"You okay?" Kurt asks, gazing down at him with the cutest frown of concern marring his face.

"Fine." Blaine nods. "Just a bit…" Words fail him to describe how he's feeling, so he makes a vague gesture with his hand. "You know."

Kurt evidently does, because he hmms his understanding and begins to slide his fingers slowly through Blaine's curls. "You don't mind me telling dad straight away, do you?" he asks finally.

"No, course not." Blaine smiles and butts his head softly against Kurt's hand to encourage the petting to continue. "I only wish we could be there to see his face."

Kurt grins. "I know, right? She's not even born yet, and you just know he's going to be wrapped right around her little fingers."

"Unlike us, you mean?" Blaine teases, because really, right now, he feels like he would do anything for that little girl, so he can only imagine how much stronger it's going to be once he's held her.

"You, maybe," Kurt says, and gives one last gentle tug on Blaine's curls before removing his hand and fishing for his phone. "I think it's fairly clear already where the discipline in this parenting team is going to come from."

"Oh hush, you," Blaine says, but he's grinning and knows damn well that Kurt's right. "Go make your phone calls. Just make sure Finn keeps it off Facebook this time; Cooper'll kill me if he finds out like that again."

"Don't you want to ring him now?"

There's a familiar mix of concern and pity in Kurt's expression as he looks at him. It's an expression that's becoming all too familiar every time Blaine's family is mentioned just lately. He knows Kurt doesn't mean anything by it, that it's just because he cares, but something about it burrows its way under Blaine's skin like an insidious itch.

Kurt would be mortified to hear that, Blaine is more than aware, and it's the very reason he'll never say anything. But none of this makes him want to claw at his own skin any less.

So instead, all he does is glance at his watch and shake his head ever so slightly. "I'll do it later. It's only just after eight in LA; he'll still be in bed."

Kurt looks at him consideringly for a moment, but much to Blaine's relief says nothing further on the subject. Instead he leans forward and presses a light kiss to Blaine's curls. "Okay," he says softly. Then with a quick glance around them, he adds, "I'd better head down there to use this." He gestures with the phone to illustrate his point.

Blaine nods. "I'll wait here for them to finish up," he says as softly in return. He could go outside with Kurt, share in the undoubted excitement that will follow Burt hearing the news, but given everything Claire will be going through for them in next few months, waiting for a few minutes for her is the least he can do.

And it's not even that long as it turns out. Kurt has barely disappeared around the corner before the door behind him clicks open.

Ever the gentleman, Blaine is on his feet by the time Claire emerges from the room. She's buttoning a pale blue cardigan over her matching sundress, and with her dark curls caught in a long ponytail, Blaine is struck suddenly by just how young she seems. It stirs an almost parental instinct within – which he knows is just ridiculous because he is only ten years older, but it's there all the same.

"Okay?" she asks before Blaine has chance to speak

Blaine nods. "Kurt's just down the hall ringing his dad," he offers by way of explanation. "Are you okay?" Blaine's reluctant to ask the question because how can she be, and what could he possibly say to make it better anyway?

"I'm fine." A faint smile crosses her face and, well, that's unexpected.

"You're sure?" There's a voice, one that sounds uncommonly like Kurt, at the back of his mind telling Blaine to shut the hell up – but he just can't seem to help himself.

The smile grows. "Yes," Claire says firmly. "I'm sure." She pauses then and seats herself next to the chair Blaine has just vacated. "I won't break, you know."

Unsure of exactly what to say or do in response to that, Blaine just nods and says, "Okay."

"It's sweet that you care," she continues, and looks up at Blaine with clear blue eyes. "It just shows me that I made the right decision."

There's a hint of a lump forming in Blaine's throat now and he silently wills Kurt to return, because any minute now he's going to be bawling on Claire's shoulder and that really wouldn't be appropriate at all. So with a hard swallow and a blink of his long lashes, Blaine manages a weak, "Thank you."

"You didn't have to wait for me," she adds then. "You must have people you want to call too."

That's an awkward question because they've kind of skirted around Blaine's family situation throughout the whole adoption process, and the last thing he wants is for it to affect their chances now. He could lie, should lie probably, but this is Blaine and there's no way he can do that to someone who is trusting him to raise their baby.

With a mental cross of his fingers, he gives a slight shrug. "Not really. My brother's in LA and he's usually in bed till noon."

Claire grins. "Sounds good to me," and just as Blaine thinks he's going to get away with it, she adds, "What about your parents?"

And there's a question Blaine's been trying to avoid for years because, really, what abouthis parents? "My parents are…it's complicated," he admits eventually, and then sinks back down into his chair. He's surprised when Claire covers his hand with her own.

"You don’t have to tell me anything you don't want to," she says softly. "But you should know, nothing you say is going to change my mind. We aren't our parents; thank God."

There's something in the way she says those last words that tells Blaine's he's not alone in his complications, and then he's forced to wonder why he's so surprised by that: she's nineteen years old, pregnant, and alone in New York, when the rest of her family are back home in Kansas. No half-decent parent would allow their child to go through that alone.

"Your parents are…" Blaine trails off, uncertain of exactly what he wants to ask.

Claire's smile strains a little but it's still there. "Can I borrow your answer?"

Blaine nods, laughs, and then turns his hand palm up so their fingers lace together. "Thank you," he says, and squeezes gently.

"You're welcome. And thank you, too. If I can't raise this baby myself..." She rests her other hand on her stomach at this point and something in Blaine's chest clenches painfully. "Then I couldn't ask for better people than you and Kurt. You'll make great parents; I know it."

"How?" It comes out a bit more croaky than he'd intended, but Blaine just doesn't understand how she can be so sure when he's plagued with doubts himself.

"D'you know what made me choose you guys?"

Blaine's intrigued now, because he's been asking himself that very question since they found out. Given how many times they were overlooked in the past, it's only natural that to wonder what made them stand out this time. So he smiles at her in what he hopes is an encouraging manner. It is, apparently.

"I saw you. That first day at the agency. Before we met in Belinda's office, I mean."

"Okay." Blaine's racking his brains to remember, but as he recalls they were more than a little distracted that day.

"I'm not surprised you didn't notice me." Claire grins broadly then as she adds, "You were too busy trying to get Kurt to rub your tummy at the time."

Blaine doesn't need to see his face to know it's bright red – he knows exactly the moment she's referring to. "You were in the elevator?" he asks, and then without waiting for a reply, says, "Well, that's not embarrassing."

Claire shakes her head decidedly. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about – it was a lovely moment."

Blaine's not convinced. A fact that is apparently written on his face, because Claire continues. "Your profile was great. On paper you made wonderful parents, and I might have even chosen you based on that. But it was that moment that helped me to decide on you guys more than anything else."

The heat in his face receding a little, Blaine asks, "Why?" because he still doesn't get it.

Claire's expression fades into one of seriousness. "Because, Blaine, if you and Kurt love this baby even half as much as it's obvious that you love each other, then I couldn't wish for anything more for her." She takes a deep breath then and the smile returns.

"Oh." It's one syllable and it's totally inadequate for the situation, but it's all Blaine can manage. As he struggles to control his emotions, he can't help but think that if their little girl grows up to be half the woman that her mother seems to be, then they'll end up very proud parents indeed.

As much as he loves his job, and the independence that being his own boss gives him, there are days when Kurt can't wait to finish work. Days that are full of clients who can't quite grasp that endless scatter cushions and beige walls do not a design scheme make. Days when he envies Blaine the luxury of working from home with only himself and a distant editor to please. Days when he wants nothing more than to head home, crack open a bottle of wine, and just relax on their couch – preferably in the arms of his husband.

Today has been very much one of those days, so when Kurt enters their apartment intent on indulging himself, there's no stopping the gasp of horror that escapes at the sight that greats him.

It looks, on first inspection, like they've been robbed. But then common sense tells Kurt that robbers tend to actually take things rather than just rearrange them. And this... this looks very much like someone has decided to see if all the furniture from their apartment could fit into the living room. Blaine's desk is currently obscuring his path to the couch, and frankly Kurt could cry. Instead, he shouts.

"Blaine!"

There's a clatter of something being dropped – that Kurt tries very hard not to think about – before Blaine appears in the door way of his office, pile of books in hand. Dishevelled is one way to describe how he looks, and it takes an extra effort on Kurt's part to ignore the slightly sweaty, tousled appearance of his husband's hair, and focus on the matter at hand – rather than on the things his brain is now suggesting might be a better idea.

"Hey, babe. You're home early." Blaine weaves his way through the various obstacles and deposits the books on their cluttered coffee table. "I was hoping to have this done before you got home."

Kurt raises an eyebrow at this and sweeps another gaze around the room. "Blaine, it's four o'clock. Unless you thought I wasn't coming home till, say, next Wednesday, I can't see how you hoped to have this done by then. And while we're on the subject," Kurt continues, warming to his theme now and trying to ignore the slightly despondent look on Blaine's face. "What is this, exactly?"

Blaine flops onto the couch with an oof and grins up at Kurt. "I'm cleaning out my office," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And really, Kurt supposes, it should be.

"I can see that." Kurt carefully navigates the bookshelf, a standard lamp, and an overflowing trashcan – all of which seem determined to block his path – and seats himself on the couch too. "But what is not apparent is why?"

Blaine runs one hand through his slightly damp curls and frowns. "So we can start on turning it into a nursery."

There's soft smile that crosses Blaine's face when he says that last word and it's enough to stop Kurt's irritation in its tracks – for a moment. "She's not due for another three months. You didn't need to move out quite this early."

"But we'll have to completely redecorate," Blaine points out stubbornly. "It's not exactly suitable for a little girl."

Kurt mock shudders. "I should say not." Then he reaches over and pats Blaine's leg gently. "We don't need to worry about that yet; it'll be transformed in no time at all. I've been working on a scheme in between clients, and I happen to have the phone number of the best painter/decorator in the entire state. You won't recognise the room once we've done with it."

"Oh. I didn't realise." Blaine rubs at his face and gazes around the cluttered room.

"What is it?" Kurt asks quickly – he's known Blaine long enough to know that something's going unsaid. The way he's avoiding looking at Kurt is indication enough.

"It's nothing." Blaine meets his gaze finally, but the expression in his eyes makes a lie of his words.

"It obviously is something." Kurt reaches out and takes hold of Blaine's hand to anchor himself - he hates when Blaine does this, when he buries his own feelings about something in a misguided effort to save Kurt's. "Is this about the decorating? Because I didn't think you'd mind – you never have before."

"This is different." Blaine's thumb is rubbing distracting circles on the inside of Kurt's wrist. "This is the nursery. Our baby's nursery. I just thought we could do it together."

"You mean like actually paint it ourselves?" Kurt sounds a little incredulous, because honestly the thought has never occurred to him.

"We don't have to, if you don't want." Blaine tries to tug his hand away from Kurt's and it's obvious from the expression on his face that he's trying to downplay how very much he wants this.

"No." Kurt tightens his grip on Blaine. "It might actually be fun." He uses his grip then to tug Blaine in closer, free hand sliding round the back of Blaine's neck, burying in his curls.

"I'm all sweaty," Blaine protests and starts to squirm.

Kurt's having none of it. "Just the way I like you," he murmurs as he closes the distance between their lips. Just as he's starting to lose himself in the feel and taste of Blaine, a loud beeping noise from the direction of their kitchen startles Kurt.

"Dinner's ready," Blaine says, a sheepish smile on his face as he pulls back.

Kurt swoops in with one last, hard kiss to Blaine's lips. "You'll keep," he says with a grin.

They get to their feet then, Blaine heading towards the oven, and Kurt to take one further look at the disarray their home is now in. "I don't think this is going to work."

Blaine comes to a halt halfway across the room and turns on socked feet. "We can arrange it any way you want," he says. "I don't mind."

Kurt shakes his head, eyes still roving over the clutter. "It's not that." He turns then. "You can't work out here, Blaine."

"I'll be tidier, I promise."

Kurt makes no effort to hide his laugh at this. "I'll believe that when I see it. But that wasn't actually my point. You need an office. You can't write a potential Pulitzer prize winner sat on our couch."

Blaine rubs at the back of his neck with one hand and smiles. "Actually—"

"You know what I mean." Kurt knows Blaine is about to point out that most of his first novel was written in their cramped studio in Brooklyn, but they didn't have a choice then. Now it's different. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before. All this time I've been so worried about what would happen if we didn't get a baby, I never stopped to think what would happen if we did."

Blaine retraces his steps, and in no time at all has his hands on Kurt's waist. "It's okay."

Kurt shakes his head. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Blaine just smiles and waits – he knows better than anyone just how rhetorical Kurt's question is.

"We have to move."

"Okay, this is far enough." After a cursory glance at its cleanliness, Rachel plops herself down on a nearby bench. Legs crossed, hands clasped over her knees, she looks up at Kurt expectantly.

Kurt, being much more discerning about where he seats himself, gives the bench a discriminating look. "I thought we were supposed to be taking a walk?"

Rachel gives him her best bitch, please look. Even after almost twelve years in New York, Kurt is satisfied to note that it comes nowhere near his own. It's enough to show that she's onto him though, even if Kurt has no plans to cave instantly.

"What?" he asks. The innocent face he gives her in return is one he's been honing since childhood; there are few who don't fall for its charms. Unfortunately for Kurt, twelve years in this city has fostered Rachel's inbuilt cynicism and given her natural immunity to it.

"Kurt Hummel," she says sharply, in much the tone Kurt imagines a mother uses to her wayward child. "Don't you play dumb with me. There are only two reasons you ever suggest we do this, and as I happen to know you haven't been shopping lately and thus have no new clothes to show off, that means you have big news." She pauses here with a self-satisfied smile. "Now spill."

Kurt smiles in spite of himself. There is something really heart-warming about how well Rachel knows him, even if it is a little irritating at times. "Fine." There's no point in dissembling further, so with one last reluctant glance at the bench, Kurt drops down beside her. "You got me."

"I knew it!" Rachel shifts eagerly to face him, the triumphant gleam unmistakeable in her eyes. "Tell me everything."

"I hate to disappoint you," Kurt says, and it's only a tiny little lie. "But I don't have any titillating gossip."

Rachel's expression drops and an all too familiar pout appears – this one has nowhere near the effect on him that Blaine's does, though. "But you said." She doesn't actually do it, but Kurt can hear the foot stamp at the end of her words.

"I do want to talk to you though." All thoughts of his pants now forgotten, Kurt shifts sideways on the bench and folds one bent leg across its surface.

"You're not sick are you?" Rachel clutches his hands in hers, eyes wide in concern. "Or Blaine? Or…oh, Kurt," she squeezes his hands almost painfully now. "Did something happen with the baby?"

Kurt's so busy being relieved that he doesn't have to find a way to introduce the topic casually, that he doesn't think before replying. It's only a slight nod followed by a murmured, "Yes," but it's enough to have Rachel drop his hands like hot potatoes and clutch hers to her chest with a horrified gasp.

"Oh, no." Kurt shakes his head quickly, realising his mistake. "Not like that; it's nothing bad, I promise."

Rachel heaves a sigh but still has one hand pressed over her heart. "Don't do that to me," she says faintly.

Kurt smiles sheepishly and takes a moment to appreciate her love of the dramatic. "Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's fine." Rachel shakes her head and lets out a nervous-sounding laugh. "It's just…" She pokes at his arm with one hand. "Don't scare me like that."

They laugh together then, briefly, and Kurt feels a flash of relief that things are still as they should be.

"So what, then?" Rachel asks after the moment's silence stretches ahead of them. "You can't just scare me like that and then say nothing. I know you had a meeting with the adoption agency yesterday."

"Finn?" Kurt guess, tearing his gaze away from a group of young children playing nearby.

Rachel shakes her head briefly and Kurt can't help but admire the soft, stylish waves that frame her face perfectly – New York has been good to Rachel Berry in more ways than just her career. "I rang your office yesterday afternoon; your assistant told me."

Kurt can't find it in him to be annoyed at Chloe for her lack of confidentiality. Mainly because he suspects that Rachel gleaned that particular piece of information after relentless interrogation – and to the uninitiated, Rachel on a mission is unnerving to say the least.

"What have I told you about harassing my staff?"

Rachel's pout comes back in full force, and this time it's accompanied by the puppy dog eyes. "She likes me."

"She's terrified of you."

There's a split second then when Rachel's eyes widen, her expression falters, and Kurt wonders if he's gone too far. For all her brashness and ego, Rachel can be surprisingly sensitive underneath at times. Just as he's looking for a way to recast what is undoubtedly the truth, Rachel smiles broadly, her emotions rivalling a weather vane with their changeability.

A playful slap on the arm follows.

"I know what you're doing, Kurt Hummel. Don't think that I don't. But we're not leaving this park until you tell me what's going on with my niece or nephew."

Once again Kurt doesn't bother to point out the lack of familial ties – for one thing, Rachel feels like family even if she isn't, and for another, Kurt's already seen Finn make much the same mistake on Facebook a few days previous – the flaying his stepbrother had received, albeit virtual, is enough to warn Kurt off the subject forever. Besides, neither he nor Blaine have sisters, and it will be good for their child to have a female influence – even if the prospect of what that might entail is enough to keep Kurt awake at night.

"So, spill then," Rachel demands impatiently.

Rather than reply instantly, Kurt holds out a small, pearlised box for her to take. Never one to turn down a gift, Rachel takes it eagerly. After tugging the ribbons open she stares at the contents in confusion.

"A cupcake?" She looks from the cupcake to Kurt then back again, as if to check she hasn't made a mistake. "Not that I don't love chocolate cupcakes," which of course Kurt already knew, "but why are you giving me this?"

"Just eat it," Kurt says, and mentally curses himself for thinking this would possibly work – Rachel Berry is the most stubborn of people he knows; there's no way she'll just do it.

But apparently he's either wrong, or he's caught Rachel on a very good day. Because no sooner is she told than she's peeling the wrapper off carefully and sinking her teeth into the moist sponge.

There's a moment's silence then while she chews – a rare commodity in any conversation with Rachel, so Kurt savours it.

"I don't get it," she says eventually after having swallowed her mouthful. "What does giving me cake have to do with the baby?"

Kurt sighs out loud this time. "Just look at the cake, Rachel. Really look."

With a dismissive toss of her head, Rachel does indeed turn her attention back to the cake. "I fail to see what…oh! It's pink. Kurt, why is there a pink heart inside my cake?"

A roll of Kurt's eyes follows this question. "Think about it," he says as encouragingly as he can manage.

Rachel's brow creases in frustration once again. "I don't get it," she mutters, more to herself than to anyone else. "A pink smile. Oh! Pink!!" She turns back to Kurt with wide eyes. "It's pink," she says. "Pink."

"I can see that, thank you, Rachel."

"Stop being obtuse." Rachel follows her words u with a quick slap to Kurt's thigh. "It's pink. Like, baby girl pink. You're having a little girl," she exclaims excitedly.

Hearing those words again, feeling his insides turn to goo at the very prospect, all irritation with Rachel vanishes. "We're having a girl," he confirms.

With rather a loud squeal, Rachel flings her cupcake to the floor and then herself onto Kurt. He's not overly impressed with the waste of food – the local birds, on the other hand, descend into a frenzy of feeding.

Kurt allows the hug to go on longer than he usually would – he's been feeling surprisingly benevolent of late – but eventually the threat of creasing to his clothes dictates it must end.

"I can't believe you're going to have a daughter," Rachel says finally, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "Kurt, I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you," Kurt says warmly, and means it completely. "Now enough about me and your shocking waste of food," Rachel glances ruefully at the few remaining crumbs of her cake, "Why don't you tell me what's been going on with you lately?"

All thoughts of the baby seem to vanish for the moment and Rachel's face takes on a surprisingly innocent expression. Kurt is not fooled. "Nothing much," she says with affected casualness. "Just busy with rehearsals really."

"Oh really?" Kurt arches one brow in disbelief. "Because a little bird tells me you were seen coming out of Sardis last Friday with none other than Jesse St James."

"And there's extensive closet space in the master bedroom." Their realtor casts a pointed glance in Kurt's direction as she says this – clearly thinking she's summed up at least one of her client's priorities.

And from just how wide Kurt's eyes go as he takes in the aforementioned storage, Blaine has to admit she's at least a little bit on the money.

This is the third weekend they've spent inspecting the best apartments that New York has to offer – or at least within their price range, anyway. The first two of which they'd been accompanied by an overly enthusiastic Rachel Berry, but when her tastes began driving their search into the Upper East Side, Blaine had politely but firmly insisted she be left at home in future – he wasn't sure his nerves or his bank balance could stand any more.

If he's honest, the succession of buildings they've seen have been much of a muchness to Blaine – save for location, there's very little to distinguish between them. It's just bricks and mortar at the end of the day; it's the people within those walls that make a home. And with Kurt and their daughter by his side, Blaine's pretty certain he could live in a shack with a smile on his face.

It's different for Kurt, though. And not because he thinks any differently to Blaine about what really makes a home, but because this is what he does, his bread and butter. The aesthetics of a property are as important to Kurt as the size, location – it's all part of the same whole. So Blaine is happy to just tag along, give opinions when asked for, and just enjoy the sight of Kurt in his element.

Only, he doesn't seem to be.

Spacious closets aside, Kurt appears more disenchanted with each passing property. And for someone who has been known to attend house sales just for the fun of it, Blaine knows for certain this means something isn't right. And if that hadn't been enough, the sight of Kurt inspecting the kitchen, listlessly trailing his hand over granite countertops that would usually inspire unguarded delight, confirms it.

Blaine turns to their realtor, who is currently hovering expectantly in the doorway. "Could you give us a minute?"

Her eyes brighten for just a moment, and Blaine thinks she smells a sale. He rather suspects she couldn't be further from the truth. She nods then and steps out into the hallway, Blackberry already in hand, and Blaine turns his attention back to his husband.

Kurt's come to a halt in front of the kitchen window, but it's obvious to anyone with eyes that he's not actually taking in the view. He's gazing off into the distance and there's a tiny crease of a frown on his brow that worries Blaine to see.

"Kurt?" Blaine steps closer and places one hand on his shoulder gently, so as not to startle. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Kurt turns, confusions written on his face now. "What?"

"You looked like you were a million miles away then." Blaine's eyes flick over Kurt's face, searching for any signs to tell him what's going on. "Anything wrong?"

"What?" Kurt's voice comes out a little higher than usual, something Blaine knows is a sure sign that he's feeling guilty or caught or trying to hide something. "No! I was just thinking is all."

"Oh." It takes some effort for Blaine to keep his tone as causal as he does. "About what?"

Kurt shrugs half-heartedly. "Moving. And whether it's the right thing for us to be doing now."

And that was definitely not what Blaine was expecting. Kurt had been the driving force behind the whole moving idea – Blaine had been quite content to remain where they were for now, but Kurt had been insistent it was imperative they moved before the baby was born.

"Are you serious?" Blaine asks incredulously – but one look at Kurt's face is enough to answer that question for him. "But I thought you were…" Blaine shakes his head, trying to clear some of the confusion. "What changed?"

Kurt turns his gaze back to stare fixedly out of the window at nothing in particular. "I just don't think we've thought it though enough. Moving's a big deal."

To say that Blaine's shocked by this remark is something of an understatement. Granted, there hasn't really been much thought put into it on his part, but Kurt never never makes decisions lightly, and certainly not about something he considers as important as their home.

Which means something else is going on, something that Kurt, with his tense posture and neutral expression, is trying to keep from him, and if there's one thing Blaine can't bear between them, it's secrets.

"What's going on?" The words come out a little sharper than he intended, but haven't they learnt over the years what keeping secrets can do?

Kurt turns round, all wide-eyed innocence, and he's good, Blaine will give him that. But thirteen years of loving that face – and the person attached to it – has taught Blaine to read it better than Kurt would like at times.

"Kurt." Blaine pitches his voice lower, coaxing almost, and he steps closer to hook one hand around Kurt's waist.

"Blaine." Kurt lengthens the sounds of his name in a sing-song fashion. That, and the faint curve of his lips, let Blaine know it's nothing serious.

"Stop trying to distract me by being adorable." Blaine leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together. "Now spill, Hummel."

Kurt squirms a little but Blaine simply brings his other arm into play.

"It's nothing, really," Kurt protests weakly. "I'm just being silly."

Blaine tilts his head slightly so their noses kiss. "Kurt," he says, borrowing his husband's sing-song method of a moment earlier.

"Fine." Kurt huffs and Blaine can feel the warmth of his breath on his own lips. "But not here." He pulls back slightly and shoots a pointed glance at the realtor, who is hovering with a poor attempt at unobtrusiveness in the doorway.

"Okay." Blaine lets his hand fall from Kurt's waist reluctantly with just the slightest wish that they were in their own apartment right now. "Let's get out of here."

And so they do. Much to the disappointment of their realtor, who really doesn't seem at all appeased by Kurt's promises of being in touch.

They walk without any real discussion of direction, but the Village has been their home for so long that every street has a familiarity to it. But it's no surprise to Blaine when they turn the corner into Washington Square Park. It's one of his favourite open spaces – an opinion shared by many if the afternoon crowds are anything to go by.

"Fancy a game?" he asks, with a nod to the chess tables as they pass.

He receives a glare for his troubles. Kurt is notoriously bad at chess – he doesn't have the patience and can't see the point. Blaine, on the other hand, finds it soothing. There's been many an occasion when writer's block has struck, and he's wandered down here to take on a stranger in the familiar battle of strategy and wits. Truth be told, Blaine rarely wins – he's a little too rash to play with any real finesse – but he enjoys it nonetheless.

"You're not funny," Kurt replies. "Now, go buy me a pretzel."

Blaine finds himself being shoved ever so gently in the direction of the food vendor to the left of the imposing arch, and is relieved to find that the majority of the crowds seem more interested in the street entertainers present than they do in the opportunity for food.

Pretzel in hand, he crosses the short distance in front of the arch to where Kurt has taken a perch on the low wall that runs on the other side. His arms behind him, supporting his weight as he leans back in the sunshine, he looks beautiful. Blaine could watch him like that for hours, but the pretzel's not getting any warmer, and Blaine isn't any further to discovering the truth behind Kurt's sudden change of heart.

"So," he says, seating himself beside Kurt and handing over the snack. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Kurt turns his head slowly to the side, eyes squinting against the glare of the sun. "It's nothing, really. I'm just being silly."

"It's obviously something, Kurt," Blaine points out, trying his hardest not to be distracted by the way Kurt nibbles on his food. "You were really excited about the idea of moving. I don't care how silly it is, I just want to know what's bothering you." He leans in and nudges Kurt slightly with his shoulder. "Please?"

Kurt sighs and lowers the pretzel to his side. "It's just…you know that job I was working on last week?"

"Taffeta woman?" Blaine asks, remembering only too well Kurt's diatribe on her lack of taste.

"Yes, her." And Kurt's nose scrunches in distaste. "She mentioned that one of her friends was moving to Boston to be near her grandchildren and was selling her house in the Village."

"Okay," Blaine says slowly – he's still a little confused as to where this is leading, but he knows better than to ask questions at this point.

"I went and had a look at it. I know we should have gone together, but it just sounded so good and it was right nearby and I couldn't wait."

"And?"

Kurt sighs again. Not a soft, gentle one. But a deep, sad-sounding sort of one. "It was perfect."

Blaine's brow creases with a frown of confusion. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"No." Kurt shakes his head vehemently. "Because we can't afford it and it's not what we decided we wanted anyway, and now all I've done is spoil every other home in this city because they'll just never match up."

"But if it's perfect, then it doesn't matter what we said we wanted before, does it?" Blaine wisely leaves the issue of cost alone for the moment.

"But perfect for me doesn't mean it's perfect for you, and I don't want you agreeing to live somewhere just for my sake. What if you hated it and ended up resenting me forever?"

Blaine suppresses a chuckle at this and doesn't point out to Kurt that really every home they've had since they've been together has ultimately been his choice, not Blaine's. Not that it matters, because really, apart from location and a roof over his head, Blaine really does have very few requirements.

"Well, why don't you tell me about this perfect house and find out?"

Kurt eyes him warily for a moment, almost suspiciously. "There's no point. Didn't you hear me? We can't afford it."

"Humour me."

Kurt remains silent for a moment or two, and Blaine can almost sense the internal struggle going on. Finally, he shifts in his seat, turns to face Blaine directly and crosses his legs in front of him. "Fine. Just remember you asked for this."

Blaine watches Kurt intently as he describes the house he's so obviously fallen in love with, and if the description alone wasn't enough to make Blaine agree, then the look on his husband's face would be.

"How much?" he asks finally, sure he doesn't actually want to know the answer, because if Kurt says it's too expensive, then it really is. But the idea of having an actual yard that their child could play in, having a third bedroom for any future additions to their family – it really is too perfect. And more than anything else, Blaine wants to make Kurt happy.

"Too much," is all Kurt says.

"Shouldn’t we both get to decide that?" Blaine argues stubbornly. "All these apartments we've been looking at cost a fortune anyway, and at least with this house we'd actually own it – it would be an investment."

"I've already done the math, Blaine. Even with your advance, we would still struggle to make the twenty percent deposit."

And with those words Blaine feels like he's caught a little bit of Kurt's sadness – almost like he's pining for something he's never had and never knew he wanted, but desperately wants all the same. "Timing sucks," he says, dragging one hand through his curls. "If it was next year—"

"I know." Kurt pats his hand gently. "It's not your fault."

"Maybe we should put off moving then?" Blaine suggests tentatively. "There's no real rush, is there? I mean, I know we wanted to do it before the baby is born, but it's going to be months before she does anything but lie in a crib all day long – how much space is she really going to need?"

"Do you have any idea how much stuff babies need?" Kurt raises one eyebrow at his husband in question.

"I know that." Blaine gives a dismissive wave of his hand. "I do pay attention sometimes, you know. I'm just saying that maybe we should wait until we find somewhere we know we'll be happy, rather than rushing into it for the sake of a deadline that's really not that set in stone. We could look at other houses, cheaper ones?"

"There aren't any," Kurt replies mournfully. "Not where we want to live. And neither of us is willing to compromise on that."

Blaine leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Then we'll keep looking. Something will turn up; I know it."

"My husband, the eternal optimist." There's a hint of sarcasm to Kurt's tone, but the warmth of his smile negates it completely.

"It's why you love me." Blaine grins smugly. "Now, how about I take you out somewhere fancy for dinner to get your mind off things?"

"Always thinking with your stomach," Kurt teases with a smile, and gives Blaine's tummy a light poke.

"Not always. I do think with other things sometimes." And Blaine follows his words up with a wink, just in case Kurt didn't quite get his meaning.

Kurt gives his arm a quick smack. "There are children about," he exclaims in mock-scandalised tones.

"Well, then," Blaine says, standing up and brushing off his trousers. "I'd better take you home where there aren't any."

Kurt reaches out and takes hold of the hand Blaine's offering him. "Not for long," he points out.

"Not for long," Blaine agrees, and then uses his hold on Kurt's hand to tug him in for a kiss.

"This is all very covert." Rachel bounces lightly on the sidewalk while Blaine hails a cab. "I feel like I should have dark glasses and a trench coat on."

Blaine glances over his shoulder with an indulgent smile – Rachel's love of the dramatic has not lessened any with age. "Your carriage awaits," he says, with a nod at the yellow cab pulling in at the kerb.

Blaine holds the door open and Rachel climbs in, smoothing her cream sundress beneath her. It's more than obvious to anyone with eyes that the not knowing is driving her mad.

It only increases when Blaine hops in beside her and gives the address to the driver.

"Blaine." The way she elongates the sounds of his name reminds him so much of Kurt that Blaine can't help but smile. And much the same as he does with his husband, he returns the favour.

"Rachel."

They could have made the journey quicker on the subway, or possibly by foot, but the prima donna in Rachel Berry does not allow her to travel any other way than taxi or private car. Usually it irks Blaine slightly, especially considering the unnecessary cost; however, it's unseasonably warm today, even by New York's standards, and he's rather glad of the air-conditioning.

Rachel pokes his side and as Blaine squirms, whines, "You know I how I hate secrets."

"Patience," Blaine chides in a calm manner he knows will drive her crazy – Kurt always reacts exactly the same. "We're almost there."

"Blaine Anderson-Hummel! You tell me right this instant, or I'll…"

"You'll what?" Blaine teases as she tails off.

He gets a loud huff in return and a face full of Rachel's hair as she turns to face the window with a toss of her head. "I'll think of something," she mutters.

Blaine just grins to himself and leans in to rest his head on her shoulder.

"I hate you," Rachel says, but leans her head against his nonetheless.

"And I love you, too." And Blaine really means it. Rachel's hard work sometimes, there's no way even he can deny that, but even her flaws are part of who she is, and who she is is someone Blaine loves dearly. For all her bluster and ego, Blaine knows there isn't a thing she wouldn't do for him and Kurt if it was in her power to give, and that's why he's trusting her with this.

"Here we go," the driver is saying after what seems like only seconds on the road. And as the cab eases to a halt at the roadside, Blaine momentarily mourns the loss of the crisply cold interior.

Rachel glances eagerly out of the window and then turns wide eyes on him. "Blaine, is this—"

"All will be revealed," Blaine says, as he hands a few bills to the driver. "Out you get."

Rachel exits the cab with more flounce than Blaine thought possible, and the cabbie meets his gaze in the mirror.

"Got your hands full with that one," he says, with a nod in Rachel's direction.

Blaine just smiles, then thinks of Kurt and wants to tell the driver he doesn't know the half of it. Instead he just says, "She's worth it," and clambers out into the sunshine.

Rachel, once again, is bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "This is Kurt's house, isn't it?" she demands, gesturing at the building behind them.

"I think the lady who owns it might take issue with that description."

"Don't be obtuse." Rachel fixes him with a glare that even Kurt would be hard pushed to better. "You know what I mean. This is the house that Kurt fell in love with."

Blaine's eyes widen slightly. He's not sure why he's surprised that Kurt told Rachel about this – they all tell each other far too much about their lives for it to be healthy – but he is. However, it makes the explanation process a whole lot quicker, and for that, Blaine's extremely grateful.

"He told you about it?" Blaine asks, as they clamber the steps towards the front door.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Of course. He rang me from inside going on and on about how he'd found his dream home and lost it again in the space of an afternoon. You know how dramatic he can get." She pauses then and turns to face Blaine, her nose scrunched slightly. "I'm surprised he told you. I mean, I said he should, but you know Kurt when he gets an idea in his head."

"It took him a while." Blaine produces a key from his pocket and quickly unlocks the front door. He pushes it open gently and then gestures for Rachel to enter.

She steps inside, heels clicking on the floor. "Oh, Blaine, it's beautiful."

Whilst he certainly doesn't share Kurt's passion for interior design, Blaine still has an eye for aesthetics, and Rachel's right. Kurt was right. The high ceilings, cornicing, wooden floors - Blaine can already picture them living here, the clatter of tiny feet along the hallway, and it just feels so right.

He shuts the door securely behind them and they make their way through the house, peeking into every room as they go. If he's honest, Blaine's really only giving the rooms themselves a cursory glance – Kurt loves them, and that in itself is enough; what he really wants to see, the thing he hasn't been able to get out of his mind since Kurt mentioned it, is out the back.

They head downstairs, to Rachel's delighted exclamations over the kitchen and its modern design - with its clean lines and granite counters, Blaine can already see Kurt at home there. Then through what appears to be a living room of sorts and out of the French doors along one wall.

As they step outside, they find themselves in a white-walled covered area with scattered rattan furniture to relax on. The yard extends beyond that, further than Blaine had imagined, into a long patioed area, dotted with plants and urns and various sculptures that could be easily removed to make way for sandpits and swings, and bike-riding experiments. And he knows then exactly how Kurt feels. How it will now be impossible to imagine himself living anywhere else.

Some of what he feels obviously shows on his face, because Rachel turns to look at him, a knowing expression in place. "You're going to buy it, aren't you?"

There's no point dissembling at this stage – he's already played most of his cards quite publicly. "I'm going to try."

They make their way back inside silently and climb the stairs into the hallway again. "Are we going up?" Rachel nods at the staircase curving elegantly upwards. "There are still the bedrooms to see."

But Blaine shakes his head. "I've seen all I need to," and he turns back towards the front door once again.

"You're really going to try and buy this place?" Rachel reaches out and touches Blaine's shoulder to get his attention. "I thought Kurt said it was too expensive?"

Blaine sighs, because this is a part of his plan that he's been trying not to think about until it's absolutely necessary. "It is," he agrees. "We don't have enough money at the moment."

"So you're what, planning to rob a bank?"

"If only it was that easy." Blaine raises one hand and rubs at his face, buying a little time before he has to explain himself.

And it is a little time too, because Rachel Berry certainly isn't famed for her patience. "What's going on, Blaine? Because we're not talking about small change here, are we?"

"When I was ten, my Grandfather died – my father's father, that is."

"I'm sorry," Rachel says automatically. But her face is screwed up in confusion and she adds, "But I don't see what—"

"I'm getting there," Blaine says, and gestures with his hand for her to stop. "He was rich, like obscenely rich – he'd built up his own law firm from the ground. Anyway, when he died, obviously most of his money went to my father as his only child, but some of it he left in trust for Cooper and me."

"So you've had money hidden away all this time?" Rachel demands incredulously, and Blaine can tell she's moments away from calling Kurt to fill him in.

"No." He shakes his head furiously. "I don't have it. It is mine, but I don’t have it yet. It's held in trust until I turn thirty. I think he wanted to make sure we didn't blow it on stupid things. Course, it didn't matter what age Cooper was."

Rachel's frown returns. "But you're twenty-nine," she points out, immediately spotting the flaw in Blaine's plan.

"I know." Blaine can't help but smile at her then; it fades with his next words. "That's why I'm going to see my parents and ask them to release it early. They're the trustees and I can't get a cent of it early without their say so."

"But you'll have to tell them about the baby, won't you?"

Blaine just nods, and his shoulders droop ever so slightly – this part of the plan still sticks in his throat.

"But I thought Kurt said didn't want to, that your dad would—"

"I know." Blaine hates to interrupt, but the last thing he needs to hear right now is a repetition of what he already knows he's going to face when he heads back to Ohio. "But it'll be worth it if we can get this place."

Rachel flings herself on him then, all arms and sniffles and teary eyes.

Blaine allows it for a moment – it's not like he isn't used to her outbursts. But finally he takes hold of her forearms and gently pulls her away. "You okay?" he asks, reaching in his pocket for a clean handkerchief.

Rachel sniffles and takes the proffered tissue with a grateful smile. "I'm sorry. It's just such a wonderful thing that you're doing, and I can't help wishing that I had someone who loved me enough to do that for me."

Blaine takes a step forward and presses a quick kiss to the top of her head. "It'll happen. There's always Jesse, right? How are things going between you two?"

It's a blatant attempt at changing the subject, and Blaine gives a mental sigh of relief when Rachel goes with it.

"I'm taking things slowly," she admits. "We have fun together, but I don't want to rush into anything just yet."

"Probably a wise decision," Blaine says with a slight nod – if even half of what Kurt has told him about Jesse St James is true then it's a very good idea. But the two of them keep returning to each other's orbit, so Blaine can't help but think there must be something at work there. "Kurt thinks you're avoiding him, you know?"

Rachel smiles sheepishly. "I might be, just a little. I love Kurt, but you know what he's like. He'll have so many opinions on it, and I just want to enjoy what Jesse and I have for now, without it being put under a microscope."

"Fair enough. My lips are sealed on the subject. Now, shall we?" Blaine nods towards the front door, key in hand.

Rachel casts one last look around the elegant hallway. "You're really going to do this?" she asks quietly.

"Yes." And Blaine's never felt more certain that what he is doing is the right thing, the best thing to do.

"When are you going? Back to Ohio, I mean?"

"Thursday. Kurt's out of town overnight at some design convention. I've had a look at flights, and I should be able to get there and back without him being any the wiser."

"You're not telling him?"

"No," Blaine says firmly, then fixes a look on Rachel. "And neither are you. I don't want to get his hopes up."

"I'm not Finn, you know," she says, her tone offended. But when Blaine continues to stare meaningfully she sighs. "Fine. I promise not to say anything."

"Thank you." Not that Blaine really thought she would – not deliberately at least – but it's still good to hear the confirmation.

They make their way out of the house then. Blaine locks the door securely behind him and then heads down the steps to where Rachel waits on the sidewalk. He's barely reached her before she's hugging him again.

"Sorry," she says, her voice muffled in the side of his neck. "I'm just feeling really emotional today." She pulls back abruptly then, dabbing at her face with Blaine's hanky.

He makes his way to the kerb and hails a passing cab.

"I could come with you," Rachel says softly, coming to stand at his side. "For moral support."

Blaine's heart swells just a little at the offer – it means the world that she would be willing to offer, even if there's no possible way he can accept.

"I'll be fine," he says, and tugs the car door open to let her in. "But thank you for the offer. It means a lot."

Rachel seats herself carefully in the taxi and looks up at Blaine. "You're not coming with me?"

"No, I'm going to walk back," Blaine replies, already shucking off his sweater. "I could use some time to clear my head."

"Fair enough." Rachel reaches out quickly and takes hold of Blaine's hand. With a quick squeeze, she says, "Good luck."

Blaine smiles back and says, "Thanks," as he slowly pushes the door closed behind her.

He stands on the sidewalk for a moment then, watching until the cab turns out of sight, before adding, "I'll need it."