"Chocolate chip?" he asked her quietly, and she met his gaze for a confused half-second before rolling her eyes exasperatedly—Kurt must have actually sat her down and given her a master-class in that one. For all her quiet diplomacy and level-headedness, when something was bothering her, she became the carbon copy of her Papa.

"Dad, I'm fifteen," she said heavily, but turned and walked into the kitchen anyway, climbing into one of Kurt's trendy stools at the island bank and protesting weakly, "way too old for Feel-Better Pancakes."

"They're a start, though," Blaine countered as he tossed the now-burnt pancake straight into the garbage disposal and deposited a fresh ladle of batter into the pan, watching it for a second before reaching up to retrieve the fat pack of chocolate chips he kept for just such an occasion. Silence reigned for a few moments, until he flipped the pancake and scattered a handful of chips on top, and Audrey came to stand next to him to watch them melt into tiny, warm puddles. "What happened?"

Audrey sniffed loudly and tore off some paper towel to wipe under her eyes. As she screwed it up and tossed it into the trash, leaning forward heavily on the counter top, she let out a shaky sigh. “Ryan dumped me.”

“Oh, honey,” Blaine said sympathetically, sliding the pancake onto a waiting plate and pulling his daughter into a hug. After a second, she relaxed into the embrace and clung to him tightly, shaking with the fresh wave of tears that overtook her. “Here, come sit down and tell me about it.”

“He-he said... He told me he loved me, Daddy,” Audrey managed, hiccuping a little between her words, and Blaine squeezed her hand as they sat down by the island. “And then at the—at the party on Saturday he wanted to...”

Blaine's jaw clenched—he didn't even need Audrey to finish her sentence to know what Ryan wanted to do to his little girl. He closed his eyes, quickly counted to ten and let out a breath. This was all happening way too soon. Yesterday, Audrey had her chubby little arms wrapped around his knees, walking on his feet as he shuffled through the house to old Elvis songs.

“Were you safe?” he asked, and Audrey blushed to her roots.

“Daddy, we didn't... I didn't—I'm still—“ she spluttered, and Blaine held his hand up.

“Okay. Okay, good,” he interrupted, swallowing hard and examining the grain of the work surface in all of its minute detail. “So tell me what happened after.”

“That's what I don't get, Dad! He was fine at the party when I told him I wasn't ready. Nothing was any different!” she exclaimed, the frustration and confusion clear in her voice. “We didn't text all Sunday, but he had a huge paper to write, so I didn't... And then today everyone was looking at me and whispering, and then I found him hanging out with Luke and that douchebag Trey, and they were all laughing and calling me f-frigid... And then Ryan just said, 'sorry babe, don't think it's gonna work out between us'.”

Blaine wanted to end this kid. He hadn't felt anger so potent in what felt like an age, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the counter. He was going to track Ryan down and wipe the smug look off his face—he'd never liked him, even when Audrey spent the entire week after he asked her out wandering around in a dreamy daze. Even when the look on her face had reminded him of the way every floor felt like a cloud after he'd kissed Kurt for the first time.

“Daddy, please say something,” Audrey implored him, her voice tiny. “You have the crazy eyes right now.”

“I'm sorry, honey,” Blaine said, the bright anger burning out into dull embers that settled at the back of his throat. “You did the right thing, okay? I know it hurts, and that you probably feel like you don't ever want to go back there, right?”

Audrey nodded mutely.

“You did the right thing,” Blaine repeated, thumbing over the back of her hand until finally, she met his gaze. “It gets better, I promise. Just keep Bianca and the girls around you and in a couple days, everyone will have forgotten about it.”

“Okay,” Audrey sighed, hopping from her stool and gathering up her bag. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Hey,” Blaine said, lightly catching her wrist. “Don't... When the time comes, obviously I want you to promise me you'll be safe and smart about it. And you know that if you have questions, or you're worried, you can talk to me and Papa, right?”

Audrey nodded, hooking her thumb into the strap of her bag and staring intently at the floor as her cheeks turned furiously red.

“I want to tell you something that your Grandpa Burt told Papa when he was about your age,” Blaine continued. “He told Papa not to throw himself around like he didn't matter. And I'm telling you the same thing, Hep. You're smart, and funny, and beautiful, and special. You matter. Just make sure that whoever you... Whoever you choose, make sure that he or she sees that, too. Okay?”

Audrey looked at him for a moment, smiling a little at his use of her old nickname, and then stepped forward to hug him again. “I promise. I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Hep. Don't forget your pancake.”

Just then, the front door slammed open with a bang, and Oliver trudged into the kitchen, head hanging as Kurt stormed in after him.

“Room, Oliver. Now,” he ordered, and Blaine exchanged a bewildered glance with his daughter.

“Dad, can you please tell Papa that—“

“Whoa. Leave me out of this one, Twist,” Blaine interrupted, holding his hands up, and Kurt's scowl softened by a degree. “Whatever the punishment is, I'm sure it fits the crime.”

“Unbelievable,” Oliver muttered, taking a soda from the fridge and stalking past his parents. Suddenly, Audrey stepped in front of him and grabbed his hand; Blaine noticed his bruised and bloodied knuckles as Audrey stared at her brother in shock and gratitude. She hugged him, briefly but tightly, and he followed her out of the kitchen with a little less slump in his shoulders.

“Band-Aids are on the top shelf!” Kurt called after them, a little guilt evident in his tone.

Blaine pivoted on his stool to face his husband and raised his eyebrows in question. Kurt let out a groan, stepped between Blaine's knees and dropped his head onto his shoulder. “Our son punched someone today.”

“Ryan?”

“Yes, actually,” Kurt said, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Long story. I'll let Aud fill you in if she wants to, but trust me when I say he deserved it.”

“Well, now I feel guilty,” Kurt grumbled. “He's grounded for a week.”

“Rightly so. He may have been defending his sister but he broke the 'no fighting' rule,” Blaine said reassuringly. “And anyway, haven't we been saying we wanted to get out to the villa for a while, now? This weekend could be the perfect chance.”

“Hmm. Sounds good. I could use a break,” Kurt breathed, pressing a soft kiss to Blaine's lips. “We've done a good job so far, right?”

“Definitely. So good, in fact, that I think it merits a high five,” Blaine said earnestly, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers. Kurt's mouth twisted as he fought back a smile, but he high-fived his husband all the same.

“Such a dork,” he muttered, settling forward into Blaine's arms.

“You love me.”

“Over and over.”