1

Blaine studied his reflection in his bathroom mirror. He looked good, he supposed. His black curls were lightly gelled (he was planning on adding more later) and his face was clean-shaven. His old Dalton blazer from two years ago still fit for the most part, although now it was a bit tight through the shoulders. He was the picture of a normal, carefree seventeen-year-old boy, he thought, and anyone who didn't know his story would have thought he was.

He smiled half-heartedly at the kid looking back at him in the mirror. It had been a long time since he'd looked this put-together.

Okay, so maybe a party with his old friends in the dorm at Dalton wasn't really a huge occasion to get gussied up for, but when a kid gets out as seldom as Blaine did, he takes any excuse he can find to try to look and feel like a normal teenager. Even if it's only for a little while.

Still, he was glad his friends had invited him back for the annual Warblers' Valentine's Day party. Their new lead soloist, Nick, apparently had a family emergency and needed to go home for the weekend, so they wanted Blaine to fill in. Wes had called him to beg him.

"Come on, dude. We need you tonight. We've been working on this arrangement forever and everyone's so in sync with their parts that moving anyone else to the lead would throw us all off," his best friend has said over the phone earlier that afternoon.

"Wes," Blaine had countered, "any one of you guys could rock a lead solo. Why would you ask me? I don't even go there. I haven't for almost two years."

"Blaine, once a Warbler always a Warbler, right?"

Blaine smiled a little into the phone. "Right," he conceded.

"Right. So, we put it to a vote. All the guys decided we would love for you come back and sing with us tonight. This would have been your senior year Valentine's Party, dude. We don't want you to miss out on it."

Blaine sighed. "You guys are way too nice to me."

"You're our friend. We just want you to be happy. And we know you'd be way happier signing Katy Perry with us on a Friday night than stewing away yet another weekend alone in the Anderson Estate."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up in intrigue. "Katy Perry?"

Wes laughed. "I knew that detail would catch your interest."

"Well played, Montgomery. Fine. Looks like you've got yourself a lead."

"Awesome! You can stay the night in David's and my room. If you don't mind the floor…"

"That's fine, Wes. I'll get over there as soon as I can get away."

Now, at six pm, Blaine smiled to himself again in front of his mirror. He tightened the old blue and red striped tie into place and an immediate sense of pride come over him. It felt good to be going back. After dropping his grandfather's antique pocket watch into his blazer's breast pocket (he carried the device practically everywhere), he set about straightening his shirt collar to perfection.

"Blaine Carter!" his father's voice bellowed from downstairs.

Blaine winced at his father's use of his middle name. Over the years, the sound of his full name being yelled had become like a whip across his back. He knew that when he heard it, Cooper Anderson Sr. meant business.

He immediately left the bathroom, knowing from tons of experience that when his father called, especially in that tone, that he'd better come running. Before he'd even reached the top of the staircase, though, the earsplitting wail he was dreading rang out. Blaine gasped in slight panic when he realized the sound was coming from his father's office at the bottom of the stairs.

"Shit, " he murmured under his breath, already anticipating what had happened before he saw it.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned into the mahogany office and was met with pretty much the sight he'd been expecting. His father stood in the middle of the room, stern expression unwavering. And clutched in his right arm, the little curly-haired toddler was shrieking like there was no tomorrow. Blaine's eyes wandered to his father's other hand, where he saw that he was holding a rather soggy-looking yellow legal pad.

"Care to explain how this happened?" Mr. Anderson asked his son, raising his voice in order to be heard over the squirming child's incessant cries. "I just walked in here looking for information on the Johnson case and I found him chewing on my notes."

"Sorry, Dad," Blaine answered, now crossing the room and holding out his arms to take the hysteric one and half-year-old. "He was napping in the living room when I went upstairs."

The baby did not calm once he was transferred into Blaine's arms. He merely spun his curly head around and started screaming louder and making grabby hands toward the drool-soaked legal pad in Mr. Anderson's hand.

"Oliver Anderson Smythe," Blaine chastised, bouncing the little boy in his arms in an attempt to distract him from the confiscated plaything. He winced when the squirming baby just wailed louder directly into his ear. He figured that after living this long with a baby in the house, he would have gotten used to the deafening screams, but they still never failed to irritate the crap out of him. Especially when he was already stressing over his first performance in two years. "Shh, Ollie. You're not supposed to play in here, Buddy." Blaine turned his attention back to his dad. "Did he ruin anything important?"

Mr. Anderson rolled his eyes dramatically. "All my notes and papers are important, Blaine. I keep vital information about my clients in here. That's why I asked you to keep him out of my office."

"I know, Dad. I'm sorry. It's just been getting hard to keep up with him now that he's learned to climb over the baby gates."

"Paaaay-pah!" the distraught toddler whined, still reaching for the pad. "Pay-pah, Dada!"

"No, Ollie. We don't play with Grandpa's papers."

Another distressed wail.

Mr. Anderson crossed his arms. "You know, he always stops crying immediately whenever Sebastian holds him," he remarked coolly.

Blaine had to bite his tongue to keep from rattling off a snarky remark back at him. This was a practice he'd become quite used to with his father, especially over the past two years. Blaine loved his dad, he really did, but his constant criticism and relentless judgment of every area of his life made him, well, difficult to live with.

"Yeah, well, how often do you actually ever see Seb hold him, Dad? He only sees him every two weeks, if that." Blaine waited until he turned away from the man to roll his eyes.

It was the worst whenever his father tried to make Sebastian out to be some kind of saint. Ever since Ollie was born, Mr. Anderson had become so sickeningly 'Team-Sebastian' that it seemed borderline psychotic. Never mind the fact that this was the same cocky, immature, promiscuous guy who'd knocked up his youngest son at fifteen. Mr. Anderson still seemed to want nothing more than to see Blaine finally give in and marry him, actual feelings toward the guy be damned.

Blaine proceeded to carry his sobbing son back across the formal foyer to the toy-littered living room. "Speaking of which," he added over his shoulder, "your ideal son-in-law was supposed to be here over an hour ago to pick him up for the weekend."

Blaine heard his father move to follow him. "Well, what's keeping him?"

"I don't know, Dad," he replied incredulously, now stepping carefully over the plastic baby gate into the living room. "You think he ever bothers to tell me why he does anything?" He lowered himself down onto the carpeted floor and settled Ollie into his lap, bouncing him on his knee.

Blaine looked around at what toys were lying within his reach while he struggled to maintain his grip on the struggling toddler. "Hold still, Buddy. You're gonna wrinkle Daddy's blazer." He reached out and grabbed the stuffed animal to his right.

Oliver immediately quieted when Blaine shook his favorite blue panda in front of him. The little boy seemed to forget all about the delicious legal pad he'd been chewing on and reached out his chubby hands for the stuffed panda. Blaine breathed a sigh of relief when his son took the bait and his enormous, adorable smile overtook his round face once again.

A matching smile grew over Blaine's own face. He always thought that the joy he felt when he saw his son smile made all his crying worth it.

Oliver immediately brought the animal to his mouth and started sucking on its leg, finally ceasing his squirming. He rested his curly head peacefully on his father's chest. Blaine squeezed the little boy a bit tighter to himself. He loved how cuddly his son could be when he wasn't exercising his apparently well-endowed vocal cords.

Then Mr. Anderson spoke again.

"Well you need to make a better effort to communicate with him, Blaine. You two are going to be together for the rest of your lives."

Blaine's head snapped over to where his father stood in the doorway of the room. "We are not together," he said icily.

The elder Anderson shrugged. "For now," he said, his mouth morphing into a knowing smirk.

Blaine let out an exasperated sigh. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

"Anyway," his dad segued, sensing he was close to setting off yet another verbal landmine with his youngest boy and deciding he didn't have the energy to deal with it, "your mother and I are about to head to the benefit. Are you two going to be alright until Sebastian gets here?"

"Yes, Dad," Blaine answered tightly, really trying not to explode into a tirade about how he obviously knew how to care for his own son by himself, since he'd been doing it for the past year and a half.

He honestly didn't mind that too much, though. The taking care of Oliver mostly by himself, that is. He really did believe that Ollie should be his responsibility when he was home and not his parents'. Plus, he already knew he didn't want his parents' overbearing, judgmental parenting style influencing Ollie too much. He just wished that they would show some acknowledgement of how hard he worked to care for his son. How he had practically never left the house since he brought his tiny son home from the hospital, no matter how much normal teenage activity he missed out on. It always just seemed like no matter how much of his youth he sacrificed, it wasn't enough for them. Like they always wanted more out of him. Especially his dad.

"We'll be fine," he added weakly, deciding to just humor his father until he left and got out of his hair for the night.

"Blaine, dear?" his mother's melodic voice jingled from the hallway. "Did you pack Oliver's baby bag?" The petite Filipino woman appeared next to her tall, broad-shouldered husband in the doorway to the living room. She was in the middle of putting in a glittery, dangling diamond earring as she looked at Blaine expectantly.

"Yeah, Mom. It's in the kitchen."

She nodded. "Where in the heck is Prince Charming anyway?" she said, a sarcastic smile pulling at her lips.

Blaine couldn't help but smile as well. He had never appreciated his mother's sense of humor more than in the past two years. Sometimes her ability to sit back and laugh at life was just what he needed to be able to look at the bright side of his significantly harder-than-it-should-have-been life.

He was also eternally grateful that she wasn't fooled by Sebastian's cheesy parent-pleasing guise. She saw how much unnecessary drama and pain he put Blaine through with his selfish, irresponsible, and sometimes reckless actions, and although she would rather they be together for Oliver's sake, she seemed to understand that he couldn't make Blaine happy. Blaine knew that if it weren't for her convincing his dad, he would have been forced to go through with marrying Sebastian long ago. And he loved her for saving him.

"I have no idea," Blaine answered. "He's not answering his phone. He'd better get here soon, though. I told the guys I'd be at Dalton in time to run through the performance for the party before we go on."

Mr. Anderson cut Blaine off with a sudden cough, in his classic, passive-aggressive style. The man continued to cough lightly, trying to pass the interruption off as clearing his throat.

"I'm going to go start the car, Maria," he said stiffly. Then he turned and headed through the spacious kitchen toward the garage.

Mrs. Anderson just shook her head.

Blaine frowned. "He still really doesn't like me performing, does he?"

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart," his mother reassured him. "The Warblers have been your friends for four years now, and if performing with them is what makes you happy, then you should do it. You have a real gift, baby."

Blaine smiled at his mother's encouragement. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. Now bring me that baby so I can say goodbye!"

Blaine clutched Oliver to his side and stood, hoisting the OshKosh-clad boy up so he was settled on his hip. "Let's tell Grandma bye-bye!" he said, walking over toward his mother.

"Gam-ma!" Oliver squealed excitedly when the woman reached out to take him in her arms for a tight hug.

"Oh my sweet boy!" she exclaimed as she squeezed her grandson. "What is Grandma supposed to do for a whole weekend while you go play with Papa? Your daddy's nowhere near as much fun as you!"

"Hey, I resent that," Blaine pouted. "Ollie, say bye-bye to Grandma so she can go spend exorbitant amounts of money on some charity she knows nothing about."

His mother faked an offended look. "I resent that! I know all about the Heller Foundation for Literacy. Or for medical research. Or was it Siberian Tigers? Oh whatever. Your father's making me go." She stuck her tongue out at her son.

Blaine laughed.

"Oooh!" Ollie proclaimed, getting his dad and grandma's attention. The toddler then proceeded to stick his little tongue out at Blaine like he'd just witnessed.

Blaine gasped. "Mom! Look what you've just started!" He tried and failed to sound stern, dissolving into a fit of laughter at his son's new trick.

Mrs. Anderson joined in her son's laughter immediately. "He's like a sponge!" she said. "I really don't know he picks these things up so quickly."

Blaine just shrugged. "I make smart babies."

His mother chuckled. "Well, please, no more for a while, okay?"

He snorted a laugh. "Trust me, you do not have to worry about that any time soon."

She smiled at her youngest son although just a hint of sadness was present in her eyes. Blaine could always see it there when she looked at him. He knew what she was thinking: Oh my poor baby boy- still so young, but already so old. He hoped his own eyes didn't betray that same sadness.

"Alright, well I'd better get going before your dad starts laying on the horn." She reached a hand out to tickle Oliver's side lightly. The little boy squealed with delight, his huge smile taking over his face, ear to ear. "Bye-bye my love," she said, ceasing her tickling and planting a kiss in her grandson's curly dark hair. "And you have fun tonight, Blaine. I want you to let loose a little, okay? Don't spend the whole party hunched in a corner missing your baby. You're a teenager and tonight I want you to act like it."

Blaine laughed softly, stepping forward to take Oliver back from her and settling him back against his hip as per usual. "Thanks, Mom. I'll try. And I'll see you tomorrow when I get back." He turned to Ollie. "Wave to Grandma," he instructed the boy, waving to his mother in demonstration as she moved toward the garage door.

Ollie lifted his chubby hand and waved it at her, still smiling wide. "Buh-bye!" he chimed happily.

Mrs. Anderson blew both her boys a kiss before she slipped out the door.

Twenty minutes and three unanswered texts to Sebastian later found Blaine pacing the kitchen while Ollie sat in his highchair. The toddler was happily nibbling on a cinnamon graham cracker, completely oblivious to his father's seething anger.

Blaine reached into his pants pocket to take out his iPhone once again and

let out an exasperated grumble when he saw the time flashing on the screen. He was supposed to have been at Dalton forty minutes ago.

With another eye roll and mumbled profanities under his breath, Blaine typed out an apologetic text to Wes and then angrily pulled up Sebastian's number and hit the "Call" button.

Voicemail.

"Figures," Blaine said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he listened to the familiar sound Sebastian's recorded message. At the beep, Blaine spoke. "It's me. Where are you? You'd better be on your way, because I have got to go like now or I'm going to miss the kick-off performance for the party. I need you to help me out here."

He paused, sighing and leaning on the granite countertop. He couldn't help but feel pretty much pathetic in that moment. There he was, a seventeen-year-old father out of wedlock, whining to his baby-daddy on the phone like one of those MTV specials.

Sometimes, since becoming a father, he couldn't help but feel pretty pathetic. But then it would always become clear to him, as it was now, that he didn't regret Ollie. He could never regret Ollie. He regretted Sebastian. He was only pathetic for ever having fallen for Sebastian Smythe.

"Just please get here soon. Your son misses you. Bye," he concluded into the phone. He tapped the "End Call" button a bit too forcefully and let his head hang back as he took deep, calming breaths. This was not the type of drama he needed a mere hour and a half before his first performance in so long.

Blaine had always adored music and performing. He'd known for sure that he wanted to make music his future since he joined the Warblers his freshman year at Dalton and then been promoted all the way to being their front man by his sophomore. The pure joy he got from singing and playing music had only been paralleled one other time in his life. That was on a hot August day, the day that would have been the first day of his junior year at Dalton, eighteen months prior when a nurse had handed him his newborn son after twenty-one hours of painful, complicated labor.

For the past few months, the floor of his bedroom had been littered with various pamphlets from Music Education departments of colleges across the country. He wanted to teach music, and he wanted to do it far, far away from Westerville, Ohio. He needed to get himself and Ollie out of his parents' house and he needed to start his own life.

Too bad it would most likely never happen. Not when his father wouldn't support it. Not when the set plan was still that he was supposed to marry Sebastian and stay in Westerville so Sebastian could support him by working for Mr. Anderson in his law firm.

Blaine continued his pacing, growing more and more agitated with every step. "Where are you? Where are you? C'mon Sebastian you stupid son of a…" he bit his tongue, barely catching the profanity on his lips. Like his mother had said, Ollie was like a word-sponge lately, and Blaine certainly did not need him picking up any new phrases. God knew he was probably already learning plenty from his other father.

"Where is your Papa?" he asked his son.

Ollie just tilted his head in curiosity, a mess of graham cracker crumbs hanging from his lips.

Ding-Dong!

"Finally!" Blaine exclaimed, making an immediate beeline for the front entryway.

He pulled open the heavy oak front door to find his ex standing there with his seemingly permanent, condescending smirk firmly in place. Blaine vaguely remembered a time when he thought that smirk was mysterious and sexy. Now he just kind of wanted to punch it. An ice-cold chill flooded into the room around Sebastian, and Blaine shivered. He wasn't sure if was from the cold February air or from the icy aura his ex seemed to exude.

"Where have you been?!"

The smirk just grew more pronounced. "It's nice to see you too, Bee."

"Don't call me Bee. Come in while I put his coat on." Blaine turned and headed to the coat closet, leaving the front door wide open for Sebastian.

The tall, lithe college sophomore stepped inside. "You love it when I call you Bee." He watched Blaine retrieve the tiny, blue puff jacket out of the closet and allowed his eyes to wander down the younger boy's body, pausing his evaluation at how the now snug Dalton pants hugged his ex's muscular legs in all the right places. Sebastian still marveled at how much Blaine was filling out this year. "Oh, Blaine, feeling nostalgic, Sweetheart? You didn't need to dress up for me."

Blaine just rolled his eyes, not dignifying the comment with an answer, and disappeared down the hall to get Oliver.

"But I'm glad you did!" Sebastian yelled after him, chuckling to himself in his usual self-satisfied way.

Blaine reappeared a moment later with an armful of squirming, blue puff jacket and the baby bag slung over his shoulder.

"It's the Jolly Ollie Man!" Sebastian exclaimed, smiling hugely and approaching Blaine with his arms outstretched.

Oliver turned in Blaine's arms to look at the source of the sound. His green eyes immediately went huge with excitement when he saw his other father. "Papaaa!" the little boy squealed, reaching his arms back at Sebastian. "Dada, it Papa!" he said to Blaine.

Blaine managed a weak smile for his son's sake. "I know, Buddy. You ready to go with Papa?"

Oliver was now making grabby hands vehemently in Sebastian's direction. The taller boy swooped in and swiped the toddler out of Blaine's arms. Then he lifted him over his head and zoomed the boy around the room like an airplane for a few moments before planting him firmly on his shoulders, much to his giggling son's delight.

Blaine couldn't help the immediate wave of sadness that came over him the second the boy left his arms. It was becoming a familiar sensation whenever Sebastian picked him up for a weekend.

"Can I talk to you for a minute while we put him in the car?" Blaine asked.

Intrigued, Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Sure thing."

After shrugging on his own winter coat, Blaine led the way out the door into the dark February chill and down the Anderson's long driveway. He got to Sebastian's black Porsche Cayenne Turbo S, opened the backseat, placed the baby bag inside, and then turned to Sebastian. "Why do you keep doing this? You said you would be here almost two hours ago."

Sebastian looked taken aback for moment. "Chill, will you? I had a test in my last class and it ran over time. Then I hit traffic on I-71. Friday rush hour. I would have called, but you wouldn't want me on the phone while driving, would you?" He asked in a patronizing tone. Then he moved past Blaine and brought Oliver down from his shoulders. He placed him in the car seat and then straightened back up. "What's the big deal?"

Blaine gaped at him. "It's the Warblers' party tonight. The guys asked me to sing with them and I have to be there, like, now! Seb, I told you about this! You know what a big deal this party is every year and I really don't want to let the guys down. Plus I'll take any excuse I can get to practice my music."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "You're still hung up on that whole music-as-a-career thing?"

Blaine scoffed. "If by being 'hung up on' it you mean being committed to making it happen, then yes."

The other boy scoffed. "Blaine, seriously, open your eyes. You can't go to music school, okay? Your life is here with Oliver. You can't just up and move away." He crossed his arms firmly over his chest.

"I'd take Ollie with me," Blaine replied simply.

Sebastian's eyes immediately grew wide. "Oh, would you now?"

"Yes."

Sebastian nodded slowly before letting out a slow, eerily sardonic chuckle. "And just how exactly would you pay for your useless little Music Education degree, hmm? And for a place to live? How are you possibly going to give Ollie everything he needs? Child support from me after you take my son away from me? I wouldn't count on that."

Blaine fixed his eyes on the ground.

Sebastian took another step toward him. "You're dreaming Blaine. And you really need to cut it out. Dreams are for kids, and you need to grow the hell up and face the facts. The only place you're going is down to Columbus with me. You're going to OSU part-time for something practical, and Oliver is going to be raised by both of his parents, okay?"

The shorter boy's eyes snapped up. "Oh, because you contribute so much to raising him now! Which one of us was it who dropped out of Dalton to 'raise' him, Sebastian? Which one of us knows all his favorite books by heart and how he likes his bananas cut? I have completely dedicated my life to that boy and you just drive up here every other weekend, if you feel like it, and take him away to your parents who I'm sure spend a lot more energy caring for him than you do."

Sebastian let out an exaggerated sigh and threw his head back in exasperation. "What do you want from me, Blaine?! I'm in college, for God's sake! I have classes and homework and obligations. Do you know what a sacrifice it is for me to make it up here at all during the semester?"

Blaine just shook his head. He could not believe his ears. He could not believe Sebastian had the nerve to show up at his house and tell him about sacrifice. Another tense, silent moment passed before he responded, voice even and calm, but still dripping with bitterness. "Yeah, Seb. It must quite the freaking sacrifice to stop partying and spend three days every other week with your son. Poor you."

Blaine then turned to the car and leaned inside, setting about strapping Oliver into his seat. "Nice hickey on your neck, by the way. I'm glad to see you really do have your priorities in place down there."

Sebastian moved his hand up to the purple spot just under his left ear, evidence of last night's hook-up. Then he was silent for minute, knowing he'd probably taken it too far. Sometimes he forgot how damn sensitive Blaine seemed to become since having the baby. He sighed in concession before he spoke again. "Alright, Bee, you're right. You've sacrificed more than I have at this point," he finally said, trying his best to sound sympathetic. "But you don't need to worry. Everything I'm doing, I'm doing to make our lives better. Yours and mine and Oliver's. So I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

The younger boy rolled his eyes as he listened, fastening the straps over his boy's tiny shoulders. He couldn't fathom why Sebastian would think that him 'not going anywhere' was a good thing when really, it was pretty much the bane of Blaine's existence lately.

"I'm majoring in Pre-Law, then I'm going to go to Law school, and then your dad will hire me at his firm and with that, along with my trust fund, we'll be set for life. We can settle down here in Westerville and then, who knows?"

Blaine froze at the feeling of a cold hand suddenly tracing down his side and over his hip as he remained leant over the car seat.

Sebastian was practically whispering when he moved in even closer. "Maybe then you and I can work on popping out a few more as cute as this one," he said, daring a squeeze on Blaine's hipbone. He'd always had a thing for the younger boy's hips, even post-baby.

Blaine immediately jumped backwards away from the car. "Take your hands off of me, Sebastian," he demanded. "Do you think you could at least try not to sexually assault me in front of the baby? And why would I have any interest in getting back together with you when I can clearly see the evidence that you are incapable of keeping it in your pants?" He motioned again to Sebastian's soiled neck.

"Oh, don't be so damn dramatic," Sebastian said, old smirk back in place. "You know I never cheated on you once when were together. It could be like that again if you'd just settle down and get real." He took another step toward the smaller boy and Blaine backed into the open car door, trapped. "Don't you miss me, Bee?"

"I asked you not to call me that, and no, I don't miss you. Not like that."

"Blaine, I don't know why you're fighting this so hard." Sebastian braced his arm against the open car door, effectively cornering Blaine more. "You know it's going to happen eventually. I mean, if your dad has anything to say about it, the wedding will probably be this summer so we can get a place together down in Columbus before school next fall. And, let's be honest, we both know that what Papa Anderson says, goes." His other hand moved back to the shorter boy's waist and was suddenly resting against the soft wool of Blaine's coat. "Would it really be that terrible?"

"Get off of me!" Blaine demanded again, pushing Sebastian's intrusive hand away and straightening back up. "First of all, I don't care what my dad says, Sebastian. I am not marrying you because in case you don't remember, we absolutely sucked together and I think that a marriage is something that should probably be something more than simply 'not terrible'. And, as far as 'popping out a few more' goes, the only thing that'll be doing any popping around here is my fist into your face if you don't back off of me right now!"

"No, Dada!"

Blaine's heart immediately sank at the sound of the tiny, pleading voice. Then he looked over to see Oliver staring at them in wide-eyed fear. He couldn't believe he let himself get so worked up in front of him. He always promised himself he would never get like that around his son. But it just happened. Just five minutes with Sebastian had turned into an argument. It was further proof, Blaine thought, that he and Sebastian were, and always would be, a complete train wreck together.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "I'm so sorry, Buddy."

"It's alright, Ollie," Sebastian said, moving to run a reassuring hand through the boy's curls. "Everything's just fine." He turned to face Blaine again before continuing. His green eyes - so similar to Oliver's but tainted with that ever-present glint of menace - narrowed on the younger boy as he spoke. "Daddy didn't mean it. I'm sure he'll come around and be a lot nicer to Papa soon."

Blaine wanted so badly to sneer at Sebastian or to make some kind of comeback to put him back in his place, but he could feel Oliver's scared eyes still glued to him. So he just smiled. Blaine was very good at smiling when there was nothing else to be done.

Looking significantly more satisfied, Sebastian retracted his hand from Oliver's hair. "We'd better get going, huh Bud? Daddy has to go to his silly party and Grand-père wants to get to the lake house tonight. Voulez-vous aller au lac avec Grand-père et moi?"

Oliver's eyes lit up at the question. "Oui!" he squeaked enthusiastically.

Oliver had been learning French right along with English from Sebastian and his parents, who were all born in France. Blaine almost hated to say how impressed he was with how well the toddler picked it up. Although he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Ollie had reached every milestone early, especially the cognitive development markers. It made sense that he should be picking up languages so fast, but it still made Blaine feel left out in some way. Like Sebastian had this secret with Oliver that he wasn't allowed in on.

"You're taking him to the lake house this weekend?" he asked, not having been informed of this previously.

"Yeah," Sebastian replied coolly. "Just Dad and Ollie and me. A getaway for the Smythe men. Why? You wanna come?" he asked with that trademark mischievous glint in his eye.

"No," Blaine answered immediately, effectively wiping the stupid smirk off Sebastian's face. "I'm just wondering why you didn't let me know earlier. Isn't it too cold in Port Clinton this time of year?"

"Blaine, you do remember that the Smythe lake house has an indoor basketball court, tennis court, pool, arcade, and home theater, right?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. Of course, he walked right into that one. If the Smythes loved to talk about one thing, it was money and what they bought with it. "Okay fine. But careful with the swimming, okay? He's not going to start lessons until the summer. Oh! I didn't pack him his swimsuit or floaties. I'll run in and grab them…"

"Jesus, Blaine. Settle down, will you?" Sebastian said. "We have swimsuits and floaties for him. And I think I can handle him in the pool, thank you very much. I'm not going to drown our son."

"I'm not saying you would I'm just saying you tend to be a little rough or careless sometimes…"

"What is that supposed to mean? You really think I would hurt him?"

"No, God, Sebastian you're putting words in my mouth. I know you're great with him and he obviously loves you. So just forget it, okay? Can we try not to get into it again in front of him?"

Sebastian scoffed. "Okay then. Is that all? I really don't need to stand here and take this bullshit criticism from you anymore."

"Oh my God. I'm not criticizing you! I'm just saying be careful."

"Whatever. Can we go now?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Blaine conceded, even though now he suddenly found himself wracking his brain for reasons to postpone his son leaving for the whole weekend with his insufferable ex, party and performance be damned.

"Alright. Then let's get a move on! Prêt à partir, Ollie?"

"Oui!"

Blaine leaned into the backseat one more time to kiss Ollie's hair. "Bye-bye, Ollie-Golly. I'll miss you."

Oliver giggled and wrinkled his little nose up at Blaine.

He smiled a genuine smile. "Be good for Papa and Grand-père. I love you."

"Luh you!"

With one more hair ruffle and two more kisses to his son's cheeks, Blaine finally pulled out of the seat and closed the door.

He turned to Sebastian. "Take care of my baby."

"Well, I'll sure try, but apparently I can get pretty careless…"

Blaine resisted another eye roll. "Just text me to let me know you get there okay. And I want to talk to him…"

"Before bed every night. Yes, I know, Blaine. We've been through this drill literally a hundred times."

Blaine put his hands up in surrender. "Alright. I'll just see you Sunday when you drop him back off, okay?"

"Sunday it is," Sebastian said, not bothering to try to hide the irritation in his voice. He turned his back and headed around to the driver's seat. "Will you have run out of things to bitch at me about by then?" he added over his shoulder.

Blaine threw his head back in exasperation and squeezed his hands into tight fists, barely resisting the urge to run into the garage and get a snow shovel to bash Sebastian in the head with. "I guess only time will tell," he said tightly. "Have a nice weekend."

Sebastian gave him one more stupid smirk over the top of the car. "You too. Tell all the guys I say hello. And have a blast at your useless performance." And with that, he climbed into the Porsche and backed out of the driveway so fast that the tires squealed, not leaving enough time for Blaine to wave goodbye to Ollie again and certainly not leaving enough time for Sebastian to have looked for oncoming traffic well enough.

Blaine stood in open-mouthed amazement for a moment, feeling too angry to move right away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone before he turned back to the house.

When my child suffers whiplash from your idiotic driving stunts, consider yourself a dead man. – Blaine

He sighed and trudged back up to the house. Interacting with Sebastian always left him frustrated and honestly kind of depressed. This was the other father of his baby, the guy he would be inextricably tied to for the rest of his life whether he liked it or not. Why couldn't they just get along for five minutes for Ollie's sake?

And everything always felt ten times worse when he thought about the fact that he had loved Sebastian once. At least, he thought he did. Looking back now, it was easy for Blaine to see that they had both just gotten caught up in a treacherous mix of teenage attraction and too many hormones, but at the time, he had thought it was love. And now that it wasn't, it broke Blaine's heart.

Because more than anything else in the world, more than to teach music or to perform on Broadway, Blaine wanted to be in love for real. He wanted someone he could just be himself with and who could make him feel like he was living his life again rather than just going through the motions. He wanted to be swept off his feet and carried far, far away by a guy who would treat him and Ollie right and who would never, ever laugh at his dreams.

But none of that seemed too likely to come across in Westerville, Ohio.

Yes? No? Do you want more? Should I bother continuing this? Let me know!