“What!? What did you just say to me!? No, no, no, you do not get to talk like that when … tacky!? Do you want to know what’s tacky? Your last summer line! That’s what’s tacky! Oh yeah, I went there …”

“Where is he? Where is he?” Isabelle asks, pacing outside Kurt’s office, anxiously wringing her hands. She flinches with every screech-punctuated PG-rated curse Kurt flings. “He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!”

“He just texted. He says he missed his connection, but he’s on his way,” Chase reassures her, peeking in at Kurt as he rails on about the one thing in his life that he absolutely cannot stand – holes as a fashion trend. Kurt switches the call to speaker, puts his phone on his desk, and starts gesturing wildly. “Oh no,” Chase mutters. “He’s talking with his hands.”

“This is a disaster,” Isabelle says, obsessively checking her watch, hoping it’ll make time move faster. “That vein in his neck is about to pop! We’ve got to do something …”

“Never fear, never fear,” a harried but upbeat voice calls from the doors of the elevator. “The cavalry has arrived.”

“Thank God you’re here!” Isabelle cheers, greeting the man racing towards them with that sigh of relief that comes with having your ass pulled out of the flames at the very last possible second.

Blaine catches a glimpse of Kurt as he storms into view, grumbling incoherently and tugging at his hair. “Oh, God. How long has he been at it?” Blaine asks, handing off his bag and coat to Chase.

“He’s been on the phone for over an hour,” Isabelle informs him.

“I asked him to wait,” Chase adds, “but that a-hole kept calling and calling and …”

“Yeah. He got my cell, too,” Blaine admits with a scowl. “Alright.” Blaine squares his back. He takes a deep breath. He rolls his shoulders, loosening up, preparing to enter this fight. “I’m going in.”

“Good luck,” Isabelle says, patting Blaine on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Chase says. “God speed, man.”

Isabelle opens the door, and Blaine steps in as a flood of, “If you think that just because you’re married to a woman with a successful fashion line that that makes you qualified to …”

“Kurt?” Blaine approaches his husband cautiously, not wanting to get accidentally smacked by those expressive hands. “Kurt? It’s Blaine. Can I talk to you for a second?”

Kurt huffs. “Wait a minute, Kanye, I …” Kurt spins on Blaine with lightning speed. “What the heck do you--?”

Before Kurt can wail any further, Blaine gently places their six-month-old daughter, Tracy, into Kurt’s arms. Kurt yelps softly, wrapping his arms protectively around her the second she’s within reach.

The change in Kurt’s face, in Kurt’s body language, is instantaneous.

“Hey, little one,” he coos, bouncing her in his arms to maintain her calm. “How have you been today, huh? Did Daddy take you to the park like he said he would?” Kurt kisses her forehead, breathes in the smell of Ivory detergent, Huggies diapers, her father’s cologne, and just baby – sweet, innocent, happy baby. He lets that smell circulate, lets it permeate his every cell, his very soul, soothe the frantic beating of his heart. Another breath in, and Kurt finally relaxes.

“Kurt?” the voice on the phone barks. “Kurt? This isn’t over. What are you …?”

“Look, Kanye,” Kurt says, cradling Tracy’s head to his cheek, “I’m going to have to call you back. My daughter’s here.”

Blaine hears a heavy sigh come over the line.

“That’s cool,” the man says. “I know how that is. I’ll shout at you later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Kurt says. “Bye.” Kurt reaches down and disconnects the call from his end. If there’s one thing Kurt has learned from working with Kanye West it’s never trust the man to hang up his phone. Then Kurt looks at his husband, a satisfied smile that might look a touch smug on his adorable face. “That’s a dirty trick, Blaine Anderson-Hummel.”

“When it comes to your sanity, and your blood pressure, there are no tricks. Only solutions,” Blaine says, daring a kiss on his husband’s cheek. “Besides, Isabelle’s the one who called me. Technically, you have her to blame.”

Kurt turns toward the window, to the two faces watching him from behind blinds he was sure he had drawn, and waves. Chase waves back. Isabelle blows him a kiss.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Chase marvels, shaking his head.

“Like a charm …” Isabelle smiles at her favorite employee hugging her beautiful Goddaughter “… every time.”