Author's Note: I wanted to post these last two chapters together, because I thought this one would seem anti-climactic after the Talk. :-)

This is the part where I'm supposed to be pithy and brilliant and sum up how much I owe you all for your encouragement, your reviews, your art and your criticism and your enthusiasm. Unfortunately when I'm not speaking in the voice of a character I'm really not all that eloquent.

I'll sum up: you people, the ones who have been with me since the beginning and the ones just reading now, are all amazing. I fell into this fandom almost by accident - I didn't even like the first few episodes I saw, but as usually happens with me first one character and then another jumped out and screamed for attention. I had absolutely no idea that my first lark of an idea would generate such a response.

My ONLY worry in ending this story is that it will disappoint a single one of you. Your words have meant the world to me, and even though I stumbled into Glee by chance, I am sure as hell not going anywhere now.

Thank you. Truly. Thank every last one of you.

"Blaine and I broke up yesterday," Kurt reports to his dad and Carole when they come in from grocery shopping the next day.

His dad turns to him fast, cutting off whatever he's saying as they walk through the door in mid-sentence. His face is instantly alight with concern, searching, probably trying to figure out if he's got to drive all the way up to Westerville and kick someone's ass on his son's behalf.

Kurt beams back at him.

His dad blinks after a moment, a furrow in his temple. "You, uh."

"Broke up," Kurt repeats with a grin.

They both stare at him.

From upstairs come sudden heavy footsteps pounding down. "Is that Finn? I'm so ready to get on Live and kick somebody's a-hey!" Dave thuds down to the bottom of the steps, grinning sheepishly at the adults. "Hey! Um. Need some help?"

Carole laughs softly and hands over the bag of groceries in her hand. "Help me put these away. You're cooking tonight, you get to make sure we picked up everything you need."

Dave grins and takes the bag, and grabs the one Kurt's dad is holding. "Just leave the car unlocked, I'll grab the rest." He jogs over to the kitchen.

Kurt's eyes follow him helplessly, and when Dave passes he grins down at Kurt, who grins up at him.

"Oh."

He turns back to his dad when Dave vanishes through the kitchen door. He sees the look on his dad's face and can't help but blush. "What?"

His dad stares hard at him, and looks after Dave, and sighs. "No more closed doors when you two are upstairs together."

Kurt's flush darkens, but he beams.

His dad shakes his head, long-suffering, but behind his shoulder Carole beams right back at Kurt.

Kurt wanted to tell Blaine first, but he's respecting Blaine's wishes to not call for a few days. Besides, it's probably ridiculously tacky to call his too-recent-ex and gush about his current relationship, even if Blaine did everything he could in the end to help him make it happen.

So he tells his dad and Carole everything he can comfortably share, and when Finn finally gets home and sets up Call of Duty on X-box Live, Kurt keeps sitting beside Dave holding his hand until he needs it for the controller. And even Finn can't help but miss that.

Finn, being who he is, just looks at them and makes a face. "We're supposed to be thinking of each other as brothers here, guys. Gross."

Dave innocently suggests brother-in-law instead, which makes Finn gag until Dave has to punch him, and makes Kurt beam until his face actually hurts from it.

And it's easy.

It's easy and it's right, and everything is so much like it was between them. They talk for hours, they do homework, they laugh about weird things. Dave calls him when they're not together and murmurs multi-syllabic science words at him until Kurt's shivering so hard he must look like he's having seizures.

It's the same as it was. It's Dave, big awkward guy who curses like a sailor and smiles like a timid kid. And it's Kurt, who takes care of him, and worries about him, and laughs with him. Who drives to a therapist once a week while Dave's still going twice, who talks through his guilt and his disillusionment with the world in a rose-colored office so that he can come home and focus on being absolutely happy.

Only when Kurt realizes how little has changed between them does he start to realize exactly how inevitable this actually was. They still call and text and sit in each others' bedrooms and laugh about Albright or gripe about Rachel or hockey practice or whatever.

They were already dating, apparently. Already a couple, maybe the entire time Dave's been here.

The only difference now is that when he makes Dave grin those face-splitting grins, Kurt can without hesitation reach out and trace the swell of his cheek and watch it flush pink under his trailing fingertips.

When he wants to hold Dave's hand he doesn't have to have a reason. When they start to say goodnight they can kiss and smile and murmur soft words and kiss some more until an hour's gone by and they still haven't really said goodnight yet.

Mercedes finally comes over to pay a visit to Kurt's house, strolling in with her Diva firing on all cylinders, ready to give Dave the third degree because she's still Team Blaine. Except Kurt leaves them in the living room while he's making a tray of drinks and snacks – as befits a proper host, per Madame Martha Stewart – and when he comes back Dave is red-faced and Mercedes is beaming about something and pecking Dave's number into her phone. Kurt asks what he missed, but Mercedes vows silence and Dave just looks at Kurt with vulnerable eyes and smiles shyly until Kurt gets the gist of it.

Santana threatens Kurt with violence if Dave ever even thinks about looking like he's debating the possibility of even considering being unhappy.

Azimio makes Dave swear solemnly that he will never share a single detail about anything that ever happens between he and Kurt, ever.

They don't spread the word at McKinley, not the first couple of weeks, but they don't hide themselves either. Dave comes to glee rehearsals when he doesn't have hockey practice. He sits and watches and ignores Rachel's attempts to trick him into singing. Kurt goes to hockey practice when he doesn't have glee, and sits and watches boys roll around on skates and hit things with sticks, and can never take his eyes off Dave, charging his way through the others whenever he plays.

The same as it was, really. Nothing all that different, except that Kurt has been a happy kid most of his life and now there's no words for how he feels.

He and Blaine talk. Kurt tries his hardest to keep Dave out of the conversations, but he is who he is so things slip out. Blaine is as quietly supportive as ever. By the weekend after their break-up Kurt's asking his help in putting together the perfect Fancy playlist for Dave's iPod, and Kurt wavers between hating himself and really wanting his friend Blaine back. Maybe he's selfish. Probably he's selfish.

Dave loves him either way, so. Selfish is okay with Kurt.

Blaine is coming down, two weeks after they last saw each other. Two weeks into 'friendship', he's going to come and go have dinner with Kurt and Dave.

Kurt quietly frets about it all day, grabbing Mercedes as often as possible for reassurance that things are going to be okay, and texting Blaine almost constantly to make sure he's certain, he really wants to come, he doesn't just want to be nice and hide the fact that he despises Kurt now.

Blaine calls him at lunch, amused and a little edged, reminding him that Blaine is the one who did the dumping, so maybe Kurt ought to worry about his own poor injured emotions.

Kurt goes to glee rehearsal with one eye on his cell phone, and when Blaine starts texting the same old boring details about his trip as he gets closer, Kurt finally relaxes.

He focuses on glee rehearsal in time to miss whatever Mr. Schue is finishing up speechifying about. Something about simplicity and how the most straightforward lyrics are often the ones that stick with people.

Kurt sits beside Mercedes and tries to fight beaming like an idiot with the door pushes open and Dave slides in, sitting in his usual close-to-the-escape-route chair near the door. Dave grins back at him, pointing at his wrist and then at his eyebrow.

Kurt grins (in order to make nice with Kurt's ex-boyfriend, Dave has consented to sticking with Eyebrows as a nickname for Blaine) and holds up five fingers, since Blaine is set to pull in around five if he doesn't catch the start of rush hour.

Dave nods and settles back, pulling out his cell phone to busy himself in some game or another.

"So," Mr. Schue says with a smile when no one seems to question his wisdom about the beauty of simplicity. "Who haven't we heard from this week? Puck? Artie?"

"Yeah, I got something." Puck pushes up out of his seat, punching Lauren's arm with his fist as he passes – a token of love between the two of them, no doubt. Kurt has never pretended to understand.

He moves down to the floor and past the piano, grabbing his guitar from against the wall and pulling up a chair to the front.

Kurt smiles as Dave glances up at him, rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone. There are some people there Dave will pay attention to – most gallingly, Rachel – but none of the Glocks make that list.

Puck's performances can be...non-standard, and Kurt kind of enjoys the fact that unlike most of the kids in glee he never has any idea in advance what sort of song Puck will have chosen. He's done numbers so amazing they could have been put on stage without a single change and blown away an audience. But he's had some train wrecks, too.

Whatever Puck does he does all the way, so Kurt is always interested when he steps up.

Puck sits down in front of the group. He strums a couple of times, tightening a couple of strings with his usual cocky grin, and Kurt glances sideways at Mercedes to share one of the 'oh god what now' grins that usually begin one of his songs.

Mercedes is staring right at Kurt, absolutely beaming.

Kurt blinks in confusion, registering the excitement in her eyes and the blast of a smile. Just as he's about to ask her what kind of drugs she's on, Puck starts playing a melody.

He raises his eyebrow at Mercedes and her rather out-of-place expression, but turns obediently back to Puck to be a good audience.

It's a quick, soft little number, nothing that Kurt knows, and Puck plays a few measures and opens his mouth, then blinks and frowns.

"Shit," he says amiably. "I can't even remember the words."

There are some snorts and laughs from behind Kurt, but his brow is furrowing at the stilted delivery of those words, and the way Mercedes is all but shuddering in anticipation from her seat.

Puck looks out at the club. "Someone help me out here – anyone know this song?"

Nobody does, but Puck grins and starts playing from the beginning of the song, confident, like he fully expects someone to get up and start singing.

And someone does.

"This is the first day of my life
Swear I was born right in the doorway."

It's an uncertain start, a soft voice that Kurt doesn't instantly recognize. Male and low and hesitant. Mercedes squeaks in joy from beside Kurt. Puck goes on playing, silent and unsurprised.

"I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach."

From the corner of his eye he sees movement, and Kurt's eyes go over slowly even as there are gasps of reaction behind him.

Dave.

He's red-faced, phone gone from his hands as he stands up. He moves in behind Puck, standing over him as Puck sits and plays without a reaction. He sings.

"Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go."

He's nervous and it shows – his voice is softer than it needs to be, unsteady at first. But it's low and smooth and gruff, the way Dave so often is. It's perfect.

Kurt wants to look over at Mercedes, wants to know how much she had to do with this, when she and Puck and Dave had a chance to make this happen. But he can't look away from Dave.

Dave's eyes are facing straight out, but he's not focused. He's not looking at anyone, just blushing and singing and Kurt can't even breathe because the sound of it isn't welcome over Dave's voice.

"And so I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realize that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home."

Dave's confidence is coming to him word by word. He gets a little less soft, a little less airy, and his eyes start focusing on people one by one. His mouth quirks upwards when he looks at Mercedes and she all but wiggles her excitement beside Kurt.

Then, drawing in a breath to go into the next verse, Dave's eyes move to Kurt and stay there.

"This is the first day of my life
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you
But now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy."

Kurt can't help it when he blinks and his vision clouds. He can't help the hand that comes up to his mouth, covering up the ridiculous look on his face that can't decide whether to gape or grin.

He reaches over and grips Mercedes's hand, and she laughs and squeezes back.

Dave grins, still blushing, and moves around Puck's chair, approaching Kurt as he sings. His hands are stuffed in his pocket, his walk is more of an amble, but it fits the low-key acoustic sound of this song that Kurt doesn't know.

"So if you wanna be with me
With these things there's no telling
We'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery."

Dave reaches out a hand, and Mercedes all but flings Kurt's hand away from her so that he can reach out and take it. Kurt wants to cry, he's going to cry, but he can't stop smiling long enough.

Dave grins and threads their fingers together, and if there's any doubt that the song was meant to be a serenade for one specific person, he silences that doubt by tugging Kurt to his feet and singing the last couple of lines to him, soft and smiling.

"Besides, maybe this time it's different
I mean I really think you like me..."

Puck plays for a little while, and Kurt kind of hears it but mostly doesn't care. He beams at Dave, grabbing his other hand, not caring that there are tears in his eyes and his smile is probably absolutely ridiculous-looking.

When Puck stops, though, it's harder to ignore the reactions from the entire club. There's cheers, applause, cat-calls. From Finn comes some comment about 'God, it's like incest, creeeepy' that Santana and Quinn both join forces to beat him for.

Rachel is down on the floor in a minute, tugging at Dave, who doesn't seem to register her presence, and then shouting at Mr. Schue.

"He's joining New Directions, right? He's joining the glee club, right?"

Kurt answers that, maybe too soft for anyone but Dave to hear. "No," he says, unable to look away from Dave's glittering hazel eyes and the huge grin on his blushing face. "He's a hockey player."

Dave laughs and holds Kurt's hands tightly. "She said this was the only way to impress you," he says to Kurt with a nod back at Mercedes.

Kurt laughs. He's going to kill her later, when he can think again, for knowing that this was going to happen and not warning him. "Not the only way," he answers through his idiotic grin. "But it's a sure thing."

"Just..." Dave shrugs, looking around behind Kurt and leaning in closer, lowering his voice. Kurt doesn't doubt most of the glee club is staring at them with giant smirks on their nosey faces. "I know you're nervous about tonight. Wanted to get your mind off things."

"You liar!" Mercedes appears at Kurt's side, grinning. "He's been practicing for the last week."

"Scram, Mariah," Dave mutters, barely glancing at her.

Kurt laughs and presses in closer, slipping his hands around Dave and smiling up at him. "Just when I think I can't love you more."

Dave rolls his eyes and can't hide his pleased smile.

"Just one thing," Kurt can't help but add.

Dave's eyebrow lifts. "I don't know who told you I was after a critique, Songboy, but they were wrong."

Kurt laughs. "No, just." He nods over at Rachel, who has Mr. Schue cornered, making passionate demands with hands waving back towards Dave. "You shouldn't have done it in front of her. Get ready for an obsessive Rachel Berry in your face every day."

Dave groans, low and sincere enough to make Kurt laugh all over again.

As distraction it works. Kurt can't even feel awkward when they pull up to a side street in Dave's truck and he sees Blaine standing there, leaning against his Jetta.

He gets out of the truck, beaming, singing that much louder when the engine shuts off and the music stills. "But I'd rather be working for a paycheck then waiting to win the lotteryyyy."

Blaine grins, straightening from his casual lean as Kurt approaches. "You're in a good mood."

Kurt hugs him without waiting to see if Blaine will give him the chance. Luckily Blaine is Blaine, and folds his arms around Kurt without missing a moment.

"Hey, you."

"Hi." Blaine pulls back and studies him, shaking his head. "You look miserable, no wonder you want me to rescue you."

Kurt can't even speak through his grin.

Blaine's eyes go back to Dave. "Did you drug him?"

Dave shrugs. "It's the music," he says, and Kurt can't see his face but he sure sounds like he's rolling his eyes. "It's in his soul or what the fuck ever."

Blaine grins at Kurt. "Interesting. I don't think I know that song you were singing, is it-"

"You don't know it?" Kurt's grin vanishes in horror. "How can you not know it? It's my favorite song ever."

Blaine blinks, for a moment looking worried.

Dave moves past them both, nudging Kurt's arm. "Since an hour and a half ago, yeah. He made me listen to it over and over again the whole fucking way here."

Kurt grabs Blaine's arm as he moves to keep up with Dave. "It sounds better when you sing it," he reports to Dave for not the first time since hearing the recorded version.

"You sang to him?" Blaine asks as he stumbles to keep up with Kurt. "He sang to you?"

Kurt turns to him to tell him the whole story, following Dave through a doorway without paying any attention. He's right at the part where Puck pretends to forget the words when a roar of voices makes him jump.

"DAVID!"

Kurt looks around for the first time, and actually focuses on something outside his own head long enough to see where it is Dave has chosen for them to eat.

He grins at the now-familiar faces behind the grill, the huge, friendly smiles, the owner who immediately launches to the near side of the counter and thrusts his arm out to shake hands.

Dave claps Blaine on the shoulder and steers him away from Kurt. "Brought a new friend for ya."

"David's friend! Welcome, welcome!"

Kurt laughs as Blaine blinks disconcerted eyes and reaches out to hesitantly shake the man's hand.

He glances over at Dave, letting his surprise show.

Dave glances back, shrugging. "I didn't say he couldn't ever come here."

Kurt laughs and grabs Blaine's arm, leaning in as his hand is finally released. "Remind me to tell you more about this later."

Blaine shoots him a bemused grin.

They slide into a table against the wall, and Blaine looks around at the place with the same slightly-judgmental stare Kurt first gave it once upon a time.

Kurt gives him about five minutes before he falls in love with the Gyro Hut.

"Hey!" He reaches across the table for Dave's hand, beaming. "Want to go bowling after?"

Dave rolls his eyes, slipping his fingers through Kurt's.

Blaine nudges Kurt's arm, nodding up at the counter, at the matching olive-skinned, heavy-eyebrowed faces regarding their table with grins and ongoing Arabic chatter. "You sure you should be...I mean, this is still Lima."

Dave chuckles. "Relax, Eyebrows. They're cool here." He makes eye contact with Kurt. "The owner's got a gay son, he doesn't give a shit." Dave's chin jerks towards Blaine, his eyebrows raising.

Kurt nods, instant and hard.

Dave laughs and lets his hand go, looking back at Blaine. "Hang on, you should meet him. Nice guy." He turns ins his chair and pitches his voice loud. "Yo, Sam!"

Kurt's madly, ridiculously in love, but that fact hasn't yet robbed him of his sight. He can't help one of those 'hellooo' moments when Samir comes out from the back office behind the counter and smiles at their table.

Blaine zooms in on Samir like a camera lens. He makes a little sound, a little half-formed 'oh' as his mouth drops open.

Dave gets up and grabs Samir's hand in a friendly shake and steers him over.

Kurt leans in to Blaine as he stares. "So," he murmurs. "Your 'someone new' at Dalton...how's that going? I haven't asked."

Blaine's eyes don't leave Samir. "Didn't work out," he mumbles in answer.

A moment later he's on his feet, and that charming Blaine smile is firmly fixed into place. He moves around the table, hand stretched out. "Sam, is it? Nice to meet you."

Samir takes him in and smiles back, all full lips and stunning milky brown eyes against his rich dark skin.

Kurt has a pang for a moment, and pathetically he has no idea if it's a pang for Blaine or for Samir. But Dave extricates himself and leaves the two of them talking, and when he slides back into his chair across from Kurt, Kurt's pangs dissolve away like sugar in water.

Dave reaches out, taking advantage of their moment alone to grip Kurt's hand, to smooth his thumb across Kurt's knuckles. "Think we're even now?"

Kurt smiles instantly. "You and Blaine? What, he let you have me so you introduce him to Samir?"

"Huh. Put it like that..." Dave meets his eyes and smiles, sheepish the way he normally is (Kurt has recently learned) when he's about to be sappy. "I'm gonna owe him the rest of my fucking life, aren't I?"

Kurt ducks his eyes and grins and tries not to feel just smug levels of happiness. "Sounds about right."

If there's a single dark spot left now, it comes in less frequent bursts.

But it still comes hard.

Kurt can only manage a frown anymore at times like this, holding on to a glass of tepid water outside the bathroom door, waiting for it to open.

Dave emerges after a few minutes, pale and shaking, face and hair damp from the sink. He reaches for the water, and it shivers in his hand but Kurt has learned not to fill it up so badly that it will spill when Dave holds it.

Kurt takes his arm and leads him back to his bedroom, silent and sad.

One of the two expelled students who the cops let walk...he's petitioning to come back to McKinley. There's no other decent school near enough with a good football program, and the kid wants to have a meeting with Dave and Figgins and their parents (the kid's parents, Kurt supposes, and hopefully Kurt's dad can sit in for Dave).

Dave tells Kurt it doesn't matter, that it could have been anyone on the team watching the doors at a teammate's request. It's nothing most of them haven't done once or twice. He doesn't blame the lookouts, he says. He doubts they had any idea what was happening behind the doors.

But now this.

Kurt moves ahead of Dave and pulls down the covers on his bed. Dave sits on the mattress with a sigh, setting the glass on the table beside the bed.

"They're getting worse." Kurt watches Dave slip back under the covers. He sits on the side of the bed when Dave has settled in.

Dave frowns, but doesn't deny it. "It was just a long day."

"No. You're throwing up again." Kurt reaches out and smooths his hair back, and he knows that nothing in the world is magic. His love isn't enough to heal all wounds. But god, he wants this to stop so badly. "You haven't done that for a while."

Dave shakes his head, but doesn't argue. His hand slips free of the covers to catch against the thin sleeve of Kurt's pajamas. "I'm okay."

"You're not." Kurt can see the shadows in his eyes, the shadows under his eyes. Everything in life is so perfect, and then comes this black mark. He hates it, hates that Dave still has to suffer for an attack that happened months ago.

"It's the meeting, isn't it? That bastard coming back to school."

"No."

Kurt frowns at him through the dim light coming in through Dave's small window, through the street light perfectly positioned outside.

"Then what? Things are worse, Dave. I know, I'm with you every night when..." He draws a breath, lets it out.

Things are perfect, but he worries.

"Is it..." He has to steel himself, to draw a breath and hold it. "Is it me?"

Dave frowns instantly. "What? Why would it...?"

Kurt nods at his own hand, so thoughtlessly stroking through Dave's hair. "I mean...this. You and me." He meets Dave's eyes. "Do I push you too much? Do I...touch you too much, or...?"

Dave leans up on an elbow instantly, eyes suddenly focused and wide-awake. "Kurt."

Kurt trails off, swallows, but doesn't take the words back.

Dave frowns and studies him. After a moment he reaches out and swats at Kurt's hip. "Get up."

"What?" Kurt obeys, because he is programmed to do anything Dave asks without hesitation during nights like this.

Dave flips the covers down and slips further against the wall. "Come here."

Kurt looks down at the bed, but his body and his mind act out in unison, overpowering any sense of hesitation or guilt. He sinks into the bed, and Dave draws the covers up around him.

For a moment Dave just looks down at him, and Kurt rolls on his side and tugs the pillow nervously. Dave drops back on his back, and his arm stretches out, and Kurt slides in like they've done this a hundred times, like he has any experience at all lying next to someone in bed.

He curls his arm over Dave's chest and Dave's arm circles under him and around his back, pressing him in close. Kurt grips Dave's t-shirt and his leg slips between Dave's and when they tangle up there on Dave's narrow bed it feels instantly like it's exactly where Kurt belongs.

Kurt's cheek rests against Dave's shirt, and he watches his own finger trace random patterns over his t-shirt.

Dave reaches up and skims the backs of his fingers up Kurt's arm. "You've got to stop worrying so much," he says, voice low and rough.

Kurt lets out a breath that wants to be a laugh when it grows up. "Wish me luck with that."

Dave snorts softly. "I'm serious. You really think you're hurting me somehow?"

"You're getting worse," Kurt says again. And he knows it, he sees it. The nightmares aren't as common, the flashes of temper, the glimpses of anguish, they aren't as frequent. But they're worse. "The only thing that's changed is me."

"You want to know my theory?"

Kurt frowns but sighs and doesn't protest.

"Seriously, Fancy." Dave's mouth presses into Kurt's hair lightly. "You'll like it. It's sciencey."

"And us already in bed together? Dangerous." It's a joke, but half-hearted.

Dave sounds like he's smiling when he answers, though. "It's diffusion."

"That's not the sexiest science word I've ever heard from you," Kurt answers.

"My apologies. I could call it molecular diffusion if that turns your crank."

Kurt smiles despite himself. "Better," he allows.

"You and your kinks," Dave says into his hair. He strokes Kurt's arm, back and forth, as he talks. "Okay, let me figure out how to explain this...so a molecule, right? It moves randomly, it's hard to predict. Impossible, if you believe a lot of quantum mechanics."

"Are you the molecule?" Kurt asks with a smile, and his guilt and fear is already starting to drift away from the bed. Maybe it's being here beside Dave in this new way, realizing bit by bit how entirely warm he is, how comfortable this feels. Maybe it's Dave, the low rumble of his voice.

Whatever.

"Let me tell this, Fancy. And no, I'm not the molecule, dork."

Kurt grins into Dave's shirt, and he shuts his eyes and draws a deep breath, soaking in the scent of Carole's favorite fabric softener, and Dave underneath.

"Okay, molecule, random movements. Got it? The thing is, if you put a whole handful of molecules into a confined space, despite the random movements, they tend to diffuse out. They spread out evenly to fill whatever space they're in." Dave's fingers slide up higher, stroking over Kurt's hand and resting there. "So the bigger the space they have to fill, the further apart they spread. And the smaller the space, the more concentrated."

"I think I'm with you so far," Kurt says softly. "If I ignore the 'molecule' part it's less scary."

"Mmm." Dave chuckles, low and thick in his throat. "Well...that's what's going on here. That's what I think."

Kurt blinks his eyes open and tilts his head to frown at Dave.

Dave smiles down at him, eyes heavy. "A couple months ago, everything about me was fucking miserable. You know? I didn't have anything good, anything but a friendship with you. Everything else about me was wide open, filled up by all this fucking misery." He squeezes Kurt's hand. "Nowadays? I've got this huge life, and I'm so fucking happy." He says the words simply, but Kurt heard the smile, the truth. "And that crowds out the misery. It's got less space to fill. It's not that it's worse, Kurt. It's just that I'm too happy the rest of the time, so it all concentrates in these fucking lousy moments."

Kurt thinks about that.

"The only thing you do," Dave says softly, "is give me something good to compare nights like this to. You take up more and more space, and if it means the bad shit gets a thousand times worse and a thousand times more rare, then bring it on."

Kurt smiles, tilting his head down and pressing his lips lightly against Dave's shirt, near his heart. "I love you," he murmurs, and it's more true every time he says it.

"Love you," Dave answers, hoarse and sincere.

Kurt hate the nightmares, the bathroom door waking him up, the glass of water he can't forget to fill each night, just in case. He hates the moments of grief in Dave's eyes, the despair, the fury.

The memories. They're still there, in Dave's mind, in his thoughts.

He hates seeing it, but it really isn't as often as it used to be. Not as often as a week ago, definitely not as bad as a month ago, and even a month ago was a world better than two months ago.

His problem, maybe, is that he tends to block out time in some concrete way, instead of seeing the changes as they unfold.

He's always done that. With Dave more than anyone or anything else. There was the period of Karofsky, of locker-shoves and slushies and hateful looks. Then the Kiss, and the phase afterward before he left for Dalton. There was the Bullwhips phase. The awkward email Dave sent him that felt like the start of a new phase, and the attack in the locker room that ended it way too fast, and began a horrible new phase.

Kurt is constantly separating his life, Dave's life, into these arbitrary periods, this beginnings and endings, this moment and then this moment. Even falling in love with Dave seemed to him to happen in definitely blocks of time. This day and then this day, on and on. Even now, even while he has Dave, he can't stop trying to find the differences between one moment and the next. Is this week better than last week? Is this moment worse than the same moment a week ago?

It's really pretty ridiculous, now that he's seeing it for what it is. In ten years he isn't going to separate his memories of high school into a thousand different periods.

In ten years, in one year, there's only going to be one division that means anything: before This, and This. The line that separates those two periods (and there is no line, no real one, even for something this big, because love isn't a single fall from a cliff, is it?) is the only one that will last.

Kurt wonders if there's some scientific theory for all this, some painfully obvious physics term for the way nothing really starts or stops, it just grows and spreads.

Dave is snoring softly in his ear, his hand limp on Kurt's, so he doesn't bother asking him about it. For now he settles in against Dave and wonders distantly if his dad will kill him in the morning if he finds them like this, before remembering that Dave's bedroom door is still cracked open, so technically they're obeying the rules.

Dave sleeps. Pressed against him, warm and comfortable and content, it doesn't take Kurt long to follow.

And, like always when Kurt stays beside Dave, no more nightmares trouble them through the night.

The End