Sniff.

Blaine tucked himself into a corner booth at the Plaza Boulangerie with a dark, black coffee and an untouched croissant long before the line of waking tourists had formed.

He had enough on his mind to let it clutter and block itself out, allowing him to sit there, aimlessly watching birds scavenge for worms and picnic remains in the heart of Sonoma Square.

Sniff.

"You stink."

Sniff sniff.

"Seriously, Anderson. I get the whole man smell, but this is a whole new level of..."

Blaine looked up and tilted his head slightly, the face staring at him scarcely registering. The thigh-high boots and Burberry trench threw him for a moment.

"Oh. Santana. Isnt it a little early for you?"

Santana Lopez may have lived and worked in the middle of an agricultural district, but she routinely dressed for Union, not Sonoma, Square - dressing to impress even when there was no one on the horizon worth impressing.

"Pre-office caffeine fix. Whats your excuse?" she said, a little more than her usual morning edge to her voice. "You know, Id swear thats sex hair except I know your boy isnt due back ‘til this afternoon, and that rumpled shirt says bender."

Blaine waited a moment before answering.

"Hes home."

Santanas eyes grew large.

"Oh?" she asked. "Oooh." She peeled off her coat and settled into the seat across from Blaine.  "What happened, pobrecito?"

Blaine chewed on his lip and shook his head. He set his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together until he could rest his chin on his thumbs. He sat quietly for a moment, thinking.

"This isnt the way it was supposed to be," he said quietly. "Every day is... Its just a struggle, every goddamned day. We have a good moment, but then something falls apart. Then it starts all over again. I love him. I cant imagine being without him, but we never seem to find... balance."

Santana set her jaw and narrowed her eyes, looking for all the world like she was giving Blaines words deep, serious consideration. She looked that way right up until the point when laughter bubbled up from her gut. She threw her head back and rolled her eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she said, sputtering out the words. "Balance? Is that what this ‘woe is me crap is all about?"

"Santana, this isnt a joke," Blaine hissed. ""Its like were completely out of sync."

"Welcome to marriage, Mr. Hummel-Anderson."

Blaine looked dumfounded, silenced by Santanas mirth. She reached across the table and grabbed his coffee cup, sneaking a slurp.

"Ugh! Its cold. I need a minute."

She strutted up to the coffee bar, ordered two large skinny lattes and returned before Blaine could steel himself against her verbal onslaught.

"There we are. Much better - where were we?" She blew at her coffee absent-mindedly. "Oh yeah - youre an idiot."

Blaine rubbed at his temple. "You make the world a beautiful place, you know," he said caustically.

Santana reached across the table and slapped him lightly upside the head.

"Get over yourself. You want to know what marriage looks like? Its ugly, my friend. Its ugly and its work. Its not all romance and hot ass. You gonna eat this?" she asked, reaching for his untouched croissant before he could answer. She turned it over in her hands, looking for an end seam to tug at.

 "My parents were married over 30 years when mom died. During the day it was all ‘yes, dear and ‘no, dear, but after we went to bed at night we could hear them fight like cats and dogs, and over stupid shit: taking out the trash, forgetting to pick up milk at the market, the old truck with the funky transmission, why Tía Sofia had to visit as often as she did. Stuff like that. All the damn time."

"Not all marriages are like that," Blaine mumbled.

"Im not done," Santana continued, pausing only long enough to nibble at the pastry.

"When my mom died, Papi was heartbroken; he didnt know what to do without her. Its like his spirit was gone. He was quiet, and my Papi was not a quiet man. He cried sometimes - in front of us. He never did that before. Then he started to lose weight. A little over a year later, he was gone. My brothers and me, we didnt realize how close our parents were until that."

Blaine looked up to her, concern creasing his forehead.

"See, Blaine? The fights? Theyre part of the deal. Its hard. Its supposed to be hard. It doesnt mean its not good. So when the really tough stuff happens, you know youve got someone whos got your back. My folks? They knew that."

She peeled another layer of croissant, inspecting it momentarily before popping it in her mouth.  She washed it down with a slurp of coffee and took Blaines hand.

"Now, I dont know what problems you think the two of youre having, but sometimes problems arent really problems. Theyre just... Monday, you know? And you have to talk and sometimes you have to fight, but at least then you have an excuse for makeup sex."

Santana waggled her eyebrows. Blaine finally exhaled, and allowed himself a brief chuckle.

"Thank you, Doctor Lopez."

"Ill send you my bill. Better yet, you can pay me back by letting me put you on the Bureau ballot."

"No."

"Come on, Blaine. You know it has to be you. Everybodys talking ‘Rhapsody this and ‘Anderson that since that contest," Santana pleaded. "You and Rhapsody raised this valleys stock."

Blaine shot her a withering glance, and shook his head no.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" he said. "If its about leadership, I already do plenty around here - and you know it. I dont need the ceremonial stuff. I dont want it."

"But you guys have sort of become the face of Sonoma winemaking... 

"Us guys?" Blaine said. His eyes came to life, darting around the room. He brought his hand to his mouth, and then looked up at Santana, looking like a kid about to make serious mischief. "This board spot doesnt have to be the winemaker, right? Just someone representing the winery."

"The owner would be nice," Santana said. "Oh.

"Ooh."

****

Hours later, Blaine was greeted with a scowl as he stumbled through the front door, juggling grocery bags and a dozen red roses.

Kurt stood at the far end of the room, near the kitchen- his arms folded, his eyes red, his demeanor chilly.

"You left your phone behind," he said, his voice flat. "I called all over looking for you."

"Im sorry," Blaine said.

He set the bags down on the entry table and stepped toward Kurt.

"Where were you?"

Kurt folded his body in on itself, uninviting to contact.

"I just needed to be by myself for awhile. Im sorry."

Blaine tentatively stepped closer.

"Santana called a couple of hours ago. She said shed seen you."

"Yes."

"She was surprised you werent back yet. Where were you? You worried me."

"Nothing to worry about. I just had some things to do."

He stepped closer still, ducking his head slightly, a move that normally looked shy, but in the moment simply read guilty.

"Things to do? On the day that we were just going to be?" Kurt said, the words biting.

Blaine stopped in front of him. Kurt, normally all pomade and polish, look haggard and exhausted.

"Can we put these in water and maybe put the groceries away? Then well talk, I promise," Blaine said, handing him the flowers.

Kurt nodded, took the bouquet and turned toward the kitchen to look for a vase.

"Get the groceries," he said without looking back.

****

Blaine sat cross-legged, back against the couch, fumbling with a rubber band he had found on the floor. He didnt raise his eyes.

Kurt kept his distance. From his chair several feet away, he alternated between  glaring at Blaine and staring off at the Christmas tree when he needed a distraction.

"So, you want to explain this?"

"I just snapped," Blaine answered.

"I noticed."

"I just felt youd pushed too..."

"This is my fault?"

"Im not saying that, Kurt. I just wanted a day with no pressure, and then there were questions, and..."

"You just snapped."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence, neither quite ready with the right words to move forward.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

Blaine took a breath, and marshaled his strength for a question he didnt want to ask.

"Are you thinking about taking that job?"

Kurts jaw dropped, just a little, just enough to give Blaine an areyoucrazy look.

"Is that what this is about? Really? Have I ever said that I was going to do that? That I was taking it seriously?"

"You never said you werent, Kurt. You said it was a good opportunity, but I dont know if youve said yes or no, or if you said anything at all."

"No, Im not taking the job. Yes, its a good opportunity. Yes, I miss work. And yeah, I kind of miss the city sometimes, but you know what, Blaine? This is my home - here, with you. And you know what else? This isnt the first time Ive told you. So I think the real question is, when are you going to believe me?"

The news may have been good, may have been what Blaine wanted to hear, but the words were delivered with enough heat to render him mute.

"What were you thinking, storming off like that? Not coming back for hours? Not letting me know you were okay? What was I supposed to think? After I reached Santana, I nearly called the police I was so worried."

"Im sorry."

"I got that."

"Can I explain?" Blaine asked.

"Ive been waiting for months..."

Blaine straightened out his legs, stretching his toes out and leaning his head back against the cushion, while he gathered his thoughts.

"This has been such an adjustment," he said. "You know - us, marriage. So much of this came together so easily that when we hit a bump, I didnt know what to do - except what I normally do."

"Which is?" Kurt asked.

Blaine scratched at his temple, running a hand through his hair. "Keep it to myself, I guess. Let it roll by, duck and cover."

Kurt shook his head in disbelief.

"Why would you do that? Im your husband."

Blaine shrugged, and looked down.

"Because thats how Ive always gotten by, I guess."

"Thats what your brother says, by the way," Kurt said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "Why dont you ever talk about them?"

"Kurt..."

Kurt leaned in, intent, resting his weight forward, elbows to knees, focused on Blaine.

"Im not asking you to mend fences. Im sure you have your reasons. I just want to hear them, and more importantly, to know why you seem to feel you cant talk to me about it."

"I dont talk about it with anyone," Blaine said briskly.

"You told me some of it, you know, when we first met, and when I had to write that column about you. But you left things out, didnt you?"

Blaine pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. But he said nothing.

Kurt rose from his chair and crossed the room, sliding to the floor alongside him.

 "You can tell me," he said quietly.

Blaine looked up. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, looked swollen and dull.

"This" he said, looking around the room, "this wasnt supposed to be."

"What do you mean?"

"You know I didnt go to school to study winemaking, not originally."

"You changed majors, I know. You told me about the conditions of your trust. You met them."

"In the eyes of the attorneys, I met my obligations. In the eyes of my family, I cheated them out of their money. All except Cooper. He understood."

Slowly, Blaine found his words and his confidence. He let the story spill out, of a coddled childhood, the best schools, of plans for his future that never belonged to him, of a way out that weighed on his conscience years after his decision had been made.

"I was supposed to be Sebastian Smythe," Blaine said, nodding absently.

"What do you mean?"

"In some ways, Sebastian and I arent so different. We went to the best schools. He had an education that was all about being groomed to take over his family business. That was me, too. If itd been up to my dad, I would have gone to business school, or law school, or gotten a degree in economics. Thats the son my parents wanted - driven, ambitious - ready to rule the world."

"Youre driven."

"Not like him. Not like Sebastian. Thats where we part ways."

"You wanted to go into music back then..."

"Yeah, I did. And in hindsight, they were probably right. It was foolish. What kind of career would I have had? Maybe they saved me from myself. I was a good student, did well in math and science. But I loved the arts. I excelled in science, but I loved the arts. They told me if I wanted to go to college for a silly dream, then I could foot the bill myself. But science? Math? Something respectable? Theyd cut the check for that."

"You met their terms, Blaine. Why are you acting like youre so ashamed of this?"

"I didnt want that life. I didnt. But I didnt have the balls to stand up for myself, to say no. I wanted my life."

Keeping his hands folded together in his lap, Kurt leaned gently into Blaine, nudging shoulders. "Whats wrong with that?"

"I wanted the money, too." Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt. "Im no saint."

Kurt reached for his hand, holding it lightly, softly tracing a pattern across Blaines knuckles.

"You dont take over a pharmaceutical company with a degree in oenology and viticulture, Kurt. So they challenged my claim to my trust. The arbitrator sided with me. I got my money. I moved here.

"My father sees what I did with that trust as dishonest, deceitful. My mom thought I was being rebellious. I saw it as a ticket out of a life someone else was trying to plan for me. That company? My grandfather started it. He was a doctor who stumbled across a new drug. He traded in his practice for a lab, and built a company. When he retired, my dad took over and took it public. I was the heir apparent. I was supposed to run it some day. But you know where I would have been if Id stuck with the plan, Kurt, if Id been a good boy and gone along with it? In New York? In a suit?

"Maybe even in jail."

"What?" Kurts grip on Blaines hand tightened.

"My dad was accused of insider trading, about a year after I moved here. It damaged his reputation. The stock price plummeted. But time and good legal and PR teams can fix just about anything, right? He got off - negotiated a deal."

"Did he do it?"

"I dont really know. I never asked," Blaine said. "It just hits a little too close to home. I mean - like father, like son, right?"

"You cant compare the two, Blaine."

Kurt pulled Blaines hand to his lips, and kissed his knuckles, one by one.

"Maybe not," Blaine said, resting his head on Kurts shoulder. "But everything I have is based on the fact that I kind of tricked the family out my trust. And I cant help but wonder where Id be today if Id gone along with their plans. I sure wouldnt have been here."

"You wouldnt have a vineyard," Kurt said. "Or this house."

"Or you," Blaine said.

"Is that why you dont want Rhapsody to grow?"

"Its growing," Blaine said.

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe. I know the big wineries never felt right to me. This is more my style. Im comfortable, just like this."

Blaine curled into Kurts side, the warmth of Kurts body and the dim glow of the Christmas tree lights serving to release the tension that had been building for weeks.

"I know its been a little rocky, Kurt, but Im trying. This is new to me, you know. Im probably going to screw things up from time to time."

"Its new to me, too. But I dont run away from my problems," Kurt said.

Blaine raised his head from Kurts shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, you do. Maybe not the same way I do, but you do."

****