meus geminus (a handerson fourgy fic); part 04
Title; Meus Geminus (here on tumblr)
Warnings; Future twincest. yeah. Unbeta'd, mentions of parental death-by-drunk-driver.
Disclaimer; I don't own anything but the clothes on my back, Glee belongs to Fox, Everett and Cameron belong to the internet, etc. etc.
A/N; aaand the Hummels. 8(
part 01; part 02; part 03.
The first week of the twins’ lives, Kurt wouldn’t eat. Cameron, bigger, more robust, demanded more attention, leaving his younger twin shunted aside, and as Elizabeth busied herself with feeding Cameron, Burt took it as a personal challenge to get Kurt to swallow even a few mouthfuls of formula.
“C’mon, buddy,” he had whispered, cradling his tiny son on the rough denim of his knees, trying to coax the bottle into his little rosebud mouth. “You gotta fight, little guy, ‘cause Cameron’s gonna eat it all if you don’t.”
But Kurt rolled his head to the other side, feet kicking a little against his father’s stomach, and Burt sighed, picking the baby up and cradling him against his neck as he wandered into the kitchen. He needed some frickin' coffee.
What had the doctors said? Something about sugar water?
As the boys grew, this became somewhat of a ritual. When Kurt wouldn’t sleep, and Elizabeth was exhausted from chasing Cameron around all day, it was Burt who stayed up until 2AM trying to rock his smaller son to sleep. When some other kid pushed Kurt into the mud at the playground because he was so tiny and just wanted to twirl on his own, like the princesses he’d seen on TV, it was Burt’s arms to catch and comfort him, while Elizabeth tried to restrain their older boy from angrily hitting the brat in the head with a plastic dump truck. When Kurt wanted to be Cinderella for Halloween, it was Burt who took off work to scour all through town for the right dress and matching plastic dress-up heels while Elizabeth had fights with the other mothers about letting her child express himself.
That wasn’t to say he wasn’t close with Cameron. He was thrilled to have a kid actually interested in tossing around a ball, learning to swing a baseball bat, who could look out for his little brother, but Kurt’s delicacy and obvious burgeoning femininity took up more of Burt’s time and brainpower. He loved them both, but differently, and maybe the way he loved Kurt, who demanded hugs and kisses and tickles from everyone, while Cameron was more reserved about it, was a little more obvious.
So maybe Kurt grew up a little spoiled, because Burt couldn’t bear to see his clear green eyes (so much like his mother’s) well with tears. So maybe Cameron grew up a little bitter, a little less coddled. But in the end, he loved both his sons, and he loved his wife, and that was all that he needed, besides the garage and maybe a couple of weekly trips to that hot wings place a couple of minutes away.
Until it happened. Until everything changed.
------------------------------
The teachers had given them two weeks off of school, for the funeral and the therapy their aunt had not-too-subtly hinted about just after, and for the family, absent a key member, to settle into a new routine.
A routine that mostly meant Kurt’s face was perpetually red and blotchy, bursting into tears at the slightest notice, and Cameron lashed out, shouting at his father and brother and God, at his mother for leaving them, at the drunkard who slammed into her car and six others, at old Mrs. Darnell at church who smelled of potpourri and dogs and had tried to hug him one day after the service.
"She told us mom's in heaven, watching over us," Kurt explained quietly, while Cameron, fresh from a reprimand from Burt, threw things around in their room. "Mom's not in heaven. She's in the ground. If she was watching over us, I'd know."
Kurt refused to go to church anymore, and darted past his parents’ bedroom as fast as his eight-year-old toes could carry him on the way to the bathroom. He held his breath, refusing to look inside, and sobbed when his dad had asked him to get a tie from his top drawer for the reception.
Elizabeth's dresses were still inside there, he knew, and the carpet still smelled like her perfume, where he'd spilled a bottle, and the flowers dying in the vase by the bed were the same ones she'd picked from the front yard when they had gone for their last family walk. Her jewelry was still untouched on the nightstand, coiled and twisted from where she'd taken it off, choosing another set. The set that went into the ground with her.
“I’m not gonna tell you guys it’s gonna be okay, without her, ‘cause it’s not gonna be, for a really long time,” Burt had told them, holding Kurt close and gazing sorrowfully at Cameron, who had folded in on himself, hugging his midriff as he sat cross-legged on the countertop. “But we’ve just gotta push through each day, and in time, it’s- it’s gonna be… we’ll learn to live with just us, okay?”
That got Cameron’s attention.
“It’s not going to be okay!” he screamed, throwing himself down from the counter and barking his knee on the linoleum. “It’s never going to be okay and you’re just stupid for thinking it is!”
He fled, then, slamming the door of his bedroom shut, and Kurt wept into his father’s shirt, clinging tightly to his midriff. Burt ran a hand through his son’s short hair, straightened his bowtie and gave a deep, shuddering sigh as another sharp pain clenched in his chest.
“We all need to take care of each other, buddy,” he told Kurt, and Kurt nodded, choking on tears, and Burt, not knowing what to do, called Mrs. Jones from down the street.
They might be needing some of those casseroles, after all.
part 05
Warnings; Future twincest. yeah. Unbeta'd, mentions of parental death-by-drunk-driver.
Disclaimer; I don't own anything but the clothes on my back, Glee belongs to Fox, Everett and Cameron belong to the internet, etc. etc.
A/N; aaand the Hummels. 8(
part 01; part 02; part 03.
The first week of the twins’ lives, Kurt wouldn’t eat. Cameron, bigger, more robust, demanded more attention, leaving his younger twin shunted aside, and as Elizabeth busied herself with feeding Cameron, Burt took it as a personal challenge to get Kurt to swallow even a few mouthfuls of formula.
“C’mon, buddy,” he had whispered, cradling his tiny son on the rough denim of his knees, trying to coax the bottle into his little rosebud mouth. “You gotta fight, little guy, ‘cause Cameron’s gonna eat it all if you don’t.”
But Kurt rolled his head to the other side, feet kicking a little against his father’s stomach, and Burt sighed, picking the baby up and cradling him against his neck as he wandered into the kitchen. He needed some frickin' coffee.
What had the doctors said? Something about sugar water?
As the boys grew, this became somewhat of a ritual. When Kurt wouldn’t sleep, and Elizabeth was exhausted from chasing Cameron around all day, it was Burt who stayed up until 2AM trying to rock his smaller son to sleep. When some other kid pushed Kurt into the mud at the playground because he was so tiny and just wanted to twirl on his own, like the princesses he’d seen on TV, it was Burt’s arms to catch and comfort him, while Elizabeth tried to restrain their older boy from angrily hitting the brat in the head with a plastic dump truck. When Kurt wanted to be Cinderella for Halloween, it was Burt who took off work to scour all through town for the right dress and matching plastic dress-up heels while Elizabeth had fights with the other mothers about letting her child express himself.
That wasn’t to say he wasn’t close with Cameron. He was thrilled to have a kid actually interested in tossing around a ball, learning to swing a baseball bat, who could look out for his little brother, but Kurt’s delicacy and obvious burgeoning femininity took up more of Burt’s time and brainpower. He loved them both, but differently, and maybe the way he loved Kurt, who demanded hugs and kisses and tickles from everyone, while Cameron was more reserved about it, was a little more obvious.
So maybe Kurt grew up a little spoiled, because Burt couldn’t bear to see his clear green eyes (so much like his mother’s) well with tears. So maybe Cameron grew up a little bitter, a little less coddled. But in the end, he loved both his sons, and he loved his wife, and that was all that he needed, besides the garage and maybe a couple of weekly trips to that hot wings place a couple of minutes away.
Until it happened. Until everything changed.
------------------------------
The teachers had given them two weeks off of school, for the funeral and the therapy their aunt had not-too-subtly hinted about just after, and for the family, absent a key member, to settle into a new routine.
A routine that mostly meant Kurt’s face was perpetually red and blotchy, bursting into tears at the slightest notice, and Cameron lashed out, shouting at his father and brother and God, at his mother for leaving them, at the drunkard who slammed into her car and six others, at old Mrs. Darnell at church who smelled of potpourri and dogs and had tried to hug him one day after the service.
"She told us mom's in heaven, watching over us," Kurt explained quietly, while Cameron, fresh from a reprimand from Burt, threw things around in their room. "Mom's not in heaven. She's in the ground. If she was watching over us, I'd know."
Kurt refused to go to church anymore, and darted past his parents’ bedroom as fast as his eight-year-old toes could carry him on the way to the bathroom. He held his breath, refusing to look inside, and sobbed when his dad had asked him to get a tie from his top drawer for the reception.
Elizabeth's dresses were still inside there, he knew, and the carpet still smelled like her perfume, where he'd spilled a bottle, and the flowers dying in the vase by the bed were the same ones she'd picked from the front yard when they had gone for their last family walk. Her jewelry was still untouched on the nightstand, coiled and twisted from where she'd taken it off, choosing another set. The set that went into the ground with her.
“I’m not gonna tell you guys it’s gonna be okay, without her, ‘cause it’s not gonna be, for a really long time,” Burt had told them, holding Kurt close and gazing sorrowfully at Cameron, who had folded in on himself, hugging his midriff as he sat cross-legged on the countertop. “But we’ve just gotta push through each day, and in time, it’s- it’s gonna be… we’ll learn to live with just us, okay?”
That got Cameron’s attention.
“It’s not going to be okay!” he screamed, throwing himself down from the counter and barking his knee on the linoleum. “It’s never going to be okay and you’re just stupid for thinking it is!”
He fled, then, slamming the door of his bedroom shut, and Kurt wept into his father’s shirt, clinging tightly to his midriff. Burt ran a hand through his son’s short hair, straightened his bowtie and gave a deep, shuddering sigh as another sharp pain clenched in his chest.
“We all need to take care of each other, buddy,” he told Kurt, and Kurt nodded, choking on tears, and Burt, not knowing what to do, called Mrs. Jones from down the street.
They might be needing some of those casseroles, after all.
part 05