Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.
"Hold my hand, Emily," Kurt said.
His little sister wriggled out of her booster seat and hopped to the ground, her pink glittery sneakers twinkling in the mid-morning sunlit. "We get to help Daddy, we get to help Daddy," she singsonged, latching onto Kurt's hand happily.
"Well, I'll help Daddy, you'll just run around like a little maniac," Kurt grinned as he shut the back door of his Navigator.
Emily frowned. "I am not a little maniac, Kurty, I'm a little girl," she explained.
"Oh, well, excuse me," Kurt said, smiling down at her as he squeezed her hand and walked her towards the garage.
The impish four-year-old had been left in the care of her father and brother while Carole and Finn spent the weekend in Fort Lauderdale helping Carole's parents move to a retirement home. Originally that had thrown a bit of kink into Kurt and Burt's plans, as Kurt was going to work in the garage for the summer before he headed back to New York City and his fashion degree in the fall, but after some deliberating they realized they could just take Emily to the garage with them and teach her how to work on cars.
Or, at least, she could sit in the office and color.
Kurt held the door open as Emily ran inside. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" she shrieked.
Burt held his arms open as his daughter hurtled towards him. "Hey, there, firecracker," he grinned, catching her in a hug and picking her up. He planted a big kiss on her cheek. "Did Kurt take good care of you this morning?"
"Uh-huh," Emily said, nodding eagerly. "He woke me up and made me breakfast, and it was oatmeal which I don't like but he made it better than Mommy does, and then he braided my hair. See? See? See, Daddy? And he put in the bows, and they match my shoes. See, Daddy?"
"I see, princess," Burt said, tugging on one of her long braids. "So are you going to help me and brother today?"
"Uh-huh, I'm a real good mech'nic," Emily said.
Kurt grinned as he set Emily's monogrammed backpack down on the tattered couch in the office. "Sure you are, Em," he said.
Emily frowned and wriggled out of Burt's arms. "I'm a real good mech'nic," she insisted.
Burt surveyed his two children, sixteen years apart but still alike with their soft brown hair, thin mouths, and matching coveralls. "Well, don't just tell us you're a good mechanic, Emily Carys," he said. "Come on. Me and your brother are gonna work on this Chevy. You gonna help?"
"Yes!" Emily said, clambering onto the hood of the truck.
The three Hummels worked over several cars that day, Kurt proving himself to be just as capable as his father when it came to replacing brake pads and switching out fuel injectors. Emily ran back and forth, fetching the tools and parts they requested and sliding her tiny hands into the depths of engines where the two men couldn't reach.
Blaine drove up in the middle of the afternoon, parking his red jeep beside Kurt's car. "Hey, babe," he grinned as he strode into the garage.
Kurt shimmied out from under a Mustang. "Hi," he said, looking particularly impish with his hair ruffled and a smudge of oil across his cheek.
Blaine helped him up and kissed him lightly. "How long are you staying today?" he asked.
"Not too much longer," Kurt said, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. "I should probably take Emily back pretty soon today."
"Where is she?" Blaine asked.
"Asleep in the office," Burt said, emerging from behind an SUV. "She was a real trooper." He clapped Blaine on the shoulder. "How're you doing, bud?"
"Pretty good," Blaine said. "I came to steal your son."
"We'll take Emmy home and I'll get dinner started," Kurt said. "See you at six, Dad?"
"I'll be there," Burt said.
Kurt walked quietly into the office, Blaine tiptoeing behind him. Emily was asleep on the couch, curled up on her stomach and looking eerily like a photograph of Kurt at the same age, taken by his mother when he fell asleep on the floor of their living room.
Kurt knelt beside the couch and brushed his little sister's hair back. "Emmy," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. "Wake up, Emmybear."
Her lashes fluttered and she opened her green eyes slowly. "Kurty?" she mumbled.
"Hi, baby," Kurt said. "Come on, get up. Blaine and I are going to take you home."
"Blaine?" Emily yawned, sitting up lazily and holding up her arms. "Somebody carry me, 'kay?"
Blaine leaned over and picked her up easily. "Hi, punkin," he said. "You still sleepy?"
"Uh-huh," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "Cars make…me…tired…"
She tucked her thumb in her mouth and reached out her other hand for the top of Kurt's head, twining her fingers in his hair. "Let's go home," he smiled.
"Mmkay," Emily sighed.
Author's Notes:
Dear Santa Claus,
I have been very good this year. So for Christmas, if you could please give me a surprise Hudmel "oops we thought were too old for this and didn't use birth control" baby for season three, I would be very excited.
Love, Caitlin
PS: I would also not say no if somehow Quinn Fabray's wardrobe magically appeared in my closet. Just saying.
