Returning to the Hummel-Hudson residence for Thanksgiving was something—rather shockingly—Kurt was looking forward to. He missed his father, Carole, and even Finn terribly despite his assimilation into the city life. Kurt was delighted to return home with endless stories about fixing up the apartment, his classes, and everyday occurrences that he experienced just by simply walking down the streets of Manhattan. Boarding the plane back to Ohio was like greeting an old friend. The only thing nagging on Kurt’s mind, however, was the boy sitting beside him: Blaine.

Blaine had made plans to stay with Kurt’s family for their Thanksgiving break, making this the first holiday gathering at the Hummel-Hudson house that Blaine would be present for. The mere thought of Blaine sitting around the dining room table with the rest of Kurt’s eccentric family sent nerves coursing through his entire body. Memories from last year’s Thanksgiving flashed through Kurt’s mind—Finn had made a dive in the kitchen for the football that Kurt had reluctantly attempted to toss at his stepbrother. Carole, removing the turkey from the oven, unknowingly tripped over her son’s bulky form lying across the kitchen floor and bumped into her husband’s back, resulting in Burt’s face plant directly into the pumpkin pie that Carole had spent hours slaving over.

Maybe this isn’t the best idea, Kurt thought to himself as he apprehensively eyed Blaine sitting beside him, blissfully unaware of the potential terror awaiting him at Kurt’s house. Blaine’s parents, however, were vacationing in the Caribbean for the entire week and Kurt refused to leave Blaine alone for the holidays. Rachel was traveling home to her dads as well, leaving the apartment in New York completely unoccupied.

“I can’t believe your family is taking a vacation,” Kurt had griped on the plane ride home. “What kind of parents abandon their only child for the holidays?”

“Welcome to my life,” Blaine had sighed.

But every bad thought or worry was eliminated as soon as Burt arrived at the airport to pick up the two boys and Kurt rushed into his father’s strong arms. Thanksgiving dinner even went off without a hitch; aside from Finn’s near-disaster where he almost cut his finger with a carving knife and bled right into the cranberry sauce. Kurt was thrilled at how well Blaine fit into his family—and even more thrilled at how an entire dinner had gone by without any embarrassing anecdotes being shared at his expense or any other form of mortification courtesy of his family.

After dinner, Carole began clearing the table and Blaine stood immediately to help. She insisted, however, that Blaine was their guest and it wasn’t necessary for him to help clean up the kitchen. Kurt grabbed Blaine by the arm and led him out to the family room where Finn was lounging on the sofa with a bowl of leftover mashed potatoes. The football game was playing loudly on the television.

“Mind if we join?” Blaine asked as he and Kurt took a seat beside Finn.

The tall jock kept his eyes glued on the TV screen and shoveled a heaping spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. “As long as Kurt doesn’t say anything about the game.”

Kurt looked offended. “Me?”

“Dude, you always interrupt the best parts by talking about how grass stains are impossible to get out of cotton or whatever,” Finn accused with his cheeks bulging with food.

Kurt scoffed and glanced at Blaine who threw an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Well, they are.”

Blaine chuckled at Kurt’s sincere expression and couldn’t keep himself from pressing a chaste kiss against his forehead while Finn wasn’t looking. The dark haired boy turned back to Finn. “So how’s Ohio State?”

“It’s pretty cool, I guess,” Finn answered casually, shrugging his heavy shoulders. “Football practice is killing me, though…and on top of homework and everything. Puck and I keep trying to find time to study and stuff—”

Kurt shook his head disapprovingly. “How Noah Puckerman ever got into college with his permanent record, I’ll never know…”

Finn finally peeled his eyes away from the game, ignoring Kurt’s jab at his best friend. He looked downward into his bowl of mashed potatoes almost sheepishly. “How’s New York? And, um…Rachel. How is she, uh, doing?”

Kurt grinned shrewdly at Blaine. “She’s fine.”

“Fine?” Finn wondered, blushing profusely. “Like…what does that mean?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Kurt asked with mock-surprise. He knew quite well that Rachel and Finn hadn’t spoken since the summer. “She’s going to be on Broadway.”

Finn spewed out a mouthful of potatoes in shock, sending chunks of white mush flying across the living room carpet. He clutched his heart and coughed, attempting to dislodge the remaining pieces of potato from his throat. Blaine patted him on the back supportively while Kurt’s nose scrunched up in disdain at the mess that Finn had just made.

“You are completely repulsive,” Kurt stated bluntly.

“It’s not really guaranteed,” Blaine explained carefully to Finn in an attempt to comfort the choking boy. “She met with an agent and he invited her to audition—that’s all.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me…” Finn muttered once the choking subsided. His voice was raw and strangled.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten already, Rachel has pretty much decided that she never wants to see your face again.”

“I guess she really is chasing her dreams,” Finn spoke low, mostly to himself. Blaine cast a sympathetic look at Kurt as Finn buried his face in his palms.

Kurt was thankful that his dad chose that moment to enter the family room, giving the group a reason to change the subject. Burt held a root beer in his hands as he plopped himself down in his favorite recliner beside the sofa, sighing in contentment. Kurt eyed his father critically.

“Dad,” He warned, staring down the bottle in his father’s hand. “That’s all sugar.”

Burt waved it off. “Hey, go easy on me—one every now and then won’t kill me.”

Kurt winced at his father’s poor choice of words. It was barely two years ago when Burt suffered from a heart attack and ended up in a coma for days. Ever since, Kurt had taken it upon himself to regulate his father’s eating habits even though Burt was reluctant to obey his son’s harsh food restrictions. Burt’s health seemed to be progressing, but Kurt was not about to stand idly by, waiting for his father to have another life threatening incident.

“So, boys,” Burt took a swig of his drink as he addressed Kurt and Blaine. “How’s the big city treating you?”

“It’s fantastic,” Kurt answered immediately, clasping his hands together. “Everything is so exciting and energetic and…fabulous.”

Blaine chuckled amusedly at Kurt’s passion before turning to Burt. “He’s right—there’s such a great energy around Manhattan.”

“And the apartment?” Burt wondered. He was beginning to sound more like a concerned parent than someone casually inquiring about their living conditions. “It’s holding up okay, right?”

Blaine replied politely with a simple, “It’s great” at the same time Kurt morbidly muttered, “It’s a dump.”

Burt’s eyebrows came together.

“It’s a bit…sparse right now,” Blaine elaborated, choosing his words carefully under Burt’s intimidating glare. “We haven’t had much time to furnish it with work and school—“

“School’s keeping you two busy, huh?” Burt cut in, leaning forward in his seat. “Working hard, I hope. Keeping your grades up?”

“Yes, sir,” Blaine responded with a charismatic smile. “It’s very challenging, but the work is rewarding.”

Burt nodded firmly and leaned back into the recliner again, seemingly more at ease. “Pre-med, right? Now there’s a major that’ll be sure to kick your ass—no room for slacking off, that’s for sure. Kurt’s got himself all worked up about that magazine internship…”

“Vogue, dad,” Kurt reminded him bitterly. “And it won’t affect my schoolwork—I might not even get it.”

“Yeah, Vogue or whatever,” Burt took another long swig of root beer while Kurt crossed his arms across his chest. Finn had appeared to return his attention back to the football game, but the distant look on his face told Kurt that his stepbrother had other things plaguing his mind. Burt looked at Blaine pointedly. “You got guts, kid. Pre-med’s no walk in the park.”

“Thank you, sir,” Blaine nodded once and flashed another smile. This time, however, Kurt could detect the strain behind it. The grin barely reached his eyes.

Burt smirked. “You gonna be a doctor, Blaine?”

“Oh, um…well, I haven’t really—“ It was then that Kurt knew something was wrong. Well-spoken Blaine Anderson was hardly ever at a loss for words even in the most difficult of situations. Blaine had had many conversations with Kurt’s dad before and none of them had ever left him struggling for the right thing to say. Blaine broke eye contact, rubbed the back of his head, and chuckled nervously. “I guess so—I mean, it’s possible. That’s what my parents are hoping.”

Kurt would have begun interrogating his boyfriend about the cause of his strangeness if it weren’t for his cell phone releasing a soft ding at that moment. The slender brunette looked down at the screen upon receiving the text message and promptly released a high-pitched squeal that caused Finn to jump three feet in the air. Three pairs of concerned eyes landed on Kurt.

“Dude, I think you can communicate with dogs with that noise,” The jock commented. Kurt covered his mouth with his hand and didn’t even bother to respond to his stepbrother. Blinking unbelievably, Kurt reread the text message to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming.

“Kurt, are you okay?” Blaine asked, gently touching his boyfriend’s arm. Kurt looked up at his father, Blaine, and Finn in turn, still appearing as if he just got smacked in the face.

“I…I got the internship,” Kurt breathed, blank-faced. The words that just escaped his mouth slowly began to register in his mind. His face lifted and he repeated the words with fuller elation. “Oh, my God—I got the internship!”

Blaine leapt up at the same time as Kurt and the two boys met in a tight embrace, laughing incredulously. “Kurt! That’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“I can’t believe it!” Kurt exclaimed as he parted from Blaine and began jumping in place, clapping his hands together giddily. He turned to his father who stood up as well. “I just—I can’t believe it!”

Burt smiled at his son and opened his arms. Kurt ran into them at full speed, squeezing his father’s waist tightly. “Good job, kiddo. I’m proud of you.”

“Wait…you got the what?” Finn wondered absently, pulling his eyebrows together.

“Oh, keep up, would you?” Kurt snapped at him, breaking the embrace with his father to glare menacingly at his helplessly slow stepbrother. “The Vogue internship, Finn! Only the single most renowned fashion magazine in the world!”

Finn blinked and nodded slowly. “Oh…that sounds pretty cool.”

Kurt rubbed his temples agitatedly and began counting to ten inside his head. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that…”

“You should tell Carole,” Blaine suggested ardently, pulling Kurt in the direction of the kitchen to avoid a possible outburst at Finn. “She’d love to hear the news.”

The exuberant sparkle returned to Kurt’s eyes as if a switch had been flipped on inside of him. He nodded zealously and skipped into the kitchen. “Carole! You won’t believe what just happened!”

The Hummel-Hudson family had long decided to retire for the evening. Burt had insisted that Blaine sleep in the guest bedroom after denying his son’s request to have a wholesome sleepover in his room—Kurt made certain to emphasize the ‘wholesome’ part, but to no avail. He believed it would be easier to simply explain to his father that he and Blaine shared a bed back in New York, but decided to keep that minor detail a secret for now. After all, Kurt didn’t want to be the cause of his father’s next heart attack. Blaine, being nothing less than well-mannered, graciously accepted the scarcely-used guest room, stating that he was more than grateful to be staying with them at all. Kurt had started pouting and stormed into his bedroom while Burt set up the guest bed.

His father’s strict rules, however, did not stop Kurt from slipping out of his room around midnight. He tiptoed quietly past his parents’ room, then Finn’s, and, finally, approached the guest room. He carefully pushed open the door to reveal a lump lying on the bed under the comforter. The lump slowly rose and fell as soft breaths escaped from under the sheets. Kurt grinned to himself and slowly made his way toward the bed, climbing into the unoccupied side.

“Blaine?” Kurt whispered delicately. “Are you awake?”

A mass of dark curls poked its way out from under the covers. After releasing a low, unintelligible grumble, Blaine’s face appeared against the pillow. His eyelids were drooping so low that it seemed like they were still shut and his loose lips were slightly pulled upward in a sleep-slack smile. “I’mmawake.”

“I guess I’m kind of used to sleeping next to you now,” Kurt admitted guiltily, thankful that Blaine couldn’t see him blush in the dark. “It feels strange being alone.”

“Then stay with me,” Blaine offered plainly, still sounding a bit muffled and incomprehensible. He moved his face a bit forward as if he were searching for something in the darkness and Kurt had a good idea of what that might be. The slender brunette moved his face forward as well and met Blaine’s lips in a messy, sleep-plagued kiss. The dark haired boy sighed happily when they were finished and snaked his arms around Kurt’s waist, pulling him ever-so closer to his warm body. “Yeah, stay right here…”

Kurt giggled at his boyfriend’s lovable behavior. Seeing composed and collected Blaine reduced to a mumbling, sleepy mess was always a treat. Kurt smiled serenely. “I’m so happy right now.”

“Me, too,” Blaine agreed, cuddling his face into Kurt’s neck.

“With everything, you know?” Kurt continued. He loved the way Blaine’s breath felt on his skin. “With school, New York, the internship…”

“But not the apartment,” Blaine reminded him offhandedly. “You hate the apartment.”

“Even the apartment,” Kurt insisted, struggling to maintain an even voice while Blaine placed the softest of kisses along his neck. “Even the apartment is bearable right now.”

“I’m really proud of you, Kurt,” Blaine whispered against his neck suddenly. He was already beginning to sound more like himself instead of an inarticulate mess. “You’re finally getting all the good things you deserve.”

Kurt smirked sardonically. “The universe would be a real jerk if I wasn’t somehow rewarded—considering some of the tribulations I’ve had to suffer in my life.”

“You’ve been dreaming about this internship for so long,” Blaine added. His hazel eyes cut through Kurt’s blue irises in the darkness. “And now you’ve earned it. You knew what you wanted and you just went for it…I admire that about you—among other things.”

A single eyebrow rose on Kurt’s face as he grinned curiously at his boyfriend. “Oh, is that so? Like what exactly, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Blaine’s expression scrunched up and he bit his bottom lip carefully, pretending to be in deep contemplation. His eyes began to light up again as his mock-realization dawned on him. “You’re the only person I know who can make an ascot look relatively fashionable in the 21st century.”

“This is true,” Kurt nodded in agreement and then allowed a playful smile to form on his lips as he turned to lie on his side, meeting the gaze of Blaine. “What else?”

“You’re able to translate the entirety of 'My Fair Lady' into French and have done so on multiple occasions,”

“Not my finest hour,” Kurt muttered in remembrance. Blaine chuckled drowsily. “But thank you just the same.”

Blaine had returned to closing his eyes, but still managed to speak through his limp mouth. Kurt was certain that Blaine only had a few more moment of consciousness left.

“You know what I admire about you?” Kurt asked, surprisingly coy. Blaine shook his head slowly against the pillow. “You’re just as dedicated to your hair care regime as I am—only you choose to opt hairspray for a criminal amount of gel to tame these unruly curls.”

Kurt giggled and removed a hand from under the covers, running it through Blaine’s thick mane of dark hair. The older boy pouted in feigned protest. “The ingredients are all natural—I checked.”

Grinning, Kurt moved closer to Blaine. The dark haired boy responded by draping his arms over Kurt’s waist again. The two boys lay together for a while, marveling at the silence that overtook them. Although they had both become accustomed to falling asleep with New York’s constant noise blaring in the background, the silence of Ohio was certainly an aspect they garnered with more respect. Kurt had nearly drifted into sleep himself when he forced his heavy eyelids open again, revealing Blaine’s peaceful, slumbering face only inches away from his own.

“I should go,” Kurt murmured unwillingly. “My dad will murder me if he wakes up and I’m not in my own room.”

Blaine’s eyebrows came together—clearly he was still conscious enough to communicate. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“Not unless you want to drag my cold, useless corpse back to New York with you,” Kurt teased.

“I’ll pass,” Blaine decided definitively. Another blush broke across Kurt’s face as his boyfriend inched closer, allowing his lips to gently touch the tip of his slightly upturned nose. “You’re much more adorable when you have a pulse.”