Blaine Anderson is happily singing along to Teenage Dream, unaware of two piercing blue eyes that are following his moves from behind a fashion magazine. "Blaine, that table is dripping" Kurt's clear voice sounds over the music. Blaine looks up from his water and soap. "I'm cleaning, babe. It's supposed to get wet." He receives a snort from his boyfriend. "Yes, you're cleaning. Not teaching it how to swim."

Kurt gets up and moves to Blaine with a faked sigh of annoyance. "You're such a kid, Anderson. Did you never learn how to clean something properly?" He takes the sponge from Blaine's hands and squeezes the water out, so it can absorb some of the water that's spread out over the table. "Look, that's how you clean. You were drowning our furniture."

Blaine is still grinning sheepishly and he shrugs. "I like watching you clean." He replies. "So I'm getting off my lazy ass for once?" Blaine laughs. "Of course not, silly. You can sit on your ass. You're already working too hard at your new study. You deserve some rest." Kurt freezes as Blaine rubs his ass, teasingly.

"What's wrong, babe?" Kurt shakes his head. "Nothing, just didn't expect that." He smiles and Blaine smiles back. Then he wraps his arms around his boyfriend, who instantly goes rigid in his embrace.


"It's just- I- You're wet."

"It's water and soap."

"It could give stains on my clothes."

Kurt pushes him away and walks off towards their bedroom, while snatching his fashion magazine from the couch. "Where are you going?" Blaine asks, confused. "Bed, I have a headache." Kurt replies. "I'll have dinner ready in a bit!" Blaine calls towards the shut door. He doesn't get a reply.

Half an hour later, Blaine is knocking on the door. Kurt doesn't reply. The door is locked and there's a sound of a pen writing on paper when he presses his ear against the door. Maybe Kurt isn't hungry again. Blaine blames the stress he gets from school. Kurt was always locked up in their bedroom, going through fashion magazines and writing essays. He never imagined a study involving fashion would be that hard. Then again, Kurt was a perfectionist. Everything had to be checked over and over.

"Kurt? Baby? Dinner's ready. Could you please say something?"

There's a soft sound of sheets moving on the other side of the door. "I'm not hungry, Blaine."

"Have you eaten anything at all today?"

"Blaine, I'm not a kid, I can take care of myself."

"Have you, then? You seem to barely eat anything. You're getting thinner."

There's a short silence. "I ate while you were at the supermarket, Blaine. Don't worry, alright?"

"Kurt, we're communicating through our bedroom door again."

"I'm working, alright. You have dinner. I bet you made something delicious again."

Blaine smiles, because Kurt is just too sweet. He feels bad for doubting his boyfriend. Of course he can take care of himself. Kurt has been living alone with his father for years. He practically grew up without a mother. He was used to looking after himself.

Blaine presses his hand against the hard door. He doesn't know why, it just feels a bit closer to Kurt. "I'm sorry, baby. Just don't push yourself too hard on this study, alright? You're always busy with those essays. It feels like the others are letting you do all the hard work. I thought you were working in groups this period?"

"We're supposed to, but I seem to be the most driven in succeeding with this assignment and actually getting a perfect grade. Some of them are terribly lazy."

"Don't make it too late, alright?"

"Yes, dad."

Blaine sighs and removes his hand from the door. " I love you." He says, before returning to the kitchen for his fifth dinner alone this week. He hopes the assignment is done soon. At least Christmas is close. Kurt can really use a vacation.