[fic] For Both Are Infinite
For Both Are Infinite
Glee; Burt, Blaine/Kurt; PG13+; ~3100 words
Burt wonders when he got so perceptive, even though he knows that too; in much the same way that Blaine understands Kurt, Burt does too. It's one of the best and worst side effects of loving his son - Kurt's made him into a better person, and it makes him hate the person he was all the more. Because he used to call kids fag and homo too; and it wasn't Kurt being gay that taught him it was wrong, but the paralysing realisation that he was saying these things about people's sons.
Originally written for rivulet027, as part of gleesummerfun. The whole West Side Story discussion does amuse me given its place in the actual show right now, so there's that, but mostly I just wanted an excuse to write bestfatherintheworld!Burt, and the fabulous prompts I got allowed just that.
It's a funny thing, but Burt knows that he likes Kurt's boyfriend when Blaine doesn't shift several inches away from Kurt the moment he steps into the living room. Because Finn would have been jolted out of his seat by now, jumping to the couch on the other side of the room and swearing that he and Rachel weren't doing anything, not really, and -
Blaine just sits there, smiling, as though he's refusing to act apologetic for loving Kurt.
They're not even doing anything remotely inappropriate, anyway; they're watching some movie Burt's pretty sure they've watched at least four or five times already (and normally, to Burt, that would have been the first sign, but they're both absorbed in some overdramatic crisis or other that can only be resolved by singing). Kurt's head is resting gently on Blaine's chest, and Blaine's got his arm wrapped around Kurt's shoulders, his fingers stroking over Kurt's wrist and knuckles in a way that appears absentminded but Burt can tell definitely isn't. He wonders, not for the first time, if for all Blaine's bluntness about sex, he's as unsure about and as much in desperate need of intimacy as Kurt.
Either way, the smile on his face is too many things at once, pride and caution and happiness and disbelief to be anything other than Kurt's, on the night before Regionals, when he'd come home and said Dad, Ohio might be lacking in haute couture and table manners, if Finn, Puck and the vast majority of Dalton are anything to go by, but it now contains my boyfriend.
Burt had maybe choked on his (admittedly delicious) skinless chicken and forced himself not to say you're dating the kid who basically told me he watches porn last week. Because feelings weren't easy, but he certainly wasn't ready for a dinner time discussion about that, either.
The 'please do not do anything embarrassing tomorrow' had been more than explicit in what Kurt wasn't saying, but Kurt was his son and Burt was too much of a father to avoid giving Blaine a not at all subtle slap on the back before congratulating him on his performance and warning him not to sing about 'panty-snatching' in the vicinity of his son, at least. The gesture was, indeed, more of a way of showing Kurt that the relationship had his full support ("Like he doesn't already know that, given that you're crying," Carole had said, slipping her hand into his. "You just wanted to an excuse to mess with his head.") But, Blaine had just nodded, taken Kurt's hand in his and said that he respected his boyfriend too much to do that in a way that suggested something else entirely. Not smarmy condescension, like Burt had expected from a Dalton boy whose privilege had seemed to extend to a lack of appreciation for boundaries, on several of the other occasions he'd met Blaine, but something like actual admiration for Kurt.
That had been -- an eye-opener, certainly, but not as unexpected as it should have been. Because while the thought of Kurt dating left him bemoaning being a father to Carole and her cheekily replying that she should have bought him a shotgun for his birthday (even if he wouldn't do that to Blaine, ever, if only because he actually likes how close he is with his son, and heknows Blaine would tell Kurt. Besides, if anyone's making grabby motions towards the virtue of one of his sons, he thinks it's most definitely Quinn Fabray or Rachel Berry, or all too often both of them at the same time, depending on the day of the week), he couldn't help but think that anyone whom Kurt would deem appropriate would probably also fall in love with him. Because he knows his son, and Kurt -- has pretty high standards when it comes to, well, everything, really. It's as big a part of the reason that Kurt is trying to convert him to sushi as his heart attack is and also why their house is always filled with music; according to Kurt, there's never an excuse not to practice.
(He kind of half-smiled when he said that, the other day, and Burt remembers a lot of late practices in the few days before Regionals or whatever and tries not to think too hard about what that means, because he's going to be supportive, even if it's simultaneously the easiest thing in the world and really, really difficult. Kurt is any other teenage boy, but he also isn't. He knows what it means when Finn comes home walking funny or with a strange kind of hitch to his breath and it worries him, because that was Burt, once. He doesn't know what it means when Kurt comes home humming a particular Broadway tune that's meant to express his mood and it worries him just as much, because that wasn't Burt, once, and he's not sure how to act. He's not even sure if there is a right way to act, in all honesty, because fatherhood isn't a scripted thing. And Kurt's always been better at acting than him.)
So, Burt also knows that his son wouldn't accept anyone who had less than high standards in return.
But for all Kurt's love of the spotlight, Burt thinks that it's when he steps out of it that he really commands an audience. He doesn't really get the whole singing thing, but right now, Kurt's humming along to whatever and even Burt can tell it's a little out of tune, or whatever the fancy word is, but Blaine's got this doe-eyed expression on his face like he's hearing something other than Kurt's voice. And just the fact that Kurt has actually agreed to cuddle with his boyfriend despite it being ninety-degrees out and that he's not wearing his customary three layers of frankly hideous clothing that he only wears when he's leaving the house or having the girls over for sleepovers and that he's not protesting about the popcorn's saturated fat levels tells Burt a lot more than it should: unlike when he was "dating" that cheerleader, Kurt's not putting on an act.
Okay, so maybe he's been a little generous by letting Blaine eat the popcorn, if his constant eye rolls in its direction are any indication. But Kurt's always been rather concerned about his health. And he hasn't said a thing about his boyfriend lounging around in a Dalton t-shirt and sweatpants, either. Which makes Burt think that this whole boyfriend thing isn't about him actually having a boyfriend or proving a point to Ohio or anything, but about his boyfriend being Blaine. And Burt knows all too well that you can't hate anyone for just being themselves.
Even if that person just so happens to be dating your son.
"You haven't heard from Finn, have you?" he asks eventually, remembering that he had a point beyond subtly reminding his son that there were boundaries, of a sort. Boundaries that neither of them are pushing right now, although their level of comfort with each other gives Burt the nagging suspicion that they are, at other times, elsewhere. He doesn't even want to know if 'spending the night at Mercedes' still actually means 'singing Broadway at three in the morning despite the fact that Mercedes' neighbours once called the police' anymore, or if it's code for something else entirely. "Carole will be home, soon. Dinner's in fifteen minutes and I still haven't seen him."
Burt ignores the fact that he hasn't actually expressly forbidden things happening outside his house, because he's a father and even though he knows it's not his right to tell them they can't he still kind of feels like it's his duty. If only because Kurt wants to be treated the same as everyone else and it's what Burt would tell Finn.
"Finn texted me to tell me he's on his way home from blowing up animated Afghani soldiers with Puck, and Blaine was just about to leave," Kurt replies, pausing the movie and sitting up straight against the arm of the couch. "We were watching West Side Story, and I figured we'd have time to finish the movie, but Blaine got started on his belief that Shakespeare was overtly misogynistic."
Blaine just smiles fondly up at Kurt in response. "He's just mad at my refusal to quote Romeo and Juliet at him. We both hate the play anyway, but there's some clichés I just…" He wrings his hands together, and Burt gets the sense that he's trying to squeeze some semblance of embarrassment out of his skin. "Sorry… I sort of forget that not everyone wants to hear about the trivialities of our relationship all the time. Even Mercedes told me to stop it, the other day, and she's been waxing poetic about Sam for the better part of three weeks, while Kurt's been helping her boyfriend take better care of his skin because of all the pizza grease."
Burt just nods, unsure what he's even meant to say to that. Because he thinks he'd like to know; not too-much but just enough; this is as new to him as it is to Kurt, and even though Carole says that being the parent of a kid who's dating never becomes second nature, Burt's done hard too many times, with Kurt, and he'd kind of like this to be easy.
"Kurt's undoubtedly already told you this, but Dalton makes us do mandatory community service two Saturdays a month -- not that I wouldn't do it even if they didn't force us to, because those kids, they're amazing - and I have to be up early to drive over to the hospital tomorrow. This is our last week before the summer, but if I get the job at Six Flags, I'm thinking about seeing if I can't score tickets for them to come and see me perform for a day, or something." Blaine grins widely up at him, as he gathers up his stuff from the coffee table. "A couple of the Warblers were swapped into my community service group because they lacked the requisite patience to deal with Westerville's disaffected youths, so we'll probably end up singing some songs to cheer them up."
Kurt rolls his eyes. "At least you'll be in the right place when you fall off a table and break your hip," he says, before stretching and standing up. "But seriously, I'll walk you out --"
There's no protest from either of them; it takes Blaine a moment or two to gather his remaining things -- and Burt can't believe that Kurt didn't have enough movies for them to choose from, but he lets it slide because he's lost track of how many video games of Puck's he's found lying around, games he can't even believe the kid's mom lets him play, that he wouldn't let Finn play if he'd known -- and he moves back into the kitchen, quickly setting the table.
Burt can hear them in the stairwell though, sort of -- and it's not like he's trying to eavesdrop, but Kurt's always been naturally loud. He'd like to claim that he gets that from Simone, but given the way he's been known to stop into that school of Kurt's to protest about shit he really shouldn't have to, he knows that Kurt gets it from him. The only difference is that Kurt's propensity for noise came hand in hand with an ability to actually sing.
"I would have asked, you know?" Kurt says, as though Blaine knows exactly what he means. Which, Burt realises after a beat, with the way they seem together, Blaine probably does. There's this look on both their faces sometimes, like they're drinking each other in, memorising each other, and Burt knows: it's not because they're worried they'll lose this, but because they understand the severity of what they went through to gain it.
He lays out salt and pepper knowing that Kurt will confiscate it and that he will complain and Carole will smile fondly; Burt wonders when he got so perceptive, even though he knows that too; in much the same way that Blaine understands Kurt, Burt does too. It's one of the best and worst side effects of loving his son - Kurt's made him into a better person, and it makes him hate the person he was all the more. Because he used to call kids fag and homo too; and it wasn't Kurt being gay that taught him it was wrong, but the paralysing realisation that he was saying these things about people's sons.
The cutlery sits heavy in his hand as he tries hard to listen and not to, all at the same time.
"I really would have, but it didn't seem appropriate, all things considered. You're lucky that Romeo and Juliet probably wasn't a play that my dad ever paid any attention to, if only because a version that actually contained guns wasn't released until long after he left high school. It's on my list of movies to watch with him one day, but it's not romantic, Blaine. They all die in the end."
Burt suppresses a laugh; that actually sounds kind of like the thing he would watch with Kurt and not even fall asleep.
"Would you really want to be in the same room as your dad while Leonardo diCaprio was on screen?"
"Leonardo? You're so cliché, Blaine, it's pathetic."
Burt can hear Blaine's shoes, scuffing against the carpet. He'd seen enough of Kurt's boyfriend in the week before prom to know his endless pacing is a sign of awkwardness. "You wereseriously going to ask if I could stay for dinner? I'm flattered, and honestly a little worried that you'd consider me family after --" Burt opens the fridge door under the pretence of getting a glass of water, because that's something he really doesn't need to hear about, and this is about as far away as he can get without revealing to the boys that he's still within earshot. "--but you don't have to, Kurt. It's your thing, I get it. And besides, I kind of like that we have our own individual rituals, because from what you've told me, it's the couples in New Directions that have no interests outside of each other that tend to fall apart."
Burt smiles, leaning back against the counter, and wonders if this kid knows exactly what he's getting into, dating Kurt. Because Simone had a friend like Mercedes, once, and damn. Finn let slip something about Blaine preaching courage, just before Christmas, and Kurt's friends are enough to make anyone need a stiff drink, as well as a good dose of that.
Not that - Burt still tries not to think about that, because it makes this whole Kurt having a boyfriend who happened to sleep in his bed before they were dating thing just a little easier.
"It's not a 'thing', Blaine," Kurt says. "There's a lot of effort that goes into planning a dinner which will allow Dad to get his recommended number of daily vegetables, not make Finn cry and which gives me enough time to finish deciding what to wear shopping with Mercedes and Tina on Saturday on Skype afterwards." Burt rolls his eyes, because -- this is what Carole meant when she said parenting was the easiest and the hardest thing ever; his son is a smart arse but Burt loves him anyway. He probably loves his son more for having a sense of humour, even if he doesn't actually understand it, actually.
"I love you," Blaine says, and he can almost hear Kurt smile in response. Suddenly, Burt feels like the worst kind of interloper, and stands back up, dropping the cutlery loud against the table. A butter knife clangs against a glass, piercing his ears, and he hopes that Kurt reads into it not as a warning, but an invitation to have their discussion in private. He can just tell, from the sudden clarity of Blaine's voice, the lack of hesitation -- they've said this before.
"I sincerely hope you're not just saying that because you heard I'm planning on making pasta for dinner, but you know the feeling's mutual."
As a teenager, he'd been more interested in what I love you was a prelude to, but --
Kurt's not complaining about the sudden crashes coming from the kitchen, so Burt slams a plate down with a little more force than is actually needed before sinking into a chair. He remembers the card that Kurt gave him from that cheerleader he tried to date or whatever once about heart attacks happening because you loved too much, or something. Kurt had rolled his eyes at it and muttered a whole bunch of things at once that all sounded like I'm just so glad you're home, but -- and Burt doesn't think these things very often because he's not even that eloquent in his own head, but with Kurt and Carole and Finn by his side all the time, he didn't even feel like he'd ever left.
The point is: his heart actually feels lighter because this is everything he ever wanted for Kurt, and it's like a weight has lifted now that he knows it was actually possible for Kurt to get it.
It occurs to him almost belatedly that maybe he should invite Blaine to stay for dinner, but that's kind of Kurt's place, really. If it was one of Finn's girlfriends, Burt probably would have invited them already -- well no, he wouldn't have, but it's easier with Finn, who doesn't seem to expect much except for Burt to believe him when he says he's staying the night at Artie's, which Burt pretends he does. Finn is his son, yes, but he isn't his son. There's a fine line which Carole says is typical in blended families but Burt can't quite seem to place, just that there's a difference on either side.
Besides, if this is any indication; there's going to be many more opportunities when Blaine will be around, maybe even -- no, he can't think about his son moving away from him for college, not just yet. Burt's almost glad when Finn comes barrelling in, interrupting something judging by the muffled shouts from the hallway and Finn's loud groan that he can't even mind with any more than a half-hearted he's my son, I should be waving a flashlight in his face or knocking loudly on a door, or something. Kurt almost deserves this because it's what any other teenage boy with a brother would probably get.
Blaine slips out the door after that, blushing profusely, but he hears Kurt's phone go off right as Finn launches into a rant about how Puck beat him out at some video game or other again and you get girls, Kurt, what the hell has Lauren done to him? Not that… okay, so maybe you can't help me understand what Zizes sees in him at all. Burt just smiles, and doesn't even reprimand Kurt for hiding his phone under the table when they finally sit down to dinner and settles instead for telling him that even if the pasta is wholemeal, his spaghetti is delicious.
It's a funny thing, but Burt knows that he likes Kurt's boyfriend simply because Blaine loves Kurt.
Glee; Burt, Blaine/Kurt; PG13+; ~3100 words
Burt wonders when he got so perceptive, even though he knows that too; in much the same way that Blaine understands Kurt, Burt does too. It's one of the best and worst side effects of loving his son - Kurt's made him into a better person, and it makes him hate the person he was all the more. Because he used to call kids fag and homo too; and it wasn't Kurt being gay that taught him it was wrong, but the paralysing realisation that he was saying these things about people's sons.
Originally written for rivulet027, as part of gleesummerfun. The whole West Side Story discussion does amuse me given its place in the actual show right now, so there's that, but mostly I just wanted an excuse to write bestfatherintheworld!Burt, and the fabulous prompts I got allowed just that.
It's a funny thing, but Burt knows that he likes Kurt's boyfriend when Blaine doesn't shift several inches away from Kurt the moment he steps into the living room. Because Finn would have been jolted out of his seat by now, jumping to the couch on the other side of the room and swearing that he and Rachel weren't doing anything, not really, and -
Blaine just sits there, smiling, as though he's refusing to act apologetic for loving Kurt.
They're not even doing anything remotely inappropriate, anyway; they're watching some movie Burt's pretty sure they've watched at least four or five times already (and normally, to Burt, that would have been the first sign, but they're both absorbed in some overdramatic crisis or other that can only be resolved by singing). Kurt's head is resting gently on Blaine's chest, and Blaine's got his arm wrapped around Kurt's shoulders, his fingers stroking over Kurt's wrist and knuckles in a way that appears absentminded but Burt can tell definitely isn't. He wonders, not for the first time, if for all Blaine's bluntness about sex, he's as unsure about and as much in desperate need of intimacy as Kurt.
Either way, the smile on his face is too many things at once, pride and caution and happiness and disbelief to be anything other than Kurt's, on the night before Regionals, when he'd come home and said Dad, Ohio might be lacking in haute couture and table manners, if Finn, Puck and the vast majority of Dalton are anything to go by, but it now contains my boyfriend.
Burt had maybe choked on his (admittedly delicious) skinless chicken and forced himself not to say you're dating the kid who basically told me he watches porn last week. Because feelings weren't easy, but he certainly wasn't ready for a dinner time discussion about that, either.
The 'please do not do anything embarrassing tomorrow' had been more than explicit in what Kurt wasn't saying, but Kurt was his son and Burt was too much of a father to avoid giving Blaine a not at all subtle slap on the back before congratulating him on his performance and warning him not to sing about 'panty-snatching' in the vicinity of his son, at least. The gesture was, indeed, more of a way of showing Kurt that the relationship had his full support ("Like he doesn't already know that, given that you're crying," Carole had said, slipping her hand into his. "You just wanted to an excuse to mess with his head.") But, Blaine had just nodded, taken Kurt's hand in his and said that he respected his boyfriend too much to do that in a way that suggested something else entirely. Not smarmy condescension, like Burt had expected from a Dalton boy whose privilege had seemed to extend to a lack of appreciation for boundaries, on several of the other occasions he'd met Blaine, but something like actual admiration for Kurt.
That had been -- an eye-opener, certainly, but not as unexpected as it should have been. Because while the thought of Kurt dating left him bemoaning being a father to Carole and her cheekily replying that she should have bought him a shotgun for his birthday (even if he wouldn't do that to Blaine, ever, if only because he actually likes how close he is with his son, and heknows Blaine would tell Kurt. Besides, if anyone's making grabby motions towards the virtue of one of his sons, he thinks it's most definitely Quinn Fabray or Rachel Berry, or all too often both of them at the same time, depending on the day of the week), he couldn't help but think that anyone whom Kurt would deem appropriate would probably also fall in love with him. Because he knows his son, and Kurt -- has pretty high standards when it comes to, well, everything, really. It's as big a part of the reason that Kurt is trying to convert him to sushi as his heart attack is and also why their house is always filled with music; according to Kurt, there's never an excuse not to practice.
(He kind of half-smiled when he said that, the other day, and Burt remembers a lot of late practices in the few days before Regionals or whatever and tries not to think too hard about what that means, because he's going to be supportive, even if it's simultaneously the easiest thing in the world and really, really difficult. Kurt is any other teenage boy, but he also isn't. He knows what it means when Finn comes home walking funny or with a strange kind of hitch to his breath and it worries him, because that was Burt, once. He doesn't know what it means when Kurt comes home humming a particular Broadway tune that's meant to express his mood and it worries him just as much, because that wasn't Burt, once, and he's not sure how to act. He's not even sure if there is a right way to act, in all honesty, because fatherhood isn't a scripted thing. And Kurt's always been better at acting than him.)
So, Burt also knows that his son wouldn't accept anyone who had less than high standards in return.
But for all Kurt's love of the spotlight, Burt thinks that it's when he steps out of it that he really commands an audience. He doesn't really get the whole singing thing, but right now, Kurt's humming along to whatever and even Burt can tell it's a little out of tune, or whatever the fancy word is, but Blaine's got this doe-eyed expression on his face like he's hearing something other than Kurt's voice. And just the fact that Kurt has actually agreed to cuddle with his boyfriend despite it being ninety-degrees out and that he's not wearing his customary three layers of frankly hideous clothing that he only wears when he's leaving the house or having the girls over for sleepovers and that he's not protesting about the popcorn's saturated fat levels tells Burt a lot more than it should: unlike when he was "dating" that cheerleader, Kurt's not putting on an act.
Okay, so maybe he's been a little generous by letting Blaine eat the popcorn, if his constant eye rolls in its direction are any indication. But Kurt's always been rather concerned about his health. And he hasn't said a thing about his boyfriend lounging around in a Dalton t-shirt and sweatpants, either. Which makes Burt think that this whole boyfriend thing isn't about him actually having a boyfriend or proving a point to Ohio or anything, but about his boyfriend being Blaine. And Burt knows all too well that you can't hate anyone for just being themselves.
Even if that person just so happens to be dating your son.
"You haven't heard from Finn, have you?" he asks eventually, remembering that he had a point beyond subtly reminding his son that there were boundaries, of a sort. Boundaries that neither of them are pushing right now, although their level of comfort with each other gives Burt the nagging suspicion that they are, at other times, elsewhere. He doesn't even want to know if 'spending the night at Mercedes' still actually means 'singing Broadway at three in the morning despite the fact that Mercedes' neighbours once called the police' anymore, or if it's code for something else entirely. "Carole will be home, soon. Dinner's in fifteen minutes and I still haven't seen him."
Burt ignores the fact that he hasn't actually expressly forbidden things happening outside his house, because he's a father and even though he knows it's not his right to tell them they can't he still kind of feels like it's his duty. If only because Kurt wants to be treated the same as everyone else and it's what Burt would tell Finn.
"Finn texted me to tell me he's on his way home from blowing up animated Afghani soldiers with Puck, and Blaine was just about to leave," Kurt replies, pausing the movie and sitting up straight against the arm of the couch. "We were watching West Side Story, and I figured we'd have time to finish the movie, but Blaine got started on his belief that Shakespeare was overtly misogynistic."
Blaine just smiles fondly up at Kurt in response. "He's just mad at my refusal to quote Romeo and Juliet at him. We both hate the play anyway, but there's some clichés I just…" He wrings his hands together, and Burt gets the sense that he's trying to squeeze some semblance of embarrassment out of his skin. "Sorry… I sort of forget that not everyone wants to hear about the trivialities of our relationship all the time. Even Mercedes told me to stop it, the other day, and she's been waxing poetic about Sam for the better part of three weeks, while Kurt's been helping her boyfriend take better care of his skin because of all the pizza grease."
Burt just nods, unsure what he's even meant to say to that. Because he thinks he'd like to know; not too-much but just enough; this is as new to him as it is to Kurt, and even though Carole says that being the parent of a kid who's dating never becomes second nature, Burt's done hard too many times, with Kurt, and he'd kind of like this to be easy.
"Kurt's undoubtedly already told you this, but Dalton makes us do mandatory community service two Saturdays a month -- not that I wouldn't do it even if they didn't force us to, because those kids, they're amazing - and I have to be up early to drive over to the hospital tomorrow. This is our last week before the summer, but if I get the job at Six Flags, I'm thinking about seeing if I can't score tickets for them to come and see me perform for a day, or something." Blaine grins widely up at him, as he gathers up his stuff from the coffee table. "A couple of the Warblers were swapped into my community service group because they lacked the requisite patience to deal with Westerville's disaffected youths, so we'll probably end up singing some songs to cheer them up."
Kurt rolls his eyes. "At least you'll be in the right place when you fall off a table and break your hip," he says, before stretching and standing up. "But seriously, I'll walk you out --"
There's no protest from either of them; it takes Blaine a moment or two to gather his remaining things -- and Burt can't believe that Kurt didn't have enough movies for them to choose from, but he lets it slide because he's lost track of how many video games of Puck's he's found lying around, games he can't even believe the kid's mom lets him play, that he wouldn't let Finn play if he'd known -- and he moves back into the kitchen, quickly setting the table.
Burt can hear them in the stairwell though, sort of -- and it's not like he's trying to eavesdrop, but Kurt's always been naturally loud. He'd like to claim that he gets that from Simone, but given the way he's been known to stop into that school of Kurt's to protest about shit he really shouldn't have to, he knows that Kurt gets it from him. The only difference is that Kurt's propensity for noise came hand in hand with an ability to actually sing.
"I would have asked, you know?" Kurt says, as though Blaine knows exactly what he means. Which, Burt realises after a beat, with the way they seem together, Blaine probably does. There's this look on both their faces sometimes, like they're drinking each other in, memorising each other, and Burt knows: it's not because they're worried they'll lose this, but because they understand the severity of what they went through to gain it.
He lays out salt and pepper knowing that Kurt will confiscate it and that he will complain and Carole will smile fondly; Burt wonders when he got so perceptive, even though he knows that too; in much the same way that Blaine understands Kurt, Burt does too. It's one of the best and worst side effects of loving his son - Kurt's made him into a better person, and it makes him hate the person he was all the more. Because he used to call kids fag and homo too; and it wasn't Kurt being gay that taught him it was wrong, but the paralysing realisation that he was saying these things about people's sons.
The cutlery sits heavy in his hand as he tries hard to listen and not to, all at the same time.
"I really would have, but it didn't seem appropriate, all things considered. You're lucky that Romeo and Juliet probably wasn't a play that my dad ever paid any attention to, if only because a version that actually contained guns wasn't released until long after he left high school. It's on my list of movies to watch with him one day, but it's not romantic, Blaine. They all die in the end."
Burt suppresses a laugh; that actually sounds kind of like the thing he would watch with Kurt and not even fall asleep.
"Would you really want to be in the same room as your dad while Leonardo diCaprio was on screen?"
"Leonardo? You're so cliché, Blaine, it's pathetic."
Burt can hear Blaine's shoes, scuffing against the carpet. He'd seen enough of Kurt's boyfriend in the week before prom to know his endless pacing is a sign of awkwardness. "You wereseriously going to ask if I could stay for dinner? I'm flattered, and honestly a little worried that you'd consider me family after --" Burt opens the fridge door under the pretence of getting a glass of water, because that's something he really doesn't need to hear about, and this is about as far away as he can get without revealing to the boys that he's still within earshot. "--but you don't have to, Kurt. It's your thing, I get it. And besides, I kind of like that we have our own individual rituals, because from what you've told me, it's the couples in New Directions that have no interests outside of each other that tend to fall apart."
Burt smiles, leaning back against the counter, and wonders if this kid knows exactly what he's getting into, dating Kurt. Because Simone had a friend like Mercedes, once, and damn. Finn let slip something about Blaine preaching courage, just before Christmas, and Kurt's friends are enough to make anyone need a stiff drink, as well as a good dose of that.
Not that - Burt still tries not to think about that, because it makes this whole Kurt having a boyfriend who happened to sleep in his bed before they were dating thing just a little easier.
"It's not a 'thing', Blaine," Kurt says. "There's a lot of effort that goes into planning a dinner which will allow Dad to get his recommended number of daily vegetables, not make Finn cry and which gives me enough time to finish deciding what to wear shopping with Mercedes and Tina on Saturday on Skype afterwards." Burt rolls his eyes, because -- this is what Carole meant when she said parenting was the easiest and the hardest thing ever; his son is a smart arse but Burt loves him anyway. He probably loves his son more for having a sense of humour, even if he doesn't actually understand it, actually.
"I love you," Blaine says, and he can almost hear Kurt smile in response. Suddenly, Burt feels like the worst kind of interloper, and stands back up, dropping the cutlery loud against the table. A butter knife clangs against a glass, piercing his ears, and he hopes that Kurt reads into it not as a warning, but an invitation to have their discussion in private. He can just tell, from the sudden clarity of Blaine's voice, the lack of hesitation -- they've said this before.
"I sincerely hope you're not just saying that because you heard I'm planning on making pasta for dinner, but you know the feeling's mutual."
As a teenager, he'd been more interested in what I love you was a prelude to, but --
Kurt's not complaining about the sudden crashes coming from the kitchen, so Burt slams a plate down with a little more force than is actually needed before sinking into a chair. He remembers the card that Kurt gave him from that cheerleader he tried to date or whatever once about heart attacks happening because you loved too much, or something. Kurt had rolled his eyes at it and muttered a whole bunch of things at once that all sounded like I'm just so glad you're home, but -- and Burt doesn't think these things very often because he's not even that eloquent in his own head, but with Kurt and Carole and Finn by his side all the time, he didn't even feel like he'd ever left.
The point is: his heart actually feels lighter because this is everything he ever wanted for Kurt, and it's like a weight has lifted now that he knows it was actually possible for Kurt to get it.
It occurs to him almost belatedly that maybe he should invite Blaine to stay for dinner, but that's kind of Kurt's place, really. If it was one of Finn's girlfriends, Burt probably would have invited them already -- well no, he wouldn't have, but it's easier with Finn, who doesn't seem to expect much except for Burt to believe him when he says he's staying the night at Artie's, which Burt pretends he does. Finn is his son, yes, but he isn't his son. There's a fine line which Carole says is typical in blended families but Burt can't quite seem to place, just that there's a difference on either side.
Besides, if this is any indication; there's going to be many more opportunities when Blaine will be around, maybe even -- no, he can't think about his son moving away from him for college, not just yet. Burt's almost glad when Finn comes barrelling in, interrupting something judging by the muffled shouts from the hallway and Finn's loud groan that he can't even mind with any more than a half-hearted he's my son, I should be waving a flashlight in his face or knocking loudly on a door, or something. Kurt almost deserves this because it's what any other teenage boy with a brother would probably get.
Blaine slips out the door after that, blushing profusely, but he hears Kurt's phone go off right as Finn launches into a rant about how Puck beat him out at some video game or other again and you get girls, Kurt, what the hell has Lauren done to him? Not that… okay, so maybe you can't help me understand what Zizes sees in him at all. Burt just smiles, and doesn't even reprimand Kurt for hiding his phone under the table when they finally sit down to dinner and settles instead for telling him that even if the pasta is wholemeal, his spaghetti is delicious.
It's a funny thing, but Burt knows that he likes Kurt's boyfriend simply because Blaine loves Kurt.