But nothing that had happened in his short 17 years would've prepared him for the phone call he got one sunny Saturday afternoon.

"Hello, Anderson residence," he had answered with the poise and dignity that he had been brought up with.

"Other gay, I'm calling to demand your services this evening at promptly 7 o'clock sharp," a harsh voice told him with absolutely no inflection whatsoever.

"I- Coach Sylvester?" Blaine had asked, completely stunned and dropping his dapper persona.

"That's Mrs. Coach Sylvester to you young Burt Reynolds. And yes, it is me. I require your freakishly large eyes to keep young Madonna Sylvester safe while I attend the local celebrity banquet dinner that is being held in my honor tonight," she explained, quickly and rudely as was always her fashion.

"I- wait you want me to babysit?"

"If you sit on my baby, I will rip that pretty little dough face off," Sue growled over the phone.

"I just, Coach you've hardly ever spoken to me before, why me?" He asked. He was so confused.

"I will admit that you were not my first choice. Porcelain is, as you well know, already left to that asinine anagram of a college, Asian and Other Asian were completely indisposed, and only a bumping idiot would trust Boobs Magee and her daft sidekick with a child. Besides, you're small, and close to the ground, I figure you'll get along with my girl," Coach Sylvester shot off, explaining everything as if it bored her. Blaine realized that it probably did.

"Coach Sylvester, I just, I'm touched that you trust me-" Blaine began.

"Don't you date show emotion towards me, Tickle Me Dough Face, I do not in any way trust you. There are microscopic video recorders planted all over my property. You make one wrong move and I can promise you that the National Guard will be on my door step to eject you into the ocean in 3 minutes flat. I in no way trust you or the secrets that you keep gelled down in a disgustingly Shuster like fashion, I merely figure you are therapy likely to kidnap my girl and force her to join the circus," Sue stated in her most professional voice.

Blaine figured that that was the closest he'd ever get to a compliment from Coach Sue Sylvester. For some unapparent reason, he was strangely touched.

"I'd be honored," Blaine said, ever dapper and ready to please.

"I know. You know where I live," Sue stated, and promptly hung up the phone.

Blaine actually had no idea where the woman lived, and had no idea why she would think she thought he did.

So, a couple of phone calls and hours later, Blaine showed up at Sue's house ready to charm the latex track pants right off of her.

"Hello Mrs. Coach! How are you today?" Blaine asked brightly when Sue ushered him into her house.

She was clad in a white diamond studded track suit with black accents. She looked pretty, in her own special way.

"Save it Blanderson. I see you accepted the mission that has been given to you. You completed the first task of locating my house in a somewhat timely manner. I'll give you points for that," she told him.

"Why couldn't you just tell me where you lived?" Blaine asked slightly bewildered.

"I needed to see how dedicated you are to this job!" she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. To her, it probably was.

"Now, Baby Face Gay Parade, I will return here at promptly 11 o'clock. I expect to find Madonna asleep in her room and you waiting patiently for my arrival. Do not break and or touch anything. I don't want you getting your rainbow glitter or hair gel all over anything. I will pay you sufficiently upon my return. Do I make myself clear?"

Blaine had to suppress the more sarcastic side of himself that wanted to salute her and shout "SIR YES SIR!" He chose to nod instead.

"Madonna is in her highchair, come on I'll introduce you," Sue said as she turned and marched into the kitchen.

As soon as her eyes landed on her baby girl, Sue's harsh features and stature softened immediately. She didn't look do rude and rough anymore, Blaine observed, no she looked like a mom.

"Hi my big strong girl," Coach Sylvester cooed at her 4 month old daughter. Blaine felt oddly out of place, like he was intruding on an intimate moment that wasn't mean for his eyes.

"This is Tickle Me Dough Face; he's Porcelain's lap dog! Do you remember Porcelain? The one that pooped glitter and hope!" She said smiling at her baby girl, yet being completely serious. Baby Madonna gurgled as babies tend to do and gave Blaine an inquisitive look. When Blaine beamed at her, she turned to look back at her mother, then back to Blaine. This time when she looked at him, she slowly reached her tiny arms out towards him, waiting to be taken.

Blaine looked at Sue, silently asking permission. She gave him a curt nod, so he smiled and scooped Madonna into his arms.

"Hi baby!" Blaine squealed softly. Blaine had always loved little kids, but he liked babies the most. They were always so soft and they smelled so good. He giggled and nuzzled his nose into her soft blonde hair.

She actually cracked a smile at this, and after a strict set of instructions, a few more ruse comments, and a kiss to her daughter's forehead she was gone, and it was just Blaine and the baby.

If Blaine thought Sue Sylvester was hard to handle, well she had nothing on Madonna Sylvester. For a 4 month old baby, she was into to everything. She had apparently learned very quickly and was already crawling and laughing and making a mess. At one point she had pulled Blaine's hair and gotten her tiny hand stuck in the helmet of gel. Instead of crying like a normal baby would, she actually started to lightly slap him with her free hand until her managed to get her hand free.

Even though she was a firecracker and a hell of a handful, Blaine had an amazing time watching her. She kept him on his toes, and they didn't have a boring moment all night. It made him think about Kurt and their future together in New York. They'd already discussed the idea of kids, and if Blaine had any doubts before, he was now sure he wanted like 10.

Madonna did not want to sleep. It was 10 o'clock, and if Blaine didn't get her to bed in the next hour, Sue would have his perfectly gelled scalp. Every time he set her down in her crib, she wailed until he came and got her. The girl had some major pipes.

"You are gonna get me in so much trouble!" Blaine complained as he held the tiny girl to his chest and sat down on the recliner.

"I wonder…" he thought out loud. Whenever Kurt was stressing or having a particularly bad night, he would call Blaine and Blaine would sing songs to him softly until he fell asleep. Blaine wondered if the same principle would work for tiny Madonna.

"Tale as old as time," Blaine began softly. Madonna looked up at him with her giant blue eyes as it asking him what in the world he was doing. Blaine just continued the song, settling back and laying the girl down on his chest and securing his arms around her. He clicked the recliner back so that he was at a perfect angle. He sang and sang and sang until he saw Madonna's eyes begin to droop softly.

"Beauty and the Beast," Blaine sang quietly, smiling as the little girl finally closed her eyes. Not wanting to jostle her, Blaine closed his own eyes, just for a minute; to give her c little bit and make sure she was asleep.

When Sue Sylvester walked into her living room at 11 o'clock that night, the scene she saw brought a tear to her eye, tough she'd never admit it to anyone. Blaine Anderson was dead asleep on the recliner with her baby daughter asleep on his chest. Her tiny fist was curled up and she had a handful of Blaine's sweater, his whole body rising and falling with his breaths.

Sue couldn't help but smile, laying down on the couch and closing her eyes. Blaine would be confused in the morning, and she would probably insult him relentlessly, but for now she allowed him to sleep, his eyes fluttering softly, and a ghost of a smile on his face.

Blaine babysat Madonna every single Saturday after that.