The schedule was the hardest part of wrestling camp. Early mornings, late nights. The midday nap was nice but usually got interrupted by some kind of camper scuffle.

Lauren had cashed in a favor to get an hour long nap in today and yawned hugely as her alarm sounded the end of it. She'd gotten less sleep than usual, but since she'd finally sorted out Puckerman's two week silence, she felt better.

She really should have thought of leaving a threatening message earlier. It would have saved the last two weeks of… not worrying. Having concerns about how stupid her boyfriend was.

Though, after spending half an hour on the phone with him last night she was still worried about how stupid Puck was. Wherever he had called her from had been loud. The one time the buzz of voices and music behind Puck had quieted she'd heard a male voice behind him shouting, "Fuck THAT! Pabst Blue Ribbon!" which couldn't possibly bode well.

Lauren shrugged on a jacket, and headed to the mess hall for dinner, figuring that at least none of the voices had sounded female.

Not that she was worried.

Or jealous.

Not about Puckerman anyway.

Pfff.

Kurt kept his hands at Blaine's neck, refusing to let him pull away.

His dad didn't get to be weird about a little bit of French kissing in the driveway. Not after Finn had tried to suck Rachel's tongue out of her mouth in the foyer on Saturday night. Not after the awful dinner he and Blaine had just had. Not when they both just needed him to be a Good Dad right now.

"What did we do wrong?" Kurt demanded, tightening his grip, just slightly, on Blaine's neck.

"Failed to educate your father on the politics of small town community theater. In the house. Now," he said, slapping his hand against the door frame as he stomped back inside.

Blaine tugged away and started toward the door. Kurt grabbed his hand and forced him to walk in at a reasonable pace.

"Kitchen," his dad called as the door shut behind them.

They walked into the kitchen, where his father was pacing a few steps back and forth in front of the kitchen island and Carol was leaning against the counter.

"Sit."

Blaine dropped into a chair like a puppy on the last day of obedience school. Kurt slunk into the chair next to him and looked up at his still steaming father.

"Why did I just find out from Rachel that Karofsky's in the play?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Because Rachel has a big mouth?"

"The kid who's been harassing you all year just happens to follow you into your summer stuff and you don't say anything about it?"

Kurt looked at Blaine, who look back with his big "I need your dad to like me eyes" that Kurt had been getting sick of and now understood better than he would have preferred to. He turned back to his father. "Okay. Look. I understand and appreciate everyone's concern. But I can handle this."

"Like you handled it last time?" His father demanded.

"It's different now."

"Kurt, he threatened to-"

"I know what he did," Kurt said, voice forceful, but not quite loud. Blaine wrapped his arms around himself. "Okay? I know. And things have changed. There's Bullywhips to consider, and the wrath of Santana to take into account. He apologized to me. Everything's been better at school. It's not as bad as it sounds and I didn't mention it because I didn't want you to freak out for no reason."

"What does some jock want to be in the play for anyway?" His dad huffed.

"Finn wanted to be in the play," Blaine answered quietly.

His dad leaned over the chair at the head of the table, took his hat off and rubbed a hand over his scalp. "Fine. What does a jerk like Karofsky want to be in the play for?"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter. I'm not going to let the Karofsky's of the world dictate my life."

"Kurt… I want you to be who you want to be. But you have to be safe. You both have to be safe."

Blaine bit his lip and leaned further back in his chair. Kurt let his posture relax a little bit. He didn't want to keep having this argument. Karofsky wasn't an issue as long as he had Santana, he didn't want his dad to worry about him, and the longer this went on the more he was beginning to wonder if Karofsky was really worth lying to his father for this long. "Dad, I don't have to run from David this time."

His dad turned to Blaine. "Blaine, help me out here."

Blaine looked from Kurt to his father, confused.

"Burt!" Carol muttered warningly from the counter.

"We're on the same page right, Blaine?"

Wide eyed realization dawned on Blaine's face as he realized what Kurt's father was talking about. Kurt squawked indignantly.

"Dad, stop this now. You are completely out of line."

His father's face fell into the lines that always preceded an "in my house" speech, but softened. He put his hands up.

"Mr. Hummel," Blaine started in his most polite, talking-to-people-who-might-lose-it voice. "I think you and Kurt both have valid points. I think it might possibly be naïve, sorry, for Kurt to trust Karofsky, but if he's ever going to change, then someone has to give him the opportunity to change."

"And you agree with Kurt? That you should give the guy a chance?" He stressed the last part strangely, and Blaine moved his gaze a little more squarely to his face.

"We'll never be alone with him. Either of us. We'll walk out to our cars with Mercedes and Rachel."

"And you will tell me if anything happens. If he gives either of you so much as a weird look, I expect a phone call."

"If anything happens, we will tell you," Blaine said solemnly.

"And we will eat our vegetables and wash behind our ears and look both ways before crossing the street," Kurt tacked on impatiently.

"Kurt, don't be a smartass about this. I am dead serious. If you two aren't going to keep yourselves safe I am going to take steps to keep you both safe."

"Burt… they know," Carol sighed, frustrated. "Okay? They get it. They need to be careful. But…Finn said the same thing. Something happened. Karofsky…. I don't know what Finn thought it was, but things are different. Okay? Can we stop with this now?"

His father crossed his arms for a moment, grabbed the chair he'd been leaning on and pulled it out. Carol stood behind him.

"How was dinner boys?" she asked, her tone tender and apologetic.

Kurt shrugged, still peeved with his father and not quite sure what to say. Only just beginning to worry about what Finn thought was going on.

"Umm… awkward," Blaine replied, the uber polite private school kid thing fading a little as the mood shifted from interrogation to conversation with an unsteady thump like the transmission was starting to go. "It didn't go as well as I was hoping."

Kurt shrugged. "The food was good."

"Yes. The food was good," Blaine agreed, with closed eyes and a little shake of his head. "The conversation was lacking. They were… uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Carol said. "I don't suppose you boys want cupcakes?"

The way Blaine smiled at Carol made something in Kurt go warm.

"That would be lovely."

"Kurt, I made a few without frosting for you."

"Thank you, Carol."

Carol gave them both a tight smile and turned to the cupboard, pulling out bowls and spoons, then cupcakes. As she went to the freezer Finn walked into the kitchen, holding a box with his eyebrows knitted.

"Hi, honey," Carol said, "What are you doing home so early?"

"Oh, Rachel was making some vegan food and I wanted to leave before she made me eat any of it. I talked to the Mr. Berrys for a little while though. I might go over to their house for dinner next week."

"You want a cupcake?" Carol said, setting bowls in front of Kurt and Blaine. "What's with the box?"

Finn shifted the box from one hand to the other. "It was on the steps. Umm… it's for Blaine."

"For me?" Blaine asked.

"Uh. Yeah," Finn set the box on the table and slid it between Blaine and Kurt, where they could both read the address scrawled across it in sharpie.

To Blaine Warbler

(Or Kurt Hummel, but don't open it)

638 Hillcrest Drive (or maybe Lane)

Lima, Ohio 45801

The return address was scrunched into the wrong corner like an afterthought.

Noah Puckerman

The Road

Santana had been losing a staring contest with her computer all night. She'd thought she had bested it by flipping on itunes and reading some Perez Hilton, but that hadn't worked. She gone tried to catch up "Pretty Little Liars" but had zoned out. Finally she had given up, slammed her computer shut and cleaned her room.

But when all of her dirty underwear had been thrown in the hamper and the last remnants of school work had been recycled or tucked away to be forgotten about until September, she still had three unread emails from Brittany in her inbox and they were still all she could think about.

She dropped onto her bed, grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, purposefully ignoring the little browser button. Artie Wheels… Brit-Brit…David Karofsky. She paused, thumb hover over the call button for a moment before she remembered that Dave had been hauled off to a "Guys Night Out." He and his father and his brother were all out to baseball game. Dave had been a little freaked out about why. Apparently baseball wasn't a Karofsky family favorite and he was worried it had something to do with all the talk about the musical.

He'd probably call later to hang out up at Lover's Lane where they could talk about it. Santana smiled, just a little bitterly, to herself. Sometimes it felt like she and Dave were really dating. And worse, he was actually a pretty good boyfriend. Absolutely better than any of the others.

She kept scrolling. Past Finn and a couple of Cheerios that didn't talk to her anymore. She scrolled past the "Lady-Face" entry, felt bad about it, changed it to "Kurt" and tossed the phone own on the bed spread. She grabbed her computer and opened her email.

The first email was a mass send. It was a bunch of pictures of Iceland sent to Santana and Quinn and some of Brittany's aunts and cousins.

The second was just to her.

Iceland isn't cold. I went shopping in my sundress today. You would love shopping in Iceland. How cute are these?

There were three pictures of blouses in a cute little boutique that were pretty much exactly Santana's style.

Santana sighed. Brit really did have an eye for that sort of thing. She and Kurt could join forces and take over the world.

There was one last email. Santana dithered for a moment about whether or not opening it would make the hollow feeling in her chest worse, then clicked it open.

It was only addressed to her, and it was only one line.

I miss you.

Kurt, Finn and Mr. Hummel all watched the box on the table as though expecting it to explode. Blaine was just grateful that it hadn't come to his house. His mother had a tendency to open his mail and then give it to him, and the more he learned about Puck the more he was beginning to worry about Puck having his cell phone number, let alone his address.

"Dude, open it," Finn said quietly, staring at the box.

"Umm… kay. Do you have-" Mr. Hummel, who was looking at the box less intently than Finn, but with about as much worry as Kurt, silently handed Blaine a pocket knife. Blaine pushed his ice cream and cupcake bowl away and pulled the box toward him before carefully slicing it open. It was full of what looked like thin gas station toilet paper and he reached in and pulled a wad out, then another. His hand brushed something soft and he pinched it between his fingers, carefully extracting a mutely green scarf, with a little airplane on the corner.

"Puck sent you a scarf?" Finn asked dubiously.

"Puck sent you a silk Givenchy scarf?" Kurt asked.

"Puck sent it here?" Mr. Hummel said.

Kurt held his hand out and Blaine gave him the scarf and dug back into the box.

"Oh my god it's real, look at the stitching," Kurt said at the same time Blaine added, "Hey, there's a note."

Underneath the toilet paper was a napkin that had been folded in half, but had fallen open.

"Blaine Warbler," Blaine sighed, "Why don't any of your friends know my last name?"

"Wait, Warbler isn't your last name?" Finn asked. Blaine shook his head and continued reading.

"Blaine Warbler, you totally changed my life and I wanted to send you something from my adventures as a thank you. I don't know you that well, so I don't really know what you're into, besides Kurt. So I stole this scarf for you to give him so that" Blaine's eyes got ahead of his mouth and he stopped.

"So that what?" Kurt said, peering over his shoulder. Blaine crumpled the napkin in his hand.

"Nothing."

Finn, who Blaine realized knew Puck better than anyone, also went wide eyed and silent.

Mr. Hummel looked between the guilty faces, sighed, and rubbed his head.

"If you guys forget this happened, I will."

Blaine and Finn nodded in agreement.

Kurt huffed petulantly. "Why is Puck sending you stolen couture?"

"Do you know where he is?" Finn demanded. "Cause he disappeared like a week ago."

"Ummm… not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I don't actually know where he is… but I have a good guess at what he's doing," Blaine said guiltily.

"And what is your good guess is?" Mr. Hummel asked.

"Umm," Blaine unfolded the napkin. "There's a quote down at the bottom of the note."

"A quote?"

"It's umm…" Blaine cleared his throat. "'A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.'"

"What does that mean?" Finn asked, his brow wrinkled deeply.

"It's from "On the Road"," Blaine said. Kurt groaned and understanding began to seep into Mr. Hummel's confused face.

"He was really upset about Lauren leaving for Oregon, and I told him that he should try to take his mind off of it, so I leant him "On The Road"."

"And then he disappeared," Finn supplied.

Mr. Hummel closed his eyes and nodded, defeatedly. "So Puckerman's somewhere between Ohio and Oregon."

"Shoplifting his way west," Kurt added.

Carol shook her head. "I'll go call his mom."

"I didn't think this is how he would react," Blaine explained hurriedly. "I'm sorry."

"Have you heard from him?" Finn asked, grabbing the box and pulling the rest of the toilet paper out of it.

"He's sent me a couple of texts, but I… I thought he was just being weird. Do you want me to try calling him?"

"He never answers and his voicemail's all creeptic."

"Cryptic," Kurt corrected automatically.

"Text him again, tell him we're worried we need to know where the hell he is," Finn said.

Blaine texted Puck and tucked his phone into his pocket, dislodging the napkin, which he dove to recover.

"Is there anything else in the box? A letter or another napkin or anything?" Mr. Hummel asked as Finn pulled the scraps of toilet paper through his hands.

"Check the post mark," Kurt suggested.

Mr. Hummel took the box from Finn and squinted at it for a minute. "Milwaukee. That's only 6 hours from here. He's been gone for what? A week?"

"Maybe two?" Finn said.

Blaine's phone dinged from his pocket. He pulled it out, read the text and sighed. "Puck says, 'I left with my canvas bag in which a few fundamental things were packed and took off for the Pacific Ocean with the fifty dollars in my pocket.'"

"That doesn't sound like Puck." Finn said crossing his arms.

"It's another quote from the book."

Finn threw his head back in an exasperated way that was very reminiscent of Kurt. Under other circumstances Blaine would have found it endearing. Finn brought his head back down and shot Blaine a very accusatory look.

"You had to give him a book."

"Okay. That's enough weirdness for tonight," Mr. Hummel declared. "You boys go… do whatever. Blaine, if you hear from Puck again, let us know."

Blaine nodded, grabbed Kurt's hand and led him back up to his bedroom, dropping onto Kurt's bed. Kurt stayed by the door.

"What did the note say?"

"Umm…"

"Blaine?"

Blaine fished it out of his pocket and read it over again, "I don't know you that well, so I don't really know what you're into, besides Kurt. So I stole this scarf for you to give him so that," he cleared his throat and took a second run at it, "for you to give him so that he'll put out. Or you could jerk him off with it. Santana did that to me with a silk tie one time and it was awesome. Love, Puck."

Kurt looked at the scarf, and let most of it tumble out of his hand, so that it was pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

"And this goes in the dry clean pile," Kurt sighed, dropping it into his hamper on his way to shutting the door. Blaine raised his eyebrows at him, but Kurt just shrugged, and crossed back to the window, which he threw open.

"I'm really sorry about my dad," he sighed.

"Why?"

"Trying to bring up Sadie Hawkins wasn't right."

Blaine sat up and grabbed Kurt's hand. "He's just worried about you. To him Karofsky is just… this bogeyman. A guy who threatened to kill you just because of who you are. He's got no way of understanding how the situation has changed." He tugged Kurt closer, so that Kurt was standing between his legs, and he was eye level with Kurt's navel.

"That doesn't give him the right to bring that into this. To corner you like that."

Blaine set his chin against Kurt's stomach, just because he could. "He's your father. He's scared. It's fine."

"It's not fine."

"Remember when my father assumed that you were the receptionist, even after I'd told him what you actually do at your dad's shop? That wasn't fine. Your dad just cares about you. About us, actually. Me too. It's fine."

"Fine." Kurt said, with a little bit of an edge still in his voice as he pulled away to go and straighten some of his creams and hair products on his vanity that didn't need straightening.

Blaine laid back on Kurt's bed again, his exhaustion from earlier beginning to seep back in.

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"Have you considered just telling your dad the truth?"

Finn stopped in front of Kurt's closed door for a moment, took a bite out of one of his cupcakes and decided to let it go. Drawing attention to Kurt's closed door was not going to help his own quest to get private time with Rachel, and being jealous that Kurt even had a reason to close his door when Finn was never ever going to be allowed to touch Rachel below the waist would force him to think about what Kurt and Blaine might actually do behind a closed door, which he could do without when he was trying to eat a cupcake, no matter how many times he'd scouted for Kurt and Blaine, or how many times he'd told Kurt that they could talk about it bro to bro.

Finn walked to his own room, set his plate of cupcakes on his nightstand and dropped bodily into his bed, letting the cool breeze from his window shift over his sticky skin.

He was a little worried that he might be jealous of Puck crediting Blaine with whatever big stupid adventure he was off on. Rachel was going to go to New York. Kurt was going to go to New York. Blaine was going to go to New York… if anyone wasn't supposed to leave Finn behind it was Puck. And he'd already sort of lost Puck to Lauren.

He was being stupid. He was just worried about Puck. Stealing clothes for Kurt had to be dangerous. Finn had been lectured at enough about how much Kurt's clothes cost. Puck already had a record.

Finn rolled onto his back and reached for his cupcake.

"Remember …. my father ….. the receptionist, even after I'd told him what you actually do at your dad's shop? That wasn't fine. Your dad just ….. About us, actually. Me too…."

He could hear Blaine through his window. It had been so hot so far this summer that he and Kurt had never had their windows open. Finn sat up in surprise.

Kurt said something in response, but his voice was high and soft and harder to hear, so Finn didn't catch what it was.

"Kurt?"

Again Finn didn't hear Kurt's response.

"Can I ask you a question? Have you considered just telling your dad the truth?"

Finn moved closer to the window.

"The truth about what?" Kurt asked.

"The truth about what happened with Karofsky."

Kurt snorted. Finn took another step toward the window.

"Umm… yes. I've thought about it, but no, I can't do it."

"Look, I know you don't think it's your place to say anything, and I get that. I'm onboard. But this is your dad."

"I know. And he's great. And I love him and… it's not always easy… but I know how lucky I am… but I don't think I can impress upon him how important it is to keep this a secret. And the more people who know, the more likely it is that everyone will find out. I can't do that to him. I need David to come out on his own. Too many people already know."

Finn knelt down by his window. So. He'd been right about Karofsky being gay. How the hell had Kurt known? Was it a gaydar thing? Is that why Blaine knew?"

"You. Me. Who else?" Blaine asked, then continued. "Right. Santana. Right. Duh."

"And we're all safe. But… let's say I tell my dad. And he tells Carol. And they run into the Karofsky's at a PTA thing and it just slips out. Let's say Carol tells Finn. Finn'll tell Rachel. Game over. Or Finn accidently says something to Puck and then Lauren puts up posters. Carol accidently mentions it when Mercedes is over."

"Okay. Yeah. I get it. Mercedes tells Sam. Game over."

"Actually-and this is too bad-David probably could've trusted Sam. Sam's best friend growing up was gay. That's why he's always been so cool."

Finn nearly dropped his head onto his window sill. No wonder Sam had always thought Finn was such a tool. Though… he had kind of been a tool with the whole… beware of Kurt thing.

"Oh. Huh. Well… still. I think your Dad will understand. It would make him feel better, and I think you could trust him. It's not like he'd tell Rachel. Neither would Carol."

"But they'd want to know how I know," Finn pressed his ear to the screen, wishing Kurt's voice was just a little lower.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"And he'll-"

"Have another heart attack if he finds out that the guy that's harassed me for years threatened to kill me because he was afraid that I'd tell people that he grabbed me and kissed me and I had to throw him off?" Kurt said, his voice getting farther away as he talked. "Pretty much."

Finn felt a wave of complete disgust roil through his stomach.

He hadn't known. He hadn't really thought about it that hard. He'd been mean to Karofsky for a while… but more or less forgiven him when he thought there had been a chance to get him to come over to the glee side of things. He'd tried to bring him to Dalton to apologize to Kurt. He'd tried to put them in the same room again.

Ugh. He'd let Karfosky walk Kurt around school.

What the hell kind of brother was he?

A blast of music sounded loudly and Finn jumped back from the window in surprise.

"Shit. It's my dad." Blaine sighed. Finn had never heard Blaine swear.

"Are you going to answer it?"

"I have to." He groaned, then his voice came back polite and careful, "Hello?"

Finn told himself that he'd eavesdropped enough for the night, but didn't manage to pull away from the window.

"Oh… Mr. Gustafson's son?... No I hadn't thought about Swarthmore….I could sleep in till almost 6:30 then… umm… you know actually… Kurt and I were going to put in a movie. Well… I know… but I was at the club all weekend… maybe later in the week… but my curfew isn't until 11:00…right. Goodnight." Blaine's voice shifted back to the comfortable, normal tone he used when he was talking to Kurt. "You know, he could at least pretend that he's thinking about something besides getting me away from you. I know for a fact that he has two racquetball partners with kids an NYU. Have I gotten dragged out to play genteel sports with them? No."

"Thank you for making me go to your house in my normal clothes. I'm sorry it didn't go as well as you had hoped."

Finn listened for a little bit longer, wondered why he couldn't hear them talking anymore, then figured it out. He shut the window carefully, pretty sure they didn't notice when it squeaked.