A/N: Surprise, more Evan and Oliver and the GYOW lot. This is a few weeks after Star By Star. Close to my imagined date for Burt's birthday, so it's the end of July. There's a decent amount of focus on the incoming baby, which will be introduced with the next one shot I post sometime soon. No triggers or warnings of any kind that I can think of. Just Evan eating too much for the hundredth time. He's like one of those stray cats you start feeding, then you eventually take him inside and he continues to gorge himself even though there's always food around. That's Evan Hummel, all right.
Enjoy!
Taffy
Carnival music danced around Burt's head as he rolled onto his back and groaned. The little delighted noises continued to chime. Burt swiped his hand over the night-stand, catching his phone and sending it toppling to the floor. His hopes that the fall had silenced his phone were immediately dashed.
"CIRCUS AFRO POLKA DOT POLKA DOT POL–!"
With a grimace, Burt rolled onto his side and fumbled around until he found the phone on the floor. Evan had taken his phone captive the last time he'd been for a visit and changed his ringtone to the ridiculous little jingle. Six months later, Burt still hadn't figured out how to switch it back.
"Hello?" he grumbled, flopping back into the pillows and watching the ceiling fan make its slow rotation overhead.
"Dad, are you seriously still sleeping?" Kurt's static-y voice trickled through the line, muffled by the radio and several other voices in the background.
Burt grunted and rolled towards the middle of the bed to glance at the alarm clock. 11:07. It wasn't that late. "I'm an old man now, Kurt," he reminded his son. "I'm allowed to sleep in."
"Fifty-one is not old, Dad," Kurt chided as Blaine made a noise of agreement in the background.
"Fifty-two," Burt corrected even though his birthday was still three days away. "Over half a century is old."
"Bullshit," Blaine's voice said in the background. "Tell him old is when he can start braiding the tufts of hair growing out of his ears. And if he doesn't make it to at least ninety, I'll kill him myself."
There were several laughs in the background . Children's laughter. His stomach bubbled at the reminder. Several weeks ago, Blaine and Kurt had called him and Carole to announce they were taking in another young boy. Oliver was a few years younger than Evan was now, and rather quiet from all Burt had heard about him in the last few weeks. Today, he and Carole would finally meet him.
"Sounds like the boys are getting along," Burt said after a moment of listening to their delighted voices in the background.
"Yeah–" Suddenly there was a loud, pained groan that Burt connected with Evan. "Oh my god, Evan Michael did you eat that entire bag?"
There was some shuffling static and then Evan's voice, loud and squeaky, came through the phone. "But it was just there, Dad. This whole giant bag and it taunted me–"
"Not again," Blaine groaned.
"Kurt?" Burt called, easing himself into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes. "What's that boy of yours gotten himself into now?"
There was more scuffling, another pained groan, and the crinkling of a plastic bag. "No– Ollie grab that paper one out of the back, just in case," Kurt's voice ordered. A few seconds later, Kurt was back on the phone, sounding flustered and irritated. "I might kill him," he grumbled. "You might still only have three grandsons when we arrive instead of four."
"Really?" Burt remarked in amusement. "What's he done today?"
"Remember last summer when we all went to Ocean City together?" Burt grunted in acknowledgement. "Remember when you took him down to the boardwalk and bought him that enormous box of salt water taffy?"
"And then he ate the entire thing on the walk back?" Burt finished, laughing at the memory. "Hard to forget an afternoon like that. I don't think I've ever seen a kid quite as impressed with the color of his own vomit."
"Well, we're about to have a repeat in the backseat because someone is a glutton," Kurt said, ending on a snappy snarl.
Evan tried to protest, but ended up groaning pitifully.
Another voice, a new one Burt wasn't familiar with, entered the picture. It was high, but scratchy, and drenched in accusation. "Did you eat my Cherry Cola ones, too?"
"I– they're so delicious, Ollie, I can't stop myself–"
"You're a swine!"
"Boys!" Blaine's voice broke in. "Evan, face in the bag. Ollie, kick him if he doesn't do as I just said."
"But Papa!" Evan hollered in outrage.
"Face in the bag," Kurt demanded. It was clear to Burt that he was gritting his teeth and ready to start snarling again.
"Kurt, it's just a car, okay? Kids throw up wherever they throw up," Burt soothed. "When will you guys be here?"
"If our little vomit factory keeps a lid on it, then around dinner time," Kurt said bitingly.
In the background, Burt heard another groan and then the splatter of something against paper.
"Gross!" Oliver shouted. "Put him on the roof or something!"
"I've gotta–"
"Say no more," Burt said, listening to the chaos as Blaine pulled the SUV over and they all started scrambling out. "Call when you're getting close."
Carole appeared from the connecting bathroom, robe tied around her waist and towel on her head. Burt ended the call and set his phone back on the night-stand.
"Sounds like they're having quite a road trip," she remarked with a smile.
"You know Evan," Burt agreed. "That boy is just like our three were that last year before college. Eats anything in sight and regrets it later."
"I'm so glad we don't have to deal with those grocery bills anymore," Carole said, rubbing her hair dry and sitting down at the vanity. "Blaine and Finn were bad enough their Junior year, but then Kurt started eating three times as much as he was before and–"
"I'm still pretty sure that was because of all the sex those two kept sneaking off and having all around the house," Burt said with a frown. Five days a week he'd come home to find them tumbling out of a closet or bathroom or the attic. It hadn't taken a genius to figure it out. Tousled hair, wrinkled shirts, and hands scrambling for the waistbands of jeans could only mean so many things.
"He did grow a lot that year," Carole insisted. Over a decade later and she still insisted that the boys hadn't devoted half the house to their urges. His son had grown a lot more the year he'd met Blaine and the year prior than he had his senior year. "Broader shoulders and slimmed down a lot more."
It was true, even if Burt had no plans on letting go of his long held suspicions. The boys' senior year had been rough for him. Trying to navigate helping three boys plan for college and move to new cities would have been difficult on its own. But trying to figure out his relationship with his son's boyfriend once we moved in had been infinitely harder.
"I still–"
Carole silenced him with a kiss, patted his cheek, and nodded towards the bathroom. "Get showered and dressed so we can go to the store and fill this house up for the boys, okay? Oh, I can't wait to meet Oliver," she added, eyes bright. "Another grandson, Burt. I bet he's wonderful. And we get to meet baby Lee when Finn and Kate get here in a few days. Oh, I bet he's already getting so big, and Jack is three now."
"Oliver sounded pretty upset with Evan over the phone." At Carole's questioning look he added, "Evan ate another huge bag of taffy. Barfing it up as we speak."
Carole rolled her eyes, but smiled just the same as Burt climbed out of bed and went to take a shower.
Oliver glowered at the seat next to him as Evan groaned and buried his head in the five gallon paint bucket they'd stopped off to buy. After an hour of repeated stopping, it had become clear Evan's stomach wasn't letting up anytime soon. The wet slap of vomit hit the inside of the bucket again, plopping down into the evidence of Evan's last retching feast.
"I take back everything I said," Oliver grumbled, bringing his shirt up over his nose and pinching his nostrils closed. "I don't like having a brother at all."
Evan gagged and poked his sweaty face out of the bucket. "But Ollie–"
"No," he snapped. "You're filth."
"I'm just a little– blargh!"
Oliver grimaced as Evan ducked back down.
"We're almost there, guys, I promise," Kurt called from the front seat. Oliver glanced towards him, watching him fiddle with the GPS as Blaine insisted he didn't need it.
"Kurt, we've made this drive a thousand times, just shut it up," Blaine said, teeth gritted and voice tight. "If it tells me to make one more U-turn on this highway, I'm gonna–"
"Turn left in half a mile–"
"We're on the highway coming up on a bridge! There is no left turn!" Blaine yanked the console out of Kurt's hand and tossed it back towards Oliver. It tumbled over the back of his seat and down between two of their travel bags.
"Blaine Xavier, if you broke her–"
"Her?" Blaine echoed in disbelief. "You gave that thing a gender?"
Oliver watched them bicker in fascination. The other couples he'd lived with had usually ignored each other or had screaming matches once in a while. For whatever reason, he always seemed to get taken in by a pair of hot heads. In the month that he'd been with the Hummels, he'd never seen Kurt and Blaine snap at each other. Every morning and evening was filled with playful banter, even a few moody snips at each other now and again. Yet each one, without fail, had always ended in bright laughs, toothy smiles, and sweet kisses dotting one of the men's cheeks and noses.
"Just because I'd rather use Siri to direct us," Kurt began, but Blaine snarled as he merged onto the exit ramp for a place called Lima.
Oliver watched the street lamps flicker on as they pulled up at the red light off the exit ramp. This was the closest Kurt and Blaine had ever come to a real fight.
"I know how to get back to Lima without some stupid, artificial bi–"
"Turn left onto Colander Avenue," Siri's muffled, but crisp, clear voice said from the pile of luggage.
And just like that Kurt and Blaine snorted and started laughing. They still just got each other. It was a welcomed sound with Evan's stomach still splattering all over the inside of his big orange bucket.
"You okay, sport?" Blaine asked, glancing over his shoulder as the light turned green.
Evan only groaned and let his hands swing at his sides, forehead pressed against the bucket rim.
"Maybe this time you'll learn to not eat so much," Kurt quipped, twisting in the passenger seat as Evan groaned again. He ran his hand through Evan's damp curls before looking at Oliver. "You doing okay? I know this hasn't been any fun for you either."
"I'll let you know once I've finished debating whether smelling it is worse than tasting it," Oliver answered. He shot another glare at the back of Evan's head.
"At least you don't have to do both," Evan mumbled.
Kurt patted Oliver's knee and sighed. "Ten minutes and you'll be free from each other for the night," Kurt soothed. "Dad said he wanted to set up the old tents and camp out in the backyard with you boys. You can lock him out there if you want."
"Hey!" Evan's voice echoed around his bucket followed by another gag and more vomit.
Oliver swallowed at the mention of the man who might be his new grandfather. He hadn't missed Kurt's conversation with his father earlier. It had been impossible to ignore when Kurt mentioned him having four grandsons now because that four included him.
Finn, Kurt's step-brother, was the father of two little boys. Evan talked about the older one, Jack, all the time. Yesterday, he'd caught Oliver up on the three-year-old's first steps, cute clapping when he got excited, and his desire to climb the nearest table so he could roll off it. Then there was the new baby, Lee, born only a week and a half after Oliver had found himself with the Hummels. Burt was a grandfather for both of them and Evan, and now, if he was lucky, himself. A grandfather was something Oliver had never had before. The other foster parents had never allowed him to meet any of their parents. Once he'd met one woman's sister, but she'd been more frightening than having a walrus dropped on top of him.
"You're gonna love him," Blaine called from the driver's seat as he turned off onto another road. Oliver watched a high school flash past his window, just catching the name – McKinley – before it was out of sight. "Burt looks big and gruff and like he might run you over with a beat up old Chevy, but he's a kitten on the inside, Ollie. A big, fluffy orange kitten."
"I'm allergic to cats," Oliver deadpanned. One foster house had belonged to a older couple, six foster children all older than Oliver, and several dozen cats that came and went as through the hole in the screen door. Oliver had made it two days before he'd ducked out. He'd used the couple dollars he'd found in the couch to grab a bus to town to find a payphone to call the Center.
"It's a good thing Evan wants a puppy and not a kitten then," Blaine replied, flashing Oliver a grin in the rearview mirror. "Don't look so worried," he added after a moment. "Evan about had a tic heart attack when he met Burt and Carole, but look at him now. Loves his grandparents to death."
"Except when Pop buys me taffy and destroys all my willpower to say no to its deliciousness ever again," Evan rasped. His head trembled as he looked up from the bucket. "Please, tell me we're here. I think my esophagus has shut down and everything's pushing the other way. Oh, I'm never eating taffy again." Evan gave a small whimper and stared imploringly at Oliver. "Murder me if I even think about looking at another piece of taffy."
"Would you prefer death by gunshot, gas, pills, or blade?" Oliver returned, his glare losing its sharpness as he took in Evan's face. For the last few hours he'd refused to look at him. There hadn't been much point with Evan's head buried in his bucket. Up close, Evan looked like damp parchment.
"Death by soccer, please," Evan decided, lower lip jutting out. "You're the best little brother ever."
"I'm not sharing a bed, room, or tent with you until your stomach's back under your control," Oliver said flatly.
Evan glared at him as the SUV pulled to a stop in a short, double-wide driveway. Oliver looked out his window as Blaine hopped out in front of him. They'd stopped at a little two story house. The last rays of sunlight dipped below the roofs across the street.
It was smaller than the Hummels house in Northport, just a little brick cube dropped flat on the lawn. There was a small porch along the right side, ending where the garage connected, with a cute wooden swing hung in front of a large bay window. Oliver took it all in as Kurt and Blaine helped Evan and his bucket out. A tall apple tree swayed at the corner of the yard. There were flower beds of lilacs, daisies, and yellow roses dotted with Disney statues he'd never seen the movies for.
"Carole wasn't lying when she said she'd gotten into her gardening," Kurt remarked as he came around to Oliver's side, big bucket in tow. Oliver grimaced as the contents sloshed around. Blaine and Evan appeared a few seconds later, Evan tucked up in Blaine's arms, head resting on Blaine's shoulder. It was almost comical to watch considering how big Evan was, but Blaine didn't even stagger under the boy's weight.
"He's getting way too big for that, Blaine," Kurt mentioned as they headed up the porch to the house. He eyed Evan's legs dangling down near Blaine's knees. "Another six months and he'll be as tall as you."
"Oh, he will not," Blaine insisted. "He's not even five feet. Let me carry one of our boys while I still can."
"Will so," Evan mumbled.
"Blaine," Kurt said in exasperation, "we'll have a real little baby that you can carry around as much as you want in a few months, so–"
"No," Blaine said. He hoisted Evan up higher and stuck his tongue out at Kurt.
"Papa, I think my butt's gonna vomit next. Make it stop," Evan whined.
"No can do, kid," Blaine said, adjusting his weight on his hip as Kurt rolled his eyes. "You can sleep in the bathtub tonight if it keeps up. We'll get the big puffy sleeping bag out and everything for you."
"Really?" Evan said, perking up and looking hopeful. "That would be so cool. Ollie, do you want to–"
"No," Oliver said immediately as Kurt knocked. "I am not spending the night in a bathroom with you vomiting from your face and butt."
"Door's open!" a voice from inside hollered. It was deep and gruff, just like Blaine had described. Oliver gulped as Kurt opened the door and led the way in. "Dad, it's us!" Kurt's voice echoed down the hallway as Oliver glanced around his hip in wonder.
"We're out back!"
Kurt set the huge orange bucket by the front door and dropped down in front of Oliver. "Now just relax and be yourself, okay, sweetie? They'll love you no matter what." Kurt leaned in and straightened his collar, hair, and glasses. "Honey?" Kurt called as he stood up. Blaine grunted as he adjusted Evan's weight again. "One, put him down. He's thirteen and can walk, vomit factory or not. Two, I'm going to go dump the bucket and clean it out, okay?"
Blaine nodded and set Evan down. Oliver watched the other boy dart off towards what he assumed was the backyard. Every sign of sickness had vanished. With another gulp, Oliver stayed where he was, rooted to the floorboards. Kurt plucked the bucket up and disappeared to the other side of the house.
"It's okay, kiddo," Blaine said. His hand settled on Oliver's shoulder as he squatted down and mused up his hair. Oliver smiled at the gesture. For every time Kurt combed and arranged each dark strand, Blaine came right behind him and ruffed it up just how Oliver liked to keep it. "You're not gonna get sick on me, too, are you?"
Oliver shook his head as Evan's voice, cracking and squeaking like it had been off and on since they'd met, echoed back towards them.
"Pop! Nana!"
Two other voices, quieter but just as excited, followed.
"Y'know, the first time I met Burt and Carole was in McKinley's parking lot. I said some sh– terrible things then," Blaine admitted, lips quirked somewhere between a grimace and a fond smile. "I guarantee you couldn't make a worst first impressive on them if you tried."
"You must have made an amazing second impression," Oliver said in wonder. He'd heard bits and pieces of Kurt and Blaine's college years and even less of their high school days. Each of those tidbits made him think Blaine had been in a lot of trouble as a kid.
"Well, it definitely helped that his son was completely in love with me by that point," Blaine agreed. "You've got that same advantage on your side. Triple it, since you've got me and Evan, too." When Oliver still twisted his arms, Blaine ruffed his hair again and nodded towards where Evan had disappeared. "Second time I met him was in the living room at their old house. Had a big gash through my eyebrow – that's where I got this scar," he brushed a thumb over the break in his right eyebrow. "I hadn't slept in about four days and smelled like the inside of that bucket."
Oliver crinkled his nose in disgust.
"Yeah, it was bad," Blaine said with a soft laugh. "I was a wreck, Oliver. And Burt still let me in and gave me a second chance. He's a great, caring guy and the best father I've ever met. Give him a chance, because I know he'll give you one or two or even five or six, okay?"
Oliver nodded as Blaine stood up and allowed himself to be steered into a small kitchen. He didn't bother correcting Blaine about who the best father was. Maybe Blaine didn't count himself because he couldn't meet himself. Kurt was up there on that list, too, though. They must have learned to be so wonderful from Burt.
Blaine led him through the open back door and onto a wooden deck. The house was bigger than he'd thought, less of a cube and more of an L-shape with the longer part extending out into the yard. At the end of it the deck dropped off to a pool, lit only by the lights under the surface. Evan was already at the edge, stripping his shirt and shoes off. Something sizzled and the same gruff voice from before spoke.
"He's not gonna throw up in my pool, is he?"
With a laugh and another squeeze of Oliver's shoulder, Blaine let go and stepped towards the couple at the grill. Oliver watched them greet each other, looking over the woman first as Blaine and Burt embraced. She was several inches shorter than Blaine with a handful of gray streaks through her hair and rather plump around the middle. Her face was soft, though, and her smile as bright and kind as the rest of the Hummels.
Burt was different; much like Blaine had described. A worn pair of jeans, an old flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a faded baseball cap with a team logo Oliver couldn't place. Evan would be able to tell him which team it was, but he was splashing in the pool and making a huge racket.
Blaine hugged Carole next, and Burt glanced over towards him. Oliver ducked his head and twisted around until a hand patted his shoulder. It was too large and heavy to be Blaine's.
"You must be Oliver."
Oliver glanced up, lower lip sucked between his teeth and met Burt's warm gaze.
"Yes, sir," he answered.
"None of that sir stuff, all right? Call me Burt, kid," Burt told him. He eyed the pool for a minute and leaned down a little more. "I've got a whole box of taffy hidden upstairs if you want some. Way I understand it, a certain thirteen year old ate most of yours."
"I– he nabbed all my cherry colas and cinnamon ones," Oliver admitted. "Kept trying to impress me with his blood colored vomit."
Burt threw his head back then, laughing that same loud laugh that Oliver had heard from inside. It made his stomach settle comfortably in his belly and his shoulders relax. If Burt was laughing then he must like him.
"He did the same thing last time, only it was purple and green then," Burt told him with a grin. "Kept calling it Joker vomit. Kid's a loon."
"I am not!" Evan hollered, popping out of the water by the deck. "Come on, Ollie! I can't have a splash war by myself!"
With a loud plop, Evan flung himself backwards and underwater.
"Go on, sweetie," a softer voice encouraged. Carole's smile was warmer than melted chocolate when he looked at her. "Another hour and it'll be time to head in for the night."
At Blaine's nod, Oliver stumbled towards the pool and striped down to his swim shorts. He watched the trio of adults gather around the grill, smiling and talking as whatever was cooking finished up. That meeting had been easier than he'd thought it was going to be. No spitting old people snarling at him for stepping in the wrong place or for breathing louder than necessary. There wasn't even a painful cheek pinch like he'd heard some of the other boys at the Center grumble about. Burt and Carole were a lot younger than he'd expected them to be; late fifties at most.
"Come on!"
Evan's words were followed by a huge wave of water engulfing Oliver and drenching him. Spluttering and ready for revenge for the vomit-filled car ride, Oliver flung himself in after Evan and set to work.
With a last rinse, Kurt grimaced and sat the bucket upside down in the tub to dry out. They were never buying Evan taffy again; not in five months or five years. Their house was now a taffy-free zone. After washing his hands, Kurt hurried out back, anxious to see how Oliver meeting his dad and Carole had gone.
"Looks like they're getting along well," Carole commented as he stepped outside.
There were two loud shouts of laughter from the pool and the sweet smell of grilled peppers for dinner. For a moment, Kurt watched their two boys horsing around in the pool and then snuck up behind Carole for a surprise hug.
"Oh, Kurt! It's so good to– oh my god, you have a beard!"
Kurt crinkled his face up as Carole hopped up and gave him a real hug. Then she pulled back and started petting over the brownish-red, neatly trim hair that lined his jaw. It wasn't long. Kurt had no plans on letting it get any sort of bushman fluff like Blaine had had before. Letting it grow gave his jaw and chin a sharper distinction from his neck and cheeks. Instead of a baby-faced thirty-year-old, a mature man had started peering back at him in the mirror.
"Burt, your son finally grew a beard," Carole said in amazement as she continued to brush her fingers over it. "After a dozen years of swearing he never would."
Burt gave a grunt and turned away from the grill to eye Kurt's jaw. "Looks good on you, kid."
"Looks sexy as hell," Blaine added, shooting Kurt a saucy wink. "Keeps me up all night with that scruff."
"Blaine," Kurt hissed, eyeing the pool. The boys were still splashing around, not a care in the world, though.
"They're busy," Blaine said, glancing over his shoulder as Kurt sat down beside Carole. "No dunking, Evan!"
"But–"
"I said no!"
Both boys groaned, but went back to kicking waves of water at each other.
"Any fights yet?" Burt asked, turning back to the grill.
"No," Kurt said, wringing his hands. "I'm starting to dread it. We figured it would have happened by now, but they're happy as clams."
"They usually gang up on us instead of each other," Blaine admitted with a frown. "It's kind of annoying."
Burt and Carole both laughed as Burt set the peppers on the last plate and started cleaning the grill off.
"It'll happen soon enough," Carole assured them. "You and Finn had known each other for close to a year before we moved in and you two had that big fight. Just don't take sides and be patient with them. If sounds like they're both used to having roommates, but being brothers and friends is much different."
Kurt nodded and looked back over to the pool, unable to stop himself from smiling at the sight of the two. They were calming down some now, grabbing goggles and tossing a handful of glowing diving sticks into the deep end. Watching them grow up together, to be real, great friends was what he and Blaine were both hoping for. It was a secret they'd each kept as little boys, something they'd wanted and had missed out on. Neither of them had admitted it until their first serious conversation about children back in college.
"Ready to eat?" Burt called, carrying several plates full of food over to the table. One was stacked high with grilled chicken breasts; another with green onions, peppers, and asparagus all grilled and still steaming. "There's baked beans inside. Plates are next to the stove now. Figured we'd get a head start before those two eat everything."
When they all agreed, Blaine forced Burt into a chair and headed inside to grab the plates and baked beans. As the boys continued to swim, the four of them dug in, filling their plates up and catching up on everything they'd been missing. Carole was retired from her nursing career and spending a lot more time gardening.
"I always wanted to have a little garden, but I didn't have the time when Finn was younger," Carole said as Kurt cut up his chicken. "He was always such a handful. He trampled over everything. And then I just sort of forgot about it for a long time. But everything's getting so expensive at the stores, so I figured why not."
"It looks fantastic," Kurt told her. "I've tried a few in the backyard, but there are so many big trees around the house that they don't get enough sun. The strawberries have been doing well, though. The tomatoes all get eaten by bugs before I can get to them."
Carole suggested a few ideas she'd implemented in her garden to keep the more unfriendly bugs away and turned to Blaine. "Are you still working on your master's? I talked to Lily last week and she said you're getting close to done."
"Yeah, another five classes or so, I think," Blaine said with a shrug. "I didn't have the time this summer to take another one. The store's been busy, and with all the preparations for the baby and then Oliver," he trailed off and shrugged again. "I figure I'll cut my time at the store once she's born and take one or two then–"
"She?" Burt echoed, looking up as Carole gave a thrilled little squeak. "I thought you guys said we were gonna be oh-for-five in the fall?"
Kurt glared at Blaine and swatted his shoulder. "Blaine, that was a surprise!"
"Oh, a granddaughter!" Carole bounced in her seat. "I saw the cutest little outfit at the mall last week!"
"We– it was– we only just found out because Lily let it slip," Blaine stammered. He shot Kurt a guilty look as Burt and Carole grinned and gushed over the news.
"What about feeding your grandsons first, huh?" Evan butted in. He plopped down next to Kurt as Oliver inched into the seat next to Blaine. "We're famished."
"And you'll stay famished until we're sure you aren't going to upchuck anymore," Burt informed him. "I heard all about your theft and vomit show."
"It was a spectacular!" Evan insisted. "At one point it almost came out of my nose–"
"Not at the table," Kurt ordered.
"Oliver, grab whatever you want," Blaine encouraged, handing him a plate. He glared at Evan and picked out a little bit of each and set it down in front of him. "There, start with that and see how it goes."
"But I'm starving," Evan complained, massaging his stomach and pouting. "Ollie, give me your–"
"No way, I've seen what food looks like when it comes back up on you," Oliver said sharply, aiming his fork at Evan's wandering hand. "My plate."
Everyone laughed as Evan whined and stared glumly down at his pitiful meal. "This sucks."
"No, listening to you get sick for nine hours sucks," Kurt corrected. "You're never having taffy ever again. I don't care if I'm long dead and you're on your death bed and it's your final request, okay? Ollie, don't give it to him even then."
The others all agreed, but Oliver's silence made Kurt look over. For a second, he worried, but when he caught the look on the boy's face he realized how much saying such a thing meant. Oliver still had no expectations of this being long-term. Even if it was for a few years, he didn't think it would last for decades, and certainly not a life time. As Oliver looked between them all in wonder, Burt returned the conversation to the baby.
"So what's her name going to be?"
"Anna Rose," Blaine beamed. "We thought about using our mothers' first names, but it didn't feel right to burden her with that."
"We'll have to take a trip up for Halloween this year, or a long Thanksgiving vacation now, and spoil her," Burt decided. Carole agreed. "She's due in October, right?"
"Supposed to be the fifth," Kurt said. He kept an eye on Oliver, who had dropped his gaze back to his plate and was looking uncomfortable again. Every time they mentioned the baby, Oliver got quiet and looked unsure of himself. Kurt hadn't brought it up with him yet, didn't want to push, but he and Blaine had their suspicions for why. For years, foster families had shunted Oliver around. From what they'd figured out, Oliver had been a live-in babysitter more than once. It wasn't a huge leap for him to think that once Anna was born, they'd send him away or make him Anna's keeper. "Oliver's starting middle school in another month, too. We've got so many things to buy him and then we get to do orientation and meet his teachers."
"We've got to get you registered, too. And physicals for any sports you might want to play. There's clubs you can join, too," Blaine added, sharing a silent glance with Kurt that told him Blaine had noticed, too. "Registration opens for new students on the first. We'll take a trip over to Northport the first day we're back and get you set up and pick classes. How's that sound?"
Oliver's cheeks turned pink, but he nodded and gave them a bashful smile. "D- do I get a locker and everything?"
"Yeah, they're only the half ones, so you can't get locked into one by the older kids," Evan said. "But none of them will mess with you because I'm an eighth grader this year and you're my kid brother. I'll kick anyone who tries it."
"Really?"
At Oliver's surprised and disbelieving look, Evan nodded and speared a pepper on his fork. "Duh, I'm the only one allowed to mess with you. Or Dad or Papa or Pop or Nana." He let out a piercing whistle, then and grimaced. "See what happens when you don't feed me enough? I start ticking."
"Shut it and eat," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "At least you're not doing that esophagus popper like the first time you met Burt and Carole."
"He did that the first time he met Jack, too," Carole said with a laugh. "That's the reason Burt is Pop."
"I wanted to be Grandpa," Burt explained at Oliver's confused look. "Jack was about a year old then and Evan was trying to teach him how to say Grandpa. He kept doing that tic and making this pop! So Jack started squealing about Pop and I became Pop."
"Better than Pap," Blaine told him. "That one just makes me think of pap smears."
The adults all grimaced, but at the mention Kurt's face fell. "Oh my god, we're having a daughter."
Blaine gave him a perplexed look. "Thanks for that, Captain Obvi–"
"We're going to have to take her to those kinds of appointments once she starts– and how do we explain any o- o- of that?" Kurt stammered in horror. "I don't know how any of that works!"
"Lily'll be on hand," Blaine said, but he looked unsure, too. "Or Grandma Carole," he added, winking at her. "Only a phone call away and we can educate ourselves a lot better on female reproduction before she starts puberty, Kurt. We've got a decade or more."
"But she's going to want a girl to take her to shop for all that stuff," Kurt realized. "And bras and– oh my god, aren't bra sizes letters and numbers and–"
"Woah, woah, slow down," Carole said. Her hand rubbed over Kurt's spine as he dropped his fork and rested his forehead on his palm. "She, and you two, are going to be just fine. She'll have plenty of women in her life to help her and guide her and she's going to have two incredible fathers, too."
"And two awesome big brothers!" Evan added. He grinned around at everyone. "I bet my girlfriend will wanna take her shopping and help out once she starts needing all that stuff!"
Blaine's knife clattered against his plate as he sucked in a deep breath. "Holy shit, what if she's straight? What if I have to beat boys away from her? I can't get arrested for beating children, Kurt. I've already caused too much trouble and– what if I'm too old and feeble and her boyfriends beat me?"
"Oh, stop it," Carole snapped. "Both of you. It's going to be fine. She is going to be so headstrong and brave, she'll be beating the boys, girls, or whoevers back with one hand."
"I–" Kurt swallowed and looked up. Oliver looked like a lion had just tried to maul his face. Evan was grimacing and rolling his eyes. His dad looked amused, Carole a little annoyed, and Blaine was taking deep breaths. "She's going to be beautiful."
That seemed to take Blaine's remaining worries and dash them aside. His smile was soft as he looked across the table at Kurt. "With your genes, she's going to be stunning."
"She's got a little bit of you, too," Kurt reminded him. "Maybe she'll end up with your eyes since Lily's are that same beautiful hazel-green."
"Oh, god," Evan groaned, another whistling tic echoing around the backyard. "Here they go again. They do this a lot, Ollie. It's endearing the first six months, but by the seventh it's just repulsive."
"Evan, you better be glad they love each other so much," Burt cut in. "You've both got two great, loving dads."
"Well, yeah, I'm just saying," Evan said, shrugging. "It's still cute," he added, as Blaine took Kurt's hand and they grinned at each other, "but it's annoying, too."
"I think it's sweet," Oliver said quietly. Kurt and Blaine both glanced over at him. "More parents need to love each other like you two do. Most of them just fight about nothing so much they end up thinking it's everything when it's not."
Kurt glanced at Blaine again and then took one of Oliver's hand is his other one. "We have some stupid fights, there's no denying that, but you don't have to worry about us losing focus on what's real and important. You're a part of this family now and you're already a son to us."
Oliver swallowed, looking overwhelmed as he let Blaine hug him to his side and Kurt squeeze his hand.
Evan burped, then winced as Kurt glared at him. "Manners, Evan."
"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his stomach. "Those peppers might have been a bad idea."
"Oh, not again–"
"I won't get sick, I promise!" Evan insisted, looking offended. "Jeez, you'd think the only thing I ever do is overeat and throw up the way you guys talk."
Kurt aimed his fork at Evan and gave him a pointed look. "Compared to everyone else at this table you do overeat. There's an entire empty shelf in the freezer that held fifteen pizzas a week ago, and it has your name on it."
"Ollie helped me eat those!"
"Since when does help mean sitting there watching you stuff your face?" Oliver quipped, frowning at Evan.
"We're cutting you back on the frozen dinners when we get back," Blaine decided as Evan's face fell. "If you're going to eat more than an elephant then it's at least going to be healthy food from now on."
"But–"
"Don't argue with your dads, sport," Burt cut in. "Even I can't win against them."
Evan glowered at his empty plate and stood up. "I'm going to bed," he said moodily.
"But–" Oliver stopped and watched him stalk off into the house, looking sad.
"Oh, you two are going to have your hands full," Burt chortled. "Your first baby and a moody teenager all at once."
"He's just... touchy about his food," Kurt decided with a frown. He stared after where Evan had just disappeared and shook his head. His son had had a rough day, that was all. He'd be his bright, excited self by morning.
"Oh, he's a hot-blooded, snappy, little pinball of teenage angst just waiting to unravel," Carole assured him. "His voice has cracked a dozen times since you guys got here."
Kurt mouthed silently at her observations. Evan was still their little boy. Still short and gangly with a round, adorable little face, not the chiseled jaw of a teenage boy or man.
"He got a girlfriend yet?" Burt wondered. "Or boyfriend? I know he likes girls. Had that huge crush on Beth when he met her."
"No," Blaine said quickly. "No, no, no girlfriends. He's too young–"
"I was his age when I had my first girlfriend," Burt remarked. "Little younger, if I remember right. End of seventh grade." At Kurt's horrified look, he added, "It wasn't anything real. Not that young. Just said we were dating, held hands in the halls for a few days, then she threw a big fit in the cafeteria and we broke up. That's all eight grade was for me. All that I remember anyway. High school was the same for the first few years."
Kurt groaned and buried his face in Carole's shoulder. "I'm so not ready for the fall."
She laughed loudly at him, and hugged him. "Oh, you'll be fine. Evan's a sweet boy. I'm sure whenever we starts dating it won't be like your father. He's a wonderful man, but he was a typical boy before he met your mother."
"I wasn't that bad," Burt replied, giving her a look. "I could have been worse."
"You were a heartbreaker on every count," Carole teased, smiling at him.
"Just like our boys," Burt said proudly. "Well, you two weren't," he decided, looking at Kurt and Blaine. "Stuck together since the day you met."
"Except that last year of college," Blaine said. "We both broke a few hearts that year."
"Put two important ones back together, too," Kurt reminded him, poking Blaine in the chest, right over his heart. "Come on, let's clean up and get to bed."
"I'll show you where you're sleeping, okay, Oliver?" Carole said as they all climbed up and headed inside with their plates.
"His bag's still in the car," Kurt added as Carole led Oliver past him and into the house.
"We'll get it, don't worry," Carole assured him.
Kurt watched them go, biting his lip, but Oliver seemed comfortable. He wasn't staring back at them like Carole was going to shove him into a volcano. Still, Kurt worried about him. For six weeks, they'd seen Oliver adapt to their house and life at a remarkable rate. The boy was quick and bright, and Kurt hoped he was comfortable and felt safe with them. But there was still a lot of learning and getting to know each other that would take years to figure out.
"He's okay," Blaine murmured against Kurt's neck. A soft kiss lingered under his earlobe as Blaine nudged him inside. "Carole's great with kids."
"I know, I just want him to feel safe and loved when he's here," Kurt said quietly. "I don't want to crowd him too much. He likes his space."
"Yeah, Evan's going to be stomping around like an angry teenager. Then Oliver's going to be the one locking himself in his room for hours and shutting us out."
"At least Anna will still want to be around us," Kurt said. "I can't wait to have tea parties with her. Oh, I hope she wants to dress up like a princess or a warrior or–"
Blaine silenced him with a firm kiss as Burt rolled his eyes and shoved them both into the house.