"Good morning Clara," I say tiredly as I walk pass her. "I need to know my schedule."

"Sure," she says as she follows me into my office. She has on a sinfully tight black pencil skirt and a white silk blouse with a deep plunge neckline. I can feel the male workers molesting her with their eyes.

Yes, this was the reason why I hired a hot, female assistant instead. I have no interest to fuck her, which is good so I won't be sued for sexual harassment, and also because the straight guys can watch in envy.

"You have the ten o'clock staff meeting, lunch with your mother, at two you have to hear Bryan's proposition to progress stocks in China at four." Clara tells.

"Lunch with my mother? How did that happen?" I ask, knowing full well I would never agree to lunch with my disapproving, shrilly impossible and judgmental mother- well, at least not sober.

"She called me earlier and asked me to squeeze her in. I'm sorry what am I suppose to do! She's my boss's boss's wife," Clara smirks.

"You're suppose to tell her I flew off to London!"

"Was that lie this week? I'm sorry I can't keep up with your constant dodging excuses from your mother."

"Fine, but make sure I have a few drinks before I have to do lunch."

"Eleven o'clock scotch break, got it," she pretends to pencil that down.

"Anything else?"

"No," she says, doing one last scan down my itinerary. "Do you need me for anything else?"

"Not right now, thanks. And that neckline is too low."

"Since when does my outfit bother you? Are you finally a breast man?" she laughs.

"No, but Bryan is," I say.

"Fine. Let me know if you need anything," she wavers as she leaves.

My phone rings then and I check the caller ID. It's Kurt, on a Monday morning. Rare considering he barely calls these days- thank you Gabe.

"Hello?" I say cautiously.

"Why do you sound like you don't know me?" he's laughing.

"Because I don't these days," I laugh in return.

"Don't joke about our relationship. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that Gabe can do dinner on Thursday. Can you promise to be nice on Thursday?" Kurt tells.

"I can't promise that," I say, because I don't intend on being nice. How will I know if he's worth Kurt's time if he can handle being grilled?

"Please? Save your sharp tongue for some twink on the side. Be nice, please," Kurt begs and I am powerless to that very tone.

"I'll try," I sigh.

"Good. Okay I'm late for class. See you soon." The line goes dead before I can respond.

I am truly suspicious about this Gabe person. He has not really given me a reason to be, but I'm protective over Kurt and I only want to make sure this guy is clean and pure intentioned before Kurt jumps into a relationship with me.

And it dawns on me- Kurt wants me to get to know him better? My dark abilities to find out public, and private, information a out people? I can't, but I have someone working for me who can.

"Clara?" I summon her in.

"Yes?" she says, an annoyed tendency in her speech.

"Can you get Marcus on the phone for me?"

"Sure," she says. She leaves and in no time at all my phone rings and Clara tells me Marcus, my driver/my security who is conveniently an ex CIA and a private investigator.

"Mister Anderson? Do you need to go somewhere?" he asks.

"No, but I do need a favor."

"Sure," he says.

"Do you still have those amazing abilities to do background checks on people?"

"I've never lost touch with those abilities," he tells.

"Good, because I need a background check on someone."

"Name, sir?"

"Gabe Parker."

-------

I wait patiently in my office. It's shortly after the mundane staff meeting where I have to give a speech about how our employees aren't performing at their optimum level, strictly to encourage then further.

The phone rings and I practically leapt across my desk to press the answer button. Clara's voice comes through.

"Blaine, Marcus on line two."

"Got it thanks," I stammer and I press on the number.

"Marcus, do you have it?" I ask.

"Yes sir, and I'm emailing it right now."

"That was quick. Thanks, and do you mind if we keep this between us?"

"Of course, sir."

"Thanks Marcus."

I press the end button and quickly scroll through my email and find one addressed from Marcus' email. I click on the tab and a summary appears of one Gabe Parker

Gabe Romano Parker

DOB: Sept 17, 1983, Riverside, WA
Address: 25, Upper West Side, PentHouse Apartment 26, New York City, NY 10014

Mobile No: 360-47-2367
Social Security No: 986-09-1472
Banking Details: Anderson Banking Co, New York, 10014
Accountt No: 308234: $567,239 balance

Occupation: Gallery Owner

GPA: 3.9
Prior Education: - Riverside High School
- Harvard University
-English Major (Expelled)
- Julliard School of Performing Arts
SAT Score: 2150
Employement: Art Of Ballet Gallery, NY.

Father: Robert A. Parker
DOB: Feb 12, 1952, Widowed October 10, 2003

Mother: Maya Ray Wilkonson
DOB: July 8, 1956, Deceased October 10, 2003

Political Affiliations: None Found
Religious Affiliations: None Found
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Relationships: None indicated at present

Criminal Record: -Arrested for DUI
-Arrested for assault and battery

Others: Road to Recovery, Rehabilitation Centre. WA, Vancouver.
(Admitted January 6, 2004)

I scan through the executive summary, over and over again. The one that sticks out to me are- he holds an account here. How did I not know that? He's practically a valued customer given his balance.

His records stick out to me most. DUI? Assault and battery? Does Kurt know all this? If so why does he still stick around. This guy is clearly bad news, especially the fact that he went to rehab? I have a burning urge to call Kurt and tell him all these information, but my office caller rings then.

"Yes?" I ask as I press the green button, my attention still on the summary on my computer screen.

"You have a visitor for you," she tells. "A Gabe Parker?"

My heart leaps out of my chest as I stare at the communication device. "Blaine? He's in the lobby. Reception wants to know if I should let him up. He's pretty insistent."

I count my heart beats like sheep over fences. Why in the world is he here? And how convenient at that.

"Urm- do you know what he wants?"

"Not really. Do you want me to ask?"

"No," I quickly say. Kurt would've told me if Gabe wanted to see me. This is probably an impromptu visit, one behind Kurt's back.

"Allow him up."

"Got you."

I shudder and stare at my computer screen. Now the hell does he want.

--------

"Blaine? He's here. Shall I let him in?" Clara ask on the telecom.

"Yes, let him in," I say and I quickly scan through my office and made sure my computer is not on Gabe's background check window.

There is a tap on the door and Gabe walks in. He looks casual in ratted jeans and a maroon dress shirt with dark, pointy leather shoes. I vaguely see Kurt's attraction- he's hot, don't get me wrong- but absolutely not my type of guy I want under me.

"Blaine," he greets and walks forward, stretching his hand for a formality. "Sorry for intruding like this. I know you must have a lot to do," he says as he takes a seat.

"Ah, it's fine. You'd be surprise at how free I am," I say, and his background check page pops on my head.

"That elevator ride, damn how do you survive going up everyday?"

"Trick is to swallow your own saliva, or sing. Gets the pressure distracted," I tell.

"Noted," he says.

"So, what can I do for you Gabe?" I ask.

"Well, I kinda need some- advice, I guess."

"Advice? On investment?" I ask, my profession surfacing.

"Oh, no, no. Nothing like that actually. It's urm- more about Kurt."

Figures, I tell myself. He looks nervous and I'm glad he feels that way. He is in my turf afterall. My haven, my partial building, my office. I wonder briefly want he wants to know.

"What about Kurt?" I ask nicely.

"You know how it's Valentines Day tomorrow right?"

My brow lifts as I try to comprehend where this is going. Is he trying to know how to sexually please Kurt or something? Because that would be a god awful awkward topic to discuss.

"It is? I'm sorry I don't celebrate stupid days like that," I tell him and he is momentarily taken aback.

"Okay, well I wanted to ask you, since you're his best friend and you probably know him more than anyone... I was wondering if you could tell me what Kurt likes."

"Kurt likes?" I raise my brow at him, suddenly intrigued at this conversation.

"What- urm..I want to plan something for Kurt for valentines day, but the problem is I don't know what will make him the happiest..and well I want to get it right- perfect, actually. I want to get it perfect so I was hoping I could get some, you know, tips from his best friend..to know what he likes most..what will make him the happiest."

I study him. He looks nervous, scared even. Definitely embarrassed at the fact that he has to come all the way down here to seek help from his boyfriend's bestfriend to please his boyfriend. Damn, this guy is sad. I feel sorry for him.

"What do you need to know?" I ask him, slapping my best false smile.

"What does he like? Like, what is his favorite thing to do."

I want to laugh- hard- at his face. He shouldn't be asking me this, then again he has only been dating Kurt for like 10 minutes of course he's confused at the mercurial life of Kurt.

"Well, he definitely likes Broadway shows. Though he likes specifics, you can't just take him to any thing on right now. He likes sappy cliché movies like Titanic, The Notebook, Moulin Rouge, When Harry Met Sally. That kind of shit. It gets him crying and he'll cry on your shoulder but he likes them. He loves watching stars, usually the natural ones. Take him to an open field and watch stars with him though you can't see stars in New York. Try the Planetarium. Books, he loves books. Those from Dan Brown and Elizabeth Boyle.

What else... Oh he likes cotton candy, but only the pink ones though. He says the other colors taste artificial. He hates sappy gifts like bracelets with couple names, matching boyfriend tees, Italian food. Pancakes are his favorite breakfast. He loves going to the Empire State observation deck because he likes reenacting the climatic scene in Sleepless In Seattle.

He hates chocolates and flowers on Valentines day, that I know for a fact, breakfast in bed, porn- hard to believe, I know. The thing about Kurt is, he loves big romantic gestures, but he appreciates the little ones more," I tell and realize I rambled on, losing myself to a full description of my bestfriend.

"Wow," Gabe says, his eyes widened and stunned. "You sure know a lot about him."

"Well, he is my bestfriend since..well since I can remember."

Gabe looks at me and stares momentarily. It's like he's studying me, or analyzing what I just told. Either of which, his stare is making me feel uncomfortable.

"Do you need to know more- or?" I press.

"Do you have anymore?" he ask, brows raised, challenging me perhaps. "What do you mean by the little things?" he asks.

"Well, as much as big romantic gestures make him swoon, he likes when you just spend the day watching his favorite movie. Listen to his problems, good morning, good night text messages. He likes picking your outfit out because, as much as his choices are too forward, he knows his shit. The small things like surprising him when he feels down, checking up on his dad every now and then- yes, Burt, his father. Small things like going shopping with him though he's such a recessionist he thinks everything above $30 is expensive. Macaroons are definitely his favorite thing- in the world."

"Wow," Gabe says. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Well, I have been answering you haven't I," I smile politely.

"Were you guys ever- urm, together?"

I am startled by his question. He looks dead serious, which means he's convinced Kurt and I were ever together.

"No," I say, matter of factly.

I won't deny that I think Kurt is adorable and he doesn't realize it, but he has an ass of a gay man's wet dream. He's always been good looking to me, but I've never seen us together before in that sense.

"It just seems like you guys are the perfect fit," he shrugs.

"We're not. Trust me, Kurt and I are worlds apart and we've never even thought about us in that sense. He's just- my best friend."

I can tell by his eyes that he's still not convinced, but he knows he shouldn't press on the subject and he submits to it.

"Okay well thank you then," he smiles. "Oh, and in case you were ever around Madisons, don't be shy to stop by at the Gallery again. Here's my card," he stretches his hand to give it to me but knocks my steel frame accidentally.

"Sorry," he says quickly and picks up the picture. He looks at it then, and his head snaps to look at me.

"Is this Kurt and you at-"

"-prom, yeah," I finish his sentence.

"You two went together?" he ask.

"Well- technically."

"He won prom king?" he says with amusement.

"Prom queen. That's actually quite a story. One I reckon Kurt will tell you someday."

He wants to press on, wants me to tell him, but he surrenders and places the frame back in place. There is something about his eyes now, something that he didn't walk in with. I shrug it off.

"Well, I guess that's it," he says before standing up. I do the same, out of being polite. "Thank you, Blaine. Kurt is just a really good guy and I want him to like me because I really like him."

"Trust me, Gabe. Just do whatever you've been doing, cause it's working," I smile, hinting him assurance, though I want so bad to inquisition him about his DUI.

He smiles shyly and shakes my hand, muttering another thank you before he turns. He stops at the door and turns to face me.

"If you don't mind, can you not tell Kurt about this little meeting?" he says, and he's embarrassed again. Good.

"My lips are sealed, Parker. But can you do something for me too?" I say.

"What?" he ask.

"Don't hurt him, alright?" I say, though I know it came across as a threat. My subconscious surfaced.

"Of course."

"Bye, Gabe," I say as he nods, turns and exits my office.

Clara burst into my office and startles me momentarily. "A, who was that. B, is he straight."

I grin at her and laugh at her hopefulness. Seriously what do people see in that average guy?

"He is Kurt's boyfriend."

"Kurt's boyfriend? Wow, go Kurt."

"Yeah, go Kurt," I roll my eyes.

"Oh, scotch break is now by the way," he tells me.

"Good, because I can sure use a drink. A couple, actually."

--------

Valentines day is one I sit on the fence about. I hate all the sappy puppy love teddy bears, the excessive red roses, the public display of affection. But there is also an upside to Valentines day. It's when sad, lonely, horny hot guys head to gay bars. Now this is their most vulnerable time of the year- it's when they feel absolutely insecure for not having a date on valentines day so a simple Hi gets their pants off already.

I know what you must be thinking- how desperate can I be. Well, this takes the effort off the game. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I'm come across two and I'll know it'll be a good, good night.

I head into Steak, a sleezy gay bar with too much smoke from smoke machines. There are guys already- dancing, drinking, having a good time. All faulting those nice, nice asses because it's Valentines day. A desperate, low self worth day for those single lads.

I take a seat on the stool and order a beer. A simple beer. I don't want to get too drunk tonight because despite how much I want to forget tomorrow, I have a huge meeting in the morning. It won't really look good if I come with a hangover.

I scan the crowd like a predator in search of a prey, but just as I do, I feel heat radiating at my back. I turn and there is a man standing before me. He had a dark beard, a salacious grin. Nice biceps, very nice.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

"You look like you could use company."

Oh. He's using my tactic. Great. Well this should be interesting. The usual ones who hit on me are confused college students, slutty twink and the occasional bears. This should be interesting, tonight.

"I do?" I say

"You do, so how about I accompany you at my place, hmm sexy?"

"There is no need," I say and I see him redraw from me. "Because my place is nearer." That smug smile is back.

We walk down to Haven and wait for the elevator. I feel Thompson's stare, the man who works down at the concierge, burning into me. Whatever. He's always disapproving of my lifestyle just because he had a whole village of kids.

The elevator dings open and we enter and I am pushed up against the metal walls. This man, God knows his name, slides his hand to my back and squeezes my ass. I moan.

"Yeah you like that sexy," he growls and leans to catch my lips but I stop him.

"You wanna take this here then? Very well," I unbuckle his cheap belt, pull it off in one swift and unzip his jeans. His member sprigs to life.

I bent down and suck him good. My tongue swirling around his erection, his precum already tastable. I push it back to my throat, pumping on my own erection as I give him head.

"Yeah," he moans.

The elevator dings again and we stumble inside, his jeans already around his ankles. I push him on my couch and decide to take him here and now. Screw the bedroom. I am so horny.

I take my jacket off, my dress shirt and my pants. He undresses too until we're both fully naked.

Time for some fun.

I slip the condom out of pants pocket and am about to tear it off when he tugs me forward and presses me into the couch, my ass bare for him.

"No, no honey. I've even eyeing this tight ass all night. You're mine," he says menacingly and I am so turned on.

I don't normally bottom because, being the control freak that I am, I love controlling the pace of when I pound into someone. But I do enjoy a good juicy cock in me occasionally. I am gay, afterall. I love being filled than always filling.

I feel his head on my entrance and it sends a shrill to my twitching cock. Fuck, it's been awhile since I've been fucked.

He slams into me and I scream for God. It feels so good, the burning sensation, the fullness, the everything. I gasp for air as he pulls out and slams harder into me. My whole body is afire but oh lord this feels good.

My hands and knees are pressed into the soft material of my couch as he stands behind and fills me. It's so good as he follows a rhythm of inward and outward motion.

He fills my hole so good. Juicy, thick cock pulling out and pushing into me. My lower stomach is tightening and it feels full. I feel myself climbing and building then. I should so get fucked more often.

He growls and releases inside me and I find my release as well.

---------

"Where's the bathroom?" he ask.

"Down the hall, to the right," I tell him, glad he knows it's time to leave.

I try to momentarily adjust myself to the post-anal pain in my anus. It's been awhile since I got someone fucking into me, or had a vibrator up in there I almost forgot the uncomfortable pain that comes after the sweet paradise ecstasy.

"Hey, I didn't quite catch your name," man with the d-bag beard ask.

"Don't bother. You can show yourself out." I tell.

"Okay," I hear the elevator door slide open and close and I'm left alone, at 10PM, on Valentines. The realization strangely makes me feel like a loner.

I take my phone out and scroll for someone to call, to hang out with. Kurt definitely isn't available. He's too busy playing stupid mushy couple with Gabe. Cooper is the last person on my mid. Rachel, I haven't spoken to her in awhile since she up and left for the Gold Coast. Maybe I could call her? To see how she's doing?

I press on her contact and it rings for a couple of heartbeats before her annoying, loud voice comes through.

"Hello?" she says.

"Hey Berry."

"Blaine? To what do I owe this pleasure? Or did hell freeze over?"

Rachel and I never quite saw eye to eye. We only talked to each other for Kurt's sake but we did we at least establish a tolerable relationship with each other. And I did say goodbye to her when she left.

"Just checking how you've been, Berry."

"Forgive me, but it's valentines day and with the different time zones, it's ten o'clock on your side. Why the hell are you calling me on valentines day, and at night at that?"

Now I regret calling her, deeply regret. She sounds so annoying pointing facts out like this than simply having a conversation.

"Is Blaine Anderson feeling lonely?" she teases.

"Fuck off."

"Where's Kurt?" she ask.

"Kurt's out- with his boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?!" she practically damaged my eardrums. "What boyfriend? And why hasn't he told me yet!"

"Oh because you decided to move to LA so we all just assumed you dead."

"Ha ha. But seriously though who is he? Is he cute?"

"He's okay I guess. Kurt really likes him, I don't see why."

"Is he bad?"

"Not really. He just irks me that's all."

A silence followed on her end before she spoke again. "Well I'm definitely going to talk Kurt later to find out about this mystery man. What about you then, Blaine? A special someone in your life yet?"

"Yes, my ass. And it got smashed so hard and good by some guy I met earlier."

"Romantic," she says sarcastically. "Well I have to go. Till the next night you call me because you're sad and lonely?"

"Hasn't the California sun vaporized you yet? Bye," I say and hang up.

"Now what am I gonna do," I say to my empty house. I roll over the couch, butt nude and turn my huge plasma HD television on. There really are only sappy love movies on it but I find one I can tolerate, Breakfast At Tiffany's.

I read the book once, Kurt loaned it to me. It's about this young girl who had an imaginary best friend while she was younger but she grew up, and her friend disappears but slowly comes back to her life in the future. They fall in love, fuck, he becomes a real being, bla bla.

I like the part about how they were friends who fell in love though.

--------

Morning arises and I am in my car, Marcus taking me to work. It's drizzling out but despite that I see people doing the walk of shame. Understandable, considering it was valentines day last night.

My phone rings then and it's Kurt. I press the answer button. "Morning," I hum.

"Hi," he says cheerily. "Isn't it a beautiful, beautiful morning? It feels like such a beautiful morning."

"Are you high?"

"On happiness," he laughs.

"Seriously, did you smoke marijuana?"

"Fuck off," he laughs lightly, which is weird because Kurt usually gets heated when I talk about any form of drugs to him. "I just had a really, really good valentines day- that's all."

"Stop with the not very subtle hints and just tell me already," I say.

"It was perfect!" he shrieks. "So perfect, Blaine! Perfect doesn't even describe last night. It was just- if I had picture my first perfect valentines day, well Gabe exceeded all my wildest dreams. It was amazing."

"How hard did he actually fuck you?"

"It's not that, you idiot! But of course the sex was out of this world, but what he planned for us...I think I wanted to cry."

"Okay, tell."

"Okay, so initially I had planned on taking him to a nice dinner, and then going back and slipping on those red, leather thongs you bought for me as a joke that one time and tie him to the bed and well- fuck his brains out-"

"My, my Kurt Hummel. Don't you have very dirty fetishes-"

"Shut up, I'm not done," Kurt says. "But then he called me and told me that he has something planned, and asked me to drop everything I had. I was disappointed, of course, but excited to know what he had planned. He shows up at my door then, looking drop dead sexy and gives me like a whole bag of Macaroons from that little bakery Love For You! My favorite ever, Blaine! Macaroons! I don't know how he knew."

"Yeah, I don't know," I say, rolling my eyes. So the douche did take my suggestions into actions.

"Anyway, afterwards he took me to- guess where," Kurt says excitedly.

"Trust me, you don't want me to guess," I tell him because I know if I do, I'm so going to get it right.

"The Empire State! One of my most favorite places in New York, Blaine! We stood there and we watched the city and kissed in the cold air it was just such a romantic night, and just when I thought the night couldn't get any better- it does! He took me to the Planetarium then to watch stars and he said the cutest thing to me ever. He said 'I want to kiss you under the stars,' and he does!"

"That's sound so sweet I might actually have diabetes."

"I forgot I'm telling this to the least romantic person alive. What did you do yesterday? Go around breaking poor twink hearts?"

"Got fucked by some guy I met at Steak."

"Sounds like fireworks level of romanticism," Kurt says sarcastically. "Blaine, I think- I think I'm in love."

"What?" I say in disbelief. "Kurt you do realize it hasn't even been a month, right?"

"I know, but when you know, you know! Look at Landon and Jamie from A Walk To Remember, or Romeo and Juliet in the span of five days! You can't control when you fall in love, it just happens. I think I'm in love, Blaine."

"Because he did a few romantic gestures?" I frown.

"Because- because I feel like he knows me already, and he went through all that trouble to make me feel special. I- I've never had that before."

I want to vomit. The tab of Gabe's background check pops into mind. I wonder if Kurt knows that already. I have to tell him. If he thinks he's in love with this guy, he deserves to know.

"Can you do lunch later?" I ask.

He is momentarily silent. "Urm- aren't you, me and Gabe having dinner tomorrow-"

"Yeah, but I was wondering if we could do our lunch. Is that possible or do you have to check with Gabe?"

"Is that suppose to mean something?" Kurt says and there is hostility in his tone.

"Can you, or not Kurt? It's important."

"Yeah, sure," he says.

"Great. Lunch at my office. Marcus will pick you up. See you," I say quickly because I cannot hold it in anymore. I have to tell him.

For his own good.
--------

"Blaine?" Clara steps in with her red flare shirt and nude velvet blouse. It wraps her chest like a glove. "Kurt's here," she tells and my body tenses.

When you dread something, it comes at you faster.

"Okay, can you run down to the deli and get a steak with mashed potato on the side and a caesar salad."

"Will do," she tells before he steps out and in a second, Kurt steps in.

"Hey," he smiles. "It's kinda weird we're having lunch here. The last time we did, it was because there was some creepy stalker you slept with the night before hanging outside the building waiting for you."

"Yeah, Marcus threw that creep in jail."

Kurt takes a seat across me. He looks good in a red knitted sweater and chino pants with high cut combat boots. Then again he always looks good. My mind briefly travels back to when Gabe asked if me and Kurt were every together. I've never thought of Kurt that way. Never.

"So, why so persistent for lunch?" he asks me.

"I have to- urm tell you something and you're probably going to be mad but please know that I did this for you, for your own good."

"Oh god what did you do?" Kurt says, his eyes wide with excited fear.

"Here are your lunches," Clara says as she walks in. "Oh, hey Kurt. I've been meaning to tell you. Good catch with the boyfriend," she winks and my heart stops.

"What?"

"You know, thay guy-" Clara glances at me and sees my wide warning eyes. "Oh. Well- I have to go. Busy busy busy," she says as she scurries out.

"How does she know I have a boyfriend?" Kurt frowns and asks me.

"That girl is so rounded with facts how would I know," I say quickly.

"Are you lying?"

"Fine I told her. And I showed her a picture of him one of the paps took at the fashion party," How did that lie form.

"Oh, okay."

"So anyway, what is this lunch important again?" he says as he takes the ceasar salad.

"I did something, for your own good but you have to promise not to be mad. Okay?"

"I can't promise that," he says as he puts a lettuce into his mouth.

"I had Marcus do a background check on Gabe."

Kurt halts and she stares at me, mouth open with lettuce hanging out, blue eyes widened and staring at me in disbelief. I practically shrink into a ball.

"You-what?" he growls.

"I did that for you, because you're jumping into this wagon way too quickly you don't even know him! What if he's actually a foreigner who needs a green card so he wants to marry you to stay here?"

"That is ridiculous, Blaine! And you so breached a line of trust here!"

"I didn't. I did it for you. Partly for me because I want to know him better, like you told me to-"

"Yes! Over fucking dinner not through a creepy background check you idiot."

"Do you want to see it or not? Because I think there are some things there that would shock you," I say leaning back into Throne.

"No! That's like- urg I can't with you," he stands, picks his fork up and hauls at me before storming out of my office.

I start to feel bad about it. Maybe I did cross some imaginary, non existent line of trust. But then Kurt walks in again and slams my door shut.

"What is it," he sighs, defeated by his own curiousity.

I smile and quickly tap through my laptop to get that page. Kurt comes around to my desk and sits on Throne's armrest. Normally I would never allow anyone even near but my favorite chair, but Kurt is an exception. He's always an exception.

The page comes up and Kurt leans forward to look at it. I patiently wait as he absorbs the information. This could either make him hate me, or make him love me more for telling him.

"So..?" I try.

Kurt stays silent. He scans through the page over and over again until he leans back and sighs.

"Kurt?"

"That doesn't say anything."

"What?" I say I disbelief. That states everything. The DUI, assault and battery, rehab. "Kurt, everything is there!"

"This could be false information-"

"Marcus is scarily efficient. He would never give me false information. Why are you denying this?"

He does not look at me but I see it in his eyes. His fear, his denial- his optimism to always see the good in people no matter how screwed up they may seem- like me for example.

"Because- because that can't be true. He would've told me-"

"Exactly, which proves that you never truly know someone-"

"Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to mess with the first guy I ever like?"

"Because I want to protect you! And given the information, I clearly need to."

"I can take care of myself," he says.

"I know, but I know guys better than you do. You don't understand their intentions. Some have really dark ones-"

"And here we go again. Not everyone is like you! Not everyone wants to hump and dump!"

"I'm just looking out for you!"

"Well stop. You don't have to do it. I trust Gabe, and yeah I do love him even though you think it's ridiculous that I do. He will tell me in his own time. I trust him-"

"So you're not going to ask him?"

"No," Kurt says pointly. "Now thank you for this unpleasant lunch. You had no right to dig up his past without telling me first," Kurt grabs his bag and heads out the door. "But you're sill expected for tomorrow's dinner so you better fucking be there."

I stand there, confused at what just happened. I love Kurt, and I'm happy he found someone that makes him happy, but the matter is this guy feels shady to me and well, if he's not going to ask the tough questions, then I have to do what I do best.

Protect my bestfriend.

-------

Thursday night shows and I'm ready for dinner with Kurt and his boyfriend, Gabe. Kurt is still under the impression that Gabe and I have only met once. I'd like to keep it that way actually.

"Mister Anderson, may I bring you to your table," the waiter says.

"Please."

I booked a table at Claw. It's a really pricey restaurant, food cooked by one of the best chefs in the absolute world. They know me here. I see Gabe and Kurt already there, seating next to each other, their hands overlapped on the table.

"Blaine," Gabe greets. "How are you?" he ask as I slide onto the seat.

"Peachy, Gabester. How are you?" I am aware Kurt is glaring at me but I choose to be oblivious. Tonight is all about grilling mister Parker.

"I'm fine," he says politely.

"Why are you late?" Kurt ask.

"Oh, swamped at work. You know, working adults, right Gabe? Oh, I'm sorry, what do you do again? Run a Ballet gallery?"

"Yes, I do," he says gentlemanly again.

"Tell me, what's the difference between a Ballet gallery and a normal, yet just as boring, art gallery?"

Kurt's glare is burning at me now but I could not care less. He refused to ask the difficult questions? Well I am more than happy to do it. Besides, I'm excited to see this man squirm.

"Well, a ballet gallery is a more pinpointed elaboration on ballet. It's history, it's timeless moves. Basically everything that involves ballet, the gallery has it."

"Interesting," I say sardonically, rubbing on my chin. "So, then why didn't you become a dancer if you're so into it?"

"I was never really that good-"

"You're amazing," Kurt intervenes and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "He teaches me every day after school."

"I'm okay-"

"You're amazing," Kurt reassures and they're staring at each other with shy smiles. You know, the kind of annoying stares couples share on movies that seem to last for an eon.

"Forgive me, but I am deeply curious why NYADA allows teachers and students to bone- I mean date."

Kurt is practically stabbing me with his glare. I swallow a yelp and I feel his hard leather shoes kicking me hard on the calve. That's going to bruise.

"I guess you have to talk to the dean about that," Gabe says. "So, I'd love to know more about your achievement, Blaine. I mean, being on Times' list of most successful and influential under twenty five must really put a boost on your ego."

Maybe I'm still slightly zonked from the drink I had before I came here, but was that actually a sarcastic insult? I see Kurt's triumph smile.

"Ah, well when you've accomplished as much as me it's hard not to feel proud of yourself. So tell me, what college did you go to?"

"Julliard," he says.

"No other college before that?" The bit of information of his expulsion from Harvard flashes through my mind. Lets see how he gets through this one.

"Well, I did go to Harvard for a very brief period of time but my passion for Ballet was too large a magnitude for Harvard to cut it."

"So you dropped out?" I press and I sense Kurt's eyes widen. Though I'm sure he wants to know too.

Gabe looks at me with his green eyes and sighs. A smile spreads across his face, a small one. "Expelled, actually," he looks at Kurt instead of me now, obviously aware that this is new news to Kurt.

"I was expelled for drinking in the premises of the school. Harvard has this very strict rule against behavior that might jeopardize their status, so they expelled me. I'm guessing to save their rep. I'm sorry I haven't told you. It's not something I'm very proud of," he says and Kurt smiles assuringly.

"It's okay."

I want to go over to Kurt and slap him silly. Is he kidding me? Why is he so blinded by this guy. I am unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes this time.

"So you went to MIT? What's that like?" Gabe ask me.

"Being surrounded by geniuses like me was rather exhausting. It was fairly mundane. Though there was this big brawl between my dorm mates. Guess that was the only thing remotely lively about that school. Have you ever been in a fight, Gabester?" I ask, that information of his assault and battery record sips into my memory.

"I mean, what guy hasn't been in a couple of fights, right?"

"Kurt has never," I say.

"Yes I have-"

"A slap fight with Rachel does not count."

He slums into his chair and stares at me in anger. He's pleading at me with his eyes, telling me to stop. I won't. This is for him afterall. If he's going to wait for Gabe to tell him all the skeletons in his closet, who knows when will that be.

"I guess I have," he shrugs.

"Really? Sounds exciting. Care to elaborate that?" I press on and I see him get uncomfortable in front of me.

"Well, I did get into a small bar fight a few years ago with some guy who came a little too strong to my cousin and made her uncomfortable. He sued me afterwards, though it was his fault," he says.

"Oh, so you were defending your cousin?" Kurt ask.

"Yeah," he tells.

"That's actually- very moral of you," Kurt says, stroking his hand.

I feel nauseated at the sight. Kurt should honest open his eyes and realize how convenient this guy is covering his stories. I roll my eyes again, and I bet I'm going to be doing it a lot for tonight.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to use the loo," he tells and smiles at Kurt before he departs.

Kurt's head quickly snaps at me and his hand smacks me hard on my bicep. "What the fuck are you doing?" he hisses.

"What? You said to get to know him better. I am," I argue.

"No you're not. You're interrogating him like Becket in Castle. Stop it. I told you I want to wait until he tells me himself, which I trust he will. So drop all other questions you have for him, got it?"

"What the fuck are you doing though. Aren't you the least bit curious on why all his answers seem so convenient and- well innocent? And who even says 'use the loo' anymore? It's bathroom. Just say bathroom. We're not in England."

"Maybe because they are innocent?" Kurt says, frowning at me. "Blaine, just stop it, okay? He will tell me on his own time. I trust him-"

"Funny how trust can build up so fast in the span of- what a week?"

"Trust is earned, okay?"

Gabe returns moments after. He slides back onto his seat and his hand returns to the clasp he has with Kurt. This is honestly irksome. How can Kurt sit there and pretend he knows nothing of this guy's past?

"So, Gabester, anything else interesting about you besides your enigmatic love for Ballet?"

I feel a hard kick on my ankle this time, followed by an icy cold stare from Kurt. I'm glad they took the knives away from our table before they set down our meals- a surprise special from the chef.

"I'm actually a pretty simple person," Gabe shrugs. "How about you, Blaine? I'd love to know more about how you and Kurt were in high school."

"Oh, trust me, you don't want to know about the most horrific time of my life. I still wake up sweating over some of the things I remember," Kurt says.

"Like what?" Gabe ask, his attention now at Kurt, staring intently at him.

"Well, everyday basically. I mean, everyone is scathe and traumatized after high school, right?"

"True," Gabe says. "Was high school rough for you too, Blaine?"

"I don't know why you guys want to relive high school, but whatever. High school was fine for me," I say, because who on earth wants to talk about their high school days.

"Kurt told me you were a jock," he ask and I flash an amused smile at Kurt. So they talk about me when I'm not around?

"I was. Quarterback, even," I say proudly. "But football is lame and the guys are assholes."

"Were you two close?" Gabe presses on.

"Always. We've always been best friends, all the way through high school. I would beat anyone who tries to hurt Kurt. Then in high school, and even now."

I hope he notes my tone. He looks at me in an irritable amusement. I wonder briefly the ocean of secrets he probably hides from Kurt. If this was the animal world, and I was a tiger and he was a deer, I would leapt across this table and eat his skin to veins.

"Says a lot about your loyalty as a friend-"

"It does," I smile, staring at him. "What about you, Gabe? High school?"

"Well, like Kurt said, everyone is scathe and traumatized after high school."

"Hmm," I hum. He is being so vague I try to pick out the records on his high school but I don't remember much- I don't think there was any.

I am trying desperately to find a hole to slip in his rehabilitation records but I can feel that that would be crossing the non existent line that is apparently existent to Kurt. I look over at Kurt and Gabe and they're talking about how Gabe was in the marching band back in high school.

He does look happy. I know best friend, and when he is happy there is this gleam in his eyes. They sparkle more than they usually do. His smile too. Wide, and you can't see his teeth.

But I hate Gabe, because I can feel he's more shadier than he seems. I know there is more and I wonder to myself if Marcus can dig a little deeper. Phone records, relationship records- I know he's hiding something.

"I played the trumpet but I was horrible," Gabe says. "Anyway, so Blaine, are you even a little musical like Kurt?"

I frown at him. His stupid smile irks me. It looks false and schmuck and a brief scene of me hitting him across the face with a bar flashes through my brain. God, he annoyed every fibre in my body.

"Blaine actually is. In our senior year to took part in the school's play. West Side Story. He played Tony."

"Male lead?" Gabe says, almost unbelievably.

"Yeah," I waver at him. Rachel was intolerable during rehearsals, that is all I remember. "You've ever been to rehab, Gabe?"

Even I am surprised at my words. Where the hell did that come from? I quickly glance over at Kurt who is staring at me in disbelief. I can tell he has reached his limits.

"Urm-" Gabe says, not looking at me, or Kurt for that matter.

"Blaine, that's really inappropriate. Not to mention rude," Kurt intervenes. He's frowning at me in disapproval.

"What? It was just a question-" I say, even though I know that it really was rude. What has gotten into me?

"Look, Blaine, I get that you're protective over Kurt, okay? You've been best friends for years, and I know you want to make sure the guy he's with is good for him, but there really isn't a need to ask me all these inappropriate questions and put me on the spot like this. Whatever Kurt needs to know, I have told him or am going to tell him. But if you're going to question me like this and make me feel uncomfortable, I'm sorry but I think I might want to leave," Gabe says. His chair scrapes the wooden floor as he stands. "I'll call you tomorrow?" He says, leaning towards Kurt.

Kurt nods and he gives one chaste kiss to Kurt before giving me a nod and exiting the restaurant.

"Well, now we for sure know he's hiding something-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Kurt says heatedly, his blue eyes burning into my own eyes. "I told you no. I told you not to question him like that, to let him tell me on his own time. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry but I just wanted to know-"

"No, you didn't. You just wanted to screw with my relationship. Now he has walked away. Thank you Blaine," Kurt slams his napkin on his plate before storming out.

"Kurt, wait!" I call for him, chasing down Times Square as he walks away. "Kurt," I manage to grasp on his arm but he shrugs it off.

"How dare you. How dare you ask him that, and like that even! Why don't you ever want to listen to me?"

"Because- I just wanted to make sure-"

"What? That he's a good guy? That he's not keeping anything from me? I don't need you to do that! I don't need you to fucking mend and fix my own relationship if it doesn't pertain you! So what if he lies to me or doesn't tell me something? He'll be my problem, my mistake."
Bbmkmm
"I just want to make sure he won't hurt you-"

"I can take care of myself," Kurt says. "I'm going home, but thank you Blaine. All I wanted was for my bestfriend to get to know the guy I'm dating, but you couldn't save me that one ounce of respect to just not swarm him with questions. Thank you."

----------

I feel deeply shitty on Friday when I arrive for work. God, how did that night even spiral into me and Kurt having an argument? I know why, actually.

"Coffee?" Clara says cautiously as she studies my face.

"Please," I tell. Coffee is good. Coffee is like a substitution for alcohol. Clara brings in a cup and I slowly sip it, watching Manhattan from my office.

"So, you have to note Bryan's presentation later at ten, the meet and greet lunch with Donovan from the Seattle firm, dentist at four."

"Alright, thanks," I say, dismissing her.

"What's wrong?" she ask. "You came in with a shitty face."

"Well, I did have a shitty night," I tell her and she's right not to pursue as she exits my office.

I hesitate to call Kurt because I know he wouldn't answer me if I do. I get that he's mad- but to an extent. Why does he not realize that all I want to do is to show him the psycho pathological shady liar that Gabe is? He is blinded because Kurt hasn't dated anyone in a long time, nor has he been out having some fun. I sigh and resign from my thoughts. Maybe he just needs a little time.

But how long though.

I decide that a walk around the building might be good for me. I do this occasionally. It gets the employees on their toes and on their jobs. I take the elevator up to the 79th floor and before I know, find myself outside Cooper's office. It writes there on his door:

Mister Cooper Anderson.
Co-Vice President.

I wonder briefly where Cooper's assistant is. I turn the door knob and push the steel doors open, and my questions is answered.

Cooper is naked, only his dress shirt still on with all it's buttons undone- on top of a brunette girl with huge tits, and legs up in the air. The both of them catch sight of me and scramble so fast they fall behind Cooper's desk.

"What the-"

"Blaine get the hell out!" Cooper growls at me.

I shut the door but I wait outside. I am not going to leave, hell no.

The door opens and the brunette girl, whom is Cooper's assistant Jennifer, stumbles out as she tries to adjust her pencil shirt. She notices me and stumble on her heel in startle.

"G-good morning, M-mister An-Anderson," she says. I ignore her and enter Cooper's office instead. "Care to explain?" I ask as I shut the door behind me.

Cooper looks up at me as he tries to adjust his tie. He's sweating profusely, the back of his shirt drenched. Some his wavy dark hair sticking to his forehead.

"Look- just, just mind your own business, okay?"

"You gotta be shitting me, right?" I say in disbelief.

"Blaine, I'm serious-"

"And I'm serious. Given that I'm Vice President, I am obligated to fire anyone who breaks the rules and regulations of this company. One of the rules is no sexual relationships in the premises of the office- dad's rule."

"I'm Vice President too!"

"Really? Because fucking your assistant sure does not sound like what a responsible Vice President would do-"

"Don't play that card with me. As if you're even near responsible-"

"I know the rules here, and I oblige to them. What I do outside does not affect the company. Now, explain this before I bring it up with dad. Or better- your wife."

Cooper studies me, and sighs as he takes his seat. "Fine," he exasperates. "Look, I love Denise, alright? But I'm a man. I can't help to get tempted. Besides, a man has needs sometimes his wife cannot satisfy-"

"Is that really your statement?" My eyes are wide. I cannot believe my ears.

"Just- just try to understand it from my point of view, will you? Denise is always busy taking care of Camilla and she's always tired at night. How the hell am I suppose to get action-"

"You realize you sound like a fucking prick, right? Camilla is your daughter you asshole. If anything you should award Denise for taking care of her while you're out fucking your assistants than working."

"Please don't tell Denise, okay? This is my life we're talking about. This is my family-"

"Don't you think you should've thought of that before you slept with fake tits out there?"

"Blaine, please. I don't want to lose Camilla. Please just forget you saw anything-"

"If dad finds out-"

"You can't tell him, Blaine. I'll lose my job, and who knows who else will hire me-"

I see my opportunity now. I've wondered why Cooper took this job for awhile, and now he's at my mercy. He has to answer my questions, explain to me otherwise he knows of the hell resemblance repercussions that can come.

"Why did you take this job, Cooper? You're a lawyer. Why the sudden interest in the family company?"

"Blaine," Cooper sighs. "That's really none of your business-"

I take my phone out and scroll for Denise's number. I press call and show it to Cooper, who quickly try to make a grab for it.

"Fine!" he yells. "Fine! Just hang up, please!"

I do, and I wait patiently for my brother to spill the beans.

He exhales heavily before he begins to speak. "I got fired from my firm because- because I slept with an underage girl. Her father was going to sue me, sue the firm. So the firm let me go so they wouldn't have to bear the fire. Her father was still going to sue me for rape, though I did not rape her, and have me arrested. I told dad about it, and he stepped in and bribed the man for his silence. He then told me that in return, I have to work here."

I stare at him in disbelief, unable to process or even remotely comprehend the story. It makes me sick how this all went on behind my back. "How old was she?" I ask, trying to maintain my composure and ease.

"Fifteen-"

"What?" I scream at my brother. "Fifteen? Cooper you slept with a fucking child you do realize that, right?"

"I didn't mean to, okay! She looked really developed for her age and she came on to me-"

"That's not the fucking point you idiot! Oh god I can't believe you could do that. To yourself, to Camilla and Denise!"

"I'm not proud of it, okay?"

"You're not sorry either! If you were you wouldn't have been banging on positively tested skank out there, your assistant!"

"Shut up, Blaine! You don't get to sit there and judge me when you're no better! You go around fucking ever guy you like-"

"The difference is I'm my married nor do I have a child! I can't believe dad actually helped you-"

"He did it for his own reasons."

"Because he always wanted you to work here-" I say in utter disgust of my father.

"Partially that," Cooper tells.

"What do you mean partially?" I frown.

Cooper sighs. He looks like he wants out of this conversation, but I'm not letting him go anywhere. He does not get to escape this. "Tell me," I say sternly.

"Blaine- I really would rather not-"

"You fucking tell me or I'll go up there and ask dad myself."

"Fine," he sighs. "Because- because dad has cancer, Blaine. Terminal cancer, and he says he wants somebody to take over the company when he goes. I asked him to let you run it, because you've been here longer and you know the ropes, but he says he wants me- because-"

"Because what?" I say, trying to not break up inside at the news that my father has cancer and he hasn't told me.

"Because he doesn't want his gay son to run his life time's work."

My insides feel like they've been dismantled and thrown into a pit of lions. I don't feel my limbs. I feel nothing. I feel soulless, like at the bottom of an abyss. I feel Cooper's worrying gaze on me, but I ignore him.

"Blaine?" Cooper tries but I am off my chair and dashing out of his office in seconds. I run past Jennifer's desk, to the elevator, down to the lobby. The sun blinds me when I emerge out the building, and I see Marcus perplexed at my sudden arrival, but I run.

My insides burning, my chest hammering, my legs threaten to give away but I run.