Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or we would have been introduced to the Anderson family a long time ago.
Blaine's dad was sitting at his study, carefully going over papers needed for his work the next day. His eyes blearily searched for key phases in the stacks of sheets positioned at his left. Like clockwork he slowly moved each sheet, one at a time, to the right side of his desk after reviewing it, never changing, always at the same speed.
Blaine, one floor down, slowly hung up his Dalton blazer and backpack on the front hallway coat rack, too lazy to make his way upstairs yet to put them in his closet. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Blaine held the cold glass in his hand, filling water up to exactly half way full or halfway empty depending on his mood. He then makes his way back to the family room to sit on the worn couch before starting to sip his water.
These two activities, if you could call them that, happened without fail. Yes, if there was one thing that Blaine Anderson and his father had in common it was their own practiced rituals that helped them get through the day.
Recently though, Blaine's ritual has been changing. Usually he'll take a few minutes after Dalton to just rest against the couch, turning on some pointless TV show to watch until he can haul himself up to his room for homework, but now Kurt's gotten used to calling him after school because they don't see each other as much now that he's gone back to McKinley. So instead of watching the usual pointless TV, Blaine picks up his cell at the first ring so that he can listen to Kurt's ridiculous misadventures with the New Directions, and for once Blaine isn't irritated with the change in his schedule. He smiles instead.
Mr. Anderson, on the other hand, isn't really accustomed to change, so when Blaine goes up to his room and leaves the door open so he can clearly hear Blaine laugh and say to Kurt that of course he was adorable, it makes him a little uncomfortable. As it was said, Mr. Anderson doesn't adapt to change well, and this is a rather big change in his son, because of the fact that has been completely asexual around him since he spouted out that he was gay. Also a change Mr. Anderson didn't take well.
He wants it to stop, and to make it stop he decides that the only way it will is to mention it. 'It' being the fact that Blaine is no longer quiet about his sexuality at home. When the family: Mr. Anderson, his wife, Blaine, and his brother, Jake, are all seated, he begins.
"Blaine, you haven't been concentrating on your studies as much as you used to, as much as you should, unlike your brother, you're spending to your time unwisely, talking to your little friend, Kurt, was it?" It's a lie; Mr. Anderson knows as much, what it's code for is: "Don't talk to that boy, I do not accept him." Blaine father isn't sure if his son understands the hidden meaning. Too long have they been skirting around each other, the whole family in fact, to the point where they can no longer even say what they really mean, but Blaine's eyes glow, and suddenly Mr. Anderson knows that Blaine understands, and possibly always had, but even more surprisingly than that: he sees the challenge. The: I might have given in to you before when you didn't accept me, when you ignored me, even when I never believed in what you said, but not this time. Not on this.
"No I haven't, I have A's in all my classes. I always go over to Kurt's to study." Mr. Anderson, even for all his miscommunications with his son when he had spoken loud and clear, could for some reason understand this. Blaine's message: "Don't make up things that are not true. Don't lie. I'm doing better in my life with Kurt in it, better than when I relied on you. And another thing, I don't care what you think, especially about Kurt." And another message, a softer one, one that Mr. Anderson didn't think Blaine even tried to send, yet somehow he heard: "Kurt's twice the man you'll ever be."
"Go to your room." There could be a million ways to interpret what Mr. Anderson said: "Don't over step your boundaries." Or, "I don't want to deal with you." Both where correct, but as Blaine's father uttered the words they mostly stayed in literal form: "Go. Go away from here."
And Blaine went. Silent as a whisper, he stood, pushed in his chair, grabbed his plate, put it away in the kitchen, and climbed the steps up to his room before shutting the door softly, closing out his family.
The rest of the people at the table quietly ate their dinner, only one not confused as to what had just conspired. Truthfully, if either father or son wanted to be honest, they would say that they have a connection greater than others could understand; the connection of knowing the threatening messages hidden under words that are spoken, but not acknowledged. But neither feels the need to let up on their denial.
After dinner is completed to the clacking of spoons and scratching of forks Mr. Anderson makes his way up the stairs and to his and his wife's bedroom, but before he does he stops at Blaine's door, listening, but he can only hear silence and feels comfort in the fact that the routine they have had for years has been correctly put back into place. He had won.
It has been a few days, no mention of Kurt. Mr. Anderson felt sure that he had left his mark. No more Kurt, no more possibilities of boyfriends, no more until Blaine was far away, at the college Mr. Anderson had selected for him, and the hope that maybe no more anything there either, with the hope that a nice girl would come back home with his son, a hope that Mr. Anderson has mostly chalked up as fantasy.
He has gotten home from the office he works at late, already in a bad mood because of the shift in his schedule, so when he passes Blaine's door he is shocked to hear muffled laughing. He scowls, debating on whether to put an end to the irritation once and for all when his son, seeing his father's indecision, asks for help on his report due tomorrow. Mr. Anderson sighs, finally deciding to leave it for now, going down into the family room to help Jake on his homework. If he had spent just as much time analyzing Jake as he had Blaine, preparing for an attack, he would have noticed that Jake's paper wasn't due until next week, and that he didn't even need that much help at all.
As long as the door is closed, Mr. Anderson levels with himself; then he can't hear his son fawning over the boy. This, he concludes, is better than having the door open.
It's has been weeks after their routine shift, nothing Mr. Anderson couldn't deal with, even if he didn't like it. It wasn't worth his time. Then something else new happened, much bigger than before. He came home from work to his house, his son Jake sitting on the couch eyeing him strangely. Watching him, almost glaring-like, the message clear to anyone who could see: "Don't."
Don't what?
He slowly made his way upstairs, perplexed. His feet dragging him through the hallway until they stopped upon hear a sound. Laughing, but it was two sets of laugher. One his son's own, and the other, higher pitched bell-ringing one.
Anger flashed through his veins. Who was his son to bring home a boy that he didn't even know? He stomped toward the door, but before he could rip it open, drag that one kid out, slam it again, and have an extremely furious yell at his son, his wife appeared in front of him.
"Who's in there?" He knew who it was.
"Kurt." She answered simply. Not "Blaine's boyfriend", but not "Blaine's friend" either, and that's what gave it away.
"Who said he could be here?" His anger rose partly because of the male behind the door and his son, but mostly, truly, because he did not have a firm grasp on the situation. He needed to be in control, he was supposed to be in control.
"I did." She looked him in the eye. She had never stood up to him on something he so obviously disapproved of, but she was sick of it. Sick of the lies, sick of the games, sick of the secret messages of hostility passed between her husband and son she had us all fooled into believing she didn't know. She was done. She had reached her limit and her choice had to be made: which one? Either husband or son, maybe the choice hadn't been so obvious to her in the beginning, seeing as she never thought that she would have to chose, but she damn well couldn't live with herself if she didn't pick the baby she nursed from birth.
"Blaine honey," she opened the door, more so than needed, as if to prove a point, "leave the door open OK?" Blaine and the boy, Kurt, blushed. "OK?" She prodded.
"Yeah mom," Blaine mumbled.
The two blushes on the faces intensified, but Mr. Anderson barely saw, watching his wife as she sauntered down the stairs, giving him one last piercing look before leaving. Her words replayed in his mind, "Blaine honey, leave the door open OK?" Her message hidden in the words: "Don't let anyone shut the door on you, especially yourself."
And her glare, clearly visible, piercing straight into him: "Don't you dare lock the closet door."
Yes, Mr. Anderson and Blaine Anderson clearly were alike in many ways, mostly for their love of routines, but unlike Mr. Anderson, Blaine didn't let his old routine control him, not afraid to swap it out per chance a better one came by.
Well, this turned out different than expected, as all my fics tend to. Sadly, unlike other authors, my fics change about halfway through morphing them into something totally different from the first part. This was originally suppose to be about the routines, but morphed into hidden messages. I was always interested in the idea that Blaine's family had communication issues, so…this happened. Tada! Hoped you liked it anyway!
Review please… *Gives best puppy dog eyes*