Summer 2021

The joint graduation party in the small square of backyard behind the brownstone was small and intimate. Kurt and Blaine had invited family and friends who could make it to Washington, D.C. for the weekend. They'd already spent a sleepless night at a Georgetown bar with their law school friends and graciously agreed to let Burt and Carole host something for the family.

To his surprise, the Andersons had wanted to fly out to spend a few days with Blaine. Cooper had come from California too, although he'd done that a couple times over the years when he had the money to manage it, so that wasn't such a shock. Santana and Rachel had taken the train down from New York, Santana said, for the chance to welcome Kurt and Blaine into "the soulless ranks of Shysters" with a promise to "incorporate you into the hive mind" before she left.

Burt stood over the grill turning hamburgers and hotdogs and watching the kids – who were really adults, but who Burt would always think of as kids – through the charcoal cooking smoke. They had truly come into their own over the years and grown into great men who would leave their mark on the world, Burt was sure of it.

"I think you're burning them," Carole said.

Burt swore under his breath and hastily removed the hotdogs from the grill. He let the conversation and peals of laughter go on without his observations for the next several minutes while he finished cooking and Carole brought the rest of the dishes to the long table outside.

"Time to eat!" he announced.

They formed eager lines, as if Burt had kept them waiting for days instead of an hour, and settled back into their places to tuck into the buffet of cookout foods prepared earlier in the day. Burt came over last of all and settled into the lawn chair between Carole and Finn. He pretended not to notice Kurt's disgruntled look at the hamburger topped with cheese and mayonnaise. It wasn't every day his son graduated law school. Burt was celebrating.

"So I think the question now is … what comes next?"

Blaine's dad was like that, always looking to the next possible achievement. Burt would have been happy for the kids to take the summer off and just relax after all the hard work they'd put into getting their degrees, but law wasn't a profession that allowed for that.

"Vacation," Kurt laughed. "We're going to Paris for a week."

Burt wanted to cheer. He'd been trying to push them to take a freaking break for years. Mr. Anderson wasn't buying that as a good idea, though, Burt could see it in the set of his jaw. He wanted to haul off and shake some sense into the guy. He didn't see the way these kids worked every day. Who was he to judge whether they got a break or not?

"We have our bar review starting next week, and then we take the bar exam in July so we're licensed to practice," Blaine explained, maybe to appease his father.

Santana declared she would develop PTSD if they talked about bar exams anymore, so they switched the topic of conversation to reminiscences about high school. It carried them through lunch and well into the evening when the day finally began to cool off and the fireflies came out.

While Kurt and Blaine were in Paris the next week, Burt put all the finishing touches on his and Carole's plan to reward the boys for their incredibly hard work. He wasn't entirely surprised when they were interrupted early one morning by a phone call from Kurt.

"I asked Blaine to marry me, and he said yes! Well, actually, he tried to ask me, but he got tongue-tied and flustered like he does, so I took over."

So Burt and Carole's plans changed a little bit, but for the better. When Kurt and Blaine came home from Paris, they did so to an emptier house. Now that they had no sons to fill the third floor bedrooms, Burt and Carole gave the brownstone to Kurt and Blaine as a graduation/wedding present and moved into an apartment on C Street more suited to half-time residents. One day, the boys would have kids to fill up the two third floor bedrooms.

"Oh my God!" Kurt exclaimed. "We have a house! Blaine, we have a house! We have to redecorate and buy our own furniture and …."

Kurt was off on a litany of extravagant designs for each room that he would soon learn they couldn't afford until they both got jobs at the end of the summer, and even after that he'd want to save up for the lavish wedding he'd undoubtedly been planning since childhood. Blaine grinned easily and accepted all of Kurt's hopes and dreams for their house.

"The doggie bed can go right over there," he added.

Kurt went quiet for a moment, and tried to look disapproving, but couldn't manage it. Burt hid a laugh with a cough. Blaine might show his affection more outwardly with his expressive eyes and dopey grins, but that didn't mean Kurt wasn't just as head-over-heels. Sure, Burt had always known they were in love, but there was love and love.

"Yes, it can. And a doggie door in the kitchen door in case we have to work long days."

"Can he sleep in our bed?" Blaine asked eagerly.

Kurt huffed. "At the end of the bed."

Blaine cheered. Burt and Carole left with smiles and hugs for their boys and promises to take them out to celebrate their engagement properly another time.

o o o

Burt didn't expect to see the boys much over the summer. They had to study for the bar while the House was in session, and by the time they'd found out they'd passed with flying colors it was in recess. He managed to have one quiet night with them before he flew back to Ohio for a hopefully restful August when he could work at the tire shop in comfortable clothes for a change. No matter how often he wore ties, he still felt like he was being slowly strangled.

Kurt picked a fancy restaurant that required reservations and only ever had openings after nine o'clock. Burt still wondered who in the hell ate dinner that late. The lobbyists he despised eating with liked this place for lunch. The food was great, and since he was paying and not being pressed to sign this or that piece of legislation, he could actually enjoy it this time.

"Now that you're licensed lawyers and all that, we can finally talk about your start date," Burt said.

The boys shared a reluctant, almost pained look while they clasped hands under their side of the booth. Carole made a tutting sound in his ear, like he'd done something silly on purpose.

"Dad, as honored as Blaine and I are by your offer and your faith in our abilities, we've given this a lot of discussion, and we're in agreement. We can't work together every day."

"The intensity and inherent debate in political jobs puts an incredible amount of stress on a person, and we don't want to subject our relationship to those rigors every day for the rest of our lives," Blaine went on. "It's almost inevitable that we'll be on opposite sides of something at some time, but we want our home to be a haven, and we don't think we can create that working in the same office."

Burt looked over at his wife. "Did you know about this?"

"I suspected there had to be a reason they picked different law schools when they got into all the same programs. I can't imagine law school would be any less stressful if you're competing with the person sharing your bed. And men are always competing with each other, even if they won't admit it."

Blaine and Burt protested, but Kurt nodded significantly.

"So that's it? I'm losing out on the two best candidates to replace Louise because they're engaged? Somehow that doesn't seem fair."

On the other side of the table, the boys stirred in their seats. Their bright eyes showed all the ambition and ego they must have shoved aside to come to the decision not to take jobs from him. But chief of staff of a Congressman's office straight out of law school, that was something difficult to turn down. And, in fact, they didn't.

Louise sent regular reports on how her replacement was coming along (and also her husband's health situation, which didn't seem to be deteriorating anymore, so that was good) while the House was in recess, and Burt arrived back in the Washington office to find everything running without a hitch, almost as if there hadn't been a transition in leadership at all.

"On the legislative agenda today is the new health education bill. We've been getting a lot of calls from constituents about this one, and they're going to need some convincing that the bill is good as is. Both sides of the aisle are behind it, but the blowhards on talk radio didn't have anything else to attack yesterday. Now it's back to an abstinence-only versus sex ed debate even though that's not at all what the bill is about. The more spineless Congressmen are bailing on it. They want to send it back to committee. I've had Laurel drafting statements you can read to the press and got Josiah working on a rebuttal to the public's concerns which are totally unfounded anyway –"

"Hey, kid." Burt stopped in the middle of the tunnel running between the Rayburn building and the Capitol. The Congressman clasped his shoulder and squeezed. "You've already impressed me. That's why you got the job. I trust you to have everything I need when I ask you for it. But for now, just breathe, all right?"

Blaine took a deep breath through his nose and blew out through his lips, as if that too had been an order. Burt threw his arm around his future son-in-law's shoulder.

"Ah, kid. I'm glad I have you working with me every day."

As soon as Burt's colleagues had realized Kurt had no intention of working for him – something the other Congressmen with children in the profession couldn't quite comprehend – they scrambled to hire him on, but he had no intention of working on Capitol Hill if not with his dad. He worked at a government think-tank now. His employers wanted to start sending him on political news and debate programs to represent their interest as on-air talent, and Kurt couldn't have been happier about putting his higher education, stage presence, and natural wit to good use.

Burt went into the session with high spirits, and as usual, came out in a foul mood.

"Talk about blowhards," Burt grumbled back in the office.

"Did it –"

"The voting was delayed, which means it's not going to pass unless we do some damage control. I've said I'm in favor of the bill from the beginning, and so is the White House, so expect some calls about getting me to convince a few of the guys still on the fence. I'll do it, as long as it's an honest conversation and not some seedy backroom deal."

Burt honestly lost track of how long the voting was delayed, but it felt like he called someone or other trying to rally votes for it for weeks. On his way to a committee hearing, he caught a snippet of Kurt arguing in favor of the bill on MSNBC. He paused in front of the television, beaming at his little boy on the screen. He talked a mile a minute and had the left side of the panel laughing behind their hands, which Burt figured meant he was well on his way to becoming a political media darling. Of course he was. He was Kurt Hummel.

When he came out of his office at last, Blaine looked torn about whether he should come with Burt or stand in his office watching Kurt's segment. Burt popped his head into the office.

"Carole DVRs all his stuff."

With a sigh of relief, Blaine hurried out of his office with a stack of folders under his arm and talking just as rapidly as Kurt had on the TV to brief him about the so-called "expert opinions" he would be listening to in about five minutes. At least three of them were wackadoodle, according to Blaine, which Burt figured he'd get on his own, but he knew Blaine liked to be as thorough as possible to prepare Burt before the world watched him on CSPAN (or, rather, the roughly twelve people in the world who watched CSPAN).

In the chamber, Burt took his seat between two Congressmen who were wackadoodle in their own right. Blaine joined the small contingent from the Congressional office in the row behind the press and cameras. The chairman opened the session with general comments about why they gathered today and a history of the bill they were debating, along with the reason he believed it should return to the general assembly for a vote as is, before turning over the floor to the ranking Republican for remarks.

Only one thing made Congressional hearings interesting: scandal. Two minutes into the opposition's remarks, Burt knew they had it. He glanced into the crowd of staffers to see Blaine, and every other Democrat there, whispering and typing quickly on their phones.

"Furthermore, we propose an additional amendment to the bill: that no school receiving federal funds shall offer sexual education courses discussing, explicit or otherwise, sexual acts between members of the same sex."

When Burt exited the chamber later that afternoon, he had one directive for Blaine. "Call everyone in."

The entire Congressional staff, save the office manager, gathered in the conference room to devise a strategy for blocking the amendment before it could go to the House for a vote. Opinions flew for hours. They ran out of white boards for their brainstorming, but through it all, Burt said nothing. He tipped back in the handsome leather desk chair with his hand over his mouth and eyes fixed on the floor while he listened. When Connie brought Blaine a note, he interrupted the session.

"Thank you, everyone. The Congressman and I need the room."

Kurt slipped inside, closed the door, and took a seat next to Blaine. Burt watched them closely for several minutes without speaking. Obviously, Blaine already knew what he was going to say if he'd called in Kurt to try and talk him out of it.

"I'm not the most politically savvy guy in Congress, but even I know they'll be up in arms back home if I oppose this. These ideas you guys came up with to get the amendment off the bill, they're great, and they'll work, but someone else has got to do them. I can't touch this one."

Blaine's shoulders slumped. The kid had a great head for politics. He'd known from the moment it had been brought up in the hearing this would be the final outcome. Kurt, however, had not worked in the Congressional office nearly as long as Blaine. His job afforded him a great deal of freedom to share his opinions in whatever method he saw fit to win an argument.

"Dad, they're turning this into an anti-gay bill."

"I know, and it tears me up to not call out the bastards and fight this until my last breath, but I have to weigh the long-term goals here. If I don't get re-elected, that puts the Ohio 4th right back in the hands of some conservative politician like Salazar who will introduce bills like this left and right."

Kurt looked troubled and turned to Blaine for support. The other man nodded, some silent communication only they could understand. Or maybe, Burt thought, they'd talked about this before, and this was some moment they'd planned for.

"Since when did re-election become the goal?" Kurt wondered. "This was always a moral obligation for you, Dad. When did you stop speaking candidly about what you believe?"

Burt's brow furrowed, and he shifted around restlessly in his chair. That wasn't quite a fair assessment, except he knew exactly when he started picking his battles, and it coincided too closely to an election with a narrow margin of victory for his comfort.

"What do you really think about this amendment, sir?" Blaine asked.

"I think I've had nightmares about some cocky kid not strutting into my tire shop and telling me to get my act together, because then the first I'd hear about guys and parties might have been from Kurt the morning after it was too late for me to tell my son he mattered. I think sex ed classes should be required and cover all sexualities, because you never know who's sitting in the back of the room questioning, and not all fathers would march into a free clinic and ask for pamphlets about gay sex. I think it's a travesty that we have people trying to legislate ignorance and hate."

By the time he finished, Burt was breathing like a winded rhino, and Kurt and Blaine beamed at him with unsuppressed pride. Burt wondered when he'd stopped seeing that on their faces, and how he'd gone so long without it.

"Ten years is a good run in office," Blaine said. "You have a voting record that will do you credit. But this … this can be your legacy. We can do this, sir, and all it will cost you is a House seat you never aspired to anyway."

Burt sat back heavily in his chair. Ten years he had represented the people of the Ohio 4th. He'd dragged them out of the fringes and into the mainstream kicking and screaming, and maybe he'd left the district a better place for the people he'd always wanted to protect. He nodded slowly.

"If we're going to do this, it's not gonna be for nothing. We're gonna push through a brand new bill that puts a little more equality into our schools, so find a strong co-sponsor who's not backing out come hell or high water. And I'm not handing the election to Salazar after beating him so many times, so let's start thinking about when and how I'll announce my retirement and talk to the DNC about getting a candidate to run next year. If this is the end, let's make an end no one will ever forget."

The bill passed in February 2022, and Burt announced his retirement from the House of Representatives in May 2022 in a speech delivered from the courtyard steps of William McKinley High School.

"I ran for office the first time because I wanted to stand up and say I have a vision for a better world than the one we're living in, and I didn't just want to do it from my armchair in front of the television on election night. Now, I realize I made a lot of people angry with some of my votes and bills in Congress. But I'm proud to stand up here today and say that the man who leaves this office is the same one you elected eleven years ago."

o o o

"I'm so proud of him," Kurt said.

Blaine reached across the armrest and took his fiancé's hand. The flight attendant made a final check up the narrow aisle to ensure everyone had turned off their electronic devices before takeoff. They were on the last flight out of Columbus heading to D.C., and while they both had folders of work that could be done on the flight, they preferred to let it slide until they returned to the office in the morning. It was rare for them to have so many free hours to talk.

"I am too. I've always thought Hummel men were the most moral I've ever known."

"You're not sad at all? This means you're out of a job come January."

Blaine shrugged. "Not really. I have plenty of time to look between then and now, but I also thought I might take some time off first. You see, I have this incredible fiancé who is planning the most amazing wedding, and I think he's going to need some help getting everything done before March 15th."

Kurt's mouth formed a perfect O. "I'm sure he would appreciate someone to run his errands while he's on television reducing narrow-minded conservatives to sobs with his vicious rhetoric."

"I'm sure he would."

They were in a row to themselves, so Blaine pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek. He hummed in contentment.

"But after the wedding and honeymoon," Kurt said, more seriously. "There will probably be Congressmen and Senators banging down your door."

Blaine pulled a face. "I don't think I respect any member of Congress enough to go work for them. I think it's time for me to get back to my LGBT activism roots. Working for your dad was an incredible opportunity, but not something I'd aspired to. I'd really like to get out there on the streets and in the rallies and inspire change at the grassroots level."

"You've already been offered a position," Kurt surmised.

Blaine laughed. "I have, yes. I start the first of April next year. I was going to tell you over a romantic dinner, and you were going to be so thrilled to have a pack mule before the wedding that you would reward me with a sex marathon."

"You can't talk about sex marathons in the same sentence as pack animals. It's disturbing."

Blaine laughed lightly and shook his head as the plane started its taxi down the runway. He yawned through the takeoff, trying to make his ears pop. Despite all the years he'd been flying back and forth, takeoffs and landings still bothered him. When the plane leveled out, he went to work in earnest getting his ears to pop while Kurt flipped through his copy of Sky Mall.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Kurt mused.

Blaine glanced at his fiancé questioningly, but when he thought about it for a moment, he thought he understood perfectly. If someone had told him ten years ago that he would be a lawyer working as the chief of staff to a United States Congressman, he would have replied, 'Maybe in a play.' But now when he considered his life, he wondered how anything else had ever felt right. The decisions he'd made in life had led him so far from the scared boy who tried to find himself in songs, and yet maybe not so far after all. He still had Kurt, and against all odds they'd grown into people who could still love one another deeply. He had picked some new paths, but others were indelible.

"It is strange," he answered, "these circuitous lives we lead."