Author's Note: Uh... Apologies about how long this took. I've had the idea for ages (since about the third chapter, actually, and a lot of you predicted it. Hooray for obvious plot endings!) and it's been half done on my computer for at least a week, but life just got in the way...

Anyway, moving on. It's the last one, guys! Thank you so much for all your lovely messages and reviews! (I'll carry on with my love fest later; you probably want to get on with reading)

Disclaimer – Yes, we're all well aware that I don't own Glee. But that's okay. I can accept that.

Wes knocked on the door, carefully adjusting the mountain of parcels under his arm as he listened to the frantic running and yelling coming from inside the house. Eventually, a very worn out looking Blaine answered the door, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Wes, you're early. Why're you early? Never mind, come in. Kurt's just trying to get Alex to wear his diaper. He's reached the stage where he's realised that if he runs off, Kurt can't put it on." Blaine sighed ruefully and stepped aside, allowing Wes to shuffle in.

"David here yet?" Blaine shook his head, and then shouted up the stairs,

"Elizabeth! Downstairs, now!" There was an irritated shriek from upstairs, followed by the sound of stamping feet across the hall and stairs.

"Dad, don't call me that! It makes me sound like an old – oh, hi, Uncle Wes, are those all for me?" She pointed excitedly at the presents under Wes's arm.

"Of course, I have to spoil my favorite goddaughter."

"I'm your only goddaughter." But she took the parcels from him and practically skipped into the sitting room. She weaved her way gracefully around the still diaper-free Alex, who had come running into the hall at the sound of voices.

"Uncle Wes!" He held out his arms expectantly.

"Sorry, little man, I'm not picking you up, you might pee on me again."

"Alex, where's Daddy Kurt? And your brother, for that matter?" Blaine asked. Alex just shrugged, his arms still spread wise. He was staring at Wes with a glare that he had obviously learnt from Kurt.

"Well, I'm here, and I think Mark's still sleeping. Hi, Wes," Kurt said, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway, waving a diaper like it was a weapon. Alex squealed in excitement and took off at a run; Blaine sighed.

"Honestly, that boy... Mark!" He almost marched up the stairs, and Kurt grinned tiredly at Wes.

"Sorry about this. We were hoping no one would come early, because we'd planned to be all sitting serenely in the sitting room like a normal family when people arrived. Instead, you're greeted by a naked child, a sleeping child, and a child who'd better not be opening her birthday presents!" He shouted the latter part, and it was followed by a guilty splutter from the sitting room. Kurt shrugged. "Well, you're not the only early one – Finn and Rachel are already here; go make yourself comfortable while I attempt to clothe my son." He took off at a run up the stairs, leaving Wes to go into the sitting room.

"Uncle Wes," Lizzie said promptly as soon as she caught sight of him. "Not that I know what you've got me, but thank you for the new straighteners – mine sucked. And thank you for the books. And the sweets. And the new bag. And-"

"Dude, we tried to stop her opening presents, but she's like some sort of demon," Finn said from the sofa, where Rachel was curled up against his shoulder.

"No problem, Lizzie," Wes said. "Oh, and when David finally gets here, we can give you our joint present." Rachel scoffed.

"Now you know exactly how we feel, Wesley. We've been here for hours."

"That's because you were convinced that we'd been invited to come over at ten." Finn looked at Wes exasperatedly. "I mean, really, who invites people over at ten? But Rachel was adamant, so we came for just before ten. And ended up sat on the doorstep for an hour, because everyone was asleep and couldn't hear us when we rang the doorbell."

"Dads' weren't asleep," Lizzie said, still staring longingly at her presents.

"What were they doing, then, and why the hell didn't they open the door?" Rachel slapped Finn on the shoulder.

"Finn, mind your language! We're guests." Meanwhile, Lizzie's cheeks had gone pink, and she was giving Finn a look that plainly said 'Don't ask questions, I don't want to talk about this.'

"They were getting down and dirty," Mark supplied helpfully, shuffling into the sitting room and rubbing his face in a very Blaine way.

"Yeah, I'm definitely sure you shouldn't know what that is," Finn said, looking to Rachel fir support, who was too preoccupied with smothering her laughter. Mark just sighed.

"I'm thirteen, Uncle Finn, you seem to forget that. Liz, are you planning to open your presents any time soon? Only I want to go back to bed, but Dad told me I had to at least pretend to tolerate your presence today."

"Mark, be nice to your sister, it's her birthday," Kurt said, hauling a now fully clothed Alex into the room over his shoulder. Mark just rolled his eyes. "Anyone heard from David and Mercedes? Dad and Carole want us over before eight tonight, so I need to finish packing."

"David just texted me," Blaine said, walking into the room and waving his phone around like a mad man. "They're supposedly a few minutes away. Which, in David language, means they should be here right-" the doorbell rang. "Now." Blaine walked back out to answer the door, and then voices drifted into the room.

"...Traffic was awful-"

"That's because you hit an animal."

"You have no proof of that."

"Why, because the animal is now unidentifiable due to its remains resembling a smear on our tyres as opposed to a living thing?"

"Precisely. Happy birthday, Lizzie!" David walked in breezily, followed by Mercedes, who was struggling with a huge pile of parcels. Kurt scowled at David, before going to help Mercedes with the teetering pile.

"David, why have you left Mercedes to carry all the presents in? And was it necessary to buy that much – we spoil her enough as it is."

"Mercedes lost our bet, so she got to carry the presents in. I won, so-"

"David, if this is anything to do with S-E-X, don't say it now." There was an awkward pause, and then Mark said coolly,

"We can all spell, Dad."

"What's sex?" Alex asked promptly. Kurt sighed.

"Yes, Blaine, explain to our son what you just spelt."

"I'll tell you when you're married." Kurt just rolled his eyes at Blaine's response before standing up.

"Do any of you want anything to drink?" There were various grunts of approval. Lizzie was preoccupied with the new bracelet Mark had supposedly bought her – Kurt was the one who had actually spent money – Mercedes was whispering furiously in David's ear, Mark was staring into space, Rachel was attempting to get Finn to promise to take her to see 'Wicked' again, and Blaine was just watching the scenario bemusedly.

"Was that supposed to be a positive response from all of you? Because, you know, none of you actually gave me an idea of what you'd like to drink." Nobody responded, so Kurt sighed, frustrated. "Fine. You're all getting prune juice mixed with protein shake."

"Are you still trying to get through that protein shake?" Mercedes said, turning to look at Kurt. He shook his head exasperatedly.

"We think she got us a subscription. It arrives by the case every month, and the delivery guys refuse to take it back. I'd consider writing to her, but I don't think a letter would get through addressed to 'Sue Sylvester, The Depths Of Cheerleading Hell'. Blaine, could you help me with the drinks?" They both walked out of the sitting room, and Mark raised his eyebrows.

"'Come help me with the drinks'... Blatant euphemism."

"Lizzie," David said, producing a surreptitiously hidden parcel from under his sweater. "Present from me and Wes." Mercedes coughed. "Mercedes helped a bit, too. Sort of. Don't show your parents."

"Is it rude?" Lizzie said excitedly, shaking the box shaped parcel and listening for any rattling.

"Not really-"

"There were a few swear words," Wes pointed out, to which David nodded.

"Don't open it yet. Go hide it somewhere, and look at it later."

"Dear God, it's the Best Man Fisticuffs all over again.

'Fisticuffs'? I'm surprised you're not challenging me to a mid-morning duel."

Lizzie turned the page, half expecting a new chapter, more information – something. This... book, for lack of a more appropriate term, had taught her a lot about her parents. How they did, indeed, used to be quite awesome, and how they had all these really cool friends. It had made her laugh, cheer and, occasionally, cry. Granted, there was rather a lot more singing than she was accustomed to from regular people, but she gathered that that was just the 'Glee Effect'. As a matter of fact, this book was actually making her seriously consider joining her own school's Glee club next year.

However, Uncle Wes and Uncle David's Chronicles had just finished, and she wasn't entirely sure what to do with all of this information. Publish it? Read it as a bedtime story to Alex? Show her friends? Lizzie flicked through the remaining pages aimlessly and, on one of the very back pages, came across a hastily scrawled note, in horrendous handwriting.

"Lizzie," the note began.

"As the eldest Klaine child, we solemnly bequeath the Chronicles of Klaine to you. It is your duty to record the happenings of Kurt and Blaine for future generations, so their story never dies.

Uncle David and Wes

(Oh, and P.S. – you have to show Alex too (because I bet Mark's reading over your shoulder as you're reading this)" Lizzie looked up and, sure enough, Mark was stood next to her, grinning sheepishly. She sighed and continued to read. "But you don't necessarily have to let him write in it. Though that'd probably be a good idea, because you're not going to live at home forever. Actually, none of you are, but Alex is going to be around for at least another fifteen years.)

Mark, are you sure typing it up isn't cheating?

Lizzie, Uncle Wes and Uncle David used a computer. People's handwriting doesn't normally look like that. Plus your handwriting is shocking.

Oh. Yeah, that's a good point... I don't know what we should write about, you know?

Me neither... Hey, what about that time...

"Eggs?" Kurt said, holding said eggs in the air questioningly. Blaine shook his head.

I still don't understand why you get to do the writing. And why're you calling Dads by their actual names?

Because I'm older, and it's my birthday. And in case you've forgotten, we have two Dads, so calling them both 'Dad' would just confuse everyone involved.

"Kurt, we get through so many eggs, we might as well just buy a chicken," said Blaine, from where he was trying to decide between grape or orange juice. It was the weekly shop, and Kurt and Blaine were getting increasingly stressed. I tried to keep out of it, mainly by gluing myself to my phone. However, I couldn't help overhearing their conversations.

"We can't buy a chicken, Blaine, because you wouldn't feed it, I wouldn't feed it, the kids sure as hell wouldn't feed it, and then all its chicken brethren would attack and kill us. Have you seen 'Chicken Run'?"

"Well, yes, but I don't see what 'Chicken Run' has to do with-"

"Dad," Mark yelled from the end of the aisle. "I've just seen Joe, is it okay if I go into town with him?" He didn't wait for a response – just took off at a run, sliding along the shop floor like an inline skater.

"Yeah, sure, why not? Okay, Dad, thanks. Oh, no problem, Mark, love you. Love you too, Dad," Blaine muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He turned to Kurt. "I miss when they were small. Alex doesn't really count, because he gets naked all the... Alexander, pull your trousers back up!" He chased after my half-naked brother, shouting apologies at innocent shoppers. Kurt just sighed, before looking at me.

"Lizzie, do you think we need eggs?"

Wes paused, looking at the two children, who were staring up at him hopefully. He had just finished reading their first entry, and it seemed to be lacking something... Well, quite a lot, if he was honest with himself.

"Um..." Luckily, David had no qualms over hurting the feelings of children, because he piped up,

"You're not really grasping the concept of this. No one cares about Klaine shopping trips, in which they decide whether or not to buy eggs. If Wes and I had included every single Klaine interaction, we wouldn't have written a book. It'd be an internet search engine."

"Well, what else are we supposed to write?" Lizzie said exasperatedly, crossing her arms and spinning around in her computer chair. "They don't do anything. The last time Dad Blaine serenaded Dad Kurt was for their anniversary years ago, where he sang this really old song by Hayley Berry or someone." David flinched.

"If your parents were dead, they'd be rolling in their graves." He turned to Wes. "Well, Wesley, I guess it's official. Kurt and Blaine are old and boring. I bet they just spend their free time looking over bank statements and buying socks."

"It's just so tragic," Wes replied, pretending to wipe away a tear. "Guys, I just want to tell you that there was a time, long ago, when your parents were the coolest people we knew. Let this be a warning to us all – getting old kills your coolness." Everyone looked down solemnly.

It's times like this, Blaine thought happily, that I could consider just locking our children in the basement until they're ready to leave home. He moaned as Kurt bit gently on his lip, but that moan quickly turned to a whine when Kurt pulled his lips away.

"Blaine," he said slowly, staring at the bookshelf and sitting up. "Did you put that book there?" Blaine looked over at the bookshelf and, sure enough, there was a new, thick book tucked in between two photo albums. However, he really couldn't bring himself to care.

"Kurt, I feel quite hurt that I was quite happily making out with you, yet you're so easily distracted by books." He sat up and kissed Kurt's nose, making him giggle. "Let it go." With that, he pushed Kurt down so that he could straddle him, and Kurt moaned happily into Blaine's mouth as he rolled his hips, but pushed Blaine away.

"I can't. I'm curious now. Get off, I want to see what it is." He scrambled up off the couch as Blaine groaned.

"I swear, Kurt, you'll be the death of me. You're wasting valuable Kid Sleeping Time looking at books, when we could be making out on this sofa, by reading." Kurt shrugged as he took the book out from the bookshelf. He then pulled Blaine up into a sitting position, sat down next to him, and propped the book up on both of their laps.

They sat in silence for a few minutes – Kurt's eyebrows raised further and further up his forehead, while Blaine's jaw dropped to almost tunnel proportions.

"Is this... Blaine, it's not... It's like a bloody novel!" Kurt flicked through the pages, spluttering every so often. "Blaine, they were everywhere!"

"Everywhere? Even when we-" Kurt squeaked in horror and started flicking quicker. "Kurt, slow down, I'm trying to read this! I want to – wait, stalker?" He grabbed Kurt's hands to stop him turning the pages and read a few paragraphs, before spluttering, "They're making me out to be some psycho creep! What about all the times you stalked me, huh? Where are they in this book?" Blaine pulled the book so that it was resting completely on his lap, and continued to flick. Kurt scoffed.

"Please, name one time I stalked you."

"Well, there was that time you sent Mercedes after me when I was supposed to be buying my wedding tux, because you wanted to make sure I bought the right one..."

"But that wasn't me, was it?" Kurt grinned smugly, pushing his hair back with his fingers.

"Fine, what about that time at school when I was in the library, and you just 'happened' to turn up?"

"What, and 'happened' to not notice you, and 'happened' to do my French project on the other side of the library?" He sat back on the couch, his hands behind his head, and looked at Blaine out of the corner of his eyes. "Admit it, I'm not a crazed stalker like you."

"Really? What about when we first met, and you followed me to the Warblers rehearsal?"

"You told me to!"

"Oh. Yeah. Okay, I've got one. Back before we dated, you followed me because you thought I'd stolen your scarf."

"And you had stolen my scarf, so my stalking was completely justified."

"So you admit, it was stalking?"

"...Yes, okay, I admit it." Blaine cheered and threw an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Shut up, you wake up the kids and we'll have even less time together!" Blaine grinned sheepishly, to which Kurt kissed him chastely. "You're so cute sometimes."

"I try," Blaine shrugged. "How long do you think David and Wes were planning this?"

"Years, I think. I mean, some of these entries seem to have been written before we even got married. We should call them, say thank you – it's such a lovely thing to do."

"What, make me out to be a stalker? Yes, simply spiffing." Kurt chose to ignore Blaine's comment, instead pulling out his phone.

There were many things David disliked about his friends. Wes, when he was on a winning streak on COD. Blaine, when he went all moody for various reasons. His work colleague Jenny tended to spit on him while she talked. Generally, however, he quite liked Kurt.

Except when Kurt forgot that most people have regular sleeping hours, and he rang in the early morning.

"Kurt, why?" Was his greeting that night. Or, early morning, as the case was. Mercedes stirred.

"Hi, David, how are you?"

"Kurt, why?" David said louder, and Mercedes whined in her sleep.

"David, be quiet, I'm trying to sleep. If that's my baby boy on the phone, tell him to bloody go to sleep, like normal people." She turned over, and was asleep in seconds. David sighed and got up, knowing that Kurt would probably want a conversation lasting more than an hour.

"Kurt, why are you calling me now? You may be one of my closest friends, but I don't appreciate being called at-"

"Thank you," Kurt blurted down the phone. David's eyebrows raised, making his eyes wide.

"For what?"

"For the book." The book, the book... David looked around the kitchen – where he'd migrated to – for inspiration. His eyes fell on his laptop, and realisation hit him.

"Oh. The Chronicle. You found it, huh?"

"Yeah. Lizzie didn't hide it very well."

"Apparently not." There was an awkward silence as David waited for Kurt to explode at the 'invasion of privacy', but instead he was greeted with a chuckle down the phone.

"It's really cute. And I like the fact that I'm portrayed as the sane one. By the way, Blaine wants me to tell you, and I quote, that 'I don't want to speak to you or Wes ever again!' He's not happy at his representation in the book. I personally find it quite accurate" There was an indignant splutter down the phone that David assumed came from Blaine.

"Well, we really enjoyed writing it. I'll admit-"

"Listen, David, I'm going to have to cut you off," came Blaine's irritated voice down the phone. "I barely spend time with my husband nowadays as it is, and talking to you is cutting into that time. So, so long, farewell, auf wiedersehn, adieu."

"I can't believe you're quoting 'Sound Of Music' at... Hello? Bastard." David hung up the phone irritably, having ended up talking to the dial tone.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispered. Once again, they were curled up, half asleep, on the couch, which Blaine found pretty ironic. They had a huge, incredibly comfortable bed upstairs, yet they seemed to spend most of their nights asleep in the sitting room, and neither of them were entirely sure why.

"Hmm?" Kurt replied sleepily from behind him – he was the big spoon that night.

"Do you think we really have gotten boring? Because we don't have adventures like we used to, and-" Kurt snorted quietly.

"'Adventures'? What are we, seven? And do you really think I'd still be here if you'd gotten boring?" Blaine nudged him playfully with his elbow, before snuggling closer.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think you're boring."

"Blaine, I've never doubted my coolness for a second. But I appreciate the sentiment." They were quiet for a few minutes. It was these moments that Blaine still felt like a teenager experiencing his first love. Which, in a way, he was.

"Kurt?" Blaine repeated, to which Kurt muttered nonsense in response. "I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

Blaine, I really don't see what the point of this is. Isn't it just plagiarising on David and Wes's idea?

No, Kurt, it isn't. What's wrong with just putting our version of events out there?

Because they've already done it? Seriously, Blaine, they've covered everything. This would just be dragging it out for the sake of it.

But Kurt... They've made me sound weird. We need to rewrite it!

No, Blaine. When you told me you wanted my help with some work, I didn't think it would be to help you write 'Klaine – The Blaine and Kurt Response'.

Kurt, you'd help me if you loved me...

And this is me helping. Give up. They've written it far better than we could ever have done.

But I really want to write something to show how much I love you.

This is why we should sleep at night. You become increasingly corny with tiredness. Blaine, I know you love me. You serenade me God knows how many times a week, even now. And even though there aren't people watching you serenade me nowadays, it's still romantic, and cheesy, and overall Blaine, and... Are you crying?

What? No, of course not.

You really need to sleep more.

Mr Hummel-Anderson, is that your euphemism for getting me into bed?

No, actually. You genuinely need to sleep more.

Oh. So, what do I do with this Word document then, if you're refusing to help me write it?

Delete it. Come on, Blaine, it's three in the morning, we should be sleeping.

Yeah, I'll be right up... Okay, he's gone. Well, readers, I'd like to let you know that I'm not a crazy stalker, I don't have hyperactivity issues, and most of what you read here was a lie. Except the part about how much I love Kurt. That was true. And the proposal. That was also true, and devised purely by me. And another thing –

Blaine, who the hell are you talking to? That's it, you've left me no choice. I'm literally going to carry you away from the computer.

"Wes?" David said at their weekly coffee meet-up. Wes looked up from his coffee. "I feel lost."

"Well, David, we're currently in our regular coffee shop-"

"No, Wes. I mean, knowing that there's nothing else to write about Klaine, I feel like my life's not got a purpose. Like I've told my story, you know?" Wes stared at David incredulously.

"That's ridiculous. There'll always be stories to tell about them. They're like Romeo and Juliet, just without the death. They're like Angel and Collins – again, without the death. They're like..." Wes paused, taking a sip of coffee.

"Edward and Bella, just without the vampirism. Although the creepy stalking is accurate." Wes spat the coffee at an unfortunate woman sitting on the table opposite. Once he had apologised profusely, ran to get napkins to clean her up, and apologised some more he sat down and raised his eyebrows.

"I can't believe you just compared 'Klaine' to... I don't know what they're called, 'Bedward'? You know what, I don't want to know, and I want to forget this conversation forever."


"No buts. Don't talk anymore, unless you want to leave yourself unredeemable in my eyes."

Author's Note: Phew. It's done. My baby's done.

Again, apologies for the delay. School is just my top priority at the moment – as such, there won't be any multi-chapter fics until after my exams (so, late June). There'll probably be a few one shots, so if you're suffering from desperate withdrawal from my writing (PAHAHAHAHA) feel free to check back on my page every so often.

Right, the thankings... I can't name you all by name, unfortunately, but to anybody and everybody who reviewed, alerted, favourited, etc. etc... Thank you. You have no idea how much every single notification made my day – I've been happy for months now, and people are even commenting on how happy I seem lately. And that's all because of this, so... Thanks.

(Is it strange that I feel compelled to turn this into an Oscar win speech? Yes? Okay.)

Finally, one quick note... Can somebody make me an idiot's guide to Tumblr? Because I really want to get into it, but my dashboard is empty and boring. And, quite frankly, crap. And then I see all these pretty Tumblrs, and then look at mine... Meh.

So, I bid you adieu, I will be back during my epically long summer (Some of June, all of July, all of August and most of September – woo!) and I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!