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Kurt slid the remaining box onto the pile already pushed against the wall. There were about two dozen or so, most of them with water worn bottoms, rotting and falling apart. His father’s basement had flooded over the summer, and Kurt had promised to bring Blaine and the kids out to help clean up the damage, but between all the busy rehearsal schedules for Kurt’s play, vacation days Blaine had available, and the girls’ summer activities, they weren’t able to make it out to Ohio until Labor Day Weekend.
“Papa, are we done yet?” Twelve-year-old Tracy asked, her brown eyes wide with hope.
The girls had been pretty good about moving all the damaged boxes upstairs until the last hour or when Carole had decided she needed to start dinner, Burt needed a break so to not push his bad back, and Blaine became distracted watching the Ohio State football game with Burt. The girls had lost their motivation, 14-year-old Katie becoming wrapped up in her phone while Tracy’s curiosity was getting the best of her, opening the boxes, leaving Kurt to bring up the last few.
“For now,” Kurt replied, crossing his arms over his chest. His own back had begun to hurt, getting old was not something he embraced willingly, and he knew he’d be sore the next day, but they still had a lot of work ahead of them. “But tomorrow we’ll still need clean out the basement properly. It’ll be a good excuse to rip up that hideous carpet.”
“Hey now, don’t complain about the carpet,” Burt replied. He and Blaine may have been perched on the edge of the couch, invested in the game, but not enough to miss Kurt’s high, condescending eyebrow. “You’re the one who insisted we get ‘70s shag.”
“Well, you could have tried a little harder to talk me out of it,” Kurt replied.
Burt let out a laugh and took a swig of his beer. “Right, and tell you no when it came to the decor? You used to bite my head off about that stuff. And it’s not like I knew anything anyway.”
Kurt shook his head as he walked towards the couch, along the way nearly tripping over Katie, who’s texting was so important that she parked herself squarely in the middle of the walkway.
“Katie, do you think you can move it to the chair so people can get through?” Kurt asked.
“Just a second,” Katie grumbled, fingers flying as she finished her text. She shot Kurt a scowl as she relocated to the lounge chair.
Kurt sat on the couch’s arm rest next to Blaine. “Oh, right, I should know better than to interrupt very important business.”
“Miranda is texting her right now to confirm that the current boy in question, Jeremy, really likes her and not other girl named Samantha,” Blaine recited, eyes fixed on the game as he spoke. “Apparently, Jeremy is really cute, and she’s hoping that he’ll ask her to the Homecoming dance.”
“Dad, god,” Kate squealed, her face turning red as she burrowed down into the lounge chair. “I don’t want to discuss it in front of everyone.”
“Katie’s got a boyfriend, Katie’s got a boyfriend,” Tracy sang, looking over Katie’s shoulder as she texted. Katie swatted at her to go away.
Blaine gave Kurt a knowing grin and reached for the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “It’s very high drama,” he said munching on a handful all at once.
“Tracy, leave your sister alone,” Kurt called out halfheartedly. Tracy pouted for a moment, but then became distracted by looking through the boxes again.
There was a whistle, followed by a lot of noise coming from the TV, and suddenly Burt and Blaine were both yelling.
“Damn quarterback,” Burt cried, his hand outstretched towards the screen.
“C’mon, he had plenty of time to throw the ball.” Blaine agreed.
“If this is how they’re going to start the season, then why do I even bother,” Burt reached for the remote mute the announcer’s voice. “They should have never put that guy on first string.”
Kurt looked down at them fondly. It wasn’t a trip to the Hummel’s without his father and his husband bonding over their love (and frustration) of Ohio State. If only he had his fashion magazine and a cup of tea, he’d be content, but the ones he brought were upstairs, and he was too tired to get them. Besides, he should make an effort to help Carole in the kitchen.
Before he could move, though, Blaine wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled Kurt down to sit on his lap. Kurt went easily. A few minutes of relaxation wasn’t going to kill him, he thought as he settled onto Blaine’s lap, laying his head on Blaine’s shoulder.
“Maybe we can go to get ice cream after dinner,” Blaine suggested, as he gently began to rub Kurt’s back in slow circles. “That place down on Maple street was always good.”
“You just like that place because in high school, one of the girls there had a crush on you and made sure you got extra sprinkles,” Kurt teased.
Blaine gave a shrug. “Extra sprinkles, Kurt.”
“You know after thirty years she probably doesn’t work there anymore, right?”
“Or maybe she owns the place, and I’ll get all the free sprinkles I want.”
“God, you’re hopeless.”
“Sorry to break it to you guys,” Burt said, “but that place shut down about six months ago. Something about a rat infestation.”
“Noo!” Katie let out a groan from her chair.
“I didn’t realize you were so invested in ice cream,” Blaine joked.
Katie shot him a dirty look. “No, god, Jeremy is going to Samantha’s party tonight. And I can’t go because I’m stuck with you people.”
“Well, don’t forget that we’re stuck here with you, too,” Kurt shot back. He and Blaine shared a look. Teenagers.
“This is the lamest weekend ever,” Katie complained. “What’s in those boxes that’s even worth saving anyway?”
“Costumes!” Tracy cried, pulling out a long, orange yellow, and pink feather boa. She had already managed to rummage through three of the boxes, disappointed at only finding books and papers until she hit the jackpot at the end of the row. Happy with her discovery, she wrapped the feather boa around her neck like a scarf, and began pulling more things out.
“Oh, my god,” Kurt said, stunned to see the accessory pulled right out of his past.
“Looks like she found one of Kurt’s old high school boxes,” Burt said, leaning back on the couch with a laugh.
“Hey, look, something I can use for one of my jazz dance routines,” she said, referring to a black sparkly glove that she wasted no time putting on. “Is there another one in here somewhere. Wait, what’s this?” She pulled out a sleek, black leotard.
Kurt’s eyes bulged when he saw it. “Oh, god, Tracy, I don’t think you need to go through that box any more.”
Katie burst out laughing. “Please tell me you never actually wore that.”
“Yes, I did for, um, performances,” Kurt replied sharply.
Blaine gave him a playful frown. “Really, Kurt? I don’t ever remember seeing you perform in that.”
“Hush.” Kurt snapped.
“Hey, look, a tape,” Tracy said, pulling out a small box. “What’s Single Ladies?”
“Oh, no,” All the color drained from Kurt’s face. Of all the things to unearth from his past, that was the last thing he had expected. Burt began to laugh.
Katie got up from her chair to inspect the tape. “It’s Beyonce. Really, Papa? That’s so retro.”
“I wanna watch it,” Tracy demanded.
“Me, too,” Katie agreed.
“No, guys,” Kurt tried, knowing that there was a good chance he would lose the battle. “I don’t think we need to see what’s on that tape. Blaine, help me out.”
But looking to his husband for back-up proved fruitless. “Well, I haven’t seen it either. I’ve only heard stories.”
“How did you—”
“Tina.”
“Of course.”
The discussion was cut short by Tracy, already on her feet again, racing to get the tape to show up on the TV. It wasn’t long before the video was playing.
“I can’t watch this,” Kurt said, burying his head into Blaine’s shoulder as the first, familiar notes began to play.
Burt continued to laugh. “Call it cosmic retribution, kid.”
Within seconds, Tracy and Katie were giggling at the sight of their Papa, years younger, pretending he was the star of his very own music video.
“Aww, Kurt, you were so cute,” Blaine cooed.
“Suck up,” Kurt muttered into his shoulder.
“What are you even wearing?” Katie commented.
“Hey, that’s Aunt Tina,” Tracy said, pointing at the screen. “That’s so cool that she did this with you.” Kurt picked his head up long enough to see his youngest daughter dancing with the music, attempting to mime the moves on the video. It was endearing enough to risk noticing his younger self on screen.
“And Brittany, too,” Blaine commented with interest. “Oh, was this during your experiment with heterosexuality?”
“Obviously, not, Blaine,” Kurt said, looking up to watch his younger self sweep his hair off his forehead. “That came later.”
“Oh, man, I remember that,” Burt said, his head thrown back in laughter. “This stuff, this was what was normal,” he pointed at the TV set. “I may not have gotten it, but Kurt, you were always up to something. That day, though, when I came home to you dressed in plaid and making out with a cheerleader? That was surreal, I tell ya.”
“You dated a cheerleader?” Katie asked, completely unimpressed. “That’s lame.”
“Did you know your Papa was a cheerleader for a little while?” Blaine informed her.
“Don’t say that like you weren’t one, too,” Kurt reminded him.
“For, like, a day,” Blaine shot back. “And I was undercover.”
“You guys are both lame,” Katie said rolling her eyes.
“I think we need to watch that again,” Tracy said, hitting the play button again the second the video stopped. The video started up again, and Tracy was again dancing with it, catching the moves quicker, and not doing so bad following it.
“Dad, you still totally do that finger wiggle,” Katie said, loving the video as much as her sister. “Trace, remember when we were younger and we were doing something wrong, he would just come into the room and do that finger wiggle at us?” In a perfect imitation of her father, Katie walked forward, one arm over the other, hip jutted out, with a scowl, then proceeded to wiggle her finger at her parents.
Neither Burt or Blaine could hide their amusement, trying hard not to laugh too hard as Katie walked away, sashaying her hips exactly how Kurt did.
As the video ended a second time, Tracy came bouncing up to them. “Papa, that was fun,” she said. She took the feather boa of her and put it around Kurt’s neck.
Kurt gave her a smile, and pulled her in for a hug. “Well, I’m glad someone got some enjoyment out of that.”
“Do you think my dance teacher would let me do that song for my recital?” Tracy asked, eager at the prospect. “It would be really fun.”
“We can definitely ask her,” Kurt said.
“Papa can help you,” Blaine agreed. “Your father knows how to really work his hips.”
“EWWWW,” Katie gave them the most disgusted look.
Kurt gave him a long look.
“What?” Blaine said with a shrug, pretending not to get it. “You know how to thrust and—”
“EWWWW,” Katie cried, still horrified.
“Blaine—” Kurt covered his mouth with one finger to silence him.
“What’d I say,” Burt said, loving every second. “Cosmic retribution.”
“You’re lucky we don’t have the time you did the Single Ladies dance on tape,” Kurt reminded him. “Now that would be something to laugh about.”
“You say that like I didn’t have fun trying,” Burt said with a grin.
Just then, Carole stuck her head into the living room. “C’mon, guys, dinner’s almost ready, and I need some help setting the table.”
“Let’s go, girls,” Burt said, pushing himself off the couch. “Your grandma needs your help.”
“Can we watch the video again after dinner?” Tracy asked.
“Do you have any other videos of Papa as a kid?” Katie asked. “I so want to see some more.”
“I’m sure we’ve got some old videos somewhere,” Burt said. “But we’ll look for them after dinner, okay?”
Happy in their agreement, the three of them entered the kitchen, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone on the couch.
Kurt spared a look at the TV screen, where his younger self was frozen in motion. He had forgotten what he had used to look like, rounder face, flat hair cut, a layer of baby fat still waiting to be shed. He had been away from that boy for so long, he had almost forgotten what it used to be like. But he smiled fondly, recalling what it felt like to be that young boy, and grateful his life had moved in such a positive direction after that point.
From where he sat, he could hear Carole singing a show tune, Tracy’s untrained voice singing along with her. There was a clatter of dishes, and Burt’s relaxed laughter. That was his family, that was his life. Imperfect, but all his.
“What are you thinking?” Blaine asked curiously, caressing his arm.
“Nothing,” Kurt replied. “Just that I’m happy with what we have.”
“Me, too.”
“C’mon, let’s go help,” Kurt said, pushing off Blaine’s lap.
As they made their way to the kitchen, Blaine stopped at the box, and bent down to retrieve the leotard. “Still think you can fit into this?” he asked, his eyes wide and flirty, a grin mischievously sliding across his face.
“I’ll fit into that if you can still fit into your old Nightbird costume.”
Blaine’s face lit up. “Mmmm, Nightbird.”
Kurt gave him a smug look. “And, if it doesn’t, at least we still have the feather boa.” He unwrapped the boa from his neck and flung it around Blaine’s. With a quick tug, he pulled Blaine closer to him.
Blaine rested his hands lightly on Kurt’s hips. “So, how ‘bout a Single Ladies encore tonight when we’re alone?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“How about tonight we exchange back massages and go to bed early, and save the reclaiming of our youth for our anniversary?”
“Done.”
Kurt laughed heartily. “Oh, I love you.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you put a ring on it then, huh?” Blaine delighted by his own joke.
“You’re such a dork.” Another sharp tug, and Kurt drew Blaine in for a kiss.
“God, stop being gross,” Kate said, her head sticking out of the doorway leading to the kitchen. She had the same disgusted look she had on earlier. “Grandma said dinner was ready.”
With a smile, Kurt laced his hand in Blaine’s and followed their daughter into the kitchen.