"Hey, Kurt, don't freak out, but I kind of just joined glee club," announced Carson, striding over to Kurt's locker, where his twin stood checking his reflection in a small mirror attached to the inside of the door. At Carson's words, Kurt looked at him in shock, his eyes wide.

"Glee club? You? Why?" he asked. "You hate clubs!"

"Yeah, I know, but this is different," Carson said smoothly. "I really want to do this. For you. You guys need extra members, and performing at sectionals is obviously really important to you. This is me doing my part to help you get something you want." He decided not to mention that the main reason he was joining was because he didn't trust Finn Hudson or his cronies as far as he could throw any of them. 

Kurt set his mouth in a line and gave him a searching look. "You don't even sing."

"Like that matters. I highly doubt that I'll be chosen to perform any moving ballads by myself under a soft spotlight or anything. Not with you and Trollberry in the club," replied Carson.

"Yeah, speaking of Rachel, how are you going to handle being around her? I can barely handle being around her for club meetings, and you are far less tolerant than I," said Kurt, giving his hair one final pat and smiling approvingly in his mirror before closing his locker. 

"I don't know, I'll carry holy water around with me or something. I'll deal," said Carson, throwing an arm around Kurt and leading him in the direction of their shared fifth period class (Algebra 1, the bane of Carson's existence). "Besides, think how great it will look on that Northwestern application in a couple of years."

"That's true," agreed Kurt. "But still. Are you sure you want to put yourself through this? I mean-"

"I'm sure, Kurt."

Kurt's face slowly spread into a smile. "Ok. Actually, it might be kind of fun to have you around to help me deal with Rachel."

"Right," said Carson. "Power in numbers. Two Hummels are better than one."

It took Carson approximately five minutes into his first glee club meeting to seriously question why the hell he had ever had the brilliant idea to join in the first place. Rachel was going on and on about how she had won her first dance competition as an unborn fetus, and Carson realized, as he was picturing stuffing a dirty sock into her mouth, that he was going to need something to help keep him sane if he was going to do this every day. Like a creative outlet. Or alcohol.

Then he had glanced over at Kurt, who was unconsciously stroking the tips of his own fingers while staring longingly over at Finn, and he remembered why he was doing this. To watch over his brother. Just like he'd promised their mother he would.

I'm watching you, he thought, glaring in Finn's direction. I don't trust you, and I'll be watching you VERY closely.

**************************

"So, why are we wasting a Saturday afternoon driving all the way out to Carmel High, again?" Carson asked as Kurt started their car's engine. "We could have just called this Dakota guy, you know. It's not necessary for us to actually watch a performance by Vocal Heroin or whatever."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's Vocal Adrenaline, Carson, and don't you ever pay attention to anything that happens in glee club?"

"No. I'm usually too busy picturing how awesome it would be to sneak into Rachel's room in the middle of the night and rip out her vocal chords."

"Ok, but if you did pay attention, you would know that we're doing this to both check out our competition and to ask Dakota in person so that we make a better first impression on him," said Kurt patiently. "Every little effort helps."

Carson shrugged and turned on the radio, looking for something that didn't make his ears bleed in protest, which most contemporary pop music tended to do. He flipped through all the channels on the satellite radio that had come as a free trial with their car, and found absolutely nothing. He sighed deeply.

"500 radio channels and there's nothing on," he grumbled. "Modern music is shit. Hell, most music of any era is shit. At least, the stuff they tend to overplay is."

"Can we put on the Broadway station?" asked Kurt hopefully.

Carson looked at him warily. "You're really trying to make my afternoon as painful as possible, aren't you?"

"Pleeeeeease?" Kurt pressed.

Carson sighed. "Fine. For you." He flipped the stations until he found the one that played all Broadway hits all the time. The opening notes of "Defying Gravity" filled the car. It was a song even Carson recognized right away, since it was Kurt's favorite and he sang it all the time.

"Ooooh, my song!" Kurt exclaimed, wiggling around in his seat in excitement. He started singing along, giving Idina Menzel a run for her money by singing it even more beautifully than she did. Carson smiled to himself. He may not have shared Kurt's passion for Wicked (or any musical, really), but he was always more than happy to listen to him sing. By the time the song ended, they were pulling into the driveway of Rachel's house, where Rachel stood waiting, clutching her purse to her side and turning her head in different directions, as though she were modeling for a catalog. The Sears catalog, Carson guessed, judging by that horrible "Overgrown 8 year old" outfit she had on. She stopped as soon as she spotted them, walking over and opening the door to the backseat.

"Hello, boys," she said, climbing inside and shutting the door behind her. "I trust we're all prepared to scope out our competition?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," replied Kurt.

"I just hope Dakota Stanley is willing to take us on. His schedule must be very busy with Vocal Adrenaline, but we really need him if we have any chance at all of beating them at sectionals," Rachel continued. "I don't know what we'll do if...oh, is that Barbra?" she asked excitedly. Carson had no idea what the hell she was talking about until he realized that the radio was still on and tuned to the Broadway channel. Fuuuuck.

"I love this song!" Rachel exclaimed, beginning to sing along and making those god-awful scrunched up faces she always made whenever she got really into her singing. Which was always. It took incredible willpower, but Carson managed to suppress the urge to open the car door and jump right out.

They stopped again to pick up Tina, and then one more time to pick up Mercedes (Finn, to Carson's extreme relief, was unable to accompany them on this little excursion). Mercedes practically sprinted into the backseat next to Tina.

"Hi, guys!" she said animatedly. "Kurt," she added, flashing him a wide smile. "You...you look good today."

"Why, thank you, Mercedes," Kurt answered, smiling at her in the rearview mirror. "You look quite fabulous yourself."

Mercedes practically glowed. "Thanks," she breathed. Carson held in a snort. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Mercedes had a crush on Kurt. Carson had suspected as much when he had overheard her ask Kurt the day before if he had ever kissed anyone. Kurt had answered in the negative (which, oddly, had made Carson feel a glimmer of happiness), and Mercedes had promptly started making moon eyes at him. It was pretty amusing, Carson thought. He couldn't blame her in the slightest for having a crush on him (because who in their right mind wouldn't?), but man, she was going to be SO disappointed when she realized that he didn't reciprocate. At all.

After Rachel had screeched her way through ten songs in a row, they arrived at Carmel High (not a moment too soon, as Carson was seriously about to snap) and met up with Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, who had arrived before them. 

"Are we even sure they're rehearsing today?" asked Quinn in a bored sounding voice. Carson rolled his eyes. What was it with him being surrounded by idiots who asked the stupidest questions ever? If Vocal Whatever weren't rehearsing that day, would they really be wasting their time driving all the way to the school in the first place?

"Vocal Adrenaline rehearses every day from 2:30 until midnight," replied Rachel knowledgeably. Carson looked on, amused, as Mercedes and Kurt walked with their arms looped together. Apparently, even Rachel and Tina had noticed that something was amiss. Carson watched as they exchanged a look that clearly said "What the hell?" He silently agreed.

"Would you ever wanna hang out?" Mercedes was asking. Oh man, thought Carson, reining in the urge to laugh. Did she just ask him out on a  DATE? Oh my god, she's so lucky she's not a guy, because I would hate to have to have the talk with her about her intentions with my baby brother.

"Come over," replied Kurt. "It's Liza Minnelli week on AMC." 

Yes, oh god, PLEASE DO, I could use some free entertainment, thought Carson gleefully. He supposed he should probably feel like a complete asshole for enjoying Mercedes' obliviousness, but he couldn't help it. This was just too good.

The group stopped short in front of two girls, one of whom was holding back the hair of the other, who was throwing up into a garbage can. 

"You can't leave rehearsals for any reason," the non-barfing girl was saying to the other. "That includes heat exhaustion or Crohn's disease!" 

The fuck? What kind of asshole is this Dakota guy, anyway? Carson mused. "What if you have a major case of the runs?" he asked out loud. Everybody stared at him in horror, except for Kurt, who was holding in a giggle, and the two girls in front of them, who just looked confused.

"What? It's a legitimate question," he said defensively. "If we're gonna hire this guy, these are things we should know!"

Rachel glared at him before walking over to the girls, a smile plastered on her face. "Are you guys Vocal Adrenaline? We'd like to talk to Dakota Stanley about choreographing for our glee club."

"DON'T!" the barfing girl exclaimed, looking up from her garbage can miserably. "He's a monster!"

After said "monster" informed them later that day that his fee was $8,000 per number, Carson decided he agreed with Barfing Girl's sentiment. He wasn't quite sure how a car wash, Rachel's oh-so-brilliant idea, was going to net them that much money, but he didn't really care. 

"So, Mercedes totally has the hots for you," he announced to Kurt after they had finished dropping everyone off at their houses that night. "Just in case you didn't notice her heart eyes just now when you invited her to that sing along Sound of Music thing next weekend."

Kurt looked at him quizzically. "What are you talking about? No, she doesn't."

"Um, yes. Yes, she does."

"She does not!"

"She does too."

"She does not! She's my friend," Kurt argued, not sounding quite as sure now.

"She's your friend who wants to have your babies," replied Carson. "Did you not notice the way she was clinging to you today? It was so adorable I almost threw up, just like that chick outside the school."

Kurt was silent for a minute. "Crap," he said finally.

"Exactly," said Carson, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Oh, how I don't envy you. You're going to have to let her down eventually."

".......CRAP." 

"Mercedes and Kurtsie, sitting in a tree," Carson chanted gleefully as Kurt glared at him. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

"Oh, shut up," Kurt snapped at him. "It's so not funny."

"Yeah, it kind of is," Carson argued. "And adorable. Did I mention adorable?"

"You're the worst," muttered Kurt, crossing his arms.

"It's only so cute because she's not a handsome guy trying to sweep you off your feet, otherwise I would totally be having a talk with her right now about keeping her hands to herself," said Carson, grinning now. "Or else."

"You suck!" whined Kurt.

"Naaaah, you love me," said Carson. 

"Be that as it may," replied Kurt, "you, Carson Phillip Hummel, still suck."

Carson's grin grew bigger. Even in the dark car, he could see that Kurt was smiling, too.

**************************

Carson almost didn't attend the car wash, insisting that there was no way in hell that he was going to spend the day lathering soap on rich people's stupid cars so that they could hire the same choreographer who was working with their competition.

"You're going, Carson," Kurt ordered. "You're a part of this glee club too, you know."

"I'm not going and you can't make me," Carson replied calmly, scribbling away at his notebook from his perch against the headboard of their bed.

"Really?" Kurt asked. "I beg to differ, honey. We both know that all I have to do is give you the Depressed Puppy face and you are putty in my hands. You'll do anything I ask you to."

"Not true," said Carson, refusing to look up from his notebook because he knew damn well Kurt was absolutely right.

"Oh, I think it is," said Kurt. Carson could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"Is not."

"Ok, then look at me," said Kurt. "Just glance up. Just for a second. Come on. Look, here I go. I'm making the face. Look how cute I am doing that."

"No."

"Aaaw, what's the matter, Carsey? Afraid you'll be powerless to resist me?" Kurt teased. He got down on his knees beside the bed and leaned his crossed arms on it, resting his head against them. "Come on, I don't want to wash cars all day without you there. It'll be so boring!"

Carson sighed and looked over at him. Kurt's brow was furrowed and he was biting his bottom lip, just the way he knew Carson was too weak to resist. Fuck.

"That is so unfair, you know," he said, putting his notebook back in the nightstand as Kurt's face instantly broke into a bright smile. "Using my one weakness against me. That's dirty fighting, and I really shouldn't give in to you like this."'

"Mmm-hmm. You shouldn't. But you are," hummed Kurt, grabbing Carson's hand and practically dragging him up the stairs. "Come on!"

So, that was how Carson found himself spending a perfectly good weekend afternoon surrounded by expensive cars that he was only pretending to wash. Bored was an extreme understatement to describe his mood, but he managed to amuse himself by occasionally stopping to watch Mercedes flirt with Kurt, who in turn was desperately pretending not to notice. Carson felt bad for him, but he was happy that it was at least distracting his brother's attention away from Finn. Carson didn't like Kurt's attention being on Finn.

He focused back on the car he was currently "washing" and was so caught up in thinking about his own boredom that the sound of breaking glass did not immediately register with him. Kurt's raised voice, however, did.

"You busted my window! How could you do that? You busted my window!" he was saying to an angry looking Mercedes as Carson turned to look in their direction.

"Well, you busted my heart!" Mercedes retorted, stalking off. It took Carson a second to figure out what the hell had just happened, until he noticed that the windshield of his and Kurt's car was now sporting a gigantic hole from where he assumed Mercedes had just thrown something at it.

What the fuck? he thought as he swiftly made his way over to where Kurt still stood beside the damaged car, looking shocked and confused.

"Ok, what the HELL just happened?" he demanded, surveying the ruined windshield and seething with anger. What the fuck was Mercedes' problem?

"She...she just took a rock and...went for it," Kurt answered, his eyes never leaving the shattered glass. 

"WHY?" asked Carson, silently vowing to murder Mercedes the next time he saw her.

"Well, um.." Kurt said, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "She asked me if we could make it official that we're dating."

"Oh my GOD, and what did you say?"

"I may have told her that I'm in love with Rachel."

Carson froze in horror. "You told her WHAT?"

"Well, I meant FINN, and Rachel was standing there too, and Mercedes just assumed. I...I suddenly didn't want to correct her," Kurt babbled, his voice becoming smaller and smaller. "Because.."

"I know," Carson said, squeezing Kurt's hand reassuringly. "I know why you did it. But....Rachel? Really? RACHEL?"

"Trust me, I can't believe I said it, either," Kurt mumbled. "What are we going to do about the car? A new windshield is going to be expensive as hell!"

"Oh, that girl is going to pay for the damage SHE caused," Carson said, his jaw set. "There's no fucking way she's not. I will make her life a living hell if she doesn't. She seems to not have realized that this is MY car, too." He shook his head in disgust at the situation and opened the car door, gingerly picking up pieces of glass. "We should probably get out of here and see about having Dad fix this if he's not busy," he said. "You sit in the back, ok? There's no glass back there."

Kurt didn't say anything, just silently slid into the backseat and looked glumly out the window. Carson brushed away the last of the glass fragments from the driver's seat, told Rachel (as briefly as possible) where they were going, and got behind the wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of a single tear rolling down Kurt's cheek.

Yeah, he was so going to kill Mercedes.

****************************

Ok, maybe he wasn't going to actually kill her, but he sure did his best to be as cold to her as possible over the next few days. He stuck by Kurt's side even more than usual, and any time it looked as though Mercedes was going to come up and try to say something, he made sure to give her his iciest glare so that she was too uncomfortable to do it. He was so caught up in being pissed at her, he didn't even have the energy to gloat and say "I knew it!" when Dakota Stanley turned out to be a world class asshole whom they fired after all of five minutes.

At least she had apologized to both of them and paid for the damage. Or rather, her father had paid. So there was that. Still, though. She was officially on Carson's shit list. Especially after what happened several days after the car wash incident, when he came home much later than usual (it had been a rough afternoon in the journalism classroom trying to make some last minute changes to that week's Muckraker, and then, of course he had gone to the assisted living home). He entered the house, tired as hell, and found Kurt slumped on the couch in the living room, flipping through the channels on the TV and looking extremely depressed. Carson set his bag aside and flopped down next to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked him.

"Nothing's wrong," Kurt replied. 

"Yes, there is," Carson said. "I can tell. Come on, what's got my Kurtsie so upset?"

Kurt sighed. "It's Mercedes."

Carson's eyes narrowed. "Oh my god, what the hell did she do THIS time? I will bury that girl alive, I swear."

"No, it's not anything she did, it's just....it's just something she said, but I don't want to talk about it," said Kurt. 

Carson looked closer at Kurt's face. His cheeks were streaked with dried tears that Carson hadn't noticed at first, and his eyes were shining. 

"Have you been crying?" he asked.

"No," Kurt lied.

"Yes, you have. Come on, Kurt, what the hell did that girl say to you?" Carson asked, taking Kurt's hand and gently running his thumb over the soft skin.

"She said..." Kurt began, hesitating as he leaned his head against the back of the couch and looked intently at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "She apologized for the car again, and I told her that I lied..you know..about liking Rachel, and I actually....I came out to her."

"Oh, Kurt," said Carson sympathetically, patting his shoulder with the hand that wasn't caressing Kurt's thumb. "What did she say when you told her?"

"She said that I needed to just tell everybody, especially the other glee kids," Kurt said quietly, a fresh tear streaming down his face. "That's what's bothering me. I don't want to do that. I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, and she thinks I should just walk up to people and be like "Hi, I'm gay!" he continued miserably.

"What the hell does she know?" Carson asked, more pissed at Mercedes than ever. "Is SHE the one who has to do that? She should just shut the fuck up about things she doesn't understand."

"I don't know...I just feel like I'm some kind of coward because I don't have the confidence to come out yet or something," said Kurt, resting his head on Carson's shoulder as Carson put his arm around him.

"Hey, none of that," Carson said softly, bringing his hand up to stroke through Kurt's hair. "Listen to me. Just because you choose not to come out yet to everybody, that doesn't mean you're not brave, or that you don't have confidence. You're brave enough to be yourself without trying to conform to everybody else, aren't you?"

"I guess," Kurt murmured.

"There's no need to rush yourself into anything," Carson continued, feeling Kurt take a shuddering breath against him. "This is something that you have to do on your own time. Not anyone else's. Yours."

Kurt nodded, dropping his head lower on Carson's shoulder and sighing. "I'm tired."

Carson let out a small laugh. "Me too. Come on, let's go downstairs for the night." He got up off the couch and held out his hands to Kurt, pulling him up as well.

"Too exhausted," Kurt mumbled, wrapping his arms around Carson's neck from behind. "Carry me?"

"As you wish," replied Carson, reaching for Kurt's legs and wrapping them around his waist so that he was carrying him on his back, piggyback style. It was something he'd been doing since they were kids, and Kurt had always loved it. Kurt let out a happy sigh and pressed a kiss to Carson's hair. "You're awesome," he said.

"Naaah, you are," said Carson, starting for the stairs.

******************************

"I'm trying out for the football team today," Kurt announced one morning before school. Their dad had already left for work. Carson, for once, had nothing to go into school early for and was seated at the kitchen table making his way through a giant bowl of Lucky Charms, which he practically choked on when he heard Kurt's words.

"I'm sorry, is it April 1st already and I missed the memo?" he asked when he had caught his breath. "Because this is a joke, right? You HATE football. You hate any kind of sport!"

"I know, but I kind of have no choice," Kurt insisted, sitting across from Carson at the table. "Dad came home early the other day and caught me practicing "Single Ladies" with Tina and Brittany, and one thing led to another, and now he thinks that I'm the new kicker for the Titans," he said in a rush.

Carson looked at him, confused. "Wait, how did things go from "Single Ladies" to football?"

"That doesn't matter!" Kurt exclaimed, frustrated. "The point is, he thinks I'm on the team, and I'm not, obviously, but I have to be, because he wants to see my first game!"

"Why don't you just tell him the truth?" asked Carson sensibly, getting up and rinsing his bowl out in the sink.

"I just....I just can't," said Kurt, something clearly weighing on his mind. "So I asked Finn yesterday if he could get me a tryout, and he did. It's today after school. Finn and I are going to practice my kicking technique at lunch."

Carson's eyes narrowed as he stared at Kurt. "This whole crazy idea isn't just because of Finn, is it?" he asked him. "Because, in addition to the fact that you hate football, that team is full of assholes who have tormented you and made your life hell for as long as you've been going to McKinley. And yet you're actually willing to place yourself among them on a daily basis?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, Carson, it's not because of Finn, it's just...it's just something that I need to do."

"Right, I get that, but why?" Carson pressed. "You know you can tell me anything." 

Kurt was quiet for a minute. "I feel like maybe, if I do this, then I'll finally have done something that Dad will be really proud of me for," he said at last.

"What?" Carson asked, surprised. "What are you talking about? He's already proud of you. He's proud of both of us. He says so all the time."

"Yeah, but this is something we can bond over. Something we can have in common," said Kurt.

Carson gave him a hard look. "But, do YOU want to do this? That's the most important thing."

"Yeah, I do."

"Ok," said Carson. "If this is really what you want to do, you should go for it."

"Will you come to my tryout?" Kurt asked. "I know you have to work on the paper today, but I'll help you with it later if you come watch me."

"That depends, are you going to pout and bite your lip if I say no?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then I'll go," said Carson. "I would have gone anyway. You know that," he said, bopping Kurt playfully on the arm.

"Watch it, this is a new shirt," said Kurt, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. "Now come on, or we'll be late for homeroom."

**************************

"Gentlemen, we have found ourselves a kicker!" Carson heard Coach Tanaka yelling from the field later that afternoon. Damn straight they had found a new kicker. Carson didn't really even know the first thing about football, but he did know that he had just witnessed Kurt demonstrating an extremely impressive kicking skill that rivaled anyone's he had ever seen.

He also knew a couple of other things. He knew that watching Kurt do his "Single Ladies" dance before the actual kicking made his stomach do weird things, and he knew that seeing him talk to Finn on the field made him feel a surge of....something. Not jealousy, exactly. Maybe more like protectiveness? Like Carson was the mother bear and Kurt was his cub. Yeah. Yeah, that was it.

It wasn't jealousy. Not at all. It wasn't jealousy when he felt it as he watched Kurt and Finn practice that "Single Ladies" dance in the choir room at lunch, either.

Nope.

Whatever it was, Carson didn't have time to think about it anymore, because he was too busy running down from the bleachers to go hug Kurt. He was so damn proud of him right now.

Not nearly as proud as he was the following Friday night, though, as he and his dad sat in those very same bleachers watching Kurt's first game unfold. Football may as well have been a foreign language to Carson, because all he could make out was that there was a lot of movement and shoving and running. None of which was at all appealing. He didn't know Kurt stood it. Kurt himself spotted them sitting up there and Carson could see the smile radiate on his face even from all the way across that field.

"I told you! I told you!" he was shouting excitedly, jumping up and down and waving at them. Burt gave him a wave back, while Carson grinned from ear to ear and waved both arms. Kurt smiled back and then began kicking the air animatedly.

Yep, that's my Kurtsie, alright, thought Carson adoringly.

The game went on and on, none of it really interesting Carson very much, even though he tried to pay attention. The only thing he really understood was when Finn called a time out, followed by half the team beginning to dance Kurt's "Single Ladies" dance.

"I can't believe they let him teach them that dance," Carson said to his father, watching in shock as the performance on the field went on. 

"Yeah, me either," replied Burt, looking confused as to what exactly he was watching. 

Carson was about to reply, but was distracted by the sight of Kurt walking back onto the field, deep in concentration. He must have been about to kick, Carson assumed. He was right. Kurt snapped his fingers, and "Single Ladies" filled the air once again as Kurt stepped right into the dance. He approached the ball in front of him and considered it for a second before rearing his foot back and giving it a good, hard kick, sending it sailing out of sight.

Apparently, this was a very good thing, because the crowd went nuts with cheers, Burt included. Kurt was lifted into the air by his teammates, looking prouder than Carson had ever seen him. They better not drop him, Carson thought as he cheered along with the crowd.

"You were so great tonight," he said later that night, sitting on the edge of their bed as he watched Kurt perform his nightly facial routine.

"Thanks," Kurt said happily. "I was so nervous, though. I still can't believe I did that!"

"Well, believe it, because you did," said Carson, smiling at him through the mirror. "That was, by far, the most impressive kick I have ever seen."

Kurt snorted. "Exactly how many have you seen?"

"Shut up and take the compliment," retorted Carson, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Kurt was about to say something, but they were interrupted by the sound of Burt's footsteps coming down the stairs. He entered the room slowly, looking like he didn't quite know what to say. Carson looked over at Kurt, who was looking at their dad through the mirror.

"Nighttime skin care is a big part of my post-game ritual," Kurt said quietly.

"I don't know what to say about that," their father replied, "but, uh...I was really proud of you tonight, Kurt. I wish your mom would have been there. I mean...alive."

Carson looked down at his hands at the mention of their mother. She would certainly have been so proud of Kurt, he knew.

"Thanks," Kurt said. Burt nodded and turned to go back up the stairs, but stopped in his tracks as Kurt called out, "Dad?"

Burt turned around. Kurt got up from his seat in front of the mirror and turned to face him. "I have something I want to say."

Carson looked between them and wondered if he should leave the room. It seemed like this was going to be a serious father-son bonding moment, and he didn't want to interrupt. As though Kurt read his mind (which he very well might have- twin telepathy and all), he caught Carson's eye and gave him a look that clearly said "No, stay. I need you here with me."

 So he stayed.

"I'm glad that you're proud of me," Kurt continued, turning his attention back to their father. "But I don't want to lie anymore. Being a part of the glee club and football has really showed me that I can be anything. And what I am is..."

Carson suddenly realized exactly what Kurt was going to say and looked at him nervously, attempting to send him all the good vibes he was capable of sending, if such a thing were even possible.

"I'm gay," Kurt finished, letting out a big breath. Carson looked from him to their father in silence, waiting for their dad to say something. Anything. 

"I know," Burt replied after a minute. 

"...Really?" asked Kurt.

"I've known since you were three," Burt continued. "All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels."

Carson suppressed a laugh at the memory of a much younger Kurt happily spending hours playing dressup in their mother's old shoes. There was a faded photograph in one of the family albums in the living room to commemorate it. Even back then, Kurt had been the most adorable thing.

"I guess I'm not totally in love with the idea, but if that's who you are, there's nothing I can do about it. And I love you just as much," Burt said, clapping one hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Okay?"

Kurt's only answer was to fold their father into a huge hug. Carson smiled at the pair of them, happy that Kurt had at last found the confidence to come out to someone besides Mercedes. 

"Thanks for telling me, Kurt," Burt said, breaking from the hug and preparing to go back upstairs. He turned back around before he started up them and looked at Kurt again. "You're sure, right?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm sure," Kurt replied, looking back into his mirror. 

"Just checking," said Burt. "Good nght, boys."

"Good night, Dad," Kurt and Carson replied at the same time, as Burt headed back up the stairs.

They didn't speak after their dad left. They didn't need to. They both knew what the other was thinking. Kurt was silently thanking Carson for staying by for moral support, and Carson was thinking how proud he was of his brother's bravery. 

But just to be safe, he made sure to hug Kurt close to him as they drifted off to sleep. He hoped maybe all his pride would seep through his touch and wash over Kurt.

*****************************

Carson removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Honestly, he appreciated the fact that Jacob Ben Israel was eager to help with the Muckraker, even if he was weird as hell and reminded Carson of a creepy pervert who lured people into the back of his windowless van.

However, he was not so desperate for help that he would resort to accepting stories about Rachel Berry starring in the school's production of Cabaret. 

"Jacob, let me level with you," he said with as much patience as he could muster, considering that he had been at work on this issue of the paper all day, even skipping all his classes to stay in the journalism classroom. Practically nobody but Kurt would look for him there, he knew, because most people avoided that classroom like the plague. "Nobody except Rachel Berry is going to be interested in an article about Rachel Berry. And I know not a lot of students read this paper anyway, but still...it goes against everything I believe in and stand for to publish articles about Rachel Berry."

"Even if we add in something about her bra?" asked Jacob.

Carson gave him a disgusted face. "Especially not then! Eeew, god, why the fuck did you just mention Rachel's underwear to me? Are you trying to make me sick?"

"Maybe nobody reads the paper because you don't publish enough articles about underwear," suggested Jacob.

Carson glared at him for a long minute. "Jacob....get out of my classroom." Jacob obeyed, thankfully, or else Carson was sure he would have started throwing things.

Honestly, he thought. I don't know why I even bother.

He launched back into his work assembling the layout of the next issue, not noticing or caring how much time had gone by until there was a sharp knock at the door. He looked up to find none other than Finn Hudson standing there, looking through the window in the door and looking as befuddled and confused as he always did.

"What is it, Finn?" he called out, gesturing for the other boy to enter the room. Finn opened the door and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Um, the school nurse sent me to get you, dude," he said. "There's something wrong with Kurt, and I guess they couldn't get a hold of your dad, so..."

"WHAT? Kurt? What's wrong with him? Is he ok?" Carson asked quickly, getting up and reaching for his bag. "Is he hurt?"

"What..no, I think he's just sick," replied Finn. "They probably want you to take him home or whatever."

Carson didn't reply, just closed the lights of the classroom and made his way as fast as possible to the nurse's office. He arrived, out of breath, to find Kurt stretched out on a cot, looking miserable and unkempt, his hair askew and his shirt half unbuttoned. The faint scent of vomit filled the air.

"Kurt? What happened?" he asked, rushing over to his brother and feeling his forehead. "You don't feel feverish or anything."

"That's because he's not sick, he's drunk," the school nurse replied from behind him in a bored voice. "He threw up all over Miss Pillsbury, who just barely managed to escort him over here before running screaming from the building."

"Drunk?" Carson asked incredulously. "How is that possible? He doesn't even drink."

"Carseeeeey!" exclaimed Kurt, sitting up and looking at him with squinted eyed, as though he had just realized that he was there. "I do...do...I do too drink. I dunno what that stuff was that April gave me, but it was deli...delic...felicious...it was good. Good stuff. Uuuugh, but now I don't feel well," he added, playing absentmindedly with one of the buttons of his shirt. "Feel siiiiick."

Of course. April Rhodes. The former McKinley student Mr. Schuester had stupidly brought in to replace Rachel after her hissy fit. That woman was always carrying alcohol around. She must have given quite a bit to Kurt, judging by the state of his brother at the moment. "Yep, you're drunk," said Carson, shaking his head. 

"You're hot," Kurt replied under his breath, flopping back onto his cot.

What? Carson looked at him, horrified. He could feel his cheeks turning red and hoped that the nurse hadn't heard Kurt. Apparently, she hadn't.

"I tried to get in touch with your father, but there was no answer. Do you think you could make sure your brother gets home?" she asked. "Preferably soon, before the vomit smell permeates the entire office?"

"It's an infirmary, I would think vomit smell is something you're used to," Carson said. Her only answer was to stare blankly at him.

"Yeah, yeah, ok." He gently eased Kurt into a sitting position and looked him in the eye. "Kurt...Kurt, look at me..KURT...ok..can you walk?"

A frown passed over Kurt's delicate features. "O'course I can walk, Carfshon, I'm not..not a baby."

Jesus, how much did he drink? Carson wondered as he helped Kurt stand up, keeping one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulder. He led him out of the nurse's office and out to the parking lot, where he carefully loaded him into the backseat and buckled him in.

"Try not to barf on the seats, ok Kurtsie?" he said lightly, before getting behind the wheel and starting for home. Kurt hummed under his breath the entire way, a song Carson couldn't place at first, but which he eventually realized was the theme song to Full House.

At long last, he arrived home, carefully extracting Kurt from the backseat. Kurt had essentially turned into dead weight over the course of the drive, and Carson had a somewhat difficult time transporting him, especially since Kurt stumbled more often than he walked. By some miracle, he managed to get Kurt down to their bedroom, where he deposited him carefully onto the bed. Kurt instantly curled into a ball and closed his eyes.

"Kurt, come on, we have to get you cleaned up," said Carson, trying to rouse him.

"No. Wanna sleep."

"But-"

"NO."

Carson sighed. He figured there was no use in trying to clean him up right now when he was being like this. Not until he had sobered up a bit and wasn't in danger of being sick anymore. He could always wash their bedding later. Kurt would be fine until then.

"Caaarsooon," Kurt groaned as Carson started to take off his shoes for him so that he'd at least be somewhat comfortable. "Come lay with meeeee." He made what Carson assumed was supposed to be grabby hands, but which turned out to be more of a pathetic flailing of his arms. "Don't wanna sleep by myself!"

"Ok, ok," Carson said soothingly, climbing onto the bed beside him. Kurt snuggled up next to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. The smell of dried vomit invaded Carson's nostrils, but he didn't really mind. 

"You feel good," Kurt murmured through his half-asleep haze. "You're soft. Why are you so soft?"

Carson smiled at him. "I...thanks?"

"Looove you," Kurt whispered, wrinkling his nose adorably. Somehow, Kurt managed to be cute as a button even when drunk off his ass. 

"Go to sleep, Kurtsie. Sleep it off," Carson said softly, stroking his fingers through Kurt's hair. "And I love you, too."

Kurt didn't answer him. His eyes had closed and he was already asleep.