I always write a Christmas story, and this year was no exception. The problem was that this started out as a 3-5K word "idea" and ended up being ten times that by the time I wrote "the end". It's complete and ready to upload a chapter at a time. Unsure how often that'll be, but I'm shooting for at least once a week. So...it's a bit late, but I hope you can get yourself back into the Christmas spirit for a chapter or two. :) As always, don't be shy. You know I love hearing from you.

Chapter 1

"Dad, I know…the weather…yeah, but…no, my landlord said…but…yeah, I heard you but you're not hearing ME…no, I have to be out because…DAD. STOP! Please, you're making me crazy and I –" Kurt heard himself bark before he could stop it from exiting his mouth. He instantly regretted the heat behind his words but Burt Hummel was making him a raving lunatic. He coughed harshly for the four hundredth time that day and covered the phone for a minute. Kurt had way too much on his mind at the time, and he surely didn't recall Burt going to school for meteorology. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Dad, it's just that—"

"Hello?"

"Carole? Oh for God's sake, is this Dad's equivalent of hanging up on me? Handing you the phone is the answer? Jesus," Kurt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Goodness Kurt, you hardly sound like yourself your voice is so deep! Are you sure you're well enough to travel? Your dad…he's um…he's a little upset, Kurt. He can tell that you're sick, and then with the weather and all. He worries, you know, and the weather report says—"

"It's just a cold. I have a slight cough and my throat is a little itchy, but that's all. It's going away now, really. I'm feeling much better than I did all of last week. I know I sound awful, though, and the weather isn't something we can control… if it wants to snow, it's gonna snow. I tried to tell him this, Carole. Unless I want to come back to New York for a day after Christmas - one day, Carole - I have to be out now. I don't have the time or the patience for that so I had to pack it all up and move it now. I can't sit here and wait a few days until that cute little girl on the news that Dad likes so much says it's safe to travel. My landlord is using the weeks between now and January first to paint the apartment, fix anything that needs it – and believe me, there's quite a bit of fixing to do – and get it ready for the people who are moving in the first of the month. There's no time for me to dilly dally around…it has to be now. I'll be careful, I don't know what else to say. Besides, how often are those morons right, anyway? We'll probably barely get a dusting of snow and that'll be the end of it. I'm aiming to be home well before Christmas so I can help you with everything."

"Did you take a breath in there anywhere, because I must have missed it?" Carole asked. "Storm of the century, Kurt. What part of that screams 'flurries'?" Kurt couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or if she was irritated with him. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out with a noisy sigh. After counting to ten he opted to tone down his initial response. It was just too much to ask that he hold his tongue.

"Unless something major has changed, I'm assuming you still need me to leave my home, my job and my friends and move back to Lima? While I'm well aware that this will be odd for the two of you, having someone else in the house again for a short time until I can find a place, please remember what you've asked me to give up in order to hopefully turn things around there. It wasn't so long ago that you packed up your entire home and moved in with Dad, and I'm sure you remember how stressful moving can be. That's where I am with this, Carole. I'm just really, really stressed out over all of it and to top it off, I haven't been sleeping well because of this head cold. I love you guys, but I think we both know that I'm not going to hold off on traveling because of a little weather, so please tell Dad I'm going to leave in the morning, on schedule, and I'll be careful. I'll see you soon."

With that, Kurt disconnected the call without so much as a 'by your leave', then tossed his phone onto the pile of boxes next to him. What a clusterfuck.

"The things we do for those we love…" he muttered.

"A-fuckin'-men, man," he heard next to him.

Turning, Kurt saw one of the movers shaking his head as he stacked a few boxes on a wheeled dolly to take them down to the truck Kurt had hired to drive his things back to Lima. He'd bought a used SUV a little over a year ago when he realized that many of his job sites were well out of the way of the train, and cab fare would have bankrupted him. Isabelle had taken to choosing more and more out of the way sites for photo shoots, as well, and this last one would have seen him hiking three miles up to a waterfall upstate if he didn't have the 4-wheel drive on the SUV. He was driving it to Lima and someone else would bring the truck full of his big things a day or two later.

"A kindred spirit, then?"

"This ain't even my job, man. I'm only helpin' out my friend downstairs for some extra cash. I got a little girl at home and she's countin' on Santa to bring her one o' them American Girl dolls, right? Can't let her down," he grinned. Kurt's heart melted.

"Ya know, on second thought, I think I'll take that box in the car with me," Kurt said to him in reply, grabbing the second box labeled "blankets" in the man's stack. "Just in case…can't be too careful, right?" he said, offering what might pass as a grin, "storm of the century" ringing in his ears.

"Suit yourself. I'm just here to put it on the truck. And for what it's worth, I wish you luck where you're going. I didn't mean to pry, but I heard you talkin' on the phone before…I grew up in Indiana, probably not far from where you're goin'. Can't understand why you'd wanna move back there, but it ain't none o' my business."

Kurt didn't know how to reply. The guy was right. He had everything here in New York – a good job, a fantastic boss, friends, a nice apartment. But, when your dad is sick and nearly dies on you for a second time, you sit up and take notice. When he tells you he's probably going to lose the only business he's ever known because he can't get in to work as many days as he'd like, you pay closer attention. And when the manager he hires to turn things around robs him blind and disappears, you act. It churned his gut to walk away from everything he'd built here in the city, especially when he felt he was on the cusp of something great at Vogue, but family came first. Period. No matter how much it broke his heart to leave his life, he'd be there for his dad, who'd been there for him every step of the way, and he'd grin and bear it.

"Thank you…I appreciate that. Mind you, I didn't say anything about wanting to move back there…" Kurt trailed off, setting the box of blankets in his hands into the 'take these in the car with you' pile. Puffing out his cheeks and blowing out a gust of air, Kurt surveyed the room around him. It was time. First thing in the morning he'd get on the road.

"I think this is it, ain't it?" the mover asked him. Kurt looked around again to be sure, then nodded. He grinned when he heard the man's stomach growl, then noted the time. 7:30 pm. Kurt hadn't eaten since breakfast and he was famished.

"What's your name?" Kurt asked.

"Troy. Guy downstairs is Javier. Why?"

"Because you guys have worked your asses off all afternoon up here and I'm sure you're hungry. Pizza and beer's on me if you're interested?" Kurt offered, not wanting to spend his last night in New York City eating alone in his empty apartment. They'd thrown him a 'goodbye' party the previous evening and he'd said all of his necessary farewell's to his friends and co-workers. He figured the only saving grace was that he didn't have to say goodbye to a boyfriend or lover. Those days were over. He'd broken up with his ex almost a year ago. He hadn't allowed himself to date anyone since then or even bother with a one night stand. He had too much going on between work and his dad's health, and had no time for any of that.

"We already got paid, man, you don't have to do that, but I ain't sayin' no to free food and beer!" Troy laughed. "I'll grab Javi…I'm sure he's in."

"Technically I haven't paid you yet," Kurt grinned.

"Well, somebody did," Troy replied, pulling a folded up check out of his pocket. Nice lookin' broad stopped out on the sidewalk and paid us. Said she 'owed you this much and then some', told us she'd already said her goodbyes and all that, but that she appreciated our help. She started cryin' and bolted, though." He handed Kurt the check.

"Isabelle…" Kurt muttered, shaking his head with a fond grin. "Listen, I'll meet you downstairs by the black SUV out front. Give me a second to lock up, yeah?"

"Will do. You got shit goin' down to your car?"

"Yeah…just a few things…these over here. I can grab 'em in the morning –"

"Naw, man. I'm goin' down, pile 'em on here." Kurt did so and nodded his thanks as the man passed into the hallway one last time.

As soon as Troy closed the door Kurt's tears fell. Isabelle had paid his movers. God he loved that woman and he'd miss her so much. And yes, she did 'owe him this much' if she expected him to attend that Christmas party in Ohio for one of her favorite 'associates'. Kurt kinda thought he was a pompous ass, but he'd been working with Isabelle, as a model, nearly as long as Kurt had been with the company, and she counted C.J. as a friend – tall, devastatingly handsome, rich as Croesus, apparently, and his family had too many connections to turn down. Isabelle couldn't make it in person, and 'since Kurt was going home to Ohio anyway,' she'd argued… He'd never burdened her with the stories of how said associate was always nearly harassing him about setting him up with this or that gay friend. It was a small price to pay to be on the photo shoot with the man every photographer and magazine wanted, and it looked good on Kurt's resume…not that he figured he'd need that for a long while. Oh, he wanted to choke Isabelle. But…she was his best friend, and there was very little he wouldn't do for her. A party wasn't the worst thing she could have asked of him.

Surprisingly, he'd spent a few hours the previous evening laughing and talking with Troy and Javier over pizza, wings and beer at the place on the corner across from his building. They were nice guys and they'd been careful with his stuff, unlike the assholes who'd moved his things in two years before. Before leaving them, Kurt had called in a favor from a friend who assured him she'd have an American Girl doll with an extensive Kurt-Hummel-worthy wardrobe sent over to Troy's house before Christmas as well as a top of the line bike for Javier's son. Isabelle had probably saved him about a thousand dollars by paying his movers, and he was a firm believer in Karma. If you can help someone, you do it. Period. No questions asked.

With that done, he had thanked his newfound friends, bid them a Merry Christmas and headed across the street to sleep on his air mattress in his all-but-empty apartment for the last time. His heart was heavy. 6 a.m. would come way too soon. With thoughts of home on his mind, Kurt fell asleep for the last time in his New York City apartment.


Devon Anders ( thesinfulsongbird)Headed home for Christmas. Safe travels to all of you doing the same. Willie & Me…

Kurt woke to the sound of a notification on his phone and saw that Devon Anders had tweeted a photo of his hands holding his own phone, Willie Nelson's On The Road Again apparently playing for him. It made Kurt smile, as Devon's tweets always did, and he stretched out thinking, not for the first time, that Devon had strong, beautiful hands. He often tweeted short videos of himself playing guitar or piano but not singing…never singing, and only his hands…never his face. It made Kurt wonder if, perhaps, Devon was a fantastic songwriter, but a horrid vocalist? Or perhaps Devon just didn't think he was an attractive man and didn't want to see the hateful comments? He never spoke, only played his instruments or typed out a tweet. It looked like the lyrist was traveling for the holidays. Kurt had a journey of his own ahead, and he needed to get to it.

Waking with a slight hangover from drinking draft beer all night wasn't the ideal way to start a journey home with just days until Christmas, but he was on a schedule and it was time to go. With one last look around, Kurt tugged his carry-on suitcase down to the street, shoved it in the back seat and headed toward the highway.

A sure sign of things to come was the light snow falling before he ever made it across the Hudson. Kurt plugged his phone in to charge and kept his eyes on the road. Drivers in New York City were absolutely insane, and when you added in a few snowflakes, all hell broke loose. He was ready to get out and onto the open road. With a fond look in his rearview mirror, Kurt left the city behind, hopefully not for the last time.

He'd barely made it into Pennsylvania when his stomach finally made him pull over. He was hungry, but almost afraid to eat with the way his belly was gurgling. Still, he pulled off the highway and found a place to eat. Settling into a booth in a little Amish country place he took in the outdated interior of the restaurant and sighed. No, he sure wasn't in NYC anymore. Although with the possibly homeless man in the booth behind him, it felt almost like being in the city again.

"What can I get for you?" the server asked as she looked down her nose at him. She wasn't being rude, she was just insanely tall and couldn't help but look down that way.

"I uh…some coffee please, and pancakes as well," Kurt replied.

"Short stack or tall stack?"

"Oh…short, please."

"Bacon, sausage or –"

"Bacon, crisp, thank you," he added, closing his menu.

She grabbed it and walked to the booth behind him.

"You ok?" Kurt heard her say.

"Oh, yeah, 'm good…thanks," the rich tenor replied, mumbling, almost. Kurt instantly wanted to turn around and see who owned such a heartbreakingly mellow voice.

"Hon, you look ready to topple. You sure you don't want something to eat?" she asked.

"Just the coffee, please…just wanna warm up, then I'll be back on the road," the man added, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice.

"Alright…if you're sure," the server sighed, unmoving for a few more seconds.

"Excuse me…" Kurt called softly as she moved away.

"Yes sir?"

"May borrow your pen?"

Bewildered, she handed Kurt her pen and he hastily scrawled on his napkin "I'll pay for his breakfast…bring him whatever you feel he needs, please". He handed her the napkin and the pen, thanking her again, then settled on checking his Facebook on his phone, missing her grateful glance as he did so. The man behind him hummed along with a tune most likely playing through the ear buds Kurt had spied as he sat down.

He eventually looked up and around, taking in the scene around him. It was just like any roadside place – clean enough but not spotless, aged booths and tables, no table cloths. Outdated, paneled walls lined every exterior wall and counter stools with faded pleather seats stood like sentinels at the counter.

The people who worked here probably knew each other for a lifetime already, he thought. A traditional Christmas tree was nowhere to be found, but there was a gorgeous nativity scene on display. Kurt remembered that the Amish tended to celebrate "Old Christmas" on January 6th, the Epiphany, instead of on December 25th, as most who celebrated the holiday did. Instantly, Kurt missed his tree back home with Burt. Soon enough, he thought to himself, then wondered if the man behind him had a family to go home to for Christmas or not

Eventually, he couldn't stand not turning around, so when his waitress came by he asked where the restroom was. On his way back out he was treated to his first vision of the man with the rich, velvety voice behind him, and to say Kurt was taken aback would have been an understatement.

He was smaller in stature than Kurt would have thought, probably shorter than himself, if Kurt had to guess. His hair was certainly longer than was in style – dark, curly and in a massive pile of disarray, and his mangy beard nearly took over his entire face. The man didn't look up as Kurt all but stared at him, but stirred his coffee intently, reading the morning's paper as he did so. Kurt took his seat again wondering if the man was local, but when his food arrived, he put it out of his mind and dug in, thankful that it was sitting in his stomach well after his overindulgence with the beers the previous night.

"Oh, but I didn't—" the man behind Kurt began, but he was cut off by the waitress.

"I know…but someone apparently thinks you might be hungry, and has offered to buy you breakfast, so eat up, hon. You look like you could use it," she said with a wink, setting down a plate of pancakes along with bacon and two eggs. She refilled his coffee once again and sauntered back behind the counter.

Kurt ate in silence, checking his email on his phone as he did so. Before he knew it he'd inhaled the whole breakfast and was sufficiently full. He paid for enough coffee to fill his travel mug, then his big thermos, tipped his server well and with a heartfelt "Merry Christmas" to her, Kurt was walking out the door. As he walked past the man's table, Kurt heard a low "thank you…for breakfast," before he turned, nodded with a warm smile and a heartfelt "Merry Christmas" for the disheveled stranger as well, then headed for the door again. The man certainly had a nice smile.

He climbed into his SUV, turned the ignition and waited for it to warm up for a minute, glancing at his phone as it buzzed.

Carole: Are you on the road? Your dad's already worried and watching The Weather Channel. Check in now and again when you're stopped, please. Love you.

Kurt smiled, then glanced up as something caught his attention. The man was walking out the door, his oversized, worn coat snugged around him and a ratty, old backpack slung over his shoulder, his hands in his coat pockets. He started walking toward the small center of town and Kurt hoped he had somewhere warm to go when he got there.

Kurt: Just stopped to eat and use the restroom. Not in the same room, of course. Getting back on the road now.

Carole: LOL We just got home from the grocery. Your dad is livid…absolutely livid. He wanted you to have my pot roast when you got here, and a Baker's Brown Sugar Ham for Christmas Eve, but we can't seem to find a single one. With the forecasted snow, every store is wiped out and now he's in a fit.

Kurt: I'm sure they'll get more in stock before Christmas, won't they?

Carole: They said it was doubtful, and even if they do, the odds of me getting one are slim and none. Those things fly off the shelf the minute they get 'em in. Oh, he's just so angry at himself for not picking it up last week when he saw they had 'em in.

Kurt: I'm stopping here in town to grab a few snacks for the drive. I'll see what they have. It's not like it's going to be warm enough in my car for it to go bad. For that matter I can strap it to the roof if necessary. LOL

Carole: Oh, Kurt, he'll be so glad. This new medicine he's on makes him so grumpy sometimes and the smallest, most idiotic things set him off. I just want to make him happy. Thank you, Kurt.

Kurt: It's not a problem. I'll see you soon, I hope.

Carole: Is it snowing there yet?

Kurt: It is, but not too badly right now.

Kurt watched as the man crossed the street, headed away from him, head still down, but walking briskly. He smiled and backed out of his spot. Just as he was ready to pull forward, the waitress came running out waving something at him so he rolled down his window.

"Oh, the man…he forgot his gloves! Left them sitting on the seat in the booth. It's too cold out here to have no gloves. Did you see which way he went?"

"He headed that way, and I'm guessing that way is into town?" Kurt replied.

"It is." she huffed. "Well, I suppose he'll come back for them…but he's not local. I assumed he was on his way through."

"I can take them. I'm headed that way. If he's not local, he might be on foot or…I don't know. If I see him I'll pass them along. If not, I suppose I'll head back this way to get back on the highway and drop them to you in case he comes back?"

"Oh, would you?! I'd be forever grateful. He was kind…looked a bit of a mess, but he was friendly and I'd hate for him not to have them."

Kurt took the gloves and was about to roll his window up when he asked, instead, "Is there a grocery in town? I have to pick up a few things for the road."

"Sure is! Five blocks down that way on the same side 'o the road," she grinned. "Thanks again. And Merry Christmas to you!"

"Same to you…thank you."

Kurt pulled out of his spot, back onto the road, and headed toward the grocery hoping to see the man on his way.

Carole: I hate to be a pain, but since I didn't get the roast, I didn't pick up the veggies to go with it. I don't have any potatoes or carrots or onions, Kurt. I'm sorry. You don't have to go to all the trouble for all of that. We'll find something else to eat.

Kurt: it's not a problem. Let me see what I can come up with before we ditch the plan. I'm headed to the store now anyway.

Kurt had only gone two blocks when he spotted the man walking up ahead of him. Slowing as he reached a stop sign, he yelled out his window at the stranger.

"Hey! Excuse me! You forgot your gloves!" he called, but the man didn't hear him, apparently, and kept walking. "Hey! Oh for goodness sake…" Kurt grumbled, then checked traffic and made a swift left turn into the driveway of a gas station, effectively blocking the man's way. He was so engrossed on the device in his hands he nearly walked into the side of Kurt's SUV. He looked up, startled to see a vehicle in front of him all of a sudden, then met eyes with Kurt and pulled his ear buds out.

"Uh…yes?" he asked, uncertain now as to why this man was waving him down.

"Your gloves…you left them in the booth. The waitress was worried about you…"

"Oh. OH! Thanks…I appreciate it," he said, then grabbed them from Kurt and stuck his hands inside with a nod of gratitude. It was almost awkward the way Kurt wanted to sit there and hear him speak again. The man's voice was just…well, like smooth chocolate or warm honey. He couldn't put a finger on it, but he liked it. A lot. He couldn't believe that such an amazing sound came out of such an oddly disheveled individual.

"Ok…I'll uh…be going. Stay safe…." Kurt said then pulled forward, through the lot and back out onto the road headed for the grocery store.


"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a brown sugar ham. I don't remember the brand name, but it's the one in the mesh type bag with the little chef on the tag. My step mom can't find one at home and I thought maybe –"

The woman behind the meat counter looked around as if startled or afraid, then leaned over and whispered to Kurt, "Just got a truck out back. Lemme go look. You hang tight. Minute I get that thing out they'll come runnin', so you better hold on to it."

The woman's warning had Kurt's eyes wide and he glanced around him almost as if checking for an escape route. She disappeared through a back door and Kurt waited patiently for her to reappear. Less than five minutes later she stealthily slid back inside and cradled the ham to her belly, arms around it tightly.

"I suggest you put it in the cart, then cover it with your scarf or something.. You may not make it out of the store with it if you don't," she said sternly. Kurt only nodded, taking his scarf from around his neck to do as he was told. "Ok, anything else I can get for ya?"

"I'm just going to go check the meat case for a pot roast."

"Won't find one. Got some cut, though. I'll wrap it up for you. How big?"

"Oh…I dunno…couple pounds, maybe? Three of us plus I'll absolutely have to have leftovers," Kurt grinned.

She reappeared from the back area and handed over the roast with a kind smile. Kurt thanked her, wished her a Merry Christmas and sauntered over to the produce aisle. Suddenly there was a ruckus the likes of which he'd never heard in his own grocery store, and shoppers flocked to the back counter where he'd just been, all of them nearly climbing over one another for the prized brown sugar hams. Eyes wide, and a little frightened, if he was being honest, Kurt hurried away, making sure his ham was hidden from sight.

Kurt found himself in line twenty minutes later with more than he thought he needed, but he surely didn't want to have to stop at the store when he got home to Ohio. One trip was enough, and they had everything he needed. Surely it'd stay cool enough if he set it in the trunk near the rear door. Truth be told, he was really looking forward to both Carole's pot roast and the ham on Christmas Eve. It'd been a Hummel family tradition for years, even before Carole, and he had fond memories of those Christmases past.

As he bagged his groceries, he took stock of what he'd grabbed, then rolled his eyes at himself: Baker's Brown Sugar Ham, a pot roast, 10 lb bag of red potatoes, carrots, celery, onions, dinner rolls (those good Hawaiian sweet rolls that might actually make it home if he didn't put them within arm's reach), a 6-pack of Diet Coke, a 6-pack of water, a giant jug of mulled cider, five pound bag of apples that he'd make into a pie when he got to Burt's, a bunch of bananas, a bag of potato chips and, because he was a grown man and he could if he wanted to, damn it, a box of Twinkies. Because he still wasn't feeling 100%, he'd grabbed a box of daytime / nighttime cold and flu medicine as well. In no time he was on the road again, cruising through town and headed toward the highway.

As Kurt passed the restaurant he'd eaten breakfast in, he thought once again about the man who'd sat behind him while he ate. Would he be going home? Would he, at least, have somewhere warm to go, even if he didn't have a 'home', per se? Would he have a nice Christmas meal? He didn't see the man as he drove, and assumed he'd continued on into town while Kurt had essentially backtracked toward the highway.

He'd nearly reached merging speed on the ramp to I-80 when everyone in front of him slammed on their brakes. Cars skidded perilously close to traffic which was already moving down the highway at a good clip, and Kurt's heart was beating wildly. He'd managed to stop and not slam into the back of the car in front of him, but up ahead that wasn't the case. Minutes later, when he hadn't moved an inch and he was getting antsy, he opened the door of his car and stepped out, looking to see if he could figure out what was holding them up. As he did so, emergency vehicles sounded in the distance and began edging up the ramp, forcing everyone to the side as they did so. There was barely enough room for two car widths and Kurt was annoyed with the shuffle. He just wanted to get on the damn road and get home.

Thirteen songs on Pandora and probably an inch of snow later, Kurt saw brake lights ahead of him and realized people were beginning to move. With a soft 'bout damn time' to himself, he fell in line behind the other cars and inched forward. The accidents had been moved off to the side and Kurt realized it was apparently a deer which had caused the snafu. He gave it a sad grimace and a "sorry buddy…" as he passed, then picked up speed and merged as carefully as possible. He'd left the restaurant over an hour ago and he'd barely made it a mile out of town.

Less than five minutes up the road he could barely see for the snow coming down. Everyone was creeping along and Kurt wasn't any different. He hoped if they kept moving he'd eventually get through the worst of it, so he slowly inched forward, slipping his vehicle into 4 wheel drive. He passed a sign for a rest area up ahead and watched several people put their blinkers on to get over to the right. Apparently they thought it better to sit tight until the snow slowed. Kurt wanted to keep moving, though.

He was in the slow lane, already barely plodding along behind everyone when a dark figure up ahead, walking on the side of the road, caught his attention. The familiar sight had him sucking in an astonished breath and nearly swerving off the road as he recognized that crazy, wild head of hair. They'd come to nearly a stand-still, with people getting off the highway to wait out the heavy, blinding snow at the rest stop. As he passed the man walking along the highway Kurt gave serious thought to how dangerous it was…especially with the slick roads. And why wasn't the guy wearing a damn hat or a hood? He'd surely catch his death out here!

Kurt's lane had all but stopped as more people tried to merge right and get off at the rest area parking lot to wait out the storm. Kurt couldn't get over to the left if he wanted to, so he stayed where he was. If nothing else he'd just drive off at the rest area and get right back on the on ramp. They were made to be navigated that way anyway.

Then, there was the man again, passing him on foot for crying out loud. He kept pace, heading for the rest area, head down, glancing at his cell phone again, and didn't even offer anyone a second glance as he did so. When he disappeared up ahead, Kurt's curiosity got the better of him and he did, indeed, exit at the stop with everyone else. He was intrigued now, and wanted to know where the man had gone. When he saw him speaking to a trucker through the window of his 18 wheeler, Kurt understood. He was hitching a ride. For some reason it made his stomach flip, and not in a good way.

Carefully, Kurt pulled up close as the truck pulled away without the stranger. He pulled into a parking spot and mulled over the thoughts in his head. His dad had warned him so many times about picking up strangers. Burt would kill him! But, the alternative was allowing that man to get into a truck with a stranger who maybe wasn't a nice guy like Kurt was, and he'd perhaps run into trouble on the way.

Mind made up, Kurt rolled his window down and waved to get the man's attention. The look he gave Kurt said it all: You again? WTH? But instead of saying something crappy, he slowly made his way over to Kurt, keeping a good distance from the SUV's door.

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't help but notice that it looks like you're hitching a ride…and it's not safe…not with some of these guys, I'd think. Where are you going?"

"You're joking, right? You don't know me, why do you care?"

"I don't want to hear about you on the news, that's all. I'm sure most truck drivers are awesome people…but some may not be. If you're going my way—"

"And I should just trust you? I don't know you from anyone, either. And what if you get me in your car and decide you want me to pay you back for breakfast…and I don't pay that way?"

His haughty demeanor threw Kurt and he wasn't sure how to reply. "…and I don't pay that way…" repeated through his head a few times. Where was the emphasis?

"You have no assurance really. And you haven't even told me where you're going. Maybe you're not going my way anyway and this is all for naught," Kurt said. "And who said I bought you breakfast?" The man just rolled his eyes as if to say "really?"

"Maybe…"

"So?"

"So I'm headed home…going to Ohio," he grumbled. Kurt smiled.

"You're in luck. I'm headed to Ohio myself. If you'd like a ride, I'd be grateful for the company," Kurt told him. The minute the words were out of his mouth he thought to himself Oh God, what if HE'S the serial killer? What if he smells? Smokes like a chimney? Talks constantly? Oh dear God, what if he wants to listen to country western music on the radio?

"What part?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me?" Kurt replied, having been lost in his own head long enough that he'd lost track of their conversation.

"Where are you headed in Ohio?"

"Oh! I'm headed to Lima. You?" Kurt replied, secretly hoping the man didn't say Portsmouth or Cincinnati, somewhere well out of his way.

"Wapakoneta, actually."

Kurt nearly snorted. Surely it was fate.

"So we're both hundreds of miles from 'home' and I offer you, a complete stranger, a ride and you live twenty five minutes from where I live? Are you kidding me?" He couldn't help but smile.

"Still, you might be a serial killer…" the guy said, a smirk playing at his lips. They were nice lips, actually, from what Kurt could see under the unruly beard. Best not to mention that or risk freaking him out completely. "Or, it might just be fate…" the man muttered, studying Kurt for a moment. Kurt wasn't even sure he'd heard him correctly.

"Well, I can promise you I'm not. Can't even kill a mouse in my apartment. Glue traps all over the damn place…" Kurt said, shaking his head. "I'll tell you what. You can snap a photo of me and send it to a friend or relative so they'll know who you're with in case you turn up missing in a few days," Kurt offered with a mischievous grin. They guy shook his head and looked off to his right, obviously considering his options.

"Do you smoke?" he finally asked.

"No…never," Kurt replied.

"Drugs in the car?"

"What?! Absolutely not, and you better not have any either, mister!" Kurt admonished. He shook his head.

"Never touch the stuff. If you turned your radio on right now what's playing?"

"Oh…um…I'm not sure. I had my Pandora playing earlier, but I turned it off when the snow started coming down harder. You know…to concentrate on driving."

"What CD is in there?" the guy asked, pointing to Kurt's player in the dash. Kurt blushed and bit his lip.

"I…um…"

"Out with it. This relationship won't work unless we're painfully honest with one another."

Relationship… Kurt grinned, still deflecting to avoid blurting out the answer.

"But…"

The guy just gave him a stern look and Kurt crumbled.

"The Carpenters. Shut up. Don't say a word. Just don't. Don't you judge me!" Kurt squeaked. "Do you want a ride or not?"

"I'm soaking wet…I'll probably ruin your interior," the guy said, trying desperately not to laugh.

"Worse things could happen."

"Such as?"

"I could drive away and wonder for the rest of my life if you caught pneumonia and died from being out in this God forsaken snow on such a day…or if you got in a truck with some psycho and…and…I can't even think it! Now make up your mind. I have heat, hot coffee and warm blankets in here. Chop chop! We have places to go and people to see."

The stranger thought about it for all of ten more seconds, then shook his head, walked around to the passenger side of the car and pulled the door open.

"My bag?"

"Throw it in the back seat if you want. Plenty o' room back there. And that box behind me is all clean blankets that were on my sofa and my bed until last night. Help yourself."

And he did. He slipped his bag off his shoulder, opened the back door and tossed it onto the seat, then reached into the box and grabbed out two blankets, one wool and one cotton. He climbed up into Kurt's SUV with the blankets in his arms and turned to his new chauffer with a hesitant grin.

"And you are?"

"Kurt. You?"

"Blaine. It's nice to meet you, Kurt."

"Likewise, I'm sure." And it was only when 'Blaine' shifted his mass of curls that Kurt realized he had the most beautiful honey-cinnamon eyes Kurt had ever seen.

A/N As always, a huge thanks to Suzanne for her editing know-how. I'd be lost without her. A shout out or two to some people who have kept me writing, even though I haven't posted a chapter of ANYTHING for almost 9 months, Lord, help me. I HAVE been writing, I just haven't been writing Crowded House, but for those of you who have messaged me and asked, NO, it's not abandoned. Yes, there's more and yes, it'll be soon! Thank you for your patience. Oh...and that shout out...to Kristine, Sue, Laura and Robyn...those ladies don't let me forget what I love to do and they cheer me on. I'm eternally grateful.

Also, I've started reading "Courage", by Gleeful Darren Criss FAn. I'm not too far in just yet (I've been writing!) but I'm enjoying it so far! Give it a look! :) The author is a total sweetheart and has been my source of good juju recently. S, thank you for every kind word. I can't thank you nearly enough. Hugs!