It was easy to establish a routine despite Kurt’s erratic schedule. He felt like he was working constantly, but Blaine kept Eliza awake for when he got home so he could enjoy some time with her every day without him asking. He wasn’t as good a cook as Kurt, but he always made sure there was something for him to eat if he needed it, or something for him to throw together if he wanted. He kept the house together and made sure Eliza got enough food and sleep and he could change a diaper in eleven seconds flat, four times as fast as Kurt’s record time. Most importantly, he made her happy. She was as comfortable with Blaine as she was with her grandparents, almost as much as with Kurt. Kurt didn’t notice, but Blaine could tell she was just that little bit more peaceful when she knew her father was holding her.

Kurt was confused. He should have been stressed and exhausted and angry, but he wasn’t. He was flustered at a push, but not one-week-until-opening-night crazy. He had been letting abuse from anxious performers ricochet right off him, taking everything in his stride… surely he wasn’t that seasoned a professional? He didn’t need to be stressed; his work was basically done, but it was usually hard to be surrounded by that nervous, bubbling energy without getting caught up in it. Normally he would have shredded nails, lacklustre hair and a hurricane where his brain should be by now. It wasn’t until one Saturday morning that he realised what had been saving him from insanity.

The night before, he’d breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he opened the door. He heard Eliza squealing from her high chair and a smile immediately appeared on his face. He loved having that soft, happy voice to come home to. It was almost delicate, but he doubted it would stay that way for long, considering who she’d inherited everything else from. For the first time in a month, the house was messy. It wasn’t dirty, but there was books scattered everywhere, and he was pretty sure every cooking implement he owned was out on the counter.

“Kurt! You’re early!”

“Blaine, I-”

“No, no, sit down, play with Eliza or something; I’ll clear this up in a second-”

Kurt cracked up, putting a hand to his mouth as soon as he saw Blaine looking slightly hurt.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I just- what are you doing?”

“I’m cooking! Wow, I thought you of all people would recognise duck � l’orange when you saw it. You don’t need to lift a finger; just relax and take the pressure off and sit down, let me take care of everything.”

Kurt tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at the frenzied man running around his kitchen.

“Are you sure I can’t help? Do you even know what half of this stuff does?”

Blaine was determined to get Kurt to relax, even if he had to break his legs just to make him sit down. He ran over to the highchair, scooped Eliza out of it and plonked her in Kurt’s arms.

“There. She’s all you have to worry about right now. Leave everything to me.”

Kurt could think of nothing worse than leaving everything to someone else, but when he was clutching a smiling baby to his chest while someone else cooked for him, he guessed that Blaine taking care of dinner might not be the worst thing in the world.

Half an hour later, he was sure he was boring Blaine. He should have been. He’d been bitching about work since he got in, particularly the leading lady, Tamara Vincentio. Her name, albeit a stage name, alone was enough to make him hate her, but she constantly second-guessed him. He’d been designing and tailoring for this company for almost three years, since before she joined, and he knew every minor detail about them. He’d deliberately made her costume snug, and he hadn’t heard the end of it all day.

“So, I’m this close to screaming at her, ‘it’s not presumptuousness, it’s observation!’ There are some actresses who drop a size before a show. They don’t eat, they get stressed and overwork themselves and they get skinnier, so I measure their costumes accordingly. It’s standard protocol, you know?”

Kurt couldn’t stop eating, but he couldn’t stop talking either. The food was surprisingly good, considering this was probably the most ambitious thing Blaine had ever cooked, and the way he was gawping up at him, his eyes sparkling as if it was the most riveting conversation he’d ever had, made it easier to keep rambling, even though he was just moaning about stupid, inconsequential crap. Blaine shook his head in disbelief over the idea of someone questioning Kurt’s judgment.

“You’d think they’d trust you by now. I mean, it’s not like you could have given them a reason not to.”

Kurt decided not to mention the fact he once sewed through the side of his thumb and covered some rather expensive fabric in blood. That was an accident. When he decided to do something, it was always right in the end, even if it came under harsh scrutiny at first. Kurt swallowed the last mouthful of his dinner, mopping up the juice with a chunk of bread. He sat back, letting out a deep sigh.

“God, I must be boring you solid. How long have I been venting to you? More importantly, how have you managed not to tell me to shut up?”

Blaine sat up suddenly. He started to reach his hand towards Kurt’s before quickly placing it back on the table by his plate.

“What? Of course you’re not boring me; it sounds incredible. I don’t know how you handle all that pressure.”

Kurt smiled, standing up to pick Eliza up again and hold her on his lap. He ran his pinkie in the juice on his plate before letting her suck on it. She gurgled appreciatively, grabbing onto his fingers with her clumsy hands. Kurt and Blaine simultaneously let out a breath of laughter.

“It’s worth it. I always get so close to quitting, then I’ll see someone try on their costume and smile, knowing they look great, and I just think, ‘Wow. I did that. I drew it, and I made it, and it’s perfect.’ I guess it’s like Eliza. Everything I make is my baby. That’s why I get so pissed off when somebody says it’s wrong. It’s not just a job. I’ve never been that kind of person. If I’m in, I’m all in. I put my heart into those weird clothes, just like I put my heart into her.”

Blaine smiled softly at Kurt and then down at the baby yawning on his knee.

“I guess it’s a good thing nobody’s going to say anything bad about her; except maybe that she sucks at hiding when she’s sleepy.”

“In all fairness,” Kurt lifted her up and kissed her cheek before she let her head fall against his collarbone. She nuzzled against his neck with her eyes closed. “I don’t think she was trying to hide it.”

~

It was weird waking up naturally. He couldn’t remember the last time his sleep hadn’t been interrupted by Eliza screaming. It was a disturbing mixture of heavenly and terrifying. Something had to be wrong. Kurt looked at the baby monitor, even though normally she was loud enough to wake him from her room, only to realise it was switched off. How did that happen? He turned it on without even thinking about it every single night before going to bed; it was as much a part of his routine as brushing his teeth and moisturising his hands.

He sat up as if someone had pinched him and scrambled out of bed, pulling the covers to the floor and tripping over his slippers. He stumbled across the landing, panicking more and more the closer he got to Eliza’s room in silence. He felt his whole chest tightening as he got to her door. He paused before opening it. His palm was flat against the wood while his other hand curled around the handle. He took a shaky breath. He’d been too happy, things had been getting too easy and now something had to go wrong. That was just what happened. He had to hold on for a couple of seconds, just in case… just in case his worst nightmare had come true. He skin had turned to ice and he tried to hold onto the feeling of having a daughter while he still could.

He twisted the handle slowly, poised to run to call 911, pushing gently until he could feel carpet between his toes. He darted towards the crib, only to find that it was empty.

Blaine.

Kurt nearly passed out with relief. He realised just how much tension had built up in his shoulders as it flooded out of him, and he had to grip onto the crib for support. His head dropped forward while tried to catch his breath, which he’d been holding by accident. A tear ran down his cheek and he wiped at it haphazardly with the back of his hand. At least after Rachel, there was still Eliza, but if she… no. He took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out as he sighed, and straightened up, pushing himself away from the empty crib.

He padded gently down the stairs, still confused as to why he couldn’t hear anything. It was usually hard to shut Blaine up when he had the baby. As soon as he got to the living room, he had to clap his hand over his mouth to stop himself laughing or crying. He couldn’t believe what was on the sofa.

Blaine was slumped against the arm of the couch, his head nestled in the cushions, fast asleep with Eliza sitting up on his stomach. She was awake, her hands shoved in her mouth, smiling up at Kurt innocently with no clue that she’d almost given him a heart attack. He glanced at Blaine, whose snoring rivalled the baby’s, whose hair was flat on one side and springing out on the other, whose face was twitching slightly with worry. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he hadn’t fallen asleep properly because he was ready to tend to Eliza if she stirred.

Kurt knew one thing. He was adorable.

He smiled back at Eliza. Normally she’d make some noise of recognition, a gurgle or a laugh, but she seemed aware that someone was sleeping underneath her. She knew not to make a sound. She was gazing up at Kurt, her eyes wide, as if to say ‘Look, Daddy! Look at what I’m sitting on! Isn’t he great?’, but of course babies don’t think that. They certainly don’t convey it with their eyes. Kurt shook his head, telling himself he was crazy.

He swept over to the sofa, lifting Eliza away from him gently so Blaine wouldn’t feel the change in pressure. He held her as close as he could without squashing her and jogged into the kitchen quietly, whispering to her as he moved. He looked into her eyes, all the panic dissolving in his mind.

“Oh, honey, if you had any idea… I thought…” he sighed, smiled, and rested his cheek on her head and closed his eyes. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

She had the nerve to giggle at his anguish and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Laugh at your own father. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

He smoothly reached for a bottle a mixed some formula, managing to do everything one-handed while cradling Eliza against his chest as well as keeping quiet so as not to wake Blaine up, but the microwave beeped before he could stop it. It was followed by a creak and a loud thud, as Blaine shot up, lost his balance and rolled face first onto the floor.

Kurt suppressed a laugh as a head bobbed up from behind the sofa, glancing around to check if anyone had seen him fall then blushing furiously as he spotted Kurt and Eliza staring at him, Kurt’s shoulder trembling as he held back a chuckle. He grabbed onto the coffee table and pushed himself up, ruffling his hair and smoothing his shirt down when it rode up over his stomach. Kurt flushed slightly at the sight of skin, skin he wasn’t used to seeing, and he switched his focus to Eliza who was burbling away in his arms as he fed her.

“Did I- well, obviously, I, um… how come you…”

Kurt still didn’t look up at him, but grinned as he stared at the baby.

“It’s Sunday. They don’t need me. I was just going to do eggs if you wanted some?”

“Oh, no, I was meant to do that-”

Kurt finally raised his eyes, narrowing them as he caught Blaine’s eye. Blaine bit his lip.

“What do you mean, you were meant to- you know you’re not my cook, right?”

“No, but you’re really busy at work, and I, uh-”

The penny dropped. That was why the house was so clean, that was why Blaine had been working himself to death in the kitchen, that was why he’d taken the baby downstairs to calm her down rather than wake him up – and why there were probably no batteries in the baby monitor – Blaine wasn’t just taking care of Eliza; he was trying to look after Kurt, too. Both of their mouths were hanging slightly open; Blaine’s because he was still half asleep and embarrassed, Kurt’s because he was overwhelmed that anyone would do that for him, let alone someone he’d known less than a month; someone who looked that nice when they’d just fallen off a sofa, confused and dishevelled and sleepy and… Kurt forgot what he’d been thinking about until he felt Eliza staring up at him. If any four-month-old could be judgmental, it made sense that it would be his. He was about to ask her what she was looking at, when there was an ‘Ow!’ from the living room. Kurt tried to be concerned but Blaine had lifted his shirt again to soak up the blood gushing from his nose. It was distracting.

“Oh, crap, I think I hit it on the floor when I fell, you know-”

“Right, um, here-”

Kurt was really flustered now as he grabbed a towel and tried not to look at Blaine, because that stomach was not. Going. Away.

Stop it stop it stop it Kurt what are you doing stop looking at him just look at the baby hold onto the baby you pay him to look after you are thirty years old you can’t do this…

“Um, Kurt?”

“No! I mean, what? Is it- are you okay?”

“I think so… I don’t think it’s broken or anything… I’ll just throw this in the wash now before it dries.”

He pulled his shirt over his head like it was nothing, and Kurt swallowed hard.

“No, let me, go find a clean shirt or something; I don’t want you to get cold-”

“What? Don’t be silly, this’ll only take a second. You’re not getting out of doing breakfast that easy,” he teased with a grin. Kurt could have sworn he was on the verge of winking.

He stood by, helpless, as Blaine’s toned torso was paraded in front of him. One second it was something out of a magazine, flat and smooth save for a few contours of definition, the next he was crouching by the washing machine until the smallest tummy formed, and even that almost made Kurt fall over. This part of his brain had been shut off for so long, since before Eliza was born.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex, and suddenly he was inches away from that. He bit his lip and rushed around the kitchen, putting Eliza in her high chair (God, she looked so damn sassy she may as well have been clicking at him in a Z formation) and ran to the fridge. He closed his eyes for a second and let the cold air cool his cheeks off, but suddenly he felt hands on his waist as Blaine squeezed past him to get to the sink. He jerked forward and whacked his hip on a cupboard.

“Oh, wow, are you okay? I’m sorry if I-”

Kurt didn’t notice the drop in Blaine’s tone when he flinched. He didn’t dare turn around, even though his hip was throbbing. He tried to concentrate on the fridge.

“No! No, you didn’t, I’m fine. It’s fine. I just… I think I’m- we’re-” Kurt wanted to slap himself. Since when were they ‘we’? “We, you know, as a household, are out of eggs. There aren’t any eggs.”

“Well, don’t mind me; just need to rinse out what I can before I put it in the machine. Do you have anything that needs washing?”

Kurt swallowed again, hoping his heart would drop back into his chest instead of being lodged in his throat. He still didn’t look at Blaine.

“Yeah, I think I’ve, um, in my basket-”

“No problem. Just a second. Oh, and Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

Kurt’s voice was strangled and hoarse. Blaine laughed.

“The eggs are right in front of you.”

Kurt’s eyes landed on the box that was three inches away from his face and he let out a strained, slightly shrill laugh.

“Right,” he coughed, “silly me.”

Blaine ran upstairs to get the laundry, and Kurt took the box out of the fridge, closed the door and banged his head against it three times.

What is wrong with you? You are someone’s father. Grow up.

He heard a shriek of laughter behind him and spun around to look at Eliza, who still had one hand stuffed in her mouth but the other one was banging the table of her highchair gleefully.

“Well, I’m glad someone finds this funny."

It was anything but funny. It was an awkward, inconvenient nightmare.