Blaine took Carole’s seat as she and Kurt left, standing again before his ass hit the seat. “Can I…can I get you some water?”

“Yes. If there’s another glass, pour yourself some too.”

“I’m fine…” Blaine’s hands shook as he poured the ice water from the small pink pitcher, but he managed without spilling and offered Burt the glass, aiming the straw to his lips. “What can I do for you, Mr. Hummel?”

“Well, stop being a nervous ninny for one. And then come sit down over here so I can see you better. Also, can you fix my hat? I feel like Oscar the Grouch with this thing.”

“Do you just…” Blaine lifted the cap from Burt’s bald head and smiled. “…want it off?”

“That’s fine. You’ve seen bald heads before, I’m sure.”

“I have. My father sports one. Or, he should. He is convinced that wisp on top is fooling people.”

Burt smiled and took the hat from Blaine, hooking it onto one of his IV bags. “Is your beautiful hair from your mom or your dad?”

“Mom. So I’m hoping to avoid the balding thing…” Blaine rubbed at the top of his hair and grinned, biting back his nerves.

“Kurt got his mother’s hair too. I’m very thankful because he rocks just about any look, but I’m thinking bald might trip him up.”

Blaine had to laugh, remembering the reaction when Kurt found one single solitary gray hair a few weeks ago. He had to talk him down off the hair-color-for-life ledge for the entirety of the day. “I’m not thinking he’d go into it gracefully.”

“You’re thinking right about that. Vanity was one of the seven deadly I couldn’t quite teach out of him.”

“Well, he has more fun with some of the other sins now anyway.”

Burt paused a moment and looked at Blaine with an eyebrow cocked, trying as hard as possible to look affronted. Fortunately, his ornery met with Blaine’s and the tension – nerves and potentially awkward conversation – melted between them.

“I like you, Blaine.”

“I like you too, Mr. Hummel.”

“I’m not going to like you much longer if you don’t start calling me Burt. Also, no one grabbed my football charts. Since I’m sort of with it, I need you to fill those in and bring them to me.”

“I’ll take care of that this evening.” They were silent for a few moments longer than comfortable and after Blaine gave him some more water, he wiped his hands on his thighs and sat, taking Burt’s hand in his. “You wanted to talk to me, Burt?”

Burt looked down at their hands, and rubbed his bald head, smiling weakly before he began. “We have a lot in common, you and I.”

“We do.”

“I want to talk to you about my son. From one dad to another.”

“Two of my most favorite topics.”

Burt closed his eyes and squeezed Blaine’s hand. “You love him?”

“I do. Very much, sir.”

“You know, when Lizzie died…I was scared. I didn’t know how to love him like she did. I figured I’d get him fed and watered, but…the care part? I was lost. And he’s complicated.”

Blaine chuckled, imagining the little boy he and Kurt had talked about – the soccer-scared, too-pretty-to-be-a-boy little boy whose Mom had just died. Complicated didn’t even begin. And then, he thought of Adrian. Less complicated, yet still…so utterly, utterly…complicated. “Sounds very familiar.”

“I thought it might. But something happened. After the initial bumbling and screwed up dinners and lousy attempts at comforting him when other kids were cruel. After that first year, there was a peace about him. And at some point – when he was in middle school – I realized what it was.”

“What was it?”

“It was Lizzie. It was like she spent that first year circling around us, seeing if we’d be okay and…she just settled inside of Kurt. I know I’m an overly proud father. But, Blaine? That man you’re in love with? My son? He has an angel inside of him. He’s an angel in a man’s body.”

Blaine had to break eye contact, focusing on the veins in Burt’s hands, protruding more than his years should allow. Aging quicker than was fair. Watching his wedding video to get to know him was sweet – but this? This was an intimacy neither he or Kurt could have imagined. “Did he ever tell you about the day we met?”

“Are you asking me if I remember something in the recent past?”

Blaine blushed and tried again. “Let me tell you about the day we met.”

“I’d love to hear the story.”

“I had just moved here. I was a wreck. Maggie had been gone…8…9 months and I was just beginning to feel again. I had no idea if I was doing the right thing by moving, but it was a done deal. I had a mortgage, a 5 year old and an entire fire department under my care. It was my fourth or fifth fire since I’d moved and it was about 105 degrees outside that day.”

“Sounds like hell. Literally.”

“When we were told there was a mother and her daughter in the house, it was a literal hell. I have a team that rescues, but like an ass, I went in. I think I had to prove something?” Blaine shook his head at himself. “I had no back up to take the other side of the house when I went the wrong way. I was in there too long. Too, too long. But I found them and got them out.”

“And then it was just as hot outside as in that fire.”

“Exactly. Our medics had the mom and daughter and our other medic team wasn’t staffed…which, I might add, has since been fixed. That will never happen again.”

A phlebotomist popped in and smiled at the two men, wordlessly taking Burt’s other hand, popping small viles onto and off of the cannula, drawing blood with each new colored lid. “They’re going to suck it all out of me before long.” After a few moments, she left and Burt sighed, smiling weakly at his story teller. “I’m tired of all of this, Blaine…and I’ve slept through most of it.”

“I can’t imagine how tired you are.”

“So…finish your story. You were hot and stupid.”

Blaine laughed and took a breath to continue. “I was a whole lot of both. I was fading in and out – I don’t even remember taking off my equipment…I don’t even remember sitting down. What I do remember, though?” Blaine stopped and let the memory wash over him with a teary-eyed grin. “Little did I know it would change my life forever.”

“That…would be my son.”

“It would indeed. I know it was my heat exhaustion, but it was like he came out of a fog. All I could see were his eyes. They were gray-green that day…”

“They change with what he wears, don’t they?”

“And his moods. And they get darker when he’s tired. But that day, they were clear and…breath-taking. He gave me water and I looked at him again and completely hung myself – because if he hadn’t been gay, I’d have probably had a restraining order put against me.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him he was an angel…in a red vest.”

Burt loosened his grip on Blaine’s hand and smiled. It was the brightest smile he’d mustered in weeks. Months. Forever. “So, you already know.”

“I guess I do. I didn’t know then, of course. But I knew he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. And he took care of me without making me feel stupid. He was efficient and professional and yet, there was a softness about him that didn’t come from training. And when I was feeling better and he teased me about being a wimp, well…”

“…you found your man.”

“I found my man. Until the whole mess with Adrian…”

“You got him back, though.”

“I did. We did. And I think now I get how he’s so in tune with Adrian. I mean, I assumed, but…it’s not just that he's lost his mom; it's that she's with him, isn’t it?”

“Probably. He has a connection to Adrian you just can’t have.”

“It’s like he has a rule book. I’ve been looking for the damned thing since she got sick and he’s in there maneuvering it all like he was made for it.”

“He was. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. I know you’ll take care of him, Blaine. It’s your nature. It’s his nature to let you – he loves getting pampered.”

Blaine smiled and chuckled, remembering the break in their New York trip for a manicure and pedicure. The I-can’t-talk-nows because he was having a bubble bath. The post-stomach flu potato demands. And of course, the run to the storage garage on the edge of town to get boxes upon boxes of cold weather clothes because he could only fit one season’s worth in his closets at a time. “I like pampering him.”

“But, Blaine? When he shines? When he blooms? Is when he’s allowed to take care of other people. And…the world misses that about him. Part of it is his own fault – he’s so…” Burt lifted his nose up in the air, imitating and trying to come up with a word.

“Regal. Elegant. And he is those things.” Blaine’s thoughts were firing faster than his words, his feelings sparking the room as he fell deeper and deeper in love realizing he got Kurt. He had the core of him – of what makes him tick. Of what makes him happy. “You’d think he was aloof, but he’s not. He’s one of the most generous, loving people I’ve ever met.”

“So you do get him. You did at the very start.”

“I did. I do. I’ll never forget.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear. You remember that? And the three of you will be the happiest men on the planet.”

“He already makes me the happiest man on the planet.” Burt smacked at his dry lips and Blaine stood to offer him more water. “So, thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For raising him. For me. For Adrian.”

“It’s been my greatest honor.”

***

Kurt had spent that evening poking and prodding, kissing and licking, tickling and threatening to never again make his famous most-delicious-ever-to-be-made pot roast to find out what Blaine and Burt had spoken about. But Blaine would not be moved. Even though he particularly enjoyed the kissing and licking portion of Kurt’s attempts.

The next morning, Kurt tried cajoling him with an elaborate breakfast, complete with smoked salmon omelets and a pear bellini and a hurry-before-Adrian-misses-us blow job. Blaine still wasn’t talking.

“We spoke father-to-father, Kurt. And taking my pants off isn’t going to…oh. Jesus.”

In hindsight, making the man unable to speak probably wasn’t the best way to get him to…speak. But, had been a fun failure, so all was not lost.

Later that morning, Kurt met Blaine at the station for a county-wide safety meeting, sneaking in a kiss as he sat down with the lunch Captain Harris’ mom had apologetically prepared. “Sorry about the pasta salad, guys. The dressing and I had an argument and the dressing won.”

It was still delicious. And she was adorable. Kurt had an urge to kiss her round cheeks every time he saw her, but figured he’d probably get a smack across the face if he tried. Darling and motherly, but the woman didn’t take crap from anyone including cute gay boys on C-DRT.

Blaine did a double take when Kurt started eating without a word. “No manipulations this afternoon?”

“Nope. I decided you having a secret with my dad was pretty spectacular. I’m not going to bother you anymore.” He shoveled in another bite of pasta salad and grimaced. “She’s right. The dressing won. Gag.”

Blaine leaned in close checking to see who was nearby, whispering conspiratorially – just in case. “You can still try…to manipulate.”

“Chief Anderson, you are being very unprofessional.” Kurt pushed him away and pretended to read the agenda, an ornery smirk promising more fun and games. Later.

And the meeting began, and Kurt zoned out, doodling on his paper, passing it back and forth with Blaine as they played dirty hangman, both of them clocking in training hours while learning absolutely nothing.

About 38 minutes into the 90 minute meeting, Kurt’s phone buzzed.

Blaine [10-20-23 12:08]: What should you do if your boyfriend starts smoking?

Kurt [10-20-23 12:08]: Give him a 4 hour dissertation on the dangers of tobacco use and then snub the offending cancer stick on the thick of his muscular, delicious thigh.

Blaine [10-20-23 12:09]: You’re not playing fairly.

Kurt [10-20-23 12:09]: You’re sitting right next to me and didn’t bother to give me the rules.

Blaine [10-20-23 12:10]: I’m going to try this again. It’s training appropriate, Kurt – safety first. What should you do if your boyfriend starts smoking?

Kurt [10-20-23 12:10]: I have no idea, Blaine. What should I do if my boyfriend starts smoking?

Blaine [10-20-23 12:11]: Slow down and use a lubricant.

Kurt [10-20-23 12:11]: Are you happy now? You got that out? We can go back to our game? BTW, you misspelled frottage. Which is my guess for your last hangman. And my request for how to spend our evening after Adrian goes to bed.

Blaine [10-20-23 12:12]: Intellectual and dirty. I love you.

About 79 minutes into the 90 minute meeting, Kurt’s phone buzzed again.

“Blaine, for the love…”

“It’s not me this time, babe.”

It was from Finn.

And with seven simple ‘words,’ Kurt was shoving his paper and pen into his bag and getting up, squeezing Blaine’s shoulder as he made a hasty exit.

Blaine followed, grabbing Kurt’s elbow before he made it out to the parking lot. “Kurt?” His eyes plead. Talk to me.

Kurt flashed him his phone, the message still shining brightly on his screen.

Finn [10-20-23 12:49]: u need 2 come 2 hospital. now.

“Go. I love you.”

***

Kurt got to the hospital in record time, although if anyone asked about the safety of his journey, he wouldn’t be able to verify anything. He flew through the lobby and skipped the elevator, jogging up four flights of stairs, slamming the heavy metal door open, wincing as it echoed through the stairwell.

Thanking the gods he didn’t believe in for the small size of the hospital, he wound his way through the few short hallways to his dad’s room, pausing only a moment before opening the door.

As he stepped through to open the curtain that had never been pulled before, he heard it. The drone of a monitor.

One note.

The note.

The unwavering tone that no one ever wants to hear.

And then, it stopped.

He gripped the hideous fabric of the curtain and yanked it open, his eyes immediately landing in Finn’s.

Finn breathed out his name, “Kurt,” and shook his head, his eyes filled to the brim with tears. Carole’s back was to the door, to Kurt, curled over the hospital bed, soft, lamenting cries sighing through the otherwise silent room.

The nurse continued to push buttons on the monitors, shutting them down with loud clicks and hisses. She looked up from her duties when she felt Kurt’s presence and a pitied breath left her body, “I’m so sorry.” She reached up and brushed her hand over Burt’s eyes, closing them and made her leave, making a point to touch Finn, Carole and Kurt on her way out.

Kurt couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. And then, he was moving. Backwards, out the door, spinning and walking, hazed and heavy, simply walking. The need gripped him like a vice and he reached for his phone, hastily typing a quick message.

As he sunk down the wall of the quiet corridor he'd spent many an hour in, he hit send, numb. Lost.

Empty.

***

Kurt [10-10-23 13:06]: I need you.

“Shit.” Blaine was out of his seat and into the station’s office like a flash and with few words spoken, he was on his way to the hospital, one of his crew driving as recklessly safe as he possibly could.

He flew into the emergency entrance and hit the service elevator to the fourth floor, emptying out into an unfamiliar hallway, almost abandoned of patients and activity. He followed signs to the cardiac step down unit where Burt had spent most of his stay, but nothing was looking familiar.

He practically skidded by a hallway, finally spying the nurse’s station and as he passed, his eye caught on a pair of Crockett & Jones that he recognized from the mat by his garage door.

“Kurt!”

Kurt was seated on the floor, his legs splayed out in front of him, staring at the floor board across from him. He didn’t flinch at his name, only blinking when Blaine got on the floor in front of him on his knees, eyes begging for answers. “Kurt?”

Kurt took in a quick breath and instead of speaking, let it out in a soft huff and looked at a new section of floor board, his eyes slowly filling, his cheeks pinking as he breathed unevenly through his parted lips. He blinked and tried again, taking in air as Blaine caught his gaze again.

“He’s gone.” Blaine’s heart sank – he knew. He knew the moment Finn's text came through.

But right now, Kurt was almost catatonic, so he waited, touching Kurt’s leg as he began to process what he was saying.

Kurt’s voice was thin and lifeless, but he swallowed and tried again. “He’s gone.” A tear slipped down his cheek and one more time, he spoke, the reality of his words sucked out all of the air in the tiny hallway. “He’s gone. Blaine.” Another breath, another tear, more and more erratic breaths peppered with, “He’s gone, he’s gone,” until Blaine saw the cracks forming in Kurt’s façade and he moved in, running his hand up Kurt’s arm.

At that simple touch, Kurt collapsed into him, the dam breaking with wails and sobs, a pain so deep, so inexpressible by the human heart that only the most primitive of words and sounds and motions were possible. Kurt scrabbled at Blaine’s shirt, pulling him in closer, his cries only strengthening, words now completely useless, no language able to express the anguish. The loss. The finality of it all.

Blaine said nothing beyond and occasional, “I know,” but held on tight, running the previous day through his head, wondering if warning Kurt of this exact possibility might have been a better course. It happened all the time – a long illness, a sudden day of health and vitality and then – they were gone.

As if Death gave one more day to make amends, to tie up loose ends, to say goodbyes before time to whisk its next victim away.

But he hadn’t said anything, enjoying the buoyancy of Kurt’s spirit that evening, the renewed flirtatiousness, the spark that had come back to lighten his world. As Kurt’s cries quieted, he quieted his mind as well, focusing solely on the moment, wanting to be everything he could be, hoping, even praying it would be enough.

Kurt finally loosened his grip, his stuttering sobs slowing as he sat back, grabbing at tissues from a box that had magically appeared on the floor. “The tissue fairy came.”

Blaine looked down the hall in time to see a pair of white shoes turn the corner. “She did. I wonder if she’s in cahoots with the tooth fairy.”

The smallest corner of Kurt’s mouth turned up and he sat back against the wall, exhausted, spent and drenched with sweat, tears and pain. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine scolded with his eyes, words pointless. “Kurt…”

“It hurts. I feel like a knife is just stuck.” He clasped at his chest and twisted, closing his eyes and pulling at his shirt as though trying to yank the knife out himself. “I don’t even know what happened. I just took off.”

“He’d already passed?”

Kurt nodded. “I must have missed him by seconds.”

“Oh, honey. Are Carole and Finn still with him?”

“I’d assume.” Kurt leaned his head back against the wall, and sighed. “I suppose I should go back and actually acknowledge them. Him.” Tears threatened again and Kurt curled in on himself, silent cries wracking his body as Blaine sat and soothed, rocking them until he felt Kurt’s back ease again.

Blaine waited, remembering well the inability to think, the moments of inappropriately timed jokes, the complete chaos of the mind right after Maggie took her last breath. Just like Burt, death was a bit of a relief – for the dying - but for the survivors, the thought of living without. Of taking the next step, and then the next one, felt insurmountable. The last thing he had wanted was someone telling him what he should do, how he should feel.

And so he waited.

Kurt blew his nose, chuckling at the noise echoing in the hall and smiled weakly as he moved to stand. “Will you walk me down?”

Blaine reached back and turned off his radio, the sporadic hisses, pops and calls having become an almost inaudible drone between them. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I love you.” Kurt bit back more tears, swallowing them away. “He loved…I’m so glad he got to see that I’m happy.”

“It’s all he ever wanted for you.”

Kurt held Blaine’s hand and took a deep breath before starting down the hall. “You helped make that wish come true.”

Blaine smiled, remembering his conversation with Burt not even 24 hours before, vowing to himself to be for Kurt all that Burt had asked him to be. “It’s been my greatest honor.”