AN: Just a little thanksgiving drabble for y'all!
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It was never the same, since Samantha died. Burt tried to put on a brave face, and muttle through, but his cooking sucked. Before she died, Sammy would always put on a big feast, just for her, Burt, and Kurt, her little man. Sometimes, Sammy's parents would stop by, but they had never showed. Sam claimed they were just busy, but Burt knew they just didn't approve of him. This was evident when they stopped calling as soon as she died. The first year, Burt tried to re-create the whole thing. Needless to say, it failed.
"These cranberries don't taste like mommy's." A small, and slightly toothless Kurt sighed.
"I know, buddy, but I'm trying my best." Burt ruffled his son hair, as he sat down at the lonely table, set for two, but filled with enough food for three. Even if it wasn't very well made. "But, don't worry, I got the lady at the store to help me with the turkey, it's gonna be great."
"Can I have a drumstick?" Kurt slightly grinned with eagerness.
"What! You want a drumstick!" Burt feigned shock. "I had no idea. I got a turkey with no drumsticks!" His son looked completely crest-fallen, before he quickly replied. "I'm just kidding', bud. Of course you can have a drumstick!" Kurt suddenly got very excited. Burt picked up the knife to carve the turkey. When he opened it, however, he discovered that the turkey was still completely frozen. Kurt began to sniffle just a little bit.
"I miss mommy." He cried.
"I know, buddy. I know." Burt just picked up his petite son, and cried along with him.
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The next year was even worse. Burt decided to take Kurt to his brother's house. Tommy's wife Katherine was a decent cook, and his kids were around Kurt's age. Dan was 12, Rick was 10, and Billy was 8, which left Kurt, age 9, sandwiched in the middle. Of course, Kurt was different than most boys, and Tommy's kids were about as stereotypically boy as you could get. Burt just prayed that this worked out all right. He hated seeing his little boy cry. Kurt and Burt pulled up to the medium sized house about 2:00, as Katherine had promised that the dinner would be served at 3:00. Despite Burt's protests, Kurt decided to wear a brown button down shirt, pink and tight jeans, and a bow tie, with turkeys on it. Cousins would be nice, Burt tried to reassure himself. They wouldn't act like the kids who made fun of Kurt every day at school. His thinking failed, yet again.
It went wrong from the second they entered the door. After the pleasantries, and the false remarks about how much Kurt had grown, Billy, reluctantly, invited Kurt to play football with them.
"No thank you." Kurt replied quietly. "I don't really like sports."
"Buddy, why don't you try to play football with the boys?" Burt suggested. Kurt shrugged, and followed his other much larger cousins outside.
"How come you don't like football?" Billy asked.
"Billy, he's a… what's that word that dad used?" Rick replied.
"He's a homo, Billy." Dan replied. "Why else would he wear pink pants?" The other little boys nodded in agreement.
"My mommy bought me these pants." Kurt sassed back, not missing a beat. "They're fashionable, unlike the t-shirts and shorts that you cling to so people will think that you're cool, even though your just a… a… a big bully!" Kurt huffed, and sat down on the cold front porch. His cousins just rolled their eyes, and began to throw the ball, pretending that Kurt wasn't even there.
Back in the family room, Burt, Katherine, and Tommy were talking, and having even less fun than Kurt, if that was possible.
"Burt, you have gotta do something about that boy!" Tommy admonished.
"What's wrong with him? He's always very polite." Burt played dumb. He knew where this conversation was going. He'd had the same one with his dad last Easter.
"Burt, he's wearing pink pants!" Katherine exclaimed.
"He's just a little bit individualistic!" Burt defended. "He likes the pants!"
"Do you want him to grow up to be a faggot?" Tommy asked. Katherine just nodded in agreement.
"He's my son!" Burt yelled. "Whatever he ends up being, will be just fine with me! I'm leaving now, thanks for his hospitality!" Burt ran out the door, scooped Kurt up, and buckled him in the car. It was silent for a really long time.
"Daddy, they called me a homo. Is that a bad thing?"
"No, buddy. It's not a bad thing… It's all gonna be okay." Kurt and Burt arrived home an hour later. Burt ordered Chinese food, and they watched The Sound Of Music together. It was Kurt's favorite, but by the time it was over, Kurt was asleep, so Burt switched it to football. Of course, a few minutes later, the little boy's eyes fluttered open.
"Daddy, I don't like football." Kurt commented, rolling his eyes. Burt couldn't help but smile.
"I know, kiddo, and that's not a bad thing. It's fine, okay. And don't let anyone tell you other wise, alright?" Kurt nodded, before drifting into a peaceful slumber once again.
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"Dad, I can do it, so leave me alone! Go watch football, or something!" Kurt insisted. It was three years later, and the parental resentment of preteen-dom had set in. Now, Kurt was attempting to make an entire Thanksgiving feast. Needless to say, it was failing, but Kurt was resisting help. A few hours later, the twelve year old called Burt to the table. It was set meticulously. There was a red tablecloth, and small, ceramic turkeys covered the table. "I think I did it right this year, Dad!" The table was already covered with plates of mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, string beans, and the other parts of a traditional thanksgiving dinner. Kurt started to pick up the turkey from the counter. It was twice as large as his head, and it probably weighed about the same.
"Kurt, do you want me to help?" Burt asked from the table.
"NO!" He screamed. Kurt tried to balance the bird as he made the four-foot trip from the counter to the table; he was almost there. He did it. A perfect thanksgiving.
"Here, kiddo, let me put it on the table." Burt attempted to grab the turkey.
"NO!" Kurt screamed again. He swatted Burt's hand away, which caused the turkey to go tumbling down. It almost happened in slow motion. Both father and son yelled as it crashed against the kitchen floor. Kurt immediately bent down, and sobbed over the turkey. Burt knelt down to try and comfort him.
"It's going to be okay. We can just buy a pre-made one at the store." Burt reassured.
"NO!" Kurt sobbed. "No! It's not okay! It's never okay!" Kurt screamed, and ran up to his room, where he his until the next morning.
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Finally, Kurt worked it out. Thanksgiving wasn't exactly fun, but it was something he could get to. He figured out how to make the perfect turkey, and he always got a small one, so it didn't fall. He and Burt had a quiet day every year. It worked. That was, until the first thanksgiving after Burt and Carole got married. It was nice at first, Carole helped Kurt in the kitchen, and so he didn't get so lonely. He and Finn actually talked at dinner, so the meal wasn't just filled with uncomfortable silences. It was fine. Soon after, Kurt retreated to the living room, where he fell asleep…
"Kurt! There's someone here for you!" Carole's sweet voice called. Quickly, Kurt jumped up, and ran towards the door. He found Blaine, standing there, with a pumpkin pie in his hands, and a sweet smirk on his face.
"I know you hate thanksgiving, but I thought that I might be able to make it a little bit better."
"I thought you were at your grandparents…"
"Megan faked sick so we could leave. It was miserable."
"I'm sorry. Do you want to… sit?" Kurt gestured awkwardly towards the window bench. Blaine sat down, and pulled out forks.
"Shall we eat?" Kurt grabbed a fork, and began to eat the pie. It was half gone, before Blaine set it down.
"I'm so thankful I have you, Kurt." Blaine passionately kissed Kurt, just like the first time. The taste of pumpkin pie was still in his mouth, and their tongues gently circled each other.
Maybe thanksgiving wasn't so bad after all.
AN: Yes, I know that Kurt and Blaine didn't get together until after thanksgiving, but throw me a bone! Happy thanksgivng!
Review?
Love,
Megan