In My Veins

Shine

"Hey, kid," Burt said with a smile, when Kurt walked through the front door after school that day. "Happy Birthday."

Kurt smiled back. He hadn't had the best day, what with the incident with Blaine and all, but he still smiled, because his dad was sitting there at the kitchen table, a box wrapped in spotted, brightly coloured paper set down in front of him. Next to the box, was a store bought cake with candles shaped in the numbers '1' and '8' on top. He had gone to such effort, the least Kurt could do was show some gratitude.

"Thanks, dad," Kurt said, grinning and going to sit down at the table, too.

"Open it," Burt smiled, pushing the box towards his son.

Kurt ripped at the paper, until it was gone entirely and a brown, cardboard box was revealed. He pulled it open at the top and looked inside.

"Dad," Kurt gasped as he reached inside to lift out the black, shining ankle boots. They were Vivienne Westwood and had three round, golden buttons on the sides, which showed the Vivienne Westwood logo. They smelled like rubber and play dough. "Dad, these are.. this is amazing! Thank you so much!" Kurt flung his arms around his father, who hugged him back, chuckling a little.

"You're welcome," Burt said, as they drew away from one another. "I remembered you liked them that time we went shopping, but the assistant said they only had one pair left in a small size."

Kurt remembered that day, too. She had gone on to inform him that they were ladies' shoes anyway, her nose raised in the air.

"They.. they cost a lot, dad," Kurt said, studying the shoes. "You didn't have to."

"Hey," Burt said. "It's not every day your son becomes a man."

Kurt returned his father's smile and he felt grateful. His dad was always there for him, always accepting and willing to learn. A lot of kids didn't have that. Blaine didn't have that. Kurt was lucky.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here this morning, Kurt," Burt said. "I had to get to the garage early."

"It's okay, dad."

"But, hey," Burt smiled, looking right at Kurt. "At least you weren't alone."

Kurt stopped still.

"Wh-what?"

"I know, Kurt."

Kurt's heart sank. He was going to get a lecture now. A very awkward lecture.

"Look, Kurt, is this kid taking advantage of you?"

"What? Dad, no, we both—"

"Listen, kid," Burt went on and Kurt was sure he was the colour of a tomato now. He could feel the heat pressing against his cheeks and up the back of his neck. "I know you've got a good heart, that you can't help it, that you like helping people," he continued. "But you can't just let him think he can keep going out and getting drunk because you're going to let him stay over."

Oh.

Burt didn't know.

Kurt felt relief running through his veins. He let his shoulders slump a little.

"Oh, I know, dad," he said, hoping he looked composed enough. "It's not like that, though. He's not so bad, just—going through a lot. I figured he could use some kindness."

"Well, if you're sure he's not using you.. Hey, where'd you get that?" Burt enquired, pointing at the silver bracelet still around Kurt's wrist.

"Oh! Um, Mercedes," he said, quickly. "It's got a song lyric on it, from the song Rachel and I sang at glee. See?" He held it up for Burt to see. Burt squinted.