Why Blaine Anderson Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen 1/1
Title: Why Blaine Anderson Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen
Rating: PG 13
Characters: Kurt, Puck, Blaine, Dave, Mercedes, Finn, Rachel friendship
Pairing: Kurt/Puck, Blainofsky, Finchel
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Humor
Spoilers: AU season 3, but Blaine transferred to McKinley
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: For mytay. Happy Birthday, bb!
Summary: Kurt really had to learn how to say "No."
Word Count: ~2800
Six words and Blaine Anderson had Kurt Hummel straining for breath. (It used to be one word and Kurt was on the floor, but those days were over, gladly so)
No, there was no love lost between Blaine and Kurt. Literally. They still loved each other, now with less sex and more griping about their respective boyfriends. Kurt was sort of proud for remaining close friends with his ex-that is, until said ex pulled stunts like this and made Kurt sort of wish that they had an epic, screaming, knock out, drag down sort of break up whose story would be told to every gay kid upon coming out in hopes of deterring anyone from experiencing such a violent break up again.
Alas, it was a mutual decision that lead to them talking the night away at the Lima Bean and swearing to each other that they would find boyfriends more suitable for one another soon. True enough, as Kurt started dating Noah Puckerman not three days later and Blaine, ever the classy one, waited a whole week before getting caught making out in one of the broom closets with none other than Dave Karofksy (It was National Coming Out Day-very fitting. Kurt was almost jealous of the drama that ensued). Either way, the two boys very much content.
That is, Kurt was content until he found himself in his current predicament. Sitting on a stool at the island of the Hummel-Hudson kitchen, Kurt could only share looks of absolute terror with the other occupants of the kitchen. How did it come to this? Kurt had such a bright future, having just been accepted into NYU. His life plan was working out perfectly as both Rachel and Mercedes decided upon/were accepted into schools in the city as well and the threesome was sharing an apartment in Brooklyn.
Which Kurt hoped his dad could make some money back by selling because there was no way he was going to survive this night.
“I wanted to fry ice cream.”
Yup, no one was surviving this one.
Kurt’s mouth opened and closed three times in an attempt to say something-anything-that would deter Blaine from this suicide mission without hurting his feelings (break ups, Hummel, you’re doing them wrong).
Fortunately, Kurt’s current boyfriend had no qualms about hurting Blaine’s feelings, “Uh, how do I put this? Fuck no, Anderson.”
Noah Puckerman, Nice Guy Extraordinaire.
Blaine turned to the jock and it was almost comical how they looked facing each other: Blaine in his customary slacks, plaid button-down, sweater vest, and bow-tie combo, with Puck towering over him in a plain t-shirt and jeans ensemble. It was like Pee-Wee Herman and Return of the Muscled Jock. Kurt snorted, causing both parties to look at him.
“Sorry, funny Youtube, carry on.”
What was freaky was the way both his ex and current boyfriend raised their right eyebrows in response. C r e e p y.
Blaine turned back to Puck, “I don’t understand why you have such a problem with me doing this.”
Puck’s eyes got comically wide, “Are you kidding me, Anderson? The Banana Bread Incident?”
Kurt chimed in, “Or the Chicken Soup Fiasco?”
Dave, who was, bless his heart, doing math homework in the seat next to Kurt, remarked, “The Lemon Meringue Debacle?”
“Dude, even I heard about the Meatball Failure,” Finn called out from the living room, where he was cuddling on the couch with Rachel, who added, “Brownies, Blaine, brownies.”
“And let’s not forget the great Eyebrow Bonfire of 2011, when you decided to flambé bananas for crepes, Blaine,” Mercedes said from her place at the kitchen table, where she was typing up an essay.
Blaine, whose bright grin at the idea of fried ice cream slowly dimmed with each addition to the conversation, looked like he was going to cry at this point. His eyes shone with tears and, at the first tremble of lower lip, Kurt, Dave, and Puck all flinched.
“Wait, Blaine don’t-“
“Anderson, it’s not like that-“
“Babe, you can fry ice cream if you want to.”
Kurt and Puck turned to Dave in shock. They felt bad, but not that bad. “Uh, Dave, as nice as that is, I don’t think fire insurance covers Teenage-Boy-Ineptitude.”
Mercedes closed her laptop with a finality that suggested some serious smack down. She got up from her chair and walked over to the quartet of boys, “Come on, Blaine, I’ll supervise.”
Kurt sent her a look he hoped conveyed his thoughts, Are you sure you want to risk my house and, more importantly, that new weave?
It was a credit to their friendship that she seemed to understand and Kurt, in turn, understood her wordless reply, Boy, I’ve been frying everything from chicken to butter with my grandma since forever and this weave was on sale, so I bought an extra one.
Yeah, Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel were fine.
“Let’s do this, white boy. I assume you have everything you need?”
Blaine ran to get the wok out of the lower cabinet and the vegetable oil out of the pantry. Then he grabbed a spatula and a box of-
“Panko? When did we get Panko?”
Dave boggled at Kurt, “What the hell is Panko?”
“A variety of Japanese breadcrumb used to coat foods in a crunchy exterior for frying,” Blaine and Puck recited in perfect unison. Puck held up the box he was holding. “It’s what the box says,” he offered in explanation.
Kurt really should have considered the weirdness of staying close with his ex. But not even he could not have factored in the possibility of his ex becoming close with his current flame.
That’s right world, Noah Puckerman and Blaine Anderson were friends. And not tolerate-and-be-tolerated-by-Kurt kind of friends either. Oh no, that would be too normal. No, Blaine and Puck were football-watching buddies and Harry-Potter-dress-up buddies and jam-session buddies. Blaine and Puck were actual friends. It terrified Kurt and Dave.
Not that Puck will ever admit being friends with the shorter boy. He still called him Anderson and Hobbit and made as many short jokes as he possibly could in any given situation. But Blaine was one of Puck’s “boys”, and no one messes with Puck’s boys. Just ask Kenny Der-oh, wait, you’d have to wait until his jaw set.
Back to the situation at hand, Kurt watched as Blaine poured an alarming amount of oil in the pan before turning on the burner underneath.
Mercedes started, “Wait. Hold up, Curly! Don’t you need to prepare the ice cream balls-“ Puck and Dave snorted “-and coat them with that Panky-stuff?”
Blaine, in response, ran to the freezer and pulled out a plate covered in said ice cream balls. Kurt’s eyes bugged out, “How the heck did you get those in there?!”
Blaine shrugged, “I waited for Puck to go into your house first and, while he shoved you on the couch for your regular Hello!Makeout session, I snuck the cooler and the rest of the supplies in.”
Kurt let his forehead fall on the countertop. Great. Just great. His house was going to burn because he made out with his boyfriend. Maybe his dad was right about Puck not being good for his health.
Not that it mattered, one way or another, because the oil was heating up and splashing a good three feet in the air.
“Babe, shouldn’t you move away from that? You’re kind of…close to the pan.”
“What your boyfriend is trying to say is that you’re pocket size and your head barely clears the stovetop,” Puck elaborated.
Blaine pouted for a second before his face lit up, “Wait! I forgot my mask!”
He ran to his backpack and pulled out a mask Kurt was sure was from his dad’s shop. The mechanics used it for welding.
“Where the hell did you get that?”
Blaine blinked at him for a second before putting it on, followed by the elbow-length protective gloves, “I told you, my dad and I worked on a car together in his attempts to make me straight!”
Kurt didn’t know if it was the words or the almost-non-chalant way they were said in that caused the other four occupants of the kitchen to wince as one.
“Dude, I’m sorry-“
“Why are you sorry, Dave? My dad came around and he loves you!” Blaine smiled before bringing the mask down on his face. Kurt was torn between laughing and crying at the sight. He settled for a choked sob.
Mercedes crossed herself quickly before turning to Blaine, “Okay, first up. You need to see if the oil is hot enough. I usually toss in some flour, but you should use some of that Panky stuff.”
“Panko,” recited the other four in unison.
She rolled her eyes, “Whatever, no difference.”
“Actually, Jones, every time you say it your way, I hear ‘spanky’ and it gets me all excited.”
Kurt hurled Dave’s pencil at his boyfriend, “Troglodyte.”
“You love it.”
“Ha, yeah, no.”
Dave snorted and went to pick up the pencil, “Lovely relationship the two of you have.”
“Oh and you and Frodo are any better?”
“At least we-“
“Alright!” Mercedes clapped her hands to stop the conversation in its tracks, “This is distracting and any distraction could lead to fire, so let’s not, shall we?”
That sobered everyone up pretty quickly. As did Blaine tossing in the first ball. He yelled in delight as it started frying. Everyone else yelled for a different reason, as smoke started coming out of the pan. There was no way in hell that Blaine could see or smell the smoke with that mask on.
“Too hot! The oil’s too hot, Blaine!” Mercedes shrieked. Kurt swallowed heavily.
“It’s okay! I’ll turn down the heat!” He did so and proceeded to take out the first ball and place it on a plate in front of Dave and Kurt, “Eat! Tell me what you think!” He turned around to add more to the pan and missed seeing Kurt and Dave exchange twin looks of dread.
After a silent conversation (“You first!” “No, you! You’re his best friend!” “You’re his boyfriend!” “So were you!” “Were, David, were!”), Dave picked up the spoon and tried to stick it into the ice cream ball.
Tried being the operative word, “Hey, babe, I think you can leave them in longer. They’re still kind of frozen.”
“Okay!” Blaine shouted, apparently slightly deaf because of the mask.
Finn and Rachel walked in, Finn with excitement and Rachel in trepidation. “Cool! Can I try one?”
Blaine handed Finn a plate with the next one and gave Dave the one he returned to the pan. Finn and Dave dug in.
“This is awesome, man! Thanks!”
Dave chewed thoughtfully, “I just don’t see why we couldn’t just eat ice cream.”
Puck snickered and Mercedes smacked him on the arm, “Be more supportive!”
“Hey, I’m eating it, aren’t I?”
Blaine tossed the rest of the balls in, leading more smoke to come out of the pan. “Hey, guys, if we don’t open a window or anything, the alarm is going to go off and then the fire department will be here. I don’t think your dad will appreciate that, Kurt.”
Kurt started, “Puck, open the window. Dave, Rachel come with me to get the fans from upstairs, we need to move the air out.”
Puck opened the window and immediately, rain came blowing in. Right, forgot to mention that. There was an almost hurricane outside, which is why all of their friends would have to sleep over that night.
Kurt, Rachel, and Dave came rushing down the stairs and plugged in the small fans they had and proceeded to wave them around to move the air. Kurt, almost immediately, got tired of waving his and passed it on to his scowling boyfriend.
“Gee, thanks doll.”
“You are very welcome, Noah.”
Finally, finally, Blaine was finished and turned off the burner. He then took off his armor and sat down to enjoy his first bite of his creation. He sighed, “Success.”
Only Blaine Anderson would sit at a kitchen table, eating ice cream while the kitchen air was nearly opaque because of all the smoke in it and declare it a success.
Blaine took a second bite and exclaimed in glee, “I’m awesome.”
“I hate you,” Puck, said, dry as ever, while still frantically waving the fan above his head.
Finn spoke, “Hey, it’s just the pan now, I bet if we put it outside, the kitchen will be fine.” He went over to the stove and picked up the still bubbling pan by its handle. Mercedes dove for cover as he made his way past her and toward the door leading to the backyard.
Kurt sighed as the kitchen became noticeably clearer when the pan was carried out. His relief was short-lived, however, as a terrifying thought came to mind.
“WATER!” Kurt and Mercedes, who apparently had the same thought at the same time, yelled as they ran to follow Finn.
Finn had just stepped out into the rainy night. He screamed, “Guys, the oil is hissing!”
Puck, Rachel, and Dave looked wide-eyed at each other as they kept up with their fans. All could be heard from outside was Kurt and Mercedes’ voices yelling fearful instructions to a slightly hysterical Finn.
Blaine ate another bite of his ice cream, completely oblivious to the chaos around him, “Seriously, this is awesome.”
“I hate you.”
Rating: PG 13
Characters: Kurt, Puck, Blaine, Dave, Mercedes, Finn, Rachel friendship
Pairing: Kurt/Puck, Blainofsky, Finchel
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Humor
Spoilers: AU season 3, but Blaine transferred to McKinley
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: For mytay. Happy Birthday, bb!
Summary: Kurt really had to learn how to say "No."
Word Count: ~2800
Six words and Blaine Anderson had Kurt Hummel straining for breath. (It used to be one word and Kurt was on the floor, but those days were over, gladly so)
No, there was no love lost between Blaine and Kurt. Literally. They still loved each other, now with less sex and more griping about their respective boyfriends. Kurt was sort of proud for remaining close friends with his ex-that is, until said ex pulled stunts like this and made Kurt sort of wish that they had an epic, screaming, knock out, drag down sort of break up whose story would be told to every gay kid upon coming out in hopes of deterring anyone from experiencing such a violent break up again.
Alas, it was a mutual decision that lead to them talking the night away at the Lima Bean and swearing to each other that they would find boyfriends more suitable for one another soon. True enough, as Kurt started dating Noah Puckerman not three days later and Blaine, ever the classy one, waited a whole week before getting caught making out in one of the broom closets with none other than Dave Karofksy (It was National Coming Out Day-very fitting. Kurt was almost jealous of the drama that ensued). Either way, the two boys very much content.
That is, Kurt was content until he found himself in his current predicament. Sitting on a stool at the island of the Hummel-Hudson kitchen, Kurt could only share looks of absolute terror with the other occupants of the kitchen. How did it come to this? Kurt had such a bright future, having just been accepted into NYU. His life plan was working out perfectly as both Rachel and Mercedes decided upon/were accepted into schools in the city as well and the threesome was sharing an apartment in Brooklyn.
Which Kurt hoped his dad could make some money back by selling because there was no way he was going to survive this night.
“I wanted to fry ice cream.”
Yup, no one was surviving this one.
Kurt’s mouth opened and closed three times in an attempt to say something-anything-that would deter Blaine from this suicide mission without hurting his feelings (break ups, Hummel, you’re doing them wrong).
Fortunately, Kurt’s current boyfriend had no qualms about hurting Blaine’s feelings, “Uh, how do I put this? Fuck no, Anderson.”
Noah Puckerman, Nice Guy Extraordinaire.
Blaine turned to the jock and it was almost comical how they looked facing each other: Blaine in his customary slacks, plaid button-down, sweater vest, and bow-tie combo, with Puck towering over him in a plain t-shirt and jeans ensemble. It was like Pee-Wee Herman and Return of the Muscled Jock. Kurt snorted, causing both parties to look at him.
“Sorry, funny Youtube, carry on.”
What was freaky was the way both his ex and current boyfriend raised their right eyebrows in response. C r e e p y.
Blaine turned back to Puck, “I don’t understand why you have such a problem with me doing this.”
Puck’s eyes got comically wide, “Are you kidding me, Anderson? The Banana Bread Incident?”
Kurt chimed in, “Or the Chicken Soup Fiasco?”
Dave, who was, bless his heart, doing math homework in the seat next to Kurt, remarked, “The Lemon Meringue Debacle?”
“Dude, even I heard about the Meatball Failure,” Finn called out from the living room, where he was cuddling on the couch with Rachel, who added, “Brownies, Blaine, brownies.”
“And let’s not forget the great Eyebrow Bonfire of 2011, when you decided to flambé bananas for crepes, Blaine,” Mercedes said from her place at the kitchen table, where she was typing up an essay.
Blaine, whose bright grin at the idea of fried ice cream slowly dimmed with each addition to the conversation, looked like he was going to cry at this point. His eyes shone with tears and, at the first tremble of lower lip, Kurt, Dave, and Puck all flinched.
“Wait, Blaine don’t-“
“Anderson, it’s not like that-“
“Babe, you can fry ice cream if you want to.”
Kurt and Puck turned to Dave in shock. They felt bad, but not that bad. “Uh, Dave, as nice as that is, I don’t think fire insurance covers Teenage-Boy-Ineptitude.”
Mercedes closed her laptop with a finality that suggested some serious smack down. She got up from her chair and walked over to the quartet of boys, “Come on, Blaine, I’ll supervise.”
Kurt sent her a look he hoped conveyed his thoughts, Are you sure you want to risk my house and, more importantly, that new weave?
It was a credit to their friendship that she seemed to understand and Kurt, in turn, understood her wordless reply, Boy, I’ve been frying everything from chicken to butter with my grandma since forever and this weave was on sale, so I bought an extra one.
Yeah, Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel were fine.
“Let’s do this, white boy. I assume you have everything you need?”
Blaine ran to get the wok out of the lower cabinet and the vegetable oil out of the pantry. Then he grabbed a spatula and a box of-
“Panko? When did we get Panko?”
Dave boggled at Kurt, “What the hell is Panko?”
“A variety of Japanese breadcrumb used to coat foods in a crunchy exterior for frying,” Blaine and Puck recited in perfect unison. Puck held up the box he was holding. “It’s what the box says,” he offered in explanation.
Kurt really should have considered the weirdness of staying close with his ex. But not even he could not have factored in the possibility of his ex becoming close with his current flame.
That’s right world, Noah Puckerman and Blaine Anderson were friends. And not tolerate-and-be-tolerated-by-Kurt kind of friends either. Oh no, that would be too normal. No, Blaine and Puck were football-watching buddies and Harry-Potter-dress-up buddies and jam-session buddies. Blaine and Puck were actual friends. It terrified Kurt and Dave.
Not that Puck will ever admit being friends with the shorter boy. He still called him Anderson and Hobbit and made as many short jokes as he possibly could in any given situation. But Blaine was one of Puck’s “boys”, and no one messes with Puck’s boys. Just ask Kenny Der-oh, wait, you’d have to wait until his jaw set.
Back to the situation at hand, Kurt watched as Blaine poured an alarming amount of oil in the pan before turning on the burner underneath.
Mercedes started, “Wait. Hold up, Curly! Don’t you need to prepare the ice cream balls-“ Puck and Dave snorted “-and coat them with that Panky-stuff?”
Blaine, in response, ran to the freezer and pulled out a plate covered in said ice cream balls. Kurt’s eyes bugged out, “How the heck did you get those in there?!”
Blaine shrugged, “I waited for Puck to go into your house first and, while he shoved you on the couch for your regular Hello!Makeout session, I snuck the cooler and the rest of the supplies in.”
Kurt let his forehead fall on the countertop. Great. Just great. His house was going to burn because he made out with his boyfriend. Maybe his dad was right about Puck not being good for his health.
Not that it mattered, one way or another, because the oil was heating up and splashing a good three feet in the air.
“Babe, shouldn’t you move away from that? You’re kind of…close to the pan.”
“What your boyfriend is trying to say is that you’re pocket size and your head barely clears the stovetop,” Puck elaborated.
Blaine pouted for a second before his face lit up, “Wait! I forgot my mask!”
He ran to his backpack and pulled out a mask Kurt was sure was from his dad’s shop. The mechanics used it for welding.
“Where the hell did you get that?”
Blaine blinked at him for a second before putting it on, followed by the elbow-length protective gloves, “I told you, my dad and I worked on a car together in his attempts to make me straight!”
Kurt didn’t know if it was the words or the almost-non-chalant way they were said in that caused the other four occupants of the kitchen to wince as one.
“Dude, I’m sorry-“
“Why are you sorry, Dave? My dad came around and he loves you!” Blaine smiled before bringing the mask down on his face. Kurt was torn between laughing and crying at the sight. He settled for a choked sob.
Mercedes crossed herself quickly before turning to Blaine, “Okay, first up. You need to see if the oil is hot enough. I usually toss in some flour, but you should use some of that Panky stuff.”
“Panko,” recited the other four in unison.
She rolled her eyes, “Whatever, no difference.”
“Actually, Jones, every time you say it your way, I hear ‘spanky’ and it gets me all excited.”
Kurt hurled Dave’s pencil at his boyfriend, “Troglodyte.”
“You love it.”
“Ha, yeah, no.”
Dave snorted and went to pick up the pencil, “Lovely relationship the two of you have.”
“Oh and you and Frodo are any better?”
“At least we-“
“Alright!” Mercedes clapped her hands to stop the conversation in its tracks, “This is distracting and any distraction could lead to fire, so let’s not, shall we?”
That sobered everyone up pretty quickly. As did Blaine tossing in the first ball. He yelled in delight as it started frying. Everyone else yelled for a different reason, as smoke started coming out of the pan. There was no way in hell that Blaine could see or smell the smoke with that mask on.
“Too hot! The oil’s too hot, Blaine!” Mercedes shrieked. Kurt swallowed heavily.
“It’s okay! I’ll turn down the heat!” He did so and proceeded to take out the first ball and place it on a plate in front of Dave and Kurt, “Eat! Tell me what you think!” He turned around to add more to the pan and missed seeing Kurt and Dave exchange twin looks of dread.
After a silent conversation (“You first!” “No, you! You’re his best friend!” “You’re his boyfriend!” “So were you!” “Were, David, were!”), Dave picked up the spoon and tried to stick it into the ice cream ball.
Tried being the operative word, “Hey, babe, I think you can leave them in longer. They’re still kind of frozen.”
“Okay!” Blaine shouted, apparently slightly deaf because of the mask.
Finn and Rachel walked in, Finn with excitement and Rachel in trepidation. “Cool! Can I try one?”
Blaine handed Finn a plate with the next one and gave Dave the one he returned to the pan. Finn and Dave dug in.
“This is awesome, man! Thanks!”
Dave chewed thoughtfully, “I just don’t see why we couldn’t just eat ice cream.”
Puck snickered and Mercedes smacked him on the arm, “Be more supportive!”
“Hey, I’m eating it, aren’t I?”
Blaine tossed the rest of the balls in, leading more smoke to come out of the pan. “Hey, guys, if we don’t open a window or anything, the alarm is going to go off and then the fire department will be here. I don’t think your dad will appreciate that, Kurt.”
Kurt started, “Puck, open the window. Dave, Rachel come with me to get the fans from upstairs, we need to move the air out.”
Puck opened the window and immediately, rain came blowing in. Right, forgot to mention that. There was an almost hurricane outside, which is why all of their friends would have to sleep over that night.
Kurt, Rachel, and Dave came rushing down the stairs and plugged in the small fans they had and proceeded to wave them around to move the air. Kurt, almost immediately, got tired of waving his and passed it on to his scowling boyfriend.
“Gee, thanks doll.”
“You are very welcome, Noah.”
Finally, finally, Blaine was finished and turned off the burner. He then took off his armor and sat down to enjoy his first bite of his creation. He sighed, “Success.”
Only Blaine Anderson would sit at a kitchen table, eating ice cream while the kitchen air was nearly opaque because of all the smoke in it and declare it a success.
Blaine took a second bite and exclaimed in glee, “I’m awesome.”
“I hate you,” Puck, said, dry as ever, while still frantically waving the fan above his head.
Finn spoke, “Hey, it’s just the pan now, I bet if we put it outside, the kitchen will be fine.” He went over to the stove and picked up the still bubbling pan by its handle. Mercedes dove for cover as he made his way past her and toward the door leading to the backyard.
Kurt sighed as the kitchen became noticeably clearer when the pan was carried out. His relief was short-lived, however, as a terrifying thought came to mind.
“WATER!” Kurt and Mercedes, who apparently had the same thought at the same time, yelled as they ran to follow Finn.
Finn had just stepped out into the rainy night. He screamed, “Guys, the oil is hissing!”
Puck, Rachel, and Dave looked wide-eyed at each other as they kept up with their fans. All could be heard from outside was Kurt and Mercedes’ voices yelling fearful instructions to a slightly hysterical Finn.
Blaine ate another bite of his ice cream, completely oblivious to the chaos around him, “Seriously, this is awesome.”
“I hate you.”