A/N: Here's an awkward little fic for you guys! This is set after Dinner with the Andersons, but it stands on its own just fine. Thank you all for reading/reviewing/favoriting, I really appreciate it. I know I say it all the time, but you guys really do rock. :)
Kurt and Blaine stumbled in from the porch, still laughing at the look on Blaine's parents' faces when Blaine had kissed him right at the dinner table. Truthfully, they hadn't stopped laughing since they left Westerville.
"Oh my God," Kurt choked out, "we need to stop, we're going to wake someone up!"
"Oh, I plan to," Blaine giggled, "once you're defiling my virtue."
"Shh! You'll wake my dad up, and he'll kill you for even joking about that!"
"At least I'd die happy!"
They walked into the living room, intending to get some make out time in on the couch when they heard someone clear their throat from the corner. Both boys jumped about a foot.
"Blaine, Kurt," Burt growled from his chair, "nice of you two to finally arrive."
"Dad," Kurt whined, "it's not even curfew yet! And why are you being all creepy and in the shadows? Blaine, get back here!"
Blaine had started moving backwards towards the door, "Sorry," he mumbled, walking back into the room, "thought I should go…"
"Oh no, kid, you're staying. Now sit on the couch, both of you."
"Dad, can we at least turn on a light? This whole thing feels very like something out of Hitchcock."
Burt snapped on the lamp next to his chair as the boys sat down on the couch. Kurt really didn't like the look on his dad's face. He was smiling, but it was unsettling. Something was definitely up.
"So, Kurt, Blaine, I have a story for you," Burt began, "I hope you'll enjoy it. It's a very good story."
"Dad, what's wrong? Why are you acting like this?"
"Acting like what," Burt asked, his voice jumping an octave, "am I acting any different than normal?"
"Dad, it's really not good for your heart to get your blood pressure up like this. Now just tell us what's wrong."
"Wrong? I didn't say anything about something being wrong," Burt had started to pace in front of the couch, "I just have this wonderful story about a father who trusts his son enough to trust him alone in the house with his boyfriend, even after that son has done some…things under his roof."
"Okay," Kurt said slowly, "we've been following all the rules, no shirtless anything, feet stay on the floor, and no fun times in the shower."
Burt chuckled to himself. "I wasn't finished with my story yet, Kurt," Burt continued, still pacing, "now this loving father decides to go get his son's laundry for him, so that he'll have clean clothes for the next week. This father who loves his son so much that he's willing to read the absurdly complicated care tags on his son's clothing. Well, imagine this father's surprise when in this son's room, mind you this is the son who constantly reassured him that no funny business goes down in his house when he's gone, these things."
Burt was holding up a pair of black boxers with golden snitches all over them. Blaine's Harry Potter boxers, to be exact.
"Oh shit," Blaine breathed.
"Those are mine!" Kurt jumped up and attempted to snatch the boxers from his dad.
"Kurt," Burt said dangerously, "sit down. And I know that these aren't yours. Not only do you tend to go for designer boxer briefs that aren't a blend of anything, these have been helpfully labeled with your boyfriend's name."
"You put your name in your boxers? Seriously Blaine?"
"Hey, Dalton uses a laundry service, remember? You have your stuff labeled too!"
"Yeah, but I don't decide to go commando after we-"
"Please," Burt glared at him "don't continue that sentence. We obviously have a few things to discuss here."
"Dad, Blaine just used my room to change in," Kurt nervously laughed, "now, we'll just take those-"
"Kurt, you're just digging your hole deeper," Burt warned, "now I know you guys are teenagers, and your hormones are making you all crazy, you just want to-"
"Dad," Kurt replied, rubbing his temples, "please, please don't, we really don't want to talk, this is-"
"Kiddo, we're going to talk whether you like it or not because obviously you two are disregarding what I've said about having sex in this house-"
"Sir," Blaine interjected, "we're not having sex. We're not ready and-"
"Save it, Blaine. I just don't want either of you to get hurt. What if you guys break up? What if he hurts you Kurt?"
"Dad, again, we're not having sex, and we don't plan on breaking up anytime soon. I don't think he's in this to hurt me."
"You matter Kurt," Burt said earnestly, "and so does Blaine. I don't want you guys to rush into anything. And yeah, you're going to want to do stuff because you guys are teenagers in love, but-"
"Yeah, dad, I know. Now can we please end this now?"
"Yeah Mr. Hummel," Blaine said, looking down at the floor, "I really, really, really don't want to have this talk with my boyfriend's dad."
"Okay boys," Burt looked at both of them, "now no funny business. And Blaine, you'll be headed home by midnight?"
"Um, actually dad," Kurt replied, jumping up, "things with Blaine's parents didn't go so well and-"
"He can stay. Couch though, and I'll check. Rest assured that if you're found in my son's bed," he pointed at Blaine, "you can kiss a body part goodbye. I'm not sure which one, but I have a good idea of which one I'm thinking-"
"DAD!"
"Fine boys, but remember, I'm watching you…always watching."
"Creepy," Blaine murmured, then added, "but you're lucky to have such a loving, caring dad!"
"Flattery will get you nowhere, kid," Burt muttered.
Burt walked across the room and started up the stairs, "Remember, always watching…"
"Um, Mr. Hummel?"
"What kid?" Burt stopped on the stairs.
"Can I have my boxers back? They're my favorite pair."