Joe Anderson finally felt like he was being a good father.

Just last week, he'd worked up the courage to talk to his son about his sexuality. And as hard as it was to admit that his Blainey-boy was growing up, at least they were on the same page about the rate at which he was growing.

Joe had heaved a massive sigh of relief when Blaine told him that he and Kurt weren't ready to take the next step in their relationship. Making out was hard enough to think about without adding the possibility of sex to his tortured thoughts. It wasn't that he was homophobic, though Blaine still harbored some doubts about his ability to accept Blaine being gay.

Honestly, it wasn't even the thought of Blaine with another guy that set his teeth on edge. It was just… Blaine wasn't old enough to have sex with anyone. The world may see him as a seventeen year old boy, but Joe still saw him as the five year old who cried when he found out hand sanitizer killed 99.9% of all germs – "But, Daddy, what'll happen to all the baby germs? It won't kill baby germs, right?" – the eight year old who bounced around the house singing to Destiny's Child while Joe tried to get work done, the twelve year old who sang Joe back to sleep when he had nightmares about some homophobes killing his now clearly gay son. Joe wasn't sure Blaine even knew what he was at the time, but Joe could see it. And it terrified him.

So yeah, the thought of Blaine – tiny, sweet, compassionate Blaine – having sex with some teenage stud muffin was a little hard to swallow. The word 'swallow' conjured a whole new image in Joe's mind, one he fought to get rid of. It was alright. Blaine wasn't having sex any time soon. Joe sighed as the image of Blaine on his knees in front of some punk went away.

And then he saw it.

A Dalton tie, the kind Blaine put around his neck every day before he went to school. But this tie wasn't hanging innocently around Blaine's neck. It was hanging, dark and sinister, around the doorknob to Blaine's room.

Joe's mind slammed to a stop. Instantly, all the horrible images came back. Kurt Hummel, that little hussy, taking advantage of his precious, innocent boy. Or maybe Blaine didn't know what a tie on a doorknob meant? Maybe Blaine just wanted to be alone with Kurt, to make out or set up a duet together or talk. They were probably just talking. Just talking, please…

Joe tried the doorknob. The tie was silky and slick under his fingers, the cool fabric contrasting with the panicked heat in his chest. The door was locked. And now that he was so close, Joe could hear what was going on. The muffled, masculine grunting was unmistakable, as unmistakable as the sound of Blaine's headboard hitting his wall.

Rage pooled in Joe's chest, and before he knew it, he was knocking on the door. "Blaine? What the hell is going on?" There was no answer, just a particularly loud grunt from the boys inside the room. "Blaine, open this door, young man! I know what's going on, and I have to say, I am so disappointed in you, Blaine." Joe took a moment to pause, breathing almost as heavily as the boys were.

'Okay, Joe, think. WWBHD? What would Burt Hummel do?' Blaine's boyfriend's father was one of Joe's particular heroes. Well, he wouldn't be pounding on Kurt's door screaming like a mad man, that was for sure. No, he'd probably let the boys have their moment and address it when they were done.

"Alright, then, boys," Joe said, "I'll let you have your fun. But I want you downstairs as soon as you're finished, you understand me? Blaine, you and I are going to have a serious talk about this."

Blaine's muffled screams of ecstasy were his only answer.

Joe picked a chair from his dining room and set it at the foot of the stairs. There weren't any exits between him and Blaine's room. The boys were going to have to explain themselves sooner or later.

What hurt the most wasn't Blaine having sex. It was Blaine lying to him about it. Did he really not trust him at all? Joe knew that his relationship with his son wasn't perfect, but Blaine had never been a liar. There was no way to excuse away what he'd heard; his son was definitely no longer a virgin. So why hadn't he talked to him about this?

It was nearly twenty minutes of agonized wondering before Blaine's bedroom door creaked open.

Joe sat up straight in his chair, preparing the rant he had been coming up with the last twenty minutes. How Kurt and Blaine were good boys, but they should have waited until they were older or more committed or until Blaine had talked to him about it, at least. Did they use protection? Were either of them pressured into anything? Did Kurt's dad know what was going on?

He expected Blaine to appear first, Kurt close behind him, both boy's cheeks stained crimson with shame, but eyes bright with joy and love. Joe thought back to his first time, the excitement of being with the girl he loved for the first time, and felt his heart soften. Blaine was a good boy. He had waited for someone he was in love with. He may not have been completely honest with Joe, but their relationship was still tentative at best, so it was understandable that he wouldn't feel comfortable talking about it with him.

He had just about eliminated his rage when the figure appeared at the top of the stairs. It only took looking at the boy's face for Joe's anger to jump up to twice what it had been before. The boy wasn't what he had been expecting. It wasn't Blaine at the top of those stairs. It wasn't even Kurt. The smug face was familiar, though, the blue eyes proud and cold beneath shaggy blonde hair.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson," He said casually, his voice grating on Joe even more than his face.

"Hello, Jeremiah."