Author's note: I was inspired to write this story after seeing pinkvegpixie's amazing Kurt-as-Angel submission in the spring 2013 Glee Reverse Big Bang: imgur dot com slash U9Lr6 (and see the cover art at imgur dot com slash zMwO9pl). The story appeared in my mind, and after some deliberation about whether or not it was appropriate to write a story about characters living with HIV, I decided to risk it.

Covenant House, an organization that supports homeless youth, is offering 4:1 matching donations through the end of March 2013. I'll be making a donation on March 31 equal in dollars to the number of hits to my story on AO3. Please pass this on, and let me know if this story inspires you to contribute.

If you have never seen the musical RENT, you can still read this story and enjoy it. It might help you to see how adorable the original two characters are, on whom Kurt and Noah's characters are based. Here are Angel and Collins from the movie production, singing I'll Cover You: youtube dot com slash watch?v=CUY_st9c-QA

If you want to be more familiar with RENT, you might listen to the music: youtube dot com slash watch?v=JLDDi4PqjbM&list=PL679791B5EABBA097

There is a movie production and a video of the stage production, both of which are very good. Here's a link to the script for the stage production: www dot thealmightyguru dot com slash Reviews slash Rent slash

I listened to a mix of RENT soundtrack and Puccini's La Boheme while I was writing. Here's Musetta's Waltz, which is referenced in the musical: youtube dot com slash watch?v=KP3lV-YvCYM

I learned a lot about HIV/AIDS in the process of writing this fic. I'm a microbiologist by training, but this is not meant to be a scientific story. I'm a member of the queer community, but this is not meant to be a political commentary on the dearth of AIDS research nor the status of homeless services in the United States. This is a love story, and as such is personal. Any errors in regards to living with HIV, the experience of homelessness or the political structure around securing funding for HIV research are completely my fault.

Lots more notes at the end, with links to more information on the correlations between homelessness, AIDS/HIV and LBGT youth.

Thank you to Penthea for beta reading and suggestions for a much improved beginning.

Overture

newyork. cbslocal 2012/11/30/manhattan-hiv-aids-patients-still-homeless-after-sandy/

Manhattan HIV, AIDS Patients Still Homeless After Sandy

November 30, 2012 12:46 PM

NEW YORK (CBS New York) - At the height of superstorm Sandy, the Hudson River shattered the glass doors and swamped the Bailey-Holt House on Christopher Street.

"It's the first AIDS housing program in the nation," said CEO Gina Quattrochi. It now has about $1 million in damage.

She said there in Evacuation Zone B, the last thing she expected was to have to scatter the 44 residents in shelters and temporary housing around the city. But that was the challenge she faced.

"I just learned about one of our clients who was admitted to the hospital in a crisis last night. Our clients are beginning to fall apart. They've held on the for the last couple of weeks," she told WCBS 880 reporter Alex Silverman. "This is the community that nurtured and stabilized many of them."

She, too, is getting desperate.

"We're stuck right now. I made a pledge that I would spend New Year's Eve in the building with the residents. That's looking dim at this point," she said.

What they really need, she says, is a construction company to come forward and volunteer its services.

"We're not going to let Bailey House go down. You know what we need is? We need a Santa Claus," she said.

Homeless Shelter Advocates Fight For Funding

June 27, 2013 7:44 PM

NEW YORK (CBS New York) - After Michael Bloomberg's revised budget figures supporting funding for homeless shelters in New York City were released, advocates for homeless shelters were quoted as being "ecstatic." Bloomberg's $68.5 billion revised budget includes additional funding for child care services, libraries and education.

But not all shelter workers are satisfied.

"It all comes down to numbers," said Kurt Hummel, son of congressman Burt Hummel (D-OH, 4th district). Hummel was instrumental in securing funding for Bailey House when Hurricane Sandy inflicted over $1 million in damage to the Christopher Street shelter. "This is only one shelter, providing less than a hundred beds. Meanwhile, thousands of LBGT youth in the city go without places to sleep every day. These kids need more personal support."

The city itself has an estimated homeless youth population of 3,800. Most youth shelters have waiting lists that far exceed their capacity. In addition, homeless youth are at far greater risk of contracting HIV.

"Homelessness is deadly for people living with HIV/AIDS, but Bloomberg's public health priorities don't seem to extend beyond his big soda ban lately," said Wayne Starks, a VOCAL-NY board member and formerly homeless person living in supportive housing. "This administration has repeatedly slashed funding for housing programs that keep people with HIV/AIDS healthy, while introducing policies like drug testing that are simply an excuse to deny medically appropriate shelter."

Act I

December 24, 2015

"What can I get you?" asked the gyro vendor.

Noah felt in the pocket of his coat for the few remaining bills, considering whether bus fare or dinner was more important. His growling stomach won out.

"You got a cheap apartment in that warmer?" he asked, grinning at the vendor's chuckle.

"You find something cheap in this city, it probably ain't worth living there."

"Yeah, I'm finding that out. A chicken gyro, then."

The man leaned over his cart, letting the warmth bathe his hands, and didn't object when Noah did the same. "You're new to the Village, huh?"

"New to New York," he clarified. "Feels like my tribe, though - or at least a hell of a lot closer than anything I found in Boston."

"Mmmm." The vendor's look was curious, not judgmental, and Noah didn't feel offended when he asked, "What brings you here?"

"Teaching. Math, at the U." The details were unnecessary; the gyro vendor didn't need to know how hard he'd fought for his postdoc position at MIT before being dismissed by the university, nine months later. He'd always thought academia was supposed to be liberal, but apparently his politics fell a little too far toward the radical end of the liberal spectrum. It was enough to turn him off higher education for good - but here he was, doing it again.

"You got a place to stay?"

Noah recognized that question, and the tone in which it had been asked. The vendor was good-looking enough, and his teeth were clean and his shoes not too worn, which were reasonable pointers to a safe, warm place to sleep. Even if Noah ended up trading for sex, it wouldn't be a bad deal. He gave him a sideways smile. "Been in the city two weeks, and haven't paid rent yet. First paycheck's not for another two weeks, but even then, I still won't have enough for a deposit and one month on an efficiency." He shrugged, trying not to look bitter, because he really didn't feel that way. "Even Boston was cheaper than this."

"Well, you know where to find me. And be careful out there tonight. Lot of crazies on the street after dark."

Noah was tough enough to walk alone in any damn city he wanted, including the East Village, but the vendor was being friendly, so he just said, "Thanks."

He bit into the gyro, appreciating the way it warmed his insides. It was both freeing and terrifying to be in a new city without any connections or commitments other than his job. Which, he had to admit, was nothing but an embarrassing consolation prize. You failed at the big leagues, Noah. Now you're stuck teaching state college freshmen how to add and subtract.

He jammed his free hand deeper into the pocket of his coat, telling himself not to care what his former colleagues were doing. You never wanted to be invited to their shitty cocktail parties, even when you were one of them. Why should you care if you're the hot topic of their malicious Facebook gossip? He'd never been so glad to shed his virtual reality for an actual one. Even if the actual one was damn cold.

The snow was falling thicker as he entered the alley crossing through to the next street, and he slipped a little as he attempted to walk and eat at the same time. Noah thought the snow must have muffled the sounds of their approach, because he didn't notice the two guys beside him until the third one hit him over the head from behind.

"Shhh... just rest. Finn, that cup of ice... pour into a t-shirt and bring it back to me."

The sharp pain over his left eye went abruptly cold, after which the pain ebbed somewhat. Noah blinked, squinting into the flickering light.

"Where - am I?"

"11th Street and Avenue B." The light resolved into a concerned smile, from which the dulcet voice originated. "You okay, honey?"

"I'm afraid so." Noah batted at the glare, and the - man? woman? - did something to it to make it dimmer. "What happened?"

"Three guys decided you looked like a likely target." Alto notwithstanding, Noah was pretty certain he was a boy. His hair was short, styled, his clothing gender-ambiguous, and he had the kind of manner Noah associated with trans women; he'd have to watch his pronouns until he got confirmation about his - her? - gender identification. The boy stroked his forehead. "Did they get any money?"

"Nah. None to get." It wasn't quite true, but Noah didn't feel ready to find his shoes and discover if his spare bills were still in their under-sole stash. He had a flash of memory. "Did - shit, they took my guitar."

The boy nodded sadly as he transferred the ice pack to Noah's hands. "And your coat. Though they missed a sleeve."

"Nice of them to leave me with a way to conceal arms." The joke slipped out before Noah could stop it, and after an awkward moment, the boy laughed. Noah grimaced, only partly from pain, and resettled the ice pack onto his forehead. "Apparently they left my embarrassing penchant for puns intact."

"I won't hold it against you." His grin looked honest, not placating at all. "Trust me, you're in good company here. My stepbrother might not get your jokes, but he'll laugh anyway." He held out a hand. "I'm Angel."

Noah took it, holding it in his for one warm moment before shaking it. "Noah. Puckerman, but my friends used to call me Puck."

Angel cocked his head. He had a strong handshake, but his face was delicate, with subtle eyebrows. "Used to?"

"Can't say I've met any people for years I would consider friends. I've been Noah for the past eight years in the academic world, but, really, academia can kiss my ass." He shrugged, waving the rest away. "You don't need to hear my life story; you've been way too kind already."

Noah sat up, assessing the damage the thugs had wrought as he swung his stiff legs off the double mattress. There was a bandage on his knee, which he could see through the bloody tear in the leg of his jeans. Other than that and the contusions on his face, he seemed to be in one piece.

Angel beckoned him out of the bedroom into a big unfinished loft space with old posters on the walls. A tall young man was stirring a pot of something over a little Sterno burner. He gave Noah a friendly nod as he entered. "Hey, he's awake."

"This is my step-brother, Finn." Angel drew up two mismatched chairs and offered the lumpy brown couch to Noah. "And you're wrong, Noah; I'm all about hearing the life story. We only get electricity on good days, so we have to make our own entertainment around here. Academia - you teach, then? Or taught?"

"Taught, and will teach," Noah confirmed. He chafed his hands together; the wood burning stove in the center of the room put out some heat, but it was still December, and he was down one coat. "Mathematics at NYU, starting next week. Hopefully my politics won't get me kicked out of this department too. My PI at MIT decided I wasn't a good fit after I got arrested for the third time."

Angel's eyes danced as he regarded Noah thoughtfully. "Hmmm. Drug use? Disturbing the peace?"

"Civil disobedience, officially," said Noah. He accepted Finn's proffered mug of soup with a grateful smile. "Thanks. Though I'm sure the tacked-on pot charges didn't help. It wasn't like I was selling or anything. Just giving it away. No, it was definitely my actions against the department vice-chair that got me blackballed. Let's say I'm intolerant of intolerance, against anyone."

"You're in good company here, then. Plenty of disobedience in this place to go around." Angel rested the mug of soup in both hands, his elbows on his knees. He reminded Noah of Peter Pan, all sparkle and earnest energy. "Eat that soup, and then I'll take you out to get you a new coat. I'm flush tonight."

"No, really, it's fine," Noah protested, but Finn nudged his shoulder as he settled next to him on the couch.

"Don't bother, man," he murmured. "Angel doesn't take no."

He looked back and forth between Finn and Angel. "I don't get it. You don't know me at all. Why would you want to help me?"

Angel gestured with his mug, looking coy. "Hell, it's Christmas Eve."

Noah ate a bite of soup, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm Jewish."

The sudden sounds of a mournful electric guitar drifted out of the other room. Angel smiled, shaking his head. "You'd better bring him some soup. I don't think he's coming out at all today."

"Who's that? He sounds a little depressed."

Finn got to his feet with a sigh. "That's Blaine, and actually, this is him on a good day. He hasn't played that guitar in a year. He's had... some setbacks."

Angel made a shrugging motion that was way hotter than it had any right to be. Noah tried to keep his eyes to himself, but it wasn't easy, because damn. "At least he doesn't have to worry about keeping up with the rent."

Finn chuckled. Noah waited for the punch line, but when it didn't come, he said, "I don't follow."

"This place belongs to Blaine's old boyfriend's dad," said Angel. "I think he intends it to be a development project one of these days, but for now, we're squatters. Free rent."

"Wow. You need another roommate?" He caught the expression on Angel's face, and wished he could take it back. "I mean - that wasn't a -"

"No, it's fine," said Angel, smiling. "I'll get my bag; you can take me grocery shopping." He paused on his way past Noah, grabbed his arm for a moment, leaning in to whisper, "You're cute when you blush."

Noah was jolted out of his embarrassment by the sound of a phone ringing. "Land line?" he said, searching for the origin of the sound. The old push-button phone was plugged into a phone jack in the corner. "I haven't seen one of these in a house in a long time."

"Screen the call." Angel's voice floated out from the room where Noah had awoken. "This used to be a music publishing factory. These were the offices." He emerged moments later in a completely different outfit, equally eclectic, with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. "We have friends in all kinds of places, including the phone company."

The answering machine demanded the caller speak. The voice following the beep sounded annoyed. Noah saw Angel roll his eyes and sigh. "It's almost the new year, guys," said the voice, "and rent is due. This past year's rent, which I let slide?"

Finn reached out and snagged the receiver. "Yeah, and we're not going to pay it," he said. "Fuck you, Sebastian. You said we were golden when your dad bought the building. Remember? When you were our roommate?" He listened, scowling. "No, Rachel moved out. She fired me. As her boyfriend and her production manager. A new man?... not exactly."

Angel nudged Noah's arm, grinning. "Her new man's a beautiful girl named Quinn. But Finn's not too bitter. I think he's more annoyed at being replaced as her manager."

Finn set the receiver down with a little more force than was necessary. He crossed his arms in frustration. "I think he's serious, Angel. He's talking eviction if we don't pay our back rent for the whole year."

"I'm not taking him seriously until I see the paperwork. Sebastian's flaked out on us before." Angel raised his voice. "Last chance to add to the grocery list, Blaine."

There was a long pause, and then a muffled voice from the other room said, "Cheese? Like, something with a vintage?"

"I'll see what I can find," Angel called back. In an ordinary voice, he said to Noah, "Everyone has his vices. It's a lot better for Blaine's to be expensive food, instead of smack."

"No doubt." Noah couldn't keep the unease out of his voice, but he waited until Angel had collected the mugs of soup and brought them to the dishtub in the corner to touch his arm. "You - when you found me on the street, you cleaned me up. Bandaged my leg."

Now it was Angel's turn to look embarrassed. "I put your jeans back on. It wasn't anything inappropriate, believe me."

"No... Angel." He watched the boy react to the sound of his name on Noah's lips, like he was startled. Noah forced himself to go on. "That was fine, but... you might want to get tested. Because I'm positive."

Instead of the disgust or alarm he'd expected, Angel's lovely face smoothed into something more calm. "You, too?"

Noah didn't know why he was surprised by Angel's confession. Intellectually, he knew there were lots and lots of other guys out there living with HIV, but it surprised him to hear someone else admit it. He couldn't manage to do anything but nod.

Angel took his arm, snuggling it close as they walked toward the door. "We'll get along fine," he said, and he sounded so confident that Noah had to believe him.

Noah recognized one of the guys in the tent city in the vacant lot next door, but when the guy waved and said, "Hey, Angel," Noah didn't bother to call attention to himself. One night stands didn't call back for a reason. He noticed Angel didn't do more than give the guy a brief wave and a smile. He also didn't let go of Noah's arm.

"First, you need a new coat. It's way too cold for you to be outside without one." Angel sounded like he was sharing a secret. "I spend a lot of time at vintage and used clothing places, and I guarantee I'll find you something you like even more than the old one. Then we'll go get something to eat and stop at the grocery store on the way back."

"You like to shop?" Noah guessed. He let Angel direct him down the street. His arm was warm - probably warmer than it should be. But he wondered if that was normal for Angel or if he didn't want anybody to point it out. Either way, Noah wasn't going to say anything.

"If I had my druthers, I'd be on Fifth Avenue," Angel said wistfully. "But I'm absolutely sure there are better ways for me to spend my money. And it's amazing what you can find in the Salvation Army thrift shop in New York. Much better pickings than - where I come from."

"Yeah, I think I bought most of my teenage wardrobe at the thrift store in Lima," said Noah. He thought he saw Angel pause a moment before continuing their trudge through the snow. "Hey, I just realized you're not wearing a coat."

Angel gave him a grin. "Layers. Divas show off their clothes."

"You're definitely worth showing off," Noah agreed. He was pleased to see Angel's cheeks flush pink. "Now who's cute."

"I never said I wasn't." Noah watched Angel's smile, the way he tossed his head and moved with grace and pride. He guessed he'd never been in the closet a day in his life. He shook his head, feeling the pleasant ache of his constant smile much more sharply than he did the pain in his face or his knee. They paused at the corner, waiting for the light.

"You and Finn, you're brothers? What about the other guy - Blair? What's his story?"

"Blaine," Angel nodded soberly. His grip on Noah's arm became a little tighter. "He was my first boyfriend. We tried the long distance thing when I moved to New York, but he found himself an anonymous hookup on Facebook. I never expected him to be irresponsible enough to have unprotected sex."

"Ouch." Noah raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing that ended things between you guys."

"Pretty much. And Blaine joined us in New York at NYADA, but when he found out he was positive, he fell into a pretty bad funk. He dropped out, and when his dad cut him off from his inheritance, he started using... it wasn't pretty." He sighed resolutely. "That was a few years ago. He's been clean over six months, now, but we seldom get him out of his room for more than a shower and something to eat. When I heard him play the guitar today..."

Noah waited for him to go on, but when he didn't, he asked, as gently as he could, "You're still in love with him?"

"With Blaine?" Angel's smile was genuinely surprised. "Not like that. He's my best friend, but we got over each other a long time ago. Once I figured out I couldn't make him happy, we called a truce; he does his thing, I do mine, and we love each other the best we can." He gave a little skip. "Life's way too short and too brilliant to be upset about things we can't fix."

"Agreed," said Noah firmly. He took Angel's hand, twirling him around in an impromptu dance move, right there in broad daylight on the sidewalk. Angel didn't even stumble, and when he was done, he gave Noah a curtsey, the color high on his cheeks. You're amazing, Noah wanted to say, but how do you say that to somebody you've just met?

"So, I do my best to change the things I can," Angel went on, as though nothing had happened. "At nine-thirty tonight, there's a Life Support meeting, for people like myself who are living with HIV. Kids, mostly. It helps. You should come."

Noah stopped at the entrance to the thrift store and held the door open for Angel. "Maybe I will. If you don't think you'll be sick of me yet."

Angel paused in the doorway, his face alight, and rested both hands on Noah's chest. "Not a chance," he breathed. Then he danced away into the store, tugging Noah's hand after him.

They walked through the aisles hand-in-hand, Angel stopping every few minutes to pull something off the rack and hold it up against Noah. "You're going to need a new pair of jeans," he advised, nodding at the selection. "I don't think I can fix that tear with my sewing machine."

The first coat Angel chose for him had classy styling, but it was too tight, and Angel stripped it off his arms before Noah could say one word about it. The second was a little big, but it had deep pockets and a soft lining that felt good against Noah's skin. Angel's sure, assessing hands straightened the coat on his frame, running across his back, his shoulders. Then Noah caught his breath as Angel's hands slid under the coat, around his rib cage, enfolding him in a tight hug.

"Perfect," he murmured.

Noah tried on jeans next, a little too conscious of Angel's eyes on him as he modeled each pair. "These," Angel decided, nodding. "Take the tag off and I'll pay for them."

But Noah's attention was distracted from Angel's admiring eyes by a familiar instrument case on the shelf with the other odds and ends. "It's my guitar!" he exclaimed, snapping the latches and opening the case to inspect the Taylor. "God, I can't believe those assholes sold it here."

"They would have wanted to ditch it quickly," Angel said, peering into the velvet-lined case. "Is it okay?"

"Looks fine." He stroked the honey-colored wood, feeling an enormous sense of relief, and tuned it quickly, strumming a few chords. Angel smiled at the sound, watching him.

"Will you play for me later?"

"When I get my first paycheck," he agreed. Angel tut-tutted, reaching over to take the Taylor gently out of his hands and placed it back into the case.

"If you're going to be my musical entertainment tonight, I think I can justify the expense. Let's go see how much they're going to charge us to get back what's yours."

He watched Angel take possession of the coat, the guitar and the tag off the jeans, feeling helpless. "Tell me again why I'm letting you buy me all of this when it wasn't your fault in the first place they got stolen."

"I told you; I'm flush tonight. And you had a little lag between jobs, so consider this to be your cushion."

Noah smirked. "You're my cushion?"

"If you'll let me be," Angel replied, his face completely serious.

Noah's smirk dropped away, and he found himself shaking his head in complete disbelief. His hand came up to touch Angel's beautiful face, and Angel pressed his cheek into the palm of Noah's hand.

"You don't have to do this," Noah insisted, but he shook his head.

"Hush your mouth," he murmured. "It's Christmas."

I don't deserve it, he thought. Things like this... they just don't happen. But Angel's smile looked real enough, and he decided he was just going to accept what he saw.

"Thanks," he said softly. "For the guitar, and the coat and the jeans. And... everything."

Angel's smile grew. "It's my pleasure. How about we get some dinner?"

They had gourmet pizza at Artichoke Basille, which felt like a lot more of an extravagance than Noah's twenty-dollar coat, but Angel ordered and Noah ate, and it was fine. He just tried to keep breathing, watching Angel's animated face as he talked about Finn's efforts at filmography.

"He discovered a passion for it after the military didn't pan out," he said, between bites of garlicky slices. "Finn's never been particularly academic, but he's very talented, and when Blaine and I moved in here, he came to join us. He's always finding inspiration in ordinary things."

"There's not a lot of ordinary in the East Village," said Noah. Angel shook his head, his face serious.

"Ordinary isn't always pretty. We see a lot of anger and hate along with the beauty. Mostly what I see is unfairness and missed opportunities. The more I see, the more determined I am to do something about it."

"What... do you do?" Noah asked, feeling tentative, because the answer wasn't at all clear and he knew the question could easily sound judgmental. If Angel was a sex worker or unemployed or a monk or anything, Noah wanted him to know he didn't care. But Angel didn't seem dismayed by the question.

"I'm a peer counselor at Bailey House. It's a homeless shelter for queer teens. We've gone through some challenges, rebuilding after Hurricane Sandy, and Bloomburg's been brutal in the past couple years when it came to renewing funding for the shelter. But we're doing really good work. It's something I can believe in." He licked off his fingers with a wry smile. "Very different from what I did when I came to New York."

"I'm guessing it wasn't social work." Noah reached out with his napkin and wiped a little oil off Angel's chin. Angel didn't seem to mind at all.

"I came to live with a friend from high school, Rachel, when she was struggling to feel at home in the city. She'd gotten into NYADA - the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts?" Noah nodded, and Angel went on. "We'd always been friendly competition for one another, but neither Finn nor I got into the arts schools we applied for. I got a job with a fashion magazine before I applied again the next year. But then Blaine got sick, and..." He shrugged. "It was harder after that to pretend there was nothing bad happening around us."

"And you," said Noah. "You got the virus, too? Was it, um... did Blaine...?"

Angel shook his head, his gaze on his hands. "I've been living with it for a long time. I'm lucky, really - the meds seem to work pretty well for me. I haven't had to deal with too many complications." He picked up the last piece of pizza and held it out for Noah to take a bite. "Come on, before the snow gets any worse."

Grocery shopping at Fine Fare didn't do anything to dim Angel's enthusiasm. He selected bananas, Stoli, firewood and Captain Crunch cereal with whimsical abandon, but he took his time selecting Blaine's cheese. Noah had never had so much fun at the grocery store. When he hesitantly held up a box of clementines, Angel gave him an encouraging nod and hugged him.

"Tonight, we can have anything we want."

When they returned to the loft, however, Noah could hear tense voices raised in argument. Angel leaned against the door, listening.

"It's Blaine," he said, "and somebody else, I don't recognize who. Not Sebastian." He gave him a sheepish grin. "You mind hanging out with me and the groceries in the stairwell for a while?"

I'd follow you anywhere, Noah thought, hitching the bags up on his arm before joining Angel around the corner. They set their things down and crouched down on the filthy floor, blowing on their hands. When Angel smiled, Noah beckoned to him. "Come here. This coat's got room for two."

He settled down in the corner as Angel tucked himself in Noah's coat. He rested a hand on Noah's chest, his head on his shoulder, and sighed contentedly. "You feel so good."

"Yeah," Noah said. "You, too. You've taken what could easily have been the worst day I've had in New York and turned it into the best day."

"New York thinks it's the center of the universe." He smiled up at Noah. "Just think; no matter where you go after this, it'll probably be easier."

"Probably, yeah." Angel's skin felt so soft under his fingers. "You have any big dreams? Anything you regret not doing?"

Angel was quiet for a moment. Then he said, hesitantly, "Performing. I always thought I would be on the stage. Singing, dancing, acting... it was my life, as long as I could remember. I didn't make it, but I still think, sometimes, maybe I could try again."

"I can relate. I mean, I chose math over music, but I can't say I don't still think about it all the time. I could get a gig, playing at a club, maybe buy some studio time, cut a few tracks..." Somehow it was easy to share his private dreams with Angel, here in the hallway of his vacant building. He brushed his fingers through Angel's soft, styled hair. Angel smiled again, turning his head to kiss Noah's hand.

"I haven't even heard you play yet," he said, "but you could do that, absolutely."

"How can you be so positive?" Noah touched the bandage on his own forehead. "I don't know how you do it, Angel."

Angel's face tipped up toward his, his eyes bright. "It's all I want to do."

"All?" whispered Noah, leaning in, his breath warm on Angel's skin.

"This," Angel whispered back. Their lips touched once. "This is everything I want, right here. A thousand of these."

"I can do that," Noah promised, and kissed him again. It was just as perfect than he'd hoped it would be, sweet and strong and intense, and Noah controlled an urge to lay him down right there on the floor of the hallway and start peeling off his layers.

"You need a place to stay," said Angel, when they broke their connection. "We've got plenty of room, as long as Sebastian doesn't make good on his promise."

"Yeah?" Noah nuzzled Angel's cheek by his ear, feeling his shuddering response. "I didn't mean to be so forward earlier, invite myself to sleep there. And I don't want to assume - I mean, this, what we're doing, it's all so -"

"You can assume, honey," Angel interrupted. He tipped his head back, giving Noah access to his neck. "What you're feeling... it's all real, and I'm feeling it too."

"You're incredible," Noah groaned, clutching at Angel's body and holding him close. I need to find some way to show you how you've touched me.

"It's mutual." Angel kissed him once more, then withdrew from Noah's coat, offering a hand to help him up. "Let's get these groceries put up. I need to see what's going on with Blaine. I think he's had enough time, whatever was happening, but I'm dying with curiosity. He never talks to anybody."

Blaine, his curly hair wild and blinking behind dark-framed glasses, greeted Noah with a distracted handshake. "Kurt..." Angel turned to him, frowning. "Angel," he amended. "It was - I was working on my song, and there was a knock on the door, I thought it was Finn coming back to get something, but - it was the boy downstairs. Sam. He had a candle."

"A candle?" Angel took cans and boxes out of the bags and stashed them under the table along the wall.

"He was... cold. No heat, and he needed a light..." He trailed off, his eyes distant. "His hair... he was -"

"Hot?" Noah grinned, and Blaine looked up at him as though he was seeing him for the first time. He shook his head.

"No... I mean, yes, I think..." He flushed, smiling. "He said, 'They say I have the best ass below 14th Street.'"

"Subtle." Angel came over and sat next to him on the couch, putting a hand on his knee. "Are you okay?"

"He - he's a dancer. I remember him, from when I used to go out, the club around the corner. And he invited me out tonight."

"Oh, Blaine," Angel murmured, hugging him, but Blaine was shaking his head.

"I can't. I can't go. He's a junkie, Angel. I know it when I see it, believe me. I know how it feels to sweat and shiver, and I'm not going through that again." Blaine gritted his teeth. He looked so conflicted, so worked up about this boy. It was such a contrast from Angel's easy acceptance of everything.

"It doesn't have to be about that," insisted Angel, holding Blaine's hands. "You can still like him, and you can still go out. In fact, you have to go out."

Blaine hung his head. "Yeah, I already said yes." Angel squealed, and Blaine smiled despite himself. "I don't know what I'm doing, here, but... he was so..."

I know exactly what you're experiencing, man, Noah thought, watching Angel's excited smile. He really is.

"Noah and I are going to Life Support," he was saying. "You could join us."

"I think if I'm going to really meet him at the club, I shouldn't push it," said Blaine. "I know I'm going to freak out as it is." He gestured at his guitar, propped against the couch. "I was working on my song."

"I heard you playing earlier." Angel looked so proud of Blaine. He glanced at Noah's guitar case, then hopefully up at Noah. Noah grinned, pushing the guitar case with his foot before opening the latches.

"We could jam," he said. Blaine eyed Noah's Taylor as he tuned it, clearly looking ready to say no.

"You need to eat something," Angel said firmly. "We have leftover pizza, or I could warm up some soup or corned beef hash or stew."

Noah played the opening lick to "Hotel California," watching Blaine's eyes light up, and sang softly while he picked up his Fender, turning the amp on low. Blaine joined in, switching comfortably from unison to harmony and back again:

www youtube com / watch?v=VJ9-aD7NdHQ

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night

There she stood in the doorway; I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
"This could be Heaven or this could be Hell."
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...

Blaine looked a little overwhelmed, whether by the lyrics or the shared music, Noah couldn't say, but he was definitely ready to stop by the time Angel returned with a bowl of corned beef. Noah felt a little nervous as Angel settled on the couch right up against him, because if he'd been living with his ex, it might not feel so great to see him with another guy. But Blaine didn't seem bothered by it, so he tried not to worry.

"You sounded fantastic," Angel said, smiling with satisfaction. "Both of you did."

Noah didn't even bother trying to pretend he didn't love hearing that from him. "You're working on a song?" he asked Blaine.

"Yeah." Blaine nodded. "One more song, before I..." He cut off, looking away from Angel's glare. "It's been in my head for a long time. I just haven't been able to get it out."

"Maybe you need to get out of the house before it'll come to fruition," Angel suggested. It was Blaine's turn to glare, but there wasn't any force behind it. Angel just smiled at him. "Can I help you pick out something to wear tonight? Oh, did you hear Sebastian's call earlier? He's getting more persistent..."

Noah picked his guitar up again as Angel coaxed Blaine back into his room, chattering at him. He felt kind of bad for Blaine, the way Angel was pushing him, but he'd just met them both and he didn't know what the dynamic was like. Maybe Blaine needed that.

By the time Angel returned from psyching Blaine up, Noah had a song ready. He had no idea what kind of music Angel liked, but hearing about his musical theater background gave him some indication of where to begin. He saw Angel's pleased smile when he heard the opening bars, and knew he'd guessed right.

www. youtube watch?v=E3Pr-6Jfpvc

How can I hope to make you understand
Why I do what I do,
Why I must travel to a distant land
Far from the home I love?

Angel sat down in the folding chair across from him, singing in unison one octave above him, but making it sound effortless and not at all girly. Noah almost stopped singing, he was so surprised, but he managed to both continue playing and singing at the same time he listened closely to Angel's voice. Angel, indeed, he marveled.

Once I was happily content to be
As I was, where I was
Close to the people who are close to me
Here in the home I love...

Angel's eyes went wistful, taking on the character, his face as melancholy as Blaine's. Noah watched, fascinated, as Angel became Hodel, speaking to her father. It didn't matter that Angel was a young man and Hodel was a young woman; Noah was completely sold. He let Angel continue the rest of the song alone and concentrated on playing the accompaniment - and listening to his breathtaking voice, which was saying words that sounded suddenly, heart-wrenchingly appealing.

Who could see that a man would come
Who would change the shapes of my dreams?
Helpless, now, I stand with him
Watching older dreams grow dim.

Oh, what a melancholy choice this is,
Wanting home, wanting him,
Closing my heart to every hope but his,
Leaving the home I love.

Noah saw Blaine emerge from the other room, dressed for the club in leather and a tight t-shirt. He paused in the doorway, pushing the curtain aside, and watched Angel with a little smile on his face. It was the first smile Noah had seen him display, and it was amazing how much it transformed him. Angel, however, was oblivious to anything other than the lyrics he was singing.

There where my heart has settled long ago
I must go, I must go.
Who could imagine I'd be wand'ring so
Far from the home I love?
Yet, there with my love, I'm home.

Angel's eyes closed, holding the last note. When they opened again, they were wet, and he was Angel again, smiling at Noah.

"Fiddler's one of my favorites," he said. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. You can't grow up Jewish and not see it at least once." Noah shook his head. "Angel... that's one hell of a talent you've got there."

"We've got a whole houseful of it." Angel reached out a hand to grasp Noah's. "You're a welcome addition. Come on, we've got to get going if we're going to be on time to Life Support."

He kissed Blaine's cheek on the way out, with the firm command that he have a great time, and Noah walked with Angel to the stairwell. On the first landing, Noah stopped him and took his hand, leading him over to the wall. Smiling, Angel opened his arms to Noah's embrace.

"You, singing that song," Noah muttered, and gave his hips a little push into Angel's, against the wall, letting him feel his arousal. Angel gasped, but didn't pull away, and Noah could feel just how turned on he was, too. "I've never heard anything like your voice. You really are an angel."

"I'm just me." Angel sighed into Noah's lips on his neck. He could feel his slender hands under his coat, touching every part of him at once.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

It was a hypothetical question, but apparently the wrong one, because Angel stiffened momentarily, long enough for Noah to pause in his advances. Noah took a deep breath.

"What I meant to say," he said, pulling back and taking his hands, "is it doesn't matter at all to me what you do, or where you come from, or any of those details you're supposed to know about a person before you say things like this."

Angel gazed up at him, his face clear and open. "Maybe those things do matter," he said. "Maybe you should know them. But they wouldn't change who I am, or how I feel." He laughed. "I've been hearing violins all day."

"Yeah, sorry about the unnecessary violins earlier." Noah squeezed Angel's hands as he groaned. "Hey, it was either that or start talking about your sax appeal. It woodwind any man."

Angel took his arm again and led him down the rest of the stairs onto 11th Street. "When you say things like that, how can a boy help but be lost?"

Noah pulled him closer, sharing the warmth of his coat. "So... this, what we're doing... what is it? Are we a thing?"

"Darling." Angel rested his head on Noah's shoulder. "We're everything."

The Life Support meeting was a loose circle of young men and women. They spoke familiarly with one another. Angel didn't appear to be the facilitator, but many of the kids there trusted him enough to give him hugs beforehand, and he seemed happy to give them back. Noah gave him some space to talk to them before sitting down next to him in the circle.

They went around the circle and gave their names. "Noah," he said, when it was his turn.

Angel took his hand and clasped it, smiling. "Hi, I'm Angel."

"I'm Paul," said the man next to him. "Let's begin."

They all began to speak the words Paul had handed them when they walked in, but before they could get through the first two lines, the door opened and Finn rushed in, looking stricken. He had a video camera slung over his shoulder. "Sorry - excuse me..."

"And you are?"

"Oh - I'm not - I'm just here to -" He looked at Angel, then back to Paul again, taking a step back. "I don't have - I'm here with - um. Finn. I'm Finn."

"Sit down, Finn," Paul said gently. "We'll continue the affirmation."

There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret, or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today

They were words Noah might not have been willing to say with a straight face on any other day, but in this moment, with Angel beside him, he could almost believe them.

"If I could ask a favor," said Finn, holding up his camera. "I'm working on a documentary. No guarantee it'll ever go anywhere past this room, but I'd like to get permission from anyone who's willing to give it. I promise, it won't end up on the Internet tomorrow."

The kids took turns speaking about how they were feeling and what was happening in their lives, but when they got to the man named Gordon, he frowned at Paul.

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, all of this touchy-feely stuff, I can only take it so far. It sounds good, feels good, but how can I take it seriously? There's shit I do regret. I've got low T-cells. How can I not regret that?"

Paul nodded. "And... how do you feel? Today?"

Gordon shrugged. "Pretty good, I guess."

"Sounds like a good place to be." He wasn't making fun of him, just watching his reactions. "Are you going to accept the evidence of your own experience, or are you going to stick with what science tells you is possible?"

He laughed a little. "Yeah, well... science told me I should have died three years ago. So I don't really know who to believe anymore."

"That's okay," said Angel. "You're opening up to things you don't know. You're here. That's more important than believing: you're showing up, not hiding in your house. You're telling us your story."

Noah was sure Angel was thinking about Blaine. But he couldn't help feel bad, listening to the participants as they talked about dealing with medication and side effects and their CD4 counts. When Paul asked Noah what his story was, he just said, "I'm new to the city, but it feels good here. This idea of taking it one day at a time... I can believe in that."

When the group was over, Angel stayed to talk with some of the kids. Finn talked to the people who'd agreed to be filmed, then came over to stand by Noah.

"That," he said, shaking his head. "That was the hardest part. I mean, these kids are telling their stories, and of course I want to hear them - that's kind of the point, right? And just by asking to record them, I'm getting in the way of them sharing them, but... I still have to ask."

"Of course. And most of them said sure, no problem. I think they get why you're doing it."

Finn nodded. "Doesn't make it any easier. But I figure my guilt's a pretty small price to pay, considering what they have to go through. Angel..." He stopped.

"He said he's been dealing with the virus a long time," Noah prompted. Finn nodded again.

"Since we were kids. He can tell the story better, but... his mom died? When we were eight. I didn't even know him then. Car accident, a real bad one. He was in it too, and I guess he needed a whole lot of blood, and some of it was infected. I've heard that hardly ever happens anymore. Leave it to - um, a small town hospital to fuck that up for an eight-year-old kid." They both gazed across the room at Angel's animated face, watched him laughing and taking a girl's hands.

"You love him a lot," said Noah.

Finn smiled. "Everybody loves Angel. I can't even feel weird about it. He's been my stepbrother since we were teenagers." He nudged Noah. "You, too."

"Um," said Noah, but Finn shook his head.

"Don't bother to deny it. I'm the clueless one and even I can see it. But he's feeling the same way, so I guess that's something?"

Noah shuffled his feet. "So is this the part where you threaten to kill me if I don't treat him right?"

Finn laughed. "What's the point? He might be closer to the end of his life than me, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't have his own opportunities to live it. But if you're gonna come stay with us, I guess you'll find that out."

The three of them wandered out to the dark street and headed back to the loft. Finn paused outside the building at the approach of two police officers. They didn't look like they wanted to talk. When one of them pulled out his nightstick and poked a woman sleeping on a bench, Finn was ready with his camera.

"Smile for Ted Koppel, Officer Martin," he said loudly. The officer lowered his stick, looking stony, but Finn just grinned. "And Merry Christmas."

The woman on the bench just about knocked the camera out of his hands. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she snapped. "I don't need no goddamn help from some bleeding heart cameraman. My life's not for you to make a name for yourself on!"

"Easy," said Angel, holding out a hand, "he was just trying to -"

But she wheeled on him, too. "Just trying to use me to kill his guilt? It's not that kind of movie, honey." She sneered at the three of them, muttering as she stomped away, "This lot is full of motherfucking artists."

"It's okay," said Finn, smiling a little at Noah's expression. "She's right."

"Even if you're helping?" Noah asked, his outrage subsiding.

"It's her life too. She doesn't have to like what I'm doing, or let me record it."

"But you can't be allowed to be stopped, not by fear of being judged for having privilege," Angel said airily. "You're not going to convince me otherwise. She can be angry; those police officers were, too. They have their own shit to deal with."

"Don't we all?" said Noah.

"I'd prefer to deal with more pleasant things than shit." He leaned over and planted a kiss on Noah's face. "I wonder if Blaine ever made it out of the loft?"

He was there when they returned, but judging by his wet shoes, he'd gone and returned. Angel went right to him, touching his arm. "How did it go with Sam?"

"Awful," Blaine moaned. "He came in here, all 'I've got free passes to this club, just come with me, we'll have a great time.' And I just - I blew it. I told him to collect his stash and his fucking candle and go home. That he's nothing but a hypocrite junkie who talks a good talk about living for the moment, but really he's -"

"Oh, honey," sighed Angel. Blaine buried his face in Angel's shoulder. Noah retreated to stand by Finn.

"I think I'll wait in the other room," he said quietly. Finn nodded.

"I have to go out again." He was frowning at his phone. "Rachel's new production manager is having trouble getting the sound equipment to patch."

"Isn't that her girlfriend?" Finn nodded, and Noah made a face. "Won't that be weird?"

"Fucking weird," he agreed grimly. "On so many levels, considering her girlfriend is my ex-girlfriend too. But she's asking, so... I've got to go. We'll see you guys at the performance later?"

"If Angel's going, I'll be there," Noah agreed.

He left Angel to take care of Blaine and pushed aside the blanket hung over the doorway to Angel's little room. It had probably been a closet or something, because there were no windows, but there was enough room for the mattress he'd woken up on - god, had it just been that evening?

Noah sat on the edge of the mattress in the dark and got out his guitar. He didn't need light to play, and it would help him focus. He guessed he should be feeling overwhelmed, even scared, at the breakneck pace of this day - but all he felt was excited, and grateful, and so goddamned lucky.

A light flickered outside the blanket, scattering shadows on the wall. Angel pushed the blanket aside, carrying a candle, which he set on the milk crate next to the mattress.

"How's Blaine?" Noah asked.

"Better. The fact that he went out at all, that's really good. It's okay that he freaked out, but I think he really likes this guy. He doesn't want to mess it up."

Noah set his guitar carefully on the floor. "I can understand that feeling."

"Hey," said Angel. He put a hand on Noah's leg, smiling. "You're not worried about this? About us?"

"No," he said, his voice hushed. "I think that's what's freaking me out. I'm not worried."

Angel moved to sit beside him, aligning their thighs on the bed. He touched Noah's chest, over his heart.

"I haven't had a boyfriend in a very long time," he said.

"Yeah, me either. I mean, not one that mattered." He looked sharply at Angel. "Oh. That's... not what you meant."

Angel's smile was sheepish. "No."

"You're saying... you haven't had sex with anybody in a long time."

He shook his head. Noah swallowed, feeling suddenly faint.

"You're saying... you've never had sex. With... anybody?"

"When Blaine and I were dating, I was already positive. I wasn't going to put him at risk. And later, after he cheated... I wouldn't, with him." He gave a soft sigh. "And since then, there hasn't been anyone worthwhile. Everybody barebacks; nobody wanted to deal with me if I wasn't going to give in and have unsafe sex, and there was just no way I was going to do that. So... I haven't."

"Angel..." Noah struggled with what to say. "That's... I mean..." He gave a little cough, feeling the heat on his cheeks. "I didn't bring you anything."

Angel's laugh was so welcome. At the sound of it, Noah turned toward him and grabbed him in a tight hug.

"It's fine," he murmured. "I don't care at all. We can do this any way you want. I just want to be here, with you."

Angel nodded emphatically. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, Noah. I'm saying, I've never told anybody else that. I don't even know if Finn knows. It's not the sort of thing you talk about with your stepbrother. But you... I can tell you anything, and it's not scary at all." He turned his face toward Noah's, looking into his eyes. "And with you, I really want to. Do that."

"Yeah?" Noah found himself smiling helplessly, lost in that blue, blue gaze. "I was kind of guessing you did, earlier."

The tension flowed away after that, and it was easy to lie there together, kissing and touching, learning each other's bodies as Noah existed in the possibility of hours, days, weeks, maybe months together with Angel, or longer. It didn't matter that all the rest was uncertain. This, Noah knew they could have.

"We should get up," Angel said eventually. The candle was nearly gone, and they still had all their clothes on, and neither one of them had come, but somehow Noah felt like he'd been more intimate with Angel than he'd ever been with anyone before.

"Yeah," Noah agreed, kissing him one more time before rolling away. "More time later."

"Rachel's doing a performance at midnight tonight, next door in the empty lot on 11th. They're trying to clear that tent city, evicting all the homeless, and this is a protest. There's a party afterwards at the Life Café."

Noah smiled, touching Angel's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Need a date?"

"It's covered. You're my date for everything from now on, as long as you want it."

He swept Angel into an enormous hug, making him laugh out loud. "You bet your ass I want it."

"That's after the party, honey," said Angel with satisfaction, squeezing his ass with one hand. "As much as I'd love to stay here with you all night, I can't miss Rachel's performance... and Blaine's going to be there to watch it, too, if I have to tie him up and drag him with us. She's been preparing for this all month, since we heard about their plan to evict the squatters. Knowing Rachel, it'll be amazing."

Noah carefully put his guitar back in the case. "I still can't believe you got my guitar back. Those fuckers... I'm more pissed that they made a hundred bucks by stealing it."

"The system's not always fair," Angel agreed, stretching intriguingly. "You should never count on it being fair. You just have to know the rules, and play smart."

Noah grinned at him. "I bet you always win."

"Mostly," Angel agreed, grinning back. "I'm persistent. And I'm annoying." He reached into the box by his bed and pulled out two bottles of prescription medications. "Speaking of persistent and annoying, when do you take yours? I do better if I take them at night, but I don't tend to have too much nausea as long as we have food in the house... I've been on Stribild since last year. CD4 count has been above 400 for the past six months."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. "I actually don't take any medication."

Angel's face went blank for a few moments. He looked hard at Noah. "You're refusing? I know they make you feel awful, but Noah, the science is overwhelmingly clear that a strong HAART regimen changes life expectancy by -"

"No." He shook his head, and Angel stopped. "I mean I don't. I didn't even know I was positive for a long time. I don't have symptoms, and my T-cell count is normal or close to normal every time I get tested."

Angel lowered his hand. "You're an elite controller?"

Noah was surprised. "You've heard about this?"

"When I read the Scientific American article three years ago, I started pushing my - I mean, I started calling my Congressional representative to encourage him to push for more research on it. I've just never met one myself." He looked fascinated. "You really have zero symptoms?"

"Yeah. None." Noah controlled his guilty feelings with long practice, and shrugged. "I wasn't the most responsible with protection when I started having sex with guys. When I found out I was positive, my doctors watched my T-cells, but they never progressed below 1000. So, no retroviral therapy."

"Wow," Angel marveled. He didn't look upset; rather, he was excited. Noah relaxed a little. "Have you talked to the people who did the original study?"

He nodded. "I went to Harvard to meet Dr. Walker, when he was in the country last year. They're still looking for funding for the next phase, but it's hard to come by. So I'm just waiting, but..."

Angel's response was quick. "Would you talk to the congressional HIV/AIDS caucus? I mean - write a letter, make a phone call? Personal stories make a big impact..."

Noah laughed. "Angel, nobody's going to listen to me. I'm one guy. They don't even have enough funding to complete the studies they started eight years ago. How likely is it that they'd start something new, for somebody who's ostensibly healthy?"

"Because you could make a difference," Angel insisted. "I remember the study; they could barely get enough elite controllers together to have a critical mass."

"I'll think about it, okay?" He reached out and took Angel's hand. "I've been living with the disease for five years, and it's not going anywhere." And neither am I, he wanted to add.

Angel nodded, and let Noah pull him into an embrace. He kissed him, trying not to feel his slender body as fragile, as something that could be broken. It was beyond terrifying to think that he could get sick. Was sick, and would likely get more sick. His smile was the sweetest thing Noah had ever seen.

I could lose this, said his selfish reptilian brain as he clutched him closer. God, I think I've found what I've been looking for all my life, and it's in danger of disappearing. I can't let anything happen to him. I just can't.

Blaine put up a minor protest, but when Angel reminded him that he could conceivably run into Sam at Rachel's performance, he put on his boots and his bow tie and joined them downstairs.

The lot was crowded with spectators, but it didn't take long to find Finn. He waved and made his way through the crowd, grinning.

"Quinn and I finally got the thing patched," he said. "And I think I got across some of the challenges about being Rachel's boyfriend. Girlfriend. Whatever." His grin broadened. "I feel a lot better."

"Good for you," said Angel, "bad for Quinn. But I'm kind of on your side in this, if I have to choose."

"No," said Finn, shaking his head. "No sides. They're both still our friends, no matter who Rachel chose."

It only took them five minutes mingling with the crowd before Blaine was tugging on Angel's arm.

"There he is," he said in a strangled voice. "Sam."

Sam was as appealing as Blaine had painted him, with a wide, easy smile and a toned body that looked a little on the thin side through his tight shirt. He looked somewhat wary to see Blaine, but he wasn't avoiding him, just a little distracted, trying to catch the attention of another man in the crowd. "Hey."

"Hey," said Blaine, without even being prompted. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the way-"

"Forget it," said Sam, shaking his head. He was barely looking at him, but Blaine was going on.

"I blew it." He gave him a hopeful smile. "Can I make it up to you?"

Now he had Sam's attention. "How?"

Blaine's face was red. "Um... there's this dinner party..."

Sam took a step closer to him, grinning, and ran a hand over Blaine's jacket. "That'll do."

"Hey, lover boy." Sam was knocked aside by an intervening form, a tall man in a dark coat. He sneered at Blaine, and Noah watched Angel go rigid. "You steal my client? You die."

"Fuck you," Blaine spat back. "You'll never lack for customers. You didn't miss me; you won't miss him either."

"Gentlemen." Angel's voice cut in, smooth and gentle, but easily overriding their anger. He took Blaine's and Sam's arms in both of his, drawing them away from the man. "You're needed elsewhere."

Finn put himself in between the man and Sam and Blaine, ignoring his black looks, and eventually the man wandered away to look for easier marks. Noah had to smile; Finn was good at pretending to be clueless, but Noah guessed he saw everything pretty clearly.

"Blaine's dealer," Finn said in an undertone. "Was, six months ago. I dunno, man. He doesn't need to go through this stuff all over again with somebody else."

Noah watched Blaine and Sam talking, their heads close, the way they were smiling at one another, their hands brushing. "It might be worth it."

Finn's smile was wry. "Maybe. You'll have to forgive me for not believing much in the value of love these days. But..." He shrugged. "Maybe."

(Author's note: If you have not seen the musical, you really must see Rachel's hilarious performance piece, done brilliantly here by Eden Espinoza. Point of interest: the actress who originally played this role, Maureen, on the stage and later in the movie, is Idina Menzel. Remember her? Shelby Corcoran? Okay then. Back to the story. -amy)

www dot youtube dot com slash watch?v=3QH4HpoamIQ

Rachel was a dynamic, fierce performer, and the crowd's response was enthusiastic. When Angel introduced her to Noah afterwards, she almost knocked him over with the force of her handshake.

"Thank you so much for coming to support this cause," she effused. "We're not going to stand by and watch this injustice being perpetrated on our -"

"Baby," said a low alto voice. Rachel turned to look at the cool blonde woman standing beside her in a tailored suit and expensive heels, then gave a little embarrassed laugh. The blonde held out a brisk hand for Noah to shake. "Hi. I'm Quinn. Haven't we met?"

Noah doubted it, but he'd met a lot of people. He bowed over her hand, making her smile. "I seem to recall Angel saying something about a dinner party...?"

They descended on the Life Café, making the maître d' stare in anxious shock for five seconds before shaking his head emphatically. "You can't," he pleaded. "We have an important client here tonight. Please don't..."

"Tonight our money's as good as his," said Angel, handing him a folded bill. "The group is covered, all of us. Wine and beer all around, and whatever anyone wants."

Noah took his hand as they made their way to the table. "So I know a counselor doesn't make tons of money. Can I ask where this windfall came from without making you tell any secrets?"

Angel looked uncomfortable. He settled into the chair to Noah's left, hesitating, while they passed around baskets of fries. Finally he leaned in.

"If anyone else had asked me that question," he said, "I had a story all ready to explain it, a crazy story about a dog and... well, it's not important. The fact is, I don't think I want to tell you that story and pretend it's true, so... can you accept that I came by it legally, and it belongs to me, and I really want to share it with my friends?"

Noah nodded, still curious, but he felt touched, too. "You don't have to tell me everything, you know."

Angel nodded back. "The truth is, I don't know if I can, and... it's getting to me a little."

Noah took his hand, holding his gaze. "Everything you're offering me, Angel, it's so much. Don't feel bad about one bit of it."

Angel's face was open, drinking it in, like the words Noah was saying were miraculous. "I don't. You're letting me give, and that's all I want to do."

That expression was inspiring all kinds of feelings inside of Noah, and he spent the rest of the dinner tingling with arousal. When Angel reached out to touch his thigh, he choked off a groan, letting him see what he was feeling on his face. Angel let out a surprised, nervous laugh, but he didn't let go of his thigh.

"Get a room," said Quinn, grinning as she passed the ketchup.

"Sorry, no rooms at the inn tonight," Angel said, not taking his eyes off Noah. "We're stuck being squatters."

"He said it, not me," Noah protested, when Sam started snickering. Angel's face went red, but he didn't look away.

"I'm not going to hide from this," he murmured, leaning over to kiss him. "It's way too good."

Blaine, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to do nothing but hide. He kept getting up from the table and coming down to the other end to talk with Finn or Rachel. Sam was clearly getting irritated. At one point, he sighed and got up, disappearing across the restaurant. When Blaine came back to his seat, he looked a little lost.

"He's over there," said Noah, pointing across the room, "talking to some guy in a suit."

"Oh." He looked at Angel, who sighed and stood up, taking Blaine's arm and walking him over to the table. He spoke sharply to the suit, who gave him a snide smile. Finally Blaine pulled Sam away, going over into the corner to talk in hushed, intense voices. Angel looked angry when he returned.

"Sebastian," he spat. "Apparently he knows Sam, too. Talk about an infectious disease. I can't believe Blaine ever convinced me to trust him." He gestured at the two of them, deep in conversation. "At least Blaine's talking to Sam now."

"Progress, huh?"

Angel took Noah's offered hand, shaking his head. "Blaine... doesn't trust anybody. The medications, they make him sick, and he's always tired, he doesn't want to go out. But I see the way he looks at Sam. Nobody's made Blaine smile in months. He can't let him get away."

Noah watched Blaine react to something Sam said, reach out and touch his face. They were both smiling now. "Look," he nodded. Angel caught his breath as Sam leaned down and kissed Blaine full on the mouth.

"Oh," Angel whispered, clutching tighter at Noah's hand. He leaned back against Noah, who wrapped an arm around his waist and held him, feeling his body relax.

"Better?" he murmured, nuzzling his ear. Angel shivered as he smiled.

"God, yes. If Blaine can feel like that, that's what I want for him. So many things to be thankful for, tonight."

"Hear, hear," came Finn's voice. They turned to see him grinning at them. He raised his beer bottle. "To everything awesome."

"I'll drink to that," Quinn seconded. Suddenly everybody was making toasts: to inspiration, to going against the grain, to not dying from disease.

"To dance," said Rachel brightly. Finn snorted. She took a sip of her own beer, eyes glittering. "Okay, so it's no way to make a living. Masochism, really.. pain, perfection, muscle spasms, chiropractors, short careers, eating disorders... never mind, fuck dance."

Noah shook his head, laughing helplessly, while Blaine and Sam returned to the table, hand in hand. "Not dance, then. Um... film?"

"To film!" Angel and Rachel chorused, tapping their bottles together.

"Wait, now," Finn said, holding up a hand. "The film world sucks too." He thought, then ticked off a list on his fingers. "Adventure, tedium, no family, boring locations, dark rooms... perfect faces, egos, money, Hollywood. Sleaze."

"What is this, word association?" Sam handed Blaine a glass of wine. "How about... music?"

"To music!" Angel and Rachel said gamely, giggling at each other. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Food of love," Angel added. "Emotion, mathematics, isolation... rhythm, feeling, power, harmony, heavy competition."

"Hmmm." Quinn glanced down the table. "Anarchy."

"To - mmmph." Rachel's toast was cut off as Quinn's hand went up to cover her mouth, while Finn barely concealed a laugh.

"Revolution," volunteered Noah. "Justice, screaming for solutions... forcing changes, risk, and danger, making noise."

"Making pleas," Angel added, smiling at him. "Acting up."

Angel didn't let anybody see the bill when it came, but he made it disappear without causing a commotion. Still, Noah guessed it hadn't been small. "It's Christmas," he said, when Quinn offered to pay the tip. "A bigger tip wouldn't be a problem, but it's covered."

Noah took Angel's hand and walked behind Sam and Blaine on the way back to the loft. Blaine was leaning his head on Sam's shoulder, his arm around his waist.

"He's still using," said Angel quietly. "Sam, I mean. But I can't feel anything but glad for Blaine. Love... it's a risk."

"A worthwhile one," Noah agreed. "You took a chance on me, after all."

Angel shook his head, smiling up at him. "I can't see this as a risk. It's... the way things are. Inevitable."

Noah couldn't help smirking. "Destiny?"

"If I were less of an atheist, maybe." Angel dodged a group of teenagers, laughing and shouting. "You can use whatever words you want. I'll just be here with you."

While Finn went on ahead up the stairs, Blaine paused, one floor below theirs. Sam kissed him, then gave him a promising smouldering look before disappearing down the hall. Blaine looked like he might burst into tears.

"You can take it slow," Angel told him, putting an arm around his shoulder. "You can come upstairs tonight, if you want to. He's just one floor down. He'll be there tomorrow."

"I know," said Blaine. He let out a shaky laugh, leaning into Angel. "Sam - he's positive, too."

Angel nodded. "So many of us are. You're surprised?"

"Maybe?" His voice was muffled. "It's just so much less scary, knowing I can't hurt him with my body."

"Don't go getting any crazy ideas about barebacking," Angel said, glaring at him. Noah watched Blaine's face go absolutely scarlet, but Angel wasn't letting up. "You've heard me on the safer sex soapbox for enough years. Different strains of the virus can make you sicker. And if he has hepatitis or anything else, that can really -"

"Angel," Blaine said softly, and Angel stopped, huffing. He kissed Angel gently, pulling him into a hug. "You're so good to me."

"I just want you to be around for a long time," Angel said, hugging back.

He took a few steps up the stairs, watching as Blaine followed Sam down the hall. Noah clasped his hand. "You're expecting a lot of the gay community," he said. "Guys who've already got the virus, they're not going to use condoms."

"I'm expecting the same thing of the gay community that I do of the straight community," Angel said, his voice firm. "Unprotected sex is what's killing us. I talk to kids all day who are positive, who don't want to take their meds, who are convinced it doesn't matter whether they use condoms or not. Some of them are bug chasers, looking for the virus, because they think it's a gift, or because they're sure they're going to get it eventually, and it would be better just to get it over with. I can't condone any of that. I stick with the research and try to make them see reason."

"And do they?"

Angel held the door to their loft open for Noah. "I have to believe they will," he said. He didn't sound skeptical or scared, simply determined. "My dad showed me a long time ago the difference one voice can make. I'm going to keep speaking out, in any way I can."

Noah closed the door behind them and swept Angel into his arms, kissing him hard. Angel responded with equal fervor. They heard a hesitant cough.

"Good night, Finn," called Angel, not looking away from Noah. Finn sighed.

"Looks like it's video editing for me tonight."

"Is that what they call it now?" Noah murmured into his neck, making Angel giggle.

"Don't feel too bad for him. He and Rachel made plenty of noise the whole time she was living here." He tugged Noah back, a few steps at a time, toward his little room, kissing him the whole time.

"Is that what you're planning to do?" asked Noah, grinning. "Make plenty of noise?"

"Oh, honey." Angel reached down and began unbuttoning his shirt, his face suffused with intense anticipation. "Noise is only one of the things we'll be making tonight."

The city was a little more quiet at one in the morning when Noah stumbled out to find the bathroom. It occurred to him that squatters shouldn't have running water, but they did seem to, and he wondered how legal it was. The toilet flushed, anyway, even if the bathroom had been gutted and the mirror was cracked. He wore his coat, because the temperature outside Angel's windowless room with the blanket for a door was a good fifteen degrees colder than it was inside, even with the wood burning stove fired up. He went looking for a glass to get some water and see if it was drinkable.

He heard a quiet voice, which after a minute he identified as Finn's, on the other side of another blanketed space. "He had a lot of fun doing it," Finn was saying, sounding amused. "I don't think he ever thinks about what else he could be doing with the money besides spending it on us. Thanks, anyway, for sending it."

Noah found the running water tap, turning it on low so as not to disturb Finn's conversation. It sounded like an important one.

"Yeah, I don't miss it so much, if you can believe that. Maybe the sports, but I can catch most games at the bar. TV just seems... so extra. Well, things change, you know?" He laughed. "We'll just have to see."

There was a brief pause, then Noah heard Finn sigh. "I think he's fine? Not that he'd tell me, unless it got real bad, like last summer. If his T-cells dropped that low again, he said he'd go to the clinic." Another pause. "Dude, I don't think I can talk about my stepbrother's bathroom habits."

Noah turned off the water, bumping against the furniture on his way through the shadowy room. He heard Finn go quiet for a moment. "Um - I'd better go. Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too. Tell Mom I love her. And yeah, I'll do my best. Bye."

"It's Noah," he said softly, seeing the shadow of Finn's blanket door move and the shape emerge from his room. "I was just getting some water."

"Hey," said Finn, yawning. "I'm on my way to bed."

Noah lingered, wondering if Finn realized he'd heard the rest of that conversation. "I'm guessing your parents expected a call on Christmas?"

"Kind of. Angel's dad, my stepdad... they don't really talk. I'm, like, the go-between."

"Homophobic?"

"Oh - no." Finn laughed. "He's awesome. But he doesn't agree with... the way Angel's living. And they're both stubborn, so it's frustrating, getting stuck in the middle of the two of them. I just try to call his dad every now and then and let them know how things are going, even if Angel won't."

Noah smiled to himself, feeling the warm space inside him where thoughts of Angel had set up residence. "I don't talk much to my Ma, either, so I guess I get it."

He could see Finn a little now, in the light from the window. It was chilly enough that he could see his breath in the air, rising and dissipating into the darkness of the room. "Yeah, but... Angel's dad, he's... not like most dads. They used to be really, really close. And now, I still see them a couple times a year, but even when he's in the city for work and stuff, Angel won't talk to him."

"Because... why?"

Finn didn't answer right away. He sounded reluctant. "Because Angel quit all the other things he was doing out here to take care of Blaine, when he got sick. And he never started them up again. He got caught up in his activist work. I think his dad saw that what he was doing was important, but he thought the way Angel was doing it wasn't the right way?"

Noah could tell Finn wasn't telling him everything, but he didn't want to push too hard, seeing as how he'd just met him. "So... what, he sent you out here to keep an eye on him?"

"Something like that. I transferred to NYU, finished my degree, and Angel..."

"He finished his, too?" Noah prompted.

Finn sighed, running a hand over his neck. "No. He didn't."

"But he said he was working as a counselor."

"Sort of. I mean, don't get me wrong, he does amazing work, but it's a little unorthodox. They pay him practically nothing, because that's what they have."

Noah felt like he was missing something important. "But - he's a smart guy. I mean, I've hung out with academics long enough to know what I'm talking about, and I can spot an educated kid. Angel could go to college, no problem."

"I think you'd better talk to Angel about this." He couldn't see Finn's face, but Noah didn't get the feeling that he was upset. "He's... private, about some things, but I think he'll tell you if you ask. It's clear he likes you a lot."

"I... like him, too." Noah took a deep breath. "A lot. Is it okay, that I'm pretty much crashing your pad, here? Angel said there was room, but -"

"Sure, yeah. It's fine. It's not our place, anyway, right? No more than tent city downstairs is theirs." Finn leaned on the makeshift counter. "We lived in shelters for a while, when Blaine first got sick. It sucked. At least here we have some privacy - but there's no guarantee we're going to get to stay, not if Sebastian gets his way. So the more the merrier, while it lasts."

Noah shifted backwards, feeling that pull inside him to return to Angel, sleeping on the mattress. "I'm gonna..." he said, gesturing with his water glass.

"Yeah. Good night, man."

Noah carefully set the glass of water next to the mattress, taking off his coat and climbing back under the blankets. He felt bad putting his cold feet on Angel's warm legs, but Angel reached for him immediately, murmuring, "Come here and let me warm you up, honey."

It was more than Angel's body that warmed him. He sighed into the care he felt in those hands around his back. Noah was accustomed to the company of men, but this was so much more than company. He kissed him - and realized Angel's cheeks were wet.

"Hey," he said, with a prickle of unease, "what happened? Are you okay?"

Angel hung on tighter, burying his face into Noah's neck. "Yes, I'm okay."

"Was it... I mean, what we did, was it...?"

"No, no - it's nothing about that. Everything was amazing." He kissed Noah's cheek. "I'm just thinking about all the kids who are alone tonight, on Christmas. Missing their families, in shelters, squatting, on the street." Noah could hear the distress in his voice. "They have nothing but a whole bunch of really hard options, and most of them see no way out of the system. The way I'm offering them, it's not any easier, and they can't see the long term ramifications of their actions. They just think, I'm positive, I'm gay, I've got no home. My body's worthless, except to make money."

Noah slipped his fingers inside Kurt's clenched fists. "That's a lot of heavy things to have on your mind on Christmas."

"Yeah, well... there's no Christmas for them. No Santa Claus, no stocking, no hearth." He shook his head. "And I'm trying to show them, if they take their meds, and they're careful, they can have a future. The virus doesn't have to be a death sentence. But - there are so many kids, and so many of them refuse the meds. They say it's too hard, it's too much work, it makes me feel like shit. All of which are true."

Noah felt the guilt for his own improbable, undeserved health shadowing him as he held Angel's body in his arms. He didn't understand why this was so important to him. "It's not your job to save every sick kid in the city, Angel."

He felt Angel stiffen under him, then pull away. It was dark, but Angel could sense him fuming. "Who's job is it, then?" he snapped. "The mayor? They cut 6 million dollars in funding for homeless services in the past two years. A disproportionate number, an overwhelming number of the kids who'd be served by that funding - over a third - are gay. They're having sex for money, for drugs, to survive. They're getting sick because they aren't getting the support they need."

"You're helping," said Noah, but Angel wasn't hearing him. He shook his head, struggling against Noah's arms.

"It's not enough. I think I've got them, got their attention, getting them to take their meds, finding a regimen that works for them, getting them back into school - and then funding for their prescriptions dries up. Or they leave the shelter and don't come back. Or their boyfriend beats them senseless. Or one of a million other things happens, and... I lose them." He was crying in earnest now, and it was all Noah could do to hold on.

He took a deep breath and turned to Angel, pressing kisses into his neck. "God, you're so generous, babe. The world hands you shit, and still, all you want to do is give."

"No. You don't understand. The world handed me amazing things - so many things. I've been so lucky, Noah." Angel scrubbed the tears out of his eyes. "But these kids have nothing. And when I try to give them something, they can't see the value in it. They can't, because they can't believe they could ever have anything better than what they've got. Like they don't deserve it, or they're not important enough to have it."

Listening to him, to Angel's wide vision of the world, Noah's own fears and concerns felt very small and petty. Angel, indeed. He petted Angel's hair, feeling how soft it was, and cradled him close while he cried. "You're showing them. You could make anybody feel worthwhile."

"It just feels so impossible," he whispered through his tears. "Sometimes I wonder if my - if some people were right. That this is all pointless."

"Hey. No." Noah had no idea if it was or if it wasn't, but he knew he couldn't let Angel believe that. "Babe... listen to me. You're - I don't know where you came from, or how you got this way, but you're, like, this magical creature. There's not supposed to be anybody like you. And I don't know how I got so fucking lucky to meet you today, but you're changing me, already. I can feel it. I'm a cynic and a lost cause if ever there was one, and you're changing me." He kissed him, desperate now to make him know it. "If you can do that... you've got a shot at changing them, too."

Angel took a gasping, sobbing breath, and then another. "It's just so scary... god, Noah, it's so scary. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"And you're doing it anyway. Damn, Angel... that's the most courageous thing I've ever heard."

He held him tight, tighter, until his sobs calmed and quieted, until eventually Angel's breathing slowed and became even. Noah tucked Angel's sleeping form against him, into the cocoon of his body, and didn't let go for the rest of the night.

The room was still dark when Noah woke, shifting on the mattress. The air was chilly, but their breathing and body heat had kept the room reasonably warm. Noah dragged a hand over Angel's bare hip, remembering how he'd gripped it last night, the way Angel had responded so beautifully to his touch. Angel had opened his body to Noah as easily and joyously as he'd opened his heart. Noah found his hands sweeping over Angel's sleeping body, clutching him tighter.

"This is real?" he whispered, mostly to himself, but Angel replied drowsily, turning his head to kiss Noah over his shoulder.

"Everything."

Noah groaned, feeling his body respond to Angel's closeness, the smell of him. He fumbled on the floor for a condom package. "I don't know if I believe it."

"I think that might be my line," Angel said, his morning voice both lower and sweeter, and more erotic than Noah knew how to handle. Noah let him relax against the bed, climbing between his legs. He shivered to hear Angel's gasp and groan as he pressed against him. "You took something from me last night. Something I was glad to give. I think - god, yes - I need a reminder of just how that felt."

Last night had been slow and careful, because as much as they had both been ready for it, Noah hadn't been about to let Angel's first time be anything less than gentle. This morning, however, he found himself moving faster, thrusting a little harder, relying on Angel to tell him to slow down or stop if it was too much. But Angel met him gladly, not holding back in the least, and in mere minutes, Noah found himself gasping out his climax.

"Fuck, babe," he said, his legs shaky. "Never had a control problem before. You're making me lose my cool in all kinds of ways."

"Yeah?" Angel sounded delighted by this idea. "Maybe you'd let me return the favor."

Noah didn't typically bottom, but he would be damned if he was going to deny Angel the opportunity to try all the things he wanted to try. "Absolutely. Um - right now, or...?"

Angel was slim, but deceptively strong. He found himself lifted and flipped with ease, Angel straddling his hips and staring down at him.

"Right now sounds good," he said.

It was a good thing it was a weekend, because by the time they made it out of the bedroom, it was well past noon. Blaine was on the couch when they emerged, noodling on his guitar and looking all kinds of relaxed. If it had still been dark out, Angel's smile could have lit up the room.

"Noah, honey," said Angel, digging into his messenger bag and pulling out a handful of bills, "would you walk down to Kossar's and pick up a dozen bagels for us? I think Blaine and I need a little time to squeal over our amazing men."

Noah considered finding Finn and dragging him out with him, just so Finn wouldn't feel stuck listening to that, but he decided he could use a little alone time to clear his head. The day was just as snowy and grey as it had been yesterday, but he put his hands in the pockets of his new coat, feeling the crisp bills between his fingers, and whistled as he trotted down the stairs of the loft to the street.

I don't just have a job anymore, he thought, feeling giddy. I have a coat, and my guitar, and a place to stay. And a boyfriend.

Act II

October 31, 2016

Voice mail left on Representative Burt Hummel's personal line, three days prior: "Mr. Hummel, I'm sorry to introduce myself this way, but I didn't know what else to do. My name's Noah Puckerman, and I've been dating... your son, for the past ten months. I know his real name now, but we all call him Angel, so that's what I'm going to use. (sighs) I feel like there's a lot I want to say, but I'm just going to jump to the reason I called. Angel's had a hard October. He's pushing himself a little too hard, and his lymph nodes are enlarged, and he's been running a fever. He's exhausted, and he won't slow down enough to go to the clinic. So I took Finn's phone and used the history to find your number, and... I figured out who you are. I guess I have some ideas about why Angel hasn't been in touch with you, but this is more important. I'm going to take the day off work and bring him to the emergency room at Gouverneur tomorrow, no matter what he says. I figured, the timing is awful, but at least you might want to know where he is. I'd like to say you could call me back on this phone, but I think Finn would have my head. Not that he's not awesome too, because I guess you're his stepdad or something... anyway. (coughs) Let me give you my own cell number. Thanks, if you haven't hung up on me yet. And, um... good luck next week. If it means anything, you've got my vote."

Noah saw the secret service agents first. From his vantage point of the waiting room, he had a good view of the elevators. There were two of them, and they took a long sweep through before approaching the nurses at the reception desk to speak with them. Noah watched the nurses' expressions go from suspicious to overwhelmed, and he guessed he knew what might happen next.

"Is that Burt Hummel?" he heard the woman sitting next to him say. "I didn't know he was planning to be in the city this close to the election."

Pretty sure he wasn't, Noah thought, rising to his feet. He'd been doing enough sitting.

Mr. Hummel was wearing one of his signature flannel shirts and a Cleveland Browns baseball cap. He slowed as Noah moved to intercept him.

"You must be Noah," he said. "Finn told me you've barely left this place in three days."

"Yeah, well, they keep kicking me out at night, but I keep coming back." He held out a hand, and Mr. Hummel shook it. "I've had three days to get used to this, and I've gotta say, I'm still a little shocked."

"I think it's something you've gotta get used to around my kid," Mr. Hummel adjusted his ballcap. "Always has been a little on the shocking side. How's he doing?"

"Okay, as far as I know. He hasn't let me in to see him since I brought him to the emergency room on Friday. Yeah, he didn't appreciate that at all. I told him I was taking him out for lunch."

"What, to the hospital cafeteria?" He was smiling. "I doubt Kurt would eat that stuff, even if he was healthy."

Kurt. Noah sighed. "Do you... I mean, I can't imagine you've got much time, but..."

"I'm not leaving until I'm sure Kurt's okay," Mr. Hummel said firmly. "I think he lost the right to ignore me when he stopped taking care of himself. He can throw as big a bitch fit as he likes, but I'm still his father." He turned and spoke briefly with the suit on his left, then turned back to Noah. "Can you show me where his room is?"

Noah led the way down the hall, the suits trailing them. "They were talking about transferring him to the Leicht Center for HIV patients, but I think they wanted to wait until some tests came back. Angel... hasn't really kept me in the loop."

"Yeah, he tends to do things his own way, or not at all." Mr. Hummel didn't seem upset by this idea, but he frowned as he paused outside Angel's room, eyeing the Standard Isolation Precautions - Wear Gloves sign. "You coming in?"

"He's made it pretty clear he doesn't want to see me," said Noah, but Mr. Hummel just gave him a wry smile.

"Yeah, he's said the same thing to me more than once. Kurt - sorry, Angel does a great job of taking care of everyone except himself. He'll push you away if you let him." He tilted his head. "But from what Finn's told me about you, you're not going anywhere."

Noah found himself grinning back. "I'm stubborn that way. So Finn's been narcing on me all this time?"

"He's kind of my undercover agent in Kurt's life, except Kurt knows he's doing it, so it's not all that undercover. Plus Finn's never been good at subtle." He opened the door, gesturing with his head. Noah braced himself and followed him in. The secret service agent stayed outside the room, looking official.

Angel's eyes were closed, but he stirred and blinked as Noah shut the door behind him. He glowered at Noah as soon as he spotted him. "I told you not to come here."

"I asked him to come in."

Angel's head whipped around to see Mr. Hummel by the window. His eyes flew open, and he struggled to sit up. "Dad, what - what are you doing here? It's a week until the election, you can't -"

"Hey, I haven't gotten to the point of this thing where I'm not in charge of my own life, yet. So when I hear my son isn't doing so well, you bet I'm gonna drop everything and show up. Just like you've done for me, more than once."

Noah took in the expression on Mr. Hummel's face with startling recognition. No, they didn't look much alike, but their eyes, their determination, the set of their jaws - it was clear that Angel was Burt Hummel's son. He watched Angel huff and huddle in on himself.

"I suppose Finn told you right away where you could find me, once I couldn't leave."

"No, that was Noah." Mr. Hummel came over to the bed as Angel turned his outraged expression on Noah. "Hey, don't give him that look. You promised me, if I let you do this, you would take care of yourself, but you're not really following through on that, are you?"

"There was no letting me, Dad." His voice was icy. "I'm an adult, I make my own decisions about how to live my life."

"You do," he agreed. "And you know what I think about that, and I've tried to respect your wishes. But there's only one week left now. Nothing you do or say is going to change the minds of enough voters to make a difference." Angel looked away as Mr. Hummel sat carefully on the bed beside him. He put a hand on Angel's leg under the blanket. "Isn't it time I get to have my son back?"

Angel's face twisted in pain, and he forced his eyes shut. "Now you're not playing fair."

"I'm not playing anything," Mr. Hummel said gently. "I love you. My plane's not leaving until tonight. You gonna make me sit out in the waiting room, too?"

Noah turned and slipped out the door as Angel crumpled into his father's arms. He deserved as long a moment as Angel was willing to give him. The agent outside the door looked up as he emerged.

"How's Kurt doing?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I think he'll be okay," Noah replied, feeling the words come out slowly. He wondered if he should go back to the loft. Maybe Finn would talk to him now that Angel's - Kurt's dad had showed up. "You know him? Kurt?"

The agent nodded. "There're going to be a lot of people who are relieved to hear about him. He's been MIA for years, him and his stepbrother."

"I guess he's been kind of... off the grid." He felt the warring impulses of betrayal and fear on Angel's behalf. "Changed his name, stopped carrying a cell phone, no computer."

The agent looked perplexed. "Why?"

"I don't really know." Maybe the nurses would take pity on him and give him something for his headache. Before he could head toward the elevator, however, Mr. Hummel came out of the room.

"He's ready to talk to you. I'm gonna send one of my guys to get some chicken and meatball sandwiches from Parm, which is apparently something Kurt will eat and thinks I would like. Then I'm gonna sit out here and call my wife and let her know what's going on while he fills you in. And then..." He shrugged. "Maybe the three of us can sit and talk."

"I don't want to take up your time with him," Noah said, but Mr. Hummel reached out and gripped his shoulder, shaking his head.

"I want to know what's going on in my son's life. Apparently, you're it. I think it's time we get to know each other." Mr. Hummel's lips twitched. "Starting next week, I'm either going to be even more insanely busy, or I'm going to have a lot more time on my hands. Either way, I say we take advantage of the time we've got."

"No day but today," Noah muttered. "Yeah... okay. Thanks."

Angel was sitting up in bed, blowing his nose. Noah could see clearly in the hospital gown how much weight he'd lost. He approached him tentatively.

"Hate me too much to give me a hug?" he asked.

Angel shook his head. "I don't hate you at all. I'm the one who owes you an apology. And a long explanation."

Noah sat beside him, gathering him into his arms. For a long minute, he just held him. "I told you, you don't owe me anything. I knew you had things to hide, and I never asked for the whole truth. Okay, granted, I didn't expect your dad to be Burt Hummel, but..."

He felt Angel's body relaxing, leaning into the embrace as he sighed. "I should have just told you everything from the beginning. Even on that first day, it felt wrong, lying to you." He reached for another tissue, sitting back. "But maybe you'll understand, once I tell you a little more about why we left Lima."

Noah blinked. "Left - you lived in Lima?"

Angel smiled through his tears. "That's where I grew up. My dad had an auto shop. My mom... I told you about the car accident. After the contaminated blood transfusion, there was a settlement, but my dad went a little nuts. He was terrified of me going through what Ryan White did, all the stigma around being a kid and being positive. We kept it as quiet as we could, but word got out about my status, and eventually I ended up transferring to another school out of town. That's where I met Blaine."

Noah shifted closer to Angel, who made room for him beside him on the bed. "Yeah. Once I found out who you were, I went and looked you up. You were pretty politically involved after high school. All that stuff with the Mayor's office?"

Angel grimaced. "I kind of jumped in with both feet, using my dad's influence to get attention. It was good for funding, but not so good for my dad's political career. Critics started in right away on me being gay. I think he got more hate calls than I did, that first year, even before he decided to launch his presidential campaign."

"So... what, you just... vanished? To save his career?"

"And mine," Angel insisted. "I was doing important work, work I could believe in, for the first time in my life. It wasn't about fashion or performing, it was about something real. But the kids, they weren't listening to me when I was Kurt Hummel. I needed to get closer, to drop the public persona and really relate to them."

Noah nodded slowly. "I... well, I guess I thought... it was like method acting, or something. Getting into character. Angel."

"He's as much me as I've ever been," said Angel softly, resting his head on Noah's chest. "I haven't been pretending. It's just a name, but it's really me inside."

Noah kissed his temple. "You want me to start calling you Kurt instead?"

"I have no idea. Maybe. I think... things might change a lot in a week if my dad gets elected. If I'm going to be honest, I'm going to have to start by telling everybody at the shelter." He felt him shaking. "I don't think they're going to like that I've been lying to them."

"People don't generally like finding that out, no. But I think most of them will listen to why you did it, and make up their own minds. You'll lose some of them, and you'll keep others." He held Angel closer. "But... babe, I don't think you're going back to work until you get better."

"What if I don't get better?" Angel whispered. Noah felt the fear twist inside him, a fist in his gut.

"You know the answer to that."

Angel took a breath. "There's only us... there's only this... forget regret, or life is yours to miss. Seems kind of hollow when I think about the crap I put my dad through these past three years."

"He's not going anywhere either." Noah could tell it was true, just from the few moments he'd seen between them. He turned, holding Angel at arm's length. "You going to be honest with me now?"

"Yes," he replied immediately.

"I'll be honest, too. The way you've been pushing yourself, working too hard... it's scaring me. I don't think I can take seeing you do that, not if it's going to make you sick."

Angel nodded, his eyes spilling over again. "I'm sorry."

Noah took the tissue from his hand and wiped his eyes. "The night we met, you took care of me, cleaned my wounds and got me back on my feet. You've covered me for months. Maybe now you'll let me do the same for you?"

For however long we have together, he knew was the unspoken caveat. But how is that any different from the way things are for anyone else, anyway? Angel was here, in his arms, willing to try. It was enough.

Mr. Hummel returned with the sandwiches. Fifteen minutes into the conversation, he had both Noah and Angel laughing, listening to his anecdotes from the campaign trail. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that Burt Hummel was exactly who he appeared to be on television - which was, of course, why he'd been so popular in the polls.

"I knew going into this I probably wasn't going to win," he said, shrugging. "My opponent's too well connected, and I'm too inexperienced. But it's not because people don't like what I have to say, and that's encouraging. Now, the numbers are close enough that I don't really know what's going to happen. Only three presidents have ever been elected from sitting House office." He wiped tomato sauce off his hand. "Should be interesting."

Mr. Hummel told Noah to call him Burt. After he slipped three times and called Angel Kurt, Angel just threw up his hands and said, "Fine; I might as well get used to it again."

"Yeah, well, I've been calling you that for over twenty years. Old and senile wins."

Kurt told his dad about how Blaine sold his guitar and left town after Sam went into rehab. "He couldn't deal when Sam got back together with Sebastian," he said.

"Yeah, but it wasn't about that at all," Noah added. "Sam wasn't in love with him. Sebastian had to see that. I'm pretty sure he did it to save the building for us."

Burt frowned. "Any way I can persuade you to get out of that building now?"

"I know it scares the crap out of you, Dad." Kurt glanced at Noah. "We..."

"I've got a deposit and first month saved up," Noah interrupted. "There's a couple places I've been looking at in the East Village we might be able to afford, assuming I can keep my job."

Kurt stared at him. "You really want to going to go back to paying rent?"

"I really want you to have heat and electricity," Noah snapped. "I'm not sacrificing your health for your goddamn politics."

Burt laughed. "Yeah, Finn told me I was going to like you. Kurt, nobody's saying what you're doing isn't important..."

"We've had this argument before, dad. You're not going to convince me you're right today." But he was still looking at Noah, his cheeks flushed. "You've been looking at apartments?"

"I wouldn't leave without you. But I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to another winter like last year. It's getting cold again. That coat is only going to keep me warm so long, you know."

He leaned back on the bed. "I think I need to think about this, Noah."

Burt stood. "We're going to let you rest for a while, kiddo. I'm going to talk to your doctors and see what I can find out." He kissed him, smiling. "God, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too, dad." Kurt didn't watch them leave, his eyes already closed. Burt's smile was gone when he shut the door behind him. They walked back to the family waiting room together.

"He looks better than I'd expected," he said. "Whatever you've been doing, I'd say keep it up."

"I don't know how much of that is me," said Noah, feeling his face heat up. "We haven't even been together a year."

Burt was already getting his phone out. "My wife and I, most of our savings have gone to the campaign, but we've had money saved up, waiting for Kurt and Finn to be willing to accept it. If you can convince them to take it, we can help you with a down payment on a place."

"You mean, buy an apartment? I doubt Kurt's any more willing to get a mortgage than he is to pay rent." Noah sank down into a chair in the waiting room.

"You're as exhausted as he is. Believe me, I know exhausted." Burt paused in his call, giving him a keen look. "You're not sick, though."

He didn't see any point in not being honest. "I'm positive, too. But I've never needed retrovirals to keep my T-cell count up. They call it being an elite controller. It's been over six years since my diagnosis, and I haven't been sick, no meds."

"Huh. I read about that." Burt seemed distracted, but Noah suspected he was paying attention, and he wouldn't forget. "I have to take these calls, and then I'm going to get these doctors to tell me what they know. You want to go home and get a couple hours sleep?"

Noah didn't really want to leave, but he nodded. "I'll bring Finn back with me when I come. I'm sure he'll want to see you."

The hospital signed a waiver to let Kurt leave for dinner, with the understanding he'd return directly. The tests showed that Kurt was doing all right, that his CD4 count was over 350, and while he was still dealing with infection and fever, his body seemed to be managing it. They wanted to keep him for observation for a couple more days, but then he could go home.

They went to Peter Luger for steak, at Mr. Hummel's insistence. Finn didn't stop talking for half an hour, while Kurt and his dad watched him, grinning.

"I signed a contract in February, to take the footage I've shot of the kids Angel - I mean Kurt - was working with, do a documentary. It's okay, they've all signed waivers, but... I feel weird about it. I've been shooting without a script, trying to keep it real, you know? And now I'm wondering if I shouldn't just let that go. Using their lives to tell a story, maybe that's irresponsible. And now Rachel wants me to write a script and she'll star in it, and Quinn wants to manage it..."

"Finn," said Burt. "Breathe. You're doing good work."

"Yeah. Okay." He laughed, taking a bite of his steak. "I guess it's time to see what we have time to see."

Burt turned to Kurt. "Have you heard from Blaine at all?"

"We called him last month. He's doing all right, but I know he's missing the city. And Sam. But he said he thinks he knows how the rest of his song should go. Maybe he'll get a guitar and try again." He gave his dad a wistful smile. "He's never been very good at being happy, but... I think he's on his way."

Kurt didn't eat much, but Noah knew it had more to do with the medication and the exhaustion than lack of interest. They packed up his leftovers with a promise to bully the nurses into letting him have it for lunch the next day.

"Dad," he said, "I want you to talk to the senate about increasing funding on research for elite controllers."

"On it," Burt said. He smirked cheerfully at Kurt's astonishment. "Noah and I already covered that. I mean, you can tell me your story, but I made two phone calls today to talk to members of the HAB, and they're looking into the status of the grant that's already in process. Barbara Boxer's interested in talking to you, Noah."

Noah glanced at Kurt, trying not to feel overwhelmed. "So this is how it's going to be from now on?"

"Pretty much," said Finn, taking another enormous bite of steak.

Mr. Hummel brought them back to the hospital on his way to the airport. Noah shook Burt's hand, then watched while he hugged first Finn, then Kurt.

"This isn't the beginning of another three years apart," Burt warned him. "No matter what happens next Tuesday, I'm not letting that happen again."

"All right, Dad," Kurt agreed. "How about I give you a call when I get home? You can tell everyone I'm fine."

"Maybe you'd let me get you a cell phone?" Burt laughed when Kurt glared at him. "Okay... one step at a time. I love you, kiddo." He grinned at Noah. "You keep doing what you're doing, all right?"

"Yes, sir," said Noah. "I'll do that."

Noah brought Kurt back to his room while Finn headed home. The nurses gave him a pointed look when he followed Kurt into his room, but it had been three days, and he wasn't not going to say goodnight to his boyfriend.

"I miss you," he told Kurt, snuggling against him on his bed. "Your bed is cold without you, even with my coat on top."

Kurt sighed, wrapping his arm around him like a blanket. "I'll be back soon to help you warm it up."

"And, uh." He felt the flush on his cheeks. "This might be a little irresponsible and maybe jumping the gun, but..."

"What?" Kurt looked intrigued.

He shook his head. "I read a paper recently that suggests that long-term lovers infected with HIV but no other STDs don't run the risk of superinfection, as they'd suspected before. So, I was thinking... I mean, you have no reason to trust me, but we've both been tested, and I don't have any plans to be with anyone else, so - oh."

Noah found himself flat on his back as Kurt tugged him down with one strong yank, swinging a leg over to straddle him. Even exhausted and sick, he was still formidable. He took Noah's face in both hands and kissed him.

"I have no reason to trust you?" he said breathlessly. "How about because I love you?"

Noah's head swam, but the words came to his lips, and he had no choice but to speak them. "I - I love you, too."

"And we can wait as long as you want, and -" Kurt fluttered his hand, an inconsequential thing. "- keep using condoms, or whatever makes you feel like it's a reasonable, rational decision, but -"

"Screw reasonable and rational," Noah declared. "What they say about life being too short, I'm beginning to agree with them."

"Yeah." Kurt kissed him again, more gently this time, but no less thoroughly. "And I was thinking about what you said. About the apartment." He took a deep breath. "If you think that would be better for me, I'm going to listen to you. We can rent, or buy, or whatever makes most sense. As long as you don't expect me to stop working."

Noah stared up at him. "God, Kurt... no. I'm not going to ask you to do that. Just give me a chance to take care of you a little. Any day I don't get to spend with you from now on is wasted. This. I want this."

"Let you take care of me... I think I can do that." He smiled. "You make it easy to let you. Only us... only this."

"Yes." Noah took Kurt's head and rested it against his, closing his eyes against the impact of the promise. "No day but today."

THE END

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