Disclaimer: Glee does not belong to me whatsoever. It belongs to Ryan Murphy...all those awesome people :D
Any grammatical mistakes, if present, are mine. Please read and review :D
"Fine," Kurt huffs and rises from the unnecessarily spacious bed. "If you're not going to listen to me and no doubt keep on looking for sexual distractions, I'm going downstairs with the baby. I expect she'll be bursting into tears for her Papa any time now, either way."
Sure enough, Kurt has no sooner shut the mahogany door when several meek and yet hysterical squealing-squeaks carry from the adjacent room. Moments later, the irregular, shallow, muffled padding of his little light-footer sounds on her dizzying descent down the big, scary stairs.
It took moments like these for Puck to remember that he was a Dad. Not a biological father, but little, two year-old Isla-Janelle belonged to him. Belonged to him and Kurt. That soft padding was the most beautiful music to his ears; he had once been told that you could only truly appreciate, experience music when you are making it yourself. But since Kurt and Isla-Janelle had become a part of his life, he'd known that this was sorely wrong.
Music and beauty for him combined in a blissful, blended abyss of visions, flickers of sounds, snippets of laughter, photographs, moments that he'd opened up his eyes and his prejudiced heart to feel.
The most beautiful music of all is made by the ones you love.