With You, I Can Breathe (Chapter 10)
A/N: The last chapter. There will be an epilogue up tomorrow, but the boys won’t appear there in person. Their story in this fanfic ends here.
There are a couple of hints and plot seeds planted in this chapter that may get to be developed in a (possible-but-I’m-really-not-sure,-talk-to-my-plot-bunny) sequel. We’ll see.
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CHAPTER 10
“Dude, not cool,” Puck said after Finn finished recounting what his parents told him. It took two hours of Halo 3, a lot of prying and a promise not to tell anyone to get his friend talking about what bothered him.
“Yeah, I know, right? And now I have a problem.”
“You have a problem?”
“Well, yeah. Because what if I say something? Or do something wrong? Burt says we need to be a little sensitive around Blaine right now. But I’m not that good at sensitive, man. And Blaine is cool, I don’t want to hurt him, you know? And Kurt will totally kill me if I do, he likes this guy.”
Puck brightened as he finally understood.
“Let me tell you, you came to the right man. I’ll give you a crash course in after-rape sensitivity. One, don’t touch. No handshakes, no backslapping, no nothing. Keep your distance and you’ll be fine. Two, don’t talk about it unless he wants to. Wait, on second thought, don’t talk about it, period. If he wants to talk, just listen, nod your head and make a compassionate face expression. Or call Kurt. Three, other than one and two, act normal. Don’t panic and don’t look at him like he’s got the plague. Talk about normal things and don’t let him see you’re weirded out. That’s all. Remember these and you’ll do great.”
“Cool! Thanks, man. How come you know so much about it?”
He shrugged dismissively. “I know a girl. She wasn’t really raped, but it was close. She needed someone to talk about it a couple of times. I was there.” He remembered the countless hours spent sitting on the floor in his room, day after hot summer day last year, talking or just being silent together. The tears, the screams, the anger, the despair. Raw. Intense. Gut wrenching. He’ll never forget. He’ll never admit how much it shook him.
Puck waited until Finn’s loud snores confirmed he was finally and fully asleep before he pulled out his phone to write a quick text.
Need to talk. My place, noon. Bring waffles.
Then he scrolled through his contact list until he found this one name.
Santana.
***
When Kurt opened his eyes on Thursday morning, he saw Blaine looking at him with such intensity he felt his insides twist a little. He blinked a couple of times.
“Um, hi. What are you doing?”
“Watching you sleep.” There was a smile in Blaine’s voice, something that Kurt didn’t hear nearly enough lately. “I woke up an hour ago and I’ve been lying here watching you ever since.”
“Okay, creepy. Why?”
“You looked so peaceful. You smiled to your dreams, you know?”
“Yeah, I had a beautiful one.” He smiled sadly at the memory. It was so realistic too…
“Me too. I dreamt you sang to me, an amazing song that I’ll have to find and add to my iPod to listen to when I’m down and you’re not by my side. And then you said you loved me. And I said I loved you too. And then I said I was afraid of physical stuff, and you said you liked romance and Broadway musicals and the touch of the fingertips. And…”
Kurt’s mouth was wide open at this point and he didn’t even care how undignified it had to look.
“It was not a dream.”
“I know. I figured it out when you were sleeping.”
“But… It was not a dream?”
Blaine laughed, the sound bright and happy and so amazing after these last dark days.
“It was not a dream.” He confirmed, quickly leaning in and kissing Kurt’s forehead before smoothing his fingers through his friend’s hair. “I love you.”
Kurt’s breath hitched. As calm as he remembered being in his dream-that-was-not-a-dream, Kurt felt his eyes tear up now. This was huge. This was the first time a boy looked at him like this. The first time a boy touched him like this, just because he wanted to be close to him. The first time a boy said he loved him. And not just any boy. Blaine. Blaine, whom he…
“I love you too.” He’d need time to process it all, because now he just wanted to squeal with delight and flail like a twelve year old girl, but that much he knew for certain. “We’re…”
He wanted to say “in love”, because it was unbelievable and he just needed to hear it, but Blaine finished it for him.
“… together. But without the sexual stuff. For now at least. Like friends with benefits, but the opposite.”
Kurt’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been thinking about it.”
“Since I woke up. I want to be with you. You know, exclusively. I want to say it loud and clear. But… you know. Would it work for you?”
“It’s perfect.”
It really was. They could work through Blaine’s trauma and his own insecurities and fears this way, without worrying that the other expected something more or forcing themselves to do more than they were ready for. Kurt couldn’t wish for a better arrangement for now.
Impulsively, he hugged Blaine tightly before getting up and skipping to his closet to find the perfect outfit for this amazing day.
***
By the time the two boys entered the kitchen, Burt had already been in the garage for two hours. Finn had come back from Puck’s and was sitting at the table, finishing his breakfast. Carole glanced at them with a smile over the pan full of pancakes, then looked up again in surprise. There was something… different about them. Good different, she decided, assessing them covertly with an experienced mother’s eye as they sat down across the table from Finn and started talking to him. It was an easy, relaxed conversation that seemed to reduce his tension considerably. Carole inwardly sighed with relief - her son had been so nervous about messing anything up here that it was almost painful to watch him. It seemed they would be alright after all.
She continued the discreet observation of his step-son and their guest while setting the dishwasher. There wasn’t much that escaped her attention. They were both smiling - real, honest smiles, not the ones they were both so adept at showing to the world to hide their hurt. Blaine’s features were more relaxed than she’d seen them since his last visit before the assault. Kurt was wearing this red sweater he liked so much, and it usually meant he was in a really good mood. And the way they were sitting… Carole gasped, quietly enough not to draw their attention. There was barely any gap between their chairs, and their legs were almost touching under the table. It never happened before, they’ve always kept respectable distance between them.
It wasn’t much to go on, but she was good at body language. She understood instantly that something must have happened, some kind of talk, an admission maybe?
She wasn’t going to say anything yet, not to them, not even to her husband, but silently she wished them all the happiness in the world. Humming happily, she said her goodbyes and drove to work.
***
Kurt’s phone buzzed around one, as he was trying hard not to show he was totally daydreaming while Blaine and Finn discussed some kind of sports stuff. He wasn’t even sure what it was anymore, he zoned out after two minutes and was just doing his best to look interested as he busied himself watching and cataloguing the things he loved about Blaine’s face. The buzzing saved him from the increasing desire to count his boyfriend’s (breathe Kurt, breathe!) eyelashes.
It was a text from Santana. He frowned as he read it.
“Guys, I’ll just step outside for a minute.” They nodded to confirm that they heard him, still engrossed in their conversation.
He grabbed his coat and stepped out the back door. Sure enough, Santana was standing there, Puck by her side.
Kurt looked at them suspiciously.
“What can you two possibly want from me? And why are we meeting in secrecy in my backyard? Are you sure you wanted me and not Finn?”
Puck looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Yeah. Look, Finn told me about Blaine.”
Kurt swore under his breath and threw his hands up.
“Great. And you told Santana, and the rest of the world will know before tomorrow. Excuse me while I go and kill Finn.”
“No, dude, chill.”
“Don’t call me dude.” He was getting angry.
“Okay, man. Look, I only told Santana and we’re not telling anyone else, I swear.”
“Yeah, I won’t even tell Brit and that’s something, because I tell Brit everything,” the brunette chimed in. She’d been silent up till then, looking uncharacteristically pale and tense.
“So what do you want from me?”
“We need details about that guy. As much info as you can get.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s better if you don’t know. Let’s just say…”
It was Santana who finished, her lips an angry thin line, brow furrowed. “… let’s just say we don’t like rapists.”
“Um, okay? Are you saying you’re gonna go kick his ass? Because if you do, I’m totally going with you.”
Puck shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think so. What’s the chance you won’t try to kill him?”
“Pretty slim,” Kurt admitted. He still saw red just thinking about Eric.
“See, it’s a no go. We can’t risk you going to jail. You wouldn’t last a day. Just get all the details you can and send me a text, as soon as you can.” With that, they turned and went back to Puck’s car. Soon they disappeared down the street. Kurt stood there, gaping after them for a while, before he went back inside.
Two hours later Kurt sent a text:
Eric Zane. French major, senior year. Dorm #4, 2nd floor, don’t know the room #. I hope it’ll be worth it. B got a panic attack.
Instantly, his phone buzzed with an answer.
Totally. Promise. Thx.
***
Blaine spent all day watching his beautiful, amazing, supportive boyfriend, as he gathered the courage for what had to be done.
He knew he needed to do it, he’d known it all along. But up until now it was just a distant possibility. A tough obligation to plan and procrastinate about. Now it changed. Now he had motivation to do it as soon as possible.
The assault made him believe there was nothing good waiting for him in life anymore. No love, no joy, no happy ending. Not even a week had passed and here he was, with this breathtaking boy by his side who swore to love him and stand by him through all that he had to deal with now. He still had future that he could believe in and hope for. His dreams of college in a big city (Boston? New York? Washington?), of sharing an apartment with a man he loved, of marriage and maybe even children one day - they were all still valid, except instead of a faceless stranger he could see Kurt in all of them now. He could still have it all. It would be more difficult than before, but it was feasible.
Kurt would love and support him. His only responsibility - a tough, painful, terrifying one - was doing everything he needed to recover. It meant therapy. It meant facing his demons every single day until he vanquished them. It meant confronting the man who did this to him. And the first step to do it was reporting the rape.
In the evening, when they were all sitting in the living room, watching The Pirates of the Carribean half-heartedly while talking about their day and plans for the rest of the week, he decided to breach the subject.
“Mr. Hummel, do you have a moment tomorrow morning? I wanted to ask if you could take me to the police. I’m going to file the report.”
There was a moment of silence as every pair of eyes in the room focused on him. Burt sounded a little choked up as he answered.
“Absolutely. Do you want me to call the officer doctor Miller recommended? The card is in your wallet.”
“Already have. She’ll be at the station up ‘til noon tomorrow.”
“It’s settled then. We’ll go around ten, is that okay?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
When he turned to Kurt, the look of love and pride in his tear-filled eyes nearly blew him away. It was worth every difficult moment he’d have to endure to be all he wanted to be for this boy, but also for himself. For them.
Blaine didn’t sleep well that night. Kurt had to wake him more than once, gently rescuing him from the grip of nightmares. When Friday morning came, he was exhausted, pale and so scared he felt nauseous. It was going to be so painful to remember every single detail, to talk about it to a stranger, that he felt like curling up inside of himself just thinking about it. He really wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. He just wanted it to be over.
Standing in the driveway, Blaine was waiting for Mr. Hummel and trying with all his might not to panic. Suddenly he felt a warm hand sliding into his own. He startled.
“Kurt?” The boy was beside him, his boots and coat on.
“Did you think I’d let you suffer through this alone? I told you, I’m here for you. I’ll be with you every step of this way.” A wave of gratitude washed over Blaine, calming his nerves, as Kurt squeezed his hand. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”
***
Listening to Blaine giving statement, describing everything that happened in minute details, was every bit as painful for Kurt as he’d imagined it would be and more, but he never hesitated, never wavered. His tears might have flown by buckets, but his hand in Blaine’s was a steady presence, giving reassurance and grounding him in the present while his mind had to roam across the horror landscapes of last Friday night.
Fortunately, the female detective recommended by Blaine’s doctor was experienced in these kind of cases, sensitive while practical at the same time, and already familiar with the case after reading her friend’s statement and documentation. He spoke soothingly and allowed breaks when she saw Blaine was breaking down.
Finally, it was over. Detective Pavlova closed the file with a sigh.
“Great. Your statement is exactly what we needed. Along with the other two and documentation of your injuries, it will be more than enough. We’ll get the warrant in a blink and arrest the man before the day is over.”
Blaine was so exhausted and tortured by the whole experience that it was Kurt who caught on first.
“What other two?”
“Yeah, there were more reports filed this morning. Two more boys, a bit older. Their cases aren’t as strong without the medical documentation, but there’s a pattern. It seems we had some help.” The officer took an object out from her drawer and showed it to them.
Kurt’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit… Um, sorry. Who…?”
“No idea. I guess you two don’t know anything about it then?”
Blaine seemed to want to know the same thing, looking at Kurt with shocked amber eyes.
“Hey, it’s not me! Come on! I have no idea what this is!”
Except maybe he had some suspicions.
Before they went back to the car, Kurt excused himself to run to the toilet. Behind closed door he quickly took his phone out of his bag and found the proper number. Puck’s voice was muffled and sleepy when he picked up, but he listened as Kurt explained where he was and what he wanted to know without a word. A beat of silence, then…
“Hummel, I have no idea what you’re on about. Now be kind and go do something gay, I was up all night and need to catch up on my beauty sleep. And say hi to the hobbit.”
He hung up.
Kurt smirked knowingly to himself and maybe did just a tiny bit of victory dance before he went back outside, where he took his boyfriend’s hand and led him to the car, smiling.
***
Burt looked at two boys approaching the car, holding hands - one on them had his own blue-grey eyes and his late wife’s chestnut hair, the other couldn’t look more different, but was as close as a son to him now.
He could see that things have changed between them.
And yes, of course he was worried - they were both so young, so vulnerable… But at the same time they were two of the strongest people he’d ever known. And they were good for each other.
He had a feeling they would be all right.
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End notes: Yes, I know I probably bent the legal procedures a bit again. I’m sorry, it was necessary.
There are a couple of hints and plot seeds planted in this chapter that may get to be developed in a (possible-but-I’m-really-not-sure,-talk-to-my-plot-bunny) sequel. We’ll see.
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CHAPTER 10
“Dude, not cool,” Puck said after Finn finished recounting what his parents told him. It took two hours of Halo 3, a lot of prying and a promise not to tell anyone to get his friend talking about what bothered him.
“Yeah, I know, right? And now I have a problem.”
“You have a problem?”
“Well, yeah. Because what if I say something? Or do something wrong? Burt says we need to be a little sensitive around Blaine right now. But I’m not that good at sensitive, man. And Blaine is cool, I don’t want to hurt him, you know? And Kurt will totally kill me if I do, he likes this guy.”
Puck brightened as he finally understood.
“Let me tell you, you came to the right man. I’ll give you a crash course in after-rape sensitivity. One, don’t touch. No handshakes, no backslapping, no nothing. Keep your distance and you’ll be fine. Two, don’t talk about it unless he wants to. Wait, on second thought, don’t talk about it, period. If he wants to talk, just listen, nod your head and make a compassionate face expression. Or call Kurt. Three, other than one and two, act normal. Don’t panic and don’t look at him like he’s got the plague. Talk about normal things and don’t let him see you’re weirded out. That’s all. Remember these and you’ll do great.”
“Cool! Thanks, man. How come you know so much about it?”
He shrugged dismissively. “I know a girl. She wasn’t really raped, but it was close. She needed someone to talk about it a couple of times. I was there.” He remembered the countless hours spent sitting on the floor in his room, day after hot summer day last year, talking or just being silent together. The tears, the screams, the anger, the despair. Raw. Intense. Gut wrenching. He’ll never forget. He’ll never admit how much it shook him.
Puck waited until Finn’s loud snores confirmed he was finally and fully asleep before he pulled out his phone to write a quick text.
Need to talk. My place, noon. Bring waffles.
Then he scrolled through his contact list until he found this one name.
Santana.
***
When Kurt opened his eyes on Thursday morning, he saw Blaine looking at him with such intensity he felt his insides twist a little. He blinked a couple of times.
“Um, hi. What are you doing?”
“Watching you sleep.” There was a smile in Blaine’s voice, something that Kurt didn’t hear nearly enough lately. “I woke up an hour ago and I’ve been lying here watching you ever since.”
“Okay, creepy. Why?”
“You looked so peaceful. You smiled to your dreams, you know?”
“Yeah, I had a beautiful one.” He smiled sadly at the memory. It was so realistic too…
“Me too. I dreamt you sang to me, an amazing song that I’ll have to find and add to my iPod to listen to when I’m down and you’re not by my side. And then you said you loved me. And I said I loved you too. And then I said I was afraid of physical stuff, and you said you liked romance and Broadway musicals and the touch of the fingertips. And…”
Kurt’s mouth was wide open at this point and he didn’t even care how undignified it had to look.
“It was not a dream.”
“I know. I figured it out when you were sleeping.”
“But… It was not a dream?”
Blaine laughed, the sound bright and happy and so amazing after these last dark days.
“It was not a dream.” He confirmed, quickly leaning in and kissing Kurt’s forehead before smoothing his fingers through his friend’s hair. “I love you.”
Kurt’s breath hitched. As calm as he remembered being in his dream-that-was-not-a-dream, Kurt felt his eyes tear up now. This was huge. This was the first time a boy looked at him like this. The first time a boy touched him like this, just because he wanted to be close to him. The first time a boy said he loved him. And not just any boy. Blaine. Blaine, whom he…
“I love you too.” He’d need time to process it all, because now he just wanted to squeal with delight and flail like a twelve year old girl, but that much he knew for certain. “We’re…”
He wanted to say “in love”, because it was unbelievable and he just needed to hear it, but Blaine finished it for him.
“… together. But without the sexual stuff. For now at least. Like friends with benefits, but the opposite.”
Kurt’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been thinking about it.”
“Since I woke up. I want to be with you. You know, exclusively. I want to say it loud and clear. But… you know. Would it work for you?”
“It’s perfect.”
It really was. They could work through Blaine’s trauma and his own insecurities and fears this way, without worrying that the other expected something more or forcing themselves to do more than they were ready for. Kurt couldn’t wish for a better arrangement for now.
Impulsively, he hugged Blaine tightly before getting up and skipping to his closet to find the perfect outfit for this amazing day.
***
By the time the two boys entered the kitchen, Burt had already been in the garage for two hours. Finn had come back from Puck’s and was sitting at the table, finishing his breakfast. Carole glanced at them with a smile over the pan full of pancakes, then looked up again in surprise. There was something… different about them. Good different, she decided, assessing them covertly with an experienced mother’s eye as they sat down across the table from Finn and started talking to him. It was an easy, relaxed conversation that seemed to reduce his tension considerably. Carole inwardly sighed with relief - her son had been so nervous about messing anything up here that it was almost painful to watch him. It seemed they would be alright after all.
She continued the discreet observation of his step-son and their guest while setting the dishwasher. There wasn’t much that escaped her attention. They were both smiling - real, honest smiles, not the ones they were both so adept at showing to the world to hide their hurt. Blaine’s features were more relaxed than she’d seen them since his last visit before the assault. Kurt was wearing this red sweater he liked so much, and it usually meant he was in a really good mood. And the way they were sitting… Carole gasped, quietly enough not to draw their attention. There was barely any gap between their chairs, and their legs were almost touching under the table. It never happened before, they’ve always kept respectable distance between them.
It wasn’t much to go on, but she was good at body language. She understood instantly that something must have happened, some kind of talk, an admission maybe?
She wasn’t going to say anything yet, not to them, not even to her husband, but silently she wished them all the happiness in the world. Humming happily, she said her goodbyes and drove to work.
***
Kurt’s phone buzzed around one, as he was trying hard not to show he was totally daydreaming while Blaine and Finn discussed some kind of sports stuff. He wasn’t even sure what it was anymore, he zoned out after two minutes and was just doing his best to look interested as he busied himself watching and cataloguing the things he loved about Blaine’s face. The buzzing saved him from the increasing desire to count his boyfriend’s (breathe Kurt, breathe!) eyelashes.
It was a text from Santana. He frowned as he read it.
“Guys, I’ll just step outside for a minute.” They nodded to confirm that they heard him, still engrossed in their conversation.
He grabbed his coat and stepped out the back door. Sure enough, Santana was standing there, Puck by her side.
Kurt looked at them suspiciously.
“What can you two possibly want from me? And why are we meeting in secrecy in my backyard? Are you sure you wanted me and not Finn?”
Puck looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Yeah. Look, Finn told me about Blaine.”
Kurt swore under his breath and threw his hands up.
“Great. And you told Santana, and the rest of the world will know before tomorrow. Excuse me while I go and kill Finn.”
“No, dude, chill.”
“Don’t call me dude.” He was getting angry.
“Okay, man. Look, I only told Santana and we’re not telling anyone else, I swear.”
“Yeah, I won’t even tell Brit and that’s something, because I tell Brit everything,” the brunette chimed in. She’d been silent up till then, looking uncharacteristically pale and tense.
“So what do you want from me?”
“We need details about that guy. As much info as you can get.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s better if you don’t know. Let’s just say…”
It was Santana who finished, her lips an angry thin line, brow furrowed. “… let’s just say we don’t like rapists.”
“Um, okay? Are you saying you’re gonna go kick his ass? Because if you do, I’m totally going with you.”
Puck shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think so. What’s the chance you won’t try to kill him?”
“Pretty slim,” Kurt admitted. He still saw red just thinking about Eric.
“See, it’s a no go. We can’t risk you going to jail. You wouldn’t last a day. Just get all the details you can and send me a text, as soon as you can.” With that, they turned and went back to Puck’s car. Soon they disappeared down the street. Kurt stood there, gaping after them for a while, before he went back inside.
Two hours later Kurt sent a text:
Eric Zane. French major, senior year. Dorm #4, 2nd floor, don’t know the room #. I hope it’ll be worth it. B got a panic attack.
Instantly, his phone buzzed with an answer.
Totally. Promise. Thx.
***
Blaine spent all day watching his beautiful, amazing, supportive boyfriend, as he gathered the courage for what had to be done.
He knew he needed to do it, he’d known it all along. But up until now it was just a distant possibility. A tough obligation to plan and procrastinate about. Now it changed. Now he had motivation to do it as soon as possible.
The assault made him believe there was nothing good waiting for him in life anymore. No love, no joy, no happy ending. Not even a week had passed and here he was, with this breathtaking boy by his side who swore to love him and stand by him through all that he had to deal with now. He still had future that he could believe in and hope for. His dreams of college in a big city (Boston? New York? Washington?), of sharing an apartment with a man he loved, of marriage and maybe even children one day - they were all still valid, except instead of a faceless stranger he could see Kurt in all of them now. He could still have it all. It would be more difficult than before, but it was feasible.
Kurt would love and support him. His only responsibility - a tough, painful, terrifying one - was doing everything he needed to recover. It meant therapy. It meant facing his demons every single day until he vanquished them. It meant confronting the man who did this to him. And the first step to do it was reporting the rape.
In the evening, when they were all sitting in the living room, watching The Pirates of the Carribean half-heartedly while talking about their day and plans for the rest of the week, he decided to breach the subject.
“Mr. Hummel, do you have a moment tomorrow morning? I wanted to ask if you could take me to the police. I’m going to file the report.”
There was a moment of silence as every pair of eyes in the room focused on him. Burt sounded a little choked up as he answered.
“Absolutely. Do you want me to call the officer doctor Miller recommended? The card is in your wallet.”
“Already have. She’ll be at the station up ‘til noon tomorrow.”
“It’s settled then. We’ll go around ten, is that okay?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
When he turned to Kurt, the look of love and pride in his tear-filled eyes nearly blew him away. It was worth every difficult moment he’d have to endure to be all he wanted to be for this boy, but also for himself. For them.
Blaine didn’t sleep well that night. Kurt had to wake him more than once, gently rescuing him from the grip of nightmares. When Friday morning came, he was exhausted, pale and so scared he felt nauseous. It was going to be so painful to remember every single detail, to talk about it to a stranger, that he felt like curling up inside of himself just thinking about it. He really wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. He just wanted it to be over.
Standing in the driveway, Blaine was waiting for Mr. Hummel and trying with all his might not to panic. Suddenly he felt a warm hand sliding into his own. He startled.
“Kurt?” The boy was beside him, his boots and coat on.
“Did you think I’d let you suffer through this alone? I told you, I’m here for you. I’ll be with you every step of this way.” A wave of gratitude washed over Blaine, calming his nerves, as Kurt squeezed his hand. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”
***
Listening to Blaine giving statement, describing everything that happened in minute details, was every bit as painful for Kurt as he’d imagined it would be and more, but he never hesitated, never wavered. His tears might have flown by buckets, but his hand in Blaine’s was a steady presence, giving reassurance and grounding him in the present while his mind had to roam across the horror landscapes of last Friday night.
Fortunately, the female detective recommended by Blaine’s doctor was experienced in these kind of cases, sensitive while practical at the same time, and already familiar with the case after reading her friend’s statement and documentation. He spoke soothingly and allowed breaks when she saw Blaine was breaking down.
Finally, it was over. Detective Pavlova closed the file with a sigh.
“Great. Your statement is exactly what we needed. Along with the other two and documentation of your injuries, it will be more than enough. We’ll get the warrant in a blink and arrest the man before the day is over.”
Blaine was so exhausted and tortured by the whole experience that it was Kurt who caught on first.
“What other two?”
“Yeah, there were more reports filed this morning. Two more boys, a bit older. Their cases aren’t as strong without the medical documentation, but there’s a pattern. It seems we had some help.” The officer took an object out from her drawer and showed it to them.
Kurt’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit… Um, sorry. Who…?”
“No idea. I guess you two don’t know anything about it then?”
Blaine seemed to want to know the same thing, looking at Kurt with shocked amber eyes.
“Hey, it’s not me! Come on! I have no idea what this is!”
Except maybe he had some suspicions.
Before they went back to the car, Kurt excused himself to run to the toilet. Behind closed door he quickly took his phone out of his bag and found the proper number. Puck’s voice was muffled and sleepy when he picked up, but he listened as Kurt explained where he was and what he wanted to know without a word. A beat of silence, then…
“Hummel, I have no idea what you’re on about. Now be kind and go do something gay, I was up all night and need to catch up on my beauty sleep. And say hi to the hobbit.”
He hung up.
Kurt smirked knowingly to himself and maybe did just a tiny bit of victory dance before he went back outside, where he took his boyfriend’s hand and led him to the car, smiling.
***
Burt looked at two boys approaching the car, holding hands - one on them had his own blue-grey eyes and his late wife’s chestnut hair, the other couldn’t look more different, but was as close as a son to him now.
He could see that things have changed between them.
And yes, of course he was worried - they were both so young, so vulnerable… But at the same time they were two of the strongest people he’d ever known. And they were good for each other.
He had a feeling they would be all right.
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End notes: Yes, I know I probably bent the legal procedures a bit again. I’m sorry, it was necessary.