Happy Saturday, darlings!

I feel incredibly accomplished that I managed to get you all mad at the amazing Burt Hummel. I don't think this has ever happened before. I love it.

He means well, I promise. He's just a protective dad. And we love him for it, even if he's wrong this time!

Thank you all for the great comments.

Kudos and high fives for Christine, for being a wonderful beta and friend.

Again, thanks Sofi for the support and encouragement.

Enjoy!


There was no doubt at all that Burt Hummel was a flawed man.

He wasn't the most intellectual or cultured guy – sometimes when he listened to his son talking about designers or artists or about some weird French dish, he wondered if he was maybe a bit dumb, or if maybe he should have stepped out of his comfort zone a bit more. He was a simple guy and he knew it. He liked living in a small town, owning a tire shop, wearing the same comfy clothes every day. He liked football and beer and junk food (most of which he wasn't allowed to eat anymore thanks to his damn doctors). He had never aspired to much more than living the same life he was living now, with a loving wife and two wonderful sons. He was happy.

He was stubborn and sometimes old-fashioned, and he was sure Carole would be able to point out all the things that were wrong with him, though he was grateful she loved him in spite of them.

But there was one thing that he had always been proud of, that he knew he wasn't bad at: Burt Hummel was a good father.

Sure, he'd had his moments, his doubts. But he had always stood by his son, since he was three years old and Burt realized he was different. He had always protected him and loved him, put him first, held him when he had nightmares, tried to comfort him when he was sad, tried to understand all the musicals and fashion magazines he was into. He had fought for Kurt's right to love whoever he wanted to love, for him to be himself, even when it had cost him friends and family. Because Kurt would always come first.

Now he looked at his son, sitting across the table, moving mashed potatoes around his plate like he had lost his appetite, and wondered where he had gone wrong. Because there was no way that his bright, intelligent, sensible son had actually gotten involved with a guy nearly twice his age.

"Look, I did not drive nearly all night to surprise you only for you to look like I set fire to your Vogue collection," Burt said, dropping his fork on his plate.

Kurt closed his eyes and massaged his temples, like he was getting a headache. "Dad, I'm really happy that you came. I'm really happy to see you. But... the way you screamed at me in front of Blaine, the things you said..."

"Kurt, that guy..." Burt started, feeling indignant again.

"I know what you think," Kurt interrupted. "And I know what it looks like. But he's a nice guy..."

"A nice guy who likes sleeping with young boys?" Burt retorted, and Kurt made a face of disgust.

"Can you not make it sound so twisted? God, dad, please. I'm an adult," Kurt said, a little desperately. "I've lived away from home for two years now. I have two jobs. I... I should get to decide who I sleep with."

"You do realize that he's closer to my age than yours, though, right?" Burt said, because he needed Kurt to understand. He couldn't see why Kurt didn't realize how weird and how creepy this was. "Kurt, come on. You're an attractive guy. You're smart and funny and witty... are you telling me you can't find someone more appropriate to date?"

Kurt hid his face in his hands. "Would it really be so wrong to want him?" He asked, and looked up at him with imploring blue eyes that reminded Burt too much of his mother. God, what would have Ellie said? "I promise he's a fantastic guy. He's really respectful..."

"Yeah, he looked really respectful with his hands in your underwear," Burt muttered angrily. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Come on, Kurt. You're always telling me I need to worry less. Don't you think I'm going to worry more, knowing you're with him?"

He saw him swallow, like there was something heavy lodged in his throat. "I don't want to be the reason you get sick, no. But... I really wish you could see him the way I do, Dad. He's not a bad guy..."

"Maybe he's not. Maybe you're right," Burt said, and shrugged. "I don't know him. Maybe he has good intentions... but it's weird, Kurt. I don't think I could ever be okay with this."

Kurt nodded sharply, and didn't say another word.

Burt hated this, hated making his boy look like this. But he was still so young... and Kurt had always believed the best in people, and where had that gotten him? He'd had so many disappointments, so many heartaches already in his short life. He wanted to spare him what was sure to be just another one.

Even if this Blaine guy was decent, he didn't want him in his son's life.


Blaine only allowed himself to glance at his phone once he was leaving Mike and Tina's place later that night, after having spent the entire day eating, chatting and playing with the kids. He had smiled and pretended everything was fine, but he was secretly waiting for his phone to ring, for Kurt to tell him everything was alright, for him to tell him he had talked to his father and made him see that Blaine was good and decent and...

A forty year old perv.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

There were no messages or missed calls from Kurt.


The sky was grey and taciturn on Friday morning, almost as if it were threatening the first snow of the season. Blaine took one look outside his window and covered his head with his blankets, burrowing further into bed. He had no plans today – unless laundry and vaccuuming counted as plans. And judging by Kurt's total silence, he had no one to see, no one to call.

It was a pity that things were going to end like this between them. It had been the most intense thing Blaine had experienced in many years, and Kurt was probably the most special guy he had met. It was logical, though, that things would fall apart as soon as Kurt's family got involved. Blaine could have never expected to have his father's approval.

He had never really been good with father figures of any kind. Not even his own.

He shook his head and closed his eyes, burying his head on the pillow. Thinking about his own father was the last thing he needed. It was in the past, at least. And even if the past hurt, it was gone. Only the memories haunted him now.

And Kurt was probably about to become a memory, and nothing more.


As soon as Cooper came back, it was easier to pretend. Blaine was back to managing his brother's life, to making sure he was ready for work, to taking care of every domestic aspect, to take him from the studio to interviews, to remind him when he had to go to the dentist or the gym. It was easier to fill his head with all the things he needed to do, to push away the thoughts of Kurt, of his lovely pink lips, of his long fingers pressed to his chest, of the sound of his laughter. It was easier to pretend nothing was wrong.

Cooper, as usual, was too self-absorbed to realize his brother's time went back to being exclusively his. But Tina... Tina wasn't fooled as easily.

Blaine didn't know exactly how she did it. Maybe she could read between the lines when he texted her, maybe there was something in his voice when she called him on the phone, or maybe she just had a sixth sense. But she knew. She always knew.

On Wednesday, Blaine was standing against the kitchen counter, eating pasta right from the pot – was there anything more depressing? – when the doorbell rang. He put his miserable dinner down and headed to the front door, only to find Tina there, her face already filled with concern.

Blaine's first thought was that something had happened and she was upset. Maybe a fight with Mike. Which led him to think about the suitcases he was hiding for her husband – he was glad he had moved them to the office on the second floor now. She rarely went in there.

"Tina? What are you doing here?" He asked, moving aside because she was already coming in, and she would have crashed against him if he didn't. "Is something wrong?"

She unwrapped her long purple scarf from her neck and dropped it on the back of the couch before beginning to unbutton her coat. "I'm here to see you, silly."

Blaine blinked at her in confusion. "Okay, but... were we supposed to meet and I forgot? Because I still have to finish revising some contracts for Cooper, and then I have to..."

"You work too much," she cut him off. Without waiting for him, she marched towards the kitchen. Blaine hurried to follow, and once he caught up to her, found her looking sadly at his dinner. "Oh, Blaine, no. What happened?"

He immediately dropped everything in the sink, as if that would make it all disappear. "What do you mean, what happened? Everything's fine."

"Please, you're the most proper guy I know. You don't eat out of the pot unless you've lost all will to live," she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing. "I've been suspecting something's wrong since Thanksgiving. You looked a little upset, but I figured it was because you've never been a fan of the holidays. But it's clearly something else."

Blaine groaned. Sometimes he hated that Tina knew him so well. "I'm fine, I promise," he started to say, and when she kept looking at him expectantly, he realized he would have to be honest or she would never stop. "Okay, alright. Things are over between me and Kurt."

"Oh no," she muttered sadly. "Why?"

The last thing Blaine wanted to do was relive the moment Burt Hummel had walked into the loft to find him groping his son, but he knew Tina would not desist until he told her the truth. She was really good at figuring out when you weren't telling her the whole story, too, so the sooner Blaine talked, the sooner she would go back home and leave him alone.

"Because his father doesn't want him seeing a forty year old perv," Blaine replied as nonchalantly as he could, as if the words didn't feel like a knife twisting in his stomach.

Tina gasped and pulled on his hand to get him to sit at the kitchen table. "Blaine, don't say those things about yourself. You're not a perv, and you're not forty yet either..."

"Oh that wasn't me," Blaine said. "I'm just quoting what Mr. Hummel said when he saw me with his son."

"What?" Tina said, looking incredulous. "He said that?"

"Yes," Blaine muttered tiredly, running his hand down his face. He just wanted to crawl into bed and go to sleep. Maybe the new day would bring something better. Or maybe not, but he would get to pretend like everything was okay, at least, as he had been doing for over two decades now. "Look, it doesn't matter. This wasn't supposed to be serious anyway."

"But you care about him," Tina retorted softly, and Blaine hated that her eyes were full of pity. "You're clearly miserable, Blaine, look at you. You're back to being that guy you were right before you met him, when all you did was work and live your life for Cooper and Cooper alone. Do you think maybe you could...?"

"Tina, he hasn't called or texted in the past week," Blaine shrugged like it didn't matter. "He's clearly over it. He clearly doesn't want anything to do with me. I don't know what kind of argument he had with his father after I left, I... I don't know, okay? And it shouldn't matter anyway. I guess we had an expiration date from the start."

Tina bit her lip, like she was trying to stop herself from saying something she knew Blaine wouldn't want to hear. "I'm sorry, Blaine," she said instead. "I don't like seeing you like this."

"I'll be fine," he reassured her, giving her a quick pat on the knee. "Aren't I always?"

He didn't like the way she looked at him, like she could see right through him, like she knew exactly how many times he had claimed to be fine only for it to be a total and absolute lie.


It was very important for Santana Lopez to enter any room like she owned it. If she oozed confidence, people learned at first glance that she was someone to be respected and, sometimes, feared. That was probably the only valuable lesson she had learned in high school. The McKinley High halls had trained her well for real life.

It didn't matter if deep down inside she was feeling vulnerable, scared shitless or disappointed. As long as she could keep the facade, as long as she walked with her head held high, people would never guess, would never know.

Today, her heart was beating a little harder than necessary, but not a single person around her could tell. She had been sitting with her back perfectly straight, her hair falling behind her shoulders like a gorgeously bright and dark cascade, her legs crossed elegantly. The tiny black and red patterned dress she was wearing looked painted on her. She knew she looked hot. She knew everyone looked at her. And her beauty was also a perfect tool – if they were too distracted looking at how beautiful she was, they didn't have time to notice anything else.

Santana had had many years to perfect this. She knew exactly how and when to hide.

An assistant who seemed on the edge of having a breakdown – everyone here seemed on the edge of having a breakdown – gestured for her to follow him, so Santana stood up, careful not to let her dress roll up, and walked behind him, towering a bit over him in her high heels.

"Cooper's ready for your session now," he explained hurriedly. "We may need to stop the shooting to change things such as lightning or camera angles, so just know you might be repeating the same stuff over and over again. Try to act natural every time, okay? I know it might be a little annoying, but these things happen."

"No problem," Santana said calmly.

Television studios were incredibly crowded places. Santana had to walk quickly in order not to be in the way of someone else coming in the opposite direction. But soon she saw the set where they were supposed to tape her session – there was a small stage with a band in which she was going to practice the song that Cooper was going to assign her, faced by a brown leather couch where Cooper was already sitting, sipping on a coffee and talking to his brother.

Santana wasn't aware of exactly what had happened between Blaine and Kurt during Thanksgiving, but Kurt now looked like someone had killed his puppy and turned it into a fur coat. He was back to being obnoxiously moody, which meant he wasn't getting laid regularly, which meant Blaine was out of the picture. One mention of Blaine from Rachel had almost resulted in Kurt jamming a butter knife into her eye, so both she and Rachel had decided to stay clear of the topic. The thing about Kurt Hummel was that, when he was ready, he came to you.

So far, though, nothing. And it was getting irritating to walk around him as if stepping on eggshells.

Maybe she could find out something from Blaine...

"... so after this you have a dinner party at the network's director's house," Blaine was saying, eyes going from his phone to his brother, as if trying to make sure he was paying attention. "I already talked to Hugh, he's picking you up at your apartment. I left a suit for you to wear on your bed, and a couple of ties so you can choose the one you like best."

"I'll probably choose a blue one, you know, it makes my eyes pop," Cooper said. The make up artist approached him and began to fix his hair and powder his face. He smiled up at her charmingly.

"Yeah, it does..." Blaine said tiredly, like he wasn't even paying attention. When he glanced up, though, he found Santana standing there. Something in his face changed, something that Santana couldn't quite identify. She didn't really know the guy, after all. "Right. So. I should go. I'll be in your trailer tidying things up." He took the empty cup of coffee from Cooper and then made his way towards the exit, which lead him straight to Santana. He paused. "Santana, hi. It's nice to see you again."

"You too," she said simply, doing her best to read what the hell was going on on his face, and failing miserably. "How have you been?" She asked instead, hoping he would say something that would help.

"Very well, thanks," he said automatically, and she wondered if he was so used to saying that by now that he didn't even notice how insincere he sounded. "How about you? Excited to get started?"

"Yes, can't wait to start singing," Santana replied, letting just a bit of her excitement show.

"That's great. I'm sure you'll be fantastic." Blaine paused awkwardly, and it looked like he was battling with himself before he said: "And how's..." he stopped again and seemed to change directions at the last possible minute, adding: "Rachel?"

Sure, Rachel's the one you want to know about. "She's as well as she can be when she was born obnoxious."

Blaine chuckled uncomfortably and nodded. "Well, tell her I say hi, and... I've got to go now. But break a leg."

Santana watched him go. It seemed like he couldn't get away from there soon enough. What the hell had happened between him and Kurt?

"Well, there's my big star!" Cooper exclaimed, finally noticing Santana standing just outside the set. When she turned to him, he was smiling so brightly the lights reflected off his teeth. He waved her in. "Come on, don't be shy!"

Santana plastered a winning smile on her face as she went towards him. She extended her hand. "Mr. Anderson."

"Oh, that's so formal," Cooper laughed, grabbing her hand between both of his own and just holding it. "Please, call me Cooper."

"Cooper it is," she said with a nod.

"Let me take you in," Cooper said, a kind way to let her know he was about to ogle her. "You are absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," Santana said casually, as if she was already aware of the fact. Which she was.

"Sit down, let's chat a bit," he said, patting the space next to his, still holding Santana's hand. "We should get to know each other, don't you think? Since we're going to spend so much time together..."

Santana sat down. It was so painfully obvious that Cooper was flirting with her – his thumb was sweeping over the back of her hand, he shifted slightly closer, crowding her against the armrest, and his smile was clearly supposed to be irresistible. She arched her eyebrow disbelievingly at him.

"So, tell me," he said in a low, sensous voice. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Oh this guy was laying it on thick. "No," Santana said simply.

Cooper feigned shock. "Really? A gorgeous girl like you, with no boyfriend?"

"Well, there's a reason for that," she said, biting her lip in a way that had him snapping his eyes down to watch her mouth.

"Oh yeah?" He breathed, moving a bit closer again.

"Yes," she muttered. "I'm a lesbian."

Cooper blinked at her for a moment, looking very dumb, before he dropped her hand. "Oh, I see!"

"I expect you won't have a problem with that, especially considering your brother is gay," Santana said, keeping her tone leveled. She smiled for good measure.

"Of course I don't have a problem with it. I'm very involved in causes that benefit the LGBT community," he said, smiling back. She was tempted to ask him which causes, exactly, because she was sure he was full of shit. "Wait, how do you know my brother's gay?"

"He's been sort of dating one of my roommates," Santana shrugged. He figured Cooper knew about Kurt.

Cooper sat back, putting a little distance between them. His smile wasn't as bright as it had been a minute ago. "You don't say."

"Well, I don't know if they're still seeing each other, but yeah." Santana waited for Cooper to say something, but it seemed he had completely lost interest in what she was saying. "How about we talk business?"

"Sure," he said, sounding bored. "Once we start taping I'm going to give you your song assignment and we can start rehearsals..."

Cooper vaguely explained a few things, but he was now looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram.

Santana had the impression that this guy wasn't very into his job, like he would have been okay being here or anywhere else. But she was going to make him care, because her career depended on it.

She needed to win this thing. She needed a new life.

And Cooper Anderson would have to help her, whether he wanted to or not.


The words began to blur so Kurt stopped reading, sat back in the uncomfortable library chair and rubbed at his tired eyes. With just one quick look at his phone he realized he had been reading non-stop for almost three hours now. No wonder he felt about ready to crawl under the table and take a nap right there.

The few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas were always a nightmare. Finals were just around the corner so he had no choice but to sit down on whatever free time he had and prepare for them. He was absolutely drained and tired, but at the same time, he welcomed the distraction, even if he was miserable. It kept him from thinking about Blaine.

Vogue had also turned into a nightmare. The fact that he hadn't gotten fired only made the other interns hate him more, and now with the end of the internship in plain sight, the competition had gotten even more vicious. Kurt tried to just focus on his work and stay away from the others, but sometimes he just couldn't avoid them. He made sure he never left a cup of coffee or bowl of salad unattended – he wouldn't put it past them to actually poison him to get rid of him.

So, yeah, Kurt was feeling dramatic. But stress could do that to a person.

The diner was the only thing that remained unchanged. It just sucked as it always did. He was grateful for the quieter shifts, when he could just sit behind the counter and study until he was needed again.

He was very little at the loft – partly because he was so busy, but also because he was trying to avoid his nosy roommates and their annoying questions. So he usually went to Vogue, then class, then the diner and finally the library until he was so tired he barely made it home in one piece.

Kurt Hummel wasn't particularly happy about his life at the moment, but he really didn't have any time to consider doing something about it.

Despite the fact that it was past eleven, the library was still full of increasingly deranged students racing against the clock to get their finals ready. Kurt guessed most of them didn't need to make the commute all the way to Bushwick, though, so he decided to pack up his things and go home. If he was lucky, he would be in his bed just before midnight.

Earlier that week, the first snow of the season had fallen. The air was still crisp, the ground slippery, and the chill seemed to bite at Kurt's fingertips as he pulled his coat tighter around him, before fixing his scarf. He stifled a yawn as he made his way down the front steps towards the sidewalk, starting his march towards the subway station. His whole body felt heavy with exhaustion, mind burdened with names and dates he needed to remember for his Theatre History final. Maybe he should have picked up a cup of coffee after his shift at the diner, or maybe there just wasn't enough caffeine in the world to keep him going anymore.

Kurt walked at a brisk pace, hoping it would help him keep warm. He took the steps down to the subway station two at a time, only to see his train had just left, the platform deserted as the last few passengers who had gotten off at this stop left the station. He groaned and leaned against the wall, something he usually wouldn't do due to how gross everything was, but he was getting too tired to even support his own weight.

It hadn't even been a minute when he realized he wasn't alone at the platform. There was a man sitting on a bench a few feet away, his eyes fixed on Kurt. Something heavy and bitter settled in the pit of Kurt's stomach. He took a look around, hoping someone else would arrive, but he couldn't see anyone, not even a guard. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to inch towards the exit, only to realize the stranger had moved and blocked his path towards it.

"Hey," the man said. "Nice coat."

Kurt ignored him. He didn't want to look completely away, but he averted his gaze. He didn't know what to do. His hand tightened on the strap of his messenger bag.

"I'm talking to you," the man insisted, taking a few steps towards Kurt. "Didn't your momma teach you manners?"

"Please, leave me alone," Kurt said as calmly as he could. "I'm just trying to get home. I don't want any trouble."

"I'm just giving you a compliment. Can't you just say thank you?" The man laughed, and he was almost close enough to reach out and touch him now.

Kurt swallowed, which was proving incredibly difficult, and tried to think, but it was so hard when he was so close. Oh, why hadn't he followed Rachel's example and bought mace?

"Are you deaf or stupid? I'm talking to you!" The man said, now angrily, and pushed Kurt harshly, until his back hit the wall.

"Please, I don't have any money," Kurt said, thinking bitterly about the tips he had collected in his shift earlier that day.

"Well, but you have this nice coat..." The man smiled now, in a crooked way that terrified Kurt to his core. "Come on, let me try it on."

With another push when Kurt didn't move fast enough, he took his coat off and let the man snatch it. But clearly he wasn't satisfied enough, because he pushed Kurt once more and grabbed at his scarf, pulling on it to get it off and almost choking Kurt in the process.

Kurt was now praying to every deity he didn't believe in that someone, anyone, would arrive at the station now and help him. But it seemed that not believing in anything for twenty years meant no one was listening.

He managed to untangle himself from the scarf and hoped that would be enough to get the man off his back, but his dark eyes travelled down to his bag. With a shaky breath, Kurt's fingers closed around the strap.

"Please, don't. I really have nothing of value..." he pleaded desperately. "Just some text books and they wouldn't be of any..."

"Shut up already," the man said, clearly losing his patience with him. The hand that he wasn't using to hold Kurt's coat and scarf on closed into a fist. "Or I'll make you shut up."

"I'm sorry, I just..." Kurt muttered, only for the man to plant his fist on his face so hard it felt like his skull was vibrating.

"I said shut up!" The man screamed. He tried to hit Kurt again, but he managed to lift his arms and protect his head this time.

There was a moment of confusion in which Kurt's head still felt like it had been hit with a shovel. He could feel the pushes and the tugs, but he couldn't quite register what the hell was happening until it all ended, in just a matter of seconds, and he was sprawled on the disgusting platform floor, devoid of coat, scarf and messenger bag. He looked around and caught one last glimpse of the man as he ran away carrying his things. For a wild moment he thought about standing up and following him, but just the thought made him want to throw up.

Kurt was exhausted and suddenly sore. It hadn't been more than a quick tussle, and deep down inside Kurt knew it could have escalated horribly in a matter of seconds, but he was shaking so hard he didn't know what to do.

His phone had been in his bag and he couldn't call anyone to help him. The station remained empty. And in his suddenly foggy brain, there was only one clear thought.

Blaine.

He was scared and alone, and the only thing he wanted – more than pretending this hadn't happened, more than being safe in his own home, more than turning back time and leaving the library early – was Blaine. He was overwhelmed with the thought of him, with the need for him – he wanted Blaine's arms around him. He wanted to see his face. He wanted to apologize for the radio silence he had allowed to grow between them in the past couple of weeks.

He just wanted to see him again, because he realized that it was the only thing that mattered right now.

He had been so stupid... he had been so embarrassed of the way his father had acted in front of Blaine. Everything had gone from being amazing to horribly wrong in the blink of an eye and instead of being brave and calling Blaine to explain, to apologize...

Kurt couldn't stop shaking. His head was filled with the echoes of pain and his heart was trying to beat its way to cardiac arrest. He struggled to get to his feet, unsure if his legs would be able to support him, holding on to the wall just in case. He started to make his way out of the station as he told himself to breathe, breathe, please just breathe...

He climbed back out to the street, very slowly, as if every step was a mountain. When he reached street level, he looked up at the tall buildings framed by the dark sky. While he was down at the platform, it had started to snow.

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself – he had never felt as utterly alone as he felt right then.


Silly boys being silly, Cooper being an asshole, Santana being the star she is, and Kurt finally realizing that what he wants and what he needs... is Blaine. This chapter has a bit of everything. Can't wait to see what you guys thought.

See you next week! Thank you for reading!

L.-