Glee fic - Courage to Take Control: Part 3 of ? (10ish I think)
Media: Fic
Type: Multi-Part
Title: Courage to Take Control: 3 of ? (10ish)
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,453 (this part)
Genre: General, Drama, Romantic bits
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine established and the focus; but most characters turn up as an ensemble
Spoilers: Nope - although obviously we’re in between s2 and s3. Suspect this might be AUish once s3 starts.
Warning: Nah I don’t reckon.
Disclaimer: I’m borrowing all the characters and universe of Glee. They’re not mine, but I’m grateful to have a little play-time with them
Summary: Blaine wants to transfer to McKinley for senior year. Kurt, of all people, is against it. This chapter, Blaine tells his parents.
[Chapter 1] | [Chapter 2]
--------------------
Chapter 3
Blaine drove around the block three times before finally pulling into the driveway at his house. His father wasn’t even home yet so he wasn’t doing it to avoid the conversation a bit longer; he just felt like once he parked and got out of that car, there would be no going back.
His Mom would be home; and exuberant with her activities of the day. She was remodelling the guest room and guest bathroom upstairs so there was a steady stream of tradesman and she was never without her scrapbook, colour palettes and sample carpets or materials. Blaine almost dreaded the daily workshop over design choices as much as he did the later conversation about transferring into the public system - he might be gay, and appreciate fine things, but he didn’t have the same passion and flair with design that his mom - or Kurt - did.
True to form, his mother appeared on the front porch, as Blaine was walking up the path through the hydrangeas in the front garden. She was talking rapidly to the interior designer who was trying his best to leave. When she saw Blaine her face broke into a big smile and she beckoned him over.
“…my son,” Blaine could hear her explaining, “has a certain appreciation for style that his father has never had.”
“Hi Mom,” Blaine said obediently, painting his standard game face on. He held out a hand to the designer and smiled. “Hi, I’m Blaine.”
“Good to meet you son,” the designer responded, “Cecilia has told me a lot about you - apparently you’re due some credit for the exquisite choices she has made for the guest bedroom.”
Blaine made various non-committal noises and made a point of looking at his watch. The designer did likewise and made his excuses to get back to his family. He nodded to Blaine as he moved towards the street to his car.
“Oh dammit,” Cecilia said as the designer drove off, “I meant to ask him about the fittings for the bathroom - what do you think Blaine? I just can’t decide between these two gold ones; I think the first is a bit garish but then combined with the colour of the tiles and muted window dressings it might be ok?”
Blaine ushered his mother inside, dropping his satchel by the front door as he did so. “I think if you like them, then you should get them,” he said simply. It wasn’t that he didn’t care - if they’d been truly horrible he would have said so - it was just that this was a never-ending process with her. Once she finished redesigning one area of the house, she moved onto another so there were constantly people tramping about, making things look different. Sure, it always looked great - but it was like they moved house every couple of months without even going anywhere. It was never home and too often a building site.
They moved into the kitchen and Blaine sat on one of the high stools around the large centre counter. He could smell a roast in the oven and spied the vegetables all chopped and ready to go - Maria, their housekeeper, must have prepared everything before she left for the day because it was way too organised to be his mom’s work.
Cecilia hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Blaine as she followed him into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She poured him a water as well and passed it over, before setting the bathroom fitting catalogue down on the bench. It was only after she had been speaking for almost 10 minutes about the intricate differences between a set of plugs that she realised there was complete silence opposite her.
“Blaine?” she asked, pausing for almost ten seconds until he realised that she was talking to him. “Everything alright honey?”
“Uh, yeah fine,” Blaine said. “Just tired. Jetlag or whatever.”
“How was… Kurt?” she asked, her voice pausing slightly over Kurt’s name.
“He’s good,” Blaine said, still distracted. He seemed to catch himself, however, and answered again. “He’s great - I missed him so much while we were away it was just nice to be able to share the same space.”
Cecilia nodded. “I’m surprised you’re back for dinner actually,” she said, “I was expecting you to call to say you were staying there. It would have been ok, you know.”
“Ummm, yeah,” Blaine raised his hand to scratch at the back of his neck nervously. “I mean no; I mean I wanted to have dinner with you and Dad tonight - and I see Maria started a roast so it would have been a waste of food without me to help you guys get through it.”
“Honey we’ve just spent three weeks on holiday together,” Cecilia said sympathetically, “you didn’t need to do that.”
“Mom, you know as well as I do we see even less of Dad than usual when we’re in Thailand,” Blaine said sharply, irritated by the fact that his father wasn’t home yet and he couldn’t get the more difficult conversation about transferring to McKinley out of the way.
“Well he works hard to make sure that you and I are taken care of!” Cecilia responded just as sharply, her eyes flashing with irritation in exactly the same way Blaine’s had. “This house, your school, your car, clothes…”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Blaine said automatically. “I just want to talk to you both about something, about my future.”
“Oh have you decided whether you want to do pre-med or pre-law?” Cecilia asked excitedly, hopping off the high counter stool and bouncing slightly on the spot in anticipation.
“Uh… kinda?” Blaine said, as if it was a question. “I need Dad to be home though so I can talk to you both together.”
“Well ok then!” Cecilia responded, with renewed vigour in her actions. “I’ll put some champagne in the fridge just in case.”
Blaine groaned inwardly and said something about being in his room before escaping up the stairs to avoid the temptation to tell his mother what was really going on - it wasn’t worth his parents getting angry at him separately; may as well do it all at the same time.
Walking past the guest room that was in mid-renovation, he navigated the short hallway to his room and smiled for a moment as he remembered Kurt’s first reaction to this house.
“But it’s so SMALL!” Kurt had said, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“What?” Blaine had responded, an eyebrow raised. “It’s a 4 bedroom house for only three people, two of whom are a couple; there are two sitting rooms, a separate dining room and a study downstairs and a studio out the back, next to the pool and tennis court. How is that small?”
“I don’t know… it’s just not as grandiose as I thought it would be,” Kurt had shrugged, a bit embarrassed by that point.
Blaine had laughed good naturedly. “Just because I’m Prince Charming doesn’t mean I actually live in a castle, you know.” He had elbowed Kurt softly, teasing him.
“I like this better than a castle,” Kurt said, “it seems like a comfortable place to live, and I love the colour scheme in the living room downstairs, as well as the lighting pattern up here.”
“Ah well you have my mom’s never ending improvements to thank for that,” Blaine had said with a soft sigh. “It’s like a completely new house year on year because she keeps redesigning or renovating. It’d be a nice place to live in if it just stayed the same house for five minutes.”
Remembering Kurt’s comments about the lighting in the hall, Blaine remarked that they were one of the few things that his mom had only done once. He supposed it was because of the disruption it had caused, as well as the unsightliness of ongoing works in a space that was so often seen by guests. Either way, he appreciated that the path to his room - his space - had not changed.
Almost as soon as Blaine had flopped down onto his bed, his favourite internet radio station playing softly from his laptop next to him, he heard his father’s car rumble into the drive. He listened to the muffled voices - his mother obviously telling his father that Blaine had “news” about his future - and begrudgingly got up from the safe cushioning of the Zero 7 track playing through his laptop speakers to head downstairs.
The dinner table in the dining room was set more formally than usual - Blaine hadn’t noticed when he got home so his mother must have quickly made some adjustments when he left the kitchen to go upstairs. Champagne glasses were set at each place - including his - and some of his mother’s endless supply of appetisers (“You just never know when so-and-so might drop in, dear!”) had appeared in the centre of the table, looking lost on the crisp white surface big enough to accommodate twelve for dinner.
Blaine walked to the kitchen to offer to help bring anything else out but was ushered back into the dining room and told to sit. His father entered the room a moment later, holding his evening staple of a Glenfiddich on ice.
“How was your day, son?” he asked, seating himself opposite Blaine, next to his wife’s place at the table.
“Fine, Dad,” Blaine said quietly, wondering all of a sudden where his voice had gone.
“I hope you did something useful today,” his father continued, not having stopped to listen to Blaine’s response. “A day wasted is a day you’ll never get back.”
“I know,” Blaine was trying to speak louder but his throat was so dry his vocal chords didn’t seem to work properly. He was still in half-croak, half-whisper territory. “And I’ve been very busy these past few weeks actually, including today. I’ve had a lot to think about - and time to do it.”
“Indeed,” his father said, taking a sharp sip from his clinking tumbler. “I hear we’re to expect an announcement tonight.”
“Of sorts,” Blaine said under his breath just as his mother breezed into the room, moving in that way she did where she looked like she was floating. She did it when she was putting on a show of perfection; something she always seemed to do when his father got home.
“Charles, darling,” Cecilia said, after pecking him on the cheek and sitting down at his side, both of them now opposite Blaine, “you weren’t going to let Blaine announce his decision without me were you?”
“Of course not dear,” Charles said smoothly. “Blaine and I were just making conversation until your lovely self arrived.”
Blaine cringed at the phrase “making conversation” and focussed on the white tablecloth in front of him as one of his fists curled into a ball. Strangers made conversation… clients made conversation… apparently in this house so did family. He breathed evenly to try to calm himself down and looked back up at his parents; both of whom were now looking at him expectantly.
“Uh Mom? Dad?” Blaine said weakly, increasingly afraid of how the conversation would turn when he revealed that in fact he hadn’t chosen either pre-law or pre-med, but had instead in fact decided to throw everything they’d offered him back in their faces and walk away from the life they’d planned for him. “Could we perhaps eat first? I’m actually pretty hungry.”
“Blaine,” Charles said sternly, “your mother has prepared a lovely spread of appetisers here and I’ve only just got my drink. This is the perfect opportunity for light discussion before we enjoy a celebratory dinner.”
Blaine wondered how celebratory the dinner would be - or whether it would be eaten at all - but nodded quickly and took a breath.
“Ok,” he said, and took a sip of water, placing the glass back on the coaster before continuing. He watched the condensation on the outside of the glass bead and dribble down to the coaster as he spoke. “Well I have been doing a lot of thinking over the summer about my future; not only for college but what I want to do with my life, who I want to be and how I want to do that. Obviously being at Dalton means I would get the best start possible and my marks are good so I’ve got a pretty good chance of getting into your old alum, Dad.” Blaine chanced a glance across the table. So far so good. They didn’t seem alarmed but were nodding encouragingly.
“The thing is,” Blaine saw the look of doubt cross both his parents’ faces, and he returned his gaze to the glass in front of him rather than meet their eyes. “I feel like the current path I’m on is someone else’s life and not mine. Everything is laid out with organised notes and tabs telling me where I need to go next, where I need to choose between option A and option B…” he looked up to his parents, who by now were looking decidedly alarmed. “What if I don’t want option A or B? Or C? Or D through K? What if I want option R? Or Q?”
“Is this about being gay, dear?” Cecilia said in a patronising tone.
“No! Of course it’s not…” Blaine realised that by saying “Option Q” he might have caused some confusion. “No absolutely not - and I was just picking random letters there.” He put his hand up, telling his parents to stay quiet, and continued. “I feel like I’ve been shut away from the real world in Dalton; like it’s in some alternate reality. It’s a wonderful, accepting, challenging and fulfilling reality that I realise I could essentially stay in through my college years and my whole adult life in some law firm… but I don’t want that. I want the real world. I want real problems, real people. And I know that means taking a lot of the bad with the good, but it’s what I want.”
“But Blaine,” Cecilia said, “life isn’t easy no matter what world you’re in. It may look like Dalton is perfect and that life would continue like that, but the same people you come up against in what you call the real world will be there as well - they just might have better manners to your face.”
Charles spoke for the first time. “What are you trying to prove with this attitude, Blaine?” His tone wasn’t angry, but his expression was serious.
Blaine thought for a moment. The question wasn’t entirely unfair. He was trying to prove something to himself; mainly that he was strong like Kurt. But he wasn’t about to answer truthfully.
“I guess I’m trying to prove to myself, and to everyone at my old school, that I haven’t been beaten and that I haven’t retreated into a privileged world where I would be protected from people like that in the future.” Blaine decided it was the moment to take the plunge and really make his announcement. “I’ve decided I want to go back to public school for senior year.”
Cecilia gasped, one hand coming to her mouth while the other fanned at her face as if she were feeling faint. Charles tightened his grip on the drink in his hand, clenching his fingers around it a couple of times before raising it to his lips and draining it in one gulp. The silence that followed these initial reactions closed in around Blaine as he looked from his father, to his mother, back to his father, and then to the table and glass in front of him.
“Blaine,” Cecilia’s voice finally broke the silence. “You can’t. I couldn’t handle it if…” she couldn’t finish the sentence and just sat there shaking her head.
“Your mother’s right,” Charles said tightly. “I will not allow you to go back to that school. Those kids, the teachers, chaperones and that damned principal should all be in jail for what happened.”
Blaine had expected these responses, and was prepared to stand firm.
“I will not go back to Dalton, and I will go to a public school this year,” he said quietly but clearly, holding his father’s eye.
“What makes you think you’ll be able to do that?” Charles asked, curious by his son’s conviction.
“Because I’m not proposing that I go back to my old school,” Blaine said. He glanced at his mother, and saw in her body language - as she sat back into her chair, leaning into the firm upholstery - that she had understood.
“He wants to go to Kurt’s school - McKinley,” she said quietly, to no-one in particular.
Blaine’s father drummed his fingers against his now-empty glass for a moment. He stood up, moved to the side table in the corner and opened the cupboard underneath it, fetching the Glenfiddich and replenishing his glass.
“I see,” he said once he had sat back at the table. “And you don’t think there could be another reason that you might want to transfer to McKinley, Blaine? One that you know isn’t a good reason at all so you’ve spent the last month thinking up another one that you thought we might agree to?”
Blaine sighed and rubbed his eyes to try to revitalise himself; it was exhausting to have the same conversation twice in one day. “If you’re referring to Kurt, then it might interest you to know that he doesn’t approve of the idea.” Blaine said, almost petulantly.
“Oh really?” Charles cocked an eyebrow, his respect for Blaine’s boyfriend instantly going up from its previous position hovering around zero. “Maybe he’s a good influence on you after all. I mean he must know that Dalton is superior academically, socially, even musically with that Warblers group you’re in.”
“Actually we lost to the McKinley Glee club at regionals last year, remember?” Blaine had also been prepared for this line of argument. “And McKinley may have some rough edges but when it comes to academic performance, it still lets the bright students shine - 3 kids in last year’s senior year got in to Ivy League schools. If I decide that’s where I want to apply I have as good a chance from McKinley as I do from Dalton.”
Charles was about to argue against that last point on several grounds but could see a familiar look in Blaine’s eye that told him it wasn’t worth it. It was the same look he saw in his own eye when he was practicing a speech in the mirror. Determination.
“I don’t agree with you, Blaine,” Charles said thoughtfully, tapping his finger on the table in front of him, “but the summer isn’t over yet so if you think you can convince me that this is a good idea, I want you to put together an argument for it. I just have to warn you now,” he stopped tapping his finger and leant forward over the table slightly. “I will not allow you to do something that will jeopardise your future or your safety. No matter how in love you think you are with that Kurt of yours.”
Blaine let his father’s comment about “that Kurt of his” slide and instead chose to focus on the fact that he had been given an opportunity: an opportunity to convince his parents about the transfer. He stood up from the table and nodded curtly, signifying like one would at a business meeting that the formal discussion was coming to a close.
“I’m going to set up a meeting for you to meet with some of the faculty at McKinley,” Blaine said, his mind ticking over with the planning and organisation required. While his father had been clear about not wanting Blaine to transfer, Blaine knew that he respect and accept a logical and compelling argument if it was presented to him. Blaine also knew that he would not give up, no matter what his father thought - he was not going to take no for an answer.
Charles nodded at Blaine’s suggestion and Cecilia mirrored the action.
“Ok then,” Blaine said, letting out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for the last couple of days. “Mom, I think I’m going to go to Kurt’s house for dinner after all, if that’s ok. Night Dad.”
Before either of them could respond Blaine had picked up his satchel from its place next to the front door and was on his way to his car. He knew he wouldn’t make it to Kurt’s place in time for dinner, but “anywhere but home” seemed like a good place to be. And besides, he needed Kurt’s help to win over his parents.
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[Chapter 4]
Author’s Note: The brush strokes are starting to form a good picture now - next time Blaine sets about putting his plan into action.
Type: Multi-Part
Title: Courage to Take Control: 3 of ? (10ish)
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,453 (this part)
Genre: General, Drama, Romantic bits
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine established and the focus; but most characters turn up as an ensemble
Spoilers: Nope - although obviously we’re in between s2 and s3. Suspect this might be AUish once s3 starts.
Warning: Nah I don’t reckon.
Disclaimer: I’m borrowing all the characters and universe of Glee. They’re not mine, but I’m grateful to have a little play-time with them
Summary: Blaine wants to transfer to McKinley for senior year. Kurt, of all people, is against it. This chapter, Blaine tells his parents.
[Chapter 1] | [Chapter 2]
--------------------
Chapter 3
Blaine drove around the block three times before finally pulling into the driveway at his house. His father wasn’t even home yet so he wasn’t doing it to avoid the conversation a bit longer; he just felt like once he parked and got out of that car, there would be no going back.
His Mom would be home; and exuberant with her activities of the day. She was remodelling the guest room and guest bathroom upstairs so there was a steady stream of tradesman and she was never without her scrapbook, colour palettes and sample carpets or materials. Blaine almost dreaded the daily workshop over design choices as much as he did the later conversation about transferring into the public system - he might be gay, and appreciate fine things, but he didn’t have the same passion and flair with design that his mom - or Kurt - did.
True to form, his mother appeared on the front porch, as Blaine was walking up the path through the hydrangeas in the front garden. She was talking rapidly to the interior designer who was trying his best to leave. When she saw Blaine her face broke into a big smile and she beckoned him over.
“…my son,” Blaine could hear her explaining, “has a certain appreciation for style that his father has never had.”
“Hi Mom,” Blaine said obediently, painting his standard game face on. He held out a hand to the designer and smiled. “Hi, I’m Blaine.”
“Good to meet you son,” the designer responded, “Cecilia has told me a lot about you - apparently you’re due some credit for the exquisite choices she has made for the guest bedroom.”
Blaine made various non-committal noises and made a point of looking at his watch. The designer did likewise and made his excuses to get back to his family. He nodded to Blaine as he moved towards the street to his car.
“Oh dammit,” Cecilia said as the designer drove off, “I meant to ask him about the fittings for the bathroom - what do you think Blaine? I just can’t decide between these two gold ones; I think the first is a bit garish but then combined with the colour of the tiles and muted window dressings it might be ok?”
Blaine ushered his mother inside, dropping his satchel by the front door as he did so. “I think if you like them, then you should get them,” he said simply. It wasn’t that he didn’t care - if they’d been truly horrible he would have said so - it was just that this was a never-ending process with her. Once she finished redesigning one area of the house, she moved onto another so there were constantly people tramping about, making things look different. Sure, it always looked great - but it was like they moved house every couple of months without even going anywhere. It was never home and too often a building site.
They moved into the kitchen and Blaine sat on one of the high stools around the large centre counter. He could smell a roast in the oven and spied the vegetables all chopped and ready to go - Maria, their housekeeper, must have prepared everything before she left for the day because it was way too organised to be his mom’s work.
Cecilia hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Blaine as she followed him into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She poured him a water as well and passed it over, before setting the bathroom fitting catalogue down on the bench. It was only after she had been speaking for almost 10 minutes about the intricate differences between a set of plugs that she realised there was complete silence opposite her.
“Blaine?” she asked, pausing for almost ten seconds until he realised that she was talking to him. “Everything alright honey?”
“Uh, yeah fine,” Blaine said. “Just tired. Jetlag or whatever.”
“How was… Kurt?” she asked, her voice pausing slightly over Kurt’s name.
“He’s good,” Blaine said, still distracted. He seemed to catch himself, however, and answered again. “He’s great - I missed him so much while we were away it was just nice to be able to share the same space.”
Cecilia nodded. “I’m surprised you’re back for dinner actually,” she said, “I was expecting you to call to say you were staying there. It would have been ok, you know.”
“Ummm, yeah,” Blaine raised his hand to scratch at the back of his neck nervously. “I mean no; I mean I wanted to have dinner with you and Dad tonight - and I see Maria started a roast so it would have been a waste of food without me to help you guys get through it.”
“Honey we’ve just spent three weeks on holiday together,” Cecilia said sympathetically, “you didn’t need to do that.”
“Mom, you know as well as I do we see even less of Dad than usual when we’re in Thailand,” Blaine said sharply, irritated by the fact that his father wasn’t home yet and he couldn’t get the more difficult conversation about transferring to McKinley out of the way.
“Well he works hard to make sure that you and I are taken care of!” Cecilia responded just as sharply, her eyes flashing with irritation in exactly the same way Blaine’s had. “This house, your school, your car, clothes…”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Blaine said automatically. “I just want to talk to you both about something, about my future.”
“Oh have you decided whether you want to do pre-med or pre-law?” Cecilia asked excitedly, hopping off the high counter stool and bouncing slightly on the spot in anticipation.
“Uh… kinda?” Blaine said, as if it was a question. “I need Dad to be home though so I can talk to you both together.”
“Well ok then!” Cecilia responded, with renewed vigour in her actions. “I’ll put some champagne in the fridge just in case.”
Blaine groaned inwardly and said something about being in his room before escaping up the stairs to avoid the temptation to tell his mother what was really going on - it wasn’t worth his parents getting angry at him separately; may as well do it all at the same time.
Walking past the guest room that was in mid-renovation, he navigated the short hallway to his room and smiled for a moment as he remembered Kurt’s first reaction to this house.
“But it’s so SMALL!” Kurt had said, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“What?” Blaine had responded, an eyebrow raised. “It’s a 4 bedroom house for only three people, two of whom are a couple; there are two sitting rooms, a separate dining room and a study downstairs and a studio out the back, next to the pool and tennis court. How is that small?”
“I don’t know… it’s just not as grandiose as I thought it would be,” Kurt had shrugged, a bit embarrassed by that point.
Blaine had laughed good naturedly. “Just because I’m Prince Charming doesn’t mean I actually live in a castle, you know.” He had elbowed Kurt softly, teasing him.
“I like this better than a castle,” Kurt said, “it seems like a comfortable place to live, and I love the colour scheme in the living room downstairs, as well as the lighting pattern up here.”
“Ah well you have my mom’s never ending improvements to thank for that,” Blaine had said with a soft sigh. “It’s like a completely new house year on year because she keeps redesigning or renovating. It’d be a nice place to live in if it just stayed the same house for five minutes.”
Remembering Kurt’s comments about the lighting in the hall, Blaine remarked that they were one of the few things that his mom had only done once. He supposed it was because of the disruption it had caused, as well as the unsightliness of ongoing works in a space that was so often seen by guests. Either way, he appreciated that the path to his room - his space - had not changed.
Almost as soon as Blaine had flopped down onto his bed, his favourite internet radio station playing softly from his laptop next to him, he heard his father’s car rumble into the drive. He listened to the muffled voices - his mother obviously telling his father that Blaine had “news” about his future - and begrudgingly got up from the safe cushioning of the Zero 7 track playing through his laptop speakers to head downstairs.
The dinner table in the dining room was set more formally than usual - Blaine hadn’t noticed when he got home so his mother must have quickly made some adjustments when he left the kitchen to go upstairs. Champagne glasses were set at each place - including his - and some of his mother’s endless supply of appetisers (“You just never know when so-and-so might drop in, dear!”) had appeared in the centre of the table, looking lost on the crisp white surface big enough to accommodate twelve for dinner.
Blaine walked to the kitchen to offer to help bring anything else out but was ushered back into the dining room and told to sit. His father entered the room a moment later, holding his evening staple of a Glenfiddich on ice.
“How was your day, son?” he asked, seating himself opposite Blaine, next to his wife’s place at the table.
“Fine, Dad,” Blaine said quietly, wondering all of a sudden where his voice had gone.
“I hope you did something useful today,” his father continued, not having stopped to listen to Blaine’s response. “A day wasted is a day you’ll never get back.”
“I know,” Blaine was trying to speak louder but his throat was so dry his vocal chords didn’t seem to work properly. He was still in half-croak, half-whisper territory. “And I’ve been very busy these past few weeks actually, including today. I’ve had a lot to think about - and time to do it.”
“Indeed,” his father said, taking a sharp sip from his clinking tumbler. “I hear we’re to expect an announcement tonight.”
“Of sorts,” Blaine said under his breath just as his mother breezed into the room, moving in that way she did where she looked like she was floating. She did it when she was putting on a show of perfection; something she always seemed to do when his father got home.
“Charles, darling,” Cecilia said, after pecking him on the cheek and sitting down at his side, both of them now opposite Blaine, “you weren’t going to let Blaine announce his decision without me were you?”
“Of course not dear,” Charles said smoothly. “Blaine and I were just making conversation until your lovely self arrived.”
Blaine cringed at the phrase “making conversation” and focussed on the white tablecloth in front of him as one of his fists curled into a ball. Strangers made conversation… clients made conversation… apparently in this house so did family. He breathed evenly to try to calm himself down and looked back up at his parents; both of whom were now looking at him expectantly.
“Uh Mom? Dad?” Blaine said weakly, increasingly afraid of how the conversation would turn when he revealed that in fact he hadn’t chosen either pre-law or pre-med, but had instead in fact decided to throw everything they’d offered him back in their faces and walk away from the life they’d planned for him. “Could we perhaps eat first? I’m actually pretty hungry.”
“Blaine,” Charles said sternly, “your mother has prepared a lovely spread of appetisers here and I’ve only just got my drink. This is the perfect opportunity for light discussion before we enjoy a celebratory dinner.”
Blaine wondered how celebratory the dinner would be - or whether it would be eaten at all - but nodded quickly and took a breath.
“Ok,” he said, and took a sip of water, placing the glass back on the coaster before continuing. He watched the condensation on the outside of the glass bead and dribble down to the coaster as he spoke. “Well I have been doing a lot of thinking over the summer about my future; not only for college but what I want to do with my life, who I want to be and how I want to do that. Obviously being at Dalton means I would get the best start possible and my marks are good so I’ve got a pretty good chance of getting into your old alum, Dad.” Blaine chanced a glance across the table. So far so good. They didn’t seem alarmed but were nodding encouragingly.
“The thing is,” Blaine saw the look of doubt cross both his parents’ faces, and he returned his gaze to the glass in front of him rather than meet their eyes. “I feel like the current path I’m on is someone else’s life and not mine. Everything is laid out with organised notes and tabs telling me where I need to go next, where I need to choose between option A and option B…” he looked up to his parents, who by now were looking decidedly alarmed. “What if I don’t want option A or B? Or C? Or D through K? What if I want option R? Or Q?”
“Is this about being gay, dear?” Cecilia said in a patronising tone.
“No! Of course it’s not…” Blaine realised that by saying “Option Q” he might have caused some confusion. “No absolutely not - and I was just picking random letters there.” He put his hand up, telling his parents to stay quiet, and continued. “I feel like I’ve been shut away from the real world in Dalton; like it’s in some alternate reality. It’s a wonderful, accepting, challenging and fulfilling reality that I realise I could essentially stay in through my college years and my whole adult life in some law firm… but I don’t want that. I want the real world. I want real problems, real people. And I know that means taking a lot of the bad with the good, but it’s what I want.”
“But Blaine,” Cecilia said, “life isn’t easy no matter what world you’re in. It may look like Dalton is perfect and that life would continue like that, but the same people you come up against in what you call the real world will be there as well - they just might have better manners to your face.”
Charles spoke for the first time. “What are you trying to prove with this attitude, Blaine?” His tone wasn’t angry, but his expression was serious.
Blaine thought for a moment. The question wasn’t entirely unfair. He was trying to prove something to himself; mainly that he was strong like Kurt. But he wasn’t about to answer truthfully.
“I guess I’m trying to prove to myself, and to everyone at my old school, that I haven’t been beaten and that I haven’t retreated into a privileged world where I would be protected from people like that in the future.” Blaine decided it was the moment to take the plunge and really make his announcement. “I’ve decided I want to go back to public school for senior year.”
Cecilia gasped, one hand coming to her mouth while the other fanned at her face as if she were feeling faint. Charles tightened his grip on the drink in his hand, clenching his fingers around it a couple of times before raising it to his lips and draining it in one gulp. The silence that followed these initial reactions closed in around Blaine as he looked from his father, to his mother, back to his father, and then to the table and glass in front of him.
“Blaine,” Cecilia’s voice finally broke the silence. “You can’t. I couldn’t handle it if…” she couldn’t finish the sentence and just sat there shaking her head.
“Your mother’s right,” Charles said tightly. “I will not allow you to go back to that school. Those kids, the teachers, chaperones and that damned principal should all be in jail for what happened.”
Blaine had expected these responses, and was prepared to stand firm.
“I will not go back to Dalton, and I will go to a public school this year,” he said quietly but clearly, holding his father’s eye.
“What makes you think you’ll be able to do that?” Charles asked, curious by his son’s conviction.
“Because I’m not proposing that I go back to my old school,” Blaine said. He glanced at his mother, and saw in her body language - as she sat back into her chair, leaning into the firm upholstery - that she had understood.
“He wants to go to Kurt’s school - McKinley,” she said quietly, to no-one in particular.
Blaine’s father drummed his fingers against his now-empty glass for a moment. He stood up, moved to the side table in the corner and opened the cupboard underneath it, fetching the Glenfiddich and replenishing his glass.
“I see,” he said once he had sat back at the table. “And you don’t think there could be another reason that you might want to transfer to McKinley, Blaine? One that you know isn’t a good reason at all so you’ve spent the last month thinking up another one that you thought we might agree to?”
Blaine sighed and rubbed his eyes to try to revitalise himself; it was exhausting to have the same conversation twice in one day. “If you’re referring to Kurt, then it might interest you to know that he doesn’t approve of the idea.” Blaine said, almost petulantly.
“Oh really?” Charles cocked an eyebrow, his respect for Blaine’s boyfriend instantly going up from its previous position hovering around zero. “Maybe he’s a good influence on you after all. I mean he must know that Dalton is superior academically, socially, even musically with that Warblers group you’re in.”
“Actually we lost to the McKinley Glee club at regionals last year, remember?” Blaine had also been prepared for this line of argument. “And McKinley may have some rough edges but when it comes to academic performance, it still lets the bright students shine - 3 kids in last year’s senior year got in to Ivy League schools. If I decide that’s where I want to apply I have as good a chance from McKinley as I do from Dalton.”
Charles was about to argue against that last point on several grounds but could see a familiar look in Blaine’s eye that told him it wasn’t worth it. It was the same look he saw in his own eye when he was practicing a speech in the mirror. Determination.
“I don’t agree with you, Blaine,” Charles said thoughtfully, tapping his finger on the table in front of him, “but the summer isn’t over yet so if you think you can convince me that this is a good idea, I want you to put together an argument for it. I just have to warn you now,” he stopped tapping his finger and leant forward over the table slightly. “I will not allow you to do something that will jeopardise your future or your safety. No matter how in love you think you are with that Kurt of yours.”
Blaine let his father’s comment about “that Kurt of his” slide and instead chose to focus on the fact that he had been given an opportunity: an opportunity to convince his parents about the transfer. He stood up from the table and nodded curtly, signifying like one would at a business meeting that the formal discussion was coming to a close.
“I’m going to set up a meeting for you to meet with some of the faculty at McKinley,” Blaine said, his mind ticking over with the planning and organisation required. While his father had been clear about not wanting Blaine to transfer, Blaine knew that he respect and accept a logical and compelling argument if it was presented to him. Blaine also knew that he would not give up, no matter what his father thought - he was not going to take no for an answer.
Charles nodded at Blaine’s suggestion and Cecilia mirrored the action.
“Ok then,” Blaine said, letting out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for the last couple of days. “Mom, I think I’m going to go to Kurt’s house for dinner after all, if that’s ok. Night Dad.”
Before either of them could respond Blaine had picked up his satchel from its place next to the front door and was on his way to his car. He knew he wouldn’t make it to Kurt’s place in time for dinner, but “anywhere but home” seemed like a good place to be. And besides, he needed Kurt’s help to win over his parents.
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[Chapter 4]
Author’s Note: The brush strokes are starting to form a good picture now - next time Blaine sets about putting his plan into action.