Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

Blaine jostled his knee up and down, hands knotted tightly in his lap. Without looking up from his People magazine from 2004, Kurt reached over and patted his thigh. "You're going to be fine," he reassured him. "Plenty of people get root canals."

Blaine said nothing, and his incessant leg-jiggling continued steadily. Kurt sighed and flipped a page.

A nice motherly looking hygienist in lavender scrubs opened the door. "Blaine?" she called.

Blaine continued to jiggle his leg, staring straight ahead. "Blaine," Kurt said, squeezing his arm. "Darling, that's you."

"Oh," Blaine said, jumping to his feet and nearly tripping over his shoes. "Oh. Okay." He started towards the door and paused. "Aren't…aren't you coming with me?"

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Do you need me back there?" he asked.

"I would really appreciate it," Blaine said. "If…if you don't mind."

"I don't," Kurt said, setting the magazine aside and following him into the back. The family dentist's office was a nice cheerful place, painted in bright colors and decorated in cartoon posters about dental hygiene. Blaine did not seem comforted.

The nurse led them to an examination room. "All right, sweetie, lie down and the dentist will be here in just a minute," she said. "Oh, good, you brought someone with you."

Kurt frowned as she left. "Wait. Why is it good you brought someone?" he asked.

Blaine gingerly sat down in the reclining chair, already gripping the armrests. "I sort of have a…reputation at the dentist's," he admitted.

"What kind of reputation?" Kurt asked warily, leaning over him.

"Freaking out and biting people's hands?" Blaine ventured.

Kurt laughed. "Blaine, no one like the dentist when they're little, it's just…" His voice trailed off. "You did this recently, did you?"

Blaine closed his eyes tightly. "I don't like the dentist," he said. "It hurts. They hold my mouth open too far, and I can't swallow, and they keep sticking their hands on my teeth."

"You don't mind it when it's my tongue on your teeth," Kurt said slyly, leaning further to nibble on Blaine's ear.

Blaine folded his hands over his stomach. "Your tongue is different," he said primly. "Your tongue doesn't push too hard or have sharp fingernails or taste like rubber gloves."

"True," Kurt admitted.

The door to the examination room swept open. "All right, Blaine, let's get this started," the doctor said briskly, rifling through Blaine's paperwork before setting it aside. "Now, I know this procedure is rather uncomfortable, but try not to bite anyone this time, all right?"

Blaine looked up at Kurt with an expression that said see? I will never live this down. Kurt sat down beside him and patted his hand sympathetically.

Honestly, Kurt wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but he didn't expect Blaine to grab his hand the second that the assistant flipped on the overhead light. And he didn't expect Blaine to close his eyes so tightly when they got out the tray of shining silver instruments. And he definitely didn't expect Blaine to clamp down on his hand when the first syringe of Novocain emerged.

"Hey," Kurt whispered, scooting closer. "Hey, it's okay. You're fine."

The dentist picked up the syringe. "All right, Blaine, open your mouth," he said. "This'll sting a little."

Blaine kept his eyes closed. Kurt squeezed his hand. "It's okay," he murmured into Blaine's ear, stroking his dark curls off his forehead. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here."

He felt Blaine tense up as the tip of the needle touched his gums. "It's okay," Kurt repeated. A few stray tears squeezed out. "Oh, god. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Don't cry. You are not allowed to cry, Blaine Anderson. Understand me? No crying."

"There," the dentist said, satisfied, as he drew back with the empty syringe in hand. "Excellent. Good job, Blaine. We'll give that a moment to take, and then we'll start the procedure."

Kurt touched his forehead to Blaine's. "You're fine," he cooed. "I'm right here. You're going to be fine, okay? You'll be fine."

The next hour was most likely the longest in Kurt's life. He had never realized that watching his boyfriend cry silently through a root canal could possibly make his heart hurt so badly or tire him out so completely, and yet it did. Kurt tried not to look at the dentist as he worked over Blaine's mouth, choosing instead to tuck his chin against Blaine's shoulder and whisper a steady stream of comforting nonsense interspersed with light kisses to his cheek.

"All right, Blaine, you're all done," the dentist said jovially. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He patted Blaine on the shoulder. "I'll make sure your files are in order and you'll be on your way home in no time."

Blaine let out a slow, shuddering breath as the dentist left, cracking his eyes open. "My mouf hurts," he mumbled around the gauze.

"I know," Kurt said, nuzzling his cheek. "I know. But you did good." He took a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbed it at Blaine's damp eyes. "And now I will take you home, and we'll watch movies, and I'll make you something to eat that won't hurt. All right? How does that sound?"

"Pu'ing?" Blaine asked hopefully.

"Yes, darling, I will make you all the pudding your heart desires," Kurt reassured him, smoothing his curls with a fond smile.

"Bu's'otch?"

"…what?"

"Bu'ers'otch?"

"Honey, I can't-"

"Budders'otch."

"Oh. Oh!" Kurt laughed. "Yes. Yes, you can have butterscotch pudding." He squeezed Blaine's hand tightly. "I would kiss you, but I don't think it would go well."

Blaine flashed him a crooked half-numb smile, tired but relieved.

Author's Notes:

Poor Blainers. :(

Related: butterscotch pudding is the only kind I will eat.