Blaine sat at an easel on the lawn, painting the lake. His tumbling curls were barely restrained by the gel he used, curling all the harder in the muggy summer air. He listened distantly to the gossip flying between the lonely housewives left by their card-playing husbands. He felt a sharp poke on his shoulder and started, smudging the line of the beach that he was painting. He grimaced and turned to see his sister Santana with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. He opened his mouth to say hi, but she beat him to it. "Blaine, I need you to tell Mom and Dad that I have a headache tonight.""Why?" He asked."Because David and I are going to go admire the view at the golf course tonight, and they don't need to know that."Blaine was surprised. "Really? David?" Blaine was surprised that Santana had intentions towards that ham-handed brute. And, admittedly, a little surprised that she was going for a guy at all. He'd caught her in the garage with her hand up the neighbor's daughter's shirt just last glared at him. "What of it, Blaine? Why don't you just go find another downtrodden orphan to champion? He looked down, not knowing how to respond. "Fine. I'll tell them. Have a good time.""I will." Santana left, heading for the boathouse. Quinn walked through the group of easels, offering people more paint if they needed it. Blaine watched her enviously. She seemed so cool and world-weary. The way she danced was so arresting- he wanted to have her ability to make people stop and pay attention to him. He felt a person stride past him. He closed his eyes, getting a whiff of soap, sweat, and cedar. It was Kurt. He watched Kurt walk up to Quinn. He must have asked her a question because she shook her head and looked a little upset. He stroked her arm for a second, kissed her cheek, and walked quickly back up the lawn. Blaine was staring at Kurt when he reached for his paintbrush. He hand knocked his water glass over and he lunged to grab it before it broke. He did catch it, in a neat underhanded move, but then he was on his hands and knees on the ground in front of Kurt. A slender hand came into view, and Blaine could smell cedar and soap again. He took the hand, looking up to see shining green eyes. Kurt did not meet his gaze, though, looking off to the left instead. His hands did not linger any longer than was strictly necessary either. But oh, those hands. Milky white fingers, slender but strong; calluses on the palm a result of hard labor. Warm. Kurt strode away, leaving Blaine frozen behind smiled at Quinn when she came to offer him more paint. "I love the way you dance." He said, beaming at her. She smiled unenthusiastically back. "No, I mean it! You're really good. How did you learn?"She looked down at her paints tiredly. "My Dad kicked me out when I was 16. I had to learn something. Real fast.""I envy you," Blaine blurted out, realizing how stupid that sounded. From the look on her face Quinn thought that it was stupid too. Blaine sighed and looked down. Today was not his most dapper of days.. . .Night came quickly enough, and with it relief from the muggy heat of the day. Blaine stood in the gazebo, a soft cool breeze caressing him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sights and smells. He was hyper aware of Kurt dancing with one of the housewives off to his left. She cooed at him, falling over his outstretched arms and trailing her hands in barely decent areas. Blaine growled under his breath, but was powerless to do anything about it. "Doc! Not dancing?" Sue came over, smiling at Blaine's father. "Not yet Sue," Lily replied "we're waiting for a waltz." Sue beckoned Rachel over, who had just been chastising Kurt about something. Rachel smiled a huge smile and grabbed Blaine's hand, bouncing. "Let's take a walk, Blainey Blaine!" He looked back at his parents for help, but they only smiled and urged him forward. Rachel and Blaine stood on a balcony overlooking the lake. She trailed her hands through his curly hair. "I love to watch your hair in the breeze," she said. Blaine fought to not roll his eyes. Wouldn't she get the hint that he wasn't behaving affectionately back? "Maybe my parents are looking for me" he said, hinting again."Not if you're with me, Blaine." She responded coyly "Don't you know I'm the catch of the town? Just last week I stole a guy from the lifeguard.""Karofsky!" It was Santana. They heard movement behind one of the trees, and David Karofsky was pushing his way through the trees with Santana following behind. "Where are you going?" She asked, sounding as vulnerable as Blaine had ever heard her."Why don't you just run back to your Mommy and Daddy, little girl." David yelled back, not slowing down for her. She tripped and stumbled trying to keep up with him. Blaine felt very sad, but could do nothing about it. Rachel tugged on his cardigan. "I'm sorry that happened, Blaine. I'm sorry you had to see that. I guess sometimes you have to see things that you don't want to see." She said it so earnestly, as though Blaine had never encountered anything so horrible. He turned his face away, unable to look her straight in the eye for fear of screaming."Hey," She asked, stroking his sweater in a manner that she must have thought was soothing. "Are you hungry?" He shrugged and she led him away, leaving the glittering gazebo brought him to the main kitchen to get some ice cream. He had nothing in particular against ice cream, but wished that Rachel were not involved. She nattered on about something and he looked around. There was a shuffling noise, like a mouse. He looked around a cabinet and saw Quinn on the floor crying. Her usually immaculate makeup was smudged and her hair was in complete disarray. He knew that he couldn't let Rachel find her. "Rachel- I really want to dance all of a sudden." He led her away.. . .He ran to find Brittany at the Gazebo. "Get Kurt- Quinn needs him!" He whispered furiously. Brittany cut into Kurt's dance with yet another housewife and the three of them walked briskly to the kitchen."What's he doing here?" Kurt asked Brittany, nodding towards Blaine as they walked. "In case Rachel comes back?"Kurt smiled a little. "Good thinking, Brit."Blaine hurried to keep up with them, their legs so much longer than his. "What's wrong? Why is Quinn crying?"Kurt ignored him completely. "She's knocked up," Brittany whispered."Brittany!" Kurt chastised in aggravated tones, "That's none of his business."Blaine stopped walking for a second, stunned. So Kurt was straight. "What's he going to do about it?" She asked stopped dead in his tracks. "What's he gonna do? Oh, so it's mine, right?" He snorted and looked away. Blaine noticed how nice Kurt looked in the tuxedo he was wearing, and cursed himself for that. "Of course you'd think it was mine."Blaine swallowed. "I thought.." "No. You didn't. Go home, Blaine." Kurt turned away and kept going. Brittany and Blaine exchanged a glance and followed after 's mind was racing. He knew that Quinn was knocked up, but why did she have to cry where somebody might find her? Some nosy kid like Rachel or Blaine. He shook his head at the thought of meek, innocent Blaine being involved with anything as real as Quinn losing her job. He knew that everybody would blame him for Quinn's pregnancy, knew that he could lose his job if anybody found out. Of course nobody would believe that it had been Karofsky- why would they? Karofsky would head off to medical school in the fall, leaving the real people to pick up the saw Quinn lying down and rushed to her side. He gathered her too-skinny body in his arms and held her as she sobbed. "It's alright," He murmured, "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you." He stroked her hair and held watched from the background, brown eyes wide with concern and confusion. If Kurt wasn't the father, who was? And maybe Kurt was gay? It was nice that Quinn had somebody to care for her. He ran his hand through his hair absently, getting gel on it. He rolled his eyes and vowed to stop using the stuff. . . .The next morning he confronted Karofsky while he was setting the tables for breakfast. Karofsky laughed when Blaine told him that he had to pay. "What, blow my whole summer's salary paying for a girl who's probably had every guy here? Why me, why not her little dancer boyfriend Kurt." Karofsky got a weird look on his face that Blaine couldn't identify."But you've got to, David, it's the right thing to do." He twisted the napkin in his hand anxiously."Look, Blaine. Some people count, and some people don't." He fished a beaten up paperback out of his pocket and handed it to Blaine. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. "Objectivism. I think this is a book you'll enjoy. But make sure you return it: I have notes in the margin."Blaine stepped up to Karofsky, ignoring the man's much larger mass. "You make me sick. Stay away from me, stay away from my sister. Or I'll have you fired." With a very sweet smile he dumped an entire pitcher of icewater down Karofsky's pants and stalked away.