Vectors and Scalars

The coming days at school merged into a blur of classes and assignments, Mr Schue's odd choices of themes for Glee and, of course, Blaine.

Kurt had yet to tell any of his friends or family about his budding relationship with the TV star, partially because he really didn't think that any of them would know what to do with the information.

OK, he lied. He had a very good idea of what they would do with the information, and that was kind of what he wanted to avoid. Dealing with Rachel's, Mercedes' and Santana's reactions alone would be enough to make his stomach turn, let alone his father's reaction to the news.

Kurt knew enough about his dad to realise that Burt Hummel was not Blaine Anderson's biggest fan. That may or may not have anything to do with the fact that Blaine had put his son in the hospital.

Still, Kurt found himself not really minding the clandestine nature of his relationship with Blaine. There was some sort of almost tangible exhilaration about the subterfuge – something tense and exciting about meeting Blaine in deserted parts of town, or saving Blaine's number on his phone under an alias, or stealing kisses from him away from prying eyes.

As Kurt brushed his teeth on Friday morning, his phone buzzed with a text.

You watch Rational Fear, right?

Kurt raised his eyebrows and spat the toothpaste down the sink. He texted back as soon as both of his hands were free.

Is this some kind of test?

The reply came almost immediately.

Test?

Like, if you were on the football team, I'd have to go to all your matches to show support.

No test. Just curious. :)

Well, then, I guess it doesn't really matter then, right?

Kuuuuuuuuuuuurt.

Kurt was suddenly glad he had his own bathroom. It would be extremely weird if someone else walked in and saw him grinning at the bathroom mirror like a loon.

Yes, Blaine?

Answer the question. Please?

What's in it for me?

A happy boyfriend?

Hmm… Tempting, but no.

Fine, how does dinner tomorrow night sound?

Better. Keep going.

Dinner and a movie?

Who's paying?

I'll take dinner, you can fork out for the movie?

I'm in.

Brilliant. :)

Wait.

You devious sod.

You never answered my question.

What question?

Kuuuuuuuuuuuuurt.

I am so surprised auto-correct didn't go to town on that.

Kuuuuuuuuuuuurt.

What do you think?

Is this some kind of test?

Yes.

Then I think yes. Because I am awesome on that show.

And to think it was your modesty that initially attracted me to you.

And here I was thinking it was my dashing good-looks and infectious charm.

That too.

So, did I guess right?

Just then, Burt called out, "Kurt, Finn's here!"

Kurt sighed and quickly tapped out a reply to Blaine before he dashed out of the bathroom, but not without checking his hair one last time in the mirror.

Well, you passed the test. Read into that what you will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go learn stuff.

Have fun. Learn lots! Xx

Oh Blaine, you really haven't been to highschool in a long time, have you? xx

Kurt slammed his locker door shut to come face-to-face with Mercedes, standing, one hand on her hip.

"Hey Mercedes," he said, starting to make his way to his next class.

"How was your night last night?" Mercedes asked, her tone pretty much the epitome of 'tread very, very carefully Kurt.'

"Fine," Kurt said.

"What did you do?" Mercedes pressed and Kurt dearly hoped she wasn't heading with this where he thought she was heading with this.

"Oh you know," Kurt said, struggling to keep his tone blasé. "Homework, facebook, sleep."

"Really?" Mercedes asked. "You see, that's funny. Because when I called your home phone last night, your father told me you were at Tina's, but – and here's the really funny thing – Tina said she hadn't seen you since lunch yesterday. But hey, I thought, 'Maybe Burt just got it wrong. He could be at Rachel's.' You weren't. In fact, it turns out no-one knows where you were last night."

"How odd," Kurt said, hoping desperately that Mercedes would just drop it.

"Oh come on, Kurt," Mercedes said. "I didn't dob you in to your father. Spill the beans already. Where were you last night?"

Kurt briefly considered telling Mercedes the truth. Very briefly.

"Out," he answered unhelpfully.

"Out where?"

"Nowhere in Lima, OK!" Kurt snapped. "Just drop it, please?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Kurt watched a conclusion slowly dawn on Mercedes, wishing he were anywhere but here right now.

"Oh. My. God."

Kurt started to walk even faster. Mercedes ran to catch up with him, blurting out the realisations as they hit her.

"That's why you're so adamant about not having a crush on Blaine—"

"Just leave it, Mercedes."

"—And that's why you've been so attached to your phone recently; I swore Mr Schue was going to confiscate it when you spent all of Glee texting with this huge-ass smile on your face—"

"Mercedes—"

"—And I can't believe you didn't tell me—"

"Mercedes, will you just shut up for one second!"

Mercedes stopped babbling and stared wide-eyed at Kurt, who was blushing furiously by this point.

"You cannot tell anyone about this, OK?" Kurt told her.

"But—"

"I really like this guy, Mercedes, but he's not ready for us to go public about it, so you just have to keep quiet, OK?"

Mercedes nodded slowly. "So, he's still in the closet?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Just not quite in the way she was thinking. "But he's just so … right, Mercedes. He makes me smile."

"Oh, I know, Boo," Mercedes said, softening. "You know, I thought the hospital drugs were making you loopy. I've never seen you break out the pearly whites so much."

Kurt shrugged. "He's my own special brand of Prozac."

"So what's Mr Prozac's name, then?"

Kurt smiled and thought to the number on his phone, saved under an alias.

"Chandler. Chandler Kiehl."

Blaine was just getting out of the shower when he heard his mobile ringing. He had to dive across the room to get it before it went to voicemail, hitting his head on his bedside table as he did so.

"Hello?" he managed to say through the haze of pain.

"Blaine, it's Wendy. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time, because we really need to talk."

Blaine sat up, rubbing his head. "No, go ahead. What is it?"

"I know you said you wanted to take things easy whilst filming Rational Fear season two, but I kind of got an offer I thought you wouldn't want to turn down."

"What is it?"

"It's a high school drama about a Greenpower Club."

"A what?"

"It's a club where you build a battery power car and then race it."

"OK…" Blaine hedged, hesitant.

"Check your e-mail, Blaine. I sent you the pilot script. I was uncertain at first when they called me with this, but I think you're going to really want to do it."

Blaine pushed himself up off the ground, pulling his towel closer around himself as he looked for his laptop. He flicked the smooth computer open and brought up his e-mail. Sure enough, sat there in his inbox was a new mail from Wendy, a PDF file attached.

"OK, I've found your e-mail," Blaine said. "When do I need to make a decision by?"

"If I don't get back to them by tonight, they're going to start looking for someone else."

Blaine sighed. He opened the attachment.

And he read.

Kurt's phone buzzed again during study and he was forced to endure a knowing smirk from Mercedes as he went to answer it.

I need to see you.

Kurt glanced around the room before flipping his phone to silent and then texting Blaine back.

Sure, when?

I'm outside your school right now.

Kurt looked between his half-completed French homework and the study supervisor, who was currently dozing on his desk. He turned to Mercedes.

"Cover for me?" he mouthed.

Merecedes held up a finger as she wrote her reply down on her notepad. She held it up with a grin.

GO GET 'IM TIGER!

Kurt smiled back before quietly gathering up his school things and leaving the room. The study supervisor didn't even stir.

Being alone in the hallways of McKinley was a surprisingly daunting experience, Kurt discovered as he ducked out of the classroom and headed for his locker. The sound of his Doc Martens as they patted against the floor echoed and ricocheted off the plain walls, somehow seeming cacophonous in the silence.

When Kurt reached his locker, he made quick work of organising himself for the weekend. It was when he was grabbing his history textbook that he heard them. A second pair of footsteps.

Kurt looked up, only to come face-to-face with David Karofsky.

Kurt didn't know if it was because Azimio had been expelled and was currently sitting in juvie somewhere, or for some other reason, but since his return to school, Karofsky had been giving him a wide berth.

It only hit him when he saw the bathroom pass in Karofsky's meaty palm, that they were alone together. No witnesses, the annoyingly right part of his brain whispered. He didn't even realise he had been holding his breath until Karofsky had long since passed, choosing only to glare at Kurt.

It was OK, Kurt reassured himself. Nothing had happened. No-one had been pushed in front of speeding traffic. No-one was in either the morgue or hospital.

Still, Kurt found himself looking forward with much more eagerness to his transfer to Dalton.

The decision to leave behind his friends, and the familiarity of the walls of McKinley, had been a hard one. It was eventually Carole who spelled it out for Kurt in a way that made him understand his dad's insistence on it.

It had been bad enough for Burt to realise that Kurt had been in an accidental road accident outside of McKinley. It was so much worse when Kurt revealed that he had been pushed in front of the car. Although Azimio had been picked up by the police weeks ago and was currently awaiting trial, Burt wanted his son safe.

Dalton was the best way to make that happen.

Next up was the reason that Carole had insisted on it.

Much as Kurt hated to admit it, he knew that he was a constant source of stress in his dad's life. He knew that Burt secretly disapproved of how he dressed, wished that he'd be more conservative, if only so that he'd be safer, and worried constantly for his welfare. He knew that sometimes he caused his dad more stress in five minutes as they fought that an entire month down at the shop.

So maybe giving his dad a break from looking after Kurt would be good for recovery.

Sure, it had hurt like hell when Carole originally said it – tact aside, the point was basically that he was a crap son – but Kurt had begrudgingly admitted she made sense and agreed to start weekly-boarding at Dalton.

And he was kind of excited about it, to be honest. Not just because he was leaving McKinley and the bullies and the daily torment behind, but because it would be a challenge. They even had their own show choir, too, the Dalton Academy Warblers.

OK, not the best of names, but it would be a fresh start.

Kurt smiled to himself as he pushed open the front doors of McKinley High and scoured the parking lot for his boyfriend.

He spotted Blaine pretty much right away. The actor was leaning against the bumper of his – admittedly new – hire car, his dark curls shoved underneath a beanie, a pair of glasses on his nose. It wasn't exactly the best disguise, but Kurt found it rather adorable.

"Hey," Kurt said as he drew nearer. "What's wrong?"

"Can we talk about this in the car, Kurt?" Blaine asked. "I need your help making a decision."

"And this couldn't have waited another forty minutes until I was officially out of my last lesson?" Kurt asked, but he yanked open the passenger side door and slid in. Something crinkled beneath him on the seat, but Kurt ignored it. He turned to face Blaine, who was already doing up his own seatbelt.

"You going to tell me what this is about now?" Kurt asked as Blaine turned his keys in the ignition and started to back up and out of the parking lot.

"There was something on your seat," Blaine said. "I need you to pick it up and read it."

Kurt pushed himself off the seat a few inches and pulled out a set of pages stapled together from underneath him.

"What's this?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shifted gears rather violently. "A script."

"OK, but why are you showing it to me?" Kurt asked, staring at the title on the front: Collision.

"It's a high school drama about a Greenpower Club," Blaine started.

"A what?"

"It's," Blaine shook his head. "Never mind. Just read the script, OK?"

Blaine glanced away from the road long enough to meet Kurt's eyes. Kurt sighed, and made a face like, 'You owe me for this, Anderson,' but flicked it open and started to read.

They were halfway to wherever Blaine was taking them when Kurt put the script down.

"What do you think?" Blaine asked immediately, gripping the steering wheel.

"That was…" Kurt drifted off, unsure of how to say what he wanted to.

"Good, bad, needs to be burned?" Blaine prompted.

"Really, really good," Kurt finished. "Kind of powerful. I'm sorry if I'm being unhelpful, but I really don't know what you want me to say."

"What did you think of the characters, Liam in particular?" Blaine asked and Kurt couldn't help but feel there was an answer in particular he was searching for.

"Um, as an ex-in-the-transparent-closet homosexual myself, I'd say pretty spot on," Kurt said uncertainly. "Blaine, what is this about?"

"They want me to act in this show," Blaine rushed out. "Not as Liam, but as another gay character they're introducing later. Kurt, they told me they created this character with me in mind. For me."

"Oh, OK," Kurt said. "That's, uh, pretty amazing all things considered."

"So, do you think I should do it?"

"Do what?"

"Take the part."

Kurt stared fully at Blaine, his mouth dropping open before he clamped it shut. "I sincerely hope you're kidding me, Blaine."

"Why?"

"Of course you should take the part," Kurt said. "First off, it would be downright rude to turn them down after all the effort they went to in order to get you on the show and second, why are we even having this conversation?"

Blaine sighed, before he switched the indicator on and pulled the car into a lay-by. He turned to face Kurt, twisting in his seat.

"When the whole Blaine Anderson is gay thing hit the fan and I chose not to deny it," Blaine began quietly, "I told myself I wouldn't do it. Turn myself into some sort icon for gay kids, because really, I can't handle that sort of pressure and I'm not the sort of person that they should be looking up to. People seem to think I'm this self-assured, smooth-talking charmer, but Kurt, I'm just not. I have no idea what I'm doing half the time. I'm just really, really good at faking."

"I still don't see how this relates to you taking the part, Blaine," Kurt pointed out bluntly.

"I'm scared, Kurt," Blaine admitted. "I'm scared because I can't do what you do. I can't march down hallways with my head held high whilst people throw homophobic slurs at me, screaming 'This is who I am, deal with it!' because I just can't. And this part is just going to…" Blaine broke off. "I can't be fearless like you Kurt."

Kurt's eyes softened. He reached down and unplugged his seat belt, then leant over so he could comfort Blaine.

"Blaine," he said tenderly. "I'm not fearless. Fearlessness is shutting your eyes and throwing yourself forward blindly. Courage, Blaine, is opening them and looking before you leap, but leaping anyway."

Kurt stroked his thumb across Blaine's collar bone. "Take your own advice, Anderson. Have a little courage."

Kurt ended up banging through the front door a few minutes before six to find his dad slouched on the sofa, watching a rerun of a football game. Burt looked up and put it on mute before patting on the sofa beside him, signally for Kurt to come sit down.

"Hey kiddo," Burt said. "How was Mercedes'?"

Kurt sunk down into the sofa cushions next to him, shrugging a little. "Fine, I guess. We watched a bunch of Disney films. I'm going to miss her at Dalton." It was funny, but even though he'd only said the statement as part of his sell of his cover story, Kurt knew it was true the second it left his mouth. Not wanting to linger on that thought, Kurt quickly changed the subject. "Who's winning?" he asked, pointing at the screen.

"I dunno," Burt confessed. "I was kind of just watching so it wouldn't be so quiet without you here." Burt paused. "Kurt, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Kurt nodded.

"And I know I said that I wasn't really ready for it last year, but that includes boys," Burt said carefully, watching his son's reaction closely.

Kurt nodded once more.

"Even if you don't think I'd approve," Burt continued.

Kurt started to nod, but cut himself off. "Where are you going with this?" he questioned suspiciously.

Burt sighed before throwing an arm around Kurt's shoulders. The teenager yelped slightly as his father drew him close.

"I almost lost you once, Kurt," Burt said. "I don't know if you know how that felt, but it literally gave me a heart attack. You being gay may have made me feel … uncomfortable, but Kurt, I love you. Every part."

Kurt's thoughts drifted to Blaine and the jarring topic changes he pulled whenever his family was mentioned and suddenly he felt horrible and manipulative and like a class-A asshole for keeping his boyfriend secret. Because he had a family who cared. And he could tell his dad. And he would still care.

Kurt sighed and leant into his father's embrace.

"I know, Dad," he said. "I know."

They remained like that for a few seconds before Kurt swallowed his fear.

"Dad, there's someone I want you to meet."

Here's another chapter. I don't really like this one, but that is more than made up for by how much love I have for the coming chapter.

See you then,

-Kaputt