Cemetery Song for Spring - Part 4 of 4

[kappamaki33]

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Everyone talks about the “no wearing white after Labor Day” rule. Having an end-date for white implies a beginning date as well, and Kurt finds it strange that no one ever talks about that. Kurt of course knows that the magic date is either Easter or Memorial Day, depending on who you ask.

But Kurt Hummel does not follow bourgeois fashion edicts like those, especially ones with potentially religious overtones. He plans to go down to the party dressed head-to-toe in white: white collared shirt, white bowtie, favorite fuzzy white Gucci sweater, criminally tight white jeans, and white ankle boots. But then he thinks of what hell he might raise if someone calls him a bride. He ditches the tie and switches out the Gucci for his mother's deep blue sweater.

He looks at himself in the mirror in Blaine’s room one last time.

“Kurt!” Blaine calls from downstairs. It had only taken him twenty minutes to dress and fix his hair.

Kurt sighs and commiserates with his reflection. “I’m coming!”

For a moment, Kurt wishes they were having the party inside, so he could make a dramatic entrance. Then he sees Blaine at the foot of the stairs, and he’s transported to the Dalton main staircase a decade ago. Only this time, it’s even sweeter, because of the familiar way Blaine’s face lights up when he sees Kurt.

“You look amazing,” Blaine murmurs, holding out his hand.

Kurt takes it. “You look pretty amazing yourself, and it only took you a third of the time.” He smoothes the collar of Blaine’s maroon shirt, not because it isn’t already perfect-just to touch him.

“The guests should be arriving any time now. Ready to party?”

Blaine looks so happy that Kurt can’t bring himself to bitch, even though it’s his go-to mechanism to combat nerves. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” They walk hand in hand through the kitchen and out the French doors.

The first thing that strikes Kurt, though he supposes it shouldn’t surprise him, is how clean and precise everything looks. Mrs. Anderson went with Kurt’s color palette suggestion. The crisp white table linens flutter in the breeze, and the yellow napkins almost perfectly match the small centerpieces of white-and-yellow sweet peas and jonquils. He’s glad she chose those flowers-classier than daisies, but not as quintessentially “wedding” as roses or lilies. He’s also heartened by the fact that, despite the buffet tables crowded with so much food, there aren’t that many tables for guests. That means she kept the guest list under control, which is a relief. The lawn and shrubs are perfectly trimmed, and he supposes he can forgive the inevitable white Christmas lights and paper lanterns twined in the tree branches. Most surprisingly, the chuppah actually suits the rest of the décor. Two doves sit in a pedestal cage beneath the chuppah’s canopy, cooing quietly. Overall, very well done, Kurt thinks. Lovely, even.

Kurt takes a deep breath, and Blaine squeezes his hand. He can handle this.

He turns to Blaine and is about to say something meaningful when two high-pitched squeals from the other side of the lawn interrupt him. Tina and Mercedes break into a run, Artie rolling at their heels as fast as he can. Before Kurt can react, he finds his arms full of giggling, chattering women. They’re so busy telling him how good he looks and how long it’s been since they’ve seen him that he can’t find an opening to tell them the same. It’s a good thing they have to tackle Blaine and kiss his cheeks, too. It gives Kurt a moment to regroup, and to say hello to Artie, as well as Tina’s husband and little girl, who are just now catching up.

Kurt hears Blaine attempt to ask Tina and Mercedes how their trip was, but they’re too intent on filling Kurt in. They nearly cut each other off as they speak.

Mercedes says, “Okay, so Santana’s girlfriend’s Facebook page said she’s too buried in studying for her boards to come, but she said Santana is definitely still coming.”

Tina adds, “Finn tweeted he’s on his way, and Puck should be here any minute, too.”

“Same with Sam and his wife, and Mike and his wife.”

“They’re bringing the baby. He’s so cute, you have no idea.”

“Brittany’s coming, with…well.” Mercedes and Tina trade knowing looks. “See what you think when they get here.”

Tina continues, “Rachel texted that her flight was delayed, but she promises she’ll be here before dessert.”

Mercedes rolls her eyes. “How much you wanna bet her flight was on time and she just wants to make a grand entrance? Anyway, Lauren couldn’t make it-she’s, like, negotiating some huge media rights deal in Singapore or something. She said she’d throw you a bachelor party when she got back to make up for it, even though it’s kinda backwards. She said something about bringing some of her friends from work?”

Kurt and Blaine trade terrified glances. They both know Lauren is an up-and-coming young executive with the World Wide Wrestling Federation.

“So it’s almost as complete of a New Directions reunion as we could reasonably hope for,” Tina says, apparently not noticing their horror.

“What about Quinn?” Blaine asks.

Tina and Mercedes give him an odd look. Mercedes says, “Like we could ‘reasonably hope’ she’d come?”

As much as Kurt wants to know what that means-and he can tell Blaine wants to know even more-there’s no time to follow up on it, because that’s when Mike arrives with his (remarkably, not Asian) wife and eight-month-old baby. After him, a couple of Blaine’s cousins show up, then a few Warblers, then more and more guests until the backyard is buzzing with voices and laughter.

It’s a little overwhelming, but Kurt’s handling it all right until he sees Carole talking to Mrs. Anderson by what’s turning into an impromptu gift table. He sees where his dad should be standing: right behind Carole, trying to sneak some teriyaki chicken wings.

“Hey,” Blaine murmurs in his ear. “You okay?”

Kurt bites his lip and nods. “Just…don’t leave me, please?”

“Okay,” Blaine says, and he looks…not happy at Kurt’s pain, but relieved at having specific instructions. He twines his fingers with Kurt's. “I can handle that.”

Kurt sets his shoulders and heads toward Carole and Mrs. Anderson. It’s about time he and Blaine thank them for all their hard work. He repeats his mantra in his head: I can handle that. I can handle that.

~*~*~

After a round of hugs and pleas to eat more from his mom and Carole, Blaine spots Finn, Evie, Artie, and Mercedes at a table. He knows this party isn’t easy for Kurt, so he steers Kurt toward them in the hope that a small group of close friends will be easier to deal with than mingling with the larger group.

“Do you get to see the movies before they’re released?” Finn asks Artie as Kurt and Blaine sit. Even Evie’s training is no match for Mrs. Lee’s paella, since Finn’s talking through a mouthful of it.

Artie grins. “One of the best perks of the job. Yeah, I mostly do grunt work, but it’s grunt work for effing Pixar. I’m living the dream.”

“I know what you mean about grunt work,” Mercedes says. “I have more formal musical training than any of the other pastors at my church, and I’m still just directing the kids’ choirs. I may not get to be in charge of our really good choir until Reverend Wilkes dies.”

“Must be a big church. How many pastors do you have?” Evie asks.

“Right now, four,” Mercedes says.

Finn asks, “Do they do gay weddings there? OW!” Blaine can’t tell whether the person who kicked Finn under the table was Evie or Kurt.

“No,” Mercedes says, looking down at her plate. “Not like I can change it-like I said, I’m at the bottom of the totem pole. And not like you would’ve wanted to be married by a minister anyway, right?” she says to Kurt.

“Very true,” Kurt says.

Blaine is still trying to come up with something to break the awkward silence that has descended over the table when Evie addresses him, apparently with the same goal in mind. “I know you two were high school sweethearts, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story of how you met.”

Kurt laughs. “I was sent to his school to spy on their glee club. Blaine figured out I was a spy as soon as he saw me. In retrospect, my disguise was closer to a fetishist’s interpretation of an Eton schoolboy uniform, but I didn’t know that back then. Still, within five minutes of meeting, he was singing a sexually explicit song to me with two dozen polyester-blend-clad boys backing him up. The rest is history. Except for the stretches where we were ‘just friends’ who lusted after each other.”

“And there were a lot of those stretches,” Mercedes adds.

Artie and Finn nod, and all three look at each other like veterans of the same war.

“There weren’t that many,” Blaine says.

Finn winces. “There kinda were, man. Or maybe there weren’t so many of them, but they lasted a long time.”

“Yeah. You were sort of the villain in Kurt’s story for a while, from our perspective,” Artie admits. The others nod. Blaine feels his eyes bugging out.

“Really?”

“Can you blame us?” Finn says. “Those first couple years after high school, every time you’d physically come back into Kurt’s life, you’d hook up with him and then pull the ‘let’s just be friends’ crap and screw him up for weeks.”

Blaine gives Kurt a look to ask if this is true or if Finn is blowing things out of proportion. Kurt shrugs and swirls another forkful of pasta into his mouth.

Finn senses the tension. “Don’t get me wrong-I like you a lot now. More important than that, we’re family now.” He gives Blaine a brotherly thump on the shoulder. “Anyway, in retrospect, I’m really glad I didn’t punch you that New Year’s like I wanted to, ‘cause that’d make things awkward now.”

“Wow, okay,” Blaine says, trying to process all this.

“Dude, seriously, don’t worry about it. Like I said, you’re family. If you hurt him, I reserve the right to chew you out, but I’d do the same thing to Kurt if he hurt you.”

“That’s oddly…really sweet,” Kurt says. It is, Blaine silently agrees. He’s just still struggling with the concept that he was a villain at one point.

“Hey, what are brothers for, right?” Finn says, smiling. Then he leans in and whispers in Blaine’s ear, “But if you ever cheat on him, I make no promises about not breaking your face. Not that I think you ever would, but just so you know.” He pats Blaine on the shoulder and speaks up again. “Did I ever tell the story of how I took Kurt condom shopping for the first time? It’s way more interesting than how they met.”

“Finn!” Kurt’s face turns bright red.

Blaine has heard this story before, so he allows himself to zone out a bit. He thinks he should be feeling guilty about what he put Kurt through those years when they weren’t together, but that’s not what’s weighing most heavily on his mind. It’s that Finn is able to forgive Blaine for all the shit he put Kurt through with a simple, two-word explanation: we’re family.

Blaine doesn’t begrudge Kurt for having such an amazing family. Not to mention, there’s nothing for Blaine to be jealous of, because he has an amazing mom himself. They’re lucky to have so many people who accept them and love them. He shouldn’t be bothered by the people who don’t, even if they’re of the same blood.

And yet, for the first time in a very, very long time, Blaine wishes his father was there with him.

~*~*~

Blaine slips away when Kurt sees him trying to catch the attention of a group of former Warblers and subtly gives him permission to go. Blaine doesn’t feel bad about leaving Kurt for a while, because Kurt seems quite comfortable holding court with the Rebecca Circle. Even as Blaine walks away from the conclave, he hears another chorus of awwws.

The Warbler contingent is standing off to the side of the main crowd, by the chuppah. Of all people, he finds Santana and Puck chatting with David, Jeff, and Nick.

“I bet your firm lets associates have same-sex domestic partners on their insurance, doesn’t it?” Santana asks David in a rather accusatory manner. David nods, looking a little afraid. Santana shakes her head. “Exactly. Even if I were a county attorney in Middle-of-Nowhere, Fucking Iowa, the state government would have to let me put my spouse on my insurance, if I had one. But no, because I want to put away the biggest scumbag drug dealers and gang bangers who put out fucking hits on me, I’m a federal prosecutor, and the federal government can’t be fucked to care that not everyone’s family looks like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting. Not that I’m all eager to be domesticated like Anderson here.”

Blaine has just enough time to think that Santana would make quite the politician if she didn’t swear like a sailor before the others see him and start a round of congratulations and friendly back-slapping. The Warblers offer apologies for their absent brethren-most of the guys were off being doctors and lawyers and captains of industry on the coasts. Almost all of them had sent their well-wishes along with the representative Warblers, though, and promised to visit once Blaine and Kurt settled down somewhere. Blaine secretly wishes this could have been a reunion for the Warblers the way it’s shaping up to be for the New Directions, but he understands. He graciously and easily slips the group back into the conversation he interrupted.

“I know what you mean, Santana. I’m never going to work for the federal government, but it makes me angry. Even if you may not personally benefit, it’s the principle of the thing,” he says.

“Regardless, it’s ridiculous,” David says. “I suppose that’s something you’re worried about too, isn’t it, Blaine?”

“Pardon?”

“With job hunting,” David explains. Blaine’s blood runs cold at the word job, but David doesn’t notice. “State universities in certain states would be required to include Kurt as your spouse for the purpose of insurance and benefits, whereas some states I imagine might outright ban that practice. I don’t know what the trend is with private colleges at all.”

“Oh, kind of like the Chinese babies thing,” Puck says knowingly. The Warblers give him an odd look.

“Did Dalton have a policy on that for the teachers’ benefits?” Jeff asks.

David says, “I don’t know. They must have, mustn’t they? Considering how accepting Dalton was when it came to students, it would have been quite hypocritical of them not to be so with teachers.”

Santana adds, “Yeah, well, people who do the same job in the courthouse on one side of the street get treated differently than people who do the same job in the courthouse on the other side of the street. If the justice system can be that hypocritical, sorry if I’m not as certain as you guys are that your little polyester doo-wop utopia was everything it was cracked up to be.”

Normally, Blaine would be all right talking about this. Maybe if he had a job, he could talk about the unfairness of how he’d had to cull his list of potential employers based on that criterion, and how that had put him at a disadvantage from the beginning. Because then, as real as the effects of injustice were, this would all be theoretical as applied to him.

But he can’t do it, not in front of David and Santana the lawyers and Nick the banker and Jeff the business owner. He’s ashamed of himself for it, especially standing beside Puck, who is completely at ease around people with several years more education and several times greater earning potential than he has.

“Dude, you look like you need a drink,” Puck says to Blaine.

“Where is the booze, anyway?” Santana says. “I took the punch assuming it was spiked, but I’m pretty sure it’s not.”

Blaine winces. “Sorry, guys, but my mom’s kind of a teetotaler.”

“Huh?” Puck asks.

“Means this is a dry party,” Jeff says, visibly disappointed.

“Damn,” Puck says. “I figured I’d get sociably drunk and have to crash with a buddy in Columbus tonight. If I’d known I was gonna have to stay sober, I would’ve brought the girls along.”

“You have kids?” Jeff asks.

Puck’s face lights up as he digs his wallet out of his pocket. “That’s Kelly, and that’s Jenny.”

Even Santana leans over, interested. “Aww. The thought of procreating makes me break out in a rash, but even I have to admit, those are some cute kids, Puckerman.”

Puck beams. Then it looks like something pops into his mind. “Hey, you’d be a good person to ask. How old were you when you knew you were a lesbian? Not, like, ready to come out, but like looking back now, when did you know you liked girls?”

Santana raises an eyebrow at him. “None of your fucking business,” she says with very little venom, considering.

“I just wondered, ‘cause I think Kelly kinda has a crush on another little girl in her class. I figured you might know if she’s too young to know, or…what, you know?” Puck may struggle with finding words for what he’s trying to convey, but Blaine is surprised at how little trouble he seems to be having with the concept that his daughter might be gay. Puck is full of surprises.

Santana takes another look at the photo. “Maybe, maybe not. At that age, I had a crush on Ricky Martin, and look at how that turned out.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Puck says, putting his wallet away. “Guess I should just get prepared for anything. I don’t want to let her down.”

Santana says, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but from you? I’m kind of impressed by this.” The Warblers nod in agreement.

Puck shrugs. “I may be just a dude, but so was Burt. And he was about as awesome of a dad as they come.” Puck looks at Blaine. “Back when I was in high school, Burt really didn’t like me. He watched me like a hawk whenever I came over-which is more proof that he was a good dad.”

“I should get back to Kurt, but it was great seeing you all again,” Blaine says. He can see from where he’s standing that Kurt is fine, now happily chatting with Tina, but Blaine very much does not want to be a part of this conversation anymore.

The others offer parting congratulations, but Puck leans in and mutters to him, “You guys haven’t become teet-whatevers like your mom, right?”

“What? Oh, no, Kurt and I drink.”

“Good. You might not want to open my gift in front of her, then.” Puck pats his shoulder again and waves goodbye as Blaine retreats.

Blaine knows he should be happy that Puck has turned out to be a much better man than he ever would have guessed. It should reaffirm his faith that sons can be better fathers to their children than their fathers were to them-that he will be a better father, that something good will come from all this because Blaine has learned from his father’s mistakes. He should be happy that that little girl is going to have somebody to fight for her, no matter what. Instead, he’s jealous of her.

It hurts so much to even articulate it in his mind, but Blaine thinks to himself, I wish my dad were more like Noah Puckerman.

~*~*~

Kurt sits down beside Tina again. He has just finished his contribution to Rachel’s grand entrance. Rachel had been happy to see Kurt and very happy for him and Blaine, but she was too busy riding on the high of landing her first role on Broadway to talk about much else. Kurt doesn’t blame her in the least. She’s been slaving away in off-off Broadway productions for years. Hell, if Kurt got the role of the Green Fairy in the first-ever stage production of Moulin Rouge!, he wouldn’t be able to talk about anything else, either.

Still, he’s glad when Rachel moves on to repeat her harrowing audition story to Finn, Evie, and Artie. One thing about Rachel certainly hasn’t changed over the years: she’s exhausting.

“Okay, now back to the serious business of gossip,” Kurt says to Tina as he leans back in his chair.

Tina smirks. “All right. What do you think of Brittany and her…companions?”

That makes Kurt sit straight up. “Oh my god, are they a threesome, or do you think Brittany’s dating one of them and the other is the partner’s sibling?”

“I know, right?” Tina says. She gestures at where Brittany is sitting with two blonds who look like they stepped out of a classical painting. All three are feeding each other cake in a manner that’s verging on obscene. “I’ve heard that Vedic City is the hippie haven of the Midwest, but…wow.”

Kurt watches as the man with Brittany climbs into his girlfriend-hopefully-not-sister’s lap. “Though I must admit, if it’d been a yearbook voting category, I would’ve voted Brittany most likely to move there, or to be in a polyamorous relationship. Or both.”

Kurt jumps in his seat when Tina’s daughter pops out from underneath the table, but apparently Tina knew she was there. She lifts the two-year-old into her lap and looks at Brittany again. “Her Facebook status is no help-‘at one with the universe.’ It sounds like she’s pretty successful, though. Vedic veterinary medicine seems to be the perfect fit for her.”

“I didn’t know she was in that field,” Kurt says.

“That’s because you’re never on Facebook.”

Kurt’s back stiffens. He says much more defensively than he intended, “It sounds like you’re an addict.”

Luckily, Tina smiles. “Yep, proud Facebook junkie. I’m thinking of putting a section about Facebook in my thesis. It’s fascinating from a sociological perspective, both for its staying power as a culturaul institution and its effects on social interactions. And of course, it's essential for keeping up on gossip. I always found it a little strange that you dropped Facebook, considering how much you love gossip, too.”

Kurt shifts awkwardly. “Yeah, well.”

“I have a theory why-” then she looks at Kurt and says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was making you uncomfortable. Forget it.”

Leaving it like this is even worse than airing it out, though. “No, I’m fine. What’s your theory?”

Tina is reticent now. “Well. I thought it was significant that you quit cold turkey almost the same time you moved back to Ohio.”

“Yeah.” Kurt’s shoulders slump. “All through school, I’d bragged about how I was going to escape Ohio and lead this incredible life. When I moved back…I don’t know whether I wanted to avoid the schadenfreude or the pity more.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Tina says, rubbing Kurt’s shoulder affectionately. “On the bright side, it must be fun to find out tonight what everyone has done with their lives. Like how our parents must feel going to class reunions. For me, I’ve been Internet stalking most of these people for so long, there really aren’t many surprises.”

Kurt considers that. It’s an interesting point. “Do you think people would have come to this party if I’d stayed in constant contact with them all?” That sounds a little pathetic, so he adds jokingly, “I do have an alluring aura of mystery this way.”

Tina giggles. “No, you don’t. Finn tells us everything. But we would’ve come regardless.” She becomes more serious. “I predict Facebook will eventually kill events like high school reunions, where the only reason most people go is to show off their own lives, and to find out if the people that made high school a living hell ended up crashing and burning in real life. For things like this, though-coming together to celebrate with people we love-Facebook can’t replace that.”

Tina looks down at her daughter for a moment, who has been utterly transfixed with folding a napkin into different shapes. Tina starts very slowly. “All of us from glee club talked about coming to your dad’s funeral.”

“What?” Kurt honestly doesn’t remember who was at the funeral besides immediate family. The only relevant detail he’s recalling now is the memory of a big bunch of lilies with a card from “the original New Directions,” written in Quinn’s neat hand.

Tina looks almost apologetic. “Your dad was such an awesome person, and we really wanted to support you. But then Finn and I talked, and we decided it was too likely that if we all came, it would turn into a big, fat glee reunion. We figured maybe it would be best to hold off and wait for a time when you could enjoy us all being together again.”

“You and Finn were right,” Kurt admits. “I’m glad it turned out this way instead.”

“Me, too,” Tina says. “The only downside is Quinn. Finn said she came to the funeral, but she wouldn’t come here. Though who knows, maybe if we’d all gone to the funeral, she wouldn’t have gone to that, either.”

Kurt tries to remember if he saw Quinn there, but the day was such a blur, he can’t recall much of anything. “Why didn’t Quinn come tonight, anyway? Mercedes implied there was some sort of deep, dark reason behind it.”

Tina shrugs and gestures at Finn, Evie, and Rachel. “I don’t know about deep and dark, but there it is. It’s weird, but I have a feeling she’d be okay with Evie. I think it’s seeing Rachel again that bothers her most, even though she and Finn didn’t end up together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Quinn was pretty awful to Rachel throughout high school. She’s grown up enough that she’s not very proud of the person she was.”

“But she lives ten miles from where she grew up, and works in a town full of people who know she got pregnant in high school and gave her baby up for adoption. If her past doesn’t bother her in that situation, how could Rachel Berry bother her so much?”

Tina thinks for a moment. “My best guess? She doesn’t care what most people in Lima think of her because she thinks she’s above them, but she cares about us. She’s past being hurt by their disapproval. We could still hurt her.”

“That does sound like Quinn,” Kurt admits. “How did you become so perceptive? That’s not something you found out on Facebook.”

“I might have been the quiet one in high school, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention. I was quiet because I was listening to everyone. You better watch out, because I know all your high school secrets,” she says with a wicked grin.

“And here I thought it was because you were too busy making out with Mike Chang,” Kurt says.

“That too.”

They both look over to where Mike is standing. He and Tina’s husband are doubled over laughing at something one of them said.

“It’s really nice that you and Mike are still on such good terms,” Kurt says.

“He’s one of my best friends,” Tina says.

Kurt knew that, but to be honest, he’s still trying to figure out how that works. He thinks back to his ex-boyfriends and has a hard time imagining being close friends with any of them now. He lowers his voice. “But you’re happy with your husband?”

“I’m ecstatically, madly in love with Jake,” Tina says, not offended.

“I know I’m getting way too personal, but-how?” Kurt asks. “Apparently Quinn can’t even deal with her ex’s ex, and Blaine and I were terrible at the former lovers-current best friends thing. Then there’s you and Mike, whom I actually did vote as couple most likely to get married…I don’t get it.”

Tina shrugs. “Maybe there’s some psychological reason, but I think mostly it’s just that everyone is different. Plus, for that most likely to get married poll? I totally voted for you and Blaine.”

Kurt’s surprised that he’s blushing. A few moments later, Tina’s daughter apparently decides that Kurt’s cufflinks are more interesting than her napkin, because she’s climbing into his lap and wrapping her little hands as far as they will go around his wrist. Kurt smiles wide, and it’s not just because the little girl is adorable.

“I didn’t realize just how much I’ve missed you guys,” Kurt says to Tina.

“We’ve missed you, too,” Tina says. “Welcome back, Kurt.”

~*~*~

Mama stops shuttling food and plates back and forth between the kitchen and the buffet table to take a moment to survey her handiwork. It really is a lovely party. The sun had gotten low enough that she turned on the twinkly white lights and lanterns a few minutes ago, and the glasses and vases on the tables sparkle in their light. The flowers are beautiful. The women of the Rebecca Circle have outdone themselves, even so short-handed. Best of all, so many people are milling around between the tables: talking, laughing, and greeting her boys with smiles and hugs.

She still can’t shake it, though: her baby deserved a church wedding.

Long ago, when she’d first moved to the States, the church was the first place that hadn’t made her feel foreign and alone. The people here made the sign of the cross the same way they did back home, prayed the same way, took Communion the same way. It was the one place she knew she could go where no one would care if her English wasn’t quite right. It was the place where she’d found someone to commiserate with about how bland the food here was-then Sandy Wo, now Sandra Luzon. It was the first place that people had said to her, “Welcome,” “Peace be with you,” “We’re glad to have you here.”

When Blaine was baptized, she’d silently prayed for two things: that God would welcome her son into the kind of loving community she’d found in His house, and that the church would help her teach Blaine how to be a man. Church would teach him that being a man had nothing to do with that machismo garbage. Being a man was about being kind, helping others, building your family strong, and not being afraid to get on your knees and ask for help sometimes.

Then when Blaine was ten, she’d watched him chase after Garrett Frazer like a lovelorn puppy, and she’d known. She was angry, at first-not at Blaine, never at Blaine-but at God for ignoring her prayer. Because once Blaine figured out who he was for himself…there was no way the church was going to welcome him the way it had her.

She hadn’t stayed angry for long, though. She had straightened her back, set her shoulders, and said, “Fine. You be that way, God. Looks like it’s up to me, then.”

She had done her best. Not everything she’d tried to teach her son had sunken in (not only does Blaine drink coffee, but judging from the number of coffee-related gifts he and Kurt have received, he’s an addict), but she thinks she's done right by him. The fact that so many people have come so far to wish him and Kurt well says something. But she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t worry every now and then if she could have done more.

Her gaze is drawn to Blaine without her consciously searching for him. Even from this far away, she can tell something is weighing heavily on his shoulders. He looks around the yard, lost, until something catches his eye. She watches him study whatever it is, his expression changing from confusion to resolution.

She follows his line of sight. Kurt is sitting at a table with Tina, her daughter perched on his knee. He and the little girl are playing some sort of game. He's happier than she's seen him since the boys came back to Ohio.

By the time she looks back at Blaine, he’s striding across the lawn. He doesn’t go over to Kurt, though. He marches into the house through the French doors. She’s not sure why, but she follows him.

The kitchen is empty; the Rebecca Circle women are all outside enjoying the party. She hears Blaine’s voice in the living room.

“Dad. Hi.” He takes a long, deep breath. “I know this would probably be better if I said it to you rather than to your voicemail, but if I don’t say it right now, I’m afraid I might not ever say it. Why didn’t you fight for me?”

She’s not sure she’s ever heard Blaine talk with this tone of voice. It’s not rude or mean or irrational, but it is angry. It’s an odd thing to be proud of him for, but she is.

“Why didn’t you fight for me, Dad?” he repeats, his voice hitching a little this time. “I know that I didn’t reach out the way I could have, either, but you’re my dad. What we have now, voicemails and cards-I’ve tried to pretend we’re fine, but we’re not. We need to make a change.

“I don’t know if this is meeting you half-way or whether I’m being too demanding, but this is how it is: I have a family of my own, Dad, and you need to decide now whether you want to be a part of it or not. I’m going to be a father someday myself. You’re not going to get to waltz into my kids’ lives when they’re little and cute and then wander away when they don’t live up to your expectations. I know how that feels, and I am not putting my children in a situation where they’re going to be hurt like that.

“So, you’re either in this for the long haul, or you’re not in at all. You’ve got some time before then to prove that you’re willing to make that kind of effort. A few months ago, I married the most amazing man I’ve ever met. I would love for you to meet him. If you’re interested, let me know. If not…I don’t know. I don’t know how we lie to ourselves that everything is okay after this. That’s the point, though.” He sniffs and presses the heel of his hand against his eye. “Love you, Dad.” He hangs up and leans heavily against the fireplace mantle.

She smiles to herself-she should have guessed the confrontation would happen like this. Blaine has always had a problem standing up for himself. That still hasn’t changed too much, but he’s never hesitated to stand up for the people he loves.

Blaine hasn’t seen her standing in the doorway, but now she’s stuck in the awkward position of either announcing her presence or trying to pretend like she’s just now walking in. For some reason, she really doesn’t feel like lying anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” she says.

Blaine jumps at her voice, but he doesn’t look upset that she was listening in. “Exactly how much did you hear?”

“Enough.” She crosses the room and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight. “You are going to be such a good daddy.”

He gives his nervous little laugh that he does when he’s overwhelmed. “That’s going to be a long time yet. What with moving, and both of us getting our careers started, and not even counting adoption costs, kids are expensive-”

“I know that.”

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up too soon and be disappointed.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She pulls back enough so she can reach up and cup his face. “You won’t disappoint me. I know I made a big deal about the wedding and this party, but honestly, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says. “I should probably get back out there. I came in to grab the iPod dock, too. Finn’s finally convinced Kurt that we should have a little music.”

She knows that must mean Kurt is comfortable and actually enjoying himself. “Good.”

Blaine leaves the room in one direction, heading upstairs. She goes the other way, back through the kitchen and out the French doors. She can’t help but think that there’s something fulfilling about hearing that your child wants to have his own children, beyond the admittedly wonderful prospect of grandchildren. If her son wants to be a parent, he must have seen from her that, even though it’s a tough job, it is worth it.

Blaine emerges from the house not long after, iPod sound system in his arms. He heads over to where Tina, Kurt, and now Finn are sitting, and after a little discussion, Kurt and Finn are up and helping him set the player up on an empty table. Their friends see it and start to converge, all smiles and excited chatter. She can’t hear what they say, but she can tell there’s some discussion about what to play first. Kurt makes a suggestion, and the others think it’s perfect.

She laughs when “Raise Your Glass” starts to play.

Before the end of the first chorus, all the kids from Kurt’s and Blaine’s glee clubs are singing and dancing and pulling their husbands and wives and boyfriends and girlfriends and children into the melee. Her boys are right in the middle of it all, so happy with each other and with the people around them.

She lifts her gaze to the darkening sky for a moment. She’s not sure she wants to give God credit for this one-she’s always thought “the Lord works in mysterious ways” is crap. But she’s happy Blaine has gotten what she’d wanted for him at his baptism, even if it’s not quite how she’d envisioned it.

She gives up on introspection when Kurt grabs her hand and spins her as “Dog Days are Over” begins to play.

~*~*~

Kurt and Carole are still giggling over Carole joining Santana, Mercedes, and Brittany on “Candyman” long after the song ends, even as they slip away from the dancing crowd and sit at an empty table.

“Sorry to pull you away from all the fun, but I wanted to talk to you about your gift,” Carole says.

“We love the coffeemaker. Please don’t worry about Mrs. Anderson’s reaction to it,” Kurt says, nearly talking over her to reassure her. “I should have warned you about her vendetta against caffeine.”

Carole smiles. “I’m glad you liked it, but that wasn’t my real gift to you.”

Kurt arches an eyebrow and responds playfully, “A decoy gift? Now you’ve got me curious.”

He’s curious, but nervous, too. A coffeemaker is a safe gift-practical and unsentimental. Judging by the look on Carole’s face, this gift is not. He’s really not sure he’ll be able to keep it together if she gives him something that was Dad’s. “Should I get Blaine?”

“No,” Carole says. She pulls out an envelope. “The gift is for both of you, but I want to explain it to you first.” She hands the envelope to him. “I wasn’t sure how to express it, so I made these, but…”

Kurt pulls out what look like two airplane tickets, one with his name on it, one with Blaine’s. Typed under “place of departure” are the words, “Wherever Life Takes You.” The destination is “HOME-Carole’s Place.”

Kurt looks up, blinking back tears. At least for once they’re happy tears.

Carole reaches across the table and takes his hand. “You’re not going to worry about things like how much it costs-if you want to come home for a while, you just tell me, and I’ll make it happen. Or if you want me to come out to you, help you settle in to your new home, I’m there, okay? What I’m trying to say, Kurt, is that it doesn’t matter that we’re selling the house. You will always, always have a place to come home to, wherever I’m at.”

Kurt stands up, moves to the other side of the table, and hugs Carole tight. “Thank you.”

He sits down beside her this time. He knows this is the part where Carole should say something about how his dad would be so happy for him, but she doesn’t. Kurt’s grateful for her thoughtfulness. But Dad belongs here, too. He deserves to be a part of today.

“Can you imagine Dad dancing to this?” Kurt says when “Edge of Glory” starts to play.

Carole smiles and shakes her head. “Yes, I can. He would’ve done his personal variation of the Macarena.”

Kurt grins. “He danced to nearly everything with his personal variation of the Macarena.”

“Pretty much.”

Kurt stands and extends his hand to Carole. “Shall we get back to getting our groove on?”

Carole nods and primly accepts his invitation. “I think we shall.”

~*~*~

There will be many, many photos of the party posted on Facebook. Kurt will sign on to his account for the first time in months to look through them all. He’ll pick out his favorites to put in an actual, physical scrapbook, though, because he likes having tangible reminders.

There will be group photos of every possible combination of Warblers, New Directions, Rebecca Circlers, and family members with the happy couple. There will be blackmail-worthy photos of many of the guests dancing, made all the more embarrassing because no one has the excuse of drunkenness for their ridiculous moves. There will be photos of the guests clinking glasses with silverware, followed by a handful of the many, many photos of him and Blaine kissing, and a photo of Kurt threatening Mercedes and Rachel if they don’t stop clinking the damn glasses. (“That’s the last time, or I’ll take those forks away and you’ll have to eat the teriyaki noodles with your fingers.” “My cousin made her wedding guests sing a song to get her and her husband to kiss, to cut down on how many times they’d have to do it.” “Oh good god, Blaine, with this crowd? We’d have no lips left by the end of the night!”) There will be a photo of Carole and Mrs. Anderson standing arm-in-arm beside the chuppah, proud of their handiwork.

Kurt’s favorite of all of them will be a series of photos that Tina takes. It will start with one of Kurt and Blaine standing under the chuppah, on either side of the doves’ cage. The next will be of each holding a dove and walking out from under the canopy, followed by a photo of them holding the doves out to one another as if the birds are kissing. The last one will be of two white, feathered blurs just above their heads, with a crowd around them, cheering them on.

Blaine was right about the doves.

~*~*~

“Oh my god, Blaine, what are we going to do with all these toasters?” Kurt whines as he stands naked in the middle of several piles of boxes. They’ve hauled all their gifts up to Blaine’s room, and since his mom and Carole shooed them away from clean-up duties, they have locked themselves in, opened Puck’s gift, and started down the path of getting drunk (though quietly drunk, so his mother doesn’t find out). How exactly he and Kurt lost their clothes in the process, Blaine can’t quite remember.

“We return some,” Blaine says as he takes another sip of absinthe and sits back against the headboard. Not wanting to go back downstairs, they had dug through their pile of gifts in the hope that someone had given them shot glasses. All they’d found were wine goblets.

“But how do we choose, Blaine? How?” Kurt says, spinning around so quickly the green liquid almost slops out over the edge of his glass. Maybe the wine goblets hadn’t been the greatest idea, Blaine thinks.

“We keep whichever one doesn’t have a gift receipt?”

Kurt gasps. “You are so smart.”

“Would’ve been smarter to do a gift registry, avoid the five toaster problem to begin with.”

Kurt climbs onto the bed and walks up it on his knees. “We did say no gifts. How could we have known nobody would listen to us?” Blaine holds Kurt’s glass for him while he turns and flops down on the bed beside him, then gives it back.

Blaine shrugs. “We could’ve done the Money Dance instead. Ow!” Kurt playfully slaps his arm.

Kurt’s already forgotten to be annoyed by the time he takes another sip. “I love this stuff. I really don’t want to see little winged green Rachels, but if that’s the price I have to pay, I’ll pay it.”

“What?”

“She’s the Green Fairy. Moulin Rouge! Come on Blaine, keep up.” Blaine looks at him in confusion. Kurt adds, “No, seriously, keep up. I’m a drink ahead of you.” He reaches across Blaine for the bottle and pours both of them a little more. “In college, when I had to read A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I totally pictured Puck as Puck. I mean our Puck as the fairy Puck.” They both giggle. “Wouldn’t mind seeing him in the Green Fairy dress.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow at that. “Did you ever have a crush on Puck?”

“Yep,” Kurt says with a nod. Then he stares at the ceiling and adds, “Not so much a crush, since he crushed any romantic fantasies every time he opened his mouth. More like a recurring wet dream.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Oh no. I had way more sex fantasies and dreams about you than anybody else.” Kurt sets his drink on the bedside table and starts pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Blaine’s neck. Blaine’s caught up in enjoying it until he feels Kurt slide his hand under the covers.

Blaine says, “Wait, wait. Isn’t it-the night is young, why hurry into that?”

Kurt stops kissing, but he doesn’t bring his head up from the crook of Blaine’s neck. “Huh? Being horny always makes you drunk. Er, other way around, but-yeah.”

“I dunno. I feel weird doing it…here.”

Kurt’s head pops up at that. “You had no problem having sex in my childhood bedroom.”

“It’s not the place so much as…my mom might hear us. Thinking of her hearing me…that’s weird.”

Kurt cocks his head to the side. “Who cares? We’re married. We’re supposed to have sex. In some countries, we’d be hanging a bloody bed sheet out our window to prove we had sex.”

Blaine puts a hand to his head and tries to remember how they got to the topic of bed sheets. “We wouldn’t hang sheets out our window.”

“Of course not. We’re not virgins, not to mention it’s tacky.” Blaine throws his hands up in confusion and defeat. Kurt sighs and sits back down on his side of the bed. “Fine. We’ll wait until we’re sure your mom is asleep. But after that, you are keelhauling me through this goddamned mattress, you hear me?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Blaine says, mock-saluting.

“Good.”

Kurt picks up his drink again, and this time notices something under it. It’s a white envelope with their names on it. “Did you bring this one up?”

“No,” Blaine says. “We put all the envelopes on the dresser.” He takes a better look. “This is my mom’s handwriting.”

Blaine opens it while Kurt leans on his shoulder to get a better view. He pulls out a check, and his eyes go wide. He looks at Kurt and sees his jaw is hanging.

It’s not the amount that has Blaine so shocked, though it’s certainly generous. It’s the inscription at the bottom of the check, written in a different color of ink than the rest: “Down Payment for Baby, Whenever You’re Ready. I Love My Sons. Mama.”

“Wow,” Kurt says. He’s suddenly looking a lot more sober. “Do you think maybe she’s calling you ‘Baby’ and just put the comma in the wrong place?”

“No, I’m pretty sure she means ‘down payment for a baby.’ Wow.” He turns to Kurt and looks in his eyes. “We’re really going to do this, Kurt. Not tomorrow, but someday…”

“We are,” Kurt soothes, taking the check from Blaine’s hand, setting it aside, and then threading their fingers together. “We’re going to have a great life. I have absolutely no idea how it’s going to turn out, but I know it’s going to be great.”

Blaine blames the alcohol for making him say it, but he says, “You have more faith than any other atheist I’ve ever met.”

“That’s different,” Kurt answers simply. “I have faith in us.”

~*~*~

Carole sighs heavily when she finally sits down. The party rental people are taking down the tables and chairs, so she’ll have to give up her seat to them eventually, but she really doesn’t care at this point.

She’s surprised that Mrs. Anderson, who has had seemingly boundless energy all night, looks as tired as Carole feels when she walks back into the yard after seeing off the dove-keeper. Also rather surprisingly, Mrs. Anderson is approaching her with a bottle and two glasses.

“The Rebecca Circle took care of the kitchen, so I think we have everything done except taking down the chuppah,” she says as she sits down on the other side of the table. “I think maybe we should just get the canopy off, then make the boys take down the poles tomorrow.”

Carole’s back twinges in pain at the mere thought of doing any more physical labor tonight. She’s regretting not making Finn stay to help with clean-up. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”’

Mrs. Anderson nods resolutely, sets the glasses on the table, and pours. They drink, and Carole can’t help but be a little disappointed-though certainly not surprised-that it’s sparkling cider.

“It was a great party,” Carole says, not really sure what to talk about. “Perfect.”

“It was. And please, thank Finn for convincing Kurt to have music. I know Kurt said he didn’t want it, but they had so much fun dancing and singing.” Mrs. Anderson hums contentedly. “Yes, it was very nice. Except for those three strange blonds who crawled all over each other. Horrible table manners.” She finishes the sentence with a shiver.

Carole chuckles low in her throat. “Did you know that, long ago, one of them was Kurt’s girlfriend?”

Mrs. Anderson’s jaw drops. “Not only did he date a girl, but one of those girls?”

“It was a misguided attempt to bond with Burt.” She shakes her head. “The things that kid would do for his dad.”

Mrs. Anderson smiles ruefully. “Blaine never really dated a girl.” Carole still remembers Kurt moping about Rachel and Blaine’s one movie-date, but now is hardly the time to bring that up. “He wouldn’t compromise on who he loved, not even for his dad, but he did on almost everything else.”

Carole doesn’t know much about Blaine’s father, just that things fell apart around the time Blaine was beaten up at his old school, and that they didn’t talk much anymore. She knows Blaine well enough to fill in the blanks, though. His attempts to be the right kind of son would’ve been subtler than Kurt’s, but no less desperate. Kurt’s melodrama had saved him, in a way-he’d been so transparent that Burt had been able to put a stop to it pretty quickly. She suspects Blaine languished in his equivalent of flannel and Mellencamp for a lot longer.

Mrs. Anderson looks up at the house, toward what Carole assumes is Blaine’s bedroom window. “It was a nice party. Maybe not perfect, since…well. But we did a good job, you and me and the Rebecca Circle.” She quirks her eyebrows in a way that reminds Carole of Blaine. “Do they still call it ‘girl power’?”

Carole laughs. “I have no idea, but I’d still call it that, at least.”

“I think we should toast us,” Mrs. Anderson says as she leans forward in her chair. “The boys got plenty of toasts today. We deserve one.”

Carole smiles. They’ve worked their asses off. Frankly, they deserve a free trip to a day spa, but a toast will have to do.

“To girl power,” Carole says, raising her glass. “We may not have been perfect, but if the results are any indication, we did a damn good job. And not just with the party.”

“To girl power,” Mrs. Anderson says and clinks her glass to Carole’s.

~*~*~

Kurt startles awake. The room is dark, and the only sound is his heavy breathing.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, breath steadying. “I can’t even remember what the dream was. Blaine?”

Only then does he reach out and realize the other side of the bed is empty. His heart leaps again.

In a few seconds, his sleep-muddled brain kicks in, and it registers that Blaine is probably just in the bathroom. That doesn’t keep Kurt from thinking of what Carole said about getting half-way through a conversation before remembering the man who had shared her bed was gone.

Someday, in all likelihood, Kurt will wake up alone in bed, and Blaine won’t be coming back.

The door creaks open, and light from the hall hits Kurt’s face. Apparently Kurt didn’t control his expression quickly enough, because Blaine sounds extremely guilty and concerned as he closes the door and comes back to bed.

“I’m so sorry I woke you. I know how much you hate getting woken by the phone ringing at night, so I put it on vibrate under my pillow, and I swore you were still asleep when I answered it-”

“It’s fine. You didn’t wake me,” Kurt reassures. He looks at the clock on the nightstand. “But colleges don’t call with job offers at five in the morning, do they?”

Kurt hears the rustle of sheets beside him as Blaine crawls back into bed. His cold feet brush against Kurt’s bare legs and make him shiver.

“It was my dad,” Blaine says. “He wanted to call before he went in to work, and he wanted to be sure we had time to talk.”

Kurt draws back in disbelief. “Your father said that? And just-out of the blue, too?”

“Not exactly out of the blue. I, uh…I left him a rather…forcefully-worded voicemail this evening.”

“You confronted him?” Kurt says, even more shocked.

“Well, it was a voicemail, so it wasn’t really a confrontation, and I kind of…playing the grandkids card is a cheap shot, but it’s not so cheap if you really mean it, right? Anyway, I don’t think you could say we resolved anything. But we did get a few things out in the open that we should have years ago.”

Kurt couldn’t care less about the quality or fairness of Blaine’s argument. “I am so, so proud of you.”

“Proud?” Blaine says, a note of awe in his voice. Then he clears his throat. “He wants us to visit. I’ve been burned enough times that I’m not comfortable committing us to staying in his home.”

“We can afford a hotel for a few nights,” Kurt says. Even without being able to see Blaine’s face in the dark, Kurt can tell from his posture and presence that that’s not enough. “Or maybe we could meet in neutral territory. Sam invited us to visit his farm in Tennessee. I can’t think of any other reason I’d visit a farm, so we’d be killing two awkward-visit birds with one stone.”

Kurt expects Blaine to laugh, but his voice is quite serious. “I like that idea. I’ll ask my dad. I think that might work.” Blaine sighs. “I’m not trying to shut you out, and I promise we can talk more about it later, but I really just want to go back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Blaine burrows under the covers and rests his head against Kurt’s chest. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I ever would have done this if it wasn’t for you, and for Burt.”

A smile tugs at Kurt’s lips. As he cards his fingers gently through Blaine’s hair, he thinks to himself that as scary as the thought of waking up without him someday may be, all the nights he’ll fall asleep with him like this will make it more than worth it.

~*~*~

They’ve returned to Lima, and Blaine knows this is truly their last day there. Kurt has gone to the shop to finish his work, and Blaine could tell when he left this morning that Kurt is ready to move on. Exactly where they’ll be moving on to is still a little fuzzy, but Blaine tries not to think about that part.

Blaine breathes in the sharp, cold morning air and picks up the pace. The only sounds on the empty street are the slap of his running shoes against the pavement and the rustle of budding tree branches in the breeze.

It feels different being back in Lima this time. It’s mostly because Kurt seems so much more at peace with this place than Blaine has ever seen him. The funny thing is, now it’s Blaine who doesn’t feel quite ready to leave, and he’s not sure why. It’s not even his hometown. Blaine would never have known of Lima as anything more than a dot on a map but for Kurt.

When the answer hits him, it literally stops him dead in his tracks. He turns around and jogs back to the intersection, then turns left, out towards the edge of town.

He finds himself standing almost exactly where Kurt had been less than a week ago. The grass is green, the breeze is sweet with the smell of crabapple blossoms, and the headstones shine in the sun. He crouches down in front of the two memorials and places his hands on the sun-warmed stone.

He whispers, “Thank you so much for him. You would be so proud of him. Thank you.”

He stays there for a few more moments of silence, then smiles and gets up to leave.

~*~*~

They’re headed out of Lima toward Highway 65 South. Kurt tries to take a nostalgic look back at his hometown receding in the rearview mirror, but even though they’d left a lot of their stuff at Mrs. Anderson’s house, the pile of bags in the backseat obstructs his view. That’s fine, Kurt decides. He was only doing it for the drama of the moment, anyway.

He faces front again and places his hand over Blaine’s on the gear shift. Blaine flicks a warm smile at him before his eyes return to the road.

“Too Thelma and Louise for your taste?” Kurt teases, squeezing Blaine’s hand.

Blaine’s smile wavers. “Funny you should mention driving off a cliff. That’s kind of what this feels like.”

Kurt sighs. “We’re doing all we can do, Blaine. You have no control over what your dad does or doesn’t do, okay? If you want to worry about something, let’s worry about what we’re going to do if Sam invites us on a hayride.”

“I love hayrides.”

“I love you.”

It’s not something Kurt does very often, saying it out of nowhere like that. When he sees the utterly beautiful, verging on verklempt look on Blaine’s face, he thinks maybe he should do it more often.

“I love you, too,” Blaine murmurs. They sit quietly for a while, just listening to the radio, until Blaine asks, “How are you doing?”

“All right,” Kurt answers slowly. The garage and the house are both on the market. Ernie had expressed interest in the former, and Quinn already had a young family lined up to view the latter. Carole had hugged Kurt long and hard before they left that morning, whispered in his ear, ‘hang in there, sweetheart,’ and promised to make that call when he and Blaine settled down somewhere. “Better than I’ve been in a long time, I think.”

He still misses his dad, and he doubts that pain will ever go away. He’s not sure he’d want it to. What hurts the most now is that there are going to be so many things in Kurt’s life that he’ll want to share with him. He thinks about what Dad would’ve looked like cradling a baby in his arms, what he would’ve looked like holding Kurt’s child, and that loss hurts so much more than the idea of a wedding without him. But that’s okay. It’s not going to stop Kurt from going after what he wants.

Blaine’s phone rings. Kurt picks it up without thinking, and he nearly drops it when he sees the area code.

“Oh my god. Pull over.”

“What? Are you okay? Did-did someone die?” Blaine asks, panic in his voice.

“No, but I’m not going to let you answer this while you’re driving, because I’d like us to avoid dying in a car crash at least long enough to celebrate you getting a job.”

“What!” Blaine grabs blindly for the phone, but Kurt pulls it away.

“I’m serious, pull over!” he almost laughs.

“Fine, but don’t let it go to voicemail!” Blaine says, signaling and braking a little too quickly.

Kurt answers, and the voice on the other end is professional but warm. Kurt says, “Yes, he’s here. Wait just a moment, please.”

Blaine has finally managed to park the car on the shoulder of the road. Kurt sees his hand is trembling when he reaches for the phone.

“Hello? Yes, yes I remember-how are you? Good, thank you. Yes?” He reaches out for Kurt’s hand and squeezes hard. Kurt can tell the moment the woman on the phone offers the job from the way the tension evaporates from Blaine’s face. In fact, he’s a little afraid Blaine might pass out. “Yes, yes! Absolutely. I am so grateful for this opportunity, and-thank you. Yeah, of course. No, I don’t-I’ll let you know if I do once I get the letter from you with the details, but otherwise, no. That’s fine. Thank you. Me, too. Thanks again. Good-bye.”

In his eagerness to pull Kurt into a crushing hug, Blaine loses his grip on his phone and ends up flinging it into the backseat. It doesn’t matter. Blaine’s body is shaking in Kurt’s arms.

Finally, Blaine says, “Just think, once we’re done with this visit with my dad, we can go house-hunting. Well, we won’t have money from the garage or Carole’s house yet, so it’ll be more like crappy month-to-month lease apartment-hunting, but-”

“But we can go home,” Kurt finishes. He pulls away from Blaine far enough to see his face, and to cup his cheek with his hand.

He looks into Blaine’s eyes, and he knows they’re home already.