The door slamming shut echoed through the house.

“Well,” Justin cleared his throat, “I guess he’s not going to be my new ‘daddy’ then.”

Kurt scoffed and made his way to the coffee machine. “I thought maybe you’d set him on fire he jumped up and ran out so fast.”

Bless everything that there are timers on these things. He noticed missing coffee from the pot. “Did you give him coffee?”

“Oh please. It’s not me who scares these guys away. Well it is me, but more the idea of me. Not actually me, until you throw our familial relationship in their faces. ‘Oh hey here’s my son! A son I have one! Look at my kid!’ And I didn’t give him coffee I served him coffee like a good host.”

“Familial? Was that your word for today?” Kurt asked as he took the newly vacated seat. This kid was too smart for his own good. “I knew that word of the day calendar was a bad idea when I bought it for you. You use bigger words than I do sometimes.”

He was rewarded with his own trademark eye roll. “Actually it was my word two weeks ago. Thanks for noticing.”

Kurt hummed a response and took a sip of coffee. “Smart ass.”

“Flattery won’t make up for your poor parenting. I’m gonna go wake up Tana its her turn to make breakfast.” He gracefully leapt off the stool and ran down the hall.

“What happened to my sweet baby?” Kurt called after him.

“You warped him into your clone,” Justin’s retreating voice replied.

Well there was no denying that fact. Kurt couldn’t remember the exact moment that it had happened but he always felt that it had something to do with his insistence that no one ever baby talk to his son. Which often led to people forgetting that Justin was still a child.

His son. Fuck, even after almost eight years it was still an alien concept to him that he, Kurt Hummel, was a father. His more flamboyant sixteen-year-old self would have shuddered at the thought of becoming a father in just four short years.

This was not how he thought his life would be. He had large aspirations for himself. Broadway. The big city lights. He was supposed to be rubbing elbows with the beautiful and the glamorous. Living the ritzy life of a star. Not Las Vegas. Being a bartender on The Strip. Serving booze to people living more exciting lives, or at least pretending to be. Trying like a motherfucker to raise a child to be a productive member of society. No, this was not the life he had dreamed.

But, he had to be honest with himself.

He couldn’t imagine life being any other way.

He had to smile at the thought.

My life is actually pretty damn near close to perfect.

He was rudely snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Justin’s small feet running back to the kitchen. A very cranky, still half asleep Latina woman soon followed him.

“Christ Hummel, can’t you teach your kid the concept of beauty sleep?” She paused for a moment in front of the refrigerator. “And shit, if you’re already awake why don’t you cook breakfast for the bottomless pit here?”

She yanked the door open to retrieve the makings of their breakfast.

“Wait a hot damn minute!” She slammed the door closed with her hip. “Why are you already awake? You worked last night! Oh for fuck’s sake Kurt. You had someone over last night!”

“Santana!” Kurt cut her off, a hand in the air. “Now I know I’ve always had a very strict policy of not treating Justin like some porcelain doll but seriously? Tone down the language for my sake!”

He cast a glance at Justin back across from him to see his son trying valiantly to hold in his laughter.

“But you did though right?” She asked as she pulled out the frying pan.

“Santana—”

“His name is Eric,” Justin giggled. “I served him coffee and we were having a nice chat before Dad showed up. Then he ran without even a proper good-bye.”

“You know something Kurt? No matter how many times I see it I still get a little weirded out at this little game you and the kid run for your sleepovers.” The bacon sizzled when it hit the heated pan. “Some people might think it sick. Some form of child abuse even.”

Kurt shrugged at her words. “Let us have our fun. And no one needs to know about our ‘little game’ as you put it.”

“Yeah,” Justin piped up. He scrambled to prepare Santana’s coffee before she could turn her wrath on him. He knew how to make it just the way she liked it, coffee flavored sugar-milk. “And just so long as Papa Burt and Mama Carol never find out, screw everyone else.”

Kurt dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Look Santana. See what your mouth has caused?”

He turned his best stern look to his son. “Justin when you’re eighteen and a legal adult you can talk however you like. But for now, at the very least in my presence, I’m going to need to ask that you not talk like Tana. Deal?”

“Deal Dad,” Justin beamed up at him. Justin never got in trouble. Conversations about behavior modifications were aplenty in the house but never serious trouble.

“You two make me sick.” Santana continued to bang around the kitchen, lest the boys forget that she was there and needed attention. “He’s the perfect child and you’re the perfect father when by all rights he should be a horrendous little twerp for being born to a flaming twenty year old.”

Father and son shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll rebel when I’m a teenager,” Justin suggested.

“Maybe I’ll ship you to Lima if you do,” Kurt responded.

Justin choked on air at the threat. “Father?”

Oh this should be good.

“I swear that I’ll remain an angel for the rest of my life.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about. Now, aren’t there televangelists on for you to make fun of, or something?”

Justin cast a knowing grin. “You just want to get rid of me so you can tell Tana all about Eric don’t you?”

“Justin—”

The boy shot out of the kitchen. “I’m going, I’m going!”

Santana laughed and flipped the eggs. “Your kid is a handful. But he raised a good point. What did you raise last night?”

Kurt sighed. “Some drifter. The usual Vegas tourist. He caught my eye so after my shift I brought him here. And then Justin chased him off this morning with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.”

“Justin didn’t like him?”

“Does it matter?” Kurt looked at her incredulously. “Even if didn’t bolt I don’t have the time or the inclination for anything more. You know this Santana.”

“I just— look. This,” she gestured at him, “can’t be good for the kid; to see his father, his only parent, and his revolving door of men on Sunday mornings. Justin serving coffee before you two scare the Hell out of them as some sort of twisted team.”

Kurt sighed again. “Its like you said. It’s just a game to us. I fuck them and he chases them off. And we do it with smiles on our faces.”

“Maybe I think you deserve more?” She shrugged.

“Like what?” He settled in for story time.

“I don’t know; to be happy? Find someone to settle down with? To help you raise Justin? Don’t you want to make his life easier? You were raised by a single father, wasn’t it nicer when Burt married Carol?”

Breakfast was served but its announcement was on hold until their discussion was finished.

“He’s already being raised by his biological gay father. Don’t you think that having two might make his life harder?” Kurt was tired of this same argument. From Santana and from his own father. “And I don’t need someone to help me raise him Santana because you are helping me raise him.” He reached across the table to give her hand a gentle squeeze.

“And having a boyfriend would mean I’d have to split my already limited time even more. And Justin has to come first for me, always.”

“Kurt,” Santana threw an arm over her best friend’s shoulder. “From the second that kid came squealing out of his mother he has been your number one priority.”

The air in the kitchen was thick with the serious conversation. A direct violation of rule #6 of the household.

“Well,” Santana cleared her throat. “Enough of this shit. Was the guy last night good at least?”

Relieved at the turn of conversation Kurt chuckled against her neck. “He wasn’t the worst, but I’ve had better. He was a growler though. I thought for sure he was going to wake you guys up.”

“A growler?”

“Yeah,” Kurt sat up straight.  “Grrrrr yeah oh, grrrrr you grrrrrrr like that grrrrr I’ma come so hard grrrrrr.”

“Oh sweet Jesus is that what I heard?” Her laughter warmed his heart.

“You heard nothing.” God he hoped he was right. If Santana heard the growling then Justin would have for sure. And the kid already knew too much about Kurt’s sex life. He hoped to avoid completely traumatizing his child until he was at least in his teens and contemplating having sex for himself.

“God Kurt, you really know how to pick ‘em.” She set breakfast out on the table at their usual places. “Adult conversation over for this week? Good. Squirt, come eat!”

Justin walked solemnly into the kitchen with his hands folded in front of him.

Oh shit what this time? I need to stop encouraging this, its going to bite is both in the ass one day.

“If I may, Santana, Father,” he placed his hands on the table and took a deep breath.

“But He was pierced for our transgressions,” he started slowly, “He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that bought us peace was Him. It was Him!” Justin shouted, eyes closed, head thrown back in exultation.  “And by his stripes we are healed! Can I get an amen!” His hands spread wide over his head.

Too used to Justin’s Sunday morning antics, Kurt and Santana sat stone-faced and waited for the “holy spirit” to pass so they could start eating.

Justin cocked an eye open. “Not so much? Can I get something here?”

“Sit your ass down and eat your food!” Santana fought her laughter down. “Theatricality must be genetic because I swear I saw your father act like an attention whore just like that in high school.”

“Oh that’s right I was the only one,” Kurt turned his attention back to Justin. “And what did we learn this morning?”

“The Christian faith is based on human sacrifice,” he happily tucked into his scrambled eggs.

Kurt’s forehead became close acquaintance with the kitchen table. “And what do we do with this new knowledge?”

“Save it for a rainy day?” Justin wrinkled his nose. “I’m not stupid Dad I know that running my mouth off could get me into trouble. But if I’m not the one who starts it, well then.”

“We live in Vegas Kurt,” Santana added. “You don’t have to be so afraid.”

“Being afraid has always been second nature to me,” Kurt sat back up and gave a sad smile to his little family. “And Sweetie, I know you’re not stupid and that is a large part of what scares me. And yes Santana, I know we live in Vegas but that doesn’t change the fact that there are assholes everywhere.”

Santana snorted.

“Santana!” Kurt warned.

“Its just that—“

“Don’t!”

“You’d think that you’d enjoy that there are assholes everywhere,” she burst into laughter.

Father and son both found their heads dropped against the table.

“Uncalled for,” Justin mumbled.

“Inappropriate conversation with a young child present.”

“Hmmm, I was totally right,” two pairs of glasz eyes glared up at her. “You are both drama queens.”