Work Text:
Three hours before trick-or-treat starts, Kurt hears the first distant roll of thunder. He freezes at the kitchen counter, tense for a second clash to confirm he hadn’t just been hearing things.
It comes again, a little softer but longer, after a minute or so of straining to hear over the loud volume of Spongebob’s voice babbling in from the living room, every word punctuated by Winnie’s giddy laughter.
Kurt’s heart sink like a stone in water. As soon as her feet hit the hardwood of the entryway, Winnie was gone, leaving Blaine to hold her backpack so she could run to her room and pull on her costume. It had been all they could do that morning to make her wear her regular clothes to school, and all of Kurt’s warnings that she’ll stain her costume if she eats dinner in it had gone unheard as she emerges from her room, little chin held high with pride in the afternoon light streaming through the clouds and the windows.
Winnie may have Blaine’s genes, but her collection of mannerisms are so distinctly Kurt’s at times that it makes him laugh, charmed into relenting to whatever she wants.
Another roll of thunder tumbles its way through the sky, and Kurt walks over to the window above the sink just in time to see lightning spark in the dark clouds inching toward them.
Kurt would give his daughter anything — would go to the ends of the earth for both of his kids — but one thing he definitely can’t prevent is the weather.
*
Blaine couldn’t speak from how excited he was when his daughter said she wanted to be a superhero.
Her first six years of Halloween costumes had always been pre-decided, chosen to fit the ‘family costume vision’ Kurt had for them that year. They’ve long since lost Jude from that tradition — more because costumes are too much fanfare for him and he gets embarrassed — and Blaine believes Kurt was only able to buy Winnie off the year before because she got to be Taylor Swift.
Blaine still remembers the way she slid into her chair at dinner a month ago, folded her hands on the table with all the seriousness of a CEO, even as she leaned on her arms to draw her legs under her on the chair, and said, “It’s October t’morrow.”
He remembers how Kurt focused on filling her plate, casting a shadow over Winnie’s face as she stared up at him, and said in that vague but encouraging parent voice, “Yes, it is.”
How Winnie had dropped, with no other segue, “I know what I wanna be for trick-or-treat this time.”
How Kurt’s expression hadn’t change when he hummed, though Blaine could tell by the quick, so small upward twitch of his eyebrows that he was listening to his daughter very closely.
How Winnie said with the biggest loose tooth smile in the world, “I wanna be the Purple Snowflake!”
Blaine remembers clear as day how hard it was to hold back his laughter at the confusion that grips Kurt (though Blaine has been just as in the dark as he was), enough for him to put the bowl of mashed potatoes down so he could look more fully at his daughter. "A...purple snowflake?"
He remembers how Jude rolled his eyes even as he grinned and said, “It’s a superhero she made up.”
A warm burst still fills Blaine’s chest when he remembers her bright eyes and her bright voice exclaiming, “Because my fav’rite color’s purple and my name’s Winter! Do you get it, Papa?”
It had taken Blaine a moment to collect himself; he had attempted to stifle his grin and hide it with a bite of macaroni and cheese when Kurt turned to give him a piercing look, as if to say this is all because of you.
Later, Kurt had accused him of knowing and just not preparing him. When Blaine held his hands up and responded with, “I thought her superhero persona was Kitty-Robin,” Kurt huffed a sigh and turned away to finish folding clothes. Blaine smiled hard enough to hurt his cheeks through the process of switching clothes from the washer to the dryer.
He even offered to make the costume if Kurt didn’t want to — it’s sort of his area of expertise and he thought he could decipher Winnie’s crayon-drawn specification — but Kurt vowed to take on the task just as he had promised, though he did ask for Blaine’s assistance at times.
When Kurt showed her the finished production — a lavender tunic and leggings with shiny silvery-white belts and embellishments, a large snowflake taking up the center of its chest, and a sparkly cape to match her glittery mask — Winnie screamed with delight, hugging Kurt for no less than five minutes.
The only way they could get it off of her after she tried it on was a promise from Blaine.
"If you wait until trick-or-treat to wear your costume for everyone, I’ll wear my superhero costume, too."
(Kurt threw up his hands and said, “Do none of you realize how nice it looks when we all match?”
To which Jude said with a smirk, “I’ll wear an Iron Man mask.”
To which Kurt paused, and looked at all three of them looking at him, and his eyes widened as it dawned on him. “Oh. No, no-“)
After a half an hour of searching, Blaine found all the pieces.
He didn’t decide to try it on until today, though, a risky move that may or may not have been prompted out of fear of not fitting into it.
But Blaine leaves the dark of his and Kurt’s bedroom, triumphant and back in his regular clothes, and walks to the kitchen.
"I told you it would fit just fine," he says before he notices Kurt leaning over the sink, iPhone alight on the counter next to it, cheek close to the window as he looks out. "What’s up, what’s wrong?"
Kurt turns around, a frown on his mouth. “Haven’t you heard the thunder?”
He’d been jumping and huffing and gritting encouraging words to himself for the past few minutes, so, “No. Is it raining?”
Kurt bites his lip and there’s something cautious about him before he speaks.
"Not yet, but they’ve already canceled the safe trick-or-treat event downtown." He holds his phone up, its screen dark now.
The familiar sound of Squidward’s bad clarinet playing cuts through their conversation, along with the trickle of Winnie’s high-pitched laughter.
"What are we going to do?" Kurt asks, taking his volume down a bit.
Blaine walks closer, a quick frown pulling across his face. “Well, it hasn’t started raining yet. Maybe we can carry an umbrella with us while we walk, just in case.”
"Do you really think there are going to be any kids out there with lightning in the sky?"
Blaine shrugs, his palms facing the ceiling. “I don’t know, heck, maybe it’ll pass. I’m not a weatherman, I don’t know.”
Kurt sighs, crossing his arms. He looks away, then looks back, his eyes wary and warning. “She’s been looking forward to this all month.”
"I know that, sweetheart, but…" Blaine looks to the window, looking at the round, fearsome clouds. "Maybe it won’t be so bad."
He says it almost like a question.
*
It’s bad.
It’s twenty minutes until trick-or-treat is supposed to start.
And Winnie is crying.
Her first reaction had been to scream “no” when Kurt told her after dinner that trick-or-treat might not happen this year because of the storm. Now, she won’t leave her vigil spot on the bay window bench, her chest jogging, breath pushing out a moaning cry every time it catches.
Kurt watches Blaine carefully removes her mask for her so she won’t cry the glitter off, and the way she doesn’t grab or scream at him to stop lets Kurt know how serious this is to her. She just focuses on the cold, rain-splattered window and frowns, deep with sadness, every time the thunder crashes, loud as if it’s right over their roof.
Blaine looks over at him, holding the mask gently in his hands, eyes wide and heartbroken like he wants Kurt to make it stop raining, too.
And Kurt so would if he could, he would put on his silly super villain costume and wear it until next Halloween if he knew it would fix this, but-
Instead, another clap of thunder and another sob from somewhere deep in his little girl’s chest.
"Whoa, hey." Jude is standing in the archway of the living room. It’s the first time Kurt’s seen him since he got home from school, and he’s still wearing his old straight leg jeans and his oversized jacket designed to look like Iron Man’s armor. "We’re not doing trick-or-treat at all?"
Kurt shushes him, harsh and loud, and walks quickly over to him while Blaine consoles another bout of crying from Winnie.
Holding Jude’s elbow, Kurt backs him back down the hall until they’re out of the living room’s sight and whispers, “No, we aren’t trick-or-treating this year, your sister’s devastated.”
"Not even the thing going on at the mall?" Jude asks, his voice just as hushed.
"They canceled it. And anyway, it's pouring, there's no way I'd feel safe driving there."
Jude looks over Kurt’s shoulder at the archway. “Can’t you just give her some candy or something?”
Kurt sighs. “I would, but it’s not about the candy.”
It’s about everyone seeing her costume, a unique spin on a classic idea, something she imagined and her daddies made for her, something no one else in the world could be but her. Kurt tried to tell her she could wear her costume out next year, but he’d known how well that would work as he was saying it; with all her childhood urgency, she’d cried, “But I wanna show everyone now.”
And then, an idea.
Kurt stands up straighter, a smile growing on his face. “Jude, could you go sit with Winnie and tell your dad to come here, please?”
Jude snorts a laugh — Kurt knows it’s at his tone, he’s been trying so long to teach his kids by example how to politely ask a question that it’s more natural than giving an order now, at least the first time around.
He says, “Sure,” as he walks by Kurt.
"Thank you."
"You are so welcome."
"I heard that sarcasm!" Kurt says as he watches Jude round the corner.
Blaine appears a moment later, looking on edge, and asks, “What is it?”
It only takes one look at Kurt’s face for Blaine’s to pull into confusion.
"What are you grinning about?"
Kurt’s mouth curls into a smirk. Yes, he does feel a little like a genius right now.
"I know exactly how we’re going to fix this."
*
Kurt starts from the top of the contact list, while Blaine goes from the bottom up.
All of the parents are confused at first, but they must really sell their explanations — “We know it’s a little odd, but Winnie is so heartbroken over the weather-” and “I’m sorry this is so last minute, if it’s no trouble-” and “We thought we could do something for Winnie and her classmates-” — because fifteen parents out of the listed twenty jump on board quickly, offering to bring candy and cupcakes and cookies without even being asked.
Maybe, Blaine thinks, Winnie isn’t the only kid throwing a fit over the stormy skies.
After the first confirmation, they start multitasking, employing Jude to help move the coffee table and set up the stereo with an old CD of Halloween music, full of silly songs kids love, and keep Winnie occupied. Her tears have subsided, but her mood is incredibly low as she refuses to move or unfold her cape from around her.
A half an hour later, fifteen minutes after trick-or-treat was supposed to begin, the Anderson-Hummel house is ready for a little last-minute Halloween party.
Blaine kneels down next to Winnie, picking up the mask where it lays by her feet.
"You ready to put this back on?" he asks, hushed excitement in his voice.
Winnie sniffles. “Are we trick-or-treating now?”
Despite her question, her eyes sweep the room, and he can see her noticing the things that have been moved and the new things that have found their place — like their big, plastic black and purple candy bowl on the middle of the coffee table, now pushed up against the wall across the room.
"No, sweetie pie, we’re having a party."
Blaine raises the mask to her face, gently stretching the band over her head, letting it settle into her wild, poofy curls before pulling his hands back.
Eyes like his blink at him. “A party?”
Blaine nods, a smile lighting up his face when he sees the sullenness start to clear from hers. “Mhm. And it’s all for you.”
He’d been wary at first when Kurt suggested it. Of course Halloween parties aren’t a new concept for Blaine, but it had felt so last minute and he didn’t want to pester the parents, who were probably already calming their kids or making other plans.
Kurt’s assurance never wavered, though, and, well, Blaine didn’t have any other ideas, so that was that. The worst they could hear was no.
"You’ll get to show all your classmates your costume and you’ll get to see theirs."
Winnie turns fully to him, her legs dangling over the edge, and says with sly, narrow eyes, “Where’s your costume?”
His smile widens. “I thought you’d never ask.”
*
It’s pandemonium, as having sixteen or so rowdy, sugar-doped, yelling-and-screaming costumed children in your home is always pandemonium.
Kurt greeted parents and kids as they arrived, unsure of where Blaine had disappeared to.
(When he had turned up in his god-forsaken Nightbird costume, Kurt glared at him.
When Jude emerged from his room to wait for the friends he’d invited over, his jacket zipped up all the way and an Iron Man mask over his face, as promised, Kurt knew his veto on the family theme this year had gone unheard.)
He spent the rest of the evening mingling with the parents, thanking them for coming, and yes, explaining his rather sloppy super villain costume — a suit, a cheap black and red cape, and plastic fangs that make him Captain Vampire, as created and named by Winnie herself.
From each parent, he got to hear how grateful they were for his and Blaine’s idea, how devastated their own children had been that they didn’t get to go around and get candy or show of their costumes.
And Kurt had to admit, there had been some brilliant little characters running around, ‘social butterflies’ giggling with Disney princesses and pirates tackling vikings. They have to pull a Gene Belcher off of a kid dressed as a skyscraper with a little King Kong glued to the top.
The best part was getting to watch Winnie strut around, showing off her costume and explaining with pride that it was all her idea.
It’s always lovely to see her be a kid with her friends, to see how she is around other kids her age. The mother of a sparkly blue Elsa told him what a sweet girl Winnie is, and the sense of pride it filled him with made home in his chest and never left.
Now, though, with parents and kids filing out, the music turned down from its full blast to a barely audible volume, Kurt is glad to say the night is over.
He hears Blaine saying from by the front door, “Thank you again for coming, it means the world-“
And one of the mothers says, “No, thank you for doing this, I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it-“
And they continue on like this while Kurt throws Solo cups and paper plates into the trash bag he’s carrying. He holds the opening wide for Winnie, energized and eager to help, as she slam dunks candy wrappers and cupcake holders into the bag.
"Bam! Five points," she shouts every time the trash makes it in, and every time the paper loses its way between her hand and the bag, she mutters a little, "darn it," that has Kurt’s throat aching with held-back laughter.
"How had she not passed out by now?" Jude asks, and Kurt looks up as he walks over, mask moved up onto the top of his head.
"Unlike you, she’s very sensitive to sugar," Kurt says, pointing to cup by the corner of the couch, just behind Jude’s heel.
He looks down and then leans to pick it up, tossing it in the trash as he hums in response to Kurt’s comment. “That’s weird.”
"Not really." When Jude gives him a look, Kurt adds with a grin, "Unlike me, your dad is very sensitive to sugar."
Jude nods, starting to smile as well before he says, “Is it alright if Matt and Lucas stay the night?”
Kurt nods and Jude’s face lights up as he says, “Thanks, Pop,” and walks back out of the room.
(Kurt thinks he’s starting to feel from the other side how his relationship had been with his own father. He and Jude aren’t- They’re good, of course, but they’re just not-)
A tug on the bag draws Kurt’s attention down to a little voice exclaiming, “Papa, gimme, I need to win the game!”
He laughs, telling her, “Hold on, hold on, sweetie,” as the front door closes, the click of the lock signaling the last of the departures.
Blaine walks in through the arch behind Kurt, and says, “Go get ready for bed, Winnie, it’s getting a little late.”
Kurt watches her as she runs past him and jumps for Blaine to catch her, yelling for him to twirl so she can watch his cape flutter out behind him.
"Can I take a bubble bath?" she asks as he carries her out — Kurt bites his tongue, resists telling Blaine she’s too old to be carried around, focuses on her bright smile as she looks at her daddy’s face for the answer. A yes, an of course, and a squeal of giggles from Winnie.
As he lifts the coffee table to put it back in place, Kurt can still hear the patter of rain on the night-darkened windows, can make out a long, distant roll of thunder over the faint hints of the Monster Mash still playing on the speakers.
He calls it a good night.