"What do you mean your father is a homophobe?!" Kurt demands as we get in Cooper's car.

            "I mean just that," I say matter-of-factly.

            He turns around in the shotgun seat that Cooper offered him (He always shoves me in the back, just because I'm little.) to talk to me more easily. "So what you're saying is that your own father hates what you are."

            I smirk without humor. "More like he hates me in entirety," I say bitterly. "I am a disgrace to the Anderson name - not only because I'm gay, but because I decided to go into fashion design instead of becoming a lawyer or politician or doctor."

            "Oh come on Blaine," Cooper speaks up from the driver's seat after starting the car, "you're not a disgrace, and he doesn't hate you. I mean, father wasn't exactly happy with me either when I decided to go into acting."

            "Yes but did he cut you off? Did he refuse to pay for your education? Does he deny you money when you're between jobs?" Cooper remains silent. "My point exactly."

            "Kurt, just watch yourself, okay?" Cooper says after a moment. "Our father isn't the most pleasant man."

            "Please," Kurt responds, "I can take care of myself."

            I say sarcastically, "Right," affectively ending conversation.

            As we near the house Kurt gasps.

            "This is your house?!" he says in awe.

            "Actually this is just the house we stay at during the holidays," Coop answers; "the main house is in DC."

            "Wait..." Kurt says, thinking. "Who's your father?"

            "Walter Anderson," Cooper and I respond at the same time, used to people asking us that question.

            His jaw drops. "Walter Anderson. The Walter Anderson who singlehandedly turned down marriage equality? And LGBT rights legislation altogether?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

            "The very one," I say bitterly. "And we get to spend a whole two weeks in the same house as him."

            "Not that he'll leave his study all that much," Cooper adds as he pulls into the ten-car garage.

            "True," I concede; "a small comfort."

            "No wonder you asked me not to bring anything vaguely feminine..." I hear Kurt say to himself as we pull our luggage out the back. "Not that I exactly listened..." he says even more quietly as he heads toward the door leading into the kitchen.

            "Great," I groan, following.

            Coop throws an arm around my shoulders. "Cheer up Blainers," he says; "I'm sure it won't be too bad."

            "You haven't been around Kurt as much as I have Coop," I respond, disgruntled. "You don't know him like I do."

            "I'm sure I don't," he says with a smirk and a wink, hurrying to help Kurt inside.

            I shake my head at him. This is going to be a fun holiday, I think with a sigh.

            Inside I find mother giving a startled Kurt a hug.

            "It is lovely to finally meet you!" she gushes as she pulls away.

            "Umm thanks?" Kurt replies, confused.

            I chuckle at the sight of the two of them together: fashionable, uptight Kurt and my mother, who Cooper takes after, and wouldn't have a single outfit that matched if it weren't for me.

            "Mother, you're scaring him," I laugh as I walk up to give her a warm embrace.

            "I am?"

            "To be honest," I mutter in her ear, "I don't think he was expecting Walter Anderson's wife to be so cheery and welcoming."

            "Ahh," she says in realization, eyes widening. "Well don't worry darling, you're not the first," mother tells Kurt in her lilting Southern accent.

            Kurt smiles awkwardly, wrapping his arms around himself. "Yes well... where will I be staying?"

            "Oh I am so sorry! Where is my head?" mother says, remembering herself. "You must want to turn in. You two will be staying in Blaine's old room. He knows the way, just follow him."

            "Um mother?" I quickly say before Kurt picks the suitcases back up. "Do you think that's such a good idea? I mean, father -"

            "What your father doesn't know won't hurt him," she interrupts. "Anyway, it's not like he'll be leaving that study of his for more than meals. And even if he does find out, he can take it up with me."

            "No, mother, I don't want to cause any trouble," I rush. "You know what he'll do if he finds out -"

            "Blaine," my mother says in all seriousness. "Don't worry; everything is going to be fine."

            "Okay..." I say uncertainly, brow furrowed.

            She smiles again. "Now you two head on up to bed, I'm sure you're exhausted."

            "Thank Mrs. Anderson," Kurt says from behind me.

            Mother oozes sweetly, "Please darling, call me Patricia." She pushes us toward the staircase. "You two have a good night." With that and a wink she heads to her room, leaving me and Kurt alone.

            "Did... did your mother just wink at us?" Kurt asks in disbelief.

            "That she did," I say with amusement. I turn and tug lightly on his sleeve to get his attention. "Now c'mon; we have three flights of stairs to climb."

            "Three?! How many floors are there?" Kurt exclaims, amazed.

            "Five including the basement, and attic - which is where we're headed."

            "We're staying in the attic?" he asks in disgust.

            I chuckle. "It's much better than it sounds."

            "Holy shit," Kurt mutters. "This is like a penthouse suite. I am so jealous!"

            His shock, awe, and jealousy wear off when I unceremoniously drop his luggage in the middle of the floor.

            "Hey watch it!" he yells at me shrilly. "That is Louis Vuitton!"

            "I know," I say. "I work with you, remember?" I walk over to the bed and start pulling down the covers, getting it ready for the night.

            "What're you doing?" Kurt demands. "That's where I'm sleeping!"

            I turn around to glare at him. "Really? You're not even going to ask to sleep in my bed?"

            He responds with a superior sniff, "Well I am the guest, it's only proper."

            "I know," I say with an eye roll, "which is why I was getting the bed ready for you."

            "Oh. Good," Kurt says curtly.

            As I finish I mutter to myself, "A simple ‘thank you' would suffice."

            After I finish with Kurt's bed I head over to the couch to prepare the pull-out for myself. Just as I'm pulling the bed out Coop walks in.

            "Oh hey, need a hand?" he offers.

            "No, I'm fine," I grunt. Then the bed lands on my right foot, drawing a howl of "son of a bitch" from me.

            Cooper rushes over. "How is it you do that every time?"

            I moan, stumbling back, "Just a talent I guess." Kurt giggles across the room. "Keep that up and you'll be sleeping on the pull-out," I threaten, which shuts him right up.

            My brother looks between us in confusion. "Wait, why aren't you guys sleeping in the same bed? Are you fighting or something?"

            "Or something..." I say under my breath.

            "What was that?"

            "Nothing!" Kurt exclaims. "He's just tired." Then, getting up from taking clothes out of his suitcases to them up Kurt shuffles over to Cooper, cups a hand around his ear as if to tell a secret, and stage whispers, "Anyway, we can't sleep in the same bed because Blainers here doesn't exactly lets me sleep. If you know what I mean."

            Coop guffaws and ruffles my hair while I scowl and massage my crushed foot. "That's my baby bro," he says affectionately.

            "Get outta here Coop," I command, pushing his hand away and ready to throw something at his head.

            "Will do. Sleep tight you two," he says with a wink before leaving.

            "Your family is strange," Kurt says. Then, so quietly I'm not sure I hear it, he adds as he heads into the bathroom, "But I like them."

            Oh just wait till you meet father, I think; you're gonna love him.