A/N: Written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt "variation". Sebastian Smythe friendly. Daddies!Klaine. Teenage Tracy is Mercedes's daughter in this. Mention of mild gory imagery, nothing majorly disgusting.
"Blaine Devon Ander-Hummel!"
"Uh-oh," Blaine mutters, peeking over at his daughter sitting in the front passenger seat who just heard her Papa scold him over speakerphone. "What did I do now?"
"Oh, no! No, no, no! It's not what you did …" Kurt pauses his rant, his frantic pacing of the living room floor audible during the silence. "Actually, it is! Because you said we should trust him! You said people change! You said we should give him a second chance!"
Blaine sighs. Crap. "Sebastian." He shakes his head, but he can't help grinning the tiniest bit. "What did he do now?"
"I … I can't really explain it. It's something you have to see."
"Well, I just picked Tracy up from batting practice and we're heading to the store, but …"
"No!" Kurt yelps. "Forget the store! I need you to come home right now!"
"But you're the one who said we have nothing in the fridge for dinner," Blaine reminds him.
"I know! But I don't want to stay here alone with it here!"
Blaine and Tracy share a look, confused and a little alarmed.
"It?" Tracy whispers. "What it? Like, the clown?"
Blaine shrugs. "Okay. Why don't you meet us at the store, love?"
"I … I can't." Kurt gulps. "I can't leave. I'm … paralyzed with fear."
Tracy and Blaine trade looks again, more significant than the first. Paralyzed with fear? Blaine has never heard Kurt say such a thing; not his husband, who once faced down two drunk homophobes in an alley alone. And neither has Tracy, who grabs her father's shoulder and shakes it urgently. "Go, Daddy! Go home now!"
"Don't worry, peanut." Blaine changes lanes, bypassing the underground parking lot for the supermarket. "We're going, we're going!"
This prank war between Blaine and Sebastian has been going on since the two of them left Dalton. It started out rather simply, with Blaine taking a cue from David Karofsky's playbook and sending a Gorilla Gram to Sebastian's internship in Manhattan over Valentine's Day when he mentioned his most recent hook-up made ape noises during sex. Sebastian retaliated by filling Blaine's BMW with condoms and bananas, which didn't really bother Blaine too much.
He and Kurt could always use a hefty supply of condoms.
It did bother Kurt, however, who can't stand to see food go to waste, and spent thirty-six hours straight making banana bread, banana muffins, and every other banana based baked good known to man.
Such was the way with this particular prank war. Blaine would target Sebastian and hit. Sebastian would target Blaine, but eight times out of ten, he'd hit Kurt instead. In the over a decade this has been taking place, Blaine had started to wonder if Kurt had become Sebastian's intended target. After all, the most strategic strike doesn't take out your target. It takes out the people closest to them.
And Sebastian is nothing if not strategic.
Regardless, everything they've done so far has been in fun. No one has ever gotten hurt. Inconvenienced, sure. Embarrassed – absolutely. But not hurt. Blaine's most recent volley, for example, was to send a glitter bomb to Sebastian's penthouse over Thanksgiving, knowing that not only his family, but his fiancé's family would be present to witness it. No big deal.
Okay, maybe it was fifteen glitter bombs, rigged to go off all at once the moment the first one was opened, but that wouldn't call for a vicious retaliation.
In fact, it was probably very, very pretty.
Could Sebastian have gone too far this time? Purposefully tapped into one of Kurt's greatest fears in his thirst for revenge?
Worst of all … will they have to declare Sebastian Smythe the winner? Because if they do, Blaine has no idea how he'll ever live this down.
As he and Tracy weren't far from home to begin with, it doesn't take them long to get there, snow plows and icy roads notwithstanding. The closer they get to their house, the more they begin to see what looks like mounds and mounds of snow piled up on their front lawn. Could Sebastian have stopped by and shoveled all of the snow in the neighborhood onto their yard, even going so far as to block the front door? Possibly. But why would that have Kurt paralyzed with fear? It's more annoying than anything else. It doesn't make any sense … until they're nearly right on top of them.
It's not random piles of snow on their lawn, but snowmen. Different variations of snowmen in bizarre poses, with spindly branch limbs outstretched, reaching towards their house.
From Blaine's car parked out front, they can finally make out what the snowmen are supposed to be, and Blaine chokes on air.
Zombies. They're zombie snowmen.
Sebastian Smythe built an army of zombie snowmen on their front lawn.
Some of them are headless. Some of them are holding the heads of other headless snowmen. Some have glowing red eyes (courtesy of battery operated LEDs), and the realistic-looking limbs of small children sticking out of their gaping maws. Most of them are spattered with fake blood. Tons of it. It would be impossible to buy that much fake blood in December, which means that Sebastian had to be planning this since Halloween, knowing that when he'd mentioned hosting his first ever holiday dinner for his (soon-to-be) whole family, Blaine would pull something.
Blaine had to admit, that was some dedication right there.
He stares out the windshield, aghast at this display, which is beginning to garner the attention of their more conservative neighbors.
"I … I don't know what to say," Blaine remarks, at war with himself over whether to be outraged by this onslaught (since it comes on the heels of him mentioning how much Kurt hated The Walking Dead series), disturbed by the imagery, or impressed by Sebastian Smythe's determination. But Tracy, with absolutely no qualms whatsoever about how she feels over her Uncle Sebastian's actions, reaches into the backseat for her softball bat.
"Don't worry, Daddy," she says, getting out of the car with a murderous gleam in her eyes. "I've gots this."