Sometimes you just need Kurt to be high as a kite on morphine, am I right?
The first noise Blaine heard his husband make after awakening from his anesthesia was a high-pitched giggle.
"Everything's shiny," Kurt said amidst his laughter. "Like bubbles. Or glitter!"
"Wow, babe, they really pumped some morphine into you, didn't they?" Blaine asked, laughing along.
Kurt turned his head, eyes lighting up as they focused hazily on Blaine. "Blaine! You're here!"
"Of course I'm here, honey. I wouldn't just leave you in the middle of your emergency appendectomy," Blaine said, scooting his chair closer so he could take Kurt's hand. "I was worried about you."
"Don't be worried, B, I'm fiiiine," Kurt said, slurring a little. "Heh heh, you're my B and you look like a bee right now. Your hair is so fuzzy." He pulled his hand out from Blaine's grip and started running it through Blaine's ungelled curls.
Suddenly, Blaine regretted throwing on a yellow and black striped polo in his rush to get dressed and get Kurt into the hospital.
"Hey, you're a bee, too, you know. Remember that baby name website we were on a couple days ago?" Blaine said, removing Kurt's hand from his hair. "'Hummel' originally meant 'bee.'"
"Yes, but you don't call me 'bee.' You call me 'baby.' I like it," Kurt said, fixing Blaine with a look that was probably meant to be serious but lost some of its effect thanks to the cross-eye Kurt had going from his painkillers. "You're B and I'm baby, and that's just how it works."
"Whatever you say, baby," Blaine teased, kind of wishing he was recording this interaction to show Kurt when he was sober. "Just remember that you told me you like 'baby' when you inevitably complain about my pet names in the future."
"I'm just tryna keep you on your toes, Blaine," Kurt said, clumsily patting Blaine's thigh. "I'll lose all my street cred if people find out I like your pet names."
"You have street cred?" Blaine asked. "Since when?"
Kurt attempted to give Blaine a withering glare. Blaine pretended it was as effective as always.
"I stand corrected. You've always had street cred," Blaine said, trying to stifle his laughter. "The scar you're probably going to have from this surgery will only make you look more badass, and no one will have to know that you like it when I call you baby."
"And sweetheart. Sweetheart is good, too," Kurt mumbled. His little burst of energy must finally have been wearing out.
"How about pookie? Or maybe honey bear?" Blaine said, unable to keep himself from teasing Kurt.
"Blaine. This is not Rent. You are not a freewheeling lesbian who looks oddly like Rachel's mother," Kurt said, letting out a yawn.
"And thank God for that," Blaine said, shuddering slightly.
""M tired," Kurt said, still loopy enough to not care about abrupt topic changes.
"Go to sleep, baby. When you wake up, we'll see if you're recovered enough to walk around and get discharged."
"Hope so. Hate hospitals," Kurt muttered as his eyes closed. "Don't go, 'kay?"
"Never," Blaine said. He waited for Kurt's breathing to even out before allowing his own eyes to shut as he slumped down in his chair. A grin spread across his face as he drifted to sleep, still gleeful over Kurt's (admittedly not sober) admission that he liked Blaine's pet names. He was gonna get so much mileage out of that once Kurt was lucid.
(Sure enough, Blaine milked that confession for about three weeks until Kurt finally threatened to burn all his sheet music. Was it worth it? Totally.)