ficlet: Conversation Between Dads
I wanted to write a conversation between Burt and Blaine's Dad and then this happened help.
“It must have been easier for you, I think.” Mr. Anderson says quietly, as the last cool breeze of spring settles into summer. “Raising Kurt.”
Burt doesn’t say anything for a while, just sips his beer softly. The graduation party going on in the background finally seems to be winding down just as the sun is setting. He suspects the New Directions or whatever it is Kurt’s oddball ground of friends call themselves these days will be heading to the Puckerman residence as soon as the sun has completely set and the parents have gone home. He finds he doesn’t mind so much: he graduated from high school once before, too, and he knows his kids are smart enough not to drink and drive.
So instead he drinks his beer slowly, and tries not to be immediately insulted by whatever his son’s boyfriend’s father is trying to say. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Mr. Anderson is sitting on the stairs now, trying to take up as little space as possible, in a move that reminds Burt startlingly enough of Blaine. “You probably knew that he was gay before he came out, right? No offense.”
Burt takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that this is the man who thought rebuilding a car with his son might make him straight. “I had my suspicions. I wasn’t going to assume anything until Kurt told me himself.”
“Right, but you still had an idea that it was coming. Or might be coming.” Mr. Anderson took another drink of his diet caffeine-free clear-colored carbonated whatever. “When Blaine came out, it was like being hit by a car. Just…completely unexpected, no warning, no way to prepare or anything. Just driving along and then bam, there goes Blaine’s college fund trying to fix it up.”
“That’s why you pay attention to where you’re going.” That’s why you pay attention to your son. “Less likely to get blindsided that way.”
Mr. Anderson smiles thinly, but not unkindly. “No one can see everything, Mr. Hummel.” He takes another sip of his soda and watches the kids-not kids, little adults, too grown up and yet not nearly grown enough-sing and dance and chase around in the backyard. There might be water guns involved. “It must have been easier, with Kurt.”
Burt can’t help but snort. “Lot of words I’d use to describe Kurt, but easy’s never been one of them.”
“Would’ve been easier for me, then, I should say. Kurt’s very obvious, and he’s very-“ He pauses, trying to think of the polite word to say. “-direct. You never have to guess what he wants. He’s more than happy to tell you. With Blaine it’s always a guessing game, and I always guess wrong.” He puts his soda can down, and stares sadly at the setting sun. “If I do something masculine with him, then I’m trying to make him straight. If I do something feminine, well, then I’m just catering to stereotypes.” He grins, and Burt didn’t think there was much resemblance between the two Anderson men before, but he can see it now: they share the same smile. “With Blaine, it’s like he could never figure out if he wanted me to treat him like a boy or a girl.”
“I’ve never treated Kurt like a girl,” Burt confesses; he’s done a lot of stupid shit with Kurt over the years, but he’s never done that. “I’ve always just tried to treat him like Kurt.”
“Like I said, you had it easier.” Mr. Anderson smiles. “I like Kurt.” He says suddenly, like he’s sharing some sort of secret. “He’s a good kid. You did a good job raising him.”
Burt frowns, unsure if he likes where this conversation is headed. “Blaine’s a good kid, too, you know. You don’t give him enough credit.”
Mr. Anderson softens. “He is a good kid. I know that. That’s the difference between the two of them, though.” Mr. Anderson stands, suddenly, and Burt has to look up at him instead. “Kurt’s a good kid because of you. Blaine’s a good kid in spite of me.”
He holds his hand out for Burt to shake, like they haven’t been sitting here talking for the past ten minutes. “Thank you again for the party. We had a wonderful time.”
He finds his wife and pulls her away from Mrs. Chang, waves at his son and tells him to be home at some point, Blaine, honestly, and then they’re gone and Burt is alone with his thoughts.
But he’s not quite alone, and if he’s quick enough he might be able to sneak a slice of graduation cake away before Kurt or Carole notices. He looks over and sees that--yes, Kurt is sufficiently distracted, if the way he’s laughing and pulling at Blaine is anything to go by.
He always thought Kurt had it bad, you know. Looking the way he does, acting the way he does. Blaine, at least, can pass as straight: no one looks at him and sees gay kid in the way they do with Kurt.
But then he thinks about what Mr. Anderson said--coming out like a car crash, unexpected and horrifying--and wonders, for the first time, if maybe he got lucky after all.
END?
A/N: I don't know what I'm doing help.
“It must have been easier for you, I think.” Mr. Anderson says quietly, as the last cool breeze of spring settles into summer. “Raising Kurt.”
Burt doesn’t say anything for a while, just sips his beer softly. The graduation party going on in the background finally seems to be winding down just as the sun is setting. He suspects the New Directions or whatever it is Kurt’s oddball ground of friends call themselves these days will be heading to the Puckerman residence as soon as the sun has completely set and the parents have gone home. He finds he doesn’t mind so much: he graduated from high school once before, too, and he knows his kids are smart enough not to drink and drive.
So instead he drinks his beer slowly, and tries not to be immediately insulted by whatever his son’s boyfriend’s father is trying to say. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Mr. Anderson is sitting on the stairs now, trying to take up as little space as possible, in a move that reminds Burt startlingly enough of Blaine. “You probably knew that he was gay before he came out, right? No offense.”
Burt takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that this is the man who thought rebuilding a car with his son might make him straight. “I had my suspicions. I wasn’t going to assume anything until Kurt told me himself.”
“Right, but you still had an idea that it was coming. Or might be coming.” Mr. Anderson took another drink of his diet caffeine-free clear-colored carbonated whatever. “When Blaine came out, it was like being hit by a car. Just…completely unexpected, no warning, no way to prepare or anything. Just driving along and then bam, there goes Blaine’s college fund trying to fix it up.”
“That’s why you pay attention to where you’re going.” That’s why you pay attention to your son. “Less likely to get blindsided that way.”
Mr. Anderson smiles thinly, but not unkindly. “No one can see everything, Mr. Hummel.” He takes another sip of his soda and watches the kids-not kids, little adults, too grown up and yet not nearly grown enough-sing and dance and chase around in the backyard. There might be water guns involved. “It must have been easier, with Kurt.”
Burt can’t help but snort. “Lot of words I’d use to describe Kurt, but easy’s never been one of them.”
“Would’ve been easier for me, then, I should say. Kurt’s very obvious, and he’s very-“ He pauses, trying to think of the polite word to say. “-direct. You never have to guess what he wants. He’s more than happy to tell you. With Blaine it’s always a guessing game, and I always guess wrong.” He puts his soda can down, and stares sadly at the setting sun. “If I do something masculine with him, then I’m trying to make him straight. If I do something feminine, well, then I’m just catering to stereotypes.” He grins, and Burt didn’t think there was much resemblance between the two Anderson men before, but he can see it now: they share the same smile. “With Blaine, it’s like he could never figure out if he wanted me to treat him like a boy or a girl.”
“I’ve never treated Kurt like a girl,” Burt confesses; he’s done a lot of stupid shit with Kurt over the years, but he’s never done that. “I’ve always just tried to treat him like Kurt.”
“Like I said, you had it easier.” Mr. Anderson smiles. “I like Kurt.” He says suddenly, like he’s sharing some sort of secret. “He’s a good kid. You did a good job raising him.”
Burt frowns, unsure if he likes where this conversation is headed. “Blaine’s a good kid, too, you know. You don’t give him enough credit.”
Mr. Anderson softens. “He is a good kid. I know that. That’s the difference between the two of them, though.” Mr. Anderson stands, suddenly, and Burt has to look up at him instead. “Kurt’s a good kid because of you. Blaine’s a good kid in spite of me.”
He holds his hand out for Burt to shake, like they haven’t been sitting here talking for the past ten minutes. “Thank you again for the party. We had a wonderful time.”
He finds his wife and pulls her away from Mrs. Chang, waves at his son and tells him to be home at some point, Blaine, honestly, and then they’re gone and Burt is alone with his thoughts.
But he’s not quite alone, and if he’s quick enough he might be able to sneak a slice of graduation cake away before Kurt or Carole notices. He looks over and sees that--yes, Kurt is sufficiently distracted, if the way he’s laughing and pulling at Blaine is anything to go by.
He always thought Kurt had it bad, you know. Looking the way he does, acting the way he does. Blaine, at least, can pass as straight: no one looks at him and sees gay kid in the way they do with Kurt.
But then he thinks about what Mr. Anderson said--coming out like a car crash, unexpected and horrifying--and wonders, for the first time, if maybe he got lucky after all.
END?
A/N: I don't know what I'm doing help.