Burt’s just settled down in front of the tv with a newspaper and can of beer when Blaine rushes down the stairs and grabs his coat off the hook by the door.

“You going somewhere, kiddo? I thought you only just got here.” Burt twists in his seat, hand poised over the snap on the beer can.

Blaine jumps and looks over at him, mouth twisted in a grimace and eyebrows drawn together. “I, yeah, um… I need to go- my mum just called.” He wrestles with his coat and he pulls it back on and Burt nods slowly.

“Okay well, drive safe, Blaine.” He frowns when Blaine sniff miserably and puts his beer down on the coffee table just as Kurt hurries down the stairs, too. Blaine sort of blanches and looks away, jerking away from Kurt’s outstretched arm. It’s then that Burt knows something’s wrong.

“You boys alright?” He asks, carefully. Kurt doesn’t reply and Blaine looks on the verge of tears. “Kurt?” His son glances at him, lips thin and eyes wide as Blaine opens the front door, letting a gust of cold wind through.

“Blaine please.” Kurt sounds miserable, resigned even and Burt still has no idea what’s going on. “I said I was sorry!” Burt moves to stand up at that. “You don’t- you don’t have to leave.”

Blaine’s voice is quiet when he replies. “I know. But Kurt… I just need some time to think, okay? And I can’t stay here knowing you’re so unhappy.” He bites his lip briefly, leans forward to press a kiss to Kurt’s cheek and leaves, letting the door click shut behind him.

Neither of the Hummels move, even as the sound of Blaine’s car fades into the distance. The minutes stretch by until Kurt raises a shaking fist to his mouth, then turns around and bolts up the stairs. Burt races after him, even as Kurt slams his door shut behind him.

“Kurt? What’s wrong, buddy?” Kurt doesn’t answer him, but Burt can hear him crying even through the wood of his door. He knocks gently. “Kurt?”

Kurt’s reply comes a few moments later, muffled and hitching every few words. “M’fine, dad. It’s my fault. Don’t- don’t be angry at Blaine.” He lets his head thunk back against the door and takes a shaky breath.

“I’m not gonna be mad at anyone, Kurt.” Burt reassures him. “What happened? I’ve never seen either of you so upset.” To his horror, Kurt dissolves into tears again and it takes a long time before he’s calm enough to reply.

“I messed up, dad. And- oh god the things I said.” Kurt’s despair is evident, in his voice and the heaving breaths he takes every so often.

“Is there anything I can do?” Burt presses, anxious to do something, anything to help.

“No, thanks dad. I just need to be alone and try to figure out what I need to do.” Burt nods, then remembers Kurt can’t see him through the door.

“Alright, kid. You know where I am if you do need me.” He says solemnly and Kurt giggles.
Burt heads reluctantly back downstairs and resumes his seat, absently cracking open the can of beer and taking a long drink.

He doesn’t find out what happened until the next day, when, in Kurt’s stickered bedroom, his son admits that he and Blaine are having problems, but brushes it off like water off a duck’s back. It’s enough to make Burt concerned, but Kurt seems too preoccupied with his impending audition and so Burt puts it to the back of his mind.

Then Blaine comes home with Kurt Friday night and they’re back to their usual selves. If maybe a little more intimate. Kurt always seems to keep and hand on Blaine’s back or arm, and Blaine looks at Kurt with such love in his eyes that Burt had to excuse himself at one point when he got a little misty-eyed. Finn jokes with Blaine at the dinner table, (god is Burt glad they reconciled) and Kurt just watches him with a smile on his face that reminds Burt so much of Elizabeth.

They retreat upstairs to Kurt’s room after dinner, Kurt rolling his eyes as usual at Burt’s reminder to ‘keep the door open’. He doesn’t hear a peep out of them for the rest of the evening; only the low hum of the tv in Kurt’s room and the occasional burst of quiet laughter.

Burt just loops an arm around Carole’s shoulder and flicks over to the sport highlights, content that everything is alright in his house again.