There's obviously some sort of a meeting going on in Kurt's hallway when he comes home. Rachel is clapping her hands nervously, her eyes darting to Wes who looks like he would rather be anywhere else than here. There's also another man that Kurt has never seen before. His eyes lock with the man's, and for a brief moment a shy smile appears on the man's lips until it vanishes quickly, as if Kurt had imagined it, and the man averts his eyes. He has interesting eyes, Kurt notes – their color is beautiful, and they're expressive and kind but with a clear curtain covering... something. Like some sort of reserve dimming the light in the man's eyes.

Kurt has no idea who the man is, but he has to admit the man's quite gorgeous with his long eyelashes, short curly hair and quick smile. He looks surprisingly comfortable, like someone who can accept any situation life throws at him. Perhaps he's some new friend of Rachel's – Rachel is constantly meeting new people and dragging them everywhere with her – who has walked in on a shouting match between Rachel and Wes, and if he is, Kurt feels sorry for him. They aren't exactly shouting matches; usually it's Rachel who shouts while Wes sighs multiple times sounding incredibly long-suffering.

The silence is just starting to get awkward, everyone staring at each other and no one in particular after Rachel's exclamation, when Wes finally opens his mouth.

"Rachel. I think you should explain. In private."

"Oh. Oh!" Rachel’s eyes widen. "Yes, of course. Kurt, could you come with me for a moment? I'm sure you can wait in the living room." She says the last bit to Wes and the mystery man, who both nod and disappear towards the living room.

Rachel drags Kurt into the kitchen where Kurt unceremoniously dumps his bag on the counter. His umbrella had given up after a strong gust of wind, so he just drops it on the floor, deciding to deal with it later.

"How's your day been?" Rachel asks cheerily, obviously avoiding something. Kurt knows Rachel; he knows when she's trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

"It's been awful so far, Rachel, so I'd suggest you tell me right now what Wes and another man I've never met before are doing in my living room and why the mood is so awkward that I'd gladly go back to the pouring rain to avoid it," Kurt sighs, stretching his shoulders.

"Oh, that another man is Blaine! I didn't get a chance ask his last name yet. Anyway, he's Wes' friend and he's... Uh." Rachel stops suddenly, bowing her head and wringing her hands. "Promise me you won't get mad?"

Kurt feels a cold weight drop into his stomach. "Rachel, what did you do?"

"Well, it's about those letters you've been getting..."

"Rachel. Who is Blaine and what is he doing here? Just spit it out."

Rachel stops wringing her hands and stands straight, getting her determination back. "Fine. I'm just going to say it because I don't regret what I've done and never will, not one bit. You're my best friend and I want you to be safe, so... Blaine is your new bodyguard."

The whole apartment falls silent. Kurt stares at Rachel for a while and then promptly bursts out laughing. His whole body bends in half with laughter, but Rachel keeps staring at him, her defiant expression not faltering.

When Kurt finally notices the look in her eyes his laughter dies out. "Rachel. Are you serious? Please tell me you're just joking? Tell me you didn't actually get me a bodyguard?"

"Well, technically Wes did..."

"Rachel Berry. Did. You. Get. Me. A. Bodyguard?" Kurt can hear his voice getting louder with each word and the conversation isn't exactly private anymore, but he's also getting more and more frustrated. He needs Rachel to say no, he needs her to say that of course she didn't get him a bodyguard, she was just joking and Blaine's just some random (admittedly gorgeous) stranger who's in town to see Wes or Rachel or anyone and that's all and –

"I did," Rachel simply says.

"You're insane." Rachel opens her mouth to protest, but Kurt raises his hand to stop her. "No, this time you really are. I get four anonymous letters and you get me a bodyguard? If this is some sort of a twisted jealousy plot because you haven't gotten any fan letters yet I swear –"

"Kurt!" Rachel yelps, sounding scandalized. "For the record, I have actually gotten fan letters – but even if I hadn't, I would never do something like that! Or maybe I would have, in the past, but not now. Not anymore, I swear! I'm just worried about you, Kurt. There was something off in those letters, and you have awfully many events coming up, and while I almost always have a date for that kind of things, you're always so alone and vulnerable and I can't always be your date and..."

"So you got me a bodyguard so that I could hook up with him? So that I could force him to be my date?" Kurt hears a muffled gasp from the living room and decides to ignore it.

"No!" Rachel tries to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder but Kurt flinches away. "I – I didn't mean it like that! I just meant that you don't have anyone to protect you from over-excited fans at different events. You don't have to be his friend or even like him, but you have to admit that it would be nice to have someone beside you when the crowd gets too rough, someone to guide you away and make sure everyone behaves well." She suddenly sounds desperate. "Kurt, please don’t hate me."

"Unfortunately for me I could never hate you, but I am seriously pissed off at you right now. I'm not vulnerable, Rachel," Kurt spits out. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest, trying to stay calm and keep his voice lower. He certainly doesn't want his bodyguard (ugh, he hates that word already) to hear everything. "Did Wes agree to this?"

Rachel wavers. "He did, after some... cajoling."

"Did you threaten to find another agent once again?"

"I might've said something like that." Rachel at least has the decency to look sheepish for a moment. "But he did agree and he said that it's better to be safe than sorry, and right before you came home he was telling me that even though Blaine isn't a professional, he has some experience from bodyguard work and he can keep you safe but he also won't attract too much attention. So maybe you can just pretend that he's your... assistant?"

Kurt scoffs at Rachel's hopeful tone. "Yeah, my assistant who will beat up anyone who tries to come too close."

Rachel bites her lip. "He said he didn't... I asked him if he had anger issues and he said he didn't."

Kurt may not like this idea, but he feels a bang of regret when he imagines the interrogation Rachel must have put Blaine through. Rachel means well, but she can be a bit too much, especially to a stranger. He thinks about Blaine's kind eyes and shy smile and can't really see him beating up anyone without a really good reason.

"Kurt? What are you thinking?"

Rachel's voice still sounds hopeful, and Kurt sighs. "I don't know what to think. I've already had an awful day, and now I come home to find out that I suddenly have a bodyguard who's supposed to follow me everywhere for... I don't even know for how long!" He knows his voice is getting strained again, frustrated and tired, and he doesn't care, not right now.

"Kurt..." Rachel takes a step towards him but is interrupted by a soft cough from the doorway.

It's Blaine, clutching a satchel that Kurt hadn't noticed before and looking both of them with calm eyes, as if he's heard the entire conversation – he probably did, Kurt muses – but doesn't mind it.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say that... Um." Blaine pauses, tilting his head before starting again. "Look, I'm not really a professional bodyguard. I certainly don't look like the part, and I don't like hurting people. So I won't be, quote unquote, beating anyone up."

Kurt cringes at the words, even though Blaine is grinning when he says them. He had sort of hoped that Blaine hadn't heard that particular part of the conversation.

"And because I'm not a professional," Blaine continues, "and because Wes showed me the notes, I don't think I have to follow you around everywhere. At least not unless you think it's necessary. I can help you in events and such but... If you think that you don't need me, I can just leave and that's it. No hard feelings."

Blaine gives Kurt a calming, almost professional smile, but with that one simple expression Kurt suddenly feels all the fight leave him, making him feel calm and... protected. Safe. He stops, blinking his eyes as he stares at Blaine. Only his dad and one of his former boyfriends have been able to do that, and Kurt almost shivers at the thought that this man, this complete stranger managed to do that just a few moments after meeting him for the first time. It should be scary, coming so undone with just one smile, but Kurt finds he doesn't actually mind it. There's something about Blaine that makes him feel like everything will be alright, like he can say what he wants and no one will judge him for it.

Kurt runs his fingers through his still damp hair, trying to concentrate. "I just... This is a lot to process, especially after the day I've had. I don't think I need a bodyguard, but Rachel seems pretty insistent and if she's even managed to convince Wes... I don't know."

Blaine nods, his eyes understanding. "I get it. Look, I've never been to New York, so how about I spend a few days here, being a complete tourist and giving you some time to think, and then you can tell me what you want to do, whether you think you need me or not. Does that sound better?"

He seems so kind and considerate that Kurt has a hard time imagining him as a stereotypical bodyguard for anyone, but he nods anyway. "Yes. That sounds a lot better than having to deal with this today."

"Okay." Blaine looks over his shoulder to where Kurt can see Wes pacing and talking to his phone. "We'll leave you to it then. I'm sure you can contact me through Wes when you reach your decision, Mr. Hummel."

He gives an awkward wave and disappears down the hall. Wes follows him, continuing his phone call and giving Kurt and Rachel a nod of acknowledgement, and soon they hear the door open and close.

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Did he just call me Mr. Hummel?"

Rachel shrugs. "How are you feeling?" she asks and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"Tired. And I should really be working on those sketches right now, instead of thinking about this whole mess." Kurt drops his hand, only now realizing that he's still wearing his drenched coat. "Just tell me one thing. How did Wes even find him so quickly?" he asks, shrugging off his coat and wincing when he sees the state of his shoes.

"Oh, apparently he's Wes' best friend and best-man." Rachel takes the coat from him and goes to hang it before Kurt can stop her.

"Huh." Kurt blinks. "That's... convenient, I suppose."

Rachel comes back when he's inspecting his shoes more closely. "Are you mad at me?" she asks carefully.

Kurt sighs. "I don't know. I just want to finish those sketches, get a good night's sleep and think about this whole bodyguard situation tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay." Rachel nods and stands on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I won't say I'm sorry because I'm not, but I'm going to leave you to your sketches now. Call me if you need anything?"

Kurt nods and stands still in the kitchen until he hears Rachel's footsteps disappear down the hallway and out the door, until the door slams closed behind her and the apartment falls silent. He thinks about his sketches and the fabrics still in the bag on his kitchen counter, trying to ignore the thoughts of Blaine's kind smile and guarded eyes but failing miserably.

-

The next day he calls his dad, blurting out "Rachel got me a bodyguard" and then spending the next thirty minutes trying to calm Burt down and convince him that no, he's not in any danger, he has just gotten a few anonymous letters and that's all.

"So why did Rachel get you a bodyguard then?" Burt asks once he's somewhat calmer and not threatening to come to New York immediately.

"I guess she just got really worried? I don't know, I didn't really think anything of those notes, but she seems to have taken them as a sign of a crazy stalker who's just waiting for his opportunity to whack me off." Kurt laughs.

"Not funny, Kurt."

Kurt grimaces. Okay, no awkward jokes then. "Sorry, Dad. But I honestly don't know. She said something about having someone with me during different events and such, someone to 'make sure everyone behaves' was the word choice she used, so..."

Burt grunts in agreement. "Well, what do you think?"

Kurt flops down on his sofa, staring at the white ceiling of his apartment, absent-mindedly wishing it had cracks so he could imagine different patterns and forms on it, like he did when he was little and still lived with his Dad. "The answer to that would be I don't know as well. Getting a bodyguard hadn't even crossed my mind, but Rachel is hell-bent on it, and even Wes seems to agree, so..."

Burt chuckles. "I don't want to know what Rachel or Wes think, Kurt, I want to know what you think."

"Oh." Kurt stays silent for a while, thinking. "I guess it could be nice to have someone making sure that I'm safe. But at the same time the idea of having someone constantly there, hovering right behind my shoulder and telling me where to go... It just makes my blood boil. It's not what I came here for. But it's made even more difficult by the fact that Blaine definitely doesn't match the image I have in my head of a bodyguard and –"

"Wait, who's Blaine?" Burt interrupts.

"Oh, right, sorry. He's the... the bodyguard." Saying that Blaine is a bodyguard still makes Kurt cringe. Somehow he just can't connect the boy – man, really – standing in the kitchen doorway and smiling kindly at him with the word bodyguard. "He's Wes' friend, and I met him yesterday, right before Rachel told me everything."

"What's he like then?"

"I didn't really talk to him that much, but he seemed... nice? He was the one who suggested that I should think it through and then let him know what I decide. I guess it's a relief that he doesn't look like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Kevin Costner, and he's not a professional bodyguard, which means that the protecting wouldn't be so strict and conventional either." Kurt snorts. "Rachel actually said that I could pretend he's my assistant."

"Well, if you want my opinion..." Burt starts, and Kurt straightens his back.

"I do, Dad, that's why I called you – I feel like this whole thing is just a mess and I have no idea what to do."

"I'm sure that's not true, Kurt. You always figure things out." Kurt can hear the fond smile in his dad's voice, until Burt clears his voice. "I mean, personally I don't see any harm in getting a bodyguard or an assistant or whatever you want to call him. Especially if you could discuss the terms of the arrangement with this Blaine guy and make sure that you feel comfortable with them." Burt's voice grows tender. "I just want to you be safe, Kurt. But you're an adult, so I won't tell you what to do with your life. You're gonna have to make up your mind by yourself. Think it through – do you really think you need a bodyguard and if you do, is this Blaine the right one for the job. I can't really tell you anything else."

Kurt feels the pressure of tears behind his eyes, and god, this is ridiculous. He's a grown man, for goodness' sake. "It's alright, Dad. I just needed someone to talk to, someone other than Rachel." He can hear someone yelling in the background, and Burt sighs resignedly. "Look Dad, I'll let you get back to work. I'll let you know what happens, okay?"

"You do that. I love you, Kurt."

"Love you too, Dad." Kurt hangs up and smiles to himself for a moment. Fine, he might be twenty-four, a grown man with his own apartment and a job and a mountain of work to do – but somehow he's still his father's little boy who feels better every time he gets to hear his dad's input.

He spends the rest of the day doing various chores around his apartment: putting the last of his office furniture in place since he hasn't been particularly active in making his new apartment a home yet, answering to e-mails and sending his finished sketches to the director so that she can approve them. Every now and then his mind drifts back to Blaine. Wes had texted him Blaine's number last night, saying that whatever Kurt chooses to do he will respect it, and Kurt entertains the idea of calling Blaine and saying yes just so he could see the curly-haired man once again, before he almost slaps himself because of how ridiculous the whole idea is. He's the first to admit that Blaine is good-looking and that his kind smile had done things to Kurt's mind and body that he would rather not think about when he's this busy already. He doesn't even know if Blaine is gay. He doesn't know anything about him.

Rachel sends him a text as well when he's having Chinese take-out for dinner, repeating that she's worried about him and that she hopes he isn't angry anymore. Kurt reads the message over and over again, trying to remember everything he can about the anonymous letters, but he still doesn't think they're actually dangerous or even threatening. He likes his independence – his last serious relationship was in college, and even though he sometimes misses the idea of having someone in his life, someone to hold and to wake up next to, he likes living on his own, doing everything on his own and attending events on his own. He doesn't need someone to hold his hand or to be his date – or to push him away from enthusiastic fans. He can do that himself.

When he wakes up the next morning he's ninety-nine percent sure that he's going to call Blaine in the afternoon and tell him to go back to wherever it is he lives. Well, not tell him, but let him know that his assistance isn't needed. He almost feels a bit bad since Blaine was obviously dragged here because of him, but it isn't really his fault that Rachel gets crazy ideas.

He's going through his mail in the kitchen and thinking about how Rachel is going to react after he tells her (it will probably involve lots of yelling and slammed doors and other dramatic reactions), when a discreet envelope catches his eye in the middle of all the bills and magazines. The plain white envelope just has his name and address on it, a stamp in the upper corner without any mention of who sent it. Curious, he opens the letter.

He has barely read the first few lines – Dear Mr. Kurt Hummel, I am writing again to tell you that after seeing your costumes in the new production of Cabaret last August... – when he realizes that it's him (or her, for that matter). His anonymous fan sending him a note once again. The fifth note, eerily similar to the previous ones.

Except this time the letter arrived to his home address. His relatively new and extremely private home address.

All the other letters had come to Wes' office, as does everything else that concerns Kurt's career before Wes forwards them to his home address. It's a deal they made when Wes became his agent, to keep Kurt's private life somewhat separate from his career. It's not a secret that Wes is his agent, and the address of his office is fairly easy to find. Kurt's home address on the other hand... He doesn't throw his address around. He likes to keep his private life private, even if he's not that famous, and only people close to him know his real address or are even aware that he's recently moved.

Yet here it is, an anonymous letter sitting among his other mail, sent straight to his home address. To an address an anonymous fan shouldn't be able to know.

Kurt feels a sense of dread fall in his stomach, a cold shiver running up his spine, and he can almost hear Rachel saying how she thought there was something off in those letters. It feels like his privacy has been violated, like he isn't suddenly alone in his own home anymore; it feels awful and scary and confusing, and it reminds him too much of the last time someone broke into his personal space, of smelly locker rooms and unwanted affections.

Kurt's going to be sick.

He drops the letter on the table like it burns, swallowing against the bile in his throat, and oh god, if they know his home address, what else do they know? Is the anonymous fan actually a stalker? Has Kurt been stupid and naïve and too trusting? He skims through the rest of the letter, not touching the white piece of paper again, but the words sound as innocent as ever, even more so if possible, like they're mocking him and trying to persuade him that everything is fine and well and dandy, as if the room doesn't suddenly seem darker and as if Kurt doesn't have the sudden urge to bolt his windows and hide under his kitchen table. As if he doesn't feel safe in his own home, the one place that should always be his comfort zone.

This is not okay.

-

Blaine is having breakfast with Wes and Sarah in their bright kitchen, laughing at some story Sarah told them, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It's an unknown number, so he smiles apologetically to his hosts and takes the phone with him to the guest room. Phone calls from an unknown number have always made him nervous – almost every time it's just a telemarketer or one of Cooper's friends asking him to help them out at some event, but he can't shake the feeling that unknown numbers mean something bad has happened.

So he furrows his brows and answers hesitantly, "Blaine."

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and then he hears Kurt's trembling voice. "I've made up my mind."

Kurt's voice sounds scratchy and nervous, and Blaine feels his fears intensify tenfold, his hand gripping the phone tightly. Luckily some sane part of his brain snaps at him to stay calm and professional because him freaking out won't help at all. "Mr. Hummel," he says, like calming a scared animal. "What's wrong?"

"I... I think I do need a bodyguard."