"Hi dad."
Kurt hardly ever calls him at work, so alarm bells are already ringing for Burt Hummel. He retreats to the office and closes the door so he can concentrate. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing. I just need you to do me a quick favour." Kurt's using that tone of voice that suggests Burt is going to be unhappy very soon.
"Does it involve money?"
"No dad."
"Go on."
"Well, I was just wondering if you could call in sick for me."
Burt frowns. "Are you sick?"
Kurt pauses. He briefly considers lying, which would worry his dad but also guarantee that he wouldn't have to abandon Puck to go to school. "No, but Puck is and there's no one else to look after him."
Those alarm bells go off again. "Puck?"
"Noah Puckerman." Kurt admits, reluctantly.
"The punk ass kid who nailed our lawn furniture to the roof?"
"To be fair, it was hardly a single handed operation..."
Burt growls. "The kid's an asshole. He's at our house? Do you need me to come home?" Because he will, in a heartbeat, with a shotgun.
"No! What I need is for you to call in sick for me. Puck's... It's really bad."
"Tell me."
Kurt takes a deep breath to steady himself. He still sounds kinda quivery like he gets when he's tearful. "I can't. He's been humiliated enough."
Burt feels concerned despite his dislike for the kid. "He's all right though?"
"I don't know."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes dad. I'm fine."
Burt sighs. "Let him know he can stay as long as he needs to. I'll call the school for you."
"Thank you, dad."
"See you later Kurt."