Fair warning: This is angsty. Some of you might prefer to pick it up when chapter 18 is posted. The angst is NOT between Kurt and Blaine.
If anyone needs me, I'll be in my bunker ;)
For two weeks, life is utterly sublime. Kurt and Blaine both leave the apartment only when entirely necessary, and together, if at all possible, but then they dash back to its sanctity once more, and most importantly, to each other's arms.
"We should go out," Blaine muses, late one night. They lie on the couch, under a blanket, and Kurt lies mostly on top of Blaine's naked body, loving the feel of his hands smoothing down over the top of his butt, before moving back up, then somehow finding their way back down there again.
"Now? It's nearly midnight. Plus, I'm still full of your come."
Blaine laughs and kisses just above Kurt's temple. "Not now," he reassures. "Just...you know, tomorrow maybe. A date. I haven't taken you out since you arrived home."
"I haven't wanted to go out," Kurt points out. "Just in. You. A lot."
"Which is always entirely welcome, but real life must hit eventually, and I've got finals coming up, you want to push for this promotion..."
"Your finals are the first week in May."
"I know."
"It's March seventh."
"Exactly. And I'm just pointing out that things will get busy for us. I mean, I love this," he says, with a light squeeze to Kurt's butt, "but I also love our dates, and I don't want to end up trying to squeeze a really stressful and quick date in somewhere, when I've got the opportunity to take you out now. So tomorrow?"
"I'd like that," Kurt smiles, kissing his chest, and he really would. He loves that Blaine wants, and still feels the need, to take him out on dates. He will never tell him where they're going either, except maybe to say if they'll be eating or to dress up or not, but mostly he just tells him he'll pick him up at a set time, which means he will be ready first and pacing restlessly around the living room, until Kurt opens the bedroom door, then Blaine will kiss him politely on the cheek and escort him out the door.
They flirt outrageously on their dates too, no matter who's done the organizing. It's as if being out in public like that takes them back to those first few months of hedonistic discovery, the knowledge that at the end of the night, there would be kisses and whispered declarations, only this time it's without all the angst, mind games, and torment that both were going through at that time, and that makes it all so much better.
"I'll pick you up at six."
"I can do that," Kurt grins, and he knows this will mean dinner and a show somewhere, though with Blaine, this could mean the full on glitz and glamour of Broadway, or a small community theatre production of Macbeth out in Brooklyn. Either way, Kurt knows he will love every second.
It turns out to be an early dinner at a small little French bistro in Greenwich that they haven't visited before, and then Blaine walks Kurt three blocks over to watch Casablanca at an old fifties revival theatre. Blaine looks rather like a young Humphrey Bogart himself, actually, Kurt thinks, as he escorts him to his seat, and as the film starts, and the gray light flickers onto his beautiful, strong profile, Kurt sorely regrets not having brought the engagement ring with him. It's been burning a hole in his sock drawer since he returned from London, as he waited for that all important perfect moment, and he realizes tonight could have been it.
Well, maybe tomorrow can be it instead, he reasons as they watch the film together. Or the next night, maybe? A million and one plans formulate in Kurt's head during the course of the film, and he discards all of them, until it suddenly hits him. Last night, Blaine had happened to mention that he had still never been to Coney Island. Well, today was Wednesday. That would give Kurt two days to organise everything he needed to surprise his boy on Saturday with a trip out there, ending with a romantic proposal. Yes. That was what he was going to do.
"Saturday," he blurts loudly, the second the credits roll, and Blaine turns to look at him in surprise.
"Huh?"
"Saturday. You have a date," he orders. "Don't make any other plans."
"Oh." Blaine grins, then stands and holds Kurt's jacket out for him to slide into. "Okay."
"I'll pick you up at nine," he declares, then suddenly feels as if he might burst into inexplicable tears right there and then, so he pushes his way out of the theatre and onto the street, where he takes in great lungfuls of air.
"At night?" Blaine calls, as he catches up to him.
"In the morning."
"But it's..." he makes to whine a little, that it's Saturday and they usually cook a lazy breakfast together, before going back to bed for a couple of hours, but then he notices that Kurt is pale, clammy, and breathing funny. "Hey, you okay? You look sick. Are you sick? We should..."
"No, no, I'm fine," Kurt says, shaking his head to clear it a little. "Really. C'mon. Let's go home."
They walk along in silence for a little while, and though Kurt's arm is linked companionably through Blaine's, he still can't help but feel like something is amiss. "Did I...was that date not...not any good?"
"What?" Kurt frowns, and carries on walking. "Don't be dumb. It was lovely."
"Then why are you being...?"
"I'm not being anything," Kurt snaps. "Now are we walking the whole way, or getting a cab or what?"
"Um, well, we can walk, it's not too far, but..."
"Right."
"Kurt..."
"Shut up, Blaine."
Hurt, Blaine drops his arm and walks on alone, not really in the mood for caring if Kurt is following. He tries to replay events to see what went wrong, and where, but all he can come up with is that Kurt had bizarrely, and very loudly, asked him out at the end of the film, then turned tail and fled, and he can't for the life of him figure out why.
Stubborn, hopelessly unable to deal with heightened emotion, and always one to use anger to express any meaning he can, Kurt's mood actually only lasts a block before he grabs Blaine by the wrist and pulls him to a stop. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I got overwhelmed and...well, I shouldn't have been mean to you, and I'm sorry, so there's that. I'm sorry. It's just..." he pauses, and rakes a hand through his immaculate hair, so Blaine knows how difficult he's finding all of this to say.
"The depth of my love for you scares me. Not just how I feel now, but how I will keep on feeling, keep on falling. I just fall heavier and harder for you every single day, and I don't know why it scares me, because it shouldn't, because you're you, and you've got me, and I'm safe. You're all I've ever wanted, and I don't want anyone else, and yet...it still terrifies me. It scares me that so much of me is wrapped up in so much of you. Not just our physical, actual life together, but all of it, body, heart, soul...that's so stupid, right? That it should scare me?"
Blaine gives a little shrug, his hands coming to rest on Kurt's waist. "That depends. If it scares you and means you want to run from it all, then yeah, that's pretty dumb, to want to let it all go."
"No!" Kurt cries desperately. "It's the opposite, Blaine, totally the opposite. I don't want to run from it, I want to keep it, and hold onto it for the rest of my life, and that's what scares me!"
"Well then, I'd say that's perfectly natural," Blaine laughs. "Sometimes, I walk along the street, and then I stop and think, 'holy crap, look at me. I'm twenty years old and settled down with the love of my life' and then I get home, and there you are, and I think I couldn't love you more if I tried...only then I wake up in the morning, and you're taking up the entire bed, looking like a drooling starfish with crazy bed hair, and I think, actually? I love you even more, if that were possible. And that just keeps happening, over and over."
"You keep falling in love with me?" Kurt whispers, completely in awe.
"No, you keep taking up the whole bed," Blaine teases, then turns serious once more. "Yes, I keep falling more in love with you. Every second of every day, and I will never stop. And I think it's probably...I don't know, a good thing, maybe? That we're both a little scared by it all, because I think it makes it real, and I think it just proves how precious this is to both of us."
"You're pretty remarkable, you know that?" Kurt asks, his fingers tangling in Blaine's hair.
"Well, I think we're pretty remarkable together, actually," Blaine smiles, kissing the tip of Kurt's nose. "But if you'd like to take me home and demonstrate..."
"That's exactly what I was planning," Kurt laughs, then leans in close and kisses his lips tenderly. "I love you, puppy. Please let me take you out on a special date on Saturday, and I'm sorry for asking the way I did before."
"I love you too, tiger, and I accept your apology. I'll be ready and waiting at nine in the morning on Saturday," Blaine whispers, then takes Kurt's hand in his and leads his date home.
"Fucking, fucking, fuck!" Kurt yells the next day, storming home from work and kicking the apartment door closed behind him.
"And a very good evening to you too, Kurt," Blaine calls from the kitchen, rolling his eyes affectionately. Sure enough, after a lot of door banging and muttered cursing, Kurt appears, grateful beyond belief to see an open beer ready and waiting for him on the counter, and dinner nearly done.
"I hate life, I hate my job, I hate everything and I'm not any good at anything," Kurt moans, and Blaine folds him into his arms without another word, kissing into his hair.
"You're pretty good at being my boyfriend."
"No I'm not, I treat you like shit most of the time."
"You do not!" Blaine laughs. "I'm not totally spineless, I wouldn't still be here if you did. Now what's wrong?"
"Ugh." Breaking away from Blaine, he sits at the kitchen table, and yet again he can feel tears pricking at his eyes, as they have been for the whole journey home. He grinds his fists into his eyes, takes a gulp of his beer, and sets it down, fiddling with the label. "So London went well, and you know I love working in runway."
"Yeah."
"Well they want me to give this presentation about it on Monday."
"Okay."
"No! Not okay!" Kurt cries. "For a start, I don't do presentations, things like that put the fear of God into me. Second, it's has to be my five picks from fashion week, anything I like, but they want what Kate described as, the 'unique Kurt Hummel perspective', not the stuff all the blogs and other magazines are talking about already. They want the stuff that might have escaped unnoticed, the embellishments on a blouse that could be big for the next spring lines, the one pair of shoes that nobody picked up on, the...oh fuck, I don't even know what else. I have to pick these five things, and if they like it, the stuff I come up with, then I'm going to be promoted to senior runway writer."
"What?" Blaine yells. "You only moved to runway two months ago! Kurt! That is amazing!"
"Apparently I have something, though fuck knows what anyone sees in me..."
"Get up," Blaine demands, and he pulls Kurt from his chair and lifts him up in the air, kissing him firmly, before setting him onto the counter. "I love you so much, you silly man. Don't come home stressing about a presentation, come home elated because they want to give you this chance!"
"But it's so much work, Blaine!"
"And we'll nail it," Blaine says firmly. "We can take a rain check on Saturday, and..."
"Oh no," Kurt barks, hopping down from the counter and giving him a firm shove in the chest. "I don't care if you lose both legs in a freak skiing accident, or if I get flattened by a bus, our date on Saturday is happening. End of story."
"Okay!" Blaine laughs, holding his hands up. "So then tonight we'll plan an outline. Go through all the pictures you took to see if you've overlooked anything, decide what five things you're going to present on. I'm home all day tomorrow, so I can get all my studying done then, which leaves me all of Friday night and all day Sunday to help you. I'll do whatever you want me to."
"Will you make my presentation look all pretty, and the photos all fit nice?" Kurt pouts.
"Of course I will."
"Will you make me tea and coffee, and just roll your eyes when I yell at you?"
"Naturally."
"And will you walk me to work on Monday morning?"
"Just try and stop me," Blaine whispers, kissing behind Kurt's ear. "And Monday night? We'll be going out to that Mexican place you like, to drink copious amounts of Sangria and eat fajitas."
Kurt falls into his embrace, gladly accepting the strong, supporting hug. "Thank you," he whispers over his shoulder. "See? This is why I love you so much."
Kurt certainly goes to work feeling brighter on Friday morning. For a start, despite not getting to bed until three, he had, with Blaine's help, decided on his five fashion week picks to present on. His nerves were also eased somewhat over his imminent proposal the next day; the pressures of a major work promotion would do that, he guesses. He resolves to spend as little time as possible doing his actual work today, and as much time as he can daydreaming about proposing to Blaine tomorrow, and the look on his face when he does so.
It is just after lunch, when Kate walks by his desk and calls over her shoulder. "Did you get anywhere with that presentation last night?"
"Oh, um, yes," he calls nervously, rapidly coming back into the room, and leaving all dreams of kneeling on the cold sand and looking into Blaine's eyes behind. "I uh, got my choices figured out. I think you'll like them."
"Good," she smiles. "Bring them to me this afternoon, I have a spare twenty minutes at three. I'll take a look and give you any feedback I can. I need you to nail this one, kid."
Kurt smiles brightly, knowing she is only being kind in her offer of assistance, but the second her office door is closed, he holds his head in his hands. "Fuuuuuck."
"What's up?" Fran, his colleague, asks from next to him. "She wants you to have this job, Kurt, we all do."
"I know, and that's sweet, but I didn't bring my memory stick with me, or my laptop, I just...I was so tired, and I didn't think I'd need it today, so... ugh, so now I'm gonna have to go home and get them."
"Oh honey. Does Blaine have class? Could you ask him to bring them in?"
"Oh!" Kurt suddenly remembers. "No he doesn't! He's home all day. He could bring them in, yes. Thank you Fran, you're a star!" and picking up the phone, he dials.
Blaine always likes to study, he genuinely enjoys it, but he's struggling today, due to lack of sleep last night. By lunchtime, he needs some air and a change of scenery, so he takes a walk to the bakery at the end of the block, and wanders slowly back through the small park opposite his building.
Refreshed, he manages to get another hour of studying done, before the apartment intercom makes him jump with its loud buzz. "Hello?"
"Uh...delivery for Blaine Anderson?" a muffled voice asks, and Blaine beams.
"Sure, come on up."
He's suddenly stupidly excited for the delivery, because he guesses it will be flowers from Kurt, and that doesn't happen often. That's not to say Kurt isn't romantic, but it's usually Blaine who brings flowers, or buys little gifts, whereas Kurt is more stealthy, hiding notes in his textbooks for him to find in class, writing messages on the steamy mirror, or sending him explicit photos, which shocked Blaine at first, but now just give him an intense thrill. So when the knock comes at the apartment door, he pulls it open expecting to see a florist, but what he actually gets, is Spencer, the guy he has managed to avoid for the past two years, and his son Simon, looming large behind him.
"What the...?" Blaine starts, but then Spencer's hand is at his throat, driving him all the way back into the apartment, and slamming him into the living room wall, while Simon kicks the door closed behind them.
Blaine is trapped, alone with his tormentors, with no way of getting any help.
"Where is she?" Spencer growls in his face, but Blaine can't answer, the grip Spencer has on his throat is too tight, and all he can do is try to gasp for breath. "I said where the fuck is she, you snivelling little shit!"
More gasping, as Blaine just about manages to balance on his toes, his eyes bulging in fear. It's too much, happening too fast, and he can't reconcile the fact that Simon is now tearing through his home, trashing it, while Spencer slams him hard into the wall. "Speak to me you fucking faggot! Where is she, huh? You thought you could win her over? You think it's fun to tell her to leave home? This your idea of revenge?"
"I..." Blaine gasps, reaching up and pulling at his fingers to try and get some more air. "I don't know...what...you..."
"Oh you know," Spencer snarls, and his fist connects squarely with Blaine's cheekbone. From the ear splitting crack and sharp burst of pain, Blaine screams, his legs buckling beneath him, as it becomes all about protecting himself as best he can. All he can think, as another blow is landed to his stomach, is of Kurt. His beautiful Kurt, who will come home hours later to find him like this.
"You fucking know!" Spencer is screaming, as Blaine curls on the floor and tries to get out of harms way, but there is no escape. After all this time, Spencer has the opportunity he has been waiting for, and all the years of bitterness and anger he has built towards Blaine, is now flying forth in a tirade of abuse, punches and kicks.
"She's not here," Simon suddenly declares, and Spencer pauses, his hand fisting the back of Blaine's sweater, the other fist poised to punch at his head.
"What?"
"She's not here," Simon shrugs. "I've been through the whole place, but there's no way she's here."
"So where is she then?" Spencer asks Blaine, who is now sobbing uncontrollably.
"I don't know! I don't know, I swear! Just leave me alone, please! Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, please don't..."
"Look at you," Spencer sneers. "Begging. Is that what you do, huh? Is that how you beg him for his dick in your ass?"
"Please, please," Simon mocks in a high pitched voice. "Oh please give it to me, because I'm not man enough to give it to anyone else."
Blaine doesn't care that he looks or sounds pathetic, he doesn't care that he is openly crying, or that he feels sixteen again, he only cares that they go, that they leave him alone. "Please," he cries. "Just leave. I'll never tell anyone I swear, I just..."
"And Hummel gives it, of course," Spencer laughs, as he towers over him. "Because he's too much of a fag to ever be able to stick it to a woman."
"Don't talk about him like that!" Blaine screams, suddenly losing it. He'll take it all, whatever they want to dish out, but he won't take their lewd insults about Kurt.
"Oh?"
"Kurt is more of a man than you two will ever be!" Blaine yells, staggering to his feet and wiping blood from his mouth. "He loves, he cares, and he's not afraid to let anyone see it. He doesn't need to kick the shit out of people just to try and prove his worth. Look at you!" he cries, gesturing around the shattered apartment. "This is all you've got! You turn up here, trashing my stuff, hitting me, all because you want to find mom. Why? Because she's finally gotten some sense? Well good! You don't like it? You think this threatens your masculinity? And Kurt and I, living quietly here in New York, somehow makes you feel like less of a man? Who's the dick with the issues, Spencer? Cause it's sure as hell not any of us."
Blaine draws up short, as he suddenly realizes what he's done. Spencer is red with anger, and Simon is the same. The first punch comes, followed by the second and the third, and then so many that Blaine loses count, falling to the floor, for Simon's foot to kick hard into his shoulder, making him scream in untold agony.
"You had better have a damn good reason for not answering my calls," Kurt mutters angrily, as he runs up the stairs to his apartment. He is more than a little annoyed, having gotten no answer from Blaine at all, even on the cab ride over, so he had to let the cab go, and come inside to grab his laptop himself. He knows Blaine is entitled to a life, but equally, he knows he's about to unleash the full force of his fury upon him, just for not picking up his phone.
Only, when he throws open the apartment door in a towering rage, Kurt stops dead. He is just in time to see Simon kick Blaine hard in the groin, and stamp down too, making Blaine scream louder and higher than Kurt would have ever thought possible. There is a split second, where time seems to freeze, as Kurt realizes exactly who these two people are, and that Blaine is lying badly beaten at their feet, and then his anger takes hold.
Spurred on by a fury he never in his wildest dreams imagined he could posses, Kurt gives a roar of anger as he launches himself at Simon first, punching, biting, hitting, kicking any part of him he can reach, before he feels Spencer starting to land blows to his back and shoulders.
Whirling around, as quick as a flash, Kurt fists the front of a clearly startled Spencer's shirt. "You bastard" is all he hisses, quietly, venomously, before he lands his first punch, which cracks across Spencer's jaw and causes him to cry out. "I'm gonna fucking kill you," Kurt suddenly roars. "I swear. For all you've done to him, I'm gonna kill you," and his second punch lands even harder.
Kurt has never broken someone's nose before, but he knows he's done it big time from the enormous crack and massive spray of blood that splatters across the living room wall. It is at this point that Brian, on his way down the stairs, sees the apartment door wide open, and decides to take a look in.
Carnage greets him; Blaine curled more or less comatose on the floor of a trashed apartment as a wild, possessed Kurt takes on two grown men with ease. He doesn't stop hitting, every ounce of anger and hatred that has built over the years toward these men comes forth, as Brian rushes in.
"Kurt! Woah! Kurt, Kurt!" Catching him around the waist, Brian hauls him away, just enough for Spencer and Simon to run, and they do, tearing out of the apartment, while Brian holds a flailing Kurt tightly in his arms. "Kurt! Come on. Stop. Stop. You nearly killed them. What's going on? Were you robbed? I'm calling the cops. I'm..."
"My Blaine," Kurt says suddenly, falling to the floor and cradling Blaine's head in his hands. "Oh Blaine, my darling, Blaine..."
"Blaine? Blaine? Can you hear us?" Brian asks, and Blaine squints up through his rapidly swelling eye.
"S'okay. I'm okay."
"Blaine, did they break in? I need to call the cops and get you to a hospital," Brian is saying, but Kurt is by his side, tenderly brushing his hair off his forehead, as his tears splash down onto his cheeks.
"No, no, they were...that's Blaine's..." Kurt chokes off, unable and unwilling to say the word stepfather, when he's never been anything remotely like that at all. "It's the guy Angie is married to, and his son," Kurt finishes quietly.
"Um...okay. Oh...crap. This is bad. This is really bad. Okay, we need to...look, Kurt? We need to get Blaine to a hospital. Do you think you can get him downstairs? I'll go get my car and meet you out front."
Kurt nods, looking down at Blaine, who seems to be drifting in and out. "But Loic..."
"Really Kurt? Really? You think he'll even notice if I don't show?" Brian snaps, but he places a firm, reassuring hand on Kurt's shoulder, before getting to his feet. "Meet me out front. Move him carefully."
In a complete daze, Kurt acts on autopilot as soon as Brian is gone, grabbing his bag and keys, and pulling Blaine's old running shoes onto his feet. "Blaine? Sweetie? We need to get you to the hospital. You're uh...you're in need of a few bandaids there." He tries for joking, but it comes out as a muffled sob when he sees Blaine try to smile. "You'll be okay," he says, trying to convince himself. "You'll be just fine. Can you uh...can we just...?"
Gently and tenderly, Kurt gets Blaine to his feet, though he is still doubled over with stabbing pain in his groin, and his shoulder feels excruciating. "My...you know...he...he hurt me," Blaine whispers sadly. "They got me, Kurt, they got me."
"I know," Kurt whispers, trying to hide his tears, as he helps his boyfriend stagger toward the door. "I know. But they can't get you now, Blaine. I'm here. I'll always be here. I love you, okay? Now let's get you fixed."
Kurt sits down heavily on the shiny plastic chair, and he finds himself grateful yet again for Brian, who puts an arm around his shoulders and hands him a bottle of water.
"The doctor still with him?"
"Yeah," Kurt sighs. "Just gotta wait, I suppose."
"So those guys forced their way in, or what?"
"No, Blaine let them in, thinking it was a delivery. I don't even know how they found him, but they did."
"But why, though? I mean, are they seeking revenge on him, or what? What will his mom say?"
"Ha." Kurt's short, sharp laugh, is full of bitterness and pain, as he thinks back to all that time Blaine spent living with them, putting up with endless bullying and taunts, while Angie turned a blind eye. "Well, she'll probably tell him boys will be boys, but we'll see what the cops think about that."
"You're going to call them?"
"Of course I am!" Kurt exclaims in surprise. "Did you not see the state of Blaine when we arrived here? They launched a planned attack on him, and those bastards will pay for it, I'll see to it."
"I get all that," Brian says quietly, trying to soothe this angry young man beside him. "But I also get that their blood is splattered all over your living room wall, and when they do catch up to them, one of them will have a broken nose at least, if not a broken jaw as well, and the other will be badly beaten and bruised. From what you've told me about them already, Kurt, it sounds as though you might be better to just put all this to bed and concentrate on helping Blaine to heal."
Kurt thinks. If Spencer chooses, he could turn around and bring charges against Kurt. He'll lose his job for sure, and he'll have a record of course, meaning most other jobs of note would be out of his reach too. This would mean a return to his barista days to support them both while Blaine finishes college, and in the future, it will mean his children will have a father with a record for assault and battery.
"I'm not leaving it," he says firmly, ignoring Brian shaking his head in despair. "When I first met Blaine, he was this timid, frightened little sixteen year old. He lived through hell from Spencer and those jerks, and I have tried, over and over, to leave it be. I've welcomed Angie into our home, listened to her talk about them, and I've done my absolute best to bite my tongue, but not anymore. What they did was disgusting, and how do you think I felt, huh? Coming home to find them beating him up like that? No, I'm sorry, but consequences be damned. I'm going to the cops, and I'm not going to rest until they're charged."
"Okay," Brian sighs. "Just...promise me you'll talk this through with Blaine before you call anyone, please?"
"Why?"
"Because he's your partner, and he deserves your respect," Brian says bluntly. "I'm aware I don't know you very well, but you're a hot headed young man, Kurt. Blaine will be deeply emotionally scarred by this, and you will need to respect his wishes and not let anger cloud your judgement. Don't make him feel like you're taking charge and railroading him into things, let him feel as if you reach these decisions together, as a couple, and let him feel as if you're working through this side by side, even if you're leading the way."
"Well whatever, we either go to the cops, or I let my dad handle things, and I'm pretty sure I know which one Blaine would prefer."
"Have you told Burt?"
"No." Kurt sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "I was waiting for the doctors to finish with him but...it's like nearly nine already," he says in awe. "How did that happen? If I call him now he'll rush to the airport in a panic, and arrive here at some ungodly hour."
"So call him tomorrow," Brian says kindly. "First thing. Stay here tonight with Blaine, and then you'll be able to call your dad with a much clearer picture, and he can fly out when he's ready."
"Yeah, I guess," Kurt sighs. He doesn't feel easy about it, his instinct is always to run to his dad, and he knows Blaine will be needing to see him, but Brian is right. The morning would be better than calling now, and either having Burt fly in to New York in the early hours, or spending a sleepless night at home worrying.
A nurse arrives, telling Kurt that Blaine has been moved to a room on the seventh floor, and he can go up when he's ready, and then Brian stands, pulling Kurt into a tight hug. "I'll cry," Kurt whispers into his shoulder.
"Oh stop. I might have thirty years on you, but I'd still like to think we're friends. After all you've been through, a hug is the very least I can offer."
So Kurt hugs back, and lets a few tears escape, but not all of them. If he breaks now, he doesn't think he'll ever get it back together, and he needs to be strong for Blaine. "Thank you for everything," he whispers to Brian. "For bringing us here, for staying with me...just thank you."
"Not at all. Listen, if you want to give me a key, I'll grab you some clothes and things and bring them back. It's no trouble."
Kurt nods, pressing his keys into Brian's hand, before heading upstairs to find his love.
Lying in a hospital bed looking pale and small, Kurt has to try his hardest not to gasp and break down completely when he first sees Blaine. He's cleaned up, obviously, but he has a swollen black eye on his right hand side, and that arm is in a sling resting on his chest too. He's attached to a drip of what Kurt assumes is painkillers, and he looks to be asleep, though when he hears the door, he tries to open his eyes and smile.
"S'all wobbly," he croaks, his voice hoarse as Kurt pulls up a chair. "S'all funny an wobbly."
"Yeah, you're on drugs," Kurt says, managing a small laugh. He leans down and takes Blaine's hand, kissing the back of it and pressing it against his cheek. "I love you, Blaine. I'm so..."
But he is cut off from saying more, by the arrival of a kind looking doctor, who picks up Blaine's chart and reads it, before smiling at Kurt. "Okay, so your man has a broken collarbone," he tells Kurt matter-of-factly. "Which is why it's in the sling. It'll take about six weeks to heal, and it'll be fairly painful for a couple of weeks, but it's still better than a fractured shoulder, which is what we thought he had. What else? Well, bruising, mainly, particularly to his ribs and face, but uh the most...severe bruising, is to his groin."
"He said something about that," Kurt murmurs. "When I arrived, it was just in time to see him getting kicked and stamped there. His uh...stepbrother of sorts, I guess. He's injured him there before."
"One of those jerks who feels threatened because your man here is gay, huh?" the doctor asks, and Kurt nods.
"Yes, well, there's a lot I could say about people like that, but hopefully the cops will do that for me. Anyway, with regard to Blaine...his injury there is quite severe. He will be in a lot of pain for quite a while. I'll be back to talk to both of you about it tomorrow, but for now I think you should try and rest."
"I'm okay to stay?"
"Of course. There's a cot in the corner there, and make sure you use it, and don't just sit here all night. Blaine is quite heavily sedated, so though he might wake and have a little conversation, he won't make much sense. He's probably dreaming of unicorns and pink elephants or something," the doctor says with a laugh. "I'll be back tomorrow."
So Kurt sits, ignoring the doctors advice, and waits for Blaine to wake or stir in any way at all, but he doesn't. Brian arrives with a bag of clothes and toiletries, and Kurt uses the bathroom quickly, changing into yoga pants and a t-shirt of Blaine's, which comforts him somewhat, and then he returns to his hand holding once more, gazing at Blaine's profile as he sleeps. It's the early hours when he cracks one eye open, the other being too swollen, and manages to clearly look over at Kurt.
"Hey tiger."
"Oh! Hey, hey," Kurt smiles. "How are you feeling?"
"Pretty good," Blaine admits. "Can't feel nothing."
"Anything."
"That."
"Well, that's good. The doctor said they're giving you the good stuff right now. Do you uh...do you remember what happened?"
"Spencer."
"Yeah."
"And you were my hero."
"Hardly," Kurt says sadly. "I didn't really manage to do anything."
"You fighted for me. My knight in...in...in a shiny suit thing, with a hat."
"You're funny when you're high," Kurt says, smiling, but then he bows his head and starts to cry.
"Hey..." Blaine reaches out with his left hand, running it into Kurt's hair to soothe him as best he can. "Kurt...don't cry. I'm still here, still love you. Love you more, really, because you saved me. I thought no one would come."
"I'm so sorry," Kurt gasps, wiping at his eyes. "Blaine, I'm so sorry. I let you down so badly, and I..."
"Let me down?" Blaine asks in confusion. "Where? When?"
"I promised you that you would never have to see them again. I told you, after that time we went for dinner, I said you would never have to go through that."
"Kurt...how were you supposed to know that? How...I don't..." Blaine becomes confused, his brain scrambling for the right words. He knows what it is he wants to say, he just doesn't know how to go about saying it. "Get up here. Come on the bed."
"Can I? I don't know which...where to go, I don't..."
"Neither do I," Blaine admits, looking in confusion at his one arm in a sling, and the other attached to the drip. "Just...here. Pull back the covers and get in."
Carefully, Kurt climbs in next to Blaine, curling on his side. Blaine's left arm curls around his shoulders, and Kurt immediately feels better, like he belongs, and like together, they will be okay.
"Gimme kiss," Blaine says quietly, gazing adoringly at Kurt, who gently grazes their lips together. "You did not let me down," Blaine repeats softly, yet firmly. "You could never let me down, except for that time you bought the wrong smoked cheese. I was disappointed then."
"Oh shut up," Kurt says, laughing through his tears. "I hate you."
"I know." Blaine grins smugly, happy to have Kurt looking at least a little happier. "Are you staying here tonight?"
"Well, it's after two in the morning," Kurt says, grazing his fingers lightly over his good cheek. "It'd be kinda rude if you kicked me out now."
"That makes me happy."
"Good. And tomorrow we'll talk to the doctors a bit more, and the cops."
"No we won't."
"Excuse me?"
"Kurt, you broke a man's face. Like, literally broke it. Across our living room wall. Spencer is evil. One look in from the cops, and he'll be filing charges against you. Just leave it."
"But..."
"But nothing. I let a lot of things slide with you, because you're a moody petulant bastard when you want to be, but I won't be swayed on this. We won't be reporting any of this, because there is no way I'm going to watch you get sent down and have a criminal record, just because you defended me."
"But I want to..."
"I will kick you out, Kurt," Blaine says angrily, and Kurt can tell he really means it. "And not just out of here, but out of my life too, if you dare take this any further."
"But what can I do then? I feel helpless and I..."
"Find my mom," Blaine says, suddenly remembering. "That's why they came for me, because they thought mom was with me. She's left him. I forgot that. She's gone, and I don't know where, but they assumed she had come to me."
"This is a huge, fucked up mess," Kurt moans.
"I know. But I need to know she's safe. Please Kurt, promise me that in the morning, you'll try calling her. Don't tell her about this, not yet, anyway, but just tell her you were calling to say hi or something."
Kurt thinks Blaine is a lunatic, if he really believes that Angie won't think it's strange that Kurt is calling her to say hi, but he gives a nod and kisses his cheek, before settling down with his head tentatively resting on Blaine's chest. "This okay?"
"Perfect," Blaine murmurs, already sleepy again. "Just perfect."