I realize this has already been jossed as Kurt's birthday was visible on the NYADA application in 3x07. I say whatever. It was lazy of them to give him Chris Colfer's birthday anyway. :P (It also said he was born in 1993, which would make him eighteen on the show now and 19 when he graduates in June. That only makes sense if he failed a grade and come on, he's Kurt Hummel.)

This story is finished (it's about 13k words in total) and I will be posting the next three parts as quickly as I can edit them. It's basically drunken shenanigans and some smut. Happy Holidays!

I don't have anything to do with Glee. Title comes from 'Let's Start the New Year Right' by Bing Crosby. Feedback would be much appreciated. :)

xxx

How Can Our Love Go Wrong When We Start the New Year Right

~Prologue: Wherein Burt Hummel is a sucker for fond memories and his late wife's eyes~

Kurt Hummel was Lima Memorial's New Year's baby in 1994, born just one minute after midnight, bright red and shrieking like the mythological banshee.

Many things had changed in the almost eighteen years that had since passed, while others resembled those first moments of his young life in almost startling familiarity. As Burt Hummel watched his son pitch a fit in front of the family Christmas tree, face flushed and his voice rising in octave the more upset he became, the memory of that first amazing, ear piercing moment slammed into him like a freight train.

"Kurt, calm down," he said. "There's no need to get so worked up."

"I just want to have a party, Dad! I'm turning eighteen! And I've always been responsible so I don't see why you automatically say no! Do you not realize how many times Finn and I could have had a party during the campaign? And we never did!"

"I do know that, Kurt. And Carole and me, we're real appreciative of that, believe me. But don't pretend that you weren't up to any other funny business while we were out of town."

Kurt looked mortified, his eyes round as saucers. "So that's what this is about?"

"No, kiddo, it's not. I'm just not real comfortable with the thought of a whole bunch of underage kids getting drunk in my house." Kurt opened his mouth to protest but Burt held up a hand to silence him. "Don't go sayin' that nobody's gonna be drinking, Kurt. We both know that isn't true and you and me, we're past the point in our relationship where we lie to each other."

"Fine, there will probably be drinking. But Finn and Blaine and I will make sure no one drives or destroys the house and it won't even be that many people, Dad. I haven't had a single drink since that time in sophomore year, besides yesterday when I accidentally took a sip of Carole's spiked egg nog. I just want one night -"

"Kurt-"

"Dad, it's my birthday."

It's the eyes that get him. They're big and round and innocent and just the colour his mother's had been, so clear and bright as she looked up from their new baby wailing away in her arms. Look, Burt, he has so much hair! It's always the eyes that get him - $300 designer sweaters, impractical knee high boots, vintage bowties off eBay, show tickets, new furniture, Lincoln Navigators for sixteenth birthdays.

Burt took off his cap and rubbed a hand over his head. Kurt had his hands clasped together and his lips pursed to hide the smile that was threatening to break through. He knew that he had won.