“Mr. Hummel, you can’t come in without a pass,” the guard shouted.

“The President is my father, and lying sack of shit,” Kurt shrieked and he whirled around. “Is that enough of a pass for you?”

The guard stood there, dumfounded, but said nothing as Kurt went inside.

The guard at the gate must have radioed ahead to warn secret service that Kurt was on the warpath, because not once was he stopped. At least, not until he approached the Oval Office.

“Porcelain, you can’t go in there,” Sue called after him as he burst through the doors.

Burt and Carole were shocked when Kurt burst through the doors. They were entertaining some foreign dignitaries and hadn’t been expecting him.

“Kurt, honey, it’s so wonderful to see you again,” Carole said as she stood to greet him. “Please let me introduce the Prime Minister and his wife –”

“Carole,” Kurt seethed, “Get the fuck out of here, right now! My father and I need to have a conversation and I don’t think you’re gonna want to hear what I have to say.”

“Kurt! That is no way to talk to your step-mother. Not to mention, you’re being very rude to our guests!” Burt said, astonished at his son’s lack of composure.

“Do you want me to talk about Marcella Guevara in front of them?” Kurt threatened. He turned to one of the secret service agents. “Clear this goddamn room!”

While Carole escorted the Prime Minister and his wife out of the room, murmuring apologies the whole way, Sue moved to leave with them.

“Sue Sylvester,” Kurt called, his voice thick with rage, “Don’t you dare leave this room.”

Once it was just the three of them, Burt was the one to break the silence.

“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what this is all about, Scooter,” Burt said, placing his hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt jerked away from his father and crossed to the far side of the room. “Don’t you dare call me that! Don’t you fucking dare! You lied to me!” Tears were pouring out of Kurt’s eyes. “You clouded my judgment, and now a woman is dead, all because of a stupid nickname!”

Burt’s face paled. “Kurt, I never –”

“Burt, don’t!” Sue cut him off. “Politics is an ugly business, Porcelain, you of all people should know that.”

“What else did you lie to me about?” Kurt spoke around the sob that had escaped his throat.

“Buddy, you have to understand that –”

“WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT?”

“Kurt,” Sue said in a calm voice, “Maybe we should talk about this in the morning when you’ve had a chance to calm down and we can talk like three rational adults.”

Kurt took a deep breath and composed himself.

“Sue, maybe you should shut the fuck up and let me talk to my father,” he said in a frighteningly calm voice. He turned his attention back to Burt.

“You better come clean right now, Mister President, because, so help me god, if you lie to me ever again, I will go straight to the press with Marcella’s story and represent her family when they sue your sorry ass for wrongful death.”

“You might as well tell him, Burt,” Sue said with a sigh. “He’s bound to find out sooner or later.”

Burt moved behind his desk and practically collapsed into the worn leather chair that had come from the office of Hummel’s Tire & Lube. “Do you remember when we first began campaigning for all this?”

“Of course, I do,” Kurt said, “There was barely enough funding to get your campaign off the ground, and then suddenly, an anonymous donor bankrolled the entire campaign. What does this have to do with anything?”

Burt shook his head in defeat before continuing. “The donor wasn’t exactly anonymous. When he found out we were hurting for campaign contributions, Mr. Anderson stepped forward and –”

“Blaine’s father?” The realization hit Kurt like a ton of bricks. The nausea followed shortly thereafter. “There was never a child pornography scandal,” his voice wavered. “He wouldn’t donate the money unless Blaine and I broke up.”

“Kurt, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it right now!” Kurt shouted. Grasping around, he grabbed a crystal vase full of roses and threw it at his father’s head. The vase shattered against a painting. “You chose money over your own goddamn son!”

“Like I told you, Porcelain, politics is a messy business,” Sue said, stepping in front of Kurt to keep him from throwing anything else. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs –”

She didn’t get to finish before Kurt’s fist collided with the woman’s jaw.

“Kurt Emmett Hummel!” Burt cried, standing up from his seat.

Kurt marched forward, placed his hands on the desk to steady himself, and leaned in close to his father’s face. “I thought for a long time that you could never do anything that would make me say this,” Kurt spat, “But today, you proved me wrong. You are dead to me!”

Kurt stormed out of the Oval Office just as quickly as he had entered.

“Kid’s got a hell of a right hook, I’ll give him that,” Sue said, rubbing her jaw as she stood up.

“On a scale of ten, how screwed are we, Sue?”

"Chernobyl," the blonde woman replied flatly.

After the confrontation with his father, Kurt spent the rest of the night driving aimlessly around Washington. The sun had just started to peak over the horizon when he returned to his office.

Upstairs, he found Blaine curled up on the couch asleep. The sight of the man he loved so dearly, who had been wrenched away so painfully, melted his heart.

Kurt crossed the room in as few quiet steps as possible. Kneeling down in front of him, Kurt brushed a few stray curls off of Blaine’s forehead.

“Mmm… Kurt?” The curly-haired man said as he stirred awake.

“Hi there, handsome,” Kurt smiled at him.

Blaine sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What happened last night?”

“I learned the truth,” Kurt said sadly, “But that’s not important right now. What’s important right now is that I have a few things to say to you.”

“Ok,” Blaine said cautiously.

“One: I love you Blaine Anderson. I have always and always will love you. Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of my life, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Blaine said, tearing up a little. “Of course I forgive you, Kurt.”

“Good. Two: I want us to be< i>us again. I want everything with you.”

Blaine was full-on crying now. “Likewise.”

A stray tear slid down Kurt’s cheek as he continued speaking. “Finally, and this is the most important one, I’m going to kiss you now.”

Kurt leaned in, but then stilled for a minute, much to Blaine’s confusion.

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?” Blaine said with a wet laugh.

Kurt crashed their mouths together. The two men fell backwards on the couch, still kissing, hands exploring each other’s bodies.

Neither was sure how long they had spent attached at the mouth before their love-induced haze was broken by Santana’s voice.

“Incoming!” she called up the stairs.

Kurt and Blaine broke apart with a laugh. Blaine stood up first and offered his hand to Kurt.

“So, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said, flashing a toothy smile, “What do you think the day has in store for us?”

Kurt accepted Blaine’s hand, stood up, and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist as they made their way towards the stairs.

“Actually, I was thinking “Mr. Anderson” would be more appropriate. Seeing as we are engaged and all.” Kurt held his ring-adorned hand out in front of him.

“I love you so much,” Blaine said, planting a kiss on Kurt’s temple, “You have no idea.”

“You’ll just have to show me later then, won’t you?”

The two men laughed as they descended the stair to face whatever the world had to throw at them. But at least they would have each other, and not even the dirty politics of Washington would break them up.