2004

Blaine is cross-legged on the bed, looking down at the script and drumming his fingers against his knee. Almost like he's bored.

"Are you even paying attention?"

He looks up, eyes wide.

"Yeah, Coop. Of course."

"'Cause this is really important, Blainey. If this audition goes well, it could skyrocket my entire career."

Blaine blinks, hard, like he's trying not to roll his eyes, and while Cooper appreciates the effort, it's really not worth much if Blaine can't commit to it. He's about to say as much, but Blaine cuts him off.

"I didn't know a supporting role in the Lima Playhouse production of The Music Man counted as a career."

"Fine. It could start my career, then. This could mean big things for me."

Blaine opens his mouth, then closes it again. He sighs.

"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry, I'll pay better attention this time."

He smiles and waits, watching Cooper expectantly.

That's better.

Cooper clears his throat, shakes out his arms, rolls his neck. He clears his throat again. He needs to be loose for this. He needs to be his best. It would mean getting paid.

He looks down, breathes in. Once, twice. He's ready. He looks up, plastering his biggest and brightest smile all over his face, the one that makes the girls at the Lima Bean leave him extra-generous tips and slip their phone numbers into the jar.

"Hey, you!" He points at Blaine with an improvised flourish. He winks, and oh, god, that's genius. He's totally getting this part. "Yeah, you! Do you like saving money on car insurance? What about home owners' insurance? Life insurance? 'Cause we sure do, and we want to help you! Come on down and join us at Lima's own Titan Insurance and get a free quote today. And remember, Titan Insurance is quality insurance – guaranteed. Find out how much you can save, today!" He winks again, rakish and charming, and holds it for a few seconds before dropping his head down. "Scene."

"That was way better," says Blaine a moment later, after he's let it sink in. He's smiling – impressed, probably, with the new directions that Cooper is taking his physical acting. It felt awesome. "You were totally off book that time."

Cooper waits a moment for Blaine to collect his thoughts, but he appears to be done. He averts his gaze.

Something sinks a little in Cooper's chest. He ignores it.

"Well, yeah, but what did you think? I mean, would you buy insurance from this face?" He smiles, to demonstrate.

"Um. Yeah, sure, of course I would. I mean, you're my brother."

It sinks a little further. He shoves it away.

"Should I get my teeth whitened? Or – I know! Do you think there's enough pointing?"

"Yes. Definitely enough pointing. It's just..."

"What? Come on, Blainey, spit it out, would you?"

Blaine pauses, biting his lip reluctantly, and Cooper is just starting to get annoyed at his dramatics when he finally opens his mouth to reply.

"I just...wonder if this is really a good move for you. Career-wise, I mean."

"What? Why?"

"The script is so...corny. The production values are probably terrible, and I'm sure they wouldn't be paying you very much."

Cooper scoffs.

"Of course they won't. It'll be my first gig, I'm not expecting a fortune. But, you know, as they say, there are no small parts – " He pauses, lets it sit, holds out the tension. Blaine watches him, waiting. " – only small actors."

He winks, and Blaine smiles thinly back. Cooper throws himself onto the bed beside his brother and slings an arm over his shoulders. Blaine's got his skinny little arms crossed over his chest.

"You just wait. This is only the beginning for me, squirt. Soon, I'll be famous and you'll be saying 'I knew him when.' Just you wait."

Blaine's smile drops. Cooper jostles his shoulder, hoping to knock the serious out of him. God knows Blaine needs it. Blaine looks up and smiles once more.

"Yeah, you're right. Did you want to run it again?"

"Not today. I really feel like I'm getting the hang of this thing. I don't want to mess up my flow."

Blaine nods. He uncrosses his arms, holds them loosely in his lap.

"Okay. Do you think...?" He stops.

"What?"

"It's nothing. I was just...you know how I have that concert on Saturday?"

"The choir thing, right."

"Yeah. I was just going to go practice, and I thought maybe you might want to listen?"

"You want some tips from your big brother? Of course! I'm always happy to lend my expertise."

"Okay, great. I'll just go get my music."

Blaine hops off the bed with one last smile, a real Blaine smile this time, the kind that makes Cooper feel about ten feet tall. He can't help but smile back.

This will be good. He's heard snippets of Blaine practicing in his room, and he's on the right track. He still has that tendency to go pitchy when the choreography is too complicated or he gets too into the song, but he can fix that with a little guidance. He's talented, and he's got Cooper. He'll be fine.

Cooper flops back on his bed, thoughts drifting once more to his upcoming audition.

He has a good feeling about this one. He's right on the verge of being discovered, he knows it, and then he can finally move out of his parents' house and get his ass on a plane to LA. Once he gets there, everything will fall into place. He'll get an agent, he'll land the starring role in an oh-so-charming, instantly-popular pilot for a major network, and that will be that.

He'll have fans, lots of them, girls who are so overcome that they cry when they meet him and women who ask him to sign their breasts. He'll present at the Emmys and the Golden Globes. He'll be interviewed by Ellen and tell fond, quirky stories about his small-town upbringing.

His family will come out to visit him, and he'll get them into the swankiest celebrity restaurants without a reservation and put the whole meal on his card. His father will beam at him with pride.

And Blaine will never, never stop looking at him with stars in his eyes.

He just needs to get through this audition first.

&&&&&

Meetings like this one are always uncomfortable. Especially with someone like Burt Hummel, whose interpersonal style can best be described as "gruff." He's a man's man, raising a son who is anything but. She can't imagine that it's been easy for either of them.

"First of all," she says, with the brightest smile she can manage. "I'd like to congratulate you on raising such a bright kid. I can tell you right away that I have no concerns for your son academically. He is extremely creative and intelligent, as I'm sure you know."

He grunts in acknowledgement. "Gets it from his mother."

"His weakest subject is math, but he still manages to do quite well."

"That, he gets from me."

She smiles, but it fades quickly.

"His...difficulties are really more social. He does have the skills to make friends, I think, but he seems to find it...difficult."

He raises his eyebrows, but, otherwise, his expression gives nothing away. She unfolds her hands and reaches up to pluck at the pendant hanging right between her collarbones, at the base of her throat. It's a nervous tell that she hates.

"Is that so?"

"He has a few friends, but no one he seems particularly close to. I did wonder if maybe it might have something to do with your wife's passing."

He freezes for a moment, glances down. He fiddles with the baseball cap in his hands.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie and say it's not possible."

"But you don't think so."

He looks up and meets her eyes. Gone is the mild politeness that's been there since they shook hands across her desk. His gaze is sharp and cutting.

"I just wonder, is all. He's never had the easiest time making friends. I wonder if that's really down to him."

"He isn't being bullied, if that's what you mean. The occasional teasing, perhaps, but no more than any other kid. It's bound to happen in a class of this size, no matter what precautions we take to prevent it."

He eyes her for a moment, skeptically.

"Look. Can I be frank here?"

"Please."

"I don't know about you, but I remember being 11 years old. And I can tell you now, there is no way that I would have been friends with a kid like Kurt. I would have been more likely to throw spitballs at him. I'm not proud of that, of course, but it's the truth. I know how cruel kids can be to people who are different."

She's taken slightly aback at his candor, but she takes care not to show it on her face.

"You're probably right, Mr. Hummel. Your son certainly is different. And it's not entirely his fault that he doesn't fit in. But there are some suggestions I could offer that might make things a little easier for him. I would never want to stifle his individuality, of course, but some of his...eccentricities might be better suited for a home environment. Especially as he gets older."

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Like what, exactly?"

"Well, for instance, some of his clothes might better serve as weekend wear."

"He get picked on for his clothes?"

"Sometimes."

He thinks for a moment, eyes still slightly narrowed.

She waits. She can be patient. She has a strong feeling that this meeting would go south very quickly if she weren't.

Finally, he shifts in his seat and sighs.

"You may have a point. I don't like it, but there it is. I know he gets lonely sometimes. It would be good for him to have some kids his own age to talk to."

"I'll do what I can from this end, Mr. Hummel, but you should think about what I said. Give him a safe space at home and maybe set up a few rules about what is and isn't appropriate to wear to school. Encourage him to participate in school activities, maybe even a sports team. He's a lovely kid. I really just want to make sure that his classmates get a chance to find that out for themselves."

He nods, thoughtful.

"Thanks. I'll think about it. Is that it, then?"

"Oh, yes. Unless you have any more concerns you wish to discuss?"

He shakes his head.

"Nope."

"Alright. Until next time, then."

He stands up and shakes her hand one last time.

"Have a nice night," he says, smoothing his cap back over his head as he ambles over to the open door.

She waits until after he's left to sigh. She's still optimistic they can make something good happen for Kurt – give him enough guidance now that he can navigate the rocky teenage years without drowning.

She can't help but worry, though.