Two years later

The moment Kurt steps into his apartment, a whiff of garlic hits him.

"Are you doing aglio olio again?" he calls out, as he hangs his coat neatly on the rack. "I'm pretty sure we had an agreement about the quota of chili for the week!"

"I might have surpassed it a little," admits Blaine, as he walks out of the kitchen in his favorite ridiculously frilly apron with a picture of Ariel and Flounder in front. Kurt always has to suppress a snort every time he sees it. "But I promise you the level of spiciness here means to add a layer to the taste of the chicken and mushrooms." He holds up his hands innocently. "Iswear."

"That's what you said about the Thai food on Monday."

"It'sThursday, Kurt. Can we limit the quota to four days?"

"I'm doing the cooking tomorrow!" Kurt points a mocking finger at Blaine, who pouts immediately. "And it's all going to be salad and feta cheese."

"Ugh, your attempts to dissuade me off chili and meat is both perplexing and pathetic all at once."

"Remind me why I started dating you when all you do is burn my tongue and put calories on me."

"It's healthy food, Kurt."

"There's chili in it. And chicken. Pasta also spells c-a-r-b-s."

"You like chicken. And you're getting way too bony."

"I – "

"Grilledchicken, Kurt. I can't say much about the pasta, butgrilledchicken. It was what we had on our first date, remember?"

"That seedy café you brought me to? That just reminds me of your sincerity."

"Well, you willingly came along. If you had hated it that much, you wouldn't have gone on a second date with me. Once again, I repeat,grilledchicken. Do you smell it?"

"Damn you," says Kurt, and he finally crosses over to give Blaine a soft kiss on the lips. "You are the only person in the world who can make me feel exhilarated at having arguments at this age."

"This is called banter," says Blaine, promptly. "And twenty-eight is the new eighteen, not seventy."

"Ha," says Kurt. "Pretty sure cranky knees don't go with teenagers."

"Cranky attitudes do." Blaine relinquishes his hold on the pan, takes the briefcase from Kurt, sets it aside, then pulls Kurt back into the kitchen where he continues to stir his chicken and mushroom mix. "So how's work? Did Kewell – Boss From Hell, up his asshole factor today? He keeps topping himself."

Kurt lets out an exasperated noise. "I'd make a horrible dirty pun out of that, but unfortunately, it's just the usual 'Kurt, I don't like the way you draw your curves, I need my ladies to have straight lines!'and'Kurt, those colors are like Heaven and Hell! How could you –" Well kind sir, that describes both of us!"

Blaine laughs. "I hope you didn't really say that."

"Geez, I hope one day I really have the guts to say it. Probably start wrecking the signboard and vandalizing my name over his. Levington & Hummel's has a nicer ring than Levington & Kewell's,any day."

"That's right, young man," says Blaine, as he strains the pasta from the cold water. "I'm looking forward to your new collection – from those prototypes you let me see, I'm pretty sure Levington will recognize that he has been submerging a talented young fashion designer all this while!"

"From a man who thinks his cuffed pants with sockless shoes are the way to go, I think it's best you stick with your job," teases Kurt. "How were the kids today?"

"Oh, the usual too," says Blaine. "Nick wet himself again, Ryan ran out of the classroom, Mallory got her instrument snatched away by Dennis and cried the whole day..."

"By cry, you mean she had a meltdown, don't you?" Kurt asks wryly, as he points to a fresh scratch on Blaine's wrist.

Blaine looks at him with a rueful smile. "She responded more quickly to the visual cues this time round though, so there's definitely progress."

Kurt waits patiently as Blaine serves dinner, and when they eventually start tucking into their meal, Kurt can't help but muse,

"I don't know how you do it. I've said it a million times, but it literally takes youagesto see results from these kids and even then, those results are likeoneminiscule step ahead for them in the grand scheme of their lives."

Blaine nearly chokes over his pasta. "Are we going through this again?"

"I'm being serious." Kurt eyes the cut on Blaine's wrist with a frown. "That's the fifth injury you've incurred within the first half of the month."

"They're six, Kurt," says Blaine, patiently. "Any kid at the age of six tumbles and kicks and can even get all catty."

Kurt narrows his eyes at Blaine. "Except that the ones you're handling do these on a seriously regular basis, on a larger scale. And by that, I mean like, everyday or something. I'm pretty sure there's a reason why they're in something called the Lima Autism Center instead of any ordinary daycare.You know."

Blaine puts down his cutlery gently. "Kurt, that one miniscule step is enough to keep me going for a really long time. It's so amazing and rewarding when that happens. It's like when you finally get to showcase your collection and you see it being paraded down the runway."

"I don't know..." Kurt twirls his pasta. "You're so musically gifted that I just feel sometimes..."

"Here we go," mutters Blaine.

"That sometimes you deserve so much more. That you deserve recognition. Those kids may take that step forward but they don't realize it's you who pushed them there. They're not going to tell other people, 'Hey, I owe this to my music therapist back at the LAC.'"

"I prefer the word 'guided'. And that's not true. There are some of them who will recognize."

"It's not the same," argues Kurt. "They don't see it the way you do, Blaine. They don't seeyouthe way people should. They're –"

"Different," supplies Blaine.

"You know what I mean."

"Everyoneisdifferent," says Blaine, with a little shrug. "It's just the extent to which one person is different from another."

Kurt sighs. "Look, I know how much those kids mean to you. My point is, I'm just worried that you think you can do so much for these people and start losing your heart to them when it's just – just not the same."

Blaine laughs. "Are you referring to Tina? Are you still mad at her?"

Kurt makes an impatient noise. Tina is one of his best friends and Blaine's ex-colleague at the Lima Autism Center – also pretty much their matchmaker, as she likes to say. She had a whirlwind year the moment she entered the LAC two years back as a behavioral therapist – she fell in love with her wheelchair-bound autistic mentee Artie Abrams while coaching him to pursue his dream of being a musical director and subsequently, decided to follow him to Los Angeles where he would study film and she would dabble in the musical theater scene there. While Kurt knew that there was something special between both of them (and had eventually given his blessings), it didn't stop him from grumbling from time to time.

"Well, it's up to her if she thinks LA's musical theater scene is going to be any good!"

"Aw, come on," says Blaine, with a chuckle. "She got into a good company and the tickets are selling really, really well. It's better than for her to be in NY or be in a travelling company, far away from everyone else."

"My point, to be precise, was not referring to Tina. I was referring to you."

"Don't be silly! I work with kids! I'm not about to be convicted for being a pedophile."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Youmeltwhen it comes to kids. If they wanted you to do something for them, you'd do it in a heartbeat."

"Are you jealous?" Blaine winks.

Kurt remains serious as he continues, "Artie's really an exception. It was a huge risk for Tina to take – also extremelyunprofessional, I might add – and she's just lucky that Artie picks up what she says really fast because he's really intelligent. You know that there are some people in that Center of yours that aresignificantlydifferent."

"Alright, alright, I get your point, Kurt," says Blaine. "I know you're just worried for me. Don't worry, I know where the line is. I've been working at the LAC longer than Tina has. I've worked with all kinds of autistic people, from kids to older ones. I know how to handle them and I know all about distance."

"You're also the one who encouraged her to see Artie for who he was," says Kurt, dryly. "Not that it's wrong, but it essentially set her on that path."

"The pasta is getting cold," is all Blaine says before he turns his full attention to the food.

Kurt lets his gaze linger on Blaine for a while. He usually doesn't like to push the matter because he loves Blaine and respects that he has a passion for his work that gives him the strength to be so dedicated. The steady and sunshine person that he is makes him such a fit for the job and is also exactly what made Kurt fall in love with him in the first place. Yet, as much as he has accumulated this respect, he has also come to know of the depth of Blaine's talents and wishes that there is so much more that Blaine can achieve in his life.

Blaine cheerfully speaks of new recipes that he wants to try, and Kurt lets his mind drift along.

For now.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Kurt thinks he sort of understands. The differences between people don't always have to be negative; it's exactly what his father had reassured him when he had come out. It's just that it's difficult to keep that perception when the evidence seems to claim otherwise.

Artie is not the only autistic person Kurt has met personally, even though he was the first and had made a significant impression when he made a ruckus at a musical that Kurt had attended with Tina, Blaine and their friend Mercedes two years ago. Incidentally, that was the first time Kurt had met Blaine and it had ended on a rather chaotic note thanks to Artie. Kurt was livid that Artie had spoiled the whole show, ticked off every other patron and embarrassed them all with his critical ramblings and till today, he hasn't really forgiven him for that.

Even though that did lead to the seedy café outing with Blaine that same night, which he has to admit he did enjoy thoroughly – and it wasn't just because of the grilled chicken.

Oh well, some brownie points.

The other autistic person that Kurt knows is Sugar Motta, a former LAC participant who is now working at Levington & Kewell's as a designer-in-training. Kurt had instantly known that Sugar had a huge talent for fashion design when Tina had shown him some of her designs, and Levington had approved of them too.

Needless to say, Sugar's copious amounts of talents does not disguise the fact that she is very socially awkward amongst her colleagues. Her daily quips are regarded as eccentric and she is extremely blunt in expressing her views on others' works. Nobody likes to work with her and even Annie, the most patient of them all, has given up trying to guide Sugar through the human resource manual when Sugar keeps commenting that every second spent going through "useless information" like that was considered overtime and required payment.

And she was being dead serious.

Today is Sugar's first design presentation to the entire management team, a solo pitch for her first dream collection. She's been at the company for two years and has had her designs showcased at a fashion show, but it hadn't been her own per se. Levington has decided it's time to let her try her hand at pitching, but Kurt remains highly doubtful given that Sugar's currently clad in a ball of pink fur, black tights and equally pink and furry boots.

Everyone in the boardroom seems to think the same way, with all the arched eyebrows and pursed lips abound.

"Good morning everyone, I'm Sugar Motta," says Sugar, with a stare so wide that it's a little discomfiting for Kurt. "I'm going to present my first collection to all of you so I can hear your comments about it being very good."

Sugar's immediate boss, Jackie, tilts her head back in resignation.

"Sugar," says Kewell, with his signature hoity-toity lilt, "it's your firstpitchfor a collection. You haven't been awarded it."

"Let her continue," says Kurt, irritated.

Kewell flashes him a glare, while Sugar just stares at him – pretty much unappreciatively, although Kurt knows better.

"My first collection..."

Kewell rolls his eyes.

"...is a series of jackets with bold prints. The material used ranges from thin cotton to thick faux fur with inner heat lining to cater to all seasons of the year. The main idea here is the prints, which are pop-art symbols of everyday life. The inspiration came from pop-artist Andy Warhol who made the Campbell and Marilyn Monroe pop art symbols cultural icons."

Sugar clicks the projector remote and the print samples appear on the screen. To Kurt's surprise, the prints are of keys, mailboxes and envelopes – rather unusual choices. Yet, somehow the subsequent images which superimpose the prints onto jackets of all sizes and types look appealing in all their quirkiness.

"Everybody's always telling me to check my mail and I don't remember," says Sugar. "This helps me remember. It'll help everyone remember too. People always talk through mail nowadays and we cannot stop talking."

"What?" comes an incredulous whisper at the back.

Kurt knows better. Sugar has obviously grasped the core meaning of Levington's conceptualization of fashion as being all about communication – communication of an idea, a feeling, between people. He can tell from Levington's expression that Sugar is clearly impressing him. Sugar's still talking in a strangely animated way that sounds almost didactic, but she clearly knows what she's talking about. She's done extensive research and the prints are surprisingly funky on sight.

Once Sugar's done with the slides, there is a burst of chatter. Some are already cooing over the next fashion fad of icon print jackets, but there are those who think it's extremely garish. A few others are debating amongst themselves about whether the material of the jacket would need to be standardized. Sugar stares at the whole commotion with an innocent curiosity, and Kurt is almostjealousthat none of that ruckus is getting to her. If it had been him, he'd be quite at a loss for words.

"Excuse me!"

A sharp voice pierces through the chatter and brings a cloud of silence over the table. A woman clad in a black biker jacket with a high blonde ponytail stands up and folds her arms. "It's just crazy how you thought that was worthy of being presented as a collection."

Sugar stares at her. "I don't understand."

"Oh, of course you don't understand," says the woman, with a sly smile. "Do you need me to write it out on the board so you can take your time to read?"

A few sniggers go round the table.

"Kitty, please elaborate your point," says Levington.

"First of all, pop art was soyesterday–" says Kitty.

"There was nothing on pop art yesterday," Sugar interjects in a matter-of-fact tone.

The sniggers grow louder. Kurt groans internally while Kitty smirks and continues, "That whole thing about checking your mail is just pure bullshit and sucking up to Levington. Also, we've left our grunge roots behind for sophistication. This will take our rep down a notch!"

"Thank you, voice of reason!" Kewell throws his hands up in reverence.

"Kitty!" Levington's voice is stern.

The sniggers morph into murmurs. Kurt can tell the sounds are mostly assenting.

"Your evening gowns are not sophisticated," says Sugar, with a frown. "They have too many holes in them, like grunge jeans."

Kurt has to swallow his guffaw. Nowthat, he thought, is a voice of reason.

Kitty glares at Sugar. "Oh, so just because your fashion covers people up like a prude and dresses them up like clowns, you think you have the right to judge my works of art?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," says Sugar. "But I have works of art here that will do very well."

"What deluded world are you living in?!" demands Kitty. "This is acompany, Sugar Motta, not some fancy rag-a-tag store that's humoring your little schoolgirl art pieces!"

Kurt notices that Sugar's fists are clenching. She's trying to calm herself down.

"That's enough, Kitty," says Levington, even as Kewell is still mock-bowing to Kitty.

"People here lack color in their life and my jackets will bring color," says Sugar, her voice now slightly unsteady.

Kitty snorts. "Yeah right, I think you're the one who's lacking –"

"I am a talented designer and you are a fucking sore loser!"

There's dead silence in the room.

Sugar stares back at all of them. "Sorry. Asperger's."

Kitty is smirking, but Kurt is more irritated that Sugar's boss Jackie is not speaking up for her at all. The designs are clearly well thought through and have a certain spark to it, but nobody seems to care anymore.

"Do you all like my work?" demands Sugar. Her tone is not accusing despite the volume; instead, Kurt feels like part of it is a plea.

There's silence once again. Kurt winces slightly at the intensity of Sugar's stare.

"We need color! We need to remember to talk!" Sugar's hands are now doing a rather heavy chopping motion in the air. "That's what I want to bring. That's what I want to make. That's what I want for people! Color! Art! Speak!"

Her voice is rising, and suddenly everybody's looking really uncomfortable. A few people at the back are now shifting out of the boardroom. Kewell's also out of his seat and looking warily at Sugar.

"Sugar," says Levington, his eyes wide at Sugar's flailing. "Calm down."

"Color! Art! Speak!" Sugar shouts. "Your gowns have no color and they are not works of art! They don't speak to anyone!"

"What right do you –" Kitty is incensed, but somebody's already pulling her out along with the rest.

Kurt gets up slowly and moves towards Sugar. This is the first time Sugar has acted up ever since joining the company; Tina and Blaine had never ever mentioned that she went into such a mode before and Kurt is now rather afraid.

"Careful, Kurt," warns Levington. Kewell's already scrambling out.

"Sugar," says Kurt, trying to sound as level as possible. "Look at me."

Sugar is still staring into the center of the room and arm-chopping wildly. "I am a talented designer!"

In the past, Kurt would have run out just like anyone else. But he's seen how an autistic kid calm down under Blaine's guidance before and it's quite a miraculous sight. He's not sure if he can do it, but he has to try, otherwise Sugar's emotions might escalate and turn into a full-blown meltdown.

That wouldn't be pretty.

"Sugar..."

She takes a file.

"Oh no."

CRASH! It narrowly misses Kurt's head.

Oh my God.

"You are a fucking sore loser!" Sugar yells.

Where did she learn that from?Kurt manages to make his way towards the front of the room without being assaulted by Sugar's flying materials and waves his hands to distract her, but she isn't looking.

He looks around desperately, but everybody has already left the room. Then he catches sight of a strewn piece of paper where Sugar has one of her prettiest prints on it. He grabs it and holds it before her, just inches shy of her hitting the paper. "Look, Sugar, these are your designs. Look at them."

"I hate you!" To Kurt's utmost surprise, Sugar's crying. Her eyes are looking everywhere but him and the piece of paper. "I hate all of you!"

"Sugar!" He tries to stay firm, though he can't help widening his eyes when she holds up another file. "Color, remember? You want to color people's lives."

Sugar howls; the file whizzes past Kurt and he grimaces.Okay, Kurt, what did Blaine say before about them acting up?

Focus.

Focus. Calm. Yes. They need a central focus whenever they're acting up – a focus that steadies their world. So Kurt gathers his courage to step forward and swiftly – but not too harshly – grabs Sugar's finger before it reaches for another file and points it at her prints. "Sugar. Look."

Sugar's gaze immediately snaps to the color before her and she stops howling altogether. Her finger wobbles as it traces the prints. Kurt lets her do that for a while, until her finger movement slows down.

"It's a fantastic idea, Sugar," says Kurt, in a low voice. "I loved it."

Her eyebrows knot as she stares hard at her prints.

"I just think you need to know what the company's trends have been like."

"I know –" Sugar begins, tears streaming down her face. Her finger starts to wobble again.

Kurt motions for her to stay silent as he continues slowly, "If you don't like it, then you need to show the company why the change is good." He guides her to trace her prints again so as to calm her down further. "It's nice for you, but it's a big change for others. They need to be convinced. That's your area of improvement for presentation."

Sugar is still muttering, "I'm a talented designer" under her breath, but with Kurt's constant murmurs of,"It's okay, you're good, it's okay,", slowly and gradually, her gaze refocuses on Kurt. He draws in a deep breath of relief as her breathing steadies and her hands stop fidgeting. Once she is calmer, he guides her to help tidy up the room. Sugar goes about it in a most methodical way, following the edge of the room, while Kurt tidies up the strewn files and papers on the tables.

"I know I'm good," says Sugar, after a while.

Kurt frowns a little as he passes her the materials. "Area of improvement, Sugar."

She stares at him, then takes her things and walks out of the boardroom with a final, "I will show them I'm good!"

Kurt slumps against the wall and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. If that was how Lima Autism Center empowered its participants, it was certainly doing a damn fine job of it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kurt finally gets to press the doorbell of his apartment, it feels like he has triumphantly led an army – of his brain cells and emotions – to conquer enemy lands.

Well not really, the company is still called Levington &Kewell's.

It's mainly conquering a meltdown, but he's pretty sure Blaine will be in awe.

"I'm as good as any of you guys at the LAC," Kurt murmurs under his breath with a grin.

The door swings open and Kurt is ready to repeat that statement at twice the decibels. Instead, he's greeted with a loud yell of,

"Oh good, you're back home! Can you watch her for a moment? I really need to pee, I've been waiting forages!"

Before Kurt can really comprehend head or tail of what Blaine had just shouted, the latter has already dashed off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving the door wide open in his wake.

"You make a guy very welcome at home," mutters Kurt as he steps in, hangs his coat –

And stops short.

This day has to really stop springing surprises on him.

There is a young girl with a bushy brown ponytail kneeling by the coffee table in the middle of their living room. She looks no more than five years old, and she's very focused on drawing circles incessantly on a piece of drawing block.

Kurt's eyes narrow as he walks towards the girl. She doesn't flinch when he sits down on the couch to stare at her.

"Hey," he says, smiling immediately. "What's your name?"

The girl ignores him and continues drawing.

"If everybody at work could be as focused as you, we'd be raking in the money," says Kurt, as he offers her a pink color pencil. "That's enough blue, I think?"

She is still ignoring him, so he pushes the pencil a little nearer to her. To his shock, she grabs the pink pencil out of his grasp and stabs his hand hard with it.

"OW!" Kurt hisses, snatching his hand back. "You little –"

"Hey, Kurt!" Blaine's out of the bathroom and before Kurt can complain, he leans over to kiss Kurt's forehead. "Didn't want to leave her alone so was waiting for you to be back and I realized that was quite stupid because I really had to go to the bathroom and then you weren't back and –"

The moment Kurt hears the phrase 'didn't want to leave her alone', he tunes out because he has noticed something about the girl's drawing.

She is drawing blue circles of different sizes on the paper. But they are very neat little circles, with just about one small tip sticking out of the circle end. That small tip is about the same size for each circle. None of the circles overlap with each other.

And she is still not looking up despite Blaine's chatters.

Kurt gives Blaine a look, effectively shutting him up.

"She stabbed me with a color pencil," says Kurt, pointedly.

Blaine immediately winces and says, "Oh crap, Kurt, sorry.". He kneels down by the girl, but before he can chastise her, Kurt taps on his shoulder.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me why she's here first, before you go into a kiddy lecture?"

Blaine raises his hands and looks meek. "I didn't mean to give you a shock. I meant to give you a proper introduction... also, Jamie really means no harm."

"That's a start," says Kurt, slowly. He's calming himself down at the same time, because he really doesn't like that the little brat is still drawing away instead of looking miserable and guilty. Then again, he shouldn't be calling her a brat, but he's just really pissed off after a long day of having to deal with Sugar and now this girl. "Her name is Jamie."

"Jamie Chase, to be specific." Blaine sits down cross-legged by the coffee table and shoots Jamie a quick glance. "She's the newest member of the –"

"LAC," cuts in Kurt. "Yes, it's kind of obvious."

Blaine frowns slightly, then nods. "She just came today, but the problem is, she's too young to be put up at the dormitories at the LAC."

"Her parents can't afford to bring her to and fro the LAC?"

"She's an orphan."

"Oh." Kurt's glare softens.

Blaine puts an open palm on the table next to Jamie's free hand. To Kurt's surprise, despite Jamie still focusing on drawing her circles, she puts her little hand in Blaine's. Blaine rubs her hand a little, and Jamie's drawing slows down a little.

"Please don't tell me that you volunteered to put her up here," says Kurt, tiredly.

Blaine looks a little guilty, then lets go of Jamie's hand. "I might have just said that I could help... temporarily?"

Kurt stares at him. "Temporarily?"

"The orphanage doesn't want to keep her because they don't know how to handle her. Sue kinda signed the papers before it got into her head that Jamie's too young to stay at the dorms alone..."

"What?"

"Artie was the only orphan the LAC had before and he was independent," explains Blaine. "So Sue justassumedthat the orphanage would send somebody along, but that just isn't happening. So she's getting a permanent handler to supervise Jamie after classes. But..." Blaine looks awkwardly at Kurt. "That'll take about a month."

"That's called temporary? When you want to put her up here fora month?"

"We can think of other options in the meantime, maybe?" Blaine looks at him hopefully. "Just for a few nights – we'll work it out together."

Kurt's having some trouble trying to keep his temper down. He knows what Blaine is like and that Blaine would have immediately thought of how to take care of the kid and everything. On a better day, maybe he would have been supportive, but right now, he really can't swallow this down.

"Blaine, this is a matter to be worked out by the Center, not by us. You're the one who's been trying to convince me that Sue Sylvester isn't the boss from hell, so why is she dumping this on you?"

"Kurt, that's the problem. Nobody wants to have to care for someone like Jamie outside of work." Blaine sighs. "And I know how that feels and itsucks."

Kurt opens his mouth to argue further, but finds that he can't. He diverts his stare to Jamie, who's moved onto another sheet of drawing block. Then he looks back at Blaine, who's carefully avoiding his gaze. "Blaine, look at me."

Blaine reluctantly complies.

"Maybe..." Kurt doesn't know quite how to word this without raising his voice, but he's trying very,veryhard. "Maybe we should have had this discussionbeforethe kid entered our home."

"Kurt, I'm so sorry," whispers Blaine as he gets up to sit next to Kurt. "It's just that none of the others could put Jamie up and I just thought –" He hangs his head. "Sorry, I just assumed and I really shouldn't have."

When Kurt doesn't respond, Blaine tries to offer a bright smile. "You know, it'll be good practice for us!"

Kurt looks at him incredulously.

"I mean, we've talked about how we love kids and we want to have some of our own... and I think taking care of Jamie might just give us a little taste of what's to come." Blaine pauses, then his voice softens as he murmurs, "And we're doing a good deed too."

Kurt massages his forehead with his free hand. They have certainly had that conversation, but the road leading up to this vision wasn't exactly the one before him right now.

Blaine's smile fades and he looks stricken. "I know... shit, I know. I don't know what came over me."

"Look, I understand how you feel. I'm not trying to be difficult, Blaine," says Kurt, taking his hand. "But taking care of a kid like Jamie at the LAC is very different from taking care of her at home. And when we talked about trying to raise a kid, I don't think we were thinking of..." He trails off, looking helplessly at Jamie, who's finally switched to drawing green circles because the blue has become far too blunt. The pink pencil still sits in the corner and the pain in Kurt's hand throbs as he eyes it.

"I'll speak to the orphanage director tomorrow," says Blaine, after a moment's silence. "We'll see if we can negotiate something with her."

Kurt curses inwardly that he can't help but feel guilty that Blaine is in an obvious dilemma. With a sigh, he leans over to kiss Blaine's cheek. "I can try to work this out with you, Blaine. I suppose I can still handle a night or two. But that's all we can give this little girl. You know what I meant when I said those things yesterday about getting too close to them. These are your students, Blaine. That's it."

Blaine grips Kurt's hand tightly. "Thank you, Kurt."

For the rest of the day, Kurt doesn't tell Blaine about what happened at work. All he can concentrate on is how Blaine carefully guides Jamie through her schedule: dinner, then ten minutes of rest, a bath, a storybook read and bedtime. Blaine preps her slowly but firmly, and makes sure she's comfortable before the beginning of every phase of the schedule. Dinner's pasta again, but given the short span of time Blaine had to make dinner, there's no other option that would prove to be as healthy – and as familiar to Jamie. The girl doesn't speak; she just follows Blaine's instructions. Occasionally, she doesn't respond and it takes a while before Blaine can coax her to the next activity. Kurt leaves the two of them halfway to finish up some of his work, though there are a hundred things racing through his mind.

It's been just two years, but Kurt has no doubt that Blaine is the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. All through college, there were a few guys here and there who were attractive, or intelligent, or sensitive, or charismatic. But Blaine is all of it; in fact, Kurt feelsempoweredby his relationship with Blaine. Blaine always encourages him, comforts him, humors him and makes him feel motivated to strive hard in his work and in his relationships with friends and family. In turn, he knows he is a bedrock for Blaine, the steady source of support, love and care Blaine had never received in his early years.

There is no way they can marry in Ohio, though Kurt often dreams of it. What they have agreed on is that they want to have kids in the future. It doesn't matter if they are conceived via surrogate or adopted, all Kurt and Blaine want is to have a family of their own.

But does it matter after all? What if the child – what if the child they conceive or adopt – is like Jamie?

Kurt stops drawing.

He gets up and moves to the next room, which has been converted into a Creative Room of sorts. It's where Kurt can doodle on the whiteboard walls and Blaine can lounge in a beanbag to read, play the guitar or sort out a few simple games for his kids at work. There are brightly colored props ranging from tables, chairs, lamps, shelves... anything Kurt thought would be a great trigger for inspiration.

Of course, that made it a most attractive option of becoming the eventual kids' room, but Kurt hadn't expected it to bethatsoon.

Blaine is sitting in the beanbag as usual, this time with Jamie snuggled up against him staring wide-eyed at the book before them. He's reading slowly yet animatedly and his eyes sparkle as he meets Kurt's gaze. His reading slows down and when he reaches the end, he makes sure to pronounce 'The End' very clearly. With that, Jamie gets up automatically and goes to the plump mattress in the middle of the floor where Blaine has made a small, comfy bed for her. For a moment, she makes eye contact with Kurt, but her stare is so wide and piercing that Kurt has to look away. When he does look back, she's walking around the mattress, as if to survey it.

"There're no bedbugs, honey," says Kurt, dryly.

Jamie sits down on it.

"Does she speak?" Kurt frowns.

"Yeah, she does, but I think usually only when spoken to," says Blaine. "I'm guessing she probably prefers to draw."

"Right."

Blaine looks at Jamie who is patting her bed down meticulously, then at Kurt. "I think... I think I should spend the night with her."

Kurt notices the little pink luggage in the corner. Then he nods. How can he say no? "That'll be good."

Blaine sits before Jamie and tells her in a low voice what to expect the next morning: they would be bringing her to see her old home at the orphanage. Jamie makes rather strangled noises upon hearing that, but Blaine is patient and uses a few cards he has in his hands to focus her attention. Kurt can't really hear the exact conversation because he's distracted by Blaine's honeyed tone and Jamie's little noises. Slowly, Blaine tucks Jamie into bed and even though she seems a little uncomfortable with the new nest, it doesn't take very long before she closes her eyes.

"I thought she might have adjustment issues," says Kurt, quietly. "Don't they hate changes in routines and environment and all that?"

"With sufficient preparation, it's not so bad," says Blaine, looking up with a small smile. "Emma and I went through a very detailed process with her about what to expect, and I did take her round the house just now, so it's not so bad. Besides, I think she's tired by all the moving around places today so she's not too particular."

Kurt watches as Blaine softly pats the bundle that is Jamie. He knows that Emma Pillsbury is a senior behavioral therapist at LAC and would definitely provide good guidance to Jamie. It just feels weird not being in the loop right from the beginning as compared to everyone else at the LAC.

He must have somehow shown the uneasiness on his face because Blaine gets up, crosses over to him and slips his arms around his waist.

Blaine leans in, but Kurt pulls back slightly.

"Are you still mad at me?" Blaine asks ruefully.

Kurt doesn't answer; he just searches Blaine's eyes.

"I'm not Tina," whispers Blaine. "I won't be, Kurt. I just want to help her, that's all."

"That's what Tina said when she started out with Artie," says Kurt, wryly. He reaches up to cup Blaine's face with both hands. "That big, generous heart of yours is what I love about you, Blaine Anderson, but sometimes it opens far too many doors that you won't be able to close when the time comes."

Blaine sighs, then leans to press his nose against Kurt's. "I love how you always support my ridiculous antics even though it's really infuriating. How do you do it?"

Kurt feels something wet in his eyes, but he blinks quickly and presses a quick kiss to Blaine's lips. "Goodnight, dear."

Blaine looks like he wants to say something else, but he finally just shakes his head and whispers, "Goodnight, Kurt," before breaking away.

Kurt goes back to his room and sits down on the bed. He stares at the designs he's pinned up on the wall and bites his bottom lip.

I can do this, Kurt Hummel. I managed Sugar Motta today, and Jamie is just a kid who hates pink color pencils. She won't kill me. She won't kill us. We're going to be fine.

As long as the orphanage takes her back in tomorrow.