They left Colbie at the Hummel-Hudson household that night.

Carole was insistent that they had the night off from their constant parental duties, and the little girl didn’t want to leave. Kurt knew it would be harder to prise her away the next morning, but didn’t bother arguing the point further; it had been a long day and all he wanted was his bed. The best he could get, though, was a grimy hotel room that was to be their home for the next few weeks.

Kurt couldn’t deny that it wasn’t heaven to be able to lie in the next morning, not having to deal with getting a grumpy Colbie to nursery or the morning rush-hour of New York. But that didn’t stop him rising before Blaine, spending a few moments to choose his outfit – even though he’d spent a whole day sorting out outfits before they left. He’d do anything to keep him from thinking about that night.

They – well, Kurt – had planned their trip so that he could spend as minimal time in Lima as he could; so they’d flown out two days before, and were only leaving two weeks afterwards because Carole had simply begged them to stay for Christmas. If Kurt had had his way, he would never have returned, not even for this stupid reunion; it was only because Blaine had persuaded him that he’d grudgingly agreed. After all, why would you want to go back to the one place you’d spent so long trying to escape?

‘You going to get Bee-Bee?’ came Blaine’s rough voice from the bed.

Kurt nodded, still thinking about this clothing. ‘Wanna come with?’

‘Give me five minutes.’

Fifteen minutes later (Blaine was excellent at distracting Kurt), they left the hotel and travelled across town to the Hummel-Hudson residence. Snow was still covering the ground, and Kurt was sure he felt it hang in the air as he just let them in; Carole, the ever-loving woman she was, had been eager to make sure Kurt knew that the house was still his, even if he was twenty-eight and had been living in New York for roughly ten years.

‘Hello!’ Kurt called as they stepped inside, tucking his keys back into his pocket.

Noise hit them like a ton of bricks as soon as they entered. Intrigued, they cautiously tugged off their coats and slipped off their shows before venturing further into the house. Kurt had to grab Blaine as he went to enter the kitchen, having single out Colbie’s voice, before he was knocked over by two identical blonde boys as they charged into the kitchen, chasing each other and making airplane noises.

From the kitchen island, Quinn told them firmly, ‘Ethan, Evan, I’ve told you already – no running!’

She didn’t even look up from helping Colbie colour – what Kurt hoped was a piece of paper; from behind, he couldn’t see – to scold them. Not until Colbie sat up and spotted her daddies. As she called for them, Quinn looked up too and her bright eyes locked with Kurt’s. She hadn’t changed; Quinn was still Quinn – female perfection. On the outside. On the inside, Kurt automatically knew she was still as messed up as everyone else. She was just getting better at hiding it.

‘Hello, you two!’ greeted Carole, busy at the stove. ‘Have a good night?’

‘It was uneventful,’ Kurt admitted before smiling at his daughter. ‘Hello. How are we this morning?’

‘Auntie Que helped me draw,’ she declared brightly, grinning.

‘Did she now?’ murmured Kurt, looking up to catch Quinn’s eye again. ‘That was nice of you.’

She shrugged, pulling herself back so she was sat up and not slouched over. ‘The boys were never big colourers, unfortunately.’

‘No, they look more the soccer type,’ agreed Blaine, before wondering around the island to the coffee machine, ‘Alright if I make a drink, Carole?’

‘Of course. Knock yourself out.’

‘Coffee, Kurt?’ he asked, and his partner nodded. ‘Coffee, Quinn?’

‘Oh, no, thanks,’ she replied, standing up and gathering her purse. ‘I’ve work now. Thanks for agreeing to look after the twins, Carole.’

She raised the wooden spoon in her hand, waving the gratitude away.

‘I’ll see you tonight, Kurt, Blaine,’ Quinn said, smiling softly at them as she left, halting at the doorway to bid, ‘Bye, Colbie.’

‘What do you say?’ Kurt asked her, trying to evoke some manners.

‘Thank you for colouring with me, Auntie Que.’

Quinn smiled softly – longingly, almost – at her. ‘It’s okay,’ she said quietly before slipping out of the room like smoke.

Kurt watched her go, thinking that maybe he’d gotten it wrong – maybe Quinn was just as bad as hiding her problems as she was the last time he’d seen her.