Blaine crammed three days of work into one, making room in his schedule so he could dedicate 48 hours to doing nothing. Specifically, he wanted to spend 48 hours doing nothing and everything with his husband, who was due to return from the east coast in just under 24 hours.

It had been six days since Kurt left for New York, and Blaine felt an even greater void than he had expected, more pronounced than the handful of times Kurt had hit the road without him.

You could have gone, he told himself. Days on your own, nights with your husband. A chance to keep things in check. You idiot.

It was too late to do anything about it, of course, but the daily texts and calls and occasional Skype sessions - even the one a few nights ago, the one that ended in sweat, and come, and breathless encouragement for more and faster - did little to alter his frame of mind.

With only a day left before Kurts return, he threw himself into work - killing the hours, avoiding the trade associations and competitors and friends with agendas that had become such distractions in his life.

He cleaned an already spotless house. He cut fresh flowers from a garden so warmed by sunshine that it failed to recognize it should not be blooming. He wrapped a gift he had bought after seeing it in a thrift store window earlier in the week, buying it for no reason other than it just seemed right.

But he spent the bulk of his day working alongside the vineyard crew, cutting back spent Syrah vines into row-upon-row of parallel Ts, preparing them for the next years growth.

He held back good stock, snipping tendrils away, leaving little more than a foot or two of stick that he submerged in a jug of water in the back of his truck, then dipped in root starter and stuck alongside dozens of other similarly-sized sticks in plastic pots of mulch. In a few months, the rooted stick would bud out and become the starter shoots for the last acres of Rhapsodys expansion.

Even with Ranchera and Banda music blasting from the vineyard crews truck, Blaine found a rare sense of peace on the hillside, the sort of private moment he once considered routine that allowed him to clear his head - and that had evaporated in the wake of his post-Taste Challenge notoriety.

He drove the pots down to the barn, where they would make their home for the next several months, connected to a lifeline of drip irrigation and soaking up the sunshine off the structures west-facing wall.

By mid-afternoon, he had sequestered himself in the cave - a cool, stone-lined room carved into a hillside used for storing and aging wines not yet ready for distribution. He reorganized cases of young reds - the Mezzo, Appassionato and Sotto Voce - to clear room for the next round of freshly bottled wine.

The work was in keeping with his mood - a chance to get tasks done, stay ahead of schedule, and not bother with the outside world. It was just himself, his thoughts and a few thousand cases of wine, occasionally supervised by a curious sheepdog. And his thoughts were squarely aimed at getting enough work done so he wouldnt have to concentrate on the winery for a few days.

With the help of a hydraulic cart, he shifted palates around the softly lit subterranean room.  In the distance, he could hear a vehicle come to a stop on the road. It idled briefly - probably the guys wrapping up for the day - and continued on. Minutes later, he heard footsteps at the cave entrance, and thought little of it.

"Hey, Manny," Blaine called out without turning around. "What time are you and the guys going to get here tomorrow? Cause Ill be in the city picking up Kurt."

"Oh, I dont think that will be necessary," a soft voice said behind him.

Blaine turned, his face quizzical, then bright. Leaning against the door was an unmistakable figure backlit by the afternoon sun - all broad shoulders, lean hips and impossibly tall hair.

"Kurt?"

"I was looking for the owner, but I bumped into the crew and they told me Rhapsodys private."

Blaine tried hard to bite back his smile.

"How did you talk them into letting you down here?" he said, playing along.

Kurt moved slowly across the room, hands clasped behind his back, like a skater taking a slow warm-up lap. As far as Blaine was concerned, that walk was one of the sexiest things hed ever seen.

"Well, I told them that I had an offer the owner couldnt refuse," Kurt said, nudging in close to Blaine.

"Like the Godfather?"

Kurt brushed his hand along the soft placket of Blaines denim shirt, circling each button.

"Think of it as a proposition," he said. "And I told the crew that I bet they would be able to take tomorrow morning off if the owner accepted."

He leaned in closer, brushing the tips of their noses, and then resting their cheeks together.

"They seemed to be persuaded by that," he whispered in Blaines ear.

"You can be very persuasive," Blaine said, closing his eyes.

"You have no idea," Kurt said. His lips lingered at Blaines ear lobe, leaving a ghosted breath across Blaines neck.

Blaine leaned back, jutting his neck forward just enough to capture Kurts lips, which drew a moist trail down Blaines neck, across his clavicle and back up a centered line from Adams apple to chin, pausing before lips finally met lips.

"I sure hope youre the owner, because otherwise my efforts will have been wasted."

"Id hardly say that," Blaine said, erupting in a grin, cupping Kurts cheeks with his hands and kissing him firmly. "Welcome home."

"Mmmm. So good to be back," Kurt said, sinking into the kiss.

They lingered in their embrace; dotting lips to cheeks, soft exhales to eyelids, tongues to necks. "So glad youre home," Blaine said between kisses. "But how did you..."

"Missed you," Kurt interrupted. He reached around Blaines waist and pulled him close. "Worth the change fee."

"I missed you, too," Blaine murmured, "but maybe we should go to the house?"

"Heres fine," Kurt said, his voice growing gravelly. He slid his thigh snugly between Blaines legs and then his hands dipped lower, grabbing Blaines ass and pulling him closer still.

"But the guys..."

"Are gone for the day," Kurt whispered. "I told you... I let them go. Not back til mid-day tomorrow."

His hands began to meander freely - touching Blaines waist, caressing his stomach and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

Blaine felt his senses overloading with touch, scent, and taste. But instead of falling into it completely, his mind focused on being unprepared for Kurts early arrival. There was work to finish, sheets to change, mental preparations to secure. His mind wasnt ready for this, but his body didnt care.

"Kurt..."

Kurt leaned into Blaine, pushing him against the cases stacked against the wall. "Sshh. Talk later," he said, pulling back just enough to get both his hands at Blaines shirt, unbuttoning it rapidly, then moving down until he reached he waistband of Blaines well-worn jeans.

He popped the button, then let his fingers drift across Blaines crotch - outlining his cock, straining for a zipper that wasnt there.

"Oh, somebody went old school today," Kurt said, grinning.

"Hmm?"

"My, how I do love an old pair of 501s."

"My work jeans -"

"Call em what you will. I just have a fine appreciation for a pair of shrink-to-fit button fly Levis."

Kurt kissed Blaine insistently, tasting the sweaty salt from his neck.

"I want to blow you right here. And then we can go up to the house, and take this to the bedroom. And if we have the energy after that, you can make me dinner, and we can talk about my trip. But what I really want right now is my mouth on you. Is that okay?"

Blaine leaned his head back, eyes closed, and nodded.

"Yes."

Kurt dropped to his knees.

Button by button, he opened Blaines jeans with anxious hands, pulling them down just a few inches. Just enough.

Eyes closed, he dusted the length of Blaines cock with the tip of his nose, breathing in the musky scent. He followed with his lips, the same trail, lingering at the head. He hooked his thumbs into either side of the blue briefs and pulled them down slowly to join the jeans along Blaines thighs.

The sudden chill caused Blaine to gasp, and reach for Kurt, catching him by his hair and pulling him close.

Kurt kissed the base of Blaines cock, reveling in it. He traced the solid vein from base to head, then ran it firmly along the slit. And then he took him in his mouth, slowly, teasingly - a brief suck, only to pull off with a kiss.

"Kurt, please. Its cold in here."

Blaine could hear Kurt snicker, and opened his eyes to see him flash a wicked smile before taking Blaine fully into his mouth. Kurt reached around Blaines hips as if to give him a cue, pulling him deeper, then pushing him away as he sucked. He had to repeat the move only once before Blaine caught on, gripping Kurts head for leverage.

"Fuck... Kurt... faster."

He could feel Kurt smile around his cock.

"Not funny, Kurt."

Kurt worked him harder, reaching a hand around the base of Blaines cock, adding a stroke as he focused on the head. All the while, he seemed to stifle chuckles as Blaine babbled and moaned.

"Close, Kurt. Kurt...

He felt the tightness build, almost too fast. He came before Kurt could pull off, though Kurt showed little sign of wanting that. They remained frozen for moments after he came - Blaine unsteady on his feet, and Kurt easing Blaine from his mouth as he came down from his high.

Blaine rolled his head back, resting it against the stacked boxes, his body gone limp. He closed his eyes and let a satisfied smile sweep over his lips.

"You have the happiest orgasm face Ive ever seen," Kurt said. "Not that Ive seen that many..."

Blaine opened one eye, raising an eyebrow in judgmental doubt.

"Of course not. God, Kurt, if I knew thats what coming home did to you, I would have encouraged you to travel more often. Come here."

With a groan and some help from Blaines extended hand, Kurt rose to his feet. He reached down to help Blaine pull his briefs and jeans back up, and then carefully rebuttoned the fly for him.

"What about you?" Blaine asked. "I feel a little selfish here."

"Back at the house," Kurt said with a brief kiss. "If we go for round two here, I may never be able to drag your ass back home."

Kurt rested their foreheads together, and took Blaines hand. Besides, its about to get dark out, and we have a lot of catching up to do."

****

Hours later, they found themselves unwilling to concede a need to eat, to get up, to shower - choosing instead to tangle feet and fingers, to keep their bodies close even if their thoughts were far apart.

The bedroom was awash in the orange and purple hues of the day becoming night. Blaine stretched out on his back, eyes half-closed. Kurt curled into his side, his hand on Blaines chest, a pillow for his chin as he watched his husband struggle to stay awake.

"Youre watching me again, arent you?" Blaine mumbled without bothering to open his eyes. "Go to sleep."

"Its too early to sleep," Kurt said. "We should eat­... and talk."

Blaine opened his eyes for a moment, looking at the ceiling, then silently rolled his head away to one side.

"Mmm. Must we?"

"Blaine?"

"Mmm."

"You awake?"

"I am now."

Kurt drew soft, aimless patterns across Blaines chest with his fingers. It was a habit that usually left him calm and sated.

"Its been quite a week," Kurt said.

"Mmm-hmm."

"I had a lot of meetings."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Of course, there was the meeting with Quinn."

"Hmm."

"Do you want to hear about it?"

"What about it?"

"I just thought we should talk," Kurt said, "about Taste."

"What havent we talked about? You went. Quinn wants you back. It would be an even heavier workload than before. What else?"

"She wants to reboot the wine section."

"So youve said."

"With more writers."

"That someone has to manage."

"Yes," Kurt said. "And hire."

"Did you tell her no?" Blaine asked.

Kurt paused, his hands still drifting across skin.

"Not exactly."

Blaine opened his eyes.

"Kurt?"

The room was silent. Blaine turned his head back, looking at Kurt.

"You didnt agree, did you?"

Blaine sat up abruptly, adjusting a pillow to prop himself up. Kurt took his hand, using his thumb to rub circles on Blaines palm. He took a moment, before he spoke.

"Before I left, you asked if I was happy. Youve asked it a lot, in a lot of different ways. And I didnt think much of it, other than I had this wonderful husband who just wanted me to be happy, so I just kept answering the same way: Of course I am. Of course.

"But you kept asking the same question, and I kept answering the same way and I didnt realize until this week that maybe we had the wrong question and the wrong answer."

Blaine blinked, his forehead creased in confusion and tension.

"Blaine, its not about whether Im happy. Its about whether Im complete. We jumped into this so fast, and for me, it was like being up here," Kurt said, raising a hand far above his head. "And jumping without a parachute. I have this great life, in this beautiful place, with this incredible man... but its not my life, not completely."

"Yes it is..."

"No, its yours. Im part of your life, and a big part of it. I know that, just as you are mine. But when I stopped and thought about it, I realized that Im part of this larger whole for you - the vineyard, the wine, the business, the marriage. But for me, its all about you. The work I am doing all revolves around you, and Rhapsody, and this life - this wonderful life - but theres nothing in it thats uniquely mine."

Blaine stared at Kurt, as if looking intently would somehow help him comprehend words he was having difficulty following. Kurts hold on his hand tightened.

"Im not saying this right, I know. I love you. My heart is full, but my life isnt. Im happy with you. But Im not sure Im happy with me. Everything I do revolves around your business and your home and your troubles, and Im here to support you, but I had a career that Id built, that I succeeded on my own and its gone now."

"It didnt have to be," Blaine said.

"It doesnt have to be," Kurt added.

"What are you saying? Are you thinking about taking Quinn up on this?"

"Im thinking that I should consider it, or that I at least need to figure this out. I think we need to figure it out, together. We both know Im no winemaker, and I havent done much of anything about rebuilding my career. And I need to."

Blaine said nothing, but his pulse quickened and his breath felt heavy, labored.

"This affects you too, Blaine. And you know it. Youve been moody and unpredictable lately, and it all seems to come back to this."

"Thats not true."

"I know you have other pressures. I know you have things that are bothering you, but theyre materializing here, with us. I want to help. I want to understand why these things eat at you the way they do. And I realized that I dont, that theres a big part of my husbands character thats still kind of a mystery to me.

"So I went to see Cooper."

"What does my brother have to do with this?"

"I went to see Cooper because I thought maybe he could help me understand you better. I want to understand you better. Thats the thing, Blaine. I realized that I dont understand you the way I should. But what I found out is that my husband has left some big gaps in his history, even with me."

The room was cast in the darkened shadows of twilight. Neither had made an effort to turn on a light, and neither would.

"So, what did he tell you? What great mystery did he unlock?"

 "No great mystery, Blaine. He did tell me a version of your college history that was a bit more - detailed - than what youd shared with me. And he said there were other things about your family that you should tell me."

"There are some things I dont talk about," Blaine said.

"Im your husband. If you cant talk to me..."

"Things that are in the past are in the past, Kurt. I dont dwell on them." 

"I dont think thats true at all," Kurt said. "If youre going to marry someone, dont you think you should trust them enough to tell them who you are?"

****