Kurt doubled over in laughter. His breath came in nearly-panicked gasps, trying to suck in enough air between the convulsions that, after a minute, sent him to drop to his knees and sit on the floor. Blaine smirked, watching his husband’s reaction.

Finally the laughter turned to light giggles punctuated by hiccups. Kurt took a few deep breaths. “Blaine, that is not funny,” he said, trying to sound stern.

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “Apparently it is.”

Nine-month-old Naomi was staring at Kurt, wearing nothing but a diaper after the bath Blaine had given her. She had a huge grin on her face in response to her papa’s laughter, though she had no idea that she was the cause of it. Or rather, her hair was the cause of it.

Her hair, which Blaine had gelled into a fauxhawk.

“You need to wash that out immediately,” Kurt said. “Before I die.” He started giggling again, and had to look away to control himself.

Blaine grinned. “Not a chance.”