'I wish I had a river so long, I would teach my feet to fly.'

For the next couple of days Kurt saw nothing of Blaine or his friends. He passed their boat morning and night in the hope that he might run into them, however they were absent with each journey to and from the bakery. He still heard their faint music every night though, and assumed that they'd either found work or were spending their days searching for it. The thought that they may have gained a reason to remain in Ainslie gladdened him, though the notion was laced with a slight disappointment that he may not get to spend as much time with them (with Blaine) as he'd anticipated.

Blaine had managed, intentionally or otherwise, to firmly wedge himself in Kurt's subconscious. He couldn't help thinking about him. About the way he had casually chatted with Kurt. The grip of his hand. The timbre of his frequent, easy laughter. His mind somehow focussed on intricacies he'd not realised he'd been carefully studying. The way his hair curled at the base of his neck, straining at the frayed, bleached straw of his hat, and the thick veins in his arms that were so prominent as his busy fingers fashioned his merchandise.

There was something about Blaine that lingered in his marrow. Something about him that put Kurt at ease, despite his relative unfamiliarity. He was surprised that he wasn't the least bit wary of the man, yet when he tried he couldn't think of a single sensible reason why he should be. He was simply another stranger in a broader world full of strangers. A world far removed from Ainslie. A world Kurt had intentionally left behind.

It wasn't until Sunday, Kurt's day off, that he contemplated making his way down the river with the specific intention of locating the travellers. He figured if they weren't there when he arrived, he could at least sit and wait for their return. To some it may have seemed a dismal way to spend precious free time, but Kurt had nothing better to do. Nowhere better to be.

Nowhere he'd rather be.

He was still tentatively tossing the idea back and forth by late afternoon, when there was a sharp rhythmic knock on his front door. The only regular visitors to his cottage were Rachel and Finn, and he opened the door idly, not expecting to reveal the tall blonde and the striking brunette from the boat.

He gave them a puzzled smile, "Hi."

"We've been sent to fetch you." The brunette chirped.

"What?" Kurt's eyebrows rose.

She tilted her head, "We're celebrating, and Blaine wants you to join us."

"Um, okay." He laughed, "I'm Kurt, by the way."

"We know." The blonde replied.

"I'm Tina." The Brunette curtsied.

"So, you must be Brittany." Kurt pointed to the blonde.

Brittany's face grew blank, and she leant close to Tina, eyeing Kurt suspiciously, "How does he know that? Is he psychic?" she whispered.

Tina grinned indulgently, "No, honey." She addressed Kurt, "You aren't psychic, are you?"

Kurt stuttered, "No, not at all! Not psychic. Blaine told me your name the other day."

"Oh." Brittany sighed, visibly relaxing. She wore a cropped white top and loose green linen trousers that tied at the side, low on her hips, revealing an expanse of flat, tanned stomach. Her feet were bare, and her hair was tied high on her head, a single dreadlock nestled conspicuously in her wild ponytail.

"Anyway." Tina turned back to Kurt, "We've been instructed not to take no for an answer. We'll carry you if we have to."

"I'm stronger than I look." Brittany stated proudly.

Kurt's gaze slid to her toned biceps, "I believe you." He gasped, a little flustered, "And that really won't be necessary. Just let me grab my keys."

He turned and re-entered the cottage, scooping up a jacket and pausing to self-consciously adjust his hair in the small mirror on his living room wall. Once he was satisfactorily groomed he stepped back outside, locking his door and turning as the girls flanked him and simultaneously linked their arms with his, dragging him through the gate and down the path towards the jetty.

He adjusted his pace to their rapid clip, and asked, "So, what are we celebrating?"

"We celebrate every night." Brittany stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

"But this is a special celebration." Tina added, "We all got jobs."

"We're shovelling shit at a dairy farm!" Brittany sang cheerfully.

Kurt wrinkled his nose, "Charming."

"Yeah, not exactly." Tina laughed, "But it pays, and they'll keep us on for at least two weeks. It's not just shit either. We're going to help with the milking and feeding."

"I met one of the cows today!" Brittany said wistfully, "It was called Dandy, but I renamed it Blaine. It had the same eyes as him…"

"Britt, I think Dandy was a girl." Tina said gently.

"Does that matter?" She asked, perplexed.

"Of course not, darling." Tina winked at Kurt as he attempted to muffled his laughter.

They soon rounded a bend in the path, bringing into view the boat, Blaine (without his fedora for once), and the man with the Mohawk. Blaine was kneeling on the ground near a circle of banked up river stones, just off the path and nearer to the trees that lined the river. Within the circle was a neat pile of drift wood, and as Kurt watched, Blaine struck a match and held it to the edge of a cluster of balled up newspaper that nestled in the heart of the makeshift fire pit. A seam of red glowed along the edge of the sheet, then caught, flaming up and engulfing first the newspaper, then the smaller kindling, smoking and flickering erratically. Blaine stood, supervising the fire as he wiped his hands on his thighs, an orange glow playing on his face in the falling dark, and casting rich shadows that alternately accentuated and softened his features.

Had Brittany not mentioned it, Kurt never would have compared Blaine's eyes to that of a dairy cow of all things, but dilated in the dusk, wide and watery from smoke, he supposed there was some similarity. If nothing else, he had the docile stare and excessive eyelashes down pat. He'd probably have said a deer though, and the colour of a million inanimate brown things. Coffee, chocolate, roast hazelnuts, earth and stout. A dozen shades, all flecked and irregular, and when viewed as a whole, frankly incomparable.

Once within a few strides of the jetty Blaine trained those eyes on the trio approaching, grinning triumphantly.

"You didn't have to carry him then?"

Kurt made an indignant sound through his nose, "You mean you actually told them to? I thought they were kidding!"

"Nope." Blaine grinned wickedly, "I really wanted you to come."

Kurt swallowed dryly, "Why wouldn't I come?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, "I guess I just didn't want to run the risk of you getting away with turning us down."

"And when he says 'us,' he obviously means him." The still unknown man with the Mohawk smirked.

Kurt felt his cheeks grow warm, and was glad to have something other than Blaine to turn his focus to. He wildly wondered if he could explain away the flush as being a result of the rising radiant heat of the fire.

"I'm Puck." The man saluted, hand to forehead, and Kurt waved back, "You drink beer, man?"

"Not really…" Kurt said.

"Good a time to start as any." Puck rummaged in a paper bag at his feet, throwing a can to Kurt, which he narrowly caught, then one to Blaine and each of the girls.

Kurt looked down at the can, cold and sweating in his hand, then cracked it open with a hiss. He took a tentatively sip and winced at the slightly bitter, foreign taste of it. It wasn't his idea of ambrosia, but he couldn't deny that the icy liquid and vigorous bubbles felt somehow perfectly refreshing juxtaposed with warm weather and joyful company.

Blaine quietly sidled up next to him as he took a second investigative sip, "You don't have to drink that. I know Puck would gladly finish it for you."

"No, it's fine." Kurt smiled at him, "It's… nice."

"Really?" Blaine asked sceptically.

"Well, no. It's really weird. But it's good weird."

"Okay." Blaine chuckled, "Speaking of good, we ate your bread."

"And your verdict is?" Kurt asked seriously.

"My verdict is that you really need to teach me how to make bread."

"I'm guessing that means you liked it?"

"It was fucking amazing." Blaine whispered.

Kurt beamed, "None of my customers have ever put it quite like that before."

"Then they're too polite for their own good."

Kurt looked down at his hands coyly, "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Brittany and Tina told me you're employed now too." He said, steering the conversation in a direction that made his heart flutter a little less.

"Mm, you're stuck with us for now." He elbowed Kurt lightly, "There isn't enough work for all four of us to be there every day, but I'm still grateful."

Me too, Kurt thought.

Behind them, sitting on one of the posts on the jetty Puck had picked up his guitar and started strumming idly.

"Do you all play instruments?" Kurt asked.

"Britt doesn't. Tina plays violin, and I can fumble my way through a few chords on guitar. And the drums too, but that's nothing special."

"I thought I heard a violin the other night."

"You've been listening?" Blaine said brightly.

"Not intentionally. I can always catch a bit from my yard though."

"Have we been disturbing you?" Blaine asked, concerned.

"God, no!"

"You'd be surprised. Not every town takes so kindly to late night folk music."

"I love it." Kurt insisted.

"Really?" He smirked, then raised his voice a little, "Hey, Tina!"

"Yeah?" She turned from the fire where she stood with Brittany.

"Can you guys play something?"

"Sure." She gave a stunning grin, "Any requests?"

"Make it slow."

"As you wish."

She skipped to the boat, returning with a battered violin, starting up a sweet, lazy minor tune. Puck joined a moment later with his guitar in what sounded to Kurt a little like a lethargic tango. They were obviously extremely used to playing together, neither of them hesitating as the melody wove along, harmonising accordingly.

Kurt swallowed another mouthful of his beer, his chest constricting at the beautiful music. It evoked in him a sort of conflicting feeling of longing and peace that he couldn't begin to explain.

By the fire Brittany had begun dancing, her arms above her head and her eyes slipping closed. Her toes ground into the dirt and mud, leaving swirls and furrows, exotic patterns and tracks, impossible to replicate. She smiled serenely as she twirled.

Kurt was abruptly stirred from the sight of her by Blaine removing his beer from his hand and placing it on the ground.

"Come on." He took Kurt's right hand, "We can't let her dance alone."

"We can't?" Kurt said, disconcerted.

"Definitely not. Here." He placed one of Kurt's hands on his waist, before putting his own on Kurt's, resting it gently and chastely before clasping his other hand, "Okay?" He asked.

"I guess." Kurt gasped.

"Relax." Blaine started to sway and turn them slowly.

"I am relaxed!" Blaine's body was at least thirty centimetres from his, but for Kurt that was still decidedly intimate.

"When was the last time you danced with someone?" Blaine asked, breath just noticeably warm on Kurt's face.

"I can't remember."

"Mm?" Blaine squeezed his hand and cocked his head a little, imploringly.

"Um…" He closed his eyes for a second, "My senior prom, I guess."

"Should I be jealous?"

"No." Kurt breathed, "It was years ago, and it was with my friend Mercedes. I love her, but she's really not my type."

"What is your type?" Blaine coaxed.

"I have absolutely no idea how to answer that."

"Try."

"Well it helps if they're male."

"Obviously." Blaine snorted.

"Blaine, I don't have a type."

"Well, what are your views on dark hair?" He asked lightly.

"Probably the same as my views on light hair."

"What about shorter men?"

Kurt laughed, "You're shameless."

"I'm persistent." Blaine moved closer, slightly bridging the space between them.

"Yeah, that too."

"Don't you want to know my type?"

"Would it be presumptuous to say I have a sneaking suspicion I already do?" Kurt breathed.

"Am I that obvious?"

Kurt scoffed, "Are you kidding?"

"Yeah." Blaine smiled broadly.

"Oh my god." Kurt ducked his head.

"What?" Blaine asked, bending at the knee and trying to catch his gaze again.

"Are you always this flirty?" Kurt looked up.

"I can't say it's that often I have reason to be."

Kurt inhaled deeply, then quickly said, "You don't need to be."

"Sorry?" Blaine's face fell.

"No, no!" Kurt choked, "Blaine… you don't have to try so hard. Stop trying to charm me. Trust me, I'm charmed."

Blaine, blank faced, blinked a couple of times, inconveniently choosing that moment to look a great deal like Brittany's dairy cow must have.

"You… you like me?" He asked hopefully

"I like you." This time it was Kurt that moved closer, barely two inches between their bodies. Kurt could smell cloves or incense. Something vaguely herbal in Blaine's clothes and on his skin. There were freckles on the bridge of his nose, barely visible in the orange light of the fire. His hand were so warm. Skin so hot.

"I like you too." Blaine said quietly, the most tentative he'd ever been in Kurt's presence.

Kurt chuckled, "Really?" He asked sarcastically.

"Okay, now I'm embarrassed." Blaine scrunched up his nose and shut his eyes.

"For the record, embarrassed Blaine is just as charming as charming Blaine."

"You could have just told me you... like me." Blaine said, "Saved us both the trouble."

"What, because you were being so forthright?"

"I was being highly suggestive, at least." Blaine laughed, moving his hand a little closer to the small of Kurt's back, splaying his fingers in the fabric of his jacket.

"That's an understatement." Kurt leant into his touch, pleasantly overwhelmed, "And I'm not complaining, but I'm also not in the habit of confessing my feelings to… well, anybody."

"I'm honoured." Blaine whispered, staring directly into Kurt's eyes, mere centimetres between them.

"Don't mention it." Kurt breathed, mouth dry.

"I probably will." Blaine licked his lips.

Some way into their conversation the two of them had ceased dancing, failing to notice that at some point the music had also stopped. They were both rudely shaken by Tina's shout.

"Boys! Care for a little entertainment?"

They started, and jumped apart as Tina appeared next to them.

Blaine scowled, "We're doing alright by ourselves, thanks!"

"Sorry." Tina said slyly, not sounding sorry at all, "I think Kurt will want to see this though."

"See what?" He asked hazily, still foggy from his moment of being so close to Blaine.

"Watch." Tina pointed to the fire.

Brittany had a long pole, slightly thicker at either end than it was at its middle. It looked like they were wrapped in rags, dark with some kind of oil or resin.

"What is that?" Kurt asked.

Tina held his hand, pulling gently, "You might want to stand back, chérie."

They retreated to the jetty where Puck still sat, Blaine picking up their drinks and returning Kurt's to him with a bashful smile which Kurt mirrored, turning back to Brittany.

As he watched, she dipped the ends of the pole into the fire one at a time until they caught, then proceeded to twirl the flaming stick. One handed, two handed, above her head. There was a sheen of sweat on her face and stomach and a look of divine concentration on her face, though she somehow made the act seem effortless, not making a single error in her movements. The points of fire left orange and yellow swirls in their wake, much like her toes in the soil. It was as if Kurt's vision was lagging behind her swift, measured movements, unable to keep up as the burning ends sliced the air.

"Impressive, hey?" Puck asked.

"It's incredible." Kurt gaped.

Puck nodded, "I got her to try to teach me once, and I lost half an eyebrow before I gave up. She's one of a kind."

Brittany continued for five minutes or so, until the ends of the pole had dimmed to weak embers. With regret, spots glowing in his eyes, Kurt turned to Blaine.

"I should probably go. I have to work in the morning."

"Me too." Blaine said, his voice a mix of excitement and disappointment.

"When will I see you?" Kurt asked.

"Are you free at all tomorrow?"

"I finish at three."

"You'll see me at three."

Kurt bit his lip to keep from smiling too much, "Okay." He waved to the others, "Bye guys. Thank you for the show."

"You're welcome any time." Tina said warmly.

"Goodnight." Kurt said to Blaine.

"Night. See you tomorrow."

They both hovered for a moment, unsure of how to part, eventually simply exchanging shy smiles.

Kurt walked home slowly through the warm night, giddy and tipsy and thoroughly overwhelmed by how effortlessly the night had passed. He was surprised that he'd had the nerve to tell Blaine how he felt, though once he was aware the sentiment was reciprocated, it seemed foolish not to.

He arrived at his cottage and immediately went to bed, his hair smelling weakly of wood smoke. He was asleep within five minutes, eager to pass the hours until the next day, and his next meeting with Blaine.