#cat kurt

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Kurt woke to a bright light shining in his eyes, strange smells, and a man's voice that wouldn't stop talking. He just wanted to go back to sleep, but self preservation forced him to take stock of this new situation and determine if he needed to run.

"Hey, Buddy, can you tell me your name? His pupils are responding. That's good. Buddy, come on, you can do it."

A soft, woman's voice spoke next. He knew that one and it filled him with comfort. "Honey, we need to know your name. Do you remember it?"

"Kur...t."

"Do you know who I am?"

Kurt pushed through the fog. He knew this one. "Carole."

"That's right. You're doing really good, Sweetie."

The human male spoke again. "Can you tell me what happened to you?

A surge of panic swept through Kurt's body. Flashes of looming shadows coming out of the darkness, fists, and booted feet. Ice and his boyfriend lying on it, unmoving. "Blaine. Where's Blaine?"

"Blaine is fine. He's with another doctor."

Kurt tried to focus his eyes on his surroundings, on the objects behind Carole. The medical equipment in his curtained off area and the smell of antiseptic was not reassuring. "Where...where am I?'

"At the emergency clinic."

"No!" This was bad. Very bad. Kurt struggled at the hands pushing him down. "No! Let go. Blaine! Run!"

Carole tried her best to reassure the scared boy. Even in his injured state he was strong and it took both her and the doctor to press him back onto the bed, hoping they weren't making his condition worse. "Kurt, you're hurt. Please lay back down. I promise you're safe. No one is going to harm you or Blaine."

"Please, let me go." Every inch of his body screamed with pain and it begged him to stop, but he had no choice. He had to run. He had to keep his boyfriend safe. He couldn't let him be hurt further. "Blaine!"

"This clinic isn't like the other one. It's safe. I promise. Doctor Howell and I are just trying to help you."

"I want to see him."

"After we check you out. Please let us help you, Honey."

Kurt looked into Carole's eyes, felt her hand on his arm, no longer holding him down, but offered in comfort. She had never hurt him before, never put him in danger. With how bad he felt, it was time to trust her again. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay."

The man's voice returned and did his self assured, grinning face. "Blaine is with Doctor Jones. She's going to take good care of him. My job is to worry about you. Call me Doctor Carl. Can you tell me where it hurts, Kurt?"

Kurt tried to roll his eyes, unsure how successful he was at it. "Everywhere."

"I bet. Where's the worst pain?"

That was also a stupid question, but he tried to answer it anyway. "Head, face, shoulder, leg, chest."

"Are you having trouble breathing?"

"A little. Mostly hurts." The questions became shorter, more clinical and direct. Fired off at a fast pace that he struggled to keep up with.

"Which leg?"

"Um...left."

"Which shoulder?"

"This one." He moved his hand to where it hurt.

"Your right?"

It took Kurt a minute to figure out the answer. "Yes."

The doctor nodded after each answer, marking his patient's responses on the chart in his hands, and summing them up in his head. He gave the kid his best charming smile. He had always been praised for his bedside manner. "Kurt, I'm not going to lie to you. You are pretty messed up. The good news is that I don't think you're in any immediate danger. We need to run some tests and do a more thorough assessment, so you and I are going see a lot of each other tonight and mostly likely the next couple of days. But first, we need to get you into one of those embarrassing medical gowns. We'll make sure your privacy is maintained as much as possible though, okay? Is it alright if Carole helps you into it or would you prefer a different nurse?"

Kurt nodded his assent. It was a bad idea. Verbal replies were better. They didn't make his head swim as much. "Carole is fine."

"Alrighty then. I'll see you in a bit. Nurse Carole, retake his vitals and let me know if anything changes. I'm going to go see if the CT machine has decided to work tonight."

"And if it hasn't?"

"I'm going to whack it really hard."

Carole laughed at the joke and pulled the curtain fully around the patient assessment area Kurt was in. "How are you doing, Sweetie?"

"Feel sick."

"Like you want to vomit?"

Kurt forgot he wasn't supposed to move his head.

Carole reached for a bedpan before her charge could reply and caught his mess just in time. "That's common with concussions. Get it all out. You'll feel better."

Given how little he'd eaten the last couple of days, Kurt was surprised there was that much. "Sorry."

"I've been a parent for twenty years and a nurse for longer. A little puke doesn't bother me. Do you think you're finished?" At Kurt's whispered "yes," she set the pan down and held the straw sticking out of a small cup of water to his lips. "Have a few sips to get the taste out, but not too much. Don't want to upset your stomach again."

Kurt was grateful for relief the water provided, but surprised when he saw blood left on the straw. A tooth wiggled when he pressed his tongue against it. Fuck.

"Don't worry, Kurt. We're going to take good care of you. Doctor Howell studied dentistry before he switched to internal medicine. Do you think you're ready to get changed now or do you need to vomit again?"

"I'm ready." He braced himself for what was to come. This was Carole. She was safe. At least she had been so far.

"We're going to start with your boots and coat and work our way through the layers. Any time you feel uncomfortable or in pain, you let me know and I'll stop. I'll keep your exposure to a minimum." Carole looked for confirmation before starting. Sadly, she'd had too many patients that had been abused in the ways Kurt had and it broke her heart. She kept her touches methodical, clinical, and gentle; her words carefully chosen, and apologized when the movement caused him pain. Her mind kept note of the recent injuries, some layered upon old ones. The bruises on his arms and chest were extensive, as were the cuts on his face. As she helped Kurt remove his cargo pants and long johns, scissors at the ready should it be less painful to cut them off, she was relieved that his leg didn't appear to be broken. The dark patch of bruising and sharp pain at the back of his thigh was most likely a hamstring tear. She'd seen a lot of them and not just the one her son had gotten playing football in high school.

"We're almost done, Kurt. I'm sorry, but the doctor needs everything removed. Do you want to do it on your own or would you like me to help?"

Kurt looked away and tried to focus his mind on anything but what was being done to his body. He couldn't bring himself to answer her directly, unable to stop his voice from its low whisper, repeating, "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay." He tried to turn on his side, fumbling to open the snap at the back of his underwear. He felt Carole's hands do it for him and then pull away. Clenching his eyes shut, he pushed his briefs down his legs as far as he could manage, not quite realizing his chant had changed to, "This is different. This is different."

Carole did as promised, keeping Kurt's nudity as brief as possible, slipping the gown over his arms, tying it shut in the back, and removing his underwear the rest of the way after covering his body with a blanket. From what she had seen, there didn't appear to be any fresh trauma to his genitals or buttocks. The doctor would do need to do a thorough examination though, given the severity of the attack and his past history.

She gave him a moment to collect himself. He looked so dejected and helpless. She was used to scared Kurt, angry Kurt, Kurt in pain after being attacked by bees, and Kurt sick with the flu. But never had she seen him this broken and resigned to the unknown fate that awaited him. The mom in her wanted to cry and hold him and tell him everything would be fine. The nurse in her knew her patient needed professionalism. She settled on a compromise of the two. "I'm going to help you get through this, Kurt. Every step of the way if you need me. Alright?" She retrieved the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around his least damaged arm. "I need to retake your vitals and then draw some blood. Are you fine with that?"

Kurt shrugged, gasping out loud at the pain the movement caused.

"I'm sensing the good pain killers in your future...and cheesecake if you feel up to it." She was pleased her offer had been met with a smile and perked up ears. It was a good sign that he was still in there and would make it through. She pumped up the cuff, put the tips of the stethoscope in her ears, and pressed the tunable diaphragm to his brachial artery. His blood pressure was still high and she made a note of it on his chart. She talked him through the steps as she took his temperature, slipped the pulse oximeter on his finger, and then got out the equipment for the blood draw, grateful she'd been trained in phlebotomy.

Carole regretted what she had to ask of the kid next, but it was necessary. She kept her words and actions as clinical as possible. "I'm going to need a urine and fecal sample, Kurt. Do you feel you could produce the necessary bowel movements?" She continued after his nod. "Would you like to do it here or in the bathroom?"

Knowing he didn't have a choice in the matter, not a real one anyway, he gave his consent, stealing himself for the mortification to come. Carole had treated him with respect and as a nurse, this was just another day for her. Hell, given the places he'd had to relieve himself while homeless, a medical setting was the least embarrassing. Internal pep talk done, he replied to her as he tried to sit up. "Here is fine. Hurts to walk." He watched as Carole changed her gloves and retrieved a fresh bed pan, two specimen cups, sterile wipes, and what looked like a tongue depressor. He followed her instructions, embarrassed that she had to see him fully exposed and help when his dominant hand couldn't grasp the urine collection cup properly. He was grateful he had "voided," as she had called it, not realizing how full his bladder was until offered the opportunity to empty it. He allowed her to help him clean up, unable to keep hiding how much the movements needed for the collections had hurt.

Further relief came when he was allowed to lie back down and Carole covered him with the blanket, promising to return with news of Blaine once she had dropped the samples off. Kurt tried to thank her, but sleep came on him fast and he drifted off into a restless oblivion.

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Kurt, can you wake up for me? Come on, Buddy, I know you're tired, but I need you to wake up."

"No." Kurt clamped his eyes shut and turned away from the annoying voice.

"Don't make me break out the light pen thingy. What is the name of that Nurse Carole? I can never remember."

"Pen light."

"There's not a fancy word for it?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Don't become a doctor, Kid. All that technical jargon? It messes with your head."

Kurt tried to bat away the hand that was forcing his eyelids open and the other holding the light, but he couldn't make the connection.

"I warned you. His pupils are responding to light. Reaction time is slow and coordination is bit of a mess. Okay, Kurt, time to find out just how extensive your injuries are. If anything hurts or you need me to stop, let me know. Nurse Carole is going to be here with you the entire time. Are you okay with that?"

He glared at the man. "I don't have a choice."

"Mmm...technically you do. No one is going to force you to stay, but I really think you should."

"Fine." He was more annoyed that he wasn't allowed to go back to sleep than anything else. He knew he needed help. It was better than last time when he'd curled up behind some abandoned warehouse thinking he was going to die. The hand Carole laid on his arm was reassuring and he tried to accept the comfort that was offered with it.

"Kurt, I'm going to help you sit up and then I'll have to untie your gown and drop it to your waist so the doctor can check your lungs and heart, and then start assessing your injuries and potential damage to your internal organs. Are you alright with that?"

Kurt nodded his agreement. This was going to suck, but he liked that they asked first, instead of just touching him without warning nor a care to his feelings. He couldn't take the deep breaths Doctor Carl wanted and he didn't need the guy to tell him why. He'd broken ribs before. Or rather, other people had broken his ribs. The pain was a familiar one. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Fuck!" The one in his shoulder as it was manipulated wasn't. "Fucking hell!"

"Sorry about that. As stupid as this sounds, I'm going to need you to tell me on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, what is the level of your pain in that area?" The man chuckled at the non-verbal reply. "I think we can count that as an eleven, Nurse Carole." He backed away from the bed a few steps to allow her to move into his place. "Carole is going to help you pull your gown back up and then I'll examine your face, mouth, and head. Please don't bite me. It's the one thing I hated about dental school aside from all the halitosis."

The joke seemed familiar to Kurt, but he couldn't place it. He did was he was asked, gasping when gloved hands pressed too hard on the swollen, bleeding skin on his face, when they brushed up against the loose tooth in his mouth, and then again when they touched what he assumed were cuts on the top and back of his head.

"I'm going to need to take the blanket off your legs now so I can look at them. Are you okay with that?"

Kurt gave his consent, but tugged on the edge of the gown and held it in place, warily watching the human doctor's every move. He pushed his foot against the man's hand when asked, allowed him to press on his skin to check for broken bones, and moved to the edge of the bed so that each leg could be bent and extended in turn to check his range of mobility. At least the doctor laughed again when he flipped him off. The pain in his left leg was as bad as his shoulder, and he was surprised when he was told it wasn't broken. When it was requested that he turn over so the backs of his legs and tail could be examined, he was grateful when Carole laid the blanket across his butt, protecting what little modesty he had left. It got lifted away though when the doctor discovered bruising on his hip and wanted a closer look.

Allowed to finally lie back fully on the bed and be covered again, he braced himself for what was surely to come next. There was only one area left.

"Kurt, given that you haven't had proper medical care and where you spent time, I think it best if you consent to a rectal and genital exam. Either I can do it or there's Doctor Jones. She's a mixed race human-hybrid and has special training in trauma cases such as yours."

Kurt immediately regretted shaking his head violently as a fresh wave of nausea swept through him. "Not you."

"Fair enough. You'll consent to the exam?"

His reply came out in a broken, "Yes."

"For your protection, there has to be another person in the room. Would you feel more comfortable with a hybrid nurse as well?"

This time, Kurt didn't shake his head as he replied. "Carole is fine."

* * * * * * *

Doctor Carl left the examination area and another person arrived shortly thereafter, standing behind the wall of curtains. "May I come in?"

Kurt took a deep breath before replying, immediately regretting it as much as he knew he'd regret what he was consenting to. At least the exam would hurt less than broken ribs. At least he hoped so. "Yes."

The woman that appeared was indeed a mixed race hybrid. Her dark skin was more visible under her chestnut fur than a full hybrid. Mixes tended to have less hair than full hybrids, but there were always exceptions of course. His boyfriend, for one, whose fur was curly and dense, and some full humans he'd seen. Her eyes were a striking brown and filled with a familiar sense of genuine kindness.

He was glad when she didn't offer her hand to shake when she introduced herself, keeping them in the pockets of her lab coat. He hated shaking hands. It was unnecessary touching and he was about to be touched far more than he wanted to be.

"Hi, Kurt, I'm Doctor Jones."

"You took care of Blaine?"

"Yes, I did. I can't provide you with any details without his permission, but I can tell you that he's going to be fine. If you'd like, I can try to put you two close together after you've been checked out. You're both going to need to be under observation for awhile, so it actually makes it easier on us."

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm sorry. This is unprofessional of me and you of course don't have to answer, but by any chance, do you know a Mercedes Jones?"

"Yes."

"So you are her Kurt. She talks about you all the time and you look so much like my dad. No wonder she gets confused. It's nice to finally meet you and it's lovely that you've been helping her out."

"She's nice."

"Well, now that that curiosity is out of the way, shall we begin? Though, if I made you feel uncomfortable I can leave and bring back Doctor Howell."

"You're fine." Kurt let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Does this really have to be done?"

"I honestly think it would be to your benefit. I'll be checking for visible signs of STIs, scar tissue, and any unhealed tears or damage that needs to be repaired. Nurse Carole has taken your blood, urine, and stool samples but those tests can't tell us everything."

The abused hybrid averted his eyes away from the woman's. "I know there are scars. I saw them...with a mirror once."

"I'm very sorry for what happened to you and what you've been through. I promise to be as professional and gentle as possible. I can talk you through the exam using only clinical terms or I can remain silent. And at any time you need me to stop, I will."

Kurt clutched the blanket to his chest tightly, knowing it would soon be taken from him. If this had to be done, he was at least thankful it was Mercedes' daughter. A person that sweet could only have raised another in kind. He felt he could trust her. "What do I have to do?"

"I'm going to ask you a series of questions that I need you to answer as honestly as possible. Then we'll begin the physical exam. Like I mentioned before, I can talk you through it or remain silent. If you have music you'd like to listen to and a pair of earbuds, you can use those. If you need to dissociate yourself from what's happening, that's fine and perfectly normal. Just remember that you are free to stop me at any time."

"You can tell me what's going to happen. Just not too...not in too much...detail." Kurt started to push the blanket away, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"You can keep the blanket. I'm going to ask the questions first. Nurse Carole, if you wouldn't mind handing me the clipboard with his chart on it."

Kurt startled for a brief minute. He'd forgotten that she was there. A fresh wave of embarrassment flooded through him. Maybe it was for the best though, that she finally know. Maybe she could help or tell Burt so he could better understand why he was still cautious around him. He was grateful she didn't talk though nor make a move to hold his hand or otherwise touch him. While he'd understand the why, it would be near-unbearable given what was about to happen.

Doctor Jones pulled the stool closer to his bed and began to ask her questions, marking down his answers, sometimes a simple check mark, other times a bit of writing when he was forthcoming with a requested explanation. Yes, he was currently sexually active. All acts between himself and his singular partner were consensual. Yes, he had been forced into non-consensual sex. When? It depended upon what you considered sex. Fine. Then that act and that one and that one at twelve. The rest, the worst, when he was fourteen. Had he ever performed X, Y, or Z for money or services. Yes, to X and Y. When? Fourteen through sixteen if you didn't count the time at the Reformatory. Yes, protection was used. He'd insisted on it. Before then, what Ryerson did to him and made him do, he didn't think so, but he wasn't looking. He could taste it though.

Eventually the questions stopped and he was allowed to rest for a bit. He asked for the bed pan and vomited into it. His stomach heaving out nothing but bile and the bit of water he'd had earlier. He accepted the cup of water and rinsed out his mouth, watching the swirls of blood mix with the saliva and other liquids. There had been blood back then too, but it had been in a different area.

The doctor allowed him more time to collect himself, but eventually had to press on. He couldn't blame her. He wanted to get this over with too.

"Keep lying on your back, Kurt. Nurse Carole will fold the blanket and gown above your waist and then I'll begin the examination of your genitalia. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes." He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he was anywhere else. "It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon." ran on a loop inside his head. He tried to ignore what was going on, but at times he had to reply to a question, and there was still the fact that someone other than himself or Blaine was touching his penis.

"You have some mild abrasions. Are you and your partner using lubricant?"

"We ran out. It was cold and there was...chaffing."

"I'll make sure you're sent home with some and a supply of condoms." Doctor Jones finished her exam, gently folded Kurt's gown down back over him, removed her gloves, and jotted down her notes.

She took a silent, deep breath. The next part of the exam was often the worst for her patients, but if she wanted to be thorough, it had to be done. She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and retrieved a two part, tube shaped metallic instrument, a couple of sterile culture swabs, and a bottle of lubricant. "Kurt, if you're fine with proceeding, I'm going to need you to lie on the side that hurts you the least and try to bend your knees up to your chest. I'll do an external exam of your rectum and then an internal one. First, I'll use my finger to feel for any irregularities in your prostate." She held up the metallic device on a level that he could more clearly see. "Then I'll insert this anoscope. It'll allow me to see if there's any internal damage and take some samples. Do I have your permission to perform these procedures?"

Tears pooled in Kurt's eyes. "Just get it over with."

"May Nurse Carole help you get into the correct position?"

"Yes." He yelped in pain as his body was bent into place. Where were the good drugs? He had been promised drugs. And surely this wasn't good for his broken ribs. He felt a draft as his gown was pulled away from his back and his tail held out of the way by Carole. He tried to ignore the sound of the doctor's voice and the touch of her gloved fingers. Tears ran down his face as he was entered and his prostate touched. He hated his body for reacting the way it did. This wasn't enjoyable! "No. No. No. No. No."

The doctor pulled her hands away. "Kurt, would you like me to stop?"

Kurt's emotional core screamed, "Yes!" It was the logical part of his mind that replied verbally. "There's only one last thing?"

"Yes, the scope and sample collection."

"Do it." At the first press of the lubricated device, he started shaking. He tried to think of Blaine and the one perfect night they'd had at the roller skating rink. April was alone, the last customer gone, and she'd allowed them to skate for a few of hours with the promise they'd finish her closing duties. And so they had skated, and fallen, but mostly skated, blasting Katy Perry and showtunes, turning on the disco lights, eating too-hot fries, and drinking the last of the shitty Chardonnay she'd previously traded him for the brownies. They had felt so perfectly normal and free then. Just two teenagers in love.

The illusion was shattered when he felt the device being pulled out and his bottom wiped clean. Carole helped him lie back into a more comfortable position and covered him up with his medical gown and blanket.

It was the doctor, not her, that he heard speak. "It's all over now, Kurt. Thank you for trusting me. Doctor Howell or I will let you know when the results come back."

"I want to get dressed."

"I'm sorry, but that's not a good idea given the state that you're in. You're still going to need a few X-rays and a CT scan. Your wounds will need to be cleaned and tended to. And given the state that your clothes are in, I think it best if you don't put them back on until they've been washed. We usually have a few extra sets of clothing around here. I'm sure we can find you something to wear once all that is done."

"I can have Burt bring you some of your clothes from home."

"Thank you, Nurse Carole. It would make things easier given our limited resources. Pajamas would be best for now, something loose and comfortable. Is that alright with you, Kurt?"

He turned away from the voices and pulled the blanket more firmly around himself. "No choice."

"I understand it feels that way. We're just trying to help you. The worst is over. You'll be feeling better in no time."

The doctor left and Carole did too after a pat to his arm and a soft, "Try to get some rest, Honey. I'll come get you when it's time for your X-ray.

* * * * * * *

The worst was far from over. There were the scans of his chest, leg, head, shoulder, and hands. More being manipulated into odd positions that had his too-thin gown either riding up or falling open and his body shaking in pain. After one of them, he finally got to see to Blaine. Or rather Blaine's exposed backside as he was asked to sit on an examination table so that his tail could be laid out and X-rayed. Before the door was shut, he exchanged a forlorn look with his boyfriend. They were in medical hell, but at least they didn't feel so alone anymore.

Carole giving him a sponge bath added to his humiliation. He'd begged her to let him take a shower alone, but both she and Doctor Carl didn't think he was in any condition to do it safely. At least she let him clean his own privates and kept the parts of him not being washed covered. He was given a fresh gown to put on while she changed his sheets and brought him a clean blanket and pillow. There was still no underwear nor the promised pair of pajama pants. He had seen Blaine wearing some when he was being wheeled into the CT scan room, the lucky bastard.

After the bath came stitches to his face and head, splints on two fingers of his right hand, gauze wrapped around both hands, and at least four ACE bandages secured around his thigh. Apparently, he'd torn his hamstring and pulled his ITB when he'd slipped on the ice and fallen after kicking one of his attackers in the balls. He hoped the asshole could still taste them for all the pain he was in because of it. Doctor Carl had told him the surgery to fix his upper carnassial tooth would have to come later. Kurt had thought the examination and scans of his dislocated shoulder had been the worst pain that area would ever feel. Then his shoulder was moved back into place. Aliens hiding behind Pluto would have heard his screams. At least once it was over and his arm put into a sling, it felt better.

Because of the tooth and swelling in his face, he was put on mushy foods. At the clinic, this meant oatmeal, or something that looked a lot like it, and smelled meaty. He snuck it to his boyfriend when the staff wasn't looking. He didn't feel like eating anyway. Even the vanilla pudding Blaine gave him in exchange tasted funny and felt odd in his mouth.

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Kurt felt like an idiot. It was just a bowl of cereal that Carole had tossed. Not even a full one; only the scattered remnants, soggy in the little puddle of milk that had collected at the bottom. He'd gotten up to go to the bathroom and she, assuming he was done, had scraped the leavings into the trash and put the bowl and spoon into the sink. The very same kind of food bits he used to eat out of their garbage and recycling. Intellectually, he knew he didn't lead that kind of life anymore. The instinctual, emotional, psychologically damaged part of his brain hadn't gotten the message yet. So he'd grabbed the box of cereal and stormed off in a huff, leaving the house and hiding out in the abandoned lot, eating to the point of painful fullness and heaving near some someone's prized rose bushes. Come the Spring thaw, they'd be in for a unfortunate surprise.

Embarrassed, Kurt returned home and placed the box of cereal back in its place. He was going to make this up to her. Seeing the bowl still in the sink, he began loading the dishwasher.

"Kurt, a package arrived for you. It's from Canada."

Curious, Kurt stopped the task and washed his hands before heading into the living room. He took the pair of scissors Carole had brought out, and paused, afraid to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry for before."

"For what? Being normal? I'm the one who should be apologizing. Sweetie, I can only imagine a fraction of what you've been through and I forget sometimes that this is all new to you. I know better, but I forget."

Kurt gave her a weak smile. "I forget sometimes too."

"How about we call it a draw and start the day over? Open up that box and let's see what you got!"

"Okay." He carefully cut open the seals and opened the top flaps. "I don't know anyone in Canada."

"It's from Aunt Anne and Aunt Dani. They said to expect a box, but not to tell you because they wanted it to be a surprise."

The hybrid frowned at the package. "It doesn't smell like cheesecake."

Carole laughed. "It's not cheesecake. I have the recipe though. We can make some this week if you'd like."

"Yes, please!" No longer disappointed, Kurt finished opening the box and removed the layers of bubble wrap. He pulled out four bundles wrapped in white tissue paper which were further protected by plastic bags. "They weren't holding back on the packaging were they?" He liked that Carole laughed at his joke and continued to try and unearth the hidden contents, getting more and more curious by the minute. When at last he had the first item free, he discovered folded layers of the softest deep green cloth. Kurt held the item up and looked closer at the label. This wasn't just a piece of hybrid clothing, this was designer. Maybe not this year's seasons or even last's, but definitely designer. Eagerly he unwrapped the remaining packages, practically dancing with excitement.

Curious herself, Carole inspected each garment after Kurt had. "The girls wanted you to have something of your own. Something new and nice to wear that was made for hybrids instead of Burt and Finn's hand-me-downs. Do you like them?"

Kurt nodded his head with enthusiasm, his eyes wide, and voice a higher pitch from the exhilaration of it all. "This is too much."

"Oh, Sweetie, I think this is exactly what you needed. New clothes for a new life or fresh clothes for a fresh start if you prefer. Are they the right size? I had to guess. Dani included a gift receipt in case any exchanges needed to be made."

He shrugged and held up one of the shirts to his torso. "I think so. Most of the clothes you've given me have fit, and they look about the same size as the ones I've acquired myself."

"Well go try them on! I'll take some pictures and we'll send them to the girls."

"Okay." Kurt retreated to his room, the bundle of clothes in his hands. This was all so surreal and overwhelming. He knew that in such a small and racist town like Lima, it was too dangerous for Carole to buy him hybrid clothes at the local Walmart. She'd heard of those of his race trying to shop there and getting harassed by customers and staff. Burt had heard the similar stories from his hybrid customers who were having to drive hours away or order online, taking the risk of their packages being stolen or messed with. To have something of his own that he didn't make or modify, that wasn't a Reformatory jumpsuit or the castaways of others, that was right out of the pages of Vogue...It wasn't his life. It was a dream he'd only rarely let himself indulge in.

Kurt pulled off his sweatpants, OSU hoodie, and T-shirt, shivering a bit at the chill in the room. He tugged on the pair of pants that were at the top of the pile. The stretchy, thick fabric was woven into a subtle geometric pattern of rich browns and navy. They hugged his legs, butt, and thighs in wonderful ways. The arms and legs were pieced together with extra seams that permitted the greater range of motion for the flexible joints of hybrid physiology. Best of all, the closure at the back was a decorative, practical snap. Finally, no Velcro! Velcro was an evil used by cheap manufacturers who never had their fur ripped off by it, nor cared about the hybrids forced to sew it onto clothing, let alone wear it.

He chose the matching sweater next. It was just as warm, cozy, and fashionable. Before, he had thought having new underwear was amazing. This was a hundred times better. Wanting to see how he looked in a mirror and to thank Anne and Dani for the clothes, he hurried out of the room, relishing the feel of the fabric against his skin as he moved.

Carole held her hands to her chest, trying and failing to contain her excitement. "Kurt! You look wonderful! Do you like the clothes? How do they fit? Hold still so I can get some pictures."

"I love them." Kurt laughed at her reaction. Carole was an easy person to like. He turned and posed as picture after flash-lit picture was taken. He even allowed her to take a short video of him showing off the clothes and waving at the phone.

"I think we have enough of this outfit. Go try on the next one!"

Kurt indulged her, not that he minded at all. He only wished that Blaine was here to see him or a way to send him the pictures. There was always an in-person fashion show he could put on for him another day.

He picked up the long-sleeved shirt and pulled it on, loving the slit at the end of the sleeves that he could slip his thumbs through, preventing the length from riding up and offering extra warmth without the need for full gloves. He loved that the hood was without openings for his ears. He hated that some human manufactures, and humans, treated animals and hybrids the same. He could hear just fine and his head was far less cold while covered. Same for snow pants with tail holes. If it wasn't safer to hide his tail and take advantage of appearing human in winter, he'd make his own pants with a sleeve for his tail. Shaking off such negative thoughts, he returned to his present, happy reality. Running a hand along the plush pile of forest green, he discovered that the color changed to a smoky blue. The shirt was the color of his eyes!

"You alright, Sweetie?"

Apparently, that squeal of delight hadn't been inside his head. "I'm fine, Carole. Almost ready."

He pulled on the equally transforming chestnut and beige pants. He was wearing himself, without all the horror movie creepiness.

Kurt's entrance was as well received as the last had been. There was applause, squealing from both of them, and even more pictures taken than before. He permitted Carole to brush the fabric along his arm, surprised that the touch didn't make him flinch. "I think this outfit is my favorite."

"Mine too. Though both suit you well."

"They're amazing. Make sure they know, please. I can't thank them enough."

"There was something else in the box for you."

Kurt's ears perked up in shock. "What?"

Carole unrolled a small flag. The rainbow stripes were familiar to Kurt, but not the one at the top. It was single stripe made up of smaller vertical ones in black, brown, beige, gray, and white. "They said it's the new symbol of the LGBTQIA+ hybrid community. It started in Philadelphia and has spread to other larger cities in the U.S. and Canada. They picked it up at a store in Toronto."

Kurt took the item with reverence and blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. "There's a flag just for me?"

"There is, Honey."

"This is a really good day."

"You deserve all of them." Carole opened her arms, hoping, but not expecting to be taken up on her unspoken offer.

Kurt leaned into the hug, relishing the comfort it provided him. It was a really, really good day.

* * * * * * *

"Glad you're home, Kiddo.  Do you mind comin' into the shop for a couple of hours and trying out those upholstery repair skills? Mike and Tina's kids got into a fight and tore up the backseat of their car. They agreed to be our guinea pigs before we start officially offering the service. I closed up the shop early, so you'll be safe. The guys were happy to take a break."

"Sure. Let me change first."

Burt smiled at the kid's reluctant sigh. "I take it you like the fancy duds Anne and Dani sent you?"

Kurt couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "They're perfect."

"I'm happy to hear that. You look real nice. It suits you. I promise you can change back the minute you get home."

"Okay." Kurt left for his room and returned shortly wearing the most worn and grease-stained clothes he owned. He'd refused the offer of a set of Hummel Tires & Lube uniforms; he was done with jumpsuits forever. A shop T-shirt and pair of sturdy work pants he could handle, but the other brought back too many bad memories.

He zipped up his coat, tucked his tail under it, and tugged on his hat, gloves, and scarf, ready to leave through the front door and get into the truck, looking as human as possible should any neighbors be about.

It didn't take long for the pair to arrive at the garage. Burt performing their usual routine of driving into the shop, closing the large door, and making sure all blinds were shut before Kurt left the vehicle and removed his disguise. He found Tina's car easily enough and retrieved the keys from the rack they'd been placed on.

One thing Kurt liked about Hummel Tires and Lube - it was orderly. The office was a bit of a mess and the shop was greasy, a hazard of the trade, but it was a well-run machine. After his own interactions with Burt in "boss mode," it was easy to see why the majority of his staff had stayed on for years. The man expected you to do your job and do it to the best of your ability. If you didn't know how, he'd teach you, and was always on hand to help out. Best of all, he treated you like you mattered, and that meant the world to him.

Kurt heard a familiar voice when he was an hour into his work, carefully sewing up the tears so that the stitching couldn't be seen. It wasn't perfect, but it was far better than it had been before. Only if you looked closely could you see where the fabric had been stretched or a knot of thread tied. He sealed up the last of the holes, a bit of work still needed on it, and knotted the end of the thread before snipping it off. He tucked the needle and spools of thread into their case before stopping.

"Hi, Burt. Is the car ready or is your mechanic going to need more time?"

"Let's ask him."

As the footsteps approached Kurt tried to get into a position where he could see their owners as opposed to the odd sprawl he was currently in, wedged between the seats and halfway out the open door.

"Kurt? Is that you? I told Mike I thought I smelled you before, but he said I was imagining things."

Beaming, the previously-scented hybrid maneuvered his way out of the car and hugged his friend.

"You two know each other?" Human and hybrid questioned Kurt in near-unison.

Kurt laughed at them both, replying to Burt first. "Tina used to sneak me pizza when the manager wasn't looking." And then to his friend. "Burt caught me sleeping under his front porch and took me in."

"Aww, that's sweet. I always knew he was good people."

"So were you. I would have starved some days if it weren't for you."

Tina returned her friend's hug. "It was nothing, Kurt."

"It was everything for someone who had nothing."

"Kurt..." She smiled sadly at the young man before turning a bright smile onto the older mechanic. "I wouldn't have had a car if it wasn't for Burt...and apparently you."

Kurt shrugged the compliment off. "I do what I can to be useful."

"You do more than that, Kiddo. Nice work on the upholstery. What do you think, Tina?"

"I think you'd never know two boys were fighting over who got the biggest McDouble and most fries from the McDonald's drive thru."

"From the stories Carole has told, it sounds just like Finn and his friends when she'd take them out for a treat."

"So having an only child wouldn't have helped?"

Burt shook his head and shrugged. "Nope."

Tina sighed. "Can you build me a giant barrier to separate them?"

Human and hybrids laughed at the shared joke.

Burt gave her a sympathetic shake of his head and leaned on the car. "Do you mind if I take a closer look at your work, Kiddo? It'll give you two some time to catch up."

"I can redo anything that's not right." Kurt grabbed his sewing kit from the back in order to get it out of the way.

Tina peered inside and brushed her hand along the seat's back and bottom cushions. "Kurt, it looks amazing."

"Thanks, Tina, but if it's not perfect, the customers won't pay. It was my idea and his money, so..." He waved his hand in the direction of the office. "Do you want some coffee? Burt buys the good stuff and I made a fresh pot when I got here." Kurt smiled at the laugh of his overheard enthusiasm.

"Sure."

As they walked to the other end of the garage, Kurt put a comforting hand on his friend's arm. "I'm sorry that you lost your job."

"Thanks." Tina poured coffee into a disposable cup and imaged her former boss drowning in it. "The owner was a racist ass. Always cutting my hours, changing my shifts at the last minute, making rude comments about 'my kind.' The guy had six kids from four different women, yet I was the over-breeder for having two while married to the same man."

"Hypocrite. I hope his business goes to shit. The Hummels go to the other pizza place now." Kurt fixed his own cup, adding a generous amount of milk and a dribble of vanilla syrup he'd not so subtly suggested and convinced Burt to buy in order to "make the coffee even better and give the crew a nice sugar buzz."

"In this town? Wishful thinking if you ask me." Tina blew on her coffee to cool it down. "It was rough for awhile, but I have a good job now. It doesn't pay much, but they only hire hybrids and those of us that homeschool can bring our kids there. Have you heard of Millie & Marley's?"

"No. Should I have?" Kurt set down his cup and wiped his hands on a rag tucked into his back pocket. He'd only done upholstery work tonight and yet still he somehow managed to get grease on them.

"They've been trying to get the word out to the hybrid communities. Millie and Marley, I mean. They're a mother and daughter that started the store for those afraid to shop in brick and mortar places or need things that they don't carry. Mostly, it's mail order, but they'll allow you to pick up from their warehouse or do drop offs if you live within a two hour range and pay for gas. Right now most of their business is coming from Ohio, West Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, Tennessee, and parts of Pennsylvania. Orders are coming in from all over all though as word gets around. It's not safe to advertise."

Kurt couldn't help his body's natural instinct to flatten his ears and thrash his tail in barely contained anger. "How could they be safe at all around here?"

Tina sympathized with her friend's situation and tried to make her voice sound as reassuring as possible. "They run out of an old farmhouse about an hour outside of Lima and have a human couple fronting for them - Santana and Brittany's Sensual Skin Care. If you click on their cat's ad for Lord Tubbington's Fondue Master Class, it'll lead you to Millie and Marley's."

"I think I know her, Brittany, I mean. She gives Blaine fish sometimes. Blonde hair, pale skin, tells you that you were a dolphin in a past life?"

"She told me that I was a vampiress, daughter to a great ruler of vampires. Maybe it's because of how I dress?" She tugged at the skirt of her long, black, brocade and lace velvet dress. It was warm and stylish without making her feel old and "momish." "So who's Blaine?"

Kurt pointed to his faded Hummel Tires and Lube T-shirt and tan work pants and then to his ears arched with the same sarcasm as his voice. "Do I look like a dolphin to you? "

"No, you look like someone trying to avoid a question." Tina gave him a sly look noting the flush on her friend's face when she said the name again. "Who's Blaine?"

"Just a friend." Kurt widened his eyes to appear as sincere as possible, but his nervously twitching tail betrayed him.

Tina hummed. "It's okay, Kurt. Your secret is safe with me. I'm glad you're happy."

"Thanks. I am." He changed the subject as quickly as he could. "So what's the website?"

"Let me write it down for you." She silently thanked Kurt when he went to the office and brought her out a piece of paper and a pen. "You won't be able to miss their cat. He's...unique."

"Thanks." Kurt took the note, looked at it, then folded it, and stuck it into a front pocket along with the pen. "I'll check it out and spread the word. Most of the hybrids I know don't have money to spare, or money at all for that matter, but it'd be nice to have some essentials that were made just for us. Humans don't get how evil Velcro is."

"Try having kids. Velco is on everything! Even stuff made just for hybrid babies. I'd like the greedy bastards to try explaining to a crying infant caught in the stuff that it was cheaper to use than a couple of snaps or buttons."

"Humans are idiots." Kurt giggled with embarrassment when he heard a gruff clearing of a throat. "But of course, not all of them are."

Tina laughed, "Of course not. Some are wonderful." She made room for the equally amused human so he could pour his own cup of coffee. "How's my car looking, Burt?"

Burt handed the woman her keys. "You're all good to go. Thanks for letting us work on it. We should be able to offer the service by end of next week."

"Thanks for not charging."

Kurt interrupted the man's reply with a random blurt of his own, holding up his hands and shaking them. "Gloves!"

"What?"

"Put gloves on the kids' hands. That's what my mom said she did with me when I was a baby and then as a toddler when I went through a destructive scratching phase. Two pairs if you have to. They'll learn pretty quick how annoying they are and stop, or at the least will swat at each other and the furniture with less damage."

"That's a brilliant idea, Kurt. I'll try it out the minute they start up again."

"No problem. I hope it works."

Tina tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash bin and gave her friend a long hug. "I have to go, but I'll see you around. I'm glad you're doing better, Kurt. You deserve it."

"You too. Go take the business world by storm."

The woman grimaced. "I fill orders and pack boxes."

Kurt rolled his eyes at her dismissal. "Then take that by storm. And keep the blue streaks in your fur. They look great on you."

"I will. Bye." Tina got into her car and carefully backed out of the shop, after the door was raised for her, offering a quick wave before she left the lot.

Burt waved back and scanned what was visible of the outside, ever protective of the young man standing beside him. "I'm glad that you got to catch up with your friend."

"Me too. She was there for me when..." Kurt wanted to say more, but couldn't bring himself to just yet. It's not as if Burt hadn't heard what he and Tina had talked about. The garage wasn't that big. There was more, of course, but wasn't there always? He shook the thoughts off, poured the last of the coffee into his cup, and began cleaning up the machine so that it would be ready for tomorrow morning's shift.

Burt ran a hand over his head and adjusted his cap, wishing for the millionth time he could offer the boy a hug or simple pat on the back, but knowing that he wasn't there yet and might never be. Words and other deeds were all he had. "You ready to go home, Kiddo?"

"Okay. Can I bring my coffee?"

"Have I ever stopped you before?"

"No."

"Then there's your answer." Burt laughed as he pulled on his coat. The kid was something else.

* * * * * * *

Kurt had barely shut and locked the front door behind him when Carole stepped out of the kitchen and started walking towards them, wiping her hands on a towel. The cuffs of her jean jacket were rolled up as were those of the yellow, long sleeved knit shirt she wore underneath it. Her feet were clad in thick, blue slippers, and a spot of tomato sauce had splattered onto her gray sweatpants. He smiled at the "momness" of it all. It was a comforting familiarness he was enjoying getting used to.

"How'd it go, boys?"

Burt kissed his wife on the cheek before removing his coat. "Kurt did great. Seat looked almost brand new."

Kurt grimaced at the praise. He knew every mistake he'd made and areas he wished he'd gone back to improve. "It wasn't that good."

"That's why I said 'almost'." Burt laughed at his joke, glad that his charge took the teasing well.

"How does spaghetti and meatballs sound for dinner?"

"Sounds great, Honey."

"Kurt?"

"It's fine."

"Just fine or you'd prefer something else?"

The hybrid grinned at the woman's "don't lie to me because I can spot bullshit from a mile away" look. She should patent it. "Meatballs are always fine."

Carole laughed. "I'll remember that."

Kurt walked past her, coat and winter gear already stripped off, and opened the door to the back porch in order to hang them up. "Do you need help cooking?"

"Thank you for offering, but I'm good." Carole joined him in the kitchen and rummaged through the freezer until she found the red, black, and clear plastic bag that she'd been looking for. "I thought you knew my secrets by now. Frozen, pre-cooked meatballs, jarred sauce, and boxed pasta. Dinner in thirty minutes or less. Tricks I learned years ago as a single, working mom that remain useful to this day."

Kurt held up his hands. "You'll get no judgments from me. My mom didn't make much from scratch either. Not that I remember. And then there was the food at the..." He cut himself off and retreated to his room. This was supposed to be a good day. He was reluctant to change back into his new clothes, wishing he could shower first, but still uncomfortable doing so when others were around. Returning to the kitchen, still in his shop clothes, he was pleased to see that Carole hadn't taken offense at his abrupt departure. "If you don't need me, can I use the computer to check out an online store for hybrids that my friend works at?"

Carole finished filling a large pot with water and put it on the stove; turning on the gas burner to start heating the water to a boil. "Of course, Sweetie. Do you remember the password?"

"Buckeyeswin42."

"That's the one. Have at it. You know you can use it anytime as long as you follow the rules." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kurt watching her fill a microwave safe bowl with meatballs. She retrieved another and did the same. The kid was hungry, but too reticent to say so. Mentally, she kicked herself for forgetting to feed him lunch. Finn had always been the opposite, always hungry and always willing to say so. Kurt's quietness was different, but at least he'd become more forthcoming in writing down a few things he'd like to eat, even if they so far only included coffee, cheesecake, and protein bars.

"Thank you." He hoped she understood his reply on multiple levels. He knew she knew he was watching her. He liked that she added more meatballs and opened up two jars of sauce. The meatballs were great without a doubt, but having control over how much sauce went on the pasta was a pleasure he'd never realized he was missing. Now he could have as much as he wanted and it wasn't watered down to the point of tastelessness, barely clinging to overcooked noodles. And there was always an open shaker jar of Parmesan cheese too; again, allowed as much as he wanted. This was the way spaghetti was meant to be eaten.

Kurt pulled his eyes away from the food and walked to the desk in the living room where laptop was already turned on and a tab opened to one of Carole and Burt's YouTube playlists of 1980's music. While he could freely admit that A-ha's "Take On Me" video was cool, some of the couple's other selections were downright cringe-worthy as were the clothes and make-up. While he could probably rock a knit tie, paisley, and black leather, the neon pastels were a crime against fashion. Carole's continued embracement of denim was at least a look that fit in with the rest of modern day Ohio.

He carefully minimized the tab and brought up a new one. Kurt knew the rules by heart. There weren't many and he wasn't about to go on *those* sites. When he'd first been allowed on the Hummel's computer, he'd discovered from Finn's not-so-secret files that he'd been a frequent visitor though, and had saved a bunch of videos and pictures. Apparently, the guy had a fondness for human brunettes in lacy, pink lingerie and other things Kurt wished he had brain bleach to erase. And why there was a file called 'Think of the Mailman,' he absolutely did not want to know.

After loading up Santana and Brittany's Sensual Skin Care's page, he was bombarded by more images that he didn't want to see. There was so much human female skin and so many tongues. Why were there tongues on a skin care site? He was too mortified to be triggered. His past hadn't included things like a video of Santana rubbing Lustful Lavender Oil on Brittany's...he wasn't even going to think the name of that body part...that started to autoplay just as Burt walked by.

"Hey, Bud, I thought we talk about not looking at inappropriate things being one of the rules."

Was dying of embarrassment a thing? Because he was pretty sure that was happening right now. "I wasn't! Not on purpose! I swear!" He fumbled for the piece of paper with the website's address and shoved it into Burt's hand, going back to the computer, and pointing the mouse onto another section of the site. "I'm trying to find the cat. Tina said find the cat and it'll lead to the hybrid site. I swear I didn't know about the other stuff! I don't want to see it either." After discovering that the tab led to pictures of parts he did know the name for, he gave up and clamped his hands over his eyes. This was starting to not be funny.

"Is that it?" Burt tried not to laugh as Kurt opened his fingers just enough to see through a slit in them.

"You try it. I give up." Kurt shut his fingers and began to hum a random tune hoping to drown out any sound should another video start playing. He stopped when his arm was nudged.

"Lord Tubbington's Fondue Master Class. That matches up with what the note says."

"But that's not a cat." The creature pictured next to the link surely had to be a genetic experiment gone wrong because not even mixed race hybrid-humans, nor any cat he'd seen, looked like that.

"Be brave, Kiddo. I'm right here with you."

"Because that makes it less embarrassing." His grumbled sigh turned into one of relief when the real site loaded. It had a simple, easy to navigate layout, and the only videos he'd seen so far were user-choice, G-rated product demonstrations.

"I'll leave you to it, Kurt, and see if Carole needs any help with dinner."

Kurt directed the mouse over to a promising looking link, praying to gods he didn't believe in, that there would only be thumbnail pictures. "You're going to tell her what happened, aren't you?

"Aw, Kid, I wouldn't be a proper parent if I didn't. Come get me if you need help again. What is it kids say these days? If I die, delete my browser history."

"Very funny." He accepted the tease with the fond humor of which it was intended, and focused his full attention on the site. For such a small company, he was amazed at all that was offered - everything from skin and fur care products to clothing and foodstuffs.

Kurt checked out the personal care section first. He longed for the more expensive creams, shampoos, conditioners, and other toiletries, but settled on the cheapest ones. Basic was fine if it meant he could buy a pair of quality boots made for hybrid feet, which was the section he checked out next.

He longed for footwear that was his size and meant for hybrid physiology. No more cramming his feet into human shoes and stuffing them full of paper or rags to fit. Or the same with tossed or purloined hybrid footwear that was always too big or too small. He'd had to go without for months after escaping from the Reformatory and getting attacked, yet again, by Lima's roving hybrid gang. The rich brown, leather boots he chose weren't the most expensive nor cheapest, but they were highly rated. That they'd fit and would compliment his new clothes was the biggest draw.

He looked at grocery section next. The Rooster O's cereal looked promising, though the product description didn't say if they were chicken flavored or not. The deer jerky was locally made, but too expensive to waste money on. If he honestly wanted deer meat, there were ways of getting it within the homeless community. Burt sometimes accepted it in trade as well. This was rural Ohio after all. The cookie varieties looked good though, as did a cookbook entitled, "Cooking for Mixed Families." It promised "dinners and desserts everyone can enjoy, from hybrid to human."

He moved on to the clothing department and immediately added a package of underwear and socks. He would always be more than grateful for the briefs Carole had given him, but these had a fastener at the back and the edge of the cut-out "U" for the tail was edge-stitched for comfort. There wasn't that weird, folding fly in the front that humans had either. He added another package and two packages of socks. Blaine deserved a good day too.

Kurt looked at the total in the cart. It was nearly half of what he'd made working for Burt. More than he wanted to spend, but nothing he couldn't easily justify buying. He had the money. The new clothes from Canada had made him realize how much he missed wearing clothing that was designed for his race.

His one splurge was a happy, yet sad one. It was a bow tie print graphic tee that reminded him of one he'd gotten for his fifth birthday. He'd always wanted a bow tie, but of course they didn't have the money to spare. So his mom had a taken a black marker and carefully drawn him one on a plain white T-shirt, then added little buttons to the front. "Now you can be a proper young gentleman during our tea parties, my sweet Kurt."

Kurt turned back to the grocery section and added a box of tea and tin of hybrid safe cookies. "In honor of you, Mom." He wiped away his tears and looked at the total in his cart. It was higher than before, but he felt his mom would have approved. Smiling, he retrieved enough money from one of the hiding places in his room, glad it was enough so that he wouldn't have to venture out into the cold for more from another spot.

Burt looked up from the TV to see Kurt with the money in his hand, "You ready, Kiddo?"

"If you wouldn't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I did. You don't have a credit or bank card. I do. It's your money fair and square, to do with as you please. Why don't you go change and get ready for dinner while I take care of it."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem, Bud."

Burt pulled the credit card out of his wallet before sitting down at the computer. The shopping cart's total wasn't much, not nearly enough given what this kid really needed, but it was a lot of money for someone who had previously had none. He noticed the Suggested for You items as well as the Wish List Kurt had set up. If the kid secretly longed for higher quality skin and fur care products, he was going to get them, along with extra undergarments and hybrid specific foodstuffs. The new items nearly doubled the total, but it didn't matter. The kid was going to get what he deserved, not just what he needed. As for the money he'd been handed, it was going into a secret savings account. One day Kurt would be off on his own again and need it. No way was he going to make the boy pay for things he'd freely given to Finn. Kurt was like a second son to him now and had been for awhile. A pair of boots, some jars of fancy cream, and a handful of new clothes wasn't going break the bank and was the least he could do. He and Carole could never replace his mom, but they could give him a home and a family again.

* * * * * * *

Blaine arrived just as dinner was being served, softly knocking at the back door. It was Kurt who heard it first and let him in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You're just in time for dinner."

"Oh, I didn't know you were eating. I can leave." Blaine began to re-button his coat and turned back to the door that led to the porch.

Carole would have none of it. "Sweetie, you know you're always welcome. There's more than enough. Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?"

"I love meatballs!"

Carole laughed. "You and Kurt both. Go have a seat in the living room, and I'll get you a plate."

"That's okay. I can get my own."

"And you'll take too little swearing it's enough. I already raised one teenager, Blaine. You and Kurt will never fool me. A parent knows when their kids are hungry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Humm...Carole."

"You're welcome."

Blaine left to join his boyfriend, immediately noticing his new outfit. Kurt put his plate down and preened, spinning to show off every side, describing every detail. Even though he rushed to his room to retrieve his second set of finery, he stopped short of a full fashion show. The smirk on Blaine's face was enough to express the thoughts between the two of them - a more thorough inspection of the clothes and how well they fit on Kurt's body would come later when they were in private.

For once, Kurt ate as neatly as his boyfriend, not wanting to spill a drop on his clothes and using a dishtowel as a bib. Normally, he was a "shove it in quickly before anyone could steal it" kind of guy, though he was trying to break himself of the habit now that he was in safer company and food more readily available. He stopped just barely at the point of fullness, begging off wanting seconds, and giving his remainder to Blaine who needed it more. While he may be guarded around his food, he couldn't stand to see his boyfriend suffer.

Carole, having a rare night off, got to choose the programs they watched. The first was a forgettable comedy that everyone seemed to ignore while eating and chatting about their days. She and Burt exchanged heartfelt smiles, proud of the progress Kurt had made. After three weeks of standing in the doorway watching TV with them, Kurt was on the couch. The edge closest to the kitchen, but still actually on it, curled up with his boyfriend. Only on occasion did he glance around furtively, checking for danger and the best way to escape should it appear. Burt continued to give the boy his space, relaxing in his favorite recliner. Carole tested the brief closeness she'd shared with him today, asking, and receiving permission, to sit on the other end of the couch. They were slowly becoming a family, same as when she and Finn had moved in with Burt. Now it included a beautiful, broken boy, who needed a new one, of which she was more than willing to provide if for. Raising kids was much more gratifying than feeding a stray cat, even if she had to stop herself from teasingly calling Kurt Mister Fluffy Pants from time to time. His loathing of that cat was understandable, if not at times amusing.

The second program they watched was a reality show that seemed to be a cross between The Real Housewives and Survivor. She exchanged secret laughs with her husband at the boys' incredulous faces and snide remarks.

"What kind of idiots did they sign on for this show? That's not how you catch lunch. They're too loud and their aim is clumsy. You need stealth, patience, and a quick blow."

Blaine readily agreed with his boyfriend. "Hope they like eating tree bark because that's all they're going to catch at this rate."

"I've told you a hundred times, Blaine. Humans are id...not as skilled as hybrids at instinctual survival skills." Kurt took another bite of his spaghetti, pointedly not looking at his human benefactors' reaction to his faux pas. He was relieved when there was a costume change after the commercial. "I wore a drab olive and orange jumpsuit most of my life. Trust me, Honey, orange is not the new black, no matter your race."

Blaine chose a different outfit to sneer at, "I always thought Dalton's blazers should be red with blue piping. How wrong I was. That is not a good look."

Kurt's ears flattened against his head and his tail slashed with fury. "Hybrid stripes! Racist much? I wouldn't wear a pelt of hairless tan skin."

Blaine squinted at the TV. "I think that's from an animal a cameraman caught on the island."

Still not placated, the hybrid growled low in his throat. "It better be."

Blaine tried to lighten his boyfriend's mood, pointing out a couple that had just appeared on screen. The heat of the tropical setting seemed to be affecting the inhabitants' sense of decency in more ways than one. A balding man that couldn't have been more than thirty opted for a coconut shell codpiece as his only form of clothing. A choice the censors were having trouble blurring out. Blaine swore he'd seen more nuttage in the past half hour than a squirrel...and he was gay and had a boyfriend. The woman he was with hadn't done any better. The reverse Dalton blazer was bad enough as it was, but cut up and used as a loin cloth with the matching tie not covering her breasts in the least. This was surely going to scar him for life because worst of all, she looked a lot like his mom. "Those two fight just like my parents. Five bucks says she wins."

"You don't have five bucks, Blaine." He tried not to stare at the atrocities before him, but couldn't help himself. At least it wasn't as bad as what he'd seen earlier on the computer.

"Figurative money."

With a lilting tone, Kurt teased a retort as the scene ended. "Shouldn't have said that because I do and the guy won."

Blaine turned to question his partner's viewing comprehension skills. "No, he didn't. Her girlfriend broke up the fight. We both lose."

Kurt patted his boyfriend's arm and shook his head in woeful dismay. "I think everyone watching this show looses, Honey."

The rest of the evening was the spent in much the same way of mindless TV and snarky commiseration at the letdown television programs had become, even if they did secretly enjoy them.  That was until the news came on featuring a story about a group of hybrid rights activists being attacked by Pure Race Nationalists while the police stood idly by. Blaine's eyes grew wide with fear while Kurt tensed with barely constrained anger. That this was just the latest of incalculable injustices being made against hybrids was upsetting to all and unfair to the two boys and the millions like them.

Burt reached for the remote and turned the TV off. 'You know, I think it's time for bed. Blaine, you're welcome to stay in Kurt's room. Just, you boys be careful. Nothing too enthusiastic. Air mattresses aren't cheap and I'd hate for it to burst." The boys mortally embarrassed, blushing faces and stammered replies as they scrambled out of the room was just the reaction he'd hoped for in order to lighten the mood. He could hear Carole stifling a laugh behind her cup of tea. Some days parenting was easy and embarrassing your kids was one of the perks.

* * * * * * *

Kurt and Blaine snuggled under the covers, fully clothed, and too aware of every sound coming from the main part of the house to do more than a little light kissing before settling in to sleep. Kurt pulled his boyfriend in closer, his left arm and tail wrapped firmly around him. The room was lit in spots from moonlight peeking in through the edges of the curtains.

---------------------

Kurt took a deep breath and began walking across the snow, each step a soft crunch as it broke through the ice. It wasn't long before he arrived at the back door. Sticking his hand into his coat pocket, he pulled out a key. It was time.

He fumbled getting the key into the lock. The gloves he was wearing were too big. His hands too cold. His body shaking from the momentousness of it all. He could do this. He had to do this and not just as a means to surviving the night.

The key turned and the tumblers of the lock fell back, releasing their grip.

Hand on door knob, he turned it to the right.

He pushed. The door creaked open.

Deep breath. One step. Another. And he was through the door. He didn't let it close behind him.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that the room was cold. He was expecting warmth. He laughed. A whole two seconds inside a house after two years on the streets and he was already taking electricity for granted. With the power out, of course the portable heater wouldn't work.

He took in the solid realness of it all. Curtain covered windows were framed by pale blue walls. At least he thought they were blue. It was hard to see in this level of darkness. Shapes and outlines of a bench, boots and coat still wet from the snow, an old bicycle, and some boxes.

Then there were the things obviously left out, with care, for him. An inflatable mattress had been tucked into a cleared out corner at the back of the narrow room. It had been made up with sheets, a pillow, and layers of quilts. Upon this lay a change of clothes, thick sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and thermal undergarments. There was even an unopened package of socks. On the bench, the closest object to the door, were a few folded blankets, a box of protein bars, some Rubbermaid containers filled with, he assumed, the beef stew Carol had made, and a thermos. Everything he would need to get through the night whether inside or out.

Kurt looked to the right, at the wooden door that led into the rest of the house. It was closed and there was no light shining through the small panes of glass that formed a decorative diamond pattern in the center. Only silence came from the behind it. He didn't know if it was locked or even if it could be. Didn't know if he should find something to press against it to keep anyone from coming in. Then again, they could always come in through the back door. He wasn't the only one with a key.

He had made his choice. It was time to trust. He stepped fully inside the room and closed the back door.

Kurt took off his coat, boots, and outer layer of pants. Shook the snow from his hat and gloves, then put them back on. Opened the package of socks and indulged himself in the softness of a fresh, dry pair. Gently, he lay the other new clothing aside. Another deep breath, and he pulled the covers back and laid down upon the mattress, pulling them over himself, curling into a ball of grateful nervousness. He could do this.

It took time to calm the whirling of his thoughts, but eventually sleep overcame them. He dreamed of snow. He dreamed of snow and a rushing waterfall covering an icy outcropping in a silent forest. With a start, he woke. Fuck. He had to pee.

With a groan he left the cocoon. Unfamiliar and a bit scary or not, it was warm from the heat of his body and outside was cold and snow. He shoved his feet into his boots, pulled on his coat, and opened the door. The drifts of "nature's frigid, powdery glistenings," or whatever the author, Miss Perky, had called them, were too high for him to make his way behind the garage, so he chose a spot the furthest away from his shelter. Jackass Charlie's fence hadn't seen some karma in awhile. Peeing outside had never sucked so much before. Neither had doing the other thing his body decided it needed to do. Because having your dick fall off in the middle of a snowstorm wasn't enough, now his bare ass was going to as well. Fuck he was cold. No way could Noah and Lauren have had sex in the snow. And why was he even thinking about them right now?

Finally empty and cleaned off as best he could, he trudged back to the house, passing his shelter along the way. It was completely covered, only the raised seat back of the converted bench could be seen. Gods, he would have died if he had stayed in there. He brushed the snow off the other storage bench and retrieved some of his gear. If he was going to accept the back porch as his new home, even a temporary one, it'd be nice to have a few things with him. Burt and Carole had gone to all that trouble to get them for him anyway and he hadn't read last year's fall issue of Vogue yet.

"Whatever it takes to convince yourself, Kurt." The whisper sounded loud to his ears. The world was still as dark and silent as before. Not even the snow plows were up yet.

It was easier to open the door this time. Not super easy, but it was another start. As before, he removed his coat and boots, brushed off the snow clinging to everywhere else, and climbed back into bed. This time, sleep came easier.

* * * * * * *

"Don't forget to leave him a note."

"I'm writing it, Carole. You sure you have to go into work today?"

"Emergency services never close. You know that, Dear. As if you were going to stay home. I know you, Burt."

"What? And miss out on the income those drivers stupid enough to be on the road last night will bring me?"

"Pot meet kettle."

Burt laughed at his wife and finished the note. At first unsure where to leave it, in the end he decided to tape it to the window in the door. Hopefully, the kid would see it when he woke up.

* * * * * * *

Kurt waited until the voices stopped, the front door closed, and he heard Burt's truck drive away. Only then did climb out of bed and walk to the door that separated the back porch and interior of the house. Unable to make out all of the words on the note, he opened the door and looked inside.

It was a kitchen, white and pale gray, clean lines, yet warm and inviting none-the-less. It was a kitchen that was used and lived in, not the picture perfect staged ones he'd seen in magazines. Light was shining through a window. The storm had eased and he could hear the scraping of snow plows a few blocks away.

Kurt took the note off the door, the back of it was an old To Do list with some tasks only partially crossed off. He didn't like cleaning gutters and dejunking garages either. The writing directed at him was a printed scrawl of firm lines.

"Morning, Kiddo. Carole and I will be at work most of the day. The power came back on and the food in the fridge seems to have survived. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Watch some TV. Wash your clothes. Take a shower. Snoop. Whatever you need to do. If you leave, be sure to lock the doors, but I'm sure you knew that already. If you need us, just call. Glad you got to sleep out of the storm. Take care, Kurt. ~ Burt."

Kurt's stomach rumbled at the idea of food, but it could wait. There was something else which took priority. Cautiously, he checked the rest of the house, peered out each window, through the front door's peephole, even those in the basement. He made sure each was shut and locked and noted which could be opened quickly should he need to run.

It was only then did he allow himself to get breakfast, heating up the stew Carole had left for him on the stove after giving up trying to work the microwave. As he ate, he took a slower walk around the house, noting the decorations on the walls, the framed family pictures, the DVD case left out on the coffee table along with a couple of books and magazines. He snooped in the bedrooms, checking drawers, under clothing and behind boxes in the closets, hoping he wouldn't find signs of hidden perversions and relieved when he didn't. He smiled at Burt's flannel shirt collection. The man did love his grid patterns in soft, durable fabrics. His collection of sports' team shirts and caps was nearly as large. Carole's wardrobe suited her personality and lifestyle. It reminded him of his mom. The prints on her scrubs made him smile. Her patients were lucky to have her. He didn't stay long in Finn's room. For a guy who complained about hybrids' need to mark their territory, his own space reeked of unwashed teenage boy who used too much Axe body spray.

Before his mind could finally be put at ease, he rechecked the basement. There were no secret rooms, no chains, no restraints, no horrors he'd seen on the crime show that had been popular viewing at the Reformatory. As if the hell they lived wasn't traumatic enough.

Finally a bit more at ease, he did another thing he'd be longing to do his entire life. He took a shower, door locked and in complete privacy. The medicated shampoos and powder Burt had given him were working. Sleeping outside couldn't prevent everything, but the majority of the pests were gone along with the itching. He shampooed twice, enjoying the warmth of the water. Hot water was a luxury he never expected to have. Being able to use as much as wanted, for as long as he wanted, to scrub and rinse and scrub and rinse again until he was thoroughly clean was heaven. And after that, soft towels that didn't smell of cigarette smoke, spunk, and too much bleach.

He dressed in the clean clothing that had been left on his bed. It was cold, the enclosed porch not without its drafts. The long underwear felt a bit weird with its buttoned butt flap and too-large fly, but he wasn't going to complain.

Kurt then engaged in another fantasy. He washed all of his clothing, including his coat, in the washing machine. It took a couple of loads, but he didn't mind when it meant getting to use proper detergents and a basin that wasn't a dirty recycling bin or K-Mart bathroom sink. He was thankful that Carole used unscented products. He wanted to smell like himself, not April fresh or whatever the hell an amber blossom was. He dried his clothing too and this time not on top of gnat infested abandoned lots or in a garage that reeked of mice and weed killer.

For good measure, he washed the bedding he'd slept on last night too. That load was still running when Burt and Carole came home. He jumped off the couch at the sound of the door opening and turned to face them, his eyes darting around to the two nearest exits, worried that he'd over stepped his bounds by using so much water or lounging on their couch.

"Hi, Sweetie, did you have a good day?" Carole smiled as she hung up her coat and set down her bag.

"Hey, Bud. You okay?"

Kurt didn't know how to answer. This was too much.

Burt tried again. "We brought home pizza. Don't know what is it about a snow storm, but I always want pizza after it. I got it from the place that welcomes hybrids, not that other one. Are you hungry?"

Kurt nodded. This he knew the answer to.

Outer space could see how tense the kid was, so Burt tried his best to ease his fears. "I'm going to walk by you and put the pizza on the kitchen table. Is that okay?"

Kurt nodded again, ever watchful of Burt's movements. The washing machine beeped, telling all its cycle had ended, and he jumped.

"Oh, good, you were you able to use the washing machine. I told Burt he should write the instructions down in case you wanted to. It took me days to figure out the damn thing and that was with the manual."

Kurt turned to Carole, ears back, and worry clear on his face. "So, it was okay that I did?"

"Why wouldn't it be, Honey?"

His mind was whirling with a dozen reasons that he wasn't sure they'd understand. "Can I go dry it? It's the last load. Promise."

"Of course. Do you want help?"

"No, thank you." He hurried away, eyes on the couple as long he could, until he had to turn around to get the blankets moved over. He was glad he'd already moved his cleaned clothing to the back porch. He'd have access to his coat in case he had to run.

Burt opened up the pizza boxes and held in his sigh. The kid had taken so many steps already, but he still shouldn't have been afraid about washing his clothes. Steps. Little steps. And today had been filled with huge ones. There was no way everything was instantly going to be smooth and easy, let alone normal.

Carol retrieved a stack of paper plates and napkins. "Help yourself to as much as you want, Kurt. There's pepperoni and supreme in case you wanted some vegetables with your meat."

"Thank you."

When the kid still hadn't made a move to get his food, Burt tried again. "Carole and I usually eat in the living room and watch TV. You're welcome to join us or eat in the kitchen or on the back porch or wherever you'd feel safe. We're glad you came inside, Kurt. You do what you feel you're up to, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you." Ever-vigilant, Kurt took a slice of each and retreated to the door that lead to the back porch. It was a comprise. He had a way to escape, while also showing Burt and Carole that he was trying his best to trust them, to get used to all of this newness. He had never expected to do more than sleep on the back porch. He had done so much more today and now in their direct presence, it was overwhelming.

He took a bite of the pizza. It was hot and cheesy and so damn good; his panic slipping with each bite. Then further when he was encouraged to take more. He stepped closer to the living room, still in the kitchen, but now able to see the TV and the couple bantering back and forth about the commercials that had come on during the show they were watching.

"I don't understand fabric softener scents, Carole. What the hell is Apple Mango Tango supposed to smell like - people dancing over an overturned fruit cart? Or Floral Fusion. 'The scent features several different flower scents. Which ones? We're not sure. Someone knocked a bunch of them into a vat and we're running with it.' Ted in Marketing must have been drunk that day."

Kurt silently laughed along with Carole. It would be really nice to have this in his life.