“Catching up” with an ex is not something that most people find easy or desirable.  It is often awkward and uncomfortable – they have seen you at your most vulnerable; you have shared a part of yourself with them that they will hold forever, and they once had the power to crush you with a word or an action…  To say that Adrian's phone call had blindsided Douglas would be a gross understatement – he had been floored.  Perhaps that is why he met up with him?  Perhaps he felt he needed to prove that he could be mature about things, especially after the whole Benedict business?  Perhaps it was morbid curiosity?  Whatever the reason, Douglas cannot explain why he did not tell Blaine the truth, or why he did not want Blaine at his side.

Regardless, once the awkward posturing-phase had passed it had actually gone well, much to Douglas' surprise.  He had not noticed how tense he had been, however, until Adrian had poured their second glasses of wine, loosened his tie, and said:

            ‘These god-awful chairs deserve to be burned!'

They had laughed then – raucous and free, drawing the attention of other patrons and, for once, not caring.

It had been nice - just talking, without any pretence, barely concealed motives, or dark agendas lurking in an almost tangible haze around and between them.  As the wine had rapidly evaporated from bottle(s) to glass to blood, they had simply talked.  Adrian had waxed lyrical about his work and how he actually felt like he was making a difference in the world, but the topic had inevitably turned darker – towards the recent spate of bashings that had hammered the community.

            ‘Blaine's friend, Kurt, was one of them.'  Douglas adds – his own way of saying something.

            ‘I know – I treated him.'

            ‘Oh?'  His eyes flick up from his glass and the ruby-gold liquid swirling within, to meet pale green sincerity and concern.

            ‘It's part of what made me seek you out actually.'  Douglas frowns and finds his free hand suddenly ensconced within the other man's – delicate and cold clinical fingers hold firm.  ‘I had an interesting call from a Mr. Smythe…does the name ring a bell?'  Struck dumb by unexpected sense-memory from the touch, Douglas shakes his head though the name does sound familiar.  ‘Regardless, regardless…'  Adrian takes a sip of wine with his free hand and seems to consider his words carefully.  The other man never had been one to say anything without first dissecting it, Douglas muses – perhaps that is why Douglas had been caught so off-guard before?  ‘Mr. Smythe was concerned for your Blaine.  Apparently he has been cavorting about with a certain young cad we both know.'

            ‘Now, Ade – I appreciate your concern, but whoever Blaine chooses to spend time with is not for me to comment upon.'

            ‘Even if that someone is Benedict Charles?'

Douglas swallows – his throat suddenly a little too dry, his hand a little too clammy in Adrian's cool embrace.  He reaches for his glass to find it empty.

            ‘Even if that someone is Benedict Charles.'  Douglas takes pride in managing to keep his voice steady and detached.  The truth of the matter is that he and Blaine have danced around this very topic on numerous occasions and it rankles him that Adrian of all people should feel the need to comment on it.

            ‘After everything that happened between us, Diggs, I thought you would know better.'

            ‘I do know better, Ade.  I know that Blaine is more than capable of handling himself.  I know that I cannot control him – it is neither in my power, nor is it my place to do so – but I have warned him.'

            ‘What did you tell him?'

            ‘I don't see how this is really your business…'

            ‘Of course not – of course not.  Let's turn to lighter subjects, shall we?'           Adrian summons another bottle with a flick of his hand as he catches the eye of a passing waiter.

            ‘Look, it's getting late – the next couple of days are going to be rough…'

            ‘I'm just a call away if you ever want to talk – I recall how your dear Mother can be.'  It is meant to be a joke – Douglas can tell from the small smile in the creases of Adrian's eyes, but it does not sit right with him.  Adrian lost his right to talk about Douglas' family when he left.

            ‘Forgive me if I find your sudden interest in a friendship with me a little suspect…it has been years.'  It is part bite, part trap, and he knows it, but his patience is wearing thin with the topic.

            ‘I know.  I find myself quite remiss there.  I just – I have no excuses for what I did to you -'

            ‘We don't need to talk about that, Ade – it is what it is and it worked out for both of us in the end.'

            ‘You do seem to have done well for yourself.  I met your - I suppose he is your boyfriend now - again by the way.'

            ‘Fiancé.'  The word snaps from a tight jaw and, God help him, it does feel good to rub it in the other man's face a little – that fact alone (that Adrian still affect him) is enough to make Douglas cringe internally at his own behaviour.

            ‘Oh?  Congratulations are in order then.'  The wine is conspicuously timely in its arrival, and Douglas' glass is refilled before he can cover it with his hand.  ‘I hadn't seen an announcement…this is recent?'

            ‘We wanted to be certain…'

            ‘Understood, understood.  I can't exactly say anything about the age gap, can I now.'

            ‘No.'

            ‘I can see why you would be besotted with him, however.  He is quite charming.  However –'

            ‘Spit it out, Adrian.  I know you – I know how you think; we were together a long time and I know when you want to say something - so spit it out and be done with it.'

            ‘Tetchy tonight , aren't we?  Fine.  I was just wondering what the story was between your Blaine and my patient, Mr. Hummel – they seemed close, if you know what I mean?'

            ‘That would be because they are.  But, again – this would be my business, not yours.'

            ‘True, true.'  He raises a glass and gestures for Douglas to join him.  ‘To your impending nuptials, my dear Diggs.  I will admit – I thought I would never see the day.  When you stopped coming to the Club I was distraught, I'm not going to lie.  But I do understand.  I'll admit that the day you reappeared in the Club, my friend, was the day I knew things would be alright.  It is good to see you happy, Diggs.  To you, and your darling, Blaine – may you have a happy life together.'

Douglas accepts the toast – the alcohol warms the ice of the delivery.  He takes the moment to try to see beneath what Adrian projects, but, Adrian had always been an enigma to Douglas, and was that not just the problem?  Once, he had thought himself privy to the other man's every dream and wish – only to find he had never really known him at all. 

The wine simmers in his belly and an ancient spark of anger catches light.  

            ‘So, quid pro quo, Ade.  Tell me – how did Mr. Charles succeed where I so obviously failed you?'

            ‘Don't let's go there, Diggs.  We know how that story ended – you've moved on, you're happy, why rub salt on the wound?'

            ‘Because I deserve to know.  You can't just waltz back into my life, Adrian.  I loved you, and seeing you again…it brings it all back, so tell me?'  He manages to keep his voice low and measured so as not to draw more attention to their table, but only barely.

Adrian sighs – his fingers tighten minutely around Douglas' own, as if he is scared the other man will walk away.  Douglas sighs, but does not remove his hand or squeeze reassuringly back in return.

            ‘I was scared.  What we had…I read about your new building by the way – I was right – you were destined for greatness…  Anyway…back then…  My career was just taking off, Diggs.  You know how damaging it would have been for me to “come out” back then – can you imagine?  A doctor coming out in the middle of the AIDS epidemic?  I would have been ruined…'

            ‘I was just sick of the lies and the hiding.  It didn't have to be public!'

            ‘How could it not be?'

            ‘Did you even stop to think how I'd feel?  I came home to find you gone!'

            ‘I still have no idea how you were surprised, Douglas!'

            ‘I shouldn't have been really – you'd been absent emotionally for months before.'

            ‘And I can never explain how sorry I am for that.'

            ‘Just tell me something – why was he worth it?'

            ‘God knows he wasn't.  Benedict has this way of making you feel as if you are his sun – he made me believe that I was the love of his life, Diggs.  After you – after I left I was miserable, and you were miserable and I did that.  That's all on me.  I know it is…  I can never make that right.  But I met him and he was so passionate and energetic, and…I guess he made me forget.  I was such a fool, Diggs.  Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life, and as soon as I left I knew I had utterly lost you.  Benedict was the perfect distraction, and I wanted to believe – to believe that I loved him.  So, I let my guard down.  I made a mistake, and it almost cost me my job.  I regret Benedict every day.'

            ‘Thank you for finally being honest with me.'

            ‘Do you think if we had met later things would have been different, Diggs?  I mean – it's not easy today…  I'm not saying that –'

            ‘We'll never know.'

            ‘Because of your fiancé?'

            ‘I don't know, Ade…  Look, how about this – we try again as friends?'

He has no idea what made him reach out.  Probably the wine had a lot to do with it…but the other man's maudlin expression thawed slightly, and Douglas felt better for reawakening Adrian's smile.  That reaction alone boggled his mind a little, and for the second time that evening Douglas questioned why he had even agreed to dinner.

            By the time he returns home he had begun to sober up – he cannot recall whether they finished that last bottle of wine, but he does remember coffee and an easier flow of conversation once the air and lingering bad blood had finally cleared between them.  Truth be told, spending time with Adrian had turned out to be a good distraction (even if he was going to suffer in the morning for it); he felt a little lighter now he had unloaded some of the baggage he had been left with, and had not thought about his impending return to his ancestral home for hours.  He baulks when he realises the time, and instantly feels awful for blowing Blaine off.  However, his guilt turns to sour panic when he realises that Blaine is nowhere to be found – there is a moment when he thinks that it has happened again – but a quick check reveals Blaine's bag packed and ready for the morning beside his own.  He catches his breath before remembering to check his cell phone to see whether Blaine left an indication of when he would be back.  There are no messages however, so reluctantly he readies himself to attempt to sleep (even though he knows he will not), trusting that Blaine will be back in time to leave for Southampton come morning light.

-+-

            Blaine makes it back to the penthouse exactly five minutes before the car had been due to collect them.  It is in fact waiting for him, and he does not even have time to say a word to Douglas before climbing in (still wearing yesterday's clothes) and trusting that his bags were already in the trunk beside Douglas' own.

If he had not already felt horrifically hung-over and still queasy from the combined effect of whatever it was he had taken the night before, he would have thought that he could not possibly feel worse.  However, the look Douglas gives him changes that – it can always be worse.

They sit in silence – both utterly conscious that they need to talk, but aware that there is unlikely to be a moment to themselves to do so now, for who knows how long.

-+-

            The house is exactly as Blaine remembers it – cold and imposing - but this time the halls echo with voices.  Doug almost crushes him in a hug the second he spots him, but it is the presence of Rachel that catches him off-guard.  Before he gets a chance to say anything, however, he finds himself being bid to accompany Douglas to their room (thankfully they are in the Blue Bedroom again – at least Blaine knows where that is) under the pretence of helping him find something or other.  As they mount the stairs in utter silence Blaine finds his pulse in overdrive with panic, as well as the strange guilt-compounded-with-jealous-fear over the events of the previous evening.  What if Rachel told Doug about the kiss with Kurt?  Does Rachel even know about it?  Would Kurt have told her?  Of course he would – they were friends.  Blaine confessed to Charlie, and Bas, hadn't he? 

Douglas holds the door to the Blue Bedroom open and Blaine enters to find himself staring out of the window onto the immaculate lawns – frozen as they are, they look washed-out like a faded watercolour – and the trees, now baring thick hoarfrost rather than leaves, seem to reach for him with skeletal fingers.  He flinches as Douglas closes the door behind them, and Blaine reluctantly turns to face him.

            ‘I was worried.'

            ‘I know.  I'm…I messed up.'  Blaine can barely look at the concern and pain on Douglas' face.

            ‘You look awful.'

            ‘Thanks.  I deserve that.'

            ‘What happened?'

            ‘I…'  For a second he considers apologising profusely, begging forgiveness, and submitting, but his head is pounding and he remembers his conversation with Sebastian.  He owes it to himself to find out the truth.  He cannot keep avoiding things.  He needs to know.  He takes a breath and a step forwards.  ‘What's going on with you and Dr. Richmond?'     

            ‘Nothing.  He's a friend, Blaine; you know that.'

            ‘I saw the two of you last night, Douglas.  Please tell me what's going on, because I…I don't want to jump to any more conclusions.'

            ‘We had dinner as friends.  I should have told you – I honestly have no idea why I didn't…'

            ‘I thought you were on business.  I…I saw the two of you together and no one was looking at you both like they look when you and I go out.  You looked right together –'

            ‘Nothing is going on between Adrian and I, Blaine – I swear to you.'

            ‘What was I supposed to think?'

Douglas sits heavily down on the edge of the enormous and ridiculously ornate bed, and Blaine finds himself slumped against the taller man.  He feels utterly boneless and exhausted – there is a woodpecker trying to dig a grub in his brain out through his temple, and a hoard of rats are nesting in his intestines whilst using his diaphragm as a trampoline.  It hurts to breathe.

            ‘Where did you stay last night?'

            ‘With Bas.  I…I'm sorry I didn't listen to you about Charlie.'

            ‘What happened?'

            ‘He gave me something…I was so confused, and angry -'

            ‘What did you take?  Are you alright?  Did you go to hospital?'  Blaine swears Douglas' voice raises at least an octave with each statement; he finds himself being manhandled, and examined for any obvious signs of injury or other damage.

            ‘Hey, hey – calm down.  I'm fine – really!  I was really sick for a while – I honestly felt like I was going to die - but Bas looked after me.  I'm fine now – just have a really, really bad headache so quiet talking would be good.'     

            ‘How could you be so reckless?'

            ‘I know I messed up.  I should have asked you what was going on before letting my fears get the best of me.  I should never have gone to Charlie, and I should not have let him get me drunk and then…  I don't need you to make me feel worse here.  I'm going to be alright.  I just need a load of water to drink, and a shower…and to maybe sleep for a couple of years…but I'll be fine.  I'm sorry I made you worry, alright – but if you'd have told me what was going on I wouldn't have jumped to conclusions -'  He means his last statement playfully but his tirade is cut short when he is crushed slightly in a hug.  Douglas holds him tightly, breathing him in, and Blaine crumples into the other man. 

            ‘You smell vile by the way.'  Blaine mostly feels rather than hears Douglas – the other man's mouth and nose are nestled against the crown of Blaine's head.  

He huffs out a little laugh in response, though it is tight, and Blaine feels tears prick the corners of his eyes, but Douglas does not pull away.

            ‘I should really grab a shower before we see any more of your family.  Wouldn't want to embarrass you.'

            ‘I love you so much, Blaine.'

            ‘I know.'

-+-

            Somehow Douglas had managed to squirrel them away until that evening – probably, Blaine realised, using some excuse that Blaine was unwell to guarantee them some peace.  He was utterly grateful as he had actually managed to shower and get some rest.  Seemingly Douglas had not slept well the previous night either and so the two had slept through until a discrete knock on their door from Oliver had alerted them that they “may want to get ready for dinner”.

Blaine calmly adjusted Douglas' bowtie in an attempt to distract the other man – he was still looking at Blaine as an auctioneer would check an antique vase for any signs of damage. 

            ‘I feel fine, Douglas.  I promise.'

            ‘I just worry.  You've no idea what Benedict gave you?'

            ‘It was a pill of some kind, but it just made me really, really sick.  I'm sure some food will help – and on that note: I'm pretty certain that your mother will not forgive us being late to dinner seeing as we absolutely missed lunch and we have yet to see her.'

Douglas dips his head in acquiescence but Blaine knows that the other man will be watching him like a proverbial hawk all evening for any signs of illness.  Blaine slips on his own dinner jacket before holding the door and gesturing for Douglas to hurry up.

-+-

            Blaine had thought that this “family gathering” they had been invited to (well “blackmailed into attending” would be more accurate) would have been simply that – a family gathering – it was almost Christmas after all, and they had not had a similar event for Thanksgiving that Blaine had been aware of.  He was sadly mistaken.

When he entered the dining room he had been glad to have had Douglas' arm – the room was set for at least thirty people, and was rapidly filling.  Blaine had no idea who three quarters of them were but he spotted Adeline and Roger with Roger Jnr, Doug and Rachel and felt a little less intimidated: at least he had some friends present.  He had been about to head in their direction when he felt Douglas lead him towards a small group of people instead.  Blaine instantly recognised Douglas' mother, Julia – her white hair was dressed as if for a debutant ball with emerald hair pins to match her silk evening gown.  Blaine took a deep breath and plastered his most charming smile into place.

            ‘Douglas, dah-ling!  So good to see you.  You look so well.  Doesn't he look well, June?' 

One of the women in the group looked up in response – she was small in stature, but there was nothing fragile about her.  She tilts her head – sharp eyes flitting from Douglas straight to Blaine appraisingly.  He felt like a piece of meat under her calculating gaze. 

            ‘Indeed, Julia – and who is this?'

            ‘Blaine Anderson, may I introduce June Dolloway.  June is a very dear friend of mine.'

            ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Ms. Dolloway.'  He is not wholly sure what possessed him, but he takes the woman's hand and kisses it lightly.

            ‘He's the one I was telling you about at that charity auction last week – the pianist.'  Julia seems utterly sincere, and Blaine finds himself all the more nervous.  ‘You will play for us after dinner while the men have their whiskey won't you, Blaine?'

            ‘Uh – Of course.'

Julia gives him a look he cannot quite decipher and Blaine feels Douglas tense beside him.  June continues to watch him as Julia parades Douglas and himself through the rest of the ladies and gentlemen who had gathered around her like swans.  Blaine could not help but notice that June was the only lady in the company who was not wearing a dress – instead she wore an elegant black pantsuit adorned with sequins.  She held attention even amongst such a fine crowd.

Eventually, Julia directed the assembly to take their seats, and Blaine found himself briefly squinting at place-cards before Douglas gently directed him to their seats.  To Blaine's surprise Julia had them actually seated beside each other – Douglas had warned him on their way downstairs earlier that it was usual to seat guests alternating males and females at dinner.  A glance to the rest of the table however finds that, aside from Douglas and himself, the pattern had been maintained.  Douglas sits to the right of his mother, with Blaine to his right.  To Blaine's right is a walrus of a gentleman Blaine vaguely recalls as being a cousin from the London branch of the family.  He tries not to take the fact that he is again being classed with the women as an insult, and instead takes the opportunity to quietly question Douglas about June.  He manages to discern that June is a socialite – the widow of a mineral baron – before their attention is demanded by the arrival of the senior Douglas.  Once he is seated the service begins – waiters in black tie begin to serve the first course.  Blaine manages to catch both Rachel and Doug's eye at various points during the dinner; however, they had been seated at the far-end of the table so any attempt at conversation is made impossible.  Instead he finds himself politely answering questions when he is spoken to, but otherwise, he remains blissfully ignored.

-+-

            After the gentlemen retire to the billiard room (to Douglas' chagrin, and Blaine's insistence that he is “fine” with being left with the ladies) Blaine finds himself ushered to the piano where he is tasked by Julia to provide an “ambience”.  He takes that as meaning “background music” so proceeds to play the first piece of music that comes into his head – he starts easy with classics he knows most of the party would recognise.  His hands and fingers warm up quickly, and he tries to concentrate – not having practiced in months he is conscious that he is no longer perfect.  Rachel eventually sidles up to him and squeezes alongside him on the piano bench.

            ‘This is kind of intimidating.'

He cannot help but laugh a little at her understatement.

            ‘It's good to see you.  Sorry I didn't get to say hello earlier –'

            ‘No – it's fine, really.  I…uh…I guess you weren't expecting to see me.'

            ‘Got to be honest – no.  But I'm glad you're here.'

She smiles a little at that.

            ‘So – why do you get to avoid the “manly” retreat with the rest of the waspy old gentlemen?  I swear – I had no idea people actually still did this.'

            ‘Because Julia does not consider me to be a man apparently?  I've no idea.  She did this last time too.  It's kind of embarrassing.'  He grimaces slightly and Rachel frowns in response.

            ‘Didn't Douglas say anything to her?'

            ‘I don't need anyone to say something for me, Rachel.  If I wasn't happy with it I'd say something.  I actually don't mind.  All they'll be doing is drinking, talking about how amazing their businesses are, and preening.  I'd much rather be here.'

            ‘Oh.  Okay.'

They fall into silence as he plays for a while.  Rachel seems relieved to “hide” with Blaine, and he understands – it takes no effort to imagine how overwhelmed she feels.

At some point Blaine realises that June is still watching him – he throws her his most charming smile and forces himself not to stare back.

            ‘Blaine?'

He had almost forgotten the brunette sandwiched against his side, lost as he had been within Vivaldi and Verdi, Bach and Brahms.  He glances over, but he recognises the look she is giving him without having to turn to fully face her.

            ‘It's just a ring, Rachel.  You'd think people had never seen one before.'

            ‘That's not just an anything, Blaine!  How could you?  How could you do this to Kurt?'

            ‘Shhh!  Keep it down.  I'll explain later I promise, but it's not about Kurt, alright?'

            ‘How, Blaine?  How is this not about Kurt?  You kissed!'

            ‘Shhh!  Please!'

            ‘He's in love with you.  I thought you loved him too.'

            ‘Not now, alright?'

It is that moment that the men pour into the room, bringing with them the spicy scent of bourbon, and Blaine's temporary reprieve.  He can feel Rachel glaring at him as he quickly scopes the room in an attempt to spot Douglas or Doug. 

            ‘This is not over, Blaine.'

            ‘Rachel, please – just let it go for now.  I promise I'll tell you what is going on, but please don't tell Doug.'

            ‘Don't tell Doug?  I don't exactly need to tell Doug anything, Blaine, because you're wearing a ring on your left ring-finger.  You know what Kurt said to me?  He begged me not to tell Doug about you and him.  He said it didn't need complicating.  He was trying to protect you, Blaine.'

            ‘I don't need protecting.'

            ‘No – you need shaking.'

The space she had occupied feels freezing when she leaves, but he keeps his head up and game face on, whilst watching Rachel and Doug from his place at the piano.  He is so preoccupied with watching for any sign of trouble that when Julia appears beside him he physically jumps.

            ‘Douglas tells me you sing.'

            ‘Uh – yes.  Well, no…not in a long time now.'

            ‘Sing something for us.'

He wants to say “I'm not here for your entertainment.”  He wants to scream.  He wants to step away from the safety blanket of the piano and leave – to walk until he can no longer feel his feet amongst the husks of trees and frozen leaves.  Instead he nods and Julia takes that as her invitation to draw the attention of the entire room onto him.

            ‘As promised, Mr. Anderson has agreed to sing for us.'

It dawns on Blaine then that she must have planned this all along as at some point, while he had been distracted, the staff had set out a number of chairs, whilst still managing to keep refreshments and drinks replenished and without drawing any attention.  Julia takes a seat, dragging Douglas, who looks like he is about to make a scene on Blaine's behalf, down with her.  Blaine manages to throw what he hopes resembles a reassuring smile in Douglas' direction, and, praying that his voice will not betraying having not had an opportunity to warm up, begins to play.

He tries not to dwell on why the first song that comes to mind is Carole King's It's Too Late.

-+-

He had thought it would be a song, but Julia motions for more after the first, so he plays a couple of Rat Pack classics and throws in a standard or two for good measure.  Douglas looks a curious mixture between in awe and furious and Blaine has no doubt which of the emotions is aimed at him, and which at Julia.  He continues to watch Rachel and Doug from the corner of his eye, until he is struck with an idea.

            ‘So, we are actually luck to have soon-to-be-on-Broadway-as-Ms-Fanny-Brice in the revival of Funny Girl, the amazingly talented Ms Rachel Berry, with us this evening.  Rachel, would you do me the great honour of accompanying me?'

He knew it was a risk, but he had calculated correctly – layering the right amount of honey into his voice together with enough of an ego-prod that it is seconds before Rachel is beside him again.  Before she can say anything however, he begins to play.  A dark part of him revels in his song choice and he does not miss the look Rachel throws him as she begins her part of Broadway Baby.

-+-

            Julia decides when Blaine is done by leading applause in a declaration of an “intermission”.  Blaine barely conceals his growing frustration.  Douglas is beside him with a glass of water and a fountain of apologies in an instant, much to Rachel's annoyance.  He is followed by June who takes the opportunity to survey Blaine again before glancing to Rachel.  Blaine quickly corrects his mistake and introduces one fiery woman to the other.

            ‘I'm sorry – Ms. Dolloway, this is Ms. Rachel Berry.  She is about to de-'

            ‘- Funny Girl.  I heard.'  Rachel had turned to face June in expectation of praise, but barely has a chance to say a word before June is focused back on Blaine.  Douglas shifts uncomfortably by his side.  ‘Do you know who I am, Mr. Anderson?'  A codfish, he opens his mouth to answer, but June apparently had no intention of letting him as she continues almost without pause.  ‘I have a very discerning and tasteful eye for the extraordinary, and I love to hone it like a rough diamond until it sparkles.  I have a good feeling about you.  Would you be so kind as to escort me to a little charity dinner I am attending next week?  And then we can discuss your future over a $25,000 plate of rubber chicken.'

Blaine feels Rachel's eyes on the side of his head.  He feels Douglas's sharp intake of breath beside him.  He feels Julia's approach. 

            ‘I…I'd be delighted, Ms. Dolloway.'

            ‘Good.'

He feels the blood rush from his head.

            ‘I told you he was something special now didn't I, June?'  Julia is at June's elbow, but June is still watching him with shrewd eyes.  Blaine nods slightly, and June dips her chin in response.  Blaine feels as if he has just signed a contract in blood.

-+-

            Unsurprisingly, Rachel refuses to sing with him again and storms off, taking a very confused and bewildered Doug with her.  Blaine is torn between chasing her down and not being able to feel his feet.

Of course that is when Julia chooses to make an announcement and it all erupts.

-+-

Rachel (to Kurt):  Call me.  Now.

-+-

            ‘I cannot believe you, mother!'

Julia sits ramrod straight as Douglas paces.  Blaine feels like a piece of furniture and wishes he could actually become one.  Thankfully Roger had had the presence of mind to lead the four of them into the library and away from the main party after Julia's little announcement – apparently he was excellent at reading both his mother and Douglas.  Blaine dreads to think what would have happened had they remained amongst the guests.

            ‘I thought you would be happy – this is after all what you wanted, Douglas, now is it not?  All our friends and family heard it from us first, directly, and they had a chance to talk to you both and see that Blaine is not merely some boy but a very talented young man who, quite frankly, surpassed my expectations of him tonight.'

            ‘You know that is not what I meant!'

            ‘He's wearing a ring on his finger, Douglas.  You can't expect no-one to have noticed – it is not exactly subtle.'

            ‘Blaine and my relationship is not something you get to flaunt with your friends now that homosexuality has suddenly started to become accepted as the new fad in your social circles!  How many of your friends suddenly have gay sons now?  You don't get to publically out and accept me after all these years, and you certainly do not get to Blaine around like he is your personal entertainer!'

            ‘You honestly think that was what I was doing?  You stupid, ignorant boy!  Your father is dying.  Did you know that?  He has months left.  Two at the most.  I just wanted to have something to celebrate!  Your father and I agreed to keep news of his health quiet, but he wanted an opportunity to see our family and friends together and happy one last time.  He read about your building in China.  He is so proud of you, Douglas, and so long as any children you and Blaine should have are biologically yours –'

            ‘You sly, manipulative, bitch.'

            ‘What did you just call me?'

            ‘You heard me, mother.  How dare you?  How dare you!'

Roger chooses that moment to intervene.

            ‘Not now, Diggsie.  Come on – why don't you take Blaine out and show him the gardens while I have a chat to Mother?  I'm sure Blaine would like to see the grounds?'

            ‘How long have you known, Roger?'  The look Douglas throws his younger brother is murderous.

            ‘Known what?'  Roger's dark eyes are wide and placating, but his brother sees straight through them.

            ‘About father's illness.'

            ‘I was going to tell you –'

            ‘Goddammit, Roger!'

            ‘Douglas, please keep your voice down, dear.  The guests...'  Julia's eyes dance between her sons, but there is almost a gleam of delight behind them rather than the worry, shock, or anger Blaine had expected.

            ‘Of course, of course – wouldn't want them to see how utterly devious you both are.'  Douglas spits the words at his brother and Blaine watches in silence as the men square off.

            ‘Listen, Douglas – Mother and I didn't want to worry you.  We know how busy you've been with the business, and we wanted to be sure –'

            ‘Be sure of what exactly?'

            ‘Be sure that you wouldn't do something rash.'

            ‘Oh, I'll show you rash.  Tell him he can keep it.  He can keep the money.  He can keep the houses.  He does not get to dictate a second more of my life and that goes for you too, Mother.  I spent years of my life hiding who I was.  I tried to be the perfect son for you and all I received in return was thinly veiled disappointment.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I couldn't marry a congressman's daughter like Roger did.  I'm sorry I was inconvenient for you – it must have been terrible trying to explain why your eldest wouldn't marry.  But if you think that you get to pretend to be all accepting now you are sorely mistaken.  I am jumping through no more hoops for you or this family.  I'm done with the plotting and the lies.  I'm done.'

            ‘Be reasonable, Douglas.  Just go for a walk and cool off and then I'll explain everything.'  Roger keeps his voice low, but Douglas just glares at him.

            ‘How exactly can you explain using me to distract from father's illness?  How do you explain keeping something like that from me?  No – you know what – I'm leaving.  Keep me in, write me out – I don't care.  Just know this – I will fight you.  Not for the money or the houses or even for the business that I have put the best years of my life into.  No.  I'll fight you because it will ruin you.  If I'm written out you better believe that I'll make damn sure all the “reasons” are in all the papers - you mark my words.  So you better tell him to make his decision “coolly” and “rationally” because, unlike you, I keep my promises.'