Ten
"Stormfront"

John pushed himself off of the Mustang's hood and turned to face his youngest son with arms crossed over his chest. He could see in the missed step that Blaine had been intending to leave without so much as a goodbye to his family. He scowled deeply at the meaningful rudeness. Whatever problems they had with each other, common courtesy wasn't too much to ask for.

Blaine insisted on holding his friend's hand, which sent a flush of anger to John's cheeks. He didn't know what Blaine was thinking, showing that kind of unnatural affection here at the country club of all places. Maybe in his school that was okay, but people would talk here. Not only was he damaging his own reputation, but John's as well.

And just bringing that boy to the country club …. Coming here had been Lydia's brilliant idea, and John agreed because he expected Blaine to bring a boy like himself – gay, sure, but masculine. As it turned out, though, his son had a queen on his arm. It sent a shudder up John's spine how flamboyant his son's little friend was.

Maybe that meant there was hope for Blaine, after all. It wasn't a giant leap from Kurt Hummel to a girl. There were bound to be some butch, athletic girls at Crawford Blaine could date. Not that John really wanted that for his son either, but at this point, he'd take what he could get. Any girl was better than that boy.

But still, the disrespect of bringing that boy and showing affection in public was unbelievable.

"I can't do this right now."

Blaine muttered it to his friend, who tightened his grip around Blaine's hand. John quirked an eyebrow. So something had happened to upset Blaine. Good, then John was in a position to finally get through to him.

"Thank you for lunch, Mr. Anderson. I'm sure I'll see you again sometime," Kurt said.

He was all mock politeness and bitchy glares. John really hated this kid. Beyond the fact that he was gay and corrupting Blaine, he was a defiant, disrespectful little twit and someone needed to stamp it out of him sooner rather than later, and if that didn't work, he was due for an almighty beating to set him right. Not that a beating had done much good for Blaine, aside from toughening him up a little. Those scars he had would impress a girl someday, if he didn't blurt out that he'd gotten them during his gay phase.

"We're expected back in Lima soon."

Kurt fished a set of car keys out of his pocket and unlocked the passenger side door for Blaine. John gave a mirthless laugh and rubbed at his eyes with one hand.

"Jesus Christ, Blaine. You're kidding me. I'm not happy that you're gay, but I at least thought you'd be the masculine one. This boy is opening car doors for you? Lord Almighty, I don't even know what that says about you."

"Just get in the car," Kurt whispered to Blaine.

John glanced up shrewdly. Either Blaine was the bitch who would do as his master dictated or he'd prove to his father he wasn't as much of a lady as he thought. If it was the former, so help him God, John was going to make his son see how disgusting that was. John tolerated a lot from Blaine – this gay thing, the musicals, the fashion magazines – but he was not going to let that slide.

Blaine practically quivered in anger. Splotches had appeared on his cheeks, and his jaw set so tightly his teeth must have been grinding together. His hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles had gone white. John waited for the inevitable outburst, and he wasn't disappointed. Blaine stepped back from the car and slammed the door. Kurt tried to stop him, clutched at his shirt sleeve, but it was all in vain. Blaine strode around to the hood and came face-to-face with John.

John kind of hated that Blaine had an inch or two on him because he had to look up ever so slightly.

"Kurt is a man, and a better one than you or I will ever be. I've had enough of you insinuating otherwise. It only shows how ignorant you are that you judge based on looks alone. Even the country club set knows there's more to a person than their appearance."

John chaffed at the veiled insult to his status here. So what if he didn't have as much money as some of these people or quite as prestigious a job? He deserved to be here, and for Blaine to hint otherwise was absurd. These people liked him. He was popular here. His voice shook with just a touch of anger.

"How many more times are we going to have to do this, Blaine? You flaunt your sexuality at an inappropriate place and time, and then you turn it around on me like I've done something wrong. It's getting old."

"I'm out and proud, dad. That means I don't hide who I am for any reason, and being gay is part of who I am. If you'd try to understand that, that my sexuality is only one part of me, we wouldn't have to do this ever again."

That wasn't true, and they both knew it. They would be doing this forever, because that's what they did. They had done this ever since that day when Blaine was fourteen and decided he would try being gay to get his parents' attention. As if he and Lydia didn't already devote enough time to their sons. As if Blaine was so special he deserved even more than his parents could give him.

"What you are is a disrespectful son. You know how I feel about gays, and you still insist on being one. That's unacceptable."

"This isn't about who or what I am," Blaine said. "What it's about is you being a petulant child who throws temper tantrums because I won't be exactly who you want me to be! I'm done with it, dad. I'm not playing this game with you anymore."

Heat infused John's cheeks. He felt like the world quaked beneath his feet. Blaine never spoke to him like this or came back with such stinging retorts. He didn't need to look far to know where it came from. Kurt gazed at the back of Blaine's head with such compelling pride John had to wonder what he saw in Blaine that John didn't. But it lasted only a second, because blind anger replaced curiosity. That damned boy had turned his son against him.

"This," John said, motioning between Blaine and Kurt, "is over. He's a bad influence."

Blaine laughed humorously. "Wow. That's what you come back with? I finally stand up for myself, and you want me to give up the person who helped me find my backbone? Kind of obvious, isn't it?"

"This is your only warning, Blaine. You end this thing you have going on or there will be consequences."

"Like what? I only see you for an hour a week. You can't confine me to my dorm room or ground me from hanging out in the common rooms."

John searched for an adequate answer. Blaine was right. He'd had almost no say over how his son lived his life since he transferred to Dalton and started living in the dorms. It had only gotten worse when he'd joined the Warblers and, apparently, made a few friends. A slow, dark smile twitched the corner of John's mouth.

"Dalton tuition doesn't pay itself. We could see each other a lot your senior year. Unless you want to move to Boston and live with your mom."

Either way, John had him. Without Dalton, Blaine would live under his roof and follow his rules or live in Boston so far away from Kurt they wouldn't last. Whichever way it played out, John didn't care. He'd won, even if Blaine wasn't "playing this game" anymore.

Blaine went silent for a long time. No doubt his admittedly intelligent son was working through the possibilities and coming to the same conclusion. His eyes bored into John's, and he waited for the shutters to fall over those strangely expressive eyes like they always did right before Blaine backed down. But it didn't happen. Blaine's face set sternly, and his eyes radiated cold hatred.

"You are a horrible person."

John started at the insult. He didn't understand what was happening right now. Blaine didn't do this. He shut down, he backed off, he ran away. It was how they worked. Except it wasn't happening right now. John licked is lips and grasped for a retort.

"Funny, that statement coming from a queer. There's pretty much nothing good about any of you people."

Blaine didn't even flinch. Nor did Kurt. They simply stared at him with those cold eyes.

"There's isn't a damned thing wrong with me. And no one worth my time thinks there is."

And with that, Blaine turned away and climbed into the car. Kurt walked around the hood, passing a pitying look at John on the way, and took the wheel. The engine rumbled as they pulled out of the lot in the car rebuilt to remind Blaine of a man's natural role in the world.

John stared as the taillights disappeared around a curve. He played his son's final statement over in his mind. He decided that whoever told Blaine there was nothing wrong with him clearly didn't know the kid very well.