Kurt talked to Mike the next day after school, just like he said he would, and he became the first person at school that knew. He might have known already, though not with any kind of actual confirmation, but that didn’t change the importance of the actual conversation. Blaine hadn’t been witness to any of it, but Kurt had come over afterward and had been practically shaking when he came into the house.

He’d managed to tell Mike everything while still keeping Brittany and Santana out of it, and Mike hadn’t questioned any of it. He hadn’t said he knew already, hadn’t said anything that wasn’t supportive, and had just hugged Kurt tight and thanked him for telling him, told him that he was glad he had Blaine. Kurt hadn’t really expected it to go badly, because it was Mike after all, but the fact was that he had told someone and he had come away completely unscathed.

Blaine’s mom made them hot chocolate and they stayed curled up on the couch together until Kurt had to go home for dinner – he had been invited to stay but he knew his dad was expecting him home. It was probably for the best that he hadn’t stayed because mid-way through dinner there was a knock on the front door, followed by the doorbell ringing, and then a knock again. His dad answered it, but immediately called out for Blaine once he’d opened the door.

He barely made it out of the dining room before Santana threw herself at him, clinging on tightly and burying her face against the crook of his neck. His collar was getting wet, he realized, and that was what alerted him to the fact that she was crying. The shock of her being there and practically slamming into him on sight had kept him from noticing before. “Hey… hey now. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.” His dad raised an eyebrow at him, but Blaine just shook his head. “Let’s sit, alright? Then you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Santana whispered, but she grabbed onto his arm once he started to guide her into the den. Her gaze flitted to his dad, who was still lingering outside the dining room, and then back to Blaine. “Upstairs?”

“Sure,” he agreed, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs to his room. Santana was trembling, and Blaine realized that she wasn’t wearing a coat or anything particularly suitable for being out in the January cold. She was wearing shorts, flip flops, and his Dalton sweatshirt that she’d kept after she’d been over on that snowy afternoon. As soon as they got into his room, he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and held them out to her, watching her as she slipped them on over her shorts. “San?”

“I fucked up,” she said, her voice wavering. She crawled up onto his bed and shoved her legs underneath the covers, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweatshirt before hugging a pillow to her chest. “Can I stay here? With you?”

“What?” Blaine blinked, watching her bury her face against the pillow and tighten her arms around it. He sat on the edge of the bed, right beside her, and tried to brush her hair back from her face. “Santana, what happened? It’ll be okay, whatever it is, just tell me. We’ll figure it out.”

“I forgot… tonight was family dinner night and I was supposed to help my Abuela and I forgot.” She was muffled against the pillow, and Blaine still couldn’t quite figure out why she was there with him instead of with Brittany, who seemed like the more obvious choice for comfort.

“Okay…”

“I thought we had time, my parents weren’t supposed to be home until later, I mean, that’s why I was supposed to help in the first place,” she rambled on, the occasional hiccup interrupting her words. “She came up to my room to find me and—this is all my fault.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Blaine tried, though he honestly had no idea if it was or wasn’t. He shifted over to sit beside her, with his back against the headboard, and circled his arm around her shoulders.

“She saw us,” Santana said, each word emphasized as she lifted her head from the pillow to look at him, eyes red and puffy and tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Me and Brittany, she saw us.”

Blaine felt his stomach twist into knots as the realization hit him – what she was saying. He hadn’t known for sure if Santana’s family knew about her, but that gave him an answer. “Maybe… you could play it off like you’d been doing something else? I mean—”

“If your parents walked into your room while you had Kurt’s dick in your mouth, could you play that off like you were doing something else?” she snapped, arms clenching tighter around the pillow. “Kind of definitive, don’t you think?”

A throat being cleared drew their attention to the doorway of his room, where his mom was standing. Her cheeks were slightly tinted pink, which Blaine could only assume meant that she’d heard, well, at least the last few sentences Santana had spat out at him. Santana just buried her face against the pillow again and let out a very muffled yell of frustration.

“I was just coming to see if I could get either of you anything,” his mom said, her brow furrowing as she watched Santana. “Dinner? Hot chocolate?”

“A time machine,” Santana mumbled, just loud enough that Blaine could hear it but his mom couldn’t.

“I think we’re good for right now,” Blaine answered, shaking his head. She lingered in the doorway, giving him a look before turning to leave and pulling his door most of the way shut behind her. He rubbed Santana’s back, turning his attention back to her. “So what happened?”

“She just went off,” Santana said, swallowing hard as she lifted her head up and rested her chin on top of the pillow. “She started tearing into Brittany and barely gave her a chance to get dressed before she threw her out, and then she started in on me and pretty much dragged me out.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of her, and that made Blaine feel more sick to his stomach than anything else had. “Told me what a disgrace I was and that she was going to tell my parents. Said she didn’t have a granddaughter anymore.”

“San…” Blaine wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close as her laughter turned into sobs and she practically crumpled into his hold. There was so little he could do to help, to comfort, and he felt kind of useless, but he just kept her pulled in against him and ran his hand along her back in broad strokes. She cried against his shoulder, body shaking and every breath in sounding like a gasp for air.

“B-Brittany, she looked so hurt and s-scared,” she whimpered, her hand sliding to his chest and fisting into the fabric of his shirt – and it was shocking that she didn’t manage to rip it with how tight she was doing it. “What if she hates me now? This is my fault.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Blaine murmured, pressing a kiss against her hair. “Brittany loves you. There’s no way even something like this could have possibly made her stop loving you. This is a speed bump, that’s all. It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know that it’s not, either,” he countered, but at least she seemed to be calming down a little. Her breathing was steadier, less frantic, and it seemed like her tears were subsiding. “I’ll ask my mom if you can stay, if you still want, but… she’s probably going to want to know why.”

“It really doesn’t fucking matter anymore.” Santana slowly loosened her hold on his shirt and scooted down so she was almost completely buried under the covers, curling on her side and hugging a pillow to her chest. The occasional sniffle was the only sign that she was still awake, as the minutes passed, and Blaine stayed sitting there beside her.

Part of him wanted to call Brittany, but he knew that wasn’t his place. None of it was his place, really, but there they were anyway. So he sat, letting Santana press her back against the side of his leg as she lay unmoving beside him on the bed, and tried to think of what he was going to say to his parents. He was glad they knew, that he’d told them everything because otherwise it would require more explanation than he thought he’d be able to give at that particular time.

“I’ll be back,” he said quietly, leaning down and hugging her gently before moving off the bed and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. He padded down the stairs and headed for the dining room, and found his parents talking in hushed tones.

“What’s going on?” his mom asked when she saw him standing in the doorway. “What happened?”

“Can she stay here tonight? She had a rough afternoon, and—”

“Blaine.” His dad’s voice cut him off sharply, and he knew he really hadn’t stood much of a chance to avoid explanation, but it had been worth a shot.

“Her grandma found out about her and Brittany and threw them both out of the house and said some really awful things,” he said, biting his lip. “So can she stay?”

“Do her parents know where she is?” his mom asked, rising up out of her chair and smoothing down her skirt as she looked over at him.

“No, they weren’t getting home from work until late and by that time it had already happened…” he trailed off as his mom brushed past him, heading for the stairs without another word. He wavered in the doorway, unsure of whether he was supposed to stay or follow, but headed up the stairs behind her after a few seconds. She held out her hand to stop him from coming in after her when she went into his room, but the door stayed open a little so he could see inside.

His mom sat on the edge of the bed next to Santana, and she was speaking quietly enough that Blaine couldn’t hear anything that she was saying. He could see that Santana was nodding occasionally, though she did shake her head once or twice, and he pulled out his phone to send a text to Kurt and let him know what had happened. Maybe he’d be able to check on Brittany, make sure she was okay. He was busy staring at his phone, typing out the last bit of the message, when the door opened the rest of the way and his mom came back out.

“I’m going to call her parents, see what exactly is going on,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder into the room before looking back to him. “If I can get them to come over, I will, and of course she’s welcome to stay if necessary but hopefully it won’t be. Now come help me clear up from dinner, give her a few minutes of quiet.”

Blaine complied, clearing off the table in the dining room and rinsing all the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. He considered taking some food up for Santana, but she’d said she didn’t want anything and he couldn’t imagine that she had much of an appetite. His parents were back to talking just quietly enough that he couldn’t hear what they were saying, though he had heard his mom on the phone to what he assumed was one of Santana’s parents.

He lingered in the kitchen until the doorbell rang and his mom told him to go upstairs. Her jaw was set, and his dad looked resolute, and he was really glad that they were on his side because he couldn’t imagine going up against them about anything important. They were reasonable, but could be intense when it came to what they believed in. He really hoped that Santana’s parents were good, that there weren’t going to be problems, but if her grandmother was anything to go by then he was concerned.

Santana was lying flat on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, when he went back into his room. She barely acknowledged that he came in, but her gaze flickered over in his direction when he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to her. He’d never seen her look like that before, so unraveled and broken and small. She looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t come up with the words, so he just held his arms open and she rolled up against him, pillowing her head against his chest and clutching her arm tight around his waist.

They stayed there like that long enough that Blaine almost fell asleep, and he was half-certain that Santana actually had. It wasn’t until there were footsteps on the stairs and coming down the hall that Santana proved she wasn’t asleep, because her fingers knotted into the fabric of his shirt and she drew in a sharp breath. That woke him up enough to be aware of the door to his room opening, and he opened his eyes to look over.

The woman standing there had to be Santana’s mother – clearly, because it wasn’t his mom and he’d never seen her before, but also because they had such similar features. Blaine tried to shift away from Santana, but the grip she had wouldn’t let him. She wasn’t even looking over toward the door, if her eyes were open at all. It felt so very awkward to be lying there with her practically curled around him while her mother crossed the distance in the room and stood by the bed.

“Santana, let go of him,” she said, and her voice was softer than Blaine had been expecting. Maybe it was because he was used to the usual sharpness of Santana’s. “I want to talk to you.”

Slowly but surely, Santana’s grip on his shirt loosened and she lifted her arm enough that he could wriggle out from under it. He got to his feet and offered Mrs. Lopez a hint of a smile before heading for the door, though he was torn between giving them complete privacy and hanging around outside in case Santana needed some support. In a slight compromise, he sat against the wall a few feet away, close enough to be near but far enough to not hear anything.

His phone started buzzing with texts from Kurt, a delayed response after being with his dad for dinner and whatever else they’d been doing. There were a lot of panicked questions, then swearing, then the calmer responses of having talked to Brittany and finding out that she was okay. Upset, but okay. She was far more concerned about Santana and how she was doing since she’d been calling and texting her nonstop with no answer – but Blaine hadn’t heard any phone but his own the entire time she’d been there.

He got so caught up in texting back to Kurt that he didn’t even know how much time had gone by before the door to his room opened and Santana stepped out. She fidgeted with the waistband of his sweatpants she was wearing, looking down at the floor as Blaine got up and took the few steps to get over to her. Mrs. Lopez appeared behind her in the doorframe, her hand resting on the small of Santana’s back to get her to move out of the way. She disappeared down the stairs and left the two of them standing there, and Santana still didn’t look up.

“Is it—are you—okay?”

“My mom, she’s good,” Santana said softly, folding her arms across her stomach and hugging in on herself. “Dad is on board with my Abuela, which made my mom get super upset. The women in my family kind of have tempers, though I’m sure you never would have guessed that.” Her gaze moved up to meet his, and he bit back a small grin. The fact that she was teasing, even just a little, was good, despite the fact that nothing about the situation merited a smile. “They fought and she told him to get out until he got over his ignorance.”

“Oh… wow. Santana, that’s…”

“It’s fine,” she said, shrugging and pushing her hair back out of her face. “Well no, it’s not, but I have my mom and she won’t put up with that kind of shit, so it could be worse.”

“Kurt said that Brittany’s okay,” he offered, touching her arm lightly. “She’s worried about you more than anything. It’s… rough[[,]] but you’re right, you have your mom. You have Brittany, me, Kurt, my parents – you’re far from alone in this.”

“You know the really funny part?” Santana asked, tilting her head as she looked at him. “I was thinking about telling them. I was trying to work myself up to it, I really was. I don’t know what’s worse - how my Abuela reacted or how my dad would have, but I guess I’ll never know.”

“Santana,” Mrs. Lopez called up the stairs. “Time to go.”

“Call Brittany,” Blaine said, walking over to the stairs and heading down with her. “Kurt said she kept trying to reach you.”

“I don’t have my phone,” she said, hands automatically searching for pockets that weren’t there anyway. “I’ll find it when I get home.”

Both their mothers were standing side by side near the front door, and Mrs. Lopez’s unwavering stare made Blaine feel like he was under heavy scrutiny. He slowed his pace and hung slightly back from Santana, unsure of what to do or say.

“So you’re the boy my Santana has been pretending to date for months now,” she said, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

“Oh, um, yes,” Blaine replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “That would be me.”

“Well Santana, even if you are a lesbian, you still have good taste in men,” she directed to her daughter, before pulling her keys out of her pocket and heading out the door. His mom covered her mouth with her hand, presumably to keep from laughing. Santana rolled her eyes and gave Blaine a tight hug, and then did the same to his mom, before disappearing out into the dark evening.

“Come here,” his mom said, reaching out her arms for him and pulling him into a hug. “I just need to do this for a minute, okay?”

“Okay.”

By the time Blaine went to bed that night, he’d spent hours on the phone back and forth between Kurt and Brittany – though mostly Kurt. Santana had called Brittany, but apparently hadn’t been able to say much more than that she was okay and she wasn’t going to go to school the next day or so, but would probably be back before the end of the week. He knew she was putting on a braver face than she actually felt, because hadn’t that been one of her worst fears about coming out? She’d said she’d been thinking about doing it before that afternoon had happened, so at least there was that progress – he just didn’t know how many steps she’d taken backwards thanks to two-thirds of her family.

***

School without Santana was strange – it made Blaine realize that she hadn’t missed a single day that year, because he wasn’t used to going without her popping up at his locker at various points of the day. Strange how a daily schedule could be so influenced by someone’s presence. He stole Brittany away from Kurt for lunch, because despite the fact that she said she was okay, she’d been looking pouty every time he’d passed her in the halls.

“I told my mom,” Brittany said with a shrug as she popped a french fry into her mouth, sitting in his car out in the parking lot. “Well, she was home when I got back from Santana’s and she wanted to know why I was upset, and I figured… with how Santana’s grandma was yelling about it, half of Lima probably heard anyway.”

“And?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” Honestly, even though Blaine had never met her, he would have been shocked if Brittany’s mom was anything less than easygoing. He was basing that on how Brittany was, and he figured her family must be sweet and very patient, but even still he was glad to hear it from her. “She said she already knew.”

“She already knew?” Blaine raised an eyebrow as he took in the last few bites of his sandwich.

“Mhm. She said we woke her up one time when we were having a sleepover and that we weren’t nearly as sneaky or quiet as we thought we were.” Brittany giggled, biting her lip. “I mean, I didn’t think she would have a problem with it, but after the whole thing… I wasn’t sure, you know?”

“Yeah. She sounds great, I’m really happy for you, Brit.”

“I just feel bad because of Santana,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Is it bad that I’m sad I won’t get to have yummy food from her grandma anymore? Because she made really yummy stuff and always treated me like I was part of the family, but I guess that only counted if I wasn’t trying to be a real part of it.”

“No, it’s okay to be sad,” Blaine replied, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “I know Santana’s sad about that too.”

“It’s okay though, because I have Santana,” Brittany said resolutely. “And we can go get yummy food from somewhere else.”

That said it all. She seemed content to go right back to her french fries and hum along with the radio, no more words spoken about the absence of Santana or what was going on with her family.

When Santana did come back to school, feigning that she had gotten a cold and seriously facing some wrath from Coach Sylvester for daring to be sick, she acted like nothing had happened. It wasn’t as though they had expected her to, but she seemed completely unphased. She didn’t hold Blaine’s hand any tighter as they walked down the halls, didn’t press for more physicality in any way, just seemed normal and fine. Maybe having a few days to herself had been the best thing for her.

It didn’t really seem like much was different, until it became obvious that it was.

It happened one afternoon the following week when Kurt was over, stretched out on Blaine’s bed and reading through a book for his literature class. Even when they were both working on separate homework, it was still nice to be there together. It meant that they could take breaks – usually long, kiss filled breaks. Maybe it wasn’t the most productive way to study or do homework, but it definitely was the nicest.

Blaine’s cell rang and he ignored his history essay to answer it, seeing Santana’s name on the screen.

“Listen Baggins, we need to talk.” Santana didn’t even give him a chance to say hello before she started in. “There’s a Valentine’s dance coming up.”

“Oh right, I’ve seen the posters around school,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face with his free hand. “How fancy is this thing? Are we talking suit? Tux? What color is your dress?”

“I don’t wear those to dances so I really don’t know,” Santana drawled. “And red.” She hadn’t given him much help when they’d gone to Homecoming together, either, beyond telling him what colors not to wear because they would clash with her dress. “Is Kurt there?”

“Why?”

“Just put the damn phone on speaker.” Blaine did as she asked, mouthing ‘Santana’ at Kurt and pointing down at it. “Did you?”

“Yes, now what is it?”

“I want to go to the dance with Brittany,” Santana said, and that made Kurt shut his book and scoot closer to the phone. Blaine stared down at it, not really sure he was trusting the implication of her words. “It’s just so stupid, after everything, and I really don’t think anyone in that school could hold a candle to my Abuela and dad in terms of making me feel like shit. I’m tired of fighting, I’m so tired of fighting, and I just want to be able to be me and dance with my girlfriend.”

“That’s great, Santana,” Kurt spoke up, looking over at Blaine.

“Yeah, except it isn’t just me,” she replied, and there was a slight waver in her voice. “Because that’s not fair. I dragged Blaine into this and you have Brittany, so it’s about you guys too.”

“I want you to go with Brittany, if that’s what you want,” Kurt said. Blaine reached over to take his hand, squeezing it. “I mean, it seems like a total consolation prize considering how great a dancer Brittany is, but I guess I can go with Blaine.”

“Hey, I’m a good dancer!” Blaine objected, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Don’t expect anything great, Kurt, he didn’t even try to feel me up when we were at Homecoming,” Santana offered, and Blaine rolled his eyes. She hesitated. “Are you… sure? I mean, I know I don’t always give a shit about other people but this is kind of a big deal for everyone and I don’t want to be that person.”

“I’m sure,” Kurt said, lacing their fingers together and leaning down to press a kiss against Blaine’s hand. “I am very sure, Santana.”

“Okay. Well, I mean, I’m not going to say anything before then because I figure that won’t give people a chance to plan their outrage. I don’t care if it’s a bit dramatic or whatever, I’m just going to show up to the dance with her and let people figure it out from there.”

“Perfect,” Blaine said, trying to ignore the way his stomach was twisting into knots. This was good, it was really good, but anxiety was starting to creep in anyway.

“Sweet. I’ll see you pretty boys tomorrow.” Silence filled the line and Blaine put his phone back on his desk next to his books. His mind was racing and the only thing really keeping him grounded was Kurt’s hand in his.

“What is it?” Kurt asked, reaching out to cup his other hand against Blaine’s face and turning it so he would look at him. “Blaine?”

“Nothing, just… school dance,” Blaine answered, shaking his head. He’d gotten so caught up in the moment of Santana wanting to come out, the thought that finally he could be with Kurt like he’d wanted to be, like Kurt wanted them to be, that it had taken a few extra seconds for reality to set in.  Kurt stared at him until he got to the right realization.

“Oh. Oh. Blaine, we don’t have to go.” Kurt tugged him out of his chair and up to sit on the bed, leaning in to press a brief kiss to his lips. “We don’t.”

“I want to,” Blaine said, and he meant it. He so very much wanted to go with Kurt, dance with him, screw everyone else and what they thought. It was just a matter of getting the rest of him to agree. He knew his involuntary response of fear when it came to school dances wasn’t irrational but he also knew that not everything was the same. Sure, he’d gone to Homecoming and it had been fine, but he’d been there with Santana. McKinley didn’t exactly overwhelm him with feelings of safety. “I’ll talk to Miss Pillsbury.”

“What?”

“It makes sense, right? I’ll talk to her and tell her what happened to me before, and then maybe they’ll be more aware at the dance? My parents will probably demand to be chaperones or something, but there’s no way I’m not going to go with you.” Blaine pulled him in and kissed him deeply, pushing all his fear and anxiety into an outpouring of emotion to Kurt. Words were difficult sometimes, but he wanted him to know that there was no way he was backing down or trying to run. Kurt had dealt with the people at that school for years – Blaine could handle them for a night and the months beyond.