Sexting For Dummies

Basically, why you should never sext on a phone your dad uses. Someone in the glee_fluff_meme wanted a story wherein "Burt accidentally intercepts one of Puck's raunchy sexts to Kurt." This was originally a standalone piece, but then people kind of wanted a sequel to this, which explains the following chapter.

I hope you like this!

Burt walked into the cool, air conditioned kitchen, sighing with relief as he fixed himself a cup of orange juice. Summertime in Lima wasn't usually this intense-he found it completely possible that he'd gotten a second-degree sunburn on the back of his neck down to his pant-line, just from mowing the lawn. He'd have to ask Kurt for some of that cool healing gel stuff. He'd probably get an earful for not wearing sunscreen, but he'd suffer through it to get rid of the feeling that he was a slab of steak sizzling on a grill.

As he took a long drag from his glass, he took a quick glance over at the oven clock, only to nearly choke in shock. That couldn't be right-was it really that late?

He cursed as he slammed the empty cup down onto the counter; he was due to the garage in ten minutes, and as much as he loved his job, he really wanted to shower before heading in. Sure, being a mechanic wasn't a job that focused on the merits of cleanliness, but Burt was a man who firmly believed in physical presentation.

It'd probably take him fifteen, twenty minutes to hop through the shower, so he'd probably only be thirty minutes late. Burt sighed, wincing at the pull of his tightened, irritated skin. He needed to give Al a ring, let him know he'd be in soon.

"Kurt!" He called, walking into the silent living room. Burt rolled his eyes when he heard the faint rumbles of bass beneath his bare feet. Of course, the boy would be blasting his Beyoncé shit by now. He padded over to the basement door, picking up a warped metal coat hanger on his way. Without a second thought, he jimmied the door till its lock clicked open.

Sure, having a lock only to pick it might defeat its purpose, but whatever. He'd seen Kurt's tiara collection-there weren't many other things that could shock him (at least, nothing he'd want to think of). He took the steps two at a time, stumbling and cursing when he nearly missed one of the last ones and fell flat on his face. The sunburn smarted, and he grumbled as he stomped the rest of the way into the basement.

He slapped the radio off with more force than necessary, but Kurt gave him the briefest of glances before going back to…whatever it was he was doing to his poor fingernails. "Trip over those stairs again, Tonks?"

"What?" Burt asked.

"Nothing-Harry Potter reference," He said with a faint smirk. Burt opened his mouth to ask what a tonks was, but quickly decided against it. He was going to be late as it is-if he gave Kurt an opening, the kid could gab for hours.

"I need to borrow your cell."

Kurt rolled his eyes but handed over the weird contraption that didn't look anything like a phone. After a few moments of struggling to figure out how the stupid thing worked, Kurt huffed and snatched it back, pressing the screen a few times before passing it back to his father. "I swear-! Why don't you just buy yourself a nice, outdated Samsung flip-phone? It'd be much easier on the both of us, dad. I think you and your tech-phobia are the cause of half my breakouts."

Burt stuck his tongue out at his boy as he waited for Al to pick up. He almost dropped the three hundred-dollar phone when it vibrated against his ear. Kurt was completely oblivious as Burt pulled the iPhone away from his ear so he could look at the glowing screen.

Mhm nd u woud be on top. I kno u lik 2 ride me (;

Id need to fingerfuk u first tho. Ur always so-


Kurt jumped in shock, and glared at his flailing father as he pressed a tissue to the nick on his cuticle. "Dad, what are you spasming over? Did Alan accidentally-wait, reading? What…" His face lost all traces of color and his mouth gaped open. "Dad…"

"What the-oh my God, who is "Puck"? Kurt, are you being stalked by some pedophile? Oh my God, I have to-"

"Dad!" Kurt screeched, leaping up and trying to wrest his phone away. Burt was a good head taller than his son, so it was more than easy to hold the stupid piece of technology out of his reach. "Give me my phone-give it to me, damnit!"

"Not until you tell me what the hell this… message-thing is about!" Burt yelled angrily, hissing when Kurt's buffed nails grazed his shoulder. "Why is someone saying you're a little bitch that likes to be-"

"Hello?" Both father and son froze at the third voice, staring at the phone with wide eyes. "Hello? Burt, I know you're there!"

"Uh, Al? Hi," Burt rushed out, holding an arm out to keep Kurt from being able to snatch the phone away. "What? No, no problems at all! No-just some… some joke. Heh." He nodded to himself as Al told him about a new shipment of tires. "Yeah, put 'em in the front display. I'll be a little late today, just wanted to let you know. Okay. Okay, Al. Bye."

He waited until the dial tone echoed in his ear to pull it away. He glared down at a terrified-looking Kurt. "Now, what the heck was that all about?"

"It was just-I was just talking to a-a friend?" Kurt offered desperately, wincing when Burt kept a hand on his shoulder as he tried to inch away. "It's no big deal, dad-"

"This "Puck" is talking about fingerfucking, what the hell kind of friend discusses that?" Burt roared. "Do you talk about that stuff with your other friends, huh? Should I expect to overhear you swapping blowjob tips with that nice Jones girl?"

"Dad, ohmygod you are insane!" Kurt screeched in disgust, flapping his hands at the mere thought.

"Then explain this, and give me this Puck's address so I can go make sure the only thing that'll be riding him is a lawnmower!"

Kurt made a mad grab for his phone before using his fancy footwork to his benefit to slip away before Burt could snatch the phone back. "Dad, I started the sexts, not Puck!"

Burt wrinkled his nose, wincing when it gave a slight twinge. "Sexts? What the hell is a sexts?"

"A sext is a…" Kurt mumbled something beneath his breath as he toyed with his iPhone, no doubt deleting any and all of his discriminating messages.

"Is a what? Speak up-you talk loud enough when I'm trying to watch TV!"

"A sexy text!" He burst out, flushing as red as the crabs on Deadliest Catch, utterly mortified. "It's a sexy… text, dad. That's it."

Burt was pretty sure his face looked pretty ugly from his moue of shock and outrage. "'That's it'? Kurt, what the hell-"

"Would you rather me play around with Puck in reality?" Kurt snapped angrily.

Burt clenched his shaking hands into fists, storming over to the staircase. "That's it, I'm home schooling you. I hope you're okay with living in here forever, because I'm gonna change your door so I can lock you in."

"Dad, you're overreacting completely!" Kurt wailed. "I'm a teenage boy-don't you know all about hormones and curiosity and-"

"I don't know because I'm not gay!"

An awkward silence followed Burt's outburst, and he felt horrible and helpless as Kurt's wide green-blue-grey eyes (just like his mother's) watered up with tears.

"Just because I'm not into girls does not mean I don't think of sex, dad." He said it in such a composed, robotic way that Burt knew it was a defensive mechanism. "I may be gay, but that doesn't make me inhuman."

"I… I'm sorry, Kurt," He gruffly said after another tense moment. "I'm just-I don't like thinking of you doing… that. And not because of the gay thing!" He quickly said when Kurt's expression darkened even more. "To me, you're Kurtie, the boy of mine that wanted Barbie dolls instead of Tonka trucks. You having sex-over the phone or in person, whatever... it weirds me out 'cause adults have sex."

"Dad," Kurt said quietly, that offended glare finally slipping from his face. "But I am an adult. Almost, at least. I'm not your little boy anymore. And I don't like tacky dress-up heels anymore, I have taste," He said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Burt grumbled, "But your taste isn't under twenty dollars anymore, either."

Father and son shared a long look, and Burt found himself smiling in spite of the tightening in his chest. "You are growing up, I'll give you that," He said softly. "But you'll still be Pretty Princess Kurtie to me."

"You're getting sappy in your middle age, dad," Kurt said with a strained chuckle as he nudged his dad with his shoulder. Burt shoulder-bumped him back even as his skin flared in pain. "Should I be expecting your mid-life crisis sometime soon?"

"Shuttup, it's probably all that Lifetime bullshit you make me watch."

Kurt sighed and leaned into Burt's one-armed hug. "Love, you dad."

"Yeah, love you too, Kurtie. But I want to meet this Puck character. No," He said firmly, when Kurt began to protest, "You're not grown up yet, so I can still tell you what to do. Call him up and tell him to come over for dinner tonight."

"But you're a horrible cook!" Kurt whined. "And Puck's nothing but a friend."

"I don't care, I'll order take-out. And Kurt?" His son frowned up at him in question. "If he's nothing but a friend, why was there one of those weird heart-symbols next to his contact name?"

Burt smirked as he got up, for once leaving his son speechless. "Now, I gotta go get ready for work. Do you have any of that aloe shit?"

"Yeah," Kurt said faintly, pointing to a cabinet in his vanity.

"See you tonight, Kurt. Tell Puck to be here before eight, or I won't wait until he defends himself before I mount his balls up on the mantle."

Kurt waited until he heard the basement door close behind his dad to call number three on his speed-dial. Puck answered before the second ring. "Dude, what the hell? I've been turning blue waiting for you to sext me back."

"Don't "dude" me, and blue balls are the least of your worries at the moment," Kurt said a mite hysterically. "You're invited to the Last Supper. Eight o'clock-don't be late… and maybe wear your sports cup?"