Based on a post from Imagine Your OTP (god bless that Tumblr user)- "Imagine Person A is wandering around, upset over their thoughts, and stumbles across Person B. Person B smiles and starts to greet them but is silenced as Person A envelopes them in a hug, burying their face into Person B's neck and doesn't let go for a long time."

Title from the song Bad Day by Daniel Powter, which sounds depressing- but is really lovely.

(Ohh someone's not creative today)

Bad Day

Kurt wasn't even cooking at this point, just leaning against the counter as the water was boiling in a pot, long strings of spaghetti swimming calmly in it. They had leftover sauce from yesterday, so he didn't have to make anything but pasta- and not doing anything was driving him mad.

He rubbed his eyes, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that yelled "wrinkles!" as he thought about every little thing that annoyed him today.

Blaine left early that morning, which meant barely a sleepy kiss goodbye and showering alone and having breakfast alone, and that was already a crappy start to his day.

Then he spilled coffee on his shirt- and had to change his entire outfit, because he couldn't find the only other shirt that went with the original outfit, and as a result he was late for work, and while Isabelle wasn't mad, she made it clear he probably shouldn't be late again.

And then he had so much work he had to eat lunch at his desk, and the cute mailman (he was married, not dead, thank you) didn't show up once throughout the entire day.

On the way home, the subway was filled to the brim, and he stood the entire ride squished between a guy with dreadlocks that smelled like cigarettes and a girl with a very short skirt that eyed him suspiciously.

After all of that, he came home to find that Blaine wasn't even there- a nervous call later, he found out Blaine had to stay at work a few more hours to finish something he really had to do until tomorrow.

So now, after wasting the rest of his afternoon watching TV and napping, he was standing in the kitchen, boiling pasta and pitying himself, because that would obviously help, right?

The doorbell rang, and he groaned.

After making sure the water wasn't boiling over, he walked to the door. Looking in the peephole, he saw Blaine standing there with a bouquet in his hand-

Kurt pulled the door open hurriedly with a sigh of relief.

"Hi baby! I'm sorry I'm so late, and that I forgot my keys again, but I got you flowers and I thought we could-"

Kurt let out a little whimper and fell forward into Blaine's arms, gripping him tightly and pressing his face to the side of his neck, breathing deeply the scent of home. Well, the scent of sweat and public transportation, but still.

"-eat out?" Blaine finished slowly, confused, tightening his arms around Kurt's limp body.

"Already making dinner," he sniffed. "Bad day, can we just eat and go to bed?"

Blaine stroked his hair gently. "Of course, honey."

"Still wanna have sex, though. Barely got to kiss you this morning," Kurt muttered, pouting into Blaine's skin.

Blaine smiled, kissing the top of his head. "Of course."

They stood there for a long while, the flowers squashed against Kurt's back, Blaine's arms holding him close, their bodies molded into each other's.