A/N: I was asked by several people to write an AU of the episode "Bash" with ACITW Kurt and Sebastian. I'm sorry it took some time, but I hope you like it. Warning for angst, anxiety, mention of a hate crime, and discussion of Kurt's injuries consistent with the original episode.

"Liv!" Sebastian barks sharply from the backseat, "can't you drive any fucking faster!?"

"I'm sorry," Olivia says, gritting her teeth and screeching, her voice soaring to an eardrum-shattering register Sebastian has never heard a human hit before when the car in front of her slams to a stop and she nearly rear-ends it. "It's been a while since I've driven in the city, Seb!"

"Well, just…just…urgh!"

Sebastian pounds his fist into the back of her seat and throws himself backward into his own. He puts his hands over his face and breathes in deep, trying to remain calm. He can't panic yet – not when he doesn't know all the details, not when he doesn't know the extent of the damage. He has to hold on a little while longer. He starts counting in his head from zero steadily onward, trying to find something to distract him from the ongoing loop of, "Sebastian Smythe? I'm Dr. Rand. Kurt Hummel has been admitted to the E.R. I'm calling because you're his emergency contact..."

Sebastian had gotten the call while he was at the airport, waiting for Kurt to pick him up. It had been a long-ass flight - three connections, two layovers, and an uncomfortable argument with a 57-year-old businessman from coach who tried to steal Sebastian's seat in first class. After waiting for his boyfriend for over an hour, and with no courtesy call to say that he was running late (which he always did, even if it was only by five minutes) Sebastian actually started cursing Kurt out. He had been away for two weeks and he needed to see Kurt. He needed to touch Kurt and smell him. He needed to kiss him and taste him.

He needed Kurt to make him feel at home again.

The city isn't home for Sebastian. Kurt is.

Sitting in the backseat of his sister's Lexus, weaving treacherously through thick but thankfully steadily moving traffic, Sebastian can't relax, can't clear his mind of the image he's concocted of Kurt lying in the hospital, ambiguously broken, being cut open this very moment, with IV's and tubes sticking into him…

Sebastian shakes his head until his brain spins.

No. Stop. Not yet.

It makes it a thousand times worse that he has no information as to why Kurt ended up in the hospital. The doctor that called told Sebastian that due to patient confidentiality issues they couldn't reveal specific information over the phone, that they would fill him in when he arrived. All they would say was that Kurt was "admitted unconscious and being taken straight to surgery."

Unconscious and straight to surgery. Unconscious and straight to surgery.

What the fuck was Kurt doing that he ended up unconscious and injured? All he fucking had to do was go down to the underground parking lot, get into Sebastian's Mustang, and drive to the airport. Simple. The lot has cameras, security, bright fluorescent lighting. It was about as safe as you could get.

Unless whatever happened to Kurt didn't happen while he was going for the car.

What if he slipped and fell in the bathroom? Didn't some study say the bathroom was the most dangerous room in the house?

Or what if he…

Sebastian swallows hard when the thought enters his head, weeding in among the other exhaustive what if's and coming out on top.

What if the health problems Kurt's father has are genetic, not acquired? What if Kurt has the same coronary disorder, except it hit Kurt early? What if Kurt had a heart attack out of the blue, like his dad did, and now he's in a coma?

What if they didn't catch it in time and he doesn't wake up?

Sebastian doesn't know he's turned white and shaky. He doesn't see himself the way Brian does when his brother-in-law turns in his seat to check on him, hearing Sebastian's anxious whimpers at the thought of Kurt damaged beyond repair. Brian reaches out a hand and puts it on Sebastian's knee, squeezing comfortingly.

"It'll be alright," Brain says, using what Sebastian playfully refers to as Brian's "dad voice", but hearing it now, he has no urge to tease Brian about it. It's soft and soothing, and reminds him so much of his own father's voice that his heart starts to slow in his chest. "Kurt is strong. Whatever happened to him, he'll come out of it. He'll get better. You have to believe that."

Sebastian's automatic reaction is to object. He can't help it. It's in his nature to play devil's advocate. He wants to share his fears with Brian – all his horrible, nightmare-inducing, heart-devouring fears – but if he gives them voice he might give them life, and he can't do that. He has to protect Kurt from his own fears.

He failed at protecting him from anything else.

So the only response he gives is a nod and a stuttering, "O-okay."

Sebastian drops his head back into his hands and holds his breath, knowing he won't breathe normally again until sees Kurt.

A ten-car pile-up on the L.I.E. turns a roughly thirty-nine minute trip into an hour and forty-three minutes of harrowing torture. When they arrive at the hospital, fall-out from that same accident forces them from the ER drop off (where Liv had planned on leaving Sebastian to go find Kurt while she hunted down a parking space) to the roof-top parking lot. From there, it's an elevator ride down to the main lobby, cutting across two different labyrinthal floors, and then back around to the ER. It wastes an unnecessary chunk of time, and with every floor they pass, multiple tension headaches wreak havoc in Sebastian's brain, turning him into a single nerve – raw and frayed. The only way he finds to keep from exploding at everyone he passes who looks at him sideways is to lock his jaw tight and scream inside his head, scream until his skull echoes with the sound, scream until the mental din drowns out the images of Kurt not waking up from surgery.

Sebastian, Olivia, and Brian are forced into a queue of people looking for their relatives from the crash, some of them stymied by their lack of knowledge of the English language. By the time Sebastian makes it to the nurse behind the admissions desk, he's about ready to scream.

"I'm looking for Kurt Hummel," he says, surprised that he manages the whole sentence without it catching in his throat. "My name is Sebastian Smythe. Dr. Rand called me."

The nurse sighs and types the name into her computer – probably the three hundredth name she's typed tonight - then looks up at the three in front of her waiting for a response.

"He just got out of surgery," the nurse informs them. "I'll call a doctor to come out and talk to you."

"Well…can you tell me what room he's in?" Sebastian asks, fingers curling into the counter top, rationality hanging on by less than a thread. "I need to see him."

"I'm sorry," the nurse says without any kind of a smile. "Immediate family only."

Sebastian's jaw drops. He should have anticipated this, but he didn't. On the drive to the hospital, it wasn't a question in his mind that anything would keep him from Kurt. All he needed to do was get here and he would have his boyfriend back. For a split second, he doesn't know what to do. He looks at Olivia and Brian, eyes quietly pleading for help.

"But, I need to see him…" Sebastian repeats, hoping this time will make a difference even if that is the textbook definition of insanity. Hidden from view by the wraparound counter, Brian works quickly, sliding the wedding ring off his finger and handing it covertly to his wife who, with only a brief frown of confusion, slips it on to her brother's left ring finger. Even with his knowledge of law, the arguments he's preparing to make crowding his mouth in the event of a confrontation, Brian knows this tactic will work the fastest. The ring is a half-size too big, but that's okay. That ring wasn't meant for Sebastian anyway.

"Immediate family only," the nurse behind the counter says, already looking past him to the people behind him on line.

"But I'm…"

"…his husband," Liv finishes, slapping her brother's hand on the counter with the ring, off-kilter, shining beneath the waiting room lights. "And I'm his sister." She leaves that statement vague on purpose. What's the likelihood the nurse is going to ask whose sister?

"I'm her husband," Brian adds. "And I'm also a lawyer."

The nurse looks up at the three of them with an overly tired expression, something in her eyes telling Sebastian that she's not entirely buying this, but she probably doesn't have the authority to call him out. Or she just doesn't want to, doesn't have the strength to argue, not with the line behind them heading out the sliding double doors. Besides, she's probably not as uncompassionate as she seems. Who knows how long she's been there? She could be on the fifteenth hour of a twenty-four hour shift. Sebastian doesn't particularly care at the moment. He can sympathize with people he doesn't know some other time, as long as he gets to see Kurt.

"Room 617. ICU."

"Thank you," Sebastian says, sprinting for the elevators with Olivia and Brian trailing behind. "Thank you!"

Sebastian presses the button for the up elevator. It glows red but other than that, nothing happens – no elevator at all, no alert ding, no indication at all that the elevator is coming.

"Fuck!" Sebastian yells.

"Sebastian, calm down," Olivia says, putting a hand to her brother's shoulder. "It'll come. Give it a minute."

Sebastian nods, but he doesn't look any less agitated, eyes darting left and right, turning his head around in search of another, readily available elevator. He presses the button another dozen times, but still nothing.

"Fuck!" he yells again, slamming his fist on the button.

"Sebastian…" Olivia is trying to help, but Brian understands. He remembers when Liv went into labor three weeks early - their baby in distress and Olivia's blood pressure soaring out of control. He had been on Staten Island that afternoon prepping a client. Stuck in the midst of rush hour traffic, it took him over two hours to get back into the city. Even after he knew that Liv was okay, the steps involved in getting to her – walking up from the parking lot, getting checked in, changing into scrubs, waiting for the elevator – had him crawling out of his skin. So when Brian spots the door to the service stairs, he clamps Sebastian on the shoulder hard to get his attention and points. Sebastian sees it and his eyes open wide.

"Thanks, man," he says, jetting off, hitting to door full force and racing up the stairs.

As Sebastian's legs disappear from view behind the door, the elevator dings and the doors open. Olivia looks at the waiting elevator, then at her husband.

"Ten bucks says he gets up there before us," Brian says, ushering his wife inside and pressing the button for the sixth floor.

"617, 617, 617, 617…"

Sebastian chants it over and over so he doesn't, by some bizarre stroke, forget it. It intermingles with the replay of conversations already in progress - Sebastian Smythe? I'm Dr. Rand. Kurt Hummel has been admitted to the E.R. I'm calling because you're his emergency contact…admitted unconscious and being taken straight to surgery...immediate family only…his husband - until it melds into a single mass of sound he can't escape from. Suddenly, all he hears is the noise of overlapping conversations – some recent, some from the past, insults, fights, every time he called Kurt 'princess' in a derogatory way, every time he put him down to his face, every time he made a play for Blaine in front of him…everything he will regret for the rest of his natural life if things go wrong and Kurt dies tonight.

Sebastian's gone from out-of-his-mind to full-fledged train wreck when he finally makes it to the landing for the sixth floor – throat raw from panting, face screwed up from a stitch in his side, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears. Sebastian can't even remember the last time he cried over anything, but thinking of Kurt, he can't seem to stop.

Sebastian pushes the door open with arms that feel rubbery, walking on legs that wobble more than they stay straight. He feels the floor being pulled from beneath his feet, taking him farther and farther away from where he needs to be – farther away from Kurt.

He reaches the nurses' station and without giving it a second thought, he employs his sister's brilliant lie.

"I'm looking for Kurt Hummel in 617? I'm Sebastian Smythe. I'm his husband."

Husband. His husband. Sebastian knows this isn't the time, he knows he shouldn't think about it, but saying it out loud, he has to admit that he likes the sound of it.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, please give me the chance to make that a reality.

The nurse behind the desk – a young woman wearing a bright pink Hawaiian print scrub top and a much more congenial attitude than the nurse downstairs – looks at her computer screen and smiles up at him.

"Kurt Hummel, 617?" she confirms. "Down that hall…" She stands from her chair and leans over the counter, pointing to her left. "Then to your left, about five doors down."

"Thank you." Sebastian tries not to run. There's medical equipment everywhere, organized clutter narrowing the hall, solemn looking visitors lingering in front of closed doors, people who aren't immediate family waiting for news of their loved ones, and in that moment, he can't be more grateful for his quick-thinking sister and brother-in-law.

"609, 611, 613, 615…617…" Sebastian stands outside the door, running his fingers over the etched numbers, taking cleansing breaths and slowing his heart beat before he rushes in. He needs to be calm. He needs to be clear. He needs to not crumble when Kurt sees him.

He needs to be prepared for what Kurt might look like when he opens the door – how badly bruised…or worse.

Sebastian turns the knob and opens the door.

When Sebastian thinks back on this night – when it creeps into his memory and claws him from his sleep - he would like to think that the first thing he looks for is Kurt, but it isn't. He starts at the floor and sweeps up, taking in everything a piece at a time – the gleaming white tile, the drab grey walls, the spare equipment clustered in a corner, the bulky bed in the center, the blue woven blankets on top of stark white sheets…and then there he is. Sebastian sees him. Kurt, lying in bed, eyes closed, absolutely out to the world.

Sebastian is careful not to think dead. Not dead to the world. Not even as an innocent turn-of-phrase.

"Kurt?" Sebastian says softly, hoping his boyfriend will open his eyes and see him standing there, smile at him through cracked lips.

Cracked lips.

Sebastian takes a foot inside the door and the bruises finally register.

Kurt's face is littered with painful looking marks – a black eye, a gash along his cheekbone, a split lip, cuts that have already been closed with stitches. But regardless, he can see Kurt underneath.

"Kurt?" Sebastian says again but louder, clearing his throat, taking another step closer. "Kurt? I'm here, babe. Are you…are you awake?"

"Not yet," a foreign voice answers. Sebastian raises his eyes and a doctor appears – has been there the whole time apparently, but Sebastian didn't notice him. His brain physically did not comprehend him. "Hello," the doctor says, approaching Sebastian with a hand outstretched. "I'm Dr. Emery. And you are…"

"I'm Sebastian," Sebastian says, his tongue heavy, too heavy to speak. "I'm…Kurt's husband." Sebastian raises his hand to show the doctor the ring, feeling ridiculous the second he does it, like he's playing an elaborate game of pretend.

Pretending to be Kurt's husband, pretending to be an adult, pretending he has the strength to handle this.

"It's nice to meet you," Dr. Emery says, shaking Sebastian's hand, then taking a pause and giving Sebastian a chance to ask the inevitable question.

"H-how is he, doctor? Is he…is he going to be okay?"

"He's going to be fine," the doctor says with a solicitous cadence and a smile, as if that's the best fucking news Sebastian has ever heard.

Okay - at this moment it is, but it isn't, because Kurt shouldn't even be here. Kurt shouldn't be in a hospital bed, looking like he was trampled by a rhino.

"He has quite a few nasty injuries," the doctor continues, "but none of them life-threatening. He suffered a mild concussion, he has some minor contusions. He has two cracked ribs and a hairline fracture to the back of the skull, probably caused by a blow to the head by something hard – a rock or a brick, maybe…"

A rock or a brick.

Sebastian's whole body goes numb.

"…by an abrasion to the skin."

Sebastian doesn't catch everything the doctor says when he starts shaking again. He locks his knees to stop it but his body sways. The doctor grabs his elbow.

"Why don't you take a seat," he says, leading Sebastian to Kurt's bedside and pulling up a chair for him. Sebastian drops down into it without looking to see that it's there.

"The police were here earlier. They'll most likely be by later to talk to your husband when he wakes up."

Police – that's a word powerful enough to bring Sebastian to his senses.

"Do they know anything about what happened?" Sebastian stares into Kurt's face – his beautiful, strong, beat-up face – and doesn't take his eyes away.

"I would normally ask you to wait and talk to the police, but I think it's important for you to know…" The doctor moves to the opposite side of Kurt's bed and makes an adjustment to his IV. "They mentioned getting an anonymous call from a witness who claimed to see two men beating up another man in an alley. From the descriptions provided, Kurt intervened, there was a scuffle, the first victim ran off, then the two men jumped into a pickup truck and drove away. Officers suspect that it might have been a hate crime. I don't know if they have any more information, but that's all they're telling us at this time." The doctor picks up a clipboard and jots something down, working swiftly so he can leave the two men alone.

"When will he wake up?" Sebastian barely raises his voice above a whisper.

"Well, he's on a morphine drip for the pain. He can wake up any time, really, but it's probably a good idea to let him get as much rest as possible."

Sebastian doesn't respond. He has nothing left to say, no words to express his shock and his anger. A hate crime. Kurt was the victim of a hate crime. Kurt, the man Sebastian loved more than he loved himself, the one person he would turn the world inside-out for, beaten by thugs in an alley, in an attempt to save another man's life.

A man who ultimately cut and ran, leaving Kurt alone to get beaten, to get broken, to get knocked unconscious by a rock or a brick.

No, there are no words Sebastian can think of to convey just how much he hates humanity, how much everyone and everything that has no direct connection to him can go straight to fucking hell.

"I appreciate everything you've done for him," he says while biting his cheek hard. The doctor pats Sebastian on the back, but Sebastian is stuck. He can't take his eyes off Kurt. He's afraid that if he does, Kurt will slip away.

"His vitals are strong. He has no major swelling in his skull. We'll take some scans in the morning, but I don't foresee any permanent damage," the doctor assures him. "He's very lucky. Your husband's going to be alright."

Lucky. Kurt was trying to save some asshole's life. He became the unintended victim of a hate crime, caught up in a heinous act. He was beaten over the head with a rock or a brick…and he's lucky.

Sebastian starts shutting down. He can't listen anymore. He might have stopped listening after he found out that Kurt was okay, but he didn't, and he kind of regrets it, because now the images in his head become worse. Now he knows that this wasn't a random accident, or the early onset of an unexpected hereditary disease.

There are two men somewhere in the city who tried to kill his boyfriend.

Two men that Sebastian wants to track down and tear to shreds, rip limb from limb with his bare hands.

He can do it, can't he? He has the money. He should be able to use it to find these guys and have them beaten within an inch of their lives - in a dark, filthy back alley with a rock or a brick…the way they did to his Kurt.

He has to be able to do something more than just sit and stare and hope that what the doctor says is true – that there's no permanent damage.

No permanent physical damage. But emotional – there's got to be.

The doctor steps out, and Olivia and Brian step in, with an urgency and a purpose that Sebastian knows they know – that they've been standing in the doorway listening to every word - and he's glad.

There's no way he can open his mouth and say everything the doctor had said.

"The 'rents are coming," Olivia announces in a trembling voice hidden by a mask of false confidence. "They should be here in the morning. Kurt's dad is flying in tonight. Julian's on his way. He's bringing Cooper, but they can wait in the lobby if…"

"I was afraid he might not look like him," Sebastian interrupts. To be honest, he wasn't listening to Olivia much at all. He reaches out a hand to caress Kurt's cheek, afraid to touch him, afraid that he'll break Kurt more. His fingertips get as far as the black and blue beneath his eye and stop, resting on the bed instead. "You know, another guy in our neighborhood got beat up, and the guys who did it mangled his face pretty badly. His name was Ross…no, it was Russ…something…fuck. Kurt would know. Kurt would know because he cares about shit like that. I…I'm a bastard. I don't care."

"Don't say that," Olivia scolds gently. "You would have done the same thing."

"Would I?" Sebastian turns to look up at her, glaring arrows not meant for her. "Because right now, I don't want to just find and kill the guys who beat him up. I want to find the fucking coward he was protecting who ran away and left him." Sebastian shakes his head, turning back to Kurt. "No, that's it. We're going to move," he decides, chewing on the words along with his lower lip. "I'll find some place better. Some place safer."

"You live on the Upper East Side. You don't get much safer than that in the city. What are you going to do, Seb?" Olivia asks quietly. "Are you going to baby-proof all of New York for him? These things happen. It's awful and it sucks and you spend your life praying it doesn't happen to you or someone you…someone you love…" She trips over the word and Brian takes her hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it. "But sometimes it does. Just…be grateful he's going to be okay. Be grateful that it wasn't worse."

"No," Sebastian says, that single word translating his anger, his confusion, his overwhelming sensation of helplessness, his throat tightening around it as if it's strangling him. "I'll…I'll take him somewhere else. I'll get him out of New York. Like Paris."

"Sebastian, do you think they don't have hate crimes in France? Don't you watch the news?"

Sebastian makes a dismissive noise, but he knows his sister's right. He can't escape violence by skipping continents. It'll be there in some form or another no matter where they go. Besides, he can't make that decision for Kurt; he can't force Kurt to leave. Kurt has a life here – a life he's worked hard for, a life he's invested in, heart and soul. He wouldn't up and go because of this. He's made of stronger mettle than that. He'll stand up to it, head on. He always has – Sebastian included.

"I know you're scared, Seb," Olivia says, putting a hand on her brother's shoulder, trying to be stronger for him – for the both of them, "but you should be proud. Your man's a hero."

Sebastian gazes up at his older sister, feeling so much younger and so much more exhausted than he had a few hours ago, a feat he would have thought impossible before this. He smiles as best he can but it falls short of actually being a smile.

"I am," he says. "I am."

It's nearly 2:30 in the morning when Sebastian opens his eyes, realizing with a sudden jolt that he'd fallen asleep. He had been sitting at Kurt's bedside with his boyfriend's hands in his when the stress of the day rushed at him like a wave, washing him away with it. Brian left to check on the kids at home and Olivia stayed, sitting in a chair nearby. Sebastian turns his head to check, his neck stiff and reluctant to move. He finds her sitting upright but fast asleep, her head resting to the side. Beside her, on a cot too short and narrow for his body, lies Brian, who must have returned while they were already out. He feels guilty, the two of them stuck in this cold, depressing hospital room, sleeping apart on uncomfortable furniture and spending the night away from their kids, but he also couldn't be happier that they're there with him.

He'll find a way to make it up to them.

Sebastian sits ups, blinks his eyes, yawns, stretches, looks around, then looks back at Kurt, checking for any change.

And there is one. His eyes are open, and he's watching Sebastian with a shadowy smile on his lips.

Their eyes meet. Sebastian hesitates, thinking he might be dreaming, or hallucinating under the obnoxious blue-tinged lights and the pure oxygen he's convinced the hospital vents in. Kurt lets out a stifled laugh, raspy but high-pitched…and definitely Kurt Hummel.

"Hey," Sebastian says, standing from his seat to kiss Kurt on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Kurt says with another painful-sounding laugh, blowing a kiss to his boyfriend. "I'm sorry I wasn't at the airport to pick you up. I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too. So much," Sebastian says, sitting back in his chair, physically unable to stand any more, regardless of the rest his body somehow managed to impose on him. "I…I…" Sebastian closes his mouth when the right words won't come, his dry tongue sticking to the roof as he chokes back tears. There are dams inside him bursting, great swirling wells of emotion unable to settle or agree on a direction. The one that erupts first, the one that floods him when his mouth opens again, definitely isn't the one he would have chosen, but like many things that have happened that evening, he doesn't get a choice. "I am…so…angry at you, Kurt!" Sebastian says, running his hands through his hair. The raised volume of his voice snaps Olivia and Brian awake. They both startle, mumbling, "What's wrong?" and "What's the matter?", looking on with panic scratched into their exhausted faces. "What were you trying to do, running into the middle of a fight in an alley? Be a fucking superhero?"

It may be a residual effect from the morphine, or it may be the fact that Kurt has known Sebastian, loved Sebastian, for so many years, that he takes this tantrum in his stride, even though he could rightfully be offended since he's the one lying battered in a hospital bed and Sebastian looks ready to bolt.

"I thought you had a thing for superheroes," Kurt teases, his words slurring slightly.

Sebastian makes a sound that's half laugh, half scoff, filled to overflowing with exasperation and disbelief.

"I lied, alright?" he says, bouncing his right leg up and down, fighting the urge to stand and pace. "Stupid selfless do-gooders. I don't need you to be a superhero. I need you to be selfish, Kurt. A selfish, self-centered asshole like me."

"There isn't enough room for two you's in the world, Sebastian," Kurt says, but Sebastian refuses to let Kurt dodge the subject.

He refuses to let Kurt turn the worst night of his life into a punchline.

"Do you remember that first summer at the beach house?" Sebastian asks pointedly, pausing to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "Remember when you said that sometimes you forgot that there were other people in the world? That you were so happy, that no one else existed? Well, you were right, Kurt." Sebastian hiccups as tears fall faster down his cheeks, not caring that they show. "No one else does exist. Just you and me. So, y-you have to stop doing stupid things, risking your life for people who don't matter, Kurt."

Kurt gasps and shakes his head.

"Bas…"

"Don't Bas me, Kurt!" Sebastian yells. "You could have…you might have…"

"But I didn't," Kurt sighs, reaching out for Sebastian's hand. Sebastian reacts automatically and takes it. It's not even a conscious decision. It never is anymore. Sebastian's hand in Kurt's grasp shakes and Kurt holds on tighter – as tight as he can considering the drugs in his system making his muscles feel uncooperative and leaden.

"You should have called 9-1-1, Kurt. You can't…you don't put yourself in danger and make yourself a victim."

"Sebastian…" Kurt tries to cut in, but Sebastian shakes his head vigorously.

"You should have…you should have waited, alright?" Sebastian continues. "If you want to play Captain Hero, you should wait till I'm with you. Dammit, your father would agree with me! He'd say the exact same thing!"

"They could have killed him," Kurt explains. "I couldn't wait, Bas. I couldn't take the chance. The world doesn't stop for me."

"It should stop for you, Kurt," Sebastian says, his voice cracking. "It should fucking bend for you, Kurt. Jesus Christ!"

Sebastian puts his head on Kurt's stomach, gently squeezing Kurt's hands in his. Kurt hisses a bit when Sebastian laces their fingers together, accidentally brushing swollen knuckles. Sebastian jerks, but Kurt grabs hold of Sebastian's hands before he can pull them away.

"Just, don't do that again, Kurt," Sebastian mutters through the woven blanket and muffled sobs. "Don't be stupid and brave and wonderful and stupid again, alright? Babe? Please?"

"I'll think about it," Kurt says, smiling at Olivia, who has her hand covering her mouth, a single finger brushing away a tear. That's all he can say. He can promise Sebastian he won't try to help someone again, but that would be a lie. He can't do that. He can't stand idly by while someone gets beaten, especially considering what he was being beaten for.

And he can't lie to Sebastian.

But that's an argument for another time. He doesn't need to bookmark it, doesn't need to worry that the morphine will wipe it away. He knows Sebastian will remember. He knows it will come up.

Kurt can hardly wait.

Kurt's thumb stops at the ring on Sebastian's finger. He runs the pad of his finger over it, feeling the smooth metal beneath his skin, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Did you…did you get married on your way here?" Kurt asks, coughing when he starts to laugh.

"Yeah," Sebastian says, kissing Kurt's hand, steeling his voice before he speaks again. "You'll like him, too. He's a real ass. You seem to be into that."