“Alright, does this pass the test now? I think you tailored this thing within an inch of its life.” Blaine stepped into the floor length mirror’s reflection, moving and cajoling his shoulders into the jacket just…right.

“Yes. It’s perfect. Doesn’t it feel great to have a suit fit like that?”

“Yeah, it really does. You’re going to spoil me.” He wiggled his bow tie one more time and adjusted his pocket square. “Is the shirt too casual?”

“My dad wore flannel shirts and trucker hats. You’re over dressed. I’m ridiculous.”

“You look stunning.”

Kurt stepped back from the mirror and smoothed his hand down the length of his jacket. “It’s too much.”

“Stop. Why did you choose that suit?”

“Because…it’s a little over the top and Dad gave so much for me to be able to express myself this way, so...” He fingered at the top buckle on the jacket and turned from their reflection to face the real breathing, soothing Blaine.

“Then it’s perfect.”

Kurt swallowed thickly and straightened Blaine's bow tie again. “I guess I can’t put this off anymore, huh?”

“Nope.” They left Blaine’s bedroom hand in hand, Kurt’s racing heart easing when he heard the familiar, now comforting sounds of Adrian at play, telling his Nana a tale and a half.

“Kurt! Oh! Oh my goodness. You guys look so handsome!”

“You say that like we’re not always handsome!” Blaine scooped his son up and smacked a wet kiss on his forehead as he slung him on his hip.

“Well. Yes. Of course, but. You look ‘specially handsome now.” Adrian picked at the pocket square in Blaine’s jacket. “Why aren’t you in your uniform, Daddy? You always wear your uniform when it’s dress up time.”

“Because I’m not the fire chief today. I'm just Blaine.”

Adrian wiggled down from his dad’s grasp and whispered something to his Nana who gave him an approving nod. “Don’t leave yet. I have to give you…wait…loan?” He looked back at Sharon who nodded again. “Yes. Loan. I have to loan you something.”

He darted off to his room and before anyone could ask questions, he was back, hiding something, not so conspicuously, behind his back. “For the, um…service. Because…she helps me be brave. And I guess you have to be brave today.”

Kurt squatted down to Adrian’s eye level as Adrian pulled Lizzie Monster out from behind his back. “Just a loan, which means you’ll give it back, but." Adrian flipped a spike on Lizzie's head and offered a brave smile. "I’m really sad about your dad, Kurt. He was very funny.”

Kurt took Lizzie and held her close, then pulled Adrian in, holding him closer. “Thank you, buddy. I’ll take good care of her.”

“Well. She’s s’pposed to take care of you.”

With a sweep of exchanged kisses, they left for the funeral home, hoping to and succeeding in beating everyone there. Kurt grabbed Lizzie and steeled himself before walking in, not particularly in the mood for the staged solemn faces of the funeral directors. No matter how much he tried, they spooked him at every turn. Post traumatic reaction from his mom’s funeral, maybe, but they were macabre and morbid as far as he was concerned. Never comforting.

“You okay?”

“No. You?”

“I’m okay…you’re really going to take her in?”

Kurt absently looked down at the green monster with four arms and a spike-toothed heart on its belly and grinned, his lips thin and tense. “Yes.” He looked up at the door and sighed. “I need Mom right now. This is as close as it’s going to get.”

Blaine took his hand and led him in and without any excess creepiness, they were taken to Burt’s room where the service would be held. Kurt paused at the back of it, stunned at the volume of flower arrangements that encircled the front. At the center of the…could it be hundreds?...of planters and arrangements, sat a podium and a small table with his father’s picture and one of his favorite trucker hats sitting atop of it.

He must have fallen woozy because before Kurt realized it, he was seated and being offered a bottle of water. Blaine knelt beside Kurt and waved one of the funeral directors away, running Lizzie’s soft spikes across his wrist to hopefully snap him back into focus. Kurt took her and leaned his head on Blaine’s shoulder with a comforted moan. “She was waiting for him, wasn’t she? In Adrian’s dream.”

“Probably.”

“And he said she was happy.”

“He did.”

Kurt let his tears fall, looking up front through blurred, tear-stained vision at the flowers…at the love surrounding him, his dad, Carole. “Do you think they’d like Maggie?”

“I know they would. Personally, I’m surprised God hadn’t kicked Maggie and your mom out already. Something tells me they're a dangerous pair.”

Kurt chuckled and took a drink, the water feeling thick in his mouth. The air was thick. His grief was thick. Everything weighed too much. “Too much ornery even for God…damn. With Dad there, He doesn’t stand a chance.”

Their chuckles silenced until Blaine asked a question all humanity asks at one time or other. “Do you believe in God, Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head solemnly. “Only when it’s convenient…apparently. You?”

“Same. The God I learned about isn’t too fond of guys like us.”

“I don’t think He’s the problem – I think it’s His followers…if he even exists at all.”

“Putting all of your faith in a fairytale seems to make it hard to grasp reality.”

“I’m so glad you’re my reality.”

“Me too. You ready for this?”

“Nope. But, it’s time." He took Blaine's offered hand and stood, steeling himself for the hours ahead. "They have each other again – he’ll be okay.”

***

When Kurt was eight years old and came home from his mother’s funeral, an aunt of hers, a woman he barely knew and had since passed, rambled on and on about how glorious the day had been. How lovely it was to have seen so many people there. To catch up. To reconnect.

“I never expected to feel so full. Don’t you feel full, Burt?”

When his dad actually agreed, Kurt made haste to his room because at age eight, well. He didn’t feel full at all. He felt more empty than he ever had before. He felt so empty that he didn’t even know the word for it. It hurt, the emptiness. Ached like the time Jason Waters had aimed a kick ball right at Kurt’s chest in gym class. And landed it. The force of the impact flattened him on the wooden floor, earned him a visit to the nurse’s station and blessed him with a grapefruit-sized bruise that lasted for two weeks, turning colors he never knew skin could turn.

Full was not an emotion he could comprehend.

But now, Kurt was 29 years old. And it had been a week since he put his father to rest. A week since he had seen some of his high school friends that he hadn’t seen since graduation – or since Santana’s epic summer goodbye party anyway. The expected were there – Sam and Puck, since they were local, Rachel snuck out of her Broadway tour for a few days, and Santana came in from New York, their friendship one of we live in the same city, why do we wait a year to see each other? but always a treasured one. The surprise attendees meant the most – Mercedes flew in from California, Mike and Tina arranged sitters and came in from Chicago, and the best surprise of all, his ex, Bryce, who also brought his delightful fiancé. Those that couldn’t come, like Artie & Quinn, sent flowers and condolences.

And then there were the few co-workers from Jacobs who made the trip, including Mitchell. Friends from his childhood, C-DRT members including Dot, of course, some of the Lima City Firemen, regulars he’d come to know over the years at his dad’s shop, friends and family on Carole’s side he never knew, but was so grateful they were there for her and Finn, all came and supported, cried and reminisced. And once the funeral was over, they simply enjoyed each other's company, reminiscing, laughing, crying...loving.

Kurt felt beautifully surrounded.

As cheekily suggested, they played air guitar to classic 80’s rock, the highlight of which was a fabulous rendition of Walk This Way – the original thank you very much – featuring Finn on air drum, Mitchell on air bass, Bryce on air guitar and Blaine on lead - singing over the track because you can’t just lip sync Aerosmith, Kurt. Kurt wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed so hard in all of his life.

“Gay Aerosmith. I’ve seen it all.” Kurt decided Puck was only jealous he hadn't grabbed the lead guitar position in time.

Yes, full. He felt full in a way that lasted for days, an unexpected lift to the suffocating sorrow that preceded it. Life was beginning to settle back into place.

The thing was, settling back meant moving forward. And moving forward meant in short order, full was beginning to melt into anxiety.

He was packed for his monthly trip to New York where he would have a meeting that would determine how much longer he’d be allowed to stay in Ohio. As much as he'd tried to ignore the reality for the past four months, his job was in New York City – and now that Burt was gone, it was time to go back.

Only now, unlike when the arrangement was made, everything was complicated.

Before leaving for the Dayton airport, Kurt made a stop into the fire station to see Blaine and maybe steal one more kiss before he had to go.

“Damn, Hummel. Lucky you’re in a fire department because baby, you’re smokin’!”

“Really, Parker? Does your wife know your Kinsey scale might be hovering higher than zero?”

“Dude. Don’t even joke, man.”

“Then stop looking at my ass. Is Blaine in?”

“Up in his office…Hottie.”

Kurt flipped the Lieutenant off and jogged upstairs, smiling to himself because the man was right. He looked good. He always did when he flew. It was simply a matter of principle.

Kurt knocked and opened the door before Blaine answered, peeking in with a goofy grin.

“Don’t you look amazing?”

“Don’t I?” Kurt looked down at his ensemble and adjusted his lapel pin as he sat. “I love cold weather clothes.”

“I miss seeing your skin.”

“You get to see my skin whenever you want, Chief.”

“Mmm…that I do. Coffee?”

“Please.”

The small talk continued as Blaine poured him a cup adding the exact amount of sugar to Kurt’s liking, sitting next to him in the chair opposite his desk. They drank quietly, knocking feet dangling between their crossed legs, avoiding the huge smelly elephant in the room. Until Kurt couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“This is the first time since I started this commute that I don’t want to go.”

Blaine, apparently, wasn’t done with the silence yet. He simply nodded and sipped more of his coffee.

“Blaine, we promised we’d always talk to each other if we were unhappy. You’ve been distant and you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not unha-.” Blaine stopped himself and regrouped, putting his mug on his desk. “I’m angry.”

That was not the reaction Kurt was expecting at all. “At?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. Which is why I haven’t said anything.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking because I do not want to get on that plane if you’re angry.”

“You may have to.”

“Blaine…”

Kurt put his mug on the desk to join Blaine’s and reached out a hand to him. Only this time, for the first time ever, Blaine wouldn’t take it.

“Have I been naïve, Kurt?”

“About?”

“You going back…don’t act like you don’t know what's going on here.”

“I do know.” Kurt huffed a sigh of sadness. Of exhaustion. Of fear and worry. “And…I think we’ve both been naïve.” Blaine nodded, matching the sole of his shoe up with the sole of Kurt’s, reaching out if only a little. “Blaine, I honestly thought Dad would be around for years and by that point, the what's next would just naturally work itself out.”

“And you really thought Jacobs would let you stay in Ohio that long?”

“With fluctuating steadiness, but yes?”

The look Blaine gave Kurt was indefinable, but if Kurt had to, he’d have gone with judgmental. It was unpleasant. So, Kurt pointed to himself and shrugged. “Naïve?”

Blaine’s sigh relaxed his shoulders, easing the tension another hair. “And I thought that when you said yes in August – that it meant you’d stay in Ohio.”

“Blaine, I never even mentioned that. I never even implied it. Not once.”

Blaine pointed to himself and shrugged. “Naïve.”

Kurt smiled faintly and tried again for Blaine’s hand. This time, he got it. “Blaine, I have to go back.”

Blaine’s bottom lip actually quivered and Kurt figured if he went ahead and threw himself off of the roof of the building, it was a fire station – someone would catch him. Unless the chief forbade it in which case he might be in trouble.

“I was hoping we’d be enough to keep you here.”

“Blaine, that's not even fair."

"I'm not always fair when I'm angry. And confused."

"They won’t let me stay. Hell, even if I left Jacobs, there’s not a big enough design company in Ohio. Even Wexner’s team is in New York now.”

“Are they going to insist you go back? Now? Even separate from us, Carole still needs you here for a while anyway.”

“This is why I don’t want to go. I’m hoping they’ll at least give me through the end of the year, but the truth is, they don’t have to do anything. They could insist that this trip is my last.”

“Do you have a voice with them?”

“I think so. I’ve put out great work all year, I manage my team well even long distance, I keep the ball in the air. That should give me some leverage.”

Blaine took his coffee back and drank, sinking back into his own thoughts. “I just don’t know if I can do long distance, Kurt.”

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here I am trying to figure out how to not have a life without you in it and you're already kissing it goodbye? Because you don't want to work at it?”

"No. That's not…no. I just don't see how. I don't see…I really didn't think you'd go back. I really didn't think at all."

They stared at each other, trying to speak without words, until the room became thick with an impenetrable impasse.

Blaine finally broke, getting up to rinse out his mug. “Well, no decisions can be made until we know what we’re dealing with, so I gue-.”

County Dispatch to Lima City Fire. Lima City Fire. We have a residential structure fire at 423 Bexter St. Repeat, residential structure fire at 423 Bexter St. Call time 10:42.

They shared sad smiles and Blaine grabbed his keys from his desk, stopping to brush his knuckles down Kurt’s cheek before he left. “I know this. I love you. That never wavers.”

Kurt kissed his knuckles and leaned in to softly kiss his lips. “I love you. Now, go be a hero.”

Blaine headed into the hall to run downstairs to suit up, calling back before hitting the first step. “Let me know when you get in.”

Kurt stepped out to the bridge, and Blaine was gone, lost in the flurry of activity on the garage floor, men and their token woman, suiting up for whatever awaited them. They slipped into boots prepared with turnout trousers draped around them, hiked up suspenders, grabbed jackets and helmets and jumped into their assigned vehicles, sirens blaring – all within the blink of an eye.

He caught Blaine’s eye in the cab of Engine 1 and blew him a kiss, grinning when Blaine caught it outside of his open window before the vehicles started backing out of the garage.

His life simply would not work without Blaine in it. Without their quiet love, their chaotic life, their magnetic need. Somewhere, a solution awaited. It had to.

***

Kurt [11-03-23 11:38]: Four months.

Blaine [11-03-23 11:52]: This isn’t a pun set-up, is it?

Kurt [11-03-23 11:54]: Fine. What do gay termites eat?

Blaine [11-03-23 11:56]: If they’re smart, they’ll eat a fully balanced diet with wood…wait. Wood’s in the answer, isn’t it?

Kurt [11-03-23 11:59]: Yes. Wood peckers. You’re deflecting.

Blaine [11-03-23 12:00]: That doesn’t even make sense. Does that mean they eat each other? Sexually or cannibalistically? And, puns get priority via text. You know the rules, Kurt. So? Not deflecting.

Kurt [11-03-23 12:02]: Well, if they’re gay, all they think about is sex and since they’re such awful creatures I’m sure they’re also cannibals. You know how The Gays are, Blaine.

Blaine [11-03-23 12:04]: Who knew the insect world was filled with such hatred? They just want to eat wood. Can’t they be who they are?

Kurt [11-03-23 12:07]: Do I need to call you? You sound like you’re having a meltdown.

Kurt [11-03-23 12:08]: Allow me to start over. Four months.

Blaine [11-03-23 12:09]: I just am concerned for these poor gay termites. I mean, I don’t see how their dietary needs change just because they are gay.

Blaine [11-03-23 12:10]: What does four months mean, exactly?

Kurt [11-03-23 12:12]: It means that on March 4, 2024 I need to be in New York City full time or have another job.

Blaine [11-03-23 12:14]: It was worded as an ultimatum? Kurt…

Kurt [11-03-23 12:16]: No, bad wording. I’m sorry. They were wonderful. And really, four months is two more than I expected.

Blaine [11-03-23 12:18]: But, we have the holidays.

Kurt [11-03-23 12:21]: Yes. And plenty of time beyond.

Blaine [11-03-23 12:25]: Can I call you?

Kurt [11-03-23 12:26]: Can I fake having the stomach flu so you’ll fly out and hold me?

Blaine [11-03-23 12:28]: You’ll be home tomorrow.

Kurt stared at the last text and dialed. “Home shouldn’t be such a complicated concept.”

“No. It shouldn’t be.”

“I’m home with you.”

“You’re home in New York.”

“I can’t do this over the phone.”

“So, tell me about the rest of your trip and we’ll do this tomorrow. Has your weather been as shitty as ours?”

“Shittier. I don’t want to talk about the weather. I went to lunch with Mitchell yesterday. It was like it was when we first met.”

“Aerosmith will do that to a friendship.”

“I don’t want to talk about Mitchell either. I probably shouldn’t have called.”

“What do you need from me, Kurt?”

“Answers. Promises. Time travel. Love…I need you to love me. I need to love you. Today. In four months.”

“We’ve got the love covered.”

“In four months?”

Blaine huffed softly and fell silent. And Kurt waited. Until he couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t have called.”

He disconnected his phone and shoved it in his pocket, heading into his next meeting. Thirty minutes ago, four months felt like an eternity. A gift. Now? It felt like it was a ticking time bomb. A curse just waiting to be executed.