Well since I've come on home, my body's been a mess.
Kurt unlocked the door to the loft, stepped inside, dropped his luggage, and plopped down on the couch. This business trip had really taken the wind out of him. His eyelids were heavy, and he smelled like bad airplane food. He sighed, as the television had been left on.
Santana walked into the living room with a bottle of spiced rum in her hand. "I was watching that," she said, glaring at Kurt. "You're in my way."
"I just got home, I'm exhausted, and all you want to do is complain about watching TV," Kurt said.
Blaine walked into the living room and started rubbing Kurt's back. "Santana and I have had a, um, long weekend," Blaine said. He sounded annoyed. "She found her fake ID, so she's been indulging in whatever she wants all weekend. Come into the bedroom."
With one last glare to Santana, Kurt trudged into the bedroom behind Blaine. He collapsed into the bed. "I don't know how you did it all weekend," Kurt said.
"Honestly, neither do I," Blaine said.
"I brought you something from the trip, but it's too far away, in my suitcase, all the way past Queen Santana, in the living room," Kurt said.
"That can wait," Blaine said. He slowly started rubbing Kurt's back and, soon enough, Kurt was sound asleep, leaving Blaine to daydream and Santana to drown her sorrows.