Kurt sat on the couch in front of the tv, trying to pretend to pay attention to the evening news. His father sat on the other end, looking happy just to have him home; Kurt knew it hadn't been easy on his dad having him so far away so much of the time, and he could appreciate that. Most of the time he looked forward to breaks – and in particular, to going home – far more than anyone else at school.

He had missed being home, but his mind was a million miles away.

He didn't understand. Blaine liked him...didn't he? The only signs Kurt knew to look for were all there – he'd practically made a checklist to ensure that he didn't make a move if it wouldn't be okay. Blaine couldn't stop staring at him, and they sang flirty duets together, and he was always smiling at him in a way that no other boy (even Sam) ever had...and Blaine was a homosexual like he was. Unlike what he had later recognized as attraction to Finn, which wouldn't have been reciprocated because Finn was only interested in girls, Blaine was interested in boys. At least he was sometimes, that's what he'd said. Or what he'd nodded over.

Right? Was Kurt even remembering it right anymore? It had been two months, and it felt like longer, and for all he knew-

Maybe Blaine was interested in boys but he was too much like a girl. Maybe that was the problem. After all, the boys in town had never wanted anything to do with him because he was too feminine – too soft, too interested in clothes and fine cooking, not interested enough in sports and playing rough-and-tumble games. He'd never really been like a boy thanks to this ridiculous sexual inversion condition he'd had for as long as he could remember.

Maybe Blaine wanted a boy who was like a boy.

He dismissed the thought quickly, reasoning that Blaine certainly seemed to want to spend time with Jean, who was an actual girl. A girl who acted more like a boy, maybe, he'd only met her once and she certainly didn't seem nearly as feminine as he did. She certainly didn't seem the play by the girls' rules, she was bold in a way he kind of respected. Like Rachel only less irritating and less garishly-dressed.

She was wearing a red and green plaid skirt with knee socks in a colour that he assumed was meant to to be gold but looked more like the colour of cheap mustard. Her red and black plaid headband was in exactly the wrong scale to look even remotely good. But her sweater... He wasn't sure where she had found a black sweater with two white reindeer on it, but that was certainly what she was wearing.

It didn't escape Kurt's notice that he wasn't the first person she looked at when she came into the room. “Hi Finn,” she said first with a grin.

"Hey," Finn replied from the recliner. He'd been kind of out-of-sorts since Quinn left for...wherever it was she'd gone. Kurt knew enough of the story to be very glad he wasn't in Finn's shoes, at any rate. He couldn't imagine if someone he loved as much as Finn loved Quinn were to just up and leave one day without any warning. And even if Quinn hadn't chosen to go voluntarily, as they pretty much all suspected, that didn't help the feeling of empty confusion that read all over Finn's face. He looked a little more with-it when Rachel walked in, and Kurt had no idea if Finn might seem completely normal on days that weren't near a holiday...but he doubted it. He got the impression that Finn spent most of his time working silently in the shop and the rest singing in his room and trying not to think about her.

It didn't help that he didn't have school or a plethora of Cheerios to focus his attention on, either, Kurt suspected. Or sports to reinforce his status as top dog.

He wondered how many people in town knew the story. For that matter, Kurt wasn't entirely sure how many people in town even knew Quinn was gone. Rachel did because he'd filled her in - and, much to his dismay, she'd expressed just barely enough sympathy before inquiring about the rest of Finn's prospects. Apparently she wasn't as over him as she wanted everyone to believe.

"How are you?" she ventured to Finn. Kurt caught her eye and gave her a 'don't even try' expression; her face fell for a moment before she turned to Burt with a pasted-on smile. "Mr. Hummel," she greeted him brightly.

"What are you doing here, Rachel?" Kurt asked before she could attempt to make best friends with his family. It wasn't that he minded her talking to his father or Carole per se, but she had a tendency to take the opportunity to work on her method acting technique. He still wasn't too pleased with her from the time he'd walked in from the garage to find Rachel helping Carole with the dishes and talking about their magical second date to the pizza parlor, followed by the bowling alley.

Like he would be caught dead in those shoes.

"I thought I'd come see you - it's not every day my boyfriend comes home from school," she replied with a broad smile, like wasn't he just silly and adorable, then gave an exaggerated wink when she thought no one was looking.

She was going to be the death of him, he swore. "True," he replied with a tight smile that he hoped conveyed how glad he was to see her while still making clear he kind of wanted to shake her right now. He stood and, as he had expected, she slipped her hand immediately into his. he was getting used to that part - slowly but surely. Mostly it just felt awkward, and usually when she did it she looked like she was trying to side-eye Finn into noticing or something. he wasn't sure if that was conscious on her part or not. Maybe years of trying to make Finn notice her made it such an ingrained part of her actions that she honestly didn't mean to keep doing it. Or maybe she did still like Finn and was using him every bit as much as he was using her, though for decidedly different purposes.

He started to lead her down the hall to his room and heard his father call after them, "Door stays open." He said it every time, and every time Rachel squeezed his hand and grinned in victory, as though she was so proud that they were successfully convincing Kurt's family - like this meant she was doing something right. It just made him feel more awkward than he already did.

The front dropped as soon as they were in his room, the door propped exactly halfway open. Rachel sat on the edge of Kurt's bed, her performance grin slipping into something more akin to a normal smile as she went from being his faux girlfriend to being his actual friend. "Have you seen Operation Petticoat yet? I know it's probably not as amazing much fun as it sounds like, I mean it would be better with Gene Kelly and if it involved actual petticoats and dancing, but it has Cary Grant and then we can-"

"Why are you here?" Kurt asked bluntly, and Rachel looked confused for a moment, wounded. He didn't care. He-...okay, he did, but not enough right now. Not after spending two days trying to track Blaine down with no success whatsoever. Not after going over everything in his mind a hundred thousand times to the point where he honestly wasn't sure what he remembered and what he was making up. The last thing he wanted to do was sit in a dark theater with Rachel holding his hand all night, and watch Cary Grant and make stupid comparisons between him and Blaine and start into a rendition of "You Made Me Love You" even though that was supposed to be about Clark Gable instead. He wanted to sit in a dark room and listen to Connie Francis and drape himself elegantly over chairs as if they were fainting couches.

"I...leave the day after tomorrow, and you just got back, and I won't see you again until it's almost time for you to go back to school," she said, looking like she didn't understand what she'd done wrong. She didn't, he knew that, because the truth was it wasn't her fault. "I wanted to see you. Even if we're not..." she glanced at the door as if to check no one was coming "...what everyone thinks we are, I still miss you. I only get to hear from you like twice a week, and we used to see each other a lot more than that - with school and glee club and everything."

"I miss you too," he admitted begrudgingly, and his lack of a snappy comeback was more than evidence enough of his sincerity. Because he did miss her - and Mercedes too, badly. Hanging out with all boys was frustrating, even if they were much better guys than the ones at McKinley. None of them understood what made a movie romantic and moving, or why shopping was a fun way to spend an afternoon, or why Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were amazing.

None of them except Blaine, at least.

"So. Where are you going?" he asked, trying to change the subject away from the one thing he definitely didn't want to think about.

"Cleveland. My mom's actually letting me go see my dad instead of having to sneak over there this year," she replied proudly. "She's not happy about it, but I told her that since I turn 18 soon anyway there really isn't any point in trying to prevent it. I'm staying for a week."

Well. That didn't help him not think about things. He wanted to send her with a list of questions, things she could ask her dad and his...boyfriend? He didn't even know what the right word was, he only knew that 'roommate' wasn't it - Rachel had said 'lover' but first of all she also said 'coloured' and second of all that word was too...intimate for him to really think without blushing. He wanted to give her a list of things to look out for and explain to him when she got back even though he could about guarantee that she would get it wrong or something and he would end up making things even worse with Blaine.

If they could get worse.

What he really wanted to do was beg to come with her, but even if her father was okay with that, his wouldn't be. There were distinct disadvantages to everyone thinking they were dating - he would be allowed to go somewhere with Mercedes and her family without so much as a second glance. Of course, she was practically family, but still.

"Have fun," he offered quietly, his mind a million miles away.

"I will," she replied brightly. "It'll be amazing. I plan on telling him that I know about everything and he doesn't need to pretend his lover actually lives in the room I'm staying in anymore." Kurt didn't see any way that could go badly, but Rachel ignored his side-eyed glance and judgmentally-quirked eyebrow. "Oh! And I brought your present." She dug into her large bag.

"I hadn't even thought of- I haven't gotten do my shopping yet. There aren't many places to go near school and I have a week until-"

"Oh, that's fine," she replied. "I'm used to Hanukkah shopping, which is usually earlier. This year's special - the first night is the same as Christmas, that hasn't happened in almost 50 years." She produced a broad, nearly-flat package about the size of a large folder, wrapped in hideous blue and green paper that Kurt suspected was intended for a boy's birthday or something. "I thought the blue and green made a great statement about joining the two holidays, both our heritage," she stated. "I know we hadn't talked about gifts, but I saw this and I thought of you - and us."

Every time she said 'us', Kurt felt himself tighten a little, worrying that she might not really be as clear on this deal as she sounded like she was. "Oh?" He took the package and smoothed the paper with his thumb as he added, "Thank you" then tore it open. Inside lay a book of sheet music entitled "Broadway's Greatest Love Songs: Duets"

"Since we're dating," she said, with an exaggerated wink and a grin, "I thought this would be perfect. After all, it means we have a ready-made duet partner when we go out singing places. And I know it's probably a lot lower than you're used to singing - your voice is beautiful, and you have exceptional control over your falsetto even if you can't sing as high as I can - but we could probably rearrange it a little bit if you wanted. I've already taken the liberty of selecting a few..." She took the book out of his hands, flipped through, and handed it back to him. "This one would be especially good."

Kurt stared down at the title, tracing his thumb slowly over the letters. If he tried hard enough, he could keep his face from crumbling, even if he felt the tears pricking the back of his eyes - because of course it was this song. Of course. This was his life after all, of course this song was the one Rachel wanted to sing with him. And right this second, Blaine was two hours away wearing a ridiculous costume and singing this song to his own personal Andrews Sister with his damned charming grin and his stupid eyes and-

"I really can't stay..." he sang quietly, more murmuring than actual tone.

"The reason I thought it worked well is because the boy part and the girl part interchange - you know, in the movie it was deliberately reversed later on, with Red Skelton and-"

"I know," he replied quietly. That was the problem.

Because if it weren't reversible, this wouldn't have happened. If he could've just stayed in the girl part and not tried to be something bolder, then maybe...maybe Blaine wouldn't have run away. Maybe he would've just kept Kurt in that little falsetto box where he was picturing Jean instead of him, and Kurt wouldn't have tried to kiss Blaine, and they would still be speaking instead of...this. And Kurt would be able to think of Blaine without thinking about how his lips tasted like lips and his skin felt just a little rough.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

He didn't even know where to begin. There was so much wrong - with Blaine, with them, maybe with him too he didn't evne know. M aybe this whole thing was his fault and he didn't know it.

The signs were all there, how had he gotten it so horribly wrong?

"I kissed Blaine," he said, lying across his bed, staring up at the ceiling and shaking his head. How stupid could he have been? If Blaine wanted to kiss him, he would've done it already. What made him think that the reason was just that Blaine was worried about making the first move or something?

"And you didn't tell me until now?" Rachel demanded. "What happened?"

"He ran out of the room and won't speak to me." His tongue felt as thick and clumsy as his voice, tripping over the words as he tried not to think too hard about what he was saying, but he couldn't help it. "I don't understand it. We were so together on everything and then all of a sudden..."

"Well...did he ever actually say he liked you?" she asked.

"No. But he is homosexual, that much he said. Well. Nodded when I asked."

"Did he make a move?"

"No, but...the signs were all there. He couldn't stop staring at me, and we'd always sing these flirty duets together, and we talk all the time...and he'd touch my hand, or my arm, or my..." Rachel's blank look wasn't helping him feel any better. Instead it felt like he was grasping at straws - because he knew it was real. He knew it had been something, that they had something, but when asked to put his finger on what precisely that was - on what made him think that? "...Oh god, I made the whole thing up in my head, didn't I?"

Maybe he really was crazy. Maybe other people could be a non-predatory homosexual but he couldn't. He had no idea anymore.

What had he been thinking?

"No," Rachel stated.

He sat up to stare at her, eyes narrow in confusion. "No?" he repeated.

She shook her head. "I've been through this before," she stated. "When Finn and I-"

"That's a terrible example, Rachel, you were never together."

"Only because he's been thoroughly devoted to Quinn and unlike certain other boys at this school that means something," she replied. He wasn't sure which boy had tried to say or do something, but his money was on Puck. Puck was usually the one at the center of those kind of things. "When I wanted to date Finn, he would do things like that. I can't even think of how many times we sang duets together and I would look into his eyes and know that he was feeling for me everything I was feeling for him. Him staring at me, me staring back at him and staring at him staring at me, singing songs that were too deep for mere words to express." She had on her 'dramatic' face, as Kurt tended to call it, as she stared off into the distance as though she could see the entire scene playing out again in front of her and was choosing to relive it in vivid detail because that would help convey to him just how much it meant. He had long since gotten used to it and simply gave her a barely-indulgent tight smile as she continued. "Of course, nothing could happen because he was dating Quinn, and now he's too heartbroken to even consider it. Though I suppose if anyone could help him through-"

"Rachel," Kurt said warningly. If this was their arrangement, then it had to stay in place - if only because there was no way Rachel would be able to keep the secret were it not for their mutually-assured destruction. Mostly he just didn't see any way the relationship could end well, which would mean he would have to listen to it from both sides when it fell apart. Despite her adoration of Finn - which he could appreciate and had shared in his own way before the guy became his brother - the two of them would never work. They had nothing in common, she planned on leaving at the end of her senior year, and they were oblivious in completely incompatible ways: Rachel didn't notice anything outside herself and what directly related to her; Finn didn't notice...anything.

Besides, it wasn't the same thing. If she had kissed Finn, he wouldn't have run away. He would have told her they shouldn't, or he might have done the more typical - if less honourable - thing and kissed her back. Maybe even broken things off with Quinn for her, depending on when ti had been and whether Quinn had been treating Finn like dirt again. This was...he didn't have all the words to describe why it was different, but it was. He knew that much.

She fell silent for a moment, contemplating, then concluded, "He's the mouse."

Just when he thought nothing more ridiculous could come from Rachel's mouth, she said something like that. "Excuse me?"

She pointed to the still-open book, at the sheet music for "Baby It's Cold Outside." Rather than 'man' and 'woman', the parts were labeled 'wolf' and 'mouse' to indicate the pursuer and coy object of pursuit. "You made the first move, that makes you the wolf. While I'll admit that's surprising because you're kind of one of the girls and he's...not really, maybe that's not the way it works. So if he's the mouse, then he keeps saying no, no, he can't, he shouldn't, and wanting you to follow him to tell him all the reasons he should do this."

That didn't sound quite right either. "So you're telling me that I should go after him more?" Kurt concluded, looking skeptical.

"Absolutely," Rachel replied. "Girls like to be pursued, Kurt. You're certainly someone who goes after what you want - I would know. So am I. You should go after Blaine until he gives in. Now." She stood and smoothed her skirt. "Let's go watch sailors for a few hours. Then maybe you can take me out dancing."

* * * * *

Of the many areas of life that became more difficult when two families merged to become one, Kurt was certain that none was more tenuous to navigate than that of holidays.

Kurt's mother had instilled in him from an early age the importance of traditions. Every year before he started school, she marked his growth on the back of the closet door. Every Easter they spent the night before dying eggs beautiful colours and staring at them instead of hiding them. Every year on his birthday he got a chocolate cake with white icin, and every Thanksgiving and Christmas there was a big dinner with all the trimmings.

Then she died, and Mrs. Jones tried to step into a lot of them and gradually transition him out of a few of the others. It had been the year he was 11 that he suggested that, in the spirit of showing how thankful he and his dad were for Mrs. Jones keeping them alive and fed and everything (and being the closest thing to a mother figure he could have), they should host the Joneses for Thanksgiving. He'd learned enough cooking from her that he could manage - with supervision but not much help - so his dad and Mr. Jones and Mercedes' brother watched football in the living room while he made dinner, roping Mercedes in to help while Mrs. Jones watched dutifully from the table under "strict instructions" not to lift a finger.

In return, she had hosted them for Christmas dinner, which helped fill the quiet emptiness of the day. Otherwise the day consisted of he and his father spending twenty minutes opening presents, then staring at each other and missing his mom and the way she sang carols the entire month of December no matter how much the people around town said it was too early. But heading over to the Joneses' around noon for dinner, themed television specials, and picking over leftovers around suppertime, had become a thoroughly enjoyable tradition -it felt like family. It was family.

Enter Carole and Finn.

It wasn't that Kurt minded dinner, though he did prefer ham to goose and Carole was used to fixing the latter - part of her own traditions, he supposed. It was just that he missed sitting on the braided rug with Mercedes and joking about how many stars could try to sing The Christmas Song in a single day on a single network. So as soon as dinner was over and his dad and Finn were settling onto the couch to watch something sports-related that he didn't care about, Kurt shrugged on his coat, adjusted his scarf, and tucked Mercedes' present under his arm. He chirped out an announcement of his intended whereabouts, then went quickly out to the car to drive across town.

The scent of ham staying warm in the oven greeted him as soon as John opened the door. A semester at Howard had been good to him, and he looked more relaxed than Kurt remembered - if also a little rounder-faced. More adult somehow, like he'd grown into himself. From where he stood in the doorway he could hear Mr. Jones chuckling at something on television and Mrs. Jones scolding him for tracking crumbs all over from her famous Christmas cookies (which was an argument he'd heard every year for the better part of a decade now) and Mercedes upstairs singing along with Ella's Christmas album. He hated that it felt more like where he was meant to be than in his own house, with his father and stepmother and stepbrother...but Finn was sulking about missing Quinn and the tree had an assortment of ornaments he wasn't used to yet and it was just...

He understood why so many of the guys from Dalton avoided going home for breaks. If it felt like that, awkward and offputting and not like being in your own place...

He wondered how Blaine was surviving break. From how fall break had gone, he was under the distinct impression that the guy wanted to spend as little time there as he could.

He was sure Jean was helping the time go faster.

Not that he was bitter. Or lonely.

He bypassed the living room, heading for the stairs to give Mercedes her present first thing. "Merry Christmas."

She stopped singing when he spoke and looked up at him, eyes hardened into a glare. "Hello."

Kurt blinked, confused. He hadn't spoken to her as recently as he would have liked, but it hadn't been that long had it? Not long enough that was pissed at him for not calling? "Mercedes-"

"I didn't think you'd be over today."

"What are you talking about? Every year-"

"You wouldn't rather be with Rachel? Celebrate Christmas with your girlfriend?"

The anger in her voice was colder than he'd ever heard from her, and that included the year they were both twelve and hated everyone and everything including each other. It included the time he'd accidentally ruined her science fair project with too much glitter and the time she'd had a horrible day only to find that he had eaten the last cookie and misplaced all of her frustration onto him. He wasn't sure why she was upset with him over this, but somehow all that came out was-

"She doesn't celebrate Christmas, she's Jewish." It wasn't until she rolled her eyes that he added, "And she's not exactly-"

"I had to hear about it from your father. You couldn't even tell me?"

"Honestly, Mercedes, I don't understand what the big deal is."

She huffed and rolled her eyes again, crossing over to the record player to find another album. "All this time, I thought you were too busy, but you weren't - and you're dating her?"

It wasn't anything Kurt could put his finger on, but something about the way she seemed so bitter...like her problem wasn't with not knowing, but with not being the one he was dating. But that didn't make any sense: they were family. She was his best friend, and her mom was practically his mom and they joked about her annoyingly perfect big brother together because they were family.

"Mercedes..." he began slowly.

She turned. "What? You gonna say it's not me, it's you? Some other stupid line? Look, I don't care - I just thought-...you're a good guy and you're not all self-involved and only into sports and what the other guys are into, and we have fun together. I thought we'd be a good match. But if you like Rachel-"

He laughed - he couldn't help it. It wasn't funny, but at some point it was just so ridiculous... "Believe me, Mercedes, I'm not dating Rachel because I like her. It's just...easier this way."

The shocked look that crossed her face was mild compared to the outright wrath that appeared moments later. "I thought if anyone wouldn't care, it would be you. For how much you talk up that fancy school and how accepting it is, but no-"

Oh god. Now he had to tell her the truth. Because he couldn't make up anything that would sound good enough or real enough to make her stop thinking it had something to do with being afraid of what people would say seeing the two of them walking down the street holding hands. What he wouldn't give for that to be his biggest concern.

"It's not about you. And I'm not just saying that," he tried to explain. "The truth is..." He wasn't sure how to say it without just saying it and he wasn't sure how to do that at all, but he couldn't let her think what she was thinking. And if anyone should know...it should be Mercedes. Mercedes was the person who knew the most about him in the world, she had been there for him when he had literally not a single person to talk to during the school day. "There is someone I like - but not Rachel. This person is...is Blaine." She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and looked confused, then started to say something again but he jumped in before she could. He could feel his fingers quivering and tears starting to build up behind his eyes, even if he didn't know why except-

What if she didn't want to see him? What if she was angry with him? Or said he was sick and never wanted to speak to him again and told everyone else? He-...he knew he didn't want to believe that she would do that, she was his best friend, but what if-

He hadn't really told anyone before. He'd confirmed it when Rachel asked him, and he'd asked Blaine, but this-...this was different. Risky.

Terrifying.

"I'm...I'm a homosexual," he whispered, cursing the fact that of course the tears had to start then and his face had to get all red and blotchy and if he didn't seem pathetic before he certainly did now. "Rachel knows, that's why we're dating, but she's not who I like. I...like Blaine. I screwed it up, I think, but that's...that's who."

Mercedes stared at him for what seemed like hours but was barely more than a few seconds. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He didn't know how to say it was because he was terrified of what she would think of him, so he simply responded with "I've never really told anyone." It was true, just not all of it.

She didn't say anything, just kind of nodded slowly and looked him up and down. After a long silence, she said, "I don't really know what to say to you right now."

That hadn't been what he was expecting, and he wasn't entirely sure what to say to her not knowing what to say. He wanted that lighter feeling, that sense of being able to...to conquer anything that he'd gotten when he talked to Blaine about it. Instead he was left feeling uneasy, as though he were on unstable ground and didn't know what the status of their friendship was anymore. She wasn't calling him disgusting but wasn't reacting with the kind of enthusiasm he was used to seeing from her, either, and that was entirely disconcerting.

Was this a normal reaction? Or was she just angry because she wished that he would have liked her instead?

"I'm still me," he offered meekly, feeling like an idiot even as he said it. "I...Mercedes, you're the only best friend I've ever had. Please don't get weird on me." He gave her a pleading look, and after a moment she stood and wrapped her arms around him in a quick embrace; he let out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding.

"Were you always this tall?"

The pivot wasn't what he'd been expecting, but he supposed it was better than staying on the subject. It was a ridiculous question, and he laughed a little. "No," he replied with a fakely-smug smile that looked more sad than he would've liked (but not nearly as conflicted as he actually was) - a year ago they'd been the same height. Now he towered over her, though he wasn't sure when that had happened. "Don't worry, Mercedes, I'll never look down on you," he teased.

"Mmhmm," she replied dryly with a sarcastic look. "Get anything good?"

It was common knowledge that the time immediately following Christmas was a prime fashion opportunity. The combination of gifted clothes and accessories, fantastic sales at the mall, and plenty of chances to wear the newly-minted ensembles around town made it a magical time of year.

It felt good to retreat back into safe conversation like that, to play the same game they'd played for as long as he could remember. "Yes," he replied cryptically. This was how it always began.

She pulled back to look at him, then guessed, "The pants, and...let's see. I've seen that shirt, I know you were talking about buying that jacket last time you were home, and no way did anyone in your house try to buy shoes, so I'm going to say the pants and the tie."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow, his face giving no indication how well she had done. "That skirt has your mother written all over it. And...the necklace. I was with you when you bought the earrings...and the sweater used to be your mother's when we were kids."

"Score?" Mercedes asked.

"1 for 2 - pants, no tie, and you missed the scarf."

"How do you do it?" she demanded, and Kurt grinned - that meant he was right. He almost always was.

"It's my gift," he replied, flicking his hair back with one hand as he passed her the box containing her present. "And this is yours," he added.

The black faux-fur stole would be a nice replacement for the leopard one she kept wearing - and would make her laugh because it was their go-to non-argument - and the pin with it was gorgeous if he did say so himself. Gold and big and costumey in exactly Mercedes' style. She laughed as she opened it. "It'll go great with my leopard shirt," she teased, and he gave her his best deadpan look.

"Or that great skirt we found last summer, or the gorgeous blue dress you need to wear more often."

There was another awkward silence as she appeared to be looking him up and down again, as though trying to figure out what about him was different now that she knew. He wasn't sure how to explain any more clearly that, according to all the reports he'd been able to find, he had been like this for a long time. Maybe forever, he wasn't sure.

She pulled her eyes away and walked over to the top of her dresser, retrieving a wrapped package that looked suspiciously like an album. She handed it over and said, "It's supposed to be amazing."

He unwrapped the present to reveal a new cast album: The Sound of Music. "It opened last month to rave reviews," he confirmed, tracing his fingers over the lettering on the front. "Plus you know how I like anything where I get to sing Mary Martin," he added with a faint smile.

She returned the smile warily. "I hope you like it - when you hear it. With Rachel, I know if you're...non-dating now, you'll probably-"

They'd listened to more albums together than he could count - especially if they were new purchases or presents. South Pacific had been together (his birthday two years ago), and Peter Pan when they were probably only about 12, and Lady Sings the Blues for Mercedes' birthday when they were 15. It was supposed to be something they did together, dating or no dating.

"Mercedes." He handed it to her. "Put it on." She grinned and walked to the record player to start the soundtrack, then they assumed a typical position crossways on her bed to listen. It felt gloriously normal, and Kurt reveled in it.