“I’m telling you I ate enough last night I won’t be hungry again for a week please I’m almost done-”

Blaine laughed and didn’t let go of his arm as he marched him towards the kitchen.

“That’s what you said an hour ago. Come on, we were starting to miss you.”

Kurt stopped arguing and looked at Blaine with raised eyebrows.

“We?”

“Well, I’m already sick of you again, but she doesn’t want to eat with just me. Sit.”

He choked down the salad in front of him, bouncing Eliza on his lap, and rushed back upstairs. Before he knew it, it was dark outside and he had three thick portfolios overflowing with sketches, designs for men, women, everyday, formal, catwalk, a thousand different cuts and colours. He didn’t remember doing half of them; it was like reading old diaries, seeing parts of himself he’d forgotten. It was enough for a collection. It was enough for a dozen. He’d spent almost an hour on the phone to Joanna, his college professor, setting up meetings and interviews. She’d almost screamed when she recognised his voice (‘I don’t know who put you up to this, but if you’re not fucking them I will’) and sworn to use every connection she had to get him out of ‘that hellhole’.

He leaned back in his seat with his fingers linked behind his head, puffing out his cheeks as he exhaled. He heard a voice coming from the next room. It was smooth, beautiful, and so warm he felt like it was holding him. It was Blaine.

“I have often walked down this street before…”

The song was enough to make Kurt’s eyes sting. He’d had to sing it at Rachel a thousand times so she could ‘gain a better understanding of the character’, even though she mostly just missed singing with him. Every time he would say ‘you’re not even in the scene; why do you need to go over it again?’ but within minutes he’d be twirling her around the kitchen, even when she was seven months pregnant, feeling like they were in high school again. Now he was glad he’d never been able to say no.

“But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before…”

Kurt slowly stood up, making sure he was silent. The last thing he wanted was for Blaine to stop. He crept towards Eliza’s room, his heart pounding, and stopped in the doorway to listen as Blaine had his back to him. He rocked from side to side in time, cradling Eliza against his chest and occasionally holding her up to rub her nose against his.

“All at once am I several storeys high…”

He lifted her over his head, making her giggle. Kurt caught her eye and grinned; she clapped and squealed at the sight of him, just as Blaine sang:

“Knowing I’m on the street where you live…”

Kurt ducked out of sight behind the door frame. He felt guilty somehow, as if he were hearing something he shouldn’t have been, but he kept listening anyway.

“Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?
Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?
Does enchantment pour out of every door?
No, it’s just on the street where you live…”

Kurt leaned against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back as he took a few deep breaths. It was the song about Eliza Doolittle. The last part Rachel ever got and the reason behind his daughter’s name. He felt a tear start to spill over his eyelashes, trickling so slowly down his cheek that it felt like it was mocking him. He wiped it away in frustration, silently telling himself to get it together.

“And oh, the towering feeling,
Just to know somehow you are near,
The overpowering feeling,
That any second you may suddenly appear…”

A smile started to form on Kurt’s lips. It had been so long since he’d heard the song that he’d forgotten how lovely it was. Even though he could picture Rachel poking and teasing him for it, he let himself imagine for a second that Blaine was singing it about him. He could practically hear her laughing and singing ‘you like him!’, and he looked at the ceiling and mouthed ‘shut up’. He edged towards the baby’s room, inching around the doorway to get another look at Blaine, utterly relaxed as he sang to her.

“People stop and stare. They don’t bother me.
For there’s nowhere else on earth that I would rather be.
Let the time go by…”

He turned and saw him. Kurt thought about darting out of sight and pretending he’d never been there at all, but by the time he formulated a plan it was too late. Not only had Blaine seen him, he’d made that particular kind of eye contact that was almost impossible to break. Instead of the reaction Kurt expected – blushing, going silent, suddenly deciding he needed something downstairs and running away – Blaine beamed at him and finished the song, loudly and theatrically, lifting Eliza again and spinning around so she giggled uncontrollably.

“I won’t care if I,
Can be here on the street where you live.”

As the song ended, he concentrated on the baby, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair and holding her hand. Her fist clenched around his thumb as it always did. He bent his head forward to kiss her on the cheek. When he finally looked up, Kurt started blushing. He felt like he’d intruded on something painfully private.

“I’m sorry I- should I go?” Blaine smiled at him and held back a laugh when he kept rambling. “I mean, I know you don’t like, well, obviously you must like it because you must have heard yourself and you can’t hate anything that sounds like that but I understand if you don’t want me to- you, um… you’re… you’re really good, Blaine. Why did you…”

“Why did I stop?”

Kurt nodded. He couldn’t stand to hear any more of his own verbal diarrhoea. Blaine looked at the baby again for a second, then back to Kurt. He sat in one of the armchairs and held Eliza on his lap. She gazed up at him. Kurt sat in the other chair, shifting it to be a little closer to him.

“My parents were kind of pushy. They’d probably call it enthusiastic and encouraging, but they were on the verge of being scary stage parents. When I was a kid I didn’t really mind, because it was just singing with my mom and it all felt like a game, and at school I was in the choir and the musicals, and I loved singing. If people tell you over and over that you’re good at something, you kind of just want to do it to make them happy, you know?”

Kurt knew. He remembered trying to do what he thought his dad would want, and realised how lucky he was to have learned so young that he was loved regardless.

“Anyway, as I got older, the audiences got bigger. There were shows and competitions and stuff, and people were always so sweet about it but it got too big. Even in college, playing and singing to other performers felt weird, like they were all trying to figure out how to beat me. I know I was probably imagining it. It was just… music was my special thing. Writing music was kind of like writing a journal, and then sharing that with a crowd of strangers was like telling them everything about me, what made me happy, what I was scared of, who I was in love with… It was as if somebody was barging in on something totally private, like they’d cut me open and were just poking around.”

Kurt wrinkled his nose unconsciously; Eliza giggled and Blaine cuddled her close and tucked her head under his chin.

“Okay, that was gross, but I just remember feeling so exposed. It wasn’t adrenaline-rush, rollercoasters and fireworks, can’t-wait-to-get-onstage nerves; I didn’t feel safe. Actually, after I dropped out, I didn’t have anything to do with music for months, and then I started working for Coop. It pissed my parents off, of course, but just hanging out with Henry and Stacey all day was perfect. I didn’t even realise I’d been singing them to sleep until Cooper pointed it out. He thought it was hilarious. I guess when it’s around people I trust, people I care about, it’s not so scary. People like Henry, Stacey, Lizzie… you…”

Kurt swallowed and tried to stop his face from lighting up too much. He cares about me he cares about me HE cares about ME… It didn’t work. Blaine grinned at him.

“Yes, Kurt. You. I knew you were listening.”

Kurt frowned.

“How?”

“I know everything. And I saw your reflection in that picture frame.”

“But you didn’t stop.”

“Then I guess you are one of the few privileged people in the world who is allowed to hear me sing. Now, I think someone’s hungry, so it’s time for dinner.” Kurt stood up and was about to head back into the office to keep working, when he saw Blaine put the baby in her crib.

“I thought you said-”

“I meant you. She’s been stuffing her face and you haven’t eaten since lunch; I’m ordering Chinese and we’re going to watch something that has nothing to do with clothes. You need a clear head for tomorrow.”

They talked all the way through ‘The Devil Wears Prada’.

~

Kurt was pretty sure he was vibrating. It was 9am and he’d already lost count of how many coffees he’d had. Blaine had glared at him until he’d eaten a slice of toast and an apple and forced him to sit on the couch with the baby on his lap. She stared up at him, wondering why he was trembling. Kurt wasn't even surprised that she managed to convey concern for her father's well being. Nothing she did surprised him anymore. He kissed her on the head and held her hand to reassure her, but he didn't fool either of them.

“It’s just a meeting, Blaine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Sure. Deep breaths.”

Kurt insisted they weren’t necessary but complied anyway. This definitely wasn’t just a meeting. This was a meeting with two executives and a senior designer from Lyric, not the biggest, but his personal favourite design house in Manhattan. This was Joanna’s idea of ‘easing him back into real design’. This was The Meeting.

He dropped his bag three times on his way from the kitchen to the door. He had more than enough time to get there and he had everything he needed and he knew that even if this didn’t work out there would be other options, something just as exciting, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He stood for almost a minute with his hand glued to the door handle, until Blaine appeared behind him and covered it with his own.

“Kurt.”

Kurt’s breathing slowed down at the sound of his voice, but his pulse sped up as soon as he felt the warmth of Blaine’s skin against his. He let go of the door and turned to face him. Blaine’s hands moved up to his arms, gripping him firmly.

“Mmm?”

“Whatever happens, you’ve got Eliza. And you’ve got me. We’ll both still be here when you get home. Got it?”

Kurt swallowed and nodded. His throat was tight and his voice was strained, but he forced out a quiet ‘kay’.

“You’re gonna kill it; I know you are.”

Kurt took another deep breath. He didn’t feel much like a killer. He didn’t feel much like anything except a pile of raw nerves, but he smiled weakly at Blaine.

Blaine grinned back at him before sliding his hands down from Kurt’s biceps to his wrists, kept moving them until their hands were touching, joining, their fingers linking together. He reached up to kiss him on the cheek, gently but firmly enough to show that he meant it, lingering for a beat. Both of their hands automatically gave a squeeze.

Kurt’s eyes fluttered, and when Blaine pulled away again he was blushing.

“Go get ‘em.”