What's this? Two fics in under a week? What is this madness?
(Honestly I've had this sitting unfinished on my computer for ages and I just needed to get it done because once I finished Trials and Tribulations of Potty Training this one kept nagging me. Just like the third chapter of Save You, which I promise to work on next.)
So this as well is fluff with some Kurt!Angst/stress and adorable daddy time. Nothing bad, I promise.
Neither Kurt nor Blaine belong to me; I just like to play with them. Natalie, though, is all mine.
Kurt was ready to pull his hair out and throw things, and it wasn't even ten o'clock on a Monday morning.
His catalogue spread had to be emailed to the publisher in the next four hours, but half of the looks were wrong. He'd told his dressers exactly how to assemble the outfits over a week ago, even providing sketches and photos of his last fittings before Friday's photo shoot. He had trusted Alana with the shoot so he could actually make it to his dad's for dinner with his family for the first Friday in two months. Somehow, though, she managed to mess it up even with his strict instructions.
Oh, how he regretted hiring that scatterbrained photographer. Who did she think she was, telling the models to swap pieces?
Just the past hour and a half of running and organizing and reprimanding had left his once typically impeccable ensemble quite uncharacteristically disheveled. His charcoal vest was draped over the back of his desk chair. A red McQueen scarf peeked out of the bottom drawer. At some point his black Oxford had come loose from where it had been tucked into his ink-colored skinny jeans. The laces of his favorite Doc Martens boots – white with black detail – had loosened so many times that he'd run a large safety pin through them to hold the tie. His Chanel jacket hung neatly from the coatrack in the corner; he'd managed to gingerly place it there before he sat down to discover the hell that had descended on his company.
His employees knew that with every new collection emerged a rumpled Kurt Hummel-Anderson running to perfect the production of his already flawless ideas, but they had never seen him this frazzled. He loved his staff, but with his growing company and his favorite photographer home sick, he'd been forced to hire someone freelance on short notice with only a shaky recommendation to guide him. Nope, never again. He'd spread the word and ruin Alana's reputation once he sorted out the mess she made. If he had the energy or brainpower left over.
Back and forth Kurt ran between his office, the sewing room, the printer, and the photo studio, sure to set his best people to the tasks at hand. Remi, his fabulous assistant and coordinator, shadowed him, sure to keep an equal watch on each location to be sure everything was done right. She'd followed him from college as he build his brand from the ground up, and had been his first employee – and they'd done it all together. Now that they had others helping, wasn't it supposed to be a bit easier on them?
Apparently not. Because people were incompetent.
Poor Kurt.
The distressed designer was sure to do a final check of each look before he sent the models to the photographer and ran back to his office for the next set of notes, and Remi knew without his asking to keep an eye on the shots taken. Just to be sure it was finally done right. She chose a couple photos from the 20 taken of each and zipped them off to the head graphic designer, Melanie, to put together the catalogue. This season they'd just have to go simple, minimalistic, black and white with a touch of gray. Maybe it would work to their advantage, keeping the spring catalogue basic to highlight the bright colors. It was just a shame to scrap the detail they put into the romantic sets for the original shoot.
By three in the afternoon Kurt had consumed exactly one and a half cups of coffee and barely half a scone, but his catalogue was finished with an hour to spare. He looked it over with Remi and Mel one last time, standing behind their swivel chairs at the large Mac at Mel's desk.
Kurt stared intently at the fourteen-page spread, drummed his fingers beside Mel's mouse. "Fine. Done. Send." His tone was clipped, ragged, exhausted.
Remi turned to look up at him, confused. He didn't sound thrilled, yet he was sending it anyway? He never sent work he was absolutely proud of. Ever. "But, are you sure? We can color and tweak it and just send it tomor–"
"Yes. Send." He straightened up, voice stronger, his message ringing clear.
Mel shot a look at the designer. His jaw was set; his expression finally returned to the calm she hadn't seen since before he sat at his desk that morning. She bit her lip and crossed her legs with a nod as she opened a blank email and began typing.
"It's a bit plain, and our sets –"
"Can be used later. This catalogue is better simple, monochromatic, neutral. Look at how brightly the colors shine against – Mel, pull up a photo of that dress on page three from that bitch's wreck of a shoot yesterday."
She scoffed and minimized the email window and did as he instructed, placing it beside the shot taken that morning. The photo used had been the fifth taken of that particular look, the first look done that morning. It had been his favorite from the start, and the new photo showed it off flawlessly. The top was a strapless bright blue corset with a navy lace overlay at the top of the bust. The corset met in a vee at hip level, where a full skirt of layered organza bloomed and flowed freely to just below the knee, navy fading back to the bright blue at the hem. The model stood facing forward, the toe of one navy lace-up gladiator-style stiletto extending a bit back and to the left, arms arced gracefully with her fingertips just about to touch. Her head was turned to the left so her chestnut hair could tumble in waves over her right shoulder. Her makeup was simple, light, and neutral – pale pink blush dusting her cheekbones, lipstick in a slightly darker tone, and a simple line of black eyeliner sweeping along her long lashes. She looked like a ballerina simply by wearing his masterpiece, and the soft pale gray backdrop strengthened the colors, the look, the mood.
The old shot didn't even compare. The model stood in what could only be described as a warrior's pose, arms tensed, scowling at something unseen to the right of the camera. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that hung pin-straight behind her and she wore heavy knee-high black boots. Bright orange streaks smudged across her cheekbones paired with thick-lashed smoky eyes and a dark burgundy lip. Worst of all, she had been placed in a garden before a delicate white wrought-iron table and chairs with rose petals fluttering on the ground.
It was possibly the worst shot they had ever seen. Especially of those taken of Kurt's work. Instantly Remi understood his choice for a simple catalogue.
"Okay," she consented with a nod. "Yes, you're right. Done."
Mel glanced over her shoulder at her boss as she flipped back to the email and jotted a quick message to the publisher. Kurt walked away before the little bell sounded to signify that the message had been sent.
Back in his office, Kurt slumped into his chair and took a deep breath. He had nearly done the impossible, much to even his own surprise. But Kurt was nothing if not dedicated and punctual. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his deflated coif, spying his forgotten coffee on his desk beside a photo from over the summer. A simple black frame housed the image of Blaine lying on a picnic blanket with Natalie sprawled across his stomach, both grinning widely and eyes shining in the sunshine.
His family.
He had had enough of the office. The catalogue was finished; he could wait a day to tackle the next collection.
Kurt hastily scooped up his discarded vest, not bothering to button it or even fix his shirt before sliding into his coat. He nearly forgot about his scarf in the bottom drawer, only noticing it when he shut down his desktop. Sketchbooks and folders swept into his large leather satchel and camera slid into place beside them, he flicked the lights off and pulled the door shut behind himself.
"Taking tomorrow off, Remi," he called as he walked briskly past her desk. "See you Wednesday."
Startled from the distribution figures she was calculating, she looked up in time to catch his wave as his scarf blew behind him. "Oh, uh, okay. See you."
Kurt stepped outside and fished out his phone and keys.
Back at home, Blaine was fiddling with the piano, trying to grasp a melody nagging at the back of his mind. Suddenly Natalie sprang from her seat at the coffee table in the center of the living room. She bolted towards him excitedly, bouncing when she reached his side.
"Daddy, lookie what I colored!" She squealed and he lifted her onto his lap, grinning.
"Ooh, lemme see!" He surveyed her work and pursed his lips. "Ahh, very nice use of color here, Nat-nat. The red and yellow go quite well mixed like this, and the purple tree is quite surreal."
She giggled, breaking his art aficionado act and leading him to laugh as well.
"That's not a tree, Daddy! That's a dwess, like Papa does! His pi'tures are so much pwettier…" She deflates slightly, glancing down at her work as her tiny lower lip juts out.
"Oh, hush, honeybee," he coos, kissing the top of her curly head. "Your drawings are beautiful, and they can only get better. Papa had a lot of time to practice, and he had good teachers to help him. You can take classes and get to be just as good as him. Okay? I love your fashion show drawing, sweetie. It does look just like a show Papa worked, and –"
His phone buzzed atop the piano and lit up, showing a tiny image of Kurt's smiling face above the notification for a new text. He grinned brightly.
"Look, honey! It's from Papa!"
"Ooh lemme see I wanna see!" She bounced and took the phone from him, but frowned at the screen when she realized it was just a quickly darkening picture. She held it up to Blaine in a silent demand that he do something so it made sense. He chuckled at the determined set of her jaw and tiny puckered brow, so much like Kurt's it was a bit scary.
"Okay, okay, let me have it." Blaine stared adoringly at the little contact label that appeared under the picture. His husband had set up the phone when he had finally been forced to replace his old one – the touchscreen snapped and crumbled under his fingers right before Christmas a few years ago – transferring his contacts from the online backup. He'd saved Kurt's number that way while feeling particularly elated the day they'd exchanged those three little words in high school. Even after Kurt saw it and mocked him fondly for being such an adorable dork he just couldn't change it.
Natalie stared at her father, confused, and patted his forearm. Surprised, he turned and stuck his tongue out at her as he slid his thumb across the screen to unlock it. The message opened automatically.
From: Kuuuurt 3
Day from hell. I am a damn miracle worker. Coming home and taking tomorrow off.
xo
Blaine's grin grew impossibly wider, and Natalie gave a small, confused smile in return.
"What, daddy?"
"Well, Nat-nat, Papa says he's on his way home."
"Weally?" She straightened up excitedly. "But it's not dinne'time yet!"
"I know. He left early because he had a really hard day. And guess what else?"
"What what what?" She slapped her tiny hands on his forearm and bounced, wide-eyed and grinning.
"We're going to make dinner to surprise him! His favorite!" He decided to let Kurt surprise her with his day off. "How does that sound?"
She squealed, "Yay! Cookin'!" Scrambling off his lap and ran into the kitchen. He heard her rummaging through a cupboard for a minute before she returned with a small pink apron hanging from her neck and a larger navy one in her hands.
Blaine laughed and scooped her up, carried her into the kitchen and stood her on a chair. He tied her apron around her waist before donning his own and put his hands on his hips.
"Aprons, check!"
Natalie giggled and gave her dad a thumbs-up with a wide smile.
"Now, my little su-chef. What are we making for Papa tonight?"
"Pasgetti with sauce and cheese!"
Blaine laughed again as his toddler threw her arms in the air. "Sounds perfect. Can we make salad too?"
She scrunched her nose in thought. "Only if I get cookies too."
"Done. Sauce?"
"Gween one!"
"You mean pesto?"
"Is it gween?" She cocked her head, a bit confused.
"Yep, with little pine nuts."
Natalie straightened, face lighting up. "Yeah! That stuff!"
"Great," Blaine grinned at her. "Now let's get started!"
He held her on his hip as he went around the kitchen, collecting various ingredients and utensils – and even stopped to put on some soft music. He sat her on a barstool at the island and set a pot of water to boil on the stove. Natalie watched her father with amazement as he prepared the sauce ingredients, buzzing in excitement for being able to pour each one into the large bowl of the food processor.
"Okay, Nat-nat, push that big button over there, and I'll tell you when to let go. Ready?"
She nodded enthusiastically, adorable grin still on her lips. Then she pressed down on the button allowing the machine to suddenly whir to life.
"And…stop!"
She lifted her hand immediately, looking to her father for approval and gaining a kiss on top of her head. She helped him transfer the mixture into another bowl to add the cheese and oil and stirred carefully as he turned off the stove and strained the spaghetti in the sink.
Blaine came over to her, set a large plate on the counter and dipped a finger into the mixture. Natalie's brow furrowed, but he had closed his eyes and hummed. "Wow, delicious. Great job, honey. I'm so proud of you, and Papa is going to love it."
The toddler just beamed up at him, eyes crinkled like Kurt's.
Kurt! Blaine checked the clock on the microwave. His husband should be home any minute.
"Now, sweetheart, Papa's going to be home very soon. How about you set the table while I make the salad and finish with the pasta?"
"Okay, Daddy." She twisted around on the stool and obviously planned to jump down; Blaine lifted her in time and set her on her feet. He handed her plates from the cabinet, reminding her to be careful with them, and placed utensils on the counter for her to take. He collected lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers from the fridge for the salad.
Three minutes later – just on time, really – Blaine was placing the now-finished salad on the table when he heard the front door open. Natalie's face lit up; she turned to face the sound and wiped her wet hands hastily on the apron she then scrambled to untie from around her waist.
"Honey, I'm home! And oh my gosh what smells amazing?" Kurt froze in the front hall and tilted his nose into the air to inhale deeply and let his heavy satchel fall limply to the floor.
Before he could even guess what that delicious aroma was or how fattening it could be (not that he cared because he'd had the most stressful day and screw it he was starving) Natalie came running from the kitchen.
"Papa!" She squealed and latched onto his legs.
"Hi there, honeybee." He tapped her shoulder and she let go, knowing he would bend down to scoop her into his arms. She kissed his cheek and nuzzled into his neck as he hugged her tightly. He closed his eyes, reveling in the moment, so he missed Blaine's head poking through the doorway to smile fondly.
Back in the kitchen Blaine poured the sauce artfully over the platter of pasta. He heard Kurt ask Natalie where he was and what was going on to which she giggled and squealed that it was a surprise, accompanied by slow footsteps towards the kitchen. He took a bottle of wine from the fridge and set it on the table just in time to see Kurt's face as he stopped to gape in the doorway. Natalie giggled again and patted Kurt's cheek.
"H-how, what's all – huh?"
Blaine laughed at how adorably and unusually flustered Kurt was. He took Natalie from his husband, watching his expression shift from confused shock to fond understanding and finally grateful adoration at the beautiful scene before him. He turned watery eyes to Blaine and gave a small smile, expressing everything he couldn't and didn't need to say. Blaine just grinned back and nodded once, and set Natalie on her feet so she could climb into her chair.
Neither of them moved for a minute, staring into each other's eyes. Only their daughter's impatient sigh broke them from the trance, and Kurt nearly lunged into Blaine's suddenly outstretched arms and sagged into his embrace. Blaine kissed the side of Kurt's neck and moved to wrap an arm around Kurt's shoulders to lead him to his usual seat at the table.
"This is…wow, this is beautiful," Kurt whispered, gaze circling the table and landing on his husband now standing behind their daughter.
"I helped," Natalie piped up and flashed a grin up at Blaine.
He smoothed her hair. "Yes, she did. She's a great su-chef."
"And you did this all…?"
"The minute I got your text." Blaine smiled. "And don't worry, it's all fresh, the spaghetti is whole wheat, and the cheese is low-fat."
"You are perfect," Kurt sighed. "Both of you."
"And hungwy," Natalie grumbled, eliciting a laugh from her fathers. "Hey, cookin' is hard work!"
"Yes it is. Thank you for cooking, really. I can't believe that you two surprised me with this. It looks absolutely delicious."
Blaine took the long way around the table to his seat, pausing beside Kurt and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Well, I figured today was as good as any."
"Thank you," Kurt whispered. Blaine just nodded and bent to kiss him chastely, gentle but full of love.
Natalie threw her arms in the air, fork already in her hand. "Now let's eat!"
A few hours later, after watching Disney's Atlantis and putting Natalie to bed, Kurt and Blaine were in the kitchen cleaning up.
Well, Kurt was loading the dishwasher and bumping Blaine away with his hip every time he came close, telling him to stop helping because Blaine cooked a beautiful dinner and it was only fair that Kurt cleared it away and washed the gunk out of the food processor, but he could he bring the cookie plate and empty glasses from the living room if he just had to do something?
So Blaine sighed and grabbed the dirty dishes from the other room. He bent to put them in the dishwasher, and when he stood Kurt wound his arms around his waist and kissed the back of his neck.
"You really are perfect." Just a whisper against skin, soft breath rustling dark curls.
Blaine turned in Kurt's arms and kissed him.
"I love you too."
I love you all. Reviews are like coffee.