Klaine Advent

04 - Day

The scent of chocolate greets Kurt as he enters the apartment, and he smiles at the knowledge that for the first time in a week Blaine has beaten him home. The chocolate – brownies, judging by the smell – comes as a particularly delicious bonus. Carefully shutting the door behind him and placing his keys on the hook, Kurt drops his bag to untangle himself from his coat before heading further in to the apartment.

He stops by the sofa, however, his bag dropping with a slight thud as he takes in the sight of Blaine in the kitchen.

A pan of brownies sits cooling on top of the stove, but Blaine seems oblivious to them, standing a foot away in front of a mixing bowl, looking lost. His unkept hair and worn, ill-fitting sweatshirt do nothing to dispel the air of defeat hanging off him like a cloak.

“Blaine?”

“Kurt! You're home!” Blaine startles away from the counter, crossing the small space to pull Kurt in for a hug. Kurt drops his head onto Blaine's shoulder, relishing the comfort before he registers the slight hitch in Blaine's breath and how the hug borders on desperate.

“Blaine?” Kurt leans back enough to meet Blaine's eyes, but he keeps his arms still, trapping Blaine in a loose imitation of the hug from moments before. “What's wrong? You made brownies at ten at night and you're wearing one of my old sweatshirts.” At Blaine's slightly alarmed look Kurt hurries to continue, “I don't mind – I'm pretty sure this,” Kurt moves his arm then, showing off his wedding ring, “means we share everything, but you don't normally make a habit of baking while wearing my clothes.”

Kurt forces himself to be patient in the ensuing silence; he keeps his breathing even, and looks at Blaine. The sweatshirt really is horribly unflattering on Blaine, the shoulders too wide and the sleeves a touch too long – the ends covered in specs of chocolate and what Kurt assumes is flour – and combined with the loose array of Blaine's hair and his socked feet Kurt is seized with a sense of protectiveness. Blaine looks so small.

And hurt.

For a moment, Kurt silently curses NYADA for his class schedule and the theatre for its rehearsal: the demands on his time have left him coming home too late. He missed whatever put Blaine in this mood, and now he's left with the aftermath.

Kurt resists the urge to pull Blaine back into his arms and keep him there.

Possibly forever.

“I –” Blaine sighs, letting the sentence die before Kurt nods slightly, willing Blaine to continue. “For Theatre Writing, the graduating students always ask underclassmen to sign up to audition, since we need the practice and we have more time.” Kurt stays silent, knowing Blaine's working to get to what's actually brothering him. “Anyway, after the announcement in class today some of them caught me in the hall. They said that given my history, they felt it would be better if I sat this one out, that –”

“They what?” Kurt hisses the words, knows his eyes are burning in anger. How dare those idiots – because really, only morons would request Blaine to not audition – try to stifle Blaine's talent.

“They know I got kicked out of NYADA.” Kurt barely hears the whispered words, but their lack of volume does nothing to prevent Kurt's eyes from stinging, his stomach clenching in pain.

“Why –” Kurt pauses, takes a moment to brush a kiss to Blaine's cheek and forcibly lower his voice before continuing, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“If my depression was bad enough that I couldn't stay in undergraduate classes how can they trust that I'll make it to rehearsals and events? What if I have another fight with my significant other?” Blaine keeps his gaze over Kurt's shoulders, the obviously quoted monotone words soft but just as cutting as they must have been hours before.

Kurt forcibly loosens his grip from where he's bunched his hands in Blaine's sweatshirt, takes a moment to breathe out the rage that's eclipsed his vision. Guilt follows, briefly, for arguments and careless words Kurt had thrown out in fear a year ago. But Kurt focuses on Blaine's arms around him, on the knowledge that they've grown.

They're married.

He jolts from this thoughts when he realizes Blaine's speaking again, the words still soft, but his own, “– knew I transferred, but I didn't tell them why. I guess someone got the full story at an audition or something.”

“Only we know the full story,” Kurt snaps. “And they're idiots; all of them. I can't believe –”

“You know the worst part?” Kurt stills, frozen by Blaine's words. “I proved them right, in a way. After…I skipped my last class just to get out of there. And I didn't even get to drink my consolatory coffee because some girl on a cell phone wasn't watching where she was walking.”

“Blaine –”

“So I may have come home and stolen your clothes. And then I decided to make muffins, but I found the chocolate so I made brownies too, and there were leftover chocolate chips so there's cookie dough in the bowl.”

Kurt huffs a laugh even as he blinks away tears, picturing Blaine baking away his pain. “I'm not going to fit in to my clothes.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

Kurt shakes his head and pulls Blaine in closer, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I'm sorry you had a bad day.”

Blaine sighs against his shoulder before stepping back. “Why don't you change, too, and then we can cuddle on the sofa?”

Kurt nods and heads for the bedroom, makes it two steps before turning back. “Hey, Blaine?”

He waits for Blaine to stop, meeting his gaze with a flash of confusion. “Yes?”

“They really are idiots; you're the most talented person I've ever met. And one day when your name is up in lights they'll be lamenting the fact that they passed up the opportunity to have you in their show.”

Blaine's across the room in moments, pulling Kurt in for a kiss. “If my name is ever in lights, it will be because of you.”

“When, Blaine,” Kurt teases, ignoring the slightly breathy tone his voice has taken, “When your name is in lights.”

“You're very certain.”

“I meant it when I said you're the most talented person I know. Now,” Kurt looks toward the kitchen, “why don't you put that cookie dough away – we can make them tomorrow – and pick out a movie?”

“What about the brownies?”

“Just make sure they're covered,” Kurt pauses, offers Blaine a smile. “We can have them for breakfast.”

“Brownies for breakfast?” Blaine's voice betrays his surprise, and Kurt stifles a laugh at his husband's widened eyes.

“Of course. Tomorrow's a new day, and no day can be bad when you have brownies for breakfast.”

“So you're preempting any bad news?”

“Brownies for breakfast, Blaine. What do you think?”

Kurt turns toward their bedroom then, leaving Blaine laughing behind him. A day that begins with brownies cannot go poorly, but Kurt has never played fair when it comes to caring for the people he loves.

So if he has plans to speak to a certain NYADA director about how lax her students are getting with professionalism, well, that's his own prerogative. And if he plans to drop by NYU with a surprise lunch for Blaine just to show how much he loves his husband, well, Blaine is the cutest.

When he returns to the living room minutes later, Blaine is curled into a corner of the sofa, though he holds the blanket open so Kurt can slip in.

“Here,” Blaine holds out a bowl once Kurt has settled, “I'm guessing you never had dinner, but I made some soup earlier so –”

Kurt laughs even as he carefully takes the steaming bowl. “Did you cook everything in the apartment?”

“No?” Blaine offers a smile, “Not everything, but we were planning on going to the store tomorrow, right? Sorry,” Blaine shrugs, “I just – I had a bad day.”

Kurt hums around a mouthful of soup before swallowing. “I'm sorry. And I'm not complaining – this is delicious.” Kurt pauses. “Just one bad day; tomorrow will be better.”

“Because of brownies for breakfast?”

Kurt nods before leaning in to give Blaine a quick kiss. “And then, one day, your name in lights.”