Blaine was gently jostled awake as his bed shifted beneath him. He cracked his eyes open to find his body draped over Kurt who was trying to carefully extract himself. Their eyes met and Kurt smiled softly to him. Blaine couldn't contain his own sleepy grin.

Kurt's hand lifted to the cheek not currently pressed to his bare chest. "Go back to sleep, I have some chores to do, but you should rest."

This helped relieve Blaine of any lingering sleepiness, "Wait, no. Let me help," he said even though he absentmindedly began caressing Kurt's chest with the hand draped there.

A contented sigh escaped Kurt, "You don't have to," he whispered.

"But I want to."

"Well, you need to stop that," Kurt said nodding to Blaine's hand that was still stroking lightly across his chest, "or I will never get out of this bed."

A spectacular blush painted Blaine's cheeks barely discernible in the dim room. Sensing more than seeing Blaine's embarrassment, Kurt captured his hand that was making a hasty retreat from its previous home above Kurt's heart. "Hey don't. You have my express permission to touch me whenever and wherever you want. Don't shy away from me." He rolled himself over so he was looking directly into Blaine's eyes. "I would gladly stay right here with you all day if the girls weren't waiting."

"The girls?" Blaine asked.

A chuckle filled the small space between them, "Yes, the cows and goats need to be milked and fed. I have other things I have to do to."

Blaine nodded and soon they were climbing out of their warm bed into the chilly room. After borrowing a pair of overalls, flannel shirt, and boots (Kurt insisting he didn't want to do farm work in his regular clothes) they went out to meet the dawning day. Kurt taught him how to milk the cows and goats. They worked side by side, Kurt singing in his work any odd tune that came to mind, while Blaine tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Kurt's voice however, cut through his concentration more often than not leaving him staring at the amazing man. He had the voice of an angel, like none Blaine had ever heard before, high clear and melodious. Every once and a while Blaine would catch himself just watching as Kurt put a melody to his work. Consequently, this meant Kurt did twice the work Blaine did, but didn't seem too fazed by it. Once both cows and the five goats were milked, they went on to collect the eggs from the dozen or so chickens pecking about the yard in the early morning light.

After Blaine asked, Kurt explained that he had no problem eating eggs from his little farm, because they had no rooster, so there was no chance of the eggs becoming chickens. The eggs, and milk collected, and the animals fed, the couple were free to return to the house to make breakfast.

"Do you mind if I wash up?" Blaine asked setting down the milk pails in the corner where Kurt directed.

"If you want, but after breakfast I was going to go out to the garden to work for a bit." The smile he gave Blaine sent warmth shooting through his veins. "Mornings I do all the work I need to keep us fed. Then I usually go to work in the barn." Blaine knew that by barn, Kurt meant the loft and his art. Just the thought of getting to watch Kurt create again made Blaine's mind up.

"If you work, I work." He said earning him another beautiful smile. Blaine washed the eggs while Kurt scrambled some that already lay in a basket on the counter. He worked at an old wood burning stove that fit the small farmhouse well. It was black and large with ornate scrollwork on the front. Blaine could just imagine the thousands of meals this masterpiece had helped to create. Potatoes fried on one burner while a skillet warmed in the other ready for the eggs to be added. Kurt began skimming cream off the top of a pail of milk beside the ones Blaine sat down. He added the cream to an old fashioned butter churn. Blaine watched in fascination as Kurt worked with these old world contraptions he had seen in books but never in real life.

Before he could stop himself he asked, "How do you know how to do all this?"

Kurt laughed looking up as he fitted the top on the churn. "My grandparents and mom taught me. They liked the old easy way of life... my grandparents more than my mom did. When they were still alive this was a working farm. Pop sold vegetables, cheese, milk and eggs when there was a surplus. He liked to be self-sufficient. Nanny would earn extra money sewing for the women in town, kept them all in clothes year round. There was a time when everyone in the area knew about the Elizabeth's farm." A happy nostalgic look passed over Kurt's face as he talked. "After my mom died I spent a lot of time out here. It was hard for my dad working all the time to take care of me so most weekends and the summer I would come here." Kurt laughed," Anyway, this all became second nature to me around that time."

Blaine placed his hand on top of Kurt's where it lay resting on the churn unmoving. "Show me?" He asked nodding to the churn.

Wordlessly, Kurt moved him to one of the kitchen chairs and placed the churn on the floor between his feet. Kneeling in front of him, Kurt clasped both of Blaine's hands in his own. Together they gripped the shaft and began slowly to pump it up and down. With a gulp, Blaine lifted his eyes meeting Kurt's with an intensity he had never known. Even if he wanted to, Blaine couldn't have looked away in that moment, all laughter was now gone from Kurt's face, replaced instead by a bit lip and oceanic eyes he felt like he was drowning in. Their rhythm never faltered and their gazes held, as the moment stretched longer than the task called for. Feeling draw by some unknown force, Blaine leaned forward and captured Kurt's lips with his own. The hiss of Kurt's quickly drawn in breath unglued Blaine's hands and he quickly moved them to cup Kurt's face. Kissing, Blaine decided, was his new favorite activity as they allowed themselves to linger and enjoy this proximity.

Kurt broke the kiss far sooner than Blaine would have liked. For the first time since they had met, he looked bashful. "The potatoes will burn and we will never get breakfast if we continue this." He whispered into the silent room. "Just... keep doing that and I will finish up here."

Then Kurt was turning back to the stove, Blaine's eyes never leaving his figure. Only after Kurt cleared his throat and nodded pointedly to the butter churn did Blaine return to his task.

Half way through the meal, Quinn finally emerged from her room, Beth asleep in her arms. She mumbled good mornings to the pair but offered no other acknowledgement as she fixed herself a plate and began to eat. Blaine noticed Kurt sending her curious glances, which she ignored. When both their plates were cleaned, Kurt led them out the door once more. This time though he led Blaine in a direction he had never been before.

A dirt path, created from decades of treading, led through the woods before opening on a large field. There were small plants just barely breaking through the ground and many rows with no growth at all. Kurt guided Blaine through each activity as they watered and weeded each row. He described to Blaine what each row held and what he planned to do with each crop. Blaine learned that Kurt canned or dried as much of the produce as he could himself. Anything that couldn't be saved or eaten was sold to pay for whatever they couldn't grow themselves or given to their wandering friends.

It was long tedious work, and before long, Kurt had stripped off both his work shirt and undershirt. The sun beat down and Blaine could feel the rivulets of sweat meandering down his face, neck, back, and arms. He could no longer feel the morning chill on his skin, everything being replaced with the heat only real work could create. His back ached from bending over as he pulled weeds trying to encroach on the plants that would mean so much to Kurt and Quinn in the months to come. As he stood up stretching his back and wiping the sweat from his brow, he felt gentle hands come to rest on his tense shoulders.

"You must be burning up. Don't you want to take this off?" Kurt asked, turning him around so he could better see Blaine's face, which was now burning with an impressive blush to accompany the heat the work and sun had already colored it with. "Look at you your all red!"Kurt exclaimed seeing this face properly. "Go sit down, take off your shirt, and drink from the hose before you pass out on me." He all but ordered, pushing Blaine towards a fallen log that helped mark the edge of the garden.

Not wanting to admit that his redness wasn't caused entirely by the heat, Blaine obediently sat himself down. After a moment of worry, he reached for the buttons of the work shirt Kurt had lent him and removed it before his nerves could get the better of him. Trying not to think about exposing himself more before Kurt, he stripped off his undershirt as well. Almost immediately, Kurt was kneeling in front of him once more this time holding the hose. Wordlessly the hose was passed between them and Kurt ran to switch on the spicket. He was back by Blaine's side in a moment, letting him drink before taking the hose and wetting the undershirt that lay discarded next to Blaine. Blaine accepted the hose once more as Kurt lay the shirt on the nape of his neck.

"There is that better?" Kurt practically cooed at him, as his free hand caressed Blaine's now bare shoulder. All Blaine could do was nod and smile at how easy it was to be like this; here with Kurt, more exposed than before, but with a feeling of calm flooding him. Just like before, all his worries were for nothing and easily pushed aside with Kurt here.

"I'm fine, really." Blaine told him resting his own hand over Kurt's. "Let's finish up," he suggested taking to his feet once more.

The work after that was quickly finished, just as the sun was at its zenith. As they walked back to the house Kurt suggested they wash up before lunch and moving on to the barn. Blaine was surprised when Kurt lead him to the small bathroom and showed Blaine the claw foot tub, old like the rest of the house, but so beautiful, and told Blaine he could bathe here and Kurt would wash in the pond. A flash of an idea skirted across Blaine's mind, wanting to suggest they both could bathe at the pond, but the thought of being completely naked with Kurt stopped it in its track. The idea equally thrilled and terrified him, so he let Kurt go alone.

He was standing again in Kurt room, fully dressed in his own clothes in front of the mirror, with his tub of Duke's Greaseless Pomade in his hand, when Kurt returned. Blaine had turned to him surprised by his entry and Kurt's eyes seemed to rove over his features taking him in. A small smile played on his lips before his eyes fell on the container in Blaine's hand.

"Please tell me you are not going to put that on your hair again." He said starting towards Blaine again and gently removing the tub.

"My hair is crazy without it." Blaine practically whined. "One day I ran out and I received a demerit for not presenting the image of a proper Dalton gentleman."

" Well," Kurt said, running his hands through Blaine's damp curls, sending shivers down his spine. "You aren't at Dalton."

Nevertheless, Blaine's insecurities could not be so easily tamed, "I know, it's just that..." He sighed not knowing what he could say to make Kurt understand that slicking his hair back wasn't just about fashion, or image. It was important in helping to maintain himself in the way he needed to be.

"You like order and following the strict guidelines that have been set for you."Kurt told him, seeming to understand without Blaine having to say a word. "But Blaine..." the sweet, caring way his name rolled off Kurt tongue made him looks up and meets his eyes once more."Life isn't all about keeping yourself in the cage that society has set for you. It's about learning to be comfortable with you." Kurt slid his hand from Blaine's curls to his cheek; cupping in gently but firmly to keep him from turning away. "Here, you can be who you are, not who they tell you to be; myself included, I won't force you to do anything you don't want... but I would like it if here, at least you could just let loose and be the Blaine you truly are. And by let loose, I do also mean not hiding those beautiful curls of yours away from me again."

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle at the smile that sprang to Kurt's lips on that last statement. "Yeah? You really like them?" He asked, leaning more into Kurt's palm.

"I think they are lovely." A smirk played on his face before he added, "plus imagine how gorgeous they would be if you let your hair grow out a bit." He punctuated the statement with a slow sweet kiss.

When they broke apart, Blaine snatched the tub back. Kurt defeated, looked down at his feet only raising his head when Blaine's disappeared from his view. Blaine caught Kurt's eyes as he stood near the door, his hair free, and held his hand out towards his boyfriend. "Come on; let's get lunch, so I can watch you create again." An unmatched smile sprang to Kurt's face as he took the offered hand.

Quinn was absent again when they emerged from upstairs and still hidden away when their meager meal had been devoured. Kurt didn't comment on it, so Blaine stayed silent on the subject as well. He couldn't help thinking this wasn't the norm, at least it didn't seem like it given the covert glances Kurt would send to the doorway every few minutes. He felt something was amiss and the only sure thing that was different was his own presence in the house.

Once in the barn, Blaine put Quinn out of his mind and immersed himself in the beauty that was Kurt creating. They chatted as Kurt stood in front of a new canvas on the easel. It amazed Blaine the concentration on Kurt's face as he painted. The conversation never faltered, but occasionally Kurt would fall silent, his head cocked to the side. Blaine had no idea what puzzled him, or what he saw as he contemplated his work, but before long, he would pick up his sentence or thought where he had left off and continue as if there had been no interruption. A couple of times Kurt would drift away as Blaine would be speaking. Kurt's re-emergence would be punctuated with a statement like, "so what did the headmaster say when you presented the idea?" Showing Blaine he had been listening before his mind led him away. He soon learned to read the cues and would stop as soon as Kurt's head began to lean to the side and pick back up when a spark returned to his eyes.

Blaine couldn't bear to not watch Kurt as he created it was mesmerizing and unlike anything he had ever seen before. Each stroke landed with purpose and soon a scene was covering the previously white surface. First trees and a meadow graced the canvas, the colors warm and inviting. Soon a woman, draped in green, appeared dancing. The picture seemed to live, movement inherent in its very being. The woman's auburn locks even held movement in its still form.

After Kurt signed his name with a flourish, he moved on to building more frames to stretch reams of canvas across. While this too took a skill Blaine didn't possess, he did not feel the same need to watch and memorize the actions as he had before. With Kurt's suggestion, he began to look around the space. A stack of canvases stacked against one wall showed almost identical bowls of fruit. "My old art teacher gave them to me to reuse the canvases from some of her students." Kurt explained when he asked about them. Sketches lay scattered around a long workbench. Faces, animals, landscapes, anything you could think have littered the pages in varying degrees of completion. Blaine fingered the different carving tools and paintbrushes each with warn handles but clearly cared for otherwise.

Their conversation continued all the while. As Blaine braced himself against the workbench in a laughing fit after yet another story of the adventures of Puck, papers rained down on the floor. It wasn't until Blaine leaned down to retrieve them that something else caught his eye. Stacked neatly in the corner lay books and magazines. After returning the sketches to their rightful place, Blaine reached out and picked up the stack asking, "What's this?"

"Huh?" Kurt said looking over his shoulder, a dusting of pink colored his cheeks when he saw what was in Blaine's hands. "Oh, just some things Puck picked up for me when he drove to California last summer."

Blaine looked down and finally saw the objects for what they were. Stating up at him was the sketched figures of two half-naked, muscled men, under the title 'Locker-room Lovers'. He flipped slowly through the books and more of the same met him; men in various states of dress, alone or in pairs or trios, under titles spouting words like gay, queer, twilight and forbidden. Next came magazines showing more men with rippling muscles covered only by small shorts, briefs or strategically placed cloth or limbs. He mind was frozen, his eyes merely searching the objects in his hands.

Suddenly he felt a presence beside him, moments before a hand rested on his shoulders. They relaxed immediately at the touch, before Blaine was even aware they had tensed. He looked up to see Kurt standing beside him, his eyes searching Blaine's face. "Did you read these?" He finally asked.

Kurt slowly nodded, eyes still roving over Blaine's features. He pulled in a breath before speaking, "Yes, I read them. They... I was curious, but those... They're not like instruction books."

Kurt removed the books from Blaine's hands, settling them down on the workbench. He then moved them so they were sitting in the same spaces as last night, facing each other in the window. "Puck, I told you he is oddly accepting. Sometimes more than is appropriate honestly. He has embraced the idea of free love more than anyone else I know. To him, sex is just fun and everyone should be having as much and the best sex possible." Blaine fidgeted in his place; desire and fear warring within him. Kurt seemed to sense this because he grabbed his hand and began to rub slow circles with his thumb. A light chuckle sent Blaine's heart pitter patting before he spoke again. "He bought me those in an insane attempt to free me to go out and get laid." Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled in memory. Blaine just watched him once more in awe of him, at a loss of what to say. "I don't need books, especially those." Kurt added looking deep in Blaine's eyes.

"Why?" Blaine almost squeaked.

Kurt smile was soft and caring, "For one, it's not that I lack desire, I am an eighteen year old boy, trust me when I say I am plenty horny as it is." He gulped looking away, "It has taken all my strength these last couple of days not to just give in to my hormones. I want... I desire... so much, that's not the problem. I saw those men at the bar; I saw the shame and lust on their faces... I didn't want that. My own hand was good enough... I didn't think I could have something like this," he said indicating between the two of them. "I didn't think I could have someone like you, so I just put it on the back burner. I didn't want a quick fuck in the back room of a bar, I want something more."

Blaine nodded, he understood that, the idea of doing anything like even what he had done with Kurt already with a stranger made him squirm with discomfort. "But what about those books?" He asked looking over to the work bench where they lay.

"Most of them are a dark fantasy. There are crazy scenarios where men find each other and go at it using words like desire instead of dick. For the most part, they show the worst stereotypes of homosexuals and involve rape and prostitution. All the while, the men tend to hate themselves for being the way they are. It's not what I am looking for..."Kurt said throwing disgusted glances at the books across the room. "I read them hoping to see something different... And I guess a couple of them aren't too bad, but most of them, at least the ones Puck brought, ended up making me feel violated." He then crossed the room, and dug through the pile. He returned with one in hand. "This one, if you can get past the innuendo is not too bad." He said handing the book to Blaine.

The cover showed a Native American man, dressed only in a loincloth, playing a flute leaning against a log, while a mountain man lounged nearby looking at him. Above them, the title, 'Song of the Loon' was written in red script.

Blaine looked up at Kurt, desperate in his hope for answers to the questions burning in his mind. "And the magazines were they helpful in anyway?"

Kurt shook his head, "Not really, they mainly talk about why we need to band together and fight for our rights. They are written by dreamers, who think that the world will change if we just shout loud enough. And that's coming from me." Kurt chuckled shaking his head at himself.

"You don't think it would work?" Blaine asked, doubtful himself.

Kurt seemed to contemplate before he spoke, "I don't think enough people would expose themselves like that, not now at least. Yes, it is like the civil rights movement, we are being denied our rights, just like the blacks have been, but unlike them, we're a secret minority, we can hide, so we do. Mainly because if we don't we could end up in jail or the nuthouse, or worse. I don't know what it would take to make people take a stand, but hell I know I am not ready to risk everything to march in the streets. Others, they could lose their jobs, their families, along with what freedom they do have. I hate hiding, but I hate the thought of what would happen if we didn't."

Blaine nodded, thinking about what his family would do if they ever found out he had spent the better part of the weekend kissing another boy, and thinking about doing more than that. Kurt brought him out of his contemplation with his own question. "Why do you want these things to be more than they are?"

"I just... I want to know what this is... what it's leading to. I want to know what to expect, I can't go and ask my friends... I guess I hoped there was a way I could research... learn." Blaine's face was burning as he spoke the words looking no further than his own knees, but a cool hand caressed his cheek, lifting his gaze to piercing blue eyes.

"Hey, you have me... I know a little about the mechanics of it all... The rest we can figure out together... when you're ready. I don't think we're there quite yet though. When we are..." He trailed off biting his lip, but his gaze wasn't shy, instead his pupils were large as his eyes racked across Blaine's form. Blaine's breath caught when he saw Kurt's Adam's apple bob with a gulp.

"Yeah," he whispered leaning in, "I think will figure it out just fine." They didn't talk anymore and the book lay abandoned on the floor between them.

Sunday passed in pretty much the same manner as Saturday. They woke up entwined on Kurt's bed, dealt with the animals, then cooked breakfast before heading to the fields to work. Clean up followed, then lunch before returning to the barn where Kurt created (this time carving intricate designs into a branch turned cane) while Blaine watched in awe of his talent. All this interspersed with kissed and touches that left Blaine tingling and wanting for more. Quinn had kept herself scarce, a point neither man missed though neither commented on it either. As the sun began to set, Blaine reluctantly stood next to his car, knowing he had to leave soon if he was to return to Dalton before curfew.

"When will you be back?" Kurt asked running his thumb across the skin exposed by Blaine's rucked up t-shirt. Blaine reveled in the fact that it was a question of when and not if.

"I can't get away until Friday night." He mumbled, "I wish I could see you sooner."

Kurt smiled sweetly at him. "We can't have you slacking off school now though, it's important you make it to Kent state next year." They both knew what could happen if he didn't but neither wanted to mention it more plainly. Kurt backed away, pulling something from the waistband of his pants. "Here, take this...just keep it safe." Blaine took the battered looking copy of Hamlet from Kurt's hand. "Drive safe and I'll see you Friday, yes?"

"Definitely," Blaine said punctuating it with a kiss. "Friday."

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slid into the car and drove away. When he arrived at Dalton, he flipped through the book Kurt had given him. Nestled beneath the Hamlet cover 'Song of the Loon' hid, a note looped across the title page, "Good thing your friends hate the classics. Read this and think of me. K"