Sorry I've been kinda MIA, guys! I got hit with this crazy acid indigestion when classes started, and I only just got medicine that actually works.
Kurt was having one of those days where he wished he could just hit some great cosmic reset button and start all over.
First, he'd been late getting up that morning, causing him to forget both his term paper and his umbrella at the loft, both of which he'd really needed that day. The subsequent reaming from his professor and torrential downpour he got caught in as he waited for the bus to the diner didn't improve his mood, and then the cherry on top of this sundae of suck was burning himself on a scalding hot coffee urn accidentally in the middle of his shift. Gunther had promptly shooed him out of the building, yelling about worker's comp and health code violations, so Kurt was also out three hours worth of tips.
At least I can go take a nap for a little while now, he thought with a sigh as he trudged up the stairs of his building. Even that wouldn't be as good as it could be, though – Blaine was in California helping Cooper (quite literally) get back on his feet after spraining his ankle, and he wouldn't be home for a couple more days yet. All Kurt had to look forward to was leftover Chinese food and the somewhat staticky comforts of Bruce the boyfriend pillow.
And then he realized that the intoxicating aroma of warm garlic bread that was wafting around him was actually coming from their apartment.
"What the hell?" he asked himself quietly. Pinching himself to make sure he wasn't hallucinating – and did that work on hallucinations or just dreams? Can hallucinations even have smells? - he slid the bulky loft door open, revealing a very familiar figure working some magic at the stove.
"Surprise!" Blaine said, looking up from his pot and beaming.
"Blaine?" Kurt said, blinking twice in confusion. "But you're in California."
"Correction: I was in California," Blaine said. He put the spoon he was stirring with up to his lips and tasted whatever he was making, mmm-ing in appreciation. "And now I'm here, making us some spaghetti for dinner."
"But Cooper-"
"-Is perfectly fine. Turns out he'd barely even twisted his ankle – he mostly just wanted an excuse for me to come visit." Blaine flicked off the stovetop and started dumping the other pot into the strainer. "Are you going to come inside any time soon, or would you like to eat in the hall?" he teased.
"I'm sorry, I'm just still in shock," Kurt said, dumping his bag by the coatrack and kicking off his shoes. "I've had the worst day, and you being here out of nowhere is throwing me out of whack."
"Aw, honey," Blaine said, pulling a genuine frown. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Once we're done eating, would you mind helping me bandage up this burn I got?" Kurt asked, holding up his forearm to show off the tender pink mark running along the inside. "It'll hold out through dinner, and I really don't want to wait any longer than I have to to eat this amazing smelling food."
"Baby," Blaine breathed, looking concerned. "Okay, but if I finish first, I'm patching you up while you finish eating. That doesn't look good at all."
"It's fine, B, I promise," Kurt said. "I'm so pale to begin with that even normal blushing looks like a fever on me sometimes." He started serving himself from the various bowls scattered along the countertop, noting happily that Blaine had also cooked up some summer squash to go with their pasta and bread.
"It does not," Blaine said vehemently, grabbing his own plate and following Kurt down the kitchen. "Your skin is gorgeous, and you know it."
"I may have thought that once or twice," Kurt joked airily, sitting down at the table and digging in. He practically inhaled his dinner, stifling moans when the flavor of Blaine's pasta sauce really kicked in.
"I see you like my mom's old recipe," Blaine said, carefully twirling a small bite of pasta around his fork before using his knife to cut off the excess.
"I'm really glad I'm marrying you, if only so I have access to this recipe for the rest of my life," Kurt said after he'd swallowed the mess of noodles in his mouth.
"I feel used, Kurt Hummel," Blaine teased. "You just keep me around to bandage you up and keep you well fed."
"Not entirely true," Kurt said. "I also think you're an excellent cuddler."
"At least the feeling's mutual there," Blaine said. "Although I suppose after the day you've had, you're going to demand to be the little spoon tonight, aren't you?"
Kurt tried to give Blaine his most pathetic doe-eyed look.
"Somehow that's still cute even though you have chipmunk cheeks full of pasta," Blaine sighed. "I'm dangerously in love with you."
Kurt just pushed up from the narrow table and leaned across to plant a chaste kiss on Blaine's lips. "I am head over heels for you, Blaine Anderson, and not just for your cooking and cuddling skills. To prove it, I'll even let you pick the movie tonight."
"With no complaints?"
"With no complaints." Kurt confirmed, snagging both of their empty plates and stacking them in the sink to deal with later.
"Wow, you really do love me," Blaine said. He stood and started wandering over to their medicine cabinet, presumably to find the gauze and burn cream they had in their emergency kit.
"And don't you forget it!" Kurt settled onto the couch, closing his eyes in total relaxation.
He knew Blaine had returned when the soft sound of footsteps stopped in front of him and a loving kiss was pressed to his lips. "Never," Blaine said softly. "Now, give me your arm. In honor of your injury, we're watching The Winter Soldier."
Kurt swallowed a groan before it could even fully form, grateful that his luck had turned around enough that Blaine didn't even notice. Maybe things were looking up after all.