When Blaine comes home after work, his husband is absolutely giddy, rushing into his arms before he can even put his bag down, and pecking kisses all over his face.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Blaine chuckles. “Is there something going on here, or are you just happy to see me?”

Kurt pulls back with a pout on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.

“I'm always happy to see you,” he says, relieving his husband of the bag on his shoulder and the coat he has draped over his arm, “but yes, I have news.”

“Okay,” Blaine says, mildly befuddled as Kurt ushers him to the couch and pushes him onto the center cushion, “let's hear it.”

Kurt deposits Blaine's things next to him, then hurries to stand in front of him, beside two navy blue garment bags lying over one of their high back chairs. Kurt's so hyped up about whatever he has to say, that Blaine half-expects him to break into song.

“Alright,” Kurt says, “remember when you suggested that before we start the process of adopting our very own special little five- or six-year-old that maybe we should consider practicing?” Kurt puts unnecessary emphasis on the word and Blaine refrains from rolling his eyes a bit, in light of Kurt's excitement. Kurt and Blaine had discussed adopting a son or a daughter, and they realized that they might like an older child instead of an infant; that someone out of diapers already and with a bit of a head start might fit better into their lives. Besides, many of the agencies they interviewed with stressed a need for finding homes for their older children. Kurt and Blaine really couldn't see a better solution. But Blaine had never been a parent, and for all of his nurturing traits, Kurt hadn't either. Neither of them even had younger siblings. So, Blaine thought that volunteering for an organization that catered to school age children might be beneficial.

Kurt wasn't exactly thrilled at the time, but unenthusiastically agreed.

“Yup,” Blaine says, “I do.”

“Well, as of today, you and I are affiliated with one such organization” – Kurt claps his fingers beneath his chin – “and we start our practicing on Monday night.”

“Ooo.” Blaine starts feeling Kurt's excitement, not because he was able to sway his husband to his way of thinking, but because this is a step – the first of many – to becoming parents. It's a milestone, a turning point. “Which one?”

Kurt becomes giddy again. “This is the part where you have to guess.”

“Okay” – Blaine narrows his eyes and thinks – “Boys and Girls Club?” Seemed reasonable. There was one a few blocks from where they lived.

“No,” Kurt says, making a mental strike in his head at his husband's wrong answer.

“Uh…the YMCA?”

“Nope.”

“Big Brothers?”

“Nu-uh,” Kurt says. “I'll give you a hint – we're going to be fabulously outfitted.”

“The Boy Scouts?” Blaine asks, making an unintended face. He wouldn't want to discourage his husband if that's the route he took, but the BSA hasn't looked too kindly on homosexual leaders until late.

“God, no,” Kurt says, making a similar face. “They're not ready for us yet.”

“Don't keep me in suspense, Kurt,” Blaine says, scooting to the edge of his seat in anticipation. “Tell me.”

Kurt pulls himself straighter, beaming brightly because his husband couldn't guess.

“As of today,” he announces with gravitas, “you and I, Blaine Anderson-Hummel, are proud members of WAGGGS.”

“I'm going to need a little clarification,” Blaine says, brow drawn. “What's a wag?”

“World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts.”

“What the…” Blaine's jaw drops when Kurt unzips the garment bags and takes out two identical uniforms – white polos, blue slacks, a navy blue cardigan with green piping and the signature Girl Scouts of America head symbol over the left breast, and matching green bowties. Kurt bounces on his heels, unable to contain himself.

“We're going to be Brownie Scout Troop Leaders!”