A/N: Thank you to all the commenters for your kind words. I am so glad to know you are enjoying the story and hoping for more. And thank you especially to those of you who have been so wonderfully patient with me as I sort out work and other obligations. I hope you enjoy this installment.

"Hola classe! Hoy, vamos trabajar en grupos," announced 'the Shoe,' as Blaine came to think of him. All talk and no 'sole.' Blaine snorted quietly to himself. Shoe had a huge grin on his face and looked around at the class expectantly. "Guys – that means pair up!"

Blaine rolled his eyes as a few others snickered. Shoe just kept grinning stupidly, as if he has no idea he was making a fool of himself. Around him, though, chairs scraped and people started adjusting themselves. Cautiously, nonchalantly, and with the most convincing uncaring air that he could muster, Blaine looked around at the rest of the class. He was just about decided that he would be the odd man out when he heard Shoe say, "Mike! Why don't you work with Blaine."

Blaine's head snapped around to look at Shoe, then back at the Asian kid, who'd just fistbumped a jock before heading over to drop in the seat beside his. Mike's bag landed on the desk and he started unzipping it. "Hey, I'm Mike," he said, flashing a quick, crooked smile.

Blaine took a second to compose himself, cleared his throat and introduced himself, too. "Blaine," he responded simply.

"I know," Mike said lightly, after Blaine said his name. "You gave my friend, Puck, a nasty shiner last week."

Blaine felt his heartbeat quicken, his eyes darted over to the back of the room where "Puck" was sitting beside Finn. Neither was looking his way, but his whole body tensed anyway. He turned narrowed eyes on the teen beside him.

"Yeah? So? The asshole deserved it," Blaine spat under his breath.

If Mike wanted a fight, Blaine would give it to him. He braced himself for a come-back, or some sort of threat. But instead, Mike just laughed as he finished removing his pencils and paper from his bag. "Yeah," said Mike, "he usually does."

Mike zipped up the backpack and tucked it under his chair. "Sorry he was such a dick to you. But don't take it personally. He really is like that with everyone."

Blaine watched his partner uneasily. "Then why are you apologizing for him?"

Mike's smile faded a bit and he squirmed. "I guess because I'm his friend. I mean – someone has to be." He paused, then shrugged. His eyes avoided Blaine's. "And, because we have to work together and all. I just don't want you to think – I mean, I wouldn't have joined them, you know. They didn't ask me to, but I wouldn't have. I mean, I told them not to, so…"

Mike's face was growing red. Blaine's brows arched. He'd known. Mike had known about the slushies.

At the front of the class, Shoe was writing something on the board – the topic of their group project. Mike bowed his head and wrote his name, Blaine's name, and the class subject on the piece of paper in front of him. "S-so, we should get working," he said, and Blaine, whose head was fluttering with all sorts of confusion and questions, decided Mike was right. Blaine nodded mutely.

Kurt fully intended to corner Rachel at school about Blaine, but between Finn making him late, Mike insisting on lunch-time practice for that afternoon's performance, and Rachel straight-up avoiding him, things did not work out at all like he'd planned. Instead, the first opportunity he had to ask about Blaine was when he arrived in study hall, 2 full minutes late, his forehead glistening with sweat. Grimacing, he signed in at the front desk. The librarian gave him a stern look and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Kurt forced a weak, but grateful smile before turning and heading straight for his table. As expected, Blaine was there.

Kurt pulled out a chair and dropped into a seat opposite Blaine, who looked up and smiled at him. "Hey," Kurt greeted Blaine, "nice haircut!" It was, of course, the first thing Kurt noticed, and Blaine's hand immediately moved to the top of his head to touch the aforementioned haircut.

"Hey. Yeah, thanks." Then, his forehead creased. "You ok? You're kind of…sweaty."

Kurt's eyes widened and his face flushed with heat. From his bag, he quickly fished out an oil-wipe and dabbed hastily at his glistening forehead. "Hey, yeah," he responded, breathing heavily. "I just – I was just – dance practice."

"Oh – like, lessons? Or –"

"No, no – for Glee Club. We – the boys, I mean – we have this performance today, and…and I was busy this weekend, so I had to learn the routine over lunch."

"Your performance is today?" Blaine straightened. He sounded surprised. "Wow – talk about last minute."

Kurt snorted. "This is nothing. Last year, we had to change our Regional competition performance minutes before taking the stage – now that is last minute." He wagged a pencil at Blaine to make the point. Blaine chuckled. If Kurt was honest, was pretty much the norm, as much as he hated it.

"So how was the rest of your weekend," Kurt asked, changing the subject.

Blaine wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "Fine. Boring. And LeRoy and Hiram made sure I knew how lucky I was they even let me go out to get my hair cut." He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, being grounded sucks."

Now that, Kurt could relate to. "Definitely." But of course, the one thing Kurt really wanted to know kept niggling at the back of his mind, and even as he watched Blaine return to his homework, he couldn't fully suppress the need to ask. "So, Blaine," he started cautiously. Blaine looked up expectantly. "What brought you to Lima, anyway?"

The question was a nonchalant one. At least, Kurt hoped it was. But something in Blaine's face darkened. "What do you mean, what brought me here? LeRoy and Hiram's car did," he said. His tone took on a tint of sarcasm. Kurt, though, was undeterred by the whitewashed hostility.

"No," he responded gently. "I mean, why did you leave – Columbus, was it?"

Now, there was no denying it, Blaine's face had lost any friendly openness, his expression lost its warmth. "The Berrys are my biological dads. Or – one of them is. I didn't exactly have a choice, Kurt."

Kurt's brows furrowed. "But, what about your mom?" he asked cautiously.

Blaine's eyes grew hard. Kurt felt a chill rise up his spine. "What about minding your business?"

Kurt's eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought about grabbing his stuff and running right back out of the library. There was something severely unsettling about this side of Blaine, but Kurt swallowed his fear and straightened in his chair. He opened his mouth to respond, but Blaine, who seemed to wince at his own words, beat Kurt to the punch. "Sorry," murmured Blaine, "I didn't – you don't deserve that. I just. It's just. My mom, she's…" He shook his head, and leaned forward, his eyes shifting between Kurt's eyes and the table. "She made her choice. And now she's… sh-she's dead. So now I'm here. And I can't change any of it, so I just have to deal, ok? And I just don't want to talk about it, ok? So leave it alone. Please." He concluded with a huff, and Kurt just stared, slack-jawed.

"I'm so sorry," said Kurt so quietly Blaine almost didn't hear him. Blaine's brows furrowed and he almost protested, except Kurt added. "Mine is too. She died when I was 7. I don't like talking about it either, so, I get it. Don't worry about it."

Now, it was Blaine's turn to stare. How? How had they not realized sooner? Kurt blamed it on Rachel. If the boys hadn't been having so much fun making fun of her that weekend, they might have figured it out sooner. At least Kurt knew what it was he and Blaine had in common. He could stop worrying about whether Blaine was gay, which should have been a relief. But actually, it sort of bummed him out – and not just because Blaine's mom was dead. "We should study," he commented finally, and Blaine agreed with a nod and a weak smile. Kurt though, felt more confused now than ever.

Coach was happy, the girls had forgiven the guys, Finn's grounding was over, and everything seemed to be getting back to normal finally. It was Saturday, the Glee Club had celebrated the end of Girls v. Boys week with a pizza party, and though Finn was pretty sure they should be rehearsing rather than eating, he really, really liked pizza. Now, it was Saturday, and Finn was getting to spend the whole day hanging out with Rachel at her house. Rachel's dads were gone for the weekend, and Blaine was out of the house for the day, too, which meant that he and Rachel were making out on the couch and it was nice – really really nice.

It would have been nicer if the doorbell wasn't ringing. Finn, who had his long arms and legs entangled with Rachel's, pulled his lips away from hers with a groan.

Rachel groaned, too. "I bet it's Blaine. I bet he forgot his key or something."

Finn frowned. "So let him wait," he said coolly, then leaned into claim another kiss. Rachel gave it to him and closed her eyes. They started getting into it again when the bell rang again, more insistently this time. Rachel dislodged herself with a growl, then worked her limbs out of their tangle.

Finn barely had a chance to protest before his girlfriend slipped out from underneath him and stomped over to the front door to open it. Finn turned and flopped into the cushions with a huff, his eyes closed as he imagined himself in the car, his mom beside him, a flash of blue, the honk of a horn, a scream, and –

His eyes snapped open. Yeah, that did the trick. He stood up and padded over to the door where Rachel was holding it partially open. He came up behind her and peaked through the door opening to see a shiny badge at face-height. The person at the door turned attention on Finn. "Are you Blaine Anderson?" asked the person in a no-nonsense tone.

"What? Who? Me? No. No, I'm – I'm Finn," responded Finn.

Rachel said nothing.

There were two people standing at the door, Finn realized. A tall man that had flashed the badge, and another, shorter woman who was standing a few feet behind him.

"Well, Finn," said the man-cop gently as he tucked the badge back into his pocket. "We're looking for Blaine Anderson. I understand he lives here. Is Blaine home?"

Finn looked down at Rachel, then seeing no clue from her, he shook his head. "He's not here. Is – I mean – what'd he do?"

The officers exchanged a glance, and man-cop said, "Nothing, as far as we know. We just want to ask him a few questions. That's all. Do you know where I can find him?"

Finn's brows furrowed. He thought hard. He couldn't remember ever knowing what Blaine was up to. He couldn't remember even asking, and why should he have? He was there for Rachel, not for Blaine. He quickly snapped out of it, though, when he heard the word 'Hummel'.

"…Hummel Tire & Lube," Rachel was saying. "I don't know if he's there or not."

The officer's thanked her, and handed her a card, then turned to walk away. "Wait," said Finn to Rachel as she closed the door on the officers. "What do you mean he might be at Burt's place. Why would he be at Burt's place?

Rachel scowled. "Ask my dads," she shot back venomously. "They're the ones who came up with the stupid idea in the first place." Finn was confused. What idea? And what did that have to do with Burt's shop and Blaine being there on a Saturday? He watched as Rachel stamped back to the couch and flopped herself down, folding her arms. After a few moments of standing, unmoving and totally confused, Rachel shot a glare at him and demanded shortly, "Well? What are you waiting for? We're supposed to making out!"

The reminder, it seemed, was all Finn needed. He grinned, because yeah, they were supposed to be making out! And he really really liked doing that. And so he promptly forgot about the confusing officers and joined his girlfriend on the couch.