@nadiacreek, @alianne, wish and you shall (hopefully) receive ;)
Kurt takes a deep breath, removing his coat and putting it in his locker.
It’s nothing, Kurt, it’s just a trinket, an accessory, nothing more than one of them wearing a cross or a star of David …
He pauses, frowning at his own thoughts.
Does this make c-- p-- this, my religion?
A blush instantly takes over his neck and cheeks in blotchy spots.
Okay, Kurt, some day, you will be able to say it, in your head, aloud, to someone, telling them to t--
“Hey boo.”
Kurt neearly jumps out of his skin at Mercedes’ greetings, and his hand flies to his throat. “OH, hey, hi ‘Cedes.”
Mercedes beams at him, flicking her soft curls over her shoulder, and Kurt admires her outfit.
“I see our last shopping spree has been put to good use,” Kurt comments, eyeing it all until his eyes rest on Mercedes’ necklace.
For a second, he thinks that it is one like his own.
And then Mercedes spots his necklace, and the way her eyes bulge confirm that she is not, in fact, wearing a Viviene Westwood accessory.
“Kurt !”
“Shhh!!!”
She drops her voice, but not her hand from his wrist. “What. In. The. Lord’s. Name. Are. You. Wearing?”
Kurt instantly straightens up, bristles and lifts his head up. “It’s called high fashion.”
“No, Kurt, it’s called pornography on a chain,” she hisses. “You’re going to get yourself beaten up!”
“So, it will be an ordinary day at McKinley High,” Kurt mutters.
“You could get suspended--does your father even know you have this?”
“My father lets me manage my budget,” Kurt counteracts, dread starting to invade his body.
What if Mercedes is right?
What if he gets suspended from school?
Oh shit, what if they call his father and question him about Kurt’s … non-Dress code approved choices?
His dad may have been cool with the whole coming out, but Kurt somehow doubts that he will be as lenient with--
Kurt huffs and stands even taller as he shoulders his bag.
It’s just a necklace.
They can deal with it.
Mercedes stares at him for a moment, before joining him, catching his arm. “As you wish, boo.”
Kurt gives her a tight smile--he’s not mad, he’s just about to puke of sheer nerves.
And--
“Mr. Hummel!”
Shit, shit, shit …
Meh, at least he didn’t get beaten up ...
---
“Okay, buddy,” Burt says slowly, in his placating tone he only uses when he’s approximately 0.2 seconds away from losing his temper, “I need you to explain it to me--talk to me like an idiot, and explain how you could think this,” he says, gesturing at the necklace lying on their coffee table, “would be considered abiding to the school’s dress code.”
Kurt crosses his arms over his chest, leg crossed and angrily marking the seconds. “If those Cheerios’ skirts are dress code abiding, then--”
“I’m not talking about those skirts, Kurt!”
His father so rarely raises his voice with him that Kurt freezes.
“I don’t care about those girls, let their parents deal with that impropriety! What I want is for you to give me, your Dad, an explanation as to why a necklace shaped like genitals seemed like a good accessory to wear in school!”
Kurt recoils from the strength of his father’s outrage and his hands grasp his knees until his knuckles turn white.
“I just--,” he starts, gulping a couple of times and Burt only looks at him with a serious look on his face, prompting him to go on, “--I just wanted to wear something that would elevate me above … Above the rest.”
“Well, it certainly made you … stand out.”
Kurt snaps his head to look at his dad, and he can’t be sure, but there is something akin to the hint of a smile on Burt’s lips.
But he dismisses that thought pretty quickly--his father wouldn’t …
He wouldn’t …
Make a dick joke, now, would he?!
“It’s a high fashion piece, Dad,” Kurt goes on. “Just like my bow ties or some of my shoes, or some of my scarves.”
“Except that last time I checked, your bow ties, and shoes, and scarves, and pants, and sweaters, didn’t have dicks on them, son.”
Kurt thinks of the pair of leggings he put in his basket just last week and removed when he came to the conclusion that he should just wait for sales, but he’s not about to mention them.
“Listen, Kurt, I get it,” Burt says with a sigh, and Kurt can’t help but raise a doubtful eyebrow. “Now, don’t give me that look, I may not be g-gay, but I do remember how it felt to be in High school and wanting to make the world just see me, okay.”
Kurt gives his father a small nod.
Now that the dust has settled, and he’s about to be homebound for the next three days, he feels a bit sheepish, to be honest.
And to think that the principal thought that it was Kurt’s way to try to go and turn some of his classmates into homosexuals.
Bleurgh.
“Now, what about you put that necklace in a drawer, until you’ve grown enough that the very word it’s shaped like doesn’t make you turn like a fire engine.”
“Dad!”
“And in the meantime, come back to the garage,” Burt tells him, this time with a smile on his face. “I’d bet that this … trinket of yours, took a big chunk of your savings.”
“Dad?”
Kurt looks up from his knees, head tilted to the side, not sure of what his father is saying.
“They decided to suspend you, for something as silly as their dress code, and yeah, it’s stupid, and petty,” Burt says, putting one hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “And yeah, this was inappropriate--as inappropriate as if you had decided that a pair of underwear was enough to go to school. But this doesn’t mean that I’m going to make you go through a double punishment.”
Kurt gives his dad a wobbly smile. “Th-thanks dad.”
“You’re welcome, buddy. Just doing my job.”
(Years later, once settled in New York, Kurt does pull the necklace out of its box and wears it with a deep blue tuxedo in lieu of a bow tie, and makes the headlines in every fashion blog.
Which was always the goal of that particular purchase.)
Kurt Hummel was having the best day ever in his 6 short years of life. His Mummy and Daddy had taken him to Disneyland and allowed him to wear his Cinderella crown and wand and bring his Disney Princess autograph book. Seriously, Kurt was about to pass out from the sheer awesomeness of this day. They were currently about three meters away from Peter Pan, and Kurt had to keep a tight grip on his Mummy's hand so that he didn't run up to him and "invade his personal bubble". As they edged closer, Kurt got butterflies in his stomach. This was the best day in the world, Peter Pan was his favourite and he was finally getting to meet him!
A voice cut through Kurt's excitement filled gaze. It was gruff and stern.
"Why're you letting that kid wear that faggy crown? That's gay. Your son's such a faggot." He sneered. Kurt tightened his grip even further on his Mummy's hand, not understanding the words, but understanding that when his Daddy flexed his hands into fists it was not a good sign.
"I-" Burt was abruptly cut off by Peter Pan striding over, a grin on his face.
"Excuse me, sir, but I’m about to give you some advice I never tell anyone: grow up.” Peter Pan kept the stranger's gaze until he left, dragging his kids and wife with him and muttering something about "Fag enablers".
Kurt stared up in wide eyed wonder at Peter Pan. Peter Pan grinned back at Kurt and knelt down to his level.
"What's your name?" He chirped.
Kurt's brain was in overdrive, Peter Pan was talking to him! "K-Kurt." He stuttered out.
"Well, Kurt, I love your crown. It's very pretty. But be careful, Captain Hook might try and steal it!" Peter Pan laughed.
Kurt stood in silence for a moment before shyly presenting his book to Peter Pan. "C-Could you sign this?" His cheeks flushed red.
"Sure!" Peter Pan produced a pen with a flourish and signed Kurt's book, with love hearts and all.
"Come on Kurt, let's get going." His Daddy muttered from next to him. Kurt nodded before hugging Peter Pan and then shyly running off. As he was walking away with his Mummy he didn't notice the appreciative smile his Daddy gave Peter Pan, and the small nod of acknowledgement Peter Pan gave his Daddy.
1. When he was eight, Kurt spent most of the summer lying on the floor in his parents' bedroom, smelling the scent of his mother's perfume. It hadn't worn off yet, wasn't just in the drawers of the dresser, and whenever he felt overwhelmed, whenever a well-meaning relative would say something insensitive, or he'd had a bad day, he'd go there and remember the sound of his mother's voice. He'd remember how much she loved him.
2.The tea-parties are some of his favorite memories, and in an old book, his favorite book of fairy-tales at the time, there's a pressed daisy, one of the ones he'd picked to sit on the table one sunny afternoon.
3. Kurt keeps his wardrobe up to date - he has to, or he'll be overrun with clothing. But there are certain pieces he keeps, vacum packs and lays carefully in his closet. Even when they no longer fit, or have gone out of style, there they'll say. He's not sure if he'll take them to New York immediately, but he feels like he should wait. They should wait, because those clothes are part of what means home. And his dorm room, with all its promise, and excited as he is, he feels like that won't be home.
He'll know when it's home. He has an inkling already, at least when it comes to with whom.
