July 2011

Kurt paced around the kitchen, circling the island like a hawk as he kept biting his lip and glancing at the clock. He wrung his hands constantly, squeezing and pulling on them until he knew that he would have to moisturize them twice to get them back to normal later on that night. But if it weren’t his hands he was picking at, it was his dark grey, soft cotton sweater that he enjoyed wearing around the house, and he just couldn’t condone wearing out the threads of the hem even when he was nervous and, dare he say it, scared.

Another glance at the clock told Kurt that his Dad would be home soon after finishing off another shift at the garage. He would open the door and clomp inside with his dirty work boots, calling out into the house to see if anyone was home as he slid off the old, cracked leather shoes to set them to the side of the doorway on the mat.He would then set his keys on the small mail table in the hall, taking off his hat to rub his bald scalp before putting it back on as he strode to the kitchen for a drink just like every day. 

But today was going to be different…. A lot different.

Today, Kurt was going to be waiting for him, filled with anxiety and embarrassment as he attempted to ask his Dad for advice….

Personal advice.

Like relationship advice.

For him and his boyfriend of four months, Blaine Anderson.

…Oh, joy.

Kurt jumped at the sound of his Dad opening the front door, his keys jangling against the brass knob. He could feel his stomach dropping, seeping into his house shoes.

“Anybody home?” He heard his Dad call into the house, followed by two heavy thuds where his shoes found themselves on the mat.

“In here, Dad.” Kurt called back, just barely managing to keep the quaver out of his voice. No reason to scare his Dad into thinking there’s something worse going on with his son….besides the minor freak-out he was already having.

Burt lumbered into view as he walked into the kitchen, his old, red plaid shirt still carrying traces of grease and smelling of motor oil, scents that Kurt had always associated with his father. He was about to reach for the fridge door, going for a Kurt-approved drink to quench his thirst after working in a baking, mildly air-conditioned garage, when he finally looked at Kurt and stopped in his tracks.

Looking hard at Kurt’s face, Burt saw plenty that told him that something was up with his son. Kurt’s pale face seemed even paler except for a fair amount of pink on his cheeks, his normally smooth forehead wrinkled slightly as stray strands of auburn hair fell from his usually tightly controlled style. His son had his arms wrapped round his torso, one arm crossed over his stomach while the other rested on top of it, his hand tucked near his chin as it nervously played with his sweater’s collar. But the one truly revealing thing that Burt saw that had his own stomach turning were his son’s eyes, portals of blues and grays and greens that could never lie to him, a open window to his son’s soul….just like his mother’s.

Burt began to get very nervous when he looked into those familiar eyes. The only time he had ever seen them so anxious and furtive was when he was trying to shake off that Karofsky kid’s threats after Finn had blurted them out during dancing practice for his wedding. He had refused to really look at his Dad that day, just standing there mentally flailing as he attempted to play off the seriousness of the situation he was in, but Burt had seen his eyes. They had looked terrified then.

But Kurt’s eyes didn’t have that same stark fear emanating from them, so Burt wasn’t going to let himself get too worked up, but they were still nervous enough to concern his father.

“You alright, kiddo?” Burt asked carefully, drawing his hand back from the fridge. It seemed to take a moment for Kurt to understand the question and try to formulate an answer, but Burt was a patient man.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Dad. I just….need to talk to you about something.” Kurt replied softly before looking his Dad in the eye, straightening his spine and gracefully crossing his arms as he did so.

“Sure thing, Kurt. What’s it about? Should I be worried?” Burt asked, sitting on one of the stools that flanked the island, leaning his arms on the edge of the counter.

“Depends.”

Okay, now that didn’t help Burt keep calm at all.

After dealing with all that had happened in Kurt’s junior year of high school, he had hoped that by being on summer break for a few months that Kurt would be given a break as well. He was free to hang out with all his friends and boyfriend whenever he wanted, without the threat of constantly being on guard from little jerks in letterman jackets that took such pleasure in terrorizing his kid with their prejudice.

In fact, over the last few months, Kurt had been much happier than he ever remembered him being, at least before his Mom died when he was just a child. He had been bouncing around the house every day, either arguing with Finn about eating the last of the whole wheat bread without telling him, having the girls over for their afternoon socials, or even cuddling with Blaine on the couch as they watched Moulin Rouge for the thirtieth time, sitting far too close together in Burt’s opinion, as they whispered the dialogue or sang the songs together.

But for Kurt to look so uncertain and upset, Burt could only imagine that something bad had happened. Did somebody try to make trouble for Kurt when he and the girls had gone to the mall the other day? Had he gotten one of those blasted harassment phone calls again, the ones that Kurt always tried to intercept before Burt answered? Or maybe it was something else, he had no idea.

“What’s wrong, Kurt? Is somebody messing with you again? That Karofsky kid or Adams?” Burt fired off, his anger rising at the thought that maybe nothing had changed for his son, that maybe Kurt had just gotten better at hiding things he shouldn’t need to. But Kurt interrupted his thoughts before he got too ahead of himself.

“What? No! Dad, no! No one’s coming after me. It’s not that at all.” Kurt hurried to reply, rushing forward a few feet to his Dad’s side in hopes of keeping him calm and as unstressed as possible, his small pale hands gently touching his father’s strong right arm.

“Then what is it, Kurt? If no one’s hurting you or threatening you, then why are you so jumpy?” Burt asked, breathing deeply and slowly to keep Kurt from worrying about his health. Kurt sighed, his cheeks flushing again, bright pink against the rest of his snow pale skin as he started to pick at a stray sweater thread.

“It’s about Blaine.” Kurt murmured before glaring at his father. “But before you start jumping to conclusions, Blaine hasn’t done anything to me. I don’t want to talk to you about something that Blaine supposedly did, but about something else….” Kurt trailed off again before taking a deep breath.

“I’m thinking about telling Blaine about….my PAIS.”

…Okay, Burt could not have heard that right. Kurt was standing there, looking at him both expectantly and warily, and Burt had no idea how to answer him. He was so not ready for this.

“….Why?” Burt carefully questioned, still a bit blindsided by Kurt’s statement. He already had an answer as to why his son would want to tell his boyfriend about his condition, but he really hoped that he was wrong. There was no way that Kurt was ready to have sex right now. He was only 17! His baby boy was way too young to be getting intimate with anybody, much less Blaine! He was supposed to wait till he was 30!

Kurt’s blush still hadn’t let up, only intensifying as he was forced to answer his Dad. “Dad, we’re not having sex. I’m not ready for that step yet, and won’t be for a while. It’s just… Dad, I take my relationship with Blaine very seriously, and so does he. We’ve shared so much together, and I know that I can trust him with anything….including my PAIS.”

Kurt’s voice had dropped. “The thing is… I hate lying to him about this. He already knows that something’s off with me.”

Burt’s eyes darted to Kurt’s face. “How? When did this happen?”

Kurt sighed. “He caught me after one of my shots. It happened while I was at Dalton. Because of an assignment I was working on the night before, I overslept one day and didn’t have time to take my hormones before breakfast like I normally do. I hurried back to my room after the Warblers meeting to take it and get a short nap before dinner, but what I didn’t know was that Blaine had followed me back to the dorms. He told me later that he had been worried about me, that I had looked tired and worn out all day, which I was, and he had wanted to check up on me. I had just taken my shot when he knocked on my door, startling me into scratching myself with the syringe needle.”

“I tried to hide the syringe and my hormones, but he saw the bloody needle and other used syringes in my trash can and the scratch on my hand. He started panicking and worrying himself into a fit, scared that I was doing drugs or something. While he was bandaging me up, I explained that I had to take the shots for my health and that the scratch was an accident. He became very quiet and I just knew he was thinking I had some kind of debilitating illness, so I had to tell him that it was something I was born with, that it wasn’t going to hurt me or kill me. He calmed down after that and asked what I had.” Kurt explained, his eyes focused on the beige tile of the kitchen floor. His hand never left his father’s arm, just lightly gripping the rolled-up sleeve as Burt listened patiently.

“And what did you tell him?” Burt asked quietly, bringing his own large, broad hand up to cover his son’s. Kurt looked up at him, his porcelain face distant with memory.

“Dad…I couldn’t tell him then. I just couldn’t. It was before we got together, before there was an actual chance of us being together. I couldn’t just drop that bombshell on him. I ended up saying that I wasn’t comfortable talking about it yet, and he understood. He promised not to push and said that whenever I wanted to talk, that he would be there.” Kurt looked his father in the eyes. “And he kept his promise, Dad. Not once since then has he tried to pry it out of me. He just accepted it.”

Kurt sighed and primly sat down on the stool next to Burt’s. “For a while I forgot about it, what with Regionals and my transfer back to McKinley, but after we told each other ‘I love you’ after Nationals, I knew that I couldn’t keep lying to him. Dad, I don’t want to keep any secrets from Blaine. He means so much to me, and every day knowing that I’m keeping such a huge part of myself completely secret from him seems more and more unfair. I know that there are things he hasn’t told me about his own past, and I know there are reasons why, but….I feel like I need to tell him. I need to tell him before we get any more serious.”

Burt coughed uncomfortably with the brutal honesty Kurt was displaying, even with most of the blood in his body taking residence in his face. “And how serious are you already?”

Kurt glared slightly at Burt, but answered him anyway. “We’ve only gone as far as making out, Dad. No articles of clothing have been removed as of late, so no need to bust out the shotgun. And that’s another thing! I know that talking about all of this with me is uncomfortable for you, but you were the one that wanted me to be totally honest about the topic.” Kurt shot back, defiant with just a hint of hurt in his voice.

Burt rallied to reassure his son. “Now Kurt, don’t start that again. I am not uncomfortable with this the way you’re thinking. It has nothing to do with you being gay at all. You just have to understand that I’m your father, the man that helped make you and raised you. You will always be that tiny blue bundle your Mom and I brought home from the hospital, the little boy that talked me into having tea parties with you on the front lawn, and the adorable tike that used to cuddle with your Power Rangers when you went to sleep until you were six. And I’m sorry if you wanting to talk about possibly having sex with your boyfriend at any point in the future kinda scares me since it’s proof that you’re growing up too fast on me.”

Burt turned in his seat to face his son, resting his wide palms on Kurt’s shoulders, making sure to keep eye contact and a calm voice. “Kurt, I know that you’re growing up and becoming a man. I know that you’re getting closer and closer to that age when you’ll have to make all the decisions in your life on your own. But you’re still a kid to me, at least for a little while longer, and this is a big decision in and of itself. I remember when we had to tell Carole and Finn about your PAIS, and I remember how terrified you were that they were going to reject you. I understand how vulnerable and helpless you felt, Kurt. All I’m saying is, deciding to tell Blaine about this is a sign, to me at least, that you want a more mature relationship with him. You want to share more and more of yourself with him, and that’s a huge step. I just want you to be sure of what you’re getting yourself into.”

Kurt opened his mouth to interject, but Burt cut him off. “Now, Kurt, you know I have nothing against Blaine. So far, he’s been treating you right, respecting you, and making you happy, and that’s all I ever wanted from your first boyfriend. But the very last thing I want is for you to get hurt if, for whatever reason, Blaine doesn’t accept you or doesn’t understand what you’re telling him. I just want you to be careful, okay?”

Kurt nodded solemnly. In the back of his mind, those same worries had been circling like carrion birds ever since he started considering revealing the truth to Blaine. He knew in his heart that Blaine would never hurt him, at the very least unintentionally, but his cynical mind thought differently. His mind understood the hypocrisy and ignorance that he faced every day at the hands of Lima’s citizens. He knew that there were so many people out there that would call him a freak of nature or a monster if he were to try to tell them about his condition. But for Kurt to even try to imagine Blaine doing that to him was impossible, he just couldn’t picture it. He could feel the love Blaine had for him, he could feel it all the time when they were together and even when they were apart, so he shouldn’t have been so scared of how Blaine might react.

But still the worries and anxiety existed. Kurt knew that he was taking a huge risk by telling Blaine. He realized that with Blaine knowing about his PAIS that whatever expectations Blaine had about their relationship would have to change, especially in the intimacy department. Kurt’s situation was too different from what Blaine might have wanted for his first serious relationship. I mean, he had girl parts for crying out loud! Kurt was certain that when Blaine figured out that he was gay, he definitely wasn’t expecting his first boyfriend to have a vagina! It was just too out there to consider, too bizarre to be predicted.

But if Kurt was anything, he was practical and pragmatic in the end. Kurt realized that if he was willing to tell Blaine, then he was ready for a greater commitment between them, a more intimate bond built on trust and acceptance. And if Blaine couldn’t handle the truth, then Blaine wasn’t ready to continue their relationship and they would be over.

It was only with a sinking, pain-filled heart that Kurt came to this conclusion. If Blaine couldn’t handle this, then they were done.

Looking up at his father, Kurt nodded. His shoulders felt heavier than they had earlier, but his mind was clearer than ever. “I understand, Dad. So, you don’t have a problem with me telling him?”

Burt sighed, taking off his hat to rub his bald head. “No, I don’t. It’s ultimately your decision whether I agree with it or not, but no, I won’t fight you if you want to tell him. I like Blaine, Kurt. He’s a good guy for you, makes you happy and looks at you like you’re the sun and the moon. More than anything, I want this all to work out for you. The only advice I’ll give you is don’t just blurt it out. I think that might give the poor kid a panic attack and faint…but with how short he is, he won’t have far to fall.”

And with that quip, the weighty tension lifted from the room, chased away by Kurt’s indignant protests about his boyfriend’s height and his father’s laughter. But even with the sharp glare Kurt directed at Burt’s chuckling face, the warm light in his glasz eyes only brightened.

It was in these small moments that Kurt was immensely grateful for his father.
On the outside, Burt seemed like the kind of man that could have been cloned from the general populace of small-town, small-minded America, the generation of people that preferred to stay tucked away in the back roads of the Bible Belt, far away from the progressive, high-life cities of LA and New York.

Dressed in old, worn Levis and oil-splattered plaid, from his trucker hat-donned head down to his work boot-bound feet, Burt Hummel was the kind of man people assumed would hate his gay son, treating him like the rest of the ignorant masses of Lima. An outsider would assume that he would be embarrassed by his flamboyantly dressed son, his high feminine voice, and his preference to loving men rather than settling down with a nice, local girl and raising a bushel of kids. One could assume a lot of Burt Hummel by his appearance.

But those assumptions couldn’t be farther from the truth. Burt was indeed a burly man, butch and macho like people thought, but his heart and mind were far more open than anyone could believe. He had known when Kurt was just a child that his son was different, far different than he had ever anticipated. Kurt never acted like the other boys his age, outstandingly cautious with his clothes and created fantasy weddings with his Power Rangers instead of playing pee-wee football or superheroes. Kurt had adored singing along to Disney films and the old musical records that his late wife would play throughout the house while Burt was off to work instead of wanting to play with mini-monster trucks and watching to football games. Kurt abhorred dirt and roughhousing in favor of fashion, Broadway, and art.

By all accounts, Burt and his son were polar opposites, with nary a subject that could connect them besides cars and genetics.

But Burt loved his son anyway. He looked at the talented young man with such pride in his eyes that it would humble any other man. Kurt may not have been the son Burt had pictured the day he was born, physically or personality-wise, but he was still his son and was loved just as much if not more for it.