Hello everyone! I hope you are having a lovely Saturday.

Thank you all very much for the amazing reviews you sent after chapter 5. Hopefully you will enjoy 6 too :)

I own nothing!

Kurt looked down at the paper in his hand to check the apartment number for the millionth time. He could recite Blaine Anderson's address by heart at this point, but he still checked.

He was nervous. He didn't know why.

Professor Anderson had asked him to come over to his apartment so they could talk. Kurt knew the job was his for the taking, but he was still anxious about what this little meeting would be about. What if Max cried non-stop as soon as he saw him? Professor Anderson would clearly withdraw the offer, and Kurt would be stuck serving coffee in the world's most obnoxious uniform.

He got off the subway and adjusted his scarf around his neck before venturing out of the station and into the cold. December was drawing closer and closer, and the snow was becoming thicker and thicker.

Mr. Anderson lived in a lovely four-story building near Bryant Park. Even though it was in Manhattan, his street wasn't as noisy, and it looked like a nice neighborhood to raise a kid.

Kurt pressed the small golden button for apartment 2-6. It only took a moment before Mr. Anderson's voice sounded through the speakers.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Mr. Anderson! It's Kurt!" He said, trying to sound enthusiastic, instead of nervous. He noticed he was screaming a little, so he cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. "Sorry, I'm a little early."

"No problem, Kurt. Come in!" Mr. Anderson said, and buzzed him in.

Professor Anderson was waiting with his door open when Kurt came out of the elevator. He had Max in his arms, wrapped in a towel, his thin soft hair still wet.

"Hi," Kurt said, a little timidly. "Did I interrupt bath time?"

"We were just finishing up, right, Max?" Mr. Anderson said, as he bounced Max a little in his arms. "Come in, Kurt. How are you?"

Kurt walked into the apartment. "I'm good, Mr. Anderson. How are you?"

The living room was a decent size, decorated in shades of blue, with a comfy couch and a big television. There were many bookcases filled with books, and a box of toys in the corner. Most of the picture frames displayed Max's face, but there were a few where Kurt could see a man and a woman, holding each other, big smiles on their faces. One quick glance at the man's face told him he was Max's dad: those big blue eyes were unmistakable.

"Honestly, I'm happy you said yes," Mr. Anderson chuckled. "I was starting to go insane. Thank you for agreeing to come over on a Saturday. I'm sure you had better things to do."

"It's no problem. I had nothing planned, and I have the evening shift at Starbucks today," Kurt shrugged. He followed Mr. Anderson into another room, which turned out to be Max's. The walls were plain white, and the furniture was placed like it was put there in some sort of hurry. It was clear Mr. Anderson had never bothered decorating the kid's room, and Kurt wondered why.

"Let me get this little guy dressed, and then we can have some coffee and talk, okay?" Mr. Anderson said.

"Sure, that sounds good," Kurt replied, and stood there awkwardly, not sure if he was supposed to leave the room or not. He watched as Professor Anderson got a diaper from one of the drawers in the changing table. "You should probably know I have never in my life changed a diaper."

"Neither had I, until Max came to live with me," Professor Anderson admitted. He looked over his shoulder at him. "Would you like to give it a shot?"

Kurt approached the changing table, where Max was laying with all his limbers in the air. Mr. Anderson was keeping him in place with a hand on his belly, to make sure he didn't roll off the table.

"It's not as easy as when he was three or four months old," Mr. Anderson explained. He handed Kurt the clean diaper. "Now he's older, knows how to move better, has more strength… and basically doesn't want you to put the diaper on him."

Kurt remembered seeing in a movie that you had to grab the baby's feet and raise them to slide the diaper under their butt. He tried that, and Max kicked his hand.

"That's good, you just have to get a firm grip on him," Mr. Anderson said, and when Kurt tried again, this time he did it right. "It's good you arrived just as he was done with his bath. This is nicer practice than it would have been with a dirty diaper."

Kurt scrunched his nose. "I guess that as long as you're nicer to me than those horrible women who throw coffee at me at my other job, you and I will be just fine, Max."

Mr. Anderson turned to look at him. "They throw coffee at you?"

"It doesn't happen all that often, but yeah. It happened right before I texted you, actually. I made the mistake of using whole milk in an order that was supposed to be a skinny latte, and the lady threw the whole thing on me." Kurt adjusted the diaper carefully.

"Kurt, that's awful," Mr. Anderson said, appalled. "What did you do?"

"I swallowed my anger, my pride and my frustration, I apologized to her for the mistake and made her a new drink on the house," Kurt replied. "There wasn't anything else I could do, really."

"Well, Max might spit milk on you every now and then, so it's good to know you have the patience for it," Mr. Anderson said with a smile. "But I'm still sorry you have to take that kind of thing from people. It's not right."

"I've had worse," Kurt murmured, distracted, and then gave a little cry of joy. "Yes! I did it! Look."

"You're a natural," Mr. Anderson grinned.

After Max was dressed, Mr. Anderson took him to the living room and sat him on a blanket on the floor. Max immediately crawled towards his box of toys and started emptying its contents.

"Would you mind watching him for a moment?" Professor Anderson asked. "I'll go make some coffee and we can talk."

"Sure, go ahead," Kurt answered, and as Mr. Anderson disappeared into the kitchen, he dropped down on the floor next to Max, who smiled broadly and handed him an action figure. "Thanks, sweetie. Who is this?"

He made one-sided small talk with Max until Mr. Anderson returned carrying a tray with two cups of coffee, sugar, milk and cream.

"I don't know how you take it, so I brought a little bit of everything," he said, as he sat on the couch. He smiled when he saw Kurt was sitting on the floor. "I see you two are getting acclimated already."

"Oh Max was telling me a fascinating story about this superhero, who's in love with that teddy bear over there, but their love can never be, because Teddy has been promised to Miss Bunny since they were children…" Kurt said, and Max laughed as if he had understood every word. Mr. Anderson chuckled as well.

"I would ask how you even come up with that stuff, but I have been reading your papers for several semesters already," Mr. Anderson said, as Kurt joined him on the couch. "You're a very creative person, Kurt. Have you thought about writing for a living?"

Kurt put some milk in his coffee. "I have, but not fictional work. I hope to end up working for a fashion magazine one day. I've sent my résumé to about a hundred, but no one seemed interested." He did his best not to sound too disappointed in himself. It was difficult.

"Well, I've heard the fashion world is pretty cut-throat. You just need patience and dedication, and I'm sure it'll work out sooner or later," Mr. Anderson said, watching Max, who was crawling towards his box of toys.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Kurt replied, halfheartedly. "But I guess this kind of works out for your benefit and mine."

"It really does," Mr. Anderson nodded. "Did you bring your schedule?"

"I did," Kurt said, and grabbed his bag to search for it. "I actually included my hours at Starbucks, but I'm working almost full time there now, covering for coworkers and picking up extra shifts. I could cut back on that, or even give it up entirely, depending on what you had in mind."

Mr. Anderson studied Kurt's schedule in silence for a moment. "The good thing is your classes don't coincide with any of mine, except for Modern Lit, of course. But my friend Sam is available at that time; he's been taking care of Max for me these past couple of weeks. But some of your shifts do match with my work schedule…" He frowned for a moment, then looked up at Kurt, slightly worried. "I don't want you to feel forced to give up that job if you don't want to."

"Well, Mr. Anderson…" Kurt started, but he interrupted him.

"Kurt, please call me Blaine. Mr. Anderson sounds weird in my own house," he said gently.

"Blaine," Kurt tried it out. It felt a little weird. "To be honest, if the offer you made when we talked on the phone yesterday is still on the table… that was more than what I earn at both of my jobs combined."

"Taking care of a kid is a bigger responsibility than making coffee," Blaine said, his golden eyes fixed on Kurt. "You should see that reflected on a paycheck. And I think I mentioned how important Max is to me. I don't want to leave him with any random nannies he doesn't like just because they are available. You would need to sacrifice your current job, but I already know how great you are with him. I'm willing to pay for that peace of mind."

Kurt looked down at his schedule for a moment. He had been at Starbucks for years now. It wasn't an ideal job and there were times when he couldn't wait to walk out that door and never walk back in. Sometimes he was so frustrated that he wanted to give up coffee altogether, before he remembered he would actually murder people without caffeine. But he liked some of his coworkers and his supervisor had been nice to him. It had helped him pay the bills for a long time now. He couldn't exactly complain.

But what Mr. Anderson – Blaine – was offering…

"Of course, whenever Max is asleep or playing or doesn't need you, you can bring your schoolwork, or read a book, or watch the television," Blaine was starting to sound desperate now. "You can feel at home here. I don't work on weekends, so you'd have Saturdays and Sundays off. I would rarely need you on week nights…"

Kurt decided to put him out of his misery. "Mr. Anderson… I mean, Blaine, like I said the other day, I'm in. You don't have to worry. I'll see what I can do about Starbucks, but if I have to quit, I'll quit."

Blaine had been holding his breath, and quickly deflated in relief when he heard Kurt's words. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

"I know," Kurt said quietly. "It means a lot that you thought of me, too."

They were silent for a moment, both revealing in the peace it brought them to have come upon a solution for their problems. Kurt couldn't wait to tell Rachel and his dad all about it. They would finally stop worrying so much.

As they finished their coffee, they worked out a schedule that was perfect for the both of them. Then, Blaine gave him a quick tour of the apartment, so he would know where everything he needed was. The only room where Max wasn't allowed in was Blaine's office, which was a mess of ungraded papers piled up on the desk.

"I should get to those," Blaine said. "It's hard to do any grading when Max demands so much attention. I usually have to wait until he falls asleep, and then I can barely read two or three before I'm falling asleep."

Kurt was currently holding Max, who seemed absolutely fascinated with his green cashmere scarf. "Okay, how about this? I can distract Max for, let's say, two hours, so you can work a little. And it'll work as some sort of practice before I have to be alone with him."

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked. He glanced at Max and then at his undone work. "I don't want to keep you on a Saturday…"

"I think I'll benefit from some practice, to be honest," Kurt said, shrugging. "If I have any questions about where something is, or about something Max needs, it's better if I have you here, than if I suddenly have a question and you're at work."

Blaine sighed. "I'm loving this decision of hiring you already. Thanks, Kurt. That sounds perfect."

So Blaine went into his office, and let the door ajar so he could listen to Kurt if he needed anything. Kurt went back to the living room and sat with Max on the floor again, and they played for a while before Max started becoming more and more crabby.

"What's wrong, little guy?" Kurt asked him, picking him up. "Are you hungry? Is that what it is?"

Max made a gurgling noise, almost like a protest.

"That means he's hungry!" Blaine exclaimed from his office.

Kurt chuckled under his breath. "Looks like your Uncle Blaine is eavesdropping on our conversation, Max."

It was almost lunch time, so Kurt went into the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. Blaine had showed him the stack of pre-made food he had already available. He grabbed a plastic container marked as "Saturday - Lunch", and put it in the microwave.

He thought about Mr. Anderson as he put Max in his highchair, and about the stack of containers in the fridge. It looked like Mr. Anderson - Blaine - spent every available second on making sure Max's needs were satisfied. He knew that was the kind of thing a parent did, but in which point did it stop being healthy for the parent, or in this case, guardian?

And most importantly, who was making sure that Blaine was safe and happy, too?

The silence that reigned in the apartment while Max enjoyed (and made a mess of) his meal seemed to be all the answer he needed.

For the first time on the semester, Blaine was early for work on Monday. So early, in fact, that he had time to stop by the cafeteria. With two coffee cups in hand, Blaine headed to Sam's office, in the far side of campus.

When he walked in, Sam was speaking on the phone. He made a gesture that Blaine interpreted as a hasty invitation to take a seat. He put Sam's coffee in front of him, and savored his own as he waited.

"I promise. It won't be a waste of your time," Sam was saying earnestly. "This kid is a freaking star. You should see him on the court. He can throw from one end to the other and make it every single time."

Blaine smiled into his coffee. So it was a scout Sam was talking to. Blaine had always loved the way Sam cared about his students, about their futures, how he always did his best to make sure they had a shot at what they loved.

"Great. I'll see you on Friday. You won't regret it," Sam said, before ending the call. He looked at Blaine with a smile. "Hey buddy! What are you doing here?"

Blaine shrugged. "Had some time to kill before my class and I thought you'd want some coffee. Was that the scout for the kid you told me about the other day?"

"Yeah, Collins. He's coming to the basketball game on Friday. You should come, it's going to be awesome," Sam replied, leaning back against his seat and studying Blaine carefully. "Why do you look different?"

Blaine frowned. "What do you mean?" He raised his hand to his hair, suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no, it's not a haircut. There's something about your face…" Sam narrowed his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Blaine sipped some more coffee. "You're imagining things."

"I think you look less tired. Did you have a good weekend?" Sam asked.

"It was completely ordinary. But I did sleep better," Blaine shrugged again. "I finally fixed my Babysitting Situation."

"Oh, that's great, man! Did you contact a new agency?"

Blaine told Sam how he had figured out how to help Kurt Hummel and find a solution to his problem, at the same time. He told him about Kurt coming over on Saturday to talk things through, about how wonderful he had been with Max. He told him how he had gone to bed feeling a little lighter - he still had a lot to deal with, but knowing Max was safe with someone who took care of him while Blaine couldn't be there himself made things a lot easier.

"It's great, you know," Sam said afterwards. "What you're doing for this kid, I mean. You're paying him a lot more than any other nanny or babysitter in this town is making these days."

"He needed a good break. No one that age should struggle the way he did, all to help his family. He's a great guy. He deserves it," Blaine answered. He had never had to care all that much about money - he came from a pretty wealthy family, and he was doing more than okay for himself. Cooper and Sarah had also left him and Max everything they owned, so Max's needs would be covered for several years to come. It was the only area in his life where he could call himself beyond lucky - and he would have given all that financial comfort away if it meant it brought him his brother back.

Sam smiled. "You know, I think you made a really good decision here."

Blaine, who felt a lot calmer than he had in months, had to agree. "I really think so too."

Please review and let me know what you think! I'm having the worst writer's block, so that would surely motivate me!

Have a great week and I'll see you again on Saturday!

Love,

L.-