Quinn's eyes narrowed as Sam checked his phone for what felt like the millionth time. Last she'd checked she was dating Sam, but for some reason, he seemed more interested in whether or not Kurt was actually going to show. Earlier that night was the second time she'd caught him talking to Kurt, and while she didn't have any problem with Kurt in the choir room, she had been working far too hard to rehabilitate her image to have that ruined by rumors if anyone outside of Glee Club caught the two of them in conversation.

With pursed lips, Quinn smoothed her skirt and apron. The waitress returned to give them all their bills, since even though Sam insisted Kurt would be joining them, and even though they'd bothered saving Kurt a seat, they'd managed to get all the way through their meals and then some and he still hadn't bothered showing up.

"Someone should text Kurt – let him know we're heading over to Brittany's," Sam commented as he slid out of the booth and stepped aside to let Quinn out, too. He smiled adoringly at her. She scowled slightly.

"Yes, of course, wouldn't want to forget about Kurt," she muttured. The blond boy's smile faltered. Rolling her eyes and turning away from Sam, Quinn lifted her chin high and marched straight to the restaurant entrance and out the door. It was only a few seconds before the door burst open behind her.

"Quinn, stop. What the heck was that about?" he demanded, clearly annoyed. She turned on the spot, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared.

"That," she practically spat, "was me being sick of you caring more about some – guy, than about paying attention to me."

He stared at her, a dumbstruck expression on his face. Then, quite suddenly, he took two steps forward and put his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off and stepped back, her eyes still narrowed in anger, but when she turned and stormed off, she headed straight for Sam's truck. She stood outside the passenger door, pointedly avoiding looking at him as he jogged after her, though she noticed the other glee kids had already exited the restaurant.

As soon as she heard the lock click, Quinn tugged open her door and climbed into the truck, then pulled the door closed with a slam. Sam looked at her and she stared forward, arms crossed over her chest.

It was a few moments before Sam finally spoke. "I'm not cheating on you with Kurt," he said, clearly annoyed.

Her head snapped to the left and her glare fixed on him. "I know that," she snapped. "But do you really think anyone at McKinley is going to believe me when I tell them that if they see you hanging around with him? You're not gay, Sam, but you might as well be as far as everyone at that school is concerned," she told him, jabbing her finger towards the windshield for emphasis, "if you keep on skipping down the hallways arm-in-arm with Kurt Hummel."

Her jaw clenched shut, her lips pursing again as she waited for Sam to acknowledge just how right she was. Instead, his mouth hung open, and for a second, she had to admit he really did look a little like trout. But then, Sam's brows furrowed, his mouth closed and he looked away from her. Staring pointedly ahead he turned the key in the ignition and started the truck. Quinn huffed and turned forward again in her seat. "Whatever, let's just go to Brittany's," she murmured angrily.

"Mama! I didn't sin! Please, Mama! Mama!"

Kurt flinched and jumped as the door slammed and the crazy mother locked her daughter in the closet with the creepy doll things. Burt watched him pop a few more popcorn kernels in his mouth, then cleared his throat and stepped into the living room. Kurt looked up. He chewed, swallowed, and smiled at Burt. "Hey, Dad. Popcorn?" he offered, holding out the bowl. Burt eyed it suspiciously.

"What's on it?" he asked. "Not that seaweed stuff is it?"

Kurt's shot him a deadpan look. "It's called spirolina, Dad, and you actually liked it last time before I told you what it was."

Burt wrinkled his nose and sighed, but entered the room anyway. He crossed in front of Kurt and sat beside him on the couch, then after a moment, held out a hand for the popcorn bowl. Kurt beamed and handed it to him. "Aren't you supposed to be out with your friends?" Burt asked as he grabbed a handful of popcorn out of the bowl. "Carol said Finn told her the whole glee club was going to dinner, and then a party.

Kurt's face fell and he was suddenly concentrating very hard on the movie screen. He popped some more kernels in his mouth to keep from having to answer right away, but knew he wouldn't be able to avoid the question forever. He simply shrugged, tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, and said, "Yeah, I wasn't really feeling up to it."

Burt munched away on the unsalted, unbuttered, spirolina-topped popcorn. He swallowed and reached for another handful of popcorn. "That so," he replied. "Anything in particular happen to make you feel…" He spun his hand as he searched for the word, "…not up to it?"

Kurt hesitated, and at that moment his phone chirped. Kurt picked it up and checked it, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, then unlocked the phone and typed out a quick message.

He turned to Burt as he set the phone back down on the armrest. "Seriously, Dad, it's nothing. I just want some time away from the drama, you know?"

Burt really didn't know, but he decided to let it go. He grunted quietly and nodded, then turned his attention to the television.

Blaine's heart thundered wildly in his chest. They'd been redoing the den, he knew that, they told him that, but no one bothered to tell him they were turning it into a bedroom for him. There was something so wrong about it.

It was too soon. Too fast. He'd only just left Columbus and all of a sudden this pair of men he didn't even know were showering him with everything he always wanted to be able to have before and never could. Everything about the bedroom, everything down to the striped blue wall-paper to the blue bedding set to the bookshelves and the desk…it was perfect, absolutely perfect, and Blaine couldn't have hated it more because of that.

Blaine crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His eyes narrowed. He couldn't believe the nerve. He hated the bedroom. Each sweep of his gaze felt like having his whole life rubbed in his face – because his is what he never had, and this is what he hadn't done anything even to earn. He hated every bit of this room, moreso even than the damn shrine to Princess Perfect he'd been sleeping in for the past week.

They simply had no right – these people had no damn right. But that was just it, wasn't it? They now had every right, because his mom had lost them all to them the day she up and died. And here they were – reminding Blaine of everything he'd always wanted, everything he couldn't have, everything that they could give them but his mother never could. And Blaine had never felt more embarrassed, angry, or guilty all at once.

Because as much as he wished he didn't, a rebellious part of him was actually happy about the room – the room he never would have had if his mother were still alive. And so as much as he hated the Berrys for giving him what he couldn't have had, he also hated himself for feeling happy over something that came about only thanks to his mother's death.

"So," Hiram began hopefully, "what do you think?" From where he stood behind Blaine he placed a hand on the teenager's shoulder, but he'd barely touched him when Blaine twisted away from him. Hiram and LeRoy looked at one another, then back at Blaine. Concern was written all over their faces, and Blaine's expression hardened, though he was sure he wasn't doing a very good job at all at hiding the distress he felt. He looked past them both, longing for a direct path to the door.

It seemed like the Berrys were searching for something, anything to say to him, but before they had the chance, a loud, sing-songy voice interrupted them. "Dads! I'm home!" Both the Berrys looked behind them, back at Blaine (who was staring pointedly at a spot on the wall), and locked eyes in a quick but silent conversation – one, Blaine figured, must have involved deciding to give him space.

As soon as they were out of his room, though, Blaine didn't intend to stay there a moment longer than necessary. He squeezed his pocket where he felt his phone and freshly carved key before walking straight out of the room and making a b-line for the front door. Hiram was hugging Rachel and LeRoy was shaking Finn's hand when he passed, his jaw and brows set in unwavering anger, and without looking back, without any mind paid to Hiram who called his name in surprise, Blaine yanked open the front door and walked right out of the house, pulling the door closed loudly behind him.

Rachel and Finn were long gone when Blaine finally made his way back up the Berrys walk. He placed his key in the keyhole and turned it, and upon opening the door, found Hiram and LeRoy in the living room, both with mugs in their hands, and LeRoy looking like he'd just stood up.

Two whole hours had passed, and after Blaine had run off most of his frustrations, he'd stumbled across an abandoned park. Certain he was the only one around at the late hour, Blaine had perched himself on a swing to think. He'd at least torn apart the greater majority of his thoughts, and knew if things with Hiram and LeRoy were going to work, there were a few things his "fathers" needed to understand, and understand well.

Blaine closed the door behind him, stepped across the entry way and stopped at the edge of the living room. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest and glared at the two men.

"I'm not for sale," he told them sharply. Both the men's eyes widened. "If you think you can buy me with clothes and a few bookshelves, you're wrong. I don't need you. Either of you. Or your money. My mom and I did just fine before you came along." His jaw trembled, his eyes burned with rage. It was too much. Just like every guy that waltzed in (and out) of his and his mother's lives, they'd started out by trying to win him over with presents. He'd let himself appreciate the clothes the Berrys bought him because, as much as he'd hated to admit it, he really did need new stuff that actually fit. He'd convinced himself it wasn't a big deal, that clothes were just necessities, that it would end there, but this – the room – the damn computer sitting on the desk – it was too much. And nothing that big came without strings, he was sure of it.

His eyes took in the shock, then hurt, then empathy he saw pass over the older men's faces, and for a moment he wavered, was almost ready to take it all back, but then he didn't.

Hiram and LeRoy exchanged a long glance before looking back at him. LeRoy lowered himself into the armchair and set his mug down. "Blaine," Hiram said gently. "If this is about the room…"

"We should have told you about it, shouldn't we?" asked LeRoy, sounding guilty.

"It was my idea…"

"But I went along with it…"

"Except that I talked him into it…"

"Because Hiram always loved a good surprise," LeRoy said, a twitch of a smile on his lips directed at his husband.

Hiram smiled sadly, then turned solemn again. "We're sorry, Blaine. You don't have to sleep in that room if you don't want to. We can redo it however you like…"

"Whenever you like," LeRoy injected, with a warning glance at Hiram. "There's no rush, bu…er, Blaine." He offered the boy a gentle smile. They both did.

And damn it if this wasn't leaving him even more confused than ever! With furrowed brows, Blaine ran his hand roughly through his hair, and rubbed the back of his neck. "No, it's – fine – just…You didn't have to do it in the first place," he insisted, though the anger in his tone deflated somewhat. God, he really wished that Beth was there. She always knew what to say, it seemed, and Blaine could have kicked himself for not having called her sooner.

LeRoy's smile widened. "We know that, Blaine. We did it because we wanted to – we wanted to do it for you. You don't have to do or say or give us anything in return, ok?"

Blaine didn't know what to say anymore. Now out of reasons to be angry at the Berrys, all he really had left was sadness, but anger was so much easier to deal with. His eyes strayed away from both men and after a short silence, Blaine finally nodded, though almost imperceptibly. He still wasn't convinced there weren't strings, but right now, he was at least a little closer to believing it.