#kblreversebang2014

There had been many nights like this one since Mom had passed away.

Kurt was staring at the stuffed toys on the middle shelves of the huge bookshelf he had covering one of the walls of his room. On the higher shelves were coloring books and fairytale books that Kurt himself couldn’t reach, but he would be able to when he was older. For now, Dad had to get the books for him. But he could get the stuffed toys. Dad had told him that if the light didn’t help him sleep, maybe he could try having one of those toys with him. Then again, Mom had told him when she was in the hospital that, now that he was eight, he was a grown-up; from what Kurt had seen, grown-ups didn’t sleep with stuffed toys.

Oh, but he’d had so much trouble sleeping lately, maybe he could try it…

Kurt got up from his bed, and he made his way to the bookshelf, to one of the lower shelves so that he could grab a stuffed little boy that Mom had sewn for him before she went to the hospital the first time. The doll had black threads of hair and brown buttons for eyes, and he wore a yellow bowtie around his neck, a white shirt and yellow pants. And black little shoes to go with his hair.

“One of them can protect you for me,” Dad had said, referring to his stuffed toys in general. “As soon as you close your eyes, whatever toy you choose is gonna come alive and help you sleep so that you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“What if I have nightmares?” Kurt had asked, because if he could sleep for more than a few hours, he was surely going to dream something, and that something may not be that nice.

“He’s gonna slay all nightmares that want to invade your dreams,” Dad had assured him. “And when you wake up, he’ll be sleeping so that he can wake up when it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Do you really think it’s gonna work?”

“You’re not gonna lost anything if you try,” his dad had answered.

Now Kurt climbed back into bed with the stuffed little boy in his arms and pulled the bed cover up to his chin. Then he held the stuffed toy in his hands and looked straight into his button eyes. “You heard my dad,” he whispered to him. “You’re supposed to protect me, okay? I’m counting on you.”

He knew better than to expect an answer; stuffed toys only came alive when no one was watching.

“Good,” Kurt murmured, and he was surprised to feel a yawn coming out of his mouth. He hadn’t yawned while being in bed in days. “Goodnight,” he mumbled, not wanting to give the stuffed boy a name yet. If this didn’t work, what was the point? He would name him tomorrow, and only if he woke up in the morning instead of in the middle of the night.

Kurt turned on his side and closed his eyes.

*

He was lying down on a meadow where the grass was incredibly tall, and he could see it even though he wasn’t standing. Kurt had never gone to a meadow, but he’d seen a lot of those in picture books, so he was pretty sure he was in one. He carefully sat up and then got to his feet. Around him were nothing more than flowers and more grass and more flowers and more grass. The sky was clear, and there were white clouds that were so fluffy, they looked like pillows.

Kurt turned around, and there was a boy standing in front of him.

The boy was smaller than Kurt. He had black, curly hair and brown eyes, and he was wearing really weird clothes: he looked like one of the knights in the fairytale books Mom used to read to him when he wasn’t a grown-up. He also had a bow across his chest, and there was a quiver full of arrows slung on his shoulder.

“Oh, hi!” the boy said with a joyful grin. “Who are you?”

“Um…” Kurt blinked. “I’m Kurt. And you?”

“My name’s Blaine,” the boy said as he did a little bow with the upper half of his body, as if he were really a knight and he were bowing down to a princess. “It’s really nice to meet you, Kurt!”

“It’s… nice to meet you too, Blaine,” Kurt said. This boy was being very friendly, and he wasn’t really used to other kids being friendly with him. Well, not boys, at least. The girls at school didn’t think it was weird that he liked to play with dolls and make his Power Rangers get married, but other boys did.

“How did you get here?” Blaine asked him, narrowing his eyes in curiosity. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“I…” Kurt looked around. He didn’t remember falling asleep, so he wasn’t all that sure he was dreaming. “I don’t know.”

“Ah, well, that’s okay,” Blaine said, smiling again. “You can stay with me until you have to get back home!”

Kurt didn’t know if he was dreaming or if all of this was in his head or if he would ever get back home to his room, but Blaine seemed to be pretty nice, and he was inviting Kurt to stay with him until he… well, until he stopped being here, probably. Blaine held out his hand towards him, and Kurt hesitantly took it. He’d only ever held hands with the other kids at school because they went on school trips and they were forced to hold hands; he’d never done it because the other kid wanted to.

“I’ve never gone to a playdate,” Kurt admitted, looking down at the ground between him and Blaine as they walked. He’d had tea parties with Mom, and then with Dad, but he’d never gone to another kid’s house to play with them.

Blaine stopped walking and turned to look back at him. “What’s a playdate?” he asked.

Kurt wasn’t sure of how to answer. “You… don’t know what’s a playdate?” Blaine shook his head, and Kurt had to take a moment before he responded. What boy didn’t know what a playdate was? Then again, Blaine was dressed like a baby knight, and he had bowed to Kurt after meeting him. Maybe he was a little weird. Kurt immediately felt bad thinking about his new friend—at least, he assumed Blaine was his friend—as weird, when other kids thought about him as weird.

“Well,” Kurt began, “a playdate is when you go to a friend’s house and you play together.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing!” Blaine said, like it was the best thing he had ever heard of. “I guess we’re having a playdate, then!” He turned around and started walking again, and Kurt had no other option than to follow him.

Not that he didn’t like holding Blaine’s hand and walking with him or anything. So far, it was kind of nice.

No matter how much they walked, Kurt couldn’t see anything past the meadow they were in. All around them, the grass and the flowers seemed to go on forever, but Blaine appeared to know exactly where he was going. He never slowed the pace, he never lessened his grip on Kurt’s hand… where was he leading them to? Were they just going to walk around forever, or until they got to the edge of the world?

“Are we there yet?” Kurt asked, even though Dad didn’t like it when he did that. He hadn’t said that since Mom was with them, so it felt kind of strange.

“Almost,” Blaine said, instead of the usual Not yet, Kurt, he always got from his dad. “My house is right over there. Do you see it, right there?” Blaine pointed with his finger to the horizon, and where there had been nothing before, Kurt saw a small house painted light brown, with a window on the front and a beige ceiling. There was no door, though, not from where they were right now.

“Yeah, I see it,” Kurt said. “You live there?”

“That’s right!” Blaine said. “I live with my mother and my father, but they’re rarely home.”

“Really? Why?” Kurt couldn’t believe a boy his age—because Kurt guessed Blaine was around his age—lived mostly by himself. The house looked kind of small, and he didn’t think Blaine had any toys or things to entertain himself with. What were they going to do in this playdate? Kurt had only grabbed the stuffed little boy on his shelf to help him sleep, he didn’t have any other toys.

“Because they have jobs in the village,” Blaine answered.

Kurt was now more confused than he’d been with the mysteriously appearing house in the middle of the meadow. “The village?”

Blaine looked over his shoulder. “Yes, the village,” he said with a little smile. “Well, Mother does. She prepares remedies for anyone who’s sick, and Father hunts in the woods outside the village.”

Mother. Father. Blaine wasn’t weird, but he did talk kind of funny. Kurt called his parents Mom and Dad, not Mother and Father. Only people in his fairytale books talked like that. Was Kurt in a fairytale he didn’t know about? Maybe this was the beginning of a fairytale, the part that books never included.

“So your mom’s like a doctor?” Kurt asked.

Blaine stopped walking, and he stood in front of Kurt. They were only a few feet away from the little light-brown painted house now. Then he grinned like he did when he first saw Kurt, like there was nothing else he could think of doing.

“We’re almost there,” Blaine said. “Come on.”

*

Kurt opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. He felt like he was outside his house and the sun was shining down upon him, or like someone had turned on the lights on his room while he was still asleep. He reached for the covers of his bed, grabbed them, and pulled them over his head. Then there was a knock on his door before it was pushed open.

“Kurt? Buddy, are you awake?”

“Nooooooo,” Kurt said, yawning underneath his bed covers, and he heard Dad close the door. He didn’t want to get up yet, he was too tired, and if he was correct, it was Saturday, so he didn’t have to get up until ten in the morning…

Wait. His dad had asked him if he was awake. Kurt had covered his eyes because he felt like someone had turned on the lights.

He was still asleep. He was still asleep.

He’d slept through the night. He hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night, and he hadn’t had any nightmares. He’d only had a very weird dream involving a boy around his age called Blaine, but there hadn’t been any nightmares.

Kurt hadn’t woken up. He had actually slept through the entire night.

He kicked off the covers of his bed and looked for the stuffed little toy he’d kept in his arms when he’d fallen asleep. Where was the little guy? He wasn’t on the bed… he wasn’t on the floor… Kurt got down from his bed and looked underneath his—there it was! He reached underneath his mattress for the stuffed toy and pulled it out, holding it in his hands in front of him.

Kurt noticed that the stuffed boy’s hair and eyes made him look like Blaine, who also had black hair and brown eyes. Of course, his weren’t button eyes, but they were brown, too. And Blaine had been wearing clothes like the ones his book characters always wore, contrary to his stuffed toy, who had a white shirt, a yellow bowtie and pants, and black shoes.

Thanks to him, Kurt had been able to sleep, just like Dad had said it would.

“Thank you, Blaine,” Kurt told the stuffed toy, deciding that he was going to name it like the boy he’d met on his weird dream. He wrapped an arm around it, hugged it to his chest, and went out of his room to go have breakfast.

*

Every time Kurt saw himself in a meadow, he knew he was dreaming.

Every time Kurt appeared in the meadow, Blaine was already waiting for him.

The night after he’d first seen him, as soon as he fell asleep, Kurt was a little surprised when he saw the grass and the flowers again, and now Blaine was immediately next to him. “There you are!” he’d cried out gleefully. “You left so suddenly yesterday that I was starting to believe you wouldn’t come here again!”

Kurt realized that Blaine was practically the same as his doll: he was awake when Kurt was asleep, and whenever Kurt was awake, a night would pass for Blaine so that they were together in Kurt’s dreams, when it was morning for Blaine. Every night, before he fell asleep, Kurt put something under his pillow, and no matter what it was, it would show up along with him in the strange land he was transported to, wherever it was that Blaine lived.

Now he’d brought his Walkman, which his father had recently given him for his ninth birthday.

“So what is this thing?” Blaine asked him, taking it in his hands.

Kurt tried not to laugh at him. He loved seeing Blaine’s reactions when he brought him things from the “Otherland,” as Blaine called his home. “It’s called a Walkman,” Kurt answered. “See, you put in something called a tape, and then you press this button—”

“What are these?” Blaine questioned as he reached for the headphones attached to the device.

“Oh, they’re headphones,” Kurt explained. “You put them over your head, and when you press this button, you hear the music from the tape, like this.” He put the headphones on Blaine’s ears, pressed Play, and saw Blaine as he began listening to the music.

“This is wonderful!” Blaine shouted, probably because he thought Kurt wouldn’t be able to hear him over the sound. “What’s this music called?”

“The Beatles!” Kurt screamed.

*

“So let me see if I understand,” Blaine said as he flipped the pages of one of Kurt’s fairytale books. “These are stories that people used to tell years and years ago?”

“Well, with us, at least,” Kurt replied. “I don’t know if these stories have already been told with you or if the Brothers Grimm even exist here.”

Blaine looked up at him. “The Brothers Grimm?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “It’s kind of a long story. They were these brothers who used to tell these stories to the people they lived with. Then the stories were written down and they were put in books for us to read now!”

“And who painted the pictures on the book?” Blaine asked him, looking down at the picture of a prince climbing Rapunzel’s tower.

Kurt blinked in confusion. “I… don’t know. I can look for it when I go back home, and I can tell you tomorrow!”

“Yes, that’d be great!” Blaine continued flipping the pages of the book, and he stopped when he got to the tale of Rumplestiltskin. “Now tell me, why didn’t the princess tell the king that she didn’t know how to spin straw into gold?”

*

“Remind me why we’re cleaning my room again?” Kurt asked his father, who was putting Kurt’s stuffed toys into cardboard boxes. Kurt himself was trying to help, but he kept getting distracted by the drawings in the sketchbooks he’d filled through the ages of ten to thirteen.

“Because we’re donating everything you don’t want anymore,” his dad said. “By the way, you could come help me anytime you want.”

Kurt put his sketchbooks aside—he wasn’t going to throw those away, just as he wasn’t going to throw away the drawings he liked the most from when he was younger—and grabbed a cardboard box. He reached up to the higher shelves of his bookshelf to grab his fairytale books; the coloring books were no use, they were already done. The one book he wanted to keep was under his pillow, and he was keeping it only because Blaine liked to read it with him every once in a while.

Once everything Kurt didn’t want anymore was put away in boxes, Kurt turned back to the table right next to his bed, where he kept a lamp and…

His Blaine doll.

His Blaine stuffed toy, the one with black threads of hair and brown button eyes that had finally allowed him to sleep properly after his mother’s death.

“Dad,” Kurt began, looking around the undone sheets of his bed. Maybe it’d fallen on top of it and Kurt hadn’t seen it. “Where’s the stuffed toy I had on the bedside table?”

“What stuffed toy?” his father asked.

“The one Mom sewed for me when I was seven,” Kurt said, seeking desperately for it around the cardboard boxes on the floor.

“Your mother sewed a lot of stuffed toys for you.”

“No, my mom bought me a lot of stuffed toys,” Kurt said. Where was the goddamn Blaine doll? “The one with the black hair and the little button eyes. It was on my bedside table.”

“Kurt, I put all your stuffed toys on boxes,” his dad said, and Kurt turned on his heels like a character would on a sitcom: with an open mouth and his arms held at his sides. “I figured you wouldn’t want to keep any of them.”

“I want to keep that one, that’s why it’s on my bedside table instead of on the shelves!” Kurt replied as he moved towards the boxes labeled “STUFFED TOYS” and began to rip the duct tape off the closed ones until he found Blaine.

“Sorry,” his father muttered. “Didn’t know you cared so much about it.”

Kurt placed the Blaine doll on his rightful place next to the lamp. “That’s fine,” he mumbled, mainly because he didn’t want to get into an argument with his dad about a stuffed little boy, no matter how important it was to him. He’d probably sound a little ridiculous if he tried to explain that he feared he wouldn’t see Blaine in his dreams if he didn’t have his doll next to him.

And, well, he didn’t want to stop seeing Blaine in his dreams.

“I just don’t think I’m ready to part with it yet,” he concluded.

“Okay,” said his dad. “All right, fine. Now close again the boxes you opened and help me bring them down to the living room.”

*

Kurt looked at the tree only a few feet in front of them. Blaine had said he didn’t have to close one of his eyes, like he always saw the characters do on animated movies, and he was having a really hard time not doing it.

“You just pull the arrow back,” Blaine explained, helping Kurt pull the arrow back on his bow while Kurt tried not to blush at the proximity between them. “Like this. Keep your elbow up—no, not that up. Now aim towards the tree… Okay, you got it! Now you just need to shoot it.”

Kurt let go of the arrow, and he was, quite frankly, a little disappointed when he saw it fall down right in front of him. Thankfully, Blaine wasn’t laughing at him.

“Don’t worry,” he told Kurt with a pat on the back, and Kurt felt his face heat up when Blaine slid his hand down his back instead of simply pulling it away. “That used to happen to me when I first started. Father told me it’s normal. You just need to keep practicing!”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, distracted by the fact that Blaine hadn’t moved away from him. “But you’re still going to help me, right?”

Blaine turned to him with that cute, gorgeous grin of his. “Of course I am! In fact, I won’t stop helping you until you’re a better archer than me.”

“Oh, I’m afraid that’s never going to happen.”

“Well,” Blaine said, looking at the arrow on the ground before them and glancing back at Kurt afterwards. “I guess we’ll be stuck together for a long time, huh?”

There was a twinkle in his eyes that Kurt didn’t want to figure out; not because he thought it meant something bad, but because he feared it meant something good.

Having a crush on a boy he only saw in his dreams was absurd enough—and really, having somehow built Blaine as a personification of his ideal best friend and possible partner was more than ridiculous—, but imagining that same boy having a crush on him?

Oh, but it would certainly be nice, wouldn’t it?

*

“I feel like I should tell you,” Kurt said, probably for the hundredth time, “that I’m not that good when it comes to drawing.”

“Are you joking?” Blaine chuckled, and he used his hands so that he could move forward and keep his legs crossed, as Kurt had asked him to. “You’re incredibly talented!”

Kurt glanced up from the sketchbook in front of him. He smiled with only one side of his mouth perking up, pretending he hadn’t seen Blaine move even though he had. “You’re just saying that because I agreed to draw you.”

“No,” Blaine argued, and Kurt held back his urge of raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m just saying that because I’m your friend. And because you’re incredibly talented.”

Kurt laughed, and when he looked up from the sketchbook again, Blaine was even closer to him. Again, Kurt pretended not to notice.

“Stop talking,” he said. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to have to draw your mouth open instead of smiling.”

“So,” Blaine began, daring to move forward while Kurt was looking at him. “What exactly, if I may ask, would be wrong about drawing me with my mouth open?”

“It’s just not the look I wanted to draw you with,” Kurt answered, concentrating on his sketchbook. “I wanted to draw you smiling.”

“And why would that be?”

Kurt pressed his lips together. He felt his face heat up in a blush, and he simply hoped it wouldn’t spread to his ears. Blaine had told him he looked like an elf when his ears went pink, but he’d done it while smiling, so Kurt had taken it as a compliment. It didn’t mean he liked looking like an elf, or that he liked the fact that Blaine saw him as one.

“Because I like your smile,” Kurt admitted, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Really?”

This time, when he looked up from his sketchbook, Blaine was only a few inches away from him. The space between them actually looked kind of smaller, like Kurt could put both of his hands together between him and Blaine but they would barely fit. The twinkle in Blaine’s eyes that Kurt had seen so many times before but had pretended otherwise was there again.

“You really like my smile that much?” Blaine asked him.

Kurt couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “It’s the kind of smile that should be drawn.”

The smile that had been on Blaine’s face turned into a grin, which, Kurt hated to admit it, was even more precious than the smile he’d wanted to draw him with.

“Great,” Blaine said. “I really like your smile, too.”

And then he closed the short distance between them and kissed Kurt.

*

Kurt sighed in relief when the bell finally rang and his Art teacher dismissed the class. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the class or that he regretted having signed up for it, but sometimes he just wanted to go home and sleep, especially when he had artist’s block. If he was tired, the ideas didn’t quite flow, and a small nap (or sleeping through the night, he’d done both) was always the best solution.

He looked at the painting he’d started. He had wanted to paint the meadow where he woke up in his dreams, with the grass that reached up to his knees (now that he was eighteen) and a thousand flowers, all of them of a different kind. He’d had a good start, but when he was halfway done, he didn’t like how the grass looked and then he tried to fix it and he’d ended up with what seemed like something out of one of his old coloring books. His teacher hadn’t said anything to him about it, but the way she’d looked at him wasn’t exactly what he had wanted, either.

“Hey, Kurt!” Kurt turned to the door, where his friend Mercedes was waiting for him with her backpack slung over her shoulder. While he’d signed up for his Art class, Mercedes had taken a Vocalization class. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me get my stuff.” She stood on the door while he packed his watercolors and his paintbrushes inside his bag. Then he covered the canvas of his monstrosity with a sheet and tied it so that it wouldn’t fall off. When he went up to Mercedes, she raised her eyebrows.

“You’re not gonna show off your next masterpiece to me?” she asked him, and he held back the urge he had of rolling his eyes at her.

“Bad day,” he answered. “If I can help it, nobody but me is going to see this in the next couple of years.”

She made a face at him that he immediately returned. “C’mon,” she said, “it can’t be that bad, right?”

“It’s worse than that bad,” Kurt said, glaring at the covered canvas underneath his arm. “I might need to paint over it and start again.”

“Well, I guess it’s better than throwing it away,” Mercedes added. Kurt nodded to himself, supposing she was right. He didn’t like throwing ruined paintings away, but he’d had to do it a few times before. He didn’t want this to come to that.

Once they were in Kurt’s car, Mercedes turned sideways on her seat—and Kurt told her for the fifth time to buckle up her damn seatbelt—and said, “Any plans for tomorrow? It’s my aunt’s birthday, and if I have to be on her party by myself, I’m gonna end up beating a cousin up or something.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Kurt said with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders as he turned on the engine. “I promised my dad I would help him on his shop. Try not to beat anyone up. Or kill anyone.”

She turned on her seat again so that she’d face the windshield and pouted. “If I call you from jail, will you pay my fine?”

“Highly doubt it,” Kurt told her, and he laughed when she slapped his arm.

*

Kurt parked his car in the driveway, turned off the engine, and then looked at his covered painting in the backseat. He seriously didn’t want to look at it again today, but he felt bad about leaving it here. Besides, he would have to finish it tomorrow in his last Art class of the summer before he went off to college. Exhaling in an angry sigh, he got down from the car, opened the door of the backseat, and pulled out the canvas, deciding to leave it on the garage, where he wouldn’t have to see it and imagine it staring back at him until tomorrow.

His dad was in the garage when he walked in, apparently searching for something in a toolbox, and he only greeted him with a distracted, “Hey, Kurt.” A lot of Kurt’s things were already packed, and the floor of the garage was full of cardboard boxes labeled with different names.

“Hi, Dad,” Kurt said, placing the painting against the back wall, right behind the box labeled “ART SUPPLIES.”

“How was class?”

He threw his head back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His father turned from the toolbox to him and glanced down at the covered canvas. Then he glanced at his son. “Bad day?”

“Bad day,” Kurt repeated, turning away from his coloring-book-calamity. “I’m going to lie down,” he told his dad, “but I’ll get up for our Thursday family dinner.” His dad didn’t say anything as he made his way out of the garage.

Kurt’s room was a comfortable space in comparison to the Art classroom, even as empty as it was with most of Kurt’s stuff already packed away; one of his walls was covered entirely with pictures, from drawings he’d done when he was eight to some of his favorite sketches from the last three years. Of course, the drawings he’d made as a kid were not that amazing, but Kurt liked seeing his progress right in front of him.

He turned to the table next to his bed, where he still kept a lamp and his Blaine doll right next to it. He’d kept clothes for Friday and the weekend in his closet, and besides the clothes, the bedside table, the drawings on the walls and the covers of his bed, his room was emptied out.

Kurt yawned and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Then he remembered he’d intended to put his sketchbook underneath his pillow, so he got up from bed, took the sketchbook out of his backpack, placed it under his pillow, and lay down again.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he saw the meadow.

*

Blaine was already waiting for him when Kurt opened his eyes; he was actually right above him, so Kurt saw his face upside-down. Blaine grinned, and Kurt couldn’t help laughing at how silly it looked from his point of view.

“Hey, love,” Blaine said, and he leaned down to kiss Kurt. Kurt started to sit up, using his hands as leverage, and Blaine began to laugh as their position became awkward. When they pulled away, Kurt turned around to face Blaine, who was sitting down on his knees, smiling at him. “Did you have a good day in the Otherland?”

“Not really,” Kurt answered, but he realized that what had happened in his Art class didn’t seem so bad now that he was with Blaine. “But I’m feeling a lot better now.” Then he remembered the sketchbook he’d put under his pillow, which was now at his side, and took it in his hands. “Oh, hey, I have some new sketches I want to show you!”

Blaine sat down beside him as Kurt began to flip the pages. He’d been drawing Blaine during some of his classes instead of drawing the models his teacher brought in to help them learn the anatomy of the human body—well, he had drawn the model, he’d just turned them into different designs of Blaine.

“What am I lying on in this picture?”

“Nothing, exactly. I mean, I could probably draw some grass around you to make it look like you’re here on the meadow.”

Blaine turned his head to him, and he was smiling in a way that made Kurt want to kiss his entire face. “You should draw yourself next to me,” he told Kurt as he leaned in to kiss his cheek. “So it’d be just like one of your… what are they called, photographs?”

Kurt grabbed Blaine’s chin in his palm and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “That’s exactly what they’re called, and that’s a great idea.”

“What am I doing in this one?”

“You’re climbing a tower, but I was experimenting a little and sketched it from above, like I’m the sun and I’m looking down on you.”

“I already think you’re the sun, Kurt, you don’t need to draw a picture.” Kurt kissed him by grabbing his face with both hands this time.

They continued flipping through the pages of the sketchbook, and when they got to the near end of it, Kurt put his hand between the pages and closed the sketchbook. Blaine narrowed his eyes in confusion, to which Kurt put up a finger to keep him from asking questions.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said. “I know you told me you didn’t need anything for your birthday, but I wanted to do something for you, so…” Kurt opened up the sketchbook and gave it to Blaine so that he could flip through the pages at his own pace and see what Kurt had done for him.

“Oh, heavens…” Kurt watched Blaine’s eyes widen as he saw a picture he’d drawn of his parents from how Blaine had described them to him through the years. Then they got watery at a picture Kurt had done of Blaine’s father teaching him how to shoot with the bow. “Oh, Kurt, these are all beautiful.”

“Do you like them?” Kurt asked, because although he knew Blaine liked his pictures, he hadn’t heard Blaine say he liked these ones.

“Of course I do!” Blaine exclaimed, and he put his hands on Kurt’s nape to bring him forward and repeatedly kiss his lips. “They’re gorgeous, Kurt, my goodness, I love them!” Kurt managed to break the two of them apart with his hands on Blaine’s chest, and he laughed against his mouth. “Can I keep them?”

Kurt’s smile wavered, and he glanced down at the sketchbook in Blaine’s lap. “You can,” he told Blaine. “But I don’t know if they’ll stay here once I go back to the Otherland.”

Blaine’s mouth took the shape of an “o” before he bit his lower lip. “What if I bring some paper from the village and we copy the pictures? Then I’m sure they won’t vanish when you leave.”

“Hm,” Kurt groaned, leaning his head against Blaine’s shoulder. He had no problem copying the pictures now that he had drawn them, but the words “when you leave” coming out of Blaine’s mouth didn’t comfort him at all. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Because of college?”

“Oh, don’t even remind me,” Kurt mumbled.

He was excited about going to college and looking for art exhibits and maybe get into some performing arts programs, of course he was. But he didn’t know what he was going to do with the stuffed doll of Blaine he kept on his bedside table. He feared that if he didn’t take it with him, he wouldn’t dream with Blaine anymore, but he also feared what whoever his roommate in college would say if he did take the doll with him. Kurt’s dad hadn’t told him anything for keeping the stuffed toy with him during high school, but he knew how cruel people could be.

And in his dreams, there was only Blaine, and Blaine loved him.

“I just wish I could stay here forever,” Kurt muttered.

Blaine wrapped his arms around him and pulled him tight against his chest. “I wish you could stay here forever, too.” He sighed deeply, and Kurt did exactly the same thing.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, “come on, let’s go get the paper from the village so that we can copy the sketches.”

*

So he hadn’t finished the painting, big deal. A lot of artists didn’t finish their paintings, and besides, Kurt wanted to sketch, not paint. He could learn how to do landscapes when he was in college; meanwhile, he would sketch with pencil and charcoal. Now that he knew how to do.

Kurt put the art supplies he’d taken to his Art class that day in the box where they belonged, and he decided that he was going to throw away the stupid meadow painting that looked nothing at all like a meadow, because he wouldn’t bear to bring it with himself and imagine the word failure written all over it.

“Going somewhere?” his father asked him when they’d finished dinner (at least, Kurt had, his dad was still chewing his last bite of pasta) as he made his way to the door with the covered canvas under his arm.

“Yeah,” Kurt answered. “I’m going to throw this away so I don’t have to look at it anymore.”

“You’re not taking it with you?”

“No,” he responded. “And please, Dad, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Once he’d put the painting next to the trash can outside, Kurt walked back inside his house, announced to his father that he was going to bed—“It’s your turn to do the dishes, we settled it last week so that I didn’t do them on my last night home!”—and went up to his room.

His Blaine stuffed doll was still on his bedside table. He was going to put it away tomorrow morning on a bag that would be kept in their basement for when he came home for the holidays. Still, Kurt thought it looked weird next to the lamp, which he turned off before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

*

“Kurt, get up! It’s almost noon, you said you wanted to leave before noon! Besides, I’m not letting you outta this house without breakfast!”

No, it can’t be noon, Kurt thought as he heard his father’s voice through his room’s door. I haven’t slept nearly enough, and I haven’t seen…

He sat up so quickly that he got dizzy, feeling like his entire room (or what was left of it) was spinning around him.

It couldn’t be noon. He hadn’t dreamed with Blaine, so that could only mean that he hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

No, no, it couldn’t be noon.

“Kurt!”

But it was, it was almost noon, and he had to get up and have breakfast before he put all of his boxes in his car and drove away to get settled into his dorm.

And yet…

“KURT!”

“I’m awake, I’m awake!” Kurt yelled back. “I’ll be down in a second!”

He glanced sideways at his Blaine doll on the bedside, next to his lamp. He held back the urge to grab it in his hands and shake it while screaming, Why didn’t I see you last night, you were next to me! You’ve been with me since I was eight, I’ve dreamed with you since I was eight, where were you last night?!

Kurt did take the stuffed toy in his hands and held it in front of him, just like he’d done so the first night he’d slept with it in his arms.

“Well,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I guess this is it.” There were so many things he wanted to say, but they all sounded so cheesy, and being cheesy was… well, it had been Blaine’s thing. He smiled when he remembered Blaine saying he was the sun, and he swallowed back the tears he felt prickling behind his eyes. How stupid was he being now, crying over someone who had never been truly real?

“I only wish I’d known,” Kurt told the Blaine doll, as if the Blaine from his dreams could hear him through it. “Then we could’ve spent our last day together doing something else besides copying sketches and staring at the sky.”

It had been a good last day together, nonetheless. It hadn’t felt like a goodbye at all, and Kurt was glad for it. He hated goodbyes, he probably wouldn’t have been able to say it even if he had known. But there was no use sobbing over it now. Now he had to get downstairs, have breakfast with his father, and get ready to leave.

*

Kurt had never seen the gallery so full.

People could barely walk between the bodies tightly packed together into the enormous crowd watching the new exhibit, showing off New York’s newfound talents, portraying from sixteen-year-old prodigies to elderly people who had just gotten their chance after waiting years for it.

It was better than California, at least, where no one had shown any interest in his sketches and charcoal pieces. He had managed to draw a landscape, but they had always wanted more, and he thought he’d wasted enough time on the one.

“Kurt, darling!” Kurt turned at the sound of his boss, April Rhodes, calling his name. She stood next to him and made a show of pretending to kiss both his cheeks, which Kurt hurriedly returned. He hadn’t grown used to that kind of salute yet, but he was getting there. It kept him away from April’s breath, which always reeked at least a little bit of alcohol. She had a glass of champagne in her hand now, so Kurt would rather she talk to him before she was even drunker. “How are you liking the exhibit so far, dear?”

“It’s amazing,” Kurt said with all honesty. “I never thought there would be so many people.”

“Are any of your old friends here? Any relatives? The more, the merrier!”

“Not yet,” Kurt answered, and he felt a little disappointed. Mercedes had promised she would talk to one of her cousins and get a ride with them, and his father had assured him he would be there. So where were they? “But I’m still hoping they get here soon.”

“I assure you they will, love,” April said. Kurt tried not to think about her use of the word love as a term of endearment. The last time he’d heard it being used that way was the last night he…

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Anyway,” April continued, “have you seen that a lot of people are looking at your masterpiece?”

Kurt waved a hand nonchalantly, but he couldn’t help glancing at the crowd surrounding his so called “masterpiece”: it was a charcoal sketch of the side of a person’s silhouette pulling back an arrow on a bow. The background was painted a mixture of bright and dark colors, like a line of bright green mixed with three dark blue lines, and those lines were mixed with other colors that wouldn’t look good in any other place. Kurt had learned that a random splash of colors didn’t seem that random to other people.

Or maybe it did and he still hadn’t understood that other people were just pretending to get it.

And of course, if the piece had been inspired by an archer Kurt had fallen in love with, it was for him to know and for everyone else to find out.

“Would you look at that, Kurt? And you thought no one was gonna like your silly landscape!”

Kurt glanced back at April when she playfully slapped his arm. He didn’t know what she was talking about until he looked at the corner where he’d asked his landscape to be put: he had finally managed, after years, to paint the meadow with grass and glowers he had dreamed with most of his life, but since he still didn’t think it did justice to the actual—well, fantastic—thing, he had asked April to put it where people wouldn’t pay it any attention.

But someone was.

It was a young man with black hair gelled down to his skull, and Kurt winced when he saw it. He walked towards the man, who had his arms behind his back, like he was examining the painting and the details on the flowers, which really weren’t many. Why was he looking at such a small thing when there were so many other pieces to look at?

As he came to a halt next to the young man, Kurt noticed that he was wearing yellow pants that didn’t cover his ankles and black shoes, along with a navy blue jacket.

“Hello,” Kurt said, and the man immediately turned to look at him. Not only did he have black gelled hair, he also had brown eyes that looked almost caramel-colored underneath the lights of the gallery.

And his face looked an awful lot like…

And he was wearing a white shirt with a yellow bowtie underneath his navy blue jacket.

Get over yourself, Kurt thought. There’s no possible way and you know it.

“Hi,” the man said with a smile that Kurt found incredibly familiar, which only made him want to punch himself in the gut. “I thought I was the only one who thought this landscape shouldn’t be here.”

“You…” Kurt bit the inside of his cheek. “You like the painting?”

“I think it’s one of the best landscapes they’ve got in here,” the young man said as he stared at the painted meadow. “I love how real the grass looks, like the canvas is a window and you can just open it and reach out to touch the flowers.”

“Hopefully you’re not allergic to any kind of flowers, those are not only one kind,” Kurt said, and even though he’d attempted to make a joke, he was surprised to hear the man laugh.

“Do you recognize all the flowers?” he asked Kurt.

“I should,” Kurt answered, “I’m the one who painted them.”

The man turned his entire body towards him so that they were face to face, and Kurt could almost imagine him wearing the clothes of an archer from a fairytale with a bow slung across his chest and a quiver on arrows on his back.

Stop it, Kurt scolded himself.

“You painted this?” he asked, pointing with one finger at the landscape.

“I did,” Kurt grudgingly admitted. “I’m surprised you like it, I kind of don’t.”

“You don’t?” The man glanced at the meadow again. “Why not? You did a gorgeous job with it.”

“I like working with charcoal more. I was never good with landscapes.”

“So why did you do this one?”

“Well,” Kurt explained, “it started out as a project in my summer Art class, and I really didn’t want to leave it incomplete, so.” Looking at it, the meadow had turned out quite pretty, but it still couldn’t compare to the beauty that had made up Kurt’s dreams.

Of course, that was also because a certain someone wasn’t there, but Kurt pushed down that thought before it fully arose to the front of his mind.

“I see,” said the young man, turning back to look at Kurt. His smile was warm and kind, like being in an art gallery was the best place he could be spending time at during a Saturday afternoon. “I know this is going to sound random, but…” He narrowed his eyes at Kurt, like he was trying to figure out where he’d lived before moving to New York. “Have we met before?”

Kurt opened his mouth to say that he hadn’t known him, exactly, he’d met a boy who was an archer in a meadow in his dreams that looked identical to him, but then he closed his mouth and smiled. “No, I don’t think so. I’m sure I’d remember you.”

The young man scoffed, but he blushed and the corners of his lips perked up in a grin.

“That was going to be my pick-up line,” he said, “but I guess I’ll just have to come up with another one.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your pick-up line,” Kurt said. Actually, he hadn’t meant to flirt with a complete stranger—because the man was a complete stranger—, it had just… come out like that.

“Are you completely sure we haven’t met before?” the young gel-helmeted man insisted. “Because you look really familiar…”

“No, I’m pretty sure we haven’t,” said Kurt, although, with the man’s insistence, he wasn’t that positive anymore. Maybe he’d seen him on the streets as a child, and the stuffed doll his mother had sewn for him had looked just like him, and that was the reason Kurt had dreamed with a black-haired, brown-eyed archer for so many years. Still, that didn’t explain why the dreams had ended, or how this man had ended up here if Kurt had seen him back home, far away from New York.

Same way you did, Kurt thought. Car, airplane… the world is big, Kurt, but it’s not impossible to travel through it.

“All right,” said the man, finally seeming to admit defeat. “So, prodigious artist,” he said, and Kurt’s face heated up with the compliment. “May I ask for your name?”

“It’s right there on the label,” Kurt said while he pointed to the label next to the landscape that included his own name and the title of the painting. “But if you’d prefer I tell you myself, I guess that’s okay, too.” He held out his hand. “My name is Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

The sole admirer of his landscape’s eyes widened. Before Kurt could ask, he apparently recovered himself, and he took Kurt’s hand to shake it with his own.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kurt. I’m Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine.

With the black locks of hair instead of thread and the brown eyes that weren’t buttons.

With the same clothes as the doll but not the same ones as the archer.

Blaine Anderson.

Of course you are, Kurt thought.

“So,” Blaine said, and Kurt held himself back from grabbing his arms and asking him if he didn’t happen to be a boy who lived in a house in a meadow, who had tried to teach him how to shoot an arrow, who had kissed him when Kurt was trying to draw him, who had kept the copies of the sketches Kurt had done as a surprise for his birthday. “Maybe you’d like to have coffee sometime? I’d like to see some of your charcoal pieces, if you’d be willing to show them to me.”

Kurt wanted to point out that there were only three pieces in the entire gallery made with charcoal, shouldn’t Blaine assume they were his by what Kurt had told him?

Or maybe he had assumed it, and he was simply hoping Kurt wouldn’t realize it. The twinkle in his eyes—which Kurt perfectly recognized, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it—certainly reflected the mischievousness of a child who knew he would get away with whatever he wanted to do.

“Yeah,” Kurt answered. “I’d love to go get coffee sometime. And showing you my charcoal sketches depends.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes at him again, but he was smiling now. “On what?”

Kurt looked right at Blaine, and he hoped that he also had a twinkle in his eyes. “On how the first date goes.”

One day, his mother said to him : “Come, Little Red, here is a piece of cheesecake and a tumble of coffee ; take them to your grandfather. He has grown ill and weak, and they will do him good. Set out before the storm hits us, and when you are going, walk fast and stay on the road between the trees, for wolves and jackals are roaming those woods, waiting for little boys to stray from their path.”

---

“Wolves and jackals, what the Hell?”

“Kurt, language ! And will you let me tell the story already? Not my fault my mother used those exact words!”

“Ridiculous - meerkats are far more dangerous than wolves, everybody knows that don’t we baby girl yes we do meerkats and hyenas are terri--"

“Kurt …”

“Go ahead, go ahead sweetheart.”

---

Blaine nodded, reaching for the basket, when his mother stopped him. “And don’t go running off or jumping on the roots and low branches, or you may fall and ruin your grandfather’s gifts.”

The grandfather lived in a cottage in the woods, half a league from the village, and Little Red started his journey immediately, for grey clouds started gathering above his head, and thunder rumbled in the air.

---

“Do you mind if I take over here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I may have an insight on the events that lead to our encounter, my sweet.”

“Please do then - Cecilia, go to your daddy.”

---

Back in those days, the woods were filled with enchanted creatures, powerful and dangerous.

Wolves and Ze’evs - human people linked to the wolves of the pack who shared their need for a community and their love for the Hunt -, Magical men who could turn into any animal they wanted, snakes reporting to witches and Meerkat-men that aimed to destroy the very foundation of the forest with their tunnels and their deceptions.

The wolves and the meerkats hated each other with a fiery passion that threatened to destroy the Woods, but they had reached a consensus : as long as the Meerkats left the innocent bystanders alone - humans living on the edge of the forest and the animals inhabiting it -, the Wolves would leave them alone.

Lately, though, the Wolves worried.

Some of the most peaceful and charming inhabitants of the woods, the little Warblers, with their beautiful blue and red coat, had been missing, and every woodland creature knows that there is nothing a Meerkat loves more than a little Warbler.

Well, warblers and bashful young men.

The pack stood its ground, and the Alpha send its Human to investigate.

Kurt - that’s his name - didn’t waste any time before reaching the territory kept by the Meerkats.

However, their nest was empty, save a couple of younglings still attached to their mothers. As gently as possible, Kurt asked for the whereabouts of the clan, to find the Meerkats’ leader and give him a chance to renegotiate before the pack attack.

The two babies chirped about the Meerkat’s leader exiling himself from the mob to find an ally in a wandering hyena, and how the two of them had taken all the Warblers to turn them into hybrids, definitely stronger but without their abilities for caring and singing.

And that, Kurt couldn’t accept.

As the storm gathered in the clouds, charging the atmosphere with electricity, Kurt moved faster, his dark coat flying behind him as he accelerated, when he suddenly came to an halt as he smelled them - and Him.

---

“You never told me that.”

“What?”

“That I could have run into some hybrid Warbler, meerkat, monsters!”

“I would have protected you anyway.”

“Yes, but --”

“Daddy, ftop kiffing Papa - the ftory, the ftory!”

“Sorry, little cub. Where were we?”

“You fmelled Papa.”

“Oh right.”

---

The situation looked dire, from where Kurt was standing.

A young man, one that Kurt had seen many times roaming the forest to pick up flowers and treat injured animals but always hidden under his red cloak, was walking briskly on the path, but he couldn’t see the two predators following him, ready to pounce.

The Meerkat was leading the silent charge, his eyes already devouring the Human as if the hunt was merely a game.

All through the woods, the appetite of that particular Meerkat was common knowledge : an appetite for power, for territory but also a cruder one, issued from his baser instincts, to own and possess and bed young Humans and nubile males from all species in the more primal sense. Countless were the notches on his belt, one for each creature he had seduced and conquered, creating a pattern on the leather around his slim waist.

Kurt, as a Ze’ev, shared his wolf’s mating tendencies. One wolf, one mate, one couple for all eternity.

That didn’t mean that he judged other species’ habits, but this Meerkat had the undeniable talent to make Kurt’s temper rise.

They had met a couple of times in the past, and it had never ended peacefully.

As for him, on a personal level, Kurt was still looking for his mate, and the scent drifting from the Human boy walking down the path made his heart beat faster and gave birth to a particular heat in his lower abdomen he had never experienced so strongly.

(Oh, he had been attracted to different members of the pack, but some hindsight - and a talk with his Alpha and his father - had showed him that it was just his need to find a mate that had inspired those misguided feelings, and that he had to keep in mind )

If the young man was, indeed, his mate, or simply related to him, then Kurt couldn’t let him be hurt by the Meerkat.

That, and the satisfaction to know that he would take the dreaded beast’s prey from under his nose, pushed him to stepped out of the shadows and intervened before it all turned sour.

“Good day, Little red riding hood,” he said, looking over the young man’s shoulder to meet the Meerkat’s eyes.

The Human opened wide eyes looking at him, mouth dropping open lightly before he manages to school his features.“Thank you kindly, Sir Wolf,” he replied, and Kurt nodded, his eyes still trained on the Meerkat who was frowning and snarling.

Don’t bother, his eyes said to the mongoose. He’s mine

The tall Meerkat snarled again, teeth showing and eyes turning into slits. How dare you.

Kurt smiled widely, teeth - and particularly canines - showing. Because I say so - scram, before returning his attention to the human fidgeting on the road.

His golden eyes kept on drifting from Kurt to the skies, and a quick glance told Kurt why the human seemed so worried.

The grey clouds that had been gathering up til now seemed ready to blow up in a thunderous storm, and Kurt knew the Forest. Even he and his pack wouldn’t be safe in the open in this weather.

He had to find a shelter for the two of them, for protection against the lightning, the rain, and the creatures of the forest who took advantage of the panic induced by the storm to hunt and kidnap and kill.

“Call me Kurt, Little red. And where are you going so late?” he asked, watching over the retreating backs of the Meerkat and his monstrous creations.

"To my grandfather, Sir Wolf," Riding hood replied politely, “and please call me Blaine. I think I have outgrown my nickname,” he added, averting his eyes from Kurt.

---

"I was not averting my eyes, love, I was avoiding them entirely."

"... Was I that scary?"

"You looked hungry and possessive, Kurt, and it was unsettling."

"Was?"

"Still is."

"..."

"NO KIFFES DURING VE FTORY!"

---

“And what have you got in your basket, Blaine?” the Wolf - Kurt - asked, tilting his head to the side.

His tone was gentle, but Blaine could tell that his attention was elsewhere.

“Cake and coffee - yesterday was baking and roasting day,” Blaine replied.It was like the Wolfman, the “Ze’ev”, as his grandfather called them, pulled his answers out of him without Blaine’s agreement. “So my poor, sick grandfather is to have something good, to make him stronger.”

Somehow, Blaine knew that if he talked about his family, made himself a person instead of a faceless entity, the Wolf would let him go unharmed.

“And, pray tell,” Kurt asked, taking a couple of steps closer to Blaine “where does poor grandpa live?”

Even in the shadows of the storm gathering above their heads, the Wolfman’s eyes were glowing and shimmering, hypnotizing Blaine and keeping his feet stuck to the ground.

“A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; his house stands under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you surely must know it,” Blaine added with a soft smile as he pictured the house that had been the theater of his fondest childhood memories.

“Oh - Dalton manor,” Kurt replied with a nod. Blaine knew that he would recognized the place : his grandpa Wes had always taken care of all the creatures in the forest around him - until his health had declined. “I didn’t know that Ol’ Wes was not well.”

“Unfortunately,” Blaine replied, “he is so, and I hope this meagre offering will give him the will to fight off the illness that has taken over his body.”

---

“By the way, is the Meerkat and his monsters the reason you changed my path?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Oh, so many things make sense now …”

---

Over Blaine’s shoulder, in the middle of the bushes, Kurt spotted the Meerkat turning on his heels, the whole pack of monsters running - silent as shadows - in the directions of the nut trees. Damn. If Blaine kept walking down that road, the only path his human legs could walk on really to the Manor, he was bound to have an encounter with the damn beast, and that, Kurt couldn’t just allow.

Blaine started walking again, and Kurt rushed to stay by his side.

For a moment, silent fell on them, disturbed only by the leaves shaking above them, by the sound of the heavy droplets falling on the foliage that was sheltering them from the worse of it and the rumble of the thunder nearby, before Kurt cleared his throat.

“You walk gravely, Little Red,” he commented and Blaine turned to look at him. “Why don’t you take the time to gather some flowers for your grandfather?”

Blaine looked around, and on a path going left, there were indeed patches of beautiful flowers that would please Grandpa Wes without a doubt.

But it would take him off his path, and didn’t his mother warn him against such a behavior?

Then again, his mother thought that Ze’ev and wolves were dangerous creatures, and if anything, Kurt had been most agreeable ever since they had met.

There was something peculiar about the tall man, something … magnetic, pulling Blaine closer and away from his usual behavior. With the Wolfman by his side, Blaine didn’t want to follow the rules and be the perfect boy he usually was.

He wanted to stay by Kurt’s sides, and to Hell with the price to pay for it to come true.

Somewhere in the depth of the man’s blue eyes lied his happy ever after, Blaine just could feel it.

So he ran into the woods to look for flowers. And whenever he had picked one, Blaine fancied that he saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper in the woods, closer to the Wolves’ den.

His enthusiasm didn’t leave Kurt indifferent, far from it.

Even though his interest had initially sparked from a visceral need to protect the young man’s virtue from the Meerkats and his abominations - and abominable intentions - Kurt found him drawn to the Human as they walked in a companionable silence, broke only by Blaine’s joyful sounds as he found different flowers and by the rainstorm raging above their heads. Apart from a couple of drops, they had managed to stay dry and protected from it thanks to the dense canopy of leaves.

There was something to be said about the Humans’ ability to marvel about Nature and its wonders. Living in the woods, Kurt had grown accustomed to its beauty, but now that he was following Blaine in his random path from one bush to another, he tried to look at the forest through the young man’s eyes.

Through the eyes of someone living on the border of it but never really taking the time to watch.

He had lived in the forest his whole life, but now that Kurt was really looking at their surroundings, he could truly see the beauty of it.

Or maybe it was simply Blaine’s beauty that shone on what he looked at and made it more beautiful.

Maybe it worked that way. Maybe it could work that way.

The smell of his pack, of home, soon reached Kurt’s nose and he let out a breathe of relief.

However, the sigh was loud enough to distract Blaine from the many flowers he had encountered and gathering them in a bouquet, the young man walked back towards Kurt.

“What is it, sir Wolf - Kurt?”, he asked, correcting himself at Kurt’s look.

“We should wait for the end of this downpour in my house,” Kurt replied, lifting the latch to his small cottage, for the nights when Kurt didn’t feel like sleeping in the woods, for the nights where Kurt needed the isolation to get back to himself.

Blaine looked at the opened door and back at Kurt before burying his nose in the flowers, as if thinking it through. His velvety hood fell over his eyes, and Kurt looked silently at the shadows it casted over the young man’s delicate and yet strong features.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, Blaine raised his eyes and caught Kurt looking at him. He refrained from commenting, and simply gave the Ze’ev a nod as he took a step forward.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality,” he said as he passed Kurt by.

Kurt gulped, Blaine’s dizzying scent wrapped around him and almost taking over his own scent - in his own home ! - before managing a stuttered “You’re welcome.”

---

“Kurt.”

“Hm?”

“Celia is asleep.”

“Good thing too, since if I recall, this part of the story is definitely not for her ears.”

“Care for a revival?”

“... Lead the way, little Red.”

---

A bottle of mead and the tumble of coffee later, the two men started digging into the cheesecake - no point in letting it go to waste, now was it? - but the more they talked, the more they laughed together, the deeper a different kind of hunger started to run in Kurt’s blood.

More importantly - as far as he was concerned - that sentiment seemed to be reflected in Blaine’s gaze trained on his every move.

And particularly on his lips wrapped around the fork.

“Do I have cake on my face?” Kurt asked, brushing his fingers over his cheek and his lips, and Blaine’s eyes only widened.

“No, no, you - you don’t,” Blaine stuttered, red spots blossoming on his cheeks as he played with the crumbs in front of him.

“Is there something bothering you?” Kurt insisted, even though he could tell that Blaine’s increasing heartbeat was due to something very specific, something that he was experiencing too, for the first time in that magnitude.

God, he wanted to lick that pulsing vein on Blaine’s neck and nibble on it and get a feeling of the velvety cloak for himself.

Oh, to lay Blaine down on that cloak and map his soft, sensitive spots …

“Not bothering me, no,” Blaine replied, crossing his fingers in front of him and giving Kurt a piercing look. “It’s just … It just occured to me what long fingers you have.”

Kurt let out a chuckle. “All the better to comfort you, Blaine.”

Blaine swallowed audibly, and scooted his chair closer to Kurt. “And what big eyes you have.”

“All the better to watch you, my dear.”

“And what supple lips you have.”

Blaine’s legs brushed against Kurt’s, and they both noticed how close they were. “All the better to kiss you,” Kurt whispered, tilting his head to offer his mouth to Blaine. Before he could feel that he might have overstepped or feel ridiculous, Blaine’s lips were against his and it was everything he had hoped for and more.

It was the first time that Blaine had let his guts dictate his actions, but the feeling of kissing Kurt -- it felt wild and the most reasonable thing to ever happen.

Like his life was finding an axis to revolve around.

And when Kurt reached to cup his cheek, moving his head just a little bit to the side and deepening the kiss, Blaine felt like he was drowning in a pool of pleasure that he never wanted to leave.

With a moan, he leaned away from the kiss to take a deep breath, trying to calm the way his heart stomped against his ribcage. Kurt licked his lips and rested his forehead against Blaine’s.

The two men stayed that way for a little moment, breathing the other in; Kurt kept his hand on Blaine’s jaw, but his free hand was covering Blaine’s, his thumb rubbing over his knuckles.

“What a great kisser you are,” Blaine whispered with a laugh in his voice, and Kurt rubbed his nose against Blaine’s with a low, purr-like sound.

“All the better to seduce you,” he replied and Blaine let out a shocked laugh.

“I think I’m already seduced,” he admitted and Kurt raised one eyebrow at him.

“Are you so easily seduced?” he asked teasingly and Blaine’s eyes darkened.

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, voice on the verge of turning colder than the dead of winter. “I’ve never been in this position before.”

Kurt’s eyes widened at that, and he tightened his hold on Blaine’s hand. “I didn’t mean to anger or hurt you, Blaine,” he apologized softly, “I just don’t - this is not - I’m not - it’s a first for me too,” he finally said with a sigh.

Blaine’s eyes softened and his lips stretched into a shy smile. “I wouldn’t mind sharing all my firsts with you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as the enormity of what he was suggesting, the magnitude of what he wanted to have with Kurt, washed over him.

But the beaming smile that spread on Kurt’s face was just what he needed to surge from his chair to capture the Ze’ev’s mouth in another kiss.

Kurt almost toppled off of his chair, but he didn’t hesitate before cupping the back of Blaine’s head and standing on his own feet to kiss Blaine at a proper angle. Now that they were standing up, he could put a hand on the curve of Blaine’s back, pull him closer as he lost himself in the kiss. Blaine’s hands, large and soft and so warm on his waist, were moving back and forth, caressing him through the fabric of his shirt and with a deep intake of breath, Kurt thought that he wanted those hands on his skin, drawing abstract patterns and following his tattoos.

“Wait, wait,” Kurt said - or more accurately, mumbled against Blaine’s lips, “I need - we need less layers.”

“Less layers sounds amazing,” Blaine said in a breath, and he immediately started pulling and tugging at Kurt’s fur vest.

Showing just as much enthusiasm, Kurt slowly untied Blaine’s cloak, but not enough for it to fall to the ground. Blaine looked at the bow and back at Kurt with a question in his eyes.

“I’m quite fond of the cloak,” Kurt said before biting his lower lip. “Is that okay?”

“That’s cute,” Blaine replied with a smirk. “Like, dirty cute. I like cute.”

Kurt happily hummed before resuming his task of taking Blaine’s clothes off.

Soon, but not soon enough, Blaine was standing in front of him, the velvety red hood the only article of clothing on him. He looked stunning, and Kurt smiled at the discovery of some beauty marks tracing a path for him to follow.

First with his eyes, and he savoured every moment Blaine gave him, letting him pierce him with his gaze, following the dots marking the skin until Kurt couldn’t look away from the trail of dark hair leading to Blaine’s cock.

“My, what a big cock you have,” Kurt whispered, slowly reaching to wrap his fingers around the flushed member.

“All the better to f- no, I can’t say that,” Blaine started, only to look away with an embarrassed giggle.

Somehow, Blaine’s embarrassment and his following laughter seemed to defuse any remaining doubt in Kurt’s mind, and letting go of Blaine’s erection - with some regrets - he gestured towards his bed, lifting one hand in invitation.

Blaine didn’t hesitate before taking the proffered hand, using the small momentum to slide to Kurt’s side, his free hand reaching for his chest.

“You’re wearing far too many layers, sir Wolf,” he whispers seductively, leaning forwards to lick and bite Kurt’s earlobe.

Kurt tilted his head to grant access to his ear and neck to the eager human, and even as he let out a low growl of appreciation, he walked backwards. Blaine followed his lead, not letting go of Kurt’s skin as he kissed and bit his way around the pale skin, marking it with his lips and teeth. In the short lapse of time, he managed to get Kurt out of his fur vest and to open the shirt, but the pants were too tall an order for him to deal with - far too many knots.

When the back of Kurt’s knees hit the bed, he let himself fall down, pulling Blaine on top of him.

Blaine needed a moment to catch his breath as his was knocked out of him, and he put his hands on Kurt’s chest to lift himself up.

His eyes followed his hands, and while Kurt threw his shirt away before wrapping his arms around Blaine’s waist, Blaine eyes traced the dark lines marking Kurt’s chest.

A wolf was rolled in a tight ball, all soft curvy lines, over Kurt’s heart, and each of his intake of breath made the beast look like it’s breathing, deep in slumber.

On the other side of Kurt’s chest, a bird seemed to get ready to fly, wings spread. Just like the wolf, every line ended in a spiral, making the drawing look alive and vibrant.

Bending his neck, Blaine leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of the bird’s head and then sharing a look with Kurt who remained silent before pressing a kiss to the center of the wolf shape.

Under his lips, Kurt shivered and he tightened his hold on Blaine’s waist. “Fuck,” he breathed out as Blaine started alternating between kisses and licks, “you’re going to be the death of me, little red.”

Blaine chuckled against his skin and rolled his hips on top of Kurt, for the first time bringing their hardened cocks in contact.

Both men gasped at the pressure relieving some of the need burning in their veins.

Blaine and Kurt moved together to exchange another kiss, Blaine sliding his arms around Kurt’s back while Kurt pulled him closer by wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck.

They seemed to get lost in the kiss until Kurt pulled away, making Blaine whine in complaint.

“Shh,” Kurt soothed, brushing his thumb in the back of Blaine’s head, “don’t fret, sweetheart, I just -”

“Yes?” Blaine prompted, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on his waist.

“I really, deeply want to devour you.”

Blaine froze for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “In an entirely figurative manner?” he asked, and even if his tone was teasing, Kurt could hear the honesty of the question.

“In an entirely sexual manner,” Kurt clarified, cupping Blaine’s face in his hands to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Oh,” was all Blaine could say once Kurt let his lips go.

In one swift move, Kurt had Blaine on his back under him on the bed, and he took his pants off before taking the time to watch the marvelous display available for him and him only.

Blaine was lying down, the red coat splayed underneath him like the inside of a jewelry box enhancing the young man’s beauty and assets.

His lightly tanned skin, his compact, muscled body and his erected cock, all put on display for Kurt’s pleasure.

Blaine shifted under the Ze’ev’s gaze, dragging it from his cock to his ass and Kurt licked his lips.

Yes, he was going to eat the young man, eat him whole and own him in all the ways he could imagine - and if there was one thing Kurt had in spades, it was imagination.

Kurt went to kneel between Blaine’s legs, gently forcing them to spread wide enough to give him room. “Are you mine, little Red?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, bordering on a purr as he brushed his thumbs over the soft skin of the inside of Blaine’s knees.

“Yes,” Blaine answered without taking a moment to pause and think about it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What a pure heart you have,” Kurt whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to Blaine’s navel.

“All --,” Blaine started, gulping audibly as Kurt kissed the soft skin at the junction of his thigh and groin, “all the better to love you.”

Kurt surged forward to kiss Blaine’s lips one more time before standing on his knees between Blaine’s legs.

“I have an appetite to appease,” he teased, his eyes drifting to Blaine’s crotch, to his curved cock to his heavy balls and to his asshole clenching around thin air.

Well, Kurt was about to solve that particular situation.

Blaine, perhaps unconsciously, widened the opening of his legs, giving Kurt more room to kneel and lean forward.

But no matter how much room Kurt had, this was not the position he wanted Blaine in.

The moment he had started imagining eating Blaine, he had pictured it as decadent, as animalistic as possible.

He wanted to tighten his fingers on the supple flesh of Blaine’s ass while he buried his face between the cheeks, he wanted to lick Blaine’s asshole and push his tongue inside of it to revel in Blaine’s most intimate taste.

“Turn around,” he growled, and Blaine started moving before the instruction - Kurt didn’t want to use the word ‘command’ - was fully out. “Perfect,” Kurt whispered as Blaine got on his elbows and knees, his truly magnificent ass offered to Kurt without any restraint.

With a low, possessive growl, Kurt stopped wasting time and dived in.

Blaine might have squeaked, but Kurt was not going to ponder his thesaurus while he was finally where he wanted to be.

Where he wanted to stay for the rest of his life, to be honest.

Riiight there, behind Blaine, with his scent wrapped around him like the warmest blanket ever, sweeter than all the sweetest berries in the end of Summer and more addictive than all the wolfsbane in the forest put together.

Speaking of which, Kurt’s hunger echoed in his whole body and demanded to be sated sooner rather than later.

So he went for it, kissing Blaine’s ass like he had kissed his mouth, following the wrinkles around his hole with his lips and the tip of his tongue.

Delicious, perfect, unequalled, sensational … all applied to the taste and smell filling his senses all of a sudden.

Using his hands to keep Blaine opened to his ministrations, Kurt sucked harder, and was rewarded with a whimper coming from Blaine’s mouth, by a sharper curve of his back and by Blaine’s ass thrust back against his mouth.

Kurt let out a dark chuckle. “You like that, little red?” he asked rhetorically, “Gosh it’s like you were made to be eaten out,” he added in a whisper against the swell of Blaine’s ass.

“By you,” came the soft reply. “Only by you, please Kurt don’t stop, please, just -- Yes!” Blaine said, his voice turning into a shout as Kurt resumed his tongue massage of Blaine’s ass.

Kurt alternated between broad swipes of his tongue against the rim and pokes of the tip of his tongue inside, slowly pushing inside until his lips closed over the rim and he moaned.

More than anything, it was that moan that send a full body shiver through Blaine, like he was going through his very own Earthquake.

It certainly felt like he was being taken apart and built again into a whole new configuration of body parts.

Kurt moved on to fucking his ass with his tongue in earnest, his fingers tightening their hold every now and then, and Blaine couldn’t - nor had the will to - control himself as he pushed his ass back in Kurt’s face.

"So hungry for it," Kurt whispered as he pulled away to take a deep breath, "your hole is swallowing me, it’s like you’re pulling me in …," he added thoughtfully before pushing back, flicking his tongue inside of Blaine’s ass. “You already can’t have enough, can you little red,” he teased, reaching for Blaine’s cock and pulling and twisting.

His fingers closed around the head, gathering the precome dripping from the slit to coat his hand on the next move downwards.

There was no finesse in the way he handled Blaine’s cock, no rhythm whatsoever, but if the increasing volume of Blaine’s moans and curses were any indication, the young human man seemed to enjoy it as much as Kurt enjoyed procuring it.

Kurt could feel himself getting closer to the edge of his own orgasm, as if Blaine’s pleasure was directly linked to his own, like they were already bond-

Was it possible ?

Could that sexual act be enough to forge that link between their bodies and souls?

Kurt let out a shaky breath, letting go of Blaine’s cock to grip his hips as Kurt leaned over, covering Blaine’s back with his own body, and nestling his cock in the spit-lubricated crack.

Breathing heavily, Kurt kissed whatever part of Blaine was available : his shoulder, his neck, all while his hips moved quite a bit erratically, a foretaste of what was next on his list of things to do with Blaine.

Under him, Blaine tensed as he rubbed back against Kurt, and when his ass cheeks clenched around Kurt’s cock, Kurt let go of whatever was holding him back, his sperm pouring out of him in spurts and coating Blaine’s skin.

Even as post-orgasm sleep called for him, Kurt had the presence of mind to reach for Blaine’s cock, but it only took his fingers circling the base of it for Blaine to tense a little bit more, for his back to arch and for a strangled cry to escape his mouth as he spilled his own cum over Kurt’s hand on over his precious velvety cloak.

Kurt rolled over to his side, pulling Blaine against him to combine after-sex cuddling with avoiding the wet spot on the bed.

As they fell asleep, Kurt reached to press another kiss to Blaine’s neck and whispered softly in his ear, “Don’t you worry about your coat, little red, I’ll clean it in the morning.”

---

“The obsession you have for that hoodie is bordering on creepy, love.”

“Not my fault you look so delicious in primal colors.”

“Well it still fits me.”

"Does it now?”

Wanna bet?”

What happened in Little Red Hood and the Wolf’s room later that night … well, that’s another story.

Blaine barely cracks an amused smile and finally looks up at Kurt. “No, you’re not,” he says, then sets his phone down. “How can I make you more comfortable, so you don’t threaten me with divorce?”

Kurt grimaces while he folds his arms over his chest. “That was one time, and only because I really, really needed an entire cheesecake – and you were unable to deliver.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, as sweetly as he possibly can. “It was three thirty in the morning. And I ran out and bought you one as soon as the bakery opened.” He pushes himself off his chair and crawls over to the couch on his knees, gently placing his right hand over Kurt’s belly. “You know I wish more than anything that it was me going through this, and that you weren’t so uncomfortable all the time,” he says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Kurt’s round stomach.

The pained look on Kurt’s face melts away and he runs the back of his fingers across Blaine’s cheek. “You’ve been amazing and I love you, so much,” he says. “And I’ll love you even more if you’ll get my snoogle.”

Blaine grins and kisses the inside of Kurt’s wrist before standing up. “Do you want me to bring it out here? Or do you want me to help you to the bedroom? You’ll have more room if you’re in the bed.”

“I know,” Kurt says, sighing. “But I’m tired of looking at those four walls, and our room barely gets any sunlight. I’d like to say out here as long as I can.” He rubs both hands over his stomach, t-shirt stretched thin over his bump. “Two more months, little one.”

“Need anything else while I’m up?” Blaine asks, eyeing Kurt’s half-full glass of ice water. He tries to stay on top of everything – making sure Kurt’s feet are warm enough, making sure he always has something to drink – anything he can do to keep Kurt comfy and happy.

Kurt sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and glances toward the kitchen. “Do we have any more ice cream?”

Blaine thinks back to opening the freezer the night before and tries to picture the contents inside. “Yes, we definitely have strawberry, mint chocolate chip, and I think there’s a couple scoops left of chocolate brownie.” He knows better than to run out of ice cream. That would be… disaster.

Eyes lighting up, Kurt lightly pats his stomach and smiles at Blaine. “Your child would like the rest of the chocolate brownie and a scoop or two of strawberry,” he says, nodding like he’s satisfied.

“My child or my husband?” Blaine asks, bending down to place a quick peck on Kurt’s lips.

“Watch it,” Kurt warns, squinting slightly as he tries to shift his hips. “This child loves sweets, who am I to deny him? or her? ...or him?”

With a playful eye roll, Blaine kisses Kurt again before leaving the room to grab Kurt’s body pillow. It takes him a moment to arrange both Kurt and the pillow on the couch so Kurt is comfortable, but once Kurt assures him he’s set, Blaine leaves again to get Kurt’s ice cream.

“I changed my mind!”

Blaine pauses, one scoop of chocolate brownie ice cream already in a bowl, his hand poised to dig the rest out. “To what?” he calls out.

“Do we have any cucumber? And crunchy peanut butter? If we do, can you slice up some cucumber and make me a peanut butter sandwich?”

Kurt’s weird and frequent cravings had subsided after his first trimester, but now that he’s been on modified bed rest for the past few weeks, they seem to have come back with a vengeance. Blaine takes a deep, calming breath before putting away the ice cream. He’ll just eat the scoop that he did manage to get into the bowl himself. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says loud enough for Kurt to hear.

“You’re the best!”

Blaine makes Kurt’s plate up as quickly as possible – before Kurt can change his mind again – and brings it out to him. “That was the last of the cucumber. I’m going to have to – “ He stops short as soon as he reenters the living room.

In the five – maybe eight – minutes it took Blaine to make up Kurt’s sandwich and cucumber slices, Kurt managed to situate himself a little farther down on the couch with his pillow and fall sound asleep. It has been difficult for Kurt to sleep lately, so Blaine counts this as a small victory, and doesn’t mind one bit that he has to turn around and package up Kurt’s snack for later.

Blaine takes his bowl of melting ice cream to their spare bedroom – now mostly converted into a nursery – and quickly finishes the couple of spoonfuls while he looks around, trying to decide what to do. He’d assembled the crib with Sam the other day, but the changing table is still in pieces and he hasn’t even attempted to tackle the closet organizer.

They had painted the room in soft green with yellow accents – and even if they knew the sex of their child, they wouldn’t have gone with the stereotypical pink or blue. No son or daughter of mine is going to sleep in a room painted an unoriginal, boring color, Kurt had said, while making the final color decision. They’re waiting till the birth to find out if it’s a boy or girl. Well, it’s more like Kurt is waiting. Blaine had wanted to know the moment they were able to – but Kurt was adamant. So, Blaine patiently went along with it.

He loses track of time trying to decipher the closet organizer instructions. Kurt – of course – had to order (probably) the most complicated one known to man during one of his bouts of insomnia. There are so many drawers and shelves and compartments and the closet is only so big how is Blaine supposed to fit all of this in there?

“You look like you could use a break.”

Blaine startles at the sound of Kurt’s voice and immediately jumps to his feet. “Hey – why didn’t you call for me? What are you doing up – do you need something?”

Kurt rolls his eyes and rubs the side of his belly. “Our little one thought it would be a nice idea to do a tap dance on my bladder, so I was on my way to the bathroom – don’t worry, I was slow and careful. I can walk down the hallway by myself, Blaine,” he huffs.

“I know, I know,” Blaine concedes. He tries not to be overbearing – and he knows Kurt can get up and move around their apartment when he needs to – but ever since they found out Kurt was pregnant, Blaine discovered just how much of a worrier he is. He worries. It’s even worse now that Kurt has to be on bed rest so there aren’t any complications.

“Oh, okay,” Kurt gasps, hand moving to the underside of his stomach. “I wasn’t kidding about the dancing on my bladder. I’ll be right back, and then I’ll sit on our brand new, very comfortable glider and help you figure that out.”

Blaine returns to his spot on the floor, surrounded by so many piles of parts that even starting at step one seems daunting at this point. He keeps one ear on the bathroom, just in case Kurt hollers for him. He hears the toilet flush, then the sink turn on and off, and then the return of Kurt’s footsteps.

“Much better.” Kurt sighs and slowly lowers himself onto the glider. He glances around and lets out a quiet laugh while shaking his head. “It definitely didn’t look this complicated when I bought it.”

Handing over the instructions to Kurt, Blaine leans forward and grabs two of the biggest pieces – he at least knows he needs them first. “Nothing looks complicated when you’re binge shopping at four AM, sweetheart. Now, what next?”

When they work as a team, it goes much more smoothly than when Blaine was trying by himself. They manage to piece most of it together before dinnertime, even with Blaine taking a necessary break to sing a lullaby while softly kissing and rubbing Kurt’s stomach, trying to calm their active child so Kurt can focus.

*

Blaine likes to think he’s become quite the chef over the past few weeks. His usual specialty is breakfast, but he’s been getting pretty good at whipping up healthy dinners for the two of them so they don’t have to resort to take-out. They’ve been eating a lot of pasta, chicken, and vegetable dishes that Blaine has learned to make interesting and palatable.

After they’ve eaten, Blaine clears the table and he can feel Kurt’s eyes on him while he starts on the dishes. “When I’m finished here would you like me to draw you a bath? Or we could curl up in bed and watch a movie?”

Kurt moans in delight. “How about both?”

Blaine laughs as he sets a plate in the drying rack. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“Or,” Kurt says after a moment, fingers tapping against the table, “you could call Sam and see what he’s doing? Maybe you two could have a video game night or something tonight.”

Blaine’s brow furrows in confusion as he turns around, soapy silverware still in his hand. “I thought we just decided I was going to run you a bath and then we were going to watch a movie?”

“I was just thinking that you haven’t spent any quality time with Sam since… well, since I went on bed rest,” Kurt says, shrugging while he picks at the table with his finger.

“He was just here, helping me set up the crib,” Blaine says, bewilderment edging his voice. “Are you… trying to kick me out or something?” He twists around to set the handful of silverware back in the sink, but keeps his eyes on Kurt.

Kurt shakes his head and glances down at his stomach. “No, Blaine… you’ve been amazing. I just don’t want you to get burnt out. I read that – “

“Hey,” Blaine says, quickly drying his hands and goes to kneel by Kurt’s chair, taking Kurt’s hand in his. “Where is this coming from? Am I...” He swallows down the anxiety he feels building and rubs his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles. “I’m trying not to drive you crazy, but I just want to make sure you have everything you need, and that you’re okay.”

Kurt tucks his free hand behind Blaine’s neck and lightly massages right underneath Blaine’s hairline. “I know, but I need to make sure to still take care of you, too. You shouldn’t feel like you have to be cooped up in here with me all the time.”

Blaine lifts Kurt’s hand and starts kissing his palm, down to his wrist, feeling Kurt’s pulse beat against his lips. “This is definitely not a hardship, sweetheart. I love taking care of you, you know that. Now, I believe someone requested a bath?” He looks up and sees Kurt smiling at him.

“Join me?” Kurt asks.

When Blaine stands, he grimaces as both of his knees pop, and leans in for a slow, closed-mouth kiss against Kurt’s lips. “Of course, let me go start the water.”

Kurt can no longer have his steaming hot bubble baths, but Blaine has tried his best to make the plain, tepid water baths just as nice for him. He makes sure Kurt’s favorite loofah is within reach, along with his expensive body wash, and Blaine even lights a few lavender scented candles to help with the calming atmosphere he’s attempting to set.

After the tub has filled, Blaine crosses the hallway to their bedroom with the intention of helping Kurt get undressed, but as soon as he steps into the room, he sees Kurt sitting on the bed, fully naked except for his robe that he hasn’t pulled shut yet. “Kurt,” Blaine breathes, eyes dropping to Kurt’s beautiful stomach, round with their child. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“I’m glad I put that in your contract that you have to say that, even though I’m as big as a house right now,” Kurt says with a smirk. He gathers the edges of his robe in his hands and tries to tug it closed, but his belly is in the way. He makes a displeased grunting noise and shrugs. “Now my robe doesn’t even fit me anymore.”

Blaine hums sympathetically and steps forward to reach out for Kurt’s hands. “You don’t even need it right now. Your bath is ready, let’s go relax.”

Joining Kurt in the bath had been somewhat of a challenge before Kurt was seven months pregnant – their tub isn’t large by any means – but all Blaine cares about is Kurt’s comfort. He helps Kurt into the water and eases him down so he’s sitting just far enough from the back for Blaine to slide in behind him. It’s a tight squeeze, but Blaine fits.

“Mmm,” Kurt hums, relaxing against Blaine’s chest. “Much better with you in here.”

Blaine sweeps his wet hands over Kurt’s stomach, rivulets of water trailing after his fingertips. “I can’t wait to meet our child, Kurt.”

Kurt nods and covers Blaine’s hands with his own. “Two more months… and not a moment sooner, you hear me, little one?”

“He or she will listen, if Daddy has anything to say about it,” Blaine says, reaching back for Kurt’s body wash and the loofa. He thoroughly soaps it up and starts gliding it across Kurt’s chest. “Would you like to do this or do you want me to continue?”

Kurt stretches his arms out on either side of the tub and rests his head back on Blaine’s shoulder. “You know how much I love being pampered.”

Laughing, Blaine continues to soap up the parts of Kurt’s body that he can reach, that aren’t submerged underwater. He helps Kurt lean forward for a moment so he can get to Kurt’s back, slowly lathering up every inch of exposed skin. “I’m not going to be able to get to your legs this way.”

“You’re ignoring what you can reach as it is,” Kurt says, shifting his ass back ever so slightly against Blaine’s cock.

Blaine bites back a groan and tries to focus on anything other than the pressure of Kurt’s body against his groin. They haven’t had sex in weeks – since Kurt went on bed rest – and Blaine’s dick has had a difficult time comprehending the sudden lack of attention. “Kurt – “

“I know, I know,” Kurt says, sighing impatiently as he flicks his fingers in the water, sending droplets splashing against the wall. “I just hardly think mutual hand jobs will cause me to go into labor.”

This isn’t the first time Kurt has tried to initiate some sort of sex, but Blaine has always said no. Their libidos can wait until after the baby is born – he’s not doing anything to jeopardize Kurt’s pregnancy. “You know the whole point is to not raise your heart rate, sweetheart.”

“Tell that to my sex drive,” Kurt mumbles. “I’m sorry, you’re amazing I’m just – “ He shrugs and slides his butt a little further down the tub, away from Blaine’s cock.

“Horny,” Blaine supplies, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s damp shoulder and dropping the loofah to let it float in the water. “I know, I am too. Should we drain the tub and start the shower so I can wash your hair?”

Kurt groans and relaxes completely against Blaine’s chest. “That requires so much effort.”

Blaine snorts out a laugh and caresses Kurt’s belly with both hands. Sometimes he gets so overwhelmed with the feeling that their child is growing inside Kurt, that they did that… that they’re going to be parents. He cannot wait. “You mean… effort for me while you sit on your shower chair and let me give you a scalp massage?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Kurt says, flipping the drain open with his toes. “Get up, mister.”

*                        

Once Blaine gets Kurt settled in bed with his body pillow, Blaine takes a few minutes to hop in the shower and take care of his own hair. He resolutely ignores his cock – if Kurt can’t have orgasms, then neither can he.

He half expects Kurt to be sound asleep when he returns to the bedroom, but Kurt has the laptop open and is scrolling through something that holds his interest more than his half naked husband walking in the room. “Baby names again?” Blaine guesses, shucking his damp towel to the ground and walking over to the dresser to pick out a pair of clean boxers to sleep in.

“Don’t you dare leave that on the floor,” Kurt says automatically without even looking up from the screen. “This is too much pressure. What if our child hates the name we choose? He’ll resent us for the rest of their life. Or she will.”

Blaine dutifully hangs his towel up in the bathroom after pulling his boxers over his hips. “I think every kid hates their name at some point or another. I know I did, but now I like it just fine. As long as we like it… I think we’ll be okay, Kurt.” He crawls onto their bed, careful not to jostle Kurt or the laptop, and tries to sneak a peek at the website Kurt is looking at. “Any luck?”

 “I’m thisclose to going with Devon or Elizabeth,” Kurt huffs, clicking out of the website and shoving the computer toward Blaine. “And I know we decided that would just be too cliché.”

Blaine hums in agreement and brings up the movies they have on their hard drive. Whichever one he chooses, he hopes Kurt falls asleep within the first hour, because even with the nap he took earlier, Kurt still needs to get a decent night’s rest. “I like Hepburn for a girl. Is that still on the table?”

It looks like Kurt tries to nod, but instead it turns into a giant yawn, his eyes squeezing shut and he lets out the most adorable little sigh at the end of it. “Definitely still on the table, but I think I’ll nix the movie for tonight? I feel like I could actually sleep right now.”

Blaine immediately closes the laptop and turns away to put it aside on his nightstand. “Well, let’s get you comfortable, sweetheart.” He gets up on knees and waits for Kurt to decide how he’ll want to sleep with his snoogle for the night. Well, until he’ll have to get up and pee in a few hours, at least. “Right or left tonight, you think?”

Kurt lets out a grunt when he tries to maneuver over onto his left side, so he’d be facing Blaine’s side of the bed, but his pillow is already situated for him being on his right hip. “I… think I’ll just stay like this for now,” he says.

Blaine smirks and helps Kurt shift further down on the bed, then pulls just the top sheet up to Kurt’s waist. “Comfy?”

“For now,” Kurt mumbles, eyes already closed. “You stayin’ up?”

“Maybe for a little while, if my light won’t bother you,” Blaine says, already up and walking around the bed to turn Kurt’s bedside lamp off. “I’d like to get a bit more reading in before I fall asleep.”

Kurt reaches out for Blaine’s fingers and gives them a squeeze. “I’ll be fine, I’m already half asleep. Love you.”

Blaine takes a deep breath, his chest feeling too full with love and appreciation for his husband. “I love you too, sweetheart. Sleep tight,” he trails off in a whisper, leaning down to press a kiss to Kurt’s lips, then one to Kurt’s belly. “Let Papa get some sleep tonight, okay?”

Kurt’s lips quirk, but his eyes remain closed. “Hmm, you try that every night.”

“And I’ll keep trying it until our little one lets us sleep all the way through the night,” Blaine says, giving Kurt one last kiss before he returns to his side of the bed. He responds to Kurt’s mostly mumbled goodnight and crawls under the covers before he grabs his copy of What to Expect When He’s Expecting. He’s almost done with the chapter about the eighth month of pregnancy, and wants to get started on the ninth month. He likes being prepared, likes to know what is going on with Kurt’s body and how their child is developing.

The next thing he knows, he feels Kurt moving beside him and his book is still open, face down on his chest. It’s definitely not the first time he’s dozed off reading – he just gets caught up trying to commit every little thing to memory. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus his vision and looks over toward Kurt. “Bathroom time? Need help?”

Kurt is trying to untangle himself from his body pillow and looks like he’s still mostly out of it, but he shakes his head. “No, m’fine. Go back to sleep, but turn your light off.”

Blaine obeys, but doesn’t let himself fall back asleep until Kurt is back in bed and settled. He misses spooning. Kurt can’t sleep without his body pillow anymore, so Blaine hasn’t been able to be the big or little spoon in quite some time. Just another sacrifice Blaine is more than willing to put up with for the sake of Kurt’s comfort and their child.

*

“Shit – shoot,” Blaine corrects himself. He doesn’t curse very often – outside the bedroom – and he’s trying to break the habit before the baby arrives. But this situation very much calls for cursing. “Dammit.” He tosses his phone down on the table and wearily walks into the living room, where Kurt resting on the couch, looking up at him with a curious expression.

“Did we miss a sale at Brooks Brothers?”

Oh, how Blaine wishes it were something that simple. “No,” Blaine says, gently sitting down next to Kurt. “I, um.” He clears his throat and reaches over to rest his hand on Kurt’s belly. “I’m not going to be able to make it to your OB appointment tomorrow.”

Kurt’s face falters slightly before he schools it back into a more neutral expression. “Something come up?”

Blaine sighs and nods, his stomach feeling uncomfortably sour. He hates disappointing Kurt. “They changed the meeting at work to tomorrow morning – the one I can’t miss – with the new administration. I tried to explain, but I have to be there. I’m so sorry.” His chin drops to his chest, his gaze falling to his hand on Kurt’s stomach. He’s been to every appointment so far, the thought of missing one just makes him feel awful.

“Oh, hon,” Kurt says, adjusting on the couch so he’s closer to Blaine. “This isn’t your fault. I do love having you there, and I know how much you love watching the ultrasounds with me, but I’m going to the doctor every two weeks now. Rachel will take me this time – I’ll be fine, okay?” He reaches up and cups Blaine’s jaw in his hand. “You’ll be there for the next one, and as soon as you’re done with your meeting, you can call on your way home and I’ll tell you every single detail.”

Blaine draws a heart with his finger right over Kurt’s belly button. “Promise?” Even though every recent appointment has been essentially the same, he would never forgive himself if something were to happen and he wasn’t there.

“Of course,” Kurt says. “Besides, Rachel has been bugging me to tag along so she can be there for at least one ultrasound.”

Taking a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves because he knows he’s being silly, Blaine looks up and gives Kurt a smile. “Make sure to remember extra tissues – I bet she’ll cry more than I did.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and shifts over just enough to plant a kiss on Blaine’s cheek. “She’s on her own if she cries – let’s just hope her wheelchair navigational skills are up to par.”

Blaine’s heart drops. “Oh crap! Is she going to be able to get that in and out of the cab without me? It’s heavy. That’s it – I’m just going to have to skip the meeting – “

“Blaine – Blaine – “ Kurt shakes Blaine’s arm and his eyes narrow. “I’m sure our cab driver will be very understanding and help us out, especially if we tip him well. You’re not going to miss a mandatory meeting. Everything will be just fine, okay?” He slides his hand down Blaine’s arm until he’s able to intertwine their fingers, and rubs his thumb over Blaine’s wedding band. “Don’t worry.”

*

Blaine has never felt more useless in a meeting in his life. He’s supposed to be listening to how the new budget plan is going to affect each program – including his own – and other things like scheduling, and new faculty, but the only thing he can focus on is Kurt.

He had almost tried to skip the meeting once again when Rachel called and said she was running late, that her cab was stuck behind some accident, but Kurt almost literally pushed him out the door – he still had plenty of time until his appointment and Blaine was not about to risk getting fired. Even seven months pregnant and on modified bed rest, Kurt is still feisty as ever.

Blaine is trying to be as attentive as possible while a woman – he is ashamed to admit he’s forgotten her name already – flips through a presentation on the screen in the front of the room, but his eyes keep flicking down to the phone he’s hiding in his lap, making sure he hasn’t missed a call or text from Kurt or Rachel. Realistically, he knows it’s just another routine appointment and Kurt and their baby are just fine, but not being able to be there is not sitting well with Blaine at all.

When they are finally released, Blaine can’t help but heave a huge sigh of relief. He’s not really quite sure what all was discussed – he can only hope that no major changes were made to his music department. If there were, he’s sure he would’ve been directly addressed, and he knows his name was never called. That he would’ve noticed, at least.

 “Blaine, is everything all right?”

Blaine startles, looking up from where he was just about to dial Kurt’s number, and sees his colleague, Frank, standing next to him, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. “What – oh, I’m fine, I just – “ Blaine says, gesturing to his phone and hopes he doesn’t seem rude, but he really doesn’t want to get stuck in a conversation right now.

Frank has never taken subtle clues well. “You’re usually very involved in these meetings, and you barely said a word today – that’s very unlike you.”

It takes Blaine approximately one second to decide to forgo his usual manners and completely blow Frank off – deal with the consequences later – but just as he’s about to, his phone buzzes with a text.

From Rachel: Blaine I’m so sorry!!!

Everything in Blaine’s body seems to turn to liquid, and he sinks back down into his chair. He vaguely hears Frank calling his name, but all he can think is Kurtkurtkurtkurt. He numbly dials Kurt’s phone, and when he hears Kurt’s voice he barely chokes out, “Kurt – “

“I’m fine, Blaine – ugh, I swear, I told her not to text you like that!” Kurt huffs, and Blaine can hear Rachel yelling an apology in the background. “Everything was normal, I promise. Baby and I are doing very well, and we’re already back home… and Rachel is leaving. Blaine? Are you okay?”

Blaine nods and takes a deep, relieved breath. “Yes, I – oh, it’s just good to hear your voice, sweetheart. So, what did Rachel mean, if your appointment went well?” He waves Frank away and stands back up, anxious to return to their apartment and make them lunch.

“Um, well,” Kurt says in such a way that Blaine can just tell he’s biting his bottom lip between his teeth. “Rachel, she – well. You should just come home and I’ll explain, okay? Nothing bad, all right? In fact, I think you may be pleasantly surprised.”

Blaine hails a cab when he steps outside – he has no patience for the subway, not when Kurt is waiting for him, and especially not when he sounds so… weird about this news. “Are you sure everything is okay? You’re sorta freaking me out here, sweetheart.”

“There is absolutely no reason for you to freak out. Just… come into the nursery when you get here,” Kurt says.

Blaine stays on the phone with Kurt until the cab approaches their apartment, but he’s still confused and worried. He can’t fathom what could’ve happened that Rachel would be so sorry for that Kurt couldn’t just tell him over the phone.

As soon as he enters the apartment, he drops his keys and bag by the door and toes off his shoes, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to get to the nursery. “I’m home, sweetheart,” he calls out.

“Don’t kill yourself getting here – this baby is still going to need a Daddy,” Kurt says from within the room.

“I’m fine,” Blaine says, body immediately relaxing as soon as he sets eyes on his husband, standing in the middle of the nursery – holding balloons? “Why… what are those for?”

Kurt smiles and steps forward, grabbing Blaine’s hand. “Well, you see. We didn’t have our regular nurse today, and Rachel being… Rachel, got to talking with her, and – “ Kurt glances up to the balloons, a mixture of blue, pink, and yellow. “Long story short, I now know the sex of our baby.”

“Wha – “ Blaine chokes out, gripping Kurt’s hand harder. He’s pretty sure his jaw is on the floor right now, because he completely lost control of all of his facial muscles. “Y – you know?”

“I do,” Kurt says, nodding. “I know I wanted to wait, but… Blaine, the first thing I did was cry and wish you were there. And then I had about five minutes to come up with a creative way to tell you because, well – this is me we’re talking about. I wish I had had more time, but I’m already bursting at the seams just standing here and not telling you. So! I’m going to hand you these balloons, one by one. And the one that stays in my hand… well, that will give you an idea as to what we’re having.”

Blaine looks up at the colors again and already feels his eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Kurt…”

“If you start crying, I’m going to start crying again, and then we’ll both be a mess and I – “ Kurt warns, handing off a yellow balloon first. “These are pretty obvious, but I had to mix it up somehow.”

“Go faster,” Blaine whispers, taking a blue balloon from Kurt, eyes flicking from the ones Kurt is giving him to Kurt’s belly.

When Kurt is down to two – one blue and one pink, he pauses. “Okay, I admit. This little game was sorta silly, but I was pressed for time,” he says, glancing up at both balloons. “I guess it’s a good idea that we’ve already pretty much decided on a name for a girl because…” He hands off the blue balloon to Blaine.

Blaine chokes on a sob while he lets all the balloons go and stares at the pink one Kurt is still holding. “We’re having a girl?”

Kurt has started to cry, too. He nods and pulls Blaine into a hug, the best they can with the baby in the way. “Hepburn Anderson-Hummel. We’re having a girl, Blaine.”

“She better have your hair,” Blaine says, laughing through his tears, his forehead pressed against Kurt’s neck. “Oh, she’s going to be so beautiful, Kurt. I can’t wait – a little girl.” He kisses up Kurt’s neck and finally meets his lips in a salty kiss, sweeping away a few stray tears off Kurt’s cheek with his fingertips. “You should sit down, sweetheart.”

“I – yeah,” Kurt says, letting Blaine help him into the glider. He lets out a relaxed sigh and lifts his legs up onto the ottoman. “Are you upset? That we found out early?”

Blaine sinks down to his knees by Kurt’s side and grabs Kurt’s hand, his other hand immediately resting on Kurt’s belly. “Of course not – I’ve always wanted to know, you know that. You’re the one that wanted to wait… are you disappointed?” He lifts Kurt’s hand and presses kisses all along his knuckles.

Kurt gently rocks back, not enough to disturb Blaine, and shakes his head. “No, I did want to wait, but part of me wanted to ask every time I had an appointment. I am so, so excited to be having a daughter with you, Blaine. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Blaine blinks and a few more tears stream down his cheeks. “You keep talking like that, I’m never going to stop crying,” he says, not bothering to wipe his face. Instead, he leans over and lightly rests his head on Kurt’s stomach. “Hey, baby girl,” he whispers. “This is your Daddy. I know I talk to you all the time, but now we know your name. Even though we’re crying, Papa and I are so happy – you just make sure you’re growing Papa’s hair in there, okay? Otherwise I’m making Papa deal with your curls.”

“Hey!” Kurt says, giving Blaine a light tap on the back of his head. “If she has curly hair, we’ll… well. I guess we’ll both have to learn how to deal with it, because no daughter of mine is going to gel her hair every day.”

Blaine immediately forgets everything hair-related that they were just discussing and looks back up at Kurt. “Our daughter,” he says breathlessly, and it feels like it’s finally sinking in – like his brain is finally catching up with everything that has happened since he walked in the apartment door. “Kurt, we’re having a daughter. She’s going to be ours.”

“I know, honey,” Kurt says, smiling down at Blaine and brushing his fingers against Blaine’s temple. “She’s going to be so beautiful.”

“Of course she is,” Blaine says tenderly, slowly moving his gaze up Kurt’s body. “She’s coming from you – she’s going to be gorgeous.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “She’s coming from us, Blaine. Now – “ He’s interrupted by a loud growl from his stomach, which makes both of them laugh.

Blaine stands, and pulls his phone out of his pocket so he can check the time. He winces, realizing that because of all the fuss, he’s late on starting lunch. “Sorry, gosh – you must be starving.”

“I think we’ll both survive one late lunch,” Kurt says, rubbing his hands over his belly. “As long as you can help me up out of this thing so I can go to the bathroom, I will then wait for you in the living room for what I’m sure will be another amazing gourmet sandwich creation and afterwards, we can call our parents and give them the news.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, carefully easing Kurt out of the glider and back on to his feet. “Can I tell Burt?”

Kurt drops his chin to his chest, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Yes, you can tell my dad. And then you’ll make him cry – again, just like you did when you told him I was pregnant. My dad is not a crier, Blaine. But somehow you manage it.”