Kurt turned to his left side and cuddled into his daughter, his right hand resting gently over her side. He tried not to think about his father’s wrinkled face, or the too-clean smell of the hospital, or the tubes trailing from his father’s arm (and chest, oh God) to the machines. Instead he forced himself to breathe deeply, reveling in the scent of Lizzie’s favorite bubble bath, the strawberry No More Tears shampoo that he had bought for her last week. Eventually, his breathing evened, but before he dropped off into sleep, he felt Blaine’s hand threading gently though his hair, his index finger tracing softly over the shell of his ear, his thumb ghosting over Kurt’s cheekbone. Blaine settled then, letting a sigh out through his nose, and Kurt walked his right hand out over the mattress and hooked it over the crook of Blaine’s arm without opening his eyes.

The three of them slept entwined, the aroma of Lizzie’s sweetness and the heat from Blaine’s skin lulling Kurt completely into slumber.

*

Kurt woke to Lizzie’s round, blue eyes staring at him not two inches from his face.

“Morning, sweet pie,” he greeted, smiling gently at her and shifting back so he could see her fully.

“Morning, Daddy,” she whispered back, her eyes wandering over his face.

Kurt pulled her into a hug, and she buried her face in his chest as he stroked her hair. Then she leaned back and said, very matter-of-factly, “Barbie needs a new shirt.”

“She does?” Kurt asked with wide eyes. “What happened to the last one I made her?”

“Um…um…” Elizabeth looked around, avoiding his face. “It got…it got ripped.”

“Oh, it ripped, huh?” Kurt replied knowingly. He knew where this conversation was heading.

“Um…yeah,” she replied uncertainly, as if she knew this could get her – or someone else - in trouble. “She had a party and uh…her shirt got ripped.”

“Let me guess,” Kurt said, drawing his voice out. “Daddy was playing with you when this happened?”

“Um…um…”

Blaine groaned from the other side of the bed, apparently awake and eavesdropping on their little exchange. “It wasn’t my fault,” he grunted sourly, but Kurt could hear the laughter woven into his tone. “It was a pretty rockin’ party, and Barbie was just enjoying herself.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth innocently chimed in. “Barbie was having a great time!”

Kurt turned to his back and laughed, letting the warmth of it bubble through his chest and out into the open air of the living room. This was not the first time one of Barbie’s handmade outfits had suffered at the hands of Blaine’s inadvertent zeal during playtime. Kurt ran his fingers through his hair, then rolled back toward Lizzie. “Okay, sweet pie,” he said. “Barbie will get a new shirt, as soon as I get some new fabrics.”

Elizabeth grinned sweetly at him. “Okay! Yay! Thank you, Daddy!”

Kurt kissed her head and laughed even harder when Blaine made a face at him from across the bed.

*

“Ugh. I have nothing to wear,” Kurt complained. He was hunched over his suitcase on the living room floor, his hair still wet from his recent shower. “Why did you let me pack my own stuff? I didn’t bring anything I need.”

Blaine pulled his shirt over his head, adjusting it on his shoulders as he looked down at Kurt from where he stood next to the pullout couch. “Baby, you wouldn’t let me near your closet that night, remember?”

Kurt stopped rooting through his case and looked up at Blaine, guilt written on his face. Blaine waved his hand dismissively, as if to let Kurt know that his feelings weren’t hurt from any action taken two nights previous. Kurt smiled in relief and reached back into the suitcase with one eyebrow raised. “Seriously, though…” He held up a sweater that was three sizes too small, covered in gaudy sequins, and was probably part of a costume from his production of Pip Pip Hooray from back in the day. “What the hell was I thinking the other night?”

Blaine chuckled at the sweater and stooped to kiss Kurt on the head. “I don’t think you stopped to think,” he said softly. “You just wanted to get here.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

“I feel a bit better,” Kurt said slowly, looking up at Blaine as his hands wilted down to the case, dropping the sweater back into it. “Now that I’ve seen him.”

Blaine leaned to kiss him again on the head, but Kurt angled his face so the kiss fell on his lips instead. “I’m glad,” Blaine said with a small smile.

*

Kurt walked into the kitchen and smiled at Finn and Elizabeth, who were finishing their cereal at the table. He walked to the counter to grab the coffee pot, then one-handedly retrieved a mug from the cupboard above his head and filled it to the brim.

“Almost ready?” he asked Finn, setting the pot back into the holder and taking a cautious sip from his mug.

Finn swallowed and his spoon clunked back into his bowl. “Yup. Just gotta put my shoes on.” He placed his bowl in the sink and exited the kitchen, thumping up the stairs.

Lizzie looked up at Kurt from the table as Blaine walked into the kitchen, heading towards Kurt and the coffee. “Are you going to see Pop-Pop now?” she asked.

Kurt kissed her head, careful not to spill from his mug. “Yes, baby.”

“And you’re gonna come with me!” Blaine said to her, ruffling her hair as he filled his own cup. “We’re going to go visit some cool places today.”

Lizzie’s eyes grew wide and she grinned, clearly excited as she took another bite of cereal. Having been raised exclusively in New York, one of her favorite things in the world was sightseeing. The three of them could wander for hours around the city, with Lizzie perched on Blaine’s shoulders, asking questions about their surroundings a mile a minute. It was one of their cherished weekend pastimes, when Kurt was afforded free weekends from work.

Finn came back into the kitchen, shoes on, car keys in hand. Kurt gulped down his coffee, placed the mug in the sink, and kissed Blaine and Elizabeth. The two left then, climbing into Finn’s car and heading back towards the hospital.

“All right, kiddo,” Blaine said, eyeing her with a sparkling smile. “Let’s get you dressed and head out!”

*

Burt didn’t look much better that day, though the doctors kept insisting that he was right on track in his recovery, and still in a minimal amount of pain, considering. Kurt glared at the tubes leading into his father’s arms, but when Burt opened his eyes, Kurt smiled sweetly at him and took his hand. Finn took his other one.

No one spoke, and Burt’s sons held his hands until his eyes slowly slid closed again.

Finn’s phone buzzed in his pocket then, and he pulled it out, stepping outside Burt’s door to take the call. Kurt couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it sounded as though Finn was stuttering about something, trying to make an excuse but then changing his mind. “I’ll be right in,” he said loudly then, and Kurt heard him click the phone closed.

“I gotta head back,” Finn said, motioning a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s an issue at the shop.” He hesitated, then said softly, “I promised Burt I’d look after it for him.”

Kurt nodded. “It’s okay, you go. I’m going to stay with him.”

“Okay.” Finn turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. “Hey, Kurt?”

Kurt looked away from his father’s hospital gown, where it was sliding down from his clavicles, revealing the top of the gauze bandage that he knew stretched down the length of his chest, partially covering his dad’s heart. “Yeah?”

“It’s good to see ya, man.”

Kurt smiled at his stepbrother. “You too,” he said sincerely, and Finn grinned and left.

Carole came into the room then, holding half a sandwich for later and a stack of magazines for now. She handed Kurt half the stack with a wan smile, and then settled next to him to read as he leaned back in his chair with a deflated sigh.

Kurt wanted his dad back.

*

It wasn’t until after he and Carole had split the half of tuna on toasted rye – which had turned a little soggy, but had done the job of nourishing them – that Blaine called him with an update on their adventures. It had been a mutual decision before showers this morning that neither Burt nor Elizabeth were ready to see each other, and Blaine had relied heavily on Kurt’s description of his father’s appearance since he hadn’t seen him himself. They didn’t want Lizzie to be scared at the sight of Burt, so they were waiting to take her to see him until Burt looked a little more...like himself.

She suspected nothing for the time being, however. Blaine wasn’t able to get two words in to Kurt over the phone before there was a scuffling sound on the other end of the line, and Elizabeth’s tinny voice sounded in Kurt’s ear.

“Daddy, Daddy, guess what!” she screeched happily, and Kurt grinned hard, leaning against the wall outside Burt’s room.

“What, sweet pie?”

“We visited Daddy’s school today!” she shouted. “It was called…um…”

“Dalton Academy,” Kurt heard Blaine supply helpfully, his voice sounding somewhat distant yet still nearby.

“Dalton Academy!” she cried with delight. “It was so pretty! It had a big staircase and a harp! Can we get a harp? Can we get a harp so I can play it?”

Kurt grinned even harder at his daughter’s obvious joy. “Maybe when you’re a little older, we can get one,” he said, and Elizabeth squealed in triumph.

Blaine came back on the line then. “How’re things?” he asked gently. Kurt could still hear Lizzie’s rapid chatter in the background; no doubt Blaine was holding her as they spoke.

“Same,” he replied. “Dad’s still resting. The doctors are thinking he’s going to be out for a while.”

“Okay,” Blaine said, his tone sympathetic.

“Would you like to come see him?” Kurt asked then, knowing that Blaine had probably been itching to but had held off for his sake.

“Yes,” Blaine said immediately. “But only when you’re ready.”

Kurt shook his head in disbelief, as he’d been right on the money. After sixteen years, they knew each other so well it was almost scary. “Ask Lizzie how she feels about the park,” Kurt offered, and when Blaine asked her, another round of squeals echoed over the phone. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Kurt said, laughing. “Tell her she’s got a date with me and the park as soon as you get here.”

*

Kurt pushed his daughter on the swing, watching as the breeze ruffled her blonde hair, separating the thin tendrils until they curled at the ends. She giggled and turned her face to the sky, where the sun was starting to die down, inching slowly towards the horizon. They stayed like that for another five minutes, Kurt’s thoughts on his dad and Blaine and the wonderful sound of his daughter’s laughter, until Lizzie dug her feet into the ground and dragged herself to a stop.

“Is Pop-Pop sick?” she asked bluntly, craning her neck to see Kurt, who was standing behind her.

He looked down at her, then scuffed through the dirt to stand in front of her. He kneeled down so they were eye to eye. “He was sick,” Kurt said delicately. “But the doctors made him better.”

Lizzie looked genuinely confused. “But why can’t he come home? Why’s he still at the hos—the hosti—“

“Hospital,” Kurt filled in gently.

“Hos…pital,” she repeated, making sure to pronounce it right.

Kurt ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “He had a big operation,” he explained. “On his heart. So he has to stay in the hospital to rest and get better.”

Lizzie nodded like she understood, but her eyes still conveyed that the whole situation was confusing for her. “Can I see him?” she asked then.

“Very soon, you can,” Kurt told her. “I promise.”

“Okay.” And she grinned at him, showing off her little white teeth.

*

When they got home later that night, Blaine and Finn were already there, and Blaine was setting out plates for dinner. Carole was spending another night in the ICU with Burt (Kurt seriously needed to learn how she managed to do that for a second night in a row), so Blaine had taken a frozen lasagna of hers and heated it up for them all to eat.

After dinner, Kurt mindlessly watched Matilda with Lizzie, his thoughts too preoccupied with his dad and sketches he had forgotten about for work that needed some extra touches to pay any real attention to the movie. He changed Lizzie into her sleepclothes once it ended, then put her down on the pullout couch. She curled up immediately, her little face resting against the pillow, fast asleep.

Kurt wandered through the living room until he came upon the stereo, which was surprisingly still on. The CD player was paused in the middle of a song, and Kurt made sure the volume was turned down low before he hit play, his curiosity piqued.

His own voice hit his ears, and Kurt realized that it was the CD he’d made in high school, when Blaine had borrowed some recording software from a fellow Warbler for his computer and had helped Kurt set a microphone up in his room, and they’d spent the afternoon recording Kurt singing everything from Broadway to the Beatles. It was a Beatles song that played now, filling his mind with memories.

Blaine drifted into the room then, his face a question mark. He listened for a few moments, then locked eyes with Kurt.

“Remember this?” Kurt asked him softly.

“How could I forget?” Blaine replied, just as quietly. “You were singing this when I realized I was in love with you.”

Kurt slowly walked towards him, past the bed, and Blaine took his hand. “I thought you realized you loved me at the Lima Bean,” he joked.

Blaine pulled him close, putting one arm around Kurt’s waist and using the other to hold their hands against his chest, over his heart. “I’m pretty sure I loved you from the moment you told me your name.”

Kurt smiled at him, tipping his forehead so it rested against Blaine’s. “The feeling was mutual,” he whispered, then tilted his face to capture Blaine’s mouth with his own.

They stayed there, in the doorway of the living room, the light from the kitchen cascading over their bodies as they swayed together gently, the quiet tones of Kurt’s voice and Blackbird washing over them.

Later, in bed, with Lizzie nestled between them, Kurt reached over her, pressing his flat palm against Blaine’s chest. After a moment of stillness, Blaine placed his hand over Kurt’s, pressing harder so he could feel the thumping beneath their palms. Steady, strong, and always for Kurt.

His heart hadn’t belonged to him since they were sixteen.