CHAPTER 19

The next couple of years provided a respite, of sorts.  Burt had no serious health issues.  The children's health issues were related mostly to sports injuries.  Blaine and Kurt had both cut down their performance schedule, doing only one or two limited engagement shows each year, although Blaine was still choreographing most of his own shows, and Kurt still danced when he wasn't performing just to avoid getting rusty.  The change allowed them to spend more time with the kids and with each other, and they were glad.

Compared to some of their friends' children, theirs were pretty calm and didn't seem very rebellious.  All in all, most of their close friends had fared pretty well.  Stephen's greatest act of rebellion had been to take Quinn's car and drive it to school to impress a girl; unfortunately, he didn't have a license and ended up wrecking it while trying to turn into the parking lot, and since his father worked at the school, he had no hope of hiding it, even temporarily.  Amelia had cut her hair like an eighties era punk rocker, complete with pink stripe, and dated a boy Santana didn't like; that lasted until he tried to pressure her to have sex, and her response was to punch him in the jaw.  Kurt and Blaine found out when Santana called to thank Blaine for having taught Amelia how to box.  Tina and Mike's three children reacted to their parents multiple divorces and remarriages (always to each other), by becoming deeply involved in church, something neither of their parents had ever been very committed to.  Kitty and Artie's daughter dove head-first into academia and classical music, never giving anyone else a shot at valedictorian or first chair cello, completely rejecting cheerleading, movies, and other things that had been important to her parents in high school; their son, on the other hand, auditioned for teen movies with little redeeming artistic value.  One of Sam and Mercedes' daughters insisted on attending a different church than her parents, another worked to become a model, and their son displayed no interest in school work, sports, singing or the arts of any kind, instead hanging around Hummel Tire and Lube and learning all he could about cars.  Patrick's act of rebellion was to refuse music lessons other than piano, and to constantly remind his parents that left to his own devices he wouldn't even play that.  Ian's was to focus on hard rock, rejecting the pop and show tunes his fathers loved.  At only thirteen, Ellie hadn't really found a way to be a rebellious teenager, although she had rebelled against anything she didn't like since birth, in any way she could think of, but they were generally small rebellions:  refusing to eat something, yelling, talking back, refusing to be quiet during someone else's lessons.  Kurt and Blaine had, on more than one occasion, congratulated themselves and their friends on how well they were tackling the sometimes daunting job of raising children in the modern world.

They were therefore unprepared when they were about to leave to go out to dinner one evening and Ian announced, “Ellie isn't coming.”

Kurt was annoyed.  They were already slightly late.  “What do you mean she isn't coming?”

“She says she's not coming,” Ian said slowly, as if his father was slightly daft.

Kurt stormed up the stairs as Ian yelled up, “She's locked in her bathroom.”

Entering his daughter's room without knocking, he crossed to her bathroom door.  He tried the knob, but Ian was correct:  it was locked.  “Ellie, we're late.  This isn't funny.  Get downstairs, now.”

“Get Auntie Tana,” Was her response.

“Why?  What's going on?”  This wasn't like Ellie.  Defiance, maybe yelling, but not this.

“I don't want to talk about it.  Just call her.” 

Kurt saw his daughter's phone on her nightstand, and guessed she would have called herself if she'd had it with her.  So something she wasn't anticipating happened, something she wouldn't talk about, at least not to him.  And something that caused her to refuse to leave the bathroom.  He just couldn't figure out what it might be.  “If you won't talk to me about whatever it is, will you talk to Papa?”

“No!  Call Auntie Tana!”

Kurt gave up, and called Santana.  She was at work, but promised to come over immediately.  She arrived less than an hour later, carrying a tote bag.  “I have no idea what's going on,” Kurt told her.

“I think I do,” She said, knocking on the door.  “Ellie, Sweetie, it's Auntie Tana.  Open up.”  The door quietly clicked and Santana turned to Kurt, saying, “Scram for a few minutes.  Everything will be fine, I promise.”

“How can you know?”  Kurt asked.  Santana just gave him a glare.  He turned and left, going down to wait with Blaine and the boys.

Five minutes later, Santana motioned to the two men and pointed to the kitchen.  “First of all, Ellie's fine.”

“What's going on?”  Kurt had to know.

“She got her period, you idiot.  It was exactly what I thought.”

“Why would you guess that, of all things?”

“Um, she's the right age, and I've been through this twice before, remember?”

“Oh,” Blaine said.

“Yeah, oh.  So while we're at it, you do know that top-flight private school you send her to has no sex-ed, and hasn't even discussed puberty with the kids?  And why haven't you talked to her about what was going to happen?”

Both men blushed.  “I guess I thought we'd have time,” Blaine said.

“And I'm not really completely up on what happens when, and . . . it's hard, being a guy, trying to talk about that,” Kurt told her.  Blaine nodded.

“Right, Moron, and it wasn't hard on her, not knowing what was going on?  She'd heard some from friends but she wasn't sure what to expect or if what she'd heard was true or not.  You two have a daughter.  It's your job to educate yourselves so you can prepare her.  I'm taking her with me, she's going to spend a girls' weekend at our place.”

“You don't have to do that,” Kurt protested.

“And don't you have to go back to work?”  Blaine asked.

“She's already packing.  We're going to have a talk about puberty and women's bodies, and boys and their bodies.  And we're going to have the talk.  And I expect you to have the talk with her again after she gets back, and soon.  You should take this weekend to discuss it with the boys if you haven't already.  And yes, I have to go back to work; she's going with me.”  Santana explained her plans.

“You can't take our daughter to a gay bar!”  Kurt argued.

“And she's too young,” Blaine said.

“First of all, tonight I'm working at Mix; it's pretty open, and predominantly straight.  Remember, seven clubs now?  Second, she'll do the same thing Amelia and Brianna do when they come to work with me:  hang out in the office, which is where I am the majority of the time.  I only go to the floor once or twice a night, sometimes not at all, and never for more than a few minutes, unless I'm going to party.  I hire very competent management and security, and provide free water, coffee, tea and soft drinks for New York's finest.  It's pretty rare for me to need to be on the floor.”  Santana wasn't backing down.  “And, finally, she's not too young.  She's pretty and she could get pregnant.  Brit was only thirteen when she lost her virginity to some perv at cheer camp; she's just lucky she didn't get pregnant or get an STD.  Ellie needs to know.”

The men had lost, and they knew it.  They also had to admit that Santana was right, at least as far as Ellie needing to be educated went.

* * *

Their dinner plans cancelled, they ordered pizza for themselves and the boys.  Leaning against the kitchen counter, Kurt said, “I think I need to call my dad.”

“Why?”  Blaine was concerned.

“He gave me the best version of the talk I've ever heard of, and as much as I hate to admit it, Satan's right, we need to talk to the boys.”

“You do know your dad gave you the talk because I pushed him to do it, right?”

“Yeah.  And thank you.  I don't know.  This is just so hard to talk about, and I can't help thinking that if either of them was gay it might be easier.  At least we'd know what we were talking about first hand.  I've always known I was gay and I've never been even remotely attracted to girls, and other than your drunken kiss and the subsequent sober one with Rachel you've never been attracted to them or experimented with them.”

“Don't remind me.  And I only kissed her the first time because we were playing spin the bottle.”  Blaine laughed.  “We could take a page from your dad's book and go get them some pamphlets.”

“Oh, God, don't remind me.  I was so horrified when he handed me those.”

“For what it's worth, I don't think it would be any easier if they were gay,” Blaine said.  “I think it's just one of those things that's supposed to be hard on everyone involved.”

“I'm still not sure about that.  Think this might be the thing that prompts at least one of them to come out of the closet?”

Blaine sighed.  “The other night they were watching women's beach volleyball on TV.  Based on the conversation going on, I'm pretty sure they weren't interested in the score or strategy, at least not any that had anything to do with the game, so somehow I don't think so.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the pizza.  Calling the boys into the dining room, they all sat down to eat.

Looking at Kurt, who nodded, Blaine started.  He didn't want to be like his dad, who had never had this talk with him because he was uncomfortable with Blaine's sexuality, and the fact that it was different from his own.  He also wanted to do a better job than his dad had done with Cooper, who told him his dad basically covered protecting oneself from disease and unwanted pregnancy, along with basic mechanics, but nothing else.  “Boys, we need to talk to you.”

“About what?”  Ian asked around a mouthful of pizza.  “Hey, leave some pepperoni for me, Patrick.  I'm not getting stuck with nothing but Dad's veggie special.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full, Ian,” Kurt said.  This was not going the way he'd envisioned.

Swallowing, Ian said, “You wanted to talk to us about talking with food in our mouths?”

Kurt buried his face in his hands.  “Shut up, Ian,” Patrick said, taking two pieces of the coveted pepperoni pizza.

“If we're talking about table manners, can you tell him not to tell me to shut up?”  Ian asked.

“We want to talk to you about sex,” Blaine said, raising his voice slightly.

Both boys stopped chewing.  After a moment of tense silence Patrick managed to swallow.  “Um, what about it?”  Patrick asked.

“Any chance either of you are gay?  Because, you know, it's really okay if you are and it might be a little easier . . . .”  Kurt trailed off.

The brothers exchanged a look and shook their heads.  “We have different types,” Ian said, “But we both like girls.  Why?”

“No reason,” Kurt said.

“I like blondes, tall, busty ones,” Ian enthused.

“And I like brunettes and red heads, how well-endowed they are physically doesn't matter to me, but they need to be smart.  Like Ellie, only not my sister, older, and a lot less mean.”

“She's only mean because she's your sister,” Blaine said, “She's not like that with everyone else.”

“Ha,” Ian countered, “As long as you don't piss her off.”

“Can we please get back on topic?”  Kurt asked.

“Where is Ellie anyway?”  Patrick wanted to know.

“With Aunt Santana,” Kurt told him.

“What, did she get her period or something?”  Ian asked.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look.  “I knew it!”  Patrick crowed.  “You owe me five bucks, Ian.  Told you she was bitchier than normal.”

“Enough about your sister.  Back to sex.”  Kurt tried to regain control of the conversation.  He thought back on what he'd just said and groaned.  He never thought he'd utter that sentence, especially not to his children.

“Maybe we should start with what you know, I mean, I know guys talk, so you may have heard some things from your friends . . . .”  Blaine tried.

“Well, Michael, you know, the goalie from the school's varsity soccer team, insisted that a girl couldn't get pregnant her first time,” Ian began.

Kurt groaned.  “That's . . . .”

“Wrong,” Patrick finished for him.  “Which is why his girlfriend is finishing the school year in a different school.  Also why he's grounded, for life, I think, and why she spent the last month she was at our school puking in the girls' bathroom.”

“So, is everything you know based on what friends have told you?”  Blaine asked.

Patrick had the grace to blush a bit.  “Um, no.  We've looked things up on the internet.”

They spent the next half hour discussing what the boys had learned, either from friends or from the internet, and affirming the information that was correct, while correcting that which wasn't.  Kurt then gave them his version of his father's speech about how sex makes you vulnerable and changes you, and how you should use it as a way to connect to someone else, someone you love, and who loves you, not just for the physical sensation. 

“Have either of you thought about having sex yourselves?”  Blaine ventured.

“Papa, we're sixteen,” Patrick pointed out.  “Of course we have.”

“And we've both had girlfriends,” Ian continued.  “I still have one.”

“And I had one until a couple of weeks ago.  Too many artistic differences,” Patrick said.

“Which means what?”  Kurt wanted to know.

“Which means she insists that what I do, what I paint, matters less than what she writes.  I would never tell her what she's doing is worth less than what I do.  And it's not that she thinks I'm not a good artist, but she thinks painting, visual art, is less important than the written or spoken word.”

“So this is an art versus literature breakup?”  Blaine asked.

“Yes,” Patrick confirmed.

Suddenly Kurt had an awful thought.  “Have either of you had sex yet?”

The boys looked at each other slightly guiltily and Kurt got a sick feeling in his stomach.  “Well,” Patrick began, “Neither of us has gone all the way.”  He looked to his brother, who nodded.  “But second base, definitely.”

Ian cut in.  “And I've hit a solid triple.”

“Really?”  Patrick asked, high fiving his brother.  “When were you going to tell me?”

“When we got privacy and weren't doing something else, probably in the next couple of days.”

“Amber?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, God,” Kurt moaned.  This was definitely not what he wanted to find out.  They spent the next several minutes discussing how to prevent both pregnancy and STD's.  Blaine looked at Kurt, then informed the boys they would be making an appointment to be tested for STD's, given Ian's confession.  Their sons protested, but ultimately gave in.

* * *

As they sat in bed that night, Kurt turned to Blaine and said, “I can't believe the boys are already so, um, active.  I mean, my dad didn't give me the talk until I was seventeen, and as attracted to you as I was, I really didn't want to think about what that meant physically.  And I didn't lose my virginity, or go past first base, until I was eighteen.”

“But it was with me, and I'm nearly a year and half younger.”

“I guess.  But you always seemed older.  Older than me in some ways.  And definitely older than the boys.”

“But I'm not older than you, and I wasn't much older than the boys.”

“True.  But that doesn't make me any happier about what the boys have been doing,” Kurt sighed.

“I know, Baby.  But we can't stop them from growing up.  They're young men.  All we can do is give them the tools they need to make good decisions.  Right now we make the rules and set the limits, but in a couple of years they'll be in college and making their own choices.”

“They're hardly more than babies.  And we make rules that they break and limits that they push and test constantly,” Kurt argued.

Blaine laughed.  “They're teenagers.  It's what they're supposed to do.  We did our share too, remember?”

“I don't remember it being this bad,” Kurt grumbled.

“We could call your dad and ask,” Blaine offered.

“No.  Let's not.  Somehow I don't think that would make me feel better,” Kurt said.