Chapter 17

Author's Note:  Sorry in advance for the craziness that ensues below.  Shout out to Athena (klainegettingmarried on Tumblr)… Good luck on your crazy midterms!  Hey, tell me what you guys think, will you?  This one's a gloriously long and action-packed situation… it's all fiction.  You know how I roll!  Also, to answer many questions… I am working on a sequel right now and I'm a few chapters in but my thought/writing process is a little complicated so I'm assuming I'll get it out over the summer some time.  Feel free to beg for a sooner release date over on Tumblr!  Anything you want to see in the sequel?  Open to suggestions because I literally have no idea what the hell I'm doing. 

Also, please go follow @CynicalGlee on Twitter.  The actual only account getting me through the treacherous hiatus.  Winter hiatuses are always worse because it's cold and I have no Glee.  Womp.  Hurrah!  Enjoy!

School is… school.  It's bearable, but hardly.  Blaine whizzes through his tests and quizzes, as usual, and is still trying to keep his head down and go through the days unbothered.   As much as he wants to torment every single one of those assholes he goes to school with, he knows that Kurt is right – he can't let anyone get in his way of graduation.  There are people that definitely try, but they are eventually scared away by his intimidating glares and threats.  All of the said threats are absolutely empty. 

Regardless of how terrible his day is, pushing through the door to the Lima Bean makes him happy every single afternoon.  The Lima Bean has become his sanctuary.  The owner is his savior, lover, and best friend.  All is right in the walls of this world.  It's like a fantasy world, complete with positivity and unlimited amounts of caffeine and chocolate croissants.  And love; it's pure, unconditional love from a man almost twice his age but someone who has never once judged him or what he's all about.  Blaine is happy.

He settles in, spreading out his homework at their table, failing to see Kurt anywhere.  When he asks, Austin sheepishly explains that he's gone to the grocery store to pick up some milk.  It seems like they are always running out of milk; Kurt should just order enough in the beginning of the week and Blaine's not sure why he doesn't.  But that's beside the point. Blaine groans, remembering that he came back that one time with milk and a date.  He helps Austin out at the register after punching in and they tag team the line of students and adults alike patiently waiting for caffeine to flow through their veins before they fall asleep right then and there.

The screaming brat wailing at his inattentive parent, demanding to leave, does not help Blaine's headache in the slightest, nor does the crash and high-pitched squeal out of his mother's mouth.

Blaine doesn't hate his job; not even close.  He loves that he gets to hang out with Kurt and help him at the shop and be employed by him, especially when Kurt's done so much for him to keep him safe.  He loves that Kurt saved him from juvie or worse by employing him in the first place, and he'll be forever grateful.  It's just that he doubts they'd be together if that whole jail thing didn't happen.  He also thinks that he probably wouldn't be working here all the time if he wasn't forced to by the state of Ohio, because Kurt would have never hired him if he didn't need to.

xK&Bx

Kurt pushes through the door with two heavy gallons of milk laced around fingers of the same hand, and his phone balanced between his ear and shoulder.

“Okay.  I will let you know.  Love you!”  Blaine sees the screen go dark in the nook of his boyfriend's neck but he doesn't move it.  Instead, he switches one gallon to the other hand and looks around for Blaine.

“Blaine?” 

Blaine's already upright from crouching to concentrate intently on the smashed sugar canister being thrown in anger by the fucking brat with the unapologetic mother.  He stands over it to make sure people know there is broken glass.

“Hey, pretty boy.  Be careful, there's glass everywhere because some little brat just ruined my life.”  He sweeps up the rest of the glass and leans the broom up against their table, rushing to help him with the milk.  He kisses him on the cheek, takes his phone from the balancing act on his neck and trails back to the condiment station and places the gallons on the countertop there. 

“Hi.”  Kurt's voice is a little shaky, taking his phone back and twirling it between his fingers; he almost sounds nervous, he knows he does.  He grabs the milk and starts to fill the appropriate jugs.

“Kurt?  What's wrong?”

He looks at Blaine and forces a half-smile on his face.  Fucking adorable.

“Hi.  Um, what, do you umm… do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

Blaine grins.  He thinks Kurt must be nervous because he's inviting him over for a holiday dinner with his family.  If it was appropriate to maul his face with his tongue in this moment, he so would right now. 

“Hmmm.”

“Blaine.”  Kurt looks at Blaine with hopeful eyes and wonderment.

“What are you asking, pretty boy?”

When nothing but a stare comes out of Kurt, Blaine sighs and shrugs.

“Well, I actually have plans already, babe.  I mean, I'll know more after we talk about it, but I think I'm having dinner with my other boyfriend and his family.  However…” He trails off for effect.  “He hasn't confirmed anything with me yet, so I'll let you know?”  He smiles bigger and gnaws on his bottom lip, just in case he was too presumptuous in thinking that was what Kurt was going to say.  For all Blaine knows, now that he's thinking about it, Kurt probably was going to offer him a ride to the homeless shelter by McKinley.  Shit.

When Kurt meets his eyes though, Blaine knows exactly what he'll be doing on Thanksgiving.  “Mmm.  Cancel on him.  I'd like you to come with me, if you want?  I have a plus one to my parents' Thanksgiving that they host every year and Carole said she really wants to meet you.  I want you to meet them.  Officially, I mean.  Like, as my boyfriend.”

“You've told them about me being your boyfriend.”  It's not quite a question.

Kurt's lips curl upward teasingly as he approaches his boyfriend by the condiments.  “Of course I did.  I can't stop telling them about you, B.  They've been hearing about you ever since we kissed that one time.”

“You really want me there?”  Blaine raises an eyebrow and fetches the broom again.  Blaine takes a step to close the gap between the two and looks up at him, opening his mouth just a hair – enough to know that Kurt is being driven to the edge of the earth, bat-shit crazy – and stares, waiting for the honest answer.  Blaine grabs one of Kurt's hips and squeezes.

“Nah.  Nevermind.”  Kurt's smiling; it's a joke.  “Are you kidding?”  He sighs and takes a deep breath.  “You know how much I hate when you believe that you're not wanted.  Do you want to come with me to my parents' house for Thanksgiving, baby boyfriend?”

Blaine laughs from his belly.  “Yeah.  I do.  Should we bring something?  Something delicious and pumpkin-flavored for dessert, or is that too domestic?”  He leans in for a kiss but breaks away centimeters from Kurt's lips, teasing, spinning around with the broom, and finishing clearing the mountain of sugar on the floor below them. 

Kurt doesn't verbally suppress his groan of frustration and parades back to his position in the back room.  Blaine smirks at the sexual control they have over each other at any given moment, and it feels incredible to switch the power trip every so often.  He gives the older man a second to get situated in his office there, then follows his exact tracks.

“Oh, and Kurt?”  He's leaning on the frame of the door with a hip popped and an eyebrow drawn toward his hairline.

“Hmm?”  He's seated with his legs crossed checking the email he's missed since twenty minutes ago.

“Hey.  I missed you today.”  He perches atop Kurt's higher knee and kisses him with passion on his lips.

“Missed you, too.”  Kurt declares, hot air being exchanged through slightly opened mouths.

“Love you.”

“Love you.”  He smiles at the boy. 

“We have to talk.  Baby boyfriend?  Really?”

Kurt laughs and hangs his head.  “I was really proud of that one.”

“Yeah, well.”  Blaine smirks and shakes his head.

“Come to think of it, we really should figure something else out because I just cannot with the constant reminder that I was in fifth grade when you were born.  Now, get back to work.”  Kurt deadpans but is smiling by the end of what he needs to say.

Blaine snorts.  “Aye aye, boss.”  He winks and disappears, slapped ass and all.

xK&Bx

Honestly, the two weeks leading to Thanksgiving is hell.  Blaine knows autumn-flavored coffee is always everyone's favorite, but really with the monstrous amounts of pumpkin things?  And the worst thing is, he's obsessed with pumpkin.  On top of his work, he can't seem to keep his school work straight and prioritized because he continues to receive extra essay assignments to thoroughly explain his bad-boy ways on top of all his normal assignments and studying.  Detention is thrown into the mix the Monday before Thanksgiving; it's just an added bonus to his already-packed schedule. Strike two.

Blaine: Prettyyyyyyyy boyyyyyy…
Kurt: Baby Boyfriend?
Blaine: Shut up.  I have to stay late at school today and tomorrow…
Kurt: God Blaine, what did you do?
Blaine: How do you know I did anything!
Kurt: Just get here when you can please?  We're really busy and already out of pumpkin!  Love you!!!
Blaine: They're telling me 4:30.  SORRY BABY!
Kurt: What did you do?
Blaine: Tell you about it later.  Love you!

Kurt sighs and pockets his phone.  He loves the boy, there's no denying it, but why can't he just shut his mouth and stay out of trouble?  He needs to have a serious conversation with him when he sees him tonight.  Throughout the mixing and stirring and brewing, Kurt allows his mind to wander, fantasizing about their lives together and Blaine.  He's got Blaine.  He has to keep Blaine in check so the next part of their lives can begin.

xK&Bx

Christian Anderson is patiently awaiting his son's departure from school.  He's sitting in the driver's seat of his brand new shiny BMW sedan he traded in two weeks ago as an upgrade.  He's planted in the student parking lot knowing damn well that this is the door Blaine routinely leaves from.  He swears sometimes, that kid has a bad case of obsessive-compulsive disorder.  One change in his day and all hell breaks loose.  He opens the car door and leans against it when he sees his son rushing down the stairs and out of the building.

“Blaine!”  He screams from across the parking lot at his little faggot son.  God, why does he have to be so damn short and petite, so gay? 

Blaine squints to where his father is standing and throws a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun.  Blinking, he approaches his dad but keeps a ten-foot pole between them.  If he had an actual one on hand, he would literally put it horizontally between them, inserted into each belly button for stability.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out why my son is spitting on a teacher, after I'd gone and sent him to Dalton Academy.  Don't you have any manners, boy?”  Blaine notices immediately that his father is getting more furious by the second.  He instinctively takes two steps backward. 

Yeah, Blaine spit on a teacher when he was in his face about texting in class, but it wasn't on purpose.  No one would ever believe that he was spitting out words and sneezed and a small ball of phlegm graced its appearance across the old hag's chin.  Sorry.

“Have a great afternoon, father.”  He mock-salutes and about-faces, heading right back up the same stairs he just flew down, but is forced to a halt when Christian's hand crushes down on the top of his left shoulder, squeezing and twisting with no possibility to release it from the hold. 

“You are coming with me.”

“I have work.”

“With that fairy ass cockpipe?  Hell no.  I should fucking lock you in the basement until you're 30, you worthless piece of shit.”  And he ushers him to the car, throws him in the backseat like the child he is, and slams the door inches from his face as he tries to reposition himself to get out.  He would text message Kurt, but he doesn't trust his boyfriend enough to stay out of it.  If Kurt showed his pretty face at the Anderson household, especially with the sole purpose to stop his father from beating him up or simply saving Blaine, it would be a lot more disastrous than this is about to be.  Blaine thinks about whether or not he should let Santana know he's been captured by the enemy, but quickly decides against it because he wouldn't put it past his father to beat up a girl.  So Blaine sits in the backseat, forehead kissing the cold glass, pouting all the way home, and essentially sacrificing his life for the people he loves.  He's plotting ways to block his father from hurting him too much this time, but deems it virtually impossible after the trouble he's gotten into at school, and the fact that it's been so long without a proper beating.  He thinks this is the time that it might be over the top, as though any of the other attacks weren't. 

The ride is full of homophobic slurs, even some Blaine's never heard before, so much so that he could actually put Urban Dictionary to shame.  The name calling is all rather juvenile and not thought out at all, although he has to hand it to his father for sometimes being so damn creative in all the variations of the word “cock.”  Really, truly impressive.  The BMW sedan comes to a halt in front of the suburban mansion Blaine hates, and his sperm donor heads up the few stairs onto the porch, looking back expectedly when he finds that Blaine is still in the same position in the back seat of the car. 

“God!  Fuck you.”  Blaine mumbles under his breath and shuffles up to where Christian Anderson is waiting for him.  He's the epitome of angry teenager right now and always in the presence of his father, complete with a scowl overtaking his face and arms hugged tightly around his torso, as if he's trying to protect the blow to the ribs he's inevitably going to get this evening.  He follows him into the foyer but does not remove his shoes.  He figures he'll need them soon enough for all of the running away that's about to ensue, hopefully successfully, and hopefully for the very last time. 

He holds in the hall, conclusively mindful of the padding across the floor and into the kitchen from the other man.  His father opens and slams a drawer, swings the refrigerator ajar, and pops a can that's definitely not soda.  Blaine is a patient boy; he can stand here in the foyer for as long as it takes until it is safe for him to run.  He eyes the keys to his father's car, but quickly comes to the conclusion of refraining from stealing it since Christian Anderson is just fucking hanging around until he has another opportunity to not bail Blaine out of his next holding cell or permanent living space in a windowless cement box.  Besides, he's eighteen now.  He needs to play his cards just right and not get into serious trouble if he ever wants to get his anklet off.

Blaine moves slowly and carefully back to the front door and grasps the knob.  He turns it ever so lightly until it clicks quietly enough for Blaine to be the only one to hear.  But, of course, it's like his dad is a damn vampire bat; the man has excellent hearing and definitely some sort of sixth sense when it comes to Blaine's escape route, at least most of the time and when he's not terribly drunk.  He's unruffled when he catches Blaine with a half-open door, slowly opening it farther in an attempt to slip out without so much as a squeak.

“Get the fuck back in here.”  Christian actually growls, and behold in the depths of his throat.

The smack is somewhat expected, as is the fist in the center of his jugular.  It feels like pure habit with each kick to the rib, jab to the back of the knees, punch to the head.  All of Blaine's predictions become real life as they always do, and although he was prepared for it to happen, he's never, ever prepared for the pain of everything coming together and bruising at exactly the same moment.  The carbonated liquid that's thrown at him, the saliva and phlegm that's dripping from his ear, the metal can crushed on impact against the center of his forehead – these are just actions that he has to live with as long as he is Christian Anderson's son, and there's not a damn thing any one person could do about it.

If he's being completely honest with himself, he anticipated for it to be a little more brutal than what he actually got, considering he hasn't given his father the opportunity to really ruin and bruise him in a few weeks, maybe even months.  The time has gone fast, Blaine admits, as he lies there in a puddle of spit and sweat and despair.  There's only a little bit of blood, only from his nose this time and that's… actually sort of comforting.  Christian has fled the scene (or at least the room), as per usual, and Blaine begins the excruciating process of escape.  He's bending at the knee, wincing and stopping, bending at the waist, wincing and stopping, bending at the neck… wincing and stopping until he's completely off premises.  The weirdest part of it all is that Christian didn't make it hard for Blaine to leave.  He has a feeling that very observation is going to come back to bite him in the ass. 

After what seems like an actual year and a half, he's up and out and no one can ever argue that this boy is not strong willed and stubbornly determined to stay alive and as safe as possible.  He decides in this moment that he's going to ask Kurt if he could officially move in.  He prays to a god that he doesn't believe in that Kurt will think that's a great idea, for Blaine's safety, if nothing else. 

When he's far enough away from the mansion on the hill, he yanks his phone out of his pocket and dials the most familiar number he's ever had in his possession. 

xK&Bx

Ducking in the woods on the side of the winding road into town, Blaine waits for his boyfriend to save him. 

“Okay, baby.  I'm on Maple.  Where are you?”  Kurt's voice is shaky; he has no idea what he's about to drive into. 

“Just go slow, I'm on the side of the road, just keep coming toward Burger King.”

Kurt slows and looks everywhere for his bruised and battered boy.  When he finally spots him, he pulls over, throws the car into park, and jumps out.

“I knew something was wrong when you weren't answering your phone, but I thought it was more along the lines of a longer detention or something!”  Kurt kneels down to examine Blaine's face.  “Oh! B, honey.”  The look in his eye is pity.  “I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again.”  Kurt helps Blaine get up and into his car.  He reaches over the boy to buckle his seatbelt gently and runs around the front to get into the driver's seat.  He looks over to Blaine the same way he did when they first met. Like Blaine has been broken.

“Don't look at me like that, Kurt.”  He tilts his head only slightly to meet his eyes.  “Like I'm a little doll.”

“I'm sorry.”  Kurt looks at him again and half-smiles, taking his hand and draping them both over the shift while he drives. 

“Blaine?  Can I please take you to Carole?  It's closer and she's a nurse…”

“I just… please just take me home.”

“What?  Baby, no!  What if he comes back?”

“No, I mean.  Your place.  Home.”

“Home.”  Kurt takes Blaine's hand in his and guides it to his mouth.  He presses his lips to Blaine's knuckles.  “Home.”

They stay connected the entire way back to the apartment on Main Street.

xK&Bx

“Are you sure you don't need anything?”

“Just you.”  Blaine is leaning against Kurt with a lazy arm across his torso, fingers playing right above the waistline.  Blaine's head finds his boyfriend's shoulder, his mouth allowing controlled, short breaths to escape.  His slight movements are choppy and careful.

“And you're sure you're okay?  You don't need…”

“Just you, Kurt.”  Blaine's voice cracks with a hint of humiliation from having to repeat himself as if the floodgates are going to burst open at any second.  His eyes are dangerously glassy; he blinks rapidly to shy the moisture deep down into his sockets.

Kurt tries to catch his boyfriend's eye, but fails.

“You know, I've never seen you cry.”  Kurt says at that, noncommittally.  “You can, if you want to.”

“No one's ever loved me like you do, you know.  Overwhelmed with that plus everything hurts.”  A tear falls.

Kurt's heart breaks for Blaine; he can't imagine growing up with no support from anyone, or feeling alone during the years when a boy needs someone the most.

“You're right, no one could love you the way I do.  It's early, but I just… know.  Your past has made you into the incredible survivor that you are, Blaine.  Don't you dare let anyone tell you any different, do you understand me?  I'm so proud of you for getting this far, despite your shitty, shitty family.”

Kurt feels the tiny nod against his shoulder.  He glances at the boy with the purple eye and the swollen bottom lip and the cut drawing a vertical line over his eyebrow.  They lock looks and Kurt smiles.  “I love you so much, Blaine.  It's probably too soon, but let's move in together.  Not just accidently leaving more and more stuff around and never coming to get it?  I want you to move in.  I need you to stay safe and escape with me.” 

Blaine removes his head from Kurt's shoulder and takes his hand.

Kurt continues, “I want to be perfectly honest with you, most of it has to do with trying to keep you as safe as it is in my control, but about 25% of it is me wanting to live with my boyfriend, even if the rest of the world thinks it's too soon.” 

“My, my.  Have the tables turned, Hummel?”

“I'll never live that one down.”  He says with a shrug, “But I want to live with you.”

For the first time tonight, Blaine smiles.  He nods his confirmation, and Kurt carefully kisses his cheek. 

“Good.  You're never leaving.”

“As he… you know.  All that kept me conscious was trying to figure out a way to beg you that I move in officially.”  There's a pause as both boys take that in.  Blaine speaks again, “I'd be dead or in jail without you, Kurt Hummel.”

“And I'd be a terribly lonely mess without you, baby boyfriend.”

If they say anything else for the rest of the night, it's not important because they're with each other and everything is going to be okay.  They manage to get Blaine into bed and he falls asleep almost immediately. 

xK&Bx

The few days between Monday and Thanksgiving Thursday fly.  Kurt and Blaine don't spend too much time downstairs, but Blaine does cut school so he doesn't have to face anyone with bruised ribs and a cut-open face just yet. This was always the issue with his going back to school.  Kurt puts in a secret call to his favorite teacher from McKinley, Mr. Schuester, to have him cover for Blaine with the rest of the staff.  The teacher doesn't ask, but knows Kurt well enough to know that he has the situation under control.  If anyone can seamlessly take care of something no matter how out of this world and crazy, it's most definitely Kurt Hummel.  They wish each other a happy Thanksgiving and hang up. 

It's Thursday morning and Kurt's since made Julie her own set of keys to the Lima Bean so there are no further interruptions, especially if Blaine is going to be here indefinitely.  They wake wrapped in each other leisurely at eight, each eye fluttering open, but squinting back at the ray of sunshine hitting Blaine's face.

“Baby bear.”

Blaine opens his eyes again and smiles at the endearment.  “Honestly, these pet names are getting kind of ridiculous, Hummel.”

“Panda bear, snickerdoodle, honey comb?”  Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's waist gently, still mindful of the soreness and bruising.  “Love you.” 

Blaine shamelessly makes out with Kurt, and Kurt feels the smile against his teeth. 

“Still up for Thanksgiving dinner at my parents'?”

“I am.  I need your help getting ready though.”

“Of course.”  Kurt removes himself from the covers and disappears into their shared closet and thumbs through the few pieces of clothing Blaine already has at the apartment.  He loves piecing together outfits for his boyfriend, although he thinks he'd still look as amazing in a potato sack.

“Just so you know,” He yells out from the closet, sorting through Blaine's limited but decent selection of collared plaid shirts.  “Carole is probably going to be a mess today.  And set a place for my brother.  It's hardest around the holidays.  Don't take it personally, okay?  She's really excited to have you there and might even try to put on a brave face for you.  But no guarantees, it's only been a few years.”

“Is it hard around the holidays for you too?”  Blaine comes up behind Kurt, watching him card through the closet's contents.

“It's always hard.”  Kurt unracks a shirt and smiles at his boyfriend sadly.  “Between Finn and my mom, they'll always be missing from the table, but especially at the Thanksgiving or Christmas table.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”  Blaine struggles in pain to nuzzle closer.  He's drawn to the man he loves. 

“Later, I think.  Post-wine maybe.”

Blaine sighs.  “Well, in an effort to keep your mind off of sad memories, and in an effort to make really awesome ones, can we go grocery shopping on the way over there?  I promised pumpkin-flavored dessert.”

“Oh!” He peaks out to look at Blaine, swaying a little to find a decent position for his ribs.  “You don't have to babe, Carole… well, Carole tries.  I usually just bring a pumpkin loaf or something from downstairs.”  These are perks of owning a coffee shop with a daily delivery of pastries and breads from vendors.

“Let me?  It's a recipe I made up and I've made it every year.  It's really good, you'll love it.  Especially because we know how you feel about pumpkin-flavored anything.”  Blaine leaves out the part where he puts it in his mini-refrigerator in his room and saves it for himself.  

Kurt nods.  “Okay.”  They smile; Blaine won.  “Can I still pick your outfit?”

Blaine laughs from his belly.  “Nothing too uncomfortable, pretty boy.  Super tight pants are reserved for you today, so I can stare at your unbelievable legs around your family and they can't even deny that you look incredible.”  He holds his breath and shakes his head dramatically.  “And then we can come home and fuck like it's the end of the world, yeah?”

Kurt laughs.  “You give me too much credit.”  He lays out an outfit on their (their!) bed and winks.  “Take a shower and maybe I'll join you in a few.  For the love of God, Anderson, be careful in there.”

“Yes, sir.”  He approaches Kurt and hugs him lightly from behind, hooking his chin on his shoulder. 

“Get ready, you little panda bear snookum kiss-face.”  Kurt turns around in his arms and kisses his forehead and nose before disappearing into the walk-in closet again.  “You feel okay?  I'll wrap your ribs after you get clean.” 

Blaine nods, confirming he's the luckiest person on the planet. 

They shower, not together because Kurt gets caught up in choosing an outfit himself.  They wrap ribs and make themselves even prettier and before eleven, they are ready and out the door.  Blaine is easily the slower of the two down the stairs.  Kurt recognizes the torture on his face and after some effort of convincing, Blaine is on Kurt's back, rolling his eyes but grinning at the fact that Kurt had officially convinced him to accept an impromptu piggyback ride necessary for getting him to street level in a timely fashion. 

“You are ridiculous.”  Blaine's feet touch the ground again and he smiles when Kurt turns to face him once more.  He takes his hand and walks the twenty feet with Blaine in tow into the Lima Bean. 

“Best commute ever.”  Kurt grins at his boyfriend and pecks him on the lips before opening the door and ushering him in.

Austin and Julie both stand behind the counter, racking in the time and a half for a completely empty coffee shop.  The countertops are pristine; the food case is neat and clean. 

Blaine waddles in before Kurt and goes straight to the Carrie Table and sits sideways on the chair so his legs can rest on the chair next to the one he's seated in and his back can lean against the pole.  His eyes clench closed at the new angle his ribs are fighting through. 

Kurt sighs, making a pained face, and heads to his employees behind the counter.  Making small talk with them, he learns that it's been dead all morning and they've spent the day so far experimenting with new types of winter drinks. 

“Is Blaine okay, Kurt?”  Julie is such a sweet girl, always more concerned with others than for her own self. 

“Oh, he'll be okay, Jules.  Just a little… misfortune.”  He smiles at her over the espresso machine.  The afternoon of the terrible accident only a few nights ago, he was experimenting with syrups and flavors until he got it right.  He's named this one the “Blaine” because it's a little sweet (white mocha) and a tiny bit savory (gingerbread), has a nip of spice with a sprinkle of a special nutmeg/cinnamon blend he created, and it's served extra hot.  Graceful as ever, Kurt glides to the stack of cups on the other side of the station, juggling the top cup until it spins in his hands.  He is handed a Sharpie by Julie, seemingly reading his mind.  He writes a message to his boyfriend directly on the cup, as if it's a coffee order. 

You are beautiful.  I love you.

He steams the milk, pulls the shots of Espresso, finds the foam stencil, and manipulates the cinnamon/nutmeg to be shaped as a heart with the hard contrast of the white foam.  He also pours a Medium Drip, just in case Blaine hates the latte.  He rushes over to an aching Blaine.

“Babe, if you're not up for this, please just say so.  We can go back upstairs and order in.”

Blaine looks up at him and grins.  “No, no.  I'm fine, I promise.” 

Kurt pushes the latte over to him and looks at him.  “This is one of my experiments.” 

“Yesssss!”  He shifts until his feet are on the ground and he's facing Kurt, admires the heart, and takes a sip.  “Holy mother fucking shit.”

“That bad?”  Kurt scrunches his nose.

“Oh my God, Kurt.  You are, like, a fucking coffee connoisseur or something.  Do you remember when the only thing I could say to you that first day we actually fucking spoke was something about iced tea being too sweet?”  Blaine laughs.  “I'm such a tool.”

Kurt giggles and blushes.  After all of this time, Kurt still blushes.  Daily.  Hourly.  He never stops.

“You like?”  He takes a sip of Blaine's backup drink. 

Blaine leans forward as seductively as one can with frayed ribs.  “I love.”  He puts the cup back down on the table when the bold script catches his eye.  He twirls the cup to read the message and he almost feels like he's levitating into the heavens. 

“Pretty boy.”  He breathes out the words, cracking them in the middle, and smiles through wetness of his eyeballs.

“I want you forever.  Too soon?”

“Forever, but also always?”  Blaine abandons the latte to satisfy his thirst within his boyfriend.  He sits across Kurt's thighs and wraps his arms around his neck, leaning in so that Kurt's head is positioned perfectly into the crook of Blaine's chin.  “We're so cheesy, pretty boy.”

“Can't believe it took me so long to get my head out of my ass.”

Blaine shrugs with one shoulder. “I wasn't irresistible until I turned eighteen.  It's totally understandable.”  He teases, “And besides, it doesn't matter because right now is all that matters.  And we're together now.”

“My boyfriend, Socrates.”

“Whatever.”  He laughs.  “Can we go?”

“Yep.” Kurt bops him on the nose, a gesture to make Blaine get up. 

Blaine stands and Kurt follows suit.  “Bye guys!  You can start closing and leave whenever you're done, okay?”

“Thanks, Kurt.  Happy Thanksgiving, you guys.”  Julie says with that sunshine smile plastered on her face.

Blaine smiles at his co-workers and takes Kurt's hand. 

“Come on, pretty boy.”

xK&Bx

They find themselves at the local – insanely busy – grocery store where Kurt met Sebastian all those months ago.  Kurt's pushing the cart down the baking aisle, and Blaine is riding the cart, sandwiched between Kurt's chest and the shopping cart's push bar.  It hurts but there's nothing like being able to rub up against each other and not be looked at twice.

“Almond extract or liqueur if we can find it, lady fingers, pumpkin puree, heavy whipping cream, mascarpone cheese, powdered sugar, cocoa powder, and dark chocolate chips.”  Blaine rattles off from memory in a giddy way.  He's so excited to finally be spending Thanksgiving with an honest-to-god family.  He's sure this is already the best Thanksgiving ever. 

“Mmmm, God Blaine.  That sounds perfect.”

“It is.”  He bounces off the cart, ignoring his pain, and stalks up the aisle in search of the very important ingredients. 

Kurt stops the cart and pulls it off to the side, watching Blaine gather everything in his arms.  Feeling Kurt's eyes on him, he looks up at him and winks, grinning by and large.  Kurt approaches to help with the overflowing items in Blaine's arms, and Blaine unarguably hands them off so Kurt can drop them in the cart. 

In a noticeably better mood than their time at the Lima Bean, Blaine hops over to Kurt, ignoring the shooting pains through his midsection.  “I found almond liqueur!  Usually, they don't have it in this God forsaken nothing-state.”  He places it carefully in the top of the cart usually reserved for a toddler.  “We just need the cream and the cheese.  But not the cream cheese.”  Blaine looks up at Kurt like a kid in a candy store, complete with sparkling eyes and a grin to match.

Turning on his heel, Blaine walks down the aisle toward the refrigerated shelves in the back corner of the store.  Like there's a string tied between two hearts that suddenly has too much tension before it snaps, Kurt follows the teenager obediently and without words.  As Blaine looks back to him and turns the corner to make sure he's still with him, Kurt's phone vibrates and he fishes it out of his pocket to read and answer whatever message one of only a few people could have for him.

As silently predicted, it's Julie letting him know that all is well and they're closing up for the holiday now.  She says “Happy Thanksgiving” and “thanks for letting us go early” and Kurt is once again blown away by the gift of Julie's loyalty.  He doesn't know a young person, Blaine included, that would be as committed to that job as Julie has been since day one.  Kurt's not paying attention to where he's stepping, but slowly following the direction of where Blaine is headed.  He looks up three seconds too late, as he's colliding his cart with another.  These aisles really need to be a little wider, or Kurt needs to learn how to pay attention to where he's steering the cart within this stupid grocery store.

“Oh my God!  I'm so sorry!  Texting and driving kills, and here I am still doing it!” 

She's a petite Asian lady, not a day over forty.  Her hair is pin-straight and falls right past her shoulders.  She has flawless skin, perfectly chocolate brown eyes and a jaw line that's all too familiar.  

“Oh, sweetie.  That's okay, we are all so busy today!”  She smiles kindly, forgiving him for nearly plowing right through her and her entire Thanksgiving dinner. 

Kurt smiles politely and judges her choice of all-organic, expensive options lying in her cart.

She glances into his cart and her eyes light up, looking at Kurt. 

“Pumpkin-Chocolate Tiramisu?  I thought my son made that up…”

“Hey, Kurt?”  Blaine comes back into the aisle, fully believing he's lost Kurt to another guy purposely damaging his shopping cart.  That date with that Meer Kat guy will always be a soft spot. 

“Mom???”  Blaine rushes up against Kurt and slips his hand to intertwine fingers. “Are you okay?  Did she say anything fucked up?”  Blaine searches Kurt's eyes for pain or despair.

Instead, Kurt's eyes are blown with shock.  By the few stories he's heard of Blaine's mom, she didn't really seem too bad.  If he met her on the street, as he kind of just did, he would probably think she's pleasant enough to not be offended by the end of the conversation.  But by the tense stance shown in front of him, things are getting pretty awkward quickly between mother and son. 

Blaine's mother's demeanor changes drastically.  “Your father told me about this.  I guess it's true, then.”  She rolls her eyes and draws her face up in disgust toward Kurt.  She looks back to her son and sputters, “Are you coming to dinner?”

Blaine scoffs.  There is nothing he would want to do less.  He bows his head and looks at his feet.

“We have plans.”  Kurt closes the few inches between them so that they are touching all the way down their sides. 

Blaine's mother looks Kurt up and down, curled lip and almost growling.  She turns back to Blaine.  “Cooper is in town.”

“Send my regards.”  Blaine almost whispers the words.

Kurt is stunned at how deflated Blaine is in the presence of his mom.  He knows it was a tough childhood, but he never in a million years would have thought Blaine to be scared of his own mother.

“Sondra?”  Blaine's father's voice echoes throughout the aisle and Kurt turns his entire body to focus solely on Blaine.  Of course he's here.

“Stay with me, we'll get through this, don't freak out.  He won't hurt you.”  Kurt is speaking in an almost-whisper, soft enough for only Blaine to hear it.  They'll be okay.  “Come on, let's just go.”  Kurt tugs on Blaine's arm lightly so that he's following him down the aisle toward the cream and cheese. 

“Fairy fucking pedophile!  You watch your bare back!”

Kurt almost hears a giggle from the sweet lady who just bumped into his cart, the lady who spoke of his son like she loved him.

At his father's words toward Kurt, Blaine visibly tenses and growls low in his throat.

“Hey.  He's just trying to get a reaction, do not give him one.”  Kurt grips Blaine's hand so tightly, he's wondering how the circulation of blood is coming through his veins in his wrist, into his hand.  Out of the corner of his eye, he witnesses the second tear he's ever seen streaming down Blaine's already splotchy face.  Kurt guides him as fast as they can walk without Blaine's ribs rubbing against each other, and they stand browsing aimlessly for the particular type of cheese.  Blaine only stares at the display; he's shut down and distant from the world.  Kurt has experienced this shade of Blaine a few times now and doesn't mind him in the slightest.  He focuses on the task at hand, finds the cheese, and holds it up for Blaine's approval.

“This okay?” 

Blaine graces him with the slightest movement to his head, shakes it up and down only once.  Kurt nods too, throws the container into the cart, situates Blaine's arm through Kurt's own elbow, and pushes toward the milk and cream.

“Almost done.  Do you want to just go?  We can be rebels and not even put the cheese back in the refrigerator.”

“We're almost done.”  Blaine takes the cart from him and pushes it along with one hand, the other holding Kurt's tightly.

Finding the cream is an easy task, so they do at once and hurry to the line at the front of the store. 

They unload onto the conveyer belt and wait for the elderly woman in front of them to organize her coupons and hand them to the clerk. 

Blaine sighs and launches himself into Kurt's arms so he can hold him.  Kurt rocks him steadily, touching his lips to Blaine's, staying in that particular position a few seconds too long and too inappropriately for Ohio.  There are stares at the taboo couple, but Kurt stares back until they look away shyly and intimidated. 

The check-out procedure takes entirely too long for either of them to process but soon they find themselves aboard Kurt's Navigator and driving out of the parking lot.  They only let go of each other's hands for enough time to load the bags into the back seat and get situated in the car. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later.”  His voice cracks again.

“Okay.” 

The silence is deafening.  Kurt switches on the radio and the low Christmas music that's already playing is annoying.  He hums along to “Baby, It's Cold Outside” for a verse and a half then turns his eyes to Blaine again.

“Your eyes are like starlight now…” Kurt sings and looks over at Blaine teasingly.  When there's no reaction, he continues.  “We can go home.  We don't have to go to my dad's.”

“Kurt, I want to.  Please.”

“Okay.”  He raises Blaine's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.  “Okay.”

xK&Bx

“Christian.”

His permanent scowl is more defined today.  “What?”  His temper is shorter than normal, his teeth grinding a bit deeper at the sight of his son and that monster out in public.  

“It's about time to show that homosexual a piece of your mind.  You get my baby back, you hear?”

“You know, Sondra.  Blaine is just as much a faggot as his little fairy boyfriend.  I think I should show them both a piece of my mind.”  He merges into traffic.

“You will do no such thing.  Get rid of the boyfriend and we'll send Blaine away to camp and be done with this mess.”

“I don't understand why you would spend any more money on him than we already have.”

“Finish the boyfriend, Christian.”

xK&Bx

Blaine perks up at the delicious smell of supper in the kitchen as Carole slaves away with an apron tied around her waist.  When introduced, she is as pleasant as ever and kisses both of his cheeks.

Burt shakes his hand firmly and pats his shoulder.  “It's good to have you, Blaine.”

“Thank you.  I'm glad to have been invited.”  He throws a shining, sparkling eye to Kurt who smiles at him and looks down sheepishly. 

“Blaine makes this amazing pumpkin tiramisu every year, you guys.  He's brought the tradition here.”  Kurt beams.

“Do you mind sharing the kitchen for a little while, Mrs….”

“Carole.”  Carole finishes for him.  “Of course I don't mind.  You make yourself comfortable wherever you'd like.”

Blaine smiles again.  Best Thanksgiving ever, despite this morning.

“Help me?”  He looks to Kurt for an answer.  Kurt unhooks two Lima Bean aprons from the pantry, because there is not a prouder father for his son's business. 

Blaine laughs lightly.  “Should I clock in?”

“Shut it, Anderson.”  Kurt smiles and slips it over his head as Blaine watches him like he moves the sun and the earth.  Kurt turns to his parents and smiles largely at them.  He's happy they're happy that he's happy.

They walk farther into the kitchen, leaving the parentals behind.

“So, if you could please find a bowl and fill it with about 2 inches of liqueur, you can start soaking the lady fingers.”

Kurt scrunches his nose as he opens the bottle.  “I prefer your fingers.”

“Ahem.”  Burt's face is blushed fire truck red and he's avoiding all sets of eyes.  Apparently, Burt and Carole followed the couple for further observation.

Blaine's face is soon burning and Kurt laughs at them both.

“Sorry Father, lady fingers are not preferable.”  He holds up the package and waves it at his dad.

Blaine hangs his head and blushes harder.  After that, he can't look at Kurt for the next ten minutes, in his rage of stirring and softening cheese, of blending in pumpkin puree and melting chocolate chips, swirled together with heavy cream.

Kurt only giggles in response to Blaine's embarrassment. 

xK&Bx

A Christmas Story is on the television, but Kurt and Blaine are both captivated in their food comas and in each other.  They're cuddled in the family room, patiently waiting for their stomachs to digest so they can sneak another spoonful of the Pumpkin-Chocolate Tiramisu. 

“You really outdid yourself with your required pumpkin-flavored dessert, baby.”

“You really think so?”  Blaine is drawing an undetermined pattern on Kurt's arm with his finger. 

“No.  I thought I'd lie about something like that.”  Kurt catches Blaine's hand halfway up his forearm and intertwines their fingers.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Kurt winks and pretends to zip his lips, throwing away the imaginary key.

Blaine nods, smirking at Kurt possessively.  “Has your dad said anything about me?”

“No, but he doesn't have to.  I think he's a little weirded out but nothing we can't work to break him into, right?”

“What?  He's weirded out?  What did I do?”  Blaine straightens his back and tries to appear taller, but it only hurts his ribs more.

“What?  No!  Blaine.  I mean because you're younger than me.  It's not a big deal at all, relax.”

Blaine exhales.  “Oh.  Jesus, Kurt.”  Blaine's somewhat relieved the only thing weirding out his in-laws is something he can't help, anyway.  Wait, in-laws?

“It's adorable how much you care about it, though.”

Blaine gives him a pointed look with a hint of embarrassment.  Chuckling an airy laugh through his nose, Kurt pats his boyfriend's knee twice, pushing off of it to stand.

“Need anything from the kitchen?”

“No.”  Blaine reaches for Kurt's tie and pulls down to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth.  “Pretty boy.”

Kurt smiles against Blaine's lips and gives him one more peck before straightening up again and drifting into the kitchen.

“Dad?”

Burt is leaning on the counter in front of the kitchen sink, scrubbing the same spot on a stuffing pot since Kurt's caught him.  He's staring out the window into the yard, still complete with the swing set of Kurt's youth.  There's frost on the edges of the glass; anyone would be able to tell it's below freezing outside right now. 

“Hey, Kurt.  Wanna dry?”

Kurt finds a microfiber towel near the sink and waits for his father to clean the pot, although it looks pretty spotless to him.  The silence is a bit awkward, and it's then that Kurt confirms Burt is trying to wrap his head around his son's relationship with a teenager. 

“Dad…”

“Look, kid.  I told you it wasn't a good idea, and I still do believe that because it's not.  You are on such a different level than him in your life, and it's just something that I can't support fully.  But you see the way he looks at you?  That's exactly how you look at him and I can tell that you both feel deeply for each other.  Right?”

“Right, but—”

“Nothing more, Kurt.  I'm not in the relationship.  My acceptance will come, so long as he's as good and polite as he's been tonight with you.  That's all that matters.”

“Dad, I put the Lima Bean on the market.  I want to move back to New York… with Blaine.”