.

"Well, isn't this cozy?"

Kurt blinked awake, frowning at the intrusion. He was warm and cozy and had been having a lovely dream about sunshine and tea parties and a dreamy-eyed boy with curly hair...

He jolted upright, feeling only the faintest hint of guilt as the sleeping boy beside him toppled to the side of the couch, mumbling in his sleep as he did so. What had he done?

"You boys have fun last night?"

Kurt snapped his gaze behind him to see Rachel smirking as Quinn helped her out of her jacket. Despite her bright-eyed appearance, he could see that she was tired, and he flicked his gaze down to his watch, and his eyes widened in surprise. Was it really seven-thirty in the morning?

"I could ask the same of you two," he muttered as he eased back from Blaine, careful not to upset his position anymore, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, god, I did not sleep for long enough."

"Oh, really? But you look like you've got such a comfy pillow. Didn't that help?"

He glared at her as he stood, before looking down at the curly-haired boy snoozing on his couch. Blaine was beautiful, he had to admit. In this vulnerable state, Kurt had to make a conscious effort not to reach out and trace his hand along the stubble that was growing on his cheeks. He shook off the notion, and took stock of their positions, and felt a bit of relief at their fully-dressed states. Whatever he had done, it wasn't as stupid as his sleep-addled brain had first feared. Still, the burning question remained: Why had they fallen asleep there, anyway? He frowned as he wracked his brain, casting a glance toward the television as he tried to remember if they had been watching a movie, and then went still as his gaze turned downward. He was still wearing his work jeans.

Kurt had been living on a budget since the day Brittany showed up with a positive pregnancy test. He didn't troll malls for new styles, didn't even shop on eBay in search of deals, and he hadn't bought a fashion magazine in years. Of course, that didn't mean that Kurt went out looking like trailer trash. Even if he was shopping at Walmart these days, he certainly didn't look like it. It was amazing the things you could do with cheap fabrics and an old sewing machine. If it wasn't quite haute couture upon his body, he took pride in knowing he was modeling Kurt Hummel originals.

The fact that he was wearing jeans which were made for ease of movement rather than tailored for style was practically unheard of outside his workplace. He always, always changed first thing when he got home. Something must have happened to make him forgo that change, something big, something like--

Something like an unknown homophobe painting the word FAGGOT on his car, he thought, noting the glint of silver paint on his fingers from when he had first run his hand across it last night. He didn't know if the horror he felt was simply a refreshing of the immediate aftermath of the incident or a result of the realization that he had broken down and spilled his problems all over the boy now sleeping in his living room. And not just broken down, he realized, but sobbed until exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep in the boy's arms. He felt faint at the thought and it took him a minute to realize that Rachel was still talking.

"Kurt, are you even listening to me?"

He blinked and looked at her, feeling a headache rising.

"Rachel, I am too tired and too irritated right now to have a conversation with a girl who recently insulted me."

Her jaw dropped and then she whined, "I said I was sorry, Kurt."

The hurt of her words yesterday was minor in comparison to the hurt of last night's incident, but he took the distraction and ran with it.

"That doesn't excuse your blatant lack of tact and--"

"Okay, guys, let's take a moment to breathe," Quinn cut in and Kurt almost jumped, having nearly forgotten her presence. "Not to play mediator--"

"Please don't," Kurt sighed, raising a hand to massage at his aching temples.

"But I think we're all a little exhausted from last night's activities--"

"Quinn!" he hissed, darting a glance at the somehow still blissfully unaware boy behind him, and Quinn chuckled softly.

"Innocent or otherwise," she said, a teasing light in her green eyes. "And it might be best if we got some rest."

Kurt looked at his watch and shook his head, hoping the blush would shake off as well.

"That sounds ideal, Q, but I have to wake the girls in an hour for Sunday school."

"As if that's not plain crazy," Rachel muttered, and Kurt started to retort when Quinn spoke again.

"Well, at least eat something. You can argue better on a full stomach." He stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed before leaning in to press a kiss to Rachel's forehead. "I'm pretty much dead myself, so I'm going to head out, babe, okay?"

Rachel simply nodded, her expression all dazed and sparkly, and Kurt made a mental note to have Quinn spend an excess amount of time with Rachel more often if the dreamy-eyed, blessedly silent creature before him was the result.

"If not sooner, I'll see you and the girls tomorrow, Kurt, okay?"

"Sure," he nodded and gave a short wave as she let herself out, and then turned his gaze back to Rachel.

She was still staring at the spot Quinn had been standing, a small smile curving her lips and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stepped to her side.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, you better tell me exactly everything that went on between the two of you last night."

She jumped and then laughed and brushed him aside as she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured, frowning at the gallon of whole milk and Kurt sighed and leaned against the counter beside her.

"Sure you don't. You're all googly-eyed at just the slightest touch from your soul mate and you want me to believe that nothing happened between the two of you?" She scowled up at him, but she was blushing, and he smirked. "So? Tell."

"There's really not much to tell," she began airily and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Rachel."

"Kurt."

"You were together all night, Rachel. And it's obvious you didn't get any sleep, I mean I love you, Rach, but you kind of look like death warmed over, happy glow notwithstanding," he added as her eyes narrowed, and she scoffed.

"Please. Like you're one to talk," she said, casting a glance toward Blaine, and though it had been more innocent than not, he couldn't help the blush that overtook him.

"Nothing happened," he retorted. "We were hanging out and just fell asleep on the couch."

"And you woke up in his arms," she added, eyebrows waggling and he sighed.

"I'm pretty sure we were talking about you, Rachel."

"Well, I--"

They both stilled as a low groan issued from the boy on the couch and they turned slowly to see Blaine blinking in the pale light coming through the blinds and stretching as he sat up. He looked at Rachel and Kurt, his eyes hazy, before rubbing a hand across his jaw and yawning, long and loud.

"Good morning," he mumbled, smiling sleepily, and it took all Kurt had not to smile back.

"Good morning," he said shortly, and turned to the fridge, pushing Rachel gently to the side as he took out a carton of eggs. "I'm making breakfast. Do you have anything that you'd like, or won't eat?"

"Well, I would like--"

"Rachel," Kurt cut her off, rolling his eyes. "I was talking to Blaine, not you. And as for you, no details, no breakfast."

The girl's eyes widened almost comically and then she began to pout.

"But Kurt. I'm hungry."

He started to retort when Blaine spoke up.

"I'm perfectly happy to share my breakfast with Rachel, if it's not a problem."

Kurt wanted to glare at the other boy, but he knew it was ridiculous to withhold food for what was really just a petty squabble. And when she batted her eyes at him he couldn't help but roll his own in response and sigh in surrender.

"Fine." He put the eggs back and grabbed the egg substitute before asking, "Pancakes sound good?"

"Sounds good to me," Blaine smiled, while Rachel frowned contemplatively before smiling herself.

"Thank you, Kurt. And that reminds me," she began, walking over to where her bag was set by the door. She riffled through the contents a moment before letting out a cry of victory and holding up a bag of vegan chocolate chips. "Did you know that the Albertson's opens at six in the morning, Kurt? And they have a surprisingly decent selection of vegan options."

"Yes to the first, I never noticed to the second," he answered, taking the bag from her as she held it out to him. "So you stayed out all night and then went shopping this morning?"

"Well, I--"

"Forgive me for being nosy, but am I to assume that the great Rachel Berry didn't come home last night?"

They both turned to see Blaine grinning, a wickedly teasing glint in his eyes and Kurt rolled his eyes while Rachel flushed pink.

"Rachel, were you telling him stories again?" Kurt asked and she turned to him with a scowl.

"It is my duty," she began haughtily, "to inform the fans of how incredible I truly am. Just seeing me on stage doesn't convey the totality of my entity."

"Entity, huh?"

Kurt shot Blaine a look, and Blaine shrugged, still smiling.

"We had a little time before Quinn picked her up yesterday, and she thought we should get to know each other better."

Kurt's eyes narrowed at the thought; though Blaine had been around quite a bit these last few days, Rachel was usually too involved with Quinn or Sunny to really pay him any attention. The idea that she had started up a conversation all on her own didn't sit well with Kurt, and he wondered what her motives were.

"Is that so," he frowned and turned back to the kitchen to pull out a mixing bowl and the rest of the ingredients for the pancakes.

"Of course, Kurt," Rachel replied, apparently oblivious to his suspicion. "After all, if we're going to be seeing a lot of each other, we may as well be friendly, right?"

"Right. Friendly." Kurt frowned down at the ingredients in hand before sighing and throwing them together from memory. It was amazing how little effort it took to change a recipe from delicious to vegan. Of course, he wouldn't accept serving anything that wasn't delicious, so he made do, but the relief he had felt upon discovering that soy and other vegan substitutes were as easy to attain as they were was great. Though Kurt wasn't a stranger to looking up recipes, either online or in the old cookbook that his mother used to use, he took great pride in having all his favorites stored at the front of his mind with no need for books that were falling apart anyway and printed off sheets smeared in cooking grease.

"Do you need any help, Kurt?"

He jumped a little as Rachel crept up behind him, almost dropping the cup of flour in his hand, and sighed.

"Rachel. Please. My kitchen, okay?"

"Fine, fine, I'll back off," she said lightly, and he heard the scraping of a chair across the tile as she sat at the table.

He took a breath in relief; despite her small stature, somehow Rachel made the kitchen seem more cramped than usual when she fluttered around him like she did. Kurt flipped on the burner, pulling his favorite cast iron pan to the front of the stove, and let it heat while he mixed the ingredients together. He was about to add the chocolate chips when he heard another sound of scraping chair, and his hand paused above the bowl.

"I've never had vegan pancakes before," Blaine said, and Kurt turned to see him smiling jovially.

"Um, if you want I can--"

"Nonsense, Kurt, of course he'll have some," Rachel gushed, leaning a little closer to the younger boy, and Kurt felt a slight burn in his stomach at the sight. He couldn't possibly be jealous, could he? Rachel had Quinn, after all, and Blaine? Blaine was just a friend. Just a friend, he told himself as Rachel went on, speaking to Blaine now, "You'll love them, Blaine. And the chocolate chips taste real, I swear."

"Is that so?" he returned, still smiling, and Kurt scowled a moment before looking down at the bag in his hands.

"Blaine, if you're not sure, I could--"

"No, no," he smiled up at Kurt, and Kurt felt his stomach lurch, and though he knew he was being ridiculous, he much preferred it to the burning sensation of a moment ago, and he couldn't help but smile back as Blaine continued, "I'd really like to try them."

"Okay," Kurt nodded a little dumbly before flushing and turning back to the mixing bowl and dumping the chips in the bubbly mixture. He mixed a moment before grabbing the sunflower oil that Rachel had picked up a few days earlier and pouring a healthy measure in the bottom of the pan. It added an interesting flavor to things, but he'd found himself liking it the more he used it, and as the scent of warm oil floated up, he smiled and inhaled slowly. Vegan or no, he was pretty sure this was going to be another chef-d'oeuvre, and his smile only grew as he poured a quarter cup of the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle.

It was a little odd, listening to a conversation you weren't apart of, despite it happening right behind you. Kurt wondered if he should feel guilty for eavesdropping, but it wasn't like Rachel modulated her voice at all while talking to Blaine; she was just as clear as ever.

"So, Blaine, I've told you about myself, but what about you? You're a science major, aren't you?"

He'd known as much himself, and so was stunned to hear Blaine's negation of the fact.

"No, actually, I'm a music major."

Kurt couldn't help but turn around at that, though he flipped the pancake before he did so, and frowned.

"A music major? But you're the assistant in the physics lab."

Blaine blushed a little and shrugged.

"Well, yeah. I guess technically, I'm pre-med?"

Kurt gaped at him a moment before snapping his jaw shut and turning back to the stove. Blaine never ceased to amaze him, but that didn't mean he should go burning breakfast because of it.

"Really?" Rachel asked, clearly just as fascinated. "A pre-med music major? How does that work?"

"Well, my father hates the fact that I like music more than politics--"

"You're dad's a politician?"

"A senator, out of Ohio, obviously."

"Oh my god, you're Theodore and Celia Anderson's son! My dads took me to one of their society parties when I was about nine years old --one of my dads is a big-time lawyer, you see-- and I wore the most beautiful dress and I felt like Cinderella, and--"

"Rachel," Kurt cut in, knowing just by her tone of voice that her expression was probably something like fanatical.

"Oh. Sorry, I--"

"No, it's cool," Blaine replied, chuckling a little, and Kurt's grip on the spatula tightened a moment. When had it gotten this bad? he wondered as Blaine went on, "Yes, they're my parents. And they really did know how to throw one hell of a party. Still do, actually."

"I wonder if I saw you there..."

"I doubt it. My father didn't like me much before I made the humiliating decision to be gay."

Kurt tensed in affront, but Rachel beat him to any comments he might have made.

"That's awful! What kind of father would be humiliated by a wonderful, charming, handsome--"

"Rachel," Kurt warned, but she went on over him.

"--dashingly beautiful and talented son like you?"

It occurred to Kurt that Blaine was probably blushing --hell, he was blushing, and it wasn't even him she was complimenting!-- and he knew immediately that he wanted to see that color on his face. Which is why he simply placed another finished pancake on the slowly growing stack before pouring more batter into the pan.

"Uh, thanks," Blaine said, his voice small, but clearly pleased, and Kurt bit back his own smile. "It's not like he doesn't treat me well. He's just not very...affectionate, to begin with. And he's in DC more than half the year anyway, unless it's a campaign year."

"Of course. So did you grow up in DC, then?"

"No, I'm strictly an Ohio boy."

"But your parents--"

"Mom was there when she could be. Dad for an occasional weekend."

"So they left you all alone? That's terrible."

"Not so terrible. And Brigitte was always there. Man, I loved her," he added with a laugh.

"Brigitte?"

Kurt was surprised at the flash of jealousy he felt, and then told himself to take a breath. Blaine had already told him he was gay. Unless Brigitte was a transgender male, he didn't need to worry about the competition. Hell, why was he worrying about competition in the first place? He bit his lip as he placed the last pancake on the stack and shut off the burner. He pulled a jar of sugar-free syrup from the cupboard, and, plate and jar in hands, turned to the table.

"And breakfast is served," he said grandly, placing the plate perhaps a little more firmly on the table than he had intended. "Rachel, would you get out some plates and forks?"

"Oh, sure," she nodded, looking a little surprised at his interruption before rising to her task.

"Would you like anything to drink, Blaine?" Kurt asked, and he wondered if his smile did not look as forced as he felt it was. "We have milk, orange juice, water...or I could make some tea," he added as an afterthought, already turning to put the kettle on.

"Oh, I'll have some water," Rachel said brightly and Kurt saw out of the corner of his eye that she was setting the table, complete with paper napkins he had not even known he had.

"Would it be too much to ask for orange juice and a cup of tea?"

"Of course not, Blaine," Rachel answered before Kurt could and poured the juice herself while Kurt took two mugs from the cupboard.

When Kurt returned to the table, he found that Rachel had already served up a stack of pancakes to each of the three plates. He handed Rachel a glass of water, a little amused at how she had taken to the servile state and sat down across from her, with Blaine between them on his left.

"Shall we say grace?"

"Really, Kurt?" Rachel lifted a brow and he shrugged.

"It's Sunday. That and holidays are the two times I let myself be religious."

"But Brittany's not even awake, yet. You're only doing it for her, aren't you?"

"True," he nodded, but folded his hands anyway. "Still, she knows that, too, and she'll ask. I try not to lie to her if I don't have to."

"But Kurt--"

"A good practice," Blaine cut in, and Kurt had the funny thought that Blaine was trying to save him, as it were. "Shall we, then?" he asked, and held a hand out for each of them.

Rachel sighed, but took his hand, and Kurt grinned as he took Blaine's and her other hand.

"Alright, then." He bowed his head, and began, "Thank you for this food and this day, and for good friends. Bless us, and keep us, in your name, Amen."

The others echoed his 'Amen,' and Rachel snorted as she released their hands.

"Well, that was short."

"What, you expected a sermon?" Kurt teased, and picked up his fork. "Come on, Rach, you know me."

"I guess I do," she smiled in return, and took a bite of her own serving. "Dig in, Blaine, it's delicious."

"Don't mind if I do," he said, and did so, but not before smothering his pancakes in syrup.