IRC-Galleria

"Kurt," Carole looked at him with her eyebrows raised, "are you hiding something from us?"

"No," Kurt said, his voice jumping an octave, "nothing at all! It's just it's such a beautiful day! Why don't you two go downstairs and I'll make breakfast-we'll eat al fresco!"

"Kurt," Burt growled, "get away from the door and let me open it. NOW."

"Dad, my closet is super messy, and I don't-"

"Your closet is organized by color and designer Kurt, I seriously doubt that."

"Not designer," said the voice from the closet, "because I'm pretty sure that he has a McQueen next to a Marc Jacobs."

The blood rushed into Burt's face, turning it bright red. He looked like he was going to kill someone. Kurt plastered himself against the closet door, hoping that his dad still had hang-ups about killing his offspring.

"Kurt," Burt said dangerously, "I will give you to the count of three. If you have not moved by then, I will move you!"

"Hey Kurt," said the voice from the closet again, "you move me!"

"That's it!" Burt charged at the door, Kurt yelping and moving out of the way. Burt attempted to yank the door open.

"Dad," Kurt muttered, "the door has a lock on it from that side."

"Blaine Anderson, you open that door right now!"

"But you'll kill me!"

"Blaine," Burt said, trying to keep calm, "open the door please. Nobody is getting killed."

"I don't believe you!"

"Blaine, honey," Carole said, "come out of the closet!"

"I already have," Blaine giggled, "remember? I'm dating Kurt!"


:D:D::D:Dddd Blaine I love you