Kurtbastian One-Shots

Petty (Rated PG13)

Summary:

There are two ways to hurt someone - intentionally and unintentionally.

Sebastian manages to do both during the course of one argument.

***

"Get out of my kitchen," Kurt commands when he hears the door he just stormed through swing open behind him.

"Not your kitchen, sweetheart," Sebastian snaps, brushing by Kurt, infuriatingly close, on his way to the refrigerator. There's no need. The kitchen is big enough to accommodate them both without them stepping over one another. Sebastian did it on purpose. He did it to make a point. "This was my penthouse before you and I ever hooked up."

"Yeah, well, I live here now. My name's on the lease. I even pay rent."

"So, it's half your kitchen."

"I buy the groceries," Kurt presses, pulling spices off the rack and taking cans out of the cabinets, anything to avoid the fridge until Sebastian gets his beer and gets out of his way. "The pots and pans are mine, the dishes are mine ... the knives are mine. It's mostly my kitchen."

Sebastian leans against a far counter and cracks open his bottle, but he doesn't take a swig. He didn't really want a beer; he just didn't want to leave things the way they were, with Kurt pissed off at him and his (admittedly) obnoxious attitude. Sebastian thought if they could move their 'discussion' into the kitchen, the one place Kurt feels calmest, Kurt might see that regardless of what Sebastian said, he was overreacting.

Barring that, Sebastian wanted to stay on Kurt's nerves.

"Way to be petty, Hummel."

Kurt slams a can of chicken broth on the counter, his free hand gripping the edge, keeping him from chucking the can at his boyfriend. "I'm being petty?"

"Yup."

"A-ha. So what do you call what you're doing - standing over there with your beer instead of drinking it on the sofa?"

"I'm supervising." Sebastian smirks and finally takes a swig. It hasn't been in the refrigerator long, so it's warm, and tastes flat.

But needling his uptight boyfriend? That tastes good.

Kurt drums his fingers on the countertop, formulating a comeback, but gives up in favor of starting dinner.

"Whatever." With his left hand, he grabs a carrot; with his right hand, a knife. With one hard swipe of his blade, his hacks off the top (rather symbolically, Sebastian notices), then starts slicing. After the carrot, he moves on to an onion, then a potato. Sebastian scans the countertop at the rest of the ingredients – oregano, garlic, a yam, a pound or two of beef wrapped in butcher paper.

Stew. Kurt is making stew.

His mother's stew, to be precise.

It's Kurt's go-to comfort food. He reserves it for those days when the world weighs heavy on his shoulders. And Sebastian makes it with him, to remind Kurt that he has someone on his side.

But Kurt is making it alone this time while Sebastian stands in the corner, acting like a dick.

And now Sebastian feels like a dick.

Sebastian watches Kurt search his ingredients, his hand groping the spaces between for something he apparently thought he'd gotten. A second glance and Sebastian knows what Kurt is looking for. And no, it's not there.

Celery.

Kurt forgot the celery.

Seeing as Sebastian is closest to the fridge, Kurt is probably not too eager to get it.