Kurt grinned as Elizabeth sat by her Pop-Pop’s side, babbling on about Sophie, her best girlfriend back home, and Barbie, who was considering buying a dog if her daddies would get one from the store for her. “He’s not a real dog,” Lizzie felt compelled to explain to a very patient Pop-Pop. “He’s a plastic one that comes in a box.” Pop-Pop merely nodded and continued listening while Kurt sat, Blaine standing next to him, and observed their happy reunion.

There was a lull in the cheerful chatter in the room, and Blaine informed Elizabeth gently that Pop-Pop had to rest now, and they should get going. He looked at Kurt to make sure it was all right with him if they left, and Kurt nodded.

“Meet you down at the car?” he asked, and Blaine nodded back. He took hold of Lizzie’s hand and she waved to her Pop-Pop and blew him kisses as Carole and Finn walked out into the hallway with them to say good-bye.

Kurt was alone with his dad.

He turned back to him and dragged the chair on the right side of the bed closer to the mattress. He reached out and took his father’s hand, curling his fingers around his father’s thicker ones, his skin callused from work. Kurt sat quietly while his dad looked at him, his eyes tired around the edges but gleaming with life inside the irises, and abruptly, Kurt scolded him. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Burt patted his hand and Kurt caught the glimpse of a smile across his dad’s face. “Scared the hell out of me,” was his dad’s reply.

Kurt’s tone softened. “You’ve got to stop doing this,” he sighed light-heartedly, and his eyes started to well. He forced a smile, though, and Burt smiled back at him. “I need you, Dad. Blaine needs you. Elizabeth, and Carole, and Finn…we all need you.”

Burt took Kurt’s hand, encasing it in his firm grip. “I need you guys, too. All of you.”

“Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself from now on.”

“I promise.”

“That means taking a break, too, sometimes,” Kurt reminded him, keeping the smile on his face. “Guess who told me that once?”

His dad smiled wider. “I told you that, when you first moved to New York.” He sighed, turning his head to look at the ceiling. “You and me, kid…we’re just a bunch of workaholics. Two peas in a pod.”

Kurt sat back in his chair, still holding his dad’s hand. “Yup. I guess we are,” he agreed solemnly.

Carole and Finn returned from the hallway then, and Kurt leaned over his father to hug him as gently but efficiently as possible, careful not to jar any wires or machines in the process. “Love you, Dad,” he said lowly, and Burt responded in kind.

“Love you too, Kurt.”

“We’ll see you again tomorrow, okay?”

Burt nodded, and Carole beamed at them from the other side of the bed, her arm around Finn. It was starting to feel like it had all been a bad dream, and slowly but surely, they were all waking up to realize that the horror that had felt so real was past, and there was nothing to look forward to but the sunshine of the day and the radiant grins from their entire family.

*

When they returned to the house that night, Kurt called Mercedes to check on the progress of their work at the studio. Once she’d gotten the story of Carole’s phone call out of him in New York, she’d practically shoved Kurt out the door, making sure he got into a cab that would take him straight to his apartment. He vaguely remembered trying to protest about who would oversee their projects while he was gone, but his argument had no steam behind it and she’d shushed him without even trying. She’d had Blaine on the phone so fast she almost made Kurt dizzy, and their flight had been booked before Kurt’s cab had even pulled to a stop at the curb on 76th street. Now she wanted every last bit of information concerning the entire incident, and Kurt outlined every detail of his dad’s situation for her. She expressed her enormous relief at Burt’s improving condition, and then described every detail of what had gone down at work recently. Everything seemed to be in order for the Pastiche magazine spread they were working on, and the model they had chosen together, Claudia, had already been in to the studio to be fitted in the outfits Kurt had crafted especially for her.

“You should see her,” Mercedes gushed. “The evening gown is gorgeous on her. Perfect fit, Kurt, really. The editors are going to be so happy.”

Yet another thing to be cheery about. Kurt thanked Mercedes and they hung up soon after, with multiple warnings of ‘take care of yourself’ from her and an ‘I love you’ exchange between the both of them, Kurt’s return to New York still yet to be determined.

No rush. Come back when you’re ready. Mercedes had proved over the years to be the best business partner Kurt could have ever asked for, not to mention the most awesomely reliable and loyal friend.

*

A week later, Burt was discharged from the hospital, with strict orders for bed rest and an adherence to a precise medication schedule. Burt grumbled under his breath about all the pills, but the medication was temporary until his body healed completely, and Kurt was overjoyed that he was coming home. Carole, being the devoted wife with an added bonus of also being a nurse, swore up and down to the hospital staff that she would take excellent care of Burt (of which they had no disbelief), and away they went.

After dinner that night, a dinner in which everyone basically sat around beaming at each other in between bites of food, Kurt helped Carole settle Burt in his bed upstairs with the TV on low. After the blankets had been thoroughly tucked around all sides of his father, Kurt climbed into the bed next to him, resting on his left side, his head against Carole’s pillow. Burt looked at him for a moment – surprised, no doubt, that his grown son had just crawled into bed with him like he was five again – then slowly, he covered Kurt’s hand where it rested atop the covers with his own. They lay in silence, the only movement coming from Carole, who quietly tucked a few pieces of dirty laundry into the hamper and then moved discreetly to tidy the belongings on top of her dresser across the room.

“So catch me up,” Burt said then, and the lightness of his tone made Kurt smile. “What’s going on at that crazy job of yours?”

Kurt smiled harder, moving his free hand up underneath his cheek as he snuggled into Carole’s pillow. “It’s just gotten crazier,” he said fondly, looking at his dad. “There’s this relatively small fashion magazine that just started up in New York. They contacted me not too long ago, asking if I would be willing to sit down for an interview, and if I could put together some outfits that I thought really defined my line.”

Burt’s eyes crinkled in pride at his son. “That’s really awesome, Kurt.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt said sincerely, and at that moment he knew he would always, always need some form of his father’s praise in his life. “Of course, I didn’t realize at the time that they wanted me to model the clothes.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” his dad asked. “You did it back when you were younger. I thought you enjoyed that kind of thing.”

“Well, it’s funny,” Kurt replied, his gaze falling to their hands, where they still rested together on the bed. “Ten years ago, I would have been over the moon at an opportunity like that. But now…I guess I’ve just realized that my line is not about me. The designs are, but the actual clothes are for everyone else. The clothes I make are supposed to be suited to people who are not me, but who want to look just as fabulous.” He feigned a haughty grin, signaling that the last part of his statement was only semi-serious.

Carole gave him a curious look from across the room, not from his joke, but because she was trying to understand his point of view. She remained silent, however, letting Kurt have the moment with his dad.

But Kurt jumped to explain quickly, even without her outright asking. “I mean,” he piped back up, “our model, Claudia, is a working single mom. She has two kids that play soccer and take ballet lessons and all those things kids do. She’s not a size two. Her daily workout is lifting her kids into backseat of the car, or tirelessly pushing them on the swings at the park. She’s…for lack of a better word, normal. Real.”

Burt nodded, content to listen.

“My line is about all those—“ Kurt emphasized the next two words, as if he were quoting them, “average joes. All those people who are comfortable with who they are and how they look. That’s what my line is made to represent.” Kurt grinned up at his dad. “So I was able to politely decline modeling the clothes myself, and got the mag to agree to Claudia instead. Mercedes tells me she’s a knockout in the outfits we put together. So hopefully it will all go well.”

Carole moved to sit on the bed with the two of them, perching on the end by Kurt’s feet. Burt patted Kurt’s hand, still grinning. “That’s fantastic,” he said. “You’re doing really well for yourself, Kurt.”

Kurt overturned his hand and gripped his father’s, squeezing it. “Yeah, well…I had help,” he admitted. “From everyone in this house. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere if I hadn’t had all the support.”

Carole put her hand on Kurt’s ankle and smiled sweetly at him. The three of them remained like that for a moment, saying nothing, just reveling in each other’s company.

“Okay, time for sleep for you,” Kurt said to his dad, even though it was barely eight o’clock. He got up and moved away from the bed towards the door. He looked back as Carole scooted up the mattress to lay next to Burt and reached to take his hand. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” his parents echoed, and Kurt closed the bedroom door softly behind him.

As he came downstairs, he could hear Finn and Blaine’s voices mixing in the living room. He walked in just as Finn was asking if he could take Lizzie out to get ice cream from the new place that had just opened in town.

Blaine looked at Kurt, and for a minute, Kurt was reluctant to let her go – he wanted his family all together in the same place right now – but Finn promised they’d be quick, and she looked so happy at the idea of an ice cream cone that Kurt couldn’t say no. Besides, it was sure to be amusing, watching an inexperienced Finn juggle a six-year-old and a runny ice cream cone when they made it back home.

While they were gone, Kurt and Blaine snuggled on the pullout couch, Kurt resting his head against Blaine’s chest, Blaine’s hand smoothing his hair. Despite his small frame, Blaine was solid beneath him, chest rising and falling evenly, heart thrumming in Kurt’s ear, body warm and comforting. Kurt nuzzled him, squeezing Blaine’s side, and Blaine dropped a kiss onto his head. They didn’t speak, just held each other, taking in one another’s breathing, enjoying the light scent of the fabric softener from their clothes, sharing what they wanted to say without the use of words.

Then Finn and Lizzie came home, and Kurt and Blaine sat up in bed. Kurt could only laugh as he took in Finn’s bewildered face, and Blaine got off the bed to help Lizzie clean up her cone, which really meant a licking contest between the two of them to see who could fix all the drips the fastest.

Finn flopped on the couch next to Kurt, clearly befuddled. “I don’t know how you do it, Kurt,” he sighed, glancing down at his fingers, which were sticky with ice cream. He gestured to Lizzie’s cone, which was looking better now that Blaine and his immense love for the frozen treat were helping. “That thing started to melt before we’d even left the place.”

Kurt just laughed heartily and empathetically clapped him on the back.

*

A week past that, Kurt deemed it time for the three of them to return to New York, to home. Burt was doing incredibly well – could move around on his own, and he’d been able to stop taking all but two medications, and Finn was handling the shop with surprising fluidity, especially since it was still buzzing daily with customers. Kurt had helped out a day or two to lighten the load, and Blaine had kept Lizzie entertained despite the fact that they were in Lima, otherwise known as Ohio’s own one-horse town. When Kurt had first brought the topic of the three of them leaving up to Burt and Carole one night, they’d both insisted that it was totally fine for him to return home. He and the family were welcome to stay, of course, but he had a job that he’d been neglecting (their word, not Kurt’s), and Blaine had summer session classes that were starting soon. So he finally, reluctantly, agreed, and so did Blaine, with the reassurance that Kurt could change his mind at any time and he’d be totally fine with staying even a week or however long more.

Lizzie had been upset, though, because she’d been spending so much quality time with Pop-Pop and had been loving it (and Kurt and Blaine had been loving it, too), but then Blaine reminded her that she was going to art camp in a week, and they had to get ready for that.

“Oh, art camp!” she cried cheerfully. Then she paused. “What’s art camp?”

Blaine laughed and said, “It’s the place where you’re going to paint pictures and play instruments, remember? In the park.”

“Oh yeah!” Lizzie cried then, and this time they could tell she really did remember. “I get to play the chinga-chinga thing!”

“The what thing?” Blaine asked her.

“You know, Daddy,” she replied. “You shake it, and it goes chinga-chinga. Those boys play it at your concerts all the time.” She mimed the movement, and suddenly Blaine knew exactly what she was talking about.

“You mean the tambourine,” he said, and she nodded enthusiastically. She’d seen them at Blaine’s showcases at school, where his students would play the pieces of music they’d been working on all semester for the family and friends in attendance.

“I’m excited!” Lizzie declared then. “I get to play the tambourine and the harp! Well, I’ll get to play the harp someday…but I get to play the tambourine now!” and Blaine laughed and kissed her on the head in affirmation.