Burt didn't want to be at work today.  This wasn't normal Monday morning blues, this wasn't him pining for the family weekend.  Because, to be honest, he'd not had the best of weekends.  But Kurt's had been worse.

Friday night was a standard date night for the boys, but this week there was one difference.  Blaine's car had been pranged a few days beforehand; it was in for repairs so Kurt was driving.  They'd met in town, seen a movie, grabbed a bite to eat, and then Kurt had driven his boyfriend home.

It wasn't the first time Kurt had been at the Anderson residence, it wasn't that.  From what Burt had gathered the boys were saying goodbye while parked on the driveway (and Burt was trying so, so hard not to picture what that meant) and then Blaine's father had appeared in the doorway, arms folded and watching them.  Then Blaine had made a joke about being in trouble, said goodnight, and that was that.

Kurt hadn't heard from him since.

His goodnight texts on Friday had gone unanswered.  His morning texts on Saturday weren't replied to.  Just after lunchtime on Saturday he'd given up and tried calling Blaine's cell.  Straight to voicemail.  After a couple of hours of that he'd dug out the scrap of paper on which Blaine had scribbled his home number and called that.

Blaine's mom had answered and as soon as Kurt had introduced himself and asked to speak to Blaine she'd burst into hysterical tears.

Because she apparently thought Blaine was at Kurt's.

And that he'd been there since Friday night.

What Burt had gathered from his son's hysterical retelling Blaine and his father had argued that Friday night and when his mom had gone to check on him later that night she found his room empty.  A bag was missing, as were some of his things, and she assumed that he'd taken off to Kurt's.

Only Kurt hadn't seen or heard from him.

Blaine had been missing for over twelve hours before any of them realised that he'd actually run away.

So Saturday afternoon had involved the family combing every place that Kurt could think of that Blaine would go.  He'd called all the Warblers, all of New Directions, and roped them into searching.  Saturday night had involved poster making and Sunday they had leafleted all of Lima and Westerville and everywhere in between.

The police had been called once it reached 24 hours and their first port of call had been the Anderson home.  They'd spoken to Blaine's parents, taken details about Friday night, but only confirmed with Kurt the time he left the house.  He was desperate for more information but no matter how many times he asked Mrs Anderson refused to tell him.  Mr Anderson just refused to talk to him.

Burt was beginning to wonder if they blamed Kurt for Blaine's disappearance.

Realising that he had once again forgotten what he was supposed to be doing to this car he sighed and stood upright, stretching his back.  More coffee was needed.  Wiping his hands on the rag he kept nearby he turned to head up to the office.  Normally Kurt and Finn would be here with him but they'd chosen to take up the search again.

Carole had, very quietly, said that she'd check hospital admissions for the weekend.  It was something the police would look into but they'd go to his parents first and she was terrified they would keep Kurt out of the loop.  In reality she just wanted to do something, wanted to feel something other than hopeless as their son's life fell apart.

It had been said without thought, hesitation, done on instinct, but Burt had loved his wife a little bit more when she'd called Kurt their son.  She'd never tried to replace his mom, same way Burt had never tried to replace Finn's dad, but they loved the other's son as their own.  They were a family and so they were pulling together as one.

Which, for Burt, meant keeping a roof over their heads.  He couldn't do anything at home and he had a business to run, employees who needed their jobs.  So Monday morning, as if it were any other Monday morning, found Burt wiping his hands and turning to make his third cup of coffee.  (Kurt would have had a fit had he not been a bit distracted.)

He didn't look up right away which was probably a good thing.  When he did look up and saw Blaine standing there Burt had to almost lunge between him and the door to stop him from running away again.

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come..."

Burt had so many arguments, so many reprimands on his tongue, but he didn't say a word, just held out his arms as Blaine's face crumpled.  Within seconds Burt was holding him tightly, not because he was scared of the kid running away, but because of how Blaine was clinging to him.

"It's OK," Burt said softly.  "It's gonna be OK, kid.  Whatever it is, we can sort it."

"You can't..."

"Hey," Burt snapped gently, pulling back to look at him.  "You know I get stubborn when my kid wants something bad."

"It's not going to happen," Blaine said.  "I can't give Kurt what he wants."

"So you took off?  Your parents are going frantic..."

Burt didn't know if the noise Blaine made was a laugh or a sob but he knew he couldn't let him go.

"I just wanted to... drop this off.  For Kurt."  Blaine held out an envelope, Kurt's name on it in the neat script Burt had seen on dozens of other letters in his son's room.

"Oh no, I 'ain't letting you walk out of here after playing mailman.  C'mon," he said, taking Blaine by the shoulders and steering him towards the office.  "My coffee isn't fancy but it's decent.  Then you and I are going to talk before I call Kurt..."

"No, please," Blaine begged.  "Don't..."

"OK, OK," Burt soothed, not wanting to upset him further.  If Blaine ran again then he knew that would be the last they saw of him and that wasn't going to happen, not if he could stop it.  "But you're still getting that coffee."

He pointed Blaine in the direction of the restroom they had, taking advantage of the few minutes to text Kurt.  He wanted to call but he knew that it wouldn't be a quick call and if Blaine heard him on the phone then he'd still have time to run.  And there was no way Burt could outrun a seventeen year old kid.

When Blaine emerged, Burt suddenly realised where he'd been all weekend.

Having taken obvious advantage of the sink, hot water and a mirror, Blaine had washed himself down a bit.  But there were still streaks on his neck, a slight shift in the tone of his skin.  Just enough to betray that Blaine hadn't run to anyone on Friday night – he'd just run.

"Drink," Burt commanded, handing the mug to the kid who accepted it gratefully, wrapping his hands around it.  "So...  Wanna talk?"

"It's in there," Blaine said after taking his first sip, nodding towards the letter sat on top of some invoices.  "Can you...?"

"You gotta give me something, kid.  You really think I'm just going to hand that over to Kurt and he's going to thank me for it?"

"I just...  He deserves more."  Blaine's eyes drifted shut and he sighed.  "He deserves better."

"I don't think that's your decision to make, kid," Burt said gently.

"It's the right one."

"For who?" interjected a third, softer voice.

Blaine jumped to his feet, spilling luke warm coffee over himself, the desk and the letter.  Turning he saw Kurt in the doorway, arms wrapped around his waist.

"I'll give you two some space," Burt said.

Kurt moved to let his father pass, but then moved to block the doorway again as if he was scared that Blaine would bolt given the first chance.  (Which was probably true.)

"Kurt..."

"I have two questions, OK?  Just two.  And they're yes/no questions so it's pretty easy.  If you answer me those and you still want to go... then you can go.  OK?"

Blaine swallowed hard and nodded.

"Question one," Kurt began, his voice shaking a little.  "Do you still love me?"

"Oh god, Kurt...  Yes," Blaine enthused.  "Always."

"Question two," he said, his voice a little stronger.  "Do you want to leave me?"

"You deserve..."

"I didn't ask that," Kurt interrupted.  "I asked what you wanted.  And do you want to leave me?  Because if you do, if we're over then..."  He stopped, taking a deep breath to compose himself in readiness for an answer he wasn't sure he wanted.  "Do you want to leave me?"

"I..."

Blaine's voice stilled as he looked at the boy in front of him.  No longer composed and together, but exhausted and broken and scared.  Scared because of the thoughts that had been going around his mind all weekend and scared of what the next answer would be.  Blaine tried to find his voice, tried to put it into words but in the end all he could do was shake his head.

By the time he'd started crying again he was wrapped up safely in Kurt's arms and they were clinging to each other desperately.

Out in the shop Burt watched them and he sighed in relief.  Then he pulled out his phone and called Carole.  After promising to look after them both he called Finn and asked him to spread the word that Blaine was safe.  He then suggested that Finn go spend a lot of time with Rachel – not that he wasn't welcome at home, it was just that whatever was going on with Blaine he probably wouldn't want an audience.  Hell, he'd not even wanted Kurt around and given how they were clinging to each other and kissing each other, Burt knew that this was about as far from good as it could get.

Kurt let them into the house and dropped Blaine's bag in the hallway.  The pair of them went up to the bathroom where Kurt handed Blaine a couple of towels, explained the eccentricities of the shower, and then left him to it.

Going back downstairs once he heard the shower running, he moved the bag to the table and opened it.  A few sweatshirts, old tees, couple pairs of jeans, a change of shoes and underwear.  And a notebook.  Kurt recognised it as the one he'd given Blaine at the start of the summer, "For all the songs that come into your head," he'd whispered as he'd handed it over.  It was the only personal thing in the bag; Blaine had been depressingly practical in his packing.

Kurt removed a clean tee and a pair of sweat pants, taking them upstairs.  The shower was still running and he stood in the hallway, torn between the bathroom and his bedroom.  Choosing the former he knocked softly on the door.

"Blaine?" he ventured before opening the door a bit.  "Blaine, I've brought you up a change of clothes.  I'll just... leave them on the side, OK?"

"OK," came the mumbled reply from the other side of the shower curtain.

Kurt quickly gathered up the dirty clothes from the bathroom floor and left, pulling the door shut behind him.  He took them down to the laundry, putting on a load with some of his dad's and Finn's work gear.  It was only as he dropped them into the machine that Kurt realised this was the first time he'd properly seen his boyfriend's underwear.

(Fistfuls of it in the dark didn't really count as seeing it, especially when you were trying to shove it out of the way.)

Once the washing was on he went to the foot of the stairs and just listened.  The shower was off but he couldn't hear anything from upstairs.  Immediately he had a picture of an open window and Blaine jumping from it, but he shook the ridiculous idea from his head and climbed the stairs.  The bathroom was empty, the windows still slightly steamed from the shower.  The fresh clothes were gone and the towels Blaine had used were draped over the rack on the wall.

Kurt found Blaine in his room.  He'd climbed onto the bed, curled up, and from his body language it was clear that he was already asleep.  Smiling gently to himself Kurt pulled a blanket from the hall closet and draped it over his boyfriend so he wouldn't be cold.  Then he pressed a soft kiss into the wet curls and left, pulling the door to behind him.

Blaine slept for hours, long after dinner.  Finn was staying at Rachel's that night and Burt had promised that as soon as Blaine stirred he and Carole would either go out for a drink or go to bed, depending on the hour.

As it was it was it was just after nine when the three of them heard footsteps on the stairs.  Blaine appeared in the living room, his mussed up curls dried at weird angles, his clothing creased from sleep.

"There's some dinner left over if you're hungry," Carole said warmly.

"It's fine, thanks," is what Blaine said, but the way his eyes darted in the direction of the kitchen betrayed his hunger.

"You need to eat," Kurt said firmly, getting to his feet from the couch and walking over to him.

He slipped his hand into Blaine's and quietly led him through to the kitchen.  As he heated up the plate in the microwave he kept sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye at Blaine.  Never before had he seemed so... small.  Like he was retreating in on himself.  Suddenly his stomach turned over as all the bad thoughts that had been swimming around in his mind flooded back.

"Blaine..." he began, but stopped as he realised he didn't know how to continue.

"Why did I run?" Blaine finished for him.  "It's... complicated."

Kurt shifted from one foot to another.  "Just tell me your dad didn't hurt you," he blurted out.  "I just...  I'm just scared because it's not like you to just run off and your dad was waiting for us on Friday and I can't get it out of my head that he..."

"He never laid a hand on me," Blaine said earnestly.  "I swear it."

Kurt's sigh was audible, drowned out only by the ping of the microwave.

Carefully removing it he pulled back the plastic wrap, trying not to burn himself on the steam.  He put it on the counter in front of Blaine and pulled a fork from the drawer.

"You make this?" Blaine asked, picking off a bit of the lasagne and blowing on it.

"Figured you'd want something... decent.  When was the last time you ate?"

"I got something yesterday.  No, Saturday," he corrected.

"Why didn't you come here?" Kurt asked, his voice full of love and concern.  "No matter what I thought you knew that I would always be here for you."

"...I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"It's..."

Kurt knew he was pushing and it was clear that Blaine wasn't ready for this.  So he stopped, changing tact.  "It's fine, it's fine.  We don't have to talk about it now.  I'm just glad you're OK.  I was so worried..."

Blaine put the fork down.  "I'm sorry," he said, holding out his hand to Kurt.  "I really am."

"And whenever you're ready, OK?  We don't have to do anything, don't have to talk about it until...  Until you want to.  You're fine, you're safe, and your dad didn't hurt you.  That's all my main concerns laid to rest."

"Do my parents know where I am?" Blaine asked, his voice suddenly quiet.

"...We had to tell them," Kurt admitted.  "We called the police, Blaine.  You were missing."

"Right."

"Dad told them you were staying here.  You don't have to go back if you don't want to."

Kurt met Blaine's gaze and suddenly realised that was what he was most concerned about.  As he pulled Blaine into a hug he knew that whatever happened on Friday night it had happened in that home, with his parents, and he did not want to go back.

"You can stay as long as you want to, OK?" he said.  "Dad's orders," he then lied.

Kurt left Blaine to finish his dinner in peace and managed to catch his father before he headed upstairs.

"Everything OK, kid?" he asked.

Kurt bit her lower lip and shook his head, willing himself not to cry.  "He can't go home, Dad.  I don't know what... he just can't go home.  I've told him you said it was OK for him to stay..."

"Of course," Burt said.  "You know that's not a problem."

"No, but the next favour might be."

"What?"

"He's scared, Dad.  I have never...  And I just...  I need him to know..."

Burt sighed, knowing his son all too well.  "I trust you," was all he said.  "Do what you need to, OK?"  He smiled once and nodded briefly.  "Night, Kurt."

Kurt threw his arms around his father and hugged him tightly.  "Thank you," he whispered.

"Goodnight," Burt repeated, hugging his son back for a moment before heading upstairs to join his wife.

Kurt waited a moment to compose himself before returning to the kitchen.  Blaine was finishing off the last of the lasagne, his lies about how hungry he was blown apart by how quickly he'd demolished the food in front of him.  Kurt smiled to himself and pushed the fruit bowl a bit closer as he removed the now empty plate.

"Dad's fine with you staying..."

"You said," Blaine said as he picked up an apple.

"...with me, I mean."

Blaine paused, mid-bite, his eyes locking on Kurt.  He removed the apple from his mouth, the piece still attached to the fruit.  "I'm not going to run again, if that's what you're scared of."

"Well I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," he admitted, "but it's more than that.  I just...  I need you close, and I think you need me close too.  If I'm wrong then I can sleep in Finn's room tonight but I just thought..."

"No," Blaine said quickly.  When Kurt's face fell he stammered, "No, I mean... don't.  Don't sleep in Finn's room.  You don't need to.  Unless you want to..."

"No," Kurt replied just as quickly.  "I mean, no, I don't want to.  I just...  I don't know how to... what's too much, y'know?"

"Dad didn't hurt me, not physically anyway.  He just..."  Blaine sighed and found a fixed point on the other side of the room.  Looking at Kurt wouldn't help him if he was going to do this.  "Friday, when he was waiting for us?  He started yelling as soon as I was in the house.  Said I was making it hard for him to deal with things by being so obvious.  Like he wants me, wants us, to hide away.  It's fine me being gay, so long as I don't do it in public.  And one of his colleagues saw us the other week.

"He wants me to act like we're friends, old school friends.  Like I don't love you more than anything else in this world.  And no matter what I said he just kept going on about how it looked and how I had to be careful..."

"We know what people are like, Blaine.  We do have to be careful," Kurt stammered, trying to come up with a logical reason for this beyond the obvious.

"Not like this.  Not..."  Blaine sighed and drew his gaze back to Kurt.  "He made it quite clear what I had to do.  If I live under his roof then I live by his rules."

"So you decided to not live under his roof?" Kurt asked.  "This is like some..."

"Teen drama?" Blaine finished.

"What are you not telling me?" Kurt asked.  "There's something else..."

"Not tonight," Blaine whispered  "Please..."

"OK," he said, knowing if he pushed then Blaine would shut down – or worse, run again.  "I don't know what you want..."

"I know I shouldn't be, given how much I slept earlier, but all I want is to go to bed."

Kurt couldn't help but give a small smile.  "Come on then."

They were strangely respectful of the other, Kurt using the bathroom to change.  He knocked on his own bedroom door before opening it finding Blaine sat on the edge.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Not as if I've not been in your bed before," Blaine said.

"And I've been there for 50% of those occurrences," Kurt added, trying to sound light about the whole thing.

Like he wasn't about to share a bed with his boyfriend.  And with the blessing of his father no less.  Nothing was going to happen, they knew that, but this step was almost being pushed upon them.  If Kurt ran away to Finn's room they were scared of the message that would send, as if it was something that they didn't want.

"I don't even know... which side...  Do you...?"

Kurt found himself laughing at that, at how awkward they were being over this.  It was infectious and Blaine started laughing too.  Kurt walked over to him, still smiling, and stood over him, pushing one leg slightly between Blaine's to get that little bit closer.  Kurt held his boyfriend's face in his hands, looking down at him.

"I love you," he whispered.  "Whatever's happened, whatever you dad said or did, I will always love you.  And because of that I know that we can try and work through this."

"I love you too," Blaine whispered.  "And I'm sorry I didn't trust you.  I should have come here on Friday."

"Yes," Kurt said, kissing him gently, "you should have.  But you're here now.  Fashionably late.  As you always seem to be."

Blaine smiled before laughing gently.  His arms slipped around Kurt's waist and pulled him in closer.  Eventually they ended up laying on the bed, finding a comfortable position under the cover where they just held each other, looked at each other, let their fingertips brush over the other's skin until sleep claimed them.

Kurt slept on and off, as if his brain needed to constantly check that the nightmare of his weekend really was over.  Except it wasn't, not really.  Something had made Blaine run and that thought alone was terrifying.  He'd run once, Kurt knew that.  But that had been so, so different.  He'd run from a situation.  This time he'd run from those people who love him.  Blaine had run from him.

That was now the all-consuming terrifying thought.  Up until Saturday he'd have bet everything on him and Blaine.  His entire wardrobe, his boot collection, his life.  They were supposed to be solid, in love, planning a future in New York together.  And for some reason Blaine had chosen to run from him too.

He woke a final time just after six and lay there for a moment, just watching Blaine sleep.  Then realising that he was venturing into creepy boyfriend territory he slipped out of bed.  He ventured downstairs in search of coffee, giving a small yelp when he entered the kitchen to find his dad already up.

"Sleep well?" Burt asked.

"...Is there a right answer to that question?" Kurt replied, wondering how much his dad knew or wanted to know.

"I was just askin', kid.  No hidden meaning.  In fact, I'm tryin' real hard to avoid even thinking about any hidden meaning."

"Oh.  Right.  Yeah.  Fine.  Blaine too.  I think.  He's still asleep."

"He say anything?"

"Not much.  His dad didn't...  He wasn't..."

"That's something," Burt nodded, understanding what fear Kurt had been harbouring all weekend.

"Am I hard to talk to?" Kurt blurted out.

"What?"

"Am I difficult to talk to?  I know that I can come across as being a bit stuck up and aloof but does that mean you can't talk to me?  Like..."

"Hey, hey, hey," Burt said, getting out of his seat and moving over to his son.  "Where's this come from?"

"Something happened to him, Dad, and he didn't come to me.  He could have, I never would have turned him away and..."

"I know that, and I'm sure Blaine knows that too."

"So why didn't he come to me?  Why was he going to leave?"

"Have you read his letter?"

"Yeah," Kurt admitted.  "When he was asleep yesterday afternoon.  I thought it'd give me some clues..."

"But no?"

Kurt shook his head.  "He was just saying sorry, that he couldn't stay.  He said that he wanted to stay but he couldn't give me what I wanted and that it would be better for me if he left."  He stared at a spot on the counter.  "I just want him."

"I know, kid."

"I need to help him, Dad.  I need to know why he...  Something happened and...  I don't know what I'm doing though.  I have no idea how to support him through this because every part of me is screaming to grab him and shake him and make him tell me and not let go until he does.  Because not knowing is killing me and I'm scared that whatever happened might happen again and if he runs again...  And am I going to spend the rest of my life scared that he's going to run away?  If we have a fight is he going to take off?  Is this who he is?

"I thought I knew him, Dad.  I thought I understood him.  I know he ran from his old school but I always thought that was different.  I thought that he was doing it to protect himself..."

"Maybe he was this time, Kurt."

"That's just it, I don't know," he exclaimed.  "And I don't know if I should be worried about him not talking to me.  Because we've always told each other everything, Dad.  Always talked about stuff, even from the start.  I could talk to him about things that I couldn't with you...  Not that I wanted to keep it from you," he hurriedly added, "it's just..."

"I know, I know," Burt soothed.

"And he's told me stuff too and that was our thing.  We were honest with each other.  And now he's not being honest with me and I don't know how to deal with that.  I don't know if he thinks he's protecting me, or if he doesn't want to tell me, or if it's just... too big.  But there shouldn't be anything too big.  There is nothing, nothing that he could say that would make me stop loving him.  I thought he knew that."

"He probably does, Kurt.  But that doesn't always mean that you'll be honest with someone.  I don't know why he's not talking to you but I know that kid well enough to know he's got his reasons.  And right ones or wrong ones, they're his reasons.  It doesn't mean he doesn't love you and it doesn't mean he's going to run every time you two hit a bump in the road.

"But what it does mean, kid, is that you gotta learn patience.  You think I talked to Carole about your mom on our first date?  Hell, you think I talked to her after a couple of months of dating?  There's still stuff she doesn't know.  And it's not 'cause I want to keep it from her, it's 'cause...  Well, it's mine, y'know.  Mine and yours.  All those memories of your mom, all those things we did and trips we had?  They're ours and I'm not quite ready to share them just yet.

"But you know what?  If Carole walked in here now and asked me to tell her everything, I would.  Without hesitation."

"I want to ask Blaine, I really do."

"So why don't you?"

"Because..." Kurt sighed, realising where this was going.  "Because right now this is his."

"One day Carole's gonna know everything.  But she's letting me do that in my own time.  And I'll tell you something," Burt said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder.  "I love her more each day because of it."