He hears the flurry of knocks first, then a fumbling that he knows is Blaine’s attempt to open the door. The apartment is dark, only the gritty lights filtering in from the night through their windows.
The rescued dentist chair he’s been sitting in still feels cold, even though he’d parked himself there over 30 minutes ago when Blaine had sent him two almost unreadable texts and one slurred voicemail.
Everything feels cold; he pulls the soft cotton of his sweater tighter around his middle before unlocking the door and sliding it open. There’s no way to do it quietly, he can only hope he doesn’t wake Santana and Rachel up. This is going to be hard enough as is, adding their presence, when he knows their opinions will only worsen it.
“Baby!” Blaine trips, steadies himself on the door, then burrows in Kurt’s arms, too-warm face tucked into the curve of his neck. For a moment, he just lets himself hold, cups the back of Blaine’s head; he’s a little sweaty and through the smell of beer, just Blaine, just his compact body that shapes to fit his perfectly.
“Mmmm, smell ‘mazing,” Blaine says, kissing his neck, sloppy hands curling up his body.
“No.” Kurt holds Blaine lightly by the shoulders, keeping a distance between them. “Blaine, you’re drunk.”
Blaine sways slightly, eyes narrowed, and says, “C’mon Kurt.” He shakes it off, and Kurt’s hands, visibly annoyed, and when Kurt steps back and away, it’s with his arms curled protectively around his tightening stomach and his back almost painfully drawn straight. He never really knows who Blaine might be like this – sometimes angry, sometimes sad, occasionally flirtatious and inviting and happy.
“Blaine… you called when you were already coming over. Woke me up actually.”
“You don’ wanna see me?” Blaine’s voice goes up a bit.
“Shhh…” Kurt warns, motioning to the couch “Please don’t wake Santana and Rachel up.”
“Ku-urt.” Blaine sits, pulls him down with too strong hands. “Whoops! Din’… didn’t mean to…”
Kurt untangles himself. “I want you to sleep here. Too late to go home.”
“On…” Blaine mumbles, already tipping his head down. “On th’ couch? But… you...”
Kurt kisses Blaine’s damp forehead, feels his heart curl close and painful inside, “I love you,” he whispers, too low for Blaine to hear, words that hurt on their way out, and wonders if it’s the last time.
Link to fic at AO3 (lj posting limits! Curses!)