“I can’t believe you!” Burt heard his son bark as the elder Hummel entered the kitchen through the garage. He watched unnoticed as Kurt strode to the refrigerator and removed a bag of frozen peas. The teen stalked bag into the living room and Burt followed silently, stopping at the doorway so he could peek around the corner. On the couch sat Blaine, and even with the distance, Burt could see the beginnings of an impressive shiner under the Greek’s left eye starting to bloom.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Blaine demanded quietly, catching the bag of vegetables that Kurt tossed to him.

“Why am I yelling at you?” Kurt repeated with incredulity before switching into scathing sarcasm. “Why am I yelling at you? Hm, let’s see…maybe because you show up at my school completely unannounced and dressed like that—“ motioned up and down at Blaine’s body which was obscured to Burt by the back of the couch “—and the proceed to sing Tom Jones’s “It’s Not Unusual” accompanied by what has to be the gayest choreography that I have ever seen, which is really saying something seeing as you were surrounded by a group of twenty women. And by the way, Tom Jones? Really? Since when is the Carleton Dance song appropriate song to serenade your boyfriend with?”

“So you’re mad that my song choice?” Blaine guessed.

“No! Ugh, Blaine,” Kurt lamented with frustration, “how many times have we been over this? We are not in Athens anymore, we have to be more subtle when it comes to PDA here!”

“I know,” the other young man groused.

“Well, obviously you don’t since you pulled your little stunt during lunch!” Kurt fired back. “All I want is an uneventful Senior Year where I can focus on getting solos in Glee club, applying to college, spending time with you and not having to worry about locker slams or slushie facials or bullies!”

It broke Burt’s heart to have to listen to his son reprimand his boyfriend about how they couldn’t be together in public like his friends could at school. It was all so damn unfair, Kurt deserved to be with the person he loved just like every other stinkin’ teenager.  

“I’m sorry, okay?” Blaine huffed. “I was trying to be spontaneous and fun but then those mortals had to pick a fight—“

“Newsflash, Blaine. I’m a mortal and so are you now,” he quipped.

“—whatever,” the Greek man dismissed Kurt’s interjection. Burt cocked an eyebrow, was “mortal” another term for American in Greece? He didn’t understand, but honestly he was more concerned with the mention of a fight. “How can you be mad at me for defending myself?”

Burt decided that it was time for him to intervene. He cleared his throat loudly and crossed into the living room, asking in a firm but not accusatory tone, “What’s going on here?”

Both boys startled at Burt’s entrance.

“Dad,” Kurt was the first to recover. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Burt replied and looked at Blaine who seemed petrified on the couch. “You seemed to be a little too busy chewing out your boyfriend over here. Now I never got an answer to my question, what’s the deal with you two?”

Kurt hesitated for a moment, glancing at his lover quickly before beginning to speak, “There was somewhat of an…altercation at school today.”

“Mmmhmm?” Burt prodded.

“Blaine surprised me with an impromptu musical performance on the steps at lunch, which turned out to be a disaster—“

“How so?”

“Well, Blaine asked Santana and the Cheerios to help him out as backup dancers, but she used the performance as an opportunity to set one of the purple pianos on fire.”

“Wait—Fire? What?” Burt spluttered.

“It’s nothing, Dad, trust me, everyone’s fine it’s just….glee club politics,” he offered by way of explanation.

“You still haven’t told me why I’ve got Rocky Balboa sitting here on my couch though,” Burt pressed.

“Well, um, after the whole incident at lunch I got taunted a lot throughout the day, nothing physical—“ Kurt was quick to assure him, “—but just stupid stuff about the gay kid finding another freak like him.”

Burt wanted to interrupt and remind Kurt that verbal abuse was still abuse, but he refrained in order to allow his son to finish.

“It wasn’t that bad really, but when Blaine came to pick me up from Glee to go out for coffee we ran into some guys who…” Kurt trailed off, “…uh…”

“They were yelling homophobic slurs at us, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said in a clear voice. “It was a bunch of jocks on their way to football practice. They were antagonizing us and I wasn’t going to just stand there and take it, so I punched the ringleader and one thing led to another.”

Burt was silent for a long time before he spoke.

“Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Can I speak to Blaine alone?”

“No,” came his son’s immediate response. “Dad—“

“I’m not going to threaten him or shoot him or anything,” Burt promised. “I just want to talk to him.”

Kurt looked between the two men he loved dearest with indecision before Blaine urged him, “It’s okay, Kurt, I’m fine. We can talk.”

That didn’t cause the torn expression disappear from his face though, he deliberated for a moment more before surrendering reluctantly, “Fine.”

Once the man in question had marched up the stairs, Burt spoke “So what happened after you punched him?”

“We fought,” Blaine answered. “They got a couple swings in—“ he motioned to his eye “—but I took them down easily enough.”

“You?” Burt snorted, but caught himself. “Don’t get me wrong, kid, I don’t mean to insult you but I’ve seen the athletes they’ve got over there at McKinley…”

“Yes, well, as advantageous as size and brute strength is,” Blaine worded his response carefully, “I studied martial arts for quite some time when I was younger.”

“I see,” Burt remarked, taking a seat across from the Greek. “But the thing is Blaine, my son doesn’t need you to fight his battles for him.”

“I know,” he agreed instantly. “I do, Kurt doesn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him. He’s so strong, it’s just…you know I love him, Mr. Hummel, and I don’t want him to have to.”

“I know how you feel,” Burt said quietly. 

Blaine smiled wistfully.

“But listen kid, I’ve been where you are with the frustration, in fact, hell I feel like I’m still there kinda, but fighting isn’t the answer. You have to rise above, Kurt taught me that last year.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine apologized, “my temper seems to get the better of me sometimes and I lose control.”

“So I’ve heard,” Burt remarked.

Blaine’s face dropped. “He told me he told you about our fight this summer.”

“Not everything, but yeah, he told me the basics,” the mortal man confirmed.

“Let me just say that I have never been more ashamed of my actions than I am in regards to that night and I swear it will never happen again,” the young man averred.

“It kinda did today though,” Burt pointed out. He saw that Blaine seemed to be on the verge of tears. “Listen, Blaine, I don’t know you or your past at all really, and that’s my fault for not trying to. But I do know from experience that lashing out like that can be dangerous for those around you and yourself.”

“I…I don’t know what I’m doing,” Blaine admitted, his voice small and thin. “I love him so much, and I want to give him everything and I try to be what he wants and what he needs, but I always manage to fuck everything up. I’ve never done this…I-I’ve never really cared before.”

“It’s scary, I know,” Burt sympathized, “when I was dating Kurt’s mother, I…I felt a lot like you did, and like you, I made a lot of mistakes. Love is just as humiliating as it is wonderful, let me tell ya.”

“I sang to him last time too,” Blaine laughed sardonically to himself. He gazed up at Burt and expounded, “The last time we fought. It all started with a flashy musical number.”

“One time I tried to write Elizabeth poetry, because look at me,” Burt gestured to his flannel shirt and baseball cap, “I’m not artsy or fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but she was, she could play the piano and dressed nice, so I tried to impress her on our anniversary with this poem I wrote. She ended up not speaking to me for two days.”

“How come?”

“Let’s say I didn’t bother to check all the big words I put in, and it turned my profession of love was pretty offensive.”

Blaine couldn’t hold back a small chuckle.

“Look Blaine, it’s obvious how much Kurt means to you. I mean, how many people move halfway around the world and start over for the person they love? Not many, that’s for sure. But you have to let intentions, no matter how grand and noble you think they are, stay intentions sometimes.”

“I understand that now, I really do,” the former god told Burt, “but—did you ever experience this with your wife—this intense need to protect. Again, he doesn’t need me to, I’m not trying to emasculate him by doing so, but I want to. He’s had to fight so hard on his own for so long, and how that I’m here I…I just want to him to know he’s not alone anymore.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, in fact, hearing you say that is…you have no idea what it means to me,” Burt confessed, trying to hide the building emotion in his voice. “However, that being said, next time, use your head, okay?”

“Yes Mr. Hummel,” Blaine vowed with a smile. He rose with the mortal man, bag of peas in his hand.

“And kid?” Burt called just as Blaine was about to climb the stairs.

“Yes?”

“It’s Burt.”

0-0-0

“Blaine?”

“Mmmm?”

“Have you ever heard of the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts?” Kurt asked as they side-stepped together in the middle of the living room, soft music wafting through the air, the lights dimmed.

Tuesday night was Burt and Carole’s date night. They usually went out to Breadsticks and half-price ticket night over at the Cineplex, which meant Blaine and Kurt had a few precious hours to themselves since by the grace of Aphrodite, Finn was out as well. They had thrown together a quick dinner of spaghetti carbonara and salad, reveling in the domesticity of the act, cooking and dining together was something they hadn’t been able to experience in weeks. After the plates had been cleared, Blaine had turned on the stereo, beckoning his consort to dance with him and pulling him in close as they swayed together. Even though his living room hardly compared to the splendor of the places they’d gone dancing in Greece, the gesture was still incredibly romantic and intimate.

“I have,” Blaine replied, lifting his head from where it had been resting on Kurt’s shoulder. “It’s a great school.”

“It has the top musical theatre program in the country, in fact,” the teen informed him. “Rachel and I are going to apply, there’s this mixer for prospective students tomorrow night at a hotel in Dayton. We started planning a musical number to wow the competition with during free period.”

“That’s wonderful, babe,” Blaine grinned softly. “You’d be a perfect fit.”

“You’re not just saying that…?” Kurt trailed off, the insecurity audible in his tone.

Blaine fixed him with a look. “Of course not, Kurt, you’re extremely talented. Besides, there’s plenty of time to sharpen your skills before your audition and I’ll be here to help you every step of the way…if you want me to, that is.”

“Oh, I want,” Kurt purred, surging forward and capturing Blaine’s lips in a fervid kiss. The Greek responded eagerly, his hold around Kurt’s waist tightening and pulling him closer as their lips moved against each other, full of passion but somehow unhurried at the same time. It wasn’t long before Blaine slipped his tongue into his lover’s mouth, deepening their liplock, however the boys didn’t rush things from there, but both men seemed content to simply revel in their kisses, nothing more. It had been so long since they weren’t scrambling to find time and space for a frantic quickie, therefore it was almost more exhilarating to be able to just make out.

Kurt found himself getting lost in the press of Blaine’s lips against of his, the slide of their tongues, their close embrace, the music and the semi-darkness…that was, until the door opened and slammed shut, and Finn appeared a second later.

“I’m ho—whoa!” he exclaimed at the sight he was met with when he flipped on the lights in the living room.

Both Blaine and Kurt whipped their heads to the side to see who had interrupted them, no longer attached at the mouth but still in each other’s arms. After a beat, Kurt simply told him, “There’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge if you want some. Now, a little privacy please?”

“Whatever man,” Finn sighed as he turned back to the kitchen in pursuit of said leftovers, “but do you think you guys could move that to somewhere…” the athlete paused when he caught a glimpse of the clock in the entry hallway. He re-entered the living room at once, a supercilious smile on his face. “Hey, isn’t Blaine supposed to be out of here by ten on school nights?”

Kurt cringed and glanced at the time on the cable box, quarter after ten. “Come on Finn, they’re not going to back until later tonight. I convinced Carole to make my dad take her to the fancy new theatre in Bluffton.”

“Sorry, but the rule’s a rule,” he shrugged.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Kurt queried angrily. “How many times have you broken house rules and I’ve turned a blind eye? It’s happened so many times I literally cannot count them.”

A tense, silent standoff ensued between the brothers in the moments following. Without saying anything, Finn stalked off, stomping up the stairs and slamming his door.

“What’s his problem with me anyway?” Blaine inquired once he had left.

Kurt sighed. “I don’t know…I think he thinks he’s protecting me in his own boorish way.”

“Protecting you from what?” the former god pressed. “Protecting you from me?”

“He…I…after the fight in the woods—“ Blaine flinched at its mention “—I was a mess. Like, Bella Swan in New Moon kind of mess according to Rachel,” Kurt said with a self-effacing chuckle.

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was that bad—“

“Blaine, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter now anyway. But Finn felt bad about how badly I was hurting I guess, we’re supposed to have each other’s backs and all that jazz, and now I assume he’s trying to watch out for me by grilling you. And he would probably have tried to confront you by now, but after pulverizing those guys today out of nowhere—“

“I can’t believe I never told you about the century I spent studying Wushu in China back during the Tang Dynasty,” Blaine chuckled casually, as if he had forgotten to tell Kurt that broccoli was his favorite vegetable.

“—well you didn’t, so imagine my surprise and subsequent terror when you threw yourself at half a dozen jocks twice your size.”

“You’re not still mad, are you?” Blaine inquired, “Because not only did I, and I quote, pulverize them, I had a breakthrough with your dad and scared Finn out of cockblocking us.”

Kurt sighed with good-natured exasperation, “Just don’t do it again, are we clear?”

“Crystal,” he averred. They resumed their side-step and huffed in frustration, “I just don’t know why he still hates me. Were the season tickets not enough? You think if I got him new football gear he would—“

“Blaine,” Kurt interjected. “While it is incredibly endearing how much you want my family to like you, you cannot buy Finn’s approval with your checkbook.”

The Greek scowled at Kurt’s words.

“Just give it some time,” the teen promised him, “he’ll come around eventually.”

“If you say so,” Blaine responded, his tone betraying that he was unconvinced.

“And as much as I hate to admit he’s right, maybe you should be going,” Kurt said, remembering his brother’s words. “My parents are probably already on their way home.”

Blaine fixed him with his best pouty puppy eyes and pushed his bottom lip out for good measure.

“Nice try, but the eyes don’t work anymore now that you’re powerless,” Kurt informed him as-a-matter-of-factly.

Instantly, something sparked in the Greek’s eyes and they darkened. “Okay let’s be clear here, just because I don’t have my powers anymore, doesn’t mean I’m powerless.”

“Whatever you say, stud,” Kurt indulged him. “But that still doesn’t change that my parents will be home in twenty minutes and we both have school in the morning.”

“Can’t I just hide in your bedroom and skip class tomorrow?” Blaine tried to negotiate.

“No,” Kurt urged, gently guiding Blaine back towards the door.

“But, it’s going to be a whole three days before I see you,” he lamented.

“We can Skype tomorrow,” the teen offered.

“Can we naughty Skype tomorrow?”

Kurt appraised the former god with a critical look. “We’ll see, you’re not completely off the hook yet for this afternoon and there’s definitely going to be no live webcam show if my parents catch you still here.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Hummel,” Blaine said as he and Kurt walked out the door toward his car.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Athanas—“

“Anderson,” Blaine corrected.

“Right,” Kurt concurred. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Trust me, it’s much better this way. Americans seem to have a special talent in butchering foreign surnames, it’s like they teach you it in school, I swear,” the Greek grumbled.

They had reached the driver’s door of the BMW by now. “Well, Mr. Anderson, this is where I say goodnight.”

“One more kiss?”

“Blaine… “ he began, uneasily glancing around at the sleepy street “…I don’t know, you never know who’s walking their dog or going to drive by.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine comforted him, pulling him into an embrace that was full of warmth but didn’t linger too long either. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Text me you got home safe?”

Blaine rolled his eyes fondly, it was strange to actually have to worry about his safety. “Of course, my dear.”

“Drive safe.”

“Hmph—“

“Blaine—“

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave myself I promise,” Blaine sighed and situated himself inside the vehicle, the coupe purring to life moments later.

“See you at the tailgate!” Kurt called over the car’s engine.

Blaine leaned over the door frame through the open driver’s window. “Later, love!”

And with that he pulled out of driveway and sped down the street, still much too quickly for Kurt’s liking. The teen huffed in frustration as he watched the BMW tear down the road, but watched fondly until his taillights had disappeared.