Sebastian comes home to find his husband and son searching for his bucket of Halloween candy. But Sebastian, running errands on a very stressful day, has his suspicions about where it's gone.
Notes: So, I wrote this for two fandoms, posted the first one, thought I'd put a day or two between them, and then never posted this one. My bad.
"I'm sorry, Tom-Tom," Sebastian hears his husband say as he slips into their house through the mudroom door. Oh-oh, he thinks as he undresses, changing into the fresh set of clothes waiting for him and putting his worn clothes and mask straight into the laundry machine. Kurt rarely uses Sebastian's nickname for their little boy. When he does, it usually means something's up. "I don't know where it could have gone."
"But it was right here! Right where you and Daddy put it!" Thomas gestures with both hands to the top of the refrigerator - a place Thomas can't easily reach, but he can see from ground level. A perfect place to keep his pumpkin bucket full of Halloween candy safely out of grabby hands. But as Sebastian walks in on his husband and son searching the kitchen high and low, he can see that the bucket is no longer there.
And Thomas looks devastated.
"I swear I didn't touch it! Neither did Hepburn! Did you?" Thomas turns to his faithful pet companion, who looks back at him with baffled eyes. "See?" he declares as if that one confused look from his pet Labradoodle proves anything. Hepburn had been trained not to rummage through the kitchen, but if the dog had, there'd be more physical evidence than a missing bucket. "You don't think Uncle Blaine could have taken it, do you?" Thomas's lower lip wobbles over the prospect of a beloved family friend absconding with his pail of treats - treats he worked hard for this year since there were so many rules to Trick-or-Treating this time around.
No running up to houses.
No eating treats before they reached home.
No hugging friends.
In fact, no getting too close to friends at all.
Take only candy left out on tables or stoops, which meant most of their neighbors didn't get to see his fantastic costume. Not that that mattered much since the effect of being Dr. Strange had been ruined by the mask and face shield his fathers made him wear.
But all in all, they did the best they could for Thomas considering the circumstances.
The whole neighborhood came through for the kids.
"No. I've known your Uncle Blaine for a long time, and he would never swipe candy from a friend," Kurt replies, patting Thomas's head reassuringly while taking the high road.
"Yeah. Uncle Blaine is more of a cronut fan, anyway. If there had been any of those in your bucket ... well ... it wouldn't have lasted the night," Sebastian intervenes, saving his husband from the hole of unavoidable questions he's dug for himself since Sebastian thinks he knows what's going on.
"Daddy!" Thomas cries, leaping into Sebastian's arms. "Something terrible has happened!"
"I heard." Sebastian squeezes his son, then kisses him on the forehead. "Look" - He meets his son's watery gaze - "I know you've probably done this already, but why don't you and Hepburn go search your bedroom. I'll come help in a minute. We'll solve this one. I promise."
"All right, Daddy. I will." Thomas gives his father one last squeeze, then walks slowly to his bedroom, sulking with every step. He loves his Daddy, but nine times out of ten it's Papa who comes to the rescue and solves his problems.
And he hadn't.
Alas, all was truly lost.
Sebastian looks at his husband, watching with a depressed expression as their son drags his feet to his room, and sighs.
"Long day?" he asks.
"Yup," Kurt answers with a nod, eyes unmoving. "Long day."
"Nervous about the election?"
"Not as much as I thought I'd be, but a little bit. Yeah."
Sebastian shakes his head. Kurt worries on a whole different scale than the rest of the world he's learned. If worry were jackhammers, Kurt worrying a little bit could still manage to punch a sinkhole straight through Midtown Manhattan.
Four years ago, when Hillary Clinton was battling Trump for the presidency, Kurt was so anxious, checking CNN every five minutes for election results and Doomscrolling on Facebook and Twitter, they decided to drop Thomas off at Wes's house, then had the fuck fest to end all fuck fests, praying that, when it was all said and done and they were too exhausted to continue, they'd be met with good news.
The news of the first Madame President.
Hell, five straight hours of fucking should have put some positive energy into the air.
But it didn't work out that way.
And … well … the rest sucked ass, and not in a good way.
Sebastian leans into his husband's ear, ensuring his voice doesn't carry. "Did you stress-eat Tom-Tom's Halloween candy?"
Kurt clears his throat, his lips tightening into a thin line. He's not a perfect father. He'd be the first to admit he's made a few questionable decisions - not out loud to Sebastian, but still. But this one probably takes the cake. "Yes. Yes, I did."
Sebastian pulls a reusable canvas bag, filled with clearance Halloween candy he bought from Duane Reede, out from under the sweater he'd folded over his arm just for the purpose, and hands it to Kurt. He'd had his suspicions when he saw Kurt pull his iPhone out of his pocket every five seconds then walk out of the room to check it, the way he'd been chewing his lower lip to pieces, his eyes flicking to that bucket whenever he went to the fridge for water. Even if he was wrong, having an extra bag of Halloween candy in the house never hurt anyone. It only comes around once a year. And at 75% off, it was a steal! "I've got you covered."
Kurt's sigh of relief is so extensive, it shortens him by half a foot. "You are a lifesaver."
Sebastian smirks. "That I am. But I get it." He puts an arm around his husband and squeezes tight. "You didn't see the stale pizza crust I swiped out of the box I took to the trash before I went to the store this morning."
Kurt tilts his head in his husband's direction and arcs an eyebrow. "Really, Smythe? That hadn't been refrigerated!"
Sebastian guffaws. "Are you actually judging me!?"
"Yes." Kurt rests his head against his husband's shoulder. "But only because I'd been eyeing that for breakfast, you jerk."