A/N: I apologize for this update taking a ridiculously long time to be posted. I got really wrapped up in some novels for a while, and then an amazing destiel fic, and then I just wasn't feeling it. Anyway, here it is, the chapter I wrote in bits and pieces.

Kurt Hummel would always be slightly annoyed by Sam's various celebrity impersonations that were brought out at the most random times and by Finn constantly insisting the group use Rock Band rather than a normal karaoke machine for singing challenges (because that way at least more people could participate, he argued every time Kurt would sigh impatiently). He would always repress a groan when Rachel signed everyone up for the songs she thought they were most capable of performing well and when Mercedes inevitably brought tater tot casserole as her obligatory nutritional contribution to every sleepover.

But despite all the pet peeves his fellow members of New Directions evoke in him, he would always love them as a part of his family. Because that's what they are: a crazy, slightly dysfunctional family.

So when Puck and Santana arrive late to Rachel Berry's Backyard Summer Extravaganza with matching self-satisfied smirks, he should have been on his guard right away. He knows what that look means. He's seen it often enough over the past two and a half years.

But at that moment his phone dings, signifying the arrival of an unread message. Thus distracted from the possibility of engaging in any suspicion toward the duo, Kurt shakes his head at their retreating backs and leaves the two to their own devices. Hopefully nothing expensive breaks or gets set on fire within the next fifteen minutes.

Apparently his favorite fashion blog has a new post regarding upcoming fall trends, which is so much more important anyway.

The sun beats down on the partying group of teens in languid waves of heat, its rays fighting in vain to make their way through Kurt's SPF 100 sunblock. It may seem a bit extreme to employ such a high grade of the product, but Kurt Hummel takes no chances with his skin. He doesn't do all that moisturizing every day just for it to go to waste. He's experienced the torture of burns turning him as red as a newly waxed apple before, and he refuses to undergo such a situation again as long as he has the power to avoid it. He definitely learned his lesson regarding skin safety the first time.

Hence the reason he currently reclines beneath the wide area of shade provided by the shadow of a red and yellow polka dot beach umbrella he found in the Berry's basement, an iced tea with a matching drink umbrella held loosely in his free hand. The others occupy themselves with running around the Berry's spacious backyard or diving into the large pool over and over again, trying to outdo one another with bigger and more complicated diving techniques at each attempt. Mercedes invites him over for a splash fight, maybe even a game of chicken, but he politely demurs for the time being. He's not done with that blog post just yet.

"Later," he calls outs reassuringly in response to her dejected gaze and pouting bottom lip.

"What's happening later?"

The voice fills the air from his left, suddenly and completely out of the blue. He hadn't heard anyone nearby. Kurt turns to find Santana smiling at him. In any situation, Santana smiling unprovoked is rarely a good omen. He tamps down his suspicion and vague anxiety enough to genuinely smile in return. It's best to humor her when she's in such a mood until he finds out just what she's after.

"Splash fight."

"Sounds fun." She looks down at her nails, painted a dark crimson, then back up at a bemused Kurt. "Didn't know you were into those. Thought you didn't like getting wet."

Kurt involuntarily flushes at the obvious innuendo, then laughs. "I can have fun in the sun, too. Wet or not."

"With your albino porcelain skin?"

"Yes, even with my so-called albino porcelain skin."

Santana turns to scan the yard, apparently disinterested in the direction the conversation is taking. She fakes a gag as an exuberant Finn spinning a giggling Rachel through the sprinklers passes through her line of vision. "Bet you wish your boy toy was here."

She says it so casually Kurt needs a moment for the words to settle in his mind and for the meaning of the words to sink in. He nearly chokes on his tea. "I - I don't know what you're talking about." No one is supposed to know! It's bad enough his father knows! Kurt already endures the teasing looks and comments from his father every time he and Blaine talk on the phone. He doesn't need the New Directions on his back as well.

Santana flips her hair over her shoulder and looks back at Kurt. Her skin glows beneath the lilting sunlight and for a millisecond Kurt feels a flash of shallow envy in his gut. Her smirk from earlier slowly slides back into place as she remains silent for an agonizing few seconds.

"You know exactly who I'm talking about."

He knows playing dumb is futile, but at this point what other option does he really have? Concede defeat, spill his guts, and hope Satan will keep his secret from the others? Not likely.

"I told you, I don't have a crush on Finn anymore. He's family, that's it."

Santana narrows her eyes at his blatant misdirection. "I'm not stupid, Kurt. And neither are you." She sighs and walks away to join Brittany in the kiddie pool, leaving Kurt to wonder just what exactly she does and doesn't know about his relationship with Blaine.

Kurt thanks his lucky stars she walked away so easily, essentially letting him off the hook for the time being. After a long enough interrogation under Santana's relentless scrutiny, he knows he'd break.

The next hour passes with unimportant gossip and the occasional argument between the boys concerning who the best swimmer is. A contest to see who can hold their breath underwater for the longest period of time takes place, declaring Puck being the clear winner with an impressive time of three and a half minutes. He breaks the water with a wide grin, bragging that he's had a lot of practice, causing the girls to gag, the other guys to laugh, and Kurt pushing against the various disgusting images trying to appear in his mind.

Kurt, shortly after the debacle, finds himself floating in the shallow end of the pool when Puck approaches him.

What now? Kurt wonders as he pointedly turns his body in the opposite direction. First Satan, and now Noah. They must be planning something.

Puck jumps in right beside the peaceful countertenor, chuckling as Kurt agitatedly wipes water off his face and runs his fingers through his up-until-that-moment perfectly styled and dry hair.

"It's just water, man," the punk maverick teases.

"Chlorinated water," Kurt retorts, his eyes aglow with annoyance.

"Chillax, Hummel." Puck flips from standing on his feet to floating on his back, the small waves caused by his sudden disturbance drifting him nearer to Kurt. Kurt, for his part, takes that small window of time to move further away. "C'mon, I don't bite," the other entreats. A brief pause ensues followed by, " Unless you're into that?"

Kurt scoffs as he pulls himself out of the pool and dries off with the fluffy towel laying across the lawn chair he had occupied before taking a dip. At least Rachel is good at making sure her guests are well-cared for.

Puck swims lazily to the edge of the pool nearest Kurt, resting his arms across the tile surface. He doesn't say anything, but with the look on his face he doesn't need to.

"What exactly are you and Satan planning, Noah?" Kurt asks casually, sliding down to stretch comfortably across the towel he's laid over the lawn chair. He ignores the appreciative whistle that leaves Santana's lips from across the lawn, keeping his gaze firmly on the smirking juvenile delinquent before him.

Puck shrugs. "You'll see, Hummel. It's for your own good."

As if on cue, the white wooden gate that leads straight into the backyard flies open. Rachel glances over in terror, Kurt notices, then his eyes glance toward Puck to analyze the boy's reaction. His eyes widen and then narrow in quick succession, leading Kurt to wonder just what the hell is going on.

Santana is swearing loudly in Spanish, rushing toward the gate and effectively blocking Kurt's view of the incoming intruders. Before Kurt can move a full step, he stops right in his tracks as a familiar head of curls steps around Santana and fully into the yard.

Blaine.

A/N: Some sad news, that you have probably realized by now. I haven't been writing nearly as much as I used to. These chapters are getting shorter and shorter, something I hope you can forgive me for. Anyway, until I can get back into a better groove, you can expect future chapters to be about the same length. For anyone still sticking with me, I appreciate you so, so much.