A/N: Inspired by the Klaine Drabble Prompt 'dessert'.

"Kurt," Sebastian says with a satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with his napkin, "that was definitely your best Calcutta Lobster yet."

"Do you think so?" Kurt asks, turning from the kitchen sink to smile at his husband who is sitting back in his chair, undoing the top button on his jeans.

"Definitely," Sebastian answers, rubbing his slightly larger tummy. "I think that's absolutely how you should make it from now on till forever."

Kurt laughs.

"Well, I hope that unbuttoning your jeans doesn't mean that you have no room for dessert."

"Oh, babe," Sebastian says, struggling to sit up in his chair, "you underestimate me. There's always room for dessert."

"That's what I was hoping to hear," Kurt says, walking back to the dinner table with a plate in each hand, "because I made this special."

Sebastian's eyes light up in anticipation as Kurt approaches with his dish. Kurt places the plate in front of him and Sebastian looks down at it, fork in hand, preparing to dig in. His fork comes to a dead stop inches from his dessert, the grin of excitement immediately sliding off his face when he sees what Kurt has served. Sitting in front of Sebastian is a plate of pale goop. Correction – pale goop with some sort of orange-ish slime slathered over the top. Sebastian leans forward a bit and sniffs it. He sits up and sticks his fork in it, watching as the goop wiggles unappetizingly the moment it is impaled. He stabs it again, and again, and again, the final stab cleaving a sliver from the top, which slides along with the slime sluggishly to the rim of the plate.

Kurt clears his throat from across the table, but Sebastian doesn't lift his eyes.

"Are you going to eat it?" Kurt asks, his tone annoyed but also hurt.

"What is it?" Sebastian asks, picking at the sliver with the tines of his fork. He tries to pick the piece up to examine it, but it only breaks in two. Great, he thinks. It's multiplying.

"It's flan," Kurt answers, breaking off a piece and eating it. Sebastian watches the oozing dessert pass through his husband's lips and tries not to hurl.

"Are you sure?" Sebastian asks, dropping his eyes back to his plate. "Because it looks like snot."

Kurt puts his fork down on his plate with a loud clank, his jaw locked, his eyes focused on Sebastian like a laser, but Sebastian continues to play with his gelatinous dessert while Kurt quietly seethes.

"You know," Kurt says, watching Sebastian's dessert go from a perfectly formed flat plateau to a sticky, lumpy mess, "this isn't an easy dessert to make. It took a long time to get it right. Can't you just give it a try and stop acting like a child?" Sebastian doesn't answer, continuing to make a bigger mess of his food than before. Kurt slams his fist down on the table, accidentally catching the back of his fork, which shoots a chunk of flan through the air, landing square in the middle of Sebastian's forehead. It is purely accidental, but it is such a good shot that Kurt doesn't own up to the mistake.

Sebastian's head pops up, the cold custard sliding down the bridge of his nose, dropping off the end and onto his plate.

"That wasn't called for," Sebastian says, picking up his napkin and wiping the gunk off his nose.

"You started it," Kurt says, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, well, now I have more of this crap to eat."

Kurt's jaw drops as he gasps, but he recovers quickly.

"If you don't want it," he says, pushing away from the table, "then don't eat it."

"Oh, but I have to eat it," Sebastian says, anticipating his husband coming to retrieve his plate and shielding it with his arms, "because you said it took forever to make. I'd be an asshole if I didn't eat it."

"You're being an asshole now," Kurt growls, grabbing for the plate which Sebastian keeps moving out of his reach.

"Talking about assholes…" Sebastian slides out of his chair with the dish of dessert in his hands, "you're the one who made my favorite dinner and then finished it off with this gunge."

"So, why are you still holding it?" Kurt lunges for Sebastian's plate, but Sebastian lifts it up over his head, a bit of the orange caramel sauce dripping onto Kurt's cheek. Sebastian giggles, then dodges as the napkin Kurt uses to clean up the drip goes flying at his face.

"Because I'm going to eat it," Sebastian insists.

"Well, just remember that eating it doesn't mean feeding it to the cat."

Sebastian stops trying to squirm away from Kurt's tentacle-like arms and gasps in an overly-dramatic way.

"I would never give my dessert to the cat."

"Really?" Kurt props his hands on his hips. "And why is that?"

"Because I actually like the cat," Sebastian says with a smirk, taking off around the table when Kurt flies after him.

"You know, if you object to the food I make, you can try cooking every once in a while." Kurt tries to grab for the plate but misses, raking his fingers over the top and through the dessert. He takes the handful of custard and launches it at Sebastian's face. He misses when Sebastian jerks away in the nick of time.

"I did, don't you remember?" Sebastian counters, grabbing up a handful of custard and tossing it back in retaliation, landing it on Kurt's neck.

"Chili served in a bag of Fritos doesn't qualify as a meal!" Kurt scrapes the flan off his neck and slaps Sebastian across the cheek with it.

"It did when I was in the scouts," Sebastian says. Kurt manages to grab hold of the lip of the plate and tugs.

"I guess that works," Kurt grumbles, straining to pull the plate out of Sebastian's grasp, "since you've barely matured since then."

"Says the man who made slime for dessert!"

Sebastian pulls, but Kurt pulls harder, and even as Sebastian pinches his fingers to keep the plate in his possession, his fingertips slip through the slick caramel sauce and the plate breaks free. The plate springs back at Kurt, dumping the remainder of the dessert down his neck before the dish lands to the floor. Kurt stumbles backward, custard creeping down his collar, underneath his shirt and down his skin, cold and clammy, sticking to him all over. Kurt stands with his arms hanging away from his sides in front of an equally shocked Sebastian, his mouth dropped open. Sebastian watches the caramel sauce seep into his husband's button down shirt, causing the fabric to cling to his body.

Kurt's hands ball into fists, his entire body shaking as he tries to contain his rage.

"Fine," he says, pulling himself up tall and heading bow-legged to the bathroom as the custard makes its way past his waistband and down his pants. "Congratulations. You got out of eating dessert."

"Now, hold up," Sebastian says, grabbing Kurt's slippery hand and pulling his husband to him, "I said I was going to eat it, and I'm going to eat it."

Kurt frowns at Sebastian, pulling his hand away, but Sebastian catches it again and holds it tight. He lifts it up to his lips and sucks the caramel sauce off Kurt's fingers slowly, one at a time.

Kurt bites his lip at the sinful way Sebastian's mouth feels, the way his silken tongue wraps so skillfully around each digit, and his brow furrows.

"But…but I thought you said…"

"When have I ever turned down anything you've made?" Sebastian cuts in, pulling Kurt closer and attacking the sauce dripping down his neck. "Besides, you're so fucking hot when you get angry."

Kurt wants to moan, wants to enjoy this, but he's still angry and a bit confused. He plants both hands on Sebastian's chest, pushing him away.

"You mean…you did all that on purpose?" Kurt asks, astounded, eying the mess they made on the dining room floor.

Sebastian doesn't say anything, using his mouth on the hollow of Kurt's neck as his reply.

"But…why…" Kurt asks, tilting his head obligingly this time when Sebastian nudges his chin.

"Maybe I just wanted to eat it off you instead…"

"Is that your answer to everything?" Kurt huffs, trying to sound indignant even though his outrage is quickly fading beneath the touch of his husband's tongue.

"I can't help myself," Sebastian replies, sweeping Kurt up in his arms and heading for the bathroom, leaving a trail of caramel sauce and tepid custard in their wake. "Some desserts are better than others. It's all about the presentation."