Chapter Text
The first thing Blaine realised was that someone was calling his name. Well, whispering his name. And not his actual name, but the one he was called more often than not these days.
The second thing that came to him was the weight on his chest, and the tiny hands curled around fistfuls of his shirt.
And there was that name again, a rough whisper from a tiny voice.
He hummed quietly in acknowledgement.
“Daddy!” she hissed again.
“Mmm?” he managed as he stirred, opening lazy eyes to stare at his daughter’s face.
She stared patiently back at him, her giant blue-green eyes brighter than ever. “You awake?”
He chuckled softly, resting a hand on her back as his eyes drifted closed. “No.”
There was a long pause before he felt her hands tugging at his shirt again. “No but you are! Don’t lie.”
Unable to hold back his telltale grin, he opened his eyes again, raising his other hand to brush a handful of dark curls away from her face. “What is it?”
“I think Dad’s awake,” she whispered, resting her chin on his chest.
Her little legs were curled at an angle, tucked up and warm on his stomach under a haphazardly draped blanket. He rubbed a soothing hand over her back absently as his mind slowly crawled into consciousness.
“Mmm,” he agreed, still trying to form proper sentences and hoping to god that was coffee he could smell.
“I don’t want to get up,” she whispered like it was a secret, tipping her head to rest her ear against his heartbeat.
“It’s Saturday,” he said slowly. “We don’t have to get up.”
“But Dad,” she said simply, as if it were its own explanation.
“He doesn’t know we’re awake,” Blaine whispered back intensely, eyes drifting closed again. “So shhh.”
She giggled quietly, closing her eyes. “Shhh,” she echoed.
“This is an excellent plan,” Blaine mumbled. “I like this plan.”
Her head darted up. “Shh!” she insisted.
“Oh, okay,” he whispered, grinning. “I’m sorry. My bad.”
Her head rested again, fingers still curled into fabric as her weight rose and fell with his breathing. There was a distant noise of cutlery and the hissing of a fry pan before the strong smell of butter drifted through the room. Blaine’s mind swirled in the warm, safe feeling of cradling his daughter on the couch before he was jolted into consciousness by her sudden sharp movement.
She’d lifted her head again, nose up and eyes wide as she perched on both elbows. He watched her fondly through half-lidded eyes, trying not to laugh aloud at the image of her sniffing the air like a lion.
She was tugging on his shirt before she even looked down again. “Daddy, daddy!” she said, her voice almost panicked.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Pancakes,” she hissed. “He’s making pancakes.”
Blaine’s eyes widened as the smells sank in, the rich scents of syrup and cooking batter floating on the air. “Crap.”
“Bad word!” she grumbled.
“Sorry, I owe you a dollar,” he said. “But those are definitely pancakes.”
“What do we do?” she asked, fighting a smile at their game.
“I think we might have to abort the mission,” he whispered back seriously. “Mission Pretend Sleep is a no-go, I repeat, no-go on account of pancakes.”
She shifted again at the sound of footsteps. “He’s coming!”
“Shh, forget that, pretend sleep is back on!”
She dove down fast, and he let out a tiny amused oof! as her heavy head hit his chest at full force. As the footsteps grew closer, he settled down as best he could, cradling her gently and letting his eyes flutter closed into the best imitation of a sleeping face he could manage.
He had the sense of someone hovering in the archway that opened out onto the living room, and the tiny tinkle of cutlery on a tray gave it away. Part of him wanted to throw in a solid snore, just because he could.
“Oh, wow, I guess nobody in here wants pancakes then,” a soft, amused voice drifted across the room. “Everybody’s asleep. I’ll just have to eat all of these by myself.”
Blaine felt her stir slightly, and before he could stop it the grin spread across his face like wildfire.
Her tiny fists smacked into his chest once, and he felt her pull herself up on to her knees. “You broke!”
He was laughing now, in quick, noisy chuckling sounds that he couldn’t keep down. “You broke first!” he argued, pressing his palms to hers as she leaned her weight against him. “I felt you movin’. Kurt – who was it?”
With one eyebrow arched, Kurt glanced at his husband and daughter – both staring intently at him, waiting while he set up the breakfast trays on the coffee table. After a moment of silence, he rolled his eyes and scowled at them fondly.
“Daddy smiled first!” she insisted.
“Oh, he smiled,” Kurt agreed, amused. “But somebody’s a lookie-lou.”
Blaine tickled playfully under her armpits, rolling her as she squealed in delight. “Ha! I knew it! You peeked!”
“I did not!”
“Oh, you did too,” Kurt insisted. “Now come on, before it gets cold.”
She whined for a moment, collapsing flat onto Blaine’s chest and snuggling her face down into his t-shirt. “But I’m warm,” she protested.
Kurt finished setting up her plate, wandering around the table on his knees. “And if you don’t come eat soon, your breakfast won’t be.”
She rolled off the couch, scrambling on the carpet for a moment on hands and knees. Kurt laughed softly at her awkward dismount, gaze drifting over to where Blaine still lay motionless on the couch, his mop of curls splayed out on the cushions.
She grunted at the effort of getting herself upright, pulling a face at the early morning light that streamed down from the high windows.
Kurt smiled wistfully. “I know, kiddo, I know. Sometimes I don’t want to get off of daddy either.”
Blaine shook violently with silent laughter as she wandered over to the table, oblivious. When she got there, she bumped into Kurt’s side before planting a tiny kiss on his cheek. “Morning Dad.”
“Morning, sweetie,” he answered, brushing a hand through her hair lovingly as she plonked herself down and pulled her plate closer.
After she’d become all but entranced with her meal, Kurt glanced over to the couch again, and a devious grin spread across his features. He pushed himself up, and with two strides closed the gap and dove onto his husband, laughing at the startled sound that punched out of him.
“Hey!” she protested from the table, glancing back over her shoulder as her parents rolled around on the couch. “You stole my spot!”
“My spot now,” Kurt answered back, settling down and rubbing his cheek against Blaine’s chest.
“No fair!” she said, peeling off another strip of pancake and rolling it carefully.
“I made breakfast,” Kurt waved an arm at her as his eyes drifted closed. “I get the warm spot.”
Blaine tipped his head to the side, ignoring the wash of curls that fell in his face in favor of pressing his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “Does the warm spot get breakfast?”
“Shh,” Kurt answered, rocking as he pushed both arms under Blaine’s back to pull him closer. “Warm spots don’t talk.”
He could feel Blaine’s laughter vibrating through his chest, tickling against his ear and the side of his face.
The clattering on her plate let them know she was finished, and if that wasn’t enough to, the sudden lump of her weight on top of both of them certainly was.
“Hey!” Blaine laughed in mock-outrage.
Kurt grinned into his shirt as she shifted over him and slid down his side to fit neatly between the cushions and the two of them. He carefully pulled his arm out, draping it over her back as she dropped a head onto Blaine’s shoulder.
There was a long stretch of quiet, and Kurt had no idea whether seconds had passed or minutes before Blaine’s voice pulled him up to consciousness again.
“I didn’t get any pancakes,” Blaine mumbled.
“I can make more,” Kurt said softly, eyes still closed. “Later. I don’t want to get up.”
She was already asleep, her tiny mouth open and waves of dark hair twisting up the back of the couch.
Blaine glanced between them briefly, and craned his neck forward to press a kiss to both of their foreheads in turn.
“It’s okay,” he said gently as Kurt drifted off. “It’s Saturday.”