A/N: Ok, I felt bad leaving you guys and gals hanging last chapter. Though I'm suspecting some of you will be none too happy with me/Burt after reading this one... But worry not, friends! Lose ye not all hope of Klainebows!

And because I feel bad and because I absolutely love you all and all your support of my creative insanity, I am offering the 104th reviewer (random, I know, but everyone chooses the 100th and I never follow the crowd lol) the chance to give me any Klaine prompt/situation and I shall write a one-shot dedicated to them! You want filth, I'll write it. More romantic fluff? Sure thing. Comfort? Vampires? Locked inside a RedVines factory? You name it. Just nothing completely morally repugnant, please. ;) And even if you're not the 104th reviewer, just know that I'm eternally grateful for every single response, review, alert, hit, that I've gotten. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Now please don't hurt me for this chapter! *cringes in the corner*

Here it goes…

"I'm his boyfriend, sir," Blaine repeated, sweating. He glanced at Kurt, who was looking back at him seriously, though his eyes glinted with emotion at hearing Blaine calling himself his boyfriend. But he'd focus on that later, when Blaine's head was safe from his father's chopping block. Hopefully.

"I met him at school. I go to Dalton Academy," Blaine explained, silently hoping that Burt couldn't smell his fear.

"Hang on. Dalton? That fancy prep school in Westerville?" Burt asked, his brows knit together in impatience.

"Yes, sir," Blaine nodded. He opened his mouth to continue when Burt turned to his son.

"What the hell were you doing in Westerville, Kurt?"

Kurt was paler than usual and took a deep breath, at last arriving at the moment of truth.

"It was during Blaine's art class. Ms. Dubois took a job there after she left McKinley, and she asked if I would…model for one of her lessons," he breathed.

Burt looked confused but still angry, his mind working tirelessly to make sense of what his son and this boyfriend were telling him.

"Model? Please tell me you weren't naked, Kurt," Burt stepped closer towards his son, who was clutching Blaine's hand as though a life preserver in a whirlpool. With an almost indeterminable nod of his head, Kurt confirmed Burt's fear. Burt looked scandalized.

"So let me get this straight: you met each other in an art class at a school across town, and you were naked?" Burt said with his jaw clenched. He was pinching the bridge of his nose tightly in an effort to calm down. It was proving to be a lot more strenuous than he expected.

Finn and Carole were standing off to the side, their faces frozen in shock and concern. All was creepily quiet.

"I'm going to have that woman arrested," Burt murmured threateningly. Kurt's eyes widened in fear. "You're underage and she had you posing nude. It's pedophilia."

"No, Dad! She didn't force me. I—I asked to do it. I've been modeling for a few years now," he choked out. The way his dad's eyes were bulging had Kurt worrying that his dad really was about to have a stroke.

"You've what? Kurt, why are you whoring yourself around?"

"Dad, I'm not whoring myself around! I'm not sleeping with anyone," though he gave Blaine's hand an extra squeeze, "It's just standing there and letting people draw me. I'm not always naked, either. I started doing it before I came out to you. I just felt so alone and hideous. People kept threatening my life and telling me I was worthless over something that I wasn't even sure about at the time. Ms. Dubois was there for me when no one else was and she helped me overcome my fear of even just walking down the halls of McKinley. She brought me in, taught me about how everything is beautiful, how everything is art, including me. I needed to feel like I was worth something. So I asked her if I could model for her," he finished breathlessly.

"Please, Mr. Hummel," Blaine pleaded, stepping forward, awaiting for the shit to hit the proverbial fan. And like a bolt, Burt's wrath was unleashed—upon him.

"YOU. You little pervert. Kidnapping my son after eye raping him!" Blaine was shocked into silence but found himself shaking his head in denial and disbelief.

"I didn't—I'd never, no," Blaine babbled, unbelieving of Burt's accusations. Suddenly, Kurt stepped forward, his back straight and his chin up in defiance and defense.

"He did not kidnap me, Dad! We went on a date! It got late so I slept over at his dorm. Blaine loves me and would never hurt me," Kurt said indignantly.

"So you are sleeping around! Stop lying to me, Kurt!" Burt yelled.

"Okay fine, yes, I slept with him. Because I'm in love with him. I've never loved someone so much in my life," Kurt said, turning to look meaningfully into Blaine's eyes, which glistened with tears.

"And I love him, too," Blaine said, never tearing his eyes from Kurt's.

"Get out."

"What?" Kurt and Blaine said in unison, tearing their gaze from each other to Burt.

Carole stepped forward and gingerly placed her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Burt, please calm down. You'll make yourself sick," she pleaded. He waved her off as though a fly buzzing annoyingly in his ear.

"You," he said through gritted teeth, pointing at Blaine, "Get. Out. Of. My. House. And stay the hell away from my son."

"No! You can't do that, Dad!" Kurt shouted, tears splashing out of his eyes.

"Watch me. Get the hell out before I literally throw you out. And I swear, if I ever see you near my house again, I'll have you arrested. Try it and see if I'm joking." His eyes were dark with his threat.

Against everything his heart and body were telling him to do, Blaine knew this was it. The fairytale romance was over. His chest constricted with aching pain as he turned to wrap his arms around Kurt, the boy he loved more than he loved art, music, singing, Italy, life, anything.

"Ti amo da morire, tesoro mio." He whispered in his ear before pulling away and walking out of the Hummel household, the door slamming immediately after crossing the threshold.

The last thing he saw was Kurt, whose eyes were red and puffy, and whose face was wet with the sobs that were wracking his entire body. Numbly, he walked to his car and commenced his long journey back to Dalton. Alone.