"If you could work for anyone or anything in the world, what would it be?" asked Blaine, resting his chin in his hands as he smiled softly across the table at Kurt.

"Ooh, that's a deep question for a Sunday morning," chuckled Kurt, cupping his take-away coffee cup in his hands. The coffee shop that Blaine had dragged a slightly bleary-eyed Kurt and an excitable Matthew to that morning was small and cosy with dark red walls and comfy chairs.

"Tell me," requested Blaine with an exaggerated eyelash flutter.

"Okay," laughed Kurt, taking a sip of his mocha. "I guess...I'd love to work in Fashion, maybe Vogue."

"Fashion?" repeated Blaine with a wide grin. "Do you design?"

"A little," shrugged Kurt.

"I guess I should have known," sighed Blaine with a smile. "You always dress so impeccably."

Kurt blushed a little, "I try."

"Dada!" demanded Matthew from where he was sat in a wooden highchair, gnawing on a crayon.

"That's a masterpiece, my darling," praised Kurt, examining his son's drawing with a bemused smile. "Look, Blaine, I think it's you." He gestured to the large swirly curls covering the majority of the page.

"Ha ha," deadpanned Blaine with a pout, reaching up to cover his mostly tamed curls.

"I love your curls," said Kurt softly, pulling Blaine's hands away from his head. Blaine smiled brilliantly at Kurt, not letting go of the other man's hands, resting them on the table.

"Oh, uhm, I meant to ask," said Blaine suddenly, clearing his throat and fidgeting a little. "Are you free next weekend?"

"Yes, I think so," nodded Kurt. "I was just planning to go and buy some new work shoes, my current ones are wearing through at the sole."

"I was wondering-hoping...you would accompany to my brother's wedding." Blaine pressed his lips together, watching Kurt's face closely for his reaction.

"Really?" asked Kurt quietly, mouth forming a small 'o'.

"Yeah," nodded Blaine. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather take...and Leo and Coop are both dying to meet you...so..."

"I'd love to," said Kurt, barely containing his delighted smile. Blaine opened his mouth to speak but Kurt cut him off with a gasp. "But Blaine! That leaves me with less than a week to find an outfit! Oh my God, okay..."

Blaine smiled fondly at the man across the table as he ran through the pros and cons of his favourite formal ensemble.

Kurt hummed quietly to himself as he washed his plate from dinner, standing it up in the drying rack as the doorbell chimed loudly.

"Coming!" he called, drying his hands on a tea towel and hoping the bell hadn't woken Matthew up, having only just put him to bed. Blaine knew to knock just in case, so he ruled out that possibility with a small pout. It was probably someone trying to sell something.

He opened the door which flew open as soon as Kurt twisted the handle.

Kurt wished his reactions had been quicker so that he could have slammed the door closed again as soon as he saw who was standing outside.

"Hey, beautiful," leered the man now stumbling into his flat, his words slurring slightly.

"What are you doing here?" cried Kurt desperately, mind set into a state of panic.

"Why'd you gotta be such a bitch, huh?" Nathan swung his hand up to grip Kurt's face, forcing him "Let me go!" screamed Kurt, pulling at the stronger man's hand.

Nathan kicked the front door closed behind him and lurched at Kurt, trying to press himself against the other man. Kurt squirmed to get away, the stench of alcohol overpowering on Nathan's breath.

"Stop," growled Nathan, grabbing Kurt's hair with a fist.

"No, no, leave me alone," whimpered Kurt. Why had he come back? Why did he have to ruin everything when life was finally looking up?

"Shut up!" yelled Nathan, pulling at Kurt's hair before using his grip to bash Kurt's head against the wall, twisting Kurt's arm behind his back.

Kurt screamed in pain as he heard a sickening crack echo through his flat.

"L-leave me alone!" Kurt repeated, feeling dizzy and sick as white burning heat seized his arm.

"You'd be nothing without me," muttered Nathan into his ear. "You're worthless and you're gonna die alone."

Kurt gasped in a breath, slumping to the floor as Nathan let go of him.

He heard a soft cry from the bedroom and Kurt snapped his head up.

"No," he breathed, his pounding head only registering one thing. Protect his son.

He pushed passed the drunkenly stumbling man, practically falling into the bedroom before slamming the door behind him and locking it.

Safe.

For now. There was a bash against the door.

Kurt picked up Matthew from his cot with the arm that wasn't dangling uselessly at his side, sending flashing pulses of pain through his body, and cradled him to his chest before sinking down into the corner.

"Shh, shh," soothed Kurt to his crying son, rocking him slightly. He settled the boy in his lap before fumbling clumsily for his phone. He took a deep breath and dialled three numbers, pressing the phone to his ear with a shaking hand. This was for Matthew. He needed his son to be safe.

"Which service do you require?" came a clear female voice.

"Police," breathed Kurt into the phone. "P-please," he begged.

Blaine yawned and stretched, standing up from the sofa and rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. Picking up his phone he sent a quick goodnight text to Kurt before making his way to his bedroom. He had just pulled his pyjama top over his head when he phone began to ring.

He smiled to himself, perhaps Kurt wanted to wish him goodnight in person. His smile broadened as he saw the caller ID was indeed Kurt, a smiling picture of him looking up at Blaine from the screen.

"Hey, Kurt," he greeted cheerfully, pressing the phone to his ear while trying to find his pyjama bottoms.

"It's Burt," came a vaguely familiar voice, much deeper than Kurt's.

"Oh," said Blaine in surprise. "Hello, sir, is everything alright?"

"Not exactly," sighed Burt.

"Where's Kurt, is he alright?" Blaine gripped the phone with both hands, running through a thousand scenarios in his head.

"He's not in the best of ways," said Burt, worry etched deep into his voice. "Do you think you could come to the hospital? I think he might like you here."

"Which hospital?" demanded Blaine, already scrambling from the bedroom to find his shoes and keys.

Blaine's driving was verging on manic as he made his way to the hospital, gripping the wheel almost painfully as he had to wait for traffic lights. Finally he swerved into the car park, parking rather haphazardly before rushing into the hospital, ignoring the chilly evening air against his bare arms.

He saw Burt standing off to one side as he rushed into the waiting room, he approached him with slight trepidation.

"How-what...is he okay?" Blaine stumbled over his words. "Where's Matthew?"

"Matthew's with Carole, she's just trying to get him to sleep," started Burt, turning and gesturing for Blaine to follow. "Kurt's doing okay. Mild concussion and broken arm from what I've been told."

"Broken arm-what? What happened?" asked Blaine with wide eyes.

"I'll let him explain," said Burt, stopping outside one of the rooms and clapping a gentle hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Thanks for coming, Blaine."

Blaine nodded, "Anytime," he said firmly. Burt pushed open the door and the two men entered.

"Oh my God, Kurt," breathed Blaine, moving to the hospital bed in the middle of the room, upon which sat a rather battered-looking Kurt.

"Hey," replied Kurt quietly with a small smile.

"Kurt, what happened?" asked Blaine, ever-so-gently cupping the other man's jaw in his hand, taking in the bruising down one side of his face, partially covered by a clean white bandage that was wound around his forehead, and the cast that encased Kurt's left arm.

Kurt's blue eyes stared into his own before he said quietly, "Nathan."

Blaine closed his eyes, parting his lips to let out a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm.

"Blaine?" whispered Kurt hesitantly.

"You alright, bud?" asked the gruff voice of Burt, whom Blaine had forgotten was in the room.

Blaine nodded, his movements stiff and jerky, before opening his eyes and sinking down into the chair next to Kurt's bed, leaning his forehead against Kurt's right hand.

"Dad had a similar reaction," mumbled Kurt, moving the hand that Blaine had dropped his head onto to play with the rogue curls across the man's forehead. "But with more shouting."

"God, Kurt," whimpered Blaine, sitting up and gripping Kurt's right hand between both of his.

"Hey," said Kurt, twisting his hand so their fingers interlocked. "I'm okay, I promise."

Blaine looked up at Kurt with pure adoration in his eyes. "You're the strongest person I know," he whispered earnestly and Kurt's mouth fell open just slightly before be snapped it closed and gave Blaine a watery smile.

Neither of them noticed Burt leave the room.

Kurt was told he couldn't return to work until the cast on his arm was removed, as he was unable to carry trays and plates safely or even fit his arm into the sleeve of the uniform.

This sent Kurt into a fit of panic, realising no job would mean no money which meant he wasn't going to be able to provide for himself and Matthew. Blaine had calmed him down with a kiss to his cast and told him that the student they'd had manning the till in the music shop had quit and they were looking for someone else to hire.

"No uniform is required other than a little badge with your name, and all you'd be doing is transferring money from the customer to the till, so you wouldn't be putting any strain on your arm," said Blaine, looking quite pleased with this idea.

"Really?" asked Kurt with a grin before flinging himself at Blaine. "Thank you, you're the best," he sighed into the other man's shoulder.

"And this way I'll get to see you a whole lot more," murmured Blaine happily, hugging him back after making sure Kurt was being careful with his arm.

Kurt was discharged from the hospital with stitches in his forehead, a dark coloured cast around his arm ("This colour will go best with the suit I'm planning to wear for the wedding, Blaine."), and a cream for the bruising on his face.

"Even with purple blotches on your face you look stunning," assured Blaine when he caught Kurt staring at himself in the mirror, pulling him away with arms around his waist. "But if you want I can kiss it better?"

"I dunno..." sighed Kurt dramatically. "It's a big bruise, it might require lots of kissing."

Kurt giggled as Blaine peppered his face with lots of little pecks.

"Stunning," repeated Blaine quietly against his cheek.

Sorry for taking so long with this! And after all that you get such a rushed chapter, my deepest apologies!

But this story is NEARLY at 200 reviews! This is incredibly exciting...perhaps you should...help me out here...

You are all LOVELY, thank you for reading and actually sticking through this with me. :)