Sometimes Kurt is superstitious. Not about a lot of things; he just avoids opening umbrellas in the house or walking under ladders. Things like that. Kurt's not trying to garner bad luck if he can avoid it.

Blaine thinks it's adorable, or so he's told Kurt. Granted, Blaine thinks a lot things about Kurt are adorable. Like his laugh, the way he scrunches his nose when he's about to offer his honest opinion, even his patented bitch glare.

Now that Kurt thinks about it, he may have to start asking other people for their opinions on his outfit choices – his fiancé may be a tad biased.

Also, Kurt is sure that Blaine is no longer going to think his minor superstitions are adorable or cute any longer, especially since Kurt is currently helping slightly distraught Blaine splash cold water into his eyes.

But maybe Kurt should start the story from the beginning.

..::..

It was a perfectly normal afternoon. Kurt and Blaine were both home after a long day of classes at NYADA. Blaine was working on a paper for his musical history class, while Kurt was trying to unwind from his day by drafting a few new outfit ideas in his sketchpad; he had already given up on trying to get some homework done.

Unfortunately, Kurt's attempts to relax were inadequate, his shoulders were still tense from that day's dance classes and he could feel the stress building from just sitting still.

Kurt put down his sketchpad and groaned as he stood up and rolled his shoulders a couple of times. His movement pulled Blaine's attention away from his laptop. “Hey, you okay?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah, just a little sore from dance class, I think I need to walk it off,” Kurt replied.

“Anything I can do to help?” Blaine said teasingly while suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. Kurt laughed as he responded “sure stud, you can get your butt up and help me make something for dinner.”

Blaine pouted, but Kurt could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't really put out. His conclusion was proven right when Blaine quickly bounded up from his position on the floor and bounced over to Kurt. “What are you making?” Blaine asked. It was decided very early on, once they moved into the apartment together, that Blaine was the sous chef to Kurt's master chef.

As they both walked into the kitchen, Blaine started rubbing Kurt's shoulders in a soothing gesture as they rounded the dining room table and headed toward the pantry. “Something easy?” Kurt inquired. “Pasta!” Blaine shouted a little too enthusiastically.

Kurt harrumphed; Blaine had become a pasta aficionado ever since they visited that new Italian restaurant that just opened two blocks away from their apartment.

“Fine,” Kurt agreed, and immediately wanted to pinch Blaine in his side at the smug happy smile that graced his face. But Kurt had to admit that he liked making Blaine happy, just as much as Blaine liked seeing him smile.

Kurt got out the ingredients for the spaghetti, while Blaine walked over to the cabinets and began pulling out the pots and pans that will be needed to prepare dinner. Kurt thought this was really going to be an easy dinner, because all he spotted in their pantry was a box of angel hair pasta and a can of three cheese marinara sauce. Kurt planned to improve the recipe a little with some chopped garlic and Italian seasoning.

As Kurt walked over to the stovetop, he saw that Blaine had already filled a pot with water and set it to boil. Without even thinking, he reached for the salt (Blaine always forgot to add salt to the water when making pasta).

Kurt wasn't paying too much attention to where exactly the salt was, he was also simultaneously adjusting the heat on the stovetop.

So when his hand made contact with the salt shaker, his aim was off center and the salt shaker fell over, spilling a bit of salt onto the countertop. It wasn't a major spill, or even a minor one for that matter, but Kurt's ‘adorable' superstitions kicked in at that moment.

The only problem…

Kurt couldn't remember whether it was the right or left shoulder you were supposed to throw salt over to ward off any bad luck.

He was standing there mumbling to himself, “right…no left... yeah left. Or was it right?” when he decided to just throw salt over both shoulders.

Of course, it was just when Kurt was throwing two small handfuls of the common spice over his shoulders that Blaine turned around from his position behind him. Blaine just got out the words “Hey Kurt, do you know where we keep the…” before he was accosted with a face full of salt.

“Argghhh,” was Blaine's only response. The following silence in the room was quickly interrupted by Kurt screaming “Blaine!” as he quickly rushed over to Blaine to assess the damage. He immediately began leading him to the sink, gently maneuvering Blaine in the right direction with a hand on the small of his back, all the time muttering “I'm sorry, I'm sorry…. I'm sorry.”

Blaine, for his part, was still making pitiful whining sounds and noticeably cringing as he clenched his eyes shut.

It was just after Kurt had managed to splash a couple of handfuls of cold water into Blaine's irritated eyes when he noticed.

Blaine was panting and starting to sway a little, where he had been previously leaning over the sink basin.

Kurt quickly realized that Blaine was hyperventilating. Blaine just managed to blink his eyes open when his legs gave out and Kurt had to catch him before he hit his forehead on his way down to the floor.

Kurt had a good hold around Blaine's waist, but decided to lower him to the ground just to be safe.

After all, Kurt was still exhausted from dance class and didn't want to lose his grip on Blaine and cause him any further injury.

Blaine was still breathing way too rapidly for Kurt's liking. Kurt was starting to worry.

Sure, salt in the eye is uncomfortable, but Blaine was experiencing a full on panic attack. That's when it hit Kurt.

The slushie. Blaine must have had a flashback to Kurt's junior year. Kurt recalled the situation like it was yesterday. Blaine had been injured pushing Kurt out of the way, when Sebastian tried to hit Kurt with a slushie with added rock salt.

Kurt's worst fears were confirmed shortly, as he sat there rocking Blaine back and forth in his arms.

Blaine began mumbling, “So... cold Kurt. Kurt it's so cold.” His eyes were clenched shut again and he was making pitiful mewling sounds as Kurt tried to sooth him.

It was about twenty minutes later, that Kurt managed to calm Blaine down. He had to keep reminding him where he was and what they were doing. Even going so far as to explain to Blaine how tonight's spaghetti wasn't going to be as good as the pasta primavera they had had last week at that new Italian place, “because I just can't work those types of miracles with canned marinara sauce, Blaine.”

Blaine's hiccup-like giggle was Kurt's first clue that Blaine's panic attack was subsiding. Kurt could tell his breathing was returning to normal; it was only slightly accelerated now.

“Feeling better?” Kurt asked. Blaine squeaked out a small “yeah,” that sounded more like a sigh.

Kurt had stopped rocking Blaine, and was now supporting Blaine's full weight as they both lounged on the kitchen floor.

Kurt could hear the water still running from the faucet above and behind him, and he could see the steam rising from the pot of boiling water.

Dinner was probably going to have to wait. Or maybe they could just order in. But Kurt couldn't bring himself to care or to move from his position when Blaine was still recovering from his panic attack.

“I didn't know it still affected you so much,” Kurt whispered in the still of the room.

“It doesn't usually,” Blaine replied. “It's just been on my mind. I have an ophthalmologist appointment coming up, and this is the first time I have had to go since…” Blaine's explanation trailed off.

“I get it,” was Kurt's only response. Kurt hugged Blaine closer to his chest, and Blaine placed his hands over Kurt's on his stomach. They'll get up in a minute. But as Kurt placed a kiss below Blaine's right ear, and Blaine leaned into the soft touch of Kurt's lips – they were content to be where they were at the moment. Out of Ohio, and in their own apartment. Together.