"Kurt, are you alright?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" It's an automatic response, Blaine can tell; it comes out snappy and Kurt looks up at him apologetically, but doesn't say anything more.

"I don't know – you seem preoccupied these last few days. You disappear during lunch breaks, you snap at people who care about you–"

Kurt sighs and puts away his sandwich. "– and the muffins were burned this morning, I know. This last part is actually Rachel's fault, she's learning to bake."

To Blaine's left, Rachel huffs irritably. Kurt pats her hand and turns back to Blaine. Even his smile seems half-hearted.

"It's nothing, just some trouble at home. I'll be fine."

"Any way I can help?"

"No. But thank you."

This time the smile is real, if only a flash.

---

"Son, you're turning seventeen in three months, it's time you learned how to be a man."

It's the last week of February. They're alone in the kitchen, just the two of them, and it's one of those moments when Kurt is painfully aware that this man is not really his dad, no matter how many years they've played family.

"Are you saying I'm not a man now?" It comes out sharp, defensive, and their father holds up his hands, a placating gesture.

"Hey, don't you get all spiky on me. Right now, you're a boy. A good boy, with a lot of potential, but a boy nonetheless. You're all about dreams and passions and music. And real life isn't like that. It's time to learn that a man has to be practical and rational, and often has to sacrifice his own desires for the good of his family."

It's hitting awfully close to home and Kurt forces his face into a neutral expression even as his insides twist unpleasantly. Their father doesn't know. He can't know. The reaction would be much less civilized if he did. Still –

"And how do you suggest I learn that?"

"I'll teach you. We'll start with practical things – house maintenance, household and car repairs, keeping a budget, things like that. And it's time to give up the girly stuff, son."

"Girly stuff?"

"All the cooking, baking, sewing. You're going to leave it to Rachel and your mother from now on."

"But –" Kurt's eyes widen.

"No, Kurt. That's my final word. These are not your responsibilities and you're too old now to keep dabbling in stuff that doesn't matter. You'll have plenty of other things to do."

And he does. This whole week, Kurt's every free minute is filled with "manly stuff": assisting their father in various tasks around the house and in the garage, discussions about proper jobs for a man ("It's not about dreams, son, it's about stability and providing for your family. The pay, the benefits, the hours – that's what counts."), even male bonding. They go to see a game of college basketball together – something Kurt is profoundly bored with. Then, despite Kurt's protests, their father takes him along to his weekly poker night at a local pub ("Just remember, never actually play for money. It's supposed to be fun, and not ruin you.") and even goes as far as offering to buy him a small beer, which Kurt refuses icily.

It's a nightmare, this whole week – being so bluntly reminded of their parents' expectations of him, of the person they want to see in their son. He's known all along, of course, but it could always be pushed aside in favor of finding the little joys in everyday life. It has always been something to think about later.

Well, the later is now.

He drags his feet through each day, gritting his teeth as he watches Rachel butcher most of her cooking attempts and he's not allowed to help or, better yet, take over, because she's hopeless in the kitchen.

He steals away every free moment at school to hide in the home ec classroom and work on the clothes he needs to finish sewing for an order. He can't do it at home now and the buyers are waiting, so there's no choice, really, but it cuts severely into his time with Blaine, and that sucks.

He bites his tongue most of the time he's with their father, trying not to make things worse by spitting out that he doesn't care about sports or poker or guy time, and if anything major needs repairing he'd rather pay an expert to do it, and anyway, what does it matter, he's never going to have a family of his own.

All in all, the week is bleak and dreary. But the worst comes on Sunday.

He doesn't think much of it when their father wakes him up before dawn and tells him to prepare for a day out in the woods. Hiking trip then, another attempt at bonding. Fine, he can survive that. And then tomorrow... Tomorrow their parents are off to LA again, and it will be baking, and sewing, and time with Blaine. The prospect makes him almost cheerful.

Except when they get out of the car two hours later, there's a small gathering of men already there, and they're all holding shotguns.

"Father? What's going on?" Kurt doesn't even care how squeaky his voice sounds; he doesn't like what he sees. Not one bit.

"Well we're going hunting, of course! You need to learn how to shoot and it's the last day of rabbit season, a perfect opportunity to teach you the basics. Come on, I have a sweet gun for you."

That night, Kurt hides in Rachel's arms, the only safe place that's always, always there for him, and cries – big, hitching sobs muffled against her skin. The terror of this day is still making his whole body shake and he feels like he's never going to be able to forget the dead eyes and the soft fur covered in blood.

"I told him, Rach, I told him I couldn't, and I wouldn't, and he couldn't force me even though he was angry. But I still had no choice but to go with them, and watch them shoot the poor little rabbits, oh god, they looked so scared, and then so dead, Rachel! And they just dumped all of them in this big crate in the end, like it was nothing, like they hadn't been living creatures just hours ago. God, I'll never eat meat again, ever. And they cheered and had the best fucking time and I had nothing more in my stomach to throw up. And they kept teasing me and–"

Soft lips shush him in a way words and soothing murmurs couldn't, and it's so familiar and so simple in its comfort that Kurt relaxes the tiniest bit for the first time since this morning. Rachel kisses him sweetly for a moment longer, her hands smoothing up and down his back, before pulling him down to lay side by side on her bed, holding him tight and whispering in his ear.

"It's over now, and I bet he'll never take you hunting again. It's over. In a few hours they'll be going to the airport, and we'll have the house to ourselves. You'll bake something complicated and we'll sing all morning, and you will take out your sewing machine. And in the afternoon, we'll invite Blaine over, okay? That will help, right? Blaine's lips on you, his hands – he's got such sensual hands, all warm and gentle –"

She's still holding him so close his face is hidden in her shoulder, but her hand has slid to the waistband of Kurt's pajama pants now and for a moment he wonders if he wants to stop her. They don't really do this; they only have a couple of times, experimenting. But the touch feels nice if he doesn't think about it too much, and he's clinging to anything that isn't memories of the hunt.

Rachel's fingers are gentle but sure as she strokes him through the fabric, making his cock stir in spite of everything.

"Let me help you sleep, honey. Let me help you forget. Imagine it's not my hand. I know his is larger, but you have a great imagination, don't you? He'll be here tomorrow, kissing you like he's starved for you, running his hands all over you –"

Kurt feels himself harden quickly, a quiet moan escaping him before he whispers "Yes, please" and a warm hand pushes his pants down a little, just enough to expose his cock. His imagination is hard at work already, remembering the taste of Blaine's lips, the thrilling hardness of his body against Kurt's, the firm grip of his hand. Rachel is quiet now, just stroking him, inexpert but steady, letting him immerse in the fantasy that is so much better for the fact that it's going to come true soon. It doesn't take long at all to get completely lost in it, forgetting about the terrible day and the bad week he's had. When he falls over the edge, it's to the memory of Blaine moaning his name as he came all over his hand, undone and breathtaking.

It's so easy to fall asleep afterwards, to just give in to the pull of the unconscious, barely aware he's being cleaned up and tucked in the safe cocoon of blankets. The soft kiss to his forehead is the last thing that registers before he drifts off, and he tries to whisper "Thank you", but words get lost between his fuzzy brain and uncooperative lips.

In his dream, Rachel and he are rabbits, small and terrified, being chased and shot at. People keep coming at them from all directions – kind, smiling faces over deadly shotguns – until there's nowhere to go, no place to hide.

He wakes up screaming.

---

"I want tonight to be just for Kurt. He's had a terrible week and he's trying not to show how much it affects him, but I can see he's crumbling. I want us to take care of him, let him unwind. Can you do that?"

It's the first thing out of Rachel's mouth as she opens the back door for Blaine that Monday evening, a frantic whisper after a fleeting kiss on the cheek, and he finds himself nodding immediately, something clenching in his chest at the thought of Kurt suffering for any reason.

"Of course."

He follows her up to the attic and she's right, the tension in Kurt's frame is obvious, as are the dark circles under his eyes and the unnatural paleness of his fair skin. He looks frail, brittle, and Blaine wonders how he'd managed not to notice it at school today – nothing besides a bit of tiredness, perhaps. Then again, Kurt is a master of control when it comes to his face, his posture. He never lets weakness show unless he feels he can lower his defenses and relax, safe to be himself. It gives Blaine a bit of a heady rush, to know that Kurt feels that safe around him now.

Kurt smiles when they enter, but something very much like despair is shadowing his eyes where the smile can't quite reach today, and Blaine's heart clenches because it's new and it's scary, and he knows he's not going to be allowed close enough to learn what happened, to try and help.

But there is one way in which he can help, and it has nothing to do with knowledge or words.

He lets his hands and his lips take over, pouring his heart into every kiss and every touch as they work in perfect tandem with Rachel – tender, gentle, but firm, leaving no room for Kurt to take initiative. He doesn't try though, he just surrenders to their caresses, enclosed tightly between their bodies, and it takes a long while before he even finds his voice, first in quiet sighs that slowly turn into gasps and little moans before every last wall seems to fall and then he's sprawled on the bed, naked and unrestrained in his reactions.

Rachel's attention stays firmly focused above Kurt's waist when Blaine finally slides down the bed to do something he's been thinking about so much in the last weeks that it turned into an obsession. Kurt is hard and gorgeous, silky-smooth and heavy on Blaine's tongue, and it's fumbling and imperfect, and has nothing to do with any technique whatsoever, but it doesn't matter. It's them, and it's want and enthusiasm and another first. It ends too soon, but then again, it would probably feel too soon if it lasted hours because Blaine wants to explore every millimeter of skin, try every combination of licking and kissing and sucking, discover every little mewl and gasp and pleading sound that Kurt can make. He's bold enough to swallow but there's too much and he ends up with come trickling down his chin that he surreptitiously wipes on the sheets because he's not quite ready to lick it off yet.

Kurt is trembling coming down, loose and pliant, and Rachel pulls the warm duvet over the three of them as they lie down, Kurt between them, safe in their embrace. Blaine is almost painfully hard in his pants, but it doesn't matter right now. What matters is that Kurt's eyes are the lovely shade of sea water again, not the gray color of rainclouds; that the tension has left his body and his face is so calm now, placid.

It helped – Blaine managed to help, not alone, but he did, and he feels ridiculously proud.

For a long while they just snuggle like this, languid kisses and gentle strokes that are all comfort and not sex, until Kurt turns to kiss Rachel's cheek and she sits up, one strap of her black top sliding off her shoulder.

"I'll leave you two now, if you don't mind."

And how could Blaine mind when Kurt is already leaning in and tugging at his clothes with impatient fingers, kissing every bit of skin with lips so hot they burn, and yes, that's the other thing Blaine couldn't stop imagining lately.

But imagination turns out to be nothing compared to reality of Kurt's mouth on him and Blaine catches himself hoping Rachel is using her headphones again because there's no way he can be quiet through this and it seems so private all of a sudden, something just between him and Kurt, and wow, that's new.

It's only when he's walking home late that night, after his knees have stopped feeling like a newborn foal's, after he's spent forever naked in the cocoon of the duvet with Kurt, cuddling and then touching and pressing against each other, and then trying to catch their breath all over again – it's only then that Blaine realizes that he hadn't even kissed Rachel once today.

And that he doesn't mind it in the slightest.

He's not the only one who noticed.

"We have to talk." It's three days later, the lunch break has just started, and Blaine is faced with a very solemn-looking Rachel. Kurt is nowhere to be seen, he must have disappeared to do his sewing again. No help there, then. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to get you alone."

"Oh?" It almost sounds like he's scared but, well, determined Rachel is not something to be taken lightly. Especially when Blaine has a feeling he knows what she wants to talk about.

She doesn't say a word as she leads him into a side corridor – not until they are leaning against the windowsill at the end of it, with no one around.

"You don't need me anymore, do you?"

Blaine startles at the bluntness of the question; it's so unlike her. It's Kurt who's the straightforward one – Rachel is a tease, always dancing playfully around a topic before she gets to it. Not today, it seems. Blaine feels his heart speed up, his throat tighten. His voice sounds all wrong when he speaks.

"What do you mean?"

"You and Kurt, you don't need me as a buffer anymore. At least, I know for a fact he doesn't – how about you?"

His expression must be particularly dumb because Rachel rolls her eyes with an exasperated smile.

"Okay, let's be honest here, Blaine. You're hot. You're gorgeous. So don't take it personally, but. As fun as these last months have been, I've mostly been in the... intimate stuff so deep because Kurt asked me to. He's the one who wanted you from the moment he first saw you. I've been there to sort of... test the waters. Make sure things wouldn't get awkward if you weren't into guys. And now that we know you are–"

"I don't know if I'm into guys. I'm into Kurt." Blaine has no idea why that's the part he feels the need to focus on; the words just come out without his conscious decision. Rachel smiles.

"Which is all that counts here. Anyway, I feel like I'm becoming the third wheel now, you two seem to be doing just fine without me, so maybe it's the right moment to change things up a little? Don't get me wrong, I'd love to still be friends, but maybe I should be just a friend from now on? To give you and Kurt more space? More time for each other? I'm just throwing it in there for you to consider, Blaine, you don't have to make a decision now." She looks a little nervous now, biting her lip before she catches herself and regains control over her face.

A few heartbeats is really all the time for consideration he needs, now that the option has been put in front of him like this, but he gives it a minute more, in case it's just shock that will wear off soon. Maybe it should hurt, he wonders – maybe he should feel a little betrayed, or at least sad. But he doesn't. Instead, he thinks of afternoons at their attic with Kurt alone, of Kurt's smile and his kisses, Kurt's touch and time just for him, and a wave of possessive joy curls unexpectedly around his heart.

"Yeah. I'm okay with it. I mean, you are amazing, Rachel, but Kurt–"

"Kurt holds your heart."

"I– I think he might be, yes."

"Good." She bounces a little on the balls of her feet. "Great. So if that's settled, let's discuss the Regionals duet possibilities."

Kurt knows.

He doesn't say a word about it, but when they meet the next morning, it's clear. It's in the warm looks he gives Blaine over his cup of coffee while they sit in the empty classroom again, in the smile that lingers just a second longer when they're in public. It's in the way he comes to sit with Blaine in the choir room, abandoning Rachel up front, talking with Quinn. It's new; they've been nearly inseparable so far, and Blaine remembers what he thought that night, two weeks ago: they're no longer a unit, at least in relation to him. No longer "the siblings" or "the Hummelberrys".

Now the division is even clearer. Yes, they're both his best friends, but it's Kurt that Blaine is helplessly infatuated with.

He's very fine with it. And so, it seems, are they.

Blaine just wishes it could mean not hiding anymore. After all, they're no longer a highly unconventional triangle that no one would understand. They're a couple; it should make a difference. Because Blaine would be happy to come out. He's not sure if what he feels for Kurt makes him gay, or bi, or what, but he's never been one for labels, and he doesn't really care. He'd come out about dating Kurt – being Kurt's boyfriend ­– in a heartbeat, if he were allowed; to his parents, his friends, the school in general – hell, the whole world.

But he knows it's not gonna happen.

He's heard enough about their parents by now to know there is no chance of it going well. He still can't wrap his head around it, not entirely, but he knows enough not to question Kurt and Rachel's reasons to play it safe.

But knowing doesn't mean he isn't aching to take Kurt's hand, to stop controlling every word and expression when they interact in public. It doesn't keep him from trying out the word boyfriend when he's alone in his bedroom, late at night. He can't help it. He's never thought the first time he'd fall in... ah, he'd really like someone, would be so damn complicated.

Still, he wouldn't change it for the world.

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CHAPTER ART by HACHI (click!)

New house rules