A/N: As I read through the story I realized I made a lot of mistakes, and I will fix them as soon as I can, but all you gotta know right now is that Blaine's dad is called Eric. Also I want to apologize for not updating for so long: I got submitted to the hospital for two-three months and when I finally found the energy to write again, my harddisk broke – yes, that means I have none of my stories. Anywhere. It was my safety disk.

I'm trying to get it fixed, but so far, no luck. So I'm sorry for the lack of updates, but I'm hoping to get into it again soon! Anyway. Here's a long awaited chapter (and sorry about the blangst)!

Going back to normal was… difficult, to say the least. Because normal wasn't normal anymore. Normal would be them ignoring the fight like it never happened.

It would've been easier. So much easier. But they weren't looking for normal anymore. They were looking for happy.

It was the hardest for Blaine.

Not because he was the one who'd run away or because he always hid his emotions so far back in his mind, he wasn't even sure of them himself.

It was because he'd been given that last chance. The chance he didn't deserve. And he didn't know how to act. Did he go soft and couple-y now? Did he go back to normal? What was he supposed to do to make things okay again?

Romance wasn't his thing. At all. But he tried.

The single roses started appearing on Kurt's table again; just like little notes found their ways into his things. A note on the mirror saying 'you look amazing'; one on the fridge saying 'I'll take you out tonight', and even one on the lock he'd picked (again), apologizing and promising never to do such a thing again. Kurt wasn't sure if he should believe him on that one, but it made him smile.

The first few days were… awkward.

Blaine walking around, careful not to say or do anything wrong – and Kurt not wanting to upset him by telling him it wasn't needed. He just wanted his Blaine back. The cocky, arrogant asshole who was mostly just a soft teddy bear at heart.

It took a drunken phone call in the middle of the night to make things better. Worse, at first, but better.

They were sleeping in Kurt's bed, as they'd begun to. Kurt had been thinking about the whole moving-in-together thing, but they still didn't seem to be there quite yet. Blaine's phone had started ringing and without a second thought, Kurt had grabbed the phone and pressed 'accept call' with a sleepy "hello?" Blaine hadn't even stirred at the phone's ringing but as Kurt sat abruptly up in bed, his eyes fluttered open.

"What's wrong babe?" He asked hoarsely. Instead of a direct answer, he got his phone thrown near his face as Kurt left the bed; pulling the comforter with him.

"Why don't you ask him?" Kurt bit and went into the living room. Blaine was confused for a second before he picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

"H–"

"- and when I'm done with your slutty mouth –" Blaine physically pulled back from the phone, feeling sick all of a sudden. Who the hell called him at 3.30 in the morning to say stuff like that? He bit back a groan as he thought of more than one person capable of doing so.

"Listen here you little shit," he snarled into the phone and the man on the other end stopped speaking. "If you ever call me again at a time like this while I'm in bed with my boyfriend, I will hunt you down and personally make sure you'll never be able to 'be done' with anybody's slutty mouth anymore, am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," a weak voice sounded and Blaine hung up not a second after that. He looked down to see the name 'Jonathan' on the screen and sighed. He couldn't even remember who the hell Jonathan was. Which made everything ten times worse. Some stranger had called him in the middle of the night and Kurt had taken the call and– Kurt. Blaine tumbled out of bed and went into the living room where Kurt was cocooned in his comforter on the couch.

"Babe–"

"Who was he?" Kurt poked his head out of the blanket and Blaine flinched a bit as he saw not the tears he'd anticipated, but a look of raw anger on Kurt's face. "Or rather when?"

"I… don't remember."

"Oh for fuck's sake Blaine–"

"I know!" Blaine interrupted. "I know how it looks–"

"You do, huh? Then tell me. Tell me how it looks." Blaine swallowed uncomfortably and looked down on the ground. It looked really bad. Their wounds from before were barely starting to heal and now he fucked up again.

"It looks like I fuck around," he said honestly. Kurt looked slightly surprised. "Which I do. Or I did. Because I don't want to do that anymore – not when I have you. I don't feel like going to clubs; I don't feel like hitting on another pretty face; hell, if you said no, I would never even have sex again."

"Blaine–"

"I'm not asking you to forgive me for being an asshole. We've already been through this and I'm clearly not worth forgiving yet, but I'm trying and if I had known some idiot would call me when we're only just trying to be us again, I would've changed my number, but I honestly didn't even think of that. I only thought about you. About having you back in my life."

"Maybe you should," Kurt said quietly.

"What?"

"Maybe you should ask me to forgive you." He shrugged mostly out of the blanket and starred right at Blaine. "Maybe you should finally try to ask me. You haven't so far and you know what Blaine? It's very noble of you, but I can't do this all by myself. You need to ask me to forgive you, otherwise I'll walk around not really knowing if you want me to."

"Of course I want you to!"

"Then why haven't you asked me to?"

"Because if I can't forgive myself, how the hell will you?!"

"Have a little faith in me!" Kurt raised his voice. "Have some fucking faith in us! How do you expect us to work when you keep playing the bad guy?"

"But I'm–"

"Yes, what you did was wrong and no, you shouldn't just ignore it. But do you just plan on close up and never forgive yourself? Are you never gonna turn back to being the Blaine Anderson I fell in love with? I am not in love with some snotty self-hating brat, who doesn't even dare put the toothpaste on the wrong side of the sink!"

"I–"

"Please just ask me to forgive you, so we can get past this, Blaine, because I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna work if you don't man up and ask for forgiveness."

"What if you say fucking no?!"

"What?"

"What if you don't forgive me? What am I supposed to do then? Just get the fuck out of your life? I can't do that. Not anymore. You kept me here of your own free will, so you fucking better take some responsibility!"

"Fine, you dumb asshole! I forgive you!"

"Fine!" Both men were panting at this point and Kurt was sure he'd get a complaint or two from his neighbors the next day, but then he realized that Blaine had finally snapped back to his old cursing self and he could care less about his neighbors.

"You're an idiot," Kurt said quietly.

"So you've told me," Blaine responded.

"I'll keep telling you."

"Good."

They'd gone back to bed after that; Blaine leaving his phone in the living room, mentally planning on getting a new one as soon as possible. He needed to separate himself from that part of his life. Otherwise he couldn't go on fully comfortable in his new one.

xxx

There weren't any complaints from the neighbors the next day - but then again most of them had seen Blaine outside once or twice and none of them seemed very keen on complaining about it. He may not be as scary as he looked, but seeing as he never spoke to any of them, they wouldn't know this.

Something else happened the next day though, and if you'd asked Kurt - or Blaine for that matter - what they'd preferred to happen, they would have picked the complaints from the neighbors.

Work eventually came back around and even though neither of the men really wanted to, both Kurt and Blaine went to work. This time though, they went by foot. Together.

Kurt had thought about the whole moving in together thing, and while they clearly weren't as steady as they wanted to be, they were getting there. And from the last couple of months, Kurt had realized that he didn't want to live his life without Blaine, no matter how many times a week they fought.

Problem was that he didn't know if Blaine felt the same. Not that he doubted Blaine's feelings, but he knew how the other man liked his space and his alone-time. And it wasn't like they slept in the same bed every night. Only, like, every other.

Caught up in his own thoughts, Kurt didn't even notice Blaine grasping his hand only a few blocks away from work. He still wasn't used to walking hand in hand with someone, but he was slowly getting used to it: and he'd come to enjoy it quite a bit. So while Kurt was caught up in his own mind, Blaine was too busy enjoying the whole boyfriend thing. He remembered the last boyfriend he'd had, very clearly. It hadn't ended too well, but then again, he hadn't put up any kind of fight back then. He'd been fifteen; still a student at Dalton. He snorted a bit at the memory of his awkward way to morph into a 'badboy'. He hadn't even considered it before meeting Jason. At least after the break up he'd ditched the greasy hair and the idea of getting tattoos up and down his arms. He didn't think Kurt would've had much respect for him, if he'd been walking around with tribal drawings all over his body.

Jason had a tattoo, Blaine remembered. He sneaked a look at Kurt, who was still too busy with his own thoughts to even avoid the people Blaine carefully pulled him away from. How would Kurt look with a tattoo? And what would he get? Maybe a flower? Or an animal? Something gorgeous, but with a fierceness to it, Blaine thought.

He imagined Kurt with a howling wolf on his shoulder blade. He imagined rubbing lotion into the newly made tattoo to help it heal. He thought about tracing the healed lines with his tongue; making Kurt sigh quietly. He felt a squirming in his stomach as Dream-Kurt let out little moans the more he sucked and licked at the inked skin.

And suddenly he didn't imagine much more as he walked directly into a trashcan. One of those that are bolted to the ground and didn't move an inch, no matter how much you kicked it. Or no matter how hard you walked into it.

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed worriedly but then he took one look at Blaine and couldn't hold back his laughter. Blaine had doubled over so much he'd just sat down on the street, holding protectively near his crotch. Half-hard dick plus trashcan was not a great mix.

When he finally felt like getting up, Kurt had laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he chuckled. "I have never seen anyone walk into a trashcan before. You looked absolutely horrified!"

"Well how would you feel if it was your fucking dick that was gonna be bruised?" Blaine mumbled grumpily but still accepted the hand Kurt presented to him to help him up. He felt a pain in his knee but thanked a greater force that it was the knee that had hit the damn thing first and not his abdomen.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'll blow on it later okay?" Kurt said with a wink and all of a sudden Blaine did feel better. And hotter, because damn, the impact hadn't cooled him down at all. He'd better talk Kurt into getting a tattoo. But not before he'd gotten his injury looked at closely.

"That does make me feel better," Blaine smirked and grabbed Kurt around the waist, as they kept walking down the street.

What did not make him feel the slightest bit better was the sight of his father leaning up against his desk with his arms crossed across his chest. Their eyes met and Blaine scowled. He was not in the mood, or rather he didn't want to have his day ruined. He let go of Kurt and sent him a small smile. The brunette knew better than to ask what was up. You never knew with Eric Anderson.

As Blaine approached his father he felt an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had an inkling regarding what the older man wanted, but he wasn't sure. He never was with his dad. The older Anderson made a movement with his neck and Blaine followed him into his office. Something private then. The door closed behind them and every single pair of eyes snapped back to their work.

Except maybe Kurt's, because he was too busy trying to figure out what was up now. Ever since they'd discovered that Blaine's dad had forbidden him from visiting Sam, they hadn't talked about him. But maybe Blaine had contacted him. Maybe they would try to find a civil solution.

It didn't seem that way when the first raised voice sounded through the door to Eric Anderson's office.

xxx

"You can't just do this!" Blaine exclaimed loudly.

"I can, and I have. You will not go there anymore. At least not while you're bringing scum with you."

"Don't you dare talk about Kurt that way! At least he cares enough to go with me. How many times have you visited your daughter in the last year?!" Blaine said, voice rising.

"I'm warning you, Blaine-" Eric threatened. He was getting tired of his son's attitude.

"None! Not a single one!"

"Bl-"

"No! I won't hear your excuses. She's your fucking daughter! Hate me all you want, I don't give a shit, but don't abandon her, just because she's not… because she's not…"

"She's not alive," Eric said quietly.

"She's not dead either!" Blaine screamed. "She's not dead, dad! She's right there in that room, just like she's been for the past seven years! And you still won't acknowledge that! You won't let her rest in peace, but you won't treat her like a living person either!"

"She's my responsibility! You have nothing to do with her!"

"She's my baby sister! She's my everything! You can keep me away from her fucking hospital room, but you can't stop me from loving her! Which is more than you've ever shown done for her these years! At least I'm there for her – at least I'm not letting her die!"

"I won't let her die!"

"You won't let her go! You won't let her go, just like I won't, but you…" Blaine choked on his tears. "You have to let me see her at least."

"Why would I let her murderer see her?" Blaine paled at his father's accusation.

"She's not dead. You said so yourself."

"I also said she's not alive, Blaine." Eric seemed to get a hold of his feelings. "I told you years ago. I will not let you see her. She's not getting any better, and you have no right to look at her."

"I'm her brother," he whispered.

"Oh so a brother is the kind of person who makes a five year old cross the street alone? Who lets her get run over by a car? Who doesn't even have the balls to call her parents?"

"I was scared, dad, I-"

"You were a fucking coward, Blaine!" And then it was as if the bubble that had been surrounding the elder Anderson for years, broke. "You let your sister get smashed by a fucking car, because of some boy. You didn't have the guts to tell me or your mother anything. Why do you think she killed herself, huh?"

"I know why-"

"You don't, Blaine! She did it because of you! You and your faggot ways! She didn't love you - none of us did. You killed our Samantha and just thought it'd all go away if you kept quiet? You fucking moron. You have cost me a daughter and a wife. I'll never forgive you for that!"

"I lost them too!" Blaine protested. Even though he'd known about his father's hate for him, it still hurt to get it all thrown in his face.

"Maria would've been so disappointed in you, Blaine. You didn't just kill your sister, you killed your own mother too, and I-"

"STOP IT!" Both Andersons turned to look at the door, where Kurt had burst in; face flushed and eyes angry.

"You shut your damn mouth right now," he hissed and at first Blaine thought he was speaking to them both, but then he noticed how Kurt's glare was directed at his father.

"Do you know what you've made Blaine go through?" His voice was calm, so disturbingly calm.

"You-"

"No! You are going to shut the fuck up and listen for a change," Kurt interrupted and walked closer; slamming the door behind him.

"Blaine was fourteen. Fourteen! When you made him lose everything. He is not in any way guilty of murder. Not to Samantha nor your wife. Blaine lost his sister and his mother, and you call him a murderer? How dare you?"

Eric Anderson looked like he wanted to say something, but you didn't just interrupt Kurt Hummel when he was speaking.

"The reason your wife killed herself, Mr. Anderson, was not because she lost her daughter. It wasn't because her son was gay either. It was because you failed in comforting her. You locked your daughter in a hospital room and stopped talking about her. You blamed your son. You pushed every responsibility away from yourself and you ignored the world. Most of all you ignored your fucking family. You ignored your wife's grief, that's why she wanted to get away. Not because her son liked other boys, not because her daughter was in a coma, but because you neglected her in the worst possible way."

Kurt looked the older Anderson right in the eyes when he spoke again.

"And you can blame whoever you want, but you will always know it's your own fault. That's why you're taking it out on Blaine. Because you're fucking scared of realizing the truth. But guess what? Truth's out, Mr. Anderson. You've screamed it loud enough for the next three floors to know." He slowly walked over to a still shaking Blaine and took his hand.

"Now, you will leave my boyfriend alone until you discover what it means to be a decent human being and a parent. You have no son? Well fine, because he's better off without you anyway. He has me, and he will always have me." He led them to the door but turned around before walking out.

"If it wasn't clear enough, I quit," he said coldly and let the door shut after them.

I will keep writing as fast as I can type on the next chapter, okay?

Thank you so much for your patience and for reading this! I love you guys!