Kurt had to hide his amusement at Blaine’s changed attitude at the airport for their flight home. He had been such a nervous ninny on the way out, but now he sauntered around check-in, security and boarding like an old pro. He still wasn’t terribly comfortable with the private car angle of things, resisting not only the previous night for their proper date but again this afternoon for the ride back to the airport. But even then, he gawked less and conceded more. One more trip and he would be a pro.

They buckled into their first class seats and ordered drinks, sighing in unison as their brains started to transition to Ohio. Kurt looked down at their intertwined hands and squeezed, peaceful contentedness spilling over him for his first New York to Ohio journey in years. His dad still waited for him and Kurt still had no idea what he was going to do or how he was going to handle any decline he might find, but knowing he wasn’t going to have to do it alone, that he had a place of reverie and retreat when it got too overwhelming was a great relief.

And even more importantly, he simply wasn’t alone anymore. He’d come to the point of not even minding being alone, the confines of a relationship making his two-city living more difficult, but now that he wasn’t alone – in the most unexpected of ways when you factored Adrian into the picture – he had to admit that he’d been lonely. And complacently unhappy.

When the engine revved to pull back from the gate and his eyes met Blaine’s, the happiness he felt now was physical. His heart raced, his cheeks flushed, his toes even curled in his loafers. And when he spoke, even he was surprised at the breathiness of his voice – all strength zapped away to deal with the joy.

“Did you have a good time?”

“You have to ask?”

“I want to ask. You were so nervous when we left Ohio.”

“You have made me the happiest man alive, Kurt Hummel. I had the time of my life.”

“So, you’ll come back?”

“Of course. And maybe one time we could bring Adrian? I think he’d love it too.”

“Definitely. There’s so much we didn’t get to. Central Park alone could take days, especially with him.”

Their drinks came right before the pilot called for crosscheck, but neither drank, snuggling in for take-off, four hands tangled into one.

Kurt always closed his eyes, escaping into the physical rush speeding down the runway. It was his favorite part of flying.

“You ready for this?”

“For???” He didn’t open his eyes to answer, wanting to experience it all like his first time, every time.

“Whatever awaits us.”

Kurt took a deep breath as the plane accelerated and squeezed Blaine’s hands when the nose tipped up. A blissful smile swallowed his face as the full of the plane left the ground, flying freely higher and higher into the hazy August sky.

“I’m ready.”

***

And, as it never does, life had not waited on Kurt and Blaine. Adrian greeted them at his Nana’s with shouts and stories and jumping and dancing and an outfit that Nana had sewn for Lizzie and a new friend that he absolutely had to introduce to them but he’d gone to bed already so maybe they should stay another night and what do you mean you’re tired and want to sleep in your own bed, that is so completely UNFAIR.

Kurt felt like he’d had too much to drink again, his head was swirling and he wasn’t sure he could walk without being spun backwards by Adrian’s unending energy. It had been, however, lovely to meet Nana – Maggie’s Mom, Sharon, as adults tended to call her – and decidedly fell more in love with Maggie by simply being in her mother’s presence. She was graceful and funny, stylish and cozy and utterly, completely, unequivocally in love with Blaine Anderson. In short, she was brilliant.

She sent them home with homemade gluten-free blueberry muffins and a divine looking plum tart that was, as shared under her breath, far from gluten-free. As Kurt kissed her cheek goodbye, she made sure Blaine was occupied getting Adrian into his car seat and lovingly, but firmly grabbed his face, her eyes dazzling and direct.

“You’re as beautiful and amazing as he said you were. But if you so much as think of hurting him…”

Kurt smiled and wrapped her in his arms. “…then you have every permission to hurt me in return.” They pulled apart and he swore her smile could be seen throughout the entire county. “He told me on the flight home that he was the happiest man alive. I intend to keep it that way.”

“Just love him. That’s all you have to do.”

“Easiest job in the world.”

As Kurt climbed into the car, Blaine started the engine and the questions. “What were you two talking about out there?”

“What a shithead you are.”

“Oh my goodness. Kurt, that is a bad word.”

“Excuse me, Adrian. We were talking about what a stinker your daddy is.”

“Oh. Well, everyone knows that.”

***

And just as life with Adrian hadn’t waited or changed since their trip, life in general hadn’t either. Burt’s appointment with Dr. Asshat had been unsatisfactory in Kurt’s mind, only tending to his spell with a slight shift in medications. Kurt had always liked Dr. Shiver, but thought maybe a change in physicians might be necessary, especially when his question about any resources in caring for dementia patients was met with a pile of pamphlets. He felt like he was in Ms. Pillbury’s office in high school.

Of course, fires still happened in Lima and throughout the county and Blaine had fought his share of them, Kurt had given his support to his share of them, but they only worked one together. After a particularly arduous day-that-bled-into-evening, Kurt took over with Adrian, picking him up from day care, fixing dinner, bathing and snuggling Adrian into bed while Blaine soaked in the tub and lazed on the couch. It was a scene out of Leave it to Beaver – with a little gender-bending for fun – and Kurt felt oddly at home in it.

At evening’s end, after Blaine had gone to bed and Kurt had stayed up to make some overseas calls, Kurt finally climbed into bed with his tablet, mindlessly twisting his fingers in Blaine’s curls as he read. He was easily serenaded by Blaine's light snoring and was loving the smell of the new oil they had purchased in New York, the lingering scent from an earlier massage wafting through the bed sheets every time he shifted. After reading his last paragraph five times, Kurt gave up, turning out his bedside light and snuggled in to rub bottoms, tangle legs and go to sleep. Ever since New York, it was as if he’d forgotten how to sleep alone, so the occasional nights at Blaine’s were welcome.

Just as he began the smooth journey into sleep, he heard the doorknob turn.

“Daddy?”

“Ade? C’mere. Will I do?” Kurt motioned for Adrian to come to his side of the bed and rubbed at his bare arm when he approached. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Aw. Bad dreams stink. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Adrian stood there nibbling at the spikes on Lizzie’s head. “What, um…what does daddy normally do when you have a bad dream?”

“He lets me come into bed with him.”

“OH! Well…come on in. Here.” Kurt lifted the sheet and laid flat while Adrian crawled in. “Get between us, but quietly. Daddy’s really tired…”

Adrian climbed over Kurt, sharing hushed giggles when they got tangled in the sheets and then not-so-hushed giggles when they got less hushed trying to hush each other. “Be my big spoon?”

“You get cozy first…”

And he did and Kurt curled around him, breathing in Adrian’s pear-apple shampoo, falling in love with the feeling of his soft curls tickling his face. They rested quietly for long moments until…

“Daddy’s snoring, Kurt.”

“Rub his back a little. That always makes him stop.”

Adrian did and when it worked he giggled again, this time stirring Blaine. “Mmm? Buddy?”

“Hi, daddy. Kurt’s being my big spoon tonight. Is that okay?”

Blaine rolled over and his smile lit the dark room, lazy and gorgeous, unearthing his hand to comb into Kurt’s hair. “It’s awesome. Bad dream?”

“Yes. I fell into a fried egg.”

“You WHAT?” Kurt and Blaine called out and busted out laughing in unison, leaving Adrian visibly irritated. Until their laughs caught him up with them and he was laughing too.

“It was hot and slimy! And it’s not funny.” Except he was still laughing.

“Dude. It’s funny. Now that it’s not real.” Blaine tickled at his son’s belly and kissed his forehead when he squawked in protest. “And now it’s time to sleep. Can we do this, all three of us in here?”

“Yep!” This time Kurt and Adrian were in unison as Kurt pulled him in closer, nuzzling his nose into Adrian’s curls one more time.

He still hated kids.

“I could pretend to be bacon frying. Tssss. Tssss. Tsssssssssss.”

Really. He did. Hated them. They were horrible.

“Kurt, you’re a big old meanie head.”

Except maybe this one.

***

And then there were the moments where Kurt wondered if maybe, in fact, he did hate all kids. Because, as it happened, Adrian could be that kid. The kind Kurt hated.

Adrian could be belligerent.

“But I don’t like macaroni and cheese when it’s white. It’s supposed to be orange.”

“It’s just the color of the cheese, Ade. It will taste just like it always does.”

“I’m still not going to eat it.”

“Then you’re going to be very hungry.”

“I don’t like you anymore.”

“At the moment, I don’t like you either.”

And he could be dictatorial.

“The water’s too hot.”

“You had no problem with it when I started the bath.”

“Now, it’s too hot. I’m not getting in.”

“This isn’t a democracy. You’re taking a bath. I’ll add some cool water. Just get in.”

“No.”

Which was really difficult to take seriously when the imp was standing naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding a blue submarine and a pink-haired alien.

Kurt also learned in that moment that lifting a dictatorial, belligerent naked 5 year old and expecting him to bend at the waist to sit down in the perfectly tempered water was really something that should be relegated to professional…moms? Parents? Wrestlers? Someone other than himself. Because he was now drenched and Adrian was still standing, and still naked, and still in tight possession of a blue submarine and a pink-haired alien. He was also no closer to being clean or ready for bed.

Adrian could also be handsy. In the completely unpleasant, hitty way that children could be when they weren’t getting their way.

“I don’t want this book.” And it sailed across the room.

“Then lay down and go to sleep without one.”

“But, I’m supposed to get a story before bed!”

“You just threw a book. You lost your story tonight.”

"I GET A STORY BEFORE BED!"

"Not tonight. I'm sure your da-…"

“Well, you’re NOT my dad,” and at the word not he punched Kurt in the arm.

When he wound up to smack at his chest, Kurt grabbed his wrist and held it and the boy’s gaze. “But, I’m in charge – by order of your dad – and you and I both know this is NOT how he has taught you to treat people.”

With his hand pinned, Adrian kicked at Kurt’s thigh and flipped himself backwards onto his pillows, underestimating his headboard and firmly whacking himself right into it. The tears flowed and Kurt summoned up his compassion to try to comfort the child only to be met with more flailing limbs and more awful words. “And you’re not my mom either, so just LEAVE!”

And so he did, letting Adrian rage it out until blessed silence filled the old house. He made himself a cup of tea, pulled out some paperwork that needed to be done and settled in at the kitchen table pretending that the words hadn’t hurt. Because they had. In a way he could have never imagined.

When Blaine returned from his meeting an hour later, Kurt hadn’t moved, even though his paperwork was complete, and his tea was now cold.

“The honeymoon is over.”

“You look like you’ve been run over by a train.”

“I remembered why I hate kids.”

“Oh, shit.”

By the time Kurt finished regaling Blaine with the tales of his son’s increasingly horrific behavior, Blaine had promised him the moon, the stars, the planets, and finally the planets that had yet to be discovered in exchange for his son’s harassment. While on a scale of horrific behaviors, Adrian’s still rested on the low end, but it was far and beyond what Maggie and Blaine would have ever tolerated.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt. You know he didn’t mean…”

“I know. I think.” He sipped the last of his tea, grimacing at the cold of it and sighed. “I know.”

“Do you want to go home instead of staying over? You do have that luxury when he’s a shit.”

“I’d actually prefer to stay. Try again in the morning. Hold you all night.”

So, that’s what they did, falling in to Blaine’s bed, curling into each other, happily naked and sated, whispering in the dark until sleep threatened to take over.

“Are we pushing too much on him? I mean, you put those pictures of us up next to the one of you guys and Maggie and…I’m here a lot and suddenly taking care of him more…which I love, don’t get me wrong, but…”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Maybe? How do you ask a five-year-old what the right thing is?”

“By watching him, I guess…and after tonight…”

“But he’s never acted like this before. I mean, he has moments – you’ve seen those – but, all evening? And he’s never ever said anything negative about you. He thinks you’re better than me half the time.”

“Well, I don’t buy that, but it did feel all out of charact-…”

“DADDY!!! DADDY!! Oh my goodness, DADDY!”

“Oh god. That’s the…” Blaine bolted up, grabbed a pair of underwear from the floor, hoping they were his and stumbled into Adrian’s room, groaning when he opened his door. “Kurt! I, um…I’m going to need your help.”

Kurt got up and slipped on the other pair of underwear on the floor, grateful it was his because Blaine’s would never fit over his ass, and went to the hall until it hit him.

The smell.

The sound of the whining, sniveling mess of a boy in the room being carried, face out into the bathroom.

The sight. The vomit covering Adrian’s bed when he peeked in to avoid seeing the volcano erupt again as Blaine barely got him into the bathroom.

“I’ll…shit. I’ll get the sheets.”

“Thank you…oh, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Kurt ignored the disgusting noises coming from the bathroom and gulped, piling everything from Adrian’s bed into the middle and pulling up the corners of the sheets, heading to the basement. “Quick, toss his nightshirt up here.” Somehow he caught the soiled shirt on the sheet pile and got everything downstairs, throwing it all into the laundry as if it were nuclear waste. “Dear god, I hate kids.”

Until he went upstairs. Until he saw Adrian, ragged and dark eyed and stumbling back to his bed, now haphazardly covered with a blanket that looked well-loved and over-worn. Adrian’s horrible behavior became clear and all Kurt wanted to do was make it better for the little man. “You okay?”

“I frewed up.”

“I noticed. What can I get you?”

“Daddy’s getting ice chips. Maybe a hug?”

“How about another nightshirt, too?”

“Oh my goodness.” Kurt dug in Adrian’s drawer and jumped when Adrian coughed, afraid another eruption might happen. “Kurt? Can you get…there’s an orange one with a flower on it?”

“This one?” Kurt pulled out a faded t-shirt, complete with a few holes and barely-there flower, smiling sympathetically when Adrian’s smile wasn’t capable of reaching his eyes.

“It’s Mommy’s.”

“The perfect hug for when you’re sick.” Kurt wiggled it onto Adrian’s head, guiding his arms through the over-sized holes and holding him close for a few moments before helping him get settled into his pillows. “Need another blanket for on top?”

“Yes. I’m cold. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a big old meanie head.”

“Well, now I know you didn’t feel good, buddy. It’s okay.” He kissed Adrian’s hot temple and rubbed his hair, smiling when Adrian moaned into the touch.

“You’re not my mommy, but Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“You make me feel good like she did." He sighed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "You hug like her.”

Blaine cleared his throat and interrupted their love story, bringing a bowl of ice chips to Adrian’s bedside table. “For when you’re ready – don’t eat a lot, now.” When there was no answer, Blaine took Kurt’s hand and they let him rest, hoping that had been the first, last and worst of their night.

When they settled back into Blaine’s bed, Kurt laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve been likened to a woman that didn’t make me feel like shit.”

“There is nothing womanly about you.”

“Besides my voice. And my interests. And my complexion.”

“There is nothing womanly about you. You’re maternal, nurturing – he feels that. That’s not womanly. It’s just beautiful.”

They rested together, fingers tangling, their breathing synchronizing as the chaos of the previous scene settled around them. And then…

“I love him, you know.”

“I know.” Blaine rolled to his side tugging Kurt in close. “I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

***

Kurt [09-14-23 13:17]: Daddy? I frewed up.

Blaine [09-14-23 1:24]: What? Oh no…Adrian’s bug?

Kurt [09-14-23 13:25]: Remind me, did he die from it? Because I think I’m going to.

Blaine [09-14-23 1:26]: He’s still alive and well. Did you make it all the way to New York?

Blaine [09-14-23 1:33]: Kurt? Babe? You okay?

Kurt [09-14-23 13:36]: Oh my god…yes. Barely made it into the apartment.

Blaine [09-14-23 1:38]: I’m so sorry. At least he got over it quickly??

Kurt [09-14-23 13:41]: He puked what? Twice? Slept for 12 hours and watched Disney the next day. I think he got the wimpy version.

Blaine [09-14-23 1:43]: What can I do?

Kurt [09-14-23 13:45]: From Ohio? Not a heap. I’ll just lay here, get up to blast disgusting things out of my orifices and whine. I’m fine.

Blaine [09-14-23 1:46]: I probably shouldn’t be laughing, should I?

Kurt [09-14-23 13:49]: I hate you. And that child of yours. Which doesn’t matter because I’ll be dead in a few hours.

Blaine [09-14-23 1:51]: Okay. When I speak, I’ll speak highly of you.

Kurt [09-14-23 13:53]: Thank you.

Kurt continued puking until there was nothing left but bile, his ass sore from the diarrhea, the muscles in his gut aching from the heaving and his entire body agonized from the…evil that was originated in a curly-haired, amber-eyed runt named Adrian. Who probably felt like ten pounds of shit for making Kurt sick. During Fashion Week.

Good. Serves him right.

Sleep finally took over and the vomiting subsided. The aches and pains and newly stuffy head and cough, however? They were having a party…when he wasn’t sleeping. Which he had been, blissfully, until he felt a dip in the bed and warm breath on his cheek.

“You okay?”

“What?” Kurt opened his eyes and didn’t move, sure he was dreaming because there is no way in hell... “Blaine?”…that Blaine had hopped a plane at the last minute to fly to New York City.

Except that when he felt the same breath on his cheek and the soft lips on his temple, they couldn’t belong to anyone else. They’d better not belong to anyone else.

“Go back to sleep, beautiful. Just know I’m here when you get up.”

“Blaine? What in the hell?”

Kurt groaned as he rolled over, every inch of his body screaming at him for moving against the sheets. For moving at all. “Hi.”

“You did not fly out here.”

“I did.”

“You have a job.”

“And back up.”

“And a child.”

“Who has a Nana who loves us.”

“It costs a fortune to fly last minute.”

“I have savings.”

“No one can find a flight to New York in a matter of hours.”

“You did once.”

“You wound the sick. That’s really rude.”

“Apologies. Stand-by paid off really well.”

“Blaine.”

“Kurt.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’ll get better.”

“I’ll be there when you do. What can I get you?”

Kurt smacked his lips and swallowed, conceding to the beautiful man’s unwavering loyalty. “Ice chips.” He sat up with great moaning and ran his hand over his nest-like hair. “Actually no. If you’re going to be an idiot and fly out here…”

“What do you need?”

“For you to kill patient zero?”

“Someone in Adrian’s kindergarten class, I’d presume.”

“Yes. That one. And a boiled potato.”

“A boiled potato.”

“You’ll have to go to the market. Do you mind?”

“This is why I’m here. A boiled potato.”

“With butter, which I have. Need potatoes.”

“Mom’s remedy?”

Kurt mustered a smile and pointed to his cheek for a kiss, which he immediately got. “Yes. They’re delicious after an upset stomach.”

And it was the most delicious boiled potato he’d ever eaten, as all post-sickness boiled potatoes were, and Blaine’s doting made Kurt ridiculously happy even though he’d never, ever have asked for it or even admitted it. But the best part was when he got better. And they had a day and a half to enjoy Fashion Week and to explore more of New York. And each other. Mostly each other. In between coughs. And, after a thousand baths and showers to wash off every memory of sick.

Kurt still hated kids. But, he loved Blaine.