Chapter Seven

"Anderson!" Coach Roz yelled as Blaine walked towards the football field. "Where are you going?"

He paused, turned towards her and said, "To hang out with people."

She narrowed her eyes at him and said, "Why aren't you in class?"

"It's my lunch break," he shrugged.

"Then get to the cafeteria or the amphitheater," she said.

He contemplated ignoring her and continuing to the bleachers for a smoke.

"NOW, Anderson!" she yelled.

With a frustrated sigh, he walked back towards the main building, with the swimming coach following him. Smoking, apparently, would have to wait until later.

Kurt and his Cheerio sidekicks were sitting in their usual spot halfway up the steps.

For the past few days, he had avoided meeting up with the group, but his only other option was sitting with Mike inside the cafeteria. Unfortunately he sat with his girlfriend. Who was in glee club. With Rachel.

Taking a breath, he walked up to the Cheerios.

Santana's glared at him. "What do you want?" she said venomously.

"Can't go smoke. Coach Roz is guarding the bleachers," Blaine said nonchalantly as he sat down next to Kurt.

"Smoking is gross, Blaine," Kurt said just before eating a grape.

"It helps with stress."

"It really doesn't."

Blaine shrugged. "You're only eating grapes?"

"Yes. Coach has us on a diet."

"You're coach is insane. You need more than that."

"Says the one not eating anything."

The curly haired boy snatched a grape of the tray and popped it into his mouth. Smirking, he said, "I'm eating."

"Mature, Anderson," Kurt said shaking his head. "Don't touch my food again."

"I'll try." He then turned his attention to Quinn. "So have you made a decision about tomorrow?"

Before the blonde could answer, Santana huffed in aggravation. "If he's staying, I'm leaving."

"Bye, Satan," Blaine said mockingly.

"Don't be rude," Kurt reprimanded him. Turning to his co-captain, he added, "You don't have to leave."

"Yeah, I kinda do. I'll see you guys at practice," she said.

Once the girl was out of hearing distance, Blaine asked, "What's her problem?"

The three remaining Cheerios looked at him astonished.

"You slept with her then asked Quinn to go to some fancy dinner with you, she's pissed, and hurt even though she won't admit it."

"It was just sex. It doesn't mean I want to date her," Blaine said.

"She's not upset about that. She's upset because you're saying she isn't good enough to be seen with you," Kurt said.

"She's not."

"You're an asshole," Quinn said with disgust. "I don't even know why Kurt is hanging out with you."

"I take that as a no to going with me?"

"I didn't say that. You're inviting me to one of the most important dinners in the state," she explained. "I'd be stupid to say no."

"So… yes?" Blaine asked.

"It's a yes. It doesn't mean you I'm going to sleep with you or anything like that. I've got standards. I just can't live with myself if I pass this opportunity up," she said. Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

"This isn't about wanting to sleep with you. I don't have a choice and I need a date," Blaine sneered. "Kurt needed my help, so I took advantage of that. You're just benefiting from it."

"How?" she asked.

"Like you said, this dinner is really fucking important."

Before Quinn could reply, the bell rang.

"I'll see you at three tomorrow," Blaine said before walking away from the group.

"Coach is going to kill me for missing practice!" he heard her moan.

A few moments later, Kurt's musical voice yelled, "Wait up!"

Seconds later, the boy was walking next to him.

"Why do you always have to be so rude?" he asked.

"When was I rude?"

"Seriously, Blaine?" Kurt snapped. "You don't recall Santana storming off? You want to be my friend, but everything you do is driving my friends away!"

"I'm not trying to drive them away. I fucked Santana, big deal."

"And you're bribing Q to go out with you. In front of her."

"I'm not bribing anyone to do anything. Besides, who said I wanted to be your friend anyway?" Blaine declared.

"Other than the tutoring, you're the one that keeps seeking me out. I'd say that means you want to be my friend."

"Yeah, whatever," Blaine mumbled.

Kurt let out a high pitched, musical laugh.

God, Blaine thought. He shook his head before the thought could go any farther. Creating more drama was the last thing he wanted to do. Or deal with. His father's words from the previous weekend still plagued his mind.

"Let's get to French before the late bell rings," he finally said, pulling Blaine out of his head.

The two boys barely made it into their seats at the back of the classroom before the bell rang. The teacher sent them a short glare before continuing the lesson on passé composé from the day before.

Unlike Kurt, Blaine didn't pull out his text book. Both of them were fluent, and the class, despite being the AP course, was a joke. Instead he pulled out a spiral notebook covered in scribbles and a pen. He ripped a blank page out of the back and scrawled a note across it.

I have to skip out on our study session tonight.

Why is that?

I have to go home for some family stuff before the dinner tomorrow night.

Ah… And that's going to keep us from studying how?

You don't seriously think I consider that house home? I'm going to my house in Westerville.

That makes more sense. How is living with Rachel Berry anyway?

I think I'd rather be homeless. ;)

Blaine watched as the boy read the last line. Kurt leaned over the desk and covered his mouth with his hand. His free hand wrote something on the paper. His blue eyes, shining with laughter, met Blaine's as he slid the paper back.

Says the boy that wears more designer clothes than I do. Z Zenga today? Really? The paper read.

Shut it you. Be nice to me.

Why should I?

Because I'm new here?

It doesn't work that way Anderson.

I'll buy you things. Something from the upcoming Marc Jacobs line?

That's a hell of a bribe. My friendship for advance Marc Jacobs. Did you think I'd say no?

I knew you'd say yes.

Class was over before either of them knew it.

"So Sunday?" Blaine asked.

"Yep. Have fun with Q."

"She's going to have a lot more fun than me," Blaine said cryptically before walking away from the Cheerio.

In his fifth period AP British Literature class they were reading The Crisis by Winston Churchill. Between that snooze fest of a book and Santana glaring at him from across the room, class moved impossibly slow.

Briefly, he contemplated skipping Psychology, but the terror he lived with would find out and snitch. Then he wouldn't get his car. He went to class.

"Get off my car, Blaine!" Rachel screamed at him two hours later.

He was lying across the hood of the car smoking. For the first time all day, thoughts of his father and Kurt were out of his head. He was floating.

"Blaine!" she screeched again.

"Jesus fuck! Take the stick out of your ass!" he said before climbing down.

"What are you smoking? It smells awful."

"A cigarette," he lied.

"UGH! No it's not. Where did you even get drugs from?"

"Does it matter?"

"Just… get in the car. I won't tell mom, but you so owe me."

He rolled his eyes and climbed in.

The house was as bleak as ever when they pulled up. A part of him was hopeful when he saw the silver BMW parked in the driveway. Those hopes were quickly dashed when he saw the nondescript beige sedan parked on the curb. Even without the blue license plate it was obviously a police car. It was a Crown Vic after all.

"Fuck!" he said and began digging through Rachel's car. "Do you have perfume or body spray or some shit in here?"

"In my purse why?"

He didn't answer but instead snatched it out and sprayed himself several times. Rachel coughed from the potency of the perfume.

"Are my eyes blood shot?" he asked as he fished several small plastic bags from his shoulder bag and shoved it into her purse. "Don't lose those, I'm going to need them back."

"Are those drugs? YOU HAVE DRUGS IN MY CAR?"

"Shut it. If everything goes right, I won't have to ride in your piece of shit fucking car again. Don't say a damn word. I'll get it from you tonight."

"I can't wait until you're out of our lives, Blaine," she seethed. She turned to car off and stormed into the house.

He followed, walking as slowly as possible.

"Good of you to join us," his father says once he's seated at the small dining room table. "Rachel came in nearly ten minutes ago."

"What do you want?"

"These officers have some questions to ask you," Andrew added. He was sitting next to Blaine.

Across from the three of them sat the same detective that kept him the interrogation room for hours. It was hard for him to believe it had only been two weeks, and it felt like it was yesterday.

"This is my partner, Detective Summers," Detective Lewis said, "We've got a few more questions to ask you."

"Okay?"

"Can you tell us again where you were last Sunday night?"

"My dorm."

"And what were you rehearsing for?"

"The Alumni Gala."

It was true. The Warblers performed at the Alumni Gala every year, because the Alumni Association donated a lot of money to the show choir.

"And you've never met Elias or Mitchel Carter before?"

"No."

"And yet, you were caught on surveillance camera going into a warehouse a couple of blocks from where they were attacked."

Blaine racked his mind trying to figure out what business near the warehouse had cameras, but couldn't think of one.

"Don't answer that. Could you give us a second?" Andrew asked.

He stood up and beckoned Blaine to follow him into the hallway.

"If you fess up to the fight club, they'll look for other people."

"And I'll have to give up names. And phone numbers."

"Please don't tell me you're running it."

When Blaine didn't answer, the man looked at him incredulously.

"Christ Blaine. I'm not going to tell you to lie, but you really need to stop doing stupid things. You'll be an adult in five months. Your father and I can't protect you then."

Blaine nodded with understanding. The two of them walked back into the dining room. His father was eying him dangerously. They couldn't afford for Blaine to be arrested the right before one of the biggest nights of the year.

"Ready to talk Blaine?" Detective Summers asked. She was several years younger than her partner, maybe in her late-twenties, with light brown hair and a fading tan. She seemed soft, too soft to be a police officer. And her tone was mother, comforting.

It was a lie too; A way of manipulating him into feeling comfortable and talking; Into saying something to incriminate himself. He could play along though. That would be easy.

"There's a fight club that meets around Westerville on occasion. We met in that warehouse that night."

"What time?"

"I'm not sure. Jeff and I left Dalton around ten. Right after we finished practicing."

"And you lied about it because?" Detective Summers asked.

"A lot of people show up. I don't know everyone involved."

"It's not just students from Dalton?"

"I'm the only person that participates. Jeff goes with me to make sure I get home. There could be other students, but if so, they aren't part of the same circles I am."

"Is it just minors?"

"I don't know. People don't use real names. We show up, blow off some steam, then go home."

"Do you know anyone other than Jeffrey Sterling?"

"There's someone named Chris. No last name. He texts us time and date."

"Do you have the phone number?"

"No. He never uses the same number."

He gave a brief description of the imaginary Chris, who looked like several different people mixed together. They bought it.

"You're still a suspect, Blaine. Until we find this Chris and can validate your story," Detective Summers said sympathetically.

"It could have been anyone there," Andrew pointed out.

"And we'll look into that. The victim is still saying it was them. Unless we can get evidence proving otherwise, or a witness, Blaine is still our main suspect," Detective Lewis said.

Once the door closed behind them, Richard turned to his son and said, "Chris is…"

"Not real," Blaine finished.

"You just lied?"

"It'll keep them busy for a while. And off my case. What more do you want?"

Blaine was frustrated, and his high had been rudely interrupted. He needed a cigarette, at the minimum.

"This behavior has to end Blaine. I won't allow you to continue to act like this. You're to be on your best behavior tomorrow, understand?"

"Yes."

And he was. Well, he was as well behaved as Blaine Anderson could be.

He arrived at Quinn's house ten minutes early Saturday. A blond woman, with the same high cheekbones and Quinn, opened the door. She regarded him skeptically for a moment before stepping aside and inviting him into the house.

"You must be Blaine," she said leading him into the living room.

"Yes ma'am."

"You aren't what we were expecting."

"How is that?"

A man, who he assumed to be Quinn's father, stood up and walked over to Blaine, and said, "The punks she usually goes out with are delinquents. It's good to see her with a good Christian boy."

The Fabrays no doubt deemed him appropriate because of who he was. It was doubtful any of Quinn's boyfriends had even been in legal trouble. They were most likely poor, like the majority of people in Lima.

Oh the irony, Blaine thought ruefully.

"She'll be down in just a moment," Mrs. Fabray told him. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thank you."

A few moments later, Quinn came down the stairs. She wore a floor length navy chiffon dress, with wide straps and waist covered in gold beading. Her blonde hair was swept up in a bun at the nape of her neck.

"You look beautiful," Blaine said as he met her in the foyer. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before taking he hand and spinning her in a circle, much to Mrs. Fabray's delight.

And Quinn's irritation, if the glare she shot him was anything to go by.

"I'll have her back before midnight," Blaine told her father. He then turned to the Cheerio and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," she bit out.

Once they were in the sleek black Mercedes, she said, "So you are able to act like a human being and not a total jack-ass."

"And I hope you can manage to not be a bitch the entire night," he said as he started the car.

"Oh fuck you, Blaine."

"You'd like that wouldn't you." He smirked at her and placed his hand on her thigh.

"Don't touch me," she said shoving his hand off.

"Does that mean you won't dance with me?"

"No, but don't think this means I'll sleep with you," she spat.

"You'll change your mind, Q. They all do."

"You disgust me."

A few minutes of silence passed. Blaine attempted to keep his eyes on the road, but kept glancing towards the blonde every few seconds. In the short period of time since they left her house, Quinn had gone from looking bright eyed and hopeful to miserable. Guilt surged through him.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She whipped her head around to look at him, "What?"

"I'm sorry. For being an asshole," he said. "The last few days have been…really stressful. I've been taking it out on you, and you don't deserve that, so I'm sorry."

"Few days?" she asked skeptically.

"Couple of weeks."

"Well thank you, for saying sorry. And I'm sorry for being a bitch."

"I've given you all the reason in the world to be."

"Is there anyone other than Kurt you haven't been an ass to since you got here?"

"I've been an ass to him as well."

"Then you should apologize to him too."

"I will tomorrow," Blaine promised.

"Good, now let's put this behind us and have fun tonight."

"That sounds great, Quinn," Blaine said as he turned the radio on.

The rest of the drive passed quickly, with both of them singing along to the radio.

Blaine's father was waiting for him once they reached the hotel the event was held at.

"You're late," he said.

"Barely. This stupid thing never starts on time anyway," Blaine said.

"Behavior, Blaine," Richard reprimanded his son. Then he finally looked at Quinn. "And this is?"

"This Quinn Fabray, I go to school with her," Blaine said. "Quinn, meet my father, Richard Anderson."

"It's nice to meet you sir," the blonde cheerleader said as she shook the older man's outstretched hand.

"Likewise, miss Fabray," he replied. "Now, let's go. I have a speech to give."

The two teenagers followed him to the banquet hall and found their seats at one of the many tables. Blaine noticed that he was not only seated at his father's table, but none of his friends were seated near him. After a quick glance around the room, he noticed all of his friends had been separated.

He caught their eyes, and inconspicuously made their way out one of the side doors.

"I'll be right back," he told Quinn.

"Where are you going?" his father asked.

"The bathroom. Relax."

"Be quick."

He wasn't.

He met up with his fellow Warblers in a restroom near the hotel's bar.

"How've things been?" he asked them.

"Shit," Wes said. "The Warblers are on probation as a team, we've got a teacher sitting in on meetings and rehearsals."

"Who is it?" Blaine asked.

"Doctor Lowe," David said.

"Ouch."

"And we've all been put on lockdown. We're allowed to go to class and rehearsal. Other than the caf, no one can leave their dorm without a written note from a faculty member," the dark-skinned boy continued.

"I'm really sorry, guys."

"You should be. We've not only lost two of our strongest performers, but also any source of freedom. Technically speaking, I shouldn't be talking to you," Nick said. "The police may be stupid, but our parents and Dalton aren't. What happened?"

He looked at Jeff, stunned the blond boy hadn't come clean to his boyfriend.

"You remember Eli?" Blaine said carefully.

"The little bitch you and Sebastian were fucking around with at the end of last year?" David asked.

"Oh god," Nick said, looking pale.

"His brother confronted Jeff and I after we left the fight."

"And you thought beating them both was a good idea," Wes asked. Blaine got the distinct feeling that once he was left alone with his best friend, he would get the shit beat out of him.

"Not exactly," Blaine said.

"They saw something they shouldn't have, so we took care of it," Jeff said.

"Look, let's not fight about this. It could have been all of us arrested for something a lot worse than Jeff and I being arrested for assault. If it goes to trial, I'll take the fall." Turning to Nick, Blaine said, "I swear I won't let anything happen to Jeff. I'll do everything I can to make sure he can still walk away from this."

"I'll hold you too that, B." Nick said.

A few moments passed in silence before Jeff finally broke it. "Fuck! Anyone got some coke? There's no way I can make it through this night without some," he screamed.

The other four boys rushed to cover his mouth.

"Do you want us to fucking get caught?" Blaine growled.

"I had to break the tension somehow," he laughed.

Nick started laughing; Blaine rolled his eyes; David swore; and Wes produced a bag of cocaine. Just like that, things were back to normal.

"We better go before someone notices we're all missing," Wes said after he snorted a couple of lines off the counter.

The five boys parted, each finding a different way back to the banquet hall, with Blaine pocketing what was left. Wes told him to keep it, since he owed Blaine for some that got lost when they packed his room up at Dalton.

"You missed my speech," his father said when he reached the table.

"Sorry. There was a line," Blaine said. It was a terrible excuse, and they both knew it. Luckily, he wasn't called out on it.

The night continued in a haze. Once dinner was over, and periodically as he and Quinn (and the half a dozen girls his father pushed on him) danced, Blaine snuck away to do a few more lines.

"You know, I had a surprisingly good time," Quinn said softly when Blaine walked her to her front door at a quarter till midnight.

"I did too. Thank you for saving me from a night of misery."

The cheerio smiled at him. "Thank you for not being an asshole."

"You're welcome?"

"Good night, Blaine." She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before turning to open the door.

Before she could get the key in, Blaine grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. The second she was facing him, he pressed his lips to hers. She momentarily stilled before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back.

"Goodnight, Quinn," he said as he pulled away.

Sunday afternoon found Kurt and Blaine curled up on Blaine's bed, completely ignoring Kurt's homework and instead watching Disney movies on Blaine's laptop. The tutoring session lasted just twenty minutes before Kurt got to frustrated with the calculus homework to continue. It started with Blaine putting on Mulan, and it went from there. After that, they moved on to The Little Mermaid, then it was The Lion King, and now they were watching Tangled.

"Thank you, by the way," Kurt said while Rapunzel was having her hair braided.

"For what?"

"Making sure Quinn had fun."

"Thank you for convincing her to go with me," Blaine said.

Kurt looked at him curiously. "Why did you want her to go with you?"

"I know you've already talked to her, Kurt."

"Answer my question." It was taking everything in Kurt to keep a straight face.

"Yes, I like her, is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Are you going to date her?" Kurt said, the excitement was creeping into his voice.

"I don't know Kurt. Does she want to date me?"

Kurt giggled, and kicked Blaine. "Are you seriously asking that?"

"Don't kick me!"

"Why not?" Kurt said and kicked him again.

"Because I don't want you to." Blaine said.

A mischievous thought entered Kurt's mind, and he acted on impulse. He kicked the other boy again, a little harder though.

"What are you going to — aah!"

Without giving time to finish, Blaine grabbed his sides and began tickling the cheerio.

"Blaine!" Kurt shrieked trying to squirm away.

"Apologize," Blaine said holding on to him tighter.

"No!"

"Then I won't stop."

The movie had ended by the time Blaine stopped tickling Kurt. Both boys were red in the face and out of breath. At some point, Blaine moved so that he was straddling the cheerio. Their bodies were pressed close together, despite Kurt's hands pushing at Blaine's chest, trying to push the older boy off.

"We should study," Kurt said breathlessly.

"We should," Blaine agreed.

Neither boy made an attempt to move.

They stayed like that until Kurt noticed himself getting hard, then he pushed Blaine off. The dark haired boy fell on his side next to Kurt.

"You never answered me," Kurt said, trying to will his growing erection away.

"I didn't."

"Blaine."

"Yes, I like Quinn. Yes, I want to date her," Blaine said. "But she thinks I'm the biggest jackass on the planet."
"No she doesn't."

"And you know this how?"

"She wouldn't have kissed you if she hated you."

"How do you know…"

"She's my best friend, Blaine. She called me the second she got inside." Kurt said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course Quinn called someone and who else would she have called other than her best friend. Well, Kurt supposed she could have called Santana, but considering the circumstances, that wouldn't have been the classiest thing to do.

None of them kept secrets from each other; not Kurt, not Quinn, not Santana, and not Brittany. Other than Puck, none of the girls had been interested in the same boy before. Not that Puck counted since he had slept with every single female on the Cheerios.

"Ah."

"You don't spend a lot of time with girls do you?" Kurt asked.

"I went to an all boys school Kurt. I've had girlfriends, but all of this is so new to me."

"Well, I for one am all for you and Quinn dating. You'll make a cute couple."

"Thank you," Blaine said.

"You're welcome, but as her best friend, I have to warn you. Don't hurt her; I'll have to hurt you otherwise."

"Noted," Blaine said.

"Good," Kurt said. "Now, teach me calculus."

Later that night, once Kurt had returned home, he couldn't get that afternoon out of his head. Blaine was hot, there was no denying that. But he was straight, and he belonged to Quinn. Kurt had no chance, and he needed to get over whatever stupid crush was trying to develop.

Knowing and doing were two different things though. And no matter what Kurt did, he couldn't stop thoughts of that afternoon from playing over and over in his head. And thoughts of what could have happened if Kurt hadn't pushed him away.

Just before he fell asleep, he realized something. He hadn't been the only one happy with the position he and Blaine were in.