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One
He really had known since Kurt was three.
Actually, he’d had a suspicion in the back of his mind before that, when Kurt seemed more interested in using his toy cars to ferry stuffed animals wearing carefully arranged scarves to “pretty parties” than in crashing them violently together like other boys. And then there had been the whole ‘sensible shoes’ thing.
But three was the age when he accepted it. Because that was when he’d looked at his small son, in tears because he’d been pushed over at nursery (crying not through pain, but because he’d got grass stains on his new pants) and a voice in his head said “My kid is a fairy”
And then Kurt looked up at him, cheeks wet, blue eyes so much like his mother’s, and Burt bent down and picked him up, feeling small, trusting arms around his neck as he murmured soothing nonsense, and he told the voice in his head “Yeah, my kid is a fairy. And if anyone gives him shit for it – including me – I’ll beat them bloody with my tyre iron”
Two
Burt doesn’t even know the guy really. He’s seen him around town, bumped into him at a bar once on one of his rare evenings out with Mitch and nearly agreed to a game of pool before he noticed the time and realised that if he didn’t hustle home he was going to be too late to tuck Kurt in. The other guy had smelled like he’d had a few more than Burt’s usual two beers but hey, it had been Friday evening. Maybe the guy’d had a tough week and started winding down early. Burt didn’t judge.
He does judge a bit when someone has an odour of liquor around them when they come into his garage at 11am on a Tuesday, though he struggles not too. He’s got a vague feeling the guy’s some kind of musician so maybe he had a gig last night. It’s just that… he’s got his kid with him.
The guy’s got his kid with him and the little fella doesn’t look that much older than Kurt – maybe seven? And seven isn’t any age to have your dad drunk or hung-over or whatever around you, especially when something about this guy – what is his name? Isaac? Ian? – Well, something about him says he’s a mean drunk.
So Burt listens while the guy talks about the strange rattling noise his truck’s been making and how it isn’t starting up right in the mornings and all the time he’s got a little thread of awareness focused on the kid, who’s not doing much, just looking around like he’s interested but a bit shy about showing it. And then comes the moment he must have been subconsciously waiting for.
The kid shuffles forward and puts out a finger to prod at the tyre of the car jacked up on hydraulics beside them and drunk guy – without even looking, just on automatic – pulls his hand back, obviously going to backhand the kid around the head. The kid flinches like he’s used to it but the blow doesn’t land because Burt got there first.
He smiles down at the little guy and suggests that if he goes over to the waiting room there might be some old comics and if he checks the small fridge there’s definitely some juice boxes. They’re Kurt’s, but he knows his son won’t mind.
Once the kid scampers off Burt turns back to the piece of shit whose wrist he’s still got in a painfully strong grip and he says coldly “A man who’s drunk at eleven in the morning’s a pretty sorry example. A man who’ll hit a kid just for showing a bit of curiosity isn’t any sort of man, sorry or not.”
And the bastard blusters and hisses that it’s none of Burt’s damn business but he just gives an extra squeeze of his hand and listens to the guy gasp. Burt thinks again of how automatic the little kid’s flinch had been, how those wary dark eyes had flicked over to the useless drunk in front of him all the time and then the guy whimpers as Burt feels bones grate together under his hand and he has to force himself to let go.
There’s fear in the guy’s eyes now as he rubs his wrist and Burt curls his lip. Good. He says low “I don’t think I want your custom, friend. Try another garage. And if I even suspect you of taking your frustrations out on your little boy again, you’re going to find out exactly how small this town is and how it don’t have that many places to hide”
That gets him a strange look; angry and fearful and almost lost. But the guy doesn’t say anything. Just shouts for his boy and after the kid climbs into the cab they leave, and yeah – Burt can tell from the sound that’s a duff carburettor. Maybe some loose piston heads as well. He feels a bit bad about having the kid ride off in the piece of junk.
That bad feeling gets worse a couple of weeks later when Burt hears through the scuttlebutt at the bar that the Isaac guy has skipped town; run off out on his wife and kid (kids apparently. Seems there’s a baby girl as well). Burt hopes he didn’t have anything to do with that – he doesn’t want to be the reason someone lost a parent.
But maybe the kid’s going to be better off without a drunk knocking him around. Anyway, Burt hopes the little guy’ll be ok.
Three
It’s tax season so Burt’s accountant and friend Pete is round, and they’re having a beer in the living room and checking over this year’s submission.
Burt gets up to fetch them another and, while he’s up, call down to Kurt to turn that damn pop music down a bit. Burt can recognise Brittany Spears’ voice from up here and he really wishes he couldn’t.
Pete thanks him absently for the drink when he sits back down and shuffles through the papers on the coffee table. “Well, I think that’s pretty much all sorted; it’s been fairly easy this year. The one last question I had was about your write-offs for charitable donations. You’ve got the usual ones for the two cancer charities and the Red Cross but there’re these new ones? $10,000 each to the ‘Trevor Project’ and the ‘National Youth Advocacy Coalition’? What’re they?”
Burt straightens up very slightly but he answers calmly enough “They’re both charities for gay teenagers. One’s a crisis hotline and the other’s a rights group”
Pete doesn’t say anything for a long moment and Burt tenses up. None of his pals have ever said anything directly to him about Kurt but he doesn’t hang around with idiots and they must know. And Pete’s been his accountant for 10 years and his friend even longer but if the guy says anything negative right now Burt’s gonna…
But Pete just says “Well, that’ll be easy enough to classify” and makes a couple of notes. Then he reaches out for his beer but before he takes a drink he meets Burt’s eyes and says quietly “They sound like really worthwhile things to support, Burt”
Burt relaxes back into the sofa and takes a swig from his own bottle. Well. That’s ok then.
Four
Burt likes Lima, but sometimes it’s good to be in a bigger, more cosmopolitan city.
Somewhere he can find things that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get in Lima.
He’s in Chicago for business and a five minutes on the motel internet gets him directions to a bookshop called Unabridged a couple of blocks from the shore of Lake Michigan. It looks a nice place when he wanders in – neat and cosy, a few people randomly browsing the shelves. Burt doesn’t even know where to start looking so he’s glad when one of the assistants, a young, short guy with bright blue hair and an alarming number of piercings, comes up to him and asks if he needs any help.
“Ah, yeah – if you could. You got any books about gay teens? Like, for young guys – kinda like… technical manuals I suppose”
Because Burt knows his strengths; and even though he’s totally fine with who Kurt is, Burt is really, really not ready to give a gay version of ‘The Talk’ and he’s had a sneaking suspicion recently that his son is getting interested in someone (not Finn, thank god. They seem to be settling into a brotherly role quite well).
The assistant gives him a look and curls his lip before saying in a cold voice “If you’re after books about how to pick up twinks then you’ve come to the wrong store I’m afraid, sir”
That makes Burt blink for a second – twinks? Are they like small twinkies or something? – and then he gets what the guy means and he feels his face flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. He growls “I’m trying to find some good books for my son, you moron! He’s just come out recently and I want to get him some things to help him out!”
The guy looks shocked and then upset and contrite. He flaps and says in a rush “Oh my god! I’m really so sorry – really, man! I just… you’ve got that whole trucker-bear-daddy thing going on and I assumed… I’m SO sorry! Here, come with me; I’ll show you our LGBT section”
But Burt’s worried now, so when they get over to the right section he interrupts the guy as he’s trying to point out good books in a flustered way and asks, low “Is that… is my Kurt likely to get guys my age going after him?! ‘Cos I’m concerned enough about those high school punk kids he’s been hanging around with – do I need to be looking out for that as well?” He sees red for a moment “Any old pervert touches my boy I’ll reach down his throat and rip his balls out from the inside!”
The lady a few shelves down gives him a scared look and backs away but the blue haired kid rushes to reassure him “No! No, don’t worry. That really doesn’t happen – you need to have a real vulnerable air to attract the wrong sort. I’m sure your son will be fine!”
Burt ends up spending nearly $200 dollars in the store; getting some non-fiction guides (which Burt had flicked through to find they were uncomfortably comprehensive and which he’s never looking at again) and a collection of essays, some gay teenage fiction, a book on Vogue fashion through the decades (he knows his kid) and, because he’s still a little anxious, a self defence guide.
The assistant’s hand lingers over the last one before he put it in the bag and he looks up at Burt nervously through his lashes “You know, I meant it when I said your boy probably wouldn’t have any problems? Especially with someone like you being all protective of him. I really wish… Well, it just would be nice if all dad’s with gay sons were as caring and cool as you”
The kid says the last bit in a rush, a blush staining his cheeks, and Burt recalls what he’d said about being vulnerable and how defensive and hostile he’d been at the start. He checks the kid out again and sees the attitude and the bright hair and the metal in his face for what they partly are – armour. He feels like he wants to give the kid a hug or something but he can hardly to that to a complete stranger so instead he says gently “Yeah, I know Kurt’s going to be fine. You know” he adds “You’ve got a nice store here, good people in it. I’ll maybe bring my boy in if we’re ever in town again”
He gives the kid a smile and gets a bright grin in return as he leaves. Whatever the guy’s had to deal with in his life he seems ok now and yeah – Burt thinks Kurt would like this shop, and the folk that run it.
…and one time he stood back and let Mohawk kid be the awesome one.
Burt offered to chaperone the Homecoming dance without Kurt’s knowledge.
Partly because although he loves his kid like crazy he’s still a parent with the natural inbuilt evil streak that goes with that and he enjoys the look of horror on his son’s face when he spots him standing behind the punchbowl with his arms crossed, but mostly because, while he’s promised Carole he won’t interfere and he tries not to, he’s not blind or deaf and he’s definitely not stupid and he knows that not all of McKinley High is as cool about his boy and his first boyfriend as Kurt’s friends are.
He’s heard the conversations Kurt’s had with that Jones girl that break off when Burt comes into the room, and he’s seen how pissed off Finn and the jock boyfriend are some days when they all come back from school – the same days when Kurt comes home in different clothes from the ones he set out in, funnily enough.
And though Kurt had put forward the idea of the whole glee club going stag together rather than in pairs as dates as a fun idea to help out the couple of kids who weren’t dating at the moment, Burt knows that they’re all doing it because they think it’ll be safer not to draw attention to one particular couple in the group. It makes him very proud of Kurt’s friends and very angry at their school both at the same time.
So he’s here as a bit of backup, but after shooting Kurt one bland look and then trying to hide his grin at the narrow-eyed glare that tells him he’s going to be bitched out about this later he doesn’t hover around, just leans back against the wall and keeps an eye on the lay of the land.
Seems he wasn’t needed after all, though. Because Kurt and his friends are clustered round their table, laughing and joking together and there isn’t a smidgen of trouble the whole night.
The one time something does look hinky – when two big guys who look like they play sports start toward the table, nasty smirks on their faces – Burt barely has time to take a step before Kurt’s boyfriend has spotted them and gives them such a glare that they seem to change their minds and swerve off in another direction instead. Kurt had been too busy chatting to some blonde girl to even notice, and just looked up with a brilliant smile when his boyfriend slung a possessive arm around his shoulder.
Burt’s unwillingly impressed. Mohawk kid doesn’t speak up much in Burt’s presence and tends to talk to his shoes, but the look he shot the two jocks just then was so stone-cold-killer that even Burt thought he might think twice about tangling with him. (And he does know the kid’s name and he knows he hasn’t got that stupid haircut anymore, but the guy acts like he’s got ‘punk ass’ tattooed on his soul and he’s always going to be Mohawk to Burt)
He’s still pondering his son’s dating choices when the slow dance music comes on and most of the glee table gives the lie to the whole ‘we’re all just a big group of friends’ thing by emptying out onto the dancefloor – Finn with that Berry girl he’s dating, that Artie kid whirling round with an Asian girl dressed all in black on his lap, Mercedes with a tall, lanky Asian guy and a couple of the others that Burt didn’t know getting up to dance as well.
Burt can see the wistful look on Kurt’s face from here and for a brief second it makes him want to punch someone, possibly this whole town, in the face. But then Mohawk gets up and solemnly offers Kurt his hand; ignoring the stunned look on his face and pulling him out into the middle of the floor before pulling him close and smiling softly down at him as he started them off into a fairly competent waltz.
Burt’s still not sure if he likes Mohawk kid, and if he ever hurts Kurt then Burt’s going to make him wish his granddaddy hadn’t been born, but Burt can see the shining look of complete happiness on his son’s face as he slowly moves round the dancefloor in Mohawk’s arms so, for now – as long as he keeps making Kurt happy – Burt will tolerate him.
Though if Burt ever has to walk in on them practising things out of those books he got Kurt he doesn’t care how happy they make Kurt; Mohawk’s gonna be loosing his family jewels.