Happy Wednesday my darlings!

I hope you are all having a lovely week. Thank you so much for all the great comments on the last chapter.

Just a heads up – I had a big change at work, so the updating on Wednesdays will be a bit irregular. It will probably happen later in the day, around 7pm my time, unless I can manage to find a minute in the morning. But if I find it too difficult to keep updating on Wednesdays, then I might just go back to our old Saturday-only schedules. Sorry :(

Thank you Christine for being my number one forever :) Best beta in the world.

Thanks Sofi for the judgement-free zone.

Enjoy!


The morning shift sucked.

Well, so did the afternoon shift and the night shift…

Santana Lopez was in a bad mood.

It wasn't unusual these days. Ever since the birthday party of hell, she felt as if someone had looked right at her and seen all the ways in which she was wrong. All her dreams had been dashed, all her expectations had been cut to pieces, and her pride… well, her pride had probably taken the worst hit.

Most days, Santana would have turned viciously to whoever dared say such things to her and eviscerate them, but that night, with Cooper… she couldn't. Because she realized he had said exactly what she had been fearing all along. Confirming her suspicions. Making her stare at reality without a single veil to make it prettier or easier to digest.

She may have been hot shit at Cow Town, Ohio, but she wasn't good enough to make it where it counted.

And after Cooper had broken her so badly she could barely pick enough pieces up to move on, she had had to go back to Gunther and beg him to let her keep her job.

So yeah, she had all the right in the world to be in a bad mood, honestly.

Gunther came out of his office. She hated that he always had that same expression on his face, like he was superior to everyone, when most of the time he could barely pass up as an acceptable human being. Today, he had really bad breath. Santana had been avoiding standing too close to him since she had clocked in.

What a despicable person.

"Santana, the floors look disgusting," he said, in that always lovely, kind way of his. "Go clean them while there aren't many customers."

She seriously considered giving him the middle finger, but refrained from doing so. She needed this job. She was going to be a waitress until the day she died. She guessed that she could always get a job at a different restaurant, but what if it was a shittier place than this? Mejor malo conocido que bueno por conocer, her abuela used to say. So instead, she went into the back and returned with the mop and a bucket.

Santana busied herself thinking about ways in which she could kill Gunther – her current favorite was pushing him off the Brooklyn Bridge, watching him flail as he fell until his body hit the water and she could see him disappear under the dark surface, and yeah, fine, she was in a morbid kind of mood, who could blame her? – when she heard a slightly familiar voice.

"I'm sorry, does Santana Lopez work here?"

She turned around. There was a tall man standing at the counter, leaning a bit towards Gunther, which she thought wasn't a very brilliant idea. The coat he was wearing was expensive-looking and the baseball cap and sunglasses weren't kidding anyone.

"Yes, she's right there. But it's not time for her break yet," Gunther replied, and the man leaned back at once, which gave Santana a cold pang of satisfaction. Yeah, enjoy the bad breath. you fucking bastard.

"I promise I won't take up much of her time," he said and even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was wearing one of those disgustingly charming smiles that were supposed to get him out of trouble.

"You won't take up any of my time, because I don't want to talk to you," Santana said, as she continued mopping the floor and told herself not to hit Cooper Anderson with the mop, instead. The humiliation crawled up her spine, and she hated it. She hated him. "Go away and don't ever come back here."

Cooper turned away from the counter, ignoring Gunther, and headed towards her, as he removed his glasses. It wasn't until he was standing right in front of her that she realized just how awful he looked. He was scruffy, unkempt. Santana knew that he'd had a hard time lately, from the little she'd heard from Kurt, but she couldn't say she felt bad for him. It had given her a cold kind of pleasure, actually.

"Please, I'll be brief," Cooper said, speaking quietly, clearly not wanting to attract any attention. He came closer, and it struck her even more, how bad he looked. There was a fading bruise around his eye, a sunken quality to his face. "I just want to apologize."

Santana set the mop down so hard, it splashed water all over his surely expensive shoes. "Really? And what are you going to apologize for? Being a sick bastard who uses his position at work to get women to sleep with him? Insulting me to my face in front of my friends? Telling me I look like a whore…?"

"Yes," he cut her off at once, looking like every word she was saying pained him. "Yes. I want to apologize for all of it. It was out of line, and most importantly, it wasn't true. None of the things I said were true, I was just…" he closed his eyes momentarily. "It's a defense mechanism. A really bad one. I don't expect it to make sense to you, but it is what it is. I'm really sorry you got caught in it, and I'm sorry for everything I said. It wasn't… it just wasn't true, okay? I don't think that. I really don't."

"Well, you must be a better actor than you're a person, because it was very convincing," Santana deadpanned. "But honestly? Your apologies mean shit to me. I don't care. So how about you get the hell out of my sight and let me get back to work? As you can see, I'm very busy here."

"Santana, please," Cooper begged sadly. "I want to make it up to you…"

"I don't give a flying fuck what you want," Santana said, with a deadly smile on her face. Most people would recoil at it – and Cooper did, too. He looked like a faded version of himself, no more shine, no more flashy grins, no more saucy winks. "No matter what you've been through, it doesn't give you the right to destroy everyone around you. You need to grow the hell up. We all have trauma. We all have shit to deal with. And Kurt might have forgiven you for calling him a fuck toy and a leech, but I'm not as nice as him. I don't have to be, because I'm not the one dating your brother. So the only consolation I have in all of this is that I don't ever have to deal with you again in my life."

"Santana," Cooper tried again, his face a little ashen. "Please. I can get you back on the show. You shouldn't have quit because of me, I'm the one who's… it doesn't matter. It wasn't your fault. Please, go back. I'll make arrangements for you to move to a different team. We can still reshoot stuff and make it look like you never even were a part of mine…"

"Aren't you listening to a single word I'm saying?" Santana interrupted again. "I don't want that. I don't want anything from you. Anyone with a brain wouldn't want anything to do with you. I pity your brother. He's clearly too nice to walk away."

Cooper looked sick. Santana would have felt bad, but she was too bitter to feel anything else.

With a quick nod, Cooper mumbled a quick apology and simply turned on his heels and left. Santana went back to mopping the floor, and she hid her face so she could hastily wipe away the tears that had treacherously escaped down her cheeks.

It was the only thing she had left, not letting others see her crumble down to nothing.

She needed to hold on to it.


Taking a deep, calculated breath through his nose, Kurt attempted the steps again. The music pounded against the walls, trying to mark the rhythm his body should follow. Most of his classmates were bumping against each other, and Kurt was being very careful not to do the same – the fact that they were practicing such rigorous choreography in a space clearly not large enough for it was probably on purpose. Cassandra July liked to give them extra obstacles, as if things weren't already hard enough.

Kurt moved as efficiently and fluidly as he could, but the truth was that his mind was elsewhere. He had a very long, very urgent to-do list stuck on his corkboard at his desk at the office, and he knew Isabelle was probably dealing with everything herself right now. The last few days before a new issue were always catastrophic. He would probably have to stay late to help out again. He didn't mind – he always felt like he wasn't helping out enough, with him having class and homework to deal with. He made a mental note to text Blaine and ask him if he could crash at his place tonight. He didn't think his boyfriend would mind, but it would be so much easier for Kurt heading straight to Blaine's tonight than making the commute to Bushwick. And getting to see him would be just an extra treat.

"Abysmal!" Cassandra yelled from where she was roaming the room with hawk eyes, judging them all silently – and not so silently, if the way one of the girls was crying inconsolably was any indication. "You guys are a waste of my time! Go drink some water and think about what you're doing!"

Kurt tried not to show how eager he was as he moved away from the dancefloor and towards his bag. He grabbed his bottle and chugged half of it, only stopping when he could feel his bag vibrating. There was a strict no-cellphone policy in Ms. July's class, but Kurt took a quick glance at the phone without taking it out from the pocket. There was an email in his Vogue inbox. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he opened it.

He had to bite back the frustrated groan that tried to move past his lips. Apparently there was a problem with the photoshoot they needed to do today – one of the vendors had backed out for personal reasons, and now there would be no catering service for the models and the crew. He grabbed his phone quickly to forward the email to Isabelle.

He felt a gust of breath on the back of his neck. "Hummel," Cassandra said in a menacingly low voice. "Are you texting in my class?"

Mortified, Kurt turned to face her. He bit his lip apologetically as he went back to typing the email. "I'm so sorry. But I'm not texting, just sending an email to my boss. There's been a complication at work and I need to…"

"I don't care. You're disrespecting me and my rules," she said sharply. "I don't care if the world's coming to an end outside this classroom. In here, all you have to do is dance. Or can't you do that anymore? Because you've been getting progressively worse since last year."

"I'm trying, okay?" Kurt huffed out a little impatiently. He hit send and breathed a sigh of relief. "Done. Email's sent. I'm sorry."

"That attitude won't get you anywhere. Maybe I shouldn't have been so soft on you," Cassandra continued, poking his chest with her index finger. "You're sloppy, Hummel. And what the hell are you doing with your life? Are you even interested in graduating? Because at this point, it's anybody's guess. You think you're some big fashion hot shot now? Or do you think you're better than your classmates because you're dating someone twice your age and clearly rich?" She must have seen the absolute shock on his face, because she laughed. "Please, don't you know how quickly the rumor mills work at this school? Everyone's seen him picking you up or dropping you off, like a good daddy taking care of his baby…"

Kurt blanched. "Please, don't talk that way about my relationship. It's none of your business and it has nothing to do with this class. It's personal and it should…"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "You and Little Miss Schwimmer are a match made in heaven. Seriously, what is it with your attitude? I'm telling you to get back to work. Go to the bar and do pliés until you can give me ten perfect ones. And I don't care if I have to keep you after hours, you…"

"I can't stay. I have to go to work," Kurt cut her off, because he was getting really tired of her superiority complex and her unfairness and her bitterness. "This isn't high school. You can't hold me back after class to make me write a few lines as punishment…"

"Watch your mouth," she hissed at him. "I'm going to kick you out of this class and you won't pass until you seriously commit to…"

And Kurt… stopped listening. Because he realized that every time he was in class lately, his mind was back at the office. Because he realized that he often preferred to work on reports Isabelle needed and not his homework. Because he realized coming to class had become an unbearable chore and a waste of his time, when he was always wishing he was elsewhere.

At some point in the past year, his dreams of stardom had died. Of course he loved performing and of course he loved the theater… but he didn't have the hunger to make it his life. His hunger was elsewhere these days.

He wanted to be at the office helping Isabelle sort through the mess. He wanted to be able to put in regular hours at Vogue and feel like he was actually earning his spot there. He wanted to get elbow deep in projects and reports and fabric samples. He went to bed every night either thinking of Blaine or, if Blaine was pressed right next to him, about work – dreaming about every beautiful thing he could accomplish the next day.

NYADA had slipped down his priorities list so fast and so suddenly that he had barely noticed.

"… you're going to graduate the day I die," Cassandra was still saying, and while everyone else around them was staring wide-eyed, half in fear, half in relief that the tirade wasn't directed at them, Kurt was… impassive. Uninterested.

How had he not noticed this sooner?

He turned back to his bag and stuffed his phone and water bottle in, before he reached for his coat.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cassandra asked, furious.

"I'm leaving," Kurt replied calmly. "I don't know why I stayed this long. I honestly lost interest months ago. This is not where I'm meant to be."

The way he stormed out of the classroom would have made Rachel proud.

There was a skip in his step as he walked out of NYADA for the last time. It felt right. Now he knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to go for it.


With his hip resting against the edge of the counter, Blaine stirred the sauce distractedly. The kitchen smelled wonderfully and his stomach groaned in appreciation. He had picked up a loaf of fresh bread at his favorite French bakery, and the water was boiling, waiting for the pasta to be dropped into it. It smelled like a home.

All that was missing, was Kurt.

Fortunately, he was on his way. Blaine had received a few frantic texts along the day, and he knew things had been a little tense at the office, so he had promised to wait for him with a homemade dinner and a hug. Kurt had said he had news. Blaine couldn't wait to hear all about it.

His own life wasn't as hectic as Kurt's at the moment. After dealing with Cooper's news scandal – which had luckily been replaced after a couple of days by an actress' sudden and mysterious pregnancy and the doubt on whether the father was her husband or her current costar with whom she seemed to be having an affair – Blaine had realized he still had no idea what the hell he wanted to do. He had pondered a few options, but he still wasn't sure.

It was weird, feeling so directionless.

Blaine tried telling himself it was okay. For the first time in decades, he was allowed to choose what to do with his own life, it was normal to be a little lost. He couldn't help feeling like it was too late to start over, but at the same time, he was excited. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, actually. At least he was in a steady enough position not to have to worry about money for the near future. He could figure out what he truly wanted instead of having to rush to find any job he could get in order to pay his bills. It was a blessing and he was aware of it.

Still, he didn't like the uncertainty of not having a job, didn't like not feeling useful. He had begun to work when he was so young, and had known nothing else since…

The doorbell broke him away from his thoughts. He pulled away from the counter and walked towards the front door, his socked feet making no noise on the hardwood floor. When he opened it, he found Kurt there, arms filled with folders and fabric rolls, looking exhausted but excited, and as gorgeous as ever.

"Oh, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Kurt exhaled as he came inside, pausing momentarily to peck Blaine on the lips.

"Bad day?" Blaine asked, unable to stop the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Long, mostly," Kurt replied, and carefully placed the fabric rolls against the wall, before making a relatively organized pile with the folders and putting them down on the side table by the door. He then proceeded to remove his coat and bag. "I'll tell you all about it in a bit. Sorry about the mess, though, I promise I'll take everything back to the office with me tomorrow."

"It's fine," Blaine chuckled, catching his hand and bringing him into another kiss, feeling how Kurt finally melted into it, as if everything that had happened that day – whether good or bad – finally drifted out of him. "Does this mean you have work to do this evening?"

"Yes," Kurt said, biting his lower lip in a way that managed to look both apologetic and enticing. "I'm sorry. Just need to read a few reports and choose a few fabric samples. I have a meeting with Isabelle and the design team early tomorrow."

"Okay. Dinner first, though," Blaine said, as he pulled him towards the kitchen.

"Well, something smells amazing," Kurt sighed as he followed. He stopped behind Blaine once they reached the counter and kissed the back of his shoulder, over the soft material of his sweater. "I feel very spoiled."

"Mission accomplished, then," Blaine smiled and threw the pasta into the water.

After one more kiss, this time to the back of his neck, Kurt pulled away and headed to the cupboard. He began to set the table.

"Okay, so…" he started, and by the tone of his voice, Blaine knew he had something important to say, that he had probably been mulling over the entire day. "I quit NYADA today."

Blaine, who was stirring the pasta, turned to look at him, eyebrows all the way up in his hairline. "Really? I didn't know you were still considering that."

"Yeah. I was in dance class and it just… hit me," Kurt explained, as he set the plates down on the kitchen table. "I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be at the office. In the past few months, without even being aware of it… all my expectations for the future changed. I don't want the same things I used to want. I feel like… I have new horizons, you know?"

Blaine smiled. "That's amazing, darling. Have you told Isabelle yet?"

"Why do you think she gave me extra projects? She's been holding back because she didn't want to overwhelm me," Kurt laughed and went back to the cabinet in search for napkins. "I'm excited about all the things I'll get to do at Vogue now. Like I'll be able to reach my full potential, you know?" He grabbed the napkins and seemed to float back to the table, like he was walking on clouds. "I feel like everything somehow fell into place. I know there'll be late days at the office when there's an inevitable crisis, but I don't have to run from one point of the city to the other anymore, from school to work and back. I feel… settled."

"I'm very happy for you," Blaine said honestly. He felt so proud of him too – he knew how hard Kurt had worked, how he had pushed himself day after day. "It sounds like it was the right decision. You just needed to be ready to reach it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Kurt beamed at him. He looked happier, lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "And who knows? Maybe at some point I'll go back to school, get a degree in fashion. But for now… this is what I want to be doing."

Blaine pulled away from the counter and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, pulling him close. "Hey. Do I still get to hear you perform?"

"Of course," Kurt chuckled, his arms immediately going around Blaine's shoulders. "Only if you play the piano for me, though."

"Deal," Blaine leaned in and kissed his cheek, before pulling away to go check on the food. "Well, if I'd known about your awesome news, I would have planned something better. Take you out to celebrate."

"There's no need. This is perfect," Kurt said. "Just you, and me, and this delicious food you made for me."

They sat to eat, feet tangled together under the table, like they needed to keep touching even while they were doing something else, and Kurt told Blaine all about his last dance class, and then about the current insanity at the office. This domesticity was exactly the kind of thing Blaine had craved for years, and it was so crazy to him that he had found it so easily with Kurt.

"What about you?" Kurt asked, as he reached for a slice of bread. "What were you up to today?"

Blaine couldn't help the long, heavy sigh that escaped him. He reached for his glass of wine and took a sip. "This is going to sound a little petulant, but I'm bored. I don't know what to do with myself now that I'm not working and running after Cooper all day long. And having nothing to do leads to overthinking everything..."

Kurt put his fork down and slid his hand across the table to grab Blaine's, his thumb stroking his knuckles. "There's nothing wrong with having time off, you know? You deserve it. From what you told me, you've worked too hard all your life. You can take it easy now."

Blaine smiled as he turned his hand around to catch Kurt's. "That's sweet, darling. But I just... I feel like..." he groaned in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Kurt murmured reassuringly, shifting his chair a bit closer. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"No, I do," Blaine said, squeezing his fingers briefly. "It's just that it's all very messy in my head right now. This is the first time in a long time that I can actually try to figure out what I want to do. And at the same time, I can't help feeling like I'm running late, you know? I'm nearly forty, Kurt. Whatever I start now... it has to be the right thing. I don't know if I'll have another chance to start over."

Kurt seemed unable to stop the eyeroll. "Blaine, sweetheart... don't be ridiculous. You're thirty seven, not eighty seven. There's always time. Don't put extra pressure on yourself just because of that. Didn't we agree that age is just a number?"

Blaine had no choice but to return the eyeroll. "I'm just trying to be logical. Practical."

Kurt used their intertwined hands to tug Blaine out of his seat. Blaine stood up and followed his lead, sitting down on Kurt's lap, his arms immediately going around his neck. Kurt looked up at him with patient, lovely blue eyes.

"Blaine," he said calmly. "What do you want? That's the only thing you need to figure out right now."

Blaine rested their foreheads together as he considered this. He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes as he tried to put his thoughts in order and realized that he had been sort of freaking out about this the entire day, but now that he was with Kurt, he was calmer, more rational. He could think better.

"I know my dreams have changed," he said at last, with yet another sigh. "I'm not the same passionate, wide-eyed kid I was when I first started in this business. But I still do love music. I think I'd like to do something with it, even if I'm not performing on a stage."

"You could perform," Kurt muttered, brushing Blaine's hair back gently. "You're so talented, Blaine."

"Thank you," Blaine said, dropping a quick little kiss on the tip of Kurt's nose. "But I think I'm a little disenchanted with it, after all this time. I think I need to approach music from a new angle." He shook his head. "I have no idea what that angle is yet. But I'll figure it out."

"You have all the time in the world," Kurt said, smiling up at him. "And I'm here every step of the way. Even if it's just to remind you that thirty seven does not mean you're doomed to never be useful again, Blaine."

Blaine chuckled. "Silly boy. I know. I'm sorry. I freak out sometimes." He allowed Kurt to pull him down into a brief kiss. "Okay, so... should we go back to our dinner before it goes cold?"

"Yes, please," Kurt said, rather eagerly. "I'm famished."

Later that night, when they were already in bed, Kurt with his lap full of reports and trying to finish reading some of them between yawns, Blaine failing to focus on a book, because it was impossible not to glance at Kurt every few seconds, at his beautiful face adorably scrunched up in concentration, his eyelids drooping slowly, Blaine realized that for the first time in a very, very long time, he felt excitement for whatever was to come. His future, his life, his career... it was all in his own hands. It was scary but it was also a bit of a relief.

All the pieces were falling into place. He just needed to make them fit just right.


Blaine woke up the next morning to Kurt slowly kissing his neck.

"Well," he said, voice still rough from sleep. "Good morning to me."

"My alarm is going to go off in like twenty minutes," Kurt whined. "And I just realized I wasted last night reading reports for work instead of doing something more interesting."

"Like what?" Blaine said, still not opening his eyes, his hand trailing up to the back of Kurt's head, to where his hair was a mess.

"A few things come to mind," Kurt whispered suggestively. Blaine felt his fingers settling over the elastic of his boxers, the touch feather light. "Wanna see how many we can do before my alarm goes off?"

Now Blaine did open his eyes, and tugged on Kurt's hair to get his mouth on his. He kissed him, deep and a little dirty. When he pulled away, Kurt's eyes were already dark, full of arousal. He pushed on his shoulder to get him to lie on his back. "I'll start."

He felt wide awake as he kissed down Kurt's neck, shoulders, chest. Kurt eagerly raised his hips to let him get his underwear down his legs, letting him uncover his cock, already hard and waiting. Blaine didn't waste a single second, and parted his lips and sucked him in, almost hungrily, going down, down, down until he felt the head hitting the back of his throat.

"Well," Kurt said in a choked voice. "Good morning to me."

Blaine's chuckle must have sent very delicious vibrations through him because Kurt moaned, throwing his head back against the pillows, fingers finding Blaine's curls and burying themselves in them. It only managed to spur Blaine on – he began to bob his head, licking at the underside of Kurt's cock on the way up and sucking enthusiastically on the way down.

He couldn't think of a better way to start his day, honestly.

Blaine had only been going at it for about two minutes, letting himself get lost in Kurt's pleasure, loving every little sound that came from him, when Kurt began to tug him away.

"Hold on, hold on," Kurt muttered rather brokenly. "Twenty minutes is nowhere near enough and I want to get to touch you and make you come, too."

"It's okay," Blaine said, swirling his tongue around the slit to gather the pre-come that had pooled there. "I can finish you off quickly and then…"

"No, no, just come on up," Kurt said, still tugging. "Come sit on my face."

Blaine pulled away and blinked up at Kurt as his cock twitched in his underwear. "Wait… what?"

Sweet Kurt, who had once been so unsure about being good at giving Blaine a blowjob now wanted…

"Come sit on my face," he insisted. "Unless…" and now he looked unsure all over again. "Unless you don't want that?"

"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine said, as he climbed up his body so he could kiss him. "That would be so hot. I just don't want to do anything you might not be comfortable with."

Kurt pushed his tongue into Blaine's mouth, a brief demonstration of his plans. "I'll let you know if I change my mind."

"You," Blaine whispered, lips pressed against Kurt's, "always zig when I think you're about to zag. I love that about you."

Kurt smiled in such a tender way, it looked completely out of place. They allowed each other a few seconds to kiss each other, before Blaine took his underwear off and he moved to comply.

"Oh, wait…" he said, stopping mid motion. "Let's try this, so I can keep sucking you off…" he added, and kneeled right above Kurt's shoulders, making sure not to knee him on the nose, facing away from him, leaning down to immediately get him back into his mouth, hips in the air as not to crowd Kurt too much. "Is it too much? Are you…?"

Kurt let out a little groan that told Blaine he approved enormously. He leaned in and bit Blaine's ass cheek softly as if to silence him. "It's perfect. God, so hot, Blaine…"

Since they had met, they'd had plenty of encounters that seemed to mark the pinnacle of Blaine's sexual life – the way Kurt gave himself so easily and freely when they were in bed together made it easy, after all, made Blaine want to give himself just as much. In all of his life, he had never had this kind of chemistry with another partner, not even with long term boyfriends who he had trusted more than anyone. He didn't know what it was about Kurt – was it just the raw magnetism? Or was it because Blaine was so in love with him that he wanted to give even more than he had given him, offer more than he had believed himself capable of? He wanted Kurt to feel levels of pleasure he had never expected, wanted to touch him in ways no one had ever touched him, wanted to let him use his body in any way he needed...

Sex had never felt like this, like his dick had a wire that went straight to his heart. Kurt ran his tongue over the vein in the underside of his cock and Blaine melted, not just with arousal, but with affection. Was it supposed to be like this? How could he know, when everything he had felt until now seemed to fade in comparison?

His whole life had been a large, stormy, grey cloud until Kurt. And now it opened up before him, clear skies and gentle breeze, and the sun shining down on him.

He shouldn't have felt so overcome with tenderness when his ass was hovering just a few inches above Kurt's face.

Not that Kurt seemed to mind. While Blaine sucked him in, cheeks hollowed, tongue pressed to the underside, he started off by giving tiny little kitten licks all over Blaine's cock, the inside of his thighs, his balls. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did, but oh, Blaine was so hard it was becoming painful.

And then Kurt grabbed handfuls of his ass, parted his cheeks and really, really went for it.

Blaine nearly fell headfirst into the bed – he was sure Kurt had figured it out by now, how much he loved this, when he held him open and fucked him with his tongue. For a moment, he was paralyzed, Kurt's cock pushed to the back of his throat, his eyes closed tightly, ass pushing back against Kurt's face, until Kurt subtly thrust his hips, wordlessly asking him to move, to do something, and who was Blaine not to give him exactly what he asked for?

The room was now filled with the wet sounds of their mouths working each other closer and closer to climax, with the moans escaping Kurt every now and then, with Blaine's needy whines and groans.

They came almost at the same time, Blaine spilling all over Kurt's chest and stomach, Kurt buried in Blaine's throat. He swallowed every single drop before he pulled away, panting heavily, feeling like his legs were about to give out and not wanting to crush Kurt to death. He tucked himself to Kurt's side, leaned in to lick his belly and chest clean, Kurt's cock twitching and trying to get hard again too soon at the sight, and then they finally, finally collapsed, arms around each other, sweaty and sated, and perfectly content to hold each other for the rest of the day.

For the rest of their lives, even if neither said so.

And then Kurt's alarm went off, and they looked at each other, and they laughed.

Kurt hit the snooze button and then leaned in to kiss Blaine, both smiling so wide it made it a little awkward. "Definitely more interesting than my reports."

Blaine cupped his face and thought: I love you, I love you, I love you. But he didn't say it. Not yet. "You honestly never stop surprising me."

"That's good," Kurt said, nuzzling against his cheek, slightly scratchy with morning stubble. "I wouldn't want you to get bored with me."

"Impossible, darling," Blaine whispered. "But it does make it hard for me to let you get out of bed."

Kurt ran a hand down Blaine's chest, over his stomach, down to where he was now soft. His cock twitched in interest at Kurt's gentle ministrations. "Well, I wouldn't say it's hard now, but we could work on it..."

Blaine laughed, throwing his head back against the pillows. He felt happy. So ridiculously happy. "You're incorrigible."

Kurt smiled and sighed and let his head rest on Blaine's chest. He watched him like there was nothing else in the world that could hold his attention right now. "What are you going to do today? Any plans?"

Blaine threaded his fingers through Kurt's messy bed hair. "I think I might go and check on Cooper, see how he's doing. I may not want to work for him anymore, but he's still a bit helpless when it comes to the daily things. I need to help him find a replacement for me soon." He allowed himself to get lost in Kurt's eyes for a moment, before he asked: "Are you heading back to Bushwick tonight? Or can you spend the night again?"

Kurt pouted adorably. "I'm afraid I have to go home. I need to do laundry. Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," Blaine said, and he was about the kiss the pout away when Kurt's alarm blared again. He sighed as Kurt reached to turn it off. "Guess you have to run now, huh? What was the point of quitting my job if you didn't quit yours?"

Kurt chuckled and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest before he pulled away to get out of bed. "We should have planned this better. Okay, gotta run. Can I take the shower first?"

"Of course. I'll go get breakfast started," Blaine said, sitting up in bed and catching his hand before Kurt had the chance to move away. He pulled him into one last kiss – he couldn't quite resist. "Sorry. I wasn't done with you yet."

He gave himself a few seconds to watch Kurt walk towards the bathroom – his perfect ass on full display, and when had Kurt stopped being worried about wandering around naked? It made Blaine feel like Kurt trusted him as much as Blaine trusted Kurt.

They were on the right path.

Maybe it was time to put all the cards on the table, and tell him how he really, really felt.


The fridge hadn't magically grown any new food in the last ten minutes, but Cooper still stared, as if willing for something to appear. When the staring tragically failed, he let out a heavy sigh and turned around. There was a box on the kitchen island with a couple of pizza slices still left in it from the night before – or was it the night before that? He sat on a stool and munched on them, sipping on his coffee in between bites, as he realized that, for the very first time in his adult life, he was going to have to go to the supermarket.

It shouldn't have been such a depressing thought, and yet…

He was just wondering if dipping the pizza crust in his coffee would be too disgusting when he heard the sounds of keys jiggling in the lock and, a handful of seconds later, Blaine walked into the kitchen. Cooper looked at him in surprise.

"Good morning, Coop," Blaine said. He placed his bag on a stool and clapped his back before he headed straight for the coffee maker. "Wow, this place is a mess. How many pizzas have you ordered in the past couple of days? You need to eat better…"

Cooper blinked. It almost felt like things were back to normal – Blaine walking into his apartment in the morning and putting his day in order, making Cooper's life manageable and easier. Except… he looked different. This was not the same Blaine who would pick up his laundry and restock his pantry, eyes empty, functioning out of habit more than anything.

There was a spark in his eyes now, and the corners of his lips seemed to be eager to pull upwards, like smiling was the most natural response they could come up with for any situation. He walked taller, as if he had finally shaken the weight of the world off his shoulders.

He looked really good.

Cooper sipped his coffee to try and regain his composure and said: "Hey Squirt. What's up?"

Blaine poured himself a cup and leaned against the kitchen counter to look at him. "Just wanted to check on you. How are you doing? I'm trying not to judge by the state of your apartment, but it's hard."

Not too long ago, Cooper would have grinned brightly and say he was doing wonderfully, splendidly, amazingly. But since the mask had shattered… it was ten times harder to lie.

And he didn't want to lie anymore. Especially not to Blaine.

He shrugged, because he couldn't help trying to be nonchalant about it anyway. "I've been better. You?"

"I'm fine. But talk to me," Blaine said, coming to sit next to him, frowning a bit in concern. "Has dad been back to see you?"

Cooper shook his head. "No, he hasn't."

"Good," Blaine let out a little exhale. "That's good. He came over to my place a few days ago, and I made it clear that he won't mess with us anymore, so if he shows up again… you call me, okay?"

"Of course," Cooper said, leaning a little closer to his brother, worry filling him. "Are you okay? Did he…?"

"I'm fine. He won't bother us anymore, I don't think." Blaine patted his hand. "What have you been up to? Did you go back to work?"

Cooper took a deep breath. It looked like this might be the perfect time to tell Blaine what he had been considering the past couple of weeks – well, the past few years, actually. It was now or never, Cooper knew.

"I did, yeah, I did," he said, and then cleared his throat. "I wanted… I wanted to talk to you about it, actually."

"Sure, what is it?" Blaine asked, always so open, always so ready to be there for him.

"I want to quit the show," Cooper said, and as soon as the words were out, relief washed over him. Blaine didn't say anything, simply waited, as if he already knew that there was more that Cooper needed to say. "I don't want to do this anymore. Any of it. For years I kept doing what dad made me do, because I didn't know anything else. I still don't know anything else, and I have no idea what I'm going to do with my life, but I… Blaine, I'm fifty years old and I haven't been happy a single day in my life. I have never lived a life I wanted or was proud of. I don't really know who I am or what I want. There… there has to be more than this, right? Something that makes everything feel like it's worth it?"

Blaine smiled sadly at him. "Of course there is. You just need to figure it out. You can do whatever you want, Cooper. Whatever you set your mind to."

"You don't think it's too late?" Cooper asked, eyes wide and hopeful on his brother.

Blaine ducked his head, and the way his smile sweetened, told him he was thinking of something special. "You know, I had a very similar conversation about this last night. With Kurt. He told me that it's never late. And I have to say that I agree. You're free to do whatever you want, Coop. Even if you don't know what it is yet, you are allowed to take as much time as necessary to figure it out."

"You look…" Cooper paused and considered him. "You look really happy."

"I am," Blaine said simply. "I didn't know I could be this happy. It's new and it's exciting. I want the same thing for you, no matter what that looks like for you."

"Is it because of Kurt?" Cooper wanted to know. He didn't have someone in his life like Blaine had Kurt. He didn't know if he could.

"Mostly, yes," Blaine nodded. "He's… he's amazing. It feels like he's woken me up from a really long slumber and showed me what it's like to be brave, to be excited about things again. He kind of makes me believe anything is possible, really…" He stopped and looked at Cooper, before he added: "I'm in love with him, Coop. I love him in a way I didn't think I was capable of. I know people look at us and feel like it doesn't make sense…"

"It does," Cooper interrupted him. He had seen them together. Had seen the way they had intertwined their lives, how they danced around each other, complimenting each other. He had seen the way Kurt looked at Blaine, the way Blaine seemed to relax when Kurt was around. "It makes all the sense in the world."

Blaine smiled gratefully at him before reaching to squeeze his arm. "Go for it, Coop. Quit the show. Do whatever changes you feel are necessary. Take it one step at a time. I'll be here to support you in any way I can."

"Really?" Cooper muttered, and once again all he could feel was hope and relief.

"Of course," Blaine said earnestly. "Though… May I make a suggestion?" He waited until Cooper nodded to continue: "I feel it would be a good starting place for you, if you talked things through with a therapist."

The word felt like a ton of bricks falling on him.

"I know it feels daunting," Blaine said reassuringly. "But you went through a lot, Coop. You bottled things up that you shouldn't have kept inside for so long. A therapist would help you cope in a healthier way."

Cooper ran a hand through his messy hair. "I've… I've actually thought about it once or twice. I think it might be a good idea." He looked at Blaine, hoping his little brother understood how important it was for him to be better. To be a good person. To stop pushing everyone else away. "I just want… I want to be the kind of person you'd like to keep around, you know? I want to be a part of your life, Blaine. A real brother. Not the douchebag who orders you around. Just… a brother."

"That's what I've always wanted, Coop," Blaine murmured, patting his back.

"I would like to…" He paused, unsure. "I would like to get to know Kurt a little better. If that's okay. Since he's so important to you…"

Blaine beamed at him like he had said the right thing. "That would be great, Coop. Maybe we can all have dinner together. But no pressure. You focus on yourself first, alright?"

It was scary, thinking of starting over at his age, from scratch. It was scary realizing he had no one in his life he could lean on, except for his brother, who he believed he already owed too much to. It was scary, thinking of the future and seeing it blank like a canvas.

He took a deep breath. It also felt good, standing up for himself for the first time ever, and making a decision that he knew would be for the better.

"So, what about you?" Cooper asked, because he needed to shift the focus for a bit, and he was genuinely curious about what his brother wanted to do. "I mean, besides Kurt. Have you decided what you want to do yet? Have you been looking for work?"

"Well…" Blaine turned around and went back to the coffee maker to refill his cup. "I've been toying with an idea. I haven't really thought it through yet, but I think I might be excited about it."

"Are you going to go back to performing?" Cooper asked – his brother had shined so brightly… it would only be logical to see him on a stage again.

But Blaine shook his head. "No. Not exactly. I think those days are behind me… I might save my performing moments for the privacy of my house and my piano, and only for my boyfriend. He's the only audience I want to perform for." That dreamy smile on his face… Cooper didn't think he had ever seen anything like it. Not even with Derek. Not even before life became such a bitter thing to Blaine. "But I do want to do something with music. I… I can tell you about it, if you'd like to hear it?"

Cooper smiled at him – a genuine smile, not meant for the spotlight but for someone he cared about deeply. "I'd love to hear about it."

He listened to his brother as he talked, the enthusiasm growing more and more with every single word he said, and he was so full of life, and so full of happiness, it was as if light was radiating off him.

Cooper watched him and smiled and, for the first time in decades, finally believed that everything was going to be alright.


Things are looking up for all of our boys! :D

Hope you liked this chapter. I will see you on Saturday!

In case there needs to be changes in my updating schedule, I will let you guys know on Twitter (TheFicWhisperer) so you can all follow me there :)

Love,

L.-