It might have only been three weeks since he and Carole had managed on their second attempt to successfully integrate their separate households, and perhaps it was too soon to become entirely familiar with their individual routines, but Burt Hummel was quite certain Carole holding a mug of coffee in cupped in her hands while staring rather forlornly at a scattered puzzle before her was not a regular occurrence.

"Honey, I'm home," he said in that gruffly teasing way of his, hoping to instantly drive the expression off her face.

He was tired, very tired. He had had to put in an extra three hours in the shop tonight, and although the customer had added on a hefty bonus to the payment in compensation for the trouble, in the end, Burt had wondered if it was worth it. It was a Friday after all, and only their second Friday Family Dinner. And yet, he had had to regretfully cancel, and he couldn't help but wonder if his sons had bailed out on her without him there to police them to the table (although to be fair, save that one Friday that preceded his heart attack, Kurt had loved the concept and often spent his week planning out the menu). Which meant that Finn had probably attempted to bail...and Kurt would have objected… which would have led to an argument and...oh Carole was responding.

He did not catch her immediate words, but he was relieved to see that her eyes brightened as she looked at him. She instantly put aside her cup and rose. He met her half way, habit having him remove his cap before he bent his head slightly to kiss her slightly dried lips. She had been biting at them again, he noted absently as he pulled back, feeling a lazy warmth curl in his chest. While he would admit, coming home to Kurt's antics had never failed to warm his heart over the past eight years, there was something special about having the warmth of a partner pressed against him to entirely ease the stress of the day.

"You looked kind of pensive there for a bit," he told her around a mouth full of pasta.

It was Kurt's doing, he realised, tasting the seasonings he had still had no names to place it. The meat though was obviously Carole's. They went about cutting it for preparation in different ways.

Carole sighed, and the fork she had been using to eat a slice off cake paused half way to her lips.

"It's nothing really," she said eventually, raking a hand through her hair.

"It's more than nothing," Burt replied gruffly. "Come on now...talk to me. The boys haven't been giving you too much trouble, now have they?"

Carole laughed at that, swallowing her bite of cake before answering him. "Finn left as soon as dinner was over. Gone off to have a date with Quinn...or is it Rachel...?"

"And Kurt?" Burt asked. His son's Navigator had been in the yard, returned to him for the commute to Dalton, but if he remembered correctly, Tina had recently acquired a pair of wheels of her own, so it wasn't a guarantee that he was home.

"He lingered a bit longer. Helped me wash up and set yours aside and everything. He's getting a head start on his homework so he can start studying for his World History exam on Monday."

There was something a bit off in her tone though, an edge of sadness that had Burt watching her closely. Had something happened between her and Kurt that she wasn't willing to tell him?

She seemed to sense his curiosity, and rising, she went to the coffee maker, pouring herself a cup.

"Decaf I hope."

"Kurt brewed it himself," she quipped, recalling earlier in the week when she had accidently drunk a strong up of coffee, leading her to spend most of the night roaming the house aimlessly.

She leaned against the kitchen counter, taking long sips before finally saying, "Burt...does Kurt like me? I mean, I know he likes me...but do you think he thinks I'm intruding?"

Now that had Burt staring at her in confusion. He set aside his plate, using the time it took to finish chewing to buy himself a few minutes while he thought. What exactly had happened between the two of them to have generated that question? Kurt adored Carole. Yes there was that bit of turbulence when he had believed Finn to be encroaching on his relationship with him, but Kurt had never had an issue with Carole. Hell, he had, more than once, dragged her away from Burt during what was supposed to be their date night.

True there had been a long conversation a few days before their wedding, in which although Kurt professed his gratitude for Carole filling a void in Burt's life, he had admitted to a fear that all traces of Elizabeth would be gone (something that Burt had never planned on allowing) but that was it. There was no pressure. Kurt didn't have to call Carole 'Mom' and they had worked together to create a household schedule that they could both live with. But as far as he knew, Kurt had no issues with his new wife.

"He doesn't," he finally said with confidence. "Sometimes I worry you're going to replace me as his number one," he teased, earning a rueful chuckle from her. "Why do you ask?" he inquired further, placing his dishes into the sink.

Carole shrugged before pointing at the dining table that she had been sitting at earlier.

"I'd started that when I got home from work," she explained, pointing to the puzzle he had vaguely acknowledged earlier. "After dinner, I asked Kurt if he wanted to work on it with me. I thought it'd be a nice bonding activity. Crafting and gossip."

"And?" he pressed.

"Well, he stared at it for a long while, and I know he wanted to say yes Burt. But then he shrugged and said he wasn't allowed to. I mean, his wording was so odd...why would he say he wasn't allowed to. Does he think I'm taking his mom's...what is funny Burt Hummel?" she ended up demanding as her husband laughed loudly.

When Burt failed to cease, she whacked at his arm in annoyance. Burt pulled her to him as he brought himself under control.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, in between chuckles. "Oh Carole, he really didn't mean anything by it. He really isn't allowed to do puzzles, although I'm shocked he even remembers. It's been so long."

Burt laughed again for a long moment, before continuing at the glare in his wife's eyes. She wanted a definite response.

"Elizabeth loved puzzles," he explained further. "She would build two or three a week, no matter how many pieces there were. She passed it on to Kurt. I swear, if I didn't have baseball or football to keep my company at times, I would have cried from the neglect. He wasn't much help to her, but he was great at sorting out the colours or shapes."

"Ohh..."

Burt knew what she was thinking, that the thought of doing such an activity with a next woman was too painful for him.

"It's not that," he reassured her. "It's just that...when Elizabeth died, Kurt continued to build them...there were about twenty puzzles left over, and one by one, Kurt would sit there, at her table, working on it. He wouldn't stop. He would sit there until he fell asleep, wake up and continue. I left him at first. I'm not proud of it Carole, but I was a mess when she died, and if my eight year old was occupied while I tried to sort out...everything, I wasn't going to complain.

"That is, until I got a call from his teacher that Kurt was spending his time either sleeping or demanding to go home. She thought it was grief and that he needed counselling. I finally woke up and realised that he wanted to come home and build those damn puzzles because he could pretend that she was right there with him. Do you believe that he never cried?

"I told him she was dead and he started finishing her last puzzle. It was his way of coping and it was not at all healthy. That eight year old kid, in the space of three or four months had worked his way through the majority of her puzzles. I decided it had to stop for his sake and the easiest way of doing that was banning him from them. I never meant it to be permanent and I can't believe he even remembers it at this point.

But I guess that's why he told you no Carole. Eight years later and the kid's still listening to me."

"Like a good boy," Carole said softly, although there was a suspicious gleam in her eyes as she imagined a younger Kurt coping with his grief in his own way.

It was the primary difference between her natural son and him. Finn had never known his father, so it was not so much as a loss for him as it was an absence. For Kurt on the other hand...she, who still called her mother ever Tuesday and Saturday, could not even envision what she would do in his place.

"The best boy," Burt corrected, kissing her forehead. "They both are."

Carole hummed in agreement, reclining against him for a long moment. "Let's get you a piece of that cake, hmm? It's vegan so you're allowed to have piece."

"Yay," he said dully. "I'll talk to Kurt in the morning, okay? Lift his 'ban'."

"Do that," she told him, "but I'll leave the option up to him."

Little did they know though, that Kurt would take the option out of both of their hands. The next morning, when they decided to have an extra early breakfast for two, they found their son passed out at the table, a fully complete puzzle in front of him.

"I guess the temptation was too much to resist," Burt snorted before laughing.

Carole made to shush him, but it was too late, Kurt woke up and stared at them with a rather sheepish grin on his face as he noticed their eyes lingering on the puzzle.

And so a new tradition was born, one that saw Kurt and Carole spending ever Sunday until he headed off for New York seated at that table assembling puzzles. Finn would look on with bemusement, Burt with amusement, glad that what had once been a coping mechanism for his boy was now an actual, pleasurable activity.