A/N I really, really apologize for the lateness of this chapter! There were major problems with my laptop - viruses and all that jazz.

That Was The Past

It had been one week since Kurt's meeting with Blaine, and really, that was it. Kurt felt a part of him crave more time with Blaine, and unlike the other times only half of him wanted something, Kurt was bent on making his wish a reality. The two had been texting, surprisingly often, and Santana was nearly ripping her hair to shreds in frustration.

"If you want to hang out some more, just ask him!" she would complain, "I'm tired of listening to you going on about how his friendship is 'special'."

It was, with that note, when Kurt texted Blaine his inquisition; the two made plans to meet up again later that evening.

Kurt had been planning to hit up another house that night, after the next door neighbor he and Santana had visited had resulted in Kurt's largest steal yet - four hundred dollars, but decided to postpone it. He was ashamed of how much he really wanted to see Blaine again.

Kurt was reluctant to admit he was beginning to like Blaine. In the beginning, Kurt detested the curly-haired boy for being too (unwillingly) involved in Kurt's life, but during all those coincidental run-ins, Kurt had begun to grow a liking towards Blaine's carefree but multifaceted personality. It was refreshing and enjoyable to spend time with someone who wasn't into crime like he was.

Kurt and Santana were lounging around their makeshift hideaway. The room was cramped, and during the day sweltering hot, but it was the best location they could find. Kurt longed for his old secrete 'apartment' back at the consignment store.

"Santana," Kurt said, standing, "I'm heading out again."

"To meet Blaine?" Santana grouched, rolling over onto her back and staring at the ceiling. Kurt cocked his head to the side, grabbing a jacket but staring at Santana as if she was going to explain her petulance without probing.

"If you want to go out, then go ahead." Kurt buttoned up the large buttons on his black military jacket. "I figured since I'm going out quite a bit, it wouldn't be fair to make you stay in. Just don't get us in trouble." Santana shook her head, rejecting the entire concept.

Kurt pursed his lips, scanning Santana over with a judging eye. "Then don't bitch at me." He said nothing more, only saluted her in farewell as he opened the door and left.

It was rather chilly out, and Kurt pulled his coat more securely around his body, hands shaking. A great gust of wind pushed through him, and Kurt struggled to keep his balance. Above head, clouds began to swirl together in a mesh of vivid and acidic shades of gray. Kurt snarled to himself, but trudged on. He only wished he had a pair of gloves - just warm!, they didn't have to be designer - as he had left his back at the consignment store. At least he had Santana's 'present', the black cap that was cheap but surprisingly comfortable and cozy, though he had left it back in the shed.

Only in Ohio could the weather be beautiful one day and horrendous the next. Kurt hoped Blaine would show, and not bail, but he couldn't place his reasons. Obviously Kurt found a friend in Blaine, so obviously he wanted him to show up - and that was the extent of it.

Obviously. Kurt shook his head.

The two, Blaine and Kurt, were to meet back at the play structure, like their first organized gathering. Idly, Kurt wondered if Blaine's house was far from here, and if the drive was long. He hadn't a clue where he was, as his phone didn't have Internet nor did it have GPS, and it was far too risky to look around town extensively or research his whereabouts at a Visitor's Center. He hoped Blaine's house wasn't too far away.

"Kurt!" someone called, and Kurt let the strong wind turn him, his hair bustling and swaying even in it's heavily styled state. He had taken a potent risk, and had invested in hairspray from a cheap hair salon. He had paid the measly seven dollars with a strained smile, and had nearly ran out of the store at the sight of a picture of him in a Missing section of a newspaper.

"Kurt!" Blaine said, jogging towards Kurt with a hand raised, as if he was signaling a taxi. "Hey."

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Hey yourself," he said, and wrung his hands together, trying to gain friction. "I didn't know if you would show."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Kurt gestured to the weather, the obnoxiously bleak skies and the rough, man-handling wind. Blaine shrugged, adjusting the black wool hat on his head and tightening the scarf around his neck. "No, the weather isn't bothering me. I'm all cozy."

While Kurt tried not to make his displeasure known, a large gust of wind nearly knocked him over. He staggered, and the worn buttons on his military jacket fell open, revealing the slimness of the fabric, revealing the single shirt on Kurt's body. Blaine quirked an eyebrow.

"Only two layers in a temperature like this?" he asked, almost accusatively. Kurt glared, shucking the jacket securely over his frame once again, making a mental note to sew the buttons on more firmly later.

"It's not like I have access to the closet at GQ, Blaine," he snapped, crossing his arms.

Blaine took on a confused expression. "But with all the money you must have…"

Kurt interrupted, holding up an unclothed hand, "I told you last time! It's far too risky shopping in heavily populated stores. Social Services have made it very clear to everyone that I am missing, and I've almost been caught on countless occasions. It's not happening again."

Blaine cocked his head to the side. "Well, all right," he said, "but here. You can take my scarf and we can find somewhere warmer to hang out."

Kurt wanted to feel the strength in a recoil, but found himself unable to spring away from this boy. He sighed, and outstretched his hand, snatching the prickly scarf and wrapping it around his own neck. Blaine smiled, though it was hidden under the tilt of his head. "Looks better on you than it does on me," he mumbled, and Kurt told the unwelcome butterflies in his stomach to settle down, dammit!

"Let's get out the cold." Kurt nodded to Blaine, but glanced around in a tussle of brief looks and resentment over his inability to stay in a public place. "If…there was somewhere to go. Any ideas?"

"There's always coffee!" Blaine offered. Kurt pinched his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger, contemplating. He smiled.

"I'll buy this time."

When they returned to the still abandoned park, thunder rolled - deep, but it went unheard. The two were, to say in the least, wrapped into every word and action of the other. Neither acknowledged the lightning as it rippled across the sky.

As they had done previously, Kurt and Blaine simply stood outside in seclusion while they drank their coffee and talked. Kurt often caught himself when he felt he was spilling something secret, and Blaine, on multiple occasions, had to bite his tongue from asking questions he knew Kurt didn't want to answer.

But that was all right.

Because that didn't limit them to other conversation, that of which came in laughs and stumbled sentences.

Blaine told him about Glee club, a subject Kurt was undeniably in-tuned with. Blaine knew this, of course, and never held back details when show choir came into their talks. Kurt found out how New Directions were doing, at least in competition (which wasn't exactly good). He had never competed against the Warblers, which was the Glee club where Blaine attended school, but he liked hearing about them.

Kurt spoke of his adventures in thieving - about how nearly every time he leaves his home unaccompanied, someone approaches him to ask if they knew him, about he prefers to not steal large amounts of money, as it would be too suspicious and alarming. The last story he told Blaine was regarding the night he left from his old life.

He was still telling it as rumbles echoed across the gray sky.

"I felt miserable," Kurt said, shoving his hands into his pockets, seeking warmth, "Every sound I heard, whether it be a squirrel or my own footsteps, frightened me out of my head. I wasn't ready for what I had to be.

"The first few nights, I skittered around my hideout. I was trying to convince myself that it was my own apartment, and I could do whatever I wanted, but the thought only offered a moment's worth of comfort. After a week of mulling in self pity and thought, I went out and hit up my first house."

A raindrop fell and splattered against Kurt's forehead. He looked up, raised his eyebrows, and wiped it off. "I suppose that's the end of my story."

Blaine nodded, eyes alert and mind obviously turning. Thunder crashed once more, and both jumped in alarm, seeming to gather their wits. Before he could respond, rain began to pour heavily, creating unsightly patterns on their clothing.

"Oh, crap!" Blaine exclaimed, raising his arms above his head. Kurt watched him in amusement; at this point, standing out in the rain did not affect him as much as it would have a year ago - he did have that new can of hairspray that would fix his hair right up.

Kurt opened his mouth, but someone called over his unspoken words. "Ladylips!" a voice yelled over the splattering of rain, "Come over here! We got a situation!"

Kurt turned around quickly, seeing Santana standing in the doorway of the shed. He shrugged helplessly to Blaine, and went to see what Santana wanted. Blaine followed.

"What is it?" he asked upon approaching. He crossed his arms as he and Blaine hopped into the doorway. "Oh."

Water leaked in from the ceiling, piling into puddles and staining their belongings. Santana scurried around, trying to protect her stuff, pushing it into a corner. Kurt scampered to his possessions, saying to Blaine, "Hey, I'll text you later. This might take a while. Patching up the holes, I mean. See you later?"

Blaine's brow furrowed, and he didn't move. Instead, he raised a hand and waved it. "I can't just leave you two to deal with this."

"Oh, yes you can," Santana snapped, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows, "You just walk your ass out that door, Curly, and go wait desperately for Porcelain to call you at a later time. Right now, we just need to stay dry, and unless you have a lease on another hou-"

"But that's the thing," Blaine interrupted, looking at Kurt as the boy straightened himself, "I know there's a foreclosed building a few blocks away from my house. No one goes in there, because they all think it's haunted or something."

Santana scanned him over, crossing his arms and trying to stare him down. Kurt shrugged and continued to tidy his things into a bag away from the water. "We'd have to see the building first." was all he said.

Santana nodded, gestured to Kurt. "Yeah, yeah we would. I don't want to drown in this shitty place, so fine. You can show us."

Kurt knelt down to zip up his shoulder bag, concealing a grin. He and Blaine had spent only five or six hours together, of voluntary time, and Kurt still felt lingering, natural feelings of mistrust and nervousness in his friendship with Blaine, but the feelings of happiness and joy overrode the negative mind-sets.

"Okay, so whenever you're ready, we can go on over!" Blaine smiled gently, stripping off his wet hat. Kurt still wore his scarf, savoring the feel of wool against his neck.

Kurt said, "You can carry this." He tossed over one of their bags, and Blaine caught it. In a moment's time, the three were sprinting through the downpour.

"Will it take a long time?" Santana shouted, adjusting a sack across her back, "It's too cold to run for too long."

"You have a car, though, right?" Kurt asked, looking towards Blaine. Blaine nodded, and Santana raised a hand to the air in merriment.

With rain splashing up their legs and teeth chattering, the three of them reached Blaine's car. Blaine opened the back door, and Kurt took Santana and his things and tossed them in the back. He shrugged an apology as the wet fabric hit the seat. Blaine smiled and didn't seem to become angered by it.

Santana immediately climbed into the back seat with the bags, curling up on her side and closing her eyes. Kurt rolled his eyes, and offered her a blanket from his bag. She got it herself.

Kurt hesitated, wondering if he should get in besides Santana. Blaine noticed his indecision, and beckoned him to the passenger side. "You can sit up here," he suggested, and Kurt grinned broadly. He got into his side of the car and waited for Blaine to start the engine.

Kurt fingered his jacket, feeling it peel away from his soaked shirt with disgust. He wrinkled his nose, but said nothing. Santana grumbled something unintelligible from the back seat.

"Oh, right," Blaine muttered, turning up the heat. Instantly, a rush of cool air hit Kurt's face. He savored the way the bitter air cut at his already chilled cheeks; soon enough, though, the air faded into a warmth Kurt had not completely felt in more than six months. He smiled, hiding his face.

"I'm hungry," Santana grumped. Kurt turned to face her.

"I'm cold," he challenged, raising an eyebrow. Santana narrowed her eyes and sat up. She shook her head, deciding the conversation with him wasn't important enough. She straightened the blanket over her lap, and Kurt leaned down to grab one for himself.

"When are we going to be there, Curly-fries?" Santana asked Blaine, leaning forward to rest her elbows on his arm rest. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"It won't take long," Blaine assured, eyes returning to the road, "A half hour, forty-five minutes at most."

Santana laid herself back down, yawning. "I'm gonna sleep." she announced, closing her eyes. Kurt glanced at her, and reached back to push the blanket more securely around her shoulders. She shrugged his hand off.

Minutes later, quiet snores alerted the awake two to Santana's unconsciousness. Kurt smiled. "I didn't actually think she would fall asleep."

Blaine smiled in return. "It's like you take care of her," he commented softly, wary of Santana's presence.

Kurt tilted his head to the side, considering. "No, I don't think so. I know she is fully able to look after herself, as I am as well, but it's just easier when we're together."

He continued, "Santana and I…we were never very good friends back in high school," Kurt paused at the look on Blaine's face. His lip tugged upward. "Yeah, we went to the same high school. We were in the same glee club, though we talked, we were never good friends."

Blaine said, "Santana Lopez?"

Kurt nodded, mouthed a 'yes'. Blaine grimaced. "Her name is everywhere."

"What?" Kurt asked, bending himself over the armrest to shoot a look at Blaine. "I mean, I know she's been identified, but…"

"It's all over the news, Kurt," Blaine said, looking over Kurt's face slowly, "The cops are after her. She's been reported to steal wallets, cars…"

"No," Kurt muttered, giving Santana's form an incredulous look, "Are you serious? Cars?"

Blaine nodded. "She could wake up at any moment. Shh."

Kurt leaned back in his seat, breathing through his mouth. Cars? He never knew she stole cars, hell, he thought, he didn't know much about her life in the past eight months. He took a shuddering breath.

"Are you all right?" Blaine asked, a concerned look on his face. "I'm sorry if you didn't want to know, I-"

"No, no," Kurt explained, "I'm just shocked, is all. I never knew she went that extensively into stealing."

Blaine let a tugging smile grace his lips. He said playfully, "So breaking into people's homes isn't extensive?"

Kurt shook his head, pressing his lips into a straight line to keep from smiling.

A few minutes later, Blaine's car slowed and pulled into an empty parking lot. Before them, a small building stood, the remnants of a sign hanging in shingles.

Santana awoke with a start, glared at the two of them and got out of the car. The rain was still pouring down heavily, and Kurt and Santana rushed to grab their things and get to the shelter of the building, where Blaine was looking in the window with cupped hands. Kurt slammed Blaine's car door shut and ran towards the front of the building.

"This is it?" he asked, dropping his bags once they were under the canopy roof. "I like it."

"We gotta get in some way, though," Blaine murmured, looking around. Kurt rolled his eyes and picked up his baggage, toting them with him towards the back of the foreclosed shelter. Santana followed, slinging her bags across her back. Blaine ran to catch up with Kurt, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I've got it," Kurt said, crouching next to the lock on the back door. In a minute, the door creaked and Kurt pulled it open, grinning in approval.

"Wow."

Kurt nodded to Blaine, accepting the praise.

The building consisted of a large main room, dusty and unkempt but surprisingly warm. A back room to the left was the only other door in the facility, besides the main and storage door, which the three of them had come in.

Kurt dug in his bag, and conjured flashlights and camping lanterns. He held them up, getting a yell of excitement from Santana and Blaine. He set them on the ground and replaced the batteries, and soon the room was enveloped in a warm, orange light. Santana and Kurt skittered around, surveying the place for cameras or security devices. Once properly assured, Santana began to unpack. Kurt found a mirror on the wall, a small vanity mirror that made him wonder if this store was a clothing store, and he looked himself over. He growled in disgust.

Blaine came over, and saw Kurt's snarl of dissatisfaction. "You look great," he said, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt's eyes widened in shock and he looked at Blaine in the mirror, trying to hide a growing redness to his cheeks.

"C'mon, my gay little friends, let's cuddle around the fire." Santana lounged herself across an array of blankets and pillows she had organized into a collapsed fort a four year old would make.

Kurt nodded and twisted himself away from Blaine, sitting down to face Santana. He pulled a blanket across his shoulders, holding it securely under his nose, waiting for the blush to disappear.

"Well, I had better go," Blaine said, gesturing to the back door.

"You don't have to," Kurt said, voice muffled from the blanket.

"I don't know, I mean-"

"Oh , please, Blaine," Kurt interrupted, lowering the blanket to look at him appropriately, "As much as the humble trait looks good on you, just sit down and warm up with us."

Santana scanned Blaine's standing figure. She pursed her lips, but shrugged. "Come on, boy-toy. Sit your ass down."

"All right," Blaine agreed, shucking off his jacket and sitting, with what couldn't be called a coincidence, next to Kurt. Kurt rotated his body behind him and grabbed a thick blanket. He gave it to Blaine, smiling. Blaine took the material from him, and draped it over his and Kurt's lap.

Santana quirked an eyebrow, whispered 'wanky' in amusement. Kurt ignored her, beckoned to Blaine with a flick of the head to the same.

The dusty, little shop became, at once, a welcoming and comfortable place. With their makeshift lounging area, the three of them found warmth quickly and pleasantly. With the aid of the camping lantern, the orange glow illuminated their faces as they shared the relaxed silence. Briefly, Blaine's head happened upon a thought - a thought that asked himself why he was here. A year ago, he would have never stepped into this place and he would never have wanted to become friends with a criminal like Kurt.

He didn't regret a single thing. He didn't regret meeting Kurt, the mysterious boy who stood in his lawn and stared at him the first night. Kurt, the robber with a fiery attitude who had been held down by Blaine's weight the second time he was in his house. Kurt, the boy he had seen in the park and the criminal who had knocked the breath out of him with one strong punch to the chest.

He couldn't say he didn't like this boy.

Cautiously, Blaine moved his hand to feel around for Kurt's. Under the blanket, where Santana couldn't see, Blaine grasped onto Kurt's fingers with a strong hold. Kurt jerked in surprise, and looked over to Blaine in wonder. Blaine smiled softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. After a tense moment, Kurt relaxed and squeezed back.