More Than Four Sides

By: Mytay

Rating: T – for mature themes like those explored in Theatricality.

Summary: A post-Theatricality fic, wherein a few things get explained, Burt sees all sides of the situation and reaffirms his position as a flawed but, all in all, great dad.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, anything Glee related.

Note: I know there's a lot of debate/argument/hair-pulling over this episode – and I honestly do not want to get embroiled in any of it – but I wanted to explore my own thoughts and feelings about the whole situation. While you are welcome to disagree, please, let's keep things civil. Pretty please. With Kiss-clad boys on top.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Burt hadn't known how to broach the subject with Carole; in the end, he settled for doing what he did he best – telling the plain and simple truth. With lead in his belly, he'd waited as she took it all in, ready for her to either fly off the handle at him, or readily accept it and move out and on to greener pastures.

He wasn't expecting her to nod, agree that Finn had been out of line, but state in an equally frank manner that she wasn't ready to give up on this family yet. The room Burt had been using as an extension of his garage was outfitted with a bed and chest of drawers amidst the clutter of spare parts and tools – something they probably should've done in the first place. Finn would sleep there until the addition was completed. Burt watched Carole do all this shifting and moving, in awe of her and her determination.

In awe of how much she loved him and wanted this to work.

But she had also calmly pointed out, "Burt, Finn was wrong to use the words he did, but maybe you should talk to Kurt too. I just think there's more to the story, you know?"

Burt had bristled a bit at this, but he quickly realized she wasn't defending Finn's actions, just requesting a little understanding on Burt's part. Now that he was calmer and he knew that everything with Carole was going to be fine, he came to understand that maybe there was more to it. He figured he'd give Kurt a few days to come to Burt first before asking him himself.

Sure enough, a couple of days later, when it was just Burt and Deadliest Catch in the living room, Carole and Finn off for some much needed bonding time, Kurt came and sat down next him; no words were said, but Burt could feel the tension coming off him.

He switched off the TV without hesitating. "Tell me what's going on, Kurt."

Burt turned towards his son and took a second to observe the jeans and T-shirt. They were of designer label and probably worth an unreasonable amount of money, but considering that Kurt had been leaving the house the past few days in a silver get-up and white wig that hurt Burt's eyes to look at, he welcomed the return of the insanely expensive wardrobe. He'd take the crazy plaid pants and see-through raincoats over the corset that Kurt thought he didn't know about (but Burt did know and wished he didn't).

Right, so, the jeans and T-shirt were great, but also more dressed down than he was use to seeing Kurt; it immediately put him on edge, as did the shifty eyes and the fact that Kurt – his perfectly groomed son – was toying with a hangnail.

"Dad, you're not still mad at Finn, are you?"

Burt stared at the coffee table for a minute, trying to figure that out for himself. A part of him was angry, the part of him that wanted to keep Kurt locked up in his basement and beat anyone bloody that so much as looked at him the wrong way, let alone said or did anything that hurt him, that put that wounded, watery eyed look on his face. But the bigger part of him had already forgiven Finn. He was just a kid after all, and Burt had said it himself: he had been like Finn once upon a time. A lot worse, actually.

"No, Kurt, he's a good kid, and I saw the look on his face when I set him straight. He was damned sorry, I could tell." Burt flicked his gaze back to his son, who was looking relieved, but a little queasy and nervous as well. Carole had been right. "Wanna tell me what this is about?"

"It's . . ." Kurt ripped off the hangnail, staring down at his fingers before finally saying, "Dad, I'm sorry. This whole stupid thing was my fault. And before you say that it wasn't, I've been idiotic and selfish, and you deserve better than me, as a son."

Burt immediately reached over, grasping a thin shoulder in one hand, shaking Kurt, who looked about ready to cry, and he was done with seeing his son cry, just done.

"Kurt, you are the only son for me, you got that? You and everything good and bad that make you up, that's my kid, and I wouldn't trade him for the world. I've told you this 'bout a million times, but if you need to hear it again, I'll tell ya – you're mine. And I love you exactly the way you are."

"Even if I told you I set up you and Carole so I could be closer to Finn, who I have a crazy crush on that I can't seem to shake no matter what I do," Kurt rattled off, pushing himself away and eying his father with no small amount of fear.

Wow. That was some revelation. Burt leaned back, blinking, trying to take it in. He'd always figured there was something a little off about how much Kurt seemed to want him and Carole to work out but had never considered anything close to this. Wow.

"Kurt, you . . . kiddo, seriously?" He wasn't going to win any awards for that response but he was struggling to process it all. Aside from the shock factor, that was a rather scary, somewhat insane plan his son had cooked up, and it stung a bit too, that Kurt had used him like that.

"I know." Kurt buried his face in his hands. "I know, I'm an awful person. Dad, let me just say I really do want you to be happy, and if Carole had been some harpy or hopeless airhead, I would never have even considered doing it, I swear. I know that doesn't make it any less of a travesty, but I'm very glad you and Carole are so great together."

Burt nodded slowly. "But this thing with Finn –"

Kurt had been watching him between his fingers, but now his hands were twisting in his lap and he was staring down at them again.

"I've been trying to get him to see me in a new light, but it's really not working out so well, as has been demonstrated by this past week."

See, this was the boy discussion Burt had not been ready for a few months back. Truth be told, he still didn't feel ready for it, but it seemed he had to man up and get it done.

"Kurt, Finn is straight," he started with, and he saw Kurt flinch slightly, but it had to be said. A somewhat terrifying thought occurred to him. "I mean he is straight, right? You haven't –" A little dread started twisting deep in his stomach as he considered the fact that maybe that whole argument had been some sort of lover's spat, and holy crap, did that make him want to punch something – or someone – and Carole would definitely disown him over that.

"No, dad, he's . . . straight," Kurt mumbled. "Unbearably so, in fact."

Thank God. He could handle the rest of this conversation. "Then, Kurt, I think you already know that Finn can't change that, anymore than you can change who you are. And it's completely wrong of you to try and manipulate him into something that just isn't him, son."

Kurt sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm starting to get that. I'm . . . I can't help the way I feel though, dad. I've tried, I promise, to let this go, but –"

Burt tried to slide closer but Kurt recoiled, so he stayed right where he was, not sure how to bridge the distance. Kurt kept taking in these weak, trembling breaths, and Burt watched him do it, feeling completely helpless. He struggled to find the next point, the next thing to focus on for this talk, and he found his mind going right to yet another awkward question.

"Kurt, before that fight in the basement – the whole week actually – have you been . . . " He fidgeted uncomfortably and suddenly he felt stupid, because even without this whole crush thing, why in the hell did he think that having his gay teenage son room with another boy would be a good idea? Probably because Kurt had said he would be fine with it, but clearly Burt needed to remember that his son was sixteen. This meant his judgment was impaired not just by naiveté, but also by emotions and hormones that were newly developing and sometimes dramatically fluctuating. Burt had totally messed up his parenting this time around. "Have you been trying to, you know, flirt, or something . . . with Finn?"

When Kurt didn't immediately respond, just kept wringing his hands as he thought of what to say, Burt knew right then and there that Finn hadn't meant most of what he'd said that night. The kid had been adjusting to his new home, and then having to deal with the discomfort of rooming with another boy who was attracted to him and flirting with him. Both Burt and Carole had really dropped the ball on this one.

"I wasn't throwing myself at him, but . . . I did look at him sometimes, probably more often than I realized. And the whole redecorating thing was a fairly weak attempt at getting him to feel more comfortable. Most of the time it was frustrating because he clearly was so out of place, and he can be so incredibly dense, but . . . it was me. All along, it was me stressing him out, and making him feel that way and, dad, he really is a good guy. You should've seen what he did for me yesterday." His eyes brightened then, though only for a second before he shrunk back again. "I've been such a freak, and I think you should ground me for it. Or something. You can take away my baby or confiscate my credit card."

Burt stared at him incredulously, a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. "You're telling me to take away your credit card? The same credit card that, when I first gave it to you, you slept with under your pillow for like, a month?"

Finally, Burt got an expression out of him that wasn't pained – namely an eye roll and sarcastic scoff. Then silence.

He reached over, grabbed a hand and held it tightly. His son stared at the gesture for a moment before lifting his eyes to his.

"Listen, kiddo, everyone in this situation messed up somehow. And I think that Carole and I need to take more of the blame, 'cause we're suppose to be the adults, and we just assumed that because Finn was coming around so often to watch games with me, and because he and I were bonding, that he'd take the move well. And Carole is totally head over heels for you, so that bit goes without saying."

Kurt flushed a little, and Burt squeezed his hand. "But we should have talked with Finn about it first, and we should have asked him if he'd feel comfortable rooming with you. And maybe then we would've held off on the move until we built the addition and got him squared away. Point being, everyone has something to share in this."

Kurt nodded once, squeezing his father's fingers back. Burt inhaled deeply, trying to find the best way to phrase this next part.

"But Kurt, I really need you to understand something, okay? What you did, the setting me up to get close to Finn? That was all kinds of crazy. And kinda hurtful too." Kurt tried to pull his hand back, but Burt just kept a firm enough grip to let him know that wasn't happening. "It was selfish and manipulative and a bit . . . " He floundered for a kinder word than creepy. "It was a bit out there. And I really don't want to see this kind of behaviour from you again. Okay? You're better than that."

Kurt nodded, blinking back tears, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Burt figured that that message got through – now for the one he really wasn't sure he was capable of delivering but here it went. "This thing you have for Finn, Kurt, it ain't right – and not because he's a dude," he hurried on to add, "but because he's not gay, and you can't make him gay. It just isn't healthy, kiddo, to focus so hard on something that isn't going to happen."

The tears were being held back by a whole lot more fierce blinking, but Kurt was nodding along. Burt exhaled before continuing, "I think maybe you need to come clean to Finn, just explain the whole situation, and apologize for all that. Do it on your own – whenever you feel ready, and try and . . . move on."

Kurt nodded again, staring at their joined hands before whispering, "I, I already have, started to move on, I think. Having Finn living here took away a lot of the magic, especially after . . ." He swallowed. "You know, he snores and leaves dirty socks all over the floor. That was a pretty big turn off – and he picks at his earwax nearly constantly, and wipes it off on his shirts and pants, and occasionally the furniture, something which is both disgusting and disturbing – and part of the reason why I replaced so many of my original furnishings." He made a face that coaxed an involuntary snort out of Burt, and quite suddenly they were both smiling.

Kurt scooted closer on the couch. "I can't help what I feel, dad. I still like Finn, a lot. But I think I can be friends with him once I get over it completely. He's already done his bit of apologizing for that whole . . . other thing. And, dad, I know you meant what you said in the basement, but maybe you should tell him –"

Burt cut him off. "I'll tell Finn that I'm not pissed at him and that I get where he was coming from, but everything else I said is the God's honest truth, and I ain't taking any of that back – it had to be said. And I still mean it. Finn's a good guy, but Kurt, I swear, if he ever says anything like that to you again –"

"Dad!" His son's eyes widened hugely. "Dad, calm down."

Burt realized he was squeezing the life out of his kid's hand, and let go, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "Sorry. It's just that I know you get that word thrown at you at school by jackasses that I can't protect you from. I know that you take so much from them and I just . . . I can protect you here. It's about the only place I can make safe for you, and I will not tolerate any of that kind of crap under my roof, Kurt. I can't."

Kurt was watching him, a bit awestruck. "Yeah, I get it. And thank you."

Burt shook his head. "No, don't thank me for this, I am your father, this is my job. It's what any man would do for his kid."

His son smiled widely. "Not any man, dad. You're really something special."

Burt indulged for a minute, basking in the plain adoration coming from his son before shaking it all off like a dog shakes off water. "Right, so, if this is settled now" – he glanced at Kurt, who nodded – "then I'm gonna keep on watching my show, and you should go and . . . start moisturizing."

He flicked the TV back on, settling in for a relaxing night now that it was all out in the open. A part of him was reeling from the night's revelations – a little bruised from his son's confession, a little worried about having the object of his boy's affections living under the same roof – but for now, he could watch his show and worry about the rest tomorrow.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"I, uh, I'll stay here, if you don't mind. Unless, of course, if you would prefer to be alone –"

"Nah." Burt shot him a grin. "If you think you can actually enjoy yourself, get comfortable. There's another two hours to go on this marathon."

Kurt just flashed him a bright smile, and sat closer to him on the couch, watching the screen intently, like he did when one of his fashion shows was on. Burt grinned to himself and pressed his shoulder to Kurt's as he put his feet up and finally, truly, relaxed.

It took half an hour (a half hour longer than Burt expected), for Kurt to nod off. His head fell onto his shoulder and he practically burrowed into Burt's side, seeking warmth. Without even thinking about it, he threw his arm around his son's slim shoulders, tugging him closer, and kept right on watching his show, the smile on his face never falling.

He didn't remember falling asleep, and he didn't remember pulling up a blanket, but when he was next aware of anything, it was of that: of how warm and comfortable he was, and the huge blanket covering both him and Kurt. The TV was off, and everything was dark and quiet.

Carole and Finn must've come home, and when he glanced at the bright digital clock resting on a side table nearby, he was surprised to see it was past midnight. He knew he should get to bed – sleeping on this couch usually led to painful neck and muscle aches the next morning. He started moving slowly, swallowing down a powerful yawn.

Kurt made a soft sound in his sleep, and an arm came up to wrap around Burt's chest.

He stared down at his boy, hair mussed in sleep, looking all of ten years old and figured why not stay? Tomorrow (today) would be a Saturday, and Kurt would be sleeping in anyway, and yes, the shop normally opened at nine, but he owned the place, didn't he? He could open whenever he damn well wanted.

He slid and shifted into a more comfortable position, with as little jostling to Kurt as possible, and almost immediately felt sleep start tugging on the edges of his consciousness again. Just as his eyes started to droop, Kurt's fluttered open, briefly. He glanced at his father for less than a second before closing his eyes, mumbling, "Love you, dad."

Burt was too far gone to say anything, but he held his son closer and drifted off, warm, safe and peaceful.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note: Yet again, I apologize for any mistakes, as this is unbeta'd. It took me a few days to write, so I hope I caught most of the mistakes myself.

I must thank the reviewers of my other one-shot – you were a large part of what motivated me to post this. I write mostly for myself, but you guys gave me enough confidence to share it with others, and I am very grateful. I hope you enjoyed this one too, if any of you came on back to read!

For those who are curious, the title comes from that line Kurt says in Laryngitis (Ep. 18), which was something to the effect that he's not a box, and there are more than four sides to him (and a box has six sides, but whatever, not the point :D). Well, I felt that there were more than four sides to this whole episode – there are a multitude of viewpoints and opinions, and none of them are wrong; the only thing that's wrong is thinking that your opinion is the only valid one out there.

Thanks again for reading, and reviews and critiques are always welcome.