'It's just a bike, Kurt.' Burt assured his son. He leant over a tiny green bicycle, little neon lights attatched to the spokes on both the front and back wheel. He could feel his back straining a little as he leant, but this was Kurt's bike, Kurt's birthday bike, and Kurt was going to learn to ride it.

His son shook his head in distress. 'I'm not setting foot near that death-trap!' His high pitched voice squealed, and Burt couldn't help but smile. 'It won't hurt you.' He assured Kurt once again, but his son simply scoffed, his hair bouncing a little as he threw his head back. 'Try telling that to Anthony Rimmer..' He mumbled.

Burt rolled his eyes. 'That Rimmer kid is a daredevil, you're smart enough to take care of yourself.' Kurt chewed nervously at the nail on his right index-finger. 'It's his own fault that he broke his wrist, and you know it.' He grinned at his son. He could see the hesitation in Kurt's eyes, the fear that had taken over him ever since his mother had passed away.

There was so much of his wife in Kurt—he had inherited her eyes, her delicate skin colour and certainly her voice, however he had also been lucky enough to gain some of the less physical aspects too, such as her gentle nature and understanding. He was much wiser than other boys of his age, and after everything he had been through, he was strong too. Strong like her.

The nine year old boy watched his dad with sad eyes. Burt lowered the bike to the ground, careful not to scratch the paint on the rough tarmac outside their simple house in mainstream Lima. He walked the short distance between himself and his son, and pulled the boy into his arms, clutching him tight to his chest. Kurt nuzzled into his father's figure, breathing heavily into Burt.

'There's nothing to be scared of. Come on,' Burt soothed, as Kurt pulled away, looking him in the eye. 'I'll push you until you get the hang of it.'

Within moments, Kurt was sitting atop the green bike, feet cautiously resting on the pedals. Burt held the back of the bike by the seat, steadying it and allowing his son to find some kind of balance. The boy nodded slightly, a determined expression set upon his face. He had so many fears—both rational and irrational—but he always found a way to conquer them.

'Okay Dad, I'm ready.' He whispered softly.

Burt pushed the bike as Kurt began to pedal, and slowly, they made their way down the path from their garage door and out into the quiet road of their street. Kurt pedalled faster, and Burt now had to keep up a steady jog to keep behind the bicycle. Kurt's face broke into a wide smile as he looked back at his dad's beaming face—eyes shining with happiness. The tassles on the handlebars swung a little as they reached the middle of the road, and Burt let go.

'You can do it!' He encouraged, and Kurt carried on pedalling, both unable to and unaware of how to stop. It seemed to be the one thing his dad hadn't mentioned.

Burt watched as his son was carried away by the green bike, and when Kurt's little face turned around to grin at him, he clapped his hands in approval and grinned right back. He felt so proud of his son in that moment, for a split second he was going to run into the house and call for his wife to come and see what their son was doing, and then, he caught himself.

At that moment, the front wheel of the bike started to swerve, and Kurt lost control.

'Dad!' He cried, as the bike tipped over to the left and he fell, hands landing on the tarmac—rather them than his face, Burt thought—and the bike fell onto his right leg. He instantly tried to sit up again as Burt ran over in a frenzy of panic. Kurt was so little, and so delicate, and he was everything to Burt. He'd walk to the ends of the Earth to protect his son.

He hurried across the tarmac to his son and knelt down, cupping Kurt's face in his hand and smoothing his cheek with his thumb. He checked for cuts, scratches and scrapes, but amazingly, there wasn't a mark on him. Kurt wriggled a little in Burt's grip, laughing and assuring his dad that he was fine, still managing to smile despite his failure.

'That's enough for one day.' Burt sighed, but Kurt shook his head.

'No!' He cried defiantly. 'No, I want another go!' With that, Burt's little son heaved himself up, dragging the bike with him, and repositioned himself on the seat. Face set into a stern expression, he began to pedal, this time without anybody to support him.

He was doing it. Kurt Hummel had mastered the art of bike riding.

He started to giggle with glee and Burt couldn't help but grin as his son began to cycle rings around him, laughing joyfully as he went. Everything about Kurt reminded Burt of his wife, reminded him of the memories they had shared as a family. It had pained Burt to see his son so sad, and now to see him conquering a fear—it was everything. And he knew that one day, Kurt would look back on that moment and see just how far they'd gone since that day.


Arabella here (:

Grilled Cheesus was on today, I cried the whole way through. And seeing as I've been having some writer's block (hence the awfulness that is this fic) I needed to write this to get the stupid fanfic-bunny out of my head. So here it is.

Reviews appreciated (:
Disclaimer - I do not own Glee, nor am I involved in anything related and/or affiliated with it's writers, the cast or the crew.