molliehummel

[molliehummel]

Kiss in the Rain

"Daddy and Daddy are fighting," Brittany announced solemnly as she walked into the choir room, hugging her binder to her chest.

"What you mean, Britt Britt?" Artie inquired.

Brittany sat down at the piano bench with a heavy sigh, hip-checking Brad out of the way. "Kurt and Blaine are yelling at each other," she said. "Are they going to get divorced?"

"Aw, everyone fights," Santana said, crossing the room to hug Brittany. "They'll be fine. Tinkerbell and the Little Prince were meant to be together."

Brittany leaned her cheek against Santana's stomach as Santana petted her bright blonde hair. "They were really mad, though," she said. She reached over and plucked three notes on the piano; Brad frowned and swatted her hand away.

"Guys, guys, code red," Puck said, galloping into the choir room. "We're at a Klaine code red!"

"Brittany said they were fighting, but-" Sam began.

"Kurt took off the gum wrapper ring!" Puck shouted. "This is serious, you guys!"

"Oh crap, man, oh crap," Artie said. "Not the gum wrapper ring!"

Quinn followed Puck into the room, cupping the ring in her hand like a baby bird with a broken wing. "Poor little thing," she said mournfully.

"Why are they fighting?" Santana asked.

Quinn sat down, still cradling the ring. "It's so silly," she said. "I heard them talking this morning…I think it just started out as a misunderstanding."

"Well, out with it, woman, what's going on?" Artie said.

"Blaine told Kurt he's going on vacation with his family in April," Quinn said.

"So?" Santana frowned.

"Kurt's birthday is in April," Puck said.

"And apparently Kurt was planning some sort of big event, since he's turning eighteen this year, and Blaine won't be there, so Kurt's upset," Quinn continued. "And then they started arguing about all sorts of things…how Blaine grinds his teeth when he's sleeping, and Kurt always picks what movies they go see, and Blaine never wears pants that cover his ankles, and Kurt is a cat person and Blaine is a dog person…and, well…it's just a mess."

"Are they going to make it?" Mercedes asked tearfully.

"We have to wait and see," Puck said.

Rachel raced into the choir room. "Kurt just ran outside in tears!" she reported loudly. "I think they're breaking up! Oh god, what are we going to do?"

"We have to stop them!" Brittany said, rising to her feet. "My dolphins! If they're separated, they'll die!"

Rachel ran up the choir room risers and jumped onto a chair to look out the window. "There's Kurt!" she said. "He's going to his car. Alone. Oh my god, oh my god���"

The others climbed up to join her; Artie wheeled anxiously back and forth on the floor below. "Tell me what's going on!" he said.

"I don't know, I can't see, it's raining too hard!" Mercedes said, squinting in the rain.

"Wait!" Rachel interrupted, pressing her hands to the glass. "Blaine! There's Blaine!"

The members of New Directions pressed their faces to the windows and watched with bated breath. Kurt was already halfway to his car, shoulders slumped in defeat, his crisp white shirt soaking wet, plastered to his back and nearly transparent.

Blaine ran after him, mud flinging up behind him with every step and splattering his clothes. He skidded behind Kurt, catching him by the arm and whirling him around. Kurt shouted something at him, flinging his arms out, clearly more upset than angry. Blaine shook his head and took Kurt by the shoulders; Kurt pushed him away and stamped his foot.

Suddenly Blaine cupped Kurt's cheeks in his hands, pulled him close, and kissed him hard on the lips.

"Ooh," Brittany breathed.

Kurt pressed his hands against Blaine's shoulders, as if he was still trying to push him away, but slowly he melted into the kiss. Blaine pulled back, still cupping Kurt's face in his hands, and said something him earnestly. Kurt leaned into the touch and Blaine smoothed a lock of wet hair out of his eyes.

Suddenly Kurt flung his arms around Blaine's neck and leaped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist. Blaine held him tight and Kurt leaned in to kiss him, his hands pressed to the sides of his face.

"Okay, that's a good sign," Rachel said.

"What are they doing?" Artie called.

"They're sucking face!" Puck called back. "Like, major sucking face!"

Brittany clasped her hands together. "Maybe they'll make a baby dolphin!" she cooed. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Wow, they're just…just going at it," Quinn said, blinking. "Is that…wow, that was definitely tongue."

"What are you guys watching?" Finn asked, staring at them from the choir room doorway. They whirled around guiltily. "Spying on Kurt and Blaine?"

They nodded.

"Oh, good," he said, leaping up the risers to join them. "I was following Kurt, but I figured I should probably give them some space, so…oh, wow, I didn't know Blaine could even do that."

"Are they just going to do it?" Santana asked. "Mm, never knew they were exhibitionists…"

"Oh, crap, they're coming back in!" Puck said, scrambling down the risers. "Quick, act like we don't know anything!"

They all hastily settled into their seats and tried to act nonchalant. Kurt and Blaine walked in a minute later, both of them soaking wet, their clothes drenched and their hair dripping, but their hands were clasped tightly together. Blaine's shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and Kurt's cheeks were bright pink, his lips rosy and his pale neck dotted with little red love bites.

"Oh, stop smirking at us," Kurt sighed.

"We could totally see you spying on us from the window," Blaine said.

"Voyeurs much?"

"Hey, it was hot," Santana shrugged. "You two should fight more often if it means we get a show like that."

[molliehummel]

Blaine Fears the Childcatcher

"But Mama," Blaine begged, tugging on his mother's arm.

"No buts, Blaine. We have to go."

Blaine pouted, crossing his arms and sticking out his lower lip as far as it could go. "But I want it now!" he whined. He rose up on his toes and tried to pull the toy down from the shelf. "I want it, Mama!"

"No toys today, Blaine. Come on, we have to go."

"But-" Blaine started to complain.

Francey leaned over and cupped her hands around his ears. "If you don't stop being a brat, the child-catcher's gonna come get you," she whispered loudly, and then she skipped away to follow their mother.

Blaine froze. He'd had nightmares about the child-catcher ever since their stupid babysitter Rosalyn had made them watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, but it had never dawned on him that the child-catcher might actually come and take him away.

He skirted closer to the shelf, glancing around the corner. There was no sign of the creepy man or his equally creepy cart-cage, but he had to be sure.

He glanced back up the aisle, preparing to make a mad dash back to the safety of his mother, but she was gone.

"Mama?" he called. He took a tentative step forward, clinging to the edge of the shelf. "Mama! I'm over here! Come get me!"

A red shopping cart rolled by and he perked up, but someone else's mother was pushing it. He gulped. "Mama!" he called. "Francey! Mama! Francey!"

A bell jangled, charming and noisy, and Blaine let out a terrified shriek and ran in the opposite direction. He rounded a corner from the toy section into electronics and rammed straight into someone's legs.

"Oh, there you are, Blaine," his sixteen-year-old half-brother said. "Your mom sent me to go find you."

"Cooper!" Blaine shrieked, and he leaped up, grabbing onto Cooper and clambering up his legs like a monkey in a tree.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, squirt, why're you freaking out?" Cooper asked. "Okay, stop squirming. I got you."

Blaine latched onto Cooper's neck. "The child-catcher's coming for me!" he shouted. "Don't let him get me, Coop! Don't let him get me! Tell Mama I'll be good and I'll stop asking for toys and stuff!"

Cooper frowned. "Has Francey been giving you Red Bull again?" he asked.

"No! Francey said the child-catcher's gonna get me!" Blaine said. He burst into tears. "I'll be good, Coop! I'll be good!'

Cooper frowned. "What are you talking about, Blainey?" he asked.

Blaine blubbered into his big brother's shoulder. Cooper listened, frowning as he tried to make sense of his hysterical babble. "So the scary guy from the movie is going to come get you?" he said at last. "Francey told you that?"

"He's gonna take me away and I just wanna go home!" Blaine sobbed, curling up into a tighter ball against Cooper's chest and wrapping his short legs around his waist.

Cooper exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "Come on," he said. "I'll take you back to your mom."

Blaine peeked out over Cooper's shoulder as his big brother carried him. He didn't see the child catcher anywhere, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Hey, Hannah, I found Blaine," Cooper said, handing Blaine off to her. Blaine let out a happy squeal and latched onto his mother's neck.

"Why, honey lamb!" Hannah exclaimed, hugging him close. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" She kissed his round cheeks repeatedly. "Were you scared to be lost?"

Francey started to edge away, but Cooper wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up. "It's Francey's fault," he announced. "She told him the child-catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was going to get him and it freaked him out."

Francey scowled and kicked him. "Dammit, Coop!" she said. "Why'd you tattle?"

Hannah covered Blaine's ears. "Frances Meghan Anderson!" she scolded. "You are in deep trouble, young lady. Number one, for scaring your baby brother, and number two, for saying a naughty word. We're going to have a talk with your daddy when we get home."

Francey stuck her tongue out at Cooper. He rolled his eyes and tugged on her curly ponytail.

Hannah cuddled Blaine close. "Nobody's going to take you away from me, sweetie doll," she said. "You're okay. The bad man is only in the movie; he's not going to take you."

Blaine leaned into his mother's shoulder. "I love you, Mama," he said sweetly, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek.

"My poor sweet Babbie," Hannah cooed, petting his curls. "I'm so sorry you were scared." She kissed the top of his head. "Do you want a toy? Will a toy make you feel better?"

"I think so," he said hopefully, nuzzling into her shoulder.

Francey mumbled something under her breath that did not sound pleasant or ladylike in the slightest.

(For those of y'all who haven't seen Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, this is who Blaine was afraid of:)

[molliehummel]

Sleepwalking is Dangerous

Burt flinched as something echoed on the stairs. "Kurt," he called wearily. "I thought I told you to go to bed two hours ago." He rubbed his forehead and took another sip of his soda, the television blurring in front of him. "Stop playing and go to bed."

Suddenly a high-pitched scream brought him to his feet. He ran down the hall and stopped dead in his tracks at the foot of the stairs. His small son, barely eight years old, was crumpled on the floor like a little broken doll.

"Kurt!" he shouted, falling on his knees beside him. His hands shook as he reached out to touch the sides of his little boy's neck. He'd only buried his wife a week ago- he couldn't bury his baby too.

Kurt's pulse under his fingertips was rabbit-fast and he blew out a sigh of relief. Gently he turned him over onto his back, supporting his neck. Kurt flinched, flinging one arm over his face and letting out another strangled cry. There was a huge knot on his forehead, brilliant red and already swelling.

Kurt tried to roll away from Burt's grip. "Mm…gah…" he said, thumping weakly at his father's hands. "Le'…go…"

His blue eyes were open but hazy, and for a terrifying second Burt thought that Kurt had lost his mind. But Kurt stuck his thumb in his mouth, still mumbling nonsense, and with a start he realized that Kurt was sleepwalking.

"Oh my god," he said. "Oh god. Okay. Okay, bud. Daddy's got you."

He scooped Kurt up carefully and carried him into the kitchen, his tiny birdlike legs dangling over his arm. Kurt wailed again, a mournful keening sound. Burt adjusted him against his chest and rummaged one-handed through the nearly empty freezer until he pulled out the little icepack that Mollie had kept for Kurt since he took his first steps and immediately fell over. The rabbit-shaped pack had comforted Kurt through dozens of babyhood injuries, real or imagined. Burt pressed it against the rising lump on the little boy's forehead.

"Here, kiddo, now you've got boo-boo bunny," he said, kissing the top of his head. "That better?"

"Mm," Kurt murmured. "Mm…ee."

He wriggled in Burt's grip, as if he was still trying to escape and wander around the house. Burt pulled him tight against his chest, holding the icepack to his forehead, and carried him up the stairs to his bedroom. His bed was unmade, his clothes and toys scattered everywhere, as if he had ransacked his closet and dresser in search of something he couldn't find.

Burt sat down on the edge of Kurt's bed and turned on the bedside lamp. His heart sank. The past week and a half since his mother's death had taken a definite toll on the child. His eyes were sunken and ringed with shadows; his soft skin- pale and rosy-cheeked like his mother's- was sallow and waxy. With a sudden pang of guilt, Burt tried to remember the last time he'd seen the little boy eat more than a few bites in a single meal.

He picked up Kurt's soft blue blanket and wrapped it around him, swaddling him like Mollie used to when he was just their fussy little preemie. Kurt seemed so small and skeletal, his rocket-print pajama tee and shorts hanging on his slim frame. Burt swaddled the blankets tighter and cradled Kurt into his chest.

"What were you looking for, scooter?" he murmured, rocking him gently back and forth. "Tell Daddy what's wrong."

Kurt screwed up his face. "Mommy," he said clear and plaintive. "Want…Mommy. Where's Mommy?"

Burt's eyes burned. "Mommy's not here," he choked. "Just me."

Kurt began to cry, thin and weak and heartbreaking. Burt leaned back on the bed, pulling Kurt down to rest against him in his little blanket-wrapped bundle. Kurt still cried, but he reached up and took hold of Burt's collar, pressing his hand as close as he could to the warm comfort of his father's solidity.

Burt held him tight, stroking his back up and down and shushing him rhythmically. Slowly Kurt's sobs died away and Burt realized he was asleep, really asleep.

But he couldn't bear to separate himself from his child, and so he spent the night in Kurt's narrow bed, unable to sleep, cradling Kurt close and watching his baby's chest rise and fall as he slept.

[molliehummel]

Kurt Still Hates Needles

Kurt closed his eyes. "I can't do this," he mumbled as the state-sent nurse ushered another student into the back room. "I can't do this. I can't."

He leaned over, resting his forehead on his knees. Finn rubbed his back. "Sure you can," he encouraged. "You'll be fine."

"Needles make me throw up, Finn. Throw up or faint. When I was nine…both."

Finn massaged the knots in Kurt's spine. "Geez, you're tense," he said.

"I didn't get any sleep last night," he said into his knees. "Finn, I'm going to throw up."

"No, you're not," Finn said. "You'll be fine." He kept rubbing his hand up and down Kurt's narrow back. "We'll get this over with, and we'll go to glee, and then we'll go out to dinner and the mall like Dad promised you."

"Not promised," Kurt corrected. "It's a bribe. I am seventeen years old, and my father had to bribe me to get shots."

"Why do you hate them so much, anyway?" Finn asked.

Kurt was silent for a moment.

"The first time I went to the doctor after my mom died…I went by myself," Kurt said. "I was eight. I had to get a physical before third grade started." He took a deep shuddering breath. "Dad sent me off to the back and sat in the waiting room reading a magazine. He'd…he'd never had to the doctor's appointments before. My mom almost took me."

He fell silent again. Finn patted his back, waiting patiently. "They were going to take blood," Kurt said. "The nurse stuck it in and then was like 'whoops, missed.' So she didn't even wait, she just yanked it out and jabbed it in my elbow again."

Finn winced. "Ugh, that's gross," he said.

"Tell me about it," Kurt said grimly. "And it hurt, too."

"And then…" Finn prompted.

"So I'm already freaking out," Kurt continued. "And then…this stupid nurse goes 'all right, Kurt, watch the blood going up the tube'." He looked up. "Don't make me say what happened."

Finn grinned. "What happened?" he asked.

"Everything," Kurt said grimly. "Started crying, threw up, passed out…might've wet my pants, I don't know, it's all kind of a blur. My elbow was black and blue for two weeks, and I've never been able to deal with needles since. My dad has to go to the doctor with me and tell them I have to lie down, and then he has to hold my hand. It's embarrassing."

"It's not that bad," Finn said. "Unless, you know…you wet your pants again." Kurt snorted. "You want me to go back there with you?"

Kurt glanced up at him. "No offense, but you're not exactly the most…comforting presence," he said. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, mumbling something into his hands.

Finn leaned closer. "What was that?" he said.

"I want Blaine," Kurt said through his hands, his voice muffled.

The nurse walked back out, clipboard in hand. "Kurt Hummel?" she said brusquely.

Kurt started visibly. "Oh god," he said. He grabbed onto Finn's arm. "I'm going to throw up."

"You'll be fine," Finn said.

"No, no, I'm not," Kurt whimpered. He dug his fingers into Finn's bicep, making him wince. "Don't make me do it. Please. I'm not afraid to beg."

Finn prodded him gently towards the nurse. "You'll be fine," he said. He leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "I'll see you in a few minutes, okay? You'll be fine."

"No, I won't," Kurt said. The nurse took him firmly by the shoulder; he glanced back and looked pleadingly at Finn. "Finn?"

Finn just smiled apologetically and flashed a supportive thumbs-up before the door closed behind him. "Sit there," the nurse said, pointing to an empty chair and sitting down to prepare the shots.

Kurt hesitated. "Um," he said, twisting his fingers together. "Um, I have a tendency to faint during these kinds of procedures, so I was wondering if I could maybe lie down?"

"Sit," she said without looking up.

"But I-"

"We don't have a space for you to lie down. Sit."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I have a phobia of needles-" he began, his voice small and pathetic in his own ears.

"Honey, I have forty more kids to go through today," she said. "Just sit down and get it over with. It's just three little shots."

Kurt sat down before his shaking legs could fold underneath him. Three little shots might as well have been an hour in a torture chamber. He watched, horrified, as the nurse prepared the syringes. "Please, I could just lie down…"

She didn't answer, swiftly setting out the three shots. Kurt closed his eyes and held on tight to the arms of the chair. He could still clearly see the long sharp needles in his mind's eyes.

The nurse took him by the wrist, rolled up his sleeve, and swabbed his upper arm with an alcohol patch. "This'll be a little cold," she said automatically.

He winced. It felt like someone had shoved his arm in a freezer. Goosebumps erupted over his skin. "I'm going to throw up," he said faintly.

"It happens," she said. "There's a trashcan right next to your chair if you need it."

Kurt pressed his lips together. You are seventeen, he told himself. You are a senior in high school. You can do this. You can. Just suck it up, Hummel.

The door tapped open. "Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt," Blaine said, offering the nurse his most charming, winning, Dalton-approved smile. "I was wondering if I could stay with Kurt while he got his shots? He gets a little nervous and we're…um, best friends."

The nurse sized him up and softened a little at Blaine's sweet smile. "As long as you don't get in my way," she warned.

"I won't," Blaine promised.

The nurse turned around to get the injections together. Blaine leaned over to hug Kurt and Kurt clung to him desperately. "Oh my god, Blaine," he whimpered into his shoulder. Blaine cupped a hand around his neck and kissed him right behind his ear. "Oh my god, I feel like an idiot, but I really hate this."

"It's okay," Blaine whispered back, kneeling beside him and placing his hand on his knee. "It'll just take a second. And I'm right here." He leaned up and kissed his cheek swiftly. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, okay?"

Kurt nodded helplessly, squeezing his hand as tight as he could. The nurse walked over with the small tray. "You're going to feel a little stick," she warned, picking up the first syringe.

Kurt whipped around to look at Blaine. I'm going to die, he mouthed.

Blaine smiled at him and took his hand, linking their fingers together. "Just look at me," he whispered. "It's okay. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

The first needle pieced his skin. Kurt flinched and dug his fingernails desperately into Blaine's hand. "It's okay, it's okay," Blaine soothed. Kurt leaned in till their foreheads touched; Blaine reached up and tangled his fingers in his thick silky hair. "It's okay, baby."

"All right, that's the first one," the nurse said, brushing at his arm with a cotton ball.

"I'm going to throw up," Kurt whispered. "Oh my god. I'm so dizzy. I'm gonna throw up."

"Just close your eyes and hold my hand," Blaine coaxed. "It's okay."

"Another little stick," the nurse said as she jabbed the second shot into his arm. Kurt cried out and immediately bit down hard on his lip to stop the sound.

"Stop, please," he begged. His vision swam in dizzy circles. "Make it stop."

"We're almost done," Blaine crooned, stroking his hair. "Hold on just a little longer. Hold onto me."

"Last one," the nurse said, and everything went black.

He opened his eyes what felt like a second later to see his brother kneeling over him. Someone was still stroking his hair, and a cool wet cloth was draped over his forehead. Kurt frowned. "Finn?" he mumbled, his tongue thick and clumsy.

"Are you back with us?" Finn asked anxiously. "Quick, what's your middle name?"

Kurt's frown deepened. "Elijah?" he said hoarsely.

"Hey, there you are," Finn said, relieved. He squeezed Kurt's side. "It's okay. Don't freak out."

"Wha' happened?" he asked, squinting.

"You passed out," Blaine said. Kurt blinked, realizing that it was Blaine's gentle hand stroking his hair, and that his head was resting on his boyfriend's knees. "You've been fading in and out for a few minutes. Do you remember?"

Kurt shook his head and instantly regretted it. "I don't feel good," he moaned, the corners of his eyes prickling with hot shameful tears.

"Dad's coming to get you," Finn reassured him. "You're going home for the rest of the day. And your shots are all done, so you don't have to worry about them anymore."

Kurt squirmed a little, realizing suddenly that his chest was bare and his lower back was resting against the cold tile floor. "Where's my shirt?" he asked. He paled. "Did I-"

"Just a little bit," Blaine said. "You didn't eat too much today, did you?"

"No," Kurt said, covering his eyes with his hands. "Oh my god, this is so embarrassing…"

"Aw, everybody pukes at school at some point," Finn shrugged.

"Finn. This is like…my tenth time. Isn't my quota full by now?"

"Well, it's the first time you've puked during senior year," Finn offered helpfully. "And at least you didn't wet your pants."

"That's not very helpful," Kurt grumbled.

"Stop fussing," Blaine chided gently. He leaned over and kissed Kurt's clammy forehead. "Just lie still. Your dad will be here soon, okay?"

Kurt closed his eyes. Blaine kept stroking his hair in a soothing rhythm, and gradually the tension in his chest began to subside.

[molliehummel]

Wet 'n' Wild

"Honey, you missed a spot!" Kurt called.

"Come get it yourself," Blaine grunted as he hefted a rock out of the way.

"Blaine, my love, if you haven't figured it out by now, I was not designed for yard work," Kurt said, rocking lazily back and forth on the porch hammock. "Wrangling pleather on a standard issue sewing machine, yes. Replacing an engine block, yes. Doing manual labor in the burning sun…not on your life."

Blaine stood up and sighed, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. "So why did you invite yourself over?" he asked

"Because," Kurt said, sliding his Ray-Bans down his nose. "I am enjoying the view, if you catch my drift."

Blaine shifted his weight as his boyfriend eyed him up and down. "You mean…you just came over to see me shirtless?" he said.

"You look good in nothing but a pair of shorts," Kurt admitted. "And besides, the whole…abs glistening with sweat thing. I like it." He scooted back in the hammock. "As long as you don't come too close. I love you, honey, but you're sweaty and you smell."

"Gee, thanks," Blaine snorted.

Kurt slid his sunglasses back up and flipped a page in his magazine. "I'll sit here and admire, and when you're done, you can take a shower, we'll go out to dinner, and then we can have some of the fun I've been imagining all afternoon," he said, smirking wickedly

"You are…the most frustrating human being ever," Blaine sputtered. "That's not fair."

"Go on," Kurt said, unruffled. "I understand you have a garden to water."

Blaine stomped towards the spigot, muttering under his breath. "Silly boyfriend, getting me all worked up like that," he mumbled. He hooked up the hose and switched on the water. "Promising me sex, and making me wait. Not fair. He won't even help me with this. Not fair at all."

He stormed over to the flowerbeds, turning on the hose. Kurt was still lounging in the hammock, his long bare legs stretched out. Today he was wearing seersucker striped shorts and a slim-fitting collared shirt, the crisp white linen smooth over his chest. Blaine paused, a wicked grin spreading across his face, and inched a little closer.

Kurt was so caught up in his magazine that he didn't notice Blaine's approach until he was right in front of him. "Aha!" Blaine cheered, and he turned the hose on full-force.

Kurt shrieked, tumbling out of the hammock. His magazine fluttered down beside him, the glossy pages quickly soaking up water. "Blaine Anderson!" he shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Revenge!" Blaine laughed, spraying Kurt generously with water.

"Stop it, I'm wet!" Kurt howled, waving his arms blindly in front of him. "Turn the water off!"

Blaine obeyed and Kurt spluttered helplessly. "What on earth was that for?" he gasped, rubbing his eyes.

Blaine looked Kurt up and down, admiring the way the soaked shirt clung to the outlines of his chest and stomach and the transparency of his shorts. "Now we're even," he said. "You get to watch me do yard work with my shirt off…and I get to see you when you're soaking wet."

Kurt stared at him, mouth agape, and then flung himself at him, kissing Blaine hungrily and forcing him down on the ground till he was straddling his hips. "I really ought to be mad at you," he gasped.

"Shut up and kiss me," Blaine said, digging his hands into the wet waistband of Kurt's shorts.

[molliehummel]

Terrible Things

"What are you writing?"

Mollie slammed the lid of the box shut. "Burt!" she gasped. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he said, bending to kiss the top of her bright head. "How're you feeling?"

"All right, I suppose," she lied. She twisted around in her chair to face him. "How was work?"

He launched into a story about an air conditioner repair gone wrong, and she quickly picked up the box, twisted the key in the lock, and stowed it in the kitchen cabinet next to the Pyrex bowls. The key on its little pink ribbon went back around her neck and she tucked under the neckline of her dress.

Burt sank down at the kitchen table. "I'm beat," he said. "What do you want to do for dinner tonight? Are you up to making it, or should I do it, or-"

"I'm not going to let you make dinner tonight," she said, grinning. "I don't think Kurt will be able to stomach yet another night of pancakes."

"It's the only thing I know how to make," he protested. "You're the chef in this family."

Her throat tightened. "Well, maybe I'd better teach you a few things," she said lightly, leaning back against the sink.

Burt just looked at her then, that level-headed "don't pull this crap with me" gaze. "We're not going to lose you, Mollie," he said quietly.

She tried to smile. He reached out and took her slim hands- bony now from how much weight she'd lost- and squeezed them in his big callused fingers. "I love you," she said.

He stood up and kissed her on the forehead. "Love you too," he said. He took a step back and squeezed her hands. "So what're we going to do for dinner, huh? Maybe I should go out and grab something."

Suddenly little footsteps echoed on the stairs. "Daddy!" Kurt shrieked, running into the kitchen and flinging himself into his father's arms. "Daddy's home!"

Burt caught him easily, swooping him up into the air. "Hey, scooter," he said. He settled Kurt on his hip and kissed him on the cheek. "How was school today?"

"Boring," Kurt huffed, draping himself over Burt's broad shoulder. "So boring. We learned about the Specific Ocean."

"The Pacific Ocean, baby," Mollie corrected, smoothing his flyaway hair.

Kurt tugged on the collar of Burt's shirt. "Did you say we're gonna go out to dinner?" he said. "Can we get pizza? Can we, can we, can we?"

Burt looked over Kurt's head at his wife. "Why not?" she said. Kurt cheered happily and shimmied down Burt's legs. "Kurt, you stay with me and help me set the table, okay?"

"Okay," he said, already pulling out the drawer with the silverware.

Burt kissed Mollie on the cheek. "I'll be back in a little bit, then," he said. "Anything in particular you want?"

"No, not really," she said. "Come home safe."

"I will," he called on his way out the door.

Mollie watched Kurt busily set the table, frowning in concentration as he folded the napkins in perfect triangles. She paused to hug him, wrapping her arms around his little shoulder and kissing his soft round cheek.

"Mommy, I'm working," Kurt complained.

"Oh, so sorry," she grinned, kissing the top of his head. She crossed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of lettuce. "Baby, can you do me a favor? Can you get the big glass salad bowl out of the cabinet for me, please?"

"Sure, Mommy," he said, pausing in his work to obey. Mollie rummaged around in the fridge for a bag of carrots. "Ooh, Mommy, what's this? It's pretty!"

She froze. "Honey, put that back," she said.

"But it has my name on it," he said, sounding pleased. She turned around to see him holding the box in his hands, tugging on the lid. "It won't open, Mommy."

She sank down in the kitchen chair. "KK, come here," she said softly. He obeyed slowly, still focused on prying the lid open. She lifted him on her lap- he was still small for his age, and still liked to be cuddled. "Honey, that's for….for later."

"Like my birthday?" Kurt brightened.

"No, not for your birthday," Mollie said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. She had a whole stockpile of presents for his eighth birthday, coming up in two months…and several presents saved up for Burt to give him for the next dozen or so birthdays. "Honey, those are…those are letters."

Kurt frowned. "For me?" he said. He shook the box. "I want them now, Mommy."

She adjusted him on her lap, pulling him a little closer, a little tighter. "They're not for right now," she said softly. "They're for later. For when you turn nine, and ten, and…all those birthdays." She cradled him close like he was still her little baby; he squirmed a little in her too-tight grip. "And for when you start high school, and when you get your first kiss. Your first job. When you go to college. All the big things."

Kurt frowned. "But Mommy, that's really far away," he said. "I want them now." He plucked at the lid. "Who wrote the letters to me?"

"I did," she said. "Just in case…I'm not here for all those special days."

Kurt dropped the box, letting it clatter to the floor, and wriggled around in her embrace until he was facing her, his arms tight around her neck. "Where are you going?" he demanded, equal parts angry and alarmed. "Are you going away?"

"I don't…I don't know," she said. She cupped his chin in her hand and pressed a kiss to the corner of his pouting little mouth. "I don't know, precious, but that's why I'm writing the letters. It's just in case."

Kurt hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. "I don't want you to go," he said. "Please don't go, Mommy. Don't go."

She hugged him back, her throat painfully tight, and rocked him gently. He hid his face from her, and she was glad. She didn't want him to see her cry.

[molliehummel]

Wedding Day

"I don't know why I agreed to do a first look," Blaine worried. "It's not tradition."

"Yes, but Kurt wanted it," Cooper said. "Stop it. Stop it! I'm just trying to fix your tie."

Blaine bounced up on his toes. "My tie is fine," he said, batting his older brother's hands away. "Where's Francey?"

"Trying to get Zach in his suit," Cooper said. "You know how that kid squirms. He gets it from his Uncle Blaine. Hold still!"

"I can't hold still," Blaine said, turning away and pacing up and down the room. "I'm getting married, Cooper. I'm getting married in an hour and I don't know what to do with myself."

"You'll be fine, squirt," Cooper said. He sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. "You and Kurt have basically been married since you started dating. This is just a formality."

"Yes, but a huge formality," Blaine argued. "We'll be married. He'll be my husband. This is…this is serious. I don't know…I don't know if…"

"If what?" Francey asked, shoving the door open with her elbow as she hauled her squirming toddler into the room. "Blaine, if you weren't my favorite brother, there is no way I would have gone through with stuffing Zachary into a tux." She set the little boy on the floor and gave him an affectionate pat on the bottom. "Go, my little devil spawn. Go play." She straightened and frowned. "Why are you panicking?"

"I'm not panicking!" Blaine protested.

"Oh, he's panicking," Cooper said, scooping his young nephew up as Zach crawled onto his knees. "He said something about 'I don't know' and then you interrupted."

Francey sat down on the edge of the bed. "What don't you know?" she asked.

Blaine sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if I'm good enough," he said quietly. "I don't know why he picked me."

Francey smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in the peacock-blue sash of her floor-length white dress. "Tell me this," she said. "Who danced with Kurt at junior prom when his school tried to humiliate him?"

Blaine blinked. "Me," he said.

"Who took a rock salt slushie in the face for him?" Francey continued.

"I did."

"When Kurt didn't get into NYADA, who encouraged him to apply for the Vogue internship?" Cooper cut in.

"Me, but I-"

Francey reached over and took Blaine's hands. "You've always been there for him," she said, squeezing his hands. "And he's always been there for you. Kurt loves you, Blaine. And he knows you love him."

"Today is you telling the whole world that you love each other," Cooper said quietly. "Putting that ring on his finger is like telling everyone that you're completely committed to him, and no one else."

"And, also…that you liked it, so you put a ring on it," Francey said solemnly. Blaine snorted and Cooper elbowed her in the side.

"You just ruined the moment!" Cooper scolded.

"Oh, come on, I'm hilarious," Francey snickered. She tugged Blaine to sit on her lap and blew a raspberry on his cheek. "I can't believe my little Babbie is getting married. Holy shit. You make me feel old."

"Ho' shit!" Zachary echoed cheerfully, leaning over to pat his uncle on the cheek. Blaine grinned and gave his little nephew an Eskimo kiss.

Someone knocked lightly on the door. "Hey, Blaine," Finn said, grinning from ear to ear. "According to Kurt's itinerary, you're supposed to meet him in the courtyard for the first look pictures."

Francey stood up and tugged Blaine to his feet. "Come on, kid," she said. "Go see your almost-husband."

"I'm going to pass out," Kurt said faintly.

"That's because your tie is too tight," Lucy said. She made him sit down and plucked lightly at the knot, then patted his cheek. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Maybe twenty minutes?" Kurt offered.

Rachel looked pained. "No wonder you're so highstrung," she said. "I slept a full nine hours before my wedding."

"And you were as mellow and laidback as an electrocuted chicken," Kurt snorted. Rachel smacked his arm. "Ow! You can't hit me, I'm the groom." He sighed. "Oh, god, seriously, I'm going to pass out."

"When's the last time you had something to eat?" Lucy asked.

"Um…I had some pineapple for breakfast, I think…"

Lucy scowled. "What would you do without me?" she said, crossing to the dresser and rummaging in her purse. She pulled out a bag of mini rice cakes and waved it victoriously. "I'm the greatest best man ever. Open your mouth."

"What-" Kurt started to ask, but Lucy popped a rice cake in his mouth and held his lips shut.

"Chew," she said sternly. He obeyed.

"So are you excited?" Rachel asked eagerly. She rested her chin on the back of her chair. "You look excited."

"I think I'm excited," Kurt said. "I don't know. I'm too stressed to be excited."

"Don't be stressed," Lucy said, feeding him another rice cake. "This is going to be an absolutely beautiful wedding."

"I think I made it too much my wedding and not enough Blaine's," Kurt said. "I just got so excited over planning everything…I don't think I included him enough. I don't want him to look back and feel like he didn't have any say over the biggest day of our lives."

"Oh, honey," Lucy sighed. She sat down next to Kurt and clasped his hand. "Remember two months ago, when the florist said they thought you wanted chrysanthemums instead of baby's breath and you locked yourself in your room and cried?"

Kurt flushed red. "I try not to think about that," he said.

"Everyone does that when they're planning a wedding," Rachel said, flapping their hands dismissively. "They sent me baby pink tablecloths instead of blush pink and I had a full out temper tantrum."

"Well, Blaine called me in a panic because you were so upset and he didn't know how to help you," Lucy said.

"But he did help," Kurt said, perplexed. "He found another florist for a better price, and the flowers are perfect."

"Yes, well, before that," Lucy said. "We were talking about how stressed you were over this wedding. And do you know what he said to me?" Kurt shook his head. Lucy smiled and stroked a lock of hair away from his forehead. "He said he didn't care if you got married in a Walmart parking lot with nothing but a boom box and plastic ring. He just wanted to be married to you."

Kurt smiled a little. Lucy leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You two are going to be so happy," she promised.

Finn stuck his head in the room. "Hey, everybody," he said. "I just sent Blaine down to the courtyard to wait for you. It's time for the first look picture thing."

"Oh my god," Kurt said, biting on his knuckle. Lucy tugged his hand away from his mouth and linked her fingers through his.

"Come on," she said. "Before you give yourself a stress-induced heart attack."

Kurt held her hand tightly as they walked down the hall, Finn flanking him on the other side. They'd picked the perfect venue for their December wedding, a beautiful historical mansion in the heart of the city, and he'd known from their first tour of the place that he wanted to do their first look pictures in the courtyard.

The glass-walled courtyard was tucked away in the back of the mansion, warmly lit with soft antique brass fixtures that spread a gentle glow over the marble floor. Beautiful flowers lined the walls, filling the room with a soft pretty scent. And in the middle of the room, with his back to them, was Blaine.

Kurt halted. Finn gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Go get 'im, tiger," he said.

Kurt dropped Lucy's hand and took a slight step forward. He was painfully aware of everything around him- the tap of his shoes on the floor in the silence, his brother and Lucy watching him closely, the tug of his tie around his suddenly-hot neck.

He touched Blaine's hand tentatively, his fingers curling around his, and Blaine turned around.

"Hi," Kurt whispered.

"Hi," Blaine whispered back.

They got their wedding photos a month later, and made a big deal out of looking through the black-bound album for the first time, cuddled up together on their couch with a bottle of wine. The pictures were all beautiful, but they agreed that the first look ones were the best. They were the most honest- their eyes locked only on each other, their wide smiles, the hint of happy tears. The way Blaine's hand cupped Kurt's cheek, the way Kurt's hands pressed against Blaine's back. The photographer had even snapped a few pictures of their small audience- Lucy clinging to Finn's arm as he grinned broadly at them, Cooper and Francey flashing their wide smiles and thumbs-up at the camera.

Their favorite picture they had enlarged and framed. It was a simple picture- the two of them embracing, Kurt's arms around Blaine's neck and Blaine's hands on Kurt's waist, their foreheads touching, their smiles so wide it was nearly painful. The photo hung in the living room of their cozy first apartment, then their penthouse downtown, then over the mantel in the brownstone they bought on the outskirts of the city when they decided the kids needed a yard to play in. When their oldest child went off to college, she took a smaller copy of the photo with her to hang in her dorm room. And no matter where they went or what they did or how old they got, they kept that picture, just as a reminder of how some things could never change.

[molliehummel]

Migraine

"Sorry, sorry, I'm late," Blaine said, adjusting his tie as he darted backstage. "Sorry, my dentist appointment took longer than I thought."

"Did you bite the hygienist again?" Jeff snickered, and Nick elbowed him the ribs.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Dentists just make me nervous, okay?" he said, tugging on the hem of his blazer. "Where's Kurt?"

"Your loverboy is doing exactly what you should be doing, which is getting ready for our performance," Nick said as he steered Blaine towards the stage. "We have to nail this, Blaine, or the school board won't want to increase our funding."

"And we have to start now, or Wes will explode," Jeff added. "He's already turning that weird angry purple-y color."

"Fine, fine," Blaine said, tripping out to join the others on the risers. Wes shot him a dirty look, but Blaine just flashed his most charming smile and launched into the first number.

It was tradition for the Warblers to perform at some point for the board of trustees at the Westerville country club. Rich Dalton graduates, all of them, and they were the ones responsible for massive donations to the school. The headmaster usually enticed the Warblers to perform with the promise of some of those donations going to them, even though they did just fine thanks to Warbler alumni and the booster club. But they had lost regionals, which meant that donations would probably be smaller than the previous year, so it would probably be good to get a little extra.

They wrapped up the first number to polite applause and Blaine took his spot to start "Candles." He looked over to grin foolishly at Kurt. His brand-new boyfriend smiled back, and Blaine's heart gave a happy little leap. Kurt was so beautiful. He was so lucky.

Kurt's voice sounded marvelous as usual, sweet and clear, and he smiled at him, but there was something…off. He seemed paler than usual, and he kept squinting. Maybe he was just tired.

The song went off without a hitch and, after a nod from Wes, they started into "Raise Your Glass." Singing the solos for that one brought out all of his natural exuberance, and he bounded around the stage, leading the others in the number.

He took a sharp spin and caught a glimpse of Kurt. His boyfriend lagged behind the others, just a little bit. Only someone who knew the choreography would notice- and Blaine not only knew the choreography, he knew Kurt. Something was off.

They finished the final number to a swell of applause; the Warblers bowed politely before heading offstage. Blaine tried to acknowledge his friends' excitement, but he slipped around the others and tugged lightly on Kurt's sleeve.

Kurt jumped. "What…oh, hi," he said.

"Hi," Blaine said, leaning in to press a kiss on his forehead. He frowned. "You feel a little warm."

Kurt smiled, his lips a little clumsy. "I'm fine," he said.

"Are you sure? You seem a little…under the weather," Blaine said.

"Just a headache," Kurt said, rubbing his temples. He hesitated, biting at his lips. "A migraine, actually, but…"

David brushed past them. "Ready to go out for our celebratory dinner?" he said. "The trustees are paying, so-"

"Actually, Kurt and I are heading back to campus," Blaine said, sliding an arm around Kurt's waist. "We'll take a rain check. Get us some cheesecake to go, okay?"

"Sure," David said, giving them a funny look and clapping them both on the shoulders. "See you later, all right?"

Blaine felt Kurt sag a little bit against him. "Thanks," he said.

"Come on, I'll drive you back," Blaine said, ushering him out the back door. The bright late afternoon struck them and Kurt visibly flinched. "Whoa, whoa, are you okay?"

"Just a migraine," Kurt said through his teeth, shielding his eyes. "Light's too bright."

Blaine tucked his arm tighter around Kurt's slim waist. "Just lean on me, all right?" he said. Kurt nodded slightly, still covering his eyes.

Blaine fumbled in his pocket for his keys and unlocked the doors to his jeep. "Here, you can lie down in the back," he offered.

Kurt slid into the backseat without another word and laid down, resting his cheek on his folded hands like a child. Blaine paused, then leaned over and kissed his temple. "You'll feel better once you get back to the dorm," he said. "Try to sleep, okay?"

Kurt shrugged a little. Blaine closed the door and got into the driver's seat. The radio started blaring as soon as the key turned in the ignition and he shut it off quickly, flinching. "Sorry, I forgot about that," he said.

"It's okay," Kurt said in a small voice. "Can we just…go home?"

"Yeah, of course," he said, reaching back to squeeze his shoulder.

Blaine tried to drive as smoothly as possible, wincing every time he had to stop too soon or bounce over a pothole. He'd never had a migraine before, and but he'd had plenty of headaches, and Kurt had to be miserable.

He tried to glance in his rearview mirror to see if he was all right, but he wasn't at the right angle and he had to give up. A few times he opened his mouth to ask how he was doing, but every time he bit his tongue. Kurt was probably asleep. He didn't need to wake him up.

He pulled into his usual spot behind the dorm and parked. "Okay, Kurt, we're here," he said, pulling back the emergency brake. "Are you-"

"Blaine, I…I threw up."

Blaine twisted around in his seat. "You what?" he stammered.

Kurt hunched in his seat, distinctly green around the mouth. "I threw up," he whispered. "I'm…I'm sorry, I-"

"I didn't even hear you do it," Blaine said stupidly.

"I know, I know…my dad calls me a stealth puker…I'm so sorry, Blaine, I just-"

Blaine slid out of the front seat and crossed around to the back. He yanked the door open to find his boyfriend huddling in the corner, covering his mouth with his hands. "Kurt, it's okay, you're…oh my god, are you crying?'

Kurt swiped at his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just…I don't mean to cry, it's just…do you want to break up with me now or later?" he said, his voice wobbling.

"Never," Blaine said firmly, pulling him to a tight hug. He smoothed Kurt's hair. "You just don't feel good. It happens. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Kurt pressed his cheek to his shoulder. "I'll clean it up," he mumbled.

"No, you're going to go lie down until you feel better," Blaine said, tugging him out of the car. "Do you need me to carry you?"

Kurt wobbled unsteadily on his feet. "'mokay, I can walk," he said.

But Blaine had to support his weight as they crossed the parking lot, and by the time they reached the back stairs, he was half-carrying Kurt, his arm tight around his waist. Kurt was completely unsteady on his feet, clutching at Blaine's sleeves to keep upright.

"There, go lie down," Blaine said, nudging the dorm room door open.

"This's your room," Kurt mumbled, ducking his head and flinching as the lights switched on. "Why're we in your room?"

"Because I don't want you in your own room where I can't keep an eye on you," Blaine said, helping him down on the bed. "I'll go to your dorm and grab whatever you need. You just lie down, okay?"

Kurt closed his eyes. "There's Excedrin Migraine in my medicine chest…" he said, covering his eyes with his forearm. "That's all I really need right now, I guess."

Blaine smoothed Kurt's hair and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "I'll be right back," he promised.

It didn't take long to run down to Kurt's room and find the medicine, but he paused long enough to pick out a pair of pajamas from the top drawer of his dresser. Kurt's room was painstakingly clean, but the walls were lavishly decorated with photographs of friends and family. If he had a little more time, he would totally snoop, but he didn't want to linger and leave Kurt alone too long.

He went back up his room and peeked inside. "Hey, I'm back," he said. Kurt was still in the same position he'd left him, flat on his back with his arm over his eyes. Blaine quickly switched off the overhead light. "Are you all right? Did you puke again?"

"No, but I'm tempted," Kurt sighed.

Blaine unbuttoned Kurt's blazer. "Well, if you change out of your uniform, I'll get you a glass of water so you can take your medicine," he said.

"You're a saint," Kurt said, wrestling with his tie. Blaine looked away, ducking his head as Kurt started to slide out of his shirt. They'd only been dating for two weeks- they hadn't really gotten very far on the whole physical thing.

He tipped out two round pills and rummaged around in his minifridge for a chilled bottle of water before clearing his throat. "You, uh…are you dressed?"

"Uh-huh."

He turned around to find Kurt curled up on his bed, barefoot and dressed in his pajamas. Blaine slid the pills into his cupped palm and twisted the cap off the bottle. "Here," he said.

Kurt took the medication and sipped at the water before closing his eyes and leaning back against the pillows. "Thank you," he sighed.

Blaine closed the blinds, shutting out the afternoon sunlight, and picked up a blanket. "Is there anything else you need?" he worried.

"No, I'm fine," Kurt murmured. "I'm just going to take a nap."

Blaine draped the blanket around him and kissed his warm cheek. "Get some sleep," he said. He hesitated, because he was about to blurt out I love you, but two weeks of dating was probably too soon for that. "I'll stay with you, okay? After…after I clean out my car."

Kurt winced. "Sorry," he said.

"It's okay," Blaine said, brushing Kurt's silky hair away from his forehead and kissing him lightly. "I'll check on you soon."

Kurt smiled, his eyes closed, and Blaine's heart gave a sentimental little leap.

[molliehummel]

The Particular Sadness of Chocolate Cake

"I don't want it," Kurt said dully.

Burt sliced through the chocolate cake, cutting a generous piece and plopping it on a plate. "It's your birthday, kiddo," he said, setting it down in front of Kurt and sliding a fork over to him. "You're only fifteen, you don't need to worry about being on a diet."

"I don't want it," Kurt repeated, staring at the cake. The glossy icing slid languidly onto the plate. "I hate it."

"You haven't even tried it," Burt said. "It's cake. Everybody likes cake. You want some ice cream to go with it?"

"I don't want it!" Kurt said, his voice rising. "It's disgusting!"

"It's a cake," Burt snapped. "Just eat it."

Kurt rolled his eyes and jabbed his fork viciously into the cake, scooping a large bite into his mouth. "There!" he said, spitting gooey crumbs across the table. He shoveled half the cake into his mouth, swallowing with an audible gulp and opening his empty mouth wide. "There, I ate it! Are you happy now?"

Burt gritted his teeth. "I thought you like chocolate cake," he said. "You liked it when you were little." He sat down at the end of the table with his own slice of cake and forked into it. "You were…" He paused. "You okay?"

Kurt shifted in his chair, his eyes downcast, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "I'm…I'm fine." He shoveled another heaping forkful of cake into his mouth. "I'm fine."

Burt eyed him warily. Kurt looked paler than usual, the freckles on his pert nose standing out like ink droplets. He opened his mouth to press further, then sighed and turned back to his dessert. "I've got your birthday presents in the living room," he said. "Do you wanna-"

"I don't want any fucking presents."

Burt dropped his fork. "Excuse me?" he stammered.

Kurt stared down at his plate, eyes saucer-wide and glazed over, his head tilted to the side. "I said…" he mumbled, and then his chin jerked up. "I said I don't want any fucking presents."

The first hot spike of panic shot through Burt's chest. "Don't talk to me like that," he warned.

Kurt pushed his plate away viciously, overturning it and knocking the fork on the floor. His glass of milk wobbled drunkenly before toppling over, splashing over the tablecloth and dribbling on his clothes. "I'll talk however I fucking want," he snapped, slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Burt pressed his hands flat on the table. "Calm down, Kurt," he said. "Calm down and we'll clean this up and-"

"My name's not Kurt."

Burt froze.

"My name's Robbie, you asshole," Kurt accused. "Can't you even bother to learn my name?"

And all of a sudden it all clicked into place- the muscles jumping in Kurt's locked jaw, the challenge in his eyes, the way his shoulders hunched. It wasn't his son. It was an alter. A new one.

"Ku…Robbie," Burt said, trying to keep his voice soft and low like he was talking to a spooked animal, his palms flat and open. "Robbie, you wanna tell me what's going on?"

"You really think I'm going to talk about it with you?" he said, rolling his eyes. "Just leave me alone."

Burt reached across the table to touch his arm lightly. "I can't help if-"

"I don't want you to help, just leave me the fuck alone!" Kurt sneered. He looked down at the wreckage of his birthday cake on the floor, biting down on his lips, and shoved his chair away from the table. "God, how much of that crap did you make me eat?"

"Kurt- Robbie, I just-" Burt called, but his son had already fled the dining room, the basement door slamming shut behind him. "Kurt!"

He pushed himself up and followed him, panic wrapping around his heart in a stranglehold. He was used to Kurt's other alters, even if he didn't like them all the much. He wasn't ready for a new one. He wasn't ready to see what kind of new torture this Robbie would wreak on his little boy.

"Robbie?" Burt called as he walked down the stairs. Kurt's basement bedroom was cluttered, a lot messier than usual, a rambling combination of his childhood toys and family photographs combinde with his sleek new furniture and glossy posters of Hollywood stars. His son was nowhere to be found, but the bathroom door was shut tight, light gleaming out from under it. "Robbie, you all right?"

All he could hear was a heavy gagging, and then the sound of his son heaving the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Burt's blood ran cold. "Kurt!" he said, jiggling the handle. "Kurt, are you getting sick?" He didn't hear anything but the sound of the toilet flush. "Answer me!"

"It's a little hard to say anything when you've got your finger down your throat," Kurt retorted.

"You're making yourself throw up?" Burt said, his voice rising. He leveled his shoulder at the door and tried to shove it up, but the lock held too tight. "Open this door right now!"

Kurt threw up again, his breath catching in his throat. "Just leave me alone," he said.

"Kurt-"

"My name's Robbie, and leave me alone!"

Burt closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the door, his stomach sinking. "Fine," he said. "Fine, Robbie, I'll leave you alone. But…but I'll be upstairs if you need me, okay?"

There was no response. Burt pressed his hand to the door, as if he could somehow reach his child that way, then curled his fingers inward and tuning away with a frustrated slap to the door. Kurt didn't answer, and Burt headed slowly up the stairs, his steps heavy.

He sank down on the living room couch, his head in his hands. He couldn't do this. Not again. He'd learned to manage with the other personalities- not that he could handle them, but he'd learned to manage. But if Kurt had a new one…

Robbie. The new one was Robbie. And he was angry. And he was going to hurt Kurt.

He glanced over at the little pile of abandoned birthday presents, a faint little pang making his heart ache. Kurt would want his gifts. Robbie wouldn't care. He had to wait for Kurt to come back- and who knew when that could be?

He sat there for a long time, lost in his thoughts. The faint daylight outside faded away, leaving him in the dark, and finally he forced himself up. The kitchen was a mess from his attempt at making a birthday dinner for Kurt, and milk was still pooling on the floor under the table. It took him a few hours to clean up, putting the food away and washing the dishes and mopping up the spilled milk. He started to put the cake away, but he slammed the refrigerator door and threw it in the trash instead. Kurt clearly wasn't going to touch it, and he'd lost his appetite for it.

He heard a faint sound from the basement; he paused by the door to listen. It sounded like Kurt was crying. He closed his eyes. If it was his own son crying, he'd go down there and make sure if he was all right. If it was the new alter…he didn't dare upsetting it further.

He switched off the porch lights and double checked to make sure the door was locked. Kurt's crying was growing louder; he wondered if he should risk angering the new alter and going down there to look in on him.

He hadn't seen this coming. Kurt hadn't had a new alter emerge in ages. He thought he had just been upset. The kid had left for school all bright-eyed and beaming in the new jacket he'd bought with his birthday money, and he came home in his gym clothes. He hadn't been able to get the story out- Kurt had disappeared into the bathroom as soon as he got home and mumbled something about pee balloons, although that couldn't be right. He'd probably said something else and the roar of the shower had covered it up.

Kurt was still crying. Maybe he should go check on him. But he didn't want to take his chances. Better to just let him cry it out; he could take Kurt to his doctor tomorrow and get this straightened out. Kurt didn't need him, he needed a professional who could help him the way he deserved.

"Daddy?"

He froze. That wasn't the new alter. It didn't even sound like Kurt.

"Daddy! Daddy, please!"

It was Tyler.

Burt pulled the basement door open and ran down the stairs, his heart in his mouth. Tyler was the first alter, and the one that hurt the most. Tyler was his own little boy, trapped at eight years old, and in his mind he'd endured the car accident that killed his mother only days ago.

He ran into Kurt's room and flipped on the lights. His son was curled up in his armchair in the corner, his hands over his ears. "Daddy!" he screamed. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

"It's okay," Burt said, kneeling in front of the chair and wrapping his hands around Kurt's thin shoulders. "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Kurt looked up, his face red and blotchy and streaked with tears. "I had a bad dream!" he sobbed, and he flung his arms around Burt's neck, hiding his face in his chest.

"It's okay," Burt said, stroking his thick silky hair. "Sh, sh, sh, it was just a dream. You're safe."

Kurt scooted closer, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. "I was scared," he said, "I was really scared."

"I know," Burt soothed. He picked Kurt up- he was getting too heavy to be carried, but Tyler was always begging to be held and cuddled. Kurt clung to him, rubbing his damp cheek against his shoulder, and Burt carried him over to the bed. "Put on your pajamas and go to bed."

Kurt shook his head and scooted back against the pillows, his knees curled up against his chest. "I don't want to," he said tearfully. "I'll have bad dreams again."

Burt rummaged around in Kurt's dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of soft flannel pajamas. "You'll be okay," he promised. "Come on, arms up."

Kurt obeyed, sniffling hard, and Burt tugged his tee shirt over his head. He looked so small, hunched into a little ball on his bed, his narrow chest pale and his jeans sliding down his hips. But he just looked like a small-for-his-age fifteen-year-old, not like an eight-year-old. "Come on, Ty, put your pajamas on," he coaxed. "Time for bed."

Kurt obeyed slowly, wriggling out of his jeans and tugging on his pajamas. "I can't button my shirt," he said in a small voice, wiping his running nose with the back of his hand.

Burt silently handed him a tissue and fastened the row of small buttons. Kurt blew his nose loudly and handed the tissue back to Burt. "I want Raleigh," he said. "Where's Raleigh?"

Burt threw the tissue away and paused, racking his brain. "He's, uh…I think he's in the washing machine," he said. "You got peanut butter on him, remember? I had to give him a bath."

"But…I can't sleep without Raleigh!" Kurt wailed. "Daddy, please. I won't sleep. I won't."

Burt swore under his breath and opened up the dresser drawers, digging around frantically and making a mess of Kurt's things. "Here," he said, pulling out the well-loved stuffed elephant and tossing it at him. "Here's Raleigh. You want your blanket too?"

Kurt nodded, hugging Raleigh under his arm and holding out his hand. Burt pulled out the blanket without bothering to slide the drawers back in and handed it to him. "There," he said, smoothing a hand over Kurt's hair. "You ready to sleep now?"

Kurt nodded, sliding under the covers with Raleigh under one arm and his baby blanket under the other. Burt reached beside the nightstand to plug in the nightlight- Kurt didn't care about it, but Zack and Tyler couldn't sleep without it.

"Daddy?" Kurt quavered.

He turned around. "Yeah, buddy?" he said.

"Could you snuggle with me?" Kurt whispered. "Until I fall asleep?"

Burt hesitated. "Yeah, kiddo," he said. "Scoot over." Kurt obeyed, making room in the narrow bed for him. He pulled the blankets over both of them and Kurt nestled close, tucking his head against Burt's chest.

Burt stroked Kurt's hair and kissed the top of his head. It made his heart hurt to know how sick his little boy was, to watch him fall apart. It didn't happen often, but there was always the threat of a breakdown lurking under the surface. One wrong move, one bad trigger, and something might happen. And there was always the chance that his illness might get worse. It haunted his thoughts, the idea of his child on heavy medication, or locked away in a hospital.

"Daddy, do you love me?" Kurt whispered.

"Of course," Burt said, rubbing his back.

"No matter what?"

"No matter what."

"So I'll always be your baby?"

"Yeah, you'll always be my baby, K…" Burt paused and closed his eyes tightly. "Tyler."

Apparently satisfied, his son cuddled up close, squishing his stuffed elephant between them, and began to doze off, his cheek nuzzling his soft blue blanket. Burt held him tightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of Kurt's chest as he drifted off to sleep, and prayed to every saint and angel he could think of that somehow he could have his sweet little boy back.

[molliehummel]

The two five-year-olds stared daggers at each other. "Thtop it, Rachel!" Kurt said, stamping his foot. "You're not the both!"

"I am so the boss," Rachel said. She jammed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "My daddies tell me I'm the boss, and so that means that you can't be Ariel. I want you to be Sleeping Beauty, 'cause your hair's the right color. Lucy has to be Ariel, 'cause she's got red hair."

Lucy raised a hand meekly. "I wanna be Mulan," she said. "Kurt can be Ariel."

"I wanna be Ariel!" Kurt wailed. "Thleeping Beauty ith tho boring. She jutht thleeps!"

"No, I'm the boss, and you have to do what I say," Rachel said firmly. "I'm Belle, you're Sleeping Beauty, Lucy is Ariel, and Blaine is the prince."

Blaine frowned. "Which one?"

"All of them."

"Do I get a name?"

"No."

"What about me?" Finn said. "You said I can play!"

Rachel reached up on tiptoes and patted the top of his head. "You can be our pony," she said kindly.

Finn stared at her, gap-toothed mouth agape, and stomped away. "I'm not playing anymore!" he hollered over his shoulder.

"But you have to!" Rachel called. "Now we don't have a pony! Princesses need ponies!"

"I wanna be Ariel!" Kurt screeched. "You can't tell me what to do! I'm gonna tell! I'm gonna tell my mama on you!"

He spun on his heel and ran away, back towards the benches where the parents sat. Rachel's mouth dropped open. "No! Kurt! I'm sorry!" she yelled, running after him. "Kurt! Don't you know what 'I'm sorry' means? It means don't tell your mommy!"

Kurt, already on the brink of a frustrated temper tantrum, wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him towards the safety of his mother, but he skirted a little too close around the edge of the park's pond, and the toe of his sneaker caught in a thick patch of weeds. With a sudden surprised yelp he tumbled into the cold water, splashing down face first.

Rachel skidded to a halt and stared at him in terror. "I didn't do it!" she screamed.

Kurt scrambled to sit up in the shallow water, his clothes streaked with mud and his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He took a deep shuddering gasp of a breath and burst into terrified tears, burying his face in his hands.

Blaine ran over and hopped into the shallow water feet first. "It's okay!" he said, grabbing Kurt's hands. "You're okay, get up!"

"I w-want m-my m-mommy!" Kurt sobbed, his shoulders hitching.

"I know," Blaine said, bending over him and patting the top of his wet head. "It's okay. Here, wanna hold my hand?"

He held out his hand with a hopeful smile. Still crying helplessly, Kurt blindly latched onto Blaine's fingers and allowed him to tug him to his feet. "It's okay," Blaine soothed, squeezing Kurt's hand. "You're just wet. Wet's not too bad, right?"

"I'm wet and c-cold!" Kurt wailed. He pulled his hand out of Blaine's grasp and stood in the middle of the pond in abject defeat, still sobbing. "I wanna go home! I want my mommy!"

Blaine patiently took Kurt's hand again and waded out of the pond, dragging the smaller boy behind him. "See? Now you're out of the pond and you're okay," he said, petting the top of Kurt's head.

"Zachary Blaine Anderson! Why are you all wet?"

Blaine looked from his wide-eyed big sister down to his soaked socks and sneakers. Even the hem of his shorts were wet. "Um…"

"Rachel made Kurt cry and he ran away to tell his mama and he fell in the pond and Blaine went and got him," Lucy reported.

Rachel pushed Lucy, knocking her backwards into the grass. Lucy let out a startled wail. "You told on me!" Rachel accused, and she started to cry.

"Mama's gonna be mad when she sees that you got all wet," Francey warned, and Blaine's lower lip began to tremble.

Finn ran over to them, leading a whole swarm of parents behind him. "What on earth is going on?" one of Rachel's daddies asked.

Kurt's pretty mama ran over to him; he lifted his arms up to be held and started to cry harder. She took off her cardigan and wrapped it around him, then picked him up and cuddled him close. "It's all right, baby, it's all right," she crooned, patting his back as he sobbed into her shoulder, clearly not minding that he was soaking her dress with dirty pond water. "Mama's here, honey. Mama's here."

"She pushed me!" Lucy said, hiding behind her mother's legs and pointing furiously at Rachel.

"It's not my fault, she tattled!" Rachel cried.

Blaine's lower lip continued to wobble. "I just wanted to help Kurt," he told his big sister, clinging desperately to her hand. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."

"I'm still confused," Rachel's other daddy said, looking from one hysterical kindergartener to the next. "What happened?"

Finn cleared his throat. "Rachel was bossing Kurt around," he explained. "Kurt was gonna go tell his mommy, and he fell in the pond when he was running, and so he was crying and stuff, so Blaine went to help him, and then Blaine's sister was mad that he was wet, and he started crying, and Lucy told her what happened, and then Rachel got mad and pushed Lucy, and Lucy started crying, and then Rachel yelled 'cause Lucy tattled and then she started crying." He took a deep breath and beamed proudly at the adults. "I'm not crying, though!"

"Good job, honey," his mom said, patting his head and looking like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Rachel's daddies knelt down to look at her. "Princess, were you trying to be the boss again?" the taller daddy asked.

She dug the toe of her mary jane shoe into the grass. "Nooooo," she said slowly. He raised an eyebrow and she sighed. "But I knew what we should do! They just wouldn't listen to me!"

The other daddy picked her up. "Rae-Rae, we're going to have a long talk when we get home about being bossy," he said.

She sighed. "Another one?" she said.

"I'm really sorry about this," the tall daddy said to Kurt's mommy.

"Oh, these things can happen," she said, resting her cheek against the top of Kurt's head. "Little kids are like this. I'm sure they'll be best friends again tomorrow."

"Mommy, I wanna go home," Kurt sniffled.

She hugged him tightly. "I think that's a good idea," she said. "How about a nice warm bath and some comfy jammies, hm?"

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand. "And hot chocolate?" he said. She nodded and kissed his cheek. He gave a last shuddery half-sob. "Mommy, can I thay goodbye to Blaine before we go? He thaved me."

"Yes, KK, you can say goodbye to Blaine," she said.

She set him down on the ground. He drew his mother's sweater around his shoulders like a little prince's cape and walked over to Blaine, his shoes squelching noisily. "Thank you for thaving my life, Blaine," he said solemnly.

Blaine knotted his hands behind his back and ducked his head, his cheeks pinking. "You're welcome," he said shyly. He looked up suddenly. "Maybe we-"

But Kurt had leaned in just that second to give him a thank-you kiss on the cheek, and as Blaine turned his head, he ended up kissing the corner of his mouth instead. Both little boys hopped back in startled surprise.

"You kissed me!" Blaine said, shocked.

"No, you kithed me!" Kurt said. He whirled around. "Mommy! Do Blaine and I hafta get married now? Becauthe in all the printheth movies, when the printh and printheth kith, it meanth they're married!"

Blaine frowned. "You don't want to marry me?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "Why not? What's wrong with me?"

"There'th nothing wrong with you, I jutht think I'm too young to be married right now!" Kurt retorted. He flung his arms around his mommy's legs. "Mommy! Tell me! Do Blaine and I hafta get married?"

Kurt's mommy looked like she was having a very hard time not laughing. "You're too young to be married," she reassured him, her blue eyes dancing. She picked him up and set him on her hip. "What about when you're older?"

Kurt stopped to ponder this. "Maybe," he said. " I hafta think about it. Maybe when I'm older."

Blaine nodded seriously. "Okay," he said. "Are you coming to play tomorrow?"

Kurt looked hopefully at his mother. She nodded. "Uh-huh," he said, wrapping his arms around his mother's neck. "But tomorrow I better be Ariel. You can be Printh Eric, okay?"

Blaine brightened. "Okay!" he said.

"We'll see you later, Blaine," Kurt's mommy said, patting his cheek. "Say goodbye to your boyfriend, Kurt."

Kurt blushed rosy red. "He'th not my boyfriend, Mommy!" he protested. She laughed and walked back to their car, carrying him on her hip. Blaine waved goodbye.

Kurt leaned over his mother's shoulder. "Bye, boyfriend," he mouthed, waving back.

Blaine turned scarlet, grinning from ear to ear.

(Art by Ripaille)

[molliehummel]

Anderberry Siblings

"…and I just don't know what that's supposed to mean," Rachel wailed, dropping her hands to her lap. "Kurt, you're his brother, what does he mean?"

"I don't know," Kurt shrugged, leaning back against the plush pillows of Rachel's bed. "I try not to think about what goes on in Finn's head."

Rachel huffed in exasperation and flopped backwards on her bed, but sat up when the door open. "Rachel, sweetie, do you kids want pizza?" her mother asked. "Hi, Mercedes. Hi, Kurt."

"Hi, Shelby," Kurt and Mercedes chorused.

Shelby leaned against the doorway. "Seriously, honey, I know you're all torn up about this football player business, but as dramatic as it is, you can't stop eating and waste away to nothing till he arrives to sob at your bedside," she said dryly.

"Fine," Rachel sighed.

"What should I get? Pepperoni?" Shelby asked. "Your sister wants extra cheese and your brother wants Hawaiian."

"As long as the pepperoni's vegan," Rachel grumbled.

"I'll do my best," Shelby said. A thin baby cry echoed from down the hall and she glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, Beth's crying. I'll get Francey to order for us, okay?"

"No, Mom, last time she got Meat Lover's just to spite me!" Rachel called, but her mother had already hurried down the hall to get the baby from her nap. "Ugh. I hate my family."

"Aw, Rachel, you know you love them," Mercedes grinned.

"I'd rather be an only child," Rachel grumbled. "Or at least the only girl."

Kurt stretched his legs down the length of the bed. "At least you're not a twin," he said. He picked up a bottle of pale blue nail polish and shook it. "I swear, if we had been identical, Dad would never be able to tell us apart. As is it, my name might as well be Quinn and her name might as well be Kurt, he mixes us up so much. And now we've got Finn in the house too. Thank God we don't have a dog, because Dad would totally start calling us Buster or Rover or Amanda or whatever we named it."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "You want to name your dog Amanda?" she said.

"Quinn and I watch a lot of Ugly Betty," Kurt shrugged.

"I would give anything to be an only child," Rachel said fervently. Kurt sighed as she launched into her oft-repeated tirade and started idly painting his fingernails. "That way my parents could focus solely on my career instead of saving for four different college funds, and I wouldn't have to suffer from middle child syndrome, and I wouldn't- Blaine, get out of my room!"

She picked up a pillow and chucked it at her brother as he stuck his head in her bedroom. He wrinkled his nose as the fluffy pink fleece attacked his face. "You're having another sleepover?" Blaine said.

Mercedes waved. "Hey, Blaine," she said.

"You're not invited, Blaine, because pesky little brothers are not welcome at sleepovers," Rachel said loftily. "You especially wore out your welcome at my sixth birthday when you ate all of the Tootsie Rolls out of my pinata and threw up on my new microphone stage."

"First of all, I'm only ten months younger than you-" Blaine started to counter.

Rachel held up her pointer finger, glaring fiercely. "Because you were an accident," she accused.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "…and second of all, I only ate the Tootsie Rolls because Noah Puckerman dared me to," he said. "And I-"

He paused. "Oh," he said. "Hi, Kurt."

Kurt glanced up from his nail polish. "Hi, Blaine," he said. "How are you?"

"Fine," Blaine said. He took a step forward, then sat down on the edge of the bed beside Kurt. "Fine. School's great. Awesome, actually." He cleared his throat. "I've got another solo. We're doing a Pink medley."

Kurt smiled. "That's fantastic," he said

Rachel gave Blaine a push, sliding him off the bed and onto the floor. "I know you want to be part of the sleepover fun, little brother, but this is for me, Mercedes, and Kurt only," she said. "We have important things to discuss. So go away. Come back when the pizza's here."

"Well, someone's in a bad mood," Blaine said, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Don't worry, I'll go. Bye, Mercedes."

"Bye, boo," Mercedes said.

Blaine smiled, his cheeks pinking a little. "Bye, Kurt," he said.

"Bye," Kurt said absently, carefully painting his thumbnail light blue.

"Goodbye, Blaine," Rachel huffed. Blaine sighed and left the room. "And close the door!"

Mercedes waited for the door to close all the way before turning on Kurt, grinning like a cat that got in the cream. "Kurt, I think Rachel's brother has a crush on you," she grinned.

Kurt jumped, nearly upending the bottle of nail polish. "I didn't…what?" he stammered.

"He very well might be," Rachel shrugged. "I mean, he's been writing a lot in his diary about some boy that he likes, but he won't write the name." She looked up guiltily. "I mean…not that I read his diary…"

Mercedes elbowed Kurt playfully. "Blaine's pretty cute," she teased. "In that prep school kid way."

"You don't honestly think he likes me, do you?" Kurt stammered. "I mean…I never thought…could he?"

"You are his type," Rachel mused.

"Oh, he likes Kurt, all right."

They glanced up to see Rachel's older sister leaning against the doorway. "Hey, Francey," Mercedes grinned.

Francey strolled into the room, tossing her coat on her bed and kicking off her shoes. "Frances, stop messing up our room," Rachel snapped. "You know, you never clean up our shared space. I even made up a chore schedule that you choose to ignore."

"Ignoring that," Francey said breezily as she flopped onto her bed. "Kurt, baby, Blaine is in love with you. It's adorable. He keeps waxing poetic about your voice and your eyes and stuff…and all kinds of borderline creepy things like that."

"Aw, that's not creepy, that's sweet," Mercedes cooed. She pinched Kurt's cheek. "Your first love."

Kurt stared dumbly at the pink walls of Rachel's bedroom, his mind racing. He really did like Blaine- he was kind, and charming, and he was a fantastic singer. But he had never thought of him as…as a potential boyfriend.

Francey laughed. "I think we broke Kurt," she said. "Shit, baby, didn't you notice all those big puppy dog eyes he keeps flashing at you? God, he's been pining after you for months."

Rachel sighed. "Fantastic," she said. "This is the last thing I need, my little brother taking away one of the best members of my support team."

"Hey, you still have me," Mercedes protested.

Shelby knocked as she entered the room, sleepy baby Beth tucked up on her hip. "Kids, the pizza's here," she said. "Wash up and sit down at the table. Francey, honey, clean up your stuff."

"Aren't we waiting for Dad?" Francey asked.

"Daddy's working late," Shelby said.

Rachel's face fell. "Again?" she said.

Francey tugged on one of Rachel's braids. "Cheer up, princess," she said. "C'mon, you'd better hurry or I'm going to make you eat some of Blaine's Hawaiian pizza. It has ham on it."

Rachel's jaw dropped in indignant horror and Shelby just sighed. "Girls, stop bickering," she said.

Kurt tuned out the argument. He was trying to figure out how he could possibly sit down at the same dinner table as Blaine. Eye contact. How did eye contact work again?

[molliehummel]

Blessing

Blaine sat down carefully in the soft early spring grass and set down his small bouquet of yellow rosebuds. The pale gray marble was beautifully polished and there were no weeds to be found around the plot. He sat there for a moment, studying the stone, his hands knotted in his lap.

She could practically see the thoughts racing through Blaine's mind, the words for his simple speech falling into orderly lines. This was a long time coming; she had been waiting for this from the first time her son brought her boyfriend to visit her.

"Hi, Mrs. Hummel," Blaine said at last. "It's Blaine."

He toyed with the cuffs of his shirt. "I've already talked to Burt about this, and he's all for it," he said. "And Carole and Emily. They're so excited. But…I feel like I need to ask you too, before I went through with it."

She pressed her hands to her mouth, the warmth of happy tears already burning behind her eyes.

"I love your son," Blaine said simply. "I love Kurt so much. I love…the way he talks with his hands when he gets excited, and the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. I love him when I find him sleepwalking in the living room, and when he wakes me up in the middle of the night because I won't stop grinding my teeth, and when he gets mad at me for forgetting to check if the dishwasher is clean before I put more dishes in."

She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her knuckles, listening in rapt attention, wishing she could answer.

"I love him," Blaine said. "I can't imagine ever being without him. And…with your permission, I want to ask him to marry me."

He pulled a small black velvet box out of his jacket pocket. "Burt gave me your wedding ring," he said softly. "They resized it to fit, and…it's not like the Tiffany rings that Kurt's been looking at online when he thinks I'm not paying attention, but I think he'll like it just the same."

If she could still cry, she would have. She had loved her wedding ring. It was a simple white eternity gold band inlaid with tiny little diamonds- a lot more than Burt should have spent, but he had known how much she would love it. And now, here was her ring, the little symbol of her husband's love for her, and now her son would wear it, to show the world how much he was loved.

Blaine closed the box. "I just hope…that it's okay with you," he said.

She leaned forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. He couldn't feel it. Blaine just sat there a little while longer, running his fingertips along the edges of the rose petals, before sliding the box back in his pocket and getting up quietly.

Mollie watched him leave, unable to follow.

[molliehummel]

Food Poisoning

"I blame you," Blaine mumbled into his pillow.

"Why…why are you blaming me?" Kurt said. He leaned into the arm of the chair and rubbed his temples. "It's not my fault."

"Yes, it is. It was your idea to go out dinner."

"You picked the restaurant."

"You said you wanted seafood."

"You ate everything in one sitting."

"You-"

Blaine paused in mid-argument to lean over the edge of the couch and throw up in the trash can. "I'm going to die," he whined.

"You're not going to die," Kurt said, already moving to clean out the trash can. "It's just food poisoning. You'll be okay."

"It feels like my insides are dissolving," Blaine complained, rolling onto his back and drawing his knees up to his chest. "I will never eat again."

"You'll be okay," Kurt repeated. He handed Blaine a glass of Gatorade and sat beside him on the couch. "Drink this." He stroked Blaine's sweat-soaked limp curls off his forehead. "You're still warm."

Blaine closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. "Your hand feels nice," he said.

"Drink your Gatorade," Kurt said. He tucked the blanket around Blaine's waist. "Do you need anything?"

"Maybe some saltines," Blaine said.

Kurt smiled, rubbing his thumb against Blaine's cheek. "I thought you were never going to eat again," he said.

"I think it'll help settle my stomach," Blaine said defensively.

Kurt kissed him on the forehead and took the empty glass out of his hand. "I'll bring you some crackers," he promised. "Lie down. I'll be right back. And we can watch a movie, okay?"

"I might fall asleep," Blaine threatened.

"My, someone gets cranky when they're sick," Kurt teased, and Blaine stuck his tongue out at him before sliding down on the couch and pulling the blankets up to his shoulders. He hadn't really planned on spending the weekend with a bad bout of food poisoning, but he'd been stuck ever since they had come back from their date the night before and threw up in the bushes outside his front porch.

The front door banged open. "Hey! Where's the puker?" a voice bellowed.

"Francey, stop shouting," Blaine whined.

His older sister sashayed into the living room and sat down beside him. "Aw, you always get fussy when you're sick," Francey said. She kissed his forehead. "What's been going on, Babbie? Kurt called me in a panic this morning."

He nestled into her side. "We went out to dinner last night and I think I got food poisoning," he said.

"What did you eat?" she asked.

"Salmon," he said. "I never want to touch that stuff again for the rest of my life."

"Poor baby," she cooed, ruffling his limp curls. "Kurt's been taking good care of you, though. I see all the hallmarks of a Blaine Anderson sick episode- fleece pajama pants, your favorite blanket, your copy of Narnia…and let me guess, he's bringing you saltines and Gatorade?" He rolled his eyes. "Geez, Blaine, you're such an attention whore when you're sick. I bet you've been making Kurt run around like a maniac, serving your every whim."

"He just feels bad that I'm sick," Blaine said. "He likes taking care of me."

Suddenly the sounds of glass shattering echoed from the kitchen, and then a heavy thump.

"Kurt? What did you break?" Francey called.

"...'m fine."

"Kurt?" Francey sat up, tilting her head. "Blaine?" she said. "What did Kurt have to eat at the restaurant?"

"Same thing," Blaine said. "But he's not sick, he said he's-"

Francey got up, pushing Blaine's blanket back and bolting for the kitchen. Blaine frowned.

"Can you bring my crackers?" he called forlornly.

He sat there and waited. And waited. And waited some more. He could hear muffled voices from the kitchen, and footsteps on the stairs, and the clang and swish of the washing machine starting up. It seemed like an hour before anyone came back.

"Finally!" he said, exasperated. "Did you bring my…Kurt?"

"Kurt's going to lie down with you," Francey said. "Guess who else has food poisoning?"

Blaine pulled himself up. "Oh my god," he said. "Kurt? Are you sick?"

His boyfriend leaned heavily on the support of Francey's arm, dressed in a pair of Blaine's pajama pants and an old Dalton tee shirt. "I'm okay," Kurt said in a small voice. His face had gone dead white and he was shaking.

"He's a liar," Francey informed Blaine. "A fucking liar who lies. He pulled a Linda Blair in the kitchen. It was hideous. Here, Ducky, sit."

Francey helped Kurt lie down on the other end of the couch. "Oh my god, sweetheart, how long have you been sick?" Blaine asked.

"Um…"

"Since last night," Francey said. "He's just really good at stealth puking. Can't even hear him." She pulled another blanket down from the back of the couch and tucked it snugly around Kurt. "You've got chills. Lie still and stay warm, okay?" She took a step back. "Oh god, I'd better get another trash can, shouldn't I?" She threw her hands up in despair. "I get to spend the weekend cleaning up puke! I'm so excited!"

She stomped off, muttering under her breath. Blaine leaned forward and rubbed Kurt's hip. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he asked.

"You needed me," Kurt said, shivering as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. "I just figured…as long as you didn't know, I could take care of you."

Blaine scooted over to lie down behind Kurt. "Move over, I want to be the big spoon," he said. Kurt smiled faintly and snuggled back into his chest. Blaine draped an arm around Kurt's waist and pulled the blankets over both of them. "I can't believe you let me be such a jerk."

"You're not a jerk," Kurt said. "A lot of people get whiny and demanding when they're sick."

"I'm whinier than most," Blaine admitted. He sighed heavily. "I made you run all over the house and do everything for me."

"It's okay," Kurt said. "I want to take care of you. I love you."

Blaine stroked Kurt's stomach, tangling his fingers in the thin cotton of his shirt and tracing patterns into his soft cool skin. "And I love you, and I don't want you to make yourself sicker on my behalf," he said. "Next time you're sick, you need to tell me right away, okay? No matter what."

"Mmkay," Kurt murmured, cuddling closer to Blaine's warmth. "I'd kiss you, but-"

"Yeah, gross," Blaine said.

Francey stomped back in and dropped a second trash can on the floor. "Yes, you two are adorable as a pair of baby kittens, but you have got to fucking separate," she said.

"But he's cold, and I'm keeping him warm," Blaine whined, snuggling closer and rubbing his cheek against the back of Kurt's neck. "And cuddling makes me feel better. Don't you want me to feel better?"

"Zachary Blaine Anderson, if you stay where you are and you have to throw up again, you will vomit directly into Kurt's ear."

"Oh."

"That's so gross," Kurt mumbled, and he leaned over to heave into the trash can.

"You boys owe me," Francey said grimly as Blaine rubbed Kurt's back. "You owe me big time."

[molliehummel]

May 12th

"What's with the face, Blaine?" Nick inquired.

Blaine dropped his chin in his hand. "I'm not making a face," he scowled.

"Ooh, trouble with Kurt already?" Jeff asked. He plopped down beside Blaine on the slippery leather couch.. "Tell me all about it. I can help."

"You can't keep a girlfriend longer than a month or two," Nick said. "How are you supposed to give Blaine relationship advice?" He sat down on Blaine's other side. "I've been with Zooey for two years. I can help. Here, tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," Blaine muttered. He pushed himself off the couch. "I'll see you guys later, okay?"

"But…what about Warbler rehearsal?" Jeff called. "You've never missed one!"

"Tell Wes I don't feel well," Blaine said. "And you can take my solo for practice today."

He shut the door to the rehearsal room and stalked down the hallway, fumbling for his phone. Still no reply from Kurt. Kurt hadn't talked to him since lunchtime the day before. He didn't call him last night before bed, they didn't exchange good morning texts, they didn't message back and forth during the morning classes, they didn't chat during lunch. Kurt hadn't answered a single time. And he didn't know how to feel about it- worried, or angry, or hurt, or concerned.

Blaine punched in Kurt's speed dial; it rang a few times before switching to voicemail. "Hey, Kurt, it's me again," he said, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Listen, I don't understand why you're ignoring me. If you could just call me back, that would be great. Thanks. Bye."

He hit end so viciously he had to check to make sure he hadn't cracked the screen. This is what he'd been afraid of when Kurt insisted on going back to McKinley. It had only been a month and a half, and Kurt was already growing apart from him.

Blaine tugged at his tie and nudged the door to his dormitory open with his hip. This was it. This was the slow decline. A few more weeks of this and it would all crash and burn around him.

"Blaine! Thank God! There you are!"

He jumped, nearly dropping his school bag. "Finn!" he gasped. "You scared the life out of me!"

"Sorry," Finn apologized, but he didn't really seem that sorry. He clutched Kurt's phone in his hand, his fingers smearing over the screen. "We need to talk."

Blaine's blood ran cold. "So Kurt sent you to break up with me?" he said. "He couldn't even do it himself?"

"No, no, he's not breaking up with you," Finn said. "He hasn't touched his phone since last night because it's…well, it's May 12th."

"What's so important about May 12th?" Blaine asked.

Finn opened his mouth, closed it, and scratched the back of his neck. "Can we go somewhere and talk about this?" he said. "It's…it's kind of important."

"We can go up to my room," Blaine said. "My roommate's out."

Finn followed him silently up the stairs. Blaine unlocked the door and shrugged out of his blazer, dropping it on his desk chair. Finn sat down on Blaine's messily made twin-sized bed, looking oversized and out of place. "So what's so important about May 12th?" Blaine asked, toeing off his shoes.

"Hang on," Finn said. He unlocked the home screen on Kurt's phone and fiddled around with it. "Okay, yeah. Have you seen this lady before?"

Blaine took the phone from him. "I saw pictures of her in Kurt's room," he said, frowning. "And at the house." He studied the photograph, then handed it back. "What does it have to do with anything?"

"That's Kurt's mother."

"His birth mother?" Blaine said. He took a closer look at the photo. The young woman certainly did look like Kurt- same fair skin, same long-lashed blue eyes, same pretty bone structure. "I haven't met her yet. Kurt never bothered to introduce me to her."

Finn blinked. "You…you can't meet her," he said.

"Why? Messy divorce?"

"No."

"Then why won't Kurt introduce me to his mother?"

"Because she died."

Blaine froze.

"His mother died," Finn repeated.

"She…she's dead?" he said. His collar suddenly felt too tight. "I just thought…when he told me his dad was getting remarried, I just assumed…divorce is pretty common…"

Finn looked down at the picture in his hands. "Nope," he said. "She died when he was eight years old." He glanced up at Blaine. "Nine years ago today."

Blaine sank down in his desk chair. "I am the most thoughtless, selfish person ever," he said blankly.

"No, dude, it's okay," Finn said, tight-lipped. "I didn't realize it was today until I was already yelling at him this morning to get up and go to school."

Blaine ran a hand through his hair. "How…I mean…"

"She was sick," Finn said. "Sicker than they thought. She died a month after Kurt's birthday. Burt went to Cincinnati to deliver a part, and when he got back early in the morning he found them both asleep in Kurt's bed but…but she was already gone."

Blaine covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh my god," he breathed.

"Kurt looks just like her too," Finn said quietly. "We've got some pictures of her in the house…and I've seen some of their old home movies. He sounds like her. She could sing, you know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think the really sad part, though…in the videos, Kurt's…I don't know. Happier. And not just little-kid happy. He just seems-"

"Like he didn't have to grow up so fast," Blaine said softly. He looked up at Finn. "Where is he right now?"

"He and his dad usually spend the anniversary together," Finn said. "They go to some of her favorite places, get her flowers and go to her grave."

"When are they coming back?" Blaine asked.

Finn shrugged. "I don't know," he said.

Blaine stood up. "Could…could I go back to your house with you?" he asked.

Finn smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I was hoping you would say that."

It was a long drive back to the Hudson-Hummel house. And it was still another three hours before Kurt and his father came home. They bided their time in uneasy quiet, as if they were hesitant to sound too cheerful or too happy.

The front door finally creaked open at ten o'clock at night. Blaine sat up on the couch, his stomach suddenly twisting in apprehensive knots. Finn glanced at him, then at the door, and crept out of the living room.

Burt tugged Kurt into the house, his arm around his son's shoulders. "Go to bed, kiddo," he said softly. "You're exhausted."

"I don't think I can sleep," Kurt said. His voice sounded thin and raspy. "I just…don't want to do anything."

Burt kissed him softly on the temple. "Scooter, it's okay," he said. "It's a rough day. You'll feel better in the morning after you've gotten some sleep."

"Sleep isn't going to change anything," Kurt said in a tight faint voice like a lost child's, and Blaine stood up without thinking.

"Kurt?" he said hesitantly.

Kurt turned towards him, shadows from the faint warm light of the hall lamp casting over his face. He looked worn out, his mouth drooping and his eyes bloodshot from crying. His jaw dropped. "Oh, Blaine," he said, relieved and exhausted all at once, and he flung himself into Blaine's arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Blaine murmured, his arms closing tight around Kurt's trembling frame. He sank down on the couch, pulling Kurt down with him. Kurt folded up tightly against him, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head resting against Blaine's stomach. Blaine stroked Kurt's hair and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "It's okay. Sh, sh, sh. I'm here." He kissed him again and rested his cheek against Kurt's soft hair. "I'm here."

"Blaine, I…I can't…" Kurt whimpered. "I can't."

Burt walked over to them and gently placed his hand on his child's back. "It's going to be okay, scooter," he said. "Let's get you upstairs. You need to sleep."

Burt pulled Kurt gently to his feet and guided him towards the stairs. "Can Blaine stay?" Kurt pleaded, leaning heavily into his father's side. Please, Dad?"

"As long as he doesn't mind," Burt said. He shot Blaine a sharp look. "And the door stays open." Blaine nodded.

Burt supported Kurt into his room and eased him down to sit on the edge of the bed. Kurt rubbed his face, exhaling a deep shuddering breath. "Go to bed, kiddo," Burt said. He cupped Kurt's cheeks in his hands and kissed him on the forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," Kurt said, shoulders hitching as he tried to breathe evenly. Burt smoothed his hair affectionately and patted Blaine's arm on the way out the door.

Blaine sat down beside Kurt and wrapped an arm around him. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Kurt closed his eyes and tilted his head up, shoulders slumping. He looked young and out of place, his simple black tee shirt and jeans rumpled on his slender frame. "Could…could you just hold me, please?" he said, still not daring to open his eyes.

Blaine leaned back against the pillows and tugged Kurt down to lie beside him. Kurt huddled into his side, his chin tucked against his shoulder and his arms drawn into his chest. Blaine stroked his hair, slow and gentle and soothing, until he felt Kurt's breathing even out as he fell asleep.

"I love you," he murmured. "I love you so much."

[molliehummel]

One in Four

"Ugh, I'm so glad to be home," Mollie sighed, rubbing her cheek as the truck pulled into the driveway, headlights bouncing off the garage door.

Burt grinned and cut the engine. "I bet Kurt will be excited to see us," he said. "Especially when he sees all the presents we got him."

Mollie laughed as she got out of the car. "You spoil him," she said.

"He's our only kid, Moll, I can't help it," Burt shrugged. "Here, you go on in. I'll get our stuff from the back."

Mollie headed up to the front door, her keys already in her hand. Burt reached into the backseat to get out their suitcases and bags. He was already looking forward to being home, to sitting in his own living room with a game on TV and his son playing on the living room floor and his wife humming as she made dinner in the kitchen. Mollie had really wanted to go on this trip- they'd never gone on a real vacation in the past four years of marriage- and it had been fun to go away for a few weeks, but he had to admit that he belonged in Ohio, in their little yellow house in the suburbs and his respectable blue-collar job. It had been exciting at first to travel around, especially watching how excited his wife got, but he liked his quiet, uneventful life just fine.

He leaned out of the car, Mollie's wheeled suitcase in his hand, to see a tall figure brush past him and get into the sedan parked on the curb. Burt frowned. That had to have been Mollie's old school friend, the one who had offered to babysit Kurt while they were gone. Strange that he didn't wait to say goodbye.

The sedan revved loudly and peeled off down the quiet dark street, and Burt hoisted the luggage up the front walk and into the house. Mollie had already kicked off her shoes and draped her coat over the rack by the door. "That your friend who just left?" Burt asked.

Mollie nodded. "He told me he had somewhere to be, but he said Kurt was absolutely perfect the whole time we were gone," she said. "He even said that he was the best he'd ever had."

Burt dropped the suitcases in the foyer and nudged the door shut with his heel. "Where'd you know him from, again?" he asked.

Mollie pulled the hair tie off her wrist and pulled her long strawberry-blonde girls up in a messy bun. "From college," she said, pulling the elastic tight. "We were in a few classes together. He got his degree in early childhood development. He was the director of a daycare up in West Virginia for a while." She went over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, reaching for the gallon of milk. "Funny, I hadn't seen him for years until I ran into him at that educator's conference in Dayton last month."

"Think he might want to babysit Kurt some other time?" Burt asked.

Mollie shook her head. "He told me he's catching a flight tonight; he's got an interview in the morning at a school in South Carolina," she said. She unscrewed the cap on the milk jug and recoiled. "Ugh, it's spoiled." She turned on the faucet and poured out the sour milk into the steady glug of water. "That's strange. Usually Kurt drinks us out of milk within a few days."

"Your friend probably let him have nothing but soda for two weeks," Burt said.

Mollie rolled her eyes and dropped the empty jug in the recycling bin. "I'm going to go check on him," she said. "Apparently he went to bed at eight and he's been sound asleep since then."

She headed up the stairs to Kurt's bedroom and after a moment, Burt followed her. The door to his room was shut tight, the hand painted sign with his name on it just ever-so-slightly askew. Mollie eased the door open and peeked inside, Burt leaning over his shoulder.

Their four-year-old son was a little lump under a pile of blankets and comforters, the top of his head barely visible. The covers were rumpled, as if he'd been tossing and turning, and his favorite stuffed elephant was abandoned on the floor. Mollie picked it up with a smile, brushing fuzz off of Raleigh's well-loved head, and tugged the blankets back just enough to tuck it under Kurt's arm.

Burt frowned. Kurt's nightlight, the one in the shape of a little rocket, had been unplugged and set on the top of his bookshelf, much too high for a child as small as Kurt to reach. It didn't make sense. Kurt hated sleeping in the pitch-black.

He picked it up, brushing a week's worth of dust off the bulb, and plugged it in, sending a soft soothing glow around Kurt's bedroom. Mollie sat on the edge of his bed, smiling as she smoothed his hair away from his face and watched his slow, steady breaths.

Burt bent to kiss the top of his wife's head. "Let's let him sleep," he whispered.

Mollie smoothed Kurt's covers reluctantly, adjusting his elephant against his cheek and smoothing his blue baby blanket around him, and kissed his round cheek. She paused. "Burt, does he feel warm to you?" she asked.

Burt touched the back of his hand to Kurt's forehead. "No, he's just hot from sleeping under a bunch of blankets," he said. "Come on, let's go to bed."

He got their luggage from downstairs and dragged up to their room. Mollie had already changed into a soft pale blue lace cami and shorts, her waving hair still caught in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, and was humming to herself as she scrubbed her face clean at the bathroom sink. Burt grinned and sat down on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off.

Mollie had just rinsed off her toothbrush and dropped it in the holder on the side of the sink when they heard it. Burt's blood ran cold. "Why is Kurt-" he started to say, but Mollie had already slammed the door open and was running down the hall.

Kurt screamed at the top of his lungs, high-pitched and uncontrolled. Burt followed his wife down the hall and hit the lights in Kurt's bedroom. His little son was thrashing back and forth on the bed, kicking his legs wildly. His ankle caught the cord of his bedside lamp and pulled it to the floor, shattering it into a dozen jagged-edge pieces.

"Hey, hey, Kurt, calm down," Burt said, reaching out a hand to steady his little boy. Kurt's eyes flew open as Burt touched his back and his terrified scream spiraled higher; he slapped at Burt's arm wildly and bit down hard on his wrist.

Burt recoiled sharply as Mollie pushed past him and tried to calm Kurt down. "Baby, it's okay," she called over his shrieking. "Baby, it's me. It's Mama."

Kurt still screamed in terror, his face turning blue from effort and lack of oxygen. Mollie climbed onto the bed beside Kurt and leaned over him, stroking his hair desperately. "Wake up, sweetheart, wake up," she begged. "It's okay. It's just a bad dream. Mama's here. Mama will make it okay."

Kurt's unfocused eyes faded into blue and he gazed blearily up at her, his scream pausing for a split second. Mollie smiled encouragingly at him, still smoothing his hair and resting her hand against his heaving little chest. "It's Mama, precious," she said. "Just Mama and Daddy."

Kurt bolted upright, his shrieking turning to hysterical sobs in a flash. He threw himself into Mollie's arms, crawling onto her lap and locking his arms around her neck in a death grip as if he could save himself if he only held on tightly enough. Mollie held him close and rocked him gently, tucking her hand up the hem of his shirt to stroke the soft skin of his bare back.

"Mama's here," she singsonged in a hushed sweet voice. "Mama's here. Mama will make all the bad things go away. The bad dream's over. It was just a dream, honey. Just a dream."

Burt stood a little ways back, still frozen in shock and horror. The marks where his son's sharp little teeth had sunk into his wrist oozed blood sluggishly, garishly red against his tough skin. He watched in a daze as Mollie rocked their son in her arms like a baby, draping his blanket around him and tucking his elephant in his arms to soothe him. Kurt's sobs turned harsh and rasping as he wore himself out, until he was hiccupping into his mother's neck, his small knuckles still stark white as he gripped onto the thin silky fabric of her pajamas.

"Do you want to come sleep in Mommy and Daddy's room tonight?" Mollie said. Burt saw his son nod vigorously, clinging to her desperately with his face hidden in her shoulder. Mollie lifted him in her arms, pressing kisses to his cheeks and nose and forehead.

She moved past Burt without noticing him, her eyes only on her frightened child. "You're safe, baby," she crooned as she carried him down the hall. Burt watched her walk away from him, her slim bare feet sinking into the soft pile of the carpet and the hallways lights gleaming in her curling hair. "You're safe, Kurt. As long as Mama's here you're safe. Nothing can ever hurt you when Mama's with you. I won't let anything hurt you."

Burt saw her carry Kurt into their room and set the child carefully down on the bed before crawling beside him, pulling the blankets over them both as he huddled in the safety of her side, and a strange sick feeling of foreboding made the pit of his stomach sink.

Kurt had never acted like this, even in the worst throes of a nightmare. Kurt had never been so violent. Kurt had never screamed till his face turned blue, not even as a colicky baby.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Special thanks to SwingGirlatHeart for letting me borrow her verse.

[molliehummel]

Francey Babysits Little Klaine

"Francey, Blaine, this is Miss Mollie," Hannha said. "She's going to be your new piano teacher."

Francey looked Miss Mollie up and down, sizing her up. She was very pretty, with strawberry blonde curls and lovely blue eyes. "I like your dress," she announced.

"Thank you," Miss Mollie said. "I like yours too."

"Francey is nine and Blaine is six," Hannah said. "We've tried putting Francey in piano lessons before, but she's a little…stubborn. She might prove to be difficult."

"Daddy says I'm defiant," Francey added cheerfully.

Miss Mollie laughed. "Oh, I'm used to stubborn," she said. "I have a very willful little boy myself. He's the same age as you, Blaine. He'll be six in April."

Blaine pouted. "I'm already six," he said. "So I'm older."

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," Miss Mollie said. "Kurt's a little younger than you." She glanced over her shoulder. "Kurt? Can you say hi?"

"No."

"He's a little shy around new people," Miss Mollie said. "Kurt, honey, wouldn't you like to meet Blaine and Francey?"

"No."

Blaine edged a little closer. "Do you like Power Rangers?" he asked.

A very small boy peeked around Miss Mollie, his blue eyes- just like his mother's- very round. "I like the red one," he said shyly.

"I have the red one!" Blaine said. He held out his hand. "Wanna play?"

The blue-eyed boy disappeared behind his mother. Miss Mollie sighed and picked him up; he promptly hid in the crook of her neck and pulled her long hair over his face like a curtain. "Sorry, he's just shy," she apologized. She jostled him lightly. "Kurt, wouldn't you like to play with Blaine?"

Blaine tugged on one of Kurt's shoelaces. "Please?" he said hopefully. "I've got lots of Power Rangers. And Ninja Turtles. And Francey's got a lot of My Little Ponies."

Kurt peeked out from the safety of his mother's shoulder. "I want the red ranger, and the blue turtle, and Pinkie Pie," he said, frowning.

"Okay!" Blaine said. Kurt shimmied out of his mother's arms, grabbed Blaine's hand, and the two little boys went running for the playroom.

"Thank goodness," Mollie sighed. "He's supposed to start first grade in the fall, but he's still so deep in the 'I need my mommy around at all times' phase."

"Oh, he'll outgrow it, and then you'll miss it,"Hannah  said. She smoothed Francey's dark curls. "Francey, honey lamb, can you watch the boys in the playroom while Miss Mollie and I have coffee?"

Francey brightened. "I get to be the babysitter?" she said. "I get to be the boss?"

"Yes, but don't make Blaine fold all your socks again," Lilah warned.

"I won't," Francey called, already running pell-mell up the stairs. She burst into the messy playroom. "I get to be the boss!"

The two little boys ignored her, already deeply enthralled in their play. The Power Rangers were riding the My Little Ponies into battle against the evil Ninja Turtles.

"I'm going to watch Alice in Wonderland!" Francey said.

No reaction. She grinned- Blaine was terrified of the Queen of Hearts and she never got to watch it. But if Blaine was distracted by playing with his new little bestie, then she could totally watch it without having to deal with a sobbing little brother.

She plopped down on the old couch as the movie started playing. The little boys ran around her shrieking and shouting; she tossed a pillow at Blaine, who kept playing without noticing her. She draped her legs over the side of the couch and settled down to watch the movie.

She had just gotten to the Garden of Live Flowers scene when she realized that the two little ones had paused to watch the movie. "I don't like this one," Blaine said, fidgeting anxiously. "Franney, turn it off."

"Nope, I'm the sitter and I'll watch what I want," Francey said.

"Franney, I don't like it!" Blaine whined.

"I like Alice," Kurt said. He climbed up on the couch and plopped down in the corner, then patted the spot beside him. "C'mon."

Blaine dutifully crawled up beside him. Francey stared at him. Usually Blaine would be a sobbing mess at this point, hollering about how he was going to tell on her. But he just sat meekly next to Kurt.

When the Queen of Hearts arrived on the screen, Francey snuck a peek at the little boys. Blaine was huddled up close to Kurt, his knees drawn to his chest. Kurt had his thumb in his mouth. But most miraculous of all…no tears from Blaine.

She sat up, frowning, and realized that the two little boys were holding hands. Kurt pulled his thumb out of his mouth. "See? It's just a movie," he whispered to Blaine. "It's not scary."

Blaine nodded and cuddled closer to Kurt's side. Kurt stuck his thumb back in his mouth and snuggled his cheek against Blaine's shoulder.

Francey grinned. Now I can watch Alice in Wonderland whenever I want, she thought. Now…I need to get Kurt to come over the next time I want to watch The Goonies. Blaine's got to stop crying every time he sees a skeleton.

[molliehummel]

Fairy Tales

"…and so the prince took Cinderella back to his castle and they lived happily ever after," Mollie read. "The end." She brushed an airy kiss on the top of her six-year-old son's head, his soft hair still damp from his bedtime bath. He nestled closer, wiggling his little toes in his blue footie pajamas. "And now it's time for little boys to be in bed."

She closed the book and hugged Kurt tightly. Kurt frowned and wriggled out of her grip. "Wait, wait. Then what, Mommy?" he asked.

"Then what what?" she asked.

Kurt sat down facing her, his small hands holding onto his blanket. "Then what?" he repeated. "What happened after they went to the castle?"

Mollie blinked. "They got married, I suppose," she said.

"Then what?" he pressed.

"Well, I don't know, Kurt, maybe they-"

"Did Cinderella go to college?" he inquired.

"Well, she-"

"What did her wedding dress look like?"

"Probably-"

"Did they have babies? Did they get a puppy? Did the stepsisters ever come to visit? What about the stepmother? Did they-"

Mollie covered Kurt's little mouth with her fingertips. "Hold on, chatterbox," she smiled. She gathered him up and set him on her knees facing her. "Cinderella went to college and got with a degree in textile merchandising, and waited to marry the prince until after she graduated because that is entirely more practical than getting married during school. They had a small but very pretty wedding, and Cinderella had a white lace dress but no glass slippers, because Prince Charming accidentally knocked one of them over and broke it. Then they moved into a very nice starter castle and adopted a puppy from the shelter."

"What did they-" Kurt began.

"They named him…um, Spot," Mollie interrupted. "And then they had three children, two boys and a girl, and the prince became the king after his father died and Cinderella ruled with him as his queen and they raised their children to be smart and kind and polite, and to always eat their vegetables at dinner."

Kurt, who had been caught hiding green beans under his napkin that very night, squirmed sheepishly.

"The stepmother and stepsisters were invited to visit, but they were too embarrassed after how they treated Cinderella so they moved to…Las Vegas and were never heard from again," Mollie finished. "There. Does that answer all of your questions?"

"For now," Kurt said. He snuggled closer and rested his head on her shoulder. "Will you read me Sleeping Beauty tomorrow night please?"

"I'll let your daddy read to you tomorrow," she grinned, rubbing his back.