Lucky Star
Kurt finds Blaine hunched over the coffee table in the living room. When he rests his hand on his shoulder, Blaine jumps.
"Kurt! You scared me," he says, not looking up from the paper he's cutting. Scattered all over the table are papers in every color of the rainbow, some cut into strips, some wrinkled into angry little balls, some brimming over the edge of the table and sliding down onto the carpeted floor. Blaine is halfway through cutting a red sheet of paper into even, half-inch-wide strips.
"Whatcha doing?" he asks, putting his chin on the top of Blaine's head.
"Oh, it's a really cool thing for the kids!"
The Kids are the students in Blaine's "special" classroom, which he'd taken upon himself enthusiastically.
"Here, I'll show you!" he says, excitement oozing out of his pores. He takes one of the red paper strips and holds it gently. "They're called lucky stars," he murmurs as he concentrates on folding the paper, his hands careful as if he's caring for a baby. Kurt smiles, pressing a kiss to his endearing husband's curly hair.
Blaine tucks away the end of the strip to its place and squeezes the star carefully into its bloated shape. When he's done, he presents Kurt with the tiny outcome; it is indeed a star, small and thick and incredibly cute (much like Blaine himself). Kurt chuckles, says, "It's lovely, darling."
"It'll give them something to quietly, peacefully play with, you know? It's also great for stress, and focusing in class and such."
"That's a really good idea. They're going to love it," he says, grinning.
"You think so?" asks Blaine, rolling the red star between his forefinger and his thumb.
"I know so," says Kurt with another kiss to Blaine's head. "Now come on, my shining star. We've got a dinner to make."