Chapter 1
Blaine was dreaming.
Walking down a mirrored hallway towards a human shaped statue, but the air is too thick and his feet gets him nowhere. The mirrors however reflect a running man, moving at the speed that Blaine could not keep up with. The feeling of panic and frustration expanding and...
The cold air that seeped in under the covers made the dream change form and he is standing naked at a hill, half of his body covered behind a tree but the other half exposed to the dark and furious night, searching for him. The cold eye of the moon drawing him in, leaving him no place to hide... But it was not so much of a dream as it was an image in the back of his mind as he became oddly aware of that he was sleeping.
The chilly sensation of arms and feet gently bumping into his legs and back cleared his head and Blaine slowly opened his eyes to the reality of the bedroom. He turned around to lie flat on his back.
“Hmmm, Kurt...” Blaine looked to his left at the contour of his boyfriend.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” Kurt whispered as he pulled the blanket up to his neck.
“That's okay. Did you have a good performance?” Blaine's voice was ragged with sleep but grasped Kurt's hand to show that he really did want to know. “God, you're cold.”
“Yes, it went smoothly.” Kurt moved in closer, the side of Blaine's warm sleepy body contrasting Kurt's cold and stiff one. “We really need to get a radiator in here.” Kurt's voice was already drifting off airily, and Blaine could hear that his eyes were closed.
“Good night then,” Blaine muttered and felt his own sleepy state creeping back.
“Night, Blaine,” Kurt mumbled. Blaine shifted his body slightly. Despite Kurt's cold skin Blaine felt more comfortable than previously and quickly fell asleep, dreaming nothing.

*

Blaine got home from work an hour earlier than usual. He's had to send home his last pupil because she couldn't sing two lines without coughing her lungs up.
Blaine was happy to go home earlier, even though it meant getting soaking wet when running from the subway to the apartment. This would mean he got to see Kurt before he left for the theatre. Blaine had left for work before Kurt woke up this morning and Fridays were one of those days when Kurt left the house before Blaine got home.
Blaine stumbled through the door of their apartment, having left a trail of wet footprints on the staircase. Rain was still dripping from his hair and down his back, the autumn weather taunting him.
“Honey, I'm home,” he shouted as he took off his shoes and went into the bathroom to hang up his coat on the radiator.
There was no answer but he could hear water boiling in the kitchen and Kurt singing along to the radio. He half danced through the living room to the kitchen where Kurt was leaning over the sink and tapping his foot.
“Can't touch this!” Blaine joined in and Kurt flinched, spinning around with a carrot and a peeler held as weapons.
“Gosh Blaine, you scared me!” he said and turned around to the sink again. “I though you wouldn't be home for another hour.”
“Well, Amanda was basically throwing phlegm all over the piano so I sent her home,” Blaine explained as he walked over the put his arms around Kurt and kiss him on the cheek.
“I hope you didn't catch her germs. If you in infect me I will have to take serious measures against this vile act directed at my vocal abilities,” Kurt said but leaned into the touch. “You're all wet.”
“I forgot the umbrella,” Blaine let go moved to the stove and rice was boiling. “What are we having?”
“Chicken,” Kurt said and scotched down chopped up vegetables into the frying pan.
“Wonderful.” Blaine opened the fridge and took out the filets.
“And what exactly do you think you're doing?” Kurt asked and Blaine frowned.
“I'm helping you with dinner?”
“Now what you should do is to get out of those wet clothes and put on one of those ungodly but dry t-shirts because if you get sick, I get sick and if I get sick I can't sing,” Kurt reasoned and took the meat from Blaine's hands and shrugged. “Then you're more than welcome to make the salad.” He smiled smugly.
“Your concern for my health is touching,” Blaine proclaimed as he walked out of the kitchen door and to their bedroom, taking off his shirt as he went.

*

“So how was your day?” Kurt asked 15 minutes later and filled half of their plates with salad.
“Thanks. It was alright. Ivan was really nervous about this concert that he is going to be singing at next week. It's his first big performance outside school and he is really struggling with his confidence at times but I think he's getting there. Today he hit all the high notes so I'd like to believe he was a bit calmer when he left.” he paused to take a bite and closed his eyes. “Wow, this is really good.” Kurt snickered.
“Better than usual?”
“It's like...” Blaine scrunched his face together and closed his eyes. “The best...” He threw he head back and moaned loudly.
“Oh here we go again.”
“Meal ever!” Blaine cried the words out and slammed his fist against table. Kurt laughed and took a sip of water.
“Ah, the short version. And I am left having to remind you, once again, that I was appointed the role as Sally.” Kurt raised an eyebrow and continued eating.
“I'm too hungry,” said Blaine and picked up his fork as if he had not just faked the shortest orgasm since that time they had been in an actual restaurant and Kurt had been extremely unamused. “And I am not stopping you from acting on that.”
“Well, I don't think I'll be doing any faking considering we haven't had sex in almost a week,” Kurt said matter of factly. Blaine laughed a little and for a quick moment he was reminded of a 16 year old Kurt who put his fingers in his ear and started singing as soon as you brought up the subject. But now he simply glanced up on the clock on the wall, ten years older and all innocence taken.
“You're so beautiful.” The words spilled out of Blaine's mouth like so many times before, a simple smile on his lips. Kurt's eyes met Blaine's, and it was like looking back in time at that boy who couldn't believe that someone could love him. A slow smile creeped down from his eyes to his lips. For a moment it was just quiet.
Then Kurt tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes.
“Blaine, that must be the oldest line in the book.”
Blaine laughed and shook his head a little, enjoying the comfort of having dinner with the person that he loved.

*

Blaine took care of the dishes and Kurt changed his outfit. Even though he would be in his costume on stage he insisted on looking his best between locations.
The difference between them might have been remarkable for an outsider looking in. Kurt was standing in the hall, and Blaine heard the keys rattling as he put them in his pocket. He scurried out of the kitchen and to say goodbye.
Kurt was wearing a paisley patterned vest over a grey shirt with matching trousers. Blaine leaned against the doorframe in a pair of his favorite jeans, worn out after quite a few years, and a t-shirt with the words He had it coming from the musical Chicago.
“So good luck tonight,” Blaine said while Kurt put on his waterproof trench coat which always made Blaine think of vintage cop movies from his childhood. Kurt smiled but rather distantly, already going into stage mode. He reached for a hat on the shelf above the shoes and made the detective look complete. Blaine snickered.
“You look as though you're ready to wander some dark alleyways, looking for clues with a giant magnifying glass,” Blaine told him, careful not to sound too serious and striking a pre-performance nerve.
“You look like you're gonna paint a house and make people question your sexuality, not knowing whether to believe the trucker pants or the Broadway shirt,” Kurt replied without missing a beat. Blaine cocked his head. “They's probably settle for straight after considering the hair.”
Kurt ran a hand through Blaine's wild curls, unruly after the rain.
“People judge too quickly,” Blaine said. His eyes flickered to Kurt's smirk and then back up to his eyes. He leaned in and kissed him on the lips, intending it to be quick peck but lingering a moment longer. Kurt closed his eyes and his fingers traveled down to rest at the crook of Blaine's neck, his lips fitting perfectly on Blaine's, as if they were molded to go there. Safe and warm.
“No go kick some butt,” Blaine said between his teeth and reinforced the statement by slapping Kurt's ass.
“Got it. Have a nice evening.” Kurt kissed Blaine on the cheek and was on his way.
Blaine sighed as he door closed. He was tired of always saying goodbye. He'd thought that they would have a steady rhythm by now, with mutual routines, but instead they spent more time apart than ever.
He curled up in the sofa and flipped through the TV channels dully.
Kurt had only been on Broadway a few months, almost accidentally landing one of the lead roles in a new musical called Octagon. Blaine was happy for Kurt. Thrilled actually. There was nothing in the world he wanted more Kurt to be happy and now his dream about making it in New York finally had come true.
Blaine smiled at the memory of when Kurt had gotten the call from the director, offering him a part. It had been a sunny Thursday afternoon and they had been taking a walk in Central Park. Kurt had stopped dead in his tracks, with the phone pressed against his ear and his eyes so wide that Blaine's immediate thought was that someone had died.
“Yes. Yes. Thank you,” was all that Kurt had said, his voice going high in pitch. He'd hung up and Blaine asked him what had happened, afraid of the answer.
“Blaine. Blaine!” Kurt had looked at him in utter shock and started crying and Blaine pulled him tight to his chest.
“Please tell me what's wrong.”
“It... I...” Kurt sobbed. “I got it... Blaine, I got the part!”
Blaine's heart had stopped, not sure if he'd heard correctly. He'd drawn back a little to look at Kurt rosy face.
“You... Got it?” he whispered.
“I got it!” Kurt was by then smiling with his entire body, the meaning of the news settling in. “Blaine, I am going to be on Broadway!” He held both of Blaine's hands and jumped up and down a couple of times. Blaine mirrored his smile and felt himself blushing with pride.
“Congratulations, Kurt. This is just... You're going to be fantastic,” Blaine had told him when they hugged again. “Let's go get some champagne.”

Blaine switched off the TV. The rain was still pouring outside and the living room was gloomily dark, matching his mood. How many nights had he not spent in the last couple of months, restlessly passing time. He missed cuddling in the couch, watching an old movie and listening to Kurt's remarks about distasteful choice of wardrobe and not to mention that hair. Even though, or maybe because, they'd been together for almost ten years Blaine felt incomplete without Kurt. He was so used to his presence and of coming home to him. The night used to be theirs. Even when they were in college and working double jobs to pay the rent they had made sure to spend all the time they could with each other, even if it meant staying up the entire night and falling asleep on the floor. Now they were always too tired and spontaneous romance had taken the backseat.
The floor... Blaine thought and squinted at the open surface behind the couch. Why not?

*

Blaine's stomach twisted with excitement when he heard the keys in the door, the same kind of excitement that he used to feel before going on stage back in the day when he was doing that.
He listened quietly as Kurt took of his hat, coat and finally shoes. The moment Blaine heard Kurt checking that the door was locked he cleared his throat and the piano chair creaked as he started playing.
“I walked across an empty land, I knew the pathway like the back of my hand”.
Kurt stood on the threshold between the hall and the living room, right next to the piano with a gaping look of amazement. Blaine felt the corners of his mouth going up all by themselves.
“...sat by the river and it made me complete”. He met Kurt's eyes. “Oh simple thing, were have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on”
Blaine belted out, keeping his gaze locked with Kurt's the entire verse. Kurt looked about as taken aback as the first time Blaine had sung this to him, almost blushing.
Blaine quickly looked down on the keys as the verse progressed to chorus.
“And if you have a minute why don't we go...” He looked back up on Kurt. “Talk about it somewhere only we know” Kurt was smiling and blinking slowly.
“This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go, somewhere only we know”
The tempo somewhat slowed down and Blaine hunched forward singing softly, eyes closed.
“Somewhere only we know...”
He felt Kurt sit down next to him, the fresh smell of cold city air filling his nose.
“Somewhere only we know,” Kurt joined in on the last line, a whisper but fully audible to Blaine, who decided to end the song, letting the last chord ring out.
“Welcome home,” he said after a moment of silence, letting his hands fall down in his lap. Kurt put his own hands over Blaine and squeezed them tight.
“Thank you.” His voice was raspy. Blaine smiled and nudged him with his shoulder.
“Look behind you.”
Kurt didn't turn around immediately and Blaine watched as his eyes widened and bit his lip.
Kurt turned his head and Blaine carefully watched the expression on his face, happy to see the fines lines around his eyes as his entire face lit up.
“Oh my god, Blaine!” he laughed. “A wine picnic! In out living room. On the floor! This has been ages.”
Blaine jumped up from the chair and Kurt followed to sit down on the tablecloth that Blaine had laid out, accompanied by two glasses, a bottle of red wine and some crackers (if Blaine had planned this in advance he would have been a bit more exclusive with a baguette, dark chocolate and possibly custom made napkins).
“May I serve the gentleman some wine?” Blaine pulled the sides of his mouth down in what he felt was a very snobby manner. Kurt gestured to his glass elegantly.
“Please do.”
Blaine poured the wine in silence, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. One that they'd shared many times before, when words simply weren't necessary.
They sipped on the wine, looking at each other happily. Blaine could not for his life understand why they didn't do things like this more often.
“So you will not believe what happened on stage tonight,” Kurt started after a minute of so, putting down his glass to free his hands. Blaine smiled encouragingly and only let the thought of this is why exist in his mind for a split second.
“Michelle got the hiccups during Stern Mr Face and they just kept coming during the entire song! So when I was standing over here, you know on the right next to Marcel,” Kurt demonstrated with his hands “waiting to turn around and do my thing I have to listen to Michelle's hiccup from across the stage, which by the way probably was the squeakiest thing I have ever heard.” Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Oh shut up. Anyway – I can't believe we made it out alive, trying to keep a straight face was so hard but watcha gonna do when you're Stern Mr Face,” Kurt did a pose with every word of the title which Blaine vaguely remembered seeing in the performance.
“Hey, I should come and see the show again,” Blaine said and put a couple of crackers in his mouth.
“Mm, you really should!” Kurt grabbed a pillow from the couch and laid down. “It's so much better than last time you saw it.” Blaine laid down on his side, propped up on his elbow. “Well, anything's better than last time you saw it,” Kurt went on and looked over at Blaine. “With the fire alarm going off and all.”
“That was an interesting night.”
Kurt chuckled and drank from his glass, his head the only thing leaving the floor. Blaine watched the muscles of Kurt's neck stretching out and the tense line his jaw before Kurt let his head bump back down on the pillow and closed his eyes his eyes for a couple of seconds. Blaine laid down beside him on the pillow, striking up a conversation about the tireless subject of their crazy neighbor Mrs Friedman, which spun on to the election, which lead to Blaine's parents which quickly was followed by a review of the new production of A Chorus Line, leading them down memory lane when they first got to New York and went to auditions together.
“Remember that time when they made us read together without realizing that we knew each other?” Kurt said a bit too loudly, red wine having a loosening effect on him.
“As if I could forget!” Blaine was comfortably tipsy without feeling the least bit drunk. He grinned up at the ceiling. “And I had to yell at you for sleeping with my wife.”
“And... wait, what was my line?” Kurt pondered while laughing quietly, his hair tickling Blaine's ear. “Right! Something like 'But she's so fine, I just had to fuck her!'” Kurt said in his lowest voice and the room erupted into laughter.
“What the hell was that play and why were we auditioning for it?!” Blaine said as soon as he could breathe again.
“I have no idea. It must have been around the time when Rachel forced us to go to every single audition no matter what it was.” They both continued to chuckle. “Of course, she had already gotten on Broadway!”
Blaine exhaled shakily and turned his head to Kurt who still was giggling slightly, his chest trembling every now and then.
Blaine marveled at Kurt's profile, sharp in the dim light. His straight nose, cutting an angle from his face, his lashes slamming into each other with every blink. The curve of his lips, slightly parted, and the angle of his chin, leading down to the hollow of his throat.
Blaine shifted so that he was lying on his right side, closer than before, his knees pulled up in the triangular gap between Kurt's legs and floor, and neck stretched out against Kurt's shoulder.
Kurt's eyes had lazily followed Blaine's movements, finally settling on an undecided spot beyond his elbow. Blaine caressed the soft skin of Kurt's underarm, going as far up as the rolled up sleeves would allow him. At the same time he he began kissing the side of his neck, starting out very softly, as a ghost's touch. As soon he felt Kurt shivering he moved in closer, mouth traveling upwards to his jaw and hand to Kurt's chest, sliding in between the buttons of his shirt.
Kurt turned his head, leading Blaine's lips over Kurt's cheek and onto his mouth. Blaine had at some point lifted his head off the floor and was lying on Kurt's shoulder, close enough to feel his heart beat. The familiar sensation of Kurt's lips moving against his still made his pulse go up and he ran his tongue over Kurt's lower teeth, asking permission. Kurt invited him to come closer, a hand on his neck and the taste of wine in his mouth.
Blaine slid his hand under Kurt's shirt and rasped his fingers lightly against his waist, smiling ever so slightly as he got the response he had been aiming for – a tiny ragging sound at the back of Kurt's throat.
He skated his hand over Kurt's lower stomach, slowly but with purpose, downwards. He left Kurt's mouth to kiss and suck on his throat.
“Don't- Don't leave any marks,” Kurt said, a bit breathier than usual.
Blaine was used to this kind of demand and planted a light trail of pecks up to behind Kurt's ear.
“Surly you can cover it up with all that expensive Broadway stage makeup,” Blaine suggested in a low whisper over his earlobe and cunningly trailed his parted lips softly over the skin right next to his hairline, breathing warmly. Kurt's eyes fluttered shut.
“Yes,” Kurt said and Blaine was not quite sure if this was an answer or reaction but nevertheless it was some kind of consent and Blaine took the opportunity to close his mouth over a spot on Kurt's neck and draw in him like he was air. Because at this moment, it really felt as if he were. This skin – so soft and pale and salt – how could anyone live without this skin?
Blaine realized he must have been making some funny noises because Kurt was giggling again, very muffled but yet, giggling. Blaine decided to put a stop to this drunken behavior and moved down to his collarbone. Of course, his hair got in Kurt's face and tickled him so Blaine quickly started unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his chest. His hand had stopped at the waistband of Kurt's trousers, curling in the gap between the lining and the hollow of his hip.
Kurt's silent laughter ebbed out as Blaine moved lower, twining their legs together and having Kurt press his thigh Blaine's erection. Kurt twirled his hair in Blaine's hair as Blaine ground down his legs to get his mouth further down on Kurt's stomach. He was basically lying on top of Kurt's left leg when he reached his belly button and the fine, fine line of hair which he traced down with his index finger to the zipper, sloppy kisses following as he undid Kurt's pants.
Blaine was quite aroused by now, the wine and taste of his boyfriend having gone straight to his head, making him feel like he was 17 again wanting to touch every fraction of an inch of Kurt but not knowing how. Except now he did know how... He'd heard how Kurt's breathing had gotten heavier and felt his body instinctively molding into his. Blaine looked up at him and his head was to his side, eyes closed with lips slightly apart.
It was therefore Blaine was so surprised when he started tugging down the trousers that Kurt didn't stir. And how there wasn't much of an erection bulging under Blaine's hand.
Blaine stopped and looked up again and what a few seconds ago had appeared to be a face of lust now was a face of sleeping innocence. Who had a boy's hand in his pants and throbbing dick on his leg.
Blaine stayed absolutely still for a moment and tried to grasp the situation. When Kurt drew in a long streak of air and started breathing steadily through his nose, establishing the fact that he really was asleep, Blaine carefully rolled of him and landed flat on his back with a thud.
He stared up at the ceiling, overcome with a feeling of emptiness. Despite his desperation a minute earlier he now almost felt disgusted. However, lying there listening to Kurt breathing did nothing for his hard-on so he groggily stood up and went to the bathroom.
He felt like taking a shower but didn't want to risk waking Kurt up, because if having your cock sucked isn't exciting enough maybe the sound of water is, he bitterly thought as he unbuttoned his jeans and started stroking. It didn't take long before he came, short and without much pleasure.
He cleaned himself up and caught his reflection as he washed his hands. He was feeling emotionally drained – exhausted and something he probably would describe as disappointed. But his face looked downright pained. His mouth was drawn downwards yet relaxed. His eyebrows were a little closer together than usual and his jaw tense. But his eyes just looked sad, eyelids heavy and tired. Blaine quickly looked down at his hands instead, not quite recognizing the shadows on his face.
He felt a sudden pang of anger, at his reflection and stupidity and at Kurt for falling asleep.
“Who the fuck does that?” Blaine groaned under his breath and punched the light switch with force as he walked out of the bathroom. He fought the urge to slam the door shut and was left standing looking over the living room.
The feeling of anger towards Kurt subdued at the sight of him lying on the floor in this drafty apartment, curled up but with his shirt hitched up and back exposed.
Blaine sighed and walked over the creaking floor into the bedroom and got the blanket from their bed. He placed it over Kurt, made sure that it covered him everywhere before taking his jeans of and grabbing another pillow from the couch to lie down on.
Blaine closed his eyes and hoped that the nagging feeling in his chest would be gone when he woke up.

*

The sun shone through the windows, radiating over Blaine's face. He blinked repeatedly and put his arm over his eyes and rolled over to hide from the light. He groaned at the pain in his back and peeked out from under his elbow, meeting a pair of blue eyes.
“Good morning,” Kurt said, sounding as newly woken as Blaine felt. Blaine was confused for a moment at why Kurt was a his right side when he always slept on his left and looked around the room.
“We're on the floor,” he established sleepily, memories from last night flooding back. He did not feel like looking back at Kurt.
“I think you're right,” said Kurt and tapped his fingers against the floor. He yawned. “I can't believe we fell asleep here.”
Blaine shoot him a quick glance and began crawling up to a sitting position.
“Me neither.” His voice was dry and hard but you could blame that on sleep. Anyone else probably would. Kurt stirred, bringing his arm up to rest on and nudging Blaine with his foot. Blaine heard the question before it came.
“What's wrong?”
Blaine looked at him in disbelief, but Kurt looked just as puzzled as he sounded.
“You don't remember?
“Remember what?”
Pause.
Blaine felt his frustration growing with every tense second and gaped, searching for words. He made a strange sound which could pass for a laugh, except he didn't feel like laughing at all. Kurt's stare bore into the back of his head as he turned away, eyes flickering against the sunlight.
“Blaine, tell me.”
Kurt sat up, the blanket falling of his upper body and revealing his undone shirt.
“Why is my shirt open...” he mumbled to himself and Blaine rolled his eyes, embarrassment mixing with annoyance. He saw Kurt frowning in the corner of his eye. “And my zipper is down... Did we –“
“No Kurt, we did not,” Blaine snapped. “Someone fell asleep.”
He spat the words, anger bubbling up from his chest and not knowing what was worst – Kurt falling asleep or Kurt not even remembering.
“What, wait, no, that's not possib– Oh.” Realization dawned over his delicate features, smoothing the lines between his eyebrows and shooting up to his forehead instead. “Blaine, I'm so sorry, I was just so tired and –”
Blaine felt humiliated for so obviously being upset about this but the fact that he was upset was inevitable so here goes.
“Yes, thank you for remembering, Kurt.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, as poison pounding through his veins. “Clearly it was nothing worth staying awake for so I don't know why you would bother keeping it in your memory.”
Blaine knew that he made no sense, and he sighed inwardly when he saw the same feeling reflected in Kurt's eyes. But he just couldn't let this go.
“Blaine, you know that I treasure every moment with you and you cannot hold the fact that I was exhausted and somewhat drunk against me.” Blaine could hear the strain in Kurt's voice, as if trying not to lose his temper. As a grown up should. Not sulking in Blaine childish way. “We're not 19 anymore, you know.”
Blaine rubbed his forehead and huffed out a breath of air, mentally rising above the blush on his neck. He looked Kurt by his side who wore an expression of patience and worry, soft but determined.
“I know,” Blaine conceded reluctantly, letting logic win over emotion. He could see dark circles under Kurt's eyes and knew that his head was probably throbbing with a light hangover. He felt a little guilty when Kurt smiled wearily, so obviously tired. “I'm sorry, I know it's not your fault.”
“That we're getting old?” Kurt said in a lighter tone, his shoulders relaxing visibly. Blaine snorted and was happy to fall into this kind of silly conversation.
“We're not that old Kurt. 26 is not old,” Blaine said and felt his jaw loosen up with every word and his mood following.
“That's four years a away for 30. Time of death.” Kurt lay back down but winced and sat back up immediately. “It must be a bad sign that my back feels like it has been abused by a locker after sleeping one night on the floor.” He bit his lip mischievously and added “Or was that you? No? Too soon?”
Blaine chuckled a little but yes, it was too soon for jokes because the hurt was still just resting underneath his skin. And he had a feeling it went deeper than embarrassment and disappointment. But it was good to laugh a little, and see a bit of color on Kurt's cheeks as he probably was a bit embarrassed too.
“I really am sorry. For falling asleep I mean,” Kurt patted Blaine's knee sincerely. Then he quirked an eyebrow and leaned in a little. “I'm sure it would have been amazing.”
Blaine couldn't help but to snicker despite feeling as though Kurt's tone was a bit patronizing considering the fact that he must be tired and not at all in the mood. But then Kurt actually let his hand slide down his thigh while leaning on his other hand to get closer to Blaine's face.
“Perhaps I'll make it up to you,” Kurt whispered in his ear and edged his fingers in under Blaine's boxers. Blaine did not see this coming and was taken by surprise more than anything else. Not that morning sex was that rare on the weekends but hungover or otherwise physically unfit Kurt never wanted sex. Blaine turned slightly to face Kurt and did not mind his morning breath as much as the pity in his kiss. Kurt's lips were a bit weak against his, dry and without that hunger to get really close. He hitched his hand up further in Blaine's underwear, as if to make up for it, but was stopped by Blaine's hand. Kurt pulled back slightly and pushed his lips together, hesitantly meeting Blaine's eyes.
Maybe it wasn't pity, maybe it was guilt. Either way, Blaine could not let Kurt go through with anything if those were his reasons. An awkward knot in his stomach began tying and it was not anywhere near arousal. Kurt confusedly blinked up at him.
“I'm going to make some breakfast,” Blaine announced after a second and squeezed Kurt's hand before scrambling to his feet. “How do eggs sound?”
“Um, sure,” Kurt said and ran a hand through his hair.
Blaine felt the need to smile at him, to reassure him that there was no harm done and that he understood and that he could see Kurt's headache puffing out of his ears. “Coming right up.”
Kurt looked relieved and Blaine turned to the kitchen and wondered why his face was aching as the smile came trickling off his mouth.

***