Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble 2017 prompt 'zone'.

Kurt comes home to a dark loft, and he heaves a heavy sigh. He's relieved to finally be home. He'd had to dodge Gunther - on the lookout for someone to work overtime when a huge party came in right as Kurt's shift ended – to get here on time. But it's nearly six o'clock. Blaine should be home by now. They had plans to have dinner together. He hopes Blaine didn't forget.

Or get ambushed by June Dolloway.

It would be like her to sabotage the one date night they get this week.

But as Kurt rolls the door shut, he hears a distinct, "Shhh," and even though he detests being shushed, it means that Blaine is indeed home, sitting in their living room somewhere … with the lights off.

Kurt grins.

This could be promising.

"Hello, Blaine," he says seductively on the off chance the situation calls for it.

"Hey, honey," Blaine whispers back, not seductively in the least. Disappointing, but oh well.

They have all night.

"How was your afternoon?" Kurt asks. "Mine was wretched."

"Mine was alright."

Kurt nods as he hangs up his coat, waiting for some exposition on the part of his bizarrely tight-lipped fiancé. "Just alright?"

"Yup."

"Is that all?"

"A-ha."

"Didn't you have an audition today?"

Kurt starts filling a kettle with water, dying for a hot cup of chamomile tea. The stuff they serve down at the diner can be classified as weak leaf water at best. When he turns on the water, he hears Blaine shush again - quieter, more to himself - before he replies, "I did," in a softer voice.

"Well, how did that go?"

"Fine-" The word catches in his throat, cutting off at the end.

"Blaine?" Kurt peeks over the kitchen table in search of his fiancé. He'd thought for sure Blaine was sitting on the sofa from the sound of his voice, but he's not.

He's on the floor.

From where Kurt is standing, all he can see is the curls atop Blaine's head.

"Is there a reason why you're whispering?" Kurt asks.

"I …" Blaine moves slowly, rising up on his rear so Kurt can see him better, but only by an inch. Then he stops. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"So, why don't you?" Kurt turns off the faucet and walks around the kitchen table, curious to find out why his fiancé seems stuck to the floor. Maybe he fell, Kurt considers, and he's hurt. Maybe he's in so much pain, he can't talk louder than a whisper.

But even before he completes that thought, he sees for himself what the problem is, eyes drifting from Blaine's crotch to his face. Blaine chuckles nervously when he sees Kurt coming.

"Uh … Noel fell asleep in my lap," he explains, "and I didn't want to wake him."

"Is that all?" Kurt sighs, relieved that the only thing down for the count is their two-year-old tortoiseshell.

"No." Blaine tries to straighten his back but he winces, settling back into position with pain on his face. "I've been sitting here so long, my butt's asleep."

Kurt shakes his head. "How do you get yourself into these situations?"

"It wasn't my fault! He's very persuasive - with his big, brown eyes and his plaintive little meow. He sounded so lost and lonely."

"He's neither lost nor lonely. He's taking over this loft! You don't ever say no to him. We're the alphas around here, Blaine. Remember? We make the rules. Not him." Kurt advances on his fiancé, arms outstretched - Blaine assumes for a hug, but only too late does he realize Kurt's intentions.

"No, Kurt! Don't!" Blaine tries to lurch backward out of reach without jostling the cat too much, but the spire of pain that cycles up his spine keeps him pinned. Kurt grabs the cat, gently but ungraciously plopping the now awake animal on the hard wood floor.

"Shoo-shoo. Go on. Get," Kurt says, waving the cat away. "There." He brushes his hands together as the cat scurries underneath the sofa. "Now you can go to the bathroom."

Blaine frowns at his triumphant fiancé. "That wasn't very nice."

"Human needs trump cat needs. Sorry, not sorry. Besides, we spent good money on a kitty bed especially for his fluffy butt. It's high time he learns how to use it."

Blaine scowls, but accepts Kurt's help when he offers him a hand up. "You know, I love you, but sometimes you can be a horrible human being."

"Yeah, well, tell me that again when your bladder's empty."

Blaine massages his sore butt and shakes out his stiff legs, hissing at the pins and needles that follow when his toes come in contact with the floor. When he can feel his feet again, he limps toward the bathroom in a huff, taking the last few steps at a run because he really does have to go. And go he does, unleashing (after having held in three iced coffees and a glass of chocolate milk) what had to be the longest pee of his entire life.

He takes extra time washing his hands since he doesn't want to admit yet just how grateful he is to Kurt for stepping in and making the executive decision to de-throne his furry interloper. When he's lotioned his hands beyond the point of moist, he emerges from the bathroom, feeling eight gallons lighter, and notices that the lights are still off. Usually Kurt would be busy in the kitchen, getting dinner started, but Blaine doesn't hear him in there.

He doesn't hear him anywhere.

"Kurt?" Blaine calls out, wondering if Kurt stepped out again, maybe for something he forgot to pick up on his way home. "Kurt, are you …?"

But he finds Kurt not too far from where he left him - sitting on the couch with Noel asleep in his lap. Blaine crosses his arms over his chest and starts to snicker, but Kurt glares him into silence.

"Don't," he says. "Don't. Say. A word."