After returning from measuring up the aptly named 'triangle' that had a very high probability of becoming Kurt's home from home for the rest of the academic year (as it was the only option within the budget); both Carole and Kurt had commandeered the en-suite and family bathroom, respectively, to indulge in bubble baths. Finn was engrossed in some form of video game and Burt had been scribbling over the printed floorplan of the ‘triangle’ trying to come up with a clothing storage solution for Kurt.

However, Burt Hummel was currently faced with a different dilemma: he needed to pee. Did he go to the en-suite and annoy his new wife, or did he use the family bathroom and annoy his son?

'At the end of the day, Kurt's still a guy, and guys have to pee in front of each other at urinals all the time.' was Burt's logical thinking. He trekked to the family bathroom, briefly knocking before entering and heading directly for the lavatory.

"Dad! You have got to be kidding me!" Kurt screeched, sinking down into the bubbles out of sheer mortification.

"Sorry kiddo, I gotta go..." Burt replied, lifting the toilet seat.

"Woah! Some things I do not need to see!" Kurt cried, moving so that he was sitting up and facing the wall away from his Dad.

"Well, consider it really late revenge for the number of times you peed on me when I changed your diapers!" Burt replied, taking care of business.

"This is a completely different context! Just hurry up, flush, wash your hands and go!" Kurt complained, concentrating intently on the tiles on the wall. Finally, his Father flushed the toilet, and Kurt had never been happier to hear the squeal of the tap as the handle turned.

"Kurt... Oh God." Burt gasped, his hand on his chest.

"Dad! Dad! Oh my God! What's wrong? Can you breathe? Sit down, legs in the 'W' position like the hospital told us. I'm gonna get out of the tub and call nine-one-one..." Kurt said quickly, barely reigning in panic.

"K-Kurt, I'm fine, my heart's fine. It was just a bit of a shock. Calm down bud, I'm okay." Burt reassured, shakily.

"Its not your heart?" Kurt checked, completely forgetting he had one leg on the bathmat and one leg in the bath tub, was naked, dripping wet and getting cold.

"Not my heart kiddo, I'm good. You aren't good." Burt chided.

"You've lost me Dad." Kurt replied, reaching for a fluffy towel and pulling the plug.

"Meet me in your room in ten minutes - we need to talk." Burt said, taking a calming breath and leaving the bathroom.

"Dad?"

"You're not in any serious trouble, but we need to talk - ten minutes." Burt called over his shoulder.

It had been a long time since Kurt had viewed his own room, his own zone of tranquility with trepidation. He'd wrapped his bathrobe and silk pyjamas around him like a knight donning chainmail. Approaching the door, he wasn't sure if he had to knock to enter his own space.

"Kurt, get in here for crying out loud. I'm not gonna bite ya." Burt grumbled. "I don't think the shop's dental policy covers that."

"Sure Dad." Kurt replied meekly, not certain of his Dad's humour.

"Kiddo, your back is purple. Bruises. I saw when you were in the tub." Burt said, feeling lower than dirt and utterly furious simultaneously. He just hadn't realised just how bad it had been for his son.

"They're not so bad." Kurt replied softly, his arms wrapped around his torso as he stood a good three feet away from his Dad.

"Come here Kurt." Burt said, kicking off his shoes and reclining against the headboard. "Are you too big for a hug?"

Nervously, Kurt crawled onto the bed, sitting next to his Dad and leaning in as a strong arm was wrapped around his shoulders.

"Now, you've just told me those bruises 'aren't so bad'. Now, I'm no language-person, but I know how to translate Kurt Hummel into English... you've had worse than this, haven't you?"

In reply, Kurt nodded, turning his face away.

"Kurt, Kiddo, I need you to talk to me. You need to tell me."

"You don't... you... no... I can't." Was the mumbled reply.

"Yes you can. Give me one good reason why you can't tell me. Did that ass threaten you some more?"

"You." Kurt whispered, turning his face into his Father's shoulder.

"I don't get it, Kiddo. What did I do?"

"Your heart. The doctors said you had to avoid stress. You didn't need to know about it, I didn't want you to go back into hospital. Not again. Not when it would be my fault." Kurt sobbed.

"Oh Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt. Your compassion is amazing, but its also a pain in the ass sometimes." Burt said gently, mentally calling his doctors every single rude curse he knew - and inventing a few especially for them too.

"Telling me about this wouldn't be stress. I'm your Dad, its part of the job description. Tell me bud, its okay." Burt prompted, earning nothing but a sob and a shake of the head from Kurt.

"You can have nine-one-one ready to call if you want to." Burt compromised, saddened when Kurt actually reached for his i-phone and pressed speed-dial #2. Gingerly, Kurt reached for his wrist, his fingers pressing onto his Father's pulse.

"Okay bud, talk to me." Burt prompted, soothingly rubbing his son's bruised back, remembering to keep his touch light so not to cause any pain.

"The Neanderthals kept shoving me into lockers, sometimes walls, but mainly lockers. Not just me, pretty much all of Glee club that didn't push back, and the other people at the bottom of the popularity food chain. It happened a lot." Kurt began, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Keep going, you're doing great, its okay." Burt said, purposely breathing deeply and keeping calm so that his pulse didn't jump and panic his son.

"Its got better actually, I used to get thrown into the dumpsters too. Its not easy to find high fashion that can cope with a wash cycle hot enough to kill the germs that live in the trash. Getting food die out after a Slushie is still a pain, but at least at Dalton I don't have to worry about that because there isn't a Slushie machine and there's a uniform."

It took every single scrap of Burt's self control to not jump up and start ranting and raving at that pronouncement. How dare people throw his son, his brilliant, amazing, wonderful, caring son into a dumpster as if he was garbage? Where the Hell were all the teachers while this was going on? Where the Hell were Kurt’s friends?

"That doesn't happen any more?" Burt asked, miraculously keeping his voice level.

"No, the dumpster tosses have stopped."

"That's a start! What caused it to stop? Maybe that idiot Principle at McKinley can use it as a method to stop the locker slams?" Burt prompted, seeing a little bit of light in the situation.

"Oh Dad, you can't make all the bullies join Glee Club. Rachel would go ape!" Kurt chuckled.

"Woah! Back up a bit." Burt said, trying to comprehend what he was hearing, "Bullies joining Glee Club? As in, they used to throw you in the trash, but now they sing with you?"

"Some of them, yeah. Its okay Dad, they apologised; they've been trying to look after those of us being targetted, but they can't stick to us like glue all of the time." Kurt quickly replied.

"Kurt, you are not going back to McKinley. That's final." Burt said, tilting his son's chin so that Kurt had no choice but to look him in the eye.

"And you're not going to re-mortgage the house to pay for tuition and boarding fees! I can't let you do that to yourself, Carole or Finn!" Kurt snipped, glaring at his Father.

"This is a conversation for another day - but I mean it - you're not going back there. If it wasn't for the fact that the school wouldn't pay any attention, I'd be marching in there with photos of the state of your back to show them! I'd probably be taking legal action too! No physical proof of bullying, my ass!"

"No! Don't do that! You can't do that! I won't let you!" Kurt cried, struggling out of Burt's grasp and moving to the other side of the room.

"Kurt, Kiddo... come on, come back. I won't do that. Not if you don't want me to. Come on, come back over here." Burt said, gently trying to sooth his son back into his arms. Kurt was having none of it, and decided instead to lean against the wall.

"I'm getting you checked out by the Doctor on Monday - no arguments there - I'll call the Dean at Dalton and explain you'll either be late on Monday or not in at all, depending on the time of the appointment. I'll make sure the gym class teacher knows not to push you too hard until you're healed up." Burt said, meeting Kurt's glare unblinkingly.

"I'm okay, Dad." Kurt whispered.

"And a back-full of bruises call you a liar, bud. You're getting checked out, end of argument." Burt said, watching as Kurt resigned himself to a trip to the Doctor's office.

"I hate going to the Doctor." he mumbled.

"I agree with ya, bud; but I want to know they're just bruises, no broken bones..." Burt stood, ready to leave the room, "...You do whatever you need to do with your skin after your bath. You and Carole have these scary rituals you do with your potions and lotions."

"Its moisturiser, Dad, you should try it." Kurt replied.

"Nah, I'm going to go and finish planning how I'm going to turn that pointy bit of the room at Dalton into a closet you can tolerate. I'm thinking of welding something together at the shop."

"Remember it has to be taken down at the end of the year, and we have to get it in through the door too." Kurt supplied.

"Okay, so welding and bolts... any other requests?"

"Yeah, make sure that a coat hanger hook fits over whatever you make so that I don't have to buy new ones please."

"Okay, diameter of bars no wider than a coat hanger hook... We're gonna have something out of the freezer for dinner tonight, I'll call when its done." Burt said, approaching the door, before he could walk through he turned to his boy, "Kurt, you can always come to me with anything, anything, you hear me? Don't hide something like this from me again. Promise?"

"Yeah, Dad." Kurt replied, edging towards his bed.

"Kurt..."

"Fine, I promise I'll talk to you in future. But I'll have nine-one-one ready to dial just in case." he compromised.

"I love you kiddo. I’ll call you for dinner."

"Love you, Dad,"