wow, I'm a dick. I'm officially the worst person ever. I apologize so, so, so, so, so much for just stopping writing this. Honestly, I'd written everything a long while ago, and I kinda lost steam on this story. But I'm slowly starting to make my way through the suggestions people dropped (emphasis on slowly). If you have any more suggestions, leave a review or PM me. I can't promise they'll be written soon, but I will try to write them all!
This chapter is dedicated to Drunalove who prompted it for me! I really like this one, since I'm exploring the kids more, something I hadn't really thought too much about before.
When Brendan was little, he had a father. Other kids in his kindergarten class talked about playing ball with their daddies, but all Brendan knew was an angry man shouting, "I am your father!" at him as he cowered in a corner.
And then one day, Brendan and his mommy were making dinner together when his father came home.
Brendan didn't understand why, but his mommy's eyes grew wide and scared, and she told him to go to his room. She told him not to leave until she came to get him.
She never came to get him.
Brendan sat next to his bed, curled up in a ball and holding tightly to his teddy bear. He could hear his father's shouts and his mommy's pleas from downstairs. He heard thumps and crashes. He heard his mommy scream.
That was the last he ever heard of his mommy.
A long time later, a nice lady came up to his room and told him that he had to pack a bag to leave. Brendan didn't understand what was going on. "Mommy said not to leave until she told me," he said.
"Your mommy is badly hurt, Brendan," the woman said.
"What happened?"
"Your daddy hit her." Brendan was too scared to correct the woman and tell her that the man was his father. "One of your neighbors heard noises and called us. We're going to take you someplace safe where he can't hurt you again."
"What about mommy?"
The woman just looked sad.
Brendan decided from a young age that he didn't want a father - nor did he need one. Having a father had never done him any good; in fact, it had ruined the most wonderful thing in the world, his mommy.
So when Mrs. Kelly at the orphanage told him that two fathers were looking for a son, Brendan knew that he didn't want them. Not because they were two men who were together, but because he didn't want another father, let alone two.
But then Mr. Hummel and Mr. Anderson walked into the room. And somehow Brendan felt safe with them.
Brendan moved in with Mr. Hummel and Mr. Anderson (Kurt and Blaine, as they'd told him to call them) a few months later.
A few months after that, he was lying in bed and couldn't fall asleep. Clutching his teddy bear's paw, Brendan walked into the living room. Kurt and Blaine were curled together on the couch; Blaine reading a book and Kurt watching a program on TV.
"Bren!" Kurt said when he noticed the 10-year-old. "What are you doing up?"
"I don't want a father," he whispered.
Kurt and Blaine exchanged panicked looks. "I thought you said that you liked living with us, Brendan," Blaine said quietly.
Brendan nodded his head violently. "I love you," he said simply. "But I never had a daddy before." He paused for a moment, unsure himself of what he was trying to say. "Can you be my daddies?"
The idea of having two daddies had never seemed strange to Brendan. In fact, it was the perfect solution. He'd never had a daddy before. And he didn't want another mommy - his mommy had been perfect, and there was nothing and no one in the world who could replace her.
But some of the kids in school thought that having two daddies was bad. They thought it was weird. The older kids teased Brendan on the playground.
"My daddy says that sick freaks like your dads deserve to die!"
"You'll probably turn out just as creepy as them!"
"Your dads are just stupid fags!"
"Daddy?" Brendan said quietly. He was sitting at the kitchen table, working on a math worksheet while Blaine prepared dinner.
"Yeah, Bren?" Blaine asked, not turning from the cutting board in front of him.
"What's a fag?"
Blaine's entire presence shifted immediately. He grew unnaturally stiff, stopped chopping immediately, and sucked in a deep breath. "Where did you hear that word?" he asked, trying to control his emotions.
"One of the boys at school told me that my dads are gross fags. But I don't think you're gross. Why would he say that about you and daddy?"
Blaine sighed and turned around, massaging his temples slightly. "Brendan, you know how your daddy and I explained to you about our relationship?"
"You said that you are gay and you like other men instead of women and it's perfectly okay to be either way?"
Blaine nodded in confirmation. "Well," he said slowly, "there are some people out there that don't think so. There are a lot of people in the world who don't think that your daddy and I should be allowed to get married or adopt kids. Those sort of people call men like your daddy and me 'fags.' It's a really, really mean word for someone who is gay."
Brendan's eyes grew wide. "But you're the best daddies in the world!" he said.
Blaine smiled, loving his son's pure innocence. "Thank you, Bren," he said. "You have no idea how much I love hearing you say that. I know that your daddy and I are going to make some things harder for you, but you need to just remember that those people are just small-minded idiots, okay?"
Brendan giggled slightly, and Blaine sighed. He'd been hoping that this conversation would never have to happen - or that it wouldn't happen for another few years at least. "Come here, kid," he said warmly, holding his arms open to his son.
Brendan ran forward and launched himself into his daddy's warm embrace. "I love you, daddy."
A lot of kids - and their parents - thought that Brendan's daddies were bad because they were two daddies instead of a mommy and a daddy. But Brendan had had a father who was married to a mommy, and he was an awful parent. Brendan knew that his daddies were the best parents ever, and it had nothing to do with who they loved, as long as they loved him.
