Blaine was back on top of the world. He thought that, although his and Kurt's dispute last maybe four hours, that they'd both learnt from the experience and that their relationship was stronger than ever. Trent had easily picked up on the change of atmosphere in home room when he'd walked in and a smile, nod and wink from Blaine was all he'd needed to know that the problem was solved.
At home, Blaine dumped his bag in the hall, forgot his homework and sprawled out on the sofa. It was a moment before he realised he wasn't – as he had assumed – alone in the house. He turned his head as his father entered the room and stiffly took the armchair opposite, before quickly tidying up his own posture. "Hey, Dad," Blaine said pleasantly. "You're home early."
"The boiler exploded," Mr Anderson explained gruffly. "We all got the afternoon off."
"Oh." Blaine wasn't sure what else to say, so they fell into an uncomfortable silence.
"How are your friends doing?" Mr Anderson asked casually. "Did they enjoy their holidays?"
"Yeah," Blaine nodded, grateful that the conversation had moved on. "Trent's sister and husband same to stay from Iowa; he saw his niece again, and apparently she's grown about a foot." He swallowed and took a breath, before carrying on: "Kurt single-handedly prepared all of the food and decorations for his whole family, I'm led to believe – and I do, if Kurt's track record is anything to go by – "
"Kurt?" Blaine saw his father's nostrils flare and paused. "Kurt, that you were talking to me about?"
Internally cursing himself for even mentioning Kurt to his father in the first place, Blaine nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, his throat dry.
"Did you not take my advice?" Mr Anderson said coldly. To Blaine, 'advice' was the wrong word.
Blaine shook his head. "I didn't stop being friends with Kurt, Dad, no." He forced himself to look his father in the face. "He didn't do anything wrong, and he's one of my best – "
"Didn't do anything wrong?" Mr Anderson repeated incredulously. "He's going around kissing – " He lowered his voice suddenly, but the fury behind his eyes spoke in greater volumes than ever. "He's not a good influence," he finished forcefully.
Blaine almost laughed out loud in disbelief. Was this his father's opinion of Kurt? No. It was his father's opinion of him. "Yes, he is," Blaine argued. "He works harder than anyone else I know, he's incredibly talented, he's brave, and clever, and passionate and – " He tried to swallow his next word when he realised that it was "perfect". In the end, it came out as a sort of hum. He tried to make it sound deliberate. "And none of that's changed," he added, to distract from his stumble, "because he kissed another boy."
"You are too young to understand this kind of thing!" Mr Anderson bellowed. "Yes, okay, fine, maybe in high school, 'experimenting' is deemed acceptable. Maybe it's even encouraged, I don't know. But out there – " he pointed at the window, as if some great homophobic monster hovered just outside " – out there, people like – like that – are not taken seriously, much less are treated as equals!"
There was a pause.
Blaine frowned. "Is that really what you believe?" he asked quietly.
"I'm going to go have a drink," Mr Anderson snapped, standing up.
"Dad!" Blaine leapt into the doorway. "The world's changed; gay people aren't – we're not treated like that anymore. I mean, gay marriage is sort of in the works, people are more accepting of us!" He threw his arms wide to help make his point. "And I am so grateful for that. So you've not got anything to worry about."
It took a moment for Blaine to realise he'd overstepped. His father approached him as a lion stalks its prey. "We?" he echoed. "Us?" He grimaced.
Blaine took a breath, trying to work out the best way to get out of the conversation unscathed. But he never thought of one: all of a sudden, a fist came shooting towards him, catching him on the jaw and sending him sprawling in surprise. After the moment it took him to come to his senses, he heard a muttered "no son of mine" and slam of the front door.
Tears pricked at Blaine's eyes and he let them fall, choking out a sob. He pulled himself to his feet and massaged the side of his face, sniffing miserably. He would never figure his father out, and his father would never accept him.