A/N: This was written in my Health class a couple months ago, during a movie about Marines or something or other. Something military, anyway.

Blaine is beaten into a coma and spends about a month asleep. If you've ever seen Supernatural, the time frame is similar to Dean's death and subsequent time in Hell (for those who haven't: he was dead for a month, but was in Hell for a decade). When he wakes, he discovers that everything he 'experienced' while in the coma was fake, something his mind made up. Then he meets Kurt, who had been there in the dreams with him. Unknown to him, Kurt had also been in a coma during that time frame.

I might come back and keep writing it. I remember exactly what I intended to do with this piece.

Funfact: Aaron/Blaine's couple name is Abba.

Blaine exchanged a shy smile with his date, a guy named Aaron Black who had also just come out, inspired by Blaine's courage in doing so first. He was a tall, lanky blonde sophomore with a quirky grin. Blaine had asked him to go to prom with him, and Aaron had agreed. They were able to ignore the hostile stares because of the demanding girlfriends who wanted a perfect prom, but had mutually agreed to leave early to avoid being jumped.

It wasn't to be so. Not every person who hated them (ie the jocks) was at the prom, and the ones that were had cell phones with texting capabilities.

When the two managed to make it out of the done up gym and to the nearest parking lot (there were three), they noticed there were some people hiding between the vehicles. Blaine realized what was happening first.

"Get to the car, Aaron, and call our parents," Blaine said in a low voice. He was trembling. Aaron could feel it where he had gripped the shorter boy's bicep.

"What about you? I can leave you here!" he whispered harshly, tugging Blaine backwards, away from the advancing wannabe thugs before them.

"You might not have a choice, Aaron. You're the only one with a phone, so you're the only one able to call the police," Blaine reasoned with a dark tone. He had no idea why his parents refused him a phone. It was probably a really stupid reason, especially since he came out.

"But, Blaine…" Aaron whimpered helplessly as his grip became tighter. Blaine was a really nice guy; Aaron didn't want him hurt. The thugs advanced faster, closer, eyes gleaming a predatory red in the streetlamps, like animals.

They missed the ones that had hid themselves around the corner of the gymnasium, out of sight of the doors. They'd been following the couple, laden with baseball bats, cleats, and switchblades.

Blaine heard the whistle the air made when a bat smashed into his head, knocking him into Aaron, who caught him and slowed his descent to the ground in his shock. The side of Blaine's head was now bloody, and as he looked up, dazed and confused, the sight of Aaron blurred in front of him before being dropped as they dragged Blaine away from him, yelling vicious slurs.

He had enough awareness to choke out, "Run!" before the pack descended upon him.

"Hey," Kurt said as he dropped onto the cushions next to his now-senior fiancée. Both were smiling like loons. This was the first time they'd actually seen the other in two months, since September in fact, when Kurt had started college at NYU.

"Hey, yourself," Blaine answered, opening his arms. "Come here. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, Blaine," Kurt replied with a sunny smile before he slipped into Blaine's outstretched arms. It felt like they did this both yesterday and never before. Kurt felt his worrying about his schedule disappear in that moment as he finally relaxed.

It was about an hour before either moved again, too busy relishing the other's presence. Kurt hummed a little, reminiscent of purring, when Blaine ran his fingers along the curve of Kurt's spine.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine whispered as he tilted his head and brushed his lips against Kurt's ear. Kurt seemed to exhale shakily and snuggle in closer.

"I love you just as much, Blaine," he mumbled, "even if sometimes I'm sure it's all a dream."

At the time, Blaine didn't pay attention to that remark. Later on, however, that particular phrase stuck in his mind, and made him ask a question.

"Hey, Blaine?" Kurt questioned as he looked at his diploma a year after graduating from NYADA. The couple had been unpacking as they moved into their new apartment.

"Yeah, Kurt?" was Blaine's response as he half hung out of a particularly tall box, digging around for the hall wall photos, below the living room and bedroom pictures.

"Something just occurred to me," he said, gazing at the blurred looping letters that declared him valedictorian of NYADA's graduating class of 2017. He had been admitted into another school and had transferred into NYADA for his junior and senior years.

Blaine pulled out of the box to look at his husband. "What's bothering you, Kurt?"

"It's just… it just hit me that I don't remember anything I learned at either of my schools."

"What? How is that possible?" asked as shocked Blaine.

"And I can't see my diploma clearly," continued Kurt, as though Blaine hadn't spoken at all. "It's all… blurred. The only thing I remember clearly is you."

Blaine stared at Kurt for a moment.

Then he woke up.

"I think… waking… Blaine? Blaine!" a soprano voice warbled, becoming clearer with every half-heard word. It sounded like his mother, but that was impossible; she'd died when he was twenty-three, during his college sophomore year of an undetected ball of cancer near her heart.

"Oh, Blaine…" came a deeper voice. It was his father, and that was just as unlikely as his mother; he had died in a drunk driving accident. He'd been stumbling home, drunk after his wife of thirty years had died, and been struck by someone who decided to drink and drive home from the same bar. It was the second funeral that month. Blaine had cried so much… Kurt hadn't known how to help.

… Kurt…

Blaine groaned. What in the world had happened?

There was a frantic rushing of nurses bustling around his room. One smiled, noticing his bewildered stare, and said, "Welcome back, Mr. Anderson."

But his name was Hummel-Anderson.

Blaine was in Dalton again. Apparently, he'd heard of it before he was beaten into a coma, and had incorporated it into his dream life. He'd been told everything else there, from his parents deaths to his loving husband to even his brother starring in three award winning movies, were all a lie he'd told himself in the coma-induced vision so he could avoid waking up again, in pain and alone.

Now he was late for their performance in the senior commons, having been staring at the wall in his room for too long.

There was a tap on his shoulder that disturbed his rushing. "Excuse me," asked an absolutely beautiful, familiar voice, "but can you—Blaine?"

Blaine had turned around to see if it was indeed the love of his life that had risen from the cemetery of his mind to reenact his most cherished memories. The fact that he knew his name told him it was true. He'd gone insane. "Kurt," he whispered, pulse slow even as he felt his heart start to race.

"Oh god, Blaine…" Kurt's hand quivered as he lifted it to touch the face of his long disappeared husband of five years, and lover of nine. "I thought you were a lie." He choked out 'lie' like it was physically painful to say it. "I missed you. I'm so glad to see you."

"Kurt…" was the breathy response before Blaine reached out and yanked Kurt against him, their lips touching the other hungrily, like the other was going to disappear again if they didn't taste the other in their mouth for as long as they could. They pressed together, from hip to chest, arms tangling around each other's waist and shoulders, heedless to the stunned teenage boys around them attempting to use the staircase.

It wasn't every day you saw someone commonly known as the 'Lone Warbler' start to spontaneously make out with someone he just met on a staircase. Someone wandered off to the performance to let the Warblers know they had just lost their only single gay Warbler to love.

Still not paying any attention to the numerous gawkers, Kurt shifted his weight as Blaine climbed onto him, legs wrapping around his waist. Kurt turned and pressed Blaine against the wooden railing of the stairs to better hold up against his weight.

"I missed you so much, so much," Kurt whimpered into Blaine's neck as Blaine worked on creating the darkest hickey he could on Kurt's pulse point.

"I love you, Kurt, love you forever," Blaine mumbled once he detached. Kurt turned the tables on him, going for the neck next, leaving his own mark. Blaine's eyes closed and his head fell back, a moan falling from his kiss-swollen lips, back arching his chest closer in pleasure.

The several students getting an impromptu show shifted where they stood, and only a few actually left to take care of their 'problems.' Kurt and Blaine, oblivious to the various people watching, started to cool down, convinced not that the other was indeed real. They leaned their foreheads together, breathing into the other's mouth, sharing air. Blaine noticed (eventually) that his legs were wrapped around Kurt. His cheeks blushed a pretty shade of pink (something that had been missing from their heated make out session), but didn't move, which Kurt smiled at before pecking him on the lips with a dreamy murmur of, "I love you."

At this point, the lingering Daltonites decided now was the time to leave the two lovebirds alone.

Both their eyes glittered with unshed tears as they stayed still. "How's it different now?" Blaine asked as he struggled not to let the tears fall. He knew some things had changed with him, big things. He had wondered what would have changed with Kurt, if he were the one who had woken up instead of him. Now he had a chance to find out.

"Well," Kurt began, "my father hasn't had a heart attack yet." His smile was wide and contagious enough that Blaine couldn't help but give one back. He knew just how devastated Kurt had been with the first attack, and how the second had succeeded in killing his father by rupturing Burt's heart's thinner walls. Burt had drowned in his own blood in front of his horrified wife and children on Christmas morning in 2017. It seemed Kurt had managed to correct some of the damage this time around. He'd likely unleashed Death Stare #47 (which had stopped a gang of New York thugs from attempting to mug Kurt on a subway home from class) in order to get Burt to comply.

"That's good," Blaine said. "That's very good."

"Finn now thinks I'm insane," was a nonchalant bullet in Kurt's speech. "Rachel thinks I'm a musical genius. They've broken up three times because of it, which is amusing."

"I'm not lead Warbler this time," Blaine mentions. "I didn't have the 'passion' they were looking for. I was still recovering from not moving for a month, so my throat wasn't strong enough to hold my notes. It makes me wonder how I got lead last time." His ass was beginning to feel numb from the railing. He squirmed a little and Kurt immediately pulled back enough so Blaine could slide down, but they never lost physical touch.

"I'm also closer to Cooper now. In the dreams, right after the dance, I was too scared to reach out first. I thought he'd reject me again, like I felt he did the first time he left for Hollywood, but no. Once he heard what happened, he rushed straight up here and cried on me. He was the first thing to feel right when I got back. Now you're here," and a broad grin settled on his face as he hugged closer to his husband of five years, "and it's like the sun is shining again."

"Like the stars should fall for you?" Kurt smiled back, his eyes bright blue in his joy. They shined with mischief. This game was a familiar one. They score was sorely uneven.

"Like the moon has reentered orbit around my heart." Blaine knew how to win this. He just used more and more ridiculous metaphors and similes.

"Like you rebuilt the sky after it fell on me."

"Like birds no longer need bees."

That prompted a giggle from Kurt. "But they never have, Blaine. We're birds too, aren't we?"

"Hm, no, we are. Either way, I win," Blaine chortled.

"You only win because you distract me, love."