Glee Fic: Heroes Come in All Forms 1/1
Heroes Come in All Forms
McRaider
Summary: He’d spent all his life seeing the same person as a hero. While others loved muscians, artists or atheletes, Kurt Hummel saw a man in a grease covered jumper who smelled of car oil, carbarators, and the laundry detergent his mother had used.
Author’s Note: This is a “five times” story. But in this case it’s really only acknowledging that all of these times have occurred.Also I'm featuring on short pieces right now, mostly because I'm trying to work on a larger piece that isn't really going as awesome as I'd like it to.
Rated: G
Disclaimed: If owened them, there would be a helluva lot more Burt and Kurt Hummel, in fact I think I’d start calling it “The Hummel Show”
“It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons.”
~Johann Schiller
“Okay class, tonight for your homework, I want you all to go home and think about what a hero is, remember we read about that in class yesterday and today, and I want you to write about your hero in your life. I then want you to keep that paper and we’ll read a couple of the best for the parents tomorrow at the parent teacher conference.” Ms. Toole was an older woman, but she smiled as the kids hurried put their back packs on. She smiled as the door opened and the bell rang, the kids hurrying out of the rooms.
She smiled and waved to Mr. Hummel who was standing at the end of the hallway, baseball cap in its usual place. He glanced down as his son ran towards him. “Daddy!” The boy threw himself into Burt’s arms. She smiled sadly, it seemed like ages since Kurt’s mother had passed away, two weeks had gone by and both appeared to be doing the best that they could with what the world had thrown them.
“Hey big guy,” Burt lifted his son into his arms, hugging him close, “Ready to go?”
“Yeah!” The boy laid his head against his father’s shoulder.
“What did you do today?” Burt asked as he carried his son out. Ever since his wife had gotten ill, he’d started to pick his son up regularly after school. Maybe it was his way of connecting with a child he would inevitably have to raise on his own, but once his wife had actually passed, Burt continued to pick his son up, unwilling to give up that connection he’d created.
“We have to write about our hero daddy.”
“Really, who is your hero son?”
The boy shrugged, “I don’t know yet.”
Burt chuckled and kissed his son’s cheek. “All right kiddo, I’ve got to swing by the garage and finish up some paperwork, do you mind hanging out with me in the office?”
“Can I borrow some paper to write my paper?”
“Of course!”
It was nearly an hour later when Kurt sat across the desk from his father, studying the man who was so deeply in thought. He smiled as he began to write. A big grin on his face he focused on the task ahead. It was nearly twenty minutes later when Burt glanced up to see his son erasing every once in awhile, but finishing up on what looked like his assignment. “Hey kid, you ready to go home?”
“Yes.” Quickly stuffing his paper in his Polly Pocket backpack, he reached his arms out to his father, letting the man pull him into his arms.
It was the next evening, Kurt in his best tight pants, scarf and a nice dress coat, as he watched the teacher from his desk. Ms. Toole spoke to the teachers crowded around the room. “I asked the students last evening to write a one page essay about what a hero was and who their hero was. All of them did an excellent job, but as promised the class chose two that we found truly exceptional. The first one, Mr. Kurt Hummel.”
Burt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His little boy stood, brushing out the wrinkles despite the giggles from his classmates and even some teachers and he walked to the front of the classroom. He glanced around the room, smiling hesitantly before he started to read.
“My teacher told me that heroes come in all shapes and sizes, some are found in movies, some wear uniforms, tootoos, some sing and dance and some even carry guns or fightfires. For me my hero doesn’t do any of those. My hero wears an off blue jumpsuit that’s stained with oil and grease. He smells of cars, engine grease and the laundry detergent my mother used. To some he may not be that special, he’s never traveled the world, never really left Ohio, but he’s strong, tall and special to me.” Burt realized his son was talking about him a few moments ago and now all he could do was listen, his heart growing larger for the child who was so very different but so very lovable. “My hero can lift me high above his head with just one arm, he wakes me up every morning with a big smile and when he tucks me in he always reminds me how much he loves me…and how much my mommy loves me,” Kurt stopped for a minute, biting his lip to hold back an unexpected onslaught of tears. “He loves me all the time no matter what, for me…my hero is my daddy. Not because he’s a firemen, or a cop, not because he sings or dances, not cause he’s in a movie or plays sports…but because he takes care of me, holds my hand and reminds me that I’m special to him. He’s my hero cause he’s just my daddy.”
Most of the room had damp eyes by this time, and Kurt looked up at his father to see the older man wiping at his eyes. “Daddy?” He asked softly. “You’re crying.”
The room chuckled, but Burt nodded as he stepped forward and lifted his son into his arms, kissing his cheek. “That was a very good son,” He whispered.
Burt honestly didn’t remember who read the other essay or who it was about. All he remembered is everyone looking at him like he had the best child in the world, and even Burt couldn’t help but think that he had the best son in the entire universe.
o0o
When Kurt turned tweleve he started middle school. Most of the time he was inclined to think the projects the teachers created for them was stupid. But this one was different. His biology teacher instructed everyone to make a list of everything they’d phsyically inherited from their parents, then to write a paper on what they inherited that wasn’t phsyical.
Kurt ran home immediately and he pulled out an old photo album, they didn’t look at it anymore, as if it would cause some unwanted pain. But as Kurt flipped through the pages he remembered dancing with his mother to music, he remembered riding on his dad’s shoulders. He grinned as he looked at a baby picture of himself, his mother and his father and he quickly began to jot everything down he could that he noticed.
Burt entered the house three hours later to find his son fast asleep on the floor in their bedroom. His eye brows forrowed in concern as he sat his son lying in front of a photo album turned to one of his baby pictures. At first, Burt felt his eyes water at the thought of his little boy going through pain by himself, then he noticed a notebook by his side.
He picked it up, not yet waking his son and took a seat on the bed as he read the homework prompt then began to read his son’s answers.
Mom:
I have her dark brown hair
Pale skin
Cheek bones
Oval Face
Her hands
her smile
her voice
her height
her sense of fashion
Burt chuckled at the last one, thinking that wasn’t really an option, but he continued. Reading
My dad tells me everyday I look more and more like my mother. Sometimes it makes me sad because I think he doesn’t want to see himself in me. But thinking about it, all of my non-phyiscal traits are my fathers…with a couple exceptions. I have my mother’s sharp tongue, and my dad says I have her ability to love endlessly. But that’s not completely true. When I was six I came home one day and threw a temper tantrum-I don’t recall over what. But my mother told me at that moment I had my dad’s temper. Like my father I am sometimes quick to anger and jealous…but I’m also quick to forgive. I love easily and quickly just like my father. I have his love for cars, but perhaps the most important thing I have that definitly came from my father is his unconditional love. My dad isn’t perfect, and neither am I, but he holds me when I cry and I hold his hand if he does too. I help him cook, I watch after him because my mom isn’t here to do it and I know she’d want him to be okay. I love my mom but when I grow up I want to be just like my dad. Uniquely different, but like him. My dad is nice and gentle he gives the best hugs, all in all…he’s my dad and that makes him the best dad in the world.
Burt smiled sadly as he looked down at his son, then back at the photo album. “I think you’re the best son in the world,” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead.
o0o
Mr. Schuster stood at the front of the glass grinning at the kids, “We’ve decided, as father’s day is coming up, we’re going to go ahead and finish off the year with a tribute to the fathers. I know it sounds silly, but seeing as we did the same thing for the mothers in May, this only seems fair.”
A couple of the students glanced around at one another; Finn looked at Kurt who was giving a sly smile, as if he already had an idea. “So what I want you to do this week is each of you pick a song about a father figure in your life, then we’ll pick one or two and we’ll sing it.”
Shortly there after they headed home, Kurt was quiet for the first few minutes before he glanced over at Finn, Finn would be his step brother by the end of the summer and despite their initital misconceptions both boys were now thrilled.
“So…want to do a Mash Up?”
Finn glanced over at the younger teenager and smiled, “I like the way you think Kurt. I know what song I want…it’s a little off age wise, but I definitly know the one I’d like to do.”
Kurt nodded, “Country?”
“He Didn’t have to Be by Brad Paisley.”
“Good song,” Kurt smiled nodding, “Give me a day or two to figure it out.”
“Definitely man, are we telling him.”
Kurt shook his head, “Maybe Carole, but definitely not dad, I want to surprise him.”
As soon as the boys got home they told Carole everything, as she stood in the kitchen cooking. She smiled and shook her head. “You two certainly are getting along better these days.”
Finn looked over at his brother, “He’s my brother,” He grinned hugging Kurt close for a minute.
“Hmm,” She hummed lightly smirking, “Anyway why don’t you two set the table and start your homework, I promise not to tell your father a word of this.”
The two disappeared downstairs in a hurry, talking about various ideas they had. Carole shook her head and smiled, at least they were getting along, that’s all she wanted was her little boy and Burt’s boy to be happy.
It took some coaxing on Carole’s part to convince Burt that evening that he had to attend the end of year concert. It was still two weeks before Father’s day, but Will decided the favor needed to be returned. They took a seat beside Dr and Mrs. Jones, Mercede’s parents, which Burt immediately sat down and quietly chatted with Dr. Jones, who he’d known since high school.
Several minutes went by as teachers, students, and parents filed into the auditorium. The lights went low; the loud mummering became a non-exsistant whisper, then hushed as two spot lights were lit on the stage. Finn sat on a stool at one end of the stage, holding a guitar and strumming lightly.
Opening his mouth he began to sing softly, his voice echoing through the mircophone. “When a single mom goes out on a date with somebody new
It always winds up feeling more like a job interview
My momma used to wonder if she'd ever meet someone
Who wouldn't find out about me and then turn around and run
I met the man I call my dad when I was five years old
He took my mom out to a movie and for once I got to go
A few months later I remember lying there in bed
I overheard him pop the question and prayed that she'd say yes
And then all of a sudden
Oh, it seemed so strange to me
How we went from something's missing
To a family
Lookin' back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be
His strumming suddenly changed, and a moment later Kurt stepped out, dressed in his usual fashionable clothes and he sang, his own song much higher. Raising the mircophone to his lips he began to sing, his eyes watering and a smile on his face.
“I remember Daddy's hands
Folded silently in prayer
And reaching out to hold me
When I had a nightmare
You could read quite a story
In the callouses and lines
Years of work and worry
Had left their mark behind
I remember Daddy's hands
How they held my Mama tight
And patted my back
For something done right
There are things I've forgotten
That I loved about the man
But I'll always remember
The love in Daddy's hands
Daddy's hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin'
Daddy's hands
Were hard as steel when I'd done wrong
Daddy's hands
Weren't always gentle but I'd come to understand
There was always love in Daddy's hands
At some point Finn had started singing again “I met the girl that's now my wife about three years ago
We had the perfect marriage but we wanted somethin' more
Now here I stand surrounded by our family and friends
Crowded 'round the nursery window as they bring the baby in
Finn stood up, putting the guitar down, moving towards his soon to be brother, microphone in hand and the two finished slowly, as the curtain behind them started to rise. “Lookin' back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be
Yeah, I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be
Because he didn't have to be
You know he didn't have to be”
Burt was vaguely aware that the kids were now dancing on the stage and singing some eighties show tune, but all he could think was that his two boys had sung to him. He felt Carole slip her hand into his, holding it tight, clearly she could see how deeply it had touched him as well.
When the concert was over and everyone had sung, Carole and Burt stood out in the hallway waiting for their boys. He spotted his boys long before Carole, mostly due to his height, and he didn’t hesitate, not caring what others said or thought, he grabbed both of them into a hug. Both Kurt and Finn clung to the man they called father, as he held them close. “I love you,” He whispered to both boys.
Finn glanced past all the heads of activity to his mother who was crying in the corner softly at the sight of her boys. “Love you too, dad,” Finn whispered.
“Love you too,” Kurt murmured in his father’s ear as well.
The End
McRaider
Summary: He’d spent all his life seeing the same person as a hero. While others loved muscians, artists or atheletes, Kurt Hummel saw a man in a grease covered jumper who smelled of car oil, carbarators, and the laundry detergent his mother had used.
Author’s Note: This is a “five times” story. But in this case it’s really only acknowledging that all of these times have occurred.Also I'm featuring on short pieces right now, mostly because I'm trying to work on a larger piece that isn't really going as awesome as I'd like it to.
Rated: G
Disclaimed: If owened them, there would be a helluva lot more Burt and Kurt Hummel, in fact I think I’d start calling it “The Hummel Show”
“It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons.”
~Johann Schiller
“Okay class, tonight for your homework, I want you all to go home and think about what a hero is, remember we read about that in class yesterday and today, and I want you to write about your hero in your life. I then want you to keep that paper and we’ll read a couple of the best for the parents tomorrow at the parent teacher conference.” Ms. Toole was an older woman, but she smiled as the kids hurried put their back packs on. She smiled as the door opened and the bell rang, the kids hurrying out of the rooms.
She smiled and waved to Mr. Hummel who was standing at the end of the hallway, baseball cap in its usual place. He glanced down as his son ran towards him. “Daddy!” The boy threw himself into Burt’s arms. She smiled sadly, it seemed like ages since Kurt’s mother had passed away, two weeks had gone by and both appeared to be doing the best that they could with what the world had thrown them.
“Hey big guy,” Burt lifted his son into his arms, hugging him close, “Ready to go?”
“Yeah!” The boy laid his head against his father’s shoulder.
“What did you do today?” Burt asked as he carried his son out. Ever since his wife had gotten ill, he’d started to pick his son up regularly after school. Maybe it was his way of connecting with a child he would inevitably have to raise on his own, but once his wife had actually passed, Burt continued to pick his son up, unwilling to give up that connection he’d created.
“We have to write about our hero daddy.”
“Really, who is your hero son?”
The boy shrugged, “I don’t know yet.”
Burt chuckled and kissed his son’s cheek. “All right kiddo, I’ve got to swing by the garage and finish up some paperwork, do you mind hanging out with me in the office?”
“Can I borrow some paper to write my paper?”
“Of course!”
It was nearly an hour later when Kurt sat across the desk from his father, studying the man who was so deeply in thought. He smiled as he began to write. A big grin on his face he focused on the task ahead. It was nearly twenty minutes later when Burt glanced up to see his son erasing every once in awhile, but finishing up on what looked like his assignment. “Hey kid, you ready to go home?”
“Yes.” Quickly stuffing his paper in his Polly Pocket backpack, he reached his arms out to his father, letting the man pull him into his arms.
It was the next evening, Kurt in his best tight pants, scarf and a nice dress coat, as he watched the teacher from his desk. Ms. Toole spoke to the teachers crowded around the room. “I asked the students last evening to write a one page essay about what a hero was and who their hero was. All of them did an excellent job, but as promised the class chose two that we found truly exceptional. The first one, Mr. Kurt Hummel.”
Burt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His little boy stood, brushing out the wrinkles despite the giggles from his classmates and even some teachers and he walked to the front of the classroom. He glanced around the room, smiling hesitantly before he started to read.
“My teacher told me that heroes come in all shapes and sizes, some are found in movies, some wear uniforms, tootoos, some sing and dance and some even carry guns or fightfires. For me my hero doesn’t do any of those. My hero wears an off blue jumpsuit that’s stained with oil and grease. He smells of cars, engine grease and the laundry detergent my mother used. To some he may not be that special, he’s never traveled the world, never really left Ohio, but he’s strong, tall and special to me.” Burt realized his son was talking about him a few moments ago and now all he could do was listen, his heart growing larger for the child who was so very different but so very lovable. “My hero can lift me high above his head with just one arm, he wakes me up every morning with a big smile and when he tucks me in he always reminds me how much he loves me…and how much my mommy loves me,” Kurt stopped for a minute, biting his lip to hold back an unexpected onslaught of tears. “He loves me all the time no matter what, for me…my hero is my daddy. Not because he’s a firemen, or a cop, not because he sings or dances, not cause he’s in a movie or plays sports…but because he takes care of me, holds my hand and reminds me that I’m special to him. He’s my hero cause he’s just my daddy.”
Most of the room had damp eyes by this time, and Kurt looked up at his father to see the older man wiping at his eyes. “Daddy?” He asked softly. “You’re crying.”
The room chuckled, but Burt nodded as he stepped forward and lifted his son into his arms, kissing his cheek. “That was a very good son,” He whispered.
Burt honestly didn’t remember who read the other essay or who it was about. All he remembered is everyone looking at him like he had the best child in the world, and even Burt couldn’t help but think that he had the best son in the entire universe.
o0o
When Kurt turned tweleve he started middle school. Most of the time he was inclined to think the projects the teachers created for them was stupid. But this one was different. His biology teacher instructed everyone to make a list of everything they’d phsyically inherited from their parents, then to write a paper on what they inherited that wasn’t phsyical.
Kurt ran home immediately and he pulled out an old photo album, they didn’t look at it anymore, as if it would cause some unwanted pain. But as Kurt flipped through the pages he remembered dancing with his mother to music, he remembered riding on his dad’s shoulders. He grinned as he looked at a baby picture of himself, his mother and his father and he quickly began to jot everything down he could that he noticed.
Burt entered the house three hours later to find his son fast asleep on the floor in their bedroom. His eye brows forrowed in concern as he sat his son lying in front of a photo album turned to one of his baby pictures. At first, Burt felt his eyes water at the thought of his little boy going through pain by himself, then he noticed a notebook by his side.
He picked it up, not yet waking his son and took a seat on the bed as he read the homework prompt then began to read his son’s answers.
Mom:
I have her dark brown hair
Pale skin
Cheek bones
Oval Face
Her hands
her smile
her voice
her height
her sense of fashion
Burt chuckled at the last one, thinking that wasn’t really an option, but he continued. Reading
My dad tells me everyday I look more and more like my mother. Sometimes it makes me sad because I think he doesn’t want to see himself in me. But thinking about it, all of my non-phyiscal traits are my fathers…with a couple exceptions. I have my mother’s sharp tongue, and my dad says I have her ability to love endlessly. But that’s not completely true. When I was six I came home one day and threw a temper tantrum-I don’t recall over what. But my mother told me at that moment I had my dad’s temper. Like my father I am sometimes quick to anger and jealous…but I’m also quick to forgive. I love easily and quickly just like my father. I have his love for cars, but perhaps the most important thing I have that definitly came from my father is his unconditional love. My dad isn’t perfect, and neither am I, but he holds me when I cry and I hold his hand if he does too. I help him cook, I watch after him because my mom isn’t here to do it and I know she’d want him to be okay. I love my mom but when I grow up I want to be just like my dad. Uniquely different, but like him. My dad is nice and gentle he gives the best hugs, all in all…he’s my dad and that makes him the best dad in the world.
Burt smiled sadly as he looked down at his son, then back at the photo album. “I think you’re the best son in the world,” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead.
o0o
Mr. Schuster stood at the front of the glass grinning at the kids, “We’ve decided, as father’s day is coming up, we’re going to go ahead and finish off the year with a tribute to the fathers. I know it sounds silly, but seeing as we did the same thing for the mothers in May, this only seems fair.”
A couple of the students glanced around at one another; Finn looked at Kurt who was giving a sly smile, as if he already had an idea. “So what I want you to do this week is each of you pick a song about a father figure in your life, then we’ll pick one or two and we’ll sing it.”
Shortly there after they headed home, Kurt was quiet for the first few minutes before he glanced over at Finn, Finn would be his step brother by the end of the summer and despite their initital misconceptions both boys were now thrilled.
“So…want to do a Mash Up?”
Finn glanced over at the younger teenager and smiled, “I like the way you think Kurt. I know what song I want…it’s a little off age wise, but I definitly know the one I’d like to do.”
Kurt nodded, “Country?”
“He Didn’t have to Be by Brad Paisley.”
“Good song,” Kurt smiled nodding, “Give me a day or two to figure it out.”
“Definitely man, are we telling him.”
Kurt shook his head, “Maybe Carole, but definitely not dad, I want to surprise him.”
As soon as the boys got home they told Carole everything, as she stood in the kitchen cooking. She smiled and shook her head. “You two certainly are getting along better these days.”
Finn looked over at his brother, “He’s my brother,” He grinned hugging Kurt close for a minute.
“Hmm,” She hummed lightly smirking, “Anyway why don’t you two set the table and start your homework, I promise not to tell your father a word of this.”
The two disappeared downstairs in a hurry, talking about various ideas they had. Carole shook her head and smiled, at least they were getting along, that’s all she wanted was her little boy and Burt’s boy to be happy.
It took some coaxing on Carole’s part to convince Burt that evening that he had to attend the end of year concert. It was still two weeks before Father’s day, but Will decided the favor needed to be returned. They took a seat beside Dr and Mrs. Jones, Mercede’s parents, which Burt immediately sat down and quietly chatted with Dr. Jones, who he’d known since high school.
Several minutes went by as teachers, students, and parents filed into the auditorium. The lights went low; the loud mummering became a non-exsistant whisper, then hushed as two spot lights were lit on the stage. Finn sat on a stool at one end of the stage, holding a guitar and strumming lightly.
Opening his mouth he began to sing softly, his voice echoing through the mircophone. “When a single mom goes out on a date with somebody new
It always winds up feeling more like a job interview
My momma used to wonder if she'd ever meet someone
Who wouldn't find out about me and then turn around and run
I met the man I call my dad when I was five years old
He took my mom out to a movie and for once I got to go
A few months later I remember lying there in bed
I overheard him pop the question and prayed that she'd say yes
And then all of a sudden
Oh, it seemed so strange to me
How we went from something's missing
To a family
Lookin' back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be
His strumming suddenly changed, and a moment later Kurt stepped out, dressed in his usual fashionable clothes and he sang, his own song much higher. Raising the mircophone to his lips he began to sing, his eyes watering and a smile on his face.
“I remember Daddy's hands
Folded silently in prayer
And reaching out to hold me
When I had a nightmare
You could read quite a story
In the callouses and lines
Years of work and worry
Had left their mark behind
I remember Daddy's hands
How they held my Mama tight
And patted my back
For something done right
There are things I've forgotten
That I loved about the man
But I'll always remember
The love in Daddy's hands
Daddy's hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin'
Daddy's hands
Were hard as steel when I'd done wrong
Daddy's hands
Weren't always gentle but I'd come to understand
There was always love in Daddy's hands
At some point Finn had started singing again “I met the girl that's now my wife about three years ago
We had the perfect marriage but we wanted somethin' more
Now here I stand surrounded by our family and friends
Crowded 'round the nursery window as they bring the baby in
Finn stood up, putting the guitar down, moving towards his soon to be brother, microphone in hand and the two finished slowly, as the curtain behind them started to rise. “Lookin' back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be
Yeah, I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be
Because he didn't have to be
You know he didn't have to be”
Burt was vaguely aware that the kids were now dancing on the stage and singing some eighties show tune, but all he could think was that his two boys had sung to him. He felt Carole slip her hand into his, holding it tight, clearly she could see how deeply it had touched him as well.
When the concert was over and everyone had sung, Carole and Burt stood out in the hallway waiting for their boys. He spotted his boys long before Carole, mostly due to his height, and he didn’t hesitate, not caring what others said or thought, he grabbed both of them into a hug. Both Kurt and Finn clung to the man they called father, as he held them close. “I love you,” He whispered to both boys.
Finn glanced past all the heads of activity to his mother who was crying in the corner softly at the sight of her boys. “Love you too, dad,” Finn whispered.
“Love you too,” Kurt murmured in his father’s ear as well.
The End