Nothing Can Touch Us

Author's Note: Hello! :) Thanks for stopping by. This one is set in 'On My Way'. Just a cute little Klaine hurt/comfort wonderfulness. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I'm not Ryan Murphy…although I kind of wish I were… But, sadly, I don't own anything. I just borrow his characters for a bit.

Kurt POV

Blaine is strumming on his guitar when I knock on his bedroom door. I can hear the chords of an A major key as he mashes up about three Taylor Swift songs into one. The guitar and singing stop when he registers the interruption, calling out, "Yeah, come in," in an almost-surprised tone of voice. His expression goes from curious to delighted as I poke my head around the door. "Kurt!" he exclaims, setting his guitar down on the bed beside him, "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you."

I grin at him in return, "Hey, you."

"Hey," he breathes, standing up to give me a quick kiss as I entered the room. "Now answer my questions." He takes my hand and removes the guitar from the bed so that I can sit where it used to be. I sit down and cross my legs as my boyfriend sprawls out on the pillows, giving me his full attention.

I look at my hands and decide to start off with an apology. "Sorry I didn't call or text or anything…it was kind of a spontaneous decision to come here, so…"

"Oh, that's no problem!" Blaine says, his grin displaying his perfect teeth, "The only difference is I would have met you at the door." His bright expression dims a little, "Wait, did my dad let you in, or…?"

"Yeah, he did." Mr. Anderson isn't my biggest fan.

"How was he? Did he…"

I place my hand over his darker one. "It's okay, Blaine. He didn't say much, but he was perfectly civil. Maybe I'll grow on him." My little smile in his direction doesn't seem to make Blaine feel any better.

His hazel eyes are a dark green, tinged with sadness. "I'm so sorry that he doesn't like you," he says softly, "If it makes you feel any better, it's probably not because of you personally, but simply because you're a guy."

"Blaine, it's fine. I've dealt with worse than the occasional silent treatment," I say, but his expression doesn't smooth out, so I lean over and place a soft kiss on his lips until he relaxes under my touch and runs a gentle hand through my hair. "Mm, there we go," I say, pulling away, "Now, how about you put some music on? I know this silence is killing you."

I grin at him as he scampers off the bed to his iPod dock, and soon 'Paradise' by Coldplay is playing softly into the room. Blaine is addicted to music. If he isn't playing something or singing something, then his iPod has to be playing. It helps him function. "Better?" I smirk.

"Yeah," he says, with a shine in his eyes that I know all too well. It is the wonder that someone knows him so well and cares enough to notice little things about him. It comes over his face every time I do something special for him, and while it makes me happy, it also makes me sad to think that he didn't get all the affection he deserves from most people. So, I've made it my goal to make sure he feels as special as he is.

"So, explain the wonderful surprise visit to my humble abode, Mr. Hummel," he says in his dapper-voice, settling back into his position on the pillows like before. He looks like a puppy relaxing at my feet. Also, he hadn't bothered to gel his hair, since it's a weekend and he didn't know I was coming. The fluffiness on top of his head certainly adds to the puppy image. I love that he doesn't feel self-conscious about that around me, anymore.

I sigh and lay down as well, settling my head on his stomach and looking up at the ceiling. "Well, the rest of my family is at the Berry household right now, having dinner."

I can feel his voice rumble in his chest as he speaks, "Why weren't you invited?"

"I was."

He absently starts to comb his hands through my hair. "Then, why didn't you go?"

I shrug, "I don't know. I didn't really feel like going there and celebrating Finchel."

Blaine, of course, sees right through what I'm saying. He gently moves my head for him to have the freedom to sit up, then leans against the headboard. I move myself up next to him and curl close to his side, pressing my head to his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. That's what Blaine is to me…steady. Always there.

"You're worked up about Karofsky, aren't you?" he asks quietly, resuming his gentle touches on my hair, and I nod, not looking up.

"He called me 9 times, Blaine! If I would have picked up…just once…maybe he wouldn't be sitting in that hospital right now! Maybe he wouldn't have—" I'm cut off by a lump in my throat.

"Shh," Blaine soothes, kissing the top of my head, "It wasn't your fault at all, you hear me?" I don't respond, just concentrate on keeping the tears at bay. One of the things I dislike about myself is that I'm a crier. And it makes me feel like I'm weak. "Listen," Blaine says, and I hang on to every word. I love his voice. "I know that this has been a tough time for you, and no one seems to realize that-"

"Not as bad as the Karofsky family."

"I know, baby, but you matter, too. And all this talk about suicide has really hit home for you." He speaks softly, with no judgement in his tone, and continues to rub my arm soothingly.

I'm not surprised that he can read me like a book. I had told him before about the time I had considered killing myself. It was at a terrible time when I thought I was going to be totally alone and that there was nothing else to live for. When I thought my father wasn't going to wake up. I had told myself that if Dad left me, then I would follow him.

"They don't understand," I whisper into Blaine's blue shirt, "The others. They don't get it. I overheard Quinn talking about how selfish it is. You have to gain something for it to be selfish. Suicide is a last resort born of total desperation. I can't believe she can think about that, about how David must have felt in order to do it…and she scorns him. I just-…they don't get it."

Blaine doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He simply tilts my face up and kisses me tenderly. I can't keep the tears from falling and I hate myself for it, but kissing Blaine makes me forget it all. His love makes me forget all the hate I've had to deal with in my life. "Kurt," he whispers, searching my eyes, "Thank you for coming to me. You know I'm always here for you, right?" I bite my lip and nod, burying my face in the place where his neck and shoulder meet.

"I love you," I whisper into his skin.

He holds me closer to him, "I love you, too…so much."

An intricate piano melody is floating out from the speakers on the bedside table beside us. I make myself more comfortable against my boyfriend, resting my head on his shoulder. "What is this?" I ask him.

"It's by Muse. It's called 'Piano Thing'." He replies.

I can't help but let out a tiny laugh. "How descriptive."

We lay there for a few serene moments, just listening to each other's breath and whatever happens to come onto Blaine's playlist. We don't speak. We don't have to. We both know what the other is thinking and we're content with each other's company to simply lay here.

Then, Blaine's watch beeps, letting us know that it's now 8 o'clock pm. I reluctantly detangle myself from his embrace. "I should probably get home," I say, moving to get off the bed, "I left a note, but they might worry so…"

I get so that I'm a few paces from the door when Blaine speaks up from the bed. "Kurt, wait." I stop where I am and he gets up off the bed, coming up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist from behind and buries his face into the back of my neck, the highest he can reach, due to his height. I've always secretly loved the way he tilts his head up to kiss me.

"Do you have to go?" He mumbles into my shirt fabric.

I turn around. "Blaine, I-" However, my sentence is cut off by a pair of lips over mine. He kisses me with passion, pushing me back against the closed door.

"Can't you stay just a little longer?" he asks, breath ghosting over my mouth.

"Oh, I want to, but I really should—" And then he's kissing me again and I find myself not resisting at all. My arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer. We're both not really into PDA at school, but I find that I miss kissing him, touching him—

"Blaine!" His mother shouts from the bottom of the staircase, "Come down for supper, dear!"

My boyfriend groans, reluctantly detaching his lips from mine. However, he keeps the same proximity. His eyes are a little cross-eyed, looking at me, until he closes them to carefully brush our noses together. I can't help but smile.

"You haven't eaten supper, yet?" I ask, removing myself from the Blaine/door sandwich. Blaine dramatically falls against the door for support, then turns around.

"Nope. Have you?"

I shrug, "No, I guess I forgot."

His face lights up with a grin, "Then, how about you call your dad and let him know you're having supper here?"

I feel my face soften, "I guess I could do that."

"You should sleep over."

I raise an eyebrow, "I think that's pushing it."

Blaine just gives me a little smile and tugs me downstairs. Supper with his parents is a little awkward, and his dad leaves the table early, but neither I nor Blaine care all that much.

Nothing can touch us, as long as we're together.

Author's Second Note: So, what did you think? I wrote this pretty late at night, I hope it turned out alright and I hope they're in character. I know I'm really into writing a lot of nothing right now, a lot of fillers and stuff, and I promise I'll update my already-existing stories. Just enjoy my one-shot spree, while I'm into it. :P Review?

Take care.

-Patricia Sage