Blaine arrived home early to an empty house; that was his first hint that Kurt's day had been less than stellar.  He hurried to plug in his phone—dead for at least three hours now due to his own carelessness—and sure enough, he had two voicemails and several missed messages.

2:46 PM  Blaine it's bad… Anita spent almost an hour screaming at me when she discovered the fabric was ruined, and Isabel gave me this look and disappeared into her office without a word…

4:08 PM  She's out now but she won't even look at me… I've never seen her like this before

4:26 PM  I wish you would answer your phone, I really need you right now… :-(

4:43 PM  Cassi just sent word that there's a performance we have to attend at 5:30 this evening… 5:30 Blaine!  And I'm supposed to work until 6 and this is New York and what does she think we're magicians!!!?

6:02 PM  I didn't go, I couldn't bring myself to ask Isabel.  Why aren't you checking your messages?  I'm going to be here at least another hour…

Blaine scowled down at the phone and then tossed it onto the bed, heedless of the power cord that was now straining with the distance.  It was currently ten minutes to eight, so Kurt should be home soon.  He hoped.  He was contemplating what takeout to order them when he heard the door open and slam shut again.

“Kurt?” he called, too-loud but a little tentative.  “Kurt, I'm sorry I…” he paused as he stepped into the living room, where Kurt stood just in front of the door.  Blaine might have mistaken him for a statue if he hadn't been shaking so badly, if his face wasn't currently so crestfallen, defeated, human in contrast to his usual model-like perfection.  “Kurt, sweetheart what's wrong?” he asked, rushing over to his fiancé and tugging the bag from his arms to toss it onto the couch.  “What did Isabel do?”

Kurt didn't answer right away, still frozen in place and staring with glazed-over eyes at nothing in particular.  Blaine reached up to cup his face with one hand, gently turning his head in an attempt to establish contact.

Finally, and to Blaine's immense relief, Kurt spoke.  “She didn't do anything,” he said, the words hushed and a little scratchy.  “She still hadn't said a word to me when I left.”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine said sincerely.  The urge was strong to hug Kurt, but something about his demeanor made Blaine hold back.  “You know she loves you, though; I'm sure she'll come around.”

Kurt shook his head, still not quite there.  “It's not about love.  I've cost them nearly a thousand dollars in material.”

“You'll make it up,” Blaine told him stubbornly.  Then, more hesitant, “do you need me right now?  Would it help?”

It had been a long time since Blaine had seen him this bad, if ever, and certainly not since before they began their… arrangement.  He wasn't sure how to respond to this Kurt, and he hated feeling helpless.

Kurt shook his head, and Blaine barely repressed a sigh, feeling completely at a loss. 

“I was about to order takeout.  Any suggestions?”

This seemed to spark something in Kurt, and for a moment his eyes cleared.  “No, I'll make dinner.”

“Are you sure?  It's kind of late.”

“I want to,” Kurt said, finally moving towards the kitchen.

“Alright then,” Blaine called after him.  “Let me know if you want help!”

Kurt didn't answer, and Blaine couldn't help but feel unsettled as the other man disappeared through the doorway.  He knew he couldn't push Kurt to accept his assistance where it wasn't wanted.  Could he?  Of course not; that wouldn't be right. 

Shaking it off, Blaine headed back into the bedroom, determined to lose himself for a while in one of the hideously long essays he had to write for his world cultures class.

He made a good go of it for a time, but fifteen minutes in the noises from the kitchen were proving too distracting.  Blaine was fighting the instinct to jump to his feet and rush to his fiancé's aid when he suddenly heard a loud crash and the unmistakable sound of Kurt swearing loudly.  There was no fight about it anymore; Blaine was already halfway through the door.

By the time he reached the kitchen, Kurt had the faucet running and his arm stuck beneath it, sweater sleeves rolled up but threatening to fall.  A small pot full of sauce was upturned on the stove, spilling over into a larger dish and onto the floor, its contents still bubbling and sizzling slowly. 

Kurt looked over at Blaine the moment he appeared, his chest heaving and eyes manic.  “Blaine,” he cried out like he couldn't help it.  “I ruined it, Blaine.”

Not sparing a moment to think, Blaine snapped into action.

Switching the stove off quickly, he hurried over Kurt, grasping his clammy hand and turning his arm under the water until he could see the injury properly.  A few inches of Kurt's forearm were bright red.  It would probably blister, but it wasn't severe enough that Blaine couldn't treat it himself.

He rubbed Kurt's back soothingly and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hoping that his presence might calm the other man enough to slow his breathing.  It didn't work.  Kurt swayed on his feet, looking about ready to collapse.

“Woah, sweetheart,” Blaine told him, supporting some of his weight.  “I really need you to stand here and run your arm under the water for a little longer, okay?  Do you think you can do that?”

To Blaine's dismay, Kurt shook his head slowly, as if in a daze.

“Alright,” Blaine said, thinking fast, “here, then.”  He pulled a chair over for Kurt, carefully settling him into it without jarring his arm before grabbing a large baking pan to fill with water.  Kneeling before his fiancé, he careful balanced the pan on Kurt's lap.  “I need you to sit here for five more minutes and soak your arm.  Try to relax for me, baby… you're hyperventilating and it's scary.  I'm going to clean this up and I'll be right back with you, okay?  I promise I won't leave the room.”

To his relief, Kurt nodded and followed his instructions.  Blaine hurried to clean up the sauce and the remains of whatever Kurt had been trying to pour it on, careful not to burn himself as well.  When he was finished he sifted through their medical cupboard—grateful for the first time that Kurt's extensive collection of hygiene products forced them to store the bulk of their supplies in the kitchen—and gathered what he needed.  Making his way back over to his fiancé, Blaine knelt again at his side.

Kurt was breathing a little more evenly, but his eyes were still unfocused and he startled at the touch of Blaine's hand on his arm, gently lifting it from the water and setting the pan aside.  He hissed as Blaine patted his injury dry, Blaine shushing him and rubbing circles into his thigh until he'd finished.  Finally, Blaine applied some burn cream he'd found and wrapped the area carefully in gauze, kissing over the makeshift bandage where he'd taped it shut.

“How are you, Kurt?” he asked, trying and failing to meet the other man's eyes.

Kurt didn't answer, but his arms wound around Blaine's neck, tugging him closer until his head was pressed awkwardly against Kurt's stomach.  Blaine returned the embrace for a few moments, his concern refusing to ease, before pulling back.

“Kurt,” he tried, but his fiancé still wasn't looking at him.  He cleared his throat, prepared to use a little more force.  “Kurt!”

This time the brunette's eyes snapped up to his, only a smidgen clearer, but Blaine knew he had his attention.

“Can you stand now?” he asked more softly but with just as much authority.

Kurt nodded, the movement slight.

“Good,” Blaine said, his relief palpable.  “That's good, baby.  Listen to me, okay?  I want you to go into the bedroom for me.  Undress and lay face down on the bed.  That's all you need to do or worry about right now, sweetheart.  Can you do that for me?”

Kurt nodded again and Blaine offered him a smile in reward, gently taking his hand and tugging him to his feet.  “Go,” he repeated, kissing him chastely.

Once Kurt was out of sight, Blaine sighed, taking a minute to collect himself and formulate a plan.  Despite his denial earlier, Blaine could tell that Kurt really needed his Dom right now, so that was who he would get.

He went to the phone first, quickly making a decision and dialing a Middle Eastern place a few blocks away that he knew had amazing hummus and baklava, two things Kurt loved.  It was a Friday night, so the wait was 45 minutes, but Blaine wasn't bothered—that gave him plenty of time to focus on Kurt and hopefully bring him out of his funk.

Blaine stopped by the bathroom, collecting what he needed and only disrupting the order of a few of Kurt's products in the process.  He was certain he'd be lectured for it later, but it was a small price to pay if it meant getting back to his submissive sooner.

When he finally entered the bedroom, he found Kurt lying just as instructed—his pale skin spread out beautifully atop their navy sheets.  He smiled to himself, shivering with the stirrings of arousal, but easily tamped it down.  Kurt made no acknowledgement of his presence as Blaine quickly grabbed Kurt's bracelet from their dresser drawer, and Blaine's heart leapt at what a beautiful, perfect sub Kurt was for him.

Until he approached the bed and noticed Kurt's tear-stained cheeks, and it plummeted just as swiftly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, climbing up onto the bed and stroking down Kurt's back.  “Didn't I tell you not to think about it?”

“I'm sorry; I couldn't stop it,” Kurt murmured—the first words he'd spoken since Blaine had found him in the kitchen.

“That's alright, baby,” Blaine assured him, then considered for a moment and hastily added “… this time.  I just hate seeing you hurting.  Why weren't you honest with me before when I asked if you needed this?”

Kurt's eyes squeezed shut.  “I thought I didn't deserve it.”

Blaine's brow furrowed as he frowned.  “You'll always, always deserve my love, Kurt,” he responded a little sternly.  “I'm not happy that you weren't honest with me, but we'll address that later.”

Kurt nodded, eyes still closed.

“Will you put on the bracelet for me, baby?” Blaine asked more softly.  “Let me take care of you?”

To Blaine's immense relief, Kurt nodded again, allowing Blaine to slip the bracelet onto his wrist with practiced ease and sighing when Blaine pressed a kiss over the band.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Blaine began, reaching into the nightstand drawer and easily finding what he sought, holding it up for Kurt to see, “the first thing we're going to do is get you into this.  Lift your head for me please.”

Kurt did so easily, his eyes sparking at the blindfold in Blaine's hand and then quickly disappearing beneath it.

“Does that feel okay?”

The sub whined in assent, and Blaine absentmindedly stroked fingers down the back of his head.  “Very good, Kurt.  Now, I'm going to tie your ankles to the posts, but I can't have your arms tied for what I'm going to do, so I need you to keep them very still for me.”

Kurt was quiet, lax as Blaine made quick work of securing his ankles to either bed post with the silk ties they'd purchased a few months back.  Blaine rained kisses down on his calves and ankles as he worked, wanting to be sure that his sub was rewarded for his cooperation and reminded that he was loved.

“Are you still with me, baby?”

A slight shift of Kurt's head, delayed and barely there, and Blaine smiled, pleased with his answer.

“I know there's a lot on your mind right now, but I want you to clear it for me.  Just relax.  I'm going to touch you, and I want you focus on that and nothing else.”

Kurt hummed contentedly and wiggled, clearly only halfway present, and Blaine smacked his ass lightly at the movement.

“None of that now, sweetheart.  Lay still.”

Satisfied when the other man obliged immediately, Blaine grabbed the bottle he'd brought in from the bathroom and carefully climbed onto the bed, straddling Kurt's thighs.  The sweetly-scented oil poured out more quickly than he had anticipated, so he allowed some to drip from his fingers into a pretty pattern on Kurt's pale skin, his fiancé whimpering because it was just a bit too cold.

“Shhh,” he soothed as he slicked his hands, then pressed them gently into his sub's shoulders.  “Relax.”

Aside from a few knots around his neck, Kurt's body was quite loose, carefully kept that way with weekly yoga.  Blaine trailed his fingers along every inch of Kurt's back and shoulders, sometimes following with gentle kisses, lingering where Kurt's sighs of contentment were most numerous.  He worked across Kurt's arms, skimmed down the sleek sides of his torso and over his hips to massage his thighs, then his calves and feet, finally returning to his ass.  Though it wasn't his intent, he knew from experience that any touch here would likely arouse his submissive, and he wanted to be sure to cover all his ground in their limited time.

Blaine wasn't wrong.  Kurt's soft sighs and hums quickly turned to moans as he kneaded his ass, and he was moving again, clearly trying to arch into Blaine's touch but unable to given his restraints.  The Dom thought of reprimanding him, but it was too tempting to take a different approach.

Slowly, teasingly, he dragged a single finger gently down the line of Kurt's crack, trailing back up to trace barely-there circles around his hole.

Kurt keened.

Blaine felt his own arousal—trivial but present since they'd first begun—suddenly spike, but it was easily reigned in.  He glanced at the clock.  Twenty minutes left if the restaurant had been accurate.  He just might be able to swing that.

 Quickly grabbing the lube from the nightstand drawer, he slicked up two fingers and fucked into Kurt with no warning, causing the man beneath him to cry out sharply.

“Shh, Kurt.  You're so hot for me like this.”  Blaine leaned forward to press a kiss to Kurt's shoulder as he began to expertly work him over, curving his fingers just so.  His fiancé was rutting frantically—up into his hand and down against the sheets—and Blaine decided to take pity on him, shifting so that he was sitting at Kurt's side and reaching to awkwardly work at the knots around Kurt's ankles.

“Up on your knees, baby,” he commanded softly when Kurt was finally free, enjoying the sight of his submissive scrambling.  “That's it; I'll make it so much better.”

Eleven minutes left according to the clock, and Blaine set a brutal pace, reaching underneath to clasp just so around his fiancé's shaft.  Two minutes in and Kurt was practically sobbing.  Blaine smiled, loving this part best of all.

“Let go, Kurt;” he commanded, bending quickly to sink his teeth into the beautiful pale flesh of the other man's ass as he climaxed, soothing over the bite with his tongue as his sub slowly came down.

When it was over Kurt collapsed, a quivering mess that settled perfectly into the curve of Blaine's body just seconds before the doorbell chimed, three minutes early.

Gently easing the blindfold off and setting it aside, he took a moment to study Kurt's face—his eyes were closed, but Blaine didn't think he was sleeping.

“Sweetheart?” he tried, and Kurt whined in response.  “The food is here, baby; I need to go get it.  I'll be back soon, okay?”  Kurt squirmed and rolled over, pulling a stray pillow into his body and twining himself around it.  Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Blaine pulled a blanket over him and took a moment to right his own clothing before heading to the door.

The delivery woman was gone quickly, blatantly pleased with the sizeable tip Blaine left as well as his charming smile, and Blaine dumped the food on the counter before making a beeline back to Kurt.

“Hey baby,” he greeted, and Kurt's eyes blinked open slowly.  Blaine smiled at the sight.  “Come here,” he beckoned, sitting on the edge of the bed.  Kurt scooted over until his head was resting on Blaine's lap, humming a little sigh as Blaine's fingers worked through his hair.  “Our food is here, if you're hungry.

“Mmm starving,” Kurt said, sounding as though he were waking from a heavy sleep.

“I can bring it in here, if you like,” Blaine suggested, half-teasing.  Kurt had strict rules about eating in bed—strict enough that Blaine had come close to being castrated the second week they'd moved in together after Kurt found some cookie crumbs he'd missed by his pillow.

But now, Kurt surprised Blaine by peering up at him almost coyly, a small smile gracing his face.  “On a tray?  That would be lovely.”

Nudging Kurt to sit up, they kissed deeply as the brunette settled back against the headboard, Blaine grabbing a pillow to shield his head against the hard surface.  “Dinner in bed it is.  I'll be back soon.”

Blaine made quick work of putting together a tray, finding most of the things they would need in the takeout bag.  He considered including some flowers but decided against it—while Kurt would surely appreciate a decorative touch, now was not the time.

When he got back to their room Kurt was sitting just as he'd left him, smiling and leaning forward for a kiss as Blaine slid the tray onto his lap.

“Thank you, Blaine,” he said softly, pressing their foreheads together before the Dom could move away.

Climbing onto the bed, Blaine happily cuddled against his side and began ripping into their package of pita bread, luckily still warm.  “It's nothing,” he dismissed.  “Definitely worth it to see you smile again.”

They ate in silence, feeding each other with their hands and playfully nipping at fingers.  Blaine mentioned the baklava that he'd left on the counter after they finished, but they were both so full he was glad when Kurt decided they should save it for later.

“We should talk then,” he said somewhat reluctantly, moving the tray onto the nightstand.  “You need to tell me what happened today.”

Kurt eyes darkened, looking distant for a moment, but he nodded and began with a sigh.

“I told you about work, and then with Cassi.  There's not much more to say about that.  I think what… frustrated me the most is that it's not settled.  I hate making mistakes, but I'm mature enough to know that it happens, and I can take responsibility and face the consequences… but I was all ready and then nothing.  Nothing, Blaine!  And it's Friday and I'll have to wait till Monday to see her again… three days to have it hanging over my head!  And I just want so badly to be able to handle that on my own, because it's my fault, but… and then with Cassi, I know I'll get hell for missing that demonstration, but that will have to wait till Tuesday…”

His words finally trailed off, and Blaine allowed Kurt a moment to collect himself.  When his fiancé finally grew impatient enough to make eye contact again, Blaine asked him the question he was most concerned with.  “Why didn't you let me help you?  How could you think you didn't deserve my help?”

“I just… I…” he stopped, clearly floundering, and glared at Blaine before looking down at his hands.  “It was my fault?” Kurt repeated meekly.

“Of course it was your fault,” Blaine agreed without missing a beat, even as Kurt's eyes shot back up to his in surprise.  “You spilled the tea on that material; you were unable to make it to that demonstration—though we both know that Cassi was insane to expect that of anybody so last minute.  You also know what we agreed on, Kurt, and that's if you are having trouble—any trouble, self-perpetuated or not—you're to come to me for help.”

Kurt looked abashed.  “I'm sorry,” he said.                

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.  “You're sorry…”

“I'm sorry, Sir,” Kurt amended, his cheeks flushing prettily.

“You need to remember something, Kurt,” Blaine started, pulling Kurt's hands apart where they were tangled and threading his fingers with Blaine's own instead.   “You're not in charge here.  You don't get to decide what you deserve or when to be honest.   If you think you can't handle something, or that I might be able to help you in any way, you are to come to me and let me know that.”

Kurt nodded, his eyes growing misty, and squeezed Blaine's hand.

“I'm very disappointed that you lied to me, especially about needing help.  Had you been honest, the burn on your arm might not have happened.  You belong to me; you're my responsibility.  I can't stand it when you're hurt.  You're so precious to me, Kurt,” his voice broke with these words, losing the calm, dominant tone he so carefully strove to maintain, but he pushed ahead anyway.  “It makes me feel like a failure when things like this happen.”

Kurt gasped and pulled him close.  “You're not, Blaine.  Never.”

Blaine gratefully returned the embrace for a moment, loving the way his head fit perfectly into the curve of Kurt's neck, as it always had.  He inhaled deeply before moving away, bracing himself for what he had to ask next.

But Kurt spoke first. 

“Am I really that… precious, to you?” he asked softly, hand gentle on Blaine's face and eyes so innocent and unbelieving that Blaine laughed.

“Of course you are.  How can you even ask that, Kurt?  You're everything.  My precious one.”

“Precious One,” Kurt echoed, then blushed faintly and looked away.  “I think I like that.”

“It suits you,” Blaine said seriously.  “Perhaps I'll keep it.”

Kurt smiled, and Blaine reluctantly pressed on.

“About the lying.  I was wondering how you'd feel about me… that is, I think I should…”

“Punish me?” Kurt interrupted, all traces of shyness abruptly gone.  “You can say it, Blaine; it's okay.”

Blaine fidgeted nervously.  “It's just really new.  I don't want to push, or make you think that I want to hurt you… I could never want to hurt you, I…”

This time he was stopped by Kurt's finger against his lips, his expression amused.  “You're ranting,” he stated bluntly.  “And I know that, silly.  I know it's not about that, I know you, or I'd never let you… but I think it's better if you do.”

“You do,” Blaine echoed, staring blankly at Kurt's face.

His fiancé nodded.  “Consistency, you know.  And… it does help.”

“I do love helping you,” Blaine agreed.  “If you're sure…”

When Kurt nodded again, Blaine brightened, leaning in to kiss him and purposely fingering the band around his wrist.  “Well then, my dear,” he said between pecks.  “I suppose I have some thinking and planning to do.  You can go clean this up,” he gestured towards the tray, “and then wait for me in the living room.  On your knees.”

Kurt smiled his agreement, hurrying to grab the tray and leave the room as directed, but he paused at the door.  “Blaine?” he said, turning back to face him.

“Yes?”

“Don't allow your phone to die like that again, or it will be me who's punishing you.”

The final phrase was delivered with an all-too-familiar bite, and Blaine chuckled weakly, his half-hearted grin tapering off into a regretful frown when the words fully hit.  “Of course.  I'm so sorry, Kurt.  It's my responsibility to be there for you, and I fai—”

“Don't say it!” Kurt cut in sharply.

“That shouldn't have happened,” Blaine amended easily, “and I want you to know that barring truly extenuating circumstances, it won't again.”

“You did promise once to always answer your phone when I called…“

“I know, Kurt.  I really am sorry.”  His eyes implored the submissive to believe him.  There was no way Blaine could go into a punishment scene knowing how badly he had messed up himself.

Kurt padded softly over to the bed—Blaine's eyes following the graceful movement of his body helplessly in spite of current circumstances—and once again deposited the tray onto the nightstand.  Turning to Blaine, he kissed him soundly, deeply, the exhale of his breath hot and heavy against Blaine's face when he pulled away.  “I forgive you, Blaine,” Kurt whispered, and the words sank like a healing balm into Blaine's soul. 

“Thank you,” he replied softly, equally earnest.

Kurt's smile was gentler, more subdued as he slipped out of the room.

When he was gone Blaine sighed and slumped over, already exhausted but knowing he had to come up with something appropriate for the task ahead.  The prospect made him both anxious and, if he was honest (and maybe he wasn't ready to be)… a little excited as well.  Sometimes being a dominate was hard work.

His mind scanned through the events of the day—his own lack of foresight, Kurt's misfortunes at work and his ensuing panic, how he'd calmed and then come apart so flawlessly at Blaine's touch, the bizarre mix of sass and innocence, confidence and need he somehow maintained.

Blaine smiled to himself, warmth and love and awe settling deep within him, bringing with them the surety he sought.

It was always worth it.