AN: Sorry about the delay! First writer's block, then a couple of bouts of surgery, but now I'm back!

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand in his. "So this is a fairly new building." The house that Peter was considering buying dated from the 1890s, while the apartment that they were now renting was from the mid 1700s, a converted tradehouse.

"For Rome, this is fairly new." Peter rested his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "Do you like it?"

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. The building was quite narrow with only three full rooms on each floor, but they'd divide it with a shared large kitchen and dining area on the ground floor, Burt and Carole would have the second floor, Finn and Kurt the third, and Peter and Blaine the fourth. Kurt had first been horrified by the thought of living without closets and Peter had deadpanned that they could put up a clothesrod somewhere, and then laughed and said that when they furnished it, they'd get wardrobes, as people did in these older buildings. Kurt didn't even resent the teasing since it made Blaine laugh. It happened much more often than ever before, but was still new enough that Kurt noticed and cherished each laugh. It was a happy and free sound, another sign that the past was behind them.

His dad had already found a job at a local mechanic's, where he'd get a chance to learn on European cars, and then would start up his own shop again. Kurt wholeheartedly enjoyed being able to shop with Peter's credit cards, knowing that Peter was more than happy to let him do it and that even he wouldn't be able to put a dent in them. Burt, on the other hand, was unhappy at having to live, even temporarily, on somebody else's money, no matter how vehement Peter was that as far as they were concerned, it was family money. He remembered the long debates, Burt stubbornly shaking his head at every argument Peter had made, that he considered it their family money, that Burt had lost his business and savings from his work fighting slavery and that he was in a position to make those losses whole, or that while it was no exchange, it was the least he could do for the family that had saved Blaine. Burt had sat with his arms folded, repeating that he didn't want to take the other man's money. Kurt could understand Burt's pride but Peter's logic, plus the fact that they would have been virtually penniless without help, had swayed him. Carole was the only one who had been able to persuade her husband, by saying that they could take the money as a loan. Kurt had overheard her saying to Finn that some people find it painful to give and that some find it painful to receive, and Burt was definitely one of the latter. She herself didn't mind receiving, as long as she knew that if their roles were reversed, she'd be just as happy to give as much money as they could use to Peter and Blaine. "It can be harder for men, especially ones who are used to being the provider."

"Right, so I'll make an offer." Peter turned to the three boys. "Are you going back to the apartment or are you going to explore the city some more?" Finn wanted to go back and watch the big soccer game, but Kurt and Blaine opted for another walk.

They were going to start Italian classes soon, but in the meantime, they were picking up bits and pieces from books and videos, though with the usual stumbles, including the embarrassing ones. Finn had tried to get the accent right on "calzone grande" but had instead said "cazone grande," asking the grandmotherly lady at the food stand, in the rudest possible slang, for a big penis. Blaine had forgotten the difference between "ano" and "anno," so when a passing priest told him that a building was constructed by a generous donor during the Renaissance, Blaine commented "What an ass," instead of asking "What year?" Kurt had asked how much that "caldo moglie nero" would cost, blushing tremendously when the salesclerk told him that he had asked for a "warm black wife" instead of a "caldo maglione nero," a warm black sweater.

Blaine put his hand in Kurt's as they walked along a narrow little street with high walls on either side of yellowish stone, originally rough but smoothed lightly over time. After a few moments, he pressed closer, entwining their arms, and Kurt squeezed Blaine's against his side. They still hadn't gone further than light kisses and cuddling, and while he had to admit that he was hoping fervently for more, soon, he would never mention his impatience to Blaine. Maybe his own comparatively brief ordeal with slavery had a fortunate side, since he was able to understand, even at a physical level, the revulsion of unwanted sexual contact. Even an overly appraising eye from a stranger in the street could make him feel like a stone fell into his stomach, before he even figured out that it reminded him of the way strangers inspected him at the sale.

Blaine paused and chirruped to a passing cat, who came closer for petting, twining around their legs and arching its back into their hands and stretching out its chin. When Blaine rose from his crouch, the cat protested with a loud, vehement meow that made them both laugh. "Can't try to stop a job before it's done," Blaine chuckled.

"The cat always is the one who decides when petting is done," Kurt agreed, gravely. After a few more minutes, the cat strolled away, not without a glance that suggested that it had done them a great favor. Kurt made a token attempt to brush the cat hair off his pants legs and then pulled out his emergency lint roller, briskly cleaning both of them of what the cat had deigned to shed.

A sign reminded them that they were close to the municipal rose gardens and in an unspoken agreement, they headed in that direction. Since it was mid-afternoon on a weekday, the place had only a few dozen other people strolling along the flowerbeds, mostly older couples. Some of the roses were chosen for their color or shapes rather than their scent, but others seemed to radiate a thick, rich scent, almost too suggestive in the warm air. Blaine buried his face in a dark crimson flower, closing his eyes and sighing as he exhaled. The old scars on his face had already faded into almost pearlescent lines and as much as Kurt hated the sight of anything that had hurt Blaine, they also reminded him of how they had been drawn together at the crucial moment and of Blaine's strength.

When Blaine raised his head again, looking almost dizzied with the powerful smell, Kurt asked, quietly, "Can I kiss you?" Instead of answering, Blaine stepped closer and pressed his lips to Kurt's, then, carefully, shyly, opening his lips and slightly parting Kurt's at the same time. Kurt could barely breathe as Blaine gradually deepened the kiss, each tentative exploration catching at Kurt's heart and senses.

When they finally pulled apart, Kurt felt absolutely overwhelmed. "Wow," he breathed, almost laughing at the inadequacy of the word, or of any words, and Blaine repeated, grinning, "Wow." Somehow it seemed best to walk home after that, entwined and newly confident.

Back at the apartment, Finn was Skyping Rachel, who was assuring him that this wasn't necessarily the end to their epic love affair. "After all, I can always come to study voice in Rome, I could always use a vocal range like Julie Andrews' four octaves, and if I study in Rome at one of the opera theaters this coming summer, I'm sure I could add at least two."

"That'd be great, Rach," he said enthusiastically, although Kurt would have sworn he looked a bit pale at the mention of an opera theater. "Mom and I will have to come back to the United States at least a few times to settle things and ship our stuff here and all that, too."

"Finn, maybe we can get them to work on hologram versions of us, just like they did with Tupac Shakur, that way you and Kurt could still sing with us at Nationals. Or if they can't get it done quite in time, at least we can have somebody bring a Skype connection so you can see my solos and watch us win. We really don't need to let separation come between us, Finn."

Blaine and Kurt tiptoed into the kitchen and Kurt started a pot of coffee. They could still slightly hear the sound of Rachel's voice, and that, plus the sound of Peter working in the study and Carol muttering to herself as she practiced Italian in the other room, plus knowing Burt would be back soon, enthusiastically describing a new kind of engine that he'd worked on, made it all seem like a home.