Hello everyone!

Thank you so much for the positive reviews! It really means so much to me. Please continue to let me know how I'm doing. This is my first fanfic, and I would love to know what I can do to improve my writing.

Also, I realize that at the beginning of Chapter 3, I wrote "Darren" instead of "Blaine". I'm new to , so I couldn't figure out how to go back and change it, but please know that I am aware of the mistake. I guess I get the line between CrissColfer and Klaine blurred a little bit sometimes ;)

Anyway, keep on reading and I hope that you enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 4

"So, how was school today?" Kurt's father, Burt, asked in between spoonfuls of lasagna. He had labored in the kitchen for several hours, wanting everything to be perfect for his wife for when she and her son, Finn, returned home from the airport. Carole had gone on a trip to Colorado to attend some seminars on creating your own business. She and six of her friends she was still in touch with from college were aspiring to open a small line of makeup, perfumes, and lotions.

"It was okay, like usual," Finn replied, scooping a second helping of lasagna onto his plate. "And, like usual, I have a ton of homework."

"And, like usual, I assume you won't be doing it?" Carole asked her son, raising her eyebrows. The four of them laughed, especially Kurt, who had just taken a sip of water and nearly spit it out onto the table. One of his flaws was nervous laughter. It didn't matter how stupid or unfunny a joke was, if he was nervous, he wouldn't stop laughing. His dad knew him too well, and unfortunately picked up on this. "Everything okay, Kurt? Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah, school was okay," Kurt answered a little bit too quickly. Kurt looked down at his salad bowl and stabbed a piece of lettuce, doing everything in his power to avoid his father's omniscient glare. "What?" he asked defensively. Now, Finn and Carole were staring at him, too. Why couldn't everyone just let him be and replay this afternoon in his head over and over and over again, without any interruptions? He shoveled another forkful of salad into his mouth, quickly chewing. The faster dinner was over, the faster he could get back to texting Blaine, who he had been holding a conversation with ever since he had left the bookstore.

"Nothing," Burt responded, taking a long sip of wine. "It's just that you're acting kind of funny. Jittery, anxious."

"I'm not nervous." Cue nervous laughter. Shit. Shit! Kurt took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "I'm not nervous at all," he repeated. "I'm just on a caffeine high. I went to the bookstore after school to do some studying, and well, you know they have that new café and I guess I drank a little too much coffee!"

"Damn, Kurt. Are you sure it was coffee?" Finn asked.

Kurt cast his stepbrother a long glare, knowing that his "angry face" wasn't exactly intimidating, but he wasn't really in the mood to be made fun of.

"Finn, don't use that language, especially at the dinner table," mumbled Carole, pouring herself a glass of wine and refilling her husband's.

"Sorry." Finn didn't look very sorry as he continued shoveling more pasta into his mouth, continuing to eye Kurt. Finn definitely knew something was up, and would stop at nothing to find out.

"Can I be excused?" Kurt blurted out, dropping his fork, cringing at the clattering noise it made as it struck his plate, which was still full of food. When the nerves set it, Kurt didn't eat. He physically couldn't eat.

"Do you feel okay?" Carole asked, genuinely concerned.

"No, not really." It was the first honest thing Kurt had said all night. He stood up, and carried his plate over to the sink. "I'm just tired." His truthful streak was over. "I'm gonna go to bed early tonight. Good night." He scampered up the stairs, and it wasn't long before he heard a loud pair of footsteps behind him. Kurt quickened his pace and finally reached his bedroom, his safety net. Slamming the door, hoping it would emit a sense of finality, he scrambled to get his phone out the pocket of his tight jeans. One unread message. His heart fluttered as his fingers skillfully opened the message and his eyes scanned the small, black words. Smiling to himself, he flopped onto his bed and typed out a reply. That's when he heard the knock on the door.

"Uhhhh, come in," Kurt said reluctantly, praying it wasn't Finn.

The door swung open. "Can we talk, Kurt?"

"I mean, there's nothing really to talk about, but sure, we can talk, Dad."

"Are you being bullied again?"

Kurt was taken aback. His father was usually pretty sensitive about his past and would never bring it up out of the blue like that. "No, no, no, that's not it at all," Kurt insisted. "It's actually quite the opposite."

"What do you mean?" Burt asked, sitting down in the chair at Kurt's desk. He looked at the piles and piles of sheet music that had been strewn carelessly over the small table. He thumbed through them, stopping at one piece and commenting, "Rihanna?"

"Yes, Dad. Contrary to popular belief, show choirs don't always just do musicals and Broadway numbers. We like top 40 hits as much as anyone else," Kurt said, semi-annoyed.

"I know, it's just funny to me. I don't know, when I think 'glee club', I just think of people dancing around like they're on Broadway, not like they're in a pop star's music video."

Kurt managed to laugh, rolling his eyes. "You're so old fashioned."

Burt laughed, setting the music back on the desk. "Anyway, Kurt, can you tell me what's going on? Why are you so upset if nothing's wrong?"

"I'm not upset, I promise," Kurt assured him, tossing his phone up and down, wanting his dad to leave so he could get back to his conversation with Blaine.

"Well, I just want to be sure. You were acting very funny at dinner." Burt eyed Kurt's cell phone. "Can you put your phone down and talk to me, please?"

Kurt reluctantly set his phone on his nightstand, facing his father, but he kept glancing over at it, praying that the screen would light up with a text message.

"It's a boy, isn't it?" Kurt's eyes widened and he jumped. "What?"

"It's a boy, isn't it?" Burt's dad repeated patiently. "You're all fidgety, you can't stop looking at your phone…" His voice quietly trailed off as he waited for an answer.

"How did you know?" Kurt finally exclaimed, sincerely surprised.

"I'm your father, Kurt. Sometimes, I just know things, whether you believe that or not." Burt broke into a lopsided smile and walked over to his son, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You know you can talk to me about this kind of stuff. As awkward as it may be, I'm always willing to listen."

Kurt nodded, looking down at his shoes, crossing and uncrossing his legs uncomfortably. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the little "new message" icon blinking on the screen of his screen. He figured that in order for his dad to go away so he could get back to texting, he was going to have to offer up at least a few details. "I met him at the book store," Kurt recalled breathlessly. "He's really cute. And he's actually gay."

"Well, that's a good start," Burt said, laughing. "Tell me more."

"He's a closet gay. I saw him in the self-help section, looking for books about coming out. And I told him that I would be more helpful than a book would be."

Burt was completely silent, his mouth open, staring at his son. Kurt blinked rapidly. "Say something," he murmured, growing nervous for no specific reason. Suddenly, Burt exploded into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, bending over and holding his stomach. "Jesus Christ, Kurt, please tell me you didn't really say that!"

"But I did!" Kurt wailed, a feeling of embarrassment growing. He could feel it in his cheeks. He shrugged off his jacket; it was suddenly getting really hot in his room. "What's wrong with that?" That comment only made his dad laugh harder. "Dad, stop!" Kurt insisted, growing more and more insecure.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I really am," Burt chuckled, desperately trying to regain his composure. When he finally got himself under control, he uttered, "It's just so damn cheesy!" And then he broke out into another agonizing round of laughter. Rolling his eyes, Kurt jumped up from the bed and yanked on his dad's arm, pulling him towards the doorway. "Well, if you're going to continue to laugh at me, can you do it in the hallway? I have a cute boy to text."

"All right, all right," Burt said, still giggling like a schoolgirl. "Can I tell Carole and Finn?"

"Absolutely not!" Kurt exclaimed, appalled. "You can't tell anyone, especially not Carole or Finn!"

"Okay, okay, I won't!" Burt promised, shutting the door behind him. Kurt could hear his father's laughter all the way down the hall.

Kurt knew that his dad was joking, but he was starting to think that his "pick up line" was a little bit desperate. And a lot humiliating. But Blaine seemed to be impressed, or, more realistically, at least not think too much about it. He turned his attention back to his cell phone.

His heart was literally melting. Blaine was one of those people that used a smiley face in almost every message. Normally, that sort of thing both annoyed and distracted Kurt, but when an attractive boy was doing it, it was a major turn on. Kurt hoped that he didn't text everyone like that.

They had been playing the question game. They now knew each other's favorite color, animal, movie, actor, TV show, song, band, music genre, restaurant, food, and any other insignificant question people always want to know about each other. Figuring this text was just another question similar to the rest, he wasn't a complete wreck as he waited for the message to open. But this text was different. Kurt had to read it five, six, seven times to make sure that he was reading it correctly, He let the words sink in, absorbing the implications that it may bring. "Would you want to go out to dinner Friday night?" Typing back an enthusiastic "yes", Kurt felt an overwhelming sensation creeping into his stomach. It wasn't exactly butterflies, but it wasn't a complete sense of tranquility, either. It was kind of like a mixture of both. He was excited, but uneasy.

There was just that lingering question of "what if this is all a joke"? But, surely, Blaine wouldn't have asked Kurt out if he truly didn't want to? Blaine didn't seem like that kind of guy. But Kurt had been played so often in the past; it was hard not to be cynical.

However, as apprehensive as he felt, the feeling of pure anticipation and optimism pervaded throughout him, canceling out his insecurities.