AN:
HI EVERYBODY! Thank you so much for liking and favoriting and reviewing this story. It is great encouragement to continue!
In this chapter, Blaine and Kurt finally meet. We also meet Burt. All I'm gonna tell you.
In addition, your reviews have been very helpful. Please review and be kind. Thank you!
HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3
Chapter 3
"Daaaaad!" Kurt whined. "You don't need to bring your ration pack with you. The war is over!"
"I know that, Kurt." Burt said. "I just…like carrying it around. It's a habit."
"Well," Kurt began, crossing the parking lot towards the grocery store, his limp walk making it more difficult to keep up with his dad,"it's dumb. People would think you're square or somethin'."
"I don't care. I feel better carrying it." And then, Burt smiled. "Besides, Kurt. This ration pack got us through some hard times during-"
"The war." The surly teen interrupted. "The war. The war! The war is over!"
They approached the front door and opened it.
"Again, I know that Kurt. I'm just grateful to this little ration pack here…" he pressed his hand against his pocket and wistfully smiled. Then, he addressed his son. "Hush your mouth now, boy. We're in the store." And then, Burt leaned in and whispered, "I think you're just mad because you didn't do well on your math test!"
"I would've," Kurt began, grabbing a shopping cart, "if you didn't throw in the 'no quadratic formula' rule."
Burt laughed a little, keeping up with his son. "Well, that's a hard lesson in life, kid. Sometimes, you have to approach things from more than one point-of-view."
"Hmmmph."
They didn't talk much more after that. They'd grown accustomed to these little, father-son arguments. After all, Burt was a successful machine parts manufacturer and a respected member of the community. He only wanted the best for his son. And what father doesn't? Burt Hummel was the proud owner of the newest Plymouth Fury, a brand new black and white TV, a ham radio set so he could talk to the Soviets, and enough cash to blow on gambling any night he wanted.
He didn't, of course. Instead, as he perused the fresh spices that his son was inspecting, he chose to homeschool his kid. Kurt was getting the best education that money could buy. But money didn't buy it. It was deftly ensured by the one and only Burt Hummel. Burt Hummel who knew best, who would always know best, and was then placing a firm arm around his son's shoulders.
That's when Kurt took a long step ahead, embarrassed by the sudden affection. Burt scoffed and watched his son pick up some fresh saffron and salt from the spice aisle. But Burt discovered the error.
"Uh, Kurt?"
The boy came to a stop and turned around. "What?"
"Ummm….you picked up tarragon. And sugar."
Kurt looked down and squinted. "I…I did?"
Burt compassionately said, "Here. Let me hel-"
"I can do it!"
Kurt marched passed him and incorrectly placed the tarragon and sugar back. Burt let this one slide and instead, stood beside his son as he scoured the labels. Kurt's face couldn't have been an inch from the labels and a few women around them stared at him. Burt cordially smiled and the women went on their way. But the moment wore on the elder Hummel as Kurt continued to struggle to see the labels.
Suddenly, Burt grabbed a bottle of saffron and a container of salt and hurled them in the cart.
"You should wear your glasses, Kurt."
The boy whirled around and growled, "I will NOT be called 'Four Eyes', dad!"
Burt winced. "I know, son. But you can hardly see without-"
"I don't want to talk about it anymore!"
Kurt's dad knew that tone of voice. It was the sound of hurt and embarrassment. Burt sure as hell didn't want to upset his son any further, but when you're a protective papa bear, you do and say things that will upset people. Even your own family. He stared helplessly at his son, knowing Kurt was suffering. And yet, in the end, strength always wins out. Burt simply placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder.
"Let's go." He said. Kurt followed. And they continued their shopping.
As they zipped through the rabbit maze that is a grocery store, there appeared to be someone watching them from afar. Of course the Hummels didn't see him and didn't care. Burt and Kurt were looking at those new meals called 'TV dinners' and were astounded that NASA inspired these new fangled things. The guys were curious about them and wanted to give them a try. Out of habit, Burt reached for his ration book again and Kurt sighed. Burt quickly took his hand out of his pocket, leaving the book in there. They went on.
Meanwhile, their follower wasn't too far behind.
"So, Kurt," Burt said, coming to a stop near the new TV dinners, "what kind do you want to try?"
Kurt heavily squinted at the glass, trying his best to read the fine, Art Deco letters of the boxes. He could see the colors and he drifted between the boxes, convincing himself that he knew what he was doing. He studied and studied, perusing the shapes and forms but not really reading or even clearly seeing them. Burt just sighed.
"How about turkey and mashed potatoes?" Burt resignedly asked.
"Sure."
Burt reached for four of the little boxes and smiled. "Oh look! It says there's a cherry dessert!"
"Really?" Kurt asked. And then, he steadied himself. "Oh. I knew that."
Burt threw the boxes in the cart. Kurt pushed. The interloper followed.
As they drifted along the aisles, they picked up a variety of canned goods. Since it was the era of the Cold War, aluminum and tin cans were always in high demand. Burt argued they already stockpiled enough for a war, but Kurt was scared of The Bomb and wanted more. With a sigh, Burt picked up some canned baked beans, beets, and spinach. Throwing them in the cart, they approached the bread aisle, where radiation contamination could easily infiltrate the plastic package. They ignored that aisle.
Then they approached the most important aisle of all.
Batteries.
Everyone was buying batteries then. You just never know when those pesky Soviets might send a few atomic bombs to the good ol' US of A and then where would the Hummels be? Would their money and ration books be good then?
Burt and Kurt joined the throngs of people buying all kinds of sizes of batteries, including the larger, industrial size. No one could argue that this wasn't important and Kurt was able to read the letters of batteries on the boxes.
Finally content with their shopping necessities, they decided to splurge. The dark-haired interloper watched them look over bananas, some grapes, even arugula. Kurt even managed a smile and the stranger watched them. Or, rather, he watched Burt. He knew Burt was a physically imposing man. Then again, so was he. And he saw the two bulges in that man's pockets. The interloper licked his lips.
The Hummels were just about done. Kurt was glancing at a newspaper. He saw how beautiful Marilyn Monroe truly was. Burt was behind him, a proud papa smile on his face.
They approached the counter.
Kurt began placing groceries on the conveyor belt.
Burt reached into his pocket.
And in an instant, Burt was on the floor, crying out!
Kurt whirled around and was instantly knocked to the floor!
His world was a blur suddenly. From his angle, Kurt could see the shopping aisles and the bright lights. He dimly heard someone scream and didn't know who. He turned around and saw someone on the floor near him. This boy was blurry yet somehow familiar – dark hair, blue jeans, t-shirt, Pall Malls in his rolled-up shirt. And then Kurt blinked.
"Anderson!" Kurt exclaimed.
Blaine stared at the boy, wide-eyed. And yet, despite the sudden confusion, Blaine watched this kid who he only vaguely knew. There was a sudden stoppage of time that only certain conditions produce and somewhere in the back of his brain, Blaine knew he should leave. But he didn't. Instead, he stared into the unfocused eyes of Kurt Hummel, eyes as blue as the ocean, as azure as the sky, and as honest as any Picasso painting ever could be. Blaine froze in that time and space, as if he had all the time in the world. There was something instantly magnetic about Kurt's vague eyes and the smaller boy just stared at this Anderson kid, not quite sure how he felt.
"Hey!" Burt yelled, trying to get up. "Give that back!"
Reality snapped and Blaine looked at his hand. For all his dumb luck, he had snatched Burt's ration pack and not that thick wallet. With one quick and longing look to Kurt Hummel, Blaine hurled the pack at the Hummel patriarch, gathered himself up, and ran from the store.
"Police! Police!" People screamed.
But Kurt was still on the floor. He knew he'd seen that Anderson boy before and everyone had seen the Hummels. And yet, somehow, someway, there was something so familiar about that little thief, the one who wanted Burt's wallet so, so badly. Kurt even considered why the boy wanted the wallet BEFORE he was concerned for his own dad.
Kurt thought the boy was desperate.
Scared.
Honest.
Beauti-
Kurt wiggled his head and immediately stood up, guided by his father's strong arm. Burt snatched the ration pack off the floor and stared at the door, where Blaine had already escaped.
"Damn punk!" he exclaimed.
But Kurt simply stared off into the distance, convinced that that troublesome Anderson boy would have to pay for what he did.
.
AN: So, What did you guys think? More to come soon. If you have questions I'll try my best answer them. Again thanks for the support! Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3