A/N: I'm a bit swamped with work, so if I don't manage to update tomorrow, the next chapter will be up on Saturday. I love all of your comments, thank you so much! *hug*

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CHAPTER 11: Extended hands

Melanie descended on Blaine one day the way she always did: after months spent buried in work, she was suddenly there without a warning, bearing cake and wine, and filling his apartment with bright colors and loud laughter.

She had been his closest friend since freshman year of law school – and now, he could safely say she was the only one left. She'd been there for him all along, in the happy years of studying, love and fun, through the terrible months when everything was crumbling, and later, still there as years passed and Blaine stayed in the same crappy place while she moved up in the prosecutorial world. Always there if he needed her, unapologetically big and squishy, with her passions and appetite for life, and a personality that seemed to fill every room she entered. Blaine didn't know why she'd stuck by him, considering how dull a company he'd become, but he was infinitely grateful that she had. Her witty reality checks had saved the remnants of his sanity more than once.

She was also frighteningly perceptive. And that could be a problem.

She had barely entered the room and gathered Blaine in a tight hug before he saw her glancing around with a cocked eyebrow. She didn't say anything, not until they sat on the sofa together, coffee and strawberry cheesecake conveniently at hand. Only then did she smirk knowingly and nudge Blaine's side with an elbow.

"Okay, spill: what's with the sudden tidiness?"

Of course she would notice.

Blaine never much cared about the state of his apartment. A bit of a mess didn't bother him. Coffee cups clustered on a coffee table, dishes piled in the sink or a blanket bunched on the sofa – things like that had always been a normal occurrence here. Now, however, since this thing between him and Kurt had been going on, and Kurt seemed to thrive on cleanliness and order, somehow Blaine started paying attention to those little details and tidied up as he went. After all, he could never be sure when Kurt would want to drop by, often with rather short notice.

Blaine shrugged, and reached for the cake. He knew Melanie much too well to try and wiggle out of answering, though.

"I... may be having guests sometimes, lately. Or, a guest. Nothing to get excited about but –"

Melanie flailed a little, letting out a sound that could only be qualified as a squeal. "How long? Is he hot? Will I like him? It's a he, right? OhmygodBlaine, why haven't you said anything?"

Blaine chuckled self-consciously. He had no intention of revealing anything more. Melanie knew all about Kurt – more than anyone else, in fact. If he told her who he'd been sleeping with, she'd have him committed. Not without a reason, he had to admit.

"Several months, very hot, I don't think you will and yes, it's a he. And before you get too excited, it's just sex, nothing more."

Melanie was already beaming though. "Yeah, yeah. Many a good relationship starts with just sex, take my word for it. And don't you worry about me liking him; I'm sure once I meet him –"

"You won't." Blaine cut in sharply. Too sharply. If he had wanted to pull her attention from the topic, he just managed the opposite. He needed to fix the damage now, and fast. He cleared his throat. "You won't meet him because –"

"Because I won't like him?" She suggested smoothly. "Honey, you're going sort of steady with one guy for the first time since Ethan. That's enough for me to like anyone, even if he were, I don't know, your personal ghost from the past."

Blaine took a huge bite of his cake – and promptly choked.

"Blaine?" Melanie's voice was deadly serious now, almost scared. "I was joking, I swear, please tell me you're not sleeping with him."

"I –" Blaine put away the plate, then picked it up again, just to have something to fiddle with.

"Oh fuck me sideways. You are. Are you out of your mind?"

"Mel–"

"Of course you're out of your mind. No, fuck, please tell me it's your idea of a sick joke. Why would you – How –"

Blaine dared to turn to her at last and the worry on her face made him squirm.

"No, hey, it's alright."

"It's not alright, Blaine! It's crazy and unhealthy and... God, please just explain it to me."

Blaine sighed and tried his best to find logic where he knew there wasn't much.

"We met by chance, he contacted me afterwards. He asked me for a chance to... reclaim what he lost? Sort of?" God, it sounded so stupid, put like that. "So we spent one night together, and that was it, no contact, nothing. Months later, he turned up again, asking for... well, for sex. And I... I agreed. I know it sounds like a terrible idea, but I'm fine, I promise, Mel. It's okay."

"Why would you agree to something like that?" She looked like she was seriously questioning his sanity.

"He... I... he asked, he had a reason, a valid one." The details of Kurt's trouble with intimacy were not his to divulge, but he had to give her something. "I owed him. So I agreed."

"You didn't owe him anything, honey." Her voice was soft again. She sounded almost motherly.

"I did, though. I had taken his first time from him. It was only fair I let him regain it in some way, if he needed that from me."

"You know it doesn't work that way, don't you?"

"But it did! Mel, trust me, I saw it work. And... it's really okay. I thought I'd be falling apart, but I'm not. I'm just having sex with a hot, gorgeous man, that's it. We don't talk about the past; we barely talk at all. It's just sex."

Okay, that was not quite true – not anymore, at least. It was barely a week since his realization and already things were changing between them, in subtle ways Kurt probably didn't even notice.

It had been a week that hurt like none before since the beginning of their arrangement. But he wouldn't tell her that.

"Blaine–"

"No, I'm done talking about this," he said firmly. "I'm fine. We're both adults and this is what we decided to do. Thank you for your concern, but it's not up for discussion."

"I'm just worried about you, you know that."

"I know. How come you don't ask how he is taking it?"

"I'm sure he has plenty of people to worry about him. You only have me."

That was true, so he didn't answer.

They didn't talk about it anymore, but Blaine could feel her worried eyes on him whenever he turned away. He knew it wasn't the end.

The feelings, once released from their secret prison of total denial, never left. They were out there constantly, wreaking havoc, as if Blaine hadn't been doing a good enough job by himself.

Suddenly, every night with Kurt was a new kind of torture.

They were in bed together, sharing space and sweat and sleep, and yet it didn't mean anything at all, didn't lead anywhere. It was more depressing than anything, this realization, because Blaine's thoughts and the flutter in his chest didn't matter. That feeling that Kurt was a perfect representation of everything Blaine used to look for in a man, sent here now to taunt him – it didn't matter. Every startled moment of wonder, every reverent touch when Kurt was asleep by his side, every text message that felt like their minds met in a precise spot without an appointment – all of it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. Kurt was not his to love. There was no future for them, nothing Blaine could offer him beyond what they had. Nothing worth having.

Blaine's falling was his secret little thing, meaningless and pointless and forbidden, never to be revealed or reciprocated. Never a happy thing. It was just another part of his penance, the next ring of hell, worse than ever because it was so perfectly intersected with sweetness and light, woven together into an inseparable knot.

So on some nights he just lay there, long after Kurt was asleep, balancing on the edge between... not happiness exactly, but the closest approximation of it he'd had in years – and hell. It took so little to tip him over. He kept falling to the wrong side.

And it hurt more every time.

***

Kurt walked out of his new boss's office on weak knees, his head spinning.

It had been just a silly argument, a stupid dare from his annoyed coworker when Kurt wouldn't stop criticizing the clothes they'd been working with, bored half to death with the safe, repetitive feel of their photo arrangements after barely two months of work.

And then – because he was not all talk, how dare she? – there'd been a weekend spent with his long-forgotten sketchbook and a pencil that only felt strange and foreign in his hand for the first hour, and with his head suddenly full of ideas. He'd brought the best sketches to work on Monday. By noon, he'd gotten what he wanted – an apology from the girl, along with the admission that he did know what he was talking about. By the end of the workday the copies of his drawings had circulated the office and everyone seemed to look at him differently.

It was unnerving. He'd been a nobody before, just a newbie from the fashion department.

And today he'd been summoned to his boss's office where her friend, the head of a small but up-and-coming fashion house, had offered him an internship with the promise of a job in a few months if he proved to be "as talented as his designs suggested."

He hadn't been called talented in his field – hadn't even designed anything, really – for almost six years.

No, it wasn't entirely true – he'd come up with things as he stumbled through the rest of his college years, he had to if he wanted to graduate. But it held no spark, no inspiration like it had always had before, and the attention of his teachers, the label of the most promising student in his year, eventually faded and passed onto others.

And for years, Kurt hadn't really cared at all. He'd wanted to be a designer once, but it was gone now, the dream taken from him with so many other things. How could he design anything? Since his kidnapping, he hadn't been able to focus properly at all, let alone get to that space in his head where everything else disappeared and there was only him and his ideas, and the whisper of graphite on the paper as he filled page after page with sketches without a conscious thought.

Damn, he hadn't been able to even sit still for any reasonable amount of time.

But lately he seemed to be getting better – so much better, in fact, that the magazine job which he'd applied for in a flash of boldness proved to be no problem for him at all. He sat at his desk for hours every day, worked with people, focused on his tasks and... frankly, he was getting bored. Years of easy, menial jobs and now suddenly he was back to his old capabilities, and craving more, eager for a challenge.

And now the designing. He felt like a huge part of himself was suddenly back, one that he'd thought he had lost forever.

He'd said yes, of course. He was starting the internship on Monday.

Packing his things for the day – he'd still come back here three days a week, for now at least – Kurt hummed happily under his breath. It was time to celebrate. He'd buy a bottle of good wine on his way home, and a pint of his favorite ice-cream, maybe he'd even swing by that fancy Thai place for take-out. He shouldn't, not when he had to tighten his belt now that he was going to have fewer hours at the magazine, but today at least he wouldn't worry about that. Today was for celebration.

Okay, so sitting at home alone, maybe talking with his dad on Skype, wasn't much of a celebration, that was true. But the girls from his catering job had less and less time for him lately, and he hadn't really gotten close to anyone at the magazine, and the only person he would actually want to take out for a celebratory dinner was... Blaine. Which, obviously, was out of the question. They never met outside of Blaine's apartment. Theirs was not that kind of relationship.

Though... it had been evolving lately.

For the last two months, ever since they'd agreed on being exclusive with each other, things had been slowly changing. Kurt wasn't sure how much of it had been due to that conversation, and how much resulted from their new schedule of sorts.

Their respective work obligations kept them unable to meet more than twice a week most of the time. Kurt had regular office hours now, obviously, and worked every day, not just whenever an event was scheduled. But he was not the only one. Blaine might be a freelancer with flexible hours, but he was working on something big lately, something that filled his days and stole his sleep, as his haggard, exhausted appearance showed more than once. He didn't want to say what kept him so busy, but gone were the days when Kurt dropped by every other day and Blaine always found time for him. They didn't have as many chances to be together.

But when they did, their time was filled with more than just sex.

They'd been talking more, and not just to kill time before round two (or three, or, on several memorable occasions, four). No, it was genuine talking, the kind that friends do when they're still getting to know each other – sharing thoughts and preferences and memories (though never those memories), exchanging work stories (Blaine only talked about his current job though, never about the FBI) and family stories, revealing more and more of themselves with every meeting. And Kurt had to admit that the more he was getting to know Blaine, the more fascinated he was.

The guy whose picture was emerging from those conversations and hours spent together was amazing: smart and passionate, with vast knowledge about so many things that Kurt's head spun a little. He was humble and funny, caring and sweet, and he only looked more gorgeous with his golden eyes alight and a flush of excitement on his cheeks when he talked about something he felt strongly about. And, of course, he was a sex god.

If they'd met under any other circumstances, Kurt would have probably fallen madly in love with him in a heartbeat. As it was, there were still moments when he had to forcibly remind himself that despite all of his endearing qualities, Blaine was the darkest shadow from his past, just to keep his feelings in check. So far, it had worked. But it was getting harder because Blaine was slowly becoming omnipresent in Kurt's life.

He'd introduced Kurt to some excellent books, and now Kurt could hardly look at his bookshelf or read anything without wanting to share and discuss his thoughts with Blaine. Same with music – they'd discovered that they shared quite a lot of favorites. They had even watched a few movies together recently. Sort of... cuddling on the couch, which was new and felt surprisingly perfect. And if Kurt found himself holding Blaine's hand halfway through Moulin Rouge... well, Blaine didn't seem to mind. Just like Kurt didn't mind Blaine absentmindedly playing with his hair the next time. It got him completely distracted with the sweet, sensual pleasure of the caress, so much so that he barely remembered the rest of the movie, but no, he didn't mind at all.

And... it wasn't what fuck buddies did, was it? He'd been avoiding this thought, but maybe it was time to face it: they were clearly more than that now. Lovers, yes, but also friends. Boyfriends? No, but–

Why not? Maybe? Would he mind? Would Blaine?

Kurt played with the thought as he made his way home, completely forgetting about the food he was going to get. He couldn't speak for Blaine, but his own reaction when he gently explored the possibility was surprisingly unsurprised. Which... actually made sense.

He wasn't naive enough not to realize how much of his progress and well-being in the past year was linked to Blaine. Kurt owed him more than a fantastic sex life. Somehow, in the year since their accidental meeting, Blaine helped him feel safe again, confident and comfortable in his skin, and ready to actually live. He had no more nightmares, no trouble with personal boundaries, and now even his dreams were alive again. It was more than Kurt had ever hoped for.

And he could lie to himself all he wanted, but the fact that he'd stopped looking for a boyfriend because he had Blaine in his life was pretty telling too. Because... Blaine was a pretty awesome boyfriend. Yes, they both told themselves – and each other – that they were only fooling around, but really? Going out on an actual date was the only thing keeping them away from... well, dating.

So why not just go there?

Kurt remembered his reasons, the anger that had still burned bright even just months ago whenever he'd thought of that night. He was still convinced there had to be something twisted and sick in a man who'd agreed to go undercover to fuck a sex slave, no matter how noble the excuse. But... it was six years ago. People change.

In all those months he'd been getting to know – really know – Blaine, not once had he seen the agent, the man who didn't care what he'd had to do as long as it got the job done. And Kurt's anger simply wasn't there anymore. He would never forget that night, but he thought he was ready to forgive.

His feet made the decision before his brain did, and before he knew it, he was back on the subway, on his way to Blaine's apartment.

The closer he was, the better the whole idea seemed and by the time he was nearing Blaine's station, Kurt was bouncy and excited. He would just surprise Blaine and–

Oh. Right, but Blaine didn't like surprises. He'd said so himself a couple of weeks ago – for whatever reason, Blaine hated not knowing what was coming. Okay then, that wasn't nearly as much fun, but Kurt could respect his feelings on the matter.

You need a break from all that work, hon. Get dressed, I'm taking you out to dinner. I'll be there in five. xoxo - K.

Okay, so maybe it sounded a little too much like boyfriend territory, Kurt decided once he'd sent the text, but then he shrugged. Whatever, Blaine wouldn't mind. Kurt couldn't have been the only one fooling himself, they were both clearly straining towards more and holding themselves back. It was time to stop fighting it. They needed to talk, but first, they would celebrate Kurt's internship. Nothing like a good dinner to set the mood for talking about the future of a relationship.

Humming, he skipped up the stairs to Blaine's apartment.

"So." Kurt started as soon as the door opened. "I hope you like Thai because I'm in the mood for Thai tonight and there's this place not far from here that–"

"Kurt, stop." Blaine's voice sounded off, rough and strained somehow, and it was only then that Kurt actually looked at him.

He looked awful. Or at least as awful as such an attractive guy could look, and Kurt didn't understand. They'd seen each other two days ago, he'd spent the night and Blaine had been flawless as always, smiling and sexy, and so tender when he'd kissed Kurt goodbye.

Now he stood in the doorway in black sweatpants and a ratty white t-shirt, a coffee cup steaming in his hand, and he looked like death warmed over. His eyes were dull and hooded, his usually shiny curls matted, even his skin had an unhealthy, grayish tinge. He smelled like coffee and too much cologne.

"Whoa. You really do work too much."

"I'm not in the mood for sex tonight." Blaine said, his jaw working as he ground his teeth, and Kurt frowned. "Which I'd have told you if you called instead of just coming over unannounced."

"But–" Kurt stammered. "I'm not... I just wanted to ask you out, to–"

Something flashed over Blaine's face, lightning-quick.

"Kurt, which part of just sex don't you understand? Stop romanticizing this, we're not dating, we're not going out anywhere. I'm not your boyfriend. I will never be your boyfriend." Blaine looked angry now, his face hard, almost cruel. "Either you can accept this for what it is or we should end it."

Kurt took a sharp breath through his clenched throat, face burning with humiliation. He straightened up in a well-practiced pose of calm and control, even as anger started to burn through him.

"Fine. I'll call you when I need a fuck."

***

When Kurt's retreating steps were no longer audible behind the closed door, Blaine put his untouched coffee away with a shaky hand, slid down to the floor and hid his face on his bent knees.