Patricia and I sit in a den - obviously hers, given the décor - casually chatting when we hear Cooper yell Blaine's name before the front door slams. I think I hear Cooper mutter "dammit" as we walk out to the foyer to figure out what's going on.

            "Cooper," Patricia asks, clearly worried, "what's going on? Where'd Blaine go?"

            He turns around to face us, anger and sadness in his eyes. "He went outside," he starts to say before I interrupt him.

            "Blaine went outside?" I ask. "Into a blizzard? Why?"

            "I'll tell you why," Walter says, taking his sweet time coming out of his study. "My son is a dumb ass; when he gets highly emotional like this he doesn't think."

            "He wouldn't have gone outside if you weren't such an insensitive prick," Cooper yells at his father.

            "Cooper!" Patricia gasps.

            "What the fuck is going on?" I exclaim, gaining their attention before they get sucked into whatever family squabble.

            "Well let's see," Cooper starts in a sarcastic tone, counting each thing off on his fingers, "father called Blaine - and you - a pussy, a fairy, and basically said if the two of you get married he'd disown him. So, after telling father to fuck off, Blaine stormed out the door - not properly equipped for a blizzard, I might add."

            I stand there, mouth unattractively agape, honestly shocked that someone would treat their child that way; that Blaine would feel the need to go out into a blizzard just to get away from his father.

            I frown. "Someone has to go get him."

            Walter laughs. "You seriously want to go out in this?" he says, pointing out the window. "You'll just get lost. Blaine knows his way around; he can handle himself in a storm."

            "Ah ha," I say tonelessly. "Do what you will; I'm going out there to find him and drag him back here."

            I keep walking straight ahead, into the wind, arms wrapped around my torso. My feet feel like they're being stabbed with sharp, tiny needles everywhere, but I figure that's better than not being able to feel them at all, so I stick to it. I can't even see where I'm going - the whipping snow's forced me to close my eyes - but I just follow my instincts. After a long while I make it to the neighborhood playground that I used to escape to when I just had to get away from father and Cooper wasn't home to rescue me. I can barely tell that's what it is, given everything is half covered in snow and I'm squinting so much, but I just know this is it.

            I force my way to my favorite swing and sit down. Even though I can't use it for its main function, I still feel better being in my old sanctuary. So I sit here, clutching the swing so I don't blow away or something, eyes closed and turned into the blowing snow; I always felt more at home in the elements.

            All of a sudden I hear a noise off to my left. I turn quickly and scan the area but I don't see anything, so I close my eyes again to prevent more snow from getting in them. When I hear the noise again I decide to find out what it is.

            "Who's there?" I yell, my voice carried away by the wind.

            "Blaine?!" a voice calls, closer than the noise was before.

            My head snaps up in amazement. "Kurt?! How'd you find me here?"

            "I followed the scent of angst, loathing, and pure idiocy," he replies sarcastically from right next to me, making me jump.

            "Jesus," I mutter, clutching at my heart before standing up. "I suppose you're here to take me back."

            "Unless you'd like to stay out here in below zero weather, during a snow storm, yes."

            "Why are you the one that came after me?" I ask as we start walking back the way we came.

            "Shocked I would come out into a blizzard to save your sorry ass?" he asks. I nod, choosing not to dignify that with a verbal response. "Truthfully, after Cooper told us why you left, I wanted to get away from your father as well."

            "He has that affect on people doesn't he?" I grumble bitterly.

            "Mmm," Kurt hums in agreement. "Almost justifies you coming out into a blizzard wearing only this," he says over the wind, motioning at my ensemble.

            I laugh slightly, "Not my best idea."

            "Along with telling your father about our engagement, it would seem," Kurt says, not sounding at all thrilled. "I thought we were going to wait until tonight, at dinner?"

             "Yeah..." I sigh. "He was just pissing me off so fucking much. I guess I'd finally had enough, after all these years."

            "Seems about time after what your mother told me," he says, almost conversationally.

            "After what - of course mother told you."

            "Well I am your fiancé after all," Kurt says with a smirk. "Plus your mother just adores me."

            "That's because she doesn't know you," I counter.

            "Watch it Anderson," Kurt threatens, "I'm not afraid to bury you in the snow and leave you to fend for yourself."

            I laugh. "Like you'd get any more snow on that McQueen jacket you're wearing." For an answer I'm shoved into a huge snowdrift we're passing by. "Of course you know this means war," I call after him as I scramble out, forming a quick snowball before I lop it at his back.

            Kurt spins around quickly, glaring when he notices my cheeky grin. "Oh you did not." And before we know it we're having a full-on snowball fight, in the middle of the blizzard, me barely wearing anything. Inevitably, Kurt gains the upper hand, throwing countless snowballs in my face. In a snap decision I run at and tackle Kurt to the ground. When he proceeds to shove more snow in my face while he struggles, I start tickling him, reducing him to giggles.

            "Stop, stop, stop! I give, I give!" Kurt gasps out.

            I grin down at him. "I win," I manage to say before he turns his head and looks at me, and I'm caught in his eyes, unconsciously not breathing. For a seemingly endless moment he stares back, something unfamiliar coming to light in his eyes. I even have the urge to bend my head down a little bit more and just kiss him.

            "Blaine," Kurt says as quietly as he can, what with the wind still blowing like crazy.

            "Yes?" I ask, glancing between his eyes and mouth as I gather the courage to kiss him.

            He stares back up at me, searching for something in my eyes. "Can you please get off of me?" That is not at all what I thought you were going to say. "My ass is getting a little soaked here, and these are definitely not the proper clothes to be worn while playing in the disgusting snow."

            I sigh, disappointed that the moment is gone. "Well you're the one that went out in a blizzard wearing McQueen."

            "Says the man who's wearing no coat and only a ratty, old pair of oxfords on his feet."

            "Hey!" I protest, offering Kurt a hand up. "These are not ratty!"

            "Sure they aren't," Kurt says, pacifying me. "Now let's head back before your toes freeze off." And with that he starts walking back to the house again.

            We walk in an oddly comfortable silence, huddled up against the wind we're walking into. I glance surreptitiously at Kurt every few minutes, without even understanding why I'm doing it.

            He really is beautiful, I think. Then, realizing what I just thought, I shake my head as if that'll prevent me from having any more unwanted thoughts about Kurt.

            As we're walking up the driveway Kurt pulls me to a stop, a hand resting lightly on my bicep, the heat of the contact burning through my thin cardigan. Eyebrows raised in question, I wait for him to explain why we stopped before going into the house.

            "Cooper told me what your father said about me - about the both of us - and I, uh," he pauses to clear his throat. "I just wanted to say thank you - for defending me."

            I smile slightly. "Don't worry about it," I brush aside. I then grab the hand still on my arm, intertwine our fingers - much to the surprise of the both of us - and lead Kurt back into the house.

            As soon as I set foot inside I'm slapped resoundingly across my left cheek.

            "Oww!" I complain, rubbing my face. "What was that for?"

            "For making me worry," mother says, tears in her eyes.

            I try to say something, anything to make her feel better but nothing comes to mind, so I just shut my mouth and hug her tightly.

            Mother hugs me back before pulling away to give Kurt an even bigger hug. "Thank you for going out there to find him," she mutters gratefully into his ear.

            Kurt hugs her back, a little less awkward this time around. "It's my pleasure," he says. "Someone needs to keep an eye on him; he's like a little puppy." He smirks at me over mother's shoulder, knowing I hate it when people compare me to a puppy. I just flip him off and try to think of a way I can get him back for that.

            I hiss slightly as I try to make my way upstairs to my room. The cold must have affected my feet worse than I thought.

            "Need any help?" Kurt asks mockingly from the second floor landing.

            I scowl, gaze focused on the steps as I go up one by one. "No, I got this."

            Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough for him though because next moment Kurt's standing next to me, left arm wrapped around my waist while he wraps my right arm around his shoulders, and he practically carries my up to our attic room.

            I sigh in frustration. I hate it when people insist on helping me, I think. "You know, this really isn't necessary," I say to him.

            "If you want to be in warm, dry clothes before dinner, yes it is," Kurt counters.

            I laugh. "You really think people are going to be able to make it in this weather?" I ask.

            He stops and thinks for a moment. "That hadn't occurred to me," he says thoughtfully as we continue on up the stairs.

            Finally we make it to our room (Since when did I start referring to it as our room?) and Kurt deposits me onto the bed and orders me to dispose of my snow-soaked clothing.

            "All of it?" I ask.

            "Yes," he says, like it's obvious.

            I raise my brows. "You do realize that means I'm going to be completely naked, right?"

            Kurt rolls his eyes. "No, really?" he says sarcastically.

            "All right," I say. "I didn't think you were ready to see my very fine body without clothing quite yet, but it's your funeral."

            He scoffs. "Please. I'm from France remember? I've seen plenty of naked men, and women, in my day."

            "Suit yourself," I shrug and start stripping. Oh god, Kurt's gonna see me naked... Wait, why does it matter? I don't care what he thinks! ...Do I?

            "While you're doing that, I'm going to grab you some clean, relatively warm clothes."

            We're both quiet until something occurs to me. "Why are you being so nice to me? Well, nice for you?" I ask.

            His back is turned but I can tell he's rolling his eyes at me again. "Because you almost killed yourself in a blizzard," he states matter-of-factly.

            "Yeah, but why were you the one that came to get me?" I say. "You should've been the last one." Then I think about it. "Correction: My father would be the last one."

            He's silent for so long I think he's ignoring me, but his answer comes right when I'm about to repeat my question, though jilted it is.

            "I didn't really think your mother or brother were really in the best, uh, condition to go out into a storm to look for you," he says, back still turned as he rummages through my clothes, though I know he found an outfit a while ago.

            "Okay..." I accept the answer, suspicious though it seems. There's something he's not saying, I just know it, I think.

            When he finally turns around, I can tell Kurt is fighting to keep his expression neutral as his gaze wonders down to my exposed dick.

            "See anything you like?" I say with a wink, suddenly in a playful mood.

            He forces his eyes back up to mine and swallows audibly. "Eh," he says, "I've seen better." Are his pupils dilating? "I'm gonna - um, I'm feeling sort of gross after being in the dirty snow thanks to you, so I'm gonna jump in the shower and do an emergency moisturizing routine." He quickly grabs a few articles of clothing after tossing me mine, then hurries into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

            Was he actually worried about me out there? I think, shocked. And did I actually just turn him on? Disturbingly, that thought seems to turn me on, my dick twitching slightly.

            I shake my head to try and rid myself of those thoughts as I pull my clothes on haphazardly and say aloud, "Fuck, I need a drink..."