Kurt hovered in the corner of the sitting room, arms crossed tightly across his chest and chin held high, his mouth firmly set in a grim line. His gaze kept drifting to the opposite corner, drawn to the sight of his father sat once again in his old armchair. Clad in pyjamas and a thick flannel robe with a blanket tucked over his knees, his father was looking very much like a few decades had passed since he had last sat there rather than the mere couple of weeks it had been.

He caught his father's eye and quickly looked away, away from Finn and Carole sat on the couch, away from the desk against the wall where Kurt had deliberately left the portrait of his mom, until his gaze settled eventually near the foot of the coffee table.

He cocked his head to the side and tapped his foot impatiently.

Burt cleared his throat. "Kurt, could you sit down somewhere? Your loitering is makin' me nervous over here."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sank to the floor, settling cross-legged with a clear view of everyone in the room. He rested his elbows on his knees and picked at a rip in his jeans.

Burt cleared his throat again. "Right. So. I thought it might be useful for us to meet together, since this is the first night we'll all be under the same roof, and to maybe go through a few things so we're all on the same page."

Kurt smirked. "Is there a prize for guessing exactly who the majority of this is going to be aimed at?"

Burt sighed. "Kurt, please, just listen first, okay?"

Kurt held his hands up in mock defeat.

Burt's eyes lingered on Kurt for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before he ploughed on. "This isn't going to be easy, but I think in this situation it's the best solution. It's going to take a while for this to work. We've gotta do this one base at a time."

Kurt didn't hold back a snort, because really? Baseball metaphors?

Burt closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, slowly, as if the minuscule movement was causing him great effort. "Kurt?"

Kurt waved a hand. "By all means, carry on."

"Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Nothing that would interest you, I'm sure," Kurt replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Burt took a deep breath. "Try me."

"It doesn't matter."

"Kurt," Burt said. "Spit it out."

"Okay. Fine. Well, I just think there's no point factoring me in to any of… this anymore."

"What?"

"There's no point me being here, is all."

"Why?"

Kurt raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Because you're going to do whatever you goddamn please anyway. And then I'll be gone. What I think is utterly irrelevant."

"Hey, that's not true. You're my son. Of course I care what you think."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Giving a small scoff and a muttered, "Yeah, okay," he dropped his eyes back to the rips on his jeans. He wound the thread round and round his fingers until the tips glowed white, refusing to look up and meet the eye of his father.

"I think there's something to be cleared up sooner rather than later, though," Burt said finally. "You and Finn need to hash out whatever it is that needs to be hashed out."

Finn looked up, eyes wide in alarm at being addressed. Kurt froze, his shoulders tensing.

"Well?" Burt prompted.

Kurt pressed his finger tips together in his lap. "Finn's a jock, I'm an outcast of society. Need I say more?"

"Yes, actually," Burt said calmly.

Kurt flicked his eyes to Finn. Finn was carefully avoiding his gaze, his chin dipped towards his chest but eyes looking around the room, anywhere, anywhere but Kurt.

Kurt shrank in on himself. "He just played a stupid prank on me in freshman year," he said tightly. "Him and the rest of his merry band of troglodytes."

Finn shifted uncomfortably. "I tried to apologise."

"Oh well, I guess that makes it okay," Kurt sneered.

"Dude! There's nothing else I can do, I don't get why we can't just move on from this."

"Finn," Burt said, warning in his tone. "What did you do?"

"It doesn't matter," Kurt interjected.

"I'll decide that," Burt said. "Finn?"

Finn glanced between Burt and Kurt and back again. Kurt gave him his most scathing look and shook his head ferociously.

Finn opened his mouth and Kurt rushed to speak before he could get any words out. "He just embarrassed me in front of everyone, it's not a big deal,"he said, trying to reign in the conversation.

"It doesn't sound like not a big deal to me," Burt said, his face beginning to redden. "In fact, it sounds like quite a lot of a deal. What did you do to my son?"

"Dad," Kurt said. "Calm down. This is not worth having another heart attack over."

"That's my decision," Burt muttered, settling back in his chair. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

Kurt looked at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Burt said slowly. "You should have told me about this before"

"Wow," Kurt said in a low, defeated voice, "you managed to make that my fault in a record amount of time." He scooted back until he hit the wall and leant back against it, letting his head fall back. "Ten points to you."

"We're going to talk about this, kiddo," Burt said. "Though, just you and me. This isn't me letting this go."

"Whatever," Kurt muttered. "'We'll get back to it'. Like every-fucking-thing else."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Burt asked.

Kurt let out an irritated huff of breath, glancing at Carole, who still hadn't uttered a word, and Finn, who with still frozen in shock from the confrontation. "It means that this is a joke. You're a joke. This is a 'family meeting'? We. Are. Not. A. Fucking. Family," he growled. "Don't fling that word around like it doesn't matter."

"It matters," Carole said softly. "That's why we want this meeting. We want to make this work."

"Well, I don't," Kurt snapped. "I couldn't give two fucks."

"Language, Kurt," Burt said. "Come on, let's talk about this."

"No! I have the fucking right to be angry. Everyone keeps telling me things. Telling me all this shit like that makes it true. Like how nice Carole is, how mom would want things to be, how Finn has magically changed into a fucking philanthropist. You're telling me how to feel, how I'm supposed to be feeling, how I'm supposed to deal with this. How the fuck can you tell me that when not one of you - not one of you - has asked how I'm actually feeling. Or cared at all for my input. Or if you did, dad, you completely disregarded what I had to say anyway, because you'd already decided how this was going to go."

His hands were shaking. He clenched them together in his lap, twisting them over and over. "I don't want you here, I don't want any of you here. There's one person I do want here, the one person I trusted, without any question or doubts on either side, but she can't." He looked at Burt, vision swimming. He forcefully blinked away the memories. "There's one person I need, and it isn't you. You didn't get me then, don't pretend to get me now."

There was a stunned silence as he finished. He took advantage of it and got unsteadily to his feet feeling completely off-balance, everything thrown off-kilter. He risked a glance at Burt. He looked as if he'd been slapped in the face, years of pain visible in the set of his mouth and the bags under his eyes. Kurt tore his gaze from him and bolted from the room.

Kurt's legs folded beneath him on the front steps, gulping in breath after breath. He hadn't meant to say that much. He hadn't meant to say any of it. Shame prickled at his skin as he ran the words through his head again and again.

The adrenaline began to wear off and he deflated in on himself, energy sapped from his system. His racing mind slowed to a muddy cloud and he was finally able to catch his breath.

The front door opened and closed behind him.

"You shouldn't be out here," Kurt said without looking around. "It's cold."

Burt sat down on the other side of the steps.

Kurt waited, his shoulders high and tense.

Burt just sat quietly, shifting to tuck his robe more snugly around him.

Kurt's shoulders dropped. "I'm going to get a lock for my bedroom door."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

A dog barked in the distance. Kurt swallowed and dipped his head. "I don't know how you're doing this."

He could feel his father's eyes on him. "It was time."

Kurt threw his hands in the air. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means that when I met Carole, I found that I could picture a life with her and it just, I don't know, it just felt right. Kurt-"

"You just needed her, right?." Kurt wrapped his arms around his legs and drew them in, talking to his knees. "When you had nothing, she came along and showed you that life was worth living."

Burt bent his head in close to Kurt, searching his eyes out with a resolute stare. "I didn't have nothing."

"I'll stay here, I'll not make any trouble. That's what you want, right?" Kurt asked dully. "Then in a few months I'll be gone to New York and you can have the family you've always wanted."

Kurt leant his head against the post and closed his eyes.

"That's not what I want. I want you here," Burt said.

Kurt squeezed his eyes together more tightly and rubbed at the side of his face. "I've been here. I've been here the whole time."

Burt paused and reached over to place a hand on Kurt's arm. Kurt flinched away. Burt withdrew his hand and slipped it into the pocket of his robe.

"Your mom was your sun and moon, Kurt. She understood you in a way I never could. We have so little in common I didn't know what to do with you." Kurt fidgeted his hands in his lap and curled further in on himself. "That's not your fault," Burt rushed to continue, shuffling closer to Kurt on the step. "That's all on me. It's my job as a parent to support you in what you want to do and I failed at that, I didn't get it. But you pushed me away, you always have. Even before your mom died."

Kurt flicked away a tear from the corner of his eye with his thumb. "I was a kid."

"I know, Kurt, I, tried-"

"You should have tried harder," Kurt interrupted, his voice a fierce rasp.

Burt let out a breath, a cool white mist blown into the frigid air before it vanished into the night. "I know."

He reached across the small space between them and rested his large hand on Kurt's shoulder, squeezing tightly when Kurt didn't immediately push him away.

"How often do you go to mom's grave?" Kurt asked.

Burt blinked at the question, taking the hand away to rub at the back of his neck. "I used to go every week. I guess it's more like once a month now."

Kurt nodded, picking at his nails.

"But that's not…,' Burt continued, still running a hand over his head. He let his hand drop with a sigh. "Everyone does this differently."

"I'm well aware," Kurt said, with a sardonic raise of an eyebrow. "But don't you think I might have wanted to go with you?"

Burt looked up in surprise. "We used to go together all the time."

"Once," Kurt said quietly. "Twice if you count the funeral."

Burt was silent, his eyes far away. "I guess I didn't want to force it on you. A graveyard isn't a place for a kid."

"Mom dying isn't something you could hide."

"No," Burt said softly. "I guess that was wishful thinking. We could go, if you wanted. Together. I haven't been since before hospital."

Kurt chewed on his cheek, an ache pulling low in his chest. "There's no point. I've been going on my own for years now. I can go myself whenever I want to."

"It would be nice for us to go together. "

Kurt closed his eyes and leant his head away from his father. He didn't reply.

"Kurt," Burt said, his voice rough. "I don't know how to make this right."

Kurt gave a defeated shrug of his shoulders. "You can't now. What's done is done. You get your second chance now with them." He nodded his head in the direction of the sitting room with a small, wobbly smile. "I hope it goes better for you, I really do."

Burt made a low, wounded noise that made Kurt's heart clench. Kurt gritted his teeth. "Please leave me alone," he whispered.

Burt looked at him with pleading eyes. "Kurt, I-"

"No, Dad. Leave, now," Kurt hissed.

Burt squeezed his eyes closed, a flicker of something Kurt couldn't identify washing across his face. He clutched the railing and hauled himself to his feet. He hesitated, watching Kurt for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak but snapped it shut again, and with another pat to Kurt's shoulder he turned his back and made his slower than usual way back to the front door.

Kurt didn't move from where he was sat and spoke out into the empty night, "We're never going to be a family."

The slow shuffle paused. A low, "Yeah," came from behind him.

Kurt lost track of time as he sat on the step. He dropped his head sideways to lean against the post again and sagged into it, tucking himself into as small a ball as he could. He felt numb, his thoughts cloudy and limbs heavy. He blinked slowly, not sure if he wanted to clear his cloudy thoughts or let them settle.

The cold air stung on his cheeks, tears streaming down his face. His closed his eyes. He didn't know when he started crying. He couldn't find the energy to fight them any more.

There was a bright glow against the back of his eyelids. He blinked his eyes open, squinting out at a car's bright headlights coming down the street. It slowed and pulled up on the side of the street by the front lawn. The lights and engine cut out and the dark shape of a minivan became visible in the gloom. Kurt found himself getting to his feet before he had even consciously recognised the car.

Blaine slid out of the driver's side, eyes downcast and brow troubled. He opened the backdoor and grabbed a bag from the backseat, turning towards the house with a preoccupied expression on his face. There was a lurch in Kurt's chest and then he was moving, legs carrying him down the steps and along the path straight towards Blaine.

Blaine looked up just in time for his eyes to light up and begin spreading his arms before Kurt slammed into him, burying his face in Blaine's neck and wrapping his arms tightly over his shoulders. Blaine gave a small, surprised, "Oof", dropped the bag to the floor and quickly wound his arms around Kurt's waist.

Kurt could feel himself trembling in Blaine's arms but he was powerless to stop it, his breaths coming out in shuddering gasps as he clung to him.

"Hey hey hey," Blaine murmured, rubbing his hands up and down Kurt's back. "It's okay, I've got you."

Kurt dug his fingers into the tops of Blaine's arms and breathed in the familiar scent he always knew he could find in the crook of his neck.

"How?" he croaked into Blaine's neck. "How are you here?"

Blaine ran his hand up Kurt's back to cradle the back of his neck. "Your dad called me."

Kurt sank further into Blaine. "Oh."

Blaine pulled back to look Kurt in the eye. "Is that okay? That I came?" he asked tentatively.

Kurt nodded and gave a small, shaky smile as shivers continued to course through his body.

"Kurt, you're freezing," Blaine said, unwinding his arms and gripping Kurt's icy hands between his own.

Kurt gave a small shrug and a downwards twitch of his lips.

"Let's get you warm." Blaine scooped up his bag from the floor, keeping firm hold on Kurt with one hand, and pulled him up towards the house. Kurt squeezed tightly at his hand at let himself be led away.

Just before they reached the front door, Kurt paused, tugging Blaine to a stop. He cleared his throat. "He said you could stay tonight?

"Yeah."

"Oh." Kurt studied the wood of the deck in the small gap between him and Blaine.

Blaine stepped into the space, reaching up with his free hand and trailing his fingers down the side of Kurt's cheek.

"Is that okay with you?"

Kurt's heart hammered. "Yeah. I-, yeah."

Blaine smiled and turned back to the house.

They tucked themselves under the covers of Kurt's bed, legs tangled and hands loosely wound together between them. Kurt nudged his nose into the warm skin of Blaine's neck and let his exhausted body sink into the soft mattress.

A few tears still trickled down his cheeks. Kurt's throat tightened. "I hate that I care so much."

Blaine tugged him closer, their bodies now pressed close and warm. "I love that you care so much," he said softly. "But I hate that it hurts you."

"Why do I feel bad?" Kurt asked desperately. "Why do I feel this bad for him? I don't want to. He doesn't deserve it. That's not fucking fair."

"No, it's not," Blaine said, tucking a strand of hair behind Kurt's ear and smoothing it down. Kurt leant into the touch. "But that's just who you are. The most compassionate person I've ever met."

Kurt squirmed uncomfortably but couldn't quite face to contradict Blaine, not when he was still rubbing his thumb up and down the side of Kurt's neck like that.

"I think he's trying," Blaine ventured.

"He's four years too late," Kurt said fiercely. The familiar blaze in his stomach sparked but he was too exhausted to let it run its course, too exhausted even to be angry any more.

He shrank back into Blaine. "I just don't understand how he can do this to mom," he said, sounding small and lost. "She's still everywhere."

Blaine didn't speak, just kept up the soothing swipes of his thumb.

"Just, for four years he didn't really exist, at least, not for me," Kurt continued. "And I could almost forgive that if he was slowly coming out of his grief for mom, if he was thinking about her and-," he swallowed and took a deep breath, "-missing her like I am, but it's not like that. He made his decision, I guess. I'll be gone soon and that'll be that."

Blaine held him, carding his fingers through Kurt's hair. "I know it's not the same, but you can talk to me about your mom whenever you want. I'd love to know more about her."

Kurt nodded and snuffled into Blaine's neck. Everything was a little bit easier when Blaine was wrapped around him.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"Of course. I'm glad your dad called me."

Kurt propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Blaine. Blaine blinked up at him, brushing his fingers over the side of Kurt's face.

"I missed you today at lunch," Kurt said.

Blaine shifted. "Yeah, we had some Glee stuff to do."

A frown twitched at Kurt's lips. He could have sworn he saw all of the rest of the Glee club at their usual table at lunchtime, Quinn included. Kurt had watched them from afar, an ache in his chest as Quinn was accepted into their fray, laughing along at their jokes, bickering with them as if they were lifelong friends. Blaine hadn't been there, he was sure of it.

A far off look had crept into Blaine's eyes, his brow creased. Kurt leant down and kissed him softly, smoothing away the creases with his thumb. Blaine smiled into it and Kurt relaxed, pulling away after one more chaste kiss to Blaine's lips, settling his cheek comfortably on Blaine's chest.

Blaine pressed a kiss into his hair. "I love you so much," he murmured, rubbing his cheek into the top of Kurt's head. There was finality in his tone, a certainty and matter-of-factness, like he didn't even expect any kind of response anymore. He was saying it for Kurt, with no expectation for anything in return. Always giving and giving and giving.

Kurt pulled back, heart giving a pounding thud in his chest as he looked down at Blaine in wonder. Blaine blinked at him in sleepy interest, his eyes full of nothing but warmth and trust and love. Kurt couldn't help but get lost for a moment in the soft curve of Blaine's eyelashes, and the way his skin seemed to glow in the low light filtering across the room from the lamp on Kurt's desk.

Kurt breath hitched in his chest and tilted his head slightly, a small, giddy smile unfurling across his face. "I love you, too."

A/N: *coos over klaine for a few minutes*

Okay I'm back. Hi all! Thank you so much for reviews etc on the last chapter *u*.

btw I am spoiler free for season 5 so please don't mention ANYTHING. I will be eternally grateful :).