It was late, but Blaine couldn't sleep, so he decided to occupy himself by watching some more skating videos. He typed in a query to find figure skating at the Sochi games and settled back against his pillows. He watched the performances of the three medal winners in Men's Singles before another video caught his eye. A video someone had uploaded from a practice session entitled Skating Diva Handed a Little of his Own Medicine. The thumbnail image showed Kurt talking with Sue, his old coach. He clicked on the play button and watched as Sue tore Kurt apart in front of several other skaters and who knew how many other people in the stands. He couldn't begin to guess what dealing with that for over 12 years would do to a person. How, and why, had Kurt put up with it for so long?

He thought about Isabelle's soft, supportive coaching style and wondered how it was possible for two women to be so different. He was suddenly very thankful that he'd never had Sue as a coach, not that such a thing could have even been possible, since she would never have taken a chance on Blaine in the first place.

He turned off his tablet and set it aside as he pulled the covers up. He wondered how long it would take Kurt to stop expecting an attack at any minute, to realize that not everything needed to be a fight.

The next day's practice was a low-key one. Isabelle was out of town, so Kurt and Blaine were on their own. They skated separately for most of the morning and then Kurt gave Blaine a few pointers on how to turn his double-single combination jump into a double-double.

Burt, who was in town for a few days, stopped by to have lunch with them and Blaine was amazed at the immediate difference in Kurt. He smiled throughout the meal and didn't once make a cutting comment. After they cleared the food away, Kurt managed to coax Burt into putting on skates and laughingly held his hands as they tentatively stepped out onto the ice. It wasn't often that Kurt laughed with someone and not at them and Blaine wasn't ashamed to admit that he found the unguarded moment adorable. Kurt was more carefree and boyish than he'd ever seen him. It was a Kurt that he wouldn't mind getting to know better.

Blaine joined them on the ice, but it wasn't too long before Burt cried 'uncle' and requested that they show off some of their moves while he retreated to the bleachers. They went through their routine for him and Blaine couldn't contain his smile when they got a standing ovation at the end.

"I can't believe you've only been skating for two-and-a-half months, Blaine. I'm amazed. You guys already look so great together," Burt called out as they returned to his side.

Kurt shot Blaine the most genuine smile he thought he'd even seen Kurt give as Burt gathered up his things and they walked him to the exit.

"Kurt, Carole called me yesterday and said that she'd heard that Sue gave an interview to Sporting World magazine." Burt stopped just inside the door and removed his baseball hat, scratching absently at his balding head. "Evidently she was gloating about it at a competition last weekend. It's probably about her new coaching job, but I thought I'd warn you, just in case. Maybe she won't even mention you at all."

Kurt's smile dimmed a little. "What are the odds of that? Doesn't matter, though. What can she say behind my back that she hasn't already said to my face a thousand times?" He pulled his dad in for a quick hug and sent him on his way after promising to see him for dinner.

Back on the ice, Blaine couldn't contain his curiosity. "Who's Carole?"

"The woman my dad's dating," Kurt replied absently as he searched his iPod for a playlist for their afternoon practice. "Her son competes in Mixed Pairs. I introduced them at a meet a couple of years ago." The music began to play over the speakers.

Kurt seemed to be in a relatively okay mood, so Blaine felt brave enough to continue. "Why did you stay with Sue for so long? She seems like a pretty miserable human being."

"Because she trains winners and I wanted to be a winner," Kurt shrugged.

"So what made you finally get rid of her?"

That drew a short, cynical laugh from Kurt. "It was more by mutual agreement. Despite her criticisms all those years, she always thought I could make it to the top, but after Sochi she no longer believed it. I don't need people to coddle me or even like me, but I do need them to believe in me at the end of the day."

As Blaine considered that, the music that was playing finally registered. "Uh, can I ask what we're listening to? It's kind of…depressing."

"Philistine," Kurt tone was derisive, but not as much so as it would have been the week before. "This is the soundtrack to Parade, a highly emotional and criminally overlooked score."

"Sorry," Blaine apologized as he lifted his hands up in surrender. "I think it was before my time. I really only listen to soundtracks of musicals I've seen performed live. I kind of need the visual in my head in order to get everything from the songs, especially the emotional ones."

Kurt closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little as he listened to the rise of the music. "Nonsense. A great song is a great song. You can enjoy it just on its own merits."

"Yeah, but a great song that you enjoy can become an emotional powerhouse through the visual. Tell me that you didn't cry when the animals start to come out onstage during the opening number of The Lion King, I dare you. You don't get that feeling from just listening to the music."

Kurt avoided his gaze and grabbed his water bottle off the top of the boards. "I've haven't actually seen it performed. I only know the soundtrack."

Blaine was shocked. "How on earth have you never seen The Lion King?"

"I've…I've never seen a Broadway show live before. I've seen a few community productions, but…" He broke off when he saw Blaine's expression of horror and disbelief. "What? I practice ten hours a day, six days a week. I've spent the past several years promoting Similar Pairs and helping to get a new sport off the ground. I choreographed my own routines and then had to go home and work on…other stuff, so I didn't have time to fly off and see a Broadway show." With each word Kurt's voice rose higher and his gestures got bigger, until finally the water bottle lid he was holding went flying from his hand. He skated over to it and, with a scowl on his face, kicked it with his blade so that it went sailing all the way to the other end of the rink.

Blaine watched it fly smoothly down the ice and shook his head admiringly. "Gosh, what I wouldn't give to see you play hockey."

Kurt spun around abruptly and looked him straight in the eye. "Any time."

=^..^=

The contest was simple. One of them would defend the goal and the other would try and score, Kurt from approximately where the blue line should be and Blaine from center ice. Kurt would have twice as many chances and who ever made the most goals would win. Blaine set up a make-shift hockey goal at one end of the ice and went to his locker to retrieve his hockey sticks and some pucks.

As soon as Blaine turned the corner into the locker room hallway, Kurt leaned his elbows onto the boards and sunk his head into his hands. What was he doing? Despite being a world-ranked figure skater he was not what one would call a "sporty" guy. There was no way he could see this contest ending that didn't result in his complete and utter humiliation. Blaine was going to wipe the floor with him and he would never hear in the end of it. No one ever called Kurt Hummel a quitter, though, so he squared his shoulders and skated over to where he would be shooting from so that he could plan his strategy.

They flipped a coin to see who would shoot first and Blaine won. He helped Kurt put on the old goalie gloves and chest padding that he'd found in the equipment room and Kurt tried not to think about how many other people had worn the musty things over the years. He skated over to the goal and turned back to face Blaine, his heart beating a mile-a-minute, which was about as long as it took Blaine to score 9 out of 10 shots on him. It would have been 10 out of 10, but Kurt made a lucky swipe with his stick at the seventh puck that sent it ricocheting off in the opposite direction.

Blaine didn't say anything, except for counting off the goals, but his gloating smile spoke volumes.

They switched places and Blaine crouched with his hands on his knees in front of the goal, beckoning Kurt to take a few practice shots. His first puck didn't even make it half-way to the goal line and the second reached the correct distance, but was way off-center. Finally he got the hang of it, though, and he moved forward to take his first official shot.

Blaine easily batted away the first two pucks, sending them spinning harmlessly off to the side. The third puck again didn't make the distance and the fourth bounced off Blaine's skate blade. The sixth sailed right into Blaine's glove and he tossed it up in the air cockily, setting Kurt's teeth on edge.

He stared down at the seventh puck and pretended that Blaine's smug little face was smiling back at him from its surface. He twirled the stick a few times in the air, then drew it back above his shoulder and swung with all his might, a warrior cry sounding from his throat.

=^..^=

"He should have known better than to play with an amateur. I mean, who in their right mind would think giving me a hockey stick was a good idea? It's all his fault, really."

Kurt and Burt sat alone in the quiet Lima General Hospital hallway as they waited for Blaine to emerge from behind the emergency room doors.

"Kurt, it was an accident. It was no one's fault," Burt said in a soothing voice as he patted Kurt's shoulder. "I'm sure he's had his nose broken before, given how long he's been playing hockey. He'll be fine."

"Of course he'll be fine. I'm just worried that he'll sue me, that's all," Kurt replied dismissively as he snuck another glance towards the swinging doors.

Burt shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "That isn't the truth and we both know it."

"Then what is?" Kurt asked as he looked down at the floor and traced his toe over a loosening edge of a piece of linoleum.

"You're worried because you've finally found the right partner and you're afraid to mess it up."

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but right then the doors opened and an orderly walked through pushing Blaine in a wheelchair. His head was swaddled in bandages that covered one eye and a cheekbone. His other eye looked dazed and in pain. Kurt rushed over and knelt down next to him. "Oh my God. I thought it was just your nose. I didn't aggravate your concussion did I?"

Blaine looked up at him and shook his head slowly. He opened his mouth then closed it.

"What?" Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and squeezed it. "Do you need something? You can tell me."

Blaine reached up his other hand and pulled the bandages off, revealing the dark bruise around his eye and nose. He smiled. "Toe pick!"

Kurt pushed back and stood up, looking down at Blaine in disbelief, relief and anger waging a war inside of him. He heard a chuckle from beside him and saw his dad unsuccessfully try to hide a smile. He spun on his heel with a growl and stomped down the hallway and out the front doors.

=^..^=

Blaine realized later that the hockey incident seemed to mark a turning point in his and Kurt's partnership. They didn't become the best of friends, by any means, but Kurt no longer seemed to be on a personal mission to drive him away. That wasn't to say that Kurt became a little ray of sunshine; he just didn't act worse with Blaine than he did with anyone else. In return, Blaine stopped wearing his day-glo colored warm-up gear and began to dress in muted blues, blacks, and greens. There was still a little jockeying for position between them, but nothing more than one would expect from regular teammates. They still didn't hang around together outside of the rink, but Blaine was slowly coming to know Kurt a little better as he became less and less defensive.

It was the last practice before Thanksgiving when Blaine felt like he finally began to make headway. He came into the rink one morning and found Kurt in the middle of performing a series of triple jumps. His triple axel with an arm raised above his head in what Blaine now knew was 'Tano style was Blaine's favorite.

When Kurt had successfully landed the jump and was casually skating out of it, Blaine finally asked the question that had been tickling at him since the beginning. "Why didn't you just become a singles skater when you were having such a hard time finding a partner?"

Kurt skated beside him as Blaine walked over to the benches and set his bag down. "I don't have the Quad, which is required now to even begin to compete at a national level. Also, my mom was a Pairs skater, so I am too."

Blaine pulled his skates out and began to put them on. "You did Mixed Pairs for so long. Do you miss it?"

Kurt leaned against the wall, a thoughtful look on his face. "Not really, though Mixed Pairs throws and lifts can be really exciting. I do miss Santana, my old partner, though. It might not have looked like it from the outside, but we were really good friends. The best, actually."

Blaine heard the melancholy in his voice. "Were?" he asked tentatively, not wanting to spoil the nice little moment they had going.

"I was honest with her from the beginning that I would switch over if Similar Pairs was officially sanctioned, but I don't think she ever really believed it would happen. She was livid when the decision came down and I started looking for a new partner. She hasn't spoken to me since." Kurt looked sad for a moment, his gaze unfocused. Then he shook his head, as if tossing aside the unpleasant thoughts. "What about you? Do you miss hockey? Testosterone and sweat in the air and all that?"

Blaine felt a pang in his chest at the question. "Every day. I'd been doing it for so long that at first it was like I was missing a limb. I started in pee wee hockey as a little kid. My dad was the coach, so at the time there wasn't really an option of me playing or not. It turned out to be really good for us, though. I think that me playing hockey really helped him deal with my coming out. He saw me still doing what was, in his mind, 'guy stuff' and, I don't know, it made it easier for him to deal. We still had something in common we could talk about." Blaine pulled on a sweater and joined Kurt on the ice.

"How did you end up doing it professionally?" Kurt asked as they began their warm-up.

"I went to private school starting in the sixth grade and joined the school hockey team." He matched his speed with Kurt as they made the first turn. "As a sophomore I was elected Captain of the team, but I'd started to branch out a little, too. I was lead singer of the Warblers, our school's glee club, and was in the drama club. I never seriously thought about playing hockey professionally, so I went to college and majored in theater. I was on the college hockey team, though, and a scout from the NHL saw me and convinced me to enter the draft. The rest is history, I guess."

Kurt sent him a sideways glance. "Did you ever have a problem with the other guys on your teams? About your being gay, I mean?" he questioned, a slight waver in his voice.

"Not really. My school had a no bullying policy and my friends always supported me. I mean, there were a few guys over the years that had a problem, but the others always had my back." Blaine knew how unusual his childhood had been and definitely felt blessed that he hadn't experienced the amount of bullying and hate that most other gay kids had. His worst experiences had come once he'd joined the Canucks, when some of the hockey "fans" had taken an exception to him, but he'd been able to avoid most of the drama by being careful what he read about himself and ignoring the taunting when he was in the penalty box.

"Popular, well-liked, and never a real problem caused by being gay, despite growing up in Ohio. Sounds like a charmed life." Blaine knew Kurt probably meant to sound snippy, but he thought it just came off as kind of wistful.

"Yeah, until last February, I guess it was," he smiled sadly.

They skated in silence for a few minutes and waved "Hello" to Isabelle when she came in. As she got her notes together for the practice, they finished up their warm-up.

"I've been skating since before I can remember," Kurt said suddenly as they performed a synchronized serpentine element. "The Olympics were always my goal. Nothing else mattered. I didn't have a social life, no friends except Santana, but I didn't care. My sights were set on that gold medal and nothing was going to stop me, not even when the expense nearly bankrupted my father."

"Wow, that's rough," Blaine sympathized. "What changed?"

"Santana and I got some sponsors when we started getting higher up in the rankings, many of which stayed with me when I made the switch to SP. There's really only one that stuck around after the Olympics, but I'm sure more will come in once we start competing. As for now…I have a few other things that bring in money and dad makes a lot more as a Congressman than he ever did just owning the garage, so we're good." Kurt smiled over at him reassuringly.

Blaine felt a little awkward discussing the Hummel's money issues when he'd grown up in the lap of luxury with his well-to-do parents, so he moved the conversation onto another topic. "What did your friends think of you skating when you were younger? Do you think they realized how good you were?"

Kurt looked away and began to fiddle with the drawstring on his perfectly distressed hoodie. "I-I didn't have friends growing up. I was home schooled and spent all of my time on the ice, so it was just me and whoever I was skating with at the moment."

"Really? You never went to regular school?" Blaine couldn't imagine what his life would have been like without the friendships and experiences he'd gotten in school. He felt another pang in his chest at how lonely Kurt's life must have been.

"Freshman year I injured my ankle and had to reduce my time on the ice, so I tried going to the local high school that year." Kurt shifted uncomfortably and their movements got out of sync. "I only ended up staying a few weeks."

"Why?"

"I discovered that Dumpster green just wasn't my color." With that, Kurt sped up and skated on ahead of Blaine, leaving him to hope that all of the bad scenarios he was now picturing in his head were wrong and that maybe the school's colors had just been a horrible shade of green. Somehow, though, he didn't think that was the case.

=^..^=

The long Thanksgiving weekend had been a good one for Kurt. The time away from Blaine had helped him further process what his dad had said about him finally finding the right partner. He didn't want to admit it, but he supposed it was true. While Blaine still had a long way to go to match him technically, he couldn't deny that he was the first one to actually feel like a partner since he'd split with Santana.

His dad had been in town for Thanksgiving, which always raised Kurt's spirits and they'd had a quiet little celebration with just the two of them. As he became more senior in Congress, Burt was spending more and more time in Washington. Kurt missed him horribly when he was gone, but he was too old to need his father around all the time, so he pushed the feelings away and carried on as if nothing was wrong.

It was harder to pretend, though, after having had four whole days with him. Now that the house was empty again, Kurt felt more alone than ever. It seemed as if all he ever did was train, train, train. He didn't speak with that many people outside of skating and sometimes had to physically restrain himself from picking up the phone and trying to get Santana to talk to him. He hadn't seen his boyfriend, Adam, in several months and hadn't spoken to him in two weeks and didn't even really care that much, but there were times when the loneliness just got to be too much.

After their first practice back, Kurt slipped his coat on and pulled his bag out of his locker. He was finally going to give in and see if Blaine wanted to hang out that evening. He was new in town and spent just as much time training as Kurt did, so he must be lacking in the social life area also. He came out of the locker room and looked around for Blaine, finally finding him over talking with Artie, the Zamboni driver. Artie had been resurfacing the ice for years at the rink before Kurt had realized that he was in a wheelchair. He'd been shocked at first, unsure of how someone in a wheelchair could get up into the high set vehicle, but Artie had shown him the lifting device that April Rhodes had had installed that got him up to the height of the driver's seat.

Artie let out a burst of laughter as Kurt approached them, and clapped Blaine on the back. "My man, you got game, yo. I've never seen someone come away with so many phone numbers in one night. That must be a record or something. It was definitely worth driving all the way to Columbus just to see that."

"Please," Blaine sniffed dismissively, "that was nothing. I once got 20 numbers in one night after a play-off win in Vancouver. Now that was a good night, let me tell you."

Artie crowed at Blaine's boast and shook his head. "Hey, I was just happy to be around to sooth the disappointment of all the ladies who came by to hit on you. Well, at least tell me that you hooked up with one of those guys at the bar when you disappeared for a while last night. One of us had to get lucky last night and I know it wasn't me."

"No, I did not hook up with one of those guys last night." Blaine's wide smile hinted that that wasn't the end of the story.

"Inconceivable!" Artie cried. "How could…Wait, don't tell me. It was two guys, wasn't it? Aw yeah."

Blaine waggled his eyebrows and grinned. "A gentleman never tells."

Kurt must have made a noise, because both Blaine and Artie looked over at him just then. His face burned with embarrassment over having interrupted their male bonding and from hearing the details of Blaine's conquest of Columbus's gay nightlife. "I'm just leaving, so I just wanted to remind Blaine to lock up. Um…see you guys later."

He walked swiftly to his car and pulled the door shut behind him with a bang before dropping his head forward onto the steering wheel. It'd been stupid of him to think that Blaine would want to hang around with him outside of practice. He obviously had much better options. So much for blaming his lack of a social life on skating. And now he couldn't stop picturing Blaine pinned up against the wall of a nightclub while two guys kissed at his neck. Great. Just great.

=^..^=

It was a week before Christmas and Blaine was looking forward to getting some time off. He'd really grown to love skating, but the daily grind was getting to him. He would have ten glorious days without an ice rink in sight and he planned on spending at least half of that time in bed, preferably not alone. He'd made plans to meet up with Jean Luc, a charming guy from Paris that he'd met one night while out with Artie and if things went as planned it might be a very Merry Christmas indeed.

But first he had to get through these last two practices. He was trying to master centering his scratch spin and so far it was kicking his butt. Unlike Kurt, who could spin forever and not move more than an inch on the ice, Blaine was all over the place, sometimes ending up several feet from where he started. It had taken him forever just to get to the point where he could spin without getting dizzy and falling over. One of the best times he had spent with Kurt so far had been when Kurt was trying to teach him how to properly spot during a spin. They'd both spun so much that they'd gotten slap happy and collapsed into a giggling pile on the ice, their laughter so contagious that they'd even brought Isabelle down with them.

He pushed off with one foot and began to spin slowly, his arms and one leg outstretched. Then he began to bend the leg in and down and pull his arms in and up, forcing the spin to get faster and faster. He finished the spin and looked down at the ice, cursing when he saw the tell-tale trail of blade marks that showed how far he'd travelled.

"Somehow I don't think that's the way it's supposed to look, Squirt."

Blaine looked up at the familiar voice. "Cooper! What are you doing here?" He skated over to the side of the ice where his brother stood.

"School's closed up for the holiday so I thought I'd come by and see what my little baby bro has been up to." Cooper reached out to hook an arm around Blaine's neck and pulled him in so that he could rub his knuckles across his head.

"Ouch. Stop it. You'll mess up my hair," Blaine grumbled as he lifted a protective hand to said hair. "Hey guys!" he called to Kurt and Isabelle who were conferring about choreography at the other end of the ice. "Come meet my brother."

He chatted with Cooper while they made their way over and smiled at Isabelle when she came to stand next to him. Blaine looked back as she was shaking Cooper's hand, wondering where Kurt was. He found him standing frozen on the ice with a star struck expression that had Blaine groaning. Oh no, not another one.

"Y-you-you're the Free Credit Rating Today guy," Kurt stammered, red blotches blooming on his cheeks.

"Well, that I am," Cooper preened. "Longest running commercial pitch man on TV right now. I'm closing in on the Energizer Bunny's run. I'm always glad to meet a fan."

Blaine rolled his eyes as Kurt lurched forward to shake Cooper's hand. His brother was always insufferable for days after he'd a fan encounter. He prayed that Cooper got it out of his system by Christmas or his trip home was not going to be fun.

Kurt gave a nervous laugh as Cooper released his hand and Blaine hoped that he wasn't about to make some comment about never washing his hand again, because he might have to hurl if that happened.

"I used to have your jingle as my ring tone," Kurt said, his expression still a little dazed.

"Used to?" Cooper pouted as he gave Kurt his best sad puppy dog eyes.

The blotches on Kurt's face got even redder, if that was even possible. "Oh yeah I…well, I…"

Blaine stepped in to rescue Kurt from himself. "Cooper, knock it off. Stop teasing."

They showed Cooper around the building and ordered pizza in for lunch. Blaine noticed that Kurt was pretty quiet, listening attentively while he and Cooper goofed around, but not adding much to the conversation. After lunch they took to the ice and Blaine self-consciously showed off his newfound skills. It was his first time performing for anyone that he knew and he found it extremely nerve racking. He almost felt as if he was about to be sick and he hoped it wasn't an indicator of how he would feel on competition days with thousands of people watching.

Cooper applauded loudly as he and Kurt finished off the simple dance moves that they'd been working on for a month or so.

"This is all due to me, I hope you realize," Cooper called out over the ice.

Blaine snowplowed over to where Cooper was standing. "And how did you come to that conclusion," he asked skeptically.

"Two things, actually. One: the dancing lessons I gave you as a kid obviously paid off. You weren't born with that sense of rhythm, Squirt, I painstakingly crafted it through long hours of dedicated effort on my part; and two: it was at my school that you were 'discovered' as it were. If not for me the lovely and oh-so-talented Isabelle here still wouldn't know that you exist. I expect a mention in all your post-win interviews and partial custody of any Olympic medals."

Their ensuing argument about medal custody agreements soon gave way to plans to go out that evening. Blaine packed up his things and they were halfway to the door before Blaine turned back to Kurt, who was still sitting on the benches, playing with the laces of his skates.

"Hey, want to come with us?" Kurt's head came up as Blaine yelled across the space between them. "Cooper may be annoying and full of crap, but he almost always figures out a way to get someone to buy us drinks."

Kurt looked as if he was considering it for a second before shaking his head. "No thanks. Plans you know. Big plans. Busy, busy. See you tomorrow. And don't be late. I'm picking dad and Adam up at the airport, so I need to leave by four o'clock."

Blaine was tempted to argue with him, but Cooper was pulling on his arm, making choking noises and pretending to be dying of thirst. He tossed a wave back at Kurt and they were off. Maybe next time.