If you asked him, Kurt wouldn't be able to tell you what woke him at such an ungodly hour in the morning. Maybe he had noticed Blaine's absence, a shift in the warmth and weight of the mattress. He considered waiting, still warm beneath the covers, but Blaine’s side of the bed was cold, too cold for an early morning bathroom trip. He had a good feeling that he knew exactly where he would be and if Kurt didn’t drag him back to bed he’d be there all night. Sighing he threw back the covers and padded softly out of their bedroom. There was a light glowing at the end of the hallway and as Kurt's fingers curled around the door jam, he paused at the sight before him. The night-light was on its lowest setting coating the walls in a comforting pink glow. In the centre of the room, stood Blaine, bent over watching. Kurt had caught him slipping in here and humming or singing and once, which Blaine blatantly denies, imitating zoo animals. But now, now, he was still. Kurt crept silently into the room, slipping his arms gently around Blaine's waist. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Blaine shifted slightly to look over his shoulders. "Yeah, she is. Our little angel" The baby girl slept on peacefully completely unaware of how her simple existence affected the men standing above her. If you asked him, Kurt wouldn't be able to tell you how long they stayed like that, watching over Elizabeth, watching over their daughter.  

It was quarter to five on a still Sunday morning and giraffes and fathers stood guard over a little girl’s dreams.