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.