Blaine heard the door open downstairs and immediately tensed. He had been lying on his bed, thinking about everything since he'd gotten upstairs. Kurt had texted him, teasing him about the whole Rachel thing and it had just made him remember last night and feel more annoyed with himself. He really didn't think he drank that much. But the rolling on the floor with beer dripping from his sleeve wasn't his finest moment. But more than that, he was starting to feel really guilty. His mom had to go and talk about his dad trusting him and now he felt like a jerk. It's not like he had done a drug deal or something, he reasoned. Probably all teenagers lie to their parents sometimes. He wondered if all teenagers felt as bad about it.

He still wondered, in the back of his mind, if his mom had noticed about the cardigan. Maybe she hadn't. Or maybe she had and hadn't said anything to his dad. But if she had told his dad- he would hit the roof, Blaine was sure. Oh my God, what if she knew and hadn't told him yet. If he confessed now, he'd be in trouble, but it'd be a lot worse if his dad accused him. Covering his eyes with his arm, he sighed. Either way would suck, because either way his dad would say he lied. Which... was true. And lying always earned a person a spanking around here. It was basically his dad's biggest rule. He was screwed. Probably the best thing was to just hope his mom never noticed, that his dad would never find out, and that his conscience would eventually shut up.

Sighing, he rolled his head over to the side to check the clock. Time to bring the last load down.

Blaine gathered up the last of the clothes from the hamper and made his way downstairs.

When he had finished in the basement, Blaine came back up the stairs to find his father pouring himself a pot of tea.

"Hey."

"Blaine." Mr. Anderson always defaulted to short and stern when Blaine was on thin ice. But then he regretted the tone. "...That the last of the clothes?" he asked, trying to sound conversational rather than confrontational.

Blaine nodded. "Yes sir."

"Well that wasn't so hard, right?" Mr. Anderson's attempt at being- friendly (?)- in these circumstances was nothing short of pathetic.

"...No sir."

There was a pause. Mr. Anderson reached into his pocket. "Well. I have your allowance. I wasn't happy about this laundry business but you did shovel the walk, so... here."

Blaine smiled, grateful. He hadn't really been sure if he was going to get it after all this. Course his Dad didn't know the half of what had gone on. Probably if he did he'd never get an allowance again... "Th-thanks Dad. I'm real sorry about being so late with stuff."

Fidgety, Blaine took the cash and started towards the stairway.

"I'll be up in a bit to check on you, son."

Blaine swallowed, not looking at his dad. "Yeah, uh, I guess... we should talk."

Finding this promising, Mr. Anderson got the nerve to put a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Seems like it might be a good idea." He gave his son's shoulder a pat. "I'll be up in little while."

Blaine nodded and slipped away upstairs.

Mr. Anderson smiled after him and then went into the living room with his tea, bringing a second cup to Mrs. Anderson.

"How is he?" she asked, half her attention on an I Love Lucy rerun on the television.

"Poor kid. I think he feels guilty as sin."