“Blaine!” Kurt shouted as he left the kitchen, running to catch up with Blaine as he ran for the path into the forest where they set the rabbit snares. There was snow on the ground, but it had been several days since it had fallen, so it was not that dream-like quality that seemed so magical before. Although Kurt wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings except to be careful not to trip, there was a heavy scent of pine in the clear air. He paid it no attention as he sprinted faster, his goal running a hundred yards ahead of him. Blaine was fast, but Kurt had longer legs and was faster. “Blaine!”

Kurt put on a surge of energy and caught up with Blaine, grabbing his arm and twirling him around from the force. Blaine, who had come to an abrupt halt upon being grabbed, looked at Kurt with his eyes huge. “Kurt...let me go. Your dad is here, just go home with him. I have....ah....I have snares to check...” Kurt gasped for a moment, the refusal stinging him. But he was a stubborn boy, and moved his hand down Blaine's arm, never letting go, and held Blaine's hand tightly as he walked beside him until they were swallowed by the trees.

“Kurt, your dad...you should be with him right now. Go back,” Blaine forced himself to say, trying to do the right thing no matter how much he wanted Kurt to stay.

“I'll go back in a little while. He's here now, and he won't leave without me. Let's go look for a rabbit and we can make him some rabbit pie tonight,” Kurt tried to make it sound light, even though he was a whirlwind inside. Blaine deserved better than Kurt's disjointed babbling and he could feel it coming: he had no idea what to say given the abrupt surprise of having his father appear out of thin air and no time to prepare his emotions.

They walked for a while, hand in hand, and came to the first snare next to the river. There was never anyone here on the path: indeed there were no footprints in the snow as they walked. It was well back up in the woods, so Kurt felt confident he could talk to Blaine now without interruption.

“Hey,” he started.

“Hey,” Blaine said, his hazel eyes never looking away from Kurt's face, trying to read whatever was there, hoping for...so many things.

“You know, a lot has happened to me since that school dance last October. I would never have made it without you, Blaine, and if I haven't said it enough, I am so grateful for you. But more than that, you became my friend. My best friend. The best friend I've ever had,” he said, looking his truth directly into those hazel eyes and down into Blaine's soul. “And more than that, Blaine. I love you.”

Blaine didn't say anything for a while. He leaned against a tree, reaching out so he held both of Kurt's hands. Blaine was able to look at him, read his emotions and feel the turmoil inside of the boy he loved. He moved closer, pulling Kurt so they were flush against each others' chests. Kurt had run from the cookhouse so fast, he hadn't bothered to button his coat, so Blaine slid his hands inside and down, grasping Kurt by the waist and laying his head against Kurt's chest to hear his heart beat. He closed his eyes to concentrate. Kurt brought the edges of the coat to protect Blaine from the stinging wind, holding him tighter against his chest and kissing his hair.

Without moving his head from its place against Kurt's chest, Blaine screwed his eyes shut and whispered: “Kurt, you mean so much to me, and I don't know how to say this to you. I know it's selfish...but I love you. I love you more than anything on this Earth, Kurt, and I don't want to lose you. I don't have any idea how I'm going to live without you, but because I do love you so much, I think I need to let you go home to your family.

“You came here against your will,” Blaine continued, “and even though I helped you, it was for selfish reasons. First because I was lonely, then because I just loved you so much. I used to get up in the night and study your face because I knew you would have to leave one day. It's like I was saving up all the memories I could of you against the time when you'd be gone. I'm so sorry, Kurt, I should have asked Mr Warner sooner.....please forgive me.” Blaine whispered the last, looking down, but keeping his ear pressed to Kurt's chest to hear his heart, pounding harder and harder.

Kurt sighed. He felt like he was being torn in two, and there was nothing he could do about it. He hugged Blaine to him, trying with everything in his being to convey how much Blaine meant to him. He wanted to throw the boy down on the snow, lay on top of him and roll and struggle and grind and scratch until he was inside Blaine, not in a sexual manner necessarily, but just so they could melt together and never be apart. As much as Kurt loved his father, and he did love him more than life itself, he didn't simply love Blaine. It was more than that.

He knew it was crazy, he had only known Blaine for less than two months, but he spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about nighttime. Night was the time he could bare his soul to Blaine, they could tell each other anything. It was the time he could see Blaine's beautiful body – since the first night when Blaine shed his clothes, Kurt looked forward to that time. Then he got to cuddle as close as he wanted to, holding Blaine next to him, placing secret kisses when he thought Blaine didn't notice. He was not just in love with Blaine, he craved him. Maybe that wasn't even healthy, but that didn't make it any less true.

“Blaine, I feel the same way,” he whispered into the boy's mop of curls as he buried his nose into it, gathering the memories of Blaine's scent. “There is something between us, and I cannot explain it...but you know it, don't you?”

“Yeah, Kurt. So, what are we going to do?” Blaine asked, wiping back a few tears that dared to slide down his cheeks.

They stood, so close together until their legs were cold and stiff. Kurt stepped back, just a small bit and leaned forward, catching Blaine's mouth with his own and began to kiss those luscious lips. He was soft and tender, slowly kissing over and over as Blaine returned the kisses, gentle and sweet. Despite the blood rushing in their veins, the heat blooming in their bodies, they just kissed.

“We need to go back, Kurt. We cannot leave your father waiting any longer, let's go back,” Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand once more and leading the way back to the cookhouse.

“No matter what, Blaine...I love you and we'll be together. Okay?” Kurt asked.

“That's what I want, too.”

~*~*~*~

“Where did he go?” Burt asked again, although he knew nobody was going to answer him. He was so confused, Kurt was in his arms where he was meant to be one minute, then running away the next – and nobody was talking, they were just trying not to look at him. Finn was pacing back and forth, had stepped outside twice, but came back. The big man in the apron had brought them food, but Burt wasn't hungry.

Blaine stopped for a moment, thinking this was it, the end of being with Kurt ...he was giving him back to his family. He sighed and turned, but Kurt was there, kissing him once again, a deep, lusty kiss that reached his very center. They each took a deep breath, and walked back into the building.

~*~*~*~

“So, I know what happened with the train and how Blaine here found you...what have you been doing for two months, Kurt?” Burt asked. Finn was with Cooper and August, taking a tour of the camp and seeing how the timber was harvested.

“Oh, look, Dad!” Kurt crowed, taking a small box down from a shelf of fishing equipment.

“You learned to fish?” Burt smiled.

“Not just that, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine stated, but was stopped by an exasperated look from Burt, who had already patiently explained he wanted to be called by his first name. “Sorry, Burt. I'll remember...” Blaine blushed.

“Burt, Kurt has not just learned to fish, but see what else...” Blaine took the box and shook out several Royal coachman, wooley worms, caddis flies on different sized hooks. “Kurt tied all of these.”

Burt took them in his hand, inspecting them closely, a huge smile spreading across his face. “You did these, Kurt? They're champion! I used to tie some flies with my grandpa when I was a kid, I guess you take after me.”

Kurt smiled back, basking in his father's pride in his accomplishment.

“Blaine taught me to do so many things, Dad. I can make a squirrel pie, I can chop wood, track and snare a rabbit, gut a fish...I can milk a goat!!” Kurt was so excited, Burt just sat and looked at his son in awe. They had been talking all morning, and the boys had brought Burt back to the cabin to share all the things Kurt had been doing. Cooper saw that his brother would probably need some time to talk to Burt and so had offered to take Finn to one of the outlying projects to leave the boys time with Burt alone. He could see how much his little brother was hurting, and he had no way to help. It was breaking his heart to see what this was doing to Blaine, and he hoped giving him a few days while Coop showed Finn the timber harvest would be something at least.

Kurt sat down to the table with his dad and Blaine served them all the rabbit pie, made from the one he and Kurt had skinned that morning. They had told Burt that they were catching the rabbit when Kurt followed Blaine out of the room earlier, but Burt was nobody's fool. It didn't take that long to skin a rabbit and one usually didn't return home with kiss-swollen lips and a blush on your face from the activity. Still, he accepted the explanation without comment. He wanted to get to know this Blaine a little better.

“Blaine won his fight last week,” Kurt noted when they had been eating.

“You got in a fight?” Burt asked, his brow raising. He could see the remnants of a first class shiner on his eye.

“No, Dad, he's a prize fighter. He boxes. I didn't think I'd really like boxing, but Blaine is a champion,” Kurt bragged.

“It's just in the camps, sir, I don't do it for the Olympics or anything. My dad and my brother, Cooper, were boxers, and I kind of followed in their footsteps.” Blaine shrugged it off, he was never one to brag on himself and was a little embarrassed that Kurt made such a big deal about it.

“Hmmm ...a welterweight?” Burt asked and Blaine nodded. “It takes a steady man to train to be a fighter, that isn't something you pick up on a whim, Blaine. How long have you been doing it?” he asked.

“Pete, my trainer, started me when I was thirteen doing strengthening exercises and endurance. He was my dad's trainer and my brother's.” Blaine explained. “I earn enough through a few fights a year to make a living for myself.”

The conversation went on, and towards evening the cards came out. Kurt learned that his father knew how to play cribbage and they took turns playing until the sun went down, a penny a point and at the end of the evening Blaine was the big winner.

“I need to go get water and settle the goats for the night,” Blaine said, getting his coat on. He left in a hurry, Kurt and his dad still sitting at the table with cards in their hands.

“Okay, son. I can see that Blaine means more to you than just the guy that taught you to tie flies. Tell me what's up and why you took off after him this morning,” Burt said.

Kurt sat still for a few minutes. He had no idea how to tell his father. When he left Ohio, Kurt had never even been on a date, much less had a boyfriend. Burt had gotten him some pamphlets and they talked about relationships, but it was more because he felt that Finn needed that kind of information with dating Rachel than it was a concern for any immediate need on behalf of Kurt. Burt was just trying to make it fair. It wasn't as if Burt had never thought about Kurt having those kinds of things happen – boyfriends and relationships – but it was so abstract. Now it was in his face and it happened while Kurt was too far away. His son had basically grown up in the two months he was gone and Burt was grasping at the whole concept of it, but he wasn't there yet.

“It's complicated, Dad, I have no idea where to begin,” Kurt said, planting his face in his hands and trying to think of how to explain Blaine to his father. The two were so absorbed in their conversation, neither one noticed a shadow outside the cabin window. Kurt sat that way for a while, thinking and thinking all the things about Blaine were flooding his mind and he began to tremble. There was no way to tell his dad everything – and he was so scared of what Burt was going to say or do, and he hated the thought of leaving the boy he had given his heart to...

“I know, Kurt, but is it that complicated?” Burt asked, using his finger on Kurt's chin to pull him up to look him in the eye, because he might not be ready for all of this, he might not know Blaine or their circumstances...but he knew Kurt. He stood up, gathering his son in his arms and held him while he cried. Kurt let loose the dam that had been holding his emotions and thoughts all day and the tears came rushing out, cascading down his face and drenching Burt's shirt as Kurt let loose. He clung to his dad, telling him about the loneliness he had experienced and how he never realized how it was killing him until he met Blaine and discovered what it was like to have someone care about him. He told Burt how devastated he was, how confused because he wanted with all his heart to go home to his family, but he wanted just as much to stay here with Blaine. He finally stopped, sitting back and wiping his face, still shaking with the relief of getting it all out in the open and knowing his father heard and understood every word.

“Then it isn't really complicated, is it, Kurt? Burt said, looking closely at his son.

“No, Dad, It's the simplest thing in the world: I love him. I love Blaine with all my heart and he loves me just the same.”

Burt sighed. He was so happy when he got the call from Brayden Warner last night. He was going to fly to the backwoods of Oregon and bring home his lost son. End of story. But now, he had no idea what to do. Yes, he still wanted to bring Kurt home, but he was not about to break Kurt's heart in the process. He needed to sleep on it, then call Carole. They had a lot to talk about.

“I can see that, Kurt. Now, take me to the cookhouse, Brayden has invited me to stay as long as I like at his house, and I am too old to sleep in a rope bed on a feather tick. We'll sit down in the morning with Blaine and his brother and work this out.” Burt got up and pulled on his coat while Kurt got his and walked his father back to the cookhouse. A camp jeep was there and one of the lumberjacks was ready to take Burt to the Warner house at the end of the road. Lenore was still there and offered to go with him. She looked over past Kurt and saw Blaine standing in the shadow of a tree at the edge of the clearing. She smiled at him and nodded her head and he blew her a kiss.

~*~*~*~

“I won't lie to you, Kurt. I was sitting outside the window listening while you talked to your dad. I don't know what to say, Kurt. My heart is so full right now...” Blaine said. His face showed signs of crying, streaks of salt where he had brushed the tears away; and Kurt knew Blaine had probably been crying just as much as he had. They walked into the cabin and Blaine put the bar on the inside of the door and closed the wooden shutters to the windows, latching them. He wanted no interruptions tonight.

They took off the clothes they had worn all day, Blaine getting the basin out and Kurt pouring first the hot water, then the cool to make it the right temperature. Kurt took the wash cloth and dunked it into the hot water, rubbing on the soap and stepping over to Blaine to begin the ritual they had been practicing for the past months: he began at Blaine's neck, washing the dirt and sweat from the day from his golden skin. He proceeded to wash down Blaine's arms, rinsing and patting dry each piece of skin as he went so his boyfriend didn't get too cold. He worked his way down and after he did Blaine's feet, he took a soft cloth and washed his face and finally had him sit in a chair to hold his head over the basin so Kurt could wash his silky hair.

They poured the water out and got fresh water, this time Blaine washed Kurt in the hot water, ending with washing his chestnut locks and running his fingers through it, kissing Kurt on the face: his forehead, cheeks, lips...

For once, they didn't put on the layers of sleepwear that they usually did. Blaine pulled the bedwarmer out from the blankets where he had set it a few minutes ago to warm the sheets before they slipped in. He held up the blankets and sheet in invitation and Kurt slipped in next to him. At first they just lay still, skin touching from shoulder to knee, and breathed the same air. It was dark in the cabin. In a place where they were used to starlight, it was darker with the windows blocked. They had a tiny shimmer of light from the fire in the fireplace and stove, but it was enough. Kurt could see the shine from Blaine's eyes and it made him feel so warm.

They moved together, not rubbing or thrusting, just gentle, tentative fingers on skin.

Blaine's nipple on the left side brushed against Kurt's and both of them pushed against the other. It was slow and tentative, their eyes seeking and granting permission before the friction started in earnest, slow stroking as Blaine moved to rub against Kurt. It was accompanied by gasps and then kisses, all very soft and gentle for a while. But like kindling catching a spark, they burst into flames as the rubbing got increasingly more vigorous. They were teenagers with the hormones that dominated boys at that age, but they were also curious as cats with discovering another body and what felt good, and what they could share to deepen the meaning of their love.

The blankets worked their way down and the boys pulled them back up, it was cold in the cabin, and Kurt reached over to take Blaine's hardness in his hand and began gently stroking. It was unexpected and the touching and kissing for so many nights without a satisfactory conclusion was on both of their minds. They both wondered if this would be the last opportunity, the last time to show how much they loved each other.

Blaine wondered for a moment if he could concentrate enough to stroke Kurt at the same time he was being stroked, but there was only one way to find that out and he went for it. They kissed, scooting closer so as to be able to reach better, get better leverage perhaps, and when the lack of any lubrication became noticeable, Kurt spit in his hand to ease the roughness. Blaine stopped for a moment and Kurt looked up, but couldn't read Blaine's expression in the dark. Blaine held up a hand to stop him and slid out of the bed. He went to the cupboard in the kitchen, bringing back a little pot.

“Beeswax and lanolin,” he said, handing it to Kurt as he got back in bed.

Kurt smelled it and smiled, “Ah, there's a reason to keep sheep, I guess...” and got a small dollop on his fingers.

Blaine laid back and relaxed a tiny bit on the pillows. Kurt used the slick stuff on his fingers and it worked fine. They lay so close, breathing the same air, fumbling because neither one of them had too clear a view on how this all worked. Sliding his fist down Blaine's shaft made Kurt feel even more heated, and noises came out of his mouth unbidden. Blaine was stiff and embarrassed, but with time and Kurt's gentle coaxing he relaxed into the rhythm of it.

It took time, but Kurt was ever patient and kept up the caressing and a small fire was finally lit in Blaine. He wanted this so badly, had dreamed of it on countless nights, but when it came to the realization...he was just so scared. Long before he was close, he was trembling. Then very suddenly Blaine was there – the heat curling, the excitement and the need and the rush, and he came so, so hard: not shouting, but with a quiet amazement and gasping breath.

Kurt took his discarded flannel shirt and wiped Blaine's skin clean as he had returned to regular breathing. “Are you okay, baby? Did I do it right?” Kurt asked with trepidation.

“Oh, Kurt...yes...I never dreamed it would feel like that. It was never like that when I ...” and the blush that flooded Blaine's face was bright and searing. He ducked his head and turned away.

“Blaine, what's wrong?” Kurt asked, but looking at Blaine's red face he figured it out. “Oh, Blaine, everyone masturbates, it's nothing to be ashamed about, especially with me.” And he took Blaine's cheek in his hand and brought his face back, kissing him sweetly at first, then a little deeper. Blaine kissed back. Then without a word, he dipped his head down to Kurt's lap and took his rock hard shaft in his lips, running his tongue across the crown. Kurt jerked his hips forward before he could register what was happening and Blaine pulled back a little. He was determined, though: having dreamed about this, but never having the courage to try it. He took the head into his mouth and the wet warmth was drawing moans out of Kurt's throat. That was the best sort of encouragement and Blaine ventured to go farther. It wasn't the way he'd read about, the books hadn't described how it felt other than some basic ideas, but Blaine could feel all the way down into his belly the excitement of doing this for the first time. They didn't tell him about the scent of Kurt, that almost spicy odor of arousal with maybe a little sweat and a lot of the smell of the soap. The taste wasn't like he had imagined, either. It wasn't awful, but just the tiniest bit bitter and no more salty than Kurt's sweat when his tongue ran along Kurt's neck. The texture was different than he had thought, the muscle so much harder and the skin like the softest silk slipping over that muscle, responding to each twitch or movement of Blaine's tongue.

It was a kind of power Blaine had only ever felt in the boxing ring, knowing that Kurt was at his mercy: that Kurt was there willingly and wanted to participate and wasn't going to leave. He was under Blaine's power. And they were there for the duration, a question whether Blaine could conquer, and the thrill of knowing he was in control. Like boxing, this was almost sparring and it was exhilarating and amazing and Blaine didn't want it to end.

Kurt had never done this either, and the surprise and the excitement was making him lightheaded and dizzy as he got so close to climax, so fast...he called Blaine's name to warn him that it was coming, to let go - but to no avail, so he pushed Blaine back by the shoulder and got the soiled flannel pajama shirt in place before he came, the semen spurting into the fabric as Kurt panted and called Blaine's name again and again – Blaine stroking down Kurt's shaft, caressing his thighs and cupping his balls as Kurt slowed down and let his head drop back onto the pillow. When Kurt was done, Blaine gathered the shirt, bunching up the offending liquid inside the folds and set it gently on the floor beside the bed.

Blaine opened his arms and held Kurt so close, his ear against Kurt's chest as he listened to his heart beating so hard and fast – as it slowed down to a steady beat as their breath returned to normal. Kurt ran his fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his boyfriend's neck until Blaine relaxed.

“Blaine, that was wonderful, magnificent. It was...not what I imagined at all, it was better and deeper somehow, it was all the way to my heart, not just in one place, but all of me.” Kurt whispered, not knowing how to contain the things he was feeling.

“I know. I know....” Blaine whispered back, pulling Kurt farther under the blankets to cuddle. “Kurt, I don't know how I'm going to let you go,” Blaine whispered so quietly he thought Kurt didn't hear him.

But Kurt did, and tears slid down his cheeks in the dark.

Several hours later, Blaine woke up, immediately sensing that Kurt wasn't in the bed. He reached out for that solid warmth he'd become accustomed to and when it wasn't there, he was wide awake. Was this what nights were going to be like for him now? Waking to a cold bed, yearning for the one person that made him feel good and whole and worthwhile – only to realize there was no way for him to get that person back. How was Kurt supposed to even visit him, train tickets were expensive from Ohio and the Oregon lumber camps were not easy to access, unless you were a Warner and owned things like helicopters. It was so damned hopeless.

It was, of course, the coldest part of the night and Blaine didn't have a stitch on. He looked around, spying Kurt as he sat on the settee in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a quilt and wearing thick woolen socks. Blaine got out of bed, walking through the freezing cabin and standing in front of Kurt, who opened the blanket in invitation and Blaine climbed inside, cuddling into Kurt's side while Kurt re-wrapped the blanket to include them both.

The boys sat, just thinking to themselves and moving as if prearranged to accommodate each other. It was so seamless, this thing they had of almost reading the mind of the other and understanding where or how the other would move. It began just shortly after Kurt came...when they cooked dinner together, when they walked in the woods together, even in sleep in the big rope and feather bed, one would turn and the other adjusted so they didn't lose contact even in deep sleep.

Talking had no place as they cuddled together on the settee and after watching the flames in the fireplace for a while, they got up and got back into bed, close so as to pool their heat. They lay there, not talking, just touching in the gentlest way for more than an hour before Kurt felt the damp pillow case and turned his head to see the tears spilling from Blaine's hazel eyes.

“Oh, Blaine...you're breaking my heart, and I don't know what to do. I don't want to be apart from you, you're a part of me, too, and it's ripping me to pieces. How did life get so hard?”

“I don't know. I have had other things taken from me before, Kurt. I never knew my mother and my father died just a few years ago. You know my life, I haven't held back – and I know I can toughen up and learn to live without you being here. I know it will feel like I can't live without you, but I will be strong until we can be together again. And Kurt? Your place really is with your family. You are still a kid, and living here is a hard life. You need to go home with your dad and your brother, Kurt.” Blaine made no plea for him to stay because he didn't think that was fair.

Kurt just lost it. He'd been trying so hard to make the last minutes of his time with Blaine into the best, so they could take those memories and hold them in the days to come. But he lost his resolve, he lost his focus, and he was about to lose a lot more: like his dignity, his hope and the worst thing of all...his Blaine. He was a little surprised he had so many tears, like he might run out or something. It was so unfair of life to do this.

“Blaine....” was all he could say, but that was okay, Blaine understood. They lay together in their warm nest and just existed together. For now, it was all either one needed. They didn't fall back asleep, just lay next to each other, touching while they could.

~*~*~*~

The new day dawned and thin streams of light came into the cabin through the cracks in the window shutters. Kurt got up and thought about getting dressed, it was cold in the room and clothes would be nice. He glanced over to Blaine, who was sitting naked on the bed looking back. He returned to Blaine's side and together they kissed, holding each other for what might be the last time, and then sat, touching. Kurt traced the muscles in Blaine's body, following the paths and skimming over the planes of his form as though to memorize Blaine's landscape.

Blaine was doing something similar and after using fingertips to map all the places he knew, it was too hard. He nuzzled his face down into Kurt's neck, just tasting the tender skin there with kisses that trailed down to his collarbone, but quickly retreated back to his neck, up to his jawline, behind his ear and back. After a while, they broke apart, realizing they could not delay the inevitable much longer and dreading the knock on the door. They got dressed, Blaine telling Kurt to keep all the clothes he had given him since Cooper had outgrown them.

They cooked a quick breakfast of a few eggs and toast, then opened the door, letting in the bright sunshine and going to the goatshed to milk Betsy and Bossy, feed them and collect eggs before feeding all the animals. Lenore's wolf was at Shannon's, it's little tummy being filled with goat's milk and farina now.

The boys walked to the cookhouse, swinging the pails of milk they took to Shannon. Entering the building, Cookie smiled at them and nodded toward the dining room. Like entering the last mile, they walked slowly, holding hands. Burt was sitting at a table, his hands folded in front of him, a smile on his face.