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"I am going to kill him," Bryan says, stomping back and forth in front of the couch where David's sitting. Just sitting, acting like everything is completely fine. "How are you not more upset about this? What is wrong with you?"
"Hon, he's a teenager," David says, grabbing his wrist and tugging him down onto the sofa. "Teenagers do things like stay out past curfew. We talked about this, remember? That giant freak out you had when he turned twelve?"
Bryan raises an eyebrow pointedly.
"That giant freak out that we had," David corrects quickly. "The one that up until now was entirely pointless because Blaine's a good kid?"
"That's exactly the problem," Bryan says, refusing to be calmed, even if David's doing a pretty good job of it by rubbing slowly at his back. "He's an excellent kid. If he was going to do this stuff, he should have already been doing it. He can't just be well-behaved for sixteen years and then suddenly decide to rebel. We're not prepared for this."
"He's thirty minutes late, Bry, don't spiral out of control," David says with a sigh.
"I'm not spiraling out of control, David, but mark my words, pretty soon he'll be selling the silver for drug money and making meth in the basement and staying out hours past curfew." David gives him that look he gets that he thinks Bryan doesn't know about, the one that means Bryan's being ridiculous, but before he can call him on it, headlights flash in the window as a car pulls into the driveway, and Bryan's on his feet, racing for the door.
He throws it open just in time to see Kurt opening the passenger side door of his car and Blaine literally tumbling out, giggling as he grabs onto Kurt's shoulders. "Oh god," Bryan says. "He's not--"
"He's completely drunk," David says from behind him, using his Stern Dad Voice - the one that Bryan's only heard him use two times before, and both of those times involved destruction of very expensive property. "I can't believe he went out and got drunk after specifically promising us he wouldn't drink."
"Okay, honey, now I think you might be spiraling," Bryan says, putting a steadying hand at the small of his back. "We should at least let him explain."
"Good luck with that," David grumbles when Blaine laughs and stumbles and almost takes Kurt down with him.
"You're so strong," Blaine slurs as they stumble closer, nuzzling his face into Kurt's shoulder. "And you smell so good. Did you know that you smell so good?" Kurt shushes him, looking at Bryan and David nervously as he helps Blaine stumble up the steps.
"Um, hi," he says. "Blaine kind of accidentally got a little... inebriated."
"Drunk," Blaine says. "I got drunk, and I got so sick but Kurt took care of me. Kurt's great."
"He's a real peach," Bryan says. "But that's not really the issue at hand right now, Blaine."
"I know," Blaine says, looking up at them with earnest, wide eyes. "I know I said I wouldn't drink but then Puck said the punch wasn't booze but he lied. Puck lied," Blaine repeats, giggling a little and turning more fully into Kurt's side, nuzzling his nose at Kurt's neck. "Mmm," he hums happily, starting to kiss Kurt's neck, and Kurt freezes, looking helplessly at Bryan until he takes pity on him and grabs Blaine by the shoulders, tugging him off of Kurt.
"No, hey," Blaine says, pouting at him. "Dad, that's my Kurt. You can't take me away from my Kurt." Bryan rolls his eyes, turning to David for some backup, but David's still standing with his arms crossed, his jaw tight as he glares at Blaine.
"Kurt, did you drink?" David asks.
"No, sir, I was the designated driver," Kurt says quickly. "Blaine really didn't know about the punch, I swear, and he begged me to take him home with me. I was going to call you and explain but halfway there he got really upset and started crying and said he had to come home because he promised so I turned around. I know we're late, I really was going to call as soon as we got home, but--"
"Hey, hey, it's okay," David says, cutting off Kurt's panicked babbling. "Is it past your curfew? Do you need me to call your dad and explain?"
"No, I already called," Kurt sighs. "From the side of the road!" he adds hastily. "I didn't talk on my phone while I was driving."
"Kurt's very good," Blaine says, making moon eyes at Kurt as he leans against Bryan's side. "And so handsome."
"Why don't you head home, Kurt," David says gently. "Thanks for getting him home for us."
"Of course," Kurt says. "I'm sorry about all this."
"Not your fault," David says, reaching out and clapping him on the shoulder.
"Goodnight... everyone," Kurt says, taking a vague step toward Blaine before David clears his throat and he clearly thinks better of it, waving awkwardly instead.
"Goodnight, sugar buns," Blaine mumbles, giggling into Bryan's shoulder, and Bryan rolls his eyes, turning around and steering Blaine through the door.
"I realize that you are entirely too drunk to realize just how much trouble you're in," David says as soon as the door's shut behind them. "But you are in so, so much trouble, young man."
"I'm so sorry," Blaine says, his face crumbling. David shoots Bryan a warning look, and Bryan somehow manages to control himself and not stick his tongue out in response. Just because he's kind of a sucker for Blaine's sad face doesn't mean he's entirely lost sight of the situation, thank you very much.
"I didn't mean to, but then I had punch and I was so drunk and then Puck told me that the vodka didn't really have vodka in it either, so I drank some of that, and then I was more drunk but then Kurt was there, and he was so warm and handsome and he smells so good and he took care of me when I stopped feeling good and started feeling bad," Blaine says earnestly, his eyes getting a starry and far away look in them.
"That's great," David says, his voice still hard. "But I think it's time for you to go to bed, and then tomorrow, when you are really hating your life? Then we're going to have a talk." Blaine nods but doesn't move to get up, his lower lip trembling a little when he turns to cuddle up to Bryan's arm instead.
"I think I'm going to marry him," Blaine says in what Bryan's pretty sure is supposed to be a whisper. "There was this moment, when he was wiping my forehead with a washcloth after I puked, and I just... I just knew. He's the one, dad."
Bryan can't help the breathless little noise he makes, his eyes going wide and pleading automatically as he turns to stare at David. This is one of those big parenting moments. His little boy's in love.
"Oh god," David sighs, marching over to detach Blaine from Bryan's side. "Go to bed, Blaine. Drink a glass of water, brush your teeth, and go to bed." Blaine nods fervently before gasping and clutching at his head.
"Oh hey, oww," he says.
"Oh you don't know the half of it, sweetheart," Bryan says. "Listen to your Pops, I'll come check on you in a few minutes, okay?" Blaine nods, very slowly and very carefully this time, before he starts to trudge up the stairs, mumbling little owwws with each step.
"Don't even," David says as soon as Blaine's up the stairs. "Don't let his drunken confession of love turn you into a great big softie. Remember what you said, about the meth and the stolen silver."
"But he's in love," Bryan sighs, wrapping an arm around David's waist and pouting down at him. "Did you see his little face? He's so smitten. He's a smitten little kitten."
"Bryan," David groans.
"Oh, hush," Bryan says, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "I'm plenty mad about the drinking and the curfew breaking but you have to admit, that was adorable." David doesn't answer, and Bryan grins because David only refuses to answer him when he's right and David's wrong.
"In a few years we could be planning their wedding," Bryan says, tugging David down onto the couch with him with a happy sigh. "Our little boy, growing up and getting married."
"Babe, he's sixteen," David says, smiling at him fondly. "Besides, even if it did happen, don't you think they might want to plan their own wedding?"
"What they want and what will happen are two very different things," Bryan says happily. "I mean, come on, tell me the thought of walking our son down the aisle doesn't make you all warm and gooey inside."
"Maybe a little," David admits, dropping his head to Bryan's shoulder. "But the fact that our son is currently drunk off of his ass is doing an awful lot to counteract any gooey feelings I might be having." There's a loud crash from upstairs, almost as if on cue, and David sighs, standing and heading for the stairs.
"Be nice, he's in love!" Bryan calls after him. David turns and rolls his eyes, and Bryan huffs, rethinking his tactics. "Be nice, it will be much more fun being mean tomorrow when he's very, very hung over?" he tries. David considers it for a moment, then grins widely, blowing him a kiss before he stomps the rest of the way up the stairs.