Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is a fic based on spoilers for 4x15 – if you haven't heard them I wouldn't suggest reading. This scenario isn't likely to happen, but I figured I'd get it out there anyway. Oh, and if anyone's wondering, I haven't abandoned my other fic 'Tell Him That I Miss Our Little Talks' – there'll be another update soon, I just wanted to write this after the idea got stuck in my head.

Kurt walked into his apartment in a daze, heading towards his room and sinking down on his bed. He had gone up to the roof of his building to get some air because quite frankly, being snowed in and stuck in the same room for too long was driving him stir-crazy, particularly with Santana complaining about how bored she was every few minutes. He had let his mind wonder for only a few seconds before it had conjured up a vivid fantasy of paper lanterns, fairy lights and romance as he and Blaine sang Come What May to each other. It was just as they were leaning in for a kiss that his damn mind chose that moment to snap back to reality.

And now his mind was reeling. It had been weeks since Kurt had seen Blaine at the wedding, and he had been on his mind ever since. How it felt to be in his arms again, the taste of his lips, the way their bodies fit so perfectly together as they made love in that hotel. He had said - repeatedly, and to anyone who would listen - that the two of them were just friends, but he had to admit that perhaps Blaine was right; Kurt was in denial. Being together again had felt so right and it was a feeling he had been craving for ever since he had returned to New York.

Leaning over Kurt pulled open his sock drawer and rummaged around in the bottom before his fingers curled around what he was looking for. Sitting back up, Kurt stared down at the photo of he and Blaine that he held in his hands. The two of them were grinning at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other – Kurt had hidden it away after their break up and despite his anger had never had the heart to actually throw it away.

"You should call him."

Kurt's head jerked up to see Santana standing at the entrance to his room. He quickly hugged it to his chest to hide it.

"What? I don't know –"

"I know that's a photo of you and Wonder Twin Number 2." At Kurt's surprised look she gestured at his still open drawer. "I found it earlier when I was snooping around. I mean really Hummel, your sock drawer? How cliché."

"You were going through my stuff?!"

Santana waved him off with a shrug. "I was bored." She walked over and sat next to him on the bed.

"Look, I don't know if you want my advice or not, but I'm going to give it to you anyway. I've done the whole cheating thing; I've cheated and helped people cheat on others. And I have never had any regrets about it – I'm just not that type of person."

Kurt found that easy enough to believe.

Santana turned so she was facing Kurt. "Blaine isn't me. Now I'm not saying that what he did wasn't wrong, but I am saying that unlike me, Blaine actually feels bad about what he did and has tried to make up for it. People make mistakes, and yeah, what Blaine did was a big one. But it's something he's learnt from and to me McDreamy doesn't seem like the person to make the same mistake twice."

Kurt smiled slightly at the nickname as he pulled the photo away from his chest to stare at it again. His finger began to gently trace the contours of Blaine's smiling face.

"Look, any idiot can see that the two of you still love each other, despite this whole "just friends" bull you keep telling everyone. That was never the question – the question is whether or not you can move past all this crap to have a future together."

Kurt tore himself away from the photo to watch Santana as she stood up and made to leave. "Why are you telling me this? It's not like you to be so… nice."

"I know; weird right?" Santana grinned as Kurt snorted in agreement. "The truth is Hummel, I like you – I'm close to even considering you a friend. I want you to be happy that's all." A very Santana-like smirk graced her lips. "And besides, I like Blaine much better than the British hipster you've had hanging around you lately. It's like he doesn't know how to say anything that isn't some form of kissing your ass. Blaine could be just as bad sometimes but at least he had spice to his personality. I swear, if I have to hear one more sappy compliment out of English's mouth about how wonderful you are, I may just have to punch him in the face."

With a flick of hair as she turned on her heel, she was gone, leaving Kurt to his thoughts.

The next weekend, Blaine opened up his front door to Kurt on his porch with a single stemmed red rose and a hopeful yet loving smile on his face.