All of Blaine's senses seemed to kick in at once. He took a step back and slammed the door, banging his head against the warm wood as soon as it was closed. He closed his eyes and groaned, hoping that as long as he couldn't see it the embarrassment wouldn't be there; that none of this had happened and he was dreaming and if he opened the door again there wouldn't be a girl standing outside his door with his towel—

He groaned even louder, twirling around feeling his bare ass graze the wood.

He'd left his goddamn towel outside.

He paused and pressed his ear to the door, an attempt to see if he could hear anything. Everything was silent.

Hopefully the stranger had left him to die of embarrassment in his room. Should he chance going out there again? Blaine really wanted to shower so he kind of needed his towel. He pressed his ear against the door again, but this time he heard what sounded like two people talking. There was a quick laugh and the sounds of movement before Blaine took his ear away again, contemplating all of his plausible plans of action.

A quick knock on the door pulled him out of his drastically spiralling thoughts.

Slowly, Blaine pulled the door open a crack and stuck his head out whilst hiding the rest of himself behind the door. He found himself face to face with the Latina again.

He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes before meeting her amused gaze again. "Hello," he said, shifting to reach his hand out through the crack in the door. "I'm Blaine."

The Latina just rolled her eyes and held out the towel to him, balancing it on the end of her pointer finger. "I think this belongs to you."

Blaine nodded and reached for it with his outstretched hand, but she took a step back raising her eyebrow. "Personally," she continued as if she wasn't completely and totally taunting him. "I think you look better without it."

Blaine blushed slightly but managed to push through it. "Well that's very kind of you," he said retracting his reaching hand and placing it on the door for better balance instead. "But I'd feel more comfortable if I could have it back."

"Would you now?" she asked cocking her head to the right. "Well Kurt told me to be good, and making you feel uncomfortable would go against that so, here," she said slinking closer to him. "Take it."

Blaine paused, raking her face for any signs of mischief. Her dark brown eyes seemed innocent enough, but the smirk that hadn't left her face since his towel fell was enough to put him on edge. He held out his hand slowly and sighed a breath of relief when she handed it to him, winking when their hands touched.

"I'm Santana by the way," she said as she moved back to her room—the one right next to his, Blaine managed to remember. Blaine nodded, mouthing to make a reply, but before he could speak she was gone, disappearing into her room.
Blaine let out a breath before dragging his hand and the towel back inside with him. "That was fun," he sarcastically stated to no one in particular.

Not even five minutes into the new place and he'd already managed to embarrass himself on a massive scale.

Awesome.

At least he'd met Santana now. That was one person down—though he'd hopefully avoid her for as long as he could—only three more to go! Blaine resisted the urge to roll his eyes and tied the towel tightly around his waist, not letting go of it as he opened the door with his left hand and slunk outside. He glanced around and seeing that the hallway was empty, he ran into the bathroom, locking the door and sighing with relief that he'd made.

Now he could finally shower.

--------_O_--------

Showered, dressed, and feeling a slightly bit better, Blaine figured he should probably go find Kurt before he managed to embarrass himself anymore.

Now donned in a simple black polo shirt and slacks, Blaine felt a lot more like himself. Unfortunately in his packing haste, he had forgotten to pack his hair gel so he was stuck leaving his wild hair loose and unmaintained. He frowned at it in the mirror but moved on, promising himself he'd find a place to buy some during the week.

Opening his door timidly, Blaine stepped out and debated where he should go now. He could hear noise coming from the kitchen but he wasn't sure who was down there. Oh stop whining, he told himself as he absently scratched his arm. You'll have to get to know everyone eventually, may as well start now.

Steeling himself, he walked to the stairs and descended them quickly. He whispered a quick mental thanks to Kurt for the tour of the house and moved to the kitchen where there was a loud amount of chatter and clanging of pots.

Before he could wimp out, Blaine walked through the doors, and resisted the urge to wince as all chatter died down as he walked in. Sitting at the table was a blonde boy, the Latina from before, and an older man who Blaine assumed was Kurt's father. The person clanging in the kitchen was Kurt, who was pulling out a fairly large frying pan and other ingredients that Blaine couldn't see.

Blaine scratched his arm and waited, not sure what to do.

"Hi," he said finally when nobody spoke. "I'm Blaine."

Kurt turned around and smiled at him, pointing at him with a frying pan. "Everybody," he said to the group at the table. "This is Blaine."

"We've met," Santana said lasciviously with her signature smirk, "He's got a really big c—"

"It's so nice to meet you all," Blaine squeaked, cutting Santana off. She just smirked some more, and picked up the white coffee mug that was in front of her.

The blonde boy shot her a curious look. She just shrugged and mouthed 'huge' to him, stretching her lips around the word. His eyes widened and appraised Blaine's body with interest.

Blaine was caught between being flattered and being appalled. This town and its leering, honestly.

The man rolled his eyes at the teens next to him and stood to meet Blaine. He held out his hand, and Blaine shook it, not surprised at the calluses and worn roughness he felt there. The father's hands were well worked and seasoned, not unlike the man himself, Blaine suspected.

"Sorry about these two," he said with a rough wave in their general direction. "I could swear they were born in barns before we found them."

Blaine saw Santana stick her tongue out at the man's back, causing him to suppress a giggle. "It's alright, sir." He said, giving himself a mental high five for keeping his voice level. "They've been kind."

"You don't have to lie to me," the man said with a smile.

"Hey," the blonde kid piped up. "I'd have you know, that I haven't even met the kid yet, and therefore can't be blamed for any misdemeanors done to him."

The man rolled his eyes and looked at the blonde boy, raising his eyebrow in a fashion so spectacularly Kurt, that if Blaine hadn't already figured out that he was Kurt's father, that action would have told him.

"Jeff, if there's one thing I know for certain," Kurt's dad started. "If anything happens around here it's always your fault."

"You can't deny that," Kurt piped up from the kitchen. "Trouble follows you."

The blonde—Jeff shrugged, grinning as he did so. "She's so clingy. I tried to break up with her years ago but she just keeps calling."

"And you keep answering," the man said. "Honestly, I don't even know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm charming and funny and loveable and adorable, and kicking someone like me out would be the same thing as murder."

The man nodded at Jeff's answer, playing the answer around in his head.

"You know he's right," Santana said as she placed the mug back on the counter. "He'd be hopeless all alone on the streets."

The man nodded with a small smile, "I know. You're safe this time Jeff."

Jeff placed his hand on his heart and leaned into Santana melodramatically. "Oh be still my beating heart!" he cried, donning a southern accent. "This man has paid me a mercy I'll never return, how shall I ever thank you? How?"

The father just ignored him and turned back to Blaine who was watching the interaction with an amused grin. "In case you didn't realize," the older man started, "This hooligan here is Jeff." The boy in question gave him a mini wave and a huge cheeky grin. "The girl behind him is Santana." She ignored the introduction, continuing sipping her coffee. "The boy in the kitchen is my son Kurt who you already know, and I'm Kurt's father and the owner of this house, Burt."

"Hi, Burt," Blaine said biting his tongue as the redundancy escaped his mouth.

Burt smiled and clapped him on the back, pushing him towards the table. "Take a seat," he cheered merrily walking Blaine to the empty chair facing Jeff. "Kurt's making pancakes."

"Kurt makes the best pancakes in the world," Jeff said looking at Kurt's back as he moved swiftly around the kitchen.

"I don't know," Blaine said as he settled into the bar stool seat. "My pancakes are pretty delicious."

"Is that a challenge?" Kurt asked, turning away from the fire to look at Blaine. Blaine turned around in his seat to meet Kurt's gaze, the pale boy's tone making it difficult for Blaine to discern if he was joking or not.

"Maybe," he decided to say when Kurt's face gave no indication either way. "Maybe not."

"I don't know," Jeff goaded. "That sounded like a challenge to me."

He looked at Santana who just nodded.

He looked back at Kurt with a grin, and the pale boy just rolled his eyes before turning back to the pan.

"I think you two should have a cook-off." Jeff said with excitement in his voice. He was practically vibrating in his seat as the idea built in his head. "I'm serious! That would be awesome! Everyone has a specialty they cook once a month—mine is grilled cheese, Santana's is Butternut Squash Soup, and Kurt's is pancakes. You and Kurt can have a cook-off for the best pancake chef, and whoever loses has to find a new special dish!"

"I can just find a new meal," Kurt said flipping a pancake. "It's not a big deal; I can cook a lot of things."

"Yes," Jeff said drawing out the word. "But a cook-off would be loads more fun!"

"I'll think about it," Kurt said, and even though Blaine couldn't see it, he could hear the eye roll in the boy's voice. Blaine smiled and turned back to the table.

"See!" Jeff yelled noticing it immediately. "Even Blaine wants to have this friendly competition, he's smiling!"

"I—no," Blaine spluttered. "That's not what I was smiling about."

"No?" Santana asked raising her dark eyebrow in question. "Then what were you smiling about?"

Blaine resisted the urge to smash his head through the table. She was not going to make life easy for him was she? "Just you guys," he said scratching his bicep before his pause became too long and awkward. "How nice and family-like you are. It's refreshing."

"Oh," Burt said frowning slightly. "Problems at home, Blaine?"

"Ha," Blaine scoffed, letting out a laugh bitterer than he meant it to be. "No. Yes and no. It's complicated."

Burt, Jeff, and Santana nodded, neither of them pushing any further. An awkward silence lulled over them and Blaine instantly felt bad. He scratched his neck and debated what he could say to change the nature of the conversation. Before he could really reflect on the consequences of saying 'so how about them jets?' Kurt placed a massive stack of pancakes on the table instantly ripping everybody out of their stupor.

"Eat up," Kurt said sitting down next to Blaine at the table. "This might be the last time you ever have these."

Blaine scratched his shoulder and watched in awe as Jeff took ten pancakes and piled them onto his plate. The blonde stared at the table for a moment and frowned looking at Kurt with big brown eyes. "You forgot the butter," he said sadly.

Kurt rolled his eyes but stood and went to the fridge, pulling out the butter with as much enthusiasm as a five year old being forced to go to bed.

"Help yourself, Blaine," Burt said gesturing to Blaine's empty plate. He nodded and smiled, taking a large fluffy pancake for himself.

"So what's the occasion?" Blaine asked when Kurt came back with the butter. Blaine scratched absently at his neck again, cocking his head at the pale boy. "You said breakfasts together didn't happen very often."

"They don't," Jeff said through a mouthful of food. "But Kurt lost a bet so he has to cook for us."

"Oh?" Blaine questioned, moving his hand further down the back of his shirt scratching his skin. "What bet did he lose?"

Kurt shot Jeff a stern glare that made the blonde go silent. He gave Kurt a sheepish look before shrugging. "Well you did."

"Nothing," Kurt said, pouring some syrup onto his pancakes before passing it to Blaine who took it with his left hand. His right hand was scratching diligently at a spot on his forearm, Blaine's brow creased with focus.

"You okay there?" Burt asked looking up from his pancakes.

Blaine nodded, but didn't stop scratching. "Yeah I'm fine," he said. "My arm's just really itchy and I can't seem to make it stop."

"Ugh guys," Kurt groaned, grabbing Blaine's wrist to stop him from scratching. "I told you to be good."

Santana shrugged. "It could have been much worse."

Jeff nodded, pointing towards Santana with his fork. "On her scale, this is like a one point two."

Kurt rolled his eyes, and Burt just sighed, taking another pancake while Kurt was too distracted to notice.

"What?" Blaine asked, looking at Kurt with confusion.

"These two idiots put itching powder on your towel."