Author's Note: This story is a response to this Glee Angst Meme prompt: .com/glee_angst_?thread=2445904#t2445904
It contains mentions of physical, verbal, and sexual abuse, and a really bad boyfriend. Major Kurt whumpage ahead.
Dirty Laundry
The clock reads 12:18 AM. Burt doesn't know why he knows that. Burt doesn't know why he's awake. He hadn't been awake, but now he's awake, and it's only midnight.
Tick-tick-tick - a barely perceiveable knocking on the door explains why he's awake.
Who would be visiting at this hour? And, why would they be knocking on his bedroom door?
Another set of knocks clears the fog from his brain. His voice is sleep-soaked and gruff, "Yeah, come in."
The door opens just enough for Kurt to slip in, then shuts. "Dad?" Kurt's voice is soft in the darkness, and Burt's not sure why he bothers, as he's already woken up the only other occupant of the house.
"Yeah, it's me. What do you need, Kurt?" Burt's giving Kurt the benefit of the doubt and not lecturing him about the hour. He's sure Kurt learned the lesson about trying to use his father's sleepiness to coerce him into agreeing to outlandish purchases.
"I was just...wondering...could I sleep here tonight? With you? It's just, I spilled something on my sheets, and I don't want to wait the two hours for the laundry to finish before I can finally sleep, and the couch really isn't that comfortable, and I promise to be quiet-"
"Kurt," Burt halts his son's nervous rambling, "you can sleep here tonight."
Kurt sighs, "Thanks, Dad."
"Let me just get you a pillow."
"No, wait-" Kurt begins to protest.
Burt flips on the bedside light - and gasps.
Kurt raises his hand to his face, but he's not quick enough, and Burt has already seen the black eye.
"Jesus, Kurt," Burt goes to grab his arm and bring his son closer for a better look, but stops short upon seeing Kurt's wrists.
Hand-shaped bruises.
"Kurt, what happened?"
Kurt's face crumbles. "I'm sorry, Dad! I'm so sorry!" comes out in sobs.
"Hey, hey. It's okay. Come here." Burt sits on the edge of his bed and pats the mattress. He hopes having Kurt come to him will be less imposing than him going to Kurt.
Kurt sits a foot from his dad, pulls his knees to his chest, and cries into them.
Tears spring to Burt's eyes. He knows he has to wait out the sobs, but seeing his kid like this is killing him, and all he wants is to tear whoever caused this apart.
In the meantime, he satisfies his parental instincts by rubbing gentle circles into Kurt's back.
It's a while before the sobs die down, and they don't seem to leave Kurt any less miserable, just more warn-down.
"You want to tell me what's going on now?"
A sniff and a shaky sigh are his only responses.
Burt tries a new tactic: "Who did this?"
It takes a moment for Kurt's mouth to stop trembling enough to get out the words, "S-Sam hi-hit me...hits me."
"Sam, your boyfriend Sam?" Sam whom he met, whom he'd cooked dinner for, whom he'd let in his home, whom he'd trusted with his son?
Kurt nods, and another sob has Burt worried he's already lost him again. "Yeah," Kurt recovers, "my b-boyfriend."