A/N: This is a companion piece to one of my other fics, Breathe. If you really wanted to, you could probably read this without having read Breathe first, but in my mind it makes more sense to do so.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to RIB and Fox.

Home

"Checking your phone again, Blaine?" Wes asks, startling Blaine slightly. "You flew all of the way out here to attend my wedding, yet you might as well be back in New York." His eyes are warm and teasing, overshadowing the annoyed tone threaded into his voice.

"Sorry." He smiles guiltily. "Kurt," he offers, holding his phone up in means of an explanation before hiding it away in his pocket. "He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry he couldn't be here."

"I know and I'm sorry, too," Wes says and pats Blaine on the shoulder, smiling sadly. But it is only a moment later that his sadness fades away into one of the biggest grins that Blaine has ever seen upon Wes's face. "But you're here!" Wes gives Blaine's shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand and walking away. Blaine can see the excitement threaded through his entire form, in each step that he takes. But Blaine can't blame him. An hour from now he will be a married man, and Blaine remembers his own wedding day clearer than any other memory, his friends and his family, the laughter and the tears, but above everything he remembers Kurt and the look in his eyes as he spoke the two little words that Blaine had waited so long to hear him say.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he distractedly pulls it out and checks the message, laughing as soon as his eyes skim across the text.

Well of course it's going to be nice, this is Wes. But it cannot be better than our wedding.

He smiles fondly down at his phone, typing out a quick reply: Not possible.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and, because Wes is entirely right, he makes his way into the waiting crowd, searching for familiar faces.

. . .

I was right, you know? he texts Kurt later that night.

Kurt's reply comes a minute later: About what?

Wes's wedding was beautiful, but it didn't compare. Not even close.

Blaine sits down on the edge of his hotel room bed, untying his shoes before lying back fully clothed on top of the covers. His phone vibrates at his side and he picks it back up.

Of course it didn't. You're coming home tomorrow?

That's the plan, he quickly replies before his eyes close of their own accord.

He is on the edge of sleep when his phone vibrates again and he grabs at it clumsily, forcing his heavy eyelids to open. A single word is waiting for him on the screen of his phone: Good.

Blaine grins. I'm exhausted. I will call you in the morning. I love you.

When Blaine's phone signals a reply he has already fallen asleep.

. . .

"So you're not coming home tonight?" Kurt asks him, and Blaine can hear something in his voice, something he's trying to hide.

Blaine presses his phone even closer to his ear, briefly glancing over his shoulder as he changes lanes, driving toward his parent's house instead of the airport like was planned.

"My mother found out I was in town – probably heard it from Wes' mom – and you know how she is, practically begged me to come visit for a few days. And since I have the week off of work anyway…I should have talked to you first. I can call her back—"

"Blaine, no," Kurt cuts in. "It's alright." There is still that secretive edge to Kurt's voice, the familiar mixed with the unknown and Blaine just can't decipher it.

"What is it?" he asks.

"What is what?" Kurt asks him, confusion mingling with his tone.

"What is wrong?"

"Noth—" Kurt tries, but Blaine is not about to let him get away with it. He is not about to go along with Kurt's flimsy dismissal and hang up, when something is so clearly wrong – especially not when he is so far away, unable to physically do anything about it.

"Kurt." Blaine tries to convey everything he is feeling in that one word, into his name: all of his concern, all of his longing to be beside his husband in this moment, to be able to look directly into his eyes and just know what Kurt is feeling.

"I just…" Kurt begins, but stops, and Blaine waits, letting Kurt work the words out on his own. "I miss you. These have been the longest two days of my life." Kurt chuckles softly and the sound of it is enough to ease some of the tension between them, to allow Blaine to loosen the grip on the steering that, without his knowledge, had turned his knuckles white.

Blaine smiles slightly. "I know the feeling. Honestly, I think Wes was glad to see me go." Kurt laughs again, fuller, livelier. Blaine is silent for a moment, his thoughts racing, torn. He misses his parents, it has been months since he has seen them last, and hell, he should probably stop and visit Burt and Carole.

Visiting both of them would be the rational action.

But he doesn't feel rational. He doesn't feel anything but the need to turn the car around, to head straight toward the airport and back to Kurt. Because normally he can act his age, can act like an adult, but with Kurt he will always be his impulsive seventeen year old self, the boy who kissed his best friend without a second thought.

"That's it," he says, looking for somewhere to pull off the road and turn around. "I am coming home right now."

"No, you're not," Kurt says, and there is amusement in his voice, like he was listening to Blaine's every thought leading up to his decision, and really, Blaine thinks, he might as well have been. "You are going to keep driving and visit your parents, and then you are going to go to Lima and visit mine."

"Kurt—"

"I talked to Carole earlier, mentioned you were in Ohio. She wanted you to visit if you could, and since you're going to be there longer than planned – and I know you miss them as much as I do – you should visit them while you're there…and then catch the first flight that you can and get your ass back here." Kurt adds the last as almost an afterthought and Blaine can hear the smile in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Blaine says trying to keep a straight face even though Kurt isn't there to see him crack.

They are silent for a moment – a comfortable silence even over the phone – listening to the sound of the other's steady breathing before Kurt lets out a sigh. "I love you," he says. "Call me tonight?"

"Of course," Blaine agrees. "Love you, too." And with that he hangs up the phone.

. . .

It had been three days since Wes's wedding and Blaine was still in Ohio, in Lima to be exact, sitting on the living room couch of Burt and Carole Hummel.

"Go home, Blaine," Burt says, and Blaine glances up at him, startled.

"What?"

"What have I been talking about for the last ten minutes?" Burt asks and Blaine opens him mouth to answer, but his mind is completely blank, and suddenly he realizes he has no idea of what Burt had been talking about.

"I thought so," Burt says, his lips pulling up at the corners. "You want to go home. It's written all over your face."

Blaine looks away, uncomfortable. "It's not that I don't want to be here, I do. It's just…"

"You miss him," Burt finishes for him.

"So much," Blaine breathes, looking back at Burt.

"You know I love you like my own son Blaine, but I want you to go home," Burt says again, giving him a slight, affectionate smile.

. . .

"You're coming home tonight?" Kurt asks casually and Blaine can tell that he is holding back.

"Hopefully," Blaine says, rolling his suitcase along behind him as he makes his way through the airport. "But a couple of flights out have already been canceled."

"Of course they have. You are finally on your way home and then the damn weather has to go and get in your way," Kurt says and Blaine can picture him in his mind, standing in their apartment, huffing like a kitten with its fur standing on end.

Blaine laughs softly. "I love you. I have to go; I need to find out what is going on with this flight," Blaine says as he reaches the ticket counter.

He hangs up, stuffing his phone inside of his pocket and walks up to the woman behind the counter.

. . .

Turbulence. There are very few things that Blaine hates more than turbulence. The unruly shuddering, continuing on and on, a mere sixty seconds turning from one minute into another and yet another, seemingly unending.

His eyes slip closed, his fingers unconsciously tightening their hold upon the arm rest of his seat. He's thirty thousand feet above the ground, but he lets his mind drift away from his body, forgetting the present, his thoughts in far more pleasant of places.

Within his mind he can trace the curve of Kurt's cheek, the outline of his lips. His memories are as clear as the world behind his closed eyelids. His heart clenches tightly at just the thought of his Kurt. The closer he gets to him, the more seconds, minutes, hours that tick away until the moment that he can finally open his eyes and see again, see Kurt real and solid in front of him, the tighter his heart clenches, the faster the blood pumps through his veins.

He'd been able to keep the feelings at bay – or at least he had tried, but really he hadn't fooled anyone. His body had been in Ohio but his mind and heart had never left New York, and now, after days away, the pieces were about to be reunited, reassembled into a whole.

The turbulence ceases without Blaine's knowledge, and a sliver of his attention is devoted to the steady decline of the aircraft around him, but the rest is immersed in every thought, every memory that is Kurt – and he couldn't fight it if he tried.

He exits the plane, he retrieves his luggage, he's running solely on instinct, on a pull that reaches down to his very bones, urging him closer and closer to the one place that he is supposed to be.

He steps from the cab, to his apartment building, an excited, edging on nervous, thrill running through his very veins, a feeling that only Kurt has ever been able to inspire within him. As he unlocks the door of their apartment, he feels like a teenager all over again, when everything was new and mere hours felt like a lifetime, and he doesn't think he will ever get tired of this feeling.

The door swings open to silence. Blaine expects to hear Kurt within the walls, a soft hum as he makes his way through their apartment reorganizing each immaculate surface, the gracefully melody of his footsteps as he walks into the room at Blaine's appearance. But there is nothing.

Blaine steps forward quietly and catches sight of their living room couch. His legs refuse to move any farther, holding him in his place as he takes in the sight that meets his eyes. Kurt is lying on the couch, curled onto his side, knees bent. Blaine can see the tension all along his form; can see the strain of his knuckles against his delicate skin as his fingers clench in a tight fist.

In an instant Blaine's entire body unfreezes, it melts right along with his heart, and he walks forward, reaching a hand down to brush away the hair that has fallen over Kurt's closed eyes, his fingers tracing the lightest of patterns down Kurt's cheek and to his jaw. Kurt sighs softly at the touch.

Blaine pulls his hand away and as quietly as he can, retrieves his suitcase from where he left it by the door and takes it into their bedroom, sitting it off to the side before kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket. He pulls back the covers of their bed and walks back to Kurt.

Kurt has shifted slightly, his fingers relaxed, and Blaine steps forward, wrapping his arms underneath Kurt, lifting him to his chest. Kurt mumbles something unintelligible as Blaine takes a step forward, his eyelids fluttering, and as he looks down at his husband snuggled within the tight grip of his arms, he can feel all of the pent up tension that had taken him over from the moment he first left Kurt's side slipping away right along with the tension in Kurt's own body. It is in that very moment that he is able to take a deep breath and relax because he is finally home.

A/N: I had more trouble writing this than I thought I would, so I would really love a review to know what you thought, good or bad. I appologize for any mistakes, it is really late but I wanted to get this posted before I went to bed.