Thanksgiving was not only a time for sitting around the table and listing all the things you were grateful for. It wasn't just about the turkey and cranberry sauce, or the football game that played in the afternoon. It wasn't the free reign to finally play all the Christmas music you wanted to, or even about all the shopping that happened over the weekend. No, for Kurt Hummel, Thanksgiving was about spending time with his girls without having to worry about anything else. It was being able to watch Sunny as she danced around the living room and not wonder what time it was. It was having a conversation with Brittany and not trying to pinpoint the important parts and forgetting the rest.

When Kurt was still a bright-eyed teenager, the thought of having his own family had been distant. Of course, he had wanted the husband, the two-point-five kids, and a cat--he was adamant that they were more loyal than dogs, and better cuddlers, too, if only in that they didn't try to curl around you when you were busy or in a rush--but he had been more into the romance side of things. Happily Ever After was a given, but it was the fairy tale preceding that ending that he was after.

Then Sunny happened, and while Kurt still yearned for his own fairy tale, as time went on, he was more and more certain that he wouldn't change the way things had panned out for the world. Seeing his daughter grow, helping Brittany unleash her intellect, both gave him a thrill nothing else ever had. Finn once asked if it had hurt, giving up on his dreams of New York and Broadway, and it hadn't taken two seconds for Kurt to reply that he was already living his dream.

Sometimes it was more dream-like than other times.

"Kurt, are you sure it's okay to give a toddler whole milk? When I was a baby--"

"You were allergic, Rachel, I know, you've told me several times," Kurt sighed and set the golden-brown turkey on the table. "Sunny is not. And no, she is not turning vegan at her age. You can convert her later."

He couldn't help but laugh at the pout on her face, before frowning down at the table. There was more food on it than there had been all semester, and he wasn't completely sure it wouldn't break under the weight, no matter how sturdy it had seemed up until now. Of course, he would have bought a smaller turkey, made smaller portions of the sweet potatoes and dressing, but with Rachel there, and by default Quinn, who had dragged along Sam--"Because no one should spend Thanksgiving alone, Kurt, and he hasn't been weird once about Rachel and I."--he'd gone all out, even adding some vegetarian/vegan choices for Rachel. Of course, with the table covered with food and the too many people and not enough chairs, they were relegated to eating in the living room, sitting on cushions Japanese-style around the coffee table, as the Thanksgiving Parade played on the television, but it was cozy and warm, and Kurt wouldn't change a thing.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Kurt?" Quinn asked from beside him, and he shook his head.

"No, I'm fine."

"Kurt's been up since five, I swear," Rachel teased from the floor, flicking her eyes toward him before focusing back on Sunny and the sippy cup she was tossing lightly up and down. Thank God for lids, Kurt thought as she went on, "I woke up to find him in an apron, mixing spices, the perfect housewife."

Kurt looked down at the apron in question and rolled his eyes.

"You're just mad I didn't let you help."

"We could have been eating earlier if you'd let me," she grumbled, and he laughed.

"Yeah. Take-out from the Chinese restaurant because you would have burned the kitchen down. Don't think I've forgotten what you were like in high school home ec."

Quinn laughed at his words, and Kurt grinned over at her while Rachel pouted, and Kurt realized that these two, they were his girls, too.

"I feel like I'm drowning in estrogen," Sam said as he walked over from the sofa. "But damn, it smells good in here."

"That's the smell of genius," Kurt replied loftily, but his smile was genuine as he said, "Thanks, Professor Evans."

"You know you can call me Sam, right, Mister Hummel?"

"As soon as you call me Kurt," he answered, and they both grinned at each other. It was crowded, true, but this was what holidays were supposed to be like. "I think this is about everything. Has anyone seen Brittany?"

For the first time he noticed that the other blonde--and god, he'd already been outnumbered between Britt and Sunny, but now with Sam and Quinn, he was quickly becoming a minority--wasn't in the living room, which was odd, considering how she'd been so excited to watch the 'floating cartoons' in the parade.

"I think she's in her room," Rachel began. "I saw her walking that direction a few minutes ago."

"Oh. Well, I'll get Brittany, if you guys wouldn't mind getting the dishes out? Rachel, you can show them where things are?"

"Of course," she nodded and stood, holding out a hand to Sunny. "You want to help your Aunt Rachel? Maybe you can get the silverware?"

"Okay!" the toddler replied, grinning, and Kurt grinned himself at the sight before walking through the small crowd and down the hall to the bedroom he was still sleeping in because Rachel had told him she and Quinn were 'taking things slow.'

To be honest, it still took an effort to wrap his head around the fact that Quinn was Lucy, even with three days worth of it being right in front of him. Any time that Quinn wasn't teaching or counseling, he could find her sitting on the sofa with Rachel, just talking, perfectly innocent, though their hands were never separated, and the night before when she left Quinn had pressed a kiss to Rachel's forehead that had left the younger girl blushing for nearly an hour afterwards. If it didn't feel so awkward, Kurt would be teasing her all the time, but as it was, he wanted to blush himself, and he felt like he was in grade school when the kids in his class had first started to pair off. He didn't know what to say, and there were remnants of that feeling he'd gotten when he realized he wasn't like the other boys who were all girl crazy.

It was ridiculous, of course, that he felt this way, and he'd said as much when he talked to Brittany about it before bed, but she had smiled, kissed his cheek, and told him, her words curiously logical despite the context, that "Sometimes a unicorn doesn't learn magic like other unicorns, Kurt, because he gets to learn different things that make him even more magical in the end."

The logic he had taken from her words was that it was okay to feel weird about things, because he just wasn't on the same level as Rachel and Quinn when it came to their relationship, and he would get there in his own time.

A small smile curved his lips and he knocked at the closed door.

"Britt? It's time to eat, hon." He pushed the door open and then paused in surprise. Brittany was standing on tip-toe on her desk chair, hanging Christmas lights around the edge of the ceiling. He could see the intense concentration upon her face, and instead of calling out to her, walked over slowly, and put his hand on the back of the chair. "Brittany? What are you doing?"

She grinned wide as she eased back from the wall and turned to face him.

"Kurt. I'm making it glow in here."

Kurt looked at the strands haphazardly strung, and had to admit he was a little impressed that she had gotten so much up in the short time she had been missing.

"I see. And what brought this on?"

"There was a floating cartoon from A Charlie Brown Christmas? And they had a tree, and it glowed Kurt, like super bright, even though the sun is shining and everything!"

She practically glowed herself as she told him about it, and he couldn't help but grin as he took her hand and led her down to the floor.

"That sounds amazing, hon. And I wish I could have seen it. But it's time to eat; I have supper on the table and everything."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Kurt, I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"No worries, Britt. Though I saw Sam eyeing the sweet potatoes, and I think you might have competition for those."

She gasped, eyes wide, and was out the door almost instantly. Kurt laughed as he followed her out, and grinned as he saw Sunny standing on a chair having a spoon war--and thank God they were smart enough not to give her a knife--with Sam.

"Alright, guys, I think we're all here. Anyone want to say the blessing?"

He reached out a hand to Sunny, who jumped down immediately and latched on tight, and his heart warmed as he turned to face the rest of them.

"I'll do it," Rachel offered, sounding almost shy, and he wondered at the possibility that she might be so in the face of having the spotlight, and decided it must be Quinn's presence. He smiled at her encouragingly and she cleared her throat and began, her tone resonant, "Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu Melekh ha'olam, she'hakol nih'ye bidvaro--"

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Kurt shook his head while the blonde trio stared at Rachel in a mixture of awe and confusion. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I'm sure whatever you're saying is perfectly relevant, but none of us speak Hebrew."

She flushed, the look on her face telling she had forgotten that little fact, and lifted her hands to cover her face, groaning in embarrassment.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry--"

"No, no," Quinn shushed her, and put her arm around her waist, pulling her in close. If anything, the motion only made Rachel blush further, but at least she stopped her babbling. "It's alright, baby. Don't sweat it."

Kurt couldn't help the double-take at the endearment, but any awkwardness was pushed past when Sam spoke up.

"I'll give the blessing a try, if you don't mind?" They all nodded, and he smiled, sending a wink to Rachel as he added, "It's not quite that traditional, but here goes." He paused and took a breath before saying, "God, we thank you for this meal, and for the time we have together. Please continue to bless us, and protect those who aren't with us today. In your name, Amen."

"Amen," the others chorused, and Kurt let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, there's the hard part over with," he laughed.

Quinn rolled her eyes as she started passing out plates.

"No," she shook her head. "The hard part will be the clean-up afterwards. I don't know if you remembered, but Sam, here, is a very messy eater."

"I resent that," Sam replied in turn, but he was grinning as he loaded up his own plate.

"That reminds me," Kurt frowned and turned back to the cupboards. "I have cloth napkins somewhere in here."

"I'll handle it, Kurt," Rachel smiled at him and pulled a lock of Sunny's hair as she passed, causing the toddler to giggle and burrow her face into Kurt's side. "Why don't you get our little princess situated?"

"Of course," he nodded, and led the three-year-old over to the coffee table. "Where do you want to sit, baby?"

"Next to you!" she said immediately and he grinned.

"Well, I'll be here at the end," he gestured to a velvet green pillow at the 'head' of the table, and led her to the plush pink one kitty-corner to it. "So you can sit here, and I'll get you a plate, okay, baby?"

"Thank you, Daddy," she grinned up at him and tugged at his shirt until he was bent low enough that she could reach up and brush a kiss to his cheek. "You're my favorite."

"I thought I was your favorite, Sunny."

They both looked up to see Brittany pouting prettily, and Kurt smothered his smile as Sunny explained calmly, "You're my other favorite, Mommy. You and Daddy both."

"Oh. That's good, then. Can I sit next to you then?"

"Of course, Mommy," she replied, sounding almost magnanimous as she added, "Have a seat."

"Glad we got that figured out," Kurt mumbled, before saying again, "I'll get you a plate, okay, baby?"

She waved him off as she shuffled close to where the tall blonde was sitting beside her, and he wondered if he could trust the two girls to not make a mess. He could already see Brittany offering the toddler a bite from her own plate and having the spoonful --or forkful, or even handful, though he shuddered at the last thought-- and having the contents of said spoon falling short to the ground. Sighing, he turned back to the table full of food and then laughed.

Sam and Brittany had made a pretty big dent in the sweet potatoes, he saw, and half the dressing was gone as well.

"Leave some for the rest of us, why don't you," he teased as Sam walked by, but the blonde only grinned in reply, and Kurt began making a plate with toddler-size portions for Sunny.

He had set the plate before the little girl, leaving her to poke at the cranberry jelly in fascination and was just starting to fill up his own plate when he felt a vibration in his pocket. He set down the serving spoon for the mashed potatoes --and what was he thinking, having two kinds of potatoes on the table? Was he trying to get fat or something?-- and made sure his plate was balanced carefully in his right hand before fishing out his phone with his left.

A wide grin crossed his face as he saw it was from Blaine. The message itself was simple, just Happy Thanksgiving! but Kurt felt a warmth welling up inside at the fact that the other boy was thinking of him.

"That from your boyfriend?"

His hand tensed around the phone and he scowled up at Quinn, who was smirking at him from across the table as she dished up her own plate. He was surprised to see a few of the vegan choices included; he knew for a fact that turkey was her favorite meat, and that she couldn't go a day without something dairy. Had Rachel already converted her? But no, there was a large slab of white meat on her plate as well, so perhaps she was just broadening her horizons.

"I don't think I've seen you that happy over a text like, ever."

Kurt sighed and shook his head.

"He's not my boyfriend, Q, you know that."

"So it was from Blaine," she grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, not that it's any of your business. He just said 'happy Thanksgiving,' is all."

"And are you gonna say it back?"

"Of course I--"

"Hey, is that from Blaine?" Rachel interrupted, looking over Quinn's shoulder at the phone in his hand, and he gritted his teeth a moment.

They're not trying to gang up on you, he told himself. They're just naturally obnoxious.

"And knowing that helps so much," he muttered, though he was starting to smile before he answered, "Yes, Rachel, it's from Blaine. He wished us a happy Thanksgiving."

"All of us, or just you?" she asked pointedly and he blushed at the insinuation.

"I have no idea. It was just a generic greeting, so I'm sure he--"

"Why don't you send him a picture of our Thanksgiving dinner?" she suggested. "Make him jealous of what he doesn't have."

"I'm sure he's having a very nice dinner of his own, Rachel. I don't know if you noticed his clothes on Saturday, but someone who wears a ninety dollar Marc Jacobs sweater on a casual visit probably gets his turkey dinner flown in from Maine, with five types of dinner forks to choose from."

"Why, Kurt Hummel, I do believe you're stereotyping," Rachel gasped, and he flushed, part in exasperation, part in guilt. She was right, of course. Just because the man was obviously wealthy didn't mean a thing. For all he knew, Blaine's family could have a nice, cozy sit-down prepared, like Kurt had had back in Ohio with his dad, stepmom and Finn.

"Fine. The man has stale turkey and eats with plastic forks." Quinn laughed as he went on, "If things are so bad, why should I tempt him with my own genius creation?"

"God, and I thought I was a drama queen," Rachel teased before saying gently, "You don't have to send him anything, Kurt. I just think it would be a cute, quirky addition to the generic 'Thanks, you, too,' reply."

Kurt groaned, grumbling something along the lines of "Damn you, Rachel, and your weird holiday logic," before pressing the photo reply button on his phone and snapping a picture of the table.

Happy Thanksgiving to you, too! he typed out. Eat, drink, and be merry! ;)

He clicked send and stuffed the phone back in his pocket so he could finish filling his plate.

"There," he said aloud. "Happy, now?"

"Ecstatic," Rachel preened before tugging Quinn away to the coffee table, and he laughed a little at the dynamic the two had. Crazy as it all seemed, he was starting to believe that they were the real deal. Of course, the honeymoon stage wouldn't last forever, but even during that stage with Finn, Kurt couldn't remember seeing her that elated and full of joy. God, I hope this works out, he thought.

His musings were interrupted by Sunny's querying voice.

"Daddy, are you coming to sit down? Uncle Sam's trying to steal my sweet 'tatoes."

"Why, I never!"

"Good grief," Kurt muttered, but he was grinning as he turned away from the table and walked into the living area. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he said. "And Sam, seriously? Back off. She's three."

He lost Sam's protest in the sound of Brittany's defense of Sunny, and Kurt's grin widened as he sat down and surveyed his crazy, beautiful, mixed-up family.