Kurt was still seething when he returned to the loft, hoping that he had scared Blaine away entirely. He couldn’t believe the nerve of his ex-boyfriend. Blaming his affair on Finn! It was true that during their high school careers, Finn had been involved in cheating, on both sides of the equation, but he had never thought that Blaine would decide to use him as the world’s most ridiculous excuse!
And Kurt was Finn Hudson’s brother, he knew all about ridiculous excuses.
“Where’d you go?” Said brother questioned, his voice permeating both Kurt’s inner rant and the silence of the loft. “I woke up and you weren’t here, there was no note, no –“
“I should have left a note,” Kurt agreed, not wanting a Finn-related headache to join his Blaine-related headache. “I had to deal with a small little problem.” He smiled weakly at him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”
“For what?” Finn asked, and Kurt resisted the temptation to allow his head to meet the nearest flat surface. Sometimes Finn didn’t get things. Though in this case…well, Kurt didn’t exactly blame him. He watched as Finn scratched his face, yawning widely. “What’d I do?”
“Nothing,” he assured him, crossing the room and enveloping his brother into a hug. “You’re fine.”
“No ‘m not,” he heard him object. “Not really.”
“You will be someday,” he promised him. “I know you, Finn.”
“Thanks, bro,” Finn replied, releasing himself from the hug and shooting Kurt a goofy grin. “I love you, you know that, right?”
He nodded. “I know,” he whispered. “I love you too.”
“You gonna be okay?” Finn asked him. “I mean, with Blaine an’ all.”
He shrugged. “I will be, eventually.”
Kurt needed something to distract himself from the perils of life in the loft – and honestly, just because he was gay, did not mean he wanted his life to emulate a soap opera – and he peered cautiously into his kitchen, relieved when he spotted it empty.
He could clean.
Unfortunately, Finn followed him into said kitchen, slowly perching on the counter top. Kurt eyed it – and by extension him – in disgust.
“Santana and Brittany were defiling that very spot earlier,” he told Finn, motioning for him to stand. “It has to be cleaned before I can allow you to sit there.”
“Will you make cookies after?” Finn asked, and Kurt let out a sigh. His brother, the human trash compactor. He nodded.
“Yes,” he told him. “I will.”
“Chocolate chip?” Finn begged, though Kurt let the uncouthness of begging slide because he eased off the counter in the process.
“Yes,” he sighed. “And yes, you can sample my wares.”