queerasglee | "Walking on ice, get it right once, you gotta mess it up twice..."

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"Walking on ice, get it right once, you gotta mess it up twice..."

Who? Andrew Pearson and Michael Novotny
What? That awkward moment when that's not the kind of rear-ending you were going for.
When? Immediately after THIS
Where? Not far from the Novotny-Anderson home

Fuck. Fuck was the only word Michael could think of as Blaine had stormed out of the kitchen and then out of the house, slamming the door behind him and taking off in his car. It had taken Michael a moment to recover from the shock of the information his son had just given him, but once he did, he was grabbing his phone and keys to head out of the house after him. He wasn't 100% sure where Blaine was going but he felt almost certain he could figure it out. Dammit, but things had been going so well, too. Maybe Michael was just destined to be a fuck-up of a father, and nothing would ever change that. But he didn't want that. He didn't want his kid to run away from him and not trust him, and he sure as hell didn't want to be that asshole dad that never got to see his kid when they were grown. Fuck, this whole thing was his fault, and maybe that sucked more than any of it.

As he pulled out of the driveway of their house, driving toward Liberty Avenue to make his way to the interstate, he fumbled with his phone, searching for the Blaine's contact in his call log. It hit him suddenly how far down the list Blaine's name was. He didn't know why in the world he'd ever let things get this far between him and his son. Fuck, where was Blaine's name in there?

But before he found his son's name, Michael glanced up in front of him, a string of profanity falling from his lips as he saw brake lights on the back of the car in front of him. His foot shifted instantly to the brake, and his tires screeched, but it was too little, too late, and he slammed into the back of the other car, somehow managing to bang his arm hard into the steering wheel, a loud hiss of pain his only response before his airbag deployed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was true that Andrew was technically 'young' compared to a lot of his colleagues. He had thrown himself into med school and climbed the ranks quickly after graduation, pretty much taking any opportunity that came his way. First a residency in Emergency Medicine, then a fellowship in Trauma medicine which he had only recently finished which accumulated into being offered the job here in Pittsburgh as the Senior Attending in Emergency. He had always thought he would return home to Jersey after he finished his fellowship because he missed his twin sister like crazy, but the job was too good a chance to pass-up. Sure, it meant he had crazy on-call hours, but without a family and being a workaholic, it suited him. It also meant that his had very little to spend his money on and he was well-off for his age. His hard work paid off. He had a big modern apartment in the newest part of Pittsburgh (which was now the most affluent), he owned expensive clothes, all the mod-cons... and a 2011 Project Kahn black Mercedes Benz car.

When he felt the jolt of his car from behind, coupled with the sickening crunch that made his blood run cold, it was just lucky he had been stationary at the red light and had no one in front of him, or he would have ploughed into them too. His foot was still planted firmly on the break and as soon as he car ground to a halt, it took him a few moments to wade through the shock of what just happened. He had jarred his neck and it was hurting a little, but luckily nothing else of his body impacted with anything. Anyone else would probably have been pissed to have just been rear-ended like that, and especially in a car as expensive as Andrew's. But being a doctor, Andrew's first concern was whether the people int he car behind him, even if they caused the accident, were hurt. He fumbled out of his car, making sure he had his cell in case an ambulance was needed and he nearly tripped over trying to get out. His neck was still hurting, but he hurried to the car smashed up into the back end of his. Shit, it was a bit of a mess.

He just reflexively opened the driver's door. "Don't move, I'm a doctor. Are you okay? Just don't move in case you have any spinal damage, ok-- oh crap!" fell from his lips before he could stop it when he saw who the driver was. This week was just getting worse by the second.

There was serious pain in Michael's arm, but after the initial "Oh, shit," moment, it was like he didn't feel it anymore. Shock, probably, because he was staring at the crushed rear end of the car in front of him. Fuck. Fuck it was a fucking Benz. How the hell, of all the cars to run into, Michael would find the one Mercedes in probably the entirety of this side of Pittsburgh, he would never know, but that tended to be his fucking luck. It was a gorgeous car, too. Or at least, it looked like it had been before Michael had plowed into it. Fuck, but his luck was in the shitter.

He sat there for a moment, not sure what the fuck he needed to do. Probably call the police. That would be a good idea, but as he went to reach out for his phone, he winced again. His arm was royally fucked, and he didn't know how badly. Fuck. Before he knew what was happening, the driver of the other car was coming his way, and he didn't see the guy's face, just that he was coming toward his car with a seriously deliberate gait. All Michael could think was that some rich douchebag driving a Benz was going to kick his ass for ruining his expensive car when all he really wanted was to get to his son and apologize and what the actual fuck was he supposed to do with one arm completely out of commission?

Then the door opened, and the guy was asking if he was okay, and the whole thing was making Michael's head spin, in with the panic and the worry about Blaine and the shock. But he only thought he was in shock before he turned and found himself staring directly into the blue eyes of Dr. Andrew Pearson himself. Seriously? "I'm... I'm fine!" he stammered, though the weird way his arm was positioned, and the airbag in his face gave away that he might not be quite as "fine" as he was insisting.

Andrew's hand came to rest on Michael's shoulder. It was careful, but the gesture was firm. "Don't move," he repeated and there was a hint of a warning in his tone. He took his phone from his pocket and dialled in 911, and after a few moments, he was reporting the accident, no serious injuries, but they were going to need the police and an ambulance anyway. Shock could do weird shit to a person and there was still a chance Michael might be badly hurt without realising it. "I'm sure you are fine, but we're going to make double sure of that just in case. "Did you hit your head? Any pain, numbness, tingling anywhere? Nausea, dizziness, blurred vision? Look, just stay still! I'm trying to help you, not hit on you. The angle of your arm alone tells me you've dislocated your shoulder, so just take it easy. You move, that's going to hurt like fuck and it could be broken."

Shit, it was lucky he had good insurance, but he was really starting to wonder what his karma was like lately. At the very least, he mojo felt well off. He couldn't not seem to get out of this guy's presence, and said guy wanted him nowhere in his presence to start with. Just hours before, Andrew had been meeting with his son, and now he had been on his way home from work, though that wasn't going to happen any time soon. He spotted Michael's phone in his lap then, which he must have dropped on impact. "You were texting and driving? Dude. Blaine really doesn't need you making him an orphan... and he doesn't need a dad in the slammer, either..." He carefully reached over and picked up Michael's cell phone and shoved it into his pocket on top of his own. "If anyone asks - and the will - you had a sneezing fit, alright?"

Michael shook his head firmly. "I can't... I can't stay still, I have to get to Blaine, okay? So if you'll just let me go, I need to get to my kid. I upset him, and he's..." He felt sick, not from the accident, but with worry for Blaine and that he'd finally managed to fuck his relationship with his son up completely. "I didn't hit my head," he insisted, irritated as all hell that Dr. Pearson wasn't letting him go. Not that he could've gotten far in his fucked up car, but dammit, he needed to get to Blaine. "I'm seriously fine, okay, can you please just... Get me a cab? I need to talk to him. You can fix my shoulder, right?" His dark eyes were pleading with the doctor to help him so that he could go to his son and try to make right, as best he could, years of screwing up. "It just got moved wrong when I hit you... Shit, this fucking airbag's in my face!"

"No, I wasn't texting and driving!" Michael snapped. "I was trying to find Blaine's number so I could call him... He left the house really upset, okay, and if you'll just let me out of the car..." But Andrew's hand was still firm on his uninjured shoulder, and no matter what he wanted, he wasn't fucking going anywhere. Rolling his eyes, Michael gave his head an even firmer shake than before, wincing when it made his arm shift just enough to make him aware of the pain. "Shit," he hissed, trying to move his other arm to cover his shoulder with his hand, but failing when the airbag was in the way. "I'll get you my insurance card and everything, you can have my information, but I've got to talk to Blaine, okay?"

Andrew was really starting to wonder what it was that had attracted him to this guy in the first place. There was so much defensiveness and aggression, and the last thing Andrew wanted to do was make any of that worse. It wasn't his intention at all. His intentions had been completely innocent in that he had found a glimmer of attraction there, but now he knew it was a huge mistake to have tried to act on it. He couldn't get be getting stronger GTFO vibes if Michael was actually telling him to get the fuck out. "Fuck cabs, you're getting an ambulance. For one, you're going to need a medical check for insurance purposes because as much as I want to help your kid, my car is going to need fixing or my job will be on the line, and there will be no helping your kid at all. Second, I'm a doctor and I'm not letting you go anywhere until you're cleared medically. That's my ethical duty. Of course, you could try getting out and bolting for it, but you're not going to make it very far, so I wouldn't recommend it... and even then, your son still probably won't talk to you if you've pissed him off, so it's really in your best interests to cooperate with me and make this easier on both of us."

"It's the same concept. Your focus was on the cell screen and not the road. And I really, really hope Blaine isn't upset with you over what he needed to talk to you about..." he had to add with a small sigh, if only just for the poor kid's sake. When was he going to catch a trick? He could already hear the sirens in the distance, considering the ambulance ranks weren't actually that far from here to begin with. He couldn't examine Michael sitting in the car the way he was anyway, and honestly, he didn't need a lawsuit on his professional record for trying to give a patient medical treatment without their okay. Right now, he wouldn't put something like that past this guy. He seriously seemed to have built quite the dislike for Andrew.

But he did think quickly and on his toes. If Blaine was angry and stormed out upset, if he saw his father's caller ID on his cell, he wouldn't answer. So, Andrew once again took his own phone out. "What's Blaine's cell number? I'll call him right now. And for the love of all things fucking sacred, please don't argue with me over this. If you've pissed him off and he sees you trying to call him, he's not going to respond to your call." He was getting a little frustrated now, and his bedside manner and patience waning considering he, himself, had been in the car accident. He wasn't obligated to help Michael medically here, he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart for Blaine's sake and the guy could do with cutting the fucking attitude a little with putting his son's welfare above and beyond his own.

For the first time in he couldn't remember how long, Michael let the doctor's words sink in and he just... gave up, and gave in. "Okay," he mumbled, feeling tears pricking at his eyes, but refusing to give in to them. Not yet. He couldn't cry in front of Andrew. It would only make things worse, and he well and truly wasn't in the mood to become a weeping snotty mess, but perhaps Blaine's explosion at him early was the final straw in showing Michael exactly what he'd done in trying to "turn" Blaine straight. He'd pushed his son away... His precious son who meant the whole world to him... And made it so painfully obvious for so long that he didn't approve of Blaine's being gay that, when he took a moment in shock to recover from the revelation that his son had a boyfriend, Blaine had thought he didn't accept his relationship with Kurt. He'd pushed his own son that far, and that realization settled in with a heaviness in Michael's gut that he thought would be the death of him.

"He is," Michael replied weakly, the fight all but totally gone out of him as he shook his head. "It was a big misunderstanding, and I didn't have time to explain myself before he left the house. He was angry, and I couldn't stop him." His eyes were flooding with tears, his resolve to keep them back slowly fading as he pushed against the airbag with his good hand. It was making him feel claustrophobic, on top of everything else.

Without even arguing, Michael gave Andrew Blaine's number. Fuck, he really wished someone would get there and get him the fuck out of this car. Swallowing hard as a few tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks, Michael just nodded at Andrew. "I'm not arguing, okay... I just... I need to talk to him. If he answers, will you please tell him I need to talk to him? I didn't mean it, Dr. Pearson... I didn't mean to make him feel that way, I didn't... I never wanted to hurt him in anyway, I just..." He threw up his good hand, hating that nothing made sense, and he couldn't explain himself because there was no acceptable explanation for what he'd done to his son since he came out. "Just tell him that? That I want to talk to him?"

Andrew dialled in the number on his iPhone simultaneous to Michael stating the numbers for him and he put the phone up to his ear. He listened to the ring and his hand was still on Michael's shoulder. "Here, turn slowly and carefully towards me and put your feet out of the door. You can lean against the airbag with your good arm then and take some of the pressure off the injured one," he said gently, stepping aside just a little to make room for Michael's feet. "It's gone to voicemail."

Waiting for the tone after Blaine's recorded message and watching Michael closely, Andrew started to leave Blaine a message as discreetly as he could. "Blaine, it's Dr Pearson here. I need you to come to the ER at the hospital I work, or give them a call as soon as you get this message, buddy. Your dad has been in a minor car crash and he's hurt his arm. I promise, he's going to be okay but we to make sure you're kept informed of everything going on. You can call me back directly on this number if you prefer. I'll speak to you soon." He ended the call and gave Michael an apologetic look. "I know you wanted me to tell him you want to talk to him, but the kid's going to be spooked enough to get that phone call. Just leave pressuring him to talk until you have him in person, alright?" he advised.

He had no idea how Michael would take an offer of comfort but Andrew reflexively just gave his shoulder a soft squeeze when he saw him getting upset and the tears coming. "Hey, I'll help you however I can, okay? Whether it's physically back at the hospital where you can't sue my ass for trying to help you, or with Blaine. But you just need to pause and breathe a little, dude. I think you're drowning in stuff you can't even recognise anymore, and as much as I hate to say it, you're pulling your kid under the surface with you," he told him just as the sirens got even closer and the ambulance pulled up behind them, lights flashing for all the world to see. "Is there anyone else you want me to call?"

Michael followed the doctors instructions meticulously, turning very slowly in his seat to lean against the airbag. It did, in fact, relieve his other arm a bit, and he gave Andrew a grateful glance. "Thanks," he said so softly he wasn't even sure Andrew would've heard him, before he repeated himself. "Thanks a lot... For helping me. You didn't have to. I would've been pissed about my car being fucked up, not trying to help the idiot who ran into me. So seriously... Thanks."

Andrew got Blaine's voicemail, and Michael was silent as the doctor left a message. He shook his head at Andrew's explanation, putting up his good hand a bit to stop him. "Don't worry about it. Just... Thanks for calling him for me." God, he hoped Blaine would come back soon, and not stay away from him. Then again, that wasn't Blaine's way. He was a good kid, and despite everything Michael had done to push him away, Blaine wasn't the type to turn his back on his family, especially when they were in trouble. "I just want to apologize to him," Michael admitted. "He told me he had a boyfriend, and I didn't say anything... It was just... Surprising is all. I wasn't angry, and I was going to tell him that, but... Honestly, why the fuck would he believe it, anyway?"

There was a gratefulness in Michael's face that was showing up for maybe the first time with Dr. Pearson since the night he'd saved Blaine's life, and he nodded. "Thank you. The... uh... The ambulance is almost here, right? Because my fucking arm really hurts." He didn't verbally acknowledge Andrew's statement, but he did give a short nod. He knew that it was true, he just didn't know where to even start to deal with any of it. The more he thought about it, he wasn't sure of the last time he'd dealt with a majr happening in his life. Probably not since Blaine was born. That was a big change, he'd not only handled at the time, but loved every moment of until the entirety of their family dynamic changed with the loss of Ben. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he was harboring a great deal of grief that he'd never let himself deal with. But before Michael could get into that, the ambulance was arriving, and Michael racked his brain to think of who best to call before he finally said, "Call Brian Kinney. His number's in my phone." He didn't particularly want his mother there right away, with the way she sometimes reacted to things, but Brian was the most together person he knew when it came to high-stress situations, and Michael knew it. "He's my best friend... Blaine's godfather."

"Yeah, well, until I know your injuries are only superficial, I'm sure the car won't mind if I leave it to its own devices for a little while. Just try and keep movement to the minimum, alright? I'm not just saying that to be a prick. People present all the time seeming okay, and then next thing we know they have internal bleeding or spinal injuries. I'll just get you to the hospital and if you want another doctor to take over, that's fine. I know you're really not my number one fan," Andrew added, looking through Michael's phone for the number he indicated. Again, he got voicemail and left a more succinct message for this Brian guy than he had Blaine. Michael had an accident, he was going to the hospital, could you come and do your friend thing... or thereabouts anyway.

He put the phone back into his pocket. "How is that surprising? Because you don't want him to be gay? Or because you expected more lead up to it? Don't answer that, you can tell me in ambulance." The paramedics came over then, but Andrew wanted to deliberately leave the question with Michael longer so he could stew on it. The paramedics were succinct, and the police came very shortly after. That was when both cars were left in the capable hands of the cops, and probably towing guys eventually. They were both assured things woul dbe taken care of so they could both go to the hospital.

Now Andrew was sitting in the back of the ambulance with Michael, rubbing at his own neck that was still hurting from the jarring of the impact. "Were you really surprised about the boyfriend thing, or was it just the penny finally dropping that you really couldn't turn your son straight? Not that I'm judging you on that. I don't have your side of the story, I only have Blaine's. Blaine is a smart kid, and he's got an innocence about him you should nuture. Telling him he's going to get HIV because he's gay is pretty harsh, when you should just be grateful he's not even sexually active yet, dude, and that's he's waiting for someone special."

"I didn't see who you were at first," Michael admitted. "When you got out of the car, I just saw your outline more or less... I thought you were coming to kick my ass, and I didn't know how I was going to defend myself with a fucked up arm." He offered Andrew a weak smile that was a bit more like a grimace. "You... um... had a really gorgeous car. I'm sorry." Michael fell uncharacteristically quiet for a few long seconds there, and looked up at Andrew. "I'm sorry I was a dick to you... You were just trying to help." It wasn't extravagant as apologies went, but it was sincere and from the heart. "And thank you for calling Brian. And Blaine." It hit Michael hard that he'd seriously been a dick to the doctor, who had only been trying to help him, and he did feel like an ass for doing that. Andrew sure as hell didn't deserve it, and here he was, helping Michael anyway, despite all the crap that he'd said to him before.

He'd been just about to answer Andrew's question when the doctor stopped him, and it hit him that maybe he didn't have an easy answer anyway. The paramedics were extremely careful, but somehow managed to pair that with being exceptionally quick at getting Michael out of the car, much to his relief. He wasn't sure how much longer he could've put up with being more or less trapped in his car without freaking the fuck out.

Once they were in the ambulance, Michael's eyes trained in on the young doctor again. Fuck, but he really was gorgeous. Michael had definitely noticed before, but he'd managed to push that to the back of his mind, but right now, he was in a vulnerable state where avoiding the fact that the doctor he totally wasn't into was hotter than fuck was the last thing on his mind, and the thought just sort of slipped into his subconscious along with all the other things swirling around there. When Andrew finally spoke again, Michael tried to shrug, only to have a paramedic put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I think it was a little bit of everything. Plus realizing I'd pushed him so fucking hard that he didn't even tell me he liked Kurt, and feeling like the world's shittiest father. I already had one son hide his relationship from me for the opposite reason... He didn't want me and his dad to know he was straight... I tried... at first, when Blaine came out, I tried to be supportive, even though it scared the shit out of me after what happened to my husband, but... Then he got bashed, and... I couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt like that again." It was probably the most honest he'd been about this whole thing to anyone, and he was surprising even himself. "And I thought maybe... If I could just... convince him not to be gay, he'd be okay... Nobody would hurt him and he wouldn't end up Positive, and..." Fuck, that was it, and Michael was dissolving into tears, despite all his best efforts not to. "I'm going to lose him," he sobbed. "I'm going to lose him and it's all my fault."

When the paramedic saw Andrew rubbing at his neck, he soon found himself being unceremoniously handed an ice pack with a knowing look. They knew each other from the many times she had brought patients to the ER and he just gave her a faint, long-suffering glance before he took the pack and held it to the part of his neck that was hurting. "You're all Blaine's got at the end of the day, so you really need to be more careful in taking care of yourself, you know. But I know when I'm getting fuck-off vibes and I shouldn't have stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted, whether I was trying to help or not. I've just been invested in Blaine's case for a long time, and I care about the kid's welfare. That's all it boiled down to at the end of the day. He's still battling with a lot of things, and if anything little thing can ease that pressure on him, I'll help him with it. If he wants me to, of course. I left the ball in his court."

He watched Michael, contemplating how best to make his next point as tactfully as he could. "You give your kid life, but you can't run it for them. If that makes sense. You raise them, you teach them ways that you hope will lead to them making the right decisions for their welfare, but you can't inject your own desires and wants into them, or you lead to exactly what you have come to with Blaine. A kid who is so confused and so desperately wanting to do the right thing that just the merest of attempts to be himself lead him to feel like he's failing or screwing up. If you want a bit of tough love here, you really need to back off and let him be himself, dude, or he is going to walk away from you and never look back. And that is the better route. The kid's struggled with a post-traumatic psychologically ailment and he could just as easily try to kill himself again if you keep trying to forced him into something he isn't. So, you're not a fan of the kid being gay, but apparently the only reason is because you don't want him to get HIV or be bashed. Dude, you have spooked your kid into such a corner, the only way he has seen out of it is to duck and dodge you so he doesn't need to keep feeling bad. I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart, that you lost your husband to HIV, but the medical advancements in that field since he would have been diagnosed is mind-blowing. You keep your kids more informed, you reduce the risk significantly. But inform him, don't be the freaking boogeyman and use scares tactics to ward him off it. You're just playing mind games with him, and that's not fair because he is a great kid, you've done a great job... up until you wanted to start changing him. That's when your job turned maybe not so good. And you will lose him if you keep it up and don't stop now, and change stuff with him."

Michael noticed, then, that Andrew was hurt, too, and his eyes flicked to the other man's face quickly. "Oh, shit... You're hurt, too. I'm so sorry." This really was a royal fucking mess, and honestly, how the fuck, of all the people in the car he hit, did it end up being Andrew? Apparently, the universe was either really pissed at him, or really thought he needed to listen to this guy. He peered up at Andrew with a nod. "I know. And it's okay. I was a dick to you when I should've been grateful to you for what you were doing. You've been amazing with Blaine, and... Honestly, your concern for Blaine wasn't really... I guess... I had other mental blocks up about you that had nothing to do with Blaine. But I am sorry. I really don't know what else to say."

Looking up at Andrew, Michael realized that his eyes were probably as big around as saucers. None of this was really a revelation at its heart, but it was as if he was hearing it all for the first time. It had never been his intention to put Blaine through the kind of emotional hell that people he loved had been through. So what if he was queer? He was trying to force his son into not being, like Brian's parents, and Justin's dad, and that thought alone made Michael sick to his stomach. This was fucking horrible, and it was wrong, and it was something he had to change as soon as possible. "I'm not going to lose that kid," Michael replied, a firm tone in his voice. And he wouldn't as long as he still had breath to fight to keep the boy in his life. He had a lot of lost ground to make up, but it was worth it to do what was best for his son and for him and for their relationship. "Andrew," Michael said, for the first time calling the doctor by his offered first name without calling him Dr. Pearson first. "I've been thinking about what you said to me before... About Post-Traumatic Stress... And I was wondering if you knew a good shrink you could refer me to... I have to do something because I can't keep doing this to my kid. I can't do that to him."

"It's nothing. Soft tissue strain at best. Nothing some ice and anti-inflammatory cream won't fix." Andrew knew he was actually pretty lucky to not have whiplash, but he had enough range-of-movement in his neck to know it wasn't that. It was just sore and uncomfortable, but he would live. At least he had some days off after this and he fully planned on using them to catch up on a lot of lost sleep. It was a bitch about his car, though. He hated public transport with a passion. "I was never intending to overstep lines, and I assure you wholeheartedly that it will never happen again. Professional distance and all that. I'll manage Blaine's case and he can give you what information you need from there. I'll even make sure you're dealt with swiftly at the ER so you don't need to put up with me any longer than you have to."

He just raised his eyebrows slightly, tiredly, not sure he could just take Michael's resolved word that he wasn't going to lose Blaine. Andrew was the kid's doctor and he knew how precarious Blaine's emotions had been in the wake of his beating. He just couldn't understand why Michael wasn't protecting and nurturing the kid for dear life already following a suicide attempt. Sure, it was one thing to have hangs ups and fears of your own, but they should never be put above your own kid... especially one with a past like Blaine's. "Secondary post-traumatic stress. Blaine's ordeal caused you to flip out. Normally I wouldn't have said anything, but when I realised your mindset and feelings over the whole thing were causing a deep detrimental impact on Blaine's welfare, I had to say something. The kid has a suicidal past, Michael. That is really something that should be constantly at the forefront of your mind with him, not where he wants to experiment putting his dick at some undetermined point in the future. Straight kids are just as much at risk of being hurt than gay kids. You have drugs, peer-pressure, bullying for any number of reasons beyond sexuality, you have rave parties, driving under the influence, sleeping around... just to name a few. And you know what? Your kid is interested in none of those things. Whatsoever. He's a great kid with a practical and mature head. You should be grateful of that. I can give you a referral when we get to the hospital. You can make a choice of which one would suit you best. But I don't think it's completely Blaine's attack causing your issues, Michael. I think you need to dig more further and deeper... and start with facing the loss of your husband, no matter how much you just want to bury your head in the sand about it. Because that, right there, is what ultimately caused all of this irrational behaviour with Blaine. And until you deal with that, you're always going to have a huge stonewall built up around you preventing you from maybe finding things that can make you happy for the future, rather than being stuck in a past you won't ever get back."

"You didn't overstep any lines," Michael admitted quietly. "You acted out of concern for my son, and that's exactly what I asked you to do when you became his doctor." It was one of the few things Michael did remember clearly about the night he'd almost lost his son. How he'd stood there helplessly, begging Andrew to do whatever it took to save Blaine as he sobbed, convinced that those evil fuckers had killed his son, but begging God or whoever was listening not to take him away, not yet... Not until Michael had already died at a ripe old age. Not now. Andrew had been there, strong and calm in the situation, calling on all of his medical training, no doubt, to keep it together in the crisis situation, and he had given Michael his son back. "You saved him... More than once. When those fuckers beat him, and then again when he tried to... When he hurt himself... Andrew, I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. It's seriously fine. I'm... I'm sorry about your car, but it's better that you were there." Although exactly why that was, Michael wasn't even sure. He just knew that he was grateful.

Michael's dark eyes moved to watch the doctor's face, and it hit him hard when Andrew indicated that maybe he hadn't ever dealt with Ben's death. The fact was that, deep down, there was a part of Michael that knew that, and he moved his good arm to wipe his eyes, though not without a glare from the paramedic, who apparently was with Andrew on team "don't move too much." "I know that I'm messed up," Michael said finally. "I know that I'm a fucked up mess, and I'm not what my kid needs in a father right now. I'm just terrified... Terrified of what might happen to him, and terrified that if something else does happen, it'll be because I didn't do everything I could to protect him. But the thing is, I don't even know what I need to do to protect him anymore. And that scares me more than anything else. If I lose him, too... I can't. I can't lose my boy, Andrew. I can't."

Andrew just listened quietly, not interrupting Michael as he spoke. It was the truth, though. All Andrew had ever done was act out of concern for Blaine from the moment his beaten, bloody and broken body showed up on a gurney that night on Andrew's shift. He had been having seizures in the ambulance, Andrew had been so convinced the poor kid was brain damaged and could be talking to the father sooner rather than later about shutting off life support. He had taken heavy beatings and kicks to the brain and back, he had been kicked in the groin, just narrowly missing his genitals which could have rendered him infertile. But Blaine had been a little trooper and once he pulled through that first night, his condition began to stabilise. He was critical for about a month following, but his case was one of those that mate Andrew feel lucky he ever chose to be a doctor. "For the record, your mother saved him the second time. She was the one who got her fingers down his throat and made him sick. We just pumped his stomach and made him to down charcoal solution to dilute any long-term damage of the pills. That's something she probably relives every day of her life."

"You're everything your kid needs in a father if you just stop pretending what is right there in front of your eyes and stop pushing him away. You've pushed him so far, he's started to believe it. He's started to believe you only care if he is everything you demand he should be. Do you know how stressful and damaging that can be on a kid? On any normal kid, even. You tell them something often enough, they believe it. Blaine's no normal kid. He has tried to be everything you want him to be, but he's orbiting out here in some lonely universe alone where there is no one to simply hug him when it all hurts too much. He's reached out to this kid at school and they've hooked up. If something else happens, Michael, you have to fucking grab your balls and be there for your son, not standing there wibbling that it might happen again. It might. I wish I could tell you that it wouldn't, but no one knows what is around the corner. And for Blaine, it's a whole lot of demons he is terrified of because he doesn't have his dad standing there at his side fighting with him against them. He has his dad on the same team as the demons. Only you can change that. I can't change it for you, Blaine can't change it. Only you can. So, he's gay and he has a boyfriend now. Why do you think that is? Because the kid accepted Blaine unconditionally and rather than telling him everything he shouldn't be, he said 'Hey, let's get up there and be us... together, and screw the haters'."

That was something Debbie had never let Michael forget, either. How she'd been forced to stick her fingers down her beloved grandson's throat to keep the pills from taking effect and killing the boy. How maybe, if his father had loved and supported him the way he needed him to, Blaine wouldn't have ever gone so far and tried to take his own life. But the fact was, Michael had let his son down in so many ways. He'd failed to be the father that he should've been. The father that Ben would've wanted him to be.

"I want to do that," Michael confessed weakly. "I want to help my kid... I want to do the right thing by him and be a father he can trust to be there for him. Trust me, I know I've fucked up... Royally and often with Blaine. He's a good kid, and I've made him feel like he's not good enough for me, and that's fucking horrible. I know it is. But I want to stop being this way. I just... I need help, Andrew, because there's a hell of a lot of background here that needs to be dealt with. Things I need to face and move past for Blaine's sake. I can't help him if I can't get my head right, and it... It hasn't been for a very long time." The things Andrew was saying weren't things Michael hadn't heard before. Not by a long shot. He'd heard them from everybody. Debbie, Brian, Justin, even Hunter. But it had taken what happened with Blaine tonight for it to all come crashing down on Michael just how far he'd pushed his precious child away from him. He'd seriously hurt the most important person in his life time and time again, and there was nothing he could do to go back and change that, but for fuck's sake. He had to stop doing it, and soon or it would be too late. What if Blaine tried to hurt himself again, and this time, no one was there to save him? Or what if he grew up and wanted nothing to do with Michael anymore? Michael couldn't let that happen. And he would do whatever it might take to change things before he didn't have the option.

Andrew didn't labour the point on Blaine's past suicide attempt. The poor kid had really worked hard in the wake of it with Lilah to get back on his feet, and really, it had just come when he felt like he couldn't cope with everything in the wake of his attack. Whilst he had been healing physically, mentally at the time he had been still weakened, especially following a brain injury. The brain injury meant Blaine had to face even more psychological therapy to get better, and the suicide attempt had been a bi-product of that. The physical progress he had made meant it masked the psychological distress. It happened so quickly, no one saw the signs. In fact, even Mrs Novotny had said that right before it happened, Blaine had been helping her in the garden tending to her deceased brothers roses. Then he went into the bathroom, and never came back out.

"It's not just a question of fucking up, Michael. It wasn't even technically fucking up, because you made the conscious decision for this to be the way you raised him. Being gay yourself, you knew inside you were somewhat betraying some of your own beliefs and some of who you are, but you thought it was protecting him. Blaine isn't going to wear any of this if you just repeatedly keep saying you fucked up like it was a mistake. I know it sucks and it's going to hurt, but you need to tell him that you made the wrong choices for the wrong reasons. It wasn't just fucking up. Okay? He needs to know you own the errors you made rather than just palming them off screw ups. It might not seem like there is any difference, but trust me. With Blaine, it will be a hell of a lot of difference. One is trying to lay blame on some past trauma for why you were like you were, but this? It's saying to him you were wrong and that will be a massive thing for him to hear. That you did get it wrong, but you now you want to get it right for him, and you want to listen to his own wants and needs, and take them on board rather than just dumping a whole lot of shit on him that you think is best. It's time to cut the crap, Michael, and listen to what your boy needs, from him," he told him, cutting straight to the chase finally.

It hit Michael hard and fast what Andrew was getting at. There was no question in his mind that the young doctor was completely right. This wasn't just a matter of, "Damn, I bought the wrong brand of toilet paper by mistake." This was his kid's life. This was Blaine, and all the things that he needed from a father that Michael had chosen not to give him because he was fucking afraid. Because he had let something that happened the better part of twenty years ago get such a hold of him that it was the only basis he used for making decisions, even decisions that centered on his son's welfare. He had never intended on doing that to Blaine, but in the end, if not for his mother's quick thinking, Michael would have the guilt of his own son's death on his hands, and that was a sobering thought indeed.

He just stared up at the doctor in silence for a long few moments, his body sore and banged up from the accident, but far less miserable than his heart and mind as he processed through what Andrew was saying. "I will," he said, firmly and leaving no room to question how sure of this he was. "I'm going to be a father to my kid... Not some asshole he can't trust. I remember when he was a little guy... I'd hold him on my lap at night and read him stories, and I used to tell him, 'Nothing is ever going to make me stop loving you.' And he'd always give me this... This look with those eyes of his, and ask me to promise. I've never broken that promise, but I sure as hell have made Blaine feel like I did."

Andrew didn't want to labour the point. He did want to drive the point home, but there was no need to flog the dead horse when it was already sinking into Michael the enormity of everything and how important it was to start to pick up the pieces with Blaine. Blaine was a smart kid and he was tough too. A fighter, through and through. But it wouldn't ever take much to tip him back over the edge and he was still suffering post-traumatic issues in the wake of his attack. He and his father had to deal with this as a team, and Andrew was relieved that Andrew was finally starting to see this. He did wish things hadn't gotten awkward in the process, but Andrew was like a dog with a bone himself. He had Blaine's welfare and best interests at heart, and at the end of the day, Blaine was the number one priority here. Michael's past was tragic and very sad, but he had a child to protect now, just in different ways that he original thought he should or he might very well lose someone else he loves.

"Don't just be his father, dude. Be his dad. Any man can be a father, but there is only one person who can be his dad," Andrew said with a small smile and gave Michael's uninjured shoulder a small squeeze. They were pulling into the drive of the emergency department and Andrew shifted so they would be able to get the stretcher out of the ambulance. "Get some rest, dude. I'll be with you inside as soon as I sign my life away. I'm not on shift, so I have to do some sweet-talking. In the meantime, while you wait, use it to sit and process the fact your kid has a boyfriend, and it sounds like it's the real deal. Because that will take a whole new level of being a dad right there."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Walking on ice, get it right once, you gotta mess it up twice..."

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