McKinley High let out for winter break. Exhausted, Kurt Hummel set his leather bag on his bed and promptly followed himself. He sighed into the white down comforter, before realizing it wouldn't be enough. He breathed in deeply and released with a wild banshee scream muffled only by the feathers in the bedding. School had beaten the eighteen-year old down. Between preparing for exams and college guidance meetings, Kurt was ready for any sort of break. Still burying his face down, all Kurt could hear was his forcefully controlled breathing. The thoughts of the stressful day whirred in his head so much so that it resulted in a dull nothing. Suddenly, his phone began vibrating from his front pocket that he was laying on top of.

"Argh!" His heart leapt from the scare. After a calming breath, he looked at the caller on his iPhone and sat up, answering the phone.

"Hello, boyfriend," Kurt smiled. Subconsciously, he flicked some hair out of his face.

"Hey, baby!" Kurt's smile widened at the pet name. "I was just wondering if that dinner is still on tonight?" New Directions was holding a winter break celebratory party.

"Yep, it is. At Breadstix," Kurt confirmed, but he could hear Blaine sigh. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to wear! I have numghf!" Kurt guessed Blaine had laid his face down on something, hearing the last word muffled. He chuckled, only hearing Blaine's whiny moans. His boyfriend often had these fashion breakdowns, not being safe in the normalcy of the Dalton uniform anymore.

"Okay, I got you. Let's take deep breaths, right?" Kurt coached. A louder groan was Blaine's response.

"Alright then," Kurt laughed. "How about your dark wash straight leg jeans with a button down shirt of your choice, half tucked in half not, and your vintage combat-looking boots."

"Can you repeat that? I need to write it down," Blaine sighed, receiving another laugh from Kurt. After a repeat diction of the outfit, the boyfriends agreed to meet up at Kurt's house to drive with Finn to the dinner and bade farewell. Kurt stood up from the bed and walked to his rather large closet.

Now it was Kurt's turn to choose an outfit. Seeing as he couldn't copy Blaine's design, he stood in front of his closet deciding. He eyed the beige cashmere pullover and thought it would be a perfect opportunity to show it off.

He pulled his shirt off but was promptly met by a loud scream. Finn had clambered into his basement bedroom for some unknown reason. He whipped around, screaming as well. Finn, scared by Kurt's high-pitched scream, cried out with gusto. Annoyed, Kurt yelled back just to get Finn to stop. The air became silent once more.

Kurt was just about to open his mouth to demand why Finn was screaming in the first place, when he realized he was shirtless. Damn. His tattoo. It had been a week since he had gotten it, a week since turning eighteen. The ink wasn't small either. It stretched almost from his armpit to his hip bone on one side. And Finn was staring, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Kurt was slightly proud at the reaction.

"Wh-you-it-what…huh?" Finn still stood on the stairs. Kurt held up his hands to silently tell Finn to stop and calm himself. After a couple of deep breaths, Finn spoke up.

"When did you get that?" He asked, pointing, out of breath it seemed like.

"On my birthday," Kurt simply replied.

"Why?" Finn pressed on further.

"Because I could," Kurt smirked at his step-brother.

"But you never seemed like one to get a tattoo," Finn quietly said, tilting his head to the side as if contemplating. All Kurt could do was shrug. People made assumptions so often. Deep down he absolutely loved showing them wrong. There was a beauty in this mode of rebellion, he thought.

"Did you come down here for a reason?" Kurt crossed his arms and tapped his foot in the most diva manner. Finn said nothing, only staring at Kurt's body art. A minute passed in silence.

"God, just leave me so I can work on my outfit. We leave in thirty minutes, okay?" Kurt turned back to face his clothes. Finn began stomping his way back upstairs. Humming a tune from Wicked, Kurt finalized his outfit of the beige cashmere sweater with white skinny jeans, loafers, and a red ascot. And of course he had to add the black Burberry coat. Perfect.

After completing his look with coiffed hair and product-covered face to look fresh, Kurt bound up the stairs to find Blaine sitting on the couch waving his hand in front of a dazed Finn. He sat on the big leather chair, staring off into space, brows furrowed.

"What's with him?" Kurt sincerely asked. Blaine jumped up to cross the room and greet Kurt with a casual kiss.

"Hi, babe. Yeah, I really have no clue. He let me in and just turned right back around to sit there," he pointed out. They both looked down to scrutinize Finn.

"And he's mute," Kurt guessed.

"I think he's in shock," Blaine scratched his head. "Did something happen?" Kurt thought for a second before it dawned on him.

"Ahh. Well, he caught a glimpse of my tattoo earlier." Blaine ahhh-ed as well, nodding his head. The boys were silent for a moment, staring at Finn, who was now staring at Kurt. No one moved. Not even when Burt came into the room with his plate of dinner. He stopped abruptly at the odd scene already occupied in the room.

"Well, this is weird," he intelligently said. Kurt shrugged and turned to him.

"We're leaving now. New Directions party, remember?" Burt nodded his approval.

"Okay, kids. Go have fun. Drive safe," he warned. Kurt kissed the top of his head before shooing both Blaine and Finn out.

"What's with Frankenteen?" Santana asked when Kurt and Blaine came into the restaurant, both linking an arm through Finn to guide him. He had simply refused to act like a normal human being. The car ride to the restaurant was… uncomfortably silent to say the least. Finn just kept staring at Kurt like he was a freak or something (Blaine wasn't being helpful by joining in the staring just to annoy his boyfriend). Now being dragged in, Finn was the one looking like a freak.

"Hey, guys," Kurt greeted the group. The entire New Directions sat in the dining room of Breadstix. Their faces lit up upon seeing their friends. Hellos were exchanged. Both Kurt and Blaine made one more final tug and plopped the large teen down onto a chair. Rachel came fluttering over. She took his face into her hands.

"What did you do to my baby?" she whined. Blaine sniggered behind a hand. Kurt rolled his eyes and led them both far away from Rachel's doting, which happened to be the opposite side of the extra long table.

"Finn, what's wrong?" She tapped on his thigh. Still no response.

"Did you see something?" Suddenly, Finn snapped into motion, nodding his head fervently. His eyes were still glued in Kurt's direction, and Rachel picked up on it.

"Was it Kurt?" she asked. Again a nod. Rachel shot a sassy look at the two boyfriends who were sharing a chair, Kurt in Blaine's lap. They were chatting amiably with Britney and Santana. Their PDA was always evident when they had friends around to act as a possible protection.

Rachel asked, "Did you walk in on them… doing something?"

"Kurt," Finn whispered, and Rachel leaned down, "got a huge tattoo." No one was prepared for the shrill screech that came from the little lady.

"HOLY F-," she caught herself with an innocent face, "Oh, sorry." Everyone just stared. From across the table, Rachel addressed Kurt.

"Kurt, is that true?" The entire glee club turned to look at the one being questioned. Kurt's eyes widened.

"What's true?" He asked cautiously.

"THAT YOU GOT A TATTOO!" Finn abruptly exclaimed. He slapped a hand over his mouth after the outburst while Kurt shot daggers with his facial expression. New Directions bubbled and screeched with this news.

"Badass, Hummel," Puck began with a smirk.

"Never picked you out to get one."

"Did you even consider your Broadway career?"

"Seriously, white boy?"

"Is it a unicorn picture?"

"Did you get it somewhere naughty?" asked Santana with a wink. Kurt held up his hands and commanded the room to be silent. He sighed before beginning his explanation.

"Yes, I did get a tattoo," the room murmured with excitement, "on my side," Santana visibly deflated, "a week ago."

"We want to see it!" Tina said happily. Artie began a small chant of 'ta-ttoo, ta-ttoo, ta-ttoo.' Kurt shook his head and gave a defeated sigh.

"You guys are so weird." Standing up from Blaine's comfortable lap reluctantly, he hiked up his sweater up the side just enough so the whole team could get a glimpse of the text and design. Wolf whistles, audible gasps, and complimenting praises traveled around. Kurt felt good about this reaction. Blaine kept a hand on his hip, too, proud of his "badass" boyfriend.

"Nice, Kurt!"

"Oh, that looks really cool."

"Whoa, it's kind of big."

"That's what she said."

"Leave it to Santana to revert that phrase."

"Leave it to Artie to use the word 'revert'."

"That's not even a prodigious word, Mercedes."

"Really?"

"Oh for crying out loud!"

"Can I touch it?" Britney asked lightly. Kurt gave consent but threw in an odd look. Britney reached out and poked his side. Blaine burst out into giggles, especially when Kurt jerked back, tickled.

"You touch it like this," he claimed, sliding his hand gently up and down Kurt's side, sending shivers to the standing boy's body. Britney followed suit. Blaine nodded, smiling. Finally, Kurt had enough. He wiggled around before replacing his shirt and plopping down onto Blaine who gave a slight, "Oof!" at the sudden weight.

"Yep. You are all definitely out of your minds," he said confidently.

"Is Kurt the only one with a tattoo?" Mike casually asked. Everyone looked at each other waiting for an answer. There were a select few of the high schoolers who were legal adults. To Kurt's surprise and, honestly, a bit of pride, no one claimed they had one. His eyes widened after a moment of self-basking.

"Not even you, Noah?"

"Not eighteen, yet," Puck replied with a twinge of sadness. "I can get my hands on alcohol, but tattoos? My mom would literally kill me," he finished, shaking his head. Jealous, obviously. Finn chose this moment to pipe up.

"Oh my god. Does Burt know?" he queried. Kurt laughed nervously and pulled at the sleeve of the beige sweater. He shook his head in the negative response. The entire table seemed to ignite with "Oooooohs" and "Good lucks." Kurt waved them off, feigning annoyance.

"That's what I told him," Blaine said as he kissed Kurt's cheek briefly.

"Oh, you will definitely be telling us how that goes down," Mercedes chimed in with a smug grin. The glee club members nodded in agreement. It would be interesting. The rest of the evening went as well as it possibly could with the group being who they were. Just the normal splitting off into off-topic conversations and snuggling close to their partners if they had them. Kurt and Blaine remained on one chair even when they got their dinner. Lovingly they fed one another, oblivious to the fact that they were the cutest, fluffiest couple that night. Even through all this, Kurt really had just one thing on his mind: how would his dad react to the tattoo?