The next few days flew by in a flurry of activity. Dionysus and Ariadne had invited Kurt to accompany them to their various engagements with Blaine, Ariadne citing that since they were future consorts, “it was only natural”. Dionysus agreed, his reason being “Blaine will be less annoying with you there.” Burt reluctantly allowed him to go with the Greek family, apparently the two gods were able to inspire enough trust and confidence in the mortal man that he felt comfortable with Kurt joining them. Therefore, the teen spent the rest of week mostly in Columbus attending various appointments with Blaine—meeting with their realtor so Blaine could purchase his new luxury condo, touring the OSU campus, shopping with Ariadne while Blaine was at orientation, going to pick out a car. The teen smiled to himself at the memory.

Kurt noticed Blaine’s face fall as they pulled into the car dealership.

“BMW?” the former god had demanded irately, “What am I, middle-aged?”

“Blaine, now that you’re a mortal maybe it’s worthwhile to be a little more discreet,” Ariadne tried to negotiate.

“No, no, Ariadne, it’s fine” Dionysus said and turned his attention to the front of the limo, “Driver? We’re leaving, can you take us to the used car lot we passed on the way in?”

“Don,” Ariadne warned.

“What? He doesn’t want to buy a car here,” the Olympian shrugged indifferently.

Blaine, on the other hand, was turning red with rage. “Fuck this and fuck you! You won’t let me bring any of my cars—“

“—because how many college-aged mortals in Ohio drive vintage sports cars and Aston Martins, Blaine?” Dionysus challenged him. “Be reasonable for once in your life!”

“I am perfectly reasonable,” he argued.

“Don’t make me laugh, boy,” Dionysus countered. “You’re—“

“Blaine,” Ariadne interrupted her husband, her voice was firm, but it lacked any malice. She knew all too well where this argument was going and decided to intervene before her husband had a chance to rupture any fault lines. “Dear, just consider this for a moment, okay? You’re going to need a more practical car here in Ohio to blend in as a mortal like your father has said, but also for safety purposes. Those old convertibles you like to drive aren’t very the most secure vehicles and seeing you’ll be driving Kurt around frequently, doesn’t it make sense to buy something a little more subdued? For Kurt’s sake?”

The mortal in question gave Blaine his biggest doe eyes and sweetest smile in an attempt to seal the deal.

Blaine was silent for a moment, stewing in his own ire, before he capitulated to his step-mother’s logic. “You’re right, Step-Mother, I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, dear,” she told him, all the kindness in her voice restored. “This is simply part of adjusting to mortal life. Now let’s go pick out a car.”

The limo dropped the four of them off at the entrance of the dealership. Kurt hung back though to whisper to Ariadne as they entered the building, “How do you do that?”

The goddess chuckled. “Years and years of experience. I also exploit the fact that they can’t talk back to me.”

“You’re my hero,” Kurt told her sincerely.

“Thank you sweetie,” she replied fondly. “I have no doubt you’ll learn how to do it too. I mean, you already have Blaine wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger, that’s half the battle.”

Kurt blushed. Yet before he could respond, the pair could hear that Blaine and his father were already arguing once more.

“Excuse me,” she said heaving a sigh. “I swear, they’re like a pair of overgrown toddlers, the two of them!”

The teen couldn’t resist a laugh at the goddess’s words, he had to admit that it was pretty entertaining to see Ariadne, usually so cheerful and composed, flustered. After the goddess had mediated whatever quarrel had cropped up, Kurt heard Blaine call his name.

“Hm?” he replied.

“Will you help me pick out my old man car?” he inquired.

Kurt laughed and rolled his eyes, “If I must.”

They’d decided on sleek, black M6 Coupe, sporty enough for Blaine and understated enough for Dionysus. Much like when Blaine had signed the paperwork for his condo, Kurt had to keep his jaw from dropping at the mention of the car’s final sum whilst he sat with his lover in the dealership’s office. Even after the extravagance of the summer, it was still difficult for Kurt to adjust and be comfortable with anyone, let alone Blaine, dropping hundreds of thousands of dollars on cars and homes without batting an eyelash.

The teen really couldn’t judge though, take today for instance. Blaine had some additional business to take care of on campus, so he’d dropped Kurt off at Restoration Hardware with his black American Express card, a mandate to buy “whatever you want for the condo”, and a kiss goodbye. Needless to say, Kurt may have been racking up some five-figure totals of his own over the past few hours.  

Blaine, finished with an excruciatingly tedious and regrettably mandatory orientation session on campus safety and student conduct, found Kurt quizzically appraising a set of throw pillows when he came to collect his flawless consort-to-be. The man speedily scanned the section of the store to make sure there wasn’t anyone around (he knew how self-conscious Kurt was about PDA in his home state) and then slid in behind his boyfriend, pressing the front of his body against the back of Kurt’s and nuzzling his neck.

Kurt startled, but relaxed just as quickly as he’d tensed when he realized who was behind him.

“Oh! Blaine, thank goodness you’re here! I need your opinion,” he slithered out of the Greek’s grip and continued, “I don’t know if I should get grey or charcoal. Now, I’m going for a modern theme which I’ve titled ‘Urban Aesthete’, but I want the space to still have a homey feel to it, you know? I mean, the grey is more obviously versatile while the charcoal really makes a statement and—“

“I say we pay for whatever you’ve gotten so far and go back to the hotel,” Blaine said over Kurt’s musings with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Kurt regarded his boyfriend with a pout. Another substantial part of the past days had been filled with creating fictitious meetings for Kurt to tell his dad about so he and Blaine could fuck at his hotel without any interruptions. And though the sex had been glorious (especially since Blaine had made good on his promise to rim Kurt for literally hours), the teen was riding too much of a retail high to quit now. “But I’m not finished.”

“Oh come on, baby,” the older man whined. “Can’t we just hire an interior designer and be done with it?”

Kurt’s gaze turned into a murderous glare in the course of split second, his mouth settling into a tightly drawn line. “What did you just say?”

“I said…” Blaine paled and immediately backpedaled, “…I said let’s keep shopping, honey.”

He flashed Kurt a panicked smile and after a tension-filled moment, his boyfriend returned the grin, though his was much smugger and replied, “That’s what I thought.”

The former god relaxed, relieved that he still had a chance at getting some later, and obediently followed his boyfriend as he dragged him to some other display, chattering on about curtains.

As Kurt showed Blaine his top two options for the drapes in the Master Bedroom, he couldn’t help but think that maybe Ariadne had been right about the whole “wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger” thing. But, when they did finally return to the hotel that afternoon (or met with the family’s new banker, according to Burt), he rode Blaine in reverse cowboy like his boyfriend had been dying to since their time in Greece, so Kurt couldn’t bring himself to feel too bad.

0-0-0

Friday afternoon, Kurt and Blaine gathered at the hotel to say farewell to Dionysus and Ariadne. The previous night Olympian and his wife had taken all the Hummel-Hudsons out to one of the nicer steakhouses in the area (much to Burt’s delight) and had said their goodbyes to Kurt’s parents then. It was somewhat of a relief to the teenager not to have Burt and Carole there, since their absence meant they didn’t have to hide. It also meant that the gods didn’t have to charter a jet and could de-materialize back to their estate.

“Oh I’m going to miss you, sweetie,” Ariadne said as she and Kurt hugged again. “You know how to reach me, correct?” She paused for the youth to nod in the affirmative. “Good, now you know I will pick up my phone any time of the day, noon, or night unless we’re on Olympus in which case Proomia will answer, and I’ll come right back down and get back to you, I promise.”

“Thank you, Ariadne,” Kurt replied, touched by the goddess’s generosity.

“Of course, I remember when I was being courted by Don how nice it was to have someone to talk about all this with,” the goddess assured him. “Now, have the best senior year and—“ she lowered her voice slightly and glanced over to where Blaine and Dionysus were conversing before going on, “be sure to not to let Blaine overwhelm you. He’s two thousand five hundred and eleven years older than you, but I’m convinced you’re the more mature one.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kurt shrugged.

“I do,” she joked. “But in all seriousness, I know you two love each other very much, but if you ever hit a rough patch, I’m here for you, honey.”

“Thank you, I…that means the world to me,” the boy confessed.

“It’s my pleasure,” Ariadne promised him.

“Darling, it’s time,” Dionysus called.

“One last hug,” she insisted, drawing Kurt in close once more and pecking him on the cheek.

“It was good to see you again, Kurt,” the Olympian told him, clasping his hand firmly. “I can’t imagine my son with a finer young man than you.”

“Th-thank you, Dio-um, Don,” the mortal answered stiltedly. He never knew exactly how to address Blaine’s father.

“Best of luck this year, Blaine said he will be sure to keep me updated on which conservatories you plan on applying to,” Dionysus said with a knowing grin.

“Oh, well yes, thank you,” Kurt stuttered once more.

Dionysus chuckled warmly and told him to take care, waiting for his wife to finish saying her farewell to Blaine. They exchanged another round of fond goodbyes before the two immortals vanished in a flash of light.

Kurt waited thirty second before turning to Blaine and inquiring, “Did you dad just imply that he can get me into Julliard?”

Blaine laughed. “Babe, my Dad could get you a spot at Julliard and a Tony with a snap of his fingers if you said the word. He likes you, you know.”

“I, um…wow,” Kurt swallowed audibly as he tried to process it all. “Obviously that would be unfair and I want to earn my own fame and success but…it’s kind of cool to know, I guess.”

“It pays to have connections babe,” Blaine replied.

“Well, on a slightly less exciting topic, you’re invited to Friday night dinner at seven,” he informed Blaine, “Carole’s making lasagna.”

“Sounds delicious, I’d be delighted,” Blaine acquiesced, leaning in to gently kiss Kurt on the lips. When they broke apart, he glimpsed down at his watch. “Do we have time for a quickie before I drive you back to Lima?”

“Are you sure Dionysus turned you mortal?” Kurt teased, surveying him with a critical eye playfully.

“Yes,” he replied with mock-offense. “Do you want to see this bruise I got yesterday from banging my leg against the dresser?”

“Hm, I think I’ll pass,” Kurt responded, giggling at his lover’s legitimate excitement over the injury, “that quickie you mentioned earlier is looking more appealing if the alternative is examining your contusions.”

Immediately, Blaine’s eyes darkened and his voice slid down an octave, “Then by all means…”

0-0-0

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel,” Blaine said sweetly as everyone took their seats around the dining room table. Kurt grinned fondly at his boyfriend, fighting every muscle in his face from wincing as he took his seat.

“You’re very welcome, Blaine,” Carole returned his pleasantry. Finn rolled his eyes and scowled.

Their conversation continued in the form of small talk until Burt asked about how his first few days at Ohio State had been.

“It’s been a lot to take in of course,” Blaine told him as he helped himself to another piece of lasagna, “but I’m looking forward to this year.”

“Do you know what you plan on studying, dear?” Carole asked.

“Finance.”

“Finance?”  Kurt echoed with surprise, eyeing Blaine suspiciously as he took another bit of his food.

“Mmmhm,” he answered, not wanting to talk with his mouth full, yet still the picture of nonchalance.

“What’s wrong with Blaine studying Finance?” Burt asked, now also looking at the pair of boys with confusion.

“Maybe because he already has enough money than he knows what to do with,” Finn muttered.

“No,” Kurt retaliated with an irritated glare at Finn. He knew that if his mother’s lasagna wasn’t one of his all-time favorite dishes, his brother probably would have refused to join them. “It’s a perfectly fine thing to major in, I just…” he turned to his boyfriend, “…I would have guessed you’d major in Theatre or the Classics or Archeology.”

“I can see how you’d think that,” Blaine replied, “but I suppose in the spirit of new beginnings I wanted to take on a new academic challenge.”

“Oh,” Kurt replied, unable to think of much else to say. This was something he’d discuss with his boyfriend later in private.

“Well, majors and classes are all well and good, and are most important of course,” Burt began, “but the Buckeyes have gotta be the best part of going to school in Columbus.”

“Oh definitely, sir,” Blaine agreed, a little overenthusiastically. Kurt wasn’t sure if it was more endearing, amusing, or pathetic how desperate the Greek was to make a good impression on his father. “Got my season tickets this morning.”

“Beg your pardon?” Burt asked with disbelief. “Did you just say that you have season tickets for the Buckeyes?”

“Yep,” Blaine responded, preening a little under the mortal’s man interest. “Third row, right on the fifty-yard line.”

“You don’t say,” Burt marveled.

“You’re always welcome to come up for a game, I made sure to get six so there’d be enough. That goes for Finn, too.”

Blaine regarded Finn cautiously for a moment, but the other boy didn’t react, he simply continued to eat his dinner and act as if Blaine hadn’t spoken.

“Well, I don’t know about Finn,” Burt said with a pointed look to his step-son, “but I will definitely take you up on that offer.”

“Please do,” Blaine said with a smile, optimistic that maybe now Burt wouldn’t look at him like a sex offender whenever he was in the room.

0-0-0

Blaine was wrong. Well, not entirely. But Burt was not as accommodating was the Greek hoped he’d be, seeing as after dinner had been cleared and the sports highlights on ESPN had been watched, the older man had clicked off the TV and rose from his chair to regard Blaine and his beau, who were sitting together on the couch.

“Oh no,” Kurt stage-whispered to his boyfriend, “this is where he threatens that if you harm a hair on my head, he’ll hunt you down with his shotgun.”

“Very funny, Kurt,” Burt told him son, clearly not amused. “But this is the part where some ground rules are put in effect. Now I know you two had quite a bit of ‘alone time’ over the summer—“

“I thought we were never going to speak of that again,” Kurt interjected.

“—but things are going to be different here,” he finished over his son. “For instance, when you two are in this house, your bedroom door is to remain open.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“Furthermore, your curfew will still be ten on school nights and twelve on weekends, therefore, if you two are driving together—“

“We’ll make sure to be back by then,” Blaine assured him quietly.

“What? No!” Kurt protested. “Dad, that’s insane!”

“I don’t see what’s so insane about it, Blaine doesn’t seem to have a problem with it,” Burt pointed out.

The teen glared at his father, his boyfriend, and then back at his father before stating, “That’s only because Blaine is afraid of you maiming him! If I have to be back at twelve on weekends then Blaine should be allowed to sleepover.”

“Okay—“

“In my bed.”

“Absolutely not.”

 “Dad!” Kurt lamented. 

“Look I know this summer you two…” Burt trailed off, opting to gesticulate awkwardly than actually say it. Blaine blanched at his mention of his sexual activity with his son. “...okay? I get that. I was a teenage boy once too and—“

“So what’s the problem?” Kurt demanded.

“The problem is that I’m your father and I can’t allow that sort of stuff to happen under my roof,” he asserted.

“Dad, Blaine and I are…sexually active. We have been that way for a few months now, we’re safe, monogamous, and in love, and we intend on…um, remaining that way for the foreseeable future. I…I only told you the truth about us because I was led to believe that we respect each other’s honesty and handle it maturely.”

“I know kiddo, and I do appreciate that you were honest with me, don’t ever think otherwise,” Burt relented, scrubbing a hand over his face as he searched for the right words to say. “The thing is I’m in a really difficult position here. You’re my son living under my roof and even though it’s only for a little while longer, I still have the authority here. But, I love you and want you to be happy, yet it’s hard for me to just let go like this. There’s also your brother to think about. We have to keep things fair in this household, so if you and Blaine are having Brokeback Mountain sleepovers every night of the week, what kind of message does that send to him?”

 “What if I slept over at Blaine’s?”

“Kurt,” Burt’s was colored with exasperation and hurt, “was that all you got from all that?”

“No,” he responded diffidently. “I understand where you’re coming from, I really do, but is there any way we can reach a compromise?”

A long, heavy silence permeated as Burt contemplated the situation at hand. Just as Blaine was beginning to summon—nay, beg—the Furies to appear and drag him down to the Underworld, the mortal man spoke.

 “How about this? Your curfew is remains the same, but—“ he emphasized just as Kurt was about to object, “Blaine can sleep over here on weekends as long as you’re in separate bedrooms and you can spend the night at his place once a month.”

Kurt appraised his father with his best icy bitch-glare before replying, “One weekend a month.”

“Fine, one weekend a month.”

“Every other weekend,” Kurt tried to bargain.

“You’re pushing it kid,” Burt warned him. “Take the deal or walk.”

Another bitchy ice-glare and some more silent Fury-begging later, Kurt finally agreed, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Burt confirmed, “and you know that if you break curfew or any other house rules, these privileges go away until I see fit.”

“Yes, Dad,” Kurt replied reluctantly before adding in a more heartfelt tone, “thank you.”

“Yeah, um, thanks Mr. Hummel,” Blaine added quietly, the first time he’d spoken since this whole discussion had begun.

“Yeah yeah, I’m trusting you two to be responsible, so don’t disappoint me,” Burt huffed, collapsing back into his chair and turning on the TV once more.

“Okay, well we’re just going to go upstairs then,” Kurt announced, taking Blaine’s hand and tugging him up and off the couch, “with the door open of course.”

Once in the safety of Kurt’s room, Blaine didn’t hesitate to fall face first onto his boyfriend’s bed, groaning loudly in what the American guessed was relief once he made impact with the soft linens.

“You okay there, Tiger?” Kurt asked, still standing and surveying his boyfriend amusedly.

He received another grunt in return.

“Anything I can get you there?” the teen prodded once more.

Blaine scoffed in reply before turning his head so he could speak clearly, “You wouldn’t happen to have some scotch and a Xanax on hand, would you?”

“Oh come on you big baby,” Kurt chided him lightly as he climbed onto the bed and moved to straddle his beau’s lower back. “You just sat there the whole time, I was the one who did all the negotiating.”

Blaine groaned again as he felt the teen’s long, deft fingers begin to knead the coiled muscles of his back. “Yeah, but you were never in danger of losing your cock and/or testicles.”

“Blaine, I told you that I told my dad that we had sex,” Kurt pointed out as he worked on a knot right below his left shoulder blade, “and that he is not one for subtlety, so believe me when I say if wanted to castrate you, he would have done it by now.”

“Gee, that’s comforting,” Blaine muttered with half-hearted sarcasm, “but I definitely think he’d chop my balls off if he knew just how much sex we’ve had this past week alone.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that because he’s never going to know,” Kurt dismissed his boyfriend’s point as he continued to work on Blaine’s back, “so enough with the woe-is-me act, Mr. Drama King. You’re no good to me when you’re all pouty like this.”

The Greek fought the childish urge to stick his tongue out, and instead hummed deeply as Kurt found another tight spot near his right ribs. “You are insanely good at this,” he murmured as he finally started to relax under the ministrations of his boyfriend’s skilled fingers. Blaine was convinced that after all that stress and fear he’d endured downstairs that he wouldn’t be able to even think about becoming aroused for the next twenty-four hours at the very least, but with the way Kurt was working him over and sitting on the small of his back, so temptingly close to his ass, Blaine found himself reconsidering.

Just before he cock could truly start to stir however, he reminded himself of the wrath of Burt Hummel, a wrath he didn’t want to subject himself to no matter how quiet and discreet he knew that he and Kurt could be. Therefore, he told Kurt groggily, “Hmm, babe? That feels so good, but the thing is it’s almost a little too good, if you know what I mean.”

 “I do,” Kurt said with a chuckled and lifted himself off of his boyfriend’s body. “So, since we have a very concerned father downstairs that’s probably listening to our every sound…do you want to see the options for my first day of senior year outfit?”

Blaine shifted on the bed so he was sitting up and replied with a kiss, “Sure.”

0-0-0

“Hon,” Kurt called from his closet as he was changing from outfit option number five to number six, “could you go grab me a Perrier? They’re on the top shelf of the fridge.”

“’Kay,” he called from his spot on the bed.

The Greek pushed himself up and traipsed down to the kitchen, finding the beverages easily enough and taking one for himself as well before he made his way back upstairs. Blaine was stopped in his tracks in the hallway outside Kurt’s room when a voice grabbed his attention.

 “Hey.”

It was Finn. It was also the first time the boy had addressed Blaine directly since Greece. He had been civil enough when Dionysus and Ariadne had been in town, but otherwise had barely acknowledged Blaine, choosing to sulk and mutter unimaginative insults to himself whenever the former god was present.

“Can I help you?” Blaine asked warily, adding to himself, or are you so dumb that I have to remind you that you’re not speaking to me?

“You know you might have Burt and my mom fooled, but don’t think I’m buying your innocent boyfriend act for a second,” Finn informed him, the hostility in his voice blatant.

“Is that so?” Blaine questioned the other man, his interest piqued, but remaining aloof at the same time.

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten for one second how much of a dick you really are,” the teen spat, “and I don’t have any problem whatsoever telling Burt exactly how you treated Kurt like shit this summer.”

Blaine smirked at Finn’s intended threat. “Well why haven’t you then?”

“Because Kurt’s my brother and I love him,” he replied, “and I know it would make him unhappy if Burt kicked your ass back to Greece where you belong. So if you even think about hurting Kurt—“

“Okay, I’m going to stop you there,” Blaine interjected. “Don’t get me wrong, your misguided sense of brotherly protectiveness is adorable, but the thing is you and I don’t know each other very well, Finn. So I’m going to do you a favor since we all know you’re thick as a board and tell you this point blank,” he stepped closer and even though the height difference was not in the Greek’s favor, Blaine exuded power and dominance as he spoke in a low, deliberate voice, “I am not someone you want to threaten.”

“Really, short stack?” Finn countered. “Because I’m pretty sure I could take you.”

“And I sincerely look forward to the day to when you feel like testing that theory,” Blaine chuckled haughtily.

Finn glowered at him viciously and added, “So do I.”

“Now as stimulating as this all is, I really must be going—“ he lifted his hand holding the sparkling waters, “—my boyfriend is thirsty.”

“I’m watching you,” Finn growled. “One wrong move and I’ll kick your ass.”

Blaine couldn’t help but laugh again as he re-entered Kurt’s room, “Like I said, adorable.”

“Who’s adorable?” Kurt asked, emerging from the closet.

“You, of course,” Blaine replied immediately, switching from superior and intimidating to doting and jolly in an instant. Kurt needn’t know anything about his beef with Finn. He knew how much his boyfriend cared for his brother, therefore their mutual loathing of each other could stay concealed for now. Plus, Kurt needed someone to help him pick out a killer first day of Senior Year outfit, and Blaine would be damned if an insignificant pest like Finn would distract him from his love.

Besides, unbeknownst to either boy, the opportunity for Blaine to show Finn that he wasn’t to be messed with would present itself the following week, the first day of school at McKinley.