A/N: Deferred to the end…
D/C: You know the drill.
Blaine was actually feeling hungry after a long afternoon shopping with Hiram. LeRoy had spent Monday at work, "getting things organized" he'd said, since apparently he was taking the last three days of the week away from work. It was only Hiram and Blaine, then, that shopped for suits, and Hiram that took a long, pointless stroll through Sheets and Things, just pointing out and picking up random objects and asking Blaine's opinion, and Hiram that stopped without any warning at a luggage store with a wall full of Jansport bags like the one Blaine had at home (except without the safety pins). To Blaine's utter shock, Hiram had walked right into the store with a grin and the told the sales clerk with hands raised in surrender, "I'm just the man with the credit card. This guy needs a new backpack." And just like that, Blaine Anderson had found himself with no choice except to pick the bag he wanted, settling for a simple navy backpack that was one of the more inexpensive options. It made him feel just a little less guilty.
Now back at home – well, the Berrys' home – with a new black suit, four ties, and a backpack in tow (the brown suit still needed a few more alterations), he found that he was exhausted from the day and practically ravenous. It wasn't until the phone rang and LeRoy, who'd been in the middle of telling a story about his secretary's mug, got up to answer it, that it all came crashing back why exactly he'd had so little appetite to begin with. Blaine looked up from his plate the moment he heard LeRoy say "Oh hello, Rosalie, how are you?" His eyes flicked between LeRoy and Hiram when the two men shared a glance, and even Rachel was looking on with a strange look that bordered on curiosity. "Wait! Don't – I mean – don't tell me which of us – we'd rather not know, but just –"
With a pained look at the people at the table, LeRoy disappeared quickly around the corner. Blaine stared at the place where LeRoy had stood, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. A moment later LeRoy was back, the phone disconnected and a wide smile on his face. His breathing quickened, the breaths he took coming short and shallow.
Hiram was up like a shot. "Is he…?" LeRoy nodded excitedly and Hiram launched himself forward, capturing his husband in a tight hug. The men clung to each other and then Hiram drew back just enough to allow him to press his lips to LeRoy's. They shared a feverish kiss before LeRoy nestled his head on Hiram's shoulder, his eyes gleaming. Hiram kissed the top of his head tenderly. They were so happy, so unbelievably happy. Sure the last few days hadn't been easy, but there had never been a question for either man that the moment they heard they might have a son, they wanted their son to be with them, to live in their home, to grow up with two dads that loved him. There had never been any question, and for those first few blissful seconds they reveled in the relief they both felt knowing that no one could take Blaine away from them now. Paying extra to rush the paternity test had been worth it in both their minds.
There was nothing that could break them out of their happiness, nothing that could ruin the moment. Well, nothing except the sound of a chair hitting the floor and Rachel's surprised shriek. The men broke apart to see their son – their Blaine, disappearing from the room. They heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs and the sound of a door slamming. They looked on in stunned silence and glanced at one another, unsure what to say, if one of them should go after him, completely lost over what to do until Rachel reminded them – loudly – that she was still in the room.
From her seat at the table, the dark haired girl raised her hands in frustration and shrieked, "Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?" Because it seemed to her that everyone, even Blaine "Imposter" Anderson, knew what was going on but her.
He was hyperventilating. Blaine was hyperventilating and his lungs burned angrily as he paced erratically in the claustrophobic room. He tried to slow his breathing, tried to take deeper breaths because he knew that was the only thing that would keep him from passing out. He knew a panic attack when he had one. He knew the symptoms better than any sixteen-year-old should. Sinking to the floor, Blaine drew his knees up and curled into them, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. Consciously, silently, the teenager coached himself. Breathe in, breathe out. Come on, in – then out. In. Out. Each breath came slower and deeper and shakier than the first. He needed to slow down his heart, slow the adrenaline. He needed to calm himself. He was helpless like this – helpless when he panicked.
But Blaine knew what Rosalie's call meant. He knew based on LeRoy's smile and he could have sworn he heard Hiram whisper "ours". Ours. He didn't want to be "ours". "Ours" meant he had to stay. "Ours" meant he couldn't go back to Columbus. He was stuck with the Berrys and no one, not even his social worker could take him away from there. He felt trapped. And the shock to his system of not only understanding the meaning behind call, but the memory of what brought him there flooding back at the same time, was more than he could handle.
Rachel was quiet, the frown on her face, the furrow in her brow, and the fact that she didn't look at either of her dads made it clear to the Berry men that she was stewing. Clearly, she wasn't as happy about the confirmation as they'd hoped she'd be. Blaine was there to stay, and while to Hiram and LeRoy were relieved to know that they didn't have to worry about anyone taking Blaine away from them, Rachel felt more put out now than ever before. Blaine was staying, he was her fathers' son, and now the only thing that could make it all right was if that social worker called back to say the lab had made a mistake, and even irrational Rachel knew that wouldn't happen. In fact, she was willing to wager the social worker was glad to have Rachel's headcase brother off her hands.
Rachel only looked up at her fathers when, after having a silent conversation with his husband, LeRoy announced quietly "I'll go check on Blaine." Hiram pulled his chair closer to Rachel, and with sympathy clear in his eyes, he held his hand out for his daughter to take. For a second she looked at it, as if she was really considering whether or not to take it, but her face quickly softened. She sighed and slipped her hand into his.
Hiram smiled. "Come on, Rachela," he encouraged her gently, calling her by her Hebrew name. "What do you say to a little duet, huh? Just you and me, just like old times, Princess?" At the nickname, the corner of Rachel's mouth twitched and she felt a little flutter of something happy and familiar. She turned her large brown eyes on her dad, her beloved dad, who along with LeRoy had raised her, cared for her, taught her everything she knew about family, and Rachel smiled. Hiram gave his baby girl's hand a squeeze, certain that nothing had really been resolved, but somehow, they'd all pull through in the end.
LeRoy stood outside Blaine's door, his palm flat against the wall. He took a bracing breath. From downstairs he heard the music start, and for a second, his lips twitched into a smile. He strained to listen and could have sworn he heard the beginnings of "Just Give Me a Reason," his daughter's voice resonating clear and cool as she sang the opening bars of Pink's part of the duet. Before his partner began to sing the second verse, LeRoy turned his attention back to the door. Stealing himself for anger or rejection, LeRoy raised his fist and rapped his knuckles lightly on the door.
"Blaine?" he called gently. "Blaine it's LeRoy. Can I come in?" He listened. For a few seconds he heard nothing. He rapped again, louder this time. "Blaine?" Again, silence, but after a moment his straining ears picked up the hint of rustling, followed by light footsteps. He straightened up and waited patiently for the lock to turn and the door to open. He found himself face to face with Blaine, whose curls looked a bit wild, as if he'd just woken up. His face looked drawn, his eyes puffy, and LeRoy thought he could even see a greenish tint to his skin. He looked like death warmed up, but LeRoy fought the urge to react to Blaine's appearance. After all, he likely felt at least as bad as he looked. Instead, LeRoy attempted a smile and asked again if he could come in.
Blaine said nothing, but after a second, rolled his eyes away and stepped back, opening the door for his – for LeRoy. The older man entered and took a seat on the edge of the day bed. He folded his hands on his lap and waited but Blaine just crossed his arms defensively and remained stationed by the open door. If LeRoy didn't know any better, he'd have assumed the boy was making sure he had a convenient escape route. On second thought, do I know better? he wondered. He smiled encouragingly and moved over, closer to the foot of the bed to leave a lot more room for his son. "You can sit if you like," he said, gesturing with his hand. Blaine seemed to contemplate this for a long beat before shrugging and moving towards the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed near his pillow, which was about as far away from LeRoy as he could be without standing up again.
LeRoy took a slow breath. This was going to be harder than he thought.
"Blaine," he began gently. He adjusted himself to angle his body towards the boy, while being careful not to shorten the gap between them. "I know that this is – less than ideal." The teenager arched an eyebrow at that. "I wish that we could have met under different circumstances. I wish that things hadn't turned out the way they did. I don't know if I've had a chance to really say it, Blaine, but I am so, so sorry about your mother." LeRoy's expression turned pained and he leaned forward the slightest bit, laying a hand on the unoccupied bit of bed between them. Blaine, whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn't that, and before he could really stop himself, his chin began to quiver and a lump rose in his throat. He dropped his gaze immediately, avoiding LeRoy's eyes.
LeRoy wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to draw him into a tight hug and never let him go. He wanted to take the pain away. The fact that he knew he couldn't didn't make it any easier to watch. "Hiram and I – we just want a chance to get to know you, Blaine. We just want to give you all the things we never –"
"Why?"
LeRoy started, drawing his hand back when the boy suddenly raised angry eyes to his and cut him off.
"Why now? You had sixteen fucking years and never gave a damn before."
LeRoy's brows furrowed. "That's not true, Blaine. I thought the social worker explained it all."
Blaine just scoffed, and LeRoy's concerned expression took on an element of pity. "Oh, baby," he soothed, "that's –"
But LeRoy didn't get to finish, he tensed at the pet name and stood quickly. "I'm not your baby," he bit out before turning and walking out of the room. LeRoy flinched at the slamming bathroom door at the end of the hall, and it was only then he realized the house was silent again, the music having stopped. He wondered how much his husband and daughter had heard, and after massaging his temples with his fingertips he stood, cursed himself silently for letting the pet name slip, and headed for the stairs to join the singers in the drawing room. Maybe Hiram would have better luck.
A/N: Welp! It's official. Blaine's staying with the Berrys and Rosalie's case is officially closed. I think this chapter is one of my favorites because we see some really heartfelt exchanges, and I, like Hiram, know nothing's really resolved, but somehow, I'm fairly sure they'll all be ok in the end. :) R&R, please! And keep your eyes peeled for turning points ahead. ;)