Sewing
The sounds of New York drifted up into the little apartment as the whir of a sewing machine continued its steady hum. It was a soft, domestic sound that softened the blaring horns and constant chatter of the streets below, and Blaine Anderson would surely have appreciated its presence in the tiny space if it hadn't been ongoing for the past several hours. He'd flown right by "annoyed" and "concerned" into the "pre-full-on-panic" mode, pacing outside of the bedroom door with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in his hand that was going to go from warm to ice-cold if he didn't make up his mind soon. On one hand, it really was his duty as a good, loving boyfriend to intervene in these situations. On the other hand, Kurt Hummel was a terrifying force to behold when he was pumped up on several cups of coffee and had a battle plan in mind. The last attempt Blaine made at communication had ended in a handful of needles being thrown at his face. …which he was sure Kurt was very sorry for and would apologize over later, but still. Needles.
He took a deep breath. "You are a man, Blaine. You can do this." He squared his shoulders and reached for the doorknob. "Courage."
The scene wasn't much different than when he'd made a hasty retreat – he was not going to call it running away – except for the addition of a few more garments draped over various pieces of furniture that could no longer be seen. In the middle of it all sat Kurt, hunched over a sewing machine with some elaborate creation, looking tired and worn and decidedly zombie-like. Blaine knew better than to startle him while he was in such a state, so he cleared his throat. When that failed to get a reaction, he made an attempt at conversation.
"Hey, Kurt?"
The whirring of the machine was the only reply.
"I don't think you're going to finish those tonight."
There was a little sound of rustling fabric as Kurt lined another piece of the costume up.
"You can tell Rachel no sometimes, you know? I know it's really important that she got this role, but that doesn't mean she can volunteer you for sewing duty when they're running behind. She's kind of using you as slave labor here, Kurt."
Kurt gave a small, muttered curse as he accidentally pricked himself with a needle.
"I made you hot chocolate. I know you'd prefer coffee, but I think you've had enough. And also we're completely out of coffee."
When the whirring continued to be his only answer, Blaine sighed and gave up, setting the hot chocolate on a corner of the table where Kurt would see it but where there appeared to be a minimum risk of it tipping over and unleashing a bout of rage that could potentially take out the entire city street. He threw himself down on the couch in the living room, resigning himself to a night spent sleeping there, seeing as how the bedroom didn't look like it could be salvaged anytime soon.
Blaine was just about to fall asleep when he heard a muffled, but still loud, curse coming from the bedroom, followed by a loud thump and a few more curses. When he reached the bedroom to investigate, he was met in the doorway by Kurt, who was clutching his hand.
"Kurt? What happened?" He reached down to take his boyfriend's hand, but Kurt snatched it away.
"Nothing! Nothing, I'm fine, I just slipped a tiny bit when I was cutting some fabric, no big deal, it barely scratched me, I'm totally fine." He slipped around Blaine into their tiny kitchen, his boyfriend close behind. Blaine stopped him before he could get to the kitchen sink.
"You have to show me, Kurt. I need to help you clean it."
Kurt seemed reluctant. "It's really no big deal, it's going to be fine. I'll take care of it." Blaine just gave him a tiny glare and pried the injured hand free, looking down to see what he was dealing with.
What he saw was blood, quite a lot of it, and oh, it was still gushing out of Kurt's hand, now wasn't that just marvelous? Feeling very dizzy all of a sudden, Blaine gripped the edge of the counter hard. Kurt grabbed his other arm tightly.
"Oh no, you cannot pass out on me, Blaine Anderson! If you pass out then I'm going to pass out too!" Kurt sounded hysterical, and Blaine knew that Kurt wasn't any better with blood than he was, so he took a few very deep breaths and tried to steady himself, finally getting them both to the kitchen sink. He turned the water on and put Kurt's hand under it, instructing him to stay right there while he went to find the first-aid kit. One very unsteady jog to the bathroom later and he returned with the white metal box.
"Okay, let me see your hand again." When Kurt showed him the damage, Blaine realized that all of the blood had been coming from a relatively small, rather shallow cut on the palm of Kurt's hand, and he felt a little silly for reacting so strongly, but at least this meant no emergency room visit, right? He dabbed on some antiseptic and wrapped practically the whole hand in gauze (so maybe he was still overreacting a little, but he liked Kurt's hands and he wanted them safe and whole along with the rest of his boyfriend), heaving a deep sigh of relief when the whole ordeal was over and it seemed like the crises was averted. "That could have been worse, I guess."
Kurt looked a little sheepish, trembling a little with the leftover stress and probably a severe need for some sleep. He hesitated for just a moment but then the words came tumbling out. "I'm really… I'm sorry about that, and the needles. You've been so patient and I've just devolved into some sort of cave-dwelling creature, and I've been horrible to you and you don't deserve that. I'm so sorry. I don't even remember what happened with the scissors; one minute I was cutting the fabric and the next there was blood all over the place."
Blaine just wrapped up his shaking, exhausted boyfriend in a hug. "It's okay. You've been under a lot of stress lately. I know this is important to you, especially since it's such a good opportunity, but I just care about you. When is the last time you ate? Or took a nap?" Kurt shrugged. Blaine took Kurt's face into his hands and looked at him seriously. "You are a very strong person, Kurt Hummel, and I am very proud of all of your accomplishments, but I would be much happier if I knew you were healthy and happy and not at risk from stray scissors. It hurts to see you so frantic and know that there's not much I can do to help, so when there is something, like stopping you for things like meals and sleep, please let me do that, okay? I love you, and that means I will drag you kicking and screaming from a sewing machine, kiss you silly while you're shouting at me, and force food on you when you need me to. Even when you throw needles at me." Kurt smiled a little, and Blaine kissed him soundly and deeply in just the way they both needed right at that moment, holding the slender boy tight until his shaking melted away.
Blaine dragged Kurt off to the living room, and together they pushed the couch over to the wall and got out all of the blankets and cushions they had in the closet (and a few that they managed to find under the mess in the bedroom). They spread them all over the living room floor, and Blaine made a blanket fort out of sheets in a moment of wonderful and inspired immaturity. Surveying their handiwork, Kurt laughed. "I don't know if there's going to be room for both of us in there. It is a very tiny fort in a very tiny living room."
Blaine came up from behind him and held him close, smiling into the curve of his neck. "I guess that just gives me an excuse to hold you all night long."
A/N: I figured after tonight we could all use some fluff. Even if said fluff came with some bleeding and such. ...and would you look at that, it's technically morning already. My internal clock thanks me, I'm sure. Anyway, if you recognize this story from tumblr, it is because the lovely Keitorin Asthore kindly published it to her blog after I submitted it recently. Thank you, ma'am! She's awesome, you guys, go and give her all of your love. Also, I'm hoping to expand this into a drabble collection, so if anyone has any prompts or such, you can find me on tumblr by the same name - just add dashes between the words. Thanks for reading!
(Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and FOX. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and not profit.)