sir-pyllero:

sir-pyllero:

*dies of over-load of adorableness* 

Okay, so it was quite early to wake up to the sounds of TV blasting “Born This Way.” Especially when Kurt was quite sure it was him singing that song. He turned his head to confirm that no, Blaine was not there and yawned as he slowly sat up. The air was filled with the smells of breakfast and he followed them downstairs. 

What he saw in the living room was not something he was prepared for. 

His three year old son was dancing in front of the TV, mimicking…  oh God, mimicking the moves from an ancient performance New Directions had done. Kurt had had no idea a video of that even existed. 

“Uh… Blaine?” he called over his shoulder to the general direction of the kitchen. “What is Rory doing?” 

Blaine appeared, wearing an apron and his hair still free of gel. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Well, yeah, but… Like… what?” 

“Mercedes e-mailed the video to me. He’s fallen in love with it.” 

That was when Rory turned around and spotted Kurt. “Daddy!” he squealed. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, I’m you!” he announced proudly.  

“No, I think you’re better than me,” Kurt smiled as Blaine put his arms around his waist. 

Rory beamed and turned back to the screen just as the younger Kurt was singing ‘outcast bullied or teased.’

Blaine sighed. “What do you think? Wanna have another one?” 

“That you can put in a blazer?” 

“Don’t tell me you’re not imagining Rory in your Bad Romance costume.” 

“I’m not! …but it’d be a cool Halloween costume.” 

—

“Where did you even find it?” 

“Oh, honey, the internet. Just look at him, he’s so… happy!” 

And Toronto most definitely was, belting out Raise Your Glass and doing quite fine job with the dance steps. His older brother was grinning as he recorded the whole thing. “For blackmailing,” he said. 

“You even styled his hair like mine.” 

“He insisted! And I don’t think we’ll ever get him out of those clothes… Does Dalton have a kindergarten we could send him?” 

Blaine chuckled. He had to admit, Toronto had learned the steps pretty darn well for a boy of his age. 

He looked from Toronto to Rory and then to Kurt, smiling at the sight of his two children. 

“Life is pretty perfect, huh?” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss on Kurt’s temple.

“It really is,” Kurt agreed.