"I think I can," Blaine coos, rubbing noses with the giggling baby in his arms. He doesn't need the book to read The Little Engine that Could to his daughter anymore. He's read it to her so often, he knows it by heart. "I think I can. I think I can. I know I can. Toot-toot!"
Kurt creeps up to the nursery in socked feet and peeks through the open door. He bites his lower lip, trying hard not to awww as he watches his husband pepper their daughter's cheeks with kisses and zerberts. She squirms, grabbing for Blaine's nose with her chubby hand. He nibbles her hand with lips over teeth, making cartoonish nom-nom noises. She laughs so hard, she kicks her feet, knocking at his chin with her knees. He moves on to a song - an original lullaby he wrote just for their little girl. He begins waltzing around the room with her, swaying smoothly back and forth as her laughter quiets down and her eyelids grow heavy.
Kurt and Blaine try their best to put Tracy down together as often as possible, but they improvise if one of them has to work late, like Kurt did tonight. He has to admit, Blaine is better at this than he is. He knows all the songs by heart, all the finger plays, and he performs all the voices for the stories.
Fatherhood suits Blaine.
Kurt always knew that he himself would make a great father someday, but he also knew he'd need to work at it. He had no younger siblings. He rarely even associated with kids his own age as a child. He considered himself a self-centered teenager, but doesn't a diva have to be? He had never touched a diaper or a bottle before he had a daughter, had no experience caring for anything that couldn't be dry cleaned. The thought of any creature relying on him for everything terrified him. At the beginning of his and Blaine's relationship, he was reluctant to adopt a cat! Blaine had no younger siblings, either, but for him, parenting seems to come naturally. Kurt isn't exactly surprised. Blaine claims that Kurt is the compassionate one in their relationship, but Blaine has always been selfless to a fault.
So pouring endless amounts of love and affection into the care and raising of a helpless human being?
That's right up Blaine's alley.
But what Kurt never realized was how sexy domesticity would look on his husband. Sure, they did their fair share of man-ny roleplaying pre-baby, coupled with some Caregiver/little kink, but this is different. Watching Blaine cuddle their baby, rocking her to sleep in his arms, the patience it takes to accomplish such a feat - his natural ability to nurture comes shining through.
And it's a tremendous turn-on.
Blaine glances up as Tracy blinks her eyes closed. When he sees his husband watching them, he smiles a tired but happy smile.
"Hi," he mouths.
"Hi," Kurt mouths back, tiptoeing into the room as Blaine begins the stressful task of relocating a sleeping five-month-old into her crib, praying she stays asleep for the night. Blaine slides her carefully onto her mattress, then backs away by centimeters the way one might to put distance between themselves and a ticking time bomb. They stand by her crib, peering over the rail, waiting with breath held to see if she'll wake up again. They wait and watch the final eyelid flutters that signal their little girl drifting off to sleep, and after they're both confident she's out (for a few hours at least), they make their way quickly but quietly out of the room.
The second they reach the hallway, Kurt pulls Blaine aside and pushes him up against the wall.
"Kurt …" Blaine yelps as his husband's lips collide with his. "Kurt! What are you …?"
"God!" Kurt moans in whispers, fingers tripping over the buttons of Blaine's shirt on their way to his jeans. "I love watching you put Tracy to bed … singing to her … telling her that stupid train story. It just … it gets me so …"
"Hot?" Blaine finishes with a hiccup because the idea of Kurt getting turned on by watching him put their daughter to bed is so delightfully ludicrous. Blaine isn't doing anything special, anything out of the ordinary when he takes care of their little girl. He's not intentionally trying to turn Kurt on. It's like Kurt saying that he gets turned on by Blaine breathing.
But that's just it. They love each other. And part of that love includes having fun together sexually. They play games, plan evenings in, go to great lengths to seduce one another. And they're compatible in every conceivable way. But ultimately, they fell in love with one another because of who the other person is on the day to day without bells and whistles. There're things Kurt does that have always made Blaine's breathing stutter and his heart speed up. Singing is one. That's a huge one, actually. It's what made Blaine realize how in love he was with Kurt in the first place. Watching Kurt sew or draw or make dinner, the way he scrunches his nose when he succeeds or the way he pouts to himself when things don't go the way he plans. And during those evenings Blaine has watched Kurt put Tracy to bed when he's come home late – the rhymes he recites in French, the fairy tales he makes up on the spot (that Blaine has been trying to get him to write down for ages).
The songs Blaine knows Kurt's mother sang to him when he was a boy. The fact that he remembers them, and the bittersweet tone in his voice, wishing she could be there to see her granddaughter.
Plus, aside from the sentimental stuff, listening to Kurt talk to his brother about oil changes and transmission flushes makes Blaine want to climb him like a tree.
"Kurt? Can't you wait till we get to the bedroom?" Blaine chuckles. "It's only a few feet away."
"No," Kurt says definitively, dropping to his knees, lowering the zip to Blaine's jeans along the way.
"B-but …" Blaine falters when Kurt pulls his jeans down to his knees "… w-we just got Tracy to sleep. I don't … I don't want to wake her."
"Can you stay quiet?" Kurt asks, wicked grin undeniable in his voice. But he doesn't wait for an answer before he wraps his lips around his husband's cock and starts to suck.
"I-I …" Blaine swallows hard, his eyes rolling when the head of his erection hits the back of his husband's throat "… I think I can … I think I can, I think I can …"
