Burt was in the front yard, changing the oil in his car. It had been a lazy day. Kurt had been blessedly entertaining himself all day, setting up all of his old stuffed animals up in the kitchen to play restaurant. He had spent a good half hour just trying to get the calligraphy on the menu right. It was sweet. Seeing his son so occupied, Burt had taken advantage and laid out in the hammock in the back yard and taken a good long nap. He didn't get those often enough as a single parent with a business—maybe he was finally getting the hang of this. It had been ten months since they'd lost Elizabeth, and some days he was still drowning in the responsibility and unresolved grief of it all. It was a win to have an easy day. Rested, he was now ready to check off some items on the to do list and maybe he'd splurge and take the kid to dinner tonight.

"DAD!"

The scream sent such a bolt of fear into Burt Hummel's heart that he dropped the oilcan on the driveway.

"DAD! DAD! HELLLLP!" The panicked 9 year old collided right with Burt as he came running at the front door. "I'M SOORRRRYYYY DAD I'M SORRY!" Kurt screamed.

"Calm down!" Burt yelled, in a voice that was probably unlikely to calm anyone down. "What's wrong?"

Unable to catch his breath and starting to cry, Kurt shakily pointed in the direction of the kitchen, where Burt could see a flame flickering over the pan on the stove.

"Holy sh- stay there!" Burt yelled, pushing Kurt a bit roughly in the direction of the door. Burt ran into the kitchen and pulled the fire extinguisher from under the cabinet, spraying it on the fire just in time.

Burt exhaled, his head pounding. He looked around the kitchen. Kurt had pulled out half a dozen different pots and pans. There was flour all over the counter, and a bottle of syrup had been knocked over on the table, leaving a puddle of sticky goo dripping on the floor. His stuffed animals were still sitting at all the chairs, staring back at him like nothing had happened.

Burt turned back to see his son hanging by the front door, nervously eyeing him. "What the hell, Kurt?" Burt spat, regretting it immediately. He shouldn't talk to his kid like that, Elizabeth would have had his head about stuff like that, but just… what. the. hell.

Kurt sniffled. "It got hot and I was gonna turn it down but… I got scared," he murmured.

"Since when are you supposed to be playing with the stove?"

Kurt sniffled with a pout. "I'm going into fourth grade, Dad," he said, as if that should be answer enough.

"Well you're not going to get there if you burn the house down! You're not three years old anymore, I should be able to go outside for a bit and not need to call the fire department!" Burt blurted.

Kurt's face crumpled a bit and he looked away. "...I wanted to make paella," he whimpered, embarrassedly brushing at the tear sneaking down his cheek.

Burt sighed. He forced himself to bring his voice lower. "Kurt, buddy, all you had to do was ask me—"

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "You don't know how to make paella!"

Burt's face froze. He wasn't expecting his kid to get fresh right now. "Kurt—" he tried, "I'm the adult here and you're—"

"You probably don't even know what paella is! You don't even know how to make anything if it's not on a barbecue!" young Kurt accused.

Burt's mouth hung open. Then Kurt stomped his foot in frustration and ran to his room.

"Kurt!" Burt yelled just as the door slammed. He felt an impulse to chase him and he grabbed hold of the counter as though it were a tether. Slow down, he told himself. He took a breath and counted to ten. Just looking around the kitchen, he couldn't believe how much of a mess Kurt had made in such a short time. It couldn't have even been that long that he'd been outside. God, this was exactly the kind of time he missed Elizabeth the most. If she were here he'd walk it off around the neighborhood while she stayed here. But when you're a single parent you don't get to take turns. Especially when apparently your kid might accidentally set the house on fire when you're just ten feet outside the front door. What the fuck, Kurt. I'm too old for this.