Quick reminders:
ADA=Americans With Disabilities Act
IEP=Individualized Educational Program (a legal document that describes a student's disability, states what the school will do to meet the student's educational needs including service minutes of specialized services, specific goals that will be addressed, and accommodations the student will be provided to allow them access to the curriculum)


Chapter 14: Back

"Well, that's a new one!"

Ms. Shine arched an eyebrow at Blaine from across Ms. Pillsbury's desk.

He shrugged in response.

"They prepared us for a lot of different situations in graduate school but I can honestly say that one of my students testifying in court was not one of them. I'm fairly confident that under the ADA you are entitled to reasonable accommodations but I'll have to do some research as far as the procedures for securing them. It should help that you have a current IEP, though, so that's a plus."

This is so not in her job description.

"I-I-I-I can ask the, um, p-p-prosecutor. I don't want you to—you don't need to-to go to the, um, the t-t-trouble."

"That's very thoughtful of you to say, Blaine, but I wouldn't have offered if I minded. Honestly, curling up with a hot mug of tea and my laptop to do some light internet research sounds like as good a way as any to spend my evening. Besides, now that you've brought it up I'm so curious I would probably look into it regardless."

She paused, looking thoughtful, and then opened one of the pockets in the large messenger bag she used to carry her materials from school to school on her travel days. "Ah-ha! Here it is. Blaine, this is a Release of Information form you can have your parents sign. Once that's done, I can communicate with the authorities to help coordinate everything and give him or her the information they need to get everything squared away. Only if you're comfortable with that, obviously."

Blaine glanced at the form before carefully tucking it into his binder. It looked long and decidedly bureaucratic. His father would read it at least twice before signing which was good enough for Blaine.

"Thank you. I think, um, I think that will help."

"You're very welcome. Now, what else can I do to support you during this process. Let's think about the different challenging speaking situations that are coming up so we can develop a plan for how to tackle them."

Blaine looked up at her, hazel eyes glinting under the buzz of fluorescent lights. He felt his breathing slow down and some of the tension in his shoulders ease. There was a solidness in her calm energy that soothed him. She was strong in a quiet way, like the foundation of a house. He felt a little bit braver knowing that she was on the team of people who had his back.

His face cracked into a grin. "That, um, um, would be-be great."

Blaine slid his letter across the table where the prosecutor sat. Her name was Billie and his father knew her through work, of course.

Despite his nerves, Blaine tried to configure his facial features into a friendly, nonthreatening smile while he silently waited for her to read the brief paragraph that explained the essentials of his stuttering. It had been Ms. Shine's idea to take some of the pressure of disclosure off of him during the various pre-trial meetings.

The letter simply explained that he stuttered, it had a few basic requests such as waiting patiently if he grew silent, and it informed her that he might resort to writing or need a break if he became severely disfluent.

He was filled with relief as it sunk in that he could start the conversation without having to worry about being interrupted or rushed.

"It's very nice to meet you, Blaine. I wanted us to have a chance to speak before the arraignment so I can answer any questions that you may have. I find that people are more comfortable working with me when we've gotten the chance to get to know each other a bit."

"Billie's very good and she has experience working on cases involving minors," his father added.

Blaine nodded.

"What are the, uh, uh, uh, the, well—how likely is it that I'll, you know, have to, um, t-t-testify on the wit-wit-witness stand? That's the —part I'm most nervous about." He blushed slightly at the confession. His father reached over to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly.

"Excellent question, Blaine. As you may know from your father's work, most criminal cases do not go to trial these days; it's the vast majority to be honest, around ninety percent. However, the odds are a bit higher in this case due to the fact that we're dealing with a repeat offender. Plus, the district attorney ran on a platform of cracking down on hate crimes so he may push for a trial so he can make an example of this…Mr. Holtz. A plea deal is still the most likely outcome…maybe 70-30 odds against having to testify."

That's not so bad. Maybe I can do the right thing and avoid the worst of it.

"Sign this," his father asserted, sliding an official looking document across the dinner table towards Blaine, who has currently inhaling a plate of lasagna. He had been too nervous to eat lunch before meeting with the prosecturo and now he was ravenous.

Blaine absentmindedly picked up the paper with his left hand, still shoveling cheesy noodles into his mouth with his right. I have so much homework to catch up on. It took a moment before he processed what he was holding. "Order of Protection." Huh?

"Dad is this a…a-a-a restraining order?"

"Obviously. You were being stalked; it's simply the logical next step."

Blaine stared at the page; somehow it didn't look real. He glanced from the paper to his father, who was quietly reading the paper as if he had just handed Blaine a summer-camp sign-up sheet and not a serious legal document that victims of crimes demanded through tears on cable television.

He signed the form in a daze; his mind whirring with half-formed thoughts. He handed the paper back to his father wordlessly and wandered out to the car.

My life is turning into an episode of Law and Order.

Meeting with the prosecutor had been alright but Blaine was still nervous about speaking with the detective. Blaine had been so exhausted from the whole ordeal the first time around that he hadn't had any energy left to get stressed by the interview. Also, there had been no anticipation time. The detective had just showed up in his hospital room and it was all over so quickly, like pulling off a band-aid.

Having the appointment looming over him for an entire week had been awful. Twice he almost begged his father to move it up just so it could be done with faster but he chickened out both times. Consequently, he had been so distracted that he was sure he had bombed his U.S. History midterm and he had snapped at Kurt for no reason during Wednesday afternoon coffee.

The morning of the interview, Blaine texted Kurt in a panic.

Blaine: What is the dress code for a police questioning?

Kurt: Black tie optional. Definitely.

Blaine erupted into a fit of laughter. When his eyes stopped watering from laughing so hard, he saw that Kurt had given him a serious answer as well.

Kurt: I think your regular school clothes would be appropriate but choose something in a dark tone or a neutral. Try that navy sweater or the black button up.

Blaine: You're the best!

Kurt: You know, sometimes I wonder if you're just using me for my fashion advice.

Blaine snorted as he read that one. He wondered how Kurt always seemed to know when he needed him to be sincere and when he just needed someone to make him laugh so he could get out of his own head. Killer boyfriend instincts?

Setting aside his phone, Blaine perused his closet in search of Kurt's recommended items. He just hoped they weren't in the wash.

"Blaine?" his mother's voice called out from downstairs. "Are you almost ready?"

Shit. Doubling his pace, he sorted through a few more hangers before finally spotting the black button-up shirt he was looking for. Victory! He pulled it on in such a mad dash that he did up the buttons wrong the first time and had to start over.

He took a few deep breaths before launching himself down the stairs.

"Walk please," his father scolded.

Agh, I'm running late but I'm not allowed to run. What do you people want?

"R-r-r-r-running late,—Dad!" he said in exasperation, his heart sinking at how terrible his speech sounded. That last block had felt like slamming into a brick wall. "Great! N-n-n-n-now I-I-I—now I c-c-c-c-c-c-can't even fucking —talk! St-st-st-stop rushing me!"

The frustration was hot under his skin and he suddenly felt a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Blaine Devon Anderson there is no reason for such language at the breakfast table." His father only used his full name when he was being scolded.

His mother's eyebrows furrowed in concern as she watched his outburst. "Sweetie-Pie, are you feeling alright?"

Blaine collapsed into his chair at the kitchen table and pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes, seeking some escape or relief. He counted his breaths until he was able to regain some sense of calm.

"I'm just… st-st-st-st- stressed about the-the inter-interview and-and all of this ru-ru-rushing is just making it worse and then—and then—and then now my sp-speech is acting up like-like cr-cr-cr-crazy and…" he trailed off, suddenly needing to catch his breath.

His parents exchanged a silent but meaningful glance.

I wish Kurt was going to be there. Of course, he had been too proud to ask because he wanted to be able to do this on his own. He didn't want to need Kurt, even if Kurt probably would agree in a heartbeat, even if Kurt wouldn't judge him. He would judge himself enough for the both of them.

Somehow having his parents there felt different. His father would have laughed him out of the room if he had asked him to sit out and anyways he wasn't even sure if he was allowed to do it without them.

I could still ask him. No, that's ridiculous he has school. I can see him right after; that will have to be enough.

Blaine managed to get down most of a slice of toast. He had no appetite and his mouth was so dry from the nerves that it tasted like sand going down.

Blaine had never been to a police station before and it was nothing like he had imagined. The precinct looked more like an office than anything else and the shabby conference room where they brought him for his interview looked nothing like the dimly lit interrogation rooms he saw on TV. There was even a window letting some sunshine in.

The detective offered him a bottle of water, which Blaine gratefully accepted. He sipped at it eagerly both to quench his thirst and to stall for time while he gathered himself. Shit, my letter! In his rush to leave on time that morning, Blaine had left the letter in his bookbag which was tucked neatly under his desk in his bedroom.

Detective Lyons offered him a faint smile as she adjusted her papers and opened up a manila folder. "First, we're going to review some basic information and then I'm going to ask you to tell me everything you remember. I might ask you some questions to help you think of any other details that might help our case. Another detective is interviewing Mr. Duval in another room so we'll put the information together and go from there."

"Name?"

"—" It wasn't the start he was hoping for. He gestured that he needed a minute. In two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

" B-B-B- Blaine Devon Anderson." Yes!

"Date of birth?"

" A-A- April t wenty- th ird…ni-ni-ninet-teen ninet-t-ty… th ree." Blaine let out a sigh of relief that his strategies were at least working, even he was relying more heavily than he was used to these days. He alternated between Easy Stuttering, Easy Onsets, and Pausing and Phrasing.

Still, this is only the easy stuff.

Blaine glanced up to see how the detective was reacting to his speech. To her credit, she seemed completely unaffected by it. She probably sees much weirder stuff that my stuttering ass . He ended up coughing in order to suppress the giggle that nearly escaped at that thought.

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson. Now let's turn to the day of the incident…"

Blaine described the events—the ones he remembered at least—in as much detail as he could, not wanting to overlook anything. The corner of Detective Lyons' mouth curled down ever so slightly when Blaine got to the parts that were missing. It was hard to talk about but he had at least been over it a few times between explaining what happened to the police the first time around to sharing it with Kurt back when they were just friends. His parents handed over copies of his medical records from the hospital stay which corroborated Blaine's account that he couldn't remember because he was concussed rather than because he was lying. Blaine had been taken aback when the detective brought that up but his father thanked her for being thorough and that was the end of it.

"Now, tell me about your other encounters with Mr. Holtz." He had to actually take a break at one point to get through it all. Detective Lyons opened up a small porch overlooking the alley so he could get some fresh air. But he made it through.

Blaine melted into Kurt's arms when he finally made it to the Hummel-Hudson house. The day had gone better than he'd expected, really, but he was thoroughly exhausted after speaking with the police detective. Feeling the warm weight of his boyfriend's arms wrapped around him was sweet relief.

"Long day?" Kurt asked.

"The longest. I think I only got through the-the-the-the last hour by pic-pic-picturing myself right here, with you." Blaine nuzzled his face into the crook of Kurt's shoulder and breathed in, comforted by the familiar smell.

"Aww, I'm very happy to see you too. It was kind of torture knowing you were going through that all day and having no idea how it was going. I had to stop myself from texting you approximately thirty times. Rachel may have confiscated my phone during lunch."

Blaine grinned, feeling quite foolish at how pleased he felt at that.

"Upstairs?" he asked, half pleading. All he wanted was to be curled up with Kurt somewhere warm where they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Alright," said Kurt, quirking an eyebrow playfully in response.

Does he think I meant…? Blaine blushed as he took Kurt's hand and followed him to Kurt's bedroom.

He eyed Kurt's bed wistfully. I just want to be in those soft sheets.

Blaine began to pull back the covers, ready to dive in when Kurt suddenly threw himself between Blaine and some divinely high thread count Egyptian cotton. Blaine pouted.

"Woah, hey now. You can't just get in there with your…your outside clothes on. This bed has rules, Blaine!"

He smirked. Of course Kurt's bed has rules.

Kurt's eyes grew wide when he realized that Blaine was undoing the buttons of his shirt. When he got to the button on his pants Kurt's jaw dropped.

"Blaine!" he hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Following the r-r-r-rules, of course," he replied cheekily. Then he turned serious for a moment. "Am I m-m-making you un-un-uncomfortable? I can st-stop I just—I'm so tired and all I want right now is to cuddle in bed with-with you. Clothes off is a-a-a huge bonus but by no means re-re-re-required."

"Oh! No…I, um, I guess I was just a little surprised. I'll, um, I guess I'll join you then." Kurt was turning a delicious shade of pink as Blaine pushed his jeans off of his hips and shimmied his legs out of them. Then he dived under the covers and let out delighted sigh. So soft.

He watched in sleepy amusement as Kurt shucked off his clothes, layer by layer, carefully folding each garment and setting them aside until he was left in just his underwear. Blaine was tired but he wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel a bubble of excitement at seeing Kurt without pants on. Without meaning to, Blaine let out an audible sigh and Kurt began to blush furiously.

Embarrassed, Kurt faced away from Blaine and then slipped under the covers, shivering as he scooted his body closer to Blaine's. Kurt's arms encircled him, gently pulling at him until his weight shifted and he was resting the side of his face on Kurt's chest. Warm hands gently brushed the skin of his back and his upper arm. Blaine experimentally hooked one of his legs over Kurt's and delighted in the brand new sensation of warm skin pressed up against him, of the tickle of Kurt's leg hair on his knee.

Blaine pressed his cheek into Kurt's chest and heard the thump thump of his heartbeat. The tension in his muscles ebbed away until Blaine felt like a pile of loose noodles; loose, very relaxed noodles. As he settled further into his calm state, his breathing slowed down, and then he noticed that the thump thump of Kurt's heart was slowing down too. The spaces between the beats got ever so slightly further apart and then Blaine noticed the muscles of Kurt's arms were loosening as well. Did he just get calm because I got calm? Is that a thing now? Blaine practiced his deep, slow breathing to test his new theory. Sure enough, Kurt's heartbeat and breathing slowed down a little bit more to match his.

It had been a long, stressful day but lying here wrapped up in the cocoon of his boyfriend's arms, Blaine felt utterly safe and at peace. Perfection.

The call came the next day.

"They arrested that degenerate," his father announced victoriously over dinner.

"Wonderful!" said his mother.

They both looked to him expectantly. I'm supposed to say something. What am I supposed to say?

"I…oh…that's, um, um, g-g-good to hear." Blaine forced a smile to pacify his parents.

He really had thought that he would feel happy or at least relieved to hear that Rick had been arrested but all he felt was wrung out and tired. Nothing was even close to being resolved. The arrest meant that all of the hard stuff would begin. Arraignments and pretrial hearings. Jury selection and testimony if it went to trial and plea deal negotiations if it didn't. Closer to fine. I'm just getting closer to fine and one day I'll be there and things will feel better.

It wasn't until three days later, when Blaine was fixing his hair in the mirror at his locker, that the full effects of Rick's arrest finally became clear.

His pocket buzzed and he glanced down to check his phone.

Nick: What do I have in common with a boomerang?

Blaine snorted. Nick was into riddles now, apparently.

Blaine: I don't know. What?

"I always come back!"

What? Nick?

Blaine turned on his heels, just barely keeping ahold of his phone. And there he was. Nick Duval, in the flesh, grinning from ear to ear.

"What are you…wh-wh-what?" he asked inelegantly.

"I've been begging my mom to let me transfer and now that Rick is finally behind bars, she finally agreed!"

Transferred. But that would mean…

"You go here?"

Nick nodded enthusiastically. Suddenly, the reality of the arrest hit Blaine like a solar flare. He grinned widely and pulled Nick into a tight hug. Embarrassingly, a few tears even pricked at his eyes. He just couldn't believe that he was finally reunited with his dear friend after Rick had quite literally ripped them apart.

"Nick?"

Blaine and Nick sprang apart. "Hey Kurt! Guess who has two thumbs and is the newest McKinley Wildcat?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it's you."

"Ding, ding, ding!" crowed Nick, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Blaine was beyond thrilled to have Nick at his school. It also served as a well-needed distraction from everything that was going on outside the doors of McKinley right now. Fortuitously, Nick had several of the same classes as Blaine including English Literature, Weight Lifting, and Chemistry.

With the addition of Nick to the class, one of the lab partner groups would have to expand to a trio. Blaine immediately raised his hand to volunteer and just like that he had two of his very favorite people with him. Kurt didn't look nearly as excited as he felt but then again, Kurt never really looked excited about Chemistry.

Nick sat with the "Switzerland" group during lunch; it took most of the lunch period just to get Nick caught up on why there was a Switzerland table to begin with.

"So when are we starting this GSA club, Blaine?" Nick asked.

"Huh?" Blaine asked in confusion with a mouth full of pizza.

"I believe I was promised that if I came to McKinley we would have enough students to start a GSA club."

Blaine gave him a blank stare.

"You really don't remember? Come on, man, you promised!" he whined dramatically.

"I, uh, maybe when all the—all the —trial stuff ssssettles down...it's just...I mean, we have a-a-a lot going on right now."

"I can look into the requirements to start a new club in the meantime," Kurt offered.

"Thanks, man! I suppose you're right, Blaine. Don't think I've forgotten about the other big thing coming up either: the big one seven. How do you want to celebrate this year? Movie marathon? Laser tag? Dance party in my basement?"

Blaine had nearly forgotten that his birthday was right around the corner. He had no idea what he wanted to do. It's my first birthday with Kurt! Are birthdays different when you have a boyfriend? Note to self: look into this later.

"I d-d-dunno but, uh, —Cooper's supposed to be here so, uh, I should check with him if there's anything that-that-that he wants to do."

"Why would you ask Cooper?" Kurt asked, sounding surprised. "It's your birthday; shouldn't you do what you want to do?"

Kurt doesn't understand. He's flying all this way special to see me and I hardly ever see him anymore. I don't want him to get bored at some lame babyish kid party. I need to make sure he has a good time.

"My —birthday should be-be-be fun for e-everyone, right?"

Kurt shrugged, looking unconvinced. "I guess."

Nick begged Blaine to help him prepare his audition for The New Directions. Kurt had frowned when Blaine wasn't able to come over but Blaine knew that he understood that helping Nick was important. Besides, he always hung out with Kurt and it had been so long since he could spend time with Nick regularly.

They settled down in Blaine's living room to pore over song possibilities. Blaine pulled out the list he and Kurt had brainstormed back when they were working on their duets assignment. That, of course, had him lost in a fog of nostalgia until Nick whacked him over the head with his rolled up notebook. "Trips down memory lane are for closers, Blaine! We need to find a song that fits my range and no offense to Kurt but these are so not my style."

Decidedly alert and back in the moment, Blaine set aside their old list and began to ask Nick questions.

"Well, is there a, uh, uh, st-st-st-statement you want to make? Or a ge-ge-genre?"

Nick sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. "You said that you have someone who plays the drums, right?"

Blaine nodded.

"Honestly, I'd love to sing some classic rock."

That sparked something for Blaine. Grinning, he presented Nick with his idea.

"I've a-a-a-always wanted to sing this, uh, uh, to perform this song but...I never seem to-to-to find the right time. You ha-ha-have to t-t-tell me if it's not right, though. This is yyyour audition; not mine."

"No, it's perfect, man. You're a genius!"

"Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Nicholas Duval, who we are very pleased to have auditioning to join Glee Club. Nick, I need to warn you that The New Directions is a well-oiled machine at this point and it is very late in the competition season to be adding a new member. However, we have always opened our doors to anyone who wants to audition. If you make it in, you're going to have to work hard if you want to travel with the team to New York, alright?"

Nick looked a little pale but he spoke with confidence when he introduced himself. "Hi, everyone, for those of you who didn't make it to my epic Halloween party, I'm Nick—like Mr. Shooser said—and I've been friends with Blaine since freshman year. I don't have much performing experience but I really love to sing and I'm, like, obsessed with karaoke. Oh, and I'm gay and hopefully we're going to start a GSA chapter so you should all join...if you want to." Realizing that he was rambling, Nick cleared his throat. "Anyways, Blaine's going to help me out with the vocals on this one and Finn has kindly agreed to accompany me on the drums."

Blaine jumped up to join him, flashing Nick an encouraging grin to calm his nerves. "You a-a-a-all know how I d-d-don't stutter when I sing? Well, —get ready for that to-to-to all change be-be-because this is my generation !"

People try to put us d-down (talkin' 'bout my generation)
Just because we get around (talkin' 'bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (talkin' 'bout my generation)
I hope I die before I get old (talkin' 'bout my generation)

This is my generation
This is my generation, baby

The song was pure, light-hearted fun and Blaine couldn't help but dance all over the choir room floor. He even grabbed Nick and twirled him a few times. He felt free and powerful singing this song. He had the passing thought that this was the most people he had stuttered on purpose in front of. Ms. Shine is going to love this

Why don't you all f-fade away (talkin' 'bout my generation)
Don't try to dig what we all s-s-s-say (talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm not trying to 'cause a big s-s-sensation (talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm just talkin' 'bout my g-g-g-generation (talkin' 'bout my generation)

My generation
This is my generation, baby

...and I'm going to make it a good one!


Thank Yous: My unending gratitude to my beta BlurglesmurfKlaine who always has *my* back!

Music Notes:
My Generation - The Who

I did try to research the history of the dysfluency present in this song but it seems like is no agreed upon story about how the song ended up this way. Here are the theories listed on Wikipedia:

1) the band was inspired by the song "Stuttering Blues"

2) someone suggested Robert Daltrey stutter to sound like he was high on speed

3) as a way to work in the misdirect with "why don't you all ffff...fade away"

4) Daltrey was nervous, hadn't rehearsed the song, and couldn't hear himself on the equipment during recording

An Accidental Theme: Co-regulation
After writing this chapter, I realized it had kind of an accidental theme which is a concept we've been talking about a lot recently at work called co-regulation. This is when things like your breathing and heart rate change to match those of another person. This is something parents and teachers use very intentionally with kids, especially those that are very young or for other reasons haven't fully mastered the ability to regulate their emotions independently (common among the teens I work with). It happens at the beginning when Ms. Shine's calm demeanor helps Blaine relax and then later when he notices Kurt's heart rate slowing down to match his own.

Coming Up Next: Blaine's Birthday Party.