A/N: From an anon prompt 'Sebastian does something that gets Kurt hurt'. Warning for vague description of injuries, and language.

"I hate you," Kurt grumbled as best he could through a split lip and a mouthful of cotton.

"You don't hate me," Sebastian argued back, sounding way too secure in his own self-confidence to be offended.

"No, I'm pretty sure I do," Kurt said, shifting in his wheelchair but not turning his sore neck to look at Sebastian, not that he could with the brace holding his head stiffly in place.

"You don't mean that," Sebastian replied with copious amounts of condescension as he pushed Kurt through the hospital's automatic doors and out into the parking lot. "It's just the medication talking."

"You're a detestable human being," Kurt said.

"Yes, but that's part of my charm." Sebastian straightened his back and smiled proudly, even though there was no way for Kurt to see.

"You're a coward."

Sebastian made a hurt noise.

"See," Sebastian pouted, "that wasn't called for. Now you're just being mean."

This time Kurt tried to turn. He managed to twist his torso around enough to get a glimpse of his fiancé, but a sharp stab of pain shooting up his spine effectively put him back in his place.

"You used me as a human shield!" Kurt yelled, almost inhaling an errant piece of cotton.

"I think 'human shield' is a bit of an overstatement," Sebastian said with a weak chuckle.

"You picked me up and dragged me in front of you!"

Kurt sighed low in that dangerous way that Sebastian had long learned to interpret as meaning he was about to spend a couple of lonely nights sleeping on the sofa with no comfort except for a bottle of Jack and HBO.

Sebastian was really hoping it wouldn't come to that.

"I'm sorry, Kurt!" Sebastian pleaded, stopping the wheelchair at the curb and kneeling beside his fiancé, his cocky façade finally cracking. "I saw the mob of them coming at me and I…I panicked!"

"They were twelve-year-olds!" Kurt roared back without a hint of pity. "Twelve-year-olds on scooters!"

"And bicycles!" Sebastian said, emphasizing it as if it really made a difference.

"For fuck's sake, Sebastian!"

"They were on the sidewalk!" Sebastian continued to argue even though he didn't have any valid excuse for what he did. "They were in blatant violation of traffic laws! Any policeman would have told you that!"

"They weren't even coming at us!" Kurt continued, spitting the cotton out of his mouth where it tumbled down his neck brace and clung to his shirt. Sebastian held back a grimace of disgust as he watched. "We could have just moved to the side and let them pass!"

"But I'm still right!" Sebastian persisted. "They were dangerous! I mean, look at what they did to you!"

For a second, Kurt tried to get up out of the wheelchair and walk away, but his body knew better and stayed put.

"You kept moving me to block your path! If we had stayed still, we would have been fine, but you shoved me in their direction. That's why I snagged my Burberry coat on that kid's bike chain. A coat you're replacing, by the way."

Sebastian's eyes fell to his hands where he fidgeted with his fingers picking invisible lint off of Kurt's pant leg.

"I really think we should make that little mutant replace it," Sebastian muttered, "but whatevs."

"Bas!" Kurt had bypassed annoyed completely and sounded utterly horrified. "That 'little mutant' broke his leg as well! We're lucky his parents don't sue."

Sebastian didn't look up into his fiancé's stormy glare, completely involved in the matter of invisible lint.

"Eh…yes and no…"

Kurt threw his hands in the air and slammed them down on the arm rests, wincing at the sting in his sprained wrist.

"Augh! Bas! You are so infuriating!"

Sebastian sighed again, abandoning his fidgeting and running his hands through his hair. He raised his green eyes to meet Kurt's, but Kurt darted his eyes away.

"Would it help if I said that I was sorry?"

Kurt's eyes drifted back to look down on Sebastian, his stare hard and piercing, simmering with rage. The two simply looked at one another, neither one blinking, neither one backing down. It took a several minutes of gazing into the sincere expression of repentance on Sebastian's upturned face for Kurt's own stony mask of anger to melt even the slightest bit.

"No!" Kurt spat out.

"Well, that's a relief," Sebastian said, standing to push the wheelchair again. "I'm not sure I could have made it sound believable if I tried."

Kurt wasn't ready to forgive his fiancé, but he knew Sebastian's snarky posturing was all an act, no matter how convincing. The man had almost cried on the phone to 9-1-1 when Kurt said he couldn't move his leg. He begged the injured little boy's parents (chaperones on the Boy Scout troop's ten-mile ride around the city) for help because he didn't know what to do. Kurt had seen Sebastian cool, calm, and collected in dozens of worse situations (a fifty-two care pile up on the Brooklyn Bridge during a torrential rainstorm being one of those) and yet the thought of Kurt broken nearly did him in.

Kurt would smile if he thought it wouldn't split his sutures.

Kurt was quiet on the cab ride home, and Sebastian kept his distance, not wanting to irritate his uncomfortable fiancé any more than necessary. It was a tight fit in the back seat, and in the end, Kurt occupied most of the bench with Sebastian shoved up against the car door, acting like an ottoman for Kurt's casted leg. When they got to their penthouse uptown, Sebastian exited the car first, rounded to Kurt's side, and lifted his fiancé out, being careful not to knock around his injured ankle. He helped Kurt awkwardly back into his wheelchair, rolled him up the ramp and through the double doors.

It wasn't until they reached the solitude of the elevator that Sebastian finally spoke again. This time he actually sounded genuinely sorry.

"You're my hero, you know," Sebastian said softly.

"Yeah," Kurt scoffed, "big brave Kurt defending his asshole fiancé from a fleet of adorable little kids. I'll be sure to think about that when I can't even walk to the bathroom by myself."

Sebastian leaned back against the wall, smacking his head in the process.

"Are you ever planning on forgiving me?" Sebastian asked.

"I might," Kurt mumbled, "but that remains to be seen."

"Well, is there anything I can do in the meantime to move things along?" The frustration in Sebastian's tone had returned, but there was still a pitiful, whiny thread of distress underneath, and that was enough for Kurt.

For now.

"Well," Kurt said as the elevator stopped and the door to their floor slid open, "buy me a little silver bell and get yourself a frilly French maid's outfit, and we'll talk."

Sebastian laughed, more relaxed as he wheeled Kurt out of the elevator, but the silence that met his laughter was not at all reassuring.

"You're serious about the French maid outfit, aren't you?" Sebastian asked.

"Oh yeah…" Kurt said, smiling to himself. "Yes, I am."