"These eggs," Blaine told Kurt as he laid his fork down on his plate with a loud clinking sound. "Suck."

Kurt smiled, as he prodded his own fork into the centre of the omelette on his plate. It was a pale yellow colour, on  the verge of green, really and had dark blobs all throughout. He guessed they were the mushrooms, but didn't risk taking a bite to find out.

"I think everything here sucks," he informed Blaine as he looked around the shabby diner. "Which apparently doesn't seem to bother the locals."

"Right?" Blaine said, looking around now, too, dark eyes wide. "You would think one visit would mean that 'I'm never, ever, ever coming back' would be set in stone, but no."

He was right. The place was disgusting. The health and safety authority would have a field day if they discovered it. A pungent scent wafted through the air, a cross between a garbage disposal and grease. Kurt looked at the torn up booths, every one of them filled.  Every stool at the counter was occupied and the staff were run off their feet. The floors were filthy, the crevices of the tiles filled with dirt and the Angel knew what else. The ceilings had damp patches every where, the tables had graffiti on them and the legs were uneven.  Despite all this, the place was swarming with people. It was amazing. 

Blaine raised the chipped coffee cup to his lips, his nose wrinkling along the bridge as he sniffed the contents. He took a sip, then spat the coffee out, splashing every where. Kurt gave him a half-disgusted, half-amused look, as he patted a paper towel across his right shoulder.

"Sorry," Blaine muttered, his face twisting. He pointed at the coffee cup, brown liquid dripping down the side. "But that is vile."

"By the Angel, Blaine," Kurt said, laying the napkin down on the table. "Do you want to go some place else? Or do you want to stay here and complain some more?"

Blaine frowned and sat back against the torn booth. He folded his arms over his chest and met Kurt's eyes with his own.

"Take some of that coffee and let that make your mind up for you."

"I'll pass," Kurt uttered, looking down into his still full coffee cup. It looked greasy, like someone had taken a large bottle of oil and poured the entire contents into that one cup, that was the only way he could explain it. There also seemed to be minute white particles  floating in it. 

Kurt pushed the cup away from him and stood up.

"We're leaving," he declared, feeling nauseous. 

"Wait," Blaine said, slowly.

Kurt gave him a look of confusion. Wait? 

"Wait? What do you mean wait?" Kurt asked in wonderment. "All you've done since we arrived is complain and now you want to wait?"

"Kurt," Blaine said, firmly. "Sit down."

There was something in his eyes as he said it, as he gazed off past Kurt, eyes resting near the doorway. Kurt sat.

"What is it?" he asked, in a loud whisper, because it was still pretty noisy in there with all the people. He didn't want to turn around and draw attention.

Blaine's eyes narrowed, but didn't look away.

"Ravener," Blaine breathed after a moment.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Kurt half-groaned, turning to look now. 

He was right. There was a Ravener demon by the door, several of its pitch-black, flat eyes darting around, searching for prey.

"Two in one day," Blaine said. "What in the name of the Angel is happening?" It was more of a statement than a question, really, but Kurt shrugged his shoulders, because it really was uncanny.

He looked around, nobody noticing the alligator-like creature, with its long snout and its tail like barbed wire, then shifted his gaze back to it and tried to close his mind off. It was always difficult, trying to see the world through mundane eyes, trying to push back all of your defences, to shut everything you've ever known out, but sometimes it just had to be done. It took Kurt a few seconds to block away the image of the Ravener completely. In its place, was a tall man in a three-piece suit, holding a brief case. No wonder nobody was looking.

"Question," Kurt muttered, eyes still on the demon.

"What?"

"How are we supposed to kill what everyone else thinks is a business man?"

"Oh," Blaine uttered. "Crap."

They stayed silent for a few minutes, the demon not moving, its eyes still roving.

"We could lure it outside?" Blaine suggested.

Kurt considered this and was about to agree to it, when Blaine spoke again.

"Bingo," he muttered.

Kurt swung around to see the 'man' raise a gun in the air. He narrowed his eyes and saw that the Ravener was raising its large claw. Apparently, it had chosen its prey, too, its eyes locked on a small boy sitting in a high chair. Someone screamed, something about a gun and Kurt and Blaine were out of their seats like lightning. Kurt reached into his jeans and produced the blade he had taken from his case on the way. Blaine did the same.

"Hungry," the creature hissed out in its raspy voice, its pointed fangs bared. "Eat. To eat. So. Hungry."

Its eyes were wide and glistening and it began to move, very quickly towards the child, green slime leaking from the corner of its lips. The child's mother gathered him up in her arms and Kurt moved in, raising the blade high above his head.

"Gavreell!" he omitted, before lodging the gleaming blade into the Ravener's arched back. It cried out, a loud hiss escaping it's fanged mouth, its long, black tongue leaping from its confines.

Everyone in the diner watched in awe and horror as Blaine, having named his blade,  stepped forward and sliced it across the back of the creature's neck. It screeched and fell to the ground in a heap, before disappearing. On the ground, the body of a man was visible to the eyes of the mundane people, but in reality, nothing was there.

"You killed him," the mother of the child gasped, eyes wide and on Blaine. "He was just going to rob the place and you killed him!"

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came.

"Yeah, and if he hadn't," Kurt interjected. "Your son would be dead. Come on," he reached out and tapped Blaine on the shoulder.

Kurt turned away and Blaine fell into step beside him, but the security guard stepped in front of them. He was a large, heavy set man, with bulging eyes and a receding hair line.

"Wait one moment, boys," he said in his loud voice. "You murdered a man on the spot with some sort of mystical items, you can't just leave. The police are going to want to talk to you."

They weren't going to be real police, Kurt knew that. Demons often followed their tracks well. 

"What are you, anyway?" the guy asked, curiously. "What are those? Tattoos? Are you in some sort of gang? Some sort of cult? You're not Satan worshippers, are you?"

Kurt groaned and Blaine cleared his throat.

"Listen," he said. "We only did what had to be done and we need to be on our way."

Kurt raised his eyebrows at him. What a bad explanation. He rolled his eyes and reached up, tugging Blaine by the sleeve.

"Come on," he sighed. "Let's go sit down and wait for the police."

"But—"

"Come on," Kurt urged, eyes wide, trying to say trust me, but Blaine wasn't catching on. He rolled his eyes again and steered Blaine back to the booth. The security guy was trying to calm people down now.

"What are you playing at?" Blaine hissed, leaning across the table.

"Give me your stele," Kurt said, extending an open palm.

"What?" Blaine asked, incredulously.

"Blaine," Kurt groaned. "Trust me, okay? Now give me your God damned stele."

Blaine watched him for a split second, then reached into his pocket and handed Kurt the cylindrical object.

"Give me your hand under the table," Kurt said, quietly.

A flicker of confusion graced Blaine's eyes as he pushed his hand towards Kurt, beneath the table. Kurt pushed Blaine's sleeve away and pressed the cool stele to his wrist. He began drawing an invisibility rune, the black lines spreading across his skin like wild fire. When he was done, he pushed the stele into Blaine's hand and tugged his own sleeve up.

"Draw on me," he instructed.

He felt the familiar burn sweeping across his skin as Blaine traced the glamour on him. When he was done, he pushed the stele back in his pocket and stood up. Kurt stood, too. 

"There's got to be a back door," Blaine said, heading towards the kitchen.

Nobody could see them now and just as they walked through the open door and past the deep fat fryer, Kurt heard a commotion erupting inside the diner.

"They're gone!" someone shouted, followed by loud voices.

Blaine turned back and rolled his eyes. He reached out and took Kurt by the elbow.

"Come on," he said, steering him out the open back door. 

Once outside, the boys made a beeline for Blaine's car, hearts thumping fast, breathing laboured. They climbed inside and took a moment to catch their breath.

"This," Kurt breathed. "Is the worst day of my life."

"I've had worse," Blaine shrugged and Kurt thought about questioning that, but didn't when he saw the mask of something sinister passing over Blaine's face, then disappearing just as quickly as it had come.

"We're going to be like fugitives now, you know," Kurt realised. "Not only have we committed what appeared to be murder, but we basically just proved that something beyond simple humans exist. The entire mundane world is going to be on the look out for us."

Blaine was smiling now.

"Since when do we care about the mundane world?"

"Um, since we started living in it?" Kurt offered.

Blaine shook his head.

"Maybe the local mundanes will be looking for us, but we'll be fine once we're in New York."

"If we ever get there, sure," Kurt said, biting his bottom lip gently.

Blaine was still smiling, however, his mouth tight, eyebrows high. Kurt's heart was still beating far too quickly and he wondered how Blaine could be so calm.

"We'll get there," Blaine assured him. 

"Before Christmas?" Kurt smirked, looking at Blaine sideways.

"Way before Christmas," Blaine grinned broadly. "Relax."

"Relax?" Kurt spluttered. "The mundanes will be looking for us, the Clave will lock us in the dungeons and throw away the key. We are technically on the run, Blaine."

Blaine was chuckling now, his eyes closed.

"No, we're not. Besides, that whole fugitive thing?" Blaine informed Kurt, then finished in a semi-whisper. "Totally hot."

Kurt stared at Blaine like he had just suggested they learn ballet, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

"You don't think so?" Blaine asked, still grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Kurt hadn't really thought about it before, but right now, the idea of a fugitive Blaine was inexplicably hot to him. He shook his head in an endeavour to rid his mind of the images of a leather-clad Blaine, skidding away from the cops, because, by the Angel, that was totally not hot, except it kind of was and it most certainly should not have been. He rolled his eyes in a final endeavour to feign boredom and disapproval, then spoke.

"Drive, Blaine," he said, tiredly. "Just drive."

                                                               ***

"You have no idea where we are, do you?"

"Seems like a nice time for you to provide me with yet another fascinating quote about detours."

"Blaine!" Kurt groaned, as he reached for the map on the backseat.

He studied it for a long time, looking up every few moments, trying to catch an inkling about where they were from the road signs as they drove by. A few minutes later, Kurt's eyes widened as he matched a location on a road sign to one on the map.

"North Carolina?" he exploded. "Are you serious?"

"Is that where we are?" Blaine asked, calmly and Kurt could see the ghost of a smile dancing on his lips.

"I can't believe this," Kurt breathed, sinking back in his seat, allowing the map to drop from his hands and fall down by his ankles. "I'm never going anywhere with you ever again."

"Oh, come on, you wouldn't pass up a chance to go on another road trip with me!" Blaine said, succumbing to the smile. "You know you can't resist my hilarity!" 

Kurt shot him a look of displeasure as he folded his arms across his chest. 

"Get to a hotel or something and we'll figure out a route and start out tomorrow."

"What a practical idea," Blaine grinned and turned off at the next exit sign. "Do you have a wise quote to go with that?"

"Yes," Kurt snapped. "It goes like this: Get to a God damned hotel now, before we end up in Florida, at which point I will cover you in blood and leave you tied upside down in a vampire lair, then I will go back the next morning and collect your bones and feed them to the wolves!"

Blaine was chuckling now and Kurt felt the heat rise up the back of his neck. He had forgotten what a kick Blaine seemed to get out of his little bouts of anger and frustration.

"Seems a little harsh," Blaine snickered.

"I dislike you," Kurt told him.

"Lies," Blaine said, smiling from ear to ear, before pulling into a hotel parking lot.

                                                           ***

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine hissed in the darkness. Kurt turned around in the single bed so tat he was facing Blaine in the other single bed a little away from him.

"What?"

"Do you miss it?" Blaine asked, softly. "Being home?"

Kurt considered this. 

"No," he conceded. "My real home is in Idris."

"But you miss your dad?"

"Yes, but beyond that, I miss nothing else," Kurt informed him. "You?"

Blaine was quiet for a long time. Kurt listened to his even breaths in the darkness, to the sounds of his body shifting, to the small sighs escaping his lips.

"Not really," he said, simply.

They were silent for a long time, the room in complete silence, the hushed sounds of cars driving by outside filling the air every so often. Kurt thought Blaine might be asleep, but he spoke soon after.

"Are you going to quote something?" he asked. "About being away from home?"

Kurt felt himself smiling. He thought for a moment, then chose a quote that he thought fit best. 

"'Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts,'" he said, then froze, realising that made it sound as if he was referring to Blaine.

His mind raced trying to come up with a way to get out of it, but nothing came to him.

"I like that," Blaine said, softly.

Kurt was silent, then smiled.

"I do, too."

A long time passed and Kurt could feel the slumber drifting in, pulling him down. He felt content there, with Blaine in the room, taking comfort in the soft breaths and murmurs he omitted every now and then. Just as Kurt was about to give in to the sleep tugging away at his body, Blaine spoke again.

"Hey, Kurt?"

"Mmh?" Kurt muttered, opening his eyes.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Kurt was wide awake now. What on earth was he sorry for?

"Sorry?" Kurt asked. "What for?"

Blaine sighed and Kurt could hear him turning over. His voice was louder now that he was facing Kurt, too.

"Getting us lost," he supplied. "Being stupid and thinking that the further away we got, the longer it would be before I had to see my dad."

Kurt said nothing. He wondered what exactly it was about Blaine's dad that made him so uneasy. After a long time, he heard Blaine turn away with a small sigh.

"It's okay," Kurt said, finally.

He heard Blaine freeze, then, his breath catching, but he didn't speak.

"It's okay," Kurt said, again. "Sometimes we have to lose ourselves in order to find ourselves and if you want to take advantage of this trip in order to do that, I say go for it."

"Really?" Blaine uttered, sounding more vulnerable than Kurt had ever heard him be since they'd met.

"Sure," Kurt shrugged, even though Blaine couldn't see him. "It could be good for both of us."

He meant it, too. He hadn't realised until that very moment, but he was sort of lost, himself. He was choosing a life of fighting, of killing, while his family were living mundane lives. He was on his own in this world, but maybe he didn't have to be.

"I thought you disliked me," Blaine said and Kurt could almost hear the smile in his voice, which, in turn, caused Kurt to smile, too.

"I exaggerate at times," he made his excuse.

"So, you think you can deal with spending the next few days getting lost with me?" Blaine asked with a sigh, but sounded entirely content this time.

"There is no one I would rather get lost with," Kurt apprised him.

"Me, neither," Blaine replied.

Kurt fell asleep with a smile on his face that night and he didn't know it, but so did Blaine.