“Oh hey Blaine I didn't know you were-oh Kurt it's you, sorry, Hi-” Kurt spun around in the wheelie chair and chuckled with a little wave as the young man before him hovered in the doorway, his fingers glued to the doorknob.

“Hi, sorry Ivan, I'm just kinda hanging out, I hope that's ok.” Kurt swivelled back around in the chair with a smile, his knees tucked up and arms wrapped around them.

“Oh yeah sure, cool man no problem, a bit weird but-oh I see why-” Ivan cut himself off as he stepped closer to the desk and leaned down, bracing his hands on the edge and looked intently in the same direction as Kurt was fixated on, the small white box that was propped up on the desk in front of the computer. Kurt turned his head but didn't shift his gaze.

“I'll be out of your way in a moment, I got off from work early and had to call in here to get something on my way up, and I-I just-” He trailed off as a soft gurgle sounded from the little white machine followed by a deep familiar chuckle.

“You think that's funny huh?” Both Kurt and Ivan watched with matching smiles as Blaine, on the small monitor screen, laughed and babbled and rolled around on the floor of their living room upstairs, chairs and sofas and the coffee table pushed back out of place messily

“You're gonna kill him for that right? For messing up the feng shui or whatever?” Ivan teased and bumped his side into Kurt's shoulder.

“Trust me kid, feng shui is the last thing on you're mind when there is an infant around taking all of your time and energy.” Kurt said with a smile as Ivan peered down at him and smiled and nodded.

Ivan would probably never tell anybody this but he secretly loved it when Kurt called him kid, Blaine had always used that name for him and now that Kurt had picked it up too, it felt nice.

Blaine had always been a great boss, a cool friend and now something like an older brother to him, he preened with the trust Blaine had shown in him with making him acting manager whilst he took some time off to focus on writing and composing music and now of course his family. And now Ivan had Kurt to factor in to their friendship too.

The fact that from time he'd overheard Blaine and Kurt tease each other with the names ‘kid' and ‘old man' is beside the point, those words have other, different meanings that are for them to enjoy together, privately.

“How old is he now, like three-four months?”

“Four and a half months.” Kurt nodded as he peeked up at Ivan, there was another soft gurgle which sounded of mostly spit and bubbles and Kurt grinned widely as he touched a finger tip the small screen.

Finley was lying on his front on a large protective play mat on the floor which looked like a surrounding jungle, with bright vibrant colours and vines and soft fabric poles shaped likes trees hovering high overtop, with bananas and monkeys and birds dangling down. He was dressed in sky blue pants and a white t-shirt with a colourful bowtie and suspenders actually printed on to it. Kurt had rolled his eyes the day Blaine had brought that particular item home, but did nothing but smile and take pictures when Finley kindly modelled the piece later that day.

Dressing Finley was always a fun topic and activity between them, of course Kurt took pride in the task at hand, and always makes sure that his dresser and closet and organized and only stocked with clothes that could be mix and matched correctly for instances like these, when it's Blaine's turn to dress him. Blaine, who was more of a ‘dress him in what ever I feel like it' kind of stylist. Even though most days Finley goes through at least three outfit changes anyway.

“He's so clever and strong, look.” Kurt remarked as he pointed at Finley who was making a valiant effort at holding his head and upper half of his body upwards as he watched Blaine crawl towards him, making silly faces.

The thing that Kurt had loved about Blaine almost instantly when they first met, was his ability to just know, to have all of these skills, all of this wisdom and knowledge, and make everything look so simple, so easy. He doesn't complain, rarely, he just does, goes about his business and life. If there is something or an area that he is not too aware of, he learns to adapt, effortlessly, perfectly.

Blaine has adapted to parenthood like a duck to water, the man is a natural, and not just with the baby, but as a family, as whole. Kurt and Blaine work together, they know when one is more tired than the other and needs a long hot soak in the tub, Blaine knows when Kurt just needs to be held for a little while, in the quiet of their living room or their bedroom when Finley is rocking in his bouncy chair beside them, watching with wide eyes.

And when Finley is finally sound asleep in the late hours of the evening, in his crib in the nursery and the soft snuffles can be heard over the speakers of the monitors, Blaine knows just exactly how to take care of Kurt between their sheets and in the dark warmth of their bedroom. 

“He is, he's so lucky to have you guys.” Ivan replied softly and Kurt nudged his shoulder into his side by way of reply, Kurt is a firm believer of it being the other way around, adoption is not an easy process. “It's nice having you guys back down here though, now and then, you know, even if it is sometimes just a little hideaway.” Ivan snorted with a smile.

“I mean that time the other week when little F was screaming his lungs out for like an hour straight and Blaine was down here with his head in his hands, and it sounded like you were probably doing the same, whilst Fin'ster wailed at the poor teddy bear across the nursery, I even felt like crying, but you two are so great with him, you just like rode it out, let him deal with it until he finally went to sleep.”

Kurt groaned, “God I still have a headache just thinking about that day, but he's got to get used to his night time routine, I'm surprised Blaine didn't switch the thing off that time, I forget it's down here sometimes.” Kurt chuckled. Ivan rolled over another chair and plonked himself down next to Kurt, resting a foot up on the wooden ledge of the desk.

“You know, he nearly did, I watched him rub at his eyes, he was like totally drained, and then reached a finger over towards the power button, but then Finley cooled it and B whispered goodnight to the little screen, it was kinda cute I gotta admit, and then you sounded like you went off into some kind of hysterical fit of laughter in the next room-”

“It was either that or cry-”

“And then Blaine just like started giggling along with you, you guys are so weird.” Kurt laughed.

“Yup, that's us.” Kurt said with every ounce of pride and happiness laced in each word.

“Don't tell Daddy ok-” Kurt and Ivan's attention was drawn back to the screen, where Blaine had lifted the baby up off of the mat and gently back down beside him on the fluffy rug. Ivan glanced at Kurt questionably who was smiling but shaking his head.

“That rug is a nightmare to clean, and Finley has a little reflux at the moment.”

Blaine was lying on his side, his head propped up by a hand and legs and body curled protectively around little Finley who was lying on his back, staring up at Blaine.

“There we're just hanging out, it's cool right.” Blaine cooed down at his son, Kurt smiled as he watched the little scene unfold.

Finley's little legs and socked feet were kicking upwards excitedly and his arms stretched up towards his Blaine, hands flexing and fingers grasping, just grazing Blaine's stubbly face. Blaine caught those little fingers and blew raspberries against them causing a loud, high pitched giggle to break free, which evolved into a more wide mouthed gargled ‘aahaa' sound. Blaine laughed too and continued to blow and kiss at his little hands and fingers.

“Papa loves when you do that, you know.” Blaine said through a deep chuckle, ducking to brush his nose against Finley's button nose.

Kurt giggled too and Ivan chuckled with him, “That's such a cool sound, like a proper little person laugh.”

“Yeah he started giggling when he was Six weeks old, but recently it's developed into this, it's literally like listening to your favourite song that you haven't heard in ages when he does it.”

“You see there's no problem here is there, were just- oh shi-no, oh no-” Kurt leaned forward in his chair as Blaine on the little screen rolled onto his knees, and lifted Finley into his arms, whilst he dabbed at his mouth and chin with the corner of his bib he'd picked up from the nearby coffee table. Kurt narrowed his eyes and shook his head whilst Ivan laughed.

“Shi-no. Ha. How's the swear jar coming along?”

“Put it this way he can now afford a trip to the dry cleaners with that rug.” Kurt said dryly but Ivan knew there was no weight in the statement.

Blaine tied the bib around Finley's neck and picked up a cloth from the pile of ‘Finley necessities' he had made on the coffee table. He dropped the cloth to the floor and rubbed at the mark half heartedly with his foot, whilst he bobbed up and down with Finley who seemed rather amused and proud of the whole thing.

“Oh my god, he's making it worse.” Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose as Ivan patted his shoulder comically. “Ok, I'm going, before the whole rug is marked white-” Kurt rose from the chair and winced, almost falling back down.

“Whoa man you ok?” Ivan said as he looked up at Kurt.

“You wanna see something?” Kurt grinned down at him.

“Ok?” Kurt lifted the hem of his shirt and un tucked it from the belt looped through his trousers, he grinned when Ivan's eyes widened and not quite knowing where to look with a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

Kurt folded the bottom of the fabric upwards, and inched the waistline of his jeans down, just revealing a small wedge of creamy skin just below his left hip-bone. He peeled back a small white bandage which was stuck down with tape and made a face at the faded remnants of black ink and light trace of blood that stained the underside.

“No way,” Ivan breathed as he stood up and stepped closer, “That's so cool, Blaine doesn't know?”

“Well we were in bed the other morning-”

“Don't need to know thank you very much-”

“Shut up- and we were just talking about random stuff-quietly, Fin was sleeping between us- I was tracing Blaine's tattoo he got for Fin on his collar bone with my finger and somehow that lead to me actually drawing new patterns and ideas on him with a washable marker-”

Ivan laughed, “Whilst your child sleeps unknowingly beside you.”

“So we got to talking and fooling around-not like that, sleeping child remember- and I guess I kind of fell in love with an idea or two and decided to surprise him with something. You-you remember what I just said about when Finley laughs for us, it's like listening to-”

“Your favourite song yeah?”

“Life with Finley, and Blaine, is like as easy and flowing, and up and down as music altogether, like a gorgeous symphony, always open for expansion and growth and-and-”

“And that of course is like a sum up of one Mr Anderson also-”

“Right.” Kurt said with a smile as he peeked down at the tiny patch of marked skin, not too small but also not too big that could effect any potential future jobs. It's not like he's planning on stripping down to his boxers on stage anytime soon, but never say never right, there's always make-up anyway.

The addition to his skin, is something for him, nothing to prove to anybody else, but to remind him of son and his husband, his world.

“B's gonna love it Kurt, he's gonna go crazy for it, it's perfect.” Ivan said softly, almost reverently so, Kurt and Blaine were two people who he truly did admire and care deeply about.

“I know.” Kurt hushed proudly, his eyes cleared and glazed as he looked down and traced a finger tip through the air just over the small black symbol.

A musical note, a quaver the same as Blaine has on his groin, but Kurt's has the letters ‘FHA' wrapped around it in beautiful fine flowing print. 

“Oh Fin, come on man, not on Papa's socks, I borrowed these from Daddy-” Kurt and Ivan looked back over at the little screen as Blaine held Finley out at arms length as he looked down at himself with a chuckle, where the baby had decided Blaine's feet and a little more of the rug needed to be covered and smelling a little sour.

“Perfect.” Kurt repeated Ivan's words. And he meant it.