At the show he was in costume so he wasn’t really looking at Kurt, but the character he was playing. He doubted Kurt would walk around freely in a poet’s shirt and black pants. The only other times he had seen him was when Kurt hadn’t been expecting it and he’d been dressed fairly causal, in hoodies and jeans. Tonight however, he was able to see what Kurt Hummel looked like on a date and it wasn’t half bad.

Dark pants with knee high boots and a navy shirt with a red bowtie. He wasn’t the type of guy Blaine usually went for, but he was dressed adequate enough that Blaine wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with him.

When Kurt saw him his expression changed from anxious to something Blaine hadn't seen in a date since high school. His face softened and he grinned nervously at Blaine, his obvious eagerness shining in his eyes.

This is going to be easy, Blaine thought to himself.

"Hey," Kurt said, putting his hands into his pockets.

"Hey yourself," Blaine purred back, earning a bashful look from Kurt. "Shall we go?" Kurt nodded and followed Blaine as he set off down the street.

"Where are we going?" Kurt asked, his eyes trailing down Blaine's form. It occurred to him that apart from their meeting in the alleyway, Kurt had only really seen Blaine sitting down.

His gaze travelled over Blaine’s face but then snapped away when he realised Blaine had noticed him staring.

"There's this coffee shop I like to go to," Blaine started, clearing his throat. He paused and added, "Does a decent medium drip."

"That's your drink?" Kurt asked casually.

Blaine clicked his tongue and said slowly, "Uh yeah." He never let anyone know too much about him if he could help it and he didn't know why it felt weird telling Kurt this small piece of information but it somehow did. It was just his coffee order, nothing major. It wasn't like he'd told Kurt when his birthday was or what his grandmother used to call him when he was young. It was just coffee. And this date, it was just coffee.

“Grande non-fat mocha,” Kurt said a few minutes later.

“Huh?” Blaine asked.

“That’s uh – my drink, in case you were wondering,” Kurt said shyly, pink heat rising up his neck.

“Oh right,” Blaine said, unsure of what to say next.

When they reached the coffee house, Blaine held open the door to allow Kurt, who gave him a small smile, to walk in first. The coffee house was a non-brand place, cosy, with several mis-matched sofas and comfy chairs scattered around the room. Small tables, enough for a couple mugs and a plate or two were positioned beside or between chairs. There was a small stage right at the back with a single stool and microphone on a stand located in the middle.

Kurt beamed around the room and at the other people sitting in pairs or in groups of four or five, chatting to each other as though they had nothing else to do but drink coffee, eat biscuits and hang out with their friends.

“Hey Joe, a grande non-fat mocha and a medium drip,” Blaine said to the man behind the counter.

“Sure thing, take a seat. I’ll bring them over,” the man said, grabbing two mugs from under the counter and a bottle of milk from a fridge beside them.

Blaine motioned towards a double seated sofa near the stage. The only light coming from a floor lamp against the wall. It gave the sofa a soft glow atmosphere.

Kurt sat down first, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. “It’s lovely here,” he said sincerely. Blaine merely nodded in agreement. Neither of them spoken until their coffees arrived. Kurt took a few tentative sips of his before deeming it too hot and putting it on the table in front of them to cool down.

“So Blaine, tell me about yourself,” Kurt said brightly, his attention firmly on Blaine, who blinked back in response.

“Uh, I don’t know really…” Blaine started. He really didn’t. Usually his dates… well, conquests more like, just needed to know two things about him. The first being ‘your place or mine?’ and the second, ‘are you clean?’ Blaine had never been out with someone who seemed genuinely interested in hearing his life story. And given what his life story was, he didn’t feel very keen on sharing it.

“Oh come on!” Kurt said, smiling politely. “The only things I really know about you is your first name, your coffee order and that you like Broadway shows.” He chuckled and continued to smile at Blaine imploringly.

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck gingerly. What could he really say? “Okay, what do you want to know?”

Kurt made a hmm noise before saying, “How about an easy one. What is your last name?”

Blaine smirked. “Anderson.”

Kurt nodded, a warm smile playing across his lips as he soundlessly repeated the name, trying it out on his tongue. “Okay, question two. Are you from New York originally?”

Safe enough question. “No, I’m from Ohio,” he replied. Blaine’s eyebrows shot up when Kurt suddenly gasped, his own eyes widening. It took a moment for Blaine to realise why Kurt was shocked. He’s from Ohio too, dummy. It was in that newspaper article St James was sobbing over.

“Sorry, it’s just… I’m from Ohio too. You don’t meet many of us in New York,” Kurt said. “Where abouts -?”

“Westerville,” Blaine said. There was no point in lying.

Kurt smiled sweetly at him. “I lived in Lima, that’s only a couple of hours away, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Blaine said. “So uh, you’re a really good singer,” he said, changing the subject swiftly before talks of why did you leave Ohio? came up.

Kurt looked slightly embarrassed, his cheeks flushed pink. “Oh thank you,” he replied. “I was in the Glee club at my High School,” he added.

“So was I,” Blaine said, before he could stop himself. He inwardly cursed himself. Where did this sudden verbal spillage come from? His shifted in his seat uncomfortably, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter.

“You were?” Kurt asked, astounded. He placed a hand on Blaine’s knee before pulling away as though his jeans were on fire. “I mean, you were, that’s cool. I didn’t know you sang. Do you think we ever competed against each other? With us living so close?”

“I’d remember you if we had,” Blaine said in almost a growl, his own hand resting on Kurt’s knee without issue. He saw Kurt swallow hard as his eyes ran up Blaine’s arm to his face. As Kurt’s eyes bore into his own, Blaine felt his confidence shake for a moment and he found himself saying, “I was only a Warbler for a year before I left school.”

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. “I think I remember the Warblers. Preppy guys in blazers? No wonder you left!” He laughed almost nervously, his eyes darting between Blaine’s face and his hand, which was still resting firmly on Kurt’s knee. Blaine could see that Kurt was trying to act cool but his shield was partly down and he could see the panic behind his eyes and at the way his bottom lip was quivering slightly at Blaine’s touch.

“So do I get to ask questions about you?” Blaine asked. He moved his hand away, smirking at the way Kurt’s expression looked slightly crestfallen at the loss.

“Oh, um sure,” Kurt said, blinking a few times as he refocused his attention on Blaine. “What do you want to know?”

Blaine considered the question for a moment, his lips perking up as he settled on one. “Why did you agree to go out with me?”

The small panic Blaine noticed before was back and stronger behind Kurt’s eyes. His breath hitched as he mumbled something Blaine couldn’t make out, chewing his bottom lip absently.

“Sorry?” Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows imploringly.

“I said, because I thought you were cute,” Kurt admitted, his entire face scarlet. He wouldn’t look at Blaine, instead focusing on his hands in his lap.

Blaine had been called many things but cute wasn’t one of them. He reached forwards, cupping Kurt’s face with one of his hands, forcing him to look up. Blaine’s lips parted for a moment as he took Kurt in, looking bashful and beautiful and shy all at once, with his pink lips and his eyes – somehow blue, green and grey all at once.

Blaine almost forgot what he was going to say. He ran his fingers along the base of Kurt’s neck and whispered, “This timid act of yours is a big turn on,” before leaning further in, brushing his lips against Kurt’s throat in a chaste kiss. He felt Kurt shudder against him and when he pulled back Kurt’s eyes were closed.

Leaning back against the sofa, Blaine picked up his mug and started to drink his coffee. Kurt blinked his eyes open several times, looking at Blaine before following suit and taking big gulps of his own coffee.

“Why did – why did you ask me out?” Kurt said after a few minutes. His voice was small and he spoke to his mug.

Ten grand.

“Like I said before, I thought you were beautiful,” Blaine answered as though the question was ridiculous. When Kurt chanced a look up, Blaine took this opportunity to lick along the rim of his mug suggestively. Kurt’s eyes fell back to his own mug almost immediately.

It wasn’t as though Blaine was lying. Kurt was a very beautiful man and he had thought so since the first time he saw his photo in that newspaper article. With his porcelain skin, unbelievably bright and inquisitive eyes and soft kissable lips, Blaine wondered if under different circumstances…

No.

This was a job. Just a job. He had to worm his way into Kurt’s affections (check), fuck him (almost check) and then decide the best way to kill him. Blaine debated his usual method, using the hunting knife Quinn had given him for his birthday but that was too messy. Perhaps an overdose or poison? Something that wouldn’t leave a mark on him. If his face and neck were anything to go by, Blaine imagined that the rest of Kurt’s body must be just as striking. It would be a shame to ruin that.

A second cup of coffee and a plate of biscotti later, Blaine found himself listening to Kurt explain in colourful detail why he loved the theatre, what his favourite shows were and why he adored Phantom of the Opera. He spoke vividly, making gestures with his hands, his face broken out into a bright grin. He was passionate about his work and Blaine found himself listening intently, not wanting to miss a word he said.

It wasn’t often that Blaine found someone with whom he could hold a conversation with. Unbeknown to Quinn and even Jesse, Blaine was a fan of the theatre. As someone who enjoyed singing and who spent most of his time pretending to be someone he wasn’t, the theatre spoke to him. When he had started out with Quinn he still busked in the park before his first pay out. Singing by day and working by night, Blaine felt like a character in some fucked up show where there was no intermission.

Of course after his first couple of clients Blaine didn’t have to play anymore, but that didn’t mean he had stopped. His guitar was his most prized possession, having been a gift from his father before he went to Dalton, before he had come out and when he was actually loved by his parents. He kept it as a reminder as to who he used to be, like how people keep their drunken tattoos as a reminder not to go back to that place again.

Was he happy back then? Being Alexander and Courtney Anderson’s straight A, straight laced son, being prepped for Law School, to follow in the same footsteps as his brother Cooper and his father. He didn’t know what happy was back then.

So was he happy now?

Sitting in this coffee shop in the middle of New York was a man who had treated him with nothing but respect and looked at him like he was the only person in the world? Blaine absently dug his tongue between two of his teeth, trying to dislodge a piece of biscotti as he pondered this.

As Kurt described something funny that happened at work the other day, something about the orchestra pit, an understudy and a hidden bottle of Vodka that send Kurt roaring into laughter, Blaine felt something jolt inside of him at the sight of this man who mere hours ago had blushed under Blaine’s gaze. Kurt who was now grabbing Blaine’s knee, tears streaming from his eyes as he finished his story.

“… and now he has to pay for a replacement trombone!” Kurt wiped his eyes, grinning widely, the dimples in his cheeks taking Blaine’s attention away from whatever happened to the understudy. Kurt’s grin decreased and he instead just smiled as he looked at Blaine almost fondly.

“Are you guys staying for the show?” A voice asked. Joe was standing on the stage, giving the mic two hard taps, listening out for the sign that it was on.

“Oh,” Blaine said, mentally shaking himself. He looked at his watch and realised that he and Kurt had been there for three hours.

Blaine glanced between Kurt, who was watching him intently, and Joe before saying, “Not tonight, maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Kurt asked, voice a little higher. “There’s going to be a next time?” He looked very hopeful, staring at Blaine, his eyes wide and questioning.

“Of course,” Blaine said softly. He cleared his throat. “Yes, if you’d like,” he added in a deeper voice.

Kurt nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. “I’d really like that.”

***

As Blaine walked Kurt home he wondered what his next move should be. Kurt seemed absolutely smitten with him and he was sure that it wouldn’t be hard to seduce him completely. As they walked, Blaine felt Kurt’s arm brush up against his own, his fingers sweeping along the top of his hand. He glanced at Kurt who was chewing his lip again, watching the pavement.

Blaine’s fingertips tingled slightly so he flexed them and said nothing, following Kurt until they stopped outside of an apartment building. Kurt lived in a nice neighbourhood, where there were a row of trees along the pavement and several small businesses across the road. A florist, a caf� and a newsagent to name a few. The building was brick, probably only a few decades old, with a light fitting beside the stain glass window door.

There was a staircase up to the building, which had three floors and what looked like a flat roof area where people would have parties or at least keep roof-top gardens.

“Well this is me,” Kurt said. He reached his hand forwards, hovering it over Blaine’s arm for a moment before taking hold of his bicep. Kurt swallowed and leaned in, placing a closed mouth kiss to his cheek. As he pulled away slowly, his eyes met Blaine’s.

Blaine felt the ghost of Kurt’s lips on his cheek. He furrowed his brow slightly, his eyes darting between Kurt’s own and his lips. As he felt the grip on his arm loosen his brain caught up with him and he found himself grabbing Kurt by the waist with both hands and pulling him close so their bodies were flush together.

He crashed his lips against Kurt’s, causing him to whimper against his mouth. Blaine gripped his hips harder, pressing his fingers into the flesh as he licked along Kurt’s bottom lip. Kurt opened his mouth obligingly as Blaine kissed him harder, swallowing Kurt’s moans. His tongue forced its way into Kurt’s mouth and it took Blaine by surprise when Kurt suddenly sucked on it, causing him to growl, thrusting his hips forwards.

Kurt’s arms reached around Blaine’s shoulders, his fingers raking through his curls as he groaned deep and low. Their chests were pressed firmly together and his shirt must have ridden up because Blaine could feel the cool metal of Kurt’s belt buckle against his bare stomach.

Blaine was starting to feel dizzy, most likely due to the lack of oxygen so he pulled away reluctantly with a wet smack. Both men were panting, their arms still clinging onto the other like they were going to fall if they let go. And fall Blaine feared because Kurt was looking at him and fuck if he didn’t look delicious. His lips were red, swollen and moist and his pupils blown completely so only a thin ring of green could be seen around them.

Kurt was looking at him expectedly, one of his hands on Blaine’s shirt balling the fabric in his fist. When Blaine didn’t say anything Kurt asked in a quiet but sure voice, “Do you want to come upstairs?”