Kissing Kurt had left Blaine in a muddle. He'd tried to behave normally through lunch at Breadstix, but once he'd got home he lay on his bed and thought. What did that kiss mean? Were they still friends? Were they boyfriends? Blaine sighed and put on the radio beside his bed, listening to the two hosts talking.
It had been under the mistletoe. It was tradition, right? It didn't have to mean anything. But somehow he didn't think that he could brush it off like that.
"How's it hanging, sport?" Blaine's dad – a tall, dark-haired man with Blaine's nose – had entered the room without knocking and now stood a few feet from Blaine's bed.
"Yeah, good," Blaine replied half-heartedly.
"You alright, son? You look like someone kicked you in the balls," his dad said.
Shouldn't dad talk about this kind of thing with their sons? Blaine was sure that his father's mood would turn sour very quickly if he found out about the kiss. He sat up and forced. "No, I'm fine," he said.
"Well, good." Mr Anderson sat down hard on the bed and punched Blaine in the arm. Blaine tried not to wince. "Hey, what say we go fishing again this weekend? There's a lovely lake only five hours' drive away that'd be just right this time of year."
Blaine sighed. "Dad, I don't like fishing."
"Of course you do! Do you remember how happy you were when you caught that haddock last year?"
"You caught that."
"Nonsense! You're being modest. Okay, I'll wake you bright and early in the morning to head off." Without letting Blaine get a word in, he stood up and headed to the door.
"Dad!" Blaine called, causing his father to stop. "Can I ask you something?"
Mr Anderson turned and looked expectantly at Blaine.
"Well..." Blaine began, licking his lips awkwardly. "Just say, like, hypothetically, that you... like someone. And then you kiss them under mistletoe. What should you do from there?"
Blaine's father narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "Why are you asking?"
Panicking, Blaine replied, "it happened to my friend and he's asked me for advice."
"Which friend?"
"Um..." Blaine's head spun. "Kurt."
"I see." A pause. "Did this happen today?"
Blaine wasn't sure what to respond with. "Yes."
A longer pause. "At school?"
"Yes."
"Was he drunk?" A scathing tone had seeped into Blaine's father's voice.
"No, no."
"But this was him and... another boy."
"Yes."
Mr Anderson drew himself up to his full height and said, "well, Blaine, I'd suggest you end your friendship with such a character as soon as possible."
Blaine wasn't sure what to say. He looked down and nodded curtly.
"Right, well, I'm going to watch the match." Blaine's father opened the bedroom door, heading out of it. "I'll see you at dinner, champ."
"Yessir."
When the door had clicked shut, Blaine laid back down and sighed again. Well, that had been helpful.