Mi Casa Es Su Casa
Chapter 7

When you lost someone, you never truly lost them. Even when sometimes you sort of wish you had. They were with you when you read a book, watched a movie, heard a song. Would they like this? Would that scene move them? Would that beat make their body sway? They second guessed everything you did, until you spent every minute you had trying to impress them. They were around every corridor, casting every shadow, always falling into step with yours.

Sometimes it was blessing. Sometimes a curse. Especially when the reason they were gone was because of you. And you couldn't reach them no matter how much you stretched your hands, pain settling into you shoulders, as you fought to bring them back to you.

Gone.

'Kurt?' His father snapped his fingers. 'The salt?'

Blaine Anderson was gone. And there was nothing he could do about it.

'Here.' He picked up the salt shaker and began to pass it over before realizing what he was doing. 'No! Wait! You can't have salt, dad. You had major surgery.'

'One of these days, you're gonna fall for that,' Burt muttered. 'This looks like it's already been eaten.'

'It's organic. It's good for you.'

'Why am I being punished for having a bad heart?' He forked a mouthful up and eyed it like it had its own set of teeth. 'Where are you off to, anyway? Every time I look up you've got that daffy expression on your face.'

'Nowhere, dad,' Kurt sighed. 'Eat up.'

Burt sneaked a glance at him and set to work hiding things under the salad. Honestly, did he think Kurt couldn't recall these tricks from his youth? Of course, he'd been trying to hide a Big Mac under his lettuce then, which was a little more difficult.

'Is it-' Burt pursed his lips. 'Man trouble?'

'You have to stop watching Sex and the City. It's warping your mind.'

'I like the redhead. Leave me alone.' He made a brave face and shoved a portion into his mouth, swallowing before it could make acquaintance with his taste buds. 'So it is a guy thing?'

'Miranda? Seriously? Charlotte's the-'

'Kurt?'

'Fine.' Kurt tossed his napkin onto the table. 'There was- there was nearlya someone. In New York.'

'Nearly?'

'We didn't exactly get it together.'

'Your own Mr. Big,' his father said, sneaking a glance out of the corner of his eye. 'I see.'

'I willcancel the cable, dad.'

'Was it Dave?'

'Oh, my God, no! Stop it!' Kurt slapped at his father's hand.

'No salt? Or no Dave?'

'Neither!' Kurt said. 'Why on Earth would you think that I would ever-'

'Okay, okay. Calm down.' Burt held up his hands. 'I was just asking.' He picked up his fork and shovelled some of the eggs into his mouth. 'What kind of friend pays for the operation of a man they've never met?'

'Chew, dad. He was- he just,' Kurt shrugged, remembering the haunted look in Karofsky's eyes when he had mentioned his father, 'wanted to help. That's all.'

'Help?' His father stared him down. 'You told me that PETA had a video of this Karofsky punching a dolphin.'

'I may have exaggerated a little.'

'What about how he takes sirloin steaks to soup kitchens and eats outside the window?'

'That was just once.' Kurt sat back in his chair with a huff. 'Look, it's wonderful what he did and all, but I am going to pay him back. It's not like he got visited by three ghosts or anything.'

'I'llpay him back, Kurt. That's my job. The Hummels don't accept charity.'

Kurt grinned. 'Oh? And Carole Hudson coming around every day checking on you and feeding you pie is...?'

'That's different. That's- Carole's-' Burt blushed deep red. 'Eat your weird food. It's getting cold. Or hot. Or whatever it's not s'posed to be.'

Kurt had been touched when Finn had asked his mother to step in and check on fellow Lima resident Burt, as a favour to him. He wasn't the only one - Puck and Santana had sent their regards, and Mercedes called nearly every day. Even Karofsky checked in now and again. It had been two months but it was nice that he hadn't been completely forgotten.

Except by one person.

'-offered to move in, when you go back to New York and-'

'Wait, what?'

'Carole? She suggested that she could move in, just until I was feeling more like myself. You'll need to be heading back soon.'

'I can take care of you! And I'm not going back. I left my job, dad. Besides-' Since it's the last place I want to be... '-I'm looking into selling my apartment.'

Burt shook his head. 'Why do you want to stay around here, son? You spent your life working your way out. And I'm sure Karofsky will want you back. He seems like a reasonable kinda guy, especially to help you out like this. He clearly likes you,' Kurt tried to ignore the hint in that, 'and we've already discussed paying him back. I could do extra shifts and set up some sort of payment plan. Get it all paid back in no time.'

'Dad, you can't even think about going back to the garage, yet!' Kurt scolded. 'You just had-'

'Kurt, I am not just going to sit around here forever, okay?' Burt sighed and reached across the table, gripping his fingers tight. 'I'm grateful to you and your buddy Dave, but the last thing I wanted was to become some kind of burden to you.'

'Oh, dad. You could never be a burden! I just want to look after you, that's all.'

'Don't put your life on hold for me.' Burt's grasp tightened. 'Okay? That's what you can do for me.'

'I'm not,' Kurt insisted. 'I just-'

Just what? Had allowed a tiny gust of breath build into a hurricane? Spun more lies than he could readily control? Lost a real chance at the one? Lost Blaine. Was he really using his father as an excuse not to return? If he was here, he had a valid reason for not having Blaine in his life, but if he returned than the only reason would be that Kurt had made a mistake.

'You've been moping around here for the past two months, and I'm not arrogant enough to think it's just because of me.' Burt pointed a fork at him. 'Spill.'

'Look, dad. I'd really rather not.' Kurt avoided looking at his father as he speared another forkful of his casserole. 'I gave New York a shot, just like I always said I would. Turns out it's not what I want anymore.' More like it doesn't want me.'My life, my choice. Can we drop it now?'

'Fine,' Burt grumbled. 'I'm going to hit the hay anyway, thanks for-' He made a gesture at the plate. 'Whatever that was supposed to be.'

'You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow. No sneaking down at midnight for a snack.' Kurt methodically stuffed bites of dinner into his mouth, tasting none of it.

On his way from the room, Burt stopped at Kurt's chair and looked down at him, his expression searching. 'This guy you're not mooning over. What's he called?'

Kurt shook his head with a wry grin and gave up, just a tiny bit. 'Blaine, dad.'

'The one who sent the card?'

'Yeah, that one.'

'It was a nice card. Simple. Straight to the point.' Burt nodded, pausing a moment, his face thoughtful. Something clicked and Kurt could almost hear his father's decision to speak his piece formulate in his mind. 'Love isn't hard, Kurt. We just like to make it that way so we can write songs about it. Love, when it's worth it, is really easy. You're just got to let it run its course, that's all.

'But what- what if I made a mistake? A big one.'

'We are make mistakes, Kurt. And I bet it isn't even as bad as you're telling yourself it is.' Burt's tone was fondly knowing as he patted his son's shoulder. 'I know you, kiddo. Better than anyone. You're good. You're sarcastic, you have a disturbing love of female sweaters but you're a good person. Whoever this guy is will see that.'

'And if he doesn't?'

'The only person stopping you, Kurt, is you. Give yourself a break, will ya?' His dad ruffled his hair. 'And get the hell out of your own way.' His hand dropped back to his shoulder, squeezing gently. 'G'night, kid.'

'Night, dad,' Kurt murmured as his dad left the room.

He looked down at the table and sighed. Neither of them had made much headway on their dinner, and he wasn't hungry anymore – if he even had been to begin with. Taking the plates to the sink, he scraped them into the disposal and puttered around the kitchen, cleaning up and sponging things down.
Despite his best efforts to distract himself, he couldn't help but think back to his last conversation with Karofsky.

'I swear, your voice is even whinier by telephone,' Dave had greeted him when he'd picked up the call. 'It's like a 900 number for masochists.'

'Charming as always, that's you,' Kurt answered. 'I wanted to speak to you about payment.'

'I threw out that fruity stuff on the bathroom sink by the way. I think it went bad or something. It had brown spots in it.'

'That was hand soap, Karofsky! It was organic, it was supposed to have brown spots!' Kurt had rubbed at his temples. 'Whatever, never mind. Listen, about repaying you-'

'Will you stop?' Karofsky's voice had dropped. 'There's no urgency, okay? Think of it as less money for my wife to drag out of my ass. Don't start renting out your tree-house.'

'Karofsky, I-'

'Just whenever you can and whatever you can spare. I'm not going hungry, Hummel.' He had sighed down the phone. 'I know what dads mean, okay? I see it as a good investment.'

'Thank you, Ka-Thank you, Dave.'

'Whatever. Now fuck off. I have a date.'

'Wait! Has- has anyone asked after me?'

And every time the answer had been the same. No. No one had asked, not the one that he had wanted to, at least.

Kurt slipped the last plate into the dishwasher and sighed, leaning back on the counter and rubbing his temples to dispel the headache that had just lodged there. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only a quarter to nine. Great. Hours and hours and hours to go before he'd even feel like going to bed, and there was no guarantee he'd ever want to sleep.

He decided to put in a movie and began wandering to the living room. The knock at the front door startled him. Who stopped by without calling first?
As he pulled the door open, he had his answer: the only person he'd wanted to see, and the last one he'd expected.

'Blaine!' Kurt gasped. 'What are you- I-'

'I needed to see you.' Blaine shrugged, his fingers clutching at the strap of a satchel. 'Can I come in?'

Kurt heard the yes in his mind and felt his jaw move. It took him a moment to realise it hadn't been out loud. 'Uh, sure. Come in.'

Blaine moved past him, without eye contact. Making his way into the den, he stopped and stared down at the couch.

'Do you want coffee? Tea?' Me? Fortunately, Kurt had the presence of mind to arrest thatparticular offer before it could escape his lips.

'I'm fine.' Blaine sat down, placing his bag at his feet. 'How's your dad?'

'He's-' Kurt grinned, and gave a pleased shrug. 'He's doing well. Using what little energy he has to bitch and moan at me, but yeah, he's good.'

'And, yourself?' Blaine was playing with his shoe lace now, and his voice was stiff and guarded. 'I trust you are well?'

'Read a lot of Jane Austen on that flight, huh?' Blaine glowered at him and Kurt bit his lip. 'Why- why are you here, Blaine?'

'I brought your mail.' Blaine pulled his bag towards him. 'Dave asked me to drop it off.'

'Oh.' Kurt's heart sank. 'You and Dave are- Right.' Blaine's eyes narrowed and Kurt looked away. 'I don't understand why you didn't just forward it. You know my address. You sent my dad a card.' And my name was conspicuously absent.

'I had some free time,' Blaine said with a shrug. 'I thought I'd see what you were up to.'

'Hmm. And you couldn't do that by, oh, a phone?'

There was a chill in the room and it was all coming from Blaine. 'Seeing is believing.'

'Well.' Kurt couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. 'You've seen me now so-'

'What? You're mad at me?' Blaine stared at him in surprise.

A bitter laugh tore from Kurt's throat. 'You couldn't have someone pass on one message? Or, at least give me the chance to explain?' Kurt got to his feet, hand clutching at his hair. 'I thought my father was going to die, Blaine. I realise I hurt you but-'

'Hurt me?' Blaine was standing now, his brows high. 'Kurt, you have- no, no, wait.' He grabbed at Kurt's wrist as if he thought Kurt might flee. 'Believe it or not, I didn't come all this way to argue with you. Please, hold on.'

Kurt snatched his hand back, quickly crossing his arms. He couldn't look at Blaine. He just couldn't. The mixture of anger, guilt and hurt was too much. Especially when laced with so much hope.

'I should have called you.' Blaine shoved his hands into his pockets, looking sheepish. 'I don't know why I didn't. No, that's a lie. I knew. I was pissed at you. And disappointed, too.'

'I honestly never meant for it to affect you. I swear,' Kurt replied as earnestly as he could. 'My dad got sick and I needed money, I tried just working at first but it wasn't enough. This whole renting thing just fell into my lap. I never,' Kurt heaved a deep sigh, 'I never meant for it to go on for as long as it did.'

'I know.' Blaine gave a small smile. 'Dave told me some of it. And a friend of yours. Mercedes?'

'You've met Mercedes?' Kurt tried to ignore the thunderclap of pain in his chest at how casually Karofsky's name fell from Blaine's lips. 'When?'

'She came into the office. She made threats to shove a toner cartridge into tender orifices of my body if I didn't stop messing you around.'

Kurt winced. 'I'm sorry, I didn't ask her to do that.'

'I know. Speaking of toner, is it true you used to print out the majority of Wikipedia, just so I'd have to come and change the cartridge?'

Kurt was going to kill Mercedes.

Blaine laughed, even though a blush was rising in his cheeks. 'You realise how much you were costing the department? Those things aren't cheap!'

'I didn't care. It's not like Karofsky wasn't saving money by paying me a pittance anyway and besides –' Kurt took a deep breath before sending the words out in a rush. ' - I wanted to see you. Every day.

Blaine simply gazed back at him, saying nothing, his expression giving nothing away. Kurt broke the eye contact first.

'I really messed up, didn't I?' His voice was faint as he asked the question. Still, Blaine said nothing. When Kurt peeked up from under his lashes, his expression was still opaque.

Just before the silence got awkward, Blaine spoke, rummaging in his bag as he did so. 'Here,' He handed over two envelopes. One thick, one thin. 'Your mail.'

'This better not be bills,' Kurt muttered, choosing the slighter of the two. 'Oh,' he breathed on seeing the address in the corner.

'Schuester Fashion.' Blaine nodded. 'This is it.'

'You came all this way to see me be rejected in person?'

'Stop being so dramatic! I don't care how adorable it is, I've been dying to open that the whole way here. So, go on, open it!'

Adorable. Blaine thought he was adorable. Kurt's shock of excitement almost made him forget what he held in his hands, until his fingers clenched involuntarily and made the paper rustle. He looked at it again in wonder before biting his lip and shaking his head.

'It- It doesn't matter, anyway.' Kurt's fingertips skimmed the edge. 'I can't leave dad, not while he's like this.'

'Finn said that his mom was often dropping in?' Blaine pointed out, his expression slipping into a smirk. 'And rumour has it she's having better luck than you did with that hot air balloon and kitten.'

'Oh, ew!' Kurt glared. 'That's my father.'

'Who is a grown up, Kurt.' Blaine moved to stand by him, nudging him with his shoulder. 'He gets to make his own decisions. And mistakes, when it comes down to it. We all do. God knows I'm not even any kind of a saint.'

Kurt pressed a hand over his heart in mock surprise. 'Good heavens, is it really Blaine Anderson, standing here in my living room, admitting he's not perfect?'

'Try not to get used to it.' Blaine rolled his eyes. 'Look, are you ever, ever going to open that letter?'

He looked down one last time at the sealed envelope. 'Fine. Fine.' Looking around, he spotted a letter opener on the table near the basket his dad put bills in and picked it up, slicing through the top fold with ease. With one last deep breath, he pulled out the paper inside and unfolded it.

'Well?' Blaine pressed closer, the warmth of his arm against Kurt's own. 'What did it say?'

'I'm in,' Kurt said numbly. 'They want me to start in September!'

'Kurt! That's amazing!' Blaine grabbed him into a hug, and for one moment all the last three months faded away into nothing but a tight embrace.

'No, I mean- yes, it's amazing but I can't, Blaine! For one thing, I can't afford the rent on my apartment without a job and-'

'That's taken care of.' Blaine stepped back, his hands tight against Kurt's elbows. 'Look at the other envelope.'

Kurt put the acceptance letter aside and reached for the bulkier package, ripping it open he stared down at it in confusion for a few moments. 'It's a lease. On my apartment.'

'Dave's spoken to the landlord, he wants to change it to his name. He finds it,' Blaine dipped his index fingers into quotation marks, 'Ah, 'charming and shit.' And yes, I do quote.'

'I guess- I guess I couldn't keep it.' Didn't want to keep it, more like. It was no longer his haven, his sanctuary. But he didn't want to know he was handing over a love nest to Karofsky and Blaine, either. Selfish as that thought was after everything Karofsky had done for him. 'But I can hardly afford another one.'

'No problem.' Blaine grinned. 'Mercedes wants you to stay with her.'

'Oh, Blaine, I can't just impose on her like that! And my dad-'

'You won't be. You need to let people hold you up once in awhile. People want to help you, Kurt. You mean a lot to-' Blaine cleared his throat, '-people.'

'My father has just had a serious operation, Blaine.'

'It's not until September. That's two months away, Your father will be fine, he has his friends, he has Mrs. Hudson. He won't be alone, Kurt.' Blaine rubbed at the back of his neck, kneading at his skin. 'You can't keep putting obstacles in your own way.'

Kurt started at that, at the similarities to his father's words from earlier. Karofsky and Mercedes were already involved, and Kurt wondered idly if a phone-call had been placed to his dad as well. 'I don't know,' he whispered. 'It's a lot to take in.'

'Then think it over. And then tomorrow you can show me the sights of Lima.' Blaine gestured to his own bag. 'I assume I can stay? I didn't book a hotel because I know how much you love pretending to be one.'

Kurt laughed in shock. 'You don't think that was slightly presumptuous or anything?'

Blaine smiled back, the warmest one since Kurt had found him on his doorstep. 'Life's about risks, Kurt. Don't you know that?'

'It's been a long time.'

'Yes, it has hasn't it?

'Well, it is good to see you.'

'You've said that.'

Cary Grant was looking down at Deborah Kerr now, barely concealed anger as she stared in shock at his sudden appearance.

Kurt glanced sideways, the sounds of the television faint as he watched the light dance across Blaine's face. Blaine Anderson, here at his side watching weepy movies with him and not a single lie in sight.

'I can't believe you made me set up your DVD player. I'm supposed to be off the clock,' Blaine muttered with an amused glance to the side.

'No one knows what those three wires do,' Kurt insisted.

'They're colour coded – oh, whatever.' Blaine returned his attention to the screen.

'Don't you agree that when someone doesn't keep an appointment, they should apologise?' Grant asked a devastated Kerr.

'You know,' Blaine said slowly. 'Maybe staying at Mercedes' isn't the best idea.'

Kurt felt his heart plummet. 'Oh? Why's that?' He tried to keep his tone disinterested, as if he hadn't already screamed yes in his head about returning to New York.

'It's so far from Schuester's offices. You'd be late every day. Wouldn't look good.' Blaine shifted on the couch, dipping the sofa and causing Kurt to press even closer against him. 'It's just around the corner from me.'

'I- I see.' He couldn't be suggesting what Kurt thought he was suggesting.

Could he?

'And I've got this spare room. Just sitting there. Needs to be cleaned out, paint job could use a do-over.' Blaine shrugged. 'Maybe duck egg blue?'

'Blaine,' Kurt began but he had nowhere to go from there. Was Blaine offering out of friendship? As wonderful as it was to have Blaine back in his life, Kurt couldn't be sure he could settle for that, because at some point during these past few months Kurt had fallen for Blaine. Fallen for him hard. Love was easy, his father had said, and in no way would being that close be easy. 'What would Karofsky think?'

'Why would it have anything to do with him?' Blaine gave him a bemused look. 'We aren't dating. I don't even work there anymore.'

'What?'

'I didn't say? I quit last month. Hence the free time. Don't look so sad! I have a new position now, it's quite good, too.' He looked back towards the screen. 'Schuester Fashions, maybe you know about it?'

'What?' Kurt was gaping now. 'But- I don't, I don't understand-'

'I went for an IT consultant position, and after ridding Mr. Schuester's computer of the Sylvester virus he hired me on the spot. He was pretty grateful actually. So grateful that he did me a favour and dug through the mail and what do you know – there was your internship application and letters of recommendation.'

Kurt sucked in a breath. 'He offered me the internship because of you?'

'No, he offered it because you're talented. I just pointed him in the right direction.' Blaine sounded so calm when all of Kurt's world was one resounding heart beat.

'You did that for me? After everything that had happened?' Kurt could feel tears prickling his eyes and for the first time in months they weren't ones of sadness. 'You'd actually want me to live with you?'

On the television, Grant was storming around Kerr's room now, full of false bravado and very real hurt. She gazed up at him with sad eyes while he spun words that cut and wounded.

'Isn't it sad?' Blaine whispered, staring at the screen and moving closer to Kurt. 'They're so clearly meant to be together and everything keeps getting in the way. Misunderstandings, trust issues, pride.' He paused, and they sat in silence for a moment, Kurt almost afraid to even breathe.

'I didn't want to be hurt again,' Blaine announced suddenly. 'That's why I never called. I knew if I did, I would forgive you the moment I heard your voice. Like I did the moment I saw you in the doorway. I was scared that I'd end up trusting you again, only to be hurt like I was with Dave but- the way I feel about you, is so much more than the way I felt about him.' Kurt had to remind himself to breathe as he stared at Blaine's profile. 'I know you never meant to hurt me, that it was the furthest thing from your intention. You're not like that, Kurt. I just- I just know.'

'I love you,' Kurt burst out, without any communication from his brain to his mouth.

Blaine's mouth curved into a smile as he continued to watch the couple on screen. Cary Grant was throwing open Deborah Kerr's bedroom door now, realisation climbing slowly over his face.

'I absolutely adore you,' Kurt continued, all his walls fallen by the wayside in the rush of his emotion.

Cary Grant walked slowly back into the living room, his eyes full of understanding and regret.

'Blaine? Aren't you listening? I'm trying to tell you how I feel!'

'Shh,' Blaine leant to his side, cheek resting against the crown of Kurt's head and his arm closing tightly round his shoulders. 'Here's the best part.'

The End