“Yes sir,” Blaine says, lifting his hand in a mock salute. Kurt can’t hide his grin as he leaves the room. A glance back shows Blaine going back to gift-wrapping with renewed vigor, the ribbons tying them all together more and more elaborate with every present. It’s going to be adorable watching Amelia try to open those. Blaine is more animated than Kurt usually gets to see him, the anticipation of his favorite holiday finally infecting him with some small joy.

He deserves all the joy in the world.

---

Burt, Carole and Finn arrive just as Kurt puts the ham in the oven, loud and boisterous with arms full of presents and a Tupperware container full of sugar cookies to add to the ones Amelia enthusiastically decorated the day before.

Kurt throws himself at his dad first, arms around his neck and clinging to him. Time hasn’t changed their relationship, and Burt is still the one strong, constant thing that Kurt can hold onto. It’s always too long between visits, and this year has been particularly hard. Finally, he lets Burt go so that he can scoop a delighted and shrieking Amelia into his arms, despite Kurt’s halfhearted nagging that he shouldn’t exert himself, that his heart isn’t strong enough.

Carole, of course, instantly starts in on how skinny he is, but he knows it’s out of love. He bends down to hug her tight. Finn pats him on the back hard enough to make Kurt stumble, and he scowls at his brother, though it’s more at his disgusting Christmas sweater (reindeers with light-up noses, seriously?) than his overenthusiastic greeting and the fact that he still doesn’t understand how to control his own freakishly long limbs. They’re all talking all at once, and just as Kurt is starting to get overwhelmed, the chatter among them dies down when they notice Kurt glancing toward the hallway.

Blaine lingers in the shadows like a shy little boy. He’s dressed in a crisp white button-up that covers up all the scars on his arms under a slim green vest, face shaved clean and gelled neatly back, though not, Kurt is relieved to see, plastered to his head like he’d done in high school. He looks good - gorgeous, even, and Kurt blushes and looks away.

Amelia wriggles away from her grandfather, running over to Blaine and tugging on his hand. “Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle Finn are here!” She jumps up and down, unable to contain her excitement. “They brought me presents!”

“I can see that.” Blaine glances over at the growing pile of gifts under the sorry looking tree. Amelia tugs on him again.

“Come say hi, Papa.”

Kurt wishes that he wouldn’t look so terrified, but he understands, especially with the way Finn is shifting from foot to foot, obviously fighting against himself not to say anything offensive. He nods at Blaine encouragingly, and after another moment’s hesitation, he steels himself and steps forward into the living room. “Hi, Mr. Hummel.” He mumbles. “Mrs. Hummel. Finn.”

Carole steps forward and wraps her arms around Blaine’s shoulders, pulling him into a warm, motherly hug. Blaine freezes, glancing at Kurt as if he doesn’t know what to do. Carole doesn’t let him go, and after a moment, Blaine seems to melt into her embrace, closing his eyes tight and letting her hold him.

“Kurt told us what happened,” Carole says when she finally steps back, and Kurt thinks he catches her wiping her eyes when no one is looking. She catches the uncomfortable look on Blaine’s face and quickly assures him, “Only the basics. We’re all so glad you’re okay, honey.”

Blaine glances toward Kurt, who smiles and nods, before answering Carole. “Thank you,” he says, his voice quiet and a little rough.

“Blaine,” Burt says gruffly, clapping him on the shoulder. It makes Blaine startle a bit, but he smiles, wavering and obviously forced.

Finn doesn’t acknowledge Blaine at all, until Kurt, who is standing right next to him, nudges him hard in the ribs. He shoots Kurt a scowl but smiles stiffly at Blaine. “Hi.”

“’Sup,” Blaine mumbles. His shoulders hunch, as if he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Kurt hadn’t expected Finn to be the one to make this tense. He’s about to drag him away to bitch him out when Amelia tugs on Kurt’s sleeve. “Daddy, can I have eggnog?”

“Sure, sweetie,” he says, glad for the distraction from Blaine. “Eggnog, anyone? Great,” he says when everyone nods. “You guys, just make yourselves at home!”

Carole and Finn both sit down, white Amelia grabs Burt’s huge hand in her tiny one and drags him over to the Christmas tree, showing him all of the ornaments she put up. Blaine trails after Kurt as he retreats to the kitchen, eyes wide, looking like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“You’re going to be fine,” Kurt says, pulling the jug of eggnog from the refrigerator. “Grab some glasses?”����������

Blaine opens up the kitchen cabinets and pulls out a few glasses to hand to Kurt.� “Finn doesn’t want me here.”

“Ignore him.”

“I don’t know, Kurt…”

Kurt puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Just don’t make it into a big deal and they won’t either.” He fills up two glasses of eggnog to hand to him. “I’ll keep the attention off of you.”

“Thanks.”

He helps take the eggnog out to the living room, taking a seat next to Kurt when they settle down too. He huddles close, keeping his head bowed and only speaking when spoken to, though Kurt tries to draw him into the conversation as often as he can, refusing to let him close up too much. Kurt rests a hand on his knee, hoping that the contact will sooth him, and it seems to work… though it does nothing for Kurt’s nerves. He’s never sure what’s okay and what isn’t with Blaine. Some days he wants to be touched, others he shies away, but without fail, it always makes Kurt nervous, and he isn’t sure why.

But this is for Blaine. If Blaine is comfortable, Kurt can deal with his own issues, quietly and in his own head where no one else has to see how messy it is.

They make conversation while waiting for the ham to finish cooking, drifting from topic to topic with ease. Kurt knows that it has to be hard for all of them, so he’s grateful when Carole and Burt - mostly Carole - make an effort to include Blaine, even if their exchanges are stilted and awkward. Finn is uncharacteristically quiet, shifting uncomfortably in his seat any time Blaine speaks, but he downs his eggnog quickly and spends the time waiting for dinner wrestling with Amelia.

Overall, it’s not a disaster, and Kurt finds himself relaxing as he and Blaine set the table, sure that they will get through this with little to no damage.

Dinner passes without much talk other than compliments on the food, until when Kurt is just about to set out desserts, Finn finally blurts out, “Are we seriously just going to sit here and act like this is normal?”

“Finn,” Carole warns.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows.

“Nothing about this strikes you as weird?” Finn gestures to Blaine, whose looks like he wants to fall in a hole and disappear as he stares down at his half-empty plate.

“You knew he would be here, it’s not a surprise -“

“But I don’t get why he’s here at all! You guys aren’t back together, right?”

Blaine’s eyes flick toward Kurt, as if searching for an answer. “No,” Kurt says, though he knows he doesn’t sound so sure - the nature of their relationship is still confusing even to them. He hopes that he isn’t blushing. “No, we aren’t.”

“Daddy, what’s Uncle Finn talking about?”

“Nothing, Amelia. Finish your salad and you can have a sugar cookie.”

“So what the hell is going on? We’re just going to pretend that nothing happened between you guys? It’s just weird, dude! I don’t like it.” Finn doesn’t even look at Blaine, all of his questions directed toward Kurt. Beside him, Blaine seems to shrink with every word, and Kurt wonders how long it will take him to slither under the table and hide.

Kurt’s hands clench into fists as he tries to keep himself calm. No one else is allowed to talk about Blaine like this, no one, he feels ludicrously like a mother bear protecting her cubs. “That’s none of your business, and it isn’t appropriate table conversation.” On his other side, Amelia looks back and forth between them, eyes wide with confusion. He needs to stop this, he can’t talk about it in front of Amelia, can’t and won’t.

“Let it go, bud,” Burt advises. “I’ll explain what I can later, okay?”

�“No, I’m not going to let it go! This guy hurt my brother and we’re sitting down having a family dinner with him? Like he gets to be one of us after that?”

Kurt stands up. “Blaine is family,” he snaps, loud enough to make Finn flinch, “and you don’t have to like it but you will not talk about this in front of my daughter!”

Finn blinks, his eyes falling on Amelia as if only just noticing her presence at the table, and her face is crumpled with held back tears. She’s so sensitive, and when people yell she just can’t stand it, even when it’s not aimed toward her. Finn stammers, “I - I didn’t mean -“

“No, he’s right.” Blaine finally speaks, head still bowed, causing everyone to look at him. He puts on a wavering smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he stands up. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Blaine, don’t go,” Kurt starts, reaching out to him, but Blaine raises a hand and cuts him off.

�“I’m just going to take a walk, I’ll see you later.” He leaves without another word, despite Amelia softly calling him back. A few moments later the front door opens and slams shut.

The silence is so thick it’s almost tangible. Kurt glares at a shocked looking Finn, teeth gritted and fists still clenched. They don’t know, they don’t understand Blaine and don’t seem to care to, it just cements in his mind that he is the only one who can come to Blaine’s rescue. Out of all the people who he expected to blow up at Blaine, he hadn’t expected it to be Finn - Burt, perhaps, but he looks just as disappointed in Finn at the rest of them.

“Bravo, Finn. Merry freaking Christmas.” He says coldly.

“I’m sorry -“

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to!” He pushes himself away from the table and makes toward the door. “I’m going after him.”

Before he has a chance, Burt scoots his chair back and stands up. “Don’t worry about it, Kurt, I’ll go get him.”

Kurt pauses in the middle of grabbing his coat from rack by the door, looking at his father suspiciously. “He really doesn’t need anyone else bitching at him, dad -“

“Do I look like I’m gonna? I just want to talk, that’s all. I’ll bring him back, don’t you worry.”

“But -“

“Maybe he needs to be reminded by someone other than you that his family hasn’t given up on him yet.”

Across the table, Finn’s face turns an even deeper shade of red, but no one looks at him. Carole looks up at her husband with eyes brimming with pride and love, and Kurt forces himself to back off. It’s not easy. Every bone is his body is thrumming with tension, needing to make sure that Blaine is okay. But Burt has always been wonderful with Blaine, a better father than Blaine’s had ever tried to be. Learn to let go, Kurt tells himself.

“Okay,” he says, hanging his coat back up. “Just - be gentle with him, okay? He’s… fragile.”

“I bet he’s a lot stronger than you think, kiddo.” He pats Kurt on the back on his way past, grabbing his own coat and Blaine’s before stepping out the door.

---

It’s fucking freezing out, which makes Blaine feel like an even bigger idiot than before. It’s Christmas Eve and the streets are deserted, buildings lit up and streets dusted with the beginnings of snow. Of course it’s cold. He didn’t bother to bring a coat, and as cozy as his sweater vest is, it really doesn’t do much to keep him warm in December. He wraps his arms around himself and keeps walking anyway, to where he has no idea, he just needs out of that suffocating apartment. Kurt’s going to kill him if he gets himself hypothermia, but he doesn’t care right now, he can just add it to the list of reasons he’s stupid.

Stupid of him to forget his stupid coat. Stupid of him to think that he could have a normal night and feel part of a normal family again. Stupid of him to think that they could just accept him and how fucked up he really is, no matter how much the meds are helping. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Blaine stops, turns on his heel at the familiar voice. Burt is standing there, burly in his puffy winter coat, with Blaine’s slim black wool one draped over his arm. He holds it out. “Thought you might want this.”

He eyes it cautiously before he takes it, tugging it on and feeling himself start to warm up almost immediately. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Want to come back inside?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

He doesn’t leave, and that baffles Blaine, who can’t decide if he’d rather stay out here alone or with Burt. He stares at his ex-father-in-law and can’t help but think that Burt looks his age - and for some reason it’s unsettling, seeing what time does to people who are supposed to be unbreakable, unchanging. Not that he looks bad - everything about his face is evidence of a good life there are laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, eyes that are still young, and the old baseball cap covering his completely bald head is the same ratty one he remembers. Some things don’t change, Blaine supposes. No, he doesn’t look bad at all, just… old.

It’s hard for Blaine to imagine what he’ll look like if he makes himself live that long (yes, he’s getting better, but it’s still so hard sometimes.) Will he manage to be as happy as Burt Hummel? Or will everyone be able to read his face like an open book, and see all these years of sadness, of self-loathing?

Look,” Burt finally says, ending a silence previously broken only by a taxi speeding by, a dog barking in the distance. “We all know Finn’s a bit of an idiot. Love him like he’s my own kid, but he’s dumb as a box of rocks sometimes. He knows even less about the whole situation than we do. Carole will talk sense into him and he’ll come around, don’t worry about it. He just thinks he’s taking care of his brother.”

“But he’s right,” Blaine says, hunching his shoulders.

“Like hell he is.” Blaine scoffs and turns away, stiffening when Burt comes to stand beside him. “What’s got you so upset?” Burt asks.

Blaine can feel his bottom lip tremble as he tries to think of what to say, but holds back the words at the same time. “It’s not just Finn, it’s… I can’t do anything right, can I?” He whispers, voice watery and choked. He feels like such a child. “No matter how hard I try, it isn’t enough. I wasn’t good enough for my parents. I’m not good enough for Kurt or for you guys. I’m just…”

“Blaine, c’mon.”

“It doesn’t matter what Kurt says, I’m still not part of this family. I’m never going to be.” He turns away again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. Stupid to cry over something you already knew. But things had been going so well, and he’d tried so hard.

“Now, you listen to me.” Burt’s hand is like a vice grip on his shoulder, forcing Blaine to turn and face him. A couple of tears fall despite Blaine’s best efforts, the night air making them cold as they trickle down his blush-warm face. He hasn’t cried in front of Burt in a very long time - it’s just as embarrassing as ever. “I ain’t gonna pretend to understand what’s going on with you and Kurt. He’s told me what he wants me to know and I ain’t prying. It was none of Finn’s business to talk to you like that.” His grip relaxes. “Far as I’m concerned, if Kurt says you’re part of this family? Then you are. You’re Amelia’s dad, and you’re important to Kurt. That’s enough for me.”

Blaine can’t tell if his shaking is from the cold or holding back more tears. “But you didn’t bother to call,” he whispers, hating how selfish he sounds. “All this time, you didn’t want to talk to me…”

“I had to be on Kurt’s side in the whole mess, didn’t I?” He shrugs. “I’m sorry about that, but he had to come first. But if you had called me up? I would’ve helped you out, Blaine, best I could. Still would if you needed me. Personally, I always kinda thought you got the crap end of the deal.”

“I hurt him. I deserved it.”

“And he left you with nothing.” Blaine opens his mouth to protest, to defend Kurt, but Burt holds up a hand. “Hey, I get it. I can’t say I was too happy with you either. I just always thought he could have handled everything a bit better.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I never blamed him for that. Yeah, I was mad, all I knew how to be was mad, but… it’s okay.” He forces a smile. “I was proud of him, really. I know what an asshole I was. Still am.”

Burt shrugs. “You’re trying. That’s all you can do. I would’ve supported you, too, Blaine. You know that, right? Carole, too. We just didn’t know how without making Kurt feel like we were betraying him. He wasn’t exactly in his right mind back then either.”

“No, I get it. I’m glad he had you.”

It takes a while to break the silence. Burt watches him in a way that reminds Blaine of Naomi, like he’s a puzzle with one missing piece.

“You ready to come back inside?” He finally asks, and Blaine shakes his head before he can even think about it. There are too many people in that apartment right now, people he should feel comfortable around but doesn’t. At least the cold calms him down, lessens his anxiety. Burt doesn’t seem bothered. He leans up against a brick wall behind him and tucks his hands into his pockets. “Alright, so how’s life been?”

Blaine can’t help but laugh softly, more like a sharp exhale than anything, a puff of steam rising from his lips. “Um. It’s been… hard. And really good sometimes, and really bad others. Kurt has been… incredible. I don’t think either of us knows what we’re doing, but he hasn’t given up on me yet. So that’s something.”

“So you feel like you’re getting better?”

“I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist. And I’m on medication now.” Blaine can’t help but feel embarrassed, though he knows there’s no shame in it. He feels like he’s saying too much, but can’t stop - Burt has always had that effect on him, too easy to confide in. For some reason he can’t help but think of the pills he has to take worming their way into his mind and changing him, changing how he feels. That had not been a fun conversation, admitting to Naomi that he needed meds, but Kurt had been with him the whole time, a hand to hold if he needed it. Kurt, as much as he makes Blaine anxious and confused, is still the best thing to happen to him. “It’s… I can’t say it’s making me less sad. But I feel stable. And I haven’t had any more relapses. So… I guess it’s a good thing. We’ll see.”

“Hm. Glad to hear it.”

Blaine stares down at the pavement under his feat, lightly covered in powdery snow. “Mr. Hummel…” he begins hesitantly, unable to raise his voice over a whisper.

“Call me Burt, kiddo, you’re not a teenager anymore,” Burt says, and Blaine can hear the smile in his tone even though he doesn’t lift his eyes. He wants to point out that he isn’t a kiddo anymore either, but Burt has never been able to stop using the nickname.

“D-do you and Carole… I mean… you don’t hate me, do you?” He blurts out. Ugh. What is it about Burt Hummel that always makes him feel like a child?

Burt raises his eyebrows. He looks ludicrously like Kurt when he does that, though they’re normally nothing alike, and it makes Blaine want to laugh. That’s happened more and more lately - the urge to laugh. Every time he does, he catches Kurt looking at him, grinning dopily until he realizes that Blaine noticed and stops. It makes his heart do flip-flops, but he doesn’t mention them to Kurt. He has enough to worry about without the pressure of even more of Blaine’s stupid feelings.

“You’re a good man, Blaine,” Burt finally replies. “You’ve been through a lot more than anyone should have to. You’ve done bad stuff, but it obviously wasn’t unforgivable. So no, I don’t hate you, and neither does Carole.”

“But that doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“No, but Kurt has, hasn’t he? Well, that’s good enough for me. Like I said, I was pretty pissed at you for a while, we all were. But you’re trying, Blaine. You’re making amends. That’s a hell of a lot more than most guys ever do.”

“But Finn -“

“Quit worrying about Finn,” Burt says, and that’s the end of the discussion. He starts walking, heading in the direction of the apartment, and though Blaine isn’t sure he’s ready to face Finn just yet, he falls into step beside his ex-father-in-law. “Do I need to spell it out for you, Blaine? If Kurt forgives you, we all forgive you. And he sure as hell has.”

From wanting to laugh to wanting to cry in a minute. The medication hasn’t done much for his mood swings. “You really think so?”

“Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you? Just the same as when you were seventeen.”

Blaine ducks his head, lips turning up in a smile. Most of his tension has melted away - after so long, he feels almost normal, like he’s back where he belongs. It’s terrifying - it could all be taken away in an instant if he screws up again, and it’s all up to Kurt - but he shoves away the fear. “I still love him,” he admits, face flushing red.

“’Course you do.”

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why the hell not?” He chuckles at the look Blaine gives him. “Alright, my lips are sealed.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“You were always going to find your way back to each other,” Burt says simply.� Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. It’s okay. It’s okay. Burt’s hand finds Blaine’s shoulder again, and he squeezes gently, and Blaine feels like he’s home.

---

The warm steam of the chamomile tea is instantaneously soothing as Carole presses the mug into Kurt’s hands. “Thank you,” he murmurs, lifting it to his nose and breathing in deep. It’s still too hot to drink, so he settles for cradling it in his lap.

The only sound in the apartment comes from the TV, where Amelia is watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas and singing along under her breath. Finn is outside, has been since Carole cornered him and gave him a stern talking to, his face tomato red as he muttered something about needing some air, though it has to be freezing out. Good, Kurt thinks viciously. Let him freeze a little. The cold worries him, though - it’s been ten minutes, so why hasn’t Burt brought Blaine back yet?

“I’m so sorry about Finn,” Carole says, sitting down on the other side of the couch with her own mug of tea.

Kurt sighs and curls up in the corner of the couch, tucking his socked feet underneath him. “It’s fine. Well, no, it’s not, but it will be.” He glances at the clock on the wall. He’d hoped to get through present opening sooner, to get Amelia to bed at a decent hour and give him a chance to set out ‘Santa’s’ presents before he passes out, but it will have to wait for Blaine.

“He’ll come around,” Carole assures him. “I would have given him more detail on what’s been going on, but I didn’t want to invade your privacy…”

“It’s fine,” Kurt repeats. He takes a sip of his tea. Still too hot.

Carole watches him in silence for a few seconds too long, enough to make him squirm. “So how are you, Kurt?”

“Good.” He replies too quickly. “Blaine’s improving; he’s on medication now so that’s getting better. And Amelia’s doing wonderfully in school -“

“That’s wonderful,” Carole interrupts. “But I want to know how you’re holding up.”

Something in him deflates at that, and he slumps back, sinking further into the soft cushions. He tries to work out how to respond, feeling embarrassingly weepy and not even knowing why. It’s been a long time since he allowed himself to think about how he’s really doing, not just in general but day-to-day.

“I’m… tired,” he says. It weighs him down like he’s sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He’s exhausted, and there’s no end in sight. He feels older than he is. “I try so hard, you know? To keep him happy, to keep everyone happy. But things like tonight still happen and he takes a step back again. I just feel like nothing I do is enough.” He blushes, staring down at his feet and mumbling an apology.

Carole takes a sip of her tea, watches him closely. “You really love him, don’t you?”

He laughs, or tries to, weak and so sharp it almost hurts as it escapes his lungs. “The least important aspect of all this and yet the thing everyone latches onto.”

“Of course it’s important! Have you told him?”

Kurt shrugs. “Not… in so many words? He knows. I think. But we haven’t… done anything about it.” Unless you count fucking almost every night for weeks, he doesn’t add, but he supposes that part of the problem was that he didn’t count that. Not his proudest moment. “I… can’t.”

“Sweetheart, have you considered the option that it might be okay to still love him? And act on it?”

“I can’t,” he repeats, more forcefully than before just in case she didn’t get the point. “I’m too scared.”

Carole’s eyes widen and she leans forward. “Of what, honey? He hasn’t hurt you again, has he?”

“No!” Kurt sits up straight. “God, no, it’s nothing like that. He wouldn’t. He was drunk when he did it and he doesn’t drink anymore, you know he isn’t a violent person.”

“He is a boxer.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “For stress relief, not actual fighting.”

“So what are you scared of?”

“The things we said to each other… you have no idea how bad it got. We fought constantly, and everything we said was true, that was the worst part!” How many nights had he spent lying awake, rubbing at his cheek where he swore it still stung, replaying Blaine’s words and thinking, “he’s right”? “He can hurt me so badly, and I know I can do the same. How can I just let that happen again? How can we kiss and make up knowing that we can turn each other into something this pathetic?” He’s breathing heavily by the time he finishes, blushing bright red. Carole is just too easy to talk to, sometimes. “I can’t do that to him again. I can’t let him to it to me.”

A warm, familiar hand covering his, squeezing gently. Kurt shuts his eyes tight, refusing to cry, while Carole stays silent and lets him calm down. He’s never talked about it like this before, just let himself talk without worrying what people would think. Is this what Blaine’s therapy is like? Because Carole should have chosen a different career path. It’s a relief and unsettling all at once. He blinks his eyes open and looks at Carole, who looks back with a knowing smile.

“But sweetheart, that’s what a relationship is,” She says. Kurt’s only response is to sniffle. “You think your dad and I haven’t had our ups and downs? Some days it’s a struggle to remember why I married him. Every couple goes through that.”

“I know.” He’s not a teenager anymore. He’s not green and na�ve, unaware of what the world can throw at him. If anything, he’s hopelessly bitter.

“You gave Blaine your heart. Trusting someone like that… it’s practically inviting him to hurt you. No one can cut you as deeply as the person you love.”

Morbid, but effective. “Then what’s the point?” Kurt asks, knowing that he sounds too harsh. He’s just so frustrated.

“No one else can make you happier, either.”

His eyes burn and he forces himself to breathe, his reply forced through tight lips. “I shouldn’t love him, I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t think I know how do anything but love him anymore. It’s who I am.”

“That’s not a bad thing, Kurt. I always knew that you were going to grow up to be a strong, incredible, compassionate man, and this is proof of that. I couldn’t have put the past aside to do what you’ve done for Blaine, and it’s probably because you still love him so much that you can.”

I’m not any of those things, I’m not strong enough for this, I’m selfish and I keep on hurting him and…

“But I don’t love him enough either.” Kurt says. “Every time he gets too close I push him back, and I know it hurts. It hurts me, too. I know if I could just get through this, maybe things would be okay again. So why can’t I do it?”

Kurt can’t look at her anymore, can’t do this, and he isn’t even sure why. When he starts to stand up, Carole’s hand grips his tighter, forcing him to stay. “Hear me out. I know things got bad, I’m not denying that. And I’m so proud of you for getting out of that relationship when you did, since it was obviously hurting both of you. But I think keeping your distance is hurting more. Blaine is trying so hard, and I know you are too. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let him a little closer. Maybe that’s what both of you need most.”

A sob escapes him, louder for holding it back. He rubs his eyes angrily, not even sure why he’s getting so emotional. It must be being forced to talk about it, hammering out his feelings into something he can see clearly. It’s probably a good thing, but fuck does it hurt.

I just want him back.

All of the sudden his lap is full of Amelia - he’d nearly forgotten that she was still in the room. Her wild hair tickles his chin as she clings to him, her arms wrapping around his chest, her head on his heart. “Don’t cry, Daddy.” She pleads. “It’s Christmas.”

Kurt wipes his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when no more tears come. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and snuggles her close. “Okay. I won’t.” He can already feel the hysteria he’d worked himself into dissipating, the warm familiar weight of his daughter lying on his chest, snuggled up in his arms, grounding him. He can’t let himself freak out like this, not anymore. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah. Daddy, what was Uncle Finn talking about at dinner?”

“Nothing.” Maybe he’ll tell her, when she’s older. Maybe he won’t, and he’ll let her keep putting Blaine on a pedestal, let her see him as her perfect, invincible hero (much the way Kurt used to.) He’ll think about that when the time comes. “It’s just for grown-ups.”

She pouts. “I’m a big girl!”

“You’ll always be my sweet little girl.” He gives her loud, wet kiss on the cheek, making her giggle.

“No more crying?” She asks.

“No more crying.”

She stays snuggled up on his lap for a while, and Kurt finds himself able to calm down while he’s holding her, his instinct to love and nurture satiated for now. It’s such a relief when she lets him do this. Usually Blaine is her go-to cuddler. He knows that he shouldn’t still be bitter about it, but after so many years of bitterness, it’s hard to break the habit.

“Thanks,” Kurt mumbles, forcing a smile for Carole as he rests his cheek on top of Amelia’s hair. “I think I needed that. Sorry for being stupid.”

“If you ever need a kick in the ass you know who to call, right?” She winks, and Kurt can’t help but laugh, for real this time. It’s one of those moments where it hits him that Carole has been in his life longer than his real mother was. It’s a thought that usually makes him uncomfortable, but right now, he doesn’t really mind. She’s not Elizabeth Hummel and she never will replace her even though Kurt can hardly remember her face anymore, but after all these years Carole is definitely the closest thing to a mom he has - and a good one, too. There are some things he can’t talk to his dad about, and this was one of them, mostly because he’s always paranoid that bringing up the night that Blaine hit him will prompt Burt to take a shotgun to Blaine’s face.

The front door opening and the sounds of Burt and Blaine’s voices drifting though the kitchen interrupt his thoughts. Kurt automatically tenses, but they don’t sound like they’re arguing. In fact, they sound almost happy as they peel off their coats and hang them up, a dusting of snow falling off and melting as it hits the floor. Sure enough, Blaine instantly smiles when his eyes meet Kurt’s.

Who are you and what have you done with Blaine? He wants to ask. Blaine perches on the arm of the couch next to Kurt, murmuring “hey” as he sits down.

“Hey,” Kurt echoes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright, don’t worry. We had a good talk.” He nods toward Burt, who is in the process of sneaking a few sugar cookies until Kurt gives him a look. Blaine’s tilts his head to the side, concerned as he looks at Kurt. “What about you, are you okay? Your eyes are all red.”

Stop pushing him a way, let him get close, Kurt tells himself. “I’m fine now.” He hesitates only a moment before giving into impulse, leaning into Blaine’s side and using his thigh as a pillow. It takes a second for Blaine to respond, but when he does, he cradles the back of Kurt’s head in his hand, gently running his fingers through the loose hair back there. Kurt isn’t sure what’s happening, but all the tension leaks from his body at Blaine’s touch, his strong fingers massaging his scalp, so it can’t really be a bad thing. He sighs and his eyes fall shut, listening to the chatter around him now that the apartment is full again, stiffness easing out of him with every press of Blaine’s fingertips. Don’t be afraid.

Finn comes back in, and Kurt opens his eyes to scowl at him while he stammers and blushes through his apologies. “I wasn’t thinking, man. I’m sorry.”

Kurt glances up at Blaine to see him nodding. “No hard feelings.” Finn grins and holds out his fist, which Blaine tentatively bumps.

Amelia disentangles herself from Kurt’s arms and sits up. (He’s a little disappointed, she had been so quiet that he’d thought she’d fallen asleep.) “Now that that’s settled,” she huffs, making Kurt press his face into Blaine’s side to muffle his laughter, “can we please open presents now?”

For her there are dresses that Kurt designed and sewed himself, some stuffed animals and dolls, a huge box of Legos, and other various goodies. She shrieks and flails over every single one, offering generous amounts of hugs and kisses to every member of her family. Kurt wasn’t sure what to get Blaine, but he’d found an absurd bowtie with reindeers printed on it in an antique shop weeks back and picked it up without thinking about it. Blaine doesn’t wear them as much as he used to, but when Blaine opens the box, he laughs aloud (and god, that is a sound that makes Kurt’s heart soar), and hugs Kurt far more tightly than such a small gift warrants.

They can’t seem to stop touching - little brushes of their fingers, Kurt staying snuggled into his side the entire time they open their presents. Blaine doesn’t tense up. He’s quiet still he still hides behind Kurt whenever Burt or Carole or especially Finn speak, but it’s not as bad as earlier in the evening when he refused to join in on the conversation at all. It all feels… normal..

Kurt doesn’t know what’s changed, exactly, but instead of feeling anxious when he touches Blaine, he can now repeat in his mind (in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Carole), �Don’t be afraid, it’s okay.

It’s okay to love him. He’s not going to hurt you. You’re okay.

He’s not quite ready, but he knows that the more he tells himself that, the sooner he will be.

---

In all the Christmas excitement, Amelia passes out in her pile of new toys, in the middle of insisting, “I’m not tired, I don’t wanna go to bed!” �Blaine immediately scoops her up to put her in bed while Kurt puts out her presents from ‘Santa’ in record time, breathing a sigh of relief now that it’s finally time to sleep. Burt, Carole, and Finn all leave soon after, ready to retreat to their hotel room for the night - the apartment is hardly big enough for the people living there, much less three guests - with promises to return for brunch the next day.

“Bedtime?” Blaine murmurs in Kurt’s ear, gently squeezing his hand.

“Bedtime,” Kurt agrees with a yawn. They make their way down the hall, hand in hand, and Kurt is exhausted, but in a good way. They stop in front of the door to Kurt’s room, and when Blaine lets go of Kurt’s hand he flexes it absently, feeling empty without Blaine’s firm grip. “You know, I think as far as family drama goes that Christmas was actually pretty mellow.”

“Could have been worse.”

“I told you they wouldn’t hate you.” Blaine tries and fails to hide a smile. “Hey. I’m glad you came back. Don’t know what Dad said to you, but… it wouldn’t have been Christmas without you.”

“I’m glad you made me stay. I’m…” he hesitates. “I feel good. Happier than I’ve been in a really long time.”

Kurt couldn’t stop himself from hugging Blaine if his life depended on it. Blaine’s arms flail at his sides for a moment until they wrap around Kurt, loosely, as if giving him the option to run away. Part of Kurt really wants to, but instead he holds on tighter. Don’t be afraid. “That’s all I want,” he says. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” He steps back out of the embrace to look at Blaine’s face. “What for?”

“That you have to deal with all of this. Deal with me, my… issues. I know it’s hard on you. I wish you didn’t feel like you have to.”

There are many things he could say, that he even considers saying. He doesn’t - he pushes away the urge to snap, to scorn, his most trusted defense. Instead, he steels himself, and tears down the walls. He looks straight into Blaine’s eyes and says, “Yeah. It is hard.” Blaine opens his mouth to speak, maybe apologize again, but Kurt goes on. “But there is nothing else I would rather be doing.”

He looks like he’s in shock. “Kurt…” he whispers.

Kurt smiles and steps back, hand on the doorknob of his bedroom. “Merry Christmas, Blaine,” he says. A smile spreads slowly across Blaine’s face, but Kurt doesn’t wait for a reply before he retreats to his room, leaving the door cracked behind him, an open invitation.

Maybe, he thinks as he goes through a quick version of his skin-care regime and pulls on his pajamas, maybe Carole is right. Maybe all he can do is be there, and show Blaine that he cares, and push his own fears aside no matter how hard it is. Maybe sometimes that’s what it takes. Not to cure him, if it were even possible to cure him - which, admittedly, is a hard thing to accept. But to make things easier? Yeah. He can do that.

When Blaine crawls into bed with him no more than an hour later, Kurt throws an arm across Blaine without thinking twice, pulling him in and nuzzling his face into the skin of his bare shoulder. After an evening of trading light touches that only made him ache for more, it seems natural. It takes a moment, but eventually Blaine’s hand comes up to rest on the small of Kurt’s back, hesitant at first but soon warm and solid.

Blaine doesn’t usually touch him when they sleep together like this, or when he does it’s nothing more than holding his hand - they don’t snuggle, not until now. It’s relaxing, yes, but Kurt finds himself unable to do more than doze despite how tired he is. It reminds him of when they first started living together, or even the first time they shared a bed - so close, so warm and unfamiliar.

“I want to kiss you,” Kurt whispers, eyes closed as he slowly starts to drift off. “I don’t know why I haven’t yet, why I’m still so scared of this. And I am. I’m terrified.”

No answer.

“But maybe it’s okay to be scared,” he continues. “Maybe that’s just part of it. I have no idea what I’m doing. And I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to figure it out, but I can’t rush into things.” Nothing. Kurt sighs and nuzzles closer. His mind is fuzzy with sleep sneaking up on him, his eyes puffy and irritated from held-back tears. “I do love you. So much it hurts. I’m just scared of what that means.”

He startles when Blaine finally makes a sound, a loud and obnoxious snore right next to his ear. Kurt can’t hold back a giggle as he tugs the blankets up to their chins, sitting up a little to press a kiss to Blaine’s forehead, right above his eyebrow. “Merry Christmas.” His lips brush Blaine’s skin as he whispers, and Blaine squirms in his sleep and snores again.

As scared as he is - he can’t help that - Kurt has never felt more at peace than he is here in Blaine’s arms.