#iamklainelocked

He kisses Bitty then, soft and tender. He cradles Bitty’s face gently in his hands as their lips touch, tongues meeting shyly, as the whole world -their kitchen- melts away.

“Well, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty says as they reluctantly pull apart, “You sure do know how to sweep a boy off his feet.”

“Don’t worry.” Jack replies, his voice low as he presses kisses to Bitty’s forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “You’re the only one I want to sweep off their feet.”

“I know, Jack.” Bitty smiles fondly, his eyes softer than Jack’s ever seen them. It’s almost a new record. “I know.”

“Good.” Jack says gruffly, and lifts Bitty up, carrying him off to the couch where he sits, still holding Bitty tightly in his arms.

“Jack!” Bitty laughs, and it is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “Good lord, give me some warning when you do that! I didn’t even finish my coffee!”

“Sorry.” Jack is very much not sorry. He kisses Bitty’s cheek, again, and grins at the amused look on his boyfriend’s face.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Bitty says. “You are so lucky I love you.”

“I am.” Jack says, seriously. “I’m the luckiest man in the world. I love you, Bits.”

“Oh, Jack.” Bitty says, and they don’t talk for a while after that.

Jack thinks about how they got to that point. Back at that first practice, years ago, he never would have thought that the tiny frog with the nerve to bring a pecan pie to a hockey practice would end up being the love of his life. He remembers falling in love with Bitty, how easy and effortless it was, almost like breathing. He remembers their coffee not-dates, sitting in Annie’s and not knowing why he wanted to do everything in his power to see the man next to him smile.

He remembers graduation, running across campus, and very nearly praying that he hadn’t just lost his only chance with Bittle for good. He remembers that first kiss, the two kisses that came after it. He remembers every inch of Bittle’s face that day, the shock and the elation.

Jack remembers his visit to Georgia, sneaking kisses whenever Bitty’s parents weren’t around. He remembers curling up in Bitty’s father’s truck as they watched the fireworks, pressing sweet kisses to each other’s lips every other minute. He remembers making love for the first time in Bitty’s room, trying so hard to keep quiet so that the Bittle’s wouldn’t find out what they were up to in the middle of the night.

He remembers everything after: Bitty’s visit to Providence, telling their friends, telling the Falconers. He remembers winning the Cup, and immediately showing the world just how much this man means to him.

He remembers that summer: how easy it was to be together, and just how hard it was to handle the rest of the world.

Through all of that, Bitty has been right there, by Jack’s side, and he has never been more grateful. Bitty is all he ever wanted and more.

That was six years ago, and he's finally at the point where he can admit to himself that his plans went to shit pretty much the moment he decided to celebrate said gig with a drinking bender. The reason he can say that is currently curled up on the other side of the sofa he managed to get off of Craigslist.

"Da?"

"Yes, princess?"

She stirs, and Darren's gaze immediately softens at the sight of her sleepy face, just finished with an afternoon nap that she hasn't grown out of yet. Or grown back into, now that she's in school, Darren thinks.

"'s time for Lola's yet?"

"No, not yet," he says and shuffles closer.

"Good." She smiles tiredly and moves to rest her head in his lap. "Missed you."

Darren sighs and runs his hands through the curly hair she inherited from him, like so many other things that made her undeniably his. He knows the moment won't last forever; he's due at the music school he's gotten a job at a few months earlier for a late private lesson. That's when Aria will need to be driven to his mother's place -- an advantage of having moved to San Francisco at his parents' insistence -- so he can get to his job. She's used to it, they both are, but they both still appreciate having time for each other like this, just the two of them against the world.

It was one of those sentences that he never expected to hear, not until he'd made it big -- something he's since given up on and filed away because his priorities shifted since he was told about Aria. "I'm pregnant and it's yours," he was told, and his world broke into pieces. Not because he never wanted kids, but he barely remembered hooking up with someone, let alone that he'd been idiotic enough to not use protection. The night of his celebration of what he'd hoped would be his big break turned out to be the night that switched his life into an entirely different lane.

Aria's mother's name was Melody, and Darren eventually remembered that her name was what charmed him -- his love for everything music-related had made it seem, in his drunkenness, like it was fate. What wasn't quite the gift from heaven was that she was barely eighteen, had just started college, and she flat out told him that she wanted him to know, but she was going to put the baby up for adoption once it was born. Darren's sense of responsibility kicked in then, along with his roots and the thought of his parents' disapproval, and he offered to raise the baby before he could think better of it. Mel gave up all rights to Aria the day she was born, and Darren only stuck around New York for as long as he needed before Aria could fly.

They have their own place now, though he spent the first three years of Aria's life back living with his parents, giving private music lessons, and just surviving from one day to the next. The job in the music school came just before Aria was due to start school, and Darren is pretty sure that his Mom had something to do with the offer -- he isn't planning on calling her out on it, though he does have plans for a more elaborate Christmas present that he couldn't afford in the last few years.

"Da?" Aria flips onto her back and gives him a quizzing look. "Whatcha think?"

He wasn’t ready, when she started talking, to be called Dad or Daddy, and the fact that she stuck with "Da" even after her speech got better makes it easy for him to think of it as a shortened version of his name.

"Sorry, Ari, Da was daydreaming," he admits sheepishly because he has no idea what she's asking about. "Can you tell me again?"

"We're gonna sing for Christmas," she says, not in the least deterred from repeating what she said. "Mr. C has a special song for us!"

"Oh, does he?" Darren asks, wondering why she's extra excited about a new song.

"Yup," Aria smiles brightly. "Is for the Winter Per-pre-for-…" She pauses when the word doesn't come out of her mouth easily. "When we sing all together, us and the bigs and everybody!"

Darren frowns, and he tries to remember if she brought home a note from school about a special event, or if it's only for the school -- though he has a feeling it's the former.

"Honey, what performance," he says the word slower so she can hear it and sees her mouthing it, "is this? Did Mr. C tell you?"

"Oh!" Aria jumps off the sofa. "Sorry, Da, I forgot! Look," she thrusts her homework notebook at him, "it's right in there!"

Darren still has his eyes narrowed when he flips the notebook open to the last entry, and there it is -- a note in the perfectly tidy handwriting of Aria's teacher about a Winter Performance that the school has set up for the coming week. He smiles at the signature at the bottom of the note -- a C with a flourish after it -- that he's come to know in the past few months.

"And  Mr. C said he wants to meet you," Aria says, catching Darren off-guard yet again.

There was a big meeting at the beginning of the school year, one for the entire school that the principal summoned all the parents for. But that day was one of the more hectic ones, and Darren ended up running ridiculously late, so he had no idea which of the smiling and friendly looking teachers that he saw in front of the crowd of parents was Aria's beloved Mr. C.  Aria seems to be convinced that the man is the best thing in the world, though, if her reports from what she does in school are anything to go by, so Darren is curious about meeting the teacher who captivates his little girl so much.

"Did he now?" Darren frowns, and he flips a page in the notebook.

He spots the note about the parent-teacher meeting then, from a day earlier, and he grumbles that he missed it when he was checking off Aria's homework. Then he remembers that she did it at his Mom's and feels marginally less bad about not paying attention enough. He pulls his phone out and creates a reminder in his phone, making a mental note to ask for the two dates off too.

"Can I come when he meets you?" Aria asks when he hands her the notebook back, and he watches her stuff it into her bag.

"No, princess, it's a grown up meeting, to talk about how you're doing in school," Darren explains.

"But Mr. C said it was okay if we were there," she pouts.

"You know what? I'll call him tomorrow, and I'll ask if it's okay," Darren offers. "But I'm sure Lola would love to spend time with you while I'm talking boring stuff with Mr. C."

"Oh," Aria looks like she's thinking it over, and Darren knows the look as one that tells him that she won't answer him right away.

Which he knows will have to be the next day, because he catches a glimpse of the time and sits up so he can start getting her ready to go. She's still frowning and thinking hard by the time he's dropping her off at his parents', and his Mom throws him a questioning look that he can only answer with a "what do I know?" shrug. Darren rushes off, partly to try and be at least almost on time for work and partly to avoid his mother's questioning.

By some miracle he manages to skip it when he's collecting Aria a few hours later, too. Not only that, but even though his Mom calls later that evening, the winter performance, neither the parent-teacher meeting nor Mr.C come up in the conversation. If Darren were to be honest with himself he'd find it suspicious because he's pretty sure Aria didn't not mention any of those to her Lola. But he's gotten almost professional at avoiding topics he doesn't want to think about too hard, so he pushes it all away in favor of getting some sleep.

In the days leading up to the meeting with Aria's teacher -- Darren tries to remind himself that he knows the man's last name is Colfer, but he's only ever heard Aria refer to him as Mr. C, so it's not easy -- it's Darren's Mom who collects Aria from school. And yet the teacher isn't mentioned even fleetingly, raising Darren's suspicions enough that he can't push them away altogether.

"Mom, can you get Aria tomorrow?" Darren asks on the day before he's supposed to meet the infamous Mr. C.

"I thought you had the day off?"

"I do, but I'm supposed to meet her teacher," Darren says, and he doesn't miss his mother's raised eyebrow. "Shit, sorry, I mean to tell you earlier, she sprung this on me last week," he lies.

"Uh-huh, sure you did," his Mom laughs when Darren's panic shows in his face. "I can't though," she says with what sounds partly like genuine regret.

Darren refuses to think what the other hints in her voice might mean.

"Crap," he mutters under his breath.

"You know it's okay to bring her with you, right?"

"She said so, but won't she be bored? I mean, it's the first meeting, and I remember you always sent me to Lola's when you were meeting my teachers," Darren wonders out loud.

"That's because if you had been there, neither I nor your teachers would've gotten a word in edgewise." His mother laughs at the memory. "A life lesson learned before you even started school. Aria isn't all that … enthusiastic."

"Is that a polite way of saying my daughter is better behaved than I ever was?" Darren teases and then schools his expression into an unconvincing pout when he sees his Mom's answering nod. "I guess I'll have to keep her with me then," he sighs, glancing into his parents' sitting room where Aria has spread out crayons and coloring pages all over the floor.

"Do let me know how the meeting went, though. I want to hear how great my grandchild is from an unbiased source," Cerina says, winking at Darren.

"Hey, I'm not biased!" Darren tries to protest, but he can see in his mother's eyes that she's amused by it instead of believing him.

With a slight huff, he helps Aria pack up, and he ushers her out the door and into his car. She's quiet, which is so unusual for her that Darren can't help but worry, though he decides not to ask her about it until they get home. They get through her bedtime routine slowly, neither of them speaking more than strictly necessary, and when she's on her bed and he's putting away the story that she chose for the night, Darren turns to her, trying to keep his own worry out of his face.

"Bun, what's wrong?"

Aria climbs into his lap, and looks up, her eyes wide and a little sad.

"Da, why can't I come meet Mr. C with you? Does he not want to see me?"

"Oh, bun," Darren sighs. "Of course he'd want to see you, but remember how I told you we'd be talking boring stuff?"

She nods, but doesn't seem to think it's a good enough reason for her to come.

"But, actually, I wanted to tell you," Darren says and shifts her to a more comfortable spot. "You've coming with me tomorrow."

The reaction is immediate: Aria's face lights up -- enough for Darren to wonder when exactly her teacher has taken up so much space in her heart -- and she throws her arms around his neck.

"I can't wait!" Aria babbles with excitement. "I can show you all the pictures we did, and the numbers, and…"

Darren tunes out for a moment, her rambling about the classroom and work she did in the past few months calming him a little. His mind is more at ease that her joy isn't about him being replaced with the mysterious Mr. C but instead about her school experience. Still, between Aria's constant talking up of her teacher, and Cerina's unexpected winks and not-so-subtle nudges he noticed even if he never let her know he did, Darren is curious.

"Okay, bun, tomorrow is the big day, and it's a school day, so you've gotta go sleep," he says when Aria's talking slows down and she fails to suppress a yawn.

"'kay Da, night night." She stretches to kiss his cheek and then stumbles over into her bed.

"Don't let the bed bugs…."

"…bite," Aria finishes, and her eyes close just as Darren is turning off the main light.

By the time he gets to sleep himself, Darren isn't thinking about the upcoming meeting or about the teacher. He falls into bed, and it's only in his dreams that the thoughts come up again -- he wakes up confused, trying to figure out why he'd be getting winks about someone who in his mind looks like an old librarian and how a person like that could be as amazingly captivating as Aria described him.

In the afternoon, he walks into the school and heads for Aria's classroom instead of waiting for her at the gate. Darren knows he's cutting it close, but his last class ran late, and he tried to not break too many speed limits on the way. He rushes into the classroom, and his eyes fall on Aria -- she's curled up in the lap of a guy who looks younger than Darren. His hair spiked is up and his glasses are slipping down his nose as Aria gesticulates wildly while she seems to be explaining something. Neither of them seems to have noticed that Darren is there, so he figures it's an assistant who came in to entertain Aria while Darren is talking to the teacher, who is nowhere to be seen.

The guy laughs, and Darren's eyes widen, because it's the most adorable sight he's seen in a long time. There are crinkles around the guy's eyes, and dimples in his cheeks, and Darren bites down a gasp. He wonders -- knowing that if this was the teacher, it wouldn't be cool to be interested, let alone to do something about it -- how bad it would look if he were to ask the guy out.

"Da!" Aria scrambles out of the guy's lap and she rushes at Darren, nearly knocking him over as she collides with his legs.

"Mr. Criss," the guy gets off the floor where he was sitting with Aria, and holds his hand out to Darren when he walks over.

"Hi, yeah," Darren narrows his eyes, not understanding why a classroom assistant would need to introduce himself.

He shakes his hand anyway -- or he tries to, but when their palms touch, Darren is pretty sure that he doesn't want to let go. They stand there awkwardly for a moment, until Aria tugs on Darren's sleeve, distracting him from trying to figure out who this guy is and what color his eyes are.

"Da, you've gotta see this," she bounces on the spot, "Mr. C, can I show Da the thing we did today?"

The guy turns to Aria and nods, and Darren's jaw drops. "Mr. C?" he blurts, and doesn't manage to hide his surprise.

"Colfer," reaches Darren's ears. "It's not the easiest for the kids to say, and the administration frowns on using our first names, so Mr. C it is. Call me Chris, though," he adds, and Darren doesn't miss the pink tint on his cheeks.

Boy, he wants to know how far the blush goes when it starts spreading since Darren's mouth is still open and he's staring at the guy -- at Chris -- like he's a mirage. Aria finally loses the last drop of patience, and she tugs on Darren's sleeve strong enough to make him lose balance. He scrambles to regain it and drops Chris', Mr. Colfer's, hand in the process, and then he lets her drag him to the pile of paper sculptures that Aria is showing him with excitement. Darren glances over his shoulder, and Chris looks away, blushing.

Oh shit, Darren thinks.

Somehow, he makes it through the meeting without blurting anything inappropriate -- most likely only because Aria spends it sitting in his lap and humming -- and he only allows himself to breathe properly when they're home and Aria has run off to find a place for her new sculpture… thing.

Darren flips open the notebook that Aria's homework is written down in, and a small folded piece of paper falls out.

'(415) 555-2410. C. Colfer. Just in case.'

He reads over it in disbelief, but when it sinks in, he sits down at the kitchen table, and he stares out of the window with an admittedly goofy grin. By the time Aria comes back from her room, the number is in his phone, and he can only nod in agreement when she grins and says, "So, Mr. C is the awesomest, right?"