Kurt was still immersed in his comforting fantasy of being cherished by someone when Grace came back downstairs, looking elegant and timeless in an exquisite slim black skirt, a navy shirt and a beautiful pair of pumps. Kurt couldn't help noticing what a gorgeous woman she really was.

“Well, boys,” she said, retrieving her handbag from a side table. It was a classic Chanel handbag that probably cost about the same as a month of Kurt's rent. She paused next to the couch and looked at the three of them fondly, smiling brighter when she saw Blaine and his boyfriend cuddling. “I'm going out for a bit, but I should be back long before dinner time. If you get hungry, there's plenty of food in the kitchen for lunch.” Grace eyed them for a few more seconds and then tilted her head thoughtfully, as if an idea had just come to her. “Actually… Paul? Would you like to come with me, sweetheart?”

Kurt's eyes went wide. “I… you want me to go with you?”

Grace shrugged, still smiling. “It could be a great opportunity for us to get to know each other better. I'm sure Blaine wouldn't mind if I borrowed you for a while, right honey? We can let the brothers catch up and maybe we can actually get a chance to talk…”

Blaine sat up anxiously, one arm unconsciously gripping Kurt's back. “Uhm. I don't know… is that a good idea?”

Grace laughed. “Oh, Blaine. You make it sound like I'm going to kidnap him or something! Can't a mother try to bond with her son's boyfriend? Paul is part of our family now.”

Kurt could see Blaine's reluctance to let him out of his sight, and he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of spending time alone with Grace either, but it would be very rude if he declined. “I'd love to, if I'm not too much of a bother, of course.”

“Not at all, sweetie!” She assured him happily.

So that's how Kurt ended up riding in the passenger seat of Grace's car. Blaine watched them leave nervously, wondering what else could go wrong. Kurt eyed him helplessly, wishing he had been able to come up with a reasonable excuse for why he couldn't accompany her.

He must have looked apprehensive, because a few blocks away from the Andersons' house, Grace put a hand on his knee and squeezed gently.

“Relax. I really just want to spend some time with you,” she said with an easy smile. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Her reassurance didn't help him at all because Grace wanted to spend time with Paul, not with Kurt. Kurt had nothing to contribute. In his experience, the only reason people (men, always men) sought out his company was to satisfy their lust, so he had no idea of what Grace wanted from him.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking sheepish. “It's just… I've never done this before. I can't help but be a little nervous.”

“I get it. I was really nervous when I met Henry's parents, too,” Grace rolled her eyes. “That was a long time ago, of course. It was such a serious, formal affair back then, meeting your significant other's family.”

A smile twitched Kurt's lips. “What happened?”

“Well, he invited me over for dinner. I remember wearing a pink dress that my mother made especially for that night and he wore his best suit. After he introduced me, we immediately sat at the table. You could hear everyone breathing and chewing in the dead silence,” Grace laughed and shook her head. “Of course I was completely terrified, but his mother was so kind. She did her best to make me feel comfortable, though it took a while before I finally realized they were just as nervous at meeting me.”

Kurt couldn't help but thank his luck that Blaine's family was so welcoming. If he'd had to go through that much awkwardness he would've given up already, Blaine's money be damned.

Grace told him a few more stories about when she and Blaine's father were still dating. He had to admit that she distracted him so well, that he forgot to be nervous. He simply listened and gradually felt his anxiety fade.

Blaine was so incredibly lucky to have a mother like Grace Anderson.

*

Deep down inside, Kurt was sort of, kind of, maybe… beginning to have fun. Grace kept the conversation light, with no awkward, personal questions about Paul's life to answer. Kurt didn't feel trapped. He was okay. He was… yeah, he was actually enjoying himself.

They went to the post office, to the party's caterer to run over some details about the food and then to a flower shop, where she asked him to help her choose flowers for the table center pieces. After she ordered several dozens of tulips that matched the decorations perfectly, they found a quiet little café and had lunch.

They were getting into the car again when she got a phone call from one of the girls at her boutique. Grace talked for a few minutes and then hung up.

“Would you mind if we stopped by my boutique for a little while?” She asked him, smiling. She was always smiling.

“Sure, no problem. Is everything okay?” He tilted his head, looking at her curiously, as she started the engine.

“I hope so! The girls said they needed my help, so we'll see…”

Grace's boutique was located on one of the busiest streets in Westerville. It looked small from the outside, but once Kurt followed her inside, he realized that was deceiving. The main room, with its beautiful dark wooden floors and high ceiling with a stunning crystal chandelier hanging over their heads, was where the clothes were displayed. Two long racks lined the walls and then there was a big oak table in the middle of the room, displaying artfully mixed and matched tops. The counter with the register (probably an antique of some sort) was near the back. Next to it, Kurt saw sewing machines through a door that led to a workshop where the clothes were made.

Grace had explained to him on the way there that she wasn't really a designer – it wasn't as if she had a degree or anything. But she had loved clothes since she was a little girl and it had become a hobby of hers to design and create clothes. After her sons had grown up and didn't need her anymore, she found herself looking for a new purpose in life, something that would fill her long days and give her a sense of accomplishment at the same time. She had opened the boutique and lovingly grew it into a successful business.

Kurt was introduced to all of Grace's employees. There were four girls. One was busy with a customer, another was standing behind the counter and the other two, the ones who looked more stressed, were in the backroom.

“What's wrong?” Grace asked, going with them into the backroom. Kurt wasn't sure if he was supposed to wait for her or follow, but he decided to go along rather than standing awkwardly in the middle of the boutique.

“We have two problems,” one of the girls, Victoria, said as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. “The first is with the dress Mr. Orwell ordered for his daughter's Sweet Sixteen. It's completely finished, but we didn't realize the zipper sticks until now and he's supposed to pick it up in an hour. We can't replace it because it was the last one we had left. I'm so stupid, I should've checked it was working properly, I'm sorry…”

“It's okay, Vicky,” Grace murmured soothingly as she moved to examine the dress. It was light pink suitable for a princess. It was the perfect Sweet Sixteen dress. “I could call Mr. Orwell and explain what happened. Maybe he can pick it up a couple of hours later. That should give us enough time to replace it, right?”

“You could try rubbing some graphite on it,” Kurt said before he even thought about it. The three women turned to look at him blankly. “It'll loosen it up.”

“Really?” Hannah, the other girl frowned doubtfully.

“Yeah, really… do any of you have a pencil?” Kurt asked capably. Victoria immediately handed one to him. He very carefully rubbed the graphite on the zipper, making sure he avoided the fabric. He rubbed a scrap of cloth over the surface when he was done and passed it back to Grace.  “This usually fixes it. You can use bar soap or candle wax, too, but the convenient point on a pencil is easier to get into the teeth.”

Grace unzipped and zipped the dress two or three times, checking it, her frown transforming to a delighted smile.

“Wow. It worked beautifully,” she looked at Kurt, relieved. “That was a great trick, Paul! Thank you! You just saved us a lot of time. And a headache, too. Mr. Orwell isn't a very patient man.”

Kurt smiled shyly in response, pink with gratification at being able to help.

Grace clapped her hands, ready to tackle the next problem. “So. What's the next emergency?”

“Well, it's not an emergency, really,” Hannah explained, as they moved towards her work table. Beside it, was a dressmaker's dummy with a gown over it, in a lovely emerald green. “I finished it this morning, but I think it looked a lot better on paper than it looks in real life.” She pointed at the sketch pinned to a cork board on the wall next to her table. “It's a little frumpy.”

“You're right,” Grace said thoughtfully, glancing between the sketch and the dress. “It looks like something my grandma would've bought…”

“I'm not sure exactly what to do with it, though,” Hannah admitted. “Is there a way to modify it without having to start over from scratch?”

Grace studied the design thoughtfully, wheels in her head turning as she tried to imagine a solution.

Once again, Kurt spoke without thinking. “I think it's the collar.”

Once again, the three women turned to him in surprise.

“Uhm. I'm sorry. I don't mean to butt in…” He mumbled, uncomfortably.

“No, it's okay,” Grace said, handing the sketch to him. “What would you do to fix it?”

Kurt hesitated for a moment, not sure if he was infringing or not. “Uh, well. I would open up the neckline a little more. It feels like it's gonna choke someone this way. Maybe a square collar? It's a little sexier, but in an elegant way, without revealing too much cleavage.” He leaned over the table with the sketch and the pencil he was still holding, and drew a new version of the dress next to the old one.

He gave it back to Grace when he was done, who studied it carefully, before a smile lit up her face again. “Paul, this is amazing! Blaine never mentioned you had a flair for fashion!”

Kurt shrugged diffidently. “I just like clothes. It's not a big deal.”

“But honey, you have a great eye for this!” Grace insisted, giving the sketch to Hannah, who immediately started planning the modifications she would have to make. “Do you know how to sew?”

Kurt ran his hand admiringly over one of the sewing machines, thinking of his mother's machine. He'd had no choice but to sell it a long time ago, when money was too tight. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“You're full of wonderful surprises, my dear,” she said, putting a warm hand on his arm and squeezing gently.

Kurt beamed at her and, for the first time, he wasn't faking at all.

*

Blaine and Cooper had moved on from audition videos to playing video games, only stopping to make some grilled cheese for lunch. For a while, Blaine felt like a teenager again. They had done this so many times when Blaine was still in high school and Cooper came back to Ohio for a visit. Life had seemed incredibly easy when his worries were limited to not letting Cooper win and avoid leaving crumbs on the couch so their mother wouldn't get mad at them later.

Blaine couldn't understand why growing up and facing real life had to ruin that carefree feeling that had floated around him back then.

“You're not mad at me for how I behaved with Paul yesterday, right?” Cooper said, eyes still glued to the screen and fingers working frantically on the buttons of his controller.

“I'm mostly annoyed,” Blaine admitted, face scrunched up in concentration. “I appreciate why you do it, in a way. But I don't need you to be constantly looking after me, Coop. I'm not a kid anymore.”

“Old habits die hard,” Cooper muttered, then he paused the game, suddenly looking thoughtful. “Hey. Do you think I'd ever get to play John McLane in a remake?”

Blaine rolled his eyes, not surprised Cooper managed to turn the conversation back to himself again. “I don't know. Bruce Willis' shoes are hard to fill.”

“I'm much more attractive than him, though, don't you think?” Cooper asked as they resumed the game. “I mean, as a gay man, who would you prefer?”

“Well, I'm not sure. I mean, yeah, I guess you're good looking, but you're my brother,” Blaine replied. “It would be weirdly creepy for me to say that you're more attractive than Bruce Willis. Even though he's old enough to be my dad… he's got the ultra-macho thing going on.”

“Blaine, come on! You're not helping me here. What kind of brother are you?” Cooper pouted.

“A non-creepy one,” Blaine said, still completely focused on the game. Then he paused it when they heard the front door open.

Kurt and their mother barely had time to step into the living room before Cooper was kneeling on the couch and looking at them expectantly.

“Paul, do you think that Bruce Willis is hotter than me?” He asked, blue eyes pleading. He added his charming smile, just in case it would help his brother's boyfriend make a decision.

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise for a moment. He glanced at Blaine for some guidance, who was chuckling lightly. He assumed this was just Cooper being Cooper and shrugged. “What parameters are we using for this comparison? Because I'm not exactly sure what to say. He's a little old…”

“That's what I said,” Blaine muttered, but Cooper shushed him.

“Yes, yes, I know he could be our dad, but… do you think he's attractive?”

“Mm, he was more appealing maybe around the time he did that guest appearance on Friends?” Kurt said thoughtfully, sitting beside Blaine on the arm of the couch. “Tough guys aren't my type, though.”

“Am I more your type?” Cooper beamed, hopefully.

Kurt turned to Blaine, arching an eyebrow. “Am I being hit on by your brother or something? I'm a little confused.”

“Nah, he's just being typically weird,” Blaine patted his knee reassuringly, relieved that Kurt seemed a lot more relaxed around his family now. “He's fishing for compliments, so just ignore him.”

“Screw you, guys,” Cooper retorted, still pouting. “Mom thinks I'm hotter than Bruce Willis, right, Mom?”

Grace laughed at her son's antics and ran a hand through his hair. “Of course, Cooper. All those Hollywood stars have nothing on you.”

“Mom,” Blaine whined. “Don't encourage him. He doesn't need to love himself any more than he already does.”

“Oh shut it, B. You're just jealous that I'm Mom's favorite,” Cooper said petulantly.

“Actually,” Grace said, standing next to the couch and putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. “I'm pretty sure Paul's my favorite.”

It must have been fun for Grace to see the three boys' very different reactions. Cooper immediately let out an exclamation of mock outrage and disbelief, Blaine looked at Kurt as if he'd never seen him before in his life before turning back to his mother with the same expression, and Kurt… Kurt's eyes widened for a moment, incredulous.

Grace chuckled and wrapped her arms around Kurt's frame, hugging him from behind and smiling. “Oh Blaine, you should've seen him. Your boyfriend is absolutely amazing. How come you never told me he's a fashion prodigy?”

“I… what?” Blaine gaped like a fish out of the water. How was it possible that in just a few hours that Kurt had managed to charm his mother like this. It was then that he noticed a new emotion he had never seen in Kurt's eyes until now – it looked as if he was pleased with himself, but trying to hide it. “You are?” He asked Kurt, surprised.

Kurt simply shrugged and let Grace explain.

“We had to stop by the boutique because the girls needed my help with two dresses… and he just walked in there, took one look at the dresses and knew exactly how to fix them!” Grace was glowing with excitement. “He even made a sketch for the second one in less than two minutes and it was… it was perfect.”

“I… didn't know,” Blaine admitted, turning to look at Kurt, still terribly impressed.

“Well, don't be surprised if I call every now and then to ask him for his opinions,” Grace said with one more squeeze to Kurt's shoulders before letting go. “Actually, scratch that. I may not ever let him leave this house. I'll kidnap him and keep him here to be my fashion whisperer.”

Kurt managed to laugh, but a proud blush was spreading over his cheeks. Blaine couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Sitting next to him was a man completely different from the one he'd been seeing the past few days. And something told him that this, this Kurt blushing and smiling and feeling pleased when Blaine's mother complimented him… was more genuine than anything else he'd seen until now.

This man, who until now was always so bitter, so angry, became even more mysterious. Blaine wondered if he would ever reach the inner layers that were hidden under his hard protective shell, but he resolved to try.

Blaine also didn't understand why he seemed to care so much about that.

Cooper followed Grace to the kitchen, to press his case for being her favorite. Kurt was looking down at his hands, tangled in his lap, with a lingering ghost of a smile on his lips. Blaine watched him, unable to grasp how there could be so many versions of just one man.

“You never said you liked fashion,” Blaine commented at last, needing to fill the silence.

Kurt's smile disappeared, his shell snapped back in place. “I don't say much about anything, actually.”

“I'm glad today went well,” Blaine continued in a soft voice, not wanting anyone to overhear. “Sorry you got trapped into spending the day with mom.”

“It was okay,” Kurt shrugged once again. It seemed to be the only thing he did lately. “She didn't ask many questions. I hope I didn't screw up at the boutique. You never mentioned if Paul likes clothes or not…”

“Not particularly,” Blaine answered. “But this is great, really. And I'm happy to see it wasn't so bad for you. You look… different, somehow. As if…”

“Listen, Blaine,” Kurt glanced quickly at the doorway, making sure no one was coming back into the living room. “It was an impulse and I'm glad it worked out alright. But I don't want to talk about it anymore, okay? We both know what this arrangement is about, so let's keep it business.”

Blaine frowned. There he was again, pushing him away, shutting him out. Of course, Kurt had all the right in the world to keep their relationship professional, but it didn't make it any less disconcerting. “Right.”

Kurt looked visibly uncomfortable again, all trace of smile and pleasure gone from his face. Blaine wished he could bring them back, because things had seemed a lot easier for a moment.

They had also looked a lot more real than they actually were.

Blaine stood up. “Well, I think I'm gonna go take Nayla out for a run.” He had no idea why he added the next words, maybe because he was sure Kurt would say no but he didn't want to seem rude. “Would you like to come with me?”

Once more, Kurt surprised him. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. I need some air too.”

Blaine blinked in obvious shock. “Oh. Alright.”

They made their way upstairs to get changed in utter silence.

*

It was a perfect day to be outside. The sun was bright, there were no clouds in the sky and the soft breeze felt like a caress on their skin as they jogged.

Kurt wasn't one for regular exercise. Most days he barely made it out of bed, too underfed and exhausted to go for a run on a daily basis. But he appreciated the chance to deal with the adrenaline and the repressed feelings he'd been accumulating since arriving at Blaine's parents' house.

Just one look at Blaine was enough to know he did this regularly, though – not only because his breathing was controlled and his pace constant, but because his thighs and calves were muscular and defined and his t-shirt hugged his back.

Kurt shook his head. Was he checking Blaine out? He must have been crazy.

Being outside felt good. He didn't feel the need to talk to Blaine if he didn't want to, or to play his role, the way he had to around the other members of his family. Things with Grace were easier, but Kurt still felt like any minute she would ask a question that would ruin everything.

Today had been a weird day. He had indulged impulses that he'd buried long ago. He still loved fashion as much as when he was a teenager, but he didn't pay as much attention to it. The off-duty clothes he owned were from his college days and most of them were now very worn. He didn't feel like there was any point in buying nice things to wear, with nowhere to go and no one to appreciate them but him – and even if that would've been enough when he was younger, nothing was enough now. Kurt simply didn't find any pleasure in any of the things he used to love. Everything that used to make him happy seemed unimportant these days.

Kurt was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Blaine stopping to allow Nayla to sniff at a patch of grass, looking for a place to pee. He narrowly dodged colliding against Blaine's back, stumbled on a crack on the sidewalk, and sprawled onto the ground before he could even process what was going on.

He'd managed to avoid hitting his head by instinctively catching his fall with his hands, feeling the burn in his palms immediately. His knees seemed to have taken the brunt of his fall though. Before he could actually inspect them, Blaine was next to him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, hands raised in the air but not daring to touch Kurt.

“You and your damn dog,” Kurt mumbled with clenched teeth, barely holding back tears. He sat on the grass next to the sidewalk and rolled his yoga pants up to find both his knees were badly skinned, with blood pouring down his calf. “Shit.”

“I'm so sorry,” Blaine said, biting his lip. “I thought you'd have enough time to stop or that you would have time to turn or… god, I'm sorry.”

“Just shut up,” Kurt's eyes stung as he did his best not to cry. This was nothing. He'd felt worse pain every time some asshole fucked him roughly. It was stupid to cry about something as inconsequential as skinned knees.

“I'll help you up. We're not that far away from the house,” Blaine reached to take a hold of him, but Kurt flinched back.

“I can do it on my own,” he said, refusing to look at Blaine. He tried to stand, but he let out a gasp of pain and sank to the ground again, because his knees hurt like a bitch.

“Come on. Let me help you,” Blaine murmured almost pleadingly. “Just this once.”

Kurt bit his lip and reluctantly reached his hand up, still not looking at him. Blaine ignored Kurt's hand, put his arm around his back, and gently settled him on his feet. He didn't let go once Kurt was standing.

“Does it hurt too badly? I'm pretty sure you won't need any stitches, but I can drive you to the hospital to be sure, if you want,” Blaine offered softly, his one arm still wrapped around Kurt and Nayla's leash in his free hand.

“I don't need a hospital,” Kurt replied immediately. God, he hated hospitals.

“Okay,” Blaine agreed, probably sensing it was better not to argue. “Just lean on me a little and I'll help you back home. I would offer to carry you there, but I'm pretty sure you'd punch me in the face if I did.”

“Don't you dare try carrying me,” Kurt glared at him. He had no doubt at all that Blaine would be able to carry him if he wanted – Blaine looked strong, his arms were muscular enough, and Kurt didn't weigh much, but he refused to rely on anyone.

He knew he was scrawny, but it's hard to put on much weight when you live on canned soup and cheap take out, or when your customers like to feel your ribs against their hands as they fuck you.

Kurt swallowed and pushed those thoughts away. He would be back to his real life soon enough.

“We're almost there,” Blaine muttered after a couple of minutes. They could already see the roof of the Anderson house through some trees.

Kurt expected Blaine to let go of him once they were home, but he solicitously guided him into the kitchen and then helped him sit on a chair. Kurt would've snapped at him to let him take care of it, but here they were at risk of someone hearing them, so he had to bite his tongue.

“Stay right there,” Blaine said, rummaging hurriedly through a kitchen cabinet. “My mom has a first aid kit here somewhere… oh, here it is!”

“Blaine, this isn't necessary. I can clean them up myself in the bathroom,” Kurt whispered sharply.

Blaine ignored him. “Let me do this, Kurt. Let me do this one thing for you. It's my fault you fell.”

Kurt sighed in annoyance. It was easier to say yes, than argue with Blaine's guilt complex. “Fine.”

Blaine knelt on the cold tiled kitchen floor before him, with the first aid kit opened next to him. “We'll roll your pant legs up again so I can clean up properly.”

Blaine helped Kurt expose his legs, now crusted with dried blood. Blaine drenched a ball of cotton in antiseptic and carefully cleaned the blood off Kurt's knees, then wet paper towels to wash his calves. Now that the bleeding had stopped, his cleaned knees looked far less intimidating.

Kurt watched Blaine as he worked intently. The way he so carefully dabbed the cotton on his leg, so careful, so focused on what he was doing, seemed foreign to Kurt. It felt like endless years since anyone had cared for him so gently. Blaine put the cotton down to dispose of it later and reached into the kit for a little red bottle of iodine. Kurt thought of the thousand times his dad had held him and made him feel better after he had skinned his knees when he was a kid, learning to ride his bike.

“I'm sorry, but this is gonna sting a little,” Blaine looked up at him with big, apologetic hazel eyes.

Kurt nodded his permission, but he still hissed when the liquid touched the places where the skin had broken. He clenched his teeth and a solitary tear made its way down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, hoping Blaine didn't notice, and blamed it on the antiseptic, instead of the powerful, overwhelming memories of his father's comforting love.

“Sorry,” Blaine muttered with a grimace. “I hate this stuff, but it's the best way to prevent an infection.” He leaned in closer and blew softly to make the sting go away.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. Why was Blaine doing this? Why did he care? Why did he even bother? He could've given Kurt the first aid kit and let him do this himself, but instead… instead he was taking care of him.

It sent warmth all through him and it hurt at the same time. The former because Kurt had forgotten that human beings were capable of selfless compassion, because it felt like life was giving him some a bit of a break and putting someone in front of him who didn't see a body to use for their own benefit, but a real person. It sent warmth through him because he'd missed having someone who worried about him, who wanted to help him – someone who didn't hesitate to take care of him when he needed help.

But it hurt because it wouldn't last. Kurt knew that he would have to return to working his street corner soon.

Good things never lasted long in his world.