Author’s note: Another story in this verse I hadn’t really planned, but after listening to this beautiful song by Marisa Monte -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wh8vUGZORlw - I just couldn’t resist. If it gets too sugary, what I do believe it will, try the Spongebob toothpaste afterwards; my youngest nephew used to love it when he was Ben’s age. Still unbetaed, so sorry for any possible mistakes. And remember that feedback is loved, cherished and framed!
*g*l*e*e*
Benfday: A Prelude
“Yeah, baby, that’s right. Now open your mouth wide, like Spongebob dude over there,” shirtless Noah said, pointing his nose to the tube of toothpaste on the bathroom counter.
In the mirror Ben’s mouth grew wider and wider until he looked almost like a panicked cartoon, too cute for his own good.
“That’s it baby, well done,” Noah praised Ben when the baby turned equally wide blue eyes towards him.
Behind them, Kurt was registering the whole night ritual with his blackberry.
“Now we use your toothbrush to make circles on your teeth, like this.” Noah gently held Ben’s hand and started helping him move the Spongebob toothbrush along their baby boy’s teeth. “Can you do it by yourself now?”
At Ben’s nod, Noah wrapped an arm around their baby’s middle and stood guard next to Ben, who was kneeling down on the counter in Kurt’s ensuite bathroom while brushing his teeth in deep concentration.
“That’s it, son. The back teeth… Yeah, that’s right. Now the other side and you’ll be all done. No, Ben, don’t swallow. Here, get some water and do this,” Noah moved his cheeks as if swirling a mouth full of water. “Can you do that? Okay then, big guy, here you go.” Noah brought the Spongebob plastic cup that came with Ben’s toothbrush kit to the baby’s mouth, so he could take a mouthful of water and do as their Nono had taught him.
“Good, baby. Now you spit and that’s it. Let me see; give me a toothy smile… Yeah, now show me your guns and the chicks in daycare won’t stand a chance,” Noah said flexing a bicep that had gotten even more defined - and better - with age.
Kurt rolled his eyes when Ben did the same, but his men were too cute together to make him really mind.
“Now wave at your silly Papa and say goodbye.”
"Bye, Papa.”
“Bye, Ben.”
Kurt switched the blackberry to picture mode and got himself on his tiptoes behind Noah, rested his chin on a broad shoulder and snapped a picture of the three of them bearing grins worthy of their own centerfold magazine toothpaste advertisement. It had very little to do with the bubble flavored toothpaste Ben barely tolerated and more with the moment they were living.
They had just gotten back from Chick-fill-A where the three of them along with Noah’s assistant Justine and her two little girls had celebrated the baby’s second birthday with a meal that didn’t make Kurt frown in disgust due to its nutritious value (for Kurt and Ben; not so much for Noah for the wrong reasons) and that had finished with Ben blowing a candle the evening manager had stuck in his brownie while Kurt, Noah, Justine and her girls sang Happy Birthday, even if Ben had turned two on Wednesday and today was Friday.
Now they were all back to Kurt’s for an early night because tomorrow they were having an equally early morning, hitting the road back to Lima to have a weekend celebration at Kurt’s parent’s with their family and friends.
And the Evans. And Noah’s Ma and Nana.
By the power of Versace, McQueen and any other deity somewhere out there watching over us, please have mercy on* me*.
“You finished packing?” Noah asked lowering Ben to the floor and patting the baby’s bottom as he dashed to Kurt’s bedroom, probably to get himself into the suitcase in their bed that Kurt was using to pack their clothes. “Remember we’ll be there just for two days, princess. No need to take your whole wardrobe with us.”
“As if I would get tips from someone whose closet has more flannels than I would care to get in contact with in my lifetime,” Kurt said wrapping his arms around Noah’s neck. “The only trouble I’m having is to select something for you to wear that isn’t made of the aforementioned atrocity or jersey.”
His boyfriend wasn’t that much taller than him, but if Kurt wanted to kiss Noah like this, having his lover’s old high school jersey Kurt liked to wear for bed brush all the extension of Noah’s broad bare chest, his boxer clad pelvis rasp against the cotton of Noah’s pajamas bottom while they all but swallowed each other’s tongue and spit, Kurt had to get himself back on his tiptoes.
“You like my jerseys, and I look good in flannels,” Noah said suckling on Kurt’s bottom lip.
“Only when I’m wearing them, and let me tell you a secret,” Kurt retorted pressing himself further along Noah’s body to whisper in his ear. “You don’t look good in flannels. You make them look good on you.”
Noah grinned against his lips. “Is that a compliment?”
“No, Puckerman, just my admission of defeat in this unfair war.”
“Guess it’s time to fuck you wearing just your favorite one then, pound into you until you better appreciate them,” Noah whispered in his ear before kissing him one last time and letting Kurt’s shivering self go. “Ben, time for bed, son; come kiss Papa nite-nite.”
Ben walked back into the bathroom rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his Sesame Street pajamas and at a way more sedated pace than when he had first left.
“Nite-nite, Papa,” he yawned once Kurt picked him up and pecked his face.
"Nite-nite, my precious. Sleep tight and I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early.”
Kurt turned off the light and followed them back to his bedroom. Thankfully Ben hadn’t unpacked anything that was already in the suitcase, so Kurt just had to accommodate his and Noah’s shirts he had left to pack last because they were a bitch to iron while Noah got Ben settled for the night.
And just as his boyfriend was carrying Ben to the nursery, Kurt threw over his shoulder, “I abhor the green one the least.”
Noah winked and smirked at him, stirring to life something Kurt really hadn’t planned on using tonight, but, well, c’est la vie.
“Be back in ten, Princess.”
True to his word, sometime around the clock later Kurt was thrashing under the weight of Noah’s sweaty body moving over and inside of his own as the flap of the green flannel Noah was wearing brushed his sides, tensing the inside of his tights around Noah’s hips as he gasped his lover’s name and forgot his, relaxing in the little cocoon of perfection they had created for themselves and wrapped with that thing Kurt accepted as being the biggest part of them, but that he still shall not name.
He just let go.
Kurt let go because Ben and Noah were there, and they would still be there in the morning and later in the evening as they faced their whole family at once for the first time.
Kurt let go because he knew Noah was scared too, but that his lover was finally starting to believe Kurt really wanted this, what they had created together to take this risk and follow him and their baby to the end of the world if necessary.
Kurt let go knowing that if he ever fell, Noah and their baby would be there to cushion his fall because that was what perfection was made of; that was what Sam had made Kurt promise he would find again for himself and for their newborn baby when the day Sam would leave them finally came:
Happiness.
*g*l*e*e*
Thanks for reading.