When they got there, Blaine slid into the usual cracked, teal vinyl booth with Brittany close behind. She cuddled up close to him, both her hands wrapped around his forearm, as the head waitress Janice smoothly skated up to their table.

"Hey, kiddos. Had too much learnin' for one day?" She asked, popping her bubblegum. Janice was tiny, in her mid to late 50s and had short, unruly curls touched with whips of lavender dye. She often sang along loudly to the songs on the PA system, starting impromptu performances among the Skanks and snuck the kids extra fries free of charge. To put it bluntly, she was probably the coolest adult in all of Lima, Ohio.

"Yeah. I can only take so much gabbing after a few days," Blaine answered. Brittany nodded enthusiastically in agreement and smiled up at Janice, scrunching her nose. Janice smiled back at the girl and laughed at her playfulness, reaching out her hand and tapping Britt on the tip of the nose with her order pen.

"You want the usual?" Janice asked, a smile still lingering on her lips as Brittany snuggled closer to Blaine's side.

"Yeah," Blaine replied, wrapping a warm arm around Brittany's side. "With extra fries, please. Britt's had a rough few days." Janice looked worried, questions in her eyes, but she didn't say anything in front of Brittany, knowing it would be a touchy subject. Blaine returned her look with an expression that said "I'll explain some other time." Janice sped off and relayed their order to the cook behind the warming queue.

"I have to use the bathroom," Brittany said, scooting out of the booth.

"I'll be here when you get back, Bee," Blaine answered, swatting Brittany's ass playfully as she walked away.

Not ten seconds after Brittany disappeared into the bathroom, the bell at the front door jingled and Quinn and Santana walked in, animatedly talking about music.

"I'm just sayin', Amy Winehouse isn't that bad. Plus, she had that whole, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll attitude, which is hardly ever a bad thing," Santana was saying as the two girls walked automatically to the booth, knowing where to go even without having looked for the other two.

"She's trashy," was all Quinn said, sliding into the booth across from Blaine, Santana right behind her.

"Oh, and The Sex Pistols are posh and polished?" Santana said, a sassy smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, shut up. They're different."

"No. Actually, they aren't."

Quinn just rolled her eyes, finally looking away from Santana and smiling at Blaine.

"What do you think, Bubba?" She asked, playfully kicking his shin under the table.

"Hey, no. I'm not getting in the middle of this. Fight your own battles, woman," he said, kicking back. Quinn just rolled her eyes again.

"Hi!" All three of them looked across the room to see Brittany racing up. She was all smiles and giggles again. That girl had more energy than the rest of them combined. "Where's Puck?" She asked, sitting in the booth next to Santana and throwing her arms around her, nuzzling her shoulder affectionately.

"Hey Q, come sit by me," Blaine said and Santana and Brittany got up to let Quinn switch sides. "But yeah, where is Pops?"

"He got held up and then Ms. Fletcher walked him to second period to make sure he went to class. We waited outside for like, ever, and he eventually texted Santana to let us know." Quinn answered, taking the fake flower out of the vase against the wall and twirling it between her fingers.

"Lame," Blaine and Brittany said simultaneously.

"Jinx! You owe me a soda," Brittany said, giddy with the excitement of having remembered to say jinx before Blaine. He saw it coming, and new it would make her happy to win, so he didn't say anything.

"Fine," Blaine said, smiling at Britt. "Just let me know when."

Just then, the cell phone in Blaine's jean pocket went off with a text alert. Before he got a chance, Quinn was already fishing in his pocket for the phone.

She looked at the name and frowned with confusion. "It's Rachel. Since when does she text you?"

"What the fuck?" Blaine said, mostly to himself. His older sister never bothered to talk to him. She had gone off to business college two years ago, and the only time he ever heard from her was when she was home for holidays.

He took the phone from Quinn's hand and opened the message.

"I'm home. Surprise! Not going back. Thought I should warn you, Dad and Daddy aren't too pleased. xoxo Rach"

"She said xoxo," was all Blaine said. It was so out of character that it was all he could take away from the message at first.

"Is that all she said?" Santana laughed.

"Well, no," Blaine said. His brain was still a little clouded from the confusion. "No, she said she came home. Like, she's already home and she's not going back. What the fuck? I'm so confused."

Quinn looked at him closely, trying to find something other than confusion in his face. She thought she saw fleeting worry flash in his eyes and wrinkle his brow, but it was brief.

"Maybe you should go home, Bub," she said, gently placing her hand on his forearm. "Figure out what's going on. You can tell us later."

"Yeah. Okay," Blaine answered, distant and obviously still confused. He put his phone back in his pocket and pulled out a 20 dollar bill. "Lunch is on me, ladies. I'll fill you in by tomorrow morning, at least." He smiled and shifted out of the booth behind Quinn.

"Love you, Blaine!" Brittany all but shouted as he walked away. He turned on his heel and smiled at his friends. "Love you too, Britt Britt. All of you. Fill Papa in when you get a chance." And he walked out to his bike.

-----

Dinner at the Berry residence that night was tense. It was weird having Rachel back and knowing she wasn't going back to school after the weekend. There was uncomfortable silence surrounding the entire dinner table and after awhile, Rachel did her best to break the tension with questions about Glee club and her dads' work with the ACLU. Rachel explained, with much difficulty, that she was having trouble trying to find a job and that she needed to come home for cheap housing. Her dads just grunted, nodding and looking slightly less angry and more sympathetic. After the meal, Rachel announced that she'd do the dishes. Blaine offered to help, trying anything to lessen the tension in the house and make his dads happy.

While they were finishing the last of the dishes, Rachel turned to where her brother was feeding the dog scraps and asked, "Wanna hang out for a bit? Catch-up?"

Blaine was a little confused. They didn't hang out. They didn't 'catch-up.' What was new?

"Sure," he answered even though he couldn't figure out why his sister could possibly want to hang out. Hermy yapped and wagged her tail cheerfully as if saying 'Hey dad! Annoying female-human wants to be your friend!' He patted her head and scratched behind her ears, then opened the slider door, throwing an old dog bone out the door for her to fetch.

They put away the last couple plates and stray utensils and Blaine ushered Rachel down the stairs to his basement bedroom.

"It's different down here," Rachel stated, oddly surprised.

"Rach, I grew out of the cheesy fairytale kingdom wallpaper years ago," Blaine laughed. He gestured to the desk chair but Rachel chose instead to pull the covers up on Blaine's bed and plop down on the mattress. He didn't know why, but it bothered him.

There was about 30 seconds of pregnant silence, a hundred unasked questions floating in the space between them. Rachel ran a hand through her long, chestnut brown hair and Blaine sat precariously on the edge of the other side of the bed when he suddenly blurted out, "Why didn't you tell anyone you were coming back?"

Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes slightly, as if the answer was obvious. "I was scared. I didn't want our dads to be disappointed that I couldn't make it outside school."

"But you're the star child. They adore you. Nothing you could do could disappoint them." Blaine looked down into his lap, folding his hands, still feeling uneasy.

"But don't you see? Because I'm the favored child," she paused to give him an apologetic look, "disappointing them would only be that much worse. And because I'm the favored child, they'd probably end up taking it out on you."

Blaine shook his head, only barely understanding, but understanding nonetheless. He didn't want to admit it though; his sister was right, in some twisted way. His dads weren't abusive at all, but they did get angry and sometimes they'd take their tension and anger out by grounding Blaine for little things. Like forgetting to lock the door when he left the house or letting Hermy track mud in through the back door.

Rachel was quiet for a moment, trying to gauge Blaine's reaction to what she had said. She knew something was going on in his head but she couldn't place it so she went on.

"How have you been, anyway?" She asked. "We hardly ever talked while I was gone." She folded her legs up beneath herself and grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed to hold in her lap, getting comfortable.

"We didn't talk much before you left, Rach," Blaine reminded her. "In fact, this is kinda weird." They had never had that kind of relationship. The kind where they sat up all night talking about everything and nothing, and eating ice cream out of the tub or singing together. Hell, they hardly ever watched movies together as kids, because Rachel could never decide between The Iron Giant and Aladdin. Anyway, Blaine's favorite princess had been Ariel; he couldn't be bothered with Jasmine.

Rachel looked a little hurt. "Can we, maybe... Could we start now?" She asked, suddenly awkwardly bashful, picking at a fraying hole in her jeans.

Blaine shook his head and laughed a little. They had both grown a lot in the short time that his sister had been away at college. Rachel never seemed to care much what or how Blaine was doing but now seemed like as good a time as any to become friends, if that's what they were doing. He could see a change in Rachel, somewhere, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Maybe she had finally just... Grown up.

"Sure," Blaine said, smiling. Rachel's face broke into a wide grin, as if she had been waiting for this moment forever - - waiting for her little brother to let her in. "You're ridiculous," Blaine said, laughing at her enthusiasm.

"I resent that statement," she countered, throwing the pillow in her lap at Blaine's head. He threw it back and they both laughed. It was musical, somehow, the way they laughed together. Their separate laughter fit weirdly, harmonizing in a way only laughter can, as if they were blood-related. It threw Blaine off-guard, but Rachel didn't seem to notice as she placed the pillow back in her lap and wrapped her arms around it, bringing it up to her chest.

"How have you been though, Blainey?" Rachel asked, soft and sincere, bringing back his childhood nickname. She looked into Blaine's eyes, hoping to find answers before Blaine could use words.

"I've been okay, Rach," he answered, dramatically falling backward onto the bed and clasping his hands behind his head. "School's still monotonous and repetitive. Still in Glee club. Still skip school on a regular basis to hang out at Mickey's. Still smoking--"

Rachel cut him off, "I really wish you'd quit, Blaine. That stuff's horrible for you."

"Really? I wasn't aware," Blaine snapped, sarcasm dripping from the four tiny words. He regretted them as soon as they came out, seeing the mixture of shock and hurt on his sister's face. Shame invaded his chest as he searched for words to fix it. "Hey, Rach, I'm sorry. That just came out. I have to be bitchy at school and sometimes it overflows into home. I didn't... I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just my first reaction." He put his hand on Rachel's knee. It was awkward and uncomfortable but he didn't know what else to do. They hugged a lot when they were younger but as soon as Rachel started finding Blaine annoying, right about the time she turned nine, all bets were off. No hugging, no hanging out, and no talking without fighting. They hadn't been more than just siblings for a long time. "I'll try to quit if it means that much to you. It's just really difficult."

"Thanks, Blaine," she said. There was still hurt in her eyes but she smiled, trying to hide the pain she still felt. She was trying so hard to be his friend again.

There was an awkward silence, the sound of a clock somewhere ticking and Blaine continued. "But yeah... Same ol', same ol'. Things are a little tense with my friends. Well, at school in general, really. Santana's gotten extra mean over the last few months and tiny things will set her off. Things have been rocky at Quinn's house, too. I try to bring her here as often as possible, just to get her away, but she doesn't like leaving JJ at home with their parents so she always finds any and every excuse to go home. One time she told me she thought she left her hair straightener on and she just walked out without a backward glance. I try to bring JJ here too sometimes, but his school schedule is so different and even though the Fabray's don't really care about him, they'll try to claw your eyes out if you try to take him. One time Judy actually jumped on my back. It was terrifying."

He looked up at Rachel and saw that she looked worried, but it didn't shock him. Anyone who knew of the Fabray's would be worried after what he had just said. It was common Lima knowledge that Russel and Judy Fabray were anything but good people. They were obvious alcoholics with the inability to hold jobs or provide for their two children. The inside of their house was rumored to be a pigsty and unfortunately, Blaine could attest to that rumor. Quinn tried to keep it clean and JJ helped as much as possible but the Fabray adults could hardly turn on a faucet, let alone clean up their messes. Garbage littered the floor and because of the broken windows, there were often leaves, glass, bugs and the like floating around as well. To anyone who didn't know the Fabray family lived there, it would look like an abandoned house frequented by Lima's homeless population. With Quinn and JJ trying to stay away as often as possible, the only semi-clean rooms in the house were their bedrooms.

"You still hang out with her?" Rachel whispered, worry creasing her forehead and turning down the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah, Rach. She's been my best friend for like, twelve years now. She's like family, all my friends are. I love her."

"You... What?" Rachel no longer looked worried, just confused.

"Oh, God, Rachel. No." Blaine laughed, realizing why she looked so confused. "I didn't 'turn straight' while you were gone. Still same old gay me. Quinn's just my friend. My best friend, and I love her like a sister."

Rachel nodded, the confusion melting from her face. "Good."

"Good?" Blaine laughed again, rolling onto his side and bending his elbow to prop his head on his upturned hand.

"I just..." Rachel started, seemingly unable to find the words for what she wanted to say. "I knew you were a flaming homosexual before you could even speak properly. I could never keep you out of my dolls, or my trucks, for that matter, and you always gravitated to the girls when we went to the park. Plus, there were more than a few times, as kids, that I noticed you ogling other boys. Maybe you weren't going to be straight-up gay, but you weren't straight." Rachel took a moment to breathe, and Blaine looked at her inquisitively. "I just don't want you to pretend you're something you're not, just because other people might not understand it."

"Rach..." Blaine started and then laughed a bit. "Girl, you don't gotta worry about me," he said, bringing out his clich� gay voice. "But really. I wouldn't pretend to be someone I'm not to save my life."

"Really?" Rachel asked doubtfully. He knew exactly what she was referring to.

"School's different, Rach. Plus, I just seem like a badass because my friends are badasses. I don't actually have to do anything. I just let people think what they want, and I avoid letting them believe different. I mean, Britt's literally the sweetest, most selfless person in all of Lima, but nobody messes with her because they know we're her friends. It's the same thing with me."

"Okay," Rachel said, drawing at the word and still looking doubtful.

"Rachel. I am queer as a football bat and every single person at McKinley is 100 percent aware of the fact. I'm not hiding in the closet. Our dads taught us that there is nothing wrong with being yourself and I'm in full support of that idea. Trust me." He reassuringly put his free hand on Rachel's knee again. This time it wasn't so awkward, and she actually seemed kind of comforted.

"I believe you. What's going on at school? You said something about it being tense or something," Rachel said, looking curious and a bit worried.

"Oh, just... The Cheerios. They've progressively gotten more and more aggressive since you left. And we haven't done anything to provoke them. Well, Santana might be a little extra snarky lately, but nothing to deserve the treatment we've been receiving. And it's not just us. The other kids, particularly the Glee club kids, have been getting regular early morning slushie facials. That Cohen-Chang bitch is the devil reincarnate."

Rachel's brow furrowed in thought. "I'll talk to Kurt. I meant to call him before I came home but things just got so hectic."

Kurt Hummel. Tina's right-hand bitch and Rachel's high school best friend. They had met Rachel's senior year when she had been cheer captain and Kurt had joined the squad as a lanky, awkward sophomore. He was one of the few other students at school who was openly queer. Not only was Kurt open, though, he flaunted his sexuality, flirting with every guy within a ten mile radius. Blaine hated him solely for the fact that he was basically everything that gave the queer community a bad rap.

Kurt had grown into his limbs in the last two years though and now he was lean instead of lanky, and confident instead of awkward. He had dusty, light brown hair that never seemed to be out of place, even at the end of a cheer routine, and bright, piercing blue eyes mixed with yellowy-hazel. He ass looked so fantastic in those ugly, red polyester cheer pants that Blaine often noticed straight boys staring. He was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that there were times he found himself watching Kurt from across a classroom or the hallway. He would never say this out loud, not to his sister and definitely not to his friends. If archenemies existed, Kurt would be one of Blaine's, just by association.

"Blaine?" Rachel asked, waving her hand in front of Blaine's face.

"Yeah? Sorry. Just spacing." Blaine looked down, blood rushing to his face, irrationally worrying that Rachel could see right through him, knowing he had been thinking about Kurt's ass in red polyester.

"Not a big deal, little bro. I was thinking about making cupcakes. Wanna help?" She asked throwing the pillow she held back to the head of the bed and standing. She clasping her hand behind her back and stretched.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. What kind?" Blaine asked, sitting up and stretching as well.

"Gold star, of course," Rachel answered, winking.

"Of course," Blaine laughed. "I think there's still some edible gold dust somewhere in the back of the baking cabinet."

"Good, we'll need it," Rachel said, pulling Blaine off the bed. "C'mon."