Red Bull and Cupcake Batter

My name is Caitlin and I want to write things. I am a redheaded lover of dresses who can't apply makeup, a very small theatre teacher/librarian/tutor, and an extremely happy young wife.

I write about Glee because it makes me happy, even if the show makes me weep bitter tears.
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Blaine stuck his lower lip out in a fierce pout. “I don’t like this,” he announced.

“Why not?” Kurt asked, bouncing happily on his swing.

Blaine dug the toe of his bright green sneaker in the dirt. “I don’t like it when my daddy takes me to the playground,” he said. “It’s not as fun as when my mama takes me.”

“But daddies are fun,” Kurt said, perplexed. “My daddy took me to the park today ‘cause Mommy wasn’t feeling good, so he took me to play and then we’re going out for ice cream and then we’re going to bring dinner home to my mommy.“ He pumped his little legs harder and waved enthusiastically towards the picnic tables. “Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hi!”

The baseball-capped man at the table waved back, grinning at him.

“Yeah, but your daddy plays with you and stuff,” Blaine grumbled. “My daddy just…” His voice trailed off. His father was pacing near the parked cars, talking on his phone. He was dressed casually in a polo shirt and khaki shorts, but he still seemed out of place in the park, as if he belonged in an office in a suit instead. “My daddy’s not fun.” He kicked at the dirt. “I wish my mama hadn’t gone to see my nana.”

“Well, you have me to play with,” Kurt suggested. He brightened. “Wanna play-”

“No,” Blaine sulked, crossing his arms over his little chest. “My daddy promised he was gonna play with me. I’m gonna wait till he stops talking on his phone.”

Kurt pouted. “But I wanted to play with you,” he objected.

“Nope!” Blaine said. He clambered up the monkey bars and perched himself on the top. “I’m gonna wait.”

Kurt stuck out his tongue. “I’m mad at you,” he announced. He skidded to a stop and jumped off the swing, jamming his hands on his hips. “If you’re not gonna play with me, I’m gonna go play in the sandbox.”

“Fine,” Blaine retorted.

Kurt waited for a moment, watching longingly for Blaine to change his mind, but finally just stomped his foot and ran off towards the sandbox. Blaine swung his legs back and forth, scowling in his father’s direction.

“Daddy,” he whined. “Daaaaaddy.” He kicked his legs harder. “Daddy!”

He kicked so hard that he lost his balance and slid off the monkey bars, tumbling to the ground and skidding on the rough concrete. For a terrified second he just blinked in confusion, and then he burst into startled tears.

“Blaine? Blaine!”

Kurt ran across the concrete, nearly tripping over his own shoes. “Blaine! What did you do?” he shrieked.

“I fell,” Blaine sobbed. “It hurts!”

Kurt dropped to his knees beside him and examined Blaine’s scraped forearms. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, petting Blaine’s curls. 

“My knee hurts really bad!” Blaine wailed, pushing it in Kurt’s face. “I’m bleeding, Kurt!”

Kurt dug around in his pocket for a tissue and dabbed it gently on Blaine’s scraped knee. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise,” he said. Blaine wiped at his running nose with the back of his hand. “Ew! Don’t do that! Here, I got another tissue.” He pulled it out of his pocket and held it over Blaine’s nose, frowning. “Blow.”

Blaine obeyed. Kurt crumpled up the snotty tissue and dropped it on the asphalt beside them. “It hurts,” Blaine sniffled. “I want my mama.”

“I know, but-”

“I want my mama!” Blaine interrupted, his eyes welling up with tears. He poked at his bloody scraped knee. “I want Mama!”

“No, no, stop it!” Kurt said. “Here. I’ll fix it.”

He cleaned up as much blood as he could manage, then leaned over and kissed Blaine’s knee. Blaine, startled, stopped crying. “Why’d you kiss me?” he asked curiously.

“That’s how my mommy fixes my boo-boos,” Kurt said.

Blaine giggled. “You call them boo-boos?” he said.

“Hey!” Kurt protested. “It’s not silly!” He frowned. “If you laugh at me, I won’t give you any more kisses.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t laugh,” Blaine promised, properly chastised. He held out his arms. “I have a boo-boo on my elbow too.”

Kurt leaned in and kissed the scratch on his elbow. “Is that better?” he asked.

“Yeah, now it feels a lot better,” Blaine said.

“Blaine? Are you okay, squirt?”

Blaine looked up and smiled at his father. “Hi, Daddy,” he said. “I’m okay.”

Jack scooped him up, checking the scrapes on his arms and legs. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he said. He hugged him tightly. “Don’t scare me like that, Blainey.”

“It’s okay, Daddy, Kurt took care of me,” Blaine said.

Jack stood up, balancing Blaine on his hip. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said, ruffling Kurt’s hair affectionately. “I’m going to take this little guy home, okay? I’ll talk to your dad and see if you can come over and play tomorrow.”

Kurt brightened. “Okay!” he said.

Blaine threw his arms happily around his father’s neck. “Bye, Kurt,” he said, waving at him happily. Kurt waved  back. “Daddy, can we go get ice cream? Just the two of us?”

“Let me get you patched up first, squirt,” Jack said, brushing gravel off Blaine’s clothes. “Then we can get ice cream.”

Blaine nestled closer. “And Daddy?” he said. “Can you…can you kiss my owies? Kurt says it‘ll make them better.”

Jack laughed softly and nuzzled his hair. “I will kiss your owies,” he promised.

Sighing with contentment, Blaine rested his cheek on his father’s shoulder and allowed himself to be carried to the car.


Kurt hid his face in the crook of his father’s neck, his small hand holding tightly to the shoulder of his shirt. “You all right?” Burt asked. He rubbed Kurt’s back. “Your tummy still hurts?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said softly. He cuddled closer to the warmth of his father’s chest. His daddy’s snuggles had been few and far between since his mommy had died a few months earlier, but ever since he’d gotten sick a few nights ago and had to go to the hospital, his daddy had barely put him down. Now he was sitting on his daddy’s lap on the couch, cuddled up warm and tight in his baby blanket.

Burt stroked his fingers through Kurt’s silky hair; Kurt quietly tucked his thumb in his mouth and started sucking on it, his index finger resting beside his nose. “You want me to get you anything?” Burt asked. “Do you just want to sleep?”

Kurt nodded. Burt kissed the top of his head and shifted around so he was lying down on the couch, nestled back against the thick pillows. “Take a little nap then, scooter,” he said, tucking the blanket around him. “You call me if you need me, okay?”

Kurt nodded and leaned up just far enough to kiss his father on the cheek. “Love you, Daddy,” he murmured.

“I love you too, baby,” Burt murmured. “Love you too. Have a good sleep.”

Kurt closed his eyes obediently as his daddy turned off the movie and closed the blinds. Within minutes he was fast asleep, his thumb slipping a little from his lips.

He woke up sluggishly to find a pair of golden-hazel eyes peeking at him. “Kurt?” Blaine said, worrying at his lower lip. “Kurt, are you okay?”

Kurt rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Uh-huh,” he mumbled.

Blaine crept a little closer. “My mommy brought me over to visit,” he said. “And she brought dinner for you and your daddy.”

“Okay,” Kurt murmured, slipping his thumb back into his mouth.

Blaine crawled beside him on the couch and reached out to tentatively touch Kurt’s hair. “You’re all hot and sweaty,” he commented.

“I’m sick,” Kurt retorted. He shifted around against the pillows, holding on tightly to the hem of his blankie. “There was something bad in my tummy that made me really sick so they had to take it out.”

Blaine bit his lip. “Kurt, I was scared,” he whispered. “Your daddy called my mama and said you were in the hospital and I was scared. I thought you were going to die.”

Kurt’s eyes welled up and he pulled his blanket over his head. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, about how scared he had been and how badly he wanted his mother to come and fix it.

“Wait, wait, no, Kurt, I’m sorry,” Blaine pleaded. He pulled the blanket away and petted Kurt’s hot cheek. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

“I was scared too,” Kurt whimpered. “I want my mommy really badly, Blaine. But Daddy said she’s in heaven and she can’t come take care of me, but…but Blaine, my mommy never told Daddy that you have to kiss things to make them better. So I’m never going to get better. And I want to get better!”

Blaine scratched the back of his neck. “What hurts?” he asked.

“My tummy,” Kurt sniffled. “I’m gonna have a really big ugly scar, and it hurts.”

Blaine scooted closer. “I’ll fix it,” he offered. He tugged on the hem of Kurt’s pajama and lifted it carefully to reveal the red line and little black stitches. “Oh. Oh, that it looks like hurts.”

“It does,” Kurt said, biting on the pad of his thumb. “I told you.”

Blaine leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Kurt’s soft belly, just above the stitching line. “There,” he said, satisfied. “Now I’ve kissed it, and it’s going to get better.” He tugged Kurt’s shirt back down and laid down beside him, pulling Kurt’s baby blanket up around their shoulders. “Did that help?”

“Uh-huh,” Kurt said, snuggling against Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine sighed, happy and relieved, and cuddled him close.

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    wow this hurts?
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