Fridays by asesina
disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
a/n: inspired by the lovely scenes with Burt and Kurt in the most recent episode. This is meant to be a little scene after Burt wakes up in the hospital.
Enjoy.
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Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his father's fingers curl weakly around his hand.
"Dad?" he whispered in a hoarse, expectant voice.
Burt Hummel's eyes opened ever so slightly, and Kurt had to blink to ensure that he wasn't hallucinating the blue irises that swept left and right across the room before finally focusing on him.
"Dad, can you hear me?" Kurt asked.
He tightened his hand around his father's and felt his heart leap when his father squeezed back.
"Hey," Burt managed. His voice cracked with effort on the single syllable, and Kurt leaned forward with tears in his eyes.
"Dad," he repeated, but this time his words came as a breath, a sigh of relief, of ebullient exuberance that Kurt could barely contain.
"How long've I been out?" Burt asked hoarsely.
"Too long," Kurt murmured, and he had to restrain himself from tackling his father in a one-armed bear hug.
He settled for a gentle pat on the shoulder, but he let his hand linger for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I just- I've been all over the place for the past few days, and I came pretty close to-," he stopped, suddenly becoming reticent as he searched for the right thing to say.
"It's okay, Kurt. You don't have to say anything," Burt replied gently.
Kurt shook his head angrily.
"No, Dad. No. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself. I've been taking all this for granted, and I've been choosing music and theater over spending time with you, and I- I almost lost that," Kurt said hurriedly. He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.
In dismay, he realized that he had ruined his perfectly styled hair, but Kurt shook the thought.
Nothing mattered now. His jacket was wrinkled and his scarf probably looked like something that Charles Nelson Reilly would wear, but these were trivial when compared to the fact that he had almost lost his father.
"Dad, I've been pushing you aside for so long," Kurt said softly. "Seeing you like this makes me feel awful."
To Kurt's surprise, his father smiled.
"It's okay, Kurt. I understand that we don't have much in common. We probably never will, but I wouldn't trade our Friday nights for anything," Burt said quietly.
The hum of the monitors suddenly seemed overpowering. Kurt chewed on his lower lip and tried to plaster on a smile.
"So, Dad, what do you want to do when you get out of here?" he asked with forced levity.
"Ah, I don't know. You can still go see The Sound of Music if you want," Burt replied with a shrug.
"Are you crazy? I'm going to that greasy spoon diner with you, Dad! It won't be that bad," Kurt exclaimed.
"Well, I'm sure you'll be the best dressed person there," Burt said with a smile.
"Yeah, well flannel and denim isn't exactly hard to compete with," Kurt said with a smirk. "Although I could work on something like trucker chic," he added with a wink.
"Kurt, it's up to you. I don't want to make you miss something that you've been looking forward to for a year," Burt said.
Kurt shook his head fervently and put a hand on his father's arm.
"Dad, you've always been there for me. I don't always like the monster trucks and football games, but you were never obligated to drink high tea with me, or get me a Maria bonnet, for that matter," Kurt replied with a grin.
"If it makes you happy, I don't mind," Burt said.
Kurt's eyes threatened to tear up again, so he blinked rapidly and set his mouth in a determined smile.
"Well, I'll make sure that your doctors take wonderful care of you so that you'll be ready for dinner on Friday. I'll even pick up some beef jerky for you on the way out. I hope you don't mind the turkey kind, though. You should stay away from those awful sodium-laced Slim Jims, Dad," Kurt said apologetically.
Burt nodded and felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.
"Dad, I just wanted to say-," Kurt began. He walked over to the bed slowly as memories of his childhood danced across his consciousness.
"Thank you. Please, don't ever leave me," he whispered.
He leaned over his father gave him another quick, one-armed hug.
Kurt straightened his scarf and fixed his jacket as he turned away from his father and headed for the door.
Burt felt a tear rolling down his cheek, and as he watched his son leave, he couldn't tell if it was Kurt's or his own.
He decided that it didn't matter in the end.