The other customers at the small coffee shop barely seemed to notice the tall, hulking man leaning against the brick wall just outside the door. Most just entered the café without even looking at him, acting as if he were nothing more than another signpost, but the occasional person who passed by did glance at him curiously. The man ignored these occasional stares and just continued to look coolly unbothered as he watched the cars rumble by on the road and the New Yorkers walk by him on the sidewalk.

Inside the coffee shop, sitting at one of the small round tables and swirling the coffee around his cup thoughtfully, Kurt had his gaze trained on the muscular man leaning by the doors. After a bit of persuasion from Blaine and his dad, he had gotten himself a bodyguard who now accompanied him whenever he went out in public. It was annoying not being able to spontaneously decide to go out for coffee and instead have to call his bodyguard and wait for him to arrive, but he had to admit that his presence was helping a lot.

Since hiring the bodyguard a few days ago, he hadn't felt pressured into answering any questions from demanding paparazzi, and the numbers of them skulking around outside his apartment building and studios had significantly decreased. Now that it was harder for them to get decent pictures and practically impossible to get answers to any of their questions, fewer of them seemed inclined to hang around. He and Blaine were now able to come and go from his apartment with relative ease and they no longer needed a bodyguard with them if they were just travelling between a car and the building, which was nice as it meant spontaneous visits to each other were easy again. But, despite all of this, Kurt longed for the days when he wouldn't need a bodyguard anymore - if they ever came.

The chair opposite him scraped along the floor and Kurt looked away from his bodyguard as Rachel set her coffee down on the table and dropped down into the chair.

"I didn't realise it was so hard to make a coffee with soy milk," she grumbled, shooting one of the baristas - a flustered looking teenage girl - a glare. "It's not rocket science."

Kurt just rolled his eyes. "Give her a break; it looks like it's her first day."

Rachel just huffed and peeled back the lid of her cup to examine it critically. Seemingly satisfied, she replaced the lid and took a sip. "So, how are you?" she asked, peering at him closely. "I haven't had a chance to really talk to you since you got back from Lima. How's the whole bodyguard thing working out?"

Kurt nodded, glancing briefly over at his bodyguard again. "The situation with the media has definitely improved since I hired him and it's great not being pestered all the time." He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. "I can't wait to not need him anymore, though."

Rachel sat back in her chair. "Yeah, it would be nice to get your privacy back again." She took a contemplative drink of coffee, her eyes slightly unfocused as she stared straight ahead of her.

Setting her cup back on the table, she leaned forwards again and rested her elbows on the table. "So, what all happened out in Lima? You haven't gotten the chance to tell me the whole story yet."

And so, with his eyes on the table as he fidgeted with a paper napkin, he told Rachel of how he had arrived at his family's house in Lima, devastated at the thought that he had lost Blaine, and how Blaine had shown up outside his house at three in the morning. He had to hold back tears and grip tightly at his creased and torn napkin with shaking hands as he recounted the conversation they'd had in his bedroom, skipping over the detail that he and Blaine had shared his bed that night wearing very little clothing.

Rachel listened intently and smiled gently at him when he paused to take a drink of coffee after finishing his description of that night. "I knew after telling Blaine that you were in Lima and he raced out the door after you that you would fix things." She pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I mean, a part of me worried that it was over, especially seeing as I didn't know what had happened, but I heard how broken you sounded on the phone and Blaine was an absolute mess when he showed up at our apartment looking for you. I could tell just how much you loved each other and deep down I knew you wouldn't give up on each other."

Kurt sniffed and reached for his cup, taking another large swallow, hoping the warm liquid would soothe his trembling at the memory of that night and return his composure.

"What happened the next day?" Rachel asked curiously once Kurt had recovered.

"Well-" He broke off as the memory of waking up with Blaine filled him: Blaine's lips on his, kissing him hungrily; hot skin pressed against hot skin; the muscles of Blaine's belly tensing under his hand; Blaine hovering over him, sucking marks onto his neck, chest, and collarbone; hands sliding over each other; gasps and moans filling the room...

"Um-" He could feel his face turning red under Rachel's gaze and he ducked his head and fidgeted with his napkin again, smoothing out the crumpled white square. "We- I, um-"

Rachel raised an eyebrow as she watched Kurt stutter and stumble over his words, his cheeks flaming.

"I- I let my dad know that Blaine had come over and, um-"

Rachel shook her head at him, a slowly widening smirk appearing on her face as if she could read Kurt's mind and knew exactly what had happened. Her next words only reinforced this. "What happened before you spoke to your dad? You and Blaine have a more physical make-up?"

Kurt was now blushing so hard he wouldn't be surprised if Rachel could feel the heat radiating off him. "We kissed quite a bit, yes," he said, not sounding very convincing even to his own ears.

Rachel's smirk - if possible - got even wider. "And?" she pressed.

Giving in, Kurt sighed heavily and raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, we had sex. Happy?"

Rachel squealed so loudly that just about everyone in the small coffee shop glanced over curiously at her, some looking a little startled.

"Rachel!" Kurt hissed, his face still burning under the stares from all the other people in the café.

She flapped her hands, still grinning broadly at him. "Sorry! Sorry!" She paused as people gradually averted their attention from them and their conversation became completely private once more. She smiled at him mischievously. "So how was it?"

Kurt glared at his friend as another shot of heat and colour flooded his face. "Rachel!" he exclaimed, aghast. "I am not answering that," he informed her firmly. "And why do you even want to know? Learn the personal boundary line!"

"Fine! Fine!" Rachel sighed, looking a little disappointed. "So, you talked to Carole and Burt about the problems with the media?" she prompted.

Kurt nodded, feeling the colour slowly starting to recede from his face. "My dad was the one who suggested that I get a bodyguard." He eyed the man in the dark jacket who stood outside the coffee shop, not looking irritated with having to wait around outside a café for hours, but then again, he was being paid for it.

"We talked about my publicist-"

Rachel straightened suddenly. "Oh, yeah, you fired him, didn't you?" she interjected.

Nodding again, Kurt prodded at the side of his coffee cup. "Yeah, I did, seeing as he just suddenly stopped doing his job. I called him the day we got back from Lima and told him he was out of a job." He shook his head slightly. "He argued with me, of course, tried to explain why he hadn't done anything about all those articles that were published about me, but I didn't listen to any of his excuses. I fired him and that was that," he said, glancing across at Rachel who was nodding slowly at him.

"Have you found a new publicist yet?" she asked.

"Yeah, I hired a new guy yesterday. He's got a good reputation, so," he shrugged, "we'll see how it goes."

Rachel smiled at him. "Hopefully all those articles will stop now."

Kurt just nodded, his mind already moved on to remembering what happened on Saturday morning. "We ran into Blaine's mom at the Lima Bean," he said before Rachel got the chance to ask if anything else interesting had happened over the weekend.

Setting down the coffee cup that had been half-way to her mouth, Rachel gazed at him intensely; all traces of her earlier smile gone from her face. "Oh." She hesitated, and then said cautiously, "Blaine- Blaine doesn't get along well with his parents, does he?"

Kurt shook his head, his mouth set in a tight line. "They don't like that he's gay and barely keep in contact with him." He pushed his coffee aside with a frown. "His mom just looked so disapproving and indifferent when she spoke to us; it was like she was talking to an old friend or something, not her son." He ran a hand through his hair, something he used to rarely do since he spent so long styling it carefully. "She wasn't pleased to learn that Blaine and I are dating." He gave Rachel a small, twisted smile. "She looked pretty disgusted by it actually, and extremely disappointed, like a tiny part of her had still hoped that Blaine would bring home a girl one day."

Rachel looked horrified. "That's awful; I can't imagine having parents so unsupportive of who I am."

Kurt shook his head bitterly. "They are more than just unsupportive: they're mortified that Blaine is their son, and bitterly disappointed in him." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He could still scarcely believe that Blaine's parents treated him that way when he was such a talented, caring, sweet guy who had achieved so much, and achieved it all without any support from his family. He couldn't imagine getting to where he was today without the constant, unwavering love and support from his dad and - since junior year of high school - Carole. He had tried to handle bullying in high school by himself and hadn't managed for very long before he had had to tell his father what was going on. He couldn't begin to imagine how hard it must have been for Blaine to go through worse than him before he went to Dalton and have no one who cared.

"His mother asked us to visit her and his father over Thanksgiving," he told a disturbed-looking Rachel.

She gaped at him. "You can't be thinking of going?" Her forehead creased and her lips parted in horror when she saw Kurt's small shrug. "You can't be serious! They sound absolutely awful! They'll probably just insult you and talk about how wrong you both are!"

"Blaine wants to go - he said he's sick of running from his problems - so I'm going with him," Kurt stated simply, as if that was that. And it was; he would never consider letting Blaine go alone, he would always support him.

Seeing Rachel open her mouth about to argue, he shook his head. "We're going, Rachel," he told her firmly, his tone indicating that the matter was settled and there was nothing she could say that would change his mind.

There was a couple of minutes of silence where Rachel sipped at her coffee, her gaze flicking to Kurt every few seconds, her eyes troubled, and Kurt thought about Blaine and his parents.

Then Kurt rested his elbows on the table and lowered his head, running his hands through his hair again, dragging his fingers through it as if he were in pain. And he was in pain, pain at how Blaine's parents treated him.

"I just feel so bad for him, Rach," he whispered in anguish, startling Rachel out of her thoughts. "Since he was fourteen he's been on his own. I hate to think how horrible and scary that must have been, building up the courage to come out to his parents only for them to treat him like he had some form of contagious, fatal disease. And he was being harassed at school and no one cared."

He lifted his head to see Rachel watching him with wide eyes full of horror, anger, and sympathy.

He shook his head. "No one cared," he repeated, his voice breaking slightly, "not the teachers at the school, not his parents... It took him being badly beaten up for his parents to finally do something about it and send him to Dalton. Their way of showing that they do care: transferring him to a new school before people at his old one killed him," he said in a harsh, sarcastic voice. "Pity it took a hospital trip for them to show a little bit of concern for their son."

He shook his head wearily, suddenly feeling drained. "He had nobody during his rise to fame - no support or encouragement. He had nobody when he was touring around the world, only getting the occasional phone call from his mother who probably just likes to remind him how disappointed she is in him," he said bitterly. He met Rachel's eyes. "You know how small and ashamed you feel when someone says they're disappointed in you? It's a lot worse than someone being angry at you. Imagine your parents being disappointed in you every day since you were fourteen years old." He sighed heavily. "No one cared about him, Rach. I mean, he has friends, but they mostly live in other states and-" he broke off, blinking away tears.

"It's not the same," Rachel finished softly.

Kurt shook his head, still fighting back tears which turned the coffee shop into a blur of colour.

"At least he has you now," Rachel said, still in that same soft, quiet voice as if she were speaking to a timid animal she didn't want to frighten.

"Yeah," Kurt croaked. He bit down hard on his lip as self-hatred washed over him. "And I almost ended it and threw him away like I didn't care," he said despairingly.

Rachel's expression shifted and she reached across the table to place her hand over his, which he had been about to rub over his face in anguish. "Kurt, stop it," she said fiercely. "You made a mistake when you were frustrated and angry and had reached your limit thanks to those lying, money-grabbing, good-for-nothing members of the media." She gripped his hands tighter. "You made up, you still love each other, and you relationship is back on track. You need to put all of this behind you and stop torturing yourself over it, ok?" At Kurt's nod, she let go of his hands. "Everyone makes mistakes, Kurt," she said softly. "It's if you fix them and learn from them that matters."

Kurt forced a small smile. "And what I've learned is that I can't let a bunch of low-life reporters dictate how I live my life and that Blaine is more important to me than anything else."

Smiling, Rachel patted his hands and sat back in her chair, her expression clearing. "Exactly." She checked the time on her phone. "Glad to be of service to you, Mr. Hummel, but the session's over - we should get going."

Struggling to hold back a smile, he playfully hit his friend's arm before starting to gather his things together.

November arrived, bringing with it bitter winds and sheeting rain that fell in large, cold drops that dulled New York City of some of its beauty. The only brightness now was in the form of vibrantly coloured umbrellas in the hands of people rushing between shelters from the cold, wet weather and the ever-glowing lights of Times Square. On the days when the sun did make an appearance, often having to fight through heavy grey clouds, the damp streets glistened and water dripping from signposts and shop-front awnings sparkled like gemstones.

On these sunny days Central Park was one of Kurt's favourite places to visit. The soft light filtering through the crisp, russet leaves was a different colour everywhere he looked: golden yellows, warm oranges, soft reds. He would stroll through the park hand-in-hand with Blaine, cups of coffee warming their free hands, and bundled in coats and scarves against the biting wind.

They were able to go on these walks alone now - no longer needing a bodyguard unless they were going to an event - and the peace and tranquillity was something that was no longer just taken for granted, but treasured and enjoyed. They had never found out who had been the source to the media, but as weeks had gone by without an article being printed about them or paparazzi pestering them to the extent they used to, they had mostly shrugged the matter off and put it behind them. Sometimes, Kurt would still sit and think about it, wondering about who had slunk in the shadows of a tree that summer's day in Central Park and who had leaked private information to the media. And as he laid in bed hovering between wakefulness and sleep, his fingers absently trailing through Blaine's hair, the curls slipping and coiling around his fingers, the hunch that this source hadn't stopped, but was simply waiting, nagged persistently at him until he drifted to sleep.

This thought was nibbling away at Kurt again as he lounged on the couch in Blaine's apartment with Blaine's head in his lap as they watched TV a few days before they were leaving for Lima for Thanksgiving. The thought gnawed at him in a way that was difficult to ignore and he stewed over various possibilities of how someone could have found out some of the things that the media had printed, things that they had only ever shared with friends and Kurt's family. They wouldn't have told, so who did? Was it possible that someone had managed to spy on them?

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the knock on the door and it wasn't until Blaine shifted off him to go answer it that he realised someone was at the door.

He pulled himself from his musings when Blaine returned with George at his side.                                   

"Hey, Kurt!" he greeted with a bright smile as Blaine dropped back down on the couch. George sat down on an armchair, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on his knees. "I just came over to see if you guys wanted to come out tonight. Seth and the rest of the guys are coming."

Kurt glanced over at Blaine; he and Blaine had planned to start packing tonight and Blaine was going to cook dinner. Blaine met his gaze before turning to smile apologetically at George. "Sorry, but we already have plans."

George leaned further forwards in his chair, his eyes bright with curiosity. "What you guys up to?"

"I'm making dinner and then Kurt's going to help me pack," he said and Kurt smiled at the genuine happiness in his voice. To some people, including George, that wouldn't be an evening worthy of passing up an offer of a night out for, but Blaine loved nights in with the simple pleasures of having dinner together and watching a movie or, in tonight's case, packing for a trip. He loved the domesticity of it all, of having someone who loved him sit down for dinner with, shake his head fondly at the amount of hair gel he packed, and add more socks to his suitcase because it would be cold and he couldn't go around with bare ankles. Blaine hadn't had someone who cared about him like that in years, so it was special to him. Kurt loved the domesticity as well, the flashes of the future he would picture with himself and Blaine in twenty, thirty, forty years from now, still sharing the task of washing and drying the dishes, wedding rings glinting on their fingers. The same thought always came to him: ‘I want to spend the rest of my days like this with you,' and Blaine would meet his eyes and Kurt knew he was thinking the same thing.

As Kurt predicted, George scoffed at this. "You guys act like you're forty, not in your early twenties. Live a little!"

Blaine just shrugged and placed his hand on Kurt's knee, rubbing the bottom of his thigh with his thumb. Kurt said nothing to this either, knowing George would never understand why they preferred not to live as he did.

George shook his head. "So you're just staying in for the rest of the day?" he asked sceptically as if he didn't believe such a thing was possible.

"Yup," Blaine answered simply.

George eyed them for a moment, his pale blue eyes darting between the two of them in slight disbelief, then he shook his head. "What are your plans for Thanksgiving? Going to see your families?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, that's what we're packing for; we're both going to Lima on Monday."

A small frown creased George's forehead. "I thought your parents lived in Westerville, Blaine?"

Blaine's thumb stilled on Kurt's thigh. "They do," he replied stiffly. Kurt pressed his leg against Blaine's and his boyfriend relaxed again. "I'm spending Thanksgiving with Kurt and his family."

George was still for a moment in what Kurt took as surprise, and then he asked in a measured voice, "Aren't you seeing your family at all, then?"

It was a reasonable question, one that most people would ask in this situation, but for some reason Kurt frowned slightly at the drummer. His musings from earlier prodded insistently at him again, like they were trying to tell him something. George's eyes were unreadable as he listened to Blaine tell him how he and Kurt had run into his mother when they were in Lima and how she had invited them over during their Thanksgiving break in Lima. George was now saying something to Blaine in sympathetic tones, but there was something about his voice that was a little off, a little too controlled...Kurt couldn't quite pin down what it was.

As Blaine began to explain how he was sick of hiding from his parents, Kurt pushed away the idea that was forming in his head with a small shake of his head. George had been Blaine's friend for years; he would never do something like that.

The taxi drove through the streets of Lima on roads slick with rain under a heavy grey sky that promised more. The air that rushed to greet Blaine when he opened the door of the cab had the tang of future snow. Tugging his scarf - a new one that Kurt had bought him not long before they had left New York - closer to his throat, he got their suitcases from the trunk while Kurt paid the driver. The cab pulled away with a splash of tires on the wet road and Kurt led the way up to the front door of his family home, dodging the large drops of water that fell from the overhang.

"Hey, kiddo! How was the flight?"                                                                                                                                   

Blaine smiled as he watched Burt hug Kurt. If he had been younger this scene would have triggered a mix of emotions in him: jealousy, a great sadness, regret, and anger at both himself and his father - but mostly himself. Now that he had effectively left his family and no longer cared what they thought or felt, now that he no longer had that deep hope and wish that they would someday accept, love, and care for him again, he just felt glad that Kurt had a father like Burt.

"Good to see you again, Blaine," Burt greeted him, his voice sincere. He pulled Blaine into a hug as well and he stiffened in surprise, before relaxing and returning the embrace.

He was greeted by Carole with a kiss on the cheek when Burt stepped back and then they entered the house.

"The flight was fine," Kurt said as they dumped their cases in the hallway. "There were paparazzi at the airport in New York, but it was nothing like the numbers we used to get following us." A brief frown flitted across his face. "I don't think they were there because they knew we would be. I think they were just hanging around the airport in hopes that they would catch somebody to photograph." He shrugged. "Thanksgiving, you know."

They had a hot drink and caught up with the latest in each other's lives, before Kurt and Blaine took their bags upstairs to Kurt's bedroom, Burt having allowed them to share Kurt's bed providing they remembered what he had said last time they were here.

"We're never going to be allowed to forget that," Kurt groaned as he unzipped his suitcase and began pulling clothes out. "Finn especially won't let us."

Blaine tossed a smirk at him over his shoulder as he put clothes away in the drawers Kurt had shown him. "I don't want to forget it and I'm not at all pleased that you do."

Kurt threw a hat at his head which he snagged out of the air, still smirking as Kurt attempted to hold back a smile. "You know what I mean," he said. He walked over to Blaine and took his hat back. "What you're talking about is something I will never be able to forget and never want to," he whispered in Blaine's ear, his voice low and seductive. Blaine shivered and Kurt pressed a kiss to the line of his jaw. "Remember what my dad said," he told him with a laugh at his expression as he moved back to continue unpacking.

They finished unpacking in near-silence, but it was comfortable. Afterwards, they lay side-by-side on the bed, one of Blaine's legs thrown over Kurt's which emphasized the difference in length and made Blaine's leg look childishly short. Kurt was playing with Blaine's hair - something he loved doing and that Blaine loved having him do - while Blaine traced Kurt's arm with his fingers: the swell and curves of his bicep, the map of veins visible beneath the pale skin on the inside of his forearm, and the soft, delicate skin inside his elbow and on his wrist. They talked about nothing in particular and were so peaceful and content that they both jumped when Blaine's phone rang.

Huffing in annoyance, Blaine sat up to grab it from where he had tossed it on the bed so it wouldn't dig into him as he laid down. "It's Charlie," he told Kurt who was still reclined and watching him with curious eyes.

"Hey, Charlie," he greeted his manager, grinning when Kurt pulled him back down beside him.

"I know you're on holiday, so I'll keep this call short," Charlie said. He paused briefly - Kurt ran a finger down Blaine's nose with a smile, before pressing it against Blaine's lips for a moment. Blaine kissed the fingertip with a grin as Charlie spoke again.

"The media knows you're in Lima spending Thanksgiving with Kurt's family; an article was published about it online less than an hour ago along with pictures of you two at the airport."

Blaine's smile vanished and he froze. Kurt's face creased with concern and his hand on Blaine's chest stilled. "Wh-" Blaine began.

"I don't know how," Charlie admitted apologetically. "Same as it was before, I guess, information from a ‘source'."

Blaine sighed - he had hoped this was over, though at least this article wasn't on anything bad.

"I just wanted you to be aware that they knew so you're prepared to maybe run into some paparazzi while you're in Lima."

Blaine nodded. "Thanks, Charlie."

"No problem, have a good holiday."

"Yeah, you too."

He ended the call and tossed the phone aside. Kurt was still watching him with eyes full of puzzlement and concern. "What is it?" he asked.

Blaine sighed again and drew Kurt against him, pressing their bodies together. "The media knows we're spending Thanksgiving here with your family. They quoted a source again."

Kurt sighed as well, rubbing his nose against Blaine's. "Do you think some of them will track us down here?"

Blaine stroked Kurt's face and wished he could say a different answer and know that there was no way their holiday would be shadowed by paparazzi. "Maybe." He kissed Kurt softly. "Maybe, but hopefully not."

"Maybe," Kurt repeated quietly, not sounding very hopeful. Blaine didn't blame him for it and knew there was no point in trying to give him false hope, so instead he pressed closer and held him tighter.