And damn - did she see it.

Mercedes took her bag and slammed the door of her car shut, feeling almost embarrassed about her little old VolksWagen as she looked up at the big, stately house in front of her.

"Kurt Hummel, you are one lucky bastard."

.

"Good afternoon?"

The woman opening the door was beautiful, Mercedes thought. Her long brown hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, and even though she didn't wear any make-up, she looked barely a day over 35. The simple elegance of her wide, black pants and white blouse flattered her figure exceptionally well, and while her choice of clothing was most likely her own, Mercedes was willing to bet the matching scarf around her neck was a touch of Kurt.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Anderson? I'm Mercedes Jones, I'm a fri-"

"Mercedes! You made it!"

Kurt came running down the large staircase two steps at a time. He looked particularly happy, Mercedes thought, and she smiled as he came up to her to kiss her hello.

"Mercedes, may I introduce you to Barbara Anderson? Mrs. A, this is Mercedes Jones, a friend from my old school. I told you I invited her over?"

Kurt's voice trailed as he said the last sentence, and he looked at Mrs. Anderson questioningly, suddenly not sure if he was actually allowed to have friends over. He should have known better.

"Of course!" Mrs. Anderson held out her hand to Mercedes, smiling broadly. "It's nice to finally meet you. Kurt has told me so much about you!"

Mercedes shot a questioning look at Kurt, who simply put his hands up in the air, as if to say 'only good things!', before he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside.

"Come on, let me show you my room!"

Mercedes was barely able to wave "Nice to meet you too!" at Mrs. Anderson before she let herself be dragged up the stairs by Kurt.

.

"This place is crazy!" she half-giggled, half-whispered to Kurt when they reached the top of the stairs, "Don't you ever get lost?"

"Plenty," Kurt assured her, "left here."

They turned around the corner and almost bumped into a man coming from the other direction. He was humming a song, but stopped abruptly when he saw the two teenagers in front of him.

"Mr. A," Kurt sounded surprised, but quickly regained himself. "Mr. A, this is Mercedes, a friend of my old school. She came over to visit."

Mr. Anderson's nod to Mercedes was only barely noticeable, and his voice remained level when he spoke.

"How nice for you, Kurt. I hope you have fun. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He easily side-stepped Kurt and Mercedes and continued towards the stairs, 2 pairs of eyes following him as he turned and disappeared from sight. It wasn't until they heard the door downstairs slam shut that they spoke again.

"What was th�t?"

Mercedes looked at Kurt, ready to start giggling again, but her best friend threw his hands in the air, rolling his eyes.

"You know what, I don't even know - he's been grumpy all week. Although, between you and me," Kurt paused a moment, looking around to make sure they weren't overheard, "I think something may have happened between him and Mrs. A... they've been giving each other the silent treatment since last Saturday, and he's been curt and distant to Blaine and me as well. I mean, he's generally not very affectionate towards Blaine, but to me-"

"I thought you said he was a nice guy?"

"He totally is! Blaine is always saying he's a hypocrite with two faces, but I think he's a very intelligent, liberal man. He's very well-read too - I told you about the discussion we had on Dickens' Great Expectations, right?"

Mercedes nodded vaguely as she followed Kurt into his room - English Literature had never been her favorite subject.

"Anyways, I think maybe he's just been very busy and that's why he's been acti-"

"Kurt!"

Kurt turned around, slightly annoyed at being interrupted. It didn't take long, however, for a smug smile to appear on his face when he saw Mercedes. She was standing in the middle of the room, still and open-mouthed, looking around with wide eyes.

"My house fits in your room!" she exclaimed. "Twice!"

"I'm taking it you like it?"

"Oh my god, Kurt, it's gorgeous!"

She was walking around the room, turning around, taking everything in. Kurt had made some minor adjustments since he had moved in - a series of small black-and-white pictures had been hung on one wall, a creme-colored plaid lay over the couch, and just the right number of candles and decorative vases had been placed here and there across the room. They give the place a warm, homey feeling despite the pale color palette.

"If for some inexplicable reason you don't make it at Broadway or as a fashion designer, you could totally do interior design," Mercedes said, sounding impressed. "I wish I had the budget to let you do my r- Kurt! The view!"

Kurt smiled as he moved next to his best friend. She was standing at the window, looking out to see the Anderson's perfectly kept English garden, surrounded by forest. Two small figures were walking over the lawn towards a number of small buildings at the back of the garden, and Mercedes pointed at them.

"Is that Blaine?"

Kurt looked a bit closer before nodding. "And Kyle. I'm guessing they're headed for the stables."

"And you trust that?"

Kurt looked confused. "Why wouldn't I trust that?"

Mercedes sighed, putting her hands in her side.

"Kurt, if you ever want to get anywhere with Blaine, you got to start getting your moves on! You can't just let him stroll off to some far-off stable with another guy, who knows what's going to go down?"

"Mercedes!" The look on Kurt's face was one of pure shock. Blaine wasn't that kind of guy. Was he?

"They're just friends!"

"Well, you and Blaine are 'just friends' as well," Mercedes cruelly declared, air quoting, "but you know you would like that to change, right?"

Confusion, doubt, and fear swirled together in Kurt's stomach, and he slumped down on the couch. He was pretty sure he was in love with Blaine - at least, he loved to be around Blaine. He loved looking at him when they were studying together, he loved commuting to school with him, and he especially loved how he felt butterflies rushing from his toes to his ears whenever Blaine would smile at him, or even better, wink.

The truth of it was: Kurt wasn't sure if, and what, he wanted more. Blaine and he, they were brothers, friends even, and he liked the way things were. He had seen enough love drama at Glee Club not to want to risk blowing that all up because he wanted to... what? Kiss Blaine? Kurt had to admit, the thought had crossed his mind, although honestly, he thought kissing was overrated. Brittany's soft kisses had done nothing for him -actually, he had found it rather gross-, and if Karofsky's kiss was any indication, boys were way too rough for him to enjoy anything.

"Kurt?"

"I don't know!" Kurt said desperately. "I don't know what I want with Blaine!"

And then his mind trailed back to what Mercedes had said...

"Do you really think Blaine... and Kyle... would... that they would... in... in the stables?" Kurt could almost slap himself. He couldn't even say it. How would he ever be able to find a boyfriend if he couldn't even say that horrible, dreadful s-word out loud?

Mercedes shrugged. "I don't know. Is that Kyle-guy even gay?"

But Kurt barely heard her, the thought of Blaine and Kyle together upsetting him more than he had considered possible.

"And saying I was actually happy they were even talking to each other again!" he groaned, his hands covering his face.

"Why, what?" Mercedes looked confused.

"They were fighting," Kurt explained, shrugging, "I don't even know why. Kyle came up to Blaine on Monday to invite him to go horse riding and suggested I come along, and Blaine... well, he freaked out, basically. Ran off. They ignored each other for days, it was horrible - like there wasn't enough drama going on here at home. But then... I don't know, I guess they talked it out or something, either way, they seem fine again."

Mercedes looked out of the window. She could still see the two boys, they were laughing and bumping each others shoulders. They looked good together, she thought, but wisely refrained from saying that to Kurt. He already looked beaten down and not half as happy as he had been when she arrived not even 10 minutes earlier.

"They're probably just friends," she tried to comfort him, "I'm betting Kyle is not even gay. I mean, what are the chances, right?"

That seemed to brighten Kurt up a bit. It was true, he thought: Kyle looked pretty straight - and his gaydar hadn't gone off a single time around the boy. Maybe he needn't even worry about him at all.

"You're right," he said, "I'm probably just jumping to conclusions."

He got up and walked across the room, beckoning Mercedes.

"Now do you want to see my actual bedroom? Because this is just the living room, you know."

He winked at Mercedes, who apparently only now realized there was no bed in the room, and quickly followed him up. Kurt showed her around between many "ooh"s and "aah"s, loving the way he was able to surprise his friend. There was still a question tugging at the back of his mind though, one he was determined to answer. He needed to find out which way Kyle swung.

-o0o-

Blaine yawned as he got into the car, and Kurt could barely hold back a smile - unlike Kurt, who generally woke up 5 minutes before his alarm went off, Blaine was all but a morning person, and it appeared Mondays were especially hard on the lead Warbler.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Kurt greeted him as he started the car.

Blaine groaned something incoherent in reply, and Kurt quickly glanced at his foster brother who was now sitting next to him, holding on to his cup of coffee as if it were the only thing that was keeping him alive.

"Why are you always so happy?" Blaine asked grumpily. "It's way too early. We have to go to school. There is nothing to be happy about."

"My dearest Blaine," Kurt explained patiently, as they pulled out of the driveway, "there is plenty to be happy about. When you look to your left, you'll be able to see a beautiful sunrise. I finally have a well-fitting uniform of my own to wear. I am willing to bet you I will not be slusheed, called names or otherwise be bullied today. And there are only three days of school because it's Thanksgiving this week!"

"Exactly!" Blaine sank deeper in his seat. "Can't we just hibernate until this week is over? Please?"

"What? Why?"

The confusion on Kurt's face spoke volumes.

"Because, my dearest Kurt," Blaine used Kurt's own tone against him, "Thanksgiving at the Anderson's is like trying to feed a toddler. It takes forever, involves a lot of yelling and invariably leads to a big mess."

"But... I had a been looking forward to an Anderson's Thanksgiving!"

Blaine raised an eyebrow, casting a sideway glance at Kurt.

"Well, don't. Just... run. Run as far away as you can. Go celebrate with Mercedes, or something, and don't come back until I call you to say it's safe."

Kurt wasn't sure what to say to this. When Mercedes had been over on Saturday, she had actually invited him to celebrate Thanksgiving with her and her family, and even Carole, through Finn, had asked him for dinner on Thursday, afraid he would have to celebrate alone. But while Kurt was touched they had thought about him, it wasn't where he really wanted to be.

"No. I want to celebrate with you. With your family. You've all done so much for me these last couple of months. Thanksgiving is all about being thankful, about recognizing the good things in life. When my dad..."

Kurt quickly wiped away a tear that rolled over his cheek, determined to say what he wanted to say.

"When they were taking me away from my dad, I was so scared. I didn't know where I was going to end up, how they would treat me, whether I would still see my friends... but then I ended up with you guys. And you never even gave me a chance not to feel at home. And I'm so grateful for that, I just..."

Despite himself, a sob escaped Kurt, and he was glad the traffic light just turned red so he could take his handkerchief to try to dry his eyes before the tears would ruin his facial. He was still trying to control his breathing when he felt a warm hand on his knee, and he looked up to see Blaine look at him, a mixture of surprise and worry in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," the other boy said softly, "I didn't... I didn't realize how much this meant to you. But I'm sure my mom would be thrilled if you would join us for Thanksgiving dinner."

He was interrupted by a loud horn blowing - the traffic light had turned green and the car behind them was roaring its engine impatiently, eager to leave. Kurt quickly put away his handkerchief and put the car in gear, but not before he shot a grateful glance at Blaine. He nodded and smiled.

"Come on. Let's go to school."

-o0o-

Three days later Kurt was putting the final touches on their Thanksgiving dinner. Mrs. Anderson had started the preparations already the day before, and Kurt had joined her as soon as he got back from school. They had worked almost non-stop to get the stuffing, the side-dishes, and the deserts as perfect and as delicious as they could possibly be, and now there were just these two salads that needed more seasoning before...

"Done!"

Kurt looked up from where he was standing at the counter, wiping off his hands on his apron. He stretched and winced when he felt his spine ache from standing bent over for too long.

"I think I'm gonna go and shower," he said, glancing at the clock. He barely had one hour left, but then again, it was only the four of them -Kevin hadn't shared a meal with them since Mr. Anderson had returned home-, so punctuality wasn't the biggest issue today.

"You go and get dressed, darling," Mrs. Anderson took off her apron, "and thank you for all your help."

Kurt was happy to see a genuine smile lightening up her face and he knew a similar smile lay on his face. He had really enjoyed working together with Mrs. Anderson to make this a special Thanksgiving, and although he couldn't help wishing that his dad would have been able to join them, he was sure they were going to have a wonderful evening nevertheless.

.

Blaine straightened his shoulders. He knew his foster brother would have spent hours putting together his outfit, and he hadn't wanted to lag behind - especially because he knew how important this night was for Kurt. So tonight, with some assistance from his mother, he'd picked out a pair of black jeans -tight, but not skinny- and a silk, black button-up shirt in combination with a simple cardigan. He wasn't wearing a tie and instead had left the top two buttons of his button-up open, and he was pretty sure he looked good at the very least.

Apparently Kurt thought the same, because when Blaine saw him coming from the other side of the stairs he saw him catch his breath as he caught sight of Blaine. It made him smile, and he couldn't help but adding just a little bit on top: he put one hand in his hip and strutted down the hall until he was right in front of Kurt. He did a little turn, took a pose, and looked at Kurt through his eye lashes.

"So, what do you think?"

There was the tiniest hesitation in Kurt's voice.

"You look... good," he finally said.

"Well, thank you! Coming from you, that's quite the compliment," Blaine winked, "and, if I may say so, you're looking quite ravishing yourself."

Kurt immediately started blushing, Blaine noticed with wonder and he felt slightly amused at the sight of it. Somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered how many boys had told Kurt he looked good before, but he didn't have time to dwell on the thought.

"Shall we go downstairs?"

Blaine offered his arm to Kurt, who, a little taken aback, took a moment before he finally slid his arm through Blaine's, letting himself be escorted down the stairs and to the living room. Mrs. Anderson was already there, offering both boys half a glass of sparkling wine -just this once- and the three of them immediately started talking: school, and singing, and musical theatre and movies. Blaine could tell Kurt was really enjoying the conversation, and he was just starting to get into the holiday mood himself when Mr. Anderson joined the party.

Something happened whenever Blaine and his father were in the same room. Most times, they were able to hide it fairly well, keeping the tension between the two of them, but on some occasions -like today- for them to catch each other's eyes was enough to make the temperature in the room drop a few degrees.

"Honey!" Mrs. Anderson exclaimed, trying to break the awkward silence, "We almost thought you weren't coming!"

If it was intended to be a joke, nobody was laughing, and Mrs. Anderson immediately continued talking.

"Why don't we all just move from the salon to the dining table? Kurt has prepared some delicious salads to go with the turkey!"

While Mrs. Anderson went to the kitchen to get said salads, the three men sat down. Blaine and Kurt sat next to each other on one side, and Mr. Anderson took the chair at the head of the table, leaving the seat to his left, across from Blaine, open for his wife.

"Here we are!" Mrs. Anderson placed the extra dishes on the table, which was now full of plates, bowls, and saucers, and a delicious smell rose up from all the food that was on display. Blaine was pretty sure they would be eating from this all weekend and still have leftovers, but then again, that was kind of the point of Thanksgiving, wasn't it?

"There is still desert after, so don't stuff yourselves too much."

Mrs. Anderson's voice had become increasingly higher, and Blaine silently wished she wouldn't be so obviously nervous. It only made things worse.

"So Kurt, we don't usually pray, but you can say grace if you would like to?"

But Kurt shook his head.

"I'm not exactly a religious person, Mrs. A. I don't feel the need to thank some imaginary intelligence up in heaven for food I've worked to make myself all day."

Blaine saw the relief on his mother's face, and had to keep himself from chuckling. Despite being raised catholic, his mother had little to no affinity with the christian faith, something she and his grandfather had argued about more than once.

"No problem, Kurt. But I thought maybe it was a nice idea to go around the table and say what we are thankful for this year? Blaine, if maybe you could start?"

Blaine didn't have the slightest desire of enumerating all of the things he was supposed to be thankful for, but he still nodded stiffly. Think of Kurt, he told himself, this is important to Kurt, don't ruin his evening.

"This year I'm thankful for... my parents," he started, "for loving me and supporting me, and for giving me the opportunity to go to a good school, where I can be myself."

Blaine deliberately kept his eyes on his mother as he was talking, but he didn't need to look at his father to know how his face fell and his eyes darkened.

"I am grateful for my friends at school, especially the Warblers, for giving me the chance to do something I love so much. And I am grateful for my new brother," Blaine quickly cast a sideway glance to Kurt, "who is one of the best siblings I ever had, and definitely the one with the best sense of fashion."

Kurt took the compliment with a nod of his head, and Mrs. Anderson clapped her hands.

"That was really nice, Blaine. Kurt?"

Kurt cleared his throat, not sure what he was going to say.

"I am grateful for my dad," he finally started, "for being the best dad in the world, for standing up for me and for always being there for me. Even when he's not completely there."

He bit his lip, thinking of his dad who had been in the hospital almost two months now. If he was going to say one more word about it he would tear up, he was sure, and he quickly continued.

"I am grateful for my friends at McKinley glee club, especially Mercedes. They were the first friends I ever had and I don't know what I would've done without them. I'm grateful for the Anderson family who has taken me up so lovingly in their house and home when I was alone. And I'm especially grateful for Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, for giving me the chance to attend Dalton, so that I-"

"Don't be." Mr. Anderson's voice was calm and soft. "Not for me, at least."

"Honey, don't..."

"What... what do you mean?" Kurt's eyes darted between his foster parents, confused and abashed.

"Nothing dear, Michael just mea-" Mrs. Anderson tried to reassure Kurt before she was interrupted by her husband.

"I mean, don't thank me for letting you got to Dalton. That's all on Barbara, I'm not contributing a penny to that foolishness."

There were no feelings of any kind behind those words - no anger, no guilt, no pride. Mr. Anderson was stating a fact, as if he simply didn't want to take credit for something he didn't do.

Kurt looked at the man sitting next to him dumbfounded. There was something he was missing here, he had to be missing something.

"But... surely... you have to..."

"I sure as hell don't, Kurt." Mr. Anderson took the napkin from his plate and carefully folded it over his lap, avoiding Kurt's gaze. "When I met you, and you returned my handshake so firmly, I thought you were strong. You seemed intelligent, and confident, and I even thought maybe you could teach Blaine a thing or two about what it means to be a man. Turns out I was wrong - or maybe it was Blaine who infected you with his silly ideas about love and acceptance."

Kurt was by now looking at his hands in his lap, breathing heavily. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Memories of being called names, of being shoved into lockers, flooded his mind, making it impossible for him to think.

"I thought you were enough of a man to stand up to those who tried to bring you down, but you only proved that they had every right to criticize you by choosing to run away. It was a cowardly thing to do, but in hindsight, I couldn't have expected anything else - cowardice comes with the loss of morality. I would know, my own son has chosen that path for himself as well."

His temples were throbbing heavily, and Kurt almost couldn't see from the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He was being bullied. Again. And this was worse, so much worse than before. At least in the case of Azimio and Karofsky, he could blame their small, simple minds, their desire for popularity. But Mr. Anderson... Mr. Anderson was someone he had, until a few moments ago, admired and respected for his intelligence. He was his foster father. And he had been, in some way, his friend.

Kurt looked up to meet Mr. Anderson's gaze, but whatever he was it was looking for in those pale, glass eyes, he couldn't find it.

"So, I'm sure you understand, Kurt, that it would be hypocritical of me to support you in your cowardice."

The sound of Kurt's chair falling backwards echoed through the dining room as he stood up abruptly. He turned around and all but ran out of the room. He didn't look back at Mrs. Anderson, who sat quietly in her chair, shoulders slumped. He didn't look back at Blaine who had gotten up as well and was staring at his father, eyes shooting fire. He was not even sure where he was going, all he knew was that he had to get out of that place. Now.

He jumped into his car and pulled out of the driveway.

-o0o-

"Hey..."

The voice was soft, tugging at his conscience, and Kurt straightened himself in the chair in which he had been sleeping. Someone was standing over him, watching him, and it took him some time to focus before he could see who it was.

"Blaine."

The lead Warbler smiled a short smile before his face became earnest again.

"I'm so glad I found you," he said, before lowering himself in the chair next to Kurt, "Mom was starting to get really worried."

It wasn't until that moment that Kurt remembered what had happened. Thanksgiving. Mr. Anderson. Kurt running away and driving around for hours, only to end up here, in the hospital with his dad.

"How... how did you know... I was here?" he asked, his head still fuzzy with sleep.

"Facebook," Blaine explained. "I sent a message to everyone from your old glee club, everyone I could remember, at least - I thought you might have gone to Mercedes or something. None of them had seen you, so I went to your own house, but you weren't there either, and then I thought... I might find you here."

Blaine paused for a minute. "Would you... I have some turkey with me, if you want?"

He held out a little Tupperware box, but Kurt shook his head. Eating was the last thing on his mind right now.

For a while they were simply sitting there, together, surrounded by the silence and the rhythmic beeps of Burt Hummel's heartbeat.

"Why didn't you tell me your dad was such a homophobe?" Kurt finally asked.

Blaine leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

"You had to deal with enough bullying as it was," he finally said, "and then you were thrown into our family and I just thought you didn't need anything more on your plate. Plus, you got along fine, the both of you, I thought maybe it could give you some extra support, to make you feel at hoome."

He rubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath.

"And I was kind of hoping he would go easier on you, since you're... well, since you're not his son by birth."

"I see."

So when Kurt told Blaine in confidence he was bullied by a jock, Blaine felt the need to spread the news, but when Blaine's own father was a homophobe, he didn't think he should tell Kurt about it? There was a twisted logic to that, Kurt thought, but his head was too heavy to really think it through.

"Come," Blaine said, "let's go home."

But Kurt shook his head. He was not going back there, not unless he was sure Mr. A was not there.

"Am staying here," he yawned as he tried to find a comfortable position.

"Kurt, I don't really think that's a good id-" Blaine started, but he stopped when Kurt snuggled closer to him and laid his head on his shoulder, his eyes closed. He looked very tired, Blaine thought. Maybe he should just let him be? He slumped down in his chair a little bit so he could rest his head against Kurt's, and closed his own eyes. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

.

Kurt felt the soft weight of Blaine's head press against his own, and a smile curled around his lips. He was fairly sure this wasn't exactly what Mercedes had meant when she had said he had to "get his moves on". He was also fairly sure tomorrow morning he would be sore all over from sleeping in a chair, but at least it had worked, and he thoroughly enjoyed being this close to Blaine. He sighed... he would sleep well, tonight.