Chapter 12, Pt. 1

That slice of cake has to have enough saturated fat to make me go up a pants size from just looking at it for too long. Kurt stared into the display case and wrinkled his nose.

"Have you decided on anything, sir?" The woman behind the counter smiled at him cheerfully.

"Not yet…" Kurt tried to hide a grimace as he eyed a row of cupcakes that each held more than enough frosting to ice an entire cake, "I'll let you know if I see something."

The woman nodded and moved on to someone else.

Kurt crouched lower to appraise a tray of cookies. One of those could work…

"Hummel?" A familiar voice caused Kurt to almost jump; he looked up to see David Karofsky frowning down at him.

"Hello, David," He straightened up, "What're you doing here?"

"Picking up stuff for my dad's office," David shrugged.

Kurt nodded and glanced back toward the case, "Any recommendations?"

"I'm surprised you eat this crap," Karofsky looked through the glass at the assortment of pastries too, "Don't you like flip your shit over carbs and processed shit?"

"It's an organic bakery and it's not for me, it's for Blaine," Kurt rolled his eyes.

Karofsky suddenly looked uncomfortable; he glanced around the space warily at the few other customers; shoved his hands deep in his pockets, "I, uh… I heard about him being sick and stuff."

Kurt raised and dropped his eyebrows in acknowledgement to the comment and folded his arms across his chest.

An awkward silence sat between them for a long minute while Karofsky shifted his weight from foot to foot, "Is he, um... is he doing okay?"

"He's doing all right," Kurt studied David curiously before adding, "But he has the appetite of an anorexic bird. My newest plan is to coerce him into eating something with enough calories to constitute a weeks worth of food without making him throw up."

Karofsky nodded slowly, "Cool. I mean, like, cool that he's uh, you know, doing good. Or I mean, I guess not good, but, uh—"

"I know what you're trying to say," Kurt said patiently.

Another silence lapsed between them as they both stared through the glass.

"I recognize you," the woman on the other side of the counter suddenly appeared again, this time directing her smile at David, "You've been in here before. Order for Karofsky, right?"

David nodded and handed a twenty across the display to her in exchange for a white cardboard box. He chewed at his lip for a second and then abruptly dug into his pocket to pull out a few more crumpled dollar bills. He dropped them down on the counter and nodded toward Kurt, "That's for whatever he picks out."

Kurt looked over at him in surprise, "David—"

"See ya around, Hummel," David mumbled and quickly turned toward the door.

Kurt watched him hurry off into the parking lot and disappear into a pine green Audi.

"Sir?" The woman behind him spoke hesitantly; she'd obviously been trying to get his attention for a while.

Kurt shook his head and turned back toward the display case and pointed toward a tray, "Sorry… I'll take one of those."

Driving to New Albany was turning into a grueling task in its own right. It wasn't that Kurt minded the distance or the toll it took on his wallet (his father had offered to pay for gas for the drives), no, it was the amount of time it allowed him to spend with his own thoughts. Being with Blaine meant focusing on filling his boyfriend's head with mindless chatter while they took a nearly daily walk around the block; tapping out songs on the piano at his side; rubbing his back and singing quietly when he was sick; it meant never having to focus on anything but the moment, and dropping into bed at night, too exhausted to even finish his moisturizing routine half of the time. Those two hours in the car, though… two hours to let those tiny nagging thoughts that had a nasty habit of taking root in the dark corners of his mind grow so fast and tangled they could snake their way around his entire brain and choke out any other thought. The e-mails piling up about the internship in New York; Rachel quietly asking him about the apartment they still needed to provide the down payment for; the tremor in Blaine's hand that had gotten worse rather than better; the overheard conversation the week before between a crying Elizabeth and somber John Anderson about the possibility of a second surgery. Kurt cranked the volume on his radio so high the speakers groaned an angry rattle and sang along so loud it hurt his throat; the thoughts were still louder. He parked his car haphazardly at the curb and jogged up to the front door, letting himself in and announcing his presence with a loud hello.

"In here!" Blaine called back; his voice muffled.

Kurt listened to the sound of a hair dryer running upstairs as he made his way toward the kitchen. Blaine was sitting on the floor in front of an open cupboard, "Did you fall?"

Blaine made a face at him, "No, my walking has been fine, thanks very much. I'm supposed to be looking for a—a, um…"

"What do you need it for?" Kurt crouched down next to him and peered into the space below the sink.

Blaine's brow was furrowed as he, too, stared in, "To put flowers in…."

"It starts with a v," Kurt offered, already pushing through a few cleaning products, "And are you sure this is where she keeps them?"

"Yeah; positive," Blaine pointed, "…a vase. And we have two of them."

Kurt spied it then. He reached into the far back corner of the cupboard and pulled the thing free; he put it down in Blaine's lap, "Does she care which one you use?"

"You'd be better at reading her mind than me—she keeps forgetting to finish her sentences and then flips out that I'm getting sicker or something when I don't know what she's talking about," Blaine rolled his eyes, "She's calmer during doctor's appointments than she is for this stupid visit from my family."

"She'll get over it once they're actually here," Kurt got to his feet and offered a hand to Blaine.

"You clearly don't know my mother," Blaine made a face and ignored Kurt's hand; he looked at the paper bag Kurt had dropped down on the island, "What's that?"

"It's for you, actually," Kurt eyed Blaine cynically, "Did you eat anything today?"

Blaine shrugged noncommittally and put the vase down on the counter.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I'll take that as a no."

"I'd rather not start another round of hanging out with the toilet all day with the added bonus of having my family hanging around," Blaine crossed his arms across his chest defensively.

"And if you don't eat you'll end up fainting—at least if you're puking you can lock the door and keep them out," Kurt pushed the bag closer to Blaine's side of the island.

Blaine let out an exasperated sigh but peered down into the bag; his face lit up, "Is this from Carol?"

Kurt snorted, "If I say yes will you be more likely to eat it?"

"Maybe," Blaine pulled the cookie from the bag and eyed it, "this thing is as big around as me."

"Which isn't saying much these days," Kurt looked down at Blaine's t-shirt than hung loosely off his shoulders. His frame had always been petite, but the past few weeks had taken a nasty toll on his weight.

Blaine pulled off a small piece and popped it into his mouth; chewed it thoughtfully.

"Good?" Kurt asked with a smile when Blaine broke off a second, bigger piece.

"Really good," Blaine smiled, "Thank you."

"It's Dave Karofsky you should be thanking, he paid for it," Kurt tilted his head; still confused about the oddly pleasant exchange.

Blaine made a face and dropped the cookie back into the bag.

Kurt laughed, "Don't be like that."

"I want nothing having anything to do with that guy," Blaine pushed the bag further away from him in an added show of his distaste.

"He's not all that bad, Blaine," Kurt pushed the bag back toward him, "He even asked how you were doing. He's not the monster he used to be."

Blaine's scowl faded some, but he shook his head, "I'm full anyway."

"That's fine," Kurt bit back a sigh and plucked the white paper bag from the countertop, "I'll put it in the pantry for later."

"Oh! Kurt, I didn't even know you were coming over today," Elizabeth looked at him with wide eyes when she appeared in the kitchen, vacuum in tow.

"He comes everyday, Mom," Blaine frowned at her.

"Yes, I suppose he does…" She looked momentarily conflicted, but then her eyes lit on the counter, "Oh! You found the vase! Do you think you could put the flowers in it too, honey?"

"Where are they?"

"Blaine, I told you, they're in the refrigerator." She looked him over with concern.

"A. Why are they in the fridge and B. Stop looking at me like that, you just told me to find the vase." Blaine shot her a look before opening up the refrigerator and peering inside, "…and C. I think you need to have your head checked, because they are definitely not in here."

"Blaine, be nice," Kurt frowned at the back of his head.

"Well they're not!" Blaine opened the door wider and stepped aside for them to see.

Elizabeth moaned, "I could have sworn I bought them!"

"Why do we even need them? They've seen the house—" Blaine slammed the fridge shut in his sudden irritation.

"We can go pick up a bouquet from the store," Kurt touched a hand to Blaine's arm, hoping the contact would calm him down.

"You and Blaine?" Elizabeth looked uncertainly between them.

"Sure," Kurt nodded quickly, "It'll get us out of the house for awhile and you can finish getting ready—love that dress by the way."

Elizabeth looked down at her dress and smiled despite herself, "Thank you, Kurt…. Blaine, get into my purse on your way out and get my credit card. There's a floral shop nearby, Kurt."

"I've seen it before," Kurt assured her, "And Blaine can help me find it if we do happen to get turned around. Any flower preferences?"

"Grandma Helen likes hydrangeas."

Elizabeth looked at Blaine—first surprised and then almost tenderly, "You always have such a good memory for those things, Blaine. Yes, if you can find them, then that would be lovely. If not, pick whatever you like best."

Blaine moved faster than Kurt—snatching the credit card from his mother's purse in the laundry room and hurrying out to wait impatiently at the passenger door of the Navigator while Kurt unlocked it.

"My, my, someone's in a rush," Kurt laughed when Blaine scrambled into the car.

"Do you know how often I get to leave this block save for doctor's appointments with anyone but my parents?" Blaine jumped when Kurt turned the key over in the ignition and the radio turned on to its same previous near ear splitting level.

Kurt punched his palm against the power button quickly, "Sorry about that."

"What were you trying to do in here, go deaf?" Blaine rolled his window down and stuck his arm out into the breeze as they made their way out of the neighborhood.

"Something like that," Kurt smiled off-handedly, "Tell me if you get car sick or something."

Blaine tipped his head toward the window, closed his eyes, and smiled blissfully as the wind hit his face, "Mmm, I won't."

Kurt couldn't help but smile at Blaine's bliss, "You're acting like you've never been let out of the house before."

"The only time I ever get out is for chemo and when my mother takes me with to run errands," Blaine rested his chin on his arm.

"You should have told me you wanted to get out more," Kurt reached over and squeezed Blaine's knee, "We'll start taking drives."

Blaine reached down and squeezed Kurt's hand, "How come you're so good to me, huh?"

"Because I'm selfless, giving, and attempting to get nominated for sainthood," Kurt glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled, "Or maybe I just love you."

When they got out of the car, Blaine was suddenly lagging—he hung back by the car until Kurt half-dragged him into the flower shop, "You are so bipolar—you were practically sprinting to get out of the house, and now you're getting all weird. What's your deal?"

Blaine shrugged and trailed after Kurt through the door, a bell tinkling overhead as they entered.

"Hello! Can I help you two find anything today?" an elderly woman smiled at them from behind a counter.

"Hydrangeas?" Kurt said hopefully, glancing toward Blaine as he wandered toward a cooler filled with bouquets.

"We have a few different ones," She came around the counter and waved for him to follow her to another cooler.

"Blaine, come help pick a color," Kurt called over his shoulder.

"She likes purple ones," Blaine called back.

The woman smiled and opened the case to pull a bouquet out, "Would these do?"

"They're perfect," Kurt nodded, "We'll take them."

"Are these for a lucky girl?" She looked toward Blaine as they made their way back toward the cash register.

"His grandmother," Kurt chuckled.

"Well she's a lucky woman to have such a considerate grandson," She beamed toward where Blaine was sticking his head into a cooler.

He pulled a bouquet of lilies and peonies before joining them at the cash register and handing Kurt the credit card, "These are separate purchases—could you put the hydrangeas on the card?"

Kurt frowned at the second bouquet in Blaine's hand, "What're those for?"

"They're for this guy I know," Blaine grinned; shrugged.

"Yeah?" Kurt nudged him with his shoulder.

"Mmhmm," Blaine nodded, "He's real cute and his fashion sense is impeccable."

"Sounds like my kind of man." Kurt pushed the credit card across the counter and smirked at Blaine.

The woman behind the counter looked between them at first with confusion and then sudden intrigue.

Kurt blushed and smiled a little, but Blaine grinned and took a step in even closer to Kurt's side when it was his turn to pay. The woman's cheeks reddened and she fumbled with his cash as she put it in the register. When she held the flowers back out at Blaine, he lifted both hands in the air, "They're for him, not me."

The woman turned awkwardly to Kurt and held out the bouquet.

Kurt elbowed Blaine and took the flowers, smiling gracefully, "Thank you for all your help."

"Have a wonderful day," The woman seemed to gather herself a little, "I hope your grandmother enjoys her flowers."

As they turned to leave, Blaine gave Kurt a devilish grin.

"What—" Kurt let out a yip of surprise when Blaine grabbed his ass as they made for the door.

The woman at the counter let out an audible gasp.

Blaine burst into laughter as he scrambled out the door and away from Kurt who was wielding his bouquet like a club.

"You are a terrible human being, Blaine Anderson, if that woman has a stroke or something, it's on you." Kurt caught Blaine's back with the flowers once before he could make it around the side of the car to safety.

"First off, don't take out your feelings on the flowers, they didn't do anything wrong," Blaine smiled at him from over the hood of the car, "And secondly, she was like prehistoric; the shock will just liven her up a bit."

Kurt unlocked the car and dumped both bouquets on Blaine's lap unceremoniously as he climbed in, "You are awful."

"I have a brain tumor; I get irrational sometimes," Blaine shrugged, still smiling to himself.

"What was your excuse pre-tumor?" Kurt eyed him dryly when they stopped at a red light.

"Maybe its just been growing in there for awhile," Blaine tilted his head, "The Gap Attack should have been our first tip off."

"Don't talk like that," Kurt frowned.

"I'm only teasing," Blaine rolled his eyes, "Lighten up."

"It's not funny," Kurt gave Blaine one last meaningful look before turning his attention back to driving, "I don't like to think about that."

"The Gap Attack? Me neither."

"Blaine."

Blaine's smile finally slipped, "All right, I get it, and I'm sorry, all right?"

Kurt was quiet for a long time, but then a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he pulled into the driveway, "Her reaction was priceless wasn't it?"

Blaine broke into a grin, "Did you see her face? She looked like she might faint."

"Poor thing was mortified," Kurt took his flowers from Blaine's lap as he climbed out of the car.

"You think?" Blaine mused, coming around the side of the car, "I think maybe she was a little jealous—taken aback that she didn't stand a chance of getting her old lady hands all over my man."

"That's disgusting, Blaine," Kurt shuddered, "She was like a thousand, she did not want to have anything to do with my butt or anything else."

"Anybody with working eyes would want to grab that ass." Blaine insisted, following Kurt to the front door.

"Well in that case, everyone else is doing an excellent job of refraining." Kurt gave Blaine a pointed look as he climbed the steps to the front porch.

Blaine stopped and clasped a hand over his heart, "What are you saying?"

Kurt tried the handle only to find it locked. He rang the bell before turning to face Blaine; one hand on his hip, "I'm saying you have zero ability to keep your hands to yourself."

Blaine was suddenly right in front of him. He dropped his flowers, grabbed Kurt's ass, and pushed their hips flush with one another causing Kurt to let out a little gasp. He licked his lips and smirked, "You're right, I'm terrible."

It had been a long time since Blaine had kissed him like this, Kurt realized, as he tasted the sweet flavor of Blaine's lips against his. The drugs didn't just make him sick, they made him… disinterested. His once constant glances towards Kurt's mouth when he spoke were few and far between, and while he happily curled into his side to sleep and held his hand on walks, kisses were just sweet, quick things.

Kurt savored it; the taste, the feel… he dropped the bouquet and slipped his hands around Blaine's neck. He could have kissed Blaine like that forever if it weren't for the sudden sharp intake of breath behind him.

Blaine's hands dropped to his sides and Kurt whirled around to stare at the open front door with wide eyes. A man stood there—his face a copy of John Anderson's save for a little less aged; the hair a little straighter and lacking the flecks of silver; the eyes brighter. Kurt needed no introduction to recognize him as John's brother. He looked in alarm at Kurt and then turned his attention slowly to Blaine.

"Well, Blaine," His uncle looked him over, "I take it you still like boys."