When Kurt's anxiety flares up, Blaine proves that the service a submissive provides can be more than just what he can offer with his body, and that care is a two-way street.
Notes: For itallstartedwithharry. Written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt "judgement". Non-sexual D/s, emotional hurt/comfort, anxiety.
"I appreciate you coming with me today, pet. I really do."
And though Kurt says it while in the middle of juggling a dozen other things, a bashful smile crosses Blaine's lips, accompanied by a flush of pink rushing to color his cheeks. His head, which had been bowed in deference (easily passed off as a consequence of the cold wind blowing hard that afternoon), lowers to hide his pride. "Thank you, Sir."
"Now, you're positive that this isn't going to make you late for an appointment with your vocal coach or … or a rehearsal or … or something?"
"Not at all. Today's my afternoon off, Sir. But even if it weren't … uh … you and I would be going to the same place."
Kurt, who has been busy rummaging through his bag for the past twenty minutes, searching frantically for something, looks up and around, as if suddenly remembering where they're both headed. "Oh." He chuckles, followed by an anxious hiccup. "Oh, right. I forgot. And speaking of …" He stops walking to focus on the contents of his bag, which, from the scowl on his face, are unsatisfactory. His scowl flips to a grimace of mild panic. "Oh … oh no! Don't do this to me! Please, don't do this to me!"
"What's wrong, Sir?"
"My folder! My leather folder! It isn't in my bag!"
"Which folder, Sir?"
"That brown one …" Kurt snaps the fingers of his right hand to jar his memory, come up with a better, more accurate description "… with my name embossed along the bottom in gold. It was a present from Isabelle when I started lining up auditions again. It has my …"
"… your sheet music in it, Sir?" Blaine quickly pulls a leather folder from his own messenger bag. He'd noticed it lying on the kitchen table as they raced out the door. He was sure his Master meant to take it, but Kurt was not in the mind space for him to ask at the time. So Blaine slipped it into his bag, just in case.
Kurt looks at it, held out to him by his loyal sub, and his tense body relaxes.
"Yes." He sighs. "That's the one. Thank you, pet."
"You're welcome, Sir."
Blaine watches Kurt slide the folder into his bag, then re-arrange his things, needing every item in precisely the right order. Blaine doesn't stare, but instead looks around to make certain no one else is taking any notice, prepared to decline any offer of assistance should one come their way. Blaine rarely ever sees his Master behave like this. Normally, Kurt is the picture of cool and collected. He's known throughout the fashion world for his icy demeanor, his talent for shutting down an argument with a single steely glare. Calm under pressure behind the scenes at fashion shows or handling last minute snafus with efficiency and grace is one of the foundations his reputation is built on.
The unflappable Kurt Hummel.
But on days like today, Kurt's signature calm is a façade covering a tightly wound spool of anxiety.
Kurt hides his episodes, constantly afraid of someone finding out, afraid of seeing him as lesser, or worse – damaged. The amazing actor that Kurt is, it's not a difficult sell for him to act "normal", even on those days when he's on the verge of pulling his hair out by the roots. But he doesn't hide this side of himself from Blaine. Blaine gets to see his Master during these moments of vulnerability.
And he considers it an honor.
It has also been a valuable learning experience. Blaine has started to let go of caring about how other people see him, to ignore their petty judgments, and to even outright tell people where to go if they can't mind their own business.
The only person he cares about impressing is his Master. Everyone else's opinion is inconsequential.
Today is an important day for Kurt, one that could change the path of his career. Kurt is going to the first audition he's been to since he met Blaine. It was tricky negotiating the finer details, not only because of who Kurt is, but because of who Blaine is becoming, and their connection to one another. With Blaine making more and more of a name for himself in the theater community, Kurt did his hardest to hide any connection he had to him while setting up this meeting.
But he failed.
Actually, Blaine's agent failed, purposefully letting the information slip under the guise of putting a good word in for Kurt, after Blaine specifically asked him not to.
Which is why the man is no longer Blaine's agent.
But the cat's out of the bag, and there's no way to wrestle its furry ass back in. It's not like the directors and producers wouldn't have found out eventually that Kurt and Blaine are dating (even if Kurt submitted his resume under the pseudonym Sam Evans). Kurt happens to be auditioning for a role in Blaine's own show – Kinky Boots. But now, if Kurt gets the part or he doesn't get the part, he won't know if it's because of his talent (or lack thereof), or because of his association with Blaine.
There are no clear-cut predictions for this scenario, and because Kurt can't formulate a possible viable outcome … he's freaking out.
He'd nearly decided not to go at all, but a timely comment by Blaine about how fun it would be to perform opposite one another changed Kurt's mind. (Blaine couldn't let Kurt back out. He knew how much his Master would regret it if he did.)
They start walking again, heading towards the subway, and Blaine falls in step with Kurt. Kurt had told Blaine once that he finds that soothing - the rhythm of them walking side by side, the cadence of their matched steps. That's what Blaine wants Kurt to feel.
Soothed.
But a few feet from the terminal entrance, Blaine sees Kurt put a hand to his forehead, his cheeks draining of all their color.
"Are you alright, Sir?"
"No, I'm not," Kurt says in a hushed voice, trying not to draw anyone's attention. "I'm so frickin' nervous, I barely ate breakfast. I didn't bring a water bottle with me, so now I have a headache. With my luck, my blood sugar's going to drop into my feet, and I'm going to pass out on stage."
"Which is why I brought a juice box, a granola bar, and a PB&J," Blaine says, patting his bag. "Just in case."
Kurt looks at Blaine, his own not-oft seen version of a shy smile making an appearance. "That's very thoughtful of you, pet." Blaine starts down the stairs, but Kurt doesn't join him. He looks over his shoulder, his feet stuttering between going forward and turning back.
Turning back, surprisingly, wins.
"Oh my God …"
"Master?"
"I … I have to go back to the loft."
"What? Why?"
"I didn't … I didn't turn off the stove! Every burner has a pan on it! What if …?"
Blaine puts a gentle arm on the crook of Kurt's elbow. Kurt turns on him, ready to reprimand him right there in public for interrupting him, when Blaine shows his Master a photo on his phone.
"What? What is this?" Kurt snaps, taking Blaine's phone and maneuvering it into better light.
"It's a picture of the stove before we left," Blaine explains. "If you swipe through them, you'll see that the stove is turned off, as well as the oven."
"You took a photo of every burner knob?"
"A-ha. Plus the front door, so you can see it's locked, and all the windows so you know they're closed."
Kurt looks through the photos on Blaine's phone – pictures from this morning of various areas in their loft bleeding into pictures of the two of them together smiling on the subway, cooking in the kitchen, lying in bed with the comforter pulled up to their chests, sweaty and laughing, exhausted from a marathon night of making love to one another, which they were nowhere near done with when that photo was taken. There are no chains or whips or handcuffs in these pictures. As a general rule, Blaine isn't allowed to keep those pictures on his cell phone, no evidence of their "alternative lifestyle". So, these pictures are just examples of two men in love, who appreciate one another.
Who support one another.
Who take care of one another.
It's a concept that Kurt is not used to being on the receiving end of. Too few Dominants and submissives alike remember that service means more than what a pet can offer with their bodies.
And that care is a two-way street.
Of course, service comes so naturally to Blaine.
As does love.
Kurt grins. He hands Blaine back his phone.
"I thought it was my job to take care of you, pet," Kurt says, popping Blaine's collar against the wind when it begins to blow, and sounding so much more like the put-together executive that the fashion world knows and loves.
"And you do, Sir. But, I'm here to take care of you, too. Make sure you stay healthy and sane. It's the least I can do."
Kurt tightens Blaine's scarf more snuggly around his pet's neck, then kisses him on the forehead, his hand cradling the back of Blaine's head. Blaine bites his lower lip, waiting until a small collection of commuters bustles by before he speaks again.
"Actually, I wanted to say thank you, Sir."
"For what, pet? It seems like you're the one saving the day."
"For being perfectly imperfect ..." Blaine peeks up at his Master through long eyelashes "… and for giving me the chance to serve you."
Kurt's heart flutters more excitedly by those words than it has by the entirety of his nerve-wracking morning. Leave it to Blaine to erase every anxiety he has and replace it with his own brand of knee-weakening charm – just as lethal, but a bit more familiar.
Easier to manage in a pinch.
"Well, then," Kurt says, with a sassy hair flip that makes Blaine giggle, "you'll be happy to know that I'm currently thinking of a dozen other, more wickedly fun ways for you to serve me the second we get back to our loft."
He puts an arm around Blaine's shoulders and leads him to the subway.
Blaine, with head bowed again, smiles contentedly. "I'm looking forward to it, Master."