Who thinks these two need to meet?
Can we please talk about the AU future!fic idea this just gave me, of Kurt and Blaine’s children falling in love with each other in grade school and bringing Klaine together?
“Dad,” Elliot began, his voice solemn and far too adult-like for a cherub-faced boy of seven years old. “I have something important to tell you.”
Kurt put his fork down beside his plate, dabbing a napkin at the corner of his mouth before speaking. “Okay. What’s up, Ell?”
Elliot drew in a deep, heaving breath before speaking again; his words rushing out on an exhale. “Ihaveagirlfriend.”
Kurt’s eyebrows shot up, but he quickly reigned in the laugh that threatened to burst from his chest. “Oh?” he said, his voice a little higher than normal.
“Yes.” Elliot’s expression was still stone-serious. Kurt bit the inside of his bottom lip as hard as he could stand to stop himself from grinning. “Her name is Maya. She’s the smartest girl in my class.”
“Well, that’s very impressive, Ell.” Kurt was already etching the moment into his permanent memory, placing it alongside countless other warm memories the two had made over the years together — his son, at the ripe age of seven, telling his father about his first girlfriend over a quiet Friday night dinner. “Congratulations.”
“I-it’s okay, right?” Elliot’s voice faltered for the first time; truer to his normally shy demeanor. “If I have a girlfriend? Instead of boyfriends like you?”
Kurt’s face softened immediately. “Oh, Ell.” He reached across their tiny kitchen table and held his son’s freckled hand, still chubby with baby fat and sticky from his day at school. “You can like whoever you want to like. I don’t care if it’s boys or girls, as long as you’re always happy.”
Elliot cocked his head, considering Kurt’s words for a few moments before nodding curtly. “Okay,” he said, pausing to take an enormous bite of his pasta, and Kurt once again had to hide his smile over how quickly kids could shift from one emotion to another. Elliot chewed and swallowed purposefully, then spoke again. “I invited her to the parade tomorrow. It’s, like, a…a date.”
“Oh, did you now?” Kurt was truly surprised at that. “What do Maya’s mommy and daddy think about her going to the pride parade?”
Elliot’s sky blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “She doesn’t have a mommy. She’s just like me!”
“I’m sorry, Maya. We can’t go to the parade tomorrow.” Blaine’s words were muffled by the refrigerator he had his upper body buried in, rummaging through leftovers in search of anything edible to serve his daughter for dinner. “Daddy has to be at the theatre at noon for his show. You know how important Daddy’s musical is.”
Blaine let out a tiny aha! when he found the remnants of the chicken he’d made two afternoons ago, hidden behind juice boxes and yogurt cups and dozens of packs of string cheese. When he pulled himself from the fridge, Tupperware of chicken in hand, he was met with his daughter’s famous pout – one of epic proportions. “Maya…”
“Please, Daddy!” Maya looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I really really wanna go. I told Elly we’d be there.”
Maya instantly blushed; her golden tan cheeks reddening to a perfect pink hue. “My boyfriend,” she whispered, dropping her hazel eyes to the floor and swinging her upper body back and forth in that nervous, girly way she always did when she was about to burst with excitement over something.
Blaine nearly dropped the container to the floor. He managed to slide it onto the counter before crouching down to meet his daughter at eye level. “Wait. Your what?”
“My boyfriend.” Maya spared a glance up at her father through long, dark lashes that always reminded Blaine of a fairytale princess, spun in dreams and fantasies and certainly not standing before him as his own flesh and blood. “He asked me on a date to the parade. He’s going with his daddy.”
“Okay. Hold up.” Blaine held a hand in the air as he stood up, leaning back against the kitchen counter and cracking open the lid of the container to reach for a piece of chicken. “Your boyfriend – we’ll leave that one alone for the moment – your boyfriend invited you on a date to the gay pride parade. With his dad.”
“Uh huh.” Maya eyed the chicken that Blaine popped into his mouth, and Blaine offered her the next piece he snagged, wincing a little when he realized he was feeding his daughter cold chicken for dinner. Another night, another meal on the fly. “He said he and his daddy go every year.”
“Yup! His daddy is just like you!” She grinned up at him, bright-eyed and innocent, and Blaine wondered if he would ever stop falling in love with his daughter.
“Just like me, huh?”
Maya nodded, her head bobbing up and down exaggeratedly as she chewed noisily on chicken.
“And where are you supposed to meet…Elly?”
“Fifth and eighth!” she chirped, holding out a tiny hand for another piece of chicken. “At nine o’clock.”
“Nine o…” Blaine cut himself off with a sigh. “Are you going to get up that early? That’s a long train ride from here.”
“Yes, yes!” Maya jumped up and down, sending her pale purple skirt billowing around her brown knees. “I promise, Daddy! Please!”
This is how it starts, Blaine thought wryly as he eyed his daughter’s pleading stare, her plump hands curled together in tight prayer. Getting me to take her on dates when she’s only seven. Soon enough she’s going to be asking me to take her to Tiffany’s.
“We can only stay a little while,” Blaine warned. “When I say we have to go, we have to go. Daddy can’t be late for work.”
Maya squealed and threw her arms around Blaine’s legs. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou, Daddy!” She pressed a noisy kiss against his dark denim pants before turning and running through the living room to her bedroom.
“Hey!” Blaine called after her. “Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t even had dinner.”
“I have to pick out something to wear, Daddy!” came Maya’s muffled voice from her bedroom.
Blaine shook his head, rubbing a palm over his tired eyes and chuckling as he reached for another piece of cold chicken.
“What do you think about this one, Dad?” Elliot was breathless as he popped into Kurt’s doorframe; a black top hat perched on his head. His chestnut hair poked out from under the brim, splaying messily across his forehead.
“You look fantastic, Ell!” Kurt dropped his jacket to his bed as he complimented his son, keeping his tone light to counter-balance the young boy’s obvious nerves. He reached out and brushed Elliot’s bangs to the side with his thumb; the absent gesture briefly sending his thoughts back to his high school days, ten long years ago, when he was still a guarded, Midwestern teenager, brushing his own hair away with a dainty thumb.
Still in the closet. Still trying to pretend he liked girls. Just before he made what would end up being the most blessed accident of his life.
“Here, let me help you with those sleeves.” Kurt kneeled in front of Elliot and tugged on the cuffs of his button down, folding them neatly over the wrists of his gray jacket. “There! Perfect.”
Kurt sat back on his heels and admired his son’s ensemble: from his hat to his skinny green tie to his favorite indigo jeans, worn and faded around the knees from hours running in the park. Elliot may not have inherited his sexual orientation, Kurt thought with a satisfied nod. But damn if his son didn’t take after his shrewd sense of style.
“I especially love those laces,” Kurt said, tapping a finger against the neon green shoelaces threaded through Elliot’s tan suede shoes. “You ready to go?”
“Uh huh.” Without another word, Elliot clasped Kurt’s hand in his and started pulling him through the door.
“Wait, wait!” Kurt exclaimed, stopping Elliot and reaching back to his bed to snatch his jacket. “Boy, I’ve never seen you so excited!”
“You’ll see, Dad.” When Elliot grabbed Kurt’s hand again, Kurt let his son haul him out of the bedroom toward the front door. “She’s the most beautiful girl in the whole world.”
“How do I look, Daddy?” Maya asked as she suddenly twirled into the center of the living room. The skirt of her green dress trailed in the air around her, offering a peek of the pink leopard print on the fabric under the hem.
“Like the most beautiful girl in the entire universe,” Blaine answered automatically, his voice still thick and rough from sleep.
Maya giggled. “That’s what you always say!”
“Well, it’s always true!” Blaine took another sip of his coffee, eyeing his daughter over the steam rising up from the mug in his hand. “Why the green dress?”
“Because,” she started in a worldly tone that clearly meant to convey Blaine should know better. “That’s Elly’s favorite color!”
“Oh. Sorry.” Blaine held one hand up in the air in defense as he took another swig from his mug. “You need to put a sweater on over that before we leave.”
“I knoowww.” Maya rushed over to the hall closet and yanked out a sweater – her favorite sweater, pink with big bell sleeves and a loose-knit crochet pattern, sent over from Italy or Spain or wherever Santana was roaming when she happened to briefly remember she had a daughter.
Maya wrapped the soft fabric around her body, expertly sticking her arms into the sleeves before flipping her hands under the collar, sending a wild mass of curly, caramel hair into the air behind her. “Okay, all ready!”
“Jeez, Maya, I’m not even done with my coffee yet. Sit down for a few minutes, would you?” Blaine ran a hand through the mop of sleep-mussed curls at the top of his head. It was days like this when he wondered how he had any hair left at all, after clumsily chasing around his precocious daughter for the past seven years.
“We can’t be late!”
“We won’t. It’s only seven o’clock.” Blaine reached for his iPad, lying on the cushion at the end of the couch. “Here,” he said, flipping through to the morning’s New York Times. He stretched out an arm and caught Maya’s hand, pulling her down to the couch beside him. “Read.”
He thrust the iPad into her lap, placing a peck on top of her head and inhaling deeply. Her hair still smelled impossibly sweet from her bath the night before – like strawberries and candy and little girl.
“I love you, baby,” Blaine mumbled into her hair.
“Okay, okay!” He eased himself up with a groan and staggered toward the bathroom, stopping halfway to look back one last time at the cozy image of his daughter, curled into the corner of the couch, swaddled in pretty pink and warm morning sunlight.
Grinning in spite of himself, Blaine stumbled into the bathroom and turned the faucet on full blast. Something told him he’d need to be refreshed for whatever they had ahead of them that morning.
Elliot fidgeted uncomfortably as he stood on the sidewalk, scrutinizing the face of each person who walked past his silent post. They’d been there, on the leafy corner of Fifth Avenue and Eighth Street, since eight thirty-seven; exactly sixteen minutes by Kurt’s count. Kurt shifted from one Converse-clad foot to the other, sending up a grateful sigh that the day had dawned unseasonably cool for June.
“What if she doesn’t come?” Elliot finally asked at eight fifty-six, his childish voice just rising over the din of taxis and passers-by.
“Well,” Kurt started slowly, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. “If she doesn’t come, then we’ll still have fun watching the parade, right? Like we always do?”
Kurt’s heart fell when Elliot looked up at him; his blue eyes an ocean of sadness. Kurt squeezed his hand for support before offering him a little smirk. “Okay. If she doesn’t come, then we can go eat cheesecake for lunch and talk about how much girls stink,” he whispered conspiratorially, earning the tiniest smile from his son.
“But I know she’ll show up,” Kurt continued as he glanced up and down the sidewalk. It was still early in the morning; their chosen spot far down the parade path from its starting point near the Empire State Building. But a lively, rainbow-hued crowd was slowly, surely growing around them with each passing moment.
“Yup,” Kurt said with a firm nod. “How could anyone ever leave you waiting?” He smiled down at his son, soaking up all of Elliot’s childish hope and faith and clutching it tightly in his chest, just as he held Elliot’s small hand in his own. Kurt wouldn’t let the two of them feel lost, or lonely, or small; not today in this throng of people, not in their lives, not ever. He simply kept watching for a mystery man and his beautiful daughter to emerge from the masses and walk straight toward them, like flowers sprouting from the dirt and grime and hectic city bustle.
“You said Maya doesn’t have a mom, either?” Kurt asked, absently toying with the rainbow feather brooch pinned to the chest of his black vest.
Elliot shook his head. “Her mom left when she was a baby. She ran away to…um…” he trailed off, biting down on a single fingernail the way he did when he couldn’t recall something important. “I don’t remember where she said. But now she just has a dad.”
“Oh. I thought you meant her dad was…” Kurt shook his head, mentally cursing himself for letting his mind wander in such a silly direction. “Never mind.”
“Excuse me! Excuse me!”
“Maya, don’t be rude!” Blaine called from behind, shooting apologetic looks through the dimly lit subway station at the people she’d shrilly shouted at. “You’re going to run into the wrong person one of these days and get us both killed, I swear to god,” he muttered to himself as he gripped her hand tighter.
“I said excuse me!” Maya retorted, pulling Blaine up the stairs to the sun-drenched world at street level. “They’re walkin’ too slow!”
Blaine rolled his eyes. Santana may have been completely absent from Maya’s life, but some days it wasn’t hard to guess who’d contributed the other half of his daughter’s genes.
There were people milling about everywhere on the sidewalks: tourists and locals alike, dressed in suits and Speedos, wedding gowns and itty bitty denim cutoffs and outfits Blaine couldn’t even begin to describe – quintessential New York, doused in a spectrum of sparkle and color. Maya wove them through the crowds, blind to every spectacle. “Fifth, Sixth, Seventh…” she counted aloud as they strode down city blocks until they finally reached their destination.
“That’s him, Daddy! There’s Elly!”
Blaine’s gaze followed the brown finger Maya pointed across the street until his eyes fell on a pale-skinned, expertly dressed boy standing solemnly on the opposite corner. Blaine stifled an amused chuckle when he noticed the boy’s towering top hat, shading part of his face from the bright summer sun.
Blaine let his eyes wander down to the boy’s hand, which was clasped tightly in a larger, equally milky-white hand; up a lean, muscled arm clad in a pale pink dress shirt; finally settling on the face of a man who appeared about his age. Dark sunglasses hid the man’s inscrutable expression, but not the sharp, alabaster lines of his nose and chin as he turned to look–-
Maya’s sudden shriek tore Blaine’s rapt attention from the effortlessly graceful man standing just across the way. “Christ, Maya, lower your v–-”
But Maya was off; slipping her hand out of Blaine’s and darting into the blocked-off street like a young fawn, leaving Blaine grasping nothing but air. A swish of curly brown hair and pink sweater was the last thing he saw before she disappeared in a swarming sea of people.
reblogged from mothaficklearchives-deactivated
originally posted by humansofnewyork
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