Kurt sits on his father's porch. Lima looks just the same as he left it; he's the variant. Always was.

Finn never fully grasped the concept of contraception. His tiny, female doppelganger chases bugs through the grass, looking back at Uncle Kurt and bringing over whatever her clumsy hands manage to catch.

“That's so cool,” he says, peeking at her findings. And disgusting, he keeps to himself.

He pulls his shades down over his eyes, the light too bright for the headache he's sporting thanks to a little reunion get-together at Quinn's last night – and this morning. The sun warms his bare skin and draws out all of his freckles. It's easier to be in Lima when he doesn't call it home anymore. Easier to breathe knowing he's bound to the people, not the place.

Chrissy runs through the grass uninhibited, unconditioned to be self-conscious at so young an age. She's giggling and gurgling, excited just for the sake of being alive. For all the conceit he's rightfully earned, Kurt doesn't think he's ever been so limitless.

A car comes around the corner of the street. Kurt perks up, ready to move should his niece not view the sidewalk as a fence to keep her in. The car slows coming nearer to where they are. It pulls into the driveway across the street and Kurt smiles.

Blaine steps out of the car, his mother as well. Tess sees Kurt and immediately comes running for a hug.

“Oh, honey!” She's reluctant to let go, but he pries her off. “I thought you were stuck in New York. No one ever updates me anymore.”

“Work delay.” He picks up Chrissy who's ambled over. “It's my niece's birthday. How could I miss that?” Tess knows better, but she's a recent enrollee of the Rachel Berry School now that Rachel and Cooper have joined forces – and genitals – to wreak havoc on the sanity of innocent minds. It's oddly apt those two would find their way to one another.

“Hello, handsome,” he greets when Blaine approaches.

“Hewwo, han'sum,” Chrissy repeats.

“Hi, doll.” Blaine rubs a thumb at Chrissy's cheeks.

“Rude.” Kurt pouts, not liking to be ignored.

“Hi, Kurt.”

“Unc'l Kurt.”

“Hello, Uncle Kurt,” Blaine corrects, with a nod of approval from Chrissy.

Chrissy wriggles to be let down and Kurt sets her back on the grass. Tess leaves them be, making a shitty excuse to go, and looking back at the pair at least a dozen times and miming the shape of a heart before she actually makes it inside her house.

“Come,” Chrissy calls. The gesture of her hand makes no mistake of her demand. She stares at Kurt until his lazy feet pull him with her.

“Um, why doesn't Uncle Kurt just watch and I'll help you find the creepy crawlers.” Blaine wiggles his fingers at her, reaching out to tickle, and she runs away as he chases her.

Kurt gives up on the idea of dragging himself back to the steps and lies down on the lawn instead. He hears Blaine and Chrissy laughing and running, hears Blaine panting – old man – and suggesting they go back to the original plan. Then it's quiet. Only the sounds of a boring afternoon on a suburban stretch of road.

Blaine's hovering shadow lets Kurt know he dozed off. Kurt smiles at a distant memory of being here in this same spot, locked out of his house and hung-over – much like now, with a timid Blaine coming over to invite him inside, out of the heat. It was their first non-date date. He turns his head in Blaine's direction, but he's too comfortable to even fathom getting up.

“Kurt's not in at the moment. Leave a message at the beep.” 

“Hey, Kurt. It's Blaine calling –” Kurt snorts, too hard and causes a coughing fit. “You've really got to cut down on the partying. You're not as young as you once were.”

“Fuck you.”

Slowly, Blaine moves to straddle Kurt where he lays. “Here?”

Kurt pushes his sunglasses up then, fans himself a little. “Well, I declare! Where, oh where, has my little Beaver gone?”

“Hush you.”

“Do I have to say ‘make me' or –”

Blaine kisses him hard, dirty, and slow. Blaine is all he can see and feel and taste and hear. He sits up on the ground suddenly, bumping heads with Blaine.

“Ouch.”

Kurt's eyes comb the yard, the surrounding houses. He pushes Blaine off of him and stands up. “Where's Chris?”

“Inside. With your parents.”

“You assholes just left me out here?”

“Uh… no?” Blaine does his scrunchy face and gestures to himself. “I just woke you up, dummy.”

“Right.” Kurt's shoulders relax. “You know, you could have just carried me in, bridal style.”

“I haven't asked you to marry me yet.”

“Well, get on with it then.” Kurt turns, laughing, headed inside.

“Do you get off on guessing my moves before I've made them?”

Kurt stops short, tripping on the bottom step and banging his knee into the wood. “Sweet mother of – fuck me. That's – ow. That fucking hurt.”

“So I've gathered. Is that a yes?”

“I've forgiven you for a lot of things, but if you propose to me now when I'm going to be tossing up my breakfast in twenty minutes, we're over.”

“So it's a no?” Blaine smirks.

“It's an ‘ask me properly, I've got options if this doesn't pan out'.”

“Later, then.”

“Later,” Kurt agrees. He jumps on Blaine's back without warning, almost sending them crashing to the floor, but Blaine hitches him up onto his hips securely. Kurt wraps himself tightly around Blaine and lets himself be carried toward the sound of his niece and his father singing along to her favorite movie. He rests his chin on Blaine's shoulder and runs a hand through his curls. “It's a yes, you know. Just to be clear.”