And the Kurt and Santana Parts

Carol leaned back against the cupboard, all too aware of her position as the step mother. An integral part of the Hudmels, as the she'd heard the Glee kids calling them, but too new an addition to the Hummels to step into the argument exploding between father and son in the kitchen as more than a referee. Even poor little Blaine had more of a part in this than she did.

Blaine was watching Burt like a train wreck. A train wreck about to happen. To him.

He gulped as Burt turned toward him, apoplectic with rage.

"Did you know about this?"

Blaine froze, eyes as wide as dinner plates, but Kurt somehow managed a rigidly reasonable tone.

"I called him after it happened. He calmed me down and we tried to approach Dave at school the next day."

Burt brought his fist down on the counter so hard the plates in the cupboard rattled. Blaine flinched, Carol covered her mouth. Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, but didn't back down.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Burt demanded.

"Burt-" Carol cut in, trying to bring down the heat a little bit.

"No. No, he gets attacked, assaulted, threatened, and he doesn't tell a teacher, he doesn't tell us, he doesn't-"

"Who was going to take my side?" Kurt spat. "He threatened to kill me and got away with it. The faggot-"

"Don't use that word, Kurt!"

"The faggot tells everyone the jock kissed him. Who was going to listen to me?"

"I would've! You should have told me how bad it wa-"

"YOU HAD JUST COME OUT OF A COMA!" Kurt shrieked.

Every sound in the kitchen stopped except the soft, pervasive "piiiiing" of Kurt's voice ringing in the glass fixtures.

"So I told Blaine. Because no one else would have understood what it meant. No one else would understand what was going on in his head. If I had told anyone else, they would have said something and then who knows how he might have reacted."

"He's right," Blaine managed, voice shaking, "No one else gets it. Wes was with me when I got Kurt's call and even he was trying to get us to go to tell someone else. And if we had Dave might have actually k… done what he threatened."

"Kurt," Carol started, dropping her hand from her mouth and stepping forward into the kitchen a little further, placing herself between Kurt and his father. "That's why we needed to know about-"

"No! He couldn't have handled anyone finding out and-"

"It's not your job to protect him swee-"

"This is why I didn't tell anyone else!" Kurt growled, throwing his arms out in frustration. "None of you understand that this was about protecting myself. No matter what happened it would have be on me. Because I am the only out gay kid at school. This is Ohio. If anyone even believed he kissed me, they would have thought I made him do it. That I'd attacked him somehow. Even if someone had seen him, and outed him, I'd get the blame for making him gay and the football team would have beaten the shit out of me. And these are best case scenarios. We all know what was happening last fall. What's still happening. If Dave Karofsky had swung from a rafter somewhere, the football team would have had me swinging from a tree the next day."

Carol looked down at the floor, it was too much to hear her seventeen year old step son logically laying out the life and death dangers of his attempt to go to high school.

"Kurt," Burt started, his voice hoarse, "That's not… you didn't have to.. someone would've-"

"Umm…. He's right about that too," Blaine said, eyes clenched like he hoped he wasn't talking out loud. "And… you wouldn't have…my friend Taylor and I wound up in the hospital freshman year and the guys that put us there just got community service. 50 hours. Picking up litter. One day's suspension. No one… cares."

Burt stares at Blaine. Kurt clears his throat.

"So I would appreciate it if people would just give the fucking jock some breathing room, because the thing that is actually going to make me safer, is him coming out on his own, so that I'm not the only one at that school. So that the representation of an entire group of society doesn't fall on my shoulders. And the only thing that is ever going to make that school safe for anyone else is if I can get Dave, and maybe the couple other kids who hang around watching me get thrown against lockers to come out. We need numbers to stay out of the line of fire. We need to establish a PFLAG chapter, so that more kids could be educated and more kids could come out. That would be a lot more productive than continuing to have a screaming match in the kitchen over things it's too late to fix."

Kurt had been crying since he'd screamed at his father about his coma, but his voice only broke on that last sentence.

"Blaine."

Blaine jumped at his name.

"Get your keys we're going to go get some air," Kurt said, crossing to the kitchen door and ducking right out of it. Blaine stood and dug his hand in his pocket, freezing as Burt shouted, "Kurt Lars Hummel don't you dare leave this house!"

"Blaine!" Kurt bellowed from the front door.

"Go ahead, sweetheart" Carol said quietly waving Blaine out of the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mr. Hummel," Blaine muttered as he spun and ran for the living room door. He froze before he opened it, tapped his fingers against the frame and turned back around.

"You can't tell Finn about this," he said apologetically, then escaped into the living room.

"Let them go, Burt," Carol says. Burt nods, but turns and kicks the cupboard so hard the molding breaks off the side. He curses and grabs his foot.

"Burt! Relax. Sit down. Stop trying to destroy the kitchen."

"Fuck, that kid pisses me off."

"Of course he does. He's just like you."

"No, he's not. That's the problem. He doesn't tell me shit because I can't understand anything about his life. Christ, Carol, he sat down and figured out the odds of getting hanged at school. Can you even imagine sitting down and thinking that through at his age?"

"He was being figurative."

"Blaine's got a scar on his back bigger than my hands," Burt huffs holding them out thumb to thumb "Didn't sound like Blaine thought he was being figurative." Burt brings his fist down on the table again, nowhere near as hard as he had before. "I can't believe he's kept this a secret for months."

"I can. Burt… Will Shuester said the first thing he said at the hospital was "Is he dead?". He was a ghost when you were… in a coma. He didn't talk. He didn't eat. He barely let anyone talk to him. He sent Mercedes home twice when she came to see him." Carol set her hand over his forearm, "He's probably…bitching to Blaine right now about how you getting this riled up now isn't good for your heart."

"I am his FATHER!" Burt bellowed. "He shouldn't have to protect me!"

"He doesn't know that." Carol said, stroking her hand over Burt's arm as he dropped his face into his hand. "And I think he's right," she said quietly.

"Fine, Carol," Burt growled. "I'll just boil myself some chicken and shuffle around in my slippers and Kurt can run the whole house. There'll be a dress code for dinner by Thursday. Everyone will need to wear a hat designed by Alexander McQueen and knee high boots. And he can run the shop too. He can put sequins on everyone's uniform. The guys'll love that. "

Carol ignored him. "I think he's right about PFLAG. And I think we need to help him set it up. You know what PFLAG is right?"

"Yeah. I looked a bunch of stuff up on the internet when Kurt came out."

"But the nearest chapter's in Dayton," Carol said.

"How did you know that?"

"I looked some stuff up after you proposed," Carol admitted. "Kurt's a great kid, but I knew going into this that he was going to be a little… high maintenance compared to Finn." She and Burt had never talked about Kurt's sexuality in terms of becoming a family. All previous discussions had stalled out around 'Kurt's a great kid'. Carol felt incredibly guilty even mentioning that it had occurred to her having a gay stepson might be hard.

"I think it would help," Carol continued. "Not just Kurt. I think it would help everyone Kurt thinks it would help. I think it would help us. If we had a group it wouldn't always be you versus Figgins to make sure Kurt's safe. You and I could join. Finn. Rachel. Her Dads. I bet we could bring Blaine's parents around. At least Dianne. From what Finn's said we might be able to bring in that Brittany girl that used to be on the Cheerios. At least talk to her. And maybe her parents would join. I hate to say this, but if Puck ever comes back he would join if someone asked him to. He's a delinquent but he's sweet with Kurt and Blaine. Maybe if things went well… Karofsky could come out. Kurt's right. It would give him a place to go. Paul and Cindy might join. That's a community right there."

"I can't believe he didn't tell me," Burt repeated. "God I just… I wish I just had a normal kid."

"Burt!"

"No I mean it. Not… I don't mean straight. Not really. Yeah. Okay. I mean that a little… but just… you know. Actually seventeen. A kid who would need me if he got threatened. Who wasn't so damned… stubborn and independent and sure he could change the world just by yelling at it loud enough."

Carol scooted closer, kissed Burt's cheek and set her head against his shoulder. "He gets all that from you."

Dave felt a little trapped when his mother walked into the kitchen. He'd been spending basically all of the time that he didn't spend with Santana in his room alone lately. Looking at colleges, dissolving into a panic about what might happen if he didn't get in, and then looking at colleges again. Sometimes when he really started to panic, he even looked into transferring schools, then wondered how on earth he could possibly justify transferring to a new school his senior year.

And now he was in his kitchen. Waiting for his noodles to come out of the microwave. Alone in the house with his mother. Alone in the kitchen with his mother. For the first time since he'd told her the truth.

That he wasn't really dating Santana. That he wanted to go to college far away. And that he was gay.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said quietly. Dave nodded at her and she looked at him just a little too long before opening the cupboard and pulling out a mug.

"What are you still doing up?" Dave asked awkwardly.

"Oh. I can't sleep," she sighed. "I know it's silly. I mean most of the year I have no idea where Mark is, but I just have trouble sleeping when you boys aren't back in the house yet." She patted his hand and Dave pulled it back involuntarily. She bit her lip. "It's a mom thing."

She put the kettle on the stove as Dave's noodles beeped. He grabbed the dish and the salt and turned to go upstairs.

"Wait," his mom called. "Come sit with me. Talk to me. Let me make you some tea?"

Dave bit his lip, but nodded. He stepped carefully back into the kitchen, halted and then sat down at the kitchen table. His mom took another mug out of the cupboard and dug out another tea bag.

"So," His mom smiled at him. He gave her a cautious smile back. "So… the play is coming up huh?"

"Yeah. This weekend."

"Well. We'll have to make sure that we get tickets."

"Oh," David flushed. "I don't… I don't know. It's not really Mark's thing."

"Well he can come support his brother. And you're a good singer. Remember all those elementary school choir concerts? You sang in all of those. I don't think I've heard you since your voice changed."

"Mooom," Dave groaned.

"Sorry. Puberty's embarrassing. I forgot." Her smile seemed a little less forced. "So… are things getting better with… umm… that boy. In the play? The one that you… that you upset?"

"Blaine? Blaine's… it's complicated."

"Why?"

"Because he's…" Dave shrugged, hesitant to say this out loud to anyone but Santana. He cleared his throat. "Because he's… Kurt's boyfriend. And he hates me."

"I'm sure he doesn't ha-"

"No. Mom. He does. And it's fine. He deserves to. I get that."

"Now, why would you say something like that?"

"Mom… I just really don't want to talk abou-"

The door bell rang. Dave and his mother exchanged a confused look. It was nearly midnight.

"I'll get it."

Dave pushed his chair back and headed to the front door. No one was on the porch, but when he looked out into the yard he saw a slim figure darting down the walk, the light shining in her black hair.

"Santana?" Dave called. The figure turned around and Dave walked outside. "What are doing here so late?"

"It's… I'm sorry." Her voice sounded raspy and harsh. "I'm sorry, I know it's late. I shouldn't be here, shouldn't've come. This was a mistake."

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. I… I … I can't get you in trouble. Your family… this is suspicious."

"Santana? You're scaring me. Come inside."

"No. I shouldn't. What'll your dad think?"

"He's not home, it's just my mom." He grabbed her hand. "You're shaking. Come on. Come inside."

"Dave?" His mom called from the porch. "Is that Santana? What's going on?"

"Come on. Please. What happened?"

Santana gripped his hand tightly. He could see tears on her cheeks in the moonlight.

"My mom found out," Santana whispered. Dave suddenly noticed the backpack over her shoulder.

"Oh my god. Are you-"

"She kicked me out. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

Dave wrapped his arms around her.

"Dave?" His mom called again, stepping out onto the walk. "Is everything alright?"

"What do you want me to say?" Dave whispered.

"Nothing. Please. Nothing."

"Come inside. You can stay here ."

Santana let Dave go and he pulled out of the hug and grabbed her hand, leading her back up to the steps.

"Oh, sweetheart, are you alright?"

"Umm..hi, Mrs. Karofsky," Santana managed.

"Go up to my room, set your stuff down. I'll be right there," Dave told her quietly. Santana gave his mother a paralyzed sort of look. He set his hands at her waist and sort of scooted her. She looked up at him, looking… young and sweet and scared and not at all like Santana.

"I'll be right there."

Santana cleared her throat and hurried up the stairs.

"David Karofsky, what's going on?" His mother demanded.

"I promised her I wouldn't tell you," Dave said helplessly. "I'm sorry."

"You know, all these secrets are going to make me grey."