On Black Friday, Kurt and Blaine went to the Anderson household. They walked through the door, holding hands, and met Kathleen, who had an eager look on her face. “I assume you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something worth being here for.”

“Mom,” said Blaine smugly, and he lifted his left hand to show her his ring. A moment later, Kurt lifted his left hand as well to show her the matching one.

Of course she cried. And of course she hugged them, and kissed them, and all the rest of it. Blaine knew that she’d be thrilled for them. He wasn’t worried about her in the slightest.

Gordon emerged from somewhere in the back of the house and saw Kurt and Blaine’s hands in the air. “What’s all this fuss?” he asked, keeping his distance, as though he might catch some sort of disease if he wandered any further.

Kathleen looked to Blaine with a sense of urgency, but Blaine wasn’t quite sure what the look was supposed to accomplish. He took a deep breath. “Hi, Dad.”

Gordon stood still, expressionless. He hadn’t been all that fond of speaking to Blaine since the graduation party fiasco in front of Grandpa Joe.

“Dad,” Blaine started again. His pulse was racing, but he had practiced saying this so many times that the words flowed anyway. “We’re getting married.” He couldn’t yet manage to say he was marrying Kurt without a stupid grin on his face. He supposed that was a good thing.

Gordon’s face turned red, and he started muttering something under his breath.

“What’s that you’re saying?” asked Kathleen, an unfamiliar bite in her voice.

“Faggot,” he spat.

In that moment, Kurt tensed up, gripping Blaine’s arm tightly with one hand while the other flew over his mouth to cover a shrill gasp. Kathleen’s eyes were ablaze with fury, but she stood very still. It seemed for the two of them that time had stood still for a moment. But Blaine, on the other hand, felt an odd sense of relief wash over him. At least, Blaine thought, it was finally out in the open.

“It’s not right. You’re not right, Blaine.” Gordon turned on his heel and walked away.

Kathleen started to walk towards him, but to Blaine’s surprise, Kurt grabbed her arm and held her back. “Don’t. You’re only going to say something you’ll regret.”

“I don’t think I’d regret it at this point,” she said through a clenched jaw.

“I’ll go talk to him,” said Blaine through a sigh. But Kurt held him back as well.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, either,” said Kurt. “He seems pretty upset.”

“Well, sure,” said Blaine. “But I – maybe I should just – “

“Maybe you should just let it lie for a while,” suggested Kurt.

Blaine tried to protest, but he doubted every possible argument he could think of. Maybe this time, the one time he wanted to, he couldn’t fix this.

Sensing Blaine’s inner turmoil, Kurt squeezed his hand and half-smiled at him. “How about a late lunch out somewhere? I missed Black Friday in New York for all of this. Might as well have some fun, right?” said Kurt. He looked to Kathleen, too. “My treat.”

Later that night, Kurt and Blaine returned to Burt and Carole’s house. Kurt fell asleep quickly with an arm around Blaine’s waist, but after an hour of careful shifting under his embrace, Blaine wriggled out of his grasp and sat up on the edge of the bed, his chin resting in his hands. He stared at the glowing red digits on Kurt’s clock, watching the numbers morph as the minutes passed. He hoped he’d bore himself into sleep, but he felt completely awake. Eventually, he stood up, pulled on a sweatshirt to cover his bare chest, stepped into his shoes, and silently slipped out of Kurt’s room, down the stairs, and out the back door.

“So, what did you say to him?” asked Blaine.

Kathleen was busy fixing Blaine something to eat – her favorite thing to do, it seemed – and was distracted from the conversation. “When?”

“To make him come around like this. What’d you say?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing. I wasn’t sure what you meant in your e-mail when you mentioned that I said something. Did he tell you I said something to him?”

They stared at each other, Blaine’s smile melting into a confused glare. “Well, no. But – when we sent out the invitations, you said you were going to talk him into coming.”

“I did say that. But I never could actually get him to sit down and talk,” she said, dropping the sandwich she was working on and facing Blaine. “Believe me, I tried. We screamed at each other about it, but we never talked. I figured you said something that made him guilty enough to change his mind.”

“No. I barely said anything the whole time. He had his mind made up before I even walked through the door. It was all him.”

They each looked down to the floor, as if the answer was hidden in the impeccably shiny tiles.

“What’re you doing out here?” Kurt hissed from behind him.

Blaine was sitting cross-legged in the grass of the backyard, zoning out in various directions, not fully aware of where he was or what he was thinking. “Oh, I –“ he started, but he had no explanation.

Kurt jammed a coat over Blaine’s shoulders. “It’s freezing. And absurdly late. Or early – whatever. Are you insane?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, finally.

Kurt winced as he settled down next to his fianc�e, ensuring his own coat guarded against the wintery sogginess of the grass beneath him. “Everything all right?”

Blaine scoffed.

“Your dad?” he asked.

Blaine nodded. He felt Kurt’s arm snake around his own, and the warmth from Kurt’s body made him realize just how cold it was outside. And how long had he been out there, anyway? Minutes? Hours? “Well, maybe not just him.”

“It’s not me, is it?” asked Kurt cautiously.

“What?” Blaine said, snapping his head to look at Kurt. “No, of course not,” he insisted. He pressed his lips to Kurt’s cheek.

“You’re freezing,” Kurt reiterated, lingering long enough to accept Blaine’s kiss before promptly pushing him away to rewarm his cheek with his hand. “But I’m glad.”

“Do you think I could ever be a father?” blurted Blaine.

Kurt was a little taken aback by the question. “Are we talking biology here?”

“No. I mean emotionally.”

Kurt stifled a yawn. “Of course, silly.”

“I want us to have a family,” said Blaine, very serious and forceful.

“Slow down, tiger. We’ll get there. Let’s get married first.”

“I know, I know. But what if I treat our kid the same way my dad treats me?”

“Blaine,” said Kurt, who would probably be laughing if he weren’t so tired, “you know you won’t. There’s no way you’d do that.”

“What if I’m too messed up by my past?”

“You’re serious?” asked Kurt, tugging Blaine closer to him. “You’re sleep-deprived. Come back to bed,” he said gently, stroking at his hair.

“No,” whined Blaine. “I’m fine. It’s not that late. I’ll just – I just want to stay out here for a few more minutes.”

“It’s 4:30 in the morning,” Kurt scowled. “We’re leaving for the airport in seven hours, and you’re disrupting your fianc�e’s beauty sleep.”

4:30? Blaine wondered when all that time had passed. And he had forgotten that they were leaving for New York again. Where was his head, anyway? “I’m scared,” he whispered. He was so quiet that Kurt almost didn’t hear him.

“Scared of what?”

Blaine shrugged, feeling stupid. “Forget it. You’re tired. Just go back to bed. I’ll come back soon.”

“C’mon, now,” said Kurt, putting a hand on Blaine’s thigh and squeezing. “What are you scared of?”

Blaine stalled, pulling at a few blades of grass with cold, clumsy fingers. “Not caring,” he said. “I didn’t care when my own father called me a faggot.”

Kurt nodded, his eyes opening a bit wider with concern. “I’m sure you cared.”

“Not even a little,” he said.

“Well,” said Kurt, “if you didn’t care, would you really be sitting out here all night thinking about it?”

“I care that I didn’t care. It’s different from caring.”

Kurt blinked at him, then crinkled his nose. “What?”

Blaine looked straight ahead, not hearing Kurt at all. “Am I such a heartless bastard that I can’t feel anything anymore? Maybe I’m just numb. Like, I’m a shell of a person.”

“Okay, no,” snapped Kurt, standing up suddenly and pulling Blaine with him. “The only numb you are is numb from the cold.” Once Blaine was on his feet, Kurt readjusted their coats and led them back into the house without another word. He dragged Blaine back into the bedroom and tucked him tightly under the covers (with an extra blanket on top). Then, he curled up behind him and stroked his hair gently. “You are a beautiful person,” he whispered into Blaine’s ear, “in every way. Inside. Outside. Every-side. And if we have kids one day, you’ll love them unconditionally, and they’ll love you back just the same – until they’re teenagers, at which point they’ll hate both of us, and we can sit and hold each other’s hands while we think of ways to give them the freedoms we always wanted while still crafting them into wonderful human beings. Wonderful as you.”

Blaine felt sleepy from the warmth of the situation. He managed to get an arm out from under the sheets and reached it around himself to grip Kurt’s forearm, squeezing it.

“I think they’ll call you Daddy, and me Dad. What do you think?” asked Kurt.

Blaine smiled involuntarily. “I think…” he yawned, “maybe the other way ‘round…it’s…” But he fell asleep mid-sentence, thoughts of his and Kurt’s future dancing in his head.

Kurt kissed the shell of Blaine’s ear and held him tight in a hug before falling back to sleep himself.

From: Blaine Anderson < b.anderson@gmail.com >
To: Kurt Hummel < khummel@gmail.com >

Subject: Re: Re: Hell Froze Over

Henry likes football. Not scarves. I’m not going to force him to change: he was born that way. :)

So, apparently my mom said nothing to my dad about the wedding. He just came to this conclusion on his own…? I don’t know.
Also, just FYI, I land around 4 p.m. on Sunday evening. Can I take you out to dinner after I get back to the apartment? Make a reservation somewhere fun. Go for 6:30 just in case I’m delayed. And it’s on me (don’t try to protest).

Your dad called me. I assume you told him I’m in town. We’re going to lunch this afternoon. Anything I should tell him other than hi?
I miss you so much. Two more days…try not to punch anyone in the meantime.

Love,
Blaine

From: Kurt Hummel < khummel@gmail.com >
To: Blaine Anderson < b.anderson@gmail.com >

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hell Froze Over

You shut up with that silly high school humor. How do you even remember that?

I did, indeed, tell my dad you were around. I figured you might need a pick-me-up after dealing with your dad. Turns out you didn’t…but all the same, my dad and Carole are always happy to see you. And I guess since you offered, please tell him that I don’t care what deal Enzo gives him, he cannot wear a purple tux to the wedding. It will completely clash with our color scheme.

No protests here! I called and got a table at Fiorello’s, but earliest they could do was 7:45. Oh well…leaves time for something else beforehand. ;) Cannot. Wait.

The only person/thing I would ever punch is Henry. And he’s been oddly adorable since you left. So everyone’s safe. You better not punch anyone either!

Love and all that,
K

P.S.
Really? Your mom said nothing? Huh…very interesting. I’m going to call you in a couple hours once I’m out of work. We should talk about this more.