Kurt put the last pin into the sleeve of the silk organza dress when he noticed it, and his blood ran cold. Silence. Absolute quiet. With four rowdy kids in his life, the last thing he wanted to hear was nothing. He looked at his watch. 2:15. He had been at this dress for over two hours. Kurt actually felt panicked. Where were they? He stepped outside his little backyard studio and took a look around. Another peaceful L.A. day, with the sun bright overhead, and the wind blowing through the branches of the trees.

But nowhere could he see hide or hair of his kids.

Come to think of it, where the hell was Blaine?

Then, Kurt knew.

He stomped through the back patio doors and found them where he had so many afternoons this week – four children and Blaine, covered in head to toe mud, sneaking into the bathroom.

“Blaine Devon Anderson!” Kurt practically screeched. “This is the third time this week! We're digging a pool outside, not a mud wrestling pit!”

Blaine tried to look ashamed, but he only managed mildly sheepish, especially with little Eva squirming in his arms, giggling, as she squished a clod of still damp dirt between her fingers.

“Oh, come on,” Blaine said, shifting the little girl from hip to hip to keep her steady. “It's not going to be a big, fun dirt pit for too much longer. Besides, how can you have four kids and a big back yard and not get dirty? Isn't it some sort of requirement?”

Kurt huffed.

“Look at me, Blaine,” Kurt said, motioning to his spotless ensemble. “How many years have I had these kids, and do you see a spot of dirt on me? Huh? No! That's right.”

Blaine hung his head, finally looking properly ashamed.

“You're right, Kurt,” Blaine said, a smile hidden in his voice. “There's not a speck of dirt on you.”

Then, Blaine's eyes flicked up, their teasing glint all too clear.

Kurt shook his head, reaching behind him for the door knob.

"Blaine..." Kurt said, his voice a warning, "dont you dare..."

“Come on, kids!” Blaine yelled to the gaggle of little kids, “Get him!”