The sun was just climbing the horizon when Kurt finally ditched the enclosed city streets. He resisted the urge to speed through the open road before him. Itd been a while since he was able to drive freely, or at all. But, he knew it wasnt long before the roads were again cluttered with Pennsylvanias morning commuters. Although Kurt was unwilling to share the road, 6:45 placed him right at the cusps of morning traffic.

The traffic added an hour to his two hour commute. At least Kurt had the radio and the warm glowing sunlight streaming through the windows. And Blaine, who hummed like an old college dorm room heater in his sleep. Kurt stopped responding to Blaine waking a long time ago. Various times throughout the ride, hed groggily sit up and blink at Kurt. "Morning," the drive would say to him. Then Blaine would smile, lean his head against the frosted window and fall asleep again.

"What time is it?" The sleep-shot voice startled Kurt out of his focus. His eyes were drawn to Blaine, awake once again.

Kurt glanced at the digital clock on his GPS, "10:02."  He replied. "Were about four hours into Pennsylvania." He said, even though he assumed Blaine was drifting back to sleep by now. Instead he yawned and proclaimed hunger.

"Whatre you in the mood for?" Kurt surveyed, instantly regretting the devious smile Blaine gave him.

Now, Kurt was seated in a sticky blue booth across from a bleary eyed, but well rested boy with a whipped cream mustache. He glowered down at the menu with the IHOP logo emblazoned on every page. Blaine sat astute, hands clasped around his warm mug, as he observed Kurt. One mightve mistaken the menu for a strangers choice bathroom magazine by the way Kurt flipped through it with such distaste. As he looked upon the Belgian waffles, he subconsciously reached for his glass and took a long drink. Blaine had to bite back a laugh at Kurts pursed lips. 

"That is not real tea." He announced.

This time he did laugh, "why do you say that?"

"Its cold."

"Well, it is iced tea..." Blaine reasoned.

"But, Blaine, real tea isnt cold." Blaine laughed again and shrugged, taking a long drink from his hot chocolate and adding to his whipped cream mustache. Kurt considered telling him, but opted against it, in favor of the odd look their waiter gave him.

"Are you ready or do you still need more time." He asked them in a monotone voice. He looked to be about 18, with brown hair that defined bowl cut. Kurt wondered why he wasnt in school. He kept his eyes mostly on Kurt, trying to not to stare at Blaines creamy upper lip. However, he spared him a glance when he said, "Im ready." Folding his hands over his menu. Kurt nodded in agreement. "Great," he said monotonously, as though it was in fact not great. "What can I get you guys." He had such little inflection that his questions came across as statements.

"Can I get the choclate chip pancakes and a side of bacon?" Blaine asked. The guy nodded, scratching it into his notepad.

Then, he turned to Kurt. "I would like the French toast, please." Kurt said politely.

"Okay, Ill take your menus. Youre food will be out shortly." Even he didnt believe himself. They all knew the wait would be grotesquely lengthy.

"...and my dad owns and runs his own tire and repair shop." Kurt added as plates of food were placed in front of them. "Thank you." He said to the waiter.

"Thanks." Blaine nodded. Once the waiter was out of ear shot and Kurt had started drizzling strawberry syrup on his French toast, Blaine leaned his upper body inches above his bacon plate. "Youre dad owns a tire shop AND hes a United States congressman?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "its not that big of a deal, although Carole will let you think it is. Its not like hes the president."

"But he works for the president!" Blaine hissed excitedly.

"Technically we all do." Kurt leveled, with a shrug. He shoveled a fork full of French toast into his mouth, catching the stray syrup on his chin with his tongue.

"Not directly though. Have you dog sat for the Obamas yet?" Kurt shook his head, with a laugh. Blaine sighed, pouting and biting off a crunchy piece of bacon.

"Blaine, I promise my life is no more exciting than before he was elected."

He shrugged and started cutting his pancakes into a grid. "Its just cool to think about."

"Yeah, my dad is pretty cool." Kurt grinned.

"What about your stepmom?" Blaine asked, redirecting the conversation. Kurt was giving him a Hummel family crash course.

Kurt paused to ponder that. Stepmom? "Oh, you mean Carole. Shes a nurse. And I usually dont call her my stepmom, because Cinderella has convinced him that step moms should be evil, which Carole is incapable of being."

"What do you call her, then?" He asked with a smile and a sort of fondness Kurt was unfamiliar with.

"Just Carole."

"Okay, so its you, Burt and just Carole. Anyone else?"

"My-" Kurt stopped himself and looked down at his food. "Thats it."

"You sure?" He nodded briskly. "You dont seem sure."

"Blaine." It was a warning, clear and concise. It shut Blaine up in a hurry. He stared down at his pancakes like a chastised child. "Im going to the bathroom." Kurt said faintly. Blaine mightve thought hed imagined the voice. But, when he dared to look up, Kurt was on the other end of the restaurant.

Hed almost done it. He slipped up. Kurt knew this would happen sometimes; it has happened sometimes. A lot of times. But, hed thought that phase was over. Hed accepted it, so whyd that still happen. He doesnt have a brother anymore. Kurt Hummel does not have a brother. He hadnt even batted an eyelash when Blaine didnt add the hyphenated Hudson to the household name. Yet, Kurt almost slipped up and he was angry with himself. But, looking in the mirror he didnt cry. He braced himself on the edge of the sink and reminded himself that he was past that phase.

Blaine had finished eating and payed the check for them both. Kurt looked distastefully at his soggy food. "Lets go." He commanded. Blaine didnt ask questions. He simply got up and followed.

Back on the road, Kurt distracted himself with driving and the radio and the GPSs patient voice. Blaine had dragged a book out of his beat up messenger bag sagging by his feet. Hed been reading avidly, until his eyes slipped shut again.

Three hours in, Kurt stopped for gas. While it was pumping, he took respite from the tormenting cold back inside the heated car. Next to him, Blaine slept with his pink lips parted just barley and humming. He held his book over his heart as if he was pledging. Through his splayed fingers, Kurt could make out only pieces of the title. "Mr. Penumbras 2-Hour oo-stor A Nov- R- loan" and it was a New York Times Bestseller. Carefully, Kurt reached over Blaine to peek past the cover at the page his thumb was stuck in. 63, the beginning of a new chapter, "The Smell of Books". Ah yes, this a novel for Blaine Anderson. 

"My challenge: get a book out of a bookstore. If I am successful, I might learn something interesting about this place and its purpose. More important: I might impress Kat."

Kurt was scootching closer and closer to Blaine in attempts to read over his snoozing shoulder. 

"Hey, Mr. Penumbra, I want to go over my sketch of Tyndall in water colors? Yeah right.

Theres another possibility. I could take a different logbook, an older one—"

"What are you doing?" A groggy voice asked. Kurt jumped. Then he blushed. Then he shifted back to his seat. Hed practically been in Blaines lap.

"Just getting gas." Kurt answered, hurriedly throwing his door open and hoping out of the car.

"Doing some light reading?" Blaine teased, when Kurt climbed back into the Lexus. 

His feverish blush returned. "What book is it?" Kurt was careful to keep his voice in check as he started the car.

"Mr. Penumbras 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan. Its about this advertiser, web designer guy in San Fran that gets a job as the only night clerk at this small bookstore. And his employer, Penumbra, has these weird rules, like he cant open any of the books in the special isles—"the way backlist" is what he calls it— and he has to keep a detailed logbook of everyone that comes in..." Kurt stopped listening to the words so much as the animation and life in Blaines voice when he talks about books.

"Sounds interesting." Kurt concedes when Blaine finishes.

He grins, deeming Kurts reaction as an appropriate one. "It is!" Then he happily goes back to reading, not bothered when Kurt turns the radio back on.

"You eat a lot." Kurt remarked as he pulled out of the packed Burger King parking lot. He abhorred the lunchtime traffic that currently plauged them. Blaine let out at a sated hum, patting his food belly.

Update: when Blaine is in a food coma, he snores.

Blaine woke up to cold air brushing across him and a steady bing, warning him a seatbelt is unbuckled. The drivers side door was open and Kurt was gone. Blaine checked the time, 4:57, and unbuckled his own seatbelt. He peeked out his door to see the gravel of a community park sprinkled in white. Reaching behind him, he pulled his jacket from the back seat and snuggled into it. Then he draped his camera around his neck. The snow was only a thin coat, not enough to crunch under his feet like hed excepted. 

The park was isolated. Maybe because it was cold. Maybe because kids had school and homework. Maybe because they couldnt go until their parents were home from work to take them. Blaine didnt know. He walked through the open gate that only reached his hips. It was probably to keep kids inside when their parents werent looking. He blinked away the snow gathering on his eyelashes. And there was Kurt sitting on swing and looking at his phone, his mouth pressed into a line and snow falling into his hair. Wordlessly, Blaine brushed snow off the neighboring swing and sat down.

"Needed to stretch my legs." Kurt explained, without even being asked. Blaine nodded. "And I didnt wanna miss the snow. I didnt see snow before December, until I moved to New York."

"Same." Blaine confessed. Kurt had slid his phone and hands into the pocket of his peacoat. His eyes were trained straight ahead and Blaine did the same.

"Were four hours away with no stops, but Im getting a little sick of being in that car." Kurt admitted. "Would you hate me if I made us stay for the night?" In his peripherals, Kurt caught Blaine shaking his curly head. "Thanks. We can head out early tomorrow."

"Okay. Just as long as you get some rest. And I can also take a few shifts behind the wheel." Blaine offered. Hed felt bad for making Kurt drive nearly through all of Pennsylvania.

"Alright." Kurt briskly nodded. "We can get dinner and then find a hotel in the area, hopefully theyll have an availability despite the holiday." Then he was quiet. The chains of his swing creaked a little as he pushed off his heels. He let his body sway with the swing until its momentum died down. Then he pumped his legs again and again, repeating the motion until he was high enough for his stretched legs to clear the snowy ground.  He grinned, straightening out his arms, so Blaine feared his head would smack the ground when he swung by. It didnt. He was a pendulum. A mechanism for regulating time. Kurt found himself more and more preoccupied with time. Adult life is centered around it, thats why they all wear such fancy watches, because time is of the essence. Kurt doesnt wear a watch, because he is a pendulum and he regulates time. He has decided that today time would work in reverse. Hed go home, hed have a brother, hed have Mercedes and hed go on swings. Hed be young and so would Blaine. Although Blaine was barely even old. 

The young boy sat crouched on his haunches, pointing his camera at Kurt. He captured his smile and his rosey cheeks and the flushed tips of his ears. He captured the white flecks sticking to his boots and clinging to his jacket and hiding in his hair. He captured his pale knuckles clinging to the metal chain and his legs pumping him higher and his extended arms. He captured the way his dark plum jacket and fanciful clothes juxtaposed to a rusting playground somewhere four hours out of Ohio. He captured Kurt completly letting go, forgetting all of his worry and strife.

They walked the block back to the playground, paper mugs tight in their hands.

"Finally, real tea!" Kurt had said, when the barista called out his order. Blaine had smiled and grabbed his hot chocolate.

Now, the two sat in the car sipping their warm beverages and blasting the heat. Mercedes had said she prefered they didnt eat in the car, but carefully drinking was fair game. Their legs were not only stretched, but also numb. 

"My brother." Kurt blurted. Blaine looked to him with confusion. "Me, my dad Burt, just Carole and my brother."

"Why didnt you say that?"

"I told you he passed away." Kurt snapped.

Blaine fell quiet and nodded. He saw Kurts hand between them. It was pale and fisted and probably cold. Blaines hands were cold, too, but slightly warmed by the cup he cradled between them. He wanted to reach out and unfist Kurts hand. He wanted to warm Kurts hand. He wanted them to warm their hands together.

"His name is Finn. Hes Caroles only child through blood. His father died in the military, or at least thats the story he chooses to believe. I was madly in love with him sophomore year, thats why I introduced our parents. But then they fell madly in love with each other and he was madly in love with Quinn but then she had his best friends baby and now hes madly in love Rachel and they were going to get married. But, I guess now theyre not. And he always looks out for me, even now, and hes the best brother I never knew Id even get the chance to miss so much." Kurt didnt know how fast he was talking or how loud or if he was talking at all. Even if Blaine didnt hear it, it was said. And now his pendulum was ready to swing onward. And it would swing on with Blaine holding his hand, the two of them warming their hands together.

Blaine drove. He was cautious in the snow even though it was light and Kurt reassured him that Mercedes had good tires. He didnt let go of Kurts hand for the whole ride to Olive Garden. Kurt was drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Im about to fall asleep in my food." Kurt announced, lazily twisting his fork through his salad.

Blaine nodded, dabbing at his spotless mouth with the cloth napkin. Then he folded the napkin back in his lap. "Me too." He sighed.

That earned a snort from Kurt, "you slept the whole like 7 hours, why are you tired?"

"Maybe Im lethargic." Blaine shrugged, nibbling on his breadstick. It never failed to amaze Kurt how well mannered Blaine was at the table. He always kept his elbows off the table and he chewed with his mouth closed and took appropriate bite sizes and food never slipped or fell or flew or dribbled out of his mouth, ever. The proof of Blaines proper upbringing made Kurt suddenly anxious for Blaine to dine with his parents, especially on thanksgiving. The Hummels were never a "classy" family. Not Honey Boo-Boo bad, but not Anderson family fancy. Theyre a decent American, middle class family. "Homey" was a good way to describe them. He could imagine Blaine stepping through the front door and telling Carole their house was "homey."

The GPS, which Blaine had named Betty, wasnt competent enough to navigate them to somewhere other than a Motel6. Kurt was mortified. Blaine declared it authentic, tilting his camera to the neon sign denoteing the location. The word "homey" was on the tip of his tongue, Kurt could feel it tickling his taste buds.

Kurt was first to enter the room, taking in its musty smell and tacky decor. His nose crinkled, "I hate Betty so much."

"Its not that bad!" Blaine dropped his bag in the corner. "Besides, Ill give you the bed and first shower."  He said, tossing a pillow onto the floor. Kurt was tired and irritated, yet he still sighed and conceded. 

Kurt gathered what he needed for his shower, then cautiously creaked the bathroom door open. Blaine was seated at the edge of the bed, untying his shoes. But, he nearly fell off when Kurt shrieked.

"Blaine!!" The shrill voice carried from the bathroom. The called upon roommate rose from the squeaky bed and hurried up to the bathroom. He stopped in front of the door, wondering if he were to barge in, would he find Kurt clothed. But, he didnt have to find out, because the door swung open, nearly smacking him in the face. "There is a cockroach in the bathroom! Blaine, youve gotta kill it."

"Why? Its harmless." And it makes that gross crunching sound when you smush it. And its nasty guts will dry and harden on his shoes. And therell be a crusty white spot on the floor from where it was killed. And then what do we do with a flattened cockroach body?

"Because its gross!" He had a good point. "If you dont kill it, Ill ditch you and youll be stranded here."

"Alright," Blaine put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, Ill kill it." He left the small bathroom and retrieved his shoes from the main room.

Kurt was pointing at the small intruder as if Blaine couldnt see it. "Right there, there it is, Blaine, get it!" Kurt kept saying, while Blaine stood with his shoes poised above his head.

"But these are my favorite shoes!" He whined.

Kurt stared at him, exasperated. "Blaine! Get. It." He punctuated each word with a point towards the bug. Blaine sighed and braced himself. After one finalizing look at the bug to confirm its location, he threw his shoe to the ground. He heard the skin-crawling crunch of its exoskeleton. Kurt didnt even thank him. "Theres no way youre sleeping on the floor." He said instead.

"Its fine, I dont mind."

"Youll wake up with a cockroach in your mouth, Blaine, I mind." Kurt insisted. "Just stay to your side of the bed, itll be fine." 

Blaine lay on his side of the bed, with his book open. Despite his facade, Blaine wasnt reading. He was listening to the water running in the shower. The sound of the facet squealing off made Blaines heart leap to his throat. Suddenly the idea of he and Kurt sharing a bed made him nauseous with nerves. Of course its only Kurt, but how long can Blaine keep saying that before he realizes its useless.

When he heard the click of the light turning off and the snap of the door unlocking, he frantically tossed his book onto the night stand and feigned sleep, leaving only Kurts bedside light on. His roommate moved about so silently, that he only knew he was near from the smell of his soap and the dip of the mattress. The springs cried out in distress when Kurt crawled closer to Blaine. "Showers all yours." He said, softly.

"Huh?"

"You can shower now."

Being clean was a nice idea, but getting up to shower wasnt. "In the morning." Blaine grumbled around a yawn. Pretending to be asleep was a very effective way of actually falling asleep. The mattress moved under them as Kurt shifted back to his side of the bed. Blaine listened to the sound of his lamp clicking off, enjoying the darkness that washed over them.