Chapter Twenty-One: Reorientation
TPD: Sexy

"So you're okay with it?"

"We're going to... call you Blaine. And... him," was all his father would commit to.

"What about the other part?"

"You being straight?"

"Me being gay," Blaine corrected, but not angrily. He was a little too happy at this small acceptance to get hung up on little things like that.

"You like boys."

"And that makes me gay," Blaine said. "Anyone who sees your family is going to see your son dating a boy. Not your daughter on hormones. They're going to see your younger, gay son."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," his dad said.

And Blaine guessed his dad meant that he needed to think. Whether it meant he needed to think and get it straight in his head that his son was a boy and gay, or if he needed to think about whether or not the "facts" about his "daughter" were more important than how his family was perceived.

They dropped him off at Dalton after lunch, and Blaine couldn't help the smile that was pasted on his face throughout Warblers rehearsal. Even things that should have worried him just amused him- namely the coach from Kurt's old school that they ran into at the Lima Bean after rehearsal.

"I just don't think-"

"Kurt, what is the problem?" Blaine asked. "We've got to step it up. Weren't you the one telling the Warblers about stepping out of our comfort zones?"

"Yes," Kurt replied quietly. "It's just... No, you're right. I can- I can do sexy. It'll be weird, but you're right. That's what competition is. That's how you win competitions. You have to- push yourself."

"Good," Blaine grinned. "In that case, I think you should know that the Council's been impressed with your recent attitude adjustment. I'm pretty sure that, if you auditioned for this solo with a pop song, they would give it to you."

"I don't know about a solo," Kurt fretted. "Especially not- not a sexy one. Maybe a duet."

Blaine tried not to let his sudden discomfort show on his face. If the Warblers did a duet, it would probably be him and Kurt. Kurt had to know that, so was this some kind of subtle attempt to-? To what? Blaine was being ridiculous. He was overthinking everything. Besides.

It was just a song.

"So I think my parents are finally coming around," Blaine changed the subject.

"Oh, my gosh. Blaine, that's great!"

"Yeah. They're not trying to set me up with girls or keep talking to me about girls and marriage and babies," he lied. Well, it wasn't a lie. It was just that he seemed to have made up some giant parallel life to tell people he was living so that he could talk about his parents without anyone knowing he was trans or that he'd been kicked out. The last thing he wanted was social services or the police involved.

"I'm so glad," Kurt told him sincerely, and Blaine was glad to have successfully changed the subject away from duets. Which it did end up being. But still.

It was just a song.

Actually, it was a song with really bad, really unsexy faces. Blaine barely managed to keep it together. He was pretty sure he lost some filters more than once, and he couldn't even manage to come up with a diplomatic way to tell Kurt that he was... failing.

Alright.

Blaine could do this.

Maybe if he just kept pretending they were just friends and there was no awkwardness, it would just come true. He offered to help Kurt and so went over to his house that afternoon. He vaguely remembered the night he spent in this room, but only vaguely. Blaine was pretty sure he'd still been a little drunk, because he didn't remember half of it.

Because the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets.

"Well, Kurt, you have to learn about it some day."

Not today. I think you should leave.

It took a moment to sink in, but it was all Blaine could think about for the rest of the day. Kurt wanted romance, no sex. Kurt seemed even more uncomfortable with the idea of sex than Blaine did. That meant that Kurt was the type to fall in love with people, and maybe not so much genitals. Which meant maybe...

Blaine hated himself for thinking it. He hated what he was setting himself up for because, if he was honest, he was already crushing on Kurt. Of course, he was perfectly capable of ignoring it, because he knew where that would lead, and he'd much rather have Kurt as a friend than as another memory of "I'm just a little too gay for this."

At least he could be a good friend to Kurt. It was probably a little too much to talk to Burt Hummel, but Kurt had to know these things or he was going to get hurt someday. And Blaine didn't want that. He was a little disconcerted how easily the lies about his own dad rolled off his tongue, but it wasn't like he was going to say something like "My dad didn't even love me enough to put a roof over my head, let alone give me the talk."

It hit him a little too close when he truthfully told Mr. Hummel that he didn't have that kind of relationship with his own dad. He felt like he was going to cry now, and was glad for the opportunity to leave because he was overstepping.

He didn't cry, of course. He just sort of wanted to. So he hit the gym when he got back and started punching the crap out of the punching bag. Once the endorphins kicked in, he realized he was mad about a lot more than his dad. He was mad about his parallel life, and about these feelings he had for Kurt that just wouldn't go away, and about the empty feeling in his pants where there should be something. But there wasn't. And if there had been, all of his problems just... wouldn't be problems. His dad would love him- or at least his dad would call him son. He wouldn't be terrified of romance, and he wouldn't have to make up stories because he was afraid of what people would think of him. He wouldn't feel like a freak, and he wouldn't have to hide things like his birth certificate in order to go to school here.

His parents would let him go to school here.

Blaine hit the shower before the tears could hit his eyelashes. Apparently even boxing couldn't cheer him up this time. Worse was the memory of those girls from Crawford County that they'd invited to watch their performance. He kept imagining himself being stuck standing with them, wearing those skirts and those bobby socks, and watching as his friends performed.

He couldn't even think of something to throw himself into to distract himself. Not right now.

So he decided to see if he felt any less miserable in the morning.