Chapter Six

December 2013

Blaine opened the door to the loft quietly, hoping his absence hadn't been noticed.

No such luck.  Adam and Kurt were sitting at the kitchen table. Santana was in Danis lap in the couch. Brody was doing chin-ups on the bar hed installed in the corner of the living area. All five of them gave him a warning look in unison as he came in. Great. That meant Rachel was on the warpath.

He had just shut the door when Rachel came bustling out of her room, fastening an earring, and spotted him.  “You're late, Blaine,” she scolded.  “Your curfew is ten o'clock.”  

"Its only ten-fifteen.  Cmon." Blaine flung his key at the basket by the door, not picking it up when it bounced out and landed on the floor. He pulled off his school tie with an irritated jerk.  “And ten o'clock curfew is too early, especially since we live all the way out in the boondocks.  I always have to leave before everybody else.”  

Rachel raised her eyebrows at him.  “Hey.  Want to go for nine?  You knew we had plans tonight, and I can't go without making sure you're in for the night.  I'm just looking out for your safety.”

Blaine looked imploringly at Kurt, who was sitting at the kitchen table with Adam.  And Kurt, wonderful as always, tried to help.  “C'mon, Rachel. Stop being so strict.  He's here now and you're not ready anyway,” Kurt argued, cutting Rachel off mid-reprimand. “You have at least one more layer of spray-tan to go.”

“He's right, babe.  Proper coverage is super-important.  Let me apply it?” Brody wheedled, pulling at the hem of Rachel's tiny miniskirt.  “You're looking really, really good tonight, babe.”  

“Brody!” Rachel squeaked.  “My brother's right there!”

Brody muttered, “He's always right there."

“I know the feeling,” Blaine retorted, stalking to his room.  He quickly changed into his shirt sleeves and sweatpants and headed back out to the lofts common area, where he opened his laptop and plopped down on the couch to check social media and see all the fun everybody else in the world was having.

Brody wandered over behind Blaine, clapping him on the shoulder.  “Another big night on-line, little guy? X-tube or fratboiphysical.com?”

Blaine scowled, embarrassed that Brody said that in front of Kurt, who was looking at him surreptitiously with concerned, thoughtful eyes. "Why do you ask?  Afraid I'll see you on there in your latest role?  I mean, that might explain the constant manscaping.”  

Santana barked out a laugh. “Good one, short stack.  You're learning.  C'mon, Berry.  Quit primping already.  Its not like anybody will be looking at you, at least not when me and my girl are in the room."  She gave Dani a peck on the cheek.  "Let's just go.”

“Where are you guys going?”  Blaine asked, still staring moodily at his screen.  He didn't want to see them all dressed up.  He especially didn't want to look at the outfit Kurt was wearing to go dancing with Adam; that tight leather vest, or those knee-high boots with the safety pins, or the silk shirt or the little kerchief around his neck.  And he definitely didn't want to see the way Kurt's hair looked so perfect, or the way that  his shoulders were so broad above his graceful waist. He didnt.

Blaine looked again one last time in spite of himself, and was punished with another horrible spasm of jealousy and loneliness and longing.

“Someplace not for kids, I'm afraid,” Adam answered Blaine, in his clipped British accent.  He gallantly helped Kurt into his coat.  “A gay bar, specifically.”

“I'm not a kid,” Blaine snapped, hating Adam for being twenty-two, for being allowed to put Kurt's coat on him, and for being five foot ten.

“Of course not,” Rachel soothed, with a peck on the top of his head as she passed.  “But I expect you to be asleep when we get back,” she bossed him on her way out the door.

The sounds of their happy voices faded down the hall, and Blaine was alone. It was so crowded most of the time, one might reasonably suppose Blaine would be happy about some privacy and a chance to escape Rachels "mothering".  Everybody in the loft, and their significant others, treated him like a baby.  Especially Kurt and Rachel. And their annoying boyfriends were always around, making things awkward and uncomfortable.

Blaine just couldn't understand what Rachel saw in Brody, especially when she had a great guy like Finn before.  He knew things would be different, and way better, if only Finn were here with Rachel instead.  Finn was so cool and easy-going, such a great listener and a caring person.  Shallow, looks-obsessed Brody never stopped talking -- but never said a word really worth listening to.  And Adam.  Well.  He couldn't exactly explain what he didn't like about Adam.  But he didn't like him.  And he was all wrong for Kurt.  

But it was far worse when everybody left.  When he was alone there was nothing to distract him from memories and thoughts … of the accident, of missing his dads, of feeling like an outsider yet again.  He wished Kurt had stayed home alone with him. Even just to fold laundry or watch tv or sing together.  It didn't matter a bit to him what they did as long as he was with Kurt.  He loved just being near him so much.,

But it hurt when Adam was always there too, being literally everything to Kurt that Blaine couldn't.

He got up and wandered to the kitchen, opening a cabinet.  Santana and Dani had opened a bottle of wine, and drank just half a glass each.  The bottle sat there tempting him. Nobody would miss a glassful, and he started to take it down.

No.  He had tried sneaking a drink here and there when the angry, sad feelings had begun to get the better of him recently. Hed hoped alcohol would quell them, but it hadn't helped much, and doing it risked incurring Rachel and Kurts disapproval. He didn't want that.

He picked up his cellphone and dialed Sebastian, who was a freshman at NYADA now.  They'd stayed really good friends, seeing each other about once a week and talking often.  But tonight Sebs phone went right to voice mail.  Blaine considered calling Trent or Nick, but the Warblers were probably busy; they usually were on Fridays.  There was no point calling the guys he'd been hanging out with before his baby curfew expired. They were at a concert in Manhattan, and wouldn't be interested in keeping his shut-in ass company on the phone.  

He looked at his counselors number, and Burts.  Both had said he could call whenever he wanted to.  Burt had become a substitute long-distance dad for Blaine and his sister, and Blaine adored him.  But it was too late at night to bother people. Besides... he was tired of thinking about his problems, let alone talking about them. He just wanted to pretend things were normal again. Take a break from his own head, for a little while. Was that really so much to ask?

He snatched a glass out of the cabinet and set it with the bottle on the counter, tapping his phone on his leg nervously.  He was about to pour half a glass, just to relax a little, when the phone beeped.   He glanced down at his home screen.  There was a new alert.

He opened the Facebook app and tapped on the notifications icon.  He had a new message … from that cute older guy he met at the mall while shopping for Chanukah presents for Kurt and Rachel.  Up until  now, Blaine had said no to meeting him again, partly because he came on suspiciously strong, but even more because … because … well, because Kurt.  But it felt nice to have somebody recognize he wasn't a little kid, for a change.  He hesitated a moment before he flicked open the message:

“Hello, Sexy."

r03;r03;r03;r03;r03;~ * ~

Passing through the exposed-brick hallway to the lofts sliding front door, Kurt swung his hand in Adam's and gave him a demure smile.  They had a fun night, dancing with his friends new and old.  He was a real part of the city now, a full-fledged, grown-up New Yorker.   He shushed his tipsy roommates and their significant others. “C'mon, guys, keep it down.  Blaine's probably asleep.”  

Kurt opened the door as quietly as he could, and looked around, puzzled.  The television was still on and an empty bottle of wine was on the coffee table next to two glasses.

“Well, well, looks like Baby Gay got his swerve on tonight,” Santana slurred, leaning heavily on Dani. “That was almost full when we left.”

Rachel snatched up the bottle and stormed to the curtain surrounding Blaine's small cubicle of a bedroom.

"Rachel, don't!” Kurt cried out, too late, as Rachel grabbed the curtain and yanked it open.

The six friends stood as one, mouths dropped, at the sight of Blaine, shirt off and in the arms of a very sexy, very shirtless man Kurt had never seen before. He was beyond relieved to see that both their pants were still on; but he was aghast at what kind of pants the stranger was sporting. Bright red felt with white fur trim?  with … suspenders?  What on earth - -

“Blaine!”  Rachel finally shrieked.  “What are you doing?”

“If you don't know, Berry, then Pornstar here isn't doing his job right,” Santana said between spasms of laughter.  “You little devil, Blainers! Santas little helper!" She stumbled to one of Kurts retro chic plastic chairs and sat down with a thud and screech of plastic against the hardwood floor.  Dani smiled uncertainly and hovered behind her chair, stroking Santana's long hair.

“Who the hell is this?” Rachel stormed, pointing the wine bottle at the stranger like a sword, backing him into the tight space between the bed and Blaines dresser.

“Santa."  Blaine struggled to get his shirt over his head while flinging Santas red hat at him.

“His - - his name is Santa??”

Kurt observed that the chiseled stranger had to be thirty if he was a day, and he was in full St. Nick regalia ... minus the beard and shirt. It was lucky theyd gotten home when they did, even if Blaine probably didnt think so right now.

Blaines head emerged finally through the neck opening.  “I don't know his real name.  I met him at the mall when I was Chanukah shopping.  We friended each other on Facebook and - - well, he poked me tonight and - -“

Santana set her chin on her hand, avidly eager to watch the drama unfold.  “I bet he did.”

"Nothing happened!" Blaine protested. "We were just kissing!"  

"Without shirts. Totally good old fashioned innocent fun," Santana mocked. "Better watch it! That could lead to dancing!"  

Dani tugged Santana's arm and inclined her head toward the nook that served as Santana's bedroom, but Santana could never resist a good scene.

Santa quavered over Rachels head, "Blake, why is this lady so mad? Is she ... your wife or something?"

“My little brothers name is Blaine. And as anybody with eyes and a brain should be able to tell, he is under age – for drinking or for anything else you were doing,” Rachel informed the cowering St. Nick.  “And Im calling the police."

At that, Santa looked aghast.  He snapped his suspenders up over his bare chest and shoved past her, bolting out the door without a backwards glance.  He sprinted down the corridor, with Rachel pelting his thick leather belt and jingle-bell trimmed scarf after him. When he was out of sight,  Rachel whirled toward Blaine.  “Have you lost your mind?” she began, as Blaine stood up and headed toward the bathroom without a word.

Adam nudged Kurt. "You want to go to my place? This looks like it could get ugly."

"No, of course not. Blaines in trouble and I have to help deal with this," Kurt hissed back.

"It just seems like a family thing."

Kurt looked at him, surprised.  "It is. And Im part of this family. I thought you would understand that by now.”   He bit his lip when he saw a slightly hurt look on Adam's face, but he didn't have time to deal with that now.  Rachel, ever protective of her baby brother and closest remaining  family, was on a rampage and Kurt needed to make sure she didn't spin out of control.  

Rachel followed Blaine to the bathroom continuing to shout at him  through the door. “I mean, were you thinking at all, Blaine?  Bringing a stranger into our home?  Getting drunk with him?  How could you be so irresponsible?  Do you know what could have happened?”

Rachel was indeed beginning to spin out of control.  Ignoring Kurt's words, she got up in Blaine's face the moment he emerged from the bathroom.  “You are grounded for a month, mister," she shouted, stamping her foot. "And you won't be left alone again until you prove you can be trusted.  One of us will be here at all times to watch you." Rachel jabbed her finger around at the others.

“Hold the phone! This just stopped being funny!  I didn't sign up for guard duty,” Santana protested. Dani, Brody and Adam grumbled as well, subsiding into silence when Rachel glared at them.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Rachel- I think maybe--"

Before he could say any more, Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, and asked angrily,  “Can I say something?”

“No.  You can go to your room.  NOW!" Rachel shouted.

Kurt winced, but hoped at least this would separate them until cooler heads prevailed. Unfortunately, it was obvious Blaine was none too pleased at being sent to his room like a child.  

Blaine stared with his mouth hanging open for a moment. Then, rolling his eyes in dramatic teenaged fashion, he stomped his way back to his room.  Outside the curtain, he turned with his chin held up. “You are not my mother.  You are not my boss.  And you drink all the time even though you're under 21.  And you moved him in here when you barely knew him," he accused, for good measure, pointing at Brody furiously. "You're a total hypocrite.”

The five spectators swiveled their heads to await Rachels response to this unprecedented defiance. Kurt had never seen Blaine speak that way to anyone, much less his beloved older sister.  Rachel's eyes narrowed and Kurt braced himself for the onslaught.

“There's a difference between me drinking at nineteen, and you drinking at fifteen. And between my adult relationship and your decision to bring a perverted stranger into our home, Blaine!" Rachels voice rose in both pitch and volume as she got worked up again.  Kurt tried to put a placating hand on her arm, but she shook him off. "And never mind that ‘not your mother' line.  I'm in charge of you, you're living under my roof.  So guess what?  I am the boss of you.  Until you're eighteen, you will follow my rules! It's my job to make sure you're safe, even if you don't like it. Now, I said go to your room.”

Blaine stuck out his lower lip and grabbed the curtain, swishing it shut as hard as he could behind him.  Rachel shrieked in frustration and stormed to the kitchen, hurling the wine bottle into the recycling bin.

Santana hemmed, "erm... about that wine... can I assume youll replace it? I spent $20 on that bottle?"

Rachel glared at Santana, and Kurt sidled up to Rachel, shaking his head warningly at Santana.

“So that's it?  That's how youre handling this?” Kurt said.  

Rachel turned on Kurt, her hands on her hips.  "What do you expect me to say?  Go ahead and invite any old predator you want to the loft for cocktails and light roleplay?"

The other roommates milled their way into the kitchen area to listen to their hushed conference.  

Looking at the others uneasily, Kurt answered, “No, but instead of getting mad, could you talk about this rationally?  Make sure he's being safe? Whatever sex ed he's getting at school, if it's anything like McKinley, probably won't even acknowledge gay sex exists. You cant just send him to his room and pretend this didn't happen."

“I have a better idea.  You handle it,” Rachel announced, poking him in the chest.  “Go ahead. Give him the birds and birds speech, if you think I havent done enough. Youre the male authority figure in his day-to-day life, so. Go for it.”  She narrowed her eyes at him in challenge.

The rest of the group nodded gravely at him when he looked around for support, and finally Kurt let out an exasperated groan and went to his room.

He rummaged for the pamphlets his father had given him, breathed deeply, and went toward Blaine's curtain.  Standing outside, he felt the others' eyes on him as he tapped on the post in lieu of a door.  He turned around and gave them a filthy look before tapping again, louder this time.

“What now?” Blaine shouted.

“It's Kurt.  Can I come in?”

“Thanks for asking first,” Blaine's sarcastic voice floated out for Rachel's benefit.  “Sure.”

Blaine was sitting cross-legged with his back against the headboard.  “So.”

“So,” Kurt echoed, turning red-faced and sitting gingerly on the edge of the rumpled bed.  He handed Blaine the pamphlets in as businesslike a manner as he could muster. Blaine turned them over in his hands and looked at the covers briefly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I know how embarrassing it is to have questions about this stuff, and not having anybody to talk to about it.  I guess it's time for The Talk, and I'm elected to give it.”

Blaine laughed lightly and tossed the pamphlets on his nightstand. Kurt looked up, irritated.  If he had to give this speech, he didn't appreciate being laughed at for his trouble. “What's so funny?” he demanded.

“Aw, Kurt.  My dads gave me The Talk twice.  The straight one when I was thirteen, before I came out.  Then the gay one after I came out.  They were humiliatingly thorough both times. I know all about protection and whats in those pamphlets. I don't need another one from you too -- no offense. And nothing happened anyway."

“Oh.  But … maybe you do need another discussion.  The way you behaved tonight kinda makes me think so." Kurt leaned over to catch Blaines eyes. "Be honest. Do you really think meeting up, alone, with a total stranger whos so much older than you, is safe?"

Blaine looked down at his hands, but didnt answer.  Kurt saw he was getting through and pressed on calmly. “And getting drunk with a stranger can put you in even more danger.  Blaine, why?  Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?  I mean, I just lost my second set of parents, my home, all the friends I'd managed to make since getting bullied out of my old school.  And it's been great living here crammed in like sardines with people who - -“ Blaine trailed off.  

“Who what?”

“Who are busy,” Blaine said, looking shamefaced.  “I  get it. You all have your lives, and I don't expect anything from you. I just miss how things used to be. I know I have to accept it.  This is my life now, and ...”  He pushed his palms against his eyes as if to keep the tears that were welling up from falling. His face crumpled.

Kurt scooted up on the bed next to Blaine, putting an arm around his shoulders.  “Why didn't you say anything to one of us?  You have to know we're here for you and love you.”

“I do know that.  You've all been great, especially you and Rae. That's why it's hard to tell you I'm struggling, sometimes.  And then it builds up inside.”  Blaine put his head in his hands, rubbing his face with exhaustion.  “It's not so bad all the time. Mostly at night or when Im not busy. I guess I wanted something to numb it, make me feel good temporarily at least.”

“How do you feel now, though?” Kurt prompted.  “Better or worse?”

The boy couldn't or wouldn't answer, and Kurt relented.  “Look, get in your pajamas and go to sleep.  We can talk about it in the morning, we're all exhausted." He hesitated a moment. "Blaine, I know Rachel came down on you a little hard tonight.  But remember, youre all the family  she has and shes been through a lot. Cut her some slack.  She worries and she nags, but its out of love and concern."

Blaine whispered, "I know."

Kurt got up. “And Blaine.  Please.  If you feel lonely or like you're going to do something reckless again, come talk to me. I'm always here for you. Getting drunk or fooling around with strangers wont solve anything, and could buy you a new set of problems.  Promise?”

Blaine's eyes were damp, and he nodded, “I promise, Kurt.  Youre right...  and I won't let you and Rachel down like that again.”