A/N: I am so sorry that it has been almost 90 days since this fic last saw the light of day. I have been extremely busy, and I did take some time off to enjoy the holidays. So, Thanksgiving stories and some fluff, but I do have to warn for a homophobic slur in here. Just one. And as for the last scene: Back when I started this fic, Season 2 wasn't even over. So, I stay loyal to my canon, despite later changes revealed on Glee. So, Blaine's brother's name (and the rest of his family) is consistent with Meet the Warblers. K, just wanted to make sure you would remember that. Read on.
Out of the list he had dictated to Blaine, musical rehearsals were by far the most stressful. Burt and Carole had spent the last weekend cake shopping and had finally picked a small, well-decorated vanilla cake which coordinated perfectly with the color scheme and would look great in the reception hall. The rehearsal dinner had been planned for the night before the wedding at a smaller venue, but considering only a few people needed to be there, he could make it work. The flowers would be delivered the morning of the wedding, he had to pick up the printed announcements and programs after school, and Carole had picked out the favors with him while his father was watching the Deadliest Catch. Everything was falling into place.
"What about Carole's more religious friends?" Rachel's shrieking broke into his musing as he flipped through his wedding binder. "I'm sure they wouldn't approve."
"My mom has religious friends?" Finn asked to deaf ears.
"If they're truly religious, they won't even know what that word means," Quinn argued. "I had to Google it myself, and as the most religious person in the room, I have no problem with the reference as long as the foul substance isn't forced down my own throat."
"I can't even remember what they're arguing about anymore," Kurt muttered to himself as he stood up to intervene.
"Rachel wants to replace the word 'patron' in Marry You with... something that I can't remember anymore," Sam whispered helpfully.
"Rachel, stop it! I don't usually appreciate your suggestions, but they're especially unhelpful today! The word 'patron' is completely appropriate and I assure you that it will bother absolutely no one on the guest list. We are using patron, I like Mike's additions to the choreography, and Tina was right when she said free-styling would be best for the bride and groom, because they'll be stressed out enough that choreography will be the last thing on their minds. Now, sit down!" Kurt said finally, not yelling because he knew it would upset Finn but wanting to. Everyone could tell that he had snapped though. "I think we should reconvene tomorrow to practice more, not argue, and then on Thursday I have booked up half an hour to practice in the actual church where we will perform, so we can better block our movements. Dismissed."
The Cheerio in Kurt delighted as everyone but a teary Rachel got up and left as per his instructions. Sometimes it was nice to be the leader of the room.
"Go easy on her," Finn mumbled, brushing by Kurt as he left. Kurt sighed.
"Rachel, I'm sorry. It's been a long week, and the wedding's been so stressful." That was not a true lie, just a lie of omission. Yes, the wedding was stressing him out, but the retaliation from the jocks for the fact that he had removed a player who was apparently good at his job right before playoffs was the other half of the reason. Nothing was as bad as having Karofsky around, but the others avenging their right guard were certainly getting on his nerves.
"I know. I just wish you were happy." It was possibly the sweetest thing Rachel had said to him, ignoring the fact that all her sentences started with 'I'. "We were all so worried about you, when Karofsky was around. You were apathetic, losing weight that you don't have to lose, you didn't even care when I suggested that I sing in Marry You instead of you."
"It was a good suggestion," Kurt muttered off-handedly.
"We all wanted to help you, we just didn't know how to."
"The Glee girls with boyfriends meeting?" Kurt asked, remembering that Rachel and Mercedes had been the ones who called his father.
"My idea. Quinn was supposed to talk to Sam, but she didn't because she claimed and still claims that they technically aren't dating, Tina talked to Mike, Brittany talked to Artie, and I talked to Finn." Rachel sighed. "I tried," she said under her breath.
"Finn refused, didn't he?" Kurt asked, knowing what the answer would be but wanted to hear it anyway.
"I couldn't convince him. He was being an idiot and acting like he cared more about his popularity than you, and he... yes, he refused. I just wish that Karofsky going away had solved all of your problems, Kurt." Kurt sighed again. No matter what she did, when Rachel go that earnest I-really-care look, he couldn't stay mad at her. It was just unfair.
"For the most part, it did, Rachel. Don't worry about me. If you're going to worry about something, worry about the fact that you're the only girl who doesn't have a dress yet. Only you could spend an entire day in Columbus the bossiest and most fashion-forward bunch of girls I have ever met and still not have a dress for your boyfriend's mothers wedding," Kurt tried to say it gently rather than accusatively.
"I'm serious, Kurt." Rachel completely ignored what he had said only as she could, with self-centered ease. "You've... lost weight, you look tired, you weren't even excited about the wedding for a while. I-I don't know what you were going through... but I'm, uh, I'm glad you're okay."
Kurt sighed, and smiled at Rachel. She really did have her moments, even if she stumbled and stuttered her way through them. "Thank you, Rachel."
"So, I was thinking about Sectionals-"
"I have to pick up some printing," he said quickly, practically running out of the choir room, and straight into the trajectory of a slushie.
"We've been waiting for you, faggot," a hissed voice said, shoving him so he almost fell in the pile of slushie. Past the laughing jocks walking by, he could dimly hear Rachel doing vocal exercises in the choir room with poor Brad.
Just the way to end his perfect day. Twenty-four hours until Thanksgiving break had been his mantra all the way through the week, and he continued to mentally chant that as he headed for the bathroom half-blind.
He wiped the slushie for his face as best he could with a damp, warm paper towel, hating the way the blue had already died his oh-so-pale skin. At least they had aimed to ruin his clothes and there were only a few spare bits of ice in his hair that he could pick out. His shirt was soaked beyond repair, and he pulled it off so that the fluid wouldn't seep, not looking at himself in the mirror as he wiped off his chest. He wrung out his thoroughly-ruined shirt, slipping it back on so he could grab his spare clothes out of his locker.
Kurt opened his locker with practiced, automatic ease, ignoring the slurs spray-painted on it with the same ease. Of course his spare clothes were gone, the scratches on the back of his lock clearly indicating that they had picked it, and poorly at that. Resigning himself to being a smurf for a little while longer, he swore repeatedly at whatever was above and thanked physics for the fact that only his face, shirt, and forearms were blue. He was only half-smurf. He really needed that coffee now.
"Hey there, Eytukan," Blaine said cheerily as Kurt approached, both of them ignoring the stares Kurt was getting for being half blue. "Sorry, only male avatar I could think of," he explained at Kurt's glare.
"Very funny." Kurt sat down, chugged probably half the coffee Blaine had gotten him in one gulp, and continued to glare.
"What happened?" Blaine asked, gesturing wildly at his blue area.
"A few jocks were not very happy that I took out a star player just before playoffs." Kurt shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."
"How bad is it?" Kurt had said nothing about retaliation before.
"Nothing I can't handle," Kurt repeated. "Rachel's being a royal pain in my ass," he said, changing the subject rather obviously.
"How so?" Blaine accepted the subject change with grace, knowing Kurt well enough by now to know that he would talk about whatever was happening at his school only when he was ready.
"She still doesn't have a dress the week before the wedding, and she rejects any changes to the musical number because most of it was originally her idea, and she's been harping at us about Sectionals even though we have no time to plan for that while the wedding's going on, and Finn's too busy being sophomoric about me and the jocks to control her!"
Blaine patiently waited for Kurt to finish his rant, sipping his coffee. "What's going on with Finn?"
"He cares more about his position on the totem pole than he does about me!" Kurt snapped, then sighed, his shoulders slumping as all the anger seeped out of his posture. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Blaine said gently, placing his hand over Kurt's. "That's what I'm here for."
"He's being a complete moron," Kurt said softly, twining his fingers with Blaine's and staring at the table as he spoke. "The least he could do is control his girlfriend if he's not even going to stand up for me against the other morons."
"Does this have something to do with what happened in the locker room?" Blaine asked, and he realized his faux pas when Kurt's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "No! No, no, no, I mean with Sam punching Karofsky and getting a black eye and everything," Blaine quickly corrected himself, wincing at how tactless that was.
"Since you only got my angry rant and not the whole story, you don't know that the first people to talk to Karofsky were Mike and Artie, who had been coerced by Tina and Brittany respectively. Sam only stepped in, not having been coerced by Quinn as Rachel planned because they're not technically dating, when Karofsky pushed Mike into Artie. Finn, having been asked by Rachel, flat out refused to help at all, and was thus out on the field when all of this happened. He didn't care enough to help," Kurt whispered out the ending, probably trying not to get emotional in the middle of the Lima Bean. He looked up from the table when Blaine squeezed his hand.
"Hey, it's okay," Blaine said softly. "Just because your soon-to-be step-brother is an ass, doesn't mean you should cry. This is his problem, not yours, and I absolutely believe that Rachel will make it hers too." Kurt giggled softly at that.
"Thank you," Kurt said quietly. "I don't even care that he didn't say anything to Karofsky, I just wish he'd do something now. There isn't even as much potential for backlash."
"Kurt," Blaine began firmly, "what's going on?" For a moment, he mentally thought how silly he must look holding hands with someone who looked like a smurf from the waist up.
"I really mean it when I say nothing, Blaine." Kurt held Blaine's gaze, which didn't help Blaine determine if he was lying or not. "This is the least the bullying has been since I started high school. A few slushies and some clothes in the dumpster with no Karofsky around to haunt me is absolutely nothing, comparatively. Which is why it hurts even more that Finn is refusing to stand up for me. He's done so against much worse than this." Kurt sighed, shaking his head and withdrawing his hand. "He's an idiot."
"We already knew that," Blaine said, taking his hand off the table.
"I considered transferring to Dalton for a while there, you know," Kurt commented offhandedly, his attempt at a subtle subject change.
"I know," Blaine replied, confused when Kurt looked up at him in shock. "Your dad told me," he explained, just then remembering that Kurt hadn't. "Why didn't you?"
"Well, for some people that don't own giant mansions, Dalton tuition is kind of expensive," Kurt teased.
"Must you perpetually mock me for my wealth?" Blaine asked with a dramatic sigh. "But yeah, I understand that. It's kind of ridiculous how much Dalton costs, I'm sure ninety percent of that goes straight to the diocese and has nothing to do with the actual school."
"Diocese?" Kurt asked.
"The Diocese of Columbus, yeah," Blaine replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Catholic school, remember?" Blaine reminded at Kurt's confused look.
"Oh, I didn't know that."
"Most 'academies' tend to be religious." Blaine shrugged. "The religious aspect at Dalton isn't horrible, but I'm willing to bet a lot of our tuition goes straight to the diocese."
"Corruption at it's best," Kurt said, raising his cup in a mock-toast and rolling his eyes.
"Not quite corruption, but..." Blaine trailed off, letting the topic slide. He knew what Kurt thought of religion and churches. "There are a lot of scholarship opportunities at Dalton, though. Academic, musical... the Warblers pay for ringers all the time."
"Of course they do," Kurt said with a little smirk, another slight Blaine would let slide. "Do they pay for you?"
"I don't think I qualify as a ringer, Kurt," Blaine said with a laugh. "We always face Vocal Adrenaline in Sectionals and get absolutely destroyed. It's completely luck of the draw that we're going to win Sectionals this year." Blaine smirked.
"Only in your dreams, Anderson."
"Says the one who just said the New Directions haven't rehearsed for Sectionals. That's all we've been doing since we started school. Practice makes perfect, Kurt."
"Yes, but doing a perfect side-step isn't going to win you any trophies around here, Blaine. I don't care how amazing your voice is, you're too formal to be performers."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Blaine said, running a hand through his hair, a bad habit. "I swear to God, I'm going to shovel that gavel down Wes' frickin' throat if he doesn't loosen up." Blaine shook his head. "I believe the original point of this conversation was to say I'm sure the Warblers would pay for you, if the idea ever crosses your mind again."
"As sweet as it is that you think I could be a ringer, I don't need to go to Dalton now. Life at McKinley is as close to perfect as it's ever going to get." Just as Blaine was about to comment how being bullied less did not equal perfection and Kurt shouldn't settle for life at McKinley, Kurt's phone buzzed. "And there's the lovely bride to be, asking where her announcements and programs are. I should go; the closer the wedding gets, the more intolerable she becomes," Kurt explained as he stood up. He leaned over quickly to give Blaine a hug and then was gone.
"Where have you been?" Carole asked when he walked into the house, not demanding, just curious.
"I was having coffee with Blaine, but don't worry, I didn't forget to pick up the announcements and programs," Kurt said, placing the two boxes on the counter.
"So, spending more time with this mysterious Blaine guy?" Carole asked with a teasing twinkle in her eye.
"Carole, you're as bad as Mercedes," Kurt complained, but Carole just smiled.
"Don't think I didn't notice his name on the guest list when you and your father were arguing about including your relatives." If it hadn't been so close to Carole's wedding, he would have glared at her.
"You told me to invite him," Kurt defended, but his facial muscles betrayed him. He couldn't help but smile; Carole just shook her head and laughed.
"I know I did, and I'm glad you did. You obviously like him a lot." Kurt blushed at that, but Carole just smiled.
"I think these look really good," Kurt said, trying to change the subject by handing Carole one of each from the boxes, but Carole didn't even look at them before setting them aside and patting the seat next to her on the couch.
"Don't tell Finn this, because you know I love my son, his miscreant best friend, and all the trouble they get into together dearly, but I have always wanted someone to talk boys and fashion shows with," Carole said.
"Well, that's what I'm here for," Kurt said, picking the program and announcement back up to try to show them to Carole.
"Oh, would you stop that? You're worrying too much. Almost everything's done, you've pulled off a miracle, and the wedding's going to be phenomenal," Carole said in that motherly voice that always made him want to listen to her. "You know I do consider you as my second son." Before Kurt could say anything, Carole smiled and added, "I wouldn't have let you give me that makeover if I didn't."
"You needed it," Kurt replied. "Badly." Carole was fabulous and beautiful with the right haircut and some new clothes. Carole chuckled, and went for his hair at that one. "Carole!"
"I know, I know, don't touch the hair," she said with a laugh. "And when you become a parent, taking care of your children kind of takes precedence over taking care of yourself, which someday, when you find some amazing man who's talented enough to follow you wherever your big dreams take you, you will know first-hand. At least, I hope you will," Carole said, giving him a hug.
"Maybe," was all Kurt said, not thinking about that too soon. He wasn't sure how he felt about children.
"I'm sure you will," Carole said, mistakenly assuming he doubted he would find a talented husband. "I've been lucky enough to find two." Carole was smiling like crazy, and Kurt definitely wanted to have what she and his dad had someday.
"Baby steps, Carole. First I have to get through high school." Carole chuckled at that.
"It's a horrible trial we all have to face," she agreed, "tougher for some of us than others." She stood up, stretching. "All right, I think you've done enough for the bride today. Your father and I are going out for dinner tonight, so no girls for Finn and no boys for you," she said firmly, but then smiled. "Well, maybe Blaine."
"Carole!" he protested, but this was the kind of family teasing he had been expecting.
"Oh shush. Go do your homework, and make sure you and Finn both get to bed on time." Kurt stood up to follow her orders before he realized that they were orders. Yes, he would have done so anyway, but he had never had a parent-figure that bossed him around. His dad trusted him enough to assume Kurt would take care of both of them, so Kurt made his own bedtimes and took care of both their diets. The feeling was new and rather odd, but not entirely bad. For now, he realized, thinking of the arguments Mercedes had with her parents.
"Have fun at dinner," Kurt said as he headed for the basement, not able to bring himself to return the sentiment of considering Carole his mother. He didn't, not yet.
"We will," Carole replied as the door closed behind him.
"I hate everything," Blaine declared when Kurt called him after the dinner he had made for him and Finn, which Finn of course had taken up to the study he stayed in while he was stuck at Kurt's house (which had been more and more lately), his new thing being completely avoiding Kurt.
"Hello to you too, sir. I certainly hope you don't hate me," Kurt replied, doing his best Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle impression and making Blaine chuckle.
"No, of course not. I'm just so... frustrated!" Blaine practically growled, and Kurt could hear air escape from his comforter as he flopped back... and the subsequent thunk of his head hitting his headboard. "Ow," came Blaine's voice a few seconds later.
"You all right over there?" A mumble was Kurt's only answer, but he decided to take that as an affirmative. "What has you so riled up? or do I not want to know?" Kurt teased automatically.
"Kurt!" Blaine pretended to be offended, but he was laughing.
"If only I could tell you, but it has to do with the whooping your club is going to get at Sectionals, and I would break our solemn show choir Don't Ask, Don't Tell," Blaine said, but his heart wasn't in the teasing.
"Ah, so it's about Glee?" Kurt asked, and Blaine chuckled.
"I don't think I've ever heard anyone but you call it that, but yes. It does involve the Warblers and I can't tell you about it. We would be breaking our solemn gentleman's agreement, and I would pay for it. More likely: Wes would kill me and sell my body on the black market to pay for sheet music." Blaine sighed. "Yet, somehow, you've managed to make me feel better. How do you do that?"
"Magic," Kurt replied dryly, making Blaine laugh some more.
"How did Carole like... whatever it was you were in charge of picking up?" he asked, in one of his usual clumsy attempts to be interested in Kurt's obsession with Carole's wedding.
"She didn't even look at that," Kurt said with a sigh of his own. "She got distracted."
"Your dad interrupt your wedding mania with his bride again?" Blaine asked, his tone amused.
"Something like that." Kurt looked down at the homework he was supposed to be doing and groaned.
"What's up?"
"I could do this English essay in my sleep," Kurt complained. Compare and contrast the rhetorical strategies of two reviews of Frankenstein in a five-paragraph essay? Seriously?
"I'm sure you would be much more challenged at Dalton," Blaine tempted, making Kurt sigh again.
"Weren't we literally discussing this earlier?" Kurt asked. "Blaine, I'm happy at McKinley."
"Kurt, I was just kidding," Blaine said, and he sounded hesitant. "Is something more wrong?"
"No, sorry, it's been a long week, you know? I should work on my English homework. I'll talk to you soon?"
"Of course. Bye, Kurt," Blaine said as usual, but he still sounded concerned.
"Bye, Blaine," was all Kurt said in reply. Blaine's concern was his own problem.
Kurt had survived until Thanksgiving. Earlier in the year, that was a feat he hadn't been sure he was going to accomplish, but he had lived through another school day without throttling Rachel, gone twenty-four hours without talking to Blaine for the first time since they'd met, and was now happily preparing Thanksgiving dinner with Carole as Finn and Burt sat in the living room watching football. They were expecting the entire Berry clan later, but other than them, Thanksgiving was going to be a quiet, family affair. Their first, as a matter of fact.
"I realized I haven't said it yet," Carole began after almost an hour of working in a completely comfortable silence, disregarding requests for various tools and ingredients. "Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Carole." Kurt was more than thrilled to have Carole over for Thanksgiving dinner. It was Finn that he was worried about. He had somehow managed to go from the front door to the living room in the two seconds Kurt had been rummaging through the fridge. Kurt would have been impressed with Finn's swift stealth if he hadn't been so annoyed that Finn was still avoiding him, and successfully at that.
"You seem down, are you all right?" Carole asked, and Kurt really didn't want to get into the fact that the reason he was so upset was the son she loved so very much.
"I'm fine. Just tired," Kurt lied, and apparently his lying skills had returned to normal from the ridiculous week of not getting away with anything that he'd had. Either that, or Carole didn't know him well enough to be able to tell. Either way, she believed him.
His phone buzzed, and he had to wash his hands before he pulled out his iPhone (almost dropping it, he probably should have dried his hands a little better), and unlocked it to read the text.
From: Blaine
'Happy Thanksgiving. I know you're mad at me, or upset, or whatever, and you don't have to tell me why, but I just wanted to let you know that I am really thankful that I met you.'
Kurt's heart melted. Blaine had spent the last day thinking Kurt was angry with him, but still sent him the sweetest text ever. Why did he have to be so nice? It made Kurt feel like a bad person.
"I'm guessing that's Blaine, judging by your expression." Kurt ignored Carole's comment and tried to think of something to say in return.
To: Blaine
'Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. I'm definitely not mad at you, and the only thing that really has me upset is Finn, but it's a holiday, and I don't care anymore. I'm really glad I met you, Blaine. To be honest, you may have saved my sanity... maybe even my life. So, thank you.'
From: Blaine
'Oh, so you do love me :)'
Kurt giggled, ignoring the raised eyebrows he was getting from his almost-step-mother, who was now cooking Thanksgiving dinner all by herself. Kurt returned to their preparations, sending off a quick reply before pocketing his phone and ignoring the little butterflies in his stomach that always appeared when Blaine was being adorably dapper. "Sorry, Carole."
To: Blaine
'Sometimes. But yes, right now, I am very happy to know you.'
"No, no. You have every right to ignore your step-mom and text the guy you like. You are a teenager, sweetie."
Kurt smiled. "I'll helped in a second," he replied, pulling his phone back out. Then he froze, unused to the quick, accurate parental observations. "How did you know that I was texting Blaine?" Carole laughed in reply.
"A mother always knows," she said mysteriously. "And just because your father tends to be a little oblivious, doesn't mean your emotions aren't usually written all over your face." Kurt blushed at that. Did she really find him that easy to read? "Not so much when you're upset, maybe, but definitely when you're happy. And Blaine obviously makes you very happy."
From: Blaine
'Well, I'm very happy to know you as well, even if you are a little bit of a pain in my butt sometimes, Hummel.'
"He really does," Kurt admitted after he had read Blaine's reply.
"Good," Carole said approvingly as Kurt tried to think of a proper reply to Blaine's last text. "You deserve someone who makes you happy." Carole,Kurt had decided, was a goddess in the kitchen, multi-tasking like crazy as Kurt texted Blaine in reply, feeling guilty.
To: Blaine
'You're a bit of pain in my butt too, but you're possibly the nicest person I've ever met, and the best at putting up with me. I should go, I'm supposed to be helping Carole make dinner. Happy Thanksgiving.'
From: Blaine
'You said that already. Now go help your mother. Happy Thanksgiving.'
"All right, ready to help," Kurt promised, pocketing his phone and being handed a task by Carole. They cooked in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the sound of chatting, groans, and sports commentators from inside the living room, until...
"Hey, mom, can you bring me a soda?" Finn called from the living room, and Kurt rolled his eyes. The boy was almost seventeen and he still couldn't be bothered to tear himself away from a football game for two minutes to get his own soda and not disrupt what his mother is doing, even when she's cooking for him!
"Kurt, sweetie, would you mind terribly?" Carole asked him, her hands covered in butter. "He likes the Mountain Dew, it's in the fridge." Kurt sighed but smiled at his almost step-mother, pouring Finn a cup of Mountain Dew (he didn't trust the clumsy lummox with a glass), and bringing it into the man cave Burt and Finn had made in the living room, being hissed at as he walked in front of the TV.
Finn stared at the Mountain Dew in his hand uncomprehendingly. "I asked Mom."
"You got me," Kurt replied, resisting the urge to slap Finn. Did he have to be ridiculous about everything? Kurt was doing him a favor!
"Thanks," Finn muttered, grabbing the cup without touching Kurt's skin in any way, and Kurt didn't ignore the fact that the only reason he was doing it was probably the glare he was getting from Burt. Kurt resisted the urge to huff and gave into the urge to flounce off.
"Kurt, Carole," Burt called a few minutes later. "Do you think you two could nip over to the store and get us some more beer? We're all out."
"There's some more in the-" Kurt tried to argue, knowing they had plenty of beer. Since Burt allowed Finn to have some on important game days (which today apparently qualified as), they had bought plenty.
"Kurt," Burt said firmly. "I would really appreciate if both of you would go to store and get us more beer." Carole smiled to herself, and gestured to the door with a freshly-de-buttered thumb.
Blaine smiled at his little text exchange with Kurt, pocketing his phone and facing his best friend, who had been staring at him throughout the conversation with raised eyebrow. "May I help you?" Blaine asked, not annoyed in the slightest.
"Just wondering how you're so in denial that you can't even see how he makes you smile like a love struck idiot," Charlie commented, looking perfectly relaxed splayed out on Blaine's bed. "Thanks for inviting me to Thanksgiving again."
"No problem. I'm sure my parents will remember my existence at some point." Charlie raised an eyebrow at Blaine's bitter tone, and Blaine shook his head.
"Sorry. I'm fine." Apparently, Blaine meant what he said, because Charlie accepted that, and he always knew when something was up with Blaine.
"We should just chill out and have pizza," Charlie commented. "This whole holiday is a scam anyway. Thanksgiving is supposed to be a celebration of our first big meal with the Native Americans, but in reality we ended up being tricked by, slaughtering, and generally having horrible relations with them. So, I vote we hold a Thanksgiving boycott." Blaine cracked up. The comment was so Charlie, and it was exactly what he needed.
"Thanksgiving is about saying what you're thankful for," Blaine argued. "Back then, the Pilgrims were thankful that the Native Americans had pitched in and kept them alive, or else they wouldn't have survived and America probably would have never been colonized by the British."
"Well, you're thankful for Kurt, and I'm thankful that I have something to tool on your for, especially something boy-related. There. Bases covered. Order pizza."
Blaine used the Domino's app to order some delivery from the restaurant on North State Street/Route 3. Then the most blood-curdling noise of all time swept through his house.
"Was that... the garage door?" Charlie asked, and he sounded as scared as Blaine felt.
"Yes."
"Any chance that's Cooper coming home?"
"No."
"Your mom coming to whisk you away to New York?"
"My dad has custody."
"Step-mom home from Los Angeles?"
"Not a chance. She wouldn't want to run into him."
"Damn."
Both boys slunk downstairs just in time to see Michael Anderson walk through the door. Charlie always said that he had never figured out how this man created Blaine and Everett (his exact words were a little more... suggestive, but that was the general gist). Blaine could see his point. Michael Anderson had the dark hair Blaine and Everett had and the blue eyes that were the only distinguishing feature between his sons (besides a few inches in height), but there was nothing particularly remarkable about his face. He was a strung-up business man, so he looked thin, but tall, and there were always deep black circles underneath his eyes, but Blaine knew how strong he was, and how frightening he could be when he wanted to.
"Blaine, where is my wife?" Blaine's mouth tightened. Everett was always 'Son,' Lila 'Daughter'. His father had never called him by anything but his name, and had never called Ev or Lils by their proper names. It was one of the few distinctions that really bothered him.
"Los Angeles, still." Blaine resisted the urge to call him 'Michael.' He knew how well that went over.
"Hey Mr. A," Charlie said casually, wrapping an arm around Blaine's shoulder. Charlie loved to antagonize his father.
"Shields," his dad said coldly. "I don't recall inviting you to this family celebration." Blaine snorted, and his father glared at him. Charlie squeezed his shoulder.
"Blainers did, of course. We just ordered pizza."
"Why is there no turkey?" his dad asked coldly.
"You'd have to ask your wife," Blaine said before he could help it.
"You will not disrespect me as such," his dad said, standing to his full height (at last six inches taller than Blaine. Why did he have to be so short?) and trying to look over Blaine. "You have already disrespected this sacred family tradition by inviting a... friend, and I will not have you speaking to me in that tone."
Michael Anderson stalked into the dining room, and Charlie and Blaine both rolled their eyes, Charlie squeezing Blaine's shoulder again.
"You really have to act like my boyfriend when you're here?" Blaine asked, not particularly caring about the arm around his shoulder, but knowing that it wasn't improving his father's mood.
"It's fun," Charlie said, shrugging. "Besides, it's not like he's going to be nice anyway." Blaine sighed, and Charlie kissed the side of his head. "Happy Thanksgiving, goofball."
"Happy Thanksgiving, moron."
"I'm not one to lecture, Finn, but this has been going on for too long," Burt said finally in the awkward silence left when Kurt and Mom had headed for the store to get beer they didn't really need. Finn wasn't the brightest tool in the shed, but even he knew they had plenty of beer. "First you didn't help Kurt out when there were... people," Burt said through gritted teeth, "threatening his life, and now you're treating him like they do, like dirt under their shoes."
"I just thought my mom was bringing me my soda," Finn said, but he knew Burt wouldn't believe it. It wasn't that he minded Kurt bringing him his soda, but he didn't want to be Kurt's brother. He wasn't ready for that yet, and he knew what everyone at school would say.
"I understand the importance of who brings you your cup of Mountain Dew," so that's where Kurt had gotten the sarcasm from, "but I don't think that's really the issue here is it, Finn?"
"No," Finn muttered, not meeting Burt's eyes.
"Finn, I'm going to give you one piece of advice, and then we'll never have to talk about this again. Sometimes you don't like the hand life has dealt you, and when teenagers don't, they become obnoxious belligerent idiots. So, man up. Kurt's going to be your little brother soon, you're responsible for him. I don't care if you like it, I don't care that you never wanted this, I don't care that you didn't have a choice in this. You and Kurt are brothers now, and that's a bond that's going to last a lot longer than whichever girl you're dating right now. Kurt's put together an entire wedding to show his support for Carole and I. What have you done?"
Finn didn't answer. He didn't have a reply. The truth was, he kind of had treated Kurt like crap lately, and it wasn't exactly like Kurt was happy about this. Yeah, he had started it by introducing them, but this totally didn't even go with his original plan, and judging by the way he's been treating Finn, he's long over that. Over him. He and Kurt were stuck in the same spot, but Kurt had a crap ton else to deal with, and he had still been the better son lately.
"I haven't done much," Finn answered honestly as Carole and Kurt walked back through the door with a case of beer that would end up in the corner of Kurt's basement for a while, "but I know what I'm going to do."
A/N: The first time I watched 'Furt' (the time I transcribe the scenes for this fic will be about the 400000th) I immediately wondered who had given Finn the kick in the pants, so I decided that in this fic it would be Burt, because Burt will always speak up for his son. We know nothing about Blaine's mysterious dad, so I just kind of painted him as he is in my head, which is seemingly normal to other people but awful to his second son. So, I hope you guys liked, and I'm sorry for the long wait.
Songs used/mentioned:
'Marry You' by Bruno Mars (mentioned)
Reviews are Love. Even though I'm a crappy updater and I don't deserve them.
