When Kurt opened his eyes, he expected it to be cold. He expected the ground to be hard and wet, the melted slush soaking into his clothes. He expected for his head to throb and for his body to be in unbearable pain. It wasn't bright, why wasn't it bright? Where was the blinding winter sun or the chilling wind? Had somebody found him? Had help come? Somebody must have called for an ambulance. Somebody must have noticed him outside and called for help. Blaine, was he aware of what happened? God, where was Blaine? His poor, poor baby left all alone in the house with no explanation as to where his daddy had gone. Who knows how long it had taken him to come out of his subspace?

The idea of somebody finding Blaine in his subspace made his stomach clench. How the hell could have Blaine explained what was happening in his broken up state? All they had were themselves; Blaine, his sweet, little boy an emotional wreck and Kurt, who was still trying to figure out if he was actually still alive. It was dark, but his eyes were open so he definitely not dead or at least he hoped not. For all he knew, he could be in a coma, his actual body lying in a hospital bed somewhere while Blaine wept into his blankets. Did Blaine visit him every day? Did he bring flowers and balloons and sing to him? Had his father come, or Carol or his friends? Surely they had, knowing his father Burt would have hitchhiked his way to New York in order to see his son in a time of need.

Kurt experimentally moved his arms and legs. He felt sheets beneath him and a pillow under his head. He was wearing cotton pajamas. Clearly he wasn't in a coma, he would never dream about something so boring. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with a small groan, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Obviously his personal grooming had not been kept up as well as he'd hoped if the length of his hair told him anything, but he was in a rather forgiving mood. He just wanted to see Blaine. He knew that once he saw Blaine, everything would be okay.

Kurt reached out in the darkness and his hands made contact with wooden bars. Surprised, he pulled back. Was he in a cage? Tentatively, he stretched his arm out again, his knuckles brushing up against the finished wood. They were slippery and cold to touch and ended at a base which Kurt guessed was the bed. He trailed his fingers upward and only about a foot higher they were stopped by another beam. Kurt made a noise of astonishment and clambered to his knees. Something was wrong. He had never heard of hospital beds with side rails built this high. Could it be that he hadn't been saved, but kidnapped? He inhaled sharply and prepared to call out, but fear stopped him at the last second. What if somebody came, but it wasn't somebody he wanted? What if it was a crazy psycho kidnapper who wanted to kill him or torture him? He had to find a way out.

From the looks of the dark room he was in, it was night time, unless this room didn't actually have windows. If this was true, whoever keeping him here was probably asleep, or at least gone for the meantime. This would be his prime chance to get out and make sense of what was happening.

Kurt got to his feet, which were clad in what felt like thin socks and rested his hands on top of the rail. Beneath him, the cushy mattress moved about and he struggled to maintain balance. His legs wobbled, making him cling to the rail to keep from falling, but after a few moments, he managed to get himself under control. Luckily, he was tall enough to simply swing his leg over the rail and he thanked his countless Zumba lessons for the flexibility it required. He started moving gingerly at first, unsure of the extent of his injuries, but as he heaved himself over the railing and onto the floor below he was pleasantly shocked to find himself completely without discomfort. He took a step forward and suddenly a light flashed on, catching him by surprise and causing him to stumble back. After further examination, he found it to be a night light, probably motion sensing, and dared to continue on in search of an escape from wherever he was.

With the light's guidance, he located a door and began to hurry towards the exit. His heart pounded in his chest, eager to see his father and Carol and most of all Blaine. His precious Blaine, who probably missed him more than anything in the world. Don't worry, baby. Kurt thought to himself. I'm coming for you.

His thoughts were interrupted when he stepped on something round and hard and plastic and suddenly he was tumbling to the floor with a loud crash as the plastic object banged against the wood flooring. He cringed, knowing that unless he was completely alone in this place, it was impossible for somebody to not have heard that. Disentangling himself from the object, he scrambled away from it on his knees. Behind him, he heard the rustling of sheets and froze. Had…had somebody been in the room with him the whole time? Who?

Kurt's heart pounded as he slowly turned around to see who was making noises and slowly a dark silhouette arose from across the room. There were a few long, agonizing moments of silence and then a loud bawl that sent Kurt's heart ripping through his chest and flopping around on the floor. His mind fogged with panic of what was going on and he held his face in his hands, trying to figure out what the HELL was going on? Was he in some sick fantasy dungeon? A sex slave to be locked up in a wooden crate and forced to be tortured amongst other weeping pathetic souls?

"What's going on in here?"

The light flipped on and Kurt had to shut his eyes as the blinding flash threatened to burn his retinas. The insides of his eyelids glowed orange and he willed his pupils to hurry up so he could figure out an escape before this new arriver did something bad to him.

"Kurtie? What are you doing on the floor?"

Kurt stopped rubbing. What?

Surprisingly strong arms scooped him up off the floor and carried him across the room, setting him on something soft, probably another bed. Beside him he could hear sniffling and wondered if he was close to the one who had bawled so loudly before. Kurt opened his eyes and looked up, having to do a double take when he found himself looking straight into Sebastian's concerned gaze. "Hold on sweetheart," The man said before Kurt could even utter a word. "I'll get something to calm the both of you down." And with that he walked out of the room and disappeared down the hall.

Kurt felt his entire body deflate. At the sight of a familiar face, he felt the urge to weep along with the other person who…

"Blaine!" He gasped, scrambling over to the man and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Tears of relief welled in his eyes as he squeezed his husband's solid form. He laughed, smiling like an idiot as he cradled Blaine's tearstained face in his hands, his own cheeks becoming wet. "It's okay baby…darling…honey, oh you're okay. Daddy's here." He sniffed and smiled tearfully, kissing Blaine's forehead and leaning against him in relief.

"Look what I have!" Sebastian smiled, holding up two bottles of milk. "And Davey!"

Kurt watched in disbelief as David Karofsky and Sebastian Smythe stepped over to the bed and grabbed each of them in their arms. Suddenly, Kurt found himself securely wrapped in Dave's large arms and a rubber nipple stuck into his mouth. While he founded this rather perturbing, he wasn't as nearly as bothered as when Sebastian cradled Blaine in his own arms and began to coo while Blaine, Kurt's baby, sucked it happily. He tried to protest around the bottle, but with the rubber pressed firm against his tongue, all that managed to come out were whines and angry babbling.

"What's up with Kurtie?" Sebastian frowned as Blaine took over holding the bottle himself. "I mean, I found him on the floor near the doorway, the latch to his crib wasn't even unhinged."

"I'm not sure, but he seems pretty cranky for some reason." Dave commented, tightening his grip each time Kurt tried to wiggle out of his arms. "What's going on, sweet baby? Did you have a bad dream?"

Kurt shook his head in frustration, wondering how Dave could possibly think he could reply with that big thing in his mouth. And what was this talk of a crib? Now that he'd had a good look around in the light, it would be impossible for him to mistake his own master bedroom, but he and Blaine had never bought a crib…had they?

"Maybe he has a tummy ache." Sebastian suggested as he pulled out the front of Blaine's pull-up to peek inside. Kurt felt his defenses rise and he growled around the bottle, making Sebastian release the stretchy material in surprise.

"Man, are you rashy or something? You're pretty cranky tonight." Dave frowned. He hoisted Kurt onto his lap and seized a zipper on the front of his pajamas, tugging it all the way down to his crotch. Kurt jolted in surprise and added footie pajamas and diapers to the list of disturbing things he'd discovered in the past thirty minutes. Dave brought a hand down and gave his crotch a squeeze, making Kurt squeak in astonishment.

"Well he's wet." Dave shrugged. "I'll check for a rash when I change him." Kurt stared up at him indignantly. Sure, he'd been in a wet diaper before, during his and Blaine's experimental years, but clearly he was the daddy for a reason. Now with Dave laying him down on their padded changing table, Kurt had to wonder what the hell these two men thought they were doing and how it had even come to be. Finally free of Dave's overpowering hold, Kurt pushed the baby bottle aside, but the second he opened his mouth, a pacifier was shoved into its place.

"Just relax, precious." Dave smiled, stroking Kurt's hair like some sort of gentle giant. "I'll make it all better." Now that Kurt had nowhere to look but up, he was surprised to see how disheveled Dave looked. They must have been woken up, so that meant it had to be very late.

"Blaine's getting better, he this is the third night in a row he's woken up dry." Sebastian commentated from the bed. At the same time, Dave was pressing a cold wipe to his bare privates, so he's not sure which one made him jerk, but he felt his chest filling with anger. What did these two think they were doing messing up their hard work? It had taken months to get Blaine wetting at night! He spat out the pacifier and didn't have a chance to utter a single vowel before the pacifier was pushed back in. His face grew red with aggravation and he made a low guttural sound around the pacifier, glaring up at Dave. What the fuck was going on? Why were these two men in their house playing their private game? Why was Sebastian touching Blaine and feeding him and touching his diapers? More importantly, why was Blaine letting them? What the hell had happened?