(A/N: So, I saw this beautiful pic by Muchacha10 on DA -simply one of the greatest, best Klaine artists +and artists in general+ of the internet- and I totally said "IMMA MAKE A STORY FOR THIS OMG IT'S SO CUTE ANSHFGKDNDNBVAIE 8D" So I did XD. I got permission from the artist herself and I really hope she likes this!

Anyway, this is just a Klaine future!fic because I adore them and because the pic had sorta that theme, where Blaine and Kurt have a cute son with Blaine's curly black hair. I named the son, made a story for him, and squeezed him into what I think would be the couple's life in a future.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Glee, nor Kurt or Blaine, nor the pic! They belong to Ryan Murphy and Muchacha10 respectively, and if you could check out the pic I'm telling you about -which is called just like this: "Stroll In The Park"- well, that'd be awesome! :3 Enjoy and review!)

Sunlight swept across the entire room, making its way inside through the halfway beige open blinds. Kurt Hummel-Anderson heard the love of his life—a handsome curly-haired brown-eyed man that went by the name of Blaine Anderson-Hummel—groan, and he felt how his darling wrapped an arm around him. He smiled to himself and let out a small sigh through his nose.

"Good morning," he said.

His reply came not too late afterwards. "Good morning, Sally."

Kurt chuckled at the nickname, leaning back against the warm embrace of the body behind him. "Good morning, Harry," he said.

Blaine kissed the back of his head. "I love it when you call me that."

Kurt turned around and planted a sweet kiss on his husband's lips. "Do you have to work today?"

"Thankfully no," Blaine answered, kissing Kurt back, "which I'm truly thankful for, because if I recall correctly, you promised Chris we'd take him to a stroll at the park today."

His dearly beloved hid his head on his chest. "Is that today?"

"Yes, Sally, it's today." Blaine caressed Kurt's hair, one of the few privileges he had as his husband.

"Can you take him?"

Blaine laughed slightly with humor. "Ah, no, no," he said, patting Kurt's head. "You said you would take him—I just agreed to come along. And don't even start with the 'he loves you more, anyway' argument; I'm not buying it this time." Kurt fumed against Blaine's chest and smacked his arm playfully. "I know you're tired, baby," Blaine kissed the side of his love's head, "but it's just a stroll in the park. It probably won't take us too long. Besides, it's not much time the one we get to spend with him." Then he went to his side of the bed and walked into the restroom while Kurt leaned against his pillow, covering up to his head with the blanket. The sound of the shower turning on ran through his ears, lulling him back to sleep.

Kurt knew Blaine was right. Damn him, he was always right. Or at least most of the time, he was. With Blaine working as a musical producer and Kurt directing his own fashion magazine, they had little to no time to spend with their only child. No matter how tired he was, he couldn't back out of this. His little boy had been waiting for this day.

A few seconds later, a small creaking was heard. "Daddy?" a little voice said in a hushed whisper. "Daddy?" A mass of black curls over the head of a young, wee child with green-blue-grayish eyes stepped into the room.

Kurt could hear the voice of his baby boy calling him, but he couldn't get himself to really wake up. This last week had been the busiest in a very long time. First of all, he hadn't had this much work ever since before little Chris came into their lives, and even though he loved nothing more than to see his son happy, Kurt was exhausted. He'd made that promise before knowing how tired he'd be today.

"Daddy," little Chris said, climbing into the bed by Kurt's side. "Daddy," he repeated, a little louder, softly shaking Kurt. "Are you awake?"

Kurt made a little "mhh" sound in response.

"Papa said you do that when you pretend to be asleep but you're really awake."

His dear daddy immediately turned around on his side. "Papa said what?"

"I'm innocent!" came a reply from the shower. Little Chris covered his mouth with both of his tiny hands.

"I wasn't supposed to say that or Papa would get in trouble!" he cried silently. "No, Daddy, Papa didn't tell me anything!"

Kurt actually laughed at this. Their baby boy was just too adorable. He patted the child's hair, ruffling the black curls he got from his father. "Don't worry, Chris, Papa's not in trouble." Chris uncovered his mouth, balling up his fists in front of his face, and sighed in relief.

"Daddy, we're still going to the park today, right?" Kurt considered the boy's question. Well, he didn't really consider it—the decision was already done. He just marveled on the innocence before him: how Chris wrapped his finger in one of the many curls on his head and twisted it around. Instead of making the typical "puppy" eyes, he did that. It was even more difficult to resist. Way to break the stereotype, Kurt thought with a smile. Just like his father.

"Of course we're going, little guy."

"Yay!" Chris exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air just as Blaine got out of the shower dressed in a plain purple tee and jeans, drying off his hair. "Papa, we're going to the park! Can we go to that coffee shop with the window where I can watch the pond?"

Kurt smiled at the exchange between the other two members of his small family. Blaine carried Chris upside down and began to spin around—the little boy laughed hysterically. Blaine finally put him down after a while and went downstairs to make some pancakes. The boy grabbed his hand and accompanied him to the kitchen.

Kurt adored the sound of his son's laughter as much as he loved to make him happy. And knowing how joyful it made Chris's heart to spend time with his dads was just the best thing in the entire world. A few hours less of sleep were totally worth to see a smile light up his angelical face. Kurt often wondered how little Chris would be and look like when he was older. Now, at the age of 4, he was terribly adorable, and his singing skills had already begun to develop. He loved to sing along with every Disney movie the three of them watched together on Friday nights when they had their marathons, and he excelled at it. He was also starting to indulge into the "right statements of fashion," as Kurt called them. Chris Anderson-Hummel was the sweetest, cutest 4 year old boy in all of New York.

Chris had been born thanks to a surrogate mother—Sandra Lewis—a very good friend of Blaine's, actually. Blaine and Kurt had decided a long time ago that they'd like to be parents, and they wanted the child to have one of them as his biological father. When they informed Sandra about it in a lunch they'd planned to just sit down and talk of nothing, she'd immediately volunteered. Both Blaine and Kurt had explained to her that it wasn't as easy as she thought, that there were risks, that maybe she wouldn't want to give up the baby after he or she was born, but Sandra stood her ground.

"Besides, I couldn't possibly take care of a child," she'd said.

The next nine months were both painful and exciting for the three of them. Kurt and Blaine always checked up on Sandra to see how she was doing. There were times when she seemed so happy to be carrying a baby that the couple were afraid she'd want to keep him or her. At the end, though, she still didn't change her mind: "I already told you guys; I could never be a mother."

Finally, on October 30th, while Blaine and Kurt were at Broadway in a special anniversary performance of Wicked (after having asked Sandra around a thousand times if she didn't need them to stay and at last leaving when she insisted), Blaine received a distress call from Sandra's sister, Esme, who told him that their surrogate was in labor. When they finally got to the hospital, Kurt was forced to wait outside. Blaine would've stayed, too, but his friend inside the room was literally yelling for him to get his "FREAKING SINGER ASS IN HERE!"

After four difficult hours, at 10:27 P.M., the crying of a newborn baby was heard across the otherwise silence of the hospital. A nurse came out of the room and, going to Kurt (who was in the waiting room), said with a smile, "Would you like to meet your son?"

Kurt felt tears on the edge of his eyes as he walked into the room, the first thing on his sight being that of a small bundle in Sandra's arms. The wee creature wrapped up in a light-yellowish blanket squirmed his arms and made cute baby noises while his mother cried tears of joy. Blaine stood over her, one hand on her shoulder and the other one on the baby's back. Sandra turned to the other parent with a smile.

"This is your kid, Kurt," she said happily, sniffling. "Somehow, he's got your eyes." Blaine held out one of his hands, which Kurt took and gripped as he approached his son.

Little Chris—a name both Kurt and Blaine had agreed upon—had Anderson curly black hair, which was expected since Blaine was the biological father, but when he opened his eyes for the first time, everyone was surprised at the green-blue-grayish color they had. Kurt had imagined the baby with maybe his husband's brown eyes or Sandra's hazel ones, but he actually sort of had his eyes.

"Like he was meant to be our child," Blaine whispered, squeezing Kurt's hand.

Sandra was perfectly fine with letting her friends take the baby with them, though she didn't deny she already loved the little fellow. She could visit her child whenever she wanted, even if she joked that it probably wouldn't be too often, and Chris would know that he had a mom who loved him as much as his two dads. During the last four years, Sandra had made three annual visits to her son, visits that Chris called "Mommy-time-day." She'd take him to the movies, to Broadway, shopping, or anywhere the boy demanded to go to. Sometimes the three parents would hang out together.

Kurt returned from his journey to the past when his husband announced that breakfast was ready. He found the strength to get up from bed, called out that he'd be ready soon, took a quick shower accompanied by his moisturizing rituals, and dressed up to take a stroll. He sat down at the table in a chair at the right of Blaine's and Chris's.

After breakfast, the Anderson-Hummel family grabbed their coats and scarves. "You'd freeze out there," Blaine said as he wrapped a small blue scarf around his son's neck, winking at Kurt. In response, Kurt said, "Lend me your coat." They both smiled secretly at each other, their eyes meeting for only a couple of seconds. It was a personal joke between them, to quote lines from all the songs they'd sung together back in high school, when they were both Dalton Academy Warblers—all the songs that had started it all between them.

When they were wrapped in coats and scarves and gloves and snow boots, the three of them were ready to go for a stroll.

"Daddy, look! The pond's frozen!" Chris cried excitedly, holding one hand from each of his dads. "And look, Papa! People are skating on it!"

"Yes, buddy," said Blaine, laughing.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, little guy?" Kurt added, looking at all the couples skating, spiraling on the ice.

"Yes! It is!" Chris agreed. His Daddy held his unfinished cup of hot chocolate on his free hand, but he soon had to give it back when the little boy started to exhale through his mouth to see his own breath. Chris giggled every time a puff of breath-smoke appeared in front of him; then he took his cup of chocolate and drank the rest of it in one gulp, throwing the empty cup in a trash bin nearby.

As soon as his hands were gripped by his dads', Chris began to run for a little bit before walking back, a process he repeated three times until Kurt and Blaine started to swing him back and forth, which had the little boy cracking up hysterically. Chris loved it when his dads understood what he wanted without the need to tell them.

And then their stroll at the park took an ugly turn.

A couple and their son (possibly no older than 6) walked opposite behind them, and the boy demanded in a very loud voice, "Momma, why is that kid holding hands with two dads? Where's his mom?"

The mother's answer wasn't any better. "Just keep walking, Bobby, ignore them," she said, putting her hands on the boy's back, pushing him forward. In a lower voice, she told her husband, "What kind of people are they, showing off like that?"

The father responded in the same tone. "Queers…"

Kurt and Blaine stopped swinging Chris, whose eyes were already sad and down as they kept walking. Both of his parents looked at each other, crestfallen. Though it was true that the situation for gay couples adopting was a lot better than when they started dating, there were still ignorant people who thought that two dads or two moms were infinitely worse than a dysfunctional straight couple. Since it wasn't so common to face that issue nowadays, every time they crossed paths with something like that hurt even more than back in high school. They'd never wanted their son to have to hear the terms "queer" or "fag" or even "homo."

Chris didn't like it when he heard what that mean dad had told his son. He didn't know what it meant; he only knew that if people said it, it was because they thought his parents were gross—gross like that time when he'd accidentally spilled rotten milk all across the kitchen floor and the smell stayed for a while. He also knew it made Papa (the dad that shared his hair) and Daddy (the dad that shared his eyes) sad… they'd said it had something to do with how people treated them and the ones like them years ago, before he was born. He didn't think they were gross! They loved him, he loved them, and they always wanted him to be happy. How could someone think his daddies were gross? Well, Chris was used to hearing other parents complain when they picked up their kids at his daycare and they saw Daddy and Papa taking him home (although they'd started to be less rude), but he'd learned to ignore them. It hurt him when people who didn't even know Daddy and Papa said mean stuff about them.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, until Kurt, in an effort to cheer them all up, began to hum a song the three knew by heart. It was, after all, Chris's favorite Disney song—he'd always asked for a kitten that could do what these ones did in the movie. Blaine's lips quivered into a smile as he started to sing.

"Do mi do mi do so mi do,
Every truly cultured music student knows…"

Kurt continued,

"You must learn your scales and your arpeggios…"

Both sang from there,

"Bring the music ringing from your chest and not your nose…" They both poked Chris's nose, making the boy let out a small giggle, and before they knew it, the three were singing that silly, happy, catchy song from The Aristocats where three cute little kittens and their mom sing and play piano.

"While you sing your scales and your arpeggios…"

Little Chris sang by himself next (since Berlioz was his favorite kitten),

"If you're faithful to your daily practicing,
You will find your progress is encouraging,
Do mi so mi do mi so mi fa la so it goes,
When you do your scales and your arpeggios!"

They were beginning to catch the attention of most people at the park, especially the ones who were barely kids at the time the movie came out. It was an unbelievable spectacle: people clapping and laughing and singing along a gay couple with their son. Most of the watchers were with children, and the little ones where also giggling and clapping their hands.

Then it was Chris's favorite part: the one where Berlioz starts demonstrating his amazing piano skills by playing like a crazy kitten. Since he was still too young, Blaine and Kurt made use of their experience in an a cappella show-choir and sang the entire piano part all by themselves while their son giggled and his eyes sparkled. The Anderson-Hummel family stopped their stroll entirely so that everyone could enjoy the show.

The three of them began to sing again when the song went back to lyrics,

"Do mi so do do so mi do,
Do mi so do do so mi do,
Though at first it seems as though it doesn't show…"

Kurt and Blaine let go of their son's hands to hold out theirs to the audience, signaling them to help with the next line, which they gleefully sang,

"Like a tree ability will bloom and grow!"

The little family continued,

"If you're smart you'll learn by heart what every artist knows,
You must sing your scales…"

The three took a deep breath, holding out six hands so that the crowd sang the finale with them.

"And your arpeee-eee-EEEEE-GGIOOOOOOOOOOS!"

Kurt and Blaine finished by singing the last piano bit, ending with a bow at the audience. Everybody clapped and cheered, and it caused their hearts to flutter happily. Chris was beaming with excitement.

"Daddy, Papa!" he yelled, wiggling his arms up and down, turning to Blaine. "We did a performance! I performed! I was just like you and Daddy!"

"You were extraordinary, buddy!" Blaine said as he and his husband took the boy's hands and swung him back and forth. When the crowd began to dissipate, the Anderson-Hummel family retook their pace, humming Scales and Arpeggios as they crossed Central Park.

The rest of the day was calm—luckily, no more ignorant couples crossed their paths; instead, every time another couple stood in their path, they waved and saluted politely, which had Chris smiling and grinning from ear to ear. The kid loved to be around other people; that was the main reason he went to a daycare rather than staying with a babysitter. Kurt and Blaine had asked him what he wanted, and he'd immediately answered, "Daycare!" But Chris definitely loved spending time with Papa and Daddy more than anything.

He didn't realize it was so late until the moon was up in the sky, lighting it up with all of the stars. He, Papa and Daddy had spent the entire evening just having fun the three of them: singing, quoting his favorite movies and musicals (which Daddy had taught him); they'd even gone to another coffee shop where they sold the best chocolate chip cookies! It'd been a day with lots of fun!

Chris let out a small yawn, his eyes starting to feel a bit heavy. "You tired, buddy?" Papa asked him.

"Mh-hmm," he said, letting go of Papa's hand to rub his eye.

"What do you say we go home now, little guy?" Daddy asked. He nodded and stood in front of Daddy as he held out his arms.

"Carry me, Daddy?"

Kurt couldn't possibly deny his son's petition, especially because he usually asked Blaine to carry him and not Kurt. He smiled at his baby boy before swooping him up in his arms—Chris leaned his cheek on Daddy's shoulder, a content smile perking up his lips.

"He must be exhausted," Blaine whispered, patting the child's back.

"That makes two of us," Kurt added, remembering how tired he also was.

They got home soon afterwards. Blaine offered to prepare them some coffee while Kurt went upstairs to tuck Chris into bed. His room was full of toys, drawings, colors, old and new CDs… just what a kid like him loved. Kurt never got tired of the drawings Chris made and painted before pasting them on the walls of the room—his favorite up to now was one where he'd drawn the three of them holding hands.

The little guy woke up a tiny bit when his daddy put him down on the comfy mattress.

"Are we home, Daddy?" he asked.

"That's right," Kurt said, caressing the black curls of his head. "You had fun today, Chris?"

"Mh-hmm!" Chris smiled tiredly, his eyes only half-open. "Thank you and Papa for taking me for a stroll. It was awesome."

Kurt laughed. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"Do you remember when we sang in front of those people?"

"Yes, I remember."

"And when everyone liked it so much that they clapped?"

"Of course I do. You really liked to sing for them, didn't you?"

Little Chris thought about this for a minute. Then he answered between yawns, "At first it was only 'cause I was singing with Daddy and Papa, but then everyone was singing, and I was really happy that they were happy." Kurt wanted to cry tears of joy. His son was just too good a boy. "Daddy?"

"Yes, little guy?"

A short pause.

"Will you and Papa take me out for a stroll again soon?"

Kurt was slightly taken aback by the question. Of course he'd loved to see his son smiling and laughing and to hear him sing with as much passion as he and Blaine did even though he was only 4 years old, but it was taking its toll on him. He felt like he was ready to pass out as soon as his head touched his pillow.

But Chris had one finger wrapped around one of his many beautiful black curls, twisting it around half-unconsciously since his eyes were getting closed. How could Kurt say 'no' to that?

"Soon, Chris," he said.

The boy held out his pinky finger from his free hand. "Pinky-swear?"

Kurt smiled from ear to ear, interlacing his pinky finger with his son's. "Pinky-swear," he promised, kissing the boy's forehead. "Love you, little guy."

"Love you too, Daddy. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams, Chris."

Mr. Hummel-Anderson stood up from the bed and walked out of the room, but not before turning one last time to marvel himself with the astounding miracle that was his kid. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his hip, and he turned his head around to find Blaine leaning his chin on his shoulder.

"He's amazing, isn't he?" Blaine said.

Kurt didn't answer the question—he just smiled and took Blaine's hand in his.

"He really loved that you took him out for his promised stroll at the park."

"He loved it that you were with him as well," Kurt assured him. "I might be tired as hell right now, but nothing has ever been more worthy."

The couple made their way to their room, each one with a cup of coffee in hand. Kurt took a small sip from his, the sweet taste of his non-fat mocha slipping between his lips. Just the way I like it. He could still recall the first time Blaine had ordered his coffee for him; on that Valentine's Day that seemed an eternity ago… the Valentine's Day when Blaine Anderson had begun to understood that what he felt for Kurt Hummel was not only friend/mentorship. The day he'd begun to realize that Kurt was the guy he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

They sat together on the bed, snuggling while they drank their coffee. Blaine softly caressed Kurt's hair as he leaned his head on his chest, listening to Blaine's heartbeat, one of the few sounds he could listen to forever without getting tired of it. They didn't need to talk, really. The silence was actually kind of comfortable.

"How did we get so lucky, Blaine?"

Blaine looked down at Kurt. "What?"

"How did we get so lucky?" Kurt repeated, staring up at his dearly beloved. "I mean, we've been together for what, fifteen years?"

"157 days till fifteen becomes sixteen," the musical producer said with a smile.

"You're impossible," the diva chuckled. This was one of the many things he loved about Blaine: how he could focus so much on special little things. "We've been married eight years, and we have a beautiful, talented, and extraordinary son. How did we get from being two members of rival glee clubs to having so much?"

Blaine grinned to himself. His and Kurt's story (one he loved to remember), was his favorite story ever especially because Blaine Anderson had always believed in fairytales. He and Kurt Hummel had met fifteen years ago (157 days away from being sixteen) by destiny, when the countertenor had been spying on the Dalton Academy Warblers without as much as a reference on good spying skills. The first time Blaine saw him was when Kurt called out to him, asking him for some sort of guidance. The moment they'd first held hands was the moment their spark began to be born.

"I'm a firm believer that fate wanted us to be together," Blaine finally responded, putting his cup on the bedside table so that he could grip Kurt's hand. "We were just meant to be."

Kurt blushed; he always turned bright red when Blaine got all cheesy and corny and… and so terribly romantic. And to think that, fifteen years ago, he sucked at romance. Kurt left his non-fat mocha aside and interlocked his fingers with Blaine's, kissing them quickly.

"I love you, Blaine," he whispered, glancing up with his gorgeous green-blue-grayish eyes at the love of his life.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine murmured, planting a kiss on his husband's lips.

They hid under the covers, their arms wrapped around each other, locked in an embrace that no one would ever break apart: an embrace formed out of a little something called true love.

"Good night, Harry," Kurt giggled cutely, burying his face in Blaine's chest so that the sound of his heartbeat lulled him to sleep. Blaine kissed the top of Kurt's brown hair and tightened his hold on him, never ever intending to let go.

"Good night, Sally."