Burt was surprised by the simplicity that permeated their first Friday night Family Dinner with Blaine present. It felt almost normal; oddly normal really, because things had been up and down and all over the place since September to the point where he almost couldn't recall what normal had been for them.

Blaine was still half- asleep for most of the meal, so he barely spoke. He kept his eyes downcast and shoveled all the food he could into his mouth like he thought it would disappear if he blinked too many times. Carole had insisted on taking the open spot next to him and between her and Kurt his plate was constantly being re- filled. He looked so pitiful and tiny, seated between his son and Carole that Burt didn't even have the heart to try and start a conversation with him. For now he'd let the kid focus on eating his first real meal since Monday morning and maybe attempt a little small talk when they all settled down in the family room to watch whatever Kurt decided on tonight.

But that part of his plan didn't work out so well either. Kurt and Finn immediately started bickering over whose turn it was this week to pick what they watched together. Finn knew very well that it was supposed to be Kurt's turn this week, but with his football schedule he wouldn't be here next Friday night. After ten solid minutes of arguing Blaine had slunk down on the couch and was steadily and sleepily watching the debate when Carole finally came to the rescue.

"Finn, it's Kurt's turn this week," Carole said diplomatically. "And you won't miss next week or miss a turn. Next Friday Blaine can pick the movie."

Both boys froze and turned to where Blaine was seated on the right side of the couch. Burt glanced over at him from where Carole and himself were curled up in his favorite chair. Blaine's arms were folded tightly against his chest and he was doing his best to make himself go unnoticed. Finn noticed his discomfort immediately and readily agreed.

"That sounds fair," Finn conceded. Kurt put Moulin Rouge in the DVD player and dropped onto the couch next to Blaine. "You better pick something good, Blaine."

Blaine just gaped at him, looking stunned at being so quickly included into something that was sacred to them. Finn pouted a bit as he put back the latest Batman movie and dropped down on Kurt's other side.

For the next few hours Burt settled into Carole's embrace and watched the boys more than the movie. Even though Kurt had seen this particular movie at least a dozen times, he was still endlessly thrilled with the musical numbers and romance. Finn kept up a non- stop stream of grumbles and eye rolls that resulted in Kurt telling him he should pay better attention because Rachel adored this movie. But Blaine remained as quiet as he had been at dinner, and it was unnerving for Burt because he had prepared himself for hearing Blaine make lewd comments and being obnoxious or loud. Burt watched the boy closely, saw the wonder in his eyes as he watched the images flash across the television screen. It reminded Burt of the first time he'd taken Kurt to Cedar Point when he'd been fresh out of his first year in elementary school. He would always remember the huge grin that had been glued to Kurt's round, freckled little face that afternoon, the way his eyes had blazed with excitement and amazement at all the world held for him to experience.

It hit Burt like a ton of bricks that Blaine had never seen this movie – probably hadn't seen any movie in years, let alone in an environment where he was safe and loved. The boy had nothing but them now, and he couldn't even bring himself to allow himself to trust just that little bit, to allow hope.

By the time the end credits started rolling Burt was dozing in his chair and if Carole hadn't shaken him, he knew he would have fallen asleep right there. He glanced back over at the couch, and his stomach gave a funny jolt. Blaine was asleep again, his head dropped down onto Kurt's shoulder and one of his arms wrapped around Kurt's back. Both of his son's arms were around Blaine, holding him close, his own head tilted down to rest on top of Blaine's curls.

Carole struggled out of the chair and started pulling blankets off the rack in the corner and then shuffled off to Kurt's room. He watched her disappear down the stairs, not sure why she was heading down there, but he didn't question it. Carole knew what she was doing much more so than he did around Blaine. Finn yawned out a goodnight to them and followed her downstairs.

"Here, let me help," Burt mumbled, getting out of the hole he'd sunk into in his chair and helping Kurt lay Blaine out on the couch. Kurt pulled Blaine up towards the opposite side of the couch and laid down as Burt lifted Blaine's legs and dropped them where they'd just been sitting.

"Thanks for letting him stay, Dad," Kurt whispered as Blaine curled up on his chest, one leg swinging over Kurt's and pulling him closer.

"I told you he's always welcome and I meant it," Burt reminded him. He glanced down at where their feet were tangled together, eyeing the ratty, beat up Converse on Blaine's feet. "Do you want to wake up him so he can put on some pajamas?"

Kurt looked worried at the suggestion. "No," he decided, biting his lip. "If we wake him up he might not– might want to– "

Kurt swallowed audibly and curled his arms tighter around Blaine's torso, nuzzling his nose against the other boy's curls. Burt didn't need to hear to the rest of Kurt's unspoken words to know what he was so scared of. He also knew there was absolutely no way he would have let Blaine go anywhere at eleven o'clock at night, especially if it meant returning to his apartment complex. They'd all spent more than enough time in the hospital in the past few weeks, and the last thing they needed was Blaine ending up there because of something they could prevent.

"Let's get his shoes and jacket off at least, bud," Burt offered, sinking down onto the edge of the couch by their feet and tugging Blaine's right foot onto his lap. The first thing he noticed was how much more worn and destroyed his shoes looked up close. The tread was peeling away from the torn, faded fabric of his shoe and the rubber over the toe had been worn so thin it was cracking over his big toe to the point where Burt could see what he was pretty sure was Blaine's sock. He traced a finger over the toe almost unconsciously, feeling a bump underneath that he could only assume meant Blaine had to curl his toes up because his shoes were several sizes too small. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and tried to ignore the way his chest tightened as he rubbed his thumb on Blaine's shoe again. God, how long had it been since anyone had cared about this kid? How long since he'd even had someone to keep him in clothing that fit?

Blaine squirmed in Kurt's arms as Burt unlaced his shoes and tugged them off. He was relieved when he'd dropped them onto the ground and Blaine was still sound asleep and snuggled down into Kurt's arms. Carole's footsteps echoed up the stairs and she appeared a moment later with one of Kurt's pillows in her arms.

Burt offered a hand to Kurt to help pull him up, but Kurt shied away from it, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"But I want to stay on the couch with Blaine tonight," Kurt whined, slouching down further into the cushions and letting Blaine practically roll on top of him.

"No," Burt said firmly. "He's gonna be living here before long, by the looks of it, and that means there are going to be ground rules. First rule: you two sleep in your own beds and not together in each other's without my or Carole's permission. Now up."

Kurt frowned up at him, but didn't argue as Burt hoisted Blaine off of Kurt's chest. The boy struggled profusely in his arms, whimpering and groaning until Kurt was sitting up enough to pull Blaine back into his arms. Blaine latched onto him instantly, quieting as he settled against Kurt's chest.

"Dad," Kurt began, turning big, teary eyes onto him. But Burt knew he had to stand his ground. The sooner they got used to this rule the easier this transition would be.

"No, you're sleeping in your own bed tonight," Burt said firmly. He paused for a moment, his heart aching at how tightly Blaine had curled himself around Kurt in just the past few seconds, before he added, "Alone."

An exaggerated eye roll greeted his words and he sarcastically returned the gesture as Kurt huffed in annoyance.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm keeping you two apart or that you can't have time together or whatever, all right?" Burt said, watching Kurt as he worked to pull Blaine's jacket off his shoulders. "But I'm the parent here. There are going to be rules, bud, and I know you two aren't going to like them, but they're necessary."

"Fine, just fine," Kurt mumbled, pushing the worn leather jacket off Blaine's arms and draping it over the back of the couch.

Burt nodded a little bit, and sighed heavily. He knew how difficult this was going to be for them, because on top of everything that Blaine was and would be struggling with, he was essentially creating a barrier between them. It wasn't much of one, but it was something that Blaine would undoubtedly hate even more than Kurt would.

Carole wordlessly passed Kurt his pillow and with a hard, reluctant tug Kurt pulled himself out of Blaine's grip and replaced his body with the pillow. Another whimper reached Burt's ears as he watched Blaine latch onto it and hold it so close and tightly he looked like he was smothering himself with it.

Kurt tangled his fingers into Blaine's curls and massaged his scalp gently as he sunk back down into the couch. A little hum of contentment greeted the touch as Carole unfolded two big, fuzzy blankets and draped them over Blaine. Kurt leaned down and pressed his lips to Blaine's cheek as Carole tucked the blankets in around his legs and feet.

"Goodnight," Kurt murmured against Blaine's cheek. There was a tiny sharp intake of breath as though Kurt was steeling himself to say something else before–

"I love you, Blaine."

Burt was certain that his heart had imploded in his chest at his son's words. Six weeks. They'd known each other for six weeks and his son – his Kurt – was in love. The one thing Kurt had been desperate for all of last year, maybe even longer than that, as he'd watched everyone else have a chance he hadn't thought would be his for years. A shaky breath escaped Burt's mouth as he stared down at them, only his vision was blurry and a warm pressure was pushing against his eyes. This was all he'd ever wanted, ever hoped for. That someday Kurt would find someone who saw through his hard exterior and got past all the walls he had to build up to survive; that someday Kurt would find someone that would love him just as much as he loved him. If Blaine did feel as strongly as Kurt did... god, he hoped so. He couldn't stand the thought of Kurt's heart getting shattered and torn to pieces, and this time would be a million times worse than that crush with Finn had been.

He blinked rapidly a few times and tried to discreetly wipe at his eyes without Carole or Kurt noticing. Kurt was still too distracted by Blaine, but Carole was smiling softly at him, and while she too seemed surprised to by Kurt's words, she looked thrilled all the same.

"I'll see you in the morning, Dad," Kurt said standing up and hugging him tightly. He did the same for Carole and with a final fond glance at Blaine's sleeping form he headed down to his room.

Carole's fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his hand to her lips. "You okay?"

Burt nodded absentmindedly, staring first at his son's bedroom door and then back down at Blaine snuggled up under the blankets on the couch. The plan he'd created to make it safer for Blaine to return to his apartment whenever he felt the need it could wait until tomorrow or Sunday. He was going to need Kurt's help getting the right things anyway since he'd never been to Blaine's apartment.

"Yeah," he decided, threading his fingers with hers and letting her pull him towards the staircase leading upstairs. And he was okay, better than okay, really. His strength was returning more and more every day, he had a beautiful, amazing woman who loved him, a second son now that was a terrific kid, Kurt was happier than he could ever remember him being, and he had the chance to be something for Blaine that the boy had probably never imagined. Okay didn't even begin to cover it.

He was cold, tired, and hungry. His little feet were sore and numb from trying to keep up with the doctors and his father as they had raced around the hospital. There wasn't even a window in the waiting room he was sitting in, but Blaine knew it had to be way past his bedtime. He sniffled a bit and drew his knees up to his chest as he looked around the empty, sterile white room.

Nobody had come to get him like they'd said they would. He'd been sitting on the same hard plastic chair for hours after his father had been ushered out to wherever it was he'd gone. Nobody had bothered to tell him what was going on, or where his Mamma was and why he couldn't see her. The only thing he knew for certain was that something was terribly, terribly wrong. His fingers brushed over the knees of his jeans, knees that were soaked with his mother's dried blood.

Blaine bit his lips sharply, feeling tears prick his eyes as he remembered his father rushing up the stairs and into the bedroom. His legs had been stiff and sore from kneeling next to his mother for so long, but he hadn't known what else to do, or what was wrong. So he'd taken her hand the same way she'd always done when he scraped his knee or tripped and cut his elbow up and sat there and told her everything was going to be okay. His father had burst into the room with a bright smile and a huge bouquet of her favorite pink roses, only to stumble to a halt and then fall back against the wall in horror.

A shiver ran up Blaine's spine at the memory of that look. He didn't quite know how to explain it, but it was worse than the look on his mother's face when she'd found out her parents had gone to heaven, whatever that was. He wasn't really sure what it meant or why them going somewhere was such a bad thing, but apparently it was. It also meant he couldn't meet them like he was finally suppose to this past Christmas.

With another glance around the room, Blaine wiggled off his seat and wandered out into the hallway to find his Daddy. Maybe his Mamma would be waiting with him and they could all go to the lake like they'd planned.

There was nobody out there that he knew, though. And he couldn't see up over any of the big desks where all the ladies in their colorful, funny shirts were, to see if he knew one of them from when they'd arrived. He could feel his hands starting to tremble as he wandered a little further and turned down another hallway. Where were his Daddy and Mamma? Why hadn't his Daddy come back after those men with the shiny badges had asked to talk to him?

"Sweetheart, are you okay?"

He spun around so fast he almost fell, but two strong, soft hands caught him by the shoulders and steadied him on his feet. The tears that had been pooling in his eyes started to fall as the nurse lady dropped down onto her knees in front of him.

"I- I- I c- can't find my D- Daddy," Blaine hiccupped, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to hold back his tears and stop the way his body was shaking.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," the nurse told him soothingly, brushing his floppy curls out of his eyes. "I'll help you find him, okay?"

"You– you will?"

"Of course," she said, shooting him a kind smile and clasping one of his hands tightly.

He sniffled a bit, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. The woman laughed at him, and rolled her green eyes a bit, but there was an affectionate warmth there that was just like his Mamma's. He attempted a watery smile as she pulled a few tissues out of her pocket.

"I swear, that must be a little boy thing," she told him as she gently wiped the snot off his sleeve and nose, and brushed his tears away. "My son does the exact same thing ten times a day."

She stood up, still gripping his hand tightly as she started down the hall with him. He told her what his Daddy's name was and what he looked like as she walked him around in search. By the time they reached the ground floor he was telling her all about how his Mamma was teaching him to play the piano so he could be as amazing as she was someday and how much he loved music and wanted to play it forever.

She smiled encouragingly at him as he yawned loudly and wobbled a little on his feet. Before he realized what was happening she bent down and scooped him up in her arms. He didn't mind, though. He dropped his head on her shoulder as they wandered the last few hallways towards the front entrance.

"I've been trying to learn her favorite song for months and months," he told her. "I've been practicing all the time so I could play and sing it to surprise her on Mother's Day."

The nurse smiled adoringly at him and shifted his weight onto her hip. "I'm sure she's going to love it, sweetheart. My son's trying to do some sort of drum thing for me."

Blaine glanced up at her in confusion. How did she already know what her Mother's Day gift was. It was only Friday!

"He's never been very good at keeping secrets," she whispered conspiratorially to him.

He giggled a little in response, but then jerked his head around at the sound of a familiar voice from the other side of the front waiting room they were in. His father was standing by the automatic doors with a doctor and those two men with the shiny badges.

"Daddy!" he shouted, wiggling down out of the nurse's arms and rushing to his father's side. He attached himself to his father's leg like Velcro and wrapped his arms tightly around it."Where's Mamma? Are we going to the lake now?"

"No." His father's voice was quiet and strained as he continued to stare at the spot where the other men he'd been talking to had disappeared. He pulled back from his father's leg and stared up at him. He'd never heard his father sound like that before. He tugged on his Daddy's pants to try and get him to look down, but he didn't. Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat as his father started for the door.

"But what about Mamma?" he asked desperately as he followed after him. "Is she waiting in the car? She's coming too, isn't she?"

His father paused in the doorway and sucked in a shaky, rattling breath. "No," he said again and then he headed out the door. Blaine glanced back at where the nurse that had helped him had been standing, but she was gone now. The tears started to pool in his eyes as he raced out after his father into the parking lot. Neither of them spoke the entire drive home. Blaine cried quietly in the backseat. Why wasn't she coming home? Did she have to stay overnight at the hospital with that nice nurse? When was she coming back? Why wouldn't his Daddy look at him?

But by the time they'd pulled into the driveway Blaine couldn't stop his questions anymore. His father had gotten out of the car almost as if he was in a trance and hadn't even helped him out of his car seat. He was scared and mad and hungry and tired and he didn't understand anything that had happened at all today.

He struggled out of his car seat and made it inside just as his father started to ascend the stairs.

"When's Mamma coming home? Where is she? Daddy, what's– "

"She's not coming home, Blaine!" his father bellowed. Blaine trembled and stepped back in fear because his father had never, ever raised his voice like that before. He'd never shouted so that his voice cracked and wobbled and made Blaine want to cry all over again. The empty look swept back over his father's features and Blaine shuddered and looked away. That was the same way his mother had looked at him this morning. Had he done something wrong? Maybe this was all a test for him like the ones he had in school. But what they were testing him on, he didn't know. He didn't know why they had both looked at him like they'd never seen him before –like they didn't love him anymore.

His father disappeared up the stairs, and Blaine hugged himself tightly. The sound of a bedroom door slamming closed echoed down to him and he shuffled into the family room and sat at the piano. Surely his father would realize that he hadn't fed him or tucked him in and read him a story. He couldn't sleep without a bedtime story and a kiss goodnight.

He spun around on the piano bench and tapped out the first few notes to Hallelujah. It was the song he'd been practicing for his Mamma for months and months because it was one of her favorites. He still hadn't perfected it yet when he tried to sing along but he was getting really close.

His fingers fumbled a little over the first verse, but he sang along quietly and kept going, pushing through verse after verse and hoping maybe his father would hear him and come down and take him up to bed and kiss him goodnight like he always did.

"Maybe there's a God above, and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah "

He fumbled another note as he passed into the final chorus, still singing softly as he played out the final chords. He smiled slightly through his tears, and instinctively spun around expecting to find his father, or even his mother watching him. His face fell as he took in the empty, dim room, and he suddenly felt like he'd been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. She was never going to hear him play that for her, was she?

His vision turned blurry as he turned back to the ebony and ivory keys his mother was so fond of. He didn't understand what had happened. First his Mamma wasn't his Mamma anymore and now she was gone and his Daddy was nothing like the man who had tickle fights with him or taught him how to catch a baseball. The tears started falling heavy and fast, and his little legs swung a good foot above the floor as he rocked himself and sobbed.

A warm, reassuring hand suddenly pressed against his back, the fingers dipping it and rubbing gently against his skin through his thin shirt. He shuffled his feet against the wooden floor– but, wait, weren't his legs too short to reach that?

"Shh, don't cry, sweet boy," the person next to him on the bench whispered. "I've got you. You're safe now."

He leaned into the other person and blinked a few times only to see that his arms, his legs, everything was grown up and definitely not the body of a six year old boy. A warm hand cupped his cheek and tilted his face up and to the left. Bright blue swirling galaxies stared into his watering eyes before the hand lifted his chin and pulled him forward for a soft kiss.

"I love you, Blaine. No matter what happens, know that I love you..."

He gasped slightly and coughed, rolling against the back of the couch as he opened his eyes. His cheeks were damp and he could feel himself shaking from the emotions swirling through him. Soft gray light was filtering in around the edges on the blinds on the windows. It took Blaine a moment to realize where he was and why he was so warm. Too warm really, he was used to sleeping in a frigid, icy room and waking up to find frost on his heating unit. He kicked the blankets twisted around him off his chest and rolled onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling and breathed in deeply.

He was safe and the thought terrified him. He'd thought he was safe when he was that happy, innocent little boy and then everything had disappeared. Kurt's smile flashed bright and beautiful through the haze of memories still clouding his mind. God, everything was so confusing and new. Or maybe it was old, and he'd just forgotten what it really felt like to live.

On a sudden impulse he untangled himself from the blankets completely and stood up. He could never sit still after a dream, a memory like that. He hated remembering how naive and lost he'd been that night. It was only when he was older than he'd learned the entire truth around his mother's death. Even as a little boy he'd understood that she'd been depressed, and he couldn't really blame her when he looked back now. His father was working constantly to please his own father, they were arguing about money and how he didn't want to take any handouts, and then her parents had surprised her with the news that they and her sister were coming over from Italy for Christmas only for the plane to go down somewhere in the Atlantic.

The pills had been to help make his mother happier, to make her act like herself again. But they'd done the opposite. They'd turned her into a terrible mess, and more and more everyday Blaine had come home from school and silently listened to her argue with someone who wasn't there – had seen her throw things at someone that wasn't there until it drove her mad. It was only after the autopsy and an investigation that they'd found out the pharmacy had messed up and given her ten times the dosage she was meant to have.

A shiver ran down his spine even though he tried to suppress it, but then the end of his dream came back to him and he hugged himself tightly, dropping back down onto the chair and curling in on himself. Kurt was there – was here now, and it was a connection he'd never wanted and nothing like what he'd ever dreamed up for himself. A gentle, kind- hearted boy who would give him an entire new world if he could only remember how to reach out and grasp it.

He looked around the dark room for a moment and his eyes fell on the piano tucked into the corner in the hallway. It'd been a long time since he'd played. Months since he'd fiddled around with one at Dalton, but years since he'd just sat there and poured himself into it. For a moment he hesitated. He had no idea what time it was. Someone might be awake and hear him. The memory of Kurt's reassuring touch brushed over his back and before he could think to control the urge he was dropping down on the bench and pushing up the curved wood that hides the keys.

Blaine simply stared down at them for a moment, watching the dust swirling through the gray light that was steadily getting brighter around him. Most of his elementary school life had revolved around the piano. Friends had been hard to come by because the entire school had known about his mother's death, and he'd been so angry at his father for everything that had happened after that he'd shut himself off.

His fingers dipped down, pressing gently at a few keys for a moment as he let his mind drift.

"Hallelujah... "

The word fell out of his mouth and his fingers started stumbling over the familiar melody before his head had caught up with them. Mindlessly he played through the verse section , smiling nostalgically as he fumbled through the same notes he had that night as a little boy. The night his entire world had changed and he'd lost everything. No amount of trying had ever brought his parents back.

His fingers had stopped and he sat there, staring at his hands, poised and ready over the keys, as he tried to reel his mind in and away from anything his subconscious brought back in his dreams. He'd stopped trying a long time ago, had stopped hoping for something more and had secretly only hoped for what he'd lost. But now he had something more and felt so lost whenever he got close to it he couldn't even remember why he was scared of it.

"Not ready to let go
Cause then I'd never know
What I could be missing"

His fingers and voice had taken control, were taking him to thoughts and places he had avoided and never wanted to visit.

"But I'm missing way to much
so when do I give up
what I've been wishing for"

He was so immersed in what he was playing he didn't hear the creak of a stair behind him as he kept the steady piano rhythm going and let his eyes drift shut. There were notes he was missing and fumbling over from years of not playing, but it couldn't have mattered less. This was everything he was – everything he was terrified of being.

"I shot for the sky
I'm stuck on the ground
so why do I try
I know I'm gonna fall down
I thought I could fly
so why did I drown
I'll never know why it's coming down, down, down"

The soft rustling of pajama pants was at the bottom of the staircase now and somewhere in the haze he was lost in he thought he could see his father, red- eyed and distraught, coming down the stairs that night and dropping on the bench the same way Kurt had in his dream. Wrapping Blaine up in his in arms and making sure he knew that nothing would break them apart; that they were still a family even if they weren't whole anymore.

" Oh I am going down down down
Can't find another way around
and I don't wanna hear the sound
of losing what I never found"

His breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, fighting down the tears he could feel building as his fingers trembled and stopped moving over the keys.

"You sound really great, kiddo."

He swung around on the bench, swallowing the gasp that had almost flown out of his mouth and found himself staring up at Burt. The man nodded, either in agreement with his own words or something he hadn't bothered to say, but it unnerved Blaine. Kurt loved his father more than Blaine had thought was possible, but he couldn't even bring himself to say a nice thing to the man in case everything just backfired in his face.

"I– I should go," Blaine said hurriedly, getting to his feet and heading for the door. "I've got to– to go to the s- store," he invented wildly. "And um, shave. I need things to shave." He tugged the door open a few inches, but a strong hand pushed it shut again.

"I've got an extra razor up in my bathroom you can use," Burt said gently as Blaine stared at the door. He couldn't ever remember being so nervous around someone. For so long he hadn't bothered to care what anyone else thought or needed, but this man meant everything to the boy that was quickly becoming his entire world. How could he still shut himself off and let himself love when these two were part of the same world?

Burt seemed to take his silence as badly as Blaine had taken his nodding a few moments ago. "I've been waiting to give it to Kurt, you know, if he ever starts shaving."

Blaine found himself nodding at the words. "Kurt's very... smooth," he conceded, taking a step back from the door that Burt's hand was still flat against.

Burt's eyebrows rose at his words, and Blaine almost didn't catch himself before he winced. God, he had no idea what the hell he was doing right now.

Burt cleared his throat a little and said, "I had a different one for him last year, but then Finn started shaving so I taught him... "

Again Blaine nodded, biting his lip to stop all the ridiculously horrible things he was so used to saying. He didn't see how it was possible for Burt to like him after the things he'd said about Kurt the first time they'd met, but Burt was trying. He was trying for Kurt, and if Burt was willing to do this for his son, then Blaine wasn't going to let Kurt down no matter how many reservations he had.

Burt's hand was tentative as it dropped down onto his shoulder and gently directed him towards the staircase. For a moment the urge to dart from the grasp, to run as far away as possible crashed over Blaine like a tsunami, but he forced his legs to move, his knees to bend and climb the stairs behind Burt. The older man's foot stumbled on a step halfway up and before Blaine realized he was reacting, his hands were firmly pressing Burt's upper body forward to help him balance again.

"Careful, I don't think Kurt will be too happy if you fall over and crush me to death," Blaine muttered, feeling cheesy and foolish before the words had fully left his mouth.

A gruff chuckle greeted his words, and it surprised Blaine so much he immediately retracted his hands from Burt's back like he'd been shocked. Burt sway a bit and grabbed onto the railing, turning on the step and smiling down at him. At least Blaine thought he was smiling, his eyes were twinkling the same way Kurt's did, but maybe Kurt's eyes sparkled when he was happy and Burt's did before he killed his son's boyfriend.

Blaine held in his flinch until Burt had turned back around and started up the stairs again. Burt was such an enigma in his mind. Every fatherly type of figure he'd ever had hadn't amounted to anything worth remembering, and Burt was... different. Frighteningly different compared to his grandfather and the disaster his father had turned into. Slowly he followed after Burt, hesitating when Burt disappeared through a doorway halfway down the hall. He'd never been to this part of Kurt's house and had absolutely no idea what room was what, if this was a bathroom or Burt's room, or why they needed so many rooms and doors in the first place. A light flickered on and streamed out into the hallway as Burt stuck his head out and held up a emerald green razor for him to see.

"Hope you like green," Burt offered, dangling the razor in front of him. Blaine latched onto it and rolled it over in his hands. It was much nicer than the little, cheap throwaway ones he'd been buying. He stepped into the bathroom as Burt rummaged through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a can of shaving gel. Burt set it on the sink counter and moved aside so he could step up to the sink. Feeling horribly awkward, Blaine stared down at the shaving gel and the hand towel draped over the counter. Was Burt going to stand there and watch him or something? Did he think Blaine needed guidance on how to do something he'd figured out on his own a year and a half ago?

"Is it common for people to stand over each other like vultures in this house or something?" Blaine asked incredulously as he turned the hot water tap on and pulled up the stopper in the sink.

Burt started where he'd been leaning against the wall and shuffled his feet. Blaine watched him for a moment, his skin prickling uncomfortably as he popped the plastic cap off the shaving gel and started to squirt some into his hand –

"Hold up," Burt said suddenly, taking the can from his hands and setting it back on the counter.

Stomach twisted in nervous knots, Blaine took a step away from him as Burt took the wash cloth of the counter and held it under the hot water pouring out of the faucet.

"I usually only shave after a shower," Burt told him as he wrung the little towel out. "Your skin's warmed up and it makes the shave smoother. But when I don't have the time I take a towel," Burt folded the towel in half and held it up as he continued talking. "And just press it to my face for a few minutes."

Before Blaine could react, the towel was pressed softly against the side of his neck. Eyes wide and stunned, he let Burt rub it over his stubble for a few minutes. He'd hated to admit it, but it felt nice. It felt amazing to have someone giving him insight into something so simple. When Burt finally pulled the towel away he felt himself droop a little at the lost of contact. For a moment he could see just what it was that Kurt loved so much.

"I take it you know how to do the rest?" Burt grunted, dropping the towel onto the sink again and clasping him on the shoulder.

Surprised once again by the gesture, Blaine nodded up at him as his heart gave a funny jerk in his chest. "Yeah, I figured that out a few years ago," he said softly, moving away from the hand on his shoulder to tug his shirt over his head as Burt stepped past him and into the hallway. He didn't have a change of clothes, and he definitely didn't fancy getting shaving gel all over the only shirt he had.

As Blaine turned back to the mirror he caught sight of Burt still standing in the doorway, looking alarmed as he stared at Blaine's side. His skin crawled under the look, not because Burt was freaking him out any more than usual, but because he knew why that look was there. The scar along his ribs was in perfect view for Burt at this angle. He twisted away to get it out of Burt's line of sight, and tried to ignore the echoes of memories rattling in his head.

"You need anything just holler, kiddo." Burt's gruff voice was soft and almost sad as he nodded at him and disappeared down the hallway.

Blaine eyed himself in the mirror, taking in the stubble all over his jaw and throat and the steadily growing mass of curls that was beginning to fall into his eyes. His cheeks were more hollow than they'd been the last time he'd bothered to take a good look at himself in a mirror. His collarbones and muscles were much more pronounced and he knew that this was a combination of not eating enough most days and his weight lifting class. He brushed his thumb over his chest curiously and felt little, soft hairs tug at his skin. It would be just his luck that his chest would want to turn into a fur rug. The red, angry edge of his scar caught his eye, and this time the memory was more distinct.

His face smacked against the pavement as someone's foot kicked him in the middle of the back. Another foot connected violently with his ribcage over and over again. And then from the far side of the dumpster Blaine heard the sickening crack of metal against brick. The other two boys – men, really, since they were seniors – hauled him to his feet and pinned his arms back against the school building.

"Not so brave now, are you, fag?"

He twisted hard to free himself, but then the air was knocked from his lungs and his breath was swallowed back down as he choked for air. The crow bar whistled through the air again as it slammed against his ribcage a second time, and pain seared through his body. Every nerve was screaming as he felt something snap, something break–

His hands were trembling violently as the memory faded. He gripped the counter hard and leaned on it, trying to ignore the flare of phantom pain along his ribs, and the distant memory of feeling like he was drowning from the inside. After a deep breath he took hold of the shaving gel can, squirted some into his hands, and started lathering it up over his jaw. Memories of some stupid assholes from his eighth grade dance couldn't hurt him anymore, and besides, he'd made sure to return the favor that summer. None of that should matter now, but for some unexplainable reason it still felt like it did. Felt like he'd suppressed it for as long as he could, but now he was feeling things he hadn't felt in years. It was only natural for all of these memories to start flooding back, wasn't it?

Half his face was smooth and clean shaven when Burt appeared at the door again, a towel, a pair of gray, jersey lounge pants, a long- sleeve shirt, and boxers and socks in hand.

"Figured you'd want to have a shower before breakfast," Burt said simply, setting the pile down on the toilet. "Just use the shampoo and shower gel already in there, okay?"

Burt eyed Blaine's shaved cheek for a moment and smiled in approval. "Looking sharp, kiddo. Watch out for Kurt if he's got scissors, though. I think he's gonna be hell bent on giving you a haircut this weekend."

Alarmed, Blaine stared at the Kurt's father, who laughed at the stunned look on his face. No doubt he looked incredibly similar to a woodland creature caught in headlights, and he hated that.

"Somehow I don't see you two agreeing on how you'd want to wear your hair," Burt added as he took a few steps towards the door.

Blaine shook his head a little and dragged the razor over the sideburn still covered in foam. "Probably not," he mumbled, eyeing where he'd just shaved in the mirror to make sure he hadn't missed a spot. "If he bugs me enough maybe I'll show up with a Mohawk on Monday."

This time Burt chuckled loudly and patted him on the shoulder. Something warm bubbled up in the pit of Blaine's stomach at the sound and the gesture. It was almost as if... almost as if Burt might actually like him. But that was ridiculous. Burt was doing this because he loved Kurt, wanted his son to be happy, not because he cared about Blaine... right?

Burt told him that he'd be in the kitchen and left him to finish shaving and to take a shower. Feeling both confused and oddly at ease, Blaine finished shaving and hopped into the shower, taking his time and enjoying the spray of warm water that came out of the shower with a pressure that was absent from the cold shower in his apartment. After he hopped out and dried himself off, he picked up the clothes and examined them curiously. They were too small to be Burt's or Finn's, but way too simple to be something that Kurt would wear. He'd seen enough of Kurt's wardrobe to know that Kurt would never be caught dead in something so basic, but maybe they were Kurt's and he only wore things like that to sleep in or to walk around the house. He tugged them on quickly and headed back downstairs with his dirty clothes, which he stuffed into his school bag by the front door, and, after a moment's indecision, headed into the kitchen where Burt had said he would be.

Blaine was surprised to find that Carole was awake as well. She was just setting a cup of coffee down on the table when she spotted him standing in the doorway. A bright, kind smile was directed at him and – god, why was that so familiar? Carole approached him and kissed him on the cheek and placed her hands on his shoulders. When she brushed back his curls a moment later he was glad she had a good grip on his shoulders because part of his dream – his memory – flashed through his mind again and he swayed.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," the nurse told him soothingly, brushing his floppy curls out of his eyes. "I'll help you find him, okay?"

"... Blaine? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Carole's voice seemed to float to him through a thick fog as the image vanished from his mind. God, there was no way it had been her. It couldn't have been. He looked at her face, trying to hold on to the memory of that gentle nurse. The same green eyes, the warm smile that seemed to expand outwards and envelope him. And Finn was the little drummer son she'd mentioned to him that night. There were a few more worn lines around her eyes and a crease along her forehead, but she was almost exactly the same. Unless his mind had filled her into the role of that nurse. It had been ten years since that night, and she didn't seem to remember him or anything at all. He wasn't important enough to remember.

"I'm fine," Blaine said gruffly, eyes darting around to take in Burt's curious look and Carole's worried expression. With a quick shrug he dropped onto one of the barstools at the island and folded his arms on the counter top. Before either of the adults could say anything more, Finn stumbled into the kitchen, sleepy- eyed with hair standing on end, followed closely by Kurt in his silky pajamas.

Another dazzling smile was directed at Blaine the moment Kurt noticed him and, god, this was the most bizarre morning ever. Even Finn gave him a sleepy nod as he sunk into the chair next to Burt. Kurt's arms wrapped around his waist from behind and his chin dropped onto Blaine's shoulder. Any tension from the few awkward moments that morning melted out of his limbs as he turned his head and accepted Kurt's soft kiss.

"So, what's for breakfast?" Kurt asked him, pressing another kiss to the curve of his jaw. Blaine shivered a little at the soft sensation and almost didn't register Kurt's words.

"I don't know." He looked expectantly at Carole and Burt. It seemed strange that Kurt was asking him about breakfast when it was his house. But Carole smiled at him again, and he had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat as the nurse popped into his head again.

"It's up to you," Carole informed him, walking around to the opposite side of the counter and resting her elbows on it. "Finn's already had two turns this week. Kurt picked on Tuesday, Burt on Wednesday, me on Thursday and Finn again yesterday morning. I'd say it's about time we worked you into the rotation."

"What?" Blaine blurted out before he could stop himself. What was it with these people and taking turns? Kurt's arms tightened around him slightly as he sat up straighter and pulled away from the warmth. One of Kurt's hands rubbed soothingly up and down his side. "M- me? No, you can pick. I'll eat anything, really."

"Oh, come on, Blaine," Kurt teased. "Don't waste your turn unless you want Finn to pick pancakes for the eighth time in a row."

They were serious. Flabbergasted, Blaine gaped first at Kurt's adoring smile and then at Carole's hopeful expression.

"What did you always demand to have as a little kid?" Kurt murmured into his ear, nuzzling his nose against Blaine's neck.

The words made his eyes drift shut and for a moment he was walking into his parents' bedroom on the Friday before Mother's Day, but then the room morphed into their spacious kitchen. His mother and father were at the stove, laughing and talking and twirling each other around as the cooked breakfast like they had done every Saturday morning. He was hoisted up into his mother's arms and handed a big stirring spoon by his father, who wrapped his large hand around Blaine's little one and guided it around the big bowl...

"We used to make French toast and pudding every Saturday morning," Blaine said quietly as his eyes flickered open. "We'd sit in the living room and watch Saturday morning cartoons while making little French toast and pudding sandwiches."

"Sounds perfect," Carole said delightedly as she spun around and starting pulling out things to make French toast. "Kurt you know how to make pudding, right?"

"Um, sort of," Kurt replied, looking thoughtful.

"I still remember," Blaine spoke up, still watching Carole in amazement as she actually started making what he'd suggested. He wasn't used to being listened to, or having someone appreciate his words.

"You can teach me, then," Kurt said excitedly, tugging him off the barstool and towards the refrigerator. Surprised by the movement, Blaine didn't resist and after a few seconds of hesitation, he started helping Kurt pull out the right ingredients. He couldn't help but laugh with Kurt as they made a terrible mess making the pudding. It was almost... fun, and bizarrely calming and natural. Burt had shuffled over to the refrigerator, pulled out a container of strawberries, and was sitting in the seat Blaine had vacated and eating them. Finn was half- slumped over at the table and drooling on the Sports page.

The whole morning felt incredibly normal to Blaine. Sitting down at breakfast and listening to them talk and share little stories about one another as they ate their French toast, pudding, and fruit. By the time Kurt dragged him down to his room for a movie marathon, his face hurt from how much smiling he'd been doing and he felt like someone had pumped him full of laughing gas. As they collapsed onto Kurt's bed after putting in a movie, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open.

"Door open, guys!" Burt hollered down at them.

Blaine rolled his eyes a little at his words, because if Burt was trying to stop them being intimate then he was way too late for that. He curled up behind Kurt and wrapped his arm around Kurt's chest as the movie started playing.

"You know," Kurt murmured, turning slightly in his arms. "We could at least get away with some making out, if you want."

"Oh, yeah?" Blaine returned, feigning disbelief. "I was sort of hoping to watch... "he glanced at the screen for some indication of the movie they'd put in. "Since when do you like Batman?"

Kurt rolled over in his arms and slid an arm around his neck. His smile was warm and tender as he traced his finger tip along the curve of Blaine's jaw. Blaine hummed a little at the touch.

"I'm incredibly fond of Batman, Blaine," Kurt scolded playfully. "I seem to recall having quite a nice night wearing Batman pajama pants."

"Those pants spent more time on the floor than on you," Blaine retorted, tangling his legs with Kurt's and leaning in for a slow, lazy kiss.

"Still fond of them," Kurt replied with a happy sigh. "And as for the movie, the explosions are impossibly loud meaning– "

"I can tease that spot on your neck for the next two hours without them hearing those breathless, gorgeous little moans you make."

Kurt's cheeks flared pink as he pulled back to stare at him, but then a hand slid up under his shirt and Kurt's fingers brushed over his ribcage. A loud gasp fell from his lips and he arched his body into Kurt's and keened.

"As long as I get to do the same," Kurt murmured. "I've been meaning to explore you for a while now."

Blaine tilted his head forward and captured Kurt's lips in a deep kiss. A teasing tongue swept across his lips a second later and eagerly open his mouth as Kurt's tongue dipped inside. It wasn't the most passionate or heated kiss, but somehow the slow sensuality of it made his head spin. Made his heart thrum painfully in his chest and every inch of his skin so sensitive he felt like he was roasting over an open flame. Just the light brush of Kurt's fingers over his ribs again made him jolt and have to pull away from the sheer intensity of the touch. He was so overwhelmed by the warmth and acceptance and kindness all around him.

Kurt pressed forward and worried Blaine's lower lip between his teeth. Blaine whimpered again and before he could think, before he could even register that he was talking, he was murmuring against Kurt's lips.

"I am so in love with you."

Kurt froze against him, his mouth going slack and pulling away from his lips. Blaine's eyes flew open, because there was absolutely no way he'd just said what he'd heard himself say. And Kurt was gazing at him in shock.

"Shit, I – just– fuck, I was– "

He was instantly silenced by another eager kiss that made him relax back into Kurt's embrace and forget that he'd just admitted to his biggest fear, his only real secret – the one that nobody had knowledge of, that nobody could take from him like they could take everything else.

Kurt's lips moved softly against his for another moment before pulling away. Hot breath ghosted over his face and Kurt's forehead pressed against his, but Blaine kept his eyes closed and waited for whatever horrible thing was bound to happen next.

"I love you, Blaine."

And he knew the expected response to those words; had uttered it a hundred times as a child, but now he'd almost forgotten how to form the words. Forgotten the rush of heat to his chest, the feeling of being swallowed up by something bigger than himself and Kurt and the entire world as a whole. It had been years since anyway had told him that, been so long he'd almost forgotten such a thing existed.

The pressure built behind his eyes as Blaine took a shaky breath and looked into Kurt's eyes. For the first time, he let himself look and not put up the blinders and the walls and saw what he'd been hiding from for weeks – saw the incredible, simple, beauty that Kurt felt for him shining bright and whole for him to see and return. He took a split second to wait for the familiar urge to run to wash over him, to force him up out of Kurt's arms and out into the cold, windy streets of Lima. But it didn't come, his heart just swelled more in his chest the longer he looked at Kurt until he knew if he tried to hold it in anymore he'd burst at the seams.

"I love you, too."

Kurt's grin was bigger and more carefree than he'd ever seen it as he leaned forward and kissed him again. Blaine smiled into the kiss and sunk deeper into Kurt's embrace. His wildest fantasies had never conjured up the reality he was slowly letting himself fall into, and while part of him still thought that it was all too good to last, he wasn't going to let himself waste a minute of it anymore. Kurt was worth so much more to him than that.