Kurt soon discovered that when Mrs. Anderson had explained the way to his "rooms", she had indeed meant "rooms", plural. The north tower apparently had been turned into something of a duplex apartment, with the lower floor made into a living room containing some couches, a bar, and an impressive flatscreen tv. An open door across the room showed a small but organized study, with a large desk and a window with a stunning view over what he assumed was the Anderson's back yard. Both rooms were painted white and furnished with light, comfortable furniture, with not a single painting or picture on the walls - a remarkable contrast with what Kurt had seen in the entrance hall and the living room. He was all the more grateful for it. Upstairs, he found a bedroom with a beautiful 4-poster bed with an en-suite bathroom and a dressing that was so large he actually had room to spare even with all his clothes unpacked. Kurt needn't have worried about his clothes being mistreated by Kevin, he saw, as he found them all hanging neatly on their hangers, sorted by color.

He fell down onto the bed and closed his eyes. It was nice to be able to relax for a little, and not think about the grocery list on the fridge or the heap of clothes awaiting ironing. His mind wandered off to his dad, alone in the hospital now, and he felt a twitch of guilt - he wasn't supposed to like it here, hell, he wasn't even supposed to be here: he should be there, in the hospital, with his dad. But a voice in the back of his head told him there was nothing he could do. Sitting next to his dad wasn't going to wake him sooner, and it definitely wasn't going to bring Kurt the sleep he desperately needed. He vaguely wondered if he shouldn't take off at least his shoes, but before he could act on that thought, fatigue finally overtook him and Kurt drifted away in a deep, dreamless sleep.

-o0o-

"... and I'll have to get up at five in the morning because otherwise there is no way I'll be able to complete my moisturizing routine and get to school on time with the extra commute I have now. So I'll need to start going to bed at ten - I swear my skin just starts falling apart if I don't get seven hours of sleep."

Mercedes couldn't help but smile, but she nodded compassionately to Kurt. She knew how important his daily routine was for him. And getting up at five was a pain in the ass for sure.

"So, are they nice people? Do they have a nice house?"

"Do they have a nice house? Oh God, Mercedes, you just have to come over, they gave me this room, or rather, an apartment, almost, and it's like, it's bigger than my own place! And, well, I guess they're alright - I haven't seen Mr. Anderson yet, but Mrs. Anderson, Barbara, she's nice. And they have this, butler, or something, his name is Kevin, so whenever I need something, I just call Kevin and he fixes it. It's crazy."

Mercedes' eyes had grown wider with each word he spoke, and she was now looking at him almost in disbelief.

"Wow," she said, "that is so cool! Do they have any other foster kids or anything or is it just you?"

"They have a son, Blaine, but that's their natural child, I think. At least, he said his last name was Anderson. He could be adopted, of course." Kurt paused to think, making a mental note to try and find out this bit of information.

"So you met him already? How old is he? What's he like?" Mercedes' curiosity had suddenly grown tenfold.

"Well, Julia - that's the child welfare counselor - said he was our age, but I don't know, I haven't really spoken to him. We literally bumped into each other when I was on my way to my room yesterday, but then I missed dinner 'cause I had fallen asleep and this morning at breakfast he'd already left. He goes to some private school in Westerville, I believe, so he's got an even longer drive than I have."

"Our age, ha? Hmmm... so... what's he like?"

"Well, as I said, I only really met him in passing, so..."

"Kurt!" Mercedes nudged his shoulder, eyeing him meaningfully. "What I meant was... is he cute?"

She winked and Kurt smiled back, suddenly silent as he remembered those hazel eyes, and that mop of unruly curls that...

"He totally is!" Mercedes squealed, interrupting his thoughts. "You think he's cute! Kurt, you have to introduce me to him, you just have to, I need to approve."

"Mercedes!" Kurt pretended to be shocked. "He has... something... going for him, I admit. But do you even know what he was wearing the other day? Sweatpants. While he knew there were guests coming over. I will not date a guy who wears sweatpants to meet visitors, even if it is on a Sunday. And besides - I don't even know if he's gay."

He paused, thinking back about the Finn-fiasco and how he had sworn never to get involved with straight guys again. But Mercedes nudged his shoulder again and the tiniest of smiles crept around her mouth.

"Well then... all the more reason to introduce me to him, isn't there?"

Kurt almost choked on his drink and as he looked in Mercedes' eyes, they both burst out laughing.

"Come on," he said, still giggling, "let's go see what Mr. Schuester has in store for us this week."

-o0o-

The next morning as he entered the kitchen, Kurt noticed someone sitting next to Mrs. Anderson at the breakfast table. The man sat with his back to him but was talking vividly to the woman next to him, and Kurt assumed this must be Mr. Anderson, whom he hadn't had the chance to meet yet. He dropped his shoulder bag against the wall and poured himself a bowl of cereal, straightening his shoulders and trying to put on a confident look before joining the couple at the table. When he sat down, however, his breath choked in his throat.

"Good morning, Kurt!"

A familiar pair of hazel brown eyes and a wide smile greeted him, and he swallowed painfully.

"Good morning... Blaine. Mrs. Ande... Barbara," he corrected himself, with a small smile to the woman, but his eyes immediately drifted back to her son. The difference between the boy he'd met on the stairs 2 days earlier and the one that was sitting opposite him right now couldn't have been bigger.

Blaine's unruly curls were being kept in check with an incredulous amount of hair gel, giving him a sterner, more serious look. He was wearing what had to be his school uniform: grey trousers, a white button-up shirt, a red-and-blue tie and a blue blazer with red piping and a red "D" embroidered on the breast pocket. He looked very handsome and distinctively... gay. But Kurt didn't get the time to dwell any further on the complete metamorphosis of Blaine, as the boy now rose up, pressing a kiss on his mother's forehead.

"Have a nice day, mom. And don't wait up for me tonight, okay, the Wolverines are having open practice tonight so me and some guys from school are going to watch. See ya, Kurt!"

He lifted his hand as a greeting for Kurt, before he snatched an apple from the counter and disappeared through the back door.

Sweatpants, hair gel, and football, was all Kurt could think. Not gay, he decided. And not his future boyfriend, that was for sure.

-o0o-

The rest of the week flew by. Despite the missed opportunity to duet with Sam in glee club, Kurt was confident he had blown them all away by his rendition of "Le Jazz Hot" - although honesty required him to say that Rachel had also done an acceptable job for their performance of Happy Days Are Here Again/Get Happy. But it was Friday night now, and he was headed to his room, glad the week was over, and looking forward to a quiet weekend. As he passed through the hall, though, he suddenly heard a voice call him.

"Kurt? Kurt, dear, would you have a moment?"

Kurt stopped, feeling a knot in his stomach. Mrs. Anderson had taken on the habit of calling him "darling", or "dear", and while he knew she meant it in the best of ways, he didn't feel exactly comfortable with it. Still, he was a guest in her house, and so he didn't want to say anything about it. The last thing he wanted was to appear ungrateful because, really, he actually liked his stay at the Anderson's. He liked coming home and being served dinner, he liked dropping his clothes in the laundry basket, knowing someone else would take proper care of them and bring them back spotless and ironed. He didn't have too many memories of his own mother doing those things for him, and although he knew it wasn't Mrs. Anderson but rather Kevin who was doing all the dirty work, there was something about the presence of a woman in the house that he enjoyed thoroughly.

And thus he retraced his steps back to the open door from where the voice had come.

"You called for me?"

Mrs. Anderson turned around, dressed in nothing but her underwear and a pair of nylons. She was holding up two dresses, one long and bright pink, and another one more discrete, black, with a string of white flowers running along one shoulder. Kevin was sitting on the bed, looking at Kurt apologetically, and Kurt had a feeling this was not the first time the family butler had been put in this position.

"Kurt, I need your advice, and old Kevin here is absolutely no help at all. I've got a fundraising dinner tonight, and I don't know what to wear. Optimistic and outgoing," and she held the first dress in front of her, "or stylish and discrete?". She held up the other dress and looked at Kurt.

Kurt swallowed. He wasn't used to seeing women dressed so... sparsely... and certainly not women of the age and with the confidence of Mrs. Anderson. Fashion, on the other hand, that he was used to.

"Are you organizing or attending?" he asked.

"Organizing," she replied. "It's for street children in Peru. Or potable water in Somalia. Can't be sure. So, what do you think?"

She turned back to the mirror she had been looking in earlier and flashed both dresses in front of her again, looking pensive.

"The pink one," Kurt decided.

"People need to be able to recognize you and see you from afar, so they can find you easily. With the right purse..." he walked into the dressing where he'd spotted a collection of purses and handbags, and picked out a beige bag, "... that says you are still there for business. Now, don't go to heavy on the make up..."

By this time he had moved to the vanity table, and quickly picked up some brushes. "You want to say 'Yes, I have invested time in my outfit because I take this seriously, but I do not wish to draw too much attention because I am not here for myself'. So I wouldn't add necklaces, or bracelets. Earrings are a must, though."

He put down the brushes and looked through the earrings hanging on a little tree on the vanity table, holding them up against Mrs. Anderson's ears in turn. He finally decided on a pair and looked at the woman in front of him, frowning.

"Could you let your hair loose," he said. It was an order rather than a request, but Mrs. Anderson complied, taking the pin out of her hair and letting it fall freely over her shoulders. Kurt smiled.

"Perfect," he said.

Mrs. Anderson smiled back at him. Kevin had taken away the black dress and was now helping her into the pink one, his fingers skillfully wrapping the tight fabric around her body, lingering on her perfectly tanned skin just a moment too long before he closed the last button. Mrs. Anderson either didn't notice or didn't care, and started to put in the earrings Kurt had chosen. Finally, she took a look at herself in the mirror, looking content.

"Perfect indeed."