Title: Temporal Quandary (epilogue)
Pairing: Staine
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: "I don't want to hurt you."
Disclaimers/Warnings: No infringement intended. Technical and medical inaccuracies abound.

A/N: Sadness, for the end is here. At least of this story. There's a threequel coming up to the Temporal series, so if you have questions, there's a reason. :oP Reminder, you can also find all my Staine fics on my tumblr (jaylie12 there too).

...

Blaine woke up again in the middle of the night, dreams filled with soft music, smooth fabrics, stars, and strong arms around him lingering at the edge of consciousness. He took a slow breath and let it out, his lungs feeling tight and a dull pain thrumming through his abdomen. He blinked, eyelids sluggish and vision blurry. Blinking some more helped.

He tried to tip his head up, but it felt too heavy and his body uncooperative. Instead, he turned his head, gray metal bars coming into his view. He stared at them for a long moment, not quite comprehending what they were. But then, he looked down and saw Steve-head cushioned awkwardly on the crook of his elbow barely on the edge of the bed, and turned away from him, hair askew. He noticed the warmth around his hand and wrist, and knew immediately that it was Steve's long fingers holding onto him. Blaine wiggled his fingers, squeezing weakly at Steve's thumb. Steve squeezed back, warm breath sighing out of him and ghosting over Blaine's forearm.

"Good to see you awake. Can I get you anything?" a voice asked quietly. Blaine tipped his head, blinking at the source of the question. Bruce's face swam into focus, face lined with concern and fatigue. Panic had Blaine blinking again, trying to clear the haze of sleep, and he lifted his unoccupied hand clumsily. Bruce grabbed it quickly with both of his, leaning closer.

"You're okay," Bruce soothed.

"Ship?" Blaine mumbled around his sluggish tongue.

"The ship's gone. We're at Stark Tower."

"Steve?" Blaine asked, voice gaining strength. Bruce shot the sleeping Steve a wry expression.

"He's well enough. Just tired. Tried to stay up the whole time you were out."

"How long?"

"Almost two days."

"Hero," Blaine huffed out, though his eyes lingered on Steve's head.

"Yeah," Bruce chuckled as he settled Blaine's arm back at his side. He retrieved a small cup with a straw, guiding it to Blaine's lips. "Small sips," he directed.

Blaine did as instructed, the tepid water both soothing and revitalizing.

"Hulk?" he asked, voice clear even though his brain still felt disjointed.

"Still absent. We're running tests."

Bruce offered the straw to Blaine again, who took two slightly bigger sips.

When Bruce set the cup back on the table, he suggested, "Sleep. Now that the doctor knows you're awake, no doubt they will want you up bright an early for a follow-up cat scan."

Blaine nodded as best he could, eyelids already closing.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"What for?"

"For not letting him stay with me on the ship," Blaine managed before sleep pulled him under again.

Bruce brushed the hair from Blaine's forehead and breathed out a somber, "Yeah."

Blaine stayed in the medical ward for several days, the nurses closely monitoring his wound for any signs of internal bleeding or infection. They took daily blood samples and redressed his injury.

Steve's I.V. came out after Blaine had been awake for an hour and they'd shared a lunch of soup and juice. He'd given blood samples just as often as Blaine, per Bruce's orders. Steve stayed for much of the time, only leaving to shower and change every morning when Pepper came by. He refused his own bed, and his own room, only conceding to recline the armchair when Blaine threatened to get up and go in search of a bed.

Two days after Blaine woke, the doctor authorized solid foods and short trips to the bathroom and down the hall. Relieved, Blaine had tossed the blanket off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The resulting stretch and pain in his abdomen had him hunched over, eyes closed and breathing deliberate. Steve was by Blaine's side immediately, arms itching to grab Blaine up and carry him. But his strength hadn't returned. So, Steve rubbed his back until Blaine steadied his breathing. With a tight grip to Steve's arm, Blaine slid off the bed onto trembling legs. Together, they made their way to the nurse's station, where Blaine chatted with the nurses and promised a song for them when he was fully recovered. Natasha and Clint were by the door when they returned, and they both gave Blaine rare smiles.

The days passed easier after that, Blaine getting stronger and Steve keeping less of an eye on him. They joked about Steve being "normal" again, and Blaine couldn't stifle his laughter when Steve sneezed at the flowers Pepper brought. Steve took the ribbing good-naturedly.

Blaine stayed another four days, until he was eating regularly, walking the entirety of the medical ward, and able to keep down the oral pain killers. Dr. Warren released him under the condition he stayed in Stark Tower for another week, his wound still needing daily check-ups and redressing. Blaine agreed readily, wanting nothing more than to sink into bed upstairs in the quiet of Steve's apartment, with Steve by his side.

"Steve?" Blaine asked sleepily, opening his eyes to the dimly lit room.

"What do you need?" Steve inquired, up from his chair set next to the bed.

Blaine looked at Steve's concerned expression, stretched his hand out on the mattress palm up, and quietly said, "You."

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and took Blaine's hand, smile ghosting his lips.

"Come sleep with me," Blaine murmured. He tugged on Steve's hand, but Steve resisted.

"Go back to sleep," Steve said with a chuckle.

"With you," Blaine protested.

"I don't want to hurt you," Steve revealed after a beat. Blaine squeezed Steve's hand.

"Won't," Blaine said with a lazy shake of his head. "Sleep better with you," Blaine pouted.

Steve looked at Blaine, hair mussed and bandages still wrapped around his torso, eyes barely open and lips in an exaggerated pout. Steve huffed a laugh and conceded, reaching over to turn off the lamp.

The first night back in Steve's bed, Blaine had taken his pain medication and promptly fallen asleep. He awoke to Steve bringing him breakfast in bed. The second, Steve had excused himself, saying he needed to talk to Bruce. Blaine had fallen asleep soon after, awakening in the early morning to Steve sleeping in the living room armchair now beside the bed. So tonight, when Steve finally slid under the covers, Blaine maneuvered Steve's arm under his neck and shoulders and settled Steve's other arm over his chest, clear of the bandages. Steve curled around Blaine's uninjured side, kissing Blaine's temple when Blaine sighed contentedly. Blaine tipped his head up and kissed Steve back lightly, wrapping his fingers around Steve's arm across his chest.

The position wasn't that comfortable, but both fell asleep to the sound of each other breathing. And they slept well into the morning, still wrapped around each other.

"I need to get to class," Blaine said, lifting his head from Steve's shoulder. When Steve did not loosen his arms from around Blaine's back, he leaned up and kissed him, soft and tender, smiling as he pulled away. "I'm okay."

"You should be resting."

Blaine soothed his palms over Steve's arms.

"Bruce and Dr. Warren both cleared me. I've already been gone three weeks. I can't miss anymore class if I want to graduate this spring."

"We still don't know what they did to you."

"Or you," Blaine countered with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"Yes, but I'm fine."

"Oh, I know," Blaine smirked, squeezing Steve's biceps teasingly. After being under Bruce's scrutiny for several days, he confirmed that despite not having the health and regenerative powers from the serum, Steve maintained the body and muscle mass. After resting and eating regular meals, Steve still found it difficult to get through the day with this new contradictory body. So when Blaine was well enough, they had spent a little time each day in Steve's personal gym—Blaine working with a physical therapist so as not to damage his healing injury and Steve focusing on aerobic activity to strengthen his heart and lungs.

"Blaine," Steve chastised, trying to keep the smile from his lips.

Blaine pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, smiling against skin until Steve turned his head and kissed him back.

"I'm going to stop by my place beforehand. I'll be back for dinner."

Steve gave him a final squeeze around the waist before letting go and walking Blaine to the door. He handed Blaine his bag, receiving a wide smile. With a wave, Blaine headed down the hallway. Steve watched him until he was out of sight.

Blaine turned before the woman cried out, was already changing course when she fell to the ground with a pained sound. He winced at the pain, acute and clear on her tight expression. The other pedestrians around her faltered and stepped around her. It wasn't until Blaine knelt down beside her that another woman paused and pulled her phone from her pocket.

"Are you okay?" he asked, hand hovering over her ankle.

"Stupid heels," she complained as she shifted her leg gingerly. The resulting hiss at the flare of pain had Blaine cringing.

"Do you think you can get up?" Blaine asked, offering his hands to help her. The woman shifted again, but had to close her eyes at the stab of pain. Blaine's fingers curled in, the nails biting into his skin.

"Should I call someone?" the young woman standing at their side questioned. Blaine looked up at her gratefully.

"No, I can do it. My office isn't far." She made to get up again, and Blaine found himself gritting his teeth along with her. He reached out and hoisted her up with arms under hers, feeling her body tense with another burst of pain.

When she was righted, left knee bent to keep the weight off her ankle, Blaine gripped her arms to keep her steady. She held onto him, carefully pressed down on her foot and testing the extent of the injury. Blaine sucked in a breath as his own ankle twinged with a sympathetic ache. The ache worsened when she took a tentative step, but the woman kept going until she was holding herself up on her own. Blaine lifted an eyebrow in question when she looked at him startled.

"It's not as bad as I thought." She let go of Blaine's forearms to resettle her bags on her shoulder. He dropped his hands. "Thank you," she said, looking at both Blaine and the other woman. "I think I'll be okay."

The young woman smiled and went on her way.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked, still feeling the pain emanating from her.

"I think so. It was much better once I stood up. Weird, huh? Thank you, again."

"No problem. I'm glad it's not too bad," Blaine said with a shrug, forcing a smile to his lips.

"Wish there were more gentlemen like you around," the woman commented with a grateful smile. "Have a good day."

With a squeeze of his arm and another smile, she made her way down the sidewalk. Though she took her time, Blaine saw no evidence of a limp as the woman disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians. Shaking his head to rid himself of the questions, he turned back on his way. When he took a step, pain burst from his ankle and he stumbled, falling hard to his knees and catching himself with palms slammed onto the concrete. He took a shaky breath, blinking away the haze and steadying his suddenly racing heart. He got up, hopping a couple times until he found his balance with his left foot barely on the ground. His ankle now throbbed and his shoe felt too tight against the swollen ache. As he made his way to his apartment, limping and clenching his teeth at the stabbing pain, he shook his head at his clumsiness, how he must have turned his foot at an odd angle when he stood up, and at the coincidence of twisting the same foot as the woman he'd helped off the ground did.

(the end, for now)