Blaine awoke and jolted with a start when the lights came on. It took him a few seconds of blinking into the light to remember where he was. In the hospital, in a narrow bed with metal rails, machines beeping near his head, next to Kurt. Kurt, oh my god, how was Kurt? He looked over at his boyfriend, his fiancé, hooked up to an IV, bruises above both eyes, cut on his swollen right cheek, but still sleeping. How could anyone do that to him? To his Kurt, who was just trying to help a complete stranger in an alley, who was being beaten for the very act of being himself.
A woman in pale blue scrubs – a doctor, a nurse, an orderly maybe? – Blaine had never seen this person before, had turned on the lights and barely glanced at Blaine. "Sir, you have to move", she said rather sternly. "I need to take his vitals", motioning to Kurt. Blaine hadn't left Kurt's side since he was finally allowed to see him in the hospital. "Oh, OK", he replied softly before gingerly moving away from Kurt to climb out of the bed and allow the woman to do her job. As he was pushing away, he felt a hand on his wrist. "Blaine?", Kurt whispered hoarsely, blinking his eyes, then wincing. As far as he knew, this was the first time Kurt had woken up since he'd been attacked. The doctors said that he was sleeping because of the morphine, but it made Blaine's insides just hurt when he wouldn't wake up to the touch of his hand or the sound of Blaine's voice. "Hey, I'm right here. Do you know where you are?" Kurt nodded. "They're just going to check you out. I'm not going anywhere, OK?" Kurt just nodded again, not letting go of Blaine's wrist.
Blaine noticed a nametag pinned to the woman's scrubs: Denise. As she removed the blood pressure cough from Kurt's arm, she looked directly at Kurt, who had shut his eyes again, and said "everything seems fine, sir. Once you're cleared from concussion protocol, you should be fine to go home." But then she, Denise, turned back to Blaine and said "Sir, you really shouldn't be here. Visiting hours are over. Unless you are his… immediate family?" She scrunched her face as she said it, not in a bad way, but with a look of just play along. Yes, Blaine agreed, "immediate family". It wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't really a lie either. I mean, they were engaged. They were almost immediate family. Blaine wondered what Denise had thought, seeing two teenage boys laying together in this hospital bed, then Kurt holding on to Blaine and not letting go. When she left the room, she turned the lights off once more, and Blaine immediately nestled back into place, pressing close to Kurt. "Hey", he turned to Kurt, and ran his hand up and down Kurt's arm. "Are you awake? Do you know where you are?", he repeated. Kurt again nodded, whispered "the hospital" and strained to open his eyes again. As he did, he turned to look at Blaine and cleared his throat.
"OK, tell me straight. How bad is it? Do you think I'll have a scar?"
Blaine gave a half-crooked smile. "That's your concern, huh? A scar?", he teased back. "Always were rather vain, weren't you?"
"Yup, and you can't make fun of me, because I'm in the hospital. And I think whatever pain meds they gave me are wearing off," Kurt winced. "Just make they get me the good stuff, OK? And if they need to take pictures for evidence, make sure they get my good side." After everything that had happened to him, Kurt still wanted to make Blaine smile.
Blaine practically ran into the Bushwick apartment the next night for their weekly Monday night dinners with the New Directions gang who were living in NYC. He was looking forward to seeing Rachel, Sam, Mercedes, and Artie, of course, but he was mostly anxious to see Kurt. Kurt had insisted that Blaine leave the hospital. ("No, you can't miss your critique, Blaine, just to watch me sleep", he insisted. "Madame Tibideaux will fail you. I can't have that on my conscience." Blaine only agreed once he knew that Burt Hummel had made it into the city, would probably give his son a good talking to, and would bring him home from the hospital.) He found Kurt in his bedroom, looking into the mirror, lightly touching the bruises on his face. "Hey," he started. "You look much better today… better that you are back in your own place again." It had been their place. At least Blaine thought so, until the tight living quarters became too much for them, and Blaine had moved out. Seeing Kurt sitting there, he never wanted to leave again. Kurt stood up slowly, obviously in discomfort, and turned to face Blaine, cocking his head slightly to the side. Avoiding the urge to jump right over the bed and into Kurt's arms, he walked slowly to Kurt, wrapped his hands gently around his neck and melted into a hug. Kurt's arms wrapped around Blaine's waist, and they just stood, embracing, not speaking. Blaine wasn't sure how long they'd been standing there until Rachel's voice came from the kitchen calling them for dinner.
Since Blaine had moved out of Kurt's apartment, the end of the day was always awkward. Blaine stayed over every Saturday night, so that he could make Kurt breakfast in bed every Sunday. And Kurt usually stayed with him on Wednesday nights, since the apartment Blaine shared with Mercedes and Sam was closer to school, easier for an early Thursday class they both shared. But the other nights? Blaine wanted to stay with Kurt all of the time. He loved sleeping with him. Of course, there was the physical part, but besides that… He loved being nestled up next to Kurt as he fell asleep. Their bodies just fit perfectly together. He loved waking up and seeing Kurt slowly blink himself awake, or running his fingers through Kurt's hair before his hand would be playfully swatted away. He just slept better when he was next to Kurt. But there was space...boundaries... they had both agreed that they didn't need the pressure of living together right now. Every night they were in the other's apartment, that wasn't a Saturday or Wednesday, always ended with a somewhat awkward conversation. A conversation where they probably were both lying every single time.
Do you want to stay here tonight? (Both hoping the answer was Yes.)
What do you want to do? (Both thinking the same thing and not answering.)
Tonight would be no different. Only it was. Because Blaine had been standing in this very apartment less than 48 hours earlier when a stranger on the phone told him that Kurt was in the hospital. Not why he was in the hospital. Not whether he was hurt, dead, alive, just that Blaine should come. And the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, which only got worse during the longest cab ride of his life to that emergency room, just reminded him how badly he needed Kurt to be in his life. To be okay… to be by his side... to eventually be his husband. But then, the same awkward conversation started again. Blaine started this time.
Do you want me to stay here tonight? (Hoping the answer was yes.)
You can, if you want, but I have to wake up every 4 hours to take medicine. Don't feel like you have to. I don't want to keep you awake, too.
Okay.
Blaine started towards his jacket, but stopped. Everyone else had left. Rachel was busying herself with some sheet music in the kitchen. He turned around to face Kurt, who was still just standing there. He moved closer, within a few inches, to where he could be heard with just a whisper. "Dam it, Kurt. You could have died. I watched you sleep, unconscious, in that awful hospital room, praying that you heard my voice, knew that I was there, and that I loved you. I'm not going back and forth on this tonight. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it." It came out harsher than what Blaine had intended, who locked eyes with Kurt and held his gaze. This time it was Kurt who gently weaved his arms around Blaine's neck. He leaned in closer, closed his eyes, and quietly admitted: "Stay. Please, I want you to stay."
It was just past 11:00PM and Kurt needed to wait until midnight to take his pain medication. Teeth brushed, pajamas on – except for Blaine who preferred to sleep in a t-shirt and boxers – and moisturizing routine completed. ("Just because I may have a scar doesn't mean I need dry skin, Blaine," he had stated sarcastically, while working the cream around his bruises.) Kurt got into bed first, his usual right side of the bed, of course. He propped himself up against some pillows, then held out his right arm, nodding towards his outstretched plan. Blaine knew the signal. He crept carefully into Kurt's arm, nuzzled his head into Kurt's chest, and settled in next to him. By habit, he wrapped his top arm around Kurt's waist and reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers. Then he froze, remembering that Kurt's knuckles were just as bruised as his face from fighting back his attackers. He instinctively lifted his fingers away from Kurt's hand and squeaked out an "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you OK?" "Yes, I'm fine", Kurt replied and wiggled Blaine's hand back into his own. "It doesn't hurt. Honest. Besides, I always feel better when you hold my hand." Blaine smiled and started rubbing his thumb in circles on Kurt's bruised hand.
"Blaine?", Kurt sighed. "I'm tired."
"I know, babe, but you can't go to sleep just yet. Midnight for your medicine, right?"
"Right, but that's not what I mean. I mean, I'm tired of talking about what happened… tired of having nightmares that it was you getting beaten up in that alley… tired of being in pain. I just want to feel - I don't know- alive again. Like myself. Do you know what I mean?"
Kurt then used his free hand to start stroking Blaine's arm, up and down. Blaine knew what that usually meant. It was like Kurt's "bat signal" that he was in the mood to fool around.
"Kurt, we can't. Seriously, I'm flattered, but you just got out of the hospital."
Kurt stopped caressing Blaine's arm and sighed quietly. "I know I must look pretty terrible right now anyway."
Blaine propped himself up to a seated position to look at Kurt, who had now closed his eyes. Looking at Kurt's bruised, cut face and swollen cheek made him ache, but not because he looked terrible. Just the opposite. Even with all of those painful reminders of what he'd been through, Kurt' face was still beautiful. Kurt's everything was beautiful. Blaine couldn't believe that Kurt would think that. "Kurt, you are still the most gorgeous man I've ever laid eyes on. No bruises will ever take that away."
He leaned in, starting with a very light kiss, barely brushing his lips near Kurt's scarred left eyebrow. He moved over to his right eye, kissing just a little harder this time, then moved down to the bruise on his cheek. At this point, Kurt opened his eyes and looked at Blaine. He scooted down a bit off his propped pillows and smiled, looking up at Blaine who was now hovering right over him. Blaine collapsed down, partially on top of Kurt, and moved his kisses further down his face, first to below his ear, and then his jawline, pressing harder with his lips each time. "Are you sure about this?" Blaine whispered. "Blaine, please, I need this", Kurt replied breathlessly, arching his head further back. Blaine Anderson, always a very polite young man, could never say No when Kurt asked so nicely.
Kurt and Blaine lay together, limbs intertwined, until an alarm beeped on Kurt's phone. Midnight. Medicine time. Blaine got out of bed, cleaned himself up with a towel, then put his boxers and t-shirt back on, just in case Rachel should be awake, and went into the kitchen. He filled a glass of water, chose the right bottle of pills, and returned to the bedroom to find Kurt fast asleep. He knew he had to wake him, but let himself just watch this boy he loved so much. Kurt slept with his arm and hand outstretched, just like earlier in the evening, just waiting for Blaine to settle in to him. Blaine blinked a few times, fending off tears. "It's true", he thought, "you really are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
