Burt was glaring daggers at his son across the table. Kurt huffed in annoyance. He did not want to have this conversation. They'd barely sat down and he was already under interrogation.

"Burt, can it please wait until we get our drinks at the very least," Carole sighed, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder. Kurt shot her a grateful look, but Burt refused to yield from his chosen path. Hummel men were nothing if not stubborn.

"No. Not after what that bastard–"

"Burt!" Carole scolded, looking shocked, "He's just a boy even if he is a little...crude."

Burt clinched his teeth, his eyes narrowing at the memory of the cocky teenager. Kurt stared fixedly at the menu in front of him. Next to him, Finn fidgeted in his seat. Kurt didn't dare look up. He didn't have to. He could feel his father's eyes drilling holes into his skull as he made his demands.

"I want answers and I want them now, Kurt."

When Kurt remained mute, resolutely staring at the table, he turned instead to Finn, who looked like he'd just walked out into oncoming traffic.

"And you, Finn? You got anything you want to tell me about all of this?"

Finn opened his mouth, eyes wide, "I–uh–well–"

Kurt kicked the taller boy sharply in the shin under the table. Finn yelped at the unexpected harassment, and thankfully forgot about Burt's question in favor of the pain flaring up his leg, "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" Kurt asked, pulling his face into a bewildered expression that fooled none of them.

"Kurt, don't try and distract him unless you'd rather tell me yourself–"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"It sure as hell didn't sound like nothing!"

"Boys! Can we please save the arguments until we've have something to eat?" Carole interrupted smoothly.

Kurt had never been more grateful to have a woman around. Finn quickly agreed as his stomach rumbled. The Hummels glared at each other across the table, and Kurt turned away fuming silently. Burt sighed in frustration, and slide out of the booth.

"I need a drink," he decided, heading over to the bar up front.

An awkward silence fell in his absence and Finn quickly made a rush for the salad bar to get away, leaving him and Carole alone. A ruddy-faced man with a terrible attempt at an Italian accent arrived and took their drink orders, two waters and a root beer for Finn. Kurt went back to perusing his menu, holding it up to block the rest of the table from view for when his father inevitably returned.

"So what's his name?"

He lowered his menu a fraction and found Carole looking at him expectantly. Her tone wasn't demanding, just gentle and curious. It was really just the thing he needed right now: an objective outsider, someone who wasn't going to try and lock him away and protect him until he was thirty or squeal and pester him for details and muddle his confused feelings even more.

Still he hesitated. This was his father's girlfriend. Wouldn't she feel obligated to tell Burt what she knew when he asked? Because Kurt knew if his father didn't get the answers he was looking for tonight, he would go to any source who might be able to give them to him.

She seemed to pick up on his uncertainty as she laid her menu flat and smiled at him kindly. Her tone was reassuring as she added, "Unless you're doing something that would harm someone, you know I won't tell your father if you don't want me too, sweetheart. This is strictly one of our lady chats."

Kurt smiled slightly at the term. As much as he was adamant of his masculinity he would always be fond of having lady chats. They were just so much deeper and more sensible than how guys tried to talk with each other.

"His...his name's Blaine." he mumbled. God, why was he blushing?

Carole's smile brightened and she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "I take it what Finn heard from Santana is true?"

"No!" he said immediately.

"Honey, I think the sudden addition of scarves to every outfit speaks for itself."

So Carole had noticed. Heat was spreading over his cheeks like a wildfire as his humiliation mounted. He corrected himself quietly, "Yes. Maybe. God, I don't know. He just–and his lips were–and my favorite Alexander McQueen is permanently coated in chalk dust–and-and-I just hate him."

He knew he was rambling mindlessly. But he just had to get it all out and tell someone. A warm hand closed over his and he looked up to meet her light green eyes. There was no judgment in her gaze, just something he couldn't name–something in the way she was looking at him, almost as if she knew something he didn't. Before he could process it, the look flickered out and a warm smile was directed his way again. Things may not have turned out like he'd originally planned, but he would never regret giving this woman the chance to love his father and indirectly himself.

"It's okay to like how he makes you feel. To like him, Kurt. Even if he's very..." she trailed away, obviously unsure of just how to sum Blaine up in one word. He'd certainly make quite an impression.

"Dangerous? Obnoxious? Hopelessly gorgeous?"

Wait, what? He had definitely not meant to say the last one out loud. But Carole smiled and laughed, rubbing his knuckles affectionately.

"I think everyone goes for a bad boy at some point in their lives." Carole said gently, "I first met Finn's father when he was barreling along on a Harley Davidson. He grew up into a very respectable and responsible man." she paused as some of her worry crept over her features, "Just please, Kurt. Be careful if things get serious. Chris was just full of himself and trying to be cool. I don't know what kind of trouble this boy is or has been in but I do know how exciting and completely terrifying it can be all at once. He's the first openly gay boy you've met that's your age and I know how lonely you've been when everyone else has someone."

He knew she knew that. Carole was well aware of his pursuit of Finn the previous year, not all the details but enough to know how much he craved what everyone else. Blaine presented something he'd never had a real chance at before, but at the same time Kurt knew he didn't. A serious, committed relationship without all the drama like his friends suffered through was what he wanted, whereas Blaine was clearly just searching for a quick fuck.

"Things won't go any further than they have," Kurt informed her, "He's nothing but trouble and the last thing I need is his murder on my conscious because Dad can't control himself."

"He might end up on trial for that regardless of what happens beyond this point."

Kurt nodded in agreement as Finn and Burt returned. Two plates, one piled high with a mountain of salad and enough ranch dressing to drown a cat in and a second completely devoted to bacon bits and croutons, clattered onto the table top next to him. His father had a tall glass of beer that was already half gone. Without a word, Finn grabbed his spoon and hefted a spoonful of bacon bits into his mouth.

Kurt grimaced, "Ugh. Finn that is disgusting."

" 'hut? Erm hugray." Finn protested, spraying the table with little red dots.

Their waiter returned with their drinks and took the rest of their orders. Burt continued to nursed his drink, watching Kurt carefully. He felt like he was being x-rayed under his father's gaze. It was like Burt could see into his head and pull out the memories that would forever be burned into his mind of the things he'd done against that chalkboard. The things he really wanted to do again but knew he shouldn't.

Finn was wolfing down his salad when Burt finally spoke again.

"Kurt, I'm still waiting for answers." The authoritative tone was not lost on Kurt. A quick glance at Carole offered him a encouraging nod.

"What do you want to know exactly?" Kurt said, trying to come off indifferent to the renewed interrogation. If his father wanted answers he wasn't going to make it easy. Or make it obvious that he was lying.

"What's that–that kid's"– Burt spat the word out as if it was a terrible swear– "name? Why's he just now realizing that he...plays for your team?"

"His name's Blaine and he just transferred here." Kurt answered, swirling his straw around in his drink, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. As an afterthought he added, "He's probably been out longer than I have to be honest."

"And he's"–Burt cleared his throat awkwardly staring hard at the wall behind his son's head–"interested in you?"

"He's a moron." Kurt said, tiredly. He knew his father was fishing instead of getting straight to the point. It was an unusual tactic for Burt Hummel, but Kurt knew how uncomfortable this conversation had to be for him. The thought of Kurt growing up and pursuing a relationship with someone like Blaine undoubtedly terrified him.

"And you two are–have been–is he taking advantage–or–" Kurt took a vindictive joy in watching his father stumble over his words. At the same time, he had no doubt how much his father loved him and that he only wanted what was best for him. How worried he was that Blaine might try to harm him was one of the most touching things he'd ever said.

"No, Dad. He just–"It was Kurt's turn to clear his throat and shift around uncomfortably, "He kissed me. I told him to stop. That's it."

"But Santana said you two like, made out or something," Finn couldn't stop himself from mentioning the rumors.

"Since when has Santana ever been truthful?" Kurt snapped, though he couldn't stop the pink tint that appeared on his cheeks. It didn't help that Carole was grinning like an idiot at him.

"Yeah, I guess." Finn decided, "She's pretty mean about that kind of stuff."

"So what he said in the parking lot..." Burt trailed off, but Kurt could hear the hope in his voice. When had his father gotten so adorable? He was so worried about him it was almost sickening.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of us, Dad." Kurt lied, keeping his tone light and disinterested, "My virtue is still safe. You can relax now."

Well, most of it was safe, he amended quietly to himself. But his father didn't need to know that.

"I don't care what he's trying to do. I see him anywhere near him and he's a dead man. I don't want you anywhere near someone like him, you got that?"

Kurt nodded vaguely as their appetizers arrived. It's not like he actively sought Blaine out or something. He really had no control over Blaine pushing his way into his life.

----------------------------------------------------------

By Sunday evening Kurt honestly couldn't remember why he'd been looking forward to the weekend. All weekend his father continued to side eye him as though he knew there was more than Kurt had told him. He felt like he was under surveillance when he was anywhere expect hidden away in his basement bedroom and Burt sprung prying questions on him whenever Kurt least expected them.

Saturday presented him with a tower of homework. Later that night Rachel had appeared on his doorstep, shrilly demanding to know when his detentions were over, what she was supposed to do about sunshine (he had no idea what on earth that was all about), and when he would be returning to Glee Club rehearsals. He'd slammed the door in her face, hoping his father hadn't heard from his place in the living room, but no such luck. After another conversation he didn't want to have, he'd been grounded for the following week even though his father had been proud of him for slapping Blaine.

On Sunday, he awoke late to an empty house under the impression his father was working at the shop. The sound of the front door opening around four o'clock ricocheted down his staircase, much too early for a shift at the shop to end.

"Hey Kurt! Can you come up here for a minute? I've brought some of that veggie pizza you like for dinner!"

The thought of another interrogation when he was distracted but one of his favorites didn't appeal to him but he was hungry. He took his time climbing the stairs and heading into the kitchen where the pizza box was flopped open on the counter. A plate was presented to him as his father leaned over the counter eating his own slice.

There was nothing about this situation he liked. Burt was so nervous it was oozing out of his pores. Kurt took a cautious bite of pizza, waiting for the bomb to drop and then–

A stack of pamphlets were dropped down in front of him. For a moment he thought they were some of the ridiculous ones Ms. Pillsbury kept in her office but then he read one of the titles–

Oh good god. His father had found him pamphlets on gay sex. This was not happening. He had to be having a nightmare because this was not happening. The next half an hour had been a blur of things he'd never expected a sex talk to involve. It'd been awkward and painful, but it was a heartfelt gesture he was incredibly grateful for.

Don't throw yourself around like you don't matter.

And he wouldn't. Because Blaine wasn't worth that to him. He'd never been more reassured about his choice to cut Blaine out of his life than he was after that conversation. And he was insanely proud of himself as Monday and Tuesday flew by and there were no more incidences between them. Of course, Mr. Robertson was now going out of his way to assure they were never left alone in detentions but still, progress was progress.

On Wednesday he finally had a tiny ray of hope to brighten his week. He no longer had detention with Blaine and as long as he continued to ignore the delinquent in their shared classes he might finally be in the clear once and for all until Blaine found somebody else to stalk.
His day was instantly ruined when Mr. Robertson made an announcement at the beginning of class.

"Already everyone, settle down! I've got your assignments for the first novel analysis made up. Break off into your pairs now please!"

Mercedes and Tina shuffled away to their respective partners and Kurt mentally prepared himself for a class spent with nobody but Blaine to talk to. A chin was suddenly resting on his shoulder and Blaine's voice was right next to his ear.

"Mmm, I've been waiting for this project, baby. We'll finally get some real alone time."

"No we won't." Kurt scoffed, jerking away from the other boy, "We'll do it in the library or not at all."

"The library huh?" Blaine echoed as Mr. Robertson handed them their assigned section with the due date and guidelines, "I've always wanted to fuck someone bent over a table."

His words went straight to Kurt's cock.

"I loathe you." Kurt hissed in aggravation, turning away to read the sheet of paper. At the bottom there was a small calendar that had the scheduled due dates. He scanned it for his own name, finally spotted it listed on Friday the twenty-fourth. They had a little more than a week at least but god he was dreading it.

Behind him Blaine was grinning lecherously, "Loathe me, huh? I bet you'll change your mind when I'm blowing you under a library desk."

Kurt gritted his teeth, cursing the images popping into his head as another jolt of arousal tingled down his spine. Just when he'd thought things were going to start going his way he was now going to be stuck alone with Blaine for at least several hours at the very least. And regardless of whether or not they did work on their project in the library he wouldn't put it past Blaine to do either of the things he'd just said.