Glee 1. Chapter 1

**December 11, 2012**

Kurt Hummel entered his New York apartment, pausing only to remove his shoes before moving into the living room, dropping his black duffle bag on the floor, and collapsing onto the couch. The clock reminded him that it was not quite 6:00pm, but considering that they were far enough North near the middle of December, darkness shadowed the sun more than an hour ago. Only the constant glow of city lights filtered through the windows to illuminate the cozy space, no sound in the apartment apart from outside raucous and Kurt's even breathing. Falling asleep right here seemed like such a simple option, but he knew it would prove a regrettable choice once he awoke. Instead he allowed himself a few minutes of relaxation; just enough time to let the tension in his muscles dissipate a bit. Sighing, he forced himself into a vertical position, moving toward the bathroom for a quick shower before starting on the stir fry he planned to make for dinner.

Elated as he felt to be a NYADA student there was no denying that a long 3 ½ years stretched ahead of him. Three months into the program he already felt like he might tip over at any minute, without warning. Between the bookwork, acting workshops, dance classes and late nights spent finishing homework five days a week, by the time Friday nights rolled around Kurt rarely made it to 9:00pm before passing out. Fortunately his roommate and boyfriend of over a year, Sebastian, understood this exhaustion and never complained about Kurt being dead to the world at the end of the school week. After all, on weekends he always made up for what Sebastian fondly referred to as his "old man behavior."

However this particular Friday evening Kurt, though physically drained, felt abuzz with an unusual amount of energy. He smiled as hot water streamed across the pale planes of his faintly aching body and steam swirled delicately around him. Happily, he reflected on the steps that led him to this moment, this night, this plan he concocted.

Sebastian transferred to Dalton during their junior year. They shared a few classes, but for the first few weeks Kurt found the new boy abrasive and rude, most often choosing to ignore his snide comments about pretty much everything. As a cruel twist of fate they ended up partners for a two week history project, forcing them to interact. Much to Kurt's surprise, the experience wasn't as awful as he expected. Sure, the first couple of days were rough, adjusting to Sebastian's nicknames and air of arrogance. Soon enough, however, they fell into a routine of comfortable teasing and vaguely flirtatious banter, ultimately completing the project and receiving the highest grade in the class. Afterward, the new friends became nearly inseparable. Towards the end of the summer before their senior year, Sebastian finally bit the bullet and asked his best friend out on a date. Kurt agreed, and the two were together from there on out.

When Kurt was accepted to NYADA and Sebastian received his acceptance to NYU, the couple never even considered the idea that they wouldn't move in together. The Smythe family could more than afford a small apartment for the couple and happily did so, claiming that the two should be allowed the freedom to focus on school during their freshman year, rather than finding jobs right away. Both boys agreed to make the move in July, giving them time to get comfortable and adjust to their new surroundings before school started in Fall. Kurt remembers this as the best summer of his life; exploring the city, decorating the apartment, and spending copious amounts of time naked with his gorgeous boyfriend.

Once school began, they quickly settled into their separate routines. At times one would grow frustrated by lack of attention from the other, but each argument was resolved with the acceptance of the fact that they were in New York first and foremost to complete their educations. Both made sure to carve time out for each other. Whenever possible they would eat dinner together, Kurt doing the cooking or Sebastian ordering the takeout. As often as possible they set aside a string of consecutive hours on Saturdays or Sundays to either go out on the town or lounge around the apartment in their pajamas while watching movies. Even though they were often tired by the end of any given day, their sex life was still plenty satisfying. True, the frequency of their intimate moments dwindled considerably at the end of summer, but when the opportunity presented itself each man certainly made the most of it. Life together became progressively more comfortable every passing day, rendering Kurt incapable of imagining a future without Sebastian by his side in this domestic and intimate, albeit sometimes difficult, way.

Their shared history led Kurt to this current moment, rinsing the last globs of conditioner from his freshly nourished hair and mentally rummaging through his closet for an outfit to change in to. He stepped out of the tub to dry off, proceeding to moisturize his newly scrubbed skin and manipulate his hair into its signature up-do style. Deciding exactly what to wear, he padded to the shared bedroom and made a beeline for each article of clothing. After donning a pair of simple black skinny jeans, crisp white button-up shirt and smart, classic gray vest, he added an understated gold pin featuring an interminable bird taking flight. Appraising himself in the mirror and deeming the look satisfactory, Kurt slipped one last thing into his pocket before moving out to the kitchen. Feeling slightly giddy, he grabbed an apron and assembled necessary ingredients and cooking implements before placing his iPod on the dock, selecting an upbeat playlist. Humming along to the music and merrily chopping vegetables, the man considered the rest of his evening, choosing to focus only on positive potential outcomes. Tonight would be perfect, both for himself and his boyfriend. He felt sure of it.

Shortly before 8:00pm, Kurt heard the front door open.

"Hey babe, sorry I'm late," boomed Sebastian's voice as he bent over to untie the laces of his patent leather Oxfords, "what do you want me to order for dinner toni…"

He stopped mid-word, sniffing the air. The scent of brown rice and their favorite teriyaki sauce tickled his nose. Unless he was mistaken, the smell of beef mixed in with the smell of succulent vegetables. Kurt never brought red meat in to the household; a fact Sebastian long-since learned to deal with by occasionally sneaking off for a burger during lunch breaks at school or going for a steak when his boyfriend was out for the night. Sebastian wracked his brain for any reasonable scenario that would cause Kurt to make this extremely rare exception tonight. It wasn't their anniversary, both of their birthdays weren't until Spring and to Sebastian's knowledge Kurt hadn't done anything to feel guilty about or try to make up for. Maybe he had some bit of good news to celebrate?

Striding around the corner in to the part of the living room designated as their dining area, Sebastian found Kurt standing beside a fully set table, complete with candles, steaming bowls of mouthwatering food, wineglasses and a bottle of decent cabernet sauvignon.

Sebastian quickly schooled his involuntary look of surprise into a sly smile, stepping forward to embrace Kurt and place a sweet kiss to his soft lips.

"What's all this? You never cook on Fridays. Honestly I expected to find you moisturizing and getting ready for bed."

Kurt grinned in return.

"Well, let's just say I felt particularly alert when I got home. I figured I might as well put that energy to use."

Not wasting an opportunity to use the gift of his expressive eyebrows, Sebastian's smile turned into something more akin to a smirk.

"Feeling alert, eh?"

Even after all this time, Sebastian still knew how to make the other man blush.

Predictably flushing red, Kurt batted him away playfully.

"You know what I meant, 'Bas. I just thought it'd be nice to change up the Friday routine a bit."

Laughing, Sebastian pulled him in for another quick kiss before the two sat down at the table.

For the next 45 minutes they sipped wine and took their time savoring the delicious meal laid out before them. Each told stories of their week that they had yet to share, making inquiries at certain points and laughing at the appropriate anecdotes. It was easy and pleasant in a way they rarely experienced together on weekdays. Finally Sebastian's curiosity won out. Drinking the little wine remaining in his glass before setting it down, he posed the question he'd wanted to ask since arriving home.

"Babe," he began, catching Kurt's eyes as they met his and staring purposefully into them, "I know something's up. You haven't cooked on a Friday since summer, and I don't remember a time that I ever saw you make anything with red meat. Care to tell me what the occasion is?"

Kurt drew a deeper than normal breath. He knew there was no more putting this part of the night off. Butterflies unlike any he ever felt before flooded his entire being, battering away at his insides with every fluttering beat of their wings. As Sebastian continued staring intently at him, Kurt reached his hand across the table, silently inviting his lover to take hold of it. Sebastian obliged, lacing their fingers together without removing his steady gaze. Another breath and Kurt began,

"Sebastian, I know that in the grand scheme of things we haven't been together all that long, but you already know how deeply I've fallen in love with you. In spite of all our rough patches, especially since we started living together and began to form our own lives, at the end of every day I'm always glad that you're the person I fall asleep next to."

"Except for the nights one of us falls asleep on the couch," Sebastian interjected in an amused tone.

Chuckling, Kurt conceded,

"Well, yes, except for those times. My point is that I love you more than I possess words to describe, and I can't fathom a future that doesn't include you… that doesn't include us."

Kurt shifted to remove the object in his pocket, and in those couple of seconds, realization dawned on Sebastian about what was likely to happen next.

Releasing Sebastian's hand and standing, Kurt closed the short distance around the table, fist clenched around a small something. Dropping to one knee beside his boyfriend's chair, Kurt looked up at the currently shell-shocked man whom he loved more than anything in the world.

"Sebastian Smythe," he began, opening his hand and holding up a gold band whose gleaming metal reflected the flickering candlelight. Smiling uncontrollably and very near tears, Kurt continued, "Will you marry me?"

**December 13, 2012**

Kurt blinked, eyelids leaden and head throbbing. Blindingly white light did his senses no favors as he waited for the world to stop spinning so that he might take stock of his surroundings. Mustering the strength to open his eyes fully, he could tell that he was lying in an unfamiliar room, although everything still appeared a little blurry around the edges. He attempted to brace himself on his right arm in order to push up into a sitting position, only to find the limb too heavy to maneuver with his considerably limited strength. Without even the wherewithal to panic, he simply felt bewildered and wondered vaguely when anything would start making some sense.

"Kurt?"

Confused though he might be, he recognized the sound of his dad's voice. Sure enough, Burt swam into view, his expression a combination of concern and relief.

"Dad," he croaked, voice hoarse from disuse, "where am I? What's going on?"

"You took quite a fall, bud. Hit your head hard and broke your right arm, too."

"When did I do that? Where am I?

Burt sighed,

"Two days ago, you've been out ever since. You're in the hospital."

He couldn't remember this fall that his dad was talking about, but he guessed it made sense. At least that explained where he was.

"Where's Carole? Is she on duty?"

Any relief in Burt's features vanished, consumed entirely by the concern that previously scored only the edges of his face.

"Where do you think you are, kid?"

Much more alert than when he first came to, this seemed like a silly question to Kurt.

"Aren't I in Lima? Or Westerville?"

Concern gave way completely to sadness as Burt shook his head.

"No, Kurt. You're not."


	2. Chapter 2

The four days following Kurt's hospitalization oscillated between tolerably miserable and entirely unbearable on a minute-by-minute basis. Between the physical ache present in every inch of his body and the constant restlessness induced by desperately trying to reach into corners of his mind that now hid behind locked doors, nothing short of heavy sedatives could pull him down into sleep during the first two nights. Burt stood vigil at his bedside with the exception of bathroom breaks, phone calls and the inevitable need for food. Carole called at least three times every day for updates, always asking if they were both _sure_ she didn't need to come up there, to which both men assured her that everything was being handled. Finn also offered to fly over, but Burt steadfastly forbade it. With only a few days of school at Ohio State and just a couple of final exams left, he insisted that Finn stick it out, promising that his stepson would see Kurt at Christmas.

Burt took great care not to push Kurt into remembering anything, at times going so far as refusing to answer some of the questions directed at him by his son. On the first day they agreed that it was better for Burt to sometimes simply deny Kurt answers, rather than lie to him. It broke the man's heart to see his kid's face fall whenever he responded to a question with a soft shake of his head, or helplessly watch free-flowing tears of frustration when the boy teetered on the precipice of a memory but couldn't quite see over the cliff's edge. Kurt's anger and disappointment might ebb for brief moments, simmering rather than boiling, but for the most part these emotions appeared painfully clear in each word and expression.

From what he could piece together from conversations with his dad, he was missing everything starting somewhere in the summer after his junior year up through the day he awoke in the hospital. He couldn't remember receiving an acceptance letter to the college of his dreams, his graduation, his first day in New York, anything about his classes, or even the new friends that Burt spent hours conversing with on Kurt's phone, doling out updates and gently advising them not to visit. The whole scenario seemed entirely unreal. Here he was in New York with an entirely new life built for him, friends he couldn't possibly have imagined meeting only five months previous and experiences that he probably never dreamed of; yet, he knew nothing about it.

Also on that first day, Burt provided Kurt with more details about the accident that landed him in this wretched situation.

"I ain't gonna sugar coat this, bud. Obviously I wasn't there, but what they told me is that a witness saw you come out of an apartment building, movin' pretty quickly. Being winter and all, the couple a' steps down to the sidewalk were really slick. You slipped, hit the concrete head first, and tumbled down the stairs- that's how your arm broke."

Kurt winced, which only served to stretch the skin on his scalp and cause the massive bruise to twinge. Phantom pains doubled on top of very real pain at the thought of such an incident and a plethora of new questions joined the hundreds already swamping his mind. Where was this apartment? Was he visiting someone? If so, who? Or did it happen outside his place? What was he doing that night to begin with? Why was he in such a hurry, especially since he must have known the stoop would be covered with ice? For the umpteenth time in 24 hours, he clawed uselessly at his head and cried, falling in to Burt's warm embrace and being slowly rocked until a tentative calm finally took over his spent mind.

On the second day Kurt asked where in the city he lived. Obviously if he'd been in school he was living somewhere, which meant that a building existed where his things were stored. He probably even had a roommate or two out there. Burt swore to him that everything was being taken care of and that he shouldn't worry about it. This did nothing to quell Kurt's anxiety. What was going to happen when he was cleared to leave the hospital? He couldn't possibly plunge right back in to a life he knew nothing about with people who would appear to him as strangers. These fears were verbalized through sobs and hiccups, with his dad's soft voice explaining that he would be taking Kurt back to Ohio for awhile and that his possessions were being packed up by people he promised were the boy's friends, even if he didn't know them right now. He explained that, should Kurt feel up to it, his spot at NYADA would be waiting for him in September. Because this whole incident occurred right before finals, unfortunately his entire semester was essentially null and void, as he wouldn't be able to pass any classes without taking the tests- even if he could actually remember a scrap of the material. This news left him both grateful and disappointed. At least he had somewhere to go in the future, but it also meant that the last few months were a pointless waste of his time and money. Though, at this point, it felt like the last two years of his life were a nothing except waste of time.

On the morning of Kurt's scheduled release, a nurse called Burt into the hallway, explaining that a man who wished to speak with him was waiting outside. As Kurt slowly ate breakfast, clumsy without the use of his right arm, the sound of raised voices filtered through the door. Though he couldn't discern individual words, it was evident that one voice belonged to his dad. A few minutes later, Burt reappeared, a bit red in the face and carrying a duffel bag.

"Dad?" Kurt asked timidly, "Are you ok?"

Burt used a free hand to push up the brim of his baseball cap slightly and rub his eyes before answering.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm fine."

Doubtful of this answer, but knowing better than to risk pushing the matter, Kurt asked,

"Who was that?"

"Just one of your friends. He brought over some clothes and a few other things so that you can get ready for the plane ride."

Still perplexed and caving in to curiosity, the boy continued his line of inquiry,

"I know you were yelling. I heard you. What was that about?"

Burt rubbed at his face more vigorously than before, clearly flustered as he wracked his brain for a suitable response. This definitely wasn't an appropriate time for the whole truth to come out, but nor could he avoid providing an answer, and lying wouldn't solve anything either.

"This guy used to be a very close friend of yours and he's worried about you almost as much as I am. We're both just angry and tired, so we kinda snapped and took it out on each other for a minute." As much as he wanted to tack the words "everything is fine" on the end of his explanation, the older man knew they counted as a lie, so he bit back the hollow affirmation.

Knowing that his father probably wouldn't answer, Kurt couldn't help trying anyway. He proceeded to rush out the next words,

"Who was it? Maybe if you give me a name I'll remem…"

Holding up one hand, Burt cut him off, shaking his head with eyes closed.

"Not today, kiddo. I'm sorry."

Kurt sighed, unsurprised. Dutifully he accepted the bag handed to him, extracting the yoga pants, boxers, t-shirt and Dalton hoodie inside. The idea of going out in public like this made him cringe, but considering the trying day ahead of him combined with his general apathy towards everything right now, he wasn't going to fight. Once Burt helped him seal his cast in plastic wrap, he slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom to shower and change before being discharged. Under the mercifully soothing spray of water, Kurt managed to find the one bright spot in his situation. If he couldn't remember New York, at least Ohio might offer him the comfort of feeling like home. It was small consolation, all things considered, but it was a pinprick of light at the end of the long tunnel of this past week.

Kurt slowly dried off before struggling into clothes for the first time since being placed in the cumbersome cast. Without bothering to do more than run a comb quickly through his hair, he brushed his teeth and staunchly avoided looking in the mirror any longer than necessary. Upon reemerging his dad removed the wrapping, slipped socks onto Kurt's feet and tied the laces of his drab, but comfortable, running shoes. After making sure they had all their belongings gathered up they went downstairs to sign out. Burt hailed a cab to take them to the airport, and the next few hours passed in relative silence. Before their flight the men bought a couple of sandwiches for lunch and picked up a magazine each at a shop near their gate. In the time between walking out the hospital doors in New York and arriving at Burt's car in the parking garage of the Port Columbus International airport, they probably exchanged a total of 10 sentences, each of them lost in their own little worlds. The 2 ½ hour drive back to Lima wasn't much more lively, the radio being the only noise breaking the quiet. At one point Burt asked if there was anything Kurt especially wanted for dinner, but the boy only continued staring listlessly out the window and muttered that he honestly didn't care.

A few miles away from the house, Kurt nearly broke down again. As the streets of Lima wound around him, he realized that, other than his father's face, these were the first recognizable things he'd set eyes on in almost a week. He took a muted form of solace in this, accepting the brief reprieve from the anguish of unfamiliarity he suffered while in the city. Suddenly his heart felt heavy with longing to be home, to see Carole, even though in his memory she'd only been part of the family for about a year, to sleep in his own bed, to surround himself with the past that he _knew_. Even though he was aware that the relief would be a temporary, superficial band-aid covering what amounted to a gaping wound, he refused to deny himself the pleasure of one night to relish a sense of normality before the storm lurking just around the corner crashed full force upon him.

About 15 minutes away from the house, Kurt finally spoke up.

"Is Carole home?"

Visibly startled by the unexpected conversation, Burt recovered enough to answer,

"Uh, no, she had to work tonight. Probably won't be home before you fall asleep. But she'll be around tomorrow while I'm at the shop, so she's all yours." He paused before continuing,

"I figured when we're all together tomorrow we'll talk about… about what to do next."

"Oh. Ok."

Silence reigned for another couple of minutes before Burt piped back up.

"You left a lot here when you moved, and we haven't turned your room into an office or anything, so you'll have some clothes and books and things."

Kurt considered this.

"When is my stuff from New York going to arrive?"

He noticed his dad stiffen slightly.

"I think it's getting shipped in the morning, so I dunno, two days?"

There was another pregnant pause.

"Look, Kurt, I think when it all gets here you shouldn't, uh, well, it might not be the best idea to open everything up right away. Just in case it's too much at once, ya know?"

Kurt nodded, figuring that would be the case. In all honesty he wasn't sure he'd be ready to face that situation so soon, anyway. Burt's words caused him to consider another possibility, and though he posed it as a question, it's came out sounding more like a statement.

"You asked Carole to go through my room and take out anything I added after my junior year, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I did. But we didn't get rid of anything, it's all just waiting in boxes, for when you're ready." Burt shifted somewhat guiltily at the admission, but Kurt understood that his parents were only trying to do what was best.

"Thank you," he murmured, "I appreciate that."

Soon enough they pulled into the Hummel-Hudson driveway and walked their limited luggage to the front door. Kurt half expected begin weeping as soon as he saw the well-trod hallway and inhaled the soothing smells of his childhood. To his surprise, all he felt was contentment, and he decided to allow himself to be wrapped up in the warm blanket of that moment until morning.

Before leaving for work Carole prepared one of Kurt's favorite pasta dishes and left it in the fridge to be reheated when they returned. Kurt didn't even bother to go downstairs to his room before sitting down to wait for dinner, realizing that he was hungrier than he thought during the drive home. Within 30 minutes both men were pleasantly full and Burt was cleaning up dishes. Still not having made a move towards his old room, Kurt sat silently sipping the last of the water in his glass.

"So, kiddo, do you wanna watch a movie or something? I think Carole has a copy of your favorite… what's it called? Moola Rogue?"

For the first time in what felt like eons, Kurt smiled and released a genuine laugh, which Burt gladly returned, overjoyed to finally see his son relaxed again.

"It's 'Moulin Rouge,' dad. And thanks, but I'm wiped. I think I'm just gonna go to bed. Been a long week."

Still smiling, Burt nodded, moving forward to hug the boy.

"Alright, son. You get some rest. And take it easy tomorrow. You and Carole can bake cookies and watch, uh, whatever it is you guys like to watch on TV all day." He turned his face to kiss the top of Kurt's head before releasing him.

"Thanks, dad. For everything. Goodnight."

"No problem. G'night, Kurt."

Kurt flashed one more small smile before turning to walk the familiar path down to his bedroom. He took a deep breath before opening the door and flicking the light switch. Walking inside and closing the door behind him, he cast a long look around the room. In many ways it was exactly as he remembered. Most of the same pictures and knickknacks appeared to be right where he last saw them, although there were noticeable gaps on some of the shelves that he would never deliberately leave there. Those must be the places where Carole pulled something off and delegated it to a box. The thought occurred to him to go looking for these boxes, but he knew that even if he found them the results would do him more harm than good right now.

Sighing, he opened the dresser drawer that he hoped still contained at least one set of pajamas. Finding that it did, he went through the slow process of awkwardly maneuvering out of his clothes and into the worn, flannel PJs. The closer he drew to success, the heavier his eyelids became as the full weight of his exhaustion settled in. Having already forgone proper skin care for five days, he figured that one more night wasn't going to make much of a difference. With the lights off the moon shone through a small window near the ceiling, leaving just enough glow on the floor to see him safely to the double bed. Once under the cool covers and arranged in a position that allowed the cast to rest comfortably at his side, Kurt closed his eyes, slipping quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep, the likes of which he had begun to doubt he would ever experience again.

**A/N: Don't go getting used to this quick posting business. I just happened to have a lot of spare time the last couple of days. I outlined quite a bit today, and this sucker is turning out to be A LOT more involved than I originally thought. Stay with me for awhile longer- I promise Blaine will show up and Sebastian will return. It just might be a couple of chapters before that happens...**


	3. Chapter 3

Sunlight danced across Kurt's face as he slowly roused from a blissfully restful sleep. Blinking, he turned to look blearily at the alarm clock beside his bed, which informed him that it was almost noon. He took his time stretching each limb, enjoying that lazy expanse of time between opening his eyes and reaching full consciousness. For a few precious moments he completely forgot that he shouldn't be here, temporarily believing that this was an ordinary weekend visiting home from Dalton. As he attempted to extend his right arm, the illusion shattered, jarring him unceremoniously back to reality. All at once he recalled the circumstances leading him to this moment. Images of the hospital, snippets of conversation with his dad, gallons of tears escaping his eyes- everything crashed back to him simultaneously.

Unfortunately, nothing returned in that moment which might allow him any insight to the parts of his life that remained unknown.

His pleasant contentment utterly ruined, Kurt released a resigned sigh and began the slow process of extracting himself from the warm sheets in order to find clothes before heading upstairs. Knowing full well that he wouldn't be leaving the house that day, he didn't bother opening the closet, instead going straight for the dresser in search of sweatpants and a t-shirt. After successfully wriggling into the comfortable clothing he trudged up the stairs, mentally preparing to greet Carole. The problem was not that he didn't want to see her; the issue was facing yet another person who knew more about his life than he did. When it was just his dad this idea didn't bother him nearly as much, but adding more people to the mix just served as a reminder that _everyone_ knew more than him. Tamping down a new found level of frustration, Kurt headed into the kitchen to find his step-mom seated in the breakfast nook, a mug of coffee beside her and newspaper in hand. Given her disheveled appearance and worn terrycloth robe, it appeared that she hadn't been awake for too long, either.

Her head turned when she heard footsteps padding along the linoleum floor, smile radiating on her face as she set down the paper and sprung up to meet Kurt next to the coffee pot. Without warning she crushed him in to a hug the likes of which he could only remember receiving from her once before, after the wedding. Then again, there was two years worth of embraces missing from his timeline, so his judgment left much to be desired. Despite his melancholy, he grinned against her neck during the abnormally long hug, focusing on being grateful for the company of someone who obviously cared about him. When they finally pulled apart Carole's eyes were misty with barely restrained tears, but happiness and relief shone brightly in her expression as she exclaimed,

"Kurt, honey, it's so good to see you!"

Unable to stifle it, Kurt let out a dry chuckle,

"You, too, Carole. Though I can't say I'm overjoyed about the circumstances."

Rather than disappearing entirely, her smile merely faded into one holding trace amounts of sadness. She nodded understandingly while reaching out to pat Kurt's shoulder.

"Fair enough. Now, I know you wouldn't deny me the pleasure of cooking you an entirely unhealthy breakfast meant mostly to feed your soul. Pancakes with warm blueberry compote and whipped cream?"

Catching her infections enthusiasm, Kurt burst into a genuine grin. She truly was the best step-mom he could ask for.

"Compromise with whole wheat pancakes and we have a deal."

Carole took a moment to exaggeratedly consider this proposition, pursed lips and all, before countering,

"You get your healthy wheat if I can cancel it out with two slices of bacon. Your move, sir."

Kurt's hand flew to his heart, a mask of mock horror covering his face.

"Carole!" he admonished, "After everything we discussed about dad's diet, you're keeping _bacon_ in the house?"

"Well, Finn will be here in a few days, and it's almost Christmas" she attempted to defend herself, "now quit deflecting. Do we have an agreement or not?"

Without hesitation the boy shot back,

"One scrambled egg instead of bacon."

"One scrambled egg with cheddar cheese on top," she insisted.

"One scrambled egg with skim mozzarella cheese."

"One scrambled egg with skim mozzarella cheese, two whole wheat pancakes topped with warm blueberry compote and whipped cream, plus I get to put a few chocolate chips in the batter. That's my final offer, young man."

Laughing, Kurt stuck out his hand to shake hers.

"You drive a hard bargain, lady, but I accept your terms."

Triumphantly she set about gathering supplies and busying herself with preparing the meal. Still highly amused, Kurt poured a cup of coffee, carefully adding the requisite amounts of milk and sugar to make the rejuvenating liquid consumable. Once seated at the kitchen table he stared wordlessly into space, allowing his mind a minute to decide what kind of conversation to strike up. Without the contents of the mug before him coursing through his system, anything too serious was ill advised. Still, it wasn't as if he were home for Winter break, bursting with stories about his first semester of college; he was limited to either reminiscing or asking about Carole's life. With a jolt of distress Kurt realized that even the latter counted as encroaching on dangerous territory. He wouldn't just be asking how she'd been since he moved, but about how the last two years had treated her.

As this realization dawned the accompanying dismay appeared evident on his face, because at that moment Carole turned to face him, a question about cheese quantity dying immediately on her lips.

"Honey, what is it?"

Kurt shook his head, not in dismissal, but in defeat. He was at a loss.

"I just… I want to talk to you, but I don't know what to talk about. There's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know and I don't think I'm awake enough right now to start hearing you tell me about the last couple years of your life. So I… I don't know."

Carole considered this before responding,

"Come over here and keep an eye on the compote. I'll be back in two minutes."

Curious, Kurt complied, standing by the stove and stirring the bubbling, sugary fruit concoction. Shortly after disappearing she returned, carrying a stack of magazines. She plopped the lot down on the table and as his eyes widened, so did her smile.

"Here you go. Every copy of Vogue from July 2011-July 2012. And when the rest of your stuff arrives you'll be able to get fully caught up."

Beaming with eyes watering, Kurt lurched forward for his second hug of the morning. This was exactly what he needed right now. The volumes probably wouldn't be so over stimulating as to trigger an unmanageable flood of memory, but they would help fill in some gaps and also keep him entertained for quite awhile. Pulling back he wiped the moisture off his face and spewed a litany of grateful statements. Carole waved him off, continuing to cook and saying that it was the least she could do.

"I know you had them arranged in chronological order, but they got shuffled a bit when I stored them, so I'm sorry about that."

Kurt reached for the magazine at the top of the pile, about to open it when Carole spoke again,

"Ok, before I lose you completely to the world of high end fashion for a few hours, we do need to talk about the rest of the day."

Perplexed, he looked up at her.

"Huh? I mean, yeah, sure, what is there to discuss?"

Her eyes twinkled somewhat mischievously.

"I promised your dad that I would oversee your well being today, instructions including, but not limited to, watching at least one movie, baking no less than two kinds of cookies and allowing you to discard one item of his clothing, excluding baseball caps."

Gaping, Kurt began to speak,

"That seems like…"

"And," Carole cut him off, "I am recognized as being at full liberty to force-feed you the entire cheesecake currently residing in the fridge should you become overly moody at any point."

He gasped.

"You wouldn't."

She cast him a wicked smirk.

"Oh, just watch me."

There was a second of tense silence before both of them burst into giggles, forcing Carole to put down the pancake spatula and brace herself against the counter.

"But seriously," Kurt rasped, still giggling and choking for lack of oxygen, "no offense, Carole, but unless all of that is in writing, I may choose to not acknowledge some of those stipulations."

She swiftly produced a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her robe and passed it to him. Upon opening up the document, Kurt found her words printed in his dad's handwriting, almost verbatim. At the bottom was both of their signatures and a little note from Burt:

Sorry kid, I know you too well. Figured I'd take some precautions. Be good!

Love, Dad

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

"Oh come on, don't tell me that you can't see the appeal in an outright directive to throw out something flannel," Carole cajoled as she placed breakfast in front of him. It smelled heavenly and Kurt batted away the habit to mentally tabulate the calories, digging in to the pancakes as though he hadn't eaten in days.

"Ok, you win. Moulin Rouge first, then going into battle with dad's closet before drowning my despair in snickerdoodles and peanut butter cookies?"

She retrieved her newspaper and joined him at the table.

"I can't wait. Now eat up. You'll need that sugar buzz to survive sifting through Burt's criminal fashion choices."

Given his late start, to Kurt it seemed that the afternoon passed too quickly. Singing along with the movie left him feeling delightfully lighthearted, especially with Carole's slightly off-key voice desperately attempting to harmonize beside him and serving as a point of endless humor for them both. At the end of the film they traipsed upstairs to the master bedroom, prepared to face the worst. Kurt immediately located the flannel button up shirt that had long since mocked him whenever Burt wore it. Blue, orange and green, with more holes and shifty looking stains than should be allowed to see the light of day, Kurt didn't even think it worthy of a humble burial at the bottom of their trash can.

"Can we burn it? Please? I promise I'll clean out the fireplace later," he entreated.

Carole laughed briefly.

"How about you give it to me for now? I promise he won't find it and we'll dispose of it properly when the time is right."

Kurt reluctantly handed over the ragged fabric, watching as Carole buried the shirt in a drawer. With the clothing successfully covered by her collection of socks, she turned to him,

"So, I believe cookies were next on the to-do list?"

Two hours later Kurt once again sat in the kitchen, the time between removing and replacing cookie sheets in the oven spent happily flipping through Vogue. Meanwhile, Carole buried herself in a nondescript romance novel and the two enjoyed a companionable silence. Kurt flipped a page in the March 2012 issue and froze, his brain seized by an unexpected memory.

_"Oh. My. God."_

_Kurt's screeching outburst disturbed the quiet in his shared dorm, startling his roommate attempting to study on the other side._

_"Kurt, seriously," Nick exclaimed, tossing his book aside in frustration, "we talked about this. I understand your 'passion for fashion,' but it scares the shit out of me when you come out of nowhere like that."_

_Leaping from his seated position, Kurt strode across the minimal distance between them and shoved the magazine in Nick's face._

_"A floral print shirt paired with a plaid skirt. FLORAL AND PLAID, Nick! Don't even get me started on the color combinations," Kurt fumed. "I have never been this disappointed in Vogue's editors."_

As suddenly as it crept upon him, the moment passed. Carole obviously noticed, her eyes peering over the top of her book, a questioning gaze directly aimed at him.

"You remembered something," she stated simply.

"Um, yeah," Kurt's voice shook, "but I mean, it wasn't anything big. Just a stupid little thing." He relayed the brief recollection and to his surprise, Carole beamed.

"It might seem minor, but this means that everything is still there in your head, no matter how deeply buried. You can get it all back, Kurt."

He smiled weakly. At that moment they heard the front door open, signaling Burt's return. Though he knew that a talk about the future would be happening tonight, Kurt still had no idea what to contribute to the discussion. This promised to be an uncomfortable evening for everyone involved, but reflecting on his days with Burt while stuck in the hospital and the wonderful hours just spent with Carole, Kurt knew that he had the best possible support group surrounding him. While the next few months were likely to be anything but easy, at least he knew that being alone would be the least of his worries.


End file.
