Notes: There have been quite a few questions about certain events of Never Been Kissed... well, now you get your answer. ;)

chapter v

Kurt had fallen into a habit of barely listening during Glee club. What was the point, after all? It wasn't like he was ever given a solo, even for the club's group numbers. And besides, they didn't listen to him, so it should only be fair he return the favour.

He usually passed the time by pretending he was with Blaine, either in the real world or the one in which they actually met, but in the few days since Blaine had confessed his wish to date him, Kurt's time in Glee club (and lunch and class and when he was doing homework and making dinner and hanging out with his dad and on the phone with his friends) had been overrun by daydreams of the very thing: they would sit next to each other in Glee, holding hands and sharing smiles and quick kisses which never failed to make his cheeks heat up; they would work on homework together with music playing in the background, which would lead to several singing breaks; they would get coffee every day before school, having stayed up all hours chatting on the phone; they would go to Breadstix and the park and spend entire days shopping and, on special occasions, the expensive French restaurant about an hour away.

Of course, Blaine would still go to Dalton, and even if he did go to public school it wouldn't be McKinley because he lived in Kenton, but since he was already fantasising, he may as well go the whole hog.

So when he heard Mr Schue one day announce the Warblers as their competition at Sectionals, he jolted suddenly out of his head and stared. Surely he'd just imagined that?

And then Santana said, "Okay, hold up, like, a million awesome gay jokes just popped into my head." So, no, not imagining it. And maybe Glee club wasn't quite the safe place he thought it to be.

After announcing their other competition – an old people's group, an easy win – Mr Schue split them up to do another battle of the sexes and stuck Kurt with the boys again. Didn't he remember how well this ridiculous competition turned out last time?

If Blaine had been in the room instead of in Kurt's head, he would have given a sympathetic smile and then made sure to include in the group discussion. Unfortunately, the actual boys in the room completely ignored Kurt in favour of trying to decide whether to sing an eighties power ballad or – surprise, surprise – an eighties power ballad; Artie's rap suggestions were quickly shut down.

Kurt left the room with his chin held high. He was Kurt Hummel, he looked his bullies in the eye and gave as good as he got – his teacher and club mates being morons was nothing. He would rise above this town's ignorance. One day, he would be on Broadway in musicals revolutionising the presentation of masculinity, femininity and queer characters. He'd pen it himself if he had to, though of course there was the musical about Pippa Middleton to finish first.

And when that happened, he would just look down at these small-minded peons with pity, because he was much too big a man to gloat.

He was snapped out of his thoughts in the same moment his chest and shoulder slammed into a locker. How ironic.

Too big to gloat, he repeated to himself, until he realised Karofsky's step hadn't even faltered and anger burned hot in his chest.

"What is your problem?" he demanded. Karofsky stopped walking and turned around and, well, this was a first. Usually, Kurt was much too relieved to see the backs of his tormentors to consider drawing their attention back to him.

"You talking back to me? You want a piece of the Fury?" Karofsky loomed over him. His face was twisted up into an ugly grimace, and Kurt was half out of his mind with fear when he echoed, "The Fury?" He hoped he sounded half as scornful as he wanted to.

"That's what I named my first," Karofsky snarled.

"Well, with that level of creativity, you could easily become assistant manager of a rendering plant," Kurt retorted. God, he may as well just paint a literal bullseye on his back and hand out machine guns.

Karofsky threatened him again with the Fury (really, maybe Karofsky just needed to talk to Miss Pillsbury about his obvious anger management issues), and then slammed Kurt's back against the locker this time.

Broadway. Revolutionary musicals. Making more money than everyone in this cow town put together.

"Kurt." The boy opened his eyes and tipped his head off the lockers to look at Mr Schuester. "Can I talk to you in my office for a moment?"

Well, this was obviously going to go well.

Mr Schue altered the competition so that the boys had to do songs traditionally sung by women, and Kurt was ecstatic. Not only had the teacher listened to him for once (clearly, he was remembering how successful Britney had been up until someone pulled the fire alarm) but he was finally getting his chance to get a lead in a group number.

He said as much to the group of bored, uncivilised boys, complete with visual aids and a wooden pointer, but then Puck suggested his only use was going to spy on 'the Garglers'.

"The Warblers," he corrected irritably.

"Whatever," Puck dismissed. "See what they're up to. And you can wear all the feathers you'll want – you'll blend right in."

Kurt wondered if Puck didn't realise his casual homophobia, or if he just thought it was okay because he knew a gay guy.

"Fine," he said, unable to be bothered fighting back. He took his board off the easel and flounced out the room, on the fence about taking Puck's suggestion seriously. He was, in fact, sorely tempted to sneak into Dalton, and had been since Blaine had started talking about it. But the motivation had very little to do with show choir and a lot more with the bully-free, accepting group of boys who, for the most part, didn't treat homosexuality like it was as contagious as the common cold.

In the end, he didn't go. To see the place about which Blaine had told him so many stories – and to not see Blaine walk the halls himself – would hurt too much.

"Kurt. Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurrrrrrrt."

The boy in question bit his lip to stop from laughing, and he cracked an eye to look at his friend bouncing next to him.

"Oh, good, you're paying attention." Blaine grinned. "I was about to start poking you."

"You wouldn't dare," Kurt shot back, and then sat up with an exaggeratedly put-out sigh. "Yes, now that you've disturbed my rest?"

"Cannonball competition."

"I think I've had enough of competitions to last until Sectionals," Kurt grumbled, thinking back to when the boys had used their mash up to apologise for being their usual insensitive selves to Coach Bieste – and he still hadn't got a solo – so of course they'd lost.

"But this has nothing to do with singing." Blaine turned up the charm factor of his smile and Kurt relented.

And if he knew getting in the water meant Blaine took off his shirt, well, no one would know the wiser.

When Burt and Carole shared A Look between the main course and desert, Kurt knew something was up. He caught his dad's eye and raised an eyebrow, and Burt grinned at being caught. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Finn, stop eating for a sec and listen. We have something to discuss with you boys."

"Why do I have to stop eating to listen?" Finn asked.

"This is important, honey," Carole said, "we need your undivided attention." She waited for Finn to put down his cutlery, and Kurt noticed Burt watching him carefully. "We – Burt and I – have been thinking it's time to try moving in together again."

"What?" Finn blurted. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again to swallow heavily. He had long forgiven Finn for his homophobic outburst the last time the Hudsons moved in but he hadn't forgotten it; he wasn't ready to share a room with Finn again. "But – we tried that already. And it didn't really go so well, Mom, are you sure?"

"We wouldn't be living in this house," Burt said. "With our combined salaries, we could afford a bigger place with three rooms."

"We're not asking you to make the decision now," Carole added, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Kurt's arm. She looked concerned. "We're just asking you to think about it."

Kurt swallowed and nodded, and then he excused himself to fetch the desert from the kitchen.

Later, after Carole and Finn had left and Kurt was getting ready for bed, Burt called out from the top of the basement steps.

"You can come down," Kurt said. His dad did so and then stood a little awkwardly in the middle of the room. Kurt met his eyes in the mirror and smiled a little. "I suppose you've come to talk about the whole moving situation."

Burt chuckled. "You got me." He crossed the room to sit in Kurt's chair as Kurt put down his cleanser and swivelled round on his stool. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it. Last time, I think we were too hasty, too excited and caught up to realise how it would affect you boys.

"I know I'm gonna ask Carole to marry me, one day," he said. He had a little grin on his face, the same one he wore in his and Kurt's mom's wedding photos, and Kurt's heart simultaneously constricted and expanded. "I know it, she knows it. And that's part of the reason we want a new place. This house is mine and your mom's house, just like Carole's is her's and Christopher's."

"I get it," Kurt said, his smile small and wistful. "You don't want memories of Mom getting mixed up with memories of Carole."

"I loved your mom, Kurt," Burt said. "I always will, you know that, right?" Kurt nodded. "But I love Carole too, and it's not fair to her to have the pressure of Elizabeth's ghost. It's not really about me at all.

"But we both want you boys to be comfortable. If we move, we want to do it right this time." Burt got up and walked over to Kurt to squeeze his shoulder. "Take as long as you need to think about it, okay?"

Kurt nodded. "'Night, Dad."

"Sleep well, Kurt," Burt said, squeezing Kurt's shoulder again before going upstairs. Kurt looked after him for a moment, and then span back around to finish his moisturising routine.

He'd known for months now that Burt and Carole would get married sooner or later – as he'd said to Finn once, people their parents' ages didn't waste time messing around, they knew what they wanted and they went for it. Admittedly, the words had been a manipulation to convince Finn that they may as well get to know each other, but that didn't make the words any less true.

It was just that hearing his dad say the same thing made Kurt feel both extremely happy and extremely sad. He loved Carole, of course he did – she was wonderful, caring, didn't put up with people's bullshit, and took on board every piece of Kurt's advice about style and fashion – so he wanted both her and his dad to be happy, and being happy meant being with each other. At the same time, it pained Kurt to think that Burt was letting another piece of his mom go. It didn't feel like a betrayal, exactly; ten years was a long time, and though the Hummel men had done their mourning, they would always feel a small dull ache where Elizabeth had been.

Kurt already knew he would agree to the move. Neither Hudson nor Hummel house was big enough for both families, it would be unfair for the married couple to live in separate houses (Kurt fully believed that Burt and Carole would be wed by summer), and even if they put it off, in less than two years Kurt and Finn would be moving out to college anyway.

He wanted nothing more than he wanted his dad to be happy. If this was what it took, well, it wasn't a huge hardship, no matter how hard it would be to leave the house he grew up in behind.

It took him longer than usual to get to sleep that night, although not so long that Blaine noticed the difference. That, at least, wouldn't add to Kurt's thoughts. They went for a walk, picking a direction where the forest wasn't so dense. The grass prickled along the bottom of Kurt's feet, half tickling them and half making them itch.

"Hey," Blaine said suddenly. He grasped Kurt's elbow to make them stop and look at each other and then slowly rubbed his hand up Kurt's arm. "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Carole and Dad are thinking about moving in together again, into a new house."

"Ah." Blaine looked at him carefully. "How are you feeling?"

Kurt couldn't help a short laugh. He took Blaine's hand and then tugged him back into a walk. "Are you my therapist or my friend?"

Blaine chuckled. "Why can't I be both?"

"No offence, Blaine, but your advice . . . well, it doesn't work."

Blaine pouted. "All my other friends like my advice."

"Your other friends are . . ."

Kurt's retort died on his lips as the trees suddenly gave way to a castle. It appeared without warning, rising so high above the tree tops that it should have been impossible for them to have never seen it before. The large double doors were mere metres away, only held together by the wrought iron hinges and decorating pattern. The stone blocks making up the walls were worn, their edges crumbling but not enough to be able to see through.

"Well, that's new," Blaine said deadpan. Kurt made an incredulous noise.

"Really?" he said rhetorically, his voice rising several octaves, bordering along hysteria. "You mean you've never seen a castle just spring out the ground before?"

"Kurt, breathe. This isn't the real world, remember? For all we know, the castle has always been here but the physics of this place prevented us from seeing it before."

Kurt shook his head. "There's nothing different between the physics of here and there. Even if we are on some . . . metaphysical plane or whatever, it feels exactly the same as Earth."

Blaine nodded absent-mindedly, looking up at the castle with a contemplative expression on his face. Kurt narrowed his eyes at the shorter boy, and even as he started, "Maybe we should—" Kurt interrupted with a very emphatic, "Hell to the no! We are not going in there, Blaine, have you lost your mind?!"

"But Kurt—"

"Blaine!"

"Why not? We're the only people here, and it looks abandoned."

"What if it falls on top of us?"

"We'll avoid any sections that look like they're going to collapse." Kurt bit his lip, looking worriedly up at the castle. "Come on, Kurt," Blaine wheedled. "What harm can it do?"

Kurt stared at him, aghast. "Blaine! Why would you say that?!"

Blaine looked a bit concerned himself, but quickly shook it off and smiled easily up at Kurt. "This is real life, not a horror film."

"This?" Kurt waved his spare hand around. "This is not real life. We're living in a fantasy novel. People die in fantasy novels! You've read Lord of the Rings!" Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Wait, would that make me Sam?"

"Wow, real original, Kurt," Blaine said dryly. "Come on, let's go in before you start on my eyebrows too."

"I would never make fun of your eyebrows." Kurt smirked and fell into step beside Blaine. Only his grip on Blaine's hand and the tightness of his shoulders belied his fear. "They're very . . . distinguished."

The doors were heavy and stiff, and it took both boys pushing all their weight to move one far enough to squeeze through. Inside, there were no cobwebs, and the only dust was clearly from the stone. The paint on the walls was faded, and the murals had large, randomly-spaced gaps where the stone had completely worn away. The floor was littered with debris, small stones which pressed painfully into Kurt's bare feet. Worn bolts on the walls were the only signs that there had once been other decoration. The torch racks were empty, and the windows allowed through only just enough light.

Kurt and Blaine didn't pick their banter back up; the atmosphere was too cold, the air too still. Kurt swallowed heavily and looked at Blaine. The other boy set his jaw and nodded, and their grips were equally tight as they slowly and silently made their way deeper into the castle, by mutual agreement not going near the stairs.

The first room they came across was large and empty, with a high ceiling and big windows halfway up the outer wall.

"The dining hall, maybe." Blaine spoke quietly so he wouldn't make an echo, but Kurt still heard him clearly. Kurt signalled a small, half-open door across the room, reluctant to say anything out loud and disturb the stillness. Blaine nodded and, after a moment's hesitation, the two set across the room.

Kurt really needed to learn how to say 'no' to Blaine.

The door creaked when Kurt pushed it open. Kurt looked at Blaine with wide eyes, and they barely even breathed as they waited for the echo to fade and the stifling silence to return.

"I hate you so much right now," Kurt eventually breathed. Blaine nodded in agreement.

"Do you want to go back?"

Clearly, the cat would not be the only one to die of curiosity.

Through the door was a kitchen. It was empty, but there were counters and equipment which Kurt mostly recognised – a giant stove, a cauldron, a furnace, an empty fire pit with blunt spikes at either end. Something about the room unsettled Kurt more than the entrance and dining rooms, and it took a few moments to figure out what it was: everything was too clean. The only dust was bordering the walls, and both the furnace and fire pit were completely free of burns marks.

"It looks like that door goes outside," Blaine said with an indicative nod. They quickly crossed the room and forced open the door, and to their relief, they were back in the open air. It wasn't perfect – they appeared to be in a large quad, and although there were cobbled paths between some of the buildings, they didn't seem to lead out of the castle. Above them, reaching between the some of the buildings, were elevated, uncovered walkways. A couple crossed over the courtyard, and a few more had crumbled. But the silence wasn't as oppressive, and the tension in Kurt's chest lightened.

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. Next to him, Blaine's shoulders relaxed as well. Neither of them loosened their grips.

"This is the worst idea I've ever had," Blaine said. "And that actually includes going to the Sadie Hawkins dance."

"We are never leaving the Lake again," Kurt said. "I don't care how boring the view gets, at least I've never felt like I'm going to have a heart attack there."

Eventually, their hearts slowed down, and they took the opportunity while they were calm to unwind their fingers and wipe their palms.

They looked at each other again. Blaine sighed and was the first one to glance back around the courtyard.

"Which way next?"