Maybe no one would have believed Blaine had he told them, but Lima was the perfect place to spend break. It may have been just another city in the heartland, but to him it was so much more. Being there in Lima, it was like getting window after window into Kurt. It wasn’t like Blaine had felt he was lacking for information about him before then, but it was different getting to be around him there.

Some things were small – the way he talked under his breath when they were driving or walking around, like a running commentary on the people around them. Lima wasn’t small, but it wasn’t exactly big – just the right size for running into everyone. Except Kurt didn’t so much run into people as he walked right past them. Blaine couldn’t blame him for being less than friendly, considering the side stories he got with every person they avoided. High school hadn’t been a good time for Kurt, and he was well within his rights to not want to deal with people who gave him nothing but bad memories.

Kurt seemed to carry himself different there, or at least Blaine thought so. He couldn’t tell for sure because he couldn’t actually see him, but he could feel it. He could feel the tension beside him, the way Kurt felt like he was a coil wound tight and ready to spring. It wasn’t always like that, just when they were around certain places, but Blaine could tell. That was a feeling Blaine was used to, so that made it easy to sense.

Every morning, despite Burt’s insistence that the coffee he made at home wasn’t that bad, they went to the local coffee shop – The Lima Bean. Kurt insisted that it was because he couldn’t get a mocha at home, and Blaine probably wouldn’t want to brave the plain, black coffee there, but deep down they both knew it was because they liked the tradition of starting their day out that way.

That was another thing that stuck out to Blaine – the whole start of the day, the fact that he woke up in the same house as Kurt every morning. The first morning had been a little awkward. He’d sleepily stumbled his way to the bathroom that was on the first floor and then gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water, which had caused him to (literally) run into Burt. If that hadn’t been bad enough, he hadn’t even thought to do something about his crazy hair. Burt hadn’t seemed to care but Blaine did, even after he’d gotten a pat on the head and Burt had gotten him the glass of water he’d been after in the first place. He hadn’t planned on Burt seeing anything but his normal very put together self, but he’d managed to fail at that right at the get-go.

After that incident, Blaine had taken to staying in bed until Kurt was awake. He could hear his light footsteps on the floor above, a stark contrast to Burt’s heavy footfalls. Besides, it was nice to stay curled up in bed until he came to find him, because Kurt always did. It usually didn’t take long, they both tended to be early risers. There would be the quiet creep of footsteps in the hall leading up to the door, the slight creak of the door opening, and then the pressure of Kurt crawling up onto the bed beside him, pressing soft kisses against his shoulders. It was the perfect way to start the day, save for waking up with Kurt there already.

Burt never elaborated on what he’d hinted at before, what Kurt had told him about Blaine before they met. He was full of stories though, and that was enough to distract Blaine from what he could have possibly meant. The way Burt talked about Kurt, Blaine could just hear the pride he had for him. Equal amounts of pride for when he’d been on the football team and when he’d been a cheerleader – both revelations which made Blaine almost choke on his drink at the time. Kurt, meanwhile, seemed horrified that any of it was coming to light.

Being around Burt was enough to make Blaine feel more comfortable there. He had such a warm, welcoming presence, and even though Blaine was still a little anxious about the whole situation, he couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t at all out of place. It was an odd feeling, considering how he’d anticipated the week going, but then again he always tended to anticipate the worst and then not believe it when something better happened. That was why mid-week, after spending several perfectly relaxing and lazy days with the Hummels, he took the opportunity to call home while Kurt was getting ready for the day.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mom,” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t like he’d expected his dad to be home, considering that it was a weekday and he always left early for work, but it was still nice to hear her voice instead.

“Blaine! What a pleasant surprise. How are you today, sweetie?”

“I’m fine, you?” He settled back against the pillows on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him. Burt was gone to work and Kurt was upstairs in the shower, he knew, but he couldn’t help but keep his voice down just in case.

“Just wonderful. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Did you want to, um, have lunch or something sometime?”

“Of course. You have to tell me all about your classes and everything, as you’ve managed to be completely silent about them so far.” Blaine winced slightly at her words, mostly because they were true. He’d barely spoken to his family at all since school had started. It was equal parts being busy with classes and also Kurt. He hadn’t figured out how to broach the topic of Kurt with his parents, and he’d figured it would be difficult to talk about how he was doing without mentioning him. “I’m free this afternoon?”

“Oh, I can’t today,” he said quickly, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see. “I’m, um, not around. Next week?”

“Blaine.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not around?”

“Yeah.”

“Just how not around are you?” Her tone had descended into something dry, and he could tell that she was more than a little annoyed. Marie Anderson was not a woman who liked being left out of the loop, and he knew that, but still. He really should have told them about going away for break, but… Kurt.

“I’m in Lima,” he said, chewing on his lip. Having that conversation over the phone wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do, and he rubbed at his forehead as he tried to think of how to get out of it short of just plain hanging up. “Hey, I have to go.”

“Oh do you?” Yes, she most definitely was not happy with him. “When are you going to be back?”

“Saturday.”

“Great, we’ll do lunch then. I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Silence resonated on the other end of the line, and he let the phone drop down into his lap. Lunch with his mom, talking to his mom, those were things he could do. It would have been better if she wasn’t preemptively annoyed with him, but he couldn’t help it. Better her than his dad. He couldn’t imagine talking to his dad like Kurt did with Burt, open and honest and not holding back. Even since what happened, even since his dad started being better about everything, he still couldn’t. There was a huge hesitation any time he thought about it.

Thankfully Kurt came in not too much later, smelling perfectly clean and wonderful, and rescued Blaine from disappearing into his head and making matters worse. It shouldn’t have been built up so much in his mind, he knew, the thought of talking about Kurt to his parents. Kurt was easy to talk about, easy to be with. Maybe it was more that he didn’t want the possibility of someone breaking into their relationship, trying to find some fault, trying to diminish it in some way. Did he think either of his parents would? Not intentionally, at least. There was always room for fear.

Blaine didn’t give it much more thought. He was trying to focus on the moment there in front of him, the week of nothing but Kurt – no classes, no Santana, no distractions, just Kurt. They’d never had that much time to themselves before, and it just proved it to Blaine all over again that everything with Kurt came easy and felt right. There had been a little bit of panic, that first day after they’d gotten there and he realized that they had all day and then so many days after, and it was just them and whatever they wanted to do. Because what if Kurt got bored of him? What if he had all these annoying habits that Kurt hadn’t noticed before because they weren’t ever together for more than just a few hours at a time? Blaine was very good at ‘what if’-ing himself into very deep holes.

Kurt was very good at reaching down to him when he was in those holes and pulling him out. Every day was relaxing, calm. Even if they barely did anything, it wasn’t boring. Just being around each other was excitement enough. Blaine hadn’t ever known it could be like that, and he supposed it should have been scary but it was just the opposite. It wasn’t until they were in the kitchen later that night, making dinner, that he felt the first bit of unease in days.

“Have you really not been in the mood to play?” Kurt asked, and Blaine almost dropped the potato he’d been washing. He’d almost forgotten that he’d said that.

“Kind of,” he offered, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I’ve been busy with classes, and there’s been a lot of writing so I haven’t had much time.” Excuses, all of it. Nothing had ever stopped him before, no matter how busy he’d been. That tended to up his playing time, usually, because when he was stressed he needed it more.

“I wasn’t going to mention it, because I didn’t want to push if you weren’t in the mood, but we have a piano.”

“You do?” Blaine lifted his head up, his brow furrowed. “I thought you said you didn’t really play.”

“I don’t. It was my mom’s, I used it a little in high school to practice for choir and stuff like that,” Kurt said, pausing. “I mean, it’s probably not completely in tune, but it’s there.”

“Where?”

“Hm? Oh, the living room. It’s kind of off in the corner because it doesn’t really get used when I’m not home. Do… you want me to show you?”

Blaine hesitated. Yes, of course the answer was yes. “Dinner, though.”

“We’re almost done, that’s the last potato,” Kurt said, taking it from him and then giving him a towel so he could dry his hands. “Come on, you can play while I finish up.” His hands were still a little damp as they slipped into Blaine’s, and he led him back into the living room. “Like I said, probably not entirely in tune but it shouldn’t be that bad.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Blaine said, sliding onto the piano bench. His hands drifted across the lid over the keys, the varnished wood smooth under his fingertips. Kurt leaned down, pressing a kiss against his temple before wandering back into the kitchen.

The lid creaked a little when Blaine opened it, but he barely noticed. The ivories of the keys were cool under his fingertips, worn and smooth and so much better than the cheap plastic keyboard he’d tried to play over the past weeks. It was the weight of the keys that really made it, and that had been the main reason behind him not being able to play the keyboard in his room. He pressed down, feeling the weight, listening to the slightly tinny but still perfect sound of felt hammers hitting strings and resonating through the body of the instrument.

It took a while before he got started and he took the time to acclimate himself, working through scales slowly then quickly as he limbered up his fingers in anticipation of actually playing. There was only so much he could take of that, so much he could force himself to do, before he had to give in and focus. He could hear Kurt milling around in the kitchen, not too far away, but once he started playing it was all tuned out.

It was one of those things he could never explain to anyone in words. He couldn’t ever seem to make someone understand what it felt like to be able to sit and play, especially after not doing so for any length of time. After weeks away was awful. Maybe it was because ever since he started playing, back when he was little, he’d never gone a day or two without sitting down and at least doing something. The first time he had that lapse, a time without playing, was when he’d been in the hospital after the Sadie Hawkins dance and then all the recovery afterward.

He’d had a lot of trouble coping at first, but no one had held it against him. No one but himself, at least. It wasn’t until afterward that he realized he should be grateful for what he had – the fact that he was alive and fine for the most part, and his family. Pity was one of his least favorite things, and he’d spent so much time wasting it on himself. Cooper was the one who got him to play again, weeks after he’d healed and avoided it completely. Blaine had been annoyed at him, frustrated, and mostly convinced that he wasn’t going to be able to do it anymore. Of course he’d been wrong.

In the end, it was what got him through it all better than he’d imagined, so maybe that was why he needed it so much. After everything that had happened, and all the aftermath, it was the one way he had found to cope that worked. It wasn’t always that he needed it, but when he needed it he really did and it was there for him. Most of the time, like just then in the living room at the Hummel house, it was because he just plain wanted to. It felt right to have the keys beneath his fingers, his toes resting over the pedal, music ringing through his ears as well as the rest of the house.

He didn’t hear the quiet footsteps as Kurt came in from the kitchen and settled on the couch behind him. He didn’t smell the delicious scents wafting from the kitchen, the dinner they’d been preparing well on its way to being done. By the time Blaine was done with the sonata he’d been playing, ending fast and borderline out of control sounding, he was still unaware that there was anyone else there at all. What took him back into reality was the sound of Kurt clearing his throat loudly, as if trying to signal something, but Blaine wasn’t exactly sure what that could have been. Then again, maybe it hadn’t been for him. Either way, it took him back to the moment and helped him get out of his own little world.

“Hey, kid, that sounded great,” Burt said, patting him on the shoulder. Blaine sat up a little straighter, flushing. He hadn’t even heard him get home, come in, do anything. From the days he’d spent there, he knew that Burt wasn’t exactly the quietest person when he was moving around the house.

“Thanks,” he murmured, carefully closing the lid over the keys.

“Part of that sounded familiar even, but I don’t know how.” Blaine tilted his head, thinking, but unsure how long Burt had been there listening.

“Well the, um, the third movement has the funeral march in it? Most people know that, even if they aren’t aware of it being from something more than just… that.”

“That must’ve been it,” Burt said. “Sounded really good, I liked that. Kurt’s right, you should record that stuff.” Blaine ducked his head down, smiling. “Dinner smells good too.”

“Should be,” Kurt said, walking over to them. “We worked extra hard on it.”

“Well I’m gonna go get cleaned up and then we can eat, alright?” Burt clapped Blaine on the shoulder again and then went upstairs. Kurt slipped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, standing behind him and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“That was beautiful, Blaine,” he murmured, hugging him. Blaine leaned back against him and rest his head against his chest.

“I’m glad you thought so,” he said, hands coming up to hold onto Kurt’s arms. “How long was your dad here?”

“Almost the whole time.” Blaine tried not to let that worry him – Burt had seemed to like it, after all. That was more than his own father had said to him in regards to his piano playing in years. “Come on, let’s go get the table set for dinner.”

***

It was one of the best weeks Blaine had had in recent memory, and it was over far too quickly. He’d gotten so used to the bed in the guest bedroom at the Hummel house, and the way it took them a short drive instead of a short walk for them to get their morning coffee. He’d gotten used to having a piano right there whenever he wanted to play it, and the way that Kurt would sit beside him on the bench and listen, not saying or doing anything, just listening. He was even used to being around Burt, not feeling nervous or anxious with his presence.

The last night there, Kurt had stayed with him in the guest room instead of sleeping up in his own. Blaine had been nervous, not wanting to do anything that would make him fall out of favor with Burt, but Kurt had assured him it was fine. It wasn’t like Blaine was going to argue very long or hard if it was going to end with Kurt being with him when he fell asleep.

He’d gotten settled into bed all dressed in pajamas, hair ungelled. Not much time passed before he heard the door latch quietly, the light switch flicked off, and the quiet pad of Kurt’s footsteps over to the bed. It dipped as Kurt climbed up, crawling in beside him and slipping under the covers. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blaine replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was a pause, and then the soft pressure of Kurt’s lips against his own. “Oh, hello.”

“Hello,” Kurt murmured, his arm looping across Blaine’s torso as he scooted in closer. “You glad to be going back to Westerville tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” Blaine said honestly, shaking his head. “I like it here. Your dad is really great, Kurt, and it’s nice to not have classes and just get to be with you all the time.” His face flushed as he realized the potential weight of his words, but it was dark so he doubted Kurt would be able to tell.

“No, that is nice,” Kurt said, leaning in to kiss Blaine’s cheek. “I’ve enjoyed it, too. And I’m glad you like my dad. I tend to think he’s pretty likeable, but that’s me.”

“He is, when he’s not scaring people,” Blaine teased gently. Kurt huffed out a laugh. “Hey, um, it’s still okay if we leave early enough to get back by eleven, right?” He’d asked earlier in the week, very soon after the phone call with his mom actually, but he wanted to make sure they were still on as planned. Having to cancel wasn’t exactly an option.

“Mhm. So long as you wake up on time, we should be fine.”

“Hey, I wake up earlier than you do most days!” Blaine pouted, mocking offense. It was true, he did tend to wake up early to give himself extra time to get ready, but still. He’d even packed his suitcase completely except for what he was planning to wear the next day and all his toiletries, which were still in the bathroom.

“I know, I know,” Kurt said, his breath playing against his Blaine’s cheek as he leaned in and their lips met again.

The last time they’d slept in the same bed, the only other time they’d slept in the same bed, it had been all holding and nothing else. It had been for comfort, out of need. That didn’t change what it was, just made it a little different. Being there in the guest bedroom with Kurt that night, in his home, his dad’s house, the soft caresses of lips and tongues against each other, was a little surreal for Blaine. The original impulse and question of oh God what if Burt comes down and finds us was quickly pushed to the back of his mind as he rolled slightly up against Kurt and pressed a soft line of kisses along his jaw.

Kurt had this way of humming when Blaine did something he liked, something that felt good. That’s what he did when Blaine kissed along his jaw, trailing back to beneath his ear. He usually still hesitated to take the lead on things like that, but it was hard not to when Kurt was there in his bed and his head was tilted to the side so Blaine’s lips could work their way down his neck and take in the long column of his throat. Kurt’s fingers threaded up into his hair, twisting into the curls, and for one of the first times Blaine didn’t care that his hair was naturally crazy looking because of how nice it felt to have Kurt’s hands twisted into it.

He tugged Blaine up, their lips meeting again and searing together. Kurt’s lips were perfect, soft and warm and pressing against his. No matter how many times they kissed, Blaine never got used to how wonderful it felt, how it made him feel like nothing else in the world was happening except him and Kurt and how perfect their lips, their tongues, felt against each other.

It was the same way he felt whole – oh God that was a scary thought that he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to say out loud – with Kurt there wrapped around him as they fell asleep, arms and legs overlapped and tangled beneath the sheets and blankets. He wasn’t sure how sleeping alone was supposed to be at all comfortable once he knew how it felt to be cradled in someone’s arms and lulled into sleep through the comfort of their breath playing against his neck, slow and soothing.