Title: Of Tiaras and Touchdowns
Author: Spider
Pairing, Character(s): Kurt and Burt. Some Tina and Brittany, but mostly Kurt and Burt
Rating: PG
Warnings: Manipulative Hummels
Spoilers: Acafellas and Preggers (episodes 3 and 4)
Disclaimer: DEFINITELY not mine.
Summary: Burt knows Kurt is gay, but he wants Kurt to be the one to tell him.
Word Count: 5649
Notes: This fic is dedicated to everyone who helped me find a transcript for the Single Ladies scene while I was away from my own computer. You know who you are! You guys are amazing!

Want to help me pick the next story I post? I've got three options right now (How Things Work will continue to be updated at its normal schedule): A) Parenting 101, a terrifying look into the psychotic Berry house before the Defying Gravity diva-off, B) Starshine, in which Brittany doesn't like always dancing in the back, or C) Untitled Fluff, in which Mercedes gets a date and Kurt's on the football team. Again.

Just let me know which one interests you the most, and it may show up in three days, when I'm in between HTW chapters again!

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OF TIARAS AND TOUCHDOWNS

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"Tiaras, Kurt?"

"You went through my stuff!"

"I was looking for a spare blanket. Thought we kept those in the chest in your room. Which we do. But tiaras?" Burt was standing in front of his son, one rhinestone-studded hairpiece hanging from his finger.

Kurt lashed out, snatching the tiara away from Burt's hand, his whole expression tight. Burt knew that expression well. It was Kurt's 'too tough to cry' face. "Well... well maybe I like tiaras!"

"Maybe I don't like you liking them!" Kurt flinched at Burt's words, just the smallest twitch, but it was enough to twist Burt's heart. He didn't back down, though. He couldn't. Tell me, just tell me...

Burt knew his son was gay. He had known ever since Kurt's third-birthday wishlist consisted of only one item: centsabull heels (Kurt later explained that even though he didn't know how to spell 'sensible,' he figured it had to start like cents (like pennies) and end like the animal). And if that hadn't been enough of a giveaway, there had been a thousand million other clues. Even the most oblivious father couldn't miss them.

But Kurt hadn't told him. And Burt couldn't just ask. Because what if Kurt was one of those metrosexual guys, those guys who were totally into girls but were otherwise gayer than a kite? Kurt was a very sensitive boy, and the last thing Burt wanted to do was make an incorrect assumption. So he had decided, years ago, that he wouldn't mention Kurt's sexuality until Kurt mentioned it first.

He was regretting that now. Kurt had first started noticing boys when he was twelve. Burt had seen the way his gaze would linger on preppy young men around town, and he had waited for Kurt to come to him... but Kurt had just locked himself away, growing distant. All through middle school, Kurt had avoided Burt, losing himself in high fashion and touring musicals. The two would sometimes go months without exchanging anything more than base pleasantries with each other.

But in high school, Kurt started talking to him again, started smiling again. Gone was the surly teenager, and in his place was a vivacious young man with a biting wit and flare for the fabulous. Oh, there were still some wrinkles, and Kurt would occasionally regress to the immature teenager all other high schoolers could be, but Burt was proud to see hints of the adult Kurt was growing into.

This was one of those teenage moments, though. Kurt had his chin thrust out, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, defiance exuding from every pore of his body. He held the offending tiara gently between his fingers, cradling it as if it needed protection from Burt.

"What else are you hiding from me, Kurt?" Burt demanded, trying not to clench his hands into fists. He needed to encourage Kurt to talk to him, not scare him off with threats of physical violence (not that he would ever raise a hand against his son, never. He never had, and he never would, but Kurt was a sensitive boy, prone to overreacting). "The sweater-dresses, the tiaras... your car!" He'd had to tow Kurt's Navigator to his shop after the Glee Club car wash today—someone had apparently thrown a rock through the windshield. Thankfully, Kurt had been outside the car when it happened, and he had been surprisingly calm when he called to let Burt know what had happened. "This has to stop."

Kurt's lips twisted in an all-too-familiar pout, his expressive eyes narrowing. "What, I'm not allowed any privacy anymore?"

No, you're supposed to tell me the truth, Kurt. Just tell me that you're gay, and we can fix this... "Not... not for... tiaras!" Burt knew the tiaras he had found carefully folded in with the spare blankets in Kurt's room were not the cause of his frustration. Hell, the boy could have frilly lingerie stashed away somewhere (and oh god, Burt did not need those thoughts), and Burt would still love him just as much. But Kurt needed to talk to him. This wasn't something Burt could bring up first. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Kurt's face was incredibly unattractive when he pinched it in that frown, Burt mused, his forehead furrowed, mouth small and tight, trying to kill with his eyes. "No," he answered, his voice dark and bitter. Burt grimaced, running his hand over his face.

"I didn't want to have to do this, Kurt, but you've left me no choice." Burt sighed, opening his eyes to look at Kurt. "I'll fix your car, but then I'm keeping the keys."

"What!" The bitterness was gone from Kurt's face, replaced with shock. "You can't do that! You gave me that car!"

"In exchange for a promise, Kurt, a promise which you broke!" Burt gestured at the tiara. "I gave you that car, and I'm taking it away. I need to know I can trust you, Kurt, before I trust you with a vehicle."

"This is completely unfair!"

"Well, too bad!" You won't let me have the real talk I want with you, Kurt. I want to sit you down and tell you how scared I am that the next time someone throws a brick at your car, you'll be behind the wheel. You'll be in an accident. You'll die. Because you're gay. And I want to tell you that I'm scared, and tell you to be careful, and tell you that I love you... but you just won't tell me. I need you to tell me! "You can have your car back when I say you can, and not a day sooner."

"Sometimes, I really dislike you," Kurt snapped, twisting on his heel and stalking off. Burt groaned only after he heard Kurt's basement door slam. At least Kurt never declared his hatred for Burt, even after everything Burt knew he put the kid through (they had talked about hate, when Kurt's mother died, and Burt had explained how hate was a poison, and you should try to never hate. Dislike was okay, but don't hate people. People can make mistakes and do stupid things. Kurt had apparently taken that talk to heart).

Burt was doing everything he could to not make it easy for Kurt to stay in the closet. Sometimes, like now, it really hurt. But it's for his own good. He just had to keep believing that. Kurt's life would never be easy, but it would be easier if he was only open and honest with Burt. Burt would be able to help him, if Kurt only let him know...

And that was Burt's reasoning behind all the snooping he did, behind the heavy-handed approach he took to parenting. Burt didn't poke through Kurt's things in the hopes of finding porn (or, god help him, sex toys). He just wanted to find things that would open a dialogue with Kurt. Things they could use to start a conversation. Ways to give Kurt the opening he would need to come out to Burt.

And that was why, when Burt came home early for a Deadliest Catch special (the perks of being the majority owner of your own business) to hear music blasting from Kurt's room, he rubbed his hands over his face and headed downstairs. Dear God, please don't let me catch him having sex... Kurt wouldn't be expecting Burt home for another hour, at least, and if he had brought over a boy...

Burt never bothered to knock when he entered Kurt's room. Kurt never bothered to knock when he entered Burt's (though he would knock to get his dad's attention). Burt closed his eyes and stepped down the stairs. He didn't even need to be quiet, with how loud Kurt's music was.

Thankfully, thankfully, Kurt was upright and fully dressed. And there were two girls in the room with him, both of whom were also upright (though not so fully dressed, Burt noticed). All three teens had their back to the stairs and were unmistakably dancing in front of a video camera. Dear God, Burt thought. Is he going to put this on YouTube?

But... dancing. To a woman's song. And from the looks of it, Kurt was playing the part of the woman. Burt took a deep breath and reached over to shut off Kurt's music.

All three teens turned around, and Kurt's face went absolutely white. "Dad!" At least he didn't squeak, and he was already recovering his composure. "You're home early..."

"Deadliest Catch is on," Burt answered, slowly looking Kurt over. The two girls were wearing leotards (Kurt had been through enough dance classes for Burt to recognize dancewear) and heels, but Kurt... Kurt had gone all out with a sequined jacket and just one glove (Please say he wasn't trying to imitate Michael Jackson) and a tie around his neck even though his shirt had no collar... and it was all done in black. "What are you wearing?"

"It's a unitard," Kurt answered weakly. Burt could just see his son's mind working away behind those pale eyes, frantically trying to make up a plausible excuse. "Guys wear them to, uh, work out nowadays. Do sports. They wick sweat from the body." Burt frowned, reaching out to give Kurt's unitard a tug, letting it snap back against his son's chest. Gay. Just say it. You are gay.

"F-f-f-football!" the dark-haired girl stuttered out, earning her a frantic glance from Kurt before he was smiling again, giving Burt a nod.

"Yeah, all the guys in football wear them. Very jock-chic..." And there it was, the little smile, the slight widening of his eyes, the jut of his hip—did Kurt even realize how much his body language was telling Burt he was lying?

"Totally," the blonde girl said, looking over at Kurt, sounding just a step out of line with the other two. "Kurt's on the football team now."

That was a lie. Burt didn't even need Kurt's panicked stare at the blonde to know it. But she kept on talking, oblivious to Kurt's distress. "He's the kicker. That's the smallest guy on the field, right?"

Somebody needed to teach blondie how to lie. Kurt was only just barely managing to keep from gaping at her, but Burt feigned his own obliviousness. This was a massive whopper of a lie, and nothing like Kurt had ever done before. Maybe it would be enough... Kurt was a good kid. He more often than not guilted himself into coming clean about mistakes without Burt needing to threaten punishments. If Burt made him keep up this lie, it might just be enough to break Kurt into telling him the truth, and then they could finally clear the air between them.

"Ye-yeah," Kurt said, tearing his eyes away from the blonde to look back at Burt. "Brit and Tina were just... helping me with some conditioning work..."

In sequins? Burt didn't voice his thoughts, just kept up the Dad-stare that was almost managing to make Kurt squirm. He could tell by his boy's eyes. "Really?" Please believe me! Kurt's eyes were begging. "You know, I played in JC. Before I busted up my knee popping wheelies on my dirtbike."

Kurt was gaping at Burt now, as if he didn't believe Burt was going along with the lie. "Cool," he said, clearly fumbling for words just as he fumbled with his tie. "I... guess we'll have something to talk about then..." He gave a very nervous laugh, to which Burt only nodded.

"So," he said, looking at the girls now: Brit and Tina, "one of you two his girlfriend?" Oh yes, Kurt. I will get you to tell me the truth...

Blondie rolled her eyes disgustedly, and Burt wanted to shove her out of the house for that alone. She would be lucky to have a boy like his son (and not just because Kurt would never take advantage of her). Kurt, however, ignored Blondie's look and reached over to grab the other girl around the waist, inadvertently smacking her butt in the process as he fumbled her close. "But I'm not ready to be exclusive just yet," he said smoothly, as if that explained why Burt had never heard Kurt mention either girl before.

Burt kept up his Dad-stare for another minute, noting the growing panic in Kurt's eyes. But Kurt didn't fidget and he didn't break, so Burt relented. "All right. Just keep the music down. I can't hear myself think up there."

Kurt nodded as Burt turned to leave. He had to be feeling like this was a victory. But Burt wasn't done just yet. He turned around at the stairs, looking back at Kurt. "Hey Kurt? Be sure to get me a ticket to your first game."

Kurt nodded again, a weak, obviously fake smile quirking his mouth up for a moment. Burt turned away and headed back upstairs. If you're going to lie to me, I'm going to make it impossible for you.

If only Kurt would just talk to him! Burt really didn't like putting his son through all this additional stress on top of what he knew Kurt had to suffer through at school, but until Kurt came out to him...

Burt sighed, tugging his cap off so he could rub his hand over his head. His thoughts just went around and around in circles these days. But at least this wasn't a lie Kurt could bluff his way out of. Either he would produce a ticket to a football game or he wouldn't.

.

.

Kurt was practically bursting with pride when he came to the garage after school the next Wednesday. He set the usual box of mid-afternoon pickmeup doughnuts on the counter by the coffeemaker and immediately started digging in his man-purse.

"Diggin' for gold there?" Burt asked, flipping the pink box open to grab his favorite cream-filled one. Kurt never failed to remember what everyone at the garage loved.

"I got something for you!" Kurt pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, drawing a ticket out and passing it over to Burt.

Burt wiped his hand off on the grease rag tucked in his pocket before taking the ticket from Kurt. "What play're you dragging me off to this time?" he asked, looking down to read the name.

Except it wasn't a ticket for whatever Broadway tour was passing through Ohio. It was a ticket for a high school football game. Burt looked sharply up at Kurt, who beamed back at him. "You wanted a ticket for my first game..."

Burt looked down at the ticket again, speechless. This meant... Kurt, his little Kurt, who had never once shown an interest in sports, was actually on the football team! How the hell did he pull that off? Because Burt knew that Kurt wouldn't half-ass this—if Kurt was giving Burt a ticket to the game, Kurt would be at that game, in uniform, even if he did nothing more than sit on the bench for the whole thing.

It had to be Glee. Kurt had mentioned a football player, Finn, who had joined Glee. Finn was the QB... yeah, that had to be it. Finn was the QB, and the WMHS Titans sucked so badly that adding Kurt couldn't possibly make things any worse. Burt closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Kurt would go to this length to keep up the pretense that everything was as he said? That he wasn't gay? "Thanks, Kurt," Burt finally said, opening his eyes to look at his boy. Kurt was looking at him hopefully, clearly eager for approval. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

There was nothing fake or forced about Kurt's smile now. It was the smile of a little boy who had just won his father's approval, a smile Burt hadn't seen on Kurt's face in years. Burt had to smile back, reaching out to squeeze Kurt's shoulder and offer him the ticket. "Why don't you hold on to that, until we get home, so I don't drop it in an engine or something."

Kurt nodded, tucking the ticket back in his wallet and his wallet back in his bag. "It's... Deadliest Catch is on during the game..."

Burt shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I can record it. Your first game's more important."

Kurt actually blushed a little, even as his happy smile grew. "It's... not really that big a deal," he said modestly. "I mean, the whole team sucks. I probably won't do anything except sit on the bench the whole time..."

"Doesn't matter," Burt repeated. "I'll be there."

.

.

Burt was there. Sort of. He sat in his truck outside the stadium, listening to the crowd and leaning against the steering wheel. What had he done? He couldn't do this. Kurt couldn't do this. Kurt was not an athlete. Kurt was a dancer. A singer. An actor. But because of what Burt had said to him, because of the position Burt had forced him into, Kurt had started playing a sport he hated, with a team who hated him, for a dad he couldn't talk to. "I'm so sorry, Kurt," Burt whispered.

He knew what would happen. Kurt would somehow manage to survive the locker room, probably just barely, because no jock in his right mind would tolerate having a fag around as they got changed. Kurt would probably keep his eyes on his own locker and try to take up as little room as possible. Even the slightest accidental contact with another boy could result in Burt's son getting thrown around a bit. Nothing too serious, though, because he might be needed in the game. No, Kurt's real struggle would come after things ended, when the boys were showering and Kurt wouldn't need to be intact until the next game. Burt had set Kurt up for a gay-bashing.

And that was just the locker room. If he went into the stadium now (and McKinley must have just done something bad again, from the massive groan coming up from the crowd), Kurt would probably be sitting on the bench, arms and legs tucked in to take up as little room as possible again, being jostled on either side by his teammates, or being ignored by them. He would sit through one miserable play after another, because Kurt was still Kurt and Kurt still had no interest whatsoever in football, even if he was on the team, and then, if by some miracle, the Titans managed to get in a position where they could try for a field goal, he'd be called out onto the field. He'd be expected to kick the football. And he'd probably be lucky if he managed to get his foot to connect with it. Kurt was no athlete. He'd be laughed off the field. Humiliated in front of his whole school. All to keep up a lie for his dad.

Burt's heart twisted, because if Kurt was willing to put himself through all that for Burt, it meant that he would rather live that hell than just tell Burt that he was gay. What sort of father was he, if his son would rather shoulder what would be very-nearly torture rather than just say those words?

"I can't do this," Burt said, covering his face. "No more. I'll just... if Kurt can't tell me, then he can't tell me. And maybe he isn't gay. Kurt can do whatever he wants." Burt nodded to himself. "Whatever he wants. As long as it's legal. No more protests. I can't do this to him anymore."

But Burt also couldn't hide in his truck. Kurt was in there, in uniform, sitting on a field, waiting for Burt. And if Burt knew his son, Kurt would be scanning every single face to find his dad in the crowd. He'd be waiting, and hoping, and if Burt didn't show up after he had made such a big deal about it, Kurt would be crushed. Absolutely devastated. There were some things Burt just couldn't do to his kid.

So he got out of his truck. He got to his feet and forced himself inside the stadium. He presented his ticket, and he bought himself some popcorn. And then he went to find a seat.

"DAD!"

It was the third quarter by the time Burt made it to his seat, but almost as soon as he came out of the tunnel, he heard Kurt's high voice soaring above the noise of the crowd. Kurt must have been watching for him the entire game. And there he was, just in front of the bench, surrounded by boys twice his size in their pads, waving excitedly. "Dad!" Burt awkwardly adjusted his hat, hiding a small wave with the gesture, hoping to appease Kurt before he... nope. There he went, bouncing excitedly as he waved and pointed at himself. "I told you! I told you!"

You sure did, Burt thought, watching Kurt practice high kicks, the rest of the team completely ignoring him. He glanced around, hoping none of his neighbors had noticed either. Not that he was embarrassed of his son. He was just...

He was a horrible father, really, and he did not deserve Kurt's enthusiasm. Even if he had come out of the locker room and over half the game in a good mood. I just hope he hasn't kicked anything yet, Burt thought, taking his seat to watch the disaster that was the game. If I missed that...

The game went on, though, with the Titans doing worse and worse. The QB was desperately trying to pull something off, and the coach was stomping on his clipboard, and Kurt... Kurt was now sitting primly on the bench, his legs crossed, elbows clasping his knee, probably bored out of his skull. There hadn't even been a moment when a kick was possible, and Kurt was probably too crappy a player (no offense, son) to be put out for anything other than a pretty good shot.

Fifteen seconds left. Time for one more play. Burt sat back, relieved. The game was almost over, and Kurt hadn't embarrassed himself. All he'd have to do is survive the locker room, and then Burt could take him out for pizza or something, a reward for actually making the football team.

And then the QB called a timeout. Burt frowned, watching as the team conferred. Whatever call the QB had made clearly wasn't very popular.

It didn't take Burt long to find out why. The speakers squealed, and then that girl song Kurt had been dancing to all those weeks ago filled the stadium. And the football team was dancing.

"Oh my god," Burt whispered, staring at the team as they did the exact same dance Kurt had been doing. "He... oh my god..." Burt knew exactly who was to blame for that idea.

The other team had no idea what to make of the Titans busting a move on the field. They stood in confusion (several tried to dance along), and they were not expecting it when the other boys fell back into formation and actually made the play. The QB reared back and flung the ball, and Burt, like the rest of the crowd, held his breath as the football arced through the air toward number 20, racing toward the end zone.

Burt was probably the only Titan supporter praying he didn't make it.

The crowd exploded into cheers as 20 scored a touchdown, tying up the game at the last second, quite literally. Burt got to his feet with the rest of the crowd, clapping, a sinking feeling in his chest. Field goal attempt was next. Everyone was going to be looking at Kurt, expecting him to win the game for them. Burt glanced down at where Kurt was still sitting primly on the bench, his head turned toward number 20 and his victory dance. Did he even realize that they had just scored? Surely Kurt knew a little about the game. He had to realize the whole school would blame him for a loss at this point.

Burt's eyes stayed on his son as Kurt got to his feet, holding his helmet against his hip. The coach was talking to him now, definitely making sure Kurt was aware of the importance of this kick. Kurt reluctantly pulled his helmet on (probably cringing at what it would do to his hair, if Burt knew his son) and jogged out to the field. "He's so little..." Kurt was absolutely dwarfed by his teammates and the opposing side. They'd crush him to death if they broke through the Titans' defense. Burt suddenly did not trust those other boys to keep his son safe, nor did he trust the pads Kurt was wearing.

And then Kurt waved his hand in the air. The speakers squealed and the music started again, and Burt very nearly hid his face. What are you thinking, Kurt! There, alone on the field, Kurt was rolling his shoulders, starting to dance. It's not a stage!

And then Kurt reached the ball, his leg swung back, and holy crap! Burt could only stare as the ball soared through the uprights, dead-center. It was a perfect kick. It was Kurt's kick. And this time, when the stadium exploded in cheers as McKinley High won its first football game in fifteen years, Burt was exploding right along with it, grabbing the shoulders of the two guys in front of him, swinging them around. "YES! YES! YES!" He thrust his arm out, pointing at Kurt, shouting as loud as he could. "THAT IS MY BOY! THAT IS MY SON!"

Kurt was pointing too, pointing toward the goal, pointing toward himself, his helmet already off. The Titans were swooping in on him, yanking him off the ground to hold him on their shoulders, and Burt could see the grin on Kurt's face all the way up in the bleachers as his boy waved and blew kisses his way. "THAT IS MY SON!"

.

.

After they were home, Kurt went to take a shower (the locker room showers were disgusting, he claimed, though Burt suspected Kurt just didn't want to risk them), and Burt stood just inside the front door, grinning like an idiot. When Kurt was a baby, Burt had imagined him following in his footsteps, being on the football team, chasing girls, getting dirty... It hadn't taken him long before he'd realized Kurt would never be the son he had dreamed of. But tonight, after watching Kurt win the game for the team, breaking a fifteen-year losing streak... well tonight, Burt felt like maybe that dream son really was right here with him.

Burt waited about half an hour after hearing the water turn off downstairs before heading down to talk to Kurt. There were some things he needed to tell his kid. Some things that really couldn't wait until Kurt was ready to talk.

Kurt was sitting at his vanity, spraying something on his face, dressed in the grungy pajamas he loved. As Burt watched, he picked up a hot pink puffy thing and started dabbing at his cheeks. Burt came up behind him, taking a deep breath, and Kurt lowered the puff.

"Nighttime skincare is a big part of my post-game ritual."

He was still going to insist on the lie. Burt looked away for a moment before turning back to Kurt's reflection in the mirror. "Well, I don't know what to say about that, but, uh..."

The words shouldn't be this hard to say. Kurt was his son. Burt loved him. He always loved him. "I was really proud of you tonight, Kurt. I wish your mom would've been there." Kurt's eyes widened slightly in the mirror, and Burt was quick to correct himself. "I mean, alive..." Because Kurt's mom was always with him. Burt had told him that every time Kurt missed her, and he'd take Kurt to the mirror and show Kurt how she was in his eyes, his face, his smile. Of course, Kurt didn't need those reassurances anymore, but Burt still had to say it.

"Thanks," Kurt murmured, a tired but happy smile on his face. Burt watched it slide away slowly, and he nodded, turning to leave.

"Dad?"

Burt stopped, turning back to Kurt.

"I... have something that I want to say." Kurt pushed himself out of his chair, stepping toward Burt... and suddenly Burt knew what Kurt was about to say. He had never seen Kurt look that scared before in his life. "I... I'm glad that you're proud of me... but I don't want to lie anymore." He gave a quick shake of his head, his composure quickly melting away. He was about to cry, Burt realized. Skip the 'too-tough-to-cry' face and fall straight into the tears.

But Kurt needed to say his piece before Burt could comfort him. He stood quietly, listening, waiting.

"Being a part of... the Glee Club and football has really shown me that I can be anything. And..." Kurt took a deep breath, managing to keep the tears at bay, "what I am..." Just barely managing. Burt nodded a little, trying to encourage him. Say it. Just say it, and it will make everything easier... "is..."

Burt could hear Kurt's breath shuddering, and he watched Kurt staring at him unblinkingly, another sure sign of the tears just barely held in check. Kurt never blinked if he was about to cry.

"I'm gay."

Thank you.

Burt looked at Kurt, looked at how tense he was, how much fear and worry was in that pale face, and he said the only thing he could think of, the only response he could possibly give to that.

"I know."

"Really?"

"I've known since you were three." That seemed to be the right thing to say, because the fear was washing out of Kurt's face, replaced by surprise. Kurt's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open, and he didn't even try to find any words. "All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels."

Kurt closed his eyes now, blinking, probably remembering those tiny red heels (like Dorothy's) that he'd ended up getting (though not at first. Burt had tried a truck, but Kurt had thrown such a fit over that...). And then he smiled, and almost all of the tension left the room. We can talk about this now. And to begin, Burt had to be honest. "I guess I'm not totally in love with the idea, but... if that's who you are... there's nothing I can do about it. And I love you just as much!" He looked pointedly at his son, making sure Kurt understood. Nothing had changed between them, nothing except the constant lies. Those could go away now. Burt knew. Kurt knew Burt knew. "Okay?" He reached out now, clapping Kurt on the shoulder.

That touch was all it took for Kurt's face to finish crumpling, and the next thing Burt knew, he had an armful of his son, pressed tight against his chest. Kurt hadn't hugged him like this since before middle school. Burt closed his eyes for a moment, holding his boy.

"Thanks for telling me, Kurt."

When Kurt pulled back a moment later, he was blinking and nodding and still not crying, though his face was flushed and his eyes were damp. It was probably best, Burt realized, to make his retreat now, so Kurt could have his emotional meltdown in privacy. But tomorrow... tomorrow, things would be different. Burt could just feel it.

As he headed toward the stairs, he heard Kurt return to his vanity. And he just had to... just had to ask. Just to make sure. He turned. "You're sure, right?"

Kurt's reflection stared back at him incredulously from the mirror. "Yeah Dad," he answered with a nod. "I'm sure."

"I'm just checkin'," Burt mumbled, giving another nod and heading back up the stairs.

He closed Kurt's door behind him and went into his bedroom, closing that door as well. On the top of the broken dresser in his room was a photo of his wife, and he picked that up, pulling open the top drawer to let some of the faded scent of her perfume waft out.

"He did it," Burt said, sitting on the foot of the bed and looking at her beautiful face. Kurt's face. "He told me. I know you already know, but... I just had to tell you myself. He told me, and I didn't fuck things up." Burt closed his eyes, shaking his head and smiling. "I didn't fuck things up. I thought... when you died, you know, that was my biggest fear. Kurt would come out to me, and I'd drive him away. Not on purpose, just... you know. Being me. Being stupid. But he hugged me instead." He sighed, opening his eyes again and touching her cheek. "I miss you. Every day. But I see his face, and I see his smile... and god, his laughter after that game today... it was like you were right back with us. He's going to be amazing, just like you." Burt lifted the photo, kissing it lightly before replacing it on the dresser. "I love you. I love him. Thank you for bringing him into my life."

Burt went to sleep that night with his wife's perfume still lingering in the air, and his pride for Kurt still burning fiercely in his chest. Tomorrow would be a new day. A different day. A better day.

He might even give Kurt his baby back.