A/N: So apparently chapter 9 wasn't as conclusiony as it should have been, so here is the new, actual, final conclusion.

They were more or less silent as Sam drove them out of town. Blaine thought Sam was probably still thinking about his mother. He was right; that was exactly what Sam was thinking about. Just before hitting the freeway he finally spoke: "I think you're right, dude."

"I usually am," Blaine said. "But about what specifically?"

"That she'll be okay with us, eventually."

"I don't even think it'll take her that long. By summer definitely. She won't even bat an eye when we move in together in college." Oh crap, did he really just say that? Sam wasn't responding. He was freaking out. Why did he have to go and freak Sam out? "I mean, you know, not that we have to. Forget I said that, okay?"

"No, it's not that. I'd love to move in with you. It would be like now only way better because we'd have the place to ourselves all the time. It's just...college...I still haven't heard anything, and what if I don't even get in anywhere, and—"

"Sam. Baby." Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, felt Sam relax a little into his hand. "You will. There's plenty of time. Please, I hate to see you stressed."

"Well, there is one thing that might help...when we get home to an empty house..."

Blaine let his hand slide down onto his boyfriend's leg. "And we'll have all afternoon. Carole will be at work until five."

"It won't be long enough. Or soon enough."

Blaine leaned over to whisper in Sam's ear, which gave him chills. "How fast can you drive this thing? I'll pay the speeding tickets."

It turned out Sam's car could do ninety, ninety-five, no problem. Well, no problem with the car, anyway—there was still the problem of other drivers not being in as big a hurry as they were. Still, they made really good time. It was only midmorning when they were close enough to Lima that Sam said, "Remember how I told you I was going to bend you over the hood of this car and fuck the living daylights out of you?"

"Of course I remember. What do you think I was dreaming about when you caught me humping your sister's bed in my sleep?"

"Well start getting yourself ready for me now, baby. Because the second we pull into the garage I am going to bury my cock in your ass. I'm going to bury it so deep we may never be able to extract the fucker."

"Oh fuck, Sam," Blaine moaned. "Where the hell's the lube?"

"I stuck a bottle in the pocket of your jacket, which you're also gonna need. You're mine. I can't let anyone else perv on you."

Reaching into the backseat for the jacket, Blaine reassured him, "I would never want anyone perving on me but you."

"Damn right."

"Also, you're so fucking hot when you get all possessive and bossy."

"Yeah?"

"So fucking hot." Blaine draped the jacket over his lap and pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees.

Sam watched him, while trying also not to look away from the road too much. "Uh-uh," he said. "Take them all the way off."

"But...what if a cop stops us?"

"All the way off!" Sam barked. He did slow down to close to the speed limit, though. Getting stopped by a cop now would be bad.

Blaine did as he was told, leaving the clothing bunched up on the floor next to his shoes. He looked at Sam, waiting for his next order.

"Throw them in the backseat. You won't need them for a while."

Again, he did as he was told. As he waited for Sam to tell him what to do next, his hand crept under the jacket and he started stroking himself.

"What are you doing, baby?" Sam asked him.

Blaine's hand froze. "Nothing. I mean...you were taking so long to say something..."

"You weren't touching your cock, were you?"

"No?" Blaine let his hand fall onto the seat. "I mean...not much. I just...fuck, Sammy, I just want you so bad."

"I know you do, Blainey. You're going to get me...in your ass. That's the only place I want you touching yourself. Got it?"

"Got it, Sammy."

"Good. Now bend your knees and put your feet up on the dashboard. Yeah, just like that. Scoot down in the seat a little...uh-huh...now spread your legs a little farther." God, Blaine was a sight like that—even with the jacket covering him. Sam wanted nothing more than to just take him right now. But he couldn't, not yet, so... "All right. Start slathering yourself with lube. I wanna be able to just slide right on it. Fuck yourself with your fingers to make room for me."

Blaine went to town on himself, not requiring any further instructions. He wiggled and squirmed and moaned and whimpered. He almost lost it a couple times when he imagined his fingers were Sam's dick. Thank God Sam had forbidden touching his own dick; he would have lost it for sure.

"Sam," he gasped. "How much longer till we're home?" He couldn't just open his eyes and see where they were. He was so overstimulated already that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to handle the added sensation of light. But he could tell that the car was going slower and stopping sometimes, so he knew they were off the freeway.

"Like five more minutes, baby. Maybe not even. Just hold on. I know you can wait for me."

"I don't know if I can. Five minutes is a really long time..."

"You better put your hands where I can see them, then."

Blaine whined and reluctantly clasped his hands together on top of his jacket.

"Good," Sam said. "Because even after I start fucking you, you have to hold on. You're just going to take my cock and you're not going to touch yourself and you're not going to come until I take your dick and jerk you off. If I decide to let you come at all."

"If you decide to...!? Sam!"

"I guess you better make me happy then." Wait, was this too far? "Ah, who am I kidding? You always make me happy, Blainey."

Blaine opened his eyes and smiled at him. "Thanks, Sammy. You always make me happy too."

Sam pulled into the Hudson-Hummels' driveway. He always parked on the street and didn't even have a garage door opener, so he had to get out and open the door manually. He would have made Blaine do it, but given his boyfriend's pantslessness it seemed too cruel. Getting back in the car and pulling into the garage, he said, "We're both about to be very happy. I hope you're ready."

"So ready," Blaine said.

Sam got out again and shut the garage door. "Out!" he ordered. Blaine threw his jacket into the backseat and climbed out of the car, naked from the waist down. After checking the floor to make sure there were no nails or anything lying around, Sam told him, "Hands on the hood."

Blaine placed his right hand on the hood but removed it quickly. "It's hot!"

"Shit. Are you all right?" Sam asked, to which Blaine nodded. "Good. Hands on the trunk, then."

Blaine walked around to the trunk and leaned down to put his hands on it. Sam stood behind him and positioned him so his cheek was resting against the trunk, his ass was far away enough from the car that his dick wouldn't be crushed against it, and his legs were spread. "Jesus fucking Christ," Sam said, admiring the scene before him. "Just look at you. I wish you could see yourself." He let his jeans and underwear drop to his knees and stroked himself a couple times.

Meanwhile, Blaine was getting restless and was swaying his hips impatiently. "I wish I could see you. But feeling you is going to be more than enough." He gasped when Sam moved closer and grabbed his hips. His cock was resting just outside his entrance. He heard a condom wrapper rip open. "You know you've never come in my ass yet? I mean, with a condom, of course, but still..."

"I've been saving it up."

"I hope you'll find it was worth the—oh fuck, Sammy!" All at once Sam was filling him. He felt him everywhere—not just in his ass, not just slamming into the sweet spot of his prostate, but in his knees, his fingertips, his scalp. Words were no longer under his command, just primal noises. "Aaaaaah! Ah ah ah ooooh! Uh uh..."

"Oh sweet Jesus, Blaine!" Sam gripped his hips even tighter and pounded him even harder. "Your ass is so...God, you feel so fucking..."

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

"That's right, baby. Scream for me. Fucking scream for me."

"AAAAAAAAH!" Blaine couldn't even think about what the neighbors might hear, or about anything else, just Sam's! Beautiful! Cock! Nailing him! And then—"Oh God! Oh fuck, Sammy!" Sam's hand, wrapped around his own cock.

"Come on, Blaine. Come for me. Scream while you fucking come for me. Oh God! I'm coming! Scream while you come with me!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Oh fuck, Sammy, oh fuuuck, Sammy! AAAAAAAAH!" His throat was raw, but he was still convulsing around Sam's dick, his hips still jerking of their own accord, his spunk still shooting out onto the car, onto Sam's hand, onto himself. He screamed until he couldn't anymore, until his screams devolved into whimpers, and his whimpers into panting as he finally started to come down and recover.

Sam's dick was softening but still inside him. Right where it belonged, he thought. Sam was slumped against him, his weight resting comfortably on Blaine's back. Blaine became aware of a stinging sensation on his shoulder, where he had only vaguely noticed when it was happening that Sam had bitten him.

"Cuddle in the backseat for a minute?" Sam asked sleepily.

"No!" He was not going to risk having Carole find them sleeping in the car with no pants on. "Pull your pants back up and we can cuddle upstairs." Carole probably wouldn't open the bedroom door and walk in on them, and even if she did at least they'd be dressed.

"Too tired...Too far to walk..."

"Come on, baby." Blaine slid out from under Sam, removed and discarded the condom, and pulled his pants back up. He grabbed his own pants from the backseat and guided his very sleepy boyfriend upstairs to his bed. By the time he had put his own pants back on and was ready for a cuddle, Sam was fast asleep.

XOXOXO

The rest of spring break was awesome. Burt and Kurt were gone, Carole was at work all day...they had worried a little about the possibility that Finn* might drop by. Sam decided to nip that in the bud by taking the direct approach. As soon as they woke up from their nap after the drive home, Sam called him.

"Hey, Finn. How's it going?"

"Awesome, dude. There was this frat party last night—"

"That's awesome, Finn. Listen, I'm actually calling for a reason. So, you know how it's just Blaine and me in your house while your mom's at work during spring break?"

"No, I hadn't thought about that."

"Yeah, I actually thought you might not have. So, me and Blaine are pretty much planning on fucking at every opportunity."

"Dude! Why did you have to tell me that?"

"Sorry. I know you didn't want to hear that. I just thought you'd probably be even less happy if you walked in on it."

"Dude!"

"Yeah. So don't come over for a while, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for the warning, I guess. Now I have to go scrub my brain clean."

And they did fuck at every opportunity—which was pretty much whenever they weren't sleeping after the previous time they'd fucked. They fucked on just about every piece of furniture (except in Carole and Burt's room), in the shower, on the floor, against the wall, on the stairs, in the backseats of both their cars (in the garage; they weren't maniacs)...

No one ever, ever returned to school from spring break more refreshed and relaxed than Sam and Blaine.

The slushies some football players hit them with on Monday just rolled off their backs. Literally, because they managed to turn right before impact, but also figuratively. If those losers were getting laid half as much as they were, they wouldn't care who anyone else was fucking.

They were almost entirely carefree that whole week. (It helped that they were still getting some fucking in between getting home from school and Carole getting home from work.) The only thing that put a damper on their good moods was when Blaine's mom called on Friday and insisted that the next day Blaine come look at this house she and her boyfriend were planning to buy.

Blaine brought Sam along, naturally. He didn't tell his mother he was planning to. He knew she wouldn't like it, but that was just tough shit. If she tried to make Sam leave, he would leave too.

Even after an amazing blowjob from Sam (albeit a quiet one because Carole was home), Blaine was a nervous wreck on the drive to the new house. "She's gonna try to make me live with them."

"She can't make you do anything," Sam reminded him. "You're an adult. An adult who's totally corrupted a minor, by the way. You're so bad."

This made Blaine smile, but only for a minute. "I love you, baby. But don't talk dirty to me right now. I have to concentrate."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, squeezing Sam's hand to show he wasn't mad. He drove quietly while he thought about what Sam had said about his being an adult. Not the criminal implications—they had looked up the legal age of consent in Ohio and it was sixteen so they were fine—but the other legal implications. "You're right. She can't force me. But she could cut me off financially."

"Oh," Sam said. "Would she, though, do you think?"

"I have no idea. And if she even just threatened it, I don't know if I'd be able to tell whether she was bluffing."

"What about your dad?" Sam didn't know that much about Blaine's family's financial situation—except that it wasn't especially a concern for them—but he'd always had the impression that Blaine's dad made more money than his mom did.

"I guess. I mean, I'd have to talk to him, probably even be nice to him. But it would beat being..."

Sam put his hand on Blaine's knee. "You can say it, baby. It would beat being poor. Being poor sucks; no one in their right mind would choose it unless the only alternatives were even worse. I'm not sure having to be nice to your dad qualifies as worse—I'm not even sure having to live with your mom and her douchebag boyfriend for a few months before college qualifies—but you're a better judge of that than me."

"But if I had to move out of the Hudmel house..."

"I know. I'd totally miss having you there all the time. But, you know...most kids our age don't get to have live-in boyfriends. It's a luxury."

Blaine sighed. "You're so...so level-headed when you're getting regular sex."

"I know, right? Another good reason for you to not start neglecting your boyfriendly duties."

Blaine pulled into the driveway of the new house, new not being a figure of speech. Construction had obviously just finished; lots of other houses in the subdivision were only half-complete. The house they were there to look at, the soon-to-be Anderson-Doyle house (unless his mother planned on changing her name after the divorce), was an ugly, beige, cookie-cutter McMansion. "I can't believe she wants to live here."

They were the first ones there, so they walked around and looked at the yard. There was no landscaping or anything; just a bright green lawn, the kind where you could still see the lines from where each roll of sod started and stopped. The backyard had a six-foot privacy fence around it; there was nothing back there to protect yet but a deck off the kitchen and a little tool shed back in the corner. "This is a perfect yard for a dog," Sam observed. "If you do end up moving here, you should totally make her get you a dog."

When they got back around to the front, the Realtor was there. "Hi," she said, holding out her hand—to which one of them they couldn't tell. "I'm Mary Alice Carter. You must be the sons?"

Sam was the one who took her hand and shook it. "We're the son and the son's boyfriend." He didn't bother to tell her which was which, and he regretted his rudeness a little when he realized she wasn't showing any kind of negative reaction to them being boyfriends. Before he could rectify things, Blaine's mom and her boyfriend pulled up.

Mrs. Anderson got out of the passenger's side and walked straight to Blaine without acknowledging—possibly without even noticing—Sam. She hugged him, asked how he was, congratulated him on the New Directions' win at regionals. "Your solo was so beautiful," she said. "I was so proud of you. Am so proud of you."

"How did you know I had a solo?" It was probably just a lucky guess. An assumption, even, since he usually had one.

"You didn't think I wouldn't go, did you? Even though you didn't invite me?"

Blaine looked at her skeptically. He did, in fact, think she wouldn't go.

"Do I need to prove to you that I was there?" When Blaine didn't answer she sang some of the lines of his solo to him. "I even saw you two holding hands for a second at the end."

Mr. Doyle walked up behind her. "Oh, you must be talking about Blaine's killer solo at regionals. Great performance, really outstanding. Both you guys." He shook Blaine's hand, then Sam's.

Blaine's mom shook Sam's hand too, finally. "Of course. Your singing was lovely too, Sam." She gave Blaine a look that Sam couldn't totally interpret, except to know that it wasn't unbridled enthusiasm about Sam's presence. "You're here for moral support, I take it?"

"Exactly," Blaine said, taking Sam's hand.

Ms. Carter had been standing back, but she stepped forward now. "Good to see you again Sharon, Jason. Are you ready to show the boys the inside?"

"Yes," Sharon said. "But first...Blaine, honey, what do you think of it so far? Just from the outside? Isn't the big backyard great?"

"The big backyard is boring and the house itself is tacky and ugly. At least our old house had some character."

"And it burned to the ground."

"Are you going to keep reminding me of that?"

"Reminding you? Are you in danger of forgetting it otherwise?"

Jason put his arm around Blaine's mom's shoulders and said to her softly, "Maybe we should just go inside?"

Ms. Carter started the tour. Mrs. Anderson nodded along while she showed them the kitchen and pointed out various features like the hard-wired smoke detectors (with battery backup) and all the granite and stainless steel and the stove with burners that shut off on their own if they were left on too long. "What if I want to make a...a stew or something that's actually supposed to simmer for a long time?" Blaine said.

"I don't want you making any long-simmering stews!" his mom snapped.

"Don't worry, because I won't be living here," Blaine shot back.

"I don't want you making any long-simmering stews anywhere. Especially somewhere that I'm not able to protect you!" Everyone looked at her for a minute, all of them stunned, before she slid down the kitchen wall and sat on the floor, holding her head in her hands.

"Honey..." Jason said.

Blaine looked around. Sam obviously didn't know what to do. The Realtor had disappeared. He crouched down in front of his mother. "Mom..."

She looked at him through her tears and took his hands. "Blaine, the first thing I thought when the hospital called was that you could have died. I hope if you have kids you never have to deal with one of them almost dying because you weren't there to protect them. 'I almost lost my baby, I almost lost my baby,' that's all I could think. And now..." She stifled a sob. "I know this isn't what you wanted, the situation with your dad and me, and with Jason. But I went from being terrified that I almost lost you to being terrified that I actually am losing you because you hate me now, you don't want to have anything to do with me."

"I don't hate you, mom."

Sam felt like an intruder, a voyeur. He couldn't just keep standing there and watching. He backed out of the kitchen and went out the front door. Mr. Doyle was right behind him. "This has been so hard on Sharon," he said. "She didn't want to burden Blaine with it, but I think it's good that they're finally talking."

"Yeah." Sam hadn't actually given much though to her, except to be pissed at her on Blaine's behalf. "So...do you think they'll be a while? Do you wanna buy me another beer?"

Mr. Doyle punched him on the shoulder. "Sure, why not? Blaine can give his mother a ride home. Or if it ends badly, Mary Alice can." He gestured to the car the Realtor was sitting in. "I don't think she can leave while people are in the house anyway. Just don't tell your mother, okay? I don't need any more motherly drama." He unlocked his car doors and got in.

Sam got in the passenger side. "Don't worry," he said. "She's not the dramatic type. Besides, she's in Kentucky."

Jason, as he told Sam to call him, ended up taking him bowling. And he only bought him one beer, despite Sam's attempts to talk him into more. But he bought him all the Diet Coke and Cool Ranch Doritos he wanted, and they actually had a pretty decent time. It was still a little uncomfortable—which more beer would no doubt have helped with—but all in all it was okay.

When he dropped Sam off at home a few hours later, Blaine and his mom and Carole were sitting around the kitchen table talking. He wanted to give them as much privacy as they needed, but he also really wanted to just check in quickly, make sure Blaine was all right.

He stood behind his boyfriend, placed his hands on his shoulders, and bent down to kiss his cheek. Unfortunately that put his nose in close proximity to Blaine's hair, specifically to the watermelon-scented gel that never failed to turn him on. Well, later. Later he'd help Blaine relax after what must be a very stressful day. Right now he just whispered, "How are you doing, baby?"

"Good. Really."

"Good." The next part was whispered again: "Stupid fucking gel."

Blaine smiled. He knew what that meant.

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt," Sam told the group at large. "I'll just be upstairs doing some homework..."

"Actually, Sam, why don't you sit?" Carole said. "Sharon and Blaine are going out for a bite, but you and I should talk."

Blaine stood and hugged him. "You sure everything's good?" Sam whispered.

"As far as I'm concerned everything's great," Blaine whispered back. "But tell me when I get home if you feel differently."

Sam sat down and waited until he heard Blaine and his mother walk out the front door before he asked Carole what was going on.

"I'll skip the parts you already know, about the new house and Sharon wanting Blaine to move back in with her and her...Well, you know that part. And the part about Blaine saying he wasn't ready to do that yet."

"Wait, yet?" Sam wouldn't stand in the way of Blaine living with his mom if that's what he wanted. He just...maybe it was for the best, but he just didn't think that was what Blaine wanted.

"Well, and he might not ever be."

Sam tried not to react with visible relief. He just said, "Yeah. I know that part."

"And it might end up being a moot point, because Sharon and..."

"Jason," Sam supplied, although he didn't really think Carole had so much forgotten the man's name.

"Right. Sharon and Jason won't even be able to take possession for another month at least. But when that time comes, if Blaine hasn't changed his mind, Sharon has decided not to force him to move in with them."

"She didn't say she, like, wouldn't pay for college if he didn't, did she?"

"No, of course not."

Sam seriously felt like doing a cartwheel or something, even though he could tell Carole wasn't done.

"Burt and I are more than happy for Blaine to stay here as long as he wants. But we want to know what you think, honestly."

"What do you mean? I love having Blaine here. I thought that was obvious." They'd been trying to be discreet enough not to make it graphically obvious, but still, how could there be any doubt that he was thrilled with the situation?

"Yes. It is." Carole smiled fondly. "But we just want you to think about...You guys are so young. And your relationship is so new. Not your friendship," she added when she sensed that Sam was going to object, "but your...what you so sweetly call your dating. And we're just afraid that you guys don't realize yet what a strain living together can put on a...dating relationship. Even without having to worry about bills and some of the other things that would come with having an apartment together, just the two of you...just being around the person you're dating all the time can get to be difficult."

"But I never get tired of being around Blaine."

"No, and I haven't heard you fight yet either, because the relationship is still so new. But you will get tired of being around him all the time and you will fight."

Sam shook his head. Carole was very nice to be concerned, but frankly she was being a little...like, okay, he and Blaine would probably have disagreements from time to time. He wasn't naive about that kind of thing. But he would never not want to see Blaine every single day—at school and at home—and he was pretty sure Blaine felt the same way about him.

"I know you don't believe me. And I'm not even trying to convince you. I'm just telling you now so that if you and Blaine ever do decide it's too much, you'll know that there are other options. Other options that don't mean breaking up necessarily. Blaine is going to have a bedroom at the new house. His mother isn't going to force him to live there permanently, but she does want him to spend some time there, and Blaine has agreed to try it at least. And also...if being together all the time ever does get to be too intense...well, the new house is there, that's all I'm saying."

"So..." Sam still couldn't envision a scenario in which he'd want to send Blaine away, though he guessed if Blaine ever wanted to get away from him for a while he could try not to be too hurt by it. But he did want to know, "What does 'spend some time there' mean? Like a child-of-divorce split custody thing, or...?"

"Sort of. Though custody doesn't actually factor in because of Blaine's age. But he and his mother are going to work out a schedule of some sort. I think they both want to try to repair their relationship."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Yeah, of course. But...he can still stay here most of the time? If that's what he wants?"

"That's the plan."

Sam smiled. "You're awesome, Carole. Have I told you that before?"

"Yes. But not nearly often enough."

"You're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome—"

"Okay, okay."

"Seriously. I'm gonna, like..." He was going to say cook her dinner, but then he wondered if Carole might not trust him around a stove any more than Blaine's mom trusted him. "I'm gonna go scrub the bathroom."

"Oh! Well, thanks, Sam. You're awesome too."

Sam scrubbed the bathroom—his and Blaine's, not Carole and Burt's, which he never went in—and he took a shower. Blaine was still with his mom and he was a little restless so he lifted some of Finn's weights in the basement. And yes, he did sometimes work out after showering because Blaine really liked that for some reason. Sam suspected he'd find that pretty gross if he thought about it much, so he tried not to.

Blaine got home from dinner with his mother and found his hunky blond boyfriend all shirtless and sweaty at the weight machine. Sam ran over to him and lifted and twirled him. "You get to stay!"

"I get to stay!"

"But if you ever don't want to, if you need some space or whatever, you know, it's okay, I'll totally understand."

"My mom and Carole gave me that speech too." Blaine stroked Sam's cheek and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. Then tender turned to forceful and their teeth and tongues and Sam's neck got involved. "You smell dirty," he said.

"You smell watermelony."

"You think she'll hear us?"

"Nah. We've had lots of practice being quiet when we need to."

And if Carole happened to turn the sound up on the TV a few minutes later, she would have said it was for no particular reason, certainly not because there were any noises she'd rather not know about emanating from the basement.

THE END. LIKE, FOR REAL.

*I don't know what to say that hasn't already been said, better than I could.