some pop of colour – a purple tie or red gogo boots. There was a group of ladies dressed in flowing floral kaftans, there were three drag queens in full drag, a large collection of leather clad bikers. And…

"Is that man in a chicken suit?" Kurt couldn't believe his eyes as he stared at an elderly man swallowed by a costume of yellow feathers.

"Oh, that's Joe. They lived at the old folks home together. Nan made a bet with him that if he outlived her, he had to wear a chicken suit to her funeral."

There was nothing sadder than an old man in a chicken suit, crying his eyes out.

The funeral remained wildly inappropriate with a room full of the teariest laughter Kurt had ever heard, with people half laughing which turned into sad wails. The only time Kurt let go of Elliot's hand was he had to speak.

After Elliot was Elliot's mother. She was the shortest woman he had ever met, and his father was a big blundering ball of mess covered by a matt of thinning rockstar hair. Kurt wasn't even sure he registered that Elliot had brought him to the funeral. Once the wake was in full swing Kurt let Elliot mingle with his family, he tried to keep a low profile and sat beside the crying chicken man who told stories of what Elliot's Nan was like to live with.

"I'm going to miss her snoring. You could hear her right down the hallway, never could get a wink of sleep. the number of times I thought of smothering the old bat with a pillow…." he wiped his tears with his chicken feathers.

"There, there." Kurt patted the chicken man's shoulders. Elliot visited him while he circulated, everyone hugging him, offering him tea. Kurt knew Elliot didn't want to introduce Kurt to strangers amongst all of this. Of course, Kurt met his parents. Elliot's mother asked him a few questions but seemed a little distracted, while Elliot's father gave him a standoffish look up and down and a twist to his lips which Kurt wasn't sure what to make of. Was he upset with Kurt in general? Was he upset Kurt was at the funeral?

Kurt couldn't ask Elliot, not as they were leaving. He had never seen Elliot so quiet. Despite the unorthodox funeral, despite the laughs and unusual attire, the room was heavy, with the occasional joke and memory to cut through the loss.

By the time they had left the funeral Kurt had forgotten about Elliot's father.

"If you ever wear a chicken suit to my funeral, I will rise from my coffin and boot you to the nearest tailor." Kurt said as he walked Elliot back up to his apartment.

"What if it's a tailored chicken suit?"

"No seamstress will ever stoop so low to make such a monstrosity."

"I'll make it myself."

"I'll make sure I'll never die." They reached Elliot's door.

"You coming in?"

"You want the company?" Kurt wasn't sure what to do here. When his dad had been in a coma he had just wanted to be left alone, pushed everyone away.

"I like company." Elliot tugged Kurt into the room with a wink.

"Woah, Elliot, come on, this is a time for mourning."

"Get your mind out of the gutter." Elliot threw himself on the couch, tugging Kurt into his lap and burring his face into Kurt's shoulder. Kurt could feel his nose and forehead rub firmly into his flesh. "I just like someone being around me. Can you make me tea?"

"Not when you're hugging me."

Elliot released Kurt from his lap.

"Hang on, are you just keeping me around to use as your personal slave."

"Cashing in on the sympathy." Elliot kicked his shoes of and lay across the couch.

"You horrible person."

"It's what Nan would have wanted."

"French earl grey or English breakfast?"

"French please. With honey, Nan always added honey." Elliot hugged a pillow and curled himself up under a throw rug. Kurt grinned manically to himself. Instead of adding honey to Elliot's steaming mug of tea he tossed in a heaped teaspoon of salt and stirred.

"Can you put on Little Shop of Horrors for me?" Elliot asked like a child, snuggled in blankets, looking the most forlorn Kurt had seen him all day.

"Of course." This still didn't stop him handing Elliot his salty-ass cup of tea.

"Ppphhhhrhhaaa." Elliot coughed and spluttered. "Oh my god, what's happened to my taste buds, am I dying?" then he quickly came to his senses and scowled. "How could you! I'm in mourning!"

"Sorry, did you say honey? Silly me, I thought you meant salt. How could I possibly get those two confused?" Elliot leapt up off the couch and threw the blanket over Kurt capturing him under the fuzzy fabric and tackling him to the ground.

"Relax, relax, you can have my tea, I swear it's completely drinkable." Kurt laughed as Elliot poked and prodded him through the blanket, somewhere between a tickle, a poke and a punch. The finger right between the ribs made him roll over and surrender, wriggling his face free to face Elliot.

"Now you'll think twice before adding half a cup of honey to me tea." Kurt said.

"Half a cup of honey is not excessive." Elliot added one last poke before he let Kurt escape to his feet. They shared a salty lipped kiss before Kurt behaved himself, gave Elliot a proper cup of tea and played the movie.

"They need to make more movies like this." Elliot yawned.

"Terrible story lines, worse special effects and disappointing acting?" Kurt yawned back, his ear pressed to Elliot's chest, he was hugging him like a teddy bear, an uncomfortably solid teddy bear.

"Yeah, all those things."

There was a silence for a moment as their eyes began to close.

"I wish you could have met her."

"Me too."

"You should stay."

"I'll stay the night." Kurt said, it was too late to go home now anyway.

"No, I mean, stay here, live here."

Kurt's body stiffened, and not in the good kind of way. His body burned and he had to urge to leap of Elliot's chest and run back home. Moving in was a huge step, a crazy step, a way-too-soon step. Elliot wasn't thinking right, he was mourning, he was half asleep. Kurt was sure he would come to his senses tomorrow.

But Kurt didn't want to break his already hurting heart.

"I'll…. Think about it."

xoxo