****So I've decided to stick to writing oneshots, as I apparently don't have the attention span to remember when I'm writing something else…oops.
This is a now 5 am piece of self-induced insomnia, so we'll see how that one goes.
Let me know what you think, even if you don't like it, I harsh love me some productive feedback.
Disclaimer: it's not my show.
"Dad, I want to make a car."
Blaine's thumb and forefinger were rubbing together continuously - a nervous habit he had picked up during middle school when he would come home with bruises on his arms and a defiant 'I'm fine' on his lips until he was left to slip away to his room alone. They had let him be, deciding that when the time came he would tell them about the bullying they knew he dealt with daily. Ivan had convinced his wife that it wouldn't benefit their son to draw light to an issue he wasn't ready to talk about. They had argued at first but he eventually won her over with the argument that
"Parent complaints never saved the kids we picked on".
Two years later he learned why hindsight is 20/20.
No amount of apologies or presents could ever make up for what his child had suffered, though he tried using the latter. He couldn't bring himself to apologize: not yet, anyway. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he was the reason for his child's pain.
Ivan bit his lip as he watched his son nervously standing with a hopeful but guarded expression on his face. As he remembered the last time they had tried their little 'car project' he couldn't help but internally wince. Blaine had been uncomfortable as his father lay under the car, demanding tools that seemed to slip out of his hands and onto the cement underneath them more often than not. Blaine would stammer an apology as he finally handed the tool to his father, only to be informed that no, a monkey wrench does not substitute for a ratchet wrench, and in this situation a screwdriver is always good for nothing. It had been an awkward and frustrating experience for the both of them, and though he had never stated it plainly, Ivan knew Blaine was aware that on some level he had hoped it would change him straight.
"Do you mean that you want to rebuild a car?" Blaine's cheeks blushed red.
"Yeah, that's what I mean." The two stood staring at each other for a few long seconds before Blaine broke eye contact to look down as he murmured a quiet apology and turned back to start up the stairs to his room.
"Blaine," Ivan called as his son reached half way.
"Yeah Dad?"
"You don't have your Quibblers rehearsal tomorrow, do you?"
"Warblers, and no."
"Right, Warblers," he muttered, nodding his head. He knew that. Looking up he saw Blaine still staring at him expectantly. "Make sure to wear old clothes, okay?"
"Okay, Dad." Blaine smiled as he bound jovially up the remaining stairs and into his room. A moment later the sound of Katy Perry's 'Teenage Dream' rang through the house. The music was deafening, but Ivan could swear he heard his son's voice singing along just as loudly, if not louder.
And that was how Blaine's father did not find himself spending half the night staring at the bright screen of his Mac while searching Google for how to find the perfect father/son car to rebuild, and he didn't kill time waiting for the microwave to finish heating up his third cup of coffee as he studied eHow's tips for bonding with teens. He didn't settle on the 1984 F150 he found on craigslist because it bore absolutely no resemblance to the 69' Plymouth that had been such a failure. As well, he didn't spend the majority of his work day on his cellphone making arrangements on the best way to transport the truck to his home or trying to emphasize that it didn't matter how much it cost, he wanted it in his garage before he even came home from work.
When Blaine arrived home from school that afternoon he stared in disbelief at the monstrosity resting in the garage in place of his Civic.
"Dad," he asked with raised eyebrows. Ivan shrugged.
"A coworker was trying to get rid of it. I said I'd take it for him." With that he turned and headed into their garage. "You ready, kid?"
Blaine smiled and nodded, his fingers making a slight creaking sound as they rubbed together.
"Do you want to start it out," Ivan asked. Blaine laughed nervously.
"I don't really know what to do or where to even start."
"We'll go slow then. Start with the basics. Hand me the ratchet, will you?" Blaine took a deep breath as he peered into the toolbox, trying to remember the tools he was definitely not supposed to use. As he looked he blinked and let out an 'oh,' of surprise. The tools were labeled. Each handle had a strip of scotch tape attached and labeled in crude thick black ink. Blaine shifted through until he found the one labeled 'rachet'. He held it up uncertainly and his father nodded.
"Good, good. Now bring it over here and I'll show you what to do with it."
The next few days consisted of repeated instructions, minor tool fumbles, and much reassurance that things were going as smooth as could be anticipated. As Blaine stood up to stretch his body, his father took a breath.
"Blaine," he started as his son turned to look at him, "was there any reason you wanted to 'make a car'?" Blaine's cheeks blushed red and he turned away.
"No," he murmured through a badly suppressed grin. His father raised an eyebrow.
"Really."
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes," he exclaimed. Their eyes met and his grin faded. "No?" Blaine looked so uncertain, but Ivan didn't want to scare him away when they had already come so far. Their relationship was far from mended, but they were starting to repair the cracks and tears. He didn't want to mess this up now. Ivan nodded and started picking up some of the tools they had left on the ground.
"There's just this…friend, that I have. Just a friend," he added quickly as Ivan stood holding the tools, now staring at his son, "He's just a friend, but he's really good with cars and stuff – his dad's a mechanic in Lima – and I just thought that it might be really cool to, you know, learn about cars and…stuff," he trailed off lamely as his father continued to remain quiet. The silence was broken only by the creaking of Blaine's rubbing fingers, replaced shortly with a light scritching sound as his forefinger was replaced with his fingernails.
"What's his name?"
"Kurt. Kurt Hummel."
"Is he on the Garblers too?"
"Warblers, and yeah, he's on it." There was a slight pause.
"Is he a good guy?" Blaine nodded.
"He's the best, Dad." Ivan nodded.
"Good," he clapped his hands, "alright, we should probably get this place cleaned up before your mother gets home. If we don't I doubt either of us will hear the end of it."
Six weeks later the truck was finished. It started okay and ran alright, didn't have any leaks or cracks (that they knew of) and it seemed all in all a decent truck that both felt content living with.
"Dad, can we take it out?" Ivan chuckled lightly at his son who currently held an expression that he hadn't seen on his face since he still believed that Santa had come on Christmas morning.
"Let's do it, kid. Mind if I drive for the first while? I just want to make sure that it's running okay before we let you wreck it." Blaine pouted.
"That was one time, and I swear it was an accident. That raccoon came out of nowhere, and besides, no one died."
"That raccoon did…"
"Yeah but –"
"That car did…"
"I didn't –"
"Your self-respect did." Blaine stared open mouthed at his father.
"Really? You went there? Seriously? You're my father aren't you supposed to be mature or something?" Blaine looked bewildered and his father laughed.
"I'm kidding. Come on, let's test this baby out."
They took the truck down back roads, avoiding traffic and talking about things they could tweak and how fast they should try to take it.
"Nothing too fast to start with," Ivan started, "we need to take it out to a mechanic first, just to make sure we did everything right."
Blaine looked confused.
"But Dad, we already got the mechanic to check everything."
"Not everything," he murmured as they pulled into 'Hummel Tire and Lube'. As the ignition was turned off and they stepped out of the confines of the truck they were met by a young looking teen with ruffled hair and grease stained coveralls.
"You must be Kurt," Ivan started, extending his hand towards the boy who looked confused, then broke into a grin as he caught sight of Blaine.
"Mr. Anderson, it's a pleasure to meet you. Finally," with the last word Kurt threw a short glare at Blaine, who replied with an apologetic shrug.
"I'm sorry that the Warblers didn't make it to Nationals. If it's any consolation, I thought the duet between you two was flawless."
Kurt began to blush as Blaine looked speechless. He hadn't even known his father had been aware that there was a performance. As Kurt let out his thanks and left to retrieve his father Blaine looked at Ivan.
"I looked it up online," he admitted quietly. "You were great, Blaine. I'm really proud of you."
Blaine smiled.
"Thanks, Dad."
"I'm really sorry I missed it," Ivan reached over and lightly clapped Blaine on the shoulder, "but I'm still so proud of you." Blain leaned into the contact and they stood there silently for a moment until Kurt returned with Burt.
"I have to admit that I am a little disappointed. Blaine kept telling me about this 'amazing truck' that you've been 'making' and I'm not going to lie, I was getting a little excited to see it," he surveyed the truck in front of him, "oh well, I guess this will have to do."
Blaine scoffed.
"I will have you know that this truck here is far superior to any truck that you have or will ever see in your entire life, my friend."
"Oh it's definitely something I've never seen, and hopefully will not ever see again." At the hurt look on Blaine's face Kurt chuckled. "I'm only joking. Come on, let's see if you know how to check your levels."
The two boys walked back to the car as Ivan and Burt stood watching them.
"You've got one hell of a kid, Anderson," Burt commented as he lifted his cap to scratch his head.
"You too."
"I know. I don't tell him that as much as I should though, you?" Burt looked at Ivan, who shook his head. "You should. He's an amazing kid."
Ivan nodded. They were silent another minute before Burt spoke up again.
"Y'know, it's hard on him to. Being gay and all," again, Ivan just nodded as Burt continued, "I know it's hard accepting it and everything, but this is one of those parenting things that isn't about you. This is his life, and he needs you to be there for him because no matter what he goes through, he needs to know that no matter what, you love him unconditionally. That's your one job as a parent. Don't mess it up."
They drifted off into silence, listening to the sounds of their boys joking around with each other until Kurt called Burt over to take a second look at something that may prove to be hazardous in the future. Ivan stood alone and watched Burt interact with his son. It didn't seem forced or rehearsed, it wasn't them accepting a routine they had fallen into. They loved and respected each other. Ivan watched Blaine's hand casually brush against Kurt's, and saw as both boys blushed.
This was a start. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't going to be easy, but it was a start. As Blaine's hand brushed over Kurt's again, Ivan's eyes met his son's, and he smiled. Blaine smiled too, and as he looked away his fingers slowly entwined with Kurt's. Ivan's chest felt tight as the realization dawned on him: that his son had started dating and he had missed it. He had missed the pre-date jitters, the stress of finding the perfect outfit, and the debate on where he should take his first date. He wondered who had asked who, and if Blaine had been afraid that he would find out on his own. What had he thought would happen?
He watched how easily the two fit together and the looks they held for each other in their eyes. With a pained smile, Ivan saw Burt watching him. The mechanic nodded, then went back to work on the car. Ivan barely registered Blaine coming up to him.
"Hey Dad," he whispered, "is it okay if my…my boyfriend and I go out for dinner tonight? We won't be too late or anything."
Looking into his son's hopeful eyes he smiled.
"Sure thing, kiddo. Just don't fill up on too much; your mother has a cheesecake in the fridge downstairs and I don't think she'd mind if we brought it out for company."
Blaine smiled and Ivan soon found himself engulfed in a hug.
"Thanks, Dad."
Ivan smiled.
"Anytime, kid. Anytime."
Thanks for reading, friends!