A/N: Hello all. This is a little drabble that popped into my head. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

"Damn it, Blaine. That's it. I'm done." Kurt stormed out of the kitchen. Fury blazed in his eyes as he tried to put as much distance between himself and Blaine as possible.

"Oh, come on Kurt, don't be mad." Blaine was hot on his heels and didn't let Kurt get very far before he grabbed his arm and spun him around.

Despite his change in direction, Kurt refused to look Blaine in the eye. Instead, he kept his icy glare stubbornly pinned to the bookshelf behind Blaine's shoulder.

"You aren't really mad at me, are you?" Blaine gently took Kurt's head in his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Of course I am! You humiliated me and you don't even have the decency to show an ounce of remorse for your actions."

"Kurt, I said I was sorry. Don't you believe me?" Blaine gave Kurt a pleading look as he searched for any hint of forgiveness in Kurt's expression.

"It's a bit hard to forgive someone when they can barely hold back the laughter in their superficial apology. Don't you think so?"

Blaine sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. He should have known that Kurt wasn't going to make this easy on him. It was time to bring out the big guns.

"Kurt. My love. My one and only. My Teenage Dream." Kurt didn't so much as twitch. "Will you please forgive me?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! You can't stay mad at me forever. Besides, I think you look cute covered in cake batter."

"I do not look like anything other than a hideous mess. My clothes are ruined and it'll be a week before I can get my hair back to it's previous immaculate condition." Kurt huffed in annoyance and folded his arms, not in the mood to deal with his husband right now. He just wanted to take a nice long shower and spend the rest of the day locked in his study with a steaming mug of tea.

"Pssh. I'll buy you new clothes and your hair will be fine. But you really can't place all the blame on me." Blaine fought down a grin as he saw Kurt's eyes soften at something behind him.

"Papa, now you look just like me!"

Blaine turned around to see their son standing in the kitchen doorway. He was not only covered in cake batter, but also flour, sugar and what Blaine assumed to be chocolate icing. In short, he was a mess.

"Toronto Hummel-Anderson, you are in big trouble, mister. Don't you know that you're supposed to put the cake batter in the oven instead of wearing it?" Kurt bent down to talk to his son at eye-level, brushing what little of his curly auburn hair wasn't covered in the pale pink mixture.

"But daddy said that you like to wear nice things," Toronto pouted. "And the batter looked nice, so you should wear it."

"Oh no sweetie," Kurt chided gently. "That only applies to clothing. Tell me, do you ever try to eat your clothes?"

"Yes."

Kurt shook his head and smiled at his son's answer. Honestly, at six years old, what didn't little boys try to eat?

"Ah, but you're not supposed to, are you?"

"...No."

"Alright then. So we don't eat our clothes and we don't wear our food. Understand?"

"Yes, papa."

"Good, now let's go upstairs and get you cleaned up. Then we can read a bit before bedtime. Does that sound good?"

Toronto nodded and gladly latched onto Kurt as he was lifted from the ground. Blaine started to follow them upstairs but was suddenly stopped when Kurt turned to face him.

"And where do you think you're going?" He asked, all traces of gentle parenthood gone from his voice.

"Uh...upstairs to help you with Toronto?"

"Hm. I think not. You can clean the mess in the kitchen and if you do a good enough job, I just might clean the mess on you."

Kurt winked and disappeared up the stairs and left Blaine to do the most thorough kitchen cleaning of his life.

A/N: And there you have it, short and sweet.