My father was a terrible parent. Terrible with small children, at least. It was a wonder I'd survived infancy, but I guess my mother had been around to save me from him then.

When we arrived home, my resentment towards Dianne was forgotten.

Blaine scooped Vale up, who was laying on his own on the couch. My dad was nowhere to be seen, until Carole found him making himself a needlessly complicated sandwich in the kitchen.

I pried the remote from Vale's mouth (so much slobber, ugh. He probably fried the circuits) and then Blaine and I whisked Vale away to my room. Mostly to escape Carole scolding my father. It wasn't a fight though, so I wasn't worried. My dad actually had the "deer in headlights" look that Finn often got.

Blaine sat on my bed and cooed to the child. Vale giggled. Blaine whistled, and Vale giggled. When Blaine sang a high trill, and Vale really laughed. And then Blaine started singing.

This land is your land, this land is my land

From California, to the New York Island

From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters

This land was made for you and me

As I was walking a ribbon of highway

I saw above me an endless skyway

I saw below me a golden valley

This land was made for you and me

I picked up the chorus, and made up a silly harmony; Blaine sang the rest of the verses. By the end, Vale was snoring. Not exactly a lullaby, but still sort of a kid's song. I guess he liked it.

"You sounded great," I praised Blaine.

Blaine gave his mischievous grin. "Your part was the best," he said.

"I kept messing up the words," I said modestly, even though I knew I was fine.

"Still can't take a compliment."

"Your hair looks so hot when it's all ungelled like that, you know."

"No, it- Oh."

"Still can't take a compliment," I laughed.

We sat quietly for a while, just looking at Vale and listening to his occasional breathy little sighs.

"Imagine us in New York," Blaine said suddenly.

I laid down next to him, and we put Vale between us. We stared up at my plain ceiling. "The apartment is kind of small," I said.

Blaine laughed. "Okay, well, when I turned eighteen, we both got lottery tickets, just because we could, and one of us won."

The New York home in my mind blossomed, exploding into a much bigger living space, with, you know, more than three rooms. "That's better," I commented.

"The walls are light green, and all the furniture, and all the accents, they're... Blue."

"I don't get to interior decorate our own place?"

"No. We hired an interior decorator to do it for us. Because we're lotto winning millionaires, remember?"

"But why didn't I get to do it?"

"Because I wanted to surprise you," said Blaine. The dust motes had spaz attacks as he rolled over to look at me.

I grinned at him, and his dark eyes shone. "Of course," I said. "Any other surprises?"

"Maybe. So at this point, we're both out of university. You're the famous broadway persona, and everyone knows you as The Kurt Hummel. Even me. In your spare time, you... Have a clothing line, that's what. Oh, and you also write for Vogue, but not on a regular basis. You're the guy who can go stomping into HQ and demand five pages of space in the next issue and no one bats an eye."

"I sound busy," I observed.

"Ah, but that's where I come in. I rehearse your broadways songs with you constantly, and I manage the business side of your designer label. I'm also the one that gets you coffee while you're writing, and negotiates just how ridiculously well Vogue pays you for your articles."

"Don't you get do anything for yourself?"

"I raise the kids."

I laughed out loud. "I love you, Blaine Anderson," I said to this, and started pulling him in for a kiss.

"Um, Kurt," he said, stopping me. "You're squishing Vale."

I pushed myself away instantly. "Sorry, little guy," I apologized. He'd woken up, and even giggled. He did a lot of that. Oops. "Maybe Carole will take him," I said.

Blaine  shrugged. "She had him all morning. Our shopping trip was pretty much her only break from him all day, and that was for him. Oh, and I think he just fell asleep again." He was right.

 "You're so nice, Blaine, it's infuriating."

"I try," Blaine said happily. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to go to the washroom."

"Kay," I called. I pulled out my phone.

There was a text from an unknown number. From ages ago.

(From Unknown Number at 3:15pm)

Dianne here. Still want to go shopping?

I sucked in a breath, surprised. I contemplated several responses: "why were you glaring at me and Blaine?!" "gtfo, bitch!" "totally! Lima Mall, saturday at Noonish?" "I'm actually booked solid for the next six months, try again next year."

(To Unknown Number at  4:34pm)

When and where?

Sufficiently detached, I decided. Hopefully, she would take it as "hurried" rather than rude.

Not that I cared what the bitch thought, or anything. Even though she seemed pretty freaking chipper again.

I attached the girl's name to her number while I waited for her reply. It came close to instantly.

(From Dianne at 4:35pm)

We could do lunch in the food court at Lima Mall and then shop afterwards. @1:00, sunday?

(To Dianne at 4:36pm)

I'll be there.

(From Dianne at 4:37pm)

Sweet!

Blaine came back in, then. "Hey, Kurt, are you okay?" he asked with concern. I must have looked a little distraught, or confused. I didn't even know what I was feeling, so who knew what he was seeing on my face.

I came out of my zoned out setting. "Sorry. I- yeah. Fine, I'm fine."

"Can I see your phone?" he asked. "I promise I won't threaten whoever's bugging you on your behalf."

"No one is- Oh, alright," I said. I knew when he made that face, he wasn't going to give up. He might have even tickled me if I'd pushed it, and that I would not be able to survive with dignity.

Blaine grinned as I passed him my window to the world. I leaned against him while he played with it and quickly fell asleep.