A/N: Hey guys, this is my first fic since 2008, so it's been a while - try not to be too hard on me! Seeing as Blaine/Darren is a life ruiner, it made sense to me that Blaine could very easily be a homewrecker. Remember this is kind of AU, so I apologise if any characters are a little OOC. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Humble Neighbourhood

Brightgate. Each hedge trimmed to perfection; each blade of grass lush and green and no longer than three inches tall; each pastel house painted the most charming colour: sea-foam green, dirty flesh, butter, or (My personal favourite) dirty blue. The fences are white and sharp. The children are quiet and well behaved. This is Brightgate. This is my home. I knew it would be from the moment I saw that very pastel advert spread out in Midwest Monthly. Brightgate: The perfect town for the perfect couple.

Adam proposed last Christmas. Cliché, I know, but he's cute so I let it slide. And who could say no to that accent? Not me. It still sends shivers down my spine. We're expecting, too. Well, not expecting per say; we're looking into our options and we think we're going to go forward with adoption. It's a big step, but Adam thinks we're ready for it. Me? I love kids and I love Adam so it must be right, right?

But still, there are some niggling doubts about the whole married with 2.5 kids thing. Part of my brain is screaming: Are you crazy? You want to tie yourself down? Really, Kurt? You want to be with one person forever? And with a kid? When will you ever have time for fun again? What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? But then I take a deep, soothing breath and think: Who am I kidding? Look at that hair. Listen to his voice. See the love in his eyes. Yes, this is right, surely. I'm just being silly. I have the ideal life.

"Kurt, dear?"

"Yes?"

"Come and eat, you've been staring out of that window for a while now."

"Can't a man look out of his own window?" I jest with a wink.

"I just want you to eat. You haven't been eating right recently, Kurt. It's worrying me," Adam's face contorts into a pout and I roll my eyes - just a tad.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll eat, see," I walk from the window to the kitchen island, my feet tip-tapping melodically on the hardwood floor, and take a seat opposite him. Picking up my fork I take a stab at the slightly singed bacon presented on the plate before me, "Mmm. Taste's good, honey."

"Don't lie to me Kurt, you know it's burnt."

"No, but I like it burnt. It makes it all crispy and gives it that little extra kick," I say between mouthfuls. I'm not lying; I do like it crispy. Maybe not this crispy but I know he tried to get it right.

"Sure," he smiles. He thinks I'm lying but still appreciates my attempt. I watch him eat for a while, his tiny mouth deliberating over every chew, until I lose interest and face the window again. Then, out of nowhere, he whines "Oh, God."

"What? Did you get ketchup over your scarf again?"

"It's not the scarf, it's the rug."

"You got ketchup on the rug?"

"No, no. Just don't you think it looks a bit dirty?"

I take the opportunity for light flirtation, "I don't know about the rug but I know I'm feeling a little dirty."

He doesn't appreciate my attempt, "Kurt I'm very serious about that rug. It was expensive."

"I know it was," the rug is beige and old and I think we got it at a flea market.

"Should we get it dry cleaned?"

"Save the dry cleaning for clothes, dear," I say, but something has caught my eye. A moving van has pulled up outside and out steps a dashing man with dark, seemingly curly hair that has been cemented to his head with product. I can't help but wonder what that hair would look like without so much gel in it. He's smiling at his new home, adjacent to ours, his entire face lit up with delight. I guess he's a fan of pastel. He wears a deep green bowtie; Bowties are cool (Damnit, Adam makes me watch too many of those British sci-fi shows). I sit staring at this elusive new neighbour for a while, half listening to Adam who's still harping on about the dirty rug. It's just a rug, Adam. Jeez. Then he notices that I'm not paying attention to him.

"What are you looking at?"

"What? Nothing. I mean, we have new neighbour I guess. They must have sold the house."

"It was nice of Joanne to tell us."

"I know."

"Bitch." Adam turns to the window, too. We both get up from our seats and move hesitantly toward it as though committing some heinous crime, crouching and peering out as sneakily as is possible while your nose is squished against the glass. "He's cute. Don't get any ideas," Adam winks.

"Are you kidding? You know I love you," I smile and plant a light kiss on his cheek, "Besides, he's probably straight."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, probability?"

"I guess. And you'd definitely jump him if he wasn't, I'm sure."

I decide not to confirm that for him, "Ha, you know my type well. I like 'em cute, like you."

"Nice try," Adam smirks, "Help me clean up?" He stands, stretches and walks back toward the kitchen.

"Sure thing," I say, with one last lingering glance out at the man lifting furniture from the van, the veins in his arms throbbing from the weight of a particularly large armchair. My mind begins to approach dangerous territory and I shake my head in attempt to clear it: No, Adam needs you. So I turn back to the kitchen and pick up my plate, still speckled with discarded strips of bacon, and take it to the sink.

A/N: I know my writing can be very dialogue heavy, I'm trying to remedy that. Anyway, I hope you liked Chapter 1 and are looking forward to Chapter 2 in which Kurt and Blaine meet for the first time! Please review and let me know if I've done anything to offend or delight you. Thanks!