Joe stared coldly at the boy in front of him. He hated Jeremiah, from the roots of his ratty blonde hair to the simpering upward curve of his lips. Jeremiah, that dead-beat 24 year old who took Blaine out to coffee just so he could make out with him in the back of his car, who broke his heart just before Valentine's Day. Joe only had to think back to the hour he spent outside Blaine's door listening to his son cry to justify every ounce of anger he felt towards Jeremiah.
"Where is my son?" He demanded. Blaine hadn't shown up yet.
"He's recovering," Jeremiah said, carefully straightening his shirt as he redid the buttons. "It was quite a wild ride we had there. Blaine's a bit of a slut."
"Don't you dare talk about him like that," Joe growled.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Jeremiah said without an ounce of apology. "I figured you could already hear what we were doing and gathered as much yourself. I tend to lose my head after a couple of good rounds with a first-timer."
Joe winced.
"Haven't you done enough to Blaine?" Joe said. "You used him, you broke his heart, and now you waltz in here and take his virginity? He has a boyfriend! What's Kurt going to do when he finds out about this?"
"He didn't mention a boyfriend." Jeremiah shrugged. "But then again, he was pretty desperate for me. What teenage hormones will do to you, I guess. Listen, Mr. Anderson, we both know what kind of guy I am. Blaine wanted it, I gave it to him. I'm not going to apologize for that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get going. It looks like you need to have a talk with your boy."
He had one thing right.
"BLAINE!" Joe yelled, barely even listening as Jeremiah's car peeled out of his driveway. "You get down here right now, young man!" Silence. Fine, then. Blaine was going to hear this lecture whether he wanted to or not. Joe began walking up the stairs, shouting as he went up. "I can't believe you would do something like this, Blaine. Do you think Jeremiah cared about you? He was just down here calling you a slut! That's the boy you chose to give your virginity to? What about Kurt? You do realize that you cheated on him just now? I don't know if he'll even stay with you once he finds out about this. I have never been so angry with you, Blaine, or so disappointed. What on earth where you thinking?"
Joe furiously jiggled the handle of Blaine's door which was still locked and covered by that tie. This wasn't like Blaine. Joe's son was a blurter; Blaine should be running at him with a slew of 'I'm sorry,' pouring out of his mouth by now. Joe stood at the door, listening for Blaine's answer. There was only one sound coming from Blaine's room, so muffled it was barely audible. Joe's heart dropped into his boots.
Blaine was still screaming.
"Blaine? Blaine, what's going on? Are you hurt? Open the door. Blaine, can you hear me?" There was a high, keening scream that dissolved into sobs and then choking. "Blaine! Are you okay? Please, son, just unlock the door and we'll figure this out, I promise. Blaine! Blaine!"
The screaming stopped.
The silence that followed lasted only a moment, broken by the sound of Joe kicking the door down. Joe didn't pause to study the room he'd just walked into, his eyes falling instantly on his son. Blaine was on the bed, completely naked, arms held tight to his side by lengths of rope. His ankles were bound to the posts of his bed, his hips held up by a small stack of pillows. One of Blaine's ankles was bleeding, the lines of red dripping onto the sheets below him. The pillows underneath his hips were spotted with blood from between his legs. Blaine's face was no better, his swollen lips stretched wide around a gag in his mouth, his cheeks tear-stained and far too pale. Blaine's whole face was a sort of pale grey, his eyes closed, and the beginnings of a bruise forming over one eye.
"Blaine?" Joe's voice was weak, his knees trembling so badly he could barely stagger over to where his son lay limp on his bed. "Blaine, wake up, please." Blaine didn't move, and Joe realized with a trace of panic that between the gag in his mouth and the tears and mucus filling his nose, Blaine could barely breathe.
Joe's shaking fingers set to work at the knot behind Blaine's head, his mouth spilling out apologies and reassurances, "Everything's going to be okay, Blaine. I've got you, I've got you, and I promise no one is going to hurt you anymore. See, the gag's almost out." Blaine let out a small shriek when Joe removed the gag. It was five inches long, and set into a shape that sent chills up Joe's spine. "It's out. The gag's out. Now I need you to breathe, baby boy. Come on, Blaine, breathe."
Blaine took several choking, painful breaths, his eyelashes fluttering weakly, "Daddy?"
"Everything is going to be okay," Joe promised. Blaine squirmed, tugging his ankles against their ties. The cuts around one ankle reopened, fresh dots of blood running down his leg. "No, no, Blaine. Don't fight, you don't have to. Daddy's going to get you out, just wait a minute." Joe ran to Blaine's desk, desperately searching for a pair of scissors. Blaine curled in on himself in the bed, moaning in pain and fear. "Here, I found the scissors. I've got you. I've got you, I'm sorry, just, please, Blaine…"
Joe finally got his son free, wrapping Blaine in his sheets and pulling the boy into his arms. Joe was a much bigger guy than his son, and he was never more grateful for that fact. Joe ran down the stairs with his boy, trying to ignore the tears soaking though his lapel and the sticky warmth on his forearm from between Blaine's legs.
"It hurts," Blaine whispered while Joe started the car. Joe glanced worriedly at his son. The boy was only half conscious, confused and terrified. He pulled at his seat belt, the dark eyes turned on to his father. "Why are you tying me up?"
Joe pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator, ignoring the police sirens that started up behind him, "I'm not tying you up, baby boy. It's just a seat belt. We're going to the hospital."
"He tied me up," Blaine said, babbling quietly, "He tied me on my bed and shoved things down my throat and inside me. It hurt."
"I know, baby." Joe tried to blink away the tears before they blocked his view of the road.
Blaine sobbed, "I wanted Kurt to be my first."
"I know. I'm so sorry. But everything's going to be okay. We're almost to the hospital, do you see it? Blaine, stay with me."
Joe's wheels screeched against the pavement as he stopped. The officers fell silent as they watched the man who'd driven like something possessed run to the other side of his car and pick up the hysterical boy draped in bloody sheets. Blaine wrapped his arms around Joe's neck, setting his head against the other man's shoulder and sobbing quietly. He passed out before Joe hit the doors.
"Someone help me! Please, he's hurt, somebody help me!" Joe yelled, clutching Blaine's limp body. Doctors and nurses swarmed around him, pulling Blaine from his arms and onto a stretcher. Joe's baby was ashen faced and silent. Joe wrapped his arms around himself, watching as they took his baby away from him.
Joe overheard one of the police officers whispering to a doctor, "You're gonna want to run a rape kit on this one." And it finally hit him. Jeremiah. The ties. The muffled screaming. Joe calling through the door that he'd let them have their fun. Going downstairs and waiting for Jeremiah to finish.
He had sat by and listened as his son was raped.