Cooper never expected Blaine’s transfer to McKinley to be easy, even with Kurt there as a buffer and a lifeline. Blaine had spent his whole life sheltered in private school, with the exception of half-a-year stoically suffering insults and graffiti and spit wads to the back of the head until it escalated to the unimaginable.

He knew McKinley was going to be a challenge, that things weren’t necessarily going to come easily to him, that he was going to have to work for things in way he hadn’t had to before. But Cooper never imagined that some of the biggest hardships were going to come from the very group Blaine was struggling to become a part of. McKinley wasn’t Dalton, and bullying would come, even if from the most unlikely of places.

Cooper didn’t think it’d be Kurt’s own brother who would tear Blaine down so completely.

Blaine never said much about it, not to him. But Cooper could see it in the droop of his shoulders, the confusion in his eyes when he came home after Glee club. And when the issue of trying out for the same part of the musical had come up, on top of everything, Cooper had heard the distinct sound of a heavy book colliding with a wall.

It had never developed into a full-blown argument, in fact Cooper can’t think of a time when Kurt and Blaine had ever really truly argued, but Cooper had still been relieved to come home to find Blaine and Kurt running lines in the living room, feet tangled on the sofa, easy smiles back on their faces.

It’s opening night and the auditorium is packed and thrumming with anticipatory energy. Cooper sees Burt and Carole Hummel-Hudson enter and find a few empty seats. He thinks about going to join them, but the seats around them suddenly fill. He’ll say hi after the show. They’re not incredibly close, not yet, but they’re getting closer. He and Burt have already watched a Buckeye’s game together. And Carole gives him fond looks and pats his arm whenever she sees him.

Cooper spots a clump of boys off to the side dressed in navy blazers with red piping. Dalton boys. They look familiar and completely anonymous at the same time. They are all at once every boy he ever went to school with and none of them at all. Although the tall, thin one with the shocking sweep of blonde hair looks far too much like someone in his year to not be a younger brother, or a cousin at least.

Cooper looks around at the rest of the crowd. People are settling into their seats, waving hello to acquaintances, shifting coats and rustling the programs in nervous hands. It’s full to capacity with friends and family, all there to celebrate the accomplishments of loved ones. Next to him should be his parents. They are not there. He doesn’t even know where they are tonight. Blaine had brought him one ticket to the show and no more.

Despite the toll it’s taken on his bank account (well, his trust fund) and his educational progress, Cooper will never, ever regret transferring out of Columbia and into OSU. He will never regret driving to his parents house on an unseasonably warm, humid night and taking Blaine out of there.

When the house lights dim and the curtain rises, Cooper stomach clenches. He can’t keep the smile off his face whenever Blaine is on stage. It’s so different than his performances and competitions with the Warblers. No better, just different. He plays off the rest of the cast so well. He can tell from his seat how much his brother loves this.

He’s glad Blaine finally gets to do this, to express this part of his creative life. Blaine hadn’t been allowed to join the drama club at his first high school in Westerville. It was a big enough battle to convince his parents to let him try a public school in the first place.

Blaine had spent the whole of eighth grade begging and pleading to be allowed to go to a public school instead of following Anderson family tradition and shipping off to Dalton Academy. There had even been graphs and flowcharts drawn in Blaine’s thick script. In the end it was their mother who’d convinced their father to let Blaine try it.

The fact that he’d been bashed and forced to transfer to Dalton, where their parents had wanted him in the first place, and only proved his parents’ point. I told you so and this could have been avoided if you’d just done what we asked hung thick and tangible around the house for months.

Dalton didn’t have a drama department, and besides, Blaine kept more than busy with the Warblers, with fencing, with the classes themselves. Cooper remembers what the academics were like; he was a Dalton boy too, once.

When the show ends Cooper jumps to his feet with the rest of the audience, clapping and whooping his approval. He would come to this show every night for the next two weeks if he didn’t have papers to grade. He’s certainly coming to the finale show, and any night he can spare.

It takes a while after the curtain drops for the cast to start emerging from backstage. Blaine comes around the corner, sweat shining on his forehead and faced flushed. He spots Cooper immediately and his face lights up. Blaine fairly jumps off the stage and jogs to him.

Cooper folds Blaine up into a hug, bodily lifting him off the ground and actually spinning him around. He doesn’t care that he’s probably embarrassing his teenage brother in front of his classmates.

“Oh my god Blainers that was so good.”

Underneath his flush of exertion and adrenaline, Blaine pinks with embarrassment and pleasure. “You have to say that; you’re my brother.”

Cooper pinches Blaine’s upper arm, causing Blaine to yelp and slap his hand away. “Learn to take a compliment.”

“Pest,” Blaine mutters. He rubs at his arm and shyly squints up at Cooper. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

Cooper rolls his eyes and resists the urge to hit him again. His brother works hard to exude confidence and finesse in everything he does, but he’s still just a boy who needs and craves approval. Especially that of the only parental figure he’s got left.

“It really was, B.” Cooper puts his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and forces him to look him dead in his eyes. He sees the hope and the apprehension there. You were wonderful. And I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Blaine swallows so thickly it hurts, but he’s smiling. “I love you, Coop.”

“Love you too, Blainers.”

From somewhere near them a bark of laughter rings out across the auditorium and it snaps Blaine’s spine straight. His eyes dart quickly to something past Cooper’s shoulder and linger there, smile falling from his lips.

Cooper turns to follow Blaine’s gaze over to where Kurt is standing halfway down one of the rows of seats, still in his Officer Krupke costume, talking to his father and stepmother. Burt has an arm thrown around Kurt’s shoulders and they’re both laughing at something Carole is saying.

The love and pride and joy on Burt’s face, and Carole’s, are obvious even from a distance.

Cooper doesn’t miss the longing and the sadness clouding Blaine’s eyes that have nothing to do with Kurt. He can hate their father as much as he wants, but it doesn’t help. Blaine’s expression falls even more when his eyes flicker from Burt back to Kurt, who is blushing and grinning as Carole pats him on the cheek.

“You haven’t talked to him yet?” Cooper asks. He’s actually surprised. He’d seen his old car back in the driveway and assumed that Kurt had brought it over, and that he and Blaine had worked out what had happened that night after the bar.

Blaine at least has the decency to blush in embarrassment, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Kurt.

“I, we. We’ve talked. Sort of,” Blaine folds his arms protectively across his chest. “Just not about that.”

Cooper rolls his eyes and resists smacking his brother upside his head. “Blaine Miles Anderson get your stupid ass over there and talk to your boyfriend.”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Stop being an idiot. Of course he wants to talk to you. You didn’t see him standing off to the side during One Hand, One Heart, but I did. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, not for one moment. He was so proud of you.”

Blaine closes his eyes against the wave of emotion.

“Coop,”

“I’m being serious here. Stop being stubborn about this.”

Blaine licks his lips. “Artie’s throwing an after-party at Breadstix, for the cast and crew. We’re supposed to go. We should go.”

“Then ask him to go with you. He’s already yours, Blaine.”

“But,”

Cooper cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Go on, get changed. Clean up.”

Blaine still looks indecisive. “Will you…will you tell him? That I haven’t left or anything. That I’m still here, waiting for him?”

“Of course. Go.”

“Don’t let him leave.”

“Blaine, go.”

Cooper watches as Blaine slips out of the auditorium, heading backstage, undoubtedly to change out of his sweaty costume and scrub his face clean of the heavy stage make-up. He shakes his head fondly before heading over to the Hummel-Hudson clan.

Kurt looks up at him when he approaches. He seems wary and nervous. Cooper smiles at him in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. It apparently works, at least a little, because a tiny smile curves Kurt’s mouth and the worry line fades from his forehead.

“Burt, Carole,” Cooper greets them with a broad smile as he shakes their hands. “Good to see you both again. Congratulations, Kurt. You all did so wonderfully. It was really amazing”

“Thanks, Cooper.”

“And Blaine was fantastic,” Carole gushes, reaching out to pat his forearm. “You’ve got quite the brother there.”

“Don’t I just?” Cooper turns his attention to Kurt. “Blaine wanted me to tell you that he wants to talk to you before you go.”

Kurt swallows and nods his head. “Oh, I, yes of course. Is he, did he say,” Kurt doesn’t seem to know what he wants to ask. Save me from teenage boys in love Cooper thinks.

Cooper smiles. “He went to change. He’s waiting though.” Go get him.

Kurt bites his lip and turns to his dad and Carole. “I’m gonna, uhm,”

Burt shakes his head. Carole is grinning. “Go on, kid. We won’t wait up.”

“Don’t worry, Burt,” Cooper says. “I’ll keep an eye on the boys. I’ve got plenty of chores for them after the last time they left magazines clippings and hot glue all over my kitchen.”

Kurt hugs his dad and Carole, and then he hugs Cooper. “Thank you,” he whispers in Cooper’s ear before turning and heading down the long stairway towards the stage.

Cooper watches as he disappears backstage. “They’re good boys,” he says to Burt and Carole, who simply nod their agreement. Together the three of them leave the auditorium and head for the respective cars.

Not long later Cooper is in his kitchen, staring at the odd combination of Thai take-out boxes and fresh fruits and vegetables that make up the current contents of his refrigerator, when he hears the front door open and then gently close a few seconds later.

He glances at the clock on the wall and thinks there’s no way Blaine is home from that ridiculous Breadstix this early. He hopes Blaine didn’t somehow manage to fuck things up with Kurt even more. He loves his brother to bits, but the kid can be so goddamn dense sometimes, perhaps most especially when it comes to Kurt.

There’s a soft padding of feet in the hallway and Cooper perks when he catches the distinct shuffle of two sets of footsteps. So maybe Blaine said the right thing after all. Blaine knows it’s okay for him to bring Kurt over whenever, even when Cooper’s not home.

Cooper grabs an apple from the fridge, and damn if he isn’t glad that Blaine takes Kurt grocery shopping with him these days – his diet has definitely improved – and tiptoes to the kitchen entryway to see what’s going on.

Blaine and Kurt are still in the dim hallway and they haven’t made it far from the door at all. Kurt has Blaine backed into the wall, one hand cupped softly around Blaine’s jaw, tilting his mouth up to his, the other under his open jacket, splayed across his waist.

Cooper watches, apple frozen between his teeth, as one of Blaine’s hand slips around Kurt’s back, fisting into his coat, while the other clutches tight to the back of his head, fingers in his hair, holding Kurt in place.

It’s weird to his see his brother like this, caught up tight in someone’s loving embrace. He’s seen Kurt and Blaine kiss before, of course he has. The number of times he’s come home to the two of them tangled on the living room couch, or heard quiet moans coming from behind Blaine’s closed bedroom door is getting ridiculous.

But sometimes Cooper still sees Blaine as a little kid in a too-big bowtie and wild hair, sitting on a piano bench and swinging his little legs back and forth while he mimics the notes Cooper taps out for him.

Here is the proof though, that his brother is growing up. Cooper is relieved that Blaine has someone his age to grow up with, to learn to love with.

Cooper backs into the kitchen on quiet feet, not wanting to startle them out of this, not when he knows what they’ve been through to get here. He tries not to listen at the rustle of fabric and soft murmuring that seems to echo through the otherwise silent house.

There’s movement in the hallway again, and Cooper grins when he hears the creak of the floorboards on the finicky fourth step of the staircase that leads to the second floor. He waits until he can no longer hear footsteps coming from above before he grabs some of the leftover Thai and throws it in the microwave.

He’ll eat his bachelor dinner and turn the TV on, loud enough to drown out any noises he doesn’t think he wants to hear, but not so loud that the boys upstairs will be disturbed. They’re going to be embarrassed enough in the morning when they come downstairs and discover the congratulatory pancakes Cooper is going to make for them.