AN: Set shortly after the events of "Furt" this story might be a bit silly but my muse wanted to write it. Inspired by lyrics from "Last Train Home" by Lostprophets
"It's nice to have him home for the weekend," Burt commented, talking about his son. Outside thunder sounded outside, cutting through the steady sound of the rain. "Maybe if I hadn't missed all the signs I wouldn't have had to send him away to keep him safe."
"Stop blaming yourself, it won't help," his new wife told him softly as Burt sat down on the bed. "Kurt was trying to protect you from what was going on by hiding it but you know now and you're taking the necessary step to protect him."
Burt glanced over his shoulder at Carole who was already under the blankets. "You've been great about all this. It sure isn't how I wanted our marriage to start out."
"I'm in it for the good and the bad," Carole told him. "I don't regret a thing."
Burt smiled before leaning down for a kiss. He then turned off the light and climbed into the bed beside his wife, pulling her close as the storm still raged outside. It wasn't long though before they heard footsteps out in the hallway.
"Everything okay," Burt called out, not sure which one of their sons were up and about.
"Yeah. I just can't sleep," came Kurt's reply to the inquiry.
Sitting up in the bed, Burt turned the lamp back on. His son was now standing in the doorway, leaning against the door jam. Kurt's face was pale, and his arms were crossed protectively around himself. The weight he had loss was so evident to him now that Burt wondered how he had missed it.
"What's wrong?" Burt asked, not missing Kurt's reaction to a clap of thunder outside. It was clear to Burt that something about the storm was upsetting Kurt tonight. Somehow he didn't think it was a simple as an oak tree tonight.
Kurt shrugged, either not wanting to answer or unable to explain it.
"The thunder reminding you of slamming lockers?" Carole asked softly, remembering Kurt's words in the principal office.
Kurt nodded.
Burt glanced at his wife, silently asking Carole's permission to the suggestion he wanted to make. Carole nodded, her eyes full of sympathy.
"Want to sleep in here tonight?" Burt asked.
It was clear that Kurt wanted to but was reluctant to. "I'm seventeen years old. I shouldn't be running to my father because of some storm."
"Most seventeen year olds don't have to deal with death threats either," Burt replied, holding his hand out to his son.
Kurt gave in to his desire and fell into his father's arm. Burt hugged him briefly before Kurt climbed into the bed between his father and step mother.
"You were saying?" Burt said, looking into Carole's eyes.
"I still mean it," Carole replied, letting her gaze drift to her stepson, whose eyes had already closed. They may have been facing sorrow now, but there was always tomorrow.