CHAPTER 4

It took Blaine a while to man up and call Kurt the next day, and the very vivid erotic dream he’d had last night didn’t make it any easier, either. He just hoped he’d be able to look at Kurt and not picture him in all sorts of indecent ways. But by four, after walking around the monumental city since early morning, he really needed to sit down, rest and eat something. It was either dinner alone at some random place, or calling Kurt. And he’d had enough of being alone today.

Kurt didn’t sound surprised or irritated when Blaine suggested eating dinner together. He simply said, “Sure. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

Kurt hummed to himself and there was a sound of cabinets opening and closing in the background.

“Anything you don’t eat?”

No explanation then. That was fine.

“Um… snails? Liver? And I don’t really like black olives too much.”

Kurt hummed some more and now Blaine could hear him stirring something vigorously. “Great! Come by within an hour and I’ll let you have your pick.”

The call was disconnected and Blaine looked at his phone, confused. His pick of what? Well, whatever. He’d learn soon enough.

It turned out what Kurt meant was the best pizza Blaine had ever eaten – homemade, with thin crust and plenty of fresh ingredients he got to choose for his half even though he was five minutes late for Kurt’s deadline. As they were sitting on the couch later, full and content, sipping virgin mojitos because it was still hot, Blaine asked.

“Are you still mad at Cooper and Sebastian?”

Kurt laughed good-naturedly. “No, but don’t tell them, they deserve to suffer some more. That was thoughtless of them; you didn’t need to hear all that.”

“I didn’t mind.” Surprisingly, Blaine managed not to blush at all.

Kurt shook his head. “I did. It made me look like a walking stereotype. I don’t want you to think that’s how it is once you’re out of high school and in a place where you can be yourself.”

“Kurt. I know. It’s okay.”

Blue-grey eyes looked at Blaine inquisitively for a moment before Kurt nodded. “Okay then.”

Blaine decided to change the topic.

“I wanted to ask – would you mind if I came over sometimes and played the piano? I haven’t been away from mine for longer than a week in years, and I don’t want to get rusty.”

Kurt smiled and waved his hand towards the instrument.

“Sure, as long as you don’t play when I’m asleep – I don’t mind it when I work or do other things. In fact, just get the keys from Coop and come whenever you want. My work schedule is on the refrigerator, so you can look up when I’m going to be out if you’d rather play then.”

Blaine had a little trouble believing his ears.

“Wait, you want me to just… come and go, even if you’re not here?”

Kurt shrugged. “Sure. Why, are you actually a teenage delinquent and just hiding it well?"

Blaine blushed. "No, but –"

Kurt waved away his astonishment.

"I have no reason not to trust you. And I rather like you, so feel invited to hang out whenever you like. Or... almost; I'll let you know when it's um... better not to." He shook his head and quickly changed the topic. "Oh, by the way – if you want to visit at the theater some time, that’s fine, too. Just come over one day when I’m there, I’ll get you a visitor’s pass and introduce you to the crew, so that you can come whenever you want. They won't mind.”

“Wow,” was the only thing Blaine managed to say. And then he caught himself and added, “Thank you, Kurt. You’re amazing.”

This was going to be the best summer ever.

During the next week they fell into an easy routine of seeing each other every day. It wasn’t planned – it just happened between Blaine dropping by to play the piano, visiting the theater (Kurt took him to an elderly security guard and got him a pass, introducing him as “a friend from Ohio who may be visiting a lot this summer”) and going out together to see the less touristy sides of New York. And oh, how Blaine loved his tour through Broadway! Kurt knew so much about its history, so many anecdotes and trivia that by the end of the evening Blaine’s head was spinning and he was more in love with theater than ever before. He might be also a tiny bit infatuated with his personal tour guide, he admitted to himself as they were walking back to Cooper’s apartment later that night. Although, he corrected himself quickly, it was probably just the glass of wine Kurt ordered for him at dinner.

All in all, Blaine felt better and happier than he had in a long time. He let himself forget about the problems with his father and enjoy his time here until he went back home at the end of August. Even the drama with Nathan, when put into broader perspective of what life could offer him outside of Ohio, felt like merely a dark dot on the film of his memory. He was in a wonderful city with his brother, he had his music and an opportunity to see with his own eyes how a Broadway show was made, and he was quickly becoming friends with a gorgeous, fascinating man who understood him like nobody else.

Life was good.

 “Hey. Don’t mind me, I’m annoyed.”

Kurt welcomed Blaine one afternoon in the middle of his second week in New York. He’d just arrived at Kurt’s apartment after spending the morning walking around, listening to street musicians – they fascinated him, and some he’d met today were really good.

He washed his hands under the kitchen tap and leaned against the counter. “Did something happen?”

Kurt ground his teeth, then winced at the sound.

“Peterson happened, and his stupid episodic role in some idiotic TV series.” Blaine nodded for him to keep going – he knew most of the actors by name by now, and Peterson was the male lead. “He can’t do his fitting tomorrow afternoon, so I have to get up at ten fucking a.m. and drag my ass to the theater just for him. God, I hate alarm clocks. I’ll be a bitch tomorrow, just so you know.”

“I think I’ll survive. Are we still on for dinner though?”

Kurt nodded. “Sure, just don’t say I didn't warn you if I snap at you or something.”

Blaine left early that evening – he had plans for some early morning sightseeing the next day. And if he found himself in a coffeehouse in Kurt’s neighborhood at 9:50 in the morning – well, that was a complete coincidence. But since he was so close, he could just as well buy a non-fat, double-espresso mocha and a muffin for Kurt and drop by to make his morning a little better, right?

Except when he entered Kurt’s apartment at 9:55, tiptoeing to the kitchen and depositing the goodies on the counter, he realized that he had no idea what to do now. His plan – a completely impromptu one, of course – had been to save Kurt from the mean attack of the evil alarm clock, and wake him up with his favorite hot beverage delivery instead. But he couldn’t just let himself into the bedroom! And the smell of coffee wouldn’t get through the closed door – at least not strongly enough to wake Kurt up.

But… something else would. It was only two minutes to ten when Blaine sat at the piano and started playing a soft, sweet melody – quietly at first, then gradually stronger, though never actually loud. He didn’t hear much from the bedroom, but the alarm clock never went off and five minutes after ten Kurt opened the door and smiled at him.

“I think I’ll forgive you for playing while I was sleeping. That was a nice way to wake up, Blaine.”

***

Kurt hated alarm clocks with a passion. A device that jerked you awake without any consideration for the fact that you were in the middle of a dream or in the worst possible sleep phase was nothing but evil.

Beautiful music, on the other hand, that tangled in your dreams and gently led you towards consciousness, was a very nice wake-up call. Kurt managed to turn off his alarm clock just before it blared, and by the time he opened his bedroom door, fully dressed, he was awake enough to determine that despite the ungodly hour, he was only sleepy, not murderously annoyed. Nothing that a large dose of caffeine couldn’t cure. Mm, maybe the handsome pianist in his living room had thought to make coffee?

It turned out he’d done more than that. A strong, hot mocha – in a travel mug to keep it hot, even! – and a fresh blueberry muffin were waiting for Kurt on the kitchen counter, and wow, when was the last time any of the men he dated had thought about that? Just a simple thing, breakfast and coffee, but it showed how thoughtful Blaine was. And they hadn’t even had sex. Not to mention, Blaine took care to pay attention and remember Kurt’s coffee order, which felt strangely touching.

Damn, he’d make an amazing boyfriend. Attractive, with a fashion sense, well-mannered, caring, thoughtful… And they talked for hours sometimes, never running out of topics, and Kurt really enjoyed these conversations. Sure, Blaine was younger, less knowledgeable about how the world worked, and a little naïve, but he was enthusiastic and passionate, and intellectually, an equal partner for Kurt, which didn’t happen all that often among the guys he met.

By the time he was halfway through his mocha, Kurt’s brain woke up properly and put an end to his little fantasy, leaving him on the verge of a pity party titled “I would so date him if he wasn’t ten years younger and my best friend’s brother”. Sighing, Kurt finished his breakfast and pushed the thought out of his mind, though Blaine’s smiling eyes over the piano keys made it quite a challenge.

Two days later, Kurt was working late at the empty theater. Or rather, wasting time waiting for an actor who got stalled by some cat trouble. He’d called, rambling something about a vet appointment, delays and traffic, and Kurt was sympathetic, he really was, but he had to sew this guy’s costume tonight, before diving into the nightmare that was the period dresses. He was on a schedule, and he could do nothing without pinning the parts properly on a living breathing body.

A knock on his open door snapped him out of his annoyed thoughts.

“Hi! I was passing by and the guard outside told me you’re still here. I thought I’d drop by to say hello.”

Blaine was standing in the doorway, looking… wow, definitely different. He was in simple black yoga pants and a tight black tank top. A few dark tendrils of his hair had escaped the careful styling and were curling adorably on his forehead and temples. This was the least put together Kurt had ever seen him, and he had to admit that he really enjoyed the view.

But his professional eye saw something else besides a hot boy, and the next second Kurt was shuffling through his papers to check the measurements. If he was right – and he had years of practice in judging these things, so he most likely was – there might be a way to save his evening after all. He found the right page and read through it quickly to refresh his memory. Yes! Blaine’s posture and frame were very similar to Bell’s, the actor he was waiting for. Kurt could do the fitting with a substitute, and then correct any slight differences at a later time.

“How tall are you?”

Blaine seemed a little taken aback at the sudden question. “Um… Five nine?”

“No you’re not, stop that.” Kurt got up and stood by Blaine. “Five seven, maybe a little bit more. Excellent! Now strip.”

“Wh- what?”

Kurt turned from the pile of fabric pieces, cut and prepared for tailoring. Blaine’s shocked face made him stop and rewind the last minute of conversation, and he snorted quietly as he realized what it must have sounded like. Standard: his brain was miles ahead of his mouth again.

“Sorry, no, it’s not what it sounds like.” He said, leaning against the edge of his desk. “It’s just – would you mind modeling a costume for me? I need to fit it and prepare for sewing, and the actor is disastrously late – at this rate I won’t be home until ten at least, and I have a lot to do tonight. You’re built very much like him, so if you could… It would help me a lot, and I just need fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of your time.”

“And… stripping?”

“Oh, just to your underwear, obviously.”

Blaine glanced around quickly as if searching for an escape route. He looked uncertain when he looked back at Kurt.

“Um, sure, just… I’ve just been to the gym and I’m all sweaty and disgusting. There was a crowd there tonight so I thought I could shower at home and –“

Oh. So that was the problem, a little sweat?

“It’s okay, I don’t mind at all.”

“But –“

Blaine still looked like a deer in the highlights, and in normal circumstances it would make Kurt back off. Tonight, however, he really wanted to go home and get down to work already. He made his best pleading face, knowing full well he was playing dirty. Well, it wasn’t like he planned to sexually assault the boy.

“Please?” He tilted his head a little for a better effect, but then grew serious as a thought came to him. “Unless you’re uncomfortable with it, I mean.“

Blaine shook his head and laughed shakily.

“No, it’s okay, if you really don’t mind me being gross... So what, should I take it all off?”

Kurt beamed at him. “Great! Thank you, you're helping me so much. Just the top first, okay? I’ll start with the shirt and vest.”

He turned away to pick the right pieces of fabric and when he looked back at Blaine… No, he didn’t gasp, why would he? He’d been with a lot of attractive men – he had standards, okay? So it wasn’t a gasp, just a little surprised inhalation. Barely audible, really. Yes.

He just didn’t expect Blaine to look… well, like that. He was seventeen, for gods’ sake (almost eighteen, his treacherous mind whispered). Seventeen-year-old boys didn’t look like Greek gods – all olive skin and muscled arms, toned chests with a scattering of dark hair, and tiny waists with a sharp V down their sides leading the eyes dangerously lower.

They didn’t, right? At least, Kurt couldn’t remember that from his high school locker rooms.

Blaine shifted under his eye (stare, Kurt, it was totally a stare, you creepy creep) and that finally spurred Kurt into action. He moved closer and started fitting the pinned pieces of the shirt. He chatted as he worked; not only trying to relax Blaine, who was clearly tense, but for his own benefit as well. He needed to keep himself from thinking about all the tanned, salty skin just begging to be licked, so close, radiating warmth and the heady combined smell of man and hot summer and some sort of citrusy aftershave. Really, just thinking about it was inappropriate.

“So you were at a gym? Which one?” He stood behind Blaine and straightened the fabric on his back a little to make the seam even. Blaine shrugged, sliding it out of symmetry again.

“The one that Cooper goes to. He said I could use his membership while I’m here because he doesn’t have time for it now anyway. I box when I’m at Dalton, so I thought it would be good to practice now and then while I’m here.”

Ngh.

Focus on not sticking him with a pin, you perv. Your kink for sweaty guys can wait until later. At home. With a bottle of lube, or something.

“Um. Boxing, you say.”

Blaine hummed, sounding a little distracted. The muscles in his stomach fluttered under Kurt’s fingertips as he smoothed the thin cotton to fit properly.

“Uh, yeah. I took it up after being bullied so much at my old high school. I didn’t want to be defenseless anym-oh-ore.”

The breathy little stutter was a result of Kurt sliding his hands down Blaine’s sides to check the fit.

“Sorry, did I stick you?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

"Okay then, let's do the sleeves now."

***

Blaine was having an increasingly hard time distracting himself from Kurt’s proximity; his subtle scent that surrounded him like a warm, heady mist; his hands – fleetingly touching, smoothing the fabric, always close in their cool softness.

He survived the shirt fitting, and the vest was easier with a thicker barrier of fabrics between their skin. Blaine distracted himself further by telling Kurt about his newest musical discoveries on the streets. But then… Then it was time to tailor the pants.

It wasn’t like Blaine had never stripped to his underwear in front of other guys before – of course he had: locker rooms, swimming pools… he was a normal boy, after all. It was just… he’d never undressed in front of a guy he kind of… liked. And was extremely attracted to. And while he was by no means ashamed of his body, right now he really felt gross, dried sweat making his skin sticky, his hair probably a mess. Not a way to impress a man, really. He hoped he didn’t smell.

Okay, here goes…

The next moment he stood before Kurt in nothing but his red boxer briefs, his face hot with a blush. Thankfully, Kurt was all business, preparing the fabric pieces, fastening them together around Blaine’s hips, then moving around to –

Oh-kay. Think unsexy thoughts now. Quick! What’s not sexy? Oh! Cooper’s attempt at roast beef last night. Homeless bums on the subway. People cleaning up after their dogs in Central Park. Good, very good, Anderson. Keep that up (or, actually, down).

Kurt had just finished tailoring the pants in his ass region and moved to the legs, which meant…

Holy shit. More unsexy, now. Vaginas. STDs. My parents having sex. Ew!

Fuck, really? Nothing’s working?

Of course nothing was working, because Kurt Hummel was currently kneeling before him with his face right in front of Blaine’s crotch, and was pinning the fabric on the side leg seam, occasionally ghosting his fingers over the sensitive skin of Blaine’s inner thigh. Which was, well, simply too much for a hormonal teenage boy to endure without any sort of reaction, okay?

Just, deep breathing. It would be over soon. Maybe Kurt didn’t even notice? Yeah, no – a rapidly growing bulge at your eye level was usually hard to miss.

Fuck. Oops, no thinking about fucking. Or mattresses. Or, really, just.

Could the earth swallow him already?

It took several torturous minutes that felt as if they would never end before Kurt stood up and nodded, apparently satisfied with the effects of his work. Um, the tailoring effects, obviously, not the other effects. Kurt was gracious enough not to mention Blaine’s problem at all.

He must have gotten a cramp, poor man, kneeling on the floor in his tight pants like that, because he was moving slightly awkwardly when he got up and stepped away to let Blaine get dressed. And if Kurt’s hands seemed to tremble a little and his eyes were darker than usual, it must have been Blaine’s imagination.

There was no other explanation.