A/N: So I was reading some fanfics, and I came across one which I found quite flawed in the actual medical side of things (not gonna name and shame). And then I remembered a book I loved when I was about 8, 9? About a coma patient, Cool, Michael Morpurgo if anyone's interested.
And this was born. This is just a prologue, just to see how much interest I get etc.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Glee related. Yes, it is a shame.
Kurt and Blaine had been married for nearly two years, but together six years before that. And they really hadn't been happier.
Blaine was working for a self-established law firm, while Kurt was in fashion design. They had a respectably sized flat, and a too-energetic dog. Their life, in a contrast to high school, was uneventful. They'd gotten through college, they both had stable jobs, and they'd left all the New Directions drama and Ohio homophobia behind the second they stepped off that plane in New York.
Even if Kurt sometimes looked back on Lima nostalgically, or if Blaine held three-way bittersweet Skype conversations with Wes and David, they never regretted coming to New York, and they definitely didn't regret getting married. Not for a second.
"I'm taking Katy out for a walk!" Kurt called to his husband, muttering under his breath, "Even though she's your damn dog."
"OK!" Blaine called back, leafing through his briefcase. "God, where's it gone?"
The two year old golden retriever bounded to the door, hopelessly full of energy, as was normal for her at seven in the morning. If it wasn't so cute it really would be annoying as hell.
Kurt clipped the obnoxiously pink leash to Katy's collar, grumbling – as he did every morning, and in no kind of seriousness whatsoever – that Blaine really couldn't have chosen a more flamboyant colour for her. Like people weren't already going to judge when they saw two men walking a dog together and occasionally kissing.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt pulled the practically bouncing dog out of the door, but still not able to fight the small smile that always crept onto his face at her antics. Despite all his grumbling, the dog really had grown on him.
"You know what, Katy? Let's go for a drive. Then you can run around the park all you like and leave Daddy Kurt in peace. How about that? I like that idea. In you get."
He practically pushed her into the car; not that he cared. She was just a dog, and a particularly stubborn one at that. She wasn't going to break at being handled a bit too roughly once.
He plugged in his iPod, and they set off. On the backseat, Katy was trying to move around, but there wasn't enough space and the car was going too quickly. The imploring eyes she sent his direction every time she was forced to sit down again was one of the cutest things he'd seen from her in quite a while.
Kurt's phone – attached to an earpiece for safety, because Blaine was a little crazy about that sort of thing – started ringing.
"Hello?" Kurt asked.
"Hey, love." It was Blaine. Of course. He always called five minutes later to check they hadn't fallen off the bridge or attacked by a psychopath or something outrageous like that. ('It happens!' he'd said, which was true, but the probability of it happening was just so unlikely…)
"No, we're not dead. But I am taking her to the park."
"Kurt." Blaine tutted. "You need to let her exercise."
"She will exercise. In the park."
"Fine. Have fun. I love you."
"I love you too." Smiling, Kurt hung up, and that was when he saw it. Some drunk person was driving the opposite way, in his lane. It was going to be a head-on collision.
Kurt knew it was happening half a second before it did. There was no space, no time to swerve. And then the sound of splintering glass filled his ears and he and Katy were flung upside down.
I love you, Blaine.
A/N: Yeah. So. That was just the prologue, but what did you think?