Note: This is dedicated to Cootisms, who made a comment that it would be awesome to have one more chapter with Burt and almost as soon as I read it, this epilogue came to be.

I'm sorry for misleading you guys earlier, but this truly was spur-of-the-moment! Hope you enjoy it, regardless!

Oh, and on a random aside, I am incapable of typing in text-speak. I can understand it more or less, but I am by no means fluent in it (yes, I'm a weird twenty-something who doesn't text). So, all texts are in complete sentences and the like. Apologies if that bugs anyone!

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Epilogue

When Kurt woke up the next morning, Mercedes was already up and about, fully dressed, beautifying herself and fluttering her fingers over her phone keypad.

He opened one eye, watching with a sleepy smile as she attempted to fix her hair while texting. He burrowed into his covers, drifting off again, and the next thing he was aware of was his best friend pressing a kiss to his forehead, whispering, "Rise and shine, pretty boy. It's time for you to shower – I can smell you from ten feet away."

Kurt groaned, blindly flinging the nearest pillow he could grab at her. She laughed, flouncing out of reach. Muttering to himself, he grabbed at the alarm clock on his nightstand, missing it twice before finally snagging it in his grip, and opened both his eyes. They were almost bugging out of his skull when he read the time. "Oh my God! It's noon!"

Mercedes grinned between giggles. "Yeah. My mom's picking me up on her lunch break so we can eat together before she drops me off at home. You wanna come with us?"

"Are you insane?" He leapt out of bed. "I have to bathe! And exfoliate! And –"

"All right, breathe, Kurt, breathe." Mercedes was still laughing. "I'll leave ya to do just that. Make sure you don't get into any accidents though – if you slip and break your head open in the shower, I will not be a happy girl." Some of the concern from last night crept back into her eyes. Kurt slowed down his whirlwind of motion, tossing his towel onto the bathroom counter as he walked back over and hugged her.

"I already promised to never worry you again – this applies to any and all household accidents."

She squeezed him tightly. "You can't promise me that, and I know it, so don't do it. But you can promise me that the next time you get a fool notion that no one cares about you, you'll call me first, so I can tell you what an idiot you are."

He smiled into her hair, nodding against it.

Mercedes pulled away, grabbing his hand. "C'mon, your shower can wait for a few minutes – let's head upstairs and wait from my mom together."

Kurt glanced longingly towards his bathroom, but obeyed her – honestly, he'd do anything for her right now. They reached the kitchen and Kurt let Mercedes fuss over him. She began the process of laying out a late breakfast that would satisfy him, and besides: "Taking a hot shower on an empty stomach is a sure fire way to end up fainting, you silly boy."

He nodded in-between bites of cereal as she cooked up a quick plate of scrambled eggs, toast and served him a glass of orange juice. Her phone buzzed as she put the food on the table, and she glanced at it. "That's my mom – I'll go and meet her at the corner, and you!" She pointed at his breakfast. "Make sure you eat all that!"

Kurt smiled warmly at her. "Every last bite, Mercedes."

She gathered up her purse, giving him a quick kiss to the top of his head as she made her way out. Kurt stood up to watch his best girl go, waving as she hit the end of his driveway and wandered away from view. He walked back to the table and then took a second to realize he didn't have his phone – a mistake he wasn't going to make again. He ran downstairs, grabbed it, feeling it buzzing in his hand as he did so. He stared at his screen – he had about seventy, no, wait, ninety texts waiting to be read.

The vast majority of them were from yesterday, and he sheepishly began to read them as he finished his cereal and started in on his eggs and toast.

He winced as he went through Mercedes' texts first – they started off calmly inquisitive, and then moved onto annoyed, then increasingly irritated and, finally, worried and angry. He kept a few of them, if only because the threats were . . . well, rather amusing (the one about emptying out all his expensive hair-care products in the bathtub, and then drowning him in them, was both alarming and funny to him, though he couldn't say why).

Quinn's were fairly calm all through out, though he noticed her tacking on a lot more 'please's as she got more concerned. He kept one of hers, if only because a small part of him still wanted tangible proof that the former head cheerleader was his friend.

There were various texts from Tina and Artie, and he saved all of those, because Tina and Artie had essentially been writing a mini-dialogue between them and the missing Kurt (for example: You're not at the Y, not that we expected that, but who knows? You did try out for the football team – maybe you're hiding some other jockish tendencies. If you are, you can tell us! We love you no matter what, even if you get all muscle-y and stuff!).

There were a few scattered ones from Santana and Brittany – he had to snort out loud at Santana's: You bitch, where are you? And Brittany's: Miss ya Kurtie, come home soon baby, xoxoxo. He saved all of those too.

Finn, Matt, Mike and Puck had also sent him a few texts each. Finn's were distinctly panic-filled and they sort of sounded like what Kurt would imagine a big brother did, which filled him up with a warmth that he didn't expect to feel: Your dad is going to kill me, Kurt, please come home! Not 'cause I'm scared he's going to kill me, but 'cause I'm worried too. I hope you're not hurt, dude. So yeah, please come home! And then there was: Man, I hope you get grounded for this! I've never been this freaked out over something!

Matt and Mike's were pretty chilled out, and he kept one from each. Puck's were rather funny too, and he almost snorted orange juice out of his nose when he read: Fairy, you owe me twenty bucks gas money. Unless you're actually hurt or something – then forget about it.

Rachel's texts were surprisingly short and to the point: Where are you, Kurt? We're worried! Please be okay! But the one he ended up keeping was one that put the biggest grin on his face out of all of them: We'll never be able to win next year's sectionals without you! And not just because we won't have enough members! You're extremely talented, and a good person, and I'm honoured to know you, so you have to be okay! I'll give you Defying Gravity next year at school, I swear on the talent of Patti LuPone!

He didn't know why, but he had a feeling she genuinely meant it, and that was amazing, for Rachel Berry. But he didn't want to take away Defying Gravity from her just because she had been so worried; that felt rather underhanded. He'd suggest to her and Mr. Schue that they sing it as a duet. That would probably be best – and there was no need to tell her he threw the note. He did it for personal reasons he didn't want to share with the world at large. It would be enough for him to hit that high F in front of her, letting her know exactly what he was capable of.

The next bunch of texts were from this morning, and Kurt read through them – they were mostly proposals for dates and times to meet up. He went one by one, sending confirmations out, and plotting them on his calendar as he received replies. He stared, once he was done, at his phone's planner – his entire summer had pretty much just been booked up. And he'd never been more thrilled to have little, if any, spare time on his hands. Not a single bored moment to be had.

He heard his front door swing open and leaned back in his chair far enough to be able to watch as his dad came in, holding a box of doughnuts. "Hey Kurt . . . wow, did you just get out of bed, kiddo?"

Kurt looked down at himself, feeling the disgust creep back up – he'd been so absorbed reading the chronicles of his disappearance, and then planning out two months of his life, that he'd completely forgotten about taking a shower and changing. He plucked at his pyjama top, nose wrinkling when he caught a whiff of himself. Ugh, he felt absolutely gross.

"Actually, I've been up for almost an hour now," he said, putting his phone down and finishing off the last of his breakfast. "Mercedes left a little while ago. How come you're home?"

His dad came into the kitchen, leaving the doughnuts on the table. He opened the fridge door, disappearing from view as he dug around, taking out some packaged leftovers from a restaurant. "I decided to do lunch at home today. Wanted to spend some time with you."

Kurt grinned happily. "I guess my shower can wait for a little while longer."

His father sat down at the table, and Kurt tried not to grimace at the sight of him eating cold leftovers. "Yeah, well don't hold back on that for too long. You're kinda ripe."

Kurt pouted. "Gee, thanks dad."

His father nodded, quirking a half smile at him. Kurt stood up to wash his dishes and cup. He poured himself a glass of skim milk, grabbed a plain doughnut from the box (because really, every once in a while wouldn't kill him), and sat back down across from his dad. There was a comfortable silence until his father finished eating, then, "So, since I'm here, you wanna tell me what all that was about yesterday?"

Kurt sighed. "Oh, nothing, just me being a total teenager. I imagine this doesn't come as a surprise to you."

His dad raised an eyebrow. "Not really, no. But that was pretty strange and stupid of you not to take your phone – Carole said the thing is like an extension of your arm, and she's right. And where the hell were you for nine hours?"

He fiddled with his doughnut, and decided that if anyone should know, it would be his dad. "I was . . . well, I was driving, and I almost got into an accident with this deer –"

His father leaned forward abruptly. "Damn it, Kurt, why didn't you say so! You know that head injuries can be tricky things, and whiplash is nothin' to –"

"Dad!" Kurt mirrored his actions from the day before, grabbing onto his dad's hands the same way he had Mercedes'. "Dad, I'm fine! Neither the car nor I have a scratch on us. Calm down."

His father eyed him carefully before slouching back into his chair. "Okay, what happened after that? And please tell me you didn't fall down a well next, or nearly knock yourself out with the tire iron like you did that time when –"

"Anyway," Kurt overrode his dad. "I went for a walk to steady my nerves and . . . I found this stream. It kind of reminded me of those times we went camping, remember? With mom and . . . you would never let me swim by myself, or light the fire –"

"Until you were almost eight," his dad finished, smiling fondly. "Yeah, I remember. I didn't think you did though. The last time I suggested we go camping, you made this face like I'd suggested we go skinny dipping in a lake . . . in winter."

"That's because you suggested we go camping not within an actual campground, but in the middle of nowhere – with shovels to make our own bathrooms." He shuddered. "I . . . I wouldn't mind going camping at the old place, though. Next to the stream."

His dad grinned widely. "That's a great idea – we can go one weekend this summer, just you and me, and maybe another weekend with Carole and Finn."

Kurt felt a burst of love for his father for suggesting they go together first. He seriously had one of the best dads in the world, hands down.

"So you spent the day swimming and stuff – that's fine, son, but you still haven't told me why."

Kurt shrugged, feeling embarrassment flourish anew as his face turned red. "I was being stupid. I thought I'd lost all my new friends, and . . . it made me depressed. So I took off to think and forgot my phone, and then . . . things just sort of took off from there. It was a random fluke of a day, dad. Nothing was planned and everything that happened felt out of my control. Except for realizing what an idiot I've been."

His dad shook his head. "Oh kiddo – you know, I'll be honest with you. I never really thought you'd be able to find good friends in this town. Not because you're not great," he rushed on to say, " 'cause you are – you're an amazing kid, an amazing person. But you gotta understand something about the people in this place, and I mean aside from the morons who don't know their ass from their face – and you'll find those anywhere and everywhere. I'm talkin' about the rest: they ain't so good with change . . . with things being different, and I think that's what you represent to them."

His father paused there, taking in a deep breath. "It made me feel like maybe we should move or somethin', to give you a chance to find somewhere you could fit in, but after your mom died, Kurt, I just . . . I couldn't leave the place that had her memories, you know? But I would've, if things had gotten any worse. I thought about it for a bit after that asshole called me up."

Kurt swallowed down tears. "You really thought of moving away from your hometown for me?"

His dad leaned over and ruffled his hair. Kurt didn't object because it was already messy to begin with and, right this second, he could let his father get away with anything.

"Kurt, the things I'm willing to do for you go way beyond a little move," his dad said intently before looking away. He adjusted his baseball cap and he cleared his throat. "And besides, you went and did the impossible, like you always do. You found Mercedes, and that Artie kid, and Tina. They're amazing, and special, just like you. I don't know how you found them, but you did. You're always proving me wrong, kiddo, in the best ways possible. Like with the football thing." A knowing smile was shot Kurt's way.

Kurt ducked his head, knowing that his face was flaming now, and that his eyes were watering.

"And then you join the national cheerleading champions, and sing that damn incredible solo that wins it for them again this year." He sounded so full of pride. "You've really got it made now, and I couldn't be happier. What in the hell made you think that none of this was real? It's all you, kiddo – you made it happen."

Kurt shook his head. "No, dad, Glee made it happen. I don't think any of these people would've talked to me if it hadn't been for Glee club. Like Finn."

His father shrugged. "Okay, so maybe Glee club was the way in, but the rest of it is just you being you. And you know what? I have maybe one friend from high school that I'm still real close to, and a couple of others that I call now and again to go out for drinks. Most of my closest buddies are from college and work. I think you've struck the jackpot, Kurt – I think you've made the kind of friends that last a lifetime. I can't imagine you without Mercedes. And that Quinn girl now. And Finn's buddy, Puck, the one that got his girlfriend pregnant? I mean, they're talkin' again, and that isn't normal for teenagers, Kurt – not really."

Kurt didn't think he'd ever heard his dad say so much at one time. He didn't even know what to say in reply that could even come close – so he didn't say anything, just nodded and smiled his biggest, most genuine smile. His father smiled back before teasing him with, "I hope Mercedes gave you 'what for' for this."

Kurt reflexively reached for the back of his head. "Oh trust me, she did. Repeatedly."

His dad snorted once, satisfied. "You've found yourself a great group of kids. Well, that Puck kid is still questionable for me, but he can't be all bad if Finn likes him. And if Mercedes dated him."

Kurt decided not to go into great detail as to why Mercedes and Puck dated, or really anything else about Puck – especially considering what he was about to ask his dad. Now was as good a time as any.

"Actually, speaking of Puck – do you think it would be cool if he came around say . . . tomorrow, and I started teaching him a bit about cars? He's looking for another part-time job, and I would really appreciate it if you gave him a chance, dad." Kurt followed this up with his best, wide-eyed innocent expression, with only the barest hint of pleading – he wouldn't overdo it; he needed to leave something behind in his arsenal in case his father said no.

His dad sighed, rolling his eyes. "Cut that out. Fine. But you better keep a close eye on him. And if he gives me any attitude, he's out, you got me?"

"No problem – I'm doing this as a favour, but if he decides to blow it, I have no issue telling him to find employment elsewhere," Kurt said decisively.

His dad stood up, throwing the now empty package into the garbage. "Good to hear, Kurt. I have to head back to the garage now – do you mind if I take your SUV? The truck's AC is acting up again, and I don't feel like it fixing it – I think it might take more time than I have right now. Oh, and did I leave my sunglasses in your glove compartment? I couldn't find them in my truck."

"Maybe, I didn't see them there – but go ahead, I'm not going anywhere today except my own homemade spa." Kurt dragged his hands through greasy hair. Blech, repulsive!

His father rolled his eyes again. "Right, well, please don't overdo it with the water. Do you have any idea what my water bill looked like last month?"

Kurt glowered. "Excuse me? I am not the one who stays in the shower on my days off, and listens to not one, not two, but three Mellencamp albums before I get out! On my portable iPod speakers, no less!"

"Nah, you just listen to that Gaggie chick until my ears bleed, and then proceed to use every last drop of hot water before most of us have woken up." Burt raised both his eyebrows at Kurt. "Wanna try and top that, kiddo? And please remember who bought you those speakers. And that car."

Kurt shrunk down into his seat. "Sorry. I'll see you later, dad."

His dad messed up his hair once more, grinning triumphantly. "See you later, Kurt."

And he walked off, leaving Kurt in a bit of a sulk, which was remedied when his phone rumbled. He grinned as he saw the happy text from Mercedes, inviting him out to a movie later that night, along with all the other girls.

It was hard to believe that at this time yesterday, he was out driving around, convinced that he had no friends, and no prospects for this summer.

Really things had . . . wait a minute! Had his dad said he was going to dig around in the glove compartment? Where, if Kurt was not mistaken, and he knew he wasn't, his boxer briefs were currently hidden? Oh crap.

He had no clue what kind of conclusions his father would leap to, seeing those there, but considering Kurt's luck, they would be the worst possible ones. The kind that would end with Kurt locked in his basement for the rest of the summer, if not his entire teenage life, before he could even get a word in. And, oh God, if Mercedes got wind of this before Kurt could explain it to her, he would be getting so much more than a few whacks to the back of the head.

He leapt up from his chair, already hearing the roaring engine of his SUV, realizing it was likely far, far too late, and his life was ruined unless he could get to that glove compartment first, or explain it to his dad – maybe he'd take the truck over, pray that his father hadn't checked the glove box between now and then, and then sneak into the SUV and . . .

Kurt whipped open the door and, promptly, any thoughts about underwear, fathers, and cars, completely and utterly vacated his mind. Actually, all thought, of any kind, was rendered impossible. His mouth went dry. Which was sort of funny because he felt like, at any moment, he was going to wet himself.

There, standing in all her track-suited, terrifying glory, was Sue Sylvester.

He blinked stupidly up at her, his jaw slack.

She stared sternly down at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes, and her megaphone at her side. She bent close. "Hello, Lady Face."

Kurt squeaked.

She nodded as if that was the appropriate response. "This is your first summer spot check. Know that there will be more and I will not tell you how many or when. Fear is the best kind of motivator." She raised her megaphone. "Wipe that milk mustache off your baby smooth skin and give me three cartwheels and a roundoff. Then I want you to give your best rendition of 'My Heart Will Go On' while doing them again. And after that, the real test begins!"

Kurt was in motion before he even realized what was happening, and he begged inwardly for any of his fellow gleeks to show up right now. Really, what good were friends if they showed up only when you weren't actually in any danger?

"Move it, Pear Hips! I want to see sweat, tears and possibly blood if you land wrong, because that's what you get for slacking off!"

And Kurt was suddenly wishing, as he did cartwheels on his front lawn for a maniac with a megaphone, still smelling like a jock fresh from a game, and looking as disgusting as he possibly could without rolling around in the mud like a pig, that his summer could be, at least in this moment, a little bit boring.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note: Okay, now it's done. I hope this epilogue was to your satisfaction, Cootisms, since it was your fault I wrote it :) But really, thanks for the idea!

And the whole thing with Burt potentially (and I say potentially, because who knows if he finds it? Maybe Kurt's panicking for no reason? *smirks*) finding the underwear in the glove compartment was entirely vcg73's doing. She said in a message, and I quote: "Just hope he remembers to retrieve his other pair from the glove box before Burt goes looking for something in his truck and gets the wrong idea about how Kurt spent his day! ;)" (I hope you don't mind me quoting you, vcg73)

And I hope you guys had fun with this and all the rest too! I'm thinking of writing a sequel that focuses on a few other gleeks, (which you may have gotten a hint of in the previous chapter), but I make no promises, since I'm leaving on vacation soon, and I don't want to leave you guys hanging! (Though, if I do end up writing a sequel or two, I promise to resolve the underwear thing ;) )

Again, you have all been great, and I appreciate everything: every favourite, every alert, every review and every reader! Thank you! :)

EDIT: And there's a sequel, called For a Little While, located on my profile.