"C'Mon, people, I could do this in my sleep!" Jacob cried, his feet banging the ground in a heated frustration, not unlike Godzilla smashing a city and emitting terrifying noises of rage. "You're going to need to step up your game. We're going back to pre-K here. Do I need to tech you how to lace your shoes as well? Maybe ask you to wipe your noise so I don't have to do that as well?"
There was a collective rumble of groans and apologies that circulated through the room, drifting towards Jacob as the cast continued to rehearse; nearby, a clock tower chimed eleven times. "Now, it's clear our minds are focused somewhere else. Maybe it's… on food?" His eyes met Garret, who had sincerely been attempting the move with his partner for the last half hour. "On our spouse?" His eyes landed on Gerry. "Or, maybe, our kid." He picked Kurt out of the crowd, who had mastered the move and was now trying to help his partner. "Well, I hate to be blunt, but they're not here, nor will they be. You need to forget about them for now, do what's needed, and then we might actually be able to leave. Take your own damn time to think about those meager matters, alright?"
For another hour and a half, the cast continued to dance; at 12:43 AM, they were released; tired, starving bodies slouched through the door, heading for the nearest 24-hour diner or ambling back to the hotel, sleep clear in their eyes.
"Do you think Jacob has ever killed anyone?" Garret asked, clapping Kurt a couple of times on the back as if to wake him up; the nighttime air bit into their skin, sending a blast of icy air against their heated, sweaty skin.
"Mentally or physically?" Kurt asked, pulling out his phone and seeing that he had received five new text messages.
Daddy K, this is AJ! :-) Daddy B is typing for me… I miss you a lot, Daddy K, and hope your performing is going gr8! I wish you were here with Daddy B to sing me to sleep. :-( Still, I know you're having fun. Love you! xxoo AJ
Hey, son. Hope everything is going good. Miss you a million! –Carol
I had a dream last night that we were back at McKinley… except that everyone was in their underwear. You were wearing Vogue covers instead. Thought you should know. –Finn
Kurt ~ I miss you terribly. I know you're doing a fantastic job and enriching people's lives with your beautiful talent. AJ has a project at school where he has to make a timeline of his life, so I was searching through the trunks in the attic for old photos and found our prom pics. What a wonderful time we had together. Book is almost complete! Love you. xxoo B
P.S.
"Well, both, I guess. I mean, all of those dance steps really messes with your head and your body." Gerry caught up to the two men, placing herself on the end, next to Kurt. She was sweating profusely, her chocolate curls plastered to her forehead in a fit of perspiration; she was pale, her lips nearly jumping off of her face as they were the only thing with a substantial amount of color.
"Gerry, are you feeling alright?" Garret asked casually, his face gaining a concerned look.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
"No, seriously." Kurt grabbed her arm and stared at her through sleep-deprived, blue-green orbs. "It's okay if you're not. We can grab something real quick to eat and then head back to the hotel. We have plenty of time, since rehearsal doesn't start till two tomorrow."
She considered this option, finally caving in. "Sure. Let's just go there, grab a burger, and skedaddle—because, to be perfectly honest, I could probably collapse right—"
"Oh my God!" Kurt squealed, instinctively shying away from a hurling Gerry. She was bent in two, retching into the gutter; Kurt apprehensively approached her and held her curls back, rubbing soothing circles on her back like he had done with AJ and Blaine many times. "It's okay, sweetie… Get it out, it helps… You're going to feel tons better when this is all over…"
"Kurt, I'm so sorry!" Gerry cried, hot tears leaking down her face. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know, I know, what's most important is getting you back to the hotel room and getting some drugs in your veins to make sure you feel better."
"But Jacob—" She protested, color nearly dripping off of her transparent skin.
"I can handle Jacob." Kurt stated firmly; Garret walked around the pool of sick and grabbed Gerry's arm, and together the two men helped her to the hotel and into her room, making sure she was alright as he brushed her teeth, ate a few crackers, and went to sleep. The two returned to their rooms around two in the morning and found themselves awake with adrenaline, both sitting on their beds and busying themselves with their phones and journals, occasionally writing down the choreography they had learned or verses they needed help remembering. "That was… That was very nice." Kurt stated, his eyes meeting Garret's.
"What?"
"What you did." Kurt stated, playing with his hands in his lap.
"What? Helping Gerry? Of course, I'd do anything for her. We've come to an understanding." Kurt merely nodded.
"Just like us."
"Just like us."
~X~x~X~
"Knock knock…"
A soft echo circulated through the room; in its wake were little sound waves that transformed into rainbows.
"Blaine!" Kurt squealed, nearly jumping out of his bed and running towards his husband who had suddenly appeared at the door. He ran into his arms, hugging him tightly before stepping back to admire his handsome face.
But he was gone.
"Blaine…?" Kurt questioned; soon, AJ was standing there, exactly the same height as Blaine, and wearing his clothes, which were terribly baggy and extra long on him.
"Daddy K, why'd you have to leave us? It's not fair to us." AJ grabbed one of Kurt's most expensive Dior suits and began to maul it with scissors and glitter glue.
"No, AJ!" Kurt cried, reaching for the suit; it turned into Blaine, who was writhing on the ground with stab marks from the scissors and an odd glitter around his eyes, acting almost like eye shadow. "Blaine! No, no, no, wake up… C'mon!" Hot, devastated tears were racing down his face, heading towards the finish line as Kurt collapsed to his knees, grabbing Blaine's limp body as he tussled his curls. Then—
"Kurt, wake up, dude, you're spazzing out over there!"
He sat straight up, his silk purple pajamas creating fireworks with the static linen sheets. "Blaine?" He called out, his face turning from side to side as he looked around stupidly.
"No, idiot, we're in London."
"So kind and poetic, Garret."
"Hey, just because you're feeling better, that doesn't give you the right to insult me."
"No, but it does make it more fun."
"Gerry, you're—you're feeling better!" Kurt exclaimed, standing up and wobbling on the spot as he tried to shake the sleep—and the bad dream—out of his system.
"Yep, I'm up and runnin'." She told him, her eyes glittering from the bright light that was seeping through the windows. From the look of it, it had to be way past morning.
"What time is i—"
"It's eleven, Kurt. Now, go get ready and in your rehearsal clothes, we actually want to go out to eat before we have to be at the studio. Thanks." Garret pushed him towards the bathroom, rolling his eyes as he did so. "And you don't always have to apply, rinse, and repeat. We want to eat today, not in a couple days."
~X~x~X~
"Kurt, you need to—"
"Gerry, what are you still doing here?" He squealed, stepping backwards into the bathroom as he tightened his grip around the towel around his waist.
"Oh, c'mon, it's not like I haven't seen any of this before, Kurt. But seriously… Garret just got off the phone with his father. Who lives in England. Yeah, I know!" She exclaimed, nodding her head anxiously at his eyes, which were larger than dinner plates. "So just… be sensitive. He's worked up about if he's going to show up at a show, or if… I don't know what he thinks, but I'm sure—"
"I know. I'll downplay it."
And with that, he shut the door and tried to prepare for a day of endless possibilities.
~X~x~X~
"Rachel, I'm so happy for you!" Kurt squealed into the receiver at 1:50 PM, standing outside of the rehearsal space with his costume for the evening in his hand.
"Well, thank you, Kurt! Finn and I… Well, I was wondering more, really, and he said he would totally agree to it, which is so sweet of him, but—we were wondering if you and Blaine would like to be… Well, we were wondering if you would like to be godparents?"
"Oh my God, Rachel Hudson, I will always jump on the opportunity to have another person call me The Godfather! Of course! I'm sure Blaine would be more than happy with that, but call him up and tell him anyways! Oh, thank you, Rachel!" He exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down from excitement.
"Of course, Kurt. I was rather disappointed that she wasn't born a day later—then it could have been on Valentine's Day, and we were going to name her Valerie—but, the most important thing is that she came out positively screaming. My dads said I did the same thing, so I've come to the conclusion this can only mean one thing: that she's inherited my vocals."
Kurt sighed. "Rachel, it's okay that she wasn't born on Valentine's Day. Do you know how cliché that is?"
"Well, you're right." Rachel concluded, taking a breath for the first time in what seemed like ten minutes.
"Listen, Rachel, I've got to go, I have one more rehearsal before our opening night of Memphis."
"Memphis? Oh my God, it's simply brilliant, Kurt! Break a femur for me, honey!"
~X~x~X~
Once the final curtain call concluded, Kurt hustled back stage with his cast mates, all grinning and hugging and cheering. "Kurt, you positively killed that solo!" Garret exclaimed, clapping him on the back so that his knees buckled, threatening to let him down.
"Why, thank you, I thought so too, myself, but—You did positively great in the ensemble. Your reactions really added to the audience's understanding, and you nailed that dance move!"
"Really?" Garret questioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Because I thought—Oh. No. Sweet Jesus, no…!"
"Garret?"
"Excuse me, Kurt…" Garret told him, mumbling something about the bathroom and rushing away in the opposite direction. A tawny eyebrow was cocked in the air as Kurt watched him leave; soon, he was approached by a man. He had graying hair, though it was quite clear he had tried to use Bosley and it had not worked out too well. His skin was fairly tight; wrinkles were not a problem for him. Piercing blue eyes acted as an x-ray machine as they scanned over Kurt; his hand was intertwined with another. This other man had a bright array of features, including emerald green eyes, graying auburn hair, and an assortment of scattered freckles.
A wave of sudden understanding surged through Kurt Hummel-Anderson.
"You must be Garret's dads."
The two simply nodded, the three of them acknowledging and understanding together.
~X~x~X~
Kurt stared at the two men's hands that were sitting on the table, intertwined in a tangle of fingers. He stared at them with envy, wishing that Blaine was sitting next to him with the same act of love, or maybe a hand on the thigh or simply a lovely gaze.
"And that's how Garret reacted. He was never home. He just… left. I never knew if he was going to come home… But, somehow, he got into musical theatre, and bam! He's here. I haven't… I haven't seen him in fifteen years." The eccentric ginger, whose name Kurt understood to be Devon, told him; his partner, Shane, simply listened, having heard this spiel before. "I don't think he ever came to accept it. I mean—how did your dad take it when he found out?"
Kurt rested his hand on his chin, leaning against it as he thought. "He wasn't jumping up and down and squealing with glee." He told the two men. "But he accepted it. He's definitely learned to respect it, especially as I've gotten older and married. He positively adores our son, and he loves me. That's—that's all that really matters."
The two men nodded, glancing at each other simultaneously.
"You know, fellas, there's never a late time to talk to him about it. We've certainly had our struggles, but that doesn't mean you have to as well. Why don't you just—y'know—talk to him. Reunite. It's never too late to simply talk. And, while he might not miraculously accept it and start waving rainbow flags wherever he goes, he might begin to understand. And understanding is the first step to closure."
The three men left the coffee shop, heading towards Kurt and Garret's hotel room in what would surely be a fiery conversation.
~X~x~X~
Kurt sat on his bed, rubbing his temples and wishing desperately that Blaine could be here; Blaine was much better than him at explaining situations and simply listening to others; Kurt simply wanted to scream and possibly—probably—kick Garret in the head, stick his boot on the top of his head, and declare this land as acceptance for all kinds of people.
"Garret, just hear us out!" Shane explained, reaching for his hand as he attempted to calm their enraged son.
"No!" He cried, pacing around his side of the room, not evening glancing at Kurt. "You leave me alone for fifteen years, not evening bothering to try to contact me. You made me fend for myself, dad. Don't even pretend like you didn't! And, what's this, you've got a new guy hangin' around? Maybe that's why I was never home! Because you had someone new every night. Well, I bet, I bet you never stopped to even consider how I might feel about that, hmm? You call yourself a man."
Kurt silently exited the room, allowing the three to continue their discussion; he realized this could take a good portion of the evening and grabbed his bag, a pair of pajamas and all of the necessary toilet articles he might need in case he had to sleep over at Gerry's.
He knocked lightly on the door before opening the door; just as he did, he grabbed his vibrating cell phone.
I never want to see your stupid, ugly, homo face again, you got that, fag? I can't believe you talked to my dads. I thought you were better than that! How could you bring them to our room? If I wanted to talk to that damn man I would have done so on my own. Thanks for ruining my life. I never want to speak to you again.
Gerry beckoned him in, she herself grabbing her phone and opening it, her questioning face instantly turning serious. "Yes… Yes, I am his wife. Oh God… Yes…"
She exited the door before mouthing to Kurt, "It's about Joe."
~X~x~X~
DUN DUN DUUUUNNN. So, school has started, and it's been pretty good—but not for writing. Sorry for the slow(er) updates, but here is the latest one. Oooh la la… can't wait! 19 days until Glee: Season 3, premiers. WHOOHOO! Sincerely~Victoria
