A/N: Written for Kurtofsky Week, Day 7 - in 10 years. I guess I could also include it in my unofficial series entitled "Look how every single Staind song can be appropriate for a Glee fic." Enjoy (I hope), review if you feel like it, positive comments or not are both welcomed.


They don't fight over who tucks her into bed. It's simply the one who's spent less time with her that day, or who's about to leave for a few days that gets to do it. It's an unspoken agreement that came naturally, since her first days at home. Kurt (with his concerts and shootings) and Dave (with the sports conventions and road games) both are away more often than they like, but it's the life they chose. Despite the frequent absences, the singer and the sports agent would never trade it for another.

Tonight is Dave's turn, as he has to follow his star client to Denver for the first games of the playoffs the next morning. Once his little girl is safe under the covers and he's given her the usual round of kisses (both cheeks, forehead and a last one on the nose to make her giggle), he pulls the chair next to the bed, grabs his guitar and settles for the show. He glances at her as he pulls out a few music sheets from his pocket and notices she's looking at him with eager eyes and a sleepy smile. That is why he leaves his guitar in her room. She's incredibly musically inclined, loves both hearing it and playing it. Apparently, Kurt's personality traits can be concentrated, enhanced and passed through genetics. Their baby girl is the living proof of this theory.

He clears his throat and shuffles on the small seat. She laughs quietly under her blanket and he makes big eyes at her, with a smile so she knows he's not really serious. It's a new song; he has the right to be a little uncomfortable, right? It's not a recent one, nor is it unfamiliar to him. But he's been playing it himself for only a few days now, so the lyrics and score are still needed. A busy schedule like his does not leave much time for rehearsing.

With a light strumming of the chords, just enough to keep some melody alive, he starts playing the song, in its barest form. Soon, his voice joins in, very softly. This is supposed to lull her to sleep after all. He's no professional, his range is quite limited and he often falls flat on the notes. Yet his daughter gets such a beaming smile on her face whenever he sings… Like right now. He keeps on singing, occasionally looking at the sheets to confirm a line or a chord. Mostly he just watches her drift away. With her eyes closed, she settles further under the duvet and sighs happily.

His throat tightens and his voice trembles. She's so precious. Somehow, he manages to finish the song. By then, her breathing is heavy and steady, and tells him she's fast asleep. Doesn't matter, he'll tell her anyway.

So I wanted to say this
'Cause I wouldn't know where to begin
To explain to you what I have been through
To explain where your Daddy has been

So I wanna hold you
Protect you
From all of the things
I've already endured
And I wanna show you
Show you
All the things
That this life has in store for you
And I'll always love you
The way that a father
Should love his daughter

Sweet Zoe Jane
Sweet Zoe Jane

More than just seeing the little miracle he loves more than life itself sleeping in front of him, the thoughts triggered overwhelm him. So many memories, of broken times filled with hurt, regrets, anger. Here, in the calm room, with his fingers tingling from playing and cooling off on the body of the instrument, it doesn't feel like 10 years later. A lifetime later actually, or a new life maybe.

"I don't know this one. Is it really called Zoe?"

Dave jumps slightly at the remark, so far gone in his head that Kurt's tranquil remark sends a jolt. Kurt is standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame. Turning around, Dave meets Kurt's amused smile and reciprocates. Something about Kurt being there, casually grinning, love in his eyes, it always succeeds at stripping away the dark thoughts.

"Please tell me you didn't pick a song title as our daughter's name… Didn't we say no cliché David?"

"Hum, yeah, maybe I did? Are you really mad?"

"No, I guess I'm not… It's not a bad song, I think I'll live with that knowledge."

He leaves his observatory position. Soon, Dave can feel his husband's long arms snake around his waist and a pointy chin rest on top of his head. It must not be comfortable for him, at all, Dave thinks idly. But he also knows that Kurt is not someone to let a silly thing like the back of a chair poking in his chest stop him. He sighs, one hand leaves the guitar and grips Kurt's hand gratefully.

"So, what was that song?" Dave can feel the chin poking his head with each word, a funny sensation that further lightens his mood.

"You know, some old stuff from my brooding teen years... I figured you wouldn't know it." He replies, his smile layering the comment with a hint of sarcasm.

Kurt chuckles and carefully detaches himself. "I resent that. Just because I'm a fan of musicals doesn't automatically mean that I can't appreciate a wide variety of genre!"

Scoffing quietly, Dave follows suit and gets up, putting the guitar back in the corner. When he turns around, Kurt is leaning to drop a kiss on Zoe's mussed hair, the only part of her still visible.

Will he ever get used to such a sight? No, probably not.

It's fine by him.

It's his turn to hug his husband, to relish how he settles in his embrace and lay his head back against him. They stand still for a minute, entranced by the sound of Zoe's peaceful breathing. Kurt suddenly cranes his head back.

"You know, I'm weirdly jealous of you." he says. Dave looks down, shocked to see that he is actually serious. Kurt's attention returns to the sleeping girl. "She always sleeps better when you're the one putting her to bed. She so obviously prefers your voice over mine... How is that even possible?" he continues, shaking his head in a disbelief that borders on endearing.

"She just hears it less often, that's all. You practice here, she's grown used to yours. Doesn't mean she doesn't love it." Dave reassures.

A quick kiss under his husband's ear, to reinforce his words.

"Come on now, Kurt Hummel, contralto extraordinaire, my pathetic attempt at singing is going to make you doubt yourself?"

"I'm sorry, but I happen to put a great deal of trust into our daughter's taste. So sue me."

"Never. What would be the point, it's our money, right?"

"Ugh, you're impossible!"

Dave laughs at that very true, obvious statement. Their success, their daughter, their love, their blatant happiness, isn't all of it utterly impossible? Yet it is so real, it almost hurts, in that good way.

He starts walking backwards, dragging Kurt along in his closed arms. "You bet I am. Now come on, let's go to bed. We'll see who has the best voice there."


Song is Zoe Jane, of course not mine.