Kurt woke up slowly. His face was pressed against his pillow, and he was comfortable and warm, pleasantly so. He could feel the softness of his sheets against his bare back, and he refused to open his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the glory of the last few seconds of unconsciousness.

He shifted slightly, only enough to bury himself deeper into the mattress, and that caused his cock to grace against it, ripping a moan from him. He hadn't noticed he was hard and aching, but once the arousal hit, he couldn't ignore the urgency coursing through his body.

Still with his eyes closed, Kurt reached towards the left side of the bed, blindly looking for the man next to him. There was nothing Kurt loved more than lazy morning sex – the slowness of it, how they usually draw it out to make it last, trading luscious kisses first that soon would grow in intensity until their bodies were burning for more. If neither had to work that day, they would spend a few hours in bed, allowing hands and mouths to roam for as long as they wanted to. Kurt could spend hours just lapping at the sensitive spot on Mark's torso, the one that turned him into a puddle of desire and breathy moans.

However, his fingertips only touched the cool sheets. The left side of his bed was empty, and finding that emptiness felt like getting hit by a truck – the memories and the reality came back so quickly that it was as if all the air in his lungs evaporated, leaving him gaping for breath.

He opened his eyes and glanced towards the side where he had found Mark sleeping next to him the past few years. It wasn't the first time since his death that Kurt woke up confused and convinced he would find his fiancé there. Still, it didn't matter how many times it happened – the disappointment and the pang of pain in his chest were always sharp and -strong.

Even though Kurt's heart had gotten the message, it seemed like his body did not. He was still hard, and when he shifted to look up at the ceiling, even the faintest touch of the mattress or the sheets made his body shudder in desperation. He and Mark had used to be intimate on a very regular basis, and it seemed like his body didn't understand that the man who satisfied its every need wasn't there anymore. It kept yearning for Mark's touch as if nothing had happened.

Kurt ignored his aching erection and got out of bed, walking straight into the bathroom. He was getting used to taking extremely cold showers every morning.

*

November brought busy days for Kurt. He was getting ready for the Christmas sales, so he was working more than ever. It was a fantastic excuse to keep himself occupied and to push any non-work-related thoughts far, far away.

“You look particularly cranky today,” Anna commented, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorway, watching Kurt finish the hem on a dress. “Everything alright?”

Kurt had woken up that morning after a very heated sex dream, but as soon as he had taken himself in hand, his head was filled with memories – images of him and Mark tangled together in the sheets, bodies moving in harmony, pleasure ripping through their veins. He had forced himself to stop, but the cold shower that followed didn't help. He would need to look for a better technique.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just want to finish this.”

“Do you want me to get you a coffee?” She offered kindly. Kurt glanced at her. Today, her hair was purple and it clashed spectacularly with her furiously red lips.

“No, thanks.”

His tone was so biting that she raised her hands in sign of peace, before turning around and walking out of the office. Kurt felt bad – Anna was a doll, and he could always count on her for everything. But he couldn't contain himself. He was in a terrible mood, confused and aching deep down inside.

He didn't know how to deal with being sexually frustrated and practically a widower at the same time. Somehow, he felt like he was a bad person for feeling like this – there were so many other things he missed about Mark, and sex wasn't that important, even though it had been fantastic. He couldn't stop his body from focusing on the lack of intimacy and satisfaction, but he wished he could deal with it a little better.

He felt so guilty and disgusting whenever he tried to touch himself and find relief, and thinking about Mark seemed to make it all worse. He had been a very attractive man who had known exactly which buttons to push to take Kurt to the edge and make him explode, but he was gone. Mark was dead. And Kurt couldn't jerk off to his dead fiancé.

God, he was so sick.

He bit his lip and shook his head. He would get through this. It wasn't the worst part of this. If Kurt had managed to survive the past two months without Mark, then he could live without sex just fine.

*

Kurt poured himself a bit more wine and sat back against the couch. “If she picks the first house, then she's an idiot,” he said, his eyes already fixed on the television. He and Blaine were catching up on some of their favorite reality shows after a very long week.

Blaine, however, wasn't exactly active in the conversation. He hummed in response in a way that Kurt wasn't sure if he was agreeing or disagreeing.

Kurt turned to him. “Are you alright? You've been really quiet.”

“Fine,” Blaine downed the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle.

“Are you sure?” Kurt insisted. He knew Blaine too well – when he wasn't smiling, chatting and being his overly enthusiastic adorable self, then something was clearly wrong.

“Yeah, just band stuff. Don't worry about it,” Blaine shrugged, but Kurt could see he was actually upset.

“Hey, come on. You know you can talk to me about it,” Kurt reached for the remote and paused the show, ignoring Blaine's protests. “Did they reject one of your songs again? If they did, they're idiots. You're the most talented songwriter I know.”

“I'm the only songwriter you know, Kurt,” Blaine retorted with a little smile.

“So? I don't need to know anyone else to know you are the best,” Kurt replied, placing a hand on Blaine's knee and squeezing encouragingly.

Blaine sighed and ran a hand down his face tiredly. “We've had a lot of disagreements lately. Theo's father asked him to help at the family business, so we had to cancel a bunch of rehearsals. We haven't booked as many events as we usually do, so money's a little tight, and everyone's a bit on edge because of it. And Jimmy says he's sick of playing bar mitzvahs and weddings anyway, that we'll never get anywhere playing there…”

“Come here,” Kurt patted his lap invitingly and Blaine gratefully slid down until he could rest his head on it. Kurt began massaging his scalp, working his fingers through his curls. “What does Georgina say?”

“Not much, really. But I think she agrees with Jimmy,” Blaine said, letting his eyes fall shut. “We really aren't getting anywhere, but we still haven't figured out a way to do what we love while being able to pay the bills with it…”

“Maybe you can try touring around the bars in the area? That will make them a little happier and you'll reach a broader audience,” Kurt suggested thoughtfully. “Keep booking events, though, if it's a good source of income. I know of a lot of restaurants that like to hire bands to offer little concerts for their patrons while they're having dinner. I could try to call some of Mark's friends… I know a few of them owned places that would be perfect for that…”

Blaine smiled up at him. “You don't have to. We should figure this out on our own. And I don't want to commit to anything new if we don't know if the drummer will make it…” He paused and exhaled. “I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who stills gives a damn about it.”

Kurt leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I'm sorry things aren't working out like you expected them to. You're amazing, Blaine. You should be touring around the country playing for thousands of people each night. Your time will come, I'm sure of it.”

Blaine hummed a little more happily and caught Kurt's hand, hugging it to his chest. “But you're still going to be my number one fan, right?”

Kurt smiled fondly and brushed his curls out of his forehead. “Always.”

*

Kurt's problem got worse in just a few days.

He startled awake one morning, so aroused it was painful, hard and aching in his boxer briefs, feeling feverish and panting as if he had been running a marathon instead of sleeping. Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was shoving his underwear down and taking his cock in his hand. He jerked himself off desperately, practically sobbing into the crook of his elbow where he was hiding his face. It was rough and too dry, but it was more than he had gotten the past couple of months, and he couldn't stop. He stroked himself raw, with his eyes shut tightly.

Behind his eyelids, he was suddenly with images – Mark kissing the inside of his thighs as he looked up at Kurt teasingly; Kurt taking Mark's cock in his hand, and reveling in the weight of it in his palm; Mark's body arching up in pleasure as he came in pearly strings over his stomach…

He tried to push the images away, to conjure new ones, to stop completely, but he was too far gone.

“Oh, oh…” Kurt gasped, as his body thrashed against the sheets uncontrollably. “Mark…”

His cock throbbed in his hand as it spurted come all over his chest, stomach and fingers. The orgasm washed over him like a wave, leaving him soaked in sweat and breathless.

It took him a whole minute to open his eyes, but as soon as he did, he curled up on himself and began crying bitterly into his pillow.

*

Since that morning, Kurt felt sick and dirty, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he had done something wrong. He knew deep down inside that his body's response had been natural, and that he had been with Mark for so long that he didn't know how to fantasize without thinking of him. But his stomach contracted in disgust whenever he thought of it.

He was sulky and taciturn, and both Anna and Blaine had begun to notice. He managed to brush off their inquiries – Anna was his employee, even if he considered her a friend, and he would never talk about it with her. Blaine… Kurt was afraid that Blaine would judge him and be as disgusted with him as Kurt felt. He couldn't risk that. Blaine had been his main support since Mark's death. He couldn't get through this without him, and he didn't even want to try.

Instead, he tried to find another way in which he could focus all the pent-up energy he wasn't spending sexually. He couldn't allow himself to give in like that other morning.

When it came to exercising, Kurt usually preferred yoga or aerobics, and he had Richard Simmons tapes hidden in the back of his closet. He had never been a gym kind of guy. But this time, he knew he needed a change. So he took up running.

He would wake up a little earlier, put on his yoga pants and a comfortable hoodie, and take the subway to Central Park. He put on his earbuds and hit play on his iPod, letting the music guide him. As his feet pounded against the pavement, he controlled his breathing – in, out, in, out. He felt free, lighter, powerful. He could do anything he wanted.

It worked. Miraculously, it worked.

So he turned it into a habit. It allowed him to unwind first thing in the morning, and he felt more in control of himself by the time he walked into the boutique. Getting up earlier and getting consistent exercise also meant he was a lot more tired when he got into bed at night, so he usually slept like a baby – dream-free.

It wouldn't be a solution forever, but it was a solution now, and Kurt was grateful for it.

*

They had dinner at Blaine's one night, and they used the opportunity to buy their plane tickets to fly home for Thanksgiving. Kurt wasn't particularly looking forward to the holidays this year, for obvious reasons, and Blaine was always wary of going home and facing his family.

“My parents still think I'm wasting my time with the band, that I'm not doing anything meaningful with my life, and that I need to grow up…” Blaine grunted in frustration. “You know what, they're right. And I don't want to admit it.”

“They are not right…” Kurt assured him, but Blaine would have none of it.

“Yes, they are, Kurt. I don't even know where I'm going to be standing in a month. Nothing in my life is certain,” Blaine replied, dropping his head back against the couch. “And that will be nothing compared to when they start with the relationship-status questions.”

“At least they are more open to you being gay now?” Kurt offered hesitantly. In the last few years, Blaine's parents had stopped ignoring the huge, rainbow-colored elephant in the room, and finally accepted that their son probably wouldn't end up marrying a nice girl and have a couple of kids before he was thirty five.

Blaine whined and hid his face in the crook of Kurt's shoulder. Kurt decided it was time to open a bottle of wine.

They had gotten so lost in conversation that they didn't realize it was getting late, until Kurt glanced at the clock and noticed it was close to midnight. He needed to go home and get some sleep or he wouldn't be able to function in the morning. So he planted a quick kiss to the top of Blaine's head and rushed out of the apartment and to the subway station.

It wasn't until he got home that he noticed he didn't have his cell phone with him, and realized he had left it at Blaine's.

That was why the next morning, before heading to Central Park for his now usual workout, Kurt entered Blaine's apartment quietly, using his own key. It was very early and he didn't want to wake his best friend, so he searched around as quietly as he could.

Just as he spotted his phone caught between the cushions in the couch, he heard a muffled sound coming from Blaine's bedroom. He stopped and frowned, wondering if he had heard correctly… and then he heard it again.

At first he thought Blaine was having a bad dream or something and he was whining in his sleep. He knew how horrible those were and how terrible it was to wake up alone. So he walked towards the parted bedroom door and peeked inside, ready to wake his best friend if he really was having a nightmare.

He definitely wasn't expecting to see Blaine on his back, with the sheets kicked off to the foot of the bed, his legs spread, and completely naked.

Kurt barely managed to stop the gasp that he could feel rising in his throat.

Blaine wasn't only naked – he was touching himself slowly, leisurely, clearly enjoying every drag of his hand on his cock. There was a bottle of lube on the nightstand and Kurt could see how his fingers and cock glistened with it in the dim light of the room.

Blaine made the prettiest needy sounds Kurt had ever heard, biting his lip as he bucked his hips up, pushing his cock through his fist. His other hand was roaming teasingly over his chest, going down lazily, until he reached between his parted legs and beyond his balls, down to his…

Kurt turned away sharply, closing his eyes. What the hell was he doing, standing there like a creep, watching his best friend as he masturbated?

Blaine's breathing became louder, filling the otherwise silent apartment, and he moaned desperately, clearly close to the edge. He was like a symphony and the crescendos were stunning and overwhelming…

Kurt didn't stay around to hear the rest of it. The guilt that settled deep in his belly pushed him out the apartment and to the street, where he let the November chill hit his overheated skin, and ignored the bulge tenting his yoga pants.

That day he ran faster and for longer than he often did, as the trees of Central Park became a blur around him.

*

If Kurt had felt guilty jerking off to memories of his fiancé, he felt just as guilty jerking off to images of Blaine.

As soon as he made it home from the park, he jumped into the shower. He was hard and aching, and the run hadn't helped for long, even though he had tried his best. He could still hear Blaine's moans as if they were echoing against the tiled-walls of his bathroom. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, needing some kind of relief, and he was stroking himself to orgasm before he even knew what he was doing.

He came so hard he had to wipe the walls clean afterwards.

*

The days before they left for Ohio were pretty hectic – Kurt needed to leave everything in order at the boutique so Anna wouldn't have trouble during the big Black Friday sales. He had hired two more girls to help during the holiday season, and asked her if she was sure she could handle everything. Anna had assured him she would be fine. She didn't say it, but she knew Kurt needed to be with his family. The holidays were always difficult, but this year… he just felt completely hopeless.

He and Blaine shared a cab to the airport, and for the first thirty minutes Kurt couldn't even look at him. Fortunately, Blaine was too asleep to notice, and limited himself to drool over the shoulder of Kurt's coat while they waited to board their plane.

Kurt was doing his best not to picture him naked.

He had indulged in his fantasies three other times before he forced himself to stop. He felt a lot better physically, but the guilt was consuming him. But when he balanced whether he felt worse thinking about Blaine than he felt about thinking about Mark… the truth was that he felt sicker when he allowed himself to think of Mark in that scenario. It didn't seem fair to his memory – like he was turning him into a mere masturbatory fantasy, depriving him of all the other beautiful qualities that Kurt had loved him for.

It didn't mean that thinking about Blaine that way wasn't wrong, because it was, but Kurt at least could explain and apologize if it ever came to that. He could do something to fix his mistake, but there was nothing he could to make it up to Mark.

“Are you excited about seeing your dad?” Blaine asked sleepily, snapping Kurt out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, it'll be nice to spend some time with him,” Kurt replied, taking a sip from his Starbucks cup. “He's been calling me three times a day. I don't want him to worry so much about me. I don't need him to have a heart attack on top of everything else…”

“He can't help it,” Blaine shrugged, not even bothering to open his eyes and burrowing deeper against Kurt's coat. “He just wants to make sure you're okay…”

“He calls you too, doesn't he?” Kurt asked, with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Yup. Every day,” Blaine replied, before stopping for a yawn. “I don't mind, though. I wish my dad would care that much…”

“Aw, honey. Your dad cares… he just doesn't know how to show it,” Kurt rubbed his back soothingly. Blaine didn't say anything, which meant he didn't agree with Kurt. “Do you want to come over and stay with us? You don't have to be at your house all weekend if you don't want to…”

“No, I'll be fine,” Blaine assured him. “You need time with your family, and I have to be with mine, even if it sounds like an awful idea sometimes.”

“You're my family, too,” Kurt whispered, and he felt Blaine's lips curling up into a smile against his shoulder. “Don't you forget that.”

Blaine nuzzled his way up to his shoulder. He was the most adorable thing when he was sleepy. “And you're mine.”

They boarded the plane holding hands.

*

Burt was waiting for them at the airport in Ohio, and as soon as he spotted Kurt through the crowd, he took three long strides towards him, and pulled his son right into his arms. He held him so tightly that it seemed as if he was never going to let go. Blaine stood behind for a moment, watching them. Burt's face was scrunched up as if he was trying not to cry – it must have been so difficult to be apart from Kurt when he knew he was suffering so much.

“Hi, kiddo,” he whispered.

There was a watery smile on Kurt's lips. “Hi, Dad.”

Burt pulled away enough to look at him, clear eyes wandering over him as if he wanted to make sure he was in one piece. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm glad to be home,” Kurt replied, but the sadness was still visible in his eyes. Blaine knew it would be there for a while. Burt knew it too, better than anyone.

Burt dropped a quick kiss on Kurt's forehead and pulled away, clearing his throat. He finally looked at Blaine and opened his arms, invitingly. “Nice to see you again, buddy.”

“Nice to see you too, Burt,” Blaine replied, going in for the hug easily. Not for the first – or the last – time, he wished his Dad would take parenting lessons from Burt Hummel.

Burt lowered his voice and murmured right into Blaine's ear, hoping Kurt wouldn't hear. “Thanks for keeping an eye on my boy.”

“No problem,” Blaine gave him a pat on the back when they parted. If there was one thing they had in common, that was how much they cared about Kurt. Kurt was the most important person in their lives, and that had been what had made them bond all those years ago. They shared a smile that said more than they could in words. “Alright. I'd better go. My Dad said there would be a car waiting for me, so I should find it…”

Burt frowned. “Are you sure? We could drive you…”

Blaine shook his head. “Oh, no, it's fine. You two have a lot of catching up to do.” He kissed Kurt's cheek. “I'll call you, okay? Have fun.”

“You too. Let me know if you change your mind about staying with us,” Kurt said, his blue eyes staring straight into his. “I'm serious, Blaine. You can just drop by whenever you need to.”

“Thanks,” Blaine said sincerely.

They parted ways, and Blaine couldn't resist looking over his shoulder and watching them walk away. Burt had his arm around Kurt's shoulders, and they seemed to be talking already, their heads tilted towards the other as if they didn't want to miss a word.

Blaine ignored the pang of longing he usually felt when he saw Burt and Kurt together, and went searching for his own ride home.

*

It was the first time they were alone since Kurt had arrived. Carole and Finn had been so happy to see him, they had barely left his side. They all went out for lunch together, sharing a booth and eating greasy cheeseburgers (Kurt asked Burt to order a vegetarian burger, and Burt complied without complains for once. Anything for his little boy), chatting and chatting. They filled Kurt in on everything that had been going on in Lima in the past few months, and not once did they mention New York, the wedding or the tragedy that had changed Kurt's life.

But now Burt and he were alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table across from each other. Finn had gone home, and Carole had excused herself and gone upstairs – Kurt was sure she had known they needed some one on one time, father and son.

“So… how are you, Kurt?” Burt asked, cutting straight to the chase. “For real.”

Kurt smiled sadly. Even though he had acted normally in front of everyone else, he knew his father could read him better than that. He could see what was really going on under the surface. “I'm… managing. I don't know what else to tell you. I'm not okay, but I've been worse.”

“Blaine said going back to work helped,” Burt commented.

“Yeah, it did. It's a good distraction, and I couldn't neglect it forever. Bills keep coming even if you feel like your life is paralyzed,” Kurt rolled his eyes and laughed bitterly. “Blaine helped, too, especially. He's… I don't know if I would have been capable of coming back here if it hadn't been for him. I would probably be hiding under the bed to avoid admitting this is my new reality…”

“It sounds awful, but… you'll get used to it, kiddo,” Burt said, laying his hand on top of Kurt's. “You'll always miss him, you'll never stop loving him… but you'll be able to move on. Life will make sense again.”

Kurt had been so lost in his own pain that he hadn't realized his father was the perfect person to talk to about this. “How did you do it, after Mom died?”

Burt sighed. “I was a mess…”

“No, you weren't,” Kurt frowned in confusion. “You were so put together. Sometimes I wasn't sure you even missed her. I mean, I knew you were sad, but… you didn't seem to have trouble moving on…”

“Kurt, it was the hardest thing I have ever done,” Burt said, wide-eyed and honestly surprised. “I missed her so much I thought my heart would split in two. I don't think I really moved on and realized I was allowed to be happy again until I met Carole…”

“Then why did you always seem so under control?”  Kurt asked, sounding baffled.

“I had you,” Burt said simply. “You were the reason I got out of bed every morning. I had a kid that depended completely on me. He needed me, so I pushed through it. I told myself I was only allowed to focus on my own pain once you were in bed. I spent so many months crying in my room until dawn…”

“Dad…” Kurt squeezed his hand and felt tears building in his eyes. “You shouldn't have. We could have gotten through it together…”

“I know that now. You were always so strong, Kurt. But I had no idea what I was doing,” Burt explained, shaking his head. “I was mad at her for a while, you know. She left me all alone with you, and you kept crying and calling for her in dreams, waking up from nightmares and screaming for your Mom, and I… I just felt so inadequate. I wished a million times that it had been me instead.”

“You did a wonderful job, Dad,” Kurt smiled through his tears. “You're the best father I could have ever had.”

“And I couldn't have asked for a better, stronger kid. That's why I know you'll be okay – because you've been through this before and there's nothing that can knock you down,” Burt murmured proudly.

Kurt looked down and pulled his hand slowly from his father's grasp. “I don't know. It's not the same. It feels so much more intense than when Mom died…” He hid his face in his hands. “I don't have a kid to keep me from drowning, Dad, no one depending on me. I'm on my own. He left me on my own. It's been two months and I still can't believe he's gone. I look for him every day. I wonder if there would have been a way to avoid this…”

“Don't do that,” Burt retorted. “There's no use in doing that to yourself. It will only set you back.”

“I can't help it…” Kurt shrugged tiredly. “Didn't you do that with Mom?”

“Of course I did,” Burt answered softly. “But I knew that there was nothing I could have done. I'm not a doctor, Kurt, I wouldn't have been able to get rid of her cancer. I took her to all the best doctors and did everything I could to make her healthy and happy, but in the end… it just wasn't up to me.”

“I just feel like I have all these questions I'll never have answers for,” Kurt kept his eyes fixed on the table top, his fingers gripping the wooden edge. “I'm lost and confused, and nothing makes sense. There are days I get up, and the pain is there, and I carry it with me everywhere, but I'm resigned, so I just go on. And then there are days when I'm completely paralyzed by his absence. I don't know what to do…”

“I can't tell you how or when, Kurt, but it'll get better. You'll learn how to deal with it. Just don't let the grief dictate your life. I'm glad you went back to work, and that you have people like Blaine to lean on,” Burt reached for his hands and helped him relax his clasp on the table. “Mark wouldn't want to hold you back. He would have done anything to make you happy. I bet he's looking down on you now, wishing he could tell you that himself.”

Kurt glanced up at his father. His eyes were still full of tears. “Do you believe that? Do you really think Mark's in Heaven?”

“Yeah, I do. I bet your mother was waiting for him and gave him a big hug when he got up there. I think they're up there together now, watching you, proud of how strong you have been…” Burt said, and Kurt sniffed, still trying to hold back the tears. “Don't you think so?”

“I… I don't. I can't believe in those things,” Kurt shook his head bitterly. He focused on his father sadly, looking so exhausted that Burt wanted to carry him upstairs and tuck him in like a child. “But… would you believe for me?”

Burt smiled at him, heart aching for his little boy. “Of course, Kurt. I can believe for the both of us.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

*

Just as Kurt had predicted, Blaine was too overwhelmed and stressed to stay with his family any longer, so he texted Kurt late on Friday night and asked if his offer was still on the table.

On Saturday morning, Kurt opened the door to find him standing there, clearly relieved to see his best friend.

“It was that bad, huh?” Kurt asked in sympathy, scrunching up his nose.

“My Mom tried to sign me up for online dating, and my Dad told me there was nothing wrong with admitting defeat and looking for a new career path. He said he would pay for my tuition if I decided to go back to college and study something relevant,” Blaine explained in a desperate, exhausted tone. “And Cooper's fiancé is pregnant.”

“Oh wow. I'm sorry, sweetie,” Kurt pulled him into a hug. “Not about the pregnancy news, though. That's nice. You're going to be an uncle!”

“Yeah. I'm really happy for Cooper,” he said, still sounding miserable, nuzzling against Kurt's neck. “But I wish it didn't mean my parents are going to look at me pointedly because I, as a gay man, cannot give them grandchildren. Like seriously, what century are they from?”

“You'll prove them wrong when you have beautiful babies with curly hair and big gold eyes like yours,” Kurt dropped a kiss to his temple. “At least they are more supportive even if they don't know how to show it, right? I mean, ten years ago they wouldn't even acknowledge your sexuality…”

“I guess,” Blaine sighed, still not letting go of him. They were quiet for a moment or two, and then Blaine asked, “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”

“It was okay,” Kurt replied, as they finally pulled away, and Blaine grabbed his bag again. He followed Kurt into the living room. “I can't say I was feeling particularly grateful or festive, but… it's nice to be with my family. They make things easier.”

“Well, if it means anything at all, this year, just like every other year… I was grateful for you,” Blaine said sweetly, earning a kiss on the cheek.

Burt entered the living room then and smiled when he spotted Blaine. “Hey kid! Nice to have you home!”

Blaine smiled back at him brightly. “It's good to be home, Burt,” he replied.

*