This is generally dedicated to all the loyal reviewers who have been asking me to start writing Klaine again. Because the show finally got good enough to offer me a crumb of inspiration. And then Taylor Swift did the rest.

Oh, and a warning for a little bit of sexy times of the fade-to-black variety.

6x07 reaction fic: This (Red) Love

by padfoot

...

The radio plays break-up songs for the whole drive home. They don't make Blaine think of Dave – of his casual affection, his understanding and his forgiveness – they make him think of Kurt. Always, always Kurt.

Of course, home isn't where it used to be. It isn't Blaine's parent's house, full of high-school memorabilia and flashbacks of Kurt on his bed, lying on his stomach with his legs kicked up, smiling at Blaine over his shoulder. And home isn't Dave's place, not now, not anymore.

Home, as it turns out, is the cheapest hotel room Blaine can find on such short notice. It is a one-room cube with a window looking out onto the street, and blank, dark-grey walls. Home is next-door's tinny radio blasting Taylor Swift, making Blaine squeeze his eyes shut in frustration and see nothing but red lights dancing.

Nothing but Kurt.

Kurt and his damn smile, his damn eyes sparkling so bright and so open, offering so many wonderful promises that Blaine, idiot that he is, was so ready to believe.

Kurt and his boyfriend. His boyfriend who Rachel and Sam love, who is smart, sophisticated, fun – improbably, impossibly more youthful than Blaine. Because, after everything that Blaine and Kurt have shared, their connection somehow feels ancient.

It feels to Blaine like he and Kurt are carved in stone, but a stone so tarnished and aged that the truth can barely be made out. Their solid foundations have been flooded and shattered by earthquakes and hacked at by invading armies. They have burned to the ground more than once, and that past thrums through Blaine, making him shiver like a guitar string, on edge and out of tune.

If only loving Kurt wasn't such an ordeal.

He wishes, just once, that things could be easy. No dead birds, no separate schools, no cheating via text or on facebook or in song. No drama that seems to constantly be testing them, an invisible, evil force that is continuously pushing them to the brink and watching them fall. Then watching with just as much savage joy as they crawl back to their feet.

Because Blaine knows in his heart that they'll always get back up again. Because, for him, it is always, always Kurt.

Kurt smiling at him in that ridiculous astronaut hood. Kurt touching his hand, eyes asking, 'really, must you go now?' before following him up the stairs. Kurt flirting and grinning and kissing Blaine back because he did he did he did. Blaine is so sure that he did but that doesn't make sense because somehow things are still so hard.

True love shouldn't be this hard.

Blaine's reflection stares back at him from the small bathroom mirror, dotted with dark green spots of copper rust. His bowtie is still pristine and smooth, and Blaine rips it off in disgust, disgusted with himself for being so damn optimistic. Disgusted with the world for being so damn difficult.

His jacket goes next, thrown onto the floor, and then his shirt and his belt and suddenly Blaine is standing in this tiny box of a bathroom in nothing but an undershirt and a pair of loose slacks and he looks disheveled and cross and small and alone all at once. This wasn't how he'd wanted this day to end.

He goes back to the bedroom and flops onto the bed. Imagines Kurt on his double date, sipping sparkling water and snapping his fingers as he orders more cheesecake. Images the pressure of Kurt's leg next to his on the booth. The comfortable feel of his own hand on Kurt's thigh, making them both sweat and smile and laugh in nervous, scandalous delight when Blaine's hand presses hard down and in and Kurt's words stutter, a nervous blush colouring his neck a perfect, perfect red.

But loving him was red…

Blaine tries to block out the music from next-door. He shifts where he lies, feels his phone creating a lump underneath him and extracts it from his pocket, tossing it onto the sheets beside him. All he wants is for everything to stop, for his head to go quiet and the world to take a break, to stop spinning for a night or two so he can clear his head and work out what to do.

He has to do something, right? He can't just- just… wait.

What if Kurt never comes back to him?

The possibility is painfully real. The past goes against Blaine on this – Kurt has always been the one to find stability and satisfaction somewhere else. Kurt knows how to be without Blaine and still be happy, but Blaine isn't sure he knows how to be without Kurt.

He knew how to be with Dave, but whatever piece of clarity of insanity drove him to do that has disappeared already. It's been barely two hours but already he can't comprehend a world without Kurt, without his voice soft and sultry, his touch confident, cool, sending tingles through Blaine's skin.

Kurt is everything once again, so surely restored to being the pinnacle of Blaine's priorities that it should be frightening if it weren't so natural. If it hadn't happened before, just as fast, just as sudden. Time and time again.

Blaine's phone buzzes, skittering across the sheets to knock against Blaine's side. He picks it up and squints up at its bright screen, trying to make out the words.

'Where are you?'

It's from Kurt.

With a startled grunt, Blaine sits up properly, staring hard at the text, trying to believe what he's seeing.

Without letting himself think too much about it, without letting himself think too much at all, Blaine taps the message and presses 'call'. He raises the phone to his ear, mind buzzing, one hand pressed over his eyes as he waits and waits. And waits.

Finally, Kurt picks up.

"Blaine?" he asks, "Where are you? I swear I've been driving round town like an idiot for the past half hour and I'm starting to worry."

"I'm not at home," Blaine answers, and he can practically hear Kurt rolling his eyes.

"Well I know that. But your parents do say hello and they want you and Dave to come by for dinner sometime next week. Your mother invited me along too, but I thought that might be a little awkward so I politely declined-"

"You're rambling," Blaine interrupts.

Kurt says, "I know. It's because I'm nervous."

"Why are you nervous?"

"Because I've been driving around for half an hour looking for you! You stupid, charming, midnight-kisser."

Blaine blinks, his words – whatever they were going to be – catching in his throat.

"So can you please tell me where you are so I can speak to you in person? Please, Blaine. It's important."

"Okay," Blaine says with a nod. "But first I need to tell you something. Dave and I, we-"

"You broke up. I know. I just didn't have the heart to tell your parents."

"Oh."

"I went by his place first, I assumed you'd be there."

"I'm not living there anymore."

"Evidently, or I would have already found you!"

Blaine laughs but his heart is pounding too hard, his breaths too short and sharp and painful, and Kurt can hear it and he tsks and asks again to know where Blaine is staying. Blaine tells him the address and then Kurt hangs up before they can say anything more. And Blaine is left shaking on the bed, a low, pulsing beat echoing from next door and vibrating through his body.

His voice is a familiar sound, 'Nothing lasts forever,'

But this is getting good now.

His hands numb, Blaine puts his phone down on the bedside table. He didn't bring a bag with him, didn't bring anything, but if he doesn't move now he'll drive himself crazy with waiting.

Pushing himself up off the bed, Blaine has to brace himself against the wall for a second – feels dizzy, perplexed, doesn't know what is real and what isn't. As he walks the couple of paces to the bathroom, sees his clothes on the floor like bright splashes of paint against the black and white tiles, he focuses on picking them up.

He folds his suit jacket and doesn't think about the fact that last night he kissed Kurt, technically cheated again, and was then told by the very boyfriend that he cheated on that his own infidelity was inevitable. He takes his shirt to the closet and fishes out a coat hanger and doesn't try to understand why Kurt – Kurt who he has kissed a thousand times and loved a thousand times and who he knows better than he knows himself – is coming here and now with absolutely no prompting or explanation. He picks up his shoes and lines them up carefully at the end of the bed, sits down and takes off his socks as well and tries his best not to stare at the door.

Then there's the sound of a knock.

"Blaine!" Kurt's voice calls, "Will you please open up?"

Blaine all but races to the door. It is barely five steps away and yet his heart is in his throat when he reaches it. He fumbles with the lock and the handle and he curses under his breath and he can hear Kurt breathing on the other side and it's as if his warmth and electricity is humming through the wood. And then the door is mercifully open and Kurt is somehow immediately there in Blaine's arms and they are kissing and it is like the skies have opened up and swallowed Blaine whole, he is flying.

Kurt sighs Blaine's name against his lips and he groans in response, can feel tears stinging at his eyes and it all makes no sense at all. But Kurt's lips are solid and sure against his and Blaine clutches him closer and tighter, gets a hand onto the base of Kurt's shirt and wrenches. Kurt stumbles a step further forward and Blaine backs up, hears the door slam shut and feels Kurt's hand curl around the back of his neck, fingers gripping desperate and tight and hot.

"God, Kurt, I-"

"I know," Kurt breathes, and Blaine didn't even know what he was going to say but he trusts him, is sure that Kurt really did know when he adds, "Me too."

Blaine's knees end up hitting the side of the bed, and it takes only a second for him to push Kurt's shirt off his shoulders and pull him down onto the sheets. Kurt goes willingly, lithe and light as he shifts his weight on top of Blaine, elbows slamming down to frame Blaine's body as his kisses grow harder and harsher.

Kurt's lips leave Blaine's, moving down to his jawbone, his neck, and Blaine throws his head back, his hands squeezing where they grip onto Kurt's waist.

"I missed you so much," Blaine whispers.

"I know," Kurt says again, getting the words out between kisses, "I can't even describe how much I missed you too, Blaine. It was, I was-"

He breaks off and his kisses stop too, and Blaine looks up. Kurt's head is buried in his neck, his breathes coming out loud where his nose is poking into Blaine's throat. Kurt's cheek is soft and wet against Blaine's collarbone.

"Wait," Blaine says, moving to try to see Kurt better, stroking a hand up his side to settle in his hair, "Are you crying? Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt sniffs a little and laughs a little and eventually looks up, his eyes framed with red and tears on his cheeks.

"I'm just being dumb," Kurt mutters, "We should go back to…" he waves a hand at their general situation and without meaning to Blaine chuckles at the gesture.

But instead of doing what a not insubstantial part of him so wants to do, he pulls further back, and tells Kurt, "No, you're not being dumb. This was all a bit, um, fast."

"Yeah," Kurt agrees. He shrugs a little, slithers over to a more comfortable position on top of Blaine. "When did I lose my shirt?"

Blaine laughs again, licks his lips as the comment draws his gaze to the curve of Kurt's shoulder, the long, flawless plane of his back, the delicious shapes of the muscles in his arms. God, Blaine loves this boy.

"I think I did that," Blaine admits, "It was sort of a priority."

"Fair enough," Kurt preens, but he offers a smile as well and it makes Blaine's heart leap.

They fall silent for a moment, pressed together chest-to-chest, feeling their heartbeats slow down and synchronise. It is all so effortless, this falling back into an achingly familiar rhythm, like turning to run with the wind instead of against it. Blaine feels like he's breathing clean air for the first time in forever, and he sucks in deep breaths, filling his body with the feel and the smell of Kurt, realises for sure that this – this is home.

"I love you," he says, "In case that wasn't clear."

"Message received," Kurt replies with a giggle, "I love you too."

Another minute of silence, and then Kurt rolls off Blaine's chest completely and Blaine instantly misses him, rolls over to keep Kurt in sight, because he will never be sick of seeing this beautiful man by his side.

"I'm not going anywhere," Kurt promises, "I mean, it would be kind of dumb, really, seeing as I came here for you."

"Here to this room?"

"Here to Lima." Kurt looks a little bit abashed as he nods, "Yeah. I wanted to win you back. I'll admit, I didn't foresee the Dave thing, or Sue's meddling, or Artie's spinning wheel of fortune-"

"Which you totally rigged," Blaine cut in, and he grins when Kurt pointedly doesn't deny it.

"-but I promise you, Blaine Anderson, that now that I've got you again, I am not letting you go."

"You're not going to tie me up here or anything, right?" Blaine asks, his tone teasing, "Because I only paid enough to have the room for the night."

"You really didn't plan this in advance, did you?"

"Well, it's not like I planned to sing a duet with you, realise I was still desperately in love, break up with my live-in boyfriend, go running to McKinley with nothing but the clothes on my back to try and win you back, fail at getting you back and then go off somewhere to lick my wounds."

"You know, if you'd actually said you wanted me back, you could've had me two hours ago," Kurt points out.

Blaine smiles, rolling over to hover above Kurt and leaning in close to murmur, "You mean I could have you right now?"

"All of me," Kurt promises, eyes blazing, his body open and bared for Blaine to do with what he wills. "I'm yours Blaine Anderson. As long as you want me."

"Forever," Blaine says, leaning closer, letting the single word wash over Kurt's lips, red and pursed and begging to be kissed.

Kurt's arms close around Blaine's back, fingers pressing into his spine and pulling him closer.

"Forever it is then."

...

"What happened to Walter?" Blaine asks, when the air in the room is thick and hot with sweat, and he and Kurt are curled up comfortably on top of the sheets.

"I left him with Sam and Rachel," Kurt admits, sounding only a little guilty. "They said they'd explain."

"I hope they explain it to me as well then," Blaine frowns, "Because I still don't know for sure what just happened."

Kurt laughs and says, "Well, I have some very useful pamphlets that my Dad gave me after a very dear friend ordered him to give me the sex talk, so they might be able to enlighten you about the thing we just did-"

"I don't mean that!" Blaine snickers, poking Kurt in the side when his laughter doesn't abate, "I fully understood that part of what happened."

"Then what do you need explained to you, Blaine? Because I want to make sure you're with me in this."

Kurt sits up as he speaks, and Blaine, head on pillow, watches him move. Kurt looks so comfortable in his body now, happy to sit on a strange bed in a tiny hotel room buck naked and chat to Blaine about their relationship. It makes Blaine's breath whoosh out of him, his heart thrum, overfilled with delight and far too much love.

"Why now?" Blaine asks, "Why did you do this now?"

"Because you broke up with Dave," Kurt answers with a shrug, "I mean, technically, it was because you kissed me in the elevator. And then because you kissed me outside Rachel's house. And then because you turned up in the choir room in the suit that you proposed to me in, and were clearly very flustered to see that Walter was there."

"So you noticed that, huh?"

"Blaine, I have known you in very intimate, private ways for something like three years. I can tell when you're flustered, and I can tell why."

"Then can you tell me why I'm nervous now? Because I swear I am the happiest man in the world, and yet for some reason my heart is still pounding out of control."

To emphasise the point, Blaine picks up Kurt's hand and pressed it his chest. Their eyes lock as Kurt's palm rests over Blaine's heart, feeling its rapid pulsing, his fingers gentle where they curl against Blaine's skin.

"You're scared," Kurt says quietly, "Scared that this time will be like every other one."

Blaine averts his gaze, staring at a loose thread in the sheets. Has he just forgotten how well Kurt can read him, or is this something new?

"I love you," he murmurs, "but I can't help but wonder what's meant to be different about this time. We have tried so hard to stay together before, Kurt, but somehow it just never works. Somehow, we always find a reason to break up."

"No, somehow I always find a reason."

"Kurt, no, it's not-"

"It is me. I broke up with you for cheating. I broke up with you in New York. And I broke up with you both times because I was angry, and disappointed. I wanted you to be better Blaine, I thought- I thought I could make you be better, or else find someone who was already better."

Blaine eyes are desperate and sad as he says, "Kurt, I can try so much harder, I swear. I will be whoever you want me to, if only you'll-"

"No," Kurt interrupts. "I don't want that anymore."

Blaine stares at him, not understanding. He doesn't think that Kurt knows just how much he loves him, that he was do literally anything for him. Blaine would kill a man, he'd jump off the Empire State Building, he'd run naked through Times Square, if only that would secure him Kurt for the rest of eternity.

"I want you as you are, with all your quirks and scars. I think what the last year has taught me is that I am my best self with you, and you are your best self with me as well, I think. And it's not about being perfect, because nobody ever is, it's just about… about being the very best you can be, and being grateful and loving and true to the people who accept you like that."

"The people who love you like that," Blaine corrects him, and Kurt smiles a soft thank you-smile, settling tenderly on his lips and lighting up his eyes.

"I just needed a little while," Kurt continues, "A while to learn to understand that you have always been the best person you can possibly be when you're with me. And that's not about you being honest, or trusting me, or about us not talking enough or talking too much. It's about me accepting you as someone who isn't set in stone. I don't have to forgive you for the reasons you've given me to dislike you, to break up with you, because I know that you're not that boy anymore from last year, or from three years ago. And I'm not the boy that you did those things to."

"So who am I then?"

Kurt smiles and leans down, pushing a lock of hair off Blaine's forehead and stroking his finger in a tender caress down Blaine's.

"You are Blaine Anderson," Kurt says slowly, "You are the man I love. And you are the person who is really going to need to sort out his sleeping arrangements for the near future, because no matter what, my Dad will not let us share a room in my house."

Blaine grins.

"What if I just snuck into your house every night for the next few months?"

"I think my Dad would notice."

"Not if I was extra careful. I can be stealthy you know, Kurt. Like a ninja."

Kurt snorts with laugher and Blaine pushes him in the side in retaliation. Off-balance, Kurt falls down onto his back, and Blaine takes the chance to roll over on top of him, grabbing Kurt's wrists and pinning them above his head.

"Are you saying I couldn't be a ninja?" Blaine asks, "Because I could totally be a ninja."

"Of course you could," Kurt placates, his smile wide and teasing. "You're ridiculous, do you know that?"

"But you love me anyway," Blaine answers smugly.

He leans down and nudges his nose against Kurt's, making Kurt giggle and his body squirm.

"I do love you," he says, voice a little awed.

Instead of answering, Blaine presses their lips together, kissing Kurt hard. Kurt kisses back, giving as much as he receives, and Blaine lets himself sink down onto the solid warmth f Kurt's body beneath him. He closes his eyes as he leans in to kiss Kurt again, and a Taylor Swift song is still playing next-door.

This love is good this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead

These hands had to let it go free

And this love came back to me.