Author: S.N. Brown
Disclaimer: I do not own. Sigh.
Author's Note: My first Klaine fic. I don't know if I like it so much, but it is what is is (some stress relief writing in between finals!). Based loosely on the five stages of grief.
All he wanted was a glass of water.
Daniel Anderson had been working all night on a case that was set to go to trial in the coming weeks, and he knew that Blaine was in the family room, probably watching a movie; Blaine had told him earlier that he was having a friend over. Daniel assumed it was Wes or David, or one of the many other friends Blaine had ushered into the house and hurriedly introduced since starting at Dalton.
He wasn't expecting to find his son on top of another boy, his shirt hanging loose, his hand running through the other boy's hair as they kissed. He wasn't expecting the moaning, or the oh, Kurt as a porcelain-colored hand slipped from view and probably did something Daniel didn't want to think about, if he was honest.
He coughed, and, like lightning, the two boys dispersed to opposite ends of the couch, all heavy panting and bright red blushes. Blaine was buttoning his shirt, glancing at Kurt every-so-often. "Dad-" he heard Blaine say, and there was something in his voice, as if he was scared of how Daniel would react to him.
Not that Daniel could truly blame him.
"I think I'm gay."
Daniel's eyes widened as he stared at his thirteen-year-old son, the boy pulling at the glue on the back of his jacket, glue that was once stuck to a bright sign that red FAG that someone put there as a joke.
"I kissed Tommy Mitchell and I liked it, Dad."
"You're not gay."
"No!" Daniel shouted, glaring at him. "No! I don't want to hear about this again. You aren't gay, you just are confused!"
He hadn't spoken to his son for two-and-a-half months after that incident. He missed all of Blaine's soccer games in that time period, and emphatically ignored him when Blaine tried to bring that topic up again. Eventually, Blaine stopped trying, and Daniel started talking, but his son was always guarded around him, and spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.
"Dad?" Blaine murmured again, and Daniel looked back up at his son. Blaine was standing in his nervous posture, one arm crossed against his chest, hand curled around the elbow of the other arm, his shoulders rigid, and his body folded in on itself as much as possible. "Dad-"
"You said you were having a friend over."
"I am. This is Kurt, Dad. He's my boyfriend."
"C'mon, Blaine, have you at least tried to date girls? Madison seems like a nice one."
Blaine rolled his eyes at his father, turning back to his book. "I don't like girls, Dad. You know that."
"How do you know until you try? Have you tried, Blaine?"
Blaine didn't answer, but Daniel could see him glaring at his book, his hands clenching around the edges. Still, he pressed on. "Just try, Blaine. One date. If you don't like it-"
He had to move fast as the book came hurtling at him. "I don't want to date Madison, Dad!"
"I thought Wes was over."
Blaine's face fell, and he shook his head. "No, Wes is in Europe with his family," he explained, glancing at Kurt. "Dad, I-"
Suddenly, the taller boy's coming past Blaine with his hand offered. "I'm Kurt," he says with a shy smile, and Daniel just stairs at the hand, so feminine, yet oh so masculine at the same time.
"You brought home the shell of a…Chevrolet?" Blaine asked, raising one eyebrow at his father as they stood in the driveway, the summer sun beating down on them.
"I thought we could put it together, and then…maybe it could be your car?" Daniel said. "Unless…unless you had plans already. With Wes. Or David. Or…someone else."
Blaine transferred to Dalton spring semester of his sophomore year after the bullying amped up at his other school. When Daniel saw the bruises on his son's sides—from where some ass had kicked him repeatedly—it was enough. At that moment, it didn't matter that Blaine was gay, that they had this huge elephant in the room with them; his fifteen-year-old son was hurting, and hurting badly, and that's all Daniel could see.
"No, Dad, I don't have plans."
And even though they built their car, and they laughed and had a good time, both of them knew that this wasn't about the bonding; it was Daniel's final attempt to turn his son straight.
It didn't work.
"Hello, Kurt," Daniel finally murmured, shaking the hand. From the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Blaine breathe out a sigh of relief, "It's good to meet you."
Good, but not nice,
"You too, Mr. Anderson. Look, I'll just…I'll be going now, if that's okay. Blaine, I'll see you tomorrow, right? You're coming to the cookout thing that Dad's planning?" Kurt glanced at Daniel, but didn't invite him.
"Or whenever, you know my dad doesn't really care. Bye." He leaned in, kissed his cheek, and hurried out of the room, giving Daniel a soft "bye" as he went towards the foyer.
That left Blaine and Daniel, staring at one another. "So that's…your boyfriend."
Blaine smiled a little, nodding. "That's Kurt."
"If you haven't gotten over that by now, then we've backtracked."
"I'm never going to have grand kids."
Blaine looked at his father as he sagged to the couch beside him, a beer in his hands. "Um…okay."
"I just realized that. I'm never going to have grand kids."
"There's this great new-fangled thing called adoption, Dad. Or Surrogacy. Someday, when I find the right guy, I can have kids."
"Blaine, I—it's not that I care anymore. I know you like boys, and I know that's all right. I just…I was really looking forward to holding my grand kids some day, and..I just in denial. I'll get out of it soon, I promise."
"Wonderful?" Blaine grinned stupidly.
"Um, not exactly-"
"Sexy?" Daniel's eyebrows rose, and Blaine's grin grew—he was teasing. "Kurt gets me, Dad."
"He seems like a good kid," Daniel whispered. "I'm glad you found someone , Blaine. And I'm glad he treats you like you should be treated."
"But, if I ever catch you two on this couch in that position again, I will lock you in your room and throw away the key and board up the windows until you're thirty. Do you understand me, young man?"
But he was smiling. He truly was happy. Blaine could tell: his father was happy for him.