Glee Fic: World's Greatest
Title: World's Greatest
Author: lookninjas
Fandoms: Glee
Pairing/Character(s): Burt/Carole, Blaine/Kurt, others mentioned
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Absolutely shameless Burt Hummel fangirling (and also a little Carole Hudson-Hummel fangirling, because best parents ever, you guys.)
Word Count: Just over 4500
Spoilers: Up to and through "Original Songs"
Standard-Issue Short-Form Disclaimer: I do not hold copyright to Glee, make no claims to such, and am not profiting from this. Burt Hummel is not my dad, although I wish he was.
Summary: In which Burt Hummel has several awkward conversations about sex, teenage boys, and the importance of knowing that you really matter to someone.
Author's Notes: The working title to this was "Burt Hummel is the Best Dad Ever." Like I said, guys, I'm shameless.
He has this mug that says World's Greatest Dad on it.
Elizabeth gave it to him back when Kurt was a baby. He'd been teething then, fussy and crying all the time, and that night, it'd been Burt's turn to spend the dark hours walking up and down with his son, bouncing him and rocking him and trying desperately to get him to calm down for an hour or so. At some point, too tired to stay standing, he'd sunk down into the couch, rocking Kurt against his chest until he finally started to quiet down a little bit, and Burt thought maybe he'd just stay on the sofa for a little bit before he tried putting Kurt back to bed. Except then his own eyes were closing, and he couldn't find the energy to force them back open again.
When he woke up, the sun was shining. Kurt was fast asleep, one tiny hand still clutching Burt's sweatshirt, and Elizabeth was smiling down at the two of them, with that mug in her hands, sending up little wisps of steam. The whole house smelled like coffee and cinnamon, like something sweet, and Burt was still exhausted from being up with his son all night, but it was a peaceful kind of exhaustion, safe and comfortable and warm.
Elizabeth crouched down next to the couch and pressed her lips to Burt's forehead. "Happy Father's Day," she said, still smiling, and held out the mug.
World's Greatest Dad.
Hell of a lot to live up to, when you think about it.
*
The thing is, he doesn't actually want Blaine to just walk away like this.
Yeah, the kid is overstepping a little bit, but he's also kind of right. Hell, Burt knows he should talk to Kurt about... sex, and relationships, and all of that. It'll be embarrassing for the both of them, and he'll probably manage to say about fifty offensive things in the first five minutes, and then Kurt will get mad at him and they'll fight, but every parent has to go through that, sooner or later. He doesn't get to treat his son differently just because Kurt's gay. In fact, the point is not to treat Kurt differently. To let him be the same as every other kid. And if embarrassing birds-and-bees conversations are part of the package, then they'd both better suck it up and deal.
And he shouldn't expect Kurt's friend to do it for him, and he shouldn't have needed Kurt's friend to tell him that some things can only be said by a parent. And he can't, can't just let the kid walk away like he's done something horrible for trying to make Kurt's life a little bit better.
"Hey," he calls out, straightening his baseball cap and wiping his hands off on his coveralls. "Hold up a second." Blaine stops just shy of the door, looking back at Burt; it's hard to tell from across the shop floor, but he seems a little nervous, maybe. Honestly, it's pretty impressive that he's here at all; when Burt was his age, he'd never have had the balls to pull a stunt like this. He can't help but think that these kids, kids like Kurt and Blaine... Well, they're just made of sterner stuff than the average, he guesses.
'Course, they kind of have to be, world being what it is and all.
Blaine watches with wide eyes as Burt crosses the shop floor, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his peacoat; he stares up at Burt when they're finally standing next to each other, and yeah, the kid's a little scared. Burt tries his best to soften his expression (hard, with an ugly mug like his); after a moment's hesitation, he even claps one hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Thanks," he says, and Blaine's jaw drops just a little bit. "For looking out for Kurt. I'm glad he's got a friend like you."
"Um. I." Blaine drops his head to stare at the floor, obviously embarrassed, but Burt's pretty good at reading profiles by now (Kurt's not always that good at looking his father in the eye when things get serious), and he can see the way Blaine's mouth tips up at the corner and his eyes crinkle, just a little. "Thanks, Mr. Hummel," he says, quietly, and for just a few seconds, he's an awkward teenage boy, no different from Kurt or Finn or any of the other glee kids Burt's come into contact with. It's kind of reassuring, in a way.
"Have a good day," Burt offers, dropping his hand again, and Blaine flashes him a quick smile before ducking his head and hurrying out of the shop.
Burt watches him go, and wonders if he should be suspicious of this kid. After all, he did find Blaine in his son's bed not that long ago, and although Kurt said they were just friends, Burt's gotta wonder at that. Especially if Blaine's trying to get involved in Kurt's sex life like this.
Except the way Blaine was talking about Kurt hooking up with some random guy at a party made it pretty clear that he didn't actually want that to happen, that he was genuinely worried about what that might do to Kurt. And he's probably not wrong. Kurt's so lonely sometimes; it'd be easy for someone to take advantage of that, and a kid as sensitive as Kurt is wouldn't be able to just shrug it off and keep going. It'd hurt him. It'd hurt him a lot.
And hell, it's obvious that Blaine's bothered by the fact that he can't talk to his own dad about this stuff. Burt doesn't want Kurt to feel the same way, like Burt's not comfortable with him. They've already had more than their fair share of problems with this; there's no point in making any of that worse than it needs to be.
Besides, didn't Kurt all but tell him to do this?
Burt takes a deep breath and heads back to the car he'd been working on. Time to finish up so he can go get... books, or pamphlets, or whatever. He and Kurt have a very long talk ahead of them, and he needs to learn some things first.
*
Kurt doesn't stick around long enough for Burt to actually make him his toast; he's bolting for the stairs, pamphlets in hand, before Burt's so much as stood up. It's not exactly surprising. Kurt tends to pull into himself the moment things get the least little bit embarrassing, and god knows this was embarrassing enough for the both of them, even if, overall, it went okay. Maybe they didn't talk about the mechanics of everything, or go into the nitty-gritty of STDs and condoms and all those other things, but Burt feels like the most important things got said. Without either of them having to shout, even. And Kurt was listening, and now he's thinking about it, and that's really all that Burt could have hoped for.
Still, he can't stop thinking about the look on his son's face when Burt told him that he mattered, like he was surprised to hear the words. He's pretty sure it's not something that he should take personally; after everything they've been through this year, Kurt knows (or he should know, anyway) that Burt meant everything he said about how he loves Kurt no matter what, how he'll be there for his son regardless. It's just... There's a lot of other people out there, telling Kurt that he doesn't matter, that his rights don't matter and his safety doesn't matter, and Burt's trying to drown out those voices as best he can, but he's not always that good at talking, can't always find the right words to say what he really wants to say.
Doesn't mean he can just stop, though. If anything, it means he just has to try harder, more often. Hell, that's his job, right?
He sighs, gets up, and heads for the breadbox. He can't solve all of Kurt's problems with a few pamphlets and five minutes' worth of conversation, but he's damn good at toast, at least.
Kurt's left his door open; Burt can hear him talking as he heads up the stairs, plate in hand. "It wasn't bad, per se," Kurt is saying, his voice a little higher than usual. "I just... I mean, was it this awkward for you? When you talked to your parents about this?"
Burt's a little surprised to hear Blaine reply, voice tinny as it comes through Kurt's computer speakers -- they must be using that internet thing, the video phone or chat or... whatever it's called. "Seriously, Kurt, have you met my parents? Talking's kind of not... It's not exactly something we do."
I don't have the relationship with my dad that you have with Kurt, Blaine had said. Burt's starting to wonder if maybe he wasn't exaggerating that much. Especially when Kurt doesn't argue or tell him that he's being ridiculous or say anything, and the silence stretches out, long and painful.
"It's fine," Blaine adds, after a while. It seems a little forced, maybe, although Burt's not really in a position to tell. "I mean, it sounds like it'd be pretty traumatic anyway, from what you're saying, so..."
"Yeah," Kurt says, but he sounds awkward about it. "Probably."
"I mean, not that... It's good, though, right? I mean, at least your dad is acknowledging that you're gay, and maybe you need a different kind of talk than... you know, just telling you not to get anyone pregnant. He's trying. It's more than I can say for --" Blaine cuts himself off there. "Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn't..."
"Rough day?" Kurt asks, and Burt turns on his heel and heads back down the stairs, still carrying that damn toast. Because Kurt needs to be reminded that he's worth something, that he's special, that he's loved, but right now, Burt feels like maybe he shouldn't be doing that where Blaine can see. Like maybe it would make Blaine feel less loved, somehow.
You think my dad built a car with me because he loves cars? I think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight.
Of course, just because that's what Blaine thinks his dad is thinking, it doesn't mean he's right. Hell, Kurt made out with that dizzy blonde from the Glee club because he thought it'd make Burt's life easier, make their relationship better. Still, though. Burt learned a few valuable lessons that week, about how he needed to be careful, make sure that Kurt felt included in things, not push him aside.
And Blaine's not his son, and it's not really Burt's place, but. Someone's got to worry about the kid. And if Burt's good at something, it's worrying.
Worrying and making toast. But mostly worrying.
*
"Maybe it's better, though," Carole says, staring up at the ceiling. "Waiting. I mean, Finn and I had The Talk when he was twelve, and I'm pretty sure he's forgotten most of it since then. Look at what happened with him and Quinn Fabray."
"Huh," Burt says, hands folded across his belly. He's pretty sure Carole's joking around, or at least trying to, but the whole Quinn thing still makes him grind his teeth a little. Not because she got pregnant, because that's not her fault, and not because she lied, because that's what kids do when they're scared, and not, really, because of anything she or Finn or even that Puckerman kid did. What gets to him is that her parents actually kicked her out over it.
Carole sighs, reaching across to place one of her hands over his. Their forearms brush, and it's the smallest thing in the world, but he can't help but think how much he loves her in these small moments. "Oh honestly, Burt," she says. "You didn't even know the Fabrays then. Which is a shame, really; I would have loved to unleash you on Russell and Judy."
"Unleash?" Burt turns his head to grin at her. "What am I, like a pit bull or something?"
She snuggles in a little closer, smiling back at him, fond and warm. "I was thinking more like a big, overprotective St. Bernard."
"So you're saying I slobber, is what you're saying. Because St. Bernards, that's what they do, right? Slobber all over everything? Like this?" He covers her face with kisses just because he can, just to prove his point, and Carole's still laughing even as she dries her face off with the corner of the sheet. And for a few seconds, he laughs with her, because he can't not.
Then they settle in again, her head resting on his shoulder this time, and his arms around her, and he realizes he's still thinking about it. About the Fabrays, and the Andersons, and all these different kinds of parents out there in the world. How some of them can just... abandon their kids, neglect their kids, not even caring about the precious, fragile lives that they've been entrusted with.
He doesn't want to think that Blaine's family is like the Fabrays. He doesn't want to think that they don't care about their son. But he'd be an idiot if he didn't at least acknowledge that maybe... Well. Maybe they don't. Or at least they don't care enough to love him the way that he deserves.
Carole laughs again, but it has a sadness to it. "You can't protect them all, you know," she says.
"Oh yeah?" Burt asks, squeezing her a little closer. "Says who?"
Carole just shakes her head, her hair tickling Burt's chin. "Go to sleep, honey."
*
Burt doesn't generally use the World's Greatest Dad mug anymore. Part of it's sentimental -- he's clumsy sometimes, drops things, and he'd hate to break anything that Elizabeth gave him. Mostly, though, it's just habit. Somewhere along the line, he started using the Hummel Tire and Lube one instead, and now it sits in the front of the cupboard and World's Greatest Dad lurks somewhere in the back, out of easy reach.
Sometimes, though, Kurt likes to bring it out of hiding, fill it up with Burt's morning dose of decaf, and present it to him alongside his breakfast. He does it every Father's Day, of course, and on Burt's birthday, too, but then sometimes he brings the mug out for no reason at all, or for reasons that Burt can't easily identify. Burt could be wrong, but he likes to think of it as a sign that he's done something right, that he's made his son happy, whether or not he knew it at the time. That it's Kurt's way of saying Thanks, Dad without actually using the words.
Kurt took the mug out the morning after he and Burt had their little birds-and-bees talk.
That's probably why Burt's thinking about it now, as he sits in this fancy coffee shop with a paper cup in his hands, watching Blaine stir sugar into his drink.
World's Greatest Dad.
"So," Burt says, and Blaine looks up at him, a little bit nervous, maybe. Burt can't really blame him for that. "I've been thinking about some of the stuff you said the other day. At the shop. And I'm probably overstepping right now, but..."
"It's okay," Blaine says, quickly, and kind of grins. "I mean, I figure you're entitled, right? After everything."
"Yeah." Burt leans back in his chair, studying the boy in front of him. "So. That thing you said, about how you didn't want Kurt to end up getting drunk at a party and fooling around with some guy." Blaine swallows hard, his hand closing and opening on the table; there's no more smiles now, not even nervous ones. Burt feels bad for even starting this conversation, but the thing is, he's kind of committed now, right? So he keeps going. "Kind of a weirdly specific story to just come up with on the fly, don't you think?"
Blaine stares up at him, his eyes a little watery. "Mr. Hummel, I --"
"I'm not finished," Burt says, and he keeps his voice mild, but Blaine goes still and silent, sinking into his seat and staring down at his cup again. Like he thinks he's in trouble, or something. Like Burt's gonna yell at him. Burt takes a deep breath and tries to stay as gentle as he can. "Now, I know a lot of guys would be perfectly okay with that, just messing around with someone they're not gonna see again. But it didn't sound like you thought that was such a great idea, at least not for Kurt. So I'm thinking maybe it wasn't such a great idea for you, either. That maybe... maybe you wanted something that mattered a little bit more. And I know it's not my place to say this, kid, but I think you deserve more than that. You deserve something that matters.
"And maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you just came up with that story out of nowhere. Hell, you probably did. And if you didn't, if that is what happened with you, you don't have to tell me about it, and I'm not gonna ask you. Because it's not my place." He leans in, arms folded on the table. "Just... if that is what happened, I'm pretty sure you didn't tell your dad about it. And so he never got the chance to say to you that you deserve better, and I figure... Well, maybe somebody should. Because you do deserve better, Blaine. You deserve so much more than that. And I don't want you to ever, ever let anyone make you think differently. No matter who it is."
Blaine doesn't say anything for a long time; he just stares at the table, one hand coming up to wipe at his eyes and holy shit, he's crying. Burt cringes, wonders if he should reach out, wonders if maybe he should get out instead, because he's obviously pushed too far. "Hey," he says. "Kid. Look. I'm sorry if I..."
"No," Blaine says, quickly, and it's obvious that he only just manages to make himself look up. His eyes are wide and watery, but his face is soft, grateful. Like he's never heard anything like this before; like Burt's just made his day. It's kind of a relief -- at least he's not expecting Burt to come at him with a shotgun or anything -- but there's something painful in it. "No, it's okay. I just..." He sniffles, wipes his eyes again, and almost smiles. "Thanks, Mr. Hummel."
Burt smiles back at him. "Call me Burt, okay?"
"Okay," Blaine says, his voice a little ragged, almost a whisper. "Okay."
Burt settles back in his chair, sips at his coffee, and watches the boy in front of him put himself back together again. And he thinks that, if his parents really aren't having these kinds of talks with him, then they're damn fools.
*
"Dad?" Kurt sounds unusually hesitant; when Burt looks up from his paper, his son's got his hands twisted up in front of him, fingers nervously tangled. But he's smiling at the same time, really smiling in a way that Burt doesn't see that often. "I. Um. I need to tell you something."
"Sure." Burt budges over on the couch, setting his paper off to the side so there's plenty of room for Kurt to slide in next to him. Kurt's all kinds of awkward right now, legs crossed, hands folded over each other, but he still looks so damn happy, is the thing. "What can I do for you, bud?"
"Um." Kurt turns a little pink, stares at his hands. "I have a duet," he says, finally. "For Regionals. With Blaine."
Burt's first thought is So that's what they're calling it these days, but he knows better than to say that out loud. "Good," he says, instead. "I'm proud of you, Kurt. And, you know, maybe I'm biased, but I'm pretty sure it's about damn time."
Kurt blushes harder, still doesn't look up at him. "There's more," he says, and Burt finds it surprisingly hard not to laugh. "Dad, I... Blaine and I, we..."
Burt rests one hand on his son's shoulder. "Like I said," he repeats. "I'm pretty sure it's about damn time."
"And I know that we don't talk about this often, but I..." Kurt finally looks at his dad, then, eyes wide, blushing furiously. "Wait. What?"
"I know you think I'd be happier if you just stayed away from boys forever," Burt says, squeezing his son's shoulder. "But that's not what I want for you, Kurt, and it never has been. Hell, I want you to have someone to hold hands with. Someone to... to go to dances with. All those things you and I talked about -- that's what I want for you. I just want you to get it from someone who's... who's worth it. Who's gonna make you happy. And if Blaine's that guy for you, then..." He shrugs. "If you're happy, that's all I care about."
Kurt swallows hard; his eyes are getting that liquid look to them, but even now, he's still smiling. "I'm happy," he whispers, voice choked up. "I'm really, really happy, Dad."
"Okay, then." Burt hauls his son in for a hug, Kurt tumbling into his arms and burying his face in his dad's neck. "You deserve to be happy, Kurt," Burt says, speaking low into his son's hair. "You deserve everything you can get."
"Dad," Kurt whispers, and clutches him harder.
Kurt's still crying a little when they break apart, but he's still smiling, too, and Burt can't think of the last time he saw his son this happy for this long. "We should go out to dinner after Regionals," Burt says. "All of us. And Blaine. You know, to celebrate the... uh. The duet and everything. Unless Blaine's already got plans with his folks; I mean, if they wanted to take him out or whatever, that's fine, but I just thought..."
"No," Kurt says, quickly. "That would be... I don't think he has plans. I'll ask him, though. Tomorrow at school."
"Okay," Burt says. "Yeah. Good. You do that."
Kurt looks at him, a little bit thoughtful, and he's so much like Elizabeth sometimes that it just breaks Burt's heart to look at him. "Dad," he says again. "I... Thank you. You know. For... the talks, and... and everything."
Burt can feel himself starting to tear up a little bit now, too; he pulls Kurt in quickly so he can't see it. "I love you, Kurt," he says, just barely keeping his voice steady. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," Kurt says, and it's so quiet that Burt can barely hear it, but it's enough. It's enough.
*
Burt had kind of figured that Blaine's folks would at least be somewhere in the audience for Regionals, that he'd get a glimpse of them afterwards, maybe even say "Hello," before they took Blaine and Kurt and Finn off to dinner. But judging by the way that Kurt heads straight for Burt afterwards, Blaine's hand clutched tight in his, neither of them looking around like there might be another set of parents waiting to congratulate their son, Burt figured wrong.
He can't imagine skipping out on one of Kurt's performances, especially not for a competition, and especially not when his son's got a solo. But he's not gonna say anything about it, either. It's not his place.
"You guys were great out there," he says, reaching out to clap Kurt on the shoulder. After a second's thought, he does the same for Blaine, too. "I'm really proud of you. Both of you."
"Thanks, Dad," Kurt says, smiling up at him. His face isn't quite as bright as it was when he and Blaine first took the stage, before they lost (and before that crazy cheerleading coach decked the governor's wife right in front of his son's stunned face), but he looks a lot happier than Burt would have expected.
It probably helps that Blaine is still staring at Kurt like Christmas has come early and every single present is more than he could have hoped for. Burt kind of wonders if he should be worried about that, but he figures it's a lot better than Kurt wasting his time chasing after someone who doesn't care about him. Blaine cares, a lot, and that's pretty much all Burt could have wanted for his son. Someone who cares.
Then New Directions is storming into the hallway, all of them bouncing excitedly and hugging each other, and as soon as they set eyes on Kurt, a chorus of voices calls out for him. Kurt looks back at Blaine, biting his lip, and Blaine lets go of his hand. "Go on, dummy," he says, fondly. "Get over there."
His smile only falters a little bit when Kurt vanishes in a sea of blue dresses.
"Gotta say," Burt says, putting his hand back on Blaine's shoulder. "I kinda wish you guys could've tied again. It'd make life a hell of a lot easier for me."
"No, they deserved this," Blaine says, jamming his hands in his pockets. "They were really great out there."
Burt shrugs. "Yeah, but so were you," he says. "And I meant what I said -- that duet thing. I really liked that. You're good together."
Blaine gives him a quick look, his smile turning a little hopeful. "You think so?"
Before Burt can answer, Mercedes is calling out to him, voice loud above the throng. "Blaine Warbler! Boy, get your butt over here right now. I have things to say to you."
"Better do what she says, kid," Burt mutters, using his grip on Blaine's shoulder to push him forward a little bit.
Blaine gives him a half-hearted glare, then straightens his jacket and heads towards the crush of bodies. Mercedes reaches out and drags him into a hug; Blaine is stiff and startled for only a second before he hugs her back, arms tightening around her. Then Rachel Berry dives in, and that Tina girl with the funny hair, all of them talking fast and excited about how good that duet was, and how he and Kurt sounded great together, and Puck was actually crying, all the while pushing Kurt and Blaine together until they're leaning on each other, laughing, surrounded by friends.
As moments go, this is a pretty good one.
"So," Carole says, coming up from behind to rest her chin on Burt's shoulder. "Do we approve?"
"Officially? Verdict's still out. Unofficially, though..."
Carole sighs and leans in a little further, kissing his cheek. "Unofficially, we're adopting Blaine by the end of the week?"
Burt grins. "How about we start by letting him visit more often, as long as the door stays open and we know in advance if he's going to be spending the night?"
"Works for me," Carole says, wrapping her arms around him. Burt lets his hands drape over hers, and he can't help but smile. Because he really is okay with this, with Kurt and Blaine being together. They seem really happy. And they're good kids; they deserve to be happy.
And he's gonna remind them of that every chance he gets.
*
The next morning, when Burt comes downstairs, he sees the World's Greatest Dad mug sitting on the counter again, and he smiles.
Author: lookninjas
Fandoms: Glee
Pairing/Character(s): Burt/Carole, Blaine/Kurt, others mentioned
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Absolutely shameless Burt Hummel fangirling (and also a little Carole Hudson-Hummel fangirling, because best parents ever, you guys.)
Word Count: Just over 4500
Spoilers: Up to and through "Original Songs"
Standard-Issue Short-Form Disclaimer: I do not hold copyright to Glee, make no claims to such, and am not profiting from this. Burt Hummel is not my dad, although I wish he was.
Summary: In which Burt Hummel has several awkward conversations about sex, teenage boys, and the importance of knowing that you really matter to someone.
Author's Notes: The working title to this was "Burt Hummel is the Best Dad Ever." Like I said, guys, I'm shameless.
He has this mug that says World's Greatest Dad on it.
Elizabeth gave it to him back when Kurt was a baby. He'd been teething then, fussy and crying all the time, and that night, it'd been Burt's turn to spend the dark hours walking up and down with his son, bouncing him and rocking him and trying desperately to get him to calm down for an hour or so. At some point, too tired to stay standing, he'd sunk down into the couch, rocking Kurt against his chest until he finally started to quiet down a little bit, and Burt thought maybe he'd just stay on the sofa for a little bit before he tried putting Kurt back to bed. Except then his own eyes were closing, and he couldn't find the energy to force them back open again.
When he woke up, the sun was shining. Kurt was fast asleep, one tiny hand still clutching Burt's sweatshirt, and Elizabeth was smiling down at the two of them, with that mug in her hands, sending up little wisps of steam. The whole house smelled like coffee and cinnamon, like something sweet, and Burt was still exhausted from being up with his son all night, but it was a peaceful kind of exhaustion, safe and comfortable and warm.
Elizabeth crouched down next to the couch and pressed her lips to Burt's forehead. "Happy Father's Day," she said, still smiling, and held out the mug.
World's Greatest Dad.
Hell of a lot to live up to, when you think about it.
*
The thing is, he doesn't actually want Blaine to just walk away like this.
Yeah, the kid is overstepping a little bit, but he's also kind of right. Hell, Burt knows he should talk to Kurt about... sex, and relationships, and all of that. It'll be embarrassing for the both of them, and he'll probably manage to say about fifty offensive things in the first five minutes, and then Kurt will get mad at him and they'll fight, but every parent has to go through that, sooner or later. He doesn't get to treat his son differently just because Kurt's gay. In fact, the point is not to treat Kurt differently. To let him be the same as every other kid. And if embarrassing birds-and-bees conversations are part of the package, then they'd both better suck it up and deal.
And he shouldn't expect Kurt's friend to do it for him, and he shouldn't have needed Kurt's friend to tell him that some things can only be said by a parent. And he can't, can't just let the kid walk away like he's done something horrible for trying to make Kurt's life a little bit better.
"Hey," he calls out, straightening his baseball cap and wiping his hands off on his coveralls. "Hold up a second." Blaine stops just shy of the door, looking back at Burt; it's hard to tell from across the shop floor, but he seems a little nervous, maybe. Honestly, it's pretty impressive that he's here at all; when Burt was his age, he'd never have had the balls to pull a stunt like this. He can't help but think that these kids, kids like Kurt and Blaine... Well, they're just made of sterner stuff than the average, he guesses.
'Course, they kind of have to be, world being what it is and all.
Blaine watches with wide eyes as Burt crosses the shop floor, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his peacoat; he stares up at Burt when they're finally standing next to each other, and yeah, the kid's a little scared. Burt tries his best to soften his expression (hard, with an ugly mug like his); after a moment's hesitation, he even claps one hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Thanks," he says, and Blaine's jaw drops just a little bit. "For looking out for Kurt. I'm glad he's got a friend like you."
"Um. I." Blaine drops his head to stare at the floor, obviously embarrassed, but Burt's pretty good at reading profiles by now (Kurt's not always that good at looking his father in the eye when things get serious), and he can see the way Blaine's mouth tips up at the corner and his eyes crinkle, just a little. "Thanks, Mr. Hummel," he says, quietly, and for just a few seconds, he's an awkward teenage boy, no different from Kurt or Finn or any of the other glee kids Burt's come into contact with. It's kind of reassuring, in a way.
"Have a good day," Burt offers, dropping his hand again, and Blaine flashes him a quick smile before ducking his head and hurrying out of the shop.
Burt watches him go, and wonders if he should be suspicious of this kid. After all, he did find Blaine in his son's bed not that long ago, and although Kurt said they were just friends, Burt's gotta wonder at that. Especially if Blaine's trying to get involved in Kurt's sex life like this.
Except the way Blaine was talking about Kurt hooking up with some random guy at a party made it pretty clear that he didn't actually want that to happen, that he was genuinely worried about what that might do to Kurt. And he's probably not wrong. Kurt's so lonely sometimes; it'd be easy for someone to take advantage of that, and a kid as sensitive as Kurt is wouldn't be able to just shrug it off and keep going. It'd hurt him. It'd hurt him a lot.
And hell, it's obvious that Blaine's bothered by the fact that he can't talk to his own dad about this stuff. Burt doesn't want Kurt to feel the same way, like Burt's not comfortable with him. They've already had more than their fair share of problems with this; there's no point in making any of that worse than it needs to be.
Besides, didn't Kurt all but tell him to do this?
Burt takes a deep breath and heads back to the car he'd been working on. Time to finish up so he can go get... books, or pamphlets, or whatever. He and Kurt have a very long talk ahead of them, and he needs to learn some things first.
*
Kurt doesn't stick around long enough for Burt to actually make him his toast; he's bolting for the stairs, pamphlets in hand, before Burt's so much as stood up. It's not exactly surprising. Kurt tends to pull into himself the moment things get the least little bit embarrassing, and god knows this was embarrassing enough for the both of them, even if, overall, it went okay. Maybe they didn't talk about the mechanics of everything, or go into the nitty-gritty of STDs and condoms and all those other things, but Burt feels like the most important things got said. Without either of them having to shout, even. And Kurt was listening, and now he's thinking about it, and that's really all that Burt could have hoped for.
Still, he can't stop thinking about the look on his son's face when Burt told him that he mattered, like he was surprised to hear the words. He's pretty sure it's not something that he should take personally; after everything they've been through this year, Kurt knows (or he should know, anyway) that Burt meant everything he said about how he loves Kurt no matter what, how he'll be there for his son regardless. It's just... There's a lot of other people out there, telling Kurt that he doesn't matter, that his rights don't matter and his safety doesn't matter, and Burt's trying to drown out those voices as best he can, but he's not always that good at talking, can't always find the right words to say what he really wants to say.
Doesn't mean he can just stop, though. If anything, it means he just has to try harder, more often. Hell, that's his job, right?
He sighs, gets up, and heads for the breadbox. He can't solve all of Kurt's problems with a few pamphlets and five minutes' worth of conversation, but he's damn good at toast, at least.
Kurt's left his door open; Burt can hear him talking as he heads up the stairs, plate in hand. "It wasn't bad, per se," Kurt is saying, his voice a little higher than usual. "I just... I mean, was it this awkward for you? When you talked to your parents about this?"
Burt's a little surprised to hear Blaine reply, voice tinny as it comes through Kurt's computer speakers -- they must be using that internet thing, the video phone or chat or... whatever it's called. "Seriously, Kurt, have you met my parents? Talking's kind of not... It's not exactly something we do."
I don't have the relationship with my dad that you have with Kurt, Blaine had said. Burt's starting to wonder if maybe he wasn't exaggerating that much. Especially when Kurt doesn't argue or tell him that he's being ridiculous or say anything, and the silence stretches out, long and painful.
"It's fine," Blaine adds, after a while. It seems a little forced, maybe, although Burt's not really in a position to tell. "I mean, it sounds like it'd be pretty traumatic anyway, from what you're saying, so..."
"Yeah," Kurt says, but he sounds awkward about it. "Probably."
"I mean, not that... It's good, though, right? I mean, at least your dad is acknowledging that you're gay, and maybe you need a different kind of talk than... you know, just telling you not to get anyone pregnant. He's trying. It's more than I can say for --" Blaine cuts himself off there. "Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn't..."
"Rough day?" Kurt asks, and Burt turns on his heel and heads back down the stairs, still carrying that damn toast. Because Kurt needs to be reminded that he's worth something, that he's special, that he's loved, but right now, Burt feels like maybe he shouldn't be doing that where Blaine can see. Like maybe it would make Blaine feel less loved, somehow.
You think my dad built a car with me because he loves cars? I think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight.
Of course, just because that's what Blaine thinks his dad is thinking, it doesn't mean he's right. Hell, Kurt made out with that dizzy blonde from the Glee club because he thought it'd make Burt's life easier, make their relationship better. Still, though. Burt learned a few valuable lessons that week, about how he needed to be careful, make sure that Kurt felt included in things, not push him aside.
And Blaine's not his son, and it's not really Burt's place, but. Someone's got to worry about the kid. And if Burt's good at something, it's worrying.
Worrying and making toast. But mostly worrying.
*
"Maybe it's better, though," Carole says, staring up at the ceiling. "Waiting. I mean, Finn and I had The Talk when he was twelve, and I'm pretty sure he's forgotten most of it since then. Look at what happened with him and Quinn Fabray."
"Huh," Burt says, hands folded across his belly. He's pretty sure Carole's joking around, or at least trying to, but the whole Quinn thing still makes him grind his teeth a little. Not because she got pregnant, because that's not her fault, and not because she lied, because that's what kids do when they're scared, and not, really, because of anything she or Finn or even that Puckerman kid did. What gets to him is that her parents actually kicked her out over it.
Carole sighs, reaching across to place one of her hands over his. Their forearms brush, and it's the smallest thing in the world, but he can't help but think how much he loves her in these small moments. "Oh honestly, Burt," she says. "You didn't even know the Fabrays then. Which is a shame, really; I would have loved to unleash you on Russell and Judy."
"Unleash?" Burt turns his head to grin at her. "What am I, like a pit bull or something?"
She snuggles in a little closer, smiling back at him, fond and warm. "I was thinking more like a big, overprotective St. Bernard."
"So you're saying I slobber, is what you're saying. Because St. Bernards, that's what they do, right? Slobber all over everything? Like this?" He covers her face with kisses just because he can, just to prove his point, and Carole's still laughing even as she dries her face off with the corner of the sheet. And for a few seconds, he laughs with her, because he can't not.
Then they settle in again, her head resting on his shoulder this time, and his arms around her, and he realizes he's still thinking about it. About the Fabrays, and the Andersons, and all these different kinds of parents out there in the world. How some of them can just... abandon their kids, neglect their kids, not even caring about the precious, fragile lives that they've been entrusted with.
He doesn't want to think that Blaine's family is like the Fabrays. He doesn't want to think that they don't care about their son. But he'd be an idiot if he didn't at least acknowledge that maybe... Well. Maybe they don't. Or at least they don't care enough to love him the way that he deserves.
Carole laughs again, but it has a sadness to it. "You can't protect them all, you know," she says.
"Oh yeah?" Burt asks, squeezing her a little closer. "Says who?"
Carole just shakes her head, her hair tickling Burt's chin. "Go to sleep, honey."
*
Burt doesn't generally use the World's Greatest Dad mug anymore. Part of it's sentimental -- he's clumsy sometimes, drops things, and he'd hate to break anything that Elizabeth gave him. Mostly, though, it's just habit. Somewhere along the line, he started using the Hummel Tire and Lube one instead, and now it sits in the front of the cupboard and World's Greatest Dad lurks somewhere in the back, out of easy reach.
Sometimes, though, Kurt likes to bring it out of hiding, fill it up with Burt's morning dose of decaf, and present it to him alongside his breakfast. He does it every Father's Day, of course, and on Burt's birthday, too, but then sometimes he brings the mug out for no reason at all, or for reasons that Burt can't easily identify. Burt could be wrong, but he likes to think of it as a sign that he's done something right, that he's made his son happy, whether or not he knew it at the time. That it's Kurt's way of saying Thanks, Dad without actually using the words.
Kurt took the mug out the morning after he and Burt had their little birds-and-bees talk.
That's probably why Burt's thinking about it now, as he sits in this fancy coffee shop with a paper cup in his hands, watching Blaine stir sugar into his drink.
World's Greatest Dad.
"So," Burt says, and Blaine looks up at him, a little bit nervous, maybe. Burt can't really blame him for that. "I've been thinking about some of the stuff you said the other day. At the shop. And I'm probably overstepping right now, but..."
"It's okay," Blaine says, quickly, and kind of grins. "I mean, I figure you're entitled, right? After everything."
"Yeah." Burt leans back in his chair, studying the boy in front of him. "So. That thing you said, about how you didn't want Kurt to end up getting drunk at a party and fooling around with some guy." Blaine swallows hard, his hand closing and opening on the table; there's no more smiles now, not even nervous ones. Burt feels bad for even starting this conversation, but the thing is, he's kind of committed now, right? So he keeps going. "Kind of a weirdly specific story to just come up with on the fly, don't you think?"
Blaine stares up at him, his eyes a little watery. "Mr. Hummel, I --"
"I'm not finished," Burt says, and he keeps his voice mild, but Blaine goes still and silent, sinking into his seat and staring down at his cup again. Like he thinks he's in trouble, or something. Like Burt's gonna yell at him. Burt takes a deep breath and tries to stay as gentle as he can. "Now, I know a lot of guys would be perfectly okay with that, just messing around with someone they're not gonna see again. But it didn't sound like you thought that was such a great idea, at least not for Kurt. So I'm thinking maybe it wasn't such a great idea for you, either. That maybe... maybe you wanted something that mattered a little bit more. And I know it's not my place to say this, kid, but I think you deserve more than that. You deserve something that matters.
"And maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you just came up with that story out of nowhere. Hell, you probably did. And if you didn't, if that is what happened with you, you don't have to tell me about it, and I'm not gonna ask you. Because it's not my place." He leans in, arms folded on the table. "Just... if that is what happened, I'm pretty sure you didn't tell your dad about it. And so he never got the chance to say to you that you deserve better, and I figure... Well, maybe somebody should. Because you do deserve better, Blaine. You deserve so much more than that. And I don't want you to ever, ever let anyone make you think differently. No matter who it is."
Blaine doesn't say anything for a long time; he just stares at the table, one hand coming up to wipe at his eyes and holy shit, he's crying. Burt cringes, wonders if he should reach out, wonders if maybe he should get out instead, because he's obviously pushed too far. "Hey," he says. "Kid. Look. I'm sorry if I..."
"No," Blaine says, quickly, and it's obvious that he only just manages to make himself look up. His eyes are wide and watery, but his face is soft, grateful. Like he's never heard anything like this before; like Burt's just made his day. It's kind of a relief -- at least he's not expecting Burt to come at him with a shotgun or anything -- but there's something painful in it. "No, it's okay. I just..." He sniffles, wipes his eyes again, and almost smiles. "Thanks, Mr. Hummel."
Burt smiles back at him. "Call me Burt, okay?"
"Okay," Blaine says, his voice a little ragged, almost a whisper. "Okay."
Burt settles back in his chair, sips at his coffee, and watches the boy in front of him put himself back together again. And he thinks that, if his parents really aren't having these kinds of talks with him, then they're damn fools.
*
"Dad?" Kurt sounds unusually hesitant; when Burt looks up from his paper, his son's got his hands twisted up in front of him, fingers nervously tangled. But he's smiling at the same time, really smiling in a way that Burt doesn't see that often. "I. Um. I need to tell you something."
"Sure." Burt budges over on the couch, setting his paper off to the side so there's plenty of room for Kurt to slide in next to him. Kurt's all kinds of awkward right now, legs crossed, hands folded over each other, but he still looks so damn happy, is the thing. "What can I do for you, bud?"
"Um." Kurt turns a little pink, stares at his hands. "I have a duet," he says, finally. "For Regionals. With Blaine."
Burt's first thought is So that's what they're calling it these days, but he knows better than to say that out loud. "Good," he says, instead. "I'm proud of you, Kurt. And, you know, maybe I'm biased, but I'm pretty sure it's about damn time."
Kurt blushes harder, still doesn't look up at him. "There's more," he says, and Burt finds it surprisingly hard not to laugh. "Dad, I... Blaine and I, we..."
Burt rests one hand on his son's shoulder. "Like I said," he repeats. "I'm pretty sure it's about damn time."
"And I know that we don't talk about this often, but I..." Kurt finally looks at his dad, then, eyes wide, blushing furiously. "Wait. What?"
"I know you think I'd be happier if you just stayed away from boys forever," Burt says, squeezing his son's shoulder. "But that's not what I want for you, Kurt, and it never has been. Hell, I want you to have someone to hold hands with. Someone to... to go to dances with. All those things you and I talked about -- that's what I want for you. I just want you to get it from someone who's... who's worth it. Who's gonna make you happy. And if Blaine's that guy for you, then..." He shrugs. "If you're happy, that's all I care about."
Kurt swallows hard; his eyes are getting that liquid look to them, but even now, he's still smiling. "I'm happy," he whispers, voice choked up. "I'm really, really happy, Dad."
"Okay, then." Burt hauls his son in for a hug, Kurt tumbling into his arms and burying his face in his dad's neck. "You deserve to be happy, Kurt," Burt says, speaking low into his son's hair. "You deserve everything you can get."
"Dad," Kurt whispers, and clutches him harder.
Kurt's still crying a little when they break apart, but he's still smiling, too, and Burt can't think of the last time he saw his son this happy for this long. "We should go out to dinner after Regionals," Burt says. "All of us. And Blaine. You know, to celebrate the... uh. The duet and everything. Unless Blaine's already got plans with his folks; I mean, if they wanted to take him out or whatever, that's fine, but I just thought..."
"No," Kurt says, quickly. "That would be... I don't think he has plans. I'll ask him, though. Tomorrow at school."
"Okay," Burt says. "Yeah. Good. You do that."
Kurt looks at him, a little bit thoughtful, and he's so much like Elizabeth sometimes that it just breaks Burt's heart to look at him. "Dad," he says again. "I... Thank you. You know. For... the talks, and... and everything."
Burt can feel himself starting to tear up a little bit now, too; he pulls Kurt in quickly so he can't see it. "I love you, Kurt," he says, just barely keeping his voice steady. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," Kurt says, and it's so quiet that Burt can barely hear it, but it's enough. It's enough.
*
Burt had kind of figured that Blaine's folks would at least be somewhere in the audience for Regionals, that he'd get a glimpse of them afterwards, maybe even say "Hello," before they took Blaine and Kurt and Finn off to dinner. But judging by the way that Kurt heads straight for Burt afterwards, Blaine's hand clutched tight in his, neither of them looking around like there might be another set of parents waiting to congratulate their son, Burt figured wrong.
He can't imagine skipping out on one of Kurt's performances, especially not for a competition, and especially not when his son's got a solo. But he's not gonna say anything about it, either. It's not his place.
"You guys were great out there," he says, reaching out to clap Kurt on the shoulder. After a second's thought, he does the same for Blaine, too. "I'm really proud of you. Both of you."
"Thanks, Dad," Kurt says, smiling up at him. His face isn't quite as bright as it was when he and Blaine first took the stage, before they lost (and before that crazy cheerleading coach decked the governor's wife right in front of his son's stunned face), but he looks a lot happier than Burt would have expected.
It probably helps that Blaine is still staring at Kurt like Christmas has come early and every single present is more than he could have hoped for. Burt kind of wonders if he should be worried about that, but he figures it's a lot better than Kurt wasting his time chasing after someone who doesn't care about him. Blaine cares, a lot, and that's pretty much all Burt could have wanted for his son. Someone who cares.
Then New Directions is storming into the hallway, all of them bouncing excitedly and hugging each other, and as soon as they set eyes on Kurt, a chorus of voices calls out for him. Kurt looks back at Blaine, biting his lip, and Blaine lets go of his hand. "Go on, dummy," he says, fondly. "Get over there."
His smile only falters a little bit when Kurt vanishes in a sea of blue dresses.
"Gotta say," Burt says, putting his hand back on Blaine's shoulder. "I kinda wish you guys could've tied again. It'd make life a hell of a lot easier for me."
"No, they deserved this," Blaine says, jamming his hands in his pockets. "They were really great out there."
Burt shrugs. "Yeah, but so were you," he says. "And I meant what I said -- that duet thing. I really liked that. You're good together."
Blaine gives him a quick look, his smile turning a little hopeful. "You think so?"
Before Burt can answer, Mercedes is calling out to him, voice loud above the throng. "Blaine Warbler! Boy, get your butt over here right now. I have things to say to you."
"Better do what she says, kid," Burt mutters, using his grip on Blaine's shoulder to push him forward a little bit.
Blaine gives him a half-hearted glare, then straightens his jacket and heads towards the crush of bodies. Mercedes reaches out and drags him into a hug; Blaine is stiff and startled for only a second before he hugs her back, arms tightening around her. Then Rachel Berry dives in, and that Tina girl with the funny hair, all of them talking fast and excited about how good that duet was, and how he and Kurt sounded great together, and Puck was actually crying, all the while pushing Kurt and Blaine together until they're leaning on each other, laughing, surrounded by friends.
As moments go, this is a pretty good one.
"So," Carole says, coming up from behind to rest her chin on Burt's shoulder. "Do we approve?"
"Officially? Verdict's still out. Unofficially, though..."
Carole sighs and leans in a little further, kissing his cheek. "Unofficially, we're adopting Blaine by the end of the week?"
Burt grins. "How about we start by letting him visit more often, as long as the door stays open and we know in advance if he's going to be spending the night?"
"Works for me," Carole says, wrapping her arms around him. Burt lets his hands drape over hers, and he can't help but smile. Because he really is okay with this, with Kurt and Blaine being together. They seem really happy. And they're good kids; they deserve to be happy.
And he's gonna remind them of that every chance he gets.
*
The next morning, when Burt comes downstairs, he sees the World's Greatest Dad mug sitting on the counter again, and he smiles.