I've had an idea brewing for a while for a Klaine Daddies future fic, not sure if it'll ever get written. But then I got the idea for this drabble (well, it was supposed to be a drabble) and as I was writing it, realized that it could be considered an epilogue for that future fic. So here, have the epilogue for an unwritten story!
Tap-tap, ta-ta-tap-tap. His fingers on his phone beat out a rhythm as he absentmindedly watched the people passing by on the sidewalk. A little old lady shuffled with her groceries in a trolley, then two teenagers with their arms around waists, hands in each others back pockets. A businessman in a mediocre suit hurried by, ear glued to his cell phone.
Where was Blaine? They'd agreed that whoever arrived first would wait for the other so they could go in together. A woman he vaguely recognized passed by him, reaching for the door.
"Excuse me?" She turned at his voice. "You're Matthew's mother, right?"
"Yes. I'm Miranda." She extended a hand for him to shake. "I think our kids are in the same class. You're Gilbert's father?"
"Kurt. And yes, I'm one of Gilbert's dads." He smiled but was watching her face for any sign that the statement bothered her. Her expression remained open and friendly, and he relaxed. He hadn't been too worried—this preschool had many non-traditional families which was one of the reasons they'd chosen it. Still, even in New York City it was wishful thinking to assume that they'd never encounter prejudice.
"I was wondering if you could scout for me a bit?" At her perplexed look, he tried to explain in brief. "We got an email from Ms. Creedy this morning that there might a-" he paused while wondering how to phrase it. "A concern with Gil with the planned curriculum for today, so that's why I'm here to pick him up. Usually his nanny would get him, but my husband and I wanted to be here today in case Gil's upset. I'm just waiting for my husband to get here because we agreed to go in together, but the waiting is killing me." Understanding showed on her face. "Could you just look for Gil when you get Matthew, and tell me if he seems okay?"
She smiled. "Of course," and turned to go in.
He held the door for her and then continued to hold it open as he saw a mother and child coming down the hall. The little girl, a dark-skinned beauty with long straight hair flowing down her back, was holding a piece of brightly decorated construction paper, waving it around as she talked animatedly. Her mother nodded and spoke to her softly. She looked up and saw Kurt holding the door, and tugged her hijab as if to make sure it didn't allow even one strand of hair to show. They passed through the door, the mother nodding a thanks to Kurt while keeping her eyes down. He knew the girl's name, Nadirah, and would have said hello to them, but wasn't sure how the mother would react to being spoken to by a strange man. He watched the swish of the mother's abaya as they walked away, thinking that if he'd been born a Muslim girl, he'd have been forced to leave the religion based purely on the woeful limitations to fashion choices.
"Kurt!" He turned as his name was called. Blaine hurried down the sidewalk, his eyes fixed on Kurt. "Did you look in on him yet?"
"No, I was waiting for you." He held out his hand for his husband and drew him to his side, giving him a light kiss on his flushed cheek. "Come on."
The door opened as he reached for it, and Miranda came out. "Oh Kurt...Gilbert is sitting at his desk coloring something, looks like he has quite the art project going. He seemed happy enough to me."
He thanked her and quickly introduced Blaine. They didn't talk as they headed for the classroom at the end of the hall, but the tension of Blaine's hand in his told Kurt that he was nervous too. Miranda's assurance had abated the nerves somewhat, but he'd found over the past four years that the worried feeling never really went away. It only flooded and ebbed like the tide, constantly changing its form so that he never knew just how to defend against it.
Here's what no one had told Kurt about becoming a parent: how utterly terrifying it was. The moment that his newborn son had been placed in his arms, he'd been overwhelmed with gratitude that it had finally happened for him and Blaine, and fiercely protective of the small helpless bundle. But only hours later, when they'd been woken in the middle of the night by the hungry newborn, his foremost emotion had been sheer terror. He'd woken in a panic attack the first few mornings, rushing to the crib to check on his son before he'd even rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The panic had gradually faded, but the fear was still there, under the surface of every parenting decision he made. Having Blaine to share the fear with, he believed, was the only thing that made it bearable. He didn't know how single parents did it. How did they manage the doubts gnawing at them every single day, the second-guessing of all the choices large and small? How did they keep from going crazy as they replayed every word said to their child, wondering if THAT careless remark would be the one their child threw back at them in their dreaded teen years? How did they sleep at night, knowing that the care and formation of a member of the human race had been entrusted to them? Most days felt like he and Blaine barely muddled through as parents. Why had no one told him?
But there was one concern they had recognized before being gifted with Gil, one that they'd discussed at length during the long adoption process and the months of waiting for their son to be born. No matter how good they vowed to be at parenting, no matter how much they were willing to sacrifice for their child, the one thing they couldn't give him was a mother.
That had been a major stumbling block for Kurt. He'd been a motherless child from age eight to sixteen, so he knew what a gaping hole it had been in his life. Both the memory of his own mother in his early years, and the arrival of Carole in his teen years, had confirmed for him the importance of a mother in a child's life—even a child almost grown to adulthood. How could he intentionally condemn a child to that? In the end, it was Carole who had pointed out to him that his child would grow up not knowing any differently, and they could provide female role models in its life even if not a mother. She'd helped to talk him down from that particular ledge.
But the fear came rushing back now as they reached the classroom and stopped by the door to peek inside. They saw him immediately, because he was the only child still sitting at a desk. His few classmates still waiting for pickup were sitting on the Circle Time rug, listening to a story. Gilbert's head was bent over a piece of yellow construction paper, drawing quickly, his brown eyes focused on his work. Straight blonde hair fell over his forehead and he brushed it back.
"Excuse me," a woman said as she brushed past them into the room. Her arrival drew the teacher's attention their way, and she handed the book over to an assistant before approaching them.
"I'm sorry I didn't contact you in advance," she said quietly. "I know you asked for me to email you if we had an activity that might make Gilbert feel...left out. But I've had my hands full lately. Everyone's been hyper with spring fever and I didn't even think about it till we were starting the activity today."
"It looks like our concern may have been for nothing," Blaine answered. "He hasn't been upset at all today? He looks fine right now, whatever he's doing over there."
"He's fine. He's been working on them most of the afternoon," she said quietly with a smile. "He even stayed in at recess trying to finish on time."
"Working on...them?" Kurt asked.
Mrs. Creedy's smile grew wider. "All his Mother's Day cards." Kurt turned to look at Blaine in wonder. "I asked him if there was anyone in his life who was like a mother to him, and...well, maybe you should go over there and see for yourself."
Blaine led the way over to where Gil was still bent over his task. "Hey Gillyweed," he said softly as he knelt down. Kurt had tried to discourage his husband from using the nick name, which had been a result of Blaine re-reading the Harry Potter books right before they got Gil. It had been hard work to talk Blaine out of naming their son Harry Albus. He'd finally given up on that when Kurt pointed out that would make the initials HAHA, and think of the teasing he'd get in school. When they'd decided on Gilbert Brian, Blaine had immediately nicknamed him Gillyweed. Kurt rolled his eyes a lot at first, but it had stuck and now he'd grown rather fond of it. Gil looked up.
"Daddy B! Daddy K! What you doing here? I thought Nanny was coming." He got up to hug Blaine, who stood and held the child in his arms for a moment before passing him over to Kurt. He clasped the small boy tightly, feeling the chubby legs wrap around his waist as Gil held on. He kissed his cheek and smoothed his light hair back.
"We just wanted to get you from school today. We both left work early so we could spend the afternoon with you."
"Can you show us what you're working on?" Blaine asked.
"Oh!" He nearly kicked Kurt in the stomach in his haste to get down. "All my Mother's Day cards! Come see!" He grabbed both their hands and pulled them down to the low table. A rainbow of construction paper cards filled the surface.
"You made so many, Gil! Who are they all for?" Kurt asked.
"Everyone!" the boy exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.
"Tell us," Blaine requested, picking up a red card with a large yellow star on the front. "Who is this one for?"
"Aunt Rachel," he said, confirming Kurt's suspicion. "Look, here's her and me on the stage." Gil opened the card to show them the two stick figures balanced on a wobbly horizontal line that was obviously meant to be the stage.
"That's beautiful, baby. Aunt Rachel will love that. Who's this one for?" Kurt picked up a purple card with a red heart.
"That's for my tummy mommy. Purple is her favorite, right?"
"That's what she told us," Blaine confirmed, stroking the small back. "It was nice of you to make a card for her."
"We can send it to her, right?"
"Of course we will." They sent packages containing letters, photos, and the occasional video to Gilbert's birth mother once every couple of months. Blaine opened the card, and after a quick glance, handed it to Kurt.
The picture inside showed one stick figure on the right, and two more on the left. The single person seemed to be holding something out to the other two. "What's this, Gil?" Kurt asked.
"Mommy Brianna giving me to you," he answered, glancing at the card and then turning his attention to sorting through the pile.
Kurt met Blaine's eyes over their son's head and could hear the effort his husband made to keep his voice even when he answered, "We're so glad that she did."
They'd always told Gil the truth—in an age-appropriate way, of course—about how he'd come into their lives. It started when he was an infant on their laps, listening to board books with titles like "How I was Adopted." A picture of his birth parents was displayed in his room. He'd met his birth mother several times over the years and his birth father just once, the previous Christmas. Though he'd always known the basic facts of the story, as he grew he'd occasionally ask new questions which they answered as gently and honestly as they could.
They had maintained contact with Brianna, the teenager who'd made the difficult decision of giving her baby up for adoption. The communications had been one sided for over a year, just them sending photos and letters about Gil to the lawyer who'd helped with the adoption. It had been agreed that Brianna wanted the option of getting updates about her baby, but that the packages should go to a third party so she could choose when she was ready for the information. Gil was fifteen months old when they received an email from the lawyer that Brianna had come to his office asking for the packages. Several days later, there was a phone call from Brianna herself, saying that it had taken her that long to calm down from the emotional upheaval of seeing the first year of the baby she'd brought into the world. That first phone call evoked tears on both sides, and had ended with her request to see Gil the next time they came home to Ohio, where they'd adopted him.
Since then there had been several more visits when they went home, and Brianna called on important days, like Gil's birthday. Kurt and Blaine had both hoped for Gil's birth mother to be a part of his life, while at the same time they feared it. But after that first emotional phone call, the relationship between them had settled into a routine that seemed to work for everyone. They continued to send updates about Gil to the lawyer, always leaving Brianna the option of when she was ready to see them. Sometimes a few months would go by with no word from her, then there would be a new email or phone call. She obviously wanted to know about her child and be a peripheral part of his life, while at the same time trying not to get too emotionally involved or interfere with his adoptive family. Over the years Kurt and Blaine had developed respect and empathy for the young woman who displayed such maturity in walking that fine line.
Gil kept moving through the pile of cards, showing them the ones he'd made for Grandma Carole, Grandmother Alice, Aunt Mercedes, Nanny Sarah, and Aunt Santana. Each one was individualized with a simple drawing and sometimes a word or two. They usually had to ask what the picture was supposed to be, as Gil's artistic talents were on par with most four year old children. Carole's card featured her kissing a boo boo on his knee. Blaine's mother was baking cookies with him, something Blaine claimed she never did when he was a kid, but she seemed to have discovered her domestic side with her grandson. Nanny Sarah was a scribbled figure at the bottom of a slide, ready to catch Gil as he came down. Mercedes' card was littered with scribbles all around the two stick figures, which Gil said represented all the clothes they'd pulled out of his closet to play dress up.
"This is a lot of cards, and they're all so pretty!" Kurt praised him.
"You must have worked on these all day, Gil," Blaine added.
"He did," Mrs. Creedy's voice came from behind them. She stepped forward with a plastic folder. "He worked very hard because he wanted to be sure to finish them all today." She smiled at their son fondly. "I brought you a folder to put all your pretty cards in, Gilbert. I know you want to keep them safe till you can give them to everyone."
Blaine thanked her and took the folder, kneeling down again to help put the cards in neatly.
Kurt turned at the tap on his shoulder. Mrs. Creedy motioned for him to lean closer, and said softly, "Gilbert was telling me stories about his various mothers today, and he mentioned that one of them was teaching him to pick locks?" She raised her eyebrows in inquiry.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "That would be Santana," he muttered. "She's a loyal friend, but she doesn't have Satan in her name for nothing. I'll speak to her about appropriate skills for a preschooler to be learning."
She nodded, her eyes alight with humor now. "Just a warning, Gilbert also said something about Santana looking for his daddies' toys one day, while the two of you were out of the apartment?"
"Oh hell no," Kurt snapped before he realized where he was, then clapped a hand over his mouth, looking around. Fortunately, the classroom seemed to be empty except for them. All the other kids had left while he'd been distracted. Gil didn't seem to have noticed his curse, though Blaine was giving him a strange look. "Sorry," he said sheepishly to the teacher. "I will definitely be having a talk with Santana. Thanks for the warning."
"You're welcome." She looked as though she was trying not to laugh as she turned away and went to her desk. Weren't embarrassing moments in a classroom supposed to end with high school graduation?
"Ready to go, Gillyweed?" Blaine was asking as Kurt turned back to his family.
"Yep!" Their little boy, bigger by the day, put on his miniature backpack and reached up to grasp each of their hands so that he walked between them. "Bye, Mrs. Creedy!" he called over his shoulder as they left the room.
As they walked down the hall, Kurt spoke. "We'll need to find envelopes big enough for these cards, and write all the addresses on them so we can mail them out to the people who don't live in New York."
"And the ones that do live here, we can deliver them personally," Blaine added. "What do you think of that?"
"I think..." Gil's face screwed up as he thought. "That sounds fun, but..."
"But what?" Kurt questioned.
"It's just...I don't think I need any more mommies."
Kurt looked over their son's head to his husband, who asked, "So you're saying you have enough mommies?"
"More than enough," he answered seriously. "That was a lot of cards." He tugged on their hands. "Swing me?" They swung him up in the air a foot or so before letting him swing back down, the movement automatic from years of practice.
"How about daddies? Do you have enough of those?" Kurt asked.
"Uh-huh." He tugged on their hands and they obligingly swung him up again. "Father's Day will be so much easier."
Many thanks to gottriplets for helping me brainstorm ideas for Gilbert's name. Reviews are appreciated.