Kurt Hummel Exposed!

Hollywood's new golden boy is hiding a shocking secret. An extensive week long investigation has uncovered not one, but two secret love children in his past. The first, a girl, was born towards the end of his sophomore year of high school, to a girl we'll call "Q", who was a fellow cheerleader that Hummel dated for a few weeks to hide the fact that he was gay. "Q" was heartlessly thrown out of her house by her two gay dads when they discovered the pregnancy and received no support at all from dead-beat dad Hummel. "Q" triumphed over this adversity and moved to L.A. after graduation, where she got a contract as a sessions back-up singer. The second offspring is even more shocking. In his senior year of high school, Hummel carried on an illicit affair with a teacher, who we'll refer to as "S", a much beloved educator who was evidently also a local TV news celebrity and OCD sufferer. After preying on her desperate need for affection and loving nature, Hummel dumped her, but not before planting a bun in her oven. She decided to keep the baby, dashing her hopes of moving to New York and staring on Broadway. Instead she remained in Lima, Ohio and continued to coach the high school football team. What else is Kurt Hummel hiding? — TheirDirtyLaundryUncovered blog, September 3rd, 2018.

=^..^=

Kurt stopped his car at a red light and looked over at the near-stranger occupying the passenger seat. A stranger who was going to be living in his house. Blaine caught him looking and flashed a confident smile. Kurt grumbled to himself and redirected his focus back to the road. Didn't this situation make Blaine uncomfortable at all? It didn't seem like it did. He just sat there with his stupid (beautiful) smile, slicked down Cary Grant style hair, and ridiculous eyelashes (seriously, how did the guy even lift his eyelids?) flickering over eyes the color of honey.

Being alone with another man, at least one that wasn't a close friend or family member, wasn't something that Kurt was very comfortable with. He had spent the first two years of high school the subject of general bullying by the brainless cattle that played for the various sports teams, at the mercy of their petty (and frankly unimaginative) torments. He had thought that there could be nothing worse, but unfortunately he had been proven wrong. Towards the beginning of his junior year he had become the target of a specific brand of hate and violence that made him long for the halcyon days of slushies and dumpster drops. He had hated being a victim, but hadn't seen a way out, so he had just tried to endure. He had drifted away from his friends, unsure if they even noticed the harassment, sure that they didn't really care. He had tried to keep being his fabulous self on the outside, but his social interactions became less and less.

It wasn't until Junior Prom that things had started to get better. He hadn't had a date, of course, but the glee club was performing at the dance, so he had been forced to attend. Towards the middle of the evening his classmates had voted him prom queen in a cruel joke and he had left the gym in tears and begun walking home alone. Part way home he had felt a presence behind him and had been afraid that the bullies might be coming after him, but when he turned he had found the entire glee club, still dressed in their prom finery, following to ensure his safety. After that, things got better. He let his guard down a little and became closer friends with most of the kids in the club. He and Rachel had even bonded during the next summer and decided that they were both going to audition for NYADA the following year. The harassment at school didn't stop, but having friends standing with him made it easier to endure.

Despite the improvements, Kurt had still held himself a part from those around him. Literally and figuratively. He hugged the edges of rooms and kept his arms wrapped around himself or around his messenger bag strap, anything to prevent his hands from accidently reaching out and touching someone inadvertently.

When he went off to New York after graduation he took with him the same mentality he'd had in high school: Don't get too close and they can't hurt you as much. Don't expose the soft underbelly. Being with like-minded people helped him soften a bit as he realized he didn't have to keep people at arms-length; Hands-length was enough. And suddenly there were men aplenty, men who made it obvious they would welcome his attention, many who pursued him. His wariness was deeply engrained, though, and it was tough to break out of old habits, but he did try. Unfortunately his attempts at dating had been spectacularly unsuccessful. Ever since he could remember he had dreamed of an epic romance, a love like the ones found in the lyrics of a Broadway musical or in the final reel of an old black and white movie, but life wasn't like the movies. He had a few encounters, but most ended up as one-night-stand where the guy left without a word before morning. Kurt decided either he was horrible in bed or he just wasn't the kind of guy that people imagined being in a relationship with (and let's face it, neither option made him anxious to try again). He quickly realized that he needed emotional attachment in order to have sex and since he wasn't getting it, he stopped.

Time passed and soon he was living out his wildest career dreams. As things in that avenue of his life got better he started to wonder if maybe it was time to open himself up to the possibility of love again, but then he moved to Hollywood. The false faces everyone wore there turned his stomach, so he stayed far out of reach of the Lotharios that haunted the clubs and industry parties. Everywhere he went he was surrounded by men who didn't care if you were a serial killer as long as you were good looking or could give them a leg up in their career and he felt his cynicism grow. And, of course, success was not without its price. Suddenly the bullying was back — from the right wing media and politicians, from anonymous people on the internet, from co-stars who were willing to do anything to get ahead, and industry people who regularly picked on those beneath them in the food chain.

So there he was — a star in the making, but no less lonely, no less unsure of his place in the world. He found the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

After having reluctantly agreed to Bev's not-really-a-suggestion that he hire Blaine he had found himself swept up in a whirlwind of plans. When Bev had asked Blaine when he could start he had replied with a disgustingly peppy "No time like the present," and before Kurt knew it he had found himself in the car (after watching Blaine perform a quick security sweep of the garage that Kurt found wholly unnecessary), driving them both to his house. Blaine had come to L.A. just to take Kurt on as a client, so he didn't have a car. He'd come right from the airport to Bev's office, so he had all of his belongings with him and would send for the remainder the next day.

Kurt made a right turn towards his house in the Hollywood Hills and gave thanks that he was the one doing the driving, as it kept him from spending too much time looking at Blaine. They were only 10 minutes from Kurt's house when Blaine broke the silence. "So, Kurt, tell me about what's been going on with this potential stalker."

"Didn't Bev tell you all about it?"

"Yeah, but I want to get your take on it. Understand how seriously, or not, you're taking this."

Kurt squirmed in his seat a bit, uneasy with the topic. He downplayed the situation to Bev and pretended that it didn't worry him, but it was definitely something that came to mind from time to time. "About three months ago I started to get these letters, on almost a daily basis, from someone claiming to be my biggest fan. They were…intense right from the start, going on and on about how I had changed their life, how they've been my biggest fan since the musical premiered on Broadway, how we were perfect for each other if only we could meet, that kind of thing. Hey, do you think this is some kind of record? Only five months since my first movie premiered and I might already have a stalker?"

He could see his attempts to lighten the mood were not totally appreciated, so he continued on. "At first the letters came to Bev's office, like all of my fan mail, but within a couple of weeks they started coming to my home. Eventually hand delivered packages began showing up and the letters started including details about what I had done that day, who I had seen, like someone was following me. I started getting hang-up calls from a blocked number and then a month ago a letter came that had a photo of me inside my house that someone had taken through the window. That was the last straw for Bev. She demanded I move to a new house with better security, rented under a fictitious name, and started having a chauffeur pick me up almost every time I left the house." Blaine gave him a speaking look and glanced around the car. "I know, I know. I rebelled this morning and insisted on driving myself."

Blaine shot him another look that promised that such rebellion was now in the past. "Did the new house make a difference?"

"I have been 100 percent personal delivery free since I moved in and the letters have slowed to a trickle and kind of returned back to their original 'I love you, you are my destiny' vibe. I don't know if they got bored with following me around or just can't find me, but this is why I think Bev's over-reacting. Things are better. I don't need a shadow."

Blaine ignored the last part of his statement. "You have personal protection at events, right? How long has that been going on?"

Kurt checked for traffic in his mirrors then made a left turn onto a quieter side street. "From the very beginning. The studio was worried that me being so open about my sexuality would bring the crazies out, so they hired Steve —whom I affectionately call 'The Mountain', though never to his face — and he's been with me for all big public events since. We've never really had a problem. Just slightly overzealous fans, obnoxious paparazzi, and a few 'you're going to burn in hell' protestors, but who doesn't have those, right?"

Kurt turned off the road onto a driveway and reached up to the visor above his head to push a button to open the giant, solidly built gate that blocked their way. Once the gate opened he drove through and in moments they were in front of a lovely Spanish bungalow-style house. It might have been just a rental, but Kurt always felt a sense of homecoming as soon as he saw its apricot colored exterior and red tiled roof. The house had been built in the 1920's and had been recently been renovated, so it had all the modern comforts and updates, but still had a sense of history and was surrounded by lush gardens. It was stylish, but not frivolous, much like its current occupant.

Kurt parked the car in the partially detached garage and crossed the short covered walkway to the back door of the house. He unlocked the door and keyed the code into the security system before motioning Blaine inside for the grand tour. Kurt was proud of what he had been able to do with the place in just a few weeks. The house had come furnished with stylish furniture from Crate and Barrel, so there was only so much he could do to make it his own, but the colors were neutral and the prints thankfully very tasteful, so he was happy. He had rearranged the rooms to great effect (if he did say so himself) and created a little haven that felt like home. He had stored away most of the loose décor items that had come with the house and put out his own personal things — pictures of his family and friends, his Tony, framed Broadway posters, and favorite knick-knacks from his apartment in NYC. It wasn't perfect and his office was still half-full of unopened boxes, but the house now said something about the personality of the person who lived there and he was comfortable.

He watched Blaine surreptitiously as they walked through the rooms of the house, caring more about what he thought than was sensible given that they had only known each other a few hours. Kurt chalked it up to the fact that Blaine was only the third person to see what he had done with the place. He was allowed to feel anxious until at least the fifth person. He showed Blaine the two guest bedrooms and let him pick which one he wanted for his own. He then left Blaine to unpack his small carry-on bag and went to the kitchen to pour them some drinks. He quickly mixed together some iced tea and came out of the kitchen to find Blaine in the living room looking over a series of family photos nestled on top of the piano in the corner.

"Your family, I assume?" Blaine asked, accepting a glass of tea from Kurt.

"Dad, step-mom, and step-brother. They're all still back in Ohio."

"What are you going to tell them?"

Kurt didn't even bother to pretend to misunderstand. "I'm not sure yet. They don't know about the letters and I'd prefer to keep it that way. I don't want to worry them and if I tell them that I now I have full time bodyguard there's no way the whole story isn't coming out. I think I'll take a page from Scarlet O'Hara's book and think about that another day."

"Do you mind if I do a closer inspection of the house? I know Bev had a security company do an evaluation before you moved in, but I'd like to take another look, see if I find any security problems or changes I would recommend."

"Of course, be my guest. Faites comme chez vous." Blaine looked at him blankly. "Sorry. Make yourself at home."

Kurt watched as Blaine scoped out the house, methodically reviewing it room-by-room. Kurt tried to act casual, but his eyes kept going to Blaine's round and (presumably) firm ass as he bent over to examine a door lock. Damn, he was going to be lucky to have a coherent thought for the entire time Blaine was with him. Blaine gave a walking commentary as he went through each room, helping Kurt to understand what he was doing and why, but most of the time Kurt just tuned out what he was saying and concentrated on the man himself. Blaine's demeanor was very formal and proper, yet strangely comforting and Kurt would bet that he was great working with kids (and his hands, he bet he was good with his hands). He admired Blaine's concentration and attention to detail (along with his ass). It reminded Kurt of the thoroughness with which he researched a new part.

As Blaine rose up on his tip-toes to run his fingers along the top a window casing, Kurt's eyes were once again drawn to the lines of his body, which were sleek and toned (though he was being done no favors by the ultra-basic, unflattering clothes he was wearing). Kurt had always thought he had good posture, but Blaine put him to shame and he found himself pulling his shoulders back and lengthening his neck slightly to compensate.

Blaine finished writing up some notes and excused himself so that he could call his company and have a few items sent to the house. Kurt watched him go, struggling to keep up his aloof façade. Blaine was so confident and contained and Kurt envied that. Sometime he felt like he was a big fraud and that at any moment someone was going to stand up, point at him, and loudly exclaim that he was an imposter, that losers like him didn't belong in Hollywood. He bet that Blaine never had doubts like that. Kurt sighed and picked up the discarded glasses to take them back to the kitchen, wondering if it was too soon to call this whole bodyguard thing a disaster in the making.

=^..^=

Later that evening, Kurt walked out of his bedroom, making one last adjustment to the silver print scarf casually knotted around his neck. He had promised a former co-worker weeks ago that he would make an appearance at a party she was throwing at a local club, but he was feeling uneasy now that it would be his first public outing with his human barnacle.

He called out for Blaine to hurry up as he leaned over to wipe a smudge from his new Burberry boots. He thought his selected ensemble achieved the playful, yet edgy effect he was looking to achieve. Since hitting the Hollywood scene he had garnered quite the reputation for his fashion choices and was definitely feeling the pressure to look incredible and on-trend whenever he went out. Unlike Blaine, who dressed like an accountant. Kurt paused as a sensible pair of loafers appeared next to his boots and he raised his eyes past the dark gray slacks and classic white button-up to Blaine's face. "I did say we're going to a club, right? Not an actuary convention."

Blaine looked down at his clothes self-consciously and reached up a hand to smooth away a non-existent wrinkle. "Sorry, I don't have much with me today, though the rest of my clothes aren't much better. I try and blend into the background when I'm working with kids and I'm always working, so this kind of thing is really all I own these days."

Kurt rolled his eyes and made a mental note to take Blaine shopping. There was no way he was going to be photographed constantly with Blaine dressed the way he was. Just the association alone would bring down his fashion rep.

The car, driven by Kurt's regular chauffer, Bill, arrived and Blaine hurried out first to introduce himself. He opened the SUV door for Kurt and made sure they were both buckled in before giving Bill the 'ok' to head out. It only took them about 20 minutes to reach the club, during which time Kurt tried to keep his mind off of Blaine, but his eyes kept returning to him over and over. Blaine didn't seem to have the same problem, spending the first few minutes watching the cars behind them to make sure they weren't followed before settling in to read through a file he had brought with him.

When they arrived at the club's VIP entrance Blaine got out first and did a discreet scan of the area before opening the door for Kurt. He gently took ahold of Kurt's hand to help him down from the SUV and the gentlemanly move had Kurt suppressing a sigh that would have done a teenage girl proud. Kurt knew it was all part of the job, but he got a little thrill from the old-fashioned courtesy (though he would never admit it, even if his vintage Chanel car coat was threatened).

The inside of the club was predictably loud and the 'thumpa-thumpa' music showed no imagination or originality, but the crowd seemed to be having a good time. Penny, who had worked with him on his first movie, was throwing the party to celebrate the premier of her new TV series, so the VIP room was filled with the usual suspects of actors, writers, agents, groupies, and behind-the-scenes piranhas and hangers-on. Kurt heard a squeal rise above the house music when Penny saw him and briefly wondered if she had ever considered doing voice work for monster sound-effects as he submitted to her bone crushing hug. He introduced Blaine as a friend visiting from out-of-town and pretended not to see the half-questioning, half-calculating look she shot his way. They talked for a bit before Penny peeled away to great the next newcomer and then he and Blaine went to the bar to grab drinks. Once they had Kurt's Cosmo (with added paper umbrella, thank you very much) and Blaine's ginger ale, they threaded their way back through the mob to the seating area.

Kurt grabbed a seat on an empty sofa against the back wall, as far away from the main action as possible while still remaining in the club. Blaine looked torn for a moment while he decided where to sit, finally selecting a chair next to Kurt instead of joining him on the sofa, perhaps knowing that Kurt needed to maintain some semblance of personal space in the midst of all of this. As they sat and watched the dancing, Kurt ran his hand back and forth across the soft suede of the sofa, letting some of the tension of the day drain out, carried away by the textures rubbing up against the pads of his fingers.

He was so caught up in the hypnotic movements of the dancers and velvety feeling under his fingertips that he gave a jump of surprise when he felt the sofa dip with the weight of a body settling in besides him. He turned to see a man that he vaguely recognized as one of the bit players on Penny's show who he had met briefly at some event. A quick check showed that Blaine was watching the situation carefully, though stealthily, his drink set aside, body arranged in a deceptively casual pose, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. Kurt greeted the man (Eric? Patrick?) with a friendly, yet reserved "hello". They spoke for a few minutes and as the man got friendlier and moved in closer Kurt could feel himself withdraw. It wasn't that the man was doing anything wrong, because he wasn't, it was just that Kurt had never really become comfortable with being hit on. He was flattered, of course, but no matter how many years passed and how many new experiences he had, he still felt like that outcast kid in high school that no one wanted.

When the man reached over to place his hand of Kurt's knee, Kurt knew he had reached his limit. He crossed his arms protectively across his middle and shot a glance at Blaine, hoping that his message was clear.

Blaine, who had been keeping his distance, clearly not wanting to overstep, especially since they weren't playing the boyfriend card yet, immediately jumped into action. He moved over next to Kurt and sat lightly on the arm of the sofa next to his shoulder, not quite touching him, but only inches away. He didn't say anything, but just looked pointedly at the man until he shifted uncomfortably and made a lame excuse before making a hasty exit. Blaine remained where he was as a few other acquaintances stopped by to speak with Kurt.

Eventually the throng of dancers got larger and started to encroach on the seating area. A giggling girl stumbled by, spilling her drink of Kurt's designer jeans and boots. He gave her a look that should have turned her to stone, but she didn't seem to notice, concentrating only on making a bee-line for the bar to get a replacement drink.

Kurt set aside his barely touched Cosmo. He hated parties like this. He was miserable and could feel tequila soaking into his skin through the wet denim. He just wanted to go home and watch some bad reality TV and judge people, was that too much to ask? He checked the time on this phone and determined that he had paid his dues and could now slip out without being considered rude.

At his signal Blaine called the car to meet them at the exit. Kurt said his goodbyes to Penny and before he knew it they were on the way back to his house.

After an awkward 'goodnight' and a few hours of watching 'Bonding with the Beckhams' while snuggled beneath his Ralph Lauren comforter and marveling that Harper Beckham owned a pair of stiletto heels at age seven (but then, what could be expected with a mother like Posh?), Kurt turned off the light and thought about the events of the day and wondered how this was going to change his life. He wiggled deeper into his mattress and feel asleep humming 'Me and My Shadow.'