"Kurt, stop it," Carole smacked his butt as she dodged in back of him trying to get the flour out of the cupboard.

"I'm just trying to help," Kurt said, hurt that she wasn't appreciating his efforts to do things for her.

"Burt! Burt, come in here and drag your son out of my kitchen before I loose my temper," Carole called. Burt appeared at the door with Blaine, both looking at the two combatants as if they would rather fight an enraged bull.

"Ah..." Burt said, looking at Blaine. Blaine turned tail and walked quickly to the front door, snapping his fingers at Princess.

"Here, girl, I'll take you out for a walk..." Blaine said, reaching for her leash.

"Stop where you stand, Anderson. You just took that dog out not fifteen minutes ago. Grow a pair and come retrieve your boyfriend. Now," Burt roared down the hallway. Well, he didn't really roar, but that was how it sounded to Blaine who jumped and returned very reluctantly to the kitchen. He reached his arms around Kurt and kissed him softly on his lips. Kurt tried to pull away, but Blaine could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

"Come with me, Kurt, okay? I know you want to help. Carole knows you want to help, but she also knows what her strengths and limitations are and how to deal with them. Let's go down to the basement and watch White Christmas, okay?" Blaine asked his boyfriend. Kurt started to argue, but one look at Carole's determined face and he gave in.

"May I make some hot chocolate for everyone first?" he asked his step-mom.

"Of course, Kurt. That sounds festive and wonderful. Please do," she smiled at Kurt and turned back to her pie dough, her crutches leaning against the counter.

~*~

"I just wanted to help!" Kurt whined. "The woman has multiple sclerosis and she shouldn't be overdoing herself, Blaine," Kurt said, flopping himself down on the blue corduroy sofa in the basement.

"I know you mean well, sweetheart, but Carole knows more about it than we do. She is smart and knows how to take care of herself. I read quite a bit about MS over the past year and I think hers is the kind that will allow her to do things for a long time yet. She might be having some issue with her left foot still, but her hands seem to work just fine," Blaine tried to tell Kurt, who was not actively listening. He felt guilty for not moving back home to help with Carole. His dad had talked to him, Blaine had done the same thing. It was finally Finn who convinced Kurt to stay in school. He'd told his brother that it was his job to help and too many people back home would be a strain on their finances.

"I don't want her to get worse, Blaine. I'm afraid that if she does too much, she'll get worse and ....well, I just don't want her to get worse."

"Hey now, let's watch the movie. We've only seen it six times this year and its almost Christmas Eve!" Blaine kidded.

Watching White Christmas was never a joke to Kurt and he glared at Blaine, who kissed the tip of his nose to deflect any sparks coming from Kurt's eyes. He smiled at his boyfriend and Kurt couldn't help but smile back. They leaned back on the comfortable old couch, pulled the warm green woven blanket up around their shoulders and snuggled together, sipping hot cocoa stirred with a peppermint stick, and turned on the VCR.

When the boys had gone off to college to become the men they were now, Burt had no idea what to do with the basement that had been their bedroom. Carole had moved all the furniture that was still usable down to the basement, leaving Kurt and Blaine's bed where it was, just adding a privacy screen. She couldn't stop from laughing when she ordered it, but nobody else mentioned it. The famous fight between Kurt and Finn was still a subject they stayed away from.

Now the basement was a warm and cozy space, she had all the furniture recovered in durable fabrics in shades of blue and green with punches of color. It was a bit of a trip down memory lane, the room fitted with retro things...'vintage' as the popular phrase went. There was still a VCR with a library of old movies on tape, most of which came from Kurt's own collection. There was an old radio, a record player and records, board games on the shelves, and a table with a few chairs. In spite of all the work, it was seldom used except when Kurt and Blaine came home to visit. Burt didn't like being reminded his son was gone, so he felt depressed when he was in the basement. He would much rather stay upstairs and enjoy the his and hers recliners in the den where the wide-screen TV came down from the ceiling. Carole had given him the den for Christmas the first year they were married and it was his favorite place. It was paneled in dark wood with paintings of hunting dogs and huge bass and trout – it didn't matter if Burt had never shot a gun at a live animal nor yet hooked a fish since he was a young boy – it was masculine and cozy and his beautiful bride gave it to him.

Kurt snuggled closer to Blaine and when they finished their mugs of cocoa; they set them on the coffee table and lay back on the pile of pillows on the extra-wide sofa. They knew they wouldn't be disturbed down here, it was well established that this was their domain when they came to visit and after two incidents of someone walking in at inopportune times (Finn once and Burt once), nobody walked in without knocking.

"You aren't mad I dragged you away to be with me, right?" Blaine asked.

"No. Like I said, I just want to help. I feel useless if I'm not baking or stirring or decorating...I guess we could go shopping, but we've already reached the limit of our gift budget this year. I'm feeling restless, Blaine. What did my Grandma used to say?" he asked rhetorically.

"Like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," Blaine supplied, grinning at Kurt.

"Gosh, I miss that woman," Kurt said. His grandmother had lived with them after his mother died and he had grown very close to her. She taught him to cook and clean and take care of a house. She was always there with a hug whenever one was needed. She listened without judgment when Kurt had something on his mind and those things were just expanded to include Blaine when he started becoming a part of the Hummel household. Lord, he missed her.

"I miss her, too," Blaine agreed, his mind going over some of the warm memories of Kurt's grandma.

"Here, lean against me, Kurt. We can cuddle for a while, okay? I want to just kiss your face and wrap my arms around you for a while," Blaine said, doing just that. Kurt gave in easily and they enjoyed each other's company until the movie was half over and Kurt had fallen asleep. Blaine carefully edged himself out from under his boyfriend and got off the sofa, putting a pillow in Kurt's arms, bringing the blanket up to cover his shoulders, and kissing him on the forehead.

Blaine walked up the stairs to the kitchen.

"Can I help with anything, Carole?" he asked as he walked over to the sink and got a glass of water.

"No, honey, I was just going to go lie down for an hour. Nothing needs to be tended to until then. Burt is watching a game in his den, though, if you want company?" Carole said, getting her crutches and making her way over to Blaine. She leaned them against the sink and put her arms around him. "Thank you, Blaine, for understanding. I really am aware of my limitations you know," she smiled before retrieving her crutches and walking out of the kitchen.

Blaine looked around the kitchen and found some gingerbread that Kurt had made for dessert the night before. He cut two generous slices, plopped some whipped cream on top, added two forks, then filled two glasses with cold milk, and took them on a tray to Burt's den.

"Hey, Blaine! Did you come to watch the game with me?" Burt asked, his face covered with a grin when he saw the snack on the tray. Blaine set it down on the coffee table and handed Burt's to him.

"Kurt's asleep and Carole was headed up to take a nap before dinner. I heard Finn rambling around in his room up there, too. I thought you might like some company," Blaine said, sitting in Carole's recliner and putting the footrest up. He set the plate of gingerbread on his lap and took a drink of the cold milk.

"I love cold milk," Burt said and looked at Blaine with discriminating eyes. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course," Blaine answered right away.

"From Kurt?"

"Well, yes...I suppose so. Why? What did you get him for Christmas?" Blaine guessed.

"No, it isn't that. I love cold milk, but," Burt's voice lowered to a conspiratory whisper, "I really detest warm milk. And Kurt brings it to me when he thinks I'm feeling low. It's all I can do to swallow the nasty stuff, but the look that would come to his face if I rejected it – well, let's just say I'd rather choke down the warm milk."

Blaine laughed and Burt looked over at him.

"Ah, join the club. I hate it, too," Blaine blushed and Burt hooted with laughter.

"Aha! And you have to live with him!" he said and laughed once more.

Something happened on the game on TV and they were silent for a while, watching and cheering their team on. Blaine wasn't really a big fan of basketball, but he didn't mind watching it if he was with Burt. Somehow Papa Burt just made any game exciting and Blaine was under his spell as he jumped in his seat and shouted in victory when a player made a basket.

"So, how was Kurt when you guys got to the basement?" Burt asked during the next lull in the game.

"He doesn't understand why Carole doesn't want his help. I tried to tell him that she understands her limitations better than anyone and she will either be able to accomplish a task in her own time or she will ask for help. He wants so badly to do things for her, its killing him to watch her struggle with things like lifting the flour canister down from the shelf," Blaine explained.

"He'll get used to it. I had a hard time, too. Carole is made of much tougher stuff than you or I, Blaine. She will do things whether we want her to or not, she isn't a quitter in any man's eyes. I have tried repeatedly to tell Kurt that, but its like he doesn't hear me. He is the most stubborn man alive," Burt huffed.

Blaine laughed.

"Pot, was that the kettle you were referring to as black?" Blaine asked and Burt rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know I'm stubborn. But Kurt is my kid. He should listen to me," Burt said. Blaine laughed.

"Are we talking about the same Kurt Hummel here?"

"Okay, point taken," Burt conceded, taking another bite of the gingerbread and following it with a drink of milk.

Blaine settled down in the chair a little more after placing his empty plate and glass on the tray.

"He just seems to be taking it so hard. I mean, it is serious, but Carole was diagnosed over a year ago. I would think that Kurt would have come to terms with how to deal with it by now, but every time we come to visit, he's so nervous. He hangs around her like a nursemaid when anyone can clearly see that is the last thing she wants or needs. He tries to anticipate each movement and tries to help her before she's even thought it through. I'm surprised he lets her go into the bathroom by herself," Blaine said, looking upset.

"Yeah, I've seen how he is. He makes her nervous and then the tension builds and we don't have the relaxing visit we were all anticipating. I thought at first it was just that Kurt is a grown man now and he acts differently, but you're the same age and I don't see a difference in you, Blaine. I'm at a loss to understand it. Have you tried asking him?" Burt queried.

There was a cough in the hallway and both men looked up to see Finn in the doorway.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" he asked and both men nodded. Finn walked in and sat on the sofa.

"We were just talking about Kurt and how he acts around your mom," Burt said to get Finn up to speed.

"Yeah, I heard you. Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you were talking kinda loud," he said.

"Is Kurt still in the basement?" Burt asked.

"Yeah, I had to go down to get the leaves for the table and he is still sound asleep. Mom is upstairs in your room napping, too. I walked by your room on my way down," Finn told the others.

Burt nodded.

"I don't know what to do...its not as if I haven't asked Kurt. He claims he doesn't treat her any different, or he says he's just being polite, but I think its more."

Burt sighed.

"If you don't mind me sticking my nose in here?" Finn asked, picking up a pillow from the sofa and putting it on his lap, then leaning forward to speak.

"Not at all, if you have any insight, please, spill it," Blaine said.

"He's afraid, plain and simple. When his mom, when Elizabeth died, he was about eight or nine, right?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, he'd just turned eight years old," Burt confirmed.

"He knew she was sick, but you wouldn't have been able to explain everything about her condition to him, correct?"

"Well, I told him as much as I thought he could understand, but he was just a little kid," Burt said, looking at Finn. Blaine adjusted himself in the chair, he was uncomfortable listening to what he thought was a private matter between Burt and Elizabeth.

"He didn't know about T-cells and immunotherapy and PET scans and radiation treatment, did he?" Finn asked, but went on before Burt answered. "So, here's this little kid, watching his mom die inch by inch and there is nothing he can do for her. No matter how many times he brings her cookies or sweeps the floor or gives her kisses, she continues to get worse," Finn conjectured and looked at Burt who nodded, wondering where Finn was going with this.

"Now, he never really came to terms with his mother's death and I think he still carries some guilt with him. In his head he knows he was a kid and couldn't do anything to change the outcome, but his subconscious isn't rational. Nobody's is," Finn said, leaning forward, elbows on knees and he touched his fingertips together in a nervous gesture.

"But he knows what is wrong with Carole, we haven't kept anything from you kids. You know that, Finn. You go to her doctor's appointments with us," Burt said, sounding defensive.

"I know, of course you do, Burt. No, what I'm saying is that Kurt doesn't even know he's doing this. He might be subconsciously replaying Elizabeth's death in his head and trying to compensate. I'm no doctor, but for a while there, Kurt and I were pretty close and we talked about his mom and my dad. I know dead parents is a strange thing to bond over...but well, it was what we had in common. I was a baby when my dad died and I don't remember him, but Kurt remembers a lot," Finn said, looking at Blaine and Burt.

"That does make sense, you know," Blaine agreed. "Who knows how the brain works? I know from experience that it doesn't always make sense. I mean, it doesn't even make much sense in my own head that two separate incidents that lasted less than an hour out of my life have impacted my daily life for years. I can tell myself that I should be able to cope with crowds and things like that, but as soon as I'm in one, I have an anxiety attack. This isn't exactly the same thing, but I think Finn is on to something here," Blaine said.

"What can we do to fix it then?" Burt asked, a little anxious himself. For years every time Burt got a bit of indigestion Kurt started thinking he was having another heart attack. It made sense that he was somehow reliving Elizabeth's death.

"I think we might tell him?" Finn suggested. "I know if it were me, I'd want to know. I doubt Kurt understands what's going on in his head, and that has to be frightening," Finn said, looking at the others.

"Who best to tell him then?" Burt asked.

"And should we tell Carole first? She might want to know, because I know she's noticed it," Burt added.

"How about the MS support group? They might have an idea?" Finn said, thinking about how much it had helped him understand his mother's condition.

"Okay, I think I will go and talk to him first, okay with you two?" Blaine asked. He knew how it could be overwhelming if too many people came at you all at once to try to fix you. It made things so much worse.

"Yeah, I think that would be best, Blaine, he trusts you and you know him better than anyone," Burt said, surprising Blaine. He would have bet money Burt would want to do it himself.

"I'll go now. Just bring it up and see where it goes. I don't want to make him feel bad, you know?" he says in a soft voice.

Burt got up and walked over to Blaine's chair where he pushed in the footrest to stand. Taking Blaine's hand, he helped him up and hugged him close.

"Thank you, Blaine. Honestly, I don't know what Kurt would do without you in his life. I thank my lucky stars for the day Kurt brought you over to meet me and we waited for your brother under the trees," Burt said placing a kiss on his head before letting go.

"It was a damned lucky day for me, too, Papa Burt," Blaine grins back and leaves the room, giving Finn a playful punch to the shoulder as he walked by.

~*~

After dinner, Finn and Rachel cleared the dishes. She often came over to see Finn while she was home visiting her dads. Carole and Burt headed to the den to watch a little television before going to bed, they both had work in the morning. Carole was back at the hospital, still doing nursing duty but her hours were shorter and the hospital changed some things to accommodate her handicaps.

"Hey, Kurt, want to go for a walk with me? Its snowing outside and the night is beautiful! I think if we bundle up it won't be too cold," Blaine asked, kissing his cheek. "Besides, I'm dying to see you in your new herringbone lambswool coat, baby," Blaine cooed, nuzzling his face into Kurt's neck and breathing warmth into his shirt. Kurt giggled and blushed as he saw his father walk by on his way to the kitchen.

"Blaine...not here," Kurt blushed, his voice a little deeper than usual, a fact that Blaine picked up on right away and pushed closer to Kurt, so close he could feel the hardness in his jeans.

"Ah, Kurt honey, I'm pretty sure Papa Burt knows we have sex. He's the one that sent condoms and lube with us on our camping trip when we were sixteen," Blaine laughed, his breath tickling Kurt's neck and making him giggle again.

Kurt put on his new coat, straightening the collar and preening in the mirror while Blaine put on the leather pea coat with rabbit skin lining with the matching gloves that Kurt got him for his birthday.

"You look so great in that coat, Blaine, I love it on you, " Kurt smiled.

"Thank you, sir, you look great, too," Blaine laughed and they leave, arm in arm, to walk along the street.

Its quiet outside, the snow gently falling in big flakes that float through the dark night, but its a full moon and that's enough to light their way to the park four blocks away. Not in any hurry, the two of them chat about the weather, what they hope to get for Christmas, what they want to do for New Year's Eve.

"It was good to see Rachel so happy," Blaine ventures, wondering how to introduce the subject of Carole.

"She is so over the moon in love with Finn, I don't see how he doesn't know it!" Kurt says, turning to Blaine.

"Oh, I think he knows it, he's just scared. He still has two more years of college, then grad school for another...what? Four years? To get his license as a psychologist?" Blaine says, defending Finn, who is like a brother to him, too.

"I don't know if Rachel will wait that long. She has a short attention span," Kurt replies, grinning. He pulls Blaine a little closer as they reach the park and he steals a kiss.

"She has ambition, though. She is one girl that gets her eye on something and then goes after it until she gets it. My money is on Rachel," Blaine confesses and Kurt grins, nodding his head in agreement.

They walk over to the swings and Kurt dusts the snow off one for Blaine to sit. He dusts his own and sits the other direction so they can talk.

"Did you want to talk to me, Blaine?" Kurt says immediately, giving him his full attention.

"You know me too well, baby," Blaine says, moving his feet so the swing is gently swaying.

"Well?"

"It's about Carole. And you," Blaine says, then watches to see Kurt's reaction. He wants to tread lightly.

"Oh, no...is there worse news, Blaine? Why didn't Dad..."

Blaine reaches over and touches Kurt's lips with his gloved finger.

"No, there is nothing new. No, its about how you are around her. I know when we come to visit you want to help her, and don't get me wrong – there is nothing wrong in that. But, you are not helping. Its more like you try to do things she can do, would rather do, by herself. Kurt, she is not completely disabled. You understand that, don't you?"

"Well, yes, of course. But if I can take some of the burden of having guests out of her hands, that's only right -isn't it?" Kurt defends himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Oh, Kurt...I'm not criticizing you, I'm pointing out something I don't think you can see. Carole needs to do those things. She needs to feel needed, she needs to know she is still the person she was before she got sick. Don't take that away from her," Blaine says softly, pulling the chain of Kurt's swing closer to his.

"Is that what I'm doing? Oh...Blaine, I never meant to hurt her! Why didn't somebody tell me? Honestly, I just wanted to do things to help," Kurt put his hands to his face for a moment.

Blaine got out of his swing and took Kurt's hand, walking over to a bench under the pine trees. It was cooler there, but there wasn't an snow on the bench.

"Sit down, baby," he coaxed and Kurt sat. Blaine sat very close and took Kurt in his arms. "Kurt, we talked about it tonight – your dad and Finn and I – while you were sleeping."

"You talked about me while I was sleeping?" Kurt's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and the muscles in his back stiffened.

"Only because your actions confused us, only because we all care about you. I won't keep any of what we said from you – and neither will Papa or Finn. We were worried and it just came out," Blaine assured his lover.

"What did you say?" Kurt asked, looking as if he really didn't want to know.

"Finn thinks the reason you are doting on Carole so much is because you're compensating for not being able to help your own mom," Blaine started.

"Carole is my own mom," Kurt looked at Blaine, then his eyes got big. "Oh..."

"Yes, Elizabeth. Your mother. He thinks you might be thinking of her subconsciously and that's why you are trying too hard – because you weren't able to help Elizabeth," Blaine said, taking off his gloves and rubbing his hands together.

"But...none of you knew my real mother, not you, not Finn. Only Dad did. What did he say?" Kurt asked.

"He agreed. He told us that you were too young to understand her treatments and why she was in bed all the time, or all of the jargon you probably heard. To a little kid, that had to have been scary...and confusing. How well do you remember it?"

"Not very well. I do recall bits and pieces, like dancing with her in the hospital room, things like that. I remember trying to make her jello because that was all she could eat for a while, but I didn't know you had to put the hot water in first. I put in just cold water and set it in the refrigerator. I cried when it wasn't jello by dinner time. She tried to just drink it, but she got sick and threw it all up. I felt like a failure," Kurt said softly. "Funny, I haven't thought of that in so many years."

Kurt's eyes were red and Blaine was feeling bad for reminding Kurt of such a sad time. He pulled his boyfriend up onto his lap and opened his own jacket, pulling Kurt into his chest to keep him warm. It wasn't really that cold, but the gesture made Kurt feel better.

"Oh, baby, I'm so, so sorry. I know she appreciated it. She must have felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have you and Papa Burt. And I think she was," Blaine smiled a little, hoping his words might make up for making Kurt remember a sad time.

"She knew, I told her how lucky I was to have her. I would go into her room as soon as I got home from school and she would ask me what I did that day. I'd tell her and she would ask me to sing with her. She loved to sing "You Are the Sunshine Of My Life". We sang it together.

"But I wasn't much help. I couldn't cook dinner or wash dishes. I'd get the foot stool out and put it by the sink and try to wash them, but later Dad would come back and wash them again because the water hadn't been hot enough to get the grease off. I didn't know you couldn't put pans in with glasses and things like that. I'd try to scrub the floor and kick over the pail, making a worse mess. One day Mom was sleeping when I did that and she woke up when I was crying. She came in and saw the mess and cleaned it up before Dad got home. She had to go to the hospital that night and I thought it was my fault," Kurt said in a choked voice.

"Oh, Kurt, you know it wasn't, it was probably just that she was getting sicker, right?" Blaine said, rubbing Kurt's back as he cried and told Blaine story after story of his mother's last weeks of life.

"I know it wasn't my fault, I know I was little, but I wasn't an infant. I knew enough that she was going to die before Dad told me. This sounds weird, but we had an old dog, Andy, and he died the year before my mom got sick. I kept thinking of Andy, the way he got slower and then snapped at me when I leaned against him one day. Mom told me he hurt and I had to be careful how I played with him. Then Dad took him into the vet and came home without him. He explained that he had died.

Well, when Mom started to pull back and say ouch when I climbed into her lap, I remembered the dog and I knew she was going to die before they ever told me," Kurt said. "And I thought it was my fault."

"I tried so hard to be good, to be helpful so mommy could rest, but I was just not able to, no matter what," Kurt said, putting his arms back around Blaine. Blaine held him close, just allowing him to cry and get it out. He kissed his temple and ran a finger down his cheek. He got out his monogrammed hankie that Kurt had made for him last Christmas and dried his tears over and over until the hankie was damp.

"Oh, my god, I miss her, Blaine. I miss her so much. I want her back, but I know that can never happen. It was so hard to let Carole into my life, and when I finally did she somehow helped heal what was broken inside of me. I mean, she never took the place of Mom, but she made her own place in my heart. I don't want to lose her, too."

"Kurt, Carole isn't going to die like your mom did. She does have a serious illness, but it is not fatal. She has some hard work in front of her, honey, but she's up to the task. I promise you, we would tell you if she was sicker than that. Do you understand?" Blaine asked, softly kissing Kurt's neck and holding him close.

"Y-y-yes. Maybe Finn was right, maybe it was like losing Mommy again. I didn't mean to be so annoying, I just honestly wanted to help," Kurt admitted, his arms under Blaine's coat holding tight to his back. He sighed and relaxed into Blaine's embrace.

"Do you feel any better, or did I just tear the scab off an already painful sore?" Blaine asked, worried he had gone too far.

"I do feel better. You were so sweet to listen to me reminisce. I do miss her, but talking about Mom has always been good for me. I like to remember her and I can't talk about her to Dad, he gets melancholy for days. Thank you, my wonderful Blaine. You really are my soulmate. Thank you," Kurt closed his eyes for a moment.

"You know, I have a memory of Mom from before she was sick. Well, before I knew she was sick anyway. We would go out when it first snowed and make angels. Do you want to make snow angels with me?" Kurt asked, his eyes shining and a bit of fear that his idea would be rejected.

"Of course I will!" Blaine agreed. He would have done it naked if Kurt had asked. He wanted Kurt to laugh again, or at least to lose that sad, hurt, abandoned look from his face.

They walked careful out to the middle of the baseball field and lay down near each other in the new fallen snow. They were close enough to touch hands and they moved arms and legs to make the angels, then got up gingerly to keep the angels' shape. Blaine took Kurt's hand and they tiptoed back to the sidewalk, looking back to see the angels in the sparkling snow.

"Goodnight, Elizabeth," said Blaine, taking Kurt's hand and walking towards home. Kurt didn't notice when Blaine slipped out his phone and took a picture of the moon shining down on the sparkling snow angels, holding hands.

"Goodnight, Mommy," whispered Kurt as they left the park.

~*~

Kurt was tiptoeing up the stairs to the kitchen quiet as he could be when he heard a noise behind him, a tapping. He turned around and there was Princess, her long tail thumping on the wall as she followed him up the stairs.

"Shhh...c'mon, girl, I'll let you out to play in the snow," he whispered as the big red dog pushed past him to the back door. He opened it, watching her rush forward and stop dead in the middle of the yard, looking around her at the white cold stuff. She did this every time it snowed, just stood and looked as if she was experiencing it for the first time. Kurt knew she must remember it, the dog was seven years old. Maybe she just liked the feel of it?

He waited, knowing what was coming next. He had a lot to do before the family woke up, but this was just amazing to watch, so he stood in the doorway, letting in all the cold air as he watched Princess. First, she barked at the flakes falling from the sky. She tried to catch them in her mouth, but seemed confused when they melted. Then she put her nose under the crust of snow and ran all over the yard, shoveling piles of snow in front of her. Neither Kurt nor Blaine ever understood why she did that, but she did it every time it first snowed.

Kurt's toes were beginning to get cold. He didn't want to rummage around in the closet for his slippers, so he'd come upstairs with two pairs of wool socks on instead. Unfortunately, he'd stepped in the snow that blew in when he opened the door, so the socks were now wet. He gave a sneer at the wet floor and took off the socks, depositing them in the drier for a few turns until they were dry and warm.

Princess indicated she was done with her morning ritual and barked once to be let in, then gave Kurt an undignified look as he shut her in the laundry room to lie on her pile of burlap sacks until she was dry and could be allowed back in. Blaine never did that, but Kurt knew he let her on the bed and he didn't want wet spots.

Next on the agenda was to do something about his freezing feet. He hummed "Popsicle Toes" as he made his way back to the kitchen to the laundry room to retrieve his socks. Princess got up, wagging her tail and he felt her feet and coat to make sure she was dry.

"Okay, girl, go find your man," he laughed as Princess skittered in the slick hallway floor on her way to snuggle with Blaine.

His toes now toasty warm, Kurt had a smile on his face. He decided to make cinnamon rolls and some bacon, sausage, hash browns, and eggs for Christmas breakfast. It was barely past 5 a.m., so there was plenty of time before anyone would come down to search out food. Kurt loved to bake, it was so rewarding if he kept exactly to the rules and he could add his own twists now that he understood how ingredients worked. It was almost like chemistry class, and he had loved chemistry.

Getting the ingredients and tools out of the cupboards and drawers, he made enough noise that he didn't hear someone coming into the kitchen until he felt a warm arm sneak around his waist and hugged him from the back.

"Carole! Oh, I didn't mean to wake you..." he apologized.

"You didn't. I'm often up at this hour. I was dreaming about the first Christmas I was with your dad, and I'm sorry I woke up. It was wonderful," she smiled. Leaning on a crutch, she made her way to the counter to see what was going on.

"Oh! You're making cinnamon rolls. I love your rolls, Kurt. It wouldn't be Christmas without them you know," she smiled at Kurt, hoping that being in the kitchen with him wouldn't make him uncomfortable. It had been hard to connect with him since she got sick, though she didn't understand why.

"Can I help? I could make the cinnamon filling, maybe?" she offered as Kurt measured the warm water, taking its temperature to be sure the yeast would raise the right amount.

"Sure, if you want to cream the butter, I'll get the sugar and cinnamon out," he smiled at his step-mother. No matter that he was uncomfortable with her, he did love her deeply and liked being around her.

They worked together, Kurt mixing the dough, Carole making short work of the filling and then making coffee.

When it was time to knead the dough, Kurt looked down at it, sitting on the marble countertop with a dusting of flour over it.

"Can you knead dough?" he asked, wondering just what her limitations were.

"Probably not today. The muscles are not working at their best with the weather change. Your dad got me one of those machines that has a dough hook, so I can still make bread but it isn't the same. I used to love doing it, getting my stress out doing the hard work of kneading, then the anticipation of the soft bread with a thick crust, warm out of the oven. I do miss that so much," she sounded sad and Kurt put a quick arm around her, pulling her close before folding her into his chest and giving her a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, Carole. Is there anything they can do?" he asked, knowing there probably wasn't. They were already doing what they could, but there was no cure – just treatment of the symptoms.

"Now, don't go feeling sorry for me, Kurt Hummel. I live in Disneyland compared to most people in this world. I still have my job, I can dress myself and eat and almost everything I could ever do. I can't play the piano, though," she looked at Kurt with sad eyes.

"Oh, why not? Is it because of the muscle weakness?" he asked, ideas running through his head as to how to find a way to help.

"Because I never learned, silly," she giggled. "I couldn't play before I got sick, either..."

Kurt stood still a moment, then realized she had set him up for one of the oldest jokes in the book.

"Carole! That was....was...so unfair. I was so sad and...you tricked me," he said, grinning from ear to ear to hear Carole giggle once more. It had been since before she was diagnosed that he had heard her giggle like that. The smile on his face couldn't be beat.

"Hey, this dough isn't going to knead itself, I best get going or the house will be filled with hungry giants wanting their Christmas Cinnamon rolls and there won't be any!"

He quickly got down to business, pushing on the dough, folding it and pressing down again, over and over until it felt right. Kurt was daydreaming as he usually did when kneading dough, thinking of his grandmother and how she had taught him to do this after his mother died. She let him experiment and make anything he wanted in the kitchen. He learned to knead dough when he was nine years old and it always made him feel warm and happy, thinking of his grandmother. Blaine had learned, too, since he was always around. Grandma Hummel just embraced Blaine like one of her family and he was swept along with whatever Kurt was doing.

After she passed away, the kitchen was a place of sadness. The avocado colored gingham curtains with lace around the hems, the old enameled metal table that had been Grandma's aunt's had stood in the corner with the harvest gold chairs, even the dish towels that Kurt and Blaine had embroidered with little scottie dogs doing chores were sad.

Kurt remembered with great fondness the day Blaine had shown up with Cooper in tow, cans of paint and bags of fabric in their hands. They had helped Kurt remove everything from the kitchen and painted it a robin's egg blue. Coop hired a few of his friends to put in new cabinets and relay the floor in a black and white tile checkerboard design. The perfect thing that topped it all was the cherry-red sink they installed in the white marble counter top. With stainless steel appliances and some other new touches, it was transformed into a modern kitchen that was the joy of Kurt's life for quite a while.

Now, it had new curtains at the windows and a few new things, but Carole had loved it and kept it mostly the same as when Kurt had been there.

"I just need to let this rise again and then we can roll it out," Kurt smiled.

Carole sat at the table – it was still the old enameled metal table from the old aunt's circa 1930's kitchen – and sipped her coffee. She pushed out a chair with her right foot and nodded for Kurt to sit.

"Okay, when the rolls are out, we can get the ham in the oven. We are making...what?" Carole looked up at Kurt and he imagine a touch of panic in her gaze.

"Carole? Are you okay?"

"Yeah...its just that sometimes my mind isn't what it used to be. I have problems with my memory. I know we had the menu all planned, but now all I can remember is the ham, and I can't remember how we were going to cook it," she said, a tinge of something like regret and anger in her voice.

"I think we were going to mix mustard with jelly and paint it on the ham – you know, like my grandma made. Then sweet potatoes, dinner rolls, corn, green beans the way Blaine likes them, and....oh! And the pineapple your grandmother made. I think that's it. Here, I'll go get the list. Its a good thing we made the pies yesterday, or we'd be overwhelmed," Kurt smiled, patting Carole's hand before getting the list she wrote.

"I forgot, the relish tray. Olives, pickles, things like that. Okay, let's get busy with breakfast before starting the ham," she was back on track and the moment of fear was over, just as fast as it started. Kurt wondered how often that happened, and if it was caused by the illness or the medication.

~*~

"My son has been making magic in my kitchen once more!" Burt said, grinning from ear to ear as he walked into the dining room.

"There is nothing like Kurt's cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Hurry up, Anderson, or I'm eating yours!" Finn called down the basement stairs, but was answered by a voice from the kitchen.

"I've already had one, Finn, so you better catch up," he grinned into Finn's face as they went into the dining room for breakfast.

Cooper arrived, having gone to pick up Rachel to join in the breakfast and presents.

It was all eaten in a hurry, plates of fried green tomatoes, sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs laced with cheddar cheese, and warm cinnamon rolls were placed everywhere on the table. Rachel had arrived just a little while ago, bringing her special mix of "Friendship Tea" and a crumb-topped coffee cake to add to the meal. She loved the tomatoes, something she claimed to have never eaten (Kurt fried them in vegetable oil instead of the usual bacon grease just to make her happy).

After breakfast, they all went to the den to sit and talk for a while, digesting the huge meal.

"I think the youngest should pass out the presents," Burt decreed and smiled at Rachel.

"Me? I think Blaine is younger, isn't he?" she asked, but Blaine denied it. It turned out, after a show of drivers' licenses, that Rachel was indeed the youngest and she walked to the tree.

"How do I do this?" she asked and everyone told her their own family tradition, except it was all at once and she stamped her foot.

"I will just do it the way I want to, this is ridiculous!"

"You go, girl," Kurt said, laughing.

"The first one is for you, Finn," she said as he took the long cylindrical package and read the gift tag. It was from Burt. Finn opened the package to find a new fishing pole, complete with flies, spinners, line, and all the accessories he needed.

"Thanks, Burt, now I won't have to borrow yours," he grinned.

And so it went along, Burt getting new jeans and shirts, some tickets to games. Together he and Carole got a picture of Kurt, Finn, Cooper, and Blaine taken at a photography studio in New York. It was signed, "Your Boys" . Burt had to blink several times and pretend to clear his throat while Carole just cried, Burt's handkerchief in hand.

So it went, each person getting sentimental or practical gifts, some very special, some not so much. It was finally down to the last two presents. Both were wrapped in silver paper.

"Oh, give Kurt his next," Blaine asked Rachel, a whisper in her ear. She got out the large present and placed it on Kurt's lap. He took off the paper very meticulously, saving the red bow. Inside he found a drawing. Blaine had taken a picture the night they made the snow angels in the park, then drew a picture of them holding hands and making the snow angels in the new fallen powder in the park at midnight. Kurt smiled and tears were in his eyes as he threw his arms around Blaine.

"This was from the other night! When did you have time to draw it?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Well, when you went shopping with Mercedes and Tina, I knew you'd be gone for hours," Blaine kidded, a soft smile on his face. Kurt leaned over and kissed those soft lips, loving Blaine more all the time.

"Last present, " Rachel announced, placing the package on Finn's lap. He took the paper off, then turned over the frame. There was a drawing of his father, Christopher, holding him when he was a baby. His mother was sitting on the arm of the chair and smiling down on her two boys. Finn recognized the picture he kept in his wallet, a torn and battered photograph of his father. Blaine had taken that image and drawn it into a large picture to hang on the wall, and added Carole to it to make it a family portrait.

"I know it isn't like the original photo, so I hope you don't mind I used a bit of artistic license to make it diff......" Blaine started to explain, but he was met with Finn's arms wrapped around him as the large man let tears fall down his cheeks.

"Oh, my god, Blaine. This is the best present I've ever gotten...you brought my dad back to me. That is the only picture I had of him. And now...." words failed Finn as he held his brother tightly. He finally relaxed enough for Blaine to wriggle out of his embrace.

"I;m glad you liked it," he smiled, patting Finn on the back before sitting back on the sofa with Kurt. Kurt had tears in his eyes, and took Blaine's hand in his, once more giving him a soft kiss.

"You are the best, Blaine. Thank you for me and thank you for making Finn so happy, for giving him back his dad in the best way possible," he whispered so only Blaine could hear.

After presents, the guys turned on a movie and the others went into the kitchen to make dinner.

"I don't know how I"ll be able to eat a bite of dinner after that breakfast!" Rachel said, putting a hand to her perfectly flat tummy.

"Which way are we making the ham this year?" Blaine asked. "Like Grandma?"

Carole smiled. "Yes. I love that recipe and I think my grandmother made it that way, too," she said, putting her hand up to cup Blaine's cheek and placing a kiss there.

Kurt got out the mustard, yellow French's not the fancier kind. He rooted through the cupboard, then went out to the pantry to find a jar of the chokecherry jelly he and Blaine had made after a chance find of ripe bushes in the woods last summer. He mixed them half and half in a bowl and painted a thick layer over the ham that had been cooking for an hour already. He added the second half of the can of 7-up to the bottom of the roasting pan and put it back in the oven.

Carole washed the sweet potatoes and buttered the skins, poking holes with a fork so they wouldn't burst. Blaine grinned as he looked over to see the cans of green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and canned onion rings sitting out.

"Honestly, Blaine, how can you eat that...ah...stuff?" Kurt asked as Cooper strolled into the room.

Coop looked at the array of cans on the counter and grinned.

"Its been his favorite since we were little kids. How can you possibly have a holiday without green bean casserole?" Coop asked, bumping fists with Blaine. Kurt rolled his eyes and licked his lips, thinking better of trying once more to convince Blaine that the casserole was unhealthy and lacked whimsy and style. They had been having this argument since Kurt and Blaine were ten years old. If the truth were told, Blaine would actually rather eat fresh green beans with a bit of bacon and almonds sprinkled over it, but this casserole was a piece of nostalgia from when he remembered peace in his house, so he clung to it with all his might. He just never felt like he could tell Kurt that – as if would betray all the years of love and caring the Hummels had poured into his heart. He blinked his eyes and cleared his throat, turning to speak to Carole to hide his face from Kurt.

"Would you like Cooper and I to set the dining room table now?" he offered and she nodded yes, counting in her head the number of tablespoons of cornstarch she was putting in the pineapple juice for the side dish.

"Use the green linen tablecloth and the white napkins," Kurt called out as the Anderson brothers left the room.

~*~

Dinned was over. There was enough food left over to feed an army, but Carole knew it wouldn't last until Thursday because the boys would all be down here, all hours of the day and night, getting snacks until it was all gone but the ham bone. Well, at least she could use that for the bean soup for New Year's dinner.

Burt and Cooper had volunteered to clear the table and wash the dishes, Finn and Rachel had left for her fathers' house to visit for a while, and Kurt had taken Blaine by the hand and disappeared out the door, dressed for a winter storm in spite of the slightly milder weather.

"Wow, was that wonderful! I love Christmas dinner," Blaine smiled, patting his stomach as he looked over at Kurt. "You outdid yourself, baby."

"Thank you, I'm glad you liked it," Kurt said, blushing just a bit. He knew he was capable of cooking a good meal, but he sometimes had his doubts that it was as good as what Blaine had been used to as a kid. His parents had a gourmet cook, Hilda, who fed Blaine things like croque-monsieur when all Kurt and the rest of the kids usually had for lunch was a peanut butter and jelly.

"You know I love anything you cook, Kurt," he said, scooting closer to Kurt on the truck's bench seat. Kurt put his arm around Blaine and Blaine took over shifting. They drove to the edge of town, stopping in a hilly part of the forest near where they had picnics in the summer.

"Kurt, don't you think its a bit cold for a picnic? Plus, we just finished dinner. So, care to let me in on the surprise?" Blaine smiled, kissing Kurt on the corner of those luscious lips.

"What makes you think there's a surprise for you?" Kurt asked, his eyebrows unnaturally high.

"Come on, Kurt.." Blaine coaxed, running his fingers over Kurt's leg, drawing circles that were beginning to reach Kurt's inner thigh. Kurt shivered, and it wasn't the cold.

"Hey, none of that...yet, anyway," Kurt smiled. He would certainly entertain that thought later this evening.

Kurt got out and walked around to the bed of his dad's truck. Opening the tailgate, he jumped up into the bed and uncovered Blaine's present. Blaine just stood there, the biggest grin on his face.

"You got me a sled?" he asked foolishly since it was obviously a sled.

Kurt pulled the tarp off of it and helped Blaine get it down. There was a big red ribbon tied around it and the words 'Radio Flyer' painted in red letters on the wooden body of the sled.

"I always wanted one of those...how did you know?" he asked, throwing his arms around Kurt and kissing his cheek.

"Oh, a tiny bird told me..." Kurt smiled. This was even better than he thought it would be.

"Cooper!" he yelled, but Kurt shook his head from side to side.

"Nope," he said, crossing his arms.

"You're kidding...nobody else knew," Blaine said with a question on his face. Then the realization hit. "Did you call my dad to ask him?" Blaine looked dumbfounded. Kurt just did not call his father.

"Actually, I called him," a voice said from the car that had been sitting down farther in the parking lot. Blaine's face went white, then red, but he didn't say a word. He just stood there, staring at the man that got out of his car, dressed for the weather in warm clothes and coat with mittens and a scarf. He smiled at Blaine.

"I thought since I never got you one when you were a kid, I would get you one now. I hope it isn't too late?" Palmer Anderson put out his arms and Blaine rushed into them. Kurt stood back, watching as his boyfriend got an amazing present. His dad.

They took turns sliding down the steep hill on the other side of the parking lot, steering to keep from hitting the few trees that were scattered across the landscape. They laughed and danced around to keep warm until Palmer got tired and went to sit in his car to warm up while Kurt and Blaine sat on the sled together, sliding down the slippery snow and colliding with a snow bank at the bottom.

"I'm about done, Blaine. How about we take your dad back to our house for hot cocoa?" Kurt asked, limping slightly as he took the rope to help Blaine pull the sled up the hill for the last time.

"I'd love that, Kurt. Thank you, baby," he said, stopping to take his friend into his arms and kissing him deeply, their bodies gravitating towards each other. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, until they thought about Mr. Anderson sitting in the car, probably cold and waiting for them. They broke apart slowly, picking up the rope once again and getting to the top of the hill just as Palmer opened his car door.

What they didn't notice was that Palmer had been watching them slide down together, so happy to see Blaine enjoying himself. He knew he had not been a good father to either Blaine or Cooper, but maybe he could make up for lost time. He needed to talk to the boys...no, they weren't boys any more. They were men now. Palmer smiled as he saw Blaine and Kurt stop to kiss, then linger together, wrapped up in each other they has no idea he was watching them. A few years ago it might have upset him to see his son kissing another man, but now he had made the effort to educate himself and with Burt Hummel's help he was accepting of who his son was. He was suddenly overjoyed that his son loved someone that much and more because Kurt loved Blaine back.

He smiled and walked back to the car to wait for them to remember where they were and come back.

"Dad, would you like to come back home with us and have some hot cocoa?" Blaine asked his father, anticipation in his eyes but also the fear of rejection. That hurt, but Palmer Anderson knew he had no one to blame but himself.

"Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding?" he asked, looking from Blaine to Kurt.

"Of course not, its Christmas! Please come home with us and we'll make something warm to have with the pies," Kurt invited him

"Okay, if you're sure I'm not intruding," he said, smiling at Kurt.

~*~

"Dad, guess who we found out sledding?" Kurt said to Burt as soon as he walked in the door.

"Palmer Anderson?" Burt asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"How did you guess that?" Kurt asked, astonished that his father knew.

"Because he sent me a text letting me know the three of you were on your way, kiddo," Burt grinned. Kurt rolled his eyes.

Blaine came in the door, shaking the snow off just before he entered. His father was right behind.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Palmer said as soon as he walked in. Kurt helped him off with his coat and took his things to be hung up on the halltree.

Everyone was soon gathered around the fireplace in the den, eating pie. Kurt, Carole, and Blaine had made half a dozen pies: cherry, blueberry, mincemeat, pecan, pumpkin, and coconut cream. It may have seemed like a lot, but Carole knew it would be gone just as fast as the Christmas dinner leftovers. She hadn't felt well enough to bake cookies this year, so when Kurt offered to bake pies, she took him up on the offer. It was hard adjusting to living with MS, but she was learning to accept help when she needed it.

Palmer strolled out to the kitchen when he saw Burt get up to head there. He brought his plate and cup with him as an excuse and followed Burt.

"Can I ask you something?" Palmer said, making sure he and Burt were alone as he set his dishes in the sink.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I need to talk to Blaine and Cooper. I have to tell them that Phoebe and I are getting divorced. I know Christmas isn't the ideal time for such news, but I'm leaving in two days for California to get the final paperwork done. Do you think I can maybe borrow them from you tomorrow? I know it's hard to part Blaine from Kurt, and I don't want to get in an argument with him, but I would like to tell him with just Cooper there."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Palmer, that's a hard blow to take after how many years?" Burt asked.

"Thirty two. It has been coming for a long time, Burt. I'm not sad about it, and I doubt the boys are, either. I don't even know if they'll care. I do owe it to them to tell them in person, however," Palmer said.

"No problem. I can ask Kurt to come with me to the shop. Blaine and Cooper are both staying here, Finn will be working tomorrow as will Carole, so if you want you can speak to them here. If you think its the right place?" Burt offered.

"That will do just fine. As you might know, we closed up our house in Westerville a few years ago when Blaine left so I'm staying in a hotel downtown. Kurt helped me surprise Blaine for Christmas with the sled," Palmer grinned for just a second and Burt thought he looked like a little kid.

~*~

"Why do you have to work today, Kurt? I want to just stay in bed with you and cuddle," Blaine said, pulling Kurt back under the sheets.

"Because Dad asked me to. Be thankful he didn't ask you."

"You don't have to be there for hours yet...just a little more snuggling? Please?" Blaine begged, slipping his fingers under the waistband of Kurt's pajamas. Kurt hesitated. It really didn't make sense to shower just to get dirty under a car changing oil, did it? He looked over a the clock. It said 6:15. His dad never left until 7:00 to open the shop at 7:30.

"Okay, baby...I'll stay, but we can't do anything because I don't have time to shower. But I'd love a cuddle," Kurt said, closing his eyes as Blaine's lips started exploring his neck. Kurt let out a sigh, scooting closer to Blaine and stroking his sides, pulling him so they were touching from chest to thighs. Blaine was already hard, rocking back and forth against Kurt as he licked behind his ear and moaned a little.

Kurt was well on his way to being as hard as Blaine. Enjoying the feel of naked Blaine against him, the warm skin and loving embrace, the sweet talk and kisses. He had just shimmied out of his pajama pants to slide his cock next to Blaine's when he heard a cough from outside the blankets. He jumped out of his skin and pulled the blanket down just enough to see over the hem. Burt was standing there, hands on hips and his toe tapping.

"Kurt. You know we leave the house at seven sharp. Why are you still in bed...?" Burt said, then noticed the rhythmic movements under the blankets.

"Anderson!"

Blaine froze, Kurt's cock in his hand as Kurt tried to make him let go without appearing to struggle. His dad had eyes like a hawk. Blaine put out his tongue and licked the tip of Kurt's cock, giggling silently as Kurt stiffened and coughed to smother a moan.

Blaine made his way to the edge of the blanket, looking over at Burt as if he had been asleep.

"Yes?"

Burt ignored him.

"What are you still doing in bed?" Burt asked again.

"But Dad, it's only 6:30. I have forty-five minutes..." Kurt said, looking at his alarm clock. He felt Blaine shake with smothered laughter and picked up his cell from his bedside table, turning it on to see what time it was. The cell said 6:52.

"Blaine!" he shouted and Blaine disappeared back under the covers, never once letting go of Kurt's cock. "Did you change the time on the clock? Blaine!"

Burt smirked, turning to leave the room.

"Kurt, I expect you to be at the garage by eight sharp, ready to work. There's a jeep carburetor waiting with your name on it, no excuses," Burt said and closed the door behind him. Loudly. Blaine was about to get some unhappy news, no matter how far apart he was from his parents, he deserved something nice in his life. He tried not to think too hard on what exactly that nice thing consisted of.

"Blaine, I cannot believe you did that! You knew my dad would be down here, huffing and puffing to blow the house down. What the hell were you thinking?" Kurt admonished, surprised that Blaine would risk making Burt angry.

Blaine just smiled at Kurt, reaching up to kiss him, then scooting back under the sheets, saying something as he went. Kurt thought he heard something about 'he said blow!' just before he felt Blaine's mouth close over his cock and swallow.

It was almost half an hour before they came up for air, Kurt checking the time on his cell phone before grabbing the lube bottle and disappearing back under the covers. They got up just in time to get in a nice hot, if short, shower and Kurt was on the job, cleaning the carburetor before the clock struck eight.

When he was done, Kurt walked over to the office, knocking once before stepping into Burt's sanctuary.

"Want to tell me why I had to be here to help today when the only car in the whole garage was the jeep – and the owner isn't due to come pick it up until January seventh because he's on a cruise?" Kurt asked, throwing himself down in the old armchair that sat in the corner.

"Nope."

"Aw, come on, Dad. I know something's up. You asked Cooper to go over your financial records today. You never do that until February at the earliest. You know I'm going to find out in the end, just tell me what's up, maybe I can help?" Kurt asked.

"Okay. Palmer Anderson came to me last night. He's staying at a hotel because he wanted to see the boys for Christmas. He came to town to tell them he's getting a divorce, but he didn't want to tell them on Christmas," Burt said, watching Kurt.

"Oh. Well, I'm surprised they stayed together for this long. And it isn't exactly going to rock Blaine's world – she never contacts him anyway. I will see if I can help, though. I feel bad for Palmer in some ways, but mostly I'd think he would be relieved."

"Well, he didn't say either one way or the other, just that he owed it to his sons to tell them in person," Burt said. "He planned to be there around nine, so I'll close up about noon and we can head home. Just...be there for Blaine if he needs it. I think that's all I can say."

"I'll always be there for Blaine, Dad. I love him....more than anything," Kurt said, ending in a whisper as he thought about how much he did love Blaine. He could not imagine a day would ever come when he didn't need Blaine in his life.

"I know you will, Kurt. And the best thing about that? He thinks the same of you. You are one lucky man," Burt said, brushing a tear from Kurt's cheek before hugging his son. They got into the truck to drive home.