"Hey babe."

Blaine sighed as two large hands wrapped around his waist, gently cradling the swell of his pregnant belly, and pulled him back into the hard, muscle-bound chest. He turned his head to let his husband brush his stubbled chin against his cheek, then press a light kiss to it.

"Hi," he murmured as his husband hooked his chin over his shoulder and breathed into his neck.

"Whatcha doing?" Dave asked quietly. It seemed like that kind of day.

"Thinking," Blaine replied equally softly, leaning back into Dave as his hands came up to rest over his husband's.

"Hmm," Dave hummed pressing a kiss into his neck, as he joined his husband in staring at the little flower garden below.


In a world where people's roles and position in the society was more or less dependent on what was between their legs, Blaine Anderson was one of the rare ones who had the misfortune of being cursed with both.

From the stories he would later hear, his mother had cried when she first saw him. Cooper, his older brother, had been a perfect little boy, the light of his parent's life, and they had been hoping for a cute little girl to complete their picture perfect family. His father had not only refused to hold him, he had even refused to sign his name on the birth-certificate. The only reason Blaine hadn't been abandoned in some orphanage, or worse, thrown into the dumpster like a piece of trash, was his grandmother, who had stared down her son until he reluctantly agreed to take the baby home.

Once his parents got over their initial shock, it didn't take long for them to accept him as their kid. Of course, they would never be as close as they were with Cooper, but Blaine's childhood wasn't bad by any stretch of imagination.

Since the girls and boys aren't allowed to mingle until they're of a marriageable age, and since there were no schools for people like him, Blaine was home-schooled by his mother. Initially his father started trying to steer him towards manlier pursuits like football and camping, but he had given up when Blaine started showing natural propensity towards music and dressing up.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I just want to see my grandson before I die. Is that too much to ask?"

Dave sighed and rubbed a palm over his face. "You're barely 45, mom. You're not dying anytime soon."

"You don't know that!" came the high-pitched voice. "I might get into an accident tomorrow."

Dave rolled his eyes and barely refrained from slamming the phone down. He had come a long way from the angst-ridden short-tempered teenager he was, but his mother could try a Saint's patience. He took a deep breath. "You are NOT dying, mother."

There was blessed silence down the line (Dave briefly wondered if he should cut the call before she had the chance to...) then a sob ('too late') then another, then another... ('Great! Now she was crying')

Dave sank down on the couch and patiently waited for this mother to finish. "Mom," he said once the sobs had slowed down into quiet snuffles. "You can't just..."

"Just come and meet them. You owe me that at least." Evidently his mom still had a few things in her arsenal. "I never ask anything of you, David. Please."

David sighed and hung his head, already hating himself for giving in. "Alright. Fine. Set it up. I will meet them, but I'm not promising anything else."

He could practically see his mother's triumphant grin as she said, "Blaine's a nice guy, David. I know he's the one for you. Mother's inituition."

-x-

David Karofsky, popularly known as 'Dave' or 'Big D' was a former jock-turned-bully-turned-hockey player–turned-sports therapist.

He had been drafted by the Columbus Blues right out of high-school, but a freak accident ended his professional career before it could even start. After a prolonged hospital stay, which ended with a bout of intensive therapy – both physical and psychological – he had decided to return to school, intent on helping others like someone had helped him.

That had been 3 years ago. Now, at 23, Dave Karofsky was a well-settled sports therapist with a steady job, a decent paycheck and a house of his own. 6 months ago he had been hired up as an Asst. Physical Therapist for the AHL team based in Cleveland and, not long after that, his mother had started whining about grandchildren.

Telling his mother he was gay had been as much about getting her off his back, as it had been about Coming Out. All he had wanted was for her to not start every conversation with "I have a friend who has a daughter who is single..." Good thing was, she had stopped setting him up with her friends' daughters; bad thing, she had started looking for a groom for him.

Not that Dave had problem with that. His parents were traditionalists, and he was more than happy to let his mom do all the hard work of finding his partner. She was a good judge of character and he knew she had his best interests at heart.

No, the problem was that he didn't want to settle down just yet. That is, he wasn't even 24 for Christ's sake! And even if most of his high school friends had either gotten married, or were in serious committed relationships, he still wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. He wanted to live his life, sleep around with nameless, faceless strangers, expanding his horizons and getting a taste of freedom, before he found himself tied up in a marriage with some mal-formed guy he didn't even know.

-x-

Of course the life doesn't always turn out the way you want it, especially if your name is David Alan Karofsky, which was how David found himself sitting in a tastefully decorated, immaculate-but-severely-lacking-in-warmth living room, being judged by a tastefully dressed, immaculate-but-severely-lacking-in-warmth lady with a perpetual botox-smile and her tastefully dressed, immaculate-but-severely-lacking-in-warmth husband. Dave was sensing a pattern here.

Dave had no idea how his mother, her own botox-face twisted in a weirdly constipated smile, and his dad, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, had ever thought this would be a good idea. He was all ready to give up and call it day, when... when he walked in.

He being the sexiest fucking thing Dave had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. He was wearing a nice gray suit, the cut and the color flattering his pale complexion and lean body. His fitted trousers gave the impression of being all-legs, even though he didn't seem any taller than Dave. And his face... umpf! That face should have been made a national symbol - carved into mountains, painted into murals, printed on every currency... Dark hair framing the deep-set ocean blue eyes, a chiselled jaw, and a smile that could launch a thousand ships... Dave would gladly fight them all, just to see him smile.

Dave was on his feet even before he realised what he was doing. He walked up to him and extended his arm. "Dave Karofsky," he said with his most flirtatious smile.

He smiled, clasping Dave's hand with his, and Dave's heart stuttered to a stop... "Cooper. Cooper Anderson."

Dave blinked. Cooper? Mom had said his name was Blaine. His confusion must have shown on his face, because the man gave a sardonic smile. "I'm his brother."

"Oh," Dave muttered, dropping the hand and taking a step back. Of course. He had been so enamoured by that pretty face thathe had forgotten that he could see his face. Of course, he wasn't the guy. Dave wished he could slap himself for being such a dumbass. What a great fucking first impression he had made hitting on his future brother-in-law! Well. At least he wouldn't have to worry about breaking his mother's heart.

He turned around, ready to make an apology for the gaffe and get the hell out of dodge, but no one was really looking at him. No. Everyone had their eyes trained on the small figure walking into the room, carefully balancing a large tray laden with tea in his hands.

The boy... and he was a boy, barely 19 years old... was about a head shorter than him, slight with a dainty waist curving out into wider hipbones. He was wearing a form-fitting dark blue kurta with black lining that ended up to his knees and fitted black trousers underneath it. The lower half of his face covered with a delicate veil of the similar color, a mop of dark-coloured curls framing his delicate looking face. He raised his eyes upwards and...

Oh. OH. Dave was gone. There was something in those steel-blue eyes watching him shyly from under the long lashes that tightened the strings in his heart and yanked. Every protest, every complaint he had ever made, every thought of why he didn't want to settle down, they all fizzled up and died. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember why he had fought so hard against this meeting.

"...ave? Dave," Dave tore his eyes away from his future betrothed, to see his mother smiling knowingly back at him. He groaned inwardly. He would have to suffer his mother being obnoxiously smug for the rest of his life.

But, he mused watching his fiancé moving with slow gracefully measured steps, it would totally be worth it.