Title: Getting Educated

Author: Jen

Rating: Teen

Notes: Set after 2.14 "Blame it on the Alcohol"

Burt, for all intents and purposes, did not think he was a stupid man. He'd gone to Ohio State, passed all of his classes, and made his parents proud. He'd been good enough with math to do his own books when the auto shop had first opened and he hadn't been able to hire an accountant, and then savvy enough as a business man to keep the place going through the years. Sure, he didn't think he was brilliant like Kurt, who spoke French fluently, and rattled off facts and details like they were nothing and took AP classes and was probably going to scholarship his way out of Lima, but he wasn't stupid, either.

Which was why, after he watched Kurt head off down the block for Westerville, the pursed look of Kurt's lips in a distinctly disappointed way, still fresh in his mind, Kurt went back to the room that was most frequently used as his home office, and booted up the computer.

The problem was, Burt wasn't really sure where to start, or how. He knew he needed the internet, but it was a big place, and he highly doubted going down to the library and asking the local librarian for help, wasn't going to do more than scar her, and maybe make her want to call the police on him. Burt was going for accepting, as far as his family went with the often less than welcoming town of Lima, and getting the police called on him was at the bottom of his to do list.

So he called Carole, and after explaining the situation, added, "So I don't know where to start, but Kurt's counting on me, so I can't let him down." The pleading was evident in his tone.

Carole tisked over the phone, then said, "This is Ohio, honey, but I'm sure even we have a few PFLAG chapters."

"Oh," Burt said a little dumbly.

"Honey," Carole added, "is there a particular reason why you're asking me about this? Is everything fine with Kurt?"

Burt floundered a little, and said a bit defensively, "Just fine. I mean, you know, it's tough, and I don't always know what to say, but I try, I really do. It's just, Kurt's a difficult kid. He'd be difficult even if he were straight. He's just difficult by nature, and sometimes he makes me feel … Carole, when did it get so hard to talk to our kids?"

She laughed, and the sound was sweet, reminding Burt of why he'd fallen in love with her. "Because," she told him, "ten years ago I'm sure Kurt could be placated by one good hug, and maybe a special treat from the store. Now he's old enough to recognize the harder questions in life, he wants to ask them. I'm still hoping Finn will catch up."

Burt frowned. "If I took him to the store, do you think Kurt would stop asking the hard questions?"

Carole laughed once more, reminded him of the PFLAG website, and then promised to be home in time for dinner.

The PFLAG website was equal parts terrifying and confusing. Burt wasn't particularly gifted with technology. He let Kurt fuss with the computer at the shop, and all Burt needed to know was if his client's information was safe. But contrary to what Kurt liked to joke about, Burt could navigate his way through the internet, and the PFLAG page was fairly straightforward. By the end of the hour he had signed himself up, was on the mailing list, and had been suckered into the PFLAG online store which was now sending him several buttons, a hat, a shirt and a bumper sticker. Burt was certain he was breaking out in hives.

As he'd discovered earlier, there were eleven chapters, to be specific, including one in Lima. There was also one in Westerville, information that left Burt feeling a little disjointed, because if there was a chapter in both towns, why hadn't Kurt thought to broach the subject before? After all, he and Kurt were constantly working to make their relationship better and better. PFLAG was another way to show how much Burt loved and accepted his son, and more importantly, a good place for him to get answers.

Meetings were held on the first Tuesday of each month, on the OSU campus, and although it was the middle of the month, with the days creeping towards the end of it, Burt resigned himself at that moment to be there, no matter how uncomfortable the entire situation was going to be.

Because, the way Burt figured it, as uncomfortable as the subject of homosexuality made him, for reasons of sheer ignorance and unfamiliarity, there was nothing that Burt wasn't willing to do for his son. Kurt was his world. He wasn't only the last remaining part of his wife that he had left to hold tight to and cherish, but also Burt's greatest accomplishment wrapped up in one pretty, precious package. Kurt was, in Burt's humble opinion, the best parts of himself, and the best parts of his mother, and an impossible creation of love, perseverance, determination, faithfulness and the very best qualities in people. Burt kind of figured Kurt was the kind of person that people needed to strive to be like. He was under no misconceptions that his kid was perfect, but as far as the word went, Kurt was going to get pretty close by the time he was an adult. So this, this PFLAG thing, it wasn't so much.

But the first Tuesday of March was still weeks away, and that meant an achingly distant Kurt on the weekends, his son flitting around the house with a guarded expression that Burt didn't like one bit. Burt knew for certain his first PFLAG meeting was going to make things better between himself and Kurt, and give them all the answers they needed, even to questions that hadn't been asked yet, and until then, Burt had the dos and don'ts.

PFLAG strongly discouraged any type of hostility towards potential partners. Burt was considerably lost when it came to the Blaine kid, who was, or maybe wasn't gay, and then maybe did, or didn't have the hots for Kurt, but Kurt liked him, and that meant Burt needed to lay off him. Instead he asked Kurt, "Why don't you have Blaine over for dinner next Saturday?"

Across from his father in the living room, feet tucked under him as he leaned on the arm of the couch, and with the TV playing on in front of them, Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Blaine? The same Blaine I'm not supposed to have over without your permission? Because we might engage in inappropriate behavior under your roof? That Blaine? The one that is clearly a danger to your sense of morality?"

The word morality sent up a red flag immediately, and Burt nearly missed the edge of disrespect in Kurt's voice. He disregarded it for a moment, remembering quite suddenly that PFLAG said morality was a big one, and not to put and emphasis on a right or wrong kind. Instead, the organization suggested a different route, one that Burt clung to tightly.

He hit the mute button the remote and said, "I love you."

Kurt seemed frozen, eyes narrowing a little in unease. "Have you been drinking?"

Outraged, Burt protested, "I have not!"

"Just making sure," Kurt eased out. "There's been a lot of that going around lately, and I, for one, will be glad to see it go. Alcohol is more trouble than it's worth."

While Burt was glad to hear that, he had to continue, "I love you and I love everything about you and I don't care about anything else. I will always love you, because you're my son and I'm your father."

"Are you sure you haven't been drinking?"

The following morning, while Carole hummed in the kitchen, Finn lurking just outside at the smell of pancakes, Burt tried, "I was thinking we could go to the mall today." Kurt like to shop, and he liked to shop even more with a piece of plastic that had Burt pulling extra hours at the shop. PFLAG insisted that different was good, and sure, Kurt was different because he was a boy who could spend longer picking out a pair of dress slacks than actually wearing them out, but that was okay. Burt was supposed to cater to the things about Kurt that were different from straight boys. Though to be completely honest, Burt wasn't a hundred percent sure that there was a direct correlation between Kurt being gay, and Kurt loving to shop. There was, he argued, a good chance that a straight Kurt could have ended up being just as in love with Giorgio Armani as gay Kurt was. There was no way to tell for sure, so maybe it wasn't even worth dwelling on it.

Kurt's eyes lit up and Burt through it was the most positive he'd seen his son with him in a week. Burt was feeling smug. And the smugness remained through Bloomingdales, at least until Burt returned to the dressing room to check up on his son, a shirt in a different side per Kurt's request draped over one arm and found his son standing in front of a full length mirror with a handsome and very male young associate circling him appreciatively. Burt thought Kurt ought to have been very proud of him, because he kept his composure for several minutes more, at least until said sale associate's hands settled on Kurt's hips, slid a bit, and then moved into unacceptable range under the guise of checking the fitting.

Kurt sulked the entire way home, and Burt repeated through his mind, PFLAG had coached him online, and his own negative reactions to anything associated with Kurt's homosexuality would only do harm. Burt wasn't prepared to hurt his son intentionally.

The website was fine, and really, Burt appreciated the extra help it had given him in trying to understand Kurt a little better, especially after he'd found Blaine in Kurt's bed and they'd had the disastrous confrontation a few days later. But it wasn't until Burt was at OSU, following the purple arrows that indicated the PFLAG meeting place, that he really felt he was getting the help he needed.

Kurt needed help talking about … sex … and Burt was determined to find out how gay sex worked so he could tell Kurt. Well, the details, because Burt knew how gay sex worked, he wasn't completely unmanageable, but he needed the facts and the diagrams and the notes. He needed lots and lots of notes.

He wasn't the only father at the meeting, and for some reason, that surprised him. Kurt had often said, particularly In the past year when the bullying had gotten even more intense, that it was difficult being the only out gay teenager in Lima. Burt didn't deny that, but looking at the gathered families at the meeting, he could confidently say that Kurt, at the very least, wasn't the only gay teen in Lima.

Burt couldn't let himself get sidetracked. He sat patiently and listen to the director of the chapter speak, and then participated in a group exercise that he didn't really see the point of, but did anyway. And then, after the floor had been opened to questions, most of them disinteresting to Burt, they were allowed to mingle. Burt made a straight shot for the director who was a tall, but thin man with mousey brown hair and welcoming eyes.

"Tell me about gay sex," Burt demanded. "I need to know everything."

To his credit, and yes, Burt did know he sounded pretty crazy, the director said, "Call me James, Mr. Hummel. And why don't you tell me first why you need to know?" His eyes were pointedly flickering to Burt's wedding ring.

Burt rushed out, "I'll bring my wife next time. She should be here too. And her son, Finn. I'll make sure he comes, because he should be here to hold hands, and get educated all this really important stuff that I'm sure will become relevant in the future."

"You've got a son," the director said a bit knowingly. "I can tell."

"I did say gay," Burt reminded. "Gay sex. Not lesbian sex. I know how that works." He had two pornos tucked away in the attic from his bachelor days. They were on VHS, and probably more than antiquated with the industry but Burt had seen them enough times to know the logistics of lesbian sex. In fact is seemed a lot easier than gay sex.

The director, James, Burt forced himself to correct, asked, "And your son is asking questions about sex?"

Burt shook his head. In fact he was pretty sure Kurt knew a whole lot more about gay sex at the moment than Burt ever would. Kurt was smart, and there was the internet. Burt had tried finding information on gay sex outside of the PFLAG website. It hadn't gone well. But he was certain Kurt probably wouldn't end up with an accident subscription to a website advertising naughty, kinky boys.

"No," Burt denied. "Kurt … my son, he's kind of …" Burt wanted to say Kurt was a prude. But really, Kurt was just so prim. Sometimes he reminded Kurt of the delicate heroines in the old black and white movies of old Hollywood. That was probably insult to Kurt's masculinity and some kind of offensive stereotype to his sexuality that PFLAG wouldn't approve of, but Burt thought it anyway. Because Kurt was kind of delicate looking, like porcelain, and so very breakable. Burt could see the more despicable of characters being drawn to Kurt in the future, and Burt was more worried about that, than if Kurt was going to be able to get married to the person he loved sometime in the future. "Kurt is very proper. He said I needed to get educated, in case he had questions, but I don't think he'd ever ask them, not with me."

"All the same," James supposed , "answers are never a bad thing to have."

Burt knew he liked the guy. "So, about lube. Kurt's really picky about stuff that comes in contact with him. Is there like … is there some organic stuff he can get? I know you gotta have it, when you have gay sex, so I have to make sure he can get some that he'll like."

James' eyes were a little wide and Burt settled down for the night. He had his notepad ready. Kurt had told him to get educated and Burt damn well sure was going to.

So maybe gay sex was more traumatizing than Burt had even begun to imagine. But it wasn't the details that made it traumatizing. Burt could handle the talk about preparation, and condom safety, and of what the prostate was, and position placement. It was way more traumatizing, and by traumatizing he meant terrifying, to learn that Kurt could be hurt very easily in the act. Gay sex, contrary to popular belief, was something you had to be patient with, and exercise control during. It didn't matter if Kurt was catching or pitching, there could be damage.

James got him books. James got him lots of books, and gave them to Burt in a plain, non descriptive paper brown bag at the next month's PFLAG meeting. Sitting next to him, Carole seemed supportive. She had a pile of pamphlets in her lap and was leafing through one curiously when Burt took a peak in the bag.

"Give them back whenever you're ready," James said. "And remember you can't sue me for emotional damages."

"I think," Carole said a week later, laying in bed next to him with her arms crossed, "that you're taking this a bit far." Burt pushed his reading glasses a bit further up his nose and turned the page in the book in front of him. "You've had your nose in that book for the past three nights. I'm starting to think you'd rather share your bed with it."

"I'm just …" Burt trailed off, squinting at something, "Carole, I didn't know there was so much to gay sex. This is …" he trailed off, hummed a little, and continued reading. Carole only sighed and she tried not to be upset.

After the third PFLAG meeting it was summer, and Kurt was home for the following two and a half months. Burt thought it was hard to miss him as Kurt stomped around and gave snappish comments to people, whether they asked for it or not. Apparently, and Burt only knew this because Kurt had let something slip to Mercedes, who'd told Tina, who'd told Artie, who'd blabbed it to someone, probably Puck, who'd let Finn know, Blaine hadn't even come close to manning up enough to ask Kurt out. Word had it that he was continuing to insist to Kurt that he was interested, but excessively reluctant to make any kind of move. Burt certainly thought Kurt looked like he was suffering from blue balls.

So one afternoon, with Carole gone to work, Finn out with friends, and Kurt huffy in his room over something Burt was a little too uninterested to inquire about, he gather his courage and decided that now was the time. He was going to let Kurt know he was ready. He could talk. He'd been schooled.

When Burt knocked on Kurt's door he kind of expected the delayed response he'd gotten. And Burt decided, because things were going to be a million times more uncomfortable in less than five minutes, that it was better to just burst into Kurt's room and deal with his temper, than to try and talk his way into the room Kurt coveted.

"Dad!" Kurt demanded when Burt was in the room. "What if I'd been … you can't just barge into my room!"

Burt crossed his arms, not at all surprised to find Kurt sitting at his vanity, poised at the edge of his seat and with a dangerously pissy expression on his face.

"We need to talk," Burt said, closing the door behind him. There was little chance anyone else would be home in the next few hours, but just in case, he wanted to give Kurt as much of a sense of privacy as possible.

"Forgive me," Kurt grumbled, "but I don't quite feel like talking at the moment."

Burt took a step forward. "Too bad, buddy, because I've been working up the courage to come talk to you for months now, and this is the moment we're going to do it."

"Do what?" Kurt asked carefully. He spun the chair he was seated on towards his father as Burt sat on the edge of the bed. "Talk?"

"I …" Well, Burt thought it was ridiculously ironic that now, of all times, that he couldn't find his voice. The one time he was most prepared to talk to Kurt, and his body was betraying him. "Look," he tried again, "when I found that kid Blaine in your bed-"

"-which," Kurt cut in darkly, "I explained to you was a byproduct of too much alcohol. Yes, we shared my bed, but our clothes were on the whole night, nothing inappropriate happened, and even if I'd wanted it to, Blaine was too dead to the world to do much more than snore."

Burt cleared his throat. "When I saw him in your bed, I kind of …. I guess I froze. I mean, I'm not completely a lost cause, Kurt. I know what being gay means."

"And what does that mean?" Kurt asked defensively.

With a causal shrug, something that wasn't causal at all, but that Burt had practiced a million times in the mirror, he said, "You're going to have boys in your bed. You're going to kiss them, and hug them, and sleep with them. Blaine won't be the last boy you'll have in your bed." God, that had come out flawlessly and Burt was so goddamn proud of himself. "What I want you to understand is, I freaked out because I kind of figured it would be a while before it would happen. I know you like to think you're all grown up, but you're still my little boy, and I hate to break it to you, but you probably always will be my baby."

"I'm seventeen," Kurt stressed. "I'm going to have boyfriends, dad. I'm going to be sexually active. It can't make you so uncomfortable you run away. And you can't hold me to a double standard. That's not fair. I know you don't think what you said to me, when we had that talk, was wrong, but it really hurt."

Burt argued, "It's not a double standard, Kurt. I wouldn't let Finn have a girl over in his bed, just like I won't let you have a boy. Not in my house, at least. What I was getting at, and what I think I really screwed up on, is telling you that it isn't because I don't trust you. It isn't because I have a problem with you being gay."

"Then what," Kurt asked carefully, "is it?"

Burt reached out and put a hand on Kurt's knee, squeezing tightly. "It's about this being our home. I'm your father and you're my son and we're a family. We have a lot, Kurt, we're pretty lucky, but the most important thing we have is each other. That means we have to run things by each other first. We have to be aware of each other. And we have to communicate. We have to. It's not a choice, not anymore."

"How can we communicate?" Kurt demanded. "You get … whenever I talk about …"

"Haven't I gotten better?" Burt demanded. He sure as hell thought he was a million times improved. He could listen to Kurt rant about Blaine for hours at end, and if that didn't mean something, Burt didn't know what did. "I'm not uncomfortable because of you, Kurt. You gotta understand that."

Kurt was silently a moment, his eyes adverted. Then he said, voice small and soft, almost whispery, "I just want us to be normal."

"Normal," Burt repeated flatly.

"Finn talks to you about girls and sex. I know, dad. Finn can't keep his mouth closed for three seconds, and it doesn't matter if I want to hear what he's saying or not. The point is, you talk to him about girls, but I can't talk to you about boys. Not like that. Not like with sex."

Burt nearly soared and he squared his shoulders and held up a hand. "I fixed that."

Kurt's head cocked to the side. "What does that mean?"

"Ask me something," Burt prompted. "Ask me something about gay sex."

Suddenly Kurt's face scrunched up. "No, dad. I don't want to talk to you about gay sex."

Burt had had a heart attack earlier that year, and his chest then, kind of felt like what it did now. Desperately, he demanded, "You don't want to talk about sex? You made that big stink about us not being able to talk about it, because I'm so ignorant and now you don't want to talk about it?" He got to his feet, so angry and so frustrated. "I think you should know, Kurt, that I went to three months worth of PFLAG meetings. I practically memorized the handbook they got me. I spent fifty dollars in the online store for stuff that I keep in a locked drawer at work because I don't know what to do with it. I've read six books, watches three videos, and tried to get through an audio tape, all about gay sex mind you, and you're trying to tell me it was all for nothing! No, I don't think so. I learned about gay sex, and now we're going to talk about it."

Kurt slid forward so quickly Burt couldn't catch him. And then he was frozen in his spot, his shoes probably too dirty for Kurt's well maintained carpet, as Kurt braced himself on his hands and knees and laughed himself sick.

"This," Burt said grumpily, "is not funny."

"PFLAG," Kurt gasped out. "You joined PFLAG? Dad!"

"Come on," Burt said with a groan, reaching down for Kurt and helping him to his feet. "How about you try and use that mouth of yours for more breathing and less taunting."

Finally, after was seemed like an eternity, Kurt sobered enough to breathe normally, even if he was still leaning against his father a little bit.

"I joined for you," Burt said a bit hurt. "Because I thought PFLAG was something that could help me understand you better. I thought they could make me a better father."

Kurt's hand tightened on his father's forearm. Seriously, he said, "You're already a great father. You didn't … dad … no gay friendly organization is ever going to make you a better father."

Burt's good mood was destroyed. "But you were right. I couldn't talk to you about gay sex before. If you had questions, I was worthless."

Blowing out a sharp breath, Kurt confessed, "I kind of know everything that I need to, and the stuff that I don't, well, it's for me to figure out down the line. I'm seventeen, dad, and I have a laptop."

And that about summed it up.

"I …" Burt felt nauseous. He wanted to be mad. He'd read all those books, and went to all those meetings, and now knew so much about gay sex that he could probably write his own how to guide. It was all for nothing and it felt so shitty.

"You joined PFLAG for me?"

There was so much vulnerability in Kurt's voice that Burt felt a surge of protective instincts. "Yes," he confirmed.

"For me?" And it really sounded like Kurt didn't believe that Burt was willing to join an organization to help support him. That stung worse than anything else. "I never thought you would agree."

"Why," Burt asked, "didn't you think that you could ask me to join with you? There's a Lima chapter, you know, and one up in Westerville."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Blaine's parents go to meetings up there sometimes. They're not … they're not like you, dad. They don't really accept him, but they are trying."

"You didn't answer my question."

Kurt threw his hands up a little. "Because you're … because I …" Kurt paused. "It's one thing to say you're okay with me being gay. It's another thing to jump on the bandwagon and put yourself out there like PFLAG will force you to do. And I'm already thankful for as much as you give me now. It's more than most people my age get. How could I ask for more?"

There was moisture in Kurt's eyes, and Burt's were stinging. He wrapped Kurt up tightly and felt his baby cling so tightly to him.

"You're my son," Burt mumbled into Kurt's soft hair. "You don't have to ask."

And that, Burt assumed, was when things got better.

Ultimately, and thankfully, they never did end up talking about sex. Because, after all, Kurt was right. He was seventeen and he did have a computer. Burt tried to put all of the gay sex out of his mind, which was as hard as he'd anticipated. But the PFLAG meetings, the first Tuesday of every month, remained, and they all went as a family, Carole and Finn included.

"So you don't want to talk about gay sex," Burt said when the new term at school was starting up in late August.

"You can just call it sex, dad. It sounds redundant in relation to myself."

Burt continued, "But we can talk about Blaine, if you want. You've been suspiciously quite about him over the summer."

Kurt had his bag with him and was minutes away from leaving for the school. It was dark out, proof of how late it was, and Burt hoped he got to Westerville quick enough to have a full night's sleep, and make it to class on time the next morning.

"I decided," Kurt admitted, swinging is bag up onto his shoulder gracefully, "that I'm going to be patient. If he's going to ask me out, then it should probably be on his terms, and I just have to be patient."

Burt supposed, "Or you could just ask him out." He really hoped he hadn't assumed something about Kurt and his preferences. It was just … gay or not, Kurt was a Hummel, and Hummels were supposed to go after the things they wanted. Kurt was certainly determined enough in everything else to at least prove he was capable of it.

As if he'd never thought of it, Kurt reiterated, "Ask him out?"

"Yeah," Burt shrugged. "You make the first move."

Kurt called home the following night. He told Burt about getting settled back into his dorm, about his new classes, and how he was taking Blaine out to dinner and a moving that next weekend, so he wasn't sure he could come home.

Burt assured him it was fine, wished him well, and then hung up the phone.

"What do you look so happy about?" Carole asked as she passed by.

Yeah, Burt decided. He was smart. Maybe he was even Kurt's level of genius. Even if he hadn't been able to be his newfound knowledge of gay sex to any kind of practical use, he still had learned something pretty important. And he was totally going to brag about it to all of the other parents at the next PFLAG meeting.