Chapter 25

Blaine wakes up to sunlight streaming in his bedroom window. Judging by the angle of the light, it's still fairly early, but he stretches and throws back the covers, wanting to brew a pot of coffee before Kurt wakes up.

Kurt.

It takes a second for Blaine to fully register that his gorgeous boyfriend is sleeping beside him, but when it hits him, he can't resist rolling over to take in the view. Kurt is lying on his left side, curled toward Blaine's side of the bed. His thick brown hair is sleep-mussed and falling adorably over his forehead where his head rests on the pillow. His lips are slightly parted, revealing just a hint of his bottom teeth, and Blaine finds himself resisting the urge to kiss Kurt awake. Instead, he admires Kurt's flushed cheeks and the curl of his fingertips around the fabric of the pillowcase. Kurt's eyelashes flutter slightly as he sighs and shifts in his sleep.

"You're beautiful," he whispers.

Blaine smiles fondly down at his boyfriend before moving slowly from the bed to keep from waking Kurt. He makes his way downstairs to the kitchen and sets about making coffee and grabs some granola bars and fruit for breakfast. At the last second, he snags a box of Pop Tarts and places them on a tray with two mugs of coffee and the rest of the food, and he returns to his bedroom.

Kurt is still sound asleep, so Blaine sets the tray on his dresser and grabs one of the mugs of coffee. He sits near Kurt's hip on the bed and leans down to kiss Kurt's temple, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He whispers, "Kurt."

The taller boy mumbles something incoherent and rolls over, pulling his arm across his face to shield it from the bright sunlight now filling the room. He inhales deeply around a yawn. Blaine thinks, not for the first time that morning, that his boyfriend is the most adorable thing he's ever seen. Boyfriend. That has to be the best word in the English language. He'll never get over the thought of Kurt as his boyfriend.

"Good morning, sunshine," Blaine says smiling.

"Do I smell coffee?" Kurt asks without removing his forearm from his face.

"Made it just for you," Blaine replies, nudging Kurt's arm with the mug.

Kurt drags his arm down, letting it flop unceremoniously at his side and squints up at Blaine. A crooked smile plays across his face as his eyes come into focus and he sees bright, amber eyes gazing back at him from beneath a mop of unruly curls. He also notices the steam coming off the mug in Blaine's hands, and right now his need for caffeine is the only thing that's keeping him from kissing this absolutely stunning boy back into the mattress until he begs for mercy. So he sits up and takes the cup from Blaine's hands, pulling it toward his mouth and inhaling deeply before taking a tentative sip.

"Oh my god," he moans over the rim of the mug. "Divine bliss."

Blaine chuckles warmly at Kurt's reaction. "It's just coffee."

"Exactly," Kurt replies. "Coffee: the nectar of the gods and the only thing that could get me out of bed this early on a Sunday morning." He brings the mug back to his lips and stops short. "Well, other than my ridiculously sexy boyfriend hovering over me in his pajamas. That's a pretty good way to wake up too." He punctuates the compliment with a wink and smiles at Blaine before taking another sip.

"Seriously, I hope you made a full pot, because this is good coffee," Kurt comments.

"There's plenty more downstairs," Blaine says through a smile. "I also brought breakfast." He stands up to retrieve the tray from the dresser. "I didn't know what you like, and I'm not much of a cook, so I brought some fruit…cereal bars…"

"Pop Tarts," Kurt says grinning broadly and snatching the box from the tray.

Blaine looks shocked for a split second before he concedes to himself that nothing about Kurt is what he expects, but somehow he's not entirely shocked that Kurt might be a bit of a junk-food junkie just like any other teenage boy. Blaine grabs a strawberry and pops it into his mouth, watching Kurt tear into the foil of a blueberry Pop Tart like a kid on Christmas morning.

"I know these are nothing but sugar and preservatives," Kurt says around a mouthful of cheap pastry, "but there's something about them that reminds me of being a kid, and I can't resist. If I'm not careful, I'll eat the whole box."

"It's alright," Blaine says. "I'm that way about peanut butter cereal. You know the Cap'n Crunch one?"

Kurt nods, still chewing on his Pop Tart.

"It leaves like this gross film on your tongue and usually cuts the roof of your mouth, but it just tastes like, I don't know… happiness?" He shrugs.

Kurt giggles and mutters something sounding quite a bit like "five year old" under his breath. Blaine just smiles at him and takes a sip of his own coffee.

"So, anything in particular you wanted to do today?" he asks.

Kurt freezes with a piece of pastry halfway to his mouth, his blue eyes suddenly lost and sad.

"I suppose I should get some stuff from my house," he says. "If I'm not going to be staying there."

Blaine instinctively reaches out and places his free hand over Kurt's, rubbing softly over crumb-covered knuckles.

"Did you want to talk about it?" he asks.

Kurt is silent for a moment, eyes cast downward at his remaining breakfast in the pool of sheets resting in his lap. When he looks up at Blaine there are tears in his eyes, but he doesn't cry.

"My dad kicked me out," he says.

On the other side of town, Burt wakes earlier than normal, a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach preventing him from sleeping in.

He had finally fallen asleep just before sunrise when his tossing and turning had awakened Carole, and she had rubbed his back and hummed soothing words into his ear until he fell into a fitful sleep.

He glances over to his wife, still sleeping soundly and snoring softly next to him, and smiles. He knows she was probably still worried about him and Kurt long after he fell asleep, so he lets her sleep in and goes downstairs to make some coffee. He grabs his phone from where it's charging on the counter and sees he has a new text.

Kurt

Coming home around noon to get some stuff.

Burt's shoulders sag as he reads the message. He had braced himself for another fight with Kurt, but not this. He hadn't meant it when he told his son to leave, but how can he back down now? Kurt is obviously being stubborn here and hasn't quit his job. How can Burt renege on his outburst now?

Ultimately he decides to not let his pride get the better of him and he sends a reply: I'll be here. We should talk, kid.

Blaine offers to go with Kurt to pick up some clothes and "other essentials" (which turn out to be a frightening amount of skin- and hair-care products) from his house. They take Blaine's car because Kurt says he's still too tired to drive. Blaine's pretty sure that's not the reason, but he doesn't say anything to Kurt.

Having talked at length about what happened between Kurt and his dad back at Blaine's house — Blaine insisting Burt didn't mean what he said; Kurt insisting he had — Kurt is silent for most of the drive, the only sounds in the car the two boys singing along softly to the radio.

When they pull up in the driveway, Kurt sighs heavily.

"I never thought I'd be moving out like this," he says.

"You don't have to move out," Blaine suggests yet again. "Just tell him you quit your job."

"Blaine, it's the principle of the matter. He kicked me out," Kurt insists. "It doesn't matter why."

"Yeah, but…"

"No," Kurt interrupts. "This is what he wanted. I'm not going to apologize. I didn't do anything wrong."

Blaine gives Kurt a resigned smile and kills the engine. "Want me to come in?" he asks, placing his hand over Kurt's.

"Sure. It might make things less awkward if you're there."

Kurt pulls back from Blaine and exits the car. Blaine follows his lead and joins him on the path leading to the front door.

"Okay," he says, still a bit unsure of Kurt's theory that it won't be awkward. "Lead the way, good sir." He makes an exaggerated sweeping motion that hints at a bow. Kurt laughs. He's incredibly fond of Blaine's old-fashioned way of speaking and the added gesture is just the bit of comic relief he needs in that moment.

"From five-year-old to grandpa in 1.8 seconds," Kurt teases as he starts walking toward the door. He takes out his key to let himself in and sucks in a sharp breath.

Kurt hesitates in the doorway for a moment, debating whether he should call out to his dad. Sensing the hesitation, Blaine takes Kurt's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before they step through the door.

"We should just go up to my room and get this over with," Kurt says.

"Okay," Blaine says. "I'm right behind you."

Just as the boys hit the first step, Burt emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Hey there, kiddo," he says. "Blaine."

When Kurt doesn't immediately respond, Blaine says, "Hello, Mr. Hummel."

Burt nods and Kurt just quirks an eyebrow, lifting his chin in a stubborn display of the silent treatment.

"I just…uh…came to help Kurt get some stuff," Blaine says nervously.

Burt's eyes never leave Kurt's face. For his part, Kurt is staring at the wall opposite the stairs somewhere near the ceiling and blinking rapidly to keep the pooling tears in his eyes from falling.

"Well, I'll be down here if you need me," Burt says. The implied "I'm sorry" is obvious even to Blaine, but Kurt just sniffs and turns to head upstairs.

When they reach Kurt's room, Blaine whispers, "I really think you should talk to your dad."

Kurt's head whips around and the fury in his eyes makes Blaine jump. "And you should mind your own business," he snaps. Blaine's reaction must make Kurt instantly realize how much that statement hurt the other boy because he immediately pulls back and softens his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just really, really stressed about this."

"I know," Blaine says, refusing to look Kurt in the eye. "I'm just trying to help."

"And you are," Kurt says, tilting to catch Blaine's gaze. "Please don't me mad, okay? I need you." He kisses Blaine softly on the tip of his nose.

Blaine smiles and tries to put on his most supportive expression. "Just tell me what you want me to do," he says.

Kurt smiles back at him and drags him into the room. "Come along, grandpa Joe."

The pair spend the next 30 minutes or so collecting Kurt's clothes and shoes, along with the aforementioned beauty products. He's just about to pack up his laptop when he realizes he hasn't checked his email in a couple of days. Not sure of the internet situation at Blaine's, he figures it might be a good idea to clean out his inbox in case he can't check it again for a while.

"You want to take those bags down to the car?" Kurt asks, motioning to the pile on the floor near his bed. "I just want to check my email and make sure I have everything I need for school tomorrow."

"Sure," Blaine replies, loading his arms with bags.

Kurt sits down on his bed and opens his laptop. His email is already open, so he waits for it to refresh. Most of it is junk mail, a few alerts from online auction sites and shipping notifications, but three emails stand out boldly from the string of receipts, spam, and ads:

Baker, Joanna; NYADA Admissions; Apr 15
Carter, Mark; Your application to Parsons; Apr 15
Admissions; Admission to NYU – Fall 2012; Apr 14

Kurt is suddenly acutely aware of his own heartbeat and breathing. And when did his palms start sweating? He can't bring himself to click on any of the emails, and without thinking he yells, "Dad! Oh my god…dad!"

Within seconds he hears heavy footfalls on the stairs and his dad is in the doorway. "What's wrong, Kurt?" he asks, eyes wide and frantic.

"Look!" Kurt shouts, pointing at the screen.

It takes his dad a second to understand the cause for his son's panicked expression, and when he does, his eyes go impossibly wider.

"Are you going to open them?" he asks quietly.

"I don't know if I'm ready," Kurt replies, looking up at his dad. "You do it." He shoves the laptop into Burt's hands.

"Okay, okay…just breathe, kid." He stifles a laugh, knowing his son wants him to take this seriously. "Which one should I open first?"

"I don't care," Kurt huffs. "Just do it."

Burt reaches out to click.

"NYADA!" Kurt blurts. "Open the NYADA one first."

Burt nods and steels his expression as his eyes scan the screen.

"What's it say?" Kurt asks impatiently.

Burt's face breaks into a wide grin. "You got in, buddy…you did it!"

Before the sentence is even finished, Kurt lunges forward and throws an arm around his dad's neck. He pulls back and covers his mouth with his hand in shocked delight.

"I got in," he says softly.

"Want me to open the others?" Burt asks.

Kurt nods silently.

"Parsons said…."

Kurt lifts an eyebrow and bites his lip.

"Yes!" his dad shouts.

Kurt squeals in delight and bounces on the bed a little. He tries to compose himself a bit, failing miserably, so when he asks about NYU it comes out breathy and higher than he wanted.

Burt's expression falters a bit, and he says, "Waitlisted, deferred until spring. So not a total loss." He looks up apprehensively, but Kurt is still smiling.

"No, that's great!" he says. "Parsons and NYADA…and even NYU if I want to wait a semester. Oh my god, dad…I'm getting out of Ohio. I'm going to New York!"

Burt tosses the laptop on the bed and grabs his son in the most bone-crushing hug he can manage without suffocating the poor guy. They jump around the room and hoot for a good 30 seconds before pulling apart and staring at each other awkwardly.

"Dad, we should talk," Kurt says quietly.

"Yeah," Burt says. "We should."

Blaine had been standing in the doorway smiling broadly for a few moments. He walked up just in time to see Kurt throw his arms around his father the first time. He listens quietly at the door and hears that Kurt has gotten into Parsons, NYADA, and waitlisted for NYU. He's so grateful that Kurt and Burt have made up, that he doesn't want to interrupt them to offer his own congratulations. So he listens quietly at the door, smiling, as the two men celebrate Kurt's victory.

But neither one notices Blaine's bright smile turn to a confused frown when he hears how excited Kurt is to be moving to New York. And they certainly don't notice him turning quietly to leave. Burt's triumphant hoots follow him down the stairs and all the way to the front door. When he closes the heavy oak door behind him, it blocks out the celebration.