Burt Hummel glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand.

3:57 a.m.

He sighed and rolled out of bed, knowing it was useless to even try to go back to sleep at this point. His alarm would be going off in antoher two hours anyways and after getting up for the fourth time since ten o’clock the night before he was fully awake, if not fully rested.

“Damn doctors and their damn diuretics,” he grumbled as he shuffled into his slippers. It was a short journey from his room to the bathroom down the hall but since his heart attack it seemed like his hands and feet were always cold.

His hand was on the knob to the bathroom door before he registered the sound of the shower running.

He paused, puzzled, because Carole had been sleeping soundly in their bed when he awoke, he could hear Finn snoring from his room down the hall, and even Kurt didn’t get up quite this early in the mornings to get ready, even when school was in session.

The water cut off and for reasons he didn’t even really understand Burt found himself shuffling back to his own bedroom, pulling the door almost shut, leaving just enough of an opening to have a clear view of the bathroom door that was slowly opening.

His grip on the door was almost enough to splinter the wood when he watched Blaine Anderson exit his bathroom at 4:06 a.m.

This was not happening.

He loved his son and had even taken quite a liking to the boy he’d been dating for the last few months. Blaine made Kurt happy and that was something he hadn’t been in a long time. Burt was thankful for Blaine coming into Kurt’s life.

But this was too much. Kurt knew how he felt about significant others staying the night in this household. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea but there were rules about these things and waking up to find his son’s boyfriend taking an early morning shower was not per these rules. The kid hadn’t been there when he’d gone to bed the night before so Kurt must have snuck him in sometime after that.

Burt was furious. The only thing keeping him from confronting Blaine right then and there in the hallway was the fear of waking up everybody in the house. He’d wait until the boy crept back into Kurt’s room, where the door was currently shut, and then he’d go downstairs and make some coffee and calm down a little so he could back upstairs, bust the two of them calmly and quietly and ground Kurt for the rest of his teenage life.

Only it didn’t happen like that.

Blaine did creep out of the bathroom like some kind of cat burglar (and Burt actually found himself grinning at the over exaggerated care he took to not make any noise) but instead of heading into Kurt’s room he walked right past the door, right past Burt and his barely open door and headed down the stairs. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a grocery sack in his hand and pressed himself as close as possible to the wall as he navigated the dark stairwell, pausing once when his foot on a stair caused the tiniest groan of the wood.

Burt watched him until he rounded the corner of the stairwell and listened for another few minutes until the familiar sound of the front door lock clicking shut reached him.

What the hell was going on here? Why was his son’s boyfriend sneaking in here in at four in the morning to take a shower? And where the hell was he going now?

Burt thought for a moment that maybe the whole thing had been some kind of waking dream, a side effect of the change in his medications for his heart, but the moisture still fogging the mirror in the bathroom proved that what he witnessed was right. No, not right. Real, but not right, because what he had seen did not feel right at all. It left his stomach twisted with a feeling of wrong and he knew that coffee was going to have to wait.

He sighed as he pulled on a jacket over his pajamas and stepped out into the still dark morning outside. He left the door just slightly ajar so that the unavoidably loud click of the handle wouldn’t wake anyone in the house (or alert anyone outside of his presence).

He looked around the yard for a minute, looking for any sign of where Blaine may have gone. After a moment he noticed the slightest dip in the dew wet grass and then a single pair of damp footprints next to Kurt’s Navigator. They would disappear with the rising sun but now, just minutes after their creation, they were like the X on a treasure map, marking the spot where Blaine had gone.

That feeling of wrongness in his stomach intensified when he put together the bits of information he had.
Blaine had snuck into his bathroom to shower when he thought that everyone was sleeping. He’d snuck back out of the house and into Kurt’s car. To do either of those things he must have had a key to both the house and the car, which meant that Kurt knew he was out there. This boy was sleeping in his son’s car, had been out there all night presumably.

Something was very wrong here.

Blaine’s eyes scrunched shut against the dome light.

“Kurt? It can’t be time to get up yet,” he grumbled sleepily. “It feels like I just got back to sleep.”

“That’s cause it’s not and you did.”

Blaine shot up at the sound of the voice that was definitely not Kurt’s. His eyes widened in fear as he came face to face with a very unhappy Burt.

“Um, Mr. Hummel, I, uh,…” he stammered.

What the hell was he supposed to say in this situation? It’s not what it looks like could be a way to go, but really, it was kind of exactly what it looked like. He was sleeping in Kurt’s SUV with one of Kurt’s old quilts and his extra pillow. Blaine followed Burt’s eyes to the cargo area where his suitcase and guitar along with a few other personal effects were lying about. His dirty clothes and wet towel were in a Wal-Mart sack in the floorboard next to an empty water bottle and his (now useless) phone.

Blaine’s mouth opened and closed a few times trying to come up with something to say, but to no avail. He simply swallowed around the lump forming in his throat and waited for Burt to tell him to get the hell off his property.

“Blaine, get out of the car.”

Blaine gathered his backpack with shaky hands and shoved his feet awkwardly into his sneakers. He didn’t dare look at Burt as he held out the keyring Kurt had given him.

“What are you doing kid?” Blaine chanced looking up to see Burt staring at him with his arms crossed and a look of puzzlement on his face.

“These are the keys Kurt gave me. I’m sorry about all this Mr. Hummel. I swear none of this is his fault. He was only trying to help me. I never wanted him to get in any trouble and—“

“Shut up,” Burt interrupts. “Now I don’t know what the hell is going on here but I do know that I’m not letting you walk to God-knows-where at the buttcrack of dawn. C’mon.”

Blaine's first instinct was to run. He was good at that. But after a while, running got to be tiring and right now he just didn't have the energy. He swallowed audibly and eased open the front driver's side door to lock the vehicle without sounding the horn.

He followed the elder Hummel into the house, making sure to close the door as silently as possible. Burt was already in the kitchen at the coffeepot, can of Folgers in hand.

“Don't tell Kurt this isn't decaf,” Burt grumbled. “He'd lecture me for an hour about it but at the moment I just need a regular cup of joe.”

Blaine nodded silently in the doorway, afraid to say anything lest the older man decide to stop being so friendly.

The silence stretched on as the old machine sputtered and groaned until the carafe was full.

Burt held out a mug and Blaine took it gratefully, the tension in his shoulders lessening slightly as he took his first sip.

He took Burt's lead and sat down at the table, waiting for the other man to break the now overwhelming silence.

“So,” Burt drawled, peering into his mug. “You mind telling me why you're camping out in Kurt's car? And why you were using my shower at four in the morning?”

Blaine's mind raced to figure out what he should say. Should he try to come up with some excuse? Or should he just flat out tell Burt everything? The man had been friendly enough, but Blaine knew from experience that the friendliest of faces could also be the most dangerous.

“I gotta be honest with you,kid. When I watched you walk outta that bathroom I was pissed. I figured you two were sneaking around behind my back and I had no problem waiting for you to get real comfortable in bed with my son before I came in, busted you and threw you out.”

Blaine's eyes widened at the implications that came with Burt's words. Maybe his instincts had been right and he should have run in the first place. Every muscle in his body prepared to flee and he tried to remember whether or not he had locked the front door. His shoes were on a mat in the entryway but he didn't think he'd have time to grab those so he would be starting the day off barefoot but it was better to have tender feet than a sore and broken body.

“But I got a feeling that this aint a matter of you shacking up with my boy.”

“No, sir, I promise you that's not it all,” Blaine said shakily. He could feel how tightly wound he was and that his body would soon reach it's breaking point. If something didn't happen soon he was going to snap like a rubber band. Whether he would run or just collapse had yet to be determined.

Burt raised his eyebrow at him and Blaine thought fleetingly that that must be where Kurt gets it from before opening his mouth to continue.

“Can I ask one thing?” Blaine's words were hesitant and he waited for Burt's nod before going on. “I don't want you to be mad at Kurt for any of this. It was all my idea and even though he wasn't comfortable with it, he went along with it for me.”

Burt's eyes bored into his but Blaine held the gaze. No matter what else, he didn't want Kurt to be in any trouble because of him.

“I will take that into consideration, but whether or not I'm going to be upset with my own son is my decision. At this point I'm more curious than mad, anyways.”

Blaine let out the breath that he'd been unaware he'd been holding and took another sip of coffee.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Hummel. I guess I should start at the beginning.”

“That's usually a good place,” Burt said wryly.

Blaine almost smiled at that, but the story he was about to tell kept him sober. He didn't want to talk about these things but if he had any chance of keeping Kurt out of trouble and maybe even being allowed to continue seeing him, he had to tell Burt everything. Kurt had always said Burt was a good man, an understanding man, but he didn't like being lied to and Blaine was of the belief that omissions were the same as lies.

“I've told you before that I don't have the best relationship with my father.”

Burt nodded at this and motioned for him to go on. Blaine sighed and let himself droop just a bit. He was still tense but he no longer felt the need to escape.

“He's not accepting of my sexuality, my “life choice” as he calls it. My mother is a little better. She was the one who insisted that I go to Dalton after the Sadie Hawkins dance my freshman year.” He paused there, glancing up at Burt. He had told Burt about the incident in passing before he and Kurt had gone to the prom, but he'd glossed over the details. “I know my mother loves me but I feel terrible about what standing up to my father cost her that day.”

“What do you mean, Blaine.” Burt's words were quiet but clear and that feeling of wrongness was twisting in his gut.

Blaine took a shaky breath. “My father was not normally a violent man. Angry yes, but not usually violent. At least he wasn't. But that day, when my mother told him no, that she wouldn't let him put me back in that school, he snapped. I don't think she'd ever gone against him before, and to do so for a faggot like me--”

“Hey!” Burt's growl startled him from his memories. “I don't ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that. That's not a word that's allowed in this house either.” He took a minute to steady himself, gulping down the last of his now lukewarm coffee. “I don't care what your father said about you, you are better than that. Remember that, Blaine. Now go on.”

Blaine had almost ran again when the older man had first spoken. Burt's words were angry and he was so used to the anger being directed towards him that it was hard to go against his survival instincts, sharpened to a fine point over the last four years by his own father. Only the thought of Kurt had kept him in his chair.

“So, yeah, she stood up for me and he knocked her down. Literally. I don't think it was the first time, but it was the first time I'd ever seen it. I think the only reason he didn't do the same to me was because I was still in a wheelchair at the time.”

Blaine chanced a glance at his boyfriend's father, but the man's face was carefully composed.

“He was gone on business for the rest of the time I was homebound, which was until right before the schoolyear started at Dalton. I had just finished my last round of physical therapy the day I moved into the freshman dorms.”

“Wait,” Burt interrupted. “I thought you were a freshman at that dance.”

Blaine kept his eyes on the woodgrain of the table and nodded slowly. “I was. The dance was in November of my freshman year. I was in the hospital until February and in a wheelchair until July. The curriculum at Dalton is already ahead of most public schools so it was decided that I should just start over. That's why I'm only going to be a junior this fall even though I'm three months older than Kurt.

“I stayed at the dorm over weekends and breaks, only came back during the summers. He would always have some kind of “activity” for us to do when he was around, something that he thought would “straighten me out”. He'd set me up with his colleagues' daughters and when he'd ask me how my date went I'd just tell him it was fine. He didn't hit me, but he made it clear that I was a disappointment to him because none of the first dates led to a second.

“When I came home from Dalton this time, I refused to be set up. He got mad and asked me why and instead of just telling him that I was gay and didn't want to date any girls, I told him I didn't want to cheat on my boyfriend. That was the wrong thing to say.”

Blaine closed his eyes as the memories of that first night home assaulted him. The fist crashing into his face, the seemingly endless stream of slurs and curses flying from his father's mouth, the blood pouring from his nose and the sounds of his mother's screams echoing off the high ceilings.

A hand on his shoulder broke him from his reverie and he was surprised to see Burt standing before him, his face a mask of rage. Blaine started to cower away from the man, but the hand on his shoulder was comforting, not violent, and the anger was not at him, but for him. He managed a watery smile and ducked his head, wondering to himself how he had become so lucky.

“So, he left the next day for a meeting in Cleveland and I waited a few days until my face looked better before letting Kurt see me, but I think he knew I wasn't really sick. When he came home a week later, the day after my eighteenth birthday, he said I was no longer his responsibility and to never step foot in his house again. I managed to get my guitar and my backpack and a suitcase full of clothes before he locked me out. I called Kurt and he came right over and got me, but that was the last call I made before he cut off my service.” He pulled the non-working phone out of his pocket and set it on the table, a picture of him and Kurt laughing lit up the display.

“Why do you keep that thing if it doesn't work?” Burt questioned.

Blaine smiled bitterly. “I wasn't able to have any pictures of Kurt out in my room, the framed ones from my dorm were still in a box and I didn't get to grab them before I left, but I have a ton in here. Some of my favorites actually.” He scrolled through his images until he found one, smiling fully for the first time since Burt had woken him. He passed the device to Burt.

The photo was of the two of them right before they had begun dating. Kurt's eyes were wide and his mouth was open in an 'O' of surprise while Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the perfect coif. Blaine was grinning over his shoulder.

“That's a pretty good one, kid,” Burt chuckled. “How are you still alive after that? Last time I ruffled Kurt's hair he bit my head off.”

“Yeah, I had to run and hide after that but it was worth it,” Blaine answered, laughing.

“Okay, so I get that your dad kicked you out, but that doesn't tell me why you're sleeping in the Nav and sneaking in here to clean up.” Burt's tone is kinder than before, but still has the ring of authority that Blaine knows means business. “Me and Kurt, we tell each other everything. Always have.”

“Kurt wanted to tell you right away, but I asked him not to. He said that you would understand, but I was...” Blaine bit his lip and peered at the older man, trying to decide just how much of the truth he wanted to tell him. Burt's face was kind, patient. He had to keep reminding himself that just because his own father was a douche, not everybody was like that. Kurt practically sang Burt's praises and from what Blaine had seen, Burt deserved it. “I was scared of telling you, actually,” he admitted weakly. He stared at the lit screen of his phone, still set to his favorite photo and continued speaking. “I was afraid that you wouldn't let Kurt see me any more. I figured I would sleep in the car until I found a job and was able to get an apartment and no one would ever have to find out about what happened.”

“Can I ask why you didn't want anyone to know?” Burt had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he wanted to make sure he understood exactly what was going on.

“I'm so ashamed,” Blaine whispered. “How awful am I if my own parents can't even stand me? It wasn't enough for them to just ignore, pretend like I didn't exist. They didn't even want my presence anywhere near them. What does that say about me?”

“No,” Burt said clearly, causing Blaine to flinch and tentatively meet his gaze. “What happened to you is not your fault and all it says about you is that you got dealt a crap hand when it came to your parents. There is no shame in asking for help when the people who are supposed to have your back let you fall.” Burt's words were quiet but filled with emotion. “It sounds like you've dealt with more crap in your short life than a lot of people ever have to even think about, but that's nothing to be ashamed of, kiddo. The fact that you've turned out to be as good a kid as you are—and you are, Blaine—is something to be proud of. You've been beaten down, but you haven't broke.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said in a voice thick with tears. He did his best to dash them away, but Burt saw. He'd followed the boy with the intention of finding out what was going on and maybe scaring the bejesus out of the kid a little, but he found himself wrapping the boy—eighteen or not he's still a kid—in his arms and letting him break down.

Burt held him until the sobs quieted down, never saying a word, just rubbing his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. After a while, Blaine pulled himself from Burt's grip, hoarse apologies falling from his lips as he wiped the tears from his face.

“Nothing to apologize for, kiddo,” Burt said holding Blaine's gaze. The boy's eyes were red from the crying but they looked a little more peaceful at least. It made Burt wonder just how long he'd been keeping all that in, bottling his emotions up like that.

He shook his head and moved from the table, grabbing his and Blaine's coffee mugs and placing them in the sink. He took a breath before turning back to the boy.

“Blaine, I gotta get down to the shop right now, but we'll talk more about what's gonna happen later tonight. It's Kurt's night to make dinner, but I think I'll let him have the day off and just order pizza. Go on and head up to Kurt's room and let him know what's going on. If you're tired you can sleep in there if that's okay with him, but only sleep, alright?”

Blaine blushed to the tips of his ears and stuttered out a reply. “Sir, uh, I mean, uh, Mr. Hummel, we haven't, I mean, we won't—“

Burt held up a hand to stop Blaine's babbling. “Good to know, let's keep it that way for now, but I know how young love goes so don't go telling me it won't happen. As long as you're respectful of each other and respectful of the other people in this house, what happens between the two of you is just that: between the two of you. If you're gonna be living under my roof you're gonna have to follow the rules, just like Kurt and Finn, so rule number one is honesty. We'll discuss the rest tonight.”

“Sir?” Blaine's voice was tiny, but laced with hope and a little bit of fear, like he was afraid to believe what he'd just heard. It broke Burt's heart to think of why he sounded like that.

“It's Burt, kid,” he said gruffly, but with a smile. “Go on, now. I know you're tired and tomorrow is gonna be a long day. The office upstairs is still full of boxes that never got unpacked and we might have to hit up a couple of thrift stores to find you a bed and a dresser, but it should work alright for a bedroom. You'll have to talk Kurt into sharing his closet, seeing as your room doesn't have one and that's one battle you get to wage on your own.”

Blaine's eyes were wide with shock. His mouth opened and closed without sound and Burt just smiled, clapped him on the shoulder and walked out of the kitchen.

Burt's smile stayed in place as he drove to the shop, thinking about the 1992 Ford Escort that had been brought in three weeks before. The owner had been strapped for cash and had offered to sell it for five hundred bucks. Burt hadn't really needed the car, but the guy was friend of one of his workers and was in a bind, so he'd bought the car. Turns out it only needed a little work, but he still hadn't gotten around to fixing it.

Well, he thought to himself, Blaine wants a job and when the car is done it can be his. It's probably not what he's used to but it'll work fine until he leaves for college.

The smile faltered for a minute at the thought of putting another kid through college, but only for an instant. They'd figure it out, just like they'd figured out how to put Kurt in that fancy school when it came down to it. That's what families do.

Blaine was a part of their family now. It wasn't something he'd thought would happen so soon or in quite this manner, but he'd known for a while now that the boy would be around for a long time.

What Blaine and Kurt had went beyond a silly high school romance, he knew that. Kurt looked at that boy the same way Burt had looked at Kurt's mother all those years ago.
They were young and in love and as long as they remembered to be good to each other, Burt could see a bright future for them.

His smile widened at the thought of Kurt and Blaine coming home for Christmas years down the road, singing carols with Finn and whatever girl he was with at the time, baking cookies with Carole. And maybe later on, bringing a little girl or boy with them who'd sit on his knee and call him pawpaw.

Burt shook his head, clearing the visions from his mind. Kurt might get his looks and his voice from his mother, but he got his imagination from Burt.

Right now, he needed to get his head in his work. If he wanted to have time to train Blaine tomorrow, he'd need to work ahead today.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, still smiling. It was a message from Kurt.

Love you Dad

Burt's smile stretched across his face as he walked into the garage. It was gonna be a good day.