Kurt gazed out of the window in his Aunt and Uncle's front door, unable to keep from thinking of the final time he saw his parents, walking down those porch steps in the rain.

His dad had been working normally, when suddenly; he had received an urgent call to travel to some far-off place.

"Daddy, where are you going?" Kurt asked as watched his mother and father hurriedly pack their suitcases, his blue-grey eyes wide and innocent.

"We have to go away for a while for work, okay, sweetie?" Kurt's mother had replied. "You're going to stay with your Aunt and Uncle in New York for a few months while we're gone!"

Kurt's parents had been very impressed with how well Kurt was handling the situation so far, but he had apparently been bottling up his emotions for when the time came to say goodbye to his parents.

"Okay, buddy, we'll see you in a couple of months, alright?" His father had said, crouching down and putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders.

When he saw Kurt's eyes watering profusely, he leaned a bit closer to his son.

"Just remember all those stories I told you about Uncle Burt, if he tries to be mean, just unleash one of those on him," He had laughed, pulling Kurt in for a hug.

Kurt's mother had crouched down to give Kurt a hug and numerous kisses, tearfully trying to give Kurt's aunt the specifics of taking care of him.

Kurt's father had stood beside the door, his jaw set.

"Come on, Helena, we can't miss our flight," He had sighed, reaching out a hand.

"Just coming, Dennis," She said. "It's just a couple of months, sweetie," She had muttered to Kurt, with a final kiss to his forehead.

Kurt had walked over to the front door, looking past his own tearful reflection to where his parents were getting into their car, without so much as a glance back at the house.

Consequently, that 'few months' had turned into 'the rest of Kurt's life so far'. Kurt's parents had died on the trip, meaning that he had lived in New York with his Uncle Burt and Aunt Carole as his guardians.

School was…alright. Kurt had come to be accepted, to say the least, in the unforgiving high school. He had had a brief stint as a football player, which had boosted his popularity, and a cheerleader, which had just made everyone afraid of him, but now he was just Kurt.

He didn't have any close friends to speak of, but he was relied upon as the unofficial photographer for most of the school clubs and committees, so he was widely known throughout the school.

Even so, being openly gay, Kurt couldn't expect to be completely accepted and loved across the school.

The jocks often made not-so-subtle digs at Kurt, usually just throwing basketballs at him, but sometimes going so far as throwing him in the dumpster.

Kurt usually just dealt with it. It wasn't really so bad; as long as he got out of the dumpster quickly, he could avoid smelling of banana peel and rotting school lunches for the rest of the day.

What Kurt didn't stand for, however, was other people being ridiculed. Which is why he decided to interfere when he saw Noah Puckerman dangling a freshman by his feet, forcing his face into the bland-looking school lunch.

"Eat your vegetables, loser!" Noah – or Puck, as he preferred to be known – yelled as he practically threw the boy towards the table.

"Noah, leave him alone," Kurt called over the chant of 'eat it, eat it' the assembled students had started.

"Firstly, it's Puck, secondly, take a picture, dude," Puck said, gesturing towards Kurt's camera as he swung the freshman rapidly from left to right.

"That's disgusting," Kurt said, shaking his head. "Put him down."

Puck looked at Kurt indignantly for a moment, before literally throwing the freshman to the floor.

Kurt was about to walk away, but Puck's fist was suddenly colliding with his cheekbone, and then his stomach. He fell to the floor, winded, as the students surrounding them cheered, obviously desperate to see a fight.

Kurt stood up, clutching his stomach.

"Don't get up, Hummel," Puck threatened, kicking Kurt hard in the crotch. Kurt fell to the floor again, groaning in agony.

Nodding at Kurt's curled-up form on the floor, Puck walked away, and the crowd's dispersal followed.

As Kurt tried to will the pain away, he noticed that one person hadn't left. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was Blaine Anderson.
Blaine Anderson who was famous in the school for being devastatingly handsome, ridiculously clever and…gay.

Blaine was one of those people that everyone liked, no matter which clique they belonged to, or where they lived, or what subjects they studied.

Before Kurt could register it, though, Blaine was gone.

Kurt stepped into his next class just in the nick of time. He staggered to his seat, before folding his arms on the desk and leaning his chin on them. He closed his eyes and was about to doze off, when something caught his attention.

A voice as smooth as honey, at close proximity.

"That was really brave, what you did back there," Came the unmistakable voice of Blaine Anderson.

Kurt just stared at him with wide eyes.

"What's your name?" Blaine asked, his honey-coloured eyes seeming to make Kurt warmer than he had been before. Everything about Blaine just seemed as sweet as honey.

"You…don't know my name?" Kurt asked. He felt himself sway slightly in his chair.

"Of course I know your name, I just want to see if you remember it," Blaine said matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow. "In case you have a concussion."

"Oh…well, it's Kurt," Kurt said, smiling stupidly at Blaine. Blaine was still looking at him expectantly with his glowing puppy-dog eyes. "Kurt Hummel."

Later that evening, Burt appeared in the kitchen with a damp-bottomed box in his hands. He placed it on the table, much to Carole's dismay.

"Get that thing off of my kitchen table, Burt Hummel," She said sternly, brandishing her spaghetti scoop at him.

"It's stuff from your old house, the basement is flooded and I didn't want them to get ruined!" Burt had said, picking the box up nonetheless and putting it on the floor. "Kurt, come and give me a hand with this flood."

Kurt had followed his Uncle down to the basement, where they had discussed the problem.

"Well, there's too much water for it to be the washing machine, so it's probably the central heating," Kurt had said, folding his arms.

Burt had simply nodded. "Okay, buddy, just save anything else that you want to," Burt had said, squeezing Kurt's shoulder and walking back up the stairs, wiping his wet feet on the carpet.

Kurt had knelt down beside the various boxes that were stowed in the basement, but an familiar-looking, aged, leather briefcase caught his eye. He picked it up to see that the initials 'DH' were engraved into the leather. He carried it back upstairs to the kitchen, where he put it on the table.

Kurt cleared his throat.

Upon seeing him, Burt looked somewhat uncomfortable and Carole looked tearful all of a sudden.

"That was your dad's," Burt sighed.

Kurt could only nod. He opened the bag and got out a newspaper clipping. It was a torn photo of his father and another man.

"Who's that?" Kurt asked, holding up the photo.

"I…don't know, one of your dad's old workmates," Burt said, leaning against the table.

"Kurt, get that thing off the table, it's probably filthy," Carole said, wiping her eyes.

Kurt picked up the briefcase and carried it upstairs to his bedroom. He locked the door.

When he opened the bag, the first thing he found was a pair of his father's glasses. He slid them on, and began inspecting the bag for any hidden sections. He found one when he ran his finger along the inside lining, where there was a concealed zip.

He slid it open to reveal a file marked with 'Private'.

Despite this, Kurt opened the file to reveal biological profiles and a lot of information about the 'Decay Rate Algorithm'.

Kurt stood up and googled the term, but found nothing that was of any use to him.

When there was a knock on the door, Kurt hastily closed the internet window that was opened on his computer, and shoved the private file back into the briefcase.

"Come in!" He called.

Burt stepped into the room. "Jesus, you look just like him," He had said, grabbing the doorframe for support.

"Yeah…" Kurt had chuckled, pushing the glasses further up his nose.

"Paul Underbridge." Burt said simply. When Kurt just looked at him for a moment, Burt explained further. "That's the man in the photo with your dad."

Kurt nodded in understanding.

"They worked together on some secretive project, they wouldn't tell me anything," Burt had laughed, rolling his eyes.

Kurt just smiled.

"You know he would be so proud of you if he were still here?" Burt asked, stepping over and squeezing Kurt's shoulder.

"I know," Kurt said, grinning and running a hand through his hair.

"I'm proud of you," Burt said, mussing Kurt's hair. After a moment of silence, Burt gestured towards Kurt's laptop screen, where his desktop was displayed. "He looks nice!" He chuckled.

Kurt had changed his desktop to a photo of Blaine, zoomed in from the photo he had on his computer of the Debating Team.

"Are you two going out?" Burt asked, an eyebrow raised.

"No, Uncle Burt, I totally would tell you," Kurt laughed, trying to stop the blush that spread across his cheeks.

"Good," Burt sighed, leaning against Kurt's chair. "Carole will probably castrate the both of us if we don't go down to dinner now."

"Well we can't have that, I haven't dated anyone yet!" Kurt said cheekily. Burt gently hit Kurt's shoulder, chuckling at his nephew.

A/N

Whee, Spiderman!

Saw The Amazing Spiderman the other day, and loved it! This was partly inspired by some fantastic edits on Tumblr of Chris Colfer as Spiderman, and partly by a not-so-mild obsession with Klaine.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and I will endeavour to continue it as soon as possible!

(Also, I'm sorry for not updating the Hummel Twins for so long, but I have a terrible case of writer's block with that story, I just can't seem to find the inspiration to continue it! I will try my best to have it up before long, though.)