That summer is a long one. Blaine works at that cheesy as fuck theme park, even though his parents are actively disappointed in him, don’t ask him how his day went, and refuse to drive him to and from work. He has to ask Cooper if he can borrow his old car - the green station wagon he’d left behind when he’d first moved away. His father certainly won’t let him have the car they’d rebuilt together.

His parents wanted him to devote his summer hours to his long-neglected dressage and polo practice. To the French lessons he’d always hated. Maybe even to intern at his father’s firm. Nothing had sounded worse.

It is, perhaps, the first time he’s really said no to his parents. The thin press of his mother’s lips and the clench of his father’s jaw tell him just what they think of that. But it feels good, to say no, to make a choice for himself. It makes him stand taller, helps him breathe easier than he has in a long time.

When he’s not working at the park, and Kurt’s not helping at Burt’s shop, they spend long, warm, lazy days together. Sometimes the nights too, when Burt is feeling magnanimous and lets him sleep on the couch in his living room. Blaine feels at home with the Hummel-Hudsons, feels comfortable in their house and at their dinner table. It’s close to the way he feels when it’s just him and his brother in Cooper’s apartment, watching old movies and eating more junk food than is generally good for them.

They even go camping one weekend with Burt, Carole, and Finn, out to Grand Lake State Park. It’s just far enough away from Lima to feel like they’ve really gone somewhere, but not so far that it’s a problem when Finn realizes he forgot to pack swim trunks halfway there.

Kurt and Blaine have to share a tent with Finn, but after Burt and Carole retire to a second tent, and Carole kisses their foreheads goodnight, they push their sleeping bags close together and share breath. Finn just grumbles and turns his back to them.

Blaine loves the afternoons they’re rained-in during a thunderstorm. When it’s just the two of them alone in Burt’s house. He’s been around long enough now that Burt is beginning to trust him, trust them to respect the rules of the house. They do – mostly. Sometimes they watch a movie, sometimes they read together on the sofa, leaning against opposite armrests, feet tangled in the middle.

It’s different, now - now that they are what they are. Kurt will suddenly glance up from his book or magazine and look at him with those bright eyes, so full of wonder and amazement, like he can’t believe Blaine is there, that it’s all real, that he’s not making it up this time.

When that happens, when the very heart of him is pulled from Blaine by the heat and love in those eyes, he has to set aside his own book and slide across the sofa and hold himself over Kurt. They don’t get to do this often, not with work and class and the constant presence of other people, but when they do, when there’s time, it takes Blaine’s breath away.

He spends long moments with his hands and lips on Kurt, reverently touching what skin Kurt will show. The thin skin inside his elbows. The solid curve of his collarbone. His lightly-haired inner thighs. (It’s the middle of summer and even Kurt Hummel owns shorts.)

Blaine spends what time he can memorizing the sight and feel of that skin, exquisitely smooth, firm yet yielding under his touch. So very warm. Each time he saves the memory for later, when’s he alone and can’t stand it anymore. He tries to pretend the grip of his own palm is Kurt’s, but his fingertips are rougher and when he dares to look down his hand is darker than Kurt’s.

It’s all part of why he can’t say no when Kurt asks him to transfer to McKinley. At this point Blaine doesn’t think he can refuse Kurt anything.

Blaine knew he’d transfer the first time Kurt asked him, sitting in Cooper’s old car in the Anderson driveway after a date early in the summer. Kurt’s eyes had been huge and luminous in the dim light.

Come to McKinley he’d said, with a mischievous little quirk to his mouth that Blaine had kissed away.

He put off giving Kurt his answer because of his parents. Of course there are the Warblers to think about it - his friends and confidants for the last year. They’re the ones who took him in when he was lost, and fixed him when he was broken. But they will still be his friends even if he’s not in school with them, even if he’s competing against them. They’ll have weekends and school breaks. It’ll be fine.

But his parents. Blaine knows what their answer is going to be and it isn’t an answer he’s going to accept.

He waits until the very end of the summer to tell them. He’s already filled out all the paperwork, already explained to the Dean that although Dalton is a wonderful school he’s proud to have been a student at, and that it was everything he needed after what happened at his old school, it’s time for him to follow his heart. And isn’t that what growing up is all about?

Blaine finds his parents in the dining room. His father has paperwork spread out in front of him and his mother is flipping through a fashion magazine. He wonders why they’re in here when the dining room is generally reserved for dinner parties, and why they’re in here together. His father usually works in his study and his mother spends most of her time at the house in the parlor.

It feels like they’re waiting for him, actually. It makes cold sweat break out all down his back and his palms are suddenly clammy against the transfer consent forms in his hands.

He clears his throat to announce his presence and waits until they acknowledge him. He hates how he already feels like he’s on trial.

“Blaine,” his father says, barely sparing him a glance.

“I’m transferring,” Blaine announces and he’s grateful his voice doesn’t break, even if it doesn’t come out as strongly as he’d like. He can do this. He has to.

“Out of Dalton. I’m going to McKinley.”

That gets his parents’ attention. His father’s eyes are a dark, stormy gray when they lock onto his. His jaw is clenched so tight it makes Blaine’s teeth ache. His mother just looks disappointed. The corners of her mouth are turned down and her fingers are laced together on her lap.

“You most certainly are not.” His father is using the voice that says my word is final do not argue with me and he pushes his paperwork into a neat pile before folding his hands on top of it.

Blaine’s throat is so very dry and he swallows a few times, trying to bring spit to his mouth.

“I am. I’ve already spoken to the Dean. He understands.”

“You’re a minor. You need our consent.”

“I know.”

And this is the crux of the matter. He can want to leave Dalton until he’s blue in the face but he can’t just walk out of the gates, not when he’s only sixteen. Blaine sets the papers down on the table and pushes them towards his parents. His mother’s eyes flicker down to them, but she says nothing.

The silence fills the room, thick and choking. Blaine’s knees start to shake and he locks them. He’s not going to show weakness if he can help it. He desperately wishes Cooper were here to stand next to him, to help hold him up.

“Please,” Blaine says finally. “I want this. I need to do this.”

His father stands slowly. He’s taller than Blaine will be, but in that moment Blaine is glad he takes after his mother. Her eyes are never as hard as his father’s are, even if she’s not everything he wants in a mother.

“If you leave that school for that, that boy we’re done. You are out of this house.”

Blaine sways on his feet as the world grays around the edges. Blood rushes in his ears. He’d known his parents wouldn’t approve of his decision, that they’d be angry and disappointed. He figured he’d be grounded for at least three months. He never thought it would come to this.

“Dad,” Blaine grips the back of one of the chair. His knuckles are white. So is his face. “Please.”

“You made your decision, and we’ve made ours.” His father reaches across the table and pulls the transfer papers towards him. He has a pen, silver and heavy, in his hand before Blaine can blink.

“Are you standing by your decision?”

Blaine is gripping the chair so tightly it hurts all the way to his shoulders. “I am.” It comes out a whisper.

The papers are signed in an instant. His father pushes his chair in and touches his mother’s shoulder. She too stands.

“We’ll give you a few hours to gather your things.” And then they’re gone, leaving nothing behind but the click of his mother’s shoes against the hardwood and his father’s cologne in the air.

Blaine stands helplessly in the dining room for a long minute, staring sightlessly at the forms, before making his way to his bedroom. He doesn’t remember getting there, only that now he’s sitting on a half-packed suitcase, hot tears pouring down his face. He doesn’t remember calling Cooper.

“Hey Blaine, what’s up man?”

Blaine’s throat works soundlessly for a moment, too stopped up with tears to form words.

“Blaine? Are you ok?”

“Coop,” he finally sobs out. “Can you come get me? I’m at…I’m at h- at mom and dad’s. Can you come?”

“God, yes of course, Blaine. What’s going on?”

“Please, just come.”

It takes about half an hour to get from Columbus to Westerville. Cooper makes it in twenty. His father’s car is absent from the long driveway, but the front door is unlocked.

Cooper’s heart drops to his soles when sees Blaine sitting on a suitcase, hunched over his thighs, completely broken.

“Blaine.” He falls to his knees next to Blaine and grasps his shoulder. His brother immediately turns into him, pressing his face - hot and wet - to his neck. Harsh, ugly, soul-deep, heart wrenching sobs wrack his body and Cooper wraps his arms around Blaine, holding him tight, holding him together.

Cooper doesn’t know how long they stay there, but eventually Blaine quiets and his body sags into Cooper’s hold. His shirt is wet with tears and snot and he does not give a fuck.

“Blainers, what happened?” He runs a soothing hand through Blaine’s hair, which is damp with nervous sweat.

“They kicked me out. I told them I wanted to transfer to McKinley, to be with Kurt, and they kicked me out.” Blaine hiccups. “They kicked me out.” The pain, the betrayal, the hurt in his voice lances Cooper to his very core.

He has so much he wants to say to Blaine about their parents, but none of it would do any good right now. Instead he stands and pulls Blaine to his feet with him. His brother looks awful – face red, eyes bloodshot, lips swollen. He must feel worse.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says. It’s the only thing that makes sense in that moment.

“Cooper.”

“This isn’t a suggestion. Let’s get you packed up. We don’t need the furniture or anything. Just get all your clothes. I’ll get your stuff from the bathroom. We’ll steal some boxes from the basement or something. Come on.”

“Cooper, I,”

“Blaine, shut up. You’re coming home with me.” He grabs Blaine by the shoulders again and forces him to look into his eyes. “Ok? It’ll be a long drive to get you to school for a few weeks, but we’ll manage it until I find a new place in Lima.”

Blaine is so utterly overwhelmed he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He rubs his hands across his damp face. He feels sticky and disgusting.

“You keep moving for me. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m doing it. For you. For me. For us. You’re my baby brother – it’s my job to help you, to protect you. And I haven’t done that. Not like I should have.” Cooper pulls Blaine in and kisses his forehead. He’ll make this up to Blaine somehow.

“I’m doing it now. You are my only brother, and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Cooper smiles a little. “Ok, let’s get out of here.” And let’s not ever look back.

It doesn’t take long for them to get Blaine’s things put away in the guest room of Cooper’s apartment. They don’t really unpack. There’s no point when Cooper is going to start looking for a place near Lima first thing tomorrow. He’s absurdly grateful for his trust fund.

Blaine is putting some clothes in the closet when Cooper comes back into the room. He’s got something in his hands and secret little smile on his face.

“I think you should have this back.” Cooper holds out his hand and Blaine old bright pink bowtie rests on his palm. Blaine is struck speechless.

“Here,” Cooper says, but Blaine shakes his head, not taking it.

“No, I gave that to you.” He touches his fingertips to the soft cloth. He can’t believe Cooper still has it, but he does believe it; Blaine wears the pocket watch every day. “It was supposed to be something to remember me by.”

Cooper smiles. He carefully loops the bowtie around Blaine’s neck. “I don’t need anything to remember you by. I’ve got you here now. Right where you belong.”

There are tears in Blaine’s eyes again, but he’s finally smiling.

“Come on.” Cooper takes Blaine’s hand and pulls him to the living room. He pushes him onto the sofa and sits down right next to him, so close their shoulders press tight together. Cooper throws a blanket over the both of them, even though it’s warm enough in his apartment.

They watch An Affair to Remember because Blaine loves Cary Grant, even though Cooper kind of hates it. He even leaves the movie playing when Blaine falls asleep fifteen minutes into it, his head pillowed on Cooper’s shoulder.