#length: multichapter

When Kurt was being helped back into his shirt after a bandage change, Cooper had made the mistake of excitedly asking him if he'd been in a gang. With a string of curses and a deadly glare, Kurt had stormed off to the back porch, grabbing the party leftovers from the fridge and a box of cereal along the way, refusing to come out for the rest of the day.

There had been a few good things to come out of his brother's visit. For one, he now had a bank account set up in his name with a $2,000 balance. "It's not much, but I promise to deposit more when I get the chance. I swear, I never touched your trust fund, Blaine." Cooper had also started looking into seeing if there was a way of gaining legal guardianship of him. Having him declared as an emancipated minor was another option the two had discussed.

As for the clothes Cooper had bought him, Carole had promised to return the majority and purchase garments he actually wanted to wear and in the correct sizes.

Before Cooper left for the airport, he signed a few of the headshots he'd brought with him. Much to Kurt's embarrassment and Carole's delight, he personalized one for each of them. The rest he left generic with the advice of "You could get a good price for those on eBay once my face becomes recognizable worldwide. I gave one to the clinic to use for a fundraiser. Doctor Jones was more than thankful."

Blaine felt a piece of him die inside with that announcement. If he had been mobile, he would have seen his brother to the door himself and deadbolted it behind him. Instead, he was left with the too vivid image that his doctor had seen both him and his brother naked. He really hated Cooper some days.

* * * * * * *

Blaine awoke from a very pleasant dream and snuggled closer to his boyfriend. The early morning light shining through the windows allowed him to see that he wasn't the only one awake and having happy thoughts. He let out a content sigh as Kurt began to stroke him over his pajama pants; his erection growing larger with each touch. "I thought Cooper would never leave. Now we can finally have sex again. Where are the condoms and lube?"

Kurt let out a low moan as his own dick was stroked to full hardness. Trying not to break contact, he shifted so he could capture his boyfriend's mouth in a heated kiss. "I don't know. Everything got moved around thanks to fucking Finn."

Blaine deepened the kiss and moved down Kurt's neck, thankful that his boyfriend's shirt was already unbuttoned and exposing his chest. "I don't want to think about fucking Finn. I want to think about and enjoy you fucking me."

Kurt gasped as attention was lavished on his nipples and alternated between returning the favor and stroking Blaine's cock. "Maybe they're in our room. I'll go up and check."

"You're not going up any stairs, Kurt. I told you how important it was not to put any weight on your hip."

Startled by the sound of his mom's voice, Kurt removed his hand from Blaine's dick. His own quickly deflating, turned into a cockblocked and no longer a happy and turgid manhood. "What are you doing awake?"

"Getting ready for work and apparently giving you boys another Talk."

Kurt tugged at the blankets so that they laid more securely over his and Blaine's bodies. He alternated between glaring at them and the woman standing only two feet away. "I can't believe this is happening again. I know how sex works!"

Carole crossed her arms and let out her own sigh of frustration. "Then you should know that you can use your hands and mouths to stimulate each other. It would be best if you boys refrained from any kind of anal sex for now, both bottoming and topping. Blaine, you need to be careful regarding your spinal nerves. You don't want to stall the healing progress of your tail. Kurt, with the hairline fracture to your hip and your damaged ITB and hamstring, even vigorous grinding could cause further damage. And be careful with your elbow too. I know you like having it out of the sling, but it needs to stay in it as much as possible or you'll make it worse. I'll buy you two some supplies when I go to the store. Do you have a condom and lubricant preference?"

"I'm going to die now. I am literally going to die."

"If your Dad and I haven't from overhearing you two go at it, Kurt, then I'm sure you won't by listening to me tell you to take it easy for awhile."

"The condoms and lubes Doctor Jones and Burt gave us have worked great."

"Thank you, Blaine. If you need anything else, make a list and text me." Carole started to head to the kitchen to make coffee but turned back. "Burt will be up in an hour and Sam will be by later to help you two out. I'm sure you can squeeze in some private time between then. There's lotion and tissues on your nightstand. It should do for now." She tried not to laugh at their muttered groans and cursing. The warnings were real though whether they liked them or not, and she would have The Talk a hundred more times if that's what it took to drive the point home. For now, the mom in her was going to have a bit of a laugh along with her morning coffee and bagel.

* * * * * * *

Carole let out a small cheer when she saw the pile of boxes stacked in the hallway. "Boys? The packages arrived?"

Blaine was the first to answer. "Sam moved them inside. Don't worry, he wouldn't let us touch them."

"What did you get?"

"Something that I should have weeks ago, but they were on backorder. Plenty of human ones available, but goodness forbid anyone local stock hybrid care items. I am so sorry. I really did try." Carole finished hanging up her coat and carried the largest box into the living room. With a pen from the pocket of her nursing scrubs she opened it and pulled out the contents. "Ta da! Folding beside commodes! One for each of you."

"Because having to use bedpans and urinals in the middle of the living room isn't embarrassing enough?"

Carole met her son dry sarcastic tone for dry sarcastic tone. "They're to keep both of you off of your injured legs. Don't tell me you actually thought we didn't know that you keep using the downstairs bathroom?"

"Not every time."

At least Blaine had the good sense to look guilty when he answered her. Her son just tried to cross his arms more which was hard to do given that both were in slings. A miracle which only Sam could have convinced him to do. Or maybe Burt had come home for lunch and bribed him with coffee.

She went back into the hallway and retrieved the other boxes, opening them with just as much enthusiasm. "I should have bought these earlier for you boys too, especially you, Blaine given your casts. You need them now too, Kurt."

"Please say they're gourmet cookies and coffee."

Carole removed the items their plastic packaging and held the first item up with a smile. "Back flap pajama pants! There's no need to stand up or move around much. You just slide on the legs, wrap the back flap panels over your buttocks and secure them to the waistband with the Velcro tabs. There's a Velcro closure on the front waistband above the fly too for easier urination. No more reaching around your backs trying to get to the snaps of your pants and underwear. Blaine, the back flaps should better accommodate the sling for your tail. If you don't want to wear the pants though, I also bought long nightshirts." Carole held up another one of the garments. This one in the same deep blue that matched the pants. The lower back is split so it opens up for easier toiletry needs while the front length retains much better modestly than the medical gowns you had to wear at the clinic. If the back is too cumbersome for you, then I can just sew it up out of the way. Won't take more than a few stitches."

"Wow! These look incredible. Thank you, Carole. It's very kind of you."

"You're welcome, Sweetie. Kurt, what about you?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. At least the color didn't suck and the fabric didn't appear to be see-through. "Velcro is evil, but I'll try them."

"Great! Let me throw them in the wash and they'll be ready for tonight. I can set up the toilets now if you need to go."

"I'm fine." That, he wasn't ready for. The model on the box demonstrating the device was only happy because she was being paid to be. He wasn't.

"Me too. Sam took care of us right before he left." Unlike Kurt, he was looking forward to trying out the new toilets. Even with the walking cast, it hurt to walk to the bathroom and bedpans were awkward and gross.

"That's nice to hear, Blaine. I'm glad he's working out. Who wants dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm starving! How does some nice fish, rice, and vegetables sound? Or I can make liver and eggs."

Kurt was losing track of how many times he'd side-eyed his mom in the past half hour. "We've been eating a lot of that since we got back. It's beyond suspicious."

"Trying to boost your levels, Kurt. You've been malnourished for so long that it's inferring with your ability to heal and has probably affected your growth as well. You too, Blaine. I know you weren't without for as long as Kurt, but a year can still make a difference."

Blaine adored Carole, but this time her words made him a bit uncomfortable. "Was that a comment about my height?"

Kurt leaned his head on his boyfriend's shoulder and gave him an adoring smile. "I've told you, Blaine, you're only two inches shorter than me and you're perfectly average given your mixed race heritage. Stop letting your brother make you think you're short. You're not. You're perfect sized."

Carole smiled at the gentle kiss her son exchanged with his boyfriend. She was glad they had each other. However, she was also exhausted after a long day at the hospital. Tomorrow would be a double shift, given that she had volunteer hours at the clinic. All she wanted at the moment was to get their care done so she could finally have some time to herself and rest. "Boys, did you decide on dinner? Blaine, I think it's your turn to choose."

"The fish sounds lovely, thank you."

"Perfect. Let me change out of my scrubs and I'll get it started."

* * * * * * *

Having to pee at 4 o'clock in the morning wasn't fair. Everyone was asleep except for him and his stupid bladder. Even his boyfriend was asleep. Asleep and adorable in his nightshirt that had bunched upwards, and nothing else, ready for morning blowjobs or some light groping. That had been the plan for them both, but he hadn't been able to get away with no pants for himself. His parents had looked so eager, so hopeful that they'd finally found and bought adaptive clothing, that he'd agreed to the full set. At least the color of the brushed jersey knit was nice. He was getting really tired of red plaid flannel.

At the increased urging of his bladder, he pushed the blankets off with a sigh and wiggled his way to the edge of the bed close to where his portable toilet was. Both of his arms were in slings, another stupid thing he'd agreed to, but without too much struggle and pain he was able to tug the Velcro straps of his pants free and pull the butt flaps to the front. Knowing he couldn't put much weight on his arms, he tried to restrict his movements to scooting backwards onto the odd chair and only use the side rails as a guide. Too late he realized he hadn't pulled the back of his night shirt apart and it was caught under his butt. He struggled to get it freed and push down the front of his pants at the same time. He really had to go.

That was the last frustrated and sane thought he had as the chair tipped back and sideways and he felt himself falling, catching his leg on the exposed frame of the bed. The ripping sound was his pants, but the blood that was starting to show through them from definitely from his previously uninjured leg. Pain started to bloom along his lower back.

And then if being tangled in a poo chair on the floor wasn't bad enough, hell opened up and his colon forcibly expelled his dinner. It even smelled like the anchovies and sardines his mom had ground up and spread on the codfish. He struggled to get up, struggled to find some way to get purchase on the plastic sheeting that had been had laid down under the chair. Fate wasn't done with him though and the Velcro tab from his pants snagged on his hand, taking a patch of fur with it as he ripped it away.

Then the peeing started and he laid there in a puddle of his own waste, trying not to cry as he cursed, and lying to a worried Blaine that he was fine.

He felt his dad lift him up and carry him to the bathroom where he was placed gently in the tub. As he was undressed and washed clean by his mom he let the tears flow. He was supposed to be safe here. Free from the humiliations he had suffered at the clinic. He was supposed to have some independence. Some control over his own body. He flinched as his genitals were washed clean; soap, warm water, and a washcloth removing the debris and sting of urine. By the time she was done, he couldn't move. He remained limp when he was dried off and wrapped in towels, staring at the titled walls, staring at nothing. He was now just a thing that existed, yet only barely. He couldn't handle being anything else right now.

When at last he was carried back into the living room, he saw the toilet chair had been removed and fresh bedding placed upon the fold out couch. He could only assume he'd tainted it too. As he was tucked in, Blaine pressed up beside him, snuggling close, telling him the same things his parents were. That everything was going to be okay.

He didn't believe them. The world didn't work that way. Not for long. Not for him. It never had.

* * * * * * *

"Am I being stupid, Blaine? All that talk in the clinic about wanting my layers and I'm back to being Naked Guy."

"Do you want to wear your old clothes?"

Kurt turned his head to see the stack of folded clothing on the shelving unit placed behind the couch. His designer outfits from Canada were buried at the bottom as they were the least practical items to wear with his injuries. Currently, they held just as little appeal as the plaids, denim, and sports team themed hand-me-downs. "Not really. Which I know is messed up. All those years I wanted nothing more than to be covered up and never looked at or touched again. And now the thought of wearing clothes? I don't even want to feel myself take them off. I know this isn't the clinic. I know you, Burt, and Carole are different. I just...I don't know what to do."

"I think that you should do whatever makes you feel comfortable. Clearly wearing clothes isn't and having some control over your body is."

"It's only been two days and I'm already freezing my bits off half the time. That's not comfortable."

"Then snuggle with me under the blankets. I'll help keep your bits warm." Blaine raised the blanket that was covering himself and gave his most come-hither smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Seeing your body all the time is a perk. That bird print shirt you wear sometimes though? Total turn on." He increased the size of his grin, enjoying that he was able to make his boyfriend smile.

Kurt laughed at Blaine's tease, but it trailed off, ending on a sigh of admiration. "I don't know how you manage to cope with it all."

"I didn't have it as bad." Blaine lowered the blanket. His offer of covered snuggles rejected for more serious things. They'd had this talk before and would again.

"Blaine, just because you didn't have it for as long doesn't make it worse. Also, you had other traumas I didn't. You're amazing for getting through it at all." Kurt wanted to caress his boyfriend's face and hold him, but with his arms encased in slings and heating pads under his back and hamstring, it was impossible. He had to settle for leaning over and resting his head on his shoulder.

Blaine didn't think he was coping all that well if he was being honest with himself. He just internalized and hid most of his negative feelings. People liked you better if you were cheerful. At least his parents and friends had seemed to. Out loud he replied, "I have you and therapy."

"Remember when we had book therapy?"

"I miss those romance novels." Blaine returned his boyfriend's salacious smirk and kissed him.

Kurt returned the kiss and deepened it, feeling his dick grow and twitch with interest. "I miss the sex we had while reading those novels."

Blaine scooted closer to Kurt, not caring in the least if it dislodged the heating pads on his back and shoulder. This was a far better way to heal, with endorphins and all that. "We should look online and see what we can find. Put some of the money Cooper gave me to good use."

"Miss Pillsbury did say that I should read more and focus on something to look forward to." Kurt arched his back as Blaine kissed his way down his body. There were some great benefits to being naked.

"I very much look forward to blowing you." In-between kisses and caresses, Blaine freed Kurt's left arm from its sling and moaned when he felt his erection being freed from his pants. Maybe Kurt had the right idea all along. Clothes just got in the way.

Kurt felt that his boyfriend had the best ideas and the best dick and the best mouth that needed to get on him right now. "My ship is more than willing."

"Permission to come on board and start swabbing your deck with my lustful desires, Captain?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh no matter how turned on he was at the moment. "This is why I love you."

"I love you too." Blaine sank his mouth over Kurt's erection and all ability to form coherent sentences after that were lost.

* * * * * * *

Miss Pillsbury sat on a kitchen chair that had been placed near Kurt's side of the fold out couch. Home visits weren't her usual routine, but given the extent of her clients' injuries, she had made an exception. Wiping down the chair with a disinfectant wipe and then her hands with sanitizer helped to ease her discomfort. She hated messes and germs. She studied Kurt's body language before deciding to speak. He was completely nude except for a singular blanket pulled up to his waist. His right hand was in a cast and the same arm supported by a sling. His left elbow was wrapped in ACE bandages and also in a sling, similar to how it had been at the clinic. "I see you've covered yourself up. You didn't have to on my account, but I appreciate the courtesy. May I ask why?"

Kurt fidgeted a bit. He hadn't been expecting that question. "You didn't do anything to me. You're just trying to help."

"Burt and Carole informed me that you've been continuously nude in their presence for the past few days. Can you tell me what the difference is between them and me? Have they done something to hurt you? Has either of them touched you in a non-consensual manner? If you need help, Kurt, if you don't feel safe here, there are other families that would take you and Blaine in."

Kurt could feel his eyes grow wide. "What? No! Burt has never touched me inappropriately. He doesn't even look at me there unless I need help with bathroom things and then it's...it's never in a bad way. Same with Carole."

"I'm relieved to hear that. You have my card with my number on it should things change or anyone starts hurting you again. Day or night, Kurt, don't hesitate to call or come by my office if you don't have access to a phone or computer."

"Okay. Thank you." Kurt gave her a small smile. He didn't enjoy his therapy sessions, but he could tell Miss Pillsbury was trying to help. He knew he wasn't exactly an easy case.

"Do you feel up to answering my question? There's no judgment, Kurt. Many people, including teenagers, explore different ways of expressing themselves and figuring out their identities. Others are exploring their sexuality and what it means to be a sexual being in a safe environment. Sometimes it can be a way of achieving a sense of body autonomy and sometimes it can be an act of rebellion. There are many more reasons of course."

"It's not sexual. I mean, when Blaine and I do things it is, but that's different. And I've known for years that I'm gay."

Emma waited patiently, but after minutes had ticked by, she knew she had to try to get Kurt to open up a bit more. "Perhaps you could tell me when this began. Sometimes in highly stressful situations, we act out because the rational part of the brain hasn't kicked in yet. We're aware of our emotions, but can't quite control them."

Kurt thought for a long moment, unsure how to phrase the feelings swirling around in his brain. "It's like I'm on this ride and I can't get off. Every time I think it's over, it goes out of control again. I just want things to go back to normal even though I don't even know what normal is."

"I'm going to take a guess here, but maybe you felt free, not quite as trapped, when you were homeless and before you got injured?"

Kurt snorted. He couldn't help it. "I got injured a lot of times out there."

"Was it like now?"

"No, of course not. When it was really bad, I'd have to hole up somewhere and think I was going to die. Not like it mattered some days. The worst was when I had to do...things...to score pain meds or food, but that was my choice. Right now, I don't have a better place to go. Carole showed me the scans of the hairline fracture in my hip and pictures of what will happen if it gets worse. I'm trapped on this damn bed for the next month until it heals. It's like being back at the clinic. I know there's more to it. At least I think there is, but I can't figure it out. I'm tired and I just want it all to stop."

Emma looked down at the notes she had taken during the previous session. "I know at the clinic you said you didn't blame your parents for what Finn did to you and Blaine, but do you think you might be a little? I know it's not easy for orphans and foster kids to get used to a new home. Sometimes they act out to see how their caregivers will react."

"But I was used to it." Kurt rolled his eyes admitted a more honest truth. "I was getting to used to it. Then everything got messed up. I like Burt and Carole and I don't want to hurt them. I was fine with them at the clinic this weekend and then we got back here and..." Kurt looked around the living room and its new additions. It reminded him too much of his hospital room. All it needed was an IV and a couple of monitors. I'm just tired of not having any control. If I walk around the house, even to the damn bathroom, I get yelled at. Not yelled at, but sternly reminded, is what Burt would probably say. I'm told when to eat, when to do those horrible breathing exercises, when to lay down and get ice packs and heating pads put on my body. Carole even told Blaine and I what we were and weren't allowed to do with each other sexually."

"Was there a medical reason for it?"

"There's always a medical reason for it. For everything. I'm trapped in hospital hell and what do I do when Finn comes back over the summer and we don't get along? Are they going to kick me out because having two sons and another kid is too much trouble?" Kurt gasped, his mouth open wide in shock. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Do you think your nudity is a way of acting out or trying to gain some control? I know it can't be easy for you given where you spent the majority of your childhood."

It was that question and statement that made Kurt realize just how naked and vulnerable he was in this moment in front of a near stranger who could reach out and pull his blanket away. He'd only been out of the clinic for a week and didn't have enough strength to fight back. His heart raced as he remembered times at the Reformatory where he hadn't been able to stop the peeling away of his clothes and the touching and words and smells that would follow. "Come for Daddy, Baby." Carole had offered adult incontinence underwear for nighttime use and he'd freaked out, but she hadn't said that. She wasn't a part of that time.

"Kurt. Kurt. Can you come back to me? I need you to count to ten. I'll help you. One...two..."

He kept his eyes closed, but did as the distant voice requested. He counted to ten slowly and then ten again. When opened his eyes and named the objects around him that he could see and touch and hear. There was a pillow, a chair, a clock that softly ticked, a TV, a window that was part of a house.

When at last Kurt had his breathing under control, he exhaled long and slow. "If I'm already naked, no one can take off my clothes. That's all I know for certain right now. I don't want to think about the other things. This one is hard enough."

Emma wrote a few things down on her notepad, including the observation that Kurt had to started to fluctuate between calling his adoptive parents Mom and Dad and their given names. She wasn't sure if it was a deliberate or unconscious act and unfortunately didn't have enough time to delve into the matter. "That's fine. I brought some pamphlets with me that I think you might find useful. If you have any thoughts or questions, write them down and we can discuss them in our next session. Or if you feel it's an emergency, you can call me. Just remember, feelings don't take a vacation, do they? They work in twenty four hour shifts. And that's okay. Unfortunately, I don't and our time is almost up. Kurt, I'd like to remind you to try and work on what we discussed in our last session. Try and find something that will bring you some joy. Something you can focus on that doesn't involve your injuries."

Kurt took the small stack of pamphlets and watched as Miss Pillsbury walked away. He tried to ignore the therapist beginning her session with Blaine in the kitchen. Sound traveled and he respected his boyfriend's privacy. He should have thought to ask for earbuds so he could play music on the laptop. Maybe next time. His mom was at work and his dad was outside having claimed that it was the perfect weather to start getting the grill and patio ready for barbecuing. It was forty-four degrees in March and there was still snow on the ground from where the plows had piled it up a few days before. He'd spent months sleeping outside in this kind of weather. There was nothing perfect about it.

He looked at the first pamphlet and sighed at the title. Letting It All Hang Out. Is Being a Nudist Right for You? The next one wasn't much better. How to Put the FUN into Being an Orphan. There was very little that was fun about his life and Miss Pillsbury had surely been stretching for alliteration. I’m Too Depressed to Even Open this Pamphlet and The A-B-C's of PTSDhe knew he'd read. Maybe they'd help. The last however pissed him off - Ending It All: Pros & Cons. He wasn't suicidal. He just didn't know how to stop feeling so damn helpless and hopeless all the time.

* * * * * * *

Burt sighed in relief when he heard a car pull into the driveway. He muted the TV show he had only been half paying attention to, got up from his lounge chair, put the remote on his son's nightstand, and met his wife at the front door.

For the past thirty minutes, he had been pretending not to notice Kurt's erection as he laid on the fold out couch, propped up on pillows, pouring over an issue of Vogue, and discussing fashion with a fully clothed Blaine. Kurt had given him the occasional pointed stare from over the top of the magazine, waiting for a reaction, practically daring him to say something. He had pretended not to notice those too. The kid had been refusing to wear a single stitch of clothing for days and the act of rebellion or regaining body autonomy didn't seem to be letting up any time soon. It wasn't the first erection he had sprouted either but was one of the few Kurt had acknowledged instead of pretending didn't exist. Before he had been embarrassed, but now he was clearly defiant. Maybe it was in retaliation for him declaring it was ice pack time the last time it had happened.

At least Kurt didn't touch himself down there except to go the bathroom or scratch the occasional itch. He'd caught the boys making out and groping each other a few times when they thought he was asleep or wouldn't be home yet. That was normal. He didn't remember being that horny as a teenager, but maybe when two guys got together the hormones doubled.

That he could at least understand. He just couldn't fathom what was in a fashion magazine that could evoke such a reaction. He silently asked his wife to join him upstairs and soon they were in the relative privacy of their bedroom.

"Couldn't he, I don't know, put a sock over it or something?"

Carole tried not to laugh at her husband's discomfort. She didn't need to ask what Burt was complaining about. "Erections are normal for boys his age. Anything will set them off. You know that."

"But do we have to see it? It was one thing at the clinic, but in our home?"

"You helped me raise Finn during his teen years."

"Yeah, but he at least kept it to his bedroom and bathroom."

Carole laughed at the memory, "All those long showers and crusty socks. He thought we didn't have a clue."

Burt retrieved a small stack of pamphlets from a nightstand drawer. "I called Miss Pillsbury before the boys' appointment and she gave me some literature for us to read."

Carole took the items offered to her and began to read the tiles one by one. The A-B-C's of PTSD, When You Want to Kill Your Teenager: Do It with Kindness Instead, Hybrids for Humans: We're Not Cats, You Idiot! When she got to the last pamphlet, it was clear this is the one her husband wanted her to see. So Your Child Is a Nudist: How You Can Help When They Let It All Hang Out.

"I haven't read much of it yet. I was too embarrassed. I don't know. Maybe it'll help."

Carole folded back the cover depicting the famous nude sculptures, David and the Venus de Milo, and read the opening page out loud. "Helpful Tips: * Keep the blinds or curtains drawn to avoid attention from unsavory neighbors and passersby * Set up a privacy screen to block the view of the main living areas from delivery persons * If you family enjoys foods such as fried eggs, bananas, hot dogs, and novelty cakes, try not to point out how they resemble breasts and genitalia. * Do not point out perceived flaws or otherwise comment on your child's appearance * Do not call attention to normal biological responses such as flushed skin, hardened nipples, and erections * Do support your child and try to understand that there are many reasons they have decided to go au natural."

Carole paused in her read, "Do you want me to continue?"

Burt took off his Browns cap, rubbed his head, and put it back on. "Is later tonight fine with you? It's a lot to take in and I'm going to need a beer."

Carole patted her husband's arm. "Kurt's probably just acting out. It's a phase. We'll get through this, Burt. He needs us to."

"I know. I know. But he was such a quiet, polite, and scared kid when we took him in. He'd barricade the bathroom door whenever he or Blaine was in there. Would watch every move I made even when he wasn't. Now's he's down there, on the couch, stiff as a flag pole, flopping around for all the world to see, and daring me to say somethin' about it. By the way, we're getting a new couch and burning the sheets when all this is over."

Carole shared a exasperated laugh with Burt. "I can't disagree with you there."

"I think I'm going to start cleaning out the garage, maybe the basement too. Get the yard ready for spring."

"Sounds like a perfect plan. I'll join you. We'll dig out those old walkie talkies Finn had so the boys can call us if they need help. Much better than overhearing things none of us want to on a baby monitor." Carole removed a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt from her bureau, wanting to change out of her scrubs before starting dinner. "So what would you like me to make tonight? Hot dogs? Spaghetti and meatballs? Kielbasa?"

"You are a cruel, cruel woman."

Carole kissed her husband on the cheek, laughing as she darted away to take a shower. They were going to need some levity on top of patience. And definitely more beer and bleach wipes.

* * * * * * *

"Morning, Sam. Before you come in, there's something I need to tell you about. If you're not okay with it, that's fine. I can call one of the guys to run the shop today and stay home." Burt had met the home health aid at the door. It wasn't going to be an easy thing to talk about, but the kid deserved to be warned and given a chance to back out. "Kurt's taken to not wearing any clothes out of protest or frustration or something. Won't even cover himself up with a blanket unless it gets too cold at night."

Sam shrugged the new information off and gave his client's dad a smile. "Don't worry about it. I have no problem with nudity, Mister Hummel. I've been a model, a stripper, and was even in my school's glee club. We health aids pretty much see it all. People are people and the way I figure it, is that we all came into this world the same way. That doesn't change just because we've gotten older."

Burt clapped the young man on the shoulder, expressing his gratitude in one of the few ways he knew how. "I really appreciate that, Sam. Instructions are on the kitchen table along with the boys' medications. Help yourself to anything in the fridge not labeled with their names and call if you need anything. Carole will be home around three."

"I've got this. You have a good day at work."

"Thanks, Kid." Burt zipped up his coat and left with a sigh. It was going to be nice getting back to work. Engines and tires, he understood. Teenagers? Not so much.

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Dude, you've got your hand on the wrong joystick."

Kurt looked down at his lap, a blush rising to his face. He was mortified, but well, it did explain why he had started to enjoy the game a lot more even though he couldn't get his character to move. He repositioned the controller so that it wasn't as close to his dick. It had been a feeble attempt at modesty anyway. He was naked for crying out loud, had been for four days now, two hours of which had been spent with Sam. This wasn't the normal Sam-the-home-heath-aid helping him with personal needs and seeing his bits for a few minutes. This was him, deliberately naked and accidentally starting to jerk himself off in front of someone who wasn't his boyfriend. It was a miracle he wasn't having a panic attack full of flashbacks.

A death toll sounded as a character died on screen. It was Blaine's. Kurt looked over and saw his boyfriend's dropped jaw and lust-filled eyes fixated on his erection. From the tenting of Blaine's lounge pants, Kurt could tell he wasn't the only one now with two joysticks. "Sorry."

Sam kept his eyes on the TV. This wasn't the first time a client had started to masturbate in front of him, but those others were senile and didn't know what they were doing. From the blush on Kurt's face, he didn't seem to realize what he'd been doing either. Personally, he didn't play video games while naked. Not after ruining a controller by accident. People had their needs though and he wasn't going to ruin the guy's good time. "Not a problem. We're playing games to keep the circulation going in your fingers and arms. Whatever works for you is fine. I can go make myself a sandwich if you wanted to finish up."

Kurt inhaled sharply as he comprehended what the guy meant and ignored Blaine's vigorous nodding and bright smile. "No, I'm good. We can keep playing video games. Isn't it close to ice pack time? I sure could use a few on my leg and hip and other places."

"Sure thing." Sam looked at his watch, paused the game, and got up to retrieve the necessary supplies. He liked this gig. Kurt may have been bristly at first, but that was fine. It took awhile for some people to admit they needed help and be okay with accepting it. He liked Kurt's sarcastic sense of humor and he and Blaine had a lot in common. He bet they'd have been great friends if they'd gone to high school together.

* * * * * * *

"Happy Easter!"

Kurt blinked his eyes open, half closing them to block out the brightness of the evil sun shining through the living room windows. Blaine wasn't fairing much better and had made the mistake of trying to rub his eyes with his cast-covered hand. The clock on the wall told him it was definitely too early to be awake for crazy parents wearing bunny ears and too-big smiles. Maybe he was dreaming.

A tray was placed on his lap and on it was a plate with cinnamon rolls formed in what he assumed was supposed to be a bunny's face. It was a very Mom Thing. The cup of coffee was obviously from his dad. Fortunately, there was enough ease in his left sling that he was able to drink his coffee without help. He had a feeling he was going to need a lot of coffee this morning.

"Kurt, look, Easter eggs!"

Kurt looked towards where Blaine was pointing and there were indeed plastic eggs on the bed, on the TV stand, peaking of out between medical supplies. There was even one resting on the arm of Blaine's bedside commode.

Carole held up two plastic, Easter themed buckets. "It's an Easter egg hunt! You boys take turns saying where you see an egg and we'll collect them for you. You don't have to have to move."

"Am I five, Blaine? Is this some weird time loop thing and I'm suddenly five again?"

"I bet you were adorable at five."

"Come on, boys, it'll be fun! There are prizes inside."

He had a vague memory of doing this with his mom once and his new mom looked so eager and happy. It actually did look like fun. He took another sip of his coffee and caved. "The yellow one on the windowsill."

"Ooh, good eye!" Carole went and retrieved the egg, then added it to Kurt's bucket.

"Blaine, you're next." Burt took the other bucket and held it up. He'd thought the idea was a bit juvenile at first, but in the end had agreed with his wife that the kids, particularly Kurt, had probably never had much in the way of holidays. The planning and execution had been kind of fun. He could see the grin Kurt was trying to hide. Blaine was all open smiles and practically bouncing in place.

"The blue one by the X-Box."

"Kurt?"

"This purple one between Blaine and I. How did I not wake up for that?"

"The Easter Bunny has his secret ways."

"The Easter Bunny has been smoking too much of his own grass." Kurt liked that his family laughed at his sarcastic joke and took a bite of his cinnamon roll. Aside from that failed fish night, Carole really did know how to appeal to his stomach.

When all of the eggs were found, the breakfast trays were removed and replaced with the buckets. Kurt was glad he'd slept under the covers last night when his mom sat beside him and helped him open his eggs, the same as his dad was doing for Blaine. His eyes went wide when the first one was opened and he saw a five dollar bill. "There's money inside?"

"We used to do candy, but when Finn got older, he appreciated the money more."

Burt laughed at Kurt's eagerness to open the next one. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Kid. Five is as high as they go and there aren't that many of them."

"I'll take anything! Blaine, what did you get?"

"Fifty cents in the new quarters." Blaine widened his smile and reached for another egg. "This is really nice. My parents never did anything like this. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sweetie."

"A dollar! I'm winning! I'm winning!" Kurt instantly regretted shimming. Broken ribs fucking hurt.

"Ten dollars!"

"No fair. Dad, you said there were only fives."

"I may have run out and wanted to treat the boys, Burt." Carole bit her lip at her confession.

"Hurry up, boys. There's more."

"More? I love the idea of more!"

Burt chuckled at his kid's lit up eyes. This had definitely been worth all the work. It only took about ten minutes for the rest of the eggs to be opened. In the end, Blaine had found $13.25 and Kurt $26.75. "Where do you want me to put your money, boys?"

"In my wallet would be great, thank you. It's in my nightstand drawer."

"Kurt?"

"Sealed in a baggie and then tucked inside my Lou Eyrich shirt."

"Your what?"

"The blue and green one Aunts Anne and Dani gave me."

"Sure thing, Bud." Burt did as asked as his wife put aside the baskets and brought out the next surprise.

Blaine stared at the pastel woven baskets wrapped in cellophane. "Kurt! Kurt! Cookies and white chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps. Oh, I miss those."

"I've never had them before." Kurt turned his basket around peering intently inside before opening it. He was pretty sure there was a stuffed rabbit among all the candy.

"Trust me, you're going to love them! And if you don't, more for me!"

Burt adjusted the cap on his head and prepared himself for the not so fun part. "While you boys get your sugar buzz on, I'm going get your medical stuff ready and Carole's going to start dinner."

Kurt groaned at what "medical stuff" meant. He should have known he wouldn't be able to get out breathing exercises, bandage check, and ice pack time. At least he still had some coffee left to take his Advil with. "I'm fine with eating nothing but sugar. Unless there's Easter cheesecake. Is there cheesecake?"

"Maybe."

Kurt laughed at his mom's muttered, "I knew I forgot something last night. Better make it first."

An hour later, Kurt knew three new things. One, he loved Peeps. Two, he hated jelly beans. And three, his boyfriend had absolutely no flare for dirty Easter jokes.

"Is that a carrot in your basket or are you just really happy to see me?"

Kurt looked down at his exposed bits. At the first mention of medical stuff, he'd kicked off his blanket and was now as naked as...well...the Easter Bunny. "Pretty sure, the bunny is asleep in the grass."

"I want to pet your bunny and wake him up. I want to sit on your lap and hop like an Easter Bunny eager for carrots."

"Blaine!"

"The white chocolate was great, but there's a different rabbit ear I'd rather nibble on."

"Boys, we have ears too. Save it for later."

"I told you they could hear us, Blaine!" Kurt watched as his sleeping rabbit sunk lower into the grass. There would clearly be no chance for it to hop anytime soon. And now he had his boyfriend's bad puns stuck in his head.

"I was funny though, right?"

"Yes, you were funny."

Dinner was honey glazed ham, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, hashbrown casserole, and rolls with butter. Kurt forced himself to take a bite of the meat and smile and nod his head when his mom asked if he liked it. He swallowed it down with half a glass of water and snuck the rest under his plate and napkin. If his parents hadn't been in the room, he'd have given his portion to Blaine. There was just something about the texture that revolted him. It wasn't like the other times when it was eat or starve. There were different foods available and at present, he wasn't homeless. The potatoes, casseroles, and roll had been great and those he finished. Dessert was promised later, once it was set.

After the leftovers had been put away, bathroom needs taken care of, and a half hour of enjoying the soothing warmth of heating pads, it was time to dye Easter eggs. "Just this once" Carole allowed Kurt to walk into the kitchen and seat himself at the table. There was a debate over whether or not Blaine should be wheeled in on the one wheelchair they'd been able to acquire or allowed to walk with help. In the end, they settled for wheeled and then transferred to a chair beside Kurt's in order to be closer to the table.

Honestly, Kurt thought it was too much fuss for an activity until he started the dying process. Then it became a creative adventure and he finally understood the appeal. It was so much fun that his mom boiled the dozen eggs she was reserving for other meals while his dad quipped that they were all going to be eating a lot of egg salad sandwiches that week.

With a happy sigh, he leaned into Blaine's hug as they sat side by side, admiring each other's work and discussing the best pairings of colors. He liked that his parents had joined in too, telling stories of when they had done this as kids and the time a young Finn had drank "yummy green water, Mommy."

When the eggs were put to dry, Kurt headed back to the living room. He heard a muffled laugh and turned around, noticing that each member of his family was staring at his butt. There, in stark blue and green were the fingerprints of his handsy boyfriend. With a roll of his eyes, he turned away from the looks, and continued walking. Secretly, he thought it was as funny as they did. Still, he thanked every god he didn't believe in, that Blaine had some restraint and there didn't seem to be any handprints on his dick.

Later that night, stomach filled with cheesecake, he snuggled under the quilts with his boyfriend and his new stuffed rabbit, Mister Bun Bun. It had been a really good day.

* * * * * * *

After Miss Pillsbury had left, Blaine returned to their shared living room bed and his dad started dinner, Kurt pulled out his stack of new pamphlets. "Ready to compare?"

Blaine held up his own pile of colorful brochures. It was a thing they'd started doing after therapy. A way to relieve stress and shake off the press of heavy feelings the sessions always brought up.

"I got The A-B-C's of PTSD - revised edition and Panic Attacks: The Red Alert in Your Brain. Your turn."

"I have those too. How about, So You're Poor Now, Bastard Child: When Mommy & Daddy Cheat, Why Your Parents Never Loved You, and Dad Loves Him More: When You're Not the Favorite Child."

"Harsh much?" Kurt flattened his ears when flipped to the next one. Hiding Your Nuts: Are You an Anorexic Squirrel? Oh my god, do Carole and Burt tell her everything? I hate ham. I'd rather eat mice than ham."

"If it makes you feel any better, she gave me So You Like Throwing Up: Understanding and Overcoming Bulimia." At Kurt inquisitive look, he continued. "I started having flashbacks to when I had to drink spoiled milk."

"Is that why you've been faking being asleep every time we're given cereal for breakfast?"

Blaine nodded his head and counted to ten as he let out a slow breath.

"It's okay. I've been there. Do you have any funny ones?"

Blaine looked through the rest of his stack. I Can't Stop Touching My Boyfriend and for some reason Radon the Silent Killer."

"That dye is never going to wash off my ass, but I don't mind at all how it got there." Kurt liked that his joke and wink made his boyfriend smile. Mondays were always the roughest. "Proper Wiping: Easy As 1-2-3. And apparently, trying to hide my involuntary erections got me this one - I Can't Stop Touching Myself. Guess it's morning wood for all to see now."

"I love seeing your dick."

"Hence why you got the pamphlet you did."

"You said you didn't mind."

"I don't." Kurt shared a kiss with Blaine before turning back to the pile laying on his very much erection free lap. "Speed round to get the rest over with. Even Jailbirds Sing: Finding Joy During & After Incarceration."

"Overcoming the Bad Touch."

"I got that one too."

"Pushing Buttons: Your Parents Are Not an Elevator."

"Hiding Your Feelings Under a Bushel. That's it for me."

"Me too. Bad reality TV time?" Kurt reached for the remote on his nightstand.

"You read my mind." Blaine snuggled into his boyfriend as best could, wrapping his arm around him, trying to be careful where the weight of the cast fell lest it hurt Kurt's broken ribs. They were both broken in so many places. He was glad he didn't have to go through it all alone.

* * * * * * *

Kurt didn't even try to fight going to the clinic for a check up. He knew it was as inevitable as having to eventually put on clothes. The minute he was in the exam room though, it was sweatpants, hoodie, and shoes off and lying on the bed waiting for the, also inevitable, first person to come and say they needed to touch his body.

The taking of his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse-ox came first, followed by urine and blood tests. His dick was cleaned with an antiseptic wipe before the piss flowed into a cup. At least this time he was allowed to clean and hold it himself. He hated it when a nurse did it for him. The flashbacks were always bad then.

After the samples were taken it was more waiting. More pretending that the doctor wasn't going to come in, touch him all over, move his limbs until they hurt, and then say, "We're going to run some tests now and I'll check on you later." He knew the script by heart. This time, he didn't even have the comfort of Blaine being in the next curtained off exam room or one of his parents sitting by his bedside. Blaine was three spaces down and because his mom hadn't been able to take off of work, his dad was going back and forth between them, trying to be in both places at once.

Eventually, the humiliating and violating examination was done. Doctor Jones had insisted on checking his genitals, not believing until she did so, that the spots of bright red on his abdomen and testicles and blue blotches on his butt were dye from coloring Easter eggs. Being Naked Guy at home definitely had its unexpected downsides.

The orderly that wheeled him down to the X-ray and CAT scan rooms turned out to be Coach Beiste who was volunteering on his day off. The man hadn't minded that he was naked and only said something about "you can't wrap a hog in a blanket and call it a burrito, Pumpkin." He had no idea what that meant, but as the guy was smiling, he assumed it was acceptance of his rebellious act and struggle to maintain a sense of self.

The techs were staff he was familiar with. There was the human male one who always moved him to the point of pain, ignoring the obviously better qualified hybrid female who would tell him to stop and let her do it because hybrid anatomy and range of motion were different. The sexist douche, of course, ignored her. This too had been repeated every time he was here. He had never learned their real names. To him they were Idiot Jackass and Intelligent Jill.

When the tests were done, it was supplement time. Or so they thought. With no one around to force him to drink the can of Boost, he poured the contents bit by bit into every hidden spot he could find. The exam table itself wasn't very absorbent and it was too noticeable when the protective paper cover was wet. However, the stack of cloth medical gowns in the drawer underneath was able to absorb a fair amount. The rest he divided between the crevice behind the storage unit and wall, the sharps disposal box, and under the liner of the trash can. It had hurt his leg and shoulder to move that much, but the payoff of not having to drink liquefied fish shit had been worth it.

He had just fallen asleep when his dad came to check on him and let him know that Blaine was fine. He nodded his thanks and closed his eyes, trying to get back to the dream of where he was in a dewy meadow with Taylor Lautner.

The happy feeling wore off quickly when Doctor Jones returned and said that his left arm would be stuck in the sling for another week. The fall hadn't been good for his elbow, nor his back, nor his damn hip. Additional nutritional supplements also seemed to be in his future. The only good thing was that the cut on his leg was healing well.

Eventually, he was cleared to leave the hellish prison and allowed his dad to help him get dressed and situated in the wheelchair. His dad didn't talk much, nor force him to, only saying that he too hated hospitals and that things would surely look up eventually.

They joined Blaine in the cafeteria that had been returned to its normal state. His boyfriend introduced him to Millie Rose, who had been one of the lunch ladies at Dalton after getting laid off at McKinley and now worked part time at the clinic. He remembered Blaine telling him about the women who would pack up food for the students who wanted to run away. It turned out this Millie was the same one who owned the hybrid store and was just as pleasant and cheerful as her daughter. She encouraged them both to drop by when they were feeling better. Honestly, he could admit that he was tempted. It would be nice to get out of the house and go some place that wasn't depressing and filled with pain. He'd have to meet new people, but maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

* * * * * * *

"Uh, Blaine, Sam's here to see you."

"What? I didn't think we needed him today."

"He's here in a different capacity." Burt rubbed his face and let the young man in. He had a feeling he was going to need a beer and headed to the fridge to get one.

Sam strode into the living room, his tight red suit with a lightning bolt emblem on the chest leaving little to the imagination. He wore a mask covering his eyes, but the wide-mouth grin, blonde hair, and voice were unmistakable. He handed Blaine a box wrapped in superhero themed paper and a bunch of multicolored balloons. He pulled a note card out of an invisible pocket and read it out loud. "Happy seventeenth birthday, Little Bro. I got you a present both you and your boyfriend could enjoy. Cheers! Cooper." Sam hit play on his iPod and began to dance.

Kurt pulled a blanket over his and Blaine's laps as discretely as he could. He'd seen Sam's moves before and had a feeling this was going to be embarrassingly good.

Blaine stared transfixed as Sam rolled his abs and began peeling away parts of his costume. He leaned in close to Kurt and whispered, "Why do I have a sudden urge to write Flash male on male fanfiction?"

"I think that's an excellent idea." Kurt never thought he had a thing for superheroes, but a shirtless one gyrating in front of him had changed his mind.

Blaine's breath hitched as Sam removed his pants with a flourish, revealing skimpy tight red briefs that left nothing to the imagination. This was the best birthday ever!

When the music stopped, so did Sam. He grinned at his audience's pleased faces as he put back on the rest of his costume. "Happy birthday, Blaine. I'm glad you enjoyed it. The superhero theme is a new thing I've been working on for the club gigs."

"It was excellent. Thank you."

"Sorry to cut this short, but I've got to get to class. Do you mind if I change in your bathroom? The professor got mad the last time I showed up in one of my costumes." Happy that the guys agreed, he changed and then waved a cheerful goodbye as he left.

Watching Sam leave and replaying his performance over in his head for the fourth time, Kurt half turned to his boyfriend. "Blaine, you need to have more birthdays."

Just as Blaine was about to agree in pleasurable and enthusiastic ways, Burt walked in.

"Hey, Kid. I didn't know it was your birthday. You should have said something."

"It's fine. I never really celebrated them and last year's was pretty crappy, so I wasn't going to say anything."

"All the more reason to get some happy memories attached to it and erase the bad. Isn't that what Miss Pillsbury says?"

Personally, Blaine didn't think it applied to all cases, but he didn't feel like disagreeing with the man. From the look on Kurt's face, he didn't either. He decided to change the subject by opening up his present. He gasped at what he saw. "My childhood bowties! I thought these were lost forever. And Mister Fluffy, my stuffed dog. Cooper must have found them in the garage."

"Look, there's a note."

Blaine reached into the box and pulled out a folded piece of paper that had been placed on top of an official looking envelope. "'Dear Squirt, seems Mom kept some of your stuff after all. I rescued it from the attic. Hope you like it. Also, you can now call me Dad.' He signed it with a winky face." He shook his head. Cooper was getting weirder by the day. He opened up the envelope and inside were copies of official court documents. "It says here that Coop is now my temporary legal guardian."

"What? How? That fast and without you going to court?"

Blaine read the papers again. They didn't look forged and the signatures and embossed seal seamed real. Satisfied, but still in shock, he carefully folded them back up and returned them to the envelope. "Knowing Cooper, he slept with Judge Judy."

It was hours later before they were left alone. Burt had made a see-through excuse about needing to buy milk and brought home pizza and a store bought cake. Carole arrived shortly thereafter with a gift wrapped white polo shirt and white sweater vest with black and yellow stripes at the collar. Everyone sang Happy Birthday as Blaine blew out the candles on the cake. Then Burt and Carole had apologized profusely for needing to leave for the bowling alley. It was date night and they were meeting up with friends.

Kurt leaned in to Blaine and kissed him deeply. "Finally, I can give you my birthday present."

"And what would that be?" Blaine tried to contain his smile, but failed.

"I want you to ride me like a birthday pony." Kurt blanched as the words replayed in his head. "That didn't sound right, did it?"

"It was a little creepy. I love your idea though. What about your hip?"

"I'll be fine if I'm laying down. What about your tail and leg?"

"Healing just fine." Blaine was glad that Kurt was already naked and hastened to make himself equally so. Kurt may have hated the adaptive clothing, but he had found it useful and easy to get out of. "Condoms and lube?"

Kurt helped his boyfriend remove his clothing and if he happened to feel him up with his hands and mouth in the process, it was so much the better for all of them. He took a breathy pause in order to answer, "Under the pillows."

"You sneaky bastard. God, I love you." With a clumsy hand and the part of his brain not focused on his dick, he managed to retrieve the necessary supplies.

"I love you too." Kurt flipped the cap of the lube open, squeezed some onto his fingers, and started opening Blaine up. It had been too long for both of them.

Blaine moaned with each new touch and returned the pleasures in kind. "This is definitely going to be the best birthday ever!"

* * * * * * *

Burt scooped up a spoonful of his beans and gestured with it towards his son's still full bowl. "Kurt, come on, you've got to eat."

Kurt took a sip of his water and gave a weak smile, trying for a breezy, lighthearted tone. "I'm not hungry."

"I know you are. Breakfast was hours ago and you and Blaine slept through lunch."

"I'm fine."

"Take a bite and I'm sure your stomach will feel different once it's had something in it."

"I can't eat this." Kurt nudged at his bowl and plate, trying to move them away without his dad noticing.

Burt pushed the dinnerware back and added another slice of cornbread to the plate. He wasn't going to let good food go to waste and Blaine was eating it just fine so he knew there was nothing wrong with it. "Miss Pillsbury said it was important to start establishing some normal routines that don't involve medical stuff, so we're having Friday night dinner together in the kitchen away from all of that. I know soup beans 'n cornbread isn't fancy, but your mom is at work and this is one of the few meals I know how to cook. I made sure everything in it was hybrid safe."

Kurt glared at the food and then closed his eyes, unable to stand looking at it any longer and wishing he could shut off his sense of smell too. "I don't like it."

"It's the same recipe I've been givin' you ever since you were livin' in the back yard in that shelter I made you."

"I gave my portions to Blaine." Kurt looked at his boyfriend silently pleading with him not to say anything.

This whole thing was getting ridiculous. The kid had lived off of mice and garbage scraps for almost two years. He was nearly as skinny now as he was when he first became a part of the family and it was affecting his health. "It's this and then a can of Boost. You've got to keep your strength up if you want to get better."

Kurt shook his head and his voice came out as a pleading whisper. "Please don't make me."

It had been a long day and Burt wasn't in the mood to deal with a stubborn kid, who despite his background, was wasting perfectly good food. "Kurt. Eat!"

Kurt jumped at the harsh voice. He fought hard to keep the flood of memories at bay, but they rushed in, leaving him shaking as he spooned bite after bite into his mouth, swallowing in gasps just so he could breathe. It was when the bowl was nearly empty that he felt the bile rush up, bringing with it the contents of his stomach.

Ignoring his dad's and Blaine's offers of help, he pushed away from the table, and limped to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind him. He was covered in puke. Clumps of white beans and mushy cornbread bits clung to his naked body while the liquids dripped down, finding new paths to take against his skin and fur. He struggled out of the slings and bandage wrapped around his elbow.

Opening the door to the cabinet under the sink only revealed toilet paper and not the plastic wrap he needed. Frustrated and trying to keep his swirling emotions to himself, he headed for the kitchen. His dad blocked his way before he'd even gone a few steps.

"You looking for the wrap? Go sit down and I'll bring it to you." It only took minutes before he was back, knocking on the bathroom door before entering. The kid was a shaking wreck and he couldn't figure out why. "I can't help you, Son, unless you talk me. I'm sorry for forcing you to eat. Are you sick or something? You want me to call your mom?"

Kurt shook his head and fought back tears. "Eight years. I can't eat it anymore."

"This is what they fed you at the Reformatory?"

Kurt nodded and tried not to puke again at the remembered tastes and smells. "It was eat it or starve and they'd serve it for days, a week, more. So you didn't have a choice, not really. Half the time it was spoiled and moldy."

"Aww, Kiddo, you have said somethin' earlier."

A sob escaped from his burning throat. "I tried."

"I meant months ago. I thought you were just bein' stubborn tonight and I'm real sorry." Burt sighed, wanting to reach out and comfort his son, but knowing that any touching right now could send him into another panic attack. "How do you want me to help? Want me to wrap up your hand and get the shower or bath runnin' for you?"

Kurt stared at the tub and considered his options. "Shower. I'll use the special chair Mom put in there so I won't have to stand." He looked at his dad and the worry on his face. He wasn't in trouble and wasn't going to be hurt. "Can you stay to help? I don't know how to get my left arm clean without using my right hand and there's puke everywhere. I just want to get clean and go to bed."

"Sure thing, Kurt. Let me tell Blaine what happened so he doesn't try crawling in here. He's sick with worry."

"Sorry."

"I told you, Bud. I'm the one who's sorry. I'll be right back." Burt closed the door behind himself and rubbed his eyes. How many more ways was he going to discover how that place had screwed the kid over? How many more times was he going to fuck up as a parent? He was trying. He'd taken the therapist's advice, reading the pamphlets, letting the kid be naked all the time, and getting him the books he wanted from the public library, but some days he just couldn't get it right. Months ago he'd told Kurt that there were times where it was going to be two steps forward and one step back. That bit of wisdom apparently applied to himself too.

* * * * * * *

Kurt hugged the pillow to his chest and took a deep breath. He hated the breathing exercises, but liked that he was being trusted to do them on his own while his mom helped Blaine take a shower. He hadn't had time alone to himself in days and wanted to think.

Therapy had started with Miss Pillsbury saying, "So, I see you're still naked" and had dissolved from there. When he told her about the soup beans incident, she'd handed him a pamphlet entitled, Putting the Fun Back in Food. There had been nothing fun about the Reformatory and he didn't understand why it wasn't okay to avoid the foods that reminded him of that place.

He brought up his mixed feelings about Easter - loving what Carole and Burt had done for him and Blaine, but being sad because he couldn't remember doing any of those things with his mom. He didn't know if hunting for plastic eggs once was a real memory or one he'd created as he didn't remember anything else about the holiday. He didn't know if it was because they were Jewish or too poor or some other reason. He didn't think they had been religious, but his memories were so blurred from that time, marred by the trauma that had happened when he'd been arrested. Mentioning that had brought on a panic attack which left him trembling and exhausted. Being nude all the time had the disadvantage of reminding him of his branding and the other scars that marked his body.

By the time he'd come down from the panic attack, the session was nearly over. He only had a few minutes to tell her that Finn would be home for the summer in a few weeks. His "homework" was to write down his feelings on that as well as positive actions he could take if he found himself in a disagreement with his new brother. Personally, he felt that his ideas of positive actions would be vastly different than what Miss Pillsbury had in mind.

The timer on his nightstand beeped and he let out the last deep breath. He held on to the pillow and pulled Mister Bun Bun to him. Maybe it was stupid to be his age and clinging to a stuffed toy, but he needed it right now. He needed his mom too, but that dream had died long ago.

* * * * * * *

"Kurt, Blaine, can we see you in the kitchen for a minute?"

Kurt paled at the sound of his dad's voice. There hadn't been time for them to put away the step ladder and make it back to the couch when they heard the back door being unlocked. "Blaine ate your secret stash of cookies, not me!"

Blaine gasped at the betrayal. "Tattletale! It's not like you didn't help."

"I am not going to get in trouble for that one, Blaine. Those cookies taste weird. If you're going to get in trouble for eating someone else's food, then at least go for the snack cakes Mom keeps in the bottom cabinet behind the stew pot." Kurt pursed his lips and picked up one of the empty cellophane tubes that his boyfriend had hidden under the blankets between them. Pale yellow crumbs fell out and as he tried to brush them away, he knew he'd never get them all. Cookie bits were going to end up in some very uncomfortable places.

"If you're telling on me for those, then I'm going to tell on you for eating up all the pepperoni rolls. You didn't even share!"

"No one's in trouble and no one's going to be unless you two keep talking. Just come to the kitchen, Kurt. You too, Blaine."

His mom's voice was too cheerful. She'd worked the early morning shift at the hospital, then a few hours at the clinic, only to come home and quickly go back out to run some errands. No one would be happy after all of that. "Is this a trick? I'm not supposed to be walking, remember?"

"And yet clearly you have been."

Kurt could hear his dad's sigh of exasperation. "For the love of god, Kurt, get your butt in here! Blaine, would you like some help?"

"No, thank you. I can manage."

Wary, but curious, Kurt limped along at Blaine's slower pace, ready to support him should the crutches become too hard or exhausting to use given that they'd just made the same walk a short time before. It was going to be another four weeks before the casts came off his leg and wrist. He thought of some new curses for Finn causing the bones needing to be reset and starting the timer on the healing process back to zero.

As Kurt crossed the threshold of the kitchen, he gasped in surprise at the decorations hanging from every surface. There were balloons, crepe paper, and two banners. One reading, "Welcome Home" and the other, "Welcome to the Family, Kurt." He barely had time to notice the candle-topped cheesecake on the table before he was blinded with the flashes of light from his parents' cell phone cameras. He really hoped they were getting above the waist shots. When he recalled this day later, he was going to pretend he had been wearing pants.

"What's all this?" Stunned, he helped Blaine into a chair, sharing an equally confused look between them.

"Open the box! Open the box!"

Kurt pulled back the flaps of the mailing box, noticing that it came from Canada and had clearly been opened already. He pulled out a thick black, yellow, and white booklet with "University of Waterloo" on it. He pulled out another, this one black, red, and white with "York University" printed on the cover. "You want me to go to college in Canada?"

Carole shrugged. She knew the viewbooks might confuse her son, but she'd forgotten to buy wrapping paper and bringing it up from the basement would have been too obvious. "Only if you want to. It's how your aunts hid your true present. Look in the box again."

Kurt did as asked, this time removing a stack of documents. He stared dumbfounded at the first one. It was a birth certificate. "This says I was born in Toronto. Was I? I always thought I'd been born in Ohio."

"We don't actually know, Son. Keep going."

Still as confused as before, he continued. "Adoption papers where you became my parents when I was fourteen years old. It says I was orphaned at four."

Burt rubbed his head. He regretted that part. "We're sorry for erasing two years of your life with your mom, Bud, but it was easier this way."

"What was?"

"One more, Kurt. Look at what's left in your hand."

Kurt looked at the navy blue item emblazoned with a coat of arms and the words "CANADA" at the top and "PASSPORT PASSEPORT" below. He opened the document and stared at a picture of himself, a headshot where it looked like he was wearing one of the shirts Aunts Anne and Dani had given him. He looked at the name printed beside it. "Kurt Hummel. It says my name is Kurt Hummel."

"We kept your original last name as your middle one. Hope that was okay." Burt adjusted his cap again, not knowing what else to do with his hands. He didn't know who was more nervous, himself or his wife. The decisions and sacrifices they'd had to make to get to this point had been hard. He hoped they'd been worth it.

Kurt stared at the documents and then at the two people who had become his parents. His breaths became quicker with each passing second. He didn't want to get his hopes up, he really didn't, but he needed to know if it was what he wanted it to be. "What does all of this mean?"

Carole rung her hands, excited and worried and hopeful all at the same time. They'd been working for months on this. Her answer came out in a rush. "It means that through some very expensive forgeries, you are now illegally-legally our adopted son and a citizen of Canada. I wouldn't try voting with it and Dani isn't quite sure about getting you on the national health care if you move up there, but it should get you through customs and pass a simple ID check both here in the U.S. and Canada."

"Why Canada?" He didn't have a problem with the country and liked all the stereotypes as much as the next naive American. He was just curious as to why not Great Britain or Ireland or Iceland for all that it would matter. The not United States part he could guess at pretty easily.

Carole continued her explanation and knew there'd be more to give later. "Because hybrids don't have legal status here, not much of one anyway, and if things keep getting worse, we wanted you protected. Anne and Dani said it was better this way. No one would immediately think to look up Kurt Hummel from Toronto and compare him with a Kurt Elizabeth from Ohio. As far as anyone is concerned, your mom was a Canadian citizen who died when you were young. You were bounced around from relative to relative for years which is why most of your school and medical records are lost. We adopted you at fourteen."

"I'm almost seventeen."

Burt picked up where his wife left off. Kurt looked confused while Blaine, who'd been sitting at the table quietly, was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep back a hopeful grin. "Yeah, but you look younger. On the paperwork, you're your real age, but if the neighbors get nosy about the kid that's been living here for awhile, we'll play you off as younger and say the adoption was recent. I know it's confusing and probably overly complicated, but your mom and aunts assured me that this was all for the best. Better to have back-up plans and stories in place so no one associates you with that place."

Kurt blanched at the reminder. "What about my ear?"

Carole beamed at her son and waved the matter off. "You know how kids are. They get a hold of scissors, think they can play hair dresser, and the next thing you know, they're in the emergency room with freaked out parents asking if the bit of ear, finger, or tail can be reattached. It happens more often than you think to both humans and hybrids. I'd wear a hat when outside though just to be safe."

Burt put an arm around his wife and asked the question they had once before and praying for the same answer again. "So what do you say, Kiddo, want to be a Hummel?"

Kurt wiped away the tears he could feel forming in his eyes and took in his parents' hopeful and equally watery smiles. "I'd love to."

* * * * * * *

Kurt had been happy. For an entire fifteen days, he been really and truly happy. Happy to the point he'd even started to wear clothing some days, or at least enough to cover up his bits and keep him warm throughout the chilly nights. It was easier to now that his mom had declared his elbow healed well enough to remove the sling and ACE bandage. She'd still cautioned him to go easy on it and would check it and ice it from time to time just to be sure. Just to be, as she put it, nurse motherly.

And that was what had made him happy. He had an illegally-legal mom and dad. A half dozen times a day, he'd go and stare at the documents - at his birth certificate, at his adoption papers, at his passport. He was Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, born May 27, 2001 to Elizabeth Connor, father unknown, a homebirth assisted by a midwife. His name was changed at fourteen when he had been adopted by a couple from "the States." If he was Canadian now, he needed to get the lingo right. Carole Hudson-Hummel and Burt Hummel, friends of one of the distant relatives he had been living with for a short time, had agreed to take him on. They'd always wanted to have more children, but not the exhaustion of the messy and sleep deprived infant through toddler years. He'd made that last part up himself.

He was fluent in French, or would be eventually if he studied hard enough, same as most Canadians. As soon as he was more mobile, he was going to learn how to make poutine. It looked delicious. In the meantime, he was learning the words to the national anthem, Canadian history and politics, and practicing his Ontarian accent. If he had lived in Canada since he was fourteen, he would have kept a lot of it.

He had hopes and dreams again that he shared each night with his boyfriend. His boyfriend who also now had hopes and dreams and new parents. Or rather a brother who would call once a week and try to get Blaine to call him Dad, Father, Athair, or Papá. Blaine always refused of course.

Then Friday, April 26th came. A clinic day and those were never fun. Kurt dressed in the same outfit he'd worn the last time: light gray sweatpants, a charcoal gray hoodie, and a cheap pair of tennis shoes. No underwear, no undershirt, no socks. The less to remove and put back on the better.

He sat and laid naked on the examination bed as they took his vitals, his blood, his pee, pictures of his innermost areas, and his sense of dignity and control. While his initial exam was by Doctor Carl, his orthopedic one was by a guy he didn't recall but claimed to have been the surgeon who had worked on his shoulder and put the cast on his wrist.

At his mom's urging and logical, "If the doctor removes your cast today do you really want bits landing on your bits, Kurt?" he'd agreed to put on a medical gown.

He was glad he had. The man wasn't pervy per say, but he was a bit off. Tall, mid 70's, fur turned to gray and thinning around his face and head - the type every show about doctors had at least one of.

The doctor entered the curtained off area, set down the large envelope he'd brought with him, and picked up the chart that had been placed on the counter next to the examination bed. He skimmed the pages and then looked at the boy sitting up on the table. "Good morning..." He turned back to the chart and found the patient's name, "Kurt, is it? I have your X-rays and CAT scans here and things are looking good, but I'm going to have a direct look myself." He glanced at the human woman in the room. Too many of the staff here were human, but she would have to do. "Nurse, if you could, remove the patient's sling and gown."

Kurt tensed immediately. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His mom had promised. "Doctor Carl already examined me."

"And now I will. After all, I am the one who repaired your hand and shoulder, not him. Nurse."

Kurt kept his eyes fixated on his mom and counted to ten in his head and then ten again as felt the coverings being removed, grateful for the small courtesy of having the gown pooled in his lap. The minute he was disrobed, the doctor started moving his arm, testing the muscles and joints attached to the shoulder, and talking as he did so.

"Most humans, especially the doctors, they don't understand hybrids and hybrid physiology. Some treat us like we're humans with fur. Others as talking animals. Just because humans and hybrids can breed doesn't make them the same and it doesn't mean they should in the first place. I've got this one patient, broken wrist and leg. Nice kid, but his mixing? It messes things up. Bones just a little bit off, some systems more this way, others that. Makes them harder to treat. You're lucky that you're full race. Not so lucky what happened to you, but you were an easy fix. Or would be if you didn't keep straining that shoulder and hand. That human doctor probably didn't tell you that your Vitamin D levels are too low. They think because we're covered in fur that our skin won't make it, but it will. Get some sun or get some supplements. Up your K, iron, and protein too. Couldn't hurt to get a B12 shot while you're here. Nurse?"

"I'll see to it, Doctor."

Kurt stared at his mom with wide eyes. He knew what that meant. He'd seen enough episodes of ER and...and...other shows he couldn't name at the moment, but they all gave that shot in the same place. A needle stabbed into his butt? He'd rather chug a six-pack of Boost at a kegger full of jocks. He cowed to his mom's silently returned expressions to be good. He had to admit she had good mom glare.

"Okay, Kurt, your shoulder isn't quite where I want it to be yet, so we're going to keep you in the sling for a bit longer, but you can start doing a few exercises under the care of a physical therapist. I'll remove your cast today and that should take some of the weight off your shoulder. You'll need a physical therapist to get the tendons in your fingers stretched out and to lessen the scar tissue." He made a few notes in the patient's chart and directed his next order to the help. "Nurse, you can pull the patient's gown back up. Things are about to get messy."

With his left hand, Kurt kept a grip on the hem of the gown as his mom tied it back up and then during the entire procedure. His right arm was placed on a folded up towel on a rolling bedside table and then a small, round, electric saw was set to his cast. It didn't take long to cut through the layers. Removing the wrappings underneath took more time. Kurt looked at his hand in horror. The fur under the cast had grown back curly and strawberry blonde.

The doctor saw his patient's reaction and explained. "Hybrid hair tends to change color and texture when it's shaved and grown back under a cast. Don't worry, a couple of months, a couple of sheddings, and it'll return to normal. You won't even be able to tell."

Kurt wasn't sure he believed the man, but didn't really have any knowledge to counter it. "Okay."

"When are you coming back?"

"Um, May 12, for my hip." Kurt watched curiously as the doctor did some calculations in his head.

"Three weeks is longer than I'd like, but it's doable and saves the clinic money. For your shoulder, I want you in the sling for another week. The week after, half a day in, half a day out. After that, see how it goes twenty-four/seven. No lifting heavy things. No strenuous movements. Nice and slow. If it hurts, stop. If there's swelling, ice it. The nurse can print up some stretches to do until you can set up an appointment with a physical therapist. Do you have any questions or are you all good?"

"I'm good."

"Great. I'll see you in three weeks."

Kurt watched as the doctor left abruptly, not even taking the time or courtesy to close the curtain behind him. His mom did, affording him what little privacy there was in this place.

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

"It's okay." Kurt thought his words over and tried again. "I mean, it's not, but I've come to expect it. I'm sorry for how he treated you."

Carole returned her son's resigned grimace. "It's okay. Like you said, it's not really. But as a nurse, it comes with the job. I'm used to it."

Kurt played with the hem of his medical gown and tried to brush off the dust that had come from the removal of his cast. "Was he mean to Blaine?"

Carole chose her words carefully. "Not directly. He was...professional. It's not like the doctor could unmake him. Blaine got the care he needed. I made sure of it."

"Thank you." For lack of anything else to do, he looked around the small enclosure that was Exam Room 3. He'd been in this one before. Room was a weird name for section of space whose walls were nothing but an old, ugly yellow and blue floral print, not-really-private privacy curtain. He was pretty sure the blood stain was new. "What's next?"

"Doctor Howell is going to come back in. Tell you to keep off the leg and maybe start doing some gentle stretches for that hamstring. Did he talk to you about your ribs?"

"No, he just did a quick exam and got called away. Then Doctor Races Shouldn't Mix came in. Can you check on Blaine? Make sure he's okay?"

"You'll be fine on your own?"

Kurt shrugged and winced at the pain. The shoulder exam had not done him any favors. "I was earlier."

"I'm sorry that your dad couldn't come, but he needed to get some work done in the shop before he picks up your brother. I'll be back as soon as I can." Carole patted her son's arm and kissed the top of his head before she left. She knew how much these visits cost Kurt mentally and could only hope there wouldn't be many more.

"Thanks, Mom."

It wasn't more than ten minutes after saying those words before Doctor Carl came in with a syringe and told him to lay down on his front so that his butt could be exposed. "Oh, hell, fucking no! Get away from me with that thing! Mom! Mom!"

"Kurt, it's just a B12 shot."

"I don't care if it's the cure for cancer." Kurt was relieved when he saw his mom. "Tell him! I've been touched enough today. No one is sticking a needle up my asshole. What the fuck is everyone's fascination with it anyway? Please, Mom. I'll drink the Boost instead. Get him away from me!"

"Your what?" Carole quickly put two and two together. Her son was shaking, his legs drawn up, and his free arm was scrambling to close the gown's back opening. "Kurt, what led you to believe that's where you would get a shot?"

Kurt glared at Doctor Carl. The jackass was practically laughing at him. His mom at least was just worried. "On TV and in the movies. The person drops their pants and then their tail gets lifted if they're a hybrid, and the camera turns away so you don't see exactly where it goes. But we all know where things go. It's where everything goes when you're forced to take off your pants." He knew this! He knew it from the Reformatory and he knew this from his examinations here. If they weren't shoving something up your ass, they were feeling around it.

Carole knew better than to touch her son when he was terrified, so she calmed him down with her voice instead. "Oh, Kurt, Honey, no. Nothing like that at all. The needle goes into the fatty tissue on the buttock itself, closer to the upper thigh actually." She touched her own bottom to show him the exact area. "No one is going to violate you. I swear. If it'll make you feel any better, I can prepare another B12 shot and Doctor Howell can demonstrate on me. I could probably use one too."

Kurt scrunched up his face. He wasn't sure he was ready to see mom butt. At least the thought of it had driven out some of the bad ones. "Are you sure I need this?"

"It can only help."

"Will it hurt?"

"You'll feel a little moisture from the antiseptic wipe and then a little pinch and pressure from the needle. Then another wipe and that's it. Similar to getting a blood draw."

"Can you do it?"

At the doctor's nod, Carole retrieved an antiseptic wipe from a drawer, opened it up, and took the syringe from him. "Just lay on your stomach and try not to put pressure on your shoulder or hand."

"Okay." Kurt did as he was told and consented when his mom asked if she could move back a bit of his medical gown, unsure if he was glad he had kept it on or not. He watched her movements closely, ready to flee or flight back if she had lied to him. The cold moisture of the wipe made him startle a little and the needle hurt more than "a pinch," but it was over quickly.

"You're all done, Kurt."

Kurt accepted his mom's help in turning back over and was grateful when she tugged the front of the gown over his privates and tucked the sides around his backside. "Am I stupid for thinking what I did?"

"No, Sweetie. Just misinformed and traumatized in ways no one deserves."

Kurt laid where he was and look forlornly at his mom. "Can I go home now?"

"In a little bit. Doctor Howell needs to talk some things over with you and then finish up with Blaine."

"Can you stay with me?"

"Of course."

The rest of the visit went quickly after that. His ankle and ribs were declared healed, but he was given the usual lecture to stay off his hip and go easy on the rest. Gentle stretching could be done to start rehabilitating the hamstring and ITB. The nutrition lecture was also repeated. He was sure he had it memorized by now.

At long last Kurt was allowed to get dressed and snuggle next to Blaine in the car while his mom went back inside the building to get a few things. "I got a shot in my ass. How about you?"

Blaine leaned his head on his boyfriend's shoulder and let out a sigh. "I got my ass examined."

Kurt tensed. He knew exactly what that meant and there was no misunderstanding about it given Blaine's tone. "What? Why?"

"Remember my birthday?"

"Fondly."

Blaine tried to laugh, but it came out weak. "Remember the night after my birthday and the next weekend and your adoption day and all the celebrating we've been doing since even though your mom keeps finding condom wrappers and getting mad?"

"Of course."

"It's been a bit...rough sometimes and I asked to be checked out."

Kurt pulled back so his boyfriend could see the remorse in his eyes. "Blaine, why didn't you say something? You know our rules, consent and comfort. Neither of us does anything without both."

"I know. It's okay. I wanted to. Trust me."

"So what was the diagnosis?"

Blaine shifted, wanted to get his broken leg into a better position and stall for time. He hated the intimate area exams and hated the lecture he had been given after this one. "I'm fine. No major damage. Nothing that a week or two of abstinence from anal activities won't fix and we're to take things a bit slower for awhile after that. Better prep, more lubricant. No more fingering me with the hand that's in a cast, but that's not relevant anymore. I have to make sure I'm not putting any pressure on your hip or my leg. Things like that."

"I'm really sorry."

"I know, but you don't have to be."

The car shook a bit and they turned around to see Carole load something into the trunk.

The minute his mom was in the car, Kurt turned on her. All thoughts of what he and Blaine could and couldn't do in bed were erased. "What was that? Was that a case of Boost? It was wasn't it?"

Carole sighed. So much for the boys not noticing. "It's a new flavor and a first run batch, Kurt. You boys are to try it out and give your opinions on a questionnaire."

"Oh, I'll give my opinions!"

She started the car and couldn't help but meet her son with a retort of her own. Being Kurt and Blaine's acting guardian and main health care provider, Doctor Howell had filled her in on the results of their check up. "Great, you can write them down with those newly-freed fingers. Give them something to do while your boyfriend heals from activities you weren't supposed to be doing in the first place."

"Oh my god!"

"I hate to say it, Kurt, but maybe next time, you should listen to your mother with the nursing degree."

* * * * * * *

No amount of bribing with pizza could calm Kurt down as he watched his dad and mom help Finn unload the truck, bringing inside more than possibly could have fit in a shared dorm room. He wished his dad hadn't hidden the bottle of champagne April had given Blaine. A drink would have helped and was worth the risk of mixing with his anti-anxiety meds. It would be a few hours before he took them anyway.

Finn had greeted him cheerfully, calling him Bro and Dude. He'd been nice to Blaine too. He hadn't stared too much, but then again, Kurt had kept his underwear, undershirt, socks, pajama pants, and a thick hoodie on, then covered himself and his boyfriend with blankets. If he had to flee, he wanted to be at least somewhat able to withstand the elements. For late April, it was unusually cold, and had been all month.

The only unpleasant remarks Finn had made was about the bedside commode and complaining about how was he supposed to eat in the living room where people were pooping. Their mom had reminded him that such had been happening over Spring Break as well. only with bedpans and urinals. While it grossed Finn out, it apparently had no affect on his appetite and he shoved another half slice of pizza in his mouth.

Kurt held his tongue throughout it all. He didn't yell at Finn that he and Blaine would have been better by now had he not forced them upstairs and caused them to be injured. He didn't tell him he was lucky to be able to eat at all and with unlimited access to food. He didn't even taunt him with the fact that he'd been using his game system while naked and had more than once gotten his dick confused with the joystick.

Instead, from the minute Finn entered the house to the minute he walked up the stairs to go to sleep, he watched, he waited, he ate little and pocketed his servings in a large plastic baggie, making sure there was enough for Blaine too. He wasn't going to let his boyfriend down again.

* * * * * * *

Kurt worked hard to keep his morning erection, accepting Blaine's eager offer to help as he quietly removed his clothing. He had planned this weeks ago. His parents would probably call it an act of rebellion. His boyfriend knew it for what it was - a test. A test to see if he would be kicked out, if they would favor Finn's needs over his own, if they really would remain his parents and he their son like they'd promised. And most of all wanted to see what Finn would do. He was the greatest danger.

Secure in the knowledge that Blaine was dressed with his crutches and their bolt bags within easy reach, Kurt walked into the kitchen. He tried to hide his limp as he did so, standing as proud and bold as he could, the only sign of weakness being his right arm in a sling.

His mom was the first to notice his entrance as she turned her head away from the stove where she was scrambling eggs for breakfast. He heard her quiet sigh that she tried to hide with a polite smile.

"Do you want some eggs, Sweetie or did you want something else for breakfast?"

"Eggs would be great, thank you. Could you make some for Blaine too?"

"Already was."

Kurt went to the counter and pulled a banana off the bunch hanging on the holder. Leaning back on the cabinets to take the weight off his leg and remain in full erect view, he peeled the piece of curved fruit and slowly began to eat it. It was then that Finn looked up from his bowl of cereal and his eyes went wide, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away.

Kurt grinned smugly. Finn could stare in jealousy at the size of his dick all he wanted. He'd seen the guy sporting wood while watching a sportsball game on TV. Getting all excited while going commando in loose gym shorts had left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It had been like watching an albino eel flopping around inside its cave, taking the occasional peek outside. He had never understood the machismo need of human and hybrid males to brag about the size of their dicks and consider the bigger, the more dominant. He was going to take advantage of that fact though.

When he was done eating his banana, he went and poured himself a cup of coffee. Opening up the fridge in order to retrieve some milk started to wilt him a bit, but then he thought of Blaine's talented mouth and it instantly returned to fullness. Lest his mom chastise him for being on his bad leg for too long, he set his coffee cup down on the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. He stretched his body and shook out his muscles before seating himself. The action had honestly felt good, but the sight of Finn's open mouth and then intent focus on his bowl of cereal was even better.

"Are you making sausages too, Mom?"

"Bacon, Kurt."

"Sounds great. Thanks." Kurt admired his mom for having the patience of a saint and not yell at him or send him back to the living room. He ate the food he was given, not speaking to Finn, but watching him via small glances and out of the corner of his eye, and keeping up a conversation with his mom. "Are you or Dad going to be home or will Sam be coming over?"

"We're splitting the day. Your dad will be at the shop for most of it, but then I've got the late shift at work. If I run a few errands this afternoon, will you be okay?"

Kurt understood his mom's pointed stare and raised eyebrow and replied to the unspoken, true meaning of her question. Fortunately, Finn remained clueless and quiet. "Blaine and I have our cell phones charged and will call you if we need help."

"Thank you. Write down anything you need."

"Thanks, Mom." Kurt finished his breakfast and when he was done, offered to take Blaine's in. His erection had waned by then, but it no longer mattered. The first stage of the test was over and the rest was just beginning.

* * * * * * *

Kurt refused to wear a single stitch of clothing for the next three weeks. He ate naked. He slept naked. He watched TV with his family naked. And he played video games with Sam completely and utterly naked, which had Finn running away in horror, calling their mom on the phone and shouting at her, "Kurt's junk is touching the controller!" He played a lot more video games after that, even the ones he hated.

He even made out with Blaine when his parents were asleep or out of the house and knew that Finn was around and awake. Exhibitionism wasn't either of their thing, but Blaine had understood. Kurt had to make sure they were going to be safe. They had kept to the medical rule of no anal, but oral and getting handsy were on the table, or the fold out couch really, and in full view. Flashbacks and panic attacks had stopped them a few times, retreating under the covers and soothing the other down and away from the nightmares of the past. For the most part, things had gone smoothly, orgasms had, with very few complaints from Finn. Both his mom and dad had quietly, yet not-so-subtly dropped off bottles of lube, boxes of condoms, and Miss Pillsbury's pamphlets, Public or Private: Is Exhibitionism Right for You? and Help, I Can't Stop Having Sex in Public Places. They had cooled it off after that.

On the third week, Finn started hanging out more with his friends, finding any excuse to leave the house. He'd even offered to run errands, but their parents knew from past experience that the list wouldn't be only be partially followed and the money spent on junk food. This Kurt could understand. There were a lot of things he would love to splurge on if he had the money. Cheesecake, pizza, stylish hats, and clothing that in no way could be mistaken for loungewear at the top of the list.

When he wasn't testing the patience of his parents and brother, Kurt did as was asked of him. He accepted his routine medical care with minimal complaint, though being forced to drink cans of Boost still pissed him off. He'd caught his parents altering his comments on the questionnaire, grumbling about all the curse words while at the same time admiring his creative use of the unique ones.

He had his physical therapy sessions, letting Sam use him as a guinea pig who was now training under the direction of a certified physical therapist who worked for the clinic. Kurt wore underwear, shorts, and a tank top for those appointments. He didn't know the PT and needed the layers to help him feel protected. At least his mom or dad tried to be around for them too, understanding that the touching would be longer than any he had experienced at the clinic.

He had his mental therapy sessions too. Miss Pillsbury responded to his new treatment fears with Anxiety: I'm Shaking Too Much to Open This Pamphlet and Good Touch vs Bad Touch: How to Tell the Difference. She gave him a few regarding sibling rivalry and The Awkward Puzzle Piece: A Guide for Adopted Kids as well.

* * * * * * *

Friday, May 11th came and once again, Kurt and Blaine were helped into the back of the truck and driven to the former Boost factory that had been converted into a semi-secret medical clinic for the hybrid population of Allen County and surrounding areas.

They were seated in wheelchairs upon entering and pushed to examination rooms, adjacent this time. Each was helped out of their clothing, then Blaine into a medical gown, while Kurt retained his reputation as Naked Guy.

Blaine had been assigned to Doctor Jones and sadly both knew what that meant. They exchanged a despondent look before the curtain was closed between them.

While Blaine was getting probed, Kurt submitted to Doctor Carl's examination of his hip and truthfully answering in the negative when asked if there was any telltale pain in his pelvic area when he put weight on the leg. Only his hamstring and ITB remained mildly painful as of late, but that was mostly on days with bad weather, same as his hip and ribs. His shoulder and still blonde-haired hand were given an initial assessment too.

The usual X-rays and CAT scans followed. He and Blaine got to chat for a few minutes while waiting their turn. Blaine assured Kurt that everything had checked out okay and he was cleared to resume "enjoyable activities" as long as all of their broken bones had healed thoroughly as well.

Kurt put on a medical gown, despite knowing it would be pulled down, when it came time to be examined by the orthopedic surgeon. His mom was with him as before and he answered the doctor's questions as succinctly as he could and tried not to roll his eyes at his prejudicial attitudes. He didn't like or trust most humans either, but his adoptive parents were human and his boyfriend was half-human. So was his home health aid and, much to mom's great joy, the sweetest woman he'd ever met who was sponsoring his care and had called to check on him once on one of her good days. They weren't the government nor those who had elected the administration to power. He kept quiet about it all though. The man wouldn't understand and he just wanted the examination to be over with.

Kurt did let out a long and happy smile of relief when he was declared well enough to resume normal use of the arm, shoulder, and hand within limits. Lots of physical therapy was still in his future as was being restricted to light activities.

His mom tied his gown back up, then wheeled him back to his examination room where he asked to be disrobed again, "Just in case they have to do another exam while you're helping Blaine."

His dad stayed by his side and they talked cars and how the extended winter had drummed up an increase in all-weather tire sales at Hummel Tires & Lube. Hesitantly, Kurt asked he could starting working again if he was medically cleared and was thrilled at his dad's cheerful agreement. He also asked if he could start going over to Millie and Marley's to take French lessons one of the homeschooling parents was offering to the hybrid kids that had formed a kind of co-op and safe place to learn. As with the offer to work, his dad had happily agreed.

Kurt didn't admit that he had been thinking of going to college some day and wanted to save up the money and finish his high school education in order to do so. He didn't have a clue as to what he wanted to study or when it would even be financially possible, but the brochures his aunts had sent had planted the idea in his head and he liked it.

Doctor Carl came in at last and showed him the Before and After scans. His hip had finally healed, but like his shoulder and other injuries, had to be used lightly for another few months. "Slowly, slowly, and you stop when it hurts. Listen to your physical therapist and your mom so you don't have to come back here, okay?"

Kurt's greatest joy came when he heard the privacy curtain between his and Blaine's rooms being pulled aside and there was Blaine standing on both legs and waving with his now dark-blonde hand that matched his right leg, completely cast free. He was leaning on crutches, but his smile was wide. It expanded further when he pulled aside a portion of his medical gown to reveal that he was also now sling free, his unencumbered tail swishing a happy beat behind him.

Kurt went to him and they hugged and wiped away tears and commented on how they both looked like the product of drunken stylists with their mismatched fur colors. They only knew their shared kiss had gone on for longer than expected when Burt cleared his throat and handed them their pants. Embarrassed, but laughing, they dressed and tried not to protest the precaution of being wheeled out of the clinic one last time.

As they drove away, promises of a celebratory dinner coming from his parents, Kurt flipped off the clinic in contrast to Blaine's wave of goodbye.

When they got home and Kurt had been reassured that there would be no ice pack or heating pad time for the rest of the day, he did something he hadn't done in months. Ignoring the curious stares, he gathered up a number of items from his storage shelving unit and headed to the bathroom. When he emerged an hour later, he was thoroughly showered, dried, and brushed.

He laughed at his dad's muttered, "Oh, thank god," at the most shocking part of his appearance. For he was dressed from feet to head - socks, undergarments, skull print lounge pants, gray plaid newsboy hat, and the piece de resistance - a gray and red Canada T-shirt his aunts had sent him as an early birthday and adoption day present.