Title: A Toy's Story
Media: Fanfic
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, slight Brittany/Santana, Mercedes/Sam, Puck/Lauren, Rachel+Quinn friendship
Summary: After many years of waiting, Kurt is finally brought home. (He just has to believe it's for real.)

AN: Toy Story inspired.

Rachel loves her two gay dads.

They buy her Disney dresses, take her to see musicals at the community theater, let her put on fashion shows and Broadway plays, and let her have firsts dibs on karaoke night. At least one parent is given a makeover every weekend. They allow her to do so, the both of them smiling self-decapratingly at whatever combination of wig, eye makeup, and glittery nail polish she swindles them into wearing.

She loves, loves, loves them.

She loves the way people stare at them when they go out to the park. She thinks to herself, smugly, that they're staring because their jealous, jealous that she's got two amazing, incredible dads and they aren't as lucky as her.

Rachel loves the way they both come into her room at night, taking turns to read her bedtime stories. And they always end the night with a "Rachel sandwich", wrapping her up tightly in their arms. She is overwhelmed by their cologne, their stubble scratching her cheeks as they kiss her goodnight. And every night, she falls asleep thinking she can't love any man more than she loves her daddies.

And then Daddy L comes back from a business trip with a gift.

He comes back with Kurt.

And suddenly there is room for one more man in her heart.

Rachel is bouncing impatiently on the sofa, waiting for her daddies to stop kissing. When Daddy L finally loosens his tie and sits down next to her, he opens his carry-on luggage.

"Here is a very special doll, for a very special girl", he tells her, and he gently pulls Kurt out of the bag.

Daddy H murmurs a, "how pretty!", and pulls his husband into a loose embrace on the couch.

Rachel let's out a gasp of surprise, and not one of her over-the-top ones, like she does when she eats the last of the vegan cookies and her dads wonder aloud if it was her, but a real gasp, like she had never seen such a beautiful doll in all the world.

"She hugs the doll tightly, "I'll call him Kurt," she squeaks out between her endless thank yous, peppering her father's face with kisses and admiring her newest toy.

And he is so, so beautiful.

Kurt is of porcelain features and fabric body. His skin is milky white, with two blush colored cheeks and thin painted lips in a small smile. He has glittering marble eyes of blue, green, and grey-glasz, her daddy calls it, and soft chestnut hair.

"I think that's real human hair," Daddy L interjects tiredly, as Rachel petted the top of Kurt's head reverently.

He's talking mostly to Daddy H, about the long plane ride and boring business meetings, warm beer and German cleanliness (impeccable, he stressed). He talks about how he missed them every night he was away.

He tells the story of how he found Kurt, high in the back shelf of a toy store, nestled amongst the frills and frippery of the other dolls. But there he was, defiant in his velvet leiderhosen, his pale, jointed legs and genuine leather shoes a refreshing contrast to the patterned frocks and aging lace. Daddy L says he picked Kurt because of Rachel's current obsession with The Sound of Music.

Daddy also tells her, as he tucks her into bed that night, that Kurt is an extremely delicate doll and needs to be treated gently.

Rachel nods solemnly and hugs Kurt closer to her chest. He kisses her goodnight and turns off the lights. Her star shaped nightlight blinks on and casts a comforting glow on the bedroom. Rachel settles into sleep, her warm cheek flush against Kurt's cool one.

She has a feeling she'll love Kurt forever.

Kurt is frozen in terror, tense as a bowstring.

It's been years, no, decades since a child last held him. He had become acclimated to sitting up high on the shelves, where he watched people wander in and out of the toy shop, unreachable and untouchable. He observed all; fashions and children, their growth, their change, their expansion into new and fabulous directions that generations past would never dare to dream possible. He had watched the current store owner grow up there, from gumming wooden blocks as a baby, to grow into a capable man. Kurt watched him fall in love, marry, mourn the loss of his wife. The store owner's name is Burt Hummel, a simple man that has a fondness for vintage automobile models and his family's toy shop. It's a popular enough business, thanks to the steady stream of boys and car enthusiasts that keep the toy shop a float. But Burt had been a fair owner, spending his time equally on the cars and other toys with loving care.

But it's different now.

The American took him away from that, and gave him to this igirl/i.

Kurt delicately wriggled out from under the covers, too warm with the thick comforter over him and the girl's body heat radiating like a furnace-

"You can pull out of her hold harder, white boy, girl sleeps like the dead," a voice calls out from the darkness.

Kurt freezes.

"P-pardon?" he stammers, voice high and nervous. There is a mutter around the room.

"Are you sure it's a boy doll?" a catty voice asks.

Another voice answers softly, "Maybe he's a baby doll."

Kurt scoffs, anger building. He had gotten enough scathing remarks from his time spent on the shelf; being eyed at and gossiped about as the girls came and went. He was always too unusual, with never enough panache, always too male and too opinionated among the others. He didn't need that kind of ostracizing in his new home.

He swallowed hard, lump forming in his throat.

His new home.

He pushed those longing thoughts of the toy shop out of his head, and wrestled out of Rachel's grip to land gently on the floor. Kurt put a jaunt in his step as he headed towards the nightlight, despite the fact he hadn't used his legs in almost 30 years.

Reaching his destination, he turned to face the darkness.

"If you want to know who I am, you can come and face me yourself." He sounded a lot calmer and braver than he actually felt.

Kurt stood and waited, hands on his hips in a small attempt to look nonchalant about the whole ordeal. But his inner turmoil only increased as he heard shuffling feet come closer.

Two female dolls emerged, one with a long ratty blonde ponytail and absentminded smile, the other a tanned doll with dark hair and arched eyebrows. The were both made of the same plastic, wearing short dresses that showed off their long, endless legs.

A large stuffed bear emerged as well, with faux dark chocolate fur and a pink zebra print bandana around its neck. Its beady eyes glistened in the light, giving Kurt a once over that made him straighten his leiderhosen self conciously.

The final toy to join them was a male doll, made of the same plastic as the girls, with blonde hair and a wide smile that started a small fluttering in Kurt's chest.

Which promptly increased when he realized the other doll was barechested.

The dark haired doll stepped closer, looking at Kurt with a fierce gaze. Kurt trembled slightly, backing into the wall behind him. What were they going to do? Kurt knew he was a well built doll, but he was also far older and easier to break. Were they going to hurt him? She reached out with her tiny, sharp looking hand and jabbed him twice in the chest. Kurt flinched at the touch.
The bear shot her a dirty look.

"Girl, don't even-"

"What?" the doll snaps back, eyes never leaving Kurt's form, "I just wanted to see if Raggedy Ann here really is a boy, or just a flat chested girl-"

"Santana," the bear warns.

They lock eyes, before the doll named Santana backs down. The bear moves in closer to Kurt and sits down.

"I'm Mercedes-"

"Don't you mean Snugglepaws," Santana drawls, smile all bite and slightly ominous in the light.

Mercedes knocks her down with a paw and growls out, "Mercedes," before turning back to Kurt with a sheepish smile. " I was a babyshower gift, so Rachel's parents gave me that awful name before she could talk. But that's no excuse not to change it to something to reflect how fabulous I am." Mercedes gives a nod, and the male doll introduces himself.

"I'm Sam," he says genially, patting Kurt's shoulder, "welcome to your new home."

The combination of the smile and the friendliness and that bare chest makes his jointed knees go weak and cause him to lean heavily on the wall.

"My name is Kurt," he says shyly.

"I was just brought back from Germany." He says it with a little pride in his voice. The other toys seem impressed.

"Wow, that's so cool!," said Sam, "the girls and I were only made in China."

Kurt deflates a little. China? Way more exotic than Germany. A soft shuffling pulls his attention away from the group. Mercedes follows his gaze and chuckles.

"And that's Brittany."

The blonde was mesmerized by her own shadow puppets, her arms bent into an L shape.

"Look Santana, I made a letter! I wonder which one..."

Santana sighed and walked over to gently bring Brittany's arm down.

"Ugh," she said, "I'm bored of this. Let's go sit by the doorway so someone will remember to give us back to Quinn in the morning." They walked off, linking arms, slowly fading into the shadows. Sam laughed, and said his goodnight soon after, trailing behind the girls.

Mercedes turned to Kurt, who was starting to ease off from his position against the wall.

"Don't mind them," she said, "They sometimes get left here when Quinn and Rachel fight, which is just about every day. But for some reason, Quinn's mother keeps dropping her off, or coming to pick Rachel up for playdates."

Mercedes shrugged, then started heading off into the shadows.

"C'mon white boy, it's late and Rachel likes to wake up early."

Kurt watches, warily, before following her into the darkness. Mercedes sidles up to the side of the bed, within an arm's reach to Rachel's prone figure.

"We'll sleep here tonight." She settles down and looks at him expectantly. Kurt settles down a respectable distance away, but Mercedes pulls him close and Kurt tenses. The dolls in the toy shop did not cuddle. They may have leaned against one another, their tresses and layers of clothing enough padding to rest against, but they certainly did not touch one another so intimately. And certainly never with Kurt.

"I know what it's like to be taken away to a new home. Everything is so new and strange here, and you miss your place at the toy store, and all your old friends. But you'll get used to us soon enough, I promise."

She pets his head, and Kurt struggles to find the words to describe how conflicted he feels, the overwhelming heartache of leaving his store, the hope that Rachel will love him, the fear of what will happen when she gets tired of him. Kurt decides to say nothing, just nodding tiredly into the short fur of Mercedes' stomach. Her voice is just as soft as her fur, and Kurt is slowly being lulled to sleep, the day's travel finally taking a toll on his system.

"I'll wake you up before Rachel even notices your gone."

Kurt nods again, burying his face deeper into her soft body.

"Gute Nacht," he murmurs sleepily, finally drifting asleep.

True to her word, Mercedes shakes Kurt awake, and helps him back into the bed. He's just pushed his head through the crook of Rachel's arm when her brown eyes flutter open. Kurt held his breath, his chest tightening imperceptibly. This wasn't the first time he's woken to the sight of brown eyes staring back at him. But they had been a boy's, so many, too many years ago, and-

Rachel gently smiles, and hugs him closer.

"Good morning, Kurt," she gently sing songs into his hair.
And Kurt does his best to will away the pain tightening in his chest.

It's a new day, with a new owner, and somehow, he'll learn to be happy again.