A/N: Before I begin the next chapter of the story, I would like to discuss one thing in the previous chapter that I know slightly offended a few readers: Layne's comment about Toby's "Catholic" parents.

To address this: I am a writer. The opinions of the characters I create do not necessarily reflect my own opinions or beliefs. I have a very religious Catholic friend who also happens to be bisexual- I understand that not all Catholics are homophobic. I, myself, am a Protestant by affiliation and the church I used to attend was very warm and welcoming and open.

However, Layne's only experiences with religious people have been bad ones, mostly involving her standing up for her younger brother against homophobes. She is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, and her outlook is very limited, much like Kurt's.

In fact, she and Kurt share very similar outlooks on religion. Both of their reasoning lies behind their experiences of homophobic religious people, which has had a direct impact on both of their lives. Like Kurt, Layne is very much an atheist.

Interestingly enough, Blaine is not. He firmly believes in God. He's not religious in the conventional sense; he doesn't even own a Bible. But he believes more in the idea of something out there, something bigger than us. He prays when he needs guidance.

To reiterate: I don't necessarily believe the things I have my characters say, any more than the writers of Glee do, or any of the actors who portray those characters do. However, I understand and appreciate the concern that I may have offended some Catholics by making such a generalized assumption in Layne's dialog.

Phew. Okay. Now. Have you guys heard the Regionals spoilers yet? If half of that stuff is true, this is going to be one bitchin' episode.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Blaine woke up Saturday morning with Kurt once again tucked under his arm, cuddled up to his shoulder. He took a moment to inhale deeply and smile happily to himself, pulling the other boy in closer and wrapping an arm more tightly around him.

He could really get used to this.

Kurt mumbled something sleepily, burrowing his face into Blaine's chest, rubbing his eyes blearily with one fist.

"Good morning," Blaine said calmly.

Kurt's entire body twitched and he jerked his head back, staring at Blaine. "Oh my god, I thought you were a pillow!"

Blaine laughed. "Ready for another adventure?"

Kurt sat up, running one hand through his adorably ruffled hair. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"I was thinking... you haven't gone swimming in the gulf yet," Blaine suggested.

"One, yes I have, technically. I fell off the pier last night." Kurt said.

"I was wondering why you were soaking wet."

"Two, no, do you know what salt water will do to my skin?"

Blaine pursed his lips, thinking hard. He wanted Kurt to experience gulf swimming, and seeing Kurt in a bathing suit was just an added bonus.

"How's this," he said, finally. "You come swimming with me today, and I wall schedule appointments for us tomorrow at the best spa around- for the full works. Whatever you want."

It was worth the money he'd have to shell out for the grin on Kurt's face. "It's a deal," Kurt said happily.

"I call first shower," Blaine said, leaping out of the bed and grabbing his towel off the hook on the wall before Kurt could say anything else.

Jane was, unsurprisingly, absent from breakfast. Other than a slight clench of Blaine's fists, he appeared not to notice the missing girl.

"What are you two up to today?" Wendy asked. She seemed almost apologetic, and her eyes kept darting to the corner where Jane would normally be sitting.

"We were going to go swimming," Blaine said, his mouth twisting into a smile. He glanced sideways at Kurt. "Kurt's never swum in the ocean before."

"Really?" Wendy asked in surprise.

Kurt shrugged. "We never went when I was younger, and I sort of refused to go when I was older. Bad for your skin," he explained, at Wendy's questioning look.

"I was thinking we'd just pack a picnic," Blaine said.

Wendy tossed an apple at Kurt, who caught it with one hand.

"Have fun," she said.

Kurt tried not to look confused.

He shouldn't have been surprised at the sheer size of the Andersons' kitchen. And he wasn't, really, although he did wonder why on earth a family their size would need four ovens.

He tried to act unfazed as Blaine pulled a picnic basket down from the top of the very large pantry.

"I know you're particular about what you eat," Blaine said, "so choose what you want. I'll eat whatever you pack."

"Of course you will," Kurt said, rolling his eyes fondly, and strolling over to open the other pantry door.

There was just so much food.

Blaine began pulling fruit out of various cupboards, along with cutting boards, and Kurt threw several varieties of granola bars into the basket, before joining Blaine at the counter. He took his own knife and cutting board and began slicing pineapples in an intricate fashion, something his mom had shown him nine years ago.

It was sort of like the other night with Blaine Jr again. Something inside Kurt's head couldn't help but think of what things could be like in ten years, in twenty years- flashing images of what it would be like if he and Blaine were doing this in their own house- laughing and talking and cutting fruit into a fruit salad, their hips bumping together companionably. Something in his chest twisted.

Before he could stop himself, he imagined further. He imagined coming home in the evening to Blaine cooking something on the stove, he imagined himself hanging up a Rick Owens coat and walking up behind Blaine to place a hand on his hip and a kiss on his cheek. He imagined the way Blaine would laugh, turning into the embrace.

"Kurt?"

Kurt blinked.

Blaine was grinning at him. "You zoned out a little there."

"Sorry," Kurt said, a little breathlessly, reaching for an apple.

"Don't apologize, I was just worried you were going to cut your fingers off," Blaine said, nudging Kurt a little with his hip. "The situation had 'potential disaster' written all over it."

Kurt finished slicing the apple he was working on and dropped the wedges into the Tupperware container filled with various pieces of fruit.

"Ready to go?" Blaine asked, tucking a loaf of bread into the basket, filled with bright-eyed enthusiasm. Kurt couldn't help but smile as he stepped forward to take the basket from him, and gestured for him to lead the way.

xxxxx

"Come on!" Blaine splashed a little in the water around his waist, as if to demonstrate how much fun it could be. "This water is about seventy degrees. Please?"

Kurt sniffed haughtily. "It's also salt water, Blaine."

"And I promised you a trade," Blaine said, patiently. "Salt water for spa day. Come on."

"It feels so wrong. My skin will be so angry with me," Kurt muttered, gingerly wading up to his knees into the water.

"Forget the consequences on your skin for five minutes and just enjoy how it feels," Blaine said, leaning back until he was floating on the surface of the ocean, staring up into the sun, directly overhead. "Isn't it nice?"

Kurt sighed, then admitted, "it's wonderful, actually."

It was worth sacrificing his pride and skincare regimen to see the beaming smile that spread across Blaine's face at his words.

"Now, was that so painful?"

"Yes," Kurt muttered, and Blaine's grin widened.

"Come on." He reached for Kurt's hand.

Hesitantly, Kurt took it, allowing himself to be pulled deeper into the water. It was warm, caressing his body in a soothing way.

"Dunk your head under," Blaine challenged.

Kurt glared at him. "Are you insane?"

"I get that question far more than I'm comfortable with," Blaine said, thoughtfully.

"I'm serious, Blaine," Kurt said warningly.

"So am I. Come on, I'll do it too."

"Like that counts for anything," Kurt grumbled, but he took Blaine's hand. "You owe me. Big time."

"I already owe you big time, for a lot more things than this."

Kurt raised his eyes to Blaine, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

"You don't owe me for anything else," Kurt said quietly. He wasn't sure if Blaine had heard, but after a moment, Blaine turned to smile at him.

"So, are you ready to do this?"

"I can't believe I'm actually letting you."

But it was hard to deny Blaine anything, especially when he was smiling like that, so he took a deep breath, and let Blaine pull him underwater.

It was surprisingly easy, being carefree. After their muscles had grown tired from swimming, the two dragged themselves out of the water onto the beach, collapsing onto their already laid-out towels.

The beach was surprisingly empty for such a beautiful day. There were as few other families as there were clouds in the sky.

Kurt rolled his head to the side. Blaine had his eyes closed, his face tilted to the sun. His eyelashes were wet and clumped in tiny points, casting shadows just below his eyelids. For a moment, Kurt could only stare in dazed distraction.

After a minute, Blaine rolled his head to the side as well, and his eyelashes fluttered open. He smiled a lazy smile. "Hey."

"Why isn't anyone here?" Kurt asked.

Blaine let his eyes drift shut again. His lips moved. "This is more of a private beach than a tourist beach," he murmured. "So while this seventy degree weather is like heaven to us, the locals are shut up in their houses wearing sweatshirts with the heat cranked up."

Kurt yawned widely.

"Might as well enjoy this vacation as long as it lasts," Blaine said, stretching his arms over his head. "You know as soon as we get back we'll be worked to the bone for Regionals."

"Wes the perfectionist," Kurt said fondly.

"We only have two weeks," Blaine reminded him. "He has a right to be type-A about it."

Kurt sighed. "I guess I just still can't believe how different this all is from my old school. At McKinley, we didn't even start worrying about our numbers until the week before."

"To each their own," Blaine said, and his tone was actually a little wistful.

Kurt propped his head up on one hand. "What's up?"

"Do you ever miss them?" Blaine asked, answering Kurt's question with another.

Kurt laughed incredulously. "Are you kidding me? I miss them all the time. I mean, I got to see them at Mercedes' party, but that's because she's my best friend. She would have killed them if they didn't invite me. They've already started to forget about me, I can feel it. They forget to invite me to their parties. They're forgetting me."

"You're not happy at Dalton." It wasn't a question.

Kurt hesitated, then rolled back onto his back. "It's nice. I like it there. It's peaceful and drama-free and relaxing. But it isn't the same. There isn't any energy, any chaos- and I thrive on chaos." He shot a grin at Blaine. "The Warblers are a community- a hard-working group of business-like equals who respect and value each other's opinions, and that's something New Directions will never have. But New Directions is like a family. A large family that fights and talks over one another and participates in so many make-ups, break-ups, and hook-ups that I need a flow chart to keep track of who's dating who."

"Do you all really only date amongst yourselves?" Blaine asked. "I kind of thought Puck was kidding when he said that."

"It's all very incestuous," Kurt said cheerfully. "Mercedes and I are the only ones who, for the most part, have been able to stay out of the tangled knot of relationship lines criss-crossing the New Directions family tree."

"It's really that bad?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Puck has dated Mercedes, Quinn, and Rachel, and slept with Santana, Brittany, and Quinn. Quinn dated Finn, then Puck, then Sam, and now is off dating all together. Rachel has dated Puck and Finn, and Jesse- he was part of our club for a while. Santana and Brittany sort of date each other, but also have dated Puck and Finn- the two of them together. Artie was dating Tina, but now he's with Brittany and Tina is with Mike. Sam is sort of with Santana after breaking up with Quinn." He took a deep breath.

Blaine was staring at him. "I'd forgotten what it was like at a public, co-ed school."

Kurt giggled. "I don't think every school is like ours. We're a... special case."

"It sounds... amazing," Blaine said, and there was a definite wistful tone in his voice this time.

"You weren't in the show choir at your old school, right?" Kurt asked, although he already knew the answer.

"No." Blaine plucked at a loose thread on his swim trunks. "I never had enough courage. I guess that's why it was so easy for me to transfer. There wasn't anything to hold me to my old school."

"You really regret it, don't you?" Kurt asked cautiously, aware that he was treading on delicate territory. "Leaving. Not standing up."

Blaine sighed heavily. "I feel like a coward," he admitted.

"Don't," Kurt said sharply. "You made the right decision. I tried the whole courage thing, and it landed me with my lips mauled by a bully who then later threatened to kill me."

"My terrible advice-giving skills have nothing to do with my cowardice, unless we're making a list of my various flaws," Blaine said.

"Stop it," Kurt said, firmly. "Don't do this to yourself."

Blaine's eyes locked on his- for a moment, he seemed about to argue. Then he relented, his shoulders sagging. "Fine."

He wasn't convinced, Kurt was aware. He'd known since the moment he met Blaine that Blaine was ashamed of his own cowardice- he'd seen it in Blaine's eyes when the other boy had said "I ran".

An idea began to form in his head- one so far-fetched and unrealistic that he didn't dare voice it out loud. But it was something to cling to, some sort of hope he could keep to himself until the time came.

"Could you tell me about your mother?" Blaine asked, after a moment of silence. His voice was careful, timid.

Kurt thought for a minute. "She was so full of life. She was a runner and a dancer and in high school, she'd been a cheerleader. She bought me my first pair of ballet shoes. She used to sing me to sleep every night."

Blaine smiled softly.

"Her favorite flowers were sunflowers, and Dad and I used to bring them to the end of every race she ran. She did distance- road races. 5 k's, 10 k's, half-marathons. She wanted to train to run a full marathon." He tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his thigh. "It takes a special person to run long-distance," he explained. "It's not just physically exhausting, but mentally as well. And she was the strongest person I knew, right up until her death."

He could feel the heat prickling behind his eyes. He was not going to cry in front of Blaine again. That had already happened more times than he could count. "What about you?" He asked quickly.

Blaine's brow furrowed. "You've met my mom."

"I mean Jane," Kurt said. "What was she like, before you two- before?"

"We- we used to do duets," Blaine said, quietly. "She has a lovely voice, and it was the only time she got to sing with someone else, because she's home schooled. We used to sing 'A Little Priest' together, and dance around the kitchen like Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd- Mom and Dad would yell at me for that, because she was so fragile, I could drop her and something could happen. Dancing wasn't safe for her." He thought for another moment. "She's obsessed with penguins, and she loves Harry Potter more than almost anything."

He laughed at the incredulous look on Kurt's face. "She's a real person, Kurt. She has quirks and obsessions and dreams. She's not this cold to everyone."

"It's just hard for me to imagine," Kurt murmured.

"She's terrible at Physics," Blaine continued. "She speaks Spanish fluently. She's allergic to cats and overuses the word 'bizarre'."

Kurt smiled.

"Or at least, she was all of those things when we were fourteen," Blaine said, his voice pained. "I wouldn't know anymore. Maybe all that's changed." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"There is nothing wrong with you," Kurt said in a low voice, rolling onto his side again. "There are many things wrong with her."

Blaine's eyes flew open.

Their faces were closer than they'd ever been before. Kurt could count the individual freckles on Blaine's face, almost indistinguishable from his honey skin. They were so close, their breath mixed together.

Kurt's heart was pounding. Blaine's hand crept over his. What did it mean? Blaine's breath quickened, his head tipping towards Kurt's.

Kurt jerked reflexively when the first raindrop hit his cheek, and accidentally broke any moment that could have been happening. Other drops followed in quick succession, splatting against his face, his arms, his hair. He shielded his eyes, glancing to the sky. He'd been so caught up in Blaine that he hadn't noticed the clouds rolling in.

Thunder grumbled across the sky, followed by a loud boom.

Blaine swore, wrenching his hand from Kurt's and leaping to gather the basket and towels off the sand.

Kurt tilted his face up to the sky, enjoying the way the rain hit his face, enjoying the smell of the rain- clean, crisp, wet.

"Come on!" Blaine called over the roaring sound of the approaching downpour, reaching for Kurt with his free hand. Their hands slid together wetly, their fingers intertwining, and Blaine began to run, dragging Kurt with him.

The house wasn't far. Still, the rain was so heavy that when the two reached the front porch, they were soaked to the bone. Blaine tossed the picnic basket and towels onto the porch and turned to call to Kurt.

"Come on!" He had to yell it, because Kurt had stopped ten feet away from the porch, his head thrown back, arms spread wide.

"Why bother?" Kurt yelled back. "We're already wet! What's a little more water? Come over here!"

Kurt's hair was plastered to his forehead. His grin was so wide his eyes seemed to be slits. He was spinning around in circles, his arms flying wildly with him. Added together, all of this should have made Kurt appear about twelve years old, and yet he'd never been so beautiful to Blaine. So simple- no fancy clothes, no immaculate hairstyle.

Just Kurt.

Kurt looked carefree, for once in his life. He looked as if he'd never had to experience the death of a loved one, or the sort of terror that came with a hate threat, or the heartbreak of a first rejection. He looked innocent and happy and so full of joy as he stretched one hand out to Blaine, beckoning him off the porch and out into the storm.

"Who are you?" Blaine blurted, before he could stop himself.

Laughing, Kurt twined his fingers through Blaine's, twirling him around in a strange sort of spin. "No one of consequence."

Recognizing the reference, Blaine countered delightedly, "I must know."

Kurt's eyes were alight. "Get used to disappointment!" he cried, over a particularly loud clap of thunder.

"We're going to get struck by lightning!" Blaine yelled.

"Are you ten feet tall or made of metal?" Kurt yelled back.

"Was that a jab against my height?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, slipping an arm around Blaine's waist and pulling him in. His skin burned where Kurt touched it. It wasn't until Kurt brought Blaine's hand up to his own shoulder that he realized what they were doing.

Dancing.

"My mom would always do this with me," Kurt said into Blaine's ear. Blaine's grip on Kurt's shoulder tightened. "Every time it rained. We'd go outside and dance- the waltz, the tango, ballet, tap... salsa..."

That got a small smile out of Blaine.

"I haven't done it since then," Kurt said. "I never wanted to share it with anyone."

The arm around Blaine's waist tightened as Kurt revolved them in slow circles, to some tune that only existed in Kurt's head.

"Except you."

Kurt's voice was low. Maybe he hadn't intended for Blaine to hear it, except that his eyes were fixed on Blaine's, burning straight into his skull, down his neck, through his chest, his stomach, down his backbone.

Blaine's heart fluttered hummingbird-fast against his ribcage.

There was a loud clap that was most certainly not thunder and both of them jumped.

The screen door slapped against the frame a few more times, growing quieter and quieter. Jane folded her arms.

Slowly, Kurt's arm slipped from around Blaine's waist. He watched the color mount on Blaine's neck and cheeks as the other boy slowly moved back to the porch and his waiting sister. He gathered up the basket and towels, casting one apologetic look back to Kurt before opening the door and disappearing into the house.

Kurt felt anger swelling inside him. He wasn't an angry person generally, but sometimes everything just- he was angry at Jane, angry at Blaine, angry at the world. He wasn't a violent person- how could he be, after Karofsky? But for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to kick something, break something, break Jane. But the moment was fleeting, and he was left instead with his most powerful weapon- his words.

"What are you so scared of?" Kurt screamed, and some vague part of his mind wondered why the words were so familiar on his lips. "It's love, it's love, I love him! Can't you see that?"

Lightening flashed overhead as he bellowed at the tiny girl standing on the porch, whose smirk was fading.

"It's not wrong, it's just love! Are you so scared of being alone that you can't even give your brother a small piece of happiness? So scared that if you love him, he'll leave you?"

Her eyes darkened. He'd hit a nerve.

He took a step forward. "I'm scared to death of that too, Jane!" he yelled. "I'm scared of loving people and losing people and I'm absolutely terrified of how much I love Blaine! But maybe if you let yourself love him, you could be a whole lot happier!"

Another step.

"Instead, you let hatred rule your life! You may have a disability, and sure it stops you from doing things, I've never disputed that!"

Another step.

"But the one thing it should absolutely not stop you from doing is loving people!"

Another step.

"You may have a disability, but that doesn't stop you from being a bully!" He threw the word in her face. "You cut Blaine down, and it hurts him every time you do it but he still loves you because that's what family does."

He was a foot from her now, almost yelling in her face. "I might be an abomination or a sin in your eyes, but the disgusting thing here is you."

He was at least careful enough, in his rage, not to brush against her as he moved past her into the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

If he'd stayed longer, he might have seen her face crumple.

A/N: I have ideas for this story that span wayyyy too far into the future. Gah. My thoughts are everywhere. Which is funny, because in my last Klaine story, this chapter was the epilogue, tying all the loose ends together.

SO MUCH LEFT TO WRITE OF THIS STORY.

No Glee this week :( I'm suffering from withdrawal.