The pictures of Blaine had been more perfect than Kurt had imagined they would be. There was just something so stunning about his features, the ease at which he'd been there in front of the lens instead of behind it – despite his comments to Kurt throughout the entire developing process that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had his picture taken, at least not in any way more than on a friend's phone or something like that. His gaze was captivating in all of them and Kurt had struggled to narrow it down as he'd looked at the negatives, wanting to see them all full size and fully developed. Except then Blaine reminded him that the negatives were going to be scanned and he could print them later, and besides, Kurt had seen how much time it would have taken to do that all so it really wasn't the best use of their time.

It wasn't like Kurt could have complained about how they'd spent the time instead, pressed back against Blaine's bed while his clothes tumbled in the washer so he would be able to go home at some point. His apartment had been the furthest place from his mind as his mouth had moved over the soft skin of Blaine's neck, the tip of his tongue tracing along tendons as their legs tangled and hips pressed together, lips crushing back together in a flurry of hard and deep kisses as they rocked against the sheets and made more laundry to be done later but neither of them cared about that. How could they, when they were there like that together?

After so much comfort and constant companionship over a twenty-four hour period, Kurt found it difficult to pull on his own clothes – still warm from the dryer – and think about getting on the train back home. That was why he'd lingered, lacing his shoes slowly as he watched Blaine where he was perched on the bed, scrolling through something on his phone but obviously glimpsing at Kurt from the corner of his eye the entire time. It had been a full day, and the semi-darkness of the city had already taken over outside, the street lights the only thing keeping it from feeling like complete night.

"You should come with me," Kurt said, no hesitation in his voice. He hadn't even stopped to register that his thoughts were forming into words and being vocalized without his permission, but he wasn't apologetic for them. Blaine had been to his apartment before, and they'd moved so far beyond whatever they'd been before the night prior, so he didn't feel like he even had to try and start to explain. When Blaine glanced up at him, like he was confirming that he'd heard him instead of imagining, Kurt knew he didn't have to.

"I'd love that," Blaine replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting to his feet, swiftly moving over to press a kiss against the corner of Kurt's mouth and linger there just long enough for Kurt's eyes to flutter closed. "Just give me a minute."

The train ride was so much better with someone there to share it with, despite how much Kurt had always cherished the time to himself and the ability to let his mind wander freely without the concern for trying to engage in a conversation or keep someone occupied. Blaine was easy to be around, so it shouldn't have been surprising that it held true for there as well. They settled into a pair of seats and Blaine slid his backpack down between his feet before reaching over and linking their hands together. Kurt looked down at their fingers lacing and then over, catching the little grin playing at the corners of Blaine's mouth just quickly enough before Blaine's head was turned to take in the passengers around them.

That was how easy it was the entire time. There was no conversation, just the occasional comment passed back and forth but for the most part; it was just the quiet and rock of the train on the tracks to lull them along on their way to Manhattan. Their hands stayed linked except for the times Kurt would draw his away just enough to let his fingertips trace along the lines in Blaine's palm. His hand was soft, warm, and Kurt could so easily remember the way it had felt against his skin earlier that day. It was a sense memory that he never wanted to forget, right along with the way their lips felt pressed together or how Blaine's fingernails were blunt and bit against his skin in the best possible way. The whole ride to Manhattan was full of the past day flowing through his head and keeping his mind occupied.

"I would ask if you were going to make me dinner again," Blaine commented as they got off the train at the right stop, "but considering we ordered that in a couple hours ago..." He gave a light tug to Kurt's hand and pulled him toward the wall of the platform, away from the flow of people and stopping amidst it all. Kurt's brow furrowed as he glanced over to see what Blaine was doing, but he was just letting his gaze sweep over everything around them.

"Blaine?"

"I love this platform," Blaine said softly, his words almost getting lost from a train coming from the other direction and thundering over them. "I've only been on it a few times, but I'll always remember it how you drew it – that was the first time I saw it, after all."

Kurt looked down along the platform, eyes following the yellow line along the edge and roaming over the tile on the walls, the station name written on the wall, taking it all in the way Blaine had just moments before. He'd been getting on and off at that station for so many years that he didn't even notice it, but that was what had caused him to draw it on his first day so he supposed that made sense. It felt ridiculous to think back to that day, how he'd been so hesitant and more than a little nervous or scared of what he was doing. How he felt about everything then, standing there on that platform with Blaine, it was hard to imagine there was a time that he hadn't known he could feel like that, so free and passionate about life.

"Come on." Kurt leaned over and pressed a kiss against Blaine's temple, squeezing his hand. "I'm pretty sure that guy down there is about to start singing and I've heard him before, he's horrible. Unless you plan on putting him to shame..."

Blaine just grinned at him before hiking his backpack up higher on his shoulder and pulling away from the wall to head toward the exit. It was different than the last time they'd made the walk together, no question about where they stood or if the evening would be lovely or verge into awkward. Blaine had been right about the dinner situation, because they'd already eaten, but it wasn't like dinner had been on the forefront of Kurt's mind when he'd made the invitation. It was more like he felt drawn toward Blaine in such a way that made him not want to be so far away, not when they'd just started to explore exactly how much they wanted with each other.

"So I'm not going to lie," Kurt started as he let them into his apartment and made a beeline for his room to grab some comfortable clothes to change into, "this whole gallery opening terrifies me."

"Why?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows furrowing in as he shut and locked the door, walking far enough into the small living room to be able to look back to where Kurt was. "You're incredibly talented."

"You keep saying that and I'm starting to believe you with just how much you mean it, but that doesn't change the fact that the last time my art was anywhere someone could see it was my senior art show in college. This is abitof a bigger deal than that."

"You have nothing to worry about," Blaine replied, his voice calm and soothing as he dug into his backpack to grab out clothes to change into. Kurt was all the way into pajamas of sorts by the time Blaine started, and he raked his hand through his hair as he came back out of his bedroom and gave a noncommittal shrug. "You don't!"

"Says the man who started this whole thing," Kurt said, waving his hand around airily as if that could somehow encompass everything Blaine had done – but there was no way to do that, there was far too much.

"Hey, I just got lucky—"

"Fate," Kurt interrupted.

"Fate," Blaine agreed, pausing midway through pulling on a pair of sweatpants to reach over and cup Kurt's cheek, his thumb stroking against it. "You're fate, too."

They opened a bottle of wine and took the glasses into Kurt's bedroom, careful to pour into them over the nightstand rather than the bed because that could have been disastrous. Blaine sat back against the propped up pillows and let his gaze travel around the room, taking it in for the first time. Kurt had pinned up some of his drawings to the wall, the drawings from his first day over at the warehouse. He liked to think of them as reminders of what he was doing, why he was willing to put himself out there and give himself over to the art becausethatwas what he was trying to avoid – his former place of employment, his cubicle – and the pieces of his life that had been steadfast but fallen boring and monotonous over the years – his apartment, the subway platform. It was all right there for him to see every day.

"I was so scared you weren't going to come back," Blaine admitted as Kurt settled in beside him, wineglass in hand and already sipped from. "Not everyone does. Well, not everyone comes in the first place. But there you were and I'd seen your art from in college and I was just sodrawnto it—"

"Hardehar," Kurt broke in quietly, unable to stop himself from calling Blaine out on his pun, and Blaine nudged him in response and rolled his eyes.

"Youmoveme, Kurt," he continued, reaching over with his free hand and taking Kurt's, squeezing it softly. "You, your art, I love being able to get to see how you look at things. I know it's easy to do that with me because I take pictures and you can literally see what I was looking at, but it's not so easy with you and you give such beautiful insight into what's going on around you." He gestured up to the pages pinned into the wall, a soft smile playing across his features. "I was scared you weren't going to come back and when you did, it was like I could draw full breaths again and I didn't have to keep waiting on the edge of my seat."

"You were waiting for me?" Kurt asked, letting his head tilt against the wall so he could look over at Blaine more clearly even though he knew his cheeks had to be slightly flushed from how Blaine was talking. It still didn't make any sense to him that someone whose work he'd admired for so long was even looking at his, let along complimenting it to the point of making him blush. But there was Blaine, looking so earnest and content about it all.

"It felt like I was waiting for the longest time, like I was looking for you forever," Blaine replied, his thumb rubbing over the back of Kurt's hand as he took a sip of his wine. "And here you are."

They were both done with their glasses before Kurt pulled out the various sketchbooks he'd accumulated over his time that he'd spent working on his arts over the past several months. Truthfully, he hadn't even realized how much he'd done until they were all sitting out in front of them and Blaine was systematically pulling them up one by one and flipping through the pages to look at every drawing. There was a lot to go through, Kurt realized, and he'd managed to set them out in chronological order -- but then again, that's how he'd had them stored.

By the time Blaine got to the portfolio he'd been working out of most recently, Kurt had his hands resting over top of it and his fingers drumming lightly against the cover. It wasn't that he was opposed to him looking; it was just that what he'd been working on specifically for the gallery was inside. Considering everything that Blaine had seen, it shouldn't have been that big of a deal. It was just that the drawings weren't just what was in Kurt's head, it was also what he saw in others, the collaboration between them all to make something personal for their grand opening. There were drawings about people that Blaine knew so much better than Kurt, and about Blaine himself, and it felt like looking at them was going to expose Kurt down to the bone and leave him entirely raw. He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to it or dreading it more.

Blaine raised an eyebrow and slowly slid the book out from under Kurt's hands, slowly enough to give him a chance to stop it if he wanted but Kurt knew that part of the reason he'd invited Blaine over in the first place was for that reason entirely. Kurt took their glasses and refilled them, draining what was left in the bottle and passing one back over to Blaine as he pulled out the drawings and looked at the first one. It hadn't started with the project for the gallery, just more random drawings and sketches to keep Kurt's mind busy and working as he got used to the idea of people seeing his art again.

It only took a few pages before Blaine got to the heart of it, the real meat behind what Kurt had been working on for public consumption. He'd done what he could to try and capture what his colleagues did as best as possible with nothing but a sheet of paper at his disposal and whatever utensils he used to mar the blankness and craft out their genius. Some were easier than others, but that was true about most things in life. Kurt knew Brittany, had gotten to know Santana as well, and they were both wild spirits of their own right. They were so different yet more similar than Kurt might have guessed when he first met them, and he knew that wasn't just because he was aware of how much they had going on in their lives together.

Brittany had been perhaps the easiest to capture, but she had also been one of the most open with him when it came to her artwork. Blaine had been the first to tell him about it, but she had invited him in so wholeheartedly and without any kind of preconception. She'd taught him to dance and drawn him so deeply into what she was doing that he'd felt lost in it. There was such passion in everything that Brittany did that it was borderline overwhelming, and Kurt knew he'd felt emotional when they'd been done with their dance in the paint, like a part of him had been pulled out and shown to the light. That was a gift she had, he had to guess, and although he knew she could have been doing great things on the stage, he was glad that she'd taken her injury and turned it into so much more rather than give herself over to mourning the loss of a career.

What he'd done, or at least tried to do, was capture how each artist saw what they were doing. For Brittany, it was dancing. That was already art in itself but she made it into something more permanent. Kurt had done his best to draw that from his perspective of knowing her, watching her, and how passionate about everything she was. The page was filled with a stage, open and vast with no people on it – but footprints. There were different colors, as many as he could have used without making it seem cluttered, and they littered the stage in patterns and steps. It was the first thing he'd done after they'd finished with dancing across a canvas together, looking into different dances and studying the step patterns so he could try and replicate them in his drawing for her. The colorful footprints against the starkness of the stage was something he was proud of, which was maybe why he was so nervous about someone else seeing it.

Santana was different entirely, because it had taken a while for Kurt to be able to feel out what she'd been doing when she was shut up in her own little room with a very graphic and threatening DO NOT DISTURB sign slapped on the door. Kurt had turned to Brittany to give him insight, and that was how he'd learned that Santana was working with multimedia and piecing together silhouettes of them all with fragments of what she considered to be pieces of them. That had been why she'd asked for a list of information, to be able to capture as much as she could. He'd tried to draw it as if looking down from her perspective, her hands over a puzzle that could form the outline of a person so long as she put all the pieces together correctly.

Sam and Quinn had been slightly more difficult. Kurt didn't know them nearly as well as he did anyone else and it had taken a good bit of research to try and figure out what to do exactly. There had been founts of knowledge in Brittany and Santana as far as what their specific mediums were, which had given Kurt a leg to stand on when he was looking at recent issues of Synergy to try and determine who had done what, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with portraying them as individuals. As people, he knew them. They had been kind to him in his time with them all, there was no doubt about that, but there was still the concern over capturing them in a way that was accurate, fair, and flattering.

Quinn had been easier than Sam, because Kurt had learned that generally she sculpted and that wasn't something difficult to portray. There was the brief concern of it seeming too Ghost-like, and hedefinitelydid not want it to come off as anything dirty when he knew she had a young daughter who might one day look at it and realize what was going on. But after looking back over the work in the publication and walking through the storage areas in the upper areas of the warehouse, Kurt had grown more familiar with what she had done and let himself be inspired by that more specifically. He'd spent a good long time studying her hands, and that was what his drawing had been – her hands and the clay beneath them, forming something simplistic and unimportant. It was a bowl, or it could have been turned into a mug if she wanted to slap a handle on it, but the important part to him was how her fingers melded into the clay and were forming it to their will.

Drawing someone molding clay was easy, but bringing movement to Sam's particular craft was difficult. For the most part he made prints, carved stamps and went to town working with colors and different types of forms on which he made his prints. Kurt could have drawn him working with the slabs of rubber, digging into them with his knife and forming an image out of nothing, but that didn't seem to give what he wanted to show. There was so much that he couldn't portray from that, but he supposed it was like that in all their various forms in one way or another. Sam carved his art on the rubber like Kurt drew on the blank page, like Brittany danced on the canvas and how Quinn saw so much more in a chunk of clay than it might have deserved from the start. That was their gift, all of them – being able to see past what was right in front of them and turning it into something beautiful and worth seeing.

Kurt had remembered a specific print he'd seen of Sam's, one that had drawn his attention more than others. It had been some part of the New York skyline, the buildings shooting up over the paper like they did in real life to the actual sky, and he remembered how he'd found it so beautiful and amazing how someone could have recreated it so perfectly. So that was what he drew for Sam, that skyline that Sam had crafted beautifully. Kurt drew it intricately, down to every detail, and then at the end added in Sam's hands and the little knife he would have used to carve the buildings out of nothing. It looked like any other New York City skyline except with how Sam's fingers drifted into frame and showed how he was so adept at making that beautiful print for whoever wanted to see.

By the time they got to what Kurt had done for Blaine, his entire glass of wine was gone and he was just leaning back against the pillows and letting his gaze flicker between the sketchbook and Blaine's face. More than anything, it was a rough draft. It was what he had been working on in the darkroom, so it wasn't even as though he'd been able to see what he was doing to its fullest extent. There were a few different pages, just because he'd had all that time sitting there and watching Blaine while he worked. Even more than that, he didn't think that any of the sketches on the pages were what he wanted to represent how he saw Blaine in how he saw what he was doing. They were all accurate representations of what he did when he was there developing the art that he'd created, but none of how he actually made that art. And wasn't that what it was all about?

"Here, give me that," Kurt murmured, tugging the portfolio from Blaine's hands as he turned to the first blank paper past the drawings. Blaine had clearly been looking for more, or at least that's what it had seemed like, and Kurt knew he was as well. He was better than that, and more importantly so was Blaine and that meant that something else needed to happen to bring it all to life.

Leaning over the edge of the bed and digging into his bag, Kurt pulled out a small case of pencils and set it between them, opening it so he could get one out and start in on the page. It wasn't like he'd never had anyone sit and watch him before, because it had happened so many times in college and then Blaine had a little before, and Brittany too, but never like that. Never when he was specifically drawing for that one person and they were sitting right there seeing every stroke of the pencil across the page and every time he smudged his fingertip against the page to blend a line or hide something he didn't like.

The drawing formed in a way that reminded Kurt of watching Blaine develop his photographs. There were steps and a bit of waiting but then the picture was there on the page, coming into focus like it was in whatever chemicals Blaine had used and becoming sharper the longer it was there in front of them. Most of what Kurt was drawing was around the sides and the edges, doing what he could to make it look like the viewer was peeking through the lens of a camera to see what was on the other side – because that was how Blaine saw the world.

Everything that he drew in the lens started out with sharp lines, just enough to show the distance between the photographer and the subjects. It was clear enough that it was a pair of people, though nondescript, and he picked out a few different colored pencils to use, adding shades, depth, and brightness to them and their clothes, hair, whatever seemed to need it but only on them and nothing to the scenery around them or the camera. Once he felt satisfied, he carefully smudged everything within the frame of the lens that wasn't the people, making it look and feel out of focus in comparison.

Blaine was doing his best not to hover, Kurt could tell, but it would have been difficult for him to achieve that considering their close proximity. It didn't seem so much like hovering as much as Kurt couldfeelhim watching. He tried not to look over, because he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep his focus or be able to continue what he was doing if he saw Blaine more than just out of his peripheral. That was why he kept his gaze fixed on the page in front of him and the pencil drifting across it, adding in little details here and there until it clicked in his head that there wasn't anything else needed.

"You're ridiculous," Blaine murmured, and Kurt finally let himself glance over. He'd resituated, which Kurt had felt him do – but Blaine had done it so slowly and gingerly as to not jostle him while he was working – and was leaning back against the pillows at an angle so he could see the drawing better than he could have before. His glass was long since empty and just resting against his stomach, held there absently by a few fingers lingering around the stem. "God, you're ridiculous."

"What—" Kurt started, breaking off when Blaine surged in, their mouths meeting in a firm yet tender kiss. His body relaxed into it, the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders from working and drawing released gradually with the way Blaine's tongue stroked against his lips and then inside, and Kurt sighed into his mouth as he felt the last bit of tightness in his muscles leave.

"Blaine," he murmured, eyes blinking open when Blaine pulled back but not very far, touching their foreheads together a moment before he shifted away enough to be able to look at him properly. "What...?"

"When we got here tonight, you were doubting yourself and abilities, and then you go and dothat? You're ridiculous. Don't you ever question yourself again, Kurt Hummel." Blaine's words may have been direct, but the sparkle in his eyes and the way he bopped his finger against Kurt's nose for emphasis kept it all from seemingtooserious.

"Okay," Kurt replied softly, leaning in to brush a kiss against his lips. "Like you'd let me."

"Absolutely not." Blaine grinned, kissing him again briefly before moving to gather up the sketchbooks that were littered across the bed. Kurt carefully slid the drawings for the gallery back into their portfolio, adding the one he'd done for Blaine, and once they were all inside he set it back in its place beside the bed along with the rest of the books. The wine glasses stayed on the nightstand with the empty bottle, left to be taken care of in the morning because leaving the comfort of that bed wasn't going to happen until then.

It felt nice to have Blaine there with him, curled up beside him beneath the covers as they settled in for sleep. Kurt felt like he could so easily get lost in the sweet, lazy kisses passed back and forth and the way Blaine's hand stroked against his arm and waist as if reassuring himself or maybe even both of them that everything was real. The wine seemed to have caught up as soon as Kurt laid down and it made him feel warm and a little fuzzy, but every time he felt the touch of Blaine's fingertips, his lips against his skin, he felt pulled right back into focus. And as he drifted off to sleep, with Blaine curled in his arms, he couldn't help but think that maybe that was just how Blaine was with everything in life, not just his photography – bringing focus to a blurry world and giving attention to what was truly important.

***

The gallery opening came faster than any of them had anticipated and for all of Blaine's usual blasé and optimistic attitude toward it all, Kurt could seem him wearing down to the point of stress. Then again, he'd spent a lot of time with Blaine leading up to it all – at least when they weren't working on their projects individually, but it meant that he noticed the little furrows of Blaine's brow more, the way he could get visibly concerned. It was abig dealafter all, and despite the fact that there was no doubt that they were all capable of pulling together a collection for display, the question was more of whether they would meet the deadline or not. It wasn't just the collaboration pieces, after all, but also other works to display what was more normal.

Kurt hadn't been back to the gallery since Blaine first took him there until they day they went to try and figure out exactly how everything would be displayed. The space had been finished beautifully, the walls stark and blank and just waiting for something to display. It was a bigger space than Kurt had remembered, but then again it looked so vast and empty, waiting to be filled. Everyone had been there that day, gathered around a scale drawing of the space and mapping out what would go where and how it would all fit and not look jumbled or crowded. Thankfully there hadn't been many issues, because with how frazzled Blaine had been looking about trying to make it all work, Kurt wasn't sure if he could have taken any turbulence on the matter.

The only other time they went there before the gallery opening was when they took all the art to put up. Kurt had spent an entire day matting and framing all his drawings, taking extra care to make sure they were absolutelyperfect. It was one of those moments where he could feel it deep inside that he'd made the right decision, because how could he not? With all his work laid out in front of him, carefully displayed just so in their individual frames, he'd looked over it and not felt a single question pulling at him. There was no nagging that maybe he should have added a little more detail to that one, or what if that other one wasn't vivid enough? He wasn't absurd enough to say that he thought his work was perfect in every aspect, but for what he'd set out to do and what he'd wanted to convey, it was for him.

Setting up all the artwork had been a daunting day, but it hadn't been as stressful as Kurt expected. There had been a truck rented to get it there, and once they'd all been there and unloading there had been music cranked up loudly thanks to Santana. Just having that in the background was enough to seem to relax everyone at least enough to get rid of any tension that might have been there before. Kurt had spent the majority of his time off in his sanctioned area, fiddling with the way the frames hung on the wall and how the lights were aimed down. It needed to be perfect.

"You can go," Blaine offered when Kurt lingered once he was done, sitting off to the side to stay out of everyone's way as they kept going. He supposed he'd had it easy with hanging frames on a wall as opposed to Quinn, who was dealing with pedestals and stands and arranging her ceramics on them, or Brittany, who had borrowed Sam to help her with the large canvases she had to try and get onto the wall. "I'm probably going to be here late but I'll see you when I'm done?"

"Okay," Kurt agreed, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly and giving a little nod. "I'll go to yours."

"Don't forget your suit!" Blaine called after him as he left, and Kurt glanced back over his shoulder with a playful but withering look, because as if he would have. They'd already talked about how they were going to get ready for the gallery opening together, because both of them admitted that doing it on their own seemed like a whole lot less fun. And, Kurt would have added, he was likely to be less of a bundle of nerves with Blaine there to keep him from getting that way. That was just as important as anything else.

By the time he got to the warehouse, suit in a garment bag and put straight into Blaine's closet, he still had a bit of time before Blaine joined him. He'd been there when it had been empty before, of course, but never thatempty. It wasn't just devoid of people, but also a lot of the art that was usually lingering around. Brittany's room was just a floor filled with footprints and cans of paint off to the side, but nothing leaning against the wall as proof of why. Santana's had scraps of paper across the entire length of it, and one or two things hanging on the wall but that was it. It was almost surreal how empty it felt, and Kurt just went up to Blaine's apartment to keep from letting it get to him because it was empty for good reason but still managed to feel eerie.

Blaine arrived exhausted and immediately dropped face down onto the bed after a meek greeting of'honey, I'm home,' groaning into his pillow and becoming quite adamant that he wasn't going to be moving until absolutely necessary. It was adorable, honestly, and Kurt shifted over from where he'd been scrolling through his email on his phone to tug Blaine's shoes off his feet and roll him over onto his back so he could undo the buttons of his shirt. At least Blaine moved easily, because otherwise he was like a rag doll and his limbs flopped down against the bed one at a time as Kurt tugged his clothes off of him.

"You're pretty good at getting my clothes off," Blaine murmured, reaching up to cup the back of Kurt's neck and pull him down to kiss. Kurt smiled against his lips and hummed softly before pulling back, his hand pressed lightly against Blaine's chest.

"Yeah, well if you manage to move yourself into the middle of the bed, I'll give you a backrub so good you'll want to get mine off, too," Kurt replied teasingly, huffing out a light laugh as Blaine wriggled over onto the bed more and rolled onto his front again, stretching his limbs out with a contented sound.

There was so much tension in Blaine's back, Kurt could feel it under his hands as he smoothed them across his skin and worked at the knots and kinks. It wasn't like Blaine had only been dealing with his own work at the gallery, but he'd put up the collections of collaborations as well, wanting to make sure they were all going to fit into their areas and that the displays would look like they'd planned them to. That was why he'd been there so late, other than making sure everyone else was doing fine, and Kurt could tell how tired and worn he was by the way Blaine seemed to sink further into the bed with every press of thumbs up the length of his spine and broad strokes of palms down his back.

"Well Idowant to take your clothes off," Blaine mumbled once Kurt was done and shifted off of how he'd been straddling his hips, but Blaine didn't move from how he was stretched on the bed with his head pillowed on his arms. "But I don't think I can move... and I think I might be asleep already..."

"I won't take it personally," Kurt said, leaning down to press a kiss against Blaine's hair. "Just sleep."

"Tomorrow." Blaine blinked his eyes open enough to look over at Kurt. "We open tomorrow."

"And what a day it shall be," Kurt replied, sliding down to lay beside him as Blaine shifted one of his hands over to take Kurt's.

"I'm so glad I get to share it all with you."