On Sunday, Blaine sat atop his bed, tapping his fingers nervously on his knees, waiting for his parents to come into his room. He didn't tell them precisely what he wanted to talk about, but he was sure he seemed appropriately discomforted, which hopefully meant they would take him seriously and leave his grandparents in the study for a few minutes alone.

A knock sounded softly against his bedroom door.

"Come in," he said, hoping his voice sounded a tiny bit more sure than he felt.

"Blaine, darling?" his mother wondered, entering his room, followed closely by his father. "Are you quite alright?"

"You're not ill, are you, son?" his father asked in concern.

"No, no, I'm okay. I just…need to talk to you about something. Something…important," he replied vaguely. "Will you sit?"

"Of course," his mother appeased him, seating herself delicately on the edge of the bed on one side her son while his father did the same. "What's wrong, dear?" She brushed a stray curl away from his nervous eyes.

"I…I want to…" he stuttered, the words stuck in his throat.

"Blaine, you know you can tell us anything," his father reminded him. "No matter what, we'll still love you."

Blaine turned his frightened face towards his father. "Would you still love me if I told grandmother and grandfather that I was gay?"

The shock on Harold Anderson's face mirrored his wife's and he stared directly into Blaine's hazel eyes, the eyes so much like his mother's that it was almost eerie.

"I'm tired," Blaine admitted to his parents. "I'm tired of having to pretend that I'm someone I'm not. I don't want to do it anymore, I can't do it anymore. I know you said – you said to keep it a secret from them. And I have, I've done it for years, but I – I can't do this."

Silence reigned in the room until his mother decided to speak softly. "Blaine, you know they're here to give you your inheritance. You'll lose it. You'll lose everything."

"I don't care about the money. I don't care about the trusts or the bonds or the paperwork," Blaine said. "Plenty of people make it in this world without money from their families. All I…I just need to know that I'll – that I'll still have you."

"Of course you'll still have us," Harold said immediately. "Nothing you do will ever change that."

"You'll always have us, darling," Cassandra promised.

"But why ask us first?" his father had to know. "You're eighteen now, you don't need our approval and you certainly don't need our permission for something like this."

Blaine hung his head. "I had to ask because…because I'm terrified that grandfather will do something to you, dad."

"What could they possibly do to me?" his father asked in a bit of astonishment. "I haven't been a child under their care for many years now."

"I was just afraid they'd – they'd cut you off or something. I don't – I don't know," Blaine said quietly. "I didn't want to do anything that would hurt you too."

"Blaine," his father said. "Look at me." He refused to continue speaking until he had Blaine's complete attention. "I'm a grown man. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don't need anything from them. If they want to cut us out of their lives, then so be it. But you're my son. You're the person I've watch grow from a tiny, little thing into a humble, strong, generous young man and you are my priority."

"We never should have asked you to be someone you're not," his mother continued for her husband. "We never should have tried to make you seem like anything less than what you truly are. I'm so sorry, Blaine. Had I known you – I never knew it was this hard for you. It was a mistake on our part to ask such a thing."

"Of course you should tell them," Harold said. "If you want to tell them, you have every right. No matter what they say, no matter what happens," his father took Blaine's hand in his own, "we will always be here. I don't want you to ever doubt that."

Blaine nodded his head shakily. "Okay," he finally said. "Okay."

"We love you, darling," his mother said before pressing a gentle kiss to her son's cheek.

"I love you too."

"Did you want to tell them tonight?" Harold asked.

"I want to tell them right now," Blaine said.

"Strong, indeed," Cassandra smiled. "Come, then. Let's get this done."

The family stood, Blaine's knees beginning to tremble. He already knew the kind of hateful words that were sure to spew from the mouths of his grandparents. But the fact that he was going to willingly subject himself to those sorts of things made his stomach twist into knots. He wished Kurt was here. He wished Kurt could hold his hand. He wished Kurt would place a calming hand on the small of his back as he walked downstairs.

But then, in the same thought, he was glad he wasn't. Blaine felt like he was about to stand in front of a firing squad and he realized he would gladly stand in front of Kurt, he would gladly take these harsh words if it meant they could be together without having to hide it from anyone.

As his parents led him into the study and he saw his grandparents rifling through a stack of papers (most likely his inheritance documents), his breath nearly left him. He was glad his father spoke first because in that moment he didn't think he could speak for himself.

"Mother, Father," Harold said shortly, "Blaine would like to speak to you about something."

"I'm quite afraid it will have to wait," the elder Anderson woman said shortly, her eyes not even looking up from the rim of her teacup. "There are far too many documents to be signed and absolutely no time for idle chit chat."

"I can safely say this is much more important than your paperwork," Harold said, his voice rising in volume only slightly. "You would do well to listen to your grandson."

Harold's mother breathed a deep, put-upon sigh and finally lifted her eyes.

"What is it, then?" Blaine's grandfather questioned. "Spit it out, we haven't got all night."

"Go on, darling," Cassandra whispered in her son's ear. "Have courage."

And then Blaine's memory shot straight back to Kurt, straight back to the day they met, straight back to when he first saw Kurt on the staircase and when he first saw Kurt cry over coffee. He remembered the text message he'd sent to Kurt on multiple occasions. Courage. Kurt had scads of it and he'd proven that. He'd withstood so many things and he still had the ability to smile and he still had the ability to love and he still had his heart focused on a future with Blaine. And Blaine knew it was his turn to fight back because he loved Kurt and he loved him desperately and maybe this is what it's all about, maybe this is what you did when you really loved someone. Because he wanted to be with Kurt and he wanted the world to know and he refused to pretend like he didn't because Kurt was everything.

"I don't want your money," Blaine finally said. "I don't want it and I never have and I never will."

His grandfather's eyes widened. "What?" he snapped. "What exactly are you saying, young man?"

"I refuse to take money from people that I know won't support the life decisions I've made and people who won't support the person I am."

"And just what sort of person would that be?" his grandmother asked suspiciously.

"I'm gay," Blaine said bluntly. "I'm one hundred percent gay and I'm proud of that. And I won't take your money because I know you wouldn't want your homosexual grandson having it anyway."

"…Is this some sort of joke, Harold?" the elder Mr. Anderson asked. "Because I can tell you that I am most definitely not amused by your son's sense of humor."

"It isn't a joke," Blaine replied.

"I do believe I posed that question to your father," his grandfather snapped.

"Blaine doesn't need anyone to speak for him," Harold said. "He knows his own mind."

"This isn't a joke," Blaine repeated. "I'm gay and I don't care if you like it or not because it's who I am."

"Shut your mouth, boy!" his grandmother snarled.

"Don't speak to him like that!" Harold said instantly.

"Are you attempting to say that you're on board with this, Harold?" Blaine's grandmother posed the question. "You support him being a filthy homos-" she had to stop for a moment as if she were afraid to say the word itself, "-homosexual?"

"It doesn't matter to us what Blaine is, we'll love him just the same," Harold declared. "I'll support him in anything."

"Harold, think clearly!" Harold's father nearly shouted. "This is an outrage! You cannot honestly support this – this thing you've raised!"

Blaine mentally recoiled at the term 'thing' but stood his ground firmly.

"I'm not a thing," Blaine defended himself. "I'm a person who happens to love other men, who happens to be in love with another man and there is absolutely nothing you can say that will change me."

"And you've raised him to be insolent as well!" his grandfather huffed angrily, standing quickly. "I cannot believe either of you," his eyes darted between Harold and Cassandra. "I cannot believe you've raised a faggot! I should have known, after your brother-"

"He has nothing to do with this!" Harold yelled instantly.

"Doesn't it?" Harold's mother questioned sharply. "It's in the genetics, it must be! Otherwise you wouldn't have had a queer son!"

"Don't bring-"

"I am thoroughly repulsed by the lot of you," Blaine's grandfather spat. "Keeping us in a house with a bit of evil walking around on two legs! How dare you! And you've probably known for years and you kept it a secret!"

"Because they knew you'd act like this!" Blaine shouted. "Of course they didn't tell you! Because you're a pair of ignorant people who hate it when someone doesn't conform to your lifestyle! I don't need your approval because I have parents that love me for who I am and I have a boyfriend who loves me just as much!"

"Don't even get me started on you, you filthy waste of breath," his grandfather said, taking two steps toward his grandson. "You should be rotting in a grave somewhere and your little faggot boyfriend should be right in that grave along side you!"

"Don't you even talk about Kurt! He's got more integrity and more compassion in one finger than you've got in your whole damn body! All I'm doing is loving another person!"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll shut that cock-sucking little mouth of yours right now!"

"Father, don't speak like that!"

"I'll speak however I like! This thing you call a son is the one making good on the words! You shouldn't even be allowed to live, you – you disgusting little animal!"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not a person!" Blaine shouted once more. "I'm no less a person than you are! In fact, I'm probably more of a person than you because I don't go around hating someone simply because they love someone of the same gender! I'm not filthy, I'm not evil, and I'm NOT AN ANIMAL! And for the fucking record-"

His mother tried to stop him. "Blaine, don't-" But it was too late.

"-I LOVE SUCKING COCK!"

SMACK!

The sound echoed throughout the room, not even muffled by the crackling fire.

Blaine's head remained snapped to the side, his grandfather's powerful slap stinging his cheek and jaw as he tasted the blood in his mouth from where his teeth had cut the inside of his bottom lip.

There was silence.

And as quickly as the silence settled, suddenly…it left.

"How DARE you touch my son?" Cassandra shouted.

"He isn't your son, he's a filthy piece of-"

"If you ever touch him again, I'll peel your flesh from your bones!" Blaine's mother continued.

"I don't ever want to SEE the wretched beast AGAIN!"

"And you won't!" Harold returned loudly. "You aren't welcome in this home ever again!"

The argument continued around him but Blaine didn't move until his mother raced to his side, attempting to cradle his abused face in her delicate hands. Blaine hissed at the contact and pulled away.

"Darling, darling, I'm so sorry," his mother breathed.

"I – I need to go," Blaine stuttered. "I – please, I need to see Kurt."

"Go," his mother urged, pushing him gently out of the room. "Stay there tonight. We'll call you in the morning."

Blaine didn't respond, he simply darted to the front door, snatched his keys off the hook, and rushed to his car. Tears were beginning to cloud his vision as he fell into the driver's seat and started his car. He wiped at his eyes, peeled out of the driveway, and sped towards Kurt's house. He couldn't think clearly, his breathing was coming in shallow shudders, and he realized he'd left his phone, his wallet, and everything else at home. Blood was coating his teeth and his gums, he could taste the coppery tang of the fluid on his lips and his jaw and cheek ached. It hadn't been merely a slap. It was as if his grandfather had channeled every ounce of rage into the action and it may as well have been a punch, except for the fact that Blaine was pretty sure his palm had been open but it wasn't clear, the memory was hazy, and all he could remember was instant pain and the slice of teeth on tender flesh.

The sun had set by the time he parked his car outside of Kurt's house and for a split second, he briefly thought about not going in at all because he didn't want Kurt to see him like this. But he needed Kurt and he needed to see his eyes and hold him close and he needed someone to hold him back and tell him that it was okay, that everything would be okay. So with that in mind, he slid out of the car, pocketing his keys, and slowly walked up the drive to the front door. He rang the doorbell once and waited as patiently as he could.

The door opened to reveal Carole.

"Oh, we weren't exp – honey, what happened?" the woman asked in shock, already pulling him inside.

"Mom? Who – Blaine," Kurt's breath hitched at the sight of his boyfriend, eyes red and puffy, blood on his lips, and a mark on his face.

As soon as Blaine took Kurt in with his eyes, as soon as he saw his precious face and his perfect hair, Blaine collapsed right there in the hallway. He sobbed loudly and then two sets of warm arms surrounded him. He felt Carole's hair brush against his cheek and he could smell Kurt, wonderful rose-scented Kurt, as they lifted him and moved him into the living room and onto the sofa.

"I'll get some ice for his face," Carole said, rushing into the kitchen to do just that.

"Blaine, I'm here," Kurt cooed as Blaine pressed the side of his face that wasn't throbbing against Kurt's chest, right under his chin. "I'm right here, I'm here."

Blaine continued to cry, and every single time he inhaled, the comforting scent of home invaded his senses. He wound his arms around Kurt's middle and curled himself up into a ball in Kurt's lap. The sharp sensation of something ice cold was being pressed to his cheek and he jerked away from it, closer to Kurt.

"It's alright, honey, it's just some ice for your cheek, to keep it from swelling," Carole said gently, handing Kurt the ice pack so he could hold it to Blaine's jaw and cheek. "It's okay, you're safe here."

Blaine felt safe. He felt warm and loved and he felt like he was home and he could smell something cooking in the kitchen and he wanted to stay here, he wanted to stay here forever. He cried until he simply…couldn't anymore. He did a lot of crying around Kurt, he realized. But then again, Kurt had done a fair amount of crying around him, so he didn't feel too awfully bad about it.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Kurt asked gently. "It's okay if you can't, you-"

"He hit me," Blaine said, almost inaudibly. "My grandfather, he hit me."

"What?" Carole asked in outrage. "What on earth-"

"I told them I was gay. I told them and they – there was an argument and he called me filthy and he called me an animal and…I said I wasn't and that I…and he just…"

"Blaine, honey, you know you're not any of those things," Carole told him.

"I know," Blaine nodded against his chest. "I knew he'd say things like that, but I didn't think he'd – he'd hurt me."

"He shouldn't have touched you," Kurt said, his voice on edge. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, I'm so sorry."

"No," Blaine said immediately, finally lifting his head and taking the ice pack out of Kurt's hands so he could hold it himself. "I'm glad you weren't there. It was horrible. And he would have – have taken it out on you. I couldn't let that happen."

He didn't tell Kurt that he was the only thing on his mind, he didn't tell him that Kurt's love for him was the thing that got him through it all. But he was pretty sure Kurt knew. He was almost positive he understood from the look in Blaine's eyes.

"I told my mom I had to leave, I said I needed to see you. She told me to go and that she'd call me tomorrow. They were still fighting when I left."

"You can stay here for as long as you need," Carole put in.

Suddenly, the front door opened and Burt and Finn came through, having just returned from a movie that Kurt refused to go see. He couldn't go, not when he knew Blaine might need him.

"What's goin' on?" Burt asked when he came in and saw Blaine's face. "Blaine, what happ-"

"I'll explain," Carole said, ushering Burt and Finn through to the kitchen, leaving Blaine and Kurt alone in the living room.

Blaine removed the ice from his numb face and Kurt lifted a quivering hand to Blaine's lips. He gently rubbed his thumb over the dried blood on his lower lip.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, peering into Blaine's bloodshot eyes.

"Sort of," Blaine admitted. "It just…aches now. Can I…I need to rinse my mouth out."

Kurt nodded understandingly. "There are some cloths in the cupboard."

Blaine gazed tiredly upon his boyfriend, taking in the sad expression shadowing his face and the clear blue of his eyes. He looked so…Blaine didn't even know. All he knew was that Kurt was solid and he was there and he wasn't going anywhere soon.

He kept that simple knowledge in his heart as he made his way to the bathroom. He turned the tap on, grabbing for the cup by the sink and filling it with cool water so he could rinse the blood out of his mouth. It stung a little at the cut on the inside of his lip so when he spat the water out, he pulled his bottom lip down to assess the damage. It wasn't too bad. The cut wasn't that deep. He'd live, he decided as he turned to the cupboard, grabbing a cloth so he could wet it and clean the dried blood off his lips and the tiny bit that had almost reached his chin. He checked his jaw in the mirror, noting that a very faint bruise was already beginning to form.

Fuck, he was going to get all sorts of questions in school the next day.

He splashed his face with more water, patting it dry with the hand towel, and then tossed the cloth he'd used into the trash. He didn't want anyone to have to clean his blood out of anything. He'd by them a new one if they really cared that much.

When he returned, everyone was sitting in the kitchen and plate for him had been placed next to Kurt's.

"Try and eat something, honey," Carole said.

Blaine didn't think he could eat, not with the cut inside his mouth, but they were being so generous that he couldn't refuse, so he sat down.

"Sorry to hear about your grandparents, dude," Finn tossed out. "That really sucks."

Blaine shrugged. "Not much to be done about it. It is what it is."

"You think they'll be gone soon?" Burt asked. "Your parents wouldn't let them stay there, not after what they did to you, right?"

"My parents were practically kicking them out when I left," Blaine said. "I doubt they'll let them stay another night."

"Good," Burt said gruffly. "They deserve it."

Blaine gave a small smile. For some reason, Burt had become just as protective over Blaine as he was of Kurt. It was kind of nice, Blaine thought. It gave him warm fuzzies all over.

"Pretty sure my mother said something about skinning them alive if they ever touched me again," Blaine added. "Or something to that effect."

"I always did like that woman," Carole commented.

And that was that. He was accepted just as he was. Kurt's family didn't mention the incident again and they continued eating dinner. Blaine figured out that he could still eat without agitating his lip as long as he chewed on the other side of his mouth. No one pointed out the bruise forming on his face, no one asked how he was, and that was it.

Blaine may have lost his grandparents. He may lose the rest of his extended family. But he had gained an entire second family in the form of Kurt's parents and he decided he liked that much better.

The next morning, Blaine realized he didn't have any other clothes to change into besides a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt he kept in one of Kurt's drawers, just in case. And Kurt was smaller in the waist and taller than Blaine was, so he couldn't borrow any of his jeans. A pair of Finn's jeans were drowning him. So Carole doused the jeans Blaine was wearing with plenty of Fabreeze and tossed them into the dryer.

"After living with Finn, you learn shortcuts," she explained.

"And you can borrow one of my shirts," Kurt said. "You can now officially say that I love you, because I don't let anyone borrow my clothes unless it's a sweatshirt or a t-shirt."

"I feel very privileged," Blaine said to Kurt with a smile.

Kurt had also offered Blaine some concealer for the bruise on his face, but Blaine refused it. It really didn't matter because it'd show through anyway. Blaine had woken up in need of some pain relieving medication and when he glanced at his reflection he had gasped at the sight of purple and blue smattering his jaw.

By the time they were in the car on the way to school, Blaine began backpedaling.

"We should skip. We should skip and…and go do something else. We could sit at the coffee shop all day or – or go see a movie. Or we could go back to your house and have sex all day. That sounds way better than school, don't you think?" Blaine asked with an overly bright look on his face.

"While all of those options sound better than school, especially that last one, it's Jared's first day back since he was in the hospital," Kurt reminded him.

"Oh," Blaine deflated visibly. "Right."

"It's going to be okay," Kurt promised him. "I'll be there and just…just ignore everyone who stares for too long."

"It looks really bad, doesn't it?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt almost didn't say anything, but decided it was best to be honest. "It looks pretty bad, yeah. But it doesn't matter what anyone thinks or what anyone says. And the bruise will fade eventually."

Blaine groaned and let his head rest against the passenger side window of the car. "We could be having sex right now."

"I know," Kurt said with a bit of a laugh.

When they finally entered through the doors of McKinley High, Blaine was surprised he didn't get stared at right away. Well, he was keeping his head down and his face angled towards Kurt, but still. No one seemed to notice until Jared met them at their lockers.

"Hey," he said timidly. And then his eyes widened when he saw Blaine's jaw. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jared," Blaine said flatly.

"The hell did you hit him for?" Jared lashed out at Kurt. "You can't just go around hitting people!"

"Whoa!" Blaine exclaimed, moving to stand in between Jared and his boyfriend. "Kurt didn't hit me!"

"Jared, do you honestly think I'd do that to him?" Kurt asked incredulously, ushering Blaine out of his way.

"Well…no," Jared admitted. "He just looked like he was like, avoiding your eyes or something."

"I'm avoiding everyone else's eyes," Blaine explained. "I'd really rather not draw a lot of attention to the fact that I have a huge freaking bruise on the side of my face."

"Well who did it then? And if you say you fell, I swear, I'll-"

"I told my grandfather that I was gay and he didn't take it well," Blaine said in hushed tones. "Please lower your voice. I'd rather the entire school didn't know about my problems."

Jared's face crumpled immediately and it looked like he was about to burst into tears, but instead he leapt over to Blaine and forced him into a hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have – I'm sorry, my moods have been all over the place these last few days." He released Blaine and turned to Kurt. "I didn't meant to say that about you, I know you'd never hurt him."

"It's okay," Kurt said easily, lifting a hand and squeezing Jared's shoulder. "How are you?"

"Freaking out," Jared admitted. "All the teachers know what I – what happened. I hope they haven't been talking about it around everyone else. I don't want anyone to know about me either."

"At least you don't have a mark on your face that screams abuse at the world," Blaine commented.

"Yeah that's true."

And then Jared started laughing for no real reason at all. Kurt and Blaine exchanged confused glances and waited until Jared got a hold of himself.

"Sorry," Jared giggled. "Just – look at us. I know, I know, it's not really funny at all. But if I don't laugh, I'll probably start crying again. And when I start, I can't seem to stop."

"You are quite the pair," Kurt put in, lifting an eyebrow elegantly. "At least neither of you nearly got knocked into a coma. Or thrown into a dumpster."

"Hey, you didn't get locked in a closet for like, hours," Blaine said.

"And neither of you tried to off yourselves," Jared threw in.

It went deadly silent. And then all three of them erupted in laughter because no, it wasn't funny, it wasn't funny at all, but they had something to bond over and the way they said everything suddenly seemed so blasé and hilarious that they couldn't not laugh.

"Oh my god," Blaine said in between giggling fits, "our lives totally suck."

"And so do we!" Kurt said hysterically.

The intentional innuendo had them laughing even harder and now they were getting odd stares from passersby but they couldn't give a damn because it was hilarious for some reason.

Yeah, Blaine thought, it would have been nice to stay in bed with Kurt all day. But being here and being able to laugh it all off with his friends was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Somewhere around lunchtime, Blaine realized his mother wouldn't be able to call him to tell him what happened because he'd left his damn phone behind when he left his house.

"It'll be okay, she has Carole's number," Kurt reminded him. "They talk all the time."

"What if she's been trying to call me all day?" Blaine wondered worriedly as they sat down at the lunch table.

"If she can't get a hold of you, she'll either call Carole or she'll come to my house. It's okay, calm down," Kurt said, rubbing Blaine's back.

"Whoa, dude, who sucker punched you?" Puck asked indelicately.

"My grandfather," Blaine responded shortly, slightly annoyed.

"…Oh, holy shit."

"Yes, holy shit, indeed," Kurt said, just as annoyed as his boyfriend. "Don't bring it up again."

"Sorry, but when someone walks in with giant welt on their face, someone's gotta ask the question," Puck said with a shrug. "You okay, though?"

"I'm fine," Blaine sighed, leaning down and resting his hands on his crossed arms on the table.

Kurt continued rubbing his back, evilly eyeing anyone who looked like they weren't going to drop the issue. Everyone seemed to get the picture and kept their mouths shut.

Wisely so, Kurt thought.

By the end of the day, Blaine was shaking with nerves. Kurt knew how badly he wanted to hear from his mother, but there was nothing to be done about it until Glee was over.

"So today we – oh my god, Blaine, what happened?" Mr. Schue asked in horror.

Kurt had never face palmed so hard. And they say adults were the ones who were supposed to be masters of subtlety and tact. Yeah, not so much.

"Oh for the love of-" Blaine stood in front of the class, completely fed up with the questions and the pitying looks. "I told my grandfather that I was gay and he smacked the hell out of me. End of story, end of conversation, I know I look like shit, and if you would all stop looking at me like I'm some fragile baby bird, I would REALLY appreciate it."

Kurt's eyebrows flew up in shock because, ha, wow okay, he knew Blaine could be aggressive and he knew he could have a flare of a temper but he wasn't supposed to look that freaking sexy, especially with his marred face. This was so not the time, so not the occasion for these sorts of thoughts because Blaine was just assaulted by his own grandfather and he'd spent the night bawling in Kurt's arms. Kurt fought the blush that was surely rising to his cheeks as Blaine took his seat again.

"Sorry," Blaine grumbled. "I couldn't stand it anymore."

"Completely understandable," Kurt squeaked out.

Blaine eyed him carefully. "Are you okay? I didn't uh, didn't mean to scare you or anything, I'm just fed up with the sad looks people keep giving me."

Kurt bit both of his lips together and shook his head. "I totally get it."

"…Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just," Kurt lowered his voice, "try looking a little less…hot the next time you decide to bitch everyone out. I'm repulsed at how turned on I am right now."

At first, Blaine looked slightly surprised and then he tilted his head and smiled a bit. "Duly noted."

They made it through Glee as best they could, Blaine shooting Kurt little looks every chance he got. Kurt was pretty much beet read throughout the entire class. But it seemed to help Blaine calm down and stop worrying so much about his mother.

It sort of became a problem though, when they stumbled into Kurt's house ready to race straight to his bedroom. Because they caught sight of Blaine's mother and Carole sitting at the kitchen table having a cup off coffee. The two stopped dead in their tracks.

"M-mom, hi," Blaine greeted.

"Oh, Blaine," she breathed with wide eyes, standing up and making her way over to her son. "Your face…"

"I know," Blaine brushed his mother's hands away from his face. "It doesn't hurt that much anymore though. I'm okay."

"Come have some coffee, boys, Carole just made a fresh pot," Cassandra said, urging them both into the kitchen.

Kurt poured them both a cup before they joined their mothers at the table.

"So…what happened?" Blaine needed to ask.

"There was a fair amount of yelling," his mother said slowly. "Harsh words were exchanged. Your grandmother threw the inheritance papers into the fire and then realized she'd set flame to just over one million dollars. Her reaction was unforgettable."

Kurt coughed into his coffee cup. "I'm sorry," he said, once he composed himself, "did you just say over one million dollars?"

"The documents were valued at one point two million, I believe," Cassandra nodded.

Kurt sat back against his chair, completely stunned. One point two million dollars. And Blaine gave it up. HE GAVE IT UP.

"Then what?" Blaine asked eagerly, completely glossing over the amount.

"Your father told them to pack their bags," she said simply. "They aren't welcome in our home. Neither are we welcome in theirs, but I always hated the weather surrounding that dreary place." Blaine's mother reached over and covered her son's hand with hers. "You won't be seeing them ever again. No one – I won't let anyone hurt you again, Blaine. I simply can't believe your grandfather would – I still can't believe he did that to you."

"I'm okay," Blaine said before swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I wasn't expecting him to…react that violently either."

"Your father was furious. I've never seen him so angry. Your grandmother even had the audacity to ask us to call a car for them, so they could get to the airport," Cassandra smiled slightly. "Your father told them to simply call a taxi."

"Oh god, that image alone is hilarious," Blaine remarked.

"So it is," his mother agreed. "I tried calling you earlier, but then I remembered how quickly you'd run out and realized you probably left your phone in your room."

"I'm sorry, I totally forgot, mom," Blaine apologized.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Cassandra said quickly, giving his hand a little squeeze before leaning back in her own chair. "I was just telling Carole how grateful I was for them taking you in last night."

"It wasn't a problem at all," Carole told the other woman. "Blaine is always welcome in our home."

Cassandra smiled and her hazel eyes twinkled. "It's wonderful to know that the boy Blaine has chosen to be with has such loving parents. It makes things much easier, you understand."

"I think I can express the same sentiment on my end," Carole grinned, holding up her coffee cup, hinting that Cassandra should do the same and they toasted to that notion.

Kurt and Blaine both flushed a light shade of pink as they twined their fingers together under the table.

"That being said, I only came to tell you, Blaine, that you could come home whenever you like, as your grandparents left last night," his mother told him.

Blaine looked to Kurt out of the corner of his eyes. "Actually…would it be okay if I…if I stayed another night here? I know it's a school night," he rushed to say, "I…just…"

"It's fine with us," Carole said, speaking for both her and her husband.

"I thought as much," Cassandra said with a grin, "which is why I packed you a bag. It's sitting on the sofa. You're phone and wallet are inside as well. Oh, and I took the liberty of bringing something else you might need."

Blaine stood and rushed into the living room to see exactly what his mother had brought.

"HERMAN!" Kurt heard Blaine exclaim happily from the other room.

Kurt let his head fall onto the kitchen table, groaning quietly.

After Blaine's mother had left, Kurt and Blaine were in his room, Blaine setting Herman down gently next to Klaine the fish on Kurt's desk.

"Your friend is back," Blaine said to the fish. "I know how much you missed him. It's okay, he missed you too."

"As adorable as this is," Kurt had to say, "I have one question I need to ask you."

"Hmm?" Blaine returned as he decided to set the plant that much closer to Klaine. He watched the pretty little fish swim to the side of the bowl nearest the fern and bump into the glass, as though he were trying to get even closer. "Yeah?"

"ONE POINT TWO MILLION DOLLARS? You turned down one point two million dollars. Are you mentally deficient?" Kurt asked in outrage.

"I thought you'd be happy," Blaine said simply, turning back to face Kurt. "I did it for you."

What? "What?"

"I could have taken the money. I could have not said anything and taken it. But you're worth far more than that," Blaine said quietly, seating himself next to Kurt on the bed. "I refused to live the rest of my life, to look someone in the eye even if they were my grandparents, and pretend you weren't worth every cent in this world. I'd rather tell the world that I love you than sit on that money."

Oh. "Oh."

Blaine smiled and nudged Kurt's shoulder. "I may not be a millionaire but…" his smile widened before he continued. "What is it you want, Kurt? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey, that's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Kurt."

Kurt flushed deeply, playing the part Blaine had obviously set up for him.

"I'll take it. Then what?"

Grinning broadly, Blaine continued. "Well, then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, see...and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair...am I talking too much?"

Kurt let his head rest on Blaine's shoulders. "You could never talk enough," he told his lover. "And I'd take the moon with the lasso around it over one point two million dollars any day, so long as you gave it to me."

Blaine pressed a firm kiss into Kurt's hair.

"Though I will say this," Kurt said much more loudly, "the moon couldn't decorate a condo in New York City the way I could, if I had one point two million dollars at my disposal."