Little seven year old Kurt has lots of questions.

Well of course he has lots of questions, he's only seven, after all.

Lately it's been why this and what about that and just where do babies come from anyway?

When Kurt's mommy and daddy answered that last one, Kurt's first words were 'gross' and 'ew' and then he had said 'that's never gonna happen for me 'cause just no'.

However, the biggest question plaguing him as of now was who exactly was that little boy sitting all alone on the swing set?

Little Kurt takes in the other boy with his eyes and the first thing he notices is the giant, unruly mop of dark hair on his head. Kurt thinks his hair could be very pretty if he used some of his mommy's special hair stuff. It would make it shine. The next thing he notices is the too big, ratty t-shirt hanging precariously on the boy's shoulder because the neck of it was just so large, Kurt doesn't know why he wears it at all. The shirt is paired with a dirty pair of blue jeans, though Kurt thinks it odd that the jeans look too small while the shirt is obviously not small enough for the boy's slight frame. He isn't wearing any shoes.

And then he noticed the boy's large round eyes. They looked kind of funny, they were so large, but Kurt can't help but see just how pretty they are; they're green and brown and sort of gold.

Kurt decides he'll talk to him because he's sitting all alone on the swing set and well, Kurt doesn't have any friends to play with right now anyway because all the other kids are too busy playing with each other.

"H'lo," Kurt says as friendly as possible.

His greeting, however, has the complete opposite effect he was expecting because the little, curly-headed boy on the swing is so shocked that he topples backwards off the swing and falls right to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Kurt squeaks, leaping over and grabbing the swing just as the other boy sits up because well, if he didn't, the seat of the swing would have smacked the kid right in the face. "Did you get hurt?"

The boy's eyes grow even wider, if such a thing is possible, and he's peering up at Kurt as though he's seen God or something.

"I-I'm okay," the boy with the wide eyes says.

"I'm sorry I scared you so bad," little Kurt says, holding his hand out.

The other boy simply looks at his hand as if he's waiting for something to happen.

"You hold it," Kurt instructs, feeling quite knowledgeable. "So I can help you up."

"Oh."

Their hands finally clasp and Kurt pulls the boy to his feet. As soon as he's standing, the odd boy simply stares at their hands, not moving to pull away.

"I'm Kurt," Kurt says because of course if they're holding hands they should know each other's names. It was only proper.

"I'm Blaine."

"That's a nice name," Kurt comments. "Blaine. Blaine." He rolls the name around his tongue and decides that yes, Blaine is a very nice name. "I like it. I've never met anyone named Blaine before."

Little Blaine doesn't speak at all, he's still staring at their clasped hands and Kurt thinks he looks kind of confused.

"We should swing," Kurt says. "Just as long as you don't think you're gonna fall off again."

Blaine's eyes dart back to his. "I won't. You just scared me, is all."

Kurt nods and lets go of Blaine's hand, though he thinks Blaine seemed a bit reluctant to do so. They sit on the swings next to each other, their legs not quite long enough for their feet to touch the ground. Blaine's legs seem much shorter than his though.

"Why don't you have any shoes on?" Kurt thinks to ask.

Blaine simply shrugs and stares at the ground. "Dunno."

"You dunno why you don't have shoes on?"

Blaine shrugs again, which causes Kurt to frown because he doesn't quite know how to go about a conversation with someone who's just going to shrug through it all.

"I've never seen you at this park before," Kurt says. "And I come here all the time."

"I don't live close," Blaine informs him.

"Where do you live?"

"It's a long walk away. We don't have a park where I live. So I came here," little Blaine explains.

"You walked a long way with no shoes on?" Kurt asks. "Don't your feet hurt?"

"Not a lot."

"Hm."

Blaine reaches up to hold on to the swing chain and when he does so, it causes the opposite side of his shirt to fall down over his shoulder, revealing a horrid, greenish yellow bruise.

"You must fall over a lot," Kurt says, pointing to the bruise.

"I don't fall a lot!" Blaine says in his own defense, though Kurt thinks it's perfectly okay to be clumsy. He sees a lot of clumsy people. He used to be clumsy too but that was when he went through what his daddy called a growth spurt. He wasn't used to his new height and he was just all kinds of clumsy. He doesn't think Blaine's gone through a growth spurt yet. Blaine just looks kind of scrawny and small.

"It's okay if you do," Kurt tells him.

"But I don't."

"Where'd you get your bruise then?"

Blaine goes quiet again and Kurt decides he doesn't like quiet Blaine. Blaine has a really pretty voice when he talks and Kurt wants him to talk some more so he can hear it.

But he doesn't get to hear much more of Blaine's voice because his mommy is calling him over, saying that it's time to leave.

"I gotta go," Kurt tells his new friend. "But I'll come back tomorrow. Can you come back tomorrow too?"

Blaine bites his lip. "I can try."

"I hope you do. You have pretty eyes."

As Kurt walks away, he doesn't see Blaine staring at Kurt's retreating back with a gaping mouth.

The next day, Kurt and his mommy come back to the park. Kurt immediately looks around for the friend he made yesterday. He sees him sitting alone in the sandbox. He's wearing the exact same clothes he wore yesterday. Kurt hopes Blaine's mommy washed them for him. He toddles over to Blaine and sits on the edge of the sandbox.

"Hi Blaine," he says, hoping Blaine won't fall over this time.

Blaine's head jerks up and he smiles broadly. "Hi Kurt."

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing. Just sitting."

"You didn't bring any toys to play with?"

Blaine shakes his head slowly. "I don't have a lot of toys."

Kurt thinks that's sad. Everyone should have lots of toys because toys were like, the best thing ever. But he's beginning to realize that he doesn't like a lot of the kinds of toys other boys his age like. None of the other boys like tea parties or crafts like he does. He wonders if Blaine likes those things.

"That's okay," Kurt says. "I have lots of toys. I can bring some the next time we come to the park and we can share. Do you like tea parties?" Kurt asks. "Because I know lots of boys don't."

"What's a tea party?"

"It's lots of fun. Or I think it's fun. It's where you sit at a table and you can dress up and you have tea in pretty cups, or pretend tea, anyway, and you can have little crackers and cookies and things. And you can pretend you're a princess or a prince or whoever you want!"

"Who do you pretend to be?" Blaine asks him with curious eyes.

"Um…I pretend to be Belle sometimes. Or Ariel. At least when she's got feet. I dunno if mermaids can have real tea parties."

"I think it'd be hard to have a tea party when you live under water," Blaine agrees.

Kurt notices that Blaine doesn't make fun of him for playing the girl parts from his favorite Disney movies, which is nice because all the other boys do exactly that. But let's face it, there's not a whole lot of Disney movies besides Aladin that have prominent male roles.

"I'd like to have a tea party with you," Kurt says. "You could be whoever you want."

"If you play Ariel, can I be prince Eric?"

"If you want to, yeah!"

Blaine smiles again and Kurt kind of likes that he can make Blaine smile because otherwise, he just looks sad all the time.

"We can have a tea party tomorrow," Kurt says. "You can come over and we can have one."

Blaine pauses and bites his lip. "I…don't know if I can come over. My mom and dad don't let me go to other peoples' houses too much."

"Why not?"

Blaine shrugs. "Dunno."

Kurt frowns, trying to think of a way around the problem at hand. "What if you only came into the front yard?" he asks. "Because if it was just the yard, you're not really in the house. So it doesn't count."

Blaine screws his face up, scrunching his little nose as he considers the option. "That might work," he concludes.

Kurt grins. "Okay. So I'll ask my mommy if it's okay for you to come home with us tomorrow after the park. But she'll say yes. She always says yes."

"Okay," Blaine nods, ducking his head.

But then he goes quiet and when Kurt realizes he misses the sound of Blaine's voice again, he asks, "Are you okay?"

Blaine looks up at him with his big, round, pretty eyes but he looks nervous.

"Can I – can I ask you something."

"Sure."

"You don't…have to if you don't want to," Blaine begins, "but…will you hold my hand again? Like you did yesterday after I fell?"

Kurt tilts his head to the side because really, it isn't that odd of a question. He asks his mommy to hold his hand all the time. Everybody holds hands. Well, except for most of the boys. But Blaine is a boy and he wants to hold hands so Kurt thinks that maybe there are other boys in the world who like to hold hands too.

"Yeah," Kurt says, holding up his hand with outstretched fingers. "Here."

Blaine stares at his hand, though not the same way he did yesterday. He isn't looking at it like he's confused or anything; he's just looking at it like it's something he really, really wants. But eventually Blaine slips his hand into Kurt's and then Kurt squeezes it, hoping that the action would make Blaine see that it was okay.

"Your hand is soft," Blaine whispers.

"My mommy always gives me lotion," Kurt explains. "It keeps hands soft."

"I like it," Blaine admits.

"Thank you," Kurt says, scooting closer so that they're both cross-legged with their knees touching. "I like your hand too. It fits real well in mine."

Blaine gives the slightest of smiles. "Yeah. It does."

The next day, despite their plans, a lone figure with a curly mop of hair, no shoes, and ill-fitted clothing sits alone at the bottom of a slide on the playground.

He waits for hours in the blistering heat.

When no one comes, he leaves.

The day after, Kurt rushes over to where he sees Blaine sitting in the sandbox again.

"Hi," he says happily.

Blaine doesn't answer; he simply trails a single finger through the sand, head tilted down.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

" 'M fine."

"But you look sad," Kurt notes as he settles down in the sandbox in front of Blaine. "Why are you sad?"

Blaine finally lifts his head to turn his pretty owl eyes up at Kurt.

They're wet.

"Why are you crying, Blaine?" Kurt asks him, unsure of what he should do. His mommy always holds him when he cries but Kurt doesn't know if he should hold Blaine. Should he hug him?

"I thought we were going to have a tea party yesterday. You said you'd come get me," Blaine reminds him quietly.

"It was too hot to be outside, though. Everyone's moms and dads kept them inside. I thought yours would too," Kurt explains.

Blaine shakes his head dejectedly, letting it fall back down and Kurt sees a single tear drip down from his cheek and fall to the sand.

"I was here. I was here for a long time and I waited for you. But you never came."

"You were here?" Kurt asks with shocked eyes. "But it was so hot! And you…you walked from far away with no shoes? My daddy said you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, it was so hot. Are your feet okay?"

"They hurt when I got home, but I'm okay," Blaine assures him.

"Why didn't you stay inside? You're…Blaine," Kurt says sadly when he gets a clear look at the smaller boys arms, legs, and neck. "You got all sunburned." He reaches out to touch him but thinks better of it. He's been sunburned before and it hurt a whole lot when someone touched it. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Blaine nods slightly and Kurt can hear him sniffling.

"Didn't your mommy and daddy tell you not to go outside?" Kurt asks.

"No," Blaine sniffles, bringing the hem of his too big shirt up to wipe his nose. "They didn't say anything."

Kurt doesn't know what to say because that doesn't seem right at all, for some reason.

"Did they put stuff on your sunburn?" Kurt asks his friend. "My mommy always puts this gel stuff on me when I get sunburned. It makes it hurt less."

"No," Blaine shakes his head.

Kurt frowns and falls quiet for a second before he stands. "Stay here," he instructs. "I'll be right back."

He runs as fast as his little legs allow and goes to the park bench where his mother is sitting with a bag at her side while she talks to one of the other moms. She smiles at him as he digs through the bag, pushing aside a few bottles of water, a bottle of sunscreen, and pulls out a bottle of aloe vera. She looks at him quizzically but he runs off before she has a chance to ask him anything.

"Here," Kurt says, sitting down once more. "This will make it feel better. It's the gel stuff."

Blaine looks at the bottle in question and bites his lip. "A-are you sure it's okay?" he asks. "Your mom won't be mad if I borrow some?"

"Why would she be mad?" Blaine shrugs and Kurt pops the little cap open, squeezing out a bit of the aloe in his hand. "Hold out your arm."

Blaine raises his arm timidly, as if he's afraid Kurt's going to rip it off. But when Kurt simply starts rubbing the stuff all over his tender skin, he sighs in immediate relief and Kurt smiles.

"Feels lots better, huh?" Kurt asks conversationally.

"Yeah," Blaine admits, watching as Kurt applied more of it to his other arm and to his stretched out legs in the sandbox. "Lots."

"You should tell your mommy to buy some."

"W-we don't have a lot of money," Blaine explains. "So we don't buy a lot of stuff. The only thing we buy lots of is beer."

Kurt wrinkles his nose at the word. "Beer smells gross," he states.

"Yeah, it does," Blaine agrees. "My dad drinks a lot of it."

"My daddy drinks it sometimes too. But not a lot."

Blaine falls silent at Kurt's admission and allows Kurt to rub a bit of the aloe on his little cheeks and neck.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?" Kurt replies, snapping the cap closed and setting the bottle in the sand.

"When…when your dad drinks beer does he…does he ever get…you know…"

"What?"

"Does he ever get really mad?" Blaine asks quietly.

Kurt thinks for a second before answering. "No. But he doesn't drink it too much. He just gets kind of…happy, I guess. He thinks everything's funny."

Blaine looks slightly dejected at the answer. "Oh."

"Why?" Kurt wonders. "Does yours?"

Blaine nods slowly. "Um…yeah. Sometimes."

"Does he yell and stuff?"

"Yeah."

"I don't like it when grown-ups yell," Kurt says. "It's scary."

"Yeah," Blaine says quietly. "Real scary."

"So…did you want to have the tea party tomorrow since we didn't get to have it yesterday?" Kurt asks his friend.

"…Only if you promise you'll be here to pick me up like you said," Blaine says softly.

"I will be," Kurt states. "I didn't forget about you, I promise. We just weren't allowed outside."

Blaine licks at his chapped lips and gives a decisive nod. "Okay."

"You're my real good friend," Kurt tells him. "I won't forget."

With a very slow smile, Blaine's eyes meet Kurt's. "You're my real good friend too."

"You wanna go play on the swings?" Kurt asks. "We can hold hands like the day before yesterday."

"Yeah," Blaine says quickly.

Kurt smiles and reaches for Blaine's hand, careful not to hold too tight because of his sunburn.

He likes that Blaine lets him hold his hand. It's kind of really, really nice.