A/N: Here it is! Thank you for all the the feedback and alerts, it really helps when I'm stuck with the writing to go back and read them. And joy, this story will indeed be continued! I really like this chapter :)
Blaine slept until around three in the afternoon, and upon waking, he felt like a new man. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, hopping up and trekking to the kitchen, where he pulled out an apple and sat down at the table. He blew air out of his mouth and looked around the empty kitchen- the empty house. He took a bit out of the apple and munched mindlessly while tapping his knee to an unknown rythym.
Sometimes he wished his parents were around more often. Sometimes, he wished they cared a little more. Don't get him wrong, Blaine knew very well that his parents loved him- they'd made sure he always knew that if nothing else. But no number of 'I love you's could compensate for the fact that they were never around- always at a business meeting or away at a conference, even just out together. But never with him.
Blaine was startled when he saw a wet spot appear on the napkin he'd set down in front of him. He was...crying?
"Shit," he muttered, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He did not cry. Especially about his parents. He'd dealt with it his whole life; he was used to being alone. And anyway, if they weren't going to love him like a parent should, he wouldn't waste the energy trying to pretend they did, or lament over the fact that they didn't, for that matter.
He stood abruptly from the table and returned to his bedroom, pulling on a simple jeans-and-t-shirt getup, topping it off with a unbuttoned dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
He couldn't waste time sulking over lost causes.
He had a lady to court.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"So let's be clear, honey, we're going to be gone until tomorrow night, okay? And you are to clean up this atrocious mess before we return, yes?"
Rachel sighed glumly, "Yes, Daddy."
The man smiled and tapped Rachel's nose, "That's my girl." He glanced at his watch, "Well, we better get going if we're going to bypass rush hour traffic. Be safe and no parties." He warned, only half serious.
Rachel giggled as he pulled her into a hug, "I make no promises."
She stodd in the driveway and waved profusely until her fathers' car turned the corner, then her smile dropped and she trudged inside.
At least one person could have stayed to help up instead of leaving it all to me, she thought bitterly. They claimed to be a family, but none of them really cared for her, she knew.
I'm a vehicle to Nationals, nothing else, she mused, like a car. No, like a rocket- I am headed for stardom, after all.
She grabbed a trash bag and began slowly picking up the bottles, cups, wrappers, and was that toilet paper? She shook her head. Slow and steady, she could get this all done.
Her silent cleanup was disturbed by a knock on the door.
Rachel brightened, someone came to help? She hurried to the door, grabbing a little step-stool sitting by the door and using it to see through the peep hole, only to see, in all his curly glory, Blaine Anderson. Oh my.
She didn't know what to think about this boy. He was gay, sure, but just...the way he looked at her this morning, it was...intense. She wasn't sure what other kind of emotions or feelings beside pure want could warrant the expressions he'd made. It left her more confused and slightly irritated than the time she'd tried to watch Lost.
Nevertheless, she slapped on her showface and opened the door, "Greetings, Blaine!"
She watched the boy smile at her perkiness and maybe she melted a little.
"Hey, Rachel," he glanced past her into the house, "Whatcha up to?"
She wrinkled her nose, "Cleaning up. You wouldn't believe the mess that was made here." She rolled her eyes.
Blaine chuckled, "Those animals!" He said, eliciting a laugh from the girl.
"Well, not that I'm not happy to see you, but is there something you needed? Did-did you forget something?"
Blaine quirked an eyebrow, "No," he drew out the vowel, "I just came to see you."
Rachel couldn't have looked more surprised, "What? Why?" She asked bluntly.
He was caught off guard; why did she look so suspicious? "Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to spend time with you? I mean, I know we haven't ever really talked but I just, I want to know you." He admitted.
Rachel studied him; he looked earnest enough. The tension fell out her shoulders, "Sorry. It's just that no one ever really taken time out of their day to spend time with me. I'm not used to it; I didn't mean to be rude."
Blaine stepped forward, holding his arms out for a hug, which Rachel readily accepted. "Well," he whispered into her hair, "I'd be absolutely honored if you would spend the rest of the day with me."
Rachel sighed into his chest. This was not happening- she could not be crushing on a gay guy. That's just begging to get hurt. She pulled away, and smiled up at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. Blaine seemed to sense her melancholia. She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him inside, but he held back.
"Actually, I forgot, my Mom is sick and I need to pick up her medicine from the pharmacy. Is it okay if I come back in, say, an hour? We can tackle this mess together." He smiled.
Rachel drooped again, afraid he had changed his mind about spending time with her.
Blaine saw this and quickly remedied it, "Hey, I promise I'll be back soon. I don't want you to lift a finger until I'm here to help you."
She smiled gently, "Okay," she agreed, releasing her grip on his hand.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Blaine straightened out his shirt and raised his hand, knocking firmly on the door.
A few seconds passed before the door opened a crack and a hazel eye peeked out at him. He smiled sheepishly and waved a little.
"Aren't you that Warbler dude?" The blond queried as she opened the door fully with a raised eyebrow.
Blaine rubbed the back of his neck; this chick could be scary. "Uh, yeah..."
The girl put her hand on her hip and stared at him, silently asking him why the hell he was there. Blaine considered diving into the bushes a few feet away to escape her gaze, but he reminded himself that this was for Rachel.
He started again, "Well, I'm here to ask for your help."
"I'm listening."
"U-uh," he stammered, not sure how to pose the question he wanted to ask, "It's about Rachel."
She raised her other eyebrow, "Oh?" Blaine nodded. They were silent.
"What makes you think I'd want to do anything for Berry? As far as you are concerned, I hate her."
"No, you don't, " Blaine spoke softly, trying to coax her into the truth.
"The hell I do! How would you know anything anyway?" She bit. Blaine faltered, "Oh, that's right, you don't." Did she just growl? Blaine mentally shuddered and mustered all the calm and confidence he had; he could potentially be punched in the face in a few seconds.
"The simple fact that you haven't slammed the door in my face tells me that, A) you do care about Rachel on some level and B), you're not a bitch, Quinn, no matter how hard you try to project that image to me."
He watched as, just like that, the cheerleader seemed to retract her claws. It appeared he had known more than she thought, after all.
She leaned against the door frame, crossed her arms and sighed exasperatedly - her way of admitting defeat without wounding her pride, "Okay, what the hell do you want me to do, anyway?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Rachel blew a stray hair out of her face and turned the page in her book. She anxiously glanced at the digital clock by her bedside. It had been an hour and fifteen minutes, where in the world was Bl-
Ding dong!
She smiled and jumped up, setting the book down (She hadn't really been reading it, anyway.) and hurrying down the stairs. She felt like one of those ninjas in the movies that have to step through laser-alarm systems as she nimbly hopped over the trash and debris downstairs. As she approached the door, she reigned in her excitement; she didn't want to seem, you know, over excited or anything. Because she wasn't.
Rachel opened the door, "Hey-" she stopped and her jaw slacked, dumbfounded at the sight before her.
The entire glee club was standing on (and around) her doorstep, all equipped with trash bags, cleaning supplies, gloves, and the works, complete with face-splitting grins that were tinted with apologies.
Quinn spoke first, "Hi...Rachel."
Rachel was still gaping, and nodded wordlessly in acknowledgement.
"We're all here to help you clean up." Finn piped in, and Rachel supressed an eye roll.
Santana did roll her eyes, shooting Finn a look of disdain, "No shit, Sherlock."
Finn looked angry but said nothing.
"Anyway, it was Blaine here's idea," Quinn continued, jerking her thumb at the boy who was fronting the pack, smiling eagerly at Rachel.
"Yeah, and we're all sorry for up and leaving all the clean up to you," Mercedes stated sincerely.
"We were real assholes." That was Sam, followed by a general murmur of agreement from the rest of them.
Rachel finally cracked a blinding smile, a lone tear sliding down her cheek.
"Hey now, don't cry. Just show us where the mess is," Puck soothed. Rachel couldn't believe this; they were all here on a Sunday to help her clean her filthy house, albeit, it was their mess, but still.
She dried her tear and opened the door wider, letting them all file in.
"Good god," Artie breathed as his eyes went wide.
There was a similar reaction from each of the club members before Quinn spoke up, "Well, we've got our work cut out for us, don't we guys?"
Santana clapped her hands together, "We need some music, 'cause I don't know about you guys, but I cannot work with quiet."
"Good call," Puck said, turning to Rachel, "You got a dock?"
Rachel nodded, "In my room, you can bring it down here and plug it in." She craned her neck and called up the stairs, "And no rifling through my unmentionables, Noah!"
They heard a faint "Damn" from the staircase and chuckled.
Puck returned and set up the dock. He stuck his hand out behind him, "iPod," he grunted, and was handed one by Sam. He plugged it in and soon the opening of Justin Bieber's 'Never Say Never' filled the room.
They all turned to look at Sam, then burst out laughing. Sam flushed, "Shut up! It's good workout music, okay? For when I'm, " he coughed, "pumping iron." He broadened his shoulders, trying to salvage his dignity.
Kurt patted him on the back, "Uh huh."
Puck pressed next.
"Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world,"
He looked over his shoulders with a smirk, "Hell yeah. Let's get to work, bitches."
Everyone laughed and started to clean up, all of them singing along to the song that started this all.
Rachel pulled Blaine aside, "You did this," she said shyly.
Blaine shook his head, "No, it was just my idea; they could've all shut the door on me. They care about you, Rachel, they just suck at showing it."
Rachel laughed, "I guess you're right."
Blaine fiddled with the hem of his shirt, "So...you're happy, then?" He asked nervously.
Rachel glanced into the living room where the glee club was belting out Don't Stop Believing and making post-party cleanup look like the funnest thing in the world.
She turned back to Blaine, grinning from ear to ear, "You have no idea." She grabbed his hand and skipped back into the fray, "It goes on and on and on and on," she added her voice to the mix, doing her and Finn's trademark spin with all of the glee clubbers in turn, overcome by the love and cameraderie radiating through the room.
"Don't Stop!"