Fic: When Fears Are Realized (3/?)
Title: When Fears Are Realized (3/?)
Characters / Pairings: Vague Kurt/Blaine. Burt, Carole, Finn.
Rating: R (to be safe)
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for 2.15
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Summary: Burt's worried and Kurt doesn't understand why. Then Blaine shows up on their doorstep.
Part One | Part Two
Mr. Anderson breaks his gaze first, sweeping his eyes around the room before spotting his son. His gaze narrows and his lips tighten, as if the very sight of Blaine angers him.
Kurt pushes himself away from the wall at the same time Mr. Anderson starts forward. David has moved to stand in front of Blaine and Kurt silently thanks him for providing some semblance of safety.
“Wes,” Kurt says over his shoulder. “My dad’s in the parent lounge.” Wes is out the door before Kurt even finishes his sentence, giving Kurt one less thing to worry about right now. He focuses on beating Mr. Anderson to Blaine, determined to protect his friend.
“You son of a bitch.” Blaine flinches at the harshness in his father’s voice and Kurt redoubles his efforts, all but running across the room. He skirts around Jeff, who’s standing in shock in front of the fireplace, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering for him to find an administrator, quickly. He doesn’t look to see if Jeff’s following his orders because Mr. Anderson has reached the couch and is lunging around David and Kurt’s stomach plummets, because he’s too late.
“How dare you!”
“Mr. Anderson!” David’s pushing at the man’s shoulders, determined to get him back and away from both himself and Blaine and finally Kurt’s there, rushing around David to grab Blaine and pull him back, out of reach from the anger radiating from his father.
“Blaine?” Kurt asks, trying and failing to get Blaine to look at him. He places a hand on Blaine’s cheek, intending to turn the other boy’s gaze away from his father and into his own, but a loud yell stops him.
“Get your hands off my son, you fucking fag! You did this. He was fine and then you came here and now he’s talking crazy and stealing from me!”
“I didn’t steal from you.” It’s whispered, so low that Mr. Anderson almost misses it, but it’s clear he doesn’t when he focuses back on Blaine. Kurt keeps a hand on Blaine’s shoulder but flinches back at the anger being tossed at him.
“Keep your mouth shut, Blaine. And yes, you did steal from me. Anything you took from my house this morning is stealing,” Mr. Anderson has stopped reaching for Blaine, but paces in front of David like a caged lion, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
“I don’t... What? This is about clothes?”
“I couldn’t care less about your clothes, Blaine.”
Mr. Anderson stops pacing, turning to point an accusing finger at his son. David makes sure to step in front of him, keeping him from actually touching Blaine.
“What I care about,” he says, “is that you came into my home without my permission.”
“Your home?” Blaine asks, arms folded across his chest protectively. He takes a small step forward, and David shoots him a look over his shoulder. “It’s my home too.”
“No, Blaine, it isn’t. The minute you walked out last night it was no longer your home.”
“Walked?” Blaine asks. He’s dropped his hands down to rest at his side and is gaping at his father in shock. “I didn’t walk out of anything. You threw me out.” He gestures at his father to exaggerate his point, and Mr. Anderson looks back at him, eyes narrowed.
“You keep it up and I’ll throw you some more.” David takes the threat seriously, as he should, and puts out a hand to stop Mr. Anderson from moving. It doesn’t work, and instead Mr. Anderson knocks the hand away and throws out both arms, physically pushing David out of his way. The Warbler stumbles with the force of the push, turning his body to avoid the couch and instead crashing sideways into a table, sending a vase tumbling to the ground, where it shatters on impact. He winces, holding his side as he steadies himself.
Kurt, meanwhile, tries to use the hand on Blaine’s shoulder to pull him back a bit, but Blaine shrugs him off and steps forward. Kurt lunges after him, only managing to graze the back of his shirt before Mr. Anderson is there and grabbing Blaine by the upper arms, turning him and slamming him into the back of the couch.
“What is wrong with you? What did I do that was so wrong?” Blaine struggles against his father’s hold, groaning slightly at the sudden pain in his back, but the man just shifts his grip so his hands are pushing down on his chest, dangerously close to the junior’s throat.
“You know what you did! You know what you are and it’s disgusting. I could pretend... pretend that you weren’t utter filth as long as you never talked about it. But no, you just couldn’t go along with it.” His grip shifts again, and suddenly Blaine’s gasping for air that isn’t there and grasping at the fingers that have wound themselves around his neck.
“It was just a part, Blaine! Why couldn’t you just play your part?” Blaine wheezes slightly, trying desperately to force air into his lungs. He’s stopped pulling at his father’s fingers, realizing that it won’t help. Kurt’s there, trying in vain to pull the man away from Blaine, but nothing he’s doing is working.
He looks around wildly, wondering what he could do to help and sees the other few Warblers watching the scene in shock. Nick’s got his cell phone out and is rattling information away to who he assumes is the police. He jerks his gaze away from him when the doors slam open again and he wonders when they got shut.
It doesn’t matter though, because Burt is there, staring in horror at what’s taking place in front of him.
“Hey! Get your hands off him!” Burt strides across the room, gently shoving Kurt out of the way and grabbing Mr. Anderson’s shoulder to pry him away from Blaine. It takes him a moment, and Kurt has to step in and literally pry Mr. Anderson’s fingers away, but they finally do it and Burt drags the man away from the couch while Blaine collapses against it, sliding down to sit on the floor and pulling Kurt with him. Wes is kneeling beside them as well, and reaches out a tentative hand to place on Blaine’s shoulder.
Kurt moves to sit in front of Blaine, pulling his head up from where he’s buried it in his knees and cupping Blaine’s face in his hands. He rubs his thumbs soothingly over Blaine’s cheekbones and breathes a little easier when Blaine’s eyes meet his. Blaine’s gulping in lungfuls of air and Kurt worries for a moment that he’s going to hyperventilate.
“Blaine,” he says, voice soft. “Slow down. You’re okay. Just breathe, okay?”
Blaine brings his hands up to rest on Kurt’s, needing to hold onto him.
“K-Kurt?” His voice is ragged and that one word sends him into a violent coughing fit. He rides it out and ends up slumping even further to rest his forehead against Kurt’s chest, winding his arms around the other boy’s waist and just holding on. Wes looks at Kurt unsure of what to do and Kurt looks silently back at him, because he isn’t so sure either.
“Blaine,” Wes whispers to the huddled figure in Kurt’s lap. “Nick called the police, but we need to know if you need a hospital.”
Kurt has to tighten his hold as Blaine immediately shakes his head so violently that Kurt’s sure he’s given himself whiplash. He shushes him, running a hand through Blaine’s curls in an effort to soothe his friend.
“Okay,” he says. “No hospital. That’s fine. Do you want to get out of here?” Up ‘til now Kurt’s been able to ignore the raised voices from across the room, but he can’t ignore the sudden shout and thud of a body hitting the floor. He cranes his neck to peek over the back of the couch and sees his dad standing over Blaine’s, who has suddenly found himself intimately acquainted with the floor. Burt’s fists are clenched and he’s visibly holding himself back from inflicting anymore harm onto Mr. Anderson. The other man has a hand pressed to his face, blood trickling through the cracks in his fingers and down onto his oxford. He’s glaring up at Burt, disgust evident on his face, as if he can’t believe that Burt had the gall to punch him.
“Now you listen to me. I don’t care who the hell you are or how connected you may be. You will never talk about my son that way again. Actually, you know what? You’ll never talk about Blaine that way again.” Burt pauses here, running a hand over his head and glancing back at the boys, as if he’s reassuring himself that they’re still there.
“He is your son. It doesn’t matter who he loves or how he lives his life, he will always be your son and you are supposed to accept him for who he is.”
Mr. Anderson pulls his hand away from his nose, still glaring up at Burt.
“Not when who he is, is a dirty little fa-” He’s cut off as Burt takes a menacing step closer to him, fist raised in anger.
“Use that word again and they’ll be taking you out of here on a stretcher.”
Blaine slowly lifts his head from Kurt’s chest, blinking up at the other boy through wet lashes. He turns his head slightly to face the commotion, straightening a little to see over the couch, but doesn’t say anything.
“Blaine is an amazing boy. You should be proud of him, not trying to kill him.”
“Right.” Mr. Anderson slowly gets to his feet, rubbing his backside a bit where it had hit the floor. “Because you would be so keen to call him your son.” Blaine flinches at this, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to escape from the situation. Burt just stands there, staring at Mr. Anderson, eyes boring into the other man.
“I...” he stops again, looking back over his shoulder at Blaine, gaze immediately softening when he catches site of closed eyes and slumped shoulders.
“I would have been honored,” he says softly, “to call him my son.”
Kurt can feel Blaine losing control, his shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his emotions in check and Kurt quickly stands, pulling the other boy with him and dragging him toward the door and out into the hallway. As the door closes behind them, they can hear Mr. Anderson’s retort.
“Well then you can have him. I certainly don’t want him back.” It’s the catalyst to Blaine’s strength and he breaks, slumping in Kurt’s arms until they’re almost lying on the bench outside the commons. Kurt mumbles nonsense into Blaine’s hair, rubbing his back as he finally lets go of the sobs that have been threatening since Mr. Anderson first appeared.
Time passes in a blur after that. There are sirens and flashing lights, yells and accusations, steadying hands and whispered comfort. Through it all Kurt held onto Blaine, keeping him together just enough to get by. He stumbles through a statement to a curly-haired female officer, trembling as he does so, and immediately tucks his face back into Kurt as soon as he’s able.
It isn’t until they’re back at the Hummel-Hudson house and Blaine’s tucked safely away in the guest room that Kurt allows himself to break a bit. He’s curled up next to Burt on their sofa, head resting on his dad’s shoulder as he wipes ineffectively at the tears leaking from his eyes.
“I don’t understand,” he whispers into the warmth of the shoulder underneath his cheek.
“I don’t understand either, Kurt. I don’t think I ever will.” Burt reaches up a hand to brush lightly at Kurt’s hair. “I look at you, and I can’t ever imagine doing that. I may have struggled a bit in the beginning, but throwing you out? Forcing you from my life? It never even crossed my mind. It was never, ever an option.”
They sit in silence for a bit, both thankful for the other and reveling in the closeness they share. Kurt’s head lolls where it rests and he jolts back into awareness from the movement. Burt looks down at him, chuckling slightly.
“Thought I’d lost you there, Kiddo. You go on up to bed. I’ll check in on Blaine.”
Kurt nods, standing with his father and leaning in to hug him. He holds on tightly, needing the comfort.
“Dad?” he asks. “What happens now?”
Burt doesn’t say anything, just presses his face into Kurt’s hair, breathing in the distinct smell of home and safety and Kurt.
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “But whatever does happen, we’ll get through it together.” He pulls away, looking down at his son. “All of us.”
Part Four
Characters / Pairings: Vague Kurt/Blaine. Burt, Carole, Finn.
Rating: R (to be safe)
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for 2.15
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Summary: Burt's worried and Kurt doesn't understand why. Then Blaine shows up on their doorstep.
Part One | Part Two
Mr. Anderson breaks his gaze first, sweeping his eyes around the room before spotting his son. His gaze narrows and his lips tighten, as if the very sight of Blaine angers him.
Kurt pushes himself away from the wall at the same time Mr. Anderson starts forward. David has moved to stand in front of Blaine and Kurt silently thanks him for providing some semblance of safety.
“Wes,” Kurt says over his shoulder. “My dad’s in the parent lounge.” Wes is out the door before Kurt even finishes his sentence, giving Kurt one less thing to worry about right now. He focuses on beating Mr. Anderson to Blaine, determined to protect his friend.
“You son of a bitch.” Blaine flinches at the harshness in his father’s voice and Kurt redoubles his efforts, all but running across the room. He skirts around Jeff, who’s standing in shock in front of the fireplace, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering for him to find an administrator, quickly. He doesn’t look to see if Jeff’s following his orders because Mr. Anderson has reached the couch and is lunging around David and Kurt’s stomach plummets, because he’s too late.
“How dare you!”
“Mr. Anderson!” David’s pushing at the man’s shoulders, determined to get him back and away from both himself and Blaine and finally Kurt’s there, rushing around David to grab Blaine and pull him back, out of reach from the anger radiating from his father.
“Blaine?” Kurt asks, trying and failing to get Blaine to look at him. He places a hand on Blaine’s cheek, intending to turn the other boy’s gaze away from his father and into his own, but a loud yell stops him.
“Get your hands off my son, you fucking fag! You did this. He was fine and then you came here and now he’s talking crazy and stealing from me!”
“I didn’t steal from you.” It’s whispered, so low that Mr. Anderson almost misses it, but it’s clear he doesn’t when he focuses back on Blaine. Kurt keeps a hand on Blaine’s shoulder but flinches back at the anger being tossed at him.
“Keep your mouth shut, Blaine. And yes, you did steal from me. Anything you took from my house this morning is stealing,” Mr. Anderson has stopped reaching for Blaine, but paces in front of David like a caged lion, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
“I don’t... What? This is about clothes?”
“I couldn’t care less about your clothes, Blaine.”
Mr. Anderson stops pacing, turning to point an accusing finger at his son. David makes sure to step in front of him, keeping him from actually touching Blaine.
“What I care about,” he says, “is that you came into my home without my permission.”
“Your home?” Blaine asks, arms folded across his chest protectively. He takes a small step forward, and David shoots him a look over his shoulder. “It’s my home too.”
“No, Blaine, it isn’t. The minute you walked out last night it was no longer your home.”
“Walked?” Blaine asks. He’s dropped his hands down to rest at his side and is gaping at his father in shock. “I didn’t walk out of anything. You threw me out.” He gestures at his father to exaggerate his point, and Mr. Anderson looks back at him, eyes narrowed.
“You keep it up and I’ll throw you some more.” David takes the threat seriously, as he should, and puts out a hand to stop Mr. Anderson from moving. It doesn’t work, and instead Mr. Anderson knocks the hand away and throws out both arms, physically pushing David out of his way. The Warbler stumbles with the force of the push, turning his body to avoid the couch and instead crashing sideways into a table, sending a vase tumbling to the ground, where it shatters on impact. He winces, holding his side as he steadies himself.
Kurt, meanwhile, tries to use the hand on Blaine’s shoulder to pull him back a bit, but Blaine shrugs him off and steps forward. Kurt lunges after him, only managing to graze the back of his shirt before Mr. Anderson is there and grabbing Blaine by the upper arms, turning him and slamming him into the back of the couch.
“What is wrong with you? What did I do that was so wrong?” Blaine struggles against his father’s hold, groaning slightly at the sudden pain in his back, but the man just shifts his grip so his hands are pushing down on his chest, dangerously close to the junior’s throat.
“You know what you did! You know what you are and it’s disgusting. I could pretend... pretend that you weren’t utter filth as long as you never talked about it. But no, you just couldn’t go along with it.” His grip shifts again, and suddenly Blaine’s gasping for air that isn’t there and grasping at the fingers that have wound themselves around his neck.
“It was just a part, Blaine! Why couldn’t you just play your part?” Blaine wheezes slightly, trying desperately to force air into his lungs. He’s stopped pulling at his father’s fingers, realizing that it won’t help. Kurt’s there, trying in vain to pull the man away from Blaine, but nothing he’s doing is working.
He looks around wildly, wondering what he could do to help and sees the other few Warblers watching the scene in shock. Nick’s got his cell phone out and is rattling information away to who he assumes is the police. He jerks his gaze away from him when the doors slam open again and he wonders when they got shut.
It doesn’t matter though, because Burt is there, staring in horror at what’s taking place in front of him.
“Hey! Get your hands off him!” Burt strides across the room, gently shoving Kurt out of the way and grabbing Mr. Anderson’s shoulder to pry him away from Blaine. It takes him a moment, and Kurt has to step in and literally pry Mr. Anderson’s fingers away, but they finally do it and Burt drags the man away from the couch while Blaine collapses against it, sliding down to sit on the floor and pulling Kurt with him. Wes is kneeling beside them as well, and reaches out a tentative hand to place on Blaine’s shoulder.
Kurt moves to sit in front of Blaine, pulling his head up from where he’s buried it in his knees and cupping Blaine’s face in his hands. He rubs his thumbs soothingly over Blaine’s cheekbones and breathes a little easier when Blaine’s eyes meet his. Blaine’s gulping in lungfuls of air and Kurt worries for a moment that he’s going to hyperventilate.
“Blaine,” he says, voice soft. “Slow down. You’re okay. Just breathe, okay?”
Blaine brings his hands up to rest on Kurt’s, needing to hold onto him.
“K-Kurt?” His voice is ragged and that one word sends him into a violent coughing fit. He rides it out and ends up slumping even further to rest his forehead against Kurt’s chest, winding his arms around the other boy’s waist and just holding on. Wes looks at Kurt unsure of what to do and Kurt looks silently back at him, because he isn’t so sure either.
“Blaine,” Wes whispers to the huddled figure in Kurt’s lap. “Nick called the police, but we need to know if you need a hospital.”
Kurt has to tighten his hold as Blaine immediately shakes his head so violently that Kurt’s sure he’s given himself whiplash. He shushes him, running a hand through Blaine’s curls in an effort to soothe his friend.
“Okay,” he says. “No hospital. That’s fine. Do you want to get out of here?” Up ‘til now Kurt’s been able to ignore the raised voices from across the room, but he can’t ignore the sudden shout and thud of a body hitting the floor. He cranes his neck to peek over the back of the couch and sees his dad standing over Blaine’s, who has suddenly found himself intimately acquainted with the floor. Burt’s fists are clenched and he’s visibly holding himself back from inflicting anymore harm onto Mr. Anderson. The other man has a hand pressed to his face, blood trickling through the cracks in his fingers and down onto his oxford. He’s glaring up at Burt, disgust evident on his face, as if he can’t believe that Burt had the gall to punch him.
“Now you listen to me. I don’t care who the hell you are or how connected you may be. You will never talk about my son that way again. Actually, you know what? You’ll never talk about Blaine that way again.” Burt pauses here, running a hand over his head and glancing back at the boys, as if he’s reassuring himself that they’re still there.
“He is your son. It doesn’t matter who he loves or how he lives his life, he will always be your son and you are supposed to accept him for who he is.”
Mr. Anderson pulls his hand away from his nose, still glaring up at Burt.
“Not when who he is, is a dirty little fa-” He’s cut off as Burt takes a menacing step closer to him, fist raised in anger.
“Use that word again and they’ll be taking you out of here on a stretcher.”
Blaine slowly lifts his head from Kurt’s chest, blinking up at the other boy through wet lashes. He turns his head slightly to face the commotion, straightening a little to see over the couch, but doesn’t say anything.
“Blaine is an amazing boy. You should be proud of him, not trying to kill him.”
“Right.” Mr. Anderson slowly gets to his feet, rubbing his backside a bit where it had hit the floor. “Because you would be so keen to call him your son.” Blaine flinches at this, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to escape from the situation. Burt just stands there, staring at Mr. Anderson, eyes boring into the other man.
“I...” he stops again, looking back over his shoulder at Blaine, gaze immediately softening when he catches site of closed eyes and slumped shoulders.
“I would have been honored,” he says softly, “to call him my son.”
Kurt can feel Blaine losing control, his shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his emotions in check and Kurt quickly stands, pulling the other boy with him and dragging him toward the door and out into the hallway. As the door closes behind them, they can hear Mr. Anderson’s retort.
“Well then you can have him. I certainly don’t want him back.” It’s the catalyst to Blaine’s strength and he breaks, slumping in Kurt’s arms until they’re almost lying on the bench outside the commons. Kurt mumbles nonsense into Blaine’s hair, rubbing his back as he finally lets go of the sobs that have been threatening since Mr. Anderson first appeared.
Time passes in a blur after that. There are sirens and flashing lights, yells and accusations, steadying hands and whispered comfort. Through it all Kurt held onto Blaine, keeping him together just enough to get by. He stumbles through a statement to a curly-haired female officer, trembling as he does so, and immediately tucks his face back into Kurt as soon as he’s able.
It isn’t until they’re back at the Hummel-Hudson house and Blaine’s tucked safely away in the guest room that Kurt allows himself to break a bit. He’s curled up next to Burt on their sofa, head resting on his dad’s shoulder as he wipes ineffectively at the tears leaking from his eyes.
“I don’t understand,” he whispers into the warmth of the shoulder underneath his cheek.
“I don’t understand either, Kurt. I don’t think I ever will.” Burt reaches up a hand to brush lightly at Kurt’s hair. “I look at you, and I can’t ever imagine doing that. I may have struggled a bit in the beginning, but throwing you out? Forcing you from my life? It never even crossed my mind. It was never, ever an option.”
They sit in silence for a bit, both thankful for the other and reveling in the closeness they share. Kurt’s head lolls where it rests and he jolts back into awareness from the movement. Burt looks down at him, chuckling slightly.
“Thought I’d lost you there, Kiddo. You go on up to bed. I’ll check in on Blaine.”
Kurt nods, standing with his father and leaning in to hug him. He holds on tightly, needing the comfort.
“Dad?” he asks. “What happens now?”
Burt doesn’t say anything, just presses his face into Kurt’s hair, breathing in the distinct smell of home and safety and Kurt.
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “But whatever does happen, we’ll get through it together.” He pulls away, looking down at his son. “All of us.”
Part Four