"I do not run away from my problems."

Kurt could feel himself tense, just a little, his defenses firing up - right up until the moment that the two hands reached over to cup his face, drawing him in and holding him still.

"Yes," Blaine said, his voice soft and deep, his lips a whisper away from Kurts. "Yes, you do."

The tension dissipated as Blaines lips touched his, but Kurts instincts still told him to make his case, the lips currently migrating to the side of his mouth be damned.

"Do I need to remind you that Im the talking half of this couple? And I know I drive you crazy with all the talk sometimes."

"You do," Blaine said. He kissed at Kurts jaw.

"You were supposed to deny that."

"I will never deny that you drive me absolutely crazy." Blaine pressed a last peck to the tip of Kurts nose. "I picked up groceries for dinner. Come keep me company while I cook, and well talk some more."

"Is this my make-up dinner?" Kurt asked.

"Something like that," Blaine said. He clambered off the floor and extended a hand to Kurt, pulling him up to his feet.

"And I take it its supposed to precede make-up sex."

"Lets hope," Blaine said, and led Kurt by the hand to the kitchen.

****

Kurt sat at the kitchen island, arranging and rearranging the roses Blaine had brought home as a peace offering.

"And what is this menu thats going to make me forgive you for walking out on me today?" he said.

Blaine pulled items from the pantry and the refrigerator one by one: balsamic vinegar, arugula, fresh parmesan, butter, lemon, winter squash, and a package wrapped in white butchers paper.

 "Unoaked Chardonnay or Blanc-de-Blancs?" Blaine asked.

"Bubbles," Kurt answered. "Definitely bubbles."

"Said with the authority of one of the worlds great wine critics," Blaine said. "Theres a bottle in the chiller."

Kurt found it quickly - a 2008 Schramsberg -made fast work of the gold foil and metal cage before twisting the cork out with a solid pop, his old sommeliers skills still well intact. He pulled two flutes from the cabinet, and poured, setting a glass by Blaines workspace.

He breathed in the sparkling wine before taking a quick sip. "Hmm. Crisp -  apples and pineapple - as should be expected."

"Of course," Blaine said, playing along.

"But, wait. There we go. Im picking up some toast - hazelnut." Kurt closed his eyes, and exhaled. "Well done, North Coast."

He may have been out of the business for a while, but Kurt Hummel-Andersons skills at detecting the essence of a wine were untarnished by time.

"Well done, sir," Blaine said, clinking their glasses together and sipping. "Now, what would you say pairs well with a crisp sparkler?"

"A hard cheese, apples if serving as an appetizer, but with dinner? Shellfish, or something spicy and light."

"As luck would have it, were having lemon pepper scallops," Blaine said.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. You really are trying to get back in my good graces."

Blaine washed the scallops and the vegetables, setting them aside, and pre-heated a sauté pan on the cook top with olive oil and cracked pepper.

Kurt was always dazzled by Blaines culinary skills; not just the fact that he could cook - a bonus in Kurts book - but the way he moved around the kitchen. He alternated swiftly from refrigerator to counter to cook top in series of fluid movements, no gesture wasted. He chopped vegetables with precision, and held the scallops as if holding a small bird he had just rescued. And more often than not, Kurt would find himself leaning against the kitchen counter, glass of wine in hand, simply taking in the scene.

"Could you plate the salad and the veggies?" Blaine said, rousting him. With a fiery flash, Blaine had tossed the scallops in the hot oil. He reached for his glass, took a sip, and then tipped the flute to the pan, adding a splash of wine to the mix. He finished with a generous squeeze of lemon and a dash of minced garlic, flipping the scallops until they turned opaque.

"Top off our glasses and dinners served," he said, setting the plates and pulling a chair out for Kurt - a gentlemanly gesture that provided assurance that he was still working to earn his husbands forgiveness. Kurt decided that Blaine could keep trying, if only for a little while longer.

And while the conversation had at first been forced, Blaine had become downright chatty since opening up about his family history, more open and confident than Kurt had seen him in months.

"This whole thing about confronting conflict -you zeroed in on that so easily that it kind of caught me off-balance," Blaine said. "I wasnt used to getting called out on that, except for maybe by my brother, and I usually just tune him out.

"But Kurt, I get it. It took a while to get here, but I think I understand now, and I promise you, Im going to make the effort. Im going to let you know whats on my mind, even if Im not comfortable talking about it. Im going to make the effort for you - not necessarily for anyone else, but for you... yes."

"You really should be doing this for yourself," Kurt said, sipping at his wine.

"I am. But whats been happening here affects us both, and it isnt fixed just because Im opening up. When I said that Im not the only one here who runs away from their problems, I wasnt just talking. You do it, too - maybe in a different way, but you run away, too."

"I love you, Blaine, but you are so full of shit," Kurt said, raising his glass in a mock salute.

"Kurt, Im serious. You know how Santana loves to talk about truth time? Well, heres mine: Talking about your problems is one thing, but acting on them is something else entirely."

The flirty undercurrent to the criticism was gone. Kurt could tell that as far as Blaine was concerned, this was no joke.

"Kurt, why do you think I kept asking you if you were happy? Because you obviously werent; how could you be? You were all about your job when I met you. But you gave that up. You gave it up for me, and lately you seem like youre a little... lost. I dont want to be the reason that youre unhappy."

"You could never be the reason Im unhappy," Kurt said. "Except maybe today, when you seriously pissed me off."

Blaine bit his lip, and stirred the vegetables around his plate.

"I am sorry about that, Kurt. Really."

"I believe you. I just wish you would tell me where you went."

"You talked to Santana. You probably already know most of it," he said.

"Not exactly. She really just seemed to be checking in on you. She wondered if you got home, and whether you ever showered."

Kurt raised a judgmental eyebrow. Blaine rolled his eyes in return. "After dinner, I promise."

He told Kurt about how he froze up, frustrated, and stormed out of the house without any real goal or direction, aimed like a homing beacon to Sonoma Square. He parked himself at a bakery and ordered a coffee, only to let it grow cold until Santana came along.

"I have to give her credit," he said. "She got me out of my funk."

"By slapping you?"

"Uh, kind of. She told you?"

"No, I pretty much guessed that one."

"She told me I was an idiot and hit me up to join the board of the Wine Bureau again - which you know Ill never do."

"Of course."

"But she made a case, and it got me thinking..."

"Oh no..."

"Kurt, you should run for president of the Wine Bureau."

"Excuse me?"

"You should do it, Kurt. Santana doesnt need me. What she really wants is someone to represent the brand, and who better than you?"

"Maybe the owner? The winemaker?" Kurt said.

"No. Id be lousy at it - and Id hate it," Blaine said. "I help out plenty around the valley - you and Santana both know that. But its a private thing. And its fine to belong to the Bureau, but I dont want to be some frontman. You know thats not me - but it is you. Youre great in front of people, and youre as much a part of Rhapsody as I am."

Kurt brought his elbow to the table so he could cradle his temple in his hand. Despite marriage, despite helping with the business, this was the first time that Kurt had thought of himself as a partner in Rhapsody, or that Blaine had described him as such.

"Its not really a job. Its more symbolic. But lets face it - youre a lot better giving speeches than I am," Blaine said.

"And Santanas on board with this?"

"Once we talked it through, yes. In fact, I dont think she wants me anywhere near that Board room any more."

"Smart woman," Kurt said.

"So youll think about it?"

Blaine had a point. He was a leader in his own way. Kurt had seen it countless times since they first met - rallying local vintners to submit their top vintages for the Taste hallenge, convincing them to trust Kurt, helping them with challenging fermentation cycles and unpredictable harvests.

But Blaines leadership style was both muted and carefully cultivated. Through all of it, Kurt had never seen him draw attention to himself.

That was Kurts specialty, and always had been.

Kurt nodded.

"Yeah. I can see myself doing that. Ill call her tomorrow."

Blaine grinned. He piled vegetables on to his fork, finally taking a hearty bite.

"Okay, so you spent all morning talking to Santana, but what about the rest of the day?"

Blaine paused, mid-chew, then took his time swallowing.

"I had to go over to St. Helena," he said, returning to a pattern of swirling vegetables around his plate.

A moment of silent recognition passed. Kurt hoped he was wrong.

"Where were you, Blaine?" he asked, his voice crisp.

Blaine set his fork down and locked eyes with Kurt.

"I went over to Dalton."

"You did what?"

Blaine reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together.

"I needed to talk to Sebastian."

"...words I never expected to come out of your mouth."

"I told you he visited the tasting room down on the square while you were away."

"Something Im still coming to grips with," Kurt said.

"He was looking for you and, at least by Sebastians standards, was perfectly well-behaved. He had that crazy idea about you working for Dalton..."

"Something that will never happen..."

"I know, and especially if youre going to be representing the Sonoma Wine Bureau," Blaine said. "But I got thinking that Sebastian might be on to something. 

Blaine adjusted his chair, angling himself closer to Kurt.

"I was sitting there at the café this morning wondering how we move forward, that wed hit this roadblock that we just needed to navigate. We love each other - I dont think thats ever been in question. But its been... difficult... adjusting. Youve had this gap in your professional life, and I know how much your work means to you. This alone isnt enough for you, Kurt. And you feeling less than whole isnt enough for me. Does that make any sense at all?"

Kurt squinted, and gazed down to their clasped hands. He nodded.

"I really didnt want you going back to work for Quinn, but your talent is wasted if youre just biding time around here. And eventually, I think youd resent me if you didnt get back to work."

"Thats not true..."

"It is, Kurt, and thats okay. Because I know that youre not you if youre not doing what you love. You wouldnt be the man I fell in love with, just like I wouldnt be me if I suddenly gave up winemaking."

"Youd better not."

"So I got thinking about what Sebastian told me, about how he wanted to box out competition with some new publication."

"I repeat, I am not going to work for Sebastian Smythe," Kurt said.

"And I wouldnt ask you to, but I think theres another option, and I wanted to discuss it with him. I needed to see if it was feasible before I talked to you about it."

"So you planned my future without talking to me?"

"Kind of like you making a decision about Quinns offer without telling me? If so, then yes."

Kurt glared across the table for a moment. Blaine may be right - Kurt knew exactly how anxious he had been about Quinns offer, but nonetheless took his time rejecting the offer. But just because his husband had a point didnt mean Kurt had to be happy about it.

"Kurt?" Blaine said. "Just hear me out."

 ****