“So, no chance of getting you back in Ohio, then?”

“No, Dad. We’re staying in New York.”

The first time Kurt asked Blaine if he wanted to share an apartment together, it was the summer before Blaine’s senior year and Kurt’s junior year. Blaine smiled and explained that while he liked the idea, he wasn’t sure if the timing was right. After all, things were going so well; he didn’t want to mess things up by being a bad roommate.

The second time Kurt asked was only three weeks later, and Blaine asked Kurt why it was all of a sudden such a pressing matter. “Because,” said Kurt, “It’s kind of a big step. And I’m just curious if you’re as ready to take it as I am.” Never one to turn down a challenge, Blaine sat down and thought things through. And while he probably should have been more rational about the whole situation, he ultimately decided that he felt ready, too. But while he knew his mother would be fine with it, being a full-time student without a job meant that Gordon still paid all the bills.

“I’ll just talk to him,” said Blaine, acting as nonchalant as possible. “I mean, getting an apartment is a little cheaper than paying room and board. Or it could be. You know? I’m, uh, saving him money.”

Kathleen shrugged. She rubbed Blaine’s arm lovingly. “Courage. Right?”

Blaine nodded, then went into his father’s study to talk to him. “So? What do you think?” he asked after he explained the whole deal.

“Absolutely not.”

Courage, thought Blaine. “Why?”

“You can do what you want, Blaine, honestly, I won’t get in the way. But the second you ask me to endorse these kinds of
actions, especially financially? No. That’s where I draw the line.”

Blaine swallowed, his dry tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “So, let me make sure I understand you,” he said. “You don’t care that I’m gay, but you won’t support anything I do that reminds you that I am?”

“I don’t think we have anything further to discuss here.” Gordon reached instinctively for his Blackberry. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Blaine felt an odd sensation in his throat; he wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or vomit, but before either one could happen, he said, “No, I’m going out.”

“It’s Sunday evening, Blaine Anderson. No skipping family dinners.”

“Dad, I’m 21. Don’t talk to me like I’m six.”

“Don’t act like you’re six, and I won’t treat you like it.”

Blaine clenched his right hand into a fist, willing himself as hard as he could not to do anything he’d regret. “Well, maybe I consider having dinner with Kurt a family dinner.” And at that, Blaine walked out of his father’s den and towards the front door.

Kathleen, who had been sitting outside waiting to hear what happened, shot up and chased after her son, catching him in the kitchen. “Blaine, calm down.”

“No,” said Blaine, who was wheezing from anger. “I’m going out.”

“You’re not driving like this. Sit down.”

“I don’t want to be in the same house as him,” hissed Blaine, refusing to sit.

“I know.”

“Why are you even with him? He’s a total – I mean, if Kurt and I had a son and he treated him the way Dad treats me, I’d kill him. I’d leave him, and then I’d kill him.”

“Calm down,” said Kathleen, endlessly patient. She managed to get Blaine into a chair, and forced him to take a few deep breaths. “You know, when you were a kid, I could give you a kiss and make it all better.”

Blaine looked down at the table in front of him.

“I can’t do that anymore. Now I have to ask you to understand that this is all very complicated.”

Blaine couldn’t manage to say anything. He knew he owed his mother big time for helping him out all these years, and for understanding how angry he felt all the time, but he was getting so tired of dealing with all of this. He always knew that going to New York would be amazing; he just never expected how much it would change him. Blaine never missed the old days of guarded smiles and uniforms, but whenever he came home, he missed his now forgotten ability to let things roll off his back. It was so hard to return to bigotry and ignorance when he spent so much of his time around people and places that embraced who he was. And as much as he loved knowing the sanctuary that New York provided him, part of him wished he’d never known it – just so he could have a chance at remembering how to feel happy in Ohio. “I’m not staying for dinner tonight,” was all he could manage to say.

Kathleen nodded. “Just don’t drive until you’re calm enough to keep the car on the road.” She left the kitchen, ruffling his hair on her way.

When Kurt answered his door that evening, he was surprised to see Blaine, and even more surprised when Blaine started crying. But the Hummel-Hudsons welcomed Blaine into the house without asking any questions, and when Kurt asked his father if Blaine could stay the night, Burt didn’t even make Blaine sleep on the couch. “You’re old enough,” said Burt through a sigh, refusing to make eye contact with his son. Carole patted him proudly on the back.

Blaine didn’t stir once that night with his back pressed against Kurt’s chest; being together like that was a level of serenity he silently promised to never take for granted. He wished more than ever that they could live together so this was an option every night.

The next afternoon, when Blaine arrived back home, he found an envelope on his bed with his name written on it in his mother’s handwriting.

“You don’t still live in that dump your mother paid for, do you?”

Blaine laughed. He was glad he could laugh about it now. “No. We moved.”

“Where?”

“Well, we had another dump in Chelsea for a while. Now we live on the Upper West Side. It’s a nice, old place that Kurt and I pay for together.”

Gordon cracked a smile. “Meticulously decorated, I suppose?”

“Of course.”

“Now you know what it’s like to live with your mother.”

Once Kurt and Blaine moved in together, they realized it wasn’t the fairytale ending they were expecting. That’s not to say they didn’t enjoy it, but they had to admit that Burt had a fair point when he warned, “You’re basically getting married here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad. No we’re not.”

“Call it what you want, kiddo, but you’re gonna do everything married couples do. You just don’t have the piece of paper. Or leftover cake.”

“We’ll get a two-bedroom. That way we each have our own space. Right, Blaine?”

“Mr. Hummel, I think – “

“I think that if you don’t start calling me Burt now, it’s never gonna happen.”

“Sorry. Burt. I think what Kurt’s trying to say is that we’re perfectly capable of being adults in this situation, and we’re ready to handle whatever conflicts come our way.”

But they weren’t.

It wasn’t big things. It never was. Picking furniture off Craigslist, or splitting the utility bill, that was simple. It was always the little things. For example, Blaine couldn’t accept Kurt going into his room and picking up his clothes. “Why are you doing that?” he asked.

“Because I forgot you had a carpet. Did you remember you had one?”

“Not the point here, Kurt.”

“Blaine, you throw things all over – “

“Yes, I throw my things all over my room. So why are you in there?”

“I’m just helping,” said Kurt, blushing.

“I know where everything is, whether you do or not. If you move things, I no longer know where they are.”

“But you can’t possibly live like that.”

Blaine gaped at Kurt for a moment, then walked away.

On certain occasions, Blaine found it difficult to remember a time when Kurt’s harsh, judgmental glares were endearing rather than threatening or annoying. “Do you think we could get a cat?” Blaine asked one day.

“Why?” asked Kurt, his right eyebrow fighting the urge to arch.

“Because it’s a cat. It would be fun.”

“And who’s going to clean up after it?” Up the eyebrow went.

“All you had to do was say no,” huffed Blaine. He went in his room and slammed the door.

Or, sometimes, Kurt simply wasn’t able to accept that Blaine ate his food. “Blaine, I bought those carrot sticks specifically for a recipe for dinner on Thursday. You rest the chicken cuts on top of them while they’re cooking in the oven, and the meat stays moist and flavorful,” he spat in one breath.

“Oh. Sorry,” Blaine offered lamely. “I thought they were fair game.”

“I don’t eat your food.”

“You can, though.”

“I don’t eat anything covered in neon-orange dust. And neither should you.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“Fine. But you’re still eating my food without permission.”

“Aren’t we sharing food?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

There was one week that they just avoided talking as much as possible.

But in mid-January, after spending the holidays mostly apart, (save for the annual New Directions/New Year’s Reunion Party) the boys made the trek back to New York from Ohio together and walked into their apartment. As they fell back into a rhythm they hadn’t even realized they’d established the last semester, something shifted in their moods. They ordered in Chinese food – Kurt didn’t even complain about MSG or excessive oil – and sat on their rickety old couch together eating. At one point, Blaine put aside his food and turned to face Kurt head-on. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” asked Kurt through a mouthful of saut�ed string beans.

“For anything you need me to be sorry about. Eating your food. Being messy. Whatever. It’s all-inclusive.”

Kurt swallowed and half smiled. “Me, too.”

“It’s been a little rough sometimes, but I really like living with you.”

“Yeah,” said Kurt. “I missed you over the holidays.”

“I thought I needed the break, but I actually – “

“—Missed you more,” Kurt finished. He shifted to face Blaine more. “I know I can be difficult.”

Blaine smirked.

Kurt slapped his arm. “I know that. But I’m really grateful that you choose to put up with it.”

“And I know I can be thick-headed, but I’m glad you’re willing to deal with it.” Blaine put a hand on Kurt’s cheek, stroking the soft skin that lay taught against his cheek bone with his thumb. “I love you,” he said.

Kurt put his food down and leaned towards Blaine. He snaked a hand up behind Blaine’s neck and pulled gently at the back of his hair as he kissed him. “I love you, too,” he breathed against Blaine’s lips. Then, without having to say another word, the two stood up and walked to Kurt’s bedroom – it was cleaner, after all – to make sure they knew exactly how much they loved each other.

“Let me know if you need help getting a flight or a place to stay. Kurt and I are happy to help.”

“I’ll talk to your mother about it.”

“I’m really glad you’re coming, Dad.”

Gordon nodded.

“It means a lot to me. And to Kurt.”

“Kurt is – he’s a smart man.”

“Thank you.” Blaine didn’t quite understand what sparked that particular comment, but he said nothing more, not wanting to push his luck. Gordon so rarely said a good thing about Kurt; he just wanted to bask in the compliment.