Author's Note: This is my first foray back into writing in several years and I'm rusty so please be kind. The story is just meant to be a fluffy, romantic souffle of as yet undetermined length, featuring my favorite Glee pairing. The 1930s classic screwball comedy "It Happened One Night" was the inspiration for this story, and it is set in a place and time that is not the U.S. in the 1930s, but similar to that era technologically (no cell phones, no computers, no TVs, no interstate highways). However, in my world, homosexuality is socially acceptable and gay marriage is legal. And the characters use modern language. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, they'd have sung more show tunes and Kurtbastian would definitely have happened.

Rating: T for occasional foul language and sexual innuendo.

Chapter 1: But I Love Him

Adam emerged from the stateroom suite wearing soup. Of course, the ship's steward was not wearing only soup, he had his somber black suit on as well. The soup was more an unwelcome accessory.

"He's in a rare mood today," Adam cautioned to Finn, who just stood with wide eyes taking in Adam's new look. "Sir, normally it's not my place to say, but since this is the third suit he's ruined in as many days and I have to pay my own dry cleaning bills, I feel I must point out that the situation is getting out of control. You might want to alert Mr. Hummel. Perhaps he could do something?"

"N-no," Finn said slowly, shaking his head with a determination he did not actually feel. "I ought to be able to handle my own step-brother. How long has it been since he last ate?"

"That would be yesterday morning, sir, when he drank the organic orange juice and had a bit of whole wheat toast. I was only the recipient of the egg white omelet and heart-healthy turkey bacon on that occasion."

"I see. Thanks, Adam. And sorry about your suits, man. I'll speak to Burt about the dry cleaning, you shouldn't have to pay for that stuff."

"Thank you, Mr. Finn. That would be most kind," the steward replied stiffly. He bowed with a dancer's grace despite the soup still trickling down his shirt and made his way down the narrow stairs from the yacht's stateroom level to the galley below.

"Kurt?" Finn called, tapping carefully on the bedroom door, "Can I come in, bro? You wanna talk about it?"

"Go away, Finn!"

Shit, thought Finn, Kurt sounded angry, and angry Kurt was super scary. Still, Finn was determined to be a good brother, whether Kurt wanted one or not. "Nuh-uh. You gotta let me." Finn tried to turn the door handle but found it locked.

"Finnigan Hudson, you set foot in this room and I swear to God I will tell Dad and Carole about those risqué Boovian postcards you have hidden under your mattress."

Finn blanched and instantly let go of the door handle. Just then he heard a heavy, weary tread on the stairs.

"Kurt, unlock this door."

"Not until you say yes."

"That's not gonna happen, kiddo," Burt answered firmly. "I'm trying to protect you from making the biggest mistake of your life."

"But I love him!" Burt and Finn could hear the beginning of quiet sobs coming through the door.

"I'll take it from here, Finn," Burt said quietly to his step-son, gently pushing him towards the bannister and taking his place in front of the bedroom door. "You go to the galley and have your second breakfast."

Finn brightened at the mention of food. "Hey, after that could I take the helm for a while?"

"Um, that didn't go so well last time. We're lucky the trawler owner didn't sue. But it wasn't your fault," Burt hastened to add off his step-son's downcast face. "Saying 'starboard' and 'port' instead of 'right' and 'left' can be very confusing." Thus reassured, Finn retreated, relieved and hungry.

"Listen, Kurt," Burt tried again, making a real effort to keep calm as Kurt's crying got louder. "Just open the door and we'll discuss it. C'mon, don't make your old man beg."

Burt heard the sound of sniffles being gotten under control and after a pause the lock disengaged. The door opened and Burt beheld his son – his son whose perfect porcelain skin was now blotchy and red, whose blue-green eyes were puffy and underlined with dark, tired circles. Whose perfect posture was nevertheless intact, chin up and defiant.

Burt moved to hug him but Kurt turned away sharply. "I love him and I'm going to be with him and you can't stop me," Kurt insisted coldly.

"Kurt, he's only after your money. I know his type, he's a gold-digger. Plus I don't like the way he's trying to use you as his ticket to rubbing elbows with the Diamond City theater elites. I know he's your first serious boyfriend, but –"

"No buts, Dad! You're wrong about him. Sure, he's got expensive tastes and he's ambitious. But if I want to buy him nice things and help his career, that's my business. I'm marrying Blaine Anderson and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh yes there is," Burt snapped. "We can stay here anchored off Cliff City 3,000 miles from Diamond City 'til they repeal the Dry Laws for all I care. You're not marrying that sponge." With that, Burt turned and left, slamming the door shut on Kurt's most cherished hopes and dreams.

Or so it seemed.

But one thing Burt of all people should have known: never underestimate the determination of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.

The next morning, one of the lifeboats was gone, along with a small suitcase of clothes and about $200.

When Adam timidly informed Burt, the older Hummel just sighed deeply and picked up the phone. "Hello Operator. Get me a ship-to-shore line. The Will Schuster Detective Agency."