So—somehow—I missed Kurt saying his name as "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel" and I somehow don't see Burt letting his son be named that. LOL and I saw a fic where Kurt's mom's name was Elizabeth, and I now think that could be an explanation for that, sadly, I've already made her name Kathleen in this. =( Ah well, this is just a little something on here. Oh, and these one-shots won't be in order. Some will take place in present, some in future, some in past. So it can go from past to future to present to back to past. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly.

Kurt Hummel tried not shift awkwardly as his father gazed hard at him, eyes roaming over his slightly purple face. Crossing his legs, thirteen year old Kurt folded his hands in his laps, raising his head slightly as he got ready for an assault of questions.

"Kurt," came Burt Hummel's gruff voice. "Are you going to tell me what happened or are we going to sit here until you tell me?"

The thirteen year old soprano frowned slightly, feeling his stomach knot nervously. He knew exactly why those neanderthals had hit him, and he could handle that; he was used to it. His dad's reaction on the other hand frightened him. What would the other man say? Would he be angry? Confused? He wasn't telling him everything, that was certain, he wasn't ready for that just yet.

He had known since he was five that he was different, but his father obviously didn't know anything about that. Kurt liked it that way for multiple reasons, the main one being he only had one parent and he didn't want that one to be angry at him.

Taking in a breath, Kurt began, "Karofsky and Azimio are nothing to worry about—they're oafs. They don't need a reason to bully someone and of course I'm their top pick, but it's been that way for years."

"Those brats," Burt grumbled, promising himself to talk to their parents. "And?" Kurt looked up at him, a slightly confused look on his face—which Burt could automatically tell was fake. "Kurt, don't jump around this. Why did they hit you? Did they have a reason?"

Kurt closed his eyes, lightly touching his left eye as he sighed. "I suppose… I somewhat goaded them, but you can't really blame me. They think red and yellow is fashionably appropriate—maybe if you're a McDonald's employee—and the way they talk, you would think they had been raised in a zoo of some sort—"

"Kurt," Burt interrupted sharply. "Stop dodging my question. Why did they hit you?"

There was a small pause. "It could be a number of things. Maybe the way I subtly insulted their lack of hygiene or how I said my middle name was Elizabeth, it could—"

"Wait, what?" Burt questioned sharply, hoping he had heard his son wrong.

"I subtly insulted their lack of hygiene?" Kurt smiled hopefully, turning a little bit paler as his dad looked at him like that. He was angry, disappointed. What if he knew? Kurt didn't think he could handle his father knowing just yet. Burt gave him a stern look and Kurt flinched slightly. "I may have said that my middle name was Elizabeth. I'm sure that's definitely what set them off if by the… certain names they called me is any hint."

Burt stared at him for a moment, before sighing and rubbing at his temples. "Kurt, why would you say your middle name is Elizabeth when it's not?"

Kurt had to hold back a large sigh of relief at his father not asking about the types of names. He wasn't ready for that conversation just yet. "Elizabeth is a much better name then Elijah. There are so many amazing women with that name. Elizabeth Taylor to name one and of course Elizabeth Arden—she's a goddess, I swear."

"Elizabeth Arden?" Burt asked, slightly confused.

"Skin care, Dad…" Kurt told him lightly, as if disappointed in a friend's obliviousness.

"Kurt," Burt began, staring hard at his son, still looking over his slightly bruised face, seemingly having an internal struggle with himself. Emotions placed briefly across his face, and Kurt was curious as to what they were, but said nothing. "Just don't go sprouting that anymore, okay Kurt? I don't want you getting hurt."

The teenager couldn't help but feel touched, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"You're my son." Burt leaned forward, ruffling the boy's hair, Kurt's eyes widening in horror as his hands immediately shot towards his hair.

"Dad! My hair!" Jumping up from his spot on the couch, Kurt whimpered. "It took me over an hour to get it just mildly decent after the incident earlier!" quickly running towards the stairs that led down into his bedroom, Kurt gave his best attempt to fixing it without a mirror.

Burt just stared after him slightly incredulously, but not at all shocked. Kurt had always been fussy about his hair and clothes, but as years passed, this was something Burt found himself never wanting to change anything about his son.

He would wait until Kurt was ready. He had promised that once he had come to terms with the fact his only son and child was gay. Many years ago, this would not have been okay, but Burt was thankful things had changed. He loved his son, just as he was.

And—he thought as he picked up the phone—he wasn't going to let some brats get away with hitting his son. They were Hummels, and the Hummel family stuck together because each other was all they had.