A/N: I decided to change things up and write a story that focuses less on fluffy Klaine romance and more on Blaine's past. Glee has yet to mention anything about Blaine's father (actually, not entirely true, Blaine did briefly mention that he and fist father had fixed up a car...) and I got to thinking...what if Blaine had had troubles of his own that even his friends were uninformed of? Thus, this story was born.

Hope you like it.

3 Ceecee

Blaine had frozen, mid-step, as Kurt came into view.

He wasn't alone.

The man stopped in front of the car, a friendly smile plastered on his face. His hair was neatly combed and gelled down, in a style that wasn't much different from the way Blaine himself used to wear his own. Streaks of gray and the crow's feet wrinkling the sides of his eyes indicated that he was middle-aged, perhaps forty or so. He wore a navy sports jacket and khakis, a black tie collaring his neck. His face held the evidence of a faint five o' clock shadow, as if he'd neglected to shave that day.

And he was smiling right at Kurt.

"No," Blaine hissed, and picked up his pace towards the area where Kurt and the man were standing. As he approached their conversation slowly became more and more comprehensible.

"…a very wonderful school. Dalton was a nice selection."

Kurt nodded, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Yes, it's uh, quite prestigious, isn't it?"

The man clapped his hands together, his smile broadening.

Oh God. That smile. That cold, awful smile. Blaine felt a deep animosity grow within himself, and he began trembling in undisclosed rage.

"Anyway, the educational system aside, is there a Blaine that is currently attending this establishment? I believe his last name is Anderson."

Kurt nodded again, and the man crossed his arms over his chest in a business-like manner.

"Would you happen to know where I could find him?"

Kurt hesitated, running his hand through his hair, which he had so painstakingly styled that morning. His body language was evident: he was nervous. Very nervous.

"Oh, well I…what do you want with him?"

The man took a step forward, staring at him with such intense scrutiny that both Blaine and Kurt squirmed self-consciously.

"I believe that is my own business, young man." he replied tersely. Then the sugar dripped back into his voice. "Could you please inform me of where he is? I'm sure that you would kn—"

"YOU." Blaine spoke up from behind the younger teen, stepping in front of him protectively. Kurt jumped, no expecting his sudden company. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The man's bushy eyebrows raised in surprise at Blaine's hostile inquiry. Then they lowered as recognition crossed his face.

"Blaine." His voice was synthetically pleasant, like he was masking another emotion, one less-friendly. "It's been a while since we have last seen each other."

Blaine's eyes narrowed. "Kurt." He grabbed his friend's arm, squeezing it faintly. "Get in the car."

Sensing the tension, Kurt's eyes darted between Blaine and the man uneasily. "Why?"

Blaine sighed with exasperation. "Just do it."

Kurt stood his ground defiantly. "What is going—"

"KURT. Get in the goddamn car!" Blaine turned to look at him, his smoldering dark eyes boring into Kurt's soft blue ones. Kurt flinched at Blaine's sudden use of profanity.

Blaine never swore casually. Never.

Kurt backed away and, without taking his eyes off of both Blaine and the stranger, pulled open the car door and slid inside obediently. He paused before pressing down on the lock, hearing it click dully.

Blaine turned to face the man again, clenching his fists at his sides tightly.

"Now, that brusque language was hardly necessary," the man said smoothly, flattening out the lapels of his jacket. Blaine ignored his critique and questioned him again fiercely.

"What are you doing here? You should be rotting away in a cell!" He was practically yelling, unaware of the quizzical looks other students passing by were giving him.

The man shook his head disapprovingly. "You shouldn't be talking to me in that tone, Blaine. It's extremely disrespectful."

"Respect?" Blaine laughed mirthlessly. "You don't deserve my respect. Or anyone else's."

Kurt watched the scenario from behind the windshield, biting his lip. Blaine was attracting a lot of unwanted attention from bystanders, and more and more people were stopping to stare at the commotion. He didn't seem to care, however; his full focus was directed towards the adult standing near the hood of the vehicle.

Blaine stepped closer to him, jabbing his finger into his chest abrasively. "You should leave. Now."

The man blinked at him and reached up, adjusting Blaine's tie. Blaine pulled away, glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill, the man would have died a hundred deaths at that very moment.

"That's not very kind of you. Here, I went out of my way to find you so that we could talk face-to-face like civilized men and you act all defensive."

Blaine's eyes widened incredulously.

"Defensive? I'm getting defensive? Why are you so surprised? You hurt me and my mom, ruin our lives, and then come back here and expect me to, what, run over to you with open arms? Calmly talk about our past conflicts over a cup of coffee like we're discussing the weather? No way. It's not that easy, nor will I ever make it so." Blaine was near hysterics, while the man just stared back at him stoically. "You. I don't even understand why they would ever let a person like you go. Live, even. No, you don't even deserve to be called a person. You are a monster. A goddamn, heartless monster. That's all you ever were, and that's all you'll ever be. You can try to fix what you've done, but believe me, no amount of time or money will ever compensate for what you've done. Ever."

The man frowned, tilting his head, and studied the incensed teenager thoughtfully.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes. I am finished. Finished with this conversation, and finished with you."

Suddenly the man reached out and grabbed onto Blaine's jacket, jerking him closer. Rage flashed in his eyes and his kindred expression dissolved as immediately as it had formed.

"No. That's where you are wrong. We're not done here. You can run, but you'll never ever be able to hide. Because—mark my words, Blaine—I will find you."

"Get your hands off of me!" Blaine shoved against the man's chest, forcefully pulling back, and stumbled over towards the driver's seat. The man laughed and shook his head as Blaine yanked open the door and clambered in, slamming it behind him.

"Until next time then, Blaine." He replied, the smile returning to his face. Then he turned on his heel and strolled away, back in the direction he'd come, whistling nonchalantly. Blaine watched him leave, clutching the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!" he swore violently under his breath, beating his fist against the wheel with every profane declaration. Kurt stared at him, a mixture of shock and empathy flooding his eyes.

Blaine pulled his keys out from the pocket of his blazer and thrust them into the ignition, turning them quickly. The engine sputtered to life, growling with deafening volume. He threw the car into reverse and pulled out of the Dalton parking lot hastily. Then he continued down the road, accelerating until he'd reached a speed that Kurt was sure was way beyond the limit. Kurt glanced around worriedly, hoping that they weren't in the presence of any police officers.

The car continued speeding down the road. Blaine's driving was so frantic, any passerby could easily assume that he was a flustered husband trying to drive his impregnated wife to the hospital to give birth.

Yeah, if only it were that simple.

They approached a red light, and Blaine—thankfully—hit the breaks. The power of the stop caused the car to jolt, throwing both boys forward, only to have them jerked back by their seatbelts. Kurt took a deep breath in and peered over at his friend. Blaine's elbow rested against the wheel, a hand twisting his dark curls as she stared downwards. His expression remained unreadable. Kurt reached out and hesitantly touched his arm.

"Blaine…"

Blaine's eyes slowly traveled over to Kurt's face and he regarded him strangely, as if he'd forgetton Kurt was even there.

"What."

The word came out a statement, as opposed to a question; his voice set in an even, dead monotone. Kurt removed his hand and folded it in his lap.

"Who…who was that?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Blaine steadily.

Blaine stared back at the road, anticipating when the light was going to switch to green.

"That man," he replied softly, "was my father."

They sat there silent for a moment. The light turned green and Blaine resumed driving, noticeably slower in comparison to before.

"Blaine," Kurt began again, mustering up more courage, "why do you hate him?"

"Excuse me?" Blaine's eyes flickered away from the road, back over in his direction.

Kurt shifted his position, recrossing his legs and smoothing his hands along the sleeves of his now-wrinkled blazer. "Why do you hate him? I mean, what did he do to deserve—"

"Everything." Blaine's tone suddenly jumped, as if he was shouting. Kurt flinched again and slowly inched away. Blaine took a deep breath in and exhaled.

"He did everything."

"Everything? What do you mea—"

Blaine held his hand up, signaling him to be quiet. "Not here. Wait."

Kurt turned away and gazed out the window. A small, dark-haired girl walked down the street, her fingers intertwined the taller boy walking next to her. A pang of guilt him as he recognized the couple; Finn and Rachel. Immediately, he was brought back to the issue of how he left New Directions, just before they were to compete at Sectionals. Perhaps they'd found some superhuman way to forgive him for such a desertion. Perhaps not. He certainly wouldn't have let it go so easily, if in their shoes. In fact, there still was existing tension between him and Finn back at home. Kurt had com to dread dinner; having to sit at a table ad be expected to eat when Finn was right across from him shooting his accusing looks…it didn't exactly do anything to whet the appetite.

But that was the least of his concerns at the moment. He glanced over at Blaine peripherally, wondering what exactly that man—Blaine's father—could have done to get such a response out of him.

Well, he'd find out soon enough, wouldn't he?

To be continued...