Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

Written as a collaboration with psychopiratess.


He grunted.


He curled up in a ball, pulling the blankets over his head.


The bed shifted as someone crawled onto the bed beside him.

"Good morning, Babbie."

He grunted again, louder this time, but his sister, not to be dissuaded, scooted closer and twined a curl around her finger.

"Good morning, Babbie sunshine," she singsonged. "Good morning, Babbie sunshine."

He pulled the covers down just enough to glare at his sister. Francey's nose was inches away from his. "Ge' th' he' out," he croaked, tugging his blankets away from her.

"No, no, no, you have to get up," she said, nuzzling his ear. "You have to get up and love me."

He picked up a pillow sleepily and bopped her on the head. She bit his ear. "No, I'm serious, you have to love me," she said. "So you know how Mom and Dad decided to not do the New Year's Eve party this year and drive up to Pennsylvania to see Pop-Pop and Mamaw?"

"Yeah," he said groggily into his pillow. "They left yes'day."

"Yes, well, ever since yesterday I've been trying to convince them that we should have a party instead, and they finally said yes," Francey grinned.

Blaine rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. "And I'm supposed to love you why?" he mumbled.

Francey sat up and crossed her legs, leaning back on her hands. "Because I called Kurt's parents and sweet-talked them into letting Kurt come," she said. "They asked Kurt, he said he wanted to come, and they gave their permission."

Blaine bolted upright. "Are you serious?" he said.

Francey grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Have I mentioned that it's a sleepover party?" she said.

Blaine stared at her for a second, then flung his arms around her neck. "Oh my god, I love you right now," he said.

"What, you mean you don't love me consistently?" she said. She laughed and ruffled his wild curls. "You'd better get up, Babbie. There's like fifteen people coming over at seven, and you have a shit-ton of cleaning to do."

"What do you mean, I have a shit-ton of cleaning?" Blaine frowned.

Francey slid off the bed. "I'm going grocery shopping," she said.

"Oh, no," Blaine said, scrambling off the bed. "Oh, no, you're not. I don't trust you with anything food-related."

"Oh, come on, I've picked out a fabulous menu," she said.

"I doubt that," he called.

The last day of the year passed by in a flurry of cleaning, organizing and three trips to the grocery store (Blaine blamed Francey; Francey blamed her inability to write things down properly). Before long it was six-thirty and someone was ringing the doorbell.

Blaine closed the refrigerator door. "Francey, get that!" he called.

"Can't, I'm upstairs," she called back. "Besides, don't you want to say hi to your boyfriend yourself?"

Blaine tilted his head, then ran for the foyer. He paused long enough to straighten his clothes and smooth down his hair, then opened the front door. "Hi," he said, somewhat breathless.

"Hey, Blaine," Finn said. He had two bags slung across his shoulder, a battered backpack and a bright red duffel, and his other arm was tight around Kurt's shoulders. "Sorry, we're a little early."

"No, no, it's fine," Blaine said, his eyes locked on Kurt. "Hi."

"Hi," Kurt said. His skin was pale, but he was smiling. Blaine took both of his hands and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Finn cleared his throat. "Can, uh, we come in?" he asked, shifting his weight awkwardly. "It's kind of cold out."

"Oh, sure, yeah," Blaine said, opening the door wider. Finn helped Kurt inside. A little pang shot through Blaine's heart at the sight of Kurt walking so stiffly, leaning heavily on Finn's support. "You can, um, if you want to lie down on the couch…"

Finn half-carried Kurt over to the sofa, dropping his bags to the floor. Kurt fumbled for the buttons of his coat and shrugged carefully out of the sleeves. Blaine caught the slight twist of his mouth as his bad shoulder turned.

"Where can I put these?" Finn asked, nodding towards the bags.

"Oh, we can just put them in my dad's library, I guess," Blaine said.

Finn hoisted them. "Show me?" he said.

Blaine frowned and headed down the hall. Finn glanced back over his shoulder, then leaned in close to Blaine. "Listen, Kurt's having a bad day," he whispered. "He tried to hide it so Burt wouldn't tell him to stay home, but he slept the whole way here and was really restless and stuff."

Blaine blinked. "What should we do?" he asked. "Should we…should we make him go to bed or something?"

Finn set the bags down by the comfy leather armchair in the corner and shrugged. "He won't listen," he said. "Believe me. We've tried. He doesn't listen to us. The best we can do is make sure he's not pushing himself too hard and that he's taking all of his meds." He sighed heavily. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

Blaine slid his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "I'll…I'll try," he said.

Finn offered him a slight lopsided smile. "It's the best anybody can do right now," he said, heading back towards the living room. Blaine took a deep breath and followed him.

"Hi," he said, smiling at Kurt.

Kurt tilted his head back. "I believe we covered the pleasantries," he said. Blaine sat down on the arm of the couch and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "That's better."

Blaine touched his forehead to Kurt's. "Do you need anything?" he asked. "A glass of water, something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine," Kurt said, almost too quickly. "Do you need help with anything? I can help you cook things if you'd like."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "No," he said. "No, I'm…I think things are pretty good at the moment."

"What the hell, Kurt, you really want to go over to someone else's house and do all their cooking?" Francey said as she breezed through the living room. She paused long enough to kiss the top of Kurt's head, slap Finn on the hip, and ruffle Blaine's hair. "Seriously. No. We've got it covered."

Kurt shrugged. "I just like cooking," he said.

"Well, we've got mostly just snack stuff. We're ordering pizza later," Blaine said. He squeezed Kurt's good shoulder lightly. "I should have asked you first. Is that okay? I can make something else for you to eat if you want."

"No, it's fine," Kurt said.

Finn squinted at his cell phone screen. "Hey, you should probably take your meds soon," he said.

Blaine didn't miss the look that flashed across Kurt's face, a combination of anger and frustration. "Well, just tell me whenever you're ready," he said nonchalantly to Kurt "I'll tell you where we keep the glasses so you can get something to drink."

Kurt seemed to relax at that, just a little bit, and Finn was distracted by the doorbell ringing again. "I'll get it this time!" Francey hollered.

"It's probably Rachel," Finn said, perking up.

"Who's all coming?" Kurt asked.

Blaine leaned back against the arm of the couch. "I really don't know," he said. "I just woke this morning and Francey announced we were having a party. She could've invited half the town for all I know."

Francey strolled back into the living room. "I'll have you know that I did not invite half the town," she said. "I considered it, but I didn't." She stepped back. "Look who's here."

Kurt straightened up. "Wes," he said, stricken. "David. I…um…hi."

The two Warblers stood on either side of Francey, looking slightly out-of-place and unfamiliar out of their school uniforms. They both held matching duffel bags in Dalton colors. "Hello, Kurt," Wes said formally. "How are you…how are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you," Kurt said, quiet and polite.

David sighed heavily and set down his duffel bag. "All right, this is awkward," he said. He put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "We've all been worried about you. All of us Warblers. It's not the same without you."

Kurt blinked, his eyelashes dark against his pale skin. "Oh," he said. "Well, thank you for…being concerned."

"I'm really sorry it happened," David said. "You didn't deserve it."

Kurt just looked down at his knees.

"The girls send their love," Wes said quietly. "Jo and Lucy. They've been so worried about you. Lucy was devastated."

"I'll give her a call at some point, I suppose," Kurt said.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment until, thankfully, the doorbell rang. Francey slipped out of the room to answer it and returned with a beaming, bouncing Rachel with a bright pink tote bag swinging from her hand.

"I've arrived!" she announced cheerfully. "I brought all the proper requirements for a sleepover. Vegan sugar cookies, nail polish, and my entire Barbra Streisand DVD collection."

Finn wrinkled his nose as Rachel dropped a hello kiss on his cheek. "No offense, but that sounds pretty boring," he said.

"Seconded," Francey said. "I vote for Rock Band, pizza, and strip poker."

"I vote against the strip poker," Blaine said dryly.

Rachel looked Francey up and down, frowning. "Who are you again?" she inquired.

Francey stuck out her hand. "Francey, Blaine's sister," she said. "And you are overbearing with minimal social skills, correct?"

Rachel's frown deepened. "My name is Rachel Berry," she said.

"Ah, then I'm right," Francey said. "I've heard about you."

"Mostly good things," Kurt said. "But only mostly."

Blaine looked down at Kurt. He was smiling a bit at his own sarcastic quip, but even that hint of a smile couldn't belie how pale and drawn he looked. Blaine sidled a little closer as the doorbell rang again and Francey left to answer it.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning close to Kurt's ear. "You'll tell me if you're not feeling good, right?"

Kurt hesitated, then nodded slightly. Blaine kissed him right above the ear.

Before long the house was packed with the twelve members of New Directions, three Warblers, Francey, and Kurt. The noise levels quickly reached nearly unmanageable levels, and before long Kurt rested his head on Blaine's knee, as if he was trying to hide from the sound. Blaine stroked his hair gently.

Francey glanced over at him; he shrugged. She plunged her fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle, effectively silencing the crowd.

"Okay, you have got to teach me that," Lauren said.

"And I shall," Francey said. "But right now I think we need some organization to our chaos. Rock Band, anyone?"

Puck and Sam nearly fell over themselves to get to the entertainment center as Francey whipped open the console doors, revealing the instrument controllers. "Drums!" Finn called, scrambling up from the floor and nearly stepping on Rachel. "I call drums."

"Finn, you've got to share the drums at some point," Tina said, shaking her head.

"Vocals!" Wes called. "I'll take vocals if no one else wants them."

Santana snatched a controller from Sam's hands. "I'm playing bass," she declared. "Just try and stop me."

"Oh hell no," Artie said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe we should come up with a rotation system," Rachel offered helpfully.

"How will spinning in circles help us play?" Brittany inquired. Without waiting for an answer she sat down beside Kurt. "Do you want one? If you tell me what you want, I'll make the boys give it to you."

Kurt raised and lowered one shoulder. "No, I'm fine," he said.

"You sure?" Mercedes said as she glanced back from the television screen. "You can sing if you want. You can lie on the couch for that."

Kurt stared straight ahead. "I don't really feel like singing," he said quietly.

Blaine opened his mouth, then closed it. That one quiet sentence made his heart ache much more than it should. He looked up to see Mercedes staring at him, startled.

"Blaine, how does this damn thing work again?" Francey asked, waving an Xbox controller.

Puck took it from her. "Here, sweet thing, I got this," he said.

Lauren elbowed him. "Well, you just forfeited an evening of Breadstix and over-the-clothes fondling," she said, and Sam laughed. Puck smacked him.

Everything blended back into the same easy, noisy camaraderie. Blaine slid an arm around Kurt's waist; Kurt leaned his head back against his chest and closed his eyes.

One of the perks of playing Rock Band with a group of musically inclined people was that everything, for the most part, actually sounded good. Santana nailed the vocals for Alanis Morisette's "You Oughta Know" and Finn managed to not fail the drum part for La Roux's "Bulletproof." Puck only allowed Rachel to sing for "Don't Stop Believin'" if she agreed to sing the full playlist, and the tension in Blaine's chest dissipated a little as Kurt laughed along with everyone else as the petite brunette stumbled through a Beastie Boys number.

They were halfway through their fourth setlist when Mercedes plunked down beside Kurt, startling both boys. "So," she said, crossing her arms. "What's all this?"

"All of what?" Kurt inquired, cocking his head to the side.

She waved her hand in their direction. "This," she said. "The snuggling, the whispering, the longing looks…"

"We're not exchanging longing looks," Blaine said, looking at Kurt to back him up.

Kurt tilted his head back to look at him. "You are sort of pining," he said.

Mercedes' eyebrows shot up. "Wait, are you serious?" she said. "Are you guys…" She whipped around to glare at Kurt. "You kissed him, didn't you?"

"To be fair, he kissed me first," Kurt said.

A smug smile spread across her face. "Damn, boy," Mercedes grinned. "Good for you." She scooted closer. "Are you gonna tell me the details?"

"Uh," Blaine stammered. "Uh…well…"

"Blaine, are you going to take a turn singing?" David asked, turning the microphone around in his fingers. "I've never seen you turn down a solo before. Come on, it's Rush, it's your favorite."

Kurt smiled and patted Blaine's knee. "Go on and sing," he said. "I'll be fine. I owe Mercedes the whole story, anyway. Don't worry, I'll say nice things about you."

"Well, if you put it that way," Blaine said, sliding off the arm of the couch. Without thinking he bent and kissed Kurt lightly on the cheek.

"Aw, how cute," Mercedes grinned. Ears rapidly turning red, Blaine took the mic from David and focused on the television screen.

He was halfway through the setlist when he dared to look back at Kurt. Kurt was sitting close to Mercedes, his legs drawn over her knees, and he seemed to be in the middle of telling a story to her. His cheeks were flushed pink in his white face, and his eyes looked bright blue. Blaine smiled at the sight.

"Anderson! Stop making moony eyes at Kurt and sing!" Wes ordered.

"This isn't rehearsal! You can't boss me around!" Blaine protested, but he turned back around and launched into the song as his ears turned red again.

He finished out the setlist and retreated to the safety of the couch, although Mercedes didn't bother to make room for him, forcing him to settle for the arm once again. "Kurt told me everything," she said, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Don't worry, we have the best friend stamp of approval," Kurt said, waving his hand.

"For now," Mercedes warned. "You break his heart, I break your legs, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Blaine grinned. "And trust me, Kurt, the same goes for you. My sister can be very vicious."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Kurt said, grinning right back at him.

"Okay, y'all, if you don't stop making eyes at each other, I'm going to puke," Mercedes informed them.

Francey sauntered over to them and sat down on Blaine's knee. "Oh, god, Fran, get off me," Blaine groaned.

"So I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Francey said, cheerfully ignoring Blaine's efforts to push her off his lap. "Dinner should be here pretty soon. Are you hungry, Kurt?"

"I suppose," he said.

"Seriously, Frances, get off me," Blaine grunted, pushing at her hips.

She planted her feet more firmly on the ground and petted Kurt's hair. "Really, baby, how are you feeling?" she asked. "I'm not pre-med for nothing."

"I'm fine," he said, his lips pressing together.

Blaine shoved Francey off his lap, nearly pushing her into the coffee table. "Frances, you have got to lay off the cupcakes," he said.

"Well, Zachary, I would, but they are delicious," she said, sticking her nose in the air. "Now I'm going to sit by the door, so that when the bell rings I can steal all the Hawaiian pizza before you can get to it."

"Ha!" Blaine said. "I ordered the pizza, and you don't know which door I told them to come to."

Francey narrowed her gaze. "Well played, sir," she said. "Well played." She ruffled Blaine's curls and flounced back into the thick of the crowd.

Puck stood up, holding up the microphone. "Hey, Kurt, you want it?" he called.

Blaine felt Kurt stiffen. "No, thank you," he said quietly.

Puck raised an eyebrow and pushed through the crowd towards him. "You sure?" he said, thrusting the mic in Kurt's face. "Dude, we'll let you pick the whole setlist. Any songs you want."

"I appreciate it, Noah, but no, thank you," Kurt repeated, his voice softer still.

The look on Puck's face was almost pathetic in his earnestness. Kurt looked down, his shoulders slumping. Puck opened his mouth to say something, then clamped his lips together and walked away. Kurt let out a quiet, shuddering breath.

Blaine slid off the arm of the couch and pulled Kurt to his side. "Hey," he whispered, trying to coax Kurt into looking at him. He kissed him on the cheek. "Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Kurt shrugged, silent but clearly unhappy. Blaine stroked his fingertips lightly up and down Kurt's back, feeling the lumps of his spine through his thick cardigan. They sat together in silence, watching everyone else play.

The doorbell chimed noisily, cutting into Tina's rendition of "I'm So Sick" by Flyleaf. Sam perked up. "Oh, sweet, the pizza's here!" he said, dropping his bass and running for the front door.

Blaine started to get up, but Francey patted him on the top of the head as she walked by. "Don't worry, I've got this," she said. "Stay where you are."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Blaine said. Kurt smiled a little at that, his lips still thin and tense.

Sam and Puck helped Francey carry in the pizza boxes while the girls set out the paper plates and plastic cups. In the midst of the organized chaos, Blaine didn't notice Finn slip away until suddenly the lanky boy was sitting on the arm of the couch with several orange pill bottles concealed in his hand.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn said softly. "I know you hate it, but you've got to take 'em."

"Finn, I don't need you to babysit me," Kurt said, his voice clipped and tight.

Finn ignored him and handed the bottles to Blaine. "I'll get him something to drink," he said, and walked away.

Blaine stared at the printed labels. "I can take care of myself," Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"Kurt, no one's questioning your abilities," Blaine said. "Finn got you your medicine. He was just trying to be helpful."

"I think he's perfectly capable of being helpful without the superior attitude," Kurt snapped.

Blaine frowned. "Kurt," he said. "Are you going to feel better after you take your medication?"

"I don't see why that excuses Finn for acting like he can boss me around," Kurt retorted.

"It's going to make you feel better," Blaine said flatly. "Just forget about Finn, okay?"

Finn walked over with a red plastic cup full of water in his hand. Kurt took it silently and took the pills that Blaine handed him one at a time. He avoided eye contact with both of them, and when the cup was empty Finn took it back and walked away.

Kurt slid off the couch. "I'm going to get something to eat," he said.

Blaine buried his face in his hands and let out a frustrated sigh. I don't know what to do, he thought. I just don't know what to do.

He watched as the others shifted a little to make room for Kurt at the kitchen table, loaded heavily with pizza boxes, soda bottles, and various junk food snacks. Mercedes forced a plate into his hands and he carefully picked up two slices of pizza. He brushed past her, picked up a cup, and filled with diet soda before cautiously making his way back to the living room and sitting awkwardly on the floor by the fireplace.

Blaine felt a gentle hand on the back of his neck. "Everything all right?" Francey asked, handing him a plate with several slices of pizza. Blaine sat up and shrugged; she tugged affectionately on his curls before sitting down beside Kurt.

The swarm of teenagers spilled over the floor and the furniture, talking and laughing noisily in between bites of pizza. "Oh my god, we haven't had a party in forever," Tina said. She dropped her slice of pizza on her plate and waved her hands in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god, remember what we did last time?"

"You mean when Lauren prank-called Jacob Ben Israel?" Mike asked.

"No, no, when we played truth or dare!" Tina said. "Oh my god, we should so play." She scooted onto her knees without waiting for an answer. "Sam! Sam! Truth or dare?"

Sam paused, a slice of pizza inches from his mouth. "Uh…dare, I guess," he said.

Tina clapped her hands. "Okay, I dare you to…to…" She paused, scanning the room. "I dare you to let Lauren give you a makeover. And then keep the makeup on for the rest of game.

Sam shrugged, his mouth full of supreme pizza. "Mmkay," he mumbled.

"You don't even have a clue what you've gotten yourself into, do you, trouty mouth?" Lauren smirked.

Sam slowly lowered his slice of pizza. "Can…can I switch to truth?" he asked meekly.

"Too late for that, guppy baby," Santana smirked, handing her makeup bag to Lauren.

Ten minutes later, Sam was bedecked in thick mascara, rainbow stripes of eyeshadow, large doll-like circles of blush, and his lips were painted a fetching shade of scarlet. The tightness in Blaine's throat lessened a little as he watched Kurt hide his laughter in Mercedes' shoulder. "Wh-what is this?" Sam said, staring in dismay at his reflection in the mirror a snickering Quinn held up for him.

"The lip color? Wet 'n' Wild in Tiger Orgasm," Santana said. "It's at the Walgreens by school if you want to pick a tube up for yourself."

"Dude, you look like a fish hooker!" Puck laughed.

"Oh, man, I'm gonna pee!" Mike howled.

Sam pushed the mirror back into Quinn's hand. "Can we just call it quits on this game?" he begged.

"Nope," Tina said cheerfully. "Pick someone. Not me, though, no tagbacks."

Sam closed his eyes, making the others laugh as the rainbow eyeshadow stuck out more clearly, and picked at random. "You," he said, opening his eyes. "You…Blaine's sister or whatever."

"Francey," she reminded him.

"Yeah, well, Francey…truth or dare?" he asked.

"Let's go with truth," she said, lacing her fingers together and setting them on her knee.

Sam grinned. "What's the nerdiest thing you've ever done?" he asked.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Sam, you're still the biggest dork we have in glee," she said, a hint of affection belying her words. "You're not going to find anyone else who's nerdier than you."

Francey shrugged. "I'm pretty sure you already know the answer to this question, darling," she said.

Sam screwed up his face. "What?"

"Comic-Con. In 2009. You followed a girl cosplaying as Deanna Troi from Star Trek: Next Generation around the convention center for three hours until you finally got up the courage to ask to take your picture with her," Francey said.

Sam's mouth dropped open. "That was you?" he asked.

She grinned and held up her hand in a Vulcan salute. "Nobody can forget a mouth the size of yours," she said.

Artie laughed. "Oh, man, even when you try to find someone nerdier than you, you still lose," he said.

Sam leaned back against the fireplace and sulked. "Just move on to the next person so we can get this over with," he grumbled.

Francey tossed her long hair back over her shoulder. "I pick Kurt," she said. "Kurt, baby, truth or dare?"

He shrugged. "I'll go with truth, I guess," he said.

Francey smiled almost wickedly. "What's your most embarrassing childhood secret?" she asked.

Kurt shrugged again. "I don't know," he said. "I had a stuffed teddy bear when I was little. Does that count?"

"He slept with a pacifier until he was four," Finn offered.

Kurt whipped around, his ears turning red in embarrassment. "Finn!" he exclaimed.

"Are you serious?" Mercedes said. "That's adorable."

"It's not adorable, it's mortifying," Kurt said. He tugged on the hem of his shirt. "But it's fine, because you don't have any proof."

"Oh, I don't?" Finn asked. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his pictures. "Mom found a bunch of old pictures of you and your dad. I found this one."

He shoved the phone into Francey's hand; she immediately passed it off to Blaine. "See? Look how adorable your boyfriend is," she said.

Blaine looked down at the picture of a picture. Little Kurt, maybe three or four years old, was asleep in the middle of the living room floor, his hair ruffled and his tiny feet bare. A bright blue pacifier was tucked in his mouth. "He's cute," he said, glancing up to smile at Kurt.

Kurt ducked his head as Santana pulled the phone out of Blaine's hand to take a look. "My dad called it my mute button," he mumbled. "I don't see why you had to put in your phone, Finn Hudson."

Finn shrugged. "Your dad has pictures of you in his wallet and my mom has pictures of me," he said. "Seemed like it'd be fair if we kind of traded a couple." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Since, you know…we're brothers and stuff now."

Blaine watched Kurt's expression soften; the two brothers sort of smiled at each other while the rest of the group was distracted by Finn's phone getting passed around. He's not going to be mad at Finn for much longer, he thought. Now, if I could just get him to stop sulking at me…

Francey pinched Kurt's thin cheek. "Look at what a cute little rugrat you were," she cooed. "Precious. Just precious."

"Well, now that you've embarrassed me thoroughly, can we move on?" Kurt asked. Without waiting for a response he pointed to Puck. "Puckerman. Truth or dare?"

Puck glanced up. "Huh?"

"I'll take that as a dare," Kurt said. "I dare you to eat a spoonful of chili powder."

Much to Blaine's surprise, Puck obeyed, making everyone else laugh themselves to tears as he ate the spicy powder and immediately had to run to the refrigerator for milk. Puck got his revenge, though, when he demanded that a startled Wes should go flush his foot in the toilet. His protests were quelled only by a promise from Rachel that if he went through it, she would make sure that New Directions didn't do a Maroon 5 song for regionals, and he went through with the dare, hobbling back into the living room with one sock completely soaked. David pointed out through his hysterical laughter that he should have just taken the sock off; Wes retaliated by daring him to strip down to his boxers to whatever song came up first on his iPod. Much to his surprise, David gamely agreed, and did a nice routine to Aqua's "Barbie Girl" that had everyone in stitches.

"Oh, god, you have got to get that song off your iPod," David sighed, flopping down beside Blaine amidst the applause. "Your taste in music is awful."

"My taste in music is awesome," Wes sniffed. "Let's keep going. Pick somebody."

"Yeah, seriously, because I want to get this makeup off," Sam said. "Is…is lipstick supposed to burn like this?"

"Only the cheap stuff, baby," Lauren said.

David sighed. "Oh, I think Blaine needs a turn," he said. "Blaine, truth or dare?"

Blaine grinned. "The dares have been going pretty well so far, so let's go with a dare," he said.

David pulled his tee shirt back over his head. "I dare you…to sing something to Kurt," he said.

"Something sexy," Artie added.

"Yeah, make it sexy," Puck said. "I know there's some sex appeal in there somewhere, hobbit. Show us why Kurt picked you."

Blaine glanced over at Kurt, who had flushed beet red and covered his face with his hands. "Are you sure?" he ventured.

"Oh, go on, get it over with," Kurt said, his voice slightly muffled.

Mercedes dragged Kurt up to the couch beside Blaine. "Hold up, I gotta film this," she grinned.

Blaine looked at Kurt. Kurt dropped his hands and shrugged. "Finish your dare," he said.

He bit his lip. "Well, then," he said.

Kurt leaned back, arms folded across his thin chest, a smile that said just try to seduce me playing across his lips. Blaine cleared his throat. "Well, then," he said again, painfully aware of all the eyes boring into him.

He folded his hands on his knees. "Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know that something wasn't right here?" he started.

Sam wolf-whistled. "Britney Spears, I approve," Lauren said.

He turned towards Kurt. "Oh baby, baby, I shouldn't have let you go, and now you're out of sight, yeah," he sang.

Kurt's smile was a little like a smirk at this point, one finely sculpted brow arching skeptically. Blaine scooted onto his knees. "Show me how you want it to be, tell me, baby, 'cause I need to know, now, oh, because," he sang, rising over Kurt, who blinked in mild interest. "My loneliness is killing me and I, I must confess I still believe."

"Still believe," Wes and David chimed in, harmonizing perfectly.

Blaine grinned and leaned over Kurt, gently pushing him back against the arm of the couch. "When I'm not with you, I lose my mind," he crooned. "Give me a sign…hit me, baby, one more time."

"Lap dance! Lap dance!" Tina called.

Blaine grinned. "Lap dance, lap dance!" Brittany chanted, clapping her hands.

"I wanna see some hip rolls, hobbit," Santana commanded.

Kurt's head shot up. "Wait, you wouldn't-"

With one smooth motion Blaine swung his leg over Kurt's knees. "Oh baby, baby, the reason I breathe is you," he sang. "Boy, you've got me blinded."

Mercedes clapped her hands as Kurt covered his eyes, the tips of his ears turning red. Blaine sidled closer. "Oh baby, baby, I shouldn't have let you go," he cooed in Kurt's ear, crooking a finger under his palm and tugging his hand away. He leaned back, raising his arms as the small crowd hollered their approval. "And I must confess that my loneliness is killing me now. Don't you know I still believe that you would be here? Give me a sign…hit me, baby, one more time."

Kurt peeked at him through his fingers, a shy smile creeping across his face. Blaine grinned as he sang through the chorus one more time, sliding his hands on Kurt's thin waist. Their friends broke into wild applause as Blaine leaned in and pecked Kurt on the cheek. "So do you like me again now?" he whispered.

Kurt sighed and patted the seat beside him. Blaine grinned and immediately plunked down, slinging an arm around Kurt's shoulders.

"All right, all right, enough of that," Francey said, waving her hand. "Let's keep it PG, children." She threw a couch pillow in her brother's face. "Blaine, it's your turn, pick somebody."

Blaine pulled Kurt a little closer. "Okay, okay," he said. "I pick…Sam."

"I've already gone, remember?" Sam said, pointing to his wildly made-up face.

"Oh, that's right," Blaine said. "Fine. I pick…Finn. Finn, truth or dare?"

"Let's go with truth," Finn said, stretching out his long legs as Rachel nestled into his side. "The dares are kinda scaring me right now."

"All right, then," Blaine said. "Then…if you had to date any of the guys in your glee club, who would you pick?"

"I don't know," Finn mused. "I mean…Puck and I are best friends, so that couldn't be that weird…"

Puck spewed a mouthful of Mountain Dew across the room. "No, dude, it would be weird," he said.

"Mike seems like a pretty good boyfriend, so, you know, maybe-"

"Homewrecker," Tina accused.

"What? I'm just answering the question," Finn protested.

"It's a weird question," Francey said. Blaine shrugged. "Okay, I'm bored with this game. I vote for a movie. And pajamas."

"Does this mean I can wash the crap off of my face?" Sam asked eagerly.

Quinn waved her hand. "Go, go, do it now," she said. Sam bolted.

Blaine leaned close to Kurt as the others moved towards their duffel bags and backpacks. "I'm only asking this because I want to be nice," he warned. "Do you want me to get your things?"

Kurt patted his knee. "I'll be fine," he said, pushing himself off the couch. "Thank you for asking, though."

Blaine let him limp out of the room without stopping him or attempting to help. He knew, probably better than anyone, how proud Kurt was. Kurt doesn't need a babysitter, Kurt doesn't need a babysitter, he told himself sternly as he trooped upstairs and changed into his Dalton Warblers tee shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

He headed back down to find everyone else sprawled around the living room, taking up all the available furniture and most of the floor space. Carefully he sidestepped Brittany and Mercedes and made his way back to the vacant couch as his sister argued with Puck and Finn over the movie choices.

"No. There is no way in hell that I'm watching a chick flick," Puck said, pushing the DVD back into Francey's hand. "No way. Get it away from me."

"He's right," Finn admitted. "Dirty Dancing is kind of a chick flick."

"Fine," Francey huffed. "Then we're watching Anchorman. And there's nothing you can say that can make me change my mind."

Puck shrugged. "Fine by me," he said.

Blaine settled on the couch, glancing every few seconds towards the hall every few seconds as the others settled into their sleeping bags and blankets between their friends and significant others. Francey hopped over a sprawled-out Mike and flipped off the overhead lights, leaving the lamps on to shed some light. "Be good, you guys," she warned.

"We will, will," Mercedes said, waving her hand dismissively.

Blaine rested his chin in his hand as the DVD remote popped up and Francey hit play. Should I go look for him? he wondered. I hope he's okay. What if he's not okay?

The couch cushions beside him shifted; he glanced up to see Kurt scooting in beside him. "Hi," he whispered, turning to make room.

"Hi yourself," Kurt whispered back. He wore a long sleeved tee shirt and a pair of thick sweatpants; Blaine drew him to his side as he scooted closer. "Now sh. Don't talk during the movie."

Blaine dropped his forehead to the top of Kurt's head and grinned, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. There was just something so comforting about having Kurt's warm body pressed up against him. He had never realized that he could feel this content, just like this.

Kurt leaned back against him, his back flush to Blaine's side as Blaine wrapped his arm around his stomach. Blaine stroked his thumb lightly at the soft smooth spot in the middle of Kurt's ribcage in a steady, soothing rhythm.

They had just reached the riot scene (with Tina and most of the guys quoting the dialogue loudly) when Kurt shivered. "What's wrong?" Blaine whispered in his ear. "Are you cold?" Kurt shrugged. Blaine leaned around him and picked up the throw blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it awkwardly over Kurt's long legs. Kurt visibly relaxed, smoothing the blanket up to his shoulders and burying himself deeper against Blaine's side. Blaine leaned closer and kissed the side of Kurt's neck.

The movie was nearly over when Francey launched herself off the armchair and paused the DVD. "What gives, girl, we were almost done!" Artie demanded.

Francey fumbled with the remote. "Dumbass, it's almost midnight," she retorted. "We have to watch the ball drop. We have to watch the ball drop!"

"Fine, fine, we'll watch the ball drop, keep your panties on," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

Francey ignored her and flipped over to the New Year's Eve show. Blaine sat up a little, pulling Kurt closer. "Hey," he whispered in Kurt's ear. "Do you want to kiss at midnight?"

Kurt twisted around to look at him. "Are you insane?" he whispered back.

"I was just-" Blaine stammered.

Kurt smiled and shook his head. "Of course I want to kiss you at midnight," he said.

Blaine relaxed, keeping his arm tight around Kurt's waist. "Well, then, sir," he grinned. "Prepare yourself."

"Oh, hold up, the ball's about to drop," Tina said, sliding forward in her seat. "Ten…nine…eight…"

Kurt leaned closer to Blaine, touching the tips of their noses lightly. "Love you," he whispered.


"Love you too," Blaine whispered back, smiling so broadly it nearly hurt.


Kurt closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips as he pursed them slightly. Blaine could feel his warm breath against his cheek.

"…one! Happy New Year!"

Blaine touched his lips to Kurt's, drawing him into a soft warm kiss. Kurt kissed him back as his hands slid up to rest against Blaine's chest. "Happy New Year," Blaine whispered into his mouth.

"Oh, shit, everyone stop!" Francey exclaimed. "Shit, I don't have anyone to kiss on New Year's! Shit! I'm going to have bad luck all year now! Shit! Someone kiss me!"

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Calm your tits, girl, I didn't kiss anyone and you don't see me flipping out," she said.

"It's midnight, somebody kiss me!" Francey demanded, flailing her hands. Kurt sighed and beckoned to her. "What? What do you want?"

Kurt leaned over and pecked her on the lips. "There. Now will you shut up?" he said, exasperated.

"Yes, thank you," Francey said, satisfied. She leaned over and kissed him on the nose. "All right, now that you've saved me from a year of bad luck, you may resume snuggling with your boyfriend."

Blaine started. Beside him, he felt Kurt freeze.


Were they…were they really boyfriends?

Oh, god. He had a boyfriend.


He had spent most of his teenage years waiting for some elusive significant other to waltz into his life. Usually in his daydreams it meant some tall, vague, faceless stranger. But now…

Kurt was his boyfriend.

He started to reach for Kurt, to draw him back to him, to hold onto him tightly and make sure that he wasn't dreaming, he wasn't going to slip away, but just as his fingers reached out to brush his sleeve, Finn stood up and held out his hand. "Hey, Kurt, you know the deal," he said. "Mom and Burt said you could come as long as you went to bad at midnight and got some actual sleep."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but his expression clearly stated I would be bitchy, but that requires too much energy. "Fine," he sighed, taking Finn's hand and struggling to his feet. Blaine closed his fingers and dropped his hand to his lap. "Blaine, would it be okay if I slept in your room? It'll be quieter."

"Oh," Blaine said. "Yeah. Sure." He shook his head. "Yeah, definitely."

Kurt stood up and let go of Finn's hand, offering a beauty queen wave. "It's been a pleasure welcoming the New Year with you, but I'm afraid my beauty sleeps trumps staying up till the wee hours," he said.

Mercedes threw a kernel of popcorn at him. "You always do this," she accused. "Every time we have a sleepover, you always conk out first."

Kurt shrugged. "How else am I supposed to maintain my flawless complexion?" he asked. He crouched down to kiss her on the cheek, bracing himself on the arm of the couch. "Night, Mercedes."

"Night, Kurt," Puck said, offering a dismissive wave. "Hey, Blaine's sister, turn the movie back on. We're at the good part."

The others called out their goodnights as Kurt waved back and turned to walk stiffly down the hall. Blaine watched him go, his thoughts miles away from the movie as the others turned their attention back to the television.

They had finished Anchorman and moved on to Dirty Dancing (after the girls voted down The Legend of Ricky Bobby, Blades of Glory, and The Hangover) when the thought finally popped into his head.

I should go up and check on him.

The thought danced around his head, taunting him while the others enjoyed the movie. All he could think about was creeping up to his room, cracking the door open, and peeking inside. Kurt would be fast asleep, snuggled under layers of blankets, peaceful and quiet, breathing slow and deep. Maybe he could even sneak inside and sit beside him, maybe even stroke his hair back from his forehead and admire how incredibly beautiful his boyfriend was.

If they were boyfriends.

And with his luck, Kurt would wake up and be totally creeped out.

But the thought wouldn't leave him alone, and around the time that Baby and Johnny Castle were driving off to perform at that club, he tiptoed out of the living room before he could talk himself out of it. From long habit he skipped the creaky step at the bottom of the stairs and made his way up to his room, his heart beating a little quicker than it ought.

He carefully tapped his bedroom door open, expecting to find Kurt fast asleep in the dark, but instead he stumbled into a warm circle of light cast from his bedside lamp. "Oh," he said stupidly. "Hi. Sorry."

Kurt glanced up, his reading glasses sliding down his nose. "I couldn't sleep," he confessed. He bit his lip. "I…don't really sleep well alone. Or in strange beds."

Blaine smiled and slipped into the room. "What are you reading?" he asked.

Kurt marked his page with his finger and held it up so Blaine could see the cover. "You have a copy of Wizard of Oz," he said. "I couldn't say no."

Blaine slid his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. "Let me guess," he smiled. "It's your favorite childhood book. Your parents used to read it to you every night before bed. You used to run around the house clicking your heels together."

"Actually, I didn't like the Wizard of Oz when I was little. Flying monkeys. Gave me nightmares," Kurt said, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "Peter Pan was my personal favorite bedtime story."

"Always an excellent choice," Blaine said, sidling up to the side of the bed. "May I?"

Kurt set the book aside and scooted over to make room for Blaine, holding up the blankets. Blaine slid in beside him. "So was the Wizard of Oz your favorite book?" he inquired. "Your copy looks quite well loved."

"Oh, I liked that one all right," Blaine said, folding his arms. "I usually preferred one of the Narnia books, though, to be honest."

Kurt smiled, then ducked his head, twisting his fingertips together in his lap. "Hey," he said softly.

Blaine lightly nudged his shoulder. "Hey what?" he asked.

Kurt stared down at his knees. "What are we?" he asked.

Blaine turned around to face him. "Wh…what do you mean?" he asked.

"You know," Kurt said, shrugging "Are we…are we dating, or just seeing each other or…or…"

"Whoa," Blaine said. He slid his hand over Kurt's forearm. "Whoa. Okay. Well, what do you think is going on? Because so far…we've kissed. We've said the 'l' word. And we said it before we did anything else, I might add."

Kurt's fingers crept up to tangle in Blaine's. "Do you think…we could be boyfriends?" he ventured.

Blaine squeezed his fingers back. "I would love to be your boyfriend," he said.

Kurt glanced back at him, his lips lifting into a smile. "Oh," he said. "Oh. Well, then." He nestled closer. "Hello, boyfriend."

"Hello, yourself," Blaine grinned, leaning in to kiss Kurt. He squeezed Kurt's- his boyfriend's- hand while they kissed, until Kurt suddenly yawned right into his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry," Kurt apologized, leaning back and covering his lips. "Sorry."

Blaine laughed. "Don't apologize," he said, chucking Kurt lightly under the chin. "You're tired. You should sleep."

Kurt leaned over and rested his chin on Blaine's shoulder, looking at him under his lashes. "Stay with me till I fall asleep?" he asked.

Blaine kissed the tip of his nose. "Of course," he said. "Lie down."

He leaned over and switched the lamp off as Kurt carefully eased himself down to the bed. "I hate lying on my back," Kurt grumbled. "It's just not comfortable." He shifted slightly as he tugged off his reading glasses and dropped them on the nightstand. "I'm never breaking my ribs again."

"Yeah, it would be nice if you could avoid that," Blaine grinned. He laid down on his back beside Kurt, reaching down to take him by the hand, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight, babe."

Kurt smiled, his eyes catching pale blue in the faint moonlight through the blinds. "'Night," he said sleepily, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he closed his eyes.

Blaine rubbed his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand, debating mentally over whether or not he could coerce him into some sleepy kisses, until he heard the soft sound of Kurt snoring lightly. He glanced over to see Kurt drooping to the side of his pillow, his mouth open, and smiled.

"I love you," he murmured, scooting over to kiss Kurt softly on the cheek. His only answer was Kurt's deep, steady breathing.

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to faint sunlight filtering through the blinds and a warm, heavy weight resting across his chest. He stifled a yawn and glanced down at Kurt, sprawled out against him with one arm splayed out. Blaine shifted slightly, easing Kurt back down to the mattress without rousing him.

Kurt slept deeply, his chest rising and falling steadily in soft shallow breaths. Blaine propped himself up on his elbow and smiled sleepily down at him, memorizing all the little things that made up his boyfriend- the faint freckles on his cheeks and nose, the thickness of his lashes, the way his lips parted as he breathed, his soft hair falling across his forehead. He smiled, trailing one fingertip lightly down the slope of Kurt's nose and the fullness of his bottom lip and the strong line of his jaw.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

Kurt scrunched up his face a little bit in his sleep, as if Blaine's fingertip tickled him; Blaine laughed silently before bending over him to kiss his forehead.

He paused. For some reason he could smell breakfast, and that didn't bode well. That meant that Francey had decided to try her hand at cooking, and he knew from experience that that would never end well.

Gingerly he eased out of the bed, trying not to jostle Kurt too much. Luckily his boyfriend still slept soundly, only sighing faintly as Blaine's warmth left his side. Blaine leaned over him and tucked the blankets around him snugly before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He tiptoed down the stairs to find the boys of New Directions, as well as Wes and David, sprawled across the living room in sleeping bags and blankets, several of them snoring loudly. Cautiously he crept past them into the kitchen.

He found Quinn standing by the stove, barefoot and dressed in an oversized Star Wars tee shirt paired with red cheerleading shorts, her hair drawn up in an elegantly messy ponytail. "Hey," he said, his voice still slightly creaky from sleep.

"Morning," she said, crossing from the stove to the counter. "Sleep well?"

"I did," he said. He eyed the countertop- the full mixing bowl, the package of bacon, the half-diced fruit, the carton of eggs. "Did you just feel like making breakfast?"

"I don't sleep much, and your sister said she didn't mind if I took over the kitchen," she said. "Since you're up, do you mind chopping the fruit?"

"Not at all," he said, picking up the knife as she poured buttermilk into the bowl. They worked in companionable silence for a moment, as he diced fruit into a glass bowl and she pressed out biscuits.

"So," she said at last. "You and Kurt. Are you dating?"

He took a deep breath. "Yes," he said. "I am Kurt's boyfriend."

She dropped a small circle of biscuit dough on the cookie sheet and brushed off her floury hands over the sink. "Are you sure about this?" she asked.

"About being his boyfriend?" he said. "Yes. Yes, of course I am."

She slid the cookie sheet into the oven and twirled the dial. "So you really think that, right now, it's in Kurt's best interests for him to have a boyfriend?" she asked.

"He seems to think so," Blaine said. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he sliced strawberries.

"That's because Kurt has always wanted a boyfriend," Quinn said, dropping the mixing bowl in the sink and rinsing it out. "And he's been in love with you for months. Of course he would agree to date you."

Blaine mentally filed the he's been in love with you for months for a later date and brushed a stray curl off his forehead with the back of his hand. "You know, he asked me to be his boyfriend," he said. "I was the one who said yes."

Quinn crossed over to him and pushed a carton of grapes towards him. "Dice these," she said. She sighed. "Look, I don't think you understand what a big deal this is. Kurt was ours before he was yours. We're a bit…protective of him. Especially now. Everyone can tell he's still bad off, even if he tries to pretend otherwise."

"I can understand Finn and Mercedes being protective of him," Blaine said. "Why you?"

Quinn turned her attention to the carton of eggs and began to crack them into a glass bowl, slow and methodical. "I got pregnant last year," she said bluntly. "It was…an accident, and a huge mistake, but I didn't…I didn't want to just…" She took a deep breath. Blaine kept his eyes down on the fruit he was slicing. "The whole school found out. And the glee club…the glee club, they were all supportive, but my parents…weren't. They kicked me out of the house."

She threw a broken eggshell into the garbage disposal; it shattered viciously. Blaine braced himself against the counter. "The first day I went to school after that…everyone knew. Everyone kept staring at me, judging me, pitying me," she said, her voice tight. "It was between classes, and I had gone into the bathroom because of the morning sickness…oh, god, the morning sickness…and I was sitting on the floor, feeling more miserable than I ever had in my life, and Kurt…Kurt walks in, and sits on the edge of the sinks, and all he says was 'my mom was your age when she had me'."

Blaine glanced at her over his shoulder. She stirred the eggs with a whisk, her head down. "He stayed by me the whole time I was pregnant," she said. "And at the end of the summer, when I lost all my baby weight, he took me shopping in celebration. We walked all over the mall. And then…this woman walks by. With a stroller. And she had…she had the most adorable little girl. Golden hair, and brown eyes, and a smile that just…"

Blaine set the knife down quietly. Quinn stood in front of the stove, eyes closed, her fingertips pressed to the bridge of her nose. "I lost it," she confessed quietly. "I started sobbing. And Kurt…took me by the hand, and dragged me into a dressing room, and I bawled on his shoulder." She swiped at her eyes quickly and picked up the whisk. "See, that's why we're protective of Kurt. He's the sort of person that will hold you while you cry in the middle of a Forever 21 and never say a word to judge you. And that sort of person needs to be protected."

Blaine swallowed hard, attempting to come up with a response that would come even slightly close to Quinn's confession. "I know," he said lamely. "Kurt is…is so special. I can't even describe him."

"He didn't deserve any of this, you know," she said, dumping the egg mixture into a large skillet. "This should have happened to someone else. Anyone else. He's gone through enough already."

"I know," Blaine said again. "And it's not over." His chest tightened, that same familiar lump rising in his throat, his heartbeat picking up and racing. He felt like this every time he felt compelled to explain his own story to someone else. "He's got more to go through. There's…there's the physical stuff, his body trying to heal from his injuries. And going through therapy, and having to relive that same damn night over and over again while a sympathetic doctor stares and hands him tissues. And learning to not jump at loud noises, or panic when someone moves too quickly." He took a deep breath, remembering Kurt gazing at him the night before, looking small and young under the blankets. "Or learning that he'll be okay if he sleeps alone."

He picked up a handful of green grapes and dumped them into a glass bowl, then turned to catch Quinn eyeing him carefully. "I know a little bit about what Kurt's going through," he said.

She didn't press him for details. Instead, she crossed to his side of the counter and picked up the empty carton. "Then you'll take care of him," she said softly. He nodded. She squeezed his forearm.

Francey padded into the kitchen, long curls in wild disarray as she surveyed them through half-lidded eyes. "Morning, children," she said. "Mm. Breakfast." She threw her arms around Blaine's neck from behind. "Coffee. Where's coffee?"

"You're a big girl, make it yourself," he grinned.

She pushed herself away and spanked him lightly. "Bitch," she yawned, fumbling in the cabinets for the can of Foldgers. "So. Breakfast soon?"

"It's just about ready," Quinn said with a smile, peeking into the oven to check on the biscuits. "I think I made enough for everyone."

"Eh, if there's not enough, we can eat pop tarts," Francey said. She glanced back towards the living room. "And now, as the scent of bacon wafts through the house, the boys are beginning to wake."

Sure enough, Mike and Sam stumbled into the kitchen. "Breakfast," Mike mumbled, plunking down on a barstool. "Oh god. So hungry."

Sam draped himself over Quinn. "You cook things," he said. "I'm keeping you."

She swatted at his hands, clasped over her waist. "Step back or you'll get burned," she warned.

"You're wearing my shirt," he singsonged, nibbling at her shoulder. "You're wearing my shi-irt."

"Ah, young love," Francey grinned as she dumped coffee grounds into the filter. "So, Blaine, when can I expect you to start coming home in Kurt's clothing?"

Blaine grabbed the canister from his sister. "Too much, too much, too much," he scolded, scooping some of the coffee out of the filter and back in the can. "You're making coffee, not paint thinner." He sealed the lid and stuck it back in the cabinet. "And I don't know the answer to that question. But I should probably go up and see if he's awake enough to eat something."

"Oh, god, she made biscuits," Mike murmured, his head resting on his arms as one hand reached out ineffectively for the hot cookie sheet Quinn was pulling out of the oven.

"If you wanted to find Kurt, I'm way ahead of you," Puck grinned, strolling into the kitchen.

"Whas gon' on?" Kurt mumbled.

"I think Noah carried you piggyback down the stairs," Francey informed him.

Kurt frowned. His arms were draped around Puck's neck and his cheek was pressed against his broad shoulder. "Oh," he said.

"I figured somebody should probably get him," Puck said, looking immensely pleased with himself. "But seriously, dude, you should probably get down. You're all skinny and stuff, but your legs are way too long."

Blaine set down the knife and walked over, wiping his hands on his pajama pants. "I've got him," he said, holding out his arms. Puck slid Kurt carefully to the floor; the shorter brunet wavered a little and blinked sleepily. Blaine tucked an arm around his waist. "Come on. Let's get you back to the couch."

Kurt sagged into him as Blaine walked him into the living room and made him sit down. "Mmph. Sleepy," Kurt complained.

Blaine grinned and curled up next to him, tugging Kurt closer so he was lying between his legs. "And you get crabby when you're tired, don't you?" he said.

"Not a morning person," Kurt protested.

"Yeah, I can tell," Blaine said, pulling the blanket back over both of them. He kissed the top of Kurt's head. "Good morning, boyfriend."

Kurt looked up and smiled sleepily. "Morning, boyfriend," he echoed. "I'd kiss you, but I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"That's okay," Blaine said, dropping light kisses over his cheek. Kurt curled into him, warm and cuddly and sleepy, and closed his eyes. Blaine ran his hand up and down his back, content to listen to Finn snoring across the room and feel the rise and fall of Kurt's breathing.

Quinn poked her head into the living room. "Breakfast is ready," she said. "Kurt, do you want me to get you some?"

"Mmkay," Kurt said, burrowing deeper into Blaine's chest, mostly asleep already.

Blane smoothed Kurt's hair and looked up to see Quinn sort of smiling at him. Their eyes met. She nodded, and disappeared from the room.

Author's Notes:


I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. Saying things have been crazy lately would be an understatement, and on top of that, my writing muse could not be harnessed properly for KGI purposes. Plus, this chapter is just...oddly formatted. But it is here, and I hope you like it!

I'm pretty sure I want to go back and edit the first half of the story so that Blaine's parents are Hal and Bev, the exquisite original characters created by Gilly, aka aspiringtoeloquence, but I don't know. I'm just not sure. Any ideas?

I'm going to write a oneshot about Kurt and Quinn.

And also, I am now craving biscuits.