On the third day, Kurt nearly flew back home. Given that Blaine was in London, it only made sense that he do a little bit of work on his band's next album. It was only for a day, but even if they weren't speaking properly, this was still a family excursion and dammit, he probably didn't even notice that after that first night, Kurt never touches his phone during the day. It's tucked in his front pocket, turned off, and if his fingers occasionally brush it as though itching to draw it out and check his email, he doesn't. He's trying and he feels like Blaine isn't noticing.

So on this third day, Kurt very nearly called a cab to go back to Heathrow because really, Blaine couldn't go several days without working? Kurt felt as though he had legitimate reasons for that first night – Rachel was representing his label at a major awards show (which had gone smoothly so he could breathe easy). After that, he was off for the week. The people in his office knew that, knew not to bother him with inane details that he can deal with in a week.

"Give me one good reason why you have to go to the studio," Kurt said the morning of the third day, sitting on the bed's edge. He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, but his gut twisted uncomfortably at Blaine's heavy sigh.

"My producer wants me to check some tracks and rework a couple lines of lyrics that apparently aren't working," he explained as he shrugged on a pair of jeans and Kurt bristled at the silent I'm talking to an idiot.

"I thought we agreed to not work on this trip," Kurt countered.

Blaine paused in the middle of buttoning up his shirt and Kurt wondered if he even remembered their conversation several weeks back about leaving their work lives in America for the sake of their family.

Instead of replying, Blaine grabbed his phone off the dresser top and stuffed it in his pocket, not looking at Kurt. "I have to go."

"No you don't," Kurt said, anger rising up in his chest, his fingers dancing against the outside seams of his jeans. "This is family time. We came here as a family to visit your brother and his family." Maybe if he said the word enough Blaine would realize that there needed to be a more clear separation in his life.

Blaine groaned, still looking out the window above the dresser. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "I really don't want to go, but I have to."

"And since when have you let your producer boss you around like this?"

"Since my husband seems to think I play a much different role in this family than what reality says I do," Blaine snapped, throwing a look at Kurt the other man couldn't identify and storming out of the room.

It would've hurt less if Blaine had physically stabbed him with a knife, he decided as he rubbed a hand over the center of his chest. Warmth left him, dropping to his gut like a lead ball. What did he expect from Blaine? To be there for their kids when he couldn't come home, when he couldn't stand walking by Alex's old room, knowing that reminders of what took Blaine away from him sat in there? To be Blaine the Dad and Blaine the Husband and Blaine the Musician?

The blow fell harder: Was he trying to stretch Blaine too thin? Blaine was music and music was Blaine. Was he telling Blaine to not be himself at home?

No, that was ridiculous. Blaine was always just himself when they were together, alone. Even in the early days of their relationship, there was a quiet, protectively content Blaine that peeked out when it was just the two of them, together and alone. But did he ever really lose the music? Everything Blaine did seemed set to a beat, more obvious as time passed. Maybe he didn't lose the music, and that's where Kurt was overstepping and trying to change him.

He shook his head and warily stood up, not sure if the sick dread streaming through his veins would knock him back down. He was thinking crazy; he never tried to change Blaine. He promised him that and so much more in his vows. Looking down, his realized he hadn't polished his wedding ring in a while. The gray color was starting to dull and there was a scratch on the bottom he hadn't noticed before. Wasn't there some myth that wedding rings could depict the state of the relationship they symbolized?

People. He needed to be around people. Getting out of that room was imperative.

Downstairs, the house was eerily quiet. He heard Sarabeth talking softly in the living room and poking his head in, he saw Elizabeth listening with rapt attention, a book long forgotten on her lap. As she grew older, he saw so much of himself in Elizabeth, but the innocence and trusting view of the world and blonde hair was all Brittany. Both girls were dreamers. He hated that telling and reading aloud stories was never his forte; Blaine took the role of Bedtime Storyteller very early on and Kurt has always figured that's why she gravitated toward Blaine.

"Oh, hey, Kurt," Sarabeth said after she caught sight of him. "I thought you left with Blaine and the others."

Kurt shook his head and leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms across his chest. "Is that where everyone is?"

"Alex and Beth are off doing their own thing, but Dad insisted that Jonathan get to know our cousins," Elizabeth interjected. Kurt felt as though she was judging him and immediately wanted to shy away from it.

"And Coop wanted to see if us Brits care about the big Blaine Anderson," Sarabeth joked. "He's really just looking for a paparazzi chance. You know he wants fame like he's dehydrating in a desert."

"Oh." Even in a completely different city, his family was spread out all over the place.

Sarabeth was studying him curiously and suddenly, she stood from the couch and asked Kurt to help her in the kitchen.

"There's some kinda bloody joke in here, I swear," Sarabeth said, opening the fridge and pulling deli meats out.

Kurt snorted. His sister-in-law had a sense of humor he couldn't find in most other women he knew.

"Do you or Blaine need to borrow the sofa in Alex's room down here?" she asked with preamble, pulling bread and condiments toward her. It must've been an Anderson thing to not look at people when they were talking.

"What?"

She repeated the question and pulled her thick, white-blonde hair into a ponytail. "Coop and I hear you two every night. The walls are pretty thick around here, too, so I imagine your rows are pretty spectacular."

"We—"

"Kurt," she said softly, and he was trying to remember if he'd ever seen her without that look, like her face was smirking but her lips were straight and pressed together.

"What?" he asked again, starting to feel dumb.

"My parents divorced when I was seven. I know what marital problems sound like."

"We're not—I mean—he just—"

"I know," she said, her voice still quiet.

Could he trust her? Would she tell Coop about this if he talked to her? And if she did talk to Coop, what were the chances of him talking to Blaine about this?

"Between us?" Kurt asked, knowing he needed to get this off his chest and not quite sure if he'd found a way.

"Between us," she agreed.

"I don't know," Kurt said, his voice breaking. Tears stung his eyes and the earlier ache in his chest blossomed. "We never talk anymore. All we ever do is fight. I feel like he doesn't even notice or pay attention to me. He hasn't in a while. And the only time I ever have his full attention is when we're yelling at each other. It's just—" Several tears escaped and he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I used to be his life. Or a big part of it. Now I just feel lucky if we spend our night under the same roof."

"Oh, Kurt. . . ."

He held up a hand, wiping at his face with the other. "No. No, thank you. I don't want your pity or sympathy or apologies or whatever else you might offer me. It's my marriage. I'm going to fix it."

She held her hands up. "Alright, I won't say anything then." She pointed beyond Kurt's shoulder. "I don't have control over your daughter, though."

He turned to find Elizabeth standing in the doorway, worry filling her features, and he found himself crumbling. There was no way the kids would've not known about the fights and the tears but he knew of the silent pact he and Blaine had to not let this affect them as much as it was apparently doing so. It wasn't their battle. Before she could run off and be upset alone, he crossed the kitchen and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair. A sob built in his throat as she embraced him as tight as her muscles aloud.

"Are you and Daddy gonna be okay?" she asked, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"I don't know, sweetheart," he admitted and held his only daughter closer. Kurt wanted to go home to get away from all the emotions swirling in him; he just wasn't sure where that was anymore.

When they pulled away a few minutes later, Sarabeth wasn't in the kitchen.

Kurt,

It's the first of July. I can't take this silence. I miss you.

You fell asleep on my shoulder about an hour into the flight. I don't know if you'd be upset if you woke up like that and I hate that I'm second guessing myself on that, but I asked the stewardess for a pillow and blanket to let you have your own space anyway.

I miss you. Come home. Please.

Yours forever,

Blaine

They were home for five minutes before Blaine blew up on Kurt for doing his dry cleaning, to which Kurt argued that he was trying to consolidate tasks and Elizabeth retreated to her room for a few minutes before giving up on waiting the storm out and slipping out to meet up with some friends.

"Please tell me this is important," Alex sighed, dark eyes flicking over his younger siblings standing outside his front door.

Elizabeth nodded furiously and pushed him out of the way.

"Sorry about this, man, but she gets in these moods and there's no stopping her," Jonathan muttered as Elizabeth cooed a greeting to Siobhan, who was being looked after by Blaine while Beth made dinner.

"Any idea what about?"

Jonathan bit his lip.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Jonathan gave Alex a look. "It's this crazy idea 'Lizabeth has to avoid Dad-Squared separating."

"I don't even know how to respond to that," Alex said.

"I tried telling her that sometimes people fall out of love and there's no fixing it," Jonathan said. "She wouldn't hear a word about it, just kept going on about how much food we'd need to buy."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "What on Earth is she planning?"

"Hey Dad?" Jonathan called from the front door.

"Yeah?" Blaine called back, still caught up in Siobhan.

"Alex and I are stepping out for a moment. I want to show him a funny sign Elizabeth found on the way here."

Elizabeth turned to look at her brothers, confusion in her brows. "I didn't—"

"The woman with the house made it," Jonathan said, cutting her off.

Recognition sparked in her eyes after a moment and she laughed and her brothers cringed at how transparent she was being. "Yeah, that was a good one. You should definitely show Alex."

Outside, Alex shot down a cigarette offer from Jonathan. "Beth doesn't even like it recreationally with the baby around now."

The younger shrugged. "Whatever. I only picked up the habit to annoy Dad-Squared."

"So what's going on?"

Jonathan punched Alex in the shoulder and jerked his head to the corner of the street.

"Aunt Sarabeth's mom had this house," Jonathan explained in between drags. "Up in Maine. It's on the coast somewhere in the South. Her parents used it as their getaway place when they were tired of England. Apparently they were really rich fuckers and had visas and shit."

Alex watched his brother carefully, not liking where this conversation was headed.

"When Aunt Sarabeth's dad died like fifteen years ago, her mom picked up and moved there full-time. She died about a year ago and Aunt Sarabeth has no idea what to do with it. I don't know how our sister found about this, but she wants to reenact that book she's reading, Nights in Rodanthe, or something like that."

"What happens in the book?" Alex warily asked.

Jonathan flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and shrugged a shoulder. "What I gathered from the Internet is that this couple gets stuck inside a bed-and-breakfast-type place on the North Carolinian coast and they fall in love."

"And Liz would want our dads to fall in love again with this house," Alex mused, finishing the story.

"Exactly."

"Aunt Sarabeth's cool with this?"

"Apparently our aunt is okay with us stranding our two fathers in a Maine beach house."

They watched cars pass, lost in their own thoughts.

"How the fuck would this even work?" Alex asked.

Jonathan gaped. "You're seriously thinking about this?"

"Why not? I mean, it's completely loco, but there's a chance it might work."

"You were agreeing with me last week about Elizabeth overreacting about Dad's hidden divorce papers and now you're agreeing with her that we should lock them up for a month and hope they don't kill each other?" Jonathan shook his head and stomped out the remains of his cigarette. "This family is fucking ridiculous. None of you can make up your minds!"

Alex waited for the manic look in Jonathan's eyes to dissipate before he said, "If you weren't talking to your girlfriend for a long time and someone indefinitely locked the two of you in a room, what would you do? Would you really stay silent until you were let go?"

"No. I'd talk."

"My point exactly," Alex said. "Now come on. I taught Beth how to make enchiladas two weeks ago and I wanna see if she remembers my birth family's secret ingredient."

At dinner, while feeding baby Siobhan, Elizabeth asked Blaine what five things he would take with him if he were on a desert island.

She made sure to ask the others, too, so it looked less suspicious and more inquisitive.

Elizabeth threw a party on July 4th once she found out both her dads would be out for the night at separate events.

Much to her chagrin, Jonathan dealt with the police about the excessive noise complaints from neighbors and Kurt and Blaine never found out about the party.

Kurt listed the family photo albums, a sketchbook and pencils, his phone, his old collection of Disney movies, and the red and navy blue afghan that rested on the rocking chair in the corner of his and Blaine's bed room.

"There's no cell reception," Alex countered.

It took several minutes for Kurt to replace his phone with his husband.

"This is ridiculous," Beth said.

She spoke from the backseat, curled up against Alex, the pair looking decidedly relaxed but slightly worried over leaving Siobhan with Quinn and Noah for the weekend while the four (Elizabeth and Jonathan were riding up front; everyone agreed this would be good driving practice for Elizabeth, who rarely got behind the wheel outside of the city) road-tripped up to Sarabeth's parents' Maine beach house to stock the house with food and memories for Kurt and Blaine.

Jonathan warmed up to the idea once Elizabeth came forward with a solid plan. Now Beth was sort of on board, but still wary if the set of her mouth as any indication.

Alex made a noise of agreement and comfortingly rubbed his thumb against her jean-clad hip.

"It'll work," Elizabeth said fiercely once she pulled out of the tight space against the sidewalk. She glanced at the GPS Jonathan was holding up for her. "I'm taking this up to the highway?"

"If that's what it says," he replied.

"How long is this trip anyway?" Alex asked.

"Six hours," Elizabeth said. "Get comfy."

Kurt,

It's the fifteenth of July.

I don't know where you are, and I'm wondering if you even care about that, but the kids left a note saying they were having sibling bonding time and road-tripped out to the Catskills and the house is really empty. I'm wondering if your presence would even fix that.

I miss you. Come home. Please.

Forever yours,

Blaine

"We're doing the right thing, right?" Elizabeth asked Jonathan in a hushed whisper, unpacking the food they bought at a grocery store a few miles away.

Jonathan looked around him.

"They're putting sheets on beds upstairs."

He frowned. "I don't know. The worst they can do is punish you, right? It's pretty extreme, just leaving them out here with no real way to contact anyone or get back to the mainland."

"There's a landline next to the fridge," Elizabeth pointed out.

Jonathan shook his head, dark curls falling into his eyes that he impatiently swept away. "I'm just trying to imagine every reaction they might have. Most of them aren't good. I mean, we're essentially abandoning our parents on an island off the coast of Maine."

"Desperate times call for—"

"If you finish that sentence, we're no longer siblings."

Elizabeth snorted and stuck her tongue out. "I think it'll be okay. They both need a vacation. When have you seen them not working?"

Jonathan didn't have an answer.