Kurt and Blaine Wake Up Married

Chapter 11

"Mom," he says, surprised. He doesn't think she has ever come to see him at work before. He walks around from behind his desk, and shows her to the little chairs and tables where he talks with the parents of his students.

"Blaine, darling," she says, tenderly touching his cheek as she looks into his eyes. He starts to get scared. She is dressed formally, in a tasteful suit with a knee-length skirt and a little hat.

"Has someone died?" he asks, though the suit is green rather than black. He can't think of another reason she would come to him at work, dressed like this, with that kind but somewhat artificial smile on her face.

A little laugh as she sits down, just as artificial as the smile. "Oh no, it's nothing bad, really. Or....well, I'm sure at some point you will be glad I told you."

That sentence has never, ever meant anything good.

"What is it, mom?" Blaine says, bracing himself for sickness or bankruptcy.

"Blaine, I believe your husband is cheating on you."

Ooo-kay.

"What makes you believe that?" Blaine asks cautiously. Strangely, she never came to him telling on Sebastian. Besides, he's pretty sure Kurt is not cheating on him—and even if he did, it wouldn't really be cheating. Not that she knows that.

"I don't like telling you this," she says. "But Mrs Greenberg said her niece saw him standing in class with a...a hickey on his neck."

Oh, right. His drunk self had apparently been a little....overly enthusiastic. Kurt had scolded him, calling hickeys impossibly tacky, but had eventually decided against wearing a scarf, saying a hickey could only work in their favor.

"Yes?" he says, not understanding. Why would a hickey mean Kurt....oh. Oh God, he so doesn't want to talk about this.

"I did this," he says, but sees he needs to clarify. "I put the hickey on Kurt's neck."

"But...you don't do hickeys," his mom says, sounding vaguely disgusted. "Sebastian never-"

"Sebastian wore a lot of hickeys from a lot of different men," he interrupts, slowly getting angry.

"Well, it's not his fault so many gay men came to town for your foundation," she huffs, as if that makes any sense at all.

"That doesn't mean he had to sleep with all of them!" He's nearly yelling now and takes a few deep breaths too calm himself. He just doesn't understand why she's here, what she wants...

'Your foundation'. Well, at least it's not 'your little project' anymore. It's become too big for that, apparently even she sees that.

"I'll go if you'll just yell at me," she threatens.

He rises. "Close the door on your way out."

It's as rude as he's ever been to her, and she huffs again and rises, but stops with her hand on the doorknob.

"So you really sleep with him," she says.

"Of course I do, mom. He's my husband."

It's not even a lie. Their drunken night together was only a few days ago, after all. That totally counts.

To his considerable dismay, she comes back and sits down again.

"I just don't understand why you're married," she says.

"Because we were drunk. We had a...connection, and we were drunk, and we got married."

It might be true. What does he know? He still doesn't remember anything about that night. They have a connection now, if only as friends, and that's what's important.