A/N- Yes, I know this isn't my usual update day, but I've finished writing this story now, so welcome to the world of daily updates, my friends!

The whole thing is 48 chapters, so I hope you enjoy the rest.

Becky.

"Please," Blaine whispers desperately. "Please don't."

"I know," Kurt sobs through a cascade of tears. "I'm sorry. I'm trying. Really."

"I know." Clutching the phone tighter, Blaine rolls onto his side, biting hard on his knuckles to keep from breaking down altogether. "Soon, yes? We'll be together soon. I love you so much."

"I know you do," and Kurt allows a small laugh to escape. "I still can't believe you flew to Albuquerque for less than twenty four hours, you goon."

"It was pure selfishness, I can assure you," Blaine says, a squeaky and tearful laugh filling his voice. "I simply couldn't have lasted five weeks without you. Tell me about your day?"

"I'd really rather not," Kurt sighs. "It's the same old story. Everyone is fed up with everyone else. I'm pretty sure Kerry and Richard are having an affair, and it's only a matter of time before Lyndsey- that's his wife- finds out. Derek asked me out again, and again I said no, the air con on the bus isn't working and our audience figure for last night reached the dizzying heights of thirty seven. See? Same old."

"Oh Kurt," Blaine sighs. "Why don't you just rent a car like I've been telling you? You can drive yourself between venues, and book yourself into better hotels while you're at it."

"Because I want to do it this way. I'm still hopeful that somewhere among the cast and crew I might find a friend of some sorts, other than Derek who just leches at me. I don't want to alienate myself even more. But enough about me, how's your tour going?"

"Oh...um..yeah. It's okay," Blaine says dismissively.

"You can tell me the truth, Blaine," Kurt sighs.

"It's going good. Better than good, actually, it's amazing."

"I'm happy for you," Kurt says genuinely.

"Really? Cause I'm conscious that I don't want to make you feel even worse..."

"No. Actually it's really nice to hear that at least one of us is enjoying the summer."

"I wouldn't go as far to say I'm enjoying it," Blaine says, the upset still evident in his voice. "That won't be the case until we're back together."

"So what do you have left?"

"Two here in Pittsburgh, then two in DC, a day off, one more in DC then three in New York."

"Then home."

"Then home," he says, letting out a contented sigh. "For a restless twenty four hours until my husband is back in my arms where he belongs."

"And then we leave for Ohio," Kurt points out.

"Yes. Three nights at home then we're off again, but at least it's together this time. Are you sure your dad and Carole don't mind us staying?"

"Not at all. Your parents place will be pretty crowded with Cooper and his brood, plus Joe, I hear."

"I feel for Maddie and Tay," Blaine says, trying to stifle a yawn when he notices it's gone one in the morning. "I'm not sure they envisaged spending their sweet sixteen at their grandparents house, but although dad is doing so much better, there's no way he'd manage the journey."

"Actually, Taylor seemed pretty excited on Facebook the other day."

"Ah yes, I forgot you youngsters have all these magical and mysterious ways to communicate with each other."

"I'm not sure I'd call Facebook mysterious," Kurt laughs. "I put our wedding pictures on there the other day, you should take a look. Rachel liked and commented on every single one."

"I can imagine," Blaine smiles. "I'll take a look tomorrow."

"So are you seeing her or Santana when you're in New York?"

"Santana is in Chicago for the summer actually," Blaine tells him. "Her and Lacy have found jobs tending bar somewhere, and seem happy enough. I'm taking Rachel out for lunch, but that's about it."

"Oh."

"I'll be okay, Kurt."

"I know you will," Kurt says lightly. "You're a big boy now."

"Will you dream of me tonight?" a wistful and now sleepy Blaine asks as he turns out the light.

"As always," Kurt smiles softly. "You sound so tired tonight. Let me sing to you, for a change."

"I'd like that," Blaine says, feeling sudden warmth flaring in his heart. "Sing me a love song."

"Have you ever been in love?" Kurt's voice sings softly as Blaine closes his eyes contentedly.
"You could touch the moonlight
When your heart is shooting stars
You're holding heaven in your arms
Have you ever been in love?..."

A week later and Blaine climbs from the tour bus when it pulls up at the Four Seasons in a stifilingly hot and humid New York City. His usual happy and animated chatter has disappeared, indeed Ken and Riccardo- easily his closest friends in the orchestra- have noticed he's been off since their final performance in DC, opting to sit by himself on the bus and staring disconsolately out through the window for the duration of the journey.

"Blaine!" Riccardo calls as they collect their bags. "We go bar, yes? You like bar?"

"No, thanks, Riccardo," he says with a sad smile. "I'm just gonna go up to my room." He swallows over the lump rising in his throat, shaking his head slightly when his vision starts to swim before his eyes. "Kurt," he mumbles to himself, hoping he can make it to his room and call him before he passes out. "Need Kurt."

"Blaine, buddy, you okay?" Ken asks with concern, noticing the way he wobbles on his feet as sweat beads at his brow. "Want me to bring your stuff for you?"

"Kurt," he repeats, a little louder as he starts to panic and rushes toward the hotel, knowing he will throw up any second. He pushes through the doors, whirling around in a frenzy to find the bathroom, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. A strong arm guides him across the lobby, pushing open a door just in time for Blaine to hurl the contents of his stomach into the toilet until he can heave no more. He sinks to the floor, gratefully accepting the bottle of water offered without looking up, still waiting for his vision to correct itself. "Stupid fucking city," he murmurs angrily. "I hate this place."

"It's three days, Blaine. We can do this."

Blaine's head snaps up so quickly he is unable to see a thing, but the voice is enough. "Kurt?"

Crouching on the floor next to him, Kurt smoothes his unruly hair back from his forehead and kisses his lips gently, not caring one bit about the vomit on his breath. "The one and only."

"You came."

"I told you I would. You said I wouldn't, but I knew I'd never let you be alone. I love you, Blaine. More than anyone or anything and certainly more than a crappy role in a really shit musical," he smiles and kisses his cheek. "So I'm here."

"You quit?"

"I quit. I had five performances left. We arrived in Tulsa yesterday and I just thought what is the point in all this? This isn't where I want to be, these people aren't who I want to be with. I haven't slept properly in days, knowing you were potentialy going to have to face this without me. And I knew, in that moment, that I had to get to you. So here I am."

"But...all that work...for nothing..."

"Not for nothing exactly," Kurt corrects. "I'll get paid two thirds of my fee, plus it's taught me a rather invaluable lesson, which is that I am never taking a role in a touring production run by a menopausal woman again."

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever let anyone look down on you, or make you feel inadequate because of your age, okay? Because I am telling you, you are my rock, my shelter from the storm and my safe haven. I love you for this. I love you for many things, of course, but I love you more than ever for this."

"Let's get you upstairs," Kurt says quietly, blinking back tears of happiness at Blaine's words.

"I can't... I don't think. I can't see properly. Ken has my bag...could you go ask him for my glasses?"

"That's just cruel," Kurt smiles. "You'll be naked before we hit the elevators."

Blaine laughs, suddenly feeling so much better. "Please. I promise to be on my feet by the time you get back."

Kurt obliges, retuning to find Blaine upright but clutching onto a row of sinks. Slinging his arm around his shoulders, he encourages Blaine to lean heavily on him while they walk to the elevator, Ken following with the bags. Once they're in the room Blaine falls heavily on the bed, assuring Ken that he's fine, but a couple of minutes later Riccardo barges in in his own inimitable style.

"Blaine! Rehearsal in the ballroom. Thirty minutes. You miss it."

"Huh? I didn't miss it. It hasn't happened," he says in confusion.

"No. You... Kurt, how you say it?" Ricardo asks exasperatedly.

"Fool," Kurt offers.

"Fool," Riccardo says happily. "You fool, miss rehearsal. Stay here and sleep. Not sexy sleep," he laughs, slapping Kurt on the back as he heads toward the door. "Sleep, sleep. You good enough anyway. I see you for dinner. And you, Kurt."

"C'mere," Blaine calls to Kurt the second the door is closed.

Kurt walks toward the bed, a smile playing on his face as he looks down at his husband. "He was right," he tells him as he curls up next to him. "You need to sleep. I love you, but you look terrible."

"Thank you."

"I mean it Blaine. You need to rest. When was the last time you slept properly?"

"Our last night together in Chicago probably," Blaine muses. "I've been too worried about you ever since."

"Why? We've spoken daily."

"I know. But you've been so down about it all, and I was really hoping this would be a magical summer for you."

"Well the wedding was pretty magical, and the honeymoon was all kids of spectacular," he jokes lightly. "Blaine...it may not have been perfect, in fact it pretty much sucked ass the entire time. But this is my career now, and it's a learning curve. In time I'll learn what kind of job to accept and when to walk away. Now please, rest. I intend to have my fill of you tonight after dinner, and that can only happen if you're not tired out."

Blaine chuckles as he rolls onto his front. "Is that a threat or a promise, husband of mine?"

"Both."

The three days they have in New York move quickly. When Blaine is in rehearsal Kurt spends time with Rachel and she proudly shows him around the theatre she is working in, and her large dressing room filled to the brim with fresh flowers. He and Blaine attend her matinee, and although Kurt is jealous, he has to admit she dazzles as Maria, and he can see how much she is loving the role from the way her face shines and her eyes sparkle. But nothing makes Kurt prouder than watching Blaine perform. He pours his heart and soul into every piece. Every note played holds meaning and passion, and Kurt is once again moved to tears. He notices others comment too, and can hear his husband being congratulated over and over again as he stands by his side and sips his cocktail quietly, smiling and nodding in all the right places.

"Home tomorrow," he says quietly to Blaine when they find themselves a second alone during the farewell party.

"I cannot wait."

"Same. I vote we lock that door and don't emerge again until we leave for Ohio."

"Would that involve large amounts of nakedness?" Blaine asks with a cheeky grin.

"Of course. In fact, we could start with that right now."

"Oh. I can't." Blaine's face is apologetic when he sees Kurt's smile falter. "I'm sorry. Riccardo wanted to talk with me about something, and I need to introduce myself to the conductor of the New York Philharmomic."

"Okay," Kurt nods, not liking, but understanding. "Sure. You do all that and I'll go talk with Gill for a while."

Blaine touches his arm gently. "Sure?"

"I'm sure." He forces a bright smile. "The night is young, yes?"

"Yes but..."

"But if it happens again it doesn't matter," Kurt whispers into Blaine's ear. "I told you that yesterday and the day before. I understand, and I am more than content to just hold each other Blaine. Really."

He loses sight of Blaine, opting to sit in the large armchairs with Gill where they discuss anything and everything except her children, and Kurt as always is grateful for her tact. Conversation turns to fashion, as it invariably does with the pair of them, and Gill asks if he knows a good dressmaker.

"I need another ball gown made," she explains. "It's hard to buy one off the rack because I'm so short. When we were in London a few years back I was rather extravagant and had five made. The trouble is, with this darn orchestra there's so many events that call for evening dress...and I can't keep repeating outfits."

"I could make you some dresses, if you'd like?" Kurt offers. "I mean, I like doing it, and I made all the wedding outfits without too much trouble."

"Oh no, I couldn't ask you to do that, you're far too busy."

"Trust me Gill, I'm really not. Honestly, I don't mind. Call me when we're back from Ohio," he says. "We can arrange a time for you to come over and discuss designs."

"You're a sweetheart," she smiles brightly. "Ken and I always say how wonderful you and Blaine are. We feel so lucky to have met you."

"Aw thank you," he blushes. "Talking of Blaine...I think he's all but disappeared."

"No, here he comes," Gill says as she spots Blaine striding purposefully toward them. "And he looks very happy about something."

"Good evening Gill," he says politely, and Kurt realizes what she means. Blaine is positively beaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet as his eyes dance with happiness. "Would you mind if I borrowed Kurt for a moment?"

"Not at all," she laughs, standing and patting his arm. "I should go and find my own husband actually."

"Take a seat," Kurt gestures, but Blaine shakes his head.

"Not here." He pulls Kurt from the room, keeping silent until they're back in their bedroom where he takes a second to rub over his face, turning to Kurt with a grin. "What I'm about to tell you can go no further until it's formally announced, okay?"

"Are you pregnant?"

"Well of course," Blaine jokes right back. "But also... Leona is leaving."

"And you're happy about that?" Kurt asks. "I quite liked her."

Blaine laughs loudly, kissing his lips and sliding his arms around his slim waist. "You are the worlds worst listener. I'm sad she's leaving, she's a really nice woman. But she's moving to the east coast. Anyway...what it does mean, is there is an opening for first violinist...and therefore orchestra leader."

"Oh shit, not another audition."

"No!" Blaine laughs, gripping Kurt excitedly. "They're going to hold auditions for second violin instead, because they want me to take her role."

"Her...you mean...orchestra leader...first violin..."

"Yes!"

"Holy shit!"

"I know!" Blaine shouts, unable to hold it in any longer as he jumps on the spot excitedly "and that's not all...and this is huge...like really huge... Our holiday concert this year is Handel's Messiah with Chicago Chamber Choir. Riccardo wants me to play the organ."

"Can you play the organ?" Kurt asks quickly.

"Of course!"

"Then oh my god this is amazing!" Kurt cries, laughing as Blaine picks him up and swings him around. "I'm so getting laid tonight!"

"You completely are!" Blaine laughs before kissing him fiercely and falling onto the bed, tugging Kurt on top of him. "Right now, in fact."

"Uh-uh...not yet!" he laughs, leaning down to kiss at his lips. "We are calling for champagne and celebrating properly. Oh Blaine!" he squeals, clapping his hands excitedly. "I am so proud of you! So ridiculously, insanely proud! 'What does your husband do for a living?'" he prattles as he climbs off the bed and grabs the room service list. "'Oh not a lot...y'know...he's just the leader of the Chicago Symphony orchestra and plays Handel on the organ...that's about it really."

"You haven't even had champagne yet and you're already giddy," Blaine laughs.

"Yes, because my husband is the most majestic, the most talented, the most splendidly awe inspiring and the most sublime musician there ever was."

"And my husband is the worlds most fabulous actor," Blaine tells him as Kurt scoffs. "It's true. I think we make quite a wonderful pair."

"Now that I can agree with."

By the time two champagne bottles lie empty, both Kurt and Blaine are sprawled on the bed in just their underpants, their game of strip poker abandoned as they laugh hysterically at something- though they cannot remember what.

"My tummy hurts from laughing," Kurt says with a hiccup.

"Same," Blaine tells him before bursting into helpless giggles again. "An when I close my eyes like this the whole room keeps spinning."

Their laughter subsides to become contented sighs until Kurt reaches across and taps Blaine on the shoulder. "Kiss me. It's been too long since you kissed me and now I'm offensive."

"Offended?" Blaine offers.

"That's the one."

"'Kay, one kiss coming right up." He rolls over in search of Kurt's lips but rolls the wrong way and hits the floor with a thump. "Ouch."

"What the hell?" Kurt laughs, scooting over to look down at him.

"I missed."

"I noticed." Leaning down, his kisses his tummy before giving up and falling to the floor altogether, nuzzling over him and kissing up his chest.

"S'nice," Blaine murmurs, resting his arms behind his head and closing his eyes contentedly. "More please."

"Can I blow you?" Kurt asks hopefully, running his tongue over a nipple for good measure.

"Uh-uh. My dick doesn't work in New York."

"Yes it does," Kurt argues back. "It's just you who thinks it doesn't work, that's all. It's worked plenty of times before." Sliding lower, he nuzzles his face into Blaine's groin, noticing that he is half hard already. "And anyway, even if it doesn't, or you don't want me to do that...whatever...I like this," he says, working his mouth over the outline of his cock, teasing his fingers along the waistband of his briefs. "I like breathing you in."

"Gross."

"Not gross," Kurt murmurs with a light tap to his thigh. "You're you. The one I want to be with, the one I'm meant to be with. You taste and smell delicious and yummy and...perfect."

"You always taste good," Blaine says, voice hitching when Kurt runs a hand over his now erect penis. "I like tasting you...Kurt..." A small whine of desperation finds it's way into his voice and he lifts his hips eagerly for Kurt to slide his underwear down his legs.

Kurt stops, mouth right by Blaine's balls as he looks up, all wide blue eyes and rosy pink lips. "Yes Blaine?"

"Fuck," Blaine breathes, looking down at him and trailing a finger along his jaw. "Sixty nine with me."

"Anything you want," he says with a sly grin. He sheds his underwear quickly, turning around and shifting himself into position. "You okay down there?"

"Your cock is beautiful," Blaine says in awe as it nudges his chin. "I want it."

Kurt says nothing, only reaches to the nightstand and takes a large swig of champagne before engulfing Blaine, who throws his head back for a moment to cry out. "Jesus fuck! Oh shit that's good!"

Kurt is not perfect, the majority of the champagne dribbles down Blaine's cock, but he pulls back and swallows before licking him clean, moaning in pleasure when Blaine takes him deep in his mouth. They manage to work into some kind of rhythm, which in their drunken state works perfectly for them, and Kurt fondles at Blaine's balls, feeling them tighten under his touch. When he feels Blaine's thumb running over his hole, the pressure firm and insistent, he knows he is pretty much done for, and takes Blaine as deep in his throat as he can in an attempt to stave off his impending pleasure for as long as possible. But the second he feels Blaine spurt into his mouth he comes instantly, long hot and hard, swallowing around his husband before pulling off with a gasp, digging his fingers into his thighs as Blaine sucks him dry. Rolling on his back to the floor, he pushes his feet teasingly into Blaine's face, who laughs and squirms under his toes. "One dick returned to full working order," he sighs happily as Blaine chuckles louder.

"One drunken husband who needs to drink some water then curl up in my arms."

"Two drunken husbands," Kurt corrects, staggering to his feet and rummaging in the mini fridge for water. "Giddy at being together again. Talking of which... When?"

"When what?"

"Are you off again?"

"Ah..." Blaine sobers somewhat when the topic he's been trying to avoid is finally raised.

Kurt hands him the water, eyes darkening as he sits on the floor next to him. "Come on. Out with it."

"There's no holiday tour this year," he begins. "But there is one at the start of the New Year."

"Great," Kurt mutters angrily. "Where?"

"Europe. It's a month."

"A month!" Kurt shrieks, the alcohol making him loud and shrill. "A whole month? Wonderful. So I'll just sit at home waiting for the phone to ring while you flounce around Europe being the apple of everyone's eye, lording it up at cocktail receptions, fancy dinner parties and meeting mayors, politicians...probably even royalty. I can't wait."

"I was going to ask you to come with me," Blaine says quietly, Kurt's hurtful words sobering him up. "You always said you wanted for us to travel together and this seemed like the perfect opportunity." He shakes his head and stands, collecting their champagne bottles and placing them neatly by the door before climbing into bed, turning out the main lights and leaving just the small lamp on Kurt's side of the bed. "If you feel that way about it all though, just forget it."

"Blaine, I..."

"Just forget it Kurt."

But neither can, and they lie in uncomfortable silence for over an hour, listening to the muted rush of the New York traffic down below, their bodies stiff and uncompromising as their stubbornness refuses them permission to melt into each other's arms. Kurt knows it has to be him to make the first move, but he takes his time, figuring everything in his own head first, silently congratulating himself on his rationality and not pushing headlong into an argument. Eventually he reaches a tentative hand out in the dark, finding Blaine's forearm where he touches lightly.

"I'm sorry."

There is no verbal response, just a short nod, but it's a slight invitation to continue and Kurt seizes on it right away, turning on his side to talk to Blaine's profile. "I said some hurtful things and I apologize," he continues, "I didn't mean them. I'm feeling bitter at my own lack of success and jealous of yours. I'm not even going to try and hide it. But I do love you, and I am so incredibly proud of you. It's foolish of me to be jealous, I know. And the worst part of it all is that I only feel jealous up to a point. Because actually, I enjoy sharing in the success with you. I love the fancy hotels and the money certainly, but the best part for me is listening to people talk when they're leaving the concert halls, or reading the reviews in the press. I swell with pride. That's my husband, that's my man. It just... It just feels like everyone around me is doing well, being successful. You, Joe, Rachel...and you know it's only a matter of time before Santana gets noticed. But that's my problem to deal with, and I should never have taken it out on you. I'm really sorry."

"You shouldn't have taken it out on me, no..." Blaine begins slowly. "But I do understand. Please try and remember though, that this hasn't come overnight for me, it's taken years of hard work and dedication."

Kurt sighs heavily. "I know."

"But I'm your husband, Kurt. And I want to be there for you. Hell, you've been there for me more times than I care to count- and these last three days are the best example I can think of. Let me help you through this, let me support you. Talk with me, tell me your feelings. Don't snap them at me in anger because we neither of us are in the right mind to deal with them then."

"You're right," Kurt agrees, reaching out to run his fingers along his jaw. "Of course. And I'll try to do just that."

"Then I accept your apology and demand that you now sleep in my arms as I requested just a few hours ago," Blaine smiles, pulling Kurt close and kissing his lips. "I love you endlessly, just remember that."

"Always," Kurt replies, snuggling in and twirling a stray curl idly around his finger. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I come to Europe with you?"

"I can't think of anything better."