Finn was feeling out of sorts. It wasn't that he didn't want this wedding to take place, but everything that had happened in Glee, and with Karofsky, had him thinking maybe he'd messed up. And the look on Kurt's face when he'd said it was his hill to climb alone had made him feel even worse. But it couldn't have been that bad. Maybe, if he talked to his mom – or talked to Burt – then they would know what to do.

He had basically decided that that's exactly what he was going to do when he walked into the house that afternoon after school. Instead of his mom cooking dinner, though, he'd found his entire kitchen taken over by taffeta and confetti and ribbons. "What…happened?" he asked breathlessly, taking in the sequin explosion and finally resting his gaze on the two teenage boys sitting at his kitchen table.

His eyes narrowed. "And what are you doing here."

Kurt's jaw tightened. Finn saw it out of the corner of his eye, but before he could say anything, Carole walked in and admonished him. "Finn! Don't be rude. Kurt and Blaine are putting together the wedding favors."

"Favors…what about dinner?"

"Don't worry about dinner, Finn, I'm ordering pizza. You like pizza, don't you Blaine?"

The curly haired boy smiled tightly and nodded. "Sure. Thanks," he said as his fingers worked to loop the ribbons through the handles of the bags.

He really didn't feel like pizza, but he wasn't going to be rude about it. Food was one of those things that, as a rule, he'd never turned down. Especially not when many times, there had been little to nothing in his kitchen at home.

Finn sat down at the kitchen table, dropping his backpack on the floor beside his chair.

"So – what? You two are friends now?"

Kurt looked up at Finn, eyes narrowed in a grim glare. "Yes, Finn. Believe it or not, I have friends outside of Glee Club."

Blaine couldn't help the smirk on his lips. "And don't worry," Kurt continued, a hint of hurt in his tone, "I've already fully disclosed the damage being in my presence at school might do to Blaine's reputation, if that's what you're concerned about."

"What? No, I…I wasn't." Finn felt disgruntled. He'd intended to try and be a better friend to Kurt and somehow, without even meaning to, he'd managed to offend him.

Finn looked over at Blaine, who was focusing very intently on the bow he was tying and carefully not looking either of them in the face.

Finn frowned, unsure what to do or say to make things better.

"Blaine, could you – excuse us?"

"No, Blaine, stay," Kurt insisted quickly. "You're my guest."

Blaine, for his part, was feeling increasingly more uncomfortable by the second. "Actually, I think I'm just going to…bathroom," he murmured and slipped out of the room. But before he was out of earshot, Finn began to apologize.

"Kurt, look, I'm really sorry, OK? I should have been there for you and – I wasn't. I'll be better."

Kurt stopped what he was doing and looked up at Finn. "Look, it's fine, Finn. It isn't your problem, OK, it's mine."

"No, if we're going to be brothers, then it's my responsibility. We need to stop it. We should tell my mom and your dad. Maybe if they…"

"No," Kurt hissed harshly. "Absolutely not, Finn. My dad is sick. He cannot take this stress. If you want to help me, you will keep it to yourself. OK? Just – drop it."

Finn frowned. He wanted to argue, but Kurt was scary – like, Rachel scary – when he got like this. And anyway, he couldn't say more once Carole reentered the room.

"OK, pizzas are on their way. I ordered one plain and one pepperoni and sausage," she said with a bright grin.

Kurt pasted a bright grin on his face. "Great," he said, with a little more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. Just then, Blaine returned, drying his clean hands on his jeans. "What's great?"

"Just the pizzas. They're on their way," Kurt answered with forced nonchalance as Blaine regained his seat.

"Yo tieno…"

"Tengo."

"Tango?"

"Tengo. It's 'yo tengo,' not, 'yo tieno,'" Blaine said patiently, though inside, he was so bored he could have screamed.

"Yo tengo tres sombreros. Tu tenges tres sombreros."

"Tienes."

"Wait, I thought you said it was teng, not tien?"

Blaine's phone buzzed and a message previewed on the screen. Good morning, hot stuff. -J

Blaine glanced down, momentarily distracted, and swiped the notification away.

"Well, it's the verb 'tener.' It's irregular. It doesn't follow the usual pattern. Yo tengo, tu tienes. El tiene. Nos tenemos," he prattled off. "Here, just…there's a chart." He reached across the table for his partner's book and flipped to the back. They'd been randomly assigned and though he preferred to work with Mike, who actually seemed to be relatively smart, at least he hadn't been paired with Finn.

"Here," Blaine said, once he'd managed to find the right page. "All the irregular verbs are here." The other teen's eyebrows raised in shock. Meanwhile, Blaine's phone went off again. It was another message.

I woke up thinking about your lips. -J

Blaine flushed red and quickly swiped the message away, then put the phone face down on the desk beneath his notebook.

"Sorry, um – where were we?"

The phone buzzed again. This time, he ignored it.

When the class finally ended, Blaine flipped his notebook closed, stacked it on top of his book and packed them both away in his bag. He finally picked up his phone and nearly tripped over his own two feet when he saw the message from Jeremiah.

Then I thought about putting my lips around your….

The message was cut off in the preview screen, but Blaine could guess where it was going. Quickly, he pocketed the phone and looked around to ensure no one was close enough to have read the message before ducking quickly out of the classroom.

He missed Finn watching him curiously from the back of the room.

"Will you come over after the wedding?" Jeremiah prodded from the other end of the phone line.

Blaine hesitated. "I - don't know if I can. It's sort of a family thing. I might not be able to get away," he lied.

"I see," Jeremiah responded. His voice had grown cold. "Just – tell me something, Blaine. Have I don't something to offend you? Because I've tried really hard to be nice and patient with you. Exactly how long am I going to be on probation?"

"What? Jer, no, you're not – it isn't like that," he insisted, frustrated.

"Well tell me, Blaine, how is it, exactly. Because I'm really into you and I thought you were into me but if we aren't going to see each other at least on a weekly basis, this isn't going to work. I took a shot on you, Blaine."

Blaine, frustrated, stamped his foot on the asphault. "No, Jeremiah, come on, please. Just – I'll make it up to you, OK? Just – let me make it up. Please."

Jeremiah went quiet, "Fine," he said. Then, voice softening, he said, "All right. But I'm serious, Blaine. You need to make an effort. I'm making an effort for you. I'm making a lot of sacrifices here. It isn't easy for me either."

Blaine found himself nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I know," he said miserably. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok, Blaine," he said, "but I need you to try harder. You need to show me you're as committed as I am. Can you do that?"

Blaine's stomach flipped uncomfortably. "Yeah," he said, shrugging, even though Jeremiah couldn't see it. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"All right. Fine. You can come by tomorrow. Make it up to me then."

"OK, I - I gotta go." Blaine watched as Hiram pulled up in the Prius.

"So Blaine," Cheryl asked in her usual comforting tone. "How was school this week?"

Blaine shrugged. "Fine," he responded vaguely.

She simply smiled and nodded. Her face betrayed no annoyance or frustration with his lack of meaningful response.

"I try and mention this to all my patients, but you should know that whatever you tell me in here stays between us. Nothing you say will ever be repeated to your dads...or to anyone. The only time I'm ever allowed to say anything about what goes on in our sessions is if you intend to physically hurt yourself or others. OK?"

Blaine didn't say anything, but he took in what she was saying. He nodded.

"OK," Cheryl said. "So. Last week we talked a little bit about your mom and how she made you feel. Did you take time this week to make a list of the ways she hurt you or made you angry?"

Blaine hesitated, but nodded. "Yeah, I made a list."

After a few beats of silence she asked, "And how did it feel, making that list."

He shrugged. Then, he said, a bit defensively, "Not good."

Cheryl nodded as if what he was saying made perfect sense. "OK. Tell me about that."

By the time his second therapy session was over, Blaine realized he'd told Cheryl far more than he'd ever intended - about how his mom kept taking on boyfriends when they were better off alone, how when she wasn't living with a boyfriend, she would sometimes take him with her to his grandfather's house, how he didn't like either the boyfriends or his grandfather. He told her about working under the table to buy groceries and turn the lights back on when his mom didn't have the money to pay the bills. He told her...how he and his mom used to sing together. How she would wake him up to help her make breakfast on mornings when it was just the two of them. How she always managed to flip the pancakes perfectly, even when she made them into strange shapes, like Mickey Mouse or a blob-like dinosaur. How no matter what, they always shared a cupcake on his birthday. At least, they had until he got older and grew out of that sort of thing.

Cheryl didn't have time to ask what he meant because, even as he said it, the clock on the wall reached the end-time for their session.

Cheryl uncrossed her legs and stood. "Well, Blaine, I think that was a very productive conversation. Do you agree?"

He wasn't sure if he agreed, but shrugged and then nodded.

"I think we'll just leave it there, OK? You're doing a really good job, Blaine. I know it might not feel like it sometimes, but you will survive this."