It's surprisingly hard, to have to spend a long weekend apart barely three days after they got back together again, and if Blaine hadn't intensely disliked Thanksgiving before he certainly does now. Because he feels like he's on cloud nine, feels like singing in the shower and dancing through the house, but he'll be damned if he tells his parents anything more personal than the date of his next final, let alone that he's started dating again. And so he doesn't - instead locks himself away in his room as often as is socially acceptable and tries to focus on his paper for Child Development, or even to just get some reading done.

He barely makes it two days.

11-23-2012 11:20-Please tell me we can go for coffee tomorrow. Or today. Or, you know, right now.

11-23-2012 11:25-That bad?

11-23-2012 11:26-Worse. My mum keeps fussing over me, and my dad HUGGED me.

11-23-2012 11:28-...
11-23-2012 11:29-Sounds like my dad and Carole. In that order.

11-23-2012 11:32-You don't understand. They never do this. It's awkward.
11-23-2012 11:32-I wish they would go back to ignoring me.
11-23-2012 11:45-Save me. Please?

11-23-2012 11:49-My dad needs me to run some errands with him but I should be able to make it by 3, if that works?

11-23-2012 11:50-Lima Bean? For old times' sake?

11-23-2012 11:53-You're a dork.

11-23-2012 11:57-I'll take that as a yes.

11-23-2012 12:05-;)
11-23-2012 12:06-Love you.

11-23-2012 12:06-Love you too.

.

With a small sigh, Blaine puts down his phone and grabs a sweater before he makes his way downstairs. He kind of skipped breakfast, not too enthusiastic about the idea of sharing another meal with his parents, but he's pretty sure they will be out by now, visiting neighbors,or maybe his grandparents.

Admittedly, it hasn'tbeen as bad as he's made it out to be - although his dad's hug hadbeen strange. As Gary had predicted, their parents seem to have genuinely missed him and Blaine isn't sure exactly how to handle it. Over the years, the three of them had come to some sort of agreement - they left him alone, and he left them alone, and it was an arrangement that had suited him just fine. But now they had been actively trying to involve him in the conversation, asking him about New York and his studies and his friends. Even if Blaine hadn't been raised to be the polite and well-mannered man he is, the looks on Gary's face had made sure that any putative thoughts of not participating in the conversation had flown straight out of the window, making Blaine strongly suspect his brother had something to do with their parents' sudden interest in him and his life. And although it had made dinner time go by just a little faster, it had made things a lot more awkward as well. Almost four years of non-communication tended to have that effect on people.

Blaine startles when he enters the kitchen, not expecting to find his dad sitting there, reading the paper at the kitchen table, and he has to resist the urge toturn around and goback up. He finally decides not too, though - his parents have invited him over, after all, and so he has as much a right to be here as they have.

Well, that, and he's hungry.

He mumbles a 'good morning' when he passes his dad -loud enough so as to be polite but not so loud as to invite a conversation- and makes his way to the fridge. There are still plenty of leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner, and Blaine takes out a couple of bowls, working in silence to prepare a cold lunch he can take upstairs with him.

"Did you sleep well?"

The unexpected question makes Blaine's head jerk up, and he has to fight to suppress the feeling of agitation at the mere fact that his dad has breached their unspoken agreement of silence once again. Things were so much easier when they didn't talk, he thinks not for the first time, but he can't not answer.

"I did," he replies, keeping his tone neutral. "Of course, it always takes getting used to sleeping away from home."

It comes out a little more defiantly than he intended it to, but his dad doesn't visibly react to the obvious implication.

"Glad to hear that," he says instead, not even looking up from his newspaper. "So, can we expect to see Kurt here this weekend? I hear you've started dating again."

Blaine blanches, and he only just manages to not drop the spoon he's holding. It's payback for his remark about 'home', he realizes immediately, and he makes a mental note to make it clear to Gary he does not appreciate him giving their dad ammunition like this.

"I don't think so," he says, determined not to let out how shocked he is, "he's very busy. But I'll be seeing him later today; I will make sure to ask." He doesn't actually have any intention of bringing Kurt to see his parents, but his dad doesn't need to know that. "I'll let him know you said 'hi'."

"Please do."

With that, the conversation seems to be over, and before his dad can start a new topic of conversation Blaine quickly puts the foil back over the bowls, returning them to the fridge so he can grab his plate, anxious to get back to his room. But when he glances over at the man sitting behind the table, still reading the newspaper and looking as if the conversation they've just had is a daily occurrence, something stirs in him.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he blurts out, and he almost immediately wants to bite his tongue. Hadn't his goal been to minimize contact with his parents? But it's too late now.

"Do what?" his dad asks, looking up and sounding a little taken aback.

"This," Blaine gestures between the two of them. "Chit-chat. Pretending like you care."

"What makes you say I'm pretending?"

His dad has finally put down the paper, and there's a strange look in his eyes - curious, and honestly interested in Blaine's answer, but guarded, too, aware this is the closest to an actual conversation they've been in years, afraid he might blow it.

Or maybe that's Blaine reading into things too much.

"Because you've never cared before," he answers, because as harsh as it sounds, that's how it's always been, for Blaine. "Because I know you're really ashamed of me."

He feels strangely exposed when he sees his dad fold his arms, leaning back into his chair to look Blaine over, his head slightly cocked to the side, and for a split second, he reminds Blaine of Kurt, the way he can seize a person up without really revealing what he thinks of them.

"You graduated from Dalton at the top of your class," his dad starts. "You applied tosix universities and got into five of them. You'll be applying for the Honors Program next spring and are very likely to get accepted. You sing with a small cover band that has built a nice reputation for itself in only a short amount of time. You volunteer at your community center. You've recently started dating someone you care for deeply, and have cared for for a long time, someone who's already made an impression in the fashion world despite still being in school. I don't see any reason to be ashamed of you, Blaine, on the contrary."

To say Blaine is baffled would be an understatement. He knows Gary talks to their parents about him -of course he does-, but somehow he has always assumed those conversations don't go any further than 'Blaine's doing ok too'.

Apparently, they do.

Apparently, it makes his parents proud of him.

And it makes his blood boil.

Because how dare they - how dare they turn their backs on him when he fails, let him figure things out all by himself but then when he succeeds on his own account take the credit for it because look what a brilliant son they raised! They lost that right. They lost the right to be proud of him years ago.

"When I was sixteen I went behind everyone's backs and fucked a guy I didn't even know," he tells his dad, not even trying to hide the fact he's trying to shock him. "I was stupid enough not to use protection and even more stupid not to tell anyone who could've helped me. I got infected with HIV, bringing disgrace to my family who didn't even know I was gay. In addition to the medical costs incurred I forced my parents to pay for an expensive private boarding school and an extra year in high school because I got in too many fights at my old school. Just six months ago I had drunk, unprotected sex again, putting my then-boyfriend at risk of HIV infection because I'd been too much of a coward to tell him the truth before. I'd say there are plenty of reasons to be ashamed of me."

He's slightly out of breath by the time he finishes talking, and his dad seems to be as speechless as Blaine was two minutes ago, looking at Blaine as if he's not sure how to respond to that outburst, but Blaine simply stares back, defying him, daringhis dad to claim that what he has just said isn't true.

He doesn't.

With a huff of annoyance, Blaine takes his plate, making for the door to the hall. But he hasn't even made it halfway when his dad's voice makes him stop.

"I was 39 when I was told my youngest son was HIV positive," his dad says quietly behind him. "He seroconverted after unprotected sex with another boy. He had never even told us he was gay. Neither me nor my wife knew how to deal with his illness, and we were told not to make a fuss about it, that he would come to us when he wanted to talk. But just like he had never trusted us enough to tell us he was gay, he never came, never told us about the abuse he was going through at school. We only found out when it was too late. So when he asked us to transfer to another school we were happy to comply, happy there was finally something we could dofor him. But even though his new school wasn't that far away, he rarely took the opportunity to come home. Instead of confronting him aboutit we let him do as he wanted, estranging him from us even more. I'd say there are plenty of reasons to be ashamed of us, too."

When Blaine turns around he sees his dad look up from where he was staring at his hands. He doesn't seem upset, or even remotely emotional, like he's just been reciting facts, but Blaine recognizes a mask when he sees one - he's been wearing one himself for the longest time.

"We failed, Blaine," his dad continues, looking straight at Blaine now. "We failed as parents by not providing you with an environment where you felt safe to come out. We failed as educators by not talking to you about sex when we knew you were at an age where you would want to experiment. We failed as counsellors by waiting for you to come to us instead of pro-actively talking to you ourselves. We failed. We know that. But when you don't reply to e-mails, when you never call back, when we need your brother to call in a personal favor to have you come home, ... there's only so much we can do. We're not asking for understanding, or even forgiveness, but I do want you to know we're not ashamed of you. You're our son, and we will always -always- love you."

-o0o-

"... and then he just walked out of the room," Blaine says heatedly. "Not another word. Like, who does he even think he is?"

Recounting the story hasn't made him any calmer -on the contrary even- and Blaine's not even sure why he's so angry - because of his dad's words, or because of the confusion they've caused.

"Well, he's your dad," Kurt tells him, looking at him with raised eyebrows over the rim of his coffee cup. "Why is it so weird he'd love you?"

Blaine glares at him.

"Because it is. He just... he doesn't get to say that to me anymore, all right? He doesn't get to just not talk to me for four years and then tell me that."

"We didn't talk for months and I still get to tell you that," Kurt retorts.

"Years, Kurt," Blaine says stubbornly. "Years. Besides, that was different - we still talked."

"Not about the things that mattered."

It's all Blaine can do to shoot Kurt another glare though, and Kurt sighs.

"Blaine, you said yourself you kind of stopped talking to them as well, didn't you?"

"They started it," Blaine says, face still sour, and his indignation only intensifies when he sees how Kurt has to keep himself from bursting out laughing.

"So before you were mad at them for not talking to you and now you're mad because they are talking to you? Come on, Blaine, what are you even? Five? Haven't you thought that maybe they really want to make it up to you? That maybe they're sorry for what happened and they want to start over?"

"Whatever," Blaine says dismissively, rolling his eyes, "they're going to have to do better than some half-hearted apology and a Thanksgiving turkey dinner if that's what they want."

"Sounded sincere enough if you ask me," Kurt shrugs, leaning back in his chaire. "And you kind of have to give them a chance too, you know?"

"Sjeesj - whose side are you even on?" Blaine spits out, slamming down his coffee on the table, though the soft thud of cardboard against formica hardly does anything to punctuate his words as it was supposed to. "You're my boyfriend, the least you can do is pretend to support me!"

Heads are turning but he couldn't care less, his attention focused on the man in front of him who, somehow, looks completely undisturbed by Blaine's outburst - and if he does look just the tiniest bit annoyed, it seems it is more directed at Blaine than at where it really should be: Blaine's parents.

"Blaine," Kurt starts, putting down his own coffee and folding his arms in front of him. "Do you remember the argument we had after your brother came to dinner? Do you remember I told you I felt silly for not being able to work past the whole HIV thing?"

"Of course I d- Kurt!"

Blaine leans forward, reaching out for Kurt, but when Kurt doesn't take his hand, he lets it fall limply on the table, palm facing upward, watching it unhappily before he turns back to Kurt.

"Kurt, I told you it took me years to really accept this, and sometimes I still struggle. So really, I understa-"

He lets the last words trail when he sees the way Kurt is watching him, his left eyebrow cocked judgmentally as he makes Blaine rethink his own words with that one single look.

"Kurt... ," he finally sighs, batting down his eyes as he settles back. "Kurt, they are my parents."

"And that -what- gives them superpowers or something?" Kurt sneers, although there is no real venom in his voice. "Blaine, I really don't know what you expect from them, but as I understand it you've never even actually talked to them about this. Don't you think it's just a little bit unfair to demand they be perfectly supportive from day one? Seriously, how would you react if your straight teenage son told you he got HIV after a one night stand with an older man?"

The words cut deep, but even though Blaine knows Kurt has a point, he's not quite ready to admitit yet. Because the memories haven't changed: his mother's haunted look, his father's silence - they still happened, they still hurt, and the fact that those might have been understandable reactions doesn't change that. If anything, it only makes it hurt more.

He looks up when he feels Kurt's hand slide into his own, and he smiles weakly when Kurt gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I get it, Blaine," Kurt says, watching their hands as their fingers lace together. "I do. But I really think you should give your parents a chance. You've already lost four years with them, isn't that enough?"

But Blaine just shakes his head.

"It's not that simple," he says resignedly. "It's not like I got detention for being caught smoking pot under the bleachers or something, you know. This is... it's not that simple."

"I know," Kurt says, taking a deep breath. "I know."

There's a sudden sadness in Kurt's voice, but it's the apprehensive undertone laced with it that makes Blaine look up, and he feels his stomach drop when he realizes Kurt's not just referring to Blaine's parents.

"Have you..." he starts hesitantly, "have you told-"

"No."

Kurt bites his lip, and when Blaine catches his gaze he can see the tears start pooling in the other man's eyes. He immediately shuffles closer, placing his free hand on top of their intertwined fingers to give them a comforting squeeze.

"Hey - it's all right..."

"No, it's not!" Kurt exclaims. The sudden reaction makes him lose his self-control just long enough for a tear to escape and roll down his cheek, and Blaine reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb, but Kurt ignores the gesture. "It's not all right!" he snaps instead, getting increasingly worked up. "It's not! I'm... I'm supposed to be proud to be with you - and I am, I really am, but I- my dad- he's... he's still so angry with you. And I tried, Blaine, really, I tried to talk to him but he... and I just... He won't listen. How can I ever tell him about us if he won't listen to me?"

"Kurt, we're only just back together, I really didn't expect you to tell him - it's fine..."

"It's not fine!" Kurt angrily swats at Blaine's hand when Blaine reaches up to try to comfort him, and his eyes are shooting daggers. "Stop saying that! You can't sit there and complain about the lack of support from your parents and then say it's fine when my dad acts like an ignorant asshole. It doesn't work like that!"

Even if Kurt doesn't elaborate on exactly what Burt has said about him this time, Blaine still has a pretty good idea. Kurt's voice can pierce through walls, especially when he gets worked up, and Blaine has unintentionally overheard more than one conversation between him and his dad. About filing complaint, about insurance issues, but mainly about how Burt doesn't want Kurt to see Blaine anymore, let alone share an apartment with him.

Blaine can't even bring himself to think about how Burt will react to the reality of Kurt and him dating again.

"He's just trying to protect you," he tries to soothe Kurt once more. "He doesn't want you to get hurt."

"I don't need protecting," Kurt huffs, looking up at Blaine indignantly. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

His face is red, his eyes puffy, and Blaine has never wished more that they weren't in a coffee shop in Lima, Ohio, because he would give anything to just be able to lean over to Kurt now, to take him in his arms and kiss the tears away. But they are, and he can't, and so he simply lifts their hands, quickly pressing his lips against Kurt's fingers.

"The fact that you don't need protection doesn't mean he doesn't want to give it to you," he says softly. "You're still his son."

"He saw the invitation," Kurt says abruptly, and Blaine feels his heart skip a beat. "He thinks it's some elaborate plot of yours to get people to pity you or something."

Blaine nods slowly. He'd gotten the invitation too, after all - of course he had. All Dalton alumni were invited to the yearly Dalton Christmas Spectacular fundraiser, aka Let's-Use-Charity-as-an-Excuse-to-Have-a-Big-Happy-Reunion. It is one of Dalton's oldest traditions, and fortunately a lot less stuffy than it sounds. Both Blaine and Kurt had attended previously, Blaine's favorite year being the one after he graduated when he could sit and eat but Kurt had still had to fulfill his duties as a Warbler and serve Blaine and his former classmates. Last year the theme had been 'Water', with several speakers from Doctors Without Borders and OSU about the importance of water as an economic commodity. The Warblers had strayed from their usual a cappella repertoire to include a song played on a water organ, and despite complaints thatthe only available drinking water that night had been tap water, the evening had been a success.

This year's theme, as it turned out, isHIV/AIDS.

"I didn't know, Kurt, I promise," Blaine pleads, even though he knows Kurt's not the one who needs convincing. "You know I would never lobby for something like that - not at Dalton, at least. I swear I was probably just as shocked as your dad was when I opened the envelope."

Kurt nods.

"I figured. But the... eh... the main speaker... she's from..."

"... HAPE," Blaine finishes the sentence for him, shooting Kurt an apprehensive smile. "Sun-ja Kim. She's... eh... she'll be my supervisor there, actually."

Kurt's lips part slightly, forming a small 'o'.

"That's a... coincidence."

"And I'm not sure it's a happy one, either," Blaine grimaces. "I mean, I haven't met her, and I'm kind of looking forward to hear her talk, learn about her vision on things, you know? But as I said I haven't met her yet, and I don't want to be rude and not introduce myself, but I also don't really want to have our first meeting under the eye of my former class mates and teachers. I won't be able to say what I want to say."

"Can't you just e-mail her?" Kurt asks. "Or call her? Kind of explain it to her?"

Blaine wobbles his head.

"Maybe. It's just... I haven't disclosed to them yet. And I kind of wanted to do that face to face, you know, not... not via mail, or something." He bites his lip, dropping his head in his head as he groans. "Urgh - why does this always have to be so complicated?"

"Hey - you'll figure it out," Kurt says comfortingly, rubbing Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine's about to say something sarcastic along the lines of 'yeah, well, easy for you to say', when he looks up and catches the look in Kurt's eyes.

It's support and trust, mixed with confidence and even a dash of pride, it's 'it'll be all right' and 'I'm here if you need me', and Blaine places his own hand over Kurt's, tilting his head and raising his shoulder so he can rest his cheek against their hands. He doesn't really say anything, but from the small smile on Kurt's face matching his own he can tell he doesn't have to - because 'you'll figure it out' really means 'we'll figure it out' now, and that's all the reassurance Blaine needs to believe that that's exactly what they'll do.

They've figured out much, much worse before, after all.