Summary: The phone calls had plagued him since middle school; he was used to them. The last thing he expected was for Finn to answer the phone and fight back.
Warnings: Potential violence if there are future chapters; homophobia; language.
Pairings: Brother bonding between Finn and Kurt. No romance, sorry!

Enjoy!

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Please hang up and try again.

Kurt answers the phone with a guarded sense of dread. Around the time when he was thirteen, the calls started. They were few and far between-maybe once every four months-but when they happened, they terrified him. Upon reflection, he realized that they probably happened more frequently than that, only it was his father who answered the phone, not him. And his father would never tell Kurt about them.

Oddly, it wasn't the first time that was the worst, but the second. The first time, it was some kids from his middle school. Probably one of the kids from his biology class, who knew that his dad worked late evenings because he was so frequently partnered with the bullies there. And that sort of thing becomes common knowledge when you constantly have to explain why you can't work on the project, because there will be no adult there to help. When he picked up the phone, he had answered as politely as he could. They called him a faggot, and hung up, laughing.

And it stung. It shook him, right down to the core of his being. It was the first time he had been called that word, and he hadn't anticipated it's powerful effect on him.

The second time was worse, though. It happened five months later, toward the end of the school year. He had almost forgotten about the first call, and when he answered, it was the same polite greeting: Hummel residence, this is Kurt! He liked to try and sound official, like the way his father answered the phone at the shop.

You're a disgraceful mark against God, boy. You'll burn in hell for all eternity for being a damn queer, you hear me? Fucking faggot.

Even years later, he could repeat the call word-for-word. He was only thirteen; he didn't even understand puberty yet, despite his father's halting attempts at explaining it. And here was this phone call, this man who had to be old enough to be a parent, with a voice that deep and commanding. Calling his home and calling him such a vile name. An adult. He was shocked.

He had hung up, and put the phone down. Stepped away. Stepped back, picked up the phone, took out the batteries. He didn't know how else to keep them from calling back; he thought someone was going to try and attack him.

His father had rushed home an hour later after calling the house seven times with no answer. He found Kurt curled in the laundry room, his tears renewed at the sight of his father. He wouldn't say why he was crying, only that someone was mean on the phone. No specifics.

But Burt Hummel knew what had happened.

The older he got, the more frequent the calls. Though still peppered over the course of a few months, they would come with the same viciousness that the second one had had. His father was quick to get him a cell phone, with a number that no one could look up in the phonebook. They hardly used the land line at their house anymore; only for ordering pizza and calling the school during a sick day. The routine was consistent, and easy, and the phone calls stopped bothering Kurt. At least, they carried less weight.

And then Carole and Burt were married, and the Hudsons moved in with the Hummels. Kurt hadn't thought about the calls being a problem, and if Burt had, he didn't say anything about it. They moved to a new house after a month, something bigger and more family-friendly. Kurt missed his basement, but he got a huge room upstairs, with a view of the backyard. And he was content.

Until one night, when Burt and Carole went on a date, leaving Finn and Kurt alone. Finn was eager to play Mario Kart, insisting that Kurt race him. The Soprano had been reluctant until he spotted that Finn had unlocked Rosalina, and he took the controller in a huff.

As it turned out, the game was much easier than Kurt had anticipated. His hands, trained to be so careful when handling delicate buttons and applying face moisturizers, quickly mastered the level of dexterity needed to be good at the game. On top of that, the running commentary between he and Finn constantly left them winded from laughter. It was more bonding time than either had had time to enjoy.

Eventually, though, their stomachs called.

"I'm going to go get something to eat, you hungry?" Finn asked between cups. Kurt glanced at him, shrugging.

"You wanna cut a grapefruit for me?"

Finn laughed. "Dude, you eat so many of those."

"They're good for you," he countered, restraining from mentioning the benefits they had for his skin. He could tone down the gay a bit, since Finn and he had finally found a way to effortlessly bond. He didn't want to ruin it.

"Whatever. I'll be right back."

Finn's steps vanished from the living room into the kitchen. The muted sounds of a fridge opening and someone rummaging around reached back to Kurt's ears, but he thought little of it. The couch was warm and comfortable, and he wasn't yet tired of the repetitive game music. For a brief few moments, he slumped against the cushions with closed eyes. Perfectly, absolutely content.

Then the phone rang.

He didn't think much of it, having gotten used to the little voice that told him to panic. The odds of it being a nasty call were so slim now, what with the merging of his family and Finn's. They could be calling for his father about the shop, it could be Carole's friends, it could be someone trying to reach Finn or him. After all, neither boy had checked their phones in the last hour. Maybe it was Mercedes calling? Kurt wondered for a moment if there was a sale he had forgotten about, and if she was calling to demand his presence at the mall.

"Hello?"

Finn's voice sounded a bit strained, as if he were trying to juggle all that he had taken from the fridge while he spoke.

"... What? Who the fuck is this?"

Kurt's eyelids parted. His head rolled to the side, turning toward the kitchen. A tiny, unmistakable little ember of worry sparked in the pit of his gut.

"Who the hell are you? If you got a problem with it, asshole, then why don't you go leap off a bridge?"

Kurt sat upright. Every word that left Finn's mouth fanned the ember of panic, making it grow bigger and hotter.

"Stop saying that! You don't even know him, you coward!"

"Finn," Kurt blurted, jumping to his feet. The fire took off, flaring up and making his chest feel tight. He was sliding into the kitchen in an instant, his socked feet struggling to find traction. "Finn, just hang up!"

"No," Finn replied stubbornly, glancing at Kurt for only a moment before setting the jar of mustard down hard among the other sandwich ingredients that he had dropped. "Listen, you prick, you're the one with the problem! What, you're so unhappy about your own life that you have to pick on a kid to make you feel better?"

Kurt made a grab for the phone. "Finn, stop it! That won't help!"

The taller male dodged, easily turning away. His forearm held Kurt back, the conviction obvious on his face: after all Kurt's been through, Finn will not sit back and let someone trash him over the phone.

Kurt could hear a very tiny, angry voice over the receiver. "There's the little faggot now! What, he too scared to stand up for himself?"

"Why should he waste his time on your sorry ass?" Finn responded without giving it a second though. "You're pathetic!"

"Finn, hang up now!"

"You just want his whore mouth all to yourself, huh? Disgusting freak, I oughta beat your ass. You think you can protect him forever? You think he's just gonna stroll around bein' a queer and no one will-"

Suddenly, Kurt snagged the phone. Before Finn could fight for it, the shorter male pulled it away and pressed the red End Call button. He took a quick step away from Finn, his eyes wide, almost teary.

For a long second, they stared at each other. Neither knew what to say, or how to say it. Kurt dropped the phone onto the counter like it was poison, turning his head away as the tears began to well upward and sit on his eyelashes, threatening to fall.

"... Has that happened before?" Finn asked suddenly, his voice quiet and full of guarded dread. Kurt blinked rapidly, a few tears sliding away down his cheeks. He was quick to wipe them away.

"It's stupid, they're just stupid. You just hang up, and then that's it. They're stupid."

Finn looked as though he had just witnessed the most disgusting, horrifying thing on earth. Kurt turned away, wiping his eye repeatedly and trying to monitor his breathing. Slowly, the elder started to shake his head.

"No, no fucking way. No one threatens my brother like that. I can't believe it. Why didn't I know that this happens?"

Kurt refused to respond at first, staring sullenly at the loaf of bread on the counter. Then, after a small breath, he leaned against the cabinets and closed his eyes.

"It's been happening since middle school. And-... It's too infrequent to really be a problem."

"Kurt, this is a big problem. Call the police, get them to like, tap your line, or something! They can't get away with that shit!"

"Please calm down," Kurt responded softly. He couldn't make eye contact. After a pause, Finn took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, trying to work the tension out of them. They stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at everything but each other, before the phone rang again. Both jumped, startled and horribly put off by the sound.

Slowly, Kurt reached for it. Finn moved to stop him before Kurt spoke.

"Caller ID says 'Dad'."

It rang twice more before Kurt handed it to Finn, silently telling him that he wasn't able to talk. Finn took it, staring at Kurt as he pressed the green button and lifted it to his ear.

"... Burt?"

"Yeah, hey kiddo. Is Kurt there?"

Finn looked at his step brother for a moment before taking a careful breath. "Uh, no. Well, yeah, but he's in the bathroom."

Kurt closed his eyes, nodding thankfully.

"Well, alright. Just let him know that your mother and I had to change our plans. They were sold out for the eight o'clock show, so we'll be going to the nine-thirty. Will you guys be alright for the night?"

Finn rolled his lips together, pressing them into a line before relaxing them. "Yeah, that's fine. We're just playing Mario."

"Oh, really? I thought Kurt didn't like video games."

"He's good at it," Finn replied absently, watching as Kurt pushed off the counter and stepped toward the fruit bowl by the fridge. He picked up a grapefruit and turned in search of a knife.

"Well, I'm glad. We'll see you when we get back."

"Okay. Enjoy the movie."

Quietly, Finn hung up. The little beep that signified the end of the call hung in the air between them for a good few seconds, heavy and painful, before Finn sighed.

"You gotta tell your dad."

Kurt nodded quietly, cutting into the pink fruit. "Yeah. I don't know how they got our new number..."

Finn just shook his head, finally calm enough to be rational about it. "It doesn't matter. We'll just... be super careful in the future. About answering the phone."

Kurt glanced up at him, giving him a small smile. He was half-way into the grapefruit before he stopped, his eyes dropping again. Finn stood, uncomfortable but unwilling to move, as Kurt sighed and pulled the knife from his unfinished job.

"... Actually, I think I'm going to go to bed."

Finn nodded, even though Kurt wasn't looking at him. He set the knife down and pulled open a nearby drawer, drawing out some clear-plastic wrap and wrapping the fruit like a mummy with it. He circled the island counter, put the fruit in the fridge, and looked up at Finn.

"... Thanks for standing up for me," he muttered, looking toward Finn with grateful eyes. The taller teen shook his head.

"Not a problem. At all."

Kurt just smiled a bit wider, suddenly looking tired. "... Well, alright. I'll see you in the morning then."

"Right."

And with that, Kurt left the kitchen. Finn listened to his socked footsteps until he couldn't hear them anymore. The silence was punctuated by one last noise as Kurt's bedroom door closed upstairs, and Finn was left in the total silence of the kitchen.

"... Cheesus."

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Please review! Depending on the feedback, there may be another chapter or too. I have more of a plot in mind, but only if you guys actually care to read it! So let me know what you think!