Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I don't know why anyone would think that I do.
Summary: When Kurt is feeling down, Blaine takes it upon himself to put together a week-end that he hopes will make him happy again.
Note: Okay, this will actually probably end up being more than four or five chapters, just because I'm getting so caught up in the dialogue of it all. Bear with me! It might be as long as six or seven. Thanks for all of the kind reviews so far! Your feedback means a lot to me!

Kurt was woken the next morning by two rough hands, shaking him awake. "Hnn?" He mumbled into his pillow, sniffing and opening one bleary eye. "Finn?" He was confused for a moment, having expected to wake up in his dorm, his roommate Tony snoring on the other side of the room. It took him a while to remember that he was back in Lima for the week-end. With Blaine. As soon as that fact popped into his head, he sat up, "What's wrong? Dad didn't kill Blaine, did he?"

"What? No," his stepbrother hit him with that patented look of confusion. "Why would Burt do that? No, I just didn't think you'd want to miss what's going on in the kitchen."

"What's going on in the kitchen?"

"Just c'mon," Finn said, holding out his hand. Kurt took it wordlessly and allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet, then let go of his stepbrother's hand and followed him up the stairs.

When they got to the kitchen, he stopped in the doorway, eyebrows raising in wonder at the scene in front of him. Blaine's iPod was connected to the kitchen's iHome, music pulsing from it, and he was singing along as he flipped - literally flipped, up in the air - pancakes in a Teflon pan. At the burner next to his was Carole, rolling perfect omelets and humming along with an impressed grin. Burt and Finn both sat at the table, watching in awe.

"Carole, I can see you mouthing the words; sing along," Blaine nudged the woman with his elbow. Kurt wondered, briefly, when she had invited him to call her by her first name; what all had he missed this morning?

She waved him off, "No, I have a terrible voice."

He snorted and shook his head, "Doesn't matter what you sound like, as long as you're having fun. So come on!" He removed one pancake from the pan, and as he poured another perfect circle in, he sang, "Tonight I'm crawlin' out from in it. And though we're livin' on the brink, second by second by minute by minute."

Carole gave him one last tentative look before she broke and started singing along, even going so far as to swivel her hips and toss her head from side to side. "This," Kurt finally said, albeit too quietly for the two singing chefs to hear, "Is just too bizarre."

"Don't I know it," Burt agreed, equally as quiet. "You aren't even this lively in the kitchen."

"Out-gayed in my own home," Kurt joked, "The shock of it all is the only thing keeping me from grilling him about Rick Springfield being on his iPod."

Finn glared at him, "Hey! I like Rick Springfield."

"Oh, sweetie," Kurt patted his hand, "You also like Kid Rock; I won't hold it against you."

Blaine stopped singing as he flipped the last pancake onto the serving plate and turned around. "Someone should probably wake up-oh!" He stopped short when he spotted the newest addition to his audience, "I didn't even realize you were up."

"I couldn't miss the show, could I?"

Blaine just smiled at him in response and turned back around, "Carole, if you point me in the direction of the plates and silverware, I'd be happy to set the table."

Burt spoke up then, "No, Blaine, that won't be necessary." He stood from his chair, pulling Finn up along with him, "You and Carole cooked; Finn and I will set the table."

"What about Kurt?" Finn whined like a real brother.

"Kurt's visiting from school," Carole told her son as she added a few mushrooms to her current omelet, "We're going to let him slide on early morning chores today. Blaine, honey," she added when the other boy attempted to take his pan to the sink, "Go sit down. I mean it." He held up both of his hands and obeyed, sitting down in the chair next to Kurt's and folding his hands together.

"Good morning, Blaine," Kurt said, amused.

Blaine smirked at him, "Good morning, Kurt." Then he gave him a once-over and added, "I've gotta say, the bed-head look really works for you." The younger boy blushed, realizing he'd completely forgotten how ridiculous he looked in the morning. When he rose to rush back downstairs and right this wrong, his friend put a hand on his arm and held him in place. "No, seriously," he insisted, "It's cute."

Still blushing, Kurt lowered himself back into his seat, eyes never leaving Blaine's. Was he flirting with him right now, or just offering a casual compliment? Kurt wished desperately that he could know what was going on in the other boy's head. This was so unnerving. Especially when Blaine didn't break their locked gaze; he held it steadily, eyes soft, face relaxed. Kurt didn't want to look away, but at the same time, he was praying for a reason to. It wasn't that he didn't cherish the chance to have an intimate moment with Blaine, but having it in the same room as his family wasn't exactly ideal.

"Kurt," Carole said suddenly, providing him with the excuse he needed to look away. She was holding a plate and looking at him nervously, "You still like spinach and tomato omelets, right? Because that's what I made you."

"Yeah," her stepson answered, embarrassed when his voice came out a little hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Yes, spinach and tomato is still my favorite. Thanks, Carole." Beside him, Blaine snickered, but straightened his face as soon as Kurt's eyes snapped back to him in a glare.

Carole put the omelet down in front of Kurt, as well as two perfectly golden pancakes. She then handed Blaine his plate and sat down with her own. Kurt had tasted the omelets before, and he knew how good they were, so he decided to be adventurous and try out Blaine's pancakes first. He cut a small triangle with his fork and speared it through, then lifted it to his lips. He could feel expectant eyes on him, and as he chewed, he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

7) He could cook.

"They're insane," Carole murmured as she stared out the window.

"Certifiable," Blaine agreed, taking a sip of his coffee. They were sitting on the couch in the living room, looking out on the front yard, where the two Hummel men were bickering about something. By the way they gestured wildly around, they were disagreeing about the structural stability of the misshapen mound that was supposed to be an igloo. At one point, Kurt got so frustrated that he rolled a rather large snowball and launched it at his father's head, knocking his trademark baseball cap clean off.

"Mhm, yeah." Both Blaine and Carole looked behind them when Finn entered from the kitchen, cell phone pressed against his ear, "Okay, I'll ask and call you back. Bye." He snapped the phone shut and looked at the two, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Blaine, I know you're Kurt's guest and everything, but would you mind if, I dunno," he shifted awkwardly, "If I borrowed him for an hour or two? Some of the other kids from Glee Club want to catch up with him."

Blaine swallowed another mouthful of coffee before waving it off and nodding, "Absolutely. The whole point of this week-end was for him to get to see his friends and family. I've got," he tapped a finger to his lips and glanced at his suitcase, "Some extra credit I could do. At least, I think I packed it. And I know that I packed a novel, if nothing else."

Carole rolled her eyes and told her son, "I'll find some way to occupy him until you get back." Finn nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen, and the woman told their guest, "Extra credit? Novels? What kind of teenage boy are you?"

"Oh, there are so many ways I could answer that."

Kurt sighed, tossing a hat onto his bed and putting on another, trying to find one that matched his outfit perfectly. "I don't have to go," he told Blaine, who sat next to the growing pile of accessories, watching him get ready. "Or you could come with us."

"Finn made it pretty clear that your friends wanted to see you alone," Blaine said good-naturedly, plucking a fluffy gray scarf from the mess and wrapping it around his hand. "Besides, I think it'll be fun to spend some time with your parents; maybe look through some baby pictures or embarrassing home movies."

Kurt groaned in agony, tossing his current hat to the side, "I'm so not comfortable leaving you alone now." When met with just a smirk, he sighed and changed the subject, "Anyway, do you think you could help me with my English project for a little while tonight? If my parents don't scare you away, that is."

"They won't," Blaine insisted, then added, "And sure, I'd be happy to help." From the top of the stairs, they heard Finn calling for Kurt, and Blaine stood, walking over to his friend. He wrapped the gray scarf around his neck, tying it loosely, and smiled, "You better get going."

You have got to stop doing that, Kurt thought to himself, struggling to keep his breathing steady; to not react. You're going to kill me. He honestly didn't understand how his friend could be so casual in these kinds of conversations. Was he a pathological flirt? Or was he even flirting with him at all? Maybe this was just how he interacted with his friends, and Kurt was building himself up to have his heart smashed. Again.

"Yeah. I'm leaving," he said, abruptly pulling away from Blaine and disappearing up the stairs with lightning speed. This left the other boy with his eyebrows raised and shoulders raised, palms up, wondering what had just happened. He didn't have much time to dwell on it, however, before Burt called down that he and Carole were almost ready to head out.

When he got back upstairs and started shrugging into his coat, Carole handed him an orange and white ticket, then gave a second ticket to her husband. "'Sixth Annual Lima Winter Sports Fair,'" he read aloud, then looked up with a furrowed brow, "I have no idea what to make of that."

Burt chuckled, sliding his ticket into his back pocket, "It started out as a big flea market type deal - everyone would get together at the community centre and sell old sports gear…"

"And now," Carole continued, "It's basically an excuse for people to barter and goof off. Talk sports, play sports, get into fist fights about sports."

Blaine flicked his ticket and grinned, "Sounds great."

"Really?" Burt couldn't help but sound incredulous. When Carole raised her eyebrows at him, he corrected himself, "I just mean, I couldn't get Kurt to go if I paid him. I've tried. And you two seem to be a lot alike." He looked helplessly around, then asked his wife, "On a scale of one to ten, how big of an ass am I right now?"

"Roughly a six?"

Blaine laughed at this, shaking his head, "No, it's fine. I realize that Kurt and I are very similar," he said thoughtfully, "But we have a lot of differences. The biggest one, I think, being sports. Football is really the only one I keep up with, as a spectator, but I'm pretty athletic too."

Burt's expression read impressed, "You play sports? Really?"

"Well, not officially," the boy clarified, following Carole as she began ushering them out the door. "It's mostly my friends and I messing around in the courtyard when it's nice out, or playing basketball when we don't have homework or rehearsals."

"In that case," the father said as they slid into his car, "I think you and I are gonna have to square off in some ball later."

Blaine accepted his challenge with narrowed eyes and a tough nod, "Bring it on."

The turnout at Breadstix was insane. Kurt had expected Mercedes and Rachel, and maybe Tina and Artie, but this was unbelievable. The entire McKinley High Glee Club had shown up, pushing together three long tables and squeezing in around them. Even Mr. Schuester was there, sitting between Mike and Santana, sipping a coffee. Kurt had almost cried when he saw them all waiting for him, but he held it inside.

"So, Kurt," Mercedes said after a few minutes of catching up, "Are things with Blaine progressing at all?"

"Mm," Santana chimed in, eyes closed and lips twitched up, "When we saw him at Sectionals, I had to stop myself from jumping him. Too bad he's 'mo."

Kurt rolled his eyes, ignoring her and answering Mercedes, "No, we're just friends." Finn snorted, and his stepbrother narrowed his eyes at him, "What? We are!"

"Seems like Finn knows something you're not telling," Sam said with a smirk, draping an arm over the back of Quinn's chair.

"Yeah, Frankenteen," Santana waved her hand, "Spill it."

Finn glanced at Kurt, who had both eyebrows raised at him, "What could you possibly mean?"

His stepbrother shrugged awkwardly, stirring his Coke with his straw, "I dunno, man. Just the way you guys look at each other, and the way you're always whispering and holding hands and stuff… And, I mean, he came home with you for the week-end. To meet our parents. To hang out in our town. That seems like something a…boyfriend," he did his best not to choke on the word, "Would do."

"Aaaaaw," was the consensus of the group. Even Schuester joined in.

Kurt shook his head, "I'm sorry, but no; we're just friends."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Schuester quoted. "Or, gentleman."

"If Kurt's a lady, he's totally prettier than me," Brittany said softly from her place on Artie's lap.

The subject of all this speculation shook his head and sighed, "No, guys, really. Blaine hasn't hinted that he might have any feelings for me." Except the recent gestures and flirty compliments, an evil voice in his head objected. "Can we just drop it? I didn't come home to be grilled on my love life."

They all agreed to this, and then Rachel leaned across the table to get closer to him, "Then let's talk about Regionals. Can you drop us any hints that might help us be better prepared to stomp you guys into the ground?"

"Put it up, put it up!" Blaine shouted from across the court, swiveling around a tall body. Burt obeyed, shooting the basketball toward the net, though it was obvious it wasn't going to go in. Blaine jumped, hands landing on the ball and forcing it through the hoop, earning them another two points and securing their victory. They'd played a couple rounds of one-on-one in the community centre gymnasium before being challenged by two construction workers - Aaron and Jeff - to teams. As it turned out, Blaine and Burt were a force to be reckoned with.

"Yes!" Burt cheered, pumping his fists in the air and doing a little jump. He grabbed Blaine, looping one arm around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a half-hug, "That was unbelievable! How did you even do that?"

Blaine shook his head, breathless, "I don't even know, but it was awesome!"

"Hey, good game, guys," Jeff said, shaking hands with both of them. "You up for another?"

Blaine glanced at Burt, who took a deep breath, "I could use a break, actually. But don't count us out for later, okay?" Jeff agreed, jogging back over to Aaron while the other two men made their way to the short set of bleachers on one side of the gym, collecting the bottled waters they'd left there. They look a few moments to hydrate and steady their breathing before Burt finally spoke again.

"So, if I ask you something, will you promise to answer me honestly?"

Blaine's back stiffened and his eyes widened ever-so-slightly, but he held his composure. "Of course," he said, taking a casual sip of his water, "What's up?"

"It's about Kurt." Blaine held his breath. "Has he…you know… Has he been doing okay at Dalton?" He let out the breath, relieved, and listened as the concerned father went on, "I talk to him on the phone a lot, but I just feel like he's not telling me everything. He's not as talkative as he used to be, and I'm starting to worry that sending him to that school may not have been the best idea."

Blaine's muscles relaxed, and he shook his head, "No, I think it was a good idea. Kurt obviously has a great support system with his friends and family here, but ultimately, he needs to be in that kind of environment 24/7; he can only get that at Dalton. But," he sighed, capping his water and leaning back against the next level up, "He's still struggling."

"Struggling how?"

"He doesn't really talk to me about," Blaine frowned, "But from what I can tell, it's a lot of homesickness. And worrying about you. He told me about your heart attack, and I think that he thinks you're not being taken care of if he's not here to do it." He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and continued, "Beside that, I think he's just stressed about grades and Warbler practices; it's a little bit of a culture shock, I imagine." He offered the man a comforting smile, "But I wouldn't worry too much; he's still in that transition period. Things will be better for him soon."

Burt was quiet for a moment, nodding to himself, lips pressed together, and then he clapped a hand down on Blaine's shoulder. "You're a smart kid, and a good friend to my son; I appreciate that."

"I'm sensing a 'but' at the end of that sentence," the boy joked.

"But," Burt confirmed, "I'm not quite sure what to make of your relationship with him…"

Blaine stiffened again. He knew this conversation was coming (especially since he'd overheard Burt ask Kurt about it the night before), but that didn't make him any more prepared. So he did the only thing he could do. He told the truth. "I don't want to lie to you, Burt," he said, sitting up and clearing his throat, "Kurt is my friend, and I'm content with keeping him as my friend. But should things ever…progress," he shrugged lightly, "Well, I suppose I wouldn't be horribly opposed to that idea, either. And should that day ever come," he added tentatively, "I hope that we'd have your blessing."

Burt stared at him for a minute, and Blaine strongly considered standing up and running away as fast as his legs could carry him. But eventually, the man cracked a small smile and looked away, "Yeah, well, we'll see how the rest of the week-end goes."

"Hey, guys!" They both looked to the side to see Carole walking briskly toward them, holding up her cell phone, "Finn just called. He said they're on their way back to the house; he said that Kurt agreed to it!"

Burt clapped his hands together loudly, and Blaine looked back and forth in confusion. "Agreed to what?"

Carole chuckled deviously, "Family game night."