There's a slam at the downstairs, outside door, followed by the stomping of feet up the stairs to their floor.

Kurt lifts his head from the magazine he's reading when he hears muttering and cursing outside the loft door, and a harried jingling as Blaine fumbles with his key ring to fit the right key into the lock. Blaine's been living there with Kurt for close to a year, if not a month or two more, but whenever he gets stressed out, he suddenly can't tell one key from another. Kurt would chuckle at how incredibly adorable Blaine sounds when he curses, the foul language crossing his lips more creative than crass, except that Kurt knows from where his tirade comes.

Tension at work has hit a head as testing days draw near, and with them, the annual tradition of school district administrators threatening Blaine's job. Of course, it's not only Blaine. It's teachers across the board, but especially the part timers. Kurt used to think that Blaine should know better by now, that this is just a tactic the school district uses to try and improve testing scores. Good test scores equal school funding, and no one wants to see any further budget cuts.

Blaine's been at this part time teaching gig for a while. A few teachers have been fired over the last few years, but Kurt doesn't really believe that Blaine's job is in any jeopardy. He's too good at what he does. The majority of his students really respond to him. He has an enthusiasm that's been lost among teachers over the years. And regardless of the school district's bitching and moaning, his classes' test scores tend to improve every year.

Not too shabby for a man that most other teachers refer to as a ‘glorified substitute'.

But Blaine's not confident under pressure, not all that good at confrontation, and sticking up for himself in the face of authority figures – not his strong point. With the added strain of being in a Broadway performance, his health is taking a hit. He doesn't eat as often as he should. He doesn't sleep much either. He has a hard time relaxing at night, and he's started having nightmares.

Blaine discussed these issues with Kurt, and Kurt helped Blaine brainstorm his options, but Blaine also expressed a desire to try and negotiate this on his own. Kurt doesn't like it, his need to step in and save his sub from himself overwhelming. But Kurt knows how important independence in this matter is to Blaine, so Kurt has given Blaine the space to come to a decision on his own.

But this outburst, soon to be a fit, might be the last straw.

For the sake of his sub's health and happiness, Kurt is going to have to intervene.

The door slides open, and Blaine's grumbling becomes clearer.

“…what does that have to do with me, Goddammit!?” he snaps, presumably at the door as he slams it shut. It's a heavy door, and doesn't slam in a satisfactory way, so Blaine throws down his bag to compensate.

“Rough day at work?” Kurt asks, crossing the loft to get to him, but Blaine mumbles over him, going on and on, as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the rack by the door, about sliding scales, curves, and core concepts.

“I don't know what they expect me to do.” Blaine runs hand after hand through his hair till his curls start to frizz.

“Blaine” – Kurt stops at the kitchen table, watching Blaine pace the entryway, arguing with his shoes – “honey…”

“I mean, I can't make them learn if they don't want to learn…”

The hands carding through his curls start pulling, and Kurt becomes concerned. No one's a stranger to hair pulling in their loft, but what Blaine's doing to himself…even Kurt has to admit that it looks painful.

“Blaine…”

“I can't make them do their homework…”

“Blaine…” Kurt puts emphasis on his sub's name, hoping that his voice can break through whatever debate he's having with the voice in his head.

“I'm not going to go to their house…”

“Pet.” Kurt says it calmly but firmly. Most of the time it does the trick. This time it doesn't.

“…and put a pencil in their hands. If they fail that damn test, it's not my fault. It's really not my fault.”

Blaine stops muttering and takes a few breaths in – hard, heaving breaths - to stop frustrated tears in his eyes from running down his cheeks. Kurt's seen this, the onset of a panic attack. If he can't get Blaine's attention, his sub is going to fall apart.

“Blaine,” Kurt says sternly, stepping into Blaine's personal space, his body blocking his way and demanding his attention. “Reset.”

This time Blaine hears him, the single word bursting through the haze of his anxiety, and Blaine comprehends. It's like a flipping switch the way Blaine responds, as if, of all the things surrounding them, inside his head and outside his body, that one word can reboot his brain.

Blaine drops to his knees at Kurt's feet.

“Stretch out,” Kurt says, and Blaine does, bowing low to the floor, arms outstretched, facing the ground. This position, child's pose, forces Blaine to slow his breathing, and calms him down.

Kurt stands beside him and lets Blaine breathe before he tries to command him again. Kurt counts Blaine's breaths until he reaches ten, then kneels down beside him, putting a hand to his back and stroking down his spine.

“How do you feel now, pet?” Kurt asks, stroking back up again, working at the knots he finds in the muscles along the way.

“Better,” Blaine says. It's almost a mumble, but not quite, more centered and focused than his muttering had been when he first got home. “Thank you, Sir.” Blaine blows out a long breath, stretching out a farther.

“Okay,” Kurt says, keeping his voice firm but soothing, “I'm going to keep you here a little while longer. Then, you're going to take a shower. You're going to change out of your work clothes and into your pajamas. Then we're going to sit down together, and go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning, Sir?” Blaine asks, still facing the floor. “The beginning of what? Of my day, Sir?”

“Further than that,” Kurt says, running his hand down Blaine's spine again, feeling more of his tension melt away. “We need to travel back to when we talked about you giving up this teaching job.” Kurt feels Blaine's back tighten all over again. So Kurt goes over the knots again, loosening them up one more time. “I know you have concerns, and you have a commendable sense of responsibility and obligation. But you can't go on like this much longer. Not for your health. It's not worth it. Do you agree, pet?”

Blaine stays quiet for a second. He knows he has that luxury. Kurt hasn't asked him for an immediate answer, so he steals a moment to think. He enjoys teaching, and he's always liked the idea of making a difference in the lives of kids, shaping and molding the minds of the future. But the luster wore off a long time ago, after politics and educational quotas became the norm. But the truth is that teaching was never his dream. Being on Broadway was. When he first started teaching, it was a safety net. He'd come to New York to pursue acting. But when he stepped off the train, when he got his first glimpse of Grand Central Station and Manhattan, when he saw the enormity of it all first hand, doubts and fears and insecurities surfaced that he hadn't banked on having.

And so, without even stepping foot into a theater, he took the subway straight to the school district offices and applied for a teaching job, which he got pretty much on the spot. He woke up each morning in his smaller than small apartment, and rode the subway into the city, reading Variety! on his commute over coffee and a bagel, trying to find the courage to attend a cattle call.

Months later, he finally did. He took that step, and on his own, which he'd forever be proud of. He didn't get a part his first time…or his third…or his eighth, but he plugged on. He went to audition after audition, learning a little something new from each one, but especially how to handle rejection.

Finally, he got his break, singing in the chorus of a West Side Story revival, playing “hooligan number four”. But that part led to another chorus part, then bigger chorus parts - characters with actual names, single-line speaking roles, and now, he had a lead.

He thought that juggling acting and his day job would be a challenge, but doable. He felt that it was important to keep teaching. The school district seemed lenient at the beginning, giving him the time off that he needed for daytime rehearsals (since he had vacation time saved up that he hadn't used). But not anymore.

His job as a part time teacher does more at this point to raise his blood pressure than it does to pay his bills or give him any sense of fulfillment.

He'd come to this realization a while ago, but only at this moment, with his Dom helping him handle this recent break down, did he finally see it clearly.

“So, what do you say, pet?” Kurt repeats, letting Blaine know his time is up. “Do you agree that things need to change?”

“Yes, Sir,” Blaine says, those words bringing him immediate relief the way submitting to Kurt always does. “I do.”