"Is this really necessary?" he asks, fingers twitching at the edge of the fabric obscuring his vision.

Blaine, or at least he assumes it's Blaine, smacks his fingers away. "Patience," Blaine chides.

Kurt's not sure who he wants to smack the most right now: his husband, or his best friend, who he can hear snickering away to herself at his side.

"Is it left down here?"

And there's another thing that's driving him crazy – Jesse St James appears to be playing the role of chauffeur. Kurt's kept quiet about it so far – almost sixty seconds – and he's reached his limit.

Ignoring the fact that Blaine is responding politely to Jesse's question, Kurt demands to know, "What's hedoing here?"

He gets another slap on the hand for his troubles, from the left this time, so he lays the blame firmly at Rachel's door.

"Kurt, be nice." Rachel's tone speaks of dire consequences should he disobey. "Jesse's driving us – we're going out on a date later."

"And why are you here?" There's no slap forthcoming this time, something Kurt's infinitely grateful for – he's still busy working out ways to make her pay for the first one.

"There's no way I'm missing this," Rachel says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world – Kurt can feel her practically vibrating with excitement beside him.

"And what is this?" Kurt demands, his attention focussed more on Rachel than Blaine – she's definitely the weaker link in this chain of secrecy.

"Stop prying," Blaine chides again, but the amusement is obvious in his tone. "You'll find out soon enough."

"But I hate surprises," Kurt whines.

"I know, baby." Blaine pats his hand comfortingly, but Kurt is sure he can hear the smile in his voice – apparently it's true that losing one sense heightens the others. "But we'll be there in a minute. You just have to be patient."

"If you tell me to do that one more time, I swear—"

"We're here!" Rachel's excited shrill cuts across Kurt's words and effectively stops him in his tracks.

"Finally." Kurt's hands reaches instantly for the blindfold. "I was starting to think we were heading for Brooklyn."

"Just a minute longer," Blaine says, and Kurt is thwarted once again as his hands are pulled away from his face.

Mentally planning all the ways he is going to make his husband pay for this, Kurt allows himself to be guided out of the car. Hands he assumes to be Blaine's settle on his shoulders and turn him on the spot.

"Ready?" There's no mistaking Blaine's voice or the shiver that runs through Kurt as warm breath ghosts over his ear. Momentarily distracted by this, Kurt finds the blindfold removed before he has the chance to employ sarcasm.

Of all the many possibilities he's run through in his head on the journey over, none of them came anywhere near to what Kurt finds when he opens his eyes.

He recognises the house instantly, of course. Even after reluctantly acknowledging it would never be theirs, Kurt has struggled to let go. He's passed by accidentally a number of times – only the appearance of a SOLD sign a few days earlier finally curtailed his excursions.

There's silence in their group – which, considering who it contains, is nothing short of miraculous. Even Rachel, though practically vibrating with suppressed excitement, remains silent.

Kurt really doesn't know what to make of it all. Of course Blaine isn't cruel enough to taunt him with what he can't have. But even if the house was still for sale, there's no way they can afford it – so what the hell is going on?

Before he has the chance to speak, Blaine's lips are distractingly close to his ear again. "Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

Normally Kurt would address the waver of uncertainty in Blaine's voice, but right now he just can't think straight. "It's a house," he says dully, then pulls away from Blaine and turns to face him. "What are we doing here?"

Blaine looks momentarily thrown, but true to form recovers quickly. "I thought you might like to go inside?"

Kurt's on the verge of giving Blaine the verbal tongue lashing of his life when a glint of silver catches his eye.

Blaine has keys.

And he's grinning at Kurt in that oh-so-meaningful way that he does, which really means only one thing, but it's too impossible to be true and Kurt's not sure he can allow himself to think it even for a moment.

"It's ours?" he asks quietly, and even as the words leave his mouth, a loud voice at the back of his brain is screaming at him not to be so stupid.

"Near as dammit," Blaine says, and Rachel's not the only one bouncing with excitement now. "There's some paperwork you need to sign, and a few legal formalities to get through, but other than that, yeah, it's ours."

They almost tumble to the floor as Kurt flings himself on Blaine – only Jesse's steadying hand on Blaine's shoulder keeps them from meeting the sidewalk. Though, honestly, Kurt's just that happy right now he doesn't think he'd even care.

"I can't believe this," he gasps finally, pulling back a little and staring at Blaine with an expression he knows must still register the shock he's currently reeling with. "When? How? Why didn't you tell me?" Kurt stops again and gives his head a shake – this is all a dream; it has to be. But when he looks back Blaine is still holding the keys, still smiling, and they're still on the sidewalk outside his dream home, so Kurt finally allows himself to believe. "Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?"

If possible, Blaine's smile widens. "Once or twice. But something like that always bears repeating."

Returning that bright smile, Kurt winds his arms around Blaine's neck and tugs him in closer, capturing his lips in a kiss that is soft and tender and threatens to turn into something decidedly non-PG and really not suitable for their current surroundings.

It's Jesse's pointed cough that brings them back to the present, and as they pull apart sheepishly it's to the sight of Rachel whacking him on the arm and hissing "Idiot. That was just getting good."

For once, Kurt takes pity on him and doesn't point out his obvious embarrassment. He slips one arm around Blaine's waist and squeezes. "Let's go inside."

No one needs telling twice, apparently, and Rachel almost beats Kurt to the top of the stairs. Only almost, though, because Kurt's not above elbowing and the odd nudge to get his own way.

Blaine's only seconds behind him and Kurt steps to one side so he can open the door. Only Blaine doesn't. Instead, he holds out the keys and smiles. "I think you should have the honour," he says.

Kurt wants to. He wants to so bad. But Blaine, well, he would give Kurt the world if he asked for it – and today he's come pretty close – so would it really hurt to let him have this one small thing? "No," he says decidedly and keeps his hands by his sides. "You should. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you."

"Kurt, honestly, I don't mind. I know how much this means to you."

"Oh for goodness' sake." Rachel sighs in exasperation. "If one of you doesn't unlock the door in a minute, I'm going to do it myself." She reaches out for the keys dangling in Blaine's grasp, and that's all the motivation Kurt needs.

"Back off, Berry." Kurt feels his stomach do a little flip as his fingers curl around the cool metal of their future, and in no time at all he has the door flung wide and is leading the way.

"Let's go downstairs," Rachel pipes up. "I want to take another look at the kitchen."

Kurt turns to her, eyes wide. "When did you…" he tails off as he spots a sheepish looking Blaine trying to appear inconspicuous. "Co-conspirators, eh? I'm sure I should be mad at the pair of you sneaking around behind my back like that, but," Kurt pauses to take in his surroundings, "who am I kidding. Thank you." And he follows this up by dragging the pair of them into another hug.

"Kitchen," Rachel pipes up in the midst of the squash, and Kurt pulls back, eyeing her in amusement.

"I never realised you had such a thing for granite worktops, Rach."

Rachel just smiles and gives what she obviously thinks is a sly wink in Blaine's direction. Kurt can't help but wonder how the hell she managed to keep a secret of this enormity quiet for any length of time – she has the best of intentions, but discretion is really not one of Rachel's many qualities. However, he lets her have her moment, and follows without further protest as they head downstairs.

The champagne bucket and flutes waiting for them on the counter top are explanation enough of Rachel's eagerness. "You?" Kurt questions, with a glance at Blaine.

"Actually, it's from Jesse and me," Rachel says before Blaine has time to respond. And when Kurt turns to look at her, he sees her tucked closely into Jesse's side, holding his arm close, and she looks happier than he's seen her in a long time, so any slightly barbed remarks he might have been planning to make die on his tongue.

"Well, thank you, then," is all he says with a nod at Jesse that is returned instantly.

"Now, hurry up and get that bottle open," Rachel says, the usual officiousness creeping its way back into her tone. "Jesse and I have reservations at two."

"Well, why didn't you say?" Kurt's tone is heavy on the sarcasm, but as usual it's wasted completely. He turns instead to Blaine. "You definitely get the honours this time."

This time Blaine doesn’t argue, and moments later they're all clutching glass flutes full of crisp bubbly champagne.

"To Kurt and Blaine," Rachel pipes up, raising her glass in the air and causing a little to slop over the sides. "And their new home. May you both be very happy here."

Kurt relaxes into the snug hold of Blaine's arm around his waist, and can't help but think that if his smile gets any wider, his face may very well split.

"And the baby," Jesse adds, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Yes!" And there goes some more of Rachel's champagne – Kurt gives pause to wonder how many bottles she's had beforehand. "To Kurt and Blaine, and baby makes three!"

Her glass quickly drained, while others are politely sipping, Rachel places her flute on the counter – thankfully with a little more grace this time. "As much as I'd love to stay and share this wonderful moment with you, we have dinner reservations that just won't wait." She turns to Jesse and gives him a meaningful glance. Kurt is amused to see how quickly he deposits his glass on the counter also.

Then in a flurry of air kisses and promises to visit really soon, they're gone.

"Alone at last," Blaine says wryly, between sips of his champagne.

"I still can't believe this is ours," Kurt says, and he sounds almost dazed as he trails his fingers over the smooth marble. "I never thought…" He steps closer to Blaine and removes the glass from his hand. "You're amazing, you know that, right?"

"I may have been told once or twice," Blaine agrees, and his smile crinkles the corners of his eyes in a way that makes Kurt want to kiss him forever.

"How did we afford it though?" The last thing Kurt wants to do is poke holes in his dreams, but he has to be sure it's for real.

The smile fades a little on Blaine's face for a moment and Kurt immediately wishes he could pull the words back.

"I went to see my parents," is all Blaine says, but it's enough. The fact they have the house is indication of the outcome of the visit – the look in Blaine's eyes is a sign of what it cost to get there.

"I love you so much." Kurt doesn't even wait for Blaine to reply before he's pulling him close and kissing every available inch of his face. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you."

"You just got lucky I guess." The teasing tone in Blaine's voice is a firm indicator that he doesn't want to take that conversation any further, so Kurt rolls with it.

"You're going to get a whole lot luckier tonight, let me tell you."

"Why wait till tonight? We've got a entire new house to christen."

"No time," Kurt says, pulling back with a shake of his head. "I need to start measuring up, and planning colour schemes, and we'll need to get new furniture." Kurt pauses and takes a deep breath. "We've got less than a month until the baby is due; there's no way we're going to be ready in time."

Blaine smiles his infuriatingly calm smile. "It'll be fine," he says, and presses a kiss to the tip of Kurt's nose. "I've got plenty of people lined up to help us move. And you always did say Finn would be good for moving furniture."

"You didn't tell me he'd be here." Finn glares at Blaine over the dresser they're currently manhandling upstairs.

Blaine casts a quick glance around, looking for the apparent stranger Finn finds so offensive. He sees nothing. "Who?" he asks finally, face scrunched in confusion.

"Jesse St James," Finn hisses, and takes his eye off the task at hand long enough to clip the nearest door frame.

"Watch that paintwork, Finn!"

Finn looks surprised that Kurt is able to identify him as the culprit from another room. Blaine is not. "Sorry," he shouts in the direction of the hallway – it's much easier to just agree with Kurt when he's stressed, and moving house certainly seems to cause that. Then he turns back to Finn. "I never thought to mention it to be honest. I didn't realise it would be a big deal."

"Well, it is." The sound of Rachel's laughter from the next room just causes the scowl on Finn's face to deepen.

Finally settling the dresser down in its Kurt-ordained spot in their bedroom, Blaine looks at Finn warily. "Is this about Rachel?" he asks tentatively, feeling he's about to get involved in a situation he'd very much like to avoid, however fond of giving advice he might be.

"What?" Finn drops his end of the dresser down a little sharply, and there's a moment where they both hold their breaths waiting for Kurt's admonishment. When it doesn't come, Finn turns to him, wide-eyed. "Why would you say that?"

Blaine shrugs. "I know there's history there, between the three of you; Kurt told me what he did. But that was years ago, and you and Rachel haven't been together for a long time."

Finn just stares back at him for what feels like the longest time, and a knot of worry forms in Blaine's belly that he might have caused offence. Finally, Finn lets out a sigh. "Me and Rachel were together for a long time; I just don't want to see her get hurt by him again. He's an ass. But I love my wife."

Blaine holds up his hands in a placating manner. "Fair enough. I never meant to cause offence, and I'm sorry we didn't tell you he was going to be here. If it's any consolation I don't think Kurt was too keen on it, but we need all the help we can get."

"No worries." Finn rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. "I'll just try and stay out of his way."

"When you two are quite finished gossiping like old women." Kurt bursts into the room, clipboard in hand, and glares at them both meaningfully. "Finn, go downstairs and help. There's a pile of furniture that needs to go into the dining room – here's the map of where it all needs to go." He tears the top sheet off his pad and waves it at Finn with a flourish. Finn takes it with a look of deep confusion and Blaine struggles to keep a straight face.

"I don't know what you're smiling about." Kurt turns to Blaine now, gesturing with his pen. "I need you to go down to the kitchen and stop Dad from lifting anything heavier than a mug of coffee. I know he wants to help, but I've got enough on my plate organising this without worrying whether my father's going to give himself a heart attack moving the patio furniture."

Blaine just nods his agreement. He knows that what's driving Kurt's behaviour today is a desire to make everything perfect – for them – so he can't find it in himself to do anything else. Finn, on the other hand, now has a slightly mutinous expression on his face.

Blaine gives him a slap on the shoulder. "Come on then, I guess there's no peace for the wicked." And with the application of a little gentle pressure, he steers Finn towards the door.

"But I don't see why I have to do all the heavy lifting," Finn mutters. "I'm not—"

Blaine cuts him off with a nudge as they exit the room – he doesn't have to see Kurt to know he's working himself up to another tirade in response to his brother's complaints. "It's fine," he murmurs. "We'll head down to the kitchen. I snuck a few beers in the fridge earlier; they should be nice and cold by now."

Finn turns to him with an almost adoring look. "Dude," he says, and raises his fist for a bump. Blaine's a proper gentleman and doesn't want to leave him hanging, so he obliges in return.

"Blaine Anderson-Hummel! Don't think I didn't hear that."

The sound of Kurt's shout follows them as they head down the stairs, but since he doesn't actually forbid it, Blaine figures they're good.

Carole's busily arranging the kitchen cupboards when they get down there, and she seems so happy in her work – humming to herself – that Blaine hasn't the heart to point out that Kurt will only rearrange it to his tastes after she's done. But then he spots her referring to a sheet with very familiar handwriting on it, and he can't help smiling to himself – Kurt really is leaving nothing to chance.

Blaine gives her a quick smile and then glances round for Burt – he spots him outside eyeing up the aforementioned patio furniture – and heads out to join him.

As the patio door slides back, Burt looks up guiltily and holds up his hands. "I wasn't going to move anything."

Blaine grins at him because he's known Burt Hummel long enough to know how he works. "Really?"

Burt crosses his arms over his chest and huffs, and in that moment the resemblance between father and son strikes Blaine forcefully. "Well, maybe I was thinking that this chair would look better over there. Get a bit more sunshine on it." He pauses then and looks at Blaine hopefully. "Want to give me a hand shifting it?"

"More than my life's worth," Blaine replies. "Yours too, for that matter."

Blaine's relieved when Burt just laughs ruefully and doesn't take offence. Sure he's had years of Kurt giving him endless strictures on what he can and can't do, but Blaine's never really felt comfortable doing it – he's not his father, after all.

"You may have a point there," Burt agrees. "Kurt would know even without seeing – I swear that kid has eyes in the back of his head. And Carole's nearly as bad," he finishes up with a nod towards the kitchen where his wife is still merrily organising.

There's silence then for a moment as both men take in their surroundings – this is still by far Blaine's favourite part of the house.

"Nice spot you've got here," Burt says after a moment. "Reckon you could get a pretty decent barbecue in that bit at the back there."

Blaine hmms in response and then adds, "I was thinking of putting a sandpit down there."

"Probably more appropriate," Burt agrees. "Kurt's never been a big fan of barbecues anyway."

They fall into silence again. It's comfortable enough, but Blaine can't help thinking that there's something going unsaid. And then, it isn't.

"So, Kurt tells me you went back to see your folks. How was it?"

Blaine tenses. This is definitely not a subject he wants to discuss – even Kurt had practically had to prise the details of his trip out of him. But this is Burt Hummel, a man Blaine idolises, and there really is no polite way he can tell him to mind his own business. So instead, he shrugs. "You know."

Burt nods. "I've a fair idea. Rather hear it from you though."

Blaine gives a sigh and sinks down into one of the rattan chairs – it's a lot comfier than it looks. He rubs one hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts and buy himself some time. "My dad," he starts finally. "He's not like you, you know?"

Burt does know. Blaine's let enough titbits of his family life slip over the years that he'd be hard pushed not to. "It took a lot of guts going there. You didn't have to."

"But I did have to." Blaine sits bolt upright in his seat now, feeling something like anger build within him. These last few weeks he's tucked his feelings away safe, to be examined at a much later date, but Burt seems intent on that being now. "They're my parents," he says bitterly. "What does it say about them that people call be brave just for visiting them?"

Burt takes off his hat and scratches his head. "I don't know, kid. I wish I did."

"It's not even that he doesn't love me." Blaine rakes one hand through his hair, undoubtedly messing his hair even further. "I know he does, somewhere, deep under all the ignorance and fear. But it's just not enough, is it?"

Burt steps a little closer and rests one hand heavily on Blaine's shoulder. "He say something to you?"

Blaine makes no attempt to contain the bitter laugh that follows. "When doesn't he?" Then he shakes his head to clear the feelings away; he doesn't want to become consumed by them. It would just be giving his father more control over his life than he deserves. "I don't know why I'm surprised. He made his feelings about us having children very clear last Thanksgiving. I knew he didn't agree with it, but I just thought… Now it's actually happening, you know?"

"Maybe once she's born?" Burt squeezes his shoulder firmly and Blaine's is grateful for the grounding touch.

"No, I don't think so. Maybe Mum, but not Dad. And even if he did, I'm not sure I'd want someone around her that will always make her feel just a little bit less worthwhile than everyone else."

Neither one of them draws attention to the fact that Blaine's really talking far more about himself than his unborn child – but it doesn't have to be verbally acknowledged for each of them to know the other is thinking it.

"I don't know what to tell you," Burt admits, reluctance clear in his voice. "The man's an ass; I've thought so for a long time. Look, Blaine, I know I'm not your father, but I love you just as much as if you were my own kid. I'm proud of you, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have raising my granddaughter."

Blaine doesn't even bother to hide the tears in his eyes as he looks up at Burt. It takes a moment or two for him to get his emotions under control before he can speak. When he does finally manage it, it's to say a very shaky, "Thank you." Followed by an equally emotional, "That means the world to me."

"Come here." Burt smiles at him warmly, arms open wide, and his meaning's unmistakeable.

Blaine doesn't need telling twice. He's an incredibly tactile person, and yes he has Kurt for touches and kisses and that kind of physical intimacy, but this is different. This is something he's been starved of from his own family for a long time. He scrambles out of his chair and all but throws himself into Burt's arms. They may not share DNA, but if the whole adoption process has taught Blaine anything, it's that biology does not make a parent – and Burt Hummel is the only real father he's ever known.

"I really don't see why we have to go to this," Burt grumbles, and fidgets as Carole adjusts his tie. She shoots him a warning look and he stills instantly.

"It's Rachel's opening night, Dad," Kurt says with the tone of one who has been over this numerous times. "It's a big deal for her."

"We want to show our support, Burt," Carole chips in. "She might not be with Finn anymore, but Rachel's practically family."

"I just thought we could spend our last night together."

"And we will," Kurt says. "We've got seats right next to each other."

"Not what I meant," Burt says gruffly. "We don't get to see nearly enough of you and Blaine, and it would be nice to spend our last night here with you, not in some dark theatre, dressed up like a dog's dinner." Burt finished up by running one finger under the collar of his shirt and tugging pointedly.

A gently slap from Carole to his hand put a stop to that. "We'll be back before you know it. There are only a few weeks until the baby's due. Besides, Finn can't keep running the shop on his own."

"I guess." Burt reluctantly slips his arms into the jacket his wife is holding out for him. "Still don't see why we have to wear these fancy clothes." He turns to Kurt. "No kilt this evening?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "That was one time, thirteen years ago. Let it go, Dad."

Burt chuckles and turns away, muttering something under his breath about Tony Orlando.

"Well, I think it's a great idea," Carole says, and does a little twirl in front of them. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," Blaine replies instantly, and takes her hand to kiss.

Carole laughs girlishly, a flush on her cheeks, and Kurt has to resist the temptation to roll his eyes. Blaine has always been quite the charmer, and it's definitely a skill that's growing with age.

"You look lovely, Carole," Kurt says, and he really does mean it. Her outfit is not quite what he would have chosen for her, but it's flattering, age-appropriate, and there's not a hint of stonewash denim in sight.

"I can see I'm going to have to keep my eye on you tonight," Burt says, moving closer and slipping an arm around his wife's waist. "Don't want any of these city blokes getting any ideas."

Kurt shakes his head at his father's antics before turning to Blaine. "Did you book the cab?" he asks, with a glance at the clock. "I'll never hear the end of it if we're late."

"Relax," Blaine says, handing Carole her wrap. "It'll be here any minute, I'm sure."

"You boys won't be able to do this for much longer," Burt says suddenly. "Once that baby's here it'll be diaper changes and night feeds for you both – none of this Broadway malarkey."

"Yes, thank you, Dad. We're well aware of that." Kurt turns to Blaine with a small smile. "And it's more than worth the sacrifice."

Blaine returns the smile, and says, "Absolutely."

Burt smiles at Kurt then and gives a gentle pat to his shoulder. "It really is," he agrees.

The loud honk of a horn shatters the moment. "Taxi's here," Carole announces quite unnecessarily.

"Come on, let's go." Kurt chivvies. "Have you all got everything you need? Because we're not turning back."

"We're good to go, Kurt, now stop panicking." Burt places one hand in the small of his wife's back and guides her towards the door.

Kurt turns to Blaine and finds him standing there smiling back at him. "Ready to enjoy one of our last nights of freedom?" he asks, offering his arm.

"Definitely." Kurt gives a decisive nod – he may not have followed his original dream onto Broadway, but his love for it hasn't lessened any. "Shall we?"

They link arms and head towards the door. It takes a moment of shuffling to get them both out of it without letting go, but soon they are on the top step, Blaine turning to lock the door behind them.

Just as the key turns, the phone begins to ring shrilly in the hallway behind them. Blaine pauses and looks to Kurt in question.

"Leave it." Kurt gives a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's probably Rachel demanding to know where we are."

Blaine bites uncertainly on his bottom lip – a habit Kurt has no intention of ever trying to cure him off; it does wonderful things to his insides. "I should probably get it, just in case."

Kurt shakes his head as he watches Blaine reopen the door and head into the hallway – it's like Blaine's manners won't allow him to leave the call unanswered.

It's a relatively short conversation; for that, Kurt is glad. He wasn't kidding when he said Rachel would throw a fit if they were late. He loves her dearly, but no one can throw a tantrum quite like that girl. But when Blaine steps back outside and his hand is rather obviously trembling as he closes the door, Kurt feels his chest clench in panic.

"Blaine? What is it?"

Blaine turns to him, eyes wide with something Kurt can't quite get a reading on. "It's the baby," he says hoarsely.

Kurt feels like someone has reached into his chest and ripped out several vital organs. He grabs hold of Blaine's hands tightly. "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

"Is everything all right, you two?" Burt calls from the sidewalk.

"Not now, Dad," Kurt replies shortly, but his eyes remain fixed on Blaine's the whole time. "Tell me," he demands.

"The baby's coming," Blaine says after what feels like the longest wait in the entirety of Kurt's life. "That was Belinda – Claire's gone into labour."

A breath Kurt didn't realise he'd been holding rushes out of him with a whoosh. "Are you joking?" he demands, tugging on Blaine's hand as he does so. "Because that's not even funny, Blaine. She's not due for at least another two weeks, and who knows what kind of complications that could lead to." He pauses then for a deep breath. "You're joking, right?"

But Blaine shakes his head. "Not joking," he murmurs, and pulls Kurt in close. "We're about to become parents."

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Kurt pulls back from Blaine, gesturing wildly with his hands. "It's too soon. It can't be happening. We have to get to the hospital right now; what if something happens and we're not there?"

"That won't happen," Blaine says, placing his hands on Kurt's shoulders and then smoothing them down his arms. "They've only just taken her in. We've got ages yet."

"Blaine? Kurt? Is everything okay?" Carole is standing at the bottom of the steps watching them both warily.

"The baby's coming," Blaine tells her with a dopey grin on his face that kind of makes Kurt want to shake him, because it's too early.

"Well, what the hell are you standing around for then?" Burt hollers through the open cab window. "Get in; we've got a hospital to get to."

Just a little dazed, Kurt lets himself be led down the steps and into the cab. It's only when the door slams shut behind them that he comes back to his surroundings. "Maybe we should get you two another cab," he says, looking between his Dad and Carole. "We're going to have to head to the hospital first, and you might miss the start."

Burt huffs loudly and looks at his son in disbelief. "If you think I'm going to sit watching some fancy show while my granddaughter's being born, you've lost your mind." He shifts in his seat then. "Driver, we need to get to the hospital, fast. Which one is it?" he demands, turning back to them.

"Beth Israel," Blaine answers promptly, which is a good thing because Kurt suddenly realises he can't remember—it's like the news has wiped the ability to think from his mind.

Burt finishes his instructions and then they're off. Fortunately rush hour traffic is over, and though it's still reasonably busy, they move at a fair pace, and the hospital is not that far. Kurt spends the journey gripping Blaine's hands so tightly that his knuckles turn almost white, and he stares out of the window – afraid to make eye contact with anyone lest his emotions overtake him. And all the while he finds himself praying to a god he doesn't believe in, because there's no way anyone would be so cruel as to let them get this close only to snatch it all away.

A hand on his knee and a soft voice calling his name penetrate Kurt's mind eventually. Carole is watching him carefully, a faint smile on her face. It's only then that he remembers she's a nurse; she'll know.

"It's too soon," is all he says, but it's enough.

Carole squeezes his knee. "Oh honey, everything will be fine. Babies are born a bit early all the time – never does them any harm. Finn was almost a month early and look at him now."

"Really?" Kurt asks, because he doesn't quite think he could bear it if she was just saying that to make him feel better.

"Really," Carole replies.

That word causes the tension to flee from Kurt's body – well, most of it anyway. He leans further into Blaine's side, then takes their clasped hands and raises it to his lips for a kiss. "It's going to be okay," he murmurs.

"It really is," Blaine agrees, and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

Blaine can't remember a moment in his life when he's felt this terrified. Not coming out to his parents, finally acting on his feelings for Kurt, not even his pre-wedding nerves compared to the gut-wrenching fear he feels right now.

Because one false move, one trip, one anything, and the consequences for the tiny, precious bundle he's currently holding don't bear thinking about.

Kurt's hovering by his side – alternating between excitement, nerves, and sheer adoration – as they make their way into the waiting room, where they know two very impatient grandparents await.

As if to bear out the truth of that, Burt's on his feet before they've even made their way through the door. They walk slowly into the room – Blaine genuinely is worried about dropping her; he can't even begin to imagine how Finn managed this and kept Christopher intact.

"Is everything okay?" Burt glances nervously from the baby to Blaine and then over to Kurt.

Blaine's unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter – his daughter – for more than a second, gazes back down at her and murmurs, "She's perfect. Ten tiny little fingers and ten tiny little toes."

"She has thumbs too," Kurt points out, as a perfect little hand wraps around his finger.

"Hush you," Blaine says, and leans down to press the softest of kisses against her fuzz-covered head.

"She certainly doesn't look any the worse for her early arrival." Carole reaches out and strokes a finger along the baby's cheek. "How's Claire doing?"

"Tired," Blaine replies in between cooing noises. "And emotional. But I suppose that's only to be expected. But she's okay physically." He pauses then and finally tears his gaze away. "Would you like to hold her?"

"I'd love to," Carole says, "but I think we'd better let Grampa go first."

Burt clearly doesn't need telling twice, because he's there, arms outstretched, cradling his granddaughter as though she were the most precious thing ever – and as far as Blaine's concerned, she is.

The second Burt takes her, Blaine's arms feel unbearably empty. Which is incredibly strange, because he's only held her for ten minutes at most, but already he is struggling to remember what it felt like before. Now he understands why Kurt had been so reluctant to relinquish her. He doesn't have long to think about it though, because Carole is dragging him and Kurt into a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm so happy for you both," she chokes, and Blaine can see there are tears in her eyes when she pulls back. And if Blaine's honest, he's not too far from tears himself – ever since he took that phone call earlier, he's been running on pure adrenalin, and now it's all over, he just feels kind of a wreck. A happy, fulfilled, emotional wreck, but a wreck nonetheless.

"Am I too late? Did I miss it?"

There's a loud bang as the waiting room door flies open and into the wall behind to admit Rachel Berry, dressed to the nines in her opening night finery.

The moment she catches sight of the baby, she lets out a gasp and clasps her hands to her mouth.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" Kurt frowns at her in confusion.

"I got Blaine's text," she replies distractedly, her gaze fixed firmly on the small pink bundle in Burt's arms.

"But your party? It's your big opening."

The look that Rachel gives Kurt then is scornful at best. "There isn't anything in the world I would miss this for," she says, and her eyes flash with such emotion that Blaine believes every word.

It seems to satisfy Kurt too. "Would you like a hold?" he asks, as he takes his daughter carefully from Burt's reluctant arms.

Rachel's eyes are wide and Blaine can see the shine of tears in them. "Can I?" she asks softly, almost as if she doesn't believe she's being given the chance.

There's a part of Blaine that wants to say no, that wants to take his daughter far away from people with grabby hands who want to take her from them for however short a period it may be. Fortunately, his larger, more rational side wins out. "Of course," he says instead. "She needs to get to know her Auntie Rachel, after all."

Kurt hands the baby over carefully and with a flash of reluctance that Blaine is relieved to see – at least he's not the only one. "Just be careful of her head," he instructs sharply.

It's a sign of Rachel's excitement, or immediate devotion to the baby, that she doesn't bite back at Kurt's command – instead simply takes his instruction to heart and cradles their daughter so carefully, as if she's afraid of breaking her. And Blaine knows exactly how that feels.

Unable to bear the distance any longer, Blaine crosses the few short feet to Rachel's side. He stands closely and reaches out to stroke the soft hair covering his daughter's head.

"She's beautiful," Rachel murmurs.

"She really is," Blaine agrees. He knows most people think that about their own children anyway, but he has never laid eyes on a more beautiful person than this little one – except possibly Kurt.

"She has your hair," Rachel points out with obvious amusement and the scant dark curls. Realistically she gets that from Claire, but Blaine can't help but be pleased at that small connection, however slight.

"So have you boys come up with a name yet?" Carole asks.

Blaine looks over to Kurt. They share a soft smile, an unspoken conversation, and Blaine gives a brief nod. Kurt takes a deep breath and turns to address his father more than anyone.

"Her name is Elizabeth Rachel Anderson-Hummel. Liza for short." At Blaine's pointed cough, Kurt adds, "That part is still under discussion."

Burt lets out a laugh at that and reaches out to ruffle his son's hair. "She'd be so proud of you," he says, voice full of emotion. "Both of you."

Apparently the emotion of the occasion is too much for Rachel, because she turns her face against Blaine's shoulder and sniffles loudly. Blaine places one hand in the small of her back and rubs gentle circles.

"You might not be related to her by blood, Rach," Kurt says softly. "But we wanted you to know you're as important to us and to Elizabeth as if you were."

Rachel's sniffles turn into a full-blown sob then and Kurt wraps an arm around her shoulder.

"Would you like me to take Elizabeth? Give you three a moment together?"

Blaine smiles gratefully at Carole. He loves Rachel dearly, and wants nothing more than to give her a big hug right now, but he'd be much happier knowing his daughter was in the arms of someone a little less highly strung.

Carole eases Elizabeth out of Rachel's arms and smiles at her whimpers of protests. "Shhh, baby," she coos. "It's okay."

Seconds later Rachel has pulled both Kurt and Blaine into a fierce hug – she has surprising strength for someone so tiny. "I love you two so much. You have no idea what this means to me."

"We might have a small idea," Blaine says teasingly, and feels the breath rush back into his lungs as Rachel releases her grip.

"You two are going to make the most amazing parents." There's a wistfulness about her smile that Kurt picks up on as well.

"There's still time for you," he says softly. "Don't give up hope."

Rachel exhales dismissively. "I don't have time for pregnancy and all that rubbish – I have my career to think of. Besides," she pauses here for what Blaine is sure is dramatic effect, "what do I need children of my own for, when I have a perfect little niece to spoil and indulge her every whim?"

"There will be no spoiling, Rachel Berry," Kurt says firmly, in his most authoritative tone. But Rachel simply brushes him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Of course not," she says airily. "Now," she continues in the tone of one speaking thoughts out loud. "What age do children start riding ponies?"

Blaine takes one look at Kurt's horrified face and Rachel's thoughtful one and can't keep down the laughter bubbling in his throat. Burt and Carole are experiencing similar problems it seems, because soon the waiting room rings with the sound of their laugher.

Little Elizabeth is not amused, however, and quickly makes her displeasure known. Blaine quickly scoops his daughter from Carole's arms and rocks her gently back and forth. Kurt crosses to his side and peeks at the baby nervously. "What's wrong?"

"I think she's just a bit startled. She's not used to all this noise."

Kurt lets out a sigh of relief, Blaine's words having put his fears at rest. But then he gives voice to another very real one. "Blaine," he says very quietly, almost whispering into his husband's ear. "She's going to turn our daughter into a mini-Rachel. What are we going to do?"

Blaine leans forward and presses a slow kiss to Kurt's lips. "It'll be fine," he murmurs, pulling away. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

Kurt's silent for a moment, obviously thinking. Finally, he looks from his daughter to his husband, love shining in his eyes. "Like a family," he says in a tone of almost wonder.

Blaine knows where that tone comes from – there was a part of him that never thought they'd make it to this point. So he kisses Kurt again and then leans down to peck a soft kiss to his daughter's cheek. "Like a family," he agrees.