Everyday (Part 9)
It’s easy to move forward, once they decide to.
Finn leaves on Thursday. He hugs Kurt for a long time, too long even by old Kurt’s standards, but Kurt lets him, holds onto him right back and sniffs a little when Finn finally pulls back. He wants to stay longer, “as long as you’ll put up with me,” but admits that he needs to get back and do all the lesson planning he’s put off all summer. Blaine and Finn both have to assure Kurt that it’s not because of him; Finn does this every summer. “The zoo is the last fun thing I get to do, and then it’s weeks of class prep.”
The conversation makes Kurt think about school again, something he’s actively avoided since the misunderstanding about Ohio, and a call to Leslie gives him everything he needs to form a plan.
He emails a few of his old professors, the ones Leslie says basically brought Kurt to her on a platter. They’ve all heard, of course, are more than happy to help, and by the end of the day he has a recommended curriculum and permission to audit the classes. Leslie wants him to skip the whole thing and just come back to work, has faith in his abilities, but Kurt still feels strange relying on latent memory and not knowing he knows what he’s doing. In the end he agrees to accept an internship, albeit paid and with more responsibility and input and also with his old office. Kurt wants to tell her he knows what she’s doing, but she sounds so pleased at the prospect of having him back that he doesn’t argue.
The day before marks six weeks since he woke up and Kurt admits that he’d been hoping some sort of karmic law of parallels would kick in and he’d suddenly remember, but he’s not crushed like he has been every other time he hasn’t remembered.
“I haven’t lost hope,” he says as they load the dishwasher after dinner. “It’s not that. I’m just...”
“Not depending on it?” Blaine offers, and smiles when Kurt nods, leans in to kiss his jaw. “I get it.”
Blaine has a lot of his own lesson planning to do, will be spending more time at the school once the next week starts in preparation for classes starting the following week, so they make the most of their last few days of freedom. It’s too hot and too crowded with late summer tourists in town on their own last hurrahs to go anywhere too exciting, but they take the subway to random neighborhoods and go exploring, look for new restaurants and boutiques and anything else that might be interesting. They spend a lot of time in the park. They take pictures everywhere, then giggle over the memory cards when they go get them printed.
“I wonder if we can get this in poster size,” Kurt asks as he looks at the only photographic evidence that he convinced Blaine to go into the aviary, a wide-eyed Blaine staring into the camera as a parrot perches on his head, chewing on a stray curl.
“You’re cruel,” Blaine pouts, but he can’t hold the face when Kurt is smiling so brightly.
Blaine puts off his inevitable return to work until Tuesday, then oversleeps, ends up rushing around the apartment, stacks of sheet music under one arm and his messenger bag clumsily hooked over the other. He kisses Kurt quickly and takes his travel mug with a grateful smile.
He’s only made it halfway down the first flight of stairs (but has already cursed the still broken elevator twice) when he hears a jingling.
“Excuse me,” Kurt calls. Blaine turns, sees Kurt a few steps above him twirling his forgotten keys around one finger and starts to say something, but Kurt’s eyes go wide and he chokes on his next breath.
“Blaine,” he says, voice barely more than a breath but full of something so old, a familiarity that Blaine hasn’t heard in months. Blaine’s breath stops as their eyes meet, and it’s there, too. Recognition. When Blaine manages to speak, his voice cracks.
“Kurt?”
Kurt nods mutely and Blaine drops everything, runs up the stairs and pulls Kurt into his chest with a sob as the keys clatter to the ground.
“Kurt - does this mean - are you - do you - say something,” Blaine begs, framing Kurt’s face with his hands. Kurt’s still staring at him with wide, shining eyes, and it takes him a minute, but he finally finds his voice.
“There you are.”
Blaine uses his grip on Kurt’s face to pull him closer, lips crashing together and their lips move together in the practiced ease of a decade, his mind echoes Kurt. There you are. Kurt’s shaking, or maybe that’s him, and it’s probably both but it doesn’t matter because he’s here in front of him and he has been all along but it’s different, now, different in the set of his shoulders and the knowledge in his eyes.
He starts pushing Kurt backward, toward the apartment, hindered by his refusal to actually let go and untangle their limbs, but Kurt stops him with a gesture toward the mess on the stairs, ignoring his muttering.
“That’s a $500 bag, Blaine, you’re not leaving it laying on the stairs.” Blaine looks up and Kurt’s eyebrow is raised, daring him to argue, and Blaine laughs, the bark of sound echoing in the empty stairway.
“God I’ve missed you,” he giggles, gathering everything into a messy pile and juggling it back up the steps. He bumps into Kurt, bodily pushing him back to the hall and their front door as Kurt joins in his laughter.
Blaine throws everything onto the floor again once they’re inside, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and burying his face in his neck, melting into it when Kurt’s arms go around his shoulders automatically.
“You’re - everything? Do you - what do you - everything? What--”
“Shh, shh,” Kurt mumbles, releasing his hold to rub wide circles across Blaine’s back. “I’m here, it’s alright. Let’s sit down.”
“Don’t wanna move.”
“Honey, you’re trembling, come on,” Kurt prods, walking backwards and taking advantage of the way Blaine is wrapped around him to pull him along. They fall onto the couch and Blaine’s arms fall away from Kurt; he starts running his hands over every part of Kurt he can reach. Down the slopes of his shoulders, the length of his arms to his fingers. He grabs his hands and kisses each palm, runs too light a touch over Kurt’s stomach and smiles when it makes him squirm, down his thighs to rest on his knees. All the while his eyes flit between his hands and Kurt’s face, making sure what he’s seeing is real, and he can’t stop muttering “You’re here, you’re here.”
“I’m here,” Kurt confirms, lacing their fingers together on his knees. “Blaine, look at me, I need you with me right now, ok?”
“Hi,” Blaine says when his eyes meet Kurt’s again, his smile widening.
“Hello.”
“What’s the capital of Nebraska?” Blaine asks, and Kurt rolls his eyes.
“That’s not a good memory test, Blaine. I’ve known the state capitals since I was seven. I’m--”
“Fine,” Blaine interrupts, determined. “Where did you live freshman year?”
“An awful apartment on third ave with a slow draining shower and an upstairs neighbor who tap danced,” Kurt answers, wrinkling his nose before taking a deep breath and squeezing Blaine’s hands.
“I am a junior designer at Malcontego and my father has walked in on us having sex twelve times in the past ten years. My first kiss was technically at age 15 with Brittany Pierce, or 16 with Dave Karofsky, but my first kiss that counted was at age 16 with one Blaine Anderson, Dalton Warbler lead soloist, and then at age 14 on the top of the Empire State Building with Blaine Anderson-Hummel, who has a propensity for doing housework in his underwear and was attacked by a swan on a camping trip at age nineteen and has never properly recovered. Satisfied?”
Blaine nods wordlessly, sniffling quietly as Kurt shifts so their legs are pressed together and pulls Blaine’s head down to rest on his shoulder.
“Do you remember what happened?” Blaine asks quietly, and he can feel Kurt shake his head before he speaks.
“I remember you yelling ‘Love you back’ as I ran out the door, and then I woke up in the hospital with no fucking idea what was happening and was told I was married to this incredibly hot guy who was staring at me like I hung the moon.”
“Good,” Blaine says, exhaling heavily. “I’m glad you don’t - from what everyone says, it was bad.” Kurt hums in acknowledgement and they sit, just breathing together.
“I am so, so sorry,” Kurt says after a minute, untangling one of his hands to cup Blaine’s jaw, thumb stroking across his forehead as Blaine grips his forearm. “That you had to go through this. And I am so grateful for everything you did these past few months. You are amazing.” He kisses Blaine’s forehead. “And I love you.” Ducks to kiss his nose. “And I’m not leaving again.” He shrugs a little, urging Blaine to sit up, and reaches back to unhook the chain around his neck, letting the ring fall into his palm and offering it to Blaine. “I promise I’ll be here,” he says, his hand shaking a little as Blaine slides the ring back where it belongs. “Every day.”
“Every day,” Blaine repeats with a grin, letting Kurt pull him forward into another kiss. It turns desperate immediately, and he’s breathless with the way Kurt works his mouth open so easily, his skilled tongue making Blaine’s knees shake even though he’s already sitting. He darts in over and over, kisses getting shorter but harder, making Blaine’s skin tingle.
“Need you,” he mumbles against Kurt’s lips, and Kurt stands as he hums in agreement, not breaking contact. His hands repeat what Blaine’s had been doing, running over the planes of Blaine’s body as he walks him toward the bedroom. Blaine starts pulling at Kurt’s clothes, then his, too frantic to actually accomplish anything, and other than one shoe and an arm out of a sleeve they’re still fully clothed when they hit the bed.
“Let me,” Kurt says, stilling Blaine’s hands where they’re fumbling against the buttons of his shirt. Kurt rids himself of his own clothes quickly before turning his attention to Blaine’s, whispering I love you and I’m here and I’m sorry into his skin. Blaine laughs when his nose tickles his stomach, chokes at a sharp bite to his hipbone, can’t fight the stinging in his eyes when Kurt lets his open mouth linger over his heart.
“Kurt, please,” Blaine whines as he shifts restlessly on the bed, and he doesn’t care how wrecked he sounds, how desperate. There will be time for slow and sweet and lingering but he feels like he’s falling apart right now and Kurt is the only one who can put him back together. He finds the lube and shoves it at Kurt as he traps him between his bent knees, pushing blindly at his shoulder. “Now, now, now.”
Blaine goes boneless at Kurt’s finger inside of him, starts asking for more before he’s halfway in. Kurt seems to get it, though, just kisses the inside of his thigh and adds another, compensating for the stretch with too much lube. Blaine starts tugging him back up after a minute, just far enough to roll them over so he’s straddling Kurt, reaching behind him to grab Kurt’s cock as he tries to sink down and whining when Kurt’s hands on his hips stop him.
“Honey, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Kurt pants, hips twitching up into Blaine’s grip. “You’re not - not stretched, it’s been too long.”
“Don’t care,” Blaine breathes, though he raises up on his knees just enough so Kurt can slip his fingers back in, lets him spread them inside of him for another minute before he’s wiggling away again. “Come on, Kurt, please.” Kurt nods this time, holds himself steady as Blaine sinks down.
Kurt falls back against the mattress when Blaine starts to move, too soon and too hard for both of them, but Blaine whimpers and grabs at his biceps, tries to pull him back up even as he rocks his hips.
“Closer, closer,” he begs, eyes wild and breath catching. “Need you close, stay close.”
“Right here,” Kurt gasps, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s waist. “Not leaving.” He can’t get any leverage like this but he plants his feet, tries to thrust up as much as he can to meet Blaine’s hips, kisses away the tears rolling down Blaine’s cheeks, mouths at the hollow below his ear while he murmurs nonsense to him.
Blaine’s not going to last, not with the way the worry and sorrow and fear have rushed out of him, leaving what feels like a pile of raw nerves in their wake that sparks at every touch from Kurt, and he works himself up and down harder, whines as Kurt drags his teeth along the tendons in his neck.
“Come on,” Kurt urges, keeps one hand on Blaine’s hip to guide him and circles the other around his cock. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” Blaine comes with a cry of Kurt’s name and Kurt follows him over the edge, finally collapsing back and pulling Blaine down with him.
“I want babies,” Blaine says when he catches his breath, voice muddled with sleep. He lifts his head when Kurt starts to shake underneath him.
“You know that’s not how it works, right?” Kurt laughs, rubbing his hands over Blaine’s back and down to where he’s just slipped out of him. “We are missing some vital parts.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Blaine grumbles, smacking his chest as he glares up at Kurt through half-closed eyes. “Babies,” he repeats seriously. “I want them. Soon. I want to find a surrogate.”
“It’s a plan,” Kurt says, lifting his head enough to kiss Blaine’s forehead before dropping back down and sighing as Blaine burrows into his neck. “We should call Dr. Miller.”
“And your dad.”
“Blaine, what’s the rule?”
“No talking about your dad while your dick is out,” Blaine says automatically, kissing Kurt’s neck in apology before he starts giggling again. He feels drunk. “You remember the rules.”
“You obviously don’t,” Kurt says, but there’s nothing mean in his voice, and when Blaine tilts his head he can see Kurt trying to stare down at him. He props himself up on his elbows and nudges their noses together, going a little cross-eyed in his attempt to keep eye contact.
“Put your dick away so we can call your dad,” Blaine says, and Kurt snorts, pushing him off and rolling off the bed.
“Weren’t you begging for my dick fifteen minutes ago?” Kurt asks, throwing Blaine’s boxers at him as he pulls on his own.
“Yes, and I will be in a little while, and vice versa, for the rest of the day,” Blaine laughs, waggling his eyebrows. “But first let’s make everyone else’s day.”
“What was it like?” Blaine murmurs into the dim room. They’d collapsed into bed early, exhausted from a trip to the hospital and so many phone calls. Burt had cried, and Carole had cried, and Finn had wept like a baby before switching into celebration mode, shooing them off the phone so he could start planning a party. (Rachel had tried to come over, had only been dissuaded by the promise of a sleepover at a later date and hung up with a cheery, “Call me when the sex haze clears.”)
“Hmm?” Kurt hums from where his head is pillowed on Blaine’s chest. Blaine runs his fingertips over Kurt’s arm, feels the catch of his sweaty skin as he traces aimless patterns.
“Remembering. What was it like?”
“It was like coming up from underwater,” Kurt says quietly. “I don’t know what I...expected...but it wasn’t that. Nothing flashed before my eyes or anything. It was just like everything came into focus. You looked up at me and you were you but you were him, too, and everyone you’ve been in between. And I just...you’d told me, before, I knew things from stories, but then I knew, and I was just home.”
“I missed you so much,” Blaine breathes. “God, Kurt.”
“I know. I don’t know how you did it. I don’t think...I don’t know if I could’ve done it, if the roles were reversed.” Blaine scoffs at that, pulls Kurt a little closer.
“I would’ve made you happy again,” Blaine says, kissing the top of Kurt’s head. “I know I could have.”
“You could. You did,” Kurt smiles, shifting up the bed until he can lay on the pillow, facing Blaine. “You do. You always will.” His eyes drift closed and Blaine watches his eyelashes flutter in the glow from the street light.
“Thank you for coming back,” Blaine whispers, tilting his head forward to rest against Kurt’s. Kurt’s lips barely move when he answers, already half asleep.
“Thanks for waiting for me.”
-----
Kurt’s already itching to get back to work, panicked over the spring line and the fall runway shows and Blaine is now officially really behind on getting everything ready for the choirs and orchestra and he hasn’t even thought about the fall musical past his good natured arguments with Kurt, but they agree to take one more day off together, still thrumming with adrenaline at their reunion and feeling a bit like newlyweds.
They’re grinning dopily at each other over coffee cups when Kurt bites his bottom lip, staring down into his coffee as he speaks.
“I can’t believe you taught me how to blow you,” he mutters, face going a little red as he shakes his head.
“Well, you - I mean, it was...” Blaine sputters, can feel his cheeks reddening in response; he looks away when Kurt’s eyes snap up.
“Blaine Anderson-Hummel,” he gapes, voice accusing as his eyes widen. “You totally got off on that. Oh my god you giant perv you got off on teaching a teenager how to have sex.”
“You weren’t a teenager!” Blaine says with a huff, throwing his hands up. “And...it was hot, ok? You were all unsure and eager and needy and I got to take care of you and stop laughing at me you jerk.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kurt giggles, not sounding at all sorry and dodging the napkin Blaine throws at him. “It was sweet. And, actually, yeah, looking back it was pretty hot. Maybe I can work on my poker face and we can try it again.” Blaine sputters again when Kurt winks, then levels another glare at Kurt for good measure because he’s still giggling.
They pick at the bowl of fruit between them, toes brushing ankles under the table, and after a while Kurt snorts, fails to pass it off as a cough, and Blaine takes a deep breath, gets ready for whatever Kurt finds funny now.
“The top of the Empire State Building?” he asks, laughter in his voice. “Did you really have to take advantage of my adolescent ‘Sleepless in Seattle’ obsession?”
“I didn’t even think of that,” Blaine insists, slapping a palm to his forehead, because for as well as everything was going, as perfect as it is right now, he never had a plan, was just trying to keep up. “I was just...falling in love with you again. It would’ve been smart, though. I needed all the help I could get.”
“You really didn’t,” Kurt says, eyes fond. They’re quiet again and this time it’s Blaine who breaks the silence, smirking for a second before schooling his face into blankness.
“I’m sorry your memory recovery didn’t live up to the expectations set by General Hospital,” he says solemnly, managing to stay quiet for upwards of five seconds before he laughs loudly and squawking when Kurt leans over the table and pokes him hard in the ribs.
“How long have you been waiting to use that?” Kurt asks, scowling.
“50 days.” They go quiet again, the breath leaving both when they hear it out loud. 49 days of waiting and wondering, another 41 of fear and uncertainty before that. Three months since they’ve been together like this, been able to be them.
“Come on,” Kurt says, standing and offering Blaine his hand. “Shower with me.” Blaine grins as he lets Kurt lead the way, and they’re almost to the bathroom before he says anything.
“Should I find my bathing suit?” He barely dodges the kick Kurt aims at him, slipping into the bathroom with a peal of laughter.
Rachel, to her credit, lasts almost an entire 24 hours before she shows up, bags in one hand and a box tucked under her arm that she hands off to Blaine with a grin.
“Why, pray tell,” Kurt starts, staring intently at a blushing Blaine and slipping an arm around Rachel’s waist as she tucks herself into his side. “Does Rachel have that?”
“I didn’t want you to find them and freak out!” Blaine exclaims as Rachel laughs into Kurt’s shirt.
“Oh, of course,” Kurt smiles, a beatific look that has never meant good things for Blaine. “Wouldn’t want to sully my innocence with sex toys when you could do it yourself.”
“I promise I didn’t look in the box,” Rachel says as Blaine scowls at them. “Much. Purple? Really?” Both men groan and she swings the bags on her arm. “Blaine, sweetie, put those away, I brought dinner.”
The night passes quickly, Kurt and Rachel chatting rapidly as Blaine alternates between paying attention and just watching Kurt talk. It’s late before they manage to leave the kitchen table, drifting toward the bedroom, and Rachel rifles through the bottom drawer of Kurt’s dresser until she uncovers her tank top and shorts, waving them triumphantly. Kurt and Blaine both strip down to t-shirts and boxers, are about to head back out to the living room when Rachel reappears, launching herself onto the bed and patting the mattress on either side of her.
“We’re all sleeping here,” she demands. “Come cuddle me, and stop it with the synchronized eye rolling, it’s weird.” They do as she says, climbing into the bed and settling into the pillows as she does the same, grabbing one of their hands in each of hers.
“We’re going to have babies,” Kurt says around a yawn, and Rachel tightens her grip with a squeal.
“I’m in.”
“Well of course,” Blaine shrugs. “You’re Aunt Rachel.”
“No,” Rachel says firmly. “I’m in. Let me be your surrogate.”
“Rachel--” Kurt starts, but Rachel talks over him.
“No,” she says again. “We have access to my family’s medical history going back five generations and you know I won’t go nuts and try to track the kids down in 16 years because you’re never getting rid of me anyway. And you can be there for every second of the pregnancy and not worry about seeming creepy because I already know how creepy you both are and I want to do this for you.”
“What about the show?” Blaine asks.
“The show is closing,” Rachel says quietly. “Six weeks. I found out in June.”
“Why didn’t you--”
“I think there were more pressing matters to deal with,” Rachel laughs, squeezing their hands again. “I need a break, anyway. Come on. Let me bear your child.”
“You’re sure?” Blaine asks, and when Rachel nods, he looks over her head at Kurt. Kurt raises his eyebrows and Blaine mirrors the action, a grin splitting his face when Kurt speaks.
“Ok.”
Rachel squeals again, kicking her feet against the mattress. Kurt starts rattling off things they need to look into, doctors and in-vitro and he’s talking a mile a minute when Blaine reaches over Rachel to press a hand to his chest.
“I want the first one to be yours,” Blaine says, voice soft but not leaving room for discussion. Kurt looks at him for a moment before nodding with an understanding smile.
“But the next one is yours,” Kurt insists. “Assuming Rachel agrees to another.”
“Why not?” Rachel laughs, throwing her arms in the air. “Assuming there isn’t of a revival of Funny Girl, my uterus is yours.” Kurt and Blaine both lean down to kiss her on the cheek, settling on their sides as the room goes quiet.
“Ya know,” Rachel says after a while, quiet but with a hint of mischief in her voice. “We could just skip the bells and whistles and do this the old-fashioned way.” Kurt looks at her, confused, while Blaine snorts on her other side.
“Climb on up, Kurt,” Rachel giggles, spreading her legs as much as her position between them allows. “I won’t even be offended if you look at Blaine instead of me.”
“You’re both insane and I can’t believe I’m bringing children into the world with you,” Kurt groans, pushing Rachel toward Blaine when he starts to laugh, too. Rachel wiggles her way back to the middle, sighing contentedly as they each reach across her and covering their linked hands with her own.
“Welcome back, Kurt.”
-----
They’re both surprised when Burt doesn’t immediately jump on a plane, but Burt just clears his throat, mumbles something neither can fully understand much of other than “Sure you two have a lot of catching up to do” and Blaine covers the phone when Kurt squawks in indignation because the assumption is a) true and b) a much better alternative to admitting that they’ve been ‘catching up’ for weeks already. He’s been on the receiving end of Burt Hummel’s judgment before; he doesn’t want to go back.
They’ll see Burt the next week, anyway; Finn has a party planned before they can actually finish making phone calls, a “Labor Day slash Kurt’s Homecoming even though he never left but he’s still back, ya know?” affair that everyone is booking flights to attend. Kurt’s practically vibrating with the need to take over planning, but Finn refuses, insists he’s “got this” and has Rachel helping, too, so Kurt shouldn’t worry. Kurt still looks worried.
Their family arrives like a tidal wave the next week, Finn and Burt and Carole and Blaine’s parents and Mercedes and a random assortment of members of New Directions, many of whom Blaine hasn’t seen since the wedding because everyone is busy and spread out and it’s so easy to lose touch until something forces you not to. Their apartment is packed with people and then suddenly, startlingly empty as everyone leaves en masse for hotels and Blaine has whiplash from the sheer amount of activity; it’s difficult to readjust when everything has been so quiet and careful and contained for so long.
Burt and Carole are still in the living room; Kurt’s between them on the sofa, tucked under his dad’s arm while Carole fusses with his sleeves, his collar, anything she can pretend to adjust. Kurt just watches her with the same look of fond exasperation he always has, a decade later and he’s still not used to having a mother, but Blaine can see the unspoken panic in his eyes, She’s going to pill the fabric. He takes pity, sits down on Carole’s other side and draws her attention away; she immediately starts giving his shirt the same treatment, but he doesn’t care as much.
“Good to have ya back, kid,” Burt says, squeezing Kurt’s shoulders. He’s been quiet so far, unsurprisingly so; he’s never been a chatty guy, but his eyes have spoken volumes all day, tracking Kurt through rooms with such tenderness and relief.
“Good to be back, Dad,” Kurt sighs, sinking into his hold a little more and batting at Burt’s leg when he props his foot on the coffee table. “Sorry you had to help me shower.”
“Not the first time I’ve seen you naked,” Burt shrugs. “At least this time you weren’t on top of Blaine.” Blaine can feel Kurt’s eyes narrow even though he can’t see him and covers his eyes with his hand as the room goes silent. He can feel Carole’s shoulders shake next to him and it’s only a second before she breaks, giggling through her hand. Kurt just groans, crossing his arms over his chest as he sulks. Burt jostles him a little with the arm around him shoulders, grinning widely as he repeats the sentiment.
“Good to have ya back.”
It’s clear that Rachel helped more than a little when they arrive at The Foundry. There’s no way Finn ever would have thought to book the same place they got married, probably didn’t even remember its name. And to get the terrace on a holiday weekend with a week’s notice? Definitely an exercise in Rachel Berry name dropping.
The place is packed, friends from Ohio and college and work and everywhere in between. Blaine sees his parents talking to John, excuses himself to join in the conversation just as Jill pulls Kurt into a small group. They spend an hour in different conversations, passing with brushes of hands as they’re shuttled around. Blaine sees Kurt crying at least twice, knows he isn’t used to so much unabashed affection being piled on him, that he still can’t really process it.
Everyone is pleasantly buzzed when Rachel starts gesturing emphatically to them and Blaine rolls his eyes as he tugs Kurt toward her. She passes Kurt a microphone and he immediately hands it off to Blaine, murmurs, “I need a minute, you first.”
“Hey everyone,” Blaine says into the mic, smiling as everyone immediately turns their attention to him. “I’m not the guest of honor, but I’m being asked to vamp for a few minutes, so...I just want to say thank you to everyone. I know I wasn’t great about answering phone calls or replying to emails or...ya know, showering.” Rachel wrinkles her nose in his peripheral vision and he sticks his tongue out. “But I appreciate everything you guys did for us. It’s been a hell of a summer. Let’s never do it again.” Laughter ripples through the crowd and Blaine can feel Kurt take a deep breath; he hands the mic over without looking, keeping his grip on Kurt’s hand.
“I haven’t had a mic all to myself in a while,” Kurt says wryly. “Can I get a spotlight?” More laughter, louder this time, and Kurt breathes again before he starts.
“I was so focused on getting out of Ohio for so long. And then I did it. I had the talent and the drive and the boy,” he squeezes Blaine’s hand. “And I said I was never looking back. But I think I took it for granted - everything I have here, and everything I had there that let me go after it. I’ve...I’ve had so much, for so long now, that I forgot. It’s just...anything can happen. There are heart attacks and rogue taxis but there are failed spy missions and lead singers late to performances. Enemies become friends and friends become family and I got launched head first into a time before I had any of that, and it made me remember to remember how much I love all of you.”
Blaine tightens his grip when Kurt sniffs, hears the sound echo throughout the room as a few people discreetly wipe their eyes.
“Oh god I just went all inspirational. That wasn’t in the plan,” Kurt groans. “My point is, I love all of you, I love you more than I can say,” he says, looking at Blaine. “And don’t text while you’re walking. Oh, also,” he stops, glances at Blaine with a question in his eyes, and Blaine nods. “Since you’re all here, and you need to stop crying...Blaine and I are having babies. Soon.”
“Yeah we are!” Rachel yells, and Kurt closes his eyes as he laughs.
“With Rachel,” Blaine adds, leaning into the mic. “In case that war cry wasn’t clear.”
The crowd whoops and laughs and they’re enveloped, again, but together this time, accepting new rounds of congratulations and answering questions (including an awkward and hilarious ten minutes in which Kurt repeatedly assures Finn that neither of them are actually going to have sex with Rachel, and also that the fact that it would be weird for Finn is the least of their reasons why) and Blaine doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand for the rest of the night.
They go back to work, have been back for a week and a half but it’s real now, with the start of the school year and the slow build to fashion week and so they part each morning with a lingering kiss and an ‘I love you’ before turning in opposite directions down the sidewalk. Blaine isn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe for the world to have undergone some fundamental change in their absence. But it’s the same even though they’re different, and just like that they’re back to the life that has kept going without them.
Blaine beats Kurt home most nights, doesn’t manage to take a full breath until he hears Kurt’s keys in the door and knows he’ll have to work on that, the way his stomach clenches when Kurt is out of his line of sight for too long. He holds Kurt a little too tightly at night, drags Kurt’s arms around him with too much force.
Kurt’s been jumpy, too, in his own way; his doctors had had very little in the way of answers, offered the medical equivalent of a shrug, and Kurt’s never been great with the unknown. He’s only said it once, but Blaine knows it’s always in the back of his mind - if his memory could just come back, couldn’t it theoretically disappear again? He feels it in the shift of Kurt’s body when he wakes in the morning, the momentary held breath as he comes into awareness; Blaine can practically hear Kurt thinking, making sure he still remembers.
They’ll calm down eventually, Blaine’s sure. He’ll stop worrying about losing Kurt and Kurt will stop worrying about losing himself and Rachel will stop bringing groceries and asking Blaine if he’s eaten (which Blaine can’t find it in himself to be annoyed with because he knows that if it wasn’t for Rachel, he physically wouldn’t have made it through those six weeks, knows that this is her anxiety still working itself out). The fear will get duller and foggier and they’ll never forget but they’ll move past it, get on with life.
For now they run a lot. Well, Blaine runs; Kurt’s leg can’t handle the impact, but he starts going to the gym with Blaine to strengthen the still weak right side of his body, and Blaine watches him on the elliptical, mouthing the words to an unheard song and occasionally catching Blaine’s eye across the room. Blaine follows through on his promise and tries yoga. Once. Mostly they run.
There were a lot of promises made in that first week that Kurt really came back, whispered into the air and the pillows and each other’s mouths. Some will be easy to keep (I will love you forever) and some they’ll surely break (We’ll never fight again) because nothing is that easy. Kurt is going to take far too long to get ready and make them late, and Blaine is going to leave his underwear on the bathroom floor, and Fashion Week is scheduled to coincide with tech week for the musical so Blaine knows they’re going to be at each other’s throats that entire week because this has happened before and it’s not pretty.
But they make promises anyway, and plans, and admissions, safe in the dark.
It takes Blaine another week to say what he’s been holding onto since July, and he only manages it then because he’s felt Kurt watching him for a few days, considering; can feel his eyes now even though the street light outside burnt out a few hours ago and it’s pitch black in their bedroom.
“If you’re going to think that loudly, it’s only polite to talk.” Kurt doesn’t ask directly, and Blaine appreciates that because he’s always had a hard time dodging Kurt’s questions, knows this is his way of saying You can tell me, but you don’t have to.
“We were about to pull the plug,” Blaine says in a rush. He’d had a plan for how he was going to approach the matter, and blurting it out like that wasn’t part of the plan. “When you woke up - the next day was supposed to be - I’d signed the papers and...” He chokes on the apology and Kurt’s hand finds his on the mattress, squeezes.
“I know, honey,” he says quietly. Kurt turns onto his side, rolling up onto his elbow and reaching out with his free hand to cup Blaine’s jaw, eyes finding Blaine’s even in the dark. “I know.”
“How?”
“Rachel,” Kurt says simply. “You’ve been so jittery and I knew you’d never tell me everything that was going on up here,” he taps Blaine’s temple lightly. “And I saw how Rachel’s been hovering over you. I asked her for the details the other day at lunch.”
“Oh. I’m sorry I--”
“Stop.” Kurt’s voice is firm and Blaine does as he says, stops. “Whatever you were about to apologize for, don’t, ok? You have nothing to be sorry for.” Blaine nods against his hand, not trusting his voice. “Besides, you’ve always been the one who pushed me to make my deadlines.”
“That’s true,” Blaine sighs, laughing a little at the lightness in his chest now that Kurt knows and doesn’t hate him.
“What did I tell you in high school?” Kurt yawns around the end of the question.
“That you wouldn’t say goodbye,” Blaine answers, pulling at the arm Kurt’s still leaning on until he lays down, sharing Blaine’s pillow.
“Mmhmm. And I promised you in the hospital that I would remember you.” His voice is already fuzzy around the edges as he settles against Blaine, wedging a knee between his and throwing an arm over his waist. “Kurt Anderson-Hummel: Man of His Word. I should get that put on a mug.” He giggles and Blaine can feel the faint puff of breath on his face, can’t help but laugh in response even as he follows Kurt into sleep.
The settlement check arrives, and it’s one to think about it in theory but the reality is a lot of zeroes. Enough zeroes that neither of them want to actually touch the check, that they walk as quickly as they can to the bank because they’ll figure out what to do with it, how to invest it, later, but for now it needs to get out of their hands before Blaine spills wine on it or Kurt accidentally sets it on fire or something equally ridiculous.
Blaine makes a last ditch appeal for the falcon and Kurt waves it off with as much judgement as he had before, and it’s after trips and investments have been discussed that Kurt sighs heavily, props his elbows on the table presses his fingers to his temples like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say.
“We should move.”
Blaine isn’t surprised; he’s been thinking about it, too. They’ve acquired so much stuff in the few years they’ve been here, so much that turning the office into a nursery isn’t really feasible unless a baby can sleep in a piano and Kurt doesn’t look amused by that suggestion.
“We hate moving,” Blaine sighs, his agreement silent in the way he mirrors Kurt’s posture. It’s true. In the time they have lived in New York, they have lived in two apartments: the one Kurt was in when Blaine moved in, and the one they bought after graduation. But Kurt points out the lack of space, how much harder it will be to move with a baby, how nice it would be to have everything ready and perfect.
“Besides,” Kurt shrugs. “We could pay people to move for us now.”
“This is why I married you,” Blaine grins, leaning across the table to press a loud, smacking kiss to his lips, even though he knows Kurt will try to control the packing and moving himself. Kurt opens his laptop while Blaine calls the realtor that sold them the apartment to get it back on the market, and by the end of the week they’ve looked at four prospects.
Rachel’s show wraps and she almost immediately starts “preparing for battle,” as she calls it when Blaine asks her what the frighteningly green concoction in her glass is. There are vitamins and doctor’s appointments and, one day, a very red-faced Kurt coming home from his own appointment (Blaine had offered to accompany him for...inspiration...but Kurt had given him that look that said I am so unimpressed with you right now and whatever, Blaine is funny). All systems seem to be in order, so it’s just a matter of waiting.
They make an offer on a three bedroom, two bath apartment a few blocks away, get an offer on their place a few days later, sign what feels like hundreds of papers, and everyone is so excited about future apartments and babies that no one bothers to realize they will now be adding “moving” to their upcoming Fashion Week/tech week horror extravaganza. Blaine comes home one night to see Kurt standing at his drafting table, pencils stuck over each ear and a half-full box labeled “I Don’t Know” in thick black letters at his feet, staring blankly ahead as he chugs what is likely his eighth or ninth cup of coffee that afternoon, and that’s when they really do call people to take care of the move for them.
Day 1
Rachel shows up on a Saturday morning, too early in general but especially since it’s only their second weekend in the apartment, and it’s the week after the musical closes but before the holiday concerts start, aka the only moment of peace Blaine will have for the foreseeable future. Kurt rolls out of bed to answer the door even though they can hear Rachel letting herself in, ruffling Blaine’s hair before he goes. When he comes back, Rachel is with him and his mouth is twitching the way it does when he’s trying very hard to look serious. Rachel is gripping his hand tightly, shifting from foot to foot.
“Really?” Blaine asks, suddenly alert, because there’s only one reason for them to try so hard not to look happy right now.
“Ready to make good on that fifth diamond?” Kurt asks before he launches himself at Blaine, almost managing to break both of their noses when he jumps onto the bed just as Blaine sits up. They roll around for a minute, laughing and kissing until they’re breathless from both, before they both jump up and close in on Rachel from either side.
Then it’s a day of phone calls and watching Kurt make Rachel drink half a gallon of orange juice at brunch and wondering which of them will be worse during this pregnancy (something Blaine will never, ever discuss out loud because there is no way it can end well). There’s an immediate urge to nest and paint samples swiped onto the nursery walls and in the blink of an eye it’s night and they’re back in bed, overtired in the way that makes them unable to do anything but endlessly talk at each other.
“If you’d told me ten years ago that I would be procreating with Rachel Berry I would’ve told you you were insane,” Kurt murmurs. “You, maybe, sure. But not me.”
“Oh shut up,” Blaine groans, slapping out to his side where he knows Kurt is grinning like an idiot. “You’re not going to be able to use that against me forever.”
“Nah,” Kurt agrees. “In a few years you will have actually made a baby with her, so I’m sure I’ll find new jokes.” He giggles as Blaine pinches him, trying to squirm away, but Blaine catches him around the waist and pulls him back toward the middle of the bed.
“I have to admit,” Blaine says. “Since everything happened I’ve been waiting for you to...not snap, but for you to have some big realization about life and want to go on some kind of adventure while you still had the chance.”
“I did,” Kurt answers simply. “I’ve...we’ve always been happy but when I watched the wedding video that night, I saw how stupidly happy we really are. To be on the outside looking in...that was my big realization once everything came back. We are as happy as two people can get, aren’t we?”
“We are,” Blaine agrees.
“Besides,” Kurt says, covering Blaine’s left hand with his own where it lays on his stomach, slotting their fingers together so their rings line up. “Every day with you is an adventure.”
Finn leaves on Thursday. He hugs Kurt for a long time, too long even by old Kurt’s standards, but Kurt lets him, holds onto him right back and sniffs a little when Finn finally pulls back. He wants to stay longer, “as long as you’ll put up with me,” but admits that he needs to get back and do all the lesson planning he’s put off all summer. Blaine and Finn both have to assure Kurt that it’s not because of him; Finn does this every summer. “The zoo is the last fun thing I get to do, and then it’s weeks of class prep.”
The conversation makes Kurt think about school again, something he’s actively avoided since the misunderstanding about Ohio, and a call to Leslie gives him everything he needs to form a plan.
He emails a few of his old professors, the ones Leslie says basically brought Kurt to her on a platter. They’ve all heard, of course, are more than happy to help, and by the end of the day he has a recommended curriculum and permission to audit the classes. Leslie wants him to skip the whole thing and just come back to work, has faith in his abilities, but Kurt still feels strange relying on latent memory and not knowing he knows what he’s doing. In the end he agrees to accept an internship, albeit paid and with more responsibility and input and also with his old office. Kurt wants to tell her he knows what she’s doing, but she sounds so pleased at the prospect of having him back that he doesn’t argue.
The day before marks six weeks since he woke up and Kurt admits that he’d been hoping some sort of karmic law of parallels would kick in and he’d suddenly remember, but he’s not crushed like he has been every other time he hasn’t remembered.
“I haven’t lost hope,” he says as they load the dishwasher after dinner. “It’s not that. I’m just...”
“Not depending on it?” Blaine offers, and smiles when Kurt nods, leans in to kiss his jaw. “I get it.”
Blaine has a lot of his own lesson planning to do, will be spending more time at the school once the next week starts in preparation for classes starting the following week, so they make the most of their last few days of freedom. It’s too hot and too crowded with late summer tourists in town on their own last hurrahs to go anywhere too exciting, but they take the subway to random neighborhoods and go exploring, look for new restaurants and boutiques and anything else that might be interesting. They spend a lot of time in the park. They take pictures everywhere, then giggle over the memory cards when they go get them printed.
“I wonder if we can get this in poster size,” Kurt asks as he looks at the only photographic evidence that he convinced Blaine to go into the aviary, a wide-eyed Blaine staring into the camera as a parrot perches on his head, chewing on a stray curl.
“You’re cruel,” Blaine pouts, but he can’t hold the face when Kurt is smiling so brightly.
Blaine puts off his inevitable return to work until Tuesday, then oversleeps, ends up rushing around the apartment, stacks of sheet music under one arm and his messenger bag clumsily hooked over the other. He kisses Kurt quickly and takes his travel mug with a grateful smile.
He’s only made it halfway down the first flight of stairs (but has already cursed the still broken elevator twice) when he hears a jingling.
“Excuse me,” Kurt calls. Blaine turns, sees Kurt a few steps above him twirling his forgotten keys around one finger and starts to say something, but Kurt’s eyes go wide and he chokes on his next breath.
“Blaine,” he says, voice barely more than a breath but full of something so old, a familiarity that Blaine hasn’t heard in months. Blaine’s breath stops as their eyes meet, and it’s there, too. Recognition. When Blaine manages to speak, his voice cracks.
“Kurt?”
Kurt nods mutely and Blaine drops everything, runs up the stairs and pulls Kurt into his chest with a sob as the keys clatter to the ground.
“Kurt - does this mean - are you - do you - say something,” Blaine begs, framing Kurt’s face with his hands. Kurt’s still staring at him with wide, shining eyes, and it takes him a minute, but he finally finds his voice.
“There you are.”
Blaine uses his grip on Kurt’s face to pull him closer, lips crashing together and their lips move together in the practiced ease of a decade, his mind echoes Kurt. There you are. Kurt’s shaking, or maybe that’s him, and it’s probably both but it doesn’t matter because he’s here in front of him and he has been all along but it’s different, now, different in the set of his shoulders and the knowledge in his eyes.
He starts pushing Kurt backward, toward the apartment, hindered by his refusal to actually let go and untangle their limbs, but Kurt stops him with a gesture toward the mess on the stairs, ignoring his muttering.
“That’s a $500 bag, Blaine, you’re not leaving it laying on the stairs.” Blaine looks up and Kurt’s eyebrow is raised, daring him to argue, and Blaine laughs, the bark of sound echoing in the empty stairway.
“God I’ve missed you,” he giggles, gathering everything into a messy pile and juggling it back up the steps. He bumps into Kurt, bodily pushing him back to the hall and their front door as Kurt joins in his laughter.
Blaine throws everything onto the floor again once they’re inside, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and burying his face in his neck, melting into it when Kurt’s arms go around his shoulders automatically.
“You’re - everything? Do you - what do you - everything? What--”
“Shh, shh,” Kurt mumbles, releasing his hold to rub wide circles across Blaine’s back. “I’m here, it’s alright. Let’s sit down.”
“Don’t wanna move.”
“Honey, you’re trembling, come on,” Kurt prods, walking backwards and taking advantage of the way Blaine is wrapped around him to pull him along. They fall onto the couch and Blaine’s arms fall away from Kurt; he starts running his hands over every part of Kurt he can reach. Down the slopes of his shoulders, the length of his arms to his fingers. He grabs his hands and kisses each palm, runs too light a touch over Kurt’s stomach and smiles when it makes him squirm, down his thighs to rest on his knees. All the while his eyes flit between his hands and Kurt’s face, making sure what he’s seeing is real, and he can’t stop muttering “You’re here, you’re here.”
“I’m here,” Kurt confirms, lacing their fingers together on his knees. “Blaine, look at me, I need you with me right now, ok?”
“Hi,” Blaine says when his eyes meet Kurt’s again, his smile widening.
“Hello.”
“What’s the capital of Nebraska?” Blaine asks, and Kurt rolls his eyes.
“That’s not a good memory test, Blaine. I’ve known the state capitals since I was seven. I’m--”
“Fine,” Blaine interrupts, determined. “Where did you live freshman year?”
“An awful apartment on third ave with a slow draining shower and an upstairs neighbor who tap danced,” Kurt answers, wrinkling his nose before taking a deep breath and squeezing Blaine’s hands.
“I am a junior designer at Malcontego and my father has walked in on us having sex twelve times in the past ten years. My first kiss was technically at age 15 with Brittany Pierce, or 16 with Dave Karofsky, but my first kiss that counted was at age 16 with one Blaine Anderson, Dalton Warbler lead soloist, and then at age 14 on the top of the Empire State Building with Blaine Anderson-Hummel, who has a propensity for doing housework in his underwear and was attacked by a swan on a camping trip at age nineteen and has never properly recovered. Satisfied?”
Blaine nods wordlessly, sniffling quietly as Kurt shifts so their legs are pressed together and pulls Blaine’s head down to rest on his shoulder.
“Do you remember what happened?” Blaine asks quietly, and he can feel Kurt shake his head before he speaks.
“I remember you yelling ‘Love you back’ as I ran out the door, and then I woke up in the hospital with no fucking idea what was happening and was told I was married to this incredibly hot guy who was staring at me like I hung the moon.”
“Good,” Blaine says, exhaling heavily. “I’m glad you don’t - from what everyone says, it was bad.” Kurt hums in acknowledgement and they sit, just breathing together.
“I am so, so sorry,” Kurt says after a minute, untangling one of his hands to cup Blaine’s jaw, thumb stroking across his forehead as Blaine grips his forearm. “That you had to go through this. And I am so grateful for everything you did these past few months. You are amazing.” He kisses Blaine’s forehead. “And I love you.” Ducks to kiss his nose. “And I’m not leaving again.” He shrugs a little, urging Blaine to sit up, and reaches back to unhook the chain around his neck, letting the ring fall into his palm and offering it to Blaine. “I promise I’ll be here,” he says, his hand shaking a little as Blaine slides the ring back where it belongs. “Every day.”
“Every day,” Blaine repeats with a grin, letting Kurt pull him forward into another kiss. It turns desperate immediately, and he’s breathless with the way Kurt works his mouth open so easily, his skilled tongue making Blaine’s knees shake even though he’s already sitting. He darts in over and over, kisses getting shorter but harder, making Blaine’s skin tingle.
“Need you,” he mumbles against Kurt’s lips, and Kurt stands as he hums in agreement, not breaking contact. His hands repeat what Blaine’s had been doing, running over the planes of Blaine’s body as he walks him toward the bedroom. Blaine starts pulling at Kurt’s clothes, then his, too frantic to actually accomplish anything, and other than one shoe and an arm out of a sleeve they’re still fully clothed when they hit the bed.
“Let me,” Kurt says, stilling Blaine’s hands where they’re fumbling against the buttons of his shirt. Kurt rids himself of his own clothes quickly before turning his attention to Blaine’s, whispering I love you and I’m here and I’m sorry into his skin. Blaine laughs when his nose tickles his stomach, chokes at a sharp bite to his hipbone, can’t fight the stinging in his eyes when Kurt lets his open mouth linger over his heart.
“Kurt, please,” Blaine whines as he shifts restlessly on the bed, and he doesn’t care how wrecked he sounds, how desperate. There will be time for slow and sweet and lingering but he feels like he’s falling apart right now and Kurt is the only one who can put him back together. He finds the lube and shoves it at Kurt as he traps him between his bent knees, pushing blindly at his shoulder. “Now, now, now.”
Blaine goes boneless at Kurt’s finger inside of him, starts asking for more before he’s halfway in. Kurt seems to get it, though, just kisses the inside of his thigh and adds another, compensating for the stretch with too much lube. Blaine starts tugging him back up after a minute, just far enough to roll them over so he’s straddling Kurt, reaching behind him to grab Kurt’s cock as he tries to sink down and whining when Kurt’s hands on his hips stop him.
“Honey, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Kurt pants, hips twitching up into Blaine’s grip. “You’re not - not stretched, it’s been too long.”
“Don’t care,” Blaine breathes, though he raises up on his knees just enough so Kurt can slip his fingers back in, lets him spread them inside of him for another minute before he’s wiggling away again. “Come on, Kurt, please.” Kurt nods this time, holds himself steady as Blaine sinks down.
Kurt falls back against the mattress when Blaine starts to move, too soon and too hard for both of them, but Blaine whimpers and grabs at his biceps, tries to pull him back up even as he rocks his hips.
“Closer, closer,” he begs, eyes wild and breath catching. “Need you close, stay close.”
“Right here,” Kurt gasps, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s waist. “Not leaving.” He can’t get any leverage like this but he plants his feet, tries to thrust up as much as he can to meet Blaine’s hips, kisses away the tears rolling down Blaine’s cheeks, mouths at the hollow below his ear while he murmurs nonsense to him.
Blaine’s not going to last, not with the way the worry and sorrow and fear have rushed out of him, leaving what feels like a pile of raw nerves in their wake that sparks at every touch from Kurt, and he works himself up and down harder, whines as Kurt drags his teeth along the tendons in his neck.
“Come on,” Kurt urges, keeps one hand on Blaine’s hip to guide him and circles the other around his cock. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” Blaine comes with a cry of Kurt’s name and Kurt follows him over the edge, finally collapsing back and pulling Blaine down with him.
“I want babies,” Blaine says when he catches his breath, voice muddled with sleep. He lifts his head when Kurt starts to shake underneath him.
“You know that’s not how it works, right?” Kurt laughs, rubbing his hands over Blaine’s back and down to where he’s just slipped out of him. “We are missing some vital parts.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Blaine grumbles, smacking his chest as he glares up at Kurt through half-closed eyes. “Babies,” he repeats seriously. “I want them. Soon. I want to find a surrogate.”
“It’s a plan,” Kurt says, lifting his head enough to kiss Blaine’s forehead before dropping back down and sighing as Blaine burrows into his neck. “We should call Dr. Miller.”
“And your dad.”
“Blaine, what’s the rule?”
“No talking about your dad while your dick is out,” Blaine says automatically, kissing Kurt’s neck in apology before he starts giggling again. He feels drunk. “You remember the rules.”
“You obviously don’t,” Kurt says, but there’s nothing mean in his voice, and when Blaine tilts his head he can see Kurt trying to stare down at him. He props himself up on his elbows and nudges their noses together, going a little cross-eyed in his attempt to keep eye contact.
“Put your dick away so we can call your dad,” Blaine says, and Kurt snorts, pushing him off and rolling off the bed.
“Weren’t you begging for my dick fifteen minutes ago?” Kurt asks, throwing Blaine’s boxers at him as he pulls on his own.
“Yes, and I will be in a little while, and vice versa, for the rest of the day,” Blaine laughs, waggling his eyebrows. “But first let’s make everyone else’s day.”
“What was it like?” Blaine murmurs into the dim room. They’d collapsed into bed early, exhausted from a trip to the hospital and so many phone calls. Burt had cried, and Carole had cried, and Finn had wept like a baby before switching into celebration mode, shooing them off the phone so he could start planning a party. (Rachel had tried to come over, had only been dissuaded by the promise of a sleepover at a later date and hung up with a cheery, “Call me when the sex haze clears.”)
“Hmm?” Kurt hums from where his head is pillowed on Blaine’s chest. Blaine runs his fingertips over Kurt’s arm, feels the catch of his sweaty skin as he traces aimless patterns.
“Remembering. What was it like?”
“It was like coming up from underwater,” Kurt says quietly. “I don’t know what I...expected...but it wasn’t that. Nothing flashed before my eyes or anything. It was just like everything came into focus. You looked up at me and you were you but you were him, too, and everyone you’ve been in between. And I just...you’d told me, before, I knew things from stories, but then I knew, and I was just home.”
“I missed you so much,” Blaine breathes. “God, Kurt.”
“I know. I don’t know how you did it. I don’t think...I don’t know if I could’ve done it, if the roles were reversed.” Blaine scoffs at that, pulls Kurt a little closer.
“I would’ve made you happy again,” Blaine says, kissing the top of Kurt’s head. “I know I could have.”
“You could. You did,” Kurt smiles, shifting up the bed until he can lay on the pillow, facing Blaine. “You do. You always will.” His eyes drift closed and Blaine watches his eyelashes flutter in the glow from the street light.
“Thank you for coming back,” Blaine whispers, tilting his head forward to rest against Kurt’s. Kurt’s lips barely move when he answers, already half asleep.
“Thanks for waiting for me.”
-----
Kurt’s already itching to get back to work, panicked over the spring line and the fall runway shows and Blaine is now officially really behind on getting everything ready for the choirs and orchestra and he hasn’t even thought about the fall musical past his good natured arguments with Kurt, but they agree to take one more day off together, still thrumming with adrenaline at their reunion and feeling a bit like newlyweds.
They’re grinning dopily at each other over coffee cups when Kurt bites his bottom lip, staring down into his coffee as he speaks.
“I can’t believe you taught me how to blow you,” he mutters, face going a little red as he shakes his head.
“Well, you - I mean, it was...” Blaine sputters, can feel his cheeks reddening in response; he looks away when Kurt’s eyes snap up.
“Blaine Anderson-Hummel,” he gapes, voice accusing as his eyes widen. “You totally got off on that. Oh my god you giant perv you got off on teaching a teenager how to have sex.”
“You weren’t a teenager!” Blaine says with a huff, throwing his hands up. “And...it was hot, ok? You were all unsure and eager and needy and I got to take care of you and stop laughing at me you jerk.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kurt giggles, not sounding at all sorry and dodging the napkin Blaine throws at him. “It was sweet. And, actually, yeah, looking back it was pretty hot. Maybe I can work on my poker face and we can try it again.” Blaine sputters again when Kurt winks, then levels another glare at Kurt for good measure because he’s still giggling.
They pick at the bowl of fruit between them, toes brushing ankles under the table, and after a while Kurt snorts, fails to pass it off as a cough, and Blaine takes a deep breath, gets ready for whatever Kurt finds funny now.
“The top of the Empire State Building?” he asks, laughter in his voice. “Did you really have to take advantage of my adolescent ‘Sleepless in Seattle’ obsession?”
“I didn’t even think of that,” Blaine insists, slapping a palm to his forehead, because for as well as everything was going, as perfect as it is right now, he never had a plan, was just trying to keep up. “I was just...falling in love with you again. It would’ve been smart, though. I needed all the help I could get.”
“You really didn’t,” Kurt says, eyes fond. They’re quiet again and this time it’s Blaine who breaks the silence, smirking for a second before schooling his face into blankness.
“I’m sorry your memory recovery didn’t live up to the expectations set by General Hospital,” he says solemnly, managing to stay quiet for upwards of five seconds before he laughs loudly and squawking when Kurt leans over the table and pokes him hard in the ribs.
“How long have you been waiting to use that?” Kurt asks, scowling.
“50 days.” They go quiet again, the breath leaving both when they hear it out loud. 49 days of waiting and wondering, another 41 of fear and uncertainty before that. Three months since they’ve been together like this, been able to be them.
“Come on,” Kurt says, standing and offering Blaine his hand. “Shower with me.” Blaine grins as he lets Kurt lead the way, and they’re almost to the bathroom before he says anything.
“Should I find my bathing suit?” He barely dodges the kick Kurt aims at him, slipping into the bathroom with a peal of laughter.
Rachel, to her credit, lasts almost an entire 24 hours before she shows up, bags in one hand and a box tucked under her arm that she hands off to Blaine with a grin.
“Why, pray tell,” Kurt starts, staring intently at a blushing Blaine and slipping an arm around Rachel’s waist as she tucks herself into his side. “Does Rachel have that?”
“I didn’t want you to find them and freak out!” Blaine exclaims as Rachel laughs into Kurt’s shirt.
“Oh, of course,” Kurt smiles, a beatific look that has never meant good things for Blaine. “Wouldn’t want to sully my innocence with sex toys when you could do it yourself.”
“I promise I didn’t look in the box,” Rachel says as Blaine scowls at them. “Much. Purple? Really?” Both men groan and she swings the bags on her arm. “Blaine, sweetie, put those away, I brought dinner.”
The night passes quickly, Kurt and Rachel chatting rapidly as Blaine alternates between paying attention and just watching Kurt talk. It’s late before they manage to leave the kitchen table, drifting toward the bedroom, and Rachel rifles through the bottom drawer of Kurt’s dresser until she uncovers her tank top and shorts, waving them triumphantly. Kurt and Blaine both strip down to t-shirts and boxers, are about to head back out to the living room when Rachel reappears, launching herself onto the bed and patting the mattress on either side of her.
“We’re all sleeping here,” she demands. “Come cuddle me, and stop it with the synchronized eye rolling, it’s weird.” They do as she says, climbing into the bed and settling into the pillows as she does the same, grabbing one of their hands in each of hers.
“We’re going to have babies,” Kurt says around a yawn, and Rachel tightens her grip with a squeal.
“I’m in.”
“Well of course,” Blaine shrugs. “You’re Aunt Rachel.”
“No,” Rachel says firmly. “I’m in. Let me be your surrogate.”
“Rachel--” Kurt starts, but Rachel talks over him.
“No,” she says again. “We have access to my family’s medical history going back five generations and you know I won’t go nuts and try to track the kids down in 16 years because you’re never getting rid of me anyway. And you can be there for every second of the pregnancy and not worry about seeming creepy because I already know how creepy you both are and I want to do this for you.”
“What about the show?” Blaine asks.
“The show is closing,” Rachel says quietly. “Six weeks. I found out in June.”
“Why didn’t you--”
“I think there were more pressing matters to deal with,” Rachel laughs, squeezing their hands again. “I need a break, anyway. Come on. Let me bear your child.”
“You’re sure?” Blaine asks, and when Rachel nods, he looks over her head at Kurt. Kurt raises his eyebrows and Blaine mirrors the action, a grin splitting his face when Kurt speaks.
“Ok.”
Rachel squeals again, kicking her feet against the mattress. Kurt starts rattling off things they need to look into, doctors and in-vitro and he’s talking a mile a minute when Blaine reaches over Rachel to press a hand to his chest.
“I want the first one to be yours,” Blaine says, voice soft but not leaving room for discussion. Kurt looks at him for a moment before nodding with an understanding smile.
“But the next one is yours,” Kurt insists. “Assuming Rachel agrees to another.”
“Why not?” Rachel laughs, throwing her arms in the air. “Assuming there isn’t of a revival of Funny Girl, my uterus is yours.” Kurt and Blaine both lean down to kiss her on the cheek, settling on their sides as the room goes quiet.
“Ya know,” Rachel says after a while, quiet but with a hint of mischief in her voice. “We could just skip the bells and whistles and do this the old-fashioned way.” Kurt looks at her, confused, while Blaine snorts on her other side.
“Climb on up, Kurt,” Rachel giggles, spreading her legs as much as her position between them allows. “I won’t even be offended if you look at Blaine instead of me.”
“You’re both insane and I can’t believe I’m bringing children into the world with you,” Kurt groans, pushing Rachel toward Blaine when he starts to laugh, too. Rachel wiggles her way back to the middle, sighing contentedly as they each reach across her and covering their linked hands with her own.
“Welcome back, Kurt.”
-----
They’re both surprised when Burt doesn’t immediately jump on a plane, but Burt just clears his throat, mumbles something neither can fully understand much of other than “Sure you two have a lot of catching up to do” and Blaine covers the phone when Kurt squawks in indignation because the assumption is a) true and b) a much better alternative to admitting that they’ve been ‘catching up’ for weeks already. He’s been on the receiving end of Burt Hummel’s judgment before; he doesn’t want to go back.
They’ll see Burt the next week, anyway; Finn has a party planned before they can actually finish making phone calls, a “Labor Day slash Kurt’s Homecoming even though he never left but he’s still back, ya know?” affair that everyone is booking flights to attend. Kurt’s practically vibrating with the need to take over planning, but Finn refuses, insists he’s “got this” and has Rachel helping, too, so Kurt shouldn’t worry. Kurt still looks worried.
Their family arrives like a tidal wave the next week, Finn and Burt and Carole and Blaine’s parents and Mercedes and a random assortment of members of New Directions, many of whom Blaine hasn’t seen since the wedding because everyone is busy and spread out and it’s so easy to lose touch until something forces you not to. Their apartment is packed with people and then suddenly, startlingly empty as everyone leaves en masse for hotels and Blaine has whiplash from the sheer amount of activity; it’s difficult to readjust when everything has been so quiet and careful and contained for so long.
Burt and Carole are still in the living room; Kurt’s between them on the sofa, tucked under his dad’s arm while Carole fusses with his sleeves, his collar, anything she can pretend to adjust. Kurt just watches her with the same look of fond exasperation he always has, a decade later and he’s still not used to having a mother, but Blaine can see the unspoken panic in his eyes, She’s going to pill the fabric. He takes pity, sits down on Carole’s other side and draws her attention away; she immediately starts giving his shirt the same treatment, but he doesn’t care as much.
“Good to have ya back, kid,” Burt says, squeezing Kurt’s shoulders. He’s been quiet so far, unsurprisingly so; he’s never been a chatty guy, but his eyes have spoken volumes all day, tracking Kurt through rooms with such tenderness and relief.
“Good to be back, Dad,” Kurt sighs, sinking into his hold a little more and batting at Burt’s leg when he props his foot on the coffee table. “Sorry you had to help me shower.”
“Not the first time I’ve seen you naked,” Burt shrugs. “At least this time you weren’t on top of Blaine.” Blaine can feel Kurt’s eyes narrow even though he can’t see him and covers his eyes with his hand as the room goes silent. He can feel Carole’s shoulders shake next to him and it’s only a second before she breaks, giggling through her hand. Kurt just groans, crossing his arms over his chest as he sulks. Burt jostles him a little with the arm around him shoulders, grinning widely as he repeats the sentiment.
“Good to have ya back.”
It’s clear that Rachel helped more than a little when they arrive at The Foundry. There’s no way Finn ever would have thought to book the same place they got married, probably didn’t even remember its name. And to get the terrace on a holiday weekend with a week’s notice? Definitely an exercise in Rachel Berry name dropping.
The place is packed, friends from Ohio and college and work and everywhere in between. Blaine sees his parents talking to John, excuses himself to join in the conversation just as Jill pulls Kurt into a small group. They spend an hour in different conversations, passing with brushes of hands as they’re shuttled around. Blaine sees Kurt crying at least twice, knows he isn’t used to so much unabashed affection being piled on him, that he still can’t really process it.
Everyone is pleasantly buzzed when Rachel starts gesturing emphatically to them and Blaine rolls his eyes as he tugs Kurt toward her. She passes Kurt a microphone and he immediately hands it off to Blaine, murmurs, “I need a minute, you first.”
“Hey everyone,” Blaine says into the mic, smiling as everyone immediately turns their attention to him. “I’m not the guest of honor, but I’m being asked to vamp for a few minutes, so...I just want to say thank you to everyone. I know I wasn’t great about answering phone calls or replying to emails or...ya know, showering.” Rachel wrinkles her nose in his peripheral vision and he sticks his tongue out. “But I appreciate everything you guys did for us. It’s been a hell of a summer. Let’s never do it again.” Laughter ripples through the crowd and Blaine can feel Kurt take a deep breath; he hands the mic over without looking, keeping his grip on Kurt’s hand.
“I haven’t had a mic all to myself in a while,” Kurt says wryly. “Can I get a spotlight?” More laughter, louder this time, and Kurt breathes again before he starts.
“I was so focused on getting out of Ohio for so long. And then I did it. I had the talent and the drive and the boy,” he squeezes Blaine’s hand. “And I said I was never looking back. But I think I took it for granted - everything I have here, and everything I had there that let me go after it. I’ve...I’ve had so much, for so long now, that I forgot. It’s just...anything can happen. There are heart attacks and rogue taxis but there are failed spy missions and lead singers late to performances. Enemies become friends and friends become family and I got launched head first into a time before I had any of that, and it made me remember to remember how much I love all of you.”
Blaine tightens his grip when Kurt sniffs, hears the sound echo throughout the room as a few people discreetly wipe their eyes.
“Oh god I just went all inspirational. That wasn’t in the plan,” Kurt groans. “My point is, I love all of you, I love you more than I can say,” he says, looking at Blaine. “And don’t text while you’re walking. Oh, also,” he stops, glances at Blaine with a question in his eyes, and Blaine nods. “Since you’re all here, and you need to stop crying...Blaine and I are having babies. Soon.”
“Yeah we are!” Rachel yells, and Kurt closes his eyes as he laughs.
“With Rachel,” Blaine adds, leaning into the mic. “In case that war cry wasn’t clear.”
The crowd whoops and laughs and they’re enveloped, again, but together this time, accepting new rounds of congratulations and answering questions (including an awkward and hilarious ten minutes in which Kurt repeatedly assures Finn that neither of them are actually going to have sex with Rachel, and also that the fact that it would be weird for Finn is the least of their reasons why) and Blaine doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand for the rest of the night.
They go back to work, have been back for a week and a half but it’s real now, with the start of the school year and the slow build to fashion week and so they part each morning with a lingering kiss and an ‘I love you’ before turning in opposite directions down the sidewalk. Blaine isn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe for the world to have undergone some fundamental change in their absence. But it’s the same even though they’re different, and just like that they’re back to the life that has kept going without them.
Blaine beats Kurt home most nights, doesn’t manage to take a full breath until he hears Kurt’s keys in the door and knows he’ll have to work on that, the way his stomach clenches when Kurt is out of his line of sight for too long. He holds Kurt a little too tightly at night, drags Kurt’s arms around him with too much force.
Kurt’s been jumpy, too, in his own way; his doctors had had very little in the way of answers, offered the medical equivalent of a shrug, and Kurt’s never been great with the unknown. He’s only said it once, but Blaine knows it’s always in the back of his mind - if his memory could just come back, couldn’t it theoretically disappear again? He feels it in the shift of Kurt’s body when he wakes in the morning, the momentary held breath as he comes into awareness; Blaine can practically hear Kurt thinking, making sure he still remembers.
They’ll calm down eventually, Blaine’s sure. He’ll stop worrying about losing Kurt and Kurt will stop worrying about losing himself and Rachel will stop bringing groceries and asking Blaine if he’s eaten (which Blaine can’t find it in himself to be annoyed with because he knows that if it wasn’t for Rachel, he physically wouldn’t have made it through those six weeks, knows that this is her anxiety still working itself out). The fear will get duller and foggier and they’ll never forget but they’ll move past it, get on with life.
For now they run a lot. Well, Blaine runs; Kurt’s leg can’t handle the impact, but he starts going to the gym with Blaine to strengthen the still weak right side of his body, and Blaine watches him on the elliptical, mouthing the words to an unheard song and occasionally catching Blaine’s eye across the room. Blaine follows through on his promise and tries yoga. Once. Mostly they run.
There were a lot of promises made in that first week that Kurt really came back, whispered into the air and the pillows and each other’s mouths. Some will be easy to keep (I will love you forever) and some they’ll surely break (We’ll never fight again) because nothing is that easy. Kurt is going to take far too long to get ready and make them late, and Blaine is going to leave his underwear on the bathroom floor, and Fashion Week is scheduled to coincide with tech week for the musical so Blaine knows they’re going to be at each other’s throats that entire week because this has happened before and it’s not pretty.
But they make promises anyway, and plans, and admissions, safe in the dark.
It takes Blaine another week to say what he’s been holding onto since July, and he only manages it then because he’s felt Kurt watching him for a few days, considering; can feel his eyes now even though the street light outside burnt out a few hours ago and it’s pitch black in their bedroom.
“If you’re going to think that loudly, it’s only polite to talk.” Kurt doesn’t ask directly, and Blaine appreciates that because he’s always had a hard time dodging Kurt’s questions, knows this is his way of saying You can tell me, but you don’t have to.
“We were about to pull the plug,” Blaine says in a rush. He’d had a plan for how he was going to approach the matter, and blurting it out like that wasn’t part of the plan. “When you woke up - the next day was supposed to be - I’d signed the papers and...” He chokes on the apology and Kurt’s hand finds his on the mattress, squeezes.
“I know, honey,” he says quietly. Kurt turns onto his side, rolling up onto his elbow and reaching out with his free hand to cup Blaine’s jaw, eyes finding Blaine’s even in the dark. “I know.”
“How?”
“Rachel,” Kurt says simply. “You’ve been so jittery and I knew you’d never tell me everything that was going on up here,” he taps Blaine’s temple lightly. “And I saw how Rachel’s been hovering over you. I asked her for the details the other day at lunch.”
“Oh. I’m sorry I--”
“Stop.” Kurt’s voice is firm and Blaine does as he says, stops. “Whatever you were about to apologize for, don’t, ok? You have nothing to be sorry for.” Blaine nods against his hand, not trusting his voice. “Besides, you’ve always been the one who pushed me to make my deadlines.”
“That’s true,” Blaine sighs, laughing a little at the lightness in his chest now that Kurt knows and doesn’t hate him.
“What did I tell you in high school?” Kurt yawns around the end of the question.
“That you wouldn’t say goodbye,” Blaine answers, pulling at the arm Kurt’s still leaning on until he lays down, sharing Blaine’s pillow.
“Mmhmm. And I promised you in the hospital that I would remember you.” His voice is already fuzzy around the edges as he settles against Blaine, wedging a knee between his and throwing an arm over his waist. “Kurt Anderson-Hummel: Man of His Word. I should get that put on a mug.” He giggles and Blaine can feel the faint puff of breath on his face, can’t help but laugh in response even as he follows Kurt into sleep.
The settlement check arrives, and it’s one to think about it in theory but the reality is a lot of zeroes. Enough zeroes that neither of them want to actually touch the check, that they walk as quickly as they can to the bank because they’ll figure out what to do with it, how to invest it, later, but for now it needs to get out of their hands before Blaine spills wine on it or Kurt accidentally sets it on fire or something equally ridiculous.
Blaine makes a last ditch appeal for the falcon and Kurt waves it off with as much judgement as he had before, and it’s after trips and investments have been discussed that Kurt sighs heavily, props his elbows on the table presses his fingers to his temples like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say.
“We should move.”
Blaine isn’t surprised; he’s been thinking about it, too. They’ve acquired so much stuff in the few years they’ve been here, so much that turning the office into a nursery isn’t really feasible unless a baby can sleep in a piano and Kurt doesn’t look amused by that suggestion.
“We hate moving,” Blaine sighs, his agreement silent in the way he mirrors Kurt’s posture. It’s true. In the time they have lived in New York, they have lived in two apartments: the one Kurt was in when Blaine moved in, and the one they bought after graduation. But Kurt points out the lack of space, how much harder it will be to move with a baby, how nice it would be to have everything ready and perfect.
“Besides,” Kurt shrugs. “We could pay people to move for us now.”
“This is why I married you,” Blaine grins, leaning across the table to press a loud, smacking kiss to his lips, even though he knows Kurt will try to control the packing and moving himself. Kurt opens his laptop while Blaine calls the realtor that sold them the apartment to get it back on the market, and by the end of the week they’ve looked at four prospects.
Rachel’s show wraps and she almost immediately starts “preparing for battle,” as she calls it when Blaine asks her what the frighteningly green concoction in her glass is. There are vitamins and doctor’s appointments and, one day, a very red-faced Kurt coming home from his own appointment (Blaine had offered to accompany him for...inspiration...but Kurt had given him that look that said I am so unimpressed with you right now and whatever, Blaine is funny). All systems seem to be in order, so it’s just a matter of waiting.
They make an offer on a three bedroom, two bath apartment a few blocks away, get an offer on their place a few days later, sign what feels like hundreds of papers, and everyone is so excited about future apartments and babies that no one bothers to realize they will now be adding “moving” to their upcoming Fashion Week/tech week horror extravaganza. Blaine comes home one night to see Kurt standing at his drafting table, pencils stuck over each ear and a half-full box labeled “I Don’t Know” in thick black letters at his feet, staring blankly ahead as he chugs what is likely his eighth or ninth cup of coffee that afternoon, and that’s when they really do call people to take care of the move for them.
Day 1
Rachel shows up on a Saturday morning, too early in general but especially since it’s only their second weekend in the apartment, and it’s the week after the musical closes but before the holiday concerts start, aka the only moment of peace Blaine will have for the foreseeable future. Kurt rolls out of bed to answer the door even though they can hear Rachel letting herself in, ruffling Blaine’s hair before he goes. When he comes back, Rachel is with him and his mouth is twitching the way it does when he’s trying very hard to look serious. Rachel is gripping his hand tightly, shifting from foot to foot.
“Really?” Blaine asks, suddenly alert, because there’s only one reason for them to try so hard not to look happy right now.
“Ready to make good on that fifth diamond?” Kurt asks before he launches himself at Blaine, almost managing to break both of their noses when he jumps onto the bed just as Blaine sits up. They roll around for a minute, laughing and kissing until they’re breathless from both, before they both jump up and close in on Rachel from either side.
Then it’s a day of phone calls and watching Kurt make Rachel drink half a gallon of orange juice at brunch and wondering which of them will be worse during this pregnancy (something Blaine will never, ever discuss out loud because there is no way it can end well). There’s an immediate urge to nest and paint samples swiped onto the nursery walls and in the blink of an eye it’s night and they’re back in bed, overtired in the way that makes them unable to do anything but endlessly talk at each other.
“If you’d told me ten years ago that I would be procreating with Rachel Berry I would’ve told you you were insane,” Kurt murmurs. “You, maybe, sure. But not me.”
“Oh shut up,” Blaine groans, slapping out to his side where he knows Kurt is grinning like an idiot. “You’re not going to be able to use that against me forever.”
“Nah,” Kurt agrees. “In a few years you will have actually made a baby with her, so I’m sure I’ll find new jokes.” He giggles as Blaine pinches him, trying to squirm away, but Blaine catches him around the waist and pulls him back toward the middle of the bed.
“I have to admit,” Blaine says. “Since everything happened I’ve been waiting for you to...not snap, but for you to have some big realization about life and want to go on some kind of adventure while you still had the chance.”
“I did,” Kurt answers simply. “I’ve...we’ve always been happy but when I watched the wedding video that night, I saw how stupidly happy we really are. To be on the outside looking in...that was my big realization once everything came back. We are as happy as two people can get, aren’t we?”
“We are,” Blaine agrees.
“Besides,” Kurt says, covering Blaine’s left hand with his own where it lays on his stomach, slotting their fingers together so their rings line up. “Every day with you is an adventure.”