Day one: Audience


The screech of one of Kurt's thrifted dining room chair scraping against the floor made him jerk his head up from where he was bent over his work at the kitchen table.

He found the moving chair instantly, following the high back as it slowly moved past his seat, but had to take a moment to spy the tiny dark head just peeking out over the table's edge.

"Rosa, honey," he started, watching his child drag the chair to the middle of the room. He winced as the feet caught the edges of the tiles. If she chips those legs after I just refinished– "Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

She didn't answer him, continuing determinedly to center the chair in the open floor space of their kitchen, panting a little with the effort of hauling such a heavy thing. Kurt didn't offer to help her, watching in bewildered amusement from the table.

When she seemed to be satisfied with the location, she climbed up to stand on the chair.

Kurt started to move. "Oh, no, Rosa, honey, please get–"

"PAPA!"

Kurt winced, sitting back in his chair and clapping a hand over his ear at the volume. She was only four years old but she knew how to project her voice, that was for sure.

Kurt heard crashing and his bedroom door slam open as Blaine came scrambling into the kitchen, looking frantic.

"What is it, baby? What's up? Where's Daddy?"

"Daddy's right here," Kurt said, reaching up to grab Blaine's arm, soothingly.

Blaine reached with his other arm to grip Kurt's hand, breathing out in relief.

He leaned into Kurt, resting his arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Oh, Rosa, honey, you scared me."

Rosa fidgeted where she stood on the chair. "Sorry, Papa. Please sit next t' Daddy. I need a audience."

Kurt snorted softly into his hand and Blaine shushed him, letting his arm drop as he pulled a chair toward him. His chair does not scrape the tile.

"Where's your brother?" Blaine asks her, resting his hand on Kurt's knee. "Don't you want him in the audience?"

Rosa nods frantically, her eyes going wide.

Kurt winces, "Please don't–"

"CIAN!"

Kurt sighed. Blaine whispered, "Sorry." and kissed his cheek. Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine's shoulders and Blaine settled happily into his side.

Their six-year-old's door didn't slam open, proving immediately that he was better trained than his Papa. He peeked into the kitchen, shyly, but glared at his sister. "What?"

Blaine patted his lap. "Come on, bud, your sister needs an audience."

Cian scowled but shuffled over to where his parents were sitting, allowing Blaine to pick him up and settle him on his knee.

Blaine bounced him a little until he smiled, and then gestured to Rosa. "The floor is yours, my lady."

Rosa sucked her lips into her mouth, probably trying not to giggle that Blaine called her a lady. She looked like she was trying to stay serious.

Kurt hid his smile behind his hand.

"Daddy. Papa. Cian." Rosa said, putting her hands behind her back and rocking on her feet. Kurt leaned forward, reflexively, to catch her, josling his husband and son. "I'm gonna be a artitect."

Blaine grabbed Cian around the middle as Cian groaned. He said, "Oh, Rosa, honey, that's great!"

"That's stupid."

"Cian!" Kurt scolded.

Rosa stamped her foot, making the chair wobble.

"Okay, baby, why don't we get off the chair." Rosa looked at the floor, nervously. Kurt sighed. "Blaine?"

"Yeah." Blaine stood up, transferring their son from his lap to Kurt's before going to fetch their daughter from her chair island.

He settled her on his lap across the table from Kurt and Cian.

Kurt bounced Cian on his knee, hands on his shoulders. When they were in high school, they liked the idea of doing what Rachel's dads did: mixing their sperm so they wouldn't know who their child's biological father was. But when Rachel volunteered to be their surrogate and egg donor, Blaine insisted they use Kurt's. Rachel already kind of looked like Blaine, so this way the baby could look a little like both of them.

So here was Cian, with his blue eyes and curly dark hair. Nose like his mother, but Irish name for his Papa.

And his Daddy's attitude.

"Cian, sweetheart, what do you say to your sister?"

He pouted while he bounced, trying very hard to remain grumpy.

"Sorry, Rosa." He grumbled. He turned in Kurt's lap. "But daddy, it is stupid."

Blaine made a disapproving noise in his throat. Rosa sniffed.

Kurt tapped Cian's nose. "You know we don't use that word."

Cian crossed his eyes to look at his nose where Kurt booped it, releasing a noisy breath through his nostrils. "But it is. She can't even say it right! She doesn't know what being an ar-ki-tect is."

"Do too!" Rosa protested, leaning the entire upper half of her body over the table. Blaine held her tight at the waist. "They do buildings! And bidges!"

"Bridges," Blaine corrected gently, kissing her head."

"Yeah!" Rosa crossed her arms, throwing her torso backwards onto Blaine in a pout, knocking the air out of him.

Kurt had to hide his smile again.

"You, see, Cian. Your sister wants to be an architect. She knows all about it."

Cian, humphed, mirroring Rosa by crossing his arms and forcefully leaning back on Kurt.

Kurt kissed his head.

Blaine took a deep break, purposefully making his chest move to make Rosa giggle. "Well, I for one am very excited to see buildings designed by the famous Rosa Benita Hummel-Anderson."

Rosa turned on Blaine's lap, her tiny forehead scrunched in confusion. "What did you call me, Papa?"

Blaine startled, mirroring his daughter's furrowed brow.

Rosa was adopted. She'd been with their family for a couple of years now and didn't remember much of the Cuban family she'd come from. But they kept her name and had several books and movies on hand for when she got a little older if she was curious about where she'd come from.

This looked like the first time she recognized a difference between she and her brother. Kurt tensed.

"That's your name, angel. Rosa Benita Hummel-Anderson. Just like your brother is Cian Everett Hummel-Anderson." Kurt squeezed Cian for good measure.

Rosa still looked confused. "But my name is Rosa-honey."

Blaine punched out a surprised laugh, rocking them both on the chair. "What?"

"You and Daddy call me Rosa-honey. That's not my name?"

Kurt buried his face in Cian's neck to hide his snorting. Cian jerked away, probably because Kurt was tickling him.

"No, s–" Kurt squeezed him. "Sister." Kurt ran a hand through his hair in approval. "Honey is a nickname. Like buddy or sweetheart or angel. They call me honey, too."

Rosa nodded, pouting.

"Oh, honey, are you disappointed?" Rosa shook her head, still pouting. "Oh, Rosa." Blaine scooped her up, swinging her into the air and spinning. "Rosa Rosa Rosa Rosa Rosa!"

She was giggling again, disaster avoided. That is until Cian jumped off of Kurt's lap and started tugging on Blaine's pant leg, almost causing Blaine to trip over him. "Papa! Papa! I'm sad about not being honey, too!"

Blaine laughed, passing Rosa to Kurt so he could swing Cian around.

Kurt nuzzled his daughter, blowing raspberries into her neck until she was screaming with giggles again.

"So do you feel better, Rosa Benita?"

She giggled. "Yeah. Thank you, Daddy honey."