"Just because we're married doesn't mean we're back together," Kurt said.

Blaine looked up from the menu at the diner they'd gone to for brunch. Kurt had called in sick for the day, since he'd woken up late and there was no way he could wrap his mind around work anyway. Blaine had canceled the two apartment showings he'd had scheduled.

"It doesn't?"

"No," Kurt said decisively. "Also, all that sex we had doesn't mean we're back together either, but that should be obvious by now."

"Of course," Blaine said, trying to hide his amusement.

"Just because I promised to spend the rest of my life with you doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you. Or that I've gone back to trusting you."

Blaine motioned the waitress over. "I'll have the french toast, please. And a glass of orange juice."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Kurt protested. "I haven't decided."

"My husband will have waffles," Blaine told the waitress.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked again, stunned.

"It's a metaphor," Blaine told him. He turned back to the waitress. "And hot chocolate."

"Is that a metaphor, too?" Kurt asked angrily.

"No, honey. That's just because I know you love hot chocolate."

The waitress looked at Kurt for confirmation, pen poised over her order pad.

"What he said," Kurt grumbled. She jotted down the order and he handed over his menu.

Kurt dumped over the bowl of sugar packets and started arranging them into stacks. Blaine watched him, concerned but quiet.

"Your husband," Kurt said softly.

"Hmm?"

"Your husband will have waffles," Kurt repeated.

"I shouldn't have ordered for you," Blaine said. "I'm sorry. It was rude, and I—"

"She didn't even blink when you called me that."

"No, she didn't."

"And neither did I," Kurt said thoughtfully. He straightened the piles of sugar packets.

"Is this going to be okay?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. "Yes. It is. Just don't fucking order for me ever again."

"Noted."