The life and times of Drew Hummell Anderson
The life and times of Drew Hummell Anderson
AUTHOR: Hardy 1234
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY:It's not easy being the son of Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson.
WORD COUNT: 2171
DISCLAIMERS: Not mine.
Tags: author: hardy1234, blaine/kurt, media: fanfiction, rating: pg-13
First of all let me say that I love my Dads.
Did I mention I love my Dads?
We live in a nice brownstone in the borough of Brooklyn, and both my Dads are involved in the arts. Papa Blaine is a songwriter and has written some pretty well known commercial jingles. You name it, he can write a song for it. He can make something catchy to hum about from anything under the sun, from computers to cruise lines . He wrote one very successful jingle for the GAP that supposedly is going to pay for my college education. According to Daddy Kurt that commercial venture makes up for an earlier ugly GAP incident in Papa Blaine’s apparently debauched youth. Those GAP remarks are one of the few times that I can see Papa Blaine lose his temper and actually look irritated at Daddy Kurt.
Daddy Kurt is a theatrical stage manager, and he has been involved with some of the biggest hits on Broadway. I don’t know, his job to me seems to be spending a lot of the time arguing with directors, set designers and costumers who apparently don’t know how to do their job. Papa Blaine picks me up after school and we spend quite a lot of time backstage watching Daddy’s drama with whatever production he’s working on. I can tell Papa Blaine is so proud of Daddy, he’s always telling me Daddy Kurt is a theatrical genius. Daddy once worked on a musical with Aunt Rachel, and let me tell you, that was a very interesting experience. The tears, the tantrums, the breakdowns, and that was just from the stage hands who had do deal with both of them every day. I love Aunt Rachel, she spoils me rotten and she is the only person I know who can render Daddy Kurt speechless. In his words, her ego makes Patti Lupone look like Mother Teresa. Daddy Kurt tends to talk a lot like that.
Having Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson as my Dads has screwed me up big time. I’m not kidding, I’m seriously screwed up.
How many teenage kids do you know that have memorized all the lyrics of every Stephen Sondheim musical and all the major statistics for every Ohio Buckeye college football season for the last twenty five years? However, I have to credit to Grandpa Burt for teaching me how to rebuild the engine of a classic muscle car like it’s nobody’s business. Grandpa Burt may be slowing down but he’s still the best Grandfather in the world. End of story. End of discussion. Grandpa Anderson on the other hand…
I tend to digress a lot so back to my Dads.
They really are the best Dads, even if they do a tad too much Public Displays of Affection for my taste. I mean, they are always holding hands and mooning at each other in public. Pulease, they are ancient and you would think they would be beyond all that stuff. They grew up when Harry Potter movies were cutting edge special effects and Justien Bieber was not a talk show host. They haven’t been teenagers for a very very long time. Without a whiff of irony they call each other their “teenage dream” which I suppose is sweet but…really. I don’t mean to be a stick in the mud, but there is a child present.
Confidentially I can confess how it’s nice in a cheezy kind of way that they are so much in love, but c’mon I can’t tell them that, they would be ten times worse if I gave them any kind of encouragement.
Papa Blaine is wonderful, even if he does like to break out in song at the most inopportune moments.
Daddy Kurt blows me away with his fashion advice, even if I cringe over how he critiques every single thing I put on. It’s a battle to wear what I want, and I have to be the only kid in America who fights with his Dad because I want to dress more conservatively. I swear he thinks scarves are as essential as socks for school attire.
Personally, I just don’t think a Mark Jacobs jacket is necessary for everyday use, thankyouverymuch. Plus, not to belabor the point, but seriously who wears bondage gear to First period math?
“No son of mine is going to go to school dressed like that” Daddy huffed the other day over the breakfast table while looking over at what I had chosen to wear to school.
“What is wrong with how I’m dressed, it’s quite normal.” I was wearing something out of a preppy catalogue, because, well, I can be quite the teenage rebel.
“Precisely my point, no son of Kurt Hummell will be content to just look ‘normal’. March yourself back into your room young man and get an ensemble that snaps and pops and says, “This is Drew Hummell Anderson.”
“I’m wearing a button down shirt, a cardigan, and jeans, that’s good enough”, I pouted. (Daddy Kurt says that I get my pouting from Papa Blaine, and believe me, sometimes it works wonders when I want something. Even Daddy Kurt is powerless if we are both pouting in tandem. You see, it’s like a super power that you have to use responsibly and sparingly, such as convincing Daddy Kurt that we needed to plan a family vacation around the awesomeness that is King’s Island with its rollercoasters and all the fried food you can eat. Papa Blaine and I had to pout a lot for that one)
Daddy Kurt sputtered at me, “Drew Hummell Anderson, are those topsider shoes you’re wearing??”
I glanced down and realized that they were. Damn. I blew it, I was planning to wear the designer shoes Daddy had bought me at home, and then slip into the topsiders on my way to school. Big mistake.
Daddy Kurt gave a withering look to Papa Blaine and snapped at him, “Drew gets his horrible fashion cues from you, Blaine.” Papa Blaine just shrugged his shoulders and winked at me as if to say “humor your dad.”
It took three trips but whose counting up and down the stairs to have an ensemble that satisfied Dad. It’s like every day I have to sell my ‘look’ and work the the living room as a runway to satisfy Daddy. He swears I will thank him some day. “Your teenage days are numbered but fashion is forever” is Daddy’s sage advice on the matter.
However, to be honest, Papa Blaine isn’t much better.
Last year I made the tragic mistake of telling him I had joined the school Glee club. He got that look in his eye that is a warning sign that he was going to be overly invested in whatever project I’m about to embark in.
“The Glee Club, huh? I don’t know if you realized, son, that I was the lead singer of my Glee Club back in high school at the Dalton Academy called the Warblers.”
Ok, maybe I do get my sarcasm from my other Dad, but it took all my will power not to mutter, “Ya don’t say, like I haven’t heard every friggin day of my life how you and the Warblers were rock stars.”
“You know Drew, we sort of were rock stars back in our day.”
“Really Papa?” Well maybe I couldn’t get all the sarcasm out of my voice because if I didn’t know better I thought I saw a slight smirk on Daddy Kurt’s face. Daddy Kurt sometimes is not a good influence on me.
Remember what I said about using super powers? Daddy Kurt and I both being snarky in tandem is not a pretty sight. We can reduce anyone to a quivering mess. Grandpa Burt had a serious talk with me about it once, something about with great power comes great responsibility. Grandpa Burt is so awesome, he is like the only person I know invulnerable to us. It’s like he’s the Jor-El of grandfathers.
OK, back to the Glee club story that has scarred me for life.
“I can give you some pointers if you want on how to sell a number.” Papa Blaine was so earnest about it that I couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, Papa, for now I’m just singing backup in the choir.”
“Nonsense, no Anderson just sings backup. What set list have you prepared for your audition?”
“I don’t have an audition yet. I’m happy just be in the background and learn the ropes. I don’t have to shine and be the star.”
OK.
That went over well.
Both my Dads exploded at that point. Papa Anderson was practically in tears wondering where he had gone wrong and Daddy Kurt was reassuring him that it was just a phase I was going through. Daddy then told me to apologize for upsetting Papa so. I promised not to be so disrespectful next time. Everyone thinks my Dads are so adorable and they are, they really are, but still…
The next week in school Papa happened to get out of work early and happened to stumble accidently into the choir room during Glee practice.
Accidently my ass.
After regaling everyone with stories of his success with the Warblers, and mentioning several times how the Warblers were rock stars in their days, I thought the worst was over.
However, the choir Director, Mr. Benston, made the fatal mistake of saying, “Maybe someday Mr. Anderson you can show us some of your old choir moves.”
Shit.
Just no.
Papa proceeded to perform a medley of what he called, so help me, the ‘Warblers’s greatest hits.’ I’m sure in his day singing to Kate Perry was hip, but really, Kate Perry? She’s not even retro cool these days. Anyways, Papa Blaine proceeded to act out his lyrics (his show faces are, well, interesting, especially for someone so old; didn’t Grandma Anderson ever tell him his face could freeze if he made too many of those faces?) and even jumped ever so energetically on top of the furniture and piano in the choir room, ending his performance with a flourish as he treated the mike as a phallic symbol. I swear he was pantomiming fellatio by the end of his performance. (You have my Dads to thank for me knowing all these terms but they decided I needed to learn from about and I quote “the facts of life unadorned and unembellished so that you don’t grow up a sexual penguin” unquote. Like I said, I’m one screwed up kid.)
Most of my school mates applauded politely, though my best friend Derek simply whispered to me “I’m so sorry,” while our Choir Director just stood there dumfounded.
I was never so humiliated in my life.
And that’s a high bar with my Dads.
Yet what is so frustrating is that I can’t even stay mad at my Dads despite all the things they put me through.
All the way home from school I was fuming. Papa Blaine seemed oblivious to my shame and the fact that I will be the laughing stock of all my friends for the rest of the term. My life is officially over. All he said after an awkward silence was “So what did you think of the number?” Glowering at him in silence was my only response.
At home Daddy Kurt saw immediately from the look on my face that things had not gone well. It was not a good dinner, throughout the meal Papa Blaine looked hurt, Daddy Kurt looked concerned and I was, well, I was still mad.
That night Daddy Kurt pulled me aside and hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Drew, you do realize that your Papa practiced for days that number just to impress you? I had to give him a backrub tonight he’s so sore. I knew he shouldn’t have attempted that last split but he can be so stubborn. It’s just that he loves you so much and was just trying to help out with your Glee experience. That is just him, you have to understand he will always be Blaine Warbler the man I fell in love with. Son, can you just do your old man a huge favor and tell Papa he was amazing and that his performance was breathtaking?”
Daddy Kurt had tears in his eyes and dammit If I didn’t get a little teary eyed myself.
Papa Blaine is amazing and so is Daddy Kurt.
That is so unfair.
Which leads me to the start of this story.
Did I mention I love my Dads?
I’m not a bad kid, I swear I’m not.
I feel guilty but at the moment I’m keeping something from both my Dads, namely that I just got the lead in the school musical.
Of course I‘m going to tell them eventually, but just not yet. I promise I will tell them.
Maybe just before they are taking their seats to watch the musical.
AUTHOR: Hardy 1234
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY:It's not easy being the son of Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson.
WORD COUNT: 2171
DISCLAIMERS: Not mine.
Tags: author: hardy1234, blaine/kurt, media: fanfiction, rating: pg-13
First of all let me say that I love my Dads.
Did I mention I love my Dads?
We live in a nice brownstone in the borough of Brooklyn, and both my Dads are involved in the arts. Papa Blaine is a songwriter and has written some pretty well known commercial jingles. You name it, he can write a song for it. He can make something catchy to hum about from anything under the sun, from computers to cruise lines . He wrote one very successful jingle for the GAP that supposedly is going to pay for my college education. According to Daddy Kurt that commercial venture makes up for an earlier ugly GAP incident in Papa Blaine’s apparently debauched youth. Those GAP remarks are one of the few times that I can see Papa Blaine lose his temper and actually look irritated at Daddy Kurt.
Daddy Kurt is a theatrical stage manager, and he has been involved with some of the biggest hits on Broadway. I don’t know, his job to me seems to be spending a lot of the time arguing with directors, set designers and costumers who apparently don’t know how to do their job. Papa Blaine picks me up after school and we spend quite a lot of time backstage watching Daddy’s drama with whatever production he’s working on. I can tell Papa Blaine is so proud of Daddy, he’s always telling me Daddy Kurt is a theatrical genius. Daddy once worked on a musical with Aunt Rachel, and let me tell you, that was a very interesting experience. The tears, the tantrums, the breakdowns, and that was just from the stage hands who had do deal with both of them every day. I love Aunt Rachel, she spoils me rotten and she is the only person I know who can render Daddy Kurt speechless. In his words, her ego makes Patti Lupone look like Mother Teresa. Daddy Kurt tends to talk a lot like that.
Having Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson as my Dads has screwed me up big time. I’m not kidding, I’m seriously screwed up.
How many teenage kids do you know that have memorized all the lyrics of every Stephen Sondheim musical and all the major statistics for every Ohio Buckeye college football season for the last twenty five years? However, I have to credit to Grandpa Burt for teaching me how to rebuild the engine of a classic muscle car like it’s nobody’s business. Grandpa Burt may be slowing down but he’s still the best Grandfather in the world. End of story. End of discussion. Grandpa Anderson on the other hand…
I tend to digress a lot so back to my Dads.
They really are the best Dads, even if they do a tad too much Public Displays of Affection for my taste. I mean, they are always holding hands and mooning at each other in public. Pulease, they are ancient and you would think they would be beyond all that stuff. They grew up when Harry Potter movies were cutting edge special effects and Justien Bieber was not a talk show host. They haven’t been teenagers for a very very long time. Without a whiff of irony they call each other their “teenage dream” which I suppose is sweet but…really. I don’t mean to be a stick in the mud, but there is a child present.
Confidentially I can confess how it’s nice in a cheezy kind of way that they are so much in love, but c’mon I can’t tell them that, they would be ten times worse if I gave them any kind of encouragement.
Papa Blaine is wonderful, even if he does like to break out in song at the most inopportune moments.
Daddy Kurt blows me away with his fashion advice, even if I cringe over how he critiques every single thing I put on. It’s a battle to wear what I want, and I have to be the only kid in America who fights with his Dad because I want to dress more conservatively. I swear he thinks scarves are as essential as socks for school attire.
Personally, I just don’t think a Mark Jacobs jacket is necessary for everyday use, thankyouverymuch. Plus, not to belabor the point, but seriously who wears bondage gear to First period math?
“No son of mine is going to go to school dressed like that” Daddy huffed the other day over the breakfast table while looking over at what I had chosen to wear to school.
“What is wrong with how I’m dressed, it’s quite normal.” I was wearing something out of a preppy catalogue, because, well, I can be quite the teenage rebel.
“Precisely my point, no son of Kurt Hummell will be content to just look ‘normal’. March yourself back into your room young man and get an ensemble that snaps and pops and says, “This is Drew Hummell Anderson.”
“I’m wearing a button down shirt, a cardigan, and jeans, that’s good enough”, I pouted. (Daddy Kurt says that I get my pouting from Papa Blaine, and believe me, sometimes it works wonders when I want something. Even Daddy Kurt is powerless if we are both pouting in tandem. You see, it’s like a super power that you have to use responsibly and sparingly, such as convincing Daddy Kurt that we needed to plan a family vacation around the awesomeness that is King’s Island with its rollercoasters and all the fried food you can eat. Papa Blaine and I had to pout a lot for that one)
Daddy Kurt sputtered at me, “Drew Hummell Anderson, are those topsider shoes you’re wearing??”
I glanced down and realized that they were. Damn. I blew it, I was planning to wear the designer shoes Daddy had bought me at home, and then slip into the topsiders on my way to school. Big mistake.
Daddy Kurt gave a withering look to Papa Blaine and snapped at him, “Drew gets his horrible fashion cues from you, Blaine.” Papa Blaine just shrugged his shoulders and winked at me as if to say “humor your dad.”
It took three trips but whose counting up and down the stairs to have an ensemble that satisfied Dad. It’s like every day I have to sell my ‘look’ and work the the living room as a runway to satisfy Daddy. He swears I will thank him some day. “Your teenage days are numbered but fashion is forever” is Daddy’s sage advice on the matter.
However, to be honest, Papa Blaine isn’t much better.
Last year I made the tragic mistake of telling him I had joined the school Glee club. He got that look in his eye that is a warning sign that he was going to be overly invested in whatever project I’m about to embark in.
“The Glee Club, huh? I don’t know if you realized, son, that I was the lead singer of my Glee Club back in high school at the Dalton Academy called the Warblers.”
Ok, maybe I do get my sarcasm from my other Dad, but it took all my will power not to mutter, “Ya don’t say, like I haven’t heard every friggin day of my life how you and the Warblers were rock stars.”
“You know Drew, we sort of were rock stars back in our day.”
“Really Papa?” Well maybe I couldn’t get all the sarcasm out of my voice because if I didn’t know better I thought I saw a slight smirk on Daddy Kurt’s face. Daddy Kurt sometimes is not a good influence on me.
Remember what I said about using super powers? Daddy Kurt and I both being snarky in tandem is not a pretty sight. We can reduce anyone to a quivering mess. Grandpa Burt had a serious talk with me about it once, something about with great power comes great responsibility. Grandpa Burt is so awesome, he is like the only person I know invulnerable to us. It’s like he’s the Jor-El of grandfathers.
OK, back to the Glee club story that has scarred me for life.
“I can give you some pointers if you want on how to sell a number.” Papa Blaine was so earnest about it that I couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, Papa, for now I’m just singing backup in the choir.”
“Nonsense, no Anderson just sings backup. What set list have you prepared for your audition?”
“I don’t have an audition yet. I’m happy just be in the background and learn the ropes. I don’t have to shine and be the star.”
OK.
That went over well.
Both my Dads exploded at that point. Papa Anderson was practically in tears wondering where he had gone wrong and Daddy Kurt was reassuring him that it was just a phase I was going through. Daddy then told me to apologize for upsetting Papa so. I promised not to be so disrespectful next time. Everyone thinks my Dads are so adorable and they are, they really are, but still…
The next week in school Papa happened to get out of work early and happened to stumble accidently into the choir room during Glee practice.
Accidently my ass.
After regaling everyone with stories of his success with the Warblers, and mentioning several times how the Warblers were rock stars in their days, I thought the worst was over.
However, the choir Director, Mr. Benston, made the fatal mistake of saying, “Maybe someday Mr. Anderson you can show us some of your old choir moves.”
Shit.
Just no.
Papa proceeded to perform a medley of what he called, so help me, the ‘Warblers’s greatest hits.’ I’m sure in his day singing to Kate Perry was hip, but really, Kate Perry? She’s not even retro cool these days. Anyways, Papa Blaine proceeded to act out his lyrics (his show faces are, well, interesting, especially for someone so old; didn’t Grandma Anderson ever tell him his face could freeze if he made too many of those faces?) and even jumped ever so energetically on top of the furniture and piano in the choir room, ending his performance with a flourish as he treated the mike as a phallic symbol. I swear he was pantomiming fellatio by the end of his performance. (You have my Dads to thank for me knowing all these terms but they decided I needed to learn from about and I quote “the facts of life unadorned and unembellished so that you don’t grow up a sexual penguin” unquote. Like I said, I’m one screwed up kid.)
Most of my school mates applauded politely, though my best friend Derek simply whispered to me “I’m so sorry,” while our Choir Director just stood there dumfounded.
I was never so humiliated in my life.
And that’s a high bar with my Dads.
Yet what is so frustrating is that I can’t even stay mad at my Dads despite all the things they put me through.
All the way home from school I was fuming. Papa Blaine seemed oblivious to my shame and the fact that I will be the laughing stock of all my friends for the rest of the term. My life is officially over. All he said after an awkward silence was “So what did you think of the number?” Glowering at him in silence was my only response.
At home Daddy Kurt saw immediately from the look on my face that things had not gone well. It was not a good dinner, throughout the meal Papa Blaine looked hurt, Daddy Kurt looked concerned and I was, well, I was still mad.
That night Daddy Kurt pulled me aside and hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Drew, you do realize that your Papa practiced for days that number just to impress you? I had to give him a backrub tonight he’s so sore. I knew he shouldn’t have attempted that last split but he can be so stubborn. It’s just that he loves you so much and was just trying to help out with your Glee experience. That is just him, you have to understand he will always be Blaine Warbler the man I fell in love with. Son, can you just do your old man a huge favor and tell Papa he was amazing and that his performance was breathtaking?”
Daddy Kurt had tears in his eyes and dammit If I didn’t get a little teary eyed myself.
Papa Blaine is amazing and so is Daddy Kurt.
That is so unfair.
Which leads me to the start of this story.
Did I mention I love my Dads?
I’m not a bad kid, I swear I’m not.
I feel guilty but at the moment I’m keeping something from both my Dads, namely that I just got the lead in the school musical.
Of course I‘m going to tell them eventually, but just not yet. I promise I will tell them.
Maybe just before they are taking their seats to watch the musical.