Blaine takes a moment to glance away from the screen, his eyes beginning to feel the strain of an afternoon's frantic writing. It's only when he notices the dimming light in the room that he realises just how much time has passed. A quick glance at the clock confirms his suspicions.

Blaine stretches lazily in his chair, feeling the kinks in his shoulders. Kurt'll be home soon – maybe if Blaine makes a start on dinner he can persuade him to put those talented fingers to use. He just has to save his work first and then—

"Blaine! Blaine!"

There's a loud slam as the front door bangs shut and it's a good thing Blaine understands the nuances of his husband's tone so well or he'd be panicking by now. Instead, he gets to his feet and crosses the office, an indulgent smile on his face at the obvious excitement in Kurt's voice.

"Where are you?"

Blaine appears in the doorway just as Kurt is rapidly punching numbers into his phone.

"Where I always am." Blaine crosses the room and takes the phone from Kurt's hands. "Good day?"

When Kurt looks at him it's like someone reaches into Blaine's chest and stops his heart, because those bright eyes he knows and loves so well are blurred by a veil of unshed tears.

"Kurt?" Blaine doesn't bother to hide the way his voice cracks with concern. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Kurt chokes out a noise that's somewhere between laugh and a sob, and reaches out to grab hold of Blaine's shoulders.

"Okay, you're really starting to scare me now." Blaine runs his hands slowly the length of Kurt's arms, but before he has time to pull him closer, Kurt breaks the tension.

"The woman from the agency rang."

It takes a moment for Blaine to process what woman from which agency Kurt's talking about, and then the knot in his chest tightens as everything starts to make sense.

"Did she...? Is it...?" Blaine isn't quite able to finish the questions he's fairly sure he doesn't want to hear the answers to. They've already experienced so much rejection, but the pain of it never seems to lessen.

"She said..." Kurt pauses for what feels like a lifetime to Blaine, but in reality is barely long enough for him to take a steadying breath. "There's a girl. She's about five months pregnant and she can't keep the baby. I'm not sure why. But she saw our profile and she liked it." Kurt's hands are clutching tightly to Blaine's jumper now and he's practically vibrating with excitement. "She liked it and she wants to meet us."

It's like Blaine's been struck dumb. There are so many emotions rushing through him, all vying for supremacy, and Blaine has no idea just what he's feeling, much less what to say.

It's clear Kurt expects some reaction though.

"That's great," Blaine manages finally, and it sounds weak even to his own ears, so it's no wonder the happiness drops from Kurt's face like a stone.

"Great?" Kurt lets go of Blaine like he's been burnt. "That's it? Don't you...?" He breaks off then as a look of horror crosses his face. "Have you changed your mind?" The words are so soft, so full of fear that Blaine knows if hearts could really break, both of theirs would be in pieces on the floor by now.

He pulls Kurt to him instinctively, holds that too-stiff body so tightly that he's sure Kurt must be able to feel his heart pounding out of his chest. "God, no!" he chokes out. "I want this – with you – so much."

Kurt relaxes but still pulls back from the embrace. "Then what?" he asks, wariness written all over his face.

"I just don't want you to get your hopes up." The words are reluctant, and God knows the last thing Blaine wants is to be the one to take this away from Kurt, but they've been here before, and Blaine's not sure he can stand to see him broken by disappointment again.

A sad smile graces Kurt's face now and he takes hold of Blaine's hands, squeezing gently. "Hope's all I've got right now," he says quietly. "I know there's a million things that could go wrong, that have gone wrong in the past, but just let me have this for now. Please?"

Blaine's never been able to deny Kurt anything, not since the days of blazers and glee clubs and dead canaries, and he's certainly not about to start now.

***

"Kurt!"

Kurt almost spills the glass of juice he's pouring, such is the volume of Blaine's call. He places the full glass carefully on the counter. "Blaine, I'm in the kitchen, not New Jersey, and I'm quite happy having my ear drums remain in one piece."

Blaine appears around the corner, cheeks flushed, hair just a little askew, and a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry." Then he thrusts his hands out in front of Kurt's face. "Which one should I wear?"

There's a tiny knot of a frown on his face and Kurt has to resist the temptation to smooth it away – there's only one way that any sort of touching will end up right now, and Blaine's hair's messy enough as it is. Instead, Kurt pretends to ponder for a moment. "The blue one," he says finally.

Blaine surveys it critically. "You're sure?"

"It'll go much better with your suit than the green one."

"But you don't know which one I'm wearing, though."

Kurt picks up his drink and takes a sip before smirking back at Blaine. "You're wearing the one hanging on the closet door."

Blaine looks at Kurt, then back over his shoulder in the direction of their bedroom. "Oh," he says. "I didn't realise I'd already picked one out."

Kurt's grin gets wider. "Better hurry up and put it on. Coffee's brewed, and I can't promise I won't drink it all."

Blaine looks at Kurt steadily for a moment before reaching out and removing the drink from his hands.

"Wha—" Kurt doesn't get the words out before Blaine's lips are on his, warm and soft and promising a wealth of wonderful things that they really don't have time to explore right now. Kurt is exactly two seconds away from rolling his hips when Blaine pulls back, only to rest their foreheads together.

"It'll be fine."

"You don't know that." The words come out a little stiffly and Kurt pulls away, because Blaine should know better than to make promises.

"Kurt." Blaine's a little serious now, his hands firm on Kurt's hips. "Whatever happens today, whatever decision this girl makes, we've still got each other. We're already a family."

Kurt can't help but melt a little at Blaine's words – he's always known just the right thing to say – however cheesy it might be. Kurt allows a hint of a smile to grace his face. "I know," he admits softly. "It's just..." He falters then, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

Blaine reaches out and taps his mouth with a fingertip. "Stop that. If you want it bitten that badly, let me do it." He follows up the words with what can best be described as a lascivious wink and the last of Kurt's tension ebbs away – for now.

"I don't know what I'm worried about," Kurt says with a rueful smile. "You charm these women like you do me, and it'll be like Walton's Mountain around here."

"Or the family Von Trapp," Blaine suggests thoughtfully. "I bet I'd look good in a Captain's uniform."

Kurt finds himself agreeing silently and takes a moment to enjoy the mental image. "Hang on, how did I become Julie Andrews in this scenario?"

"You love her."

"Maybe so, but I'm certainly no nun. Although," Kurt pauses here and eyes his husband speculatively, "I may develop some very nun-like habits if you don't get that cute butt of yours in that suit."

Blaine's eyes widen and he holds out his hands in mock horror. "I'm going," he says quickly. "God, Kurt, don't even joke about that."

Kurt chuckles to himself as he leans against the counter and watches a Blaine-shaped blur move around their room. That threat never loses its efficacy, but he can't help wondering how long it will take Blaine to realise Kurt would sooner lose a limb than give up anything they share – particularly that.

***

"I feel sick."

"You certainly know how to pick your moments." Kurt watches the elevator doors close behind them with a sigh. "You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?"

"I can't help it." Blaine pouts just a little – he really doesn't want to argue right now, and Kurt's never been able to resist that. "I didn't feel sick earlier."

"You're not actually going to be sick, are you?" Kurt asks warily as the elevator lurches to a halt on the next floor.

"I don't think so." Although Blaine would be a lot more sure about that if they could just be at the right floor now.

"Do you want to see if we can reschedule?" Kurt's voice is low anyway, because they're not alone, but it's so small when he asks this.

"No!" Blaine shakes his head emphatically and immediately wishes he hadn't, the sudden movement doing nothing for his current condition. But there's no way they're turning back now – this is too important to Kurt, to them. "Besides," he admits reluctantly, "I'm pretty sure we'll have this problem whatever date we do it."

Kurt frowns for a second as he processes Blaine's words. But then it melts away to be replaced with the sort of tender smile that Blaine will never tire of seeing. Kurt steps a little closer just as the elevator begins to move again. "Are you nervous?" he asks, and there's the faintest hint of wonder in his voice.

Blaine nods his head slightly, but keeps his eyes trained forward for the moment – Kurt's always accused him of wearing his heart on his sleeve, and Blaine knows if he turns to look at him now, Kurt will be able to read every last fear and insecurity written all over his face. And Kurt has been hurt enough times by this process – the last thing he needs is to have to deal with all of Blaine's issues on top of that. So Blaine sidetracks.

"You know what would make me feel better," he murmurs, just a hint of wheedling to his tone. And once he's sure he's got his expression in check, Blaine tilts his head to the side and employs his puppy dog eyes with full force.

Kurt's face breaks out in a smile that Blaine hasn't seen for days and he shakes his head slightly. "I am not rubbing your tummy; we're in an elevator full of people."

It's hardly full of people, but Blaine can't be bothered to argue semantics. Instead, he pouts.

Kurt seems to be aiming for a stern glare, but it gets stuck somewhere around indulgent. "Baby," he murmurs – but the affection in his tone is clear for all to hear. "I promise if you're still feeling poorly when we get home, I'll rub your tummy as much as you want."

"You're the best husband ever," Blaine says in satisfaction, and then lets his head flop down onto Kurt's shoulder. The cramping in his stomach returns full force only seconds later as the elevator lurches to another halt and Kurt takes hold of his hand.

"This is us."

Blaine grips tightly in return, his eyes fixed on the smart offices beyond the elevator's doors – it's not the first time they've been in this building, but it never gets any easier. And the tension he can feel radiating off Kurt makes Blaine want to turn around and run until they're safe in their apartment – locked away from judging eyes and disappointments that break his heart just a little more each time.

***

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Blaine stares at Kurt incredulously as he closes the office door behind them. Not bad is so far away from any of the terms he would choose to describe the last hour of his life. He was fairly sure that he had single-handedly talked their way out of not just getting this baby, but any baby. Not that he'd done anything wrong, per se – but a nervous Blaine had a tendency to turn into a babbling Blaine, and it was at these times that his brain-to-mouth filter usually chose to fail him. "It was..." He groans and tugs distractedly at his tie.

"Fine," Kurt finishes for him. "In fact, I think it went rather well."

"Are you serious?" Blaine presses the button for the elevator before turning his attention back to Kurt. "I just rambled on and on." There's a ding as the elevator arrives – it's blessedly empty, so Blaine continues as they walk inside. "I couldn't shut up – why didn't you stop me?" Blaine winds up on a plaintive note before pressing his forehead to Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt's hand slides into the cropped curls at his nape almost instantly. "I didn't want to. I thought it was adorable. I thought you were adorable."

A vague memory tugs at the edges of Blaine's consciousness, but he's got other concerns right now. "I practically told them my entire life story. Our entire life story. For God's sake, Kurt, I told them about our first kiss being over a bedazzled bird coffin – I think they could have both lived without knowing that."

Kurt steps back slightly, though his fingers continue their dance across the skin of Blaine's neck. "Blaine, that girl in there is thinking about giving us her baby. Her own flesh and blood. I don't think there's a thing you could have told her about us that she would have considered too much information."

Blaine calms slightly at Kurt's words – maybe he does have a point – and a faint smile curves the edges of his lips. "Really? So do you think I should go back in and tell her about that thing you do with your tongue and the little noises you make—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll never do either again, I assure you." Kurt's expression belies the severity of his words and Blaine feels the last of his tension seep away.

"I love you," he says suddenly, and before Kurt has time to breathe, much less reply, Blaine's hands are cradling his face. He's just leaning in close, unable to resist the temptation of Kurt's lips any longer, when the elevator dings again.

Blaine mutters in disgust about being cockblocked by machinery, and he's just turning around to press the 'close doors' button so then can pick up where they left off, when—

"There you are! I was starting to worry that I'd missed you, or that something had gone wrong—"

Blaine lets out a muted groan at the sight of an excited Rachel Berry practically bouncing with excitement in the lobby. He gets a discreet elbow to the ribs for his troubles.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?"

Blaine can hear the way Kurt's teeth are gritted around the words – Rachel, however, has never been quite so perceptive, and he knows instantly that there'll be no tummy rubbing for him this afternoon. And then, with Rachel's next words, the prospect of rubbing of any sort in his future begins to look rather bleak.

"Blaine told me about your appointment," she replies cheerfully, slipping her arm through Kurt's and completely missing the daggers he shoots at his husband. "What kind of friend would I be if I wasn't here to help you celebrate?" Rachel pauses then, just a crack of self-awareness peeking through as she glances at both Kurt's and Blaine's faces. "It is good news, right?"

For all of her usual self-absorption and overbearing ways, Blaine can't help but love Rachel – especially at times like this. She means well, has a heart of gold – even if her actions aren't always the most appropriate. And as someone who has been guilty of much the same thing on occasion – according to Kurt – Blaine feels a strange kind of kinship with her. And if nothing else, Rachel Berry is living proof that he and Kurt aren't just living on false hopes, that, given the chance, two men are perfectly capable of fathering a happy, well-adjusted child – one who isn't automatically doomed to a life of therapy and dysfunction by virtue of his or her parents' sexuality.

With a smile at her uncertain expression, Blaine slips his arm though her free one. "We don't know yet," he says, and is pleasantly surprised to hear how steady his voice comes out. "But it seemed to go well."

"It did go well," Kurt says determinedly, and Blaine's heart aches just a little because he can hear how hard Kurt wants that to be true.

"Of course it did." Rachel's tone brooks no argument – not that her audience is so inclined. "You two will make perfect parents; they'd have to be crazy to turn you down."

If it's possible, Blaine loves her even more in that moment – for all her usual inappropriateness, sometimes Rachel seems instinctively to know the right thing to say. Impulsive as ever, he leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you." His eyes meet Kurt's over Rachel's head, and Blaine doesn't miss the faint sheen of emotion that lies there.

"There's no need to thank me for the truth, Blaine," Rachel says simply, and then she tugs on both their arms, leading them towards the exit. "Now, come on. I put our names down for a table at Serendipity earlier. My treat."

It's such a simple gesture, and not the first time one of them has treated the others to lunch in their favourite eaterie, but suddenly Blaine finds he doesn't mind the loss of his afternoon plans at all.

***

"Kurt! Have you seen my tie?"

Kurt walks the short distance from lounge to bedroom and can't help but smile at the sight of Blaine, on all fours, burrowing under their bed. Why he thinks Kurt would allow any of their clothing to reside there is anybody's guess. "You're going to have to be a little more specific than that." He settles himself against the door frame and just enjoys the sight of Blaine's rather lovely rear raised in the air. It's a struggle to keep his more lewd thoughts at bay, but he's been trying to get Blaine to pack all day, and if he distracts him now, Kurt knows they'll be flying to Ohio with only the clothes on Blaine's back. Which isn't a bad thing per se – the thought of Blaine sans clothing has definite appeal – but Kurt doubts his father or Carole will see it that way.

There's a sharp crack and Blaine lets out a muffled cry as his head (or some unseen part of him) connects with the bed frame. Kurt winces sympathetically, but can't stop his smile as Blaine shuffles backwards and reappears looking decidedly rumpled. "You okay?"

Blaine sneezes before he has the chance to reply, and Kurt is torn between horror at the prospect of dust bunnies, and the very real urge to kiss the look of surprise off Blaine's face – it makes him look rather like a startled puppy and is entirely too adorable.

"I can't find my purple tie," Blaine says plaintively, rubbing gently at the back of his head.

Kurt steps forward instinctively and tugs Blaine's hands away. He cards his fingers gently through Blaine's unruly curls, checking for bumps. "You'll live," he says finally, fingers still skating over Blaine's scalp, unwilling to give up the sensation just yet.

Blaine leans back into his touch and lets out a contented sigh.

Kurt smiles indulgently down at him and thanks whatever gods there might be that Blaine has long since given up his obsession with gel. "I wouldn’t worry about taking a tie," he says, tugging lightly on Blaine's curls.

"But it's Carole's party." Blaine's words come out mixed in with a groan – he's always had a weakness for hair pulling.

"Which Dad and Finn have organised. You'd be better off packing a flannel shirt."

"Kurt." Blaine's attempts at admonishing are somewhat spoilt by the obvious amusement in his tone.

Kurt doesn't respond – his fingers still their movements and he lets out a deep sigh.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad." Blaine cranes his neck round and peeks up at Kurt through those impossibly long lashes of his.

Kurt smiles faintly and leans down to brush a kiss against his forehead. "It's just...I'm not really in the mood for parties right now, you know?"

"It might be just the distraction we need," Blaine offers, a little hopefully. "Take our minds off things."

"Off what?" Kurt doesn't mean for the words to come out so sharply, but he's just so tired – of disappointment and failure and never quite being good enough. "Off how that baby, our baby is going to be raised by some normal, middle-class straight couple, while you and I are going to spend the rest of our days rattling around this apartment alone?"

"You don't know that." There's a crack of emotion in Blaine's voice, but right at that moment Kurt is a little too caught up in his own pain.

"Yes I do. And so do you if you're being honest. I should have listened to you in the first place – this was just a ridiculous dream."

"Hey!" Blaine turns quickly, or as quickly as his knees will allow, and grabs Kurt's hands. "I never said..." He tails off for a moment before giving a sharp shake of his head and ploughing on. "I want this as much as you. I just can't bear to see you hurting."

Kurt pulls his hand away, the gentleness in Blaine's expression too much for him to bear right now. He can feel it prickling under his skin and he just needs it to stop. "It's never going to happen. We need to face facts."

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's middle and tugs him closer. "You don't know that," he repeats, voice taut with suppressed emotion.

Kurt twists in Blaine's grasp, but it's a half-hearted attempt to free himself. "It's been over a week," he says, and he just sounds so broken.

Blaine leans in and nuzzles his way along Kurt's tummy. Kurt can feel the heat of his breath warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. "It's a huge decision for her to make, Kurt. It's bound to take some time."

There's a part of Kurt deep down that knows Blaine's right, but in the thirty years of his existence, life has conditioned him to expect the worst.

"Besides," Blaine presses a kiss to the sliver of skin bare between jeans and shirt. "If all else fails, we could always take Rachel up on her drunken offer."

Kurt tugs back on Blaine's curls and is relieved when a glance at his face shows amusement. "And risk us having a baby Berry?" Kurt demands with rather more horror than he actually feels. "I'd rather get a cat."

***

"You boys are quiet."

"It's been a long day."

Blaine shifts uneasily at Burt's question and Kurt's reply. He looks up unwisely and catches Burt's gaze in the rear view mirror – for just a moment it feels to Blaine as if Burt has seen straight through Kurt's lie and is holding Blaine personally responsible.

Then Blaine gives himself a mental shake. That's ridiculous. Burt has no possible way of knowing what is really on their minds, and he's made the flight from New York to Ohio enough times himself to know how tiring it can be.

Burt's not wrong though. They are quiet; have been all day. In fact ever since that conversation the night before when Kurt shone the spotlight so brightly on both of their fears, neither one of them has said anything much beyond casual conversation, as if they are both afraid of damaging the carefully constructed fa�ade of normality.

Blaine tunes out the conversation between Burt and Finn in the front – it's been some years since he followed the Buckeyes' progress with anything more than a cursory interest, and anyway, right now he has more important things on his mind.

Like Kurt.

Suddenly the distance of inches between them on that back seat feels like miles, and it's more than Blaine can bear. He reaches out and places his hand over Kurt's where it rests on the upholstery. There's a split second when Kurt doesn't respond, and Blaine fears he's misjudged the situation, but before he can do anything rash or panic, Kurt turns his hand palm upwards and laces their fingers together.

They still don't speak. But the tiny smile that Kurt offers him, and the gentle press of Kurt's skin against his own, is more than enough to soothe any frayed nerves that Blaine might have had.

The rest of the journey passes in comfortable silence. Blaine's gaze, like Kurt's, is fixed out of the window on the passing scenery. They don't come back to Ohio often – if it wasn't for Kurt's family, Blaine's fairly sure they wouldn’t come back at all; it's not like his own family offer sufficient reason to make the trip – and although it doesn't feel like coming home, because New York has had that covered for years, there are still fond memories here. After all, this is where he met Kurt.

As they near the Hummel family home the memories get even stronger, and Blaine can't help the hint of a smile that curves his lips as he remembers kisses and dates and holding hands, and that wonderful flurry of emotion that filled his stomach, still fills his stomach now, every time Kurt is near.

They're pulling to a halt in the driveway before Blaine realises where they are. He looks to the side, and judging from the yawn and stretching that Kurt's doing, he wasn't being entirely untruthful about his level of tiredness.

"Feel good to be home?" Blaine gives Kurt's hand one last squeeze before he lets go.

Kurt turns to face him, just the hint of a smile in place. "I'll let you know when we get there."

And, oh, Blaine understands instantly what Kurt means and can't help the dopey smile that covers his own face. Because whilst New York has undeniably been his home since the first time he stepped onto the tarmac at LaGuardia, it's different for Kurt. Although New York had been his dream first, and Blaine is in no doubt that Kurt wouldn't want to live anywhere else, he has ties to Ohio, a family he loves – one who loves him in return.

"You're an idiot," Kurt says softly, with a quick shake of his head. But the affection in both tone and gaze more than negate the words.

Before Blaine has the chance to respond with something incredibly sappy, probably but I'm your idiot, Finn has the door open at his side.

"Are you two getting out of there today? Or are you planning to revisit old times on the back seat of Burt's car?"

"Finn." Kurt shoots his best bitch glare at his brother, before flicking a wary one in the direction of his dad. Just like that Blaine feels seventeen again, and he can't help but laugh.

It seems the passing of years hasn't lessened the effect of that look on Finn, if his flinch is anything to go by. "Geez, I was only kidding," he protests, and takes a step back to let Blaine exit the car.

Before any of them have the chance to speak further, the front door swings open with a bang and what looks like a small human tornado comes hurtling down the path towards them.

Finn's son, Christopher, is three years old, and such a bundle of energy that he reminds Blaine vividly of himself at that age – which probably goes some way to explaining the mutual adoration they have going on.

Blaine drops into a crouch, arms outstretched, just in time, because Christopher flings himself on him heedless of safety with a cry of, "Unc' Blaine."

Blaine wobbles for a minute under the force of the impact – damn, the kid's grown since last time – and it's only Finn's steadying hand on his shoulder that prevents an embarrassing tumble.

"Thanks, Finn."

"He's been like that ever since he heard you were coming," Finn says, with a nod at his son.

"Is that right?" Blaine gets to his feet, child settled comfortably on his left hip. He turns his attention to Christopher, who just nods and beams from ear to ear.

"Hasn't shut up about Unc' Blaine in days," Finn confirms. "He'd sleep in that bow tie if we'd let him."

It's only then Blaine notices the spotty tie around his nephew's neck. It had been a joke present from Kurt on their last visit home, a humorous commentary on Christopher's mini Blaine tendencies. Which was a bit rich from him, Blaine had thought, because Kurt was no stranger to such neckwear himself. But Kurt had pointed out, not so delicately at the time, he would never be caught wearing one quite so colourful. As Blaine had already been eyeing the turquoise and pink number covetously, he'd had to concede that Kurt had a point.

"Don't you look very dapper," Blaine comments, giving the tie a light tug and wishing he'd thought to wear one himself that morning.

"Come on, you two. These bags won't carry themselves in the house."

Blaine turns then and spots Kurt eyeing from over the top of a bag full of gifts they'd picked up in the airport. "Uncle Kurt's a slave driver," he says to Christopher, and is rewarded by a childish giggle and a glare from his husband.

"Unc' Kurt's like mommy," Christopher replies in the manner of one sharing an important confidence. "You're my fav'rite."

"Oh yeah?" Despite himself, Blaine can't help the tiny thrill that runs through him at these words. "Well you're my favourite nephew."

Christopher's nose crinkles for a moment and he's clearly thinking. "I'm your only nefew," he says finally.

"Well, yes," Blaine agrees with a nod. "But you're still my favourite."

Before Christopher has time to puzzle out the holes in Blaine's reply, his mom's in the doorway calling his name. Blaine sets him down reluctantly, and can't help but laugh when Christopher looks from his mom to Kurt and then back to Blaine with a look that clearly says see.

"Go on, buddy." Finn gives his son a tap on the shoulder. "Don't want to keep her waiting."

Blaine looks over to where Kurt is still watching him, an expression somewhere between fondness and exasperation on his face. "No," he agrees, "we don't."

***
It's a hectic afternoon by anyone's standards. With Carole working the late shift at the hospital, her family seizes the opportunity to finalise last-minute preparations for her party the following day. There are, to Kurt's complete lack of surprise and not substantial chagrin, many of them to be done.

How there can be so much planning needed for what is, to all intents and purposes, a backyard barbecue, Blaine isn't sure. But he also knows better than to question. So he helps Finn move chairs into their new Kurt-approved places, plays kitchen assistant when he's finally allowed over the threshold, and folds more napkins than he thought existed in the free world.

All of which he has to do with the addition of a second shadow, who, in spite of his mother's best efforts, refuses to be more than a few feet from his Unc' Blaine at any given moment.

Burt, much to his initial disgust, and Blaine and Finn's envy, has been banished to the living room. It's been years now since he's had trouble with his heart, but Kurt has never been able to stop worrying. So on those rare occasions, when he gets the chance, Kurt still mothers his dad with such obvious care that Blaine knows Burt secretly enjoys it – no matter how much he may protest to the contrary.

Blaine has always loved the Hummel home – or Hudmel, as Kurt still insists on calling it. His own childhood home had been a somewhat stark and unwelcoming place, filled with a pervading sense of disapproval that was never actually spoken out loud, but hung heavily in the air nonetheless.

One of the reasons Blaine thinks he has dealt so well with his own parents' rejection – apart from their general behaviour – is that from the moment he entered this house as Kurt's boyfriend, he found everything he ever needed and didn't know he was looking for. In a short space of time, Burt Hummel became more of a father to Blaine than his own had ever been. The love and acceptance he found within these four walls took Blaine's breath away at the time – and still does now to some extent – and made this the first real home he'd ever known.

So despite the concerns that plague him – the adoption decision, how Kurt is handling the whole process, whether putting Finn in charge of the barbecue really is that good of an idea given his clumsiness – Blaine feels more relaxed than he has in weeks.

When dinner time rolls around, they order out. Carole's still at work, Kurt flatly refuses to eat his father's idea of food – especially with all the empty calories he will no doubt be eating the next day – and the rest of them are too damn tired to even think about venturing into the kitchen.

By the time the table is littered with empty Chinese cartons, and Kurt is busily haranguing his father over his fat intake, Christopher has fallen asleep in Blaine's lap.

"I think it's time we got this little guy home."

Finn nods his agreement but casts a longing look at the last remaining egg roll. After a meaningful cough from his wife, and a barely concealed snicker from Kurt, Finn gets to his feet. He crosses the room to Blaine and holds out his hands.

"Here, I'll take him now. Let you get some feeling back in your arms."

Blaine smiles fondly at the slumbering child in his arms and studiously tries not to think. "I don't mind," he says softly, but relinquishes his hold all the same.

Kurt gets to his feet then, too. "I know how he feels," he says with a nod at Christopher. "We've got a big day ahead tomorrow; I think I'm going to turn in, too."

Blaine glances quickly at the clock – it's barely past nine – but makes no comment. Kurt's been looking increasingly more brittle around the edges as the evening wears on, and Blaine has no intention of drawing attention to it. Instead he just nods.

"Sounds like a good idea," he says, getting to his feet and feeling the tingle as his arms slowly wake up. "I'll be up in a minute – I'll just clear this up first."

Kurt nods and gives him a grateful smile, then turns a slightly narrower gaze on Finn. "Make sure you're back here by nine at the latest tomorrow. I can't believe how much you two have left till the last minute, and you are not sticking Blaine and I with all the hard work."

Finn just nods sheepishly, much to his wife's amusement.

"You really have to teach me how you do that one day," she says.

Finn's eyes widen in horror at the thought, but Kurt looks like he can't think of anything he'd rather do. "It'll be my pleasure," he says, and leans in to peck a kiss to her cheek. He turns then and makes a shooing motion at Finn. "Now get that boy into bed, and Amy, we'll talk tomorrow." Kurt winds up with a wink that makes everyone in the room laugh, with the exception of Finn, who just looks worried.

Kurt scurries off up the stairs then, while Blaine and Burt hover in the door way to see Finn and family off. As the door finally closes on the cool night air, Burt places a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"You head off up to bed, kiddo," he says gruffly and gives a squeeze. "You've all done more than enough today – I'll sort that lot out." He nods towards the clutter of take-out cartons decorating the living room.

Blaine smiles gratefully, because now that the idea's been put in his head, he really is rather tired. He reaches up and pats his own hand gently on top of his father-in-law's. "Thanks." With one last nod, Blaine turns to go, but comes up short because Burt's hand is still gripping his shoulder.

"If there was something wrong, you two would tell me about it, right?"

Blaine turns back to face him and it's clear from the expression on Burt's face just how uncomfortable this is making him feel already. "Burt, there really—"

"I'm not blind, Blaine. And I'm not a fool, so please don't lie to me."

The denial on the tip of Blaine's tongue dries up at these words. It's not like he wants to lie to Burt, there's no real reason he can't know the truth, except that they've talked about this – him and Kurt – discussed it at length, and with the exception of Rachel who it's impossible to keep anything from, they've decided not to tell anyone else unless there is something to tell. It's hard enough handling their own hopes and dreams; they just can't deal with everyone else's on top of it.

He sighs then and runs one hand through his unruly curls. "Things are okay," he says slowly. "Well, not okay exactly, but it's nothing bad, I promise." Blaine gives Burt what he hopes passes for an earnest look. "We've just got things on our mind right now."

The tension visibly drains from Burt. "So no one's sick or anything like that?"

"We’re both as healthy as can be. Promise."

Burt gazes intently at Blaine for a moment, as if he can see the truth of his words written on his face. "Okay, kiddo. That's all I need to know. The rest of it is your business." He gives Blaine's shoulder one last squeeze before letting go. "Just…if there is anything…"

"You'll be the first person we tell." And Blaine means that, because if there's one person he knows they can count on, no matter what, it's Burt Hummel.

***
Kurt's already in his pyjamas by the time Blaine makes it up the stairs. He's perched on the stool at the dressing table, jar of moisturiser already in his hand.

Just like always, the sight of Kurt in this room, the d�cor and furniture barely changed since high school, causes the breath to catch in Blaine's throat. It might have been thirteen years, but right now Blaine feels like he should be wearing blazer and tie.

"That was quick," Kurt comments, barely meeting Blaine's gaze in the mirror.

"Huh?" Blaine's brain is still a little busy with the past to be able to process the present.

Kurt rolls his eyes, and wow, Blaine really does feel like a teenager now.

"The cleaning up," Kurt clarifies, then his hand stills mid-air. "You did do it, didn't you? Because the house will stink like a Chinese restaurant tomorrow if you didn't, and I don't have time to—"

Blaine crosses the room and places his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "Relax," he says calmly and lets his thumbs press into the knots he can feel. "Your dad volunteered."

Kurt gives him a slightly sheepish smile. "Sorry. I just want everything to be perfect tomorrow."

Blaine leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the top of Kurt's head. "And it will be. How can it not be with you at the helm?"

Kurt meets his gaze again and smiles gratefully this time.

Blaine can't help but smile in return and then just watches as Kurt smoothes the white cream over his face, his thumbs absently rubbing small circles between Kurt's shoulder blades.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?"

"Just thinking."

Kurt raises one brow. "Do tell?"

"Your dad's worried." The second the words are out of his mouth, Blaine wishes he could take them back, because any trace of amusement vanishes from Kurt's face.

"About what?" Kurt's doing his best to sound calm, Blaine knows that, but the brittle edge to his tone comes through loud and clear all the same.

The last thing Blaine wants is to worry Kurt when they've both already got enough on their minds. But if Burt's noticed then Carole's bound to, and the last thing Blaine wants is for her to spend her birthday worrying about them. "You," he says finally. "Or rather, us."

Kurt's eyes widen at this and the brief flash of panic does not go unnoticed. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"Of course not." Blaine lowers himself to sit on the edge of the bed behind Kurt. "But Kurt, he's not the only one."

Kurt turns round, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's that supposed to mean?" His body is tense, his expression closing off, and Blaine can see he's preparing himself for a fight, which is so not how he wanted this to go.

He reaches out quickly, taking hold of one of Kurt's hands in his own. It's slick with moisturiser but Blaine doesn't care – he feels like he's anchored now. "I'm worried about you, too," he says, and then holds on tightly when Kurt tries to pull his hand away.

"I don't see why." Kurt stills his efforts when it becomes apparent Blaine isn't about to let go. "You know what's wrong. Don't tell me it isn't playing on your mind too."

"Of course it is." Blaine shuffles forward until he's perched right on the edge of the bed – he feels the need to be as close to Kurt as possible. "You know that. It's just…you've been so quiet today, almost like you're not here. And you barely spoke to Christopher; that's not like you at all."

Kurt's successful at pulling his hand away this time and he gets to his feet. "I'm sure he was too busy having fun with his favourite Uncle Blaine to notice."

If he's being honest, Blaine is more than a little stunned by this response. He'd like to think Kurt wasn't jealous of him over a three-year-old's affections, but that's easier said than done. "Kurt, what's…is this about what he said? Are you je—"

"No!" Kurt shakes his head emphatically as he pulls the covers back on the bed. "It's not that. It's…I'm tired. Can we just go to bed?"

The last thing Blaine wants to do tonight, or any night for that matter, is argue with Kurt, so he just nods his agreement. "Okay."

In a matter of minutes, they're both tucked up under the sheets – but the silence that replaces their usual chatter is overwhelming. Just as Blaine is racking his brains for something, anything to say to make this better, Kurt does it for him.

"He likes you better than me."

It's said so softly that Blaine's not sure he heard him correctly. He reaches out instantly. "No, Kurt, that's not—"

"It's okay," Kurt continues as if he hadn't spoken. "I get it – you're better with kids than I am."

Blaine can't think of anything to say in response to this, so he just tugs Kurt nearer, until they're practically pressed together, shoulder to hip.

"What if our kid doesn't like me?" The words really are barely more than a whisper this time, and Blaine's heart breaks just a little as he wonders how long Kurt's been keeping that inside.

"That's ridiculous," he says, his fingertips tracing their way up and down Kurt's arm. "You're going to be an amazing father."

"You don't know that," Kurt replies, and he sounds unconvinced.

"How could you not be?" Blaine asks, his fingers now tracing their way along Kurt's jaw line before threading through his hair. "Just look at the role model you've had."

There's a huff of breath against the crook of Blaine's neck followed by the gentle press of lips. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"