To say that Tracey Anderson-Hummel was dramatic would be an understatement; his parents were Kurt and Blaine, for God's sake. The boy was bound to get some kind of flair for theatrics from one of his dads, but neither of them expected the amount of absolute terror their son's tantrums could invoke.

They'd thought he'd grown out of it by the time he turned seven, but the boy was a freshman in highschool now and his moodiness was at an all time high.

“Tray, I know how much you like spending time with your friends,” Kurt sighed into his cell phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do. But your grades are slipping and your room is a mess. No movie tonight, okay? Come home.”

“Fine!” Tracey groaned before the line went dead. Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Is he being a teenager again?” Blaine piped up from across the kitchen table. Kurt had nearly forgotten his husband's presence, too focused on figuring out what was wrong with their son to notice that Blaine looked as concerned and exasperated as he felt.

“Unfortunately,” Kurt pursed his lips. “I don't remember being nearly this- this petulant when I was his age. I don't know where he's learning how to act this way.”

Blaine gave him a sympathetic look before coming around to massage Kurt's shoulders briefly.

“I'm sure it's a phase, my love,” he said. “In the meantime, what are we doing for dinner? Hepburn is at her friend's birthday party, so we don't have to worry about her diet restrictions.”

“Hmm,” Kurt leaned into the touch, “I'm thinking Chinese.”

“I'll go call in the order. The usual?”

Kurt hummed the affirmative at the same time his phone beeped with a text.

Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude, I just have a lot on my mind. Can I talk with you and Dad when I get home? -T

“Hey,” Kurt called out, “something's up with Tracey.”

“…yeah, I know,” Blaine came back into his line of sight and looked at him quizzically. “You mean aside from his snarkiness?”

“Yeah,” he held his phone out and watched as Blaine's expression morphed into one of concern.

“I guess we'll find out when he gets home,” Blaine furrowed his brow.

“Yeah.”

40 minutes later their food was on the table and Tracey was nowhere to be found.

“That's it, I'm calling him,” Kurt grabbed his phone and aggressively typed his pass code before scrolling through his contacts. He was so focused on calling his son that he missed the sound of a key turning.

“Wait-” Blaine hurried into the front room. “He's here.”

“Tracey!” Kurt snapped, frustrated with his son's inability to listen and follow instructions. “You'd better have a damn good expla-”

“Kurt, come here,” Blaine interrupted. Something in his voice shut Kurt up immediately and he hurried to find out what was going on.

“I'm sorry,” Tracey whispered. He had tears streaming down his face and Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, instantly searching his son's face and body for injuries. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-”

He broke down in Blaine's arms, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. Kurt hurried forward to help comfort his son, the earlier argument forgotten in favor of Tracey's anguished state.

“Hush, baby boy,” Kurt combed his fingers through his son's hair in an attempt at soothing him, but Tracey only cried harder.

“I'm not, I'm not,” he sobbed. “I'm sorry.”

Blaine's stopped the soft humming he'd started up and held Tracey tighter.

“ Why are you sorry, sweetheart? We're not mad at you, I promise. Just talk to us.”

Tracey nodded and moved to stand, still sniffling and shaking. Kurt and Blaine reached for him at the same time, both anxious to help their son in any way they could.

Once Tracey was seated on the couch, it was like the floodgates opened up.

“I'm really sorry about how I've been acting,” he started. “I really am, I know I've been kind of a di- a jerk recently. But I'm ready to talk about it now, I'm tired of living this- this lie. I'm so tired dad, and I'm sorry but this is who I am.”

“Honey, we love you no matter what,” Blaine told him, still confused. “I promise that will never change.”

“I think I- no, sorry, I know that I'm trans. Or at the very least I'm genderfluid,” Tracey sniffled, avoiding eye contact. Kurt looked to Blaine for help but neither knew what to say without somehow offending their child.

“Can you explain a bit better?” Blaine asked softly, reaching out to place his hand on Tracey's shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,” he (they? Kurt wondered and tried to remind himself to start making the switch) sniffled. “Um. I don't feel like my body matches who I am inside. I'm more comfortable in feminine things like- uh- like pretty shirts and dresses. I've let Hep do my makeup before and I- I liked it. I liked the way it looked, I liked feeling girly like that.”

“That's okay,” Kurt piped up. “Fashion has no gender, I've been saying that since long before you were born.”

“That's the thing though,” Tracey wiped away a stray tear. “I'm pretty sure I don't have a gender either.”

“Oh,” Kurt blinked. He knew he'd said the wrong thing as soon as it was out of his mouth because Tracey's face crumpled.

“I'm sorry,I don't want to- to-” Tracey took a deep breath to stabilize themself, “I don't want to be a freak.”

“Baby, no no,” Kurt's heart squeezed painfully in his chest, “ you're not a freak, please don't ever think that about yourself. you are still my child and I still love you.”

“What can we do to make you more comfortable?” Blaine asked. Tracey sighed with relief at the apparent acceptance they were receiving.

“Um. Maybe don't call me your son or ‘baby boy'?”

“I can do that,” Kurt told them.

“And pronouns- I, uh, I like they/them, but he and him are usually okay too,” Tracey looked at their fingers. “I'll let you know if there's any change.”

“Whatever is best for you,” Blaine assured him.

“Oh!” Tracey blushed. “On my more feminine days will you call me Tay instead of Tray? I like my name but um, some days the nickname just rubs me the wrong way.”

“Of course,” Kurt and Blaine said together.

“Like your dad said, whatever you feel would be best for you is beyond okay with us,” Kurt continued. He had to admit that he was relieved, he had been concerned that Tracey had either gotten someone pregnant or was getting into drugs. Having a child without a gender wasn't a problem at all, no matter what Tracey seemed to think.

“What do you want to do about Hep?” Blaine wondered aloud. “She's only eleven, would she understand?”

“Oh yeah, she knows,” Tracey blinked as though they hadn't realized their parents wouldn't pick up on that. “I told her several months ago.”

Kurt glanced at Blaine and raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not sure if we should be amazed that she and Tracey have such a strong bond or concerned about her secret keeping abilities,” Blaine mused, “but that's an issue for another day.”

“The point,” Kurt shot his husband a look, “is that we want you to be comfortable in your own home- and preferably everywhere else as well. You're our child and nothing will ever change that, whether you have a gender or not. Our love for you is unconditional.”

Tracey's eyes filled with tears again and they leaned forward to pull both of their dads into a tight hug.

“I love you guys so much.”

Yeah, Tracey Anderson-Hummel was definitely their kid.