Media: Fic (Glee)

Title: Lying Awake at Night

Rating: PG 13

Spoilers: S02E20 Prom Queen

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Word count: 658

Beta: Unbetad. Anyone interested?

Completed: May 2011

Disclaimer: No money had been made from the production of this fic. Does not belong to me

Author Notes: Was written as part of an assignment for Creative and Professional Writing 101, at Curtin University.

Summary: Blaine is a lot more scared of Prom than he is telling, but Burt senses something is wrong...

Lying Awake at Night

Prom. Who knew? That seemingly simply, four letter word, that made him lie awake at night. Sure, every girl going would be doing the same thing in anticipation, as well as half the guys (those who were hoping to get laid at any rate), but not for the same reason as him. Yet he knew how much this meant to Kurt, to be able to go to Prom with him.

The day after Kurt first asked him, he was round the Hummel household for an afternoon of watching Disney movies while curled up on the couch with his boyfriend. When Burt Hummel got home later that evening, Kurt was busy in the kitchen getting dinner prepared. Seeing Blaine on the couch, Burt sat down next to him, while staring ahead resolutely. It was almost a full minute before Kurt's father broke the silence.

"Take care of him."

Blaine was startled at this. He already had the 'Hurt My Son and I Kill You' talk a number of weeks ago. "Sorry?" Blaine looked at the rough, oil smeared mechanic (who looked every bit the trucker), the question clear on his face. Burt still didn't turn to face him.

"At Prom. Take care of him. Don't let him go anywhere on his own. This is something he has been looking forward to for a long time. Longer than he's know you even. I don't want the night ruined for him."

Blaine looked down at his lap, arms crossed, his face sombre. "I hope not Sir, but I am still worried. Last time I went to a school dance with another guy, we ended up in hospital, after being attacked in the parking lot after." Blaine paused for a moment, and his voice dropped, to barely more than a whisper. "The other guy killed himself a month later."

Burt looked gruff, his eyes not leaving the muted television, where a colourful, children's cartoon was. "I thank God every day that Kurt hasn't been pushed that far. Sometimes I think we close last year, with everything that was going on." Blaine could hear the man's voice becoming hoarse. "But he has you now. You get him in a way I never will." There was sadness in his voice, almost regret. Blaine hesitated for a moment, before resting his hand on the shoulder of the big man beside him.

"Kurt wouldn't have made it this far without you, ya know. He is so lucky to have you, to have a father that accepts him so completely. I've told you before I was jealous of that. Don't cut yourself short." He took a deep breath, not sure if what he was saying was getting through to Burt. "You once told me that Kurt gets his morals and compassion from his Mother. Now, I know I never knew Kurt's Mom, but somehow, I know he gets that compassion from you. As different you two are, you are more alike than you think.

It was only now that Burt looked away from the silent TV, to face the teenage boy beside him. Blaine was the picture of a well brought up young man: clean shaven, hair well groomed and neatly parted, clothes clean and pressed. The teenage boy who was dating his son. Burt refused to cry (he hadn't cried since Kurt's Mom had dies. Crying was something that men just don't do), but his eyes were beginning to look glassy. "I'm terrified of going to Prom, but I'm doing it for Kurt. I have to…I- I want him to have a better time than me."

It was at this point that Kurt ducked his head out of the kitchen, calling "Dinner's ready!" which ended the conversation. Nothing more was said on the subject for three days, when Blaine agreed with Burt's theory that Kurt wearing a kilt to Prom would be asking for trouble (yet Kurt insisted on wearing it anyway).

So here he was. Lying awake the night before Prom, terrified of walking into a crowded room for fear of violence. Yet he would do it, and hold his head high. Not for his sake, but because Kurt needed him to.