Fic -- Friday Night Dinner 1/1
Title: Friday Night Dinner
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: ...none?
Pairings: none
Warnings: family angst
Word Count: 1,241
Summary: written for THIS angst meme prompt.
A/N: ...I suppose I could warn for a very unoriginal and horrible title, too :P This is very quick fill, but I hope the OP enjoys! :)
~
“What the hell is this?”
Kurt looks up from his task of cutting carrots into small slices and looks over at Finn; the boy is sitting at the kitchen table across from his dad and holding a bright red object between his fingers. His facial expression almost suggests that he thinks it could bite him. Rolling his eyes and going back to his cutting, Kurt says, “It’s an oca, Finn.”
There is silence from his stepbrother for several seconds, and Kurt smiles a little to himself and starts a joking mental countdown. He nearly lets out a giggle as he reaches ‘zero’ just as Finn speaks up again.
“What’s an oakra?”
“It’s ‘oca’, Finn. And it’s like a potato,” Kurt says, using the blade of his knife to sweep up the slices of carrot, which he places on the top rack of the steamer. He meets Carole’s eyes as he reaches for the head of cabbage to his left and they share a little smile.
“Oh.”
Finn still sounds a little confused, but Kurt hears him go back to cutting the oca in half. Turning to see how Finn and his dad are progressing at the table, Kurt sees his dad bring one of the small, bright tubers up to his face, examining the vegetable with one raised brow.
Carole lets out a little snort of amusement from beside him and Kurt turns to her and shakes his head, mouthing ‘oh my God’ under his breath as he does so.
Carole and Kurt have come to a sort of sympatric union in the kitchen, allowing them to work in the same area and on the same meals without getting in one another’s’ way. It helps to save time, and while they sometimes end up with some confusion, it has allowed them to spend plenty of time together.
Kurt doesn’t even want to think about what Friday night dinner, or dinner any day of the week, would be like if he and Carole weren’t the cooks. There is a reason that his dad and Finn are relegated to the table, chopping tubers and throwing them into a bowl.
Bringing the cabbage onto the cutting board, Kurt realizes that the vegetable knife he usually uses is on the other side of the sink beside Carole. He has only barely started reaching for it when Carole picks it up and hands it to him.
“Thanks, mom.”
It takes Kurt a moment to realize why Carole has stopped to stare at him, a hit of a smile on her lips, before he feels his stomach drop through the floor.
He hasn’t spent hours deliberating over it, hasn’t considered asking Carole if she is alright with him calling her ‘mom’, and before ten seconds ago, he never thought he would have. But now that the word, the title, has slipped from between his lips and is lying bare on the floor for his entire family to see, he can’t take it back.
It is like he has opened a flood gate in his mind; there are a hundred different thoughts connecting and drawing a big picture, showing him the little and big ways that he has come to see Carole differently. As a mom. His mom.
But she isn’t. She is Finn’s mom, a woman who, while wonderful, is not the mother that Kurt grew up with, was held and rocked by. She is not the woman who Kurt used to sit with and watch cartoons, who used to let him braid her hair and taught him how to play the piano.
Carole is a mother, he tells himself, but she can’t be his mother. It feels like a lie, telling himself that, but he can’t let his mind see this in any other way - it would be a betrayal, a dishonesty, to his real mother.
“It’s okay honey - I don’t mind if you call me ‘mom’.” Carole smile encouragingly at him while she says it and Kurt feels horrible because he’s suddenly shaking his head back and forth.
“No,” he says. “It’s not.”
The good mood from earlier has been replaced by a pit of swiftly-filling sadness and uncertainty. He can’t believe that he began to think of Carole as a mom without even realizing it, without being able to see what was happening.
He wonders if his mom, his real mom, would hate him, would be disappointed in him, for replacing her so easily.
Deep into his thoughts, Kurt startles when a hand settles on his shoulder. He looks up and sees his dad standing before him, concern and something that Kurt can’t quite distinguish on his face. “Hey buddy, what’s wrong? Carole said it’s okay - you don’t have to worry.”
Kurt realizes that his eyes are starting to get wet on the edges, not quite at tears, but close. Blinking hard to try and remove any moisture, Kurt shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Never mind.”
His dad squeezes his shoulder a little and darts his eyes between him and Carole. “She wouldn’t mind, you know.”
Kurt sniffs, biting his lip. “Yes she would. It’s - she’s my mom. How could I - how could I just replace her like that?” Kurt’s voice has a tinge of anger to it at the end, every morsel directed at himself.
Kurt watches as Carole’s face changes to an expression of sorrow and sympathy, and he has to look away.
“Aw kiddo, you know that isn’t true.” His dad uses one hand to hook a finger up Kurt’s chin, lifting his face so they are eye to eye. “She would be happy for us. For you.”
“No-”
“Yes,” stresses Burt, holding tight to Kurt’s shoulder. “She loved you more than anything, Kurt, and all she wanted was for you to be happy. Just like you and I both know she would have wanted us to have Carole in our lives.”
Kurt nods shakily at his father’s words. They had been over this, a long time ago, had sat down and talked about how loving someone else wouldn’t mean they loved her any less. Sometimes it’s hard for Kurt to reconcile the truthfulness of that conversation with the way he feels in his heart.
“I know,” he whispers finally. “I just,” he starts, glancing over at Carole, who gives him a compassionate smile. “I just don’t want to lose her, what it meant to have her.”
Carole steps forward, standing beside Burt and says, “Honey, you will never lose her - you will always remember your mom.”
Carole’s words are so kind, so understanding, that Kurt smiles a little around the tears that have tracked their way down his face and moves forward to wrap the woman in a hug. He feels his dad give his shoulder one last squeeze before letting go, and Kurt lets himself be comforted by the embrace of the woman he’s come to love so much.
They pull apart and Kurt notices Carole discretely wiping under her eyes as they do, the action mirroring Kurt’s own.
“So,” Finn says from the table where he has stayed sitting. His hands are alternately wringing together and being wiped on his pants in a nervous gesture. “Um - does this mean that I can maybe, you know, call Burt ‘dad’ now?”
Kurt’s lips pull into a bright smile as Finn asks, his dad and Carole also smiling, because he knows that he really won’t have a problem with that.