CHAPTER 2

Behind the closed door of his studio Kurt was cutting and pinning yards of deep red velvet, listening to the soft notes coming from his living room. Before he shut himself in here, making sure first that Blaine was okay with waiting for his brother at his place rather than Cooper's, he told the boy that he could do whatever he wanted while Kurt worked. He gave him the wifi access password and the TV remote, pointed him towards his movies and book collections – but Blaine only asked if he could use the piano standing neglected in the corner. It had come with the apartment and Kurt used to play regularly, but lately he hadn’t really felt like it.

It was after nine now, and the music had been flowing for the last hour. If Kurt didn’t know it was the teenager in his living room, he’d swear it had to be a recording. The boy was good. Some pieces Kurt knew, having played them himself, though never with such proficiency, he had to admit. Others sounded like piano interpretations of some top 40 hits and, to his surprise, songs from the rehearsal Blaine had just attended.

The kid had never heard these songs before, he’d said so himself. When Kurt had finished with the fittings and gone to get Blaine, he’d found him breathless and awed, enchanted with everything. The theater, the actors, the rehearsal process and the play itself. And now, Kurt could clearly recognize the melodies he knew by heart after hearing them dozens of times. The boy just improvised on them from the few times he heard them, without so much as a false note. Just another impressive thing about Blaine Anderson.

Which didn’t change the fact that Kurt was currently hiding from him in the seclusion of his studio.

So far, Blaine had proven to be easy company, so the dread Kurt had felt this morning thinking about hours he’d have to spend “babysitting” was mostly gone now. They’d talked amicably all through dinner at Kurt’s favorite Greek place (he’d insisted on paying this time, joking about making an exception from his “only pay on dates” rule, which made Blaine blush to the roots of his hair).

But by the time they made it back to Kurt’s apartment, the boy grew quiet and kept looking longingly at his silent phone, clearly pining. Kurt understood, he really did, but suddenly he felt exhausted. No matter how good the company, he wasn’t used to spending so much time with other people. Maybe he wasn’t exactly a loner, but he had a very strong need for independence and time alone. When he was with someone, he always gave his all – all his attention and care, but that much focus could only be maintained for a certain amount of time. And today he was exhausted, too. So when they got to the apartment, his crankiness was close to bubbling over, and he didn’t want it to explode all over the kid who did nothing wrong, after all.

That’s why he escaped to his workroom. It was his happy place, and with the music soothing his frayed nerves, his irritation melted away bit by bit. While still tired, he got the second wind he needed.

The piano went silent for a moment before the soft notes came back, arranged into a familiar melody. Before Kurt could recognize the song, he heard a voice sing along, warm and smooth, and he stopped arranging the fabric on the mannequin and just listened, transfixed.

You think I’m pretty without any make-up on
You think I’m funny when I tell the punch line wrong
I know you get me so I let my walls come down – down…

The popular song was softened in this version, slowed down until it was more like a ballad than a pop hit, and it sounded lovely, sung with so much emotion that Blaine’s voice trembled slightly and broke in places. It had to have a special meaning for him, maybe somehow connected with the ex-boyfriend? It almost felt like eavesdropping on a private moment, but Kurt couldn’t help enjoying what he heard. Blaine clearly hadn’t been chosen for the frontman of his Glee club for no reason.

The last notes of Teenage Dream melted into silence and the apartment went silent for a long while before Kurt heard the quiet chatter of the TV in the background. He smiled to himself and sat down to begin sewing the first of three gowns he needed to get started on tonight.

The next time Kurt looked up from his sewing, it was almost eleven – pretty early by his standards, but where the hell was Cooper? His work day normally ended at six, and while it wasn’t unusual for him to still be in his office at eight, doing whatever it was he did, today it was really going too far, even for him. Especially when his baby brother had just arrived to stay with him for the summer.

Kurt checked his phone, in case he missed a text, but there was nothing. Really, he’d have to kick Coop’s ass the minute he appeared – the kid could really use some support from at least someone in his family. Shaking his head incredulously, Kurt got up from the machine, stretched and went to check on Blaine.

The TV was still on, some mindless talk show filling the silence, but Blaine wasn’t watching. Curled on his side on the couch, he was asleep, looking small and very young. Kurt sighed and took a soft red blanket from the back of the couch to cover the sleeping boy. As he was tucking it gently around Blaine’s shoulders, he noticed something small and grey on the black rug and reached to pick it up. It was a little fuzzy teddy bear, not bigger than his hand. Blaine must have held it as he fell asleep. It looked new, so Kurt doubted it was a childhood memento – more likely a gift from the boyfriend; something familiar to hold onto in this faraway city, in a strange apartment.

God, the kid must feel so alone here.

Kurt remembered what it felt like to be rejected, unaccepted and called names just because he was gay. He remembered the pain of his first breakup, too (and he'd also had a memento – the guy’s scarf that he'd found in his room and carried with him everywhere for weeks). But he was never without support. He had his family. And here Blaine was, having endured both rejection and breakup just the previous day – alone.

The anger that flared in Kurt’s chest wasn’t new, but it was hotter than usual. It was bad enough when it was about strangers, anonymous boys and girls on the news that were only connected to him by a similar fate, the fact that their sexuality (or gender identification, for that matter) made their lives that much more challenging. But now, it wasn’t a stranger – it was Kurt’s best friend’s little brother; it was a kind, incredibly talented boy with wide golden eyes and a hunger for life; a kid who really deserved so much better than what he was getting from his own family.

And this time, Kurt’s anger would find the proper recipient.

He tucked the little teddy into Blaine’s half-open hand, switched off the TV and lights, went to his bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him, already choosing the number from his phone.

***

Cooper was on his way when Kurt called. Ten minutes later he let himself in with his set of keys – and was immediately grabbed and pulled into the bedroom, the door closing behind him like a deathtrap. Cooper knew Kurt way too well to even try to excuse himself – the steely glint in those narrowed eyes meant trouble. So he just braced himself for the explosion.

“Cooper Evan Anderson.” Uh-oh. Full name and a hissy voice? It was worse than he'd imagined. “Where the hell have you been? It’s close to midnight.”

“At wo-“ The sound Kurt made could have easily come from an angry cat.

“Don’t you tell me about work, Cooper. Which part of It’s almost midnight don’t you understand? Have you taken to dancing in a strip bar after hours to supplement your salary? Your younger brother has been waiting for you all day, in case you forgot.”

Cooper was tired – the day had been long and demanding, only the first in a whole hard week. He really didn’t need Kurt to unload his frustrations on him tonight. He sighed heavily and raised his hands in a placating gesture, annoyance slipping into his voice.

“Okay, okay, I’m taking him out of your hair right now. It’s not like you had to be with him all day, you know – I told you to just drop him off at my apartment, didn’t I?”

Apparently it was exactly the wrong thing to say, judging by the anger flashing on Kurt’s face, intense enough for Cooper to retreat half a step. Kurt wasn’t a big man, and never violent, but trying to ignore him when he was in a foul mood would be like trying to ignore a charging rhino: very unwise.

“Cooper. In the last 36 hours this kid has been verbally abused by his homophobic father and dumped by his boyfriend; he contacted his brother who hadn’t talked to him for god knows how long to ask him for help; he flew to New York only to spend the whole first day here with a virtual stranger. Don’t you think he needs a break? Support from his own family, maybe? He’s seventeen, Cooper. Remember when you were seventeen? Because I do. And I can’t imagine going through something like this alone.”

Okay, ouch. This was poking right where it hurt. Cooper knew he was taking his usual way out – all day he'd kept busy not to think about Blaine, to push it away and deal with it later. It worked, just like not thinking about his family problems always worked. It was an automatic reaction by now, but here was Kurt, forcing him to face the situation. Trying to squirm away wouldn’t work, he knew, but he tried anyway. He sat heavily on the end of the bed.

“I told you before, I have no parental instincts. I’d be the worst parent in the world. I can give Blaine a place to stay and feed him, but-“

Kurt looked at him, exasperated. “It’s not like you have a choice, darling! Your brother is here and he needs more than food and accommodation – he needs you. So stop whining and behave like an adult, dammit. If it helps, I think the worst parent prize was already claimed by your father." He paused and shook his head. "I don’t get it, why are you so distant towards Blaine? He said it hadn’t always been like this and I know for a fact that you are a caring guy. So what happened?” 

Cooper sighed and dropped his aching head into his hands. He wasn’t proud of what he was about to say. It felt like confessing to a crime.

“When Blaine came out three years ago, I was there. At home. My father threw a massive fit, my mom looked thunderstruck, and Bee ran to his room crying. I tried to talk to them, convince them that it was fine, make them accept him. It ended with a fight between me and father, the worst ever. I left that night and never came back.”

“You left Blaine there alone.” Kurt spoke quietly now, icily calm.

“Yes. I couldn’t look him in the eye after that. I didn’t know what to tell him. So I said nothing.”

He could feel Kurt’s warm hand on his shoulder, offering comfort he didn't feel he deserved.

“Coop. Now's your chance to change that, to be the hero he used to see in you. Did you know that until today he's been half-convinced that you disapproved of his sexuality too?”

Cooper’s throat tightened painfully, the emotions he always kept at bay rushing out like an avalanche now.  “God. Where is he? I’ll take him home.”

Kurt shook his head, his voice softer now. “He’s asleep on the couch; let him be. Just make sure to call him tomorrow morning, okay? And for once, leave work when you’re supposed to and take Blaine home, spend some time with him.”

“I will, I promise." That would be hard, but it didn't matter. He'd make it happen. "Thank you, Kurt.”

“It’s okay. You really have an exceptional brother, you know? You should be proud of him.”

***

After Cooper had gone home, Kurt only managed to sew for two more hours before his tired brain refused to cooperate any longer. He checked on Blaine, left a note on the coffee table, telling him to feel free to shower and fix himself breakfast; then he returned to the bedroom, stripped and dropped to bed, falling asleep immediately.

He woke up just after noon, feeling well-rested. His brain needed time – and coffee – to wake up fully, so Kurt pulled on a pair of boxers, stretched and wandered out from the bedroom, trying to remember what day it was and if he had any plans for today. A sharp gasp greeted him as he entered the living area. Oh, right. Coop’s brother.

“Morning,” he mumbled, not pausing on his way to the kitchen. Once there, he hummed with appreciation. Coffee had been freshly brewed and the divine smell was wafting in the air, so Kurt quickly fixed a big cup of his morning café-au-lait.

Halfway through the coffee, Kurt’s brain began to register things – like Blaine’s wide-eyed expression. The boy was blushing, clearly trying not to stare, but failing spectacularly. Kurt looked down at himself, noting his state of undress, sleepy neurons lazily connecting things.

“Oh. Sorry, I should probably put something on. Just give me a moment.”

He went back to his coffee while Blaine muttered something that sounded like a choked “It’s okay” and turned back to the laptop on his knees.

When the coffee finally kicked in, Kurt realized that he was standing in his kitchen naked save for his underwear, mere ten feet from a seventeen-year-old he’d only met yesterday, and not in intimate circumstances. Not that he’d ever been in intimate circumstances with a seventeen-year-old, but that was not the point. The point was – his brain, awake now, helpfully supplied – that just last night he’d told Coop that he remembered being that age. He really did; and while he was completely comfortable about his body now, back then he’d have probably been mortified if an almost-naked man had sashayed into the room.

On the other hand – there was still coffee in his cup. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it and going to shower and dress.

He glanced at Blaine again, catching the boy mid-stare and making him blush pretty pink, and sighed.

“You’re probably not used to guys running around in their underwear first thing in the… um, afternoon. Sorry, my brain is useless until I power it with coffee, I forgot you were here. I hope I haven’t scarred you for life.”

Blaine chuckled softly, still blushing. “Don’t worry. You’re just… really good looking. Like, model-level of good looking.” He blushed an even deeper pink.

Kurt laughed and ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. “Thank you, although I seriously doubt that right at this moment. And thanks for making coffee, by the way. It’s excellent.”

Blaine grinned like a praised child. “Cooper told me how strong you like it.”

Kurt raised his eyebrow. “Oh, so he called?”

“Yes." Judging by Blaine’s happy smile, it must have been a good call, too. "We talked for a long while. He said he’d be here at 6:30 to take me to his place.”

Kurt glanced at the clock. They still had almost six hours to fill. Swallowing the rest of his coffee, he made a quick decision.

“Okay, I don’t have to go to the theater today, so I’m free until seven. The temperature outside seems bearable, too, so why don’t we go for an introductory-level New York tour? I’ll show you how to move around here to be safe and avoid getting completely lost.”

***

It was well after midnight and the apartment was settling into nocturnal silence around Blaine. Through the wall, he could hear his brother’s soft snoring. He was sitting on the mattress that would serve him as a bed for the next nine weeks, his back against the wall and a thick, well-worn notebook in his lap.

Cooper’s apartment turned out to be big, tastefully furnished and messy even when freshly cleaned. The spare room that was turned into Blaine’s space for the summer had been hastily emptied of all the stuff that had accumulated there over the years. It was small but cozy and Blaine liked it immediately. Now, with all his things placed in the dresser and on the shelves, it felt homey already.

He fluffed the pillow supporting his back and looked through the last five pages of writing. So much had happened today that he’d felt the need to write down – meeting his brother for the first time in three years; the long, honest conversation over dinner; Coop’s explanation and apology for leaving him like he had.

And then there was the part that made Blaine blush – the part about Kurt.

He’d hesitated before writing about his reaction to seeing Kurt earlier today. But he’d always been completely open in his journal – it was the only place where he didn’t censor himself in any way. So after a short pause, Blaine picked up his pen again and let the words flow.

The problem with this kind of writing was that while it helped to get things out, sometimes it made the pictures and urges stronger, harder to resist. This was one of those times.

After a long while of frantic writing, Blaine closed the notebook and put it into a desk drawer. He didn’t try to hide it, not here – he was pretty sure Cooper wouldn’t go through his things. The lamp switched off, he fought with himself for a while longer – it really seemed inappropriate. Kurt was not only ten years older than him; he was also Cooper’s best friend. But the temptation was too strong, and it wasn’t like anyone would know anyway – so soon Blaine was tugging at his pajama pants and making sure he had tissues at hand.

His mind was already replaying that glorious moment when Kurt had wandered out of his bedroom, all perfect creamy skin and toned muscles, causing Blaine’s brain to short-circuit immediately. His reaction had been so strong it must have seemed weird, but Blaine couldn’t have helped it – just as he couldn’t help how his cock jumped at the mere picture in his head now.

Blaine was a visual kind of person – pictures and the printed word influenced him intensely. And ever since he’d started to think about sex, it had always been the thought of seeing, not touching, that affected him the most. In the time he’d been with Nathan, Blaine had gotten off countless times to the fantasy of undressing his boyfriend, seeing his body at last; his cock – not just feeling it through denim against his hip. It turned him on even more than the prospect of being touched himself. And he’d been so close to being able to finally see for the first time when his father had walked in on them.

So seeing Kurt today, messy-haired and sleepy, completely unselfconscious, had sent Blaine into the state of almost painful arousal so quickly he'd felt light-headed. Now, behind closed eyelids he saw the sun playing on Kurt’s back as he fixed his coffee. He remembered the thick outline of his cock, morning erection still straining against the black cotton of his boxers, and he had to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape his lips. His hand picked up speed, frantic movement over too-dry skin, as snapshots whirled in his head – Kurt’s sea-colored eyes, sleepy and dazed; his hair looking like they might after sex; his blissful expression when he drank his coffee. God, if that was enough to make him look so erotic, what must he look like when he came?

And since in fantasies everything was allowed, he let himself imagine Kurt falling apart under his – Blaine’s – hands, his lips; over him, buried deep in him. It was the last thought that did it, seizing his muscles and painting his stomach with strings of hot come as he bit his fist to stop himself from crying out through the intensity of his release.

***

A block away, in his apartment, Kurt moaned with abandon as his hips stuttered and he came into his date’s eager mouth.