"Okay, be careful there, Kurt." Dr. Howell got an arm under Kurt's and hoisted him up. Kurt managed to clip his foot on the edge of the door and sagged against Carl.

Burt looked up from the magazine, slightly alarmed. "Is he okay?" He tossed the magazine on the table next his chair and stood up, grabbing Kurt from the other side. His son's eyes were half shut, staring dazedly at the walls. He seemed to only have partial control of his limbs, which just hung off of him, limp.

"He's fine. Usually, we just use a little Novocain, but Kurt was a little anxious. A little fidgety. And he kept questioning my credentials. So some gas seemed like it was best for everyone. I played a little Hall & Oats for him while he was under as payback, so I guess we're even."

Looking at his father like he just recognized him, Kurt hummed in the back of his throat and leaned his head on Burt's shoulder. "Hi, Dad."

"You sure he's okay?"

"Dad. No. Don't even. I'm perfect." There was a slight slur to Kurt's words. Burt looked over at Carl, concerned.

"I promise you, he's fine. It just hits some people a little harder than others. Just makes sure he doesn't drive or anything, but I don't think I have to worry about that." He grinned.

"Thanks, doc. Okay Kurt, let's get you home." Burt started to walk Kurt towards the door, but was stopped by the fact that his hand was tangled in Carl's. "Okay, Kurt. Let go of Dr. Howell. Come on." He glanced at Carl, a little uncomfortable.

The doctor gently pried his fingers from Kurt's grasp. "It's okay," he said to Burt, "this happens more often than you'd think." He turned his attention to Kurt. "You take care of yourself, okay? I'll see you in a couple weeks." He flashed a toothy grin.

"Thank you, Dr. Easy-On-The-Eyes."

"That's a new one." He patted Kurt's hand and let him go. Kurt sighed and wrapped both his arms around Burt's neck.

"See you around." Burt navigated through the chairs, his son shuffling next to him.

"Okay, buddy, here we are." Burt shifted Kurt to the side and opened the back door of his car. "Let's get you in here." Keeping his hands to Kurt's sides, he guided him into the backseat. Kurt crawled in on his hands and knees, flopping down on his face.

"You wanna sit up? Put a seat belt on? Nah, you're probably fine." Kurt's feet hung over the edge of the car door. When the hell had his son gotten so long? Burt grabbed Kurt's ankles and pushed the rest of him inside, twisting Kurt's lower body and bending his knees until he was mostly on the seat. He locked the door and shut it, hoping no limbs were in the way.

Burt slid behind the wheel and started the car up. He managed to get through the parking lot and onto the main road with minimal jiggling. For a few minutes, the car just glided down the street, allowing Kurt to doze in the back. Unfortunately, after getting on the highway, another car cut him off, forcing him to hit the brakes suddenly.

Kurt moaned, pushing it himself up until he was sitting.

"Sorry about that."

"No, I'm fine." Kurt made another groaning sound.

Burt grimaced, his eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror. "Does it hurt real bad?" He tapped on his jaw.

"My stomach hurts."

"Well Carole has the couch all done up for you when we get home." He sighed. "I don't like it when you hurt."

"Oh, Dad. You don't have to worry about that." There was still a slur to his words.

"Of course I do. I'm your father."

"I always make sure I'm prepped. Stretch it out. It never hurts all that much. Don't worry."

Burt flicked his blinker on. "Prepped and stretched for what? Like for Cheerio practice?" He started to merge.

"No, like for when I'm fingering myself."

Brakes screeched and Burt swerved violently into the next lane. A car blew past them, the driving flipping them off.

"What the hell, Kurt?"

"What? You said you worry. I'm pacifying you. Lube makes it all so much easier."

Burt chanced a look back at his son. He was staring out the windshield, a dreamy smile on his face. Slowly, he slumped back in the seat, his eyes closed.

The silence in the car was insufferable. Burt shook his head, trying to forget what Kurt said. It was just the gas. He wouldn't normally say anything like that. For some reason, that fact was very comforting.

"But the first time I used a dildo, oh lord." Kurt bolted back up, his eyes wide. "I should have known, two fingers were not enough to get me ready." He giggled. "Do you remember, Dad, when I was whimpering really loud and you asked what was wrong and I said I saw a Black Widow spider? And you wanted to come in, but I told you I had just gotten out of the shower? And you couldn't because I was still naked? Do you remember that Dad? Dad?"


"Well, I was lying. That was actually the first time I used a dildo on myself. That was the day. Do you remember that day?"

His father stared stonily at the road. "Maybe we should just be quiet for the rest of the car ride."

"It hurt like a bitch. Like, you don't even know."

Burt set his jaw, determined to get through this. "I sure don't."

"That was my favorite toy, though. After I got used to it. It was nice and soft. And like squishy. And it was purple and it had glitter in it." He wiggled his fingers in front of his face. "It was so cute. And it felt a-maz-ing. Like, it hit all the right spots. I mean, I couldn't even count how many times that thing made me come. At least two of my top five orgasms were from that little guy."

Kurt pouted. "But I lost it. How do you lose something like that? I mean, I lose socks all the time. I do laundry and I take it out of the dryer and I have a million mismatched socks. But I mean, one day... I washed it off, and I swear put it in the box in the closet, and then I went to get it later it wasn't there.

"I'll probably find it when we move. We'll be packing my stuff up, and I'll be like 'Hey Dad! I found it!' and we'll have a good laugh." Kurt curled up into the fetal position and slumped down across the seat.

Burt prayed that Kurt would forget all of this when the gas wore off. He would have to help himself forget by employing the use of alcohol. Screw his doctors.

"Oh my god. Dad. Dad. Hey, Dad? Dad." Kurt's arms flailed as he worked to sit up.

"What. Kurt. What."

Kurt shuffled forward, resting his chin in the passenger seat. "Do you think that I could get a guy to do that? Like, be all glittery? Oh my god, that would be so awesome." He moaned out the last world with appreciation. "I mean, strippers are always all glittered up and shiny. There's gotta be a way for a guy to glitz his dick up." The slur was leaving his speech, further torturing Burt with his son's articulation. "Maybe like, glittery condoms or something."

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "I don't know. Maybe you could Google it."

"Yeah." Kurt sat back, leaning his head against the window. Burt hoped he was finally coming down from his over-talkative high.

"Hey, Dad? Do you want to hear about the time the guy at the porn shop hit on me?"

Burt pressed harder on the gas, not caring that the needle was passing eighty.

"Okay, here we go." Burt closed the door behind them and walked Kurt to the living room. Carole was waiting.

"Hey honey." Carole ran a hand through Kurt's hair. "How're you feeling?"

"Sleepy," Kurt mumbled. He let Carole kiss him on the temple, then sprawled out on the sofa. He managed to toe off his shoes before almost immediately falling asleep.

Carole pulled an afghan out of the closet and draped it over him. "How did the appointment go?" Burt pushed past her and went to the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

Burt pulled a bottle of beer from fridge and twisted the cap off, tossing it on the counter. "No more doctor appointments for me. You take him." He took a long pull from the bottle. "And I don't want to talk with him about boys anymore. He can tell me about his first kiss, after that, he tells you. You summarize for me."

He wiped his face with his hand. "And when we pack to move to the bigger place? You help him with his room."