Despite Blaine's optimism, a week goes by with no contact from Kurt, and he eventually loses all hope of gaining Kurt's friendship. It was a long shot anyway, Blaine reasons. Especially when his family has given Kurt more than enough reason to steer clear of him.

But on a Sunday afternoon, when Blaine's lazing on his bed trying to finish his Algebra homework, his phone rings. Blaine nearly doesn't recognise his own ringtone – his friend Nick had changed it while he wasn't looking to Katy Perry's Teenage Dream, an ode to Blaine's obsession with the song in sophomore year. Now, Blaine checks his phone, to see an unfamiliar number on the screen. He instantly makes to reject the call – his parents had drilled him on numerous occasions about the dangers of picking up for an unknown number. But at the last moment, Blaine stops himself. He may not be able to recognise the number, but there is a number – it isn't hidden. Surely anyone from the media wouldn't be that stupid?

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he accepts the call, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Blaine greets his caller nervously, unsure of what, or who, to expect.

"Why hello there, Anderson."

Blaine nearly drops his phone in surprise. There's no mistaking that voice, melodious with a confidence that had taken years to acquire.

"Kurt!" exclaims Blaine. He should probably act a bit more aloof, sure, but he's unable to hide his happiness. "You called!"

"Yeah," says Kurt, and Blaine's relieved to hear that there's no snark in his tone. "I realised you don't have my number. Thought it was only fair we're on equal ground for any prank call wars we may have in the future."

"Is that so?" teases Blaine, leaning back on his headboard. He's thoughtful for a moment, before he asks a question he's not sure that he should. "Why are you calling, anyway? Your dad seemed angry enough as it were on Saturday when we were just talking."

"We are technically 'just talking' now too, y'know," Kurt points out.

"But this is different," says Blaine. "I mean, for one thing, this time, you sought me out. And I have to say, I'm pretty surprised by that."

It's also just us this time, thinks Blaine. There are no parents to interrupt when things appear to be too uncomfortable. No cameras which can turn on and towards them at them at any minute. No prying eyes. It's just them…

"Alright, you caught me," concedes Kurt. "I just had a bit of a rough day and I need someone to talk to. I mean, I'd usually call my friend Mercedes but she's out on a date – with an absolutely amazing guy who I set her up with, might I add."

"I imagine you'd have good taste in men," laughs Blaine.

He spots his open bedroom door and hurries to shut it, fully aware that his mum is just downstairs making dinner. Settling back onto his bed, he's about to ask what's troubling Kurt, when Kurt gets in before him.

"You're different," says Kurt thoughtfully.

"Excuse me?"

Panic floods through Blaine. Crap, does Kurt know? Is that like a thing? That if you're gay you can just sense when someone else is gay, even when you're just talking to them?

"I just mean that you're different to the rest of those conservatives," says Kurt. "I don't know. There's something about you that just doesn't scream 'bigotry' and 'hatred'. Maybe that's why I'm silly enough to call you."

"I'd like to think I'm different, but hey," Blaine drops the subject which is making him uncomfortable, lowering his voice till it's soft, soothing. "Do you want to talk about what's getting you down?"

"Oh – ah," Kurt hesitates, "no, that's okay. I don't need to talk about it, I guess. I just need to talk."

But Blaine senses that it isn't so much Kurt not wanting to talk about it as it is him not wanting to talk about it with Blaine. Gaining Kurt's trust may turn out a lot harder than Blaine had first thought.

"Oh okay," says Blaine, slightly wounded. "Are you sure you – maybe you should talk about it with Finn or something?"

True, Blaine has no knowledge of just how close Kurt and Finn really are, apart from the more-than-likely skewed reports from the media. Blaine only knows that, with him and Cooper, regardless of how distant they may get, if something was really wrong, he would go to his big brother.

"No it's fine, really," Kurt brushes it off. "Finn and Dad went out to watch the basketball game anyway, and I don't know if you've realised, but basketball's not really my thing."

"Same," says Blaine. "I'm more of a football person myself."

"See, football I can actually get on board with," admits Kurt, "I mean, they have scarves."

Blaine chuckles.

"So is this all part of your dad's plan then?" asks Kurt. His tone is, for the most part, jocular, but Blaine detects a hint of genuine suspicion. "Is he getting you to fraternize with the enemy, find some dirt on us?"

"You're always so sceptical, aren't you?" says Blaine. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I just want to be your friend?"

"Because our parents are running against each other for high office, maybe?" Kurt reminds him, as if it's obvious.

"It's because I'm straight, isn't it?" asks Blaine, acting hurt.

"Excuse me?" Kurt shoots back, the friendliness completely gone from his voice.

"Face it, Hummel," Blaine continues, "if I was gay you'd consider this to be some really romantic, Romeo-and-Juliet type thing."

"But you're not," says Kurt, mocking disappointment, his tone once again friendly. "Such a shame."

"Believe me though, if I were, you'd so be my Romeo," says Blaine flirtatiously.

"I bet you tell that to all the gay sons of your father's presidential opponents," says Kurt, playing along.

"How did you know?" gasps Blaine, mock-surprised.

From the other end of the line comes Kurt's chuckling, the sound eliciting an immediate smile from Blaine.

"You're such a dork," says Kurt amiably. "Hey, Blaine?"

"Hmm?" Blaine hums into the receiver, a wide smile still plastered onto his face.

"I was seriously debating not calling, you know."

"I know, I mean, I get it," says Blaine sympathetically. His stomach knots up in shame, but he understands.

He glances at his door, checking to make sure that it's still shut.

"I – I believe in it, you know," he says, voice lowered as a precautionary measure.

"What?" asks Kurt curiously.

"Same sex marriage. Equal rights – your rights," answers Blaine. My rights, he thinks as an afterthought.

There's silence on the other end, and the lack of response makes Blaine nervous. Perhaps Kurt thinks that Blaine's lying, or that he's pulling Kurt's leg? But, eventually, Kurt speaks up.

"Don't let them know," is all he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Blaine wonders who 'them' is. Kurt could mean anyone – his family, the party, the media – and it would still make sense. And Blaine hates that – hates that he has to hide, not just himself, but his opinions, from so many people.

"I won't," says Blaine. He glances down at the unfinished homework that's scattered across his bed. "I should probably be heading off. But Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Thankyou."

Blaine doesn't need to mention all that he's thankful for. The phone call, a chance, treating him like he was his own person despite everything his father's party stands for. Kurt knows exactly what he means.

"Don't mention it," says Kurt, off-hand, before his voice grows serious. "As in, ah, don't actually mention it to anyone? Media-wise at least."

"Kurt Hummel, are you ashamed to be caught talking to me?" jokes Blaine.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to," Kurt teases back. "Night, Blaine."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

As the line goes silent from Kurt's end, Blaine knows that Kurt's only teasing. But the fact that there may well be some truth in his words makes Blaine feel sick to his stomach.