Roswell

by arainymonday

In 1947, a spaceship crashes in Roswell, New Mexico. In 2002, incubation pods left behind open and aliens begin living among us. In 2012, I died, and then my life began. I'm Kurt Hummel, and five days ago I died. After that, things got really weird. Roswell AU. A Roswell factsheet is included in the first chapter.

4. Coming Out From Behind The Tree

ROSWELL

PART FOUR

COMING OUT FROM BEHIND THE TREE

October 29

It's frightening how the world changes sometimes. How the streets you've walked your whole life suddenly seem darker, colder; how the silence isn't so quiet anymore; how eyes you've barely noticed now look only at you; how the walk home at night is no longer a routine but a victory. And then you begin to wonder: maybe it's not the world that's changed. Maybe it's just you.

---

MEET THE PARENTS

Kurt and Blaine and Santana and Tina part ways at the Desert Rose Motel where they left the Corvette. The sun is well above the horizon.

Tina's greatest worry is that she won't have the car back in time. Her parents leave for work around nine, and even Santana's reckless driving will barely get them back to Roswell in time. Her only hope is to park the car in the driveway and leave before her parents notice.

They switch places on the corner. They discussed it on the drive home, and if Tina's parents do notice the car is missing, it would be better if they don't know who else is involved in what is, technically, grand theft auto.

"I'll meet you back here, and we'll walk to school from there," Tina says.

"That's a long walk."

"Better than me getting grounded and interrogated about my whereabouts last night."

Santana can't argue with that. Tina speeds down the block, whips the car into the driveway, and throws it into park. She's just turned to run back to the corner when she hears the telltale grinding of the garage door gears. She cringes, puts on her best innocent face, and faces her parents with a smile. Maybe they'll forget school starts at eight.

"Tina!" they call jovially.

It totally throws her off when they wrap her up in a double hug and press kisses to her cheeks and temples. They're like a strange Oreo with her parents in their khaki work gear and she in her typical black clothes. Peter and Andrea Cohen-Chang are easily the coolest parents to ever live, but they bewilder Tina on a regular basis.

"Oh, honey," Andrea says sweetly, "it's so good to know that our only child in this world wasn't gagged, shoved into the trunk of a car, driven out into the desert, and cut up into little pieces after being brutally beaten and raped."

Tina goes absolutely still in her parents' arms. They're not done torturing her yet, though.

"I only wish I had known that our baby girl voluntarily stayed out all night and knowingly let us worry over her safety, then I wouldn't have spent a sleepless night agonizing over all the angry thoughts I had when she still wasn't home two hours after curfew," Peter says.

"So … tell me," Andrea begins, with a nudge and a wink, "who's the lucky boy? I noticed you've been spending more time with Blaine Anderson."

Normally, Tina would laugh, because how can anyone who has seen Blaine and Kurt together possibly think either one of them is straight? But this is about the worst kind of lecture she could have received.

"What? I wouldn't stay out all night with a boy! I was with a girl."

Her parents' fake good humor turns into something else. They seem almost genuinely happy. They let her go finally, which she's grateful for, but she's more confused now then when they hadn't led by yelling at her.

"Honey, we're so proud of you for telling us. We've been wondering when you would feel comfortable enough."

"Although I'm slightly incredulous that this came up right before we ground you until you leave for college," Peter begins, "I'm also incredibly happy that you trust us enough to tell us about this."

Her mom flaps a hand at him. "So who's the lucky girl?"

Tina gapes at her parents. Of all the possible ways for this morning to go, this is one she honestly had not considered. It takes her several minutes to figure out how to even begin. Not to mention she's uncertain about whether she needs to correct their assumption or not and if she wants to question why and for how long they've assumed she's gay.

"It's not …. That's not …. I can't really …."

"Santana," her parents say in unison.

For a minute, Tina thinks Santana has appeared at the end of their driveway, but then she realizes they're guessing who she spent last night with. Her brow furrows.

"Oh, honey. No one who's seen you and Santana together could possibly think anything else," Andrea says.

Tina's mouth works, but no sound comes out. No way she and Santana are as smitten as Kurt and Blaine. No one in the entire world is as smitten as those two are. But she and Santana did kiss first, so maybe there's more than one way to see how much two people are drawn to each other.

"Listen, Tina," her dad says seriously now. "We hope you know that we'll always love and accept you for exactly who you are. Just remember that we live where we live, and it's going to be different than when you dated Artie, but you can always come to us if you're having problems. Okay?"

"Okay," Tina says automatically. This whole conversation has thrown her. "Uh … Am I grounded until I leave for college?"

Peter laughs good-naturedly. "Of course you are. We don't care who you love, sweetheart. We believe in equality in this house, which means your punishment is equally as severe as it would have been if you were out with a boy."

The girl nods sheepishly. She feels stupid, but she's tearing up. "I'm really sorry that I lied to you and stole your car. I wouldn't have done it unless it was really, really important. I know that doesn't excuse anything, but … I just want you to know that I did it to help out some of my friends."

"We're not other parents, Tina. We've always given you a lot of freedom, but you have to talk to us and tell us what's going on or you'll lose our trust and your freedom. If you'd just told us someone was in trouble, we wouldn't have had to ground you."

Tina has gone weepy and nods through her tears. Her parents pull her into another hug to console her.

"So I guess I'm pretty much living in my room until next August," she sighs.

"What?" Peter cries with mock exasperation. "We ground our anti-social daughter and she thinks she's allowed to stay in her room for months at a time! Sweetheart, you're going to be in so many clubs and extracurriculars you'll beg for mercy in a week! Now get inside and get ready for school. Your mother and I are marching you into Figgins' office and writing your name on a dozen sign-up sheets."

"I'll get your King of the Asian Vampires costume ready," Andrea remarks teasingly.

Tina goes still again. So they knew how she got out of gym class too. She thinks she kind of has the most awesome parents ever. But she also knows they're not really done with this conversation. Curfew will be sooner, check-ins more frequent, and no more sleepovers with Santana. She's smart enough to know an easy sentence when she gets one. She hopes Blaine, Kurt, and Santana get off this easy too.

o

Blaine and Kurt return to Roswell much later than Santana and Tina. Blaine isn't willing to push the speedometer past one hundred, and neither he nor Kurt are worried about their parents finding out. Blaine will tell his parents he left early to do some studying, and Kurt hadn't been expected home at all last night. They don't stretch out the drive because they're both exhausted, but neither do they hurry back to Roswell.

"Want me to drop you off at home?" Blaine asks.

Kurt shakes his head. "I can't go home until after school. My dad works right downstairs, remember?"

"Oh. Right. So I guess you're hanging out with me until three o'clock?"

"As long as you're napping. I can't believe I'm still on my feet."

"Perfect plan." Blaine punctuates the sentence with a yawn.

They kick off their shoes once they're in Blaine's room, and Kurt struggles out of his shirt, but settles for sleeping in his jeans and undershirt. Blaine has just enough foresight to set the alarm on his phone before his head hits the pillow, and he's asleep. Kurt's too tired to care about the potential awkwardness of sharing a bed with his crush. All he can think is bed, pillow, sleep, good.

There is nothing sexy about their dead sleep, but that doesn't stop Kurt from blushing to his ears and acting guilty when they're discovered three hours later.

"Blaine, honey? I saw your car in the driveway. Are you feeling … oh!"

Blaine wakes a second too late to pull away from Kurt, who he'd snuggled up against during their nap. Diane Anderson's eyes widen dramatically when she peers into the bedroom and finds her son in bed with another boy. Not even in bed, though. They're on top of the covers and fully clothed except for their shoes and Kurt's extra layers.

"'S gon on?" Kurt slurs.

Kurt twists and stretches, surprised by the warm body wrapped around him and startled by the blonde woman standing over the bed. Her shock quickly transforms into discomfort. She glances away and wrings her hands, and so he quickly wriggles out of Blaine's grip and off the bed.

Blaine gets up quickly too, arranging his wrinkled clothes and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He tries to get his mother to look at him, but her eyes are fixed on Kurt's uniform shirt in his hands. He hadn't had time to change into anything else before they left the Crashdown yesterday.

The longer Kurt remains in the room, the tenser the situation becomes. He looks pained to leave Blaine to deal with the situation on his own, but staying obviously isn't helping anything. He slips between mother and son and out the door. Diane says nothing until they hear the front door click shut. It sounds too loud in the quiet house.

"Mom, I can explain."

She holds up her hand and turns her face away, but she's clearly crying. Blaine shifts his weight around, and his arms come up to wrap around his torso. His lips are a thin line, and his eyes fill with tears he won't let fall. All because he knows what's coming.

"Blaine, I have tried so hard to teach you that these urges you feel are wrong. Pastor Warren gave you all those verses. Did you even read them?"

Blaine wants to argue the contextual points of the verses. He wants to scream at her that her Bible doesn't apply to him because he's not human and that his home planet isn't part of her God's creation. It's not mentioned in Genesis. He's checked. But the last fight they had only ended up getting his father and the fucking car involved, so he doesn't say anything about the verses.

"I gave you plenty of space to figure out how to love girls, but …" She gestures to the bed. "Now you're skipping school for sex with boys like … that?"

"It's not like that. Kurt is just my friend. And what is that even supposed to mean anyway? Like what? Kurt is the most loyal, moral person I know."

His mom snorts derisively. "There is nothing moral about the gays. That's why I've been trying to convince you to make the right choice."

Blaine sits down heavily on the end of his bed and drops his head into his hands. He can feel the tears coming, and he doesn't want her to see. She'll tell him how much she loves him and cares about his soul, as if the spirit she's crushing isn't important at all.

"I will not have this behavior in my house. Swishy boys like him are a bad influence, Blaine. He'll bring out the worst parts of you. You're not to go to the Crashdown or spend time with him in school anymore."

"You can't do that! You can't keep Kurt from me." His voice breaks, and the tears begin to fall. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Diane regards her son coldly. "I should think the day your father and I came to get you from the orphanage is the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Blaine looks up at his mother with tearstained cheeks and accusation in his eyes.

"I should too."

o

Becky turns with a giant spoon loaded up with Fruit Loops in her mouth when the door opens, and Sue stares at the unexpectedly comical sight. After a moment, Becky resumes chewing, and Sue takes a seat on the couch next to her daughter. A new showcase is starting on The Price is Right.

"So what are you doing home from school?" Sue asks lightly.

Becky swallows thickly. "You were gone all night."

"You know sometimes I have to work at night. You've always been able to get ready for school and get on the bus without me."

Becky has the numbers of two nursing students programmed into her phone in case she needs someone when Sue can't be around. Jackie and Robbie have a lot going on with school and personal lives, but they always come when Becky needs someone. Not only is that part of what she pays them for, but they love and care about Becky.

"You didn't call last night, and I was worried, so I called Deputy Sandy, and he told me you were coming back from Texas. Why did you go to Texas last night?"

Sue rubs the back of her head where she has a painful goose egg and curses herself silently. She'd been so caught up in following those kids she hadn't phoned home often enough to check up on Becky.

"I am sorry about that, Becky. I was chasing a lead, and then someone gave me a really bad headache this morning. But none of that is more important than you."

A smile splits Becky's face that only makes Sue feel even guiltier for leaving her alone to worry. She kisses the top of Becky's head lightly.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

Sue picks up the remote control and turns up the volume. "I'll bet you one trip to the ice cream stand that I can win this showcase."

"You're on!"

o

The Cohen-Changs seriously freak Santana the fuck out. She's grateful to get away from their unique brand of crazy. Cool parents aren't supposed to exist outside of teen movies like Easy A. She spends all day at school exhausted and trying to figure out why Mr. and Mrs. Cohen-Chang bother her so much, but she can't pinpoint it until she gets home after school.

"I don't want a lecture."

It takes Helen a few minutes to tear her eyes away from Antique Roadshow. "What'd you do this time?"

Santana shouldn't be surprised her foster mother didn't realize she was missing, but after her morning with the Cohen-Changs, she kind of hoped someone would scold her for breaking the rules. But this house doesn't have any rules to break, and Santana won't get yelled at unless she interrupts television programs too often.

"Nevermind."

o

Kurt wakes up refreshed, but very hungry after a powernap. Good idea or not, he'd come home after leaving Blaine's house and risked being found out. He hadn't been, however, and he'd had another solid three hours of sleep. He wolfs down a turkey-on-wheat and then takes a long shower. He's grateful for both decisions when he comes downstairs to the living room.

Burt sits on the couch. He's staring at the television, but Kurt can tell he's not really watching. It clicks off the second Kurt walks into the room, and he knows something big and bad is about to happen.

"Have a seat."

His dad sounds furious. Somehow, he's been caught. Kurt tiptoes over to the armchair as if light footsteps can stop the worst from happening. His dad takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand over his head.

"So tell me about last night."

Kurt's stomach drops, because he's been given nothing to work with. He doesn't know what his dad knows and what he doesn't, and getting caught in a lie to cover up a lie is too much. He shifts around in his chair, crosses and uncrosses his legs, and puts on his best approximation of cold and distant that he uses as school, but he can never quite muster it for his dad.

"Dad, I'm really so –"

"I didn't ask for an apology. I asked for an explanation."

"I wasn't working on a school assignment. A friend had something big – really big – happen, and I went to help. Please don't ask me what. It's private, Dad. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's not my place to share."

Burt nods slowly. "That sounds like you, Kurt, and I really wish I could believe it, but you lied to my face. You looked me in the eye, and you lied to me."

"Dad –"

"And you've been keeping other stuff from me too. Like this boy who always comes into the Crashdown who you ran off with last night. After everything we've talked about, Kurt – about you wanting to hold hands and kiss the person you love – you have a boyfriend and you don't tell me about it? You know, that hurts, kid."

"No, Dad. It's not like that. Blaine isn't my boyfriend. He's just a really good friend."

Burt scrubs his palms over his face. "According to the Sheriff, that might not be the best idea. She came in after you ran off and we got to talking. It sounded to me like she doesn't think much of this Blaine kid. I don't know how I feel about you spending time with him."

"Dad, you don't even know him!"

"Exactly! You've never kept your friends from me, Kurt. What am I supposed to think when one of them comes in the diner almost every day, but I don't even get a passing introduction? And you've been skipping Friday night dinners for weeks now. You think I don't see whose car you get into when you leave?"

Kurt's flustered by the way the argument is going. He's not being lectured for lying and staying out at all – not yet anyway – but for so much more that he can't possibly explain to his dad. He can't share everything that's been happening in his life anymore because other people's lives depend on his secrecy.

"Fine. I'll introduce you, Dad. I'm not hiding Blaine from you. It's just that what we have is … complicated."

Burt frowns and studies his son for a long moment. "He's in the closet?"

"Dad," Kurt says warningly, and Burt raises his palms. "I'm really, really sorry that I lied to you, Dad. I don't like lying to you. I just … I didn't think you'd let me go with Blaine last night, and I really needed to clean up a mess I'd created."

Burt sighs deeply. "I wish you'd talk to me like you used to, Kurt. I don't like being the bad guy here, but you're not giving me much choice."

Kurt purses his lips and exhales sharply through his nose. "I wish I could tell you everything, but so many of the things going on aren't mine to tell."

"All right," his dad says sadly. "If that's the way you want it, that's how we'll play it. The Sheriff told me where you went –"

"What? Sheriff Sylvester followed us?"

"I gave her permission to track you down. She said you went to Texas."

Kurt feels cold dread bloom in his stomach. The footsteps overhead had been the Sheriff. Of course she knew where they were headed because her parents owned the dome, which meant she also knew who broke into her office.

"I don't even know what kind of punishment you should get for a stunt like this. You definitely aren't getting your car for another six months."

Kurt knows better than to protest. His punishment is actually pretty light: six additional months without something he doesn't have anyway. More troubling to him is that his dad knows he's hiding something big that he won't share. He's hurting his dad, and he has to keep doing it.

---

DOUBLE TALK

On Tuesday morning the seniors are released from their classes and corralled in the auditorium. This happens every October, so no one is surprised that the time has come for them to sit through an hour-long motivational speech about college/career plans. Kurt and Santana have first hour together, so they end up sitting next to each other when they can't find Blaine or Tina in the audience.

"What the hell?"

Kurt turns towards Santana, and she gestures to the stage. Instead of their guidance counselor standing at the podium trying to call for quiet, Ms. Holliday strides across the stage on her impossibly high heels.

"Thank you all for coming today. As you might have heard, Mr. Costello's alopecia is acting up again, so I've been called in to be your substitute guidance counselor this week. For those of you who don't know me …."

Kurt is horrified. One, he's fairly sure alopecia is hair loss and Mr. Costello finished going bald several years ago. Two, he's also fairly sure there is no such thing as a substitute guidance counselor. Three, it has just occurred to him that maybe their teachers aren't out for innocent reasons. Maybe they're dropping like flies because the FBI is arranging it that way.

Up on the stage, Ms. Holliday continues. A photo slideshow of multicultural students laughing, studying intensely, and working various jobs plays behind her.

"What will the future bring? There are so many opportunities out there for young people today, and it's my job this week to prepare you for all the great things you can do with your lives. You can't become something unless you can dream it first."

"Let's make it easy for her," Kurt murmurs. He points to The Mack. "Breadstix."

Santana motions to Azimio Adams. "Gas World."

Dave Karofsky. "Rendering plant."

Noah Puckerman. "Prison."

Kurt claps a hand over his mouth, which causes Santana to snicker at her own snarky wit too.

"Over the next few days, I'll be calling each of you into my office to discuss your college or career plans," Ms. Holliday says.

That wipes the smiles off their faces.

After assembly dismisses with the bell, they fight their way through the crowd to where Blaine said he would be waiting for them if he didn't find them in the auditorium. Tina arrives a few minutes later looking equally concerned.

"She wants one-on-one meetings with us now?" Tina asks worriedly.

"This is bullshit. No way," Santana says.

"We have to or it'll look suspicious," Blaine says. "We just have to keep our cool and don't tell her anything she couldn't find out from our student records anyway."

"Let us know how that goes." Blaine looks confused, so Kurt enlightens him. "You'd think someone with a last name starting with A would know that these things are always done alphabetically."

o

Kurt is correct, and Ms. Holliday calls Blaine out of class during second period. He passes Azimio in the hallway and knocks on the guidance office door. The room belonging to Mr. Costello is pale yellow with motivational posters in faded colors hanging on the walls. Blaine feels wrong sitting across the desk that belongs to someone else – someone he actually trusts – and watching Ms. Holliday flip through his records.

"You're an excellent student, Blaine," she comments. "I'm not surprised your college applications are already in. Princeton, Columbia, Yale, Northwestern. That's an impressive list. Have you thought about a major?"

"Not really."

"Why don't you start by telling me your dream job?"

"Katy Perry. A singer, I mean, with songs that make people feel good."

Ms. Holliday lets a smile that seems genuine flash over her face. "That's fantastic!" But she has to get information out of him, so she settles back into a less enthusiastic persona. "Now tell me what job you think you'll actually have."

He wants to say 'whatever won't get me noticed,' but that would ironically get him noticed, so he grasps for the most boring job he can imagine having.

"Accountant?"

"You don't sound too sure about that. What did you want to be when you were five?"

Blaine freezes. His life began when he came out of the stasis pod at six-years-old. If he had thoughts before then, he doesn't remember them. Even if he did, he wouldn't share them with her. Ms. Holliday comes around the desk and perches on the edge.

"You don't remember anything before you were adopted, do you? That's not unusual."

"What does this have to do with my future?"

Ms. Holliday smiles blandly and retreats again behind the desk. She sorts through some papers, searching for something. Eventually, she holds up a black and white line drawing of children on a playground.

"Personality has a lot to do with what type of career would make you happy. Why don't we play a relationship game? Tell me which character in this picture you relate to most."

Blaine scans the picture. A boy stands on top of the jungle gym, two girls teeter-totter, a boy holds an umbrella for a girl. But it's just a picture until he spots the final child.

"Probably the one hiding behind the tree." Ms. Holliday's eyebrows shoot up, and he hastily adds, "I was sort of kidding."

"No, that's interesting. That's a hard place to be. I've been behind the tree myself. Okay, let me tell you this story about when I started teaching. I followed all the rules, did everything by the book. Then I got punched in the face by a girl named Cameo."

"I don't want to get punched in the face," Blaine says, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"But you have to, Blaine. Otherwise you won't really be living. You'll just be going through the motions. Change is scary, and so is putting yourself out there in the world. But it is so worth it."

"Coming out from behind the tree," Blaine muses.

"Exactly!"

"How did you do that?"

"I started by dressing up like Abraham Lincoln, but you might try something more low-key."

Later, he wonders if they were talking about two different things. To Ms. Holliday, Blaine putting himself out there probably means getting into a situation that makes him expose his powers. But to Blaine, coming out of hiding is exactly that. He can't ever really live the life he wants until he comes out.

o

Kurt isn't looking forward to his college counseling session with Ms. Holliday for a number of reasons. One, she's not a guidance counselor. Two, he doesn't want to even think about how little chance he has at getting into his top choices. Tina has already given him a summary of her session, and his will go the same way.

"To be honest, I'd never actually heard of NYADA before I saw it listed as your top choice," Ms. Holliday says, looking through Kurt's records. "I did some research about their requirements, and I have some concerns about your chances."

"I know. I'm zero on extracurriculars since the Czarina and her minions took over glee club, and I don't have any credits because this school has never actually put on a spring musical like we're supposed to. But that doesn't mean I don't love performing. It's what I want to do with my life, and New York is my dream. I don't want to go anywhere else."

Ms. Holliday closes the folder and slides it aside. "If that's what you want, then you have to fight for it. If other people won't give you what you're looking for, you have to seize every opportunity to create situations that work to your advantage."

Kurt works his face into a mask. They are not talking about performing. He has no delusions this conversation was ever about NYADA. But he can't let her know that he knows that or the game will be up, and he doesn't know what happens then. Something terrible, he's sure.

"I have to convince someone to do a musical and show them what a good idea it is to cast me as a lead," he says.

The corners of Ms. Holliday's lips turn up. "You would be amazeballs at my job."

Kurt knows which job she means. And he agrees. Because he is a fantastic actor.

o

"Hi, Kurt."

Kurt's jumps about a foot in the air and holds his hand to his chest. "God, Blaine. You can't sneak up on me like that after I've just survived gym class."

"Sorry."

Something about his demeanor raises red flags for Kurt. Blaine has never been great about hiding his emotions, but he's completely worthless at it when it comes to Kurt. His smile is a little too forced, as if he's afraid he'll be caught doing something wrong or Kurt will send him away, as if Kurt would ever do that.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just coming out from behind the tree."

"What?"

"Nothing. Something Ms. Holliday said."

Kurt eyes him appraisingly. "How did that go?"

He shrugs. "Not a big deal, really. She's undercover. She's not exactly tying us to chairs and shining lights on our faces."

"Good then." He waves at Santana and Tina. "Ladies, join us! I have something else important to talk about."

"Sure. You can borrow my pumps to complete your outfit," Santana says with a wicked smirk. "I have a green floral pair that would match that vest you're wearing that I definitely saw in the misses department."

Kurt ignores her.

"As you are aware, the annual Halloween party at Puck's is coming up this weekend, and I won't be able to be seen with you there if our costumes aren't coordinated."

"Oh, damn. And here I was hoping to spend the evening with you."

Kurt rides right over Santana again. "I've been working on designs, and I think I have the perfect idea. It's Halloween without being cliché and just controversial enough for an extra little thrill. Wait for it." Kurt practically quivers with excitement. "Rocky Horror!"

Santana lifts an eyebrow. "You want us –" she motions between herself and Blaine "– to dress up as transvestite humanoid aliens who come to Earth with the sole purpose of seducing humans? That is so on the nose and so far from the truth at the same time, and I can't deal with the paradox it will create."

"Point taken. Okay, Plan B. Sweeney Todd."

"But then Tina won't be in costume."

Kurt frowns deeply at Santana, and she flashes him a shit-eating grin. "Fine. Fine. We'll just all clash like a horrible Oscar night ensemble put together by Bjork!"

Kurt slams his locker closed and strides down the hallway with his chin in the air. Blaine sends Santana a stern glare, but leaves Tina to give her the verbal reminder that she does have a filter somewhere beneath that bitchy exterior. He hurries after Kurt and catches him in the exterior corridor between the commons and classroom buildings.

"Hey, Kurt," he calls out. "Come on. Don't let Santana get to you, okay? She's just being … Santana. I think coordinating outfits is a great idea. I loved what you put together for us at the Crash Festival."

Kurt thaws a little, and Blaine tugs the sleeve of his white button up so they step out of the way of students going to class. He doesn't remove his hand from Kurt's elbow. Blaine leans against the plastic partition that screens the walkway from the parking lot. The height difference is more pronounced, and he gets to gaze up at Kurt from under his lashes.

"Whatever you want us to wear, I'll wrestle Santana into it. I promise. Just please tell me you'll create our costumes?"

Kurt preens. "Okay."

"Okay." Blaine beams. "By the way, was I supposed to go as Frank?"

Kurt lowers his eyes, blushing as he says, "I would have let you get away with Frank, but I was holding out hope for a brunette Rocky."

Blaine would have never agreed, not in this town and maybe not anywhere, but he can't help but feel incredibly proud of himself that Kurt wants to see him in tiny, revealing shorts. With a final shy look, Kurt spins and flounces off towards his next class. Blaine can't help but stare at his amazing ass as he bounces away.

Then he's falling. That's strange because Blaine doesn't normally just fall down. But he's not falling, exactly. He's flying. His back connects forcefully with the hard plastic walls, and he hears something pop – the plastic from the metal bracket, he thinks – and his chest aches with the ghost pressure of the hands that pushed him. He hits the concrete in a heap and blinks up at a letterman jacket.

"Fag," Karofsky spits.

So this is what it feels like to come out from behind the tree.

---

BLAME IT ON THE ALCOHOL, PART I

Kurt finally decides they should go to the Halloween party as a steampunk airship crew. He's dressed in a double-breasted leather military jacket with tails, beige riding pants, and knee-high buckled boots. Flying goggles hang around his neck. He looks rather fetching, if he does say so himself. And so does Blaine in his aviator gear – bomber jacket, riding pants, and combat boots. A chunky brass monocle held in place with a tight leather head strap covers his right eye.

"This is really messing up my depth perception," Blaine complains. "Doesn't the aviator usually have the flying goggles and the Captain has the monocle?"

"Just stay close to me. I won't let you fall down," Kurt promises.

With a brush of fingertips over Blaine's arm for assurance, he skips across the hallway to his bathroom where Tina and Santana are finishing their costumes with his kit of stage make-up. The entire theme came to him as punishment for Santana. She has on the equivalent of Blaine's aviator costume, but with a short skirt, knee socks, and spike-heeled boots. Also, a corset. A very tight corset that currently makes bending over a problem. Kurt tries not to smirk when she paws at it.

"Is this too much?"

Tina turns for him to inspect the artful "grease" streaked over her face. She looks magnificent as their mechanic. She wears a flared skirt, leather tunic, and green military jacket also streaked with "grease" with grease rags stuffed in the pockets, and a tool belt with too many buckles.

"We look amazing!" Kurt says clapping his hands. "Blaine, get in here. We need to take a picture."

They arrange themselves in front of the mirror, trying to find an angle that doesn't cast a glare back, and snap a few mediocre pictures until Burt finds them and takes pity on them. He eyes Blaine warily, but a sharp look from Kurt prompts him to keep his thoughts to himself. Once he's taken a photo with each of their phones, they call their thanks and goodbyes and head over to Puck's for the party.

The party isn't actually at Puck's house. Rather, it's in the warehouse at the abandoned spoon factory just off 285, but it's Puck who brings the bolt cutters and alcohol every year, so they call it Puck's party. Cars pack the parking lot already by the time Tina pulls up in the car she'd managed to borrow from her parents after signing – literally – an agreement to not drink and drive.

On their way into the warehouse, they see Finn Hudson and Quinn Fabray making out in the bed of his truck like the classy people they are. Mike Chang is trying to organize an epic rendition of Thriller at midnight that they get roped into. The jock block is shotgunning beers and congratulating each other on their ability to burp the alphabet.

The music isn't exactly to Kurt's taste, but it has a strong beat and it could have been worse with Artie as the DJ. The old overhead lights have been turned on, but the filaments are dying so it's dim at best and dark most places in the warehouse. Almost everyone from school, plus tons of people they don't recognize, have turned out in costumes that vary in creativity.

"We have the best costumes," Kurt says definitively. "If this was a party with any sophistication, we'd get a fabulous prize."

"Yeah, well, we're in Roswell, so our prize is going to be whatever cheap alcohol Puck scrounged up," Santana says. "Don't bother yourselves, boys, we'll get you something to wash away those inhibitions that are keeping you from giving up this hopeless ruse of friendship and just boning so we can be done with the awkward sexual tension that surrounds us every second you're in each other's presence."

Santana grabs Tina by the wrist and pulls her through the moving crowd leaving Kurt red-cheeked and Blaine glaring at the back of her retreating head. He turns to Kurt apologetically, but he waves it off.

"You don't have to apologize for her. She's only saying –"

"KURT!"

The screech draws his attention to Rachel Berry. She's wearing some god-awful sage green frock, and he doesn't even know what that costume is all about. She zigzags her way over to him and crushes him in a hug that pins his arms to his sides. Her drink tips and spills – "My pink! Oh well." – on the floor. They haven't spoken since last year when Kurt walked out of glee club, and he doesn't particularly want to spend this – or any – evening with her ever again.

"I've missed you, Kurt. You were my only real competition." She rolls her head, blinks at Blaine, and transfers her clinginess onto him. She regards him through her lashes. "Well, hello, Blaine Anderson. How about you and I go dance?" She swivels her hips in the way that makes Blaine dance alright. He dances right away from her.

"Rachel, you have a boyfriend," Kurt reminds her.

"He threw an egg at me," she pouts.

Kurt can't even imagine the drama that has gone on in Vocal Adrenaline since he left. He wonders if it's more or less all-consuming than the 'my not quite boyfriend is an alien being hunted by the FBI because he used his powers to save my life' situation he's been in for a little over a month now. Probably more, knowing Rachel and Jesse as he does.

Rachel turns back to Blaine hopefully. He just looks uncomfortable.

"I'd like to dance," he answers. "But just so we're clear … I don't play for your team." Because she doesn't seem to get it in her inebriated state, he clarifies for her, "I'm gay."

Kurt does a double take, but keeps his thoughts silent until Rachel stops gushing about her two gay dads and wonders away to unwittingly proposition someone else. She's heading towards Puck. No surprise there.

"So … you're out," Kurt says.

Blaine laughs nervously and scratches at the back of his neck. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it for a while and weighing the need to stay inconspicuous with my desire to be honest about who I am. I'm proud of who I am, and I don't want to hide anymore." He sighs and amends, "Well, that part of me anyway."

"I'm proud of you, Blaine."

A bright smile lights up his face. "I want you to be. You inspire me, Kurt."

Kurt's breath catches in his throat, and he stares in wonder at this gorgeous boy who's come into his life, flipped it upside down, and made him feel so right. He wants to lean down and kiss him senseless, their bargain be damned, and might if they weren't surrounded by homophobic classmates with enough alcohol in their systems to wash away better judgment. So instead, he settles for words.

"You inspire me too," he replies.

They could argue about this. Blaine's compassion and selflessness inspired trust and loyalty in Kurt. Kurt's courage and strength inspired trust and loyalty in Blaine. It could go in circles forever if they wanted to debate it. But they don't, so they leave it undecided to secretly feel that the other is the better man.

"Where are the girls with the drinks?"

They scan the crowd, but even by the drink table they can't distinguish between the dark backs of heads, and they give up waiting for Santana and Tina to return. Getting over to the table without getting separated is a challenge, and they're not a quarter of the way before Blaine grabs Kurt's hand. He looks over his shoulder questioningly, trying to not let the thrill overwhelm him.

"So I guess this means that the whole 'we can't be around each other' line is just totally obliterated, huh?" he asks breathily.

Blaine can't hear him over the music, so he leans in close and speaks directly into Blaine's ear. The sculpted curls tickle Kurt's cheek, and the scent of raspberry and boy overwhelms him. He wants to let his eyes flutter closed and fall into it forever. Blaine's laugh passes like a ghost over his cheek, and shivers fly up Kurt's spine.

"I don't think I ever stood a chance of staying away from you."

Blaine turns, circles Kurt, and takes the lead towards the drinks. Kurt is positive he felt the brush of lips against his jaw, and his heart thuds wildly in his chest. His legs move on muscle memory, because his brain can't process anything but the tingling patch of skin Blaine kissed.

Puck is behind the table mixing drinks. Blaine pulls two red Solo cups from the pile and holds them out to Puck. There's a unique Puck-created drink that he's heard infamous stories about he wants to try.

"I'll have an Alien Blast," Blaine says.

"Me too," Kurt growls.

Growls. Blaine stares slack-jawed at a blushing Kurt until Puck yells at him that his damned cup his full and to move the fuck along so other people can experience the wonder of Puckzilla's bartending skills. Blaine hands one of the cups to Kurt, and they hurry along without quite meeting each other's eyes. Eye, in Blaine's case, since his right eye is useless behind the monocle.

"It's really hot in here," Kurt mumbles, but he's right behind Blaine, so he speaks into his ear when he says it.

True to the Halloween theme, there's more to the party than just loud music and dancing. Puck's cousin's stepbrother's girlfriend (or some other web of relation) has procured a tractor and wagon. They're doing hayrides around the grounds. Also, some drunk geniuses are playing dodge ball with pumpkins.

"Do you want to …?"

The hayride sounds like a good plan to Blaine, so they climb up, careful not to spill their drinks, and takes seats across from Lauren Zizes who is deep in conversation with a mousy girl from AV about what a fantastic boyfriend Robert Pattinson would be, except it sounds more like she's talking about Edward Cullen and doesn't get the difference between actor and character.

Blaine takes a sip of his drink. It's sharp and strong, and Blaine grimaces after swallowing a mouthful, but it passes after a minute. Everything feels better. He's tingling and floating and on a romantic hayride with the boy he loves. He sighs wistfully, lets his head fall onto Kurt's shoulder, and stares up into his pretty blue-green eyes.

"You are so beautiful."

Kurt freezes. He's torn between preening, because a boy has never told him that before, and freaking out, because what the actual fuck? They're on a hayride with letterman jackets for Christ's sake. He gets that they've pushed boundaries tonight, but a stolen kiss on the cheek is a far cry from … this. This is stupid and dangerous and they both know that. The tractor sputters to life and begins the bumpy roll over the rough terrain around the warehouse. Blaine sways without putting up any resistance, like he has no control of his muscles to do so. He nuzzles his nose into Kurt's neck.

"You smell amazing," Blaine adds. "Like such a boy."

"Oh my God, Blaine. You have to stop."

Kurt glances around nervously at the other people on the hayride. They've drawn Lauren's attention, but she looks more intrigued than anything else. But they've also caught Karofsky's eye, and he's not interested. He's glaring.

"Blaine, sit up," he says tensely.

"Can't. Feel funny," Blaine slurs.

Slurs. Kurt peers into the red plastic cup tipping in Blaine's hand. If he hadn't seen Blaine take a drink, he would think none of the liquid was gone.

"Oh, fuck my life," Kurt mutters. "Of course alcohol and alien physiology don't mix well. Okay. We have to get you up. Now."

With some difficulty, he manages to get Blaine to sit up on his own. He's dead weight and full of such insights such as: "Your skin is so pale. It's so pale, Kurt. How do you do that in the desert? It's amazing. It's so amazing" and "We should totally do a duet, Kurt. If there was a stage here, we could sing Don't You Want Me? because the 80's are awesome, Kurt, and I have no idea – no freaking idea – why we aren't together already." Kurt kind of wants to smack him and kind of wants to kiss him. Drunk people are funny and annoying and too truthful.

"Okay. There you go. Just stay sitting up on your own."

Kurt sits tensely, sneaking glances at Karofsky and planning their escape when the hayride comes to its end. He texts Tina a simple warning – "911. Meet at the car." – and goes back to worrying. The back wheel hits a rut, and Blaine flops over again in the middle of his speech on the wonders of Kurt's scarf collection. Only this time, his face lands in Kurt's lap.

It would be freaking hilarious if only it didn't draw out a snarl from Karofsky.

---

BLAME IT ON THE ALCOHOL, PART II

Santana drags Tina straight past the makeshift bar – a fold out table – where Puck plays bartender with his vile "alien blast" concoction that gave him a free ticket to impregnate Quinn Fabray two years ago. They emerge into the cool night air on the opposite side of the warehouse, and Santana heads for another building with dirt-covered windows and corrugated metal sides.

"Hey, wait. What about Kurt and Blaine?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Do you really think our pretty ponies will even notice we're gone?"

Tina can't deny that. "Okay, but you're not thirsty? I've never seen you or Blaine at one of these parties. You're telling me you're not dying to live up the night as a normal teenager for once?"

"As a matter of fact, I am looking forward to being a normal teenager tonight, but not by drinking myself under the table. I thought, since you have the boring job of being our DD, you should get the chance to play with a couple Cs."

She frames her breasts with her palms and winks lasciviously. Tina's cheeks burn pink, but she grins widely and nods quickly. With a laugh, Santana takes her wrist again and resumes the retreat to their dark hiding place. Tina sees a warehouse full of rusted metal shelving, but only for a second before her eyes slam closed when Santana crashes their lips together.

They spin and sway in the darkness, fingers digging into silky hair and soft hips, until the backs of Tina's thighs hit a high table, and she settles on the edge. Santana kisses possessively. She holds Tina's head in place while she sucks and tastes and licks into her mouth. Tina likes it. It makes her feel sexy and bold, and she doesn't give up control without some fight.

Santana's lips are so soft and full, and she always tastes like sugar and spice from the sweets and Tabasco sauce and other odd combinations her alien taste buds enjoy. Tina licks into the seam of her lips, and Santana parts with a sharp breath and slides her tongue along Tina's. Her fingers press into Santana's hips where the corset ends and her sinfully short skirt begins. She takes a risk, lowers her hands to the bare skin between the bottom of the skirt and exposed garters buckled high on Santana's thighs. Santana breaks away with a surprised gasp.

"Is this okay?" Tina asks.

"Yeah. Just didn't take you for the below-the-waist type."

"There's a lot you have to learn about me."

With a mischievous smile, she tugs on Santana's thighs, and she falls forward. Her arms hastily loop around Tina's neck to keep her balance, and their bodies slot together thigh-between-thighs. Tina releases a strangled cry when Santana rubs against her just right and her head falls back. The other girl ducks her head and attaches her lips to the column of exposed neck. Tina can feel the corners of her mouth turned up.

"Proud of yourself?"

"Extremely," Santana laughs.

Santana bites and sucks at her skin, and Tina knows she'll have a hickey tomorrow, but it feels so good she doesn't ask her to stop. The corset Santana is wearing pushes her breasts up high, and through the thin cotton shirt, Tina can feel her peaked nipples. She forces Santana's head up, kisses her so hard and sloppy her swollen lips ache from it, and trails kisses down her jaw and neck. She parts the already gaping shirt and mouths over the swell of Santana's breasts.

Santana's body arches into her, and she pushes out a moan through tight lips. Every shift makes her rub up between Tina's legs more, and it takes her a few minutes to realize Santana is doing it on purpose. The girl knows what she's doing, and damn it feels good. Tina's so turned on her body thrums with it.

"Oh my God, you feel amazing," Tina whispers into her skin.

"I would feel better without this." She paws at the corset cinched around her waist. "Fucking Hummel and his fucking corsets," Santana curses.

Tina laughs and nuzzles against Santana's breast bone. Her fingers caress the soft skin of Santana's thighs and slide up under her skirt. She runs her fingertips along the place where her thighs meet a perfect, pert behind and feels the lacy edge of panties. It hits her that maybe this has gone too far.

"We should probably cool off," Tina says.

Santana pulls back, incredulousness knitting her eyebrows. "You're kidding, right? You're about two inches and one good thrust from becoming whole new woman and you want to stop?"

Tina returns her hands to Santana's hips and pushes her back a couple inches. Santana huffs and looks away, but Tina pets at her hips and shifts around trying to make eye contact. Santana crosses her arms over her chest and refuses, so Tina just talks anyway.

"We should talk about this … us and what we're doing. I love sneaking off to kiss you in the eraser room and my bedroom and my car and under the bleachers and I think you were trying to get me to meet you in the school kitchen yesterday?"

"I saw the lunch ladies leaving for the day."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I just think instead of one of our secret make-out sessions, we should talk about what we're doing and why and what that means for us."

"We're hot seventeen-year-old girls making out everywhere we have two seconds of privacy. What the hell do you think it means? It's been four freaking years since I've done anything with anyone. I'm freaking horny as fuck, sick of my right hand, and you're into me. So, there you go. Meaning found."

Tina crosses her arms over her chest, cocks her head to the side, and lifts an eyebrow. "Really?"

Santana's resolve wavers, but she's so scared to say out loud what her attraction to Tina really means. "I tell it like it is. You know that. You either love me or hate me, and I don't care which one it is. This is who I –"

" – pretend to be. I've already seen past your walls, Santana. You can't put them back up and expect to fool me. And you don't get to lash out at me because you're angry at yourself for feeling something you can't control."

Santana breathes out sharply through her nose and looks away. How can Tina say things like that without spitting them like insults and accusations? She wishes that's how the words sounded, because then she'd have an excuse to be angry at Tina.

"I really like you, Santana. I'm confused about the labels, but I know how I feel about you."

Santana shakes her head. "I'm not ready for that. I just … I can't, Tina. It's not even about how much attention it would attract. I'm just not ready to hold your hand in the hallway and go to an Indigo Girls concert."

"It might come as a surprise to most of the kids who attend our school, but you don't have to paw at your significant other in the hallway. As long as we can tell Kurt and Blaine and my parents, I'll be happy."

"Significant other?" Santana asks softly.

Tina shrugs, looks down, toes at the ground. "I mean … if you wanted to be my girlfriend."

Santana has done the dating thing before. They were all relationships that were barely deserving of the name with breakups that followed too many prying questions. But with Tina, she has a shot at something real. She feels something for this girl that she's not ready to name, but it's definitely there. She already knows Santana is an alien, and it doesn't concern her at all. And she's … Tina.

A smile curls up the corners of Santana's mouth. She starts to speak, but the ringtone for a text message from Kurt interrupts. It's probably just Kurt asking where they are, but there's always the chance at a party like this, in a town like this, that it's something more.

"We have to go," Tina says sharply. "Kurt texted 9-1-1, and he never abuses it. The last time he said it was an emergency, Azimio had thrown a slushie in his face."

"The fuck?" Santana demands. "Who does shit like that?"

"Azimio's one bright idea, apparently. They'll meet us at the car."

The conversation is on hold, but they're too concerned about their friends to even say so. The party is still in full swing in the warehouse, and the hayride wagon rumbles and bumps over the rough terrain. Kurt and Blaine aren't at the car when they arrive.

"Two minutes," Santana allows.

They're the longest two minutes of her life. Dread grows in her stomach. When the time runs up, she texts Kurt and Blaine: "Looking for you. Text when you get to car." Tina leaves the car unlocked so they can get in if they need to. And then they look for the most likely culprits: letterman jackets.

o

Kurt is prepared when the hayride comes to a stop. He's had about a quarter hour to plan how this will go down. As soon as the wheels stop turning, he draws Blaine's arm over his shoulder and hoists the other boy up. They're closer to the back of the wagon than Karofsky, and he's banking on several other people blocking the way giving them a few more seconds to scramble down.

His calculations go wrong because Blaine is less coordinated than usual and because Karofsky is angrier than usual.

"Where you going in such a rush, homo?" Karofsky asks.

Azimio and some lacrosse player, Rick something-or-other, stand up too. Their unbalanced weight rocks the wagon, and Blaine collapses heavily onto Kurt. Blaine has mostly figured out something bad is happening, but the alcohol in his system makes him otherwise worthless. At least he's not rambling about Kurt's beautiful eyes and pale skin anymore.

Kurt tries to make a point of not responding when an insult substitutes his name, but ignoring the jocks makes them just as angry as a witty retort they're too dense to understand.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Karofsky catches Kurt's shoulder and spins him around. The quick movement sends Blaine's head spinning, and he stumbles into a bale of hay. He barely catches himself from tumbling over the side of the wagon. Kurt tries to go to him, but Karofsky catches him by the jacket. The people on the hayride recognize the dangerous situation and surreptitiously slip away before they're caught in the crossfire.

"What is your problem?" Kurt snarls.

"My problem is you spreading around your gay." Karofsky jerks his head in Blaine's direction. "You think we didn't notice you setting your sights on Anderson? You're always all over him, and now look at him. He's just as faggy as you are."

"Being gay isn't a communicable disease," Kurt fires back.

"Well, it sure looks like you communicatin' it," Azimio says.

Kurt can't stop his eyes from rolling. "Yes, and it looks like the sun touches the horizon."

Not surprisingly, the jocks can't work that one out. From the corner of his eye, Kurt can see Blaine climbing to his feet unsteadily. He almost tips out of the wagon again, and that, more than Karofsky's threatening hands on him, worries Kurt.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson. About respect and keeping your hands to yourself."

"That's ironic," Blaine slurs, "considering you've got your hands on Kurt."

Karofsky's face twists. It takes him a minute to decide how to react to Blaine's insolence, but when he does, it's too fast for Kurt to stop him. He lets go of Kurt's jacket and slams his palms into Blaine's chest. In his inebriated state, Blaine doesn't think to tense up his muscles and offer resistance. He flies through the air right off the end of the high wagon and lands on the ground with a heavy thud and a sharp crack.

---

AB-POSITIVE

Kurt remembers very little about what happened after Blaine fell. He knows he jumped off the wagon and twisted his ankle; he knows the jocks ran; he knows someone called an ambulance; he knows the girls showed up. But all he remembers is riding in the back of the ambulance, staring at Blaine and avoiding the medic's questions about his ankle. Honestly, his ankle doesn't hurt at all. He can't even feel anything below the knee.

"Is he going to be okay?"

He thinks he asks it about a hundred times. At the hospital, he fights off the paramedics and hobbles after Blaine as he's wheeled into the emergency room. The doctor allows Kurt to stay by Blaine's bed because he has questions.

"You were with him?" Kurt nods. "When did he lose consciousness?"

"About half an hour ago."

It's funny how Kurt's senses return when the question is about Blaine's wellbeing.

The doctors won't let him stay standing after that. Some younger doctors direct him to the bed beside Blaine's, and they get to work patching up his ankle. He doesn't resist because he's able to watch them work on Blaine. Just the sight of him, eyes closed and unmoving, puts a pit into Kurt's stomach. He wants to cry and scream and clutch at Blaine's chest, it feels that traumatic. Blaine, who saved Kurt's life with a touch, relies on human ingenuity and medicine to bring him back.

"Has he been IDed?" The doctor asks. "All right. Let's call his parents. There's no sign of bleeding or swelling, but we should still do an MRI. While we wait for it to open up, get a blood test."

He asks for something – a certain gauge of needle, maybe – but Kurt has stopped listening. His eyes lock onto the dark red liquid filling up the glass tube, and his heart beats wildly in his chest. If they look at those cells under a microscope, they'll see what Kurt saw: oblong cells with dark, vivid black nuclei and swirling green cytoplasm. Beautiful, microscopic nebulas. Alien cells.

Santana and Tina burst into the emergency room just as the phlebotomist is pulling the needle out of Blaine's arm. Tina rushes over to Kurt, but Santana has frozen. She stares at the vial slipped into the plastic tote that will go to the lab for testing. When Kurt won't answer, and Santana doesn't move, Tina follows their line of sight. She's never seen their cells under a microscope, but she's a smart girl and puts the pieces together.

The doctors, nurses, and interns move on to other patients eventually. They promise someone will come back when the MRI opens up. It sounds more like a threat to those who know Blaine isn't human.

"I'll get the blood," Tina says.

"You, seriously?" Santana scoffs.

"Yes, me. Seriously. Your in-your-face, queen-bitch methods aren't getting you anywhere with Carole Hudson. I'll handle it."

Santana shakes her head, not quite understanding, but Tina is in too much of a hurry and Kurt is too worried about Blaine to explain that, contrary to what one might think, Finn Hudson's mother is an intelligent woman who runs the hospital's laboratory.

Santana steps up to Blaine's bed and takes his hand. She brushes his curls off his forehead and tenderly runs her fingers through the parts flattened by the leather strap holding the monocle in place. The medics removed it. Blaine had landed on the costume piece – the sharp crack when he fell was the plastic busting – and the force of impact had left angry red slices around his eye. It had started to bruise as well. It makes Kurt sick to think he'd forced Blaine to wear it.

"She can't get that blood. What are we going to do?" Santana worries.

"What have you done before?"

The girl shakes her head. "Nothing like this has ever happened."

"What about when you get sick?"

"We don't ever get sick."

Kurt regards Santana for a moment. The worry creasing her brow and the corners of her eyes makes her look older, more serious. She can't stop touching Blaine, like she thinks he might disappear if she doesn't have a hold of him. And if that happens ….

"I'm not trying to take him away from you, Santana."

"Good. Because he's all I have."

"Take my blood."

Santana looks up sharply, almost like she's surprised to see Kurt even though she's been speaking to him. "What?"

"Take my blood. We'll switch it with Blaine's."

She stares while Kurt swings his legs over the side of the bed. He's horribly lopsided with one foot in its boot and the other wrapped in gauze. He almost stumbles, but to his surprise, Santana catches him. She gazes up at him like she's never seen him before. Maybe she hasn't. To her, he's been the stupid human Blaine risked everything for. Maybe now she finally sees him as someone worth saving.

"You know this is illegal."

"Like lying to the police? Breaking and entering? Theft? I've seen what your cells look like under a microscope, Santana. We can't let them analyze his blood. Let's go find a needle and vial."

Santana nods, and they finally stop wasting time.

o

Unlike Seattle Grace-Mercy West, Roswell-Chaves County Hospital has its quiet moments and spaces. Tonight is busier than most because it's Halloween and that brings out the crazies, but on the whole the basement is quiet. Tina's heels click against the floor and echo off the bare walls, but otherwise she hears only the buzz of the hospital overhead.

The door of the lab up ahead stands open, and Tina slips into the waiting room. On the other side of a glass divider sits a chair and table where blood is taken for those patients able to walk down to the lab. It's empty and dark tonight. Tina hurries through the room, grateful for the carpeting to muffle her heels, and edges into the testing room.

The harsh florescent lights illuminate the counters where microscopes, centrifuges, and racks of blood samples sit. To the right, a bank of medical coolers buzz on the other side of a dividing counter where two other technicians work during the day. Tonight, only Mrs. Hudson is on call, and she's nowhere to be found.

Tina hurries over to the neat plastic racks and thumbs through the long rows of blood samples waiting to be tested. A print-out label is affixed to each vial with the surname larger than the rest of the information.

"Anderson … Anderson … Ander –"

She almost doesn't hear it under her muttering: the click of a high heel on the linoleum in the hallway. Tina freezes. Mrs. Hudson doesn't wear heels to work (or anywhere, for that matter). Tina darts to the right and ducks behind the other work counter just in time. Muffled footsteps enter the lab, and the tinkling of glass vials touching one another starts up. Whoever is in the lab is looking for a blood sample too.

Tina knows she has to look. She has to find out who is snooping around, but she terrified of what happens if her head pops up over the counter at the same time the sneak looks in her direction. She expels a calming breath, but she's saved from having to look.

"Excuse me? What are you doing in here?" Mrs. Hudson asks sharply.

"Oh, hello."

Tina blanches. She knows that voice. Ms. Holliday.

"I'm here for my blood test." Silence passes. "I was told to come here at eleven?"

"In the morning," Mrs. Hudson says pointedly. "We don't do tests after six unless a doctor orders them for a patient."

"Oh, how silly of me. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Ms. Holliday flees before too many questions can be asked. Tina's insides gnaw with worry. Did she get the blood sample? Or is Mrs. Hudson about to look at Blaine's blood under a microscope? Either way, something terrible will happen if she doesn't act now. She swings out from the other end of the counter and hastily takes a wide step over to the open door. She raps on it twice with her knuckles.

Mrs. Hudson spins around in her chair and offers a polite smile, as if she vaguely recognizes Tina as one of Finn's schoolmates. Tina wants to be an actress. She has plans to study musical theater in New York. She can do this.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Hudson. It's just that my friend is upstairs, and they told me you're doing his blood test, and …" Tina sniffs, letting the called up emotions wash over her. Her lower lip trembles, and her eyes mist. "I'm so worried about him."

"Oh, sweetheart," Mrs. Hudson coos. "Come here and sit down for a moment."

Mrs. Hudson ushers Tina into a chair and rubs her back soothingly while the girl lets the very real worry and stress of the situation turn into tears that spill freely down her cheeks. She talks through it all, blubbering about how close she and Blaine are – even though they're really not, and they should probably work on that now that they're all in this together – and how much he means to Kurt. Her words are hardly recognizable through her tears.

"Tina, sweetheart, listen to me."

So Mrs. Hudson does know her name. She remembers from years and years ago when she came over to the Hudson's for a birthday party that everyone in class had been invited too. She feels a little guilty about playing on the heartstrings of such a kind woman.

"From what the doctor ordered, it doesn't sound like he's worried about finding anything in Blaine's blood. It's just a precaution, okay? And if he thought the head trauma was serious, he would have cleared the MRI right away. I think Blaine's going to be just fine, okay?"

Tina nods and draws in a great, shuddering breath that turns into more tears. Mrs. Hudson turns and glances around the room, but apparently doesn't find what she's looking for.

"Let me go get you some tissues, okay?"

The second she's gone, Tina bolts out of the chair and rapidly searches through the dozens of blood samples waiting in the trays. She spots the surname Anderson finally, and her heart skips a beat. It's not in the tray with the rest; it's lying on Mrs. Hudson's clipboard. She had been that close to testing his blood. Just to be sure, Tina grabs the slide from the microscope too.

She's back in her chair succumbing to more waterworks when Mrs. Hudson comes back into the room with a box of Kleenex. The vial of blood and microscope dig into the skin of her calf where she shoved them down her boot.

"Th-thank you, M-Mrs. Hudson," she cries.

"You're a sweet girl to care so much about your friend."

Tina hurries away from the lab before she's caught out and texts Kurt and Santana when she's in the elevator. Santana's reply leads her to an empty patient room on the third floor – two above emergency.

"I got it," she says triumphantly.

She stops short when she sees what's going on in the room. A plastic tourniquet restricts blood flow through Kurt's extended arm, and Santana has a needle and vial in hand while he prods around his arm trying to find a vein.

"Are you insane?" Tina hisses. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"It doesn't matter if she does or not. We have to replace Blaine's blood with a human's, and since they can tell male from female blood, I'm the only option." He looks up at Santana. "Just do it. I don't think you can kill me with a sterile needle."

Tina cringes when Santana slips the needle into Kurt's arm. She fixes the vial into the hollow tube, and it fills up with dark red liquid. When she's done, she passes her hand over Kurt's skin. The angry red mark that would normally bleed lightly closes over. No one will ever know Kurt had blood drawn.

"Wait. The label," Tina says.

Santana uses her powers to peel it off the original and paste it onto the new one.

"Now let's get down to Blaine's bed with that. When Mrs. Hudson comes looking for it, the story is that she forgot it, and it's been on the table the whole time," Tina says.

They ride the elevator down because Kurt can't climb stairs with his ankle and shuffle him back into the bed next to Blaine's again just before Mrs. Hudson shows up. She buys the story that she forgot the blood sample. She rubs Tina's back and casts her a sympathetic look as she departs.

"So maybe you do have deviousness in you," Santana compliments her.

o

Carole is on call tonight, which means she gets to go home as soon as she's done with urgent work, and Blaine's blood sample was the final test of the night. She'd found nothing more unusual than a rare blood type, just like she'd told Tina Cohen-Chang would probably be the case. Carole does a double take in the lobby. A man she hasn't seen in about ten years – and that's something in Roswell – sits in the uncomfortable chairs that have been losing their cushion for years.

"Burt? Burt Hummel?"

He glances up, and annoyance fades into guarded friendliness. "Carole Hudson. You still on a crusade to slander my restaurant?"

"That depends if you're still serving over a thousand calories on one plate," she returns.

Burt laughs and shakes his head. "No. Kurt took care of that a few years ago. It's still burger and fries, but you can't see the grease on the plate anymore."

"Smart kid."

"Yeah, you'd think."

Carole's brow furrows, and she takes a seat across from Burt without being asked. Normally, she'd never be so bold, but she's still in a consoling mood after Tina's breakdown in her lab. Burt tries to brush off his concern, but gives in after a minute of hedging.

"It's just … teenage boys, you know? He's been discharged, but he won't leave until his boyfriend wakes up. And I'm not sure how I feel about his boyfriend, who he won't admit is his boyfriend."

He regards Carole sternly, as if to judge whether she has anything to say about Kurt's sexuality. She doesn't. He is who is he. But she's surprised Burt doesn't have something to say himself. The guy she remembers from high school would have had a problem with it. She wonders if his love for Kurt changed his mind. Her love for Finn had changed her in dramatic ways too.

Carole throws a knowing look at him. "Oh, I have stories too. You want to hear one?"

"Sure." Burt shrugs.

"Two years ago, I walk in on Finn singing … to a sonogram. A couple months later, his pregnant girlfriend moves in with us because her parents kicked her out. About a month after that, I find out that the baby isn't Finn's. The father is his best friend. So Quinn moved out and went to live with the Puckermans. They eventually broke up, and she started dating another football player. Then she cheats on him with Finn, who for some unfathomable reason took her back. Now they're talking about getting married this summer and starting a 'real' family together. So, Burt Hummel, tell me … what exactly has Blaine Anderson done to your son?"

Burt blinks twice, huffs, and crosses his arms over his chest. Carole bites her lip to keep from laughing. Burt was always a handsome guy in high school, and popular too, but fatherhood suits him better than a football jersey.

"Come on," she says. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee while you wait."

o

Blaine wakes up after an hour in the hospital. The doctors are surprised by the quick recovery, but chalk it up to his injury not being as bad as they thought. Kurt can't help but wonder if Blaine's healing ability quickened his recovery. He sits on the edge of Blaine's bed, holding his hand and stroking over the soft skin with his thumb. He wants to say so much, but not here.

Blaine's parents arrive a quarter hour after he wakes up. Diane and Christian Anderson are dressed in their Halloween costumes – standard fare, nothing overly creative. Blaine's dad is not what Kurt expected. He's short – shorter than his wife by at least two inches – with a head of wavy, distinguished silver-streaked black hair. He and Blaine could easily be mistaken for biological father and son. When Diane sees Kurt, her mouth presses into a thin line, but Christian has eyes only for his son. He rushes over to Blaine's bed, and the teenagers scatter to give him room. He cups his son's cheeks in his palms and kisses his forehead.

"You have no idea how scared we were, Squirt."

"Dad," Blaine whines.

"Your son is fine," the doctor says, "but I recommend keeping him overnight and doing an MRI tomorrow."

Christian nods immediately, but Blaine shakes his head.

"No, I'm fine. Please, I have a ton of school work, and … I just don't want to stay here, Dad."

His dad regards him skeptically, but nods at last. The doctor scribbles something into his chart and flips his closed.

"Okay, but I want you to take it easy for the next few days. Any headaches or dizziness and you should come back right away."

The doctor leaves them in peace – hopefully to draw up some discharge papers so they can all go home – and Christian goes back to fussing over Blaine. Kurt begins to wonder if the story of the car isn't all that much more tragic because it was so uncharacteristic of Christian Anderson. His eyes dart to Blaine's mom, who still glares at Kurt, and suddenly the puzzle pieces fit together.

"Dad, I'm really fine. My friends were here for me, and I'm awake now. I promise I'm fine."

Christian looks across the bed at Santana. They don't seem exactly friendly towards each other, but they share a nod. Tina offers a small smile, and Christian holds out his hand while they're introduced for the first time. Then he looks at Kurt.

"Dad, this is Kurt," Blaine says softly.

Mr. Anderson does a double take at his son's tone, and then regards Kurt again more closely. Christian seems like a formal man who appreciates gestures, so Kurt holds out his hand and gives a firm handshake.

"It's nice to meet you, Kurt."

His voice is warm and rich and honest.

---

A CERTAIN WAY

Blaine comes back to school on Monday. His dad wanted him to stay home for another day "just in case," but Blaine really did feel better. Physically, at least. He remembers very little of the actual events of Friday night, but Kurt had filled him in at the hospital. Apparently, alien physiology and alcohol did not mix. But neither boy really dwelled on that part.

They had pushed Blaine off the back of a wagon.

When he thought about the words, it didn't sound so bad. Even when he measured the rough height of a wagon, it didn't seem too terrible. The fall was maybe five feet. But facts and figures have a way of obscuring the real issue.

They wanted to cause him bodily harm because he's gay.

And suddenly he has to wonder …. What if they'd been on the edge of a building or a cliff? Would that have changed anything for them? Or is he so vile in their eyes as to not be worthy of the air that fills his lungs every day?

In the hallways at school, Blaine tries to fade into the background like he's always done, but it's impossible now. All anyone is talking about is how Blaine Anderson went to the Halloween party with Kurt Hummel. The rumors swirl and grow, and now he knows what it feels like to be Santana.

Sleep with one person, become the school slut.

Go to one party with a boy, become the social outcast.

At least, in this town.

He knows it's not fair to lump everyone together. Plenty of people continue to ignore him as they always have. A few people tell him he and Kurt are really cute together. Glee club members, mostly, who were friends with Kurt and maybe still are even they don't spend a lot of time together anymore. But those encounters are few and far between.

When Santana finds Blaine after third hour, he's sitting on the floor with his back to the lockers and his books spread out around him. She crouches down beside him to help him gather up the fallout from the locker check.

"Fucking jocks. I'm gonna kill them."

"Santana, no."

"So what are we gonna do?"

"Nothing."

"Excuse me?"

Santana stands up with her arms full of books that Blaine takes from her. He won't meet her eye, but she can see he's embarrassed and angry, and knowing him, about ten minutes away from beating the living crap out of a punching bag.

"They do something to us, we do something to them. Nothing good can come from it. If we use our powers, it'll raise too many questions. Then what I did to Kurt starts coming up again."

"That's why we need to shut them up right now."

"No."

Blaine glares at her, but all she can see is the deep scratches around his eye that he refuses to heal with his powers because it'll be suspicious if he recovers too quickly. She agrees, but has no intention of keeping her word. The jocks are going to pay for messing with her brother, and she's going to have a hella good time letting Snixx come out to play.

The first up is Dave Karofsky. It takes her about two-point-five seconds of watching him check out Sam Evans's ass to realize they've got a massive closet case on their hands. Not that she cares. She bumps into him in the hallway, all apologies, and uses her alien mojo below the belt. Literally. The next time she sees Karofsky, he's itching in places that can't be scratched in public.

"I hope she was worth it," Azimio tells him.

Santana laughs cruelly, and she decides for that zinger, Azimio gets off a little easier. After everyone retreats into their classrooms for last hour, she makes sure all his football things are in his locker, and then she melts the lock into a twisted blob of metal.

She stands back and watches for half an hour while Azimio pulls, punches, and screams at his locker when it won't open. Finally, the janitor has to come pry the door off the hinges. By the time he's done, football practice is halfway over and Coach Tanaka screams at him for the second half. Santana follows to watch that too.

Up last is Rick "the Stick" Nelson, and since he's one failed test away from getting kicked off the lacrosse team, Santana thinks it's only fitting that she changes the answers on his geography test with a simple wave of the hand. The rain in Spain falls mainly "from the sky" is maybe the most awesome answer to that question ever, and it's just douche-y enough to make their teacher irritated when she grades the tests.

She feels pretty damned proud of herself for the next couple days, but it doesn't last. Blaine is furious when he picks her up on Wednesday morning. She's surprised he hasn't snapped before now, but if it's her that makes him finally drop that calm façade and let himself feel angry like he should, then whatever.

"What are you doing? You promise you wouldn't do anything to those guys."

"I promised I wouldn't hurt them, and I haven't. Karofsky's rash went away, Azimio got his locker opened, and Nelson would have failed another test anyway."

"You just …. Will you stop?" Blaine shouts. "You don't have to protect me or take care of me or whatever you're doing."

"Oh, really? Just like you don't have to clean up my messes or talk me out of bad ideas or whatever you're always doing to me?" she fires back. "You are not just my friend, Blaine. You're my brother. I get to do shit like this for you even if it makes you crazy, and you're stuck with me, so you're going to have to deal with it for the rest of your life. So stop bitching about it and start accepting it."

"I can handle my own business."

"No one is questioning how much of a man you are."

"That is not fair, Santana. This has nothing to do with you being a girl, and you know it."

She exhales heavily through her nose. "I know," she concedes. "I just …. Damn it, Blaine. I want to take care of you, okay? I always have, and I always will. I have no freaking clue why I bother when you react like this, but I've always felt like it was my job to protect you." She looks down at her shoes. "And I totally failed on Friday because I was so caught up in what I wanted."

She can feel Blaine glancing over at her while he pulls into the school parking lot, but she won't meet his eyes. He reaches over and takes her hand. She squeezes back. They don't need to say anything else. But it doesn't erase Santana's guilt either.

o

"Uh, Kurt?"

Kurt glances up, and then hastily jumps backwards into the bank of lockers when his eyes land on the WRHS logo on the arm of a letterman jacket.

"Whoa, dude," Finn Hudson says, holding out his palms. "I come in peace."

The phrase rubs Kurt the wrong way considering what Finn's friends did to Blaine. And him, he supposes, but he's so used to it by now it's par for the course. The sprained ankle was new, but Blaine set that to rights even though Kurt wears the bandage for show around the house. Still, it doesn't seem like Finn has come spoiling for a fight, and he's not smart enough to trick Kurt into any plots.

"What do you even want?" Kurt snaps.

"Look, dude, I just want you to know that I don't approve of what those guys did."

Kurt pauses with his French textbook halfway out of his locker. He narrows his eyes at Finn. They've never really had much interaction aside from the occasional class together, but they've known each other practically their whole lives.

"You nailed lawn furniture to my roof. You threw pee balloons at me."

"I wasn't actually there for the pee thing. But I'm really sorry about all of that. I don't know why I did it, but I never did it because you're gay. Now that I know that's why those guys do it, I'm done. I swear."

Kurt lifts a brow. It boggles his mind to think about, but the honesty is all over Finn's slightly dopey face. How anyone could mistake the intention behind the bullying is beyond him, and yet here Finn stands, trying to become a better person. Sometimes, Kurt hates taking the moral high road.

"That's great, Finn. I hope this teaches you to actively question dubious behavior in the future." Finn blinks. Right. Too many big words. "I hope you've grown a backbone?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, dude, totally."

Kurt heads to class, but Finn is right beside him like an overgrown puppy that used to be a stray until Kurt unintentionally showed him a bit of kindness. He sighs in frustration, but Finn doesn't pick up on that.

"Yes, Finn? What else can I do for you?"

"I'm having a video game marathon on Saturday night, and I was thinking maybe you could come over. You could bring your boyfriend, if you wanted to. I figure your dad will probably be picking up my mom at about six or whatever, so you can come over around then."

"My dad …. Picking her up for what?"

"Their date," Finn says brightly.

Kurt feels sick. So this is what it feels like when the person you love most in the world keeps secrets from you.

"I'll … I'll ask Blaine," he manages to get out.

o

"Hey. Where have you been?" Tina asks.

Santana glances up from her history homework, and then back down. Tina takes that as an invitation to join her at the study table in the library. A few other students requested library passes during study hall and sit at nearby tables. They cast annoyed looks at Tina for even whispering.

"I've had a lot of stuff going on with Blaine and ACP classes and everything."

"You didn't return any of my texts."

Santana drops her pencil in the crease of her book, crosses her arms over her homework, and looks up at Tina with a steady gaze. She'd known for days this conversation was coming, and now that it's here, she can't back down from it.

"We can't do this," she says plainly.

Tina's face falls in slow motion. It cuts Santana to the core to watch her crumple and to know she's the cause of it, but she keeps up a brave face, the one she hides behind when she hears untrue rumors about herself or when she watches alien monster movies or when she wants to be a normal teenager and can't.

"Because I'm a girl."

"Because you're human. When I'm with you, I feel things – so many things – that I shouldn't. You make me feel human, but I'm not, and I can't ever forget that. Blaine and I have survived in secret for so long because of who we are together. If one of us doesn't hold up our end …. The end."

Tears escape the corners of Tina's eyes. Not sobs or even a steady flow, but enough to let Santana know her words hurt. The tears sting like slaps, and that's how she knows she's making the right decision.

"I'm weaker when I'm with you, and I can't be weak."

o

The punching bag jerks in the air as Blaine pummels it with his fists. The gloves only absorb so much of the impact, and his hands ache in the best way. The pain reminds him that he's alive, that he's allowed to feel. His anger ebbs away with the sweat pouring down his temples and chest, and though he's exerting himself to his limits, he can breathe easier.

"Am I interrupting?"

Blaine punches the bag twice more to complete his repetitions, and then turns towards Kurt. He looks so out of place in the gym with his layers of designer clothes. He's tensed up, either because he's trying not to touch anything or because he's so rarely felt comfortable in this room, but it's just the two of them after hours.

"I was almost done," Blaine answers.

He lowers his head and starts unwrapping his hands rather than watch Kurt watch him.

"Oh, well …. I just had a very interesting conversation. Apparently, my dad is dating again. He didn't mention it to me."

Kurt sounds upset, and it takes everything Blaine has not to fall into their usual routine of comfort-and-encourage. Kurt doesn't speak for a while, but he goes on when Blaine doesn't respond.

"Anyway. Finn Hudson, of all people, invited us to come over and – I can't believe I'm considering this – play video games. I don't want to go, and I definitely don't want to play video games, but I am curious about this date I haven't been told about, and it would the perfect opportunity for a little spying mission. What do you say?"

Blaine shrugs without looking up. "I'm not really into video games."

Kurt expels a soft sigh and tugs the strap of his bag higher. This gym makes him uncomfortable enough, and Blaine's chill isn't helping at all. He doesn't understand it, because they've always been so interested in everything about each other and they've shared so many moments. Now, of all times, he thought Blaine would confide in him. Maybe even rely on him.

"Can I be honest? I'm getting this really weird feeling from you, like you're pulling away. I thought we agreed that staying away from each other isn't going to work."

Blaine sighs deeply and balls up his gloves in his fists. It would have been too simple for Kurt to leave and feel hurt – hurt enough to avoid Blaine maybe – so now he has to deal with this directly, and that's the last thing he wants, because it means they're going to fix it, and he'd wanted to break this bond that they have, for both their sakes.

"Didn't you hear what they said, Kurt? They think you turned me."

"Turned …? Who cares what a bunch of Neanderthals think?"

"I do!" Blaine shouts, and then instantly deflates to the tender voice he always uses with Kurt. "If it puts you in danger, I do."

Kurt draws in a sharp breath and comes closer to Blaine. The hurt is gone from his eyes and replaced with that sparkle he gets sometimes – the one that Blaine doesn't dare name or he'll be crushed when he finds out he's wrong. Kurt's voice is high, scared when he speaks.

"When I saw you on the ground …. It was like I couldn't breathe."

"Hey. I'm okay."

The fight has gone out of Blaine entirely. Just like that, they're fixed, goddamn it. No, that's the wrong word. They're Blaine and Kurt. They can't break, not even when they try. Blaine gives in to the connection tugging him towards Kurt, and the ache in his chest turns into a contented purr. He feels alive with it, trembling with the hope of it.

"I never got the chance to thank you for what you did at the hospital."

"These are the things you do when you feel a certain way about someone."

"Yeah," Blaine breathes. They're standing so close together, he could reach out and touch Kurt, could caress his jaw, brush a thumb over his cheekbone, kiss his lips. But he won't for Kurt's own good. "A certain way."