A/N: FFN badly ruined the formatting of this story. If having some things look awkward will bother you, I suggest you read it at:

sparklybat[dot]livejournal[dot]com[slash]tag[slash]homefieldadvantage

(replace bracketed words with the symbol)

Ch 2: Offensive Moves

Kurt frowned deeply as he studied the decorations, leaning over to adjust an off-center piece of garland. It was lovely, but there was just *something* missing… Perhaps some paper mache hearts? No, too Valentines. A little tinsel? Too Christmas. Maybe some turkeys? Thanksgiving *was* just around the corner, and anything with large plumes of feathers was okay with Kurt Hummel. He reached out to straighten a banner, jerking back as the step ladder started to tip.

"For God's sake, be careful, Kurt!" Burt called out, looking alarmed. "Why don't you let me do that? I don't think those shoes are really the right choice for the job."

"Dad!" Kurt chided, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared down at his father, who was sitting uncomfortably in one of the little desks provided as a form of torture for students. "You shouldn't be doing anything *at all*! You should be in bed resting! Doctor's orders!" He grinned, crossing his purple, high heeled cowboy boots at the ankle as he lounged against the ladder. "And I think these fabulous shoes are just fabulous enough to do a fabulous job for a fabulous get together!"

Kurt turned back to the decorations. He'd see see how long it took his father to decipher *that.*

Apparently Burt wasn't even going to try because he just replied, "Oh, c'mon, Kurt, I'm diabetic, not an invalid! I think I can manage to hang up a couple of shiny banners."

Really. The man needed a *sitter.* "You need to be careful, Dad! I moved back here because you weren't taking good enough care of yourself!" His father made a grunting sound and Kurt glanced over his shoulder, sighing at the guilty look on his father's face.

"You didn't need to come back, Kurt. I take care of myself fine, and when I don't, well, Carol is there for me!" He palmed his face tiredly. "In fact, I wish you hadn't come back. You were living your dream."

Kurt rolled his eyes. Living his dream? Living in a cheap apartment that smelled like cat pee and brussel sprouts while constantly trying to balance a ton of schoolwork, a boyfriend who shaved his chest hair and left it in the tub, and a job waiting tables at a Denny's, yes. Living his dream? Not so much. "I was living in LA. That doesn't mean I was living my dream. I mean, you haven't seen me accepting any Emmies yet, have you?"

Burt chuckled as Kurt climbed down from the ladder, moving over to his father and wrapping an arm around him. "My *dream* is to be happy. And I can't be happy without you, Dad! If that meant coming back to Lima for awhile… well, it was totally worth it to see you healthy."

Burt hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Kurt. I know living in this city is so not what you ever wanted. I really appreciate what you've done for me. But it's been four *years* since I had my last heart attack and the doctor says I am *fine*—fine enough to work in my shop and sure as hell fine enough to hang decorations in the choir room."

Kurt smiled at him. "Well, it hasn't been all bad. Teaching theatre is actually quite fun." Well, it had become fun once he had accepted that he was always going to be called Mr. Porcelain and stopped being offended every time some oversized jock with a big ego and a small penis asked him if he was going to wear a dress to chaperone the prom.

"I just hope you'll get a chance to reconnect with some old friends at this reunion. Maybe think about moving on? I mean, that boy is gonna be here, right?" He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, stifling a laugh at the glare Kurt shot him. "Sorry, sorry. But don't think I don't know how much you miss him."

Kurt shrugged, embarrassed. "I don't even know if he's coming, Dad. I mean, yeah, he transferred from Dalton at the end of senior year, but he really spent most of his school years there. And I've barely even talked to him since I left LA." Because Blaine didn't respond to any of his messages.

Burt stood, clapping his son on the shoulder. "Oh, don't worry, kiddo. I have a feeling he'll show." He flashed a smile. "Who would want to miss out on you?"

"Yeah, well, he hasn't RSVP'd yet."

"You *are* sure people got their invites this year, right?"

"Oh, yes. I called everyone personally. I can't believe Sue rerouted all the Glee Club invitations to the addresses of Indian porn stars!" He shuddered. "Fifteen people naked in the auditorium, expecting to receive green cards in exchange for taking part in a pornographic reproduction of High School Musical. How does she come up with this crap?"

"What can I say, it's the stuff of my fantasies." Kurt jumped slightly, turning around to see Sue leaning against the doorframe, looking around the choir room with a smirk on her face. Fabulous. Just what he needed. "I see you've got everything all set up here, Porcelain. Too bad, considering that the reunion's been moved."

Kurt frowned, forehead wrinkling in confusion. "What are you talking about? It hasn't been moved."

Sue's eyes widened and her mouth formed a little 'o' of shock. "Really? Because that's not what I saw on Facebook!" She gave a wicked little laugh. "I hope you all enjoy your time together at the funeral home over on Blanton St." With those words she gave a little flick of the fingers good bye and strode off, whistling happily.

"What the hell?" Burt said with disbelief, shaking his head.

Kurt quickly pulled out his phone, opening up his Facebook ap and letting out a loud groan at what he saw.

Kurt Hudson-Hummel: Okay, everybody, time to RSVP for Glee! Comment here or on our FB page to let us know you're coming! The get together is on Saturday November 13th at 11:00 in the McKinley High choir room! Send me your email addresses if you need more detailed instructions! (Finn, you can just ride with me. I know you don't remember how to get to WMHS.)

See all 6 comments.

Rev. Mercedes Jones: I know you got my addy, boy! You just don't WRITE enough!

Quinn Fabray: I'll be there. Unless Rachel is coming.

Puck-a-Saurus: i'm at [FFN deleted this]

Senor Schuester: Thanks so much for organizing this, Kurt!

CURT HUMEL: The whole thing is moved. Go to 2817 Blanton St. See you gleeks there!

Arty Abrams: Isn't that a funeral home?

Kurt gritted his teeth and began to type. Sue was not gonna win this time.