"What on earth are you talking about, Rachel?"

Kurt clasped his tongue between his lips as he struggled to focus on fixing the hem of the yellow sundress that he wanted Sunny to wear at church the next day. Though Brittany claimed it was simply the regular wear and tear of daily life, Kurt had a feeling it had happened during one of their impromptu dance sessions earlier that week. He didn't fuss, though. If Brittany was up to a dance session, he wasn't going to do anything to disabuse her of the notion.

"Maybe Quinn was right about that dance party idea," he muttered, knotting the thread as he finished the last stitch, and he held the dress up for assessment. "That look good to you?"

"Kurt, are you even listening to me?" she scowled and he sighed.

"Look who I'm talking to. A girl who used to wear sweaters with animals on them all the time. Never mind, I'll ask Quinn when she gets here. Which reminds me, will she be staying for dinner again? Or--"

"Kurt."

He sighed again and set the dress aside before he turned to face Rachel where she sat on his bed. He had invaded the bedroom early, intent on doing a little sewing and mending, and he had long-since learned that Brittany couldn't be trusted with his sewing kit. After the sixth pricked finger, he had banned her from any needlework and stashed his supplies away in his closet. Rachel had only fussed a little when he woke her --it was almost ten when he had knocked on the door-- and she was now perched on the edge of the bed, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and practically drowning in what he was certain was Finn's shirt, unless Rachel had suddenly become interested in the Ohio State Buckeyes.

"What does it matter to you if I really like Blaine?"

"Well, it doesn't, of course," she said primly, smoothing out the hem of the shirt. A small smile crossed her lips as she went on, "But you seemed pretty interested in how Blaine wasn't singing on Thursday--"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"And instead of your annual Black Friday celebration, you spent almost all day yesterday with him. You even took him to see The Nutcracker with the girls."

"That's just--"

"And he's coming over for dinner again tonight, isn't he?"

"First of all," he gritted out, "If I was interested in his singing --and I'm not saying yea or nay to that-- it's only because he told me he knows all the Disney songs, and I was just surprised when I realized he wasn't singing along. Second, I haven't had a real Black Friday 'celebration,' as you call it, in years. For all intents and purposes, Rachel, I am a single father. With two kids, because I'm pretty much the only thing taking care of Brittany since her parents kicked her out. I've been broke for years, and I only went out last year because my dad insisted that I needed a new computer and handed me his credit card before pushing me out the door. And The Nutcracker was to make Brittany feel better after the whole Peter/Eddie thing, which worked fabulously, I might add. Blaine just tagged along because Brittany asked him to, not me. And third, Blaine is alone on a holiday weekend. Did you think I would just let him wallow in solitude when I knew that? For God's sake, I'm not that cruel."

Rachel's eyes were wide as she stared at him, and she had paled under the force of his tirade.

"Kurt. I'm sorry, I--"

"And I won't be here anyway, Rachel, you know that. I'm working at the coffee shop tonight. The only way I'll actually see Blaine myself tonight is if he stays late and is here when I get back." He frowned a little at the thought, but shook his head. It really didn't matter if he saw the younger man or not. They were just friends, after all. "And before you ask, he's coming over when I'm not here because Brittany has an extra cheer practice tonight, and I wanted you and Quinn to have some time to yourselves tonight, whether you decide to stay in or go out, so he's going to watch Sunny."

She looked a little nonplussed at that, and then a small smile crossed her lips, and she blushed.

"That was very nice of you."

"You're welcome."

"Though we're not really at a dating stage, you know. I mean, I haven't even kissed her yet."

He frowned as he looked at her and cocked his head to the side in contemplation.

"Now that is surprising. Why not? I mean, I'm still a little weirded out at this whole thing, but even I can see that you two are pretty much perfect for each other. So what's stopping you from making a move?"

"It was a joint decision," she said primly. "Pushing aside from the bizarreness of our meeting, neither of us has ever even thought about a girl, let alone kissed one. Besides it's been a week and a half. There's no need to rush things, and I really think that--"

"Wait, wait, wait," he cut her off, his frown growing. "What do you mean you've never kissed a girl? You were Maureen, for God's sake. I realize that RENT is perhaps a little risqu� sometimes, but you were performing in New York. Nothing is so sacred there that you can't do everything in that show."

"I know," she shrugged, "but the girl that was cast as Joanne was super uptight and religious, and said she wasn't going to kiss me except in performance."

"What a bitch," he dead-panned, and Rachel laughed.

"Yeah, well, she has a pretty great voice, so the director didn't fuss."

"She's probably a closeted lesbian herself," Kurt mused and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Because every homophobe is secretly gay. You're so smart, Kurt, I don't know why I didn't realize that myself before..."

"You can shut up any time now," he warned her, before asking, "So does the thought of kissing Quinn repulse you, then? I mean, this is your first Sapphic experience."

"No," she shook her head adamantly, the ponytail coming looser, and she met his gaze straight-on. "I'm not repulsed at all. Actually, it's kind of hot thinking about it," she added in a whisper, and he grimaced.

"And now we went too far."

"Sorry," she grinned, clearly not sorry at all, and he shook his head.

"So you're just nervous, then. Well, that's simple."

"Ha," she barked out a laugh. "There is nothing simple about wanting to kiss Lucy."

"I don't mean it's going to be easy," he told her. "I mean that because neither of you have any experience, that it's simple because you can learn it together."

"But what if I move too fast? Or too slow? She'll totally hate me, and stop coming to visit me, and then the dreams are sure to stop, too, and I just don't think that I can--"

"Hold on, Rach," he interrupted, taking the hands that she had started to flail about in her growing rant and holding them in his own as he sat down beside her. "First, breathe. You're going to hyperventilate if you don't calm down." He waited a moment as she did so, and a small smile curved his lips. "And second, you need to stop freaking out. Now obviously, I know the Quinn side better than the Lucy side that you do, so I can't say I know everything going through her head. But one thing I know for sure is that Quinn is nothing if not genuine. You know she was our counselor before she became our friend?" Rachel nodded, rubbing at watery eyes, and he went on. "Well, we never would have stuck with her, or let the relationship grow, if she wasn't one of the most honest and loyal people that I've ever met. She cares about us, Rach, but she's not afraid to tell it like it is, either. And if she didn't care about us, about you, she would flat-out tell you so."

"Yeah," Rachel sniffed. "I know. She even told me yesterday that though she loved the style of my shirt, she absolutely hated the color."

"Well, not many people can pull off 'Hulk-green' aside from the man himself," he mused, and she laughed, the sound a bit watery, but genuine, at least. "Though I have to say, and God help me for going too far myself, but it seemed to me that she was looking less at the shirt and more at the way it fit you," he added, and she blushed at the notion.

"Don't be ridiculous, Kurt," she retorted, but she was grinning, and he smiled in return before asking, "So, you're worried about the physical side of things. Have you talked to her about this?"

"Come on, Kurt," she rolled her eyes. "Lucy and I talk about everything. We've talked about our first loves, what we wanted to be when we were kids, what we think of the economy, how we voted last election, the pros and cons of turkey versus tofu--"

"Have you talked to her about this, though?"

Rachel went quiet and Kurt sighed.

"I thought not."

"It's not that we haven't...I mean, when we found each other last week, everything was just so overwhelming, and surprising, and we decided that until we figured things out, we'd settle for just holding hands, taking things slow."

"Except, strange as this whole thing is, you've known her since you were a child, Rachel, and I can only assume she's known you just as long. You've already ascertained that you're soulmates, so what's holding you back? What are you really scared of?"

Rachel extricated her hands from his grasp and stood slowly. Kurt watched as she paced the length of the room a few times, and smiled. She had changed so much, from the whiny, know-it-all diva she was at the beginning of high school to the serious, still-a-diva, mature young woman she was now. She didn't jump into things without thought like she used to, and though she still had meltdowns, they were over more serious things than who got to sing a solo in glee club that week. He might even go so far as to say that she was finally an adult.

"What if I'm a bad kisser?"

Or maybe that was going too far, he thought and sighed.

"Rachel, are you really freaking out over the quality of your kisses?"

"Well, I--"

"Has Finn ever complained about your kissing ability?" he asked, and she frowned.

"Well, no, but--"

"What about when you were dating Jesse St. James? Did he complain?"

"Well, he did give me notes, but that was more--"

"And that little fling you had with that Brody kid freshman year? What about him?"

"Oh, god, don't even mention him."

"Just think about it, Rachel," he insisted. "Three admittedly hot guys, and none of them said you were a bad kisser."

"But Lucy's a girl."

"And you think you kiss a girl any different? You think that I would kiss a boy any different than I kissed Brittany?"

"Oh, like you've ever actually kissed a boy," she retorted, and he flushed and glared at her.

"Well, if you're going to be mean, I think I'll just take my leave," he snapped, standing and heading for the door, only pausing to grab up the sundress from where he had set it aside.

"Kurt," Rachel began, but he shook his head as he reached the hallway.

"No. I'm not going to listen to you whine and moan and then insult me when I try to give you some advice. That's a little too close to sophomore year for comfort," he bit out and stalked down the hallway to the living area where Brittany and Sunny were playing what he thought might be poker on the floor.

"Britt, you're not teaching her to gamble, are you?" he asked, eyes narrowed as he knelt beside them.

"Of course not, Kurt," the blonde shook her head. "I'm teaching her how to count cards."

He blinked at her, not quite certain if she were serious or not --Brittany might not always makes sense, but she had a pretty wicked set of skills in her backpocket, which included but was not limited to speaking fluent Russian, being able to make homemade vanilla ice cream, and having a strange knowledge of cats and anything that might relate to them. And, possibly, how to count cards.

"Well." He frowned, wondering how he might handle this, and said, "Maybe you should teach her Go Fish instead? I mean, she's a bit young for anything else."

"But Daddy, I like this game," Sunny pouted, and Brittany nodded up at him, a matching pout on her face, and he thought, Oh god, they're teaming up on me.

It was bad enough when Brittany pulled a face; he had been a sucker for her tears from day one, no matter the sometimes disastrous consequences that led to. But to have those same beautiful blue eyes staring up at him from their daughter's face? He couldn't win.

He had to try, though, so he began again, "How about--" only to be interrupted by Rachel's, "Kurt, wait up."

He couldn't help the scowl that crossed his face, and decided there were worse things than a daughter who might potentially end up on the FBI's most-wanted list someday. He stood from where he was kneeling and folded the dress, placing it neatly on the coffee table.

"Britt, I'm going to go out for a walk before my shift, okay? You think you can handle lunch?"

"Peanut butter and jelly?" she asked, wide-eyed, and he laughed and nodded.

"Sounds good to me. Oh, and I bought some bananas, too, so maybe..."

"Peanut butter, jelly and banana sandwiches!" she squealed, and Sunny stood up and started jumping up and down.

"Yay, yay, yay, yay, yay!" she cried and Kurt grinned as he knelt down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Only the best for you, baby," he whispered, and she grinned up at him in return.

"Kurt, please."

His grin shifted and he started toward the door.

"I might just go straight to work, Brittany, but Blaine will be here at three to help out, and I left instructions for dinner on the fridge, and you have all my numbers in case something happens, okay?"

He glanced back at Brittany as he finished and noted her looking from him to Rachel and back again, but she didn't say anything about the obvious tension between them and only smiled.

"Okay, Kurt. Have a good day. I love you."

He somehow found a smile, and his eyes softened as he said, "Love you, too, hon."

He grabbed a jacket then, and walked out the door, almost missing Rachel's, "Kurt, I'm sorry!"