“Come…come on…grr…just…get…in…the…hole! Dammit!”

Blaine fakes an unnecessary amount of focus in doing up his jacket while, out of the corner of his eye, he watches Kurt fumble with the buttons to his coat. He listens to Kurt grumble and curse, stopping to shake out his sore hand before giving it another unsuccessful go. It’s not that the buttons are too small or too stiff to manage. The navy discs have to be the size of quarters. And Kurt has had this coat forever. It’s one of his favorites, one of the few that doesn’t get weeded out during their yearly purge. The buttonholes have been stretched and softened by repeated use. But his fingers ache, his ability to pinch them closed around things like sewing needles, pencils, and buttons not as good as it used to be.

Blaine’s heart tugs in the direction of his husband, aching with every slip of the buttons from between Kurt’s fingertips. But he can’t jump to the rescue. Kurt may be frustrated with himself for his inability to button up his coat, but Blaine swooping in to save the day won’t help matters any.

Still, Blaine can’t stand it. He slows down closing his jacket, giving Kurt the chance to catch up. He waits until he sees Kurt shut his eyes in resignation before he says, “Why don’t I give you a hand with that, baby?”

“No…” Kurt’s eyes pop back open and he re-attacks his coat. “No, it’s fine, it’s just, I just…” He sighs. “I’ve got it.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says in that soothing voice he uses when he knows he’s coming up against Kurt’s pride and stubbornness, “it’s no big deal. I like helping you get dressed.” Blaine smirks, grabbing hold of Kurt’s coat and doing up the buttons with ease. “Though I’d rather be helping you undress…”

“Yeah, well, if you start down that road, we’ll never get out of here” - Kurt gently pushes his husband’s hands away and tries the buttons again for himself - “and our reservation is at seven.”

“We can always blow it off.” Blaine casually tries to seduce his husband’s hands away from the buttons, and possibly back out of his clothes.

“But you’ve wanted to eat at this restaurant for months,” Kurt replies, sounding more frustrated than turned on as he manages to wheedle his hands back underneath Blaine’s.

“I think I’d rather eat you instead…” Blaine persists, managing to regain the upper hand.

“We can do that later,” Kurt says, his tone clipped. “We’re meeting actual people. They’re expecting us. We’ve spent the last hour-and-a-half getting ready. I just…grrr…have to finish…mmph…with these stupid…buttons…”

“Well, I can do that for you.”

“It’s alright. I’ll do it.”

“Kurt, there’s no need…”

“Blaine, I’m almost at the last button.”

“…just let me help you and…”

“I said I’ll do it!”

Blaine lets go, his hands jerking back as if Kurt had slapped him. Kurt sighs as he watches worry fills his husband’s eyes. It wasn’t Blaine’s offer to help that got to Kurt, or his insistence after Kurt said no. It was watching Blaine breeze through the buttons like they’re nothing, because, for Blaine, they are nothing. It’s knowing that if they hop back to their bedroom to have sex that Blaine will undress him – not because it’s sexy, but because if Kurt does it, it’ll take him forever. Because little things like buttoning his shirt or zipping up his slacks aren’t as simple as they were five years ago.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, his hands dropping to his sides. “I don’t mean to snap, it’s just…when did I get so old, Blaine? I shouldn’t feel this old. I’m only forty.”

“You have arthritis,” Blaine says. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to a lot of people, even people younger than you.”

Kurt looks at his husband’s sympathetic face and frowns. “It didn’t happen to you.”

“I know,” Blaine says, feeling guilty for inheriting his family’s exceptional health. “But in your case it’s genetic.”

“The worst part is, in my head, I don’t feel old. I still feel sixteen. I feel like I’m back in high school. But every morning, I wake up more tired than I did when I went to bed. And everything hurts so much. Not just my hands, but my back and my hips. It takes me ten minutes to get out of bed, and by the time I make it to the kitchen table, I’m done for the day.”

“Well, in your defense, you do do a lot in a day. I think even teenaged you would be tired with the schedule you keep. I know that I get exhausted just hearing about it.” Blaine chuckles, hoping to alleviate some of Kurt’s tension, but it doesn’t work.

Kurt doesn’t answer. He hangs his head, fingers fussing with one of the unbuttoned buttons, contemplating if he wants to bother trying to button it or not.

“Look, Kurt” - Blaine takes his hands, trying to overlook how swollen his knuckles feel, knowing that they must be screaming with more pain than Kurt is letting on - “you had no control over this, alright? And I know you hate that. I know it frightens you. But you’re a strong man. You’re a young man.” Kurt huffs and turns his head, but Blaine doesn’t let that deter him. “You’re just as amazing…and wonderful…and sexy…” Blaine smiles from the memory of last night “…and flexible as you were at eighteen.”

Kurt bites his lips together and rolls his eyes, blushing the same way he used to when they first started dating, when they were both teenagers and, for Kurt, sex was a dirty word.

“So are you,” Kurt says, running a thumb over his husband’s knuckles, the one holding his left hand toying with Blaine’s wedding band. Kurt rolls his eyes again, this time in thought. “Maybe we can be a little late.”

“You think so?” Blaine asks, going back to Kurt’s buttons, undoing them with one hand while he undoes his own with the other. For a second, Blaine becomes afraid that Kurt will accuse him of showing off and rescind his offer, but from the way he has his eyes locked on to Blaine’s, licking his lips, it doesn’t seem like he cares much about the damn buttons any more.

“If you promise to help me get dressed again, maybe we can even be a lot late.”