Blaine was humming "Silly Love Songs" by the time he got home. Rehearsal had went really well and none of the Warblers had said anything. Wes had made a perfunctory statement at the beginning of rehearsal about how gossip was unprofessional and that video of the weekend's performance was not to be shared publicly. In his discreet way, he brushed the whole thing under the rug and kept the focus on tonight's show.

Wes is kind of amazing. I wish I was more like him.

Blaine dropped his coat on the bench and hung his suit jacket on the banister. He didn't usually get nervous before a show exactly, just kind of hyped up. He was ready.

"Hey honey, how did rehearsal go?" Mom asked, spooning soup out into two bowls at the stove.

"Fine. It's gonna be a good little show."

"Wish I'd heard about it earlier but I'm leading the book club tonight."

Blaine took his bowl of soup and sat down at the table. His mother took two glasses out of the cabinet and went to get the milk.

"Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"Finish your homework?"
"Yeah I figured Dad wouldn't let me go if I didn't so I got it done in study hall."

"So you're a free man then."

"Yeah." Blaine smiled.

Mrs. Anderson handed Blaine his glass of milk and joined him at the table.

"I heard there were some issues with the performance this weekend." She had a way of saying things like that so casually, as though they weren't dangerous topics that could result in a teenager's nightmare.

"Uh. Yeah."

"I watched it."

What?

"What?"

"On Youtube. Your father said the headmaster said it was on Youtube so I looked it up."

Oh. My. God.

"Uh. Wes' girlfriend put it up but it's been taken down you must have seen it before-"

"It looked like everyone was having a good time."

Blaine bit his lip. This was a trap. It had to be.

"W-we had some fun but... uh, we realize we didn't represent Dalton very well."

"Yes your father says your headmaster spoke with you?"

"Yeah. It- wasn't our best idea."

"It was your idea, wasn't it?"

Danger. Danger. Blaine had already tried to make his Dad believe it was the Council's idea. If either of them think I'm lying...

"Wh-what makes you think that?"

"Blaine. You're singing lead."

"I sing whatever the Council tells-"

"Blaine."

Blaine put his spoon down, fidgety. May as well just cut to the chase.

"D-dad seemed okay with-"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes." Blaine didn't look at his mother. "It was- my idea."

"Because you wanted to sing to that guy?"

Blaine swallowed. "Wh-what guy?"

"You boys weren't just goofing around. You're singing to that guy, the one I met before."

Fuck fuck fuck.

"Jeremiah." Blaine muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Jeremiah. His name is Jeremiah."

"How old is Jeremiah, Blaine?"

Blaine shrugged, admiring the floor tiles. "I think- 21, 22..."

"That's about what I figured. He's too old for you Blaine."

There was a long pause. "Age is just a number Mom."

"No, it's not. You're not going to date a 21 year old right now anymore than you're going to date a 9 year old."

"Mom, eww."

Rosalie Anderson ignored the response and pressed on. "It looked like you were... trying to get this Jeremiah's attention."

Blaine wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

"I had kind of a crush but it's- it's over now." Blaine stirred his soup, unable to look up at his mom.

"Well. I'm sorry to hear that." Blaine looked up.

"Everyone has crushes sometimes. Just- I think he seemed like a nice guy and all but I want to be clear that... your father and I are not going to be okay with you dating someone that old for a long while Blaine. I have enough to think about without worrying about you getting dragged to some college party, young man."

Blaine shifted in his seat.

"You said you liked we were friends." he defended halfheartedly.

"Sure. I have no problem with you being friends with older people who can be good role models for you, provided I've met them. Greg happened to be straight but the expectations about dating are going to be the same for you as they were for him- other high school students only until you're older."

Blaine glanced up at his mom. "Well, you don't have to worry I guess because I'm not even- real sure we're friends anymore."

Mrs. Anderson's face softened. "Sounds like it was a rough weekend. Explains a little why you were so... under the weather."

Blaine shrugged. "I thought-" he muttered quietly and then thought better of it.

"Thought what?"

Blaine bit his lip. "I thought it would be... romantic." Am I really talking to her about this?

Mrs. Anderson swallowed a smile and ate her soup. She reached her other hand over and slid it over Blaine's.

"Romance isn't a floor show honey. When you meet the right person, just... tell them what they do to your heart. You don't need all the... theatrics."

Blaine blushed and nodded, focusing on his soup.

"I kinda made a fool of myself mom."

"You'll survive."

"...Yeah."

Mrs. Anderson looked at her watch. "I've gotta get going but break a leg at your show tonight, okay? And I know I don't need to tell you what will happen if you miss your curfew. It's a school night young man."

"Yes mom, I know mom."

"Love you." Rosalie Anderson paused to kiss Blaine's cheek.

"Love you too."

Blaine watched as his mom collected her things and headed out the door. She could be annoying sometimes but she also usually had... really good advice. I really hope when the real right person comes along I don't screw it up.

Blaine's phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Kurt.

"Hey Blaine, I'm picking you up right?"

"Yeah my mom's got the car tonight."

"Great. I'll be there in fifteen minutes then."

"Awesome."

Blaine hung up, his mind now going into show-mode again. Thank God I didn't ruin my friendship with Kurt over all this. I don't know what I would do without him. He had a good feeling about tonight's show. It was kind of funny to be doing a Valentine's Day show when so many of his friends were just single and miserable. One of these days we'll get it right. Blaine put his dishes in the sink and headed back to the front door to grab his coat, ready to knock that Breadstix crowd dead.

The End.