Elizabeth was seated in her reserved spot at the caf�, taking sips of her mocha, staring into nothingness. The previous night went according to plan, if she did say so herself, but she couldn't help but wonder what happened when her fathers went home. Did they argue some more? Probably, she thought. Did they proceed to not talk to one another? That was a possibility. Did they have an incredibly heated make out session? Probably not, but she could dream. One thing that was definitive was that this was either going to end either catastrophically or perfectly. She was definitely hoping for the latter.

Andrew was not only playing along, but he was almost as committed to getting these two love birds back together as she was. The way he spoke with such authority to the two people who he wanted to impress the most, was extremely well done and extremely hot. She loved her fianc�, the poor guy. He was so paranoid that night, he barely got any sleep. He told her in full detail exactly what happened when she left her papa and him alone, and she was kind of terrified for him as well. All she could do was assure him that she was about ninety percent sure that her father never actually killed anyone before. But that freaked him out even more, because, "What about the ten percent, Elizabeth?"

She got off the phone with her papa about fifteen minutes ago, telling him this story. They both got a good chuckle out of that, but he neither confirmed nor denied whether he has, indeed, killed someone. Not that he would. Of course he wouldn't. Elizabeth was not to be paranoid of her father because of a silly interrogation. She looked at her cell phone, realizing that her dad was running late. She was about to call him when she heard the familiar jingle of the caf� door. She looked behind her, noticing her dad was holding the door for someone. That someone was her papa, laughing at something her dad said, and did he just blush? Interesting turn of events, she thought.

She watched them interact a little bit more before turning back in her seat, smiling over the light bickering that her fathers were having.

"You allowed me into your home, so the least I can do is pay for coffee," her papa said.

"You're not going to pay for my coffee. It's not that much."

"If it's not that much, then why are you making it such a big deal, dummy?" Her papa sounded particularly playful this morning.

"I'm not making a big deal, I'm just --"

"There's no argument here. I'm paying for coffee. Deal with it." He said with finality. There was a short silence between them, but not uncomfortable.

"Alright, fine." Her dad replied in a defeated tone.

"Great. Still the same coffee order? Medium drip, two sugars, one cream, and a little bit of cinnamon?"

This time, the silence was much longer. Elizabeth would have squealed, jumped, and giggled over how cute that this was, but she didn't. She just kept her back to them, smiling like a little girl on Christmas morning. This was actually working, she thought to herself.

"You know what? I think I'm going to pay for my own coffee," her dad said, his mood taking an obvious shift, changing the atmosphere completely.

"What? Why?" Her papa asked, which was exactly what she was thinking.

"Look, I'm just," he sighed audibly, "I appreciate the kind gesture, but you are not paying for my coffee. End of discussion." More silence filled the air, but it was a lot more hostile than before.

"Wow, okay," he replied, both confused and aggravated, "You were right, some things never change."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her dad raised his voice a little.

"What it means," her papa said, emphasizing his last word, "is that you're still the same person I divorced all those years ago. You're ungrateful, rude, and immature. Your mood changes with the weather, and your pride is obviously keeping you from saying how you really feel. Need I go on?"

"Spare me," he said, loud enough for people's heads to turn. Without another word, Kurt handed him a five dollar bill to pay for his drink, and made his way over to his daughter. Elizabeth tried to act as if she didn't overhear their heated conversation, but it was no use.

"Sorry you had to hear that, sweetheart," her papa apologized sincerely. He kissed her on the cheek and sat down where her dad usually sat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, earning her a look from her papa, "Did you mean the big hissy fit that grumpy old man just had about thirty seconds ago?"

Her papa laughed, beginning to relax in his seat, "That would be the one. I swear, your father is so --"

"Say no more," Elizabeth smiled, "I've known the guy my whole life. I know exactly how he can get." She tried to drop the subject, considering that her dad was in earshot distance.

"Yeah, just don't say anything to him. He'll get over it," he said, as her dad made his way to the table.

"Okay, sure," Elizabeth smiled mischievously. She looked up at her dad, who looked extremely conflicted. She was almost positive it had to do with her papa sitting in his regular seat. It looked like he was about to say something about it, but decided against it, pulling up another seat.

"Here's your nonfat mocha," her dad all but slammed the drink on the table next to Kurt.

"That's not my --"

"Yes, it is," he said, still as cranky as he was before.

"How did you --"

"I heard you yesterday," her dad sighed.

"Oh."

"So, Dad," Elizabeth smiled, "what crawled up your ass this lovely morning? Obviously, nothing pleasant." Immediately, her fathers tensed.

"Excuse me?" Her dad glared at her, like he couldn't quite believe what she said.

"Do you want me to repeat the question?"

"Elizabeth, that is no way to speak to your father," her papa hissed, seeming more angry than her dad was.

"Papa, if you think that ignoring my dad is the smart thing to do, it's no wonder you got divorced," she said, earning a gasp from both of them. She returned her attention to her dad, "So, what is it this time?"

"Not now, Elizabeth," he warned.

"Actually, it's the perfect time," she continued, "because your ex-husband is right here, and you know as well as I do that there are things you want to say."

"What is she talking about?" Her papa asked.

"Nothing!" Blaine scowled. She could practically see the steam radiating from his ears.

"Oh, it's something," she remained calm and collected. "Was it the coffee order?" She looked at her dad's hand, which was flexing into a fist, a telltale sign that he was about to break. "That's what I thought," she sighed dramatically.

"Please don't do this. Not right now," her dad pleaded, finally looking into her eyes. There was pain behind them, which never ceased to break her heart. It made her wonder if what she was doing was too soon.

"Okay," she whispered, "but promise me you'll talk about it?"

"Talk about what, exactly?" Her papa was completely out of the loop, which didn't make him happy.

"That depends," she told her father cryptically. Elizabeth kept her eyes on her dad, who finally gave her a small nod.

"Well," her dad said, grabbing his coat, "I'm heading home. Liz, you think you can bring him back to my house when you're done for the day?"

"Yeah, it might be late. We were planning on checking out a few bakeries and looking at some linens."

"Alright then," he stood there awkwardly for a moment, deciding to give his daughter a kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you later, young lady. You too, Kurt." Once he was gone, her father insisted she'd speak up, but she didn't. They finally changed the subject to her wedding, planning the entire day together, but Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder if she crossed the line with her dad. She needed to set herself some boundaries, and quickly, before she sabotaged her own plan.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was half past midnight when Blaine heard the front door open quietly. The moment Blaine got home from the caf�, he took a long shower, changed into his most comfortable sweats, and watched ESPN for hours, trying and failing to keep his mind off Kurt. This emotional roller coaster he had been riding, after only two days of breathing the same air as his ex-husband, was already too much to handle. What baffled him was, he had no idea why. His eyes never peered from the television screen when he heard Kurt make his way into the living room, eventually sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

"What's going on?" Kurt asked him, point blank. There was no anger or bitterness in his tone, but genuine concern.

"I'm not sure," he answered as honestly as he could.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what, exactly?" Blaine asked, clearly tired.

"I don't know. Whatever is on your mind would be a good start."

"But that's the problem. Whatever is going on in my head doesn't make sense," he sighed, "I'm pretty sure that if I tell you what is on my mind, you'll think I'm crazy."

"Well it's a good thing I already consider you crazy," Kurt smiled. Blaine, however, did not.

"Why did you lie to me about your coffee order?" He looked Kurt directly in the eye.

"I asked you what was on your mind, and you're turning it around?" His tone was a mix of nervousness and annoyance.

"No, I'm not turning it around. I am speaking what is on my mind, and that question has been on my mind from the second you lied," Blaine replied.

"I did not --"

"-- Don't finish that sentence, Kurt. You know how much I hate it when you lie about lying," he rushed, "You can't stand caramel. I'm sure some things about you have changed, but I am pretty sure... no, I am positive that you still don't like it, let alone drink it."

"Where are you getting at?" Kurt seemed exhausted from his long day with Elizabeth, but was determined to figure out what's wrong, "Is this really about our coffee orders?"

"Just answer the question," he said, which only confused Kurt more, "Why did you lie?" All too soon, the familiar and uncomfortable silence returned.

"I don't know," he answered softly, "I think I was just uncomfortable with the fact that you remembered."

"Wow," he said so quietly, he wasn't even sure if his ex-husband could hear, "you answered my question perfectly."

"Now you're being sarcastic?" Kurt's aggravation was turning into anger.

"No, I mean," Blaine leaned back into the couch, rubbing his face tiredly, "you answered the question, that I've been asking myself, perfectly."

"Oh my God, I'm exhausted, and you're confusing the hell out of me," Kurt sighed, sounding a bit defeated.

"When you remembered my coffee order," he tried to choose his words wisely, so he didn't sound crazier than he already felt, "at first, I was happy. Flattered that you still remembered after all this time. And then, I got uncomfortable, because I didn't want you to make me happy or flattered. I planned on secretly despising you your entire time here, and only putting up with you because, well, Elizabeth. So basically, I was angry at myself for letting you make me feel anything other than resentment, because you're my ex. It's kind of an unwritten law that I'm supposed to not like you. Not that I'm saying I like you, because I don't. I mean, I do, but I don't. And now I don't know what the hell I feel or how I should feel. But I feel something that I wasn't planning on feeling, which makes me really uncomfortable, and now I sound crazy."

The silence stretched for so long, it was sure that Kurt must have fallen asleep. Or at least he hoped.

"Can you repeat that?" Kurt asked, causing him to jump a little. Blaine groaned, throwing the nearest pillow in Kurt's direction, causing both men to giggle. "How the hell did you become an English teacher? I understood maybe one thing throughout your entire speech."

"Really? And which part was that?" Blaine asked. Kurt put a finger to his chin and hummed, pretending to think about his answer. He did not look adorable at all, Blaine told himself.

"The part where you finally admitted you were crazy," he barely finished that sentence before he was being beaten with a magazine.

"I knew you were going to say that! I just ask for trouble, don't I?" Blaine poked at his sides until Kurt was on his back.

"And now you finally admit to being the instigator in this relationship. Color me proud, Anderson," Kurt gasped as Blaine straddled him, tickling him until he couldn't breathe. Suddenly, the mood changed dramatically when the fight ended. They both seemed to recognize their current positions, and just looked at each other intensely. Blaine was all but draped across Kurt like a blanket, pinning his wrists above his head. Everything around them was quiet, save for their heavy breathing. Underneath him, Kurt looked completely wrecked. His hair was facing every direction, and his eyes were just barely open. He felt so warm and solid under his touch, and Blaine didn't realize how much he missed this until that moment.

"I completely understand what you mean now," Kurt whispered, looking from Blaine's eyes to his lips, still breathing harshly, but for a completely different reason, "about feeling things that you don't want to feel." Blaine's lips quirked slightly at his admission.

"You have no idea how badly I don't want to kiss you right now," he breathed, staring in awe at Kurt's wet and ready lips.

"Then don't," Kurt replied flatly, catching him completely off guard. Blaine didn't know whether he was giving him permission to continue, or to back off. When he met Kurt's eyes, his heart fell to his stomach when he saw them rimmed with tears. Quickly, he loosened his grip on Kurt, as they made their way to opposite ends of the couch. He felt cold and empty, something he had grown used to for the past several years. He couldn't look him in the eye even if he wanted to. Even when he heard sniffling, he didn't move his eyes from his hands. At first, Blaine thought he imagined it, because Kurt was speaking so softly, but then he repeated his words just a little bit louder, "It's for the best."

"And why is that?" He knew why, but he didn't want to believe it.

"Where do I begin?" Kurt sighed, "First off, nothing good will come of this. We'll regret it. I mean, it's not like you and I are ever getting back together."

"I know that," Blaine replied sadly, "I just want to remember what it feels like to be happy." Kurt let out a small sob, causing him to look over in alarm. Just as he figured, Kurt looked miserable. He was facing away from him, but by the way his shoulders sagged, and head held low, he knew that the man next to him was hurting.

"I'm so, so sorry," Kurt said between his sobs.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Blaine lied, trying his best to comfort him from afar.

"There's plenty to be sorry about," he choked out a laugh, but with no humor behind it, "Just, the way everything was handled, between both of us. We tried harder to make each other suffer than we did to save our own marriage. There's so much I wish I could have changed, but I can't. And now look at us, more confused than ever. It's not fair," he repeated that last line over and over again, causing him to cry harder.

"I know, it's not," Blaine said, trying hard to hide his own tears that were dangerously close to spilling, "but that was a long time ago. We've moved on."

"Have we, though?" Kurt asked, wiping his eyes with his shirt, "I mean, does all of this," he gestured his hands between the two of them, "look like we moved on?"

"We haven't seen each other in years," he replied, trying to find logic about what was happening, "I think maybe we are just trying to adapt. Because seeing each other is bringing back a lot of memories, both good and bad, and we just don't know how to act around each other," he finished. This seemed to relax his ex a little bit, earning him a nod.

"In that case, I think it would be best if we saw each other as little as possible," Kurt decided, "and that way, we can still get along, without things getting complicated and confusing. I came here for my daughter, and I don't want her getting upset." As much as it hurt, Blaine agreed, feeling like this was the best thing for their daughter.

Kurt immediately got on the Internet, looking for the best Philadelphia hotels for him to stay at for the duration of his visit. Soon after, Blaine made his way to the bedroom, passing out the moment his head hit the pillow.

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