Wrapping You In Love VII
Kurt on a mission is a terrifying thing. Not so much in that he collects damage, or hurts people, or blows in like a Grade Four Hurricane, but in that he doesn't let anything stop him.
Nothing. Not even a rejection of epic proportions, a half-hearted crew, or a sleep-deprived boyfriend.
And so, as Kurt's sleep-deprived boyfriend, Blaine spends most of his Saturday following Kurt around the house with a clipboard in hand, helping Kurt keep track of his master plan. He watches Kurt plan a secret send-off for Rachel Berry, make calls to her dads, to their classmates, to Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, try to talk Finn out of joining the army, and basically cancel all the wedding plans behind Rachel's back.
Blaine... mostly crosses off people and things as Kurt completes them. He's the one who suggests that calling Sugar to get the train tickets is probably their best bet (it is), the one who gets all the guys on board by calling Mike up and explaining the situation as best he can (Mike is really, really good at keeping secrets, and is also tight with all the Glee guys, so Blaine has no issues leaving that up to him), and the one who bakes the cookies for a heartbroken Finn and a harried Kurt.
He bakes three batches of cookies that day: two chocolate chip and one peanut butter (because Finn looks like he's going to cry, and Blaine has the best memories of peanut butter cookies).
But Kurt... basically handles the rest by himself. He organizes the girls, the carpooling, and informing Mr. and Mr. Berry of their darling daughter's plans. And then asks them if they can please talk to City Hall about canceling their appointment; don't worry, Kurt has dealt with the flowers, caterers, and band already, he just doesn't have the authority to call off the whole thing. He also manages to get in a couple of words about Finn running off to kill himself, but he stops when Finn just sits there in silence and takes it. That is not like Finn Hudson.
And then it's suppertime and Blaine has to go home. He's on the phone with his mom in one hand, hopping into his shoes with the other. Kurt is standing in the door, supposedly seeing him off, but actually serving as a leaning post as Blaine keeps losing his balance and bumping into him. One graceful hand rests on the doorpost, the other holds his own phone up to his ear.
So their conversation goes like this:
"Ye-yes, Mama, I'm coming - whoa-"
"Wait, I got'cha; no, Mr. Berry, I do not think - sorry, Hiram - no, I don't think it's a good idea for you to offer to watch Barbra's greatest hits with her tonight-"
"Thanks, Kurt - no, Mom, I'm doing up my shoes; I'm trying to get out of the house-"
"No, she'll suspect something's up, you know Rachel - don't I even get a goodbye kiss?"
"Mom, Mom, Mama, it's okay - Dad said it was okay for me to be here; yes, yes, he did - oh, right, sorry, Kurt."
(kiss, kiss, kiss, words in their ears - a worried father, a concerned mother - kiss, kiss, kiss)
Then it's the long drive back, with his phone buzzing in the seat next to him, and he grips the steering wheel with more force than necessary because he cannot check his phone while he's driving, his mom and Kurt will murder him in his sleep. But it's tempting, it's always so tempting, especially when they're racing against the clock like they are and everything has to go perfectly.
He wishes he could stay with Kurt and help out, but all the adults (meaning, college graduates) had agreed Blaine had to go home. It wouldn't do for Kurt and Blaine to get too accustomed with spending nights together. They were only high school boyfriends, they couldn't get too hung up on each other.
The problem is that Kurt is already seared into Blaine's flesh, like a brand or a new limb he wasn't aware of until Kurt had opened his mouth and sung "Blackbird." But there it is, there he is, and separating them isn't going to spare them any pain. It only makes them more determined to come back to one another.
When he pulls into his driveway a good half-hour later, he parks beside his mother's car. He rubs his palms over his eyes, grabs his bag of clothes from the back seat - he's wearing Kurt's shirt and a pair of loose pants from Kurt's sophomore year - and slowly heads for the front door.
Blaine loves weekends, has always loved weekends; even when he boarded at Dalton, weekends were what kept his heart light. He suspects this comes from a long past of weekends being that one time when the whole family was together, and then, after Kurt (his life is divided into acts: Before the Coming Out, After the Fight, Before Sadie Hawkins, After Sadie Hawkins, Before Kurt, After Kurt, the Dalton years, the McKinley years; he wonders if everyone's life is divided in like manner), the time he could spend with his best friend-boyfriend. Even now, when he gets to spend nearly every day with his boyfriend, weekends are special. Weekends are when Mama's home.
Blaine doesn't remember a time when Mama didn't work; Cooper remembers the day she got the job. Blaine watched Mama get busier and busier, leave home for longer and longer, take more and more trips; Cooper left for L.A. just as Mama got her second promotion. The two brothers grew up in two houses as different as Rory Flanagan's and Santana Lopez's; the two brothers were raised in two completely different ways. It's probably why Cooper is so damn confident all the time and Blaine needs a stage to stand on before he feels completely comfortable.
But times have changed now. Mama, smiling, singing, dancing, happy Mama, has a job. It's a job she's always wanted, but it takes her far away from home, keeps her away for weeks at a time sometimes, and for at least nine hours a day when she's in the city. Blaine can count on one hand the number of times Mama managed to watch one of his competitions. Even if Dad doesn't come to them all, he's come to a few, and he's always home to greet him with Thai food and dessert. And since Mama is the music lover and Dad the tone deaf accountant, it hurts more when she isn't in the audience, and means more when there's a fresh carton of chocolate milk in the refrigerator the day of the competition.
It's not that his parents don't love him. He knows that. It's just that Mama loves her job as a real estate agent more than her job as a mother; it's just that Dad understands numbers and bank accounts more than his sons. But as Blaine gets older, he's beginning to see that Dad, for all his discomfort, is beginning to try (and it matters, it matters!), and that Mama, for all her love, is running farther and farther away.
It hurts. But this time next year, he'll be headed for New York. He can take another year of lonely, awkward houses.
He unlocks the front door and slips in with a call of, "I'm home!" He hears the stereo on, playing some soft song he can't quite recognize from where he stands, and smiles. If Mama has the stereo on, then everything's going to be okay.
He moves towards the dining room, where Bill Anderson is frowning at a fork, twisting it this way and that way, the light from the ceiling glinting off the metal in his hand. Blaine stands a few feet away, his clothes tucked under his arm and says, "Did the dishwasher break again?"
Bill starts, turns quick on his heel, almost loses his balance, and has to grab the back of the chair he was standing next to in order to keep upright. Blaine rarely worries about instances like these; he can't remember a day going by where his dad hasn't slipped, tripped or stumbled in some way. He supposes it explains how he can keep up with Mike's dancing one minute, and then miss his seat and land on the floor the next: he's his parents' son.
"Oh, Blaine. Good, you're home." His dad sends him a quick smile, bright and happy; and Blaine knows that Mama must be home if Dad is smiling like that. Then he frowns, eyebrows crunching together. "Uh, what did you say?"
Blaine smiles, and repeats, "Did the dishwasher break down again?"
His dad opens his mouth, but then a happy alto sings out, "No, it's not, Bill; you're just being picky!"
And if Bill frowns and sends a slightly dirty look in the kitchen's general direction, well then, Blaine won't tell on him. It's part of the whole trying to understand each other thing they're developing.
Bill puts down the fork at the place setting that Blaine knows is his mother's, then walks over to Blaine. "Here, pass me those," he instructs, taking Blaine's bag of clothes. "Go say hello to your mother."
It's not exactly an order Blaine wants to disobey, so he doesn't. Instead, he gives his dad a grateful smile, and wanders into the kitchen to find Analynn opening up the oven.
Analynn is petite and bright and lovely. Her hair is black and falls in waves down her back (when she lets it out of the braids and buns she wears for her work), and her eyes are slightly oval-shaped and sparkling brown. She takes after her Filipino mother in size and looks, and her American father in personality, which makes her an absolute delight.
Bill, Cooper, and Blaine all adore her.
Kurt has told Blaine that he shouldn't forgive her as easily as he does, that he should be more careful with his heart, that an absent mother doesn't deserve such devotion. But all Blaine has to do to stop that judgement is ask him what he would do if his mom was alive and less than perfect. Wouldn't he love her just as much as he would if she was perfect? And Kurt... can't really argue with that. There's something about mothers, something about them raising and nursing you that makes it very difficult to hate them.
Especially when they gave up so much of their happiness because they were half-Filipino, and married a man whose job took priority for a good twelve years, and then had a son who demanded all their attention. Could Blaine really blame her for taking the opportunity for some spark of personal happiness, especially when her biggest responsibility is perfectly content to be babysat by his cool older brother? No. Of course not.
But what her busy schedule has done is made those nights where she is home even more precious; they are special and to be cherished. So Blaine hugs his mom, helps get everything to the table, sits down with her and his dad, and cheerfully tells her about everything that Kurt is doing. He compliments her on the chicken, doesn't flinch when Bill mentions his co-worker's daughter (Blaine has learned that it's not so much that he wants his son to be straight, as he doesn't know what else to talk about. Cooper loved hearing about the daughters. Blaine couldn't care less about the daughters or the sons), and even takes a second helping of dessert.
But after supper, once everything is put away, both of his parents begin to question how much sleep Blaine got last night. Analynn's eyes are bright with mischief, Bill's shoulders high with discomfort; and somehow they manage to learn that Blaine really only got about an hour or two of sleep last night because he and Kurt were planning Rachel's Top Secret Send-Off (Kurt's plan, Blaine's name). And then, with a kind of responsibility and care that he wishes they'd show all the time, they confiscate his cell and hustle him off to bed.
Blaine's asleep by eight o'clock.
'Course, he's up by seven o'clock because the wedding's set for eleven o'clock and everyone is supposed to be at City Hall by ten. He wakes up, shuffles out of bed and towards his bathroom, showers, gels his hair back into submission, and goes to find his clothes. What he's looking for is something appropriate to wear while you ship one of your best friends off to where she belongs, while also being something that will cheer up your downtrodden boyfriend.
What he finds is a lobster cardigan he and Mike discovered in their shopping trip from last week. It's soft and warm, and a touch ridiculous, but Blaine loves it. It's exactly what he's looking for.
By the time he gets downstairs, his mom is on her cellphone, frowning at whatever the person on the other end is telling her. Blaine gives her a smile, finds his cell in the centre of the table, and turns it on. While it returns to life, he slips past his mom into the kitchen and starts rummaging through the cupboards until he finds his cereal. He grabs a bowl, a glass of orange juice (it worries his mom to see him drink coffee, and his genetics has dictated he takes the same kind as his father, which worries Blaine), and a spoon before perching on the counter to munch it down.
As he eats, he checks his phone, which has another reminder from Rachel to be at City Hall in time (he responds with a cheery: Don't worry, Rachel! I know what to do!), a text from Kurt telling him to pick him up at nine o'clock sharp, and a voice mail message from Cooper.
Curiosity bites.
"Blainey! What are you doing asleep; it's like, seven o'clock! Whatever; hey! Called to congratulate you on your first day as a senior - now you finally match up to the way you dress. And, uh, tell the parentals that I'm fine - filming's going excellente - and Kurt that he's great; NYADA won't know what hit them! And uh, yeah. See ya', squirt!"
Blaine stares down at his phone for a good minute before he realizes he's wearing a fond smile. When he was a kid, Cooper was the coolest. When he was going through hell, he just wished Cooper would grow up. Now that he's practically an adult, he knows Cooper will never grow up, but that there's a certain amount of charm in that too. Blaine is perfectly all right trying to corral Coop, as long as Coop is willing to stay on Blaine's side.
He texts Kurt - it's eight o'clock - and lets him know that he will be there, please don't worry. But he has at least half-an-hour before he has to leave, so he puts his empty bowl away in the dishwasher, walks back into the dining room where his mom has files and papers laid all over the table, and sneaks into the living room. He decides to watch some TV, finds a re-run of "'Till Debt Do Us Part", and lets that distract him for a good twenty minutes. His phone keeps buzzing throughout it; Sugar asking if they're supposed to bring gifts, Artie asking if anybody's hanging out after, Mercedes asking if Kurt's doing as well as he sounds, Tina asking if they were supposed to prepare any music, Puckerman asking if anybody has any idea of what to do with Finn afterwards, Santana asking if they're preparing a send-off for her too...
To tell the truth, Blaine doesn't really get to watch much of his show.
But then it's time to leave, so he turns off the television, wanders into the kitchen where his mom is now stirring up a cup of coffee and muttering to herself. He stands in the doorway, looks at her for a long moment, and is only moved by the heavy feel of his phone in his pocket.
"Mama?" he says, gently so as not to scare her. She turns her head, falling quiet immediately. He smiles, says, "I'm going now."
Her body relaxes, and her mouth spreads into a warm, soft smile. She takes the spoon out, tapping it against the side of her mug three times, then places it on the counter before she turns and walks over to him. She cups his face in her hands, forces his head to bow the couple inches so she can easily plant a kiss on his forehead, and rests her forehead against his for a moment. Blaine doesn't breathe, just focuses on the warmth of her, trying to keep the scent of her in his nose before she leaves for another meeting.
"My good boy," she whispers, and it makes his heart thump hard in his chest, like a puppy's tail against the floor. She leans back, releases his face, and says, "Let Kurt I'm thinking of him. Maybe we can all do a shopping trip when I get back next week."
Blaine grins, remembering the last time Kurt and his mom went shopping together (Blaine held the bags and obeyed orders). "All right. Love you."
"Love you too," she says easily; and then her phone rings from the counter near her coffee, and her smile freezes and shatters like thin ice. "Ugh, leave me alone," she grumbles as she turns back to it.
Blaine lets her go, then leaves himself. He knows his dad will sleep in as long as he can. Bill Anderson loves Sundays.
He spends the trip to Kurt's house singing along to the Les Miserables soundtrack. Kurt's song from the other night hit him hard and he can't get the song out of his head. It's far too much like when Kurt sang "Blackbird", and Blaine listened to "The White Album" on repeat for three days. Sometimes music is the only way life makes sense for Blaine.
But when he pulls up to the Hudmels' driveway, Kurt is sitting on the front steps, head hunched over his phone. Blaine doesn't even turn off the engine before Kurt's head pops up, his face relaxing like Blaine is exactly what he needed to see (and that makes Blaine's heart do a small flip), and then he's up on his feet and walking towards Blaine's car. He opens the door, starts at the music, smiles in surprised happiness at it, then says, "Okay. We've got to get to the train station before anybody else."
Blaine just sends him a smile and says, "Good morning to you too. No hello kiss?"
Kurt huffs, rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion, but his lips are curled upwards when he pecks Blaine on the lips. It's all they feel comfortable doing in the car in the driveway, but it's enough to make butterflies flutter in his stomach. Kurt pulls away, his face pleasantly flushed. He says, "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"
Blaine sighs, puts his car in reverse and twists in his seat before placing his hand behind Kurt's headrest so he can see where he's going. "Like a rock. I don't even think I dreamed I was so tired. You?" he asks, pulling out into the road and shifting gears.
There's a shifting motion in the seat beside him. "Oh, fine," Kurt says in that voice he uses when he's trying to hide something.
Blaine glances over and says, "Kurt. Did you get any sleep at all?"
Kurt shrugs, face pinched and shoulders stiff. "Some."
"Kurt," Blaine says, and his guts feel heavy with guilt. What was he doing sleeping when Kurt needed him?
"Blaine." And there's a soft hand resting on his arm; Blaine glances down at it. "It's fine," Kurt continues, his voice soft. "There was so much to do, and no time to do it, and I'm glad you got some sleep. Dad wasn't going to let either of us drive if you hadn't, so." Blaine catches his shrug from the corner of his eye. "This is better."
Blaine isn't in agreement; in a perfect world, they both would've gotten some sleep. But then again, in a perfect world, there'd be no homophobia, so... there.
The drive there is quick, twenty minutes, and no one is there yet. They've asked everyone to be ready for nine-forty, so this is fine. Blaine parks, Kurt starts typing again on his phone, and Blaine eyes the small coffee shop by the station.
"Did you want some coffee?" he asks, squinting against the sunlight. Kurt's hair seems to glow in the light.
The answering smile is quick and warm. "Yes, please." And then he finds a seat on one of the benches and keeps typing away.
Blaine goes and gets the coffee: their usual medium drip and grande non-fat mocha. There are days when they try something different, preparing themselves for a bigger, grander world. But today is not one of those days.
When he gets back, he hands Kurt's drink to him, and a banana muffin. Kurt sends him a strange look accompanied with a smile, and Blaine gives him an easy shrug. "You looked hungry," he explains. "And they looked good."
Kurt just shakes his head, but hums out a simple, "I love you," before picking off a piece of the muffin and popping it into his mouth.
Blaine beams under these words - Kurt so rarely says them first. He shows it more than Blaine does, in little actions and deeds, and he's quick to return it, but he's more careful with his words than Blaine. So when he does gift Blaine with them for no apparent reason, it just makes Blaine blossom like a flower in mid-spring.
One by one, Kurt and Blaine greet the rest of the New Directions; and each of them either give Kurt a hug or fist bump or shoulder pat as if to express their grief. Santana sits on Kurt's other side, complaining loudly about Berry taking up all the attention again, and Brittany plops herself down on Blaine's lap and folds up the muffin wrapper into an origami squirrel before presenting it to Blaine because "lobsters and squirrels mate for life." Tina and Mike huddle in the seat next to them, and Blaine and Mike manage to set a new date for their Footloose marathon. Puckerman shows up with Artie and Sam, and the three of them discuss possible busking locations for the summer, while Mercedes and Quinn talk about looking for apartments versus dorm rooms. Joe, Rory and Sugar sit on the stairs and chat amongst themselves, and when Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury arrive, they join in with whatever they're talking about.
And then it's nine fifty, and Rachel and Finn should be here as Rachel's train leaves in ten minutes. Blaine watches Kurt get more and more tense, his leg hopping up and down, eyes narrowing, lips thinning. He lays a hand on Kurt's knee, sends him a calming smile and whispers, "Finn'll do his part; don't worry."
And then, right when other passengers are filing on the train and conductors are staring at them, Puck calls out, "Here they come!" and everyone stands and starts for them.
Blaine stays on the platform, near Kurt, and watches a clearly depressed but steadfast Finn carry a blubbering Rachel's suitcase. And Rachel is prim and perfect and crying and singing under her breath like it's filling her with courage (and maybe it is), and then she's in front of Blaine and he's hugging her.
"Go be a star, Rachel," he whispers in her ear, and she gasps a small, choking laugh before she turns to hug Kurt.
He doesn't know what Kurt says to her, only that it makes Kurt's eyes water, and that when she pulls away, she has new tears streaming down her cheeks. And then Finn is leading her to the train, and he's putting her on, and she's still crying, and then...
Then she's gone, gone in a cloud of smoke and screaming gears and cheers and waves and cries of "Good luck!"
And then it's just them, the leftovers, standing on a platform with no train to watch.
Mercedes (of course) breaks the silence. "Well, that was anticlimactic."
Blaine shrugs. "Real life usually is," he says; and it's true. People build things up to a point where the expectation overtakes the reality. Like in 500 Days of Summer.
Mike nods beside him, and from the corner of Blaine's eye he sees Santana and Puckerman sharing an eyeroll.
"I guess it's time to go home," Quinn says quietly. And everyone just looks around, like they're not quite sure how to do that.
Puckerman walks over, slings an arm over Finn's shoulder and says, "Wanna watch porn and play Halo with me and the guys?"
Kurt wrinkles his nose and says, "Ew!" Santana cackles and says, "Wanky!" Brittany blinks and says, "Angels watch porn?" Quinn rolls her eyes, Mercedes shoots Sam a look, Tina presses her head into Mike's shoulder, Mr. Schue frowns and says, "That's not appropriate, Noah."
Finn turns his head, gives Puckerman a small smile and says, "Yeah. That sounds good."
Puckerman nods, says, "Sweet. Abrams, Evans, Teen-Jesus, Lucky Charms: you in?"
Artie raises his hand and says, "Duh."
Sam cringes under Mercedes's look and doesn't say a word, but Blaine knows that he'll be with them by the end of the night. Rory and Joe look so surprised to be included, they don't say anything.
Kurt touches Blaine's elbow, just gently enough to catch his attention. "Did you want to stay?" he asks quietly.
Blaine blinks at him and says, "Not if the alternative was spending time with you." For that, he gets true blue eyes and a bright smile.
Kurt bumps him gently, arm pressing against arm. His shoe kicks lightly at Blaine's leg and then his mouth near Blaine's ear, whispering, "Can we leave then?"
Blaine smiles, says, "Sure," and then takes his hand, ready to lead him away.
But then Mr. Schue reaches out and says, "Kurt, can I talk to you for a minute?"
Kurt's eyes widen, and he glances over at Blaine, who shrugs. Like he knows what Mr. Schue wants to talk to Kurt about. Mr. Schue isn't exactly the guru to Kurt and Blaine like he is to the rest of the Glee guys. Which doesn't make him a bad guy so much as it makes him a normal guy.
Kurt sighs softly, and says, "Wait for me in the car?"
Blaine nods, gives Kurt's hand a good squeeze before he lets him go. He listens to their murmurs get quieter and quieter as he goes down the stairs, and he watches Sugar talk at Rory. Probably giving him instructions on what he can and cannot do with the guys. Quinn is talking quietly to Santana and Brittany, whose pinkies are linked like usual, and Ms. Pillsbury is speaking quietly to Mike and Tina. Blaine nods to those who nod to him, and slowly makes his way to his car.
Once there, he turns on the radio, which starts playing "Pumped Up Kicks", and leans back in his seat, prepared to wait a good ten, fifteen minutes. So he's surprised when Kurt opens the door not three minutes later, sliding into the passenger's seat like everything's fine.
"Oh, God." Except, it's clearly not.
Blaine opens his eyes, and turns his head so it's still against the headrest, but he can clearly see Kurt. "What?"
Kurt swallows, closes his eyes. "Mr. Schue just offered me a position as a TA. If I'm still here in September."
Blaine mulls that over for a moment. While it's definitely not what Kurt wants, it's not a bad idea. It'll at least give him something to do, something to keep him from deciding to do something desperate because there's nothing else to do. Which is what he tells Kurt.
He gets an icy-blue glare for it. "You don't think I'm going to have a plan by then?" he snaps, voice overly loud, using annoyance to compensate for his fear.
Blaine sighs, shakes his head. "I didn't say that. It's just not a bad idea as a back-up plan, that's all." He watches Kurt's tense posture, says, "It'd only be temporary, Kurt."
Kurt stays stiff and narrowed eyed, arms crossed over his chest. "I think it's a horrible idea."
"Then come up with a better plan," Blaine says, a note of annoyance in his voice. He can't really be blamed for it though; Kurt's the most stubborn boy he knows. Kurt shoots him a cold look, and Blaine raises his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying!" He watches Kurt's face, sees the sadness and the fear, the worry that he'll be a Lima Loser, and surrenders. "You know I'll help you, Kurt," he adds in a softer voice.
Kurt watches him with unreadable eyes for a long moment before sighing, all tenseness leaving him. "I know." He reaches over for Blaine's hand, and Blaine lets him take it. Kurt plays with his fingers, bending them, spreading them out. "Did I tell you I like your cardigan?" he asks quietly.
Blaine smiles, feels his worry melt. "No, you didn't."
"Oh." Kurt looks up at Blaine from through his eyelashes and Blaine's stomach twists. "Well, I do."
Blaine's smile might be a little strained because of that look, but he doesn't have a lot of blood flowing to his brain right now. "Uh, thanks," he mutters; and Kurt's answering smile is soft and real. But it's also tinged in sadness, and it shakes Blaine up. "Kurt?” he asks quietly. "Are you really okay?"
Kurt stills, sits up, shrugs his shoulders carefully. "Honestly? No. Not at all. I mean, I could forget for a while, focus on Rachel, but now..." He sighs, long and sad. "Now I have a full summer with no plans, nothing to do..." He casts a long look at Blaine, attempts a cheeky smile. "Well, except you."
Blaine doesn't let how that affects him show, and pokes Kurt in the side instead. "I'm serious, Kurt."
Kurt sobers up, nods slowly. "I know. And I... I'm not okay. But I think... I think if I have you, and Dad, and Carole, then... Maybe I'll make it. It's not what I was expecting, but..." And he turns his head and looks at Blaine with a huge deepness in his eyes.
Blaine lets him stare into his very soul for a good minute, some song playing softly in the background. "Kurt?" he prompts after he can't wait any longer.
And Kurt smiles, looking like the boy who sang on stage with Blaine over a year ago, like the boy Blaine was just learning as a boyfriend, the boy who looked at Blaine like he was his most favourite present ever. And, as if Kurt can read his mind, he softly sings, "But I think I'll be all right."
Blaine's heart rises, and he reaches out to take Kurt's hand in his. They stare at each other for a long moment, before he says, "I love you."
Kurt smiles, bright and happy like the first time Blaine said it. "I love you too."
"And I'm going to do whatever I can to make you happy this summer," Blaine continues, because it's true. He is. That's a boyfriend's duty.
Kurt softens, looks at him with hearts in his eyes, then sits up tall. "All right then. First things first, I need a nap."
Blaine grins, reaches out to turn the engine on. "I'm an excellent cuddle buddy," he informs Kurt grandly.
"Wonderful," Kurt responds. "That's just what I need."
And then he reaches over, kissing Blaine on the cheek, and Blaine thinks, We're gonna be just fine.