It had been a long day, topping off an even longer week, and Burt sighed happily as he settled into his favorite seat on the living room sofa and kicked off his boots. Between winning the Congressional election seat on Tuesday – and boy did that feel weird, knowing he, blue-collar, average-Joe businessman Burt Hummel was officially about to become a politician – and trying to figure out how to schedule his hours at the garage around his new duties, Burt was beat. And this was only the beginning.

Getting elected was one thing. Making the most of his opportunity and figuring out how to keep the pledges he had made to the voters, while still balancing his business and home life? That was something else.

Still, he couldn't help but look forward to the challenge. He had entered the race just to stick it to that crazy devil-woman Sylvester, but his inner fire had been stoked once he got a look at the rest of the candidates. He had to be able to do a better job than that self-centered cheerleading coach, right? Not to mention that psycho running from prison! And that sleazy pizza tycoon who had tried to climb to the top on the backs of innocent high school kids like that friend of Kurt's. Burt was not an egotistical man, but he knew he was a far better choice than any of them.

He was grateful that the people of Ohio had felt the same way.

Burt's cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he groaned. The damned thing hadn't quit ringing all day. It was probably another congratulatory call, or some glad-handing local businessman hoping to cash in on his new status. Burt had been fielding those calls all damn week, though Carole had kindly taken care of a good many of them on his behalf, God love her.

"Burt Hummel," he greeted shortly. He sighed softly when the caller turned out to be some kind of booster that wanted him to give a speech. That was something else he didn't know how to get used to; the idea that people suddenly wanted him to stand up behind a microphone and voice his opinions on everything under the sun. Clearly, giving out his personal number to that campaign committee Schuester had hired for him had been a really stupid idea. "I'll have to get back to you on that. Let me give you an address you can write to with all the details, so we can look it over and check my schedule, okay?"

He gave the excited woman an email address, the one Kurt had set up exactly for this kind of situation, and hung up the call. About to put away his phone, Burt suddenly noticed that he had a voice mail he hadn't looked at. The call had come in a couple of hours ago.

"Hello, Congressman Hummel," said a light voice that was as familiar as Burt's own heartbeat. He smiled at the greeting, but then frowned thoughtfully when the message went on, "I know you and your staff are very busy today, but if you happen to see my dad around anywhere, could you tell him that I'd really like to talk to him? Thanks. Bye."

General sarcasm of the words aside, Burt could hear the wistfulness in Kurt's tone and he instantly felt bad. He had barely spoken a non-election-related word to his son all week. In fact, he realized with some dismay, their only conversation had pretty much consisted of him chewing the kid out on Wednesday for ballot rigging in the school Presidential race. Kurt had sworn up and down that he didn't do it, but having admitted that he had considered stuffing the ballot-box had instantly thrown a shadow of doubt over his defense and made both Burt and the school principal assume that Kurt was guilty.

It had been Finn who told him about Rachel Berry's confession of tampering when they were finishing up a job at the garage this evening. It seemed that Kurt had been telling the truth all along. He had been nervous and panicky not because he was guilty, but because he was afraid that they wouldn't believe he was innocent. And they hadn't.

At this point, Kurt still thought his father was disappointed and ashamed of him for something he hadn't even done.

Shit.

Burt realized now that he should have known better. Even when he was just a little kid, Kurt had been a terrible liar. He had always given himself away for any wrongdoing by shifting, squirming, avoiding eye contact and mumbling when he lied. Sometimes he had burst into tears of remorse before Burt could even figure out what he had done!

When he was wrongfully accused, Kurt got louder, stammered, spoke too fast, and got frantically angry. Exactly as he had done in the principal's office.

Damn it. He knew that. If he hadn't been so distracted by the flurry of phone calls and last minute election nonsense, he'd have realized that Kurt was telling the truth. And today, the first time all week he'd really had to devote to his own business at the shop, he'd been so distracted that he'd never called Kurt as he'd intended to, even after speaking with Finn.

That just wasn't right. Family came first for the Hummels. It always had.

Burt winced, recalling how depressed Kurt had looked during the family celebration for the newly confirmed congressional victory. Had he even told the kid he was sorry that things hadn't worked out at school; that he was sorry Kurt had lost his own election?

No, he hadn't. He'd been too mad about the ballot mess and too pumped up by his own success to say a word.

And now, apparently, he'd been too busy for Kurt to feel like he could come to him for some advice, or a shoulder to lean when he needed one.

Burt sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. He had been fighting hard this past year to break through Kurt's stubborn insistence on trying to handle every difficulty by himself. The boy had just recently started coming to him with his problems and sharing his interests again, finally getting over that irrational fear that he might say or do the wrong thing and magically bring about a second heart-attack.

They both cherished the relationship they shared and Burt would be damned if he was going to break that trust just because of a sudden career shift. Burt would be heading to Washington soon and Kurt would be off to college in less than a year. The time they had to share with each other was about to become a rare and precious thing, even more so than it already was.

Thankfully, Burt was distracted from his sad thoughts by the front door opening. He smiled at the sound of Kurt chattering into his phone.

"Tomorrow at the Lima Bean, as usual." He laughed. "Don't even try that, we both know it's your turn to pay. Right. Well, maybe if you're really good, I'll give in and buy you one of those Christmas tree cookies you love so much."

Burt raised his eyebrow at the intimate teasing in Kurt's tone. Somehow, his offer of a cookie sounded suspiciously less innocent than it should have.

Spotting his dad listening to the one-sided conversation with a slightly disapproving expression, Kurt flushed and said, "I have to go, Blaine. It's my turn to make dinner and I should probably get started. Okay, I'll see you then." He could not help grinning a little at whatever response his boyfriend made, nearly whispering as he replied, "I love you, too. Bye."

Although he had become somewhat accustomed to hearing those shy declarations of affection between the two teenagers, it still gave Burt a funny kind of ache inside to have it confirmed once again just how much Kurt loved that boy.

Not wanting to dwell on the thought of how fast Kurt was growing up and away from him, he cleared his throat and said, "I got your phone message."

"Oh." Kurt bit his lip, venturing the rest of the way into the family room and dropping his school bag on the floor as he took a seat in the chair across from his father. Crossing one knee over the other and clasping his hands together, Kurt said, "Sorry. I probably shouldn't have done that, but you're kind of a hard person to get a hold of these days."

"Don't apologize. Apparently I needed a kick in the pants to get my attention, so I'm glad you gave me one. In fact, I wanted to talk to you too. I owe you an apology, Kurt."

He blinked, clearly not having expected that. "You do?"

Burt nodded, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he looked Kurt solemnly in the eye. "You told me you hadn't rigged that school election and I didn't believe you. I should have. You've never lied to me about something that big before and I should have known you wouldn't start now. I still don't like that you thought about cheating, but I can't exactly punish you for thinking. Otherwise, I'd have to send myself to jail for some of the things that went through my mind about Sue Sylvester and Reggie Salazar these past few weeks. Finn told me what really happened with Rachel and I felt like a real jerk. I should have listened to you, kid, and I'm sorry."

The teenager's rigid posture had melted into a relieved slump. He smiled and said, "It's okay, Dad. I know you've had a lot on your mind. I shouldn't have considered cheating, and I definitely shouldn't have said anything to Rachel about it. It just never occurred to me that she'd take me seriously! I only meant to vent because I knew my chances of beating Brittany were so dismal." He shook his head sadly. "I knew I didn't have much of a chance of being elected. Most of the students at McKinley don't like me to begin with, and part of me knew they wouldn't care about making any real improvements at school, but I couldn't help getting my hopes up anyway."

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?" Burt asked, gesturing him forward. Kurt complied silently, popping up from his chair and plunking down next to his dad. An unconscious sigh of contentment escaped his lips as he felt the familiar warmth of his father's arm settle around his shoulders and give him a supportive little half-hug. "Cause you know I always have time for you, Kurt, no matter what else is going on. Just because I've got new things and more people to think about now isn't gonna change that. It's you and me, no matter what. Right, buddy?"

Kurt smiled at those words. Burt had started saying that, 'you and me, no matter what', the year Kurt's mom had died and it had never proven to be anything less than the truth. Even doubling the size of their little family last year had not lessened the special bond that the two of them shared.

"Right." He nestled in just a bit closer, enjoying the feeling of security for a few moments, then, in a quiet voice he admitted, "I'm really worried, Dad. About college. About my future, and New York, and all the dreams I've had for as long as I can remember. It was easy to believe when it was just a mythical 'some day', but now it's real. It's almost time and what if I'm just not good enough for any of those things?"

"Hey, now! Where's all this coming from?" Burt asked, craning his neck to get a look at Kurt's face. "Is this about not winning the class presidency? Because you can't let one defeat-"

"But it's not just one defeat," Kurt interrupted, sitting up straight and turning to face him, every feature in his young face clenching in frustration. "I lost the election, I lost the lead in the school musical, I've never had a solo in glee except with the Warblers last year, and we lost that too! And right now, things are so messed up between New Directions and the Trouble Tones that we might not even have enough people to go to Sectionals this year! I don't have anything else to show for my entire high school career and now NYADA isn't going to want me, Dad. No college in the entire state of New York is going to want me! Maybe no college anywhere and I'm going to be stuck in Lima, working at a fast-food restaurant or something, for the rest of my life!"

Startled by this sudden burst of despair, one that he realized just from the super-dramatic levels of passion had to have been simmering inside Kurt for a long time, Burt reacted on instinct. Reaching out, he clasped both of his son's shoulders in his hands and gave them a firm squeeze. "You listen to me, Kurt. You are not going to get stuck flipping burgers or serving coffee in some minimum wage job, okay? For starters, you've always got a job in my shop any time you want it."

Relaxing just a bit as he heard the confidence in his father's voice, Kurt nodded.

"Second of all, you just became the son of a congressman who got elected on an arts-education platform. A campaign that you helped organize. You think none of those fancy music schools are gonna care about that? Because you're wrong, Kurt. Not to mention that you been in glee club for three years straight, and ranked pretty high up at Nationals last year. You raised money for your school play, played a part in that show that got big laughs and a great review in your school newspaper, and did half the costuming for the other kids."

Brow furrowing slightly, as if he had never considered his participation in West Side Story as a legitimate achievement before, Kurt said, "I suppose I did."

"Darn tootin' you did," Burt said firmly. "Your grades have never gone below a B+ average the whole four years of high school, even when you transferred to Dalton and back. That's got to count for something. And if a little variety is what they're looking for, then you got the Cheerios and those few weeks you played football back in sophomore year, right? Don't sell yourself short. You got a hell of a lot to offer. You just need to present it the right way. Big universities and small specialty schools don't just want a lot of fluff and padding. They want someone who's genuinely going to benefit from what they have to offer and will make the most of it. What's the point of accepting a kid with a fancy resume, who's just gonna flake off the minute things get tough? They want a guy like you, somebody who knows what he wants and is willing to put in the hard work to get it."

"Honesty and integrity," Kurt murmured, quoting words he had been hearing from this man his entire life. "If you have those two things, then people have no reason not to stand by you."

"Because they know you're the kind of guy who's gonna stand by them," Burt finished, smiling and feeling a surge of pride in knowing that his son had listened to the lessons he'd tried to teach. "That's what I'm telling you. Something else you gotta remember, Kurt. College boards aren't going to just be looking at a cold, hard list of facts. Most schools are gonna want performance tapes, personal essays about why you want to be part of their program, and maybe even live auditions."

Kurt looked at him, surprised by the comment. "You seem to know a lot about this."

Burt snorted. "Give me some credit, kid. I didn't just get through life on my good looks, y'know. You've been talking about going to New York since you were barely out of diapers, ever since your mom let you watch "The Muppets Take Manhattan" for the first time." He grinned at Kurt's embarrassed smile. He had been crazy for those movies when he was a kid and still had a semi-secret fondness for them. "I knew you were going to head for the big city one day, even if you ended up changing your mind about New York. I been putting money into your college fund since before you were born, you knew that, but did you really believe I'd let you roam off to school in some big city like New York, or Chicago or L.A. without checking out every possible thing there was to know about them?"

"I guess not. And now I suppose we can add Washington D.C. to that list of options, though New York is still my first choice," Kurt replied, his voice sounding a little thick as he absorbed the full measure of what his father was saying. Burt still believed him, was still here for him, and still loved him just as much as he ever had. Staring straight into his dad's eyes, searching for reassurance, he softly asked, "Do you really believe I can make it?"

"I sure do," he replied calmly, keeping his gaze steady and allowing Kurt to see the truth in his eyes. "You can do anything you set your mind to, Kurt, and I don't want you to think it's the end of the world if you don't get into that NYADA place on your first try. You can always start a little smaller and then transfer later, when you've got more experience under your belt. It ain't like Broadway expires if you don't get there before you're twenty. I'm proud of you, son, and that's not going to change, no matter where you end up going to school, or if you change your mind and go into something completely different than theater. I just want you to get your education and end up doing something you truly love. As long as you're happy with your life, I'll be happy."

Kurt smiled and pulled him into a hug. "Thanks, Dad. I love you."

He hugged back hard, giving the young man – no longer a boy, he sadly realized – a couple of firm pats on the back. "I love you too, kid."

Suddenly, Burt's phone rang. He sighed gustily as he pulled it from his pocket, bringing a light laugh from Kurt. "You brought this on yourself, Dad."

"Don't remind me," he groaned, grimacing when he did not recognize the number.

Kurt held out his hand. "May I?"

Wordlessly, Burt handed it over, curious to know what his son had planned.

In a light, chirpy voice, Kurt answered, "You've reached the answering service for Congressman Hummel. How may I help you?"

Burt chuckled under his breath when Kurt bobbed his head in rhythm with the voice on the other end and made a series of mocking faces at their expense.

"I'm sorry, but the congressman is not available for private interviews at this time. Please direct any questions or concerns to 'hummelcongress at ohio dot net' and someone will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and snorted. "Mindy Hill from the Ohio Examiner. Don't call her back, okay? She kept calling me 'miss'. And remind me to change your contact information on the website. The last thing we need is every voter in the state calling us during dinner. Especially tonight. My special honey-glazed chicken breast is deserving of far more respect than that."

Burt burst out laughing, happy to hear his son's playfully sassy attitude. It had been far too long since he had seen Kurt in such a good mood. It made him feel a bit guilty, wondering just how long Kurt had been fretting over the potential loss of his dreams when Burt could have alleviated the worry with just a few well-placed words.

"Sounds good. What do you say I help you out by throwing together a salad while you fix the chicken? Maybe steam up some broccoli and rice to go with it."

Looking surprised but gratified by the offer, they had not made dinner together in a long time, Kurt nodded. "That sounds nice. Make sure you use the brown and wild rice from the natural foods market, though. Not that disgusting Minute Rice that Finn bought the last time Carole made him do the grocery shopping."

"It's not so bad."

"Oh, please. Do you know how much starch is in a single serving of that stuff?" Kurt protested.

His enthusiastic rant on the unhealthy properties of mass produced food products followed Kurt as he jumped up from the sofa and headed into the kitchen, leaving his father with a satisfied smile. He hated that weird rice that Kurt liked. It tasted like dirt and had little husks that got stuck in his teeth every time he ate it, but the prospect of choking some down was worth it for the happiness it would bring Kurt to see him eating healthily.

Rising from his seat, Burt picked up his phone and deliberately turned the ringer off. Carole and Finn would both be home within the hour and it was Friday night.

Family night.

The rest of the world could wait.

THE END

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