( Psst! I don't know if you followers will get an alert about an updated chapter but I have made some edits to the end of this one, because the idea of Finlay telling no more stories was too sad ):
AN - I hope this makes up for the long wait...
...
Blaine was caught halfway between exasperation and amusement as he stood, hands on hips, examining the kitchen. It wasn't the unwashed dishes, or the grimy stove or the old rotting fruit that had drawn his attention but the pink, little bare-chested person, splay-legged on the lino, chin thrust upward, sitting on his hands like a pouting prisoner of war.
And the open Goober Jelly jar dribbling on the counter.
Very suspicious he thought, hearing Kurt's trademark sarcastic voice in his mind as he did.
"Hello, Finlay."
This seemed a good way to begin.
" 'Lo Papa."
"And what are you up to?"
There was a wide eyed pause.
"Um… nothin' I'm just sittin'"
"Sitting on your hands? That can't be comfortable."
Little Finlay hummed as though trying to change the subject with a song.
Blaine sank into a heavy cross-legged pile on the floor facing his son, he possessed so much less dignity than Kurt and it served him well in situations like this.
'Finnie?'
'Yes, Pa?'
'How come the Goobers jar is empty?'
Finlay's mouth hung open in deliberation
'It was the mouses, Papa!'
Blaine kept his smile closed and his voice warm, he had always prided himself on his merry disposition and had been determined that it not abandon him in fatherhood.
'Have we got mouses in the house?'
'Not any now, I chased 'em off Papa!'
The little voice was growing excited now, the thrill of the story overtaking the necessity of a lie.
'Yeah, they was big mice… big as me… in hoodies… with knifes and hats…and they was stealing all the jelly from in the cupboards… and I chased 'em off!'
Blaine propped his chin upon his hand upon his knee and focused on the animated storyteller.
'I shooed 'em off…and they leaved 'cause they was scared…'cause I'm big and scary to mouses, Papa! Really scary!'
Little cheeks were flushed with momentum and little hands trapped under a bottom must have itched to join in the tale with grand gestures.
'I was gonna call the police but then my lego police came instead…and they arrested the mouses…and took 'em away to a prison…and I wasn't even scared of the knifes and things…I just fighted with the mice so they would leave the Jelly…'
'I think you've got sticky fingers, Fin.'
Blaine interrupted, Finlay was unruffled
''Cause the mouses had Jelly on them Papa, duh!'
Blaine snickered and folded his arms across his chest. Finlay's hands slid out from under him and plopped onto his knees. Blaine bent forward,
'Are you sure that's what happened…?'
A determined nod, the two were nose to nose… Papa's smile spread like cream, he couldn't be this close to his son and not smile a little wider than before.
'I saw the mouses, Pa.'
Sombre Kurt would have held an investigative hearing in the sitting room – but that was hardly jolly Papa's style…
'That.' he said 'Is the best story I have ever heard. But it is… unfortunately… not true.'
He drew back.
'I'm going to ask you a serious question now, Finlay, and I want to hear a serious answer. That's fair, right?'
A less determined nod. Papa's eyes were calm and level and full of hope,
'I love you. And I need to hear you tell me now, the truth. Can you do that?'
Another nod from the little man,
'Ok. Finlay, did you take the Jelly off the counter and eat it?'
The child was unabashed, he could look straight into Papa's eyes – certain he was in no danger.
'I eated it, Papa. I was hungry.'
Blaine's eyes shone and his shoulders fell.
'Thank-you for doing what I asked baby.'
Both boys wriggled to their feet.
'Let's go wash.'
'Why Pa?'
''Cause you're all sticky, boo, that's why.'
Later that night, after Blaine rang his husband surreptitiously from the toilet and Kurt came home and gave a seminar on how story-telling at the wrong times was called lying and lying made everybody sad and disappointed.
After dinner, which came and went with no mention of any dessert for Finlay,
After the bedtime sing-song and after every shadowy nook and cranny was pronounced fully monster-free.
After cuddles and kisses and after the curtains were drawn, Blaine was beckoned very close to the head on the bed, ear bent very low to catch the conspiratorial whisper
'I not gonna tell any stories no more, Papa.'
Finlay was very sincere.
''Cause I don't want t' tell no lies.'
A disapproving sniff.
'They doesn't sound very nice.'
And with that sentiment the little philosopher blew a raspberry and snuggled down into the duvet.
Blaine put a kiss among the curls,
'No, baby. You must never stop telling your stories...'
This was very important,
'You just gotta tell me it's a story before you start, so I don't think you're telling a lie...alright?'
A yawn and a nod.
A sleepy dismissal.
Blaine slipped from the room, eyes shining with this newfound feeling of triumph.
He was eager to share that feeling with Kurt and fervently hoping to spend the next few hours in loving conversation with his husband's warm, pale skin..
AN - Still not so sure about that ending... ah well, review and let me know what you think (pretty please)
