Kurt Hummel was the son of one of the richest men in the world and waking up with a headache from a long night of drinking was not welcome, but nevertheless familiar. Waking to another man in his bed, however, was unusual. Not unusual because Kurt was unused to bringing one-night stands home, but because none of them ever stayed the night.

For a moment, Kurt didn't know what to do. Did he try to go back to sleep so that the other woke up and left, did he himself wake him up and tell him to leave, or did Kurt just head into his bathroom for his morning routine and hope that the man – what was his name again? – left while he was busy preparing for the day?

In the time it had taken Kurt to consider what he might do, however, his choices were taken from him. Because, the man gave a groan and turned to his back all while rubbing his eyes.

"What…where—" he yawned, "—am I?

He was a handsome boy with dirty blond hair that fell into his eyes, blue irises that Kurt remembered having met from across the dance floor, eyes that had made him promise himself he would have a taste of that boy. Still, the name escaped him.

"In my room," he spoke up, and coughed.

"Oh."

He looked at Kurt, then, and gasped. "You're…"

Kurt tried not to look bored, but his patience was really growing thin and his head was still throbbing.

"Kurt Hummel, yes," Kurt said and then slipped off the bed, bringing his sheet with him to wrap around his waist.

"Did we?" He asked, and then lifted the blanket that covered him, "oh, I guess we…" He seemed excited, happy about this prospect. "God, that's so cool!" he exclaimed suddenly, "not a lot of guys could say they had sex with Kurt Hummel…and you were my first too and that's just so…Matt's never going to believe this happened."

"Right," Kurt said, deciding at last that he couldn't handle having this stranger in his room, even if they had slept with each other some six hours before, "listen, I'm going to go into my bathroom, and by the time I get back, I don't want to see you here."

A flash of hurt crossed the boy's eyes and Kurt knew he was being a bit abrasive, but this was just who he was and he couldn't really be expected to coddle the boy just because he'd taken his virginity. The boy on the bed nodded and looked away.

Kurt bit down on his lip and thought for a moment that maybe he could say something, explain that it wasn't him…it was just how Kurt was. Instead he walked towards his bathroom and closed the door. He leaned against the door for a while and then put himself together. He really needed to stop picking up random boys at clubs. He got into the shower, after dropping the sheet in a hamper.

The shower did wonders for him, washing away the sweat and grime from what he was starting to remember as a rather hot round of sex. It cleared his head a bit and by the time he was pulling a silk bathrobe on and dropping into a chair in front of his vanity, he even thought he remembered that he'd picked up the other boy because he looked so very different from the only boy that would actually hold his heart.

Kurt rubbed moisturizer on his face after he'd finished with a number of other products from his morning skin care regime and brushed his hair back out of his face, before getting up and walking through a different door than the one that led to his room, into a walk-in-closet that was at least half the size of his bedroom.

He chose his outfit carefully, changing and exchanging articles of clothing until he was satisfied in dark skinny jeans and a button up shirt and bowtie. Kurt took a deep breath before leaving his closet through the door that led back to his bedroom. For all he knew, the boy could still be there, and he'd have to deal with him again. Luckily, he was gone, and had even left the door to his room open.

Kurt sighed. That was one last thing that he might have to worry about. He went back to the bathroom to style his hair, sweeping it back from his forehead and spraying copious amounts of hairspray over it. After deeming himself presentable he left his room, walking down the long, well decorated hallway to a wide staircase that would take him down to the main foyer, the sitting room, dining room, and kitchen.

When he entered the dining room, a rather large room, aptly decorated like the rest of the house in elegant creams, whites, and browns, it was to find his family already seated around the table large round table eating breakfast.

His father, Burt Hummel sat in a suit, nursing a cup of coffee as he read the morning paper. Next to him Carole, Kurt's stepmother, was pouring milk into a cup for her youngest grandchild, Ryan.

Ryan and his older sister sat side by side with their own stacks of chocolate chip pancakes. Next to them, Kurt's stepbrother Finn, munched on a piece of toast, his attention more focused on his wife that the kids. Rachel Berry talked loudly and much too fast about yet another role that she was considering auditioning for.

"I don't need the money of course, and the director is not someone I've worked with before, but you know it could be good to get back to it for a while. But I do want to see how it goes with that tv-show. I don't know, Finn, I'll really have to think hard on this. And of course I have to think of the kids and…"

"Good Morning, everyone," Kurt said as he stepped into the room.

There was a cry of, "Uncle Kurt!" from his six year old niece, Shelby, who tried to push off of the table to get off her chair but was restrained by Finn.

Kurt laughed and walked to her side to drop a kiss to her forehead, "I think you should finish eating before any running around," he suggested.

She pushed her head back to look up at him. "But I want to play you with you," she said quickly.

"After breakfast, okay. I promise." He ruffled her hair a bit, "I have to eat now too, you know."

As soon as her daughter had become distracted by breakfast again, Rachel turned to Kurt who had sat down in the empty chair between her and his father.

"So, who was he?" She asked at once, "We saw him leaving."

"Practically ran to the elevator poor thing," Carole added, with a tilt of her head.

Burt looked up from his newspaper, but merely glanced at Kurt and said nothing. Kurt knew his father didn't like his behavior. Neither did Carole, or Finn, or Rachel, come to think of it.

Kurt felt his cheeks warm up a bit. "Someone I met last night…he's no one."

Rachel pouted and shook her head. "Finn tell him, tell him how much better it is when you're actually in love with the person."

Kurt stared at her, waiting for what Finn would do. Finn looked like a startled deer and opened and closed his mouth for a moment, before, "whatever she said, bro."

He didn't want to remind them, because of the memories it brought, that he did know. Kurt knew what it was like when you loved the other person. But he couldn't get him back. It just wasn't possible, and there was no one else out there for Kurt.

Kurt laughed a humorless and tried to act nonchalant as he pulled at the bowl of cut up fruit, which he practically emptied onto his plate. He hadn't taken more than a few bites when the phone rang, loudly in the next room.

They heard one of the maids running to get the phone and a few minutes later, she stood with the wireless, at the door. "Mr. Hummel," she said, "they want a word with you."

"Who is it Maria?"

"The police."

Burt stood up and brushed off his clothes, before taking the phone. He didn't leave the room to take the call, but answered it right then and there.

"Hello."

In the silence that had befallen the room, they could hear just barely the voice of a gruff man with a heavy New York accent.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Hummel, that I have bad news for you. Mr. Anderson is dead."

Kurt was still as possible. He couldn't believe it. For a moment he didn't want to believe it. His father must have had the same reaction, because he said nothing for a long time.

"His plane was found earlier this morning in the Long Island Sound."

Kurt dropped his fork and leaned back in his chair, suddenly not hungry. Instead something else churned in his stomach.

"Are you sure he's…" Burt didn't have to finish the sentence.

"His body hasn't been found, but…"

Burt sighed. "It was his plane. He'd boarded it."

Carole had gotten up and gone to Burt's side by then, and steered him towards his chair, taking the phone from him and quickly assuring the police officer that they were fine, and hanging up.

Kurt continued to sit still, not thinking about Mr. Anderson in particular, but another Anderson and what his reaction to Drew Anderson's death would be.

- - -

Blaine Anderson had just stepped into his office, when his secretary's phone went off. Daisy answered the phone and he mouthed a hello as he headed into his office, closing the door behind him and dropping his suitcase by his desk.

The office was small, cramped if he was being truthful. One wall, the one behind his desk, held shelves full of books. Other than the desk and two chairs right in front of it, the room didn't hold much else. It was neatly arranged, but it was still not the kind of office that Blaine had ever imagined having when he'd decided to follow in his father's footsteps and become a lawyer.

On his desk a few picture frames greeted him when he sank into his comfortable chair. One of those pictures he paid extra attention to, the one that held his to be husband and their daughter, Amelia. He smiled at the picture for a moment, letting himself wish for a moment that he was back home with Nick and Amelia. His moment was cut short when Daisy pushed open his door, looking nervous.

"Blaine," she said, "it's about your father…"

He began to shake his head. "No," he said at once, "I don't want to talk to him, I've said it a thousand times. I want nothing to do with that man, when is he ever going to…"

Daisy shook her head, stopping him, "it's not…it isn't that. Blaine, your dad is…he's dead."

And suddenly, the world was tilted on its hilt.

Although Blaine had not talked to his father in over a year, he would never have wished for his father to come to any harm. He just hadn't wanted to bring the world his father lived in to his family, into his life, not when everything was finally looking up for him.

"What…what happened?"

"His plane crashed into the Long Island Sound…you'll have to talk to the police yourself, I didn't think you'd want to hear it from them. I can start making arrangements for…"

Blaine cut her off, "there's no need," he said, "I'm sure the Hummels will take care of everything."

"Right," Daisy nodded and stood awkwardly in his office for a moment, before she asked, "should I cancel the rest of your day?"

Blaine considered it for a moment. It wasn't that he wouldn't be able to afford not being in for the whole day, or even missing several, but he didn't know if he could handle being idle for the rest of the day. He knew that eventually he would have to talk to Burt Hummel, that eventually he would have to make those hard decisions that they couldn't make up for him. Later that night, he would have to tell Nick and maybe even have to make the call to England to tell his mom.

"No," he said, "I…I need to keep my mind off of it."

It was harder said than done. Throughout the rest of the day, Blaine kept thinking back to all the times he'd turned his father away, told him to not bother him. He thought back to the times when he'd been disappointed by a father too busy with work to care about him. And then, because it came with the territory, he thought about the Hummels.

Mr. Anderson had worked for Burt Hummel since before Blaine had even been born. He was the family lawyer, which meant for all intents and purposes that he was at the beck and call of every one of the Hummels whenever they ran into any sort of trouble. It had cut into every day of Blaine's life as a child. And he'd been dragged along into the world of money that the Hummels inhabited.

His mother had always been wary of their family becoming too much of a fixture with the Hummels. She'd easily gotten accustomed to the kind of money that her husband was making, but she'd also hated the way that his work took him away from her and Blaine.

It hadn't come as much of a surprise when one day, she took Blaine and left. He'd gone from one parent to the other for years before he ended up at Dalton Academy, and there was when his problems had begun and they came in the form of Burt Hummel's only son, Kurt.

Thinking about Kurt was a thought path that Blaine nipped right in the bud, because he knew where those thoughts led, and it wasn't a good place.

About halfway through the day, Blaine gave up on doing any work. Anything he had managed to get done had been done half-heartedly and Blaine knew he'd have to go over everything again.

"I think I'm going to head home, Daisy," he called through the open door and gathered his things.

"Okay," she said and came into the office, "I'll clear your schedule for the rest of the day. I know…I know you and your father had your issues, but this is probably still hard, I just…I'm here for you, you know."

Blaine nodded. "I know, Daisy. Thank you. If there really is anything that I might need to look over, just give me a call."

"Sure."

She stepped towards him, then, and hugged him. Blaine was surprised for a moment, but hugged her back.

"Thank you," he muttered.

Daisy handed him his briefcase and motioned for him to leave. Blaine nodded, and after looking back at his desk to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, finally left the office.

It didn't take him long to get home, even on foot, and when he stepped inside, it was to laughter and the sounds of the tv on.

"Blaine?" Nick's voice called from the living room.

Blaine walked towards the living room. "Hey," he said and dropped his things where he usually did, briefcase leaning against the wall and his coat over a chair.

"What are you doing home?" Nick had tipped his head back on the couch he was sitting, and looked up at Blaine in concern, "what happened?"

He stood up from the couch, still in pajamas, his dark hair messy and unkempt. His green eyes swept over Blaine with worry and curiosity.

"What happened Blaine?"

Nick walked to stand in front of Blaine.

"My dad's dead," Blaine whispered. It made it so much more real to say it out loud, to actually tell Nick what had happened.

Nick covered his mouth with one hand, and his eyes widened in shock. "Oh, Blaine," he said a second later and then he was pulling Blaine into his arms, making a soothing sound, "I'm so sorry."

Blaine rested his head against Nick's neck and just breathed him in. "His plane crashed into the Long Island Sound apparently. He was probably doing something for the Hummels. He always was."

Nick steered him towards the couch he'd been occupying and sat him down. He turned off the tv, and then turned his attention back to Blaine.

"I don't know what to do," Blaine said, "I have to call mom, and I guess I'll have to talk to Burt Hummel eventually…and…I don't even know."

Nick pulled him against him. "Don't worry about that just now. You can call your mother later, it's not like she's been a part of his life for a while. The Hummels will contact you, don't worry about them either, okay? Just…you don't have to do anything right now."

Blaine nodded and sunk farther into Nick, who rubbed at his back and peppered kisses on his forehead. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about everything that would come next.

"Where's Mia?" He asked, upon realization that his two year old wasn't in the room.

"Put her down for a nap. We had a…a very eventful morning."

Blaine groaned and burrowed his face into Nick's neck. "I love her, I do, but she's beginning to remind me of Rachel Berry."

"Rachel Berry?" Nick asked, "the Rachel Berry. Broadway? Two time Tony winner, Rachel Berry?"

"Yes, that one."

Blaine could practically hear Nick's brain trying to figure out what Blaine meant. Then, "how do you know Rachel Berry?"

"Hummels."

He felt Nick nod. "Oh."

- - -

Kurt shook his head. He couldn't believe it.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head as if to add to the effectiveness of his disapproval.

Finn for his part just shrugged, taking a rather large gulp of the drink he'd asked Maria to make for him earlier, something that Kurt knew had to be very alcoholic.

He kind of couldn't believe that it was even up for discussion. In two hours they were going to be heading out to a church, to pay their respects to the man that had held their family together for years; the man that had made nearly every decision of his life, and instead of thinking about his loss, they were discussing his replacement. Kurt wasn't necessarily upset about the topic of conversation – it was only right they get a new lawyer and fast – it was just that Drew Anderson's son should not have even been considered to take over for his father.

"He won't want to take this on," he said, "you know him."

Burt nodded. "Yes, I do. I also think he is best for the job. Now, end of discussion. It is who I want."

Kurt crossed his arms, "and I have absolutely no say in it? Does it even matter what I think?"

Burt who'd been sitting behind his desk, stood up and crossed the room to where Kurt was standing, "of course it matters, but, Kurt, this is about who is best for a job that many would covet because of who we are."

Kurt rolled his eyes. There was no winning, not when his father made up his mind about something.

"Fine. Whatever."

Finn finished off his drink and stood up. "Drew would have known what to say right at this moment."

They let that sink in.

"He would have, yes," Kurt said, remembering the man that had been a second father to him.

Carole appeared with Rachel, then, both dressed in full black. Kurt nodded his appreciation of the outfits on them and wordlessly went out into the hall. He heard the others follow.

Kurt had only gone to one funeral before this. His mothers. Then, it had been just he and his father, broken hearted as they walked out of their house, only to be met by the two Andersons in the foyer. Father and son had helped both in their own ways. Kurt remembered the clammy hand in his own, squeezing, the arms wrapped around him clumsily. He didn't have that this time.

He walked next to his father. This was too familiar. Kurt reached for Burt's hand. How was Blaine dealing with it? Who did he have?

Blaine, dressed in a black suit, held on tightly to Nick's hand as they got out of the Taxi. They'd left Amelia with a neighbor, a nice older couple that adored the two year old and had offered as soon as they heard.

"A funeral is not a place for a girl so young," Mrs. Reynolds had insisted.

Blaine had agreed.

There was a crowd gathered outside the church and Blaine should have known to expect this. He straightened his tie with one hand and walked forward with Nick, weaving past people until they were in front of a cop, holding back the crowd.

"Excuse me," he called out, "can we get through here?"

The cop, a balding man with a pot belly rolled his eyes, "who the hell are you?"

"This is my father's funeral. I'm…"

The cop cut him off, "it's everyone's father's funeral."

Blaine couldn't believe it. He knew, then, he should have taken Burt up on his offer to pick him and Nick up. But, Blaine hated the Hummels, not them themselves but everything they had stood for in his life and he wanted as much distance from them as possible.

"My name's Blaine Anderson. Look, I have my license; I can prove it to you…"

But before the cop could turn to speak to him again, or Blaine could even reach for his wallet, the sound of sirens distracted them all. The Hummels had arrived.

They came in three limos. Out of the first came Burt Hummel and his wife, Carole. Both looked serious, distraught and didn't stop on their way to the church. Blaine didn't try to get their attention. He knew the impact his father's death had had on Burt. When they'd talked on the phone, he'd been almost in tears. Blaine couldn't remember ever hearing him so upset. One occasion came to mind, his first wife's death, but even that was a hazy memory. Out of the second came Finn Hudson and his wife Rachel Berry. Finn wasn't actually a Hummel, but he might as well have been, and Rachel Berry fit into their world like she'd always been a part of it. It did help that her fame did come only from her marriage into such a prestigious family. Out of the third, came the man that Blaine wanted to both see, and ignore at the same time. He didn't come out alone.

Kurt Hummel walked with his arm around a girl his height, thin and beautiful. She looked familiar but Blaine couldn't place her.

It was Finn that spotted Blaine and let go of Rachel's hand to talk to the cop to let him through. Blaine felt the flashes of camera's go off as Finn pulled him into a hug.

Nick came behind him, and Finn merely glanced at him, as he led Blaine towards the steps and the church. When Blaine turned to look for Nick, it was to see Rachel drawing her arm through his, and the two followed.

When they entered the church, it was only then that Blaine realized he should have just been early, because it was full. He didn't know everyone in the room, but Burt Hummel would have had a reason to invite them. Somehow all these people knew his father, and cared enough to show up to his funeral. And his mother didn't.

Finn lead the way to the front where two rows had been left for the immediate family. Somehow the Hummels fit that role. Blaine couldn't even deny it.

He sat in the row behind them, with Nick at his side. Their hands were clasped tightly. Blaine stared at his hand in Nick's and let himself take the comfort offered. When he lifted his head, it was to meet Kurt Hummel's eyes when he caught him staring.

His stomach churned. It had nothing to do with the funeral.