"How about this one?" Carole asked, picking up yet another onesie.

I sighed. "Carole, I'm sorry, but we are not dressing Vale in a plaid potato sack."

"But-"

Blaine put his hand on Carole's arm. "He's not going to let you pick anything," he said wisely.

"Thank you, Blaine," I said. Carole rolled her eyes. "You two could go and find the diapers. We don't need to color coordinate those."

Carole looked like she wanted to argue but Blaine insisted I was serious - which I definetly was - and steered her away. Finally. It was fun to shop with people but less so if they actually wanted to help.

I fiddled around with different colors. Dressing a baby was harder than dressing myself because they had no variety to pick from. Who shopped for clothes in department stores, anyway?

Navy or indigo with the overalls? I was deep in thought when the salesgirl popped my bubble. She looked my age, but her hair was messily pinned up in a creative fashion, so I found myself unable to judge.

"Need any help?" she asked, smiling. I took her outstretched hand, and she introduced herself as Dianne.

"I'm Kurt," I said. "And actually, yes. Indigo or navy?"

She actually took my question seriously. "What does he look like? Assuming he's a he."

I nodded. "He's bleach blonde, blue eyes, pudgy. Paler than I am. He looks like a baby," I shrugged. Vale wasn't exactly unique looking.

She thought for a moment. "I think I'd go with the navy out of those two, but do you mind if I go check something in the back?"

Abandoned. "Sure," I said. Maybe I'd been leaning towards the navy myself, but I honestly liked the both of them. I'd probably have to put them on Vale to really decide. I kept digging through the pile, looking at different color sets. There were limited patterns on the socks that I could match with, and of course Vale couldn't wear overalls every day. I'd probably have to grab at least one onesie and a few pairs of pants for him...

"Um, Kurt?" I turned around to see Dianne looking nervous, but she held out a small shirt and grinned hopefully.

I took it. Navy, with wide indigo hems. There were white stripes between each block of different color, and they were barely discernible but added flair.

"It's perfect!" I exclaimed. Sure, it was actually really boring, but compared to everything else in this store, and the fact it was for a six month old, made it amazing. "Thank you!"

She hugged me. I froze, as it was rather unexpected.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Theater nerd - can't resist a hug."

I shook my head. "Glee nerds are the same," I said. "Just wasn't expecting that from a stranger."

"Oh!" she laughed. "Well, you can hardly call us strangers now that we've bonded over the arts."

"True," I said. I stuck the shirt in the the shopping cart and halfheartedly pushed at a pile of blank gray t-shirts. "Fashion for slightly taller people is a lot more fun," I commented.

Dianne picked up one of the garments. "Yeah... a 'four to seven month old or approximately sixteen pound' baby isn't much of a canvas."

"Exactly. What I really need is enough money for one of those disgustingly expensive NYC baby boutiques."

"Not the ones with lace curtains, right?"

"Never. Lace curtains belong in the nineteenth century section of the museum."

"Oh, totally." Dianne picked at pairs of baby jeans. The thread came loose, and she pulled it out of the garment. I made a note to inspect the quality of the rest of the pieces I picked out. "You know what you really need is to raid one of the NYC designer outlets and then shrink all their stuff."

I shook my head. "No way I would shrink that stuff. If I got the chance to raid a designer outlet all those clothes would be for me."

Dianne pouted.

"All right, you could have the women's wear. But only because selling it would leave a trail."

"Yay!" she yipped. "Women's wear!" We giggled together.

We ended up chatting for ages more, talking about ourselves and exchanging contacts. It turned out she had her own style blog; but she had plans to abandon it because it wasn't doing very well and she already had work and school to keep her uber busy. We had plans to go shopping together sometime, not that Ohio was much of a destinatiom for the fashion savvy.

Blaine and Carole came back after not too long. Blaine toted three massive boxes: one of diapers, one of a dissembled high chair, and one of a dissembled baby crib.

"Hey, you," he called. "Come help me with this."

"Do it yourself," I called. I grinned and tried not to flinch when he dropped the high chair's box on his foot. Carole didn't help him out either, and she stood next to me and Dianne as we giggled. I had to hold out a hand to stop Dianne helping, since she was an employee.

Eventually, Blaine got all of the boxes on the bottom of the cart. "Babies need more stuff than you do, Kurt," he complained. I was about to retort, but he decided to poke me in the ribs right then, so I had to introduce him to Dianne while doubled over. "Oh my god, Blaine, that tickles!" I said a while gasping. "Blaine, this is Dianne," I got out after a while, "who could teach you a thing or two about clothes. And Dianne, this is Blaine. Duh."

They shook hands.

"So formal," Carole laughed. She introduced her self to Dianne. "Is there anything else we need for Vale, Kurt?"

"You're the one that's going to be his mom, Carole," I said. "All I came for was to make sure he wouldn't be dressed in potato sacks."

"True." she said. "And we can always come back."

Someone's ring tone buzzed. Dianne produced a fat walky-talky from her belt. "I've got to go," she said with amusement. "Some kid built a pillow fort upstairs, and I have to help put it away. But we'll talk, Kurt?"

I nodded. "Definitely."

"Awesome," she consented before skipping away.

Blaine grabbed my hand, entwining our fingers. He leaned into me, resting his head on my shoulder as we walked. It was only recently that he was tall enough to do so, and he took every chance. "I wish I was that awesome," he said.

"Dianne's pretty cool, but even though I might be biased, I think I like you better," I replied.

Blaine shook his head. "I mean the kid who built the fort. I wish I did that stuff when I was a kid."

"Neither of us is eighteen, you know. It's not technically too late."

"Do you mean we could-"

"Not here, Blaine. They'll make Dianne put it all away and we like her, remember?" He pouted. "Plus, we're already leaving."

"Awww..."

Ages were spent in the check out line, and then we made for the doors. Right before we passed through, I heard a familiar jingle. I turned around to see Dianne smiling into her walky-talky. As soon as she looked up, she spotted me, and Blaine who was basically walking while hugging me, her face showed surprise. And then it showed anger. She glared coldly at us, but we were gone in a second.

"I don't think Dianne approves," said Blaine as we walked to Carole's car.

"No, she doesn't," I agreed.

"It's kind of my fault."

"No, it's mine. I just can't help but show you off."

"I guess," Blaine sighed.

"I would've figured out she was a bitch eventually, and I did mean it when I said I'd rather have you stick around, you know," I said. We climbed into the backseat of Carole's and he pulled me as close to him as the seat belts would allow.

He buried his face in my hair. "Good, because I need you to stick around to keep the dust away from my nose. It tickles."