Ohio is….nothing like Oregon. And Portland is nothing like Lima, and for that Kurt is grateful. A week into his Winter Break leaves him wanting for the atmosphere of Portland—the friendly residents, the cool shops and restaurants, the hiking trails and woods. But also Blaine.

They text a lot, time zones be damned. They occasionally talk on the phone, and when Blaine's working the night shift at his security job, he'll often times Skype Kurt if Kurt's home, and they'll spend hours talking and laughing, sometimes watching movies together. They make sure to start the film at the same time, and they always end up laughing at how they can hear the sound through the computer.

It's crazy how being apart can make Kurt feel so much closer to Blaine.

He gets picture messages, as Christmas gets closer, of Blaine with Michael and then Blaine with Elaine. He's happy to finally be able to put faces to names, and seeing and hearing how carefree and smiley Blaine is makes Kurt realize that that's a part of Blaine that's often missing when they're in Portland.

When he brings it up to Blaine, Blaine just shrugs on Skype.

"I'm happy here," he says.

"Are you not happy at PSU?"

"No, I am. It's just…when I'm here I have no responsibilities. No work. No bills. Everything is taken care of before. And for a few minutes I can just be me. I can just be twenty-two and carefree and act like a college kid. And I'm surrounded by family."

Kurt bites his tongue, stops himself from saying all the things he wants to.

But they're not your family.

Why aren't you pissed? Your family was terrible to you.

Why do you have to work so much anyway? Can't you take a school loan out?

"I'm glad you're happy," he settles on, because it's true. "When you're happy, I'm happy."

Blaine's cheeks go rosy and even Kurt can pick that up on the grainy webcam.

"Good," Blaine sighs. "Because I am happy."

Kurt wants nothing more than to kiss the bashful smile off of his face.

"You've been spending a long time smiling and staring wistfully at your phone," Kurt's dad comments one afternoon.

They're in Home Depot shopping for some supplies so Burt can fix the guest bathroom. It's old and out of style, and for years Kurt's dad has been working on it whenever he has the time: retiling, putting a new toilet and sink in, fixing up the shower.

His plan for this weekend is to scrub down the tiles in the shower and insert a new shower head and tub faucet. He asked Kurt to come and help him pick out something that looks good. Finn's the one who actually uses that bathroom—Kurt has his own in the basement and Burt and Carole have one in their bedroom—but he looked at Burt like Burt was on crack after being asked his decorative opinions.

"I have not!" Kurt shoots back.

He hasn't told his father about Blaine. Not for any particular reason except for the fact that he's not sure what to say. Up until two weeks ago they were just friends.

Burt fixes him with a stare and Kurt cracks under the pressure.

"Oh, fine," he sighs. "I may be seeing someone," he smiles, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

He's never had a problem sharing details about his romantic life with his father. Burt always wants to know, always wants to see pictures, and was always extremely patient when Kurt was in high school and had crushes on boys—famous and non-famous alike—and had to talk about them 24/7 and show pictures of them to everyone and swoon rather loudly and obviously. But with Blaine something feels different. He stopped his exaggerated swooning mechanisms after he graduated high school and has opted for a more subdued tactic, but there's still something about Blaine that makes Kurt want to both jump up and down with joy and scream at the top of his lungs, and keep his excitement quiet and in his pocket for only him to treasure and help grow.

"Want to tell me about him?"

Kurt bites the inside of his cheek thinking as he walks down the aisle. He's not sure what information to divulge. In the end his excitement wins out.

"His name is Blaine," he starts with, smiling already. He can't control his lips and he's smiling so broadly his cheeks are starting to hurt.

"We met at a party a few months ago. We have a mutual friend, some mutual acquaintances." He stops to check out the bath tub faucets, figuring out which one he likes best.

"And?" Burt pushes.

"And I really like him," Kurt says looking up at his father, still smiling.

"Ever gonna tell me about him?" Burt ribs, smirking.

Kurt laughs. "No. I was going to keep it a secret until after we were married and adopted an Asian baby."

"Smart aleck," Burt replies, squeezing the back of Kurt's neck.

"It's all very new. We were friends for a bit. Went on a date the Friday before I came home. So really, it's all very new."

"And you're happy?"

"Incredibly so," Kurt replies.

"Good. I'm glad," Burt says, patting Kurt on the shoulder.

Within the next two hours they have everything they need and are back at home eating sandwiches and chips for a late lunch, talking about classes and neighborhood gossip and what's going on in the world.

For most of Winter Break Kurt hangs out with friends. He goes to a few parties, celebrates New Years' in Columbus trying to sneak into bars with his fake ID. It works a few times. But in the end he and his group crash at a friend's house in the city, watching fireworks from the roof and drinking more alcohol than necessary.

Blaine's in Seattle for New Years', and he and Kurt keep up a semi-constant stream of drunk texts throughout the night that Kurt looks back on the next day and blushes.

He gets a phone call from Blaine in the evening when Kurt's finally back at home and nursing the afterglow of a bad hangover with the only cure he knows—more alcohol.

"Hey," he says in the phone after looking at the caller ID.

"So last night was fun," Blaine says.

"I have to admit, I don't remember half of it," Kurt replies, taking a sip of his vodka cranberry. His father looked at him dubiously when he saw Kurt pour himself the drink, but didn't say anything about it.

"You texted me a shirtless picture," Blaine responds.

Kurt puts his drink on the table beside him and groans, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"I saw that," he admits. "I don't remember doing it."

"I don't know how you did it," Blaine laughs. "What did you tell your friends when you stowed away to the bathroom and began undressing?"

"I do recall reading a text message before that with you daring me to send you a nude. So you can't say this is all my fault," Kurt retorts.

"While it wasn't the nude I wanted, I am very happy for the picture. Mainly because you look like a drunk mess. It will be good blackmail one day." Kurt can practically hear the smile on Blaine's face.

"I can't believe I actually did that," Kurt laughs. "Ugh. What is wrong with me?"

"Hey! Don't be mean to yourself. I enjoyed that picture."

"Please don't tell me you jerked off to that monstrosity of a grainy cell phone pic."

"Alas, I did not. But I did shove it in the air rather emphatically and scream, 'THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND EVERYONE. THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND.' It wasn't until this morning that I actually realized you are, in fact, not my boyfriend."

"Now you're going to have to call them all back and relay the information," Kurt says, grabbing his glass and drinking again. "By the way, thank you."

"For what?" Blaine asks.

"For the Christmas gifts."

On Christmas Eve Blaine texted Kurt, telling him to open the square box. Inside was the Christmas ornament that Blaine had made on their date. Next to it was a note:

I thought of all the places I could put this, with you would be the best.

Kurt immediately put it on his tree and took a picture, sending it to Blaine. Blaine immediately called him back and Kurt thanked him, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt as his dad looked on from the couch. When he woke up for Christmas the next day and opened Blaine's other gift, he was surprised to find a beginner's level guitar book. On the inside Blaine wrote, To help teach you to play guitar. But really this gift is more for myself. Because I like teaching you something new. Gives me an excuse to touch you.

That gift led to an even larger blush and then a hint of guilt, as he didn't get Blaine anything.

"Well, I'm glad you like them," Blaine replies. "I'm excited to teach you more on guitar."

"Better watch out. One day I might be better than you."

"Dear God, I hope so," Blaine groans. "I fucking suck at guitar. If I'm even half as good a teacher as I think I am, you'll be better than me in no time."

"That's not true!" Kurt defends. "You can't say you suck at guitar when you can play jazz songs from memory."

"Sucky versions of amazing jazz songs, Kurt. I put those artists to shame."

"Everyone puts those artists to shame," Kurt says, rolling his eyes. "Stop comparing yourself to the greats."

"Is this your way of saying I'll never be a great jazz musician?" Blaine asks, sarcastic defeat evident in his voice.

"Did I just ruin all of your hopes and dreams?" Kurt asks, playing along.

"You crushed them," Blaine sighs.

"Cheer up, chap. You can always be a groupie."

"Looks like that's all I'll ever have in life."

They spend the next hour talking. Kurt asks about Michael and Seattle and all the adventures Blaine is having, and Blaine answers in detail, giving lofty descriptions of the parks he's visited and the lake he went kayaking in, and the parties he's been to and the people he's met. Kurt listens reverently, a smile on his face.

It's never been so easy, he thinks, making the transition from friends to something more.

Blaine gets back to Portland on Saturday. Kurt on Sunday. Classes start on Monday.

It was weird, at first, for Kurt, getting used to the way Portland State is set up. It's trimesters instead of semesters, and he's in school longer than his friends are. He gets out later than them. In the summer when all of his friends are posting pictures to Facebook and partying and hanging out, he has a month of school left. And at the end of the summer, in August, when all of his friends go back to school, he's stuck at home in Lima for a month by himself because his classes don't start until the first week of October. He also hates hearing his friends bitch and moan and complain about finals week, because all of his friends only have finals twice a year. He has them three times a year. So it took him a while to get used to the set up, but now that he's halfway through his second year, he's finally comfortable with the way things are.

What he's not comfortable with is the number of times he can see Blaine that first week.

Blaine goes right back into his work schedule the minute he gets home. He has a graveyard shift that Saturday after he gets back, works at the University on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and does his homework in between.

He and Kurt talk, and while Blaine admits on multiple occasions that he wishes he could spend more time with Kurt, he doesn't do anything about it.

Kurt had all these lavish ideas of seeing Blaine that first week and spending time together and making out and playing guitar and listening to music.

In reality he doesn't see Blaine until Friday evening.

Blaine doesn't have any classes on Friday, but he works nine to five. He tells Kurt to come to his pace afterwards and they can eat dinner and hang out.

The minute Kurt walks into Blaine's house he's enveloped in a hug, and all the stress he had about not seeing Blaine floats away. Blaine doesn't work tonight, thankfully, and they have the option of going to a party together and seeing their friends. Instead they end up talking and cuddling on the couch and making out. It's exactly what Kurt wanted to do, just delayed by five days.

When Blaine sucks lightly at the sensitive skin behind his ear while they're lying down on the couch, Kurt thinks he could probably forgive Blaine for working so much if it means he gets to share this with him.

"So I was thinking," Kurt says softly the Wednesday after. "We should go out on another date this weekend."

They're sitting in the library at a small table meant for only two people in the corner of the third floor. Blaine's working on some engineering or physics homework—Kurt can't even understand half the words written on Blaine's worksheet—and Kurt's reading a play for hi theatre class, Long Day's Journey into Night.

"I definitely second that date plan," Blaine says, still writing furiously on graph paper.

"When are you free?" Kurt asks, still looking up from his play.

"Uhm," Blaine says distractedly. He goes quiet for about a minute while he writes. "Sorry. Had to finish that problem. I'm uh. I actually don't think I'm free this weekend," he says, looking at Kurt apologetically. "Next weekend?"

Kurt tries hard not to physically bristle at that.

"Sure," he says. And maybe he says it rather coldly, but he can't help but feel a little dejected. How is he supposed to date a guy that literally has no time to date?

"Kurt," Blaine sighs, and he sounds tired. He reaches across the table and grabs Kurt's hand, forcing Kurt to put his play down. Blaine squeezes it and looks into Kurt's eyes. "I'm sorry, okay. I really, really am."

Kurt releases a pent up breath.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm not angry or anything. Just a long week. Whoever thought syllabus week would be so intense?"

"I know what you mean," Blaine says, still holding Kurt's hand. "I'm already behind and we haven't even been in class a week."

Kurt lets out a wry chuckle.

"Ugh. This is gonna be a tough tri. I'm taking more credits than I ever have."

"Yeah?" Blaine says. "Why?"

"I've decided I want to double major."

"Kurt! That's awesome. Theatre and Marketing?"

"Yeah. The Theatre major is going to be harder to complete on time because it requires so much outside work. But I really want it. It's just fun to be a part of."

"What kind of outside work?" Blaine asks, threading his fingers with Kurt's and scooching his chair closer.

"Like, I have to help out on plays, doing set work or costuming or lighting or sound. Not just acting. So it requires a lot of weekends and time and rehearsals."

"You can do it," Blaine replies matter of fact.

"I know I can," Kurt replies with confidence. "It's just that…you work all the time, and I don't want this to get in the way of us seeing each other." He can't really look at Blaine when he says that, embarrassment flooding his cheek.

"Okay. First," Blaine starts. "Never don't do something because of me. Don't ever let me stop you from doing something you want. Second. Kurt," he says seriously, squeezing Kurt's hand again. "We will find the time to hang out and go on dates. I promise. We will just have to manage our time a bit more efficiently."

"Promise?" Kurt asks.

"Yeah," Blaine responds.

They disentangle their hands, preparing to go back to their own work, when Kurt blurts out, "God. I feel so needy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"You're not needy," Blaine replies. "I want to see you, too. I wish we saw more of each other," he shrugs.

"Well, at least we're on the same field."

Blaine looks at him with eyebrows furrowed and his lip pulled up into a small smile.

"Same field?" He chuckles.

"I was trying to come up with a sports metaphor!" Kurt admits, smiling.

"Never do that again," Blaine shakes his head. "You're ridiculous."

"Ugh. I am. This has been the strangest week."

"Shake it out," Blaine suggests. "Next week will be better."

After that conversation Blaine and Kurt do make more of a concerted effort to see each other, even if it's for only a few minutes in between classes or work.

They eat dinner together when they can, and Fridays become their unofficial date night.

Blaine gets out of work at five and he doesn't have to be at his night job until around eleven or midnight, so he normally goes home and naps for an hour and Kurt meets him at his place at six or seven for dinner. Some nights they'll go out and watch a movie or go somewhere. And on a few occasions Blaine is able to leave his work study job early, affording them a few more precious hours together.

They spend two months like this, and Kurt's happy. He's working lights on the school's next play, and Blaine has already promised to come to at least two of the shows—they end before his shift starts anyway, so it works out rather perfectly.

It's the beginning of March and the weather is taking a small turn for the better, and Kurt and Blaine are hanging out in a local park eating and talking and occasionally playing Frisbee. Kurt sucks at it, but Blaine is steadfast in his belief that practice makes perfect. It's a rare Saturday where Blaine has the whole day off. He doesn't have to work until Monday, and Kurt is making the best of it.

"I'm happy the weather is nice today," Blaine says.

They are lying on a towel in shorts and t-shirts, their light jackets thrown off to the side. Blaine's sitting up and Kurt has his head in Blaine's lap, staring at him through his sunglasses.

"Blaine, when was the weather not nice?"

"It's been winter!" He says. "It's been cold."

"You call fifty degrees cold?" Kurt responds.

"Yeah!" Blaine laughs.

"One day you'll experience an east coast winter and you'll probably die, actually."

"The prospect of snow is terrifying," Blaine retorts. "My socks would get wet."

"We wouldn't want that," Kurt shakes his head.

"I guess I could buy boots."

"That's one solution."

"What's another?" Blaine asks.

"Stay on the West Coast," Kurt laughs.

"I think it's about time I spread my wings," Blaine says, nodding his head.

"Just don't spread them too wide. It would be tragic if they got caught in something."

Blaine laughs and shakes his head.

"So on a side note, I was thinking."

"That can never be good," Kurt responds

Blaine cards his fingers through Kurt's hair, and Kurt sighs in contentment.

"I was thinking that you know what would be really awesome?"

"A taco right about now."

"Even better than a taco," Blaine says.

"Blaine. Nothing is better than a taco," Kurt replies passionately.

"I think you'll like this idea better."

"Wow me with your wisdom," Kurt says, gazing up at Blaine, who's wearing a pair of jeans rolled up into capris, a black and white striped shirt, and a pair of black sunglasses.

"How awesome would it be if we were boyfriends!" Blaine smiles.

Kurt almost chokes on his saliva.

"Well. That is certainly different than my taco idea."

"I was thinking that we should probably be boyfriends."

"Yeah? And what's the thought process behind that?" Kurt smiles.

"It just makes sense, y'know? It's the next step in the process. We court. We date. We eventually commit ourselves to each other for eternity." He says this all nonchalantly, moving his head back and forth with every situation he says.

"One of us gets knocked up and bears our children."

"Exactly," Blaine responds. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Well then I suppose you're right. We should be boyfriends," Kurt responds, voice high as he plays along.

"Whew!" Blaine sighs. "I'm glad I got that over with."

"Anxious?" Kurt laughs.

"Not as anxious as I am to officially change my Facebook relationship status!" Blaine replies.

"You're such a bro," Kurt shakes his head.

"Your boyfriend is a bro."

Kurt nods his head in agreement. "My boyfriend is a bro."

"So I was thinking," Kurt says one Saturday, kissing down Blaine's chin, making his way to Blaine's neck. "That we should do something for Spring Break."

"Yeah?" Blaine says breathlessly.

They're lying on Blaine's bed in just their boxers, taking advantage of a random free day Blaine has before he has to leave for his graveyard shift that night.

"Yeah," Kurt says, nuzzling into Blaine's neck.

"Do what?" Blaine asks, squeezing Kurt's sides, huffing out a grunt when Kurt's lips attach to the sensitive spot on his neck and suck.

"Go somewhere. Like Canada," Kurt says, kissing Blaine's collarbone. "Or Seattle."

"Ungh," Blaine responds. "Keep going."

Kurt moves down to Blaine's nipple and gives his a soft kiss, watching as Blaine shivers.

"You up for it?"

"Hmm?" Blaine says, hands moving to Kurt's thighs, forcing Kurt to straddle Blaine.

"For traveling together?"

"Can't," Blaine replies, moving his head to catch Kurt's lips in a kiss.

Kurt gives in, but pulls away quickly. Blaine moves to Kurt's chin instead, leaving kisses in his wake.

"Why?" Kurt asks, voice less breathy.

"Can't afford to," Blaine replies, still kissing Kurt's jaw line.

"Why not?" Kurt pushes.

"Flights and hotels and food…too much money."

"But we could get it cheap," Kurt supplies, sitting back on Blaine's legs.

Blaine releases a sigh and rolls his eyes.

"Kurt, please. Can we just go back to what we were doing?"

"No. I wanna talk about this."

"Okay. What would you like to talk about?" Blaine asks, voice snippy.

"Why you don't want to go on vacation with me, for starters."

Blaine sighs.

"Kurt. There is nothing I would like more than to go on vacation with you. But I just can't."

"Why?" Kurt asks, petulance underlining his curious tone.

Blaine runs his hands up and down Kurt's naked thighs, no doubt as a way to sooth Kurt.

"One, I don't have the money. And two, even if I did…Kurt," he sighs emphatically. "A week is a long time to take off of work."

"But you could do it, couldn't you?"

"Theoretically I could ask my boss for it, yeah."

"And would he give it to you?"

Kurt watches as Blaine thinks about it for a few seconds. "Yeah. He probably would."

"Then why don't you ask?!" Kurt says.

"Because like I said, Kurt," Blaine reinforces, tone strong. "I don't have the money in the first place. That's like a thousand dollars I could use for something else!"

"Pick up a few shifts now," Kurt suggests.

"No," Blaine says more forcefully.

"Please?" Kurt asks, batting his eyelashes, hoping to seduce Blaine into the idea.

While he and Blaine get every Friday to hang out, Kurt still wishes they had more time together. This isn't a problem he's had with any of his previous boyfriends. And although they've worked around scheduling conflicts and often spend the night at each other's places during the week, there's nothing Kurt wants more than to spend an entire week uninterrupted on a fun adventure with the guy he's sort of kind of completely falling for.

"No," Blaine says again, vehemently.

"Pleeeaaaseee?" Kurt whines, and he knows he's starting to sound desperate, but he doesn't care. He knows this is an argument he can win.

Blaine shakes his head and pushes Kurt off, and Kurt falls to the bed.

"Hey!" He shouts.

Blaine bends over and grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on, grabbing his jeans next.

"I'm done with this," he says, seemingly to no one in particular, and he walks out of the room.

Kurt spends the next fifteen minutes sitting in Blaine's bed, feelings wavering from anger to hurt to guilt to pain. When Blaine never comes back Kurt puts his own clothes on and walks out of the bedroom.

Blaine's curled in on the corner of the couch, strumming his guitar lazily.

"Hey," Kurt says warily.

Blaine doesn't reply, just keeps playing, staring at his fingers strumming and moving.

Kurt takes a tentative step forward, not sure if he should grab his stuff and leave or try and sort this whole thing out. His first priority is to gauge Blaine's feelings. He's not sure what exactly he's walking into.

But a few minutes standing awkwardly leaves Kurt more than a little put out.

"So are we just not going to talk about this?" He asks.

Blaine plays a few more chords.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Kurt," he responds drily.

Kurt doesn't know what he wants Blaine to say either. He just wants Blaine to say something.

Kurt crosses his arms and grabs his shoulders, feeling defenseless and scared.

When nothing more happens and nothing else is said, Kurt wavers.

"Okay then," he whispers. "I'll just…"

Blaine still doesn't do anything, so Kurt walks back to Blaine's room to grab his jacket and put his shoes on. He passes the living room again, Blaine still sitting quietly with his guitar. He walks out of the door not sure how he should feel.

The total silence doesn't even last the rest of the day.

Kurt wants nothing more than to break it, but he thinks the ball's in Blaine's court now, so he waits anxiously. He heads to the library after an hour of frantic pacing in his dorm, and gets some homework done. Afterwards he trudges to the cafeteria to grab some food, scarfs it down, and steals a sandwich for later, throwing it into his bookbag.

When he gets back to his dorm room his roommate is out. Kurt assumes he's pregaming or hanging out with friends. He was actually kind of hoping Martin would be there so he would have something to stop his mind from wandering. It's the beginning of March and the trimester ends in a few weeks. He figures it's about time they have their first real fight, but it surprises him how off keel he feels.

He spends the rest of the night lying in bed with his laptop watching Netflix and staring at his phone. Of course the one time he wants a distraction is the one time he gets absolutely no text messages from any of his friends.

A little after eleven his phone lights up with a text.

Can I call you tomorrow?

It's from Blaine, and Kurt isn't sure whether he should heave a sigh of relief or intake a breath of anxiety.

Yeah. You at work?

Heading there

If you get bored you can call tonight

I don't want to keep you up

Blaine, I won't be sleeping.

I'll think about it. I just have some things I need to sort out first

Okay

In the end Kurt spends the next few hours drifting in and out of an uncomfortable sleep. At three in the morning his phone begins buzzing, and Kurt lazily grabs it and swipes to accept the call.

"Hey," he says, voice a little raspy from sleep.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Blaine says, sounding tired.

"No. You didn't," Kurt says, even though it's half a lie. He thinks Blaine knows that, too. If he does he never says anything.

"So can we not fight? Like, I just want to preface this by saying I don't want to fight with you. Fighting with you is the last thing I want to do."

"Yeah," Kurt heaves out a shaky breath. "I don't want to fight."

"There are just some things I have to say, and I don't know how to say them."

Kurt swallows, not sure if Blaine is taking time to collect his thoughts or if he is waiting for Kurt to interject somehow.

"You know I'll always listen, right?" Kurt asks. "

"Yeah," Blaine says. "This is just…hard, for me."

Kurt can just imagine Blaine sitting at the security desk in his security outfit, school book open in front of him, hair a mess, dark shadows under his eyes. Blaine has four more hours left in this shift.

"Can we meet tomorrow?" Blaine blurts.

"Yeah," Kurt replies. "Uh, my place or yours?"

"Whatever you want. I really don't care."

Kurt knows that Blaine's place would probably be easier, this way Blaine won't have to wake up after a long night shift and get dressed and bike over. Also, Blaine has the luxury of having his own room.

"Your place. Whenever you want. There will be more privacy there."

"Yeah. Okay. Probably in the late afternoon or evening."

"I can bring something to eat," Kurt says. "Make dinner or something."

"That sounds perfect," Blaine replies, and Kurt thinks he can almost hear a ghost of a smile. "Kurt?" Blaine asks.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you," Blaine replies, voice quiet yet sturdy, strong but sad.

"I really like you, too," Kurt whispers back, eyes beginning to water against his will.

They talk for another hour about nothing special. They talk about music and movies and books they've read. Blaine tells Kurt about a project he's helping his work study boss with at the school—how he's helping to oversee a water filtration system that can hopefully be implemented one day in third world countries.

When five-thirty rolls around and the sun is threatening to rise, Blaine says goodbye.

"Go to sleep," he says. "There's no reason we both have to stay up."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow?" Kurt asks.

"Actually," Blaine smiles, "You'll see me today."

Kurt releases an exhausted laugh and says goodnight.

New chapter on Friday. Thoughts, comments, concerns, and reviews are always welcome.