After the first few days of having the puppy, Blaine quickly realized he was going to have to share Kurt’s affection with the furry animal. It was hard, though, for Blaine to be jealous of little Nelson, he was just so darn cute..
That first night, Kurt and Blaine had settled in bed in their normal, curled up, comma-like position; Kurt curled around Blaine, when they heard the pitter-patter of tiny paws that announced Nelson’s arrival. The sounds slowed as he reached the stairs, and they relaxed. Surely such a tiny puppy would never get up the Mount Everest of stairs. But no. He sure took his time, but he did it.
Fifteen minutes later, as both Kurt and Blaine were just drifting off, the patter of paws came closer, and suddenly, they heard a whining at the foot of their bed. Getting up, Blaine saw a forlorn, lonely, panting Nelson sitting there looking up at him with eyes that begged him to cuddle the tiny puppy. So, after not even a moment of thought, Blaine scooped the puppy up and plopped him on the bed, before fitting perfectly back into the shape a very sleepy Kurt was making with his body. He was entirely shocked when, instead of going to the side of his biggest admirer, the tiny black puppy curled up next to Blaine’s warm, bare stomach. Blaine pulled the covers back so they only covered Kurt and his own legs, and the warm bundle of fur snuggled closer to his stomach.
“Huh.” Blaine murmured. “I guess I remind you of your mommy, huh little guy?” He smiled, and closed his eyes, feeling Kurt’s arm move across him to stroke Nelson’s head, which, Jeff told them, always got him to sleep.
After that moment, Blaine no longer felt any jealousy toward the tiny thing. Kurt had to share his love with the adorable puppy too.
The lives of the two members of the Hummel-Anderson family soon settled back into a routine. A new one, involving the gorgeous, laces-consuming puppy they had brought into their lives. They took to using the Jeff’s old nickname for the puppy whenever they found a piece of the puppy’s work around the house.
“Old Laces has been at it again!” Blaine would call, holding up a pair of Kurt’s running sneakers with the laces mangled.
“Laces..” Kurt would murmur when he found a trail of muddy paw-prints leading across the kitchen tiling from the dog flap to the doggy-bed in the corner. Normally, the culprit would still be curled up in it, fast asleep after a playing session in the garden, and ready to have his paws washed. He was a trial, that was for sure, but he was so cute the two let everything slide.
Their days now went something like this:
At 6AM, Blaine would wake up, shower, dress and drink a stiff cup of black coffee before taking Nelson out for a quick romp around the block once or twice. (This was all the tiny puppy could manage at present) At 8’o’clock sharp, he would dash from the house, and as soon as he left, Nel-nel, as he came to be called, would climb the stairs (A trick he was quickly mastering,) and whine at the end of the bed. Kurt would pick him up and the pair would sleep until ten, whence upon it was Kurt’s turn to shower, dress and drink coffee, before making breakfast for himself and the rambunctious puppy.
Then, Kurt would go to his study, leaving the puppy to his own devices, and would work until around one, when he would serve lunch to himself and his little guy, and then the pair would head out on a walk. Kurt never felt like going around the block, so they would go to “Wedding” Park as it would be forever known, or, if Kurt was really bored, into town to window shop. More often than not, they got stopped by mothers with small children or teenage girls, who wanted to stroke Nelson, who would generally be in Kurt’s arms at this stage.
“What’s he called?” They would croon.
“Nelson..” Kurt would reply, always a little self-conscious.
“How old is he?” Was the next question. Kurt would tell them. “When did you get him?”
“My partner, Blaine, got him for me.” Kurt would reply without fail. Sometimes the mother would jerk their small child’s hand away and they would back off, and sometimes the teenage girls would titter at the gay man before running off, but generally, Kurt was met with acceptance.
“Oh, that’s cute!” They would reply.
Then, Kurt would return home, and they would bake cookies, or cakes, and then read until Blaine returned. It was a good life.