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Chapter Text

When Kurt got married at twenty-one, he thought he was building a love story. What he didn’t expect was to watch it collapse under the weight of hospital corridors and lab results.

Five years into their fairy-tale marriage, he and Blaine welcomed their daughter, Finley Larae, with the help of their best friend Rachel as a surrogate. She was perfect from the start. Large bright eyes, impossible laugh, the kind of joy that rewired their entire world. 

Their marriage grew stronger in the early years. They bonded over late-night feedings and the thrill of watching each other parent.

Finley brought them joy they never thought possible. 

The fevers started when she was five. Then came the bruises that didn’t fade. Even now, Kurt can still feel Finley’s small hand gripping his as the tests piled up. 

The diagnosis was heavier than anything they'd expected: Leukemia.

They adjusted their lives immediately. Kurt walked away from his contract with only weeks left to go; Blaine trimmed his shows down to quick engagements.

But the sacrifices didn’t bring them closer. 

The first rounds of chemo brought fights about schedules, about panic, about who was strong enough and who was falling apart.

Each argument slowly chipping away at what they’d built, tearing their marriage apart brick by brick. 

Six months after the diagnosis, Kurt filed for divorce.

Not out of anger, necessarily, but survival. Their daughter needed two parents who could stand side by side for her, not against each other, and this journey was proof that their marriage didn't have a strong foundation in the first place.

The split was amicable. No one understood their decisions, but no one needed to.

Since the divorce a year ago, they’d been a united front. They were best friends again. Showing up for each other and their child. Together at every checkup, shoulder to shoulder during blood draws, balancing the fragile hope of remission. 

They’re eighteen months into what they pray will be a two-year course of treatment. They say that maintenance is supposed to be the easy part, but for Kurt, every appointment still seems like standing on the edge of a cliff.

That’s why he’s here for another gray-skied afternoon in a hospital he knows too well. 

Blaine and Finley are already waiting when he gets off the elevator, matching hot pink beanies tugged low over their ears. Finley’s idea, a tradition she refused to let go of even as her hair grew back. Kurt adjusts his own hat as he slips into the chair beside her.

Another appointment. Another round of waiting for results that could either steady or unravel everything.

“Hi, sorry, meeting ran long.” He presses a kiss to the crown of Finley’s head. “I was just outside wrapping up the call.” 

“No worries.” Blaine replies, adjusting in his seat. “The appointment isn’t for about 5 minutes anyway, and I’m sure we’ll be sitting here for another 10 after that, at least.” 

True to his prediction, they are called back to Dr. Stedley’s office 15 minutes after the scheduled appointment time. They know the drill by this point. Finley sits on the table between her parents, kicking her legs swiftly and humming to herself when the door opens. 

“Alrighty,” Dr. Stedley announces, rubbing sanitizer between his hands. 

The air in the room seems to shift. Chills run down his spine as Kurt watches the young doctor trailing in behind. He feels Blaine’s hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. 

He’d recognize the face anywhere. Something about the tilt of his chin, the quiet confidence in the eyes. His pulse picked up. Why does it feel like he hadn’t aged a day, and yet was somehow different?

They briefly share eye contact as the panic sets in. Kurt watches as he swipes open his iPad, his eyes scanning quickly and refusing to look up.

“Blaine, Kurt.” Dr. Stedley nods towards them curtly, “How is Miss Finley feeling lately?” 

“Bored!” She says, exasperatedly. 

“Well it could be worse.” Stedley chuckles.  “This is the last time I’m going to see you, you know.” 

Finley nods sadly. 

“This is Dr. Smythe.” Dr. Stedley says pointing to the other doctor, who hadn’t stopped looking over the iPad. He jolts lightly, shaking his head and smiling. “He’s going to be taking over my patients once I retire. He can be your doctor if you want.” 

“Hi, Finley.” Sebastian Smythe says in a warm tone that shocks Kurt. He exhales deeply. 

“Kaitlyn mentioned also giving us some names of other doctors in the area?” Kurt manages to say. 

“Of course, that’s standard.” 

“How old are you?” Finley blurts.

“I’m 32.” Sebastian pulls his stethoscope off his chest, stepping towards her. “Can I listen to your breathing?”

“Just like my daddy!” Her feet bounce excitedly. “You’re getting old.” 

Kurt’s chest tightens with a strange mix of amusement and something else he isn’t sure how to name, curiosity, maybe.

He watches as Sebastian crouches slightly to examine her, moving with confidence that only he could manage.

Sebastian’s hands are precise, as if this is second nature for him. Kurt catches himself noticing the way the sleeve of Sebastian’s white coat brushes his forearms as he leans closer to read the blood pressure cuff. He glances to the floor, because he can't catch himself noticing things like that.

He tips his head, observing and trying to understand. How this is Sebastian Smythe, moving so freely and with practiced care, with Kurt’s daughter, and actually… be good with it? 

There is a steady rhythm to his movements, a quiet attentiveness that makes Kurt’s throat tighten. Each soft “Good job, Finley,” carries a sense of calm authority that contradicts the panic that had defined Kurt and Blaine’s first months of her diagnosis.

Kurt’s gaze flicks from Sebastian’s hands to his face—the way his brow furrows slightly when Finley squirms, the subtle curve of his lips when he whispers encouragement.

When Sebastian straightens up and gives Finley a reassuring smile, she beams back at him, completely at ease.

Kurt exhales slowly, not letting himself fully accept the relief thats building. 

“Can we just…” Kurt shakes his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts before they run too deep. “Can we just get to lab work?” 

“Yes. Dr. Smythe, can you give the results of the bloodwork?” 

“Of course, Dr. Stedley.” Sebastian grins, stepping back from the exam table and swiping the ipad open again.. “So far, everything is trending exactly where we want it to.” He turns the ipad to the lab results and gestures for Kurt and Blaine to see. 

“I think we’ll stay the course: she’s responding well to her meds, I don’t see any reason why we should change it up now. We can follow up on your normal schedule. I’ll renew her prescriptions so you can pick them up on the way out.” 

“Finley, you’ve been a real champ.” Stedley says, handing her a sticker book from his coat pocket. “Make sure you keep this up, I expect a high school graduation invite.” 

Blaine gathers their things, slipping Finley’s beanie back over her ears as she proudly clutches her new sticker book. They've done this routine so many times it feels almost mechanical now.

The three of them move together toward the hallway. Kurt adjusted his beanie, Blaine reaches for Finley’s hand, and Kurt tells himself to keep walking, keep moving, don’t look back.

That’s when he hears it calling after them. The sharp, unmistakable voice of Sebastian. 

“Kurt. Blaine.” He's jogging up the hall in his lab coat, his badge bouncing against his chest.

 “I didn’t know,” is all he says, his breath steadying and eyes darting between Kurt and Blaine rapidly.

Kurt’s grip tightens on his daughter's hand. 

“It’s fine.” Blaine answers smoothly. His voice is warm, polite, and maddeningly calm in a way only Blaine can manage. “I don’t know if we’ll stay at this clinic, but it’s not hard feelings towards your ability. We have a lot to talk about.” 

“I like you!” Finley blurts, tipping her head back to look Sebastian in the eyes. “The old man doctors smell funny. You smell like a forest.” 

Kurt laughs before he can stop himself, the feeling foreign in his throat. 

It is then that Kurt truly notices the faint pine scent of Sebastian’s cologne. His mind starts circling, recalling the way he moved in the exam room, the way he spoke with calm confidence, and the fact that Dr. Stedley chose him to take over his practice had to mean something. But Kurt can't let those thoughts in for long. He can't start letting himself think positively about Sebastian after everything they'd been through. 

Blaine glances at his watch and then, with a polite nod, says “Sebastian. Nice to see you.” He takes Finley’s hand in his. “Say bye to your dad.” 

And just like that, Blaine and Finley were gone, their bright pink beanies bobbing out into the cold air.

There's an awkward silence floating between them, filled only by the hum of the heating vent above.

“No rings,” Sebastian comments at last, hands in the pockets of his coat, his eyes steady.

Kurt’s throat tightens, arms crossing his body. “No marriage.” His voice comes out sharp, sharper than he intended. Almost defensive.

“Oh.” Sebastian blinks twice, taken aback. Then his mouth parts slightly, forming the beginnings of a smile. “Wow…”

Kurt sees it immediately, that hesitation, the disbelief. Something new bubbles in his chest, something similar to annoyance and anger “What?”

“I just… Hm.” Sebastian shakes his head, still staring like he was trying to connect two images. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect…”

“Brief recap,” Kurt cuts in. He gestures with one hand, as if presenting an act. “We got married too young, had a baby too young, our daughter got cancer, and we weren’t able to put a priority on our relationship. No hard feelings—we’re better now. Blaine is still important to me.”

The words tumble out with practiced ease. Despite that, though, there's still a lingering pain in his chest at the reminder of his failed marriage.

“How long?” Sebastian asks quietly.

Kurt bristles. “Why do you care?”

Sebastian tilts his head, expression unreadable. “If I’m going to take on your daughter’s case, it helps to know her family life.”

“You’re not taking my daughter’s case.” Kurt’s voice drops, steady and cold. 

Sebastian only hums, smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Mhmm. We’ll see.”

Kurt breathes slowly, watching the easy confidence in Sebastian’s posture, the way he looked at him like he still knew him.

You don’t, Kurt thinks bitterly, digging his nails into his palm. You don’t know me.

That night, Kurt sits alone in his apartment, shadows from the kitchen stretching long across the hardwood. His phone buzzes on the nightstand: Blaine. 

He answers with a weary, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Blaine’s voice comes through low, familiar, in a grounding way that still confuses Kurt's heart sometimes. “I just put her to bed. Should we discuss?”

Kurt adjusts against the headboard, pulling a pillow into his lap. “I’m not sure there’s much to discuss. Let’s just start calling the other doctors Stedley’s nurse recommended.”

It was easier to act like they had already decided.

There’s a long exhale on the other end. “Do you…” Blaine hesitates. “She’s in remission, Kurt. Switching offices now seems like a lot of unnecessary upheaval when we’re mostly just doing blood draws.”

The words land hard and Kurt's body stiffens as his heart hits heavy against his ribcage. He doesn’t ever want to cross paths with Sebastian again. “You can’t actually be considering this.” His heart rate quickens, almost painfully. “Blaine, it’s Sebastian. I don’t want him involved with my daughter.”

“Our daughter,” Blaine corrects gently, but the words cut something anyway. “And I did some research—”

“Of course you did,” Kurt mutters, pressing his palm to his temple.

“He went to Stanford for med school. Residency and fellowship at St. Jude’s. He’s… impressive, Kurt. On paper, he’s exactly the kind of doctor we’d want for her.”

Kurt’s eyes shut. He pictured Sebastian’s smug half-smile in that clinic hallway, the way he’d said mhmm, we’ll see like it was inevitable. His stomach knots. “You always gave him more credit than he deserved.”

“This isn’t about high school,” Blaine’s tone is sharp, and enough to sting. “This is about keeping our daughter alive. So please, let’s just see how he does. If at any point we’re uncomfortable, we’ll switch. But right now? Stability matters. For her.”

He wants to argue. To remind Blaine of every cruel thing Sebastian had ever said and done.

But Blaine also wasn’t wrong.

Finley didn’t need another upheaval.

“Fine.” The words are brittle, like glass about to crack. He swallows hard. “But I’m still going to look into other doctors. Preemptively.”

“I expect nothing less,” Blaine says softly, and then the line is quiet.

Kurt locks the phone, staring at the ceiling as the silence swarms in. He tries to tell himself to let it go, to read a book, to fold the laundry still spilling from the basket. But his fingers itch toward his phone again.

Just to confirm what I already know.

Within minutes, he finds himself on Instagram. Looking at Sebastian’s profile makes his stomach shift. He braces himself for party shots, red Solo cups, careless smiles he could sneer at. But instead it’s Sebastian in a pressed white coat, beaming at a graduation ceremony. Sebastian outside the glass front of St. Jude’s, the caption thanking mentors and patients. Sebastian with his parents, arm slung casually around his mother’s shoulders, both of them smiling.

Each scroll makes Kurt’s throat tighter. His page is polished and perfect. Not a reflection of the Sebastian Smythe he remembers—the boy who’d thrown insults like darts, who’d smirked at his pain. This is the profile of someone respectable and kind.

He digs deeper, searching old classmates, old tags, desperate for something incriminating. Anything. But it is all the same. Perfect doctor. Perfect career. Perfect life.

The hours fade away until his eyes can’t take the glow of his screen light. Hours of scrolling social media, obsessing over Sebastian’s past. And for what? To analyze every picture, trying to find something that constitutes a reason he shouldn’t be her doctor? 

With a sharp inhale, he drops the phone onto the charger as though it had burned him.

He lay back in bed, pulling the covers over his head, trying to steady his breathing. It doesn’t matter who he is now. It doesn’t matter that Finley liked him. It doesn’t matter that he looks… different.

What matters is that Finley is still in remission. Only a handful of checkups left until she was considered cured.

That's the thought that he clings to as he tries to sleep: not Sebastian’s easy grin, not the ghost of Blaine’s sharp tone, not the ache of the empty bed beside him.

Just Finley. Healthy. Breathing. His light.

Chapter Text

New York was not where Sebastian was supposed to end up.

Pediatric Hematology/Oncology was not where he was supposed to end up, either.

Yet somehow, here he was. 

When he was hired to take over a retiring doctor's thriving practice, he wasn’t too thrilled that it would be in New York. New York was the epitome of everything that he swore he had hated. Broadway, posters on every corner, overly ambitious college students, and the constant ability to smell the breath of the person walking in front of you.

But now, being here for a few weeks, he had yet to regret a single thing.

Dr. Stedley is the kind of old-school physician Sebastian admired all through school. He’s the kind that knew exactly what to say, exactly how to move. He made patients smile in situations when joy was rare. He comforted parents just by walking into a room. He could look at lab results and have an entire treatment plan formulated within 60 seconds. 

That was who he wanted to be. He wanted to be the physician that showed up at graduations and weddings and made his patients feel heard and important.

For now, though, he was acting as a shadow. 

Since arriving in the city, most of his days had been spent trailing Stedley through rounds, shaking hands with families, trying to be both approachable and authoritative.

It was exhausting in ways he hadn’t expected.

Even after 14 years of studying and preparing for this moment, being in the clinic (in his clinic) felt like the first day of med school all over again. An over confident kid who had dreams and ambitions and was immediately knocked down a few hundred pegs. 

But all of that was nothing compared to the weight in his chest after his last appointment of the day.

Try as he might, the image of the three of them sitting in that tiny little exam room stays in the front of his mind long after they’ve left.

Blaine was still carrying the same, careful warmth Sebastian remembered from high school. The one that intrigued him in ways other boys didn’t. The curls were looser now, his posture steadier, but his eyes hadn’t changed one bit. He embodied the kind of parent who always tried to see the bright side, glass half full, even when they’re sitting in an oncologist's office. Sebastian had mixed feelings about that kind of parent. 

And then there was Kurt. God. Kurt Hummel was nothing like the quick witted, fancy clothed boy Sebastian had sparred with. Time had been both merciless and generous at the same time. His edges were sharper and his body carried itself differently. His face showed heartbreak that Sebastian had seen time and time again. But still, something was different about the way it lingered on Kurt’s face. Kurt looked like someone who had lived through a fire but still stood in the smoke.

And then came the divorce revelation. 

He shouldn’t have cared. He shouldn’t have felt that jolt when Kurt had said it out loud, voice tight and defensive.

But the part that has been sticking, replaying in his mind for hours? It wasn’t even about the split.

It was the way Kurt spoke about Blaine. There was respect there. Care. As if even broken love didn’t erase the bond. 

It was the kind of dignity Sebastian had never associated with him, and it made something shift in his chest. Something strangely uncomfortable.

That night, Sebastian leans on a pole in the subway, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, trying to remain in his own bubble, but failing. A hand touches his elbow gently and he prepares himself for about a thousand different scenarios than the one he is greeted with. 

“You’re the new guy taking over Stedley’s crew, right?” She’s in wrinkled scrubs, holding an empty Tupperware container in one hand and about five bags hanging on the opposite shoulder. 

Sebastian blinks, looking up from his phone but doesn’t put it away. “Depends who’s asking.”

“Dr. Ainsley Rhee. Pediatrics.” She offers her hand. “I saw you with him this morning.”

Sebastian takes it, a little caught off guard. For some reason, the idea of anyone else from the hospital riding the subway with him was absolutely absurd.

(The idea of Sebastian riding the subway in general was absurd, but at this time of day it was about an hour faster for him to get home.)

“You looked like you wanted to take notes on how Stedley breathes,” she teases, a smile twinkling.

A reluctant laugh. “Something like that.” He really is trying to pick up on the little things that Stedley had mastered. 

Her expression softens. “He’s a good mentor. But you’ll figure out your own rhythm. Really. All the patients really remember is if you made them feel safe.”

The words stuck with him long after she got off with a reassuring smile at 96th.

Finally in his apartment, Sebastian kicks off his shoes and sinks onto the couch, still in his coat. He should be thinking about tomorrow’s patient list, about adjusting to this new life.

Instead, all he can see is Kurt Hummel’s guarded expression, the way his voice had turned slightly brittle at the mention of his marriage.

Somewhere, Sebastian knows he doesn’t deserve Kurt’s forgiveness. Not really.

He’d been cruel for no reason and reckless in ways Kurt would likely never forget.

But that was years ago. And Sebastian wasn’t the same boy who lived to provoke. He was different now. He proved it every day while guiding terrified parents and brave kids through the worst trials on earth.

So why did it matter if Kurt saw it? Why did it bother him that Kurt was still holding a grudge?

He didn’t have the answer. All he knew was that, for the first time, he wanted to know.

The next morning, Sebastian arrives early to the clinic and immediately starts referencing the patient appointments of the day to their files. He pays closer attention to the names, ages, parents names than he had in the past. Yesterday, he would glance at the first name on the chart before walking into the room. Today, he’s being increasingly thorough. 

“Already at it this morning, Dr. Smythe?” Stedley says as he walks into physician offices. 

“Yeah.” Sebastian’s reply is sheepish. “I don’t want any surprises like yesterday.”

“You seemed to handle everything well.” Stedley raises a brow, questioningly. “What case puzzles you?” 

“It wasn’t…” Sebastian exhales, long and slow. “It wasn't the case. I just knew a patient's family from a long time ago.” 

Dr. Stedley nods. “Kinda threw you?”

“Yeah, I..” he pauses, searching for the words. “I don’t know why? I just was so… I don’t know, shocked? When we went into the room and they were there… I should have read her case file closer. Could have prepared myself.” 

”You’re learning a lot of new names and faces, Sebastian.” Stedley says, opening his laptop. “You handled it fine.” 

But Sebastian isn’t convinced. He can’t shake the feeling of seeing them — of not knowing how to respond or interact. So he’d acted like he did with every other patient he’s seen in the past. Focus on the numbers. Be good with the kid. Smile. Know your stuff. 

The days continue to blur together. Every one is filled with morning rounds on the inpatient floor, endless files, and learning the rhythms of Stedley’s office. 

Sebastian learns which parents always asked the hardest questions, which kids refuse to take meds without a story first, which nurses kept a stash of stickers in their pockets for bribes.

He felt good at it. (He knew that he was, of course. You don’t get prestigious fellowships if you’re not good at it.) 

He was charming when he needed to be, firm when it mattered, and competent enough to ease the panic that hummed through the halls. Patients began to recognize his face. Parents smiled at him cautiously. 

And yet no matter how tired he was at the end of the day, no matter how many charts he closed out, how many kids he high-fived or how many nurses he pissed off, his mind kept going back to that moment at the end of that single day in the clinic.

To the routine follow-up that haunts him.

To one set of parents.

To one incredibly brave little girl. 

He told himself it was professional, just an overactive sense of duty to a new case. But he knew that was a lie. Because he wasn’t losing sleep over anyone else’s file.

A late night of drinking after a long day at the clinic led to a dreaded late night scroll; trying to silence the constant nag for information his brain wouldn’t let go of.

The headlines he finds lead to more questions and nagging curiosity.

Emmy nominee Blaine Anderson’s husband files for divorce. 

Kurt Hummel Steps Back From Public Life Amid Divorce Rumors

Rising Star Blaine Anderson on Managing Fame While Parenting.

It led to reading about Blaine’s successes: nominations for guest roles, leading shows on Broadway, talks of movies and TV shows.

And one thing led to another. Blaine’s presence was overwhelming, but Kurt’s was much more subtle. Sebastian had to dig through the weeds to find information on his Broadway highlights. They were fewer than Blaine’s, but still seemed impressive from an outsider's perspective. His last credit over a year ago — a featured role on one of the biggest shows at the time. 

At some point, he ends up on instagram. Kurt’s carefully curated profile was void of anything personal. No Finley, No Blaine, No cancer. It was all strangely… professional. 

Sebastian tells himself to stop digging. To compartmentalize. To be the doctor, not the high school rival.

So he closes the tabs, mutes the thoughts, and attempts to focus on what he is working to build here.

The weeks pass. Stedley’s retirement party came with toasts and speeches, pats on the back and the subtle weight of expectation as he is referenced as “incredibly capable hands” by Stedley. Sebastian smiled, shook hands, and promised himself that the Anderson-Hummel’s were just another family.

But the thought doesn’t stay buried for long.

It claws its way back one night when his phone lights up just past midnight.

12:07am.  Hospital — ED

“Smythe.” He grumbles into the phone, trying to will the tiredness from his voice. 

“Hi, Dr. Smythe. Sorry to bother you. It’s Archy in the ED. Dr. Horsley wanted me to let you know we just got one of your patients in, thought you might want to come consult,” 

Sebastian is rolling out of bed and pulling his laptop from his bag, “What patient?” 

“Finley Anderson-Hummel, 6 years old. ALL. She came in with a fever of 104.5, lethargic. Symptoms set in earlier this morning.” 

Sebastian stills. His heart beat quickens, hitting hard against his chest. Exhaustion quickly fades away. 

“Fuck.” He doesn’t bother with the laptop anymore and pulls on clothes instead. “I will be there in 20. Labs?” 

“Done, the lab is a little backed up tonight so they’re still pending. Routine swabs were done too.” 

“Okay, thanks Archy. The second anything changes, you call me.” His voice is sharp — sharper than he intended but Archy doesn’t flinch.

“You got it.” 

The line clicks. Silence lingers in the dark of his apartment. He tells himself it’s just another patient. Just another call. He knows how to handle this. 

But he doesn’t believe it. 

He tries to shove it down as he’s out the door, praying to someone that this is just another fluke. 

That he’s not about to lose a patient that he absolutely cannot lose. 

Chapter Text

At this point in his life, Kurt Hummel would be glad if he never set foot in another hospital. 

He knew that was unrealistic, though. They’ve become second nature to him. Dating all the way back to childhood.

It started when he lost his mom. 

Continued when he needed stitches from falling off the playground. 

Kept going when his dad had a heart attack. 

When his dad had cancer. 

When he was attacked. 

When Finley was diagnosed.

And about eight thousand times since then. 

It never got easier back then, and it doesn’t seem to be any easier now. 

Walking through the doors to the emergency room still brings the same anxiety and dread. The same worry of what lies on the other side. 

He clutches Finley’s hand as the EMTs roll her through the hallway. She had been tired all day, not playful like usual. But she also had a rough night of sleep the night before, so the alarm bells weren’t fully ringing. 

Kurt noticed the heat radiating off her body around 8:00. 

He took her temperature. Elevated — but not a fever. 

Texted Blaine. Just that he was keeping an eye on it. 

When he checked again an hour later and the number was scary. 

She was breathing, but the breaths were uneven. Her body was limp, he tried to wake her up, give her the fever reducer. But she wouldn’t wake fully. 

His heart dropped to the floor as he began to panic.

He texted Blaine again. 

Calling an ambulance. Fever over 104.

She looks terrifying. 

Blaine’s reply was instant. 

Shit.

Looking for flights now. First one is at 6am. 

Please keep me updated. 

I’m going to look at neighboring airports. 

And so here they are, phlebotomists drawing labs and nurses taking swabs.

They’re back in a room and waiting. 

The doctor comes in, suspecting a relapse. 

They’ve called in her oncologist. 

Kurt’s heart is beating heavy and rapid, his throat is tight. 

He doesn’t even think about the fact that the last person he wants to see when he’s in this state is Sebastian Smythe. He can’t worry about that right now. 

Time ticks by slowly. It feels like he’s been waiting for eternity (it’s been less than an hour).

He hears his voice before he sees him. Kurt is surprised at the way the voice carries. It carries in a way that Kurt can only hear half the conversation. 

“How do they still not have results?” 

Kurt eases towards the thin door between him and the nurses station outside. 

“No, that’s unacceptable. 104.5 is ridiculously high even for a healthy child. A healthy adult even. Call the lab again. Nag them. Or I’ll go down and run the damn test myself.”

“Wait, what the hell is this? You didn’t think a seizure warranted a notification? And why isn’t she on antibiotics already? You know she’s immunocompromised.”

Kurt swallows hard, glancing over at a sleeping Finley. Monitor steady, IV bag dripping. She looks normal now, but 20 minutes ago he watched as her body began to panic, moving in a way Kurt had never seen before. 

He’d heard people talk about watching their loved ones seize. But seeing it was different. He wanted to turn and walk out of the room and curse whatever god or creator was out there that was putting his precious baby girl—putting him—through this. Because damn if this isn’t the hardest thing he’s ever done, 

His phone pings. 

Blaine.

- Any update? Flight out in 3 hours. 

There was no real update. Just suspicions and apparently incompetent emergency staff. 

The silence in the room is broken by a knock on the door. 

In walks Sebastian, scrubs that are clearly fresh under his lab coat, the hospital-issued iPad in his hand. 

“You guys hanging in there?” 

Kurt doesn’t respond right away. He keeps his arms crossed defensively and lets his gaze dart between Finley, her monitors, before they land on Sebastian. 

“Doing what we can.” He says, finally, though it doesn’t quite feel like the right answer.

“Just you here?” Sebastian asks as he pulls up a stool, acting as if doctor mode had been activated. 

“Blaine’s on set in California, he’s trying to get a flight.”

“Well unfortunately it seems like the hospital is being run… we’ll just say inefficiently tonight, so we don’t have all of her labs back yet.” Sebastian’s eyes scan the iPad. “She has the flu, so we’ll start her on tamiflu, a 10 day course for good measure. She started showing symptoms this morning?” 

“Yeah, she woke up groggy which isn’t unheard of but she never really got more alert? Just tired all day. She spiked a fever pretty quickly after dinner.” 

“She’s going to be admitted. For sure until the fever’s gone but maybe longer depending on what the labs say.” Sebastian shakes his head in sync with a shrug. “I also ordered antibiotics and they should be bringing those in soon. Don’t know why they didn’t start them second you got here.” 

“I asked. Said they wanted labs first.” It wasn’t Kurt’s first time in the emergency room since Finley had gotten sick: they always ended up the same way. Stedley ordering antibiotics and kindly reminded whatever doctor was on the floor that they needed to start antibiotics right away with any of his patients.

“Of course they did. Because it’s so much work to type in an order and risk a septic kid.” Sebastian rolls his eyes as he strands up, muttering something about standard of care and sheer incompetence. 

He’s out the door and Kurt’s still processing. 

He wants to text Blaine but hesitates on the text thread. What would he even say? 

Maybe: Same as always. Jumping through hoops and working the food chain before anyone makes a move. As if the sick child and her parents haven’t been through this time and time again.

Or: Just listened to Sebastian berate the emergency doctor because she dropped the ball (as always). 

Or: I’m going on an Alaskan cruise the second you get here because I can’t take this much longer. It’s your turn.

Instead, he locks his phone, slides back into the plastic covered chair tucked into the corner of Finley’s room and leans his head against the wall, eyes closed.

He’ll call Blaine later. He obviously will. But right now his brain is spinning too much. 

An hour later, antibiotics have been started and Kurt is pacing, shoes squeaking against the polished floor, phone pressed to his ear. 

On the other end, Blaine explains how difficult trying to get back was proving to be. His new flight got delayed and it’s looking more and more like he wouldn’t be able to get there until the afternoon. 

“I hate that I’m not there. I shouldn’t have done this… You call as soon as you hear anything?” Blaine’s voice echoes, fear showing clear through every word. 

“Her last 3 counts were fine, there was no reason to suspect that anything would happen.” Kurt exhales. He’s trying to convince himself there’s no frustration or resentment at the fact that Blaine is across the country filming what is sure to be another award worthy performance.

His thoughts betray him, though.

I’m terrified. 

I wish I wasn’t alone, dealing with this. 

I wish I wasn't dealing with this. 

I hate that you get to build something and I gave it up.

A sharp knock breaks the silence between the two of them. Sebastian steps in, iPad is hand. He’s holding himself differently. Less tense. His shoulders are visibly relaxed. 

“I’ve got the results.” He says slowly, nodding to the phone in Kurt’s hand. “Do you want me to come back—“ 

Kurt pulls the phone off his ear and switches it to speaker. “You’re on speaker. Go.” 

He was clear and direct. Eye contact with Kurt across a sleeping Finley. “Her labs look great. No evidence of relapse. No sign of sepsis. Probably a febrile seizure because of the flu.”

There’s an audible exhale from Blaine and Kurt’s eyes start watering. “So, she’s… she’s okay?” He manages to say. 

“I mean, she's still pretty sick. But it’s influenza A in an immunocompromised kid — not cancer returning. She’ll stay admitted, on fluids and antibiotics, you’ll finish the tamiflu course. Way more manageable than more chemo.”

Blaine’s voice finally broke through the speaker. “Oh thank god.” 

Kurt braced himself on Finley’s bed, legs giving way in relief.

Sebastian’s eyes softened, his tone tender. “I know you guys have been living in fight or flight for too long. Tonight and tomorrow won’t be easy but this… this isn’t the nightmare you’re afraid of.” 

Kurt nods, blinking rapidly, tears brimming in his eyes. 

Any other parent would probably not be relieved to hear that their child had the flu. That the flu caused a fever so high they had a seizure. But to Kurt it was the best news he could have gotten short of a sudden cure for her cancer. 

“I’ll check in again with you before I head out, get some rest. She’s in good hands.” As he slips out Kurt sinks down into the chair next to Finley’s bed. 

He clutches his phone to his ear, and Blaine’s voice slips out, cracking and relieved. “We got lucky.” 

“Yeah. Weird that lucky and being admitted with the flu fit in the same sentence. But yes. We did.” 

The line goes quiet after that. The relief they didn't expect to feel settling between them. 

Kurt squeezes Finley’s hand, and she twitches in her sleep. He scoots the chair out of the corner and next to her bed, resting his head on her bed and closes his eyes, the room feels lighter now. Less like an incoming fight. 

Patient transport comes and moves them from the emergency room to the pediatric unit upstairs. They meet their nurse and she suggests child life comes in in the morning. The hour of transfer and admittance are filled with so many short pleasantries it’s exhausting. 

“Hey.” Sebastian slips in as their nurse walks out. “How are you guys doing?” 

“Good. She woke up a few minutes ago and was asking for Blaine.” Kurt doesn’t bother to hide the sadness in his tone. 

“I sense resentment.” 

“No, just…” he starts. Then shakes his head. “Something else. I don’t know what to call it.”

“Hard being the default parent?” Sebastian questions.

Kurt raises a brow and doesn’t respond verbally. He doesn’t have to. 

“I talk to a lot of parents. You’re not unique in what you’re feeling and you’re really not hiding it well.” 

“Look,” Kurt says before he can think better of it. “It sucks. There was never a conversation. I left my show. I get the medications, the appointments, I washed the puke out of her hair. He didn’t even make a single call when she got diagnosed, I had to tell his parents.” 

He’s vomiting words now. Feelings he had suppressed so hard he didn’t even realize they were there. 

“Even now, we’re divorced and we’re happy and she’s as healthy as we can hope for but I’m here doing this alone while he films a mini-series in California and then gets to come back and do a 12-week run in Little Shop.” Kurt pauses, breathing rapidly. Then keeps going. “Meanwhile I sit here and make sure she doesn’t fall behind in school when she can’t even go to school. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful. He pays every single one of her medical bills and they’re insanely expensive.” 

Sebastian snorts.

”And he is so good with her and he loves her and is always here when it matters. He does everything he can for her. But I’m tired. I’m tired of all of this and tired of the universe knocking me down just when I start to feel like a regular happy life is in reach.” Kurt rubs his hands over his face, exhaling long and slow. 

“Are you finished?” Sebastian says, tone unreadable. 

Kurt stiffens.

Something in Sebastian softens now, he drops his arms that were crossed against his chest and takes two short steps towards Kurt. Enough to notice. 

“You don’t sound ungrateful, you sound burnt out like most parents of medically complex children. There is always burn out at some point. The weight you guys carry is awful. So if you need to keep venting about your pretty little ex husband not pulling his weight, keep going.”

Kurt blinks, straightens his stance, confusion swimming through his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Sebastian is not what he expected. He was threatening hospital staff only hours ago wanting to get results and proper care for his daughter. And now he’s sitting in her hospital room, listening and encouraging Kurt in a way he wished any of his friends and family would. But instead he always got “hang in there” or “I don’t know how you do it”. 

“Look, I know how you feel about me.” Sebastian leans against the counter. “We don’t have to be friends. You can hate me as a person. But as a doctor, I’m damn good at what I do and we both have the same goal here: keep your daughter alive. Which won’t happen if her Dad isn’t taking care of himself. Cancer doesn’t just affect the patient. It weaves through the entire family and changes everyone’s lives. You can’t pour everything you have into taking care of her without killing yourself in the process.” 

Kurt's stomach twists. Fuck him and his logic.

“Why are you here?” 

“I take care of my patients.” 

“And why is she your patient? Pediatric cancer patients don’t really scream your type of medicine.”

Sebastian chuckles. “No,” he shakes his head. “They didn’t.” 

Neither of them say anything for a while. And then Sebastian speaks, softer than Kurt had ever heard. “In med school I was determined to go into cardio thoracic surgery or something equally challenging. But then in my ED rotation a little boy with leukemia came into the ER. He was 7. I was literally terrified. I had lost all sense of composure. I watched as the doctors all stabilized him and I just stared at his monitors in awe. Afterwards, I checked on him before he was transferred up to the unit and he told me that I looked like Superman, and was glad I came back. Something about his case stuck with me. I shadowed on the unit after that. I think with these kids, they’re braver than anyone we’ve ever encountered.” 

Kurt smiles sadly. “They are.” 

Sebastian shifts his weight, sliding his hands in his coat pocket instead of keeping them crossed against his chest. “It’s different. You follow the patients and their families. You get to know them over years of treatments. It’s satisfying in a way I can’t explain.” 

Kurt huffs, titling his head. “So for you it’s about years of glory, not just a quick victory.” 

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth twitches. “I could fix one old guys heart and feel good about it, or I can cure a child’s cancer and maybe that kid grows up to become the next Ghandi or something.” He’s watching Kurt now, like he wants to see his reaction. 

Kurt shrugs, a hint of mischief breaking through the defense and exhaustion.  “Or, he could become a terrorist.” 

They laugh. 

And it’s not uncomfortable. 

Kurt sees something change in Sebastian. His distance lightens just slightly. 

“Why Anderson-Hummel?” Sebastian asks after a long silence. 

“Blaine’s idea. Said that she won’t be able to sneak in in the middle of roll call at school.” 

“That’s an odd reason to want his last name first.” 

“I didn’t mind.” Kurt shrugged. “I got the name I wanted.” 

Sebastian reaches into his coat pocket, scribbles something on a business card. “That’s my personal cell number. Text me updates or if you need anything. If any of you need anything. We’re a team now.” 

“You give this to all your patients?” Kurt says, 

“Of course not,” he smirks, something honest yet playful in his eyes, “Only the ones who I have a debt to.” 

They lock eyes, Kurt smiles gratefully— but before he can say anything Finley stirs. Her voice is soft and broken, almost inaudible. “Dad.” 

Kurt breathes deep. He tucks the card in his pocket and nods at Sebastian. “Thank you.” 

Sebastian looks at Finley, who’s now more alert. “I’ll come see you in the morning when you’re feeling better, Miss Finley. Give your dads a hard time for me.” 

And then he’s gone, and Kurt’s climbing into his daughter's hospital bed and pulling her into his side. He kisses her forehead, caresses her shoulder, tears of gratitude welling in his eyes. Right now, the hospital isn’t a battlefield. It’s just a place that his daughter can heal. 

Chapter Text

By mid-morning, Sebastian had heard that Finley was alert and cracking jokes with the entire staff of the pediatric floor. 

Since ruling out relapse, he wasn’t the physician over her admittance but that didn’t stop him from checking in. He tries to check in with all of his patients if he hears they’re in the hospital.

Kurt is hovering over the side of her bed when Sebastian enters the room, scanning her latest report on his iPad. Blaine greets him with a smile. 

“Anderson. Nice of you to drop by.” Sebastian’s tone is dry. Blaine smiles, ignoring the slight jab Sebastian had thrown.

“I think I let myself get too hopeful that she’s recovering that I could manage to slip away for a while,” Blaine says with a shrug. “I was supposed to be there for two more months, they’re pretty upset I left.” 

“Well,” Sebastian says, sliding the iPad under his arm. “All things considered, she looks great. As long as this continues, I bet Schultz will discharge her tomorrow.” 

“That’s… good.” Kurt says. The words sound reluctant, as if they’re being pulled out of him. 

Sebastian scoffs. “You don’t have to say it like I just gave her a participation trophy, she’s doing awesome, it deserves more praise” He steps towards Finley, extending his hand for a high-five. 

Kurt’s face doesn’t falter. “Forgive me if I’m not giving out compliments, Doctors and I don’t exactly have the best track record.” 

“I noticed.” Sebastian’s tone remains even, but his mouth turns to a smirk. “Lucky for you, I’m not like the other doctors.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Kurt says with a pointed look. 

Sebastian doesn’t miss the glare that Blaine throws towards Kurt. 

And then he’s standing at the computer in the corner of the room, reading the notes in her chart. The same ones he just looked over on his iPad.

The air in the room is tense, Finley’s watching a show on her tablet and he can hear Blaine’s fingers tapping rapidly on his phone. Kurt still hovers over Finley’s bed. 

Sebastian lingers longer than he normally would. He reads the notes more times than necessary. He doesn’t know why.

“Alright,” Sebastian breaks the tense silence. “Keep her eating and resting. I’ll check back in again before she gets discharged. I told Schultz to let me know when he’s ready.” 

“Fine.” Kurt mumbled, not letting his gaze break from Finley’s cartoon as if he was invested himself.

“We’ll do that, thank you, Sebastian. Truly.” Blaine says in his typical friendly tone. 

“I’ll see you later, Miss Anderson-Hummel. Keep giving your dads a hard time.” Sebastian says at the door with a wave.

Finley giggles. 

As Sebastian lets the door close behind him, he hears Blaine’s whispered yell “You really couldn’t play nice for the 4 minutes he was in here?” 

He wants to eavesdrop, to hear what Kurt says to defend himself. 

But that would be unprofessional. 

Besides, he has a 12 year old going in for their first round of chemo in fifteen minutes that he promised he’d join for a round of Fortnite while he was in there.

So he walks away, pushes them to the back of his mind as he would any other family.

Finley continues to remain stable through the night and the next morning. Sebastian hears from the pediatric hospitalist that she’ll be discharged that afternoon.

As they're leaving, he sneaks one of the balls out of the lab work prize bin and tosses it to her with a smile. Makes her promise to bring a good story to her next labwork appointment. And to keep her dad in line, because sometimes he can be a little grumpy. 

She makes a comment about how even when he’s grumpy he still makes better pancakes than Daddy. Blaine feigns offense and Kurt rolls his eyes. 

He watches as the family is walked off the unit by the nursing team, Finley’s laugh lingering behind. He chuckles to himself, turns, and heads to the next patient's room.

Sebastian doesn’t expect Kurt to text him. He’s pretty sure Kurt would have blocked his number and then burned his business card. So he let himself forget that he even gave it to him.

Which means that when his phone buzzes just after ten the night of Finley’s discharge, he is absolutely shocked to see that it is a message from none other than Kurt Hummel.

Kurt: She’s adjusting to being home. Thanks for holding in your judgments in the hospital.

Sebastian stares at it blanky. It’s not an invitation for a conversation, just a brief acknowledgement. Yet something in him can’t resist poking just a little bit.

Sebastian: Didn’t realize you were capable of gratitude. Do you need me to print this and frame it for you?

The three dots appear. Vanish. 

And then, 5 minutes later:

Kurt: Don’t push it.

Sebastian smirks at the screen. Responding with a single saluting emoji.

He doesn’t really plan to make a habit out of messaging Kurt.

Yet he does. He can’t stop himself from checking in with him.

Sebastian: Is the only good thing you’ve done hanging in there today?

Kurt: Fever is still gone. She’s wiped out, though. 

Sebastian: So basically like you after your Broadway run.

He sets the phone aside, going back to the lab results in front of him. He really should focus on them otherwise he’ll be sitting here all night. 

Except his phone buzzes a minute later and he checks it immediately. 

Kurt: You’re insufferable.

Sebastian: And yet, you’re still texting me. Curious.

The rhythm builds over the next few days. Sebastian texts Kurt to check in on Finley, Kurt replies short, simple, and a little sassy. He tells himself that it’s a professional interest, making sure his patient is doing well.

But he doesn’t text other parents to check in. 

Sebastian: Morning status report?

Kurt: She’s back to demanding pancakes. 

Sebastian: Kids bounce back faster than you think. Meanwhile, you still look like you haven’t slept since 2015.

Kurt: Rude. 

By the fourth day, it feels almost routine at this point. He’s mid-charting from last night's admit when he takes a break to send the message.

Sebastian: How’s Finley this morning?

The reply is immediate.

Kurt: You’re asking the wrong dad. I’m going back to bed. Harass Blaine.

Sebastian laughs out loud, startling the nurse sitting across from him. “Sorry.” He mumbles, shaking his head and typing a reply. 

Sebastian: Noted. I’ll add “chronic avoidance of parental responsibility” to your chart.

Kurt: You’re hilarious. Go bother someone else.

Sebastian: Nope. I’m invested now. You’re stuck with me.

It’s not a professional interest, no matter how much he tells himself that it is. He’s starting to actually enjoy messing with Kurt. 

Which is why when he walks into a consult that afternoon, an eight year old sitting with her mother, he turns his phone on do not disturb and turns to what else defines him: being a damn good doctor. 

The girl sitting on the exam table is small for her age. Her legs swing nervously, as soon as he walks into the room the mother starts ranting off every symptom as if she’s auditioning for a medical drama.

Sebastian listens intently, following along on the notes from her primary pediatrician. “Okay.” He says, scooting the stool in the room in front of the young girl and sitting so he’s at eye level with her. “Important questions first: best ice cream flavor?”  

She blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Uh.. Cookie dough?” 

“Correct answer.” Sebastian says with a smile, looking over his shoulder at the mother. “You’re raising her right.” 

The mom actually laughs, shoulders loosening. He keeps the questions simple for the kid. What’s her favorite show, best friend’s name, something she did last weekend. And within minutes she’s smiling, talking like she’s not sitting in a sterile exam room. By the time he circles back to medical questions, she’s relaxed enough to tell him exactly when she started feeling “weird” and what “weird” meant. It’s not rocket science, but he knows the difference this small trust makes.

Later, in the hallway, he runs into Rhea, one of his residency friends working in pediatric cardiology. She leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching him with a smirk.

“You always this charming, or do you just save it for the moms?”

Sebastian grins. “Hey, if it gets them to trust me, why not?”

“Uh-huh.” She arches a brow. “Never thought I’d see the day Sebastian Smythe, chaos incarnate, would be the parent-whisperer.”

“People change,” he says lightly, though it sticks with him after she walks away.

That night, his phone buzzes again.

Kurt: Finley insisted on grilled cheese for dinner. She got halfway through and fell asleep on the couch. 

Sebastian: Impeccable taste. Clearly doesn’t get that from you.

Kurt: Says the man who probably eats protein bars for dinner.

Sebastian glances at the sad granola bar on his counter and grimaces.

Sebastian: Low blow.

He tosses the phone down, but when it buzzes again, he’s already reaching for it.

Kurt: Get used to it. I fight dirty.

Sebastian laughs, shaking his head, but there’s a strange warmth in his chest. He can still hear Rhea’s teasing voice echoing in the back of his mind, the one that called him a parent-whisperer, is almost disorienting as he realizes that she’s right. This isn’t the Sebastian Smythe who thrived on sharp edges and chaos. This is different.

And he loves that that’s who he is now.

A day later, Sebastian is halfway through an uninspired sandwich when a flash of bright hair catches his eye across the cafeteria. He sees Finley, in her pink hoodie and dinosaur slippers, tugging on Blaine’s hand like she’s leading him somewhere important.

He sits up straighter before he can think to stop himself.

“Dr. Smythe!” Finley’s voice carries, cheerful in a way that makes a few heads turn. She grins triumphantly, holding up a cup of green Jell-O like a trophy. “They still had my favorite.”

“Of course they did,” Sebastian says, smoothing his features into professional warmth as they approach. “They probably stock extra just for you.”

Blaine smiles as he trails two steps behind Finley. “We made a deal. She eats half a sandwich, she gets her Jell-O from the hospital cafeteria.” 

Sebastian arches a brow, “Negotiator already. Impressive.”

Finley beams, digging into her dessert while Blaine turns his attention back to Sebastian. “I didn’t expect to run into you. Thanks again for everything you’ve done for her.” His voice is low, steady, and tired around the edges.

“Just doing my job.” Sebastian replies.

Blaine hesitates, then adds, “And sorry that Kurt’s been… prickly. He means well. He just—” He exhales, shaking his head with a wry smile. “He doesn’t really trust easily. Doctors, I mean.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightens. Doctors. As though that was the basis of Kurt’s distaste and frustrations. As if it wasn’t a build up of a dislike for Sebastian and emotional burnout from caretaking. “So I’ve gathered.” He let the words fall flat. “but for what it’s worth, apologies aren’t needed. Parents are allowed to be protective.” 

Blaine’s shoulders ease, his gratitude obvious. “Still. Thanks for putting up with it.”

Sebastian motions to the empty chairs. “Sit. Enjoy your hospital gelatin while it’s still fresh.” 

Finley beams with excitement and plops down immediately. Blaine joined more slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he was intruding.

“So,” Blaine says after a long beat, “you’re a doctor.” 

Sebastian nearly chokes on his water, a laugh threatening.  “Astute observation.” 

Blaine blushes slightly. “I just mean… I don’t remember talking about medicine in high school.” 

“It was always in the plan,” Sebastian shrugs, taking another bite of his sandwich. “I switched specialties once in med school, but Dr. Smythe was locked down by the time I was ten.” 

“I guess we never really talked about the future back then.”

“No,” Sebastian agrees. “We didn’t.” He deflects the conversation with a thin smile. “Anyway, you’re the one that’s out taking the acting world by storm”

“Yeah.” Blaine nods, pride laced in his tone.

“He’s awesome.” Finley announces proudly through a mouthful of Jell-o.

“I’ll bet.” Sebastian says with a smile. “What about your other Dad, what does he do?” 

“Takes care of me.” Finley says, swinging her legs. “We sing together at night and he can’t work or he’d miss it.”

“Kurt was acting before Fin got sick,” Blaine adds gently. “But he’s taken on the role of full-time caretaker since then. It helps to have one of us always with her.” 

“Lots of families feel that way.” Sebastian wipes his hands on the napkin, slowly, nodding in acknowledgment.. “Is he going to go back now that things are looking better?” 

Blaine hesitates. Sebastian sees his eyes dart down to Finley and then around the room quickly, as if he’s trying to find the answer. “Honestly, I don’t know. We haven’t talked about his career since the divorce.” 

“Right.” The words stick in Sebastian’s mind in a way he didn’t expect them to. Since the divorce. As if Kurt’s identity was something Blaine had filed “in the past” and now he only existed to be Finley’s care-taker. The raw edges of Kurt’s voice from a few days ago ring in his mind, the bitterness that Blaine either didn’t notice things or chose not to. 

“What about before the divorce?” He knows the question borders on meddling in places that he shouldn’t, but the thought of Kurt’s fraying patience, and the toll that it would inevitably take on the family, keeps pushing him forward.

Blaine doesn’t get a chance to answer, though.

“Daddy my jello is gone!” Finley exclaims, cheeks streaked green.

“Home and baths then.” Blaine says, gathering the trash from the table. He hesitates again. “Would it be weird for me to give you my number? I’d love to catch up. But I’m not sure the ethics with you being her doctor.” 

Sebastian laughs, shaking his head. “I think we’ll survive.”

They exchange numbers before Blaine and Finley leave, her little hand wrapped in his.

Blaine texts him that night. A simple It was nice to see you today.

It snowballed easily into the old rhythm they once shared. Books, movies, Cooper’s dramatic reactions to Blaine’s success. They reminisced on old Dalton stories. 

It was comfortable and nostalgic. 

Very different from talking with Kurt. 

Kurt’s messages had carried heat. Sarcasm, edgy, irritation barely concealing the heavy thoughts he kept buried in his mind.

Blaine’s messages were all warmth and light. Kurt’s texts were like poking a flame while Blaine’s were like sitting next to a campfire.

He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror that night, his eyes tired but face showing the shadows of the joy he hadn’t meant to wear. He splashed water on his face, as if it would cool the thoughts that he didn’t want to name.

That somehow, between being a good doctor and polite small talk, he was managing to let them both in. 

Which would ultimately make his role as a physician a lot more difficult. 

Chapter Text

It all started as one late-night thank you. A moment of weakness after a call with his dad. 

Then a quick update the next morning. Then Sebastian asked a question, Kurt answered with sarcasm, and somehow, days later, there was a whole thread of exchanges.

Now his phone buzzed once a day, sometimes twice, with a message from him.

On his screen, the name glowed at the top of the thread: D. S. That was it. No first name, no identifying features. Just “Doctor Smythe.”

He had told himself that was intentional. Neutral. Professional. Except… it wasn’t really anymore.  Now it was as if not acknowledging his name somehow made it more acceptable. 

Tonight, he stared down at the pharmacy bottle on the counter, Finley’s untouched water bottle beside it, and typed without thinking:

Kurt: If you’re free tomorrow, I may need an alibi for murdering my ex-husband.

The typing appeared instantly.

D. S.: Bold opener. Do I get to know the motive before I agree to accessory charges?

Kurt: He didn’t pick up Finley’s prescription before the pharmacy closed. Which means I have to drag her across town in the morning and pray we don’t miss a dose.

A beat passed, then:

D. S.: Why can’t Blaine do it?

Kurt rolled his eyes, thumbs flying.

Kurt: Because he has “obligations.” Stardom waits for no man. Or sick child, apparently.

D. S.: …wow. You do realize you just put “stardom” and “purixan” in the same complaint, right?

Kurt: Don’t mock me.

D. S.: Too late. Already imagining you marching through the pharmacy at 9 a.m., murder in your eyes, Broadway-level delivery to the poor tech who hands you the bag.

Kurt snorted, the sound surprising in his own quiet kitchen. He sank into a chair, fingers still moving.

Kurt: You’re lucky you’re not here to see it in person.

D. S.: No. That sounds like the highlight of my week. 

He tossed his phone on the table. Because this was the part that drove him crazy. He was the one rearranging his schedule around pharmacy hours and homework and follow-up appointments. He was the one swapping days again because Blaine had a podcast appearance this week, or a rehearsal, or a networking dinner that “couldn’t be rescheduled.”

It was Kurt who kept Finley’s world from unraveling, and Sebastian, of all people, was the one hearing about it.

He should hate that. He really should.

But when his phone buzzed again, he flipped it over instantly. Because it was nice to have someone who understood his perspective. 

His friends and family don’t really understand what he’s feeling when it comes to the increasing frustration with co-parenting. They assume it’s just misplaced anger at the situation—because Blaine was great. He was considerate. He was kind. 

And he is, Kurt knows that. He knows that Blaine is pulled in a lot of different directions and has varying levels of stress providing for a sick kid while also being present for keeping his career on track.

Blaine really is a great father. And he is a good friend. 

But Kurt has no one who understands his perspective. If he talked to Blaine about it, Blaine would try to fix it by over correcting, by dropping shows or saying “just tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it happily”, or hiring a cleaning service or something else completely irrelevant to the issue. 

Instead of just remembering to pick up a prescription before they had one dose left.  Or even just acknowledging what Kurt was dealing with. 

But that’s the entire problem. That Blaine doesn’t see what Kurt is dealing with. Not in the same way. So how could he acknowledge the weight of it all if he just simply doesn’t understand?

Kurt had tried support groups, therapy, and even reading blogs. Some people would relate, but it never felt comforting in the way that he’d wanted it to. It just added to his guilt for feeling this way at all.  

The next morning he’s walking down the sidewalk with Finley, who has way too much energy and a chocolate stained face. His body is tense, he’s short with people rushing past him, drumming his fingers on the counter at the pharmacy that apparently employs a tech that is part snail. He checks his phone, seeing a new message on the screen, 

D. S.: Were you able to acquire the drugs?

Kurt: Yes. 

D. S.: Good. Can’t let my hard work go to waste because incompetent exes can’t handle simple errands. 

Kurt: You had very little to do with getting her here. 

D. S.: This is my clinic now which means: Stedley’s wins are my wins. 

Kurt chuckles. And then doesn’t respond. 

A few hours later, he texts again. 

D. S.: For next time. If you need more of a village. 

Included is a link to a home delivery pharmacy, that would deliver on a schedule and communicate with the doctors when prescriptions were expiring. 

The gesture is small. Kurt isn’t sure what to make of it. 

He takes twenty minutes to text back. 

Kurt: Will look into it.

After he tucks Finley into bed for the night, her white noise machine set to 100 percent volume, he makes his way to the living room. The space was crowded with a folding table, chairs and couches pulled up around it. Rachel was ranting about how disastrous her latest rehearsal had been. 

Jesse turns to Blaine, clearly having heard the story enough times.“Whatever happened with that limited you were supposed to be filming right now? Did they freak when you bolted?” 

Blaine shifts in his seat. “Yep. I just sent the team a text and hopped on a flight.” He laughs nervously. “They weren’t too happy, but it is what it is. My kid was in the hospital, I had to be there. I’ll go back on Tuesday and we’ll hopefully make up the time. It’s fine.” 

Rachel clinks her glass of wine with his, “Only you could leave mid-shoot and get welcomed back with open arms.” 

Kurt smiles politely, but his grip tightens on his glass. He’d known Blaine was leaving on Tuesday, they’d talked about it and agreed that it would be fine. That he’d be back in time for Finley’s next check up and they’d stay in contact as they had before. Blaine had signed a contract, and he didn’t really want to get out of it anyway. And Kurt couldn’t in good conscience ask him to. But still. Hearing it dropped into conversation so casually stung just a little.

He takes a sip of his wine, hoping to swallow the feelings down with it. 

“You’ll just come back with even more dramatic material” Kurt says, aiming for teasing “Maybe they’ll throw in an Emmy for parent of the year while they’re at it.” 

Everyone laughed. Of course they did. Kurt had nailed the delivery of admiration instead of resentment. 

“Honestly, they should.” Rachel adds.

The conversation continues to flow, the room buzzing warmly around them. 

But Kurt doesn’t really feel the warmth the same way. He twists his wine glass between his fingers, trying to distract himself from the pressure building in his chest.

His phone buzzes on the table and he glances down.  

D. S.: One of the nurses just told me that I’m way better looking AND easier to talk to than Stedley. Should I pretend to be humble or bask in the truth?

Kurt snorts under his breath before he can stop himself. He rolls his lips together, glancing around the table to see if anyone had noticed. He angles his phone away, just in case. 

Kurt: Please don’t tell me you’re texting me just to get external validation 

D. S.: No. I already knew it. I just thought you’d appreciate the news flash. 

Kurt shakes his head, itching to reply again. Sebastian was self centered. Way too cocky. Yet Kurt had appreciated the interruption. 

He sets his phone back down, this time face down. 

The laughter from his friends is still going strong, Blaine’s voice is rich above them all. Kurt smiles with the rest, but not for the same reasons. 

His fingers drum against the stem of his glass, the restless motion not satisfying his need to move his hands right now. He lets the sound of laughter and friendship linger a beat longer and then pushes his chair back and begins clearing plates. 

“No, Kurt, leave it!” Rachel calls, laughter lacing every word. “We can get them later.”

“It’s fine,” he says, the steadiness in his own voice surprising him. He balances two plates in one hand and reaches for a third. 

Across the room, Jesse tilts his head slightly. “Didn’t you say that you were going to meetings about teaching? Like a guest lecture thing?”

Kurt glances over. “Yeah,” he admits, with a smile that finally doesn’t feel forced. He walks over, a bounce in his step that he isn’t sure where it came from. “One of the professors at NYADA asked me to come in and talk about performance prep. How to handle stress, stamina, all of that.” 

“Honestly, you’d be great at that.” Blaine says, glancing over with genuine pride. “You’ve been doing that for all of us for years.” 

Kurt flushes slightly, ducking his head. Some part of him wants to argue, but it’s buried so deep for the first time that he doesn’t feel the need to. He leans into the conversation, talking about scheduling and hours and how many classes he will be visiting. 

He talks about Finley, that he needs to find someone to help with her during the hours that he’ll be gone, and Rachel immediately volunteers Jesse. 

Kurt doesn’t get to accept himself, because Blaine does it for him. 

He pushes the frustration aside, because Jesse or Rachel would have been his first choice, too. 

The evening winds down in fits of laughter and unfinished stories. Rachel and Jesse leave sleepily while Blaine lingers on the couch.

“I can stay here tonight.” He says, pulling a throw blanket over his shoulders. “Your couch is calling my name. And that way I can get up with Finley, you deserve a break.” 

Kurt lingers. It should have felt like a relief. It was kind. Thoughtful, even. The kind of gesture that a good friend, or a good co-parent, would offer. 

So why did he still feel guilty? 

Because: he felt invisible in the chaos. And here Blaine was, noticing the exhaustion and offering help. Yet Kurt can’t unclench the resentment that he even needs help in the first place. 

“Thanks,” he says, and it’s quieter than he intends. 

Blaine smiles, “I’ll even take her to the coffee shop and get you one of the bagels you like.” 

Kurt returns the smile, turning to his bedroom and his body heavy with the weight of all of the things he can’t let himself say. 

He hates that the exhaustion makes him ungrateful. He hates that he wants more acknowledgment than Blaine seems to be able to give. 

Mostly, though, he hates that even now with Blaine being good, considerate, it still didn’t feel like enough. 

The next morning, he wakes to the sound of Blaine and Finley giggling.

He walks out to the sight of Finley sitting on Blaine’s lap, a yogurt tube in one hand and her iPad in the other. Blaine glances over when he hears the footsteps. 

“Hey”, Blaine says. “I was thinking I could also keep her today. Just me and her, before I leave tomorrow. Maybe go to brunch, chocolate pancakes with a bunch of whipped cream, the book store, music in the park…” 

Kurt grabs a mug from the cupboard. It was rare for Blaine to take her for an entire day lately, even though their custody agreement had him having her half the time. But it made sense, he was leaving for another two months so this was his last chance to spend the day with her for a while. So he says, “I think she’d like that.” 

“You should take advantage,” Blaine adds, smiling faintly. “Do something for yourself.”

Kurt nods, though he doesn’t decide what “doing something for himself” means until later, after Blaine and Finley had been gone for an hour.

He’s already loaded the dishwasher and started folding the endless pile of laundry, reality TV humming in the background.

He needs to move, to sweat out whatever is lodged deep in his chest. 

So he does. 

Two hours later, Kurt finds himself in the gym. A place he’d only been maybe once since Finley was diagnosed. The smell blend of rubber mats, sweat, and disinfectant immediately triggering the memory. He stretched. Adjusted a weight machine. And sank into the rhythm. A rhythm that didn’t consist of parenting, or scheduling, or caretaking. 

It was almost relaxing. Until a voice cuts the silence from across the room. 

“Well, well, well.” 

Kurt glances up, and there he spots Sebastian Smythe walking towards him with a faded tee-shirt and running shoes, half-smirking with a towel draped over his shoulder. 

“You? In a gym? Should I be worried?”

Kurt doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t break his rep count. “Need to maintain a performance-ready core.”

Sebastian leans against the next machine. “Right, because college professors are notorious for their shirtless monologue units.”

Kurt muffles a laugh. He keeps going 

Instead of walking away, Sebastian sits down at the machine next to him, sets the weights with a loud clank, and starts in. For a while, they work side by side in silence. 

Kurt’s set is coming to a close when a guy in neon sneakers walks over and leans casually against Sebastian’s machine. “Hey, just saying that I see you guys in here working hard. Respect.” 

Kurt blinks. Sebastian gives a noncommittal nod. 

“Consistency’s everything you know.” Neon Sneakers continues, arms miming as if he was delivering a Ted Talk. “That’s what separates people who actually see results from the ones who quit the second week into January.”

“Right,” Sebastian says flatly, not missing a beat. 

“Mhmm.” Kurt adds, already over it. 

“Anyway,” The guy grins, clapping his hands, “Y’all keep at it. Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

The both mutter vague thanks as he walks off. 

When Kurt finishes, he grabs his towel and doesn’t say anything. He just stretches and heads towards the locker room.

Kurt gets back to his apartment an hour later, folding more laundry, the soundtrack to Spring Awakening playing. A welcome change, not having to worry about Finley demanding he change it to the newest Disney musical. 

He’s interrupted when his phone lights up on the bed. 

D. S.: That guy was definitely trying to get in my pants.

Kurt snorts, shaking his head as he types back. 

Kurt: Please. He slipped me his number in the locker room. 

D. S.: … and you didn’t tell me sooner because? Hummel, this is perfect comedy material right here. 

Kurt: Because I thought you already knew everything. Doctor. 

He sets the phone down, smiling despite himself, and folds the laundry. His views of Sebastian seem to be shifting, and he can’t put his finger on why.

Maybe Kurt’s ready to just let bygones be bygones. 

Chapter Text

Sebastian had been in the hospital since 4:30 that morning. Early morning admits, a day full of clinic appointments, and twelve hours worth of charting. 

And he couldn’t resist the urge to text Kurt to break up the day. It was becoming a habit. They’d had a rhythm going ever since their awkward gym encounter with Neon Sneakers a week ago. 

Sebastian: You can rest easy knowing I told three families their kids are in remission today.

He hit send without even really thinking much of it, slipped his phone into his coat pocket, and went back to charting.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then thirty. 

It was fine. Sebastian understood.

Kurt had a life. A daughter who needed medication schedules tracked down to the minute, an ex-husband who apparently lived in some other timezone altogether, and a Broadway career simmering just out of reach. 

It wasn’t like Sebastian expected an instant reply. He just sort of… wanted one.

He tries to shake it off. He forces himself to finish his charts, typing clinic notes that blurred together on the screen. Every so often, his eyes flick to the corner where his phone sat, dark and silent.

By the time he leaves the clinic he knows he needs something to numb the irritation buzzing under his skin. He shouldn’t care. They weren’t even really anything aside from two men with a history of distaste for each other bound by a kid’s diagnosis. And a few text messages poking fun at each other. 

He tosses the phone back in his coat, rolling his eyes at himself. Was this what he’d been reduced to? He’d survived med school, residency, nights running codes until his brain felt fried but now he’s checking his phone every few minutes like a love sick teenager. 

It was just before two in the morning, Sebastian still mindlessly scrolling instagram instead of sleeping, when the notification comes in.

Kurt: Congratulations, Doctor Superman. Happy for the families. Maybe don’t rub it in the faces of people who didn’t get good news today?

Kurt: And before you say anything, yes my attempts to be gracious at 2am deserve a gold star.

Sebastian stares at the words longer than he normally would have. Relief spread through him, loosening something he hadn’t realized was wound quite so tight.

Sebastian: Or you could choose to see it as your daughter’s doctor being a miracle worker.

He doesn’t look away from the thread while he waits for a reply.

Kurt: Modest as ever.

Sebastian: Comes with the job description. Besides keep that perspective long enough and before you know it you’ll be the one getting a complete remission notice.

His fingers hover, just for a second, before he types the next line.

Sebastian: And then you’ll never have to see me again.

He tosses the phone onto his pillow, an empty feeling in his stomach. That was how this was supposed to work. Kids got better, families walked out the doors, and he stayed behind, moving on to the next terrified parent, the next chart, the next battle.

Every once in a while physicians would be able to stay in contact with their patients but Sebastian was pretty sure once she was in complete remission, he’d never see or hear from Finley or her Dad’s again.

Sebastian isn’t sure why the idea of Kurt never texting him again felt like something close to a loss.

Kurt: Somehow I think you’ll still find ways to weasel back into my life. You’re making a habit of it.

Sebastian barks a laugh, startling himself in the quiet. 

Sebastian: Weasel? Charming. Is that the official verdict from the Hummel court?

Kurt: Consider it your permanent designation. Dr. Weasel.

Sebastian: I worked too hard on this degree for you to rename me after a rodent.

Kurt: Then stop acting like one.

Sebastian rolls onto his side, staring at the glowing screen. He should stop. He should have let Kurt win this round. Instead:

Sebastian: Admit it. You would miss me if I stopped texting.

Kurt: Bold assumption.

Sebastian: Not an assumption. A clinical observation.

Kurt: Do they teach arrogance in med school or were you grandfathered in?

Sebastian: Nah. Natural talent. Some of us are born gifted.

He's grinning like an idiot now. 

Kurt: God help me, but this is the most normal conversation I’ve had in weeks.

The words land heavier than Kurt probably meant them to. Sebastian stared at them a long time before answering.

Sebastian: Guess I’ll take “normal” over “resentful glare” any day.

Kurt: Don’t get used to it.

The thread keeps unraveling. What started as jokes turned into long pauses, heavier truths slipped in between sarcastic jabs.

Kurt complained about the grocery delivery forgetting Finley’s favorite crackers. Sebastian admitted he’d eaten a Snickers bar for dinner in the resident lounge more times than he cared to admit.

They spiraled from Finley’s favorite bedtime songs to a debate about whether “real” New Yorkers would ever willingly eat at Olive Garden. (Sebastian swore he’d die defending the breadsticks; Kurt threatened to stage an intervention.)

Hours disappear. He kept telling himself to stop, that he’s meeting Nick for coffee before morning rounds. But he can’t, the messages bring a laughter that he craves.

The glow of the screen is the only light in the room until Sebastian finally blinks and notices the clock read 4:17 a.m.

He drops back onto the mattress with a groan, but the lingering ache in his cheeks reminds him he’s been smiling more in the last two hours than he had in months.

It was reckless, letting Kurt in this way. 

But after being awake for 24-hours, that recklessness didn’t really seem so bad. 

He lets himself dwell on the thought as he drifts to sleep. 

Sebastian’s alarm blares three hours later and about five hours earlier than he’d hoped for. He groans, knowing that Nick would end up banging his door down dramatically if he didn’t show up at the agreed meeting time. So he gets himself up and out the door with record time. Coffee would really do him good, anyway. 

He arrives at the small coffee shop near the hospital before Nick, ordering himself a simple black coffee and claiming a table tucked into the corner. It’s only a few minutes later when Nick slides into the seat across from him.

“Holy shit, you look like a zombie.” Nick says, eyes widening. “Late night calls?”

Sebastian sips his coffee, shaking his head. “No, just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Ooooh.” Nick smirks. “I thought promiscuous Sebastian was retired?” 

“He’s not retired, just on… indefinite hiatus.” 

“So what kept you up all night.” 

Sebastian shrugs, pretending that it was nothing serious. “I was texting someone.” 

Nick doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he adjusts in his seat, sets his arms on the table, hands clasped together. 

“Nope.” Sebastian says with a shake of his head. 

Nick continues to stare, eyes waiting for more. 

Sebastian’s lips twitch. He needed a subject change, fast. “Did I ever tell you I ran into Kurt and Blaine?”

That shifts something in Nick, his eyebrows shooting up. “Together? Aren’t they divorced.” 

“Yes. And yes. They were with their daughter.”

“Where on earth did you run into them?” Nick says, disbelief in his tone.

Sebastian hesitates, eyes darting around the room. “Just… around.” 

He realizes pretty quickly that was not the best idea for a subject change, because it opens up an entire other can of worms that he can't get into. Nor does he really want to. Much to Sebastian's relief, Nick doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t have to. Sebastian's avoidance had said enough.

There’s a long pause before Nick leans back. “So, the guy that you were texting all night?” 

“You won’t drop this, will you?” Sebastian tries to sound casual. He avoids Nick’s gaze, fidgeting with the sleeve on the side of his coffee cup. 

“What can I say, I’m invested.” 

Sebastian looks up, brow raised. “Your wife’s need for gossip getting to you?”

“I’m getting back to my small town roots. ‘Who is Doctor Smythe interested in, and can I convince him to give my cousins best friends neighbor a chance instead’.”

Sebastian laughs. “Did you guys get that house you wanted?” 

“Wow, subject change.”

“Yes. House? How’s opening the husband-wife peds clinic?” 

“Of course we got the house! Emma is super excited… but we can talk about that stuff later.” 

“No, Nick. I don’t think we can.” 

Nick raises his hands in mock surrender, slipping away to get his own coffee. Sebastian checks his phone while he waits and sees a new text notification. His lips pull into a smile immediately.

Kurt: Never keep me up until 4am again.
Sebastian: Wow, not even a please? You ever hear about manners?

He feels the notification vibration go off again, but doesn’t get a chance to check it before Nick returns.

“Okay, so seriously.” Nick says, sliding back into his seat. “what have you been up to? You’re being weirdly vague and my spidey senses won’t stop telling me you’re hiding something juicy.” 

Sebastian shrugs, pretending not to care. “Just the regular chaos. Saving lives, charming parents, every once in a while I’ll call up that Rad Tech I told you about.” 

“Oh, is that your secret midnight texts?” Nick bounces excitedly, as if he had just cracked the secret code.

Sebastian downs the last of his coffee, wincing at the heat.  “If I tell you who I was texting will you agree to drop it?”

Nick smirks. “Depends.” 

Sebastian inhales slowly, bracing himself. “I’ve been… Texting Kurt.” 

Nick freezes mid sip of his coffee, Sebastian tries not to laugh as he watches Nick try to refrain from actually spitting it out. “Wait—Kurt as in Kurt Hummel, Blaine’s ex-husband, the one you at one point called out for his baby gay face? You’re… texting him?” 

“Don’t get excited, they’re not anything to write home about.” Sebastian clarifies. “I just don’t bring it up because there are a lot of layers. Confidentiality and all that jazz. I didn’t want to break every rule in the book.” 

Nick leans back with a grin, crossing his arms. “What do you and Kurt even talk about all night long, who has the stronger glare?” 

Sebastian rubs the back of his neck, eyes narrowing. “I’m pretty sure we were debating breadsticks.” 

“Oh my god.” Nick’s jaw drops. “I can’t believe this. Gold. Pure gold.” 

“More like a slow moving train wreck.” Sebastian mutters. 

“God, this is the greatest thing I’ve heard all week.” 

“You live a boring life, then.” He says, dryly.

Nick’s eyes light up. “I do. Ready to bask in the suburban doctor glory. Soon enough, I’ll be texting you updates on my neighbors mailboxes.” Nick says, extending hands with dramatic flair. 

Sebastian clears his throat dramatically and adjusts to the scene. “‘Sebastian, you will not guess what the Miller’s did with their mailbox this week! They put a note on it that says ‘we appreciate our mail man’. Ass-kissers.’” he says with a mock seriousness. “‘So obviously we had to do them one better, and Emma made the mailman cinnamon rolls with pounds of icing and fresh squeezed orange juice. She sat outside looking all hot and just waited for him to arrive.’” 

“Okay, first of all, Emma would be way more passive aggressive than that. Secondly… you think my wife is hot?” He says, leaning across the table. 

“For a woman, sure.” Sebastian says nonchalantly. 

There’s a beat of silence before Nick says “I am so happy that we’re moving close enough that I can just hop into the city and watch the chaos unfold.” 

Sebastian raises a brow, trying to hide the smirk forming, his words laced with affection and humor “You want a front row seat to my life unraveling?”

“Someone has to keep you honest…” Nick winks. “or at least entertained.” 

“Right.” Sebastian stands, adjusting his jacket. “Duty calls. Patients wait for no man,” 

Sebastian tucks his hands into his pocket and walks out to the city, the morning crisp, fall right around the corner. As he navigates the walk to the hospital, his lips remain smiling at the conversation between him and Nick.

In high school, he had never expected Nick to be the single lasting and most important friendship he would have. But there was a lot about his life now that high school Sebastian wouldn’t be able to believe. 

He makes his way to the second floor of the hospital clinic where his office is located, scanning emails on his phone and absolutely not watching where he’s walking when his shoulder bumps into someone walking the opposite direction. He instantly feels their coffee spilling down his arm. 

“You know if you watched where you were walking,” he hears the unmistakable voice of Kurt Hummel say through irritation, “you wouldn’t be wearing my coffee right now.” 

“My god.” Sebastian mumbles, rubbing his temples. “I have about a thousand emails to catch up on, I am completely exhausted, and just spent the last hour being berated by my best friend whose life is so boring he has to nag me for every detail of mine.” 

He exhales slowly, realizing his tone was bordering on blaming Kurt. “I didn’t mean to run into you.” 

“Maybe you should have gotten more sleep.” Kurt says. There’s a teasing look in his eyes, but his tone doesn't match. It’s dry and carefully measured. 

“But then who would keep you entertained?” Sebastian fires back with a smirk, trying to pull something lighter from him.

But he doesn’t hit the mark. 

Instead of softening, he watches as Kurt’s posture changes. He catches it immediately. The way his shoulders pull inward slightly, the way his neck straightens. His gaze moves from Sebastian’s to the half-filled coffee cup in his hand. As if it had suddenly carried too much weight to look at Sebastian. Kurt’s hand tightens on the strap of what he recognizes as Finley’s bag. 

He realizes that he’s just watched Kurt throw up walls. It was something he was familiar with, he’s seen parents do it countless times when he’s delivering news in hallways. 

It catches him off guard. Because last night Kurt on the other end of the phone was wide open. Sarcastic and sharp-tongued as always, but there. They’d joked about breadsticks and reality tv drama for hours like they were just two idiot friends with nothing heavy tying them together. And now Kurt in the hallway won’t even meet his eye. 

“Finley will be done with group in about fifteen.” Kurt says abruptly. “I should head back downstairs for a refill.” 

Sebastian doesn’t move. He doesn’t answer. He just watches as Kurt turns to walk away. 

He wants to say something. Tell Kurt that he doesn’t have to put those walls up anymore. That Sebastian in the hospital hall is the same Sebastian that can joke with him at midnight. That he doesn’t have to shut the door once something gets uncomfortable. 

But he doesn’t. 

He swallows it. And goes back to work, putting on a smile for the families that need that side of Sebastian today. 

His day goes by in a blur. He sends treatment plans, calls insurance companies that don’t want to pay for prescriptions, he cries with a father who decides to withdraw care of his son. He eats in fragments between consults and check-ups. By the time he makes it home, it’s after ten. 

He tosses his keys on the counter. Slides into a seat with his takeout Chinese food. And pulls his phone out of his pocket to pass time while eating.

The text unread from Kurt this morning, before the unfortunate coffee incident, remains on his lock screen. 

He opens it. 

Kurt: I don’t think you are really one to lecture me about manners. 

Sebastian hesitates with his thumb pressed against the glass screen. He had been trading jabs with Kurt for weeks. Written words seem to be safe. Texts allowed distance. Time to craft. But in person, Kurt put up walls in the span of a single heartbeat. 

The thoughts sit with him for a moment longer. 

And then, against his better judgement, replies anyway. 

Because if Kurt behind the texts is all he can have, he’ll settle for it.

Sebastian: I have manners. 

He stares at the screen. One message feels too abrupt. Doesn’t fully extend the olive branch.

So he sends another. 

Sebastian: For example: I am sorry I spilled your coffee this morning 

And then, another. 

Sebastian: I hope you got a new one. You’re insufferable when you’re without caffeine.  Or so I hear. 

The reply is immediate. 

Kurt: You call that an apology? Weak. No wonder you don’t have any friends. 

Sebastian: Did you forget the part of the morning where I told you I had spent an hour getting torn apart by my best friend? 

Kurt: I assumed you were lying. I have a hard time imagining anyone wanting to be friends with you. 

Sebastian: I have friends. 

Kurt: Name one. 

Sebastian: Well, your ex-husband is one.
Sebastian: And then there’s Nick, he’s basically my best friend. He’d confirm.
Sebastian: And Boston, he’s a Radiology tech. Though we really are only friends when one of us needs…. favors. 

Kurt: Nick? That poor man has to call you his best friend? 

Sebastian: Yes. He’s lucky to have me. We’ve been through a lot together. Warblers, med school application cycles, residency interviews… 

Kurt: I am familiar with him. He’s a sweet guy. A little loud.
Kurt: Wouldn’t really put him in your orbit. 

Sebastian: We bonded over shared stress of being in med-school and living on vending machine snacks. 

Kurt: That is truly the foundation of a lasting friendship. 

Sebastian: Exactly. Now he’s married, moving to Jersey, opening a pediatrics office with his wife. Living in pure domestic bliss. It’s sickening. 

Sebastian stares at the screen with a smile. He can almost picture Kurt’s reactions while reading the messages, tilting his head slightly and pretending not to be amused… it’s almost confusing how clearly he can see it. 

Every fiber of him wants to keep the conversation going, but his eyes were aching with the need for sleep. So before Kurt can reply, he locks his phone on the nightstand and tries to let himself forget that there’s an open conversation waiting when he wakes. 

Chapter Text

The days following Blaine’s return to California feel scarily similar to they had when Blaine was still in the city. 

Kurt still wakes up with Finley every morning and gives her her morning medication. 

Helps her pick out clothes and make the bed.

Combs her hair while she sits at the computer to work on lessons. 

He makes her favorite lunch. 

Posts a sponsored instagram story that actually hurts his heart to post but the bills don’t stop even when your kid gets sick. 

They do their nightly songs while he tucks her into bed. 

And the routine continues on, every day. 

Sometimes, they’ll facetime his dad, or Blaine, or take the computer to the park for school just to break up the monotony of the days. 

Sometimes, Rachel comes over in the middle of the week.  One time, she dramatically reveals her pregnancy. It serves as a reminder that life continues on for others, even when his is spinning in circles. Despite that feeling, Kurt beams with genuine excitement, the happiness radiating from her infectiously. 

And every day, among all the other constants, there’s witty text messages exchanged between him and Sebastian. 

He wouldn’t admit it, of course, but they’re one of the few highlights he’s experiencing. 

Slowly, the month goes on. Monotonous and predictable. Almost safe. 

And then, one evening when Blaine calls right on schedule, things shift.  

The first thing Blaine says, before Kurt can even get a greeting out, “I have to tell you something.” 

Kurt’s heart rate increases. Typically Blaine calls, makes sure Finley is okay and then Kurt lingers as she catches up with him. Blaine’s words are jarring, something he hadn’t expected.

Kurt’s mind starts going through the list of every worst case scenario: filming extension, family emergency, an issue with Finley’s lab work (even though there’s no logical way Blaine would know that without being there.)

All of them seem more likely than Blaine sounding this nervous over good news. 

“Oh… Kay.” Kurt says, carefully.

“I think I might be dating someone?” 

Kurt blinks. “How do you think you might be dating someone?” 

“Well… Okay, so… I know I’ve gone out with him a few times and there’s obvious flirting from him… but I don’t know what it means exactly.”

“Did you ever think to ask him?”

Blaine pauses. ”No.”

He tries not to laugh. “Maybe you should text him.”

“That’s… an idea.” 

Kurt can hear the hesitation, the concern. He knows Blaine better than anyone. He’s probably pacing right now. 

“What’s stopping you?” He asks.

Blaine swallows. Kurt waits. Debates pushing. And then, Blaine says, “What if I’m reading into this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I don’t know, I’m just me. He’s… him. With a band and awards and success.” 

Kurt doesn’t hold back the laugh this time. Deep and disbelieving. “Blaine, you’ve had success too. Your broadway debut was literally a featured role in Hamilton. It almost doesn’t get better than that. There’s also the tiny little Emmy nomination.”

“I guess.” Blaine concedes. 

“Just text him.”

Silence hums through the line. Kurt adjusts the phone against his ear. 

“Do you ever think about it?” Blaine asks.

Kurt frowns. “About your success? I try not to. Otherwise I get jealous.” His tone is light, playful, but still laced in truth.

“No,” Blaine says, quietly, and Kurt can almost hear the little smile tugging at his lips. “about… dating again, meeting someone.” 

Kurt hesitates. Because yes, he’d thought about it. He thought about what it might mean, what it would cost. And each time he thought about it it overwhelmed him completely.  He had a lot of baggage and finding someone who was not only okay with it but understood sounded impossible. 

Bringing someone into Finley’s orbit? Terrifying. Leaving her with a babysitter so he could go out with a stranger? That was just unthinkable.

“Thought about, yes.” Kurt admits finally. “Intend to do it? No.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Ohh, I know that sound.” Kurt says, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. 

“I just don’t like the idea of you being alone… with everything.” The words should make Kurt smile. Make him feel important and seen. Instead he just feels defensive. 

It’s easy for Blaine to act concerned from a tv set on the other side of the country and not here in the trenches of it all. Just like it’s easy for Blaine to act concerned now that he’s removed from all of it, instead of being concerned a year and a half ago, when Kurt was trying to hold everything together for him and for Finley, and Blaine didn’t notice how alone Kurt had become. How he had needed his husband to lean on instead of being the solid one for both of them.

“I’m not alone.” The words are quick. Sharp. 

Blaine sighs. “Kurt.”

“Look, don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”

Lies. He can hear the sourness of them in his own mouth, but neither of them say anything further.

“Okay.” Blaine concedes softly. “Let me talk to Fin?”

Kurt passes her the phone, watching as Finley’s entire face lights up as she talks to him. She talks about Monica doing her lab work, the stickers she’s been collecting, and how much better she is doing in math. Her voice is bubbly and bright, full of excitement. The kind of excitement Kurt hadn’t heard from her in days. 

When the call ends, the apartment falls into silence again. Kurt stares at the dishes stacked in the sink. Tells himself that it’s good that Blaine’s dating again. That he deserves someone who makes him feel light and that Finley deserves the kind of joy that only Blaine can summon from her. 

He tells himself he’s fine with everything. Over and over. Like it’s a mantra.

But as much as he keeps telling himself he’s fine, his mind keeps wandering. About how Blaine dating again will change the dynamic they’ve crafted. What would happen when the calls at the end of the day aren’t just her wanting to check in with her Dad, but also the other man in her life? 

The thought twists Kurt’s stomach. She deserves to be surrounded by endless amounts of love and joy, but the thought of someone entering her world, someone he doesn’t know and has no say in, reminds him that there’s so much about the life she has that he can’t control. 

He tries to shake it off, because this is just a season. It will pass. In four months, they’ll be in complete remission and down to only yearly checkups. In four months, she’ll be going back to school instead of working on the laptop. In four months, he’ll start putting out auditions and going back to being Kurt Hummel - rising star. Not Kurt Hummel - parent of kid with cancer. 

And maybe, after all of that, he’ll revisit the idea of finding someone to share it with. Maybe then it won’t be so terrifying. 

His phone pings a message from Blaine. A screenshot of his text conversation with someone named Fred, a few short lines of playful back and forth, ending with Fred confirming that they’re definitely exclusively dating. 

Blaine captioned it: That answers that!! 

Kurt stares at it longer than he should. Trying not to over analyze. He presses down a like reaction, adds a string of emojis. It’s supportive, easy, and ex-husband appropriate.

He suspects that he should feel relief, or maybe even happiness. 

He thinks about calling his dad, but he doesn’t even know what he would say — Hey, just wanted to hear your voice and pretend everything is fine for a few minutes?  He doesn’t really know if hearing his dad’s voice would make things better… or worse. 

The longing sits in his chest, sharp and uncomfortable. 

The buzz of a new notification startles him from his thoughts. 

D. S.: Honest opinion, are group fitness classes a cult or am I just bitter that they made me do squats in sync?

Kurt exhales. He moves to reply like it’s a reflex, something warming in his body.

Kurt: Oh, absolutely a cult. I’m amazed you made it out alive. 

D. S.: Barely. I’ll be hearing “just two more!” in my nightmares. 

Kurt’s shoulders ease as the exchange rolls on in a way that the silence doesn’t feel quite so suffocating.

Kurt: Honestly, if you can survive synchronized squats, you can survive anything. 

D.S.: Strong words coming from someone whose idea of cardio is high kicks across a stage. 

Kurt: That counts. Precision and stamina. Look it up. 

D.S.: Fine, i’ll allow it.

Kurt shakes his head, a smile lingering. The conversation keeps going. It’s light and ridiculous. Sebastian rants about the lack of decent coffee at the hospital, Kurt sends him a picture of Finley’s art project. Sebastian replies with dramatic interpretations like it’s a modern piece for sale. 

He tells himself that it’s harmless. That it’s just a distraction. Their banter is full of sharp and effortless humor. And under all of that, Sebastian’s presence weaves its way into something grounding, like something settling into the cracks of unease.

And as he puts his phone down for the night, conversations with Sebastian tucked away for another night, his mind wanders back to what he thought his life would be like, and how vastly different it has become. That the future he’d imagined with his husband, the family that he’d wanted and the career that he’d craved, was gone. Completely out of the realm of possibility. And yet, Blaine seemed to be moving on, making the best of it as he always did. 

Kurt really hated that. 

Without even processing it, a week has gone by. And then another. 

Rachel comes over almost every day while Jesse works on his show. They record instagram reels of singing broadway hits at Rachel’s insistence.  (“Pregnancy is taking a toll on my breath range, Kurt. I need to practice!”)

He pretends not to notice that Sebastian has liked every single one of the posts. 

Until they go a day without posting one and Sebastian texts him about it. 

D. S.: Are you not posting a #BroadwayBesties video today?

Kurt: Is this you admitting you’re one of my adoring fans?

D. S: Please. I’m an adoring fan of all the comments theorizing your illicit affair. Bad Idea really fed into those.

Kurt: Ha. I might have to do a story time explaining all of the reasons I wouldn’t ever bat an eye towards Rachel. Number one: I make it a rule not to date anyone who has made out with my ex-husband. 

D. S.: I guess it’s a good thing Blaine always said no to me, then.

D. S.: And also… when did that happen? I need the story. 

Kurt doesn’t let himself dwell on the stutter his heart does as he reads and instead dives into the story of Blaine and Rachel’s brief dating history in high school. 

The night fades into morning, the same routines of every day fold into each other. 

And then Blaine is back in the city, telling Finley stories with dramatic flair. And, of course, Kurt is the one who has to keep her on schedule.  

And before long it’s the morning of Finley’s next appointment. 

As he goes through the motions of the morning, Kurt realizes that he has to actually see Sebastian in the flesh after weeks of texting at all hours and building what some would call a friendship. They’ll be in the same room, with his ex-husband and daughter.

And for some reason, that feels really scary for him to deal with. Almost as scary as the uncertainty these appointments always carry.

Up until now, he had been able to disassociate the relationships that they had. The guy in the doctors office was just that: Finley’s competent doctor, who Kurt had a history of not liking but was giving him another chance because Blaine had asked him to. 

It is not the same as the nameless guy in his phone he’d been texting back and forth for weeks. 

Right before they walk in, his phone pings once. 

D. S.: You guys got this.

Kurt stares at it. Brief. Friendly. He pockets his phone, hands trembling. Not with doubt, exactly, but with the weight of what they could be walking into. He turns his head to Finley who is skipping inside with Blaine, both of them optimistic and hopeful as ever. 

He tries to will himself to feel the same. But his heart is pounding against his rib cage, his throat scratchy, and head racing with every potential situation that could be waiting for him on the other side of the appointment.

They walk into the clinic together just like always. Finley’s bright pink beanie in the middle, clutching both her dad’s hands who are proudly sporting the same attire. 

She checks herself in because she’s been there so many times before the routine is second nature. 

There’s a new medical assistant in the office for this appointment. She introduces herself to Finley as June and excels at small talk while checking vitals. Finley is immediately smitten with her. Giggling through every exchange.

And when they’re sitting in the room, June lingers at the door when Sebastian walks in. 

It’s the first hint to Kurt that this isn’t going to be the routine conversation he had hoped for.

She wouldn’t be lingering if Sebastian didn’t want to talk to the parents alone. And he wouldn’t want to talk to the parents alone if it was good news.

Sebastian’s smile is polite but paired with a tenseness in his shoulders that is unmistakable. His tone is professional, compassionate. 

The message from Sebastian earlier flashes in his mind. 

It happens just like that. 

The space between D. S. on his phone and Dr. Sebastian Smythe in the room vanishes.

And Kurt isn’t sure he’s ready for what comes next. 

Chapter Text

Sebastian really hates mornings like this. The kind that starts with bad news and coffee. 

Half the names on the list of the days patients carry bad news. He sees the counts dip too low, the marrow percentages slide in the wrong direction, the bone scans that spoke more intensely than words. It’s the part of the job that never seems to get easier: reading the story of a child’s struggle in numbers and smears before anyone else knows.

Then he clicks on the next name.

Finley Hummel-Anderson.

He had known she was coming in before he even looked at his schedule for the day.

Both Kurt and Blaine had texted him at some point in the past few days anxiously. Kurt was sharp and short, Blaine had jokes and emojis. But they both said the same thing underneath, they were worried.

His eyes skim the numbers once. Then again, slower. The ANC drop. The smear flagged by pathology. He feels his chest shift, a fist closing around his lungs.

“No, no, no,” he whispers to himself, rubbing his forehead. He scrolls back up, searching for any way the results could be a fluke. Kids bounce around sometimes, that’s normal. Viral suppression, lab error, atypicals that turn out to be nothing. He tries to force himself to believe that is what he’s looking at. 

But really, he knows better. 

His fingers tap restlessly against the desk. He pictures walking into that room later, smiling at her bright pink beanie, listening to her chatter about school or music or whatever had caught her attention this week. He’d have to take that light and dim it with words she doesn’t really understand yet.

And then there’s Kurt.

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenched. He’d gotten used to seeing Kurt’s guarded politeness in the clinic, to watching it thaw slightly when Blaine made some dumb joke that made Finley giggle. 

Lately, it had even thawed with him — not warmth, not yet, but something closer to trust. No smart remarks in passing at the gym. A question asked without an edge.

And now he was about to rip that away.

Would Kurt blame him? Maybe it would be easier if he did. To let Kurt’s anger fall on him instead of the universe.

You’re a damn good doctor, he reminds himself. It felt hollow.

Because no matter how good he is, he can’t stop what’s coming. 

He glances at the clock knowing his next patient is waiting. Another child. Another set of bad news. And him being late wouldn’t make the delivery any easier. 

So he pushes the results to the back of his mind for a few hours. 

Until he hears Finley’s voice, carrying calmly though the walls of the clinic. The unmistakable sound of Velcro on the blood pressure cuff paired with the opening line: “I bet I can guess the number before the machine does,” Finley declares.

June’s tone is playful. “Oh yeah? What’s your guess?”

“Eighty-two over something-teen,” Finley says. Kurt laughs. And Sebastian’s stomach drops, remembering that he’s about to ruin their entire day. 

As Sebastian knocks and enters the room Blaine, leaning against the counter, says “She’s definitely your kid, Kurt. Already turning vitals into a performance.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he is smiling too. The air in the room felt lighter than the last time they were all in a room together. The flu scare was behind them and Finley’s pink cheeks were proof she’d bounced back.

Sebastian smiles at Finley, exchanges a knowing glance with June who tucks the machine back and lingers next to the door.

“Still beating the machines, huh?”

Finley grins at him, proudly. “Every time.”

But when his gaze flicks to Kurt, the smile wavers. Just for a fraction of a second. He brushes past Kurt on the way to the desk, fingers grazing his shoulder in the barest acknowledgment, the kind of unconscious touch doctors use sometimes when navigating tight spaces. 

Sebastian sets the chart down, takes a breath, and turns back toward the table. “Okay, superstar. Everything looks good here.” He taps Finley’s beanie. “But I need to talk to your dads for a minute. Think you can June show where the prize box is? She hasn’t found it yet.” 

Finley perks up instantly. “Stickers!” she squeals, sliding off the table. Kurt hands her her backpack and watches her skip out the door, dragging June behind her.

The room feels smaller without her in it.

Sebastian doesn't sit. He stays standing, one hand braced on the counter, the other flat on the chart. “So… her labs came back this morning.”

Kurt’s posture straightens. Blaine’s arms fold tighter.

Sebastian’s tone shifts, quieter, more deliberate. “Most of it looks fine. But there are some things we need to keep an eye on. Her ANC dropped more than we’d expect at this stage. And…” He hesitates, flipping a page even though he had memorized what was written there. “The pathologist flagged a few atypical lymphoblasts on the smear.”

Kurt blinked. “Blasts?” His voice cracked on the word.

“Just a few. It doesn’t confirm anything yet,” Sebastian said quickly. His own chest tightened. He hated the way Kurt’s face had gone pale. “But it does mean we need to get a bone marrow sample as soon as possible. That will tell us whether this is just a lab anomaly… or if we’re looking at relapse.”

Silence pressed into the space between them. Blaine’s jaw flexed. Kurt stared down at the floor, his fingers looping around each other.

Sebastian let out a slow breath. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear today. We’ll get the biopsy scheduled right away, and whatever comes, we’ll figure out the next step together.”

Through the wall, Finley’s laughter carried faintly, bright and oblivious.

Kurt finally nodded, swallowing hard. “Right. Okay. Yes. We will get it scheduled on the way out. 

Blaine reaches across, resting a hand on Kurt’s knee. Kurt didn’t push away.

By the end of the day, Sebastian had delivered three different versions of the same crushing conversation. Each time, he’d pasted on the steady expression, adjusted his tone, reached for comfort where he could. But when the door closed behind him, the frustration simmered hotter. He hated this part of medicine. He hated that he couldn’t fix everything. He hated that today, everything felt like loss stacked on loss.

That night, long after the halls had gone quiet, he stared at his phone. His thumb hovered before he finally typed the only thing he could manage.

Sebastian: I’m sorry.

The reply came faster than he expected.

Kurt: Not your fault.

Sebastian stared at the screen, unsure how to read it. Was it grace? Frustration? A wall going up? Or a hand being held out?

He didn’t know. And maybe that uncertainty was the hardest part of all.

They’re able to get her scheduled for the biopsy seven days later. 

Sebastian is grateful for the team scheduled that day. Savanna is the nurse on staff, and one of the best that he works with. His favorite anesthesiologist is also on that day and she is great with kids. Sebastian knows that this combination will make everything less scary for Finley. And her Dads.

When he meets Finley in pre-op he’s the same Dr. Smythe she’s familiar with. 

Neither Kurt or Blaine can make eye contact with him. Kurt is sitting next to Finley, watching as she plays Mario Kart on the handheld switch. Blaine is pacing, nerves clear in steps. 

“Hey, Finley, I hear you’re the Mario Kart champion here. Do I get to challenge you?” 

“You’d lose.” Finley says without missing a beat. 

“Wow. Brutal.” He squats down to eye level with her. “So, you ready to talk about the plan for today?”

Sebastian’s tone remains soft, hopeful for the child in front of him. “You’re about to get the best nap of your life. While you’re sleeping, I’ll do the boring doctor stuff. Then when you wake up there’s a popsicle and a sprite waiting for you.”

Finley raises her brow “Can I pick the flavor?” 

“Only if you show the nurses your mad negotiating skills.”

Finley nods, pulling her headphones back on and jumping right back into her game.

“You’ve done this before.” He straightens looking at Kurt and Blaine, voice steady. “She’ll sleep, I’ll take the marrow sample, get it to pathology, they’ll get us the results within a few days.”

Kurt’s voice cracks, his hand rubbing circles on Finley’s back. “And if it’s… not good news?” 

Sebastian’s face falls at the sadness in Kurt’s voice. He swallows, trying to channel everything he can to return to professionalism. “Then we’ll come up with a plan and next steps right away. But today is just about getting through this step and keeping her comfortable. I’ve got this. You can trust me on that.” 

No one says anything for a beat, Sebastian’s eyes darting between Kurt, Blaine and Finley. “She’s tougher than both of you combined, you know that, right?” 

Kurt exhales through his nose, Blaine smiles faintly. Sebastian nods at them, stepping towards the door. “I’ll come find you after.” 

He walks down the short hallway to the procedure suite, his smile fades fast. He runs his hand over his jaw, trying to push himself into the person he knows best: efficient and a good performance. 

“Dr. Smythe.” Megan, the anesthesiologist, says from against the wall, arms crossed over her scrubs. “You look like you’re on death row. It’s just a marrow, not a heart transplant.” 

“Please” Sebastian draws it out, slipping on a pair of gloves, “If I wanted easy work I would be a dermatologist. Sunburn. Lotion. Bill insurance. Easy day.” 

Megan smirks, “All of this coming from the guy who is about to stab a little girl in the hip.” 

“I mean, if we’re getting technical you’re the one that’s about to knock her out so I can stab her in the hip.” He flashes a grin. 

Savanna walks in, rolling her eyes and handing him the rest of the consent paperwork. “Don’t let him fool you, Megan, He’s only insufferable like this when he’s nervous.” 

“Me? Nervous.” Sebastian forces a laugh. It’s too loud, too bright. Because he was nervous. 

He had done hundreds of these procedures. He could almost do it in his sleep. He knows every step forward and backward. Every potential complication, every aftercare instruction, it was all muscle memory at this point.

But today the weight felt different. Because it wasn’t just a seven-year-old patient potentially relapsing. He’d had those before, and they always hit hard. He’d built relationships with all of his patients

This was Finley. And if the results showed what he suspected…

He shoves the thought aside, watching as Megan sings Finley through the ABCs, and she drifts unconscious. He plasters on his trademark smirk, “Alright, ladies. Let’s make this quick and painless. At least for her. The rest of you get to suffer through my company.” 

Then he straightens, pulls his mask on and adjusts his gloves. And sets to work, letting the mechanics take control. 

The procedure moves quickly, smoothly. Which, of course it did. They also do when Sebastian does them. 

He tosses his gloves, thanks the team and writes his notes.

When he hears that Finley has been moved into the post-op area he heads out to the waiting area. 

He sees Blaine pacing against the wall first. His phone pressed to his ear and free hand waving in frantic little gestures. Even from across the room, Sebastian can hear the edge in voice. The all too familiar clipped tone of a parent who was barely holding it together. 

His eyes scan the chairs and find Kurt. His ankles are crossed, slouched, chewing on the edge of his thumb. There are tears brimming in his eyes as he stares blankly at a bright yellow wall opposite him. Sebastian slides into the seat across from him, Kurt’s eyes flick over, steady, almost begging for answers.

“He’s been like that since she went back.” Kurt says quietly after a moment, nodding his head towards Blaine. “He’s panicking. I’m glad he’s got someone who can comfort him the way Fred does…” 

Sebastian leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a whisper only Kurt can hear. “Fred, honestly? What kind of name is that? Sounds like a golden retriever or something.” 

It was an impulsive comment, cracking the professional armor he’d been wearing all morning. He watches Kurt’s mouth as it twitches, the corners pulling upward into a smile. He ducks his head down, shoulders hitching like he’s trying not to laugh. 

And then Blaine ends the call and walks to them. Instantly, both Kurt and Sebastian straighten, expression smoothing into neutrality, any trace of amusement is gone. 

“How—” Blaine starts to ask, but Sebastian cuts him off. 

“She did great. She tolerated the anesthesia well, no complications from the procedure. She’s back in recovery and they’ll come get you to see her once she wakes up.” 

He watches the relief ripple across their faces, but knows that it’s only temporary. The real relief wouldn’t come until the results came back clear. If they came back clear. 

“The samples are already on their way to pathology. Try not to think about it for the next few days.”

Kurt nods once, Blaine exhales, running a hand over his face. 

“I’ll talk to you guys in a few days. Let Finley know I’m proud of her.” Sebastian says as he stands, nodding towards each of them. “I’ve got another procedure to prep for, but if you guys need anything you can text me. Don’t bother with the on-call nurses. Just text me.” 

Chapter Text

After Finley’s biopsy they go back to Blaine’s; his apartment is nicer than Kurt’s. There’s more light, more space, and it’s easier to get to from the hospital. 

Blaine tucks Finley into bed while Kurt’s sitting on the couch, knee bouncing and hands trembling while he scrolls through family support pages. He never posts or comments. He just lurks, taking stories from others that he relates to. 

It’s a strange kind of comfort. The kind that doesn't really make him feel better but knowing that he’s not the only one going through this brings a softness to him. 

Blaine’s footsteps echo down the hallway and Kurt sets his phone on the table, facedown and just out of arms reach. 

“She asleep?” Kurt asks, looking back towards him. 

Blaine nods. “I think we should have a conversation.” 

“About?” 

“If the results come back… less than ideal.” Blaine chokes on the words. Kurt adjusts in his seat, biting down on his lip. “I think we should find a new doctor.” 

“You don’t want to see Sebastian anymore?” 

“You know we’ve been talking, re-building that friendship… this complicates that and I don’t want to risk it.” 

Kurt nods slowly, taking the words in. “What about the stability you thought she’d needed? And how great Sebastian is on paper? He does have a good reputation and getting in with someone as reputable as him might take months that we don’t have.”

Blaine scoffs. “Don’t tell me you actually like him now.” 

Kurt’s body tenses. Because he actually did. He’d been leaning on Sebastian more than he wanted to admit. But he couldn’t say that because no one knew that he had been. 

He wanted to say that Finley liked him, that she smiled when walking into her appointments with him. 

That he somehow felt steadier when Sebastian was there. 

He couldn’t say any of that out loud, especially not to Blaine. 

Besides, Blaine had a point. This could really muddy things. Kurt knows, logically, that anything that’s going to happen with Finley is not Sebastian’s fault. All he’s done is keep her on the same treatment course that Stedley would have done. He orders lab work, gives results, and makes sure her prescriptions are still up to date. 

It’s not his fault they’re here, now. But where they go from here is Sebastian’s course. And that’s a lot of pressure for a friendship. 

“Of course not.” Kurt bites back. “But maybe we see if that new doctor at the clinic can take her on, Dr. Grace I think her name was? That way she’s still got some stability.” 

Blaine leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands resting on his forehead. “Yeah.” 

They’re silent for a while. Blaine’s shoulders steady at some point, and he sinks back.

“I’ll text Sebastian in the morning and let him know. And I’ll call the clinic, too, see if they can have her there to read the results.” 

Kurt pulls his knees up to his chest, curling into the side of the couch. “How are you feeling?” 

Blaine doesn’t move as he speaks. “Fucking terrified.” 

“Same.” Kurt mumbles. “I think it’s scarier this time.” 

“Because we know what it’s like. What we’re going up against. How hard treatment is on her.” 

The memories flash through Kurt’s mind, tears forming as they do. The hair loss, the tiredness, the vomiting and the aching. 

The irritation from everyone. Finley snapping at him, Kurt snapping back and Blaine snapping at him for being too hard on her. 

It was exhausting and it took almost everything from them. The thought of what it could take from this time had been haunting Kurt for days. 

“No matter what happens,” Kurt leans forward, hand trembling as it touches Blaine’s shoulder. “Together.” 

Blaine tips his head to the side and locks eyes with Kurt. He smiles, a comforting kind of smile that Kurt hadn’t seen from him in a long time. 

They stay like that for a while, just sitting in each others company. Sharing a few memories of Finley growing up, comments she’d shared with her nurses that they still hear about at follow ups. How Burt had teased her about matching heads when he had visited the first time after she’d lost her hair, and how Jesse had shaved his own hair in solidarity. And the absolute diva fit Rachel had had when she’d seen 

“Do you remember her shriek, ‘Jesse how are you supposed to keep roles with that ugly head!’ and he just laughed and said.. ‘Baby I wear a wig at every performance, it’s literally fine.’” 

They laugh together, reminisce together, until it’s after ten and Kurt decides he needs to be in his own space that night. He says goodbye to Blaine, who promises to text him as soon as she wakes up so that Kurt can come over and make her pancakes. 

He hesitates on the stoop of Blaine’s building. Everything around Kurt feels dull, like he’s a lone bird in an empty sky. 

The musty air clips against his skin, and like a reflex he slides his headphones in. But unlike normal, he doesn’t play anything. 

Instead; he does something that surprises him. He calls Sebastian. 

“Kurt?” Sebastian asks after two rings, voice echoing. 

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” Kurt says, the words slipping without thought. “Not entirely sure why, but…”

Possibilities flood his mind: 
I don’t want you to be upset when you find out from someone else. 
I wanted to hear your reaction. 
Remember a few months ago when I told you you wouldn’t be on my daughter's case? Well, I had to tell you “I told you so”. 

None of them seemed good enough to warrant a phone call so late at night. 

“We’re going to call to transfer Finley’s care tomorrow.” The words are almost burning as they come out. Because while he agreed that it was for the best, he didn't really like it. And was worried about how they would be received. 

There’s a long silence before Sebastian speaks. Kurt wishes desperately that he could see his face working, how the words are hitting. “Wow. Are you telling me you don’t trust me, or is that just your excuse?”

“I do.” Kurt says faster than he intended. “It’s just…. Complicated. And it was Blaine’s idea, for the record. Said he values your friendship too much to muddy it with this. And I agreed.” 

“You told Blaine we’re friends?” Sebastian says, shocked. 

“No,” Kurt clarifies, his mouth twitching. “I actually pushed back a little, just to keep up appearances.”

“You secretly defended my honor.” Sebastian says with a laugh. “Kinda hot. I’m flattered” 

Kurt smiles, his cheeks warming. He shoves his hand deep in his jacket. This was normal Sebastian banter. That's all.

“Don’t be.” He replies, his tone softer now. 

There was a moment of something unsaid lingering between them. The kind that Kurt had recognized in their texts where the edges of Sebastian’s sarcasm shifted to something else, something hanging on the edge of teasing. 

“You know,” Sebastian says finally. “Most people don’t break up with their doctors over the phone.” 

Kurt holds back a laugh. “Consider it a one time courtesy call.” 

“Courtesy.” Sebastian repeats, amused. “That’s what we’re calling this?” 

“Goodnight, Sebastian.” 

“Goodnight, Hummel.” 

Kurt ends the call, licking his top lip as his eyes dance around the bustling city around him. He tells himself that it’s relief that he’s feeling. That it was settled and that Blaine could sleep easier now. 

But the flutter in his stomach told him something different. 

The next morning, Kurt wakes up early. He pours himself a coffee in his silent apartment and scrolls through his phone, trying to use the highlights of everyone’s lives to distract from the pain in his. 

It’s just after nine when Blaine texts him. 

Blaine: She’s still mostly asleep, woke up around 6 for water and went back to sleep. I called the clinic and Dr. Grace can squeeze us in at 5:15 if you can make that work? 

Kurt: Yes, I will be there. Thanks for handling it. 

He swipes to the next thread, thumbs hovering as he debates reaching out. 

He had already told Sebastian that they were going to be transferring care…. So why does he feel the need to say anything more? He can just leave it be. 

His thumbs quickly type out a message and it’s sent before he can dwell on it. 

Kurt: We’re meeting with Dr. Grace today, just FYI 
D. S.: I kind of already know. She just tracked me down on the floor. Wanted to understand why you were transferring 
D. S.: She thinks she just stole a patient from me.
D. S.: I set the record straight, just so you know. That there’s unresolved sexual tension from high school that obviously complicates things. 

Kurt nearly chokes. Of course he had said that.

Kurt: You did NOT. 
D. S.: Relax. I’m only half-joking. She laughed. 
D. S.: You guys are in good hands. 
D. S: Even if they’re not mine. 
D. S.: (I’m only a little offended you guys didn’t wait for me to get the results first). 

Kurt uses a hand to hide his smile. From who, he’s not sure. 

He hates that it seems like Sebastian is learning just how to calm his nerves. 

He tries to keep himself busy over the next few hours by drafting plans for his next guest lecture. 

Which really means he stares blankly at a blinking cursor while his mind is wandering through every worst case scenario. 

Before he realizes it, time has caught up to him and he meets Blaine at the clinic for their meeting.

Dr. Grace walks in with a professional smile and a waved greeting. She brings in the kind of presence that is warm and welcoming, the same kind of vibe Dr. Stedley had. 

When Sebastian follows a step behind her, he brings with him a feeling of steadiness that Kurt hadn’t expected. 

“Good afternoon, I’m glad that we were able to meet together today.” Dr. Grace begins, her voice kind and professional. “We just got the preliminary results back about twenty minutes ago. I just finished going over them with Dr. Smythe so I asked him to join us.” 

Kurt swallows, his skin suddenly crawling. He adjusts in the chair, uncomfortably, his fingers tightening around the arm rest. “So… does that mean we know something?” 

“Preliminary findings suggest,” Dr. Grace starts slowly, words chosen with care, “that there are more atypical lymphoblasts that we’d hope for at this stage. It doesn’t fully confirm a relapse, but it’s concerning and we need to monitor it closely and discuss the next steps.” 

Kurt’s chest tightens. Blaine reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. 

Sebastian steps forward slightly. Kurt watches curiously, the way he moves and speaks with the same type of confidence he had years ago. But now it’s overshadowed with a sense of purpose. “What Dr. Grace means is that we need to stay vigilant. We’ve seen this pattern before and while nothing is confirmed, we’re not going to sit by and wait for it to get worse.”

He glances at Kurt, a flash of something new in his expression. Kurt feels a brief flicker of warmth at the way his eyes lingered with compassion hidden under the guise of professionalism. 

Dr. Grace nods. “For now, we’re not going to make any changes to her treatment. We’ll keep her going comfortably, continue her supportive medications, and just wait for the pathology report. Once we have that, we can schedule follow ups.”

Blaine exhales, slowly. “So, just… wait? 

Sebastian offers a faint, knowing smile. “It’s awful, but the smart move.” His words are the kind that makes Kurt’s chest a little looser. 

Dr. Grace has that same sympathetic look on her face, looking between Kurt and Blaine with kind eyes. “I know this is hard. You’re doing everything right. Finley will feel that.”

As they leave the room, things feel heavier than they had when they’d entered. Kurt checks his phone. 

D. S. You’ve got this. You’re not alone. Scouts honor. 

He stares for a moment before replying. 

Kurt: I know. Thanks. 

He follows Blaine to the elevator, glancing back at the message from Sebastian before pocketing his phone. He tells himself the uncertainty in his chest is just fear for Finley. 

Because that’s all he can handle right now.

Chapter Text

Sebastian prided himself on being able to compartmentalize. Keep his personal and professional lives separate. But those walls were becoming harder and harder to hold up. 

It had been three days since Finley’s preliminary results had come in. And she kept flashing in his mind. Her bubbly personality that was equal parts Kurt and Blaine. 

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He hadn’t expected it to come through at 9:30 at night in the form of text messages. 

Blaine:  Finley had a nosebleed yesterday. I didn’t tell Kurt. 
Blaine: I didn’t want to scare him yet.
Blaine: This just showed up today. Tell me we’re wrong. Tell me it’s not what I think it is. 

Attached is a picture of a deep, ugly bruise on Finley’s back. 

Sebastian sits up straighter, his thumb hovering over the screen. His stomach drops because he knows. The bruise pattern and nose bleed. The preliminary results. They all line up. 

He wants to lie, to tell him that it’ll be okay. But his medical brain won’t let him. 

Sebastian: Without results we can’t say for sure. But… I get why you’re worried. 
Blaine: Kurt can’t do this again. 
Blaine: He already blames himself for everything she went through the first time. 
Blaine: He’ll break, Sebastian. He doesn’t show it, but I know him. He’s my best friend.

Sebastian has to stop looking at the rapid-fire messages Blaine is sending. Because even though he is a doctor, he’s feeling Blaine’s fears, too. He’s also worried for Kurt. 

Sebastian: You’re stronger than you think. So is he. 

It’s a long while before Blaine replies. And when he does, it’s short and defeated. 

Blaine: You’re right. Thanks.

Sebastian stares at the thread long after Blaine’s gone silent. The phone feels heavy in his hand. He tells himself that it’s part of the job, but it’s not. Blaine’s words won’t leave him. He’s worried that he’s right and that this will break Kurt. And he’s worried about himself, and what it means that he cares this much. 

A few days later, Sebastian sits in his office, scrolling through Finley’s chart again even though he shouldn’t. Even though he knows what it means already. 

He drums his fingers against the desk, leg bouncing. 

It’s not official until Grace calls. It’s her case. Her patient. Her conversation. 

He keeps repeating it to himself, trying to remind himself not to overstep. To let things unfold the way they're supposed to.

Dr. Grace knocks on his door frame, a folder in her hands. When he looks up, she doesn’t wait.

“I’m going to call Hummel and Anderson with the results. I wanted to let you know.” 

Sebastian sighs. “How bad?”

Grace’s composure is professional yet gentle. “It seems pretty clear. We’ll need a confirmation round, but, yeah, it’s a relapse.” She gives him a look, like she knows that this case is something different. “You’ve been close with them, I wanted to give you a heads-up in case they reach out.” 

She leaves, and Sebastian wants to follow her. To be there when she gives them the news. 

Instead, he sits there. Staring at his phone. Blaine’s frantic texts are still pinned at the top of his conversations. 

And then, there’s Kurt… Kurt and his late night "courtesy calls", his banter, the teasing that lingers in his head for hours. 

His thumb hovers over the text thread. But then drops. 

If he reaches out first, it crosses a line. Too personal, too much. 

If he waits, maybe Kurt wouldn’t reach out at all.  And Sebastian would just be the doctor who stepped aside. 

And that thought hurts in a way he can’t describe.

He leans back in his chair, presses his palms to his eyes. His chest feels tight. How badly he wants to say something, to be the one Kurt leans on when the call comes. 

He doesn’t text. He doesn’t call.

He just sets his phone down on the desk like it’s dangerous and waits. 

He pours himself into other patients. Prepares himself for the 14 year old coming in, for the 10 year old who he’s meeting in the chemo unit for karaoke, and tries to remind himself that right now there are other families who need his attention. 

The next evening, Sebastian still hasn’t heard from either Kurt or Blaine since they got the news of Finley’s relapse. 

He’s tossing his bag over his shoulder when his phone starts ringing. 

Blaine Anderson 

He debates ignoring it and letting it go to voicemail. Because he wasn’t Finley’s doctor anymore, and he didn’t know if he could really handle the late night panics that Blaine was prone to. He wanted to be there, to be a supportive friend, but it was hard and unclear how to even do that now. 

He answers it anyway, walking through the clinic doors.

“Anderson. Don't tell me you’re a man who is about to ruin my evening.”
 
Blaine’s voice is quiet, rushed. “It’s Kurt.” 

Sebastian stops mid step. “What about him?” 

“He’s not answering his phone. He always answers, Sebastian. Especially if it’s me, because… well you know. I’ve called him four times today, left more messages than I care to admit. Rachel tried, too. Nothing.” 

Sebastian steps onto the sidewalk, wind hitting him quick and hard. “He could just be unplugging. People do that.” 

“Not Kurt. Not when Finley’s results just came in, he wouldn’t ignore Rachel, either.” 

Sebastian tucks his hand deep in his coat pocket. He knew what was happening. The post-result silence. It was something he’d seen before in parents. The kind of “I can’t get myself to answer because it makes it real” silence. 

Blaine keeps going. “I don’t want to call his dad. Or Carole. Not unless I know it’s really something. I just… I don’t know what to do. He was supposed to pick Finley up tonight, and I have a show in a half hour that I’m obviously not going to make… which is… honestly irrelevant because of everything. I don’t know why I called.”

Sebastian is supposed to be on his way to the bar on his block, drinking and forcing himself to flirt with guys. Trying to put up walls and stop pining for someone who he definitely shouldn’t be pining for. 

Instead, he says. “Text me his address. I’ll go over.” 

He hears the deep exhale from Blaine on the other end. “Really?” 

“Yeah, I’ll sweet talk the doorman if I have to. Put those skills I was planning to use tonight to good use.” 

“Thank you. Seriously, Sebastian, thank you.” 

And that’s how Sebastian finds himself knocking on Kurt Hummel’s door after flashing a cocky grin and playing the doctor to Kurt’s sick kid card to the doorman. 

He knocks on the door. No answer. 

He tries again with more force.  “Hummel, open the door.”

Silence. 

One more knock. Gentler this time. “Kurt, please.” Something cracks in his voice at that. His hands trembling, debating the next steps, how he could get inside, needing to get eyes on him. 

He hears the lock click, and the door opens slowly. 

Kurt looks like Sebastian had never seen him. Hair messed, eyes bloodshot. He’s wearing baggy sweat pants and a stretched out tank top instead of the carefully layered designer clothes he prides himself on.

“You’ve really freaked your ex-husband out, you know.” Sebastian says after a beat. 

Kurt’s brow raises. “I didn’t realize house calls to the home of ex-patients were included in the standard of care.” 

“They are when you disappear off the face of the earth after finding out your daughter’s cancer is back.” Sebastian exhales loudly. “Especially because you missed picking her up, which I gather is out of character for you."

Kurt’s expression shifts. The panic setting in his wide eyes, the way his grip tightens on the door he’s still holding. And then he turns swiftly, door ajar, leaving Sebastian in the doorway. 

Sebastian hesitates. And then follows. 

Kurt is standing at the counter now, hands shaking as he scrolls through his phone. “Blaine’s supposed to be at the theater like… now.” Kurt mumbles.

“Don’t worry about that.” Sebastian whispers as he steps to his side. 

“There’s like a thousand calls and texts from him and Rachel.” 

Sebastian nods solemnly.

“Damnit.” Kurt mutters, pushing the phone to the other side of the counter.

Kurt’s shoulders rise and fall, hands covering his face. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s the familiar act of steadying himself in the middle of chaos. 

“Why didn’t Blaine come over himself?” Kurt asks after a while. 

The question startles Sebastian and sets forward a wave of new questions. 

Why hadn’t Blaine come over himself? Why did he call Sebastian in a panic? Not that Sebastian wants to complain, necessarily, because once he’d heard that Kurt shut down he couldn’t not find him. As if being able to talk to Kurt was the only way he’d be able to breathe freely after everything. 

But it was odd that Blaine, who says Kurt is his best friend, didn’t come investigate himself. Or ask Rachel to. Or call the building super or anyone else who may have been better suited for a welfare check. 

“I’m beginning to think Blaine’s brain doesn’t really work that well under stress.” Is the only answer Sebastian can come up with. 

Kurt snorts. “Yeah, that’s true. He almost short-circuts when he panics.” 

“That’s… not great.” 

Kurt crosses his arms against his chest, leans against the cabinet, something breathy in his tone. “Yeah, well, I can’t really talk because I just shut down for the last 24 hours, so.” 

“After almost two years of being the stable one. Of being the default parent. That’s a long time to be handling this without support.” Sebastian shoots back. 

“I have support.” 

“Eh, it seems like you have half a support system. People who want to be there but don’t know how to. They think that everything is just easier once your daughter went into remission and stopped showing up the same way.” 

Sebastian pauses, looking to Kurt for something, some kind of reaction. He doesn’t get it. Kurt continues to avoid eye contact, staring at the grain of the counter like it might change, arms still crossed tightly across his chest. 

So Sebastian keeps going. 

“They’re not noticing the little things that you do, appointments and schooling and medications and everything else a parent does on top of the stress of keeping her healthy. It’s the small weights that pile up.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going into psychiatry.” Kurt says. He glances over to Sebastian, briefly. As if looking at him for too long was impossible. 

“I told you once that you can’t be there to keep your daughter healthy if you kill yourself in the process. And that stands. Especially now.” 

Kurt hums in reply. 

Somehow they find themselves sitting in Kurt’s living room. 

Sebastian is opposite Kurt on the couch leaning forward slightly. As if he won’t allow himself to get too comfortable. Because being comfortable in Kurt’s space is definitely crossing a boundary he refuses to cross. 

“Yesterday was the anniversary of my moms death.” Kurt mumbles, legs are tucked against his chest, leaning into the arm rest of his couch. His finger picking at broken cuticles, his gaze fixed on it as if it were the most interesting thing. 

“Oh.” Sebastian says. He isn’t sure how to respond. What is an appropriate response to the statement? His pull is to reach out, to take his hand as if it would somehow help. 

Sebastian observes every aspect of Kurt. This is a side of him that Sebastian assumes many don’t see: the small, broken, falling apart but still trying to hold it together. He wonders if he gets to see it because he happened to be there or if there was something more to it. 

“I think getting the call from Dr. Grace yesterday was just a big slap in the face.” Kurt laughs uncomfortably. 

Sebastian continues to watch him, tipping his head slightly “Shit, Kurt, I’m so sorry. That’s awful timing.” 

Kurt breathes deep. He stops picking at his fingers and stares at the ceiling. “It’s hard to be optimistic when you’ve been though what I’ve gone through. Lost people like I have.” 

Sebastian’s brain races. He thinks back to what he knows about Kurt: everything he’s learned has really been in passing, through the grapevine of show choir gossip. Had he even known before this moment that his mom had died? He knew his dad was remarried, but that didn’t really mean anything… 

He feels the air leave his lungs. Of course. How had it taken him so long to put the pieces together?

He thinks about Finn Hudson, who he had forgotten was Kurt’s stepbrother. He thinks about hearing about his untimely death. And for the first time, realizes why Finley’s name was important to Kurt.

Sebastian’s heart is in his stomach. He’d been a cause of some of that pain and even now 14 years later has been completely oblivious to all of it. 

“I forget how much you’ve dealt with.” Sebastian finally brings himself to say. 

“It’s not your job to remember.” Kurt’s words land heavy. 

Kurt carries this weight like a backpack full of bricks and he does it all alone. Everyday. He sacrifices himself time and time again for the people he loves.

“Whose job is it, then?” The words come out before Sebastian really thinks about what he’s saying, sharply and too honest.

Kurt finally looks at him, his eyes glassy and vulnerable. There’s a pause. A twitch of a smile. “Raven,” he says. 

Sebastian is taken aback, eyes wide. “Who?”

Kurt laughs. Truly laughs. “My therapist. Should probably call her.”

“Yeah, probably.” Sebastian chuckles. “Then maybe I won’t have to show up at your doorstep instead of going drinking.” 

“A true sacrifice. Whatever will those New York bars do without your presence.” 

Sebastian glares. He tells himself it’s playful deflection. But there’s something in the way that Kurt’s eyes linger on his that’s making Sebastian realize that he’s getting in deeper than he planned. 

Chapter Text

The amount of times Kurt started and restarted the message to his therapist was comical at this point. 

The first draft: Hello, Raven. Kurt Hummel here. It’s been a few months and I could use an appointment ASAP, please let me know your availability 

Second: Hi, things aren’t great. Any appointments available like… yesterday? 

Third: here for my bi-annual therapy appointment!!

He ultimately lands on: 

Good morning, Raven. I know it’s been a few months and I cancelled my last appointment, but would you happen to have any availability soon? Life’s been less than kind and I could really benefit from regular sessions again. 

The reply comes back two minutes later. The pit in his stomach starts swirling.

Raven (therapist): Hi Kurt! I’m glad you’re reaching out. I had a cancellation and can do a telehealth at 4 today. I also have my 9am open tomorrow and one Monday in office. Let me know what works best and we can talk then about getting you back on recurring. 

Kurt glances at the time on the oven. 10:42. That meant he would have a little more than five hours to prepare. He immediately replies, taking the opening for the afternoon and his mind starts reeling, making a mental list. 

First: text Blaine and figure out care for Finley. 
Second: Write down everything he wants to say (because he will space on the spot)
Third: Finish the hospital prep checklist. 
Fourth: Don’t chicken out. Don’t cancel. Don’t find a reason to disappear like a turtle again. 

And then he sets to work. 

Blaine will handle getting someone to watch Finley — and worst case she sits in his dressing room with her iPad.

He reads over the checklist for the upcoming admittance a thousand times. He makes sure everything is in place, packing and repacking and making sure his hands touch everything at least twice. 

He texts his dad, telling him he’s going back to therapy. Just to tell someone. 

He makes a list of the top three things he wants to bring up. 

And he tries to keep busy in the calm of the apartment to quiet the jitter under his skin. 

Every dish is washed. Every article of clothing folded. And the floor has been mopped. Twice.  

The ten minutes leading into Kurt’s therapy session drag on more than the rest of the morning combined. He adjusts his laptop camera five different times, opens and then closes the blinds trying to find the best lighting. As if that would convince Raven that he wasn’t completely crazy. 

He diffuses lavender oils, the scent supposed to be calming. But he feels anything but calm. His stomach is in knots. He fidgets with the hem of his sweater, the beating of his heart so heavy that it’s drowning out the sound of his diffuser.

When the call connects, Raven's bright eyes meet with his through the camera. He immediately feels the bouncing on his foot settle just slightly. Enough that the stool isn’t rattling anymore and all he can hear is the sound of Raven and the soft hum of the oil diffuser. 

He tells Raven how it’s been almost two years of this. Two years of being her care taker. Of his identity being “dad to a daughter fighting cancer”. That it’s taken so much of him that he can’t even picture what his life was before this. That he can’t see himself going back to a life of auditions and costume designs and concerts. He doesn’t remember what it feels like to wake up without bracing himself for bad news. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath and it feels like work. Like his lungs are full of sandbags he’s hauling out with each breath. 

He talks about the scenarios running through his mind. If Finley doesn't make it, if this relapse isn’t just another hurdle to overcome but the end of the race, he doesn’t know what’s left of him. There is nothing left of Kurt outside of her. 

And if she does make it, what happens then? If she continues to fight to grow and thrive and live a normal life like she deserves? Does he just go back to who he was? Step back into a life that no longer fits? 

Kurt’s throat burns as he blinks quickly, trying to force the threatening sting away. It doesn’t work. 

Tears stream slowly as he tells Raven how selfish it feels to worry about who he is. How he wants to be able to listen to the advice he was given: he can’t take care of her if he’s killing himself in the process. But what did that even mean now?

He doesn’t know how to be anyone but her dad anymore. 

The thought sits heavy in his mind as the session ends. 

He closes the laptop with a soft click. Shuts off the oil diffuser. And takes three minutes to breathe. 

Each breath that passes lifts a weight off his shoulders. At least for now. 

He texts Blaine that he’s on his way to pickup Finley. Then his dad that he finished his session and somehow feels both worse and better at the same time. 

They’re practical. Safe. Predictable. 

Yet there’s still an unidentifiable ache in his stomach. 

Practical wasn’t enough. 

Practical was someone who would nod solemnly, but still only see him as a care taker. 

Practical wasn’t someone who would cut through the ache with sharpness and familiarity. 

Which is how he ends up on the message thread with Sebastian. 

Kurt: I survived therapy. Barely. 
D. S.: Was it a “breakthrough” session or more like a “paid to cry in front of you”?
Kurt: Somewhere in between. Probably closer to the second. 
D. S: Classic. At least you’re self aware. That’s half the battle. 

Kurt smiles despite himself. He really hates that Sebastian is able to lace a softness inside a jab. 

Kurt: Pretty sure I lost the other half. 
D. S.: That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I suppose I could help you re-challenge it?
D. S.: Two heads are better than one, after all. Especially when one of them is mine. 
Kurt: Wow. 

Between Raven’s soft tone and Sebastian’s biting humor, Kurt finds himself standing a little straighter, the aches a little lighter, when he sees Finley outside of Blaine’s theater. She’s skipping down the sidewalk, beaming as she runs scales with Rachel at the top of her lungs. 

Kurt stops in his tracks and watches. Finley seems so care free despite everything she’s fighting. He knows that this is drawing to a close. That they’re only two days away from her losing herself in another round of treatment. 

The weight of everything isn’t gone, but for today it feels manageable. He’s able to take in her movements, grinning ear to ear, when she turns and sees him watching. 
She’s still here. Still laughing. And Kurt isn’t sure how many more times he’ll get to hear her laugh like this.

“Dad!” She squeals, bolting towards him. Rachel laughs, loud and genuine, as Finley slams into Kurt’s legs, causing him to stumble. 

He wraps his arms around Finley, scooping her up and embracing her tightly against his chest. “I thought you’d be waiting in Daddy’s dressing room.” 

“By the time I had seen Blaine’s message asking if I could watch her for an hour he was already here, so I just came to sit with her.” Rachel says. Her hands are tucked deep in her coat pocket. 

“Well, thank you.” Kurt sets Finley down, lacing his hand through hers. “I really appreciate it.”

“Please.” Rachel says, waving dismissively. “You haven’t needed an emergency baby sitting job in years. I’m happy to do it.” She squats down in front of Finley, hand on her shoulder. “We’re bonded.” 

After another round of thanks and a quick hug goodbye, Kurt guides Finley home, checking his phone while they walk. 

D. S.: You’re welcome. 
Kurt: So modest. 
D. S.: For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. For taking the step. And also letting me be the person you texted.

Kurt looks at the words longer than he means to. It shouldn’t matter. Sebastian shouldn’t matter. But something in his stomach flips as he reads them anyway. 

That night he lays on the couch, Finley curled next to him as they idly watch a movie. He scrolls social media, seeing Blaine’s latest post, a calendar showing what days he’s going to be on stage and the days it’s his understudy. 

He briefly looks at the comments, but not for long. Fans theorize what happened and why he’s leaving early. They mostly think he’s filming a movie and someone even mentions him going on tour with his boyfriends band. 

Kurt locks his phone, the real reminder of why Blaine is shifting his schedule heavier than he can handle in that moment. 

Tomorrow is their last normal day. Tomorrow they’ll be a family out in the real world one last time. Before they pack up and move to the hospital for what feels like an indefinite amount of time. 

Tomorrow comes and goes too quickly. Kurt tries to savor every moment. He doesn’t look at his phone. He doesn’t think about the laundry, or responsibilities, or anything other than taking in every glow that Finley radiates that day.

Breakfast consists of pancakes with astronomical amounts of syrup and whipped cream. 

He watches her drench them in syrup repeatedly, traced with uncontained laughter that he memorizes every sound of, as if he could bottle it up and replay it when the hospital walls feel too small. Blaine eventually has to whip the bottle away from her, “No child should wield this much sugar power.” He says with a laugh when Finley starts protesting. 

Finley picks her favorite blankets and slippers to pack as if she were going on an extended sleepover, claiming  “I have to have options, Dad!” Kurt beams with pride, tucking the sass away in the corner of his mind to remind himself just who he is raising. A little girl who takes after him, needing to have options for every day, even when she’s hospitalized. 

There’s what feels like hundreds of calls from nurses, coordinators, social workers. All discussing logistics of what they’ll be walking into. 

They watch her favorite movie in the living room, perform a full sing-along production of Moana with Finley as the star and play Candy Land five times. Blaine somehow manages to lose every game and is convinced the game is rigged. His dramatics make Finley smile in a way that takes up her entire face. Kurt gives her a secret high-five when Blaine isn’t looking. 

That night, after Finley is tucked in her bed at Blaine’s apartment, they sit at his kitchen table. Everything feels unreal. As if they’re living in a dream, walking through someone else’s life. 

“Okay,” Blaine flips through the stack of papers. “Insurance, forms, protocols…” Kurt can see his brow furrowed, the way he’s pretending to play it cool but fighting with himself. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Kurt’s voice is scratchy from trying to keep the sobs buried in favor of being present for Finley. 

Blaine glances over, his brows raised slightly and eyes curious. 

“None of that matters right now. They have everything on file, they just want us to bring it to make our lives harder.” Kurt supplies, crossing his arms.

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“I don’t care if it is. She’s going to be there for at least a month. I’m not stressing about paperwork tonight when we have weeks to make sure everything is in order before they bill insurance.” Kurt rests his chin on his palm. “Tonight I just want to exist without stress. For one last night.” 

Blaine doesn’t argue. He just slips into the seat next to Kurt. “She’s going to be okay.” The waver in his voice shows that he’s saying it to himself just as much as he is trying to comfort Kurt.

He reaches a hand over and puts it on top of Blaine’s trembling hand. They don’t say anything more, but the way they both have tears welling in their eyes when they share a glance shows them that they both need the reassurance. 

Neither of them sleep that night. Blaine texts with Fred, does his dishes, keeps insisting that Kurt should go lay down and get some sleep. 

But instead, Kurt stares at the relapse protocol. A binder filled with plans that he doesn’t want to understand. 

His phone lights up. It’s one in the morning and he only knows one person who would be awake at this hour. He doesn’t hesitate to grab his phone. 

D. S.: Did you make sure to include your sass on your packing list? It’s essential. 

He doesn’t reply. But he does smile for the first time that night. The pit in his stomach is softer now, less like a sinkhole waiting to swallow him and more like a crack in the sidewalk he can step over with careful footing. He lets the smile linger on his lips a moment longer as he re-reads the message one last time. 

Chapter Text

Sebastian purposefully asked his scheduler to pack his day as full as they possibly could on the day of Finley’s admission.  

He knows Blaine wants them to be friends, and that he’s somewhat of a friend with Kurt. 

But do friends visit their daughter in the hospital? Do doctors linger on a case they were pulled off of?

So he does the only logical thing he can do: keeps himself busy. 

The day drags by in a haze of every day monotony. Every time he sits at the computer, typing idly, his mind drifts. To Finley. To Kurt. 

He spends more time on the floor than normal, visiting with patients for longer and lingering with nurses. The clock ticks on, each minute a reminder of the family only steps away from him that are depending on the carefully crafted care team and he isn’t sure he’s allowed to feel like one of them anymore. 

He has a granola bar for lunch on the go, dinner consists of old coffee and half a banana. He smiles at nurses, makes small talk, and every time he sees the door to Finley’s room, he ignores the pull in his chest to knock. To check in with them. To make sure she’s settling in and that the nurses are giving her enough stickers and colored pencils. 

By the time he leaves the hospital, the sun has set completely and the lights over the sidewalk reflecting in the puddles. 

When he gets back to his apartment, it’s almost too quiet. He lays on the couch, phone in hand, but he doesn’t look at it. He stares emptily at the marks on his ceiling. Finley is probably tucked cozily in her plush blankets, Blaine fast asleep on a hospital chair. Kurt… Kurt is out there somewhere, and Sebastian is worried. Worried for what his mind is doing, worried for the outcomes of this relapse. 

Great. He thinks. This is your life now, worrying about a Broadway star while surviving on coffee and old granola bars. 

A few days go by and Sebastian has continued to avoid checking in with Kurt and Finley. 

But Nick decided that weekly “community runs” are going to be a thing, and also insisted that they include Blaine, because it would be rude not to, obviously. 

“So,” Nick says as they all circle together in the park,  “Any new updates on your midnight texts with Kurt-y boy?” 

Sebastian stills mid-stretch. And then quickly recovers. He shakes his head, muttering. “Still nothing to write home about.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Emma smack the back of Nick’s head.

“You text Kurt at midnight?” Blaine asks after a beat, Sebastian can see it in the way he’s trying to not stare that the revelation is a shock to Blaine. 

He tries to play it cool. 

“They’re midnight besties.” Nick supplies with a childish grin.

“First of all, never say that again. Secondly, occasionally we will talk at night. It’s not a nightly thing or anything.” Which is… mostly true. As much as it pains him to keep his distance. 

Blaine’s eyes widen. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.” 

“I didn’t realize that either of us had to report back to you.” Sebastian replies, almost too short and cold. 

“You don’t.” Blaine concedes, and Sebastian thinks he drops it because he doesn’t say anything. 

“But wait,” Blaine says halfway through their jog. “Kurt hates you?” 

Sebastian laughs in reply, because he’s not sure how Kurt feels about him but hate feels like too strong of a word. 

He doesn’t think his next words through before he says them.  “Be completely honest with yourself. When was the last time you saw Kurt smile, or laugh, or talk about something that interested him? When was the last time he was himself with you?”

Blaine blinks. “Huh.”

“That’s exactly why he texts me at midnight, even if he hates me. Because we talk about nothing of real significance. He can talk about Project Runway or complain about some stupid thing you or Rachel said and I just treat him like a human being and not just Finley’s caretaker.” 

“How do you know so much about what Kurt wants?” 

For reasons Sebastian can’t quite name, the tone that Blaine questions him ruffles his feathers. It’s as if Blaine is oblivious yet somehow thinks he can come at Sebastian with this weirdly possessive attitude. As if he has any real interest in Kurt’s well being. 

“It’s not fucking rocket science, Anderson. I deal with burnt out parents on the daily. They are all exhausted and just want to be seen as something other than a caretaker.”

Blaine’s brow furrows, “Why wouldn’t he have said anything?” 

“Why didn’t you notice?” Sebastian shoots back before he can stop himself. The words are heavier than he intended, but he lets them hang there as he keeps jogging, the feel of the asphalt underneath his sneakers pushing the tension building in his limbs down. 

“We see it a lot even in healthy kids.” Emma chimes in, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. “Parenting is a lot of work, and it’s almost always one parent who carries the bulk of it. It’s not for lack of trying from the other parent, but it just… happens. And it’s hard to explain or communicate.” 

“Damn.” Nick says with a chuckle. “Here I was hoping we could all roast Sebastian on his secret love for trashy reality TV shows but instead it’s turning into lecturing Blaine about needing to step up his game.” 

The rest of their jog goes off without a hitch. Sebastian listens to Nick and Emma tease each other, occasionally tossing in remarks and quips to keep up normal appearances. 

But his mind keeps wandering. To the conversation he hadn’t meant to have. To how heavy and complicated everything felt lately. 

By the time he’s back to his apartment and showered, his phone buzzes. And his heartrate quickens when he reads the notification. 

Kurt: Did you talk to Blaine?
Sebastian: I occasionally will speak with Blaine, yes. 
Kurt: About me. 
Sebastian: That may have been a point that came up. 

Kurt doesn’t reply for a while, and Sebastian has a procedure to prepare for, so he turns off his phone. The curiosity of why Kurt brings it up is gnawing at him for hours before he can finally check his messages again. 

Kurt: I don’t need you talking to my ex-husband about me. 

Sebastian hadn’t meant to tell Blaine about everything going on, about the observations he’s made of Kurt.

But Nick couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and Sebastian didn’t want Blaine jumping to unnecessary conclusions.

Sebastian: In my defense, it was Nick’s fault. 
Sebastian: But also, understood.  I’m sorry if I overstepped. I was defending myself before he inevitably accused me of ulterior motives and it spiraled.
Kurt: Do you have ulterior motives?

Sebastian pauses. Does he? Not the kind he assumed Blaine would insinuate, necessarily, but he does find himself drawn to Kurt in ways he can’t explain. 

Sebastian: Oh, Hummel, it’s like you don’t know me at all. 
Sebastian: Of course I do. 

Sebastian doesn't hear from Kurt again for three days. All three days, he wants to say something but doesn’t.

He gives pleasantries when passing him in the hallway, small talk with Blaine, but it’s all just… polite. It’s not the same as things had been before, and it’s tearing his insides apart because he didn’t do anything wrong, the situation is just complicated and he let himself get tied up into it too much. 

When his phone lights up with a new message, he almost drops it as he reads. 

Kurt: It has been brought to my attention that I may act irrationally even when someone has the best intentions. 
Kurt: Consider this my formal apology for getting upset with you talking to Blaine. 
Sebastian: You? Irrational? Color me shocked. 
Kurt: I’m never apologizing to you again. 
Sebastian: You know, somehow I don’t think that’s going to be true. 
Kurt: You’re impossible 
Sebastian: The word you’re looking for is irresistible. Don’t act like you don’t know it. 
Kurt: That’s exactly why I’m keeping my guard up. 
Sebastian: Guard? Against me? You were practically handing me a crown three messages ago. 
Kurt: That was a trap. 
Sebastian: Consider me delighted to have fallen into it. 
Kurt: This is infuriating. 
Sebastian: That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me all week. 

The next day, Sebastian sees Kurt in the hospital cafeteria next to the coffee counter. 

His impulses get the better of him, and he slides up next to him. 

“Let me buy you your cup of terrible coffee.” Sebastian drawls, leaning against the counter like it was a bar. 

Kurt raises a brow over the rim of his cup, sipping slowly. “Why would I subject myself to two bad decisions at once?” 

“Because,” Sebastian smirks. “One comes with cream and sugar, the other comes with my charm.” 

Kurt exhales through his nose, something between a sigh and the laugh he refuses to give him. He walks towards the register, Sebastian trailing after. 

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” 

“Not when it comes to medicine,” Sebastian says, low and easy, “Or you.” 

Kurt opens his mouth, but shuts it quickly as Sebastian hands the cashier a few bills. 

“You actually paid.” Kurt says, suspiciousness in his tone. 

“Of course I did.” 

Sebastian looks at him for a moment, studying the thing his eyes are doing. They're still guarded, but he catches them fading as his lips twitch slightly “You are…” Kurt inhales, shaking his head “infuriating.” 

“So you’ve said.” Sebastian backs away with a smirk, raising his cup in a mock toast. 

And as he turns towards his office at the clinic, his smirk fades into something more real. For the first time in the past few days, he feels a little more relaxed.

Chapter Text

Two days after Finley was admitted, Kurt got a call from his agent asking if there was any chance he would be willing to speak and perform at a childhood cancer benefit that would be taking place a few weeks later. 

The thought of doing it scared him. So, he asked Raven about it. She encouraged him to do it as a way of acknowledging the situation instead of running from it. 

It hadn’t felt real until he finds himself dressed in a fancy suit preparing to perform in front of people and cameras for the first time in almost two years. 

As he rehearses his speech to himself, the conversation with Blaine about how much he should say flicks to the front of his mind. 

“I think I’m ready to stop hiding and denying and hoping this will pass as a blip on our radar. That’s just not really working for me anymore.” He had said. 

“I get that, and I think you should do it.” Blaine said. “I just want to be careful about how much we share. I don’t want people picking apart everything about our daughter.” 

“Me either. Finley’s not public. At all. That will never change.”

From the wings of the stage, Kurt’s eyes scan the room. Faces from all different walks of life are dressed up, mingling and smiling. And they’re all gathered together to honor the brave children and families going through hell. 

And then he sees him. Standing just left of the stage smiling and laughing with another doctor, dressed in all black and looking incredibly dapper, is none other than Sebastian Smythe. 

Kurt’s nerves multiply. He shakes his hands, tension building in his wrists. The final notes of the last song the DJ chose before he goes on stage rings out. 

It’s now or never. Kurt closes his eyes. Exhales through vibrating lips. And then his gaze flickers over to Sebastian, who has his signature cocky smirk. He’s leaning against the table, ankles crossed, the soft lights twinkling in his eyes.

Kurt lingers on him a beat too long. 

And then with a deep breath he starts speaking. Just like any lines in any play he’d done, it all comes out perfectly rehearsed. 

“My daughter's oncologist said something to me once that has stayed in my heart: Cancer doesn’t just affect the patient. It weaves it’s way through the entire family and changes everyone’s lives.”

Inhale. Exhale. Don’t pause too long. Ready: continue. 

“When a child is diagnosed, it’s not just their fight. It’s the parents. The siblings. The grandparents. Friends, teachers. Every person who loves that child is suddenly thrown into a battle they never asked for. A battle that they would give anything not to fight. But they fight anyway.”

Eyes scan, trying to gauge the reception. But he doesn’t falter. He keeps going, voice strong, passion lacing every word. 

“What strikes me most is how unfair it all is. Families who are already giving everything of themselves. All of their time, energy, hope, they are often forced to choose between a roof over their heads and life saving care. Choosing between paying bills and paying for medicine. That is not a choice anyone should ever have to make.”

“We’re here tonight because hope isn’t passive. It takes action. It takes communities like this one standing together and deciding that no family should feel alone in the fight of their lives.”

“Tonight we honor the battles being fought, but we also aim to shift the odds. With every donation, every story shared and every song sung, we’re making it a little more possible for another child to dance at their prom, to walk across the graduation stage. To chase a dream.”

“So please: celebrate, connect, and give generously. And now, if you’ll bear with me, I’d like to share a song that reminds me of what I want for every child, every family, every fighter in this room. A song about hope, courage and daring to dream.”

The soft opening notes of “I Hope You Dance” plays, and Kurt sings like he hasn’t sung in years. With love, passion, and hope for a brighter future. 

Sebastian isn’t a big fan of benefits. He understands their importance, of course, but for him they’re more show than action. And he prefers to be on the front lines. 

Yet somehow he finds himself standing at a table with another pediatric oncologist he knows from residency, making small talk with a pharmacist and only half listening. 

He stops mid-sentence when he hears Kurt’s name announced. 

He looks to the stage to see Kurt, his navy blue suit highlighting his eyes and hugging his body in all the right ways. 

His lips curl into a familiar grin as Kurt’s eyes meet his briefly. 

Of course, Sebastian thinks. He has to look good when I least expect it. 

But his smile falters slightly when he hears Kurt’s speech. He feels chills running down his neck. These are his words. Words said to calm a panicked parent in the hospital. But now they’re being heard by everyone in a hotel ballroom, and the way Kurt’s voice laces around them make them land heavy in his chest. 

His pulse is quick, pounding insistently as he takes in every breath that Kurt sings. He tries to convince himself this is just pride. Support from a physician who has watched a family go through hell and pick themselves back up while still fighting. 

Still, there’s a lump in his throat, tears bordering his eyes. He takes a sip of his drink to try and distract himself from the unfamiliar depth of emotion that he’s feeling. 

He’s cried before. It’s not foreign to him. He cries with families and coworkers and he sometimes even cries at movies. 

But there’s something about the way that Kurt is singing, something about the way that he spoke, that’s awakening a completely new feeling in Sebastian. 

He’s just tired. That’s all. That’s why his grip tightens on his glass. Exhausted from endless nights of sitting in the ED, answering calls from patients… and talking to Kurt. 

It’s a good speech. He tells himself. Anyone would be moved. 

But then he notices the way Kurt’s voice falters, and then strengthens, and he sees the passion in his eyes for the words he’s saying. 

He bites down on his lip, because maybe that would ease the sparks coursing his veins.

It doesn’t.

This is not good. I am screwed.

And before he processes anything, he’s finishing his drink, excusing himself from the table, and heading for the wings of the stage. 

As he walks off stage to the sound of generous applause, Kurt’s entire body is trembling with adrenaline. His palms clammy and his heart pounding. There’s a rush of something familiar from the performance tainted with the anxiety of just telling everyone that his 7-year-old daughter has an oncologist. 

“Well,” he hears Sebastian say, amused. His hands are tucked in his pockets as he lurks in the shadows. “I came here tonight expecting nothing but free booze and bad covers, but apparently you’re out here trying to ruin my reputation as a heartless bastard.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes, smiling slyly. “Don’t worry. No one will ever believe you cried.” 

“Good.” Sebastian says, smirking. “Because I didn’t. The lights were just too bright. It definitely wasn’t your speech.” 

Then a pause. Sebastian’s tone shifts, his smile soft and genuine. “You were good, Hummel. Like really good.” 

Something in Kurt stutters. The adrenaline from the performance is still at a peak, and then Sebastian’s compliment lands like an electric current, strong and confusing. 

He doesn’t just feel acknowledged—he feels seen and understood. And that was far more dangerous.

“Thank you.” Kurt says, finally, voice softer. 

“Careful,” Sebastian replies with a grin. “You keep thanking me and people will start to think we like each other.”

“Do we?” Kurt says before he can stop himself. 

“Oof.” Sebastian chortles,”Don’t make me answer that here, people will talk.” 

Kurt lets out an amused huff, something in his shoulders loosening as they make their way back to the crowd. Kurt allows himself one drink. Sebastian introduces him to the doctor he was talking to before the show. 

As the next band starts playing their set, the notes to “Build Me Up Buttercup” causes Sebastian to groan. “I was dating this guy in med school who was obsessed with this freaking song, it makes me want to claw my ears off.”

“You dated?” Kurt says, brow raised. The thought of Sebastian, notorious for sleeping around and avoiding feelings, having a real relationship shocked him in ways he couldn’t allow himself to understand right now. 

 Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve dated before.” 

“Exclusively, for more than 4 days?”

Sebastian chuckles, the kind that Kurt can’t tell if it’s with annoyance. “You know, at some point you’ll have to let go of the juvenile image you have of me.” 

“I’m trying.”  And Kurt means it. Sebastian now is not like the Sebastian he had met at seventeen. He still holds the same snappy personality, but it’s complimented with kindness and sincerity. 

The night progresses, Sebastian and Kurt parting ways so Kurt can mingle with the other talent brought in. He is introduced to families who were going through the same battle as him and he feels moved by their stories. Told that his words about cancer touching more than just the patients were the most accurate way that anyone had ever described what they were going through. Kurt smiles and tells them that he felt the same way when he heard them. He owes that oncologist more than he’ll be able to describe. 

He doesn’t tell anyone who it was or all the other ways he’s helped him since. Those things felt sacred to Kurt. 

The entire time, he keeps glancing at Sebastian as if there’s a magnetic pull between them. Every once in a while, they’ll share a brief smile and for just a moment, it feels like there’s no one else around. 

He tries to ignore it. 

Because regardless of what his heart and body is trying to tell him, his mind tells him that he can’t get tangled in anything more with Sebastian.

Later that night, Kurt makes his way back to his apartment when Blaine calls. 

“I just got home.” Kurt says, slipping out of his shoes as he shuts the door behind him. “What’s up?”

Blaine clears his throat. “My Daughter's Oncologist. Kurt Hummel’s Emotional Speech Stuns at Pediatric Cancer Benefit.” 

Kurt groans, but he smiles anyway. “Oh no, what are they saying?” 

“They’re praising your performance, mostly. About how your rendition of “I Hope You Dance” made everyone cry.” 

Kurt laughs, remembering Sebastian’s remarks after the song. 

“And then…” He hears Blaine inhale. “They touch on the line about the oncologist. Not a ton. But they’re gossip blogs. They’re sleuths. So, we should probably prepare for that.” 

“Let’s just get ahead of it.” Kurt says after a beat. 

“I emailed Jason, he drafted a statement for us to put out together. I just texted it to you.” 

Kurt pulls his phone from his ear, skimming through the message quickly. “I think that’s perfect. Let’s put it out.” 

And that’s how a screenshot from the iPhone notes app ends up on their instagram feeds. 

B.Anderson and KurtHummel: As many of you have gathered, our daughter is currently going through cancer treatments. While we are grateful for the love and support, this is an incredibly personal time for our family and we ask for your continued respect for her privacy."

The next day when Kurt arrives at the hospital, Sebastian is lingering near the nurses station. He’s talking to one of the techs, gesturing animatedly. 

Kurt waves, short and friendly. 

“One sec.” Sebastian says to the tech and then quick steps to Kurt. 

“I have a bone to pick with you.” He tells Kurt once he catches up to him. 

“Oh?” 

“You stole my words and now they’re headlines.” Kurt rolls his eyes, smiling. Sebastian continues. “I’m being called the anonymous oncologist.” 

“Oh, poor you.” Kurt says, tilting his head and patting Sebastian’s shoulder before walking into Finley’s room. 

His phone pings. 

D. S.: It’s not fair. I deserve royalties. 
D. S.: Or at least dinner or something. 

Kurt stares at the message from the doorway of Finley’s room. His pulse skipping, stomach rolling slightly. 

He tries to tell himself it’s just a joke. Like it always is with Sebastian. 

Kurt: Keep dreaming, Smythe. 

Sebastian replies instantly and Kurt can almost hear his laugh, see the way his lips turn up into a grin. 

D. S.: Count on it. 

Kurt purses his lips together, locks his phone, and pretends that his entire morning was just made by Sebastian Smythe’s comments. 

Chapter Text

Sebastian can’t stop thinking about Kurt’s speech. His mind dances back and forth between how mesmerizing he had been and how he inspired so many with his words. It’s been two and a half weeks and he’s still there.

There have been articles and comments all full of stories from families that spill into long rants about how different their lives have become since their children were diagnosed. 

Sebastian wonders, if he can recognize the patterns, if he can see the struggle and the pain, why can’t he do anything about it? 

It’s after twenty minutes of small talk with Nick and Emma at the neighborhood diner near their house when he finds the courage to bring it up. 

“Do you remember a few weeks ago when this idiot,” Sebastian nudges Nick with his shoulder, “started a free psychoanalysis of Anderson’s blindness to his ex’s burnout?” 

Nick groans playfully, throwing his head back. “We were supposed to be giving you a free psychoanalysis of your secret love of reality tv shows.” 

“More like a free psychoanalysis of your not-so-secret crush on a patient's dad.” Emma mutters into the rim of her mug. 

“Anyway,” Sebastian shoots her a glare. He doesn’t deny the claim, though, because she’s not wrong. 

But this was about something bigger.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve always noticed parents burning out and try to encourage them when I can but it’s more like a.. ‘yeah this life sucks, maybe go get yourself a coffee’ and not actually doing anything.” 

Nick tilts his head, eyes curious. “I mean, caffeine saves lives so that’s a start. But you’re saying… what? You want to start like a parent support group or something?”

Sebastian shrugs, frustration simmering under his skin. He wants to do something, almost needs to, and doesn’t have any idea how. He’s not used to the unknown. “I don’t know. Something. I went to that event and saw so many people grab onto that one sentence during Kurt’s speech and those few words I’d told him… they grabbed onto it like it was water in the desert.” 

He swishes the liquid in his cup. “It was something. But not enough. It feels complicit. Like I watch burnout walk into my clinic every day, and acknowledging is all that I can offer because my job is to save the kid, not the parent.” 

Emma leans forward, pushing her mug to the side carefully. There’s something in the way she looks at Sebastian, hair falling out of the messy bun she always wore, that made him feel seen and understood. “Parents are part of the kid’s care, though, and you know if they’re fried the kid suffers too. You’re not crazy for wanting to address that.” 

Sebastian huffs. “Thanks, therapist-in-training.” 

Emma rolls her eyes, hand reaching across the table and placing it on top of Sebastian’s. “I’m serious. You don’t have to come up with a whole plan yet. Just some ideas. What are you thinking? Therapy groups, resource hubs, research?” 

“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” Sebastian rubs his hand over his face. Every time he says he doesn’t know the frustration starts bubbling again. “Research feels too safe. Research alone isn’t really going to sit with a parent at 2am because they’re scared, or cry with dads in stair wells. And I keep thinking back to the event. To the dad who stood up and said he felt seen. That shouldn't be rare.” 

Nick nods, slowly, as if he’s trying to process the ideas. “Maybe try to build something that changes how the system treats parents. Doesn’t have to be anything big at first. Maybe structured check-ins? Where it’s someone’s job to ask how the parents are doing.” 

Emma lights up at that, sharing a knowing glance with her husband. “Our MA  asks every parent that comes in for well-babies how they’re doing, she just started it one day and it seems to make a difference. I know exhausted parents of newborns aren’t quite the same as parents fighting cancer with their kids…” she trails off with a shrug. 

“Yeah. Maybe. I just don’t want it to be another list I file away.” Sebastian slouches back with a resigned sigh.

“So don’t.” Emma replies. “Just start small. You’re already ranting to us. Rant to Grace, maybe your shiny new NP. You’ve got the why, the shape will come eventually.” 

“And if all else fails, we start a foundation: free coffee for burnt out parents. Trademark pending.” Nick quips. 

“We will leave that one as your legacy, sweetheart.” Emma’s eyes twinkle affectionately while Nick pouts playfully muttering about how it’s a good idea.

As they separate, Sebastian files the conversation away in favor of another day of helping kids fight exhausting battles.

But in every parent he interacts with the weight of it lingers. 

And it weighs even heavier when he moves from the clinic to the inpatient floor. He’s with the new advanced practice providers for his clinic, introducing them to families, to parents and siblings who are barely holding it together. It’s a routine of pleasantries and smiles. 

“This is one of our longer term families. They’ve been with the practice longer than me and Grace. Kid’s a budding genius. She likes to guess her blood pressure, she’s usually pretty spot on.” Sebastian rattles off outside of Finley’s room.

He knocks on the door before opening it slowly, looking around with a professional smile. “Finley, Mr. Hummel. Thought we’d bring by some new faces.” 

Kurt looks up from his perch on Finley’s bed where she’s curled into his side. “Sebastian.” He says evenly with a nod. 

Sebastian shouldn’t have been taken aback by his name. It was his name, after all. But all morning he had been Dr. Smythe. And there’s something about the way it sounds in Kurt’s voice that shocks his system. It’s like it brought him back down to earth, that he was someone besides a fancy white coat. 

“This is Riley.” Sebastian gestures to Riley, a tall gentleman with pitch black hair and wide hazel eyes, who waves with a smile. “And Moray.” Moray, a strawberry blonde with a stocky figure, reaches out for a handshake. 

“They’ll be working with us at the clinic, helping with patient load.” Sebastian explains. “I wanted to introduce them since you’ll likely see them.” 

Sebastian locks eyes with Kurt, professionalism faltering. “How has the week been?” 

Kurt inhales, shrugging, a look of exhaustion and defeat. “Busy. Lots of conversations and planning.” 

It takes everything in him to let it go. To leave it at the vague professional encounter between a doctor and a father. Because he wants to know the plans, he wants to know how Kurt is handling them and how he can help ease the stress. 

But he’s here now in a professional manner and he can't let that boundary slip. 

So Sebastian clears his throat, “Well, we’ll let you get back to it. Finley, keep it up.” He pulls a large sticker out of his pocket and sets it on the table next to her bed, watching her eyes light up despite the weakness in her limbs. 

As Sebastian follows Riley and Moray out, Kurt’s voice calls quietly, “Thanks for the sticker.” 

It doesn’t feel like a simple pleasantry. It was raw gratitude.

He smiles over his shoulder, taking a moment to get one last glance at Kurt. At the way he still manages to look put together on the outside, but the crinkle in his brows and the pain in his eyes tell Sebastian that he’s barely hanging on. 

He lets the door close softly behind him. 

The day continues on. Along with it, the image of Kurt’s tired eyes and frail smile swimming in the front of his mind with the burnt out parents he longs to help.

So he gives in to that all to familiar nagging feeling of wanting to reach out. 

Sebastian: so did you really survive the week or do I need to perform a wellness check. 

Kurt: Survived. Only because Finley refused to let me wallow. 

Sebastian: Smart kid. She’s been outsmarting her medical equipment for months now. Your wallowing doesn’t stand a chance. 

Kurt: How does it feel knowing there’s a patient on your floor who is going to be smarter than you in a few weeks? 

Sebastian: Beaming with pride. I just hope she can keep it up and cause chaos with high school pranks. 

Kurt: You’re setting me up for way too many parent-teacher conferences. 

Sebastian: You’ll be fine. I’ll send you cue cards. “I know she hotwired the vending machine, Principal Robbins, but what can I say? Innovation is innovation.”

Kurt: Ridiculous. 

Sebastian presses hip lips together as he glances at the clock. Time seems to go by in a flash when he’s talking to Kurt.

Sebastian: Entertaining. Why else would you be texting me at 11 instead of sleeping. 

Kurt: Pot meet kettle. Don’t you have rounds in the morning?

Sebastian: Touché. But, technically, I was checking to make sure you’re holding up so it was entirely selfless. 

Kurt: Entirely selfless? Please. You thrive on my exhaustion induced sarcasm. 

Sebastian: You can admit it. You like having me around to trade nonsense with at night. 

Kurt: don’t let it go to your head. 

Sebastian: Too late, already going to have it engraved on my tombstone. 

Kurt: I’ll make sure to send the cheapest flowers I can find. 

Sebastian: I’m touched. 

Sebastian: Go to sleep before the 5am shift change wakes you. 

Kurt doesn’t reply, and Sebastian didn’t expect him to. He locks his phone, and tries to will himself to sleep. 

Instead of sleep, though, he’s met with a continued blend of thoughts. Kurt’s messages and their underlying meanings mixed with the reminder that he’s stuck in a hospital room with no real end in sight. 

By the time morning rolls around, Sebastian is still wired from the day before. He tries to focus on what’s important: his schedule, his patients. But the idea keeps gnawing at him. The one that Kurt inspired. He just can’t seem to let it go. 

And when the day is over, wrapped neatly in perfect charting and treatment notes, he can’t keep it in his little circle anymore. 

He’s hovering in the doorway of the clinic, watching Riley diligently type away at the computer. He debates whether to speak or walk away. 

Is it too soon to say anything? He doesn’t have anything planned out and he barely knows Riley. Yet something in him is telling him he’s going to be a good head to rope in on this. 

Riley spots him before he can decide. “What’s with the creepy-shadow-lurker vibes?” He doesn’t look up from the computer. 

Sebastian shifts his weight, suddenly very uncomfortable with the fact that he may very well seem insane. 

Just say it. You’re better than this. 

“I wanted to see if you’d help me with something.” 

Riley chuckles, leaning back in his chair making it creak slightly. “That’s what I was hired for, wasn’t it?” 

“Well—not really. This isn’t patient care related. Or maybe it is. I don’t know, I haven’t fully figured it out.” Sebastian shakes his head as he sees the confusion on Riley’s face. So he starts over. “You were hired to help with outpatient stuff in the clinic and do most after hours patient calls. This isn’t related to any of that. I’m wanting to start a program, or a study, or something.” 

“You really don’t know what you’re saying, do you?” Riley says as Sebastian fumbles through his words. 

He chuckles nervously. Because he doesn’t. He mostly rambles when he talks about this. There’s no sense of organization to his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about burnout. For the parents of our patients, mostly. So many of them are fraying and there’s nothing we can do. We tell them ‘oh take care of yourself, we know this is hard.’ But it just feels like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound. It doesn’t actually do anything.” 

“Aren’t there parent support groups?” Riley asks, fingers drumming against each other. 

“Yeah but it’s clearly not enough.” Sebastian pauses. “I don’t have it fully fleshed out or anything, but it’s been nagging me for a while. I want to do something for them and I might need a hand depending on how it goes.”

“It sounds interesting. Parents are the backbone of what we do. God knows they need more help. You could be filling a real gap.” Riley says, hands laced behind his head casually while he swivels in his chair. 

“That’s the plan.” Sebastian says with finality. 

He just hoped he could follow through on it. 

Which is why he finds himself sitting at his kitchen counter at 12:05am, knee deep in notes. 

He’d started a list. Or more like a brain dump of all of the ideas wrestling around in his head. 

• Meta-Analysis — what studies are out there already and what’s missing? 
• Parent survey of burnout score, brief 5-7 questions easy to answer and give out with normal triage 
• Who to get involved — social work, psych, respite care, child life
• Intervention ideas — structured check-ins with APPs, MAs, maybe even mental health counselors?? emergency resource cards, access to food, transportation, prescriptions, financial assistance. on unit peer support in multiple time slots to cater to different schedules, text based CBT inspired prompts 
• Funding?? Grants, donations, resident research
• Desired outcome, positive change in burnout scores, assistance, acceptance, improve family relationships

He reads over the list three times. Seeing it written out in messy handwriting brings the kind of elated feeling that is backed with terror. 

God, how he wants to tell Kurt about this. To say “hey, I see you. And I see all of the people just like you. And I’m finally doing something with it.” 

But doing that would bring in a whole new wave of possibilities and things to consider. 

Yes, Kurt is a parent who would probably break the burnout scoring system. Someone who would really benefit from some of these ideas. But ethically? If Sebastian wanted to continue to explore whatever they’re doing he couldn’t involve Kurt in this. Not yet. 

And, honestly, telling Kurt about it could change their dynamic in unpredictable ways. 

He briefly imagines what would happen if he tells Kurt too soon. The intensity in his expressions, the way his brow would straighten into a stock clinical exchange. 

Or, potentially even worse, Kurt would feel obligated, cornered, or even awkward about the whole thing. 

The safest thing to do is to anchor it in evidence and only bring it to Kurt if it becomes abundantly clear that it is centered on families. For the time being, he has to let the work speak for itself. 

Sebastian glances over his list once more. He lets out a breathy laugh that’s part relief, part misbelief. This is how he can make change. With mapped out messy thoughts turned into a careful plan. And then when the time is right, bring the people he cares about in.

Chapter Text

Kurt was starting to feel like a regular patron of the hospital cafeteria. He had his favorite menu items, knew what times they put out fresh coffee, and had made friends with a few staff members who would slip him their employee discount. 

He should be annoyed that he arrived at the agreed upon time to have a conversation with Blaine to find him on the phone with Fred. And he is. Sort of. He gets the importance of balancing time when navigating a long distance relationship. But did that have to intrude on the conversation regarding time with their daughter?

He slides into the seat across from Blaine with a paper cup and idly scrolls his phone while he waits. 

D. S.: I have a 16 year old patient who is literally drooling over your ex-husband in Freezing. 

Kurt laughs a little too comfortably and Blaine raises a brow curiously as he sets his own phone down on the table. 

“Sebastian says you have a fan upstairs.” He angles his phone slightly to show Blaine the message. 

Blane squints, leaning forward over the table. “Huh.” 

The tone is familiar. The one where he wants to be asked about something. So Kurt bites. “What?”

“Nothing, I just noticed that there’s a lot of messages between the two of you.”

Kurt locks his phone and shrugs. Trying to seem casual about it, he redirects the conversation to what they were there for. 

“So, you need to do this press tour for 10 days.”

“It’s not really leaving for ten days but that’s how long the schedule is. They’ve got me doing a few podcasts and interviews in LA for 5 days and then there’s a few shows here in the city but I’ll be able to come around and stuff in between.” 

Kurt shifts in his seat, nodding understandingly.

Blaine exhales, “I really tried to get out of it. But contracts are contracts.” 

Kurt gets it. Blaine signed the contract that included press for the series long before Finley relapsed. And things were… okay, for now. And he knows Blaine would throw himself into breach of contract if anything changed. 

“Okay. That’s… okay.” 

Kurt decides now is as good as any time to bring up his own new thought, since Blaine is abandoning ship for a week it’s only fair. “I also wanted to run something by you.” 

“Oh?”

“I want to start… auditioning again.” His words are hesitant. As if he can’t really trust himself to say them. 

“Now?”

“Yeah, you know how the audition process goes, it’s long and annoying and I just, well, I don’t know, I need something that’s not just taking care of her.” 

“Okay…” Blaine shifts, his eyes looking down at the peeling edges of the table. 

The hesitation is clear. And Kurt wants to snap. To yell. To say that it’s not really fair that he gets to have these walls and these doubts about Kurt having a career. 

He decides to hear Blaine out, instead. “You don’t like the idea?” 

“No, I do. It’s just I don’t know how it would work.” 

Of course he doesn't. Because he’d still keep working the same way he had, there would obviously be no sacrifices from the golden actor. It wasn’t his job to figure out how it would work. 

But again, Kurt doesn’t say any of that. He swallows the building adrenaline, letting his knee bounce rapidly to diffuse it. “We’d figure it out if I landed anything.” 

“Of course we would. I guess I just am surprised, I thought the plan was always waiting for her to be cured.”

No Kurt thinks. That was your plan. I never had a vote. 

With another sharp intake of breath, Kurt says the thing that they’ve both been too afraid to admit: “What if she never is?”

Blaine’s eyes go round and his jaw gapes open. “Why would you say something like that?” 

Kurt pulls the hem of sleeves over his knuckles. His throat feels like it’s shrinking. He doesn’t want to think like this. Doesn’t want to live in a world of worst case scenarios and planning for a future without Finley. 

But the longer they’re on this journey, the harder that’s becoming to avoid. 

“Because it’s true. We were so close to the end of the road before this happened.” His voice cracks, and the next words come out barely audible, because saying them quietly made them feel a little less awful. “Am I just supposed to sit around and keep my career paused for another two years because she’s sick?” 

“What about us wanting to be with her?” 

His heart rate quickens. He tightens a fist around his sleeve, pressing his lips together tightly. 

You haven’t been with her. You get to go to whatever filming location, do whatever musical schedule you want, while I’m sitting here alone holding things down.  

Kurt shakes his head, pushing whatever frustration he has at Blaine further into the back of his mind. Because he can’t start something here in the hospital cafeteria. He can’t have the soundtrack to this argument being clattering plates and a weird blend of laughter and crying. 

“I’d still be here, in the city. Home with her when it matters. And if we both book a show we can hire a home nurse or something to help balance.” 

“It’s.. an idea” Blaine crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “It sounds like you’ve thought about it.”

“I’ve been talking to Raven about it.” Kurt confirms with a nod, fidgeting with the paper straw in his cup. It’s been a topic in every weekly session they’ve had since Finley relapsed. Reclaiming his identity and accepting reality. 

“And frankly, we’re divorced, so I don’t need your permission. I just wanted to give you a heads up.” The words come out harder than Kurt thought they would. He hadn’t even really planned to say them, but after years of not being able to voice his wants it all seemed to catch up to him. 

Blaine is obviously shocked by Kurt’s assertiveness, because he slouches back, defeated. “Okay. Let me know what you need from me and we’ll figure it out.” 

Let me know what you need from me… The comments isn’t fully present, said from a parent who doesn’t do the heavy lifting, but still wants to be helpful.

He nods, gathering his tray, and tells himself that he isn’t going to spiral again. 

Later that afternoon, Kurt is sitting across from Rachel in their weekly catch up. She’s recounting the events of her anatomy scan in great detail when his phone buzzes. He glances down at a new message from Sebastian and laughs before he can stop himself. 

Rachel stops mid-sentence and extends her arm. “Okay. Hand it over.”

“Uh, no.” Kurt protests, pulling his phone close to his chest protectively. 

She lunges over and pulls it out of his hand with speed that doesn't make sense for someone who is twenty-two weeks pregnant. And then, as she scrolls, she gasps loud enough for heads to turn curiously. 

“‘If you keep folding laundry during reality TV shows, you’re officially a suburban dad. Should have kept your hot-dad-SUV when you moved to the city.’” Rachel reads, her pitch climbing excitedly as she does.

Kurt reaches for his phone though he knows he’s done for. His secret's out. But maybe if he can keep her from reading any more, the identity can remain a secret. And maybe he’ll retain a shred of dignity. “Rachel, stop.” He says forcefully. 

She put a hand up and keeps reading. “‘If I spill my coffee this morning, you are legally obligated to judge me after the night I had’ and then he says ‘You would get both sympathy and judgement because you spill your coffee too often. And then I’d buy you a cup that’s actually good.’ Okay…” 

“Rachel.” Kurt pleads. He can picture Sebastian’s expression if he knew that Rachel was reading their text messages. The smug grin, the way his eyebrow would lift, the proud twinkle in his eyes at the thought of getting under Kurt’s skin.

He hates that the thought makes his stomach flip.

Rachel giggles. “‘You looked dangerous in that headshot you posted earlier.’ ‘Elaborate?’ ‘Cute.’ He called you dangerously cute!” 

His head is in his hands now, hiding his blushing face at the reminder that Sebastian had called him cute. Because that was the most bold, straight forward, acknowledgement between them. 

“Who is this guy?” Rachel’s nose scrunches as she continues reading. “‘I am incredibly stressed right now.’ ‘Send me a selfie, I need black mail.’ You asked him for a stressed selfie!” 

She goes quiet after that and Kurt glances between his fingers. He sees her scrolling backwards slowly and when her jaw drops, Kurt’s heart goes with it. 

“Oh, Kurt.” Her shoulders loosen, she hands his phone back to him. “Really?”

The teasing look in her eyes shifts. She is no longer looking at him as a friend craving gossip, but something heavier. Maybe judgment, or maybe sympathy. Kurt can’t make it out. 

“Don’t judge.” It is all he can bring himself to say. There were no words, no valid explanation for how their text messages have changed from a doctor checking in with his patient's dad to... whatever this was between them. 

Rachel doesn’t see the Sebastian that Kurt has been seeing lately. She still only sees that boy in high school who caused drama and tried to ruin lives. It is clear in the way that she questions him. “Sebastian?” 

Kurt locks his phone and slides it into his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck. 

When she asks when it started, Kurt slouches back into his chair, trying to make himself smaller and not knowing how to answer. 

He doesn’t really have a timeline when he could pinpoint when his distaste for Sebastian switched to something else. And he really can’t point to when they started openly flirting with each other. 

She props her head in her hand, sympathetic eyes looking over at him. “Does Blaine know?”

Kurt almost laughs. “Please. He’s oblivious. He knows we’re friends and I’d like it if he kept that thought.” 

Rachel nods, slowly. She looks like she wants to say something, but Kurt doesn't let her get another word in.

“You will tell no one.” Kurt says sternly. “This is just some casual flirting. It doesn’t mean anything and I don’t need it turning into a thing.”

“Lips are sealed.” She mimes a lock next to the corner of her mouth. 

“Thank you. Now tell me about you some more. What’s Jesse’s latest baby name ideas?”

She launches into a ten minute story about how she and Jesse can’t agree on a name for their son. Every name she likes he has some reason they can’t use and the only name Jesse likes is one that grinds every one of Rachel’s gears. 

Kurt listens intently, trying to remember those arguments about baby names. When everything seemed so hopeful and full of possibilities. 

Now he worries that every day with his daughter might be the last. 

As they prepare to go their separate ways, Rachel smirks at Kurt. “Next time he has a high school level rom-com line, please send it to me.”

“Go home, Rachel.” 

Over the course of the evening, his mind continues to circle back to the conversation with Rachel. 

He knows that he lied and that it’s not just playful flirting. Not really. Sebastian’s messages make him blush and feel things he hasn’t felt in a long time. He enjoys that. Almost craves it.

But those were inside thoughts that would never see the light of day, because there was absolutely no chance that Kurt would ever admit that he liked Sebastian Smythe. 

The next morning, he sits in the hospital courtyard nursing an old coffee from several hours ago, exhausted from the long night.

Finley had gotten sick, thrown up all over her comfort blanket, and he’d gone home in the middle of the night to wash it. 

“Rumor has it your daughter is upstairs making the new nurses cry,” Kurt smiles into his cup as he sees Sebastian approach, hands tucked casually in the pockets of his jacket. The breeze ruffles through his hair, messing it slightly in a way that makes Kurt’s chest feel warm.

Finley has a way of being stubborn when she's not feeling her best, and that was pretty much the entirety of the last few months. She was starting to get increasingly restless with the prolonged hospital stay and wasn't making the nursing teams job easy; and Kurt couldn't blame her.

“What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be bossing those nurses around or something?” 

“Nah. I got that done hours ago.” Sebastian slides onto the bench next to Kurt. He sits closer than necessary. Kurt tells himself not to notice. But then… there’s that little stutter in his chest again when Sebastian leans slightly and the fabric brushes against Kurt’s bare arm in a feather-like touch.

“I saw you from the physician's balcony and thought what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come to make your day worse?” 

Kurt raises a brow. Up until this point it was as if neither of them had dared to try to branch away from the dislike they’d once shared. “Friend? Is that what we’re calling this now?”

“I mean, unless you’d prefer rivals, nemesis, occasional confidante?” Kurt’s eyes fixate on the way Sebastian talks with his hands. 

He hates the way his mind lingers there. The way it wraps around the way Sebastian seems to know just how much the gestures can enhance his point.

“I get it. Friends is fine.” He mutters, trying (unsuccessfully) not to smile.

“Good.” Sebastian smirks. Kurt’s starting to get used to the way it looks on his lips. “Friends who shamelessly flirt with each other.” 

“That’s not what this is.” Kurt says defensively, hoping Sebastian doesn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. 

“Right. Sure. Of course not.” Sebastian leans back, crossing his leg. His knee bumps Kurt lightly as he does so. 

Kurt glares but there’s no heat behind it. Because he’d told Rachel that very same thing the day before.

Sebastian tilts his head and Kurt softens, at a loss for words. The eye contact lingers just long enough to send a spark in the base of his throat. He tears his gaze away first, trying to ignore the heat. And he really wants to ignore the immediate longing for more that he feels when Sebastian turn away, too. 

Chapter Text

Patients' vitals go up and down. Sebastian knows that. He also knows what to do when they drop. Usually. 

One of his adolescent patients has been up and down for days, fevers that linger and then disappear without reason. He’s miserable and Sebastian is starting to get frustrated with his inability to help.

He’s a good doctor. He’s supposed to be able to help these kids. Yet he’s losing this one and he can’t even figure out why.

“No, let’s just…” Sebastian pauses, leaning against the counter of the nurses station and reading over the chart open on his tablet. He’s been talking with the other members of his care team and trying to come up with a plan for days and the nursing team on the floor wants an update. “His counts are holding steady, even with the fever. Let’s keep the antibiotics going and add a blood culture. Page me before doing any fever reducers so we don’t mask anything.” 

“Got it.” One of the nurses said, jotting the note down. 

He’s pulled into a new wave of thoughts we he overhears two CNAs rounding the corner.

“They’re moving Finley up to intensive so that’s one less patient on my load tonight.” His pulse starts quickening and he stares at them for too long. He shakes it off.

“I’ll check back in a bit, but again. Page me if anything changes. He’s fragile but I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He says, knocking on the counter before walking away. He doesn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve but hoping for a miracle.

He swallows, rubbing the back of his neck as he walks past Finely’s room. He glances at the closed door, knowing what’s on the other side. 

Kurt panicking. Or Blaine panicking. 

But probably Kurt, because he’s the one who is always in there and Blaine’s probably panicking from a table read somewhere.

He can’t be the one to say something first. No matter how much he wants to. He can’t abuse his position of being around and hearing nurses and techs talk about patients. 

So he goes about his day. While working on the same complicated case from that morning, he hears a knock that brings him right back to reality. 

“You got a second?” Dr. Grace asks, leaning against the doorway to Sebastian’s office. 

“Is this a real second? Or one of your chatty-cathy minutes?” Sebastian grumbles, glancing up from the computer

“The nurses on the floor have been talking.” She slides into the chair across from him, a knowing look in her eyes. 

“Shocking. Nurses gossiping.” 

“They’re saying that you get weird whenever someone mentions Finley Anderson-Hummel. Or her dads.” 

Sebastian recoils. “Weird how?” He leans back in his chair. 

Has he been obvious? He can’t deny he didn’t get a little distracted earlier at the mention of her name, but were there other moments he was unaware of?

“I believe some words thrown around were: distracted, defensive, tight-lipped.” 

Defensive and tight-lipped… Probably from when someone asked him a question about her care and he refused to answer. Maybe that was a mistake. 

“And honestly? I’ve noticed it, too. You’ve been weird about her since you gave me her case.” Grace finishes.

“That wasn’t my decision, it was theirs.” He says curtly. 

“I know, but what gives? What is it with you and this family?”

“There’s… history.” Sebastian rubs the back of his neck, wincing. “I knew them in high school. Blaine had transferred from my school because he wanted to be with Kurt, and all the guys were obsessed with getting him back because they worshipped him or something. I spent most of junior year making him my personal hobby. I would flirt with him, try to get between him and Kurt. And I did a lot of things I am not proud of. If my dad wasn’t who he is, I’d probably have been sent to juvenile detention.”

“And Kurt?” 

“Hated me. For good reason. I was a bit of a menace. I turned things around senior year but the damage was already done.” 

Grace nods understandingly. She cocks her head slightly, eyes focused, almost interested. “And now?” 

“Now things just feel complicated.” He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just wanted to make it right. Make amends. But I don't know, I think I care differently than I had set out to.” 

Grace hums, swiveling in the chair. “It seems like you have to decide where your heart ends and your job begins.” 

Sebastian processes her words. She’s making it sound so simple.

He slumps back, looking up at the ceiling. As if the answer were hidden somewhere in between the panels.

“Speaking of my job…” Sebastian says after a minute, motioning to the computer. “Can I pick your brain on this one?” 

They shift into a back and forth, discussing treatment courses and pros and cons of a case that doesn’t take so much out of him. Ten minutes later, as she goes to leave, she reminds him softly: “Be careful with your heart, Smythe.”

He smiles sadly, because it was almost too late for that. His heart has been pulling in directions it shouldn’t, and he doesn't think he can just lock it away again.

The air feels heavy after she’s gone. When he’s alone with his thoughts, packing up for the night. Laptop. Coat. Phone. 

Before pocketing his phone, he glances at the screen. 

One new message. 

He stares for a second before whatever blurry reality he has been circling in is gone. 

The first signs had been small. 

Things Kurt wouldn’t even bat an eye at. 

A little more tired. 

A little less feisty. 

But then the next morning, she barely moved when the nurse came in to take her vitals. 

No trying to out smart the blood pressure cuff. No playful wrestling. Not even an attempt. She just laid there, limp and tired.

Kurt tried to tell himself that it was just a rough patch. Just a rough morning.

Until Dr. Grace finds him in the hallway. 

“I’m going to have her moved to intensive care today.” She says, eyes soft. 

Intensive care. The words echo, and everything else Grace says sounds muffled. Kurt feels like he’s drowning. 

He wants to question, wants to know exactly what that means for her and why she needs to be moved… after all, it’s just a rough patch. 

He shakes himself out of it, puts on a brave face, and sets to work. He pushes fear aside in place of making sure everyone is informed, her bags are ready to move, and all the duties of caretaker are fulfilled.

Then he can ask questions. Then he can feel the fear.

He slides into Finley’s room, pulls his phone out and immediately dials Blaine. 

“Grace wants to move her,” Kurt says the second the line clicks open. “Up to ICU.” 

Blaine’s silent. Kurt can hear the change in his breathing as he processes. “Okay. Okay, that’s.. That’s good, right? More eyes on her?”

Kurt’s stomach twists. “Right.” 

He calls his dad next. 

“They’re moving her to ICU.” Deep breath. “No, dad, don’t drop everything I just..” he breaks off, tears stinging his eyes. “I just needed to tell you. To say it out loud.”

The day blurs by in a mess of paperwork and new nurses introducing themselves. They move by monitors that beep faster and louder than he had remembered. 

The air in the ICU is different from the other units. Every sound carries the weight of heavier consequences. 

Kurt spends most of the day once she’s settled pacing. Sitting. Standing. Sitting again. He tries to hide his fear so that Finley doesn’t see it in the moments that she’s awake, how few they have been today. 

By the time evening rolls around and Blaine is sitting on the edge of Finley’s bed, softly reading her the first Harry Potter, Kurt slips out to the waiting room for a break. 

He texts Sebastian because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

Kurt: I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m trying not to panic, but I’m scared.

It’s not even a full minute before the reply lights up his screen.
 
D. S.: Where are you? 
 
Kurt perches against the back wall, flipping his phone in his hand. Over. And over. He stares blankly at the poster across from him and notices the way the top corner is folding in on itself. 

And then there’s Sebastian. He doesn’t say anything when he walks into the room. He’s just there. Standing next to Kurt with his white coat draped over one arm. 

Kurt stares at the floor, counting the lines on the carpet with his eyes.

He shifts his weight slightly and their shoulders brush against each other. The touch breaks his count, and along with it goes his ability to force back the sobs that have been buried in his throat for hours. 

“I can’t—“ his voice cracks. “God I can’t do this.” 

And then his body gives way. His back slides down the wall, his shirt tugging against his skin. 

Sebastian is in front of him before he hits the ground, white coat dropped in a pile. He’s on his knees, pulling Kurt into a firm hold. 

Kurt doesn’t think about anything. He can’t. 

He presses his face into Sebastian’s shoulder, sobs shaking his entire body. Sebastian doesn’t move. He has one arm against Kurt’s back, the other cradling his head. 

They stay like that for what seems like hours. The quiet chatter of passerby’s muffled by Kurt’s uneven breaths. There was no judgment, no words. Just Sebastian holding Kurt and giving him the space to fall apart. 

The waiting room door slides open and Kurt glances up to see Blaine. He pauses in his steps for a minute, expression unreadable. Then, he crouches down next to them. “She’s asleep again. I’m gonna head home for the night.” 

Kurt nods. Blaine touches his shoulder softly, then pats Sebastian on the back as he walks away. 

Kurt doesn’t move. Sebastian doesn’t let go. 

They just stay there. On the floor of the hospital waiting room. 

Kurt can feel the steady breaths in Sebastian’s chest. The way his thumb rubs his hair, the movement so subtle but just enough to bring a wave of comfort through Kurt’s veins. 

The thoughts of what could happen are laced with the somehow familiar feeling of Sebastian sitting here with him. 

Finley could die. 

His daughter, his everything, could actually lose this battle. And he’d known that. He’d talked about it with Blaine, with his Dad, with his therapist. But until now, it was all just a potential outcome. Now, watching her body slowly deteriorate over the past few days, it felt more like a reality that he was going to have to face. 

And then, all of those thoughts are drowned out by the slightest shift that Sebastian does. He turns his head, his forehead pressing against the side of Kurt’s, and then suddenly he’s not going to the worst case scenario anymore. He finds himself grounding with the steady beats of Sebastian’s heart and the way he still somehow smells like a forest after a long day. 

Kurt pulls back, leaning his head against the wall. His throat aches from crying, and as he rubs his finger against his temple he’s not quite ready to meet Sebastian’s eye. “I bet I look like a sight right now.” 

Sebastian pulls his knee against his chest, the other leg tucked under him. “Honestly? I’ve seen worse. There was this intern who fainted in the middle of rounds once and then woke up with drool on his scrubs. You’re a solid six steps above that.” 

Kurt huffs, a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Wow. High praise.” 

“But, seriously,” Sebastian’s tone softens and Kurt tips his head just enough to meet his gaze. “Grace was right to move her. I’d have made the same call. ICU isn’t a punishment…” he pauses, as if he’s searching for the right words. “It’s like insurance. More eyes, resources, chances to catch something before it gets bad. It’s what she deserves.” 

“Thank you.” Kurt isn’t sure the words are enough to convey what he’s feeling right now. The gratitude that’s pooling in his body for Sebastian’s ability to keep him from drowning.

“You don’t have to thank me for telling you the truth.” Sebastian shrugs, then smirks. “Though if you want to thank me for holding you while you ruin my shirt, I will accept that. In the form of coffee in the morning.” 

Kurt lets out a shaky, genuine laugh. “You’re impossible.” 

“But you didn’t tell me to leave.” Sebastian quips with a teasing grin.

This should be the end of it, he should get up and go back to Finley so she doesn’t wake up alone. 

“I hate this. I hate that every time I all apart, you’re the one here.” He mutters instead. 

Sebastian’s eyes narrow slightly when he frowns. “Why?” 

“Because,” Kurt closes his eyes. “You of all people shouldn’t be the one that I’m collapsing on. It’s humiliating.” 

“Humiliating?” Sebastian repeats, voice sharper than Kurt's heard in years. “Newsflash, Kurt, beng human isn’t humiliating. We all break. You’re allowed to break. And you’re allowed to need someone to catch you when you do.”

Kurt laughs uncomfortably again. “That’s funny, coming from you.” 

Sebastian gives him a look he can’t name and shifts back against the wall. “Yeah, well, maybe I know what I’m talking about. Maybe I’ve done this whole pretending to be bulletproof long enough to recognize it in someone else.” 

Kurt glances at him. He’s shocked to see the honesty laced under Sebastian’s biting words. 

“Besides, if we’re keeping count you’ve broken down on me, what, twice? Three times? At this point it’s practically tradition.” Sebastian says lightheartedly. 

Kurt shakes his head, grinning. He’s definitely keeping count, but not of the times he’s broken down. It’s the times Sebastian has been there to pick up the pieces expecting nothing in return. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Sebastian questions, a genuine expression and care reflecting in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, if I need to break again, I’ll call you.” 

“You better.” 

Sebastian stands, extends a hand out to Kurt to help pull him up. And then, they share one brief moment of eye contact before Sebastian walks out of the waiting room towards the exit, and Kurt is walking back to Finley’s room.

He sits on the fact that Sebastian, just by being there, was able to calm him. The way his hand felt on his back, in his hair. The way his breaths were steady enough to sync with Kurt’s and ground him in a way no one else had before. 

And he was just… there. He didn’t do anything special, he didn’t even say anything. 

He pulls out his phone, starting at the last text message that Sebastian had sent. 

He hadn’t asked any questions, no words about what was going on. Just asked where Kurt was and showed up. 

He opens the contact card. He stares at it for a minute, and then changes the name. 

There was no need for separation or secrecy. Not anymore. 

The change felt bigger than Kurt had expected it to. It wasn’t just changing the name in his phone, but it symbolized a change inside him. 

Kurt: Thank you. I’ll have coffee sent to your office. 
Sebastian: Better make it the expensive kind, none of this hospital shit.

The next morning, Kurt is reading a script for an audition when Blaine arrives. Finley is curled up on her bed, headphones on and watching a movie that she’s watched a thousand times. 

“So…” Blaine says, sliding into the chair next to Kurt. “What’s the deal with you and Sebastian?”

Kurt blinks, startled. “What?” 

“You heard me.” Blaine’s tone is gentle but firm. “I mean, I don’t know if you noticed but last night…” Blaine breathes a half laugh, shaking his head. “When I came out and saw you guys on the floor like that? You don’t really let other people see you like that. And I didn’t think he was capable of comforting someone like that.”

Kurt’s cheeks flush, he sets his script down on the table a little rougher than he intended to. “Blaine, It’s not.. “ 

“Hey.” Blaine cuts off, leaning forward. “It’s not like I’m accusing you of anything I just want to understand.” 

Kurt sits back, running a hand through his hair. “Me too. He drives me crazy, he is insufferable, he always tries to have the last word. But then he shows up when I’m falling apart and just stays. No judgement. And I—” his voice cracks. “I don’t know what to do with that.” 

Kurt pulls the hem of his sweater, a loose thread wrapping around his finger. “It’s ridiculous.” He mutters. “Sebastian Smythe of all people. If you told seventeen-year-old me this would happen, I would have laughed.’ 

Blaine smirks. “Seventeen-year-old you thought a lot of things would be different than they are.”

Kurt gives him a look of distaste, but the corner of his mouth twitches. 

“Listen,” Blaine says, leaning back against his chair. “Do you remember when Sebastian lectured me about your burnout?” 

Kurt winces. “I remember you telling me about it.” 

“It wasn’t really gentle.” Blaine admits. “He basically said I was oblivious that I didn’t notice you falling apart.” 

“That sounds like him” 

“Yeah, well, I wanted to punch him.” Blaine chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “He wasn’t wrong. He sees things. He notices even when it’s inconvenient.” 

Kurt doesn’t say anything as his body stills. 

“That’s different, isn’t it? It's not just because he makes you laugh or shows up, it’s because he actually sees you. Sees what you’re trying to hide and doesn’t let you.” 

Kurt swallows, hard. “You’re okay with that?” 

“Kurt, we may be divorced but I still want you to have people who see you. Even if it’s him. Especially if it’s him, actually, because apparently he’s the only one obnoxious enough to not let you deflect.” 

Kurt laughs shakily. “Obnoxious is one word for it. 

Blaine smiles encouragingly. “You don’t have to define it, but don’t downplay it, either. If someone is making you feel lighter in all this heaviness that we’re dealing with, don’t throw that away because it’s a little complicated.” 

"Daddy, you said we could listen to the new Moana soundtrack together today." Finley interrupts, soft spoken, from her the bed.  She's taken her headphones off and pulled her blanket closer to her chin. 

Kurt inhales, shaking his head through the exhale, muttering under his breath as he pulls out the tray table from next to her bed, "Why is it always Moana?" 

"Because," Blaine says with a giddy smile on his lips, a skip in his step as he connects the bluetooth speaker to his phone. "Moana is the best Disney movie there is. No contest." 

Chapter Text

Sebastian had been pacing in his living room for the past twenty minutes. Because apparently walking the same ten feet over and over would somehow make his brain function clearer. 

He hates asking for advice. He hates needing it even more, truthfully. But last night is still lingering in his mind, too fresh to not get help with processing it. 

His brain keeps going back to Kurt collapsing into him, the sound of his uneven breaths in his ears, the warmth of his skin against his. And the more he thinks about it, the more confused he gets. He hadn't batted an eye when Kurt texted him, hadn't thought twice about going to be there for him. And what did that mean? What did Kurt think about it all? 

Nick, at best, would be unpredictable in his response. But he's still the only person aside from his mom that he trusts for advice.

And he can’t talk to his mom about Kurt. Not yet. He has to understand it better for himself first. 

It takes four rings for Nick to answer. “Woah, what’s the emergency?” Nick’s voice is as light and teasing as it always is. 

“Funny,” Sebastian takes his free hand and brushes it through his hair restlessly, letting it drop to the back of his neck, “Are you busy or not?”

“I’m never busy when it comes to you.” 

“I’m going to do something incredibly out of character for me and ask for advice.” The words came out faster than he wanted them to. 

Nick coughs softly, “I know I already said thi, but woah. Go on.”

Sebastian takes a deep breath, the thought of actually speaking the words causing an unfamiliar sensation in his chest. “Last night Finley got moved up to the ICU. Kurt texted me and I may have ended up on the floor holding him while he cried.” 

Nick’s silent for a second. Sebastian can hear his breath shifting, like he’s trying to think about what to say. 

“Yeaaah,” Nick drawls, “hold that thought—EMMA!” 

Sebastian pulls the phone from his ear at the increased volume. “Sebastian is cracking. You gotta hear this. Seb, I’m putting you on speaker.” 

“Great.” Sebastian’s tone is dripping with sarcasm. He can picture exactly how they were, probably on opposite ends of the kitchen counter, leaning in over the phone and sharing giddy glances at his misery.

“Okay, tell me again how you held Kurt while he cried last night?” Nick’s acting like he’s on cloud nine, which just makes Sebastian clench his jaw. Nick always finds ways to find joy in Sebastian's pain.

“I’d rather just get to the part where you tell me what the hell to do.” He grumbles quickly. 

Emma's soft voice breaks in, compassionate and caring, “Well, does he know you like him?” 

The question is more loaded than she probably realizes. Sebastian is still coming to terms with the fact that he likes Kurt. Not just as a person or a friend, but something deeper.

“I don’t know. No? Maybe. We don’t talk about it. We’re friends. We flirt. We talk about how unfair life is. We talk about how stupid those Mormon Wives are." Sebastian huffs, scrunching his nose. "And sometimes I get the feeling something is happening, sometimes he'll break just enough that his flirting feels less convenient and more genuine. But then he puts his walls back up as quickly as he takes them down. It gives me whiplash.” 

Nick chuckles on the other end of the line and Sebastian’s sure he’s shaking his head and grinning like an idiot.  “You just admitted you not only like Kurt but you guys openly flirt with each other. He texted you when his daughter was moved. You showed up. Held him while he cried. How long were you with him?”

It had felt like forever. A heartbreaking forever where he wanted to be able to take all the anxiety and pain away. “Long enough my foot fell asleep and my ass was cramping.”

“You’re both idiots.” Emma says flatly. 

Sebastian scoffs as he hears a door close in the background. Nick's voice comes through clearer as he takes the phone off speaker. “Just me again.” 

The way Nick’s tone shifts and the deep exhale before he speak makes Sebastian feel uneasy. “She okay?” 

“No.” Nick’s pitch is completely opposite from the enthusiasm he'd expressed minutes before. “We’re up to six now.”

Sebastian feels like his heart drops to his stomach. A pang of regret hits him and he sighs sympathetically, “Damn. Sorry. I should let you deal with that.” 

“No, I need the distraction." Nick shifts on the other end of the line, swallowing loudly, and then with what feels like rehearsed skill, speaks as if he hadn't just dropped another devastating bomb. "What are you going to do about Kurt?”

Sebastian laughs uncomfortably. That was the question of the year. “I don’t fucking know, you were supposed to give me advice.”

“My advice would be to go and plant one on him. Right now.”

“That’s not helpful.” 

“You’re the one who came looking for relationship advice from the guy who eloped on his third date.” Nick replies dispassionately. 

Sebastian’s shoulders slouch as the call ends and he makes a mental note: Send Nick and Emma donuts and coffee tomorrow. God knows they need it for putting up with him during their own mess.

The next morning finds Sebastian pacing. Again. This time in a tiny elevator on his way to a meeting with administration about getting approval to formally start looking into parental burnout. 

He adjusts his tie in the reflection of the doors as it ticks upward, trying not to bounce at the adrenaline and anxiety that’s racing through him. 

“Dude, you’re making me nervous.” Riley says from his perch against the rail. He’s scrolling his phone, not looking up as he speaks. Sebastian wants to siphon some of the nonchalance out of him. 

“Sorry.” Sebastian mumbles, rubbing his wrist as the doors switch open. 

Sebastian moves slowly as he steps off the elevator, trembling slightly as he tries to slow his breathing. He hasn’t been this nervous in years. Not since residency interviews. And even then, he was able to hide behind his ability to fake confidence and sweet talk. 

He doesn’t want to seem over ambitious, he's been here for less than a year, but this was something important that couldn’t wait until he got a little more seniority under his belt. He has to at least try. 

But what happens if he does come off too ambitious? Would people lose respect for him? Would it end up impacting his ability to care for patients if people don’t respect him the same way? 

The conference room feels too large for the meeting. Seven department heads spaced out over a 30 foot table like they can't stand to breathe each other's air. It smells like the same fresh bagels and fancy coffee that gets catered for every department meeting and Sebastian momentarily thinks about changing his pitch to something more along the lines of increasing the food and nutrition budget for the hospital to get the nice coffee on all of the floors every day. 

As he introduces himself, his eyes dart around quickly, trying to focus on the group in front of him and not the screens lining the walls or the way that the chairs keep creaking and the guy at the back of the room won’t stop typing away on his laptop. 

He and Riley go back and forth sharing their ideas. Budget proposals, preliminary focus groups, and a tentative timeline. 

At the end one clarifying question sticks out: “What inspired this proposal? It’s… ambitious.”

There it was. That word that was the source of all of Sebastian’s anxiety surrounding this meeting. 

The real answer: A little girl and her father who carries the weight of everyone he loves on his back alone.

Kurt may have inspired it, but as he’s allowed himself to dwell on it, it’s grown bigger. 

“Patterns.” Sebastian glances around the table, looking into the eyes of all those around him with practiced professionalism. “Parents and caregivers come in again and again. They cycle through our system juggling the impossible. We need to be better for them.” 

Eyes shift, murmurs of agreement and nods of understanding. With each passing second, the tension in his shoulders ease. He shares a glance with Riley who flashes a smile of agreement. 

It’s not a victory yet, but it is progress. And that is enough of a win for today. Even if nothing comes from the meeting, at least he got the conversation started.

After the meeting, Riley heads back to the clinic with a quick fist bump, telling Sebastian that they “killed it". And they had. It went better than he expected it to.

As he makes his way through rounds on the inpatient floor, he spots Kurt walking out of Finley's room. Kurt raises a brow, looking him up and down. 

“You look like you’re about to speed into trial.” He remarks with a low chuckle.

Sebastian hadn't bothered to change out of his ‘dressing to impress’ suit, and of course that is something that Kurt would notice.

“Ha.” Sebastian says, rolling his eyes. “I just had a meeting, trying to change the face of medicine.” 

Kurt quirks his head, a teasing smile curving on his lips “That little shred of glory of saving kids' lives isn’t enough for you?” 

“Definitely not. Have to up my game.” Sebastian tosses the comment over his shoulder casually, keeping the professional appearance at the front of his mind while glancing down at the hospital tablet before walking into his next patient's room. 

It's hours later when he’s wrapping up his case notes for the day that an email pings on his screen approving a pilot group. 

Sebastian smiles to himself and doesn’t even think about letting Riley, or Nick, or anyone else who actually knows what he’s researching know.

He texts the person he wants to share his victories with instead. 

Sebastian: Admin approved the next steps. Get ready to be wowed. 
Kurt: Congrats. I’m impressed (don’t let it go to your head.)
Sebastian: Too late, my head is enormous. 
Kurt: That's not news. 
Sebastian: You know I’m starting to think Nick or Riley would have been a better first text. They’d feed my ego more. 
Kurt: Probably true. But you wouldn’t have smiled the same way. 
Sebastian: That’s an awfully confident assumption. 

Kurt’s right.

When he’s talking to Kurt, he craves that giddy feeling that he feels in his stomach, the way that his cheeks hurt from smiling, and the way he longs to see the sparkle in Kurt’s eyes when he knows he strikes just the right chord within Sebastian. He doesn't feel that way when talking with his friends, or his coworkers, or anyone.

He doesn’t know the last time he felt that way when talking to someone. Maybe he never has. 

He slides his phone into his pocket, closes his charts, and leaves his office with a different breath of confidence than he'd had walking in that morning. 

The next day is filled with soul crushing conversations that drag the day along a never ending road. 

A four year old’s fever breaks and Sebastian lets himself savor the parents' relief for exactly sixty seconds before he swallows it and walks down the hall to his next patient who isn’t as fortunate. 

Another patient’s scans show minimal improvement. Which is better than nothing, but still not enough to let him feel safe. 

And then there’s the little boy whose parents watch with hollow eyes as Sebastian has to explain that this next round is the last in their arsenal.

By the end of the day, the buzzing of the overhead lights and the rhythmic beeping of monitors is so ingrained that it becomes the soundtrack of his commute home. When he gets there, he’s so worked up that he needs to let some of it go. He needs to vent, or hit something. Or both.

He wants to text Kurt. But a text isn’t enough. He needs someone to hear him. He needs to say the words out loud.

They don’t talk on the phone. Ever. Would Kurt answer? Would he be willing to listen?

His thumb hovers momentarily over his contact. He's tired and desperate enough that he doesn’t let himself second guess any longer and presses the call button. 

Kurt answers on the second ring, voice hushed. “Hello?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Sebastian fumbles. 

“No, but Finley’s asleep.”

He winces. He'd forgotten how late it is. “Right.” 

“Did you call for a reason?” Kurt questions. 

“I had another one of those days…” Sebastian mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “Had to tell some parents that their son still isn’t responding to treatment and that we’re basically on our last ditch effort.” 

He breathes, deep and steadying. “I hate how that sounded when I really just mean that I had to tell them that their son is dying in front of them.” 

Kurt’s quiet for a beat, the sound of him shifting on the other end the only thing breaking the silence. 

“Finely’s numbers didn’t look that great after this last round, either.” Kurt replies softly. “They’re talking about moving forward with stem cells. I keep telling myself that waiting means hope.” He swallows, voice shaky. “It’s hope that’s like a thread, if you tug it too hard it just snaps.” 

Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose. Hearing Finley’s in the same boat breaks something open inside of him. He feels the scratch in the back of his throat, eyes burning. 

“It’s so damn unfair.” 

“Yeah.” Kurt whispers. “It is.”

For a while they just listen to each other breathe, Sebastian staring at the ceiling while laying on the foot of his bed. 

It’s almost startling when Kurt breaks the silence. 

“You know I used to think life was unfair in high school when our costume budget only consisted of enough money for fabric and maybe some sequins.” 

“Mine was that the cafeteria at Dalton didn’t stock fresh basil.” Sebastian rubs his forehead, closing his eyes tightly. 

Kurt laughs in a way that makes Sebastian’s heart stumble. “God, we were insufferable.” 

“Correction,” Sebastian starts, “we still are, we are just insufferable with perspective.” 

They stay on the line for hours, neither willing to break the tether between them. It’s familiar, just like when they are texting each other all night. 

But now, Sebastian realizes it's even better. The reactions are immediate. He gets to hear Kurt’s laugh and the way his pitch changes just slightly when he’s trying to out sass Sebastian. 

And, God, if that doesn’t make the entire day better. 

It’s well into the early hours of the morning when Sebastian realizes just how late it’s gotten. That they had been on the phone for almost four hours and he no longer felt the weight of the day so heavy.

Sebastian exhales loudly. “I have to do a biopsy in like 5 hours.”

“You should probably sleep.” Kurt whispers, and the way his tone shifts, soft and compassionate, tugs at Sebastian’s chest. Again.

“Goodnight, Hummel.” He whispers, disconnecting the call. He doesn’t put his phone on to charge, he holds it on his chest and lets the conversation from the last four hours linger as he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

It’s a rainy Tuesday afternoon when Rachel goes into labor. Leaving one hospital to go to another feels a little unearthly. 

“How do you feel?” Kurt asks from the side of Rachel’s bed, running a hand over the back of the baby's head, leaning in to give her a sideways hug.

“Good.” Rachel says, sleepily. “Better than last time. No tearing.”

Kurt smiles appreciatively at the reminder of what she went through to give birth to Finley. Long labor and months of recovery. Hearing that it went smoother this time brings a wave of relief. 

“He’s so small.” Kurt whispers. “I wish they'd stay that way… just a little longer.” 

“He'll be that way for a while at least.” Jesse chimes in and Kurt laughs. 

“You’d be surprised. In a month it'll feel like he’s doubled in size.” 

Holding Andrew comes like a reflex. He props an elbow under his head, keeping him tucked close to his chest. He watches every little twitch of his face as he settles into place while Kurt instinctively starts swaying in place. 

There’s a scratch in the back of his throat as he rocks the baby. So small, innocent, and healthy. 

He’s happy for Rachel and Jesse and the family that they're creating. He’s happy for them. 

Truly. 

Maybe if he says it enough he’ll believe it. 

But part of him can’t deny that he’s also jealous of them. That they get to go home in the morning with a healthy baby boy. That their sleepless nights are going to be filled with cluster feedings and not repeatedly waking up to vitals checks in a panic.

Despite that, he stays with them for hours. Because Rachel is his best friend and he knows how important this moment is for them. He has to be supportive. 

Kurt shows Jesse how to wrap a perfect swaddle. 

“If you make it too loose they’ll startle themselves awake,” he says with practiced ease as he tugs the blanket around the baby’s arms. “Perfect baby burrito means perfect baby sleep. Or perfect-adjacent sleep.” 

He laughs at stories with them, takes pictures for their social media announcement, and gently reminds them that it’s never too early to make their child fashionable.  

He watches as Rachel and Jesse share loving glances, notices how Rachel is already keeping a feeding and diapering journal, and tries to let himself bask in the joy that is filling the room. 

But by the time he’s outside the hospital, the weight he was ignoring in the back of his throat has reached its peak. He rolls his lips together, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing exactly the person who would help take the weight off.

“Don’t tell me you’re calling to ask how to burp a newborn.” Sebastian says as soon as he answers. 

“The baby’s perfect.” Kurt whispers. “So small, and pink, and loud. And I wanted to just be happy for them, but holding him…” he swallows a sob, voice cracking “how do I be happy for them when they get to have his whole life ahead of them and Finley’s fighting just to get well enough to even have a chance to keep fighting?” 

“It sucks.” Sebastian says flatly. 

Kurt chortles, adjusting his phone against his ear. “That’s one way to put it.” 

“I’ll write you an official medical note that excuses you from pretending life is fair.” 

“Thank you. For picking up and not judging.” 

“I only judge your questionable fashion choices.” 

They stay on the line for another hour as Kurt makes his way back to his apartment. 

As he steps over the threshold, he hears the familiar sound of the overhead paging at the hospital in the background. “Crap.” Sebastian says, shuffling quickly.

“Go ahead, Superman.” Kurt says, Sebastian laughs in reply as the call disconnects.

Kurt tosses his phone on his bed, looking around the room that seems like a stranger's space. 

It’s two days before Finley’s stem cell transplant and in preparation for the month of near isolation he’ll be living in, Kurt has been staying at his apartment while Blaine stays in the hospital. 

The past five months have been exhausting in ways that he hadn’t expected. There was a part of him that had hoped that because they’d caught the relapse before she started truly showing symptoms that it would be a quick and easy fight. 

But this time the cancer has been merciless. The treatments are harder. Chemo round after chemo round just trying to get her to a place where they can move forward with other options. 

Kurt struggles with idle hands just like he had all those months ago when preparing to fight this battle all over again. He can’t seem to sit still, the need to move, to do something, itches his limbs. 

He dusts every surface while listening to his uplifting playlist that isn’t uplifting him the way that it used to. He mops the floor and makes sure he’s stocked on disinfectants and sanitizers. 

He looks over the timeline of his day tomorrow. Another day that’s filled with chemo and labs, meetings with coordinators and social workers, all in preparation for what’s to come. It feels equally terrifying and exciting. 

He leans against his kitchen counter and checks his phone for the first time in hours. Jesse had sent a picture of baby Andrew perfectly swaddled. “Thanks for the lessons.” He’d captioned it. 

He swipes to the next notification. A series of messages from Sebastian. 

Sebastian: I know this may overstep 
Sebastian: but I’ve been thinking about our conversation
Sebastian: and I can’t relate to how you feel, but I know it’s normal. Just from listening to Nick vent. He and his wife are both pediatricians but have had like 6 miscarriages and some days they do nothing but well baby visits
Sebastian: Anyway, here’s his number if you want to maybe talk to someone who might understand at least a little better how unfair life is. 

There’s a warmth racing down his spine as reads the messages. The rapid fire nature of them, the way he can imagine the words coming out shakily instead of in Sebastian’s normal steady demeanor, makes Kurt’s fingers tremble lightly and head tip curiously. 

It would be nice to talk to someone who might understand the frustration growing inside of him at the thought that so many people’s lives just get to go on.

But more than that, Sebastian offering a bridge to one of his nearest friends? That felt big. Even though Kurt had met Nick long before he’d met Sebastian. 

Kurt: I’ll allow it. 
 
The fact that Sebastian thought of it was more proof that he was a considerate friend, not just to Kurt but to everyone in his orbit. That behind the sass and the snark was a layer of compassion and kindness. 

Which is why when he spots him pacing in the hospital courtyard the next day Kurt lingers. He watches Sebastian carefully. There is something different in the way he is carrying himself. His shoulders slouched, staring at the ground.

There’s a pull to reach out that Kurt can’t ignore. Sebastian had been something solid for Kurt in recent months. So he steps forward, tentatively, and clears his throat. “Are you pacing to wear a hole in the cement?” 

“It’s better than the alternative.” Sebastian mutters without looking up. Kurt spots the way his hands are balled, tension building in his knuckles.

“Which is?” Kurt questions, stepping into stride with him, steps syncing up instantly.

“Punching a wall.” Sebastian says with a frustrated laugh. He releases his fingers, stretching them. There’s a faint sound of cracking as he does so that tells Kurt he’d been wound up for too long.  

“Yep. Pacing is better. Cement can take it.” Kurt says matter of factly. 

Sebastian’s mouth twitches. It’s almost a smile. And then, he shakes his head, glancing at Kurt and then back to the ground. “I lost a six year old today.” 

“Oh.” Oh. It feels like nothing, but the only thing he could think of to say.

“That’s the third patient I’ve lost in two days.” 

“That—wow. I’m sorry.” 

“I knew it would happen. You don’t go into medicine not knowing it’s just…” Sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “Can’t not blame myself. Maybe if I’d been quicker on an order, got a patient in sooner, watched closer…”

Before this, Kurt hadn’t really thought about the possibilities of Sebastian losing patients. He isn’t sure why it seemed completely impossible, despite the times Sebastian had mentioned the rough days some of his patients had.

But it’s not impossible. Sebastian may be a good doctor, but he isn’t a walking cure. And cancer wins sometimes. And that’s got to be hard for him to deal with when Kurt has watched him pour his all into being a good doctor. 

“It’s not your fault.” Kurt whispers, cautiously. 

Sebastian bites on his lip, tucking his hands in his pocket. “You can’t know that.”

“And neither can you.” Kurt chirps back, softly. “You do what you can. That’s all anyone can do.”

Sebastian scoffs, but when his eyes meet Kurt’s there’s a look that tells him he feels that maybe he’s trying to believe it. 

They walk the courtyard together in silence, the rain sprinkling though the trees in brief spurts, elbows bumping every few steps. 

It all feels too natural. Too calm. The being together and the silence and the way that Kurt keeps catching Sebastian glance over at him. 

It’s curious to him that this moment, just pacing quietly outside the hospital while Sebastian copes with losing a patient is bringing the same stomach churning feeling that the late night flirting and phone calls have. 

Kurt hears a crack of thunder in the distance and he glances up at the sky, grey clouds shifting and the smell of rain looming. 

He is about to spend the better part of a month keeping Finley company in a tiny room that she can’t leave.

He can’t spend that much time alone with his thoughts.

“Sebastian?” He questions tentatively. And it takes every ounce of courage for him to get the next part out: “what are we doing?” 

He prepares himself for a sarcastic reply, something dodging the question. But then Sebastian looks at him with eyes that are still slightly glassy but soft, a playful smile pulling on his lips as he says “Apparently, you’re falling for me.” 

“Right.” Kurt forces a laugh, rolling his eyes and trying to push down the budding anxiety in his stomach “It’s not the other way around at all.” 

Sebastian stops in his tracks. His fingers wrap around Kurt’s wrist, pulling him to face him. There’s a surge racing through Kurt’s veins, every ounce of confidence he once held is lost. 

“Tell me to stop.” Sebastian’s face is so close to him now he can feel his breath grazing his cheeks as his eyes flicker to his lips. 

His heart beat intensifies, stomach dropping. Sebastian isn’t in his normal head space. He’s coping with losing multiple patients. 

But then, Sebastian also shows up when Kurt isn’t thinking rationally. And sometimes, Kurt thinks maybe kissing him would make it better. 

He searches Sebastian’s eyes. It’s as if they had an entire conversation with that single locking gaze before Kurt whispers, “Don’t.” 

It is one simple word and all Sebastian needs. His hand snakes behind Kurt’s neck and then he’s kissing him, tentatively, like he’s scared about what is happening.

Even the tiny brush makes Kurt’s skin tingle in a way it hadn’t in too long. It leaves him wanting more. 

“Your reputation makes me think you can do better than that, Smythe.” He says barely pulling back, voice laced with disbelief.

There’s something new in Sebastian’s eyes. An unmistakable hunger. “You have no idea,” he murmurs.

Sebastian wraps an arm around his back and pulls him close, his lips crashing against Kurt’s with a level of passion that takes him by surprise. 

It is unlike any kiss he’d experienced before. Despite the cold surrounding them, his entire body feels warm. It’s like a perfect dance where they’d had years of practice in place of the months of built up tension. 

When they pull apart Kurt’s face is flushed and he can hardly meet Sebastian’s eye. 

“Better?” Sebastian’s hands are trembling despite his obvious efforts to keep the illusion of being calm. 

“Much. More on par with your reputation.” Kurt’s stomach is doing backflips that intensify when he sees Sebastian’s lips curve into a grin. 

“Come to my place after isolation, I’ll cook for you and buy a way too expensive bottle of wine.”

“One kiss and you’re already propositioning me?” 

“It was two.” Sebastian raises a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I have some class.”

Kurt scrunches his nose, turning his head slightly.

“Anyway, I just mean I don’t want to…” Sebastian hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t want to pretend that this didn’t mean anything to me. So come over. My place is sanitary so you won’t have to worry about bacteria getting back to Finley.” 

“That’s…” Kurt smiles. A real smile. “That’s actually really thoughtful.”

“All part of the package, Hummel.” Sebastian pulls his phone out of his pocket as it buzzes rapidly. “I have a patient in emergency, so I have to run like now before they get screwed by the emergency doctor.” 

“Go.” Kurt says nodding towards the building. 

As he watches Sebastian jog away, Kurt lingers in the courtyard, still trying to wrap his head around the moment. When he’d approached Sebastian he looked like he was on the edge of a cliff. But watching him leave, he seems like an entirely different person. Someone who was on the cliff intentionally, taking in the beauty.

And the kiss was something even better than he’d imagined. The drips of rain on his cheeks, the vulnerability, the way that Sebastian’s lips felt both inviting and reckless.

He knows he needs to go back upstairs. He’d told Finley he’d only be a few minutes, was just going to stretch his legs and make a phone call to his agent (which he didn’t do). 

But he also just wants to sit in this moment a little bit longer. 

He bites on his lip, smiling, and checks his phone before heading back inside. 

Sebastian: First, thank you for letting me wallow. 
Sebastian: Second, can you spare a minute before I leave for the night? I might need to bank another kiss if I have to wait a month for more after that. 

He doesn’t hesitate to reply.  

Kurt: Come find me. 

Chapter Text

The day of Finley’s stem cell transplant brings up a lot of uncertain feelings within Kurt. 

On one hand, he knows how difficult this next stage is going to be. Everything he’s read has set his expectations incredibly low for it to be a smooth few weeks. He keeps feeling like every step they’re taking lately is just putting duct tape on a sinking ship. 

But on the other hand, it brings hope that this is going to be the miracle that they have been longing for. That they won’t be on this journey for another year or longer. He’s heard how difficult this stage is for so many families but so many also come out on the other side thankful that they did it. That the ship is repaired and en route to its final destination. 

Kurt had thought the visitor guidelines were rough during the ICU stint a few weeks ago, but hearing everything that was going to be required of him and Blaine while she is in isolation just proves that this is an entirely different ball game. 

It’s little things that he’d taken for granted before that are shaking him the most. Like the fact that he has to leave her room to eat or go to the bathroom and that they have sterile water for her to bathe in. 

Even the room itself is equipped with special filters to help lower the risk of infections, and there’s strict regulations on sanitizing and the protective equipment anyone in her room has to wear. 

He knows most of it is precautionary, but the fact that they have to be this precautionary scares him. 

Sebastian texts him halfway through the first day and Kurt purses his lips together to hide his smile. 

Sebastian: Happy re-birthday to my favorite Hummel. 
Kurt: She’s trying to nap right now but apparently this room “feels funny”. 
Sebastian: It’s that sweet sweet taste of clean air 
Kurt: She’s a New York kid, she’s never truly experienced clean air like us midwest folk 
Sebastian: Let the record show I heard you saying that in a thick cowboy accent
Kurt: I obviously did. 

And that’s how it goes for a few days. 

Sebastian texts to check in on them once or twice a day just like he had when she had had the flu months ago. Kurt’s replies are a mix of short, snappy, or flirty depending on how the day went.

Kurt leaves the room twice a day for meals. And also to maybe catch a glimpse of Sebastian. 

On Day 7 Kurt’s halfway to the cafeteria when he sees him for the first time since their kiss a week ago. He’s talking with Riley and three other providers Kurt doesn’t recognize. 

Sebastian is holding himself as confidently as ever, one hand holding the hospital tablet, the other gesturing animatedly. Even when he’s under the fluorescent lighting and wearing dingy hospital issued scrubs the second Kurt sees him his neck warms and his heart rate quickens. His hair perfectly sculpted, his nose turned up in obvious distaste, so perfectly Sebastian. 

Kurt doesn’t know if he wants to be caught looking but he can’t stop himself. His pace slows, not enough to be obvious but enough that he can savor the moment. 

Sebastian turns his head slightly and catches his gaze. He maintains his professional composure but the look in his eyes betrays it momentarily. They shift to something lighter, happier, and the corner of his mouth lift upward just slightly. Enough to remain inconspicuous, but also enough that Kurt noticed.

Even the small glance from across a hospital corridor makes Kurt’s stomach flip. 

That’s all it is, just a lingering glance, but it feels like everything to Kurt in the moment. 

Things are getting harder each day that passes. The team says that they’re in one of the hardest days of the process, but once they get through this hurdle, every day will start to get a little bit easier for Finley. 

He’s trying to believe that it will. 

Kurt's pretty sure Sebastian’s smile is going to be in his mind all day like a song he can’t get out of his head. 

And that makes it a little easier to find that spark of hope.

As he continues his walk to the cafeteria, he sees a new message on his phone that makes his smile even wider. 

Sebastian: Explain to me how you manage to make “looks like he got trampled by a moose” attractive.
Kurt: Hairspray and awful lighting. Gives the appearance of a man who has seen battle. 

The days continue to pass in monotonous blurs of multiple lab draws, check-ins, and trying to keep Finley sane while she’s slowly rebuilding herself.

Three days later, it’s 6:45 in the morning when they come in for morning labs. 

The knock on the door wakes Finley and she groans. It was the kind of sound Kurt hadn’t heard from her in months, loud and disgruntled. 

“Nooo.” She whines, pulling her blanket over her head. 

“Sorry, Finners.” The words sound hollow as they leave the phlebotomist’s mouth. It makes Kurt’s stomach drop because it seems like he wants to do this even less than she does. 

Finley pushes back again, stubbornness raging through every movement she does.

They have to call in her nurse and tech to help. Kurt feels his heart falling lower in his chest with every strain she does. 

He wishes he could just tell them that they’re done: she’s expressing discomfort and wants to sleep. Leave her alone. 

This is his baby. Curled up in a fetal position under a hospital blanket not wanting another set of labs taken. His heart is shattered into tiny pieces all over the floor watching it all unfold. 

But he can’t tell them to stop. She’s too at risk, the lab work is necessary.

So he stands idly by in the corner of the room, listening to all three caregivers try to bribe and sweet talk her. It only makes her protest harder. Kurt hugs his arms across his chest, taps his thumb on his bicep repeatedly. His vision is foggy as thick tears form. 

When they ask if there’s anyone she’s willing to let take her labs she asks for Dr. Stedley. And then cries hysterically when she remembers that he can’t help her now. 

Kurt hates that. Hates that Stedley’s retirement came at the most unfortunate time for his family and really hates that he’s mad at him for it. 

They offer to call Dr. Grace instead. Finley refuses. But after a few minutes of rapid breathing she counters unexpectedly with Dr. Smythe through broken sobs. 

It’s nearly an hour into the ordeal when he gets there, crouched next to Finley’s bed, holding her hand while they pull her labs. Kurt watches as his gloved thumb gently caresses the side of her hand and the rise and fall of her chest shifts into a more steady rhythm. 

After labs are done and it’s just the three of them the sobs start again, frustrated that she didn’t get a say in seeing Dr. Grace. Because she likes him better. He talks to her and Dr. Grace only talks to her dads. 

The guilt hits Kurt like a tidal wave, abrupt and lingering long after he hears Sebastian say, “I’m always gonna be here for you even if I’m not your doctor.” He gives a sympathetic smile from behind his mask. Kurt can tell by the way his forehead crinkles slightly, the way he tips his head, and the softness in his eyes. 

“She’s going through hell.” Sebastian whispers as he goes to leave. Kurt nods, it’s all he can do. His throat is tight, eyes burning. If he tries to respond he’ll break. And he can’t break in front of Finley. 

Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder in that acknowledging type of way that doctors do. But then, instead of pulling back, he lets his hand drop slowly, fingers brushing so slightly against Kurt’s arm. The touch is quick but full of the unspoken between them. 

Three hours later, things have settled to a point where he can feel his brain processing a little bit more. And he knows he needs to reach out to Sebastian, to thank him for being the grounding presence that Finley needed today even though he had no obligation to do so. 

Kurt: Thank you for coming today.
Sebastian: It was quite the chore coming up to see you and Finley.
Kurt: You can admit it, you were dying to see me in full protective gear. 
Sebastian: Not quite what I was hoping you’d be wearing the next time I saw you.
Kurt: My daughter is literally right next to me. 

Kurt glances down to Finley, who is curled up in her bed, watching a movie while half asleep. He reaches over and rubs her back reassuringly and she shifts lightly at the touch. 

Her energy has been drained and she spends most of the day asleep. When she’s been awake she’s constantly complaining about having to be hooked up to her IV, the lingering mouth sores, the fact that she can’t leave her room, can’t see her dads faces, and how miserable she is. 

Kurt just wants to take it all away. 

He looks back to Sebastian’s text and has to hold back the gasp in his throat. 

Sebastian: Don’t make it weird, I was thinking about how I wanted to see you in that suit you wore to that benefit.
Sebastian: Made your ass look divine. I don’t know how I didn’t kiss you that night

Kurt covers his mouth to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He bites on the top of his finger while thinking back to that day. How emotional it was for him letting the world in like that. And how Sebastian seemed genuinely moved by his speech, and the way he kept feeling the need to watch Sebastian from across the room and the way that he would smile when their gazes met. 

It all feels different now knowing that Sebastian wasn’t just seeing him as a good performer, but someone he was attracted to. It makes every little shift in their friendship over the past few months feel stronger, laced with intentions and desires that he hadn’t even understood.  

Kurt: Yeah, you really fumbled that one, I did look good.
Sebastian: I fully intend to correct that mistake as soon as I can. 
Kurt: You seem rather confident that I’ll let you.
Sebastian: I didn’t see you asking me to stop the other times I’ve kissed you.
Kurt: Maybe I want you to work a little harder this time. 

Kurt’s surprised when his phone lights up with an incoming call from Sebastian. 

“You know this doesn’t count as working harder.” Kurt says when he answers. 

“I just had something on my mind…” Sebastian says slowly.  “Don't beat yourself up about what she said, okay? You made the right call.” 

“How…” Kurt shakes his head, standing up and walking across the room. “How did you know I was dwelling on that?”

“Because I know you.” Sebastian replies immediately, his tone compassionate. “I saw the shift in your eyes when she said it earlier. She’s upset right now, but in a few weeks she won’t care anymore.”

“Maybe.” Kurt can barely get the word out. Because right now he isn’t so sure that she’ll ever forgive him for putting her through this. 

“She loves me. Imagine how excited she’ll be to learn that you sneak off when she’s asleep to make out with me.”

Kurt nearly chokes, his cheeks warm and pulse rapid at the thought. “I do not do that.” 

“You could, though. I’m just here... Lonely in the on-call room.”  

“That sounds…” Kurt lets out a breathy laugh, licking his top lip. “...unsanitary at best.” 

“I’ll shower you in sanitizer after?” 

“Yeah this definitely doesn’t count as working harder.” Kurt clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Might actually take off points.” 

“You’re totally blushing at the idea of making out with me.” Sebastian teases. 

“You wish.” Kurt bites back.

“Hummel, you blush if you see someone’s elbow.” 

“I do not.” Kurt’s pitch increases slightly with each word he speaks. 

“How red are you right now?” Sebastian continues playfully. 

Kurt groans through his smile, leaning his head back slightly, ”I’m hanging up now.” 

He doesn’t give Sebastian a chance to reply before he disconnects the call. 

It only takes thirty seconds for Sebastian to text Kurt. 

Sebastian: I find it endearing how easily I can make you blush. 
Kurt: I’m over this. Have fun being lonely in the on call room. 

Kurt laughs as he types his reply. He does blush easily. Not out of embarrassment or being naive, it’s just something he does. And he kind of likes that Sebastian has noticed enough to tease him (affectionately) about it. 

Two hours later, Kurt gets a phone call about a staged reading in a few weeks. He has to do that math quickly in his head to see if it’s even possible for him. 

He’s told that they’re willing to set up a full production team call with him and discuss what they can do to ease his mind about accepting. 

The offer itself is enough for Kurt to start seriously considering it. 

He spends the next few hours online, researching the creative team. The director, Hailey, seems young and ambitious. She’s done a few off-broadway and regional shows and has glowing reviews from critics and actors alike. 

The musical is written by two NYU students, who both have inviting presences online but this is the first “real” thing they’ve written. 

But the story and the brief character notes that appear in his email at the end of the night give him butterflies in a way he hasn’t experienced before when thinking about a show. 

He sleeps that night dreaming about the future. A world where he’s moving audiences in a theater, where he teases Sebastian relentlessly, where his daughter is thriving, and he's happy. 

Chapter Text

On Day 17, Kurt can’t sleep. His neck is aching, shoulder muscles stiff, and the soundtrack of the hospital is still ringing too loudly in his ears.

It’s the middle of the night and on a whim he texts Sebastian, just to put words out there and maybe that’ll be the cure all for his insomnia. 

Kurt: I’ve basically lived in this hospital for half a year. At what point does sleeping here get easier?

Sebastian calls him immediately.

Kurt doesn’t even think before accepting the call with a smile “You know it’s 2:30, right?”

Sebastian sighs a little too dramatically, explaining that Moray had a parent call the after-hours line and they flat out refused to talk to anyone who wasn’t a ‘medical doctor, none of this fake ass nurses pretending’. The annoyance at the disrespect for his colleague is clear and Kurt files it away as another reason he’s drawn to Sebastian.

“Anyway, I’m wide awake because they wanted to ask a very simple question.” Sebastian sighs. “I’ll talk you to sleep.”

The conversation shifts to their usual lighthearted discourse quickly after that.

They talk about how Sebastian and Nick became close. How it involved a drunken almost hook up, because of course it did with Sebastian. And how it was interrupted by Nick calling his sister in a panic when he got an alert that her blood sugar levels were in the “dangerously low” territory. 

Kurt listens intently to the way Sebastian talks about the evolution of his relationship with Nick, to hear the way his voice is lighter through every insult of endearment Sebastian throws at his best friend’s expense. 

They talk about how Nick met his wife. 

“Oh you’ll love this story. It’s full of that fate and romance stuff…” Sebastian starts, and then goes on with dramatic flair, telling Kurt how Nick was in his first year of residency and Emma was in her final year of med school. Nick was oblivious and fumbling over everything while Emma was a hot-headed fourth year. He leaned into it, always pretending he didn’t know things when he really did after a while just to get her to flirt with him. 

They talk for another hour. Kurt’s voice is hushed and he has to keep muffling his laughter to not bother Finley, who was finally sleeping after another long day of her being miserably uncomfortable. 

As he clicks his phone off for the night, he longs for this stage of normalcy to be over. As he tries to sleep, he stares at the ceiling with blank eyes, and counts the remaining days in his head. If everything goes well they have 21 days left in the hospital and then they’re back home and readjusting in the comfort of their own space. 

It becomes a nightly routine for Kurt and Sebastian to talk on the phone after Finley falls asleep. 

Some nights they talk endlessly, other nights it's brief. But every day ends with them hearing about each others day. It makes everything feel a little bit easier to deal with for the both of them. 

And as the days move on, Finley starts getting a little happier. She's doing art projects and having conversations and even starts guessing her blood pressure again. 

On Day 29 Kurt and Blaine get the news that Finley can be transferred out of the isolation room. Kurt’s heart soars. Blaine jumps for joy like a little boy on Christmas. 

It’s not the finish line, but they’re on the last lap and the feeling brings a rush of adrenaline. Kurt opens his phone to text Sebastian but the thread shifts with a new message from him instead. 

Sebastian: Have to take an emergency trip to Ohio for a few days. When I get back you’ll be done with isolation? 

Everything slows down in his mind. Kurt bites on the inner corner of his lip thoughtfully as red flags pop up the more he re-reads the message. 

He calls with a racing pulse instead of letting his mind wander.

“Dr. Smythe.” The answer comes abruptly, the busy sound of chatter and airport announcements echoing in the background. 

“I believe you’re supposed to say ‘Dr. Weasel’. That was your official designation, after all.” 

“Ha.” Sebastian says dryly. “Didn’t check the caller ID, trying to navigate the airport. Otherwise I would have had a much better greeting for you.” 

“Is everything okay?” Kurt slips out of Finley’s room into the hallway, shoving his mask into his pocket. “Emergency trip to Ohio?” 

He hears Sebastian exhale through his lips. “I don’t know.” 

“What’s going on?”

Sebastian swallows hard and Kurt’s heart rate picks up when the silence lingers a beat too long. “My parents were in a car accident.”

“Are they okay?” Kurt realizes it’s a stupid question as soon as he asks it. If they were okay, Sebastian would not be leaving the state abruptly like he is, he wouldn’t sound as distressed as he does, and he probably wouldn’t have even said anything to Kurt. 

“I don’t know. I called the hospital and the nurse didn’t want to tell me anything over the phone. Which is usually not good news.” 

“Can I do anything for you?” 

There’s a long pause where all Kurt can hear is the chaos in the background and Sebastian’s broken breathing. It makes Kurt’s stomach shift uncomfortably.

“Just keep Finley healthy so I can see you when I get back.” He says softly. 

Kurt hopes he can do that.

When the call disconnects Kurt feels jittery. He taps his phone against his palm, clicking his tongue and trying to understand the emotions running through him. 

He types a quick “keep me updated?” text and shifts his mind to the move ahead of them.

All day Kurt keeps his main focus on Finley, because this is a major milestone for them. She’s not 100%, she won’t be for quite some time still. But now she’s getting a little more freedom. Her energy’s slowly returning, and instead of walking the same 20 feet she has an entire unit at her disposal. He cheers with her, watches with a wide grin as Blaine carries her on a victory lap around the tiny room "one last time", and lets himself savor the small victory. 

Through every little step, though, the echo of his call with Sebastian remains. The worry and sadness in his tone, the lack of smart remarks, and the way he asked Kurt to make sure he could see him when he got back all leaves an uneasy feeling deep within him.

It’s five hours from when they last spoke that he gets a call from Sebastian. 

“Hey.” Kurt says tentatively, watching Finley talk up a storm with her new nurse. 

“So my dad had a heart attack… while he was driving.” Sebastian’s voice is hoarse in a way Kurt’s never heard it before. It cracks the edges of his heart. 

He listens with tears in his eyes as Sebastian recounts everything he’s heard. How his parents were driving back from their book club when his dad had a heart attack. There’s a record of an emergency call from his moms phone. She’d taken her seat belt off when she realized what was happening, trying to get control of the car, and was thrown when they hit the median. 

His dad didn’t make it to the hospital and his mom’s in a critical state. 

Kurt’s voice drops as he stares out the window. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say or how to help navigate this pain for him. Because the truth is: there’s nothing to do. Nothing to say. When you lose someone unexpectedly like this the grief is different. No one can fix it. So he says, “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.” 

“I should call my brother…” Sebastian says softly. “But can I… can I call you back after? You’re the only one…” his voice breaks off. “I just want to talk to you is all.” 

“Call me as soon as you’re off with him.” Kurt’s voice is steady and it takes everything in him to keep it that way. He wants to cry for Sebastian. Because he’s dealing with something heavier than he should have to alone. 

He continues to feel restless once he’s off the phone, his mind racing to try and figure out what he can do. Because he has to do something.

Kurt slides onto the floor next to Finley who is working rapidly on a birthday card for her nurse. He comments encouragingly on every stroke of marker and helps her spell out the words she doesn’t know. It’s the distraction he needs while he processes. His beautiful daughter healthy enough to show her heart in the form of messy birthday cards. 

30 minutes later, he’s sitting in the corner chair staring blankly at the wall and bouncing his foot rapidly when the door creaks open.

Blaine looks Kurt up and down and says with humor in his voice “You look more gloomy than normal.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I'd expect you to be happier,” Blaine slides onto the window seat next to Kurt with a grin, “you can show your clothes off again.” 

He smiles briefly at the reminder of gowns and masks and gloves all hours of the day turning into a thing of the past. 

Then he nods his head to the door. Blaine sticks his bottom lip out and raises his brows curiously, but Kurt doesn’t give him a chance to protest or question before he walks through the door. 

Once in the hallway and out of earshot of Finley Kurt says with a hurried whisper, “I think I need to go to Ohio.”

Blaine’s taken aback, his voice hesitant, “Uh, why?”

“Because Sebastian’s there. His parents…” Kurt’s throat catches and he shakes his head. “He’s alone. His brothers in France and his dad just died and his Mom doesn’t look great.” 

“Shit.” Blaine's eyes widen. “Yeah, you gotta go.” 

“It’s not crazy? What if something happens with her and I’m not here…” Kurt’s gesturing quickly with one hand, the other brushing through his hair in a panic. 

“Stop.” Blaine shakes his head and puts a steady hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “She’s doing amazing. Have a little faith. Sebastian shouldn’t be alone, and who else is going to be able to run to his aid the same way?” 

Nick probably would be there as soon as he could. But Sebastian wouldn’t ask him to, he’ll probably downplay his feelings because Nick’s got his own stuff going on. 

Maybe he’s downplaying them with Kurt right now for the same reasons. 

But something is telling Kurt that Sebastian isn’t going to handle this well. He remembers what it was like when he lost his mom. When his dad had a heart attack. All of the reflecting and the wishing he’d done things differently. 

Sebastian would probably feel all of those things even harder than Kurt had. He talks to his parents often, and he has years of medical knowledge that he’s probably going to blame himself for not noticing signs. 

And Kurt needs to be there to help him remember how irrational that is. 

With a heavy sigh, he goes and says goodbye to Finley with what feels like a thousand hugs and kisses and makes Blaine promise to send hourly updates. To which Blaine laughs and says that he’ll have her call him every day and he’ll only send updates if anything changes. 

He calls Nick while packing. 

“Mr. Hummel, happy to hear from you.” Nick has that warm and friendly kind of voice that makes him the perfect pediatrician and Kurt is thankful, it makes him easy to talk to. 

Kurt doesn't beat around the bush. “Have you talked to Sebastian?” 

Nick’s tone falls flat. “Yeah, I assume you have, too.” 

“Yeah.” Kurt feels his pulse twitching in his wrist as his grip tightens around his phone. “I need you to work your best friend magic and find out what hospital his mom is in. He can’t be alone right now.” 

“Are you…” Nick coughs, “You’re going?” 

“Yes. I’ve been through this. He shouldn’t be alone. And I can be there by morning.” 

“He’s pretending he’s made of steel with me right now. Emma and I are talking about going but it’s… he’d rather it be you, I think.” 

Kurt doesn’t say anything, humming instead. He’d rather it be him, too. 

A message pops up on his phone thirty minutes later. 

Nick: Wexner. Emma offered to send his mom the “most obnoxious fake ass bouquet out there”, so I don’t think he expects anyone to come except a fake-flower delivery man. 
Kurt: Thank you. I might fall in love with your wife. 
Nick: She’s great, but I don’t share. And neither does Seb. 
Nick: Let me know when you get there and how he is really.

Kurt gets to Ohio at 4am and sleeps for about four hours before he calls Sebastian. 

“Did you get any sleep?” He asks immediately once Sebastian answers. 

“Not really.” Kurt’s heart drops at the difference in his tone. It’s soft, shattered, something Kurt has never heard from Sebastian. 

“Are you at the hospital?” 

“No, I’m… at home… I’m going to meet with the mortuary in an hour.” Sebastian chuckles sadly. “Should be quick, my dad was very organized. Had everything planned. Paid for his and my mom’s plot 20 years ago. He went with Swinton." 

Kurt’s familiar with the name. A small family owned mortuary that was popular among upper class families in the area. Kurt types the address in the gps on his iPad. 

“Sounds very fancy.” 

“That’s the kinda guy he was.” 

“There’s a cute coffee shop near there.” Kurt mentions while scrolling through the area on the map. “You should go get yourself a drink and a croissant before the meeting.” 

Sebastian is quiet. Kurt can hear the uneven breaths on the other end and lets him have the moment. The way his breathing is shaky, the times Kurt can hear him clear his throat, the subtle sounds of trying to say something but nothing coming out. Eventually, a barely audible “Thanks. For calling.” 

“Of course. Whatever you need, okay?” 

40 minutes later Kurt’s sitting outside the funeral home restlessly waiting for Sebastian. His mind is wandering as he watches the cars drive swiftly down the road in front of him, teeth chattering lightly and every limb seems to be trembling — from nerves or from the cold winter air he’s not sure. 

When Sebastian walks up Kurt watches his face shift rapidly. Shock and confusion trace every one of his features and there’s a new vulnerability in his eyes “Please tell me I’m not hallucinating.” 

“You’re not.” Kurt feels Sebastian’s body loosen as he pulls him into a hug.

“What about Finley?” Sebastian mutters into his shoulder. 

“She’s okay.” Kurt reassures, rubbing Sebastian’s back. “I’m worried about you right now.” 

Kurt realizes the weight the words carry as he says them. Because Finley had been his one and only concern for two and a half years. There hadn’t been space for anyone else. Not even himself.

But now not only was she doing well enough that Kurt could split his worry but there was someone else who was important enough to him that he would. 

Chapter Text

When Sebastian got the call that his parents had been in a car accident there was an immediate sense that his life was about to change in unmeasurable ways. 

Instead of having dinner with Kurt, he’s pacing outside a hospital in Ohio with unsteady hands and a brain that won't... brain properly. It just sits there, feeling like cream of wheat, useless and messy. The wind whistles in his ear and whips his hair while he’s trying to figure out what to do and how to feel.

Because his dad died yesterday. His dad, who he talked to at least once a week, who always reminded him how proud of him he was, and who fought with him to be a decent human being.

His mom is in ICU with severe brain damage and a “slim chance of full recovery” which in his experience is usually doctor code for “probably brain dead but we can’t say that without more tests”. His mom who was compassionate, and caring, and made amazing cinnamon rolls, and never once made Sebastian doubt his worth.

At least he has Kurt here now. Kurt left Finley’s bedside, the place he’d been virtually glued to for years, because he knew Sebastian was alone.

Sebastian's pretty sure Kurt would never know what that means to him.

He wants to say thank you. He wants to tell him how much better he feels knowing someone is here to share in his pain. Someone to hold him together on the sidewalk outside of this stupid freaking hospital in this stupid cruel world that is taking two of his favorite people from him.

But he can't actually say anything. He tries to get words out but they keep catching in his throat, knotted tightly between cries that he just can’t let free.

At one point, Kurt reaches over and puts his hand on Sebastian’s bicep to stop him from pacing. “You don’t have to be bulletproof for me. It’s okay to be human.” 

He bites down on his tongue, emotion building at Kurt’s gentle reminder of conversations they’d had in the past. 

“You don’t have to keep going to your pacing place.” Kurt’s whisper is light, almost playful, and laced in sincerity.

Sebastian knows that but it is hard to accept that his parents are gone. That they’re never going to meet their grandkids. That they’re never going to see him change the world for burnt out parents. That they’re never going to meet Kurt, the person who makes him feel ways he never imagined possible.

Kurt is probably the only person in the world who truly understands how he feels, and even with him encouraging Sebastian to let himself feel this loss, it's just... not that simple. He doesn't know how. 

Kurt’s hand is on the side of Sebastian’s face now, warm and soft and smells faintly of moisturizer in a comforting sort of way. His thumb rubs right under Sebastian’s eye, wiping away the single tear that’s fallen. Sebastian turns his head slightly, leaning into the touch, and kisses Kurt’s palm softly with the corner of his mouth. It’s all that he can do to show appreciation right now.

Sebastian really just needs a double shot of whiskey and to never feel like this again. (Which, he won't... because his parents are gone.) 

He insists Kurt stay at his parents house with him. The excuse he gives is that the drive to his Dad’s in Lima is too far and there’s plenty of space in the empty house. 

But the real reason is because Sebastian doesn’t want to be alone. Doesn’t want the memories of his parents home to keep him up all night. The echo of his mom's heels clapping against the tile floor and his dad coming home from work every day pretending to be in a good mood but his brows constantly creased in frustration. 

He can’t be alone with those memories. 

Kurt suggests they put something on and they end up watching some movie musical with Ryan Gosling in it. He leans back into the couch and puts his arm around Sebastian so casually that he chooses to ignore the unsteadiness in Kurt’s breathing.  

Sitting on the couch with Kurt’s arm around him is comforting in ways Sebastian can’t even begin to comprehend. No one has been like this with him before. None of the people he’s dated in the past cared to share this type of domesticity before and honestly, Sebastian never really sought it out, either. 

But in the wake of his parents' accident Kurt’s fingers lacing through his and the fabric of his shirt brushing the back of Sebastian’s neck is enough for him to feel safe.

He leans into the hold hesitant at first, but after the opening song of the musical has concluded, he's completely melted into Kurt’s side, like a hand in a perfectly sized glove. 

At some point in the movie he shifts from leaning into Kurt’s side to having his head laying on Kurt’s lap. Kurt’s hands run through his hair gently, careful of the small tangles from the wind earlier, and Sebastian closes his eyes to lean into the soothing feeling.

He isn’t sure when he falls asleep. But the next thing he knows he wakes up to his phone ringing with his head still resting on Kurt’s thighs. 

“Ignore it.” Kurt whispers when he shifts, his thumb brushing across his brow. “Just sleep. You need it.” 

Sebastian groans, throwing one arm around Kurt’s waist as he rolls onto his side, burying his face in Kurt’s hips. 

Sebastian hasn’t “just ignored” his phone since before he was in residency. If the phone rings, he answers. That’s just the way it goes. 

But the way Kurt’s voice is soft and encouraging, his body warm and comfortable? He’ll ignore his phone every day for the rest of his life for 10 more minutes of laying just like this. 

The next afternoon, Kurt calls to check on Finley. He says there’s been no change: she’s slowly getting more energy, sassing again, and insisting that Blaine does not spend the night in her room. 

Sebastian’s brother FaceTime’s him to talk through logistics. He has plans to fly in, arriving the day after next. They’ll talk with his moms doctors and come up with a plan together. 

After, he stays on the line just to “catch up”. Something that they don’t do very often. Or ever. 

“C'est ton copain?” Alexander asks when Kurt sneezes on the other side of the room. 

Sebastian shakes his head, glancing at Kurt with a sheepish smile. “Pas encore.”

“Not yet?” Kurt questions ten minutes later when Sebastian slides his phone into his pocket 

Sebastian’s brow raises as he leans against the counter. 

“Does that mean you’re interested in calling me your boyfriend?”

Sebastian’s cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. “I forget you’re pretty good in French.” 

“Are you blushing?” Kurt asks with wide eyes. 

Sebastian looks away bashfully. Of course Kurt would notice. And of course he would call it out, giving Sebastian a taste of his own medicine was sort of Kurt’s specialty. 

“Oh my god, you are! I didn’t know you were capable of that.” Kurt crosses his arms over his chest, smile wide, leaning against the counter next to him.

Sebastian leans in slightly, tone low.  “I think I’ve made it pretty obvious that I’m interested in you.”

Kurt's expression changes, a little less playful and a little more serious. He can feel Kurt’s breath shift, his attempts to level the tremor in his words. “I didn’t want to assume.” 

“Now you don’t want to assume things about me?” Sebastian chuckles, searching Kurt’s eyes. “Proud of you.”

Sebastian watches Kurt roll his lips together. Notices the way he shifts his weight nervously. 

“Can you…” Kurt fumbles over his words, looking sideways as he pulls on the edge of his sleeve. “What are you looking for here?”

Everything. He wants to say. He wants it all. 

“I like what we’ve been doing. I want to keep it going. Your sass and checking in with each other and being there when times are hard. I want to watch you be an amazing father to that feisty little girl that's just like you.” 

Kurt shifts again, glancing at Sebastian and then over his shoulder to the wall behind him. Like it’s too hard to hold his gaze right now. 

Sebastian can’t bring himself to stop, he’s like a waterfall spilling out all the aspects of everything he wants with Kurt, things that surprise even himself. “I want to watch you do that lip swishy thing you do when you’re over thinking and I want to see you bite your cheek when you’re trying not to snap at your delusional ex-husband.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, snorting quietly. 

“I want to hold your hand instead of watching you fidget when you’re nervous and I want to rip all your clothes off and insult every single layer as I do because they’re ridiculous and it’s equally ridiculous how good they make you look. And also I want you to pretend to be offended but actually turned on because that’s the kind of thing you’re into.” 

Kurt’s breath catches and his eyes continue to look around the room at everything but Sebastian. 

The silence feels like eternity before he sees Kurt’s shoulders rise and fall slowly. And then, he’s looking at him, and Sebastian’s heart soars in the kind of way he’d never felt before. It felt euphoric. 

Kurt looks at Sebastian’s lips and then back to his eyes in a second. Sebastian feels his heart beating faster, louder, a crescendo that he feels deep into his bones. His knees are weak and he’s starting to feel sweat beading on his forehead. 

He swallows, trying to keep his composure. Or regain it. 

“Thanks for the clarification.” Kurt reaches for Sebastian’s hand and pulls him closer, slowly, his eyes never leaving the lock with Sebastian’s. “I want you to remember all of that when I get difficult and try to run away."

The kiss that follows is slow, their lips parting just enough to let in the kind of emotional intimacy they’re building. 

It feels too perfect the way Sebastian’s hand fits on the small of Kurt’s back, the way his lips taste sweet and his hair smells like nutmeg. The way he can hear his unsteady breathing, feel the trembling in his biceps as he pulls Kurt’s body flush with his. It feels all consuming—in this moment there is nothing else. No cancer, no death, no ex-husbands not carrying their share of the load. 

The single kiss feels more intimate than any moment in Sebastian’s life before. It ignites something in his soul, something fiery and he is determined to never let it go. 

When they pull apart, they share a small laugh before Kurt abruptly tells Sebastian he’s going to call Finley and walks away with a sheepish smile. 

Sebastian swipes his lower lip with his thumb, breathing slowly as the feeling of kissing Kurt lingers for the rest of the night. 

Sebastian somehow finds the courage to ask Kurt how he coped with losing his mom the next morning.  Kurt is honest: he didn’t cope with it until adulthood. As a child, he and his dad just lived in survival mode. As a teen, he didn’t think it was weighing on him anymore. 

But the truth was that he carried the weight with him for too long. It wasn’t until after the breakup with Blaine that he let himself feel the losses of his mom and Finn and how those affected the decisions he was making.

“That’s not helpful!” Sebastian groans playfully. “I need something to feel normal and you’re supposed to be the expert on loss.”

“You shouldn’t feel normal right now.” 

“Stop being wise and come sit with me.” Sebastian mutters, taking Kurt’s hand in his and kisses his knuckle gently. Kurt’s smile turns sympathetic, eyes bright with compassion as he slides into the chair next to him. 

His mom officially passes two days after the accident as an organ donor. Silent tears drip down Sebastian’s face for hours. Kurt is next to him the entire evening, rubbing small circles on the back of his shoulder blade, kissing the crown of his head, and muttering softly that he’s here for him. 

Kurt goes back to New York after three days so he can be with Finley when she gets discharged. 

Sebastian hates that he can't be there to celebrate with them. He wants to hug Kurt and Blaine and Finley because they are so close to winning. So close to the finish line. 

And then, a week later Kurt’s back at his side at his parents funeral. It’s been twelve days since his Dad passed and it simultaneously feels like no time has passed and an eternity ago.

The funeral home has red carpet that’s slightly scratchy and seems to hold the smell of every single flower that makes its way through. The lights are too bright for his liking and he feels like he can feel the sweat of every single person in the room on his skin.

This moment is what makes it real for him. All of his parents' loved ones hug him with sympathetic smiles and rehearsed "they’re in a better place" comments before the service starts. 

Sebastian manages not to cry during the talk from Maureen, his mother’s best friend. His leg bounces rapidly the entire time and when Kurt reaches over and grabs his hand he feels himself steadying with every swipe his thumb does. 

It doesn’t stop the tears in his eyes when Alexander gives his eulogy, though. He shares a story about his parents poking fun at Sebastian for the reckless things he did as a teenager.

“Nothing stopped Sebastian. Not Dad’s arguments, Mom’s soft spoken lectures, or me trying to literally smack sense into him. So one day, Dad sat with me and Mom and said ‘that kid is too reckless so maybe it’s time we showed him what reckless looks like’ and he stopped talking to Sebastian all together for two weeks. And when he started talking to him again? He put on the worst teenage impression and acted just like 16 year old Sebastian for a month. He even got the people at the office to join.” 

Sebastian rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended at the reminder but really it just makes him miss his parents and the way they always did whatever they could to encourage him to be better. 

He doesn’t really cry until that night, when Alex is on his way back home to France where his wife is pregnant with twins and he’s alone with Kurt in their house without his parents. 

“You know,” he starts, trying his best to sound normal, “in high school if I had the house to myself and a very attractive man next to me, I’d be having sex in every room.” 

“That sounds like something you would have done in high school.” 

“One day my dad looked me dead in the eye at dinner and goes ‘how do you like eating dinner on a table me and your mother had sex on?’” Sebastian tries to laugh but it sounds more like a cry. His throat burns as he speaks. 

“My mom was so embarrassed. But my dad pressed on. H-He..” his throat catches and he swallows down the sobs. “He goes… ‘next time you bring a kid home, keep him in your bed.’” 

Kurt doesn’t say anything but his lips curve into a sad smile. 

“Fuck.” And then Sebastian sobs, pressing his hands to his eyes. 

And Kurt is there, holding him as he breaks down in the foyer of his parents house. He shushes in his ear and caresses his back and kisses the side of his head and he doesn’t say anything. 

He just lets Sebastian feel sad and safe.