gleebles A/N; Just a sweet father/son story. We talked about the concept of a 'living will' in my social work class the other day and it sort of resonated in me. I thought to myself, I wonder if Burt ever thought to do that...? Thus, The Will.

Enjoy!

The Will.

It wasn't that Burt didn't want to be having this conversation with his son, but…well…actually, that was exactly it. He didn't want to talk about it period, but his discomfort didn't matter. It was for his son. And he could do this for his son. He would do this.

"You've done worse," he thought bitterly to himself. He visibly shivered at the memory of the successful, yet painful sex talk in the kitchen. That seemed like ages ago.

Burt steeled himself, pondering Kurt's reaction to all of this, and exited his truck. He slammed the door shut and headed into the house uneasily.

"Hi Dad," Kurt greeted immediately as Burt hung his car keys on the key hook near the microwave.

Kurt was standing at the counter and was slowly and carefully scraping vanilla batter into paper cupcake liners. Burt furrowed his eyebrows.

"What's going on?" he grumbled, approaching the bowl.

"Cupcakes," Kurt replied, turning the spatula around in the bowl to gather the last remnants of batter. "For Carole's birthday."

"That was awfully nice of you," Burt commented, sticking his index in one of the unbaked cupcakes and lifting the dripping, gooey, batter-coated finger to his mouth.

"Dad!" Kurt scolded as his dad tasted the mixture. "Are you serious?"

"What?" his father questioned, leaning back to avoid Kurt's oven-mitted swat. "Someone had to test it," he reasoned.

"Dad, I'm being serious here," Kurt complained, visibly and sincerely upset. "Please listen to your doctor. You need to eat heart healthy foods."

"One little teaspoon of cupcake batter isn't going to kill me, Kurt," Burt squeezed his shoulder quickly and took a seat at the table.

Kurt looked troubled at that statement, but continued nonetheless, sticking the cupcake pan in the oven.

"Kurt," his dad spoke and paused, waiting for his son to finish setting the timer so he could give Burt his full attention, "why don't you take a seat?"

Kurt's face paled.

"Oh God," he spoke weakly. "What it is?"

"Nothing," Burt replied. "I just want to talk to you about something."

Kurt paused, his hand on the counter, finger scratching at the spatula nervously.

"Come on, Kurt. We haven't spoken much about my hospital visit and I've been doing some thinking."

"That's because that happened months ago," Kurt explained as if it were obvious. "Are you sick again?"

"No, Kurt, come on," his father complained. "Take a seat."

"I don't like where this is going," Kurt exhaled heavily, but otherwise took off his oven mitt and approached the table.

Burt readied himself. As Kurt took a seat, his father took off his hat and rubbed the top of his head, which immediately set Kurt on edge. He didn't like that gesture; it was something his dad did when something was troubling him.

"It's no big deal," Burt said, more to himself than to Kurt, "but I figured we should get it out of the way."

Burt blinked heavily and had to prepare himself again. He could do this.

"Dad?" Kurt asked gently. His dad's hesitation was frightening him.

"Look," Burt leaned forward and placed his elbows on the counter, rubbing his grease-stained hands together, "I just wanted to know…if you wanted anything. Anything…material…if something was to ever happen...but ended...poorly..."

Kurt still looked concerned and he shook his head in puzzlement.

"What do you…I don't know—"

"I was just thinking about it recently," Burt continued over him and scratched his eyebrow distractedly. "If…anything were to happen to me, I'd have my stuff. My garage and this house," Burt clarified. Kurt stared back at him. "Finn would get the easy chair, because I know that means a lot to him. And the garage—if he wants it. Carole would—"

"Your talking about your possessions?" Kurt nearly yelled. His face had gone from confused, to horrified, to hurt, then finally decided on disgust. "God, Dad!"

"Let me finish—" Burt spoke calmly, but Kurt wasn't having it.

"No!" he pushed himself away from the table, his face pale. "Dad, I am not having this conversation!"

"Let me finish, Kurt," he repeated, raising his voice. "This is important."

Kurt looked a little green in the face and he stared at his dad for some time.

"Sit down, son," Burt spoke in the same authoritative tone.

Kurt dropped his anger and rolled his eyes, scoffing, and lowered himself back into his chair.

"This is so stupid," he muttered, combating his dismay with exasperation.

"Now, Carole would get the house and assets," Burt continued and Kurt shook his head slightly, "but I've been thinking about it and I can't for the life of me figure out what I would leave you. I mean, what would you want?"

Kurt blinked twice at his dad and then began to shake his head.

"I— nothing—"

"Come on, Kurt," Burt shuddered. "Don't make me pry it out of you. Just…anything that you would want of mine. I know my wardrobe is out of the question and making you take the furniture would be flat out cruel…"

Kurt cracked a small smile at that and Burt laughed a bit.

"Come on, isn't this any teenager's dream? Anything you want for free? It's like a credit card that's got no limit!" he sang and Kurt stared at him quite seriously.

"No. Please, not Nickelback, Dad," he shook his head, but cracked a small smile.

"Come on, kid," Burt gave a grin "Name it."

Kurt's smile fell and he crossed his arms and lowered his chin. His eyes landed in his lap and he became quiet.

Burt watched his son, almost hearing the gears in his mind turn. Maybe he was having just a hard of a time figuring this out as Burt had.

Then, Kurt's eyes fell onto his father's hands, which were still unconsciously rubbing together.

"Well," Kurt spoke his voice soft and steady, "if you didn't mind…I would want your wedding ring."

"My ring?" he thought, surprise coloring his tone. He touched his finger to the simple gold band. It wasn't really Kurt's taste, so he couldn't imagine why he would want that of all things. "Why's that?"

A smile flitted across Kurt's face and he shrugged.

"As much as this scenario kills me to think about," said Kurt, "if you were to…you know…I would want something that reminds me of you. And you've always been…an in-incredible father."

Burt felt his throat close up and his face flame up uncomfortably. He swallowed, feeling his heart beat hard in his chest.

Kurt mirrored his emotions.

"You've always been supportive of Finn and I," Kurt continued and tears welled up in his eyes. "I would want something that symbolized who you are, rather than what you had. And you're a family man," Kurt shrugged and gave a watery laugh. He quickly wiped a tear that slipped from his eye. "A great husband and an exceptional father."

There was a pause in which Kurt fought the onslaught of tears and Burt tried to regain composure. Burt swallowed again and looked down, rubbing his eyes roughly.

"Well," Burt continued, clearing his throat, "if that's what you want, you've got it."

"Well, actually," Kurt spoke and looked cautious. "I…there's something..."

Burt furrowed his eyebrows.

"What is it, kid?"

Kurt adjusted his sweater to give his hands something to do and looked down at the table.

"While we're on the subject...," he cleared his throat. "Although I know what I said sounded like I wanted this ring," Kurt nodded to Burt's hand, "I was wondering...if you might leave me your old one instead?"

Burt was shocked. His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words.

"You know, my real mom and yours wedding ring?"

"Yeah, I've got it," Burt eventually fumbled. "You want that instead?"

Kurt avoided his eyes still and shrugged slightly.

"Well...unless you wouldn't want that," he mumbled, "I think that it'd be nice...having your old ring and—well, having you and Mom be a part of my…if I ever get married…"

Burt just watched his boy stutter and fumble, thinking to himself that he had never seen him more childlike. He seemed almost ashamed that he had even thought of marriage before and even more chagrined to ask for, essentially, his fathers approval to marry a man. He wanted his wedding ring...the ring that symbolized everything that made him Burt: trust, faithfulness, protection, and fierce, unconditional love. Kurt would live the rest of his life possessing that ring and could, with hope, become half the man his father was. And maybe one day, he could have that ring placed on his own finger, symbolizing the same qualities in his own marriage.

Kurt finally peeked up under his eyelashes at his father and suddenly lifted his head completely.

His father had tears in his eyes.

"Dad…" Kurt spoke in a mixture of shock and regret. "D-Don't worry about it. If the idea of it weirds you out—"

"Kurt," Burt spoke. He leaned forward and gripped his son's hand tightly. "Nothing would make me happier."

Kurt's mouth dropped. He stared at his father.

"Okay?" asked Burt fiercely.

Kurt nodded.

"Okay."

Then, the buzzer went off causing Kurt to flinch. The whole kitchen smelled of a bakery.

Burt cleared his throat as they both leaned back and began to stand. Kurt went over to the oven, slipping on his oven mitts as Burt walked around the table.

"What's that smell?" came a voice from the stairs and the two men glanced over to Finn.

"Cupcakes," Kurt replied shortly and sternly. "And don't even think about it. They're for your mom's birthday."

"Oh," Finn said shortly. Perhaps he had forgotten. Or maybe he was wondering if he should've helped Kurt. "That was sweet of you, dude."

"Thanks. Now go away."

Burt threw an amused expression at Finn who furrowed his eyebrows.

"What's with the third degree? I haven't even done anything."

"Yet," he spoke curtly. "But you and my father are usually on very similar brainwaves and he's already ruined one cupcake."

Finn looked to Burt and Burt shrugged.

"Oops."

"Yeah, 'oops'," Kurt mumbled and Burt smiled at him.

He watched as Finn and Kurt squabbled over the dessert and felt something warm touch his heart.

He then walked over to Kurt, placed a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.

"I love you, kiddo."

Kurt blinked and turned his head slightly.

"I love you too, Dad."

Burt squeezed his shoulder once more before heading towards the door. He patted Finn on the back once as he went and, reaching the doorway, had to rub his eyes again.

Not nearly as painful as the sex talk, he decided and exhaled heavily.

gleebles A/N; Thank you for reading! I love their father/son scenes! :) Please review!