Author's Note: my fish's name was sushi. but it died. so this is my tribute to my dead fish, sushi. rip, little dude. we love you. anyway, this really doesn't make sense and i don't know where it came from. however, it amuses me and hopefully it'll amuse you too! please review. even if you hate it.

Disclaimer: hi, i own nothing. except my dead fish.

Kurt Hummel struggles up the stairs of his apartment complex, grocery bags in his arms. He's holding onto one bag by his teeth, and that stupid little old lady down stairs still expected him to open the door for her. Kurt's not that good a person. He let that door slam in that bitch's face.

Kurt's in a bad mood.

He makes it to the floor—why did he and Blaine buy an apartment on the sixth floor? Oh, right, because Blaine thought the view was romantic. Well, screw him—and gently drops the bag filled with Blaine's little kid cereal to the floor. He reaches for his keys in his back pocket and almost drops the eggs. He stumbles back, and his foot hits the door. It creaks open. Kurt freezes. He moves closer, the Lucky Charms and Count Choculas lying forgotten by his feet.

"Blaine? Baby?" He calls softly, and he holds his key in between his pointer and middle fingers. Just in case he needs to stab someone's eye out. He pushes the door open and pauses, poking his head in. "Blaine. This isn't funny."

He makes his way through the doorway, dropping the groceries unceremoniously on the counter. He cringes as something cracks—crap, the eggs—and moves carefully towards the bedroom. Their loft is a piece of shit, to be completely honest, and when Kurt moved to New York he hadn't expected this. But they were on a budget because Blaine refused to use any of his parents' money, which Kurt could respect. To a point. They'd found this place, and Blaine had turned his big brown eyes on Kurt. They'd signed the lease on the spot.

Kurt stares at the living room/kitchen/dining room. They don't have much furniture, so there's virtually nowhere for a robber—oh god, what if it was a murderer?—to hide. Which leaves the bathroom and the bedroom. Kurt tries calling for Blaine one more time, and when that doesn't work, he squeaks and rushes towards the bathroom. It's like a scary movie, he thinks hysterically, and the murderer is hiding behind the shower curtain. (In his paranoia, Kurt forgets that their shower curtain is actually kind of see-through.) He slams the door open and wields his key dramatically.

The bathroom is empty.

"Oh," Kurt says, and if it seems like he's disappointed, well. He's not.

There's a splash of water from behind the tub. Kurt grabs his toothbrush off the counter and whips around, ready to throw it at anyone with a knife. He moves closer—and now he kind of realizes why those dumbass girls in the movies go to the murderer, this shit is exhilarating. He whips the curtain back and—

There's a goldfish in his tub. What the hell.

"BLAINE!" he yells. There's a thud from the bedroom and the padding of bare feet on hardwood floor, before a mop of curly hair appears in the doorway.

"Hi, babe!" Blaine says, beaming. Kurt raises an eyebrow.

"Blaine, sweetie. You know I love you," he says slowly, and Blaine nods enthusiastically. "But why the hell is there a goldfish in the tub?"

Blaine blinks. "His name is Sushi."

Kurt stares at him in disbelief. "You hate sushi."

"I don't hate this Sushi," Blaine says patiently. Kurt blinks once, twice.

"But why is it in the tub?"

"I don't have a bowl for him," Blaine says matter-of-factly.

"So you put him in our bathtub?"


Kurt seems to be having a hard time understanding this. Then again, Kurt has a hard time understanding half the things Blaine does. Instead, he says, "I thought there was a murderer in the house."

"No, just a fish."

"And I broke the eggs."

"I'll buy new ones."


Blaine pauses. "So can we keep him?"



"Oh. I don't know, Blaine, I—"

"Please, Kurt? Please? Please? I love you. Please?" Blaine whines, taking Kurt's hand in his and squeezing, "Look at his little face."

Kurt does. Sushi blows a bubble. Kurt frowns.

"Blaine, I—"

"Please, Kurt."

"I…fine," Kurt says, resigned. "But you're feeding it, and you better get it a goddamn bowl before it poops in the bathtub…"

He's cut off by Blaine hugging the hell out of him. Kurt gasps for breath, and Blaine kisses his cheek sloppily. Kurt's torn between laughing and frowning, because Blaine's strong for such a little guy. His bear hugs always leave Kurt's ribs hurting. Blaine nuzzles his face into Kurt's neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"You better," Kurt says grumpily, "Now go buy it a stupid bowl."

Blaine nods, and shoots out the door with another quick kiss. "Sushi and I thank you!" He yells as the door slams shut.

Kurt stands in the bathroom, silently wondering what the hell just happened. He stares at the fish swimming happily in his bathtub and says, "Blaine may not like Sushi, but I do. I eat it a lot. I like my fish dead and raw."

The fish blows another bubble at him and blinks. He swims in a complicated pattern. Kurt glares. That fish has no idea who he's dealing with.

Belatedly, he yells, "Don't forget the eggs!" and slumps onto the toilet seat.