Kurt is currently having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. The battery of his alarm clock had died and he'd slept too long; it's raining in New York and he's been running around the city all day long, meeting a few clients and looking for very specific fabrics; Rachel is going on and on about those stupid anonymous letters and sending him annoying text messages every ten minutes (or trying to call him but he refuses to answer – he's already busy, thank you very much); he was supposed to meet his agent later today but Wes had cancelled for some reason; and he should have already finished the sketches for his new show yesterday but he hadn't and he really should be working on them right now. Instead he's dragging a shopping bag full of fabrics with him in the pouring rain because he couldn't find a taxi in this weather and his last client wasn't kind enough to wait for five minutes and give him a ride. Naturally.

In addition, his new amazing shoes might be ruined because of the rain. Well, at least he didn't put on his best coat in the morning. Small mercies. He's feeling so annoyed that the mercies are almost tiny at this point.

He finds a moment's refuge in a coffee shop, shaking his umbrella dry at the door before making his way inside. The shop isn't crowded – small mercies, once again – so he gets his mocha faster than expected and retreats to a quiet corner near the window.

Coffee shops really should have more tables for just one person.

Kurt does damage inspection first, letting his coffee cool down for a moment. His shoes might be salvageable if he tends to them immediately, and the fabrics in his shopping bag are still dry (thank goodness, because he really needs that charmeuse to be on its best condition and it is dry-clean only). If he drinks his coffee as fast as he can and manages to get a taxi, he'll still have time to finish his sketches tonight. He has eight unanswered calls and eleven new text messages from Rachel – oh, and one voice mail. Kurt ignores Rachel’s messages and listens to his voice mail instead.

"Kurt, it's Wes. Can you please answer Rachel? She keeps calling me when she doesn't reach you, and I'm sort of in the middle of something, something involving you actually, but I think she should be the one to tell you what's going on. Just... Let me just say that it was Rachel's idea and she practically forced me to follow through. Okay? Okay. Please answer her."

That sounds ominous. Rachel is Kurt's dear friend and he loves that girl – god help him – but she is way too enthusiastic way too often, and Kurt has a dreadful feeling that whatever Rachel has come up with has something to do with those notes he's been getting. There have really been only four letters so far, and Kurt thinks they're harmless: some shy fan who doesn't want to use his or her name telling how special Kurt is and how unique his designs are. There were a few odd lines about wanting to touch his hair or wishing to meet him someday, but really, Kurt was a pretty obsessive personality himself when he was younger, and still is in some cases, so he hadn't batted an eyelash at the notes.

He was the one who dreamed of giving Cooper Anderson's bicep a firm squeeze when he was in high school. He has no right to judge anyone else for being an obsessive fan.

Rachel, however, had gone crazy. At first Kurt had thought that Rachel was just jealous. They'd both gotten their big breaks around the same time, Kurt getting his first bigger production and Rachel her first bigger role, but Rachel hadn't mentioned receiving any fan letters yet, so perhaps she was just throwing a tantrum in a very Rachel Berry-esque way. But then she'd brought the letters to Wes and kept going on and on about how Kurt had a crazy stalker who was going to attack him someday soon – her eyes had gotten that weird glint in them – and Kurt had realized that she was actually serious about the whole thing.

He himself finds the notes flattering, that's all. He came to New York to be himself, to show everyone what Kurt Hummel's made of, to make it big time, and the anonymous notes are the first sign that he's making a difference. Kurt Hummel, a bullied gay kid from Lima, Ohio, is making a difference in the theater world, giving the finger to everyone who ever doubted him. Excuse him if he isn’t having a heart attack because of four anonymous notes.

His phone rings again when he's almost finished with his coffee. It's Rachel, and this time he answers – more because of Wes' request than anything else. He feels bad for Wes more often than he'd like to admit.

"Rachel," he greets her, keeping his voice level.

"Kurt! Oh my god, I've been trying to reach you all day!" Rachel almost screams in his ear.

"Yes, so I heard from Wes who you've also been harassing."

"Psh, he deserves it. Are you going home soon? I have something to tell you and it's urgent."

Kurt sighs, suddenly having the urge to say no and stay in this quiet coffee shop for the rest of the day, alone and without any distractions. But if he doesn't deal with Rachel now, he'll have to deal with her later. "I was going to finish my coffee and then go home to work on my sketches for the rest of the day, but I guess I could squeeze you and your urgent matters in there somewhere."

"Great! I'm actually already at your apartment and Wes should be here anytime soon, and I need to talk to you before he gets here. So can you please hurry? Love you!"

Rachel hangs up before he gets the chance to answer, and for a moment Kurt regrets giving Rachel a key to his new apartment. Then again, he also has the key to Rachel's apartment, so perhaps it makes them even. He stares at his empty coffee cup, wondering why Wes is also coming to his apartment and what could be so important that he has to skip his sketches for a while. Rachel knows how serious he is about his work.

Kurt sighs and gathers up his bag and umbrella. Better get this whole thing over with so that he can actually do some work today. Hopefully the taxis are more welcoming after his coffee break.

-

Cooper had driven Blaine to the airport, given him a breath-stopping hug and told him to have fun and behave himself. Blaine had snorted and wiped a lone tear from his cheek. He is going to miss Coop, miss his easy smile and intense pointing. He'd told that to Cooper who had only hugged him again, this time even more tightly. There might have been tears glistening in Cooper's eyes, but Blaine's not completely sure and he didn't want to ask.

Blaine stares at the clouds from his seat in the plane, humming songs to himself and feeling some of his worries leaving him. Distance. Distraction. Two things he didn't even know he needed, but now that he's going somewhere where he can hopefully have them both he feels lighter than he has in months. Maybe even in years. Or maybe the plane-ride's just making him light-headed. He hasn't been in a plane for a long time.

In any case, he smiles broadly to the stewardess and asks her if she could bring him a cup of coffee.

It's raining in New York when he gets there, but Blaine still thinks it's the most beautiful city he has ever seen. Wes picks him up at the airport and hugs him like they're still in high school. Blaine keeps saying that he can't believe he's in New York, how he's regretting that he didn't apply to NYU all those years ago, and Wes just shakes his head fondly at him. They take a taxi to Wes' office and Blaine talks the whole ride through, shutting up only when Wes makes a brief phone call to Blaine's future client, who, according to the voice mail Wes leaves, doesn't apparently know about Blaine yet. This could get awkward.

"I thought we could go over a few things here, give Rachel some time to explain everything to Kurt, and then go to Kurt's apartment to meet him, if that's okay?" Wes asks when they're finally inside his office, away from the grey skies and pouring rain.

"Sure." Blaine is immediately reminded that he isn't here for a vacation; he's here to work, to protect a costume designer on Broadway who's getting anonymous letters. He's not just admiring the city or living out his teenage dreams, so he shakes his head and concentrates. "What did you want to go over?"

"Well, I guess I could show you those notes. Rachel – she's Kurt's friend, the one that forced me to hire you – gave them back to me because she thought Kurt wasn't taking them seriously." Wes hands him a small pile of papers.

Blaine thumbs through the letters. There are four typed notes, all of them looking perfectly discreet and formal, and they don't even sound that dangerous. Mostly there are just a lot of words praising Kurt's designs and even his... voice?

"I thought you said he was a designer?" Blaine asks.

"Well, yes, but he does have a pretty unique voice. Costume design is his passion, but he's sung at different events every now and then and was actually asked to sing at this charity concert in a few months. He's a countertenor," Wes explains.

Blaine whistles. "Countertenor. Geez, we could've won those Regionals with a countertenor."

"I know!" Wes exclaims, his voice disappointed.

Blaine skims through the words and sentences again, and then gives them back to Wes. "Well, I'm obviously not an expert, but they don't sound that bad. There are a few sentences that seem a bit weird – especially the one about wanting to touch his hair – but even Cooper's gotten weirder messages from his fans."

"That's what I said to Rachel, but she wouldn't listen." Wes furrows his brows. "Kurt did just get his big break – he got to do the costumes for a new production of Cabaret last summer – so he's getting more publicity and fan letters are a natural consequence of that. But let's look on the bright side! You being here will calm Rachel down, save Kurt from a possibly crazy stalker and give you a job. So no complaining." Wes hits his desk with his fist, trying to sound encouraging, and then winces.

"Miss the gavel?" Blaine asks sympathetically.

Wes sighs. "Everyday."

-

Kurt Hummel lives on a surprisingly calm street in a neighborhood that Blaine for obvious reasons does not recognize. There's a doorman on the ground floor of the building and a fitted carpet that Blaine's feet sink into. The walls are polished and shining even in the dull grey light that filters into the lobby through the glass doors, and Blaine tries not to gawk although he's never been to an apartment building like this before.

"The perks of getting a name in the Broadway circles," Wes explains when they're taking the elevator to the ninth floor where Kurt's apartment is. To Blaine's surprise Wes has a key, but when he asks about it, Wes says that Kurt had just moved in a few weeks ago and gave Wes the key to help him make some arrangements with the movers.

They step into the apartment. It seems big and spacious, almost like Cooper's house in apartment form – with more tasteful and expensive-looking furniture. There are framed posters on the walls of the hallway, and Blaine, lurking behind Wes, has the temptation to look at them a bit more closely. He doesn't have the chance though, because Wes hollers into the apartment and a dark-haired woman appears in the doorway that presumably leads to the kitchen.

"Kurt, is it – oh, it's you, Wesley! Finally, I've been waiting for you all day long!"

The short brunette walks up to them, her eyes blazing with determination. Blaine thinks she looks a bit scary. Maybe his future client is going to need protection from her, not from some anonymous fan.

"Rachel," Wes sighs, sounding long-suffering. He hates his full name, and for that reason Blaine's never called him with it. "It's only a few minutes after four in the afternoon. It's impossible to wait all day long if it's only four."

The woman – Rachel – waves her hand in the air, brushing Wes' words aside. "You get my point. Where's this bodyguard you promised will keep Kurt safe?"

"I never promised –" Wes starts, but Blaine interrupts him by raising his hand and stepping in sight from behind Wes.

"That would be me," he says, and the ensuing look on Rachel's face is the most priceless and comical thing he has ever seen.

"You?" She sounds disbelieving, and if Blaine was more self-conscious about his looks or his clothes, he would feel annoyed. He's wearing a grey henley shirt, a red cardigan and dark jeans – no bowtie this time because he wanted to look more serious – and he knows he looks perfectly fine, so he just stares right back at Rachel, noticing that her dress has pictures of purses on it. It looks nice.

Rachel seems to snap out of her confusion when Blaine doesn't react and shakes her head. "I mean, no offence, you look fine, very dapper and like a gentleman and so on but just not very... bodyguard-y." She gestures to him with her hands.

"Rachel, that's the whole idea." Wes sighs again. "What do you think it would look like if Kurt had a man the size of a closet walking next to him in events? Those notes haven't been violent, and Kurt's already going to hate this whole thing..."

"But how is he supposed to protect Kurt? He's actually shorter than him," Rachel points out. She has a very loud voice, but Blaine manages to hide his surprised flinch.

"Look, I've known Blaine since high school, he's my best friend and he was my best-man, and I trust him completely. He has experience from this kind of work..."

Once again Rachel interrupts Wes, but this time she's staring at Blaine, her eyes narrowed. "You do? Who have you protected before?"

"Well, mostly my brother and some of his friends..." Blaine starts, only to get interrupted by Rachel.

"Your brother? So you've never ever protected a complete stranger? Do you even... Do you even know how to fight?" she asks uncertainly, as if she doesn't really know what bodyguards are supposed to do.

Blaine blinks, and the brief hesitation in Rachel's voice is the moment he starts to understand her and the way she's acting. She seems to think her friend's anonymous fan is a complete lunatic, and she's clearly feeling out of her depth but still trying to do the best she can. Blaine can relate to that. Wes did show the messages to him – they were weird, but there was never any threat in them, only wishes of meeting the amazing Kurt Hummel one day and shaking his hand, like they were written by someone who likes to admire people from afar. The weirdest thing was that they were anonymous. Blaine remembers seeing Cooper's fan letters, and they were always signed, at least in some way.

"I've boxed since I was fourteen, and I have taken several self-defense courses, but I don't think..." Blaine explains, keeping his voice level and calm.

Rachel straightens. "Boxing? Since you were fourteen?" Her eyes flash back to Wes, her voice lowering to a whisper. "Does he have anger issues?"

Blaine laughs. "No, I don't. I'm gay."

Rachel furrows her brows. "Gays can have anger issues as well. I have two gay dads, and while they don't have anger issues, they certainly do get angry at people being idiots and not seeing how talented other people are, and there was once this dancer who..."

"No, I meant..." Blaine interrupts her. "I meant that I was bullied. And that's why I took up boxing, why I took self-defense courses when I was in college. I like to keep myself and others safe."

"Oh." Rachel relaxes a little, her eyes softening but still looking Blaine over curiously. Maybe this is the first time her friend has gotten anonymous messages and she's freaking out, and Blaine gets it, he does. He's a worrier himself. He gets worried every time Cooper says he'll call and doesn't, and Rachel seems like a sweet girl and a good friend – but Blaine is not ready to tell her all of his history just to convince her that he knows what he's doing.

Especially since he doesn't exactly know what he's doing. He's not a professional bodyguard, but Wes seems convinced that he's the best choice.

"Look, Rachel, those notes weren't exactly worrisome," Wes says, letting Blaine off the hook. Rachel opens her mouth, but Wes continues before she gets a word out. "Everyone even a little bit famous gets letters like that. Blaine can keep Kurt safe, I know he can, but he also doesn't attract too much attention to himself like a bulky bodyguard would. You're both new to this whole celebrity thing, and you're not that famous, not yet, so imagine what the press would think if Kurt suddenly had a huge bodyguard following him everywhere. It just attracts unwanted attention. Not all publicity is good publicity, especially in the theater circles."

Rachel puffs her cheeks and then looks at Blaine again. "So you know what you're doing, at least well enough?"

Blaine nods, trying to look confident. If there was ever a time to conjure up the old spirit of the lead vocalist of the Warblers, it's now.

"And you're serious about this whole thing?" Rachel asks.

"I always take people's safety seriously," Blaine answers (even though he didn't, not that one final time, and he will always have to live with it).

Rachel sighs. "Well, I guess you'll do, if Wesley has so much faith in you."

Wes rolls his eyes. "I do. Like I said, he's –"

The lock on the door turns behind them. For a second or two Blaine feels sorry for Wes for never getting to finish his sentences, but then the door opens and a man with coiffed brown hair and a drenched coat steps inside. He has a beat-up umbrella and a shopping bag dangling from his hands, but Blaine barely notices them, staring at the man instead. He has startling eyes and broad shoulders narrowing down to long legs, and his clothes look like they cost way too much but are definitely worth every cent. They make him look breath-taking, accentuating his height, his slenderness and all the right details even if the clothes are currently soaked up with rain water. The man seems tired and annoyed, but he's still standing tall and graceful, and Blaine doesn't think he could even come up with any bland words to describe him.

He's beautiful. That's all Blaine can think of, and he would give anything to see him smile.

The man, however, is currently looking quite surprised by the three people standing in the hallway, arching his eyebrow in question.

"What's going on?" he asks warily, closing the door behind him.

"Kurt, you're home!" Rachel shrieks enthusiastically and claps her hands together.

The name has barely had time to register in Blaine's head when he immediately stops his train of thought about how kissable the man's lips look. Blaine has always had the habit of falling fast and hard; it's been his mistake several times and he should already know better. Kurt, Kurt Hummel that is, is Blaine's possible client. He might not even be gay, and even if he is, Blaine shouldn't... Blaine is not going to fall for his client. He's not going to fall for anyone, he's not going to have feelings for anyone he's supposed to protect.

He is just going to keep Kurt – no, Mr. Hummel sounds better and more distant, Mr. Hummel sounds like Blaine knows what he's doing – he's just going to keep Mr. Hummel safe from everyone, including from Blaine himself, until the notes stop or he isn't needed anymore, and then he'll go back to LA, back to the punching bag in Cooper's basement. Back to the life of minor distractions and old women trying to grab Coop's arm.

Blaine knows one thing about himself for sure: he's good at keeping people safe and helping them – unless he starts to care too much. Cooper is the only exception to that rule, mostly because Cooper protects Blaine as well. He's not going to even try and find out if Kurt Hummel could be the only other exception. He could fail if he did that, and if there's one thing Blaine has promised himself, made himself promise after he fucked up, it's that he's never going to fail again.

He's never going to fail Kurt Hummel. Neither of them can afford it.