Burt had grown comfortable with the presence of Blaine Anderson in his household. Well... maybe not all together comfortable, but he was used to him all the same. Other than the isolated incident of the demanded sex talk for Kurt, Blaine was a regular little Kennedy-clone: all easy charm and manners of a boy who came from a well-to-do family. He watched his mouth and he watched his hands around his boyfriend's father, and he made Kurt endlessly happy. That was enough for Burt.

But when Burt quietly made his way down the basement stairs after his day at the shop, he was neither used to the scene nor comfortable with it. He was pleased to see his son sleeping peacefully; it was the beds other occupant that disturbed Burt Hummel. Blaine was not looking very Kennedy-like at all with his forehead on his knees and his hands pressed over his ears.

"Hey, Kid." Burt said softly.

Despite the gentleness of his tone, Blaine startled- his head snapping up and his eyes momentarily filled with fright. It reminded Burt of the first day in the hospital when Blaine had seemed to suddenly come to terms with what had happened to Kurt. But, already, Blaine was steadying himself. He checked on the boy beside him and seemed to calm at the sight of Kurt still slumbering quietly.

When Blaine met his eyes again, Burt nodded his head toward the stairs, indicating Blaine should follow him up.

Blaine nodded his comprehension, but turned his gaze back to Kurt first. He smoothed the boy's hair gently before slipping out of the bed and following Burt without a sound.

When they reached the main floor, Burt left the basement door ajar so he would better be able to hear if his son were to suddenly cry out in his sleep before sitting down on the couch, "How was he?"

Blaine remained standing; his eyes on the basement door, and Burt noted his unshaven face while he waited for a response. "He's scared. And exhausted."

"He tell you anything about them? The bad dreams?" Burt pressed, he felt a little guilty harassing the small boy; he looked as a mess as Kurt did.

Blaine nodded absently, "A little."

Burt waited for a moment, and when Blaine didn't elaborate, he was torn over whether to probe him for more details or let things be. "And?"

"He'll be all right. Just give him time; he's been through a lot." Blaine rubbed his neck with a hand, his eyes finally meeting Burt's.

Burt watched Blaine shift from foot to foot, "Why don't you have a seat, buddy."

Blaine glanced at the empty armchair before sitting down at its edge; he looked ready to stand up and bolt the second he had the chance. His eyes moved back to the basement door as though he expected Kurt to suddenly appear from behind it.

Burt kept his eyes on Blaine, "Relax, Blaine; you're making me nervous."

Blaine complied reluctantly, sitting back in the chair but kept his shoulders straight, his hands folded in his lap.

Burt waited for a moment for Blaine to relax, but when it was obvious that he was as at ease as he was ever going to be, Burt spoke, "So these guys who did this to Kurt; you knew them."

Blaine's eyes shifted back to Burt, "Yeah, I knew them."

"Kurt says they're who came after you at your old school."

Blaine didn't know where Burt was going with all of this, "Yes, sir."

"Were they this aggressive with you?" Burt nodded toward the basement door where his son was still quietly sleeping.

Blaine hesitated, "I never had any hospital stays."

"They hit you though?" Burt pressed.

"Yes, sir." Blaine's eyes went down to his hands in his lap.

"And your old man never got anywhere with the police either I take it if these guys are still wandering around." Burt rested his elbows on his knees, looking discouraged.

"He never tried." Blaine studied the rough edge of a fingernail. He'd taken to biting them when he was stressed out and the majority of them were nearly to the quick...he really should stop doing that. Nail biters look anxious. He tore himself from his nail biting reverie and realized Burt was silent. He looked up to find the man's eyes fixated on him.

"These guys beat the crap out of you, and your father didn't do anything about it?" Burt's voice was quiet with disbelief. "What about your mother, is she around?"

"Yeah, she's around." Blaine didn't like this conversation. He may have resented a little bit of his upbringing, but the almost paranoid need for privacy regarding the Anderson Personal Life was engraved in his system.

"What about the school; did your parents get them involved?"

Blaine sighed, "My parents didn't get others involved because I didn't involve them."

Now Burt was completely confounded, "What?"

Blaine shrugged, his eyes falling back to his lap.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Burt felt a hurt in his chest. It had nearly broken his heart to find out Kurt had blown the note in his Glee club solo audition the previous year to save Burt the trouble of dealing with harassers, how could any parent stand to find out someone had been hurting their child while they remained oblivious?

Blaine shifted in the chair; almost wishing Kurt would start screaming from a nightmare just so he could weasel his way out of the conversation.

Burt tried again, "You've been straight with me in the past, kid, even if I didn't like it. I need you to be straight with me now."

"I didn't stand up for myself; I let them do what they did," Blaine finally spoke, "My father... my father doesn't believe in victims. I am the master of my own fate and all that."

"I'm not sure that rule applies to this situation, Blaine." Burt felt a paternal hurt for the boy in front of him. He may be the wiseass kid who had had the nerve to tell Burt to give his son the sex talk (the very same boy who, a few weeks later, was suddenly dating Kurt), but he was still just a kid, and kids needed to be protected.

"With all due respect sir, it pertained more to the trouble I got myself into than anything else." Blaine eyed Burt for a moment, "when you were a kid, would you have gone to your father and told him a bunch of guys were beating on you?"

Burt sighed, "No, but the reasons for them doing what they did to you-"

Despite an upbringing that taught him interrupting adults was as mortal of a sin as murder, Blaine smoothly cut Burt off, "-are the last thing my father would ever want to have to deal with and the precise reason I tried not to tell him. I'm thankful and in awe of how accepting you are of Kurt and how close you two are, but we can't all be so fortunate or so understanding."

When Burt stared at him mutely, his eyes conflicted, Blaine decided it was time to smooth things over and shut this conversation down before it advanced any further.

"Eventually they figured out something was wrong. They sent me to Dalton and that was the end of it." Blaine ran the pad of his index finger over the jagged edge of his thumbnail. "I haven't had a problem with them since."

Burt opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of Blaine's phone ringing.

Blaine fished it from his pocket and felt a sinking sensation in his chest. His father. How convenient. "Hey, Dad."

"Where the hell are you?"

"I went to Kurt's today. I told mom and I called in to work to switch my day off from Wednesday to today." He searched his brain for which bases he was forgetting to cover. "I mowed the lawn last night."

"I'm not calling to ask you to cut grass, Blaine. Do you remember what tonight is?"

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment, flipping through his mental calendar. Shit. He glanced at the clock on the mantle, "The Windsor Benefit; it's not until eight, though. It's only four."

"Blaine," His father sounded exasperated, "You're supposed to be escorting Madeline Bennett which means you need to pick her up."

"So I have to be out the door by seven-thirty. I've still got time." Blaine said coolly.

"And you need time to pick up the corsage." His father insisted.

"Mom already got it." Blaine glanced at Burt Hummel who was reclined against the back of the couch, acting like he wasn't listening. "I'll leave now if that's any reassurance to you, but I promise I have it under control."

His father let out a short snort, "You'd better."

Blaine hung up without saying goodbye and got to his feet. "Looks like I'd better head out."

"Thanks for coming out today, Blaine. If it's causing you trouble with your old man, I'd be happy to talk to him and let him know I asked you to come out here." Burt got to his feet too, following after Blaine toward the front door.

"No, no; it's fine. I'm glad you called." Blaine slipped his shoes on, "Don't hesitate to call again."

Burt reached out and squeezed Blaine's shoulder, he didn't miss the way Blaine tensed under his touch, "Let me know if you ever need anything, kid."

"Thank you, sir." Blaine mumbled, making a quick exit to avoid any last second questions.

Despite his reassurances to his father, Blaine was rushed. He hit traffic on the way back to New Albany, ended up having to go back with the corsage due to some sort of mix up with the flowers (he thought they looked fine, but his mother insisted they were all wrong), and still had to shave, shower, and dress. His father glared at him as he sprinted down the stairs still buttoning the cuff of one of his sleeves.

"What time did you tell Madeline you were picking her up at?" His father asked pointedly, watching his son snatch the corsage from the refrigerator.

"7:35." Blaine said flatly, snatching his keys from the counter.

"It's 7:31, Blaine." His father called after him as he hurried toward the front door.

Blaine didn't respond; he was already out the door. When he got in his car he took a breath and tried to pull himself together. With Kurt he may have given up his act, but he still had other people to hold things together for. He pulled into Madeline's driveway at 7:39. Oops. He hurried up the front path and rang the bell, studying the little cluster of white roses in the plastic container he held in his hand. He hadn't really meant to get himself suckered into the benefit, but apparently his father had taken his pleas earlier that summer to heart- he'd been informed of his role as escort only three days after his first meeting with Madeline. Her phone number was still crumpled somewhere in his sock drawer and it made him uncomfortable.

"Oh, Blaine, you're here!"

Blaine flashed his best smile, "Hi, Mrs. Bennett, sorry I'm a bit late."

"Oh, don't be silly, dear. Come in!" The little blonde woman was practically pulling him by the elbow through the front door.

Blaine shook his uneasiness and smiled politely.

"Madeline just ran back upstairs, but she should be-oh, there you are; look who's here!" Sheri Bennett clapped her hands together when her daughter appeared at the top of the stairs.

Madeline blushed as she made her way down to them. If Blaine were attracted to women he decided he would have found Madeline quite pretty-she had pretty grey eyes, Quinn Febrey's little nose, and long strawberry blonde colored hair. This is what his parents had dreamed Blaine would end up with. He smiled for her, "You look beautiful."

Madeline's cheeks turned even more pink, "Thank you, Blaine; you look nice, too... are those for me?"

Blaine followed her gaze to the corsage, he pulled at the plastic edges to get the case open, "Oh, yeah."

She giggled as he fumbled with the stupid box for a moment, and held out her hand for him to slip the flowers over her wrist once he'd conquered the box.

Her mother had rushed back in with a similar box that she handed off to Madeline before backing away to blind them with her camera.

Madeline had no trouble with her box; she pinned the rose to Blaine's lapel, letting her hand rest on his shoulder as she studied it, "perfect."

They stood together and smiled for pictures, Sheri cooing over what a lovely pair they made the whole time until she was suddenly shooing them out the door.

"We'll meet you there; you have everything, don't you dear?" Sheri smoothed some invisible wrinkle in her daughter's white dress.

"I told you, Claire has it all. We have to go or we'll be late." Madeline tugged at Blaine's elbow, trying to get them out the door.

"No funny business, Anderson." Ryan Bennett chuckled as he gave Blaine a scolding look.

"Daddy!" Madeline flushed red and glowered at her father.

"Trust me, sir, you have nothing to worry about." Blaine smiled quickly before leading Madeline out to the car.

"I love this song!" She chirped as soon as Blaine was pulling out of the driveway, his stereo still on from when he'd made his hasty exit.

Blaine glanced at her and smiled, "Me too."

She hummed along for a few moments before turning her attention back to him, "Have you gone to Windsor before?"

"It's been a couple years. Have you?"

She bobbed her head up and down, "this is the first year I'm old enough for an escort though. And I'm chair for the raffle prizes, so you'd better bid on something."

"Cross my heart." Blaine mimed the movement with one hand.

She giggled and chattered on all the way up until he was jogging around the car to pull her door open for her. She rested her hand at his elbow and was finally quiet as they entered the country club. She led him to the registry table where a tall blonde was sitting; the girl squealed at the sight of Madeline and the two ooh'd and ahh'd over how lovely the other looked while Blaine stood idly a few paces back. The blonde looked his way and whispered something in Madeline's ear that sent them both into a fit of giggles before they were finally recorded as present. Madeline slipped her hand back around Blaine's arm, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Jamie is insanely jealous."

Blaine decided to assume the girl at registration was Jamie; he smiled politely, scanning the room. It was such a big space and there were so many people... "Why's that?"

Madeline's fingers traced his forearm briefly, "Because my date is so much cuter than hers."

It was going to be a long night.

"Well look who's finally awake." Carol smiled affectionately when Kurt appeared in the kitchen, squinting against the light.

"How'd you sleep, bud?" His father scrutinized his face.

"Great, but you should have woken me up; I'm going to be as nocturnal as a bat now." Kurt yawned.

"You needed your rest, honey, and your timing is perfect- dinner will be ready in just a minute. Are you hungry?" Carol checked a pot on the stove.

"Starving." Kurt replied honestly.

Burt felt the tension ease between his shoulder blades. "Glad to hear it; come sit down."

Kurt sat down across from him, glancing to Finn who looked disgruntled, "Who puked on your Jimmy Choos?"

"Huh?" Finn looked confused.

"You look pissed." Kurt revised. He took the plate of spaghetti Carol offered him gratefully.

"Blaine made improvisation class sound like it was gonna be easy. It was not easy. It was choreography days bad." Finn grumbled, but his face brightened when he was served his own plate piled high with food.

Blaine had been over; Kurt had almost forgotten, "Did he go home?"

Burt nodded, "Around four this afternoon."

Kurt felt a little disappointed; he twirled pasta around his fork half-heartedly, "You should have woken me up so I could say goodbye at least."

"You needed your rest, and I'm sure he would have waited if he could, but he was in a rush to get somewhere." Burt soothed. "Eat your dinner."

Kurt stuck the fork in his mouth and raised his eyebrows at his father.

"Thank you." Burt smiled briefly.

"I hope it wasn't some fancy Dalton thing he had to be at." Finn said, burying a piece of garlic bread under a heap of pasta before shoving it in his mouth.

"Why do you say that?" Kurt frowned.

"He looked like a straight dude today- no offense or anything- I just mean he like hadn't shaved or done that thing he usually does to his hair." Finn motioned a hand to his own head.

"It's summer; he doesn't always dress like he's going to school." Kurt defended lamely, he had been aware of Blaine's unusual disorderliness as well. His mouth was a little chapped from his lover's neck, but he didn't feel like that was exactly the sort of observation to share at the dinner table.

"You ever meet his dad, Kurt?" Burt looked up from his plate.

Kurt shrugged, "Once or twice... not since we've been dating though."

"Blaine ever talk about him?" Burt tried to keep his tone light.

Kurt took a drink from his water glass to buy himself a minute while he contemplated how to answer, "Not often; they're not very close. His dad works a lot... why do you ask?"

"No reason; I was just chatting with him today and I got the feeling they didn't get along very well."

"Oh God, Dad; what did you say to him?" Kurt flushed; his father had never been easy on Blaine, and the idea of him interrogating him mortified Kurt to no end, especially with Blaine as on edge as he had been the past few weeks.

Burt held up both hands, "Jeez, relax. We just talked; I didn't threaten his life or anything like that for dating you. I called him to come out here today, remember?"

Kurt nodded slowly, "... thank you, by the way. It was nice seeing him."

Burt nodded, "He's welcome any time."

Finn entertained them by telling them about all the bewildering incidences of his improv class until Carol was clearing the table. When things were put back in order, she announced she was going to watch HGTV and promptly disappeared. Finn moved toward the basement to play with his X-Box (though he planned on steering clear of Call of Duty; he'd had enough role play for one day).

Kurt remembered the book still on his nightstand. Blaine's reading sessions had staggered out, but Kurt had continued on with the novel on his own. "I think I might go read for awhile."

"Wait up just a minute, Kurt; I wanted to talk to you about a few things." Burt pursed his lips, his eyes on the tabletop.

Uh-oh; that look was never a good thing. Kurt settled back into his chair, "What sort of things?"

"About Blaine."

This was definitely not good.

"I had asked for something more youthful for tonight, but this is all they could send me until nine-thirty; can you believe it?" Suzan Oakes touched a hand to her bun as though the debacle with the musical performance were actually physically ruffling her hair.

Shannon Anderson smiled politely, "It's not terrible by any means, but it is a bit old fashioned. I'm sure when they send in the replacement everything will be fine."

Blaine remained mute, watching the throngs of suits and dresses shift around him. Madeline was still attached to his arm, but she was conversing with a group of younger girls animatedly.

"-Could you Blaine, just one song?"

Blaine shook himself from his thoughts, "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"Suzan was hoping you'd sing; could you, dear?" His mother smiled hopefully at him.

"Blaine, you can sing?" Madeline's attention was back on him.

Blaine smiled nervously; "I, um..."

"He has a beautiful voice; I heard him myself at a show choir performance." Suzan boasted, her eyes still glued to Blaine.

"Oh, Blaine, you have to then! Kara's date plays guitar- he can go up there with you!" Madeline squeezed his free hand in hers, "Please, Blaine; for me?"

Blaine gazed around at the group of ladies staring back at him. He never could stand the face of a disappointed woman, let alone an entire pack, "...One song."

Madeline clapped her hands together, "I'll go find Kara; go on and get up there!"

Blaine smiled lamely for the females left with him that were still praising his willingness to perform until Suzan was dragging him toward the stage. When the jazz band that had been hired finished their number, she shooed the lead away from the microphone to give a long-winded introduction (and to remind everyone to make bids for the raffle).

A hand gave him a hearty clap on the back; he jumped.

"Sorry, man, didn't mean to sneak up on you." A red headed kid about a foot taller than him smiled ruefully when Blaine spun around to stare at him, "I'm Adam. Kara's date."

"Oh, right." Blaine shook his hand, he nodded toward the instrument in the other boy's hand, "You just happened to bring that along?"

Adam looked begrudgingly at the guitar, "Nah, it belongs to the Club. Man, I hate these things, you get suckered into taking your dad's work buddy's girl out to gossip with a bunch of other chicks and then they throw this shit at us."

Blaine smiled genuinely for the first time all night, "I know what you mean."

"Hey, so what song are we doing?"

Shit. "No idea."

"You wanna change that in the next thirty seconds or so?" Adam watched the jazz band filtering off the side of the stage.

Blaine tried to think quickly. What would the old Blaine Anderson have done? His eyes followed the procession off the stage. He grabbed the trumpet player at the front of the line by the arm, effectively stopping them all. "Can you guys do Michael Buble?"

The man looked to the others behind him for consensus. They nodded.

"Perfect. Get back up there." Blaine followed after them onto the stage, blushing at the applause and praying to God he wouldn't freeze up.

He remembered Kurt's fears at Regionals- opening his mouth to sing and nothing coming out; dying on stage... Blaine smiled to himself as he pulled the microphone from the stand.

"Let me know the song sometime tonight, please." Adam muttered in his ear.

"Feeling Good." Blaine gave him a wink. He took a breath and began, feeling the familiar rush from the sound of his own voice echoing out over a room. Despite everything the last month had brought out, he couldn't lie to himself: performing felt just as good as it ever did; a comfortable second skin. When he finished, the crowd roared (well, businessmen and trophy wives didn't really roar, but they did their best).

Madeline flung her arms around his neck as soon as he was off the stage, "Oh, Blaine, you were perfect!"

Blaine peeled her off as best he could, accepting the crowd's praise and admiration as he made his way back toward their table. He didn't even mind when total strangers squeezed his arm or patted him on the back. He wished he could rush to Lima and tell Kurt that, yes, as always, he had been right, things were going to get-

"Blaine." His father intercepted him. He was standing with someone Blaine didn't recognize. "There you are."

"Hi, Dad." Blaine smiled politely.

"That was some singing, Mr. Anderson." The mystery gentleman with his father clapped a hand down on Blaine's shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." Blaine couldn't help but feel the man's eyes were familiar... or the shape of his jaw line...something...

"Blaine's in his show choir at Dalton." His father smiled between his son and his colleague. "He's quite talented in the arts."

Blaine flushed beneath his father's praise; he didn't mention that his father hadn't been to one of his performances since he was in the church Christmas pageant when he was seven.

"Blaine, I don't think you've met many people from our law department; this is Oliver Marlow."

Marlow. That was it. Blaine shook his hand numbly.

"You know my son, Blaine; you two used to go to school together." Oliver smiled pleasantly at him. "He's actually here tonight, he escorted- oh, there he is-Eric!"

"We already talked about Blaine." Kurt said tersely.

"I know we did, but I wanted to talk one-on-one with you about some stuff." Burt studied Kurt's face.

"Like what?" Kurt studied his neatly manicured nails to avoid his father's gaze.

"Does his dad knock him around at all?"

"Of course not," Kurt snapped, but then hesitated, remembering the conversations between Blaine and Nadia. "... They clash, but his dad doesn't hit him."

Burt nodded, a little more at ease, but he wasn't done, "You know he never told them about those guys bullying him?"

"...Yes." Kurt glanced hesitantly at his father.

"And that didn't worry you at all?" Burt raised an eyebrow.

"Of course it did, but getting Blaine to talk about anything is almost impossible; I barely got him to talk to me-can you imagine trying to make him tell someone else?" Kurt clamped his mouth shut. Too much information.

"So he still has problems with it?" Burt pressed.

"No, he's at Dalton now."

"You know that's not what I meant, Kurt."

"Why does it matter to you, anyway?" Kurt snapped. These were not his secrets to spill. He reminded himself to apologize to Nadia for criticizing her muteness on Blaine's issues.

"Those boys almost killed you, Kurt." His father's voice was low; tense, "and you're telling me these guys beat on your boyfriend for years without anyone knowing. If his own father won't protect him, someone has to."

"I can protect him." Kurt snapped.

"Is that why this all happened?" Burt's voice got louder, he motioned a hand to Kurt's crutch leaned against the wall. "You are a child, Kurt, whether you like it or not, and this... this is not something children can deal with alone."

"We're fine!" Kurt felt angry tears sting his eyes.

"You are waking up screaming in the middle of the night-"

"-I had nightmares over David Karofsky and all he did was shove me around; I'm overly sensitive, you know that-this will go away. It's fine." Kurt wondered momentarily if this was how Blaine felt backing himself into corners.

"I can't make you tell me any different about how you're feeling, Kurt, but you know you have the right to be very, very upset over what happened to you and that I accept that and would do anything to help you, right?" Burt reached across the table to squeeze his son's hand.

"Yes," Kurt whispered.

Burt was silent for a moment before choosing his words carefully, "There is something going on here you're not telling me."

"I told you the nightmares will-"

"What about Blaine?" Burt held tight to Kurt's hand when he tried to pull it away.

"He's fine; all of this stresses him out; we're going to be fine." Kurt gritted his teeth to keep from shouting; how many times could he repeat himself?

"You are not fine. He is not fine." Burt pushed past the last barrier of awkwardness that held him back. "Do you love him, Kurt?"

Kurt looked up at his father in surprise. He nodded mutely.

"If Blaine won't go looking for help himself, then you need to do it for him. If you want to protect him, if you love him- you'll tell someone. It doesn't have to be me- tell the police, tell his mother, tell your psychiatrist, just don't convince yourself you're doing him any favors by helping him keep secrets." Burt slowly stood up from the table. "Just think about it for awhile, Kurt."

Kurt thought of Blaine. Sweet Blaine once so adorably spontaneous and yet as predictable as clockwork. Blaine screaming, Blaine crying; Blaine looking more and more lost every time some monster clawed at the confines of his head. "Dad."

Burt turned back to look at his son.

Kurt already felt familiar, hot tears rolling down his face; he had to force his voice out even just as a whisper, "There's something I have to tell you."

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

"Blaine." His father muttered his name, giving him a jab with his shoe.

Eric's hand was extended toward him, a grin on his face.

Blaine prayed no one else saw the way his hand trembled when he raised it to shake Eric's.

"Nice to see you again, Blaine. Nice song, too, by the way. I thought you were just into acting-jack of all trades, I guess." Eric smiled brightly.

"Guess so." Blaine cleared his throat. His tie was strangling him.

"We'll let you two catch up." His father and Oliver moved toward another pack of men in suits.

"Who's your friend, Blaine?" Madeline was back at his side, both arms hugged lightly around his arm.

Eric smiled for her and offered a hand. "Eric Marlow. Blaine and I were buddies back at New Albany."

"Oh, how exciting to get to run into each other again!" Madeline smiled brightly at Blaine then at Eric, "I'm Madeline Bennett."

"Charmed." Eric glanced over his shoulder, "I'm here with Keira Portman- she's friends with Nadia Fisher, Blaine."

Blaine nodded mutely. Madeline's grip on him was making him claustrophobic.

"Keira's doing raffle chairing with me tonight!" Madeline turned to study Blaine's face, "who's Nadia?"

"Old friend." Blaine muttered, he noted people shifting toward the tables. "I think they're starting dinner; do you want to sit down, Madeline?"

"Kara's got the place cards; I'll go get ours," Madeline started to move away from Blaine, but then turned back to squeeze his arm, "Call me Maddie, Blaine."

Blaine nodded and watched her go.

"Oh, she's pretty, Blaine." Eric's shoulder was touching his, his eyes also following the flouncing back of Madeline's white dress, "Not as pretty as Kurt though, is she?"

"I should fucking kill you right here." Blaine snarled. The fury he felt terrified him, but he couldn't suppress it.

"Our fathers wouldn't like that one bit-bad for business, you know. And you might get blood on Maddie's pretty dress." Eric turned his head to smile at Blaine, "Besides, that would leave you in a very confounding position."

Blaine fell mute and tried to gather his wits. He glanced around at the crowds of people, taking comfort in the numbers of them.

Eric was watching him, he chuckled, "a public place has never saved you before, Blaine."

Blaine glanced at Eric, "The boys aren't here."

"That wasn't a problem either, was it?" Eric's eyes scanned Blaine once.

He involuntarily took a step away. He scanned the throngs for a familiar face.

Eric caught hold of his forearm, "Don't go running off, Blaine. Maddie will never be able to find you."

Blaine recoiled from Eric's hold, "Don't touch me."

"You're going to cause a scene, Blaine." Eric made eye contact with another one of the junior league members and smiled.

"I got them!" Madeline was back; waving two little folded place cards in one hand and pulling another girl behind her with the other.

"Blaine, you look so different!" It was Keira, she beamed at Blaine, "Nadia said she's been seeing more of you these days, but she didn't tell me you got gorgeous!"

Normally Blaine would have laughed and teased her that she looked as pretty as ever, but with Eric's eyes on him all he could do was offer a feeble smile, "Nice to see you again, Keira."

"We did some swapping around and now the four of us are sitting together; isn't it wonderful?" Madeline handed Blaine his card.

"Absolutely perfect." Eric agreed; he offered his arm to his date.

Blaine wondered briefly if he could fake that he was sick and leave, but then Madeline was pulling him along beside her. He pulled her chair out for her numbly. He took the seat across from her, dropping his name card on top of the white tablecloth. Eric sat down beside him.

Eric immediately leaned in, his breath hot on Blaine's ear. "You never called me, darling."

Blaine looked over at Madeline; she was prattling away to his mother beside her. Shannon Anderson smiled at her son when their eyes met.

Servers were putting plates down in front of guests. Eric took a long drink from his water glass. "Anything to say for yourself?"

"Nothing comes to mind." Blaine struggled to force each syllable out.

Eric's eyes moved over to Madeline. "Miss Bennett seems to be quite taken by you, Blaine."

Blaine stared at the plate that had been placed in front of him.

"I wonder if she'd fight off your big bad bullies for you," Eric picked up his fork and knife, cutting into the steak on his plate.

"I told you to leave him out of this." Blaine kept his voice low.

"Hey, I'm sure you've heard the police report by now- he came after me. I'm still a little upset about that, by the way; he broke my nose." Eric stuck his fork in his mouth, looking a little put off

Blaine couldn't help himself. He turned his gaze to analyze Eric's profile, and, sure enough, a small bump stood out just slightly from his otherwise perfect nose.

Eric caught his eye and Blaine had no choice but to hold his gaze, "He's lucky I told the boys to go easy."

"You almost killed him." Blaine snapped. He ignored the few glances his tone elicited.

"Hush," Eric looked calmly around the people around them, "Almost and did are two very different things, Blaine. I made the decision between those two. Keep your bitch on a leash or I won't be so kind next time."

"Watch it." Blaine started to get to his feet, ready to attack Eric right there.

Eric caught a hold of his arm when he was only a few inches off his seat. "Sit. Down. Now."

Blaine felt an old familiar numbness force him back down.

Eric checked on their tablemates again before speaking in his same purring tone, "Don't get jealous, Blaine; he and I didn't share what we have together."

Blaine turned his eyes toward the stage when he saw a woman approaching the microphone. A speech would mean an end to chatter- he willed her forward faster.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen-"

Blaine tried to focus on her words; steady his head. He felt a slender ankle rubbing against his leg. Madeline. Great. He ignored her advances, and wondered idly if he should go ahead and tell her it wasn't Nadia she should be jealous of...

A hand on his knee beneath the tablecloth. Eric's hand. Blaine felt his stomach twist, his throat constrict. He glanced at his parents. His father met his gaze and nodded toward the stage, indicating he should be paying attention.

Blaine turned his eyes forward again, trying to shift away from Eric meant moving into Madeline's advances, but Blaine was content to deal with that dilemma later.

Madeline's eyes met his. She smiled coyly.

Eric's hand moved up his leg. This wasn't happening. Not here. Not now.

People were applauding; the speech was over, and people shifted their attention back to their conversations and their meals. Madeline's foot at his knee, Eric's hand all the way up his leg. Blaine shot to his feet, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. All eyes moved to him.

"Blaine." His mother scolded with a frown.

"Blaine, are you all right?" Madeline's cheeks were flushed.

"Yes, Blaine, what seems to be the problem?" Eric peered up at him with concern.

Blaine fought every urge to clamp his hands down over his ears. "I- I'm fine. I just need some air. I'll be right back."

He stumbled between chairs and ignored the few pleasant voices that called out to commend his earlier performance until he was surrounded by cool night air and twilight. He weaved between cars in the lot, gulping in the humid oxygen around him to steady his pounding heart, but it was no use. He ended up vomiting between a Cadillac and a BMW. He leaned against the little black 3-series. The sky was littered with cold white lights. Blaine counted.

"Goodness, you always have been such a sensitive soul, Blaine-y."

The voice, suddenly so close, made Blaine jump; he almost tripped over his own feet.

Eric was leaned against the hood of the Cadillac. He smiled. "Isn't life funny? How it just keeps bringing us back together?"

"Hilarious." Blaine muttered, he glanced back toward the Country Club. They were far enough away that the sound was muted to a soft single note.

"Really though, B, fate is such a lovely tangle of a web, isn't it?" Eric straightened up and moved toward Blaine. He stepped over where Blaine had been sick, rolling his eyes.

Blaine backed away until his back bumped the grill of an SUV.

"First there was you and me and the boys at New Albany," Eric didn't seem to mind Blaine's retreat; he followed after him in a leisurely pace. "Then that day in the park, and then Kurt's little rendezvous with us, and now here we are again. You and me."

Blaine decided it was high time he made a break for it-at least get back inside.

Eric was one step ahead of him as always, "I've wanted to get some alone time with you all night, Blaine-y, and I know that look on your face- you want to run away from me."

Blaine tried to devise a mental path for which cars would be quickest to cut between.

"Don't even fucking think about it." Eric's voice went flat. "I will make sure you think twice in the future if you take one fucking step right now."

"What could you possibly do to me?" Blaine turned his full gaze on Eric. "What the fuck could you possibly have left to take from me?"

Eric smiled like he'd been hoping for that question all night. "Kurt."

Blaine felt his fingers clench into his palms.

"And don't tell me I couldn't get away with it." Eric chuckled and nodded his head toward the Club, "in case you hadn't noticed, I have an excellent lawyer."

"You can't get away with murder." Blaine felt dizzy, his fingers reached out to steady himself on the nearest vehicle.

Eric looked genuinely surprised for a moment before smiling again, moving forward until he was only inches from him, "Oh, Blaine, silly boy."

Blaine could smell cinnamon gum on his breath he was so close; he tried to keep his voice level, "You couldn't."

Eric gazed steadily into his eyes, reached up, and brushed his thumb over Blaine's forehead, "I wouldn't kill him."

"Do not even fucking think about touching him. I swear to God, I'll fucking kill you." Blaine slammed Eric's back into the hood of the car parallel to them.

Eric didn't look upset; he laughed, "Aw, Jesus, Blaine. You are too cute when you get all hot and bothered over that kid. Now, be a good boy and let go of me."

Blaine held tight to Eric's jacket, glowering.

"What are you gonna do, Blaine, huh?" Eric looked irritated. "Your fucking parents are right there."

Blaine released his hold and backed away a few paces.

"Now listen and listen good;" Eric smoothed his jacket; straightened his tie. "I know where he lives, and I have no problem taking a little stroll on down to Lima to visit; he just got out of the hospital, didn't he? I'd love to drop by and check on his recovery."

"What do you want from me, Eric?" Blaine sagged against the car.

Eric smiled, "I just want you back in my life, Blaine. Starting tonight. Just like old times."

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment; half hoping he could wake up screaming in his own bed. Anything else. Anywhere else. He opened his eyes; Eric was watching him expectantly.

"Your choice, Blaine." Eric shrugged.

Speech production's a funny thing. Auditory neurons firing, upper level synapses turning intentions into phonatory cues, phonatory cues into muscle plans, muscle plans into movements. All that work for a simple combination of sounds. Sounds that could seal fate. "Okay."

"Okay what?" Eric queried innocently.

Blaine swallowed, "You. Me."

"I'm so glad you feel that way," Eric straightened his tie. "Two AM. Cops will be patrolling the streets for drunks. We'll have plenty of time to ourselves."

"Where?" Blaine mumbled.

"Back lot of the park; I know how special that place has become to you."

Blaine nodded mutely.

Eric clapped a hand down on his shoulder. "Lets get back inside before we cause a scandal. Little Maddie's waiting for you, you know."

Blaine let Eric push him back toward the party, chattering away about how much he had loved being in English class with Blaine when they attended school together. "Remember T.S. Eliot, Blaine, you loved that shit!"

Blaine didn't respond, all of his will power was going toward the movement of his feet and suppressing the bile in his throat.

Eric didn't mind his silence; instead, as they re-entered the party, he whispered in his ear.

"This is the way the world ends,

This is the way the world ends,

This is the way the world ends.

Not with a bang but a whimper"