Blaine flipped the lock on his bedroom door and collapsed onto his bed, letting all his pent-up frustration out in one long slow groan into his pillow. He would have liked to have stayed there, face-down in soft, downy oblivion forever, but eventually the need to breathe forced him over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling instead.

What the hell was he supposed to do? It hadn't been a surprise to see Kurt so adamantly serious. Blaine was used to that. There was a certain amount of my way or the highway that just came with the dating Kurt territory. Blaine was well aware that Kurt had expected him to give in because he almost always did. And he was fine with that, actually, because in most cases Kurt was right and when he wasn't, well, the happiness it gave Kurt when Blaine put aside his own fears and reservations on his behalf was always worth whatever Blaine was giving up. And he secretly always felt, deep down, that he owed it to Kurt as a way of making up for how long it had taken him to figure out his feelings. How long he'd made Kurt wait and hope and suffer. Blaine would gladly do anything, risk anything, for Kurt. Except Kurt. That was where he drew the line.

He loved Kurt. He loved Kurt more than he'd even thought he was capable of loving. And being with Kurt had changed his life in so many ways. He owed Kurt so much, he never, ever forgot that. Not being able to give Kurt this thing that was so important to him was almost physically painful.

He sighed and rolled back over onto his stomach and reconsidered the benefits of death by goose down.

The first thought Blaine had ever had about Kurt, there on the steps of the Dalton grand staircase, was that this was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. Beautiful was really the only way to describe Kurt Hummel. Handsome applied, and so did pretty, but neither alone went far enough. Kurt's beauty transcended both and was something completely unique to him, beyond silly external definitions of masculine or feminine. He took Blaine's breath away from that first moment.

His second thought had been that he needed to find a way to touch this boy, so he thrust out his hand – it was ridiculous, really, since when did teenagers shake hands? – but Kurt seemed to appreciate the formality of it, and Blaine had felt a little proud of himself for managing to impress him. Kurt's hand hadn't even parted with his all the way before Blaine was racking his brain to find an excuse to recapture it. That had led to Dalton shortcuts and the showiest version of Teenage Dream Blaine had ever performed, and, finally, coffee, and a chance to just stare at this beautiful creature named Kurt.

By the time their coffee cups were drained, though, Blaine had realized that Kurt was the last person he could ever date.

The need to sneeze forced Blaine's face out of his pillow once more. He grabbed a tissue, rode out his usual three short, sharp explosions (Kurt said he sneezed like a Pekingese – all delicate choos and head shaking), and settled back, still clutching the tissue box.

Tonight Kurt had said they were hiding, but back then Blaine had really been in hiding. It hadn't started out that way. He'd been fourteen when he'd come out to his parents. He had all the usual struggles getting to the point where he could admit to himself that he was gay, and by the time he knew he needed to tell his mom and dad, he was okay with it. His parents loved him, they said all the right things when the topic of gay rights came up at dinner parties. They voted for the right politicians and supported the right ballot initiatives. He'd gone into it assuming that his mom would throw her arms around him, his dad would give him a more carefully masculine hug, they'd both tell him that they loved him and thank him for trusting them with such an important revelation – standard textbook “what to do when your kid tells you he's gay” responses.

And they had performed exactly as expected. They said all the right things and did all the right things. But he hadn't anticipated their eyes. Behind their words of love and acceptance he could see shock and fear and disappointment and because he was fourteen he didn't understand that a woman who had written the story of the rest of her life the day she held her newborn son in her arms might need time to mourn the loss of precious details of plot that would now never be realized. And that a man who, deep in his heart, always found the idea of the things men do with other men incomprehensible and distasteful would now have to confront his own internalized bigotry in the shape of his son, standing open-hearted waiting for acceptance. Or that two parents who loved the boy in front of them with every molecule in their bodies must now accept that the world will judge him and marginalize him and try to dismiss him without ever understanding how perfect and talented and brilliant he is.

Blaine didn't understand those things and so he took his parents' silent reactions onto himself; before he'd even had time to process them, the Sadie Hawkins dance had happened and laying on a hard gurney in the emergency room he'd come to as serious a conclusion as a fourteen-year-old boy could. He was out. He wasn't going to hide who he was, not for his parents, not for anyone. But he was going to do whatever he could to make it easier for them. He would take up residence behind the brick-walled security of Dalton Academy. He'd defy every stereotype. He'd shape himself into the most composed, polished, non-threatening (straightest his brain flung at him but he locked that thought right up) gay kid in all Ohio. He'd show everyone that being gay was no different from being straight. He'd destroy everyone's preconceptions.

And it had been so easy to do. Because at Dalton he discovered he could sing. He could really sing. And with the electricity of performance sparking around him he could literally do anything. He could sing girl songs without changing the words and nobody batted an eye. He could serenade another guy in the middle of a suburban mall and as long as the song was aggressively masculine enough, and he was backed up by enough red-and-navy jacketed Warblers, most shoppers were unaware that they'd seen anything more objectionable than an exceptionally well-coordinated flash mob. People loved when he sang, no matter what he sang. There were no rules, self-imposed or otherwise. It was pure freedom.

But when he wasn't singing, Blaine's greatest goal was to blend in. To be unremarkable. He lived his life to the letter of out-and-proud, but missed the spirit entirely.

And there, facing him across the polished table in the Senior Commons, sat Kurt, Kurt who was achingly . . . well, some people might have said obvious, but the word that came to Blaine's mind that afternoon over coffee was exposed. Kurt had no way of hiding; he screamed who he was whether suburban Ohio was ready for him or not. The whole idea terrified Blaine and before he could ask himself why the very qualities that so frightened him had also made him burn with the desire to touch this beautiful boy, his brain had shoved those feelings into the dark closet where he put all his inconvenient thoughts and locked the door on them. What Kurt needed, it told him, was a friend. Someone to support him and stand up for him. Someone to help him navigate the dangers he couldn't avoid. By the time he was waving goodbye from the front steps of the school he had all but forgotten his first reaction to the boy who was already halfway to becoming his best friend. And he was pleased with himself. He'd made the right choice. He'd stayed safe.

And then the bird died.

It had actually been coming on for a while, Blaine could see that looking back. Kurt stopped working so hard for his attention or approval. The phone calls and texts became fewer, still there, of course, they were still friends, but Kurt wasn't relying on Blaine like he used to. The final blow was when Pavarotti's little heart stopped beating and Kurt, Kurt who used to text Blaine in a panic every time the damned bird dropped a feather . . . didn't. He didn't call Blaine, or seek him out to share his grief. Blaine found out at the same time all the other Warblers did – when Kurt burst in on a council meeting pale and tired in his Victorian mourning. And sitting there listening to the opening strains of Blackbird, wondering why Kurt hadn't come to him first, the thing that had been trying to get Blaine's attention for weeks finally got frustrated enough to just slap him across the face.

Kurt was giving up. Kurt was starting to back away. To make Blaine less necessary in his life. In one stunning moment, Blaine realized that the destination of the road they were on was a fork where Kurt went one direction and he another. And the thought of that parting sent icy fingers marauding through Blaine's gut. He couldn't, simply couldn't let Kurt go without at least acknowledging the things he'd felt in that first, magical moment on the stairs. So there, bum-bumming automatically along with the other Warblers as Kurt sang his lament, Blaine did the bravest thing he'd ever done in his life and cracked open the door to that closet of inconvenient feelings. He'd just meant to let a little light in, explore how it would feel to think of Kurt in that way, but like Pandora before him he learned that given even the tiniest crack all those inconvenient feelings will knock the door off its hinges, fly into every nook and cranny of your brain, and overwhelm you with how desperately you want to take your best friend in your arms and kiss him over and over until neither of you can breathe.

Which is pretty much exactly what he did.

Once he was in, Blaine was all in. The joy he felt being Kurt's everything was stronger than any fear he'd ever let rule his life. He was himself when he was with Kurt, finally and fully, and it was amazing and freeing and so much more than he'd ever expected being in love with someone to be. It was scary, of course, being so exposed right along with Kurt, but he'd never realized how much energy his kind of hiding took, until he left it all behind to lose himself in the shifting colors of Kurt's eyes and the magic of the tiny noises – always musical, because this was Kurt – that Blaine could win by touching him just the right way in just the right places. Blaine would do or be absolutely anything for Kurt.

And leave it to Kurt to find the one, single solitary exception to that rule.

Blaine sighed again, a frustrated, angry huff, and shoved the tissue box back onto his nightstand with enough force to knock over the silver-framed picture he kept there. Panicked, he scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor and got his fingers around it just in time. Instead of putting it back though, he rolled back on the bed and smiled at the two boys captured in the image.

It was his favorite picture of them. Just looking at it made some of the panic of the evening recede and brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. He could remember every detail about the day it had been taken. They'd all been at the Hummels – Rachel was there too – a lazy summer day of television and video games that had turned into an impromptu backyard barbeque. There had been a moment, after he'd helped Finn set up the new hammock and carried dishes out to the picnic table for Carole, when Blaine had stood all alone in the shade of the elm tree just watching the family around him. It had been so fleeting at the time, just a tiny pause in the hustle and bustle that was Kurt's house on any given day. For just a moment Blaine stood apart, an observer, appreciating everything about this home that was different from his own. Not that the Anderson's never grilled on the spur of the moment, but there was always more formality at his house. And much less friendly bickering and hysterical laughter.

The bickering was coming from behind him, where Carole and Kurt were arguing over how best to set the table. Kurt had wanted to fit three jars of fresh-cut lilacs in among the plates and glasses and fancy serving dishes. Carole insisted that the world wouldn't end if they kept it to two, and while Blaine admired her courage taking on Kurt in full the domino effect of compromise leads inevitably to things like the fall of Rome and loss of meaningful standards for thousands of years mode, he knew her battle was futile. Kurt always won. Because he was always right when it came to these things.

The laughing was coming from Rachel, who was lying in the hammock, squealing every time Finn gave it a push that threatened to rock her right out onto the ground. Finn had his new phone, he'd been going on and on earlier about its amazing features, and he was taking pictures of Rachel now, Blaine could see that they'd be wonderful – her smile giddier and giddier as she tried to pose through each flying swing. He didn't always understand the relationship that Finn and Rachel shared, but there was never any doubt about how much they loved each other.

Burt stood by the grill, keeping watch over steaks that had been carefully seasoned by Kurt earlier. It was funny to see the always-busy Burt relegated to babysitter until Kurt finished with the table. He'd been given strict instructions to do absolutely nothing beyond making sure no stray leaves or insects approached the steaks. Burt smiled when he caught Blaine staring, and waved the spatula he held, rolling his eyes in Kurt's direction in a way that left no doubt as to his thoughts.

Between his silent communication with Burt and the noise of Rachel squealing and his general happiness that days like this were part of his life now, Blaine didn't notice that the gentle bickering behind him had ended and he was surprised to feel an arm slip around his waist, then another join it. Kurt's slim form pressed up against his back, his arms tightened around Blaine's middle and he bent to press his cheek to Blaine's jaw, and further, tilted his head until his lips touched the thin skin of Blaine's neck.

It was so unexpected, so unlike Kurt. Kurt was the master of grand romantic gestures. Kurt planned picnics and set up dates in minute detail; that was how he showed his love. But little physical gestures, those belonged to Blaine. Blaine was the first to reach, the first to kiss, although Kurt always responded wholeheartedly. But he rarely initiated. Blaine told himself Kurt still worried about seeming to needy or clingy. He could understand that, and he certainly never minded picking up the slack where touching Kurt was concerned, but still, this simple hug was so rare and special that it pulled deep in his core and brought tears to his eyes. He pressed one hand over Kurt's around his waist and with the other reached back to hold Kurt by the back of his neck, pulling him closer and trying to keep him right here, to make this perfect little moment – just being held by Kurt – last forever.

But of course, all too soon the grill vented a monstrous sizzle and with a piercing “Dad!” too close to Blaine's ear Kurt was gone, swift as a hummingbird, buzzing off to solve the steak emergency, and Blaine's hand grasped futilely for a moment at empty air before it accepted its loss and moved to rub at his ringing ear instead.

Neither of them had noticed Finn pointing his phone in their direction.

It wasn't until Blaine got home late that night and turned on his computer that he found the e-mail from Finn with a winky face as its only subject. He opened it and as the picture slowly filled his screen he was left even more breathless than he'd been by the actual gesture.

Neither one of them was looking at the camera. Blaine's face was turned to the side, looking toward where Burt had been minding the grill. Kurt's arms were tight around him and he loved the way he looked, wrapped up in Kurt's embrace. But what knocked the breath out of Blaine, standing there watching the image unfold on his computer screen, was Kurt's face. His lips were tucked close to Blaine's ear and his eyes were closed but he looked so content, so completely at rest in a way that Kurt almost never was, and the idea that that was how he made Kurt look tightened Blaine's chest and filled him with a sense of pride and love so fierce it felt like it could burn him up from the inside out.

Kurt, of course, hated the picture. “My eyes are closed Blaine. I look ridiculous. If you want a picture of me I'm happy to provide a dozen that are better than that.” But Blaine didn't think Kurt looked ridiculous. He thought Kurt looked transported. Carried away by his love for Blaine. So although Kurt did provide those other pictures, and they did find shelf space on various surfaces in Blaine's room, that one had pride of place, right next to his bed, the first thing he looked at when he woke up in the morning and the last thing at night. And despite his protests, Blaine was sure he'd seen Kurt shoot it the occasional lingering look.

Now stretched out on his bed, Blaine held the picture like a talisman, stared at it, tried to find some reassurance in the obviously unbreakable bond the two boys in the frame shared. They could get through anything, couldn't they? They would figure this out. There had to be a solution.

The buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and he carefully set the picture back on his nightstand and picked it up. He smiled at the simple text from Kurt.

What are you doing?

That was so like Kurt, a text, something he could control, think before he “spoke.” Several answers made their way in quick succession thought Blaine's head.

Freaking out about tonight and what it means and how we're ever going to figure this out.

Staring at our picture and loving you so much it hurts.

Wishing you were here to hold me and tell me you changed your mind and everything's going to be all right.

In the end he went with a simple Lying in bed. Missing you.

I love you, Blaine.

I know, he texted back, I love you too.

He waited for a response but eventually had to admit that there wasn't going to be one. He turned off his light and lay with his hand on his phone, until he drifted off to sleep, still in his clothes, still hoping for more.

The next day was one of the strangest and most difficult seven hours of school Blaine had spent since he left Parkman High for the zero-tolerance safety of Dalton. He'd planned out what he wanted to say in the car on the way to McKinley. He even repeated his opening speech a few times out loud, which got him more than a few stares from passing drivers. But the minute he turned the corner and saw Kurt at his locker, smiling at something Mercedes was telling him, everything he'd planned went completely out of his head.

When Kurt turned and caught sight of him his smile softened into the familiar oh, there you are happiness that usually met any appearance by Blaine. For a blissful second relief washed through Blaine's body, but before he could even pull his lips into a return grin Kurt seemed to remember their argument; his smile faded and his eyebrows pulled together and Blaine's heart sank back to where it had been all night. The hellos they exchanged were quiet and awkward, neither seeming to know what he should say or do. It was Mercedes who finally broke the silence by dragging Kurt off to first period. �Blaine took comfort in the fact that at least Kurt threw him an apologetic smile as they rounded the corner.

His resolve to give Kurt the space he'd asked for lasted all the way until lunch time, when he finally gave in and went in search of him. But Kurt wasn't in any of the usual places. He wasn't at the New Directions' designated lunch table, or hanging out in the choir room, or practicing in the auditorium. In Glee Club, Kurt reappeared and even smiled at him again, but sat between Mercedes and Rachel, leaving Blaine to take an empty chair between Finn and Puck, which was always a little bit awkward.

After school, Blaine beelined to Kurt's locker but no one was there. He waited, but as time passed and Kurt didn't show up he couldn't escape the conclusion that his boyfriend was avoiding him on purpose. That scared him more than anything they'd said in the car the night before because they always talked. They always worked things out one way or another. Even after Sebastian and that horrible night that Blaine would always be ashamed of, Kurt had come and found him and they'd said the things they needed to say, and it had all worked out in the end. And how could anything that had happened last night be worse than what Blaine had done in the parking lot at Scandals?

It wasn't. And Blaine wasn't going to let it be.

When he pulled up in front of Kurt's house the driveway was empty. Of course. He climbed out of his car and settled himself to wait on the cold stone steps leading up to Kurt's front door. He didn't care if he had to sit here all night. They were going to talk.

His heart leapt when a car turned the corner at the end of the street, but it was just Burt's battered truck that pulled into the driveway. Blaine straightened up and tried to look a little less like a dejected stray puppy sitting on the doorstep, but Burt's sharp eyes never missed a thing and Blaine could see the concern in them before he got halfway up the walk. He had no idea whether he wanted Burt to ask him what was wrong or just walk on into the house and leave him to his misery.

“Hey Blaine.” Burt waited; he obviously expected Blaine to explain himself, but when Blaine remained silent he prodded, “Isn't it a little chilly to be sitting out here admiring the street?”

“I'm waiting for Kurt,” Blaine explained.

“Didn't you just come from school?”

Blaine nodded. Burt waited for him to say more, but Blaine remained silent, and finally Burt climbed past him up the stairs and unlocked the front door. “Might as well come wait inside where it's warm.”

“No, I'm okay, thanks,” Blaine said, eyes still on the street in front of him.

Burt didn't say anything for a moment, but Blaine didn't hear him go inside either. Finally, the door closed, and Burt's work boots appeared next to him on the steps.

“Want to talk about it?” Burt ask, settling himself on the step next to Blaine.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever you two are fighting over.”

Blaine, who still wasn't used to Burt's uncanny ability to know whenever something was wrong in Kurt's life, gaped at him. “How did you –”

“Kurt wore his ‘emotional turmoil' boots today.”

“The green ones,” Blaine nodded.

“Yep. And I'm betting he ditched you after school, or you wouldn't be sitting out here holding down my stoop hoping to catch him before he has a chance to see your car and drive on by. So you want to tell me why my son is avoiding the love of his life?”

That made Blaine smile, and the smile, combined with the genuine concern in Burt's eyes, unstoppered the feelings he'd been trying so hard to keep under control all day. “I don't even know what happened,” he said, and once he started the words just tumbled out of him. “I mean, we were having a good time at Breadstix, just eating pasta and talking about football, and we could sit next to each other because of Rachel and Finn and I thought everything was fine. But then Rachel kissed Finn and some woman smiled at Kurt and now he thinks I should kiss him at school and hold his hand and we never did that stuff! I thought we agreed that it wasn't worth the risk but he says he doesn't want to hide anymore, except from me, apparently, and I just . . . I don't know what to do. I really don't think he's okay with how we've been and I would do anything for him, anything, but I can't risk him getting hurt. I can't. It would kill me if anything happened to him.”

Burt didn't say anything, just watched the street as if he, too, was anticipating Kurt's arrival.

“You understand, right?” Blaine pressed. “I'm trying to protect him. You're his dad. You can appreciate that, can't you?”

Burt turned away from the street and gave Blaine a long thoughtful stare. It made Blaine feel uncomfortably like a bug under a magnifying glass, like Burt was taking his measure in some way. He must have decided he liked what he saw, though, because he gave a little nod and said, “All right, look. I know you love Kurt, and I'm not trying to minimize that, but I've got to tell you, there is nothing like the love a parent has for their kid.”

“So you get it?” Blaine asked, relieved.

But apparently it wasn't going to be that easy. “You don't think it drove me nuts watching him leave the house every morning in one of those crazy outfits?” Burt asked. “The way he got treated – every damn day he'd come up those stairs and you think I didn't want to drag him right back down and make him put on some normal clothes? Just to give himself half a chance in that place? I used to dream about sneaking into his bedroom one day and burning it all. Down to the last little mini bow tie.”

“I love his bow ties,” Blaine protested.

“Well, you would. The point is, I never did that. I could have. I could have forced him to change. God knows he didn't do himself any favors dressing like that. But I never did. Do you know why?”

“Because that would be like asking him to change who he is.”

“That's right. And to Kurt, the only thing worse than having people who hate him trying to change him is having people who love him doing the same thing.”

“But this is different,” Blaine insisted. “I'm not asking him to change. I just want to be safe. Not for me – I know he's right about how important it is to show people that there's nothing wrong with us. If it was just me . . . but I couldn't take it if anything happened to him. I just – if somebody hurt him – I can't even think about it.”

“And you know I appreciate that,” Burt smiled, bumping their shoulders together, but then he pinned Blaine with another of those piercing stares. “Look, Kurt had a really rough time before he met you. I don't know if he's ever told you how rough.”

“I was actually there for prom,” Blaine reminded him.

“I know that. But sometimes all the little things that pile up, they can be a lot worse than any one big event like that. Honestly, there were times when I couldn't figure out how he found the strength to get out of bed in the morning, and put on those crazy clothes and walk into that place, day after day. But he always did. And no matter what they did to him, he never budged one inch because of it. The only time he tried to be something he wasn't, he was protecting me. It was hell, Blaine. He went through hell. But he never once gave in.”

Blaine shifted a little on the cold stone step. He wanted to protest that he knew what hell was - he'd been bullied and ridiculed and sent to the hospital for heaven's sake – but Burt was still looking at him so seriously, like there was some bigger point he was trying to make Blaine understand, man to man, that Blaine held his tongue and waited for Burt to continue.

“And then he met you,” Burt chuckled a little, “and he's going to kill me for telling you this but he fell so hard for you. Like, one of those epic romance movies hard. Moulin Rouge hard.”

Blaine had to laugh a little too, that Burt's scale of epic romance was measured by Kurt's favorite movies.

“But you didn't,” Burt went on, still looking at Blaine like there was some crucial point he was waiting for Blaine to get. “He pined for you like I have never seen anybody pine. He was head over heels for you but whatever you were looking for, it wasn't him.”

“Yeah, but I –”

“Don't get defensive,” Burt held up a hand to stop Blaine's explanation. “You got your head on straight eventually, and we're all happy you did. But my point is that Kurt could have gone and tied himself up in knots trying to be whatever it was you did want, but he didn't. He wouldn't change to get bullies to leave him alone and he wouldn't change to get your attention.”

“I don't really see what this has to do with last night, though.”

“He won,” Burt said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?”

“He won. Kurt stayed Kurt. He didn't change for them or for you. And he won.”

Blaine must have still looked confused because Burt bumped his shoulder again. “I'm talking about you, dummy. He won you. To hear Kurt tell it half the world's in love with you, but hes got you. He stuck to his guns and came away with the big prize. So now he wants to show it off a little bit. He wants the world to know that you picked him. Maybe push it in the faces of all the jerks who tried to tell him what a freak he was. And the only thing that's standing in the way of him doing that is you.”

“Because I don't want him to get hurt!” Blaine protested.

“Which I am very grateful for. But did you hear anything I just said? You asking him to compromise in order to protect him, to Kurt, that's no different than those jerks at school trying to make him compromise because they didn't like what he stood for. Kurt's his own person. He gets to take his own risks. I had to figure that out a long time ago and now it's your turn. If it's really you that you're worried about – well that's a different issue that you two have to work out. But if you're telling him that he needs to compromise to protect himself, trust me, that's a brick wall you don't want to be banging your head into. Better men than you have ended up with killer migraines from trying to tell Kurt who he should be. And by better men, I mean me.” Burt grinned at Blaine and pushed himself up from the step. “It is way too late in the year to be sitting out like this. Come on inside and get warm. Kurt has to come home eventually.”

Blaine accepted Burt's hand pulling him upright. But he didn't follow Burt to the door. “I think I'm just going to go, actually,” he said.

“You don't want to wait for Kurt?”

He shook his head. “You've given me a lot to think about,” he said, and it felt like the understatement of the century, “so I'm going to go do that.”

“Good idea,” Burt said with a little smile.

Blaine heard the door close behind him as he made his way back to his car. His head was buzzing with all the things Burt had said. While he pulled the car door open he looked back at the house and found Burt peering back at him through the front window. Blaine gave him a little wave and Burt nodded back, then let the curtain fall.

Burt may have said that he was the prize, but personally, Blaine thought Kurt won his prize long before he and Blaine ever met.