“Okay,” Blaine says, excitedly taking a seat beside his husband on a weathered wood bench on the pier, looking out over the ocean, “I got my crab, I got my butter, you've got your crab, and…” Blaine peeks over at his husband's lap, expecting to see Kurt preparing to dig in to his lunch.

Kurt has his crab alright, but it's not exactly about to become lunch. Blaine's eyes flick to the crustacean in Kurt's hands, pinched cautiously between his husband's fingers as the creature waves its claws in the air.

“Uh, Kurt” – Blaine gestures to Kurt's Dungeness – “your crab seems a little…undercooked.”

“Well” – Kurt holds the primitive little beast a bit further away when it begins to snap at the air – “that's because I had to hold him for a second while the guy at the crab station fixed his steamer.”

Blaine nods. “And…” he says, needing more explanation than that.

Kurt looks down at the crab, then back at his husband. “I named him Petey.”

Blaine snickers. “Well, if you go back to the stand where you bought…uh…Petey, I'm sure they'll cook him for you.”

“Blaine!” Kurt gasps, even as he side-eyes his new companion with minor disgust. “I can't let them cook Petey!”

“Why not?” Blaine asks.

“Because I named him,” Kurt explains. “We've bonded. He trusts me.”

Blaine tries hard not to laugh, but when it's obvious he's going to start, Kurt pleads his case.

“I watched them put the other crabs in the steamer thing,” Kurt says, “and I swear they were screaming.”

“That's not them screaming,” Blaine chuckles. “That's just the steam escaping from their shells.”

Kurt grimaces, scooting Petey away from his barbaric husband. “Like that makes it any better.”

“Look,” Blaine says, glancing subconsciously down at his own lunch cooling in his lap, his mouth watering, “having Dungeness on the pier is part of the San Francisco experience.”

“And I have a Dungeness,” Kurt argues. “He's right here.”

“Well, then, what do you want to do with Petey? I mean, you paid, like, thirteen bucks for him, and I'm not too sure he's going to be welcome back at our hotel.”

Kurt shrugs. “I figure I can just put him back in the ocean.”

“You do realize they'll probably just catch him again tomorrow.”

Kurt huffs. “You can't let me have this one victory, can you?”

“Oh, sweetheart” – Blaine puts a hand to Kurt's shoulder – “I would never deny you a victory.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, smiling at his husband's show of support.

“And I'll be more than happy to help you…once I finish eating my crab.”

“Blaine!”

“Kurt!” Blaine whines. “The experience! And besides” – Blaine can't stand it anymore, grabbing a claw and breaking it open with a loud crack! that makes Kurt cringe – “it's yummy.”

“Ugh” – Kurt stands, carefully carrying his crab toward the water – “well, you enjoy your experience while I go say goodbye to Petey.”

Ten minutes later…

Blaine has picked pretty much every surface of his crab clean of meat when a solemn Kurt returns from his stroll down the pier.

“So, how did it go?” Blaine asks, tearing open a wet nap and wiping his hands.

“Meh,” Kurt says, eyes trained on the horizon, “sea lions got him.”

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine says, trying to sound sympathetic when all he wants to do is double over with laughter, “I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, next time I'll learn not to get too attached to my meal.”

Blaine nods in agreement, biting his tongue hard and clearing the laughter from his throat with a cough. “What do you want to do now?”

“I still need to eat,” Kurt says, wrapping his arms around his stomach when it starts to agree. “So let's go grab me a nice anonymous sandwich, and then we can go shopping.”

“So, no tuna fish named Troy?” Blaine teases, standing up and tossing out his lunch trash.

“Blaine…”

“Or a salmon named Sally? A calamari named Chris?”

“One more, Blaine, and the sea lions will be gnawing on you next.”