Author's Note: Good day everyone! Enjoying the hiatus? Yeah, no, me neither. But have no fear! An update is here! :D

Background with a bit of fluff at the end. :3

Hope y'all like it!

*Warning* For triggers/references to domestic violence, physical abuse, and curse words.

Again, no beta. All mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.

~C.J.

(Chapter 18)

"Dad, are you absolutely certain you don't need me to come back home right now?" Kurt asked into the Bluetooth hooked on his ear. He tilted his head as he stared at himself in the three full-length vanity mirrors. The man twisted this way and that, trying to see this outfit at every which angle. It was the fifth one he'd tried on in that store.

But is it too much red? Hmm…

"Kurt, if you want to settle down in New York, you don't need my permission."

"I didn't say 'settle down' exactly." Kurt stated a bit too quickly. "It was just…a friend invited me to stay for another week or so." He twirled again, this time staring down at the sparkly red Marc Jacob high-top sneakers.

Surprisingly comfy.

"Friend, huh?" There was a teasing lit to his father's question.

Kurt blushed, his cheeks matching the form fitting red knee-length sweater. "Don't start."

Burt chuckled, "What? Can't a father be curious about his son's 'friend'?" Dear Lord, Kurt could practically hear the air quotes.

"What's there even to be curious about?" Kurt sniffed primly.

"Let's start with his name."

"What makes you so sure it's a guy?"

"Fine. What's HER name?"

Kurt snorted. His father knew him too well sometimes. "Blaine."

"Interesting name for a girl."

"Dad…" Kurt warned, even as his lips quirked up in a smile.

Burt was laughing, "Buddy, I'm just teasing. I'm honestly happy for you."

Kurt felt his smile widen, fondness crossing his features. "What happened to 'guys not being the only thing New York has to offer,' huh?"

"I'm an old man. What do I know?"

"True."

"Hey, now!"

"You said it, not me." Kurt quipped, turning his backside towards the mirrors so he could see how the white jeans fit him.

Ugh, gotta start laying off the extra mocha powder Hummel.

"So, Blaine. He somethin' special?" Burt questioned.

He sighed, wriggling his toes in the sneakers as he thought for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe? It's just…you know…I'm afraid of being wrong again."

"Kurt, not everyone ya meet is gonna hurt you."

"I know, but I-I'm scared." Kurt confessed.

"Kiddo, you can't let one awful experience keep you from living. It ain't healthy. Trust me, I know."

"How?"

It was Burt's turn to sigh. "Your mom's death damn near killed me. I thought about throwing in the towel more than once. But if I'd just given up on life, I wouldn't have gotten to see you grow up as good as you did, I wouldn't have met Carole, and Finn wouldn't be your brother. We're Hummels. We don't get pushed around."

Kurt felt himself give a small smile, "I guess you have a point."

"Course I do. Wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true."

He snorted, "You're ridiculous. But also right…as usual. Which really bugs me sometimes." Kurt joked.

"It's a dad thing." Burt said, trying to hold back his snickering. "But seriously, have some damn FUN. You deserve it."

"Oh, really? What happened to the dad that always greeted my dates with a loaded shotgun?"

"Still here, and the first sign that this guy is anything less than amazing to you…trigger-happy won't even begin to describe what I'll do to him."

Kurt felt something warm spread in his chest. He loved his dad so much. "I'll remember that, and thanks, dad. But I think you can relax. Blaine is…Blaine's a nice guy. I feel good when I'm with him, happy actually. H-He's not like…it's not like last time. I promise."

Burt frowned some, hating when his kid thought about his past relationship, if it could even be referred to as one. "Good to know. I'll talk to you soon, Bud. Call if you need anything."

"You got it."

"Love ya, Kurt."

"Love you too, dad." Kurt ended the call on his Bluetooth, and then went back to examining his outfit. A fond smile still plastered on his face from talking to his dad.

Yeah, I think this is the one.

"Didn't I see that sweater in the women's section?"

"Fashion has no gender." Kurt responded automatically, not even looking back to see who'd so rudely commented on his clothing choice.

"Aww, and when did Twinkle Toes start making adult sizes?"

Kurt felt his jaw tighten, spinning on his heels to glower at the unwanted criticizer. "Do I know you?"

An amused smile played across the guy's face, "Ugh, like I'd associate with someone as flamingly cliché as you."

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Oh, and Betty White called. She wants her outfit back."

"Funny, considering your Burberry scarf is obviously a knock-off." Kurt shot back.

"You wish." The guy said, his green eyes narrowing at the suggestion. "And just a friendly tip, being disgustingly stereotypical gives all us gays a bad name. I am legitimately afraid that you could burst into flames any minute."

"Ok, that's it." Kurt took a step forward and got right in the rude guy's personal space. "I don't what your problem is, but I don't have time to go back and forth with an asshole like you. I do not care if you like my outfit or my demeanor, because the last thing I'm looking for is the approval from an Andrew McCarthy wannabe that smells like Craigslist. So I suggest you back off before I get snippy." Without waiting for an answer, Kurt turned towards the dressing rooms; ready to change back into his clothes so he could purchase the outfit he planned to wear tonight.

"Well we wouldn't want that, now would we…Cinderella?"

Kurt froze mid-strut, and then snapped his head back around. "What did you call me?" But the guy had already left. The blue-eyed male could hear his breathing become more audible, but he forced himself to concentrate on calming down. Names were just names, coincidences. They didn't mean anything. He needed to just pay for his items and get back to the apartment. Nothing was going to ruin his time in New York, or his date with Blaine. Especially not words from a bitter stranger.

Blaine thumped his head down on the bar countertop, groaning into it. He waved his hand in the general direction of someone. "A double. No, triple! Of anything, ANYTHIIIIING."

"Um…yo, dude. 'The Pinn Up' ain't open. We're trying to set up for the night."

He snapped his head up and gave Puck his best pout. "Pleeeeaaase, there's a small brunette in my apartment."

"That's like, the opposite of a problem."

Blaine reached forward and fisted Puck's shirt in both his hands. "But it's a woman. A woman by the name of Rachel Berry." He was shaking Puck now, trying to relay how dire his situation was.

"Sweet Jesus. GET THIS MAN THE BOTTLE!" Puck hollered.

"Dude! Not cool, that's my wife." Finn glared, finishing off cleaning a glass before sticking it under the bar. He was ungodly tall, even when standing next to Puck. So unfair. Kurt had been right though. The guy, Finn, he was cute. That adorably goofy, lovable boy next-door type, at least according to Kurt.

Blaine blinked, "So you're Mrs. Berry-Hudson's husband. My condolences."

Finn glared at him, and at a snickering Puck. "You guys are shit."

Puck chuckled, extracting a still exhausted Blaine from himself and plopping him back on the barstool. "You're not doing your job, Hudson. Your woman is still making trouble for every other guy in the tri-state area."

Finn snorted, "I'm her husband. Not her keeper. Plus, when has she ever listened to me?"

"So true."

"Asshole, remind why I came back here to rescue you from burning down our bar."

"Hey! Me and the bro had it covered." Puck defended, hopping over the bar to rearrange some chairs. "And you fucking missed me."

"Whatever." Finn rolled his eyes, grabbing a glass and pouring Blaine a shot of Jack. "So, what's Rach doing at your place anyways?"

Blaine knocked back his shot, sighing in relief when he felt the pleasant burn. "I don't even know anymore. This is the third day she's barged into my apartment to 'help' me."

"Huh…so that's where she's been off to. Go figure."

Puck was shoving a table into place when he asked, "You're not even a bit worried that you're wife has been over at another guy's house for the past few days? WHIPPED."

"Shaddup." Finn laughed, tossing a rag at Puck. "I trust Rachel. Besides, Blaine's gay."

Blaine muttered something like 'if I wasn't before, I certainly am now after meeting Rachel.' Grabbing the bottle, he poured himself another shot. "She's been fung shuiing my apartment. Getting the lovers vibe to flow or whatever she said. I stopped listening like two days ago. She threw out all my cigarettes, my last pack is in my back pocket and geesus that chick makes me want a cig every second I'm with her…no offense. Miniature, crazy, control-freak just isn't my thing."

"Um…none taken?" Finn grabbed the bottle. Last thing he needed was for Blaine to down the whole thing. Dude hadn't even paid! "And you just left her. Alone. In YOUR apartment?"

"Nothing I say seems to register with her, so it's just better if I get out of the way and let her…fun sway, or whatever." Blaine frowned, downing the last of his Jack as Finn put the bottle back on its shelf. "Guess I should be happy. I mean, I like Kurt, so if Rachel likes me, that can only be good for me, right?"

Blaine jumped suddenly, looking confused when he noticed Puck almost doubled over from laughing. "Rachel, good for you…AHAHA….funny Hobbit, funny."

Finn just ignored him, leaning over and narrowing his eyes at Blaine, "Right, about you liking Kurt."

He frowned, "I do. I really do. Fuck, what is with everyone thinking I'm playing him? You guys know me, I perform here all the time."

Puck stopped laughing in the background, and Finn's gaze on him darkened. "That don't mean nothing. Puck told me what happened at that little audition."

Blaine groaned, "I already apologized to Kurt for that. Repeatedly."

"Yeah, well, that just proves you're not the most straight-forward guy around. Lying to my brother will get ya no favors." Finn warned.

"I know, I know. It was a crap thing to do, but Kurt's given me a second chance. I'm not gonna blow it. Kurt's not like anyone I've ever met. Shitty things don't seem so shitty when I'm with him, ya know?" Blaine breathed, blushing fiercely when he realized how smitten he sounded.

Oh God, kill me now.

Finn couldn't hide his smirk at that, glancing over at Puck who just nodded smugly. "That's cool."

"Better than cool. It's pretty badass, man. But just remember," Puck reminded, "I ain't got no problem going back to prison."

Finn slapped a hand over the side of his face, "You were in juvie for like a month. Not prison."

Puck huffed, "Dude, seriously? I'm trying to make a threat here—on behalf of YOUR boy—and you shoot me down like that? Not cool."

"Boo freakin' hoo."

"Do you want me to kick your ass?"

"Pfft, I'd like to see you try."

That's pretty much how the next five minutes went, Finn and Puck bickering with each other, only half paying attention to the tables they were cleaning or the furniture they were moving. Blaine had tuned out of their weird back and forth about a minute in, thoughts whirling around in his head about what he was going to do for the date. Then suddenly, it clicked. Right when Puck was getting ready to jump up and grab Finn in a headlock. "Holy crap. That's it!"

Finn and Puck turned towards the outburst, "Huh?"

"Kurt's gonna flip."

"What, why?"

Blaine turned towards the confused looking business partners and smiled. "Thanks for the talk, guys. But Finn, I have to go find your wife. I actually need her help. I gotta—I gotta go. See ya later!" He waved at them, jumping off his seat and running out the door.

Finn stared out the door for minute, processing the suddenly over excited Anderson. "Well, didn't see that coming."

Puck nodded, about to comment, but then remembered something he hadn't told his buddy yet. "Fuck, I almost forgot that I had something to tell you."

"What? About Blaine?"

"No, dammit. Forget him for a second. Last week, something not quite right happened. Something dealing with your bro, Kurt."

Finn furrowed his eyebrows, concerned. "What're you talking about?"

Puck shook his head, grimacing at the theory. "Nothin' you're gonna like."

"BLAINE!"

Blaine yelped in surprise, confused as to why two pairs of hands were dragging him into the alleyway beside 'The Pinn Up.' It smelled like garbage, piss, and stale booze. Yaaaay. "Jake? Ryder? What the hell?!"

"Chill, we just wanted to catch you before you ran off." Jake explained.

"Yeah, we did some digging around. Uncovered a few things." Ryder piped in, holding up a handful of papers.

Blaine stared at them for moment, taking the papers from Ryder and unfolding them. The logo said Wyckoff Heights on one of the page's upper right-hand corners. He tried to read through one of the pages, most of the information was in medical lingo and he couldn't really understand it. "What—"

"Guys, can I like…grab my stuff and leave now? I have work in like two hours and I still have to go home to get my scrubs." Some brunette girl butted in, bouncing on the balls of her feet in impatience.

"Shit. Right, um…I'll take her up to the apartment. Fill Blaine in on what we've got." Jake said, handing over his stack of sheets to Ryder before he went to escort the girl to the apartment above the bar.

"Right. Right. Well, let me break it down."

Good, because I'm confused.

"Kay well, see this date? And this one? And this one? And this one?" Ryder asked, showing Blaine paper after paper of medical info.

"Y-Yea?"

"Well, all these sheets have date after date of hospital visits—"

"Wait a minute." Blaine snatched back the papers, sifting through more of them. Eyebrows rising when he noticed how many visits were in a single YEAR. "Ryder…"

"A lot of admittances, right?"

No duh.

"Guy must have a condition or something, right? Wrong. I was looking over these on the car ride over here—Marley helped decipher some of the medical jargon—and these are all physical injuries. Look." Ryder showed Blaine the different sheets again, but this time pointing to a different point on the papers. "It started with some broken fingers. Then some bruised ribs. Dislocated shoulder. Fractured ankle. AND an open cut on the back of his head that needed stitches."

What…

"The list goes on."

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Blaine whispered, bile churning in his gut.

"You have to hear this. Every injury is listed as an accident."

"That's not possible."

Ryder frowned, "Well, it is. Your guy put down that he was a full-time student at NYADA. Now, I used to date a girl who was enrolled there, and from what she always said, those dance courses are rigorous. A lot of accidents happen during midterms and finals. Student after student trying out chorography moves before they're ready and creating routines too advanced for themselves just so they can impress their professors. It's the perfect excuse. Genius actually, especially when covering up…"

"For covering up what, Ryder?" Blaine pushed. "I know we're both thinking the same thing."

He sighed, "Domestic violence."

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, turning away from the younger boy. "Fuck…"

"Once or twice he stated he fell down the stairs, walked into a door. God, it still amazes how much victims will put up with." Ryder mused.

"Don't you dare blame this on Kurt." Blaine spat, honey eyes hard and warning.

Ryder held up his hands, "M'not. I swear. Was just thinking out loud. Sorry." He quickly sifted through the papers. "Listen, I couldn't get his whole medical file. We're damn lucky to have even gotten this. I think he tried to report the abuse at one point, but for some reason, I couldn't find it in the precinct's database."

"Then what makes you so sure there's a report to find?"

"At first I wasn't too sure, but after our visit to the hospital, we found these." Ryder handed over a few printed out pictures. "They would have been documented for evidence, because Kurt would have actually reported being abused."

Blaine looked at the pictures; frame after frame of bruises—new and old—on what was supposed to be perfect alabaster skin. His torso, his back, arms and legs. All conveniently placed where Kurt could have hid them, if he dressed in strategically worn layers. Blaine's hands were shaking slightly, but if it was from horror or rage, he wasn't exactly sure. What punched the air out of Blaine's lungs was the picture documenting the injuries on Kurt's face. A black eye, bruised cheek, split open lip, but what really broke Blaine's heart was the look in Kurt's eyes. His gorgeous glasz eyes were so sad, and hopeless. The boy just looked utterly terrified. Blaine shoved the pictures back at Ryder, and then he leant back against the brick building to cover his face with both his hands. "I don't understand. How could anyone ever want to physically h-hurt Kurt? He's so beautiful, and kind, so damn wonderful." He lowered his hands, feeling his heart ache for the blue-eyed man. "Just…HOW?"

Ryder gave Blaine a sympathetic look, gathering the papers and folding them up. "Sometimes perps got a reason. Other times, there just ain't a reason at all." He stuffed the papers into the back of his pants.

"Did all this digging around at least get us a name?"

He shook his head, "Sorry. Either the nurses didn't write it down, or Kurt didn't give it to them."

"But the police report—"

"Has a lot of missing information. What I have is bits and pieces; this is only a portion of the medical files. We've just got an idea of what must be in the sealed file."

"Sealed…what? I don't—"

"Look, don't worry about that. The point is to catch this guy in the act. Stick close to Kurt, and I'll watch you guys' backs. The minute this guy slips up—because at some point he will—I got him."

Blaine nodded slowly, "And that will work?"

"It has to." Ryder said, "For now, just go about your normal routine. We can't let him know we're on to him, or he might bolt. So don't. Tell. Kurt."

Blaine grimaced, hating keeping secrets from Kurt when it involved him. "Fine."

"And here." Ryder handed Blaine a card. "This is my number. Call or text me anytime something suspicious happens. I wrote down Jake's too just in case. Now, I'm gonna be heading off too. It's almost time for my next shift to start."

Right as Ryder was about to take off from the alley, Blaine put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Ryder. Thank you."

Ryder smiled, slapping a hand in Blaine's and gripping his palm. "Hey, I'm a cop. It's what we do. Stay safe, Anderson. Oh, and don't do anything stupid."

He snorted half-heartedly, watching as Ryder jogged off in the opposite direction of where Blaine had been initially going. His mind went over the new chunks of information he just received. It explained so much about Kurt, and why he is so hesitant to give the idea of a new relationship a chance. Well, Blaine was going to make for damn sure Kurt knew that this was going to be different, that Blaine was different. And he wasn't going to let that bastard get anywhere NEAR Kurt.

He'll have to go through me first.

Kurt rocked back and forth on his heels as he rode the elevator all the way to Blaine's rooftop. Nerves and eagerness were vibrating through his entire form. He didn't have a clue what Blaine was planning. The only hint he received was a text message from Blaine earlier that day.

Hey gorgeous ;) My rooftop. Tonight. 8pm. Don't be late. –B.A.

The elevator dinged when Kurt had arrived to the very top. He took a deep breath right before the doors opened, heart hammering in his chest at how hopeful he was for tonight. Once the doors opened, Kurt squinted at how surprisingly dark the rooftop was. Stepping out of the elevator hesitantly, Kurt called out, "Blaine?"

He didn't receive an answer, but upon listening closer, he could hear some faint clanking. Curiosity getting the best of him, Kurt followed the noise on the rooftop to where he perceived it to be coming from. "Sonofabitch! Mutha fuckin'…" Blaine's grumbles were getting less and less coherent by the second.

Kurt smiled at the hunched over form, watching as he fiddled with a metal outdoor heater. "Any luck?"

"Shit!" Blaine jumped at the new voice, accidently knocking at something inside the heater. Interestingly enough, whatever Blaine knocked into seemed to do the trick. Because the next thing either boy knew, the heater was roaring to life. It began emitting heat and warming up their side of the rooftop. "Ya gotta be kidding me." Blaine glared at the useless device, slamming the door to the heater more roughly than he should have. "I've been messing with this thing for the past fifteen minutes, then you come and scare the living wits out of me, and the damn thing decides to wake up. Useless. Piece. Of. Crap."

Kurt giggled at Blaine, finding him adorable when he scowled. "Well, now that we've got some heat up here. Anything we can do about the lighting? I'd actually like to see you at some point during the night."

"Huh? Oh! Right, right. Give me…just a second." Blaine drawled out his sentence, moving over toward one of the disconnected cables on the roof. He grabbed the two ends of the cords and connected them, blinking rapidly when lights suddenly illuminated their corner of the roof.

Kurt gasped at the scene that was revealed to him. There were lights lined along the edge of the rooftop, giving off the perfect amount of light for a romantic dinner lit glow. Bathed in the roof lights was a cozy table for two, chairs situated across from each other, plates with silverware on top of a tablecloth, and a fresh bouquet of pure white and rich red roses in the middle of the table. It was one of the most beautiful and intimate scenes he had ever laid eyes on. "Blaine…" He chuckled a bit in awe, "it's absolutely breathtaking."

Blaine smiled softly as he took in Kurt's delighted expression, face filled with wonderment. The dim lighting made the man's porcelain skin glow, and the twinkling lights sparkling in Kurt's eyes looked as if they were reflecting the stars in the midnight blue sky themselves. It was the reaction Blaine had been hoping for, maybe even more. "Yeah, breathtaking."

A/N: I know, not as much Klaine as you woulda hoped for. I just wanted their date to have it's own chapter. Hope you guys have a good Valentine's week, till next time my lovelies! Review?