Title: All These Places Feel Like Home
Rating: R
Warnings: language, sexual scenes
Pairings: Klaine
Spoilers: through season 3
Betas: aubrundammit & nachochang
Author's Note: This is an old story I found rolling around my hard drive that I'm posting now. It takes into account most, but not all, of season three canon. At the time I wrote it, I found a Klaine breakup/reunion so ridiculous I filed this away as a lost cause. Then I saw an even more ridiculous scenario in Season 4 and decided to find this story again.

The title comes from the Snow Patrol song "Chocolate." If you haven't heard that song, I encourage you to check out the lyrics. Not only do they perfectly describe this story, but it's an amazing, inspiring song about finding your adult self.

Autumn 2011

Blaine had always had an interest in politics. As a boy scout, he'd learned it was his civic duty to be an engaged member of his community. As a child observer, he'd listened to his parents' preach-to-the-choir conversations about the issues at the dinner table. When Cooper turned eighteen, he'd taken Blaine into the polling booth and shown him all the fancy buttons he could push one day. It hadn't escaped his notice as he'd grown up how he fit into the political scene. He'd been a victim of bullying and a hate crime; he'd transferred from the curriculum of an abysmal public school to an elite private school and back again. He didn't like confrontation much, but he initiated the same preach-to-the-choir political conversations he'd heard at the dinner table with anyone he thought might agree.

So when Burt Hummel decided to run for Congress, Blaine knew he had to be part of the campaign.

He showed up on the first day the campaign staff – meaning the Hudson-Hummels and Mr. Schue – got together in the Hummels' kitchen to discuss strategy with the Ohio Election Handbook tucked under his arm, wearing his most patriotic bowtie (red, white, and blue striped), and balancing a plate of buckeyes on his palms. The Hummels, Finn, and Mr. Schue gazed at him curiously from around the kitchen table, for some reason not expecting him to attend. He beamed brightly at them, and in his most chipper voice, asked:

"Who's ready to send a good man to Washington?"

His infectious optimism filtered around the room as smiles – and a faint oh-shucks blush from Burt. Kurt climbed out of his chair, took the buckeyes from Blaine with a shake of his head, and pulled him into a kiss a little too steamy for a family setting, but Blaine wasn't in the business of complaining when Kurt kissed him.

"You are such a dork," Kurt laughed, gesturing with the plate of buckeyes and tweaking Blaine's patriotic bowtie. "But I love you."

The words, spoken so casually in front of his family and their teacher, put a flutter in Blaine's chest. He darted forward for one more quick kiss, just because he could in the safety of this house with these people. Carole pulled up another chair around the table, and after some maneuvering to squish in, Blaine joined the ragtag amateur campaign staff that would get Burt Hummel elected. He took great pride in sitting around the table with people he loved and respected, and also that they devoured the chocolate covered peanut butter balls he'd spent hours making after school.

They didn't have much knowledge to go on in the early days. None of them had ever been involved in a political campaign before, unless they counted obsessive viewing of The West Wing – one of Blaine's all-time favorite shows – which he really didn't think counted. Yet there were some key similarities between Burt Hummel and the leaders viewers loved to love.

"Look. I'm just going to say what I believe. The voters either like it or they don't. I'm not running for office because it's my dream or because it's in my blood. I might end up with egg on my face, but I'm all right with that. At least I'll have stood up and said I don't think any of the other candidates can do what's best for this district. I'd rather be that guy than the one who does it from my armchair in front of the television on election night."

The room went silent as the familial campaign staff exchanged grins and glances. Mr. Schue stood up from where he'd been leaning over the table with his head hanging. He nodded sincerely.

"Burt, I think we just found your stump speech. Let's outline your platform and get to writing."

He grabbed a marker and hauled out the whiteboard tucked into the corner of the room for the past week. He erased the 'to do' list – mainly things to research about elections – and began taking notes on Burt's thoughts. Two hours later, and an emergency phone call to Jimmy John's when they realized it was eight o'clock and they hadn't had dinner yet, the key points of Burt Hummel's Congressional campaign had been hammered out. They were exhausted from arguing, debating, rewording, brainstorming, but also keyed up and ready to push through the night.

"Blaine, honey, you probably need to get home," Carole said, patting his shoulder.

"No way. My curfew isn't until eleven."

Blaine shuffled around the papers where he'd jotted down his notes whenever an idea occurred to him. He had blocked off a section of his biology notes.

"Now that we have a message in a form voters can understand, we should make campaign materials like lawn signs and buttons and posters. Then we need to get volunteers to make phone calls and go door-to-door telling everyone how great you are, Mr. Hummel."

Amusement met his pronouncement. He thought it was at his idea. He flushed, but rushed to defend his plan with as much passion in his voice as when he'd first discussed marriage equality with Kurt. He believed in Burt, and everyone else needed to also.

"We need a grassroots campaign to win the election, and the only way to get that is to go out into the community and convince people one-by-one that you're the best man for the job."

"Honey." Kurt caught his wildly gesticulating hand in mid-air and flashed him a fond look. "We all agreed that's one part of the campaign strategy. Why don't you and I work on some designs for those materials while the adults contact WOHN and talk to them about campaign law?"

All the way up to Kurt's room where he kept his art supplies, Blaine chattered about finding a bigger campaign headquarters with multiple phone lines, whether mailers or personal conversations were better, permits for a rally of some kind – everything he'd read about on the blogs he'd been following obsessively for a week.

They lost Finn somewhere on the stairs, which had Blaine spinning around in confused circles until Kurt pulled him inside his bedroom. The lean, firm length of Kurt's body pinned him to the back of the door, and he had a mouthful of Kurt's roving tongue before he'd registered they hadn't lost Finn at all; he'd been directed to get lost. Kurt's hands violated their anti-south-of-the-equator rule and squeezed his ass while he ducked his head to nip at Blaine's jaw.

"God, it's so hot when you assert yourself," he mumbled against Blaine's skin. "You get so passionate you forget to be self-conscious. It was like watching you perform down there. It turns me on so much."

Blaine's brain picked that moment to shut off entirely, and he couldn't be sorry later that they didn't get any poster designs done because he got to roll around Kurt's bed and make out for an hour until Finn – a really, really awesome brother even if he wasn't a very good friend – sounded the alarm that parents were coming upstairs so that they had enough time to separate, straighten their clothes, and smooth down Kurt's sheets. They couldn't hide their kiss-bruised lips, flushed cheeks, and heavy breathing, but they could at least cross their legs to hide their boners.

"I'm going on WOHN after Sue's corner tomorrow night," Burt announced. "Yes, Kurt, you can pick out my shirt, but try to make it say 'blue collar.' Also, I have veto power."

The thing Blaine loved most about Burt was that he'd didn't point out the obvious – that they had definitely not been making campaign posters – or side-eye and pretend like he had to protect anyone's virtue. His son made out with a boy frequently, and that was totally okay with Burt. God, he really, really, really freaking needed to be a Congressman.

"Watch the clock," Burt advised, before he left. "I don't want my most enthusiastic supporter to get grounded."

o o o

They had West Side Story rehearsals to balance with schoolwork and the campaign, and also Kurt's campaign for class President. For once, Blaine found a reason to appreciate McKinley's lower academic standards. He could finish all of his homework in study hall at the end of the day, leaving his evenings free for Broadway and Beltway.

Of course, there was the downside of having very little time alone with Kurt, but they shortly found a remedy for that.

Mr. Schue had found an empty office building in town to use as headquarters, and after hearing Burt's campaign promises, the owner knocked half off the rent and promised his vote. If Kurt and Blaine weren't in the auditorium (and Finn when he wasn't on the football field), they were at the new headquarters setting up tables, hooking up phones, receiving boxes of flyers, mailers, posters, signs, buttons, shirts, bumper stickers, and magnets all with the "Hummel for Congress" logo emblazed on them.

The new headquarters had several rooms that locked from the inside, and if the Hummels and Mr. Schue weren't there, Kurt had the only other key.

"W-We should probably get back out there," Blaine panted. His head fell back against the door as Kurt bit down and sucked on the skin over his clavicle.

They had recruited a small but dedicated group of volunteers after Burt's WOHN address to the Congressional district. He'd been invited to more and more rallies, mixers, and events since then, leaving Mr. Schue behind in Lima to manage (and Kurt to co-manage) the operations. Mr. Schue mostly dealt with the press, though, and had handed over coordinating volunteers to Kurt and Blaine. They were only teenagers, but mature and responsible teenagers when they weren't making out in dark rooms when they were meant to be working.

"What we should probably do is have a date night." Kurt pulled back and gazed through the half-light seriously. "We're not even a week away from West Side Story, and I know that means Rachel gets you more than I do right now, but I miss us going out and talking. Don't get me wrong. I love steamy make out sessions in semi-public places, but I feel like we've let ourselves get so busy that this is all we have time for. I miss you."

Blaine let his head drop. "I miss you too. I've gotten so caught up in the elections and the musical. You're right. We should have a politics-and-showtunes-free date this week. Do you want to come over after glee on Thursday? We can really watch a movie or put on some music and dance in my room."

"I do like watching you dance."

That turned out to be one of their more interesting dates. With campaigns and West Side Story banned from conversation, they ended up talking about ripping each other's clothes off and masturbation. Plus, Kurt wore a form fitting sweater dress that Blaine got to admire. More the "form fitting" part than the actual dress. If Blaine was being honest, he had a really hard time concentrating on anything but Kurt's form after Artie's indelicate admonishment about his virginity. Not that Blaine was going to act on that. God, what a stupid reason to have sex for the first time.

The next day was back to the campaigns and musical, but not quite as intensely, because Kurt and Blaine had talked about ripping each other's clothes off and masturbation. Just addressing the topic of sex – as in, not a please-leave-immediately-you-pervert or don't-touch-there conversation – had brought them a little closer, like two planetary bodies incapable of resisting the magnetic pull.

"Are you hitting that? Cause your boy is all kinds of dopey-eyed lately," Puck asked.

Kurt flashed him a stern glare and Blaine pretended not to hear as he went to the front of the room to address glee club. He knew he had to look lovesick because he felt lovesick all the time.

"I think Blaine has something to share with us," Mr. Schue said, turning the floor over.

"Thank you. Yes, I do. As you all know, there's going to be a special election to decide who will be the Representative from the Ohio 4th Congressional district. I'm organizing a table in the cafeteria to get everyone old enough signed up to vote. If you'd like to volunteer, we could use some more people to hand out voter registration packets. Just to be sure that everything is totally fair, I've asked a couple of the Cheerios not in New Directions or Troubletones to work at the table too. We'll be there all next week, if you're interested."

Kurt slipped his hand into the crook of Blaine's elbow when he sat back down. "Are you coming over after glee?"

Blaine shook his head regretfully. "I'm going to Dalton to give the Warblers West Side Story tickets."

"Tell everyone I said hello. Don't let them steal you away from me."

Blaine pulled a face. "Never."

In hindsight, Blaine was an idiot to think him being lovesick would repel everyone the way he thought it should. Also, he was an idiot because the words that came to him so easily when discussing politics utterly failed him when he needed them most in his personal life.

For the next week, the only politics Blaine had time for was the voter registration booth during lunch. It was tech week for West Side Story, so the entire cast spent long hours trying to perfect the musical before opening night. What little time Blaine did have free with Kurt, he utterly, utterly botched and seriously wanted to never think about again because if he'd thought accidental flirting and accidental dates made him an idiot, then the Scandals debacle made him a cretin of an unimaginable degree.

"You seem a little stressed, Blaine," Artie observed. "I take it you didn't heed my advice?"

"You know what, Artie? Your advice is the reason I'm tense!" Blaine snapped. The student director arched his eyebrows, and Blaine huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of his noise. "I'm sorry. That's not fair of me. I'm the one who screwed up."

"Nevertheless, I am your director, and it's my job to make sure you're at the top of your game out there. So, what's on your mind?"

Blaine considered ignoring him, but Artie was one of the few guys in glee who didn't resent him for some incomprehensible reason. "I'm having trouble balancing everything I care about. There's school and Kurt and performing and the campaigns. Every time I think one of the things I love is going really great, I drop the ball somewhere else."

"A man can do a lot, but he can't do it all. You have to choose what's most important to you. I hope that's West Side Story this week, because you are a really talented performer, Blaine, and I'd hate to see you give up when you're so close to proving that to a sold out house."

It would have been simplest to give up the campaigns, or at least scale back how much he worked in Burt's Congressional office, but it left a pit in his stomach to think about not throwing himself full tilt into getting Burt elected. Ohio and the United States would stand a much better chance with Burt Hummel casting votes in Washington. But he'd also made a commitment to West Side Story, and he loved performing more than anything else in the world, except for Kurt.

Rachel didn't let him ruminate too long. She wanted to practice Tonight again. It turned out to be a good idea. Blaine had had some trouble with the lower notes on that song, but he nailed it on opening night, so he'd have to thank her for pushing him. Not in front of Kurt, though, since she was still Presidential competition.

"We's be goin' to Breadstix!" Santana shouted, after the curtain fell and the cast celebrated backstage while they changed into their own clothes and hung up their costumes for tomorrow night's performance.

Blaine hung back, too caught up in his wallowing to spend time in a crowded room, especially when Kurt didn't want to hold his hand. His amazing boyfriend, though, gave him the perfect opportunity to apologize and forgave him. With Kurt beside him, Blaine felt like all his priorities aligned properly without the slightest disruption. What had felt impossible yesterday could be solved with creative thinking today.

Nothing else mattered the rest of the night as they lay together sharing themselves completely, and then exchanging lovesick looks, butterfly kisses, and touches of fingertips until Blaine's parents came home and Kurt had to leave. It wasn't fair at all that they couldn't spend the night together. It wasn't fair that time went on without them and ticked away the hours they'd lain together in bed forgetting about the world.

When they met up before Saturday's matinee and shared a kiss in the darkness backstage, time and life going on didn't seem quite so terrible. Everything and nothing had changed between them. They were still Kurt and Blaine, but more so than they'd ever been before.

"I'm torn between making phone calls after school on Monday and using those few free hours after school to fight with your layers," Blaine mumbled.

Kurt chewed on his bottom lip, and that made up Blaine's mind that Monday was for battling couture clothing. Unfortunately, Kurt had a different answer in mind.

"While I would love to do nothing but you all the time," he blushed to his ears and dropped is eyes as he said it, and Blaine started to beg him to please, please, please do nothing but him all the time, "I actually do want to see my dad elected to Congress."

"So do I," Blaine sighed. "Life is cruel for making us choose between sex and … anything else."

o o o

As Burt garnered more attention from the local media and began gaining a footing in the polls, more people began to take notice. A Democrat hadn't won the Ohio 4th since 1933, and yet Burt Hummel was poised to take the lead in the polls. The DNC couldn't help itself; it had to send aid in the form of professional campaign fundraisers, strategists, and speechwriters.

Monday afternoon found Kurt and Blaine sitting across a phone bank from each other dialing numbers on an automated list spat out by a computer and playing footsie under the table while they listened to the telephones ringing as Ohioans' caller ID allowed them to avoid answering political calls or else the dial tone after being hung up on.

"Hello, my name is Blaine Anderson. I'm calling on behalf of Burt Hummel, a candidate for the House of Representatives. Would you have a few minutes to talk to me today?"

Now that Blaine had a live person on the phone, Kurt withdrew his feet to let his boyfriend concentrate. Blaine pouted, and Kurt shoved a fist into his mouth to keep from giggling as he dialed another number.

"Oh, no, ma'am," Blaine said emphatically. "I've known Mr. Hummel personally for over a year, and I can assure you, he does not have a baboon heart."

Kurt missed a beat in his greeting on the telephone and passed Blaine an incredulous look. Blaine rolled his eyes and gestured at the telephone, as if to say 'some people.' The person on Kurt's line must have hung up, because he shrugged and crossed the number off his list. He began dialing again.

Blaine pressed his lips together and threw an apologetic look at Kurt before he answered another question. "I'm friends with his son."

Kurt's fingers paused over the number pad, and he sighed deeply. They knew how Kurt's sexuality and his relationship with Blaine could be used against Burt, and probably sometime soon one of the other candidates would make sexuality a hot button issue in the election. No one had outright asked Kurt to go back into the closet, but the new strategists had made it clear to Kurt and Blaine – not surprisingly when Burt was not in the room – that there was a delicate line to walk in a conservative district, and to cross that line to make a political statement would be to throw the election.

"Kurt, I'm sorry," Blaine apologized, as soon as he hung up the phone.

"No, don't be."

Kurt breathed deeply and jerked his head towards one of the empty rooms at the back of headquarters where they sometimes snuck off to make out. Blaine followed him immediately just a step behind, but even that was too much, so he reached out and gathered Kurt's hand into his. When the door was sealed behind them, Kurt released a shuddering breath he hadn't wanted to share with a room full of strangers. It tore at Blaine's heart that he hurt, but he felt so privileged to be the one person Kurt would show his vulnerabilities to.

"Blaine, if you've changed your mind …."

"I haven't. Kurt, we talked about this, and I feel the same way I always have. This state and this country – this world – needs good men and women leading us into the future. If not rocking the boat will make that happen, I'm willing to do that."

"I can't help feeling like this situation – I'm – pushing you back in the closet."

"You're not. No one is." He hesitated, almost afraid to ask because the answer could end all of this right now, but more afraid of the boy he loved hurting in silence. "Do you feel like you're being pushed back in the closet?"

Kurt snorted. "My closet full of sequins and boas? I can't pass, Blaine. I never had a closet."

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

Kurt huffed. "Why do you always push when I don't want you to? But whenever I hope you do, you just sit there cute as ever with that adorable smile that makes it impossible for me to be mad at you?"

"You mean this smile?" He flashed the exact one. Kurt huffed again. "Come on, Kurt. Talk to me. We've always been honest with each other, and I still want that. We took a huge step together, Kurt. We gave each other everything. I don't want our relationship to be a trade off – physical for emotional, or the other way around. I'm kind of selfish. I want all of you."

"I want all of you too." He sighed. "Okay. Yes, I do feel pressured to not draw attention to my sexuality. Not by anyone close to my dad or the volunteers. I think over half of them actually are here because my dad is a blue collar guy proud of his gay son. It's the smarmy DNC people. They're always rattling off polling data and voter profiles, and I know all of that is important, but when they talk about me, I'm not a person. It's always this percentage would vote for a candidate with a gay child, this percentage wouldn't. I'm a pawn in their games, and they act like everything about me – down to the way I was born – is up for negotiation. I just got to the point where I'm comfortable being a unicorn, and now I'm back to wishing I wasn't."

It took all his willpower not to gather his boyfriend into a tight embrace and never let go, but he let Kurt curl into himself and work out for himself when he wanted to be held.

"I, for one, am really glad that you are a unicorn. It's the reason I fell in love with you, and even before I realized how I felt, I loved that about you. Everyone who knows you is awed by your unicorn."

Kurt swallowed a laugh. "You are so …." He shook his head, trying to fight off a smile. "What I think you're trying to say in your geeky-charming way is that if I survived getting crowned prom queen, I can handle not having the tiara too."

"No, not at all. But I like the words you put in my mouth."

Blaine leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend lightly. Kurt trapped him in a welcomed hug, and they swayed together in the center of the room.

"Blaine? Your dad makes you feel like this every day, doesn't he?"

He mumbled into the fabric of Kurt's jacket. "Yes."

"God, I'm so sorry. The Hummel family is supposed to be a safe place for you."

"It is," Blaine promised. "It doesn't hurt as much coming from people who don't know me."

Kurt made a choked sound and held him tighter.

o o o

A week before the election, Blaine's prediction that one of the other candidates would bring sexuality into the mix came true, but not in the way he'd thought. He'd thought for sure it would be about Kurt (and maybe himself), and Burt would come out swinging. Burt did come out swinging, but to defend Santana.

"That stupid pizza guy can't win this election!" Rachel shouted.

She pounded her fist on the top of a yard sign that refused to sink into the ground. Blaine came to her rescue and left her to rant with Kurt some more. Ever since they'd made up, Rachel had been coming along on their door-to-door push to hand out flyers about Burt's campaign and put up yard signs to get his name out there. By strict instruction, she wasn't allowed to speak to anyone who answered the door, and as she was still trying to placate Kurt, she did a good job at staying quiet until the door closed again.

"Outing a high school student is just so sleazy," she went on.

"It was a desperate attempt by Salazar to gain a few more points in the polls," Blaine answered. "And he did, but not as much as he hoped. It's not much of a victory, especially not for Santana, but it's the only silver lining we have."

They moved on to the next house, so Rachel pressed her mouth into a tight smile and paused on the step behind Kurt and Blaine as they rang the doorbell and waited. She disappeared behind them, which was their intention. If no one looked at her, she wouldn't be tempted to rant inappropriately and hurt the campaign.

"Hello, I'm Kurt. This is Blaine. We're coming around today to pass out information on Burt Hummel who's running for the House of Representatives. Have you decided who you're voting for yet?"

"Hummel's got some sick perversions. Who marries a donkey?"

Kurt's cheeks flushed red, and Rachel made a sound like she wanted to object, so Blaine jumped in with an answer.

"Some of the attack ads you've seen have been overblown. Mrs. Hummel is a very intelligent, sophisticated lady, and comparing her to a donkey was unfair and cruel. If you'd like to take a look at one of our flyers, you'll see that Mr. Hummel's campaign is pro-education and pro-equality …."

The woman eventually took one of the flyers, but obviously only to get them off her stoop. They trudged down the sidewalk a little less buoyant. No one was home at the next house, so they left a flyer around the door handle and moved on.

"This is more fun when we find people who are voting for your dad," Rachel observed.

"But not really the point."

When they got back to headquarters two hours later to drop off the lawn signs in the store room, the volunteers had boxes of mailers ready to be delivered to the post office. Blaine and Kurt lugged them out to the car while Rachel pretended she had to go to the bathroom again to get out of it.

"She is unbelievable," Kurt grumbled.

"Are you really going to name her Vice President when you win?"

"When I win? If only your wishing made it so. But, yes, if I win, she'll be my Vice President. God knows why."

With the last of the boxes in the trunk, Blaine leaned against the side of the car. "Because she's your best friend."

"She's my best girl friend, yes, but she's not the one I want when things get tough or go wrong. She can't cheer me up with a smile, and she's definitely not okay with me putting words into her mouth, even if those words comfort me."

"Oh? And who might this lucky person be who gets to see the real Kurt Hummel all the time?" Blaine batted his lashes playfully.

Kurt put on an innocent face. "Finn, of course." Blaine laughed brightly, and Kurt managed to keep his straight face for a few more seconds. "Who else would I go to for sage advice and profound wisdom than my stepbrother who spends time contemplating how bad he would feel in the event he started a zombie virus Apocalypse?"

They were still laughing when Mr. Schue stuck his head outside and called them in. "Burt's on TV!"

They raced inside and caught the tail end of an interview. A camera crew had showed up at the tire shop, catching Burt in his coveralls streaked with grease. He screamed everyman, but spoke with such steadfast nobility he could have been a knight in shining armor from the old courtly romances. The DNC strategists looked smug, so clearly they'd orchestrated it.

"Voters have to ask themselves who they want in office. Do you want the candidate who only stands against something? Do you want the candidate who resorts to cheap shots at high school kids? Or do you want the candidate who believes in something and isn't afraid to stand up and say it?"

"And that," Mr. Schue said, with a sharp look at the DNC guys, "is why Burt Hummel is going to be our next Congressman!"

The volunteers cheered and chattered excitedly as they wandered away to their stations again.

"Just think," Rachel said excitedly, "in a week, we're going to be having a double victory party!"

o o o

They did not have a double victory party on election day.

Burt and Carole went to the polls in the morning with WOHN cameras following them, and then they went to headquarters while they waited for the results to come in that night. There was nothing else for a candidate to do. The campaigning had been done. It was all about results and managing any crisis that arose, which the campaign staff took care of, but Burt wanted to be there for the news cameras that came to take footage for the noon newscast.

Meanwhile, the students at McKinley took turns leaving class to vote for their President. Naturally, Blaine voted for Kurt and couldn't resist drawing a little heart next to his name because he was in love and allowed to do stuff like that. Kurt was a nervous wreck, of course, but everything seemed to be going fine despite Jacob Ben Israel's stupid straw poll. That is, Blaine thought everything was fine until Kurt found him after school.

He was a mess of tears and rapid-fire sentences that Blaine didn't quite catch at first as they hurried out to Kurt's car where they could maybe hold each other like a normal couple who didn't have to worry about homophobic bullies. They thought Kurt had cheated. Burt had been called down to the school. Kurt had been disqualified and faced suspension.

The seedy underbelly of politics couldn't be avoided even in high school, but Kurt didn't need cynicism right now, so Blaine opened his arms and rubbed his boyfriend's back while whispering encouragements into his ear.

"You were the best candidate, Kurt. You stood up and said what no one at this school has ever been brave enough to say. I've been proud of you since the first day I met you, but never so much as during the debate. You are an inspiration, Kurt."

"Inspiration isn't going to get me into NYADA."

"Of course it will. That's what audiences want from their actors, Kurt. They watch plays and movies and television to be inspired. And to watch pretty people do naughty things, but you're in luck because you are gorgeous, and you look so hot when you do naughty things."

"Blaine!" Kurt slapped his arm, but there was a ghost of a smile somewhere deep beneath his heart eyes. "Oh, okay. Fine. Say something else ridiculous or risqué and make me smile. We have to go to headquarters for the election results, and if my dad wins I don't want to be a weepy mess for all the wrong reasons."

"Now you've put me on the spot. I don't have anything. I'm sorry. Unless you want a handjob."

Kurt's eyes widened comically, and then he caught the intention behind Blaine's words and let out a nervous chuckle. Blaine lifted a brow.

"Oh. So you really do want a handjob? All right. Let's go back to your house since there's no one there."

"You're so over the top."

"So you don't want a handjob?"

"I didn't say that!" Kurt rushed, and then colored up when Blaine laughed and darted forward to kiss him. He took Blaine's hand over the gearshift as they pulled out of the lot. "I'm glad I have you here with me, Blaine."

o o o

The volunteers had decked out the campaign headquarters with red, white, and blue striped paper streamers around the giant posters of Burt hanging on the wall declaring "Hummel for Congress" and slogans along the bottom. Whether Burt gave a victory or concession speech tonight, he would do it in front of a room full of supporters.

The staff and volunteers stayed in the main lobby watching the ticker scroll on WOHN while the Hudson-Hummels, Blaine, Mr. Schue, and Ms. Pillsbury sat together in a private room with the television on mute. No one said too much, except Burt and Mr. Schue who read through both drafts of the speech together. Sometimes, Blaine thought he saw dejection on Kurt's face from the corner of his eye, but it disappeared whenever he glanced over. He did the only thing he could: hold Kurt's hand in silent support.

At eight o'clock, Mr. Schue's phone rang. He stepped outside to take the call and slipped in again a moment later. Everyone waited with baited breath.

"That was the Ohio Election Board. They're ready to call the election." He face split into a smile. "Congratulations, Congressman Hummel!"

The noise outside as Rod Remington read the election results drowned out the cheering inside the private room. Burt pulled everyone into bear hugs and held his breath so he wouldn't start crying when he tried to say thank you. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury left to go organize the impending speeches, and recognizing a family moment for what it was, Blaine sidled to the door. Carole caught him, however, and pulled him to her side. Whether she'd done it to stop him from leaving or out of instinct, he didn't know.

"I couldn't have done this without any of you. All of you, my family, inspired me to do this, and you'll inspire me to do the best job I can in Washington. I love you guys."

They formed a tight circle of hugs, their heads bent together with silent words, while the party kicked into high gear outside. Finally, the disappointment had retreated from Kurt's face. Blaine didn't kid himself that it was gone for good, but at least he could forget about it for tonight.

Burt and Carole sent the teenagers out to find places at the front of the crowd. Journalists would be covering his victory speech, and they wanted some photographs of Burt's family. One of the DNC strategists, a man named Peter, took Blaine by the elbow and steered him away from Kurt and Finn.

"Whoa. Hey, dude. Where are you taking Blaine?" Finn asked. "We're supposed to go up front."

"The Congressman's family, yes. I'm sure Blaine will find you when the cameras stop rolling."

"Umm. I'm pretty sure Burt wants Blaine with us. I mean, he just called him family and said he couldn't have done this without him, so I kind of think he's expecting to see Blaine in the front row."

At times like this, Blaine really didn't know what to make of Finn. He could be incredibly supportive and good-natured one minute, and then an insensitive jerk the next. His bipolar personality had a definite home/school split, but all the same, it confused Blaine.

"It's fine, Finn," Blaine said.

He shook Peter's arm off his elbow and walked away on his own. Kurt must have succinctly explained the situation, however, because not fifteen seconds later, he heard Finn exclaim:

"Not cool, dude. I'm telling Burt."

"Finn!" Kurt shouted, but it was too late. Burt had already come out of the office looking about ready to shoot fire from his eyes. Peter took a staggering step backwards, and luckily for him, Burt was presently more concerned with Blaine and Kurt.

"Dad, it's fine," Kurt rushed to say. "Blaine and I talked about it, and we understand it's not politic to –"

"Do you think I care what's 'politic'?" Burt demanded. "I care about you two and not letting anyone make you feel like there's anything about yourselves that you have to hide. We have been given a great opportunity to make this district and this country a better place. We're not wasting it by hiding what the people of Ohio and the United States need to see. Personally, I think it'd do them a heaping portion of good to see two boys who love each other on the front page of the newspaper."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged happy grins and nodded at Burt to signal their understanding.

"Thank you, dad."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. – Congressman."

Burt made a sound in the back of his throat. "It's time for you to start calling me Burt, and I'm not taking that 'Dalton gentleman' excuse. You are not calling me Congressman at my own dinner table and in my own tire shop."

"Yes, sir."

Burt glared at him, but Kurt laughed brightly.

"He is infuriating like that."

They joined the party holding hands. Champagne and sparkling cider flowed freely as everyone celebrated their victory and campaign staff took their turns giving speeches thanking the volunteers, their colleagues, and Burt. They toasted the people of Ohio's 4th Congressional time and again. For a group of just over twenty, they made a rowdy crowd. At last, Mr. Schue came on stage to announce Burt.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the man of the hour, Ohio's newest Congressman … Burt Hummel!"

Burt walked onto stage to hearty applause. He struggled with allowing his supporters to fully express their joy and tried to quiet them much too soon. His humility played as self-conscious chuckles and headshakes while he held his palms up.

"Thank you. Thank you."

Finally the crowd went silent and listened. Blaine spied the photographer darting around the stage and crowd snapping pictures, and a journalist with a press pass hanging around her neck holding up a Dictaphone in the front row.

"I never dreamed I'd be standing up here as your Congressman. I was born and raised here, I went to junior college, and I took over the family business right here in Lima. I started a family here with my late wife, and I extended my family here with my beautiful wife Carole. Some of you who voted for other candidates are probably wondering how a guy like me got voted Congressman." Burt paused, nodding. "I'm right there with you."

The audience chuckled appreciatively. Burt settled into a more serious tone for the second half of his acceptance speech.

"You've heard all about my campaign platform. I'm a strong supporter of education, equality, and the men and women in the armed forces. A majority of you liked what I had to say, and you voted for me to represent you in Congress. To those of you who voted for another candidate, I respect your decision, and I understand you might have some reservations tonight. I'll address every one of your concerns. For tonight, let's start with this: I give you my word that I'll be the best Congressman for this district I can be."

As Blaine clapped with the crowd until his palms stung, he wondered if Burt had an off switch or if motivational speeches were his default. He must have been one hell of a quarterback, and he'd be a force to be reckoned with on the House floor.

Blaine had never stood more in awe of a man in his life.

o o o

Blaine had thought with the elections over and West Side Story ended that his life might get a little less complicated. He knew Sectionals would require a lot of work, especially since so many great singers had defected to the Troubletones, but he hadn't anticipated the emotional knife-in-the-gut that accompanied Sam Evans's return triggering all his pent-up anger towards the guys in glee who still hadn't accepted him after three months of being teammates. Nor the whiplash-inducing hairpin turn that ended up with Finn and Sam becoming his friends and Mr. Schue featuring him in two incredible songs. A first place win at Sectionals was the icing on the proverbial cake.

"I feel like my life has switched from angst-riddled soap opera to feel-good family comedy in an hour," Blaine said.

Kurt grinned easily from where he leaned against the bank of lockers beside Blaine's. "I knew you'd work it out eventually. You're such a boy, though, always shoving people."

"Yeah, my temper isn't pretty."

"No, but it is kind of hot." Blaine choked on air. "What? I told you. I like it when you assert yourself. You're so masculine, and I … can't continue this in the hallway at school. Hold that thought."

"Uh, yeah."

Blaine pulled his history book from his locker, and they made their way down the corridor towards the corner where they'd have to part in two minutes to make it to their respective classrooms in time.

"So I was thinking," Blaine started. "Whatever happened to that PFLAG chapter you and Karofsky started?"

"He transferred, and he was the only person who came besides us and the glee club. I figured there wasn't reason to keep it going if we see each other in glee everyday anyway. Why do you ask?"

"We talk about these really important issues all the time, but don't we have a bigger responsibility? You obviously saw that last year when you started the group. I just … I want to do something. I can't stand just sitting around and talking anymore, especially if the only people I'm talking to already agree with me."

"I'm impressed with your altruism and maturity. What did you have in mind?"

"To start with, I joined TrevorSpace to virtually encourage those gay teens who don't show up at my school to spy on my glee club." Kurt bumped his shoulder and smiled widely. "And I think I'll start a vigorous e-mail writing campaign, plus now that I know a Congressman I can tell him my thoughts in person. It's not a lot, but telling my own story is all I know how to do right now."

Kurt stopped at the corner where they had to part ways.

"It is a lot, Blaine. We're the products of a culture that tells us we're not normal. We're bullied, we're taunted, we're victims of hate crimes. Our stories aren't easy to share, but if we don't, we'll be invisible too."

Blaine looked at the floor and nodded with a growing smile. "So … does this count as me asserting myself?"

With a sigh, Kurt spun Blaine around by the shoulders and nudged him down the hallway. "Go to class, honey."

"It totally does, doesn't it?"

Kurt gave him a little wave as he backed into class. Yeah, it totally counted as asserting himself. Blaine beamed the whole way to class. He felt exhilarated and free. He had Kurt, glee club, and a purpose. His life wasn't perfect, but he thought it was close enough to think of it as gloriously happy. He took his seat in class and almost tried to pay attention, but his happiness carried him away to fantasies full of bachelor chalets in black and white and promise rings made of bubblegum wrappers.