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Fic: turkey bowl
Title: turkey bowl
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG
Characters: Kurt, Blaine, Finn, Rachel, Carole, Burt
Summary: Blaine's family lives in California, so Kurt invites him to chez Hudson-Hummel for Thanksgiving.
Count: 2428 words
Notes: Pretty much everything in this came from the request on the fluff meme. This is pure fluffy silliness.
Blaine wakes up on Thanksgiving morning because there is a thud and then someone swearing under his breath; someone else -- someone whose voice is immediately recognizable -- hisses, "Finn!"
"I'm sorry," says Kurt's stepbrother in a stage-whisper. "I tripped!"
Blaine blinks blearily at the ceiling, then sits up on the couch. Finn and Kurt stare at him guiltily, Kurt over the island that separates the living room from the kitchen and Finn from the hallway.
"Sorry, dude," says Finn, who looks as sleepy as Blaine feels and is rubbing his pajama-clad shin. "I had to pee."
Kurt rolls his eyes.
"It's cool," Blaine says fuzzily, shifting the quilt off his lap and heading over to the island. "We've all gotta go sometime."
Finn is in flannel pajama bottoms and a hoodie as he mutters something and zombie-shuffles off to the bathroom, and Blaine is wearing sweats and a T-shirt, but Kurt -- and this somehow doesn't surprise Blaine at all -- looks completely put together, like he's already dressed for the day. His hair is falling across his forehead and into his eyes, though, and there isn't any tapping or clomping when he moves in the kitchen, so Blaine thinks he's in his socks.
He's also surrounded by pans, eggs, and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.
"Breakfast?" Blaine asks, rubbing at his eyes.
"There aren't usually real eggs in the house, despite Finn's protests," Kurt says, busily whisking away. "But on this occasion, I was outvoted by a scale of three-to-one. Apparently, you can't bake," he makes finger-quotes with attitude, " 'real pies' with egg substitute."
"Actually, I kind of agree," Blaine admits, and he ducks when Kurt looks like he's considering flicking whisked eggs at him.
When the front door opens, the living room looks like this:
Blaine's bedding shunted off in a corner;
A neat stack of used plates, utensils, and mugs on the coffee table;
Kurt, Rachel, and Blaine sitting on the couch (in that order), holding an animated discussion on the merits of Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson as cast members perform a number during one of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade musical breaks; and
Finn staring sleepily (blankly) at the TV from the armchair where he is bundled up in blankets.
"--Morning," Kurt's dad says, sounding kind of wary. He and Kurt's stepmom have their arms full of paper bags; Kurt had described it as last-minute supply shopping.
"All I'm saying is that this is nothing like the seminal classics of Broad good morning, Mr. Hummel," Rachel says, without making a pause or taking a breath. She's a little unreal, Blaine thinks, and exactly like Kurt described her. "Hi Mrs. Hud -- Mrs. Hummel."
"That's the point, Rachel," Kurt says, acid-tongued, and Blaine bemusedly waves at Kurt's parents, since he is clearly never going to get a word in edgewise here. Carole smiles at him and looks amused by the scene in front of her; Burt's face pretty clearly says ooo-kay, but Blaine suspects it's directed more at Rachel Berry's unexpected presence than anything else that's going on.
The soloist on the TV butchers a high note, wrenching it flat, and Blaine, Kurt, and Rachel all wince and/or groan at once. Carole laughs and Burt quietly snorts as they pass.
"That was shamefully unprofessional," Kurt says, staring at the television with no small amount of scandalized, awed horror; Blaine feels the same way.
"Are you staying for dinner, Rachel?" Carole calls from the kitchen.
"I only came over to watch the parade with Finn," Rachel answers (Finn grunts at hearing his name); "my dads are picking me up on the way to my grandmother's house in Elida. We feel that family time is tremendously important, especially at the holidays." Beat. "Plus, due to strong ethical concerns about the cruel force-feeding and slaughtering of animals, I don't eat turkey. Daddy has prepared a tofurkey for me to cook at Grandmama's."
"... All right, honey!" says Carole from the kitchen.
Blaine raises his eyebrows at Kurt over Rachel's head; Kurt pulls a very effective face. "This is one of the most absurd things I've ever seen," Kurt says, and Blaine is pretty sure he's talking about the musical performance, in which Henry Clay is now singing about Andrew Jackson's potential bigamy.
"It's totally a satire," Blaine protests.
"I have no idea what they're talking about," Finn mumbles, and Carole laughs in the kitchen and Rachel apparently takes it as an invitation to get up off the couch and crawl into the chair with Finn, and start very seriously explaining the entire ideology behind Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson as a tour de force of alternate-history musical.
"If you hurt Kurt in any way, shape, or form," Rachel says fiercely under her breath, glowering up at Blaine from under a flowered beret, "you will regret it," and then she beams, shouts her goodbyes to the rest of the family, and shuts the door.
Blaine thinks about it for several seconds, and then he turns around and calls, "Kurt, can we keep her?"
"No!" Kurt shouts back from the kitchen, and Finn's voice says, "Hey..." like he's not sure which comment he should object to more strenuously.
There are so many people in this house.
"So many people," Blaine says, dazed, when Kurt slows down long enough to ask if he's doing okay. He's been squeezed between a neighbor and Finn's Great Aunt Mildred for a while; every time he has tried to rise off the couch, someone has drawn him back in. He hasn't been present at a Thanksgiving like this in years and it's becoming overwhelming.
"Come on," says Kurt, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him up, ignoring the protests of what a nice young man Blaine is; "we're going; this way--"
Which is how Blaine winds up up to his scrubbed-clean elbows in turkey guts.
"For the record, this is seriously disgusting," says Blaine, mostly good-natured, as he pulls something long and glistening out of the enormous turkey's chest cavity.
"That's what you get for volunteering for 'anything,' " says Kurt's stepmom, somehow wry and very cheerful at the same time as she settles a pie on a rack on the counter.
"I'm not touching turkey innards." Kurt makes an imperious gesture up and down his outfit with the wooden spoon that he has been using to mix the salad. "McQueen," he says.
Blaine doesn't point out that Kurt is wearing an apron over the gray skinny jeans and the blue cardigan; he's fairly sure that's beside the point. (Also being ignored right now: the fact that this is a pretty subdued ensemble by Kurt's non-uniform standards and it's still garnering some weird looks from the Hudson side of the family, and the fact that Blaine thinks about putting his hands over the two stylized handprints on Kurt's sweater every time he looks at them.)
Blaine glances down at his corduroys and plain sweater. "...Banana Republic," he says. "You win," and Kurt laughs. "Would you at least itch my nose?" he asks, trying to rub his face in his own shoulder. "This is driving me nuts."
"Hold still," Kurt orders, and he reaches over and scratches Blaine's nose with the non-utensil end of his wooden spoon. They smile at each other for several long seconds -- too long -- and then Kurt makes a quick, graceful spin on his heel, back to his salad. Blaine can see the back of his neck slowly flushing a dull red above the collar of his sweater and below his hairline.
"Thanks," says Blaine, and he catches sight of Carole watching their reflections in the window over the sink, both sides of her mouth quietly tipped up.
Then an aunt and two more female cousins sweep into the room, squealing and hugging Carole, and Kurt needs to be re-introduced after the wedding and Blaine needs to be introduced period, and the kitchen is packed full of helpers for the rest of the afternoon. Blaine ducks out of the heat and the mouthwatering smells after a while, and on his way back from the bathroom, gets distracted by Finn and two of his uncles (and a 20-something cousin) hollering at the Bengals game. Burt is glaring at the TV like it's going to magically make the Bengals' special teams suck less.
(Blaine thinks it might just work. Kurt's dad has been very cool, but is a little scary.)
"Come on!" complains Uncle Ned, throwing his arms up and putting his hands on his head.
"Did Pettrey just miss a field goal attempt from fifteen yards?" Blaine asks, dismayed, and all five men turn around and look at him over the back of the couch and the armchairs pulled up in front of the TV. He politely pretends he doesn't notice that Finn's eyebrows are furrowed so hard that that wrinkle might as well be the Grand Canyon. "I'm all for rooting for a former Buckeye, but that was just embarrassing."
"Sit down, son," Burt offers, into the protracted silence, and Blaine glances toward the kitchen.
"I was helping--" he says.
"C'mon; there're so many cooks in there, they won't even notice you're gone," Burt says. "Besides, you're makin' us all look bad in there."
"Totally," Finn agrees. "I think my mom's gonna expect me to start chopping things."
The crowd roars at something on the TV and everyone's heads snap back toward it. There's a general shout of derision from the entire audience; Burt barks, "What?"
"If you keep getting all excited, Kurt's gonna come out and make you stop watching," Finn warns Burt, who looks disgruntled but shoots a furtive glance toward the kitchen and sinks down lower in his chair.
Hiding his grin, Blaine figures he'll just stand and watch for a couple minutes -- but then Finn slides over on the ottoman, and it would be rude to pass up that offer, right?
Which is why Kurt finds him shouting with approval and high-fiving Finn a half an hour later.
Blaine is well into a spirited, cheerful (maybe slightly giddy) argument about current Broadway musicals and the comparative values of Next to Normal vs. In the Heights before he realizes that all conversation around them has halted and he and Kurt are being stared at. Kurt's exacting seating chart was disregarded early on in the meal (too impractical for what is essentially a pretty informal gathering), but Blaine had just snagged a plate and a seat beside Kurt at the end of the table, and he figured that was good enough.
Now, looking at Uncle Ned, Great Aunt Mildred, Steve-the-neighbor, somebody's grandparents, and Finn's hulking cousin, he thinks that they probably could have picked a more understanding spot. Kurt's immediate family may be a little unsure of what to do with all of this -- as was evidenced by the awkward, awkward negotiations last night about where Blaine was going to sleep -- but they're funny and warm and welcoming and they're trying, and they get Kurt. Blaine doesn't think that Burt or Carole or Finn would bat an eyelash at this conversation.
The Hudsons' extended family and the new neighbors, though, don't seem like they know what to make of it.
Kurt apparently comes to the same realization just after Blaine does; he falls silent, glancing from relative to relative.
"Next to Normal has Aaron Tveit," Blaine points out, looking right at Kurt, who quickly turns back toward him, blinking.
"--Did you see his guest appearance on Ugly Betty?" Kurt asks, slowly falling into their back-and-forth again.
"Um, yes," says Blaine brightly, and he's treated to a quick-but-worth-it smile. "I can't believe they didn't take advantage of what they had!"
"I know!" Kurt commiserates, almost talking over him. "How do you cast Aaron Tveit and not require him to sing?"
"The glasses?" Blaine asks consideringly, eyebrows up, and Kurt tucks his pointer finger against his thumb and holds up his hand, his other three fingers raised. Kurt apparently approved of the character's hipster glasses.
Blaine takes a bite of turkey and gravy (it's delicious) and then uses his fork to gesture enthusiastically. Screw the stares; full speed ahead.
"I'm sorry you were subjected to that," Kurt says stiffly the second they're alone. "I know it was awkward."
Blaine knows he shouldn't reach out to him, because that could send Signals and he's actually trying to keep a lid on those, with Kurt still adjusting to all the changes that have been going on in his life (and also with the fact that staying as a guest in Kurt's dad's house over Thanksgiving break is not the time to try to start anything) -- but he wants to. So he does it anyway, resting his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "You don't have anything to apologize for," he says firmly. "Besides, trust me. I've sat through family dinners that were ten times more awkward than that."
Kurt does that half-lipped smile thing that he does when he doesn't actually feel like smiling -- and he ignores the fact that Blaine said anything. "This is only the second time I've met any of them, and the general feel of the room tonight is much less intoxicated than it was at the rehearsal dinner and the reception--"
"It's okay, Kurt; really," Blaine says, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Maybe this is just my Pollyanna talking, but they actually seemed pretty well-meaning, generally. Just ... kind of confused."
Kurt laughs, a little thick but genuine-sounding. "It's just been me and my dad for a long time," he says. "I guess I kind of forgot that Carole and Finn come with a bunch of other people, too."
As if he heard his name or something, Finn comes around the corner at that very moment. He stops short and stares like a really gawky deer in the headlights when he finds himself faced with Blaine and Kurt standing close together in the stairs, Blaine's hand on Kurt's shoulder. "--Oh," says Finn, staring up at them. "I, uh -- sorry--" and before either of them can say a word, he ducks back out of the stairs.
Kurt rolls his eyes, looking much more sure of himself again, and Blaine laughs.
"This is the best Thanksgiving I've had in years, Kurt," he says, and Kurt's face pinks up nicely before he drags Blaine away to try the carb-free fat-free pie that he apparently baked as a giant middle finger to traditional holiday desserts.
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG
Characters: Kurt, Blaine, Finn, Rachel, Carole, Burt
Summary: Blaine's family lives in California, so Kurt invites him to chez Hudson-Hummel for Thanksgiving.
Count: 2428 words
Notes: Pretty much everything in this came from the request on the fluff meme. This is pure fluffy silliness.
Blaine wakes up on Thanksgiving morning because there is a thud and then someone swearing under his breath; someone else -- someone whose voice is immediately recognizable -- hisses, "Finn!"
"I'm sorry," says Kurt's stepbrother in a stage-whisper. "I tripped!"
Blaine blinks blearily at the ceiling, then sits up on the couch. Finn and Kurt stare at him guiltily, Kurt over the island that separates the living room from the kitchen and Finn from the hallway.
"Sorry, dude," says Finn, who looks as sleepy as Blaine feels and is rubbing his pajama-clad shin. "I had to pee."
Kurt rolls his eyes.
"It's cool," Blaine says fuzzily, shifting the quilt off his lap and heading over to the island. "We've all gotta go sometime."
Finn is in flannel pajama bottoms and a hoodie as he mutters something and zombie-shuffles off to the bathroom, and Blaine is wearing sweats and a T-shirt, but Kurt -- and this somehow doesn't surprise Blaine at all -- looks completely put together, like he's already dressed for the day. His hair is falling across his forehead and into his eyes, though, and there isn't any tapping or clomping when he moves in the kitchen, so Blaine thinks he's in his socks.
He's also surrounded by pans, eggs, and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.
"Breakfast?" Blaine asks, rubbing at his eyes.
"There aren't usually real eggs in the house, despite Finn's protests," Kurt says, busily whisking away. "But on this occasion, I was outvoted by a scale of three-to-one. Apparently, you can't bake," he makes finger-quotes with attitude, " 'real pies' with egg substitute."
"Actually, I kind of agree," Blaine admits, and he ducks when Kurt looks like he's considering flicking whisked eggs at him.
When the front door opens, the living room looks like this:
Blaine's bedding shunted off in a corner;
A neat stack of used plates, utensils, and mugs on the coffee table;
Kurt, Rachel, and Blaine sitting on the couch (in that order), holding an animated discussion on the merits of Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson as cast members perform a number during one of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade musical breaks; and
Finn staring sleepily (blankly) at the TV from the armchair where he is bundled up in blankets.
"--Morning," Kurt's dad says, sounding kind of wary. He and Kurt's stepmom have their arms full of paper bags; Kurt had described it as last-minute supply shopping.
"All I'm saying is that this is nothing like the seminal classics of Broad good morning, Mr. Hummel," Rachel says, without making a pause or taking a breath. She's a little unreal, Blaine thinks, and exactly like Kurt described her. "Hi Mrs. Hud -- Mrs. Hummel."
"That's the point, Rachel," Kurt says, acid-tongued, and Blaine bemusedly waves at Kurt's parents, since he is clearly never going to get a word in edgewise here. Carole smiles at him and looks amused by the scene in front of her; Burt's face pretty clearly says ooo-kay, but Blaine suspects it's directed more at Rachel Berry's unexpected presence than anything else that's going on.
The soloist on the TV butchers a high note, wrenching it flat, and Blaine, Kurt, and Rachel all wince and/or groan at once. Carole laughs and Burt quietly snorts as they pass.
"That was shamefully unprofessional," Kurt says, staring at the television with no small amount of scandalized, awed horror; Blaine feels the same way.
"Are you staying for dinner, Rachel?" Carole calls from the kitchen.
"I only came over to watch the parade with Finn," Rachel answers (Finn grunts at hearing his name); "my dads are picking me up on the way to my grandmother's house in Elida. We feel that family time is tremendously important, especially at the holidays." Beat. "Plus, due to strong ethical concerns about the cruel force-feeding and slaughtering of animals, I don't eat turkey. Daddy has prepared a tofurkey for me to cook at Grandmama's."
"... All right, honey!" says Carole from the kitchen.
Blaine raises his eyebrows at Kurt over Rachel's head; Kurt pulls a very effective face. "This is one of the most absurd things I've ever seen," Kurt says, and Blaine is pretty sure he's talking about the musical performance, in which Henry Clay is now singing about Andrew Jackson's potential bigamy.
"It's totally a satire," Blaine protests.
"I have no idea what they're talking about," Finn mumbles, and Carole laughs in the kitchen and Rachel apparently takes it as an invitation to get up off the couch and crawl into the chair with Finn, and start very seriously explaining the entire ideology behind Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson as a tour de force of alternate-history musical.
"If you hurt Kurt in any way, shape, or form," Rachel says fiercely under her breath, glowering up at Blaine from under a flowered beret, "you will regret it," and then she beams, shouts her goodbyes to the rest of the family, and shuts the door.
Blaine thinks about it for several seconds, and then he turns around and calls, "Kurt, can we keep her?"
"No!" Kurt shouts back from the kitchen, and Finn's voice says, "Hey..." like he's not sure which comment he should object to more strenuously.
There are so many people in this house.
"So many people," Blaine says, dazed, when Kurt slows down long enough to ask if he's doing okay. He's been squeezed between a neighbor and Finn's Great Aunt Mildred for a while; every time he has tried to rise off the couch, someone has drawn him back in. He hasn't been present at a Thanksgiving like this in years and it's becoming overwhelming.
"Come on," says Kurt, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him up, ignoring the protests of what a nice young man Blaine is; "we're going; this way--"
Which is how Blaine winds up up to his scrubbed-clean elbows in turkey guts.
"For the record, this is seriously disgusting," says Blaine, mostly good-natured, as he pulls something long and glistening out of the enormous turkey's chest cavity.
"That's what you get for volunteering for 'anything,' " says Kurt's stepmom, somehow wry and very cheerful at the same time as she settles a pie on a rack on the counter.
"I'm not touching turkey innards." Kurt makes an imperious gesture up and down his outfit with the wooden spoon that he has been using to mix the salad. "McQueen," he says.
Blaine doesn't point out that Kurt is wearing an apron over the gray skinny jeans and the blue cardigan; he's fairly sure that's beside the point. (Also being ignored right now: the fact that this is a pretty subdued ensemble by Kurt's non-uniform standards and it's still garnering some weird looks from the Hudson side of the family, and the fact that Blaine thinks about putting his hands over the two stylized handprints on Kurt's sweater every time he looks at them.)
Blaine glances down at his corduroys and plain sweater. "...Banana Republic," he says. "You win," and Kurt laughs. "Would you at least itch my nose?" he asks, trying to rub his face in his own shoulder. "This is driving me nuts."
"Hold still," Kurt orders, and he reaches over and scratches Blaine's nose with the non-utensil end of his wooden spoon. They smile at each other for several long seconds -- too long -- and then Kurt makes a quick, graceful spin on his heel, back to his salad. Blaine can see the back of his neck slowly flushing a dull red above the collar of his sweater and below his hairline.
"Thanks," says Blaine, and he catches sight of Carole watching their reflections in the window over the sink, both sides of her mouth quietly tipped up.
Then an aunt and two more female cousins sweep into the room, squealing and hugging Carole, and Kurt needs to be re-introduced after the wedding and Blaine needs to be introduced period, and the kitchen is packed full of helpers for the rest of the afternoon. Blaine ducks out of the heat and the mouthwatering smells after a while, and on his way back from the bathroom, gets distracted by Finn and two of his uncles (and a 20-something cousin) hollering at the Bengals game. Burt is glaring at the TV like it's going to magically make the Bengals' special teams suck less.
(Blaine thinks it might just work. Kurt's dad has been very cool, but is a little scary.)
"Come on!" complains Uncle Ned, throwing his arms up and putting his hands on his head.
"Did Pettrey just miss a field goal attempt from fifteen yards?" Blaine asks, dismayed, and all five men turn around and look at him over the back of the couch and the armchairs pulled up in front of the TV. He politely pretends he doesn't notice that Finn's eyebrows are furrowed so hard that that wrinkle might as well be the Grand Canyon. "I'm all for rooting for a former Buckeye, but that was just embarrassing."
"Sit down, son," Burt offers, into the protracted silence, and Blaine glances toward the kitchen.
"I was helping--" he says.
"C'mon; there're so many cooks in there, they won't even notice you're gone," Burt says. "Besides, you're makin' us all look bad in there."
"Totally," Finn agrees. "I think my mom's gonna expect me to start chopping things."
The crowd roars at something on the TV and everyone's heads snap back toward it. There's a general shout of derision from the entire audience; Burt barks, "What?"
"If you keep getting all excited, Kurt's gonna come out and make you stop watching," Finn warns Burt, who looks disgruntled but shoots a furtive glance toward the kitchen and sinks down lower in his chair.
Hiding his grin, Blaine figures he'll just stand and watch for a couple minutes -- but then Finn slides over on the ottoman, and it would be rude to pass up that offer, right?
Which is why Kurt finds him shouting with approval and high-fiving Finn a half an hour later.
Blaine is well into a spirited, cheerful (maybe slightly giddy) argument about current Broadway musicals and the comparative values of Next to Normal vs. In the Heights before he realizes that all conversation around them has halted and he and Kurt are being stared at. Kurt's exacting seating chart was disregarded early on in the meal (too impractical for what is essentially a pretty informal gathering), but Blaine had just snagged a plate and a seat beside Kurt at the end of the table, and he figured that was good enough.
Now, looking at Uncle Ned, Great Aunt Mildred, Steve-the-neighbor, somebody's grandparents, and Finn's hulking cousin, he thinks that they probably could have picked a more understanding spot. Kurt's immediate family may be a little unsure of what to do with all of this -- as was evidenced by the awkward, awkward negotiations last night about where Blaine was going to sleep -- but they're funny and warm and welcoming and they're trying, and they get Kurt. Blaine doesn't think that Burt or Carole or Finn would bat an eyelash at this conversation.
The Hudsons' extended family and the new neighbors, though, don't seem like they know what to make of it.
Kurt apparently comes to the same realization just after Blaine does; he falls silent, glancing from relative to relative.
"Next to Normal has Aaron Tveit," Blaine points out, looking right at Kurt, who quickly turns back toward him, blinking.
"--Did you see his guest appearance on Ugly Betty?" Kurt asks, slowly falling into their back-and-forth again.
"Um, yes," says Blaine brightly, and he's treated to a quick-but-worth-it smile. "I can't believe they didn't take advantage of what they had!"
"I know!" Kurt commiserates, almost talking over him. "How do you cast Aaron Tveit and not require him to sing?"
"The glasses?" Blaine asks consideringly, eyebrows up, and Kurt tucks his pointer finger against his thumb and holds up his hand, his other three fingers raised. Kurt apparently approved of the character's hipster glasses.
Blaine takes a bite of turkey and gravy (it's delicious) and then uses his fork to gesture enthusiastically. Screw the stares; full speed ahead.
"I'm sorry you were subjected to that," Kurt says stiffly the second they're alone. "I know it was awkward."
Blaine knows he shouldn't reach out to him, because that could send Signals and he's actually trying to keep a lid on those, with Kurt still adjusting to all the changes that have been going on in his life (and also with the fact that staying as a guest in Kurt's dad's house over Thanksgiving break is not the time to try to start anything) -- but he wants to. So he does it anyway, resting his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "You don't have anything to apologize for," he says firmly. "Besides, trust me. I've sat through family dinners that were ten times more awkward than that."
Kurt does that half-lipped smile thing that he does when he doesn't actually feel like smiling -- and he ignores the fact that Blaine said anything. "This is only the second time I've met any of them, and the general feel of the room tonight is much less intoxicated than it was at the rehearsal dinner and the reception--"
"It's okay, Kurt; really," Blaine says, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Maybe this is just my Pollyanna talking, but they actually seemed pretty well-meaning, generally. Just ... kind of confused."
Kurt laughs, a little thick but genuine-sounding. "It's just been me and my dad for a long time," he says. "I guess I kind of forgot that Carole and Finn come with a bunch of other people, too."
As if he heard his name or something, Finn comes around the corner at that very moment. He stops short and stares like a really gawky deer in the headlights when he finds himself faced with Blaine and Kurt standing close together in the stairs, Blaine's hand on Kurt's shoulder. "--Oh," says Finn, staring up at them. "I, uh -- sorry--" and before either of them can say a word, he ducks back out of the stairs.
Kurt rolls his eyes, looking much more sure of himself again, and Blaine laughs.
"This is the best Thanksgiving I've had in years, Kurt," he says, and Kurt's face pinks up nicely before he drags Blaine away to try the carb-free fat-free pie that he apparently baked as a giant middle finger to traditional holiday desserts.
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More seriously -- thank you!