“I am not going to keep him, Blaine,” Kurt insisted that night over skype. The puppy, bathed, fed and given a clean bill of health, was curled up in his lap. “I just couldn’t leave him there. If you’d have seen him…”

“If I’d have seen him I wouldn’t be questioning it,” Blaine interrupted. “It’s fate, Kurt.”

Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled at Blaine’s image. He stroked the soft, curly black fur behind one of the puppy’s ears. He kicked a fuzzy leg and gave a blissful sigh.

“What are you going to name him?”

“I’m not naming him. I’m not keeping him, Blaine.”

“Aw, come on, Kurt. Why not?”

“I don’t have time for a dog, the building doesn’t allow dogs-”

“Didn’t you say your upstairs neighbor has one anyway? She’s been living there for years with no problem, right? And I’m sure Rachel would help you take care of him, you know how she always wanted a dog but her Dads were allergic…”

“Blaine.” Kurt gave an exasperated sigh. He glanced down at the puppy. His eyes were open and he was gazing up at Kurt with pure adoration. Something in the expression dug straight to the center of Kurt’s heart. “We’ll see,” he added, very softly. Blaine gave a little squeal of excitement.

Later that week, Kurt was organizing his closet. Things had been suspiciously quiet for a bit too long, and he gave a perfunctory glance around the room.

Everything seemed perfectly normal. Except for the fact that a pile of bow ties appeared to be moving.

“Gavroche!” Kurt ran over to the bed and seized the puppy from the nest of ties, pulling a now slobber-covered red and white argyle tie from his tiny mouth.

Yes. Kurt had named him. There was no more talk of giving Gavroche away.

Gavroche clamped down on the tie and gave a playful growl, tugging the tie away from Kurt. Kurt made a frustrated sound – he loved that tie. Blaine had gotten him that-

Wait.

Kurt looked down at the puppy in his arms, happily chewing on the less and less salvageable-looking tie.

At the argyle print against the curly black fur.

At the big, sweet, playful yet earnest eyes, so full of trust and-

“Oh my god.”

Kurt put Gavroche back down on the bed and successfully wrestled the tie away from him. He bit his lip while he let his hands do the familiar work, then picked up the puppy and headed into the kitchen.

“Rachel.”

“Hmmm?” She was leaning against the counter reading a script, the tofurkey and sunflower seed wrap she had been in the middle of preparing all but forgotten.

“Look.”

She glanced up. “Aaaaw, you put him in a bow tie! Kurt, he’s adorable – can I hold him?”

“No, Rachel, look at him.”

Rachel furrowed her brows but studied the puppy for a moment before a smile broke out across her face. She pressed a hand to her mouth, but it did little to suppress the bubble of laughter that followed.

“Oh my god, I need therapy, don’t I?” Kurt groaned.

“No, Kurt, it’s cute. I know how much you miss Blaine, and now it makes so much sense that you let us keep him. I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.”

“The eyes, though.”

“Oh, I know. It’s uncanny.” Rachel reached for Gavroche and he wagged his tail in anticipation. She cradled him in her arms. “Now I know why I was so smitten by you, don’t I?” She cooed in a baby voice. “You remind me of my second favorite gay in the world.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Rachel, what about your fathers?”

“Oh. Right. Well, fourth favorite, then, but that’s still nothing to sneeze at. Especially with all the new friends I’ve made since getting to New York.”

Kurt looked at the bow tie-clad puppy in Rachel’s arms and couldn’t help but smile. “Just don’t let him get drunk and play spin the bottle with you, okay?”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

That night over skype, Blaine was scowling. “I can’t believe I remind you of a dog,” he complained.

“You don’t remind me of him, he reminds me of you. Oh come on, Blaine, look at him.” Kurt pouted slightly and held Gavroche up to the webcam, and Blaine’s expression softened.

“Kurt. You put your puppy in a bow tie.”

“No, we tried that already and it didn’t work out so well. This is actually a dog collar that looks like a bow tie. Look – here’s his ID tag and everything. Much sturdier than the real thing, and less of a choking hazard.”

Blaine tilted his head back slightly, his face settling into the flirty, potent, private smile he reserved for Kurt alone. “Should I be jealous?”

Kurt laughed. “Of his bow tie collection? Eventually. Right now he just has the one, but he seems to have taken to it. And of course this particular collar won’t go with half my wardrobe, so.”

“Not of his bow tie collection, smartass,” Blaine smirked.

“You never need to be jealous of anyone when it comes to me, Blaine,” Kurt said softly, letting Gavroche down when he began to wriggle. “I just…I got a puppy – a stray, dirty puppy, mind you, that I can’t afford and shouldn’t have kept but will now be spending the next decade or two of my life with, all because of you.” Kurt folded his arms in front of his laptop and perched his chin on his forearms. He looked up at Blaine’s image through his eyelashes. “That should tell you how madly – and I do mean madly, as in mentally unstable – in love with you I am.”

Blaine was smiling so hard Kurt was afraid he might sprain something, and it was hard to tell through the digital image, but his eyes looked wet. “I love you too.” Kurt loved the way he said it, like just forming the words themselves made Blaine indescribably happy.

“I miss you. Gavroche is wonderful, but he’s no Blaine Anderson.”

“He is cute, though.”

“Not as cute as you.”

“You sure about that answer?”

Kurt let his eyes flit between the gorgeous man on the screen in front of him and the fuzzy puppy chewing on a rubber bone on the floor.

“Different kinds of cute,” Kurt conceded. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. I miss you.”

Blaine swallowed. “Three weeks,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “Three weeks is nothing. We’ll make it. And at least you have Gavroche.”

Blaine pouted slightly, and Kurt resisted the urge to tell him how similar the expression was to the way Gavroche looked when a successful bid for table scraps resulted in something vegan.

“You have Margaret,” Kurt pointed out.

“I will thank you not to address the Baroness Thatcher as such,” Blaine sniffed.

Kurt laughed. “Well, my sincerest apologies to the Baroness. And to you - I should really head to bed. I’ve got class in the morning.”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “You just want an excuse to cuddle that other man you’ve taken up with, don’t you?”

Kurt smiled, and kissed his own fingertips before pressing them to the computer screen. Blaine did the same.

“What can I say?” Kurt replied fondly. “I guess I’m just a sucker for black curls and bow ties.”