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1. Tracy
Tracy loves her dads. She really does. She loves their appreciation for music and dance, and the appreciation of those arts that they passed onto her.
But Tracy has a huge math test tomorrow, and she loves their appreciation of music and dance a little bit less when she’s trying to study in the silence of her own room, only to be disturbed by extremely loud music and a few intermittent thumps from her parents’ room above her.
It’s not unusual for Pops to be blasting some music and dancing around his room while folding laundry, but it’s at an extremely inconvenient time for her, and she knows her father will understand if she asks him to turn the music down and put a pause on the fancy moves. School comes first.
Grabbing her phone, she calls Pops first, but he uncharacteristically doesn’t answer. Frowning, she then calls Dad, because maybe Pops’ ringer is off. Or maybe it’s Dad who’s the one dancing around to music. That’s not a stretch either.
When Dad’s phone goes to voicemail too, Tracy sighs annoyedly, reluctantly getting up from her desk chair and walking upstairs, where she knocks on her parents’ door and waits for a response.
None.
The music is still playing, and the occasional thumps are still sounding, and Tracy is up to her ears in calculus study guides. She’s given up.
Pushing open the door, Tracy expects to find one or both of her fathers in the midst of some ridiculous yet oddly smooth improv dance routine, but unfortunately, she comes face-to-well, posterior , with her Dad’s incredibly pale back (seriously, when’s the last time he got some sun?)... and behind.
Three matching gasps of surprise sound in unison, and Kurt frantically attempts to pull blankets over him and Blaine, but it’s too late. Tracy already saw that her dad is sitting in her pops’ lap, very, very naked.
“Oh my god,” is all she can manage, but she seems to be doing better than her parents, one of whom is gaping at her like a fish and the other just simply has a hand over his eyes, head back on the pillow as if he’s sleeping and this is all a bad dream he can wake up from.
“Turn off your music. It’s too loud,” Tracy demands. “I have a math test to study for and it’s driving me crazy... but now at least I have some motivation to try and erase this memory from my brain by drowning it in calc.”
Even derivatives sound better than standing there for one second longer.
2. Audrey
Slinging off her dance bag from her shoulder, Audrey strips out of her sweaty dance clothes and throws them in the hamper, grabbing her robe and walking into the jack-and-jill bathroom she shares with Tracy.
Hearing the shower running, she sighs, knowing her older sister’s tendency to take hour-long hot showers.
“Trace? How long until you’re done?”
“Just got in like five minutes ago. Sorry!”
Audrey immediately slips on her robe, grabbing a towel and washcloth from her towel rack and her shower products from her shelf. “It’s alright, I just want to take one right away since I’m gross from dance. I’ll head upstairs to the guest bathroom.”
“Okay! Thanks!”
Before she heads upstairs, Audrey grabs her Bluetooth speaker and pages through her playlists on her phone as she climbs the stairs, so invested in deciding between good shower songs to play that she doesn’t notice the faint sound of running water echoing from the guest bathroom.
It doesn’t hit her until she’s fully in the bathroom, the sticky heat from a hot shower surrounding her. Looking up from her phone confusedly, she reflexively looks to the shower and notices through the steamed-up glass not one, but two figures.
The horror only truly sets in when she realizes that one of the distorted human-shaped blobs is very obviously on their knees.
“OH MY GOD!” She squeals, practically dropping her armful of bath supplies as she bolts out of the room, muffled sounds of a bottle or two being knocked to the shower floor and frantic cursing sounding from the bathroom behind her.
Audrey sprints towards the staircase, but suddenly stops before she heads down a floor. Wait. Why aren’t Dad and Pops in their own bathroom?
The disgust turns to misplaced anger, and Audrey turns on her heel and marches right back into that bathroom, eyes squeezed shut as she pushes the door open again.
“Why the hell are you two not in your own shower?” She screeches.
“Language,” Blaine chastises half-heartedly as Kurt launches into an explanation.
“Our shower head broke and we needed a shower so we decided to use the one people never use.”
“First of all, I don’t even want to know why you both needed a shower in the first place, and secondly, I use this bathroom whenever Tracy takes one of her marathon showers. Like she’s doing right now.”
“We will remember that next time,” Blaine remarks softly, just barely audible over the still running water of the shower. That both of her dads are still in. And are apparently already planning a next time.
“Why am I still here?” Audrey wonders aloud, finally walking out for good and shutting the door behind her, making a beeline for the boys’ bathroom and not even explaining to Dalton why she is using theirs when she breezes through his room to get to it.
3. Finn
Soccer practice ran unfortunately long today, and although he could easily take public transport home, his dads had texted him an hour ago that they were in the area grocery shopping and that they would pick him up.
That was an hour ago. When his practice was supposed to end.
He’s not worried about what his parents will say about waiting for him that long; he knows they’ll be fine with it. He’s just more worried about the groceries they bought — it’s one of those random warm September evenings, and if they bought ice cream or other frozen foods, they might’ve melted.
Seeing the back of his dad’s car from the field, Finn makes a beeline for it, exhausted and hungry and ready to go home. He heads for one of the back doors, knowing that since both of his dads tagged along to get him, he’d be temporarily exiled to the backseat.
When he reaches the car, he swings the door open, and just as he’s about to throw his soccer bag across the back bench seat, he’s stopped by two surprised squeals and the unforgettable (in the absolute worst possible way) sight of his fathers tangled up together in the back of the car.
On the seat where he’s going to have to ride home.
“Uh-uh, nope,” Finn shakes his head and turns in the direction of the trunk, opening it and throwing his bag in, hopefully giving his dads enough time to adjust themselves into a presentable condition.
He rounds the back of the car hesitantly, continuing forward only when he sees both of his parents standing outside of the car, trying to discreetly tuck in or re-button various items of clothing.
“I wasn’t that late,” Finn comments. “Good god.”
“We were bored?” Blaine offers with much less shame than Finn expected him to.
Finn shudders. “Gross. Pops, you’re riding in the backseat. I can’t sit back there until you deep clean it.”
“Fair enough,” Blaine sighs, sliding into the back.
“If you think the back seat is bad, don’t think about the front,” Kurt mutters, obviously more than a little disgruntled with the interruption that was totally not Finn’s fault.
“Oh my god. I’m just going to walk home.”
4. Dalton
Family movie nights are a sacred tradition in the Anderson-Hummel household, and they are not to be missed. Every Friday night, the six of them gather in their family room under fluffy blankets and among bowls of popcorn, switching out each week who gets to pick the movie.
This week, it’s Dad’s turn, and he chose The Sound of Music. While every single Anderson-Hummel has a deep love and appreciation for the movie, they’ve all seen it hundreds of times. Maybe thousands.
Thus, it’s not a huge surprise when Audrey starts to doze off, curled up in an armchair across the room. It’s late and it’s been a long week, so no one bothers her when she finally falls asleep.
Finn’s quick to follow, soccer practice from a few hours prior thoroughly exhausting him, and he passes out on the floor of the family room covered in a fluffy blanket.
Tracy’s eyes start to droop when Maria is taking the Von Trapp kids out in their curtain-clothes, and by the time Captain Von Trapp returns, she’s out like a light next to Dalton on the couch.
Only Dad and Pops are fully invested anymore, happily snuggled up under their favorite blanket on their designated movie night couch.
Dalton tries to maintain focus, because he really, truly likes this movie, but the stress and exhaustion of the week wash over him in a slow, rolling wave, and he soon follows his siblings in sleep.
“Shh, shh, be quiet.”
“I am being quiet! God —“
“I’m flattered, but we’re married. You can just call me Blaine.”
“Stop teas — Blaine —“
Dalton’s eyes slowly flutter open to the darkness, only the faint light of the menu screen of the movie illuminating the room. He’s barely awake; it’s now fully dark outside, and he nearly falls back into sleep until he hears the voices that woke him in the first place.
“But the kids — ah — the kids, Blaine —“
“Are all asleep. Now be quiet, or you’re going to wake them.”
The soft smacking sounds of kissing suddenly fills the otherwise silent room, and Dalton squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to fall asleep again simply to avoid what is quickly becoming one of the most mortifying moments of his life.
The harder Dalton attempts to fall back to sleep, the louder the sounds of rustling fabric and hitched breaths become, and it’s almost too much to bear. The fight or flight reflex is running wild in him, and he’s ready to bolt out of this room.
“Come on, baby,” Dalton hears his Pops breathe out, and if he wasn’t so laser-focused trying to make as little noise as possible, Dalton would’ve plugged his ears from the moment he stirred awake.
“Almost there,” Dad pants, and oh god, this is one of the worst moments of Dalton’s young life.
Dalton frantically starts singing a mashup of whatever Sound of Music songs pop into his head, desperately trying to make the volume of the imagined music drown out the sounds his parents are making just one couch over.
There’s a strangled, muffled sound that suddenly comes from the direction of his dads, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what just happened.
“Haven’t done anything that risky in awhile,” Blaine whispers, and Kurt laughs breathily.
“We definitely haven’t.”
“You bit my hand. It hurt.”
“Deal with it. Unless you wanted me to wake all of the kids up by moaning, your hand was getting bitten. You put it over my mouth anyway,” Kurt hisses.
“Yeah, because I know you. And you get loud, babe.”
There’s a pause. Then, “Let’s go to bed.”
There’s some quiet scrambling as the two of them dart upstairs, leaving what they think are four sleeping children in the family room.
Dalton finally opens his eyes again, staring at the ceiling in regret. Of what? He doesn’t know exactly, but he regrets the last ten minutes of his life deeply.
5. All of them
“Finn, pour two glasses of orange juice, please,” Tracy instructs quietly, spooning the eggs onto smaller plates and setting two slices of bacon next to them.
“Got it,” he replies, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and carefully setting them on the matching trays, filling them up.
“Pancakes are ready for the plates!” Audrey calls, careful not to make too much noise and accidentally wake their sleeping fathers. It’s Father’s Day, and the four of them conspired to wake up early and make them breakfast in bed.
Dalton hands two large plates to Audrey, who gently flips the pancakes onto them. Dalton immediately sets them in the center of the trays, putting the little gravy boats of maple syrup next to the plates.
“I think we’re ready!” Tracy grins, picking up one tray as Audrey turns off the stove. “Can someone else grab the other one, and the other two grab their gifts and cards?”
“I’ll get the gifts,” Finn answers, retrieving the two boxes from under the TV stand. Dalton picks up the other tray as Audrey takes their cards, and the four of them gently climb the stairs, careful not to make a sound.
Audrey steps in front of them when they reach Kurt and Blaine’s bedroom door, using her free hand to open it wide for all of them to walk in together.
“Surprise! Happy —“ the words die on their tongues almost in unison, nearly just as fast as the apparently very sexy Father’s Day mood is killed between the two husbands.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Blaine groans, hugging Kurt to him as if he’s using him as a human blanket. “No. No. No.”
“Um,” Kurt clears his throat, looking as composed as a man could be when laying naked atop his husband in front of all of his children. “Could you all give us a minute, please? We’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
“If that’s any sooner than two hours, I refuse to come back in,” Audrey comments, and Finn snorts. Meanwhile, Tracy and Dalton just silently lead the group out, all four of them standing dumbfounded outside of their parents’ door.
A little over five minutes later, Kurt pokes his head out of the door, looking the epitome of sheepish. “We’re ready, guys. Thanks for waiting.”
Only because they woke up so early and spend way too much time on perfecting their fathers’ breakfast do they re-enter that room, now finding both of their dads fully clothed and sitting up in bed, just close enough that their shoulders are touching. They look like the perfect picture of put-together, except for the fact that both of them are blushing vermillion.
“Uh, surprise? Happy Father’s Day?” the kids try again, and both Blaine and Kurt make an exaggerated show of delight at their preparations.
Never again. Never again will they try to make their fathers breakfast in bed, because, unknowingly, they will always beat them to it.
+1. Dalton and Sawyer
Dalton’s laying next to his boyfriend on a too-small beach towel, unabashedly admiring his shirtless form. He’s tan and blond and smiling that million-watt grin, making him match any California surfer boy fantasy Dalton could ever want to imagine.
Two years ago, Dalton would’ve been afraid to look at his best friend for too long, for fear of being caught staring when they were supposed to be straight and just friends. Now, they’ve been dating for over a year, and Sawyer has been allowed — no, welcomed — to come along on the annual Anderson-Hummel beach trip.
“What?” Sawyer asks, tracing a hand idly down Dalton’s side. “See something you like?”
“Maybe,” Dalton hums, shifting closer to capture Sawyer’s lips with his, feeling his taller, broader boyfriend pull him over towards him.
“You look so hot, Sawyer,” Dalton breathes between kisses. “So hot. I can’t even handle it.”
Sawyer breaks another kiss and raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure you can’t handle it?”
“Well,” Dalton smirks, leaning in to his boyfriend’s ear. “Maybe I could handle it somewhere a little more private.”
“I like how you think, AnderHummel,” Sawyer grins. “Think they’ll miss us for a bit?”
Dalton looks to where Finn and Audrey are playing frisbee, and where Tracy is laid out reading a book. “Nah. Hey, where even are my parents?”
Tracy glances back at them. “They left a while ago. Something about finding food?”
Dalton shrugs. “Works for me. C’mon, Sawyer.”
“Make sure you re-make the bed,” Tracy comments flippantly, making both boys flush bright red as they gather their things, fast-walking in the direction of their hotel. Thankfully, they’re staying at a beachfront resort, so the hotel is only a short distance away.
Sawyer grabs Dalton’s hand, pulling him into the elevator with visible excitement. It’s only after they punch in their floor number that they realize they’re alone in the elevator, and that realization alone is enough to have them immediately back in each other’s arms.
The elevator lets out a warning ding just before the door opens on floor seven and the two boys stumble out of the elevator onto an empty floor, considering it’s two in the afternoon on a beautiful sunny day at the beach. Sawyer hastily presses another kiss to Dalton’s mouth as they giggle all the way to their hotel room.
When they arrive at the door, Dalton smirks devilishly and pins his boyfriend against it, finding Sawyer’s lips with his own once again, throwing as much passion and desire into the kiss as he can manage.
“Key card,” Sawyer gasps out, fumbling to get into his pockets, a nearly impossible task with how close they’re pressed together.
“Back pocket,” Dalton murmurs, making his way down his boyfriend’s neck.
Sawyer reaches into Dalton’s right back pocket and comes up victorious, practically slamming the card against the reader until it lights up green and they hear the blessed click of the door unlocking.
Dalton wiggles his hand between them and pushes down on the door handle, swinging the door open and twirling them into the room.
“Bed, now,” Sawyer demands, pushing Dalton back towards the bedroom, and it’s only a few more feet before they hit the bedroom door, and then just a few feet more until they hit the bed...
As soon as they get the door to the bedroom open while still managing to make out heavily, there’s a startled scream that echoes from the other bed in the room.
For better or for worse, because they’re so wrapped up in each other, it takes Dalton and Sawyer a few moments to adjust to what just happened, meaning that Kurt and Blaine had just enough time to cover themselves with the blankets from their bed.
“This isn’t happening,” Dalton groans, and Sawyer lets out a small, embarrassed whimper, looking anywhere but Kurt and Blaine and seeming as if he wants to simply sink into the floor and never come back.
“Well,” Blaine clears his throat. “Would you two mind leaving so we can get dressed?”
“Of course,” Sawyer stammers, dragging Dalton behind him.
“Too many times,” Dalton sighs, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Too many times.”
“What?”
“That’s the third time I’ve walked in on my dads. I don’t even know how one person could be so unlucky.”
The door to the bedroom opens a minute later, and suddenly Kurt and Blaine are standing in front of the two boys as they sit on the couch.
“You boys are being safe, correct?” Kurt asks firmly, as if he wasn’t the one who just got caught having sex.
“Yes,” Dalton mumbles, and Sawyer shakes his head emphatically.
“Good. Uh,” Kurt glances over at Blaine. “The room is yours now, I guess.”
“Thanks?” Dalton replies as his parents simply leave the hotel room, and although the mood is entirely killed, that could’ve gone a lot worse than it did.