I was talking with trufflemores about how much we wanted Nightbird in New York to happen, and then I accidentally 1200+ words.

Kurt's sure it's not the weirdest thing he's ever seen, especially after being in New York for a year. That busker down by Central Park with the balloon hat and the accordion might still take the top prize. What he's seeing right now, though, may just take the second place spot.

"Blaine? What's this?" he calls out, making Blaine walk back in from the living room where he was putting out his DVDs to their (their!) bedroom.

"That? That, uh, do you really want to know?" Blaine replies sheepishly, dragging a hand over his hair as if it was possible to smooth it down even more.

"Yes, Blaine! Did you take up field hockey or something last year? That's really not that embarrassing, honey," Kurt says while holding up the black chest protector he found in Blaine's 'assorted clothing' box. "It's not the sexiest of sports, true, but it's better than Quidditch."

"It's not for sports, Kurt. It's for...saving the world?" Blaine phrases his statement like a question, which only confuses Kurt even more.

"What do you mean, 'saving the world'? Did you run into the nuclear power plant on the way out of Lima? I'm pretty sure Isabelle knows who I could call to get you an anti-radiation shower if we need to, B, don't try to-" Kurt gets cut off by Blaine kissing him. They'd figured out long ago that the easiest way to get Kurt to stop nervous rambling was to occupy his mouth with something else.

"No, baby, I promise I'm not suddenly turning into a mutant. It's my Nightbird costume. Remember how I mentioned the Secret Society of Superheroes?" The lightbulb clicked on in Kurt's brain as he dimly remembered Blaine mentioning all the clubs he joined and some weird text from Tina that she had signed "Asian Persuasion" last winter.

"Oh. Oh! Right, now I remember. Is that why Tina was interrogating me about our break-up last winter?"

"I swear I told her not to do that!" Blaine's look of panic made Kurt giggle.

"I believe you, B, don't pop a blood vessel," he said, bending down to kiss Blaine on the nose lightly before continuing. "But why did you bring the costume here?"

"I dunno, nostalgia? To be prepared in case I get offered a role in Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark?" Blaine offered as he grabbed all the pieces of his costume – cape, gloves, utility belt, and chest protector – and hung them up in the back of the closet.

"Does that mean I'm the Gwen Stacy to your Peter Parker?" Kurt teased, breaking down the now-empty box and leading Blaine out of the bedroom to go put it in the recycling.

"Spiderman doesn't wear black, Kurt."

"Semantics. Now pipe down and kiss me, Anderson."

It had been about two months since Blaine had moved in with Kurt and the girls in Bushwick, and they had settled into a nice domestic routine. Rachel had a night class on "Theatre Below the Stars" this semester, and Santana was either working the dinner shift at her jobs or on a date with a girl she'd met in her dance class almost every night, so generally neither girl was home to eat dinner with Kurt and Blaine. The boys weren't too upset with this arrangement, unsurprisingly. They had worked out an alternating schedule of making dinner versus setting the table and cleaning the dishes, and on this Wednesday night, it was Kurt's turn to cook.

He had just pulled his lasagna out of the oven when he turned and noticed a rather large wasp on the big kitchen windowpanes. His breathing immediately became strained.

Just stay calm, Kurt, he told himself. If it doesn't see you, it won't sting you. Just back away slowly.

Kurt had been afraid of wasps ever since he was six and got four stings at once after accidentally walking on top of a nest on his way to the swing set at school. The shock of those stings had made him develop an allergy, so he was always very careful to avoid wasps whenever he was away from his EpiPen.

God, why did I leave my EpiPen buried under all that crap in my jewelry organizer? Now I'm destined to die swollen and smelling of basil.

Kurt had backed up all the way to the kitchen table. He slowly set down the lasagna on the waiting trivet and reached up to unknot the scarf he had accessorized with that morning. He was upset that he'd have to sacrifice the pretty red and gray checked pattern to wasp guts, but he'd be more upset about dying. Just as he got it off his neck, he heard the apartment door slide open.

"Baby, I'm home! God did I feel weird taking the subway home today. One little boy asked if I was from Asgard, can you believe-" Blaine's voice floated through the apartment as he walked toward the kitchen, where Kurt promptly clapped a hand over his mouth once he was close enough.

"Quiet, Blaine!" Kurt hissed out, trying to swallow a whimper.

Blaine pulled Kurt's hand off his mouth. "What's wrong? Has someone broken in?" He rummaged in his utility belt for the Swiss Army knife he'd stashed in there this morning. Normally he wouldn't be so well prepared, but today for his Intro to Characterization class they were told to come in costume and the easiest thing for him to assemble was his Nightbird gear.

"No, there's- there's a wasp in the window," Kurt whispered, unable to stop his whimper in the middle that time. "I was about to kill it with my scarf when you walked in and made a racket."

"You're not getting anywhere near that thing, Kurt. Remember the last time you thought you could get close to a wasp? We ended up in the ER for six hours! I've got this," Blaine said as he pulled out a chair for Kurt and pushed him to sit. He then dug through the pockets of his belt some more to find the packet of tissues he kept in there at all time. Once he got one free, he crept closer to the window, cape billowing out a bit behind him thanks to the overhead air vents. Moving quickly and smoothly, he struck, squishing the wasp in his gloved hand and throwing the tissue/guts mess into the trash can below the sink. "There. Problem solved."

Kurt reached out for Blaine to walk back over to him, standing up and wrapping him in a hug once he got there. "I guess I should thank you for bringing this costume to New York after all, Nightbird," he said with a grin.

"That? That was nothing," Blaine returned Kurt's smile with one of his trademark big, sparkly grins. "Just wait until I rescue a kitten from a tree or a baby from a burning building."

"My hero!" Kurt faked an overdramatic swoon, laughing once Blaine pulled him out of it.

"Anything to impress the boys," Blaine said, goofily lascivious.

"There's only one boy you need to be impressing, Mr. Nightbird, and he's already thoroughly charmed."

"Then I guess my work here is done. Nightbird, away!" Blaine called, somehow managing to scoop Kurt up in his arms and run toward the bedroom to change before dinner got too cold, both of them giggling the rest of the way.