Author's notes: Still don't have anything new as far as chapters for the stories posted on this site go, but I thought you all might like this one that I finished up last night. I have no idea where to categorize it because it all depends on interpretation, but oh well. Guessing will have to do. Enjoy.

John Anderson very much liked to think of himself as a kind, accepting human being. He was not a bigot. Far from it, in fact. He was simply uncomfortable with gays. A lot of people were, and he wasn't going to rail against them like those pundits on TV. But it really was very simple: a man could love another man, like a bond between brothers or a father loving his son, but there should be no romantic ties between them. Such behavior was deviant, immoral. And really, he was fine with it so long as they kept to themselves and away from the general population.

And he was very sure—probably more so than anything else in his life thus far—of one simple truth: his son was not gay.

Blaine was a little different, sure, what with his fascination with those odd fashion magazines and show tunes, but he was just as much a man as the rest of them, if maybe a little short, but that was simply due to his mother's genes coming through. Nothing wrong with that. And so when Blaine had quietly announced to them at the dinner table that he was homosexual, John refused to believe it. He wouldn't say it to Blaine's face, but there was no way his son was gay, and that was that.

It was a phase, something he was sure to grow out of, and hey, everybody experiments at that age, right? Well, maybe not quite as young as Blaine, but he was close enough to that certain age that a year or two really shouldn't matter.

Besides, wasn't it scientifically proven that gays tended to raise other gays? John was anything but homosexual, so really, there was no reason to believe that any of that nonsense had gotten into his son. He'd kept him well clear of homosexual influence with the exceptions of those musicals his wife sometimes made them go to.

Blaine wasn't gay. He liked football and video games just like any other boy.

He was perfectly normal.

End of story.

But as much as he loved his son, John really could have done without knowing the exact details of the boy's sex life. He knew that Blaine was a teenage boy, and that his hormones were running rampant, but he hadn't quite expected to walk in through the door that fateful Tuesday afternoon to the sound of his son having (rather loud) sex in the safety of his bedroom.

He'd known that Blaine was home due to the start of spring break, and he'd known that the boy would have been alone as his mother was working that afternoon. John really should have thought to call first before leaving the office early to let Blaine know he was coming home. It probably would have spared him this particularly awkward soundtrack of Blaine's sexual discovery.

However, as uncomfortable as it was to have definitive evidence that his son was indeed a sexual being, John had to admit that he was just a bit relieved that he'd been right. There was no way the person with Blaine was not a girl, not with a voice like that, and he smiled a little as he gently shut the door and headed back out to the car, careful not to disturb the pair should they hear him (though really, how could they when they were carrying on like that?). He was pretty damn proud of his boy.

Blaine's girl certainly seemed to have a good pair of lungs on her from the sound of it, and John's smile broadened at the thought. She was probably a singer or something from that all-girls school near Dalton, and they'd probably met at one of their little singing events. A good fit, he mused. At least they were enthusiastic.

See? All it took was a little time. His son's little period of sexual deviance had passed.

Blaine wasn't gay. And this (admittedly) awkward event had proven it. His son was perfectly normal.

Perfectly straight.

He wasn't really hungry anymore, now that he thought about it. He pushed the little bits of tomato around in his bowl and watched the liquid mix itself into an even smoother texture. Maybe he was just imagining things. But this really was starting to get weird.

Blaine was startled out of his reverie by something warm and soft against his cheek, and he looked up to see Kurt leaning over the table, a gentle smile stretched across his face. The physical affection between them was still somewhat new, but he found that he was rather enjoying Kurt's soft pecks and holding hands when they walked down the hallway, among other things.

"Hey, babe," Kurt said softly. He sat down and bent over his crossed arms, fixing his blue gaze on the boy in front of him. "You do know that stirring that bisque isn't going to make it disappear any faster, right?"

Blaine sighed and let his spoon fall from his fingers to slide against the smooth inside of the bowl. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"Really. I never would have guessed you were capable of deep thought."

Blaine smiled and playfully shoved Kurt away from him. "Oh, shut up."

"Seriously, though, what's wrong?"

"It's my dad."

"What about him?"

"I think he knows."

Kurt's face bunched together in confusion. "Knows about what? That's one of the vaguest things I've heard from you yet, and you're the boy who still doesn't quite know the difference between friendly and flirty."

Blaine's face suddenly lit up in a heated blush and he became far more interested in his soup once more. "I think he knows about us."

"Okay…but I don't really see why that's such a bad thing. I know you told me that he was kind of in denial about you being gay, but if he knows you have a boyfriend then that should cement it for him, right? Unless he's being a real jerk about it. He isn't, is he?"

Blaine shook his head, but the movement was almost imperceptible with how far he had his chin tucked in toward his chest. Kurt simply breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, then I don't see what the problem is."

If anything, Blaine's face grew even redder as he mumbled something into his shirt.

Kurt sighed again and leaned forward to rest his head on his hand. "You know, Blaine, I really can't understand you when you do that. Speak up."

"I think he knows we're having sex."

Kurt shot up in his seat, his own face coloring, and he glanced around quickly, hoping no one had overheard that. "Oh. Um, how—I mean, why would you think that?"

"He's been acting…I don't know, odd."

"Odd, how?"

Blaine threw up his hands dramatically. "I don't even know. Just different. Congratulatory, almost. It's weird." His voice lowered to almost a whisper.

"Like, what's changed? I mean—"

"I found condoms on my nightstand the other day. And I know I didn't put them there." He leaned in close, his face even redder than before. "You know I keep them in my sock drawer," he whispered.

Kurt's blush darkened, creeping up to color the tips of his ears, and he looked away, trying to pretend that they weren't having this conversation.

Blaine kept going, completely oblivious to Kurt's rising embarrassment. "And I've started getting a higher allowance, my curfew has practically been eliminated, all sorts of things. It's like he's celebrating that I've finally lost my virginity."

Kurt's gaze crept back over to his boyfriend. "You don't think he saw us, do you? Because I think I'm going to die of shame right now if that's true. Spontaneously combust. Just like that."

"Heard us? Maybe. Saw? There's no way. We've been far too careful for that." He lowered his voice even further. "But let's face it, Kurt. You can get pretty loud."

Kurt buried his face in his hands. "Oh god, just kill me now. You did not just say that. We are not having this conversation. It's just an unpleasant dream."

Blaine shrunk down uncomfortably in his seat and looked down at his shoes. "As much as I would like that, I'm pretty sure this is real. Very real." He swallowed and looked back up, placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder to get his attention. "Kurt?"

Kurt looked over at him, his face a painful wince of embarrassment. "Yeah?"

"I think it's time I introduced you to my parents."

"Blaine? Darling, is something wrong? You've barely touched your dinner."

Blaine stilled and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Okay. You can do this. Just breathe. He laid his fork down on his plate and looked up at the concerned faces of his parents.

"I, um, I actually had something I wanted to ask you."

His father's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he said nothing, waiting for Blaine to continue. He fervently hoped that his son wasn't going to ask for a new car. That was supposed to be a surprise for later that month. He even had the perfect model picked out, and there would be no assembly required on this one. It would be an important father-son bonding moment, and he'd finally get the chance to tell Blaine how proud he was that he'd given up this whole gay nonsense.

"What is it, Blaine?" His mother's voice was a little harder than before, now that she knew he wanted something. She never liked surprises, and Blaine had the nasty habit of springing them on her and her husband at the dinner table.

Blaine faltered, his nerve fleeing. The longer he looked at his parents' faces, the harder this became. Come on, Blaine. Focus. It's just Kurt. They'll love him, just watch. "I was wondering if I could bring someone over for dinner Thursday night."

Mr. Anderson perked up at those words, and he couldn't keep a grin from spreading across his face. This was perfect. He could finally meet this mystery girl Blaine had been hiding from them. "Of course, Blaine. Is there any special occasion?" His smile widened at the slight blush that bled into his son's cheeks.

"N-no reason. I just, um, I just want to have someone over is all." He stared down at the tablecloth. Why was this so hard? They were being supportive, and here he was, about two seconds from vomiting all over his shoes from nervousness.

"That would be lovely, sweetheart. You hardly have friends over anymore."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Though this isn't really a friend," he mumbled, picking up his fork once more to poke at his food and doing his best to avoid eye contact. His mother gasped delightedly and clasped her hands over her mouth. A date! She was going to meet her baby's other half. She shot an excited look at her husband, but he was too busy studying their son to notice.

John watched Blaine's bashful motions with interest, his grin growing ever wider. He couldn't be prouder. His little boy had become a man. And now he was going to meet the girl who'd set his boy on the right path. He couldn't wait.

Apparently Blaine couldn't wait either. John knew how hard it was to control one's hormones at that age, but he hadn't thought his son to be gutsy enough to bring the girl over in the middle of the night.

John had lately been suffering from occasional bouts of insomnia, and a little milk usually helped him to relax. As he gently closed the door to the refrigerator, he heard hushed voices rise up from the heating vent. Blaine had someone in his room.

John crept closer, trying to be as light on his feet as possible so as not to alert the teens to his presence.

"Shh, they'll hear us." Blaine sounded as though he was having trouble keeping the laughter out of his voice, and John could only smile when he heard the girl's whispery giggle in response.

"No, they won't. They're fast asleep. Now come here." There was more muffled laughing, a quiet moan, and John could hear bodies shifting on his son's mattress.

Blaine's girl was forceful. John liked the idea. His son had chosen a strong girl who knew what she wanted. Excellent.

He froze when the two quieted after several minutes of what sounded like enthusiastic kissing. "I should probably get back," the girl muttered softly, and John quickly downed his milk when he heard Blaine agree. He didn't want his son to know that he'd caught him sneaking his girl into the house. He bolted for the stairs as quietly as he could as the kids got themselves together.

He paused at the banister and stilled, his curiosity getting the better of him. He was officially meeting her tomorrow night, but he just had to catch a glimpse of the girl who had stolen Blaine's heart, the girl who set his son straight. He folded himself back into the shadows and waited with baited breath for the kids to emerge.

And they did. But something was wrong. She looked nothing like the pretty little thing he'd pictured. Where was the long hair? The flowing skirts? He stood frozen on the stairs as the teens snuck out the front door and disappeared into the night.

John really should have been more upset at how adept Blaine seemed to be at sneaking out of the house, but he couldn't get over what little he'd seen of Blaine's girlfriend. He slowly trudged up the stairs, wracking his brain for an explanation. Maybe she was a tomboy, and she had one of those pixie cuts or whatever. Like the kind that girl from those Harry Potter movies had gotten not too long ago. Yeah.

He let out a sigh of relief as he climbed back into bed. Blaine's girl just wasn't as feminine as he'd hoped, and that was fine. She was still a girl, and that was what really mattered in the end.

Because no son of John Anderson's was going to be gay. It was simply the way things were, plain and simple.

He smiled as he settled down into sleep. He'd meet this girl tomorrow, and everything would work out right. He had complete faith in that.

So. Thursday. Blaine straightened the knot on his uniform's tie for the seventeenth time, searching himself for any tiny imperfection.

"You do know that's not going to help, right? You've fixed that thing so many times I'm surprised the fabric has just given up and died already," Kurt quipped from his spot on his roommate's bed. "Why are you so nervous? It's just dinner."

Blaine eyed him through the mirror and frowned at the smug grin on his boyfriend's face. "Why are you so calm? I'm freaking out, Kurt. So bad that I'm trying not to cry right now."

Kurt rose and walked over to him, letting out a low chuckle as he wrapped his arms around the shorter boy. "Because you're adorable when you're nervous," he murmured softly, placing a light kiss on Blaine's ear. He looked up and Blaine studied the boy's smiling face in the mirror before him. "Everything's going to be fine."

It was Thursday night. And John was finally going to meet Blaine's girlfriend. He straightened the collar of his button-down shirt and nodded at his reflection in the mirror.

Blaine had called not ten minutes ago, letting them know that he'd be home in an hour or so. Brenda had been damn near ecstatic. Blaine had never brought someone home before, and she'd been cooking like a madwoman since Blaine's call, she was so excited. She wanted to make the best impression on this girl.

He smiled as he waltzed from the bedroom to the stairs, wrapped up in the memories of when he'd brought Brenda home to meet his parents. Of course, he'd been in college then, but some high school romances worked out in the long term. And even if this one relationship didn't, it still helped cement that Blaine was interested in the fairer sex.

Who cared if she kept her hair short?

Kurt was growing increasingly agitated as the clock wound down toward dinner. He kept fiddling with his hair in the little mirror imbedded in the sun shield of the passenger seat as Blaine steered the car ever closer to his house. He glanced at the boy beside him.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

"What if they don't like me?"

"I'm sure they'll love you." The words felt odd coming from his mouth. Here he was, reassuring Kurt just as the other boy had done for him not an hour ago.

"But what if they don't?" He picked at his tie and the lapels of his jacket, scowling at the black and red fabric. "We should have changed into casual clothes before we left."

Blaine winced, remembering some of Kurt's more extravagant outfits. His parents definitely wouldn't appreciate something like that, but he kept it to himself. It was too late to change things now anyway. His mother probably had dinner already laid out on the table.

"It'll be okay."

"But what about the whole reason we're doing this in the first place,? They've heard us having sex, Blaine. Sex. How can I face them when all they know about me is how I sound in bed?"

Blaine tried not to think about that. It was easier just to pretend that he was simply bringing home his boyfriend to meet his parents and forget that his dad had ever figured out about his sex life. He forced a smile onto his lips as he pulled into the driveway and the car shuddered to a stop. He turned to look at Kurt, who had focused his full attention on his reflection again. His hands had moved back up to mess with his hair.

Blaine smiled and felt himself calming. Kurt was just as nervous about this as he was, and the thought made him feel just a little better. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to cup Kurt's face in his hands.

"Hey." Their eyes locked, and Blaine fixed him with a warm smile before leaning in for a quick kiss. "Everything's going to be fine."

John heard the rumble of Blaine's car in the driveway, and he felt his body flush with adrenaline. This was it. The moment of truth. He smiled down at his wife, who returned the gesture and rubbed her hand over his.

The faint footsteps outside grew louder and louder and the door opened to reveal their son…

…standing next to another boy in the standard Dalton uniform. John deflated, his excitement waning. It really was just a friend, then. Or maybe a study partner or something. What a disappointment.

But Blaine looked so nervous standing there in the doorway with this boy, and it really had been a long time since Blaine had brought anybody home at all. John could wait until some other time to meet this girl. He put on a smile. He could try and be happy for his son, even if he ached to meet Blaine's mystery girl.

"Mom. Dad," Blaine said breathily, his face oddly flushed, "this is Kurt." He drew in a deep breath and smiled the brunet beside him. "My boyfriend."

The other boy, Kurt, stepped forward and stretched out a long arm toward John, who hadn't quite recovered from the shock of what Blaine had just said. Boyfriend? That couldn't be right. What about the voices he'd heard? There was no way that had been a boy, so did that mean that Blaine was putting on a front? Leading this boy on and pretending to be gay to keep up appearances, since he'd already 'come out' to them or some nonsense like that? This was all so confusing.

Until Kurt opened his mouth.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. And Mrs. Anderson. Blaine's told me all about you."

That voice. Oh god, he knew that voice.

"John," Brenda whispered harshly, elbowing him discretely in the side, and he regained enough composure to remember his manners and grip Kurt's hand.

"It's, uh, very nice to meet you too." Oh god, he'd heard them having sex. This boy and his son. In his house. And he was gripping his hand and oh sweet lord, where had those hands been? He swallowed and tried not to pull away in horror, his lips curled up in a stiff smile that looked and felt far more like a grimace than anything else.

After several long moments of terrible, awkward silence, Brenda clapped her hands together and the two sprung apart, glad to have an excuse not to look at one another anymore. That had been the most awkward handshake of Kurt's life. "Well then," she said with a sweet smile, "shall we eat?'

And they headed over to the dining room table, John walking far more stiffly than he had before, that strange grimace still pasted on his face. Blaine glanced over at Kurt and saw the boy's nervous frown. He reached over and gripped Kurt's fingers loosely in his own, the warm touch comforting. He smiled, and Kurt shot him a shaky smile back. This could have gone a lot worse.

He leaned in close toward Kurt's shoulder, his smile growing steadier with every step.

"I think they like you."