It was a cold and dreary day, drizzling rain falling from the sky in sideways sheets against the constant, howling notes of the singing wind. Grey light streamed through the cool shades and into the Hummel residence, landing on a scene in the living room that was lit with the soft light of a flickering fall candle. The television was on, depicting a classic rom-com; soft music swirled in the background from the scene where a couple was dancing. An instantaneous flashback of the couples story—how they met, first date, first intimate encounter, the proposal, the spontaneous birthday celebrations—played through the present scene in tricky yet skillful transformation.

As he watched, Blaine couldn't help but think of his own situation with Kurt. He glanced down at him and smiled softly when he noticed he was asleep. His nose was tucked into the contours of his burgundy sweater, his cheek pressed up against his collarbone with the top of his auburn locks brushing against the tender skin where the neck slowly transformed into the chin; it tickled him like soft grass on bare feet, like a kitten's wet nose against your finger, like butterfly kisses with dancing eyelashes. His knees were pulled up neatly underneath him and his arm was stretched lazy around Blaine's middle, the fingers holding a loose grip around the gentle curve of Blaine's side.

The two slowly rose and fall in time with each other's breathing; Blaine couldn't help but feel like warm cider, full of sugar and sweetness and absolute love for this beautiful man, this indescribable love that he sometimes feared but mostly adored, the man he would be spending the rest of his life with.

Blaine slowly brought his lips down to Kurt's forehead and kept them there for a few soft seconds before pulling back and resting his head against the back of the loveseat, lazy eyelids barely remaining open to watch the remainder of the movie.

After slight shuffling the sound of an opening door, a slight creaking, stole Blaine's attention away from the movie and turned it towards the senior Hummel who had just returned home from a long day at the shop. He nodded softly to Burt as he came in with loud footfalls before purposely quieting them when he noticed his sleeping son. Burt stood on the perimeter of the living room, simply watching his son and his fiancé with a small smile that took him back to his 20s, of late night movies and cuddles and tickle fights and books of poems that Elizabeth had enjoyed, of being forced through musicals and buying roses out of the blue only to see her whole being light up with excitement and love.

"Glad to see you home, son." Burt murmured softly, clasping Blaine's shoulder as he walked quietly by, settling in on the chair and opening a beer with a soft click. Blaine blushed softly and smiled before murmuring a low, "Thanks, Burt."

"It's 'Dad' to you, now." Burt murmured, grinning softly, stupidly, to himself. Blaine felt a flurry of emotion rush through his chest; he knew the words would eventually be said, but it was as though he had been predicting when a scene from his favorite book would appear in its movie version that was produced years later. He knew it would happen, eventually, but the timing was unpredictable. And, frankly, Blaine was glad that it was—he wouldn't want it any other way.