Water could be heard running in the kitchen as Blaine headed towards the hallway, and the shadow he saw possessed curly hair, so it was no surprise to him when he rounded the corner and saw his daughter finishing the after-dinner dishes. She was still clearly irritated about it, and didn't bother to wipe the pout off her face as Blaine approached. It was hard to deny that Liz was adorable when she was upset, as her round face made her look like a doll. The braces that she had also made her lips stick out a bit, and when she smiled, her eyes crinkled up and her nose scrunched in the cutest way. Even when she was angry, Blaine thought that Liz was precious.
And she hated it.
She hated it when people said she looked 'cute'. She didn't want to look cute, she wanted to look like a force to be reckoned with! And she was, she had taken self-defense classes for many years, so she could handle herself quite well. She had the advantage of being unsuspecting, so she could use the element of surprise when needed. No one thought that a little girl could beat them senseless. And then, they would be doubled-over in pain. It was Lizzie's secret weapon.
She was furiously scrubbing a stained bowl, splashing soap and water all over the sink, when Blaine approached her, grabbing a dish towel off the counter.
"You want me to help dry?"
Lizzie turned to look at him, clearly tired, a stray curl hanging in her face. "Yes, please."
It was silent for about five minutes as she finished the dishes, with nothing but the sound of running water and clinking dishes echoing off the kitchen walls. For someone who had such precision while fighting, Blaine thought it endearing that Lizzie was so clumsy most of the time. Of course, clumsy wasn't the best thing to be when washing things that are easily broken. Blaine was putting a bowl back in the cupboard when he heard a swear, followed by a wet clatter. He immediately closed the cupboard door to see a plastic cup on the floor, and his daughter covered in soapy water. After stifling a laugh, Blaine handed the dish towel to Lizzie, who now looked as though she was ready to explode.
"You can leave the rest for me, if you want."
"I'll do them tomorrow morning."
"Before school?"
"... If you want to do the rest of the dishes, I would really appreciate it."
"That's the answer I wanted. Now, go to bed. Like I said, you have school tomorrow, and it's almost nine thirty."
"That's not that late, Papa."
"For kids, it is. Bed, now." Blaine ushered his disheveled offspring out the door with a hug and a 'Good night, love you.' Before Liz had a chance to leave, Blaine suddenly remembered their conversation on the subway that morning.
"How was school today?" Blaine knew that his daughter was a complaint machine if she had a bad day, and there had been nothing of the sort since he got home. Liz stopped in her tracks, dropped her head, and sighed.
"It was fine." she mumbled. Blaine cracked a grin.
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
She spun around, clearly trying to be intimidating. Seeing as how she began laughing halfway through her statement, she wasn't successful. "It was fine, you were right!" Lizzie's nose scrunched up as she flashed Blaine with a metal smile, sticking her tongue out.
"I'm sorry, who was right?"
"You were!" With this, Lizzie spun back around dramatically, and marched off to bed. Blaine giggled to himself as he finished the dishes. He was happy that, at the moment, it seemed like Liz had found a school that she felt comfortable in. He wished he could say the same for Michael, who had been struggling at P.S./I.S. 905 for two years at that point. He always seemed to manage just fine, but he wasn't winning any popularity contests. Still, Michael was proud of his abilities and had two good friends, so that put Blaine's mind at ease, if only for a little while. Hazel and Peter were wonderful (if not a bit eccentric), but Michael felt comfortable around them.
As Blaine was drying his hands, he heard an odd vocalization come from the floor. He looked down to see Tracy lying at his feet, looking up at him with big, brown eyes. He could tell that she was trying to beg for more food (or possibly attention, it was hard to tell). Blaine knelt to the floor and began scratching behind her ear, and the dog tilted her head back and gifted him a goofy smile, tongue hanging out. Soon enough, Blaine was rubbing her stomach as she laid on her back, paws dangling in the air. He had gotten Tracy about a year after Michael had been moved in, and she had been just the thing that they all needed to get back in the swing of normal life. While everyone in the family treated her as theirs, technically, Tracy was Blaine's therapy dog. Even after Kurt had made a full recovery, Blaine was still having nightmares, and had some trouble adjusting to normal life again. He couldn't seem to convince himself that Kurt was healthy, he was always so obsessed over worrying about his husband. Luckily, through a bit of therapy and medication (and puppy love), Blaine slowly, but surely, managed to get a grip on himself, and start truly feeling comfortable again. Still, there were rare instances of Blaine having an episode, or a freak nightmare, but it was so that Blaine knew how to calm himself down after said instances, if Kurt or Tracy wasn't nearby. He was thankful to still have Kurt at all, looking back on how many times he could have lost him.
The laughing started as a small chuckle, then snickering, then a full on, stomach-aching laugh. He sat on the floor, and Tracy got up to smother him, which led to Blaine being forced to the floor. His glasses were almost pushed off his face as the golden retriever attacked him with kisses, and he thought that he might die from air loss for a good few seconds. Then, as though an angel had been sent to rescue him, Blaine heard a soft voice.
"Tracy, come."
The dog retreated from atop Blaine, and he adjusted his glasses to see Kurt standing in the kitchen doorway. He was in pajamas, at that point, sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Tracy ventured over to him and leaned her full body weight against him, causing Kurt to groan softly.
"Lay down."
Tracy soon disappeared into the living room, and Kurt returned his attention to Blaine, who was still sprawled on the floor. He smiled warmly, nose scrunching up the same way that Blaine saw Elizabeth's do before she went to bed.
"Need a hand, honey?" Kurt extended his arm and helped Blaine off the floor. They both stumbled as Blaine regained his footing, and Kurt leaned on the counter to keep steady.
As Blaine steadied himself, as well, he noticed that Kurt was wearing one of his old t-shirts. It had always been far too big for him. However, it fit Kurt like a glove, which made Blaine a bit jealous. Kurt caught Blaine staring, and said,
"I'm sorry, it was clean, and I don't have any more old shirts to wear for pajamas…" This was followed by a sheepish smile. Blaine adored the soft way that Kurt spoke when he was tired.
"Don't you have actual pajamas that you can wear? Like, professional sets of silk PJ's?" Blaine tugged at the hem of the shirt, noticing that there was a new hole that had joined the three other ones.
"You know as well as I do that children and pets make messes and ruin good clothes…"
Blaine counteracted, "All three of them are old enough to not make stupid messes anymore. Plus, Tracy and Fester are trained."
"You can never be too careful…"
Blaine hummed contentedly, moving his hands to rest on Kurt's hips, his right index finger trailing underneath the old shirt and stroking bare skin. "I love it when you're all responsible."
This utterance had the opposite effect as to what Blaine was expecting. Rather than Kurt playing along, he started laughing, much to Blaine's chagrin. Once Kurt had calmed himself down, he explained,
"That was the saddest attempt at seduction that's ever come out of you. And that's a really low bar." Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders. Despite his cheesy words, Blaine still received a kiss, which soon turned into Kurt leaning fully against the counter as Blaine leaned into him. He sucked on Kurt's lower lip, earning a quiet groan from the taller man. As soon as Blaine could feel Kurt's tongue begin to slip into his mouth-
"Uh…"
They broke apart and whipped their heads around to see Michael, sporting an uncomfortable poker face. The thirteen-year-old looked like death warmed over.
"Hey, why aren't you in bed, buddy?" asked Blaine.
Awkward silence. "Well, now I wish I'd stayed in bed. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get water from the bathroom, instead."
Kurt was quick to stop him. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? You look sick, why are you up this late? You feeling okay?"
"Jesus, I just wanted water! I mean, after seeing that, maybe bleach is a better option…"
"Very funny. Seriously, you sure you're alright?" Kurt asked once more.
Michael sucked his teeth, still red in the face, and dodged his father's question. "Nevermind. Goodnight, love you."
Before Kurt and Blaine could protest, Michael slipped out of the kitchen and back to his room. Blaine sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You think he had another nightmare?"
"No, Luke would have told us already."
Blaine continued, "He's had his flu shot this year, right?"
"He has, yeah."
"You think it could be a cold? Or strep?"
Kurt, looking just as exasperated as Blaine felt, answered. "Maybe. We'll see what he looks like tomorrow."
Kurt's reassuring attitude put Blaine's mind at ease, if only a little bit. While it may have been easy to see if their son was upset, getting him to tell them why was like wrestling a bear. It baffled them as to how a teenager (barely) was able to poker-face them so well. Blaine thought that Michael had learned it from Kurt, thought Kurt passionately disagreed with this.
The interruption had baffled and concerned them, so after cleaning for a short while, both Kurt and Blaine headed to bed. On their way to their room, they could see light coming from Lizzie's room, underneath the door. While Kurt continued on his way, Blaine broke off and knocked softly, saying,
"It's way past your bedtime. You can finish that book tomorrow. Goodnight, love you."
Silence, a small "Love you, too", then the light was shut off.
Blaine sighed, then went to join Kurt in their room. With every step that he took, the floorboards creaked beneath him, no doubt irritating their downstairs neighbors. The sounds of thunder had been replaced with the whistling of a cool breeze. Well, cool for early September. The air conditioner was still going full blast, and very faintly, water could be heard running to Blaine's left. The sound was coming from the half-bathroom attached to their room, and since Kurt was nowhere to be seen, Blaine assumed that he was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed.
Wait.
After a brief moment of putting two and two together, and feeling slightly betrayed, Blaine swept across the room and knocked on the bathroom door. The water stopped running, and the wooden door opened to reveal Kurt, holding a tube of moisturizer. He raised an eyebrow, challenging Blaine.
"What?"
Knowing that his concern was justified, Blaine responded, "You usually do your routine after we have sex."
"And who says we're going to have sex?" Kurt turned towards the mirror with a coy smile, opening the moisturizer. Blaine was now doubly indignant.
"You did, earlier today!" At this point, Blaine almost didn't care about the sex (almost), and now he was more pressed about Kurt going back on his word. He felt a laugh building in his stomach, and he was struggling not to lose his composure. Blaine had a feeling that Kurt was joking, but he wanted to win the argument, regardless.
Kurt shot back, "I have no recollection of that."
"You're evil."
"You love me!" Cue another coy smile.
"I do, but you're evil!" Blaine was now fighting not to laugh. Kurt saw this, and dropped his facade, putting his moisturizer on the sink.
"I'm kidding, Blaine." Kurt closed the medicine cabinet, and exited the bathroom. "I can do my routine afterwards. But, can we make it quick? I'm kinda tired."
"Anything for you, honey."