Kurt could hear the music before the elevator door even opened.

He'd only stepped one foot into the hallway of his floor when he heard a cranky voice call, “What's that crazy husband of yours up to today?”

Kurt struggled past Mr. Roberts' door, holding tightly to two packed grocery bags – which were cutting off the circulation in his fingers – and angled his face around Ryan's head, where he was strapped to Kurt's body.

“Sorry, Mr. Roberts,” Kurt grumbled out. “He's a musician, you know…needs to practice.” Only a few more steps and he'd be past the unwelcome inquisition and into more friendly territory, otherwise known as Mrs. Matheson's corner, which was right across from theirs.

Kurt swore he heard Mr. Roberts mumble something about him keeping Blaine on a leash as he slammed his door back shut, and Kurt huffed a section of hair out of his eyes, kissing Ryan's head as he reached their door. He placed a bag on the hallway floor, then finagled his keys out of one pocket. Ryan was squirming, one foot unknowingly dug into Kurt's side as he hip-checked the door open, crouched down to grab the bag back up, and used his foot to make sure the door didn't whack closed behind him.

The music already had Ryan's attention, and he was straining forward, trying to get from Kurt to Blaine, who was sitting in the living room directly ahead of them, at his piano. His back was to the front door and he was jamming out so hard he didn't hear Kurt come in.

Kurt was sweating and his back was aching and there was a part of his shirt right under the collar that Ryan had sneezed into twice before Kurt had switched him around, to face outside instead of in. Kurt hadn't been able to do his hair and was lucky he'd been afforded the two minutes to brush his teeth earlier this morning. He was also pretty sure he had half of Ryan's lunch still lodged under his fingernails, and another thought of it now made him shudder in disgust.

Kurt was a mess. And Blaine chose that moment to toss his head back and start singing unabashedly along with the music he was slamming out on the piano.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain
Too much love drives a man insane
You broke my will
But what a thrill
Goodness gracious great balls of fire!

Kurt quickly placed the bags on the kitchen table, then slipped Ryan to the floor, making sure his feet were steady on the ground before letting go of him. Ryan took off immediately, heading for Blaine. Ryan's fascination with Blaine's piano had started from day one, and almost every time Blaine sat there to practice Ryan would sit there, too – sometimes helping Daddy play, other times just watching Daddy's fingers as they graced the keys and mesmerized him with Daddy's latest beautiful but haunting melody.

Feeling Ryan's tug on his pants didn't even faze Blaine. He turned his head to grin at his son, fingers still dancing effortlessly over the ivory. Toward the end of the verse, Blaine angled his face down close to Ryan's, and he whacked a chord out, cuing Ryan into the song.

“Goodness gracious—“

“GREAT BAWS OHFIRE!”

Blaine lifted Ryan up to the bench, nestling him in between his legs, and started the next verse. In seconds Kurt could hear Ryan's laughter, bubbling up from in between Blaine's voice and the notes from the piano, and he glanced over to find Blaine bouncing his knees, which rattled Ryan's whole body. Ryan held steadfastly to Blaine's pants and giggled with pure delight. When they reached the I wanna tell this world that you're mine mine mine mine part, Ryan was positively screeching with joy, his head lolling back on Blaine's chest.

Kurt put the groceries away while Blaine finished banging the song out with a flourish. There was one thing of which Kurt was certain: if he came home and found Blaine wailing on the piano with absolutely no thought of how he could be disrupting the neighbors (or damaging his piano) it meant that Blaine had had a bad day. A very bad day, in which he needed to release his tension in a positive manner. Otherwise Kurt would have one very upset husband to contend with later in the night.

And for tonight, that simply wouldn't do.

“Hi honey,” Kurt called from the kitchen. “I got those cashews you like.”

“The sesame ones?”

Blaine's voice was closer now, and Kurt turned from the fridge to find him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, holding Ryan with one arm.

“The very same,” Kurt agreed, and Blaine's smile lit up his face. He crossed the kitchen floor and looped his free arm around Kurt's waist, pressing his lips to Kurt's.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling appreciatively.

Kurt smoothed his hands down Blaine's face, pecking his mouth once more. “You're welcome. I think you should have some now. I take it you had a bad day?”

Blaine turned to the table, where the bag of cashews lay. He rolled his eyes with an ugh, and sat with Ryan in his lap. “I'll tell you later. Don't want to get into it right now. I'm finally starting to feel better.”

“Okay.” Kurt nodded in understanding. He watched as Blaine popped a few whole cashews into his mouth, then reached into the bag for a couple smaller pieces, holding them out for Ryan to take. After his first taste, Ryan beamed up at Blaine, who in turn grinned right back down at him.

“Did you confirm with Rachel?” Kurt asked, glancing at the clock.

“Yup, she'll be here in an hour,” Blaine said around a mouthful of cashew.

“An hour?” Kurt cried. “Shit.”

Blaine pretended to look scandalized at Kurt's sudden profanity. “Kurt!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. “Little pitchers have big ears!”

“I hate that saying!” Kurt shot back. “What does it even mean, anyway?”

“It means,” Blaine drawled, glancing down at Ryan, “that Papa needs to watch his mouth. Doesn't he?” Blaine cooed at Ryan, who stuck two fingers in his mouth and giggled.

Kurt couldn't help but snark back at his husband. “Yeah, well, you were certainly watching my mouth enough for the both of us last night when it was wrapped around your c—“

“Ooh, double whammy!” Blaine cut him off, trying to bite down his smile. “And I thought I was the one who had a bad day!”

Kurt rubbed the back of his neck with a worn-out sigh. “Not bad. Just…life. I'm gonna go get in the shower.”

“You look fine,” Blaine told him honestly. “You don't have to shower.”

“I feel gross,” Kurt replied. “I've been sneezed on, stepped on, splashed by a taxi, and some Neanderthal of a woman ran over my foot with her shopping cart.” Bitch. “She's lucky she didn't try for the last wedge of brie. I would have gone nuclear on her.” He took a deep breath. “I need a moment to collect myself.”

“Okay,” Blaine said sympathetically. “Don't rush.”

Kurt nodded and left the kitchen just in time to hear Ryan sneeze yet again, and Blaine cried (almost proudly – god, he was such a boy sometimes), “Nice shot, kiddo! Now let's clean you – and me – up!”

Kurt took Blaine's advice, relishing his shower, standing under the stream of hot water for longer than was actually necessary. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out into the hall, listening. Blaine and Ryan were back in the living room with the TV on. Blaine was talking lowly to Ryan and he was answering back in his adorable high-pitched and overeager voice, which was making Blaine laugh softly under his breath.

Kurt slipped into his bedroom and sat at his vanity. He rolled his shoulders a couple of times, reveling in the feel of his clean, smooth skin as he ran his fingers down his arms. His damp hair felt wonderful against his neck, and he silently thanked Blaine for being the best husband on the planet, because he was deliberately keeping Ryan busy so Kurt could pretty himself up with no interruptions.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Kurt was ready. His face had been moisturized, hair dried and styled to perfection, clothes chosen with absolute precision and care. One of the best things about living in New York City and having a two-year-old at home was that it pretty much kept him awesomely in shape without him having to go out of the way of his normal routine. So his jeans still hugged every blessed curve he had, every tantalizing straight line, every nuance his lower half had to offer. And his shirt and vest did the same.

It had been a long time since Kurt had dressed like this. Sure, he was impeccable at work every day – as the fashion industry called for it – but tonight was special.

Tonight was date night. And date night dress was completely different from business casual dress.

The doorbell rang, and Rachel's voice drifted into the apartment. He heard her exchange pleasantries with Blaine, and then Rachel was cooing over Ryan, who was no doubt pulling on her skirt as he cried, “Auntie Waychel! Auntie Waychel!” in an excited voice.

Kurt chose to make his entrance then. He walked swiftly down the hall into the living room, and all three of them – Rachel, Blaine, and Ryan – were instantly silenced by his appearance.

After a beat:

“Papa looks pretty!” Ryan shouted, and Blaine and Rachel dissolved into laughter.

“Yes he does,” Blaine agreed, then looked back up at Kurt. “Wow. I haven't seen you dressed like that in—“

“Two years?” Kurt filled in, grinning. Since the day Ryan had come into their lives, basically.

Blaine laughed. “Pretty much, yeah.” He gave him a blatant once-over, eyes traveling from his shoes up. “Holy shit, Kurt.”

Kurt raised his finger. “Ah! Now Daddy…little pitchers have big ears, am I right?”

Blaine comically clapped a hand to his mouth. “Forgot! Whoops.”

Kurt just laughed. “Your turn to get ready.”

As Blaine passed by him, Kurt gave him a wink and a slap on the rear, which sent his husband laughing into the shower.

Mercifully, Blaine took about a quarter of the time Kurt did to get ready, so he was done before Kurt and Rachel had even finished catching up. Blaine was wearing a simple maroon polo that was belted into dark jeans, and he smelled divine, thanks to the cologne Kurt had gotten him for Christmas.

“I think we need to get a picture, to document the occasion,” Rachel suggested. “First date night in…what? Six months?”

“More like almost a year,” Blaine told her. He handed her his digital camera, and they posed in the living room while Rachel snapped the photo.

They gathered their jackets and said their goodbyes, assuring Ryan they would be back soon, and reminded Rachel that Mrs. Matheson was always available for immediate backup, if she needed it. Sometimes babysitting Ryan was a two-person job.

Kurt and Blaine exited their apartment together, Blaine locking the door behind them. Kurt could feel Blaine's eyes on him as they made their way to the elevator, and he smiled to himself. When the elevator car arrived, they stepped on, and Kurt found himself humming a tune that he didn't realize was swirling inside his head until Blaine picked it up and started humming back. They hit the end of the verse together, and with a sweeping look up and down Kurt's form, Blaine finished with a sultry and pointed, “Goodness gracious…”

Great balls of fire.