~*~ Chapter Twelve ~*~

Help me get my feet back on the ground
(The Beatles; Help)

Senat sees off Bill No. Eight

The bill seems to take it so far most dreaded hurdle with ease

Until now head of the senat Brad Ronalds has been known for three things: His enormous beard, his love for high-proof alcoholic beverages and his short temper. Since today you can add letting one of the most important bills concerning hybrid rights pass without so much as a second glance to that list. As soon as the doors to his office had closed behind the representative of the committee, they were thrown open again, revealing Mr. Ronalds screaming, red-faced and waving the bill through the air. How dare anybody bother him with such ridiculous and insignificant matters, when he had important business to attend?

Perplexed the representative accepted the document, pressed into his hands and presented stunned the crawly signature drawn underneath it to the surrounding reporters. It must have been one of the most unseasonably events in law passing history, but in the end it had it desired effect: The bill has passed the senat and is now nearing the end of its journey. During the next weeks the congress will simultaneously present their final changes and in case they correspond with that of the senat the bill will be presented to the President. In the much more likely case that the two proposals contradict, representatives of the congress and the senat unite to the conference committee. If they are able to connect the changes the bill is presented to the President by a representative of the congress. The President then has the right to either veto the suggestion or let it pass through acceptance, or inactivity.

~*~

"Rachel, stop using all my nail polish!"

"But it's so pretty!"

"Put the orange back down, right now!"

"No! That's mine! Give it back! Kurt!" Rachel's finger stretched after the bottle Kurt was holding just out of her reach.

"No way. Your thumb is already pink. Stay with the colour."

Rachel crossed her arms and twisted her face into a exaggerated pout.

They were at Kurt's house, having selected Saturday evening to be perfect for one of their regular sleepovers and were currently stretched out all over Kurt's room. Kurt had collected every mattress, blanket and pillow he was able to find without having to roll one of his family members off them beforehand and strewn them across the room, creating a huge dormitory around his own bed. Gaby and Mercedes were already propped up against an immense amount of colourful pillows, chatting animatedly over some soap remake they were watching on Kurt's laptop and Kurt himself sat across from Rachel, a row of different nail polishes ordered in front of and a large blanket circling around them.

"But the pink is boring. I don't like the pink." She threw an accusing look at the pink bottle Kurt was trying to hand her.

Kurt ground his teeth in frustration. "You liked it just fine ten seconds ago."

"I hadn't seen the orange back then!"

"Rachel," Kurt said warningly and his friend huffed offended, but settled back on the floor.

"So," Rachel said slowly, trying and failing to blink innocently up at him, while she put the bottle down, "Does anybody else happen to be home?"

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Very subtle, Rach. "Well, Dad had something to do at the office – third time he has gone there during the last days and I'm seriously considering to start an intervention to find out what's going on – and Carole is working late." He stopped talking, absently painting the nail of his left thumb, as he watched Rachel's face fall out of the corner of his eyes. He let her stew until all his nails were covered in clear nail polish, before screwing shut the polish bottle and turning towards her again, seemingly just remembering something. "Oh, but Finn's here. Upstairs, I think, watching TV, or something." He shrugged, acting as if he did not notice how Rachel had light up at his words.

"Really? That's nice," Rachel said putting on a neutral expression and folding her hands delicately. A second of silence passed in which she stared transfixed at the door. From above the faint sound of shooting and screaming could be heard and then a loud thumb, that made Kurt's glare accusingly at his ceiling, tail tensing.

"I think ... I need to go and use the rest room." Rachel jumped up, straightening her suspiciously short skirt and checking her hair in the mirror next to the door. "How do I look?"

Mercedes snorted from the other end of the room. "Pretty enough to 'just go to the bathroom'" She formed quotation marks around her last words and watched amused as Rachel stuck out her tongue at her, before rushing out of the room with a dramatic slam of the door. "The girl's killing me," she stated, while Kurt closed the orange and the pink nail polish Rachel had left open in her hurry.

"As if they didn't see each other just hours ago."

Gaby curled her feet under her body, settling back against a pillow. "Zay, who elze will be coming tonight?"

"Oh, just Santana and Brittany," Kurt said, ears twitching in her direction, "Tina had date night with Mike and Quinn was obliged to attend some family dinner."

Mercedes sighed. "That's a shame. Tina and I planned on catching up on our dance show."

Kurt gave her a sympathetic look, but shrugged his right shoulder. "You know how her and Mike can be. There's very little that could come between them and their plans."

The doorbell rang and Mercedes only had time to cross her arms and murmur, "Still ...", before Kurt left the room, jogging up the stairs while blowing air on his wet nails. On his way up he passed the open living-room-door, eyes falling on Rachel elegantly draped across the armrest of their sofa and talking animatedly to Finn.

"That's not the bathroom, Rachel!" he called over his shoulder.

A surprised shriek and a thud came out of the living room and between Finn's concerned "Are you alright?" and Kurt's laughter, Rachel ordered her limbs with a sulking face.

"I was just asking for directions!" she insisted, rubbing the knee she had fallen on and slowly straightening up again. "Don't you have to get the door?"

Kurt's eyes widened and he hurriedly left Finn to help his friend up, before sprinting down the hall.

"You better have broken your leg, or something on your way up here, or otherwise I see no excuse for making us wait." Santana considered him with her best bitch glare, when Kurt threw open the door and pushed passed him into the hallway, Brittany in tow.

"Kurt, you've broken your leg?" Brittany's eyes grew big. "Are you wearing an invisible cast?"

Kurt soothingly patted her feathered arm, leaning forward to kiss her in greeting, before turning to Santana. "How nice to see you too, Satan. Please do come in."

Santana hissed hostile at him, split tongue darting out in a threatening gesture. Brittany silently grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, causing Santana's expression to soften and her face to relax. "Whatever." She shrugged, eyes falling on Rachel's disheveled appearance. "Why does Nosenberry look like she has fallen down your chimney?"

Rachel opened her mouth in protest, but Santana quickly put up a hand. "Oh wait, I just remembered. I don't care." She tugged at Brittany's hand, still firmly clasped in hers and dragged her towards the stairs. "We'll see you losers downstairs."

Kurt shook his head, confused. "God, she's in a bad mood, isn't she? Even for Santana."

Rachel shrugged, still sulkily straightening her hair. "Maybe her contract with Satan is running out."

"Brittany is being bullied at school," Finn chimed in and Kurt turned to him in surprise.

"How do you know that?"

"Puck told me," Finn answered, shrugging and propping up his feet. "He and Santana are close."

Kurt grimaced at the thought what 'close' in this context meant exactly, but then Finn's words registered in his mind. "Isn't the school board doing something?"

"They could, but you know ... she's a hybrid, so the law isn't on their side."

"It's time Bill No. Eight finally gets through," Kurt murmured, absently slapping Finn's feet from the table. "Come on, Rach. Let's get downstairs, before Santana vents her anger on my furniture." His worries were unfounded though, because when he and Rachel entered his room minutes later – after Kurt had to endure an overly dramatic and to his embarrassment even tearful goodbye between his possible-soon-to-be stepbrother and his best friend – her and Brittany were lying peacefully next to Gaby, fingers intertwined and heads resting on top of each other. Kurt's laptop rested on Mercedes legs, all four girls transfixed on the screen and just as Rachel closed the door behind them, Gaby clicked on something on the screen and the group broke into a fit of giggles.

"What are you looking at?" Kurt asked mostly curious, but with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't like there was anything illegal, or overly scandalous in his data, but still ... who knew what he had googled the last time out of boredom?

"Oh, nothing," Mercedes replied innocently, turning the device just so that Kurt could not catch a glimpse at the screen.

Kurt crossed his arms and considered her with a stern gaze. "Mercedes, give me my laptop." She looked unsure for a moment, eyes flickering between the screen and Kurt's frown, but then Rachel was wiggling between them, pulling the device closer to her and starring at whatever may be on the screen. "Oh, girls really?" she asked, not able to repress a chuckle, but other than that looking stern at her friends.

Gaby raised her hands conciliatory. "We? We were merely looking for zome music to put on."

"Yeah, not our fault if Kurtie-pie doesn't protect his data," Santana added, trademark smirk back in place and spirits seemingly lifted by the fact alone that there was someone to make fun of. Even if that someone happened to be Kurt, who was everything else but amused by his friends nosing in his privacy and still trying to get back his property.

Sighing he turned towards the – and he couldn't believe he had just thought that – most reasonable of them. "Rachel, what have they dug out?"

"Uh," Rachel's eyes flickered unsure between Kurt's flat ears and tense tail to Santana baring her teeth warningly at her.

"I'll let you go upstairs and tell Finn that I asked him to bring down some beverages for us," Kurt said quickly and before he could even blink his laptop was shoved back into his hands. Rachel was already up on her feet and scrambled frantically towards the doorway. "Be right back!" she called over her shoulder, skipping joyfully out of the room.

"Traitor," Santana hissed, but Brittany shook her head.

"All is fair in love and war," she said seriously, considering Santana with a scolding look, "You set the rule up yourself." Mercedes and Gaby laughed at Santana's aghast expression.

"You zet that one up for yourzelf, Zan," Gaby grinned. While the girls were bickering Kurt observed thoughtfully the file opened on his computer. It was a picture of Blaine and himself, taken after working far too long on their school work to function reasonable and in a spontaneous fit of silliness. Both of their hairs were ruffled, frustrated fingers having freed it hours ago from any product and Kurt's face was half-hidden in Blaine's shoulder. Still, nothing would have been able to hide the silly grin stretched across both of their faces and sometimes when Kurt was feeling especially low, or old insecurities were crawling back up his skin, he liked to call up this particular picture, reminding himself of happier times. Embarrassingly this must have also shown in his browser-history.

"How exactly did you get to my pictures, while 'searching for music' anyway?" he asked with raised eyebrows, desperately willing the blush rising in his cheeks away. He was not the one who had acted wrongly here after all!

"Not our fault if your last clicks can all be traced back to pictures of you and Mr. Perfect," Santana said to him, teeth baring.

"That's not true at all!" Kurt protested, mentally recapping his previous computer activity and blushing even further. "At least not entirely."

"He's right, San'," Brittany chimed in, smiling sweetly at her friend, "There was also an Itunes playlist called 'Blaine's songs' and – oh, and remember the collection of poems-"

"Thank you, Brittany," Kurt interrupted her through gritted teeth and Brittany blinked up at him innocently. "You're welcome, Kurtie."

The smile on Santana's face could have melted the Antarctic, rescuing some very tragic cruises, as she leaned forward and pecked the blonde on the cheek. "You're awesome, Brit," she told her and Brittany beamed.

Mercedes next to them pretended to vomit into Gaby's lap and Kurt barely hid his snicker behind an outstretched hand, as he threw a worried gaze towards Santana, but the girl was to busy whispering something into Brittany's ear to pay attention to them. The laptop in Kurt's hand made a humming noise and his gaze was drawn once more towards its screen.

"Aw, look at our smitten-kitten." To Kurt's surprise it was not Santana, but Mercedes who gushed over him this time.

"M' not," Kurt mumbled absently, but it was half-hearted and he could not help the dreamy smile overtaking his features, as he looked at the image one more time, before closing his laptop. "But I actually wanted to talk to you about the Blaine-topic anyway." He stopped, unsure about the best way to formulate his question, when suddenly Brittany giggled and Santana's attention was back on him full force. She smirked, taking in the way Kurt's hands fiddled nervously with each other, a blush rising on his cheeks once again and slithered closer to him, clapping a jovial hand on his shoulder, making him wince. "No worries, Kurtieskins. I know exactly what you want to say."

Kurt blinked at her. "You do?"

"Oh course," she drawled, arm sliding across his shoulder, "Though, I must say I'm confused and a little offended that you involved Bugs Bunny and Duffy Duck in the process -" She gestured vaguely at Gaby and Mercedes, who gasped offended. "- but Auntie Tana and her Brit-Brit, here can teach you all you want in the fine art of men hunting."

Kurt's mouth slowly dropped open. "I-what?"

"Just you see ... you'll have your little birdie in your lap in no time," she promised, one finger trailing uncomfortably intimate over his arm. "Although if you want real touchable explanation of the male anatomy, maybe I could call Puck for you. I'm sure he wouldn't be all too aversed to a little hand-on-hand practice, if you know what I -"

"Santana!" Kurt shrieked. "I'm not looking for sex-advice!" His voice lowered scandalized at the last part.

"Of course you aren't," Santana drawled exaggerated, patting his hand. "No guy is ever searching advice, but they never turn down a little training session with me and Brit and - especially for you - our door would be always open."

"I- oh my god – No. Just no. I'll ignore what you're implying and concentrate on the real issue here."

"Pleaze do," Gaby murmured, eyes wide and scarred, as she was bringing as much distance between her and Santana's wandering hand as possible.

"So, as I was about to say: A few days ago – I believe it must have been Thursday – Blaine and I met after school in his dorm -" Santana opened her mouth, eyebrows already waggling suggestively, but Kurt fixed her with a firm gaze. "No, Satan, just – No! Anyway, we met and talked for a very long time-"

"Talked," Santana fake-coughed.

"-and he shared a very personal part of his life with me, - which no, I'm not going to repeat, don't you pout at me 'Cedes! - and uhm ... it made me think. I mean, he and I have been very close friends for a while now -" He stopped, waiting for Santana's inescapable 'Yeah friends', but she shrugged and held up her hands in appeasement. "- spend a lot of time together and I realized ... I trust him. I really do, more than probably most others and I-"

He broke off, voice shaking and Mercedes, who had been dreading this conversation for a while, rubbed his arm soothingly. "Oh, boo."

"And then Blaine suddenly started talking about how glad he was that we were friends and that we could always be honest with each other, trust each other with everything and I felt so guilty. So, incredibly guilty and then he looked at me and I was so close to jumping back into his dorm and tell him everything." He turned his head, looking help-seeking at Mercedes, but she only half-shrugged, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Would that really have been so terrible?" she asked after a while, carefully studying Kurt's reaction. At first Kurt's whole body tensed, tail standing up and he opened his mouth with a determined expression, but then their eyes met and he deflated slightly, sighing and fiddling with his hands. "I- hm ... I don't know, to be honest. Would have depended on his reaction, I think, but I know that even if he didn't – even if he couldn't accept – ehm – I just know that he would never do anything to harm me."

"So, why are you still hesitating?" Brittany asked, raising her head from Santana's shoulder for the first time this evening.

Kurt considered her for a moment, seemingly weighing his answer carefully, until he burst out all the anxieties coming to his mind. "What if it's too soon? Or if he doesn't accept me? What if he hates me? Stops talking to me? Decides that my life is far too complicated for him to bother?"

"Whow, whow. Slow down, kitty." Santana interjected, both hands held protectively in front of her and Brittany. "One panic attack after the other."

"And I don't think it'z too zoon," Gaby chimed in, "I told my boyfriend after only two weekz."

"Yeah, but you were already together at that point," Mercedes argued.

"And nobody believed the story of the genetic overbite, anyway." Santana tapped emphasizing against her top lip. "But since KK and his birdie aren't getting their mack on yet – something I wouldn't have to say if he would just let me help -"

"No, Santana!"

"Ugh, whatever. I for my part doubt he can be trusted, after you've known him, what? Two months?"

"Fifty-four days," Kurt corrected, blushing bright red at her surprised stare. "Uhm, I mean, yeah about two months."

Santana whistled at him and Mercedes gave a her disapproving look. "You said though, that his views on hybrids are quite positive?" she asked, ignoring the fizzling of tongue Santana stretched in her direction and Kurt nodded in confirmation.

"Yup. The conversation came up a few weeks ago and even though at that time he didn't seem to have a real opinion about the topic, parroting the judgement of the public and his parents, he has realised his errors and was quick to adapt his knowledge. He has been doing lots of research lately – thanks to me on the right sources – and from what I've grasped he stands very positive to us."

"From what you've grasped?" Santana interjected doubtfully.

"Ztill. Two monthz iz a really long time," Gaby stated determined, "And you zaid you truzt him."

"I do," Kurt said with conviction and Mercedes leaned back against a pillow, sighing.

"Shouldn't that be enough reason, then?" She asked softly, causing Kurt to bury his face in the blanket next to her.

"You sound like my Dad," he mumbled, voice muffled and his friends laughed.

"Why have you talked to him about that?" Brittany asked.

Kurt raised his head. "'Course. He's the one risking property and honour after all."

"Hold on! So Papa Hummel approved and you're still not convinced? Boy, you've got it bad." Santana crossed her arms, raising an unimpressed eyebrow and Kurt shifted uncomfortable on the spot. "It's not that – well, it's also that, but there is so much else that could go wrong!"

"Oh, yeah? What's the worst that could happen?" Mercedes asked. "You already said that he wouldn't rat you out, so what else is there?"

"Ehr, hello? Heard anything from my rant earlier?" he asked irritated, flipping back his hair. "Freaking out? Stops talking to me? Doesn't want to be bothered by my drama?"

"How many people have freaked out before, when you've told them?"

"Rachel freaked out plenty."

"Oh, come on. Rachel freaks out over orange juice. She was mostly offended that you told me first."

Kurt sighed, biting his bottom lip and absently stroking one of his ears. "So, you really think I should tell him?"

The girls around him nodded and Gaby raised from her pillow-hill to look into his eyes. "In the end it'z your decision, but we don't think that anything zpeakz againzt it."

"Especially if you consider a serious relationship with him," Mercedes added.

"And if we're the first one to get pictures." Brittany grinned at him.

Kurt grinned back for a second, before crossing his arms and turning his nose up in the air. "Pft. What do you think of me? I don't kiss and tell."

The girls broke in a fit of silly giggles. "Oh, so you already plan on the kissing?" Mercedes asked innocently, while Santana whipped fake-tears from her cheeks.

"M' so proud," she mumbled, "My little baby, all grown up. I taught him so well." She sniffed for emphasise and Brittany cuddled closer to her. Gaby shook her head at them, but then her eyes fell on the still empty spot next to Kurt. "Uhm guyz? Did anybody elze notize that Rachel iz ztill gone?"

Kurt shook his head, looking around. "Really? I could have sworn I heard her squealing sometime earlier."

"That's because the annoyingly penetrance of her voice can neither be stopped by walls, nor distance." Santana stretched languidly, fingers wiggling into the direction where Rachel's laughter could be heard through the ceiling.

Kurt put his head back and sighed. "I'll go look for her," he announced, standing up and swishing his tail warningly across Santana's arm. "Behave while I'm gone."

"I don't know why you're looking at me," Santana murmured, while Kurt sauntered across the room. "Because you always get into trouble, " Brittany explained, patting her elbow, "But that's okay, because you're pretty." Kurt grinned to himself, as he caught Santana blushing almost imperceptibly out of the corner of his eye, before the door clicked shut behind him and he found himself alone at the bottom of his staircase. He trudged upwards, arms and tail swinging loosely with every step, following the voices floating out of the kitchen. He turned right and bumped open the door in front of him.

"... and I know it holds many bad memories, but – Oh, Kurt!" Rachel was curled together comfortably on one of their kitchen chairs, Finn across from her with his feet resting on his neighbour seat and two mugs in front of them. The big ones, that they normally only used at the beginning of an especially exhausting day, when a normal amount of caffeine just would not do and Kurt felt a confusing surge of anger flash through his chest at the fact that these two practically strangers looked more at home in his kitchen than he on most days.

Also the way Rachel had broken off mid-sentence and was now actively avoiding his eyes told him that he should really bring in experience what they had been talking about.

"Rachel?" he asked, half-curious, half-firm. "What are you doing here?"

Rachel folded her hands delicately, biting her bottom lip and Kurt leaned forward impatiently, fingers splayed out on the wood. "Uhm, talking to Finn?"

"Did you ask him to bring down some drinks for us?"

Finn frowned, confused. "Why should she have done that?" Rachel ducked her head guiltily and Kurt grimaced annoyed. "Oh my god, Rachel! What did you even talk about all the time?"

"Uhm," the girl hummed uncertainly, still not meeting his eyes and seemingly fascinated by the drink in front of her. Kurt narrowed his eyes and turned towards the person in the room most likely to cave.

"Finn," he said voice dangerously low and nails clicking threateningly on the table.

Finn shifted uncomfortable on his seat. "Uh, that's really – erm – I shouldn't du – I mean... Rach should tell you." He nodded, emphatically at the end of his sentence, seemingly relieved to have solved the situation to Kurt's delight.

"Finn!" Rachel shrieked in protest, slapping his arm and glaring at him, as he held up his hands in appeasement.

Kurt turned back to her. "So?"

"Well ..." she said slowly, eyes darting panicky between Kurt and the door and the hybrid precautionary took half a step to the right, blocking the exit and ready to tackle her the moment she moved. "Friday at school somebody took me aside to talk to me."

"Oh, really? Who?" Kurt asked carefully, but the way Rachel was squirming on her seat made an uneasy feeling settle in his stomach, so when she continued seemingly deaf to his question, he did not dare to interrupt.

"He was surprisingly friendly and even if I tried to avoid him at first, he was very persistent and able to explain his situation in a very honest and genuine way that made it impossible to not believe him."

Kurt's whole body tensed, tail curling protectively around his leg. "Who?" he asked again, voice barely above a choked whisper.

"And regarding your past with him, he knew that you would never be willing to talk to him on your own accord, so he contacted me, as your best friend, at first, to maybe get the opportunity to explain and apologize himself and -"

"Who, Rachel? Who?!" She broke off, eyes wide and pleading.

"Karofsky," she whispered and Kurt felt as if an bucket of ice water had been dropped above his head. He couldn't feel his legs. "Of course, I am save to assume that you sent him to hell immediately, right?"

"Uhm ..."

"Right?!"

"Well, Kurt you must understand! Understand that his words were very well chosen and you know how I can praise myself with quite the empathetic talents, so I -"

"Rachel!"

"I'm sorry, but I believed him." She crossed her arms, glaring right back at him for a moment, before her expression suddenly faltered.

"There's something else," Rachel murmured and Kurt would have missed she even said anything if he had not been glaring at her so throughout.

"What else, Rachel?" he asked, voice dangerously calm and Rachel fidgeted nervously on the spot.

"I-uhm Imayhavegivenhimyourcellphonenumber."

For a moment Kurt thanked his superhumanly developed hearing, or otherwise he could have had this talk just as well with a mice, but then the second his brain needed to part the words passed and his whole body recoiled as if he had been slapped. "You did what?" he exclaimed, tail swishing angrily from side to side and Rachel held up her hands guiltily.

"I'm sorry," she whined and her annoyingly shrill voice did nothing to soothe Kurt's anger. "But he seemed so sincere and honestly sorry. What can be the harm in talking to him?"

"What can be the harm in –" Kurt choked on his own words, fists clenching in front of his body. "Don't you remember what happened the last time I tried 'talking to him?"

"For the record, I think Rachel is right, Kurt," Finn chimed in, but ducked when Kurt's glare turned towards him, "I just mean ... if he really wants to apologize, shouldn't you at least hear him out?" He finished, voice getting quieter and slowly retreating behind his mug.

Kurt felt like he was choking on his own fury. "Do you have any idea- no, of course you don't!" He threw his hands up in the air in frustration, before turning to Rachel, eyes flaming. "But you!" He pointed an accusing finger at her, teeth baring on their own accord. "You knew exactly what he has put me through and you still – you still have the insolence to invade my privacy – my life, like that! How dare you!" His voice had raised during his rant, until he was full out screaming at the end and Rachel involuntarily stepped back, bottom lip trembling and eyes big and suspiciously bright.

"B-but I just wanted to help," she whimpered, arms hugging her body protectively, but Kurt was far too angry to care about that.

"By messing around in my life?" he hissed, "I can't remember asking for your help."

The first tears rolled down Rachel's cheek and from the lack of loud bawling and exaggerated sniffling Kurt knew that she was crying for real. A chunk of guilt settled in his stomach.

"I thou- hought it w-would help you m-move oh-on." She hiccuped pathetically.

"Rachel," he sighed, stepping forward and putting a hand on her forearm, "I'm sure you meant well, but you can't make these decisions without me." His voice was much gentler now, but still firm, eyes searching hers and a silent understanding passed between them.

"I kno-ow," she sniffed, "I'm so-ho sorry, Kurt." She hiccuped once more and Finn offered her a box of tissues, which she thankfully accepted.

"It's – well, it's not okay, but I can understand your reasoning," Kurt said, still rubbing soothing circles in her arm. "And so far he hasn't contacted me, or anything, so maybe he wasn't serious, after all."

Rachel was quietly snuffling into her tissue, the tears on her cheeks already drying, as she nodded emphatically. "Yes. Of course. I'm sure he chickened out." She bobbed her head again, but her reassuring grin was a little too cheerful and her eyes flickered worriedly towards Kurt's pocket, where she knew he stored his phone. "Everything will be fine," she added with an even wider smile and Kurt could not help but cringe at the fake joyfulness of her voice.

"Sure," he murmured, plastering something like a crooked baring of teeth on his face and hoped it could be mistaken as a smile. "How about we go back downstairs and -"

His phone buzzed in his pocket, signalling the arrival of a new text message. Kurt broke off mid-sentence, posture going rigid and eyes snapping up to meet Rachel's.

"Kurt," she whispered at the same time Finn exclaimed, "Dude!" and all three of them stared fearfully at the buzzing digit in Kurt's pocket.

With racing heartbeat and shacking hands Kurt fumbled around for a moment, before pulling out his phone. "Maybe it's just Mercedes, wondering where we – oh." He broke off when his trembling fingers finally managed to unlock the screen and his eyes fell on the unknown number. His whole body tensed, head ducking until his chin was sitting on his chest and arms curling protectively around his middle and when Rachel made a questioning noise and reached for him, he batted her hand away with a hiss.

"Wha-?" Rachel started, but Kurt was already jumping back, phone falling onto the table with a dull thud. His ears were pressed flat against his head, tail swishing from side to side and blown-up pupils staring anxiously at his friends.

"Kurt," Rachel said slowly, taking a cautious step in his direction, but Kurt quickly backed away, until his back hit the counter. He opened his mouth, but the only sound escaping him was a panicked meow and he quickly clamped a hand over half of his chin in embarrassment. He whimpered quietly.

"Kurt," Rachel said again, voice soft and low and Kurt's eyes snapped up to meet hers. "Breathe, you need to breathe." She moved forward again, slower this time and Kurt let her put a hand on his forearm. With a shudder he drew in a deep breath.

"I- m- just-" He spluttered and broke off, Rachel coming closer to pull him into her arms.

"Sh," she murmured, "We're here, you're fine. Can you tell me what happened?"

Kurt shook his head, then nodded, ears twitching. He cleared his throat several times, breathing still quick and shallow, but his head was clear and when he found his voice again there was only one word escaping his throat, "Karofsky."

~*~

Wednesday afternoon found Kurt and Blaine sitting at a yellow plastic table in the middle of a nearly empty diner. All week Kurt had desperately searched for an occasion to talk to Blaine in private, but as recent encounters had shown that was a lot easier said than done. Both of their lives got in the way frequently and so it had taken a painful crash between Nick and their gym teacher, Mr. Medson, causing their teacher to stumble against a statue, being brought down by it's weight and spraining his wrist in the process, for them to finally find some freetime. Nick had stayed unharmed trough the accident and while he had desperately tried to stop Mr. Medon's fall, the only thing left for him to do was calling the nurse office and lifting the statue back to its original place, with the help of a few fellow students. Mr. Medson was brought to the nearest hospital and latest news declared that he would return to Dalton the next day, but for the time being that meant two hours of freedom for his gym class and Kurt had jumped immediately at the opportunity, grabbing Blaine and dragging him off, before any of their nosy friends could follow them.

That's how they found themselves several minutes later in the kitschy restaurant, where - as Blaine had insisted - the best burgers in all Ohio were served.

Apart from them only three other person were occupying the small diner, two of them bored-looking staff-members, barely older than Kurt himself and scrolling through their phones behind the counter, while in a corner a corpulent man was devouring his impressive body weight in fast food.

"So, Blaine." Kurt smiled at his friend, sitting across from him and looking expectingly at him. The walk to their location had been filled with light small-talk, both boys expressing their concern – even if it was undeserved – over Mr. Medson's condition and Blaine filling his friend in about his last meeting with Seth, only two days ago, but now that they had sat down and hung up their coats, the time to stall seemed over and Kurt knew that he owned Blaine an explanation for kidnapping him so abruptly.

Kurt cleared his throat, considered how to start the topic. "You know how I had a sleepover with some of my girlfriends last weekend?"

"The ones you have as your phone background? That reminds me; Wes and David let you align to introduce them to us as soon as possible, or they'll seek them out and kidnap them themselves," Blaine said casually, shoving the open menu in front of him slightly to the side, as he finished examining the first pages.

Kurt chuckled in response, making a mental note to remind both of his friends that they were in happy relationships, before he could consider a get together between his new and his old life.

"That are the ones." He smiled briefly as he remembered the last weekend and even though his fight with Rachel had put a damper on the mood, a huge mug of hot chocolate and engulfing into the latest episode of his favourite soap with the girls had brightened him up considerable. "During our sleepover a few topics came up, among others also the issue of trust and I remembered what you told me last week, you know, about the fact that we can always trust to tell each other everything?"

Blaine nodded slowly. "I meant what I said, Kurt."

"I know, I know!" Kurt quickly assured him, reaching over the table for his hand. "I never doubted that. This is more about ... well, me."

"Okay?" Blaine said slowly, forehead furrowing and Kurt could practically see the wheels in his head turning. In his pocket he felt his phone vibrate, but he ignored it in favour of leaning closer to his friend.

"Yeah, you must know – oh." He broke off, when one of the teenagers behind the counter seemed to have noticed their appearance and slowly walked over to them, pocketing his phone in his vomit green apron and pulling out a greasy notepad.

"Welcome to Cindy's Diner. I'm Larry and I'll be your waiter tonight-" He looked up from his hands and into their faces for the first time, since he had arrived at their table, interrupting his bored rant immediately. A slow smile stretched on his face, as he took in the two boys in front of him. "Well, hello there."

Kurt smiled back unselfconsciously. "Hello Larry." Larry's grin widened, when he was adressed so directly and turned fully towards the pale boy. "Your first time at Cindy's?"

Blaine looked surprised and a little bit offended at the back their waiter presented him, as Kurt nodded. "Is it that obvious? Blaine has been here before, though," Kurt replied, briefly squeezing Blaine's hand that was still covered by his own. Blaine's heart gave a little leap at the contact and for a moment he was not even bothered by the fact Larry dismissed Kurt's last comment and their intertwined hands with a shrug, leaning slightly forwards and putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Nah, but I would've remembered such a handsome face." He winked at him, straightening up again and leaving Kurt blinking confused and blushing. "Have you decided on your order, yet?"

"Indeed, we have," Blaine said emphatically and Larry seemed again surprised to be reminded of his presence. They placed their orders, Larry taking a lot more time to advise and compliment Kurt on his choice of food – seriously? What kind of reason could someone have to praise choosing a chicken-burger over a wrap? - than necessary, but after an endless drag of minutes Larry threw them a last wink, before sauntering of in the direction of the kitchen, leaving them with the promise to be back with their drinks soon.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Blaine let out a disdainful snort. "What an idiot," he murmured, earning himself a surprised look from Kurt.

"I thought he seemed quite nice? A little overly enthusiastic maybe, but ..." He trailed off, unsure how to continue the sentence, when Blaine was angrily tearing apart a napkin- that Kurt would not even touch with a barge pole -, glaring after Larry's retreating figure.

"Of course you thought he was nice," Blaine said uncharacteristic sarcastic and Kurt raised a surprised eyebrow, about to ask what exactly he was referring to, when his fingers twitched beneath Blaine's seemingly bringing the other boy back to himself. The irritated frown vanished from his face and he hung his head, sighing softly. "Sorry. I was just ..."

"Being an idiot?"Kurt asked reproachfully, but he made no attempt to break their contact.

"Kind of." Grinning bashfully, Blaine removed the remains of his napkin with his unoccupied hand, before catching Kurt's eye again. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh, right. As I was saying we talked about trust and I realised there is a very important part -"

"Here are your drinks, gentlemen!" Larry had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, startling both boys and causing their hands to part and retreat under the table. At that Larry's smile widened even further, as he placed two insanely huge tablets in front of them. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" He asked Kurt and the boy shook his head shortly, annoyed by the second interruption. Larry continued to smile, while he told them some uninteresting guidelines about their food, before briefly frowning at their lack of response and retreating again.

Kurt sighed relieved, searching Blaine's gaze again, taking up their conversation. "I realised that there is a very important part of my life that you don't know about and I wanted -"

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Again. With an angry huff, Kurt snatched it out of his trouser, flipping irritated over the screen. His stomach turned, as he saw who the message was from.

"What is it?" Blaine asked concerned, watching the other boy pale noticeable.

"Just – God!" He let out a frustrated breath, when the device in his hand vibrated again. "Remember I told you about the one boy bullying me back at my old school?"

"The reason you came to Dalton?" Blaine asked back and Kurt nodded.

"In a fit of her usual craziness, Rachel decided it would be a good idea to give him my phone number and he has been texting me ever since."

"Rachel ... your best friend. Gave your ... ex-bully your phone number?"

"Yeah, I know. I can't believe it either, especially since she's one of the only ones that know – Anyway he seemingly sought her out during school, insisting that he wanted to apologize to me and of course little Miss Berry believed him." Kurt rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his glass.

Blaine hesitated for a second. "He isn't – erm, he isn't harassing you through text now, is he?"

"What? Oh no, don't worry. I think he really just wants to talk, but I .. I don't know if I can accept that, after all that time and – I don't know. Avoidance seemed the easiest method." He paused for a moment, thoughts drifting back to the countless hours spend in fear and anxiety over his bully, the long minutes hidden in empty classrooms, as he waited with batted breath until heavy boots walked past and mornings used to cover up yet another bruise, caused by a particularly hard locker slam. He had hated them, every single one who had caused him pain and made his school day a living hell and especially Karofsky, who had fixated on him from the first day, had taken up a special place in his hatred, but now, weeks after their disastrous last confrontation, his hatred had vanished somewhere along the line and the only thing left was a concerning feeling of uncertainty and a constant annoyance at ... everything – Rachel, Karofsky and especially himself.

"You know ..." Blaine said slowly, interrupting Kurt's thought and making his head snap up and meet his gaze. "You never told me why exactly you left your old school?"

His eyes searched Kurt's for a moment, full of a mix of curiosity and uncertainty and Kurt made sure to send him a reassuring smile. Because that was how their friendship worked sometimes, without words and the knowledge that they could ask these kind of questions without the other being offended, or shy to openly decline the question, when it got too personal.

"Ugh, yes." Kurt retched in the back of his throat, when his phone vibrated again on the table. "It's actually quite the depressing story, full of drama and misery, but I don't really feel that tonight. Would you be very disappointed if I gave you the short-version?"

Blaine quickly shook his head. "Not at all. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Also ..." Kurt hesitated for a moment, old anger fighting against compassion. "What I'm about to share with you isn't entirely my story to tell, so you have to promise me that this stays between the two of us, okay?"

"Of course," Blaine assured him and Kurt straightened up, cocking his head,.

"Hm, so I told you how I was bullied and that the one boy was dangerously fixated on me? Of course that was part of the reason I transferred, but the actual trigger that send my Dad on the roofs, was a situation in the locker rooms, right after school. I had recently had a very motivating talk with my Dad and strengthened by that I decided to finally call my bully out on his behaviour. 'No one pushes the Hummel's around' as my father used to say." He paused, a faint smile overtaking his features, as Blaine's lips curled upwards.

"Your dad sounds amazing," he remarked, after a moment of silence and Kurt nodded emphatically. "He truly is. Therefore, I staid true to his motto and after yet another painful locker shove, I lost it and ran after my bully, following him into the locker rooms and cornering him with all my anger and frustration. He reacted ... aggressive as it was to be anticipated, but what I didn't expect was him to shove me into a locker and kiss me."

Blaine's head snapped up, from where he had lowered his glass and he choked on his drink. "E-excuse me? He did what?"

Kurt shrugged, surprised at himself at how little it affected him to talk about this. "Told you, it's not only my story."

"Wait, hold on." Blaine tapped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, putting up a hand. "The one torturing you for your sexuality. Your biggest bully, is ... gay himself?"

"I guess so. He never confirmed it to me, of course. The situation afterwards was kind of a mess, with me shoving him off me and him lunging after me, pulling my hair and – well, I practically ran home." Kurt bit his lip, forcing the memories back in his head and drawing a deep breath to continue, "When I told my Dad, he threw a fit, immediately calling the headmaster and the school board, but when the only thing he received from them was ignorance he pulled me out. It was a spur of the moment decision of him, but probably one of the best he ever made. My friends were sad I had to leave, of course, but -"He stopped, when he noticed that Blaine was not listening anymore, mouth still hanging open in shock and staring at him. "What – I – wait, I'm still not over this and you are so calm. Why are you so calm?" he stammered.

"I don't know." Kurt shrugged again. "I've spend so many hours crying and over-analyzing the situation that now after all this time everything seems far too distant. Like somebody else has gone through this and I'm just retelling."

Blaine drew a deep breath, contemplating him for a moment. "Do you think ... that you are maybe repressing the memory?"

Kurt immediately shook his head. "No, I doubt that. I mean, I talked to my Dad about it – one of the most embarrassing talks I had ever to endure, I tell you - and Rachel and Mercedes insisted on taking up therapy, after I pulled them into trust. I've had several meetings with an especially nice therapist after that and she helped me a lot."

Blaine seemed relieved, face relaxing into a smile, as he took Kurt's hand once more. "So,is that what you wanted to tell me all evening?"

Kurt opened his mouth, considering the question, but then his eyes fell on Larry, who was approaching them once more with a wide smile for Kurt and so he simply sighed and nodded.

"Yes, I – erm I thought you deserved to know such an important part of my past," he murmured, barely fighting the lump of guilt forming in his throat. Before Blaine could ask further, Larry reached their table and positioned himself in front of them with the familiar overenthusiastic smile.

"Did you find everything to your liking?" he asked cheekily, making sure to let his arm brush against Kurt's shoulder. Kurt cleared his throat and unobtrusively shifted his weight, breaking the contact. He still was not overly fond of intrusions of his personal space – it had taken long enough to accept and even enjoy these casual touches from his close friends, but he was not anywhere near tolerating them from practically strangers. Larry did not seem affected by this however, since he simply leaned closer to him, by putting a hand on their table. "Need anything else?"

"No, thank you," Kurt declined politely, leaning back in his chair and bringing as much distance as possible between them and Larry seemed taken aback.

"Well, if you're sure -"

"We are," Blaine interrupted, making a point of openly squeezing Kurt's hand on the table and Larry huffed and took off rolling his eyes.

"See my point now?" Blaine murmured, glaring after him.

Kurt shrugged, his gaze falling on their entwined hands. "Oh, that reminds me ... there is something else I've meant to ask you a while ago – Is that Wes and David?" While he had been talking his eyes had left Blaine's only for a second, falling on a movement behind his back and he craned his head to get a better look. Behind the window the unmistakeably silhouettes of Wes and David had appeared, peering through the glass door, before spotting them and breaking into exaggerated waving-motions.

"No way," Blaine said turning around as well, "Oh my god, seriously?" He raised an eyebrow, expectingly looking at the two boys as they entered the diner and approached them, matching guilty expressions on their faces.

"This is not what it looks like," David exclaimed, as soon as they were within earshot, causing Kurt to cross his arms and give them his most sarcastic 'Yeah right'-expression.

"We really didn't follow you," Wes emphasized, looking at them pleadingly. "I mean, of course we thought about it, but you two were gone way to fast, so we went back to our room with Nick and Jeff."

"And then we all got incredibly hungry," David continued, "And drew lots who had to get food and of course it hit Wes and he didn't want to go alone and - you know that they have the best burgers around here!"

"See, I told you," Blaine murmured triumphantly towards Kurt and the other boy rolled his eyes fondly.

Wes sighed relieved when the attention was taken from them and let himself fall on a red plastic chair. "I could eat a walrus!" he declared, seemingly unaware of the glare Kurt directed at him the moment his bottom touched the chair.

"I don't remember inviting you to sit with us," he snapped, because really? How was he going to get over with this talk if people just kept interrupting?!

"Ah, don't worry Kurteskins." David clapped a jovial hand on his arm, falling down in another seat and making the other boy flinch. "We have no intentions to disturb your lovey-dovy time. Just pretend we aren't here." Kurt opened his mouth, about to tell them where exactly they could stick their pretence, but in that moment Larry approached their table, notepad in hand and cheerful smile on his face.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" he greeted Wes and David happily, throwing a charming smile in Kurt's direction, "I see you got a little addition to your group. Good friends of yours, Kurt?"

"Depends on my mood," Kurt answered drily, causing Larry to burst into a fit of laughter and nearly drop his block on David's head, who raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

Blaine crossed his arms, ignoring the fact that the corners of his mouth had twitched up as well and grumbled, "That wasn't even that funny." Kurt just looked mildly confused, as he pushed his drink in Larry's direction, when he started choking on his own laugh.

"So," Wes said icily, leaning forward and throwing an unimpressed glance on their waiter's name tag, "Larry. Care to take our orders?"

Larry coughed once more, before straightening up and turning away from Kurt for the first time since he arrived. "Of course." He smiled professorially, pulling out a pen. "Have you already decided on what to eat and drink?"

Wes and David placed their orders, two simple milkshakes and Blaine raised a questioning eyebrow, but decided to ask them later as to why they gave up their original plan. When Larry had clapped his notepad shut, threw one last wink in Kurt's direction and sauntered of with the promise their drinks would be right with them, Wes and David turned simultaneously towards Kurt.

"Who was that?" Wes asked, looking after their waiter with as much detest as he could muster.

"Larry." Kurt chimed up at the same time as Blaine grumbled, "Our waiter."

"He looks like an idiot," David stated, crossing his arms and glaring at Kurt. "What do you want from someone like that?"

Kurt raised a baffled eyebrow and Blaine - even though he full-heartedly agreed with their sentiment - was just as surprised by their open hostility.

"I- what? You've talked for like two seconds," stammered Kurt, throwing a quick glance towards the open kitchen door.

Wes mirrored David's position and shook his head. "But just look at him! That clothes-"

"He's wearing an uniform," Kurt interjected.

"-and have you seen his hair? I bet there's a reason nobody else is here today."

"Uhm, yeah because it's Wednesday afternoon, this is a quiet area and everybody else is still in school, or at work?" Kurt looked help-seeking towards Blaine, but the other boy was busy shoving the rest of his food from right to left on his plate.

"Pft, yeah that's what he would tell you." Wes snorted at his own joke. "I mean, who does he think he is?" He asked exaggerated, ignoring Kurt's silent, "Our waiter?"

"Dancing around here like he owns the place and flirting unprofessionally with random customers!"

Kurt blushed slightly, throwing a careful glance at Blaine, who was still picking glumly at his food. David was already opening his mouth to continue his friends rant, but they were interrupted by the arrival of their drinks. Silently all four boys watched as Larry placed two ridiculous large milkshakes in front of them, before straightening up and smoothing down his apron. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" His gaze wandered towards Kurt, who had shook his head. "Some dessert, maybe? Something sweet for you sweets?"

"I think we're fine," Blaine replied shortly and Larry detached his eyes from Kurt to turn towards him in surprise. He was met with three icy stares and a dismissive hand gesture from David, that made him step back involuntarily.

"Alright then, gentlemen. Call for me if you need anything," he said, smile a lot tighter and looking a little offended as he retreated in the kitchen.

David crossed his arms looking after him. "God, now we know why he's the only one in here."

"Surely they've run away because they hate him," Wes added.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Or maybe they just don't work today?" he suggested, slightly annoyed.

"Because they hate him." David nodded and Kurt sighed.

"Wes. David. Stop bashing our waiter."

"But he's an idiot!" Wes whined and Blaine snorted, but quickly hid it behind his hand, when Kurt glared at him. The boy shook his head reproving at his friends. "Weren't you about to get food for Nick and Jeff?"

"I don't think they would mind some alone time." Wes shrugged, momentarily distracted from throwing deathly glares at their waiter. "They were horribly eager to get rid of us."

"Oh, so you do notice when you're unwanted?" Kurt asked bitingly, causing Blaine to squeeze his hand soothingly under the table. David gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. "We highly distinguish between honest aversion and friendly teasing," he stated and Kurt gaped at them.

"Friendly tea-"

"So, Kurt!" Blaine quickly interjected. "You wanted to ask me something, before we were interrupted?"

His friend considered him for a moment with a look that said that he knew exactly what Blaine was doing, but the he shrugged, nodding along. "Uhm, yes. I wanted to invite you to our Friday night dinner? My Dad has been bugging me about this for a while now, so I thought I should pass that he would really like to meet you."

Blaine gulped, while Wes and David giggled into their milkshakes. "Your father? Wants to meet me? This Friday?" His voice increased in pitch with every word and Kurt rubbed his forearm worriedly.

"I – yes? If that's okay? It doesn't have to be this friday, if you're busy, but sometime soon?"

"Kurt," Blaine said slowly, stalling, while his mind and imagination were running wild, "Of course I would be honoured ... It's just that – erm. Meeting your family, huh. That's kind of – er..."

"Scary?" Wes asked helpfully.

David raised an eyebrow. "Soon?"

"Unexpected," emphasized Blaine, relived to have found the most unoffending word. "But I would love to visit your house, Kurt. Just, maybe not this friday?" He asked carefully, locking eyes with the other boy.

"Of course," Kurt nodded widely, grinning from ear to ear. "Next week, then?"

Blaine gulped again, a nervous smile overtaking his features. "Okay."

"Excellent," Kurt clapped his hands joyfully, ignoring Wes and David's giggling at his overly enthusiastic gesture. "Now that that's settled, maybe we should call it a day?" He gestured towards their empty plates and glasses and the angry glares they were receiving from the girl behind the counter.

"Yeah, let's go, before Wes and David get us kicked out," Blaine said, causing his friends to let out two offended 'Hey!'s simultaneously. He and Kurt raised, Blaine grabbing both of their bags, as Kurt went to get their coats and side by side they exited the diner, leaving Wes and David to hurry after them.

"Hey, why is it that Blaine gets to meet the parents and we don't?"complained David, slightly out of breath when he and Wes caught up with them just outside the building.

Kurt raised an unimpressed eyebrow at them. "Because Blaine is the dapper gentleman you like to impress your parents with, while you ... you are more the kind of friends everybody hides in their closet."

Wes wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, probably about to say something along the lines 'Oh, I bet Blaine will have going to hide in your closet in no time', or 'As if Blaine wouldn't like to hide in your closet', but Blaine considered his friends with warning looks and Wes remembered all too vividly what had happened the last time they had truly pissed him off. His gavel still had scratches that would never heal. So instead, he and David stayed silent during their little walk, waiting until their cars came in sight, before they broke out in a dramatic race, that was won by David – but only by an inch, as Wes insisted.

They said their goodbyes, Blaine pulling Kurt into a tight embrace that was commented with loud 'Oh's and 'Ah's by Wes and David, before promising to text each other as soon as they got home and reluctantly parting. Kurt let himself be hugged by the rest of his friends after that and with a last shy smile towards Blaine he got into his car and drove off.