Burt looks at the table once more, double checking to make sure everything is positioned perfectly (silverware on the right side of the plate; napkins folded nicely like that one time Kurt showed him and then rolled his eyes when Burt couldn't do it properly for at least four or five attempts; steaming pile of pancakes in the center of the table with that sugar free syrup crap next to it, looking a little gross and not at all inviting) before smiling to himself. Part of him is glad that Finn's over at Puck's, and that Carole's dead to the world upstairs in their bed. He wants this morning to just be him and Kurt.

He reaches out to the kitchen counter and unfolds the NY Times he'd gone out to get that morning, special, just for Kurt. He places it over Kurt's plate, headline face up. He wants everything to be perfect when Kurt finds out, this is one of those moments he'll be able to look back fondly on in ten years time, when Kurt's living in New York and married (MARRIED!) with kids of his own, and when his grand children ask Kurt where he was when he heard the news, Kurt will think back and remember breakfast with his dad.

Burt grins to himself before calling upstairs: "Kurt, get your butt down here! Breakfast is getting cold!"

He hears some grumbling and a "it's Saturday, dad! Why'd you wake me up?" but then he hears the floorboards creaking and he knows his son is finally getting out of bed.

"Hurry up, Kurt. The pancakes are getting cold!" Burt looks at the stairs and then back at the breakfast table. Everything looks perfect.

Then the front door slams and Burt hears Finn call out: "I brought Puck back for breakfast, hope there's enough!" And Burt's heart slams. It's not that he doesn't love Finn but this was going to be his moment with his son, not a family (and Puck) moment.

"Mmm, smells good Mr. H," Puck says, walking into the kitchen with Finn trailing behind him. "Pancakes!"

Burt sighs. "Not yet! Wait until Kurt gets down here."

Finn looks at the table and then at Burt and actually *whines*. "But they look so good! Why do we have to wait?"

"Finn," Burt says, steel in his voice. "This is a special breakfast and we are going to wait for Kurt, alright?"

"It's not your birthday, is it?" Finn looks at Burt nervously, "because if it is Kurt totally didn't warn me and I kinda didn't get you a present." He looks at Burt a little sheepishly.

"No, no." Burt shakes his head. "Nothing like that."

"Okay," Finn says morosely, sitting down at the table and staring at the pancakes. He stares for a few seconds before screaming: "KURT! Pancakes!" as loudly as he can.

Burt jumps in shock before taking a deep breath and letting it out, slowly. The creaking of the floorboards is louder, though, and Burt is silently thankful that Finn has such little tact. He's anxious and he really can't wait until Kurt sees the headline of the paper. His baby can get married! MARRIED! It feels kind of surreal, if Burt's honest about it.

Finally Burt hears the clump, clump, clump of Kurt walking down the stairs. He looks at the table once more, making sure everything's in place. He looks at Puck and Finn and stares at them each for a few seconds, trying to tell them telepathically that they'd better be cool this morning or else.

"Morning dad," Kurt mumbles sleepily.

"Morning, Kurt." Burt says, trying his hardest to keep a grin off his face.

"Hummel," Puck says, almost respectfully and Burt pauses at that. It's early, not even 10 am and it's Saturday. He looks at Puck and Finn and wonders why they're even up, let alone at home when they could be laying in bed playing video games at Puck's.

Kurt waves his hand in greeting, not even coherent enough to say more, before sitting down at the table. He's in the middle of reaching for the pancakes when he actually looks down at this plate and sees the newspaper spread out in front of him. His hand drops to the table before he reaches back to the paper and picks it up, flicks it back to stabilize it, and stares at it some more.

Then he looks at his dad, eyes wide with shock. "It's legal," he whispers, almost as if he was scared to say it out loud, scared to tempt fate. "It's legal!" He shouts it this time, looking at his dad and the paper, back and forth and back and forth.

Burt smiles widely. "It's legal!" He says this nearly as joyfully as Kurt has said it. He's happy for Kurt, happy that he'll be able to get married in the city he's dreamed of living in all his life.

Kurt is looking at the paper, reading it to himself, bouncing in his seat, when Burt looks at Finn and Puck. He isn't sure what to expect but out of every scenario that's passed through his head in the few minutes since they walked through the door, this definitely wasn't it. Puck is grinning nearly as widely as Kurt and Finn is practically beaming, he's so happy. Burt stops wondering why they're up so early because it's obvious-they already knew about it and they wanted to see Kurt's reaction.

Damn but he got lucky when he met Carole. Finn's a boy anybody would be proud to call son and Puck, for all that he was a punk bully for awhile, clearly he's grown up some.

"Congrats, Hummel." Puck says, smiling still. "Glad you can get your gay ass hitched."

Finn groans and leans back to slap Puck lightly on the arm. "Dude, remember, we talked about being nice."

Puck looks at Finn and shakes his head: "Dude, I'm totally being nice. Right Hummel?" Puck looks at Kurt for validation but Kurt's busy looking at the table in front of him, the napkins and the silverware and the pancakes and the sugar free syrup and suddenly he's standing up and pulling Burt into a tight hug.

"Thanks, dad."

Burt blushes a little before smiling at his son. "I'm so happy for you, kiddo." Burt reaches out with a hand and messes up Kurt's hair a little.

Kurt almost presses into the touch, hugging Burt tighter and tighter. Eventually Kurt lets go and steps over to the pantry. "We're celebrating this morning," Kurt announces needlessly, but then he opens the pantry and moves a few boxes around before pulling a container of syrup out. "I think this calls for the real deal."

Burt looks at his son and the syrup in his hands. Real syrup, with real sugar. His son must be fucking ecstatic.