Hush, little baby
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Hush, little baby: Chapter 5


E - Words: 1,037 - Last Updated: Jul 09, 2012
Story: Closed - Chapters: 7/? - Created: Oct 08, 2011 - Updated: Jul 09, 2012
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Author's Notes: I suck at writing long chapters.
It takes Carole the best part of a minute to stop screaming and remember which son she is talking to and which one is more likely to have fathered a child in the time they’d both been away from her.

‘What? Kurt? I- I don’t understand’ she says finally

Kurt snorts into the receiver and a grudging smile plays on his lips as he strokes the baby’s nose and she kicks her tiny feet and flexes her hands, desperate for something to hold.

‘I…’ says Kurt distractedly, ‘I made a new friend at work and his wife just had a baby’ and he pauses, mesmerised by the tiny human being, how she blinks how she looks at him with such unjudging eyes. Now he understands why girls melt over babies, why parents will talk of their offspring and very little else for the rest of their lives, how his father could love him so much.

‘And you’re babysitting?’ says Carole in confusion, ‘How old is he?’

‘She’ corrects Kurt, ‘She’s one day old’

‘Kurt? Are you sure you should be looking after her? Where are her parents?’ Carole says and Kurt can hear mounting concern edging into her voice

‘Her mother died giving birth to her’ Kurt’s voice drops to a whisper ‘and Blaine, her dad, is not in a good place right now, I was there and I just sort of… ended up here…’ and his voice trails off as he realises how absurd the whole situation is.

‘Kurt’ says Carole gently ‘Do you need us to come up?’ and Kurt immediately thinks Oh God yes, yes please, just let me get back to the fairly normal life I was just having and save me from this kid and this kid from me.

But for reasons known only to the higher order in the sky he says ‘No, it’s ok, we’ll manage, Blaine’s fine really, just a little… shocked. Thanks though Carole. But while you’re here you couldn’t do a crash course on how to raise a child, any specifics for children that aren’t your own would be great’

And that’s how the rest of the day goes, Kurt learning how to care for a baby with Carole taking him through step- by – step. He learns what milk to buy, how to bath a baby in a kitchen sink, how to place her for a nap (NEVER ON HER FRONT). He and the baby make it through to bedtime with a lot of guidance and by the end of the day Kurt is more exhausted than he’s ever been in his life. He puts the baby down with the brand new monitor he picked up at the store today with the $200 in Blaine’s wallet.
********

He’d picked up the suitcase he’d been living out of for the past month and made himself a bed in the spare room and that’s where he lay, listening for the cries of a child or the movements of a man.

That evening he’d sat eating a microwave pasta dish which, to his repulsion, smelt like Finn’s high school football boots, a pair of shoes his charming elder brother point-blank refused to throw away as he’d won his one and only football game in them. The baby had been peaceful upstairs watching a repeat of House when he’d heard movement on the stairs and Blaine walked past the room, not giving any sign that he knew a stranger was sat on his couch, watching his TV listening for the cries of his child. Kurt had watched through the lounge door directly into the kitchen as Blaine had yanked over a cupboard on the far side of the room and pulled out 3 bottles of vodka. He’d cradled them in his arms as he made his way back upstairs and Kurt heard the bedroom door close and a long, harsh silence. Kurt had muted the TV then, put his pasta down, lent back and cried. Hot tears of injustice and anger welled up and he just wanted to get out of this fucking house and run, down the street and keep running until he hit the city centre and a pink dawn was rising and he’d be free.

After those tears Kurt had got up with new determination. This baby was not his responsibility, it was its family’s, all Kurt needed to do was find out who they were and where he could find them.

It was the fourth draw down in the small desk that had been wedged in the space under the stairs where he found the address book. The floral pattern suggested it had been Blaine’s wife’s but there were no details in the front to confirm this, and it wasn’t until the tenth page that he realised it was empty. He’d shoved the offending notebook back into the draw with a great deal of force and he was just shunting the draw back in place when he noticed a worn leather- bound organiser tucked in the side of the draw. He pulled it out and ran upstairs to bed.

Once he was settled on the spare bed he yanked the binding elastic back. To his delight he was rewarded with pages and pages of people. This had obviously been Blaine’s for many years, there were whole pages of one person with lists of numbers, each crossed out as they changed, and addresses too had been stapled in and ripped out, stapled in and ripped out. He started in the ‘As’ for ‘Anderson’ hoping to find a family member to rescue him but the first entry had been scribbled out completely with such force that there were tiny rips where the pen had pressed harshly through the paper. Below that entry was a ‘Cooper Anderson’ with his most recent contact details, Kurt copied the address (somewhere in LA) and phone numbers meticulously onto a sheet of paper he’d taken from the printer. The only other likely- looking Anderson was a ‘Cousin Jackie’ but she lived in Madrid and Kurt new she would not be a viable option.

Kurt worked through the pages for almost 2 hours and by the end he only had two possible saviours he could attempt to contact in the morning.

Cooper and a Quinn Fabray, New York.


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