*I don't own Glee but I would do unspeakable things to Ryan Murphy for the chance to.

A/N- I don't live in NYC, and I never have, so please excuse any mistakes that I make when it comes to interaction with the city! If you want a visual for the Hummel-Anderson house, watch the Cosby show. When you read "Papa" make sure you hold the SECOND "a" and not the first so it's more Italian sounding. Also, we're going to go ahead and pretend that Kurt and Blaine live in a magical world where nothing in society, technology, or culture seriously progresses for the 24 years between their senior year and this fic. K? K.

Part One

Kurt trod up the steps of the beautiful Manhattan brownstone, his buttery smooth leather messenger bag that carried his laptop seemingly getting heavier with every incline. He loved his job as Fashion Director of GQ Magazine, but dammit if the kids working there didn't take it out of him every day. Finally reaching the door, he turned his key and sidled through the gigantic mahogany door into the living room and smiled. On the couch sat his husband, clad in his after-work ensemble of sweatpants and Columbia University t-shirt, feet on the ottoman and arms spread out along the back of the couch. In the armchair to his left sat his son, in dark jeans and a polo, his light brown hair messy and his blue/gray eyes staring fixedly at the television.

"Chow, darlin'," Blaine said in a springy tone, looking from the TV to where Kurt had walked in. The latter walked behind the couch so as not to block the television, where it seemed an incredibly enthralling football game was in full swing, and kissed Blaine, whose head was lying flat on the back of the couch.

"How was work?" he asked Blaine as he walked behind his son and attempted to fix his unruly hair before his hand was gently swatted away.

"Same old, same old. Molded some minds, taught some verbs. As much as I'd like to think it will, Italian doesn't seem to change very much." Blaine laughed as he turned his attention back to the game. Kurt smiled; he knew how much Blaine loved teaching Italian at Columbia, his alma matter, even if he did complain about its mundaneness.

"Dan, how was school?" Kurt had sat on the couch to the left of Blaine to be closer to his son and crossed his legs as Blaine's arm lowered to tighten around his shoulders and massage his neck. Dan didn't look away from television and appeared not to have heard him. "I'll wait until commercial, then," Kurt murmured. Blaine chuckled and muted the TV as it launched into an advertisement for Doritos.

"Sorry, Dad," he said, turning to look at Kurt. "School was fine. I took my chemistry test; it was pretty much a joke. I don't see why everyone was bit- whining so much about chemical reactions with aqueous solutions. It's really not that difficult to grasp."

"It doesn't come as naturally to others as it does to you, Daniel," said Kurt, standing up and kissing his son softly on the top of the head. "Did you get your school pictures back yet?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I gave them to Papa," said Dan, his attention fixed back on the TV.

"Kitchen table," Blaine said, smiling. "Very handsome." Kurt smiled back, nodding proudly.

"Where's your sister?" he asked, looking around as if he'd somehow missed her.

"She's upstairs in her room, moping about something," Dan replied. Kurt looked to his husband and raised an eyebrow. Blaine shrugged, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as if to say 'teenage girls; I don't even know'. Kurt walked around the back side of the couch, patting Blaine's shoulder as he passed, to the opposite side of the room and up the stairs. When he reached the landing, he walked to the first door on the right and knocked softly.

"Bernie?" he asked softly as he tapped. "Bernie, honey, open the door." He heard music coming from the room; sad, low, depressing music. But he heard no response. "Bernie, sweetie, I want to talk to you please." Still no response. "Bernadette Elizabeth Hummel-Anderson, open this door right now." As he said it the door creaked and a tiny girl stood holding it open. At the sight of her Kurt's eyes widened.

Her normally pristine, sculpted black curls were in a tangled, frizzled mess. Her makeup, that she took such pride in doing artfully every single morning, no matter what she had planned for the day ahead, was smeared and dripping down her face. Instead of one of her hundreds of adorable outfits, she wore yoga pants and an old, stained, gray sweatshirt. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot, she'd obviously been crying for quite awhile.

"Bernie! Sweetheart what happened?" He squatted slightly to be at her eye level and held her face between his hands. At right about five feet tall, she was a good ten inches shorter than him (a gene she inherited from her biological father). At fifteen- a year younger than her brother- she was confident, imaginative, creative, driven, and tough as nails. Tears rarely sought exodus from her eyes, so when they did, her family knew it was something serious. She looked straight at him, her beautiful eyes getting glassy again, and she flung her arms around Kurt's neck before she let out a tiny sob and cried softly into his shoulder. He shushed her and rubbed her back softly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly, pulling her away so that he could see her face. She nodded and he followed her into her room where they sat down on the bed. He draped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, still sniffling a little. "Now, what's wrong, Bernie?"

"It's Jess," she said, sitting up straight and staring down at her hands, clasped in her lap. "Daddy I-" she took a deep breath and looked Kurt straight in the eyes. "Daddy, I think I'm in love with him."

8888888

Kurt and Blaine lay in their bed on their sides so that that they were face to face. Blaine's arm was draped over Kurt's hip and his thumb was gently tracing circles there. Looks of concern were etched on both their faces.

"Jess? Really?" Blaine asked, apparently unable to grasp the concept.

"Well, they've been best friends for over four years now; I guess I can sort of understand." Kurt said, running a hand through his hair. "Evidently it took him getting a girlfriend for her to realize that she wanted to be his girlfriend."

"But honestly, Jess?" Blaine sighed. It wasn't like he didn't like the kid. Jess Mancini was one of those people whose looks didn't match their personality at all. He was average height, and lean from years of competitive swimming. His black hair and tan skin always carried a hint of shine, whether it was from pool water, cooking oil, or hair grease. He came from the typical New York Italian family and had therefore learned that manners and hard work meant everything from a very young age. But underneath his polite air and good looks, he was one of the biggest nerds Blaine and Kurt had ever met. He loved Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings, and read science fiction and comic books like they were sustenance of life. One thing he loved more than anything else was writing and illustrating his own comics, which was how he and Bernie had become friends four years ago, at the beginning of their sixth grade year. They'd been joined at the hip ever since.

"Blaine, don't act like falling in love with your best friend is some kind of foreign concept to you," Kurt muttered, tucking some of Blaine's curls behind his ear.

"Hmm," Blaine hummed into the touch. "Of course not. But I just thought- you know- if it hadn't happened by now, it wasn't going to happen." Kurt smiled at him.

"Sometimes it just takes something big for you to wake up and realize it, I guess."

"You don't seemed half as surprised as I do," said Blaine.

"I think I always suspected," Kurt sighed, shrugging. "The way she looks at him sometimes; I remember getting that look from you hundreds of times, even if it was over twenty years ago."

"So what is she going to do?"

"She doesn't know yet. Obviously, she wants him to know. But he seems really happy with this girlfriend of his, and she doesn't want to risk losing her best friend."

"And what did you tell her she should do?" Blaine asked, furrowing his brow.

"I didn't. She wasn't really hunting for advice; she just wanted to talk about it. You know Bernie, very independent, very bottled up. She's definitely her father's daughter in that aspect." Kurt leaned in and gave Blaine a quick peck of a kiss. "Our baby girl's all grown up and falling in love." Blaine stared at his husband for a second, and both their eyes widened.

"I don't like it." Blaine stated, causing Kurt to chuckle as he held Blaine's cheek gently in his hand.

"Me neither," he sighed. "Wasn't it yesterday she was finger painting on Danny's sheets?"

"And the walls, and the rug, and the cat." They laughed together.

"Blaine," said Kurt, quietly. They had both closed their eyes and were slipping quietly into sleep. " We're getting old." Blaine let out a soft groan, eyes not opening. Kurt turned over so that Blaine's chest was flush against his back, arm still draped over his hip.

"We're the parents of teenagers." Kurt let out his own, slightly louder groan. "Will you still love me when they're both gone and you're stuck in the house with me all alone?" Blaine smiled as he said it, resting his forehead against the back of Kurt's shoulder.

"I've put up with you this long. It would take so much effort to get used to someone new this late in the game." Blaine let out a tiny laugh that was muffled by Kurt's back. "Plus," he said, pulling Blaine's left hand, currently tracing circles on his hip, up to Kurt's own chest and fingering the ring that sat on it, "there's the little matter of this thing." Blaine lifted his head and moved it so his lips were righ behind Kurt's ear.

"So then I guess you're stuck with me," he whispered. Kurt smiled.

"Likewise."

A/N – Just wrote this as little break from my other story The First Splash is the Coldest, which you should definitely check out if you need something to read! I love writing futureKlaine, it's so much less restricting. I think I'll add to this sporadically, but please REVIEW and tell me if you like the family so far!