It was a pretty clich�d meet-cute, Blaine was the first to admit it, although he also liked to remind people that the rest of their relationship was about as far from clich�d as one could possibly get. The beginning though, was pretty classic.

Blaine was tired and overworked as usual, his job as an intern at a law firm marking him as “work mule” and “office lackey” to all those above him.

So essentially everybody.

Blaine was accustomed to hard work however, so he didn't usually let his torturous workload get to him, but every once in a while- usually on the tail end of a 50 or 60 hour work week- Blaine needed to unwind and let off some of the steam building up inside of him, lest he burst at the seams.

He would have done this as he always did, by going to his usual bar, ordering his usual beer, and repeating the motions until the pleasant fuzziness of the alcohol turned the horrors of his work week cloudy and vague. He liked to think of it as a survival method; make yourself forget how horrible your job is and you are less likely to simply show up to the office one day with a flamethrower and set fire to the place. But while he would have done this usually, today was not a usual Friday, if for no other reason that Blaine Anderson had broken up with his boyfriend a short month ago after catching him in their bed with another man.

Blaine's problem was that Jeremiah and his new boy toy frequented his bar all too often, and Blaine was in no way prepared to face either of them yet.

A month was a long time to go without releasing steam though, so Blaine decided to do the logical thing and simply find a new haunt.

It wouldn't have been a big deal to most people, in fact Blaine couldn't imagine anybody he knew having the same problem and anxiety over this as he did, but Blaine had always been a creature of habit; since he could tie his own shoes he had abided by the simple routines which now governed him life, from the mundane things to the not so mundane. He always slept on the left side of the bed, otherwise he could hardly sleep a wink. He would always hum a song when he was brushing his teeth in the morning as a vocal warm-up, a throwback to his singing days and the Warbler council's rigorous techniques. He always made his bed the second he exited the bathroom in the mornings, otherwise he would just tumble back into the sheets and not get anything done. He always washed his dishes immediately after he ate, otherwise they would pile up to high heaven and start to reek and Blaine would just keep putting off washing them it was so unpleasant, feeding into the vicious cycle of the dirty dishes.

The way Blaine saw it, having these routines, these habits, was not a bad thing. After all, he was more productive this way, more hygienic and organized, so how could it be a bad thing? But Jeremiah had constantly complained about how Blaine was a control-freak and how he should loosen up, and for a while Blaine had believed him. Blaine had tried to change for Jeremiah, to give up the little things to please his boyfriend but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't change who he was.

He was always quiet and withdrawn when Jeremiah decided to change things up by taking them to some too-loud, too-crowed, too-hot club on Fridays, or when rather than going to his monthly cultural outing- to the MoMa, or a play, or an opera- Jeremiah dragged Blaine to a frat party some friends of his were throwing. Which of course led only to Jeremiah accusing Blaine of sulking when he didn't get his way. Blaine always tried to keep calm when his boyfriend would start yelling and arguing because arguments never seemed to lead to anything to Blaine, but trying to talk things out calmly with Jeremiah had only ever lead to more arguments, and accusations that Blaine thought he was better than him and to stop being so condescending.

After those arguments, their apartment was always silent and tense, and despite Blaine knowing he was in the right, the tension would only dissipate when Blaine couldn't stand to feel like a bad boyfriend any longer and apologized to Jeremiah.

In retrospect, their relationship had been far from sunny, but was it so wrong of Blaine to want to stay with the man he loved? Was it so wrong to want to please him? All Blaine had wanted was to be good enough for him, and although the way Jeremiah would yell and argue all the time should have prepared Blaine for what was coming, the sight of him and his younger, paler, taller replacement in their bed was a rude awakening from his delusion of not being a failure.

Blaine knew that if Jeremiah had strayed it was all Blaine's fault. Even if he hadn't known that, Jeremiah saying as much when he packed up his things and moved out made it very clear.

And so Blaine couldn't go to his usual bar. Because Jeremiah would be there, probably making out in public with his new boy, something that Blaine had never felt comfortable doing. And Blaine simply wasn't ready to have his short-comings rubbed in his face just yet.

Which left Blaine with the anxiety inducing task of finding a new bar. He knew that it would probably take more than a single try to find the right bar; one with dim lighting, a friendly bartender, comfortable booths that offered privacy, had live entertainment with at least some regularity, wasn't too rowdy and wasn't too far from home. Just the thought of having to look for the perfect bar all over again made Blaine's hands break out in a sweat; it had taken him so long to find Barney's Bar too. But of course Jeremiah would take that from Blaine, Jeremiah had taken so much already.

Blaine took a deep breath as he walked down the street. All along it were several bars- Blaine thought the fact he lived by a street so full of bars was both a blessing and a curse, what with having such a variety to choose from- thanking his lucky stars that he had already gone into most of them while on his initial quest for a bar and could therefore cross them off his list. In fact he had gone to all the bars from his building to Barney's which lay seven blocks away from him.

He was only about 5 streets away from his apartment when he caught sight of a bar he didn't remember going into before. It was closer than Barney's so it must have popped up within the past year or two, after he had found the bar from him and had stopped looking.

The bar had large windows on it's front, although thick black curtains hid the view of the inside. The door was heavy and painted a matte black that seemed to absorb the light around it, making it stand out even more than it's classic construction amidst the modern architecture already did. Atop the door, in simple white sans serif letters was the name of the bar.

'Unmasked'

Blaine's lips quirked upwards a bit, thinking to himself that the bar was trying too hard to be trendy. He could already picture the inside, probably more of a club than a bar with girls wearing skirts entirely too short dancing around to music entirely too loud and a bartender entirely too “cool” to care about his clients and would likely not recognize a regular if they slapped him in the face.

Blaine pushed the door completely prepared to hate the place and quickly move on to the next bar but the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

The inside of the bar was more reminiscent of a lounge than a club, soft purple and dim yellow lights adorned the walls, the low ceiling painted black and holding up decorative black plastic chandeliers. Blaine could see the track lights hanging as well but they were unlit, likely only turned on when the bar was closed and the cleaning staff came in. To his left, immediately in front of him was the bar, a trendy glass see through thing with simple black stools running the length of it. Behind the bar were a man and a woman dressed impeccably in all black slacks, shirts and vests. The woman was pouring the man in front of her a beer from the tap, while her co-worker wiped off the counter on the far end of the bar before grabbing a tray of drinks and going out onto the floor. The rest of the bar seemed to stray from the modern and fall into a more classic look with round low tables and chairs filling the center of the bar and round booths with plush red velvet benches lining the walls. Along the back wall was a small stage where a variety of instruments were set up- the upright bass and saxophone case clueing him into the fact that they probably played lounge music or jazz there- although there didn't seem to be anybody performing tonight. Despite the fact that most of the tables were full, with people of all ages (although there seemed to be a majority of people in their late twenties or early thirties), the bar was almost muted, soft conversations being held by all over the low music coming from the speakers. Blaine stood by the entrance, shell shocked by the contrast of his expectations versus the reality of the bar.

When he left his house, decided on finding a new bar Jeremiah be damned, he had hoped to find something close to Barney's jovial and almost homely atmosphere, which yes, got a little too loud and too rowdy at times, but that was what a home would feel like if everybody in it was drunk, no? Blaine had prepared himself to settle for a place which would probably be rowdier than that, he told himself that that was simply how bars were and that he had to deal with it.

He wasn't prepared to find what seemed to be Blaine's dream bar on his first try.

Already he could feel the excitement bubbling up inside of him, that bubbly feeling of warmth a pleasure when things turned out right, when Blaine did something right. The more logical and controlling part of his brain has telling him not to get his hopes up just yet, that for all he knew this night was a fluke and normally this was a skinhead bar or something. Or the beer could be terrible for all he knew.

His brain kept yelling out these possible deal breakers until Blaine decided the best way to shut it up was to sit at the bar and have a drink, so he walked carefully to an empty stool, unbuttoning his jacket and unwinding his scarf from around his neck as he made his way over. Not two seconds after setting his scarf down on the bar did the female bartender make her way over to him.

“Hi handsome, what can I get you tonight?”

Blaine smiled slightly at her enthusiasm and ordered a beer from whatever they had on tap, deciding to forgo his usual Heineken in lieu of trying something new to go with his new bar.

Blaine took her in as she poured the beer expertly, tipping the lightly frosted mug at angle so as to not get too much foam with the practiced grace of somebody who had been doing it for a long time. She didn't seem very old however, certainly not older than Blaine's 24 years, although maybe her youthful appearance was simply due to her almost child-like stature and her small face.

Blaine had the fleeting image of his bartender in a clearing in a forest, with pixie wings and an outfit Blaine was almost sure his brain had stolen from the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream he saw last year.

“Here you are handsome! That'll be 4.50, or would you like to open a tab for the night?” , her bubbly voice snapped him from his reverie.

“I think I'll open a tab, this is likely to be the first of several beers tonight, considering the week I've had”, replied Blaine, handing her his credit card with a slightly self-deprecating smile on his lips.

The bartender laughed, not unkindly, as she swiped his card into the computer cash behind the counter.

“Sorry to hear that, handsome! Well if anything will cure what ails ya, it'll be that beer! It's a small independent local brewery that supplies what we have on tap, you won't find it anywhere else! Try it!”

She nodded encouragingly to him as he took his first sip of the cold beer, and he had to agree that it was nothing short of spectacular; the perfect balance of yeast and bitterness and a hint of zest that made it all the more refreshing.

“What do you think? Good right?”, she asked with excited blue eyes. Blaine thought she was adorable.

“It's delicious,” said Blaine with a genuine smile on his face. “I'll definitely need that tab now.”

The bartender laughed with almost child-like delight and Blaine found himself wondering about her age once again.

“I'll be sure to keep your mug full then!” she said with a final bounce in her step before going off to tend to the other patrons sitting at the bar.

For a while Blaine just sat there, sipping his beer and watching her serve drinks and ring people up, entertained simply by her exuberance and her impressive bartending skills (one of the cocktails she made involved a lot more spinning bottles and fire than Blaine thought necessary) but soon enough he started people watching the other patrons of the bar instead.

As his first cursory glance had shown, most of the people in the bar were Blaine's age, if not a little older, but there was also a middle-aged couple sitting by the curtained window front having cocktails and looking every bit the older-yet-still-very-much-in-love couple Blaine wished to be half of when he was their age. He spent a few more minutes staring at their interactions, the way the man's serious face was brightened by the loving glint in his eyes, and how the woman's lips, perhaps not as full as they had been in her youth, looked lovely as she sent an adoring red-painted smile her man's way.

Blaine sighed wistfully and drowned the dregs of his beer.

True to her word the bartender had taken his empty mug and replaced it with a fresh one in the time it took him to reach for it again. He heard the girl's now almost familiar laugh at his surely astonished expression. He glanced her way and she shot him a wink before continuing her work.

Blaine really liked this bar.

XXXXXXX

About two hours and four beers later, the bar was almost empty and Blaine had a nice buzz going on. The older couple had left about an hour ago and Blaine people watched the rest of the patrons for a short while before striking up a conversation with the now much less busy bartender who Blaine discovered was called Thea.

“It's actually short for Eidothea, in greek mythology-”

“She was the daughter of Proteus, right? A sea nymph?”, Blaine interrupted.

Thea stared at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth for a long moment before she spoke again.

“Marry me.”

Blaine let out a loud laugh that didn't let up as she kept insisting that she was serious and would definitely marry him. Blaine was gasping for breath but he finally managed to choke out a reply between giggles. He was definitely drunk if he was giggling.

“Sorry Thea, but I'm about as gay as they make 'em. Aren't you a bit young to be thinking about marriage anyway?”

“Damn, you would be gay. First hot guy who doesn't need an entire lecture on Greek mythology to even know my name and you're gay. I think I'm heart broken.”

This set Blaine off in another round of giggles, the look on Thea's face a perfect mix of adorable and hilarious. They chatted easily for another half hour, mostly about Thea, and how the 20 year old had managed to get a job in what Blaine found out was one of the city's most prestigious up-and-coming bars.

“I've been around alcohol my entire life! The beer on tap? It's from my father's brewery, actually. I know the ins and outs of beer and when I was sixteen I took a bartending class to learn how to mix cocktails so that I could eventually work in one of my father's bars. As soon as I turned eighteen however I applied to other bars, just so that no one could accuse me of nepotism. Not really great to have people comparing you to your father all the time, you know? Having to live in that shadow?”

Blaine became quiet, a shadow passing over his eyes. Yes, he did know what it was like living in the shadow of your father, of constantly worrying about the shoes you have to fill; the only reason Blaine had gone into law was because his father expected his only son to succeed him in the family firm. He had finished college and had interned at Anderson Law for the summer before law school and those two months were enough to send Blaine running to New York to escape the judging looks and whispers.

“Oh, that sounds a little familiar.”

Thea noticed she had struck a nerve and tactfully changed the topic to how much fun working as a bartender was, and how she loved her job because she got to deal with people as wonderful as Blaine every night.

Blaine left that night with a promise to return and with a 10$ tip left behind.

XXXXXXX

Work was becoming more and more unbearable.

It had to be, otherwise Blaine would feel like perhaps he had a problem, what with his twice-weekly visits to the bar.

The logical part of his brain was telling him that this new habit of going to the bar on Tuesdays and Fridays was not the healthiest, not only for his liver, wallet and productivity, but because the main reason he kept going was because his only friend was the bartender. The fact that he was essentially paying her to listen to him whine about work and his lack of relationship simply could not be healthy, but his Warbler friends were all too far or too busy to bother with his everyday troubles, so who was left? He had met Jeremiah only weeks after moving to New York and when he built his life, he built it around him. All of his friends were actually friends of his ex's and while Blaine had never even been particularly close to any of them, the fact that they had so obviously taken Jeremiah's side in the break-up still hurt.

Blaine was alone. Blaine hated being alone.

And so it was that two months after his discovery of Unmasked he was an established “regular”, often coming in after a late night shift at the office for a beer (or a few beers) and conversations with Thea between mixing cocktails. By then Blaine knew most of the other regulars by name, not that he really interacted with them, but Thea seemed happy to fill him in on his fellow patrons. Thea had a knack for names and faces and had begun slipping Blaine the names of the patrons about three weeks after his first visit, on the two month anniversary of Jeremiah cheating on him.

It took Blaine longer than he cared to admit to realize that she only gave him the name of the eligible male patrons of the bar.

No matter how mopey Blaine got after his fifth beer however, he kept insisting that he wasn't ready to get back on the horse, so to speak, no matter how much he missed the comforting warmth of another body in bed.

“I'm no good at being a boyfriend, Thea. I only annoy my partner and hold them back from having a better relationship, and I'm the most bad- most not good- worst, at romance. No good at romance. Can't you just respect that Thea?”, Blaine plead with his friend, a shimmer of tears in his eyes. Blaine always turned into an emotional drunk after the fourth drink.

“Oh sweetie, that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard, but fine I'll stop introducing you to guys.”

And so when Blaine caught sight of an unfamiliar man sitting at the end of the bar upon entering the place one November evening, Thea remained quiet, although she kept sending Blaine meaningful looks that clearly expressed that he should park his ass on the empty stool next to his.

Blaine would have resisted had the man not been so completely mesmerizing.

From the very first glance, Blaine knew that this man was far, far, far out of his league. He was dressed impeccably in a three piece charcoal suit over a slightly shimmery steel gray shirt, an expensive looking peacoat was draped over the stool to his right, and an unmistakably vintage Alexander McQueen scarf was draped around his long pale neck. His posture was perfect, like that of a ballerina, thought Blaine. He had a dancer's grace even when he was not in motion. His profile was beautiful, sharp features, the perfect blend of feminine and masculine, seemed to glow in the low lighting of the bar.

To Blaine he looked nothing short of gorgeous. Intimidatingly so.

Courage, thought Blaine, thinking back to the motto that had gotten him through high school in Bum Fuck, Ohio. He's just a man at a bar, same as I.

He walked the length of the bar until he was right beside the man.

“Um, excuse me. Is this seat taken?”

Blaine shuffled his feet nervously as the man turned to him, the air leaving his lungs as the man's piercingly blue-green eyes stared him down. Although Blaine was taller standing than the man was sitting down, for a brief moment he felt as though the man was literally looking down his nose at him. The look on his face was not cold though, merely calculating. Blaine felt naked under his gaze.

“No it's not. You may sit”, said the man, his voice soft and slightly high but no less commanding for it.

Blaine was just thinking it didn't sound as though he had much of a choice in the matter when his body sat down on the stool before he even realized it. Blaine had a mildly bewildered look on his face, as though he couldn't understand what his body had just done. For some reason this seemed to amuse the man greatly as he let out a short musical laugh at the sight before muttering something to himself.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?”, Blaine asked, brow furrowed. He didn't exactly like feeling like this gorgeous man was laughing at him.

“Nothing, nothing, just amused at how the world seems to be really blunt with the signs it throws at you, sometimes. Nevermind that though, it's just been a long week, I don't want to bother you with that... What's your name?”

“Um, Blaine, Blaine Anderson. Yours?”

“Kurt Hummel. Pleasure, I'm sure. Now, I think I need a drink. You wouldn't happen to know what's good here, would you?”

Kurt had his body facing mostly to the counter in front of him but the slight tilt of his shoulder and the angle of his head turned towards Blaine looked irresistibly and naturally flirtatious. Blaine struggled to form words around the sudden nervous knot in his throat. He lowered his gaze to the glass bar top, looking at the glasses on the shelves under it to focus on something- anything- other than the man beside him as he spoke.

“Well as it turns out I'm a bit of a regular here, and while the cocktails Thea makes are all excellent, I would have to recommend the beer on tap. It's local, very good. Although, if you don't mind my saying, you don't exactly look like the type of guy to throw back a few beers after a long day's work, so maybe you would prefer a cocktail? Thea makes a mean martini, although I am quite partial to appletinis myself. I know, talk about a stereotype right? But really--”

Blaine was gesticulating wildly in his nervousness, and it was because he was tracking the nervous movements of his hands with his eyes, willing them to stop moving, that he caught sight of Kurt's shaking shoulders and his tightly pressed lips, covered partially by the back of Kurt's long fingers.

Kurt was laughing at him again. Or trying desperately not to, at least.

“I'm sorry, I tend to ramble and make a complete fool of myself in front of guys as unobtainable as you. If I were a woman my theory would be that this is all a Darwinian thing that will save the world from my complete lack of social skills to be passed onto the next generation, but as I am not--”

“Oh, I can see that you are not.”

“--I will simply go back to my apartment and never show my face here again. Shame too, I just found this bar. Oh, there goes my rambling again, gotta go kill myself now. Have a nice life, Kurt! You really should try the beer-”

“Blaine. Stop. Hush up for a second.”

Blaine was flushed a bright red as he froze on his spot, standing beside the chair he had just speedily vacated. He was surprised he hadn't dropped dead from mortification half a dozen sentences ago. He dared to look up at Kurt's face, only to find him looking at Blaine with an expression that seemed to be equal parts amusement, endearment and curiosity.

Once again Blaine found himself feeling naked under Kurt's steady gaze, and vulnerable, as though Kurt could see every little layer of Blaine's, layers that Blaine didn't even know he had. Finally, Kurt put Blaine out of his misery.

“I think I would like to try the beer. Care to keep me company? I'm not very fond of drinking by my lonesome.”

Blaine stammered a bit before nodding. Kurt simply smiled beautifully at him.

“Excellent. Please sit, Blaine.”

This time, Blaine was very aware of his actions as he lowered himself onto the tall bar stool, aware especially of Kurt's eyes on him, as if tracking the movements of a skittish animal.

Blaine certainly felt skittish. He couldn't recall making a bigger fool of himself, let alone having the person he made a fool of himself in front of asking him to stick around. He was about to open his mouth to say something, anything, to break the tension between the two of them when Thea appeared in front of them.

“Hello gentlemen! What can I get you tonight?”

Blaine shot her a look of immense gratitude.

“Um, two beers please Thea, from the tap. On my tab.”

“Actually, miss, I would like to open a tab myself, please put the beers on mine,” Kurt interjected. “I won't take no for an answer, Blaine,” he said as Blaine opened his mouth to protest.

“Two beers on the handsome stranger's tab it is then! Coming right up, sorry Blaine!” Thea said with a parting smile and a bounce in her step.

Someone was feeling a little smug.

Once she had gone off to pour the beers Blaine turned to Kurt, his blushing face on his fist and a nervous smile on his lips.

“You really didn't have to do that, in fact I feel as though buying you a beer is the least I could do to make up for my embarrassing display.”

Kurt simply smiled and looked straight in front of him.

“Nonsense, I thought it was rather adorable. It's not all that often that I have men as handsome as yourself stumbling over their words to talk to me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Blaine replied, looking down at his hands in favour of staring at Kurt's profile. “I bet you have men just lining up for your attentions.”

“Oh, I do. They just aren't all as bashful or as good looking as you,” Kurt said shooting him a wink. “What about you? Your line of desperate men very long these days?”

“Yes, well, unfortunately being averagely good-looking and a bumbling fool is all I have going for me, so my line of pining men is rather short.”

“Easier for me to fight my way to the front then.”

Blaine was struck dumb at Kurt's aggressive advances. He was such a confident flirt that Blaine couldn't have found a way to brush him off even if he wanted to. Then again he couldn't seem to find a response to accept his advances so he was truly indebted to Thea when she reappeared at that moment with their drinks.

“Here we are boys, two beers on the frostiest glasses in the bar. Enjoy!”

She look Blaine a parting look that clearly said “Damn, boy! Get some!”, but Blaine chose to ignore her. He took a sip from his beer to post pone having to talk to Kurt, seeing as how talking to him only seemed to lead to embarrassment. Kurt however didn't seem to share his plight.

“You come very often then? I used to come in more frequently but I have been away for the past few months for work. I don't recall having seen you before, though...”

“No, um, I used to go to Barney's? Two blocks down from here? But I used to go with my boyfriend you see, and well, it would just have been too awkward to go back there and see him with his new man... So I had to look for a new bar. Turned out to be a good thing, I suppose. Breaking up with Jeremiah. He found someone better for him, and I found Unmasked and Thea,” Blaine shot Kurt a small smile. “And I suppose now I have found this man who bought me a beer.”

“I could be more than a man who bought you a beer, you know. I have a hunch that you would enjoy what I have to offer.”

Blaine choked on the the beer he was sipping before letting out a short nervous laugh.

“You're very sure of yourself. You manage to get a lot of men in bed with that kind of talk?”

“Yes. Not all of them I bed though. My abilities aren't simply limited to sex, you know. What I do goes a lot further than that,” Kurt spoke, never taking his eyes off of Blaine's face, taking in every twitch of Blaine's muscles. Taking in his reaction to his words.

“...What you do? What do you do, Kurt?”

Blaine didn't know what to make of Kurt at this point, but he found himself treading more and more carefully, unsure of what lay behind those piercing blue eyes of his.

“I set people free. I take away all of their worries, all of their stress and responsibilities. I take away all of their duties except for their duties to me.”

“Their duties to you?”

“The duties a sub has to their Dom.”

Time stood still. Blaine's breath caught in his throat and although a spike of interested arousal shot down his spine, a greater part of Blaine was still in shock.

“A-- A Dom? Yo-you're a Dom?”

“Yes, Blaine. I'm a Dom. Do I not look like one? That seems to be the general opinion,” Kurt said, eyes slightly hard.

Blaine took him in once more. The perfectly straight back, the carefully styled hair and pressed clothes, the aura of a man completely in control of himself. Yes, Blaine had thought a Dom would generally look different, wear dark eye-make up and glossy latex corsets and leather, but there was no denying that something about Kurt screamed 'I can and will take control. I can and will have you submit to me.'

“No, you do. I believe you.”

Kurt smiled a small, pleased smile that did things to Blaine.

Things that Blaine was definitely not ready to admit to, or even admit to wanting.

“I don't know why you would think that that's something I would want. I-I mean, no offense to you or anything, like, I don't judge you for what you do in your spare time or anything-”

“It's not just something I do in my spare time, Blaine. I do this for a living. I'm a Dom.”

“Y-yes, I heard you the first time. But again, I don't know why you think that I woul-”

“You think I look like a Dom right? Well, I think you look like a sub. I think you might not realize it, in fact I'm pretty sure you don't realize it, but you are what I like to call a natural sub. I can see in you, plain as day, the need to please others. I can bet you anything that you were always looking out for your friends and family, doing anything and everything for them, because you are a nice guy, yeah, but also because you like pleasing others. You probably found a job that will let you do that, knowing your type I'd say a lawyer, because being a doctor would mean that failure leads to death and you are too kind, too good to be able to deal with death like that. Yes, definitely a lawyer. But I don't think you're quite there yet are you? Right now you're at the mercy of the higher-ups. The office grunt. And it's driving you crazy, isn't it? They are running you ragged. I can see that. I can see you grasping at the straws, trying to stay on top of things, trying to please everyone still. And I can tell you right now, because I see this all the time, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to let go. And I can help you do that Blaine. I can help you give up control, I can give you someone to focus your natural needs on so that you can manage the rest better. That's, what I do, Blaine.”

Blaine simply sat there, eyes wide as saucers, a deer caught in headlights.

Kurt's gaze softened.

“That's ok, Blaine. There's nothing to be scared of, or ashamed of. This is what I do, I have to be able to understand people, to see inside of them. That's what makes me so good at what I do. I see what people need and I give it to them. And I would very much like to give you what you need, Blaine Anderson.”

“I- I- I don't- I've never- I don't do this sort of thing, I've no idea-”

“I can teach you. I would love to teach you, Blaine. In fact, nothing would please me more than to help you unlock that part of yourself. Would you like me to, Blaine? There's an entire world for you to discover, an entire sea that I can help you navigate.”

Blaine was just openly staring at Kurt, who was staring right back. His eyes were burning right to the core of Blaine. He could feel himself trembling although he couldn't say why. He felt his lips moving, and the words forming in his throat, coming out weak and soft and so much more vulnerable than he would have liked.

“I don't know you, Kurt. How can I trust you not to let me drown?”

“That's the point of this Blaine: trust. Trust and control. What do you think? Is that something you would like?”

Kurt kept his gaze steadfast on Blaine's wide hazel eyes. Blaine could see that this was something that Kurt wanted, and the part of Blaine that he just called him on, the part that wanted to please was quivering in excitement. He so wanted to do this. He wanted it so much. Too much.

“I-I can't, Kurt. I can't. I'm sorry, I just- I don't know you, I don't know this, I don't know anything, and- I don't think I'm ready to. If I'll ever be ready to, no matter what your hunch is telling you. I'm sorry. I'm gonna go now, it was- nice, meeting you Kurt. Thanks for the drink. I'm gonna go.”

Blaine grabbed his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck, quickly but not in the same fervent rush he was in the last time he was trying to flee from Kurt.

Maybe it was because Blaine knew he wasn't fleeing from Kurt but from himself. He turned towards the door when Kurt spoke up.

“Blaine, I get that you might not be ready for this right now. That's fine. But I for one think that one day soon you will be. You will need this. And I want you to know I am here for you. Take my card, Blaine, and call me when you are ready to face this and know that I'll be waiting.”

Blaine took the card from Kurt's outstretched hand with trembling fingers. He twirled it in his hand, eyes locked onto it.

“You know, I hear this isn't quite how picking up guys at bars usually goes.”

Blaine chanced a glance at Kurt, who was smiling gently at him.

“I hear I'm not a very usual guy.”

XXXXXXX

Blaine spent the weekend staring at the card.

Not like he just sat there looking at it, he had only done that for about an hour after he had gotten home from Unmasked. But when he went to get coffee the next morning, he looked at it while he waited in line. He stared at it once he got to his seat by the window, computer open on the table in front of him. He looked at it as he waited for the delivery guy to bring him his pizza at lunch. He stared at it during the commercial breaks in the Extreme Couponing marathon on TLC and while he waited for the microwave to re-heat his pizza slices for dinner.

Ha stared at it at night, before going to sleep.

By Sunday, the card was bent and covered in greasy, tomato sauce fingerprints, and the corners were bent like his most beloved ratty paperbacks, and although Blaine knew every character printed on the small business card like he knew he name, he kept staring at it.

It was a very nice card, Blaine thought to himself in the few moments he could logically and abjectly think about the card and not what it meant. On the front, right in the center, it said Kurt Hummel, under which it said Professional Dominant, black print on white. On the back was his phone number, white on black. The paper was heavy and smooth and matte. High quality print.

Blaine lay in bed staring at the card for longer than he usually lingered in bed in the mornings. He was reprimanding himself for his laziness, he knew that he had briefs to go over for work the next day and he had to run errands and go grocery shopping, but it was as though staring at that damned card for the past two days had completely exhausted Blaine. He didn't know how he'd face the week with Kurt's words hanging over him.

Kurt's words. His all too accurate description of Blaine.

Blaine had never held any delusions of being particularly mysterious, in fact nearly everybody in his life made a habit of commenting on how much of an open book he was, but he had never been so completely pegged by a complete stranger before. Kurt had correctly guessed everything about him except for maybe his favourite color and ice cream flavour and his perspicacity scared Blaine.

After all, if he could see everything that he was, surely he could see all the ways Blaine came up short. He could see how to hurt him to the core, how to break him completely.

Blaine couldn't imagine ever letting Kurt in, ever giving him that power. He just couldn't trust him enough, couldn't give up control like that.

That's the point of this Blaine: trust. Trust and control.

Kurt's words rang out in his mind, the same way they had been ringing out since he had first spoken at Unmasked. Blaine chastised himself for becoming so obsessed with the idea. After all he wasn't a su-

Blaine interrupted his own thoughts, unwilling to even entertain the notion of Kurt being right about that particular part of his evaluation of Blaine. He had never even let Jeremiah spank him or-or tie him up! He enjoyed simple sex, straight-forward, two men in a bed, or a shower or a table or even a wall, but why bring in equipment, or gags, or paddles or those pretty leather cuffs he had seen online that one tim-

No.

Blaine closed his eyes tightly and breathed deep through his nose. He might have looked up some things when he was still a curious teenager, but he knew better now. He thought of his father's words, his stern voice telling him that being gay was abnormal enough, no need to go and add deviancy to it, words spoken after Blaine had let it slip at dinner one night that a friend had joked about spanking Blaine if he misbehaved during Warbler rehearsal again.

It had been platonic and innocent riling, but his father had been quick to set him straight and dispel any such ideas from even forming in Blaine's brain.

That's why Kurt was wrong. Blaine wasn't a natural...that. Blaine had never allowed himself to ever explore that tiny seed of curiosity he had harboured as a young and foolish boy, so surely by now that seed had grown rank and died away. There was no point in getting involved with Kurt, even though Blaine told himself that surely by now he didn't let his father dictate what he could and could not do with his private life.

That thought caused Blaine to open his eyes.

Was he still letting his father dictate how Blaine lived his life? He had moved across the entire country to be his own man, free from his father's shadow. Did he still have a hold on him?

Jesus, would his entire life gravitate around his Daddy issues?

Blaine sat up from his bed and reached for the phone that was charging on his night stand. No, Blaine Anderson was going to do whatever he damned well pleased. Even if he wasn't sure that this was something he would like, Blaine thought he owed it to his inner teenager to try it. Following impulses, and rebelling against authority and fuck parents and all that jazz.

When he dialed Kurt he allowed himself the weakness to pretend to need to look at the card for the phone number.