A/N: From the bottom of my heart, thank you for sharing this journey with me. This is the closing chapter of The Handcuffing of Kurt Hummel.

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine and this is not for profit – just for entertainment.

Chapter 5: Where Kurt Chooses Life Without Parole

-mid-July-

Consciousness came slowly; an awareness that the room was brighter than it would be if it was still night, and that the clanging of the pipes meant the sprinkler system was watering the yard. It was somewhere between 6 and 6:30 in the morning. Hoping to snuggle with his boyfriend for a few moments, Kurt rolled over to find the other half of the bed empty. Again.

Blinking back tears, he sighed heavily as he climbed out of the bed he 'shared' with Blaine, and half-heartedly pulled the sheets and duvet back into place. Padding out of the bedroom, Kurt opened the door to their guest room, finding Blaine sprawled out on his stomach, sheets twisted around his feet.

Biting his lip, Kurt took in the sight for several long moments before making a decision. Climbing into the bed, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine, kissing his shoulder.

Blaine smacked his lips sleepily. "Kurt?"

"Sshh. It's still early," Kurt whispered. "Go back to sleep."

Wriggling on to his side, Blaine reached out, pulling Kurt into his arms. "I'm sorry," he rasped, clearing his throat. "I didn't want to wake you up."

Ear pressed against Blaine's chest, Kurt listened to the solid thump of Blaine's beating heart. "I wish you would," he admitted. "I'm tired of waking up and not finding you with me."

Blaine tensed underneath him. "I'm just trying to be considerate," he protested.

Kurt ran one hand soothingly up and down Blaine's back. "Let me try again. I appreciate that you feel it would be inconsiderate to wake me up when you have nightmares. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like I'm failing you every time I wake up and you've spent part or all of the night in this guest room or on the couch."

Kurt shifted so he could look directly into Blaine's eyes, losing himself in their beauty. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Blaine replied immediately.

"I know. I know you do." Kurt began toying with Blaine's curls, completely messy from his restless night. "You went through something traumatic, Blaine. And I respect that. But I can't help feeling like you're cutting me out when it comes to the residual effects. And that hurts."

Staring at a point over Kurt's shoulder, Blaine considered what Kurt had just shared. He'd seen the police department's psychologist after the shooting - it was required – but even after several sessions as Blaine honestly worked through the emotions of that day – he still had nightmares two to three times a week. Horrific nightmares.

"It was you," he breathed. Barely able to meet Kurt's eye, Blaine shared what he could of his latest nightmare. "I walked up, saw the gun and the finger on the trigger, and opened fire. It wasn't until after, when I opened the door that I realized I'd shot you." Tearing up, Blaine swiped at the moisture as he let loose a stream of curse words.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, gathering him into his arms and rocking him back and forth. "I'm right here. I'll always be right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Too emotional to speak, Blaine pulled Kurt closer, concentrating on the soft rise and fall of Kurt's chest. The repetitive motion lulled him back into a more peaceful sleep.

Even on national holidays, when the majority of people stayed at home with their friends and families celebrating with barbeques and beer, there were still people who had to work – police officers and firefighters being two such groups. Because of this, it was two weeks after the Fourth of July holiday that Blaine and Kurt were hosting their own celebration, inviting their friends and families over for an afternoon of fun.

Carrying a platter full of steaks, hamburgers and sausages, Kurt walked over to the grill, laughing when he saw the two men behind it. "Isn't in a bit ironic that the man paid to put out fires is the one in charge of this one?" he teased Dave Karofsky's husband Matt.

Matt grinned, waving a pair of tongs at Kurt. "Laugh all you want, Hummel. It's a proven fact I'm a fire whisperer. Mad skills."

Kurt laughed again, sliding the platter next to the grill and then holding his hands open, hoping for a chance to hold baby Josie. Dave handed her over, wrapping his now free arm around Matt's chest, dropping his chin on Matt's shoulder.

"Uncle Kurt is borrowing this one for a bit," Kurt said, kissing the baby's forehead. "I'll bring her back when she needs her diaper changed," he joked.

"Oh hell no, Kurt," Dave argued, shaking his head, "it's like borrowing power tools – you give her back in the same or better condition than you received her."

Kurt stared at Dave, while Matt twisted around in his husband's arms. "You did not just compare our daughter to a power tool," he said seriously.

"Oh dear, Josie," Kurt cooed at the infant, "Uncle Kurt has so much to teach you – and apparently your daddy Dave. Come on, let's go talk fashion for a little bit." Leaving Matt and Dave, Kurt moved over to the patio table covered by an umbrella, sitting down in a chair, reveling in the weight of the tiny girl in his arms.

A few minutes later, Blaine jogged over from the grass where he and Finn had been playing with the other kids and sat down next to Kurt. Wiping his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt, Blaine peered down at the little girl who was staring rapt at Kurt. "She's beautiful," he whispered.

Kurt sighed, leaning his head against Blaine's. "I want one. Seriously, Blaine. If you'd asked me before, I would have said I probably saw myself with kids one day. But sitting here, with Josie … and you. I'm positive. I want kids. And I want them with you." Turning his head, Kurt caught Blaine's lips with his own in a soft kiss.

"Get some, Anderson," Jeff called out walking towards the couple with a tray of vegetables and dips. Placing it on the umbrella table, he leaned down to grab something to drink from the cooler.

"Shut up, Sterling. You're ruining my moment here," Blaine muttered, leaning back in to kiss Kurt again.

Jeff pressed a cold bottle of beer into the back of Blaine's neck, causing his friend to startle. "Let's keep it G-rated for the kiddos, people."

Blaine snatched the bottle from Jeff's hand and after opening it and taking a long swig, he pointed it towards Jeff. "She's two months old. I don't think we're scarring her for life."

Pursing his lips, Jeff shrugged. "Well, it's not like I'd know one way or another, seeing as Nicholas and I don't have any crumb-catchers of our own." Sitting down, he helped himself to some of the veggies and dip. "We're in the process of becoming approved as emergency foster parents. Things have finally settled down at the restaurant and, well, being your own boss does have some perks. The ability to flex your hours would be one of them."

"Is it difficult? The process?" Blaine asked.

"Not really," Jeff admitted, chewing on a carrot. "It's long, but not particularly hard. In fact, you might be getting a call or two from social services while they complete the background check. We put both of you down as character references."

Making grabby hands, Blaine carefully took baby Josie from Kurt, unwrapping her from her flannel blanket and laying her on his chest. "Maybe we should consider doing that, Kurt? What do you think?"

Having just popped several cherry tomatoes into his mouth, Kurt chewed as he considered Blaine's question. "I mean, it sounds pretty good. I would definitely be open to exploring it further."

"Anderson!"

His hand resting on Josie's bottom to keep her in place, Blaine turned towards Karofsky's voice, smiling when he realized Dave was taking a photograph.

"I'm posting this in the locker rooms with your cell number and 'Need a Babysitter'," teased Dave as he sat down around the table.

"Do you want her back," Blaine asked quietly, loath to give the precious baby up just yet.

"Nah. We get her all the time at home. I don't mind sharing her. Besides, she looks rather content curled up on you." Dave took the flannel blanket and shook it out before laying it over the baby on Blaine's chest.

Looking down, Blaine could see Josie sucking on her fist, eyes closed tight. "Yeah, she does look pretty relaxed, doesn't she?" With his free hand, Blaine reached out and took Kurt's hand, brushing his thumb over Kurt's knuckles as they enjoyed the summer afternoon together.

Blaine wiped his hand over his face in frustration hearing the drone of the neighbor boys from across the street riding their dune buggy up and down the residential street. He'd spoken to the boys and their mother several times about the illegal nature of riding the vehicle on a residential street – but it didn't stop them or their friends from doing so. In fact, the last time he'd talked with their mom, Kurt had come home to burned tennis balls littering their front yard.

"Yeah, the next-door neighbor, Mrs. Mooney said the boys were soaking the tennis balls in gasoline, lighting them on fire and then throwing them at the dune buggy, regardless of where they were landing," Kurt explained to their assembled group of friends.

"Idiots," burst out Matt.

"That would be one term for their behavior," agreed Blaine, standing up to collect the paper plates and plastic utensils from those who'd finished their meal. "I mean, I try to empathize with the fact that she's a single mom, working hard to keep a roof over their head – but … it feels like we're just waiting for the train wreak to happen."

Kurt cut into the sheet cake he'd used blueberries and strawberries to make it look like an American flag. While passing out the pieces he shared another incident with the neighbor kids. "I came home early one day a couple weeks ago and the youngest was on the roof jumping into the swimming pool – except he was about to jump for the power lines that run over their pool. Brat got mouthy when I told him he needed to get down before he electrocuted himself."

"Which I thought was the worst thing I'd see, until four days ago when I came home and the boys were out in their stupid buggy, shooting at each other with a BB gun." Kurt rolled his eyes. "I did call the police department on that one."

A distinct thud sounded from the front yard.

As a unit, Matt and Dave Karofsky, Blaine, and Blaine's beat partners, Casey and Nathan all shoved back from the table and went running towards the front of the house.

Through the gate first, Matt took one look at the accident scene and shouted behind him, "Call it in. Get the medics rolling. David, get my bag from the truck."

One of the boys was seated in the dune buggy, wedged underneath a lifted Ford Bronco. Matt immediately went to work on stabilizing the teenager while Nathan escorted the driver to the sidewalk, as the boy muttered, "He came out of nowhere. I didn't see him," over and over.

"Can we roll the car backwards without hurting him?" Blaine asked, peering under the truck at Matt.

"Please, he's been burned by the undercarriage," Matt answered firmly, taking vital signs.

"Casey, put it in neutral and we're gonna push it off," Blaine called out.

By the time they backed the Bronco off of the dune buggy, everyone could hear the incoming sirens of the fire department, ambulance and police officers. They were only too happy to pass the accident scene off, and Blaine spent several minutes speaking with the Lima police officers about removing the dune buggy permanently to impound.

He spotted Kurt nearby, speaking with several of their neighbors and walked over. "Did anyone get ahold of either of their parents?" he asked.

Kurt turned and nodded. "Miss Rosewood did. Mom's on the way home but stuck in traffic. I think Dad may be meeting the ambulance at the hospital. Colton drove the other brothers down there a few minutes ago."

Wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist, Kurt tugged him closer. "That boy owes you all his life. If you hadn't been here – it this had happened any other day," Kurt's voice was shaky.

"Ssshh," Blaine soothed. "Everything turned out okay this time. Let's go finish eating." Looking around at their neighbors, Blaine smiled warmly, "If any of you don't feel like making dinner, we have plenty of food leftover. Please come join us."

As Blaine and Kurt walked back to their home, Blaine sighed. "I think I need some more Josie time. Gonna go change clothes and wash up and then snuggle with that beautiful angel and try to remember that those terrors used to be tiny and adorable like her."

Kurt smiled, slipping his hand from Blaine's waist lower, giving his butt a firm squeeze.

"Harassing an officer, Kurt?"

"You like it. Don't even deny it."

"You know me too well."

"That I do."

-Late September-

The sun had just slipped under the horizon as Blaine sat in the passenger's seat, nervously flipping the black box he held between his hands. This was it. This was the night that could – would – determine the course of the rest of his life. In a rush he blew the air from his lungs and glanced over at his best friend Nick. "He's gonna say yes, right?"

Rolling his eyes at Blaine's nervousness, Nick snatched the ring box from Blaine's grasp, holding it tight in his fist. "Stop already. Where the hell is my friend, Officer Anderson right now? 'Cause this anxiety ridden schmuck reminds me too much of sophomore year," Nick teased, knowing exactly how Blaine would react to his words.

"Fuck you," Blaine muttered without heat, holding out his hand for the box.

"Considering Kurt would cut off my balls so that Jeff could sauté them and then serve them to me with a smile, no thank you." Nick held on to the box, opening it to peer at the beautiful platinum band Blaine had selected. "You've got good taste."

"When Wes was here, after the shooting, he helped me pick it out. I didn't know when I was going to ask, but I knew I was," Blaine admitted softly staring out the windshield. Looking up at Nick, he shook his head. "I owe you such an apology for all the shit I gave you when you were proposing to Jeff. I am so sorry, Nick. Fuck. Could you just shoot me now and put me out of my misery?"

"Don't even tease about that," Nick answered with force as Blaine dropped his head into his hands. Reaching over, he squeezed Blaine's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could. "You are not getting shot, and he's going to say yes, and then you'll live happily ever, having widely imaginative and passionate sex every night."

Peeking out from his hands, Blaine whispered, "Really?"

Nick shoved Blaine on the shoulder. "Fuck, no. There's mortgages and kids and fights and make up sex and family issues and debt and 'who forgot to throw out the sour milk' and 'why can't you ever remember to replace the toilet paper roll'? And in the end, when you lay down next to him at night, realizing that you've found your match and that, regardless of any of the rough spots, he's always going to have your back, it's worth it. All of it."

Wetting his lips with his tongue, Blaine studied Nick for a long moment. "I always assumed you and Jeff … that things were always sunshine and roses between you."

The side of Nick's mouth pulled up in a self-deprecating smile. "Truth? We almost called it quits six months into our marriage and then again about eight weeks before opening the restaurant. Paperwork all filled out by the lawyers. Assets divided. The works. And even though I was pissed beyond all belief at him, I still loved Jeff. The thought of him being with someone else – fucking tore me up inside."

"Wow. I had no idea," Blaine admitted quietly.

"Well, neither one of us wanted to admit we were having problems. And things are back to being pretty amazing now. You and Kurt, you're older than Jeff and I were when we got married. You're settled in your careers, you know what you want out of life. He understands what it's gonna be like to be married to a cop. These are all points in your favor, B."

Nick tossed the ring box back at Blaine, pointing to a pair of bright headlights making their way down the road. "Believe that's your man coming this way now. Good luck. And remember," he called out as Blaine climbed out of Nick's BMW, "you love him, and he loves you."

"Thanks, Nick," managed to force out of his suddenly dry throat.

"Anytime. And we'll talk later about this great little restaurant I know in Westerville that you could book for your reception. Excellent food. Excellent service. And I know the owners." Nick laughed at his own joke, waving at Blaine as he drove into the night.

Pulling up to the location he'd been given for a motorist with a flat tire, Kurt was befuddled when, as he pulled up behind the vehicle in question, a man got out of the passenger seat right before the car in question drove away. His anxiety level skyrocketing, Kurt reached for his phone, already pressing the speed dial for Blaine, when he realized the man walking towards the tow truck was Blaine.

Shrugging, he completed the call, lifting the phone to his ear. "I was going to call you about this weird situation where I got a call to change a flat tire, and then the car drove away leaving a guy behind to take advantage of me," he said lowly, after he heard Blaine answer.

Turning off the engine of the tow truck, Kurt unlocked the door and slid out of the driver's seat, pocketing his phone. "Given as I thought you were working, I figured you could swoop in and play knight in shining armor," he continued, eyeing Blaine's outfit carefully.

Unable to help himself, Blaine smirked while admitting, "This wouldn't have worked if you knew I was off tonight."

Kurt stood in front of Blaine, close enough that as they breathed their chests brushed against each other. "If you're not working, Officer Anderson, why are you in your uniform? And why does your uniform look like you washed it in hot water and shrunk it two sizes? Not that I'm complaining," Kurt observed huskily, running his hand over Blaine's solid chest.

"It's not my uniform," Blaine shared, taking Kurt's hand that was circling his chest and guiding it lower. "More of a … sexy cop costume. I couldn't fit a vest under this spandex – and these riding pants and boots? Not exactly standard issue."

Brushing his lips against Blaine's ear, Kurt murmured, "Impressive night stick there, Officer." With deliberate slowness, Kurt slotted a leg between Blaine's, providing both of them with some desired friction.

Blaine snorted, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and holding him securely. "Do you recognize this place?"

Kurt nodded, arms moving to encircle Blaine's shoulders. "I believe this is where I questioned your abilities to change a tire, and you wanted to kiss me but wouldn't – because of the uniform."

"Mmmm," Blaine hummed, kissing the side of Kurt's neck. "Good memory, Mr. Hummel."

"And we're here again. And you're in uniform again," Kurt said, deliberately shifting his hips, taking delight in Blaine's sharp intake of breath.

"Not. My. Uniform." Blaine emphasized with more than just his words. "Not. On. Duty." Taking Kurt's face between his hands, Blaine kissed him slowly. When Kurt tried to take things further, Blaine broke away from the kiss, resting their foreheads together. "I … I have something I want to say first."

Swallowing around his very dry throat, Blaine took Kurt's hands in his and gazed into his eye. "A year ago, fate chose this beautiful, intelligent man to place in my path. And while I might have been too oblivious to realize it the first time, or the second, by the third time we randomly crossed paths, I was seriously intrigued.

"And even though it's only been a year … I feel like I've known you forever. And I can't imagine my life without you by my side." Blaine dropped to one knee, happy to see that Kurt hadn't figured things out before this moment.

"Kurt? It would make me the happiest man on this earth, if you would do me the honor of becoming my husband."

Sliding his hand into his pocket, Blaine opened the ring box and presented the platinum band to Kurt who, while grinning ear to ear, had tears tracking down his cheeks. "Kurt? Will you? Will you marry me?"

Nodding furiously, Kurt dropped to his knees, engulfing Blaine in a fierce hug. Unprepared for Kurt's sudden moves, Blaine ended up on his back, with Kurt straddling his waist. Laughing at their ungraceful tumble to the ground, Kurt moved so that he could help Blaine stand.

"In case my enthusiasm left doubt in your mind, my answer is yes, Blaine," Kurt said before claiming

Blaine's lips. Over and over again he dipped his tongue into the warmth of Blaine's mouth, tasting the coffee and cinnamon he'd come to associate with his boyfriend.

Kissing and nipping down Kurt's neck, Blaine moaned appreciatively when he latched on to Kurt's shoulder, dragging his teeth over the soft skin. "So glad you said yes," he murmured.

"So glad you asked," Kurt replied, hands drifting to Blaine's belt. "But … what's with the uniform, costume, whatever." Blaine's head shot up at Kurt's question, his gaze turning impossibly heated.

"A year ago there were certain things I wanted to do to you … out here … all alone. In the dark. I thought, maybe, if things went well," Blaine felt his face heat with embarrassment as he attempted to verbalize his fantasy to Kurt.

Kurt smirked, knowing exactly what Blaine needed. "Officer," he purred seductively, "I'm so sorry I ran that stop sign. My boss will fire me if I come back with a ticket. Isn't there anything – between the two of us – that I could do to convince you not to write that ticket?"

Blaine brought his hand up to cup Kurt's cheek, tracing Kurt's rosy lower lip with his thumb. After a moment, he pushed his thumb between Kurt's lips, eyes closing as Kurt began to swirl his tongue around the finger. "I'm sorry, sorry to hear that," stuttered Blaine. "But I'm sworn to enforce the laws and you broke the law."

Kurt allowed Blaine's thumb to fall from his lips, slick with moisture. "Please?" he whispered, dropping his lips a hairsbreadth from Blaine's. "I really need this job." Reaching up, Kurt began unbuttoning his coveralls, revealing his white tank top and well-muscled arms.

Turning away, Blaine took a few measured steps, staring up at the evening stars and moon. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Won't your boyfriend be upset with you?"

Biting his lip, Kurt's gaze fell to his feet, kicking at the loose dirt. "I don't have a boyfriend," he murmured. "I mean … look at me. I'm too thin and too pale and too feminine and my voice, don't even get me started on my voice. No one understands the way I dress, or what I'm in to." Channeling the way he felt as a high school student, Kurt couldn't keep the pain from seeping into his voice as he embraced this character.

"Forget it," he said glumly. "I get it. I don't blame you."

"Get what?" asked Blaine, stepping closer.

Kurt snuck a glance up before looking back down again. "Why you don't want to. With me. Can we just forget I said anything? Just write me the ticket and I'll sign it."

Taking another step forward, Blaine shook his head. "No. No I can't forget it. Because you're the hottest fucking man I've ever met – and I don't want to use you. I don't want you to walk away from what we do thinking that the only reason why it happened was because you offered sexual favors in lieu of getting out of a ticket."

"So what does that mean?" Kurt asked, wringing his hands nervously.

Blaine reached a hand out, taking a fistful of Kurt's hair, holding it tight. "I'm going to write you that ticket – because you earned it. And while I'm doing that, you're going to walk over there," he growled, using his chin to point where he wanted Kurt to go, "and shimmy yourself out of these clothes."

"Okay," Kurt agreed right before Blaine yanked him forward, crushing their lips together in a fierce kiss.

After slipping out of his boots, Kurt hitched his hips back and forth, knowing Blaine would be watching as he made his way into a clearing. "Oh, look, Officer – some seems to have left us a picnic blanket and some battery operated tea light candles. Convenient, huh?" Kurt teased as he pushed the rest of his clothing off of his body.

"Very," Blaine purred in Kurt's ear as he wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and pulled the naked man back against his chest. "Now, how about I show you my night stick?"

Sated, they lay staring up at the stars, Kurt's head resting on Blaine's stomach, as the officer ran his fingers through Kurt's hair. "We're getting married," Blaine said aloud.

Kurt hummed in agreement, coving a yawn with his fist.

"Nick wants you to know that The Warbler's Song is available to us to hold our reception. Bragged about knowing the owner," he said, stomach bouncing in amusement at the joke.

"Do you think he has something available in October?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine stilled. "Of next year?"

Kurt pushed up so he could look into Blaine's eyes. "No. I mean in two or three weeks. I don't want something big and fancy – just you and me and our friends and family. Life's too short, Blaine. And all that being said, if you would like more time to plan, then I'd be okay with waiting a little bit longer."

Snaking his hand behind Kurt's neck, Blaine pulled his fiancé down into his arms. "Let's call Nick in the morning. If they've got something available and it's not Halloween – then I say, let's do it."

"What's wrong with Halloween?" Kurt giggled.

"You're the only one that gets to see my sexy cop costume baby. The only one."

-December 22-

The darkness inside of the house was lit by the blue and red strobes of the first responders' vehicles.

Blaine and Dave, followed closely by Nathan and Casey, carefully stepped over the bodies lying just inside the family room. Holding their small flashlights above their drawn weapons, they continued their careful search deeper into the home. Blaine could hear Dave radioing in the location of the bodies, so that when they finished clearing the home, the paramedics would know directly where to come.

It was disconcerting to see a house decked out in holiday decorations, presents wrapped and placed under a tree, stockings hung on the fireplace, knowing it was probably going to be ruled a murder-suicide. Blaine could smell something still cooking in the kitchen, so he waved Casey in that direction. Generally speaking, it was frowned upon to make changes with a crime scene – but having the entire crime scene burn down because an oven was left on wasn't going to win points with the Sheriff either.

Room by room they searched the large house– for a perpetrator, for another victim, for any other signs of life. Nothing.

"I don't get it," Dave commented softly, sliding his gun back into the holster. "They've got pictures of kids on these walls. Where are they?"

Blaine shook his head and keyed his microphone. "Control, we are code 4 inside the residence. Please have EMS respond to the victims now. Sam 1, can you have someone search the garage? We believe we are looking for three children – two males, one female. We'll bring a photograph out in a moment."

Nathan popped his head the master bedroom. "Outside, before we made entry, the neighbor I spoke with said the kids were here playing in the front yard until their mom called them in and that he was sure no one had left the residence since then." He took the photo frame Dave handed him and left.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Dave's face became more serious. "They're here. They're here and we missed them. Their parents were fighting, so they hid somewhere safe. Or mom put them somewhere safe. Bottom line, we need to think like little kids. Under a bed. Back of a closet," he murmured softly.

"Let's sweep it again, back to front," Blaine said, pulling out his larger flashlight. Kneeling down, Blaine picked up the bed skirt and peered underneath. "I can report the family's cat and its collection of dusty bunnies are well, and alive, under the master bed."

Standing up, Blaine shouted, "Casey!"

"Yeah, B?"

"Need you to obtain a pet carrier and execute a rescue on Mr. Meow under the bed there," Blaine said pointing towards the corner the cat was hiding under.

"On it," Casey said, boots clomping down the hall as he went to fetch the pet carrier from his patrol car.

After Blaine walked through, Dave shut the bedroom door to keep the cat contained. They entered the door to the right, clearly the baby's nursery, finding nothing in the crib, under the crib, or in the closet.

Shutting that door behind them, Dave sighed. "We'll find them, Karofsky," Blaine assured, knowing his partner felt things harder when children were involved. Especially kids who were about the same ages as Dave's kids.

The door across the hall led them to a boy's bedroom – or boys given the bunk beds. Painted blue, the walls were covered with sports decorations and memorabilia. Again, their search under the bed, in the closet and dressers were fruitless. But Blaine's gut was tingling. When Dave went to leave, Blaine stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

"What is it?" Dave asked.

Blaine frowned. "We're missing something."

"Okay." Dave began systematically moving his flashlight over the room once again.

"Maybe she had some idea. Maybe she says, 'Let me go put the kids down, and then we can talk,' because she knows. She wants somewhere safe, where he isn't gonna find them. Where would you put your kids. Home invasion, and you've got less than two minutes. Where would Matt put them so they'd be safe?"

Dave's eyes grew slowly as a fuzzy idea became clearer in his mind. "Fuck, Anderson. The crawl space."

As a unit, the two of them lunged towards the closet, yanking out two large bins of toys. The access covering to the crawl space was raised, and probably what Blaine's subconscious had picked up on. Wedging their fingers under the lid, they yanked at the wood.

There, sitting in the dirt, in the dark, shivering in the cold December air, were the missing children. "Hi, there," Blaine said softly. "I'm Officer Blaine and this is Officer Dave. Let's get you out of there."

Blaine looked over his shoulder at Oliver, Owen, and Annie. He would stay with the children until Child Protective Services arrived to process them into emergency foster care. Along with their names, Oliver had been able to tell Blaine that he was five, Owen was two and the baby was born in September because he'd been at school that day. Near as anyone could tell, there was no other family.

Three days before Christmas.

Pulling out his phone, Blaine took the second largest risk in his life. "Hey, guys? Can you smile for Officer Blaine?" Snapping a photo, Blaine could feel himself becoming more and more attached to his small charges. This could end up breaking his heart wide open. With a few touches, he sent the photograph off to Kurt and waited.

He didn't wait long.

When the phone buzzed, he immediately accepted the call, stepping out of his patrol car so the kids couldn't overhear and began rambling. "Kurt? You know how we're approved for emergency foster care? I'd like you to meet Oliver, Owen and Annie. They're going into foster care tonight, well, as soon as CPS gets here. And it's right before Christmas, Kurt. And I don't even know if I can pull strings with the social worker, but I'd like to try. I mean, only if you're okay with it. You're okay with it, aren't you? Please say yes. Okay, no, tell me the truth, not what I wanna hear."

"Anderson!" Kurt raised his voice to cut through Blaine's monologue. "Breathe. What size diapers do we need?"

Blaine swiped at his eyes. "Do you mean it, Kurt?" he whispered.

"My husband is a sap," Kurt muttered, "Yes, of course I mean it, Blaine. If CPS will place them with us, we'll take them. All three. I'm gonna go get some stuff, just in case. Call me on my cell with where you want me to come pick them up."

Walking over, Dave pointed out a maroon car pulling up near the crime scene tape. Opening the back door, Dave bent down smiling at the small children. "How are those teddy bears working out, boys?" Dave waited for their answers of 'good' and 'fine' before winking and closing the door to keep the heat inside.

"That's the social worker," he said quietly to Blaine, "Three days before Christmas and it's three kids from the same family? Think that plays in your favor. Is that Kurt?" he asked pointing at the phone before gently taking it from Blaine's hand.

"Go talk to her and plead your case," Dave said with an encouraging squeeze to Blaine's shoulder.

"So, Kurt, let's talk best diaper brands … holy shitake mushrooms, words I never imagined coming out of my mouth in a conversation with you," Dave laughed, sliding into the front seat of Blaine's cruiser, and shutting the door to keep in the warmth.

-Christmas Day-

Their family had been unbelievable when it came to their foster charges. Once Blaine had called Kurt to confirm that social services was willing to allow the children to come to their house on a temporary basis until the family court opened after New Year's, Kurt had sent a text message to Finn, Carole and his dad. By the time he came home from picking the kids up from Blaine, Carole and his dad were making up the beds and crib. Carole had helped bathe all three kids and Burt had insisted on ordering pizza for dinner.

The next day, Dave and Matt Karofsky, their own three kids in tow, had shown up with an enormous bin of gently used clothing and a second bin of toys. Matt managed to keep the four older kids busy decorating cookies and pretzel sticks while the adults organized the clothing and took stock in what else was needed.

By lunch time, Burt and Finn were back with so many wrapped presents to put under the tree that it took them four or five trips to empty the truck. And finally, when Owen and Annie were napping, Blaine was able to gently ask Oliver what, if anything, he'd like from his old house. Shortly after Blaine sent the list via text message, Nathan arrived with a suitcase full of clothing and toys – and mostly importantly, Oliver's stuffed puppy – from the house.

The police psychologist who'd helped Blaine over the shooting incident had patiently answered all of Kurt's questions about how to approach answering the children's questions about what had happened at their house and why they were suddenly living with Kurt and Blaine. Oliver, the only one old enough to really process the change, seemed cautiously content. For now.

Last night, when Blaine helped Oliver and Owen pick out cookies to leave for Santa Claus, and carrots for the reindeer, Oliver did ask how Santa knew where they were.

Blaine had smiled reassuringly. "He's just amazing like that. Remember watching Prep & Landing today? Just like some elves prepare houses for Santa's arrival, there are elves in charge of knowing where each kid is up until Santa's sleigh leaves - and even after that, I'm fairly certain that Santa' s sleigh is equipped with the latest computer technology, so they could send him updates of someone moves after he's left the North Pole."

Oliver had nodded seriously. "That makes sense, Officer Blaine."

It was now late afternoon on Christmas Day. The kids had gleefully unwrapped their stockings and the presents under the tree while Kurt and Blaine mentally attempted to figure out where they would store everything. In the middle of fixing waffles and bacon for breakfast, Burt and Carole had arrived.

Standing in the doorway watching, Kurt dropped his chin on Blaine's shoulder, reaching to take Blaine's hand. "If I'd known how they would have reacted, I would have saved the money and not bothered to buy them gifts. Seems grandkids are what they really wanted for Christmas," he murmured in Blaine's ear before placing kiss on his cheek.

Sitting in Burt's recliner, Carole held the baby, Annie, feeding her a bottle and rocking her to sleep as Oliver and Owen snuggled with Burt, all three sleepily watching A Christmas Story on the television.

"Let's go make some hot chocolate and apple cider for everyone," Kurt said, pulling at Blaine's hand to encourage him to follow.

Kurt pulled out one pot for the hot chocolate and another for the cider as he busied himself making the drinks. "Blaine? What if we have to give them up?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Blaine tugged gently on Kurt's belt until his husband turned to face him. Cupping Kurt's cheek, Blaine kissed him softly. "How about, for today, we just enjoy them … this. Don't borrow trouble. Not today, at least."

Wrapping his arms around Blaine, Kurt rested his forehead against Blaine's. "Okay. Sounds good. Merry Christmas, Blaine."

"Merry Christmas, Kurt."

Pulling away, Kurt tilted his head and smirked. "Still want five kids, Anderson?

"Six," Blaine answered huskily, slipping his hands down to cup Kurt's ass before claiming his lips in a wet, dirty kiss.

Epilogue

~Four years later~

Deputy Blaine Anderson had worked swing shift – 1700hrs to 0300 – for almost ten years. At 38, he had enough seniority with the Allen County Sheriff's Office to be able to put in – and get – his most desired shift. For Blaine, that still meant working his 40 hours, Tuesday through Friday, on the third shift. Swing shift now provided him with the opportunity to be home in the mornings, get the kids ready for school, and drop them off. It made him feel like an equal member of the parenting equation with Kurt.

Despite words of encouragement from his colleagues and friends, Blaine didn't intend to apply for promotion to sergeant. Ever. Working patrol was where he was meant to be; it was where he made a difference. Married to Kurt for almost four years now, they had settled into their roles as parents almost as smoothly as they had their relationship. There were ups and downs occasionally – but for the most part, the Anderson-Hummel family was content. And complete.

Oliver, Owen and Annie took great pleasure in pointing out the spot where Blaine and Kurt first met, every time they drove past. And once a year, on the anniversary of that fateful night, Blaine and Kurt, with sons and daughter in tow, would go out to that patch of dirt to have a picnic lunch and reminisce.

Years ago, when Nick Duvall had stood up to give his toast at their wedding, he had mentioned how Blaine and Kurt had been sentenced to a life together, without the possibility of parole. At that point, Jeff had reached over, attaching shiny silver handcuffs to the men's wrists. Everyone had laughed and the two of them had continued eating and dancing despite the small hindrance.

During their spot light dance, slowly rocking back and forth to Come What May, it had been Blaine who'd whispered in Kurt's ear, "You've had me handcuffed to you since the start, Mr. Hummel. And I never, not once, thought about looking for the key."

End Note: There it is folks. Loved writing this for you. Would like to give special thanks to BilliMonroe for being my sounding board, Charleygyrl for your nearly instantaneous reviews ;-D, sweetheartgml, Chrisch and Aranna Uudomiel for your support & encouragement. Stay safe and never fly faster than your guardian angel can fly. -k8