A/N: SOOOOOOOOOOOOO I'm at least happy I got this up before tomorrow's episode. That was a goal for me. I've been insanely busy, and I apologize for the delay!
Honestly, Puck is so hard for me to write. I got about four or five pages in then just got STUMPED because I had such troubles writing Puck. I still don't think I did him justice.
Thank you all, as usual, for your lovely reviews!
Now, a few things before I leave you off to read this chapter:
about the blind item- I don't believe anything about it. All the spoilers and disclaimers and confirmations and shit surrounding it. None of it. I refuse. I stop reading the "read more" spoiler things on tumblr because they're just driving me nuts.
Next- Silly Love Songs. Holy SHIT, you guys, that episode was Klaine-fantastic. I must admit I was sitting there shaking my fist at gap-guy (while simultaneously freaking out over Blaine's breaking of the fourth wall), but I loved so many themes in it. That Klaine is taking this slow (it isn't just another glee hook-up!), that they know each other's coffee orders, that Blaine cares too much about Kurt to ruin this, and that Blaine says he expresses himself best in song, then sings "I love you" to Kurt (don't think I didn't see that Blaine BECAUSE I TOTALLY DID).
In conclusion, I LOVE KLAINE.
Also, Silly Love Songs is my favorite Paul McCartney song so there was flailing going on there too.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: Don't own.
"Wes, I'm clearing the table in the choir room so I can use it for Mercedes' party," Kurt called. "I'll just put your stuff outside your door, okay?"
"Do not touch my gavel," came the muffled reply.
Kurt rolled his eyes, continuing past Wes' door and almost running into Blaine, who was stepping out of his room.
Blaine fairly beamed. "Hi!"
"Hey." Kurt nodded to the box in Blaine's arms. "What's that?"
"Party stuff." At Kurt's raised eyebrow, he began to explain. "In September we threw a surprise part for Thad's birthday. He- uh- freaked out a little and everyone ended up taking down the decorations and putting them away. Somehow they were put in my room." He shrugged. "I thought you might want them."
Kurt's lips twitched as he watched color move up Blaine's neck.
"Do you want to help decorate?" He asked finally.
Clearly it was the right thing to say. Blaine beamed at him. "Could I?"
Kurt laughed. "I'm not going to stop you." He swept Wes' personal belongings off the council table into a wooden box (except the precious gavel, which he left sitting on the table). "I'll be right back. Have to bring this to Wes."
Blaine hummed a little to himself while Kurt was gone. He caught himself singing "Baby, it's Cold Outside" under his breath, and oh, he so couldn't go there right now because that was just going a little too far. And he was so stupid and he didn't even know then that he liked Kurt. He can't screw this up. Kurt means far too much for that and Kurt is far too delicate for that.
He must have been thinking on it for much longer than he thought he had been, because all of the sudden there were footsteps behind him again and Blaine spun around to see Kurt heading into the room with an armful of streamers. He raised an eyebrow at Blaine. "Well, I can see that you've done... nothing."
Blaine laughed. "Got caught up in my own thoughts, I guess."
"Mmm, happens to the best of us." Kurt passed the streamers off to him, then headed towards the window to hang up some blue Christmas tree lights.
It was so quiet for a time that Blaine was sure that if it had been seasonably agreeable, crickets would have been chirping.
"This would go a lot faster if we had a conversation," Kurt said finally, turning from where he was pinning up lights to smile at Blaine. "Talk to me."
Blaine unearthed a fiber optic lamp and began to prise open the back cover in order to replace the long-dead batteries (it may have been switched on since September). "Talk about what? Pick the topic and I'll start."
"Tell me about your past boyfriends," Kurt said, leaning up onto his toes to reach the very top of the window.
Blaine laughed. "That'd be a short conversation, considering there are none."
Kurt spun around so quickly that he nearly fell off the chair, which was probably the least graceful thing Blaine had ever seen him do. He looked genuinely shocked, and Blaine couldn't fathom why.
"Never? You've never had a boyfriend? Ever?"
He was actually starting to turn red. "No." He might've snapped it a little.
His mood worsened as Kurt laughed, stepping down from his chair. "Don't take it like that. I'm not making fun of you. That would be a little hypocritical of me, don't you think? I just can't believe that you, of all people, have never had a boyfriend."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked, somewhat defensively.
Something in Kurt's eyes shifted, the color paled. "Nothing." He fixed Blaine's tie, which Blaine hadn't realized was messed up. "You think you can handle these streamers by yourself?"
"I am somewhat tempted to turn myself into a mummy," Blaine said seriously. "But I think I can control the urge for long enough to put these up."
"Well, hurry up," Kurt snapped, in that bossy way he had. "We only have two hours." It would have been extraordinarily bitchy if he hadn't seen the slight smile Kurt was wearing as he turned away.
Blaine mock-saluted him, and Kurt punched him lightly in the arm, and they got to work on decorating.
It became almost immediately clear that they both had very different styles and opinions on how, exactly, the decorating should go. Blaine was going for the "space" look- fiber optic lights wherever he could get them (couches, tables, chairs, bookshelves, fireplaces), tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Kurt's look was more refined, more classy- the only thing Blaine could think of when he saw it was "France".
They both looked good, and as different from each other as they were, they looked good together. The Rachel-Berry voice in Blaine's head was telling him that it was some sort of symbolism of his and Kurt's friendship or relationship or something, but really, Blaine couldn't care less.
"Break time," Kurt announced, pulling granola bars out of his leather bookbag and tossing one to Blaine. The label was in Swedish.
Blaine held his up. "These aren't going to make me gain crazy weight, are they?"
"Please, no," Kurt said, in an affronted. "They're these weird nutrition bars. My mom uses them to lose weight."
And then they were both doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from their eyes.
They migrated over to the nearest couch that wasn't covered in decorations and lights to eat, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip.
Blaine gnawed on the granola bar that, in all honesty, tasted like the sole of his shoe.
"So, no boyfriends, really?" Kurt asked, and Blaine may have choked a little bit, but he should have expected it, because Kurt was never one to beat around the bush.
When he finished coughing up bits of Swedish granola bar that had stuck in his throat, he said, "uh, no. I mean, a few dates. But no, no real boyfriend. I guess I never-" he cleared his throat. "I never really found the right person."
"Jane couldn't really have helped, either," Kurt said quietly.
Blaine turned his head to look at him, and was immediately reminded of Baby, it's Cold Outside and suddenly felt the uncomfortable urge to kiss Kurt. He looked away. "She never talks to me," he said, in a low voice. "It's more the snide remarks she makes to the rest of the family. Layne tells her off for them, but I think Mom and Dad are scared to because she's so delicate."
"Words don't break people," Kurt said, a little scathingly.
"That's what you think," Blaine said back, thinking of all the ways Jane had broken him in the past, with one sentence indirectly aimed at him.
"They don't," Kurt said gently, sliding one hand over Blaine's on the couch. "I've learned that. Not unless you let them."
Blaine was not going to turn this into a pity party about him. He wrapped his fingers around Kurt's and shot him a smile. "I know, thank you."
Kurt didn't seem exactly convinced. He gave Blaine one of those looks that he was so good at that said "we'll continue this discussion later".
Both of them stood up, untangling their hands and reaching for the box of decorations.
He snuck glances at Kurt as they worked, admiring the soft smile on the other boy's face in contrast with the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the smooth skin stretching over that he wanted to run his fingers over, tracing over the hollows of his cheeks to the curve of his nose-
They never really went away, Blaine mused. The butterflies he got whenever he was around Kurt. The ones he'd been clueless enough to not notice in the first three months of knowing Kurt.
They settled enough so he could enjoy his time with Kurt, joke around, talk to him, laugh with him- but they never quite went away. They stayed there, this warm fluttery feeling in his stomach, reminding him every so often how much he cared about Kurt.
The itch in his fingertips never quite left, either. Sometimes he wanted to touch Kurt so badly it hurt- not one of their friendship touches, a casual arm around the shoulder, a nudge to the ribs, and brush of hand-against-hand. He wanted to lean forward and cup Kurt's face in his palm, to trace one hand over the other boy's chest and feel his heartbeat against his fingers.
"It isn't polite to stare," Kurt said softly, without turning around.
Blaine could feel the blush flooding his cheeks. "I- sorry-" he stammered.
Kurt chuckled, turning around. A light smile was turning up one corner of his mouth. "Kidding," he said. "What's on your mind?"
"Just- thinking," Blaine said. "About you meeting my family."
It wasn't a full-blown lie, just half of one. In one part of his mind he had been thinking about Kurt meeting his family- he knew absolutely that Layne was going to love him, and absolutely coo over him. Jane would be icily indifferent, his mother would be overly peppy and bubbly, and his father would approve, because Kurt was well-mannered and knew his way around a car.
"I'm a little nervous," Kurt admitted, stretching up to tape a corner of one of the streamer loops, and Blaine most certainly was not looking at the way Kurt's oxford pulled across his lower back at the motion.
"They'll all love you," Blaine reassured him. "Well- except-"
"I will not be devastated if Jane doesn't love me," Kurt said, laughing a little. He reached out his hand and made a small grabby motion for the tape.
Blaine handed it to him. "That's probably an intelligent choice."
"What are your parents like?" Kurt asked suddenly, sticking the roll of streamers into his mouth as he used both hands to fasten another loop of streamers to the ceiling. He suddenly looked so much like a baby golden retriever that Blaine actually had to look away.
"My dad... he'll like you. He's a car geek and he doesn't enjoy loud people, so he wasn't very fond of Wes and David, but he'll adore you. My mother loves fashion as much as you do so you may end up spending the rest of the night poring over various fashion magazines with her."
"They sound wonderful," Kurt said, pulling the roll out of his mouth. He stepped down from the chair he was on, and rolled up onto his toes, looking like he wanted to say something else.
Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.
"If you don't mind me asking," Kurt said, hesitantly, "how exactly did Jane get her homophobic viewpoints? If your parents are so accepting and forgiving, how did this happen? It seems a little strange to me... in many 'coming-out' cases I've read or heard about, it's the sibling that's supportive and the parent or parents that are unable to accept the child."
Blaine shook his head. "I wish I could tell you. I have no idea how the idea that being gay is wrong or something I can control planted itself into her head."
Kurt interrupted. "I'm sorry, what? She thinks it's something you can control? That you chose to be gay, just for kicks?"
Blaine nodded, bitterly. "I think that what she believes is that I could easily be straight- and she could never make herself be normal. That while we both have something we're ostracized for, she thinks mine is easily controllable and she resents the fact that hers isn't."
Kurt was staring at him, his mouth hanging open. "I'm sorry, but your sister sounds like a lunatic," he said finally.
Blaine shrugged. "Mom and Dad have attempted to correct her a few times, but she doesn't want to listen. They don't push it much. And there haven't been many impassioned speeches about gay rights since Layne moved out after she married her husband."
"This is so, so wrong," Kurt muttered, moving the empty decorating box to the floor. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep my temper around her."
"Try, for my sake," Blaine begged.
Kurt's eyes raised to meet Blaine's. "Tell me, Blaine. You said you were bullied in your old school. Was it guys you didn't know on the football team who threw slushies in your face on a daily basis and shoved you into lockers, or was it your brittle-boned sister, who you loved too much to retaliate against?"
Blaine didn't have an answer.
"Now tell me, Blaine. Who had it worse off, you or I? Because I don't honestly think that you're a coward or you ran away from your problems." He leaned forward, sliding a hand under Blaine's chin, tilting Blaine's face up. "Nobody deserves treatment like that, not in their own home."
And god, moments like this were why he loved Kurt so much.
The realization that he loved Kurt didn't hit him like a ton of bricks or a frying pan to the face, as they said in books and movies. It was like a sort of tingling in his scalp, a quick intake of breath, and the sudden knowledge that he would do absolutely anything for this boy. It was warm and comforting and yet frightening at the same time, that someone else could have such a hold over him and not even know it.
Kurt let go of his chin, and picked up the box. "Thank you for helping me decorate, Blaine. It helped me finish early so I can get ready for the party."
"Any time," Blaine said, attempting a smile.
"Stay for the party," Kurt said.
Blaine tried to stop a foolish grin from spreading over his face. "Really?"
Kurt nodded, quickly. "Mercedes likes you and it's her birthday. Stay for the party."
Blaine beamed.
The door creaked open, and both boys' heads turned to see Wes slipping between the oak doors. He held up Kurt's cell phone. "This was in the box that you put outside my door."
"Thank you," Kurt said, fairly rushing over to claim back his phone.
Wes' eyes lighted on the gavel resting on the bookshelf and he moved forward to claim it, cradling it in his hands as if it was made of glass. Blaine rolled his eyes at Kurt.
"Have fun at your party," Wes said, sincerely. "Remember, make good choices."
"Do you google motivational yet morally responsible sayings?" Kurt asked, following him to the door.
"No, they just come to me," Wes said, winking at Blaine. "Oh, right, Kurt- this guy named Noah texted you about six times. I didn't read them, I just thought you should know."
Something in Blaine froze. He cast about wildly in his head, trying to remember a time Kurt may have mentioned someone named "Noah". He came up short every time.
Kurt was looking through the texts now, his eyes lit up, a soft smile curving across his face, and it was almost too much to take. This Noah- this guy- he was someone who made that expression cross Kurt's face, and god, Blaine couldn't deal with this anymore.
He crossed to the door.
Kurt looked up. "Where are you going?"
"Headache," Blaine lied, sure that his face was already twisted up in a grimace of pain, enough to make his story believable.
"Oh." Kurt looked confused. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No," Blaine said, pressing his fingertips against his temples for effect. "I think I'll just go lie down for a while."
"Text me if you can't make it to the party," Kurt said, still looking worried. "Are you sure you don't want-"
"I'll be fine, Kurt," Blaine snapped. Then he took a deep breath. He couldn't afford to screw this up with Kurt again. "Sorry. Just- it hurts. I'll try to make it to the party."
"Take two advil and a nap," Kurt advised, just as Blaine slipped out the door.
xxxxx
"How do you think they make these?" Sam asked, examining a cheezit. "Do you think they actually just- like- squish the cheese into cracker shapes and then bake it?"
Quinn was staring at him like he was insane.
Tina and Mike were thumb-wrestling, and Tina was losing (badly). Lauren was standing by the door holding her Twilight book possessively under her arm. She seemed to be examining Dalton for any signs of possible Vampirism. Santana and Brittany were giggling with Artie in the corner.
Mercedes and Rachel were arguing loudly- yet affectionately- with each other about what sort of songs should be playing, until Mercedes played the "it's-my-birthday" card, and Rachel backed off.
Finn was staring open-mouthed at one of the giant bookshelves, and Puck was examining the council table and the crystal water glasses with a disgusted look on his face.
Kurt was sitting on the leather couch with his legs curled under him, a glass of sparkling cider in his hand, examining the festivities with a calm and detached eye, and almost sighing internally. He'd really hoped Blaine would be back for the party, yet he hadn't gotten so much as a text from the boy.
Puck picked up one of the glasses and walked over to him. "How much do these cost?"
"So much that you'd have a lawsuit on your ass if you stole one," Kurt said flatly. "Put it down, Puck."
It was at that moment that Wes burst into the room, his eyes wild.
"Kurt!"
Wes' gaze landed on Kurt first, and then Puck, who was still clutching the crystal glass in his hands.
"Oh my god put that down," Wes said to Puck, hurrying over. He glared at Puck until the other boy set the glass down on the table, then turned his attention to Kurt. "Where's Blaine?"
"He has a headache," Kurt said, trying not to sound as if he cared too much.
Wes' eyes narrowed. "Right." He grabbed at Puck's sleeve, and for the first time Kurt noticed the ever-present gavel clutched in his hand. "I need to talk to you."
"Dude, you guys are insane," Puck said, and for once he sounded frightened as he was pulled out of the room with Wes.
Kurt wasn't really one to question what was going on.
xxxxx
Noah Puckerman never knocked. This was a prep school, dude, and he could out-badass any of the wusses in this school any day, except maybe Kurt. That kid had balls. And maybe that scary Asian guy who'd threatened him two minutes ago. Something about him was freaky as hell.
He opened the door to the room. He wouldn't do this normally, especially not after some punk private school pussy tried to force him into it, but damn, that Asian kid and his gavel were actually scary shit when they were turned on him.
As soon as he was in, he eyed the other boy in the room- the one he didn't recognize- and thumbed to the door. "Out. Out. Out."
"I beg your pardon?" The boy asked, and wow, Puck had been so sure they only said that in, like, Harry Potter movies and that one British movie they'd watched in English. But maybe he was wrong because he'd always fallen asleep five minutes into all the movies.
"I said," Puck said, shoving his hands into his pockets and raising an eyebrow, "get out."
The boy scrambled up and was out of the room in seconds.
The other guy- Puck couldn't remember his name, so he decided to call him Frodo in his head- was sitting on the other bed plucking moodily at an acoustic.
"Puck, right?" Frodo asked, and Puck actually rolled his eyes, because it was hard enough to deal with Finn when he was being mopey shit when his life sucked, and now this kid was doing it too.
"Look, Blaise-"
"Blaine," Frodo corrected.
"Whatever. Your Asian friend with the gavel sent me up here under the threat of death, because now I guess I'm the one who deals with all the emotional crap and for some reason Mercedes thinks you freaking out up here is my fault, and Kurt thinks you have a headache but you're playing the guitar so I know that isn't the issue. I don't know what you expect me to do, cuz I'm not a freaking therapist, but spill."
Frodo was staring at him like he had three heads.
Puck leaned against the bed. "So tell me why you stormed out or whatever."
"I didn't storm out," Frodo said, folding his arms. "I didn't want to intrude on your New Directions time."
"You wouldn't." Puck shrugged. "I'm not gonna pretend to get how gay guys work, but as far as the rest of us are concerned, you're like, Kurt's boyfriend or whatever. And-" he took a deep breath. "Even though none of the rest of us have fooled around outside the group, so I don't really know what to do about an outsider- I still think you're cool."
"I'm not Kurt's boyfriend," Frodo said.
Now Puck had no idea what was going on or how the hell anything worked at this school. "Why not?" He demanded. "You- dig him, right?"
Okay, so this was kind of uncomfortable. He didn't really know how to give guy advice to another guy.
Frodo didn't answer.
"You're a dude, he's a dude, you both like dudes, what's the deal?"
xx
Blaine appreciated Puck's efforts, he really did. The other boy was clearly uncomfortable, but trying not to show it.
"Kurt is my best friend," Blaine said. "I care too much to ruin it by trying to start a relationship with him. He means far too much to me."
Puck shrugged. "Finn's my best friend and I made out with his girl, and it didn't ruin it."
"You people in New Directions have a twisted idea of a functional relationship," Blaine snapped. "Out of all of you, Mike and Tina's is the most functional, and that includes your teacher."
"Dude," Puck said, almost in astonishment.
"You may consider it normal or okay to get it on with both of the girlfriends your best friend has had, but I can assure that is neither normal nor in any way acceptable in most people's books, including mine. As strange as it may sound, Kurt is not expendable to me. I care about him far too much to let him go by screwing things up with him. I refuse to make unwanted advances on him."
Puck shrugged. "I'm not really sure what you want me to say. I'm in love with a girl who won't even let me make out with her and for some reason I'm okay with it." He slid back onto Andrew's bed until he was sitting. "I say go for it, dude. Kurt likes you. He won't kick your ass."
"He's interested in someone else," Blaine said shortly.
Puck raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna be honest, Kurt's my boy and all, but he doesn't have a ton of friends. I think we would know if he was hot for another guy."
"He had about six texts from a guy named Noah, and they seemed to make him pretty happy," Blaine said grumpily, picking at his comforter.
Puck actually laughed, and Blaine glared at him.
"Seriously. Dude?" Puck said. "My name is Noah Puckerman. Puck's a nickname. Mercedes' phone died so she texted Kurt from mine."
Blaine felt incredibly stupid.
Puck was still grinning to himself. After a moment, he gestured to the door. "You're cool, man. You're one of us. So go back down to the party and get a piece of that."
Okay, what?
"Did I just get... your approval?" he asked uncertainly, following Puck to the door.
Puck smiled. "Kurt likes you, you like football, so you gotta be cool." He brought his fist up, and Blaine tentatively tapped his own fist against it.
"Plus, you're the only person I've met that Hummel doesn't act like a bitch to, and that's something. So you have to be pretty cool," Puck said as they started down the stairs.
Blaine laughed, and then they started talking about the Buckeyes, and before he knew it, they were back in the choir room and Kurt was looking at them curiously.
Puck messed up Blaine's perfectly gelled hair (for which Blaine chewed him out quite thoroughly in his head), and headed off to bother Finn.
Kurt glided toward him, one of his eyebrows arched. "Care to explain?"
"Not especially." Blaine shot him one of his charming smiles.
"And your headache?"
"Never existed," Blaine admitted, and Kurt's eyebrows shot up. Blaine sighed. "Look, Kurt. It was just a moment of insecurity. Seeing you with all these people- your friends. I don't belong. Here." His words were stilted.
"Puck likes you. Mike and Sam, and all of the girls." Kurt tugged on his lapel. "Blaine, I've always thought of Mercedes as my best friend."
And there it was again, the reminder that Blaine would never be first in anything in Kurt's life- romance, friendship. Anything.
"But she has some pretty fierce competition in you," Kurt said, and Blaine's stomach seemed to fly up to take the place of his heart. "You haven't noticed that I tell you... well, everything? I think it's possible to have more than one best friend, don't you?"
"You may have noticed that you're my best friend here," Blaine said. "I mean, there's Wes and David, but they have their own... thing."
"I'm going to ask you something now," Kurt said, his face serious but for the little twitch in his lips. "Are you absolutely sure that Wes and David are not gay and in love with each other?"
"Okay, I can answer the first one pretty confidently," Blaine said. "No, they are not gay. But I'm pretty sure they are in love with each other."
"I think..." Kurt said, in a strange tone, "that being at McKinley has screwed up my head. Either Dalton is normal and McKinley is crazy, or Dalton is crazy and McKinley is normal."
"Or we're both crazy in different ways," Blaine supplied helpfully. "I would like to point out the fact that everyone here seems to think that they're British, and everyone is engaged in some form of bromance."
Kurt laughed, sliding his arm through Blaine's. "Come on, there's only one member of New Directions you haven't met."
There was a large girl Blaine only vaguely recognized standing by the snack table, eating a handful of skittles.
"Blaine, Lauren Zises. Lauren, Blaine."
Lauren eyed him for a few hostile seconds, then held out a hand. "I'd like seven minutes in heaven with you," she said.
Blaine should've been startled, but this was a McKinley girl, so somehow he really wasn't. "Unfortunately, I don't play for your team," he explained.
To his surprised, she actually smiled more widely. "IRL slash? I could get with that."
He shot a look at Kurt that clearly said "what?"
Kurt shrugged.
Finn was coming in the doors with a cake, which clearly spelled disaster, as Finn often couldn't walk over flat surfaces without tripping and dropping whatever he was holding. Kurt hurried over quickly to help him with it.
Lauren dipped her finger into the dip bowl, then licked it clean, her eyes still locked on Blaine. "Are you getting hot with Hummel?" she asked.
Jesus, what the hell was up with these people? Blaine was absolutely determined not to blush or look away as he answered. "No. We're just friends. Two gay people can be friends without being into each other, you know."
"Oh, I know," Lauren said. "But you two can't."
And then she sauntered away, and Blaine was left to think that little sweetheart over.
The candles were lit, and the lights were flicked off, and Blaine was still halfway across the room from the rest of them.
They were all singing, gathered around Mercedes, who was swatting at all of them and blushing. Blaine joined in half-heartedly, but his eyes were locked on Kurt, who was leaning over Mercedes' left-shoulder and singing right into her ear. The candle-light illuminated his face softly, throwing his features into sharp contrasting shadows.
The song ended, and Kurt pressed a kiss to Mercedes' cheek, and Blaine selfishly wondered why he'd never had the same attentions paid to him. After all, he was Kurt's best friend too, wasn't he?
And oh god, that was so stupid, he realized just as Kurt turned to look at him. Mercedes might be Kurt's shopping buddy and the one who got the kisses on the cheek, but Blaine was the one who Kurt called when he was on the verge of an emotional breakdown involving Karofsky, and Blaine was the one who Kurt traded sarcastic quips with, and Blaine was the one who Kurt studied with, and the one he read Vogue with, and the first person he called when he had good news.
So he and Mercedes were on even footing. They were both friend-zoned.
Kurt smiled softly at him as Mercedes blew out the candles, and Blaine smiled back, holding Kurt's gaze as the room went dark.
Kurt had never shown any sign of being interested in him at all. He considered Blaine as his best friend, and that was a start, but until he showed any real romantic interest, Blaine couldn't bring himself to break the best thing that had ever happened to him.
A/N: I think the meet the family is the next chapter, and it may take a little bit to write. I'm sorry about that, but I'm basing Jane off a girl I know and I have to carefully observe her bitchy characteristics.