#bbb 2020

The desert night was cool, with a breeze that shifted the sand beneath Tim’s feet like waves. The stars gleamed overhead, and for a second he was caught up in how clear the sky was. It had been years since he’d seen stars without a haze of light pollution around them.

Owens and Z were in front of him, his babysitters for the night. Pru was off to his left, fiddling with the safety on her gun. The ride here had been as light-hearted as was possible, given the circumstances, but that jovial tone had ended quickly. Their off-roader had died on them maybe half an hour before, and the small group was still huddled around the machine, waiting as Z checked the engine. Every few seconds, Pru glared at Tim, as if blaming him for the hold up. Though the others had made it very clear that this was a fool’s errand, Tim knew that Bruce was here, somewhere. He had to be, or Tim had thrown everything away for nothing.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? Tim might be the world’s greatest detective, now that Bruce was… out of commission. But his hunches could still be wrong. What if- no. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He would bring Bruce back, he had to.

“Hey, Drake, are you done brooding yet?” Pru’s voice echoed over the empty land. Tim huffed noncommittally and looked up to see the bald assassin twirling her gun on her finger.

“I’m a Bat. We’re never done brooding,” he quipped, before fiddling with the little radio receiver he had brought along. It didn’t do more than give off static when it was on, but having something to do with his hands helped.

Rolling her eyes, Pru gestured over to a precariously balanced pile of rocks. “Wanna see if I can hit the top one off without knocking over the others?”

Tim sighed heavily and dragged himself over to her, Owens trailing behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he even saw Z peek out from behind the hood to watch.

Squaring off, Pru brought up her gun and fired off a shot. To no one’s surprise, the top rock went flying and the others remained still, albeit with a slight wobble.

“Fuck yeah! Z, did you see…” She trailed off, her face blanching. Tim followed suit, only to be greeted with Z on the ground, chest bleeding in a way his medical training told him was too much. His brown eyes were already glassy, and his chest wasn’t moving anymore. It was then that the rest of the image came into focus, and Tim’s eyes finally latched onto the cloaked man holding two bloody swords.

“I am the Widower,” the man said, his voice low and bone-chilling. “And here I was, thinking you’d put up a fight.”

Tim drew his bo staff, eyes tracking Pru and Owens as they rushed toward the Widower, guns at the ready. He had barely taken a step, but they were already on the ground, Pru bleeding from a large gash in her neck and Owens trying in vain to keep pressure on the wound in between his ribs.

Quick--what were his weaknesses? No visible limps or injuries, no issues handling the weapons. He moved like a snake through grass, smooth and precise. The Widower’s blades gleamed in the moonlight, and Pru’s blood dripped onto the sand. Tim lashed out with his staff, catching one of the swords right as it flew toward his throat.

“I guess dead birdies tell no tales,” Widower whispered as he drove the second sword, the one Tim had forgotten about, into Tim’s stomach.

The vigilante staggered back, and fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. The blade slid out and even through the gloves of his suit, Tim could feel his blood, warm and sticky. Was this how he was going to die? Mission incomplete, estranged from his family, bleeding out into the desert sand? He had never assumed he would survive in this job, but he’d at least thought he’d die as Robin. Oh god, he was never going to be Robin again.

The ground rushed up to greet him, sand in his mouth and eyes and hair. He supposed that it didn’t matter--it’s not like corpses care anyway. With his last ounces of strength, he rolled onto his back. Somewhere, some last shred of knowledge told him that this would keep him from bleeding out, but deep down he knew it was too late. Tim just wanted the stars to be the last thing he saw.

As darkness encroached on the corners of his vision, his mind drifted back to Bruce. This was it. The only father figure he’d ever had, or at least the only one who liked him as he was, would be doomed to never return. And it was all Tim’s fault.

The afterlife was dark. And cold. Tim had never been religious, aside from that year of Hebrew school his parents insisted he take in middle school, but even he knew that this wasn’t right. It took a second, but the cold and dark sharpened into something Tim knew well, his kitchen at home. Well, at Drake Manor.

The marble countertops gleamed, as did the floors, and Tim recalled tiptoeing around in his early childhood, so not to dirty them. The kitchen--really, the whole house--had always felt like a mausoleum. Cold, impersonable. Lonely. In some ways, a lot like Tim.

He drifted through the house, looking pointedly away from the family portrait that hung above the fireplace. It had been painted a few months before his mom was killed, right after he became Robin. They all looked so stiff, like actors playing a family in a movie. Actually, actors would probably do a better job than they did. That portrait had been the first thing Tim had put in storage when his dad died.

The curtains were drawn, letting in the gray sunlight Gotham was so well-known for. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his lawn, except… not. Gravestones dotted the otherwise pristine lawn, some new and some old and worn. He hesitated at the door, fingertips just brushing the doorknob. He was dead, it wasn’t like he could get hurt. Maybe this was some kind of purgatory that he had to deal with before he could move on. He pushed against the door, anticipating the old hitch in the hinges that had been around for years.

The air held the same chill as the house, pulling at Tim’s breath. Front and center, practically in the doorway, was Bruce’s grave, the one they’d buried him in just over a month ago. But now the death date was scratched out, in its place a sticker like the ones Tim used to put on his skateboard. It read: Eternally Damned To Disappointment. It’d sound like the name of a band Tim might’ve listened to, if he didn’t know that the disappointment was in him.

The next grave was older, cracked and crumbly. The ground in front of it was disturbed, and dried blood streaks marked the bottom of the headstone. Here lies Jason Todd. Well, that didn’t last long. And unlike Jason, Tim knew he wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t that lucky.

Next was Steph, or at least the grave she pretended to fill. It was covered in flowers, some of them bouquets Tim had left himself. Tim had spent hours in front of it, telling her how much he missed her and loved her, praying for the first and last times. When she came back… well, they were more distant than he would’ve liked. That wasn’t Steph’s fault, at least not entirely, but it did make him wonder. What if he never took back the mantle? Would this have been easier? He could’ve been a semi-normal teenager, living with his dad and stepmom, mourning his girlfriend and being blissfully unaware of the shitshow that was heroism. But he wouldn’t have been happy.

And speak of the devil, there’s his parents’ graves, right next to each other. It was almost funny how they were closer in death than in life. A boomerang was lodged in his father’s gravestone, with an old flip phone opened at the base. It listed Tim’s number as the last call. His mother’s had a sticky substance that a voice deep inside Tim told him not to touch. He lingered at these graves for a moment, breath caught in his throat. It’s not that he didn’t miss his parents--he did. But he had only known a piece of them, only just deeper than surface level. They weren’t parents as much as guardians with high expectations. And for the most part, he had met or exceeded every goal they gave him. But it never was enough. There was always another class to ace or language to learn or party to schmooze at. Worst of all, they were cold. If Tim was the chill night air, his parents were Antarctica.

The next grave stopped him in his tracks. Bart. One of his best friends, his ally in all things. Gone, but not in the way Bruce or Steph were. Bart wasn’t coming back. There would be no more Hawaiian pizza and donuts shared over a comic book, or sleepovers on the floor of Mount Justice. No more Wendy the Werewolf Stalker Marathons. There was no more Bart, and it stung in a way that Tim didn’t have a name for.

He turned around, expecting that to be the end of it, but there it was. Conner. All at once, the weight of the world fell on Tim’s shoulders, like his own personal Kryptonite. His best friend, someone he had been more than a little in love with once upon a time. He knew Conner was safe now, alive and saving people once again. Without Tim. Conner’s death had been the one that broke him, more than any of the others. Because if Conner Kent, Superboy and heartbreaker extraordinaire, hadn’t made it, what chance did Tim have? Well, obviously not much. How was Conner going to take this? He wasn’t like Tim, this was the first time he’d be alone.

Aren’t you tired of losing the ones you love? Aren’t you tired of being the one left behind? A quiet voice murmured in the back of his skull.

Yes. No. Yes. A sob tore from Tim’s chest, and his hand flew to his mouth. This was so stupid. He had dealt with loss before. Hell, the past year had been one unending funeral. Of course he was tired, who wouldn’t be?

This had to be Hell, but that felt like even more of a betrayal. Even Jason had made it to Heaven. Was this his punishment for toeing the line? Had he not suffered enough? Biting back another sob, Tim ran blindly toward the door, slamming it shut behind him in a way that would’ve made his mother shriek. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his living room anymore, but the Batcave. Even with his eyes full of tears, he would know it anywhere. And there was Dick in the Batsuit. And the demon in his Robin gear. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Dick looked up, expression weary.

“Tim, I already told you. Bruce isn’t coming back. I’m Batman now, and that means I get to choose the Robin. It’s about time you accept that.” It sure sounded like Dick. “Besides, it’s not like you were doing a great job anyway. You let Batman be killed on the job.” Damian sneered, leaning against Dick’s chair like a bully in a high school rom com.

“That-That’s not my fault!” Tim cried, heart pounding in his ears.

“Look, there’s an heir and a spare. There’s a new Robin now, you can be whatever you’re calling yourself now. Go do whatever you have to on this suicide mission, but leave Gotham out of it.”

Damian smiled like a demonic cherub. “Yes, Drake. Not even Grayson wants you anymore, if he ever did.”

Tim stood in shocked silence, unable to find words. Sure, Dick was focused on Damian, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care anymore. After all, they were brothers, right?

He’s taken the only thing you had left. Don’t you want revenge? He took your mantle, you should take it back. The voice sounded like Tim, but contorted--like it would on a recording.

Tim--no, not Tim, something else--reached back for the bo staff. As his hand gripped the metal, something flew toward him, hitting him directly in the stomach where he had been stabbed. It clattered to the floor, and through his pain, Tim realized it was a Batarang.

Don’t you want more, Timothy Drake-Wayne? It coaxed.

Yes.

The new Timothy Drake-Wayne took his first breaths in a cave deep in the Iraqi desert, hundreds of miles away from the house and the graves that had haunted his dream. It was cold here, nearly as cold as that dream had been. If he was in Hell, it would be hotter, wouldn’t it?

Tim swallowed hard and pushed himself up. His stomach, where he was pretty sure he had just been stabbed, was free of wounds or scarring. If anything, he felt stronger than he had before. As his feet touched the stone cold floor, he took note of the ninjas scattered around the room. Okay, so he was back at the League. They must have… The prior strength he had felt disappeared as his legs gave out. Normally he would have rolled or caught himself or something, but his gaze was fixed on the other side of the room, where a glowing green pit resided.

Oh, no.

No weapons, outnumbered, barely able to stand. The disadvantages stacked up before his eyes, screaming that there was no hope of him getting out of this one. Not to mention that he was probably already on his way to insanity. Fuck, the last time he’d seen Jason, the former Robin had almost killed him. Would Tim end up like that, homicidal and cruel?

He struggled to his feet, clutching the stone table for support. He could take out two, maybe three, if he just stopped thinking. He was trained for this, he could--

“Hello there, Detective,” a cold voice purred, quiet but deafening in the silent room. A chill hovered under Tim’s skin. It had been a long time since he’d last heard that voice. Detective? Isn’t that what he calls your mentor? There was the voice again, the only remaining fragment of the dream.

Ra’s al Ghul was one of those people who intimidated you just by existing in the same space. He reminded Tim of every strict teacher and cruel board member and snotty dinner party guest all rolled up into one. Oh, and he was the leader of the world’s largest assassin guild. That was important too.

“Did you find what you were looking for, Timothy?” Ra’s said in the same tone.

The teenager opened his mouth, then closed it again, searching for words. “No,” he managed to force out. “No, I didn’t.”

Are you sure?

Ra’s smiled, like a predator that had just gone for the killing blow. “Well, I suppose that you will have more than enough time to complete your quest during your stay with us.” And just like that, he turned, a group of ninjas peeling off to escort him back to whatever pit of Hell he’d crawled from. “If you need anything, ask for the White Ghost. Welcome to the Cradle, Detective.” And just like that, he was gone.

Tim was only alone with his thoughts for a minute before a tall man with alabaster skin and medieval-style chainmail entered the cavern.

Okay, so this was the White Ghost impersonator. The League wouldn’t kill someone they’d just resurrected, so maybe once he was alone he could escape? Go back to Gotham and see Dick and Sebastian and Zoanne one last time before he truly went insane, then start going to that therapist Dick recommended. He could make it through this, he wouldn’t end up like Jason--

And then in walked Tam Fox, looking terrified but for the most part unharmed. And all of Tim’s plans came crashing down.

Tam was a civilian, and a Wayne Enterprises employee to boot. Her life, and his identity, were in danger now. He was both her only savior and her greatest danger. New plan: listen to this knockoff White Ghost, do whatever it takes to gain their trust, then make it out with Tam at the first possible chance. And do it all without going off the deep end.

Easy. Not.

“I am the White Ghost,” the shitty cosplayer said, his chainmail clinking as he moved.

“Isn’t he dead?” Tim murmured under his breath. He’d definitely seen Dusan die. But if Tim was still alive, then maybe…

“There has always been a White Ghost,” the older man responded, as if that answered anything. “Now, it is time you and your guest retired to your quarters.”

Tam looked over at Tim, big brown eyes wide with fear. He nodded once, tried to conjure a press conference smile, and allowed them to be led to lavish bedchambers. They looked like beautiful, windowless prisons.

The next few weeks blended into their own lethal monotony. Tam stayed in her room all day and Tim went to meetings with various members of the League’s regime. It was a little like working at Drake Industries or Wayne Enterprises, just with more murder. A lot more murder. But the meetings were easy enough, and Tim soon found himself getting to know the people he once despised. He didn’t like them by any means, but he wasn’t terrified anymore.

He kept looking for Bruce. The desert gave no answers.

Tam didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push too hard. She had to know everyone’s identities by now, didn’t she? Tim was just one Robin-shaped piece of the puzzle. Here he was, in the desert, yet another failed Robin. His whole tenure, he’d been trying to live up to Jason Todd, and now in a sick way he had. Wearing Jason’s uniform, having been resurrected the same way, he now dreaded catching up to the boy who had once been his hero.

On nights when he cried silently into the silk sheets, trying to forget the way Jason had looked when he first came back to Gotham, the voice soothed: You can be greater than he ever was. You can outshine all of the others. You will be remembered when they are dust.

The desert was cold. There was no comfort here.

His bedchamber was nice enough. There was a large bed with silk sheets and gold accents and an ensuite bathroom. A large mirror took up the space where a window might have once been, like some sort of philosophical conundrum that Tim was too tired to try to unpack. There was a small passageway between his room and Tam’s, and if Tim was just a little more naive he would have believed that the League forgot about it when they placed him in this room. But he knew better. The League never forgot a thing.

Sometimes Tim caught himself in the mirror and for a second he swore his blue eyes looked green. Tam came in the next morning to glass littering the floor and cuts covering Tim’s hands. She said nothing while she helped him wrap up his knuckles.

Tim had always been adaptable. It’s easier than the constant push and shove of rebellion. When his parents told him to take those classes and join these clubs, he did. When he was instructed to give impromptu speeches at galas, he did. He put in the effort, he always had. He was never the best fighter and never would be, but he was smart and quick and brave. That had to mean something, right?

Maybe that’s why Ra’s al Ghul liked him so much.

The first time Ra’s al Ghul asked for a private meeting with Tim, the ground seemed to tilt under him. The well-trained vigilante tried not to show the fear in his eyes as his vision blurred and his heart thundered in his chest. But he went, because one did not say no to the Demon’s Head.

“Detective,” Ra’s began as he sat down at a large, stately desk that seemed out of place in the rest of the Cradle. The voices--he had taken to calling them whispers--that had been clogging Tim’s thoughts preened at the nickname, ignoring its former bearer.

“Tell me what you know about my grandson,” the assassin drawled, his fingers tapping on the desk rhythmically.

“Don’t you have spies for that?” Tim responded, not quite a retort but not an innocent question either. He’d seen enough of the League’s intel that it was clear how much they truly knew about the world outside the Cradle.

“Yes, but I’d prefer to hear it from someone… familiar with him. My eyes can only do so much from afar.”

Tim had no doubt that Ra’s knew everything about Damian: from the route he took to school to the cereal he ate for breakfast to how many times he pet Titus when he got home from school.

“He’s a brat.” Tim’s chagrin even took him by surprise, like it wasn’t really him talking. “He’s rude and inconsistent and incredibly immature. He’s aggressive and undisciplined. A sorry excuse for a Robin.”

And there it was, the green monster of jealousy rearing its head again. Yes, Damian had taken Robin from him unfairly, and yes, he was all of those things. But why did Ra’s care?

“I see. Would you describe him as a leader?”

“No. If anything, he’s a bully and a mama’s boy. Leaders need to be able to listen to others.” Where was he getting this? Damian was a kid, he could learn. He still had time.

“Interesting.” Ra’s rose from his chair and paced the edge of the room. Tim refused to look back and follow his movements. That would be a show of weakness, a drop of blood in a shark tank. “Detective, what do you have in Gotham? What do you have there that keeps you from dedicating yourself to your cause?”

Nothing.

Tim stifled a gasp as he thought of the instant response. Dick and Damian didn’t need him. Stephanie hadn’t called in months, even before Bruce died. Jason had tried to kill him, last they’d spoken. The Teen Titans were getting along just fine without him. Truthfully, the whispers were right. There was nothing left for him in Gotham. If there was, he would have stayed.

“Nothing.” The anymore went unsaid.

“Then I may have a proposal for you.” Ra’s eyes glowed a dangerous green. A pit formed in Tim’s stomach, as the last few vestiges of him that hadn’t sided with the voices screamed at him to just escape.

“Oh?” Tim responded, mouth bone-dry.

“Stay.”

And Tim’s world crumpled.

“Learn under my agents. Train to become better than you are. Continue your quest with my resources behind you. All you have to do is stay and work for me,” Ra’s smiled like a hunter who had just shot big game.

This was a terrible idea. Tim didn’t kill people, he refused. He was supposed to help people, not hurt them. But he couldn’t deny that feeling like he belonged again was incredibly enticing.

Tim opened his mouth, but Ra’s cut him off. “Your friend will not be harmed. I won’t even think about putting you on an assignment until you’re up to par with my best ninjas. I will not make this offer again.”

The voice that responded was not Tim’s own.

“Yes.”

Tim thought that six months of training with Bruce was brutal. Ha hadn’t known brutal until now.

His first day of training, he showed up in his Red Robin suit, now patched and reinforced where he had been stabbed.

The tall ninja that seemed to be in charge scoffed, then sent him away. Not fifteen minutes later, a tailor descended on Tim’s quarters with a tape measure and a face made of solid stone.

“Can’t have you looking like a target, all in red. What was Batman thinking?”

Maybe he wants them to be targets, Tim and the whispers thought in tandem. He balked at the thought, but the tailor’s firm hands kept him in place. What was he doing? Bruce had loved him, did love him. He had taken care of Tim when no one else would. Bile crawled through the back of Tim’s throat, but he swallowed it down.

The tailor finished her measurements and scanned Tim up and down.

“It will have to be black, of course. Reinforced joints, kevlar, the whole nine yards,” she stated in a lilting accent. “Maybe some green accents, dark ones. Classy. Half-mask, no more cowls or dominos.”

Red, yellow, and black were his colors and had been for years. A tribute to a boy he loved and lost then loved some more. But Conner was back now. And Tim was tired of mourning, especially when no one was dead. Well, except him.

“Green,” he agreed, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t Red Robin anymore, not really. And he could always wear the suit again. This wasn’t a finale, just a hiatus.

She nodded once and then swept away, leaving a teenager clutching the last thing he had of his old life. Tim folded the suit, the way Alfred had always chastised him for, and gingerly placed it in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. He wouldn’t need it anytime soon.

The next day, a precisely wrapped package sat outside Tim’s door bearing no signature. He knew exactly what it was.

Upon peeling back the paper, he saw the full glory of the new suit. It was midnight black, with dark green stitches that were beautiful up close, but would be near-invisible from far away. It looked like a cross between the ninjas’ garb and body armor--sleek and sure of itself. A hood was attached to the back of the neck, with the green stitching spelling out something Tim couldn’t discern. A half-mask with built in air filters covered the rest of the face. As he patted the suit down, he felt where all the separate compartments were for weapons and utilities. It reminded him a little of the costumes from high-tech spy movies.

Sitting on the floor with his new suit in his lap, Tim added another item to the long lists of debts he owed Ra’s al Ghul.

His first real day of training, Tim was beaten so badly he could hardly drag himself to his room.

It wasn’t that they had intended to hurt him, but he had gone almost a month without training. Bruises laced up his cheekbone like their own little domino mask, a little memento of times gone by. His joints screamed out in pain as he collapsed onto his bed. At least he hadn’t broken any bones. Or been stabbed. Or died.

Tim only had a few minutes to contemplate the stuntman funniest fails video that was his life when a gentle knock came from the door.

“Come in,” he groaned, flopping over onto his side so he could see his company. His mother would have scolded him for not standing up to greet a guest, but she didn’t have much sway from six feet under.

A girl with olive-tan skin and a brunette bun stepped into the threshold, her smile the gentlest thing he’d seen in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Aminta. I figured you could use some help with your wounds.” Her voice was lower than he expected, but pretty nonetheless. A dark, untraceable accent threaded through her words.

He peered up at her, frowning.

“Is this a hazing thing? Am I being hazed?”

She chuckled, then sat on the ottoman at the edge of his bed.

“Not hazing. The new recruits tend to help each other through the first few months. Safety in numbers and all that. I thought you might want some assistance.”

“So, you’re all friends?” That didn’t sound right.

“No,” she hesitated for a moment, “not exactly. Friends is too... common. We are assassins, but we have honor. When we need to, we take care of our own.”

Ah, so he was one of them now. For some indescribable reason, that didn’t fill him with as much dread as he thought it would.

You have no friends. You never did. Just those who you will rule and those who you will crush, the whispers added.

Tim smiled, the shy grin he used when he wanted teachers and Wayne Enterprises board members to underestimate him.

“Thank you, Aminta. I’d appreciate that. My name is Tim.”

She winked at him, clearly a joke.

“Believe me, I know.”

The League had a mole.

Or at least, they were going to. Tim had known enough corrupt businessmen in his time in Gotham’s upper echelon that he was well versed in the signs of someone double-dipping. At first it was little things: missing pieces of inventory, strange new guard shifts, incorrect mission intel. By the time it escalated to money being skimmed off the top of jobs, Ra’s was furious.

When he called Tim in for a meeting, something that was becoming increasingly normal these days, Tim was expecting fiery rage. Instead, there was steel-sharp cunning. It was a little like looking in a funhouse mirror.

“Detective, it appears that we have a liability in our ranks,” Ra’s began, his fingertips caressing a blade. “I assume you’ve read the data I sent to your quarters, and I’d like your thoughts.”

Tim cleared his throat. He had spent the night before reading the reports, putting together the pieces. If this was a test, it was a wicked one.

“The incidents began shortly after the attacks by the Widower. It’s a piece of misdirection intended to frame either Pru or I as a mole. However, neither of us has any reason for betrayal. Pru is, and has always been, loyal to the League. And you are well aware that I have nothing left for me in Gotham, nor would I be stupid enough to allow myself to get caught.” His voice was smooth, the prince of Gotham giving yet another speech.

“There is someone who has means, motive, and opportunity. After reading your files, it is incredibly clear. He has a family of his own that he is loyal to, and during my resurrection, he was not in the Cradle. His computer prowess would allow him to mess with the system in a way few others could. It would have been a very clean job, if he had spread it out over months or years instead of a few weeks.”

Ra’s stroked his goatee.

“You mean the Expediter.”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Ra’s rose from the desk and clasped his hands behind his back. “Now that we’ve established the perpetrator, it is time to establish the punishment.”

Ah, so here was the test. Ra’s wanted to see how ruthless Tim could be. It was a very good thing that Tim never failed an exam.

“Kill him. It will send a message to our other agents and whoever he worked for that we are not to be trifled with.” Tim’s hands shook, but his voice was full of conviction. He had always been a good actor, but it wasn’t clear how much was truth now.

“And his daughters?”

“Bring them to the Cradle. They’re young enough that they likely won’t remember him, and we’ll be able to shape their childhood. Perhaps one will become just as intelligent as her father, and wiser as well.” The whispers hissed wordlessly in disappointment, but it was worth it. Tim refused to order the execution of a child, no matter how loud the shrieking in his skull became.

There was a beat of dead silence, then Ra’s nodded sagely.

“Wise choice, Detective. I’ll put those orders into effect at once.” He smiled, his teeth gleaming as his dagger had. “I’m looking forward to the rest of our partnership.”

Oh, how the whispers laughed.

Life in the Cradle was, well, nice. Tim was training harder than he ever had, under much more strenuous conditions, yet he felt better than he ever had. He was stronger, for one thing, but for the first time since he’d discovered Batman and Robin’s identities, he was able to rest. He didn’t need to be up until dawn chasing people across rooftops or finishing reports or writing an essay for English class because he’d been too busy on patrol. Even in a den of killers, Tim felt almost safe.

That said, he refused to let his guard down. He’d sat in on meetings with the inner circle of the Cradle for months now, trying to use his famous brain for something important. Which for his purposes, meant destroying the League as best as possible.

That was the only reason he’d stayed, or at least that’s what he told himself during nights where he twisted and turned trying to justify his choices. He’d exploit the League’s generosity to train himself and find Bruce, then take it down. Bruce would have to be proud of him after that, they all would. Maybe he’d even be Robin again.

He’d already taken out the Expediter, Ra’s’ guy in the chair. The guy confessed to the mistake of having a family and trying to work for the League at the same time. Good thing Tim didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

This is good, but it is not enough. You crave more. Do not be a coward, take it.

Now Tim was the techie for an international assassin guild, which would look moderately impressive on a college resume. Maybe it could count as an internship. Ra’s seemed like the guy who would make a relatively okay reference when Harvard came calling.

It always felt strange when he had lunch with Ra’s. It was eerily similar to the fancy lunches his mom used to drag him to, or the etiquette classes he was forced to take where he learned how to properly use a melon baller. Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to be killed for using a melon baller wrong then. Now, he knew that any wrong move could result in death.

Not his own death, of course. There was no point in Ra’s bringing back Tim, just to kill him again. Tam, however, was expendable. And that made the marrow in Tim’s bones shiver.

This particular lunch was more focused on memory lane than shop talk.

“So, Detective, tell me: what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Tim swallowed hard around his tea sandwich, his throat suddenly painfully dry.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a clown. Not a great career path in Gotham,” he began, attempting to keep his voice light. Ra’s looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Then, I wanted to be a photographer. Then, my father said I would be a CEO or I’d be disowned, so I wanted to be a CEO. I could always do photography on the side, you know?

“And then I became Robin.” He let the weight of that sentence sink over the pair.

“So? What happened after that?”

Tim resisted the urge to stare at his sandwich, instead choosing to meet Ra’s’ bright green eyes.

“Then, I stopped thinking I would grow up.” There it was, the thing everyone had been trying to pry out of him for years.

“I mean, Dick barely made it out. Jason died, came back, went crazy, and now murders people for shits and giggles. Stephanie died, but only kinda. Damian’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide. In the wild, robins live for a year, maybe two if they’re lucky. I don’t think anyone realized how similar we all are to those stupid birds.” Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, but he didn’t need to cry. All that pain was gone now, replaced by something else. He couldn’t name it, but it kept all the sadness away.

Tim had been sad for his whole life. It was a relief when the roiling ocean inside him froze over. Numbness was an improvement.

Ra’s leaned across the table, his face barely a foot from Tim’s.

“You know, Detective, you remind me of myself. Not when I was young, of course, but when I had just begun to build my empire. All your life you have been told to quiet down and listen instead of speaking. You’re a fine leader because of it. You adapt when others are stubborn. You make plans while they push through without a second thought. You are a snake lying in wait, anticipating the right time to strike. I admire that.”

The air hung in silence as Ra’s stared directly into Tim’s soul.

“You know,” Ra’s finally said, “I think you could be truly great one day.”

Tim barely breathed as he nodded his thanks. When Ra’s finally leaned away, his first breath felt like the first gasp of air from a drowning victim.

“Before our lunch concludes, and I do so enjoy our lunches, I have a query for you.” This wasn’t out of the ordinary, Ra’s liked to give him riddles to keep him on his toes. “Some of our ninjas, though I will not say who, have gone rogue. A year or so ago, they got themselves caught up in some nasty business. My current intel places them here, in this compound, where they’re using innocents as collateral, should they not get what they request.”

“What do they want?”

“My head on a platter.” Ra’s’ smile was bloodchilling. “Oh, Detective? I feel it’s important to note: international news stations are currently reporting you and Ms. Fox as having been kidnapped by these rogues. Any advice on how to fix that?”

So this was the second test. Another chance to prove his loyalty. Let Ra’s’ enemies go free, or kill them and forfeit his old life for good in return.

“I assume extraction is not possible?”

“I’m afraid that those deserters are incredibly well trained. The special units from any nation’s army wouldn’t even make it into the compound. My ninjas could make it in, but there’s no way they could take out the traitors and save the civilians.”

Tim nodded, pretending to contemplate. He already knew his answer.

“Bomb the compound, kill everyone inside. It’s better to cut off the rot now than give it the chance to spread.”

Ra’s did not smile, but his eyes glimmered with pride.

“My thoughts exactly, Detective.”

And just like that, the death warrant was signed.

Tam was waiting in his chambers when Tim got home from a long day of training, his body littered in bruises and cuts that would sting tomorrow. Her crossed arms functioned as a hug, like she was the only thing keeping herself together.

“Tim,” she whispered when he came into view, the word like a prayer.

He glided across the room wordlessly, and she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“I managed to get someone to sneak me a newspaper. Th-They think we’re dead, Tim,” she said into his shoulder, words slightly muffled by the fabric.

His hand came up to stroke her hair, the way he used to comfort Cass after a particularly long day. Tim didn’t respond, and instead let her tears soak into his shirt.

Good. Now you have the element of surprise.

The Council of Spiders had a worthy namesake, as they were just as quick and deadly as any arachnid. Somehow they had crept past the League’s defenses, disabling the ninjas that got in their way. True to form, the assassins’ deaths were just as silent as they were--shadows fading out as dusk began to form.

Tim was preparing for another day of strategy and mind games when Aminta burst into the room.

“The Spiders are here. They managed to sneak in--no one knows how. You’re needed,” she gasped, as if she’d ran a marathon to deliver this message. Judging from her state of disarray, maybe she had.

“Tam?”

“I’ll protect her. Go!”

Tim didn’t have time to question these motives or worry about much more than tugging on his cowl and pulling out his bo staff. He sprinted out the door and into the madness, moving in a dangerous dance with the assassins he had trained alongside for the past few months. The League was good, great even. But with the element of surprise, the Spiders were better.

He couldn’t afford to think about what could happen if they lost. Failure was not an option, not anymore.

A shadow glided toward one of the empty hallways and away from the rest of the frenzy, a sword glinting in its hand. Something that had dug its claws deep in Tim’s bones pulled him toward the figure, urging him to follow. To finish the job.

If others saw red when enraged, Tim saw green.

The figure purposefully stalked toward the large office Tim had started to spend increasing amounts of time in. The footsteps were near-silent, but in his mind they echoed almost deafeningly loud.

The shadow had to know he was there. It had to. Tim was good, but a few months of training could never rival lifetimes.

The shadow glanced over its shoulder, a feline-esque smile on its face. It said something, probably a witty yet scathing remark, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of whispers in Tim’s mind.

Do it.

Finish the job.

Show them who you are, who you can be.

Prove yourself.

You are not a bird, you are not a bat.

You are a demon, and you do not know weakness.

Not a Robin, not Red.

You are Green, Green, Green.

Become who you were always destined to be, Detective.

Tim struck out with his bo staff, right into the shadow’s skull. It faltered, just for a millisecond, and that creature that was both Tim and not lashed out, quicker than it had any right to be. A dagger in his hand, sharpened to a razor-thin edge. He did not remember doing that. That same dagger, buried into deep tan flesh.

Then he was across the room, bones aching from being thrown into the stone wall. If he was still human, still able to rein in whatever was drowning out his senses, he would know to expect pain tomorrow. But he didn’t, and all he felt was the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

And he was up again, throwing himself at the shadow with the conviction of a greek hero who knew that this fight would be his last. A fist full of rings connected with his cheek, and he could feel the skin tear beneath the metal. Maybe it would even scar.

The shadow leaned heavily to one side, though whether it was from the stab placed between its ribs or a prior injury, Tim didn’t know. It lurched toward him, and he stabbed it again, this time twisting the dagger until he felt the give of a lung. The shadow was down now, and deep down Tim knew that he never should have beaten it, never should have landed a single blow. In a logical world, Tim would have lost ten times over. But in a logical world, Tim would have been dead for the past six months.

As if time was in slow motion but he was at normal speed, Tim glided through the seconds, pushing pressure points with the tip of his blade. The shadow’s sword lay across the hall, too far out of reach for retaliation. This wasn’t torture, but it was revenge--for pain and sacrifice and nights spent clawing at his own skin, wishing it still felt like his. Payback for months of sins he never would have committed, for the green that clouded his vision. But most of all, it was a promise.

After minutes that held years of heartwrenching pain, Tim delivered the killing blow, straight under the shadow’s chin and into its brain. He was covered in blood, tacky and rust-toned, but where a past Tim--a lesser Tim--would have balked or vomited at the sight, this Tim stood, cleaned off his blade, and hefted the cooling corpse onto his shoulder.

They can try to revive it with the Lazarus Pit. You cannot allow that to happen. You cannot fail, the whispers urged, but he no longer needed them. They were him and he was them. Green in every breath and thought.

Tim escaped into the desert and finished the job, just as he had always been taught to do. Ra’s would have been proud. Bruce would have been proud.

That night, after the Spiders had been exterminated and the mess cleaned up, Tim sat at the foot of his bed, staring at his hands. The ninjas had looked at him with what could be called pride when he staggered back into the fray, his face bruised and bloody and sporting a wound on his thigh. His silky clothes brushed past the injuries every few seconds, but he couldn’t muster the energy to wince, even though he knew he should.

Tam had managed to hide during the clash, and Aminta had kept her promise. Tim liked people who followed through.

After being given the all clear, he stumbled back to his room to wash out his wounds and scrub the smell of smoke off his skin.

He had only just changed into his silky clothes when a knock came at the door. Without waiting for a response, the White Ghost was in Tim’s room, staring down at the teenager with an unnameable expression on his face.

“Timothy Drake,” the man said by way of greeting.

Tim glanced at him and blinked owlishly, but did not respond.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

This gripped Tim’s attention, and he finally made eye contact with the assassin, his brow creasing in concern.

“You’re going to revive him, right? He told me that you have more Lazarus Pits near here, he can use one of those. How did he die?” A million scenarios raced through Tim’s head, films of the death of the Demon.

“They burned him on a pyre and left him in his study. No trace of cause of death, and we can’t revive him. Any DNA has been destroyed.”

Tim stared blankly, processing. The Demon’s Head, the invincible Ra’s al Ghul, was dead. Gone forever.

“Ra’s made plans, should he die,” the White Ghost continued. “Those plans include a new leader of the League of Shadows. And that leader is you.”

Tim sputtered, “What? You can’t be serious. I’m seventeen years old. Why not you? Or Talia or Nyssa? Or Damian?”

“I do not make light of these things. He said you, so it is you. I am the White ghost. He had not contacted his daughters in years, and his grandson is too unpredictable to be suited to the position. You are the Demon’s Head, Timothy Drake.”

Tim stared back numbly. He was the Demon’s Head. The Cradle was his, these assassins were his, the world was his. He wanted power, and now it had fallen into his lap. The White Ghost kneeled before him and bowed his head. “I will serve you, Timothy Drake, in whatever way you see fit. I will be your eyes and ears and hands. I will obey you and carry out your orders. I pledge my allegiance to you, and only to you.” Satisfied with his vow, he rose to his full height.

Tim swallowed hard, then looked back up. “I accept your vow and thank you for your loyalty.” Then, “When… When will the rest know?”

“Tomorrow, at noon. I thought it might be best for everyone to rest, and for you to know first. We can discuss further details tomorrow morning, but for now, know who you are.”

Tim nodded stiffly and pushed himself to his feet, straightening his spine the way his mother had taught him to. He had been raised to become a prince of Gotham, one of the pretty boys that graced magazine covers and made headlines at charity events. Now, he was a king of assassins, an emperor of the underworld. If only she could see him now. Maybe she’d even be proud of him, for once.

“Thank you, White Ghost. We will speak again tomorrow. Should there be any issues during the night, I would like for you to inform me immediately.” He may be clad in silk pyjamas, but there was leadership in every fiber of his being. The whispers hissed in agreement.

“Fadir Nasser. My name is Fadir Nasser. Long live the Demon’s Head,” the White Ghost--Fadir--said as he left the room, the last remark stinging with a hint of a joke.

The door locked shut behind him, and Tim flopped backward onto the bed, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His gaze fell to the closet, where his suit was stuffed in the corner, smelling of smoke and burning flesh and the irony tang of blood. The whispers quickly supplied a description of the events, but Tim could picture them clear as day--carrying Ra’s to the desert, building and lighting a pyre, then bringing the body back and placing it in Ra’s’ study for someone to find. It was incredibly simple, almost too simple for no one to have done before. But Tim was Green, Greener than anyone had ever been before. And no one would ever know.

He’d need to invest in a new suit befitting his new role, maybe bring back some green accents. He no longer needed to mourn Conner. He no longer needed to mourn at all. He was the Demon’s Head, and he would never die.

The whispers laughed cruelly, like the audience of a poorly-written tragedy.

The transition of power wasn’t smooth, but it was quick. Assassins weren’t particularly known for their loyalty, and Fadir made it clear that any dissenters wouldn’t even make it to the door. They only had to clean blood off the stone floors once before that lesson sunk in.

As far as coups go, it was pretty successful. The whispers had quieted, just a little. Tim could sometimes make it hours without the hissing in the back of his mind, reminding him that he couldn’t rest. With power comes paranoia, and Tim was intimately familiar with both.

Now to rid himself of liabilities.

It had been a particularly lucid day, and Tim’s near-silent footsteps were the only hint of noise in the hallway. Tam had been given the option to move her room closer to his, but had refused. He didn’t blame her, it was hard being the civilian favorite of the assassin king. Tim knew this well.

Tim knocked on the wooden door, two quick raps. Somewhere deep in his memory, he wondered if this would have been his life, had everything been different; maybe he’d be knocking on Tam’s door before picking her up for a date. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, put on the shy smile Tam thought was his true one, and waited for her. Shuffling on the other side of the door, then a creak as it swung open. Tim glided in, and Tam looked at him with those big brown eyes, her expression tainted with a touch of fear. He didn’t remember her ever being afraid of him before.

“Do you want to go home?” Tim asked. No preamble, just his soft question in the quiet room.

Tam didn’t even think about it first.

“Yes.”

Tim nodded, then drew out a one-way ticket to Archie Goodwin International Airport, leaving tomorrow night. He held it out to her, that soft smile on his face and a promise in his eyes.

Tam tentatively took it, but kept looking at him. “Are you serious?”

“You’re not a prisoner. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you leave earlier, I just wanted to make sure the League was stable first. My intention was always to get you home.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim slipped his hands in his pockets. “You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy.”

Tam pulled him into a hug, and for a second it felt so nice it almost hurt. Then it was over, and he could be comfortably numb again.

“Aminta will be coming with you, just to make sure you get home safe. Once you’re with your family, you won’t have to see any of my… agents ever again.”

Tam nodded, her face screwed up in an effort to keep from crying. He turned to leave and give her privacy, then paused.

“Tam? Thank you. For being my friend.”

Then the king of shadows disappeared into the night, yet again.

Tim frowned at the wall, a small comms unit tucked in his ear. He hadn’t moved from this room in a day, not since Tam and Aminta left.

“Okay, Aminta, I need you to keep close. You said that it’s just Batman and Robin? No Batgirl?”

“Just Batman and Robin. They haven’t spotted me yet. Robin’s really fallen behind since leaving us.”

Tim growled under his breath and carded a hand through his hair. It was getting long again. Who did Ra’s go to for haircuts? Did he just do it himself?

Focus.

The facts were these: Tam had been contacted by Batman and Robin immediately after Lucius Fox gave word that she was home safe. Tim had been expecting this, and Aminta was sent to follow Tam and ensure that the interaction went favorably. Which is to say that no one killed Tam because of what she knew. Aminta was currently hidden on the same rooftop as Gotham’s favorite heroes, listening in on their rendez-vous.

“What’s happening? Report.”

“She’s telling them--why don’t I just play their conversation? I have the capability.”

“Do it.”

A crackling came over Tim’s comm unit for a few brief seconds before it shifted to three familiar voices.

“It’s okay, Tam. Just tell us everything. From the beginning.” That was Dick. He sounded the exact same way he had when Tim left, tired and a little pained. Serves him right. “Yeah, okay,” there was Tam’s voice, slightly higher pitched than normal. “So my dad sent me to find out where Tim Drake was. And I managed to track him down to Iraq. So I’m in my hotel room one night, and I wake up to someone putting a cloth on my nose. Then everything went black, and the next thing I knew I was in this cold stone room. Then this albino guy tells me to stand up and we walk into this big hallway and there’s Tim. And he’s all sweaty and looks super freaked out. Then they brought us to these bedrooms and told us that we’d be staying a while.”

“Why would they take you?” A third voice asked, the snobby tone immediately registering as Damian. The brat.

“I’m not sure. Maybe my search for Tim sent up some flags? No one ever told me.” Her voice cracked a little, and maybe once upon a time, Tim would have felt sorry for her. Not anymore.

“It’s okay, Tam. After you moved into the Cradle, what happened?”

“Tim spent a lot of time training or with Ra’s. He couldn’t tell me much, but apparently Ra’s took a liking to him. One of the inner circle guys turned out to be a traitor, so Tim took his job. I didn’t see him a lot.”

“Who was the traitor?” Damian again, with a hint of anger in his voice. Or was that fear?

“Some computer guy. The Executioner or something.”

“The Expeditor?” It was definitely fear in Damian’s voice. He sounded like a child when he was scared.

“Yeah, him. I just hung around for the most part. They had books. They gave me makeup and nail polish when I asked for it. I was bored, but never threatened.” Tim snorted. Tam knew more than anyone that just because she didn’t have a knife to her neck didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger every moment of the day.

Dick cleared his throat, then spoke again, “Why did Ra’s let you leave?”

Tam went quiet, just for a second.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

A beat of silence. Tim would have paid millions to watch them right now.

“How?” Damian, his voice filled with fear, and maybe a little pain.

“I-I don’t know. There was an attack by the Council of Spiders. Tim had them lock me in my room with a guard. Some of the girls I talked to said that Ra’s was burned afterward so they couldn’t revive him. No one knew until the day after.” Tam’s voice was shaking now.

“Then where’s Tim?” Dick asked, finally caring about his younger brother after all this time. What a joke.

Tam stuttered a few times, but eventually got the words out. “Tim… Tim’s the new leader. Ra’s named him his heir before he died.”

A hiss sounded over the comms. That had to be Damian.

“Thank you, Tam. I appreciate you answering our questions. You know where to find us if you remember anything else.”

Some shuffling obscured any new words, then Aminta’s voice appeared. “They’re leaving, do you want me to follow them?”

“Yes,” Tim responded, massaging his temples. The whispers were getting louder now, to a point where it was impossible to understand any one message. It was hard when they got like this, harder than when they teamed up. At least then he didn’t feel like a helpless teacher in a rowdy classroom.

Maybe a minute ticked by before Aminta was back. “They just went a few rooftops away. Robin’s clutching Batman’s cape and crying, but it’s like angry crying. He’s mumbling something, but I can’t understand it. Batman’s rubbing his back, but he looks miserable too. Less angry, more sad.”

“That’ll be all, Aminta, thank you. You can return home tomorrow,” Tim sighed. “Our dear friend Tam has done us a favor, so we should be ready for the consequences.”

“What favor? Telling them everything?”

“Not everything. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

“What advantage could we possibly have, other than knowing that they know?”

“Tam didn’t tell them about my little swim.”

Somewhere, there was a universe where Timothy Drake-Wayne woke up on the morning of his 18th birthday and put on a suit, ready for a day of meetings at whatever company he was interning for before he started college. Maybe he had a party with his family or a date that night. This is what Tim thought about as he busied himself getting ready. He had never been one for birthdays. Jack and Janet were rarely home, and even when they were in Gotham, they had better things to do than celebrate a child. He didn’t blame them. Before he came to the Cradle, he wasn’t worth celebrating.

The ornate mirror in his bathroom showcased his attire: a loose-fitting white shirt, tailored brown silk pants, and a dark green cape that almost resembled snakeskin. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he left them. They made the blue stand out. Here was the heir Ra’s had craved so badly. The old Tim would have made a joke about how he looked like a dark prince from a young adult novel, but not anymore. He was the Demon’s Head now. No, not just its head. He was its hands and heart as well. Tim Drake was a demon through and through.

His guests had landed in Iraq the day before, and he had it on good authority that he could expect them that evening.

Tim drifted around the room, preparing for the meeting as one would prepare for battle. His fingertips lingered on the rings he had inherited from his predecessor, and with a deliberate movement he chose the signet ring Ra’s used to wear. He slipped it on and smiled to himself, a snake poised to strike.

Carefully, he patted his wrists, hips, and ankles to ensure his knives were still there. He had always favored batarangs, but he was no longer a bat or a bird. He had left them behind, just as they had left him.

The White Ghost was waiting at his door, ready to escort him to his study. As they walked, Tim absentmindedly ran his thumb over his knuckles. The whispers hissed inaudibly in his ear, wailing for attention.

“Has the room been secured?” He asked, face neutral.

“Yes. I have placed ninjas along the walls and at every access point. Any familiar with the al Ghul child have been sent on missions abroad, though they remain loyal to you.”

“They leave here alive. If they attempt to attack, I want them subdued but not killed.”

“That’s not wise. It will be seen as a show of weakne-”

“Do you think I am weak?” Tim’s voice was as ice cold as he felt.

“No, of course not,” Fadir backpedaled. “But how can you justify it?”

“By the time I’m done, there will be no need to kill them. This is just a courtesy call, a reminder that my prior allegiances are no longer viable.”

Tim swept into the study, his back straight and his jaw square just the way he had always been taught. From birth, he had been raised to be a prince of Gotham, one of the many pretty boys in suits who graced Forbes covers before they could legally drink. He had been bred for greatness, and he achieved it in his own way. Here, no one would ever best him. He was finally free.

Soon you will have everything. All you have to do is make one order.

Tim’s hands shook slightly, but he tightened his grip on his fountain pen as he sat down. The day was full of reports, requests for missions, and invoices. He had been doing most of this paperwork anyway when he was just a lackey, so it wasn’t an inconvenience. It was methodical in its ruthlessness. $750k for a political assassination in France, 40% taken for the League, the rest wired to a private bank account in the Cayman Islands. $25k to kill a cheating spouse in South Africa, the same 40%, and this time headed for a Swiss bank account. A request for a league member to “take care of” an abuser, which Tim set aside. An invoice for new training blades, as the older ones had been dulled. A new Lazarus Pit that was discovered in Iceland.

The sun began to sink outside of his window, and Tim collected himself, drawing the last shards of who he used to be away from the surface. That Tim was dead and gone, and in his place was someone who was finally worthy. If the old Tim was a bleeding heart, this Tim was the knife that stabbed it.

Fadir knocked on the large oak door to signal that their guests had arrived. Tim pushed himself out from behind the desk, pulled back his shoulders, and stalked out of the room, refusing to look back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t show any weakness--it was that he wasn’t weak at all. Not anymore.

Tim walked down the now-familiar hallways, the whispers humming in happiness as others averted their eyes respectfully as he passed by. Aminta stood at the left hand of the large stone throne in the formal hall, and dipped her head in greeting when he approached. Tim took his place on the throne, relaxing into the smooth stone. Fadir took the right-hand side, his hand on his sword’s pommel at all times.

Ninjas lined the walls, all ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Most had been training for decades, long before Tim was even a thought. And now they served him. One lone ninja entered the room, first bowing to Tim and then scurrying up to the throne.

“They have arrived, sir.”

Tim grinned darkly.

“Bring them in.”

Dick looked older than he had eight months ago. His cowl was pulled up to hide his face, but Tim could see it in the set of his jaw. For a man in his late twenties, Dick looked positively weary.

Serves him right.

Damian was stiff, both an heir and a stranger in a child’s body. He glanced at the ninjas placed around the edge of the room, as if searching for a familiar face. He wouldn’t find one.

Tim did not smile when the man he had once considered his brother approached.

“Hello Dick. Damian.” His voice was colder than he ever thought it could be. “You can remove your masks, everyone here knows who you are.” Or they did now.

Dick hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pulled off the cowl. Damian followed suit with a grumble, peeling off his domino.

Satisfied, Tim smoothed a neutral expression onto his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, the words pleasant but the tone as sharp as a blade.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” Dick burst out without preamble. It was a shame that he couldn’t exchange pleasantries, even after all of Alfred’s lessons.

“Not exactly. I was in Paris for a bit, caught up with some old friends.” An old friend, one who probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone. None of them had.

You are powerful because you are alone. Others would betray you. You can trust no one. The whispers chimed in, though they were merely repeating what he already knew to be true.

Damian hissed his displeasure, which earned him an evil look from Dick. Look, he’d already been replaced.

“Tim,” Dick began in a gentle voice, the one he used for scared kids. “Come home. We can figure this out. We’ll get you help, maybe even try that therapist I told you about. Or we can shop around, it doesn’t matter. I miss you. I miss my little brother.”

How pathetic.

“Oh, I believe you misunderstood. This is a business meeting, not an intervention,” Tim hummed, examining his fingernails. The cold steel of the knives tucked in his sleeves was a delicious reminder of who he was, who he had always been destined to become.

“In that case, I believe some clarification is in order. Following the death of Ra’s al Ghul, I became the head of the League of Shadows, a position I am very proud of. I will not be returning to Gotham, unless it is for League business, and I will certainly never fight at your side again.

“In truth, Dick, I have not thought about you or your brat once since coming to stay at the League. I understand that our previous relationship may have led you to believe that I would be a naive fool forever, but that is not the case. I have found meaning now more than you could ever dream of achieving.

“Here is my proposition: I will cease training of any assassins younger than age sixteen immediately. I am also currently updating how the League accepts jobs to minimize the amount of innocent casualties. I will waive all rights to Wayne Enterprises, though anything Bruce willed to me will remain mine. In exchange, you leave me and my assassins alone. You will not contact me unless seeking my services. You can keep your Robin, but he lost his birthright a year ago. These are my conditions, and they are non-negotiable.”

The chatty Dick Grayson was speechless. Instead, it was Damian who spoke.

“You stole my birthright.” For a child, he sounded downright murderous.

Tim smiled. “And you stole mine. I believe that makes us even.”

The child nodded, then drew his sword. Along the walls, ninjas drew theirs as well.

“Damian, no!” Dick hissed, glaring at his brother-ward. “Tim, you can’t be serious. We’re family. This is insane!”

Tim’s expression did not display the glee that bubbled in his chest.

“We were family. But you know what they say, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He dismissed Dick’s other accusations with a wave of his hand. “I have given you my terms. You have forty-eight hours to make your decision. Until then, I believe you have overstayed your welcome. You should leave.”

Green pulled at the corners of his vision as the whispers shrieked, begging him to go ahead and kill them. He couldn’t, of course, that would just invite more prying eyes to the League. But he could think about it, and that was enough.

Dick and Damian were almost at the doors when Dick stopped and turned to face Tim, his posture teenagerishly defiant.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he spat, as if Dick Grayson had ever truly known Timothy Drake.

Instead, Tim smiled. “I’m the Demon. And you should leave before I make you see Hell.”

A second later, they were gone. Watching them go felt like getting an injection--the pinch lasted for a second, but afterward there was no pain at all.

Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon, the whispers howled as Tim’s blood sang, welcome to your kingdom come.

His hands had always been cold. Ariana used to comment on it all the time--how his touch was borderline freezing. At the time, it had been a running joke: Tim Drake, the boy made of snow, with eyes made of ice and snow-pale skin. It seemed now that even in the heat of the desert, his heart had frozen too.

Nighttime was comfortable in the desert, at least for someone accustomed to Gotham’s climate. Still, the breeze that danced across Tim’s skin left goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t remember when he’d come out here, let alone what for. He barely even noticed how he gripped the banister of the balcony until his knuckles went stark white.

A little prickle of emotion prodded at his subconscious, but he couldn’t identify it even if he wanted to. There was no room for feelings anymore, if there had ever been. If anything, feelings had gotten him into more messes than out of them.

He had become a vigilante because he felt that Batman needed a Robin. He worshiped the ground Bruce walked on because he felt like Bruce saw him as a son. He broke the rules for Stephanie because he felt as if she could love him. He wanted to be with Conner because he felt that someone finally saw him for who he was. He rejected power time and time again because he felt that it was the right thing to do.

But feelings meant nothing. All that truly mattered was knowledge and wanting. And Tim knew more than ever. And he wanted it all.

Once, he had considered them his family. They had loved him, maybe, but they had never known him. He used to believe in a future spent fighting by their side, but he knew that was a child’s dream now--the same child who believed that he wouldn’t live to see twenty-one. Tim had no such concerns now.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the League was his new family, nor did he need one. But they would not underestimate him or take him for granted. Here, he had respect and power, and that was enough.

The lights of the nearest city glimmered far on the horizon, promising happiness and gaiety somewhere in the night. He smiled, a secret only for him.

One day, you will rule it all, the whispers promised. One day, you will be king. And you will destroy any who stand in your way.

-- -- --

“Annie, seriously, I will literally burn your iPad to ashes if you’re not ready to go in two minutes.” Blaine calls into the apartment, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to fend off his building headache.

“You know burning it will just mean you have to buy me another one. I need it for school. That’s a wasted threat.” Bethany snarks as she walks down the hallway toward her brother. 

Blaine sighs and looks up at the ceiling. Praying for patience?

“Fine, I will put a parental lock on it so all you can do is go on school approved apps.” He amends and the twelve-year-old in front of him narrows her eyes.

“You wouldn’t.” She says.

“I totally would. But since you’re here now, I won’t have to.” He says.

Bethany keeps her eyes narrowed, as if considering calling Blaine’s bluff, but she sighs as well, “You’re so over-dramatic sometimes.” She says with an eye roll that has become less affectionate and more sassy as she’s grown into an almost teenager, “I just have to put my shoes on.”

“Thank you. I was supposed to be at the coffee shop ten minutes ago.” Blaine reminds her as she does up the laces of her running shoes.

Bethany straightens and raises her eyebrows, “Well look at that, I’m ready to go.”

“Thank you.” Blaine says again, deciding not to comment on her attitude. He just needs to leave.

He holds the door open for her and the pair make their way down the hall toward the elevator.

-- -- --

Kurt feels his breath catch as the dark haired boy that has just entered the coffee shop makes his way toward his table. He sits a little straighter and tries to calm his reaction as the other boy gets closer.

“Hey.” Kurt smiles, “You must be Quintin.” He says.

The boy, Quintin, smiles a big toothy grin that reveals dimples in his cheeks, “Hey, yeah! Which must make you Kurt?” Quintin says with a questioning eyebrow quirk. Kurt nods and Quintin sighs, “Oh good. Sam said you were gorgeous but he didn’t say you were THIS gorgeous. I thought I might have gotten the wrong table.” 

Kurt feels his stomach flutter at the line, and even though it’s a slightly cheesy line...he’ll allow it.

“Well, Sam told me you were the hottest thing since sliced bread.” Kurt laughs.

Quintin scrunches his nose adorably, “Yeah, that’s actually exactly what he said to me about you, too.”

The pair laugh for a moment before they both look at each other with soft smiles, “Well, I’m just going to go grab myself a drink and then we can chat?” Quintin says, gesturing to the counter.

Kurt nods with a smile and Quintin leaves to join the line. Kurt watches him go before sighing. Quintin does seem adorable, and he’s definitely gorgeous, so maybe Kurt CAN do this. Everything in him has been telling him not to do this since Sam brought it up last week but now, in this moment, Kurt is willing to give it a shot.

What’s the worst that could happen?

-- -- --

Blaine sighs as he makes his way into the Lima Bean. He quickly heads behind the counter and catches up with Lauren who is making a latte at the machine, “I’m so sorry, Lauren. Bethany was...we had trouble…” He sighs, “I’m sorry.” He says again instead of excusing his tardiness.

Lauren eyes him as she pulls the lever to steam milk, “If you weren’t my best employee this would be a big deal.” She says, “Are you and Bethany going to be able to make this work?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

Blaine swallows thickly at her question. He knows she’s asking simply if he can make it to work on time in the future and he nods to let her know that yes they can, but he can’t help but think about the larger meaning of that question.

Can he and Bethany make all of this work anymore? 

As he does up his apron and takes his place at the register with a forced smile at his next customer, he’s not so sure they can.

Chapter One

Three Years Ago…

Reality is an interesting thing. No matter how much you may want to ignore it, it bites you in the ass eventually.

For Kurt and Blaine, that reality comes the July after they graduate high school.

Far sooner than either of them expected or wanted.

Kurt shakes his head as he looks at the other boy sitting across from him on his bed, “I’m sorry, what?”

Blaine swallows and looks down at the duvet, plucking at it with his fingers, “Bethany and I aren’t going to New York.” He whispers.

Kurt blinks in surprise, opening and closing his mouth several times as he tries to come up with something to say, “But...you said you were.” He finally lands on, but the sentence seems wholly inadequate.

Blaine sighs, “I know but...Bethany all but revolted when I suggested it.” He looks at Kurt with pleading eyes. Eyes asking him to understand, “I’ve already moved her once. I can’t ask her to do it again.”

“Yes, you can!” Kurt exclaims, “You’re the parent in this situation. You have the authority.”

“But I’m not, am I!” Blaine suddenly yells, “I’m not the parent. I’m her brother. I have no idea what I’m doing and I definitely don’t have the ‘authority’,” He says with sarcastic air quotes, “to make her move across the country just because I want to follow my boyfriend to college.”

Kurt pouts his lips, more than a little hurt by Blaine’s words but trying not to show it, “But you wouldn’t be following me. New York is your dream.”

Blaine shakes his head, “Dreams change. I have Bethany to think about now.”

Kurt presses his lips together and nods, shifting his gaze from Blaine to the floor. He can feel tears prickling behind his eyes and wills them to not come, “So, um,” He coughs, “What does this mean for us?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Blaine says and Kurt’s eyes snap back to the other boy’s face, “Well, okay, we’ll be living apart for a while.” He amends, “But we can make it work! Lots of couples do.”

Kurt feels everything inside himself sink. In the years to come, he’ll blame his youth and naivety on the fact that he’d felt a flare of hope when Blaine had started talking, but at the moment the abrupt change in emotion has left him dizzy. He’s not sure whether he wants to cry, scream, or both.

Blaine is looking at him hopefully, almost desperately, and Kurt hates those eyes in this moment. He hates that he loves them so much, he hates that looking into them reminds him of every good thing that has happened to him over the past ten months, and he hates that looking into them makes him want to agree with whatever arrangement Blaine may propose for the next four years of their lives at least.

...It’s that last thought that gives him pause, however. Something suddenly occurs to him that he’s known for months but had momentarily forgotten. This something had filled him with joy and contentment for months but has suddenly turned sour.

He narrows his eyes slightly at Blaine and says in an even tone, “You accepted NYU’s offer.”

Blaine’s eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t offer anything beyond opening and closing his mouth several times, no sound coming out. Despite his lack of answer, or maybe because of it, Kurt feels his anger rise.

“You applied. You got an acceptance letter. A week before mine. And you accepted. I was there when you did.” Kurt needlessly reminds him. Blaine swallows from the bed, “When did you decide you weren’t going?” He asks.

Blaine swallows thickly, before shrugging and letting out a humourless laugh, “It doesn’t matter.” He says.

Kurt’s eyes narrow further, “When did you decide you weren’t going?” He asks again.

“Before I accepted the offer.” Blaine whispers to the duvet.

“Then why did you accept it?” Kurt yells and Blaine flinches.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” He defends, “And then I was going to tell you but then you got your acceptance letter and you were so excited and I couldn’t do that to you.”

“You lied to me!” Kurt yells, “You’ve been lying to me for months!”

“I…” Blaine starts but Kurt keeps going, not giving him a chance to respond.

“You’re always lying to me!” He exclaims and Blaine pulls up short, his eyes widening at the unexpected words.

“What…?” He asks.

Kurt starts to pace, “You have literally lied to me for most of the time we’ve known each other. How can I be sure that everything you’ve told me isn’t a lie?”

Blaine’s eyes pinch, “Kurt, I…”

“Get out.” Kurt whispers, crossing his arms over his chest, tightly, as if the move will hold him together.

“Kurt…” Blaine starts again but is once again interrupted.

“Get out!” Kurt screams, pointing at the door, his cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. He feels embarrassment over having believed anything this boy has ever said.

Blaine jumps slightly and rises from the bed. He puts his hands up in surrender and backs up, “Okay, I’ll leave. We can talk about this later.”

Kurt sniffs and suddenly realizes he’s crying. He wipes angrily at his nose - he doesn’t want to cry right now, or at least not until Blaine GETS. OUT.

“There won’t be a later.” He whispers.

“Don’t say that.” Blaine whispers back.

Kurt glares at the other boy, “I’ll say whatever I damn well please. And just to be clear, even though *I* have never lied to *you*, I'm not lying about this. Get out, Blaine. Enjoy your life with Bethany. We’re done.”

Blaine’s eyes are wide as he stares at Kurt, who diverts his eyes and stares at his bed. He can’t handle looking at Blaine anymore. He’s not sure if he’s more angry or sad at the moment, but what he does know is that he needs to figure that out without the other boy there.

He sees from the corner of his eye as Blaine backs slowly toward the door of his bedroom. He sees him hesitate at the door and Kurt is about to tell him again to get out, when Blaine’s moving again - out of the door and out of Kurt’s life.

-- -- --

Present Day…

Kurt had spent three days in his bed after that afternoon, refusing to talk to anyone about what had happened (or about anything at all). He’d finally opened up to  his father when Burt became so distraught by Kurt’s behaviour that Kurt feared another heart attack.

When he’d moved to New York that August, he promised his dad he would make an effort to live his life to the fullest, and while the first few months had been especially hard, Kurt had finally started to move on. He started making new friends, joining clubs at school, and even eventually going on a few dates. In his three years in New York, however, he has yet to enter a relationship with anyone and the slight pang in his chest as his date for the afternoon sits opposite him with a smile reminds him of why.

“So,” Quintin says, “tell me more about yourself? Sam says you used to be in show choir together?”

The pair spend the afternoon in companionable conversation. Kurt finds himself blushing slightly at some of the things Quintin says and when Quintin says, with what appears to be a regretful sigh, that he needs to get to a study group, Kurt finds himself wondering when they can see each other again.

“Are you free on Friday?” Kurt asks.

Quintin smiles, “What did you have in mind?”

-- -- --

Blaine had spent three days after leaving Kurt’s that afternoon warring within himself. Part of him wanted to call Kurt and beg him to work this out but the other part of him, the part that eventually won out, was angry and hurt by Kurt’s comments. 

The fact that Kurt had thrown Blaine’s omissions and falsehoods when they first met at him during their fight had knocked the wind out of Blaine. He never imagined Kurt would have harboured any anger or mistrust because of that. Blaine had thought Kurt had understood why he’d done what he’d done.

He also felt an almost overwhelming sadness and loss but he didn’t have what he considered the luxury of wallowing in it. He had Bethany to support and so, while on the inside he felt numb, on the outside he had to keep moving forward. He applied to Lima Community College and got a job at the Lima Bean. He did everything he could think of to keep himself distracted. 

He had hoped, somewhat in vain, that Bethany wouldn’t notice that Kurt stopped coming around, but even if she wasn’t the most intuitive nine-year-old in the world, it was stupid to think she wouldn’t.

“What’s going on with you and Kurt?” She’d asked one night a week after their fight.

Blaine shook his head while drying the pan from dinner, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Annie.” He said. He brought a hand to his chest to stop the physical ache he could feel at the mention of his name.

Bethany narrowed her eyes at him and pouted her lips but when Blaine gave her a shrug and looked away, she sighed and stalked out of the room. 

She didn’t bring up Kurt again after that and Blaine hadn’t known whether to feel grateful or more heartbroken because of it. He and his sister had started to gradually drift apart after that, and while Blaine tries to play it off as preteen hormones on his sister’s part, he knows deep down there’s more to it, and it’s definitely not one-sided.

“Blaine!” Blaine is jerked from his thoughts by the sharp yell of his boss. He shakes his head to clear it of thoughts of Kurt only to realize he’s spilled half a coffee pot on the floor.

“Oh my God, Lauren, I’m so sorry!” He says, already reaching for a rag to start cleaning up.

Lauren lets out an exasperated sigh and waves him off, “Go home, Blaine.” She says, not unkindly but with authority, “Just...go home and get your head together and come back tomorrow.” She says.

Blaine’s stomach drops at the dismissal. She may not be firing him (even he thinks she probably should at this point) but to be reminded of how much his life really isn’t working right now is like a punch to the gut.

“Okay.” He whispers, dejectedly, before taking off his apron. As he leaves, he turns back to see Lauren and Garret, the other employee working, setting about cleaning up Blaine’s mess.

If only Blaine could clean up his own mess…

Chapter Two

Blaine’s not really one for fate and destiny. Maybe he had been once upon a time, but as his twenty-first birthday approaches he feels like he no longer believes in all that. He’s been forced, over the years, to become too practical and level-headed.

He’s also not a big fan of coincidence. Which is why, as his car’s check engine light flares to life on his dashboard on his way home from work and something within the car begins to make a very unhealthy whirring noise, he wants to growl when he notices what business is just up ahead. Clearly SOMEONE out there believes in fate, destiny, and coincidence.

He sighs as he turns into the parking lot of Hummel Tires and Lube and prays, as he gets out of the car, that Burt Hummel decided to take today off. Blaine makes his way into the shop and curses under his breath when he notices the tall figure of Finn Hudson standing at the counter. He hadn’t thought about him. Maybe Finn won’t recognize him.

Any hopes of not being recognized are dashed when Finn’s eyes widen when they land on Blaine and he puts down the phone he’d been fiddling with. Blaine is the only customer in the room (why can’t there be more people in the room?), “Blaine?” Finn says in awe and confusion.

Blaine coughs and decides to take this like a man. Just because he hasn’t seen any of Kurt’s family in three years doesn’t mean this has to be awkward, “Hi Finn.” He says, approaching the desk.

Finn shakes his head, “This is such a small world!” Finn exclaims.

Blaine gives a tight smile and nods, “My car’s check eng…” He tries to explain why he’s here but clearly Finn isn’t done with their reunion.

“Does Burt know you were coming?” Blaine’s eyebrows furrow, why would Burt know he was coming?, “He’ll be so excited that you’re here! Burt!” Finn calls into the back of the shop and Blaine panics.

“Finn, seriously, I just want…” But he’s once again interrupted.

“How long has it been? Three years? What have you been up to? Burt keeps saying how he’s mad you haven’t called or come over.” Finn’s rapid fire speech is leaving Blaine a little dizzy.

Yes, it has been three years. What has he been up to? Trying to stay above water. Burt’s mad he hasn’t called? He finds that the most confusing thing of all. Why would his ex-boyfriend’s father care that he hasn’t called? 

Blaine suddenly feels like this was a bad idea. He should have kept driving to another mechanic in town and stayed as far away from here as possible. His day is going from bad to worse.

“Well if it isn’t the mysterious, vanishing Blaine.” Any hope of escape is gone when the voice of Burt Hummel fills the space. Blaine bites his lip and rubs his hands together, not sure, at all, what to say to this man. Burt looks at him silently for a few moments from the doorway to the back of the shop, which only makes Blaine squirm harder, before sighing and gesturing behind himself with his head, “Come on back to my office. You can tell me what’s wrong with your car.”

Blaine lets out a shaky breath and looks at Finn, who smiles at him, before following Burt back to a small office inside the garage. It’s cluttered with papers and Blaine stands awkwardly in the door, looking around at anything but Burt. He hears Burt sigh roughly and then the squeak of a chair as Burt sits down.

“So, what’s going on with your car?” Burt asks.

Blaine blinks. Even though that’s what Burt had said they were going to talk about, Blaine had assumed he was being taken back to the office to be interrogated about everything that happened three years ago and everything that has happened since.

“Ummm,” Blaine coughs, “My check engine light came on and something is making a strange whirring sound.” He says, finally looking over at the older man.

Burt nods, “I’ll get one of my guys to take a look at it.” He says.

Blaine nods, “Thanks.” He says and then a silence descends in the room.

Blaine wonders if it would be incredibly rude to just leave. He doesn’t know what to say to Burt. He’s pretty sure Kurt’s father hates him anyway.

Burt sighs again, “Kid, why do you look like I’m about to attack you?” 

Blaine jumps slightly and then chuckles to himself because he *is* acting like Burt is seconds away from attacking him, and while Blaine may not know a lot, he knows Burt Hummel is not really the attacking kind. Maybe if someone was hurting his son…

Blaine swallows at the thought. Blaine *had* hurt Burt’s son. He tenses slightly again.

Burt presses his lips together and considers Blaine with a calculating gaze, “How are things?” He asks.

Blaine nods, “Good.” He answers. Are they? Are they good?

Burt laughs, “Well, if that ain’t the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard.” Blaine shakes his head but Burt doesn’t really give him a chance to deny it. Would he deny it?, “I’ll get Tom to look at your car and let you know what’s going on. Are you going to need a ride home?”

Blaine nods.

“Well, just head up to Finn and he’ll get you set up with everything.” Burt finishes and Blaine nods again before turning to leave, “Hey, wait.” Burt says and Blaine stops, turning slightly to find that Burt has risen from his chair.

Blaine’s eyes are wide as he watches the bigger man walk towards him, “Come here.” Burt says, softly before pulling at Blaine’s shoulder and bringing him in for a hug.

Blaine tenses but it doesn’t take long before he’s sort of melting and wrapping his arms around the other man. It’s been a long time since he’s been hugged by Burt, but if he’s honest, it’s been a long time since he’s been hugged by anyone. Burt smells like grease and laundry detergent and Blaine is catapulted back to when hugs with the older Hummel were a regular occurence.

“Come to dinner at the house on Friday.” Burt says.

Blaine pulls back and coughs awkwardly, not making eye contact, “Oh um, thank you but…”

Burt leaves his hands on Blaine’s shoulder and ducks to meet his eyeline, “I wasn’t really asking. It has been far too long. Poor Carole has missed hanging out with Bethany. You’ve gotta come.”

Blaine swallows, and maybe it’s residual effects from the hug, but he nods, “Okay. Okay, we’ll come.”

-- -- --

“Can you grab the pie, please?” Blaine asks as he and Bethany get out of the car, which is newly fixed and running well, on Friday night.

Bethany rolls her eyes but does as she asks, “Must you roll your eyes all the time?” Blaine asks, just a little exasperated.

“Must you dress like a five-year-old all the time?” Bethany shoots back.

Blaine scowls and straightens his cardigan. He doesn’t comment further because he doesn’t want to fight now and he knows he’s being punchy only because he’s nervous and Bethany’s being grumpy because she’s twelve...and probably a little nervous as well.

Her eyes had widened when Blaine had told her about their plans for Friday night. He couldn’t tell if she was excited or just shocked, but she hadn’t put up any fight (a rarity whenever Blaine suggested a plan of any kind) and had actually been ready to go before him (another rarity).

They make their way up the path and Blaine knocks when they get to the door, “I’ll get it!” He hears from inside and moments later Carole Hummel-Hudson is standing before them dressed in black pants and a black and white top that are both flattering. Blaine doesn’t really get to see much more as he’s pulled into an enthusiastic hug by Kurt’s step-mother.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you two! Look how old you’ve gotten!” Carole exclaims, letting go of Blaine and giving him a once over like a protective mother, before moving to pull Bethany into a hug.

Bethany has just enough time to move the pie to one hand to keep it from getting squished between them and Blaine is sure when he sees Bethany’s face there is going to be a ‘what the fuck’ expression on it.

However, he’s proven wrong when Carole turns and Bethany’s face comes into view just over Carole’s shoulder. Bethany’s eyes are closed and she has a soft smile on her face as she hugs Carole back one handed. Turns out it wasn’t just Blaine who had missed being hugged by such warm, welcoming people.

Blaine smiles at the pair as they separate. Bethany’s smile drops as she scowls at Blaine before turning to Carole with a smile, “We...brought pie.” She says, offering the dessert in her hand.

Carole claps, “Excellent! Now, I hope you’re ready to help me in the kitchen, young lady. I’ve missed having competent hands in there. Finn and Burt are just too oafish to be helpful.”

Bethany giggles and Blaine looks at his sister with raised eyebrows. It’s not a sound he’s heard in a long while.

“Blaine, Burt and Finn are in the den. You’re welcome to hang out with them or come join us in the kitchen. From what I remember you aren’t bad with a knife and mixing bowl.” She winks at him.

Blaine feels completely disoriented. Why doesn’t Carole hate him? Why is she being so nice and acting like nothing has changed and like they haven’t not seen each other in three years? Blaine feels the knots in his chest that have been there all week loosening slightly and he brings a hand up to massage his breast bone in response.

“I’ll go say hi in the den and then maybe join you in the kitchen?” He says and Carole nods but Bethany sighs.

“We don’t need any help in the kitchen, Blaine.” She says before stalking around Carole and into the house.

Blaine stands awkwardly on the threshold as Carole looks at him and then at Bethany’s retreating back. He can tell there are questions behind her eyes but he’s thankful when she doesn’t voice any.

“Well, I’m sure once you start watching the game, you won’t want to join us anyway. But you are more than welcome to do either.” Carole says, ushering him inside.

-- -- --

Blaine enters the den to find Burt sitting on a chair and Finn sitting on the couch. If it weren’t for the fact that Finn’s features have matured slightly with age, Blaine would have been convinced he’d time travelled to the past.

Both men look up when Blaine enters and he waves awkwardly.

“I’m going to go help mom with the cooking!” Finn suddenly says, too loudly for the space they’re in and making Blaine jump and Burt sigh.

Burt and Blaine watch Finn leave, silently, before Blaine turns back to Burt who shakes his head, “He was supposed to do that tactfully. But who am I kidding, that boy doesn’t have a tactful bone in his body.”

Blaine chuckles lightly before making his way over to the spot Finn vacated and sitting on the edge of the couch. He knows Burt would want to talk to him but he’d honestly hoped for a little bit of a time beforehand. Oh, hell, who is he kidding, he’d been hoping to avoid this conversation completely.

“So,” Burt starts, turning the game - UCLA versus Cincinnati - on mute and turning to Blaine, who looks back at him with a slightly worried expression, “Why haven’t I heard from you in three years?”

Blaine sucks in a breath. He knew this probably wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, but apparently Burt wasn’t pulling any punches or starting slow. Blaine shifts, “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

Burt quirks an eyebrow, “What in the world would give you that idea?”

Blaine quirks his own eyebrow, “Because I hurt him.” He says simply.

Burt scoffs, “From what I heard, Kurt did more of the hurting.” Blaine sucks in a breath. He hasn’t heard Kurt’s name outside his own head in almost three years and he’s surprised by the pang of hurt that blooms in his chest at the word.

But then Burt’s words register and he looks up, “What?” He asks, breathlessly.

“When I finally got the story out of Kurt about why you two broke up, I was mad.” Burt says and Blaine nods, “At *him*.” Burt emphasizes and Blaine’s eyes snap to the older man in surprise. Burt shakes his head, “Look, should you have lied about going to New York? Probably not. But I also know how stubborn and strong-headed my son is. He wouldn’t have accepted any other answer. And you were honest with him in the end. His not being able to accept that isn’t your fault.”

Blaine feels tears prick at his eyes. He wasn’t prepared for this and he certainly wasn’t prepared for it ten minutes after entering the house. He takes a deep breath and blinks at the carpet as he tries to process Burt’s words.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you.” Burt continues as if Blaine’s participation in the conversation really isn’t needed. Blaine looks back up at him. Of course Burt is mad at him, “But not for what you think I’m mad at you for.” Blaine’s brow furrows, “Part of the deal was that you and Bethany would check in and come to dinners and after what happened you just...stopped. Everything. All contact. That’s not fair, Blaine. Do you know how worried I’ve been about the two of you?”

Blaine breathes in sharply, feeling much like he did during his and Burt’s hug earlier in the week and Carole’s inspection at the door a few minutes ago. He’s gone so long without the nurturing care or guidance of a parental figure that he feels sort of shaky in the face of it.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out, not really knowing what else to say.

Burt observes him for a moment with pursed lips before nodding, “Apology accepted. As long as from now on you keep in touch and come to dinners again.” Blaine nods before Burt is even finished the sentence and Burt nods again, “All right. Now, I’ve got more to say but I think that’s enough for tonight. Whatta you say we turn on the game and enjoy the rest of our evening?”

Chapter Three

“Hey Kurt! Dinner tonight?” Rachel enthuses the next Friday, as soon as Kurt picks up his phone.

He chuckles at her overexuberance, “Sure. Just tell me the time and place. But not that Thai place again. I’m still having nightmares from that night.”

Rachel sighs and he’s sure she’s remembering the night they ate at Lemon Grass and then proceeded to throw up until dawn.

“Never again.” She agrees.

Kurt’s phone beeps in his hand and he pulls it away from his face to see a call from Quintin coming in. He smiles and brings his phone to his ear again, “Hey Rach, Quintin’s calling. Just text me the information.”

“Oooooh Quintin! That’s been going on for…”

“I gotta go!” Kurt interrupts and he can hear Rachel giggle as he presses the button to end the call with his best friend and connect Quintin’s call, “Hey!” He says.

“Hey, I was just calling to see if you wanted to do dinner tonight.” Quintin asks in his smooth tenor voice.

Kurt pouts, “I actually just agreed to have dinner with Rachel tonight.” He says, “But you could come!” 

Quintin chuckles and Kurt feels his stomach flip pleasantly at the sound, “Kurt, it’s fine. Enjoy your dinner with Rachel. Tomorrow?”

Things with Quintin have been going really well. They’ve been seeing each other for two weeks and Kurt has been enjoying getting to know the other man.

“Yeah. Tomorrow sounds great.” He says around a smile.

His phone beeps in his hand again and he pulls it back with a shocked expression at his own seeming popularity to see Finn’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Quintin, my brother’s calling and I always like to pick up in case it’s something to do with my dad.” Kurt explains.

“Totally get it.” Quintin says, easily, “I’ll text you about tomorrow.” And then he’s gone, allowing Finn’s call to connect. 

Kurt smiles as he accepts his stepbrother’s call, thinking how sweet Quintin is, “Hey Finn.” He says.

“Hey Kurt! What’s up, bro?” Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately at Finn’s words. He both loves and finds it mildly baffling how close they’ve gotten over the years considering how their relationship had started.

“Nothing. Just working on a paper. What’s up?” Kurt asks and while his question is meant to find out the purpose behind Finn’s call, it causes the other man to begin a description of his day. It’s at this point Kurt realizes that Finn doesn’t HAVE a purpose for calling beyond sharing random facts about his day.

“There was a guy who came into the shop with his bike and asked us to fix it. Like his pedal bike, not a motorcycle. And then at lunch, Frank ate my tuna sandwich so I had to go out and get another one. Can you believe that?” Kurt hums but he knows by now it’s more a rhetorical question, “And then I had to help clean Mom and Burt’s house for dinner tonight just because Blaine and Bethany are coming. But I mean why is that my…” He trails off but Kurt’s not sure if he really does trail off or is still speaking and Kurt can’t hear him over the white noise in his ears.

Blaine and Bethany? Blaine and Bethany having dinner with his family? How long has this been happening? Why has no one told Kurt until now? 

Kurt feels his chest tighten and his next breath stutters out of him, “Shit. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.” Finn moans.

“How long have they been going to dinners?” Kurt asks when he finds his voice. He knows from his father that Blaine and Bethany stopped coming to dinner after he and Kurt broke up but he has no idea when they started again. 

His father mentioning that fact had been the only time in the three years since the break up that Kurt had heard Blaine’s name, until now. The truth is, he has been actively avoiding hearing it.

He hasn’t admitted it to anyone, but he had almost immediately regretted breaking up with Blaine. Part of the reason he’d been so despondent the days following was because he was trying to force himself not to drive over to Blaine’s and try and fix everything. But he had messed things up too terribly, Blaine was too angry, so he forced himself to stay put. He’d told everyone he didn’t want to hear about Blaine anymore and if they thought that was because he was angry (as opposed to ashamed) then that was probably better.

“Ummm just last week. Listen, Kurt, I don’t think I was supposed to say anything. I’m...sorry.” Finn mumbles, sadly, and while Kurt would love to be mad at his brother, he can’t find it in himself to be mad at the well-meaning, though oblivious, man.

“I gotta go, Finn.” He says.

“Don’t be mad.” 

“I’m not.” At you. He adds to himself, “Look, I really do have to go. We’ll talk later.”

He hangs up when Finn says goodbye and stares at his phone for a few silent moments. Who is he actually mad at? His father? Blaine? Both? Himself?

He shakes his head violently to clear that thought from his brain and sighs down at his phone. He wants nothing more than to call his dad and ask for more information but he really needs to get this paper done. He also wants to think about what he wants to say.

With another heavy sigh, he lays his phone on the desk next to his computer and tries to focus back on the paper. He gives up after the fifth time he types Blaine’s name into his paper and decides he’ll have to get back to it later.

-- -- --

Blaine smiles as he watches Bethany finish getting ready to head over to Burt and Carole’s. Something has been different about his little sister over the last week. It’s not a huge change but she’s seemed...happier. She scowls at Blaine less and they’ve fought slightly less than usual. She even smiled at him the other night when he suggested they get macaroni and cheese for dinner.

“Ready to go?” Bethany asks, putting the finishing touches on her ponytail.

Blaine nods, “I am.” He says, gesturing out the door with an arm for her to go first. She snorts and rolls her eyes as she goes, and while he hates when she rolls her eyes, for the first time in a long time her eye roll felt more affectionate than simply annoyed.

Progress.

When they get to Burt and Carole’s, Bethany immediately heads off into the kitchen where Carole and Finn are baking cookies. Blaine follows Burt into the living room and they sit down on the couch.

“So how’s that Grand Am coming?” Blaine asks, conversationally. He’s spoken to Burt a handful of times on the phone over the past week.

Burt purses his lips as he considers him and Blaine can’t help but feel like he’s being scrutinized. He’s not sure why though. He hasn’t done anything wrong from what he can remember, especially not where Burt is concerned.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you something and I want an honest answer. Understand?” Burt asks.

Blaine nods with big eyes, what could Burt possibly want to know?

“How are things?” The older man asks.

Blaine lets out a surprised laugh, “Good.” He answers quickly, baffled that that was the question.

Burt narrows his eyes, “I told you to be honest.”

Blaine’s eyes widen further before he shakes his head in confusion. He wasn’t lying. Things are good. Well, things are...fine. Okay, things aren’t great….

...Had he lied?

Burt sighs and before Blaine can answer or even figure out what he’s thinking, Burt speaks again, “Look, Blaine, I admit I haven’t seen you in three years but I know what ‘not alright’ looks like and you are the definition of ‘not alright.’”

Blaine blinks at the older man and the room is silent before Blaine feels tears burning at the back of his eyes. He’s shocked to realize he’s close to crying and yet he has to blink forcefully to keep the tears at bay.

Burt sighs again, “What’s going on, bud? I know it’s been a while but I like to feel like I used to be able to help you when you needed it.”

Blaine nods, “You did.” He assures.

Burt nods as well, “Then let me help you *now*.”

Blaine takes a deep breath and lets it out as more tears threaten, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” He whispers hoarsely and his fight against his tears is lost as a few traitorous drops fall. He quickly wipes them away with his fingers but more are produced in their absence, “For the last three years, Bethany just seems to...hate me more than she loves me. It’s like there’s this distance between us that was never there before and I don’t know how to fix it.” Now that he’s started, he doesn’t know how to stop, “And I just feel like nothing is going my way - I’m a giant disappointment at work, I’m having to drop more classes than I’m taking at college, and I always feel like I’m being pulled in a million different directions and I don’t know where to look first.” He runs a shaky hand over his mouth and shakes his head, “I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Blaine takes a shaky breath after his...there’s no other way to put it, but verbal diarrhea. The thought makes him chuckle and then he chuckles harder when Burt’s eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“I just...spewed that all out, didn’t I?” Blaine laughs, wiping a stray tear that escapes.

Burt purses his lips, “You know, kid, no one knows what they’re doing.”

Blaine sighs as his laughter subsides, “Yeah, but does everyone feel like a failure ninety percent of the time?”

Burt shrugs, “Maybe not ninety?” He says, “But I can’t tell you how many times raising Kurt I would think ‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ And I wasn’t twenty-one trying to raise a twelve-year-old on my own.”

Blaine nods and takes a deep breath, looking down at the floor and running his hands over his thighs. He hears Burt sigh, “I know this isn’t easy, Blaine, but you’re not alone. You’ve got people you can lean on if you want to.”

Blaine nods again and wipes at his eyes as more tears fall, “I’ve felt so alone these last three years.”

Burt sighs and nods, bringing a hand up to lay on Blaine’s shoulder and squeezing, “You’re not alone. And you weren’t alone then. We were always a phone call away.”

Blaine falls into the hug like he can’t keep himself up anymore. Burt welcomes him with open arms and they are quiet as they embrace, Burt squeezing Blaine’s shoulder with a firm and solid grip.

For the first time in three years, Blaine doesn’t feel so alone.

-- -- --

“Hummel Tires and Lube?” Kurt smiles instantly at his father’s voice and the phrase he grew up listening to every time he called the shop.

“Hey Dad.” Kurt says.

“Kurt!” Kurt’s sure the warmth that enters Burt’s voice isn’t his imagination and it makes him smile even more despite the reason for his call, “How’s it going, bud?”

Kurt nods, “Good. Good.”

“Bought your ticket to come home yet?” Burt asks.

Kurt rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yes Dad. I’ve had my flight booked for almost a month.”

“Good.” Burt says, simply.

Kurt sighs, “Look, Dad, I called because I wanted to ask you about something.”

Burt is quiet on the phone and then Kurt hears him sigh, “Finn told you, didn’t he? About Blaine and Bethany.”

Kurt’s not surprised his father put two and two together so quickly, “Yeah.” He answers.

Burt sighs again and Kurt can picture him taking his hat off and rubbing his forehead, “I don’t know what you want me to say about it, Kurt.”

“How about the fact that you didn’t tell me.”

“For one, it’s only happened twice so it’s not like I’ve been keeping it a secret for months, and two, I’m under no obligation to tell you anything about it.” Burt responds.

Kurt guffaws, “You don’t think I should have a say in my own father inviting my ex-boyfriend over to dinner?”

“No, Kurt, I don’t. You don’t have to be happy about it, but it’s happening.” 

Kurt blinks, “So you’re picking him over me?”

“No!” Burt exclaims, but he seems angry as opposed to shocked. He sighs again, “Look, you know how I feel about your breakup with Blaine but I respect that it’s your life and you’re allowed to make the decisions you do.” Kurt feels a pang in his chest and has to bring a hand up to massage it, “But I never said I would stop making sure Blaine was okay.”

Kurt presses his lips together, “Okay.” He whispers finally.

“Okay.” Burt says, “Now, tell me more about this Quintin.”

Chapter Four

As March turns to April, Blaine and Bethany continue to spend every Friday evening at the Hummel-Hudson house. Blaine feels no more secure in his life, but he finds that for one night a week, he can breathe a little easier.

He finds it strange that no one ever brings up Kurt. It’s like the man doesn’t even exist outside the pictures around the house (which are enough to make Blaine’s heart ache a little), and while Blaine appreciates it, in a way, he also gets the feeling they’re avoiding talking about Kurt for his benefit.

He wants to tell them not to do that, that he’s a grown up with grown up responsibilities and that he can handle the mention of his ex boyfriend's name, except...the words never leave his lips. He’s sort of grateful he doesn’t have to deal with the “Kurt” of it all. That he can enjoy these dinners and the comfort they bring, without acknowledging the giant (but beautiful) blue-eyed elephant in the room.

He can tell that Bethany is benefiting from their time at the Hummel-Hudsons as well. She smiles more readily and will voluntarily spend time with Blaine now and again. It’s not like it was before, but it’s better than it’s been.

One night after Friday dinner, Bethany follows Carole into the kitchen and sits at the kitchen island while the older woman cleans up. Blaine, Finn, and Burt are busy watching football (Bethany once asked if football was the only channel the Hummel-Hudson house got).

“Hey Carole?” Bethany asks as Carole begins to load dishes into the dishwasher. Carole hums and looks up with a smile before continuing her clean up, “Have you ever been to New York City?”

Carole looks up with a confused smile, “I have. A few times. Why do you ask?”

Bethany shrugs, pulling her thin long sleeve shirt sleeves over her hands, “Just curious. What’s it like?”

Carole sighs, thoughtfully, as she puts in the last plate, closes the dishwasher and grabs the kitchen towel. She holds it between her hands as she leans on her elbows on the other side of the island, “It’s....busy.” She says, “But it’s also really exciting. There are always people moving and things going on. Your eyes never get bored.”

Bethany nods, “Cool.” She says, simply.

Carole narrows her eyes and pouts her lips, “Are you sure there isn’t another reason you’re asking?”

Bethany shakes her head and smiles, “Nope. Just wanted to know.”

Carole smiles before pushing up and turning to the sink, “Well, maybe one day you can make your way there, if you want to. It’s definitely something everyone should experience at least one.”

Bethany nods, “Yeah. One day.” She whispers, thoughtfully rubbing her finger on the marble countertop, “Ummm, do you think it would be cool if I...slept over at some point?”

Bethany hadn’t intended to ask, didn’t know if she’d be welcome, but she has been dying to ask since she and Blaine began coming to dinners again.

Carole turns around with wide eyes before her face breaks into a large smile and Bethany releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “Of course, sweetheart!” Carole enthuses.

“Cool.” Bethany says with a wide smile of her own.

-- -- --

It’s a few weeks later that Blaine pulls up in front of the Hummel-Hudson home to pick up Bethany after she had spent the night after dinner. Carole had told him she would be happy to drive Bethany home but Blaine had assured her he was more than happy to pick his sister up.

He had enjoyed the night to himself more than he thought he would. He’d poured a glass of wine and spent the night watching neglected PVR shows. It may not have been the most exciting night but it had definitely felt nice, and needed.

He makes his way up the driveway and knocks on the door. He doesn’t have to wait long for it to open, but instead of Carole like he expected, it’s Bethany on the other side.

“Carole had to go to work.” Bethany explains as she opens the door more for Blaine to enter, “She left about a half hour ago. I’ll go grab my stuff.”

Blaine nods as he makes his way inside and closes the door behind him. He follows Bethany into the living room and she makes her way to the couch, shoving a sweater into her overnight bag. She sighs and looks up at the ceiling, as if trying to mentally make sure she has everything.

Her eyes light up a moment later, “Oh! I forgot my phone charger upstairs. Be right back!” She calls, already running out of the room and up the stairs.

Blaine sighs as he looks around, rocking on his heels as he waits. He hears a noise but it’s not Bethany coming back downstairs, it’s the front door opening.

He turns, expecting to see Burt or Finn, but his eyes widen as Kurt walks through the door, pulling a suitcase behind him and talking fast, “Hey! My flight got changed from tonight to this afternoon, so here I am! Surprise!”

Blaine is frozen to the spot as Kurt drops his bags and kicks his shoes off, obviously not realizing that Blaine is the only person he’s speaking to.

Blaine’s breath catches at the sight of Kurt. He’s shocked sure, but he also notices how much Kurt has changed in the three years since he’s seen him. While Kurt is distracted, Blaine has the chance to notice how much broader Kurt’s shoulders are, how much more slim his waist is, and how much more...manly he appears. Of course Kurt was always ‘manly’ but when Blaine had known him, he was still part boy. Any part of Kurt that was boyish seems to have disappeared.

Blaine swallows thickly just as Kurt’s eyes make a sweep of the room. Blaine notices how Kurt’s face goes from open and happy to shocked as his eyes (those beautiful blue eyes that haven’t changed in three years) settle on Blaine. 

The pair stare at each other for a long moment. Blaine’s not sure if either of them are going to break the silence. Blaine’s not sure it’s his place to break the silence, but at the same time he’s honestly not sure how Kurt is going to react.

-- -- --

Those eyes. Those eyes that Kurt has tried not to think about for three years. Those eyes that first made him start to fall in love with Blaine before he even knew Blaine’s name, or even that what he was feeling was the beginnings of love. Those eyes are staring at him right now, from his father’s living room, and it feels like a punch to Kurt’s gut.

-- -- --

Blaine is sure his swallow is audible in the too quiet room. He feels his palms start to sweat as he and Kurt continue to stare at each other. Should he just...leave? He figures that would make things really awkward. Should he say something? But wouldn’t that be even more awkward than they are now? He could just leave and not come back.

The stairs creek to his right and Blaine realizes he had completely forgotten Bethany was here. He’d had this momentary plan to just flee and he would have left his little sister behind. Great parenting, Blaine.

Blaine doesn’t want to take his eyes off Kurt but he turns to find Bethany frozen on the bottom stair, eyes wide as she looks back and forth between Blaine and Kurt.

It’s a strange tableau and Blaine is transported back to three years ago when this would not have been a weird scenario. When Bethany would have run and jumped into Kurt’s arms and he would have laughed and hugged her back as he looked adoringly at Blaine.

The threesome are frozen for another long moment before Bethany breaks the awkward stillness. She shouts, ‘Kurt!’ and is across the hall and throwing her arms around the other man before Blaine’s eyes can fully focus on the movement.

He looks over to find Kurt looking momentarily shocked (he hasn’t really looked anything other than shocked since his eyes met Blaine’s) but his face is soon melting into a smile as he hugs the girl back, “Hi Annie.” He whispers and Blaine feels a shiver travel through him at the voice. That voice.

Blaine has just a moment to register the fact that Kurt had called Bethany ‘Annie’ - the only other person other than Blaine to have ever done that - before Bethany is pulling away and bouncing on her toes like the nine-year-old she was the last time Kurt saw her, “I’ve missed you!” She enthuses.

Kurt’s eyes flick over Bethany’s shoulder to Blaine’s before moving back to look down at Bethany, “I...missed you too.”

Blaine’s pretty sure he hadn’t imagined the hesitation in Kurt’s sentence. Was Kurt lying? He’s simultaneously grateful that Kurt would protect Bethany from the truth that he probably hadn’t thought much about her in three years, and indignant on her behalf that he probably *hadn’t* thought about her in three years.

“We should probably head home, Annie.” Blaine says, the first thing he’s said since Kurt entered the house, and he mentally pulls up short. That hadn’t been what he meant to say. He’s not sure WHAT exactly he’d meant to say, but suggesting that they leave hadn’t been it.

He’d thought a lot about what he would do if he ever saw Kurt again, thought about it even more since reconnecting with Burt and Carole in fact, but he’s now convinced he hadn’t actually thought it would happen. So now, when faced with the real Kurt in front of him, his only reaction is to leave.

Bethany turns to him with a pout. She turns back to Kurt, whose face is unreadable (Blaine wishes he could read it), and then back to Blaine, “But…” She starts, but Blaine shakes his head.

“We gotta go.” He says.

Bethany’s pouts turns into a scowl, before she’s huffing in that all too familiar way. She moves swiftly to grab her bag and then stalks out of the house without a word. Blaine sighs. So much for progress.

He turns back to Kurt who is looking at him, again with an unreadable expression, “I guess I’ll....bye.”

Blaine isn’t above saying he fled, leaving Kurt standing in the same position he’d been in for most of their interaction. He closes the front door behind him and walks swiftly to the car. Bethany is sitting in the front seat with her arms crossed and a deeper scowl on her face.

Blaine gets into the driver’s seat, does up his seatbelt, checks to make sure Bethany’s is done up and then goes through the motions of driving home. 

It’s not until he’s in his parking spot at their apartment and Bethany has huffed her way out of the car that he realizes he doesn’t remember anything about their journey home and that his hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

Chapter Five

Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose after handing off a caramel mocha latte to the blonde lady in front of him. It’s been a long day, a long week, hell, a long few years. 

After leaving (running from) the Hummel-Hudson house six days ago, Blaine has been avoiding - Burt, Carole, Finn, anyone associated with the Hummel-Hudsons. It’s not very mature of him, he knows, but he can’t seem to make himself answer the phone when Burt calls or even answer Bethany honestly when she’d asked about it.

“So Kurt’s back.” She’d said, nonchalantly, during breakfast the morning after they’d run into Kurt.

Blaine had let his fork drop on his plate with a loud clang. Bethany hadn’t spoken to him the night before, stalking to her room and slamming the door, “Can we not talk about this, Bethany?” He asked.

Bethany had pouted thoughtfully at him, “Why did we leave?”

“Because we needed to go.” Blaine answered shortly, “And Kurt didn’t need us there after just getting home.” At least that part hadn’t been a lie.

Bethany’s eyes had narrowed, “I wanted to see him.”

Blaine had closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again with a sigh, “Bethany, yesterday wasn’t the day for a reunion.”

“Then when can we spend time with Kurt?” Bethany had challenged.

Blaine squeezed his hand into a fist, “I don’t know.” Probably never, he’d thought.

Bethany all but growled, “You are such a loser!” She’d exploded.

Blaine’s eyes widened, “You do not speak to me that way.” 

Blaine rolled her eyes, “Save it, Blaine.” And with that, she’d pushed up from her chair and left the room.

Blaine can count on one hand the number of words he and Bethany have shared over the last five days. He’d gone from thinking everything was getting better to it never being worse, and all he can think is that he has Kurt to thank for that.

He pulls the handle on the steamer harder than necessary at the thought and is scowling at it when he hears a throat clear from behind him. He turns, trying to school his features into something more customer service like, to find Kurt standing at the register. His arms are crossed and he’s got a sassy eyebrow quirked as he regards Blaine.

Blaine is shocked out of his momentary anger and his eyes flit around the room - is he searching for an exit?

“Can we talk?” Kurt asks, shortly. He seems angry. Why is *Kurt* angry? From Blaine’s perspective he has no right to be.

“I’m working.” Blaine answers, gesturing around the coffee shop with only two customers at the moment.

Kurt sighs, “When do you have your next break?”

Technically Blaine’s overdue for a break but the prospect of talking to Kurt makes his heart pound. They’re quiet for another moment until Kurt quirks another eyebrow and Blaine huffs, “Fine. I can take a break in ten minutes.”

Kurt nods and turns to walk to a table without another word. Blaine watches him go and, even though he’s angry, he can’t help but notice how good Kurt’s ass looks in his pants today.

-- -- --

“So, what’s up?” Blaine asks, as he sits heavily in the chair opposite Kurt fifteen minutes later. He’s not going to admit he stalled for an extra five minutes.

Kurt is sitting with one leg crossed over the other and his arms crossed tightly over his chest, “Why are you ignoring my dad?”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up. Out of all the things Kurt could have said, that wasn’t what Blaine had been expecting, “Ummmm…”

“He says you haven’t answered his calls all week. By Wednesday he was convinced you were dead.” Kurt rolls his eyes at this but then looks pointedly back at Blaine.

“I’ve been busy.” Blaine defends.

Kurt rolls his eyes again, “I just came to make sure you come to dinner tonight.”

“I…” Blaine starts but is interrupted.

“It would make Dad happy.” Kurt continues.

Blaine swallows and wrings his hands together, “Are we...going to be okay to be around each other?”

Kurt stares at him for a moment before sighing and looking away, “We’re adults, I think we can handle it.” He says, “And besides, I’m only home for a few weeks.”

Blaine nods and looks down at the floor, suddenly aware of how strange this conversation is. They’re being civil enough but it’s not *them*. There is a distance that, even before they really knew each other, wasn’t ever there. Blaine can’t decide if that distance is from three years apart, Blaine’s anger, or Kurt’s...Blaine’s not sure what Kurt is feeling. That in and of itself is strange. He had always felt like he could always tell what Kurt was feeling.

Kurt widens his eyes and shakes his head expectantly, “So? Are you guys going to come to dinner?”

Blaine swallows and nods, “Yeah, yeah we’ll come.”

Kurt nods, uncrosses his legs and rubs his hands down his thighs, “Good. I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

And then he’s up and gone. Blaine watches him go and thinks that agreeing may have not been a good idea.

-- -- --

By the time Kurt makes it to his car and closes the driver’s side door, he can’t keep a handle on his shaky hands anymore. It had felt like a Herculean task to keep them from shaking all the way through his conversation with Blaine. He’d had to leave as soon as possible to keep Blaine from noticing.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, massaging the centre of his chest at the pain he feels there. He can do this. He can be around his ex-boyfriend one night a week while he’s home. That should be easy. Kurt’s moved on. He’s got Quintin. Nice, sweet, complimentary, Quintin. Kurt blinks his eyes open and looks at the clock, realizing just now he’d told Quintin he’d text when he got to Lima and hadn’t.

He picks up his phone with less shaky fingers and thumbs open his messenger app. He gives a small smile at the last text Quintin had sent;

Quintin

Say hi to your dad! I know we’ve never met but...it’s nice to be nice!

Quintin is nice. Quintin is lovely. Quintin is who Kurt is with now. He hasn’t been with Blaine for three years, and beyond the potential awkwardness of ‘you were the first boy to see me naked and touch my body’, there shouldn’t be anything strange between them.

He’s sure Blaine’s moved on too.

-- -- -- 

Blaine gives a shaky laugh at the joke Finn just told. It’s after dinner and the entire Hummel-Hudson family, along with Bethany and Blaine,  are sitting in Burt and Carole’s living room talking. 

Blaine is surprised by how well the evening has gone. He attributes a lot of that to the fact that he and Kurt have stayed pretty far away from each other all night. Blaine hasn’t even really made eye contact with the other man outside of quick glances. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Blaine figures it’s definitely less awkward than what the alternative would be.

He could tell Kurt’s family hadn’t known how to act at first. Burt, Carole, and Finn had looked back and forth between Kurt and Blaine when he and Bethany had first arrived at the house, as if they were ticking time bombs, before Bethany had shot forward and hugged Kurt much like she had the afternoon Kurt got home. She hasn’t really left his side all night and Blaine’s not sure how to feel about that.

He chances another glance at Kurt to find the other man looking back. They stare at each other for a few beats before Kurt is pulled into a conversation with Finn, but as Blaine keeps watching, Kurt keeps flicking his eyes in Blaine’s direction.

Blaine pouts thoughtfully, trying to figure out what he’s feeling. Anger, definitely. He’s been angry for three years. Angry since he walked out of Kurt’s bedroom. He knows it’s not productive to be angry, and has spent three years trying to hide his anger (or let it go), but...he’s angry. And now, with Kurt sitting in front of him, he wants nothing more than to *just* be angry. Anger is a simpler emotion. But Blaine also finds himself feeling longing, heartache, and if his pulse has anything to say about it, lust.

God, what he wouldn’t give to just be angry.

“So, when do we get to meet Quintin?” Blaine is shaken from his thoughts by Finn’s voice and he turns to find Kurt looking at Finn with wide eyes - silently screaming at him.

The whole room goes silent, or at least it does to Blaine’s ears. Who’s Quintin?

“Who’s Quintin?” Bethany asks for him and Blaine both wants to know and doesn’t want to know in equal measure.

Kurt coughs, awkwardly, and his eyes flick to Blaine before he smiles at Bethany, “Just...a guy.”

Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. It’s obvious Quintin is someone Kurt is seeing. Have they been dating long? Is it serious? Blaine feels nauseous.

He tries to shake himself out of it, like he’s been doing for three years with his anger (oh and hey look at that, he’s angry about this too), and when Kurt looks over at him with an unsure expression, Blaine tries to school his features into something neutral.

The way Kurt bites his lip makes Blaine think he wasn’t entirely successful.

“We should get going.” Blaine blurts suddenly. He’s got to stop fleeing, but today isn’t the day to quit cold turkey.

Bethany pouts and glares at him but doesn’t protest as she gets up to put her shoes on. She hugs everyone in the room, thanks Burt and Carole, and then walks out of the front door. Blaine hugs Carole and Burt, gives a small wave to Finn who looks a little like someone kicked his dog, and then tries to give a smile to Kurt. It’s more a wobbly grimace than anything else and he leaves without another word.

He sits next to Bethany in the car and looks over at her. She’s staring out the window, despondently, and Blaine sighs before turning the key in the ignition. 

His brow furrows when nothing happens. He resets the key and tries to start the engine again, only to get the same result - nothing.

“What’s wrong with it?” Bethany asks.

Blaine sighs, “I don’t...know.” He mumbles as he tries the key again.

“I don’t think turning the key over and over again is going to solve the problem.” Bethany snarks and Blaine spares her an exasperated look before turning the key again, praying that this time the result will be different.

It’s not and he slumps forward to lay his head on the steering wheel. Of course. Of course this would happen now.

“I’ll be right back.” He says before getting out of the car and trudging back up the path to the front door.

He knocks and wrings his hands together while he waits. When Finn opens the door with a confused and then surprised expression, lit by the soft glow of light from the hallway, Blaine almost sighs in relief. Out of all the options to answer the door, this is the best one possible.

“My car won’t start.” He tells Finn without ceremony.

Finn pouts, “That’s not good.” He needlessly provides.

Blaine nods anyway, “Can you come take a look at it?”

Finn follows Blaine outside and pops the hood of the car. He pokes around for a moment, Blaine not really knowing what he’s looking for or if anything major is really wrong, before straightening with a sigh.

“It’s the starter.” Finn supplies and at Blaine’s confused shrug he clarifies, “It’s a part that starts the engine so it can run on its own without you having to do anything.”

Blaine nods with pseudo-understanding, “That sounds...important.”

Finn chuckles, “Well, your car isn’t getting home tonight, that’s for sure.”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “Okay ummm, would you be able to drive us home?”

Finn frowns, “I’ve had too much to drink. Sorry. But maybe Burt or Carole?”

Blaine nods and follows Finn into the house after telling Bethany he’d be right back.

“Hey! Blaine’s starter is shot.” Finn calls through the house as they make their way to the dining room where everyone is tidying up.

Burt looks up from the plates he’s putting away with pursed lips, “It looked fine the other week.”

Finn shrugs, “Well it’s not fine now. Can one of you drive Blaine and Bethany home? Their car isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

Blaine notices Kurt sending him furtive glances as he arranges silverware, trying to pretend like he’s not paying attention to the conversation.

Burt clicks his tongue, “I’m afraid we both drank a little too much.” He says apologetically, “But…” He lets the word trail off as he turns to look at Kurt who is staring pointedly at a fork in his hand, “Kurt, you didn’t have anything to drink tonight.”

Kurt looks up with a smile that’s more a grimace, “No. I did not.”

Burt nods, “Then could you drive Blaine and Bethany home? I’ll get your car to the shop tomorrow, Blaine.”

Blaine nods to say he heard Burt but is too busy watching Kurt to make any real effort. Kurt is fidgeting with the silverware with fluttering hands and he hasn’t looked at Blaine.

“I would really appreciate the ride home.” Blaine whispers.

Kurt nods, looking up at Blaine with the same awkward smile as before, “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

-- -- --

Bethany talks the entire way home, for which Blaine is eternally grateful. She rambles on about school and her friends and soccer, and Blaine and Kurt don’t have to speak at all (to her or each other). They do keep glancing sideways at one another and Blaine has a fleeting thought that if this keeps up, his eyes are going to permanently shift sideways. The thought makes him chuckle out of the blue and Kurt sends him a bemused look while Bethany keeps talking. 

When they pull up in front of Blaine and Bethany’s apartment, Blaine silently sighs - relieved. Until…

“Hey Kurt! You should come up and see my new trophies!” Bethany exclaims from the back seat.

Blaine holds his breath while he looks at Bethany and then back at Kurt. He watches as Kurt looks quickly at him before smiling at Bethany and Blaine’s not sure if he wants Kurt to accept or decline.

“Umm, sure, Bethany. If that’s alright?” He directs the question at Blaine, who nods reflexively.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Blaine whispers.

Blaine isn’t sure why he feels like his skin is on fire as Kurt follows them into the building and into the elevator. They settle next to each other and Blaine is acutely aware of Kurt’s body heat next to him. He fidgets and hopes Kurt doesn’t notice but he knows Bethany notices as she keeps shooting him weird looks.

The trio is silent as they make their way into the apartment, but then Bethany is all chatter again as she drags Kurt to her bedroom to show him her soccer trophies. Blaine takes a deep breath when they’re gone. He hadn’t expected to have Kurt in his apartment ever again, and he’s even more confused by his body’s reaction to that fact. He tries to find something to busy himself with, but rearranging the books on the coffee table really isn’t doing anything to help calm his nerves.

Ten minutes later, Kurt and Bethany emerge from her room.

“I asked Kurt to watch a movie with us!” Bethany enthuses, and by Kurt’s bewildered expression, Blaine’s pretty sure it wasn’t so much an ask as it was a demand.

“I’m sure Kurt has other things he needs to be doing tonight.” Blaine tries, even though his heart hammers in his chest betraying what his logical mind is telling him what needs to happen.

Kurt coughs, “No, it’s cool. That would be...cool.”

They settle in to watch The Greatest Showman, Bethany curled up on the chair which leaves Blaine and Kurt to sit together on the couch. They leave a large space between themselves, and Blaine tries hard not to keep looking at the other man.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Bethany yawns with a large stretch, “You know what? I’m pretty tired. I’m going to head to bed. Night Blaine. Night Kurt.” 

And she’s gone.

Blaine watches her go with wide eyes before looking over at Kurt, who is looking at him, and laughing awkwardly. He coughs and shifts, “So, um, you don’t have to stay…”

Kurt blinks at him, “Do you...want me to go?” He says, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. 

Blaine is shocked by how much he doesn’t want Kurt to leave. He shakes his head, “No.” He whispers, colour rising on his own cheeks.

It’s only when Kurt’s fingers curl over Blaine’s that Blaine realizes how close they’ve become. When did that happen?

Chapter Six

Kurt has no idea what he’s doing. He has no idea why he agreed to come up to the apartment. He has no idea why he agreed to stay when Bethany asked (told) him to stay for a movie. He has no idea why he’s currently holding Blaine’s hand.

All he knows is that if Blaine doesn’t kiss him in the next minute, he will spontaneously combust.

-- -- --

Blaine searches Kurt eyes, trying to find the answers to the million plus questions and uncertainties swirling in his own head. He doesn’t find much in ways of answers, but he does find a desire he hasn’t seen in three years (from Kurt or from anyone).

He lunges forward before he can overthink it too much and catches Kurt’s lips in a kiss. He almost immediately feels a push as Kurt growls and kisses back. Blaine feels a rush of heat up his spine at the feeling and sound.

He grabs Kurt’s shirt in both of his fists and thrills at the squeak Kurt makes when he pulls him up to stand. They kiss down the hallway and tumble into Blaine’s bedroom.

Blaine has a fleeting moment to thank a higher power he doesn’t really believe in that he cleaned his room that morning before he’s pushed back onto the bed.

He shuffles backwards as Kurt crawls over him and kissing horizontally is so, so much better.

He tugs Kurt’s shirt over his head and feels Kurt respond in kind. Their lips barely separate either time and as they both fumble for the other’s belt, button, and zipper Kurt kisses along Blaine’s jaw.

Blaine pants at the ceiling as Kurt pushes his pants as far down as he can before Blaine uses his feet to take them the rest of the way off. Kurt’s are gone a moment later. When Kurt lowers himself the only thing separating them are two thin boxers and Blaine realizes this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.

He hasn’t slept with anyone in three years, so he’s a little out of practice, but it’s clear by Kurt’s sure fingers, that this isn’t Kurt’s ‘first time’ in three years.

All conscious thought goes out the window, however, as Kurt pushes inside. Blaine exists only in nerves and low moans. He feels like every bit of him is alive, and when he opens his eyes (that he hadn’t realized he’d closed), he’s hit with an image of Kurt moving above him. It’s this image that carries him over the edge and his vision whites out at the corners as he comes.

Kurt follows a few thrusts later. They rock gently for a few minutes, their heavy breathing the only noise in the room, before Kurt pulls out and flops onto the bed next to Blaine. Blaine rolls his head on the pillow to look at Kurt, eyelashes spread across his cheeks, before his eyes are sliding shut and sleep pulls him under.

-- -- --

Blaine feels the bed shift and grunts awake. He brings a hand to rub his eyes and tries to let them adjust to the dim light of his bedroom. Now that he’s awake he’s not entirely sure what woke him. He squints into the darkness until he hears shuffling to his right and turns to find Kurt pulling on his pants. 

It’s almost completely dark in the room but Kurt’s pale skin seems to glow in the low moonlight streaming in from outside. Blaine blinks as he watches Kurt pull on his pants, “You’re leaving?”

He had whispered it but Kurt still jumps, turning around with his hands at his fly. He chuckles almost self-consciously, “Ummm yeah, I was going to head out.”

Blaine pushes up to sit against the headboard, “You don’t...have too.” He says softly.

He’s not really sure how to act right now. How does one act after sleeping with their ex-boyfriend who they haven’t seen in three years and are still mad at? Not to mention his ex-boyfriend who is maybe seeing someone else?

Kurt almost seems to wince, “It’s probably best. I don’t think Bethany should see me here.”

Bethany. Oh. Right.

Blaine nods, “You’re right.” 

Kurt nods back and the pair stare at each other silently for a few moments. Blaine wishes he could read Kurt’s mind. Does he regret what they did? Is he leaving not only for Bethany’s sake but because he regrets having slept with Blaine?

Does Blaine regret what they did?

“So, I’m just gonna...go.” Kurt says, gesturing toward the door.

Blaine nods again, “Okay.”

Kurt nods (and Blaine is struck by how much nodding is happening between them), before he’s tugging on his shirt over his head and heading to Blaine’s bedroom door, “I’ll talk to you later?” 

Blaine presses his lips together to keep from nodding again, “Yeah.” He says, and then Kurt is gone.

Blaine lets his head fall back against the headboard with a thud. Just when he thought his life couldn’t get more complicated…

-- -- --

Kurt gets as far as the door two down from Blaine’s apartment before he leans against the wall and lets his head hit the plaster with an audible thunk. He closes his eyes and runs a shaky hand over his face.

What the hell did he just do? What the hell did they just do?

Did he want it?

Of course he wanted it.

But they shouldn’t have. 

Right?

Kurt’s head throbs. He’s not sure what to think. It’s not like he hasn’t regretted his break up with Blaine since it happened three years ago, and it’s not like he hasn’t dreamt of that happening over and over again since, it’s just...no, they shouldn’t have done that.

Kurt’s cell phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out only to close his eyes at the name on the screen. 

Did he just cheat on Quintin?

Fighting back a wave of nausea, Kurt pockets his phone and marches down the hallway to the elevator. He doesn’t have the energy to think about all of this right now. So he’s going to do what he does best in these situations - avoid...and eat. He’s sure he can convince Finn to go out for breakfast with him. The distraction will be good...

...until he can figure out what the fuck he’s feeling or what the fuck he just did or didn’t do.

-- -- --

Blaine waits in bed for another twenty minutes before getting out of bed. He puts it off as long as possible but he can hear Bethany moving around the apartment and knows he’s got to get her to school and himself to work. Once again, he doesn’t have the luxury to dwell.

He throws on a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and his glasses (he has no interest in futzing with his contacts at the moment). He checks his appearance in the mirror and sighs at the riot of curls he finds. He uses his hands to try and tame them but doesn’t have the energy to make any real effort. He sighs again and makes his way out into the living room.

Bethany’s on the couch with a bowl of cereal at her chest. She’s flipping through television channels and only spares Blaine a second’s glance before she looks back at the television, “Morning.” She says, simply.

“Morning.” Blaine says softly, moving to the coffee machine and hitting start. He pulls a mug from the cupboard and then leans his hands on the counter to wait for his coffee to brew.

He’s used to not speaking much in the morning with Bethany. They have an almost silent routine perfected, and while Blaine misses the mornings Bethany would chatter away and ask a million questions, he’s gotten used to her quiet apathy.

“So what time did Kurt leave?” One of Blaine’s hands slips from where he’s leaning against the counter and he has to catch himself quickly before he takes a header into the granite. Once he rights himself he turns to find Bethany watching him with a quirked eyebrow. He coughs and fidgets with his coffee mug.

“Ummm…” He starts. Words, Blaine. Use them. He chides himself.

“I’m...assuming it was after the movie?” Bethany asks, still looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Maybe he has.

Blaine coughs again and nods, “Yeah, yeah. He stayed to finish watching the movie and then went home.” He silently thanks his sister for the out.

Bethany nods, “Cool. It’s cool he’s home.”

Blaine looks over at her, “Yeah?”

Bethany gives him a ‘duh’ face, “Of course. You don’t think so?”

That’s a loaded question if he’s ever heard one. On the one hand, yes. It is ‘cool’ that Kurt is home. Blaine has thought about Kurt a lot over the past three years and has missed him terribly despite being angry with him. But on the other hand, it’s awkward as hell and he went and made it more awkward by sleeping with Kurt. Kurt, who has clearly moved on from him and is dating someone else.

Did Blaine make Kurt cheat on his boyfriend? Blaine feels slightly nauseous at the thought. 

Bethany gives him another incredulous look at his silence and he coughs for a third time and nods, “Yeah, yeah it’s cool.”

Bethany nods slowly before turning back to the television and Blaine counts how many more times he’s going to have to see Kurt while he’s home. Hopefully not many.

Even though his heart clenches at that thought.

Chapter Seven

Blaine’s at work two days later, and as he smiles at the hulking man who just ordered a unicorn frappuccino (he’s not here to judge people) and gestures to his left for the man to pick up his drink, he turns to his next customer to find one Burt Hummel approaching.

Blaine swallows thickly. Burt’s never come to his work before, and while under normal circumstances this would be a welcome visit, Blaine is suddenly bombarded with images of Kurt in his bed and he is instantly fidgety. It doesn’t help that Burt looks...angry?

“Hey!” Blaine says, overly bright.

Burt lifts an eyebrow, “Hey. Can we talk? Do you have a break soon?”

Blaine nods, again trying not to let images of Kurt asking him a similar question last week come into his brain, “Yeah, just let me tell my boss. Do you want something to drink?”

Burt looks up at the board above Blaine’s head with a scowl, “I’ve never understood the need for all these crazy drinks.” He mumbles.

Blaine laughs softly, “I can get you a regular drip?”

Burt nods and smiles for the first time since the conversation started, “If you could add some grease fumes in there, it would taste like normal.” He winks as Blaine chuckles and then moves to find a seat while Blaine goes to make his drink and inform Lauren he’s taking a break.

-- -- --

“So, what’s up?” Blaine asks, trying for nonchalance as he sets a cup of black coffee in front of Burt, sits down opposite him and takes a sip of his own.

Burt picks up his cup and nods in thanks before sighing. He’s quiet for a moment and Blaine’s about to ask what’s wrong before Burt leans forward, brings his hand up, and lightly smacks the back of Blaine’s head.

“Ow!” Blaine exclaims even though it didn’t really hurt. He brings a hand up to the spot anyway and rubs as he gives Burt an incredulous look, “What was that for?”

“That was for whatever happened that made my son creep into my house at 5 am the other morning looking like he’d done a lot more than sleep in another bed.” Burt says pointedly.

Blaine’s cheeks flare red and he looks down at the floor. Oh.

Burt sighs, “Have you at least talked to him since?”

Blaine shakes his head. Despite agreeing with Kurt that he’d ‘talk to him later’, he hadn’t really thought ‘later’ would come.

Burt shakes his head, “You are both idiots.” There’s affection in his voice but Blaine still feels chastised.

He sits up a little straighter, “Why did you come to me about this? Did you talk to Kurt?”

Burt rolls his eyes, “I love my son but Kurt is so deep into avoidance, I’m sure he’d deny even knowing who you are at this point. I thought I’d have a better shot talking some sense into you.”

Blaine shifts, awkwardly, “I really think you should talk to your son.”

Burt lifts his eyebrows, “I am.” Blaine does a double take and Burt sighs, “When are you going to get it, Blaine? You’re my son. I care. I want the best for you. Including making you talk to my other son about...whatever is going on between you two.”

Blaine swallows and then lets a smile take over his face before trying to stifle it into his coffee cup. He sees Burt smirk and figures he didn’t hide his smile fast enough. He finds he’s okay with that.

The pair is quiet for a moment before Burt raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, “So...you gonna talk to Kurt?”

Blaine lets out a breath and sighs, “I’ll talk to Kurt.” He concedes, “Or...I’ll try.” He amends, and Burt nods knowingly, patting Blaine on the knee.

-- -- --

Blaine puts his talk with Kurt off until Friday. He’d actually like to blame indecision and nerves, but the truth is his life sort of blew up in the intervening five days. 

A colleague at work quit suddenly so Blaine has worked more hours this week than he hasn’t. Because he’s been at work so much, Bethany had to spend a lot of the week doing homework at the coffee shop (complete with snarky comments and glares because she couldn’t be at home). Blaine’s also had two essays due (one of which he had to beg for an extension on) and a midterm exam (which he had to ask to take after the class because he’d been at work during class). 

He hasn’t slept more than three hours at night for the past five nights and he’s had a headache for almost a complete day. Talking to Kurt had kind of fallen to the backburner. But it’s now Friday and as he and Bethany make their way to Burt and Carole’s for dinner, Blaine knows he’ll have to talk to Kurt tonight...and it’s now that indecision and nerves rear their ugly heads.

When he and Bethany get to the Hummel-Hudson’s, the only person there is Kurt. Of course. Blaine feels like the universe is just laughing at him at this point.

“Where is everyone?” Bethany asks as she makes herself at home on the couch.

“Dad and Finn got stuck at the garage. They should be home soon. Carole’s at the grocery store.” Kurt answers, softly, rubbing a hand up and down his arm as he looks at Bethany. He hasn’t looked at Blaine since they entered the house.

Blaine figures this is his moment to talk to Kurt, but his sluggish, over-tired, overworked, and nervous brain takes a second to get there. He blinks, owlishy, before looking up at Kurt, “Can we talk?”

Kurt startles and looks over. Blaine can see Bethany looking at him with wide eyes.

Kurt shifts awkwardly and looks for a moment like he’s going to refuse. But instead, he gives a jerky nod and then gestures out of the room. Blaine takes a deep breath before moving into the kitchen. He’s not exactly sure what he’s going to say but he knows he has to say something.

-- -- --

Kurt hesitates before following Blaine. He looks over at Bethany who quickly turns back to the television like she hadn’t been watching them. He swallows, turning to make his way down the hall toward the kitchen, and feels his chest tightening to the point where he has to bring a hand up to massage it to soothe the ache.

He furrows his brow as he tries to make sense of the feeling, and then it hits him. It’s his body’s reaction to seeing Blaine again. This has happened every time he’s seen or even heard Blaine’s name lately.

Maybe it’s hurt, or anger, or any number of negative feelings, but...maybe it’s not negative at all. He realizes with startling clarity that he hasn’t felt this feeling in almost three years. It’s as if his heart is literally trying to pop out of his chest and go to Blaine. It’s drawn to Blaine in a way it hasn’t been toward any other guy Kurt has dated since their breakup.

And as Kurt enters the kitchen to find Blaine sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the table top with a blank expression, he realizes just how much he wants Blaine back in his life. But does Blaine want him in his…?

-- -- --

Blaine hears more than sees Kurt enter the kitchen. He keeps his eyes trained on the table top (he’s not 100% sure he has the energy to look up even if he wanted to). He sees from his peripheral vision as Kurt settles slowly into a seat across from him. He’s moving slowly as if approaching a wild animal, and for some reason, Blaine finds this hilarious.

He’s laughing before he even really realizes it and when he finally looks up at Kurt, Kurt’s eyes are wide and his hands are frozen on the table in front of him.

Blaine keeps laughing, to the point where tears slide down his cheeks and he’s sure Kurt is close to calling 911 at his apparent hysteria. Blaine’s not sure where this is coming from, he’s not feeling jovial, but he is feeling...

“I am so done.” He says as his laughter peters out. Kurt eyes him warily. Blaine sighs as he runs a hand under his eyes to catch the few remaining tears clinging there, “I have been so...angry the last three years and now you’re here and we slept together and you’re with someone and my life is falling apart and I’m just so. Done.” He shrugs, “I don’t have it in me to be angry with you anymore. I just don’t.”

He definitely hadn’t meant to say any of that, but now that he has, he feels lighter somehow. He looks over at Kurt who is still looking at him warily and shrugs again, not really sure where to go from here.

Kurt is quiet for another moment before coughing, “Quintin and I aren’t exclusive.”

This makes Blaine laugh again, “Well, I guess that takes one thing off my list.”

Kurt swallows, “Do you regret...sleeping together?”

Blaine is taken aback by the question. Maybe not because of its content but because of Kurt’s demeanor. Kurt looks vulnerable. Blaine realizes he’s never seen Kurt this way. Not three years ago and definitely not any of the times he’s seen him in the last couple of weeks. 

Blaine furrows his eyebrows, “No.” He answers, honestly, and he sees Kurt take a deep breath and then let it out with a nod, “Do you?”

Kurt shakes his head and looks into Blaine’s eyes, “No.”

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together, “Look,” He says with another heavy sigh, “My life is extremely complicated right now, and while I’m not angry anymore,” He shakes his head, “I don’t think I have it in me to be anything other than friends.”

Kurt swallows thickly and nods, “Of course. That makes sense.” He says, “Besides...I am kinda seeing someone.”

Blaine nods and ignores the way his heart tugs at the reminder. He really doesn’t have it in him to date anyone. And besides, Kurt clearly doesn’t want to fall back into a relationship with him either.

Friends though. Friends he can do. He wasn’t lying when he said he was done being angry. He wants Kurt’s friendship. He wants to be able to talk to him and lean on him and have him part of his, and Bethany’s, life again.

The pair smile across the table at one another - a calm, comfortableness has settled between them that hasn’t been there for three years. It’s...nice.

“So was ‘us’ the only thing bothering you? Or do you want to tell me what has you looking like you haven’t slept in days?” Kurt asks with a smirk after a few more moments of silence.

Blaine chuckles, “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Kurt whispers softly and Blaine looks at him with tired eyes before nodding and venting to Kurt about his week until Burt and Carole come home.

Chapter Eight

Blaine’s life gets no less complicated as the week goes by, but he starts to trust Burt, and now that Kurt is back in his life, he begins to lean on them more and more.

He can’t put into words what it feels like to be able to talk to and confide in Kurt again. They see each other almost every day, usually because Kurt comes by the coffee shop while Blaine is working, and it feels like it did back when they first got together...complete with the flirting, which Blaine has to admit is amazing, if not confusing.

“You are a master whip creamer, did you know that?” Kurt says a week later while leaning his elbows on the counter at the coffee shop and Blaine uses a rag to wipe the counter after handing a drink to a woman on the other side.

Blaine chuckles, “Well, I did go to creamer school.” He turns and winks in the other man’s direction.

He notices Kurt’s eyes widen a little and colour rise in his cheeks ever so slightly. Blaine immediately chastises himself. He was the one who said they should be friends and he goes and winks at him? Idiot.

Kurt swallows and seems to shake himself out of his thoughts a moment later, “Well,” He says with a smile, “I’m sure you were top of your class.”

Blaine feels himself go warm, “It’s nothing compared to your famous buttercream flowers.” Blaine remembers the flowers Kurt created for Bethany’s birthday cake while they were together, they were magnificent.

Kurt puts a hand to his chest and affects a fake snooty expression, “You shouldn’t compare yourself to perfection.”

Blaine laughs at this and Kurt breaks his character to laugh back. They smile stupidly at each other for a moment longer before another customer comes to the counter.

Blaine shrugs apologetically before going to take the girl’s order. He can see Kurt out of the corner of his eye push up from the counter and look around briefly before letting his eyes settle back on Blaine. Blaine feels the weight of his stare and tries not to fidget under it.

They’re friends. They’re being friendly. They aren’t together and nor will they probably ever be together. Friends.

Blaine lets himself into his apartment later that night with a happy sigh. Kurt had hung around for most of his shift and he isn’t above saying he loved that.

“Blaine!” He hears called from the living room and sighs for a different reason. He shouldn’t have to brace himself to see his sister.

“What’s up?” He asks walking into the room. Bethany is sitting on the couch with a blanket around her despite the June warmth. Her long straight hair is pulled into two messy buns on the sides of her head. Blaine’s not sure if it’s her look or the fact that she just successfully survived an hour alone after being dropped off after soccer practice, but she seems...older. He’s momentarily taken aback by that thought.

She smiles at him. Wait. Smiles?

“I thought we could do that puzzle I got you for your birthday!” Bethany says.

Blaine almost does a double take. Who is this girl? She’s happy and she’s willingly offering to spend time with him doing an activity she doesn’t like...where did his bratty sister go?

His skepticism must show on his face because Bethany looks at him oddly, “What? Do I have something on my face?” She asks, self-consciously bringing a hand up to her face.

Blaine shakes himself out of it, “No, no. I’m just...tired. But doing that puzzle sounds great.”

Bethany smiles and nods, lifting off the top of the box as Blaine sits down next to her.

The pair spend a good two hours working on the elephant puzzle, laughing and talking. Blaine finds his chest expanding with happiness, and hope. How could it be that he fixes things with Kurt AND Bethany in the same week? He’s not that lucky. But as Bethany playfully punches him, laughing, for stealing a puzzle piece she was about to put in and putting it in himself, he can’t help but...hope.

-- -- --

Blaine is putting the last dish away when there’s a knock at the door. He pouts thoughtfully in its direction, wondering who it could be. 

It’s almost midnight and Blaine has been alone since ten when Bethany had gone to bed. The final shock of their evening together had been when she’d hugged him around the neck and kissed his cheek before she left for her bedroom. Blaine is still confused by it, but incredibly grateful for her good mood. After she’d gone to bed Blaine had studied for a while before cleaning the kitchen.

He makes his way to the door, checking the clock to confirm that it is as late as he thinks it is. The clock blinks 11:49 back at him and he wonders if perhaps one of his neighbours is having an emergency.

There’s another knock on the door before Blaine can get to it and he pulls it open to find Kurt on the other side - his hand raised for the knock and his eyes wide.

“Oh!” Kurt says breathlessly, “I...thought you were asleep.”

Blaine is aware of Kurt’s gaze taking in his jeans and sweater, and lack of pajamas, and curses his body for heating up at the look.

“I was just cleaning the kitchen.” Blaine whispers, something about the late hour making it feel like whispering is required. Kurt nods but isn’t forthcoming with any more words, “Not that I’m not happy to see you but...how’d you get in without the buzzer?”

Kurt chuckles lightly, “You have very accomodating neighbours.”

Blaine nods in response. Kurt looks...nervous. He keeps fidgeting with the bag over his shoulder and looking down the hall as if expecting someone to come drag him away.

“Is everything okay?” Blaine asks.

Kurt’s eyes snap back to Blaine and they are momentarily quiet, Blaine’s question forgotten, as they stare at each other. Eventually Kurt shakes his head and smiles, “Yeah, everything’s fine I just...brought something and I thought we could…” He trails off and looks down the hall again.

Blaine’s brow furrows, looking down at Kurt’s bag, “Brought what and thought we could what?”

Kurt looks back at Blaine and Blaine notices a small smile brighten Kurt’s nervous face before Kurt pinches his lips together to try and quell it. The other man reaches into the bag at his hip and pulls out a red container.

Blaine tilts his head curiously before laughing, “Whipped cream?” He asks.

Kurt lifts his eyebrows, “I thought we could…”

Blaine’s laughter dies away and he looks curiously at Kurt before he catches on, “Oh!” He says, eyes wide.

Kurt shrugs, “I mean, I know we’re friends but there’s nothing in the rulebook that says friends can’t…”

Blaine should say no. No good can come from this...okay maybe *some* good can come from this. But they’re friends. This will only complicate things...but then Kurt bites his lip and looks coyly at Blaine, and Blaine is done for.

He reaches forward and pulls Kurt in by the front of his shirt. Kurt squeaks at the movement as Blaine pushes the door closed and kisses Kurt against it.

-- -- --

Blaine runs a finger over his stomach and laughs softly at the sticky residue there. He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, and sighs as he sucks the sweetness, absently, off his finger.

“I think your whipped cream skills beat my flower skills.” Kurt sighs next to him.

Blaine smiles and looks over. Kurt is all long, smooth pale skin, ruffled hair and pink cheeks. He looks amazing and all Blaine can do is stare.

Kurt is leaning against the headboard and turns to look at Blaine with a lazy smile, “We make really good friends.”

Blaine chuckles at this before bringing his arm up to rest behind his head, “Do you think we should set up some...ground rules for this? If this is something that’s going to happen..regularly?” He’s not sure Kurt wants it to happen regularly. Blaine’s not sure if he himself wants it to be regular. 

Kurt looks thoughtful, “Probably.” He agrees. He shifts to sit cross-legged facing Blaine, Blaine’s sheet over his lap, “Okay first, no sleepovers.”

Blaine nods, that makes sense, “And we can’t tell Bethany.” He adds.

Kurt nods, “I’d say we can’t tell my dad either, but I have a feeling it will be hard to keep from him.” Blaine shrugs and nods, “But I won’t actively try to tell him.” Blaine nods again. Kurt bites his lip, “We should probably agree that this ends when I go home?”

Home. Blaine takes a deep breath at the thought. Kurt doesn’t consider Ohio home anymore, which makes sense in a way, but something about the thought makes Blaine sad. Blaine is in Ohio and probably always will be. If Kurt doesn’t consider Ohio home anymore...any flicker of hope Blaine might have had for their relationship fizzles out. This is all he’ll ever get. And it’ll last…

“When do you go back?” Blaine asks.

Kurt licks his lips, “Two weeks.”

Blaine nods and looks back up at the ceiling. Two weeks. He’ll get two weeks and then Kurt will be back in New York with his life and his boyfriend, and Blaine will be here. Can he do this?

He shifts to look back at Kurt, “And you’re okay with doing this with your…” He can’t say it outloud, “back in New York.”

Kurt seems to understand what, or rather who, he’s talking about, “We aren’t exclusive.” He reiterates and Blaine nods, “I guess I should have asked, but do you...have...someone?”

Blaine wants to laugh at the question. Someone. He hasn’t had someone since Kurt. In any way, shape, or form. 

He simply shakes his head and Kurt seems to let out a breath before nodding, “So, no sleepovers. No actively telling the people in our lives,  and it ends in two weeks. Anything else?”

Blaine wants to tell Kurt he can’t do this. He shouldn’t do this. He hasn’t decided yet if he *can* do this but he’s already pretty sure this is going to end badly for him. But then he looks at Kurt, beautiful, first - and so far only - love of his life Kurt, and he decides he’ll take what he can get. He never stopped loving Kurt. 

He just wishes Kurt hadn’t stopped loving him.

Blaine shakes his head, “I think that’s good for now.” He whispers.

Kurt nods and smiles, “All right. That works for me too.” His smile changes from happy to coy, “So I know I’m not sleeping over but...one more round?”

He’s taking what he’s offered and he’s not going to think about what happens in two weeks. He can do casual. He has to do casual if he wants this from Kurt.

He licks his lips and props himself up on his elbow, running a hand along Kurt’s thigh before tugging the sheet off his lap. Kurt’s smile grows as he stretches out to kiss Blaine back onto the bed and rolls on top of him.

Chapter Nine

Friends with benefits.

It’s not an arrangement Blaine ever thought he’d find himself in, but then again he didn’t think at fifteen he’d be the sole guardian of his seven-year-old sister. Life throws you curveballs and you either take a swing at them or get hit by them, and Blaine’s been hit by enough curveballs in the last three years that he’s decided to take a swing at this one.

Falling back into a sexual relationship with Kurt is incredibly easy. They fit together, they move well together, and chemistry has never been a problem with them. Most of their interactions now end with a panting, post-orgasmic, jumbles of limbs. And while Blaine had forgotten how exhausting frequent sex can be, he can’t deny how satisfying it is.

But then, Kurt will get up and get his clothes on. He’ll tweak one of Blaine’s toes playfully under the blanket. And then he’ll be gone (most of their trysts take place at Blaine’s house because it’s easier to hide them from Bethany than it is Burt).

It’s not that they don’t talk. Kurt still comes to hang out at the coffee shop for almost every one of Blaine’s shifts, and Blaine and Bethany still go over for Friday night dinner, but it’s all surface stuff. They talk about school, work, and family mostly. And they flirt. But it doesn’t feel like it did before. When they were dating. When they were potentially the most important people in each other’s lives. And they definitely don’t talk about why they are no longer a couple.

There’s a distance now that places them squarely in the ‘friends with benefits’ category but that also makes the whole arrangement a little less satisfying.

“How long do we have before Bethany gets dropped off from her study group?” Kurt asks on a Friday, a little over a week after they began this arrangement, already peeling Blaine out of his shirt.

“About an hour.” Blaine pants as he works on Kurt’s belt.

Kurt smirks, “Perfect.” He says. He pushes Blaine backwards and Blaine falls, bouncing on the bed. He waits for Kurt to crawl over him like he always does (like Blaine loves when he does) and isn’t disappointed after Kurt removes his own pants.

“Hey, do you want to just hang out after and you, me, and Bethany can head to your parent’s together?” Blaine asks, smoothing a hand up Kurt’s thigh.

Kurt kisses along Blaine’s throat, “Okay two things. One - never bring up Bethany or my parents while either of us has an erection.” Blaine chuckles lowly, “And two - sure.”

Blaine hums into the next kiss and surrenders to whatever Kurt wants.

They’re sitting on the couch watching TV an hour (and two orgasms) later, when Bethany gets home.

“Hey, so I asked Carole if I could stay over tonight and she said yes.” Bethany says as she makes her way into the apartment. She looks over at the couch and does a double take before smiling brightly, “Kurt!” She squeals, running over to hug him.

Kurt laughs, “Hey Annie. Good study group?”

Bethany shrugs and sits between the pair, “It was all right.” She looks at Blaine, “So can I stay over at Carole and Burt’s tonight?”

Blaine smiles at her and then looks over her head at Kurt who is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. With Bethany at Burt and Carole’s for the night, he and Kurt wouldn’t have to be quiet or sneaky…

“Sure, Annie.” He says, still looking at Kurt, who winks at him.

Bethany claps excitedly and then reaches for the remote, uncaring of what the boys were watching, to change the channel to MTV. Blaine doesn’t really notice, and he’s sure Kurt doesn’t either, as they continue to look at each other and think about all the possibilities for the night ahead.

-- -- --

“Hey Carole?” Bethany asks later that night as she and Carole sit playing crazy eights after Burt has gone to bed.

Carole ‘hmmm’s in response as she surveys her cards and the card currently on the table.

“How do you know you’re in a relationship?” Bethany asks.

Carole looks up from the table, back down at the table, and then up again sharply. She laughs softly, “Ummm why do you ask?”

Bethany shrugs, “Just curious.”

Carole looks at her for a moment before sighing, “Well, the easiest way to know you’re in a relationship is to talk about it. Ask questions. Communicate.”

Bethany nods, thoughtfully, “But what if there isn’t talking? Can you tell in other ways?”

Carole looks curiously at her, “I mean, I guess. But...why do you want to know?” She looks at Bethany with lifted brows, “Do you like someone at school?”

Bethany instantly recoils, “Ew. No. Every boy at my school is gross and immature.” She says.

Carole chuckles with a nod but then looks curious again, “Then I’m a little confused, sweetheart, about why you want to know about being in a relationship.”

Bethany sighs and wonders if she should mention anything. She hadn’t planned on saying anything, she was just...curious. She finally decides to just ask, “Are Kurt and my brother dating?” 

Carole’s eyes widen in surprise, “I...don’t know. What makes you ask?”

Bethany sighs again, “Well, they’re spending so much time together and they’re always smiling and...I don’t know.”

Carole smiles, “Bethany, adult relationships can be complicated. They aren’t always so straightforward. Blaine and Kurt may be seeing each other again or they may just be friends. Unless you ask one of them, I don’t think you’re going to get a clear answer.”

Bethany slumps, “Oh. They could be just friends?”

Carole tilts her head, “That would make you sad?”

Bethany shakes her head, “No. I mean...I don’t know.” She shrugs

Carole reaches across the table and lays a hand on Bethany’s, “My suggestion is you talk to your brother if you’re really curious. From what I’ve seen, he and Kurt have been getting a lot closer lately but that doesn’t mean they’re dating.”

“I just…” Bethany shakes her head again, not really wanting to share her true thoughts.

Carole sighs, “If it makes you feel any better, boys can sometimes be very oblivious and not really understand what’s going on even in their own relationships. And in that relationship? You have two boys.” 

Bethany giggles, “So you’re saying...boys are dumb?”

Carole laughs and pats Bethany’s hand, “Most of the time, yes. But don’t tell Burt, Finn, Kurt, or your brother that I said that.” She winks.

-- -- --

Blaine comes awake slowly to light streaming through the crack in the curtains and landing on his face. He blinks and shifts to get out of its path and stretches leisurely and notices how certain muscles twinge with the effort. He and Kurt had gotten a little...enthusiastic last night with the privacy.

He smiles into his pillow at the memory until he hears and feels movement beside him. The smile freezes on his face as Kurt grunts and shifts.

Rule number one had been no sleepovers.

“Mmmmm morning.” Kurt hums, sounding half asleep still, and Blaine feels his arms come around his waist. Blaine tries not to let Kurt’s gravelly voice and languid movements affect him.

“Kurt?” He asks. Kurt hums behind him, “It’s morning.”

It takes Kurt a second to get it, but Blaine can feel him tense when he does, “Oh.” He says into Blaine’s ear.

Blaine grimaces, “Yeah. I guess we...broke the rule.”

Blaine tries not to feel bereft when Kurt’s arm pulls back and he hears the other man shift again. He rolls around to find Kurt sitting on the edge of the bed, his straight back to Blaine.

“Sorry.” Kurt mumbles.

Blaine blinks, “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

Kurt is silent for a moment before he reaches for his pants and starts pulling them on, “No, but it’s my fault. I fell asleep. I should have left...after. I’ll go now.”

Blaine sighs, he’s not sure where this strange energy is coming from, “You don’t have to. We could...have breakfast?”

Kurt gets up to do his pants up and turns to Blaine with a haughty expression, “Breakfast together? Don’t you think we’ve already crossed a line here? I think a little damage control is in order.”

Blaine feels a sinking sense of dread. He feels whatever small piece of Kurt he had slipping away. All because they fell asleep and he suggested they eat something?

“I gotta go.” Kurt says, tugging on his shirt.

Blaine’s about to stutter out some more words when the door of the apartment opens with a loud creak, “Hey Blaine!” Bethany calls into the apartment, “Carole dropped me off! I thought we could go to the mall together!”

Blaine looks at Kurt with wide eyes to find the other man looking at the door to the bedroom with equally wide eyes. There is no way this isn’t going to end in Bethany finding out something is going on. There is no story to spin that will make this look any better.

“Blaine?” She calls when there is no response, “You better not be sleeping, you lazy bum!” The insult is said with affection and Blaine has just enough time to feel joy over the easy way she teases him before panic sets in. She’s more than likely on her way to his room.

Kurt seems to figure this out a second after he does and his head snaps to the closet door just as the door to Blaine’s bedroom opens and they are officially out of time.

“Wake up, Bl…” The rest of his name dies on his sister’s lips as her eyes widen at the scene in front of her. Kurt is fully dressed beside the bed but his hair is a riot of bedhead and Blaine is still very much naked under the sheets.

“Bethany.” He says and her eyes land on him, “Can we have a moment?” He grimaces.

Bethany looks back and forth between them before nodding and moving to leave. As she closes the door, Blaine’s pretty sure he can see her smiling and he furrows his brow at that before Kurt is moving once again.

“Well, this is just great.” Kurt mumbles as he picks up his socks and tugs one on.

“I’ll talk to her.” Blaine says and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, do that.” He says.

Blaine can understand Kurt being upset that Bethany saw what she saw, but the anger is confusing him.

Kurt straightens after putting on his other sock and pauses as he looks at Blaine, confused on the bed, “Bye.” He says shortly.

Blaine can do nothing but nod as Kurt makes his way out of the room and then out of the apartment, if he passes Bethany on the way out Blaine can’t hear any acknowledgement between the pair.

Blaine sighs and looks down at the sheets on his lap for a moment. He knows he has to go talk to Bethany but he’s not above saying he’s okay to stall as long as possible.

Eventually he figures if he doesn’t get up she’ll come looking for him so he makes his way out of bed and throws on some sweats. He’s not ready to talk to her but he figures he owes her an explanation.

-- -- --

Kurt makes it as far as the elevator before his legs won’t hold him up anymore. He hits the button for the lobby and then leans against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting with his knees to his chest. He runs a hand down his face and then both hands through his messy hair.

What is he doing? What are they doing?

He feels like he can’t breath. He has spent the past two weeks pretending he’s not still head over heels in love with Blaine and it’s getting harder and harder to keep up the act.

When he woke up next to Blaine this morning he had felt the most amazing sense of calm. It had felt right. It had felt like it used to. And then Blaine had mentioned that they broke the rules and Kurt was reminded that Blaine will never again see him that way.

He’d set the no sleepover rule to protect himself and apparently for good reason. The first time they slip up, the first thing Blaine does is point it out, and then Bethany. God, Bethany had shown up and Kurt had wanted to throw up.

He has no idea what Blaine is going to say to Bethany but Kurt hadn’t wanted anyone to know because then they’d ask questions Kurt either couldn’t answer or couldn’t answer honestly. And for it to be Bethany of all people…

The elevator dings to indicate he’s reached the lobby. He’s peripherally glad no one had come into the elevator to witness his mini-meltdown and he gets up from the floor to walk out of the building.

He’s halfway to his car when his phone rings in his back pocket. He wonders, and hopes, briefly that it’s Blaine - asking him to come back so they can talk to Bethany together. But it’s not. It’s Quintin.

Kurt runs a hand over his mouth again and answers, “Hey.” He says with a shaky exhale.

“Hey you!” Quintin enthuses on the other end and Kurt feels a spike through his stomach. Quintin is so nice, and Kurt hasn’t even thought about him in a week.

“How’s it going?” Kurt asks as he continues his way to his car. He puts a hand to his stomach to try and quell his queasiness.

“Not bad. Just thought I’d see how being at home was going for you! I haven’t heard from you in a bit, must be busy and fun!” Quintin says.

Kurt swallows as he pulls open the door to his car and gets in. He leans his head against the headrest and takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, it’s been...good.” He says with another swallow.

Quintin pauses, “That sounds like the opposite of good.”

Kurt closes his eyes, “Look, Quintin, we’ve got to talk.”

-- -- --

Blaine slowly makes his way out of his bedroom and peeks into the living room where Bethany is sitting on the couch. He coughs to announce his presence and Bethany turns to him with a smile.

Blaine’s still not used to the smiles she so freely gives him lately, but this one seems particularly strange considering the circumstances.

“So…” He starts and then pauses.

“You and Kurt are back together!” Bethany shouts, even going as far as to put her hands up in a celebratory gesture.

Blaine chokes on his spit, “Ummmm no. No, we’re not.”

Bethany’s jubilant energy fades and her arms come down as her face crumbles into confusion, “You’re...not?” She asks.

Blaine sighs and makes his way over to sit on the couch, “We aren’t dating, Bethany. We’re just...friends.” He’s not even sure they’re that anymore though.

Bethany gives him an incredulous look, “Carole was right, boys *are* dumb.”

Blaine’s eyes widen in surprise before he sighs again, “Kurt and I are just friends. And in a week when he goes back to New York, we won’t see him much anymore.”

Blaine almost doesn’t get the words out. It’s a struggle to pull them from his vocal chords and his mouth tastes awful afterwards. Nothing about Kurt going back to New York, and leaving Blaine here in Ohio, makes him feel good right now.

Bethany looks at Blaine and then pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. It looks to Blaine like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible.

“So when that happens,” She pauses and pushes some of her hair over her shoulder before continuing, “Are you going to go back to being sad?”

Blaine’s brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Bethany gives him a sad smile, “I may be twelve but I’m not stupid. You’ve been...sad. For a long time. Ever since Kurt left the first time.”

Blaine blinks. He thought he’d hidden his sadness from his sister. He thought he’d kept that part of himself from her, thought it was his job to make sure she didn’t see it, and it turns out she had all along.

“I’m not sad.” He defends even though he knows it’s useless.

Bethany rolls her eyes, “I told you I’m not dumb, Blaine.”

And suddenly, things become a lot clearer to Blaine, “Is that why you’ve been so mad at me?”

Bethany huffs and smacks the couch next to her, “I just want you to be happy!” She yells, “You’re my brother. I love you so much and I just want you to be happy and you haven’t been and that’s made me angry. Just...be happy, damnit!”

Blaine is taken aback by the outburst. His first thought is to reprimand her for her language, but the scolding dies on his lips at her hard expression, as if she’s challenging him to try and reprimand her at the moment. So, instead, he thinks about the content of her speech.

Her anger toward him was because she could see how sad he was and didn’t know how to make it better. She just wanted him to be happy and he couldn’t do that for her. He’d let her down and that had made her angry.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathes, feeling out of breath as tears form in his eyes.

Bethany pulls her top lip in and looks at him with a pained expression, “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be happy.”

Blaine, honestly, doesn’t know how to do that. He’s been so focused on Bethany for the past three years, doing everything he could to make sure she was okay and taken care of, that he’s forgotten how to make himself happy. He’s been working, going to school, and taking care of Bethany since Kurt left the first time. He didn’t have time or energy to make friends let alone date. He’s been...stuck.

“And when Kurt came back and you started to hang out more you were starting to be like my old Blaine. But now I’m afraid you’re going to go back to being sad and I don’t want to be mad at you anymore.” Bethany continues and Blaine realizes she’s crying at the same time he realizes tears have begun to fall down his own cheeks. 

Blaine is speechless. He literally doesn’t know what to say. He feels like the worst caregiver and human ever at this moment, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

He spends a few moments opening and closing his mouth like a fish before Bethany lunges forward and wraps her arms around his neck. She shuffles over so she’s sitting next to him and buries her face in his shoulder.

Blaine brings his arms up and circles them around her waist. He holds on as she cries into his shoulder and tries to think of what to say to make this better.

Chapter Ten

“More car trouble?” Burt asks, the next day, as Blaine makes his way into the garage where the older man is rearranging some tools.

Blaine smiles, sadly, and shakes his head as he hands Burt the coffee he brought for him. Burt accepts it with a nod of thanks and Blaine shoves his now free hand into his shorts pocket, “No. I came to talk.”

Burt nods, “I’m always available for that.” He says and gestures for Blaine to follow him back to the office.

Blaine follows slowly, looking around at the idle cars in varying stages of repair around him. He’s not one for vague metaphors but he’s suddenly hit with the fact that he’s like one of the cars in Burt’s garage. He just wonders in what stage of repair he’s in.

He chuckles at his own thoughts and Burt looks at him with a cocked head, “Just thought of something funny.” Blaine explains and Burt ‘ah’s as they sit across from each other in the small room.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Burt asks.

“Have you talked to Kurt?” Blaine asks.

“Not since he came home from your place yesterday.” Blaine looks over at Burt sharply. Burt sighs, “Of course I know.” Burt answers his unspoken question, “But I have a feeling your talk wasn’t as clarifying as it could have been?”

Blaine runs a hand over his face, “I don’t even know anymore, but that’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Burt shifts in his seat and nods, “Shoot.”

Blaine sighs, “Bethany and I had a talk yesterday and…” He sighs again, “I think I may be depressed?” Burt’s eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t say anything so Blaine continues, “She kept saying how sad I was, and I mean yeah I’ve been stressed since I was fifteen, hell even before I was fifteen, but these past three years have felt...different. I feel like I don’t have anything in my life, and I have no friends, and then Kurt came back and that whole thing happened and…” He can feel himself breathing faster and his heartbeat pick up in his chest.

Burt holds up a hand and it quiets Blaine’s speech, but not his heart rate, “Okay, slow down. Breathe.” Burt soothes and Blaine does just that. He takes a slow breath in and then out, and then in and out again. The pair is quiet for a minute or two as Blaine breathes, and slowly his heart starts to slow back to normal, “Good.” Burt finally says when he can see that Blaine has calmed, “Keep breathing.” He encourages. Blaine nods, “Now, I hear you and I understand.” Blaine nods again, “Have you ever thought about talking to someone?”

Blaine pauses. The thought had honestly never crossed his mind. His responsibility had been Bethany. His needs had always taken a back seat.

“You can’t take care of Bethany unless you’re taking care of yourself.” Burt says softly, “And I am here for you, and Carole is here for you. Hell, even Finn is here for you.” Blaine chuckles softly and Burt smiles, “But maybe talking to someone who is trained to help might be good?”

Blaine nods. That actually sounds like a really good idea and the reminder that Blaine has a support system makes him breathe a little easier.

Burt scrunches his nose slightly in a gesture of unease, “Now I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say next, and I’m no professional but…”

“You think I should stop sleeping with Kurt.” Blaine says bluntly.

“Bingo.” Burt sighs, “At least for right now. You need to get yourself sorted before you’re ready to be with someone else.”

Blaine nods again. He knows Burt’s right. He just wishes it didn’t feel like his heart was being ripped from his chest.

-- -- --

He calls in sick to work on Monday, and after dropping Bethany off at a friend’s house, he drives to Burt and Carole’s, hoping Kurt will be the only one home.

When he pulls into the driveway he’s thankful to find only Kurt’s car there and he takes a deep breath as he makes his way to the front door.

He hesitates only a moment before knocking and it doesn’t take long for Kurt to answer. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a soft long sleeved shirt and Blaine hates how amazingly beautiful he looks with his hair flopping over his forehead.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey.” Kurt answers, rubbing a hand up and down his arm, “Come in.” He says, gesturing into the house with his head.

Blaine follows him in and they silently make their way into the living room. Kurt sits down on the sofa while Blaine takes the chair and they fidget with their hands in their laps for a minute before Blaine sighs and figures he’ll start the conversation.

“I talked to Bethany.” He says.

“I broke up with Quintin.” Kurt answers and Blaine’s eyes widen at the admission. Kurt swallows and smoothes his hands down his thighs, “I didn’t mean to just blurt that out but...there it is.”

Blaine licks his lips and blinks, “When?” He asks for lack of anything better.

Kurt scrunches an eye shut, “After leaving your place on Saturday.” He answers.

Blaine nods and while this information shouldn’t change what he’s come here to say, it does make his heart speed up and his chest inflate with a hope he shouldn’t feel.

“But you obviously came here to say something and I just derailed the conversation so...back to you. You talked to Bethany?” Kurt asks.

Blaine takes a deep breath and nods, remembering what he wanted to say, “Yeah, I did. She...thought we were together.” He says, looking over at Kurt to see the other man inhale sharply, “I told her we weren’t.” He continues and watches as Kurt’s face becomes pained, “But we started talking about our relationship, Bethany’s and mine, and...I’ve got some stuff to fix.”

Kurt cocks his head curiously and Blaine gets a flash of Burt doing the same thing yesterday, noting briefly how similar father and son really are.

“I made some calls and I’m going to start seeing a therapist this week.” Kurt purses his lips in interest but let’s Blaine continue, “I think I’ve been so focussed on Bethany these past few years that I forgot how to take care of myself? And as it turns out, that was one of the main things hurting our relationship. I need some help figuring out a balance. Figuring out how to be me AND her guardian.” Kurt nods in understanding, and Blaine looks up at him through his lashes, “And I think to do that I have to narrow my focus. I have to only focus on me...and her.”

He waits to see Kurt’s reaction and is rewarded (though it doesn’t feel like a reward) with another pained expression from Kurt who slumps against the couch, “Oh.” He says softly.

“Things are just so complicated right now and I need to simplify them for a while, I think, and find a way to make everything work and…” Blaine begins to ramble but Kurt sits up straight and reaches for his hands, clasping them in his and causing Blaine to stop talking.

“Hey, no, you sound like you’re apologizing.” He says, “You have nothing to apologize for. I get it. I was just momentarily...disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Blaine asks.

Kurt smiles, “I think you’re right that you need to narrow your focus and I am not what you should be focusing on right now, but...it’s always been you, Blaine.”

Blaine is breathless. He literally can’t breathe. Kurt looks up at him through his lashes with a smile, “I’m sorry if that complicates things more, and I promise to leave you to focus on what you need to focus on but maybe...when you’ve worked some stuff out...we could...talk?”

Blaine is nodding before Kurt even finishes the question and the other man laughs softly before cupping Blaine’s cheek in his and kissing him softly. It’s not the start of anything, but it feels like a promise.

Chapter Eleven

“The next person to say the words ‘composition’ has to take a shot and I will not hear another word to the contrary!” Blaine chuckles as Miles shouts louder than necessary to their group of five.

Miles is a guy from Blaine’s music theory class. Actually their entire group of five, sitting in a circular booth at the bar, is from Blaine’s music theory class. They’re a good group, if not a little more into shots than Blaine is, or can be.

“I think that’s my cue to call it a night.” He says and is instantly booed, “All right, all right, all right. I get it. I’m old.” He says.

Carrie, a blonde haired girl with glasses to his left, slings an arm around his shoulders, “You’re not old. You’re just responsible.” He doesn’t miss the way Miles tightens an imaginary tie around his neck as if that represents ‘responsible’.

“Well, either way, I have to be up early tomorrow to take Bethany to school before work. So I’ll leave you all to your shots.” Blaine says, sliding out of the booth and grabbing his jacket.

“We love you, Blaine. Come back to us!” Cruz is a drama major and it shows.

Blaine chuckles again, “I’ll see you all in class on Thursday.” He says and as he leaves he hears a shout of ‘Or for pool on Wednesday!’ He waves over his shoulder to let them know he’s heard them but continues to walk outside.

The cool November air bites at his skin and he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. He misses the warmth of summer but as he makes his way to his car, he can’t help but think about how different his life is from five months ago.

He’s...happy.

He takes a deep breath at the thought and lets it out in a puff of white vapor from his nostrils. As he watches the cloud dissipate, he’s reminded of Marko, one of his students’, assessment of cold breath.

“Winter makes us all dragons, Mr. Anderson!” The eight year old had enthused while he and Blaine had been waiting for his mother to come get him.

“How’s that, Marko?” Blaine had asked.

Marko breathed aggressively out of his nose and the white streams had shot down toward his chest, “Dragon breath!”

Blaine lets another stream of ‘dragon breath’ out as he gets to his car. One thing that’s different about his life? He quit his job at the coffee shop at the beginning of August and now works full time giving music lessons to kids. He’s not sure if it’s what he wants to do for the rest of his life, but as his therapist had said - at least it’s something he’s passionate about *now*. Making coffee had never been a passion. It had been a necessary job. But now he has both a job and a passion.

He’d also switched from business to music classes at the community college.

“I don’t think I can make a viable living with a music degree, especially from a community college in Ohio.” Blaine had said to his therapist, Diana, when she’d suggested it.

She’d shaken her head, “You are twenty-one, Blaine. Your main concern right now shouldn’t be what will make a viable career.” She’d held up her hand when he’d tried to protest, “I know you have Bethany, and it’s admirable that you want to do what’s best for her, but you are secure financially, correct?” Blaine had nodded, “Then take a chance, Blaine. Do what you *want* to do for a while instead of what you think you *should* do. You literally have your whole life to make a sensible decision, your early twenties isn’t necessarily that time. And there is nothing to say music can’t be a viable career.”

Blaine had disagreed with her general theory at first but had agreed to try taking one music course along with his business courses in September...and by mid-October he had transferred out of all of his business courses, except one, and opted into all music courses. They made him feel alive, and that was the feeling he’d been trying to chase.

Which is also why he now has what normal, well-adjusted people would call friends. Friends had been something Blaine felt he didn’t have the time or energy for, but with Diana’s encouragement, Blaine had reached out to a couple of people in his music theory class, and now he has a group of people he goes out with regularly and who are becoming, even after such a short time, a good group of friends.

As Blaine pulls into the parking lot of his building he takes another deep breath and lets it out. He’s got a lot of work still to do, but the lighter feeling in his chest as of late is something he wants to nurture.

He lets himself into the apartment as quietly as he can to find Carole sitting on the couch, raptly watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy on the television.

She looks up startled when he comes in and then laughs self-consciously and pauses the television, “There’s just been a plane crash. Things are tense.” She says.

Blaine chuckles, “Things are always tense on that show.”

Carole shrugs and gets up to hug Blaine to her. Blaine goes easily and takes the comfort she provides, “Bethany’s been in bed since eight and asleep since nine when I finally took away her iPad I didn’t realize she still had.” Blaine chuckles again, “Did you have a good night?”

Blaine nods, “Yeah, it was great. Thank you so much, Carole.”

Carole smiles, “Anytime, sweetheart. Though, I think next time it’ll be Burt who watches her. Apparently she’s teaching him how to use Twitter.”

“God help us all.” Blaine laughs and Carole laughs with him before kissing his cheek and seeing herself out.

Blaine turns off the television and flicks on a lamp that casts a soft glow on the apartment as he picks up a fallen blanket and straightens up a little before heading to bed. 

He’s halfway down the hall when Bethany’s door opens and she leans out, “Hey.” He whispers as she looks at him bleary-eyed.

“When did you get home?” She asks.

“Not long ago. I’ve been home maybe ten minutes?” He guesses. She nods, “Did you need something?”

She shakes her head and looks at him with a squinted eye against the light of the hallway. Her open eye looks cloudy with sleep, “Did you have fun?” She asks.

Blaine smiles, “Yeah. I did.” He says.

Bethany nods, “Good.” She nods again, “Good.”

They’re quiet for a moment before Blaine smiles again, “You should head back to bed.” He says.

Bethany nods and then does something that even after five months still shocks Blaine slightly and causes his heart to grow in size every time. She shuffles forward and wraps her arms around his waist in a hug. He hugs her back and kisses the top of her head.

The thing that has made him the happiest over the past five months has been his relationship with his sister. They still squabble and fight, but the closeness and fondness that had been missing has returned. They hug more freely, laugh more heartily, and smile more easily with each other, and Blaine is forever thankful for the change.

“Night, big brother.” Bethany whispers as she shuffles back to her room.

“Night, Annie.” He whispers back and then her door is closed and he makes his way to his own room.

He changes into a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and then sits on his bed to check his phone one last time. He’s got a text from Burt saying he forgot his Twitter password that Blaine decides he’ll answer in the morning as he chuckles and rolls his eyes fondly. He’s also got a text from Miles stating vehemently that Cruz was in fact the first one to say ‘composition’ but that everyone had vowed it had been Miles so he’d had to take an unjustified shot. Blaine laughs and rolls his eyes at this one too, texting back that the world is cruel sometimes.

There are no other new texts or emails on his phone so he’s got nothing left to do but to do the same thing he does every time he goes to bed lately. He flips to his contacts and lets his thumb hover over Kurt’s name in the list.

He hasn’t pressed the button once since Kurt left to go back to New York at the end of June, and Kurt hasn’t tried to contact him either, but that hasn’t stopped him from wanting to every night.

He constantly wonders what Kurt is up to, how his life in New York is going, and how often he may be thinking of Blaine. He does ask Burt how Kurt is doing and Burt always says that Kurt is doing fine and gives him updates on his classes and other things, but it’s never enough and Blaine feels like he’s thirsty for Kurt information. Thirsty for Kurt himself.

He sighs and lets his thumb fall away from his phone, like he’s also done every night for five months. Maybe one day soon he’ll press the connect button. He thinks he’s almost ready.

Chapter Twelve

Kurt is bored. There is no way around it. He doesn’t want to hear another word about fashion marketing. He wants to go home and sleep, or eat some cheesecake, or go out for coffee with Rachel. Really anything would beat his current situation.

Kurt loves school. He really does. But he’s getting a little bit of senior-itis at the moment. It’s his last year of school and he’s kind of done with the whole thing. He wants to be graduated and starting the next phase of his life. And while he doesn’t know exactly what the next phase of his life is going to look like, he finds thinking about it exciting...as opposed to whatever it is his professor is droning on about. He is not excited about that right now.

Finally, mercifully, his class is dismissed and he packs his bag and puts his jacket on, already texting Rachel to see if she’s free for coffee.

His attention is on his phone as he exits the NYU building and he doesn’t notice until too late when his body collides with another at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He apologizes, instantly.

He looks up to make eye contact with who he hit, and his breath instantly catches in his throat. Those eyes, those eyes that he would know anywhere at anytime no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen them in person (five months, three weeks, and six days - but who’s counting?) are currently staring back at him.

Attached to those eyes is a smiling mouth, but that’s all Kurt gets a chance to catalogue before he’s being ‘attacked’ by a set of arms around his throat, “Kurt!”

Kurt chuckles in both confusion and delight as he brings his arms up around Bethany, “Hey Annie!” He says, still looking at Blaine who is still looking at him with a smile, his chin slightly obscured by a soft looking scarf wrapped around his neck and inside the blue winter jacket he’s wearing.

“We wanted to surprise you!” Bethany says as she lets him go and moves to stand back next to Blaine.

Kurt chuckles, “Well, I’m definitely surprised.” 

Blaine chuckles as well, “Do you...have time for a walk? A coffee?” He asks.

Kurt nods, “Yeah, just let me text Rachel quickly. We were going to meet for coffee.”

“Oh, don’t let us change your plans.” Blaine says, but Kurt waves him off.

“It’s no big deal. I’m...so happy you’re here.” He says for lack of any other articulate way of telling Blaine how amazing it is that he’s standing here now.

Blaine nods and smiles as Kurt quickly texts Rachel that he won’t be able to make it after all and then the trio begin to make their way through the streets toward Washington Square Park.

-- -- --

Blaine had debated whether this was a good idea. Well, debated and talked to Diana and Burt and Carole about it ad nauseum. But when all three of them confirmed that this was a good, if not great idea, he’d decided to just go for it. He’d made arrangements, told Bethany’s school she’d be out for a few days, postponed his lessons, and here they are. In New York City. Keeping the visit a surprise from Kurt had been a debate in and of itself, but Blaine had breathed a little easier at the look on Kurt’s face when he’d seen them.

“So, what brings you to New York?” Kurt asks as they walk the park with their coffees (hot chocolate for Bethany).

“Uhhhh a lot of things actually.” Blaine says, not sure where or how to start. He should have rehearsed what he wanted to say.

Kurt nods, “Well, I meant what I said, I’m really happy you guys are here.”

Blaine smiles, “We’re happy to be here, too.”

Bethany turns around from where she’d been walking in front of them a little ways and nods at them, confirming her own happiness. Blaine gives her a look and she nods again and smiles at him before pulling out her earbuds and sticking them in her ears. She continues to walk ahead and take in the sights around her, but Blaine knows she can’t hear them and he’s thankful to her for the privacy.

Kurt doesn’t seem to notice the exchange, and as Blaine turns back to look at him he can tell Kurt is trying to act calm and natural but he also knows that this must be more than a little shocking to Kurt after almost six months of no contact.

He owes Kurt an explanation, he’s just not sure how to order that explanation. Again, he berates himself for not planning a speech.

“Did your Dad tell you I started taking music at school?” He starts and Kurt startles slightly at the abruptness.

He seems to recover quickly though, nodding his head, “He did. He also told me you’re teaching music to kids?”

Blaine nods, “Yeah. It’s amazing. Watching them finally figure out a piece or understand music theory? It’s great.”

Kurt smiles, “That’s amazing.” He says.

Blaine nods and takes a deep breath, “That actually...is part of the reason why we’re here.” He gestures forward to Bethany, who is currently dancing as she walks to the music in her ears, and he pauses a moment to smile at his sister’s back.

Kurt furrows his brow, “Oh?” He asks.

Blaine takes another deep breath, “Yeah. I’ve, uh, switched my major to music and after talking with Bethany and my therapist...and Burt and Carole...I’ve...applied to NYU for the spring semester.”

Kurt stops walking.

Blaine walks ahead of him a few steps before doubling back. He keeps an eye on Bethany as she, too, stops and looks at the art from a vendor further up, but his main attention is on Kurt who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Kurt? Are you okay?” Blaine asks.

Kurt seems to shakes himself out of his trance and looks to Blaine, “You...you what?”

“I applied to NYU for the spring semester.” Blaine reiterates, “And...I was accepted.”

Kurt blinks at him, owlishly, and Blaine wonders if he somehow broke Kurt’s brain, or if Kurt is so against the idea that he’s speechless.

“And while this doesn’t necessarily have to have anything to do with you.” Blaine continues, “I...wanted to let you know in case…” He trails off and Kurt looks at him with wide eyes.

“In case what?” He asks breathlessly.

“In case you WANTED it to have something to do with you.” Blaine finishes lamely.

Kurt swallows, “I need to sit down.” He says.

Blaine immediately looks around for a bench but Kurt shakes his head, “Not here. Can we...go back to my place? I need to be warm and in a comfy chair.”

Blaine nods, “Of course.” He says. He gestures to Bethany who walks over to them, pulling her earbuds out.

“We’re going to head to Kurt’s for a bit.” He tells her and she nods, her eyes flickering to Kurt’s silent white face every few seconds. Blaine turns to Kurt who is staring off into the middle distance, “You’re going to have to lead the way.” Blaine says and Kurt once again shakes himself out of whatever stupor he’s in, nods and leads the pair to the street where he hails a cab.

Blaine wishes he could read how Kurt is feeling but he’s lost and the entire way to Kurt’s apartment he tries to brace himself for this going badly.

He tries to remind himself that he doesn’t need Kurt to be happy. That he is whole and worthy of happiness all on his own, but he can’t help but feel like Kurt’s refusal would be a blow to the progress he’s made.

He tries to be present in the moment though, like Diana had taught him, and looks out the window with Bethany as they slowly make their way through traffic.

-- -- --

Kurt’s apartment is small but perfectly Kurt. It’s furnished with eclectic furniture and the colour pallete is deep and warm. Blaine unwinds his scarf and takes off his jacket, handing it to Kurt to put away as he takes in the pictures on Kurt’s wall.

His breath catches when he sees a picture of himself, Kurt, and Bethany from their senior year. It had been taken at an ice rink around Christmas time and Bethany had been standing between the pair with her arms wrapped around each of them. All three have huge smiles on their faces. Blaine feels his heart warm at the fact that Kurt would have such a picture in his home and he feels hope begin to build once again.

“Bethany, why don’t you take my laptop and watch Netflix in my room?” Kurt says, handing her the device and she goes without complaint, smiling at the pair before disappearing into the room Kurt indicates.

Kurt gestures for Blaine to take a seat on the couch and he takes it while Kurt sits on the other side. They look at each other and then away, a sudden nervous, awkward energy around them.

“So...tell me again?” Kurt asks eventually.

Blaine recounts his decision to apply to NYU after deciding it’s where he felt he and Bethany would get the most benefit. He tells Kurt about how moving near the end of Bethany’s eighth grade year wasn’t ideal but she’d start high school in New York so it was as close to perfect timing as they could get. He tells Kurt that while Kurt was one of the reasons they’d decided on New York he wasn’t the ONLY reason and how that, according to his therapist, was an important factor in this being the right decision.

“So what I’m saying,” Blaine says finally after explaining himself, “is that I’m ready to give us a try. If you still are, I mean.”

He’s done a lot of talking. And Kurt’s done a lot of listening. But now Blaine stops and looks expectantly at Kurt.

Kurt is looking back at him with a partially shell-shocked expression, and Blaine has to force himself not to keep rambling. He wants to give Kurt the chance to think about this. For all Blaine knows, Kurt is seeing someone else, and while that would hurt, Blaine knows he’ll be okay. He’d like Kurt in his life and if the only way he can get him is friendship...he’ll be okay.

Kurt is quiet for so long that Blaine starts to feel slightly awkward. He starts to think maybe he should suggest he and Bethany leave and let Kurt think about it on his own, until Kurt once again shakes himself from his thoughts and turns to look at Blaine.

“I am so sorry.” He says.

Blaine furrows his brow. Sorry? For what?

But before he can ask, Kurt is continuing, “I am so sorry for how we broke up.” Blaine inhales sharply, “I was dumb and selfish and *such* an idiot and you did not deserve that.”

“It’s…” Blaine starts but Kurt interrupts him with a wave of his hand.

“No, it’s not okay.” He says, “I...have spent the last three years trying to tell myself you’d never take me back and that I was over you but...I was never over you.”

“So, what are you saying?” Blaine asks, breathlessly.

Kurt reaches forward and takes his hand, “I’m saying that I’m sorry and that if you’ll have me...I would love to make up for lost time and love you the way I should have all those years ago.”

Blaine feels tears pool in  his eyes and he can’t seem to catch his breath. He had prepared himself for this not ending well. He hadn’t prepared himself for this.

“So...will you have me?” Kurt asks.

Blaine looks deep into Kurt’s eyes, eyes he’s loved longer than he’s known Kurt’s name, and smiles, “Of course. If you’ll have me...well...us.” He says, gesturing to Kurt’s bedroom door behind which Bethany sits.

Kurt lets out a wet laugh and pulls Blaine to him, “For as long as you’ll let me.” He whispers before sealing his mouth to Blaine’s in a kiss.

Blaine’s last thought before he can focus on nothing but the mouth on his and the hands on his body is he hopes Kurt’s okay with the idea of forever. Because, right now, that’s how long he envisions this lasting.

February 1st - take my picture now (shake it 'til you see it) Author: Civillove Artist:  Kanversrph Blaine likes to call this part of his life as being 'the flavor of the month'. While he enjoys being a successful model, he feels like the industry keeps taking little pieces of him. When he meets Sebastian, a nature photographer, he feels like he might get those pieces back.

February 3rd - Nothing Can Keep Us Apart Author: TeddysHoney Artist:  Riverance Blaine is a Prince whose father was killed by King Burt's army. Blaine lives with his mother near King Burt's castle. One day, Prince Kurt sees him drawing water, and Kurt sneaks into the village to meet Blaine. They see one another in secret for a while. A war begins, however, and Blaine must go and fight. Kurt looks for him every day, waiting for him to return. He has no idea that Blaine has been captured by the enemy or that he's waiting for his brother to help him escape certain death. Once the war is over, Burt decides it is time for Kurt to find a mate. No one is good enough in Kurt's eyes, however. After realizing that Blaine may not be coming home and a pleasant evening spent in the arms of another man, Kurt sneaks off into the woods to cry, convinced he'll have to marry someone else and that Blaine is dead. Blaine surprises him in the forest, and, having convinces an indebted priest to marry them, the two are wed. Instead of returning to the castle, however, they decide to fend for themselves in the lawless forests surrounding the kingdoms. February 5th - Ships That Pass In The Night Author: Delightful_Fear Artist:  JudeAraya    Blaine has a great life, with people packing into his piano bar six nights a week as they sail to some of the most beautiful places in the world.  He’s not lacking for beautiful men to share his bed either.  Why would meeting the aloof counter-tenor in a touring Broadway group change anything?  

February 7th - Life in Repair Author: Room108 Artist:  SeblaineAddict  In the wake of his most recent break-up with Kurt, Blaine returns home to Lima to lick his wounds and reclaim some measure of happiness. An unexpected opportunity to travel to Thailand with former friend (and sometimes nemesis) Sebastian Smythe, proves to be just the salve he needs. As their bond strengthens through the ups and downs of life on the road, Sebastian and Blaine revisit their lingering spark from high school and must decide whether it’s worth re-igniting or if it will be snuffed out for good.

February 9th - Bicycle Patrol Unit Author: Carmelcoffeeaddict Artist:   Lallagoglee   When NYPD bicycle cop, Blaine Anderson, begins to fall for Kurt Hummel - the gorgeous man that he first notices jogging through the park during Blaine's patrol - it causes a rift between him and his patrol partner, Sebastian Smythe.

February 11th - The Silver-Scaled Mark Author: Jayhawkwrites Artist:  Michaelscribbles   Blaine is a half-elf living in a town of full-blooded elves. He doesn’t fit in and is bullied almost daily for his heritage. One day Blaine finds solace in the library and later finds a book that talks about the magic in his world. He is drawn to it and wants to learn all he can. After Blaine has consumed all of the books in his town, he goes off to college to become a wizard so that he can help protect those that are not able to adequately defend themselves. Once he has graduated, he finds that he and several companions are part of a prophecy that will help unite the races in his world. February 13th - Out of the Blue Author: Lilyvandersteen Artist: Redheadgleek Kurt organises a fake wedding for Brittana to get presents from random billionaires. Cooper is one of those invited, and he shows up with his brother in tow. Sparks fly, but not of the good kind. Enemies to lovers, anyone? With a slight Pride and Prejudice vibe? 

February 15th - Let It Be Me Author: Darriness Artist:  Usurix It's been three years since Blaine fell in love with Kurt but between college, jobs, social lives, and parenting his twelve-year-old sister, can Blaine manage it all? 

February 17th - Wouldn't Change A Thing Author: Slaydiest Artist:  Datshitrandom  One the eve of his junior year at Dalton, Blaine’s dad kicks him out of the house, dumping him at the bus stop, cutting him off, and leaving him homeless. This is the story of how he survives, meets Kurt, and ultimately triumphs.  February 19th - Here You Come Again Author: Kaianieves Artist:  Kanversrph It's senior for Blaine, and just when things should be falling into place, he finds them falling apart. He's got a crush- hopefully nothing more than that- on his best friend, and a dance that he would rather do anything other than plan. Blaine's conflicted- should he sit out, be miserable and hope that this year passes by in a blur? Or should he embrace it, enjoy it and maybe even shoot his shot? February 21st - A Very Seblaine Christmas Author: MrsTotten Artist:  SeblaineAddict Blaine loves his family and friends, he really does. But after a bad break up they just won’t leave him alone it doesn’t matter that everything else is going great, everyone is fixated on whether he is finally dating again. None of this is helped by his ex fiancé proposing to his new boyfriend at top of the rock and now all anyone can focus on is blaine love life or lack thereof. And now he’s heading home for the holidays. A whole week of crazy family, new directioners and so he tells a tiny white lie, that his new boyfriend his joining him for Christmas. Whilst waiting on a delayed flight and trying to figure out how to break the truth to everyone he bumps into the last person he expected to see, the flirty, charming green eyed ex warbler who was always able to find a way under his skin. Over a whiskey and a catch up an idea forms and Sebastian agrees to be his fake date for the holidays. But as Sebastian finds himself engulfed in the warm, happy madness of Blaine’s family and friends and warbler reunions, Blaine starts to see a new side to his old friends and as ex boyfriends, meddling friends and well meaning family start to get involved. This fake relationship could end up being the most real thing these crazy boys have.