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: One more chapter after this one. Thanks for stickin' around, folks! Means a lot to me!

"You kids not tired yet?" Burt asked, wandering into the living room for at least the seventh time since they got home. "I think the pizza place is still open; we could order a pizza and watch Sports Center for a while." Blaine and Kurt, both in their pajamas and sitting (with a fair distance between them) on the folded out mattress, staring at him with big eyes.

"I," Blaine drew out, glancing at Kurt, not knowing what to say.

Kurt, in turn, just rolled his eyes and yelled, "Carole!"

"Burt!" The woman yelled back immediately from her bedroom, "Get in here right now and leave those boys alone."

Her husband looked over his shoulder, then back at the boys reluctantly. Finally, he sighed and forced a smile, "Don't stay up too late, okay? And Blaine," the dark-haired boy looked like a deer in the headlights as he looked up. But instead of something veiled and threatening, the man said, "Today was a good day. Thanks for going along with our craziness." He looked like he wanted to say more - "keep your filthy paws off of my son," for example - but he left it at that, bidding them goodnight and disappearing down the hallway. Once he was gone, Blaine and Kurt looked at each other and let out matching sighs of relief.

"I think I may have completely screwed up the budding friendship I had going with your dad," Blaine said, disappointment in his voice, thinking of how Burt had been after the dance. Any time Blaine and Kurt would start talking to each other about a common interest, he would cut in with some random sports observation, and he even had Finn sit between them on the drive home. Now, he was bending over backwards to keep from leaving them unchaperoned in the living room, on the pull-out bed.

Kurt snorted, "No, he loves you, I can tell. He's just a little overprotective."

"He doesn't have to be," Blaine grumbled with a cute little pout, picking at the hem of his t-shirt. "I'm a good guy; I'm not going to do wrong by you."

The younger boy's heart leapt at that last part, but he swallowed the elation down and gently patted his friend's hand, "I know. And he knows. It just comes with the territory, I think."

Blaine smiled at him, rotating his hand so he could squeeze Kurt's and pull him a little closer. "Want to watch a movie?"

"Sure," Kurt smiled at the subject change, gesturing to the shelves below the flat screen TV, each of them filled with DVDs. "Pick a good one; I'll make some coffee."

"Sounds like a plan."

As Kurt waited for the kettle to heat up, he couldn't stop the big smile on his face. He couldn't help how happy he was. Not only had Blaine confessed a degree of feeling for him, but even after the fact, it wasn't awkward. They were the same as always - light touches, flirty comments, and sitting down for a casual movie viewing without any hesitation. They weren't jumping on each other (slightly to Kurt's dismay), but they weren't pulling away from each other either.

By the time he made it back out to the living room, Blaine had loaded a DVD into the player and taken up his spot on the bed again. Kurt sat down, handing him a coffee, and watched as the title menu played through. "Random Harvest," he recognized with delight, "I didn't know you liked old movies."

"Please, back when romance was actually romantic? I'm all for it," he pressed play on the DVD remote, "I'm just surprised you didn't bring this one to school with you."

"Dad told me I should choose between musicals and oldies. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life."

Blaine chuckled and reached over to flip off the light, leaving them in the dark as the black and white picture began to play. After the opening credits, he said, "Are you going to sit all the way over there the whole time?"

Kurt almost choked on his mouthful of coffee, "Huh?"

Instead of answering, Blaine simply stretched out his arm and looked at his friend expectantly. Cautiously, Kurt scooted over under his shoulders were against the arm, and he kept his eyes fixed on the movie. Maybe coming back from the festival hadn't been awkward, but this was. This wasn't hand holding or a pat on the shoulder; this was…almost cuddling.

Feeling the way Kurt's back tensed, Blaine said, "You don't have to, you know, if you're uncomfortable with it-"

"No, no," the younger boy protested quickly, "I'm not." He took a few subtle, deep breaths and forced himself to relax, the muscles in his back loosening slowly but surely. Pretty soon - while John watched from the balcony as Paula performed "Daisy" to a full house - Kurt found his head being pulled by some gravitational force to Blaine's shoulder, and he smiled when he felt his arm hold him just a little more tightly.

11) He liked to cuddle.

An hour later, they were both slumped down a little, Kurt's head still on Blaine's shoulder, one arm draped across his chest, and eyes drifting shut at the peaceful sensation of Blaine's fingers playing with his hair. They were breathing in sync, Kurt inhaling every time Blaine's chest rose with a breath, and exhaling when it released, memorizing the scent of him, the way it felt to be this close. They might not get a lot of chances to be this way at school. Sure, the boys were allowed to hang out in each other's dorms - and even sleep over, if they cleared it with Keith first - but Kurt wasn't so sure Blaine would be this cozy when one of their roommates was in the same room.

"You should know better than to think so hard around me," Blaine said suddenly, a chuckle rumbling in his chest and tickling Kurt's ear. "I always know when there's something on your mind."

It was pointless to try to deny anymore, so the younger boy sighed and shrugged, "I was just thinking about when we get back to school, and…" He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it without potentially making an ass of himself.

"And," Blaine filled in, "How I'm going to act with you?" Kurt nodded wordlessly, and received another laugh in response, "Kurt, everyone at Dalton knows I'm gay. They know you're gay. And they're still our friends; there's no reason to hide anything from them. If we decide that this," he waved between the two of them, "Is something we want to pursue, then we'll pursue it just like any other relationship."

The younger boy popped his head up, brow furrowed as he found Blaine's eyes, "How is it always so easy for you to talk like that?"

"Talk like what?"

"About," he shrugged, "About what's going on between us. You talk about us pursuing a relationship, caring about me, wanting to," he coughed and said quietly, "Kiss me." He shook his head, "I just don't understand how it's all so easy for you to talk about."

Blaine smiled softly and reached up to brush a strand of Kurt's hair out of his bright blue eyes. "It's easy to talk about something when you've rehearsed what you're going to say in your head a thousand times a day." A moment of silent passed between them before Blaine gestured for him to lay back down, and he obeyed. They didn't say any more on the subject, but by the end of the movie, they were both fast asleep in each others' arms.

Sunday morning was awkward. But if there was a god, Kurt was a little more likely to believe in him now that some force had woken Finn up at eight, before the rest of the family (a once in a lifetime occurrence), and he'd been the one to discover the two boys curled up together. He'd kept a safe distance, poking Kurt's foot with a coat hanger until he opened his eyes and, seeing the look in his stepbrother's eyes, slid reluctantly out of Blaine's embrace.

"Dude, you gotta be more careful," Finn hissed once they were both in the kitchen and Kurt was fumbling sleepily with the coffee pot. "If Burt had woken up before me, you'd be toast right now."

"I know," Kurt yawned, turning away from the pot and reaching out to put a hand on Finn's shoulder, "I appreciate you waking me up. We were watching a movie, and we dozed off; you're right, I would have been screwed. I owe you one."

His stepbrother nodded, "Damn straight." Then he added with a hopeful look on his face, "Will you make me some waffles?"

"Fresh or frozen?"

"I'm not picky."

Kurt laughed and pulled a box of Eggos out of the freezer, turning toward the toaster. "So I feel like we haven't really had any one-on-one time since I got back," he stated with a frown, "Catch me up; what's been going on with you and Rachel?"

Finn sighed and sat down at the table, "Nothing good."

"Want to talk about it?"

The tall teen glanced through to the living room, where Blaine was still fast asleep, and then back at his stepbrother. "You know," he said slowly, "I actually do."

Half an hour later, when Burt and Carole woke and made their way to the kitchen, their sons were halfway through an entire box of waffles and a pot of coffee, and caught up in what appeared to be a very deep conversation. "You just have to remember," Kurt was saying as they entered, "That it's not your fault. She is in control of her own actions and emotions; what she did was wrong, and you did nothing to influence it. She made that decision all on her own."

Finn nodded solemnly, pushing a few crumbs around in the lake of syrup that remained on his plate. "Is it stupid that I miss her?"

"Yes," Kurt said with a definitive nod, then added, "But love is supposed to be stupid."

"Boys," Carole said, giving them both an odd look as she made her way through to the refrigerator, "What are you doing up so early?"

Finn's mouth immediately snapped shut, embarrassed at having been caught in such a personal conversation, but Kurt said with ease, "Oh, just catching up. Brotherly bonding and whatnot."

Burt started refilling the coffee pot, and said over his shoulder, "That's good to hear. So, uh, Kurt…how did you sleep last night?" He may as well have said what he meant, because it was loud and clear to everyone else in the kitchen: Where did you sleep last night?

Before his son could reply, Finn opened his mouth and offered, "He must have slept really well, because he woke me up singing in his sleep. Twice," he added for good measure, then glanced at his stepbrother, "Showtunes."

Kurt stared at him for a moment, then grinned and looked back at his father, "I had this outstanding dream that I was cast as Elphaba in a worldwide tour of Wicked."

"Well, that's, uh," Burt paused, "Something."

Carole gave him a playful shove and took a sip of her orange juice, shooting a sorrowful expression at her stepson. "So, Kurt, what time were you boys going to take off today?"

"Probably sometime in the early afternoon," he said with a regretful sigh; he wasn't ready to leave home yet. Not even close. "We have Warbler practice at five, and I still have some homework to finish that I didn't get to this week-end."

"Then we're going to have to cram in a lot before you leave," she said with a firm nod. "Shopping, lunch, ice cream-"

"It's thirty-one degrees out," Burt interjected.

"Coffee," she substituted, then continued, "Maybe a movie somewhere in between."

Kurt held up a hand and laughed, "Let's not be too ambitious. Shopping alone is going to suck up most of the time."

"Yeah, you're probably-" Carole cut herself off when they heard the loud squeak of mattress springs and Blaine shuffled into the kitchen, eyes barely open and hair a mess, breathing in through his nose and stretching out his long, lithe figure. It took all Kurt had to keep from staring. "Oh," his stepmother said with a smile, "Good morning, sleepyhead."

He yawned and laughed at the same time. "The funny thing is, I'm usually the first one up; guess I just slept too well last night." Kurt went cold, hoping his father didn't get any ideas from that little statement. Sensing the same thing, Blaine added, "I was watching Random Harvest when I fell asleep, and my entire dream took place in a black and white movie; it was pretty much the coolest thing ever." Burt nodded, satisfied with this, and Blaine gently nudged Kurt's shoulder, "Hey, were we still going to go-"

"Oh," Kurt remembered before he even had the chance to finish. "Carole, can we make our shopping date for ten or so? I told Blaine I'd take him somewhere special today."

"Special?" Burt looked up from his coffee cup, suspicion in his eyes, "Where's special?"

His son was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "We were going to go see Mom."

Everything was silent in the kitchen for what felt like an eternity, before Carole finally said, "Well, in that case, let's make our shopping date for eleven; take your time."

By nine o'clock, both boys were showered and dressed in the nicest clothes they'd packed, and on their way to the St. Christopher Cemetery. Kurt was driving, because there were a lot of odd twists and turns on the way, and Blaine was holding the bouquet of daffodils they'd stopped to buy at the flower shop. Kurt was trying his best to keep a conversation going, but he kept trailing off, somberness already taking him over. It had been almost a year since the last time he'd been to visit his mother, and he felt guilty that he'd been away so long.

The cemetery was covered with fresh snow, but the groundskeeper had obviously been through, because all of the markers were cleared and identifiable. Not that Kurt would have needed to see them. He knew exactly where his mother's grave was. She'd been buried near the bell tower, under the shade of a willow tree; he remembered falling asleep under that tree too many times to count in the first years after his mother's death. There was no way he'd ever not be able to find her.

"Here," Kurt led Blaine by the hand to a marble headstone, stopping when they were upon it.

"Elizabeth Marie Hummel," his friend read aloud in a light voice, "Beloved wife and mother. 1971 - 2003." Above the words was a photograph, set behind a hard, clear plastic in the stone. It was a woman with soft blonde curls and blue eyes that rivaled Kurt's in brightness. She was smiling the most genuine smile Blaine had ever seen, head tilted back slightly, like she was laughing. "She's beautiful," Blaine whispered, lacing his fingers with Kurt's. "You look so much like her."

Kurt smiled at him weakly and knelt down, snow seeping through the knee of his slacks, but he didn't care. He was just trying not to cry. It had been years, and he was mostly past breaking down when he thought about his mother, but he still missed her every single day, and it still made his chest tighten to be at her headstone. He ran his fingers over the ice cold marble for a long moment, though he'd long since memorized the feel of it, and then he said, "Can I have the flowers, please?" He reached his arm out to Blaine, but never took his eyes off of the headstone.

He expected to feel the crinkle of the paper cone in his palm, but instead, he felt only a single stem. Confused, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that, in one hand, Blaine still held the daffodils; the other was pressing a white flower into his friend's hand. It took him a minute, but Kurt finally focused enough to realize what it was. A snowdrop.

"Blaine," he could barely speak, throat thick with emotion, "You-"

"You said they were her favorite," the dark haired boy answered, equally as quiet. "I thought she'd probably like one snowdrop better than a dozen daffodils."

Speechless, Kurt closed his fingers around the stem and stared at the flower for a long time before finally placing it in the metal vase that was mounted at the base of the headstone. "You took this from the garden? Even though I told you people aren't allowed to?"

Blaine shrugged and knelt down next to him, gingerly touching the bell of the flower, "Like I said, you said they were her favorite." He looked around, then whispered like it was a huge secret, "So I snuck it into my pocket when no one was looking."

Kurt blinked at him, then smiled at the grave, "Mom, this is Blaine. He's a very good friend of mine, and I think it's important that you know who he is."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hummel," the older boy said, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder and staring at her name. They stayed there for a long time - eventually, Kurt began to cry a little, and Blaine stroked his hair comfortingly, but neither of them said a word. It wasn't necessary, right now. They both understood loss, and how words offered no solace. This was all he could do; simply be there.

Blaine wasn't sure how much time had passed when Kurt started swiping at his face and sniffing, pulling himself together. "It's cold," he said, voice hoarse and cracking, "We should get going."

"You sure?" His friend felt he had to ask.

Kurt just nodded, taking the daffodils and placing the cone on the grave next to his mother's - Mr. Heffernan - and slowly stood, brushing snow from his pantlegs. He reached for Blaine's hand, pulling him up, and started turning away. "Bye, Mom," he said, with one last sorrowful glance at the headstone.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Hummel," Blaine said as he followed his friend to the car, this time sliding into the driver's side while Kurt took the passenger's, immediately leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder and gripping the arm of his coat. He didn't care about being strong in front of him anymore; he knew now that he wouldn't be judged if he was weak for a little while.

Blaine held one of his hands tightly as he drove. He didn't let go.

They left Lima shortly after three, after two hours of shopping, lunch, coffee, and some time spent just hanging out at the house, talking. As Kurt tried to fit all of his new purchases alongside his baggage in the car, Burt pulled Blaine aside for one last conversation. "Listen, yesterday afternoon," he sounded as though he'd rather be talking about anything else, "You said that, if the day ever came that things progressed between you and my son, you'd…like my blessing." Blaine didn't say anything. He didn't even change his expression. He just kept his eyes fixed on the man.

"Well," Burt continued, rubbing the back of his neck, "It kind of looks like things might be progressing, so I just wanted you to know that," he cleared his throat and shrugged, "You have my blessing."

Blaine's face immediately lit up in a bright smile, which he tried in vain to stifle. "That's good to hear, sir," he reached out to shake his hand. "It's going to be a confusing road, with Kurt and I trying to figure out what it is we're doing, but it's good to know that we won't have to worry about you being against us. That'll take a lot of weight off."

Burt nodded, letting go of his hand and gesturing toward the car, "It looks like he finally got everything together."

"I'll let you two say goodbye, then," Blaine took out his keys and went to start the car as Kurt took turns hugging the members of his family. Once he was securely buckled into the passenger's seat, Blaine put the car in gear and they started their trip back to Lima.

"This was a good week-end," he stated, and Blaine nodded in agreement. "Can I, um," he said softly, fiddling with his fingers, "Can I ask you something?" Another nod. "Last night, you said you wanted to…kiss me," the words tripped awkwardly off of his tongue, "But you didn't, because my dad was there."

"Yeah," Blaine said slowly, one eyebrow raised, not knowing where this was going.

"So," Kurt said, equally as slow, "Why didn't you…later? Like when we were watching the movie, or when we were alone today? Did you," he took a deep breath, "Change your mind? About me?"

Blaine gave him a quick, wide-eyed glance, "What? No," he shook his head fiercely, "Absolutely not. It's just that, the moment after the dance was perfect, but I couldn't act on it. I guess I'm just," he shrugged, "Waiting for another perfect moment. Because you deserve no less than that."

"Pull over," Kurt said suddenly.

"What?"

"Pull over."

Blaine's brow furrowed in confusion, but he did as he was told, pulling into a mostly-empty drugstore parking lot. He turned to his friend and asked, "What's going on?"

There was no answer. Instead, Kurt put one hand on either side of his face and pulled him close, pressing their lips together hard and fast, every nerve showing as the world exploded with a single kiss.

He pulled back almost as quickly as he leaned in and said softly, "What you just said, that was perfect for me."

Blaine just stared at him with a stunned expression, and then very slowly, began to smile. Without a word, he reached around and threaded his fingers through Kurt's hair, pulling him closer again. This time, when their lips met, it was slow and soft, filled with so much emotion that they could barely comprehend. Kurt's hands slipped from Blaine face, to his shoulders, and he tried his best to remember how people kissed in the movies. Did he tilt his head like this? Did he open his lips like that? Where were his hands supposed to go? What sounds was he supposed to be making?

He gave up. He couldn't remember a single thing about the etiquette of kissing. He couldn't form any thoughts at all; it was like he was running on pure feeling. So he tightened his hands over Blaine's shoulders and tipped his head to the side, relishing the feeling of the soft set of lips on his own, the hand that was playing with his hair, the chest that was pressed against his. He could feel them breathing together again, and there was something so poetic about the matching inhale and exhale.

Blaine never broke the barrier of his lips - though, on some level, Kurt was praying he would - but the kiss still lasted for the longest minute of either of their lives. When the dark haired boy finally pulled away, eyes still closed, Kurt rested his forehead against his and took several deep breaths, trying to clear his head. "That was…" he said roughly, trailing off, at a loss for words.

"Perfect?" Blaine guessed, eyes finally opening. They were almost a pure honey color, and Kurt could feel himself getting lost in them.

"Perfect," Kurt replied, practically beaming at him.