Blaine was currently standing on the balcony overseeing the massive (too massive, in his opinion) gardens at his family’s mansion in Westerville, preparing himself for the lecture on appropriate behaviour expected from an Anderson from his father that was sure to come any minute now. He had received lectures like that every evening for the past ten years, so he didn’t expect his father to break tradition now.

Ah, right on time. Michael Anderson came walking towards him, closing the ornate glass sliding doors behind him. He was dressed in his usual getup: a dark grey suit with a slightly lighter grey tie, meant to make him look as distinguished as his last name would suggest. Blaine thought his father looked like a proper tool, owning only grey suits. All thirty-five of them. His father didn’t waste any time starting to lecture him on good behaviour. Blaine’s thoughts immediately started to wonder.

He thought about his own clothes, and how he felt stifled wearing only pressed trousers combined with sweater vests and bowties. He had liked them at first, when he was fifteen and still trying to please his father, and had even garnered a large collection of novelty bowties, but now he was yearning to wear a pair of jeans combined with a simple t-shirt.

Andersons didn’t wear jeans and shirts though. Andersons were supposed to project a proper image of a put together, rich family, who were on top of the world at all times. Doing so meant classy clothing, classy cars, classy houses and horribly gelled back hairstyles. Not only did Blaine yearn for a pair of jeans, he was also craving his old curly hairdo.

From his hairstyle, his thoughts drifted to the charity event his father was currently lecturing him on. A whole charity event designed to save the trees in a rain forest somewhere. Blaine would believe the intentions of the host if the invitations hadn’t been pressed on thick paper made in the Amazons. These invents were always horribly boring. And besides, hadn’t they saved enough tree, whales, canaries or butterflies by now? They went to about two of these events per month, after all.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”, his father’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Of course I’m listening, father,” Blaine answered, though he really hadn’t been. He had heard this speech many times before though, so he knew what his father wanted to hear. “The limo will be here at seven and you would very much appreciate it if I would be on time for once in my life, so the rest of the family won’t have to wait for me for once. Besides, who wouldn’t want to miss even a second of such a glorious event?”

His father nearly glared at him (nearly, Andersons don’t show emotion if they can help it).

“There’s no need to be cheeky, Blaine. Is it really too much to ask for you to be punctual for once? To hope that you might even try to make something of the evening?”

Blaine sighed and shook his head. “I apologise, father. I’ll be on time.”

Michael sighed in return, shaking his head and preparing to walk back inside.

“No, you won’t be. You’ll make us wait at least fifteen minutes. Aunt Caresse will amuse himself with a tumbler of scotch, your mother will be annoyed and run upstairs to change dresses one last time, Cooper will run around after his children to keep them in the same place and Sebastian will call from the club to make sure you haven’t been kidnapped or something at least three times. You know, you really should treat your fianc� a little less callous with things like that, he worries.”

Blaine saved his eye roll till his father left the balcony, leaving the glass doors open. Right, Sebastian. His loving fianc�. They had met at Dalton, the private Academy all Anderson boys had gone to since the school had been founded, over two hundred years ago. Sebastian’s parents ran in the same social circles as Blaine’s parents (the stuck up circles where if you didn’t have at least two summer homes in Europe, you’d be looked down upon) and Michael and Jane Anderson had not so subtly pushed Blaine in his direction. This was of course after Michael had finally gotten over the fact that his son was gay and had realised that other rich families had gay sons, as well.

To be honest, Blaine hadn’t really thought much of Sebastian Smythe at first. To be even more honest, he still really didn’t. He had gone along with what was expected of him, and had started to tell himself that it was perfectly normal to have to grow into a relationship. He didn’t dislike Sebastian, per se, he had just expected more out of a relationship with him. Something more than handholding at charity events and meaningless (at least to him) sex afterwards.

“What are you thinking about, Blainey?” the voice of his brother suddenly came from behind him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“The usual,” he answered, before grinning. “Life, the universe… everything really.”

“Nerd,” Cooper Anderson scoffed. “No really, you seem doubtful. Please tell me it’s not about which colour bowtie to wear tonight, cause I’ll turn right back around and tell mother you still haven’t started to change into your eveningwear.”

“You wouldn’t,” Blaine mock gasped. He then sighed, leaning over to rest his arms on the stone railing. “Just thinking about charities and stuff. And Sebastian.”

“Ah, Sebastian,” Cooper said, coming over to lean beside him. “Mother won’t shut up about him. She keeps talking about how very much in love with you he is and how he is such a fine, upstanding young man from a good family and how he will make such a good husband.”

Blaine snorted. “Good. If she likes him so much, she can marry him.”

Cooper’s easy smile faded a little. “I don’t think father would approve. Maybe aunt Caresse, though. Lord knows she needs to improve her reputation.”

Blaine didn’t answer him, imaging his aunt Carrese hanging over Sebastian, a tumbler of expensive liquor in her right hand, while clinging on to his bicep with her left. The thought was amusing. His brother interrupted his thoughts:

“You don’t have to marry him, you know. No one is forcing you.”

“I know,” the younger Anderson brother replied. “Just put it down to wedding jitters or something. I’m sure our marriage will be a fruitful one.”

Cooper sighed. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure, Coop,” Blaine said, “I guess I had just always figured it to be more romantic, I suppose. Besides, the wedding’s in two weeks. Mother will have a fit if I back out now.”

Cooper laughed heartily. “The look on her face would be priceless though.”

“It would be, “ Blaine agreed. “Now go back inside, those brats of yours have been calling your name for at least five minutes now.”

His brother nodded, taking a last, long look at Blaine. “Whatever you do, never have twins. I hate Helena’s genes right now.”

Blaine chuckled, following after Cooper as he left the balcony. “I don’t think that will be a problem for Sebastian and I.”

“Right, gay. Lucky bastards,” Cooper said, before disappearing to find his twin daughters. Blaine decided to go up to his room to change into his formal evening wear.

It wouldn’t do to be late again.