Chapter Text

Blaine looked around the loud, crowded pub, trying to find Kurt. Sighing, it was hard to spot him amongst all the other men, so many wearing caps and hats. Blaine was just about to start walking around the whole bar to take a closer look at each table when he felt a tingle of awareness. Looking to his right, he saw Kurt’s blue-grey gaze on him, a slight smirk on his lips.

Returning his look with a slightly embarrassed one of his own, Blaine made his way through the crowd to Kurt’s table. Kurt smiled as he moved his coat off the chair he’d saved for him, tucking the coat on the back of his own chair. As always when he saw Kurt, he felt the surge of feelings and really, really wanted to kiss him hello. But this definitely would be the worst place for it. He settled for pulling his chair close to the table, just happening to rest his leg against Kurt’s.

“Blaine, this is Oliver and Marguerite. I toured with them for about a year before I went over to England.” Kurt introduced the older couple, with a fond look.

Shaking their hands, Blaine settled down to listen to their conversation. Every week, it seemed like Kurt had old friends coming through the city, and often Blaine joined the group over drinks or a meal. The conversation was always lively and he liked hearing more about Kurt’s past.

“I can’t believe you are still doing that old doctor skit.” Kurt chuckled, taking a long sip of his beer.

Oliver shrugged. “It still gets good laughs. And it’s easier to vary it depending on whoever the patient is. Nobody does a German character as well as your Ludwig, though.” He was likely in his late thirties, with thinning dark blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

“Ludwig!” Blaine laughed, nudging Kurt’s shoulder. “You were doing the Ludwig character back that far?”

Kurt glanced over at Blaine and then back at Oliver. “I’ve been doing that character for years.”

Marguerite leaned forward towards Blaine. “Hmmmm… let’s see how well you know Kurt. Have you seen his Marcel? Ivan? Archie? Gino?” She was a very vivacious woman with her dark hair pinned up into a bun, a few years older than Kurt.

Looking over at Kurt, Blaine shared a knowing glance with him. “Yeah, I’ve seen him do all those characters. Plus the Irish guy… And Nikita.”

“Nikita?” Oliver arched an eyebrow at Kurt.

Kurt just laughed in delight. “I really didn’t start doing female impersonations until I went to England. At first, it was in a comedic way, with badly applied makeup and ill-fitting clothes. By the time I was in Paris, I was a siren.” Lifting a shoulder, Kurt gave his old friends a coquette-ish look, big flirty eyes with fluttering eyelashes.

Marguerite laughed as she looked at Kurt assessingly. “I can totally picture you looking quite good with the right hair and make-up.”

“Oh honey, I looked fantastic. I still cry a little when I think of that trunk of gorgeous clothes that sunk with that damn ship.” Kurt grinned back.

Blaine rubbed a hand on Kurt’s leg near his knee discretely under the table. It was still felt a little too soon to joke about the tragedy. Still seemed a little incredible every time he saw Kurt again, after thinking he hadn’t survived it for so many months.

“I heard of a play they are casting you should try out for. Apparently it's a bit of a dark comedy with one man killing his family members, one by one, who lie between him and a Dukedom.” Oliver took off his eyeglasses and polished them with his handkerchief.

Kurt gave his old friend a laughing glance. “And you want me to play the killer? What does that say about me that you think I’d be good for that part?”

Oliver put his glasses back on. “No, one of the best things about the production is that they are looking for one person to play all the victim roles. There’s a banker, a parson, a general, a young man, the old duke and even an old woman, from what I can recall.”

Clapping her hands in delight, Marguerite leaned closer to pat Kurt’s arm. “I’ve seen you do characters like that, Kurt. You should try out for it.”

Kurt shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I’m still getting used to living in New York, getting my connections with the various Vaudeville theatres set up. I really haven’t looked at going to auditions for plays or musicals.”

Oliver nodded. “Marguerite and I can help you out. We’ve been in the business long enough to introduce you to a few people. But we really should act fast. This role would really be perfect for you.”

Sipping on his beer, Kurt just gave a small nod and the conversation flowed onto different topics.

---

“Are you going to try out for that role Oliver mentioned?” Blaine asked as they walked along the dark city streets a few hours later.

It took Kurt a minute to recall the topic. “Oh that. I don’t think so. I think of myself as more of a singer than an actor. I’ve really only done short skits here and there.”

Blaine was a bit surprised at his response. “Kurt, you are a fantastic singer. But I’ve seen you slip into characters and keep them up for hours at a time. Weren’t you basically playing Marcel the whole time you worked on the Titanic? Everyone there thought you were French!”

Sighing, Kurt pulled open the door to his apartment building and checked his mail. He started up the stairs, with Blaine walking right behind him. “I suppose so. But I don’t know much about auditioning for plays or any of that. I’ve never really considered going for a role.”

“Well, it could be an interesting experience. And if you get the part, you would have steady work for a while. I think most plays have months of rehearsals, and then run for a few months as long as there are good ticket sales.” Blaine had gone to lots of plays over the years, but hadn’t really considered things from the actor’s point of view.

Walking down the hallway, Kurt pulled out his key and unlocked his door. He flicked on the light as he entered, slipping off his coat to hang it on the coat rack before he went into the tiny kitchen to put the kettle on. One habit he had picked up from being with Paul a few years was his love of tea. By the time the tea was steeped, he had a tray ready with the milk and sugar, and some shortbread biscuits.

Blaine was reading a magazine on the sofa, his coat also hung on the coat rack and his suit jacket draped over the back of a chair. He looked good in just his white dress shirt, with the top few buttons undone and his tie loosened.

Putting the tray down on the coffee table, Kurt sank down beside Blaine on the sofa and poured out the tea, quickly stirring in just a dash of milk before he passed the cup to Blaine. His own cup got a spoonful of sugar along with the milk. He settled back, cupping the warm drink with both hands.

“Well, I like the idea of steady work.” Kurt commented, picking up the conversation from where it had ended a few minutes ago.

Blaine nodded in perfect understanding as he sipped his tea. Kurt liked that they had reached this level of everyday comfort with each other, spending so much time together the past few weeks. He liked that Blaine just made himself comfortable in Kurt’s apartment, and knew it was OK to kick off his shoes and just be himself. Behind closed doors, they had the freedom to act like a true couple.

Leaning closer, Kurt gave Blaine a kiss, tasting the unsweetened tea on his lips. He was tempted to go further, but that could wait a little while. They could have tea and talk first. But he still liked the flicker of arousal in Blaine’s gaze when Kurt pulled back from the kiss.

Blaine looked around the apartment. “I know you are doing OK for money, Kurt, but my offer for a loan is always there if you need it.”

Kurt gave a little smirk before he hid it by taking another sip of his tea. Blaine knew better than to offer to pay for Kurt’s bills again. They had had a few arguments about it when they had first arrived in New York; spectacular fights with passionate make-up sex afterwards. Kurt had too much pride to allow Blaine to pay for things. Plus, Kurt had lived on his own for enough years to learn how to make his money go far, and to haggle for the rest.

“I like the idea of having a steady job, so I don’t have to run around the city picking up short term jobs. It would be nice to just do a good days’ work, and then relax at home with a good book.” Kurt sighed, kicking off his shoes and tucking his feet up on the sofa to his side.

Blaine set his empty cup down on the tray, and urged Kurt to move his feet into his lap. Pulling off his socks, Blaine massaged Kurt’s feet with his strong fingers. Kurt shifted to lie back on the sofa, a pillow beneath his head, and savored the feel of Blaine’s touch.

When Blaine stopped and pulled his hands away, Kurt glared playfully at him. “Why did you stop?”

Chuckling, Blaine undid his tie and tossed it to the chair that held his suit jacket. “You had sore feet, so I rubbed them. I’m done now.”

“But that’s not all that’s sore.” Kurt nudged Blaine’s thigh with one of his bare feet.

“Oh really? What else is sore, my dear?” Blaine joked back, scanning over Kurt’s body slowly.

Kurt scrunched his lips together for a minute. “My legs. I walked all over the place today.”

Blaine nodded, and reached over to undo Kurt’s pants. Kurt helped him by lifting his hips off the sofa as Blaine pulled the trousers down and tossed them over to the chair. Kurt bent one knee to let one foot rest on the floor, the other still in Blaine’s lap.

Working up from his ankle, Blaine took his time, kneading and stroking, working his way up Kurt’s calf. He scooted closer to properly reach Kurt’s thighs, following the long muscles with the firm press of his hands. Kurt closed his eyes, enjoying the slow, thorough touch of his lover.

It reminded Kurt of those wonderful long days at Blaine’s family cabin. They had indulged themselves in every way. Sleeping in every morning, followed by long sessions of lazy morning sex. Only getting out of bed when they were too hungry to stay under the covers anymore. Cooking together while they sang at the top of their lungs, knowing there was nobody around for miles to hear them. Going for long hikes in the woods or exploring the lake in the canoe, before returning to the cabin. Drinking red wine in front of the fireplace while they cuddled and read books. Talking about everything and nothing.

It was truly their honeymoon. Over a week of just having fun together, falling deeper and deeper in love. Hours of exploring each other’s bodies, touching and tasting. Teasing. Finally having the freedom to indulge themselves that way as well.

Blaine knew how much Kurt was responding to his touch, but still kept up with his slow massage until both legs were done. “What is sore now? Your shoulders and your back?”

Nodding, Kurt sat up and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, liking the hungry way Blaine watched as his skin was revealed. Really wanting to crawl over him to kiss him senseless, but knowing it would be even better, hotter, the longer they waited.

In just his boxers, Kurt rolled over onto his stomach, shifting so his hard cock was pressed against the cushions. Blaine wasted no time straddling his thighs, and Kurt sighed as his hands worked along his neck and into his shoulders. He could feel the tight muscles loosening, not even realizing how tense he had been. As Blaine stroked over his back, his motions sometimes caused his hips to press against Kurt’s ass, a quick touch that had Kurt arching up for more.

Finally, Blaine hand slid to the waistband of his boxers, and Kurt arched upwards, lifting his hips of the sofa. Blaine shifted off Kurt’s legs as he pulled the last article of clothing off, running an appreciative hand over his ass. Getting up, Blaine quickly stripped, and took the vial of oil from the coffee table drawer. Kurt spread his legs for Blaine’s touch, arching up to the feel of his slick fingers, wanting him so much.

Blaine urged him up onto his knees as he got into position behind him, and Kurt still had his face pressed against the pillow, muffling his moans as Blaine filled him so well. The apartment walls were thin, and Kurt didn’t want knowing glances from his neighbors, or worse, later on. They found a good rhythm, rocking together as Kurt pushed into his own slick fist. It wasn’t going to last long. Kurt scrambled to grab his boxers from the floor, cupping the fabric against himself as Blaine’s last few strokes sent him over the edge. Dropping onto the sofa, panting, Blaine followed him down for a few more thrusts before he bit into Kurt’s back with his release.

After a few minutes, Blaine got up and came back with a warm, wet washcloth, cleaning Kurt up. “Anything else sore that you need rubbed?” He smirked, as he ran the cloth over Kurt’s sated cock.

Kurt gave a little smile, knowing it wouldn’t take long with Blaine touching him like that to get hard again. Being young, they went for a second or even a third session some nights. But he put a hand over Blaine’s to move it away, and then pulled him closer for a kiss. Tonight, it was more about being intimate by being naked together and touching, than about sex.

Rolling Blaine over onto his back, Kurt laid over him on the sofa, and pulled a blanket up to cover them. Looking down at Blaine, Kurt could see he looked a little tired and wondered if it was being busy at the hotel or if the Titanic dreams were still waking him up. Brushing his short curls back off his face, Kurt kissed him slowly, feeling the slight scratch from his five o’clock shadow rasping over his skin.

“I better be getting back soon.” Blaine sighed, tracing little patterns over the small of Kurt’s back with his fingers.

Kurt let out a little complaining whine. “It’s not that late yet.” This was the hardest part, spending the nights apart and waking up alone.

Blaine gave him a firm kiss, and shifted to sit up with a regretful expression. “I’ve got a pretty full day tomorrow. Are you still coming over around five?”

Nodding as he got up, Kurt pulled on his shirt but didn’t bother doing up the buttons. He watched as Blaine dressed, going back to being the hotelier in a fine suit.

At the door, Blaine turned to take his hand, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, Blaine.” Kurt said softly, stepping closer to hug him tight. “I love you too.” He whispered in his ear, inhaling the light scent of his cologne and his skin. Letting go reluctantly, and hiding behind the door as Blaine slipped out.

---

“Guess who dined at the restaurant last week.” Jeff asked with a definite spark of humor in his eyes.

Trimming away a bit of fat from his steak, Blaine took a bite, thinking. “Molly Brown,” he guessed, really having no idea. He hadn’t lived in New York long enough to know the most important society people yet.

Shaking his head, Jeff pushed the blond hair out of his eyes with an impatient hand. “Sylvia and Matthew Wilks.” He looked between Kurt and Blaine, and was clearly not impressed by their lack of reaction.

Kurt finished his meal, draping his cloth napkin over his plate. “That name sounds vaguely familiar. Please remember that I’ve been in Europe for a few years, so I’m a little out of the gossip loop.”

Nick leaned forward, giving them both a wide, easy smile. “Sylvia is the daughter of Hettie Green. Surely you’ve heard of her.”

Getting up, Blaine carried their empty plates over to the trolley, and then pushed it into the hallway for the servers to take away later. “Isn’t she the ‘Witch of Wall Street’? Although I never really knew her full story. Was she called that because she was so good with money or because she is so odd?”

“Well, she’s known to wear one old black dress all the time, so that’s a big part of it, but it’s probably due to her success financially.” Jeff supplied, pouring them coffee.

Kurt added cream and sugar to his. “Isn’t she kind of infamous for being a miser even though she’s so rich? Is her daughter like that too?”

Shaking his head, Nick shared a glance with Jeff. “Yes, Hettie is said to only eat 15 cent meat pies and keeps moving around to avoid taxes, apparently, because she’s so cheap. But Sylvia seemed disappointingly normal. She was dressed like any other young woman and ate a regular meal.”

As the conversation carried on, Kurt sat back with his coffee, watching the interaction between Blaine and his old friends. It wasn’t the first time he had been around Jeff and Nick, but it was still interesting to see how they acted around each other. They were a little more relaxed behind closed doors like this, dining in Blaine’s parlor. There was an ease between them, like an old married couple at times, finishing each other’s sentences and prompting each other in conversation. There were little touches and glances, the blink-and-you-missed-it type, but Kurt was watching closely. Curiosity about their relationship bubbled inside him. Would Blaine be able to tell him much about them if he asked him later?

Suddenly, Kurt became aware that they were all looking his way. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was deep in my own thoughts. Did you ask me something?”

Blaine gave him a warm look, covering his hand with his own and giving it a squeeze.

Jeff chuckled. “Obviously nothing that you were that interested in. Which makes me wonder what you were thinking about.” His eyes were a warm brown, a surprising contrast to his fair skin and pale blond hair.

Squirming a little in his chair, Kurt considered if he should give another topic entirely or if there was a diplomatic way to ask what he had been wondering. This subject was so rarely talked about openly, he hardly had the words for it.

Deciding to go for it, Kurt looked between Jeff and Nick. “Excuse me if you think this is too… forward for me to ask, but you two have been a couple since your prep school days?”

Blaine looked a little shocked at Kurt’s question, but Nick chuckled and patted his arm to calm him down. “It’s OK, Blaine.” He looked over at Kurt, tilting his head a little as he looked Kurt over. “I don’t mind talking about it, as I sense it’s not just idle curiosity on your part. Am I right?”

Swallowing, Kurt nodded slowly and put his hand over Blaine’s and left it there. It was like shouting from the rooftops that they were involved with each other. They had never really acknowledged what they had to anyone else so directly like that before.

Jeff and Nick shared a knowing glance, and then smiled over at Blaine, who was blushing a little. Kurt watched, and realized that it kind of confirmed that these men had never been any of the boys Blaine had experimented with in that old school chapel. Maybe Jeff and Nick were already a couple by then.

“We met when we were first in prep school at twelve, and we were instantly best friends. Later, when everyone else started talking about girls, we didn’t. And then Jeff totally shocked me by kissing me one day.” Nick said softly, his green eyes frequently being pulled back to Jeff’s as he spoke. “We were almost fourteen by then, weren’t we?”

Jeff nodded. “And that was just it for me. I just knew.” He shared a long look with Nick, before looking over at Blaine and then Kurt. Not ashamed or hiding anything.

Kurt’s eyebrows rose. “So, you’ve never even kissed anyone else in all these years? Haven’t even been tempted?” In ten years? As young men?

Blaine gave a little cough, looking at Kurt with wide eyes. Clearly, Kurt was pressing against the edges of his comfort zone.

Nick gave a little grin. “Yeah, it’s just been the two of us. Our rule is that it’s OK to look, but not touch. There are a few places where you can certainly see a lot. But you guys live here. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

Sharing a puzzled look with Blaine, Kurt turned back to Nick and shrugged. “I guess we haven’t been around New York long enough. What are you talking about?”

Jeff poured out some brandy for himself, swirling the amber liquid in the globelike glass. “Bathhouses.”

Blaine and Kurt shared a glance and burst out laughing. At the other men’s questioning look, Blaine gathered himself to explain about their experience of the Turkish Bath on the Titanic.

Chuckling, Nick tapped a finger on his chin. “Hmmmm… and you said your father showed up there? I wonder….”

Jeff nudged his shoulder, laughing. “I don’t know how it was on the Titanic, but most bathhouses are places were men like us can find each other.”

His eyes were very wide when Blaine looked between his two friends. He was certainly learning a thing or two from them tonight. “And you two go there to….” He waved his hand, not wanting to be too explicit.

“Like I said before, we just look, and don’t touch anyone but each other. But you can imagine looking at all those men, often naked or in just a little towel, all sweaty from the steam room...Shall we just say it keeps things interesting between us." Nick explained in a hushed voice.

Jeff and Nick shared a glance, and a bit of a wicked smile, before schooling their expressions back to normal. But it was enough to leave Kurt feeling intrigued.

"And how do you manage the day-to-day stuff, and still stay a couple? So often having to hide your feelings?" Kurt asked, really wanting to know. Long term gay couples were such a rare thing.

Grabbing the brandy decanter, Jeff refilled his glass and poured out three more. "Come on, let's go sit over on the sofas and get comfortable. This could take a while."

-----

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: So much for my plan of a 2-3 chapter alternative ending! This is obviously going to take a few more chapters. Haha

-The play Kurt's friend mentioned is a fabrication but based on a real book, 'Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal' (1907) by Roy Horniman. It was loosely adapted into a 1949 British dark comedy, 'Kind Hearts and Coronets', with Alec Guinness playing the eight victims fantastically.

-Hettie Green: She was a Quaker from a rich whaling family. Her younger brother died at a young age, and she spent a lot of time with her father and grandfather, reading financial newspapers by the age of six and becoming the family bookkeeper by the age of 13. By the time she was 30, she had inherited a fortune equivalent to $80 million in today's dollars. She married with a prenuptial agreement, and had two children. Wise investments over her lifetime led to her estate being worth $4 billion in today's dollars by the time she died in 1916, the richest woman in the world. But she was widely known for her miserly ways, like never using heat or hot water, wearing the same dress and undergarments until they wore out, telling her laundress to only wash the hem of her dress to save on soap. When her son broke his leg as a child, she tried to get him care at a free clinic, but stormed out when she was recognized and took him to other doctors. The leg never healed properly and eventually had to be amputated. In her old age, she developed a bad hernia, but refused to have an operation because it cost $150. She died at the age of 81 due to a stroke, apparently arguing with a maid over the virtues of skimmed milk.