A/N: Special thanks to the incredibly talented purseplayer who not only beta'd this for me but came up with the kickass ending. ;)

Kurt lifted his hand to bring a single finger to his lips, gesturing for quiet. "She's finally settled down," Kurt spoke softly as Blaine stepped through the doorway into the nursery. "Did you bring the book?"

"Yeah, it's right here," Blaine said with a grin, holding the thick, red leather-bound volume of fairy tales up in his hand. He made his way over to the empty chair beside Kurt and the crib and dropped down into it, setting the book in his lap.

"I was thinking we could read 'The Brave Tin Soldier' tonight," Kurt said, looking not at Blaine but at the tiny infant curled up in her bed, dark curls already sprouting from her head and hanging down above her gray eyes, which were now half-open and heavy-lidded with tiredness.

Blaine nodded and flipped open the book, scanning the table of contents before turning to the specified page. It was his turn to read aloud tonight, so he cleared his throat and began softly, soothingly: "Once upon a time..."

Once there was a little tin soldier named Blaine, created just like all the rest, cast from the same mold, and thrust into the world to fulfill his duty. He couldn't know that, while he resembled the others on the surface, wore the same splendid uniform, and carried the same grand rifle, there was something innately different about him. It wasn't until he was standing tall beside his brothers that he noticed it: he stood on only one leg while they all were blessed with two.

"Why was I made so differently?" Blaine wondered. The other tin soldiers in the set would come out of their casing each night to partake in revelry, but when Blaine wanted to join in, they began to tease and taunt him, forcing him to stay inside. Soon, he was made an outcast. One night, despite their teasing, Blaine left the box, desperately wanting to join the regular festivities. But when the others noticed him in their company, they beat him down, and the abuse tore him apart more and more with each passing day.

"I am not a good tin soldier," Blaine would tell himself. "There is no boy who would want to play with a broken toy." For years, Blaine felt slighted because he had been unjustly created with a flaw and left to suffer, and, although he could still stand tall like the others on his single leg, he loathed himself, felt small and insecure, believing that his defect made him worthless.

Everything changed the day Blaine's eyes beheld a magnificent figurine, a dancer sculpted from paper whose outfit was painted a radiant blue. He was breathtaking, perched high up on a shelf across the way. Kurt, the others would whisper reverently when they spoke of him, and Blaine would risk a venture out of his box just to gaze upon his beauty.

His arms were extended elegantly before him as if welcoming, perhaps beckoning, and he stood balanced gracefully on one leg, the other stretched high in the air behind him and out of sight.

While the paper Kurt was crafted from looked delicate, Blaine saw that he, too, stood tall on only one leg, and, because he could not see his other, Blaine believed Kurt was just like him and fell instantly in love with the dancer.

"He is like myself, possessing a single leg, but he is poised and strong," Blaine thought. "He is the perfect love for me." He continued to admire the dancer from afar, but was deeply saddened when he realized Kurt was out of reach. Blaine's sole wish was that he might find a way to Kurt, a way for Kurt to notice him.

Blaine lingered too long outside of the box one night, and when morning came, a little boy found him and set Blaine on display upon a window sill. A jealous goblin, who had seen the way Blaine looked at the dancer, pushed him out the window, and Blaine went plummeting into the street below. He was terrified as he lay there on the cobblestone walk, feeling his paint beginning to chip, but he held on to his gun and remained brave. Soon it began to rain, and Blaine feared that his paint would run off and make him unrecognizable, that he would lose his identity.

Blaine heard excited chatter and laughter, and soon a group of children came skipping along down the street. When they found him in the rain, they scooped him up. He was relieved, thinking that they would return him to his home, but instead, they crafted him a boat out of paper and sent him sailing away down the gutter.

"I fear I will never get back to my beautiful dancer," Blaine thought as the mucky water carried him farther and farther away. Kurt had captured his heart; he had dreamed of marriage and an everlasting love that may now never be. He felt his heart begin to break, but still he clung to his gun, chin up and determined to be brave.

He hoped against reason that the boat might carry him back, but instead Blaine got lost along the way. His boat washed down into a storm drain where a rat demanded he sing him a song, but he refused. Blaine wanted to save his voice for his one true love so that Kurt might hear his music and be moved by it. He imagined the dancer bending and twirling just for him, always balanced so perfectly on his one leg, lovely and spectacular to behold.

As luck would have it, the rat reluctantly allowed him to sail on, and Blaine was carried into a much larger, deeper body of water. The tiny, makeshift vessel left Blaine vulnerable in his strange new surroundings, swept up in the tides and spun about by the currents created by creatures that inhabited and ruled this place. His paper boat could not withstand the water and grew softer and softer until it fell apart, jettisoning its precious cargo. Suddenly, he was swallowed by a big fish and engulfed in darkness.

Now Blaine was certain he would never see his dancer again. Kurt was sure to have grown even stronger, even more fiercely beautiful since Blaine had last laid eyes on him. Blaine feared Kurt would fall for someone else, and they would be separated forever. But Blaine was a soldier: he could not give up. He held on to his gun and his steadfast hope, pictured Kurt and dug deep down into his heart of courage.

Miraculously, the fish was soon caught and cut open, and there was the tiny tin soldier, Blaine, shining in the sunlight. The little boy who had placed him by the window recognized him and carried him home, back to the place where his beautiful dancer resided, but things had changed about Blaine along the way, and he knew that Kurt may never feel the same way about him, could never love him the same way now as he might have before.

His paint was slightly worn and chipped in spots, and he had some dents, but still he stood strong and held his rifle like the brave soldier he was, hoping desperately that Kurt would notice him.

When they entered the room, Blaine was delighted to feel the warmth of Kurt's eyes upon him, to see him offer up a special, perfect smile. Blaine puffed out his chest and beamed back, feeling as though his heart had been given wings.

He waited patiently while the boy took him back to his box, failing to notice his frown as he was held up next to his brothers. Finding him lacking and no longer fit to play with, the little boy carelessly threw Blaine into the fire. A wind blew in through the window, catching the paper dancer, and Kurt fluttered down from the shelf and fell to Blaine's side.

He clung to Blaine and spoke for the very first time, his voice sweet, angelic, and musical:

"I promise we will find a way out, but we can only do it if we work together."

The promise from his one true love emboldened Blaine and instilled in him a new strength and vigor. So together they fought and pushed on, the flames licking at their heels, and eventually they escaped the fire without allowing it a chance to consume them. Only their pedestals had morphed, had melted and melded together, and the singular base now supporting them had taken on the shape of a heart.

The little boy heard a clatter on the floor and peered down curiously. He lifted up the two now conjoined toys, examining them in his hand, and, fascinated by their new state, set them high up on the shelf.

The tin soldier and the dancer existed that way for eternity, inseparable, with a love so steadfast, so strong that nothing could tear them apart.

"The end," Blaine said, closing the book in his lap and laying his palms flat on its cover. He traced one of the foil details with a finger, then let his hand fall limp again.

Kurt giggled quietly as he listened to the soft snores escaping their little one, now lost in dreamland. Then he turned to Blaine and mock-scolded, "That isn't how the story goes."

"I know," he answered. "It was my version of the story. They didn't burn up in the fire - because we didn't burn up, Kurt. We get a happy ending, and she deserves to hear one too."

Kurt's eyes were shining in the dim lamplight, and he grinned, his expression a mixture of melancholy and love to rival the deepest ocean depths. "It's a happy ever after," Kurt corrected. "There is no ending to what we have. You knew then, and you know now that nothing in this world could keep us apart, Blaine."

Blaine rose from his seat and offered his free hand to Kurt, who took it and rose to stand beside him. Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine twined the arm not cradling the large book around Kurt's waist. As they stood there, watching their baby sleeping soundly and just being together, Kurt stretched his arm upward and yawned, finally feeling the effects of the evening hours and a long day at the theater with new clients. The contagious yawn hit Blaine too, and he laughed softly, shaking his head. Even though he had the luxury of working from home, being the primary caretaker of their child took a toll on his body. When 9PM rolled around every night, it was almost a guarantee they were both exhausted and ready to collapse into bed.

Moving as one, they made their way into their room, changing quickly before coming back together under the covers. Kurt jumped when Blaine weaved his ice-cold feet between his own, squealing and trying to move away, but Blaine's grip was steadfast around his waist, preventing his movement.

"Blaine!" he protested loudly. "What are you -"

"I wanted us to be like the story," Blaine said, grinning impishly and pressing a kiss to Kurt's mouth. "Melded together."

Kurt huffed. "But no fire," he cautioned.

"Don't need it," Blaine said. "I think we've got plenty of heat of our own…"