Chapter Nine: Team Rocky Road

The morning sunlight came streaming through the kitchen window as Pete Sterling wordlessly handed his fiancé Rebecca a mug of coffee, sweetened and with a splash of milk.  Accepting it with a nod of thanks, she wrapped her free hand around his waist, pulling him into an embrace.  The last week had been difficult for a lot of people connected to them, but because Pete's heart was held by Rebecca and hers by him, he felt her pain and regret the most.

Dropping a soft kiss on to her forehead, he offered in a low voice, “Go sit at the table, Bec.  I'll bring you some toast in a minute.”  He watched as she pulled away, not quite ever making eye contact with him, and slid soundlessly onto the kitchen table bench, to stare into her coffee, as if looking for answers to questions she hadn't yet voiced.

Frowning, Pete went about the motions of placing the bread in the toaster, pulling out the butter and raspberry jelly and a knife.  It was after he'd laid out everything that he heard his grandmother pad into the kitchen she'd owned for nearly seventy years.  She smiled at him, placed a dry kiss on his cheek and then moved over to the stove where she went about making her morning cup of English Breakfast tea.   

There is something safe and comforting in routine.  And Nana Sterling's routine of making a cup of tea and eating her bowl of Cheerios and sliced bananas was a constant reminder to Pete that life both moved on and remained the same.  The routine was the same the morning after his grandfather had passed away, and on the day his brother David and his wife Ruth had brought Nana's first great-grandbaby into the world. 

When he'd made Rebecca's toast, he brought it over and sat with her and his grandmother – watching them both eat.  “I never realized how quiet the house was,” he commented.

Nana set her spoon down in her cereal bowl and caught his eye.  “You really haven't had the opportunity what with your schedule being what it is.  But you're right.  The boys leaving early certainly has left a vacuum,” she said frankly.  She placed a weathered hand over Rebecca's when she noticed her future granddaughter-in-law beginning to tear up. 

Sitting across the table from both Pete and Rebecca, Nana looked at both of them.  The guilt of what had happened was clearly written on both of their faces.  “You both made mistakes.  Both of you said things that you either didn't mean or were misconstrued.  You can't change that – but you might be able to repair the relationships you've fractured – if you want to, and if you don't let it fester for too long.”  She sipped on her tea, giving time for her words to sink it.

She stood and took her cereal bowl to the sink and washed it out, leaving it in the drying rack for now.  Leaning against the tile counter, she smiled kindly at the couple.  “I give both of you credit for taking on the responsibility for supervising four teenage boys for the summer.  And not just this summer.  It's a difficult thing to raise teenagers when they are yours – and these boys aren't.”

Pete sighed deeply.  “Nana, things are worse than when the boys left.”  He ran a hand through his short strawberry blonde hair, shaking his head at the memories of Saturday's confrontation at Dalton.

“Oh, I know, my dear.”  Maggie Sterling raised an eyebrow at her oldest grandson.

Confused, Pete looked at his grandmother questioningly.  “How would you know, Nana?”

She picked up the dish drying towel and threw it at Pete with exacerbation.  “Because, my love, while you and David, and Aaron may have turned to your grandfather for advice, Jeffrey and Austin have always come to me.”  Watching as Pete folded the towel neatly, she continued, “Austin called me Saturday night.  In tears.  Because he has convinced himself that his oldest brother hates who he is.”  She crossed her arms, leaning a hip against the counter.

The chair he'd been sitting in flew backwards as Pete Sterling stood suddenly.  “Nana! How could he think that?  I love him.”  Pete knew that Austin had been upset when they'd left – and he had tried to call his youngest brother, but he hadn't picked up his cell phone, forcing Pete to leave three or four lengthy voice mail messages.

Nana came back around to sit at the table, motioning for Pete to sit back down.  “I heard Austin's side of the story.  Why don't you give me yours – and try to embellish a little bit beyond what you would write down in an official report, please,” she asked gently, knowing how seriously Pete took his job and his role as an older brother.

After Pete had relayed his version of the events of Saturday, with a few additions from Rebecca, Nana folded her hands neatly in front of her and stared pointedly at her grandson.  “I want you to put yourself in your brother's sneakers, Petey.”  Her use of his childhood nickname jolted him.

“Sure, okay,” he said, leaning back in the chair, but maintaining his hold on Rebecca's hand.

“When you said that you and Rebecca, and your parents, wouldn't approve of Kurt and Blaine – what do you think he heard?”

Pete began to shake his head in frustration. “Nana, that's not what I meant,” he blurted in a raised voice.

Nana held up her finger.  “Peter Matthew, don't take that tone with me.  You are frustrated with this situation – not with me, and I won't have you raising your voice.”

“I'm sorry, Nana,” he immediately apologized, dropping his head in embarrassment.

Tilting her head to the side, Nana returned to her questioning.  “I asked you to put yourself in the size 12 sneakers of that beautiful boy who is all of fourteen years old.  Do you remember that age, Petey?” 

She paused for a moment, then continued.  “When his oldest brother, who he has idolized since the day he was born, said that he and their parents wouldn't condone the behavior of his two friends – his two gay friends - what do you think he heard?”  Honestly, with all her years of practice, Nana could be like a hungry dog gnawing at a bone.  She wasn't going to let this go.

Pete stared at the ceiling, not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.  “That we didn't condone their homosexuality.  He thought the behavior I was talking about was tied to their being gay, not my issue that they were in a locked bedroom doing…whatever they were doing.  But Nana, are you actually saying that I shouldn't have said something?  Because you have always reinforced with us that certain behaviors weren't acceptable.”  Pete looked at his grandmother with open curiosity. 

Nana laughed at Pete's weak attempt to steer this conversation back to something he was more comfortable discussing.  “Pete Sterling.  You are not a stupid child, but sometimes I wonder if your father wacked you upside your head one too many times as an infant when he was walking through doorframes.  This is my house.”  She gestured around her with both hands.  “Yes, I have rules and expectations that I make clear to everyone who comes over.  But I am an old woman – and you all humor me because of it.  It wasn't your place,” she pointed at Pete, “to say anything to Austin or Blaine.  If you had a concern, you should have told your parents.  That's the difference between being a brother and being a father.  You blurred the lines.”

“Also, I would like to point out that I allow you and Rebecca to live here – in the same bedroom – without you having taken marriage vows.  And please do not insult my intelligence and try to pretend that you are ‘waiting until marriage' because we both know that isn't true.  Old doesn't mean deaf and your calling the Lord's name rivals the most intense summertime church tent revival.  You and I both know that your grandfather would have never allowed this.  But he isn't here, and if I choose to bend the rules – I get to.”

Both Pete and Rebecca flushed deeply at Nana's frank words.  “Nana, I…we.”

“Oh, shush,” Nana cut Pete off.  “Old also does not mean dead.  Your grandfather and I enjoyed ourselves.  It isn't something to be ashamed of.  How do you think we had your father and his brothers?”  She said smiling before becoming more serious. 

“But this discussion isn't really about me and your grandfather, or even about you and Rebecca.  It's about your relationship with your brother.  What you said in front of Austin – cut him to the bone, for reasons of which I am fairly certain you are not even aware.  If you don't fix this, Peter, Austin won't come to the wedding.”  She stopped at Pete's harsh intake of breath.

“Nana?  It's that bad?” he asked hoarsely, close to tears.

“Yes.  It is,” she answered directly.  “You can fix this, Peter.  You can.  But you are going to have to listen to what Austin tells you.  You need to make sure he knows that you will always love and accept him – always.  And it needs to be just the two of you, at least at first.  Rebecca will be your wife in six weeks.  She has been a part of Austin's life since he was six.  But right now, he needs to know his older brother loves him unequivocally.”

Pete wiped away the moisture from his eyes.  “I do love him, Nana.  I've tried calling him.  He won't pick up and I don't know if he's listening to my voice mail messages.”

“Well, Austin and I have a dinner scheduled for next Friday night.  Jeffrey's girlfriend had offered to take me to Westerville.  Perhaps you can drive all three of us,” she offered politely.

Staring at the table for a long moment while a thousand thoughts ran through his head, Pete finally looked up at his grandmother.  “That would be great, Nana.  Thank you.”

“You're welcome, love.  I don't like it when my boys fight.  Any of them.  So…now that we have a plan of action for fixing that situation – shall we discuss how you two are going to fix things between you and Blaine and Nicholas.”

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“Oh my god, what is that delicious smell?  Blaine Anderson, will you marry me?”

“Dude! Did you make cookies?”

“Wait, Blaine made cookies?  Where are they?  Can I have one, B?

Blaine rolled his eyes at the comedy team that were his roommates.  Waving his hand towards the cooling racks, he said, “Be careful.  They just came out of the oven – but yes, those are for us.  The ones in the plastic container are for Kurt.  And Nick, we've discussed this.  If it weren't for the sex – and the fact that I'm in love with Kurt – and, well, the sexy times with Kurt – I would totally marry you.  If you want more cookies, all you have to do is ask – or offer to do the dishes.  Your offer of marriage, while appreciated, is a bit over the top.”

“Oohmah hot hot hot,” yelled Jeff, as he lunged for the refrigerator, flinging the door open and drinking milk straight from the container.  “Fuck, B.  Those were hot.  Burnt the roof of my mouth,” he explained, placing the milk back where he'd gotten it.

Blaine and Nick rolled their eyes together.  “Right.  Because Blainers here was unclear when he said they had just come out of the oven,” snarked Nick.  “Oh, and you owe the household more milk – because no one is drinking out of that one.  I don't even want to think about where those lips have been, Sterling.”

Jeff turned crimson and walked out of the room without further comment.

Austin watched his brother's exit and turned back to the other boys.  “Before you ask, I don't know what that was about.”

Nick chewed on his bottom lip.  “Shit, I need to go talk to him.”

Snagging the container filled with cookies, Blaine grabbed Austin's arm pulling him out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder.  “Fine.  We'll be down in my car.  You've got ten minutes to kiss and make up.  After that, we're leaving.  If you and Jeffy decide to have a bromantic night in, text me so we can take off.” 

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Blaine turned on the engine to his car so they could run the air conditioning and the radio.  Shucking off his sandals, Austin rested his feet on the dash.  “When is Kurt's test?” he asked.  He'd only paid attention to the information that if he wanted to go cheer on Kurt, he needed to be ready at 4:30.

“7:00.  He asked for the last slot – hoping that fewer people would be hanging around if he did so.”

Reaching to the side of the seat, Austin lowered the seat to a more comfortable position.  “So he's still nervous?” he asked, looking over at Blaine.

Nodding, Blaine added, “I'm pretty sure he's actually terrified.  But not in a ‘I'm terrified of the water' way like he was in June, but in a ‘This is really fucking important and I don't want to screw it up' sort of way.  Not that makes any sense.”

“No, B.  I get it.  Really.  Just because I know that my family will love and support me no matter what, it doesn't make telling them I like boys any easier for me.”  Austin closed his eyes and rocked to the beat of the music.

“How are things going?” Blaine asked.

Austin turned his head toward Blaine, but kept his eyes shut.  “With Owen?  Really great.  With my parents? No change.  With Pete?”  Austin hesitated and began pushing down his cuticles with his thumb nails.  “He's called a bunch of times.  Left a couple messages.  I deleted them,” he replied sadly.

Blaine dropped a hand on Austin's wrist.  “A.  You can't shut your brother out like this.  Okay, let me start over.  You shouldn't shut your brother out like this.”

“But after what he said-” Austin began.

Turning in his seat to face Austin, Blaine held up his finger.  “Look, I'm not saying Pete was right.  Because he wasn't.  But you weren't in the room when he explained himself.  We both, you and I, we both misconstrued what he said at first.” 

Wetting his lips with his tongue, Blaine tried to explain himself further.  “All I'm trying to say here is that you and Pete have a really good friendship on top of being brothers.  Despite your age difference.  There's ten years between Cooper and me.  We've never had what you and Pete have.  And we never will.  I would just hate for you to throw that away,” he finished quietly still holding on to Austin's wrist.

Twisting his hand, Austin intertwined their fingers and squeezed.  “Thanks for telling me that, B.  I think what I appreciate the most about our friendship is knowing you will always tell me honestly what I need to hear – not what I necessarily want to hear, but what I need to.  Thanks for that.”  Then, because he was a Sterling, he added, “And thanks for any and all future advice on sex, sexual technique, guys, blow jobs, boyfriends, and sex,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face.

Bursting out with laughter, Blaine wrapped and arm around Austin's neck and pulled him close, running his knuckles over the freshman's head.  “You think you're so funny, do you?  I bet you've gone further than me.  Maybe you should give me some advice, eh?”  Blaine released Austin.

Austin made a face.  “Probably.  But it means something, B.  After everything went down last Saturday, we talked.  Owen and I are on the same page.  It means something to him too.  I just thought you should know.  Since you kinda brought it up in the first place.” 

The last part of Austin's sentence came out just as Jeff and Nick threw open the car doors.  “Um, what exactly did you bring up, Anderson?  And with my baby brother?” teased Jeff, sliding in to the car and shutting the door.

“The question of your sanity,” Blaine sassed back.

Everyone laughed.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Jeff leaned forward and reached out to squeeze his brother ‘s arm.  “You know, A…I wouldn't be upset if you found someone as awesome as Blaine to be with.  I mean, I know Blaine's got Kurt.  I just want you to know, that…whoever you choose…if they make you happy, and treat you right…then I'll love him…or her…because you do.  And I love you.  Okay?” he asked quietly.

Austin couldn't help the tears that spilled down his cheeks.  “'Kay.  I love you, Jeffy,” he rasped out, reaching his hand across himself to cover Jeff's hand.  Blaine and Nick covered their hands in a show of silent love and support.

“Oooh,” Blaine said loudly, pulling everyone away from their thoughts, “It's Pink.  Turn it up, A.” 

Their drive to Lima was filled with the sounds of four voices harmonizing - four friends working together to create something none of them could on their own.

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As much as he was trying, Kurt couldn't quite stop his hands from trembling while he was changing into his swim trunks and shirt.  There was a strange mixture of emotion and nerves making its home in his stomach – and not just because he had some fairly traumatic memories of being in this locker room, thanks to Dave Karofsky.  Grabbing up his towel and goggles, he shut his locker and made his way out onto the pool deck.

The smell of chlorine was even more overpowering given the indoor facilities.  Making his way over to Mr. Jackson, the P.E. teacher and department chair who was supervising the proficiency tests, Kurt greeted him.  “Hi Mr. Jackson.  I have a 7:00pm appointment.  Last name of Humm-”

“Hummel.  You were in my class for two years.  I know who you are, Kurt.”  Mr. Jackson smiled warmly at Kurt then looked down at his clipboard marking something down.  “You're the last one to check in, so we can start your group now.  Let's go talk to the others.” 

Mr. Jackson led Kurt over to a nearby bench where three boys and a girl were already sitting.  “Okay, lady and gentlemen, let me explain how this will work.  You'll start in the lap pool first.   You will need to be able to swim up and back in three different strokes.  You may take a short rest break between the different types of strokes but not during.  As you can see, I have six members of the varsity swim team, all of whom are also certified life guards, who are helping keep you safe.  They will not hesitate to pull you out if you get in trouble, although, given this is a lap pool – you could always just stand up.”  Even though he was clearly emphasizing the obvious, Mr. Jackson's tone was encouraging, as if he believed that all of them were perfectly capable of passing this test with flying colors.

He continued.  “When you pass that portion of the exam, you will move on to the diving pool for the water treading portion.  If you can't pass the swimming test, we don't move you on.  Its…” he hesitated for a moment, “rather like your driving test.  I assume most of you have taken that, yes?”  Seeing five heads nodding, he said, “Well, this is like that, in that, if you fail the driving portion, the DMV doesn't have you continue with the parallel parking, right?”  He laughed quietly with the students.  “If…and I do mean if, that happens, then we can have a private conversation about what steps to take next.”

Tilting his head to the side and then back, he asked, “Any last minute questions?”  Seeing that there were none, he swept his clipboard out towards the lap pool.  “Well, then, grab your goggles if you brought them.  Pick any of the eight lanes, although I do believe Kurt, you should take lane one.”

Kurt looked up from his hands, startled at being addressed directly.  “Mr.  Jackson?”

The P.E. teacher grinned at him.  “Did you not notice your fan club, Kurt?”  He jerked his head towards the stands where people would normally sit to watch a swim meet.  “I have never, in twenty two years of teaching, seen such an outpouring of support,” he commented quietly.

Staring in disbelief, Kurt felt his eyes well up with tears.

From the stands, the Dalton boys and company saw that Kurt had finally noticed them.  Blaine, Austin, Nick, Jeff, Scott, and little Paulie Jacobs stood up, yanking off their t-shirts to reveal their painted chests which spelled out “GO KURT” as if they were at a major sporting event.  Jordan, Tori, Meghan and Mrs. Jacobs sat two rows above the boys with poster boards reading “We heart you Kurt”, “Swim for the win” and “Team Rocky Road!”

Wiping away the excess moisture, Kurt couldn't help but giggle nervously.  As he approached lane one, he yelled out to his friends, “I question your sanity.  Daily.”

“You love us and you know it, Hummel,” called Jeff excitedly.

Mr. Jackson, who had walked over with Kurt, asked, “Family, Kurt?”

Meeting his former teacher's eyes, he replied, “No, Mr. Jackson.  Really amazing friends.  They work at the pool where I learned to swim this summer.  They… didn't tell me they were coming.  I…I can't believe they did this,” he said shyly.

Kurt felt Mr. Jackson's hand land on his shoulder.  “Don't be embarrassed or nervous.  I think it's awesome that they did this for you.  It shows how much they care about you.”

“I'm not…embarrassed.  A little nervous.  But, you're right.  They care about me and have my back.  I know, because they literally saved me from drowning no fewer than four times that I can think this summer.  And, frankly, doing that once, when I was six, was enough for me.”  Kurt sat on the pool deck and hopped into lane one.

Mr. Jackson looked down at him, a serious expression on his face.  “Did you just say you drowned?  When you were six?” He asked incredulous.

Kurt nodded in affirmation.  “Yes, Mr. Jackson.  It's why I could never get in the pool during P.E. class.  But Blaine – the brunet sporting the letter ‘G',” Kurt pointed up at his boyfriend, “he…he helped me…get over my fear of the water.  I can swim because of him.  And the rest of that crazy crew.  So, with all due respect, Mr. Jackson, I intend to kick this test's ass.”

Loud laughter burst forth from the P.E. teacher.  “Well, then, Kurt Hummel, let's get this show on the road.  Good luck.”  He blew his whistle once, grabbing everyone's attention.  “Okay, goggles on.  Let's do this, people.”  With that, he blew the whistle again, signaling the start of the test.

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Kurt began with the backstroke.  Even with his ears in the water, he could hear the cheering of his friends echoing off the cement walls.  He focused on swimming at a steady pace, one that he knew wouldn't use up so much energy that he ran out before his laps were complete.  To help with this, and to calm his nerves, he allowed his mind to drift back over the events of the summer.

Kurt couldn't pull his eyes away from the tanned, athletic men, one of whom was, in a quick practiced motion, climbing deftly out of the pool.

“Hey, Bec.  Jeff said you wanted me to meet someone?”  The young man who looked to be the same age as Kurt walked over to the umbrella table and snatched a towel off of a chair.

“These are the Hummels.  Kurt needs some lessons.  I recommended you,” explained Rebecca.  She nodded towards Burt before wandering off to supervise the pool set up.

Blaine remained standing, gently wiping the droplets clinging to his head and chest with his towel.  Once he finished, he tossed the towel on to the closest chair and held out his hand to Kurt.

“Hi. I'm Blaine.”

Part of his mind stayed focused on swimming, noting when he went under the first set of flags and then the second.  Another part stayed deep within the memories – the memories of how Blaine, without knowing anything of his history, worked to set him at ease when they first met.

“Okay, random fact about Blaine Anderson -”

“Are these facts numbered?  Should I take notes?”

Blaine blushed, and pushed Kurt's shoulder.  “Shush.  Yes, they are numbered and there will be a quiz.  Anyway, as I was saying, Random Fact #13: I dream about food every night.  I think I consume more calories in my sleep than I possibly could awake.  I once had a dream where our swimming pool was completely filled with jelly beans.”

Reaching the end of the pool, Kurt turned around and began swimming back where he had started.  It was true that Blaine dreamt about food every night.  Every day since he'd made that blanket statement, Kurt managed to ask Blaine what he'd eaten in his dreams the night before.  Last night it was popcorn with M&Ms. 

When he reached the end of the pool, he stood up, leaned against the wall and took a couple of deep breaths. 

Mr. Jackson stepped towards Kurt.  “Good job so far, Kurt.  What will you be swimming next?”

“Side stroke.”  He looked towards his friends who were all standing and clapping.  It took a moment to realize that they were now cheering on the boy swimming in lane four.  Glancing over, he realized that the boy was struggling, but still moving with determination down the first length of his swim.

“Come on, Lane Four!  You can do it!” shouted Nick and Scott, while Blaine, Austin, Jeff and Paulie sat, stamping their feet on the metal bleachers to make them resonate loudly. 

Kurt looked over his shoulder at Mr. Jackson.  “Maybe I don't know them?” he teased, making a face.

“Too late.  Your secret is out.”  Watching the swimmer they were currently cheering, Mr. Jackson observed, “I think they're actually helping.”  He shrugged and walked over to where another student was ready to begin their next lap.

Adjust his goggles, Kurt pushed off the wall and allowed the water to take hold of his body once again.  He thought about the first time he recognized that the attraction he felt towards Blaine might actually be returned.

“I'm clearly not an expert, Mr. Anderson, but I thought there was a rule about not swimming for at least an hour after eating?” he commented slyly.

“Um, well, it kinda depends on the size of the meal and how vigorous the swimming is going to be.  Why?”

Nodding to show he understood, Kurt reached up slowly to wipe the corner of Blaine's mouth with his thumb catching a dab of cream cheese.  He stared in stunned silence as Blaine caught his hand and brought the cream cheese up to his lips, slowly licking it off with his warm tongue.  Ohmygodohmygod.

The ear-piercing sound of Nick's whistle split the air.  Lap swim was over.  So was their interlude.

Both teens jerked back to reality.  Blaine appeared to recognize what he'd done first.  “Oh my god, Kurt.  That was so-”

“Hot,” exhaled Kurt.

“-inappropriate,” admitted Blaine.

Reaching the end of the pool yet again, Kurt turned, switched arms, and continued swimming the side stroke to the far side of the pool.  From this position he could watch his friends cheering – especially Paulie Jacobs, who was running back and forth on the first bleacher, keeping pace with Kurt.  The little boy, who'd been allowed to spike his hair for the occasion, sported his painted letter T all the way down his arms to his wrists.  Kurt wondered if he had ever possessed that kind of energy and confidence when he was Paulie's age? 

Considering that two of the major tragedies of his life hadn't occurred until he was older, Kurt thought it was possible.  Losing his mother stripped away what little confidence he still had at age eight.  Fighting hard, Kurt had managed to restore some of it – the rest was just his front of ‘fake it ‘til you make it'.  Little by little, Blaine had developed Kurt's confidence.  When Kurt panicked, Blaine never made him feel like he couldn't do this.  Blaine's confidence in Kurt's ability had eventually taken root, and Kurt found himself believing that he could actually, maybe, pass this swim proficiency test after all.  But it had taken getting in to a near fight with Blaine for Kurt to realize how much he actually did trust Blaine.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to do this?  Of course not.  You've been swimming since you were four.  I'm so frustrated, Blaine.  I've spent the last ten years hiding the fact that I can't swim to all of my friends, only to be forced to do this by some archaic rule so I can earn my damn high school diploma.  And I come here and meet you in all your amazing swimming glory, all tanned and athletic and perfect.  You – all of you – make this look so fucking easy; but it's not.  Not for me, anyway.  And I get more frustrated, because you give perfectly clear and simple directions on what to do.  But I either can't do them, or my body freaks out. And here I am, in tears, again. How fucking pathetic is that?” Kurt was half shouting, half sobbing at this point.

“It's not pathetic, Kur-”

“It is pathetic, Blaine.  I'm 17. I can't swim. And I'm so fucking scared of what you're asking me to do that I cry.  I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one day, Blaine.”  With that said, Kurt tried to climb out, but was stopped by Blaine who pulled his wrist hard enough to yank him off of the ladder.

“Come here!”  There was no mistaking the command in Blaine's voice.  He dropped his hand from Kurt's wrist to his hand and carefully but deliberately intertwined their fingers, all while pulling Kurt to him. 

He hadn't expected to make friends at the pool, let alone to walk away with three close friends and a boyfriend.  Finishing his second lap, Kurt stood up again and pulled his goggles away from his face, so they could rest on the top of his head.  Breathing deeply to settle his heartbeat, he waited for Mr. Jackson to finish with the other students.  “Freestyle, Mr. Jackson,” he called out in anticipation of the inevitable question.

“Gotcha, Kurt.  When you're ready,” came the quick reply.

Squeezing the excess water from his hair, Kurt called out, “I think I'll take another minute first.”  Kurt figured he could make the last lap without taking a break, but he'd rather rest a bit before – so he had more energy for the tread test.  He waved at his crazy friends who were all still cheering on the kid in lane four.  The girl had already finished and was sitting on the wooden bench, towel wrapped tightly around her.  The other two boys seemed to be somewhere at the end of the second lap or beginning of the third – but lane four was barely halfway down the lane on clearly just his second lap.

He caught Blaine's eye and smiled shyly when his boyfriend made a heart shape with his hands, holding it over his chest.  Kurt nodded once to let him know he'd seen it and then moved the goggles back in to place.  Pushing off the wall, Kurt fell into the rhythm of the freestyle stroke. One. Two. Three. Breathe.  One. Two. Three. Breathe.

Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's hand.  “Kurt…we have a connection.  I mean, yeah, I have friends.  Really good friends who I love dearly.  Nick and I are as close as I think two people can be – but even we don't have what we have.  At least, what I think we have.”  Blaine stopped.  He looked down at their hands clasped together.  “I'm not just making this up in my head, am I?  You feel it too, don't you?”  Blaine asked anxiously.

Kurt eyes popped open.   Leaning closer, he brushed their cheeks together.  “Yeah, I do,” he whispered into Blaine's ear.

Blaine inhaled as Kurt's warm breath played across cheek.  “Then you should know that I am planning on going out with you.  A lot.  For as long as you keep saying yes.”  Blaine turned his head so his lips brushed against the soft skin of Kurt's cheek.  Reluctantly, Blaine pulled back.  “You're adorable when you blush.”

“GO KURT!”

“COME ON HUMMEL! YOU'RE ALMOST THERE!”

“KUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRT!”

The echoing calls of the ‘Kurt Hummel Fan Club' were almost deafening.  The yelling and stomping made the McKinley lifeguards turn and stare.  Mr. Jackson couldn't keep the smile from his face.  They even succeeded in pulling Kurt from his memories.  It so startled him that he stopped, standing up about twenty feet from the end of the swim lane.  He shook his head in confusion as the noise level dropped off.

“Oh, shit!” whispered Jeff.  “Does this mean he fails?” he asked Blaine, tightly squeezing his shoulder.

“Ow!  Dammit, Sterling, leave some feeling, okay?  I don't know.  I don't understand what happened,” Blaine replied. 

Kurt looked from his friends to Mr. Jackson.  Stopping mid-lap was grounds for a failing grade on the test.  He hadn't meant to stop; he just didn't understand what the noise was.  “Mr. Jackson?” he called out in the silence.

The teacher waved at Kurt to continue swimming.  “Come on, Hummel.  Finish up!  Or are you quitting on me?” he asked in a teasing tone.

“No, sir.”  Taking another breathe, Kurt dropped back into the water and finished the last few feet of the test.  Touching the wall, Kurt stood up and ripped his goggles off of his face.  Climbing out of the pool, Kurt grabbed his towel off of the bench and approached Mr. Jackson.  “Mr. Jackson?”  he called out timidly.

Watching the two boys still in the pool, he answered without looking at Kurt.  “You passed that portion of the test, Kurt.  I'm not gonna fail you because you stopped with four strokes to go.  Besides, I wouldn't want to face that crowd outside if I failed you on a technicality.  Take a break.  When these guys finish up, I'll call you over for the tread test.”

“Thanks, Mr. Jackson,” Kurt answered with sincerity.

Walking over to the bleachers, Kurt was immediately greeted by Paulie Jacobs who, without warning, leaped from the second bleacher into Kurt's arms possessing all the faith of a five-year old that he'd be caught by someone he trusted.  Grateful he'd been paying attention, Kurt returned the little boy's hug.  “Paulie, I'm dripping wet.”

Paulie pushed away from Kurt's shoulder so he could bring their foreheads together.  “I'll dry, Kurt.  Are you done?  Did you pass?  ‘Cause when you pass, Mama is taking everyone to Farrell's for ice cream.  She said I could have rocky road to celebrate and I loooooove rocky road ice cream, Kurt.  And I get to stay up past my bedtime, because we're having a celebration.  You haven't been at the pool, Kurt.  I missed you.  And I missed Mr. Blaine.  Daphne and I don't really like the new teachers.  They're okay, but they don't know the songs like Mr. Blaine and Ms. Meghan.  But Ms. Jordan told Mama that you had your test today, so we decided to come cheer you on.  Did you see me?  Did you like my letter T?  Mr. Blaine and Mr. Scott said that it was the best choice for me, because I could use my whole, entire body to make the T.”

Paulie must have needed to take a breath because he stopped for a moment before leaning to Kurt's ear.  “Are you going to ask Blaine to be your boyfriend?”

Kurt could feel himself blushing at the little boy's question.  “Paulie, can you keep a secret for a little bit longer, until I pass my treading test and we're at Farrell's?” he asked quietly.

With big eyes, Paulie nodded solemnly, miming with his hands the locking of his lips and throwing the imaginary key over his shoulder. 

Kurt giggled.  “Blaine already asked me.  I said yes,” he whispered.

Paulie threw himself back at Kurt, hugging him tightly before letting go and climbing up to his mother.

Nick and Jeff climbed down with Blaine, all three giving Kurt careful hugs after Nick pointed out that Paulie had left much of his paint on Kurt's chest.  “We're so proud of you,” Nick said, messing up Kurt's hair before leaving so Kurt and Blaine could talk more privately.

Separated by the metal fencing that came up to their waists, Blaine quietly dropped his hand onto Kurt's.  “How do you feel, handsome?  You've looked great out there.”

Jeff shoved Blaine with his hip.  “Dude, you think Kurt looks great every day,” he teased in a low voice, perfectly aware of how unaccepting the students at public school could be of anyone perceived as different.

Shooting his friend a death look, Blaine commented, “How about you go show your girlfriend what it means to date a dapper private school guy?  I mean, some of the guys on the pool deck look like they've been checking her out.  Just sayin'.  Don't waste the opportunity to show them she's with you.”

Jeff offered a generic glare towards the McKinley students before stalking up to Jordan.  Sitting next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and dropped a soft kiss onto her lips.  Seeing the boy in lane four was still swimming, he smiled widely.  “COME ON, LANE FOUR!  YOU CAN DO IT!”

It was nearly impossible for the rest of the teenagers in the pool area to not catch Jeff's enthusiasm.  Everyone began cheering and clapping for the boy who, while slow, was steadily making his way down the pool on his third lap. 

Knowing that no one would overhear, Blaine leaned forward.  “What's your game plan for the tread test?”  He was surprised by the pink tinge that appeared on Kurt's face.  “And your game plan makes you blush, why?” he asked with amusement.

“I've been thinking of the summer.  Of us.  To distract myself.  Or help me focus.  Whichever you want to pick.”  Kurt looked over his shoulder to see how long before the boy in the fourth lane finished, then turned back to Blaine.  “Will you…can you guys keep time for me?  I don't know if Mr. Jackson will, but he seems to love you –so if you could tell me how much time I have left...”  Kurt's voice petered out.

Blaine could feel Kurt's hand begin to tremble under his own.  Squeezing gently, Blaine brought Kurt's attention back to him.  “Hey, now.  Of course we'll do that for you.  Just focus on this: You tread water for five minutes and you've passed this test.  You've beaten your demons.  We get to celebrate with our friends at the ice cream parlor.  And since Dalton isn't in session until next week, we don't have leave Lima until 11:30pm to make curfew.  That leaves us about two hours to celebrate on our own.”  Blaine winked at Kurt, knowing how excited his boyfriend would be at this news.

“I can't believe you guys drove all the way out here for me.  Blaine…thank you.  I love you.”

Smiling happily, Blaine answered without hesitation.  “I love you, too.  Go kick some ass, Kurt Hummel.  Because your boyfriend can't wait to celebrate by kissing every inch of your body that you'll allow him to."

“Sounds like a plan, Anderson.  I'll hold you to it.  Or…hold you to me.”  With a wink, Kurt left to go wait with the other students for the last portion of the swim proficiency test.

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Parking his car on the side of the street, Kurt cut the engine and sat in the darkness with Blaine, looking up at Nana Sterling's house.  Without really looking, Kurt reached his hand over to Blaine's, squeezing their hands together, then linking only their pinkies. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Blaine asked quietly.

Kurt inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly.  “Yeah, Blaine.  I'm sure.”

Even in the darkness, Blaine could see Kurt chewing on his lower lip.  “Hey, handsome.  Stop that.”  He lifted a finger up to free Kurt's lip, then placed his hand on the back of Kurt's neck, pulling him in for a slow kiss.  “Mmm.hmm.  I really like being able to do that,” he said in a low voice, lips drifting down Kurt's neck.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Kurt pushed Blaine away.  “I really like you being able to do that too, Anderson.  But keep that up and Nana will be out here with a garden hose.”

Blaine couldn't contain his laughter.  “That sounds exactly like something she would do.”  Unbuckling his seat belt, Blaine exited the car, reaching back in for the bouquet of flowers they'd purchased for Nana.  Kurt met him at the front of the car with another bouquet and a card for Rebecca.  His boyfriend blew his mind.  On their way home from the ice cream parlor, Kurt had insisted on stopping at the market. 

“I don't condone the way she handled things, Blaine.  I'm not saying that we should forgive and forget.  But I do know that if it weren't for Rebecca, we wouldn't have met.  I wouldn't have passed my test.  I owe her a sincere thank you for both of those things,” he'd explained before sashaying into the market to pick out the flowers.

Climbing the steps to the house, Blaine rang the doorbell.  He could see from the lack of cars, that Pete and Rebecca weren't at home – which was just fine with him.  He wasn't sure when he'd be ready to actually meet Pete or Becca face to face.  But Blaine missed Nana.  More than he realized he would.

It took a few long moments, but finally they heard Nana call from the other side of the door, “Who's there?  If you're selling something, I'm not buying.”

Smiling, Blaine replied, “Nana?  It's Blaine and Kurt.  We came by to say hello.”  He could hear the locks being unbolted, and then the grey haired woman appeared with a grin on her face. 

“Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel.  Come in boys.  I'm so very happy to see you both.  What brings you by this late at night?  Would you like some tea?”  She pulled the door open, gesturing for them to come inside.

“We brought you flowers, Nana.  To say thank you,” Blaine set the vase with pink roses and stargazer lilies in the center of the kitchen table before taking a seat.

Kurt placed the second vase on the counter, before waving the elderly woman to sit at the table.  “I'll get the tea, Nana.  Go sit,” he insisted, already familiar with where things were from his few brief visits to the home.

Maggie Sterling sat across from Blaine and took his hand in hers.  “There's no need to say thank you, Blaine Anderson.  It is truly my pleasure to have you live here during the summers.  You will always – always – have a place here, as long as there is breath in this body.”

His throat tight, Blaine rose from his chair and walked around the table to embrace Jeff's grandmother.  “Thank you, Nana.  You never make me feel like I'm anything less than another grandson…that I'm family, too.”  He started sniffling as the emotions became too difficult to contain.  “I miss my family, Nana.  I miss you.”  Standing up, he worked at wiping away the tears from his eyes.

Hurrying over with three mugs of tea, Kurt set them gently on the table before taking Blaine in his arms.  They lost themselves for several long moments, drawing comfort from each other.  Finally, Kurt placed once last kiss on Blaine's temple and sat at the table again.  Blaine moved to sit across from Kurt and Nana.

Cocking her head to the side, Nana smirked at the two boys.  “So, Blaine Anderson…have you asked Mr. Hummel to be your beau?”

Blaine could feel his cheeks flush.  “Yes, ma'am.  I actually asked him after…after the fight we had.  But we didn't really tell anyone because Kurt still needed to pass his swim test.  He passed tonight.  So it's official.”  He picked up the cup of tea nearest him and took a brief sip followed by a longer one.

“I'm happy to hear that, boys.”  Nana drank from her own mug before looking at Kurt.  “The other flowers, Kurt?”

Startled away from gazing at his boyfriend, Kurt had to think for a moment.  “Oh.  Those are for Rebecca.  I wanted to let her know that I'm grateful for her help this summer.”  Kurt shrugged, unsure what else to say.

“Blaine Anderson, you picked well with this one,” Nana observed.  “Such a thoughtful gentleman.  I knew I liked you from the moment I met you, Kurt.”  She sipped her tea, then added, “And you make an excellent cup of tea as well.”  She stared pointedly at Blaine.  “You let this one slip through your fingers, Blaine Anderson, and it will be the biggest regret of your life.  But I think you already know that, don't you.”

Blaine looked up at Nana, giving a shy smile.  “Neither you nor my mother raised me to be a fool.” 

Reaching across the table, Blaine held on to Kurt's hand as they talked on through the evening.

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Rebecca,

When my father dragged me into your pool office in June, I had no idea how much my life was about to change.  I had spent eleven years avoiding the water – and the idea of swimming terrified me.  You held my hand, literally, that day, encouraging me to take private lessons – from a lifeguard named Blaine.

I don't think any of us (You, Me, or Blaine) had any clue how our summer would end on that first day.  I want you to know that Blaine was (and is) everything I needed.  Blaine's patience and encouragement made me feel safe, and secure, and confident enough to face my fears.  You all helped me through my panic attacks and protected me the day I was assaulted in the locker room.  The friendship and camaraderie that existed at the pool was due, in no small part, to your leadership.

I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate everything you did for me this summer.  Last night, I passed my swim proficiency test.  You were a part of that – and because you were, I will now be able to earn my diploma.  Thank you.

Blaine and I had a long talk with Nana when we came over to drop off the flowers.  I think I have a better understanding of things having talked with her.  My dad tells me that the difference between a mistake and a learning experience is: you keep making mistakes, until you learn from them.  Then it becomes a learning experience.  We all made mistakes over the past two weeks – ones that we can't undo.  However, maybe instead of being mistakes – we can choose to make them learning experiences, and move on.  I know that is what I am planning on doing.  Holding on to grudges takes too much time and energy.  Frankly, I plan on remembering all the hundreds of ways you (and Pete and Nana and everyone) spent the summer helping me with my summer project.

I wish you and Pete all the best for your wedding and your life together.

Thank you again,

Kurt E. Hummel.