Summary:

Kurt gets a little irate when, once again, Sebastian volunteers him to make an elaborate confection for a school function. So Kurt makes his husband a special gift to express his feelings about the whole situation.

"Why do you always do this!?" Kurt grumbles, brushing past his husband to get to the oven, wishing the insufferable man would go do something else for a couple of hours and leave him be. It's bad enough that Sebastian got him roped into this mess. He's adding insult to injury by standing around and watching.

"Why do I always do what?" Sebastian asks, inching sneakily towards the counter in search of a nonpareil to pilfer.

"I was done!" Kurt reaches around Sebastian for a piping bag, smacking his husband's hand as it closes in on the candy dish. "Finished! I had the cupcakes frosted, the chocolate-dipped pretzel bones wrapped, and a chocolate cake graveyard fully decorated! Individually hand-crafted tombstones, graham cracker coffins, marshmallow pumpkins, and tiny sugar zombies, all ready for delivery tomorrow! Then you go ahead and promise the PTA a gingerbread house for their carnival auction! And not just any gingerbread house! A showstopper!" Kurt scoffs. "Whoever heard of a Halloween gingerbread house? It's absurd!"

"But look at what you made!" Sebastian says, gesturing to the nearly five-foot-tall recreation of Dracula's castle that Kurt threw together. Granted, it's taken him most of the day to build, and he'll be decorating it well through the night and into the morning, but the thing is a masterpiece! The best architectural phenomenon he's ever created out of dough, in Sebastian's humble opinion.

"That's because I'm a miracle worker. But I shouldn't have to be! And definitely not as many times as I've been because of you!"

"I just thought, you know, since you were already doing so much baking, it wouldn't be that big a deal to toss one more thing in the oven."

"The baking isn't a big deal, Sebastian!" Kurt growls. "It's the construction! I know these people! They're never satisfied with a humble home or a quaint little cottage! They expect full-scale models with LED lights and animatronic parts! And they don't accept store-bought! If you're going around making promises, how come you're not the one doing the cooking?" Kurt stops hustling for a moment and indulges in a long sigh. "You know, I was actually looking forward to sleeping tonight."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I really am. But I can't help it. You're amazing! And everyone knows it! You should see how excited they get when they hear the words Kurt can do it! It makes them drool!"

Kurt grimaces at the image that comment produces. "I am amazing. But you acknowledging that fact doesn't make things any better when I'm baking thirty-six hours straight!"

"If it's any consolation, everything smells incredible! I can't wait till tomorrow night when I get to try one of your cookies." Sebastian rubs his hands together, staring longingly at the nonpareils Kurt relocated to another counter to keep out of his reach.

Kurt looks at his husband, his scowl of aggravation morphing with frightening quickness into a grin.

"Why wait?" He grabs one of the plates covered in tin foil on the kitchen island. "I whipped you up a special plate of cookies. And you don't have to share them with anyone. Not even Thomas."

"You ... you did?" Sebastian says, receiving the plate skeptically. He peels back the foil and gives the plate a sniff. He doesn't smell anything suspicious - no cherries or almonds. Of course, dozens of poisons are odorless and tasteless. And it would be like Kurt to know the names of at least half of them. "After what I did? You're too …" Sebastian stops when he removes the foil completely, a knot of confusion forming between his brows. "These cookies ... are mine?"

"Yes, they are."

"They're gingerbread men?"

"That's right."

"Uh …" Sebastian examines the cookies – five men in all, three with X's for eyes, one with a panicked expression, and one without a head (attached. It's lying beside its body). Instead of the mummy wrappings and black capes Kurt's other gingerbread cookies sport, one of Sebastian's cookies has been bound with licorice rope. Another has been burnt to a crisp. All five of them have been stuck with candy pins, the headless one with a thin, sugar-candy stick through its crotch. And they all have distinguishing characteristics that make Sebastian gulp hard: brown hair with swept up bangs, manicured eyebrows, one carrying an iPhone bearing Sebastian's custom case, one has a briefcase with the initials SS embossed on the front in gold, and they are all dressed in a version of the same black suit Sebastian wears to the office when he goes.

"They look like voodoo dolls," Sebastian points out with a nervous chuckle.

"They are," Kurt confirms.

"And ... they all look like me."

"That's right."

"A-ha. Should I be worried?"

Kurt swings by, kissing Sebastian on the forehead before he fetches a chilled ball of dough from the freezer. "Only if you ever do this to me again."

Sebastian nods, picking up the severed head of the cookie and popping it in his mouth. Voodoo doll or not, it's still Kurt's secret recipe.

And it's delicious.

"Mmm," Sebastian says, going for the licorice rope next. "Point taken."