Kurt slid off the arm of the couch onto the seat and fell back, legs splayed and arms thrown over his head. His head pounded, the sound of silence thrumming through his whole body. He was uncharacteristically graceless, pieces of him having been splintered off since he heard that tone.

That life-ending, life-changing tone.

“Okay, so now what?”

The last of the guests had just left, an unscheduled influx of friends and neighbors scrambling over to Burt’s home with offerings of casseroles and salads, sympathies and stories, doing anything to show that Kurt and Carole weren’t alone. In reality, and in spite of everyone's best intentions, being alone is all Kurt and Carole really wanted. It felt like days had passed when it had only been hours.

Blaine knelt down next to Kurt, brushing back loose hair from his brow. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.” Blaine sat back on his haunches and nodded, understanding but admittedly a little sad. “Can you come with me?” Kurt smiled sleepily at Blaine and then reality hit. “Adrian. Shit.”

“Sharon’s half an hour out.”

“What?”

“I snuck out while Puck and Sam were here. She’s on her way down to take over. She’ll stay at my place and if we want Ade, we get him. If not, she’s got it covered. All I have to worry about is work and you.”

“You’re amazing.” Kurt pulled Blaine in for a kiss. “I could use one of his hugs right now though.”

“Then let’s go pick him up from the neighbor’s.”

“Does he know?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what he’s grasping because it was over the phone and I interrupted a very serious game of Sorry.”

“Was he winning?”

“Doesn’t he always?”

Blaine grasped Kurt’s hand and pulled him up, waiting for him to say his goodbyes to Carole and Finn, making sure everyone was cared for, going to be okay, do you want me to stay over? He remained quiet on the ride to his house when Kurt was, and tried to keep up with Kurt’s mind, firing on all cylinders as he ignored his grief by going through the steps of the upcoming days. Funeral arrangements, the writing of the obituary, calling work, calling Dot, calling his out of town friends – or maybe just Rachel and letting her to the phone tag – ugh, what if someone gets missed??, going through pictures and videos since the funeral homes seem to want a freaking Life and Times production anymore.

Who do I call…who does the dinner after the funeral? Where are we going to have it?

Dad and Mom went to church when I was little. Do we still get a ticket in for a funeral? Do I even want a stupid church? Do I call church ladies to make the meal? I don’t know how this all works.

And finally, “I just want to take a bath. Drink a glass of wine.”

“Kurt. One step at a time.” Blaine turned into his driveway and took Kurt’s hand, desperately trying to gather his thoughts in the dark, bringing him in focus. As usual, gentle kisses to his knuckles slowly pulled him in, his exhausted eyes brightening when they landed in Blaine’s. “There you are.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Stop apologizing. Stop thinking." Blaine pressed a kiss to the soft of Kurt's cheek. "Right now, you’re going to go inside and wait for me to bring Ade home. And then you’re going to soak up all of his goodness because he heals. His own mother was dead and yet, he healed me.” Blaine mulled that oddity over, always worrying that he put too much pressure on the child even though it seemed to fit right into how Adrian needed it to play. “I think it’s youth.”

“And her. Inside of him.”

Blaine stopped and smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek at the memory of his conversation with Burt.

“Yes. Like another little boy who lost his mom."

"Dad's going to have to find somewhere else to rest. I don't have room for his ornery."

"Oh, I don’t believe that for the world." Blaine kissed the tip of Kurt's nose and continued with their plan. "So, after you snuggle on Ade, Nana’s going to show up and we’re going to let her take over. I’m going to drive you home and draw you a bath and bring you a glass of wine and you’re going to stay in there until you prune if you want. And until your glass is empty and the water’s cold, you’re not going to make any other decisions. Okay?”

As Blaine spoke, Kurt’s breath became ragged, his eyes filling yet again as he imagined all of the lovely things Blaine was describing. One thought, however, remained louder than all the others. “My daddy’s gone, Blaine.”

“I know, Sweetheart. And I’m so, so terribly sorry.”

One tear fell on their tangled hands and Blaine leaned in to kiss the streak it left on Kurt’s cheek. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

“I want Adrian.”

“I know. Just a few more minutes…”

***

By the time Blaine and Adrian returned, Kurt had fixed himself some tea and was curled up under a throw on the couch, reality show reruns keeping the room from utter silence.

Either Adrian had been coached or he really was an angel because he entered without a word, simply toeing off his shoes and carefully climbing up onto the couch, waiting for Kurt to put down his tea, pull back the blanket, and wrap his arms around him. They wiggled until cozy, Adrian’s head, cool from the autumn air and perfectly nuzzled in the crook of Kurt’s neck, their breathing matching as Adrian swirled his fingers in little circles on Kurt’s arms, just shy of being ticklish.

“You smell like fall.”

Adrian sat up, straddling Kurt’s middle, tracing the buttons on his shirt. “What’s fall smell like?”

“Little boys. Burning leaves. Apple Cider.” Kurt mimicked Adrian’s tracing, outlining the stripes in his sweater instead. “Wool sweaters.”

Adrian was quiet until he finished tracing the final button, finally looking up into Kurt’s eyes with a smile so grown up, it betrayed his age. “Your eyes are sad, Kurt.”

“I’m sad all over, buddy.”

Adrian nodded and started outlining Kurt’s shirt pocket. “I don’t know what words to use.”

“That’s okay. Words aren’t important right now.”

“Are hugs important?”

“The most important.”

“I do those good.” He fell on top of Kurt again, snuggling in and launching into a story about his day, his voice a melodious salve to Kurt's heart. He talked about the city he and his school friend built out of blocks and had inhabited with dinosaurs. And about how the teacher wanted to use the sandbox underneath their “street” and they had to tear it all down. And about how one of the girls in class laughed at him when he got angry about it. And the best part of all, how the teacher made her help the boys put the blocks away because she was a big ole meanie head. “And Kurt, we had a LOT of blocks!”

“I bet you did. You always build the biggest cities.”

“I do. ‘Specially with Isaiah. And then we…oh my goodness.” He sat up and whipped his sweater off, leaving himself in only an undershirt and burnt orange corduroys. He flopped himself back down on Kurt’s chest and kept right on going with his story, never missing a beat, even when Kurt’s entire body shook with laughter.

“Hot?”

“Yes. And itchy. And hot. And…can we take the blanket off?” He sat up, tossing it aside before Kurt could answer, deciding to stay up so he could use his hands to tell the story because everyone knows, hands make the story.

Just as he launched into his 23rd And then, Nana arrived, taking one look at a barely clad Adrian on Kurt’s lap and shook her head. “I know with this kid, it’s best not to ask.”

“A wise choice.” Kurt popped Adrian on the bottom and sat up from his awkward reclining position. “Buddy, go get dressed for bed before you start griping about being cold.”

“But, I’m not done with my story!”

“You’re never done with your story. Put some clothes on, you streaker.”

And he did while Sharon joined Kurt on the couch scooping up his socked feet with an intimacy they shouldn’t have for how little they knew each other, but yet, it was as natural as if she had been Carole. “How are you doing, Sweetie? I'm…so horribly sorry.”

Kurt shrugged. “Thank you. And numb.”

“That’s how you get through the first few days when people are everywhere. Otherwise, you’d probably take a few of them out.”

“I can see how that could happen. I feel like I’ve lived a week in a day.”

“That's because you have.” She rubbed his feet for a few minutes as they sat in silence, shared grief a year apart, an emotion time couldn't alter. When Blaine came in from gathering his belongings, she pushed his feet off the couch with a tender pat. “Now, go home, let Blaine take care of you and call me if you need anything.”

“You’re already doing more than enough.”

“Someone did it for me. It’s my turn now.”

***

“Kurt! Wait! You can’t leave yet!” Adrian jumped down the last three stairs to the landing and skipped down the final two stairs with a pounce and a somersault. And then he ignored his father’s stern Adrian James!, launching himself around Kurt’s legs. Kurt stumbled, still trying to slide his shoes on, scooping Adrian up by his ankles, hanging him upside down.

“Why can’t I leave yet?”

“Because. We have some…" He wiggled and squirmed and gave up, hanging upside down, nightshirt almost inside out and cartoon undies and bare belly shining for the world to see. "…some business to take care of.”

Kurt looked to Blaine and Sharon for some insight and they had none. “Business? I think you’re just dilly dallying to avoid going to bed.”

Adrian finally wriggled out of Kurt’s grasp, crawling down his body onto the floor and standing up with an irritated huff as he twisted his nightshirt back into place. “Yes. Business. We need a blanket.” He grabbed at the previously tossed throw and then at Kurt’s hand escorting him out to the back patio where, it seemed, all of the serious discussions happened in this home. Kurt had to worry about how this would work in January.

But, for now, it was a comfortably cool fall evening. He settled onto the chaise and Adrian curled up with him as they’d done not only their first night together but numerous nights since.

Blaine peeked out and Adrian grinned. “You can come too, Daddy.”

“Okay…I didn’t know if this was private business or…”

“Well, it is. But.” He pointed at the lounge, explaining the rules. “You have to be quiet though. And…you can’t stare at Kurt like you always do. We’re looking at the sky.”

And then Kurt knew. And he bit his lip, willing the tears back because while he believed his own advice to Blaine about grieving in front of Adrian, this seemed…somehow different. Adrian wasn’t grieving. He was soothing.

“Kurt? Do you have our picture memorized? In your pretty words?”

“I do. You make me say it every time I put you to bed.”

“I know; it’s like music.”

Kurt took his cue and, reaching across the chairs for Blaine’s hand, began. Quand tu regarderas le ciel, la nuit, puisque j'habiterai dans l'une d'elles, puisque je rirai dans l'une d'elles, alors ce sera pour toi comme si riaient toutes les étoiles.

“Les étoiles. The stars. What part means sky?”

“Le ciel. And night is-…”

“La nuit.”

“Right. Good memory. Now, remind me, which one is your mommy’s?” Sure, the stars had shifted with the seasons, but Adrian didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t the point. It wasn’t the point at all.

“It’s back this way…there, see? And your mommy’s is right there.”

“Yes, it is. And what do you think? See that one above them? Not quite as bright yet?”

“Is that your daddy’s?”

“I think so.”

“I think so, too. So, now they’re all friends. Laughing friends.”

Kurt took a deep breath and nuzzled his nose into Adrian’s loose curls, trying to find footing in his swirling emotions, his tears softly dampening Adrian's hair. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told you before?”

“Yes.”

“Sit up. I want to see you.”

Adrian did and Kurt fitted the blanket around his little shoulders, smiling at Blaine’s eyes staring back at him from the face of this wise, lovely child. He clasped Adrian’s hands in his and tugged him close so their foreheads touched. “Je t'aime, Adrian.”

“Je t'aime. What does that mean?”

“It means I love you.”

“Oh. My goodness. I love you too, Kurt. And I love your pretty words.”

They snuggled in to look at the stars for a few more moments, until Kurt popped out of his reverie and insisted that it was time for Adrian to get inside and go to bed. He left the patio without argument, leaving Blaine and Kurt in the quiet night.

Blaine stood and pulled Kurt up with him, caressing his cheek with the back of his fingers, soft touch on soft skin. “I knew it then, but I believe it now…”

“…what’s that?”

“Your dad was right.”

“About?”

Blaine shook his head and leaned in for a kiss, soft and tender as his touch. “He just was.”

***

It was the third evening of gloriously prepared bubble baths, complete with wine, fresh fluffy towels and mutual massages, when Kurt was able to see glimmers of life outside of his grief. The memorial service and internment were planned, meals arrived at Carole’s house faster than any army could eat them and through it all, Blaine was there, listening, holding his hand, being a sounding board. Especially when Finn did things like decide that The Ohio State University Fight Song would be an appropriate benedictory number for the ceremony.

“But your mom liked the Buckeyes, too! I don’t see how it’s so completely offensive, Kurt.”

“They also both loved Def Leppard, but we’re not having Pour Some Sugar on Me as the final song celebrating my father’s life.”

“That could actually be sort of-…”

“Blaine. If you’re not here to help…” Blaine raised his hands in submission, but his wink to Finn didn’t go unnoticed. “Okay, fine. We can play all the OSU music and the 80’s hair band crap at the gathering afterwards. Hell, let’s put a little stage up and everyone can freaking air band it if they want. Everyone can march around and do Script Ohio to Le Régiment if they’re so inclined. Dad would…actually…love that.”

“SWEET!”

“Neanderthal.”

“I am not un-evolved because I like sports and classic rock.”

“Maybe not, but your evolutionary progress has always given me pause.”

So, by this third night, even though the funeral was the next day, Kurt was feeling a little lighter. A little more capable of steering his way through a decision.

A little less self-involved.

“Did we take that cheese plate the Edelstein’s brought over?”

“We did.” Blaine turned the water off and went to fetch it when Kurt grabbed his arm to stop him. “No. I’ve got it. You enjoy the bath alone for a few minutes.”

“But your wine…”

“I’ll get it. Get naked. Get in. I think I’ve reached my limit of being pampered.”

When Kurt returned with the cheese plate, wine, and some sliced pears, Blaine was comfortably submerged in the bubbles, head thrown back, eyes closed, the occasional toe popping up through the suds for a wiggle. If Kurt’s decision making skills really had come back, they left all over again because he couldn’t decide if the man in the tub was nauseatingly adorable or heart-breakingly hot.

He settled on I’m such a fucking lucky bastard; that man is mine and stripped down, sinking into the opposite side of the garden tub with a satisfied moan. “However, I don’t think I’ll ever reach my limit of bubble baths.”

“I never was much of a bath person until I met you.”

“No?”

“No. Clearly, I have been missing out.”

“Clearly.” They rested in silence, sharing some cheese, sipping their wine, cricketing their legs together under the water, contentedly losing track of time. And then, “How are you holding up?”

Blaine finally lifted his head to look at Kurt. “Me? This time isn’t about me.”

“Yes. You. If memory serves, it was only five days ago we had a 6 hour picnic to honor the anniversary of Maggie’s death. This can’t be easy for you to sit and watch.”

“Just to clarify, it was only 6 hours long because we got poured on by Mother Nature and someone insisted we continue the picnic indoors with games and Pixar movies that Adrian had never seen.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Blaine’s teasing smile softened into easy peacefulness. “It was one of my most favorite days since New York.”

“So, you’re deflecting. How are you holding up?”

“C’mere.” Blaine waved Kurt towards him to casually wrap his arms and legs around him, soaking in the concern in Kurt's eyes. “I love you.”

“Deflecting.”

Blaine closed his eyes and focused, hearing Burt’s plea to him only 3 days before. When he shines? When he blooms? Is when he’s allowed to take care of other people. “I’m kind of nervous about tomorrow.”

“You know, if you need a moment…or longer…I want you to take it. I’ll be fine. I have my family and friends there.”

“I want to be there for you.”

“And I want you there more than anyone else. But, when I really need you? It’s now. Times like this. When everyone goes home. When the casseroles stop showing up. When the funeral flowers all die. When I hear, Oh, that’s right. Your dad died, didn’t he? and I realize the world has moved on without him.”

“That is the worst. I remember looking around a fire scene about a week after Maggie died. The crew was doing their job. The family was appropriately devastated. The C-DRT team was giving aid. Everything was functioning properly and I was standing there with this gaping wound and no one noticed. I couldn’t figure out how it was so invisible to them. How I was so invisible.”

“Right. That’s when I’ll need you. But tomorrow – you handle the day how you need to handle it.”

“I made it through the Eastwood funeral okay.”

“Yeah, because you were Mr. Fire Chief Man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear your job so boldly.”

“Was I an ass?”

Kurt twisted a finger in a curl at Blaine’s temple and smiled. “Impersonal. Distant. Like you were after their fire.”

“I don’t want to be that way tomorrow.”

“You won’t be. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, too.”

Blaine nodded, his hands smoothing up and down Kurt’s back. “I promise.”

Kurt pulled himself closer, his eyes darkening, his smile twisting into a smirk. “And let me take care of you now.”

Blaine cocked an eyebrow and bit at the corner of his lip. “And how do you propose to do that?”

With one more scoot closer and a roll of his hips, Kurt leaned in, the bubbles shifting and popping between them, and traced Blaine’s bottom lip with his tongue. “Sit up on the edge. Let me show you.”

Blaine faked insult. “But…but, I’ll get cold.”

“Not for long.”