Even though he had admittedly come home exceptionally late from his date with Kurt, Blaine thought it was somewhat excessive for his parents to confine him to his room for two days straight. Was it really his fault that there had been an overbooking issue at the box office, thereby delaying the start of the eight-o-clock opening night of Chicago?
The trivial fact that the overbooking issue had only lasted fifteen minutes, and that he and Kurt had spent two hours kissing goodnight was something Blaine had conveniently left out of the story he told his parents.
And so this is how Blaine came to be curled up in his bed at seven-o-clock on Saturday morning, allowing the bright sunlight filtering through the window to wake his sleepy eyes.
He had just about convinced himself to fall back to sleep when he heard a tapping at the window.
Blaine nearly had a heart attack upon seeing Kurt's angelic face, framed by the morning sun's rays, peering at him through the glass.
Blaine scrambled to pull the shirt beside his bed over his head before untangling from the covers and stumbling to quietly raise up the window.
"Kurt," he hissed, but was unable to hide the grin playing at his lips. "What the hell are you doing?"
Blaine noticed Kurt was balancing on the ivy-covered trellis, gripping the window sill for support. He grasped his boyfriend's hands firmly for good measure.
Kurt shrugged his thin shoulders. "I figured that if they were imprisoning you like a criminal they were probably feeding you like one, too." He raised a delicate eyebrow, smirking as he jerked his head toward the satchel on his shoulder.
"You're a life-saver," Blaine sighed, climbing onto the bed to sit cross-legged. He patted the spot directly across him welcomingly. "I thought I would perish of claustrophobia, if not boredom first."
Kurt happily obliged, facing Blaine and mimicking his position. "How much time do we have?"
"My parents will wake up in about two hours," Blaine beamed. "What's for breakfast?"
"Me," Kurt said without hesitation, and grabbed Blaine's shirt to pull him in for a piping hot kiss.
Blaine made a satisfied noise as Kurt's minty tongue eased into his mouth. He nestled his fingers into Kurt's feather-soft hair, listening to their intertwining breathing, the smack of their lips, the birds chirping outside the open window.
"Mmmm," Blaine licked his lips as they drew apart. "Delicious. Can I have you for lunch and dinner, too?"
"Don't forget dessert," Kurt smiled enticingly. Blaine eagerly leaned in for more but Kurt put a finger to his lips.
"Nourishment first," he said seriously. "Contrary to popular belief, my boyfriend is not a prisoner and will not be fed as such."
There was content silence as Kurt began to remove the bag's content's, laying tupperware containers on the duvet between them. "I think the real reason your parents grounded you so harshly," he said as he opened the containers to reveal bacon, eggs, and fruit salad, "was because they still haven't come to terms with the fact that their son has a boyfriend."
He flicked his ocean eyes cautiously up at Blaine before unscrewing a canteen of orange juice.
Blaine took the hand of Kurt's that was not rummaging for utensils. "I know that's the reason," he said, smiling weakly. "They'll come around eventually," he promised, giving Kurt's hand a comforting squeeze. Kurt smiled a little, hopefully, and gestured to the completed display of food.
Blaine gazed hungrily at the meal set before them, inhaling the scent of Kurt's home-cooked talent.
"I don't see any dessert here," he teased, looking at Kurt from beneath dark lashes.
Kurt shot him an equally coquettish smile. "Oh, you'll get your dessert. but only if you finish your bacon."
Laughter mingled with sounds of the morning as the boys tucked into a breakfast for two.