Nap
Blaine opens the loft door to eerie silence.
"Kurt?" he calls out, shutting the door behind him and dropping his bag.
No answer.
"Kurt?" He walks slowly to their bedroom, looking around him as he goes. "Kurt?"
He hears a groan behind him and jumps ten feet in the air. The source of the groan is Kurt, who is lying face-down on the couch, covered in a blanket; Blaine didn't even see him when he got in.
"Kurt. Are you sleeping?"
Kurt nods into the couch.
"It's seven p.m.," says Blaine, walking to the couch and crouching next to Kurt's face. He strokes gently down Kurt's back.
"'Was trying to take a nap," mutters Kurt.
"At seven o'clock?" he asks, rubbing Kurt's back.
"No. At three in the afternoon."
Blaine snickers. "You poor thing, you slept for the entire afternoon! You're so not going to sleep tonight."
"I know," Kurt moans. "I set myself an alarm for, like, three hours ago, but I just turned it off and when back to sleep. I'm the world's worst napper."
"Oh, honey."