Author's Note: This is not as good as I was hoping. I might re-work it. But I hope you guys enjoy it anyway?

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Finn Hudson or Kurt Hummel or Blaine Anderson

Summary: Much to Kurt's dismay, Finn drags him to the Lima Fair for a day of fried food and fun. Kurt is not amused. Brotherly!Furt Finn Kurt brother fic; fluff Klaine

Pairings: Kurt/Blaine (Klaine)

Genre: Humor/Family/Friendship

Food On a Stick

Kurt Hummel knows his agenda for the day. He wakes up at 8:00 to do his moisturizing routine and to wash his face. He eats breakfast at 8:30 in the morning (a bowl of Kashi cereal with skim milk and a hard boiled egg—only the whites, naturally). He will then brush his teeth and work on his latest collage of fashion icons (Marc Jacobs and Alexander McQueen are in there of course). He will do his morning exercises before starting on lunch (a whole wheat turkey breast and lettuce and tomato sandwich), before he calls his darling boyfriend Blaine to find out what the agenda is for the day. Then he will proceed to spend the rest of the day with Blaine (and possibly his dear friend Mercedes) and maybe eat dinner at home (after all, he has to make sure that his father, Burt Hummel, eats at least one nutritious meal).

Kurt is on step "work on his latest collage of fashion icons" and is happy about how smoothly his day is progressing. Everything is going as planned and he couldn't be more satisfied.

Sighing to himself, he cuts out a fabulous picture of a Louis Vuitton handbag and sets it aside, his brow furrowed as he exerts all his energy into his art piece, when he hears an "ahem" at the door.

Forehead still interrupted with lines of concentration, Kurt looks up to see his stepbrother, Finn Hudson. Finn looks nervous—he licks his lips hesitantly, and his eyes keep coming up to meet Kurt's for seconds at a time before shifting away to look at the floor like a Golden Retriever that just did his business in the living room. Even his gigantic frame is hunched over and his hands are clasped together in anxiety.

"Finn?" Kurt asks nonchalantly, his voice exuding a little more concern than he originally intended. He doesn't look directly at Finn, but waves his hand to indicate that he realizes his stepbrother is there. "Can I help you?"

"So, Kurt, I was just wondering," Finn says, with a dramatic gap between each of his words, "doyoulikefairs?"

Kurt pauses and looks at Finn, his eyes interested. "Sorry, Finn, what was that?"

"THE LIMA FAIR!" Finn nearly shouts, all of his initial reservations seeming to have vanished. "You know," he finishes lamely (and rather sheepishly), as though embarrassed to have been so excited and acting like the fair is really no big deal, "the one that comes every year—with the rides and the cotton candy and the candy apples and the fried food a stick-"

"Oh," replies Kurt primly, returning to his stack of Vogue magazines, "no, Finn, I am not a fan of the county fairs. They're just an opportunity for parents of young, spoiled, misbehaving brats to splurge all of their yearly earnings and a very imminent danger of heartburn and sclerosis and future heart defects due to the means by which the 'food' offered is full of unnecessary and excessive lipids and carbohydrates. So no, I do not really enjoy fairs."

With every word, Finn's shoulders drop lower and lower.

"I... I just thought maybe we could go," he says hesitantly.

"If I wanted to die at a premature age, I would go with you," Kurt replies curtly, "but a heart attack is not on my agenda."


Kurt looks up after a pregnant pause of around twenty-eight seconds only to see his Finn wringing his hands. "Finn?"

Finn's face looks distraught. Continuing with the puppy metaphor, he looks now as though his master has hit him repeatedly with a newspaper and told him that he is to have no walks or treats for a week. "They have... fried alligator—on a stick!" (The way Finn says this makes it sound like they are handing out pounds of diamonds and gold accompanying free Burberry coats and Kurt is an absolute moron for not wanting to go to the fair).

"No thank you." Kurt emphasizes the "no," and sends a silent prayer to some higher being (though he doesn't regard himself as a particularly religious person) that his stepbrother will give up and leave him alone.

"Please." Finn is practically groveling now, and Kurt looks up to see Finn at his bed. "Please Kurt, please, let's go to the fair!"

"Why can't you go with Rachel or Puck or Sam or Mike or anybody who isn't me?" Kurt's battling the climbing desperation in his voice because damn Finn and his whiny, demanding brotherly ways.

"Puck's grounded having sex with the cougar who lives next door, Rachel's out of town with her dads, Sam is having a Harry Potter marathon to prepare for the premiere of the last movie and nobody's allowed to interrupt him—I know because I called and he was crying and went all mental on me, Mike and Tina are out on a date to some Asian retreat with Mike's parents, Brittany and Santana are having a pedicure-girls day and plus they're no fun anyways, you know how Quinn feels about me ever since I broke up with her and you were the one that told me I'm not allowed to send mixed messages, Mercedes is too much for me to handle for long periods of time, Lauren will beat me up if I tell her to come with me even though she probably would eat all the fried food on a stick with me and to be honest I'm a little worried she might have a heart attack, and Artie—I know this is awful—but it's hard to wheel him around all day and plus he wouldn't even be able to ride a lot of the rides!" Finn quickly finishes this long explanation, breathing hard.

Kurt blinks hard. God, Finn really has tried everyone. Kurt blinks again, trying hard to figure out if he should be offended that he's Finn's last choice or that Finn values Kurt's time so much that he entertained everyone—even Lauren—before he came to Kurt. God, Finn really needs some friends outside of Glee.

Sighing dramatically, Kurt closes his eyes.

"Fine," he mutters, under his breath.

"What did you say?" Finn's voice is anxious, hesitant—pleading.

"Fine," Kurt says more loudly, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you!" Finn pumps his fist in the air. He ruffles Kurt's hair (much to Kurt's horror) and then picks Kurt up like he's weightless, throwing him over his shoulder. "We're going to the fair! We're going to the fair!" Finn yelps, before putting Kurt back on his bed and running (still singing at the top of his voice) out of Kurt's room.

Kurt attempts to regain some of his composure. He strokes his hair back into place and wonders how much money his father will have to spend on therapy after this experience.

"Finn, I think you've had enough."

Kurt's voice is sharp and irritated, but this is perfectly rational. It's over 90 degrees out, the sun is beating down heavily on his shoulders and probably causing his skin to freckle, he is surrounded by many men with beer guts and other like-minded Neanderthals who keep giving him strange looks (not everybody can appreciate the genius of a Prada kilt), and his stupid stepbrother is eating a pile of greasy chili fries.

In the half hour that they have been at the fair, Finn has proceeded to demolish fried alligator, four fried Oreos ("They're mushy but so good, Kurt, are you sure you don't want any?"), a fried Milky Way bar, a fried turkey leg, a fried Twinkie, a fried Snickers bar, and a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich. In that order. And all (with the exception of the chili fries) on a stick.

"It's so good," Finn gushes, his eyes closed. He sounds like he's experiencing some kind of bliss that usually only sex following a five-course, five-star meal (or vice-versa) can fulfill. He shoves more beans and fries into his mouth, while Kurt looks at him in disgust.

Kurt uses two fingers to pluck the remains of Finn's chili cheese fries from him and throws it into the trashcan. When there is a howl of protest, Kurt grimly looks ahead (while plucking a towelette from his handbag to wipe his fingers) and says, his voice steely, "You'll thank me when you live past fifty."

Finn processes this bit of information with a rather confused look on his face before he decides to accept the fact that his chili cheese fries have met the fate of a garbage can and wisely chooses to move on. "Let's go on a ride."

"Oh no, I am perfectly comfortable on the ground, thank you very much," Kurt says resolutely. "I am not getting on one of these filthy, germ-infested rides that have been spit on by grubby little toddlers who also don't have the decency to wipe their noses on tissues but prefer to spread their mucousy buggers all over the seats of the rides."

"Kurt," Finn wheedles, "please. Just one ride, please." He looks pathetically at Kurt with large, puppy-like eyes (dog extended metaphor continued, thank you very much), the perfect image of a dog who wants to play fetch with his master. "We can go on non-scary one—like the rollercoaster," he rushes his words when he takes in Kurt's horrified look of alarm, "or like the ferris wheel or the... teacups?"

Kurt grimaces at the mention of each suggestion. "No, Finn Hudson, absolutely not."

Finn casts his eyes down to the ground in disappointment, his shoulders visibly sinking after Kurt's reply. He shuffles his feet along, making a dramatic scene of sighing loudly and looking sad.

Kurt stiffens and looks away. No, no, no he is not letting his stupid giant stepbrother get his way this time. Kurt Hummel is putting his foot down and that is that. He walks ahead of Finn, his footsteps firm and assured, his arms crossed defensively across his chest.

And he turns back—just once—to see Finn pull an arm across his face which is awash with disappointment, and his heart just wrenches in his chest.

No. Stupid Finn and stupid puppy dog eyes and stupid pathetic, dumb sad frown on Finn's face. Kurt Hummel has made his decision and he's going to stand by it—

But Finn looks so sad—

"Okay, Finn, one ride."

And that is how Kurt finds himself riding everything from the ferris wheel to the rollercoaster and the damn spinning teacups combined.

Kurt steps out of his teacup, his head spinning and his legs wobbling. Finn walks stupidly ahead of him, grinning his dumb Golden Retriever smile, complete with the lolling tongue and wild eyes. Kurt then waits patiently, studying his perfectly manicured fingernails, as Finn proceeds to throw up the aforementioned fried alligator, four fried Oreos, fried Milky Way bar, fried turkey leg, fried Twinkie, fried Snickers bar, fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and chili cheese fries into a conveniently placed trashcan by the teacups ride. He daintily hands Finn a towelette to wipe his mouth, and after Finn has emptied the varied content of his stomach and cleans his face, Finn proceeds to look wildly excited.

"That was awesome!"

Awesome is not the word that Kurt had in mind—mainly he was thinking more on the lines of "putrid" or "disgusting" or "foul" and "completely unnecessary," but who is he to stop Finn from bounding off only to splurge money on a massive, nearly frisbee-sized funnel cake doused in a mountain powdered sugar?

Finn makes his way though about a third of the fried dough until he realizes Kurt is standing and watching him in horror.

"Here, try some," Finn offers, in what he believes to be a friendly manner. He thrusts the plastic plate at his stepbrother, "It's really good, I promise."

"No, no, no," Kurt emphasizes, taking a few steps back from Finn, "no, Finn, I refuse-"

Finn stuffs a piece of sugar-covered cake into Kurt's open, protesting mouth. "Shut up, Kurt. Eat it."

And Kurt does, and he feels the greasy dough make its way down his throat, surely immediately clogging his arteries, but the immediate sugar rush and taste is glorious.

"That... wasn't so bad," Kurt admits, swallowing again, sprinkles of powdered sugar on his lips.

"More?" Finn pushes the plate to Kurt. Kurt makes a promise to himself that he will go back to his strict diet regimen after this day, and breaks off a small piece of the funnel cake.

And then more.

And more.

And this is how Kurt Hummel finds himself eating about a third of a funnel cake and petting the goats in the petting zoo. He puts up with the goat until it starts eating the edge of his Marc Jacobs blazer and then he has had it. He is done being uncharacteristic for the day.

"Finn," he says sharply, "I think it's time to go."

Finn looks over from where he's running his hands through the thick hair of a llama (or is it an alpaca? Kurt's not quite sure, but being able to distinguish two tall, fluffy mammals doesn't seem to have much leverage on his immediate or far future so he doesn't really care too much).

"But Kurt," comes the whining protest, "we just got here!"

(Kurt fights the urge to look distastefully at his stepbrother and point out the fact that he has been at this insufferable fair for close to five hours at this point. Really, he needs to grow a backbone and tell Finn that enough is enough and they need to go home.)

Kurt steels himself for an angry retort (willing himself to believe that even if Finn starts crying like a baby, they will leave now.)

Except his train of thought is interrupted by a surprised, "Kurt?" in which Kurt turns around to see a confused Blaine, flanked by Wes who is eating—no, make that inhaling—dear lord, fried marshmallows on a stick.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?" There is evident surprise in Blaine's voice, as his eyebrows knit high into his forehead.

"Blaine!" Kurt says in surprise, and Finn pops his head around Kurt's shoulder.

"Hey Blaine," he greets in a friendly voice, seeming thrilled to see his stepbrother's boyfriend. "Isn't the fair great?" He seems completely (and blissfully) unaware of Blaine's abject misery.

"Er, I," Blaine plasters on a forced smile—Kurt knows his boyfriend well enough to know that it's a fake smile, "yeah, Finn, it is." Blaine grabs Kurt and pulls him down to whisper in his ear, "Kurt, Wes forced me to come here with him because David's parents are in town visiting. I've been here for an hour and I am dying."

Kurt gives his boyfriend an unsympathetic look that reads, Blaine, I know how you feel. Finn dragged me here. But I have been here for a godforsaken five hours and your one hour of suffering is not causing me to feel that sorry for you.

Said boyfriend seems to understand Kurt's facial signals well enough because he stops his complaints and instead squeezes Kurt's hand. "Let's get out of here," he says in a hushed voice. "Let's go home. Let's watch Project Runway. Let's go to a movie. Let's have a picnic. Let's go for sushi. Let's get as far as humanly possible from this monstrosity."

Kurt would laugh at Blaine's desperation if he weren't so desperate himself to escape.

Blaine starts to take action.

"Finn, Wes," he begins patiently, his eyebrows arching over softened eyes—God, Kurt's boyfriend is a good actor, on top of being an amazing performer and a diligent student, "Kurt and I have loved spending time with you two, but, uh, Kurt and I have... Kurt and I would like to... why don't you two enjoy one another's company? You both love the fair on a level that Kurt and I can only aspire to achieve and... we don't think we are worthy of staying here. Our excitement cannot even come close to rivaling yours."

Finn looks confused. His forehead crumples in concentration and his eyes gleam with bewilderment. "Wait, what?"

Damn, Kurt should have warned Blaine to cool it on the big words.

Wes, however, seems to understand perfectly fine, and indignation is written all over his face. "Finn—that's your name, right?" Finn nods in reply, while Wes barrels on. "Kurt and Blaine want to ditch us. They hate it here."

Finn's face is one of complete shock. "Wait, what?"

Kurt rushes to reply, throwing a dirty look at Wes. "No, no, Finn, we don't hate it! I just need to take a break-"

Finn looks miserable. His eyes squint in sadness and his lip droops in disappointment. "It's okay, Kurt. I was just trying to share something with you that I like. You should just go. I'll be okay." His shoulders drop.

"Let's get out of here!" Blaine mutters, trying to hide his obvious joy. "Finn just gave you his blessing to leave." He grabs Kurt by the arm, and Kurt turns to leave the hellhole that is the county fair.

But wait—

Damn it.

Damn it.

Why the hell can't he just get out of here without caring about his stupid, overgrown stepbrother with huge arms and broad shoulders and an inability to comprehend words with more than six letters and that pathetic look on his face? Kurt watches as Finn crosses his arms over his expansive chest and watches the alpaca (or llama?) nudge Finn's face to get attention and, get this—Finn doesn't even respond or look up at the stupid llama and God it's all Kurt's fault that his dumb stepbrother is miserable and... Kurt pulls his arm out of Blaine's grasp.

Cursing himself and the stupid fair and all the stupid fried food, he stalks back over to where a goat is now nudging Finn in the knee to beg for some food. Finn is looking off into the distance somewhere, his eyes fixed on something that apparently only he can see.

Kurt closes his eyes, counts to three, and takes a deep breath. He clears his throat.

"Wait, Finn?" Kurt's voice lilts on a high note. "Finn, I'm staying."

"You don't have to," comes Finn's bitter reply. "I know you don't like the Lima Fair."

"Finn," Kurt says, "no, I don't. But I do like you. And spending time with you. And you're my brother, so I may as well get used to going to things like this," he gestures distastefully to a stand selling fried bananas coated in chocolate. "Blaine," he addresses his boyfriend, who is gaping at Kurt in horror, "I'll see you tomorrow. Love you babe—but today, I'm spending time with my brother."

If a passerby didn't know either Kurt or Finn and was passing by, by the look of pure admiration and worshipping quality plastered on Finn's face, they would have thought Kurt saved the world from the apocalypse.

"Really?" Finn's eyes light up like a lightbulb as he turns to face his stepbrother.

"Yes," Kurt admits begrudgingly, "the fair isn't actually as bad as I've made it out to be. I've actually had quite a bit of fun."

"Yes!" Finn fist pumps. "Let's go play games now!" He looks eagerly at Kurt.

Kurt glances at Blaine, who is now battling a wheedling Wes who wants the both of them to enter a pie-eating contest. "Blaine, I'll see you later," he says, planting a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek and ignoring Blaine's look of adamant frustration. "Today I'm spending time with my brother."

And so, Kurt and Finn walk off together towards the games with the water guns which will surely be a waste of money. But before they get there—


"Yes, Kurt?"

"Can I get some fried pie on a stick?"

"Anything you want, Kurt. Anything you want."

Kurt and Finn proceed to throw plastic balls at glass bottles until they realize neither of them is going to win anything. And Finn wins Kurt a hideous pink stuffed bunny by beating a three-year-old girl at a dart game. And Kurt kicks Finn's ass at the shooting range.

All in all, Kurt decides, it's a pretty good day. He might even go to the fair again next year. That is, if Finn is willing.

Author's Note: Ahh brotherly Kurt and Finn. The next short brotherly one-shot is Finn and Kurt making Thanksgiving dinner. Let me know what you thought of Food on a Stick (any suggestions for improvements are welcome!) and let me know if you want to see the next story... that is currently untitled but may be called A Very Vegan Thanksgiving.