I hope you don't hate me. I don't really have the clearest idea as to where this is going, so until then feel free to make your own conclusions . But until I figure that out, here, have when Kurt met Blaine in a playground all those years ago.

There was a picture standing on the fireplace. It was a picture of two little boys, sitting in a sandbox, with a paper lunch bag full of PB and J sandwiches and apple juice boxes. They'd built hundreds upon hundreds of sandcastles the day that photo had been taken. Sat in the backyard from breakfast till dinner and passed the time aimlessly, as four-going-on-five year olds would. Next to the wedding photo, and the photo they had with Katie, this was Kurt's favourite photo. It was the beginning of his everything. And some lines of a song he had heard so long ago seemed to escape his lips. And his voice shook and didn't sound right, because it was tied together with the chokes of the afternoon, but somehow the raw-rimmed eyes just made it so much more real. By the time I was your age I'd give anything, to fall in love truly was all I could dream. That's when I met your father the boy of my dreams, the most beautiful man that I'd ever seen.

~~~OOO~~~

They first laid eyes on each other the first day of kindergarten at Lima Heights Elementary, both terrified, neither wanting to let go of their nervous mothers. The teacher, Miss May, a master by this stage at prying kids from mothers, removed Kurt and Blaine within minutes of each other, saving Mrs Hummel and Mrs Anderson from dead legs and any worse of a case of separation anxiety.

"Come on boys; let's go do some finger painting yes?" May asked; a smile on her face, perfected after her years of teaching four year olds, just like these two boys.

The question was replied with another outburst of cries from the both of the boys, and somewhere within that moment, blue-green met hazel. And in the twinkling of interlocking four year old eyes, somehow they both managed to let go of their mother's legs; with a sigh of relief from the two women, join hands with each other and follow their kindergarten teacher to their newest of a series of exiting adventures three year old dreams think of when awaiting their birthday, without uttering a word.

"Hi, I'm Blaine," the older looking, black haired short boy muttered, drying his cheeks, attempting to remove traces of tears, as they entered the building. "I don't like being away from my mummy. I really am a big boy though. Don't think I'm a girl because I've been crying." Almost tripping over his own feet, he somehow managed to make it up the 5 or six or so stairs.

Kurt couldn't help but giggle his innocent and high-pitched laugh, "I don't like being away from my mummy either Blaine, it's just not cool." He stuck out his pale and ghostly hand, "I'm Kurt." And with that a smile appeared on both of their faces. It was strange how it seemed to mirror the other. The corners of Blaine's lips would turn up at the exact same moment that Kurt's did. It was like there was something that connected them. The two boys were far too young and naïve and engrossed in their new friendship discussions of their favourite television shows to notice this, but their kindergarten teacher did.

From where she was talking to Kate Hummel and Dakota Anderson, and the rest of the mothers and fathers who had dropped their children off on their first day, she read her speech, not off paper. Rather she spoke what she had just seen in Blaine and Kurt's mirrored smiles.

"Every year, I get a child that surprises me the most. Who makes me stop and miss being a four year old, and the adventures and friendships and spilt milk and birthday cake. And there's always the moments when I realise how horrible growing up has been, because I can't cry over grazed knees, and hug my mother's legs because I don't want to leave her that day. Every day, I see children sleep harmless, uninterrupted sleeps, full of coloured imagery and flying birds and chocolate and unicorns, and wake with as much energy as they did that morning. And I see them try to spell their names, and build sandcastles. Every day I see children holding hands and hugging and jumping rope and looking at picture books and talking nonsensical things about what they heard their parent's talk about that morning. Or pretty pictures they've seen hanging up somewhere that mother's promise to take them. And there are always the girls that show promise of being sensible and the boys who show a life of loss. But every time I get a new class, I prepare myself for something new. Something amazing. And there's always one child who manages to show me something different. There's always the one who defies everything and gives me hope, and I think I just saw it. I saw something that will give me the confidence and the courage to help me get along with your children. I saw love in a place so new, so raw. So ignorant to the outside world. So young. So naïve. So innocent. So pure. So free"

She gave the parents an opportunity to take in her words, before she continued. "I ensure you; your children are in safe hands. So now I must tell you all to get lost. We have finger painting and fort climbing to be doing!" She finished with a smile, much to the amusement of the would-be nervous parents, comforted by May's words.

Kate and Dakota waved at their boys from the gate they exited out of. Catching the other woman's eye, they couldn't help but smile. Not even fifteen minutes into the first day of kindergarten, and their sons were already walking across the playground, hand in hand, to sit on the swings. Carefree. Young. Innocent.

"I think you and I will be seeing a lot of each other over the year, Dakota." Kate smiled as she and the other mother parted, thinking of the smile on her sons face.

"I look forward to every play date."

~~~OOO~~~

The year passed in the way the mother's expected. As did the next year as they entered elementary school. The two boys would take turns each day in going to the others house. They built cubbies out of bed sheets and chairs, ate peanut butter and ice cream, played dress ups, playing mummies and daddies and had tea parties, lots and lots of tea parties. And they always ended the hours in the same way. With a hug and an Eskimo kiss.

They had first seen it on a movie Mrs Anderson had watched whilst the boys were at home. Well, it looked like a boring movie to the four year olds, but they had seen two people, unrecognisable in their parkas and padded warm clothes, rub their noses back and forth against the others, to warm up the other.

And so, ever since, their afternoons and sleepovers and vacations spent at the beach house and afternoons by the local pool and tea parties and imagination games had always ended in held hands and Eskimo kisses. "I hope this keeps you warm tonight. " Kurt would always say first.

"Because you don't deserve to be cold."

And Blaine would finish, and then one or the other would leave with his superhero backpack and they would repeat it over and over again the next day, and the next. And it was just a cycle for them. So much so that Miss May had started calling them Inuit's in kindergarten, and somehow this had translated into their parent's vocabulary also.

And it was good that the two mothers got along so well also, normally coming along on the house of the day with the son and talking the afternoon away about their husband's jobs, and where they were planning to go that summer.

You see, Blaine and Kurt were what you would call two peas in a pod. If one of them had been a girl, then the way they acted around each other would have made the other mothers in the playground go "Aww. And you wanna know something? In 25 years they'll be married and you'll be grandparents."

But they were two little boys; immune to the hate and the violence and the prejudice and ignorance and discrimination and deaths and sadness. And their mothers didn't like to think too much of the future. Not when Kurt had broken his right arm one day, and Blaine fell off the same swing the next day and broke his left. If ever there was a competition for 'best friends who are the same,' hands down. They would have won.

So the years of innocence ticked on, and the wrists healed, and they stumbled and fought over who wore what to tea parties, and what movie to watch, and what to drink with Anne's lasagne, or Dakota's mash potato, or how they would pass summer afternoons where there was too much sun and not enough shade. And the two boys passed through elementary school side by side, hands held and hugged at the end of the day. And they would always, always part in the same way. Even when Kurt had to go with his mum to the doctor's, or Blaine had to go visit his grandfather in the nursing home. The promise of tomorrow would always be sealed in the most innocent act of an Eskimo kiss. "I hope this keeps you warm tonight"

"Because you don't deserve to be cold."