"There she is!" Elliot exclaimed, shattering Kurt’s cool demeanor and causing him to jump with surprise. Before Kurt could react, Elliot yanked his hand away and took off, leaving Kurt scrambling after him.

"Elliot! Wait!" But Elliot didn’t stop for a moment. The straps of his backpack bounced against his shoulders as he dove into the thick, noisy street crowd.

Kurt kept his eyes glued on Elliot’s hat as he pushed himself between men and women of all ages, all colors, all sizes, calling his son’s name at the top of his lungs. He reached out, just able to wind his fingers around a single backpack strap; his nails dug deeply into the cushioned blue and brown nylon just as Elliot came to a halt in front of a little girl Kurt figured had to be none other than the infamous Maya.

She was beautiful: radiant and exotic-looking, with golden skin and eyes that glowed like honey in the warm sunlight. She grinned at Elliot, showing off two rows of tiny, pearly white teeth.

“Elly!” she squawked with delight. Kurt murmured a quiet awww to himself as she adorably clutched Elliot’s hands in her own.

“Maya, are you kidding me?”

All three of them turned to stare at the seething, breathless man who’d abruptly burst from the crowd to join their group. He stood with his hands on his hips, panting heavily; his focus entirely on the little girl whose beaming smile was now vanished.

“Sorry, Daddy. But I saw Elly!”

Daddy. The word clicked loudly in Kurt’s mind. He clamped his mouth shut, not trusting himself to keep from gaping at the man with delighted surprise. That’s her dad?!

He wasn’t that tall, Kurt observed, now that he’d let his shoulders slump with visible relief. And there was no way he was any older than Kurt’s twenty-five years.

Why the hell hasn’t this guy been at any PTA meetings?

From behind his dark lenses, Kurt let his gaze linger over the curves and angles of the man’s face: similarly olive-toned, like his daughter, with matching wild, curly hair and hazel eyes – though the man’s still flashed with remnants of panic.

“I don’t care! Don’t ever, ever run away from me like that again!” His voice was textured with a light quaver that chipped tiny fractures into his words.

“Okay.” Kurt watched as Maya clung tighter to Elliot’s hands.

“It’s okay,” Kurt interjected with a polite smile, finally uncurling his fingers from Elliot’s backpack strap. “I had my eyes on them the whole time.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but the kids were safe, and Kurt wanted nothing more than to assuage this man’s still-palpable anxiety over nearly losing his daughter in a rowdy horde of unfamiliar faces. “I’m Kurt Hummel, Elliot’s dad.”

Blaine blinked at him once, twice, then shook his head, as if trying to clear away his last shreds of fear. “H-hi. Blaine Anderson.”

When Kurt took the hand Blaine offered, he could feel how it trembled under his hold, sending light tingles on a slow, delicious journey all the way up his arm. He squeezed Blaine’s hand firmly, reassuringly, reveling in the feel of rough palms and calloused fingers against his own smooth skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Kurt breathed, his voice suddenly gone airy and too high. The heat from Blaine’s grip seeped into Kurt’s chest, sweeping the dust from a part of his heart he’d long ago locked up and abandoned. He was quickly in danger of melting, right there in the middle of Fifth Avenue, under Blaine’s molten gold stare.

“This is Elly, Daddy!” Maya’s voice burst up toward them, piercing the spell Blaine had cast over him.

Oh, right. Kids. They both seemed to remember their children’s presence at the same time. Slowly, they released their handshake; the moment shifted awkward as Kurt realized how long they’d probably been standing there, frozen, holding hands and ogling each other.

Kurt tore his gaze away from Blaine’s and focused on the children beside them. He had to suppress an amused laugh when he took in Elliot’s expression: a simultaneous mix of guilt and pink-cheeked embarrassment over the nickname Maya had just announced – loudly – to the world.

“Nice to finally meet you, Elliot,” Blaine said, smiling warmly down at the boy and causing pleasant flutters to take flight in Kurt’s belly.

“Do you like my dress, Elly? I picked it out just for you!” Maya spun a little – a swirl of pink and green and chestnut curls. Elliot simply nodded, biting down on his bashful grin as he stared at her, enraptured.

Kurt was suddenly hyper-aware they were still standing in the street. People streamed all around them, cheering loudly and bumping against one another. “May I suggest we all get out of the road?” Kurt proposed, flinching as a nearly naked man knocked into his back. “We should find a place to watch the parade before all the good spots are gone.”

“Let’s go, Elly!” Maya pulled Elliot by the hand toward the sidewalk, nodding back at her father when he demanded she stay close in front of them.

Kurt kept his eyes fixed on the kids’ backs as they marched a few paces ahead. Blaine’s presence beside him filled his entire consciousness: the rhythmic sound of his now-calm breaths, the potent scent of soap and shampoo lingering like a warm halo around his body. Kurt bit his lip, searching his mind for something, anything to say.

Moms, he could handle. Moms were easy to talk to, and they were everywhere, penetrating every pore of Kurt’s life. Moms loved Kurt: they thought he was sweet and adorable and the greatest man alive for being a single dad – and gay, on top of that. They could commiserate with him over stomach bugs in one breath and prod him for style tips the next.

But he was pathetically out of practice conversing with men. When was he ever alone with another man, another dad? And a single, devastatingly handsome one at that – one who Kurt still held a grain of hope wasn’t at the pride parade simply so his daughter could attend a play date.

Thankfully, Blaine broke the silence between them. “Jesus, she’s gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.” He blew out a harsh breath. “Shit.”

“She seems like a bit of a firecracker,” Kurt observed.

“Yeah,” Blaine said through a laugh. “Sometimes...headstrong, you could say.”

“Where’d she get that from?” Kurt dared to let his still-hidden eyes roam down Blaine’s frame once, taking in the way his faded purple t-shirt stretched perfectly over tanned, sinewy arms dusted with dark, coarse hairs. Oh please, oh please be gay. Dear god.

The corners of Blaine’s mouth curved upward in a small, tight smile. “Certainly not me.”

Kurt hummed in consideration – a teasing, flirty sound, surprising himself with the confidence that had swooped in from nowhere to take over his thoughts and words. “I have to say, I thought Ell was exaggerating slightly when he told me Maya was ‘the most beautiful girl in the whole world,’” he quoted, and they both chuckled. “But he might have actually undersold her a bit. She’s a gorgeous little girl.”

Blaine’s smile perked up. “Thank you.” He shot Kurt a sideways glance that brimmed with significance, and oh, there were those butterflies again, flitting against the walls of Kurt’s stomach and making him crave more.

Kurt paused, briefly mulling his next words before letting them slide off his tongue with a saucy smile. “And I can clearly see where she inherited that from.”