Blaine's fists hit the punching bag in an even rhythm, making it sway gently against his hits. The gym is loud around him – people running on treadmills, a few weightlifters talking and laughing together in the corner, a radio station playing some recent pop-song that is all beat and no melody – but Blaine isn't paying it any attention. He's focused on the movement of his arms, on the slight burn as his gloved hands meet the leather of the bag, on the specific spot on the bag he's aiming at with every punch.

He gives the bag three more rapid punches and then leans away, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. His tank top is sticking to his back, and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he feels calm, his limbs loose and tired. He hasn't even had a particularly rough week at work, but going boxing twice a week is still his habit, his way to forget work and his cases and the paperwork waiting on his desk for a while and just focus on something purely physical.

It's actually kind of like sex. Even if boxing and sex are two completely, totally and utterly different things.

Blaine lets out a tired laugh and shakes his head at his own thoughts, pulling the gloves off his hands and flexing his fingers. He places all of his equipment in his bag and takes a swig from his water bottle, glancing at the clock on the wall as he swallows. It's not that late yet, thankfully. He managed to leave the office a little earlier than usual because the whole White Collar Division had been efficient today, and now he could go home and spend the rest of the day with Kurt, making dinner, watching something ridiculous from TV and cuddling on the sofa.

He smiles at the thought and grabs his things, humming under his breath as he walks to the locker room. The room is packed once again, so he only dries his skin with a towel and decides to take a shower at home, just like he usually does. The gym is within a walking distance from the FBI, so he left his car at the Bureau's parking garage and has to walk there anyway. Might as well turn the walk into a jog and sweat some more. Besides, the weather has been nice and warm today.

Blaine has already pulled on his hoodie and stepped out of the gym, stopping for a moment to get his bearings, when a man standing on the sidewalk near the entrance of the gym catches his eye. He's tall, with dark hair swept up from his forehead and wearing a worn-out leather jacket. Something about him and the way he's standing there with his hands in his pockets looks familiar, though, as if Blaine's met him before or knows him from somewhere.

The man seems to notice him and steps out from the shadows, his face finally lit up by the low evening sun, and Blaine freezes, his hand unconsciously tightening around the strap of his gym bag.

“Cooper,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” Cooper says awkwardly, giving a small wave with his hand and taking another nervous step towards Blaine.

Blaine stays still, fighting against the urge to turn around and walk away. He was having such a good day, and now his brother, whom he hasn't seen in years, is suddenly standing in front of him, looking a little older but otherwise just the same as he did the last time they were actually face to face. “How... What are you doing here, Cooper?”

“What, I can't come see my little brother?” Cooper jokes, spreading his arms even if his expression is still more nervous than Blaine has ever seen it before.

“Don't,” Blaine bites out, taking a step away from him. It's too much, too overwhelming to see Cooper after all those years, after all those unanswered phone calls and politely distant birthday cards. “Just– don't,” he repeats, quieter. “If you only came here to pretend like nothing's happened and everything is okay between us, you might as well walk away right now.”

Cooper's smile falls, his arms dropping down. “Blaine...”

“What are you doing here?” Blaine asks again, lifting his bag more securely on his shoulder. A few passers-by walk past them, and god, this whole situation feels so awkward, like an unrehearsed set-up here in the middle of a sidewalk in downtown New York. “I thought you hated New York,” he adds. I thought you hated me goes unsaid.

Cooper runs a hand through his hair. “I talked to mom a few days ago and she let it slip that you're getting married. I didn't even know you'd gotten engaged, Blainey,” he adds with a small smile.

Blaine frowns at the old nickname, running his thumb over the silver ring on his left hand. “That was months ago,” he says, keeping his voice even. “I've been engaged for over six months already.”

“Congratulations,” Cooper offers, his hands twitching like he wants to shake Blaine's hand or hug him. “I... I went to your apartment, because I had the address, but the guy who opened the door–”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupts. “His name is Kurt.”

“The fiancé?” Cooper asks, making another attempt at a smile, and after Blaine nods, continues, “He said that you weren't home and when I told him that I was your brother, he... Um. He kind of looked at me like he didn't know whether he wanted to punch me or slam the door to my face?”

Blaine's mouth twitches with a smile before he fights it off.

“Then after we talked for a while and I convinced him that I had good intentions,” Cooper goes on, “he told me where I could find you.” He gestures at the gym. “So... Here we are.”

“That still doesn't tell me what you're doing here,” Blaine says after a moment. His clothes are starting to smell all sweaty and disgusting and he just wants to go home, take a shower and hold Kurt, and he honestly doesn't have time for Cooper right now, not unless he's actually here for a proper reason. “So why are you here, Cooper?”

Cooper shuffles his feet. “I... I came here to talk. Remember when I called you all those months ago and said I wanted to talk?”

Blaine nods again, clenching his jaw.

“I still want to talk,” Cooper says quietly, and god, damn him and his stupidly earnest face, a sure sign that he's actually serious and not just pretending to be. “Can we talk, Squirt? Please?”

“Don't call me that,” Blaine answers, the response coming automatically even after all these years.

“Blaine, then,” Cooper corrects himself. “Can we talk, Blaine? Please. Just... five minutes. That's all I'm asking.”

Blaine runs his hand through his own sweaty hair. He does feel disgusting and tired, but this is also the first time he's seen his brother in years, and something in Cooper's face looks different now – as if he's really here to have a serious conversation and not to just mock Blaine's profession or throw empty words at him. It's hard for Blaine to say no to people, especially to people he cares about, and no matter how hard he tries not to, he still cares about Cooper. Always has. He's still his brother, the one who sang Duran Duran with him when they were little and sat at his bedside after Sadie Hawkins.

The one who said he was no good on the day he got hired by the FBI.

“Fine,” Blaine sighs, looking away when Cooper's whole expression lights up at the word. “But not here,” he adds. “There's a coffee shop around the corner, we can go there and you can...” He shrugs, not meeting Cooper's eyes. “... Talk.”

“That's fine, t-that's better than fine, really,” Cooper babbles.

Blaine turns around abruptly without another word and starts walking towards the coffee shop, trusting that Cooper will follow him. He pulls his phone from his pocket to distract himself for a while and notices a text message from Kurt that has arrived just a few minutes ago:

From Kurt:
I love you. And I really hope I did the right thing.

---

They get coffee and sit down at a mostly secluded table in the corner of the coffee shop. Cooper doesn't start talking right away and instead just plays with the lid of his coffee cup, frowning down at it as if it holds all the secrets of the universe and all the instructions to repair their relationship – assuming that that's what Cooper wants. Perhaps he's here just to tell Blaine that he still thinks he's wasting his life at the FBI and that his whole life is a joke.

Blaine zips up his hoodie all the way, shivering now that he's not moving anymore, and takes a sip of his coffee, looking around the coffee shop. He's not really sure if he can look at Cooper for longer than a few seconds without feeling too upset. The silence is awkward between them, even more awkward than it was on the sidewalk, but Blaine's not going to be the one to break it. Cooper said he wanted to talk, so he might as well talk.

“You...” Cooper starts all of a sudden, glancing up from his coffee. “You still working for the FBI?”

Blaine tenses, putting his coffee cup down on the table and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he answers tersely. He's wearing a hoodie that has the words FBI ACADEMY printed right over his heart, so it should be obvious, but Cooper's never been too observant about things like that. He does keep staring at him, however, so Blaine sighs and elaborates, “I got a promotion some time ago, actually.”

“Oh?” Cooper gives a small smile. “What's your official title now, then?”

“Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge,” Blaine says automatically, reaching for his coffee cup again, just to have something to do with his hands. “It basically means that I supervise the White Collar Division and its teams,” he explains when Cooper just raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, wow.” Cooper gives a nervous laugh, still fiddling with his own cup. “Aren't you still a bit young for a job like that?”

Blaine looks away and scoffs. He downs the rest of his coffee in one gulp, not caring about the way it burns his throat as it goes down, and moves to stand up. “You know, if that's all you wanted to talk about, Cooper, it was really nice seeing you but I'm–”

“No, wait– Blaine, stop,” Cooper pleads, reaching out and grabbing Blaine's arm. Blaine freezes at the touch. “That– That came out wrong, okay?” Cooper continues, staring at Blaine. “Please sit down? I didn't mean it like that, I swear.”

“Then what did you mean by it?” Blaine asks, trying to keep his voice calm as he shakes Cooper's hand off.

“I meant that it's kind of amazing you're in such a high position at the freaking FBI when you're still relatively young,” Cooper explains, his gaze still fixed on Blaine. “I meant that... That that's great, Blaine. That I'm happy for you.”

Blaine blinks. “What?” he asks incredulously.

“Look, I know that I haven't been a really good big brother in years,” Cooper says, “and I know that I said things that were just... not cool, at all, but I'm– I'm here now. If you'll let me explain.”

Blaine considers him for a while, and then gives a small nod, settling down in the chair again. He doesn't even know why he hasn't walked out of the coffee shop yet, but something in Cooper's voice is keeping him here, something that sounds a lot like the big brother he remembers from his childhood. He's not getting his hopes up too high, but he does want an explanation. He deserves to know why his career at the FBI was such an issue for Cooper.

“Thank you,” Cooper breathes out. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Blaine, I...” He lets out a small laugh, running his hand through his hair again, a nervous tell Blaine remembers too well. “I don't even know where to begin.”

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “You could start by telling me why you couldn't support me with my career,” he says, barely managing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “That's the crux of this whole thing, isn't it?”

Cooper looks down. “Well, to be honest... I was scared. No, screw that, I was terrified.”

Blaine frowns. “Of what?”

“Of what?” Cooper laughs, the sound choked-off. “You went to Quantico, Blainey. You were training to become an FBI agent. My little brother was going to work with things that could get him hurt or kidnapped or... killed, and I was terrified, okay? I thought it was just some phase, something you needed to get out of your system, but–”

“That's why you told me I was no good?” Blaine interrupts, his voice rising. “That's the only reason why you decided to forget that you had a brother? You were scared I would get hurt on the job when every freaking job has its risks?”

“I was worried you were going to forget about me!” Cooper yells all of a sudden, the sound echoing through the coffee shop, making a few teenagers sitting near their table jump in surprise.

Blaine startles back, staring at Cooper with his eyes wide open.

“You were so serious about Quantico and becoming an agent,” Cooper continues, lowering his voice and leaning over the table between them, “it was basically all you ever talked about, and I... I was so worried that when you became an agent we would have nothing in common, you know? I mean, acting and music and all those things, they helped us actually be brothers when we were kids, they helped us have something to talk about, and with them gone–”

“But I never stopped liking music,” Blaine interrupts, puzzled. “And it was never about you, Cooper. Being an FBI agent was my dream, it was what I wanted to do. It had nothing to do with you. Youre the one who forgot about me,” he cant help but add, feeling the old bitterness lifting its head.

Cooper makes an exasperated noise at the back of his throat. “I know, okay? I have a huge ego and I make everything about myself, okay, I know that, I know that I was really stupid back then – but I really was scared, Blaine,” he repeats, emphasizing his words with his hands. “I was terrified that I was either going to lose you to your big serious FBI job and we'd never be brothers again, or that I'd lose you to some gun-crazy criminal who decided to shoot my brother in the middle of a case.”

“So you told me I was no good,” Blaine finishes slowly, staring at Cooper. He's not sure if he completely understands Cooper's line of thought, but that's not exactly anything new.

“I've never really been good at dealing with fear or uncertainty,” Cooper replies, giving a weak smile. “And then we had that stupid fight and I thought that fine, alright, he's already giving up on his stupid B-rate brother with a silly job–”

“Cooper...” Blaine says softly, relaxing his arms, realization finally dawning on him.

“– and then I pretended that you didn't want me in your life and I didn't need you in mine for years,” Cooper finishes. “Until Jessica – she's, um, she's my girlfriend – was going through my old photos and found a picture of us. She didn't even know I had a brother, so she asked me about you and I let it all out. And somehow the only thing she got from it all was that I... I missed you, so she told me to call you.”

“And I hung up on you,” Blaine says, remembering the phone conversation Kurt walked in on.

Cooper shrugs. “You had every right to do that. I was a jerk to you.”

“I haven't been exactly too nice to you either,” Blaine counters quietly, looking down and playing with the hem of his hoodie. As a kid he always thought Cooper was unstoppable, practically a superman who knew everything about anything and was loved by everyone, but now hes starting to realize that with his acting career Cooper might have actually felt like the black sheep of their family. “I mean, no matter what I'm doing with my life or you're doing with yours," he goes on, "you are still my brother.”

Cooper looks up, surprised. “I am?”

“Of course you are,” Blaine answers, furrowing his brows in confusion. “You'll always be my brother. Growing up and getting a– what did you call it, a big serious job isn't going to change that.”

Cooper gives a sad smile, looking down. “I always knew you were going to be something great, Blaine. I just... I just kept thinking that it would be in a field where I could actually support you and help you and we'd have something in common, and then...”

“I don't have to be a musician or an actor for you to be able to support me,” Blaine says quietly. The ache of not having his brother in his life for years feels suddenly more present than it ever has before, and for the first time he thinks he actually understands why Kurt broke out of prison when he only had a few weeks left of his sentence.

“I know that now,” Cooper says, staring at Blaine as if he's trying to make him understand. “It took me years to realize it because apparently I'm kind of a doofus when it comes to things like this – Jessica's words, not mine,” he adds, lifting his eyebrows, and Blaine smiles back at him before Cooper sobers. “I'm... sorry, though. I'm really sorry for everything stupid I've done, Blainey. When mom called and told me you're getting married, I just... I knew I had to come see you. I couldn't let you get married thinking that I hated you or didn't care about you. Because that was never the truth, okay?”

Blaine blinks his eyes a few times, looking away. “I– I know you're being serious because you weren't pointing your finger at me or speaking really loudly to be intense.”

Cooper laughs, the kind of laugh that Blaine remembers from his childhood, the one Cooper always gave when Blaine was teasing him. “I'm not acting, so pointing would be kind of useless,” Cooper says, reaching out to playfully punch Blaine's shoulder over the table.

Blaine lets out a laugh of his own, dropping his arms down to his lap. “So are you... Are you going back to LA tomorrow, Mr. Hollywood, or...?”

“You know,” Cooper says slowly, moving his gaze to the ceiling and tapping his chin with his index finger, “I thought it'd be nice to stay in New York for a few days. Hang out with my baby brother, get to know him a little better, talk properly, the works. I mean, I gotta meet this fiancé of his as well, with proper introductions and all.” He looks down, the old bravado slipping away for a moment. “How does... Would that be okay?”

Blaine smiles. It's not perfect, and all the issues and fights between them are definitely not solved yet, not with just one conversation – but it's a chance. It's not a generic birthday card or an unanswered phone call, or even an awkward meeting in a family reunion where they both avoid each other for hours and only exchange polite greetings. His big brother is here, making an effort and willing to work for it.

He has missed this. He has missed Cooper.

“I'd... I'd like that, Coop,” Blaine says softly.

Cooper's eyes widen at the nickname, but then his face breaks into an infectious grin. “Great! So are we gonna get more coffee or not?”

---

Later that night Kurt startles awake when Blaine crawls into bed next to him, blinking his eyes open and turning to face him, his hair mussed and his hands automatically reaching out for Blaine.

“Hey,” Blaine says and leans to kiss him, nuzzling his nose against Kurt's cheek.

“Mmm, hi,” Kurt replies, smiling sleepily. “You smell like my bodywash.”

“I ran out of mine,” Blaine explains and settles down on the bed, wrapping his arms around Kurt.

“How was...” Kurt starts, stopping and then starting again. “I didn't overstep or anything, did I?” he asks hesitantly.

Blaine shakes his head, smiling against Kurt's chest. “No, you did the right thing. Thank you.” He lifts his head and meets Kurt's searching gaze. “Would you like to have dinner with your brother-in-law tomorrow?”

Kurt smiles, his eyes shining, and leans in to kiss Blaine's forehead. “I'll whip up some canapés if you wash the dishes.”

Blaine laughs, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder. “Deal.”