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1. Keurig
Blaine’s affinity for niche kitchen appliances started out small, practical: a Keurig tucked between stacks of books on the desk in his dorm room at Dalton.
Plug in. Pour water. Insert K-Cup. Wait.
Boom.
The perfect single cup of coffee.
High school was hard, and boarding at Dalton for his sophomore year was shaping up to be even harder. It wasn’t homesickness, exactly. In fact, he wondered why he wasn’t homesick. He wondered why he was always the one to initiate phone calls with his parents, once a week, like clockwork, because he just felt like he should. He wondered why all the boys at school were friendly, the Warblers especially, but he just hadn’t connected with anyone yet.
Sometimes he felt like he was floating. So the predictability of his single-cup Keurig machine?
It was easy. Reliable. Consistent. It was exactly what he needed.
Blaine thrived in the ease of his morning routine, and to be able to save himself the hassle of grinding the beans, putting in the filter, measuring out the coffee grounds, and waiting for a whole pot of coffee to brew only to drink a single cup from it?
It was just the right way to kickstart his day.
It was his anchor, until it wasn’t.
Until, “Hi, can I ask you a question? I’m new here.” Until the handshake. Until the shortcut that admittedly wasn’t actually any shorter than the usual route. Until the Warblers’ impromptu Katy Perry performance, and the cup of coffee from Dalton’s coffee machine that he usually avoided.
He somehow didn’t mind drinking a latte from Dalton’s machine that day, across the table from none other than the spy from the New Directions, Kurt, caught red-handed.
That cup of coffee, in fact, was the first of many that didn’t come from his beloved Keurig.
Suddenly, his days became a little more interesting. With every cup of coffee shared with Kurt at the Lima Bean, he felt a little more seen, a little more heard.
He still engaged in the ritual of his morning Keurig-brewed cup, but one day he noticed it didn’t feel so important anymore.
Maybe it wasn’t the perfect cup of coffee after all. There was something about that plain old drip at the Lima Bean - accompanied by a biscotti, perhaps - that just felt a little more special.
2. Panini Press
Transferring to McKinley to be with Kurt was a no-brainer. Blaine was kidding himself when he took the time to think about it - he always knew his answer.
Kurt had quickly, seamlessly become his anchor before he even realized what was happening, and once Blaine finally got it right, he wasn’t about to let him go.
That’s not to say that the transfer was easy. Saying goodbye to Dalton and the Warblers and his dorm room wasn’t too difficult - he still had no real ties - but adjusting back to his old life living in his parent’s house in Lima proved a little tougher than he expected. Blaine was home alone more often than not, with his parents’ robust work and social lives.
He was unpacking the remnants of his dorm room belongings, finding his coffee mug a new home in the kitchen cabinet and slotting his trusty Keurig - still unable to part with it - in place on the counter, when he saw it.
The panini press.
Blaine had never been much of a cook, having sustained himself on school cafeteria food for the past year, but something about the little appliance, likely impulsively purchased by his mom and just as quickly forgotten, caught his eye.
A grilled cheese did sound pretty good.
Plug in. Preheat. Assemble sandwich. Place on griddle. Press. Wait.
Boom.
The perfect grilled cheese.
It quickly became an after-school ritual: Blaine would shuffle into the empty house, tired from a long day of class and Glee practice (but tired in a good way, because he got to be with Kurt), and go straight to the kitchen to make his sandwich. The silence in their too-big house was deafening at times, and he found himself eager to fill it with the sizzle of buttered bread on the hot panini press.
Some afternoons, he and Kurt would go to the Lima Bean, or he’d do homework at Kurt’s house before retreating to his own home to settle in with his panini press and unwind.
Every once in a while, he managed to convince Kurt to come home to Blaine’s house to do homework. It didn’t happen as often as Blaine might like, as they never ended up making much progress on their stacks of homework, and Kurt would be damned if anything got between him and his grades.
On those afternoons, though, the panini press didn’t even cross Blaine’s mind. He had other priorities. Boyfriend-shaped priorities. In fact, he never really thought to mention his usual routine to Kurt - on those special afternoons, a simple grilled cheese might as well have been the silliest, most unimportant thing in the world.
But some afternoons, Kurt needed to go help at his dad’s shop, or Kurt was spending time with the girls from Glee club. They were friendly and welcoming enough, but they still felt like Kurt’s friends rather than his own. Blaine hadn’t quite found his independent footing yet, but he didn’t want to be too needy.
So on those afternoons, Blaine went home to his empty house and spent time by himself. He was a little lonely, sure, but he didn’t mind, not really.
At least he had his panini press and his grilled cheese.
3. Magic Bullet Blender
Kurt was ready to be in New York. Blaine didn’t realize until it was too late that he wasn’t ready for Kurt to be in New York.
It wasn’t that he ever considered asking Kurt to stay - in fact, he was the one to convince Kurt to go. Kurt had told him they’d make it work, that he was never saying goodbye to Blaine, and Blaine had whole-heartedly believed him at the time. It was just one year out of the rest of their lives, they could do it. Being with Kurt made him feel like he could do anything.
The problem was that he also hadn’t ever considered the reality of what it would be like to go to school every day, to walk the halls he walked with Kurt and sit in the choir room he sat in with Kurt and sing in the auditorium he sang in with Kurt and see Kurt, Kurt, Kurt everywhere but without Kurt.
His anchor was over 500 miles away, and Blaine didn’t prepare himself for it.
It all got out of control pretty quickly. The unanswered texts, the missed calls, the dwindling Skype movie dates, the rushed conversations about Vogue and New York. Blaine was pouring himself into his presidential campaign, but it wasn’t working. Nothing was working.
All it took was one too many nights home alone, waiting by the phone for a text he felt silly for hoping for, a text that likely wouldn’t come. His phone did illuminate, to his surprise, but the notification was from someone else. A nearly anonymous someone, a someone from Facebook, a someone that noticed him.
It snowballed before Blaine could give it a second thought. One message turned into several, turned into an address typed into his GPS and a short, anxious car ride and the most depressing makeout session of his life. It was supposed to be more, it should have been more than kissing. Blaine wanted to lose himself in the feeling of being wanted. But as soon as unfamiliar fingers ghosted his waistband, he freaked out. He called it off, he stopped it. He couldn’t even hook up right.
But the damage was done.
And Blaine didn’t know how to deal with the fallout.
A last-minute visit to New York. A tearful performance in a piano bar. A confession, a fight, tears, so many tears, the most uncomfortable night he’s ever spent with another person. He ruined it. His anchor, the love of his life, it was gone.
Blaine was back to floating. Except this time, he knew he deserved every bit of the loneliness.
He could have expected to lose himself in a traumatic breakup with the love of his life, but he couldn’t have expected who would start to pull him out of it.
It wasn’t the Glee club. It wasn’t the school musical. It was Sam.
It was his presidential-campaign-running-mate-turned-real-friend Sam, the first real friend of his own that he’d had other than Kurt in years. Kurt, his one true love, but also his irreplaceably amazing, amazing friend that he didn’t deserve to have anymore.
But Sam was fun, and he was goofy, and he was nerdy, and he helped Blaine find a side of himself he didn’t really know about before. He helped Blaine decide to stay.
It was Sam, and then it was Tina, too, and he had friends. And then Kurt called him on Thanksgiving, and Kurt missed him and Kurt loved him and they were looking to see each other at Christmas, and somehow Blaine felt like he was about to explode yet he could finally breathe again all at the same time.
Blaine was finally starting to put himself back together, finally starting to have feelings other than regret and self-hatred and general masochism.
And then his mom brought home a Magic Bullet Blender from her Black Friday shopping.
Another niche kitchen appliance, impulsively bought and destined to soon be forgotten on the kitchen counter.
Until it caught Blaine’s eye.
The novelty of the panini press had long worn off, somehow mentally tied to happier, easier days, and grilled cheeses weren’t exactly healthy anyway.
But smoothies were.
After a quick scour of the internet for recipes and a trip to the grocery store for fruit, some fresh and some frozen, Blaine was ready.
Plug in. Cut up fruit. Pour in fruit and milk and ice. Fasten the cup. Blend.
Boom.
The perfect smoothie.
The single-use aspect reminded him of his Keurig, with the meal potential offered by his panini press - but healthier.
It was easy enough. Reliable. Consistent. It was exactly what he needed.
Blaine got through the weeks of school between Thanksgiving and winter break a little easier. He felt like he had more of a place in Glee club, like he was more than just the guy who came to McKinley to be with his boyfriend and then ruined it all. He was busy with schoolwork and studying, but more than anything, he looked forward to coming home to a smoothie every afternoon. He played with the combinations, perfecting his own recipes and getting creative in the kitchen for the first time. It felt good. It felt like he had something just for himself.
So when Burt came to him and told him about his diagnosis, when Burt offered to fly him to New York to see Kurt, maybe he made a few extra smoothies in the days leading up to Christmas. Maybe he got a little more complex with the recipes and consumed more fruit than any teenage boy should.
But he felt ready. He was ready to see Kurt, ready for their annual holiday duet, ready for all of it.
By the time Regionals came around and Kurt was in town again and things were better, so much better, the Magic Bullet Blender and the smoothies had fallen by the wayside.
Instead, the ring box, steadfastly on his person at all times, reminded Blaine of everything he needed to know.
4. SodaStream
Moving to New York was supposed to be the start of their happy ending. Living together in the big city, helping each other’s independent dreams come true and supporting one another through all of it.
It was undoubtedly a happy time, but an unexpectedly chaotic one. The loft was crowded, with Kurt and Rachel and Blaine living there plus Sam crashing on the couch, too, temporarily but with no end in sight. The city was a whirlwind, and Blaine was trying to fit his new life into Kurt’s already-established one, and it was honestly hard.
Waking up next to Kurt was priceless. Blaine took every opportunity to make him breakfast in bed, his favorite pancakes, to accompany him on his commute and to spend time together on campus just like in high school. It was a dream come true for Blaine. This is what they talked about countless times, living together in the big city, sharing an apartment, being engaged.
So he wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel easy.
He still felt like a guest in the loft, for one thing. It was meant to be his own home, but it was very much Kurt-and-Rachel’s, with no room for Blaine’s Keurig or his Magic Bullet Blender or his anything, really, other than his clothes and toiletries.
It was fine, he supposed. It was all worth it to be with Kurt again, to live with Kurt, to have his anchor back.
But sometimes it felt like his anchor was pulling away from him. And he needed something for himself.
He was browsing Amazon in search of a new hair gel, just to switch things up, perhaps, when he saw it.
A SodaStream.
Sure, it wasn’t healthy like the smoothies were, or practical like the coffee was, but it looked fun and new. It was something he could have for himself.
A few days later, it was his.
Plug in. Fill with water. Insert bottle. Press. Wait.
Boom.
The perfect bottle of sparkling water. Easy to seal and keep in the fridge to pour from.
The SodaStream opened a new world of beverages for Blaine. With the flavored syrups, he could combine the creativity he discovered through smoothie-making with the ease of just having something to sip on, and the bubbles. Who could resist the bubbles?
Apparently Kurt could.
Blaine wasn’t expecting the SodaStream to be an issue. Tensions were running high, with the loft feeling more crowded by the day, plus he and Kurt were not getting any quality alone time, and now Artie had gotten robbed, and it was all feeling very overwhelming.
He wanted to do something. He wanted to help. And his rituals of coffee-making, of panini-pressing, of smoothie-blending had always brought him comfort. Wouldn’t it be nice to share it with his fiance and his friends?
Sugar-free orange was the perfect flavor. Calorie-free for Kurt’s watchful eye on his figure (plus Blaine was fully aware of his secret affinity for diet sodas), and who didn’t like orange?
Apparently Kurt didn’t. Apparently no one did.
Apparently the carbonation wasn’t good for Rachel’s voice, and Artie didn’t even seem to see that Blaine was there, Kurt wanted to throw his SodaStream out the window, and suddenly Blaine found himself making hot water with lemon instead, but they were the wrong lemons, and he can’t even serve his friends drinks right.
All he could think to do was try making a few other flavors - there had to be something Kurt would like if he would just try it - and maybe it was a little noisy but he just wanted to help.
It was the wrong choice, and he could see that Kurt was getting more frustrated, but Blaine wasn’t sure what to do. He was still trying to find his own place, his own way, and the SodaStream wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. It wasn’t comforting him like the others did.
Things happened pretty quickly after that. Blaine tried creating a workspace to have something of his own in the loft, but Kurt only got mad, and he kept talking about Elliott and it didn’t feel fair for Kurt to be sharing their personal relationship issues with another guy.
It wasn’t working, the SodaStream wasn’t working, none of it was working like how it was supposed to.
But Blaine wasn’t going to screw this up again.
If boundaries, if moving back out, if giving Kurt space was what they needed to do to protect their relationship, he would do it.
Things got worse before they got better. Kurt got gay bashed, and Blaine watched in awe as his incredibly strong fiance powered through and stood even taller than ever.
But then Blaine gained the infamous freshman 15 and felt inferior and insecure and dangerously close to floating again. He retreated into himself, making sugary soda concoctions with his SodaStream in the comfort of his own bedroom at Mercedes’s place between cronuts and cheese puffs, but it still didn’t help. It still didn’t work like it was supposed to.
It took a heartfelt, honest, difficult conversation with Kurt to finally, finally get his head on straight again. For the first time since coming to New York, Blaine felt like he had a place in the city and at NYADA, and he and Kurt were a united front, dieting together and spending a healthy amount of time together and getting along and communicating.
When Rachel moves to Los Angeles and Blaine moves back into the loft with Kurt, he leaves the SodaStream behind.
5. Instant Pot
Blaine never expected to find himself back in Lima. He never expected to find himself broken up with Kurt again, or flunked out of NYADA, or working for Dalton coaching the Warblers. He definitely didn’t expect to find himself dating Dave Karofsky. But all considering, he was doing okay.
Then Kurt came back into his life and shook it all up again.
He did his best to remain neutral, cordial. It was working fine. He moved in with Dave, and their relationship was pretty light and harmless, all things considered. Dave really had come a long way.
Things were fine, and that’s what Blaine needed right now. He wouldn’t let Kurt’s presence, or Kurt’s bluntness about being in town to get him back, or Kurt’s surprising knack for coaching the New Directions, or Kurt’s anything affect him. That wasn’t what he needed.
Instead, Blaine found himself immersed in cooking, falling into the kitchen after a days’ work to craft a home cooked meal. It was methodical, the routine that he craved, plus Dave appreciated good food more than anyone Blaine knew (maybe a little too much, at times, but Blaine took it as a compliment), but he didn’t really get why Blaine bothered.
At the center of it all was his Instant Pot, given to him by his mom as a housewarming gift.
As far as niche kitchen appliances go, it stood out to Blaine as being rather handy and multi-functional. It opened a new world of recipes, and Blaine flourished, priding himself in cooking a variety of meals and feeling like a decently well-versed home chef.
Things were getting weird with Coach Sylvester. Things felt sinister as she meddled in his life, and he suspected an ulterior motive but couldn’t figure out what or why. Things were getting weird and very complicated, and Kurt was quickly working himself back into Blaine’s life like he never left, and Blaine was feeling things again, being forced to kiss Kurt and sing with Kurt, and it was all very confusing and overwhelming and draining, culminating in him kissing Kurt of his own accord and oh god he cheated again. But this felt different, it felt right, it felt like what they both needed. It couldn’t be that easy, though, and Blaine was a whirlwind of emotions and barely even knew which way was up or down anymore. It was all too much.
But he had the Instant Pot to come home to.
Oh, and Dave, too.
Dave, who understood. Dave, who was kind and forgiving and gracious and apparently his third cousin. Dave, who ultimately set him free and seemed pretty happy to find himself a rebound, anyway.
His Instant Pot meals didn’t diminish even though he was now only cooking for himself again, but it didn’t matter. It was more about the act than the end result. He cooked more than he’d ever cooked in his life, even trying his hand at making cheesecake (Kurt’s favorite, his mind unhelpfully supplied) in the Instant Pot, and it allowed him the time to process and to think. It worked the way he needed it to.
So when Kurt showed up at his door and kissed him for real this time, Blaine was ready. He was ready to be with Kurt, ready to be his wedding date, ready for all of it.
When he was lazily feeding Kurt - his husband - freshly homemade cheesecake late at night a few weeks after attending the wedding that quickly became their own wedding, he knew he hadn’t made the cheesecake that day because he needed the comfort, the reliability that the Instant Pot offered him.
He just made it because wanted to.
+1. Air Fryer
“Blaine, why are you doing this? I beg of you, just use the oven.”
Kurt’s voice startles Blaine, breaking him from his concentration in the kitchen as he slices potatoes on the mandolin.
Blaine internally winces for a moment, anticipating bickering at best and a fight at worst. He’s been sensitive lately, the coronavirus lockdown stressing him out, especially with their baby on the way, and he picks a tinge of annoyance out of his husband’s tone. He’s not really mentally equipped to argue today.
He turns to face Kurt, feeling a bit tentative, but instantly relaxing as he catches the unmistakable fondness in Kurt’s eyes and his relaxed posture.
Blaine smiles and shrugs before turning back to his potatoes, fears of argument gone from his mind as quickly as they appeared.
“I’m telling you, Kurt. The oven doesn’t compare. They get so crispy this way,” he insists, mouth watering at the thought.
As he finishes slicing the potatoes, he feels arms wrap around his waist, and he’s pulled against Kurt’s warm, steadfast body.
“You’re distracting me,” Blaine mumbles, heaving a dramatic sigh as Kurt kisses his neck. If his heart is picking up the pace and his cheeks are heating up, he’s not going to admit it. He has work to do.
Blaine turns his head to kiss Kurt’s cheek before pulling away to plug in the air fryer.
He felt a little guilty ordering it off Amazon a few weeks prior, but Kurt had encouraged him. After five years of marriage, Blaine’s secret of having a certain attachment to niche kitchen appliances - particularly during tougher periods of his life - was out. After plenty of good-natured teasing, Kurt understood.
It’s a difficult time. There’s so much unknown, with the most of the world and the entirety of their city on lockdown for the foreseeable future. They’re out of work for the most part, grateful that they were approved for unemployment insurance to get them through financially. They’re getting along with each other nicely, though, which Blaine is grateful for. He knows that wasn’t always a given, but with regular individual therapy and intervallic couples’ check-ins, he’s proud of the work they’ve put into their relationship and the results they’ve gotten.
But Blaine knows himself well by now, and so does Kurt. They both know he’s not the best at dealing with times of major change, particularly times as uncertain as these. He’s been extra sensitive ever since everything with the virus started, prone to worrying about their health and their future and bringing a baby into this world in just a few short months.
So when he was checking Amazon yet again for hand soap and toilet paper and found the air fryer, he knew it would help. When he showed it to Kurt, Kurt knew, too. Teasing and silliness aside, they both knew it was what Blaine needed.
A couple weeks later, air fryer preheating, Blaine is fully focused on his homemade potato chips. His first forays into his air fryer weren’t wildly successful, but he’s determined for this to be a hit.
As Blaine pours his thinly sliced potatoes into the air fryer, he can see Kurt leaning against the counter, shaking his head fondly.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Blaine. You and your weird air chips. We said we’d stick to our weekly schedule the best we can so we don’t lose track of the days, and you know I only eat carbs on the weekends,” Kurt sighs. “It’s Tuesday, Blaine. Now I’m going to break out.”
Blaine laughs, spraying a light layer of oil onto the potatoes before popping the fryer shut and setting the timer.
“Just you wait, Kurt,” he assures him, turning towards his husband against the counter and resting his hands on Kurt’s hips.
“Eh! Greasy hands! These pants are designer!” Kurt squeaks, half-heartedly pushing Blaine away, but Blaine only grips tighter.
“It’s healthy. Healthier than frying, at least. You like healthy,” Blaine levels at Kurt, coming closer and kissing the corner of his mouth.
“I just don’t get how you fry something with air. How is that even possible? Are you sure it’s legal to own one of these things?” Kurt complains, tone playful. Blaine looks up to lock eyes with him, and Kurt cocks his brow.
Blaine takes it as a challenge. He’ll convert Kurt, he’s sure of it. One chip and Kurt will be singing the air fryer’s praises for the rest of lockdown.
“Well,” Blaine starts, voice falling a bit lower and eyes flicking to his husband’s lips. “All I can tell you right now is that they take ten minutes to cook.”
They both settle on exactly how to pass the time in an unspoken agreement, falling into each other with languid and lazy kisses. Kurt’s hand soon finds its way to play with Blaine’s curls, gel-free for the duration of lockdown, as Kurt insisted, other hand on the small of Blaine’s back, and Blaine feels infinitely more relaxed than he had earlier in the day.
Five years of marriage, and Kurt still held the power to turn Blaine to putty like no other. Blaine’s holding out the hope that that feeling will last forever, that Kurt will still be able to work magic on Blaine when they’re old and gray.
He’s pretty sure that’s going to happen.
Ten minutes pass more quickly than either of them would’ve liked, the timer startling them both.
Kurt shoots a playful glare at Blaine, but Blaine just shakes his head. “Just you wait,” he assures him again, perhaps a little more breathlessly this time.
Open up the fryer. Toss. Season.
Boom.
They’re perfect.
Blaine picks a chip out of the basket, waving it slightly in the air to cool it off before popping it in his mouth. It’s salty, light, airy, and crispy. It’s exactly what he was hoping for.
With a grin, Blaine digs back into the basket to offer one to Kurt.
“C’mon Kurt, try one. They’re good,” he sings, waving it near Kurt’s frowning mouth.
“I just don’t get it,” Kurt says resolutely, though his eyes are sparkling. Putting up a challenge, Blaine knows.
“It’s light. It’s airy. It’s crispy. It’s the perfect chip,” Blaine insists, popping the offending chip into his own mouth with a happy little noise. “Seasoned just right. Not too salty.”
Blaine reaches into the basket a third time, this time pulling out a handful. “C’mon,” he whines again. “I feel like a real chef over here, humor me.”
“God forbid they give you a show on Food Network,” Kurt grumbles, but opens his mouth for a chip.
Blaine watches him excitedly, no doubt in his mind. This is the perfect chip.
Crunch. Chew. Swallow. Sigh. Groan.
“That was probably the best chip I’ve ever had on a Tuesday,” Kurt admits begrudgingly, rolling his eyes and failing to hide his laughter as Blaine whoops and does a dance around the kitchen.
Blaine’s victory dance turns into Blaine pulling Kurt into his arms to join him, as it so often does, and he grins as he watches his husband’s resolve crumble before his very eyes. All thoughts of the difficulties in the world vanished from his mind for the moment as he enjoys his husband and his chips in his kitchen. There’s no place he’d rather be.
Blaine won in the end. Kurt’s finally, finally in support of the air fryer. Kurt gets it.
Okay, maybe he’s only eaten one chip so far, but Blaine knows Kurt’s well on his way to believing in the power of the niche kitchen appliance. The air fryer might even be the best, most powerful one of all.
It did exactly what it was supposed to do.