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Of Great Love and Small Disasters

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"Tonight, tonight. There's only you tonight!"  A pause, then, "Your turn, Blaine."

"Kurt, I really don't feel like it," said Blaine, shifting awkwardly in the passenger seat of Kurt's Navigator.

"Come on, Blaine," said Kurt as he checked his blind spot over his shoulder and changed lanes. "You're Tony now! The directors might have a problem if you don't actually like the song. Not to mention that Rachel might murder you in your sleep - actually, she might do that anyway," he added with a wry glance at Blaine. "Now sing with me! What you are, what you do, what you saaay... Go, Tony."

"I do like the song. That's why I don't want to sing it too much right now; I don't want to get sick of it before we even start rehearsing," Blaine answered evenly.

"Killjoy," Kurt teased, rolling his eyes with a fond smile pulling at his lips. He sighed melodramatically and continued Tonight, now humming it instead of singing the lyrics. They didn't talk again for several minutes, though the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Blaine leant his head back onto the car's ridiculously comfortable headrest and closed his eyes to the sound of Kurt's soft humming.

He couldn't bear to sing anything from West Side Story right now. Not while he knew that Kurt was still down about the casting. Kurt had tried to hide his disappointment when they checked the list, but Blaine could tell that it had still upset him. It wasn't that Blaine thought that Kurt wasn't happy for him - he let his fingers gently trace the petals of a rose in the bouquet Kurt had presented him with - he did. But he hadn't masked his sadness completely, even as he'd enclosed Blaine in a fierce congratulatory hug. Rachel's sudden decision to run against Kurt for president can't have helped, either, and Blaine didn't want to flaunt his success whilst Kurt was still smarting from betrayal.

Kurt moved on from Tonight and started America. Blaine smiled, eyes still closed.

"I think this is my favourite," he murmured. In response Kurt's humming increased in volume. Santana was going to do a great job as Anita, Blaine could tell. And Mike Chang as Riff! Of course everyone had known he was a fantastic dancer, but he had a wonderful voice on him. Blaine and Kurt had hardly been able to believe their ears when they snuck in to watch Mike's audition.

Blaine was looking forward to this production so much. He hadn't been involved in the drama program at Dalton; auditioning for the Warblers had been intimidating enough after his transfer and he hadn't wanted to spread himself too thin. He'd dabbled in musicals as a freshman at his previous high school, but McKinley's West Side Story would be his first lead role.

He was brought out of his musings when the comforting rumble of the Navigator's engine stopped. He opened his eyes, not having even noticed that the car was stationary. Blinking, he realised that they were outside his house. Kurt was smirking at him, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Welcome back, Sleepyhead," Kurt said.

"I wazn' asleep," Blaine mumbled, tongue strangely heavy in his mouth. Kurt fixed him with a level stare.

"Blaine, you lay there for almost a minute before I turned off the engine. You were asleep," he said.

"Oh," said Blaine in surprise. He gave a nonchalant shrug, "Oops?" he said cheekily, collecting his things from the floor at his feet and opening the door.

"Good to know I'm interesting enough to keep your attention," Kurt groused playfully.

"Well, I didn't want to say anything..." Blaine joked, leaping out of the huge car to escape Kurt's hand as he aimed a poke at Blaine's ticklish side in retaliation.

"I know where you live, Blaine Anderson! I know where you keep your gel!"

Blaine laughed, one hand unconsciously making its way to his hair as if to make sure it was still there. "And if anything happens to it, I know where your Julie Andrews CD/DVD collection is, so I'd be very careful what sort of threats you fling around, Mister Hummel!" he retorted. Kurt let out a scandalised gasp, and they laughed. Blaine closed the door and walked around to Kurt's side, pursing his lips against the window expectantly for his goodbye kiss. Kurt lowered the window and obliged, threading his fingers through Blaine's hair as much as he could.

"One day you'll learn that less is more," Kurt whispered when they parted, stroking Blaine's hair. He softened his complaint with a smile and a kiss to Blaine's nose, which Blaine found utterly adorable. He grinned back at Kurt and leaned against the car door.

"You can come inside if you want," he said, gesturing toward his house with his head. "No-one's home. You can help me pick out the right vase for these," he held up the bouquet of roses, burying his nose in one and looking up at Kurt over the top of them. Kurt pouted.

"Augh, you have no idea how much I'd rather hang out with you than help Finn with his chemistry homework," Kurt whined, flinging himself back in his seat. "Unfortunately I promised him I would be free tonight to go over kinetic theory. Sorry."

Blaine shrugged. "S'okay," he said.

"But we should do something on Saturday to make up for it," Kurt said quickly with a smile, knowing full well that they probably would have decided to do something that weekend regardless. "I don't know what, though."

"Yeah, okay. Do you want to come over and we can decide from there?" Blaine asked.

"Sure. But will your parents mind?" Kurt asked, concerned. He had been over a few times but never run into them. He didn't want to interrupt when Blaine seemed to get so little family time as it is. Blaine dispelled his unease with an unruffled hand wave.

"Don't worry; no-one will be home."

"Sounds good, then."

"Great!" Blaine beamed. "It's a date!"

Kurt made the flustered face he did when he didn't want to show just how pleased he was. "I suppose it is," he remarked. Blaine just grinned.

"I'll see you tomorrow at school, then - or probably tonight online, let's be honest," Blaine added with a laugh. IM and Skype were quickly becoming two of Blaine's favourite programs.

"Probably," Kurt agreed with a self-deprecating eye-roll. "See you then." He turned the key in the ignition and the Navigator rumbled to life.

"Bye. And thanks again for the flowers! They're beautiful." Blaine said. They were - and they smelled just as good as they looked. He put them up to his face again and inhaled. Kurt turned in his seat to look at him properly, propping his arm on the windowsill.

"You're welcome," Kurt said with a pleased smile. "I'm so proud of you, Tony. Love you," he said in a rush, barely audible over the sound of the idling engine. Blaine took Kurt's hand from where it lay slightly out the window. Lifting it to his lips he placed a kiss to the back of it.

"I love you," he answered. He squeezed Kurt's hand before releasing it and finally stepping back to give Kurt room to drive away. "See ya."

"Bye Blaine." And with that, Kurt pulled away from the curb and was gone. Blaine watched the car drive away for a few moments before heading towards the house.

With two storeys plus basement and attic, expansive back and front yards, and twice as many bedrooms as needed, his house was pointlessly large. It was a nice house, though. Blaine could appreciate the imitation classical period columns which held up the porch in front of the house's limestone façade, enjoyed the aesthetic of the neatly trimmed lawn and well-tended roses. However the shear size of the thing always felt like too much to Blaine. Still, it was home, and Blaine was glad to be out of school. He inserted the key in the front door and turned it with less force than it usually needed.

It was unlocked.

He opened the door, noted that the security alarm was off, and called out, "I'm home! Tegan?"

He could have sworn Tegan had said she'd be working until late that night. He was glad that Kurt hadn't come in now. That might've been awkward. Kurt, meet my nanny. She looks after me because my mom's dead and sometimes Dad's away for years at a time. Wanna go up to my room and make out? He'd mentioned Tegan by name before, of course, around Kurt and with the Warblers.

He'd never lied to Kurt, per se - just allowed him to make his own assumptions about his family. Kurt thought his parents were divorced and that Tegan was his stepmother - probably because Blaine had never let on that his mother had passed away, even when Kurt talked about his own mom. It was partially true: his parents hadn't been together when Blaine's mom died, though it wasn't after a divorce since they'd never been married in the first place. They'd split up when he was young though and Blaine hardly remembered it.

"Tegan? Are you here?" Putting his bag at the foot of the stairs to take up to his room later, he made his way to the kitchen.

Blaine didn't regret keeping Kurt in the dark. When they'd first met, Kurt had needed someone to be strong for him and with whom he could empathise. Sure, it was one thing they had in common, but Blaine didn't trust his ability to stay level-headed when it came to talking about that. And truthfully, Blaine didn't want dead mothers to be an subject he bonded over with anyone.

Once Kurt had found himself, gained more confidence and he and Blaine had reached that point where Blaine knew he could be vulnerable with him, there never seemed to be a good time to bring it up. Plus if Blaine talked about his mom, he'd get into a conversation about his father, something he had absolutely no intention of doing if he had a choice. I don't see him much; he lives in Wales where he works. I don't really know what he does but he pays my private school fees and put me up in a huge house which I'm sure he thinks makes up for never being around!

So he lived with Tegan, who his dad paid to look after him while he was gone, and who wasn't answering him.

"Tegan?"  This was getting weird. The door had been unlocked when he'd got home, something Tegan never let happen if she was leaving the house. She was oddly obsessive about that sort of thing; always checking the back seat before getting into a car, ensuring that the security alarm was on when no-one was home - she'd been some sort of security specialist when she worked in Wales with his dad. She didn't seem to be around, though, which was troubling.

Footsteps echoing from the back of the house made Blaine start. That wasn't Tegan! They were too heavy, too measured and conspicuous - too intimidating. Tegan walked like she'd been a ninja in a past life. He was alarmed, now. There was someone in his house! Whoever it was must've heard Blaine calling, so it was too late to pretend he wasn't there. Looking around the kitchen uneasily, he picked up a frying pan and tested its weight.

He crossed the kitchen to stand by the other door, putting the island between him and the one he'd entered through. He silently turned the door handle and pushed it open so that he could run if he needed to, then he turned back to see who was approaching. At the last second he pulled a carving knife from its holder with his free hand for good measure, though he lowered it out of view. Adrenaline rushed through his body, delivered by his frantically pounding heart, beating in double time to the footsteps that were almost at the door.

Blaine tightened his grip on the handle of the frying pan, prepared to throw it if the need arose. He wasn't stupid enough to engage an intruder in close combat, but a stainless steel projectile would be a handy distraction if he had to run. Movement at the door made his breath catch in his throat. He unconsciously stepped back into the wall.

"Blaine." Stunned, Blaine dropped his knife at the sound of his name. It slowly dawned on him who was standing there in the entrance of his kitchen. He wore the same blue shirt and braces combination as always, the same RAF coat swung behind, despite summer only just having reached its end. Same clothes, same hair, same smile, same everything. Blaine's voice, which had abandoned him since he heard the footsteps, made itself known again as he chocked out a shocked,

"Dad?"

He debated throwing the pan anyway.