Ctrl-A-Delete, a Glee fiction

I do not own Glee. Remember to review!

Dear Blaine,

I have a perfectly logical explanation for why I laughed at your blueberry muffin during lunch today. Which I was going to tell you before Nick and Jeff sat down. Between Jeff going on about the girl he met last night and Nick asking for all the details I couldn't get a word in edgewise. So now I will let you in on my secret so you do not feel out of the loop.

You have to pinky promise not to laugh at my dream. And yes, I am holding out my pinky right now.

I was coming home from a trip to New York fashion week and had promised to bring you a bag of blueberry muffins. Apparently you had tried them on our honeymoon and loved them. When I came home empty handed, aside from the stuffed suitcase that barely made its weight requirement, you were upset to find that there were no muffins.

You: So where are the muffins?

Me: The guy at luggage took them away.

You, pawing through what I had brought back: Why?

Me: Something about blueberry bombs.

You, dropping a pair of my boxers: Where they bombs?

Me: No, but at the rate he ate them, they'll probably be stomach bombs.

Then some, events, went down and my suitcase never got unpacked.

I'm just glad you finally got your muffin. Guess that means I can't satisfy your hunger like in the dream then huh?

Ctrl-A-Delete

Dear Blaine,

I have no idea how a child like Karlie could have spawned from your aunt. That woman is amazing. Not only is she charming (it must run in you mother's side of the family) but she is fashionable. When she called me this afternoon, asking if I wanted to go shopping with her I was shocked. One, because I had no idea how she got my phone number. It turns out she got it from your phone. Two, the type of clothes she was searching for.

I cannot believe your aunt asked for my help buying baby clothes. I've never gotten to buy baby clothes. They're all so cute and tiny! Oh, I wish I had a baby so I could dress it up in little designer outfits. Designer being Kurt Hummel. I could design my own line of baby clothes.

Why did you never tell me your aunt was pregnant? I know you don't see her too often, normally just her dumping Karlie at your place and running off to who knows where. There is no way you could've missed that baby bump. I don't expect it to come up in normal conversation like "Yo Kurt, my aunt got herself a bun in the oven, y'know what I'm saying?" I just thought that it'd be one of those things that you would tell me in the least gangsta pimp way possible.

We weren't sure if it's going to be a boy or girl, so we got some clothes that could go either way. We raided Babies R Us and found a puppy footies outfit. It has puppy face booties! They'll have to wait a couple of months to fit in it, but it is worth the wait. I even convinced her to buy a new diaper bag to replace the one she has from Karlie's birth.

I wish those puppy footies came in my size. I could pull the look off, don't you think?

Ctrl-A-Delete

Dear Blaine,

Do you Daltonites (Daltoners?) ever play real sports? Seriously, first dodgeball, and now kickball. At McKinley I could strut across the basketball court and let the sweaty guys fight over the ball like it was a hot girl. Some days I'd put forth the effort and get into a game of volleyball so I could accidentally almost smash someone in the face with the ball. The word accidentally is used very loosely here.

Then I transferred to Dalton and I'm faced with the wrath of red rubber balls. I put on my game face and threw some balls around. Fine. But I do not like kickball. Curse that red rubber ball.

You know those parts in the scary movies where the monster gets closer to the camera and you feel like you're the person getting chased. The music gets way eerie and your breath is supposed to get all heavy. Well, that's how I felt when I was up to kick today.

The gym teacher had put on a CD from 2008. "Disturbia" came on. Rihanna was not helping me concentrate. Then I imagined the ball being Karofsky's face. I kicked that thing so hard I was afraid I was going to knock somebody's head off. See, being ex-kicker of the McKinley football team, you'd think I love kickball. But with football the ball is perfectly still. In kickball it's tumbling towards you.

You know, you didn't have to cheer the ENTIRE time I ran around after my homerun.

Thanks for doing it anyway.

Ctrl-A-Delete

Dear Blaine,

After spending the afternoon with your aunt and finishing my homework, I am exhausted. It's nearly seven o'clock as you can tell by the time stamp, and I am considering calling it a night. I'm curled up in my blankets. I can't fall asleep with Finn and Mike playing video games. So instead I'm thinking about everything that I'm too young to worry about.

For one, I'm imagining our future child. What would their name be? I searched names that meant courage, just to be corny. I came up with Hernando and Drea. Those were the normal names. It doesn't really matter what the name means, as long as it sounds good and is easy to spell.

But for the record, your name means yellow. Mine means courteous. Hah.

I'm more worried about the sexual orientation of our kid. Rachel was raised by two gay dads and turned out straight. The way she clings onto Finn like saran wrap onto a freshly frosted cake is evidence enough. I'm not sure why or how they work, but they do.

I'm curious though, do you think our kid'll like boys? We could have a boy that likes boys, or a girl that likes boys. Or a girl that likes girls. What if there's a future bully that slushies them and shoves them into lockers? Nobody knows how future bullies will act. For all we know they might blast them with milk cartons. That stuff sours. Our kid will walk into math class with sour milk dripping down their back. That is sad Blaine. Very sad.

If we get a daughter, who will teach her about puberty? We are gay men. We do not deal with the female reproductive system. We'll have to ask Carole for help. Or your mom. We should ask Rachel about this.

Not too soon. I'm not ready to be a father yet. I'm still young, and I don't want to baby proof our relationship for fear that a toddler will walk in on us doing things toddlers should not see.

By the way, you'll be on diaper duty.

New message from Blaine. Read.

Dear Blaine,

Your head is already over your heels, but I will agree that you are crazy. It's what makes us so perfect together.

Sweet dreams,

Backspace

From the city of wonder,

Backspace

I'll be Beethoven,

Kurt

(P.S. We need to buy a present for when your aunt has her baby. Looks like a trip to Build a Bear is in order.)