"It don't snow here, it stays pretty green..."

On Monday Kurt had hurried home from work, evading Rachel's queries as to why he was in such a hurry, and swiftly changed into a pair of not-too-formal black skinny jeans, and a grey button down that managed to look smart without giving the illusion that Kurt had tried too hard. In moving to Ainslie he'd definitely lost a whole lot of opportunities to showcase the more extravagant items in his wardrobe, but he was fairly confident in the knowledge that he could make just about anything look good, regardless of how plain.

Shortly after he'd got his hair in order, and double checked for any stray flour, there was a knock on his door. He took a deep breath, centred himself, and swung it open, revealing Blaine; stubble, white tank top and jeans, torn at the knees and worn threadbare at the thighs. Kurt was still a little taken aback by just how stunning Blaine could look with so little apparent effort. It appeared he was even better at it than Kurt was.

"Hi." He chirped.

Blaine had been looking back down Kurt's garden path, and he whipped his head around at the greeting, loudly blurting, "My last name's Anderson. I'm Blaine Anderson."

Kurt blinked, "That's nice..." He said slowly, "I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure we already did introductions."

"Not our full names." Blaine said sheepishly, an obvious blush seeping in high on his cheekbones.

"Oh, I guess not." Kurt said suspiciously.

"Well? What's yours?"

"Um… it's Hummel."

"Kurt Hummel?"

"That's it."

"Okay. Great." Blaine smiled.

Kurt cleared his throat delicately, "Not that it's not nice to know your full name, but… I mean, not even a hello?"

"Hello." Blaine said quickly, continuing to explain at a break neck pace, "So, um… I wanted to ask you on a date and I was lying awake last night thinking about it, and I couldn't stop thinking that it'd be weird to do it without knowing each other's names. So, yeah. Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel." He paused, "Also, I ramble when I'm nervous."

Kurt stared at him, simultaneously dazed by his unexpected outburst, and floored by the almost harmless, yet ridiculously provocative idea of Blaine thinking of him whilst in bed.

Blaine shifted his weight from foot to foot as Kurt gaped, "I'm not getting any less nervous, here…"

Kurt mercifully found his voice again, croaking, "Are you going to ask me out, then?"

"Oh! Shit! Yes!" Blaine's hands flew up, "Uh, are you free at all this week?"

"I have a half day on Wednesday. I'm free from noon."

"Will you go out with me on Wednesday?"

"God, I feel like I'm in high school again." Kurt murmured.

Blaine smirked, "You had a lot of boys chasing you in high school?"

"Sorry, correction." Kurt snorted, "I feel like I'm in a movie set in high school, that's nothing like my own experience."

Blaine laughed, then narrowed his eyes, "You haven't answered me yet."

"What did you have in mind for our date?" Kurt asked slowly.

"Will your answer depend on my answer?"

"Uh… no, I'm just curious. There aren't exactly a whole lot of settings for hot dates in Ainslie."

"You're expecting a hot date?" Blaine smirked, "I think I can manage that."

"It's a figure of speech." Kurt stated, "And you're flirting again."

"Yeah, I can't help it." Blaine dipped his head and rubbed the back of his neck, "And I have a few ideas for what we can do, but they're all surprises, so I guess you'll just have to trust me or turn me down."

"Alright, I trust you. I think."

"So, that's a yes?"

"That's a yes."

Blaine gave a huge closed mouthed grin that looked painfully supressed, and let out a little squeak of triumph. He wrung his hands in front of him, and Kurt realised that there was something about Blaine's agile hands that gave the illusion that they were always in view. Catching attention and drawing focus even when they weren't strictly in use.

Kurt dragged his eyes away from them and laughed at Blaine's abridged celebration, "That felt a lot more complicated than it needed to be."

"Hey, I'm just the guy asking you on a date." Blaine put his hands up, "You're the one who started interrogating me."

"Hm, I guess it's just my dormant suspicion of dashing young gypsies unexpectedly rearing its head." Kurt sighed.

"Dashing?" Blaine asked, again looking like he was desperately holding back a blinding grin.

"Do you want to come in?" Kurt said quickly.

"I'd love to."

"Wait, wait." Kurt looked down, only just noting Blaine's dusty, bare feet, "Do any of you guys ever wear shoes."

"Sometimes." Blaine glanced down quickly, then back up at Kurt, "Besides, I thought it was polite to remove your shoes before entering someone's house."

"Generally not before you leave your own though."

"Technically it's a boat…"

"Get in." Kurt grabbed Blaine by the bicep and pulled him through the door, closing it behind them.

"I'll mop up any dirt, I promise."

"That's so not necessary."

Kurt turned to see Blaine standing in the middle of the main room of his cottage, that made up the kitchen and living area. Couch, tiny hardwood dining table and stove all within a few steps of each other. Blaine was looking around slowly, a small smile on his lips as he took in the cosy furnishings and small vase of pale pink roses that Kurt, though he wouldn't admit it, had picked from his garden and placed on the table in anticipation of Blaine's arrival.

"This is… well, it's adorable." Blaine said, "Seriously, that's the only word for it."

"I always go with 'quaint.'" Kurt offered, standing next to Blaine.

"That works too."

"It's kind of small, but I guess it's just me here. I don't really need the space."

"Hey, you've seen where I live. This is a palace."

"I thought maybe the boat was like, smaller from the outside or something." Kurt ventured.

"No." Blaine deadpanned, "It's a fucking broom closet. We basically sleep on top of each other."

"Not literally, I hope."

"Ha, no. We have little bunks. One of the benefits of being short." He paused, "And one of the few of being perpetually single. I've had the misfortune of walking in on Puck a few times when he's brought girls back to the boat, and as far as I could tell, before I ran out and rinsed my eyes with bleach, you need to be a circus contortionist just to fool around."

Kurt covered his face with his hands, "Oh my god, you poor thing."

"Yeah, I'm pretty scarred." Blaine chuckled, "And his is a top bunk."

"Jesus." Kurt giggled, still rolling around Blaine's mention of always being single. How could someone who came across as such an insatiable cad be constantly single? "You guys must be close friends."

"Yeah. I sometimes think a little too close. I've sort of forgotten what privacy feels like. You live in a tiny town though. It's kind of a different scale, but it must be similar?" He asked.

"No, not really." Kurt said softly, "I mean… I know everyone, and everyone knows me, but not intimately. Just a couple of close friends."

"That must get hard." Blaine said gently.

"Yes. No. I dunno." Kurt laughed shortly, shrugging one shoulder, "I'm used to it." He took a breath and gestured to the corner of the room that made up the kitchen, "Do you want something to drink? Tea?"

"That'd be nice." Blaine said.

Kurt moved to the sink, filling his electric kettle as Blaine floated around, brushing his fingers (those unavoidable hands) over the table top as he walked towards the window.

"What's that?" He asked.

Kurt turned from where he was fiddling with the tea pot to see what Blaine was pointing at. Under the window, basking in the sun like an opportunistic cat, was a large mixing bowl draped in a tea towel.

"Just some bread dough." Kurt explained.

"You don't get enough baking done at work?" Blaine laughed.

"It saves me money." Kurt reasoned.

Blaine peeled back the towel a little and peered in the bowl, "What's it doing?"

His choice of words made Kurt giggle, "It's rising. The heat from the sun makes the yeast work faster."

"Huh." Blaine pulled the towel off entirely, "Is it ready to… um, bake? Or whatever it is you do next?"

"Mm, should be." Kurt took the now boiling water and poured it over the tea bags, "I was going to leave it until you left, though."

"Can we do it now? I mean, can you show me? You did say you were going to teach me how to make bread."

"I'm pretty sure you said I was going to teach you how to make bread…" Kurt clarified.

"Minor details." Blaine smirked.

Kurt moved over to the bowl, "We can if you want. It's not very exciting."

"Not for you, maybe."

"Not for anyone."

"Hey, you're kind of harshing my curiosity here!" Blaine cried.

Kurt found that hard to believe. Childlike curiosity he thought. Open, sweet and unadulterated. He couldn't say no to that.

"Okay." He surrendered, "Bring the bowl over here. We have to knead it."

He grabbed a wet cloth and gave the table top a cursory wipe, fetching a bag of flour from the bench and scattering it thinly on the table, like ceremonial dirt on top of a coffin.

"Wash your hands." He instructed, watching as Blaine went to the sink and produced a fine lather of soap, rinsing and drying them on the thighs of his jeans. Kurt didn't comment on the idle action, already feeling more like an overbearing mother than he was generally used to. He simply smiled to himself, and lifted the dough onto the table as Blaine joined him, standing just to his left.

"What now?" Blaine bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Um… so, it's all about the feel of it." Kurt began, "Just touch it."

"Get right in there?" Blaine held his fingers out like claws, his eyes bright.

"Yep, get right in there."

"I knew this would be fun." Blaine squeaked, reaching forward, reverently.

Precious, Kurt thought, tucking the word under his tongue to keep from uttering it over and over again.

Blaine dug his fingers tentatively into the beige mound, gasping a little as they sank in.

"It's so soft!"

"It's nice, isn't it?" Kurt smiled, "I couldn't tell you how many loaves of bread I've baked in my life, and it's still my favourite feeling."

"So… what do I do now?" Blaine stared up at Kurt, hands comically frozen in the mixture.

"Okay, you want to sort of fold it over and push it down. You have to keep some of the air in it."

"What are the chances that's a whole lot harder than it sounds?" Blaine murmured to himself, sticking his tongue out a little as he began nudging the dough.

Kurt watched Blaine work for a minute, his movements timid and hesitant. After a short while Kurt bit back a trill of laughter and put his hand on Blaine's forearm to stop him.

"Here, let me help." He said without thinking.

"I'm fucking it up, aren't I?" Blaine moaned, "I'm fucking up your bread."

At that Kurt did laugh out loud, "No, it's fine. Just…"

Kurt reached out and put his right hand over Blaine's own, "Do you mind?" He asked.

Blaine shook his head, just barely moving it from side to side, training his dark sidelong gaze on Kurt and breathing, "No."

Kurt's movement had brought their faces within less than a foot of each other, Kurt's arm flush against the length of Blaine's, his shoulder nestled in the hollow of Kurt's underarm as he awkwardly reached over him. Kurt kept his body side on to Blaine's, no other part of their torsos touching. It would have been so easy to lean into Blaine's back, brace himself against him, but he consciously kept that sliver of air between them.

Kurt, with more conviction, grasped Blaine's hand, every bend of his fingers controlling Blaine's, like a marionette.

"Like this…" He said, his voice coming out in a near whisper.

He began to move, the heel of his hand baring down on the back of the darker boy's own, firm yet gentle. Impeccably practiced.

It seemed Blaine was almost holding his breath, air entering and leaving his lungs in the shallow puffs of the incredibly cautious. A birdwatcher doing their best not to frighten the wildlife, or a child creeping past their parent's room on tip toe to sneak a midnight snack. Kurt himself was having a fair amount of trouble controlling his own breathing, however unlike Blaine, their close proximity was making his inhalations and exhalations loud and erratic. Hissing past his teeth as he attempted to lower his volume.

"Do you – " Kurt croaked, clearing his throat, "– do you think you have the hang of it now?"

Blaine shook his head, "No." He said hoarsely.

Without taking his eyes off Kurt's, he reached around with his spare hand until he found Kurt's sleeve, grasping his wrist and pulling it around until he was bracketed by Kurt's arms, Kurt finding his chest pressed to Blaine's back as Blaine's hair tickled his left cheek.

"I definitely need more help." Blaine breathed.

Kurt automatically covered Blaine's left hand in the same manner as his right.

"Are you really that hopeless?" He asked, trying to focus on Blaine's face, even though their eyes were so close he was simply a blur.

"I'm so hopeless."

Kurt laughed shallowly, now working both of Blaine's hands, tilting into his back with every lunge forward, "You always seem to know what to do with your hands." He pointed out absent-mindedly, "The bracelets and… and the drums."

"That's all just practice." Blaine said quietly, "Either that or, um… enthusiasm."

"Oh…"

Small pieces of dough were sticking to their fingers as they worked, further fusing their grip. Kurt marvelled at the sensation of flour on Blaine's skin. The warmth of him contrasting with the lifeless cool of the bread. He may have been intimately familiar with baking, but this was something entirely new, and entirely intimate in a wholly different way. Uncommon and exhilarating. He suddenly became extremely aware of the bold heat in his chest moving to his stomach. Of the way they fit together, as if tailored that way. As if they were halves of a pair. Of the way his groin was pressed firmly into Blaine's ass.

Of his arousal.

He pulled away with a sharp intake of breath, absently wiping his dirty hands on his stomach.

"Our tea!" He said, a little too loudly, "Um, I think it's brewed."

Blaine turned to face Kurt, "Tea…" He said vaguely, as if he'd forgotten such a beverage even existed.

Kurt took one look at Blaine's dark, dark eyes, bleary and unfocused, and twirled quickly, removing the tea bags from the pot before closing his eyes and tilting his head up, drawing a calming breath into his body and bracing his hands on the bench.

He was pretty sure Blaine was aware of his attraction to him (how could he not be?) however he'd just come dangerously close to getting to feel just how attracted Kurt really was.

A short while later the bread was in the oven, and Kurt and Blaine were sitting on the bench in Kurt's back garden, nursing mugs of tea. They were oriented so that they were facing one another, Kurt's legs crossed at the knee, and Blaine perched with one leg tucked up and under himself, the dark sole of his foot just poking out.

Kurt sighed contentedly, "It's not often I have someone sitting out here with me."

"I still find that hard to believe." Blaine murmured into his mug, blowing steam across the surface in ghostly billows.

"Believe it or not, it's true."

"Do you like it?" Blaine asked, "Having someone… having me here?"

"I do." Kurt smiled, his eyes crinkling and sparkling.

Blaine smiled back, and after a sip asked, "What are you doing in a place like this?"

Kurt knitted his eyebrows, "What do you mean?"

"Are you from here?"

"No."

"Well, it's just such a small town." Blaine shrugged, "It's not often I meet anyone your age around these parts who's here by choice. It's usually just kids who were born, grew up and haven't moved on."

"You can't be any older than I am." Kurt said.

"Probably not, but I know my reasons." He said cryptically, looking into his drink.

Kurt stared at him for a second, but when he didn't elaborate, said, "I suppose I just wanted to try something new… a fresh start."

"Were you running away?" Blaine asked.

"Why do you say that?"

"No reason." He said quickly, "Just… trying to understand."

"I…" Kurt began, then bit his lip, taking a drink to give himself a moment to think.

"Is it personal?" Blaine asked, backpedalling, "If you don't want to talk about it, just tell me to shut up. Trust me, I get it."

"No!" Kurt waved a hand, "I mean, yes it is personal, but it's fine. It's kind of silly I suppose. A little childish…"

"Mm?" Blaine prompted gently, thick eyelashes brushing his cheeks quickly.

Kurt sighed inwardly at the sight. There it was again. That mantra. Precious, precious, precious.

The scene convinced him to continue, "Well, I grew up in Ohio, and my mum died when I was nine. It was just my dad and I after that, and it… it ached that she was gone, but we got by. Anyway, I earned a scholarship to a college in New York, and just finished my senior year when my dad got sick. Prostate Cancer." He took a deep breath, "He was such a stubborn man." He said with a sad smile, "He hardly ever went for regular check-ups. I guess he thought he was invincible. By the time they found it, it had spread through his body and… well, it's not like he didn't try to fight. Chemo and every different treatment and cocktail under the sun. I had to reject my scholarship and stay in Ohio to look after him."

"Kurt…" Blaine said, softly. He put a hand over Kurt's knee, and while he'd normally have found such sympathy overbearing, he simply smiled and continued.

"It was kind of awful giving it up, but it wasn't even a question. I didn't even think about it. My dad was all I had, and he needed me. A scholarship was nothing compared to that. He lasted almost a year. He was so sick from the treatment, and… we both pretended there was a chance he'd get better, but I think we knew that he wasn't going to beat it. The doctors didn't give us any illusions, and he just sort of… faded away."

Blaine squeezed his knee gently, and Kurt put one of his hands over Blaine's, hot from the mug and in an entirely different spirit to the frantic way their hands had locked in the kitchen.

"Once he was gone, there was nothing left for me in Ohio. Even if there was, I didn't want to stay. I took care of dad's affairs, sold our house and most of our belongings, and came out here. I don't even know why I chose Ainslie. For a while I was just driving around, living out of my car in motels, and eventually I stopped here, rented the cottage, sold my car and met Rachel and Finn. She took me under her wing and Finn taught me how to bake, and… here I am. I've been here for three years."

"Did it help?" Blaine breathed.

"Leaving? Yeah, it kind of did. I didn't move here to forget about dad or Ohio. God, I'd never want to do that." He sighed, "But… it's so clichéd, but I suppose I had some wounds to heal, and this place has nursed me a little. It's so quiet and so detached. I could kind of just take stock and figure things out without having to deal with the baggage of a college education that was over before it began, or any of those dreams that kind of became horribly insignificant while dad was sick."

"Did you find new dreams?" Blaine asked, Kurt's thumb absent-mindedly stroking his wrist where it rested.

"More like stumbled upon." Kurt laughed, "I don't know what I was looking for when I left Ohio, but this is what I discovered and this is… this is perfect. This is what I wanted. Uncomplicated and uncluttered."

"I can empathise with that." Blaine nodded, "It's not a little too uncluttered, though? A little too…"

Empty Kurt thought, instead saying, "Lonely? Like I said, yeah. I'm used to it."

"I can't imagine that goes all the way to making it bearable." Blaine said slowly.

Then how about you stay? Kurt thought. Stay, stay, stay with me.

"I get by." He croaked, "What about you, then?"

"Me?" Blaine asked, "Nothing to tell, really."

"Seriously?" Kurt laughed, "You travel around on a boat, selling jewellery and busking, and there's nothing to tell?

Blaine blinked once, then cleared his throat, draining what was left in his mug, and pulling his hand from Kurt's knee, "No. Nothing of interest, just…" He looked around the garden, then back to Kurt, "Do you have the time?"

Surprised, Kurt looked down at his watch, "It's almost five…"

Blaine stood, speaking rapidly, "Oh… um, I'm supposed to cook tonight. You have no idea what Tina gets like when we don't all pull our weight. She'll hunt me down and crucify me if I don't get back soon."

"Oh." Kurt stood too, confused, "I suppose you should go, then. I don't want that."

"Trust me, neither do I." Blaine said, pushing his empty mug into Kurt's hands, "So, we're still on for our date on Wednesday?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Great. Just come by the boat once you've done whatever you have to after work… changed or whatever. Don't worry about dressing up too much either."

"I thought it was supposed to be a hot date?" Kurt said.

Blaine briefly put his hand on his shoulder, and distractedly said, "Like you have to dress up to look hot." He started walking down the path, Kurt hurrying behind him, whirling from the throw away compliment. Blaine turned momentarily at the gate, "Thanks for the tea and the lesson. I really enjoyed it."

"Me too."

"Great. Well, see you soon." He waved, and sped down the river path and out of sight.

Kurt stared at the empty scene. They'd gone from talking about the worst period of his life, to Blaine's abrupt departure in the space of about a minute, and Kurt couldn't help but feel a little hurt by it.

Had he said something wrong? Had he accidentally offended Blaine?

Why was he running away?