Fandom/Pairing: "Glee"/Klaine

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

Summary: Loosely based on the song "California King Bed" by Rihanna. Klaingst. Set nine years from now – Kurt and Blaine are married. Bring tissues (?).

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It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Fuck – it was never supposed to be this way.

It was never supposed to reach this point; the point where Kurt can't even look at Blaine anymore. The point where Blaine comes home drunk at two a.m. and tells his exhausted husband that "nothing fucking happened."

The point where Kurt doesn't… know him anymore.

The point where it feels like every single gorgeous thing that he and Blaine ever where was slipping through his fingers – and he couldn't do a thing to stop it.

"Goddammit, Kurt – why are you acting like this?" Blaine had flung at him earlier, his voice like a thousand knives. "What the fuck did I do wrong this time?"

Kurt had scoffed, "Oh don't even try to deny it. I fucking saw you! Blaine, you were… You were kissing him, and –,"

"You're so pathetic – you know that? You don't get it, you never have and you never will, because you're nothing. You think that… the fucking planet is made up of good and bad people – but it's not that simple, Kurt. It's just not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Blaine had rolled his eyes, "The only reason that I get home late every night is because –,"

"Because you're out fucking any guy you can find – I know that, Blaine."

"Yeah," he'd nodded, shrugging his shoulders, "You're right. You're absolutely right. And you want to know why I do that? Because you don't give me anything anymore!"

That really hit home for Kurt, and he had blinked several times in astonishment before replying – his voice shaking, "Well, I'm so sorry that I'm not bending over backwards to accommodate your every little fucking wish, Blaine. God – you are so full of shit. I do everything for you! I clean, I cook, I do the taxes – everything! And I do it all on my own." Blaine's fists were clenched and that frustrated Kurt even more, so he let go with something that had been baking inside his head for weeks now: "Sometimes I wish… Sometimes I wish I'd never agreed to marry you in the first place."

That comment sent Blaine over the edge. What he did next, he did out of pure rage – without thinking. He didn't even realize what he was doing until it was over. Until Kurt had stumbled backward and fallen to the floor, yelping in pain and shock. Until Blaine was re-tracting his fist and comprehending what had just happened.

Kurt had looked up at him, blood flowing from his nose and hurt in his eyes. "Fuck you," he'd gasped, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Kurt," Blaine began, stepping forward to do something – anything – to make it better, "I'm sorry –,"

"Don't fucking touch me!" Kurt had hissed, recoiling from him and shaking his head. "Just… go away. Please go away."

And Blaine had done what he was told.

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That was two nights ago.

They had spent those nights in silence – not knowing what to say or do. Not knowing how to fix any of it.

Blaine wished that he could take back what he had done. He didn't understand why he'd done it in the first place – it wasn't like him. And Kurt was the last person he wanted to hurt.

Kurt didn't know what to think. He had never felt more confused in his life. Because, on one hand: he loved Blaine more than anything. But on the other: Blaine had actually hit him. And made him bleed and hurt him. And that shouldn't be something that Kurt just forgives him for… Should it?

What used to be Kurt's favorite part of every day – climbing into bed next to his husband and falling asleep in his arms – now made him feel slightly sick.

Lying in bed beside Blaine was where he felt the most alone.

So much so that when Blaine told him that he loved him, Kurt couldn't bring himself to respond. He could only whisper, "Don't. Just go."

And Blaine had gotten out of the bed and left the room, leaving Kurt by himself under the covers.

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"Kurt, wake up."

Kurt's eyes felt like lead as he opened them slowly. Gazing over at the clock on his bedside table, he saw what time it was and yawned, his whole body protesting to being woken up.

"It's three in the morning – what do you want?"

He rolled over to see him sitting on his side of the bed. Kurt was just able to make out his face in the semi-darkness of the room; his eyes were sad. "I…" His voice was shaky, but he plowed on – needing to get what he had to say out, "I'm sorry. Baby, I am so, so, so sorry for everything I've done to hurt you. I never meant to, I swear. I just… I fucked up, and I don't know what else to say other than how sorry I am. You've always been the one person in my life who –,"

"Blaine, get into bed."

Blaine was taken aback by this interruption, his words trailing off and his eyes lighting up. "R-Really?"

Kurt nodded, and Blaine wasted no time in slipping under the sheets beside him, wrapping his arms around the man he loved most in the world. "I forgive you," Kurt whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Plus, I can't sleep without you."

Blaine chuckled, and buried his head in the crook of Kurt's neck, pressing soft kisses against his skin.