Thank you all for the lovely comments! I'm so pleased that you all like the story ^_^ I predict that there is going to be about ten chapters to this fic, so there's still a good bit coming to you!

I would just like to quickly state that I know next to nothing about boats, so I apologize if my inept fumbling is obvious in this chapter. Any advice is welcome :)

Anyways, on to chapter six! Enjoy!

Kurt was regretting his offer to go fishing. They were up before the first rosy fingers of dawn had come over the horizon and he groaned in displeasure. He had forgotten his father was a lunatic and liked to be on the water by the time the sun rose.

He pulled on a pair of jean cutoffs and the oldest, grungiest shirt he could find. No matter what anyone said, clothes just weren't the same after they had been exposed to bait and fish guts and all manner of disgusting things.

He laced his shoes tightly and jammed a hat on his head—his Gilligan hat, as his dad called it—and stumbled downstairs. Blaine and his father was already at the table, the curly haired boy having come to wake him.

He threw himself into a chair and glared at his father but Burt was immune to Kurt's hostile stare, merely chuckling. He was well familiar with Kurt's distaste fro being awake this early, especially for something he didn't like.

"This better be amazing fish," he growled, conveniently forgetting that he was the one that had suggested this little adventure. "Where's Finn?"

They all heard the silent "Why isn't he suffering too?" that Kurt wisely left unsaid.

"His mom his prying him out of bed," Burt explained.

Sure enough, the lanky teen lumbered into the room a moment later, Carole following behind him with a smirk on her face. "You boys hungry?" she asked unnecessarily. Kurt was pretty sure she was looking to having the house to herself for the morning.

They all nodded and she bustled over to the stove, more awake than she had any right to be. Normally, Kurt would jump up to help her, but that rule only applied when he woke after the sun. Instead, he just concentrated on keeping his eyes open and not trying to kill everyone with the power of his mind.

"I already went ahead and got the bait," his father said, and Kurt shivered.

Kurt hated bait. He knew that it was kind of a necessary component to this whole fishing thing, but it was always so unappealing. Tiny fish, frozen squid that was definitely not fit for human consumption, shrimp that always snapped in his hand and scared him, and worms.

The fact that his father had gotten the bait at such an early hour probably meant that they were going to be using something frozen and the creepy crawly things. Since it had rained last night, the Grange was probably teeming with them.

Well, at least the chickens would be happy.

Kurt started when Carole placed a plate in front of him. He regained his composure and smiled at her thankfully, pouring himself a cup of coffee before digging in heartily. He ate quickly but politely (unlike someone at the table) and brought his plate to the sink.

"I'm going to check on the chickens before we go," he explained, pulling his shoes off in the screened off room next to the kitchen. He pulled on a pair of rain boots as Blaine came over.

"Want some company?"

Kurt nodded and pointed to a spare pair of boots. "Pull those on; you're going to need them."

He waited as Blaine pulled on the thick boots and felt a warm hum fill his chest. Being around the other boy was both calming and electrifying. He was always worried he was going to say something to give his feelings away, but he loved being in his presence.

The shorter teen righted himself and smiled in readiness. Kurt returned the sentiment and led the way to the coop.

Due to the frequent rain they got at the Grange, the coop was built on stilts, keeping it well above the water level. It was a sturdy little coop, and the chickens should have been kept dry despite the downpour.

Still, regardless of their precautions, sometimes one of the older hens or a curious chick would get stuck out in the rain and drown. It never failed to upset him, but he knew that it was just one of the sad facts of life.

He felt his heart pound in anxiety as he neared the coop, eyes searching for any sign of a prone body on the ground. They reached the wire and wood fence and Kurt wrapped his hands around the top wire, craning his neck to see.

He opened the latch and held the gate open for Blaine, the two of them carefully picking their way through the mud. They went separate directions, and as far as Kurt could see, there were no fallen fowls in his sight. Behind him, he heard a Blaine cluck his tongue regretfully.

Oh no, Kurt thought. He felt his eyes prick with tears and he tried to repress his forlorn sniffling. He picked his way over to where the other boy was staring and came to stand alongside him.

At their feet lay a rock black chicken. Kurt realized that he was sniffling alarmingly and he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands. Blaine's arm wrapped round his waist and pulled him close. "I'm sorry, Kurt," he murmured.

Kurt just sniffled and buried his head in the other boy's broad shoulder. "Poor Beatrice," he mourned.

"You, uh, recognize this chicken?" Blaine asked, trying to be delicate about it.

Kurt nodded into his shoulder. "Yeah. Chickens live about eight to ten years; she was one of the chickens I got on my birthday that first year," he explained.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. His other arm came around Kurt and stroked down his back soothingly. He pressed a kiss to the other boy's temple and rested his cheek against his fair head. "Do you still want to go fishing?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. I know it's silly to get upset about a chicken, but maybe how much I hate fishing will take my mind off it."

"It's not silly," Blaine defended gently, pressing another kiss to his forehead. "She was your pet; you loved her."

The pale boy nodded and glanced at her one more time. He took and deep breath and pulled back, mad at himself that he was so upset he couldn't properly enjoy that fact that Blaine had kissed him twice in the span of five minutes.

"Um," Blaine began hesitantly. "Should we…do something with her?"

Kurt shook his head. "Cole will come along later and collect her. He'll bury her on the far side of the property."

"Bury her?"

Kurt nodded, eyes still on her prone, black form. "Yeah, um, with all the others."

Blaine looked at him, eyes raised and slightly apprehensive. "Kurt, do you have some kind of chicken cemetery around here?"

Kurt laughed despite himself. "I guess. We don't eat them, I just can't stand the thought of it, so we, you know, bury them and the other animals. Didn't you ever bury a family pet in the back yard?"

"One," Blaine admitted, still looking alarmed. "But it was a hamster. Do you have a lot of things back there?"

"My dad's dog, and two cats," he admitted before something clicked. "Blaine Anderson, are you afraid of cemeteries?"

"No!" Blaine defended. "Just pet cemeteries. Did you ever read that book, the one by Stephen King? If you did, you'd be scared too.

"But you have a pet buried in the back yard!"

"And it haunts me to this day," he intoned seriously.

Kurt laughed incredulously, running a hand through his hair. He glanced back at Beatrice and frowned. "I know I said Cole comes by and he'd take care of her, but I don't want to leave her on the ground. Will you…pick her up?" he asked hesitantly. "You can use the shovel or something, I just don't want to leave her there."

Blaine softened and nodded, making his way over to the small shovel leaning against the coop. Inside he could hear the soft clucking of the birds waking up for the day and he peeked inside, seeing them all lined up in their nests, warm and dry, now able to hear the soft peep of a chick or two.

He took up the shovel and gently scooped up the deceased chicken, looking to Kurt for further instruction. "Just put her on the worktable over there; Cole will see her."

Blaine nodded and gingerly deposited her on the wooden table, returning the shovel to its place by the coop. A sudden thought occurred to him. "There are babies in there, right?" he asked, pointing o the coop.

Kurt nodded and slipped out of the gate, Blaine behind him. "Yeah, a few."

"How did they get there? I thought you only had girl chickens?"

The slender teen laughed. "Yeah,um, there are a few roosters that got out from the surrounding farms. One or two have taken up residence on our property." He shrugged. "Life finds a way."

"Did you just quote Jurassic Park?" Blaine said in disbelief.

"Birds, dinosaurs; close enough."

The olive skinned teen laughed and continued on to the house. "Do they have names?"

Kurt nodded. "The first one that came around is Adam, you know, because he was the first rooster?" Blaine nodded. "The second is Dale. My dad named him when he had his brief obsession with Nascar."

The approached the house and stomped off the worst of the mud before going into the screened off entry room and removing the rubber footwear. They laced themselves into their sneakers once more and made their way into the house.

"Everything good with the chickens, Kurt?" his father called.

The fair boy shook his head. "No. Beatrice," he said simply.

Burt frowned at him in sympathy, pulling his son in for a hug. "I'm sorry, Kurtie," he whispered.

Kurt hugged his father tight before pulling back. "S'okay," he said. "Now, let's go fishing."

Kurt stared at the tiny boat they would all be in for the next few hours. It was a little known fact (it was actually a widely known fact, but Kurt liked to think he kept a lid on his embarrassing fear) that one of the main reasons he hated fishing was his fear inexplicable fear of boats. Not cruise ships or yachts, just small water craft.

He could swim, and he wasn't afraid of the water, but for some reason he was terrified of the boat capsizing. No matter how many how many times his father assured him they were completely fine and that flipping over was highly unlikely, he still worried about it.

Burt stood in the boat and loaded the things Finn handed him quickly and efficiently. Kurt breathed slowly and evenly and tried to get the fine tremor in his limbs under control. Blaine noticed his anxiety and ran a comforting hand up and down his arm. "Are you sure that you want to do this? We can do something else," he offered.

"No," Kurt said adamantly. "I want to."

Blaine nodded and dropped the subject, not wanting to keep questioning him. Then it was time for the two of them to get on the boat.

Blaine went first, effortlessly stepping into the bobbing craft and holding a hand out for Kurt. The slim boy took his hand and shakily stepped into the boat, cursing his lack of grace. He breathed out shakily and smiled at the other boy, quickly taking his seat.

The dark haired teen grinned back and sat next to him, making himself comfortable as he could next to all the gear. Mr. Hummel started the engine looked out over the water, slowly navigating them towards one of his favorite fishing spots.

Kurt had been correct in assuming their bait would be worms and frozen chunks of questionable origin. Blaine took out his iPod and offered one of the ear buds to Kurt. The fair boy smiled when he heard the song playing.

Sting's Fields of Gold lulled him into a sense of security but he couldn't resist getting his digs in. "Sting?" he teased. "Really?"

"What? The man's genius," he defended. "You know you love this song."

Kurt just made a noncommittal sound and focused on the rural landscape around him. The sun was finally coming over the horizon and everything was illuminated by the yellow glow and Kurt let himself get lost in the music.

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold

Kurt didn't have any fields of barley, but it definitely went along with his plans for the other boy. Near the barns there were sprawling fields that he loved to play on when he was a little boy. It was a perfect place for stargazing, and Kurt wanted to take the other boy on a late night picnic under the ruse of admiring the stars.

And then he would confess his feelings for the other teen and hope that he didn't make a complete fool of himself.

Soon the engine puttered to a stop and Blaine hastily put away his iPod. Burt handed out the fishing poles, Kurt smiling when he took his childhood rod. It was standard size, but he had taken it upon himself to "decorate" the drab pole.

He'd bedazzled the thing within an inch of its life and rubbed glitter all over it after liberally applying glue from a glue stick. Blaine bit his lip to keep from laughing and took his more subdued (boring) pole from Kurt's father without a word.

His father and Finn were murmuring to one another about things like lures and bait. He smiled as Blaine wordlessly baited his hook and then his own, knowing Kurt's dislike for the squiggly creatures.

They cast their lines and talked about the Warblers and New Directions and their unique group of friends. Eventually his father called over to Blaine about some football something or other and Kurt rolled his eyes and switched places with the other boy so they could talk about sports without scaring off all of these supposed fish.

Kurt squeaked in surprise when he felt a nibble on his line, nearly dropping the pole in surprise. "Um," he said aloud, his pole starting to bow under the strength of the fighting fish.

Burt chuckled and made a reeling motion and Kurt scrambled to comply. He gripped the pole between his knees and tried to reel the fish in not drop the pole. Blaine nudged him in the side and beamed at him, probably more excited about his possible catch than Kurt.

After much struggling and muttered swears, Kurt finally managed to bring the fish out of water, immediately dropping the pole into the boat. He squirmed away from the flopping fish and squealed in disgust, frantically swiping at the place on his arm where it had rubbed against him.

"Ew ew ew! Get it!" he commanded, slapping at Blaine to spur him into action.

The other boy chuckled under his breath and swiftly pulled the pole up and grabbed the fish, unhooking it deftly. He held it to the elder Hummel for inspection.

Burt whipped out a ruler and measured the fish, nodding his head as he deemed it well within the legal limit to keep. "Nice work, Kurt," he praised.

The fair teen but his lip and nodded, staring at the fish in distaste as he father tossed it into the well. He moved back to his spot and slowly reeled in his line.

"Do you want me to bait your hook?" Blaine asked.

The fair boy shook his head no. "I think I'll take a break," he said, having lost his taste for the "sport" already. He settled his pole back into the built in holder and rustled around in their gear until he came across the book he had packed away.

Mercedes had gotten him into the Sookie Stackhouse vampire novels and he was devouring them at a rapid rate. He, in turn, had gotten Carole addicted to the Southern Vampire Series and laughed as they both had to have their own copies, unable to share them.

Blaine chuckled when he saw Kurt's reading choice and recast his line in another part of the pond, hoping for better luck. The dark haired boy was adept at carrying on a conversation with him as well as with Finn and his father. Kurt had to suppress a happy wiggle at the fact that Blaine fit in so well with his little family.

Soon, Blaine got a hit and reeled in an even bigger fish, just under the legal limit. His father grumbled as he tossed the fish into the well alongside Kurt's, sour that he hadn't managed to catch anything.

Kurt was pretty sure that he got his competitive nature from his father. If he didn't catch a fish soon, he saw this fishing trip ending much sooner than anticipated.

Thankfully, Burt was the next to reel in a fish. Luckily, his success was enough to derail his attention from the fact that it was only just inside the legal range to keep and the smallest fish they caught by far. Finn had also gotten two hits on his pole but lost the first and the second was too small to keep.

After a while, Kurt put his novel to the side and glanced up at the sky. He was surprised to realize how much time had gone by. He searched in his pockets of his cell phone (kept safe inside a plastic bag) and checked the time.

It was nearly eleven o'clock and the slender teen was certain that his companions were going to be hungry soon, if his own peckishness was anything to go by. He gingerly picked his way across the boat and snagged the cooler that contained their lunch.

He maneuvered to the center of the boat and placed the cooler on what Kurt had dubbed "the Captain's chair"; where his father steered the boat. He unpacked the lunch that Carole had packed them and handed it around.

Finn flashed him a grateful smile and took the sandwich and iced tea Kurt handed him. The fair boy rolled his eyes as his father grabbed the sandwich and shoved it in his mouth to hold it while he reeled the line in minutely in hopes of enticing a fish.

Blaine was already securing his hook to one of the rings on the rod and placing it with Kurt's. The fair teen took a seat next to him and smiled besottedly, glad to be spending the day with his favorite people in the world.

Especially Blaine.

Blaine dug his iPod back out and the two of them listened to music while they ate their lunch. As Kurt was gathering the remains of their lunch and packing them away in a trash bag, a breeze picked up over the pond. Burt looked up and saw a sheet of grey clouds rolling in, signaling more rain.

Between the four of them they had caught enough fish for dinner and then some so they decided it was time to go home. Kurt heaved a (mostly) silent sigh of relief and counted down the minutes until he was on dry(ish) land.

His father pulled up to the handmade dock and Kurt all but leapt from the boat, mentally kissing the ground. Blaine followed after him and the two boys piled the gear Kurt's father handed them onto the grass.

While Burt tied the boat off the boys grabbed what they could and made their way back to the Grange. They stopped at the shed and Kurt supervised the organization of fishing tools, long since familiar with his father's preferences.

His dad shuffled into the shed and put away the last of the gear, towing their fresh catch behind him. They made their way back to the house, looking up at the sky and the imminent rain. They all clambered up onto the porch and were met by Carole at the front door. "Shower," she said definitively.

Kurt nodded emphatically but his father wasn't as eager to wash the grime off. "Just as soon as I clean and gut these for dinner," he explained.

The fair teen made a face of horror. He better not expect me to help him, Kurt thought with revulsion. His father chuckled at the look on Kurt's face and waved him upstairs. "You guys don't have to help, so don't make that face. Go ahead and wash up."

Kurt sighed in relief and was surprised when Finn volunteered to help. He shrugged it off and hightailed it towards the stairs, hearing Blaine right behind him. He looked back at the other boy with a teasing smile. "Are you sure you don't want to help my father and Finn disembowel some fish?"

Blaine made a face of repulsion and Kurt laughed, loud and clear. It was still early, but Kurt was looking forward to bed. He briefly compiled reasons that he should be able to take a nap in preparation to convince his father.

He idly waved at Blaine as he continued down the hall to his own room, desperately trying not to think about him while he was about to get in the shower. He already felt guilty enough for fantasizing about him yesterday and he didn't need to do it while the other boy was showering as well.

The acoustics of the bathroom would carry too well. There were other reasons, of course, but that was chief among them.

He pushed open the door, careful not to touch anything, and made his way to the shower. He quickly stripped out of his clothes and dropped them into the corner, vowing to wash them like they had never been washed before.

He adjusted the spray and stepped into the shower, hoping the water could wash away some of the thoughts he couldn't escape.

Blaine leaned against the door of his room and exhaled shakily. Today had not been what he was expecting, from the very start.

From this morning, when they had discovered the unfortunate news of Beatrice's passing, to the fishing trip, Blaine had been on his toes the entire time. It was very difficult to keep his burgeoning feelings for the other boy under wraps when the perfect opportunity for confessions kept presenting themselves.

While he had enjoyed spending the day with Kurt and his family, he hoped that they would have the opportunity to be alone tomorrow. He really wanted to spend more time with the countertenor and had already devised a plan to do so.

He and Kurt had wanted to visit town once more and see a showing of Gone With the Wind and he was hoping that the fair boy would be amendable to doing so tomorrow.

He sighed and walked to his bathroom, undressing methodically and stepping into the shower. He sighed as the hot water sluiced down his body and washed away the grime of the day so far. He thought about Kurt in the other room and took a steadying breath, firmly quashing all impure feelings.

He took his time and envisioned every different scenario of confessing his feelings that he could think of, Kurt reactions ranging from enthusiastically reciprocal to being so disgusted he never spoke to Blaine again.

Hopefully that was the worst case scenario, well outside the realm of possibility. He'd had his suspicions about the other boy's feelings, but just as he was sure that the other boy was going to say something, he didn't. The subject changed or Kurt became quiet and contemplative or he suggested something new for them to do, completely confusing the Warbler.

He rinsed the last of the conditioner out of his hair and turned off the shower, stepping onto the rug tiredly and wrapping a towel around his waist. He walked into the room and the first thing he noticed was that his phone was blinking with a message. He scooped up his phone and tapped the screen, pulling up a message from Kurt.

Don't worry about getting dressed. I'm planning on trying to take a nap :P

Blaine laughed and nodded at his phone; he'd love to not be dressed with Kurt. Regardless, a nap sounded amazing. His phone buzzed again, another message from Kurt.

If you want to watch a movie, you can come over when you finish getting dressed, or whatever.

Blaine smiled. Yeah, that sounded great too. He sent a quick text back, telling Kurt he'd be there just as soon as he got dressed. He pulled on some comfortable clothes and fished around in his luggage for one of the movies he had brought with him.

As much as the other boy might try to deny it, Kurt had an obsession with science fiction and fantasy. He grabbed The Mummy and made his way over to the slender teen's room. He knocked on the door and heard Kurt's soft voice inviting him in.

He smiled and held up the movie, feeling butterflies take flight in his stomach at Kurt's bashful smile. The boy nodded and Blaine cheerfully popped the DVD into the flat screen.

He turned around and was surprised to see that Kurt had settled in bed, and not on the couch. The fair teen yawned before patting the space next to him.

Blaine's heart raced as he made his way to the lounging boy, crawling into the space provided for him. "Are you sure your dad isn't going to kill me if he comes in and sees this?" he asked skeptically.

Kurt chuckled and gestured to the second blanket on the edge of the bed. "As long as we're not under the same sheets, he'll be fine." The dark haired boy eyed it doubtfully but wrapped it around him and settled down on Kurt's bed.

The fair boy grabbed the remote and pressed play, smiling at the opening credits. Blaine was glad that Kurt had trusted him enough to share something that he was clearly self-conscious about, even if Blaine couldn't understand the reason.

Predictably, Burt knocked on the door and came into the room with little preamble. "Boys," he said neutrally.

"Dad," Kurt replied, pausing the movie. Burt made to step into the room but Kurt's had shot out in warning. "Not until you've had a shower! You're covered in fish entrails."

Burt looked down at himself and reluctantly stayed in the doorway. "You two going to just relax for the rest of the day?" he asked suspiciously.

Blaine nodded emphatically. No way was he going to do anything ungentlemanly while he was under Mr. Hummel's roof. The very idea of getting caught doing anything Burt Hummel might disapprove of was terrifying.

"Yes, Dad," Kurt replied, tone tired yet annoyed. "See? Different blankets."

Burt nodded and eyed the shorter teen sternly before turning his gaze to Kurt and backing out of the room, pulling the door closed but not shutting it.

Kurt rolled his eyes at his father's antics and restarted the movie. "Don't worry about it," Kurt said, startling Blaine out of his terrifying reverie. "I think he likes you."

"How could you tell?" Blaine asked in disbelief.

"Well," Kurt began. "The first time Finn came over, before he started dating Carole, my dad started to polish his shot gun. He's got way more than just a shot gun here at the Grange."

"How comforting," Blaine deadpanned.

Kurt slapped a hand at him sleepily and turned so he was facing the other boy. "Just hush. Watch the movie."

Blaine nodded and cuddled down into the soft bedding, eyes on Kurt for along moment before focusing on the Egyptian themed movie. "Blaine," he heard Kurt whisper.

"Hmm?" he replied softly.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too," Blaine replied, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "Me too."