#burning your hand on the stove and being completely consumed in flames are pretty similar too when you think about it

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

my student for some reason: sure the Nazis murdered 11,000,000 people in extermination camps, but the United States temporarily imprisoned 110,000 Japanese Americans, and at the end of the day, those are pretty similar

me: I guess?

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Quite the Stir” (Rated PG)

A Friday night family dinner goes humorously awry when a series of unfortunate circumstances turns the Hummel-Smythe family meal from gourmet to gruesome. (1930 words)

Notes: I wrote a similar piece for Klaine, and even though the bare bones premise of the story is the same, there is a very different dynamic at play, and a very different reason for Kurt's angst. Written for @hummelholidays prompt “family”.

Part 33 of the Daddies verse

Read on AO3

“How does this look, Kurt?” Sebastian asks, standing puffed up and proud in front of the concoction he’s been helping his husband create.

Kurt peeks over Sebastian’s shoulder and into the pot on the stove, assessing his progress. He checks it against his iPhone screen, and the gif playing of the meal that they’re making. The two look identical. Kurt gives him a pat on the shoulder, then one to their adorable son beaming beside his father, mimicking his pose of pride.

“Looks good, everybody! It looks, dare I say, scrumptious?”

“Yes! We’ve reached ‘s’ word status! High-five!” Sebastian wipes a hand on the apron wrapped around his waist, then raises it so his son can give him a high-five - which Thomas does, hopping down from his stool so he can leap into the air and smack his dad’s hand with all his tiny might.

“Ouch!” Sebastian teases, shaking out his hand. “Careful there, kiddo! I’m gonna need that hand later.” Sebastian glances over at his husband and gives him a wink. Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Only if you’re good,” Kurt replies with sarcastic sweetness. Thomas snickers, completely out of the loop but instinctively knowing his Daddy said something that got him into trouble.

“Okay, Papa!” he pipes in, eager to join the part of the conversation he does understand. “What do we do next?”

“Next” - Kurt scrolls down the page and continues reading the recipe - “fold in three egg whites and one egg yolk separately, careful to incorporate each one fully before adding the next.”

“Got it.” Sebastian holds out a hand to Thomas, gesturing for the eggs. Thomas hands them over one at a time, slapping each one perilously into his father’s hand.

“I’m glad we got the ‘s’ word,” Thomas says, causing his fathers to choke on their laughter, “but is it supposed to smell like puke?” Thomas peeks dubiously into the pot, a frown curving his small lips.

“Considering the amount of parmesan cheese we put in this sauce, I’d say that yes is a safe bet.” Sebastian deftly rescues the last two eggs before they crack in his hand. “But look on the bright side - it probably doesn’t taste like puke.”

Thomas looks at his fathers, then back into the pot, taking another skeptical sniff. “Are you sure we can’t just go to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner tonight?”

“We can go to the Rat Pizza Palace when it’s not family dinner night,” Kurt declares. “Friday night dinners are a tradition. Tonight is our one night for togetherness, reconnecting with each another, and a family cooked meal.”

“But we eat dinner together every night!” Thomas giggles.

“Yeah, well, who knows what might happen a few years from now,” Kurt mutters, feigning fiddling with his phone so that he doesn’t have to see the concerned faces of his husband and son.

So he doesn’t’ have to explain why he’s been in such a mood lately.

He could blame it on the holidays. A lot of people get blue in December. But that’s not it – not entirely.

In their family, Kurt is considered the strict parent. The disciplinarian. In reality, he’s not. He has maybe five hard and fast rules, but everything else is pretty much negotiable – especially considering the fact that if someone in their house is going to break a rule, it’ll be Sebastian, not Thomas. But this rule – this one is too important. Being together as a family, sharing a meal, talking about their week, was the cornerstone of his and his father’s relationship after his mother died. No matter what went on in their lives, no matter how many late night rehearsals or overtime at his dad’s shop took them away from one another, they always had Friday.

It was sacred.

There was a time during high school when Kurt took Friday night dinners for granted and ducked out. Not too long after, his father had a heart attack. Kurt regretted those missing Fridays for the rest of his life. Thank God his dad recovered, because if Kurt had squandered that time and didn’t get a second chance to …

Anyway, that didn’t happen. But it could have. And it’s because of that that he made the decision when they adopted Thomas that Friday night dinners would be sacred again.

He usually doesn’t think too hard about it; it’s simply part of their schedule. Yes, they eat dinner together every night, but Friday night is “family dinner night”.

No, it didn’t strike him as redundant at all.

But it hit him out of nowhere this year, because this year Thomas turned eight – the same age Kurt was when his mother passed away. And since then, he’s spent way too much time reflecting on what his life was like after that day … what Thomas’s life might be like if he lost Sebastian or himself. He’s already lost his own mother. Thomas doesn’t mention her much anymore, doesn’t have the nightmares he used to have when he first moved in, but Kurt knows he still thinks about her.

And Kurt knows how that feels.

Family dinner night won’t really make an impact until Thomas reaches high school, possibly junior high, so maybe Kurt is taking this Friday night home-cooked dinner thing a little too far. But he doesn’t want to make the wrong decision and regret it later. The older Thomas gets, the more he foresees that happening. All he can do is find a happy medium between his heart and his head, and hope for the best.

“What’s wrong with Papa?” Thomas whispers to Sebastian after several minutes of silence.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, Tom-Tom.” Sebastian smiles sympathetically at his husband. “He’s just feeling a little low.”

“Oh.” Thomas looks at his Papa struggling with his phone, distracted by his attempt at appearing okay. “Is there any way we can help him?”

Sebastian sighs. That’s a good question. He’s been trying to help Kurt for days. He’s no closer to an answer tonight than he was a few days ago. “How about we finish making dinner and go from there? Maybe we can go out and get a cheesecake for dessert. That might cheer him up.”

“Gotcha!” Thomas gives his Daddy a thumbs up. “What’s next, Papa?”

Kurt sniffles, looking at his phone with his back purposefully turned. “While slowly raising the heat, stir vigorously to get your sauce to thicken.”

“What constitutes vigorously?” Sebastian asks.

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know. Just stir it fast. It needs to thicken, right?”

Sebastian lifts the spoon from the pot and watches the sauce drip. “Yup. It’s about the consistency of water right now so the thicker the better, I say. Right, Tom-Tom?”

“Right!”

“Maybe we should use the hand mixer. Or something else with a motor.”

“Like my remote control car?”

“Or my car!” Sebastian suggests, imagining the chaos that would ensue if they hooked up his Porsche engine to their hand mixer and let her rip.

“Yeah!” Thomas cheers, hands raised above his head. “That would be awe--- um … Daddy?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Is the sauce supposed to be doing that?”

“Wha---?” Sebastian looks at the sauce he’s been stirring non-stop and sees not a thick, creamy sauce, but a frothy foam expanding with each turn of his spoon, rising steadily to the top of the pot. Sebastian is reluctant to stop stirring but not sure he should continue. “Uh … Kurt? Can you read what comes next, please?”

Kurt looks over from the salad he’s been throwing together to the recipe on his phone. “Don’t stir too vigorously, or that may cause your sauce to thicken too quickly and rise.”

“Uh …” Sebastian and Thomas share a look. Thomas hops off his stool and takes a cautious step away, dragging his service dog, who’s been watching them silently this whole time from the foot of Thomas’s stool, with him. “I think it’s thickening too quickly! And rising!”

Kurt turns to look, startled by the foaming head rushing to the top of the pot. “Jesus!”

“What do we do!?” Sebastian asks.

“Stop stirring!”

“Won’t it burn!?”

“Turn off the heat!”

Sebastian moves the pot to a cold burner and switches off the flame. Dad, dad, son, and dog gather around the stove, watching the pot, waiting for the sauce to settle. But their dinner suddenly takes on a life of its own, burbling and bubbling, overflowing at an alarming rate.

“That didn’t help!”

“It’s getting all over!”

“Lay the spoon across the top!”

“That only works for pasta!”

“Put the pot in the sink!”

Sebastian runs the pot to the sink. The contents slurp over the sides, leaving a trail of white spots on the floor, each one doubling in size after it lands. “It’s not stopping!”

“It has to eventually! There’s only so much sauce in there!”

“It doesn’t seem like it!”

“What now!”

“Dinner’s ruined!”

“I don’t think that’ll matter if it drowns us first!”

“God, I’m hungry,” Thomas mumbles.

Kurt looks at the mess that was their dinner and sighs. They followed all the directions exactly. Up until the point his screen froze and he took a moment to make a salad, everything was going fine.

Except it had stopped going fine because Kurt had gotten lost in his thoughts, completely consumed by the past and a future that has yet to happen.

That probably will never happen.

He and Sebastian are strong, healthy men, and barring anything out of their control, they both intend on being around for their son for an awfully long time.

He had gotten bummed and, in turn, he’d made his favorite people on earth bummed. And now, dinner’s ruined.

He looks at the pot spewing its contents onto the counter. No … the food is ruined. Dinner is what they make of it, and wherever they eat it, all that matters is that they’re together.

He can’t live in the valley of what if’s forever. It’s a good thing to plan as if he’s going to live forever, but there are some days he should live as if he might die tomorrow.

And, unfortunately for parents, that sometimes means leaving a gourmet, nutritionally balanced meal behind to eat subpar, greasy pizza promoted by a giant Rat.

“Run!” he says.

“Run where?” Sebastian asks. Thomas doesn’t need to be told twice, heading for the door to grab his jacket.

“Where is Chuck E. Cheese again?” Kurt asks, internalizing a groan because, as much as he loves his son, it’s still Chuck E. Cheese – a cardboard crust, tomato sauce out of a can, and cheese whose authenticity he can’t vouch for.

His stomach objects just thinking about it.

“Yes!” Thomas cheers because kids’ taste buds are underdeveloped, and their stomachs are lined with lead.

“What about the mess!?” Sebastian asks, not actually worried about the possible destruction of their kitchen because duh! He can just hand Kurt his AmEx card and let him re-decorate.

Who knows? A little retail therapy might put him on the road to recovery.

“It looks like Hepburn has that handled!” Thomas laughs, watching his service dog lick up the drops left along the floor.

“Ugh! That can’t be good for his digestion.” Kurt reaches for a dish towel to wipe away the final few before Hepburn can get to them, but the animal is attacking them at a phenomenal rate. He’ll just have to hope the poor dog doesn’t vomit in Sebastian’s Porsche on the way to the restaurant. “Oh, nuts! Just grab him and go!”