Kurt and Blaine chatted for the next forty minutes or so, all of their topics much lighter than what they’d started out with. Kurt tried to multitask and do paperwork for his dad while talking, but only ended up filling out two and a half forms. Eventually, Burt walked back into the office.

“Your tires are all finished,” he told Blaine. “I can ring you up if you come into the garage.”

“Okay,” Blaine said, slipping his jacket back on. He turned to Kurt. “I’ll see you later?”

Kurt smiled up at him. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”

“Great,” Blaine said, smiling back.

Kurt waved at them as they left the office. He turned back to the form in front of him, and began filling in vehicle codes again.

About five minutes later, his phone vibrated. Picking it up from where it lay on the desk, Kurt saw that he had a new text from Blaine. Curious, he opened it.

I was just invited to dinner at your house.

Kurt’s jaw fell open slightly. He rapidly texted back.

What do you mean?

The reply from Blaine arrived quickly.

Your father invited me to dinner tomorrow. I’ll be there at 6:30.

Kurt didn’t even bother replying. Leaving his phone and the paperwork behind, he walked out of the office and into the garage. His father was leaning over the hood of an SUV.

“Dad!” he called.

“Hmm?” Burt mumbled, not looking up.

“Did you just invite Blaine to dinner?”

At that, Burt did look up. He smiled. “That was quick. You boys really do talk a lot, don’t you?”

Kurt ignored that, walking towards his father. “Why did you do that?”

“Why not?” Burt asked, glancing down at the car’s engine again. “He seemed like a good kid. You two were getting along. He seemed to like the idea.”

“Dad, you can’t just do that.”

Burt raised an eyebrow at his son. “I’m sorry. Don’t you like Blaine?”

“I-No, I-yes, of course I do.” Kurt stammered. “He’s my friend. But that doesn’t mean you can just have him over for dinner, it’s-“

“We’ve had plenty of your friends over to our house,” Burt pointed out calmly.

“Yes, but this is different.”

“How so?”

Kurt opened his mouth, but found that he didn’t actually have an answer. Burt smiled. “I thought you said Blaine was just a friend,” Burt said.

“He is,” Kurt insisted, exasperated.

“Then it shouldn’t be a big deal. I want to meet the kid you’re hanging out with.”

“You haven’t met all my New York friends,” Kurt argued.

“Well, if they’re ever in the area, they’re welcome to come over.”

Kurt sighed, crossing his arms. “Fine,” he said. “Blaine is coming over tomorrow. But I am cooking, got it?”

Burt smiled, looking rather smug. “Whatever you want, son.”

Huffing, Kurt turned on his heel and left the building.

Blaine called Maia that night from his dorm room.

“Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful.”

Usually that sort of comment warranted a breathy laugh from Maia. Blaine heard nothing.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Blaine lay back onto his bed, which was relatively made. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“How are you?” Blaine asked.

Maia sighed. “I’m tired. I’m stressed out. My parents are pissing me off. I’ve got two lectures tomorrow and a presentation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Maia said, her tone irritated. “I appreciate it, but there’s not much you can do.”

“Do you want me to bring you chocolate?”

Maia’s tone was much softer. “No. Thank you, but I just need to focus.”

Blaine stared at his ceiling. “Do you want me to hang up?”

“No,” Maia said quickly. “Just…talk to me for a few minutes. Please.”

“Of course.”

“What’d you do today?” she asked.

Blaine held his hand out in front of him, making a faint shadow on the ceiling in the dying sunlight. “Went to classes. Got my tires rotated. Worked on an essay.”

“Sounds like a pretty boring day.”

Blaine shrugged, although she couldn’t see it. “Not every day can be an adventure,” he reasoned.

“I guess,” she answered. “Hey, I’m super busy tomorrow, but can we do something together sometime soon?”

Blaine licked his lips. “Yeah, of course. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“So, Wednesday?”

Blaine thought for a moment. For some reason, excuses were racing through his mind. But why would he need an excuse? “Maybe,” he settled on. “I’ll let you know. My paper is due on Thursday, so I might have to work on it.”

“Okay. But soon, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Maia sighed. “Great. I should really go, now. I lo-“ she paused. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Blaine said. They hung up.

Blaine dropped his phone onto the bedspread beside him. He took a deep breath, but no matter how much air he sucked in, he couldn’t seem to fill his lungs. He simply felt hollow.

Instead of getting up and working more on his essay, he lay on his bed and made shadows on the ceiling with his hands until long past it was dark outside.

Kurt stayed up late Googling recipes for dinner. When his father asked what he was doing, Kurt lied and claimed he was checking for open auditions for when he got back to New York. He could tell his dad was already suspicious of his relationship with Blaine, and Kurt didn’t want to give him more reason to tease. After all, there was nothing between them.

Kurt just sort of wanted dinner to be perfect.

Kurt knew that Blaine was pretty well off-he had a nice car and didn’t seem to have a job, which implied that his parents were paying for all his expenses. The way that Blaine had described them, anyway, made them seem like the sort of snooty and wealthy type. Kurt loved his family and his house, but he knew Blaine was probably used to a nicer place. These thoughts ran through Kurt’s head as he scanned recipe after recipe.

Finally he closed his laptop and took a deep breath. As he washed his face before bed, he spoke to himself in the mirror.

“Blaine is your friend. He’s clearly comfortable around you. Coming over to your house will not change that. It’s not a big deal. Dad and Carole are great and he will love them. Dinner will be fine because you are cooking it and you are brilliant.”

He stared at his damp face for a second. “Now stop talking to yourself before Carole comes in and thinks you’re schizophrenic.”

Kurt got up the next day, had breakfast, and then headed for the grocery store. He was fairly certain of what he was going to make for dinner. He sent Blaine a text asking whether he had any allergies Kurt should be aware of(Just cat dander, Blaine had replied, but I hope you’re not putting that in the food anyway.).

Burt was home for most of the day. He watched Kurt with raised eyebrows as he whizzed around the house, straightening things up. He was already setting up ingredients and beginning to cook at four-thirty. Two hours later, when the table was set and the food was nearly done, the doorbell rang. Kurt heard his father start to get up from the couch, but yelled, “I’ll get it!” to stop him. He pulled off his apron, walked to the front door, and took a deep breath. He opened the door.

Blaine stood on the porch, smiling. “Good evening,” he greeted Kurt.

Kurt bit his lip and ordered himself to calm down. “Come in,” he said, opening the door wider.