“I don’t think I can handle these interns anymore. Today was the third time an order was packaged incorrectly. We almost sent a Dakota Fanning piece to Lady Gaga,” Kurt said as he deposited his keys in the key bowl and his satchel on the coffee table—something he rarely did. “Tell me it’s not that hard”

“It’s not that hard, babe,” Blaine rubbed his husband shoulders as soon as he plopped down the couch with a defeated exhale. Blaine kissed the back of his neck. “They’re young; they’re bound to make some mistakes, right?”

“Yeah, well they should make mistakes when they have their own reputations to uphold,” Blaine chuckled at that before shifting his body to allow Kurt to lean back against him.
The quiet had just settled in when they heard a pair of feet coming down the stairs.

“Bye dads!” They heard, and a slight rustle of keys. A flurry of wavy black hair flew past the couch before Kurt and Blaine could even understand what was happening.

“Woah! Wait a minute,” Kurt said, sitting up. “Where are you going? I thought we were doing dinner tonight?” He peeked over the back of the couch at his daughter who had her back turned to them.

“Just… out. I told you guys last week. It’s like, the last week before school. I just want to go out with my friends as a last hoorah, y’know?”

“Where is ‘out’?” Kurt asked.

“And what are you wearing?” Blaine quickly followed, noticing how truly short his daughter’s shorts were and how cut out her tank top was.

Slowly and regretfully, Elizabeth, their 17 year old daughter, turned to face the couch where her two dads waited. Her face fell and she bit her lip as soon as she saw Blaine’s eyes widen. “Okay, before you say anything, I just want to let you know that I made these shorts myself and Dad,” she pointed to Blaine, “You were there when I bought this top.”

Blaine eyed the tank top, wondering when he had sanctioned such a purchase. He cleared his throat, searching for words and looked to Kurt for help.

“Um… honey, I’m really really glad that you’re getting so into fashion, those shorts look amazing, but don’t you think maybe jeans would be more… appropriate?”

“And a sweater,” Blaine added, still eyeing his daughter. When did his little girl grow up so much? Wasn’t it just last week when she was sleeping on his chest and gurgling when he blew a raspberry on her belly? What happened. When did this long haired, hazel eyed, inappropriately dressing, heartbreaker (because if he had to admit it, she looked good, just not the kind of good he wanted his 17-year-old to look) come from?

Blaine came back from his thoughts just in time to catch the tail end of what Kurt was saying. “…you’re comfortable in it and it’s how you want to express yourself, I guess it’s okay.” Blaine eyed his husband as if he were insane.

“You’re kidding.” He deadpanned.

“I… I don’t know. It’s cute. I work in fashion, Blaine, how am I supposed to refuse hers?”

“It’s revealing. What bra are you even wearing with that?” Blaine pointed accusingly at his daughter’s top, as if it were the offender.

“Dad!”

“Blaine!” Kurt hissed and pinched his arm lightly.

He took a deep breath. “At least put on another top, El, please? I think you’ll understand when you have a daughter.”

“I’m going to be late. This isn’t fair and these are so in style right now I’m wearing a bandeau, Dad.” Elizabeth headed back to the staircase, keys jingling in her hand as she went and annoyance flowing from her pink-lipped mouth.

Blaine fell back against the couch as if the little speed bump had taken all of his energy.

“You’re cute,” Kurt said, watching him from beside.

“Why am I cute?” Blaine pouted.

“Because you’re so worried. You’re such a great dad.” Kurt grabbed his hand lightly and squeezed.

“I miss her,” Blaine looked over at him with huge puppy dog eyes. Kurt giggled quietly and pushed some of his husband’s hair off of his face.

“Mmm, what do you mean? She’s just upstairs.”

“I miss little Lizzie. I miss her tea parties and the Disney Movies, and the swimming adventures and nighttime routines and bubble baths and napping. I miss her jumping on the bed waking us up for Christmas, and baking cookies with her. I miss when I was her biggest hero, not some guy in a random band. I miss being the secret holder. I miss nose kisses and when she would call me daddy. I just miss her. Now we have this teenager, and you’re way better with those.”

“Well, we all have our time, I suppose,” Kurt chuckled again and pressed his hand lightly on Blaine’s cheek and then kissed the other one. “I know how you feel, babe, but we can’t have little Lizzie forever.”

Blaine’s pout only became further pronounced. “Can we have another one?”

Before Kurt could answer, they heard footsteps again.

“Okay, can I go now?” Elizabeth came trailing back down the stairs in an orange top that tied in the front and showed just a sliver of her mid-drift.

“That’s better,” Kurt nodded, taking in the outfit as a whole. “You know, maybe you should come into the studio with me this week. I really do love those shorts.”

Elizabeth’s face lit up at the thought. “Thanks, Dad!” She bounced over to the couch and planted a kiss on Kurt’s cheek. “And I’ll always be little Lizzie, Daddy,” She gave Blaine an identical peck and a hug before fleeing from the couch and headed towards the door. “I’ll be back at curfew!” She called.

“Which is still 12!” Blaine replied, a dopey smile falling over his lips.

An “ugh!” could be heard before the door closed.

The two sat in silence once more before Blaine finally said, “Really, can we have another?”

“I don’t think so…” Kurt said, and Blaine’s face fell.

“But they say trying is half the fun.” A coy smile replaced his cheery one as he leaned in to kiss his husband.

“Mmm, let’s try a lot.”

Kurt got up and led them upstairs, outfits and teenagers long forgotten.