When Blaine was finally able to jimmy the lock and shoulder the open to their apartment, he was met with Kurt on the other side, a wide smile on his face, a glass of red wine in his hand and clothed in the his half-a-size-too-small McQueen jeans. He paused, eyebrow raised.

This had only happened to Blaine three times in the whole time that he knew Kurt. The first was when Kurt had somehow accidentally flushed a whole tube of his gel down the toilet (“really Blaine, I was only holding it and it just... Came out.”) The second was when he’d stepped on Blaine’s vintage record of Saturday Night Fever. (“But I was dancing to P!nk Blaine! You love her!”) The third time, maybe about a year ago, was when somehow a tear had appeared length-wise down the back of his Lazy Sunday shirt that Kurt hated. (“Now I know why my dad always said not to run with scissors.”)

“What’d you do?” Blaine asked, warily accepting the glass. He let Kurt pull him into the apartment. 

“What makes you think I did anything?” Kurt’s voice was airy and nonchalant, but it was reaching a pitch that usually Blaine associated with nerves or intense pleasure. 

Blaine’s eyes travelled low on Kurt’s body. “Jeans,” he said simply. Not that he was complaining or anything. 

Kurt turned to face him, looking affronted. “What, a man can’t wear a pair of jeans without becoming a suspect of something?”

Blaine chose not to answer, instead sipping on his drink. He levelled his gaze, waiting Kurt out. First, Kurt would wring his hands, the smile on his face plastered on. Blaine attributed this to his husbands acting skills. But slowly and surely, the grin began to slip and finally Kurt hung his head and sighed. “I redecorated.”

Blaine blinked. This, he hadn’t been expecting. Scratched the car, sure. Took in a stray cat, maybe. But why would Kurt feel guilty about redecorating? “I see,” he responded, voice even. “What did you do?”

Kurt waved a flippant hand. “I may have altered the accessories in the master room where we spend most of our time.”

“So, you redecorated the bedroom.”

“Basically.”

Blaine put his wine down on the dining table. “May I see it?”

Kurt bit him lip, apprehension rolling off of him in waves. Blaine could almost feel them hit him and he grinned. Nervous Kurt was hilarious. “I –– yeah. Yes, of course, you can.”

Blaine glanced towards the bedroom, where the door was closed. “Is this going to require a blindfold or what?” He reached out to take Kurt’s hand, but let his husband lead him to the room. 

“No, no.” Kurt stopped at the closed door. “Just deep breaths, okay?”

Eyes widening, Blaine felt his breath stop in his throat. “Kurt, what did you do?” Sudden visions of a hole in the wall, or a room filled with Gaga posters, or God forbid, a water bed passed through his mind. He could feel his heart thud-thud and really, he thought, this shouldn’t be frightening. This should be adorable.

Kurt’s hands, placating, came to rest on his chest. “No, okay, it’s not that bad. I’m just worried.”

Blaine placed his hands over Kurt’s, taking in his reddened cheeks, his shallow breaths. “Don’t be, okay?” Blaine leaned closer, brushing his nose against Kurt’s. “I love you. Now,” he turned Kurt, leaving his hands on his waist, “lead on.”

Kurt placed a long-fingered grip on the door handle, turning it gently and then pushing the door open in front of him. He shuffled in and Blaine crowded in behind him, still attached. He surveyed the room, taking in their cream coloured walls and red stripe that ran across them (“because, Blaine, red will make it cozy and minimising it to the stripe will keep it from being claustrophic). The lampshades were the same red which always threw the light into cool shadows when it was dark outside. 

Blaine followed the walls, trying to find what ever Kurt had done. Finally, he saw it and groaned, dropping his head on to Kurt’s shoulder. “Really Kurt? Throw pillows?”

Kurt’s hands fluttered around his, resting for a moment before leaving to gesticulate. “Look, I know you don’t like them in general, but you don’t understand the temptation, Blaine ––”

“Oh, I’m quite familiar with the concept of temptation,” Blaine interrupted, running a thumb over the waistband of Kurt’s a-little-tight-still-fits jeans. 

“–– and I was walking through Sheets ‘N Things,” Kurt continued, walking towards the bed and ignoring Blaine’s reaching hands, “because I was looking for a soap dish. I mean, you know how much I hate not having one because leaving the bar on the counter is not only messy, but I feel like it’s really unhygienic.”

“Kurt ––”

“And just perchance, really, it was more like happenstance that I wandered down the wrong aisle and found these!” Kurt threw his arms out wide to encompass the mass of pillows that now sat on the bed in a flattened pyramid. They were a deep red, and even Blaine had to admit that they matched the walls quite well. Kurt turned to Blaine, arms clasped in front of him. His fingers threaded and unthreaded themselves and his eyes were focussed somewhere above Blaine’s right shoulder. “So what do you think?”

Blaine left a small smile slip even as he eyed the pillows. It’s not that Blaine didn’t like them. It just that he didn’t really understand them. Why would you put pillows on your bed during the day and then take them off when you sleep? Isn’t the sole purpose of pillows to sleep on them? Blaine didn’t even like making the bed. It was just going to get messed up anyway. But Kurt made the bed like clock-work after his morning moisturising routine. 

Kurt’s eyes began to widen and Blaine realized that he had paused for to long. He reached forward, grasping Kurt’s hands in his own. “Kurt, if you like them, we can keep them.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Kurt rolled onto his toes, bouncing, trying to suppress a squeal behind closed lips. He pitched forward, pressing his lips to Blaine’s. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Kurt pulled him to the bed, pointing to the different pillows and mentioning how one design complemented the other and please Blaine, memorize this because this is perfectly balanced with the rug, okay?

Blaine sat down on the bed, smoothing out the creases that his knee created. His hand followed the blanket and ended at the first pillow, nestled in the center of another six. It was the smallest of them all, the dark red offset by cream embroidery and tassels. Blaine really had to commend on sticking to the colour scheme. “Which one is this again?” he asked, picking it up and tossing it. 

Kurt sat opposite him on the bed, leaning on one hand. “That is the center pillow Blaine, because it is the smallest of the tasselled pillows. You’ll noticed that the middle line is not tasselled, which allowed the back layer to have tassels so that the overall effect is not too powerful.”

Blaine nodded, considering the pillow in his hands. “Yeah, I see that. That’s really cool, Kurt.”

Kurt rested his head on Blaine’s knee, stretching out across the bed. “So you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah, I mean, they can prove to be pretty useful.”

“No, Blaine, no,” Kurt said, laying a hand forcefully on Blaine’s leg. “You’re not supposed to sleep on these, okay?”

“No, I know. I just meant..., you know ––” Blaine lifted the pillow over his head and brought it crashing on to Kurt’s chest. 

“Blaine Anderson-Hummel. Did you just hit me with that pillow?”

“Maybe,” he said, as he brought it down again. 

Kurt sat up straight, grabbing one of the largest tasselled pillows. He jumped off the bed and held it in front of him like a shield. “You don’t want to do this Blaine.”

Blaine leaped up, keeping the bed between him and his husband. He reached over and grabbed a medium-sized pillow. “Don’t I?” he challenged, lip curling in a smirk. He jumped on the bed, intending to tower over Kurt.

“Oh I see your high-school tendencies of furniture hopping are making a reappearance,” Kurt said dryly before grasping his pillow with both hands. “Let me help you with that.” Kurt swung the pillow at Blaine’s legs, knocking them from under him and landing him heavily on the bed. 

“You’re going to get it now,” Blaine said, rolling over towards him. He hopped off, advancing on Kurt, waving the two pillows in front of him like helicopter blades. 

Kurt started to back away, getting closer and closer to the door. “Now Blaine, before you do anything, this vest is Prada, so just... think.”

Blaine lowered his arms, pretending to pause to think. “Well, Kurt, now that you say that...”

“Really?” Kurt said, lowering the pillow from in front his face, a smile starting to spread.

Blaine shook his head. “Nope! Better run!”