There’s a fine line he tries to walk with his involvement in Kurt and Blaine’s relationship. He’s taken on the role as Blaine’s guardian, even if it’s not legal, and that means he’s responsible for Blaine. It’s his duty, now more than ever, to guide Blaine along, to help him when he asks for it and protect him when he doesn’t know he needs it. Really, it’s always been his job as the older brother and it’s one he gladly, willingly performs.

But even as the responsible adult in the house, he’s not going to be the wet blanket who says they can’t enjoy their limited time together. They’re young, they’re in love, and they’ve been good, respectful, responsible boys. Maybe too responsible, if Cooper’s being perfectly honest.

They’ve taken it slow enough as far as he’s concerned. He remembers what it’s like to be so enamored, so besotted with someone that you can’t take your eyes, hands, and lips off them. He’s not going to be the one to deny Blaine that, not when it makes him happier than Cooper has seen him in years, since before Dalton.

And it warms him deep in his heart when Blaine comes home from a date with Kurt, flushed and rumpled and grinning so broadly his face must hurt. He knows that look and is so glad to be able to see it on his baby brother’s face, especially after everything that’s happened to him.

He hasn’t given Blaine an official curfew, but he comes home early enough. He’s a responsible young man. He gets to school ten minutes early every morning. He does his homework without being asked; he keeps his 4.0 grade point average. When Cooper has to work late Blaine has dinner waiting for him - the pots and pans already scrubbed clean and drying on the counter.

He is an Anderson, even out of his parents’ house. Punctuality. Respect. Obedience. These are things that were drilled into him, into both of them, from day one. They are not lessons easily forgotten.

So maybe Cooper gives Kurt and Blaine a little more leeway than someone else would. They’ve earned it.

That night he sends Blaine off with a wave and a cheeky little have fun with your boy. It’s a weekend and he doesn’t expect Blaine back, with or without Kurt, until late. He’s certainly not going to wait up.

It’s getting on 2am when a pounding on the front door pulls Cooper from his sleep. It can’t be Blaine, because Blaine has his own keys and is good about slipping into the house without waking him and he rarely comes home this late anyway. He’s probably already in bed down the hall.

Cooper opens the door, ready to verbally bitch-slap whoever is on the other side.

It’s Blaine.

And Cooper can smell the alcohol on him from the doorway. If there’s anything he doesn’t want Blaine doing, it’s being stupid with alcohol.

“Jesus Blaine, you’ve been drinking? Do you even know what time it is? What are-” His admonitions are cut short when he really looks at Blaine.

His clothing is askew, bowtie hanging limply from one hand, and he’s swaying unsteadily on his feet. There are dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and fresh tears clumping his lashes. He looks utterly miserable, inexplicably broken. It stops Cooper’s heart.

“Blaine. What happened? Are you OK?”

Blaine takes a shuddering breath. His eyes can’t seem to focus on anything. He’s grasping at the bowtie like it’s the only thing holding him together.

“Coop. I think I fucked up,” he says in a voice thick with just barely checked emotion. “I think I just ruined everything.”

Cooper reaches out to grasp Blaine by the shoulder, and the touch breaks something inside of Blaine. He crumples, right there on the front stoop of Cooper’s, of their house.

“Blaine!” Cooper yells in shock, and he catches Blaine just before he hits the ground, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother’s trembling body. He drags Blaine inside, struggling a bit against his dead weight, and together they slide to the floor. The wood of the front door is solid and cool against his back.

He cradles Blaine to his chest as his brother sobs, body shaking with the force of it. He smells of beer and sweat; stale smoke and the crisp night air.

Cooper waits it out, rubbing a strong hand up and down Blaine’s trembling back while he clasps the back of Blaine’s head firmly with the other. He thinks about the last time he held Blaine like this - when their parents kicked him out of the house for wanting to do something different with his life. When their parents disowned him for wanting to be his own person. He hopes things aren’t always like this for Blaine, but he knows he can’t promise that.

He’s not sure how long they sit there; long enough that his left foot goes numb from the way Blaine is draped awkwardly over him; long enough that his ass hurts from the hardwood floor of his entryway. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t stop holding Blaine, humming snippets of Pachelbel’s Canon in C into his hair, until Blaine shifts a little in his arms.

“I can’t seem to stop crying on you,” Blaine finally mutters into the collar of Cooper’s shirt. He sounds scratchy and raw.

“Shut up,” Cooper says. He squeezes the back of Blaine’s neck a little. “Are you ready to tell me what the hell happened?”

Blaine nods, but he’s still not pulling back from Cooper arms.

“Can you get up?”

“I’m drunk, not an invalid,” Blaine says, and there’s a waspish snap to his voice that Cooper recognizes all too clearly.

“And that’s something you and I are going to talk about later,” Cooper hauls Blaine to his feet and steadies him when he sways a little. “Come on.”

Cooper pulls Blaine into the kitchen and sits him down at the little breakfast table. Blaine slumps in the chair, resting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. Cooper busy himself with making hot chocolate for the both of them. It’s familiar and comforting and it’s helping to calm his own shaking hands. He doesn’t know what happened tonight, but he knows it can’t be good. He hopes this isn’t the night he fails as an older brother.

He sets the steaming mug down in front of Blaine, who smiles ever so slightly at the heaping pile of marshmallows on top and wraps his hands around it.

“You always did give me extra marshmallows,” he says, continuing to stare down at the mug.

Cooper sit down across from him. “Well you wouldn’t stop whining until I did.”

Blaine just snorts a little.

“All right. Start talking. Tell me why you showed up at 2am and had to knock to be let in.”

“Kurt has my keys. He has the car. I walked. He was going to drive us back because, because I -” Blaine swallows. “Because I drank too much.”

Cooper wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to interrupt. The time for a talk about responsible drinking is not now.

“We went to this club. Sebastian, he got us in. And we were dancing and drinking, well I was. Kurt wasn’t. And god, Coop, it was so much fun. He was so happy and we were dancing and everyone was gay and it didn’t matter how close we got, that we were touching. We could just be us for a few hours. In public. And it was wonderful and safe and I ruined it. I ruined it.” Blaine pauses and Cooper holds his breath as a few fresh tears slide down his cheeks.

“We were leaving and he had my keys. And then I, I pushed. I pushed too far. God I was so fucking foolish. And then I left. I walked home.”

“What do you mean you pushed too far?” Cooper loves his brother, but if he’s done something irreparable, he’s going to kill him.

“I, we...we haven’t, you know,” and Blaine flushes all the way to his ears. Any other time Cooper would tease him mercilessly.

“But I want to. God I want to. So badly. He’s so. I just - I love him. And I want him. And I need him. But I don’t know how to tell him that, how to show him. And we were getting into the car and he was right there, so close, and he looked so good and I just, I went for it. I told him we should just do it right there in the car. He looked so hurt, he was so hurt. And I did that to him.” Blaine lets go of the mug and covers his face with his hands. His shoulders hitch as the tears come hot and fast again.

Cooper sits back. He tries to imagine his brother losing control and can’t. He knows Blaine has a temper; that he can be snappish and snarky, but he hides it so well beneath his forced gentlemanly facade that sometimes Cooper forgets. He forgets that Blaine wants things he can’t have, or thinks he can’t have, and that unnameable, uncontrollable urges rise up and push past his defenses. He needs Blaine to know that it’s OK.

“Blaine,” he starts. “Let me tell you something, and maybe this is going to be the most embarrassing conversation we’ll ever have, but it is what is it.” Cooper takes a deep breath and mentally cracks his neck. He can do this, for Blaine.

“Kurt loves you, ok? He’s going to understand what happened. He knows that you were drunk and that drunk boys are stupid boys. He knows this. You haven’t ruined anything. And he wants you too. He does. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. Don’t think I haven’t seen the hickeys you two leave on each other.”

Blaine doesn’t smile at his attempted joke, but the tears have stopped and he wipes pitifully at the snotty mess of his face.

“The right time for you two will happen. I promise. You guys are solid. This is just one moment among the thousands you two are going to have. So what that it’s a bad one? They happen. Those moments are part of every relationship.”

“I should call him. Call him right now. Tell him. Try to explain. Apologize.” Blaine starts to dig into his pockets, pulling out his cellphone, but his fingers are slow and uncooperative and Cooper reaches across the table to grab the phone from him.

“No you are not. Not tonight. Not like this. You don’t want to add drunk-dialing to your list of offenses.”

“Cooper,”

He gets up from the table and pulls Blaine away from his untouched hot chocolate. “Come on, Blainers. Let’s get you to bed. You’re going to feel awful in the morning.”

“I feel awful now.”

“As well you should,” Cooper gets Blaine to his bedroom and throws his pajamas at him. “Drunk or not baby brother, the time for me helping you change your clothes has passed.”

Blaine rolls his eyes as he struggles out of his shirt, but the movement sends the room spinning a little and he sways. Cooper grabs him by the arm and guides him down onto the bed.

“Ok, fine,” Cooper grumbles, but he helps Blaine into his fussy pajamas and gets him under the covers.

“I can’t believe you’re tucking me in,” Blaine mutters, his eyes already falling shut. Cooper pats him fondly on the head before getting up and turning out the lights. He'll grab Blaine a glass of water and leave some Tylenol on the nightstand - Blaine will want both of those things.

They’ll talk more in the morning, when Blaine is sober and clearer-headed than he is now. And Cooper will make him pancakes and a lot of coffee and help him figure out just what to say to Kurt to make this right. But that’s for the morning.

“That’s what big brothers are for,” he says. “Goodnight, Blainers.”

Blaine is already asleep.