Loic does not improve. Unable to go out anymore, Kurt and Blaine take to visiting him once a week at the home instead. It means far more to Brian than it does to Loic, who doesn't know who these boys are week after week.

Blaine has the quietest twenty first birthday Kurt has ever known, but he's insistent that it's all he wants, and so Kurt goes along with his plans, and holds his tongue. Burt flies in for a long weekend, and Angie arrives too, after just a week in California. Blaine is warmed by the reunion between her and Burt, who act as if they've been parted for months, rather than just seven days.

They all go out for dinner, joined by Santana, Brian, Professor Scarbo and his family, and Blaine is happy with that. More than happy in fact, and despite Kurt's best efforts to get him totally drunk, he resists, sticking to two glasses of champagne, which make him light headed enough for his liking.

Both remain busy in their own lives, leaving precious little time for wedding planning, and no time at all for dates together. Blaine misses the times when they would spontaneously go out to the movies, or when Kurt would ask him out on a date, flirting endlessly. Now it's all studying, and tutoring Amy and Ben for him, and work, work, work for Kurt, and with fashion week coming up, it's only going to get worse.

After a long day at school, when every class seemed to either drag on or go right over his head, Blaine is looking forward to getting home and seeing his fiancé. He knows that on Mondays Kurt is usually home before him. He's hopeful that he might be able to convince him to stop work for a while and take a bath with him, and he might suggest they call for pizza rather than cooking.

"Hey beautiful," he calls, as he opens the door. He kicks off his shoes and hangs his coat, then steps into the living room, and stops in shock.

An extremely good looking black man sits on his couch, next to Kurt, and the laptop is positioned across both their laps. The laptop he had bought Kurt with his savings all those years ago.

Realizing this must be Solomon, Blaine swallows and gives a small smile. "Hey. Um...I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Did you pay the florist?" Kurt asks, by way of greeting, and Blaine frowns, trying to remember.

"Uh..."

"Simple question, Blaine, did you pay the florist?"

"Um... hello," he says to Solomon. "I don't think we've met."

"Ugh, fine," Kurt huffs. "Solomon, Blaine, Blaine, Solomon. Did you pay the florist?"

Blaine stands awkwardly in the room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as he tries to think. In all honesty, he can't remember Kurt ever asking him to do that, but he's not about to admit that now. "I think I did, yeah."

"Well you didn't!" Kurt cries. "Because there was a message on the answering machine asking if we still wanted to go ahead with our order! One thing, Blaine! I asked you to do one thing!"

Blaine wants to fight back, to tell Kurt that it's not just one thing, it's a multitude of things, and he just doesn't have time, but he's also been raised not to air dirty laundry in public. He doesn't know the guy sitting on his couch, in his living room, so he just gives a small nod and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

"I'll call them now. Is um... are you okay for drinks? Can I get you anything?"

"Another beer would be great, thanks," Solomon says, raising his empty bottle.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Well actually, this isn't work," Solomon confides with a wink. "Kurt's helping me out with some ideas I had. I want to try and get a feature in the magazine, you know? So your wonderful fiancé offered to help."

"How fantastic of him," Blaine mutters, then fetches two beers and sets them on the coffee table, not at all surprised when only Solomon says thank you.

He shuts himself away in the bedroom and calls the florist, then agonises about what to do. He needs to study, but he's left his books and his laptop in the living room. There is a tv in the bedroom, but he doesn't want to waste the next however long staring at a show he's not really watching, and worrying about what's going on out there.

Steeling himself, he walks as confidently as he can back into the living room, and settles in the armchair, pulling his laptop open. "I've paid it," he says quietly, and Kurt gives a small nod. He puts his earbuds in, opens a book, and rests it next to him, then turns his attentions to the screen. He quickly realizes Kurt is watching him, and he looks up, pulling one earbud out. "Did you say something?"

"I asked what you were doing."

"Oh. Studying. We have this test on Thursday in my Astrophysics elective. It's focusing on inter planetary..."

"Whatever. Do you have to do that here?"

"What?"

"Study. Do you have to study here?"

"Um...well...I usually do."

"But we're trying to work."

"I thought it wasn't work?"

"Blaine."

"Fine. I'll go in the kitchen."

"Oh let him stay," Solomon says to Kurt suddenly. "Come on. He can't help having school work to do. Education is important when you're that age. I'm sure he won't get in our way, will you Blaine?"

"I uh... no," he says quietly, feeling like a kid who's been allowed to stay up past his bedtime, and Kurt gives a sigh.

"Fine."

And Blaine returns to his laptop screen, but little studying gets done. He mulls over Solomon's comment, trying to decide if it was a veiled insult or not, and he watches him out of the corner of his eye.

Blaine isn't dumb. He can see Solomon is smitten with Kurt in a big way. He laughs loudly at anything remotely funny, gives him playful nudges, and, in Blaine's opinion, sits far closer to Kurt than he needs to.

He simmers for a while. He can tell Kurt is still angry at him, but he'll be damned if he'll give Solomon the satisfaction of thinking there's problems in their relationship, so he sets his laptop down, and kneels on the floor in front of Kurt.

"I'm sorry," he says, even though he doesn't think he should be the one to apologize. "Paying the florist totally slipped my mind. That was dumb of me, I know. I'm just a little overworked right now. I love you, though, and you'll look beautiful on our wedding day, whether there's a backdrop of flowers or not."

"Oh there had better be flowers," Kurt retorts, but then he smiles, and his whole face softens as he tenderly takes Blaine's face in his hands. "I love you too, and I'm sorry for going off on you like that. I just want our day to be perfect."

"Kurt, we could get married in a barn and it would still be perfect," Blaine says, resting their foreheads together. "As long as we get to be husbands."

"Oh you two are cute!" Solomon interjects, and though Blaine wants to punch him, he is warmed by the fact that Kurt takes no notice of him at all.

"Wanna get pizza tonight?" he asks, and Kurt bites his lip, knowing full well that a night of pizza and beer usually leads to hot sex. As most things do.

"Definitely."

Satisfied, Blaine kisses him softly and returns to the armchair, looking over at his fiancé every so often and grinning. He thinks he's won the first round.

He's not impressed the next evening though, when he returns home at nine and Solomon is there again. Still, he smiles as brightly as he can, and this time he wedges himself on the end of the couch next to Kurt, and is thrilled when Kurt puts an arm around his shoulders, and kisses his cheek.

"I miss you on Tuesday's."

"Hmm, I know, but think of the money."

Kurt grins, and Solomon is forgotten, as he leans in close and whispers in Blaine's ear. "I'm thinking of the babies. Our babies. I can't stop thinking about it."

"Kids?" Solomon laughs. "Kids with a kid? Kurt, you can't!"

"I'm twenty one," Blaine snaps. "And how Kurt and I choose to live our lives is no concern of yours."

"Oh come on, I'm sure Solomon didn't mean it like that," Kurt tries, but Blaine is already on his feet.

"Well I think he did," he retorts, and goes into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," Solomon says into the silence. "I didn't mean to upset him."

"It's okay. He's... he gets really sensitive about being seen as a kid, that's all."

"Why though?"

"Well," Kurt gives a small smile, and turns back to the laptop. "We all have our insecurities."

"Maybe he thinks you'll find someone closer to your own age."

"Nah." Kurt laughs softly. "He knows he's all I'll ever need."

"Is it hard? Finding common ground with such a large age gap?"

"Oh Blaine and I have no common ground whatsoever, except for the fact that we love one another and our family with our whole hearts."

"And is that enough?"

Kurt frowns, annoyed by the insinuation. "Of course. I wouldn't have proposed otherwise."

"Yeah, of course," Solomon agrees. "I just hope it will always be enough for someone as fiery and ambitious as you, that's all."

Behind the bedroom door, Blaine sinks to the floor and holds his head in his hands. Solomon has triumphed in round two.

Disorientated, and filled with terror, Blaine sits upright in bed, screaming. Kurt is by his side in seconds, holding him close, soothing, kissing away his tears. "I'm here, I'm here," he whispers. He tries not to cry. After three months of therapy, and a long period of happiness, Kurt had assumed the nightmares had left Blaine for good. It's like he's been slapped in the face with iced water to feel Blaine trembling in his arms again, and clinging to him for all he's worth.

"Shh, shh, I've got you, I've got you. Come on," he soothes. "I love you, my puppy, I love you."

"Solomon," Blaine gasps, through his wretched sobs. "He's going to take you."

"Oh Blaine, no he's not! No one could ever take me from you. I'm yours forever, I promise you."

"No, he is, Kurt, I know it! He's gonna work his way into your life, point out all my flaws, and then, one day, I'll come home and you won't be here anymore!"

"Blaine, listen to me. I promise you that is not the case at all. I swear. I love you, not him. I don't feel anything for him!"

"Not now you don't but….oh, what's the point?"

"Blaine, please! Solomon is not trying to split us up. He's been here twice so I can help him with a presentation. That's no different to me going to Kate's house, or you meeting professor Scarbo for coffee. These people are work friends. Just because he's gay doesn't mean you need to feel threatened by him."

"It's not because he's gay! I didn't feel threatened by Jason, did I? I feel threatened because he likes you."

"But that's absurd."

"You're blind if you can't see it, Kurt."

"And you're an idiot if you're letting it affect you like this," Kurt snaps back.

"Thanks," Blaine says sadly, and he lies down again and tries to go back to sleep.

He doesn't succeed until it's almost dawn, and neither does Kurt. Both know the other is awake, but they don't do anything about it, opting instead to lie in an awkward and uncomfortable silence, until they eventually drift off.

As a result, they sleep through the alarm, and when Kurt wakes it is past eight thirty.

"Shit! Shit! For fucks sake, Blaine. Blaine!"

"Huh? What?"

"We're late! Well, I am. You can probably show up to class when you feel like it. Why didn't you wake me?" he snaps. He quickly pulls on yesterday's pants, because there's no time to pick anything else, and pulls out the first sweater from his closet.

"I was asleep too," a groggy and disoriented Blaine says, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

"Great, just fucking great. I have a meeting with three fucking designers at nine!" Kurt rages.

"So get a cab."

"Get a cab," he mutters angrily, searching for some kind of scarf or brooch or something to brighten up the dark sweater. "Get a cab. I'll have to get a fucking cab, won't I? I'll still be late, though, because of you and your dumb..."

He stops himself, just.

"My what, Kurt? Go on, say it. My dumb nightmare."

"No, Blaine, I didn't..."

"Forget it," Blaine snaps, storming out of bed and pulling open the bedroom door. "Just get to work. I'll show up to my crappy college class when I feel like it."

When Kurt finishes dressing, he listens at the bathroom door. The shower is going, and he really has no time to wait for Blaine to emerge, so he gathers his things, and then stops in their tiny hallway. There on the table, next to his keys, is a travel mug filled with coffee. That one tiny gesture, makes Kurt want to call in sick to work and spend the entire day making up to Blaine for his anger, but he can't. Not today. Vowing to text him later, he leaves the apartment.

"Knock knock."

Kurt looks up from his work hopefully, even though he knows it's not Blaine, and he gives Solomon a weak smile.

"Hey there."

"Hi." Solomon closes the door behind him, and, in a rather bold move for an intern, sits on the edge of Kurt's desk. "I haven't seen you all day."

"Day from hell."

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?"

"No," Kurt sighs, leaning back in his chair. "Not really. Just one of those days, you know?"

"Oh no. How come?"

"Ugh. Well." Kurt leans forward, folding his arms on his desk as he looks up at him. "I barely slept. Blaine had….well, he was awake, so I was up dealing with him."

Solomon gives a little laugh. "You make it sound like you have a kid."

"Please don't call him that," Kurt says with a frown. "This last year, Blaine and I have been through some really tough times so...well, we're both still dealing with that, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Solomon says meekly. "Please carry on."

"Well, then I woke up late, and I was late for my meeting. Two out of the three designers were fine with it, but the one we really wanted, was the one who walked out at nine fifteen, declaring it a waste of time. I got here at nine twenty," he says, with a rueful laugh.

"Well that sucks, but at least you can work with the other two, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just….ugh. My hair won't go right either," he admits. "And its pissing me off. Just, everything is, you know?"

"I'd say your hair looks pretty perfect, actually," Solomon says quietly, and reaching out, he daringly brushes a stray lock of hair from Kurt's forehead.

Kurt pulls back quickly, as if burned. "Don't touch my hair!" he snaps angrily.

"Woah! Sorry!" Solomon holds his hands up, surprised at the strong reaction. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's... I'm sorry. It's just... Blaine is the only one who does that."

"If you don't like it, tell him to stop."

Kurt frowns, and scoots his chair back just a little bit. "If I didn't then I would. I love him touching my hair."

"Oh."

"It's just I have... I have a bit of a thing with physical affection. I'm not really into it, unless it's from a person I love and trust."

"You don't trust me?"

"I don't know you well enough."

"Okay." Solomon gives a shrug and stands, backing slowly out of the office. "I'm just gonna...go, because this is all kinds of awkward and...yeah."

"No, no, stay," Kurt says with a sigh. "Really, I'm sorry, I'm just tired, and stressed. I yelled at Blaine this morning, and I've been meaning to call him ever since, only now I'm trying and his phone is turned off."

"That's what's stressing you out?"

"Yeah. I hate fighting with him, and it seems like we're doing it more and more lately. You know what?" he says, looking at the clock, and seeing it is after four. "I think I'm gonna take off and finish this up at home. That way I'll be there when he gets back."

"Come for a drink first," Solomon offers. "That'll de-stress you a little, and then you'll feel better about talking to him."

"I don't know..."

"Oh come on, Kurt. When was the last time you went for a drink after work, huh?"

"Never."

"Never? Sheesh!" Solomon laughs, and hands Kurt his jacket. "It's every man's right to let loose a little after a stressful day, my friend! Come on. Just the one."

One drink turns into four beers at a sports bar of all places, and light headed and a little fuzzy, Kurt has forgotten all about calling Blaine, or heading home, until he realizes it's after seven thirty, and he tells Solomon they need to go.

"Hey, you know what we should do?" Solomon asks, once they're on the street. "We should get take out and go back to your place."

"Oh, I don't know if that's really a good idea," Kurt says, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Well it's just...Blaine. He thinks you don't like him."

"What? That's crazy. Blaine's a really sweet boy." He glances across at Kurt as they walk, watching his reaction. "I like him. I really hope you manage to make it, if that's what you want."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, it's just you said yourself you're arguing all the time, and you have no common ground."

"I didn't mean it like that though," Kurt says, frustrated at the way his words have been twisted. "I mean, we share a family for a start."

"Oh what, so you're just with him so your dad doesn't get mad?"

"Don't put words in my mouth," Kurt warns. "That's not what I mean and you know it. Blaine and I have a lot of things in common. We like the same TV shows, movies...we both love theatre. I meant we have very different personalities to each other, that's all."

"Yeah, and I hope you can both work on that."

"He makes me incredibly happy," Kurt says firmly. "I love that we're so different. It works for us."

"Does it though? You seem to be prepared to settle down with a guy whom you're terrified of upsetting. You won't even bring a friend home for a meal because you don't want to make him mad. That doesn't sound like a relationship that makes you incredibly happy, it sounds like a jealous little boy who's throwing his toys out of the stroller because you have a new friend."

"I'm not scared of hurting him, I don't want to hurt him," Kurt snaps. He's more than a little annoyed with all that Solomon is implying, and he's determined to prove him wrong. "There's a big difference. And I'll be friends with whoever I want, Blaine knows that."

"Does he? Prove it then," Solomon challenges. "Let's get takeout and go back to your apartment."

Kurt has lost track of time completely. He's not had any more beer, despite Solomon trying to convince him, but the takeout has been eaten, and still Blaine isn't home, and neither has Solomon left. He stupidly left his phone on the counter in the kitchen, and had tried to get it, only Solomon had told him he was too protective over Blaine, and to stop worrying, and how was he ever going to grow up if Kurt kept on acting like his dad?

He didn't feel like he could get it after that.

Solomon talks and talks and talks. He also asks questions, endlessly, and Kurt gives very brief answers to all of them, suddenly not really wanting this guy to get to know him at all. Where did he grow up? Who was his first boyfriend? Why did he move to New York? Does he like it here? Favorite movie? Album? Singer? Book? On and on and on.

"So how did you and Blaine meet?"

"Uh...he was my dad's neighbor. Then his mom moved, and Blaine decided to move in with my dad instead."

"How come?"

"Just because. He wanted to finish school in Lima."

"He was still in High School?"

"He was sixteen when we met," Kurt says, smiling as he thinks of it. "So young, but so beautiful. Gosh, when I think back now, I was so completely smitten with him from the moment we met. We got together properly when he'd just turned eighteen. We celebrated three years last week."

"Cute," Solomon says, with a tight smile. "So you're his first boyfriend, then?"

"I am," Kurt says proudly.

"Don't you worry he'll want to explore when he's older?"

Kurt laughs, and in all honesty, he doesn't know what on earth possesses him to lean forward and rest a hand on Solomon's arm, and he certainly doesn't know why he answers with, "You haven't seen me in bed," but he does.

He says it, and maybe it's the arrogant Kurt of old rearing his ugly head once more, but he feels the need to get it out there, to make it known that he's better than anyone or anything. "He'll never stray. Why would he?"

"Well that's true," Solomon agrees. "Hell, I wouldn't if I had you."

"Don't," Kurt says, snatching his hand away.

"Oh come on, Kurt, why do you think I asked you out? You must know I find you attractive. I mean, you're with Blaine, of course, so I'd never….but we can be friends, right?"

Kurt is prevented from answering, by the sound of the key in the lock, and Blaine walks into the room. He's clearly been crying, but he carries take out and flowers in his hand, and Kurt's heart twists in pain, as his face falls when he sees Solomon on the couch.

"Did you get my text?"

"What text?" Kurt asks.

"The one that said I was on my way with takeout."

"Oh, Blaine, we've already eaten," Solomon says, and Blaine's eyes flick to the empty Chinese cartons.

"So I see. Nevermind."

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, feeling suddenly close to tears. "My phone is in the kitchen."

Blaine gives a nod, then disappears to eat his takeout alone.

In the kitchen, he really doesn't feel like eating at all, but he knows he has to bide his time, and he really doesn't want to go back in the living room with them sitting there. It takes fifteen minutes, but mercifully Solomon comes into the kitchen, and announces he's going home.

"Good," Blaine says, looking him square in the eye. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"Look, Blaine, I know you don't like me..."

"No, I don't like the way you look at my fiancé."

"Blaine!" Kurt cries.

"Don't you trust Kurt? You're supposed to be marrying him."

"This is not about me trusting Kurt."

"You know, Blaine, Kurt and I are just friends," Solomon says, but there's an underlying tone to his voice that Blaine doesn't care for at all. "If you're having problems in your relationship then fine, but don't pin it on me."

Blaine scrapes his chair back and stands, squaring up to Solomon, even though he's a good six inches shorter. "I'm giving you ten seconds to get out of my apartment, or I will not be responsible for my actions," he snarls.

Solomon backs away, his hands held up. "Cool it there little buddy. Kurt, I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"I'll see you out."

Blaine doesn't sit back down, he just remains standing, his anger building, as he thinks about Kurt, no doubt apologizing for Blaine's actions, and telling Solomon he'll fill him in tomorrow.

"What the hell was that?" Kurt storms back in, slamming the front door.

"I don't want him in my apartment ever again."

"Excuse me?"

Blaine should, by now, recognize the low warning tone to Kurt's voice, but he's too wound up and angry to give it any thought. "You heard."

"Whose apartment?"

"Ours."

"Can I remind you who pays the rent?"

"Dad pays a third of it," Blaine snipes.

Kurt lounges against the counter, his arms folded. "And how much do you contribute, Blaine? Huh?"

"Oh that is not fair! I'm studying and working to build our future together! You were the one who told me to do that! Suddenly that's not okay? Fine. I'll drop out and get a job at fucking Walmart."

"Don't curse!"

"Fuck off, Kurt! And fuck you. I have every right to say he's not allowed here again, whether I pay rent or not."

"You have no right to tell me who I can or can't be friends with!"

"I do when it's affecting our relationship! Can't you see what he's doing? It's exactly what I said would happen. He's putting little nagging doubts in your mind. He's damn smart about it though, all along insisting that he's being nothing more than a friend to you. Then he'll pounce. We'll break up, and he'll be the one who helps you through it all, and then bam, you're in love with him and I'm forgotten."

"You really think that little of me? You don't trust me at all, do you?"

"I trust you, I don't trust him."

"You trust me?" Kurt screams. "Really? Then why are you acting like this?"

"Because I don't like what he's doing to us, Kurt!"

"No, you don't like me having a friend."

"Bullshit! I'm more than happy that you have friends, but not him. For fuck's SAKE, Kurt! How can you not see what he's up to?"

Kurt takes a menacing step towards Blaine, prodding him in the chest. "You listen to me, Blaine, and you listen good. You have no hold over me at all. I will be friends with whoever I want, and you will not dictate who comes into this apartment. This is your problem to get over, not mine, and not Solomon's. I defended you earlier when he said you were like a kid, but now, I'm not so sure I should have bothered. Call me when you've decided to grow up."

He storms out, grabs his keys, and pulls on his boots.

"You're leaving? Where are you going? Not to him, please tell me not to him."

Kurt turns back, giving him a cold look. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

And he is gone.