Chapter Twelve

Kurt’s stomach starts to growl again and they end up laughing through their kisses and it feels amazing. They find their shoes and Blaine takes Kurt to his favorite bagel place. They talk about London a little, though neither of them really wants to. They drink more coffee and talk and stare at each other in a way, Blaine remarks, that is probably making the people around them feel a little queasy.

Kurt punches him playfully in the shoulder and then takes Blaine back to his place.

~~*~~

Blaine holds his hand on the subway ride over, and then he kisses him in the elevator, hands daring to slip down his back and over his ass. They are entirely captivated by each other, intent on getting naked, all the way hard, and as close and as messy as possible. Blaine can’t keep his hands off him and Kurt struggles to get his key in the door. Then the door gives way and they stumble inside, Kurt trying to grab at Blaine as he brushes past him, committed to dragging him in for a proper, endless kiss.

Within seconds Blaine is dropping to his knees with wide, excited eyes, except he’s not looking at Kurt at all. There‘s the sound of dog paws on the hardwood and Max comes skidding around the corner.

At first it’s adorable, the way Blaine picks up the dog and lets him lick his face and then promptly finds them a sofa to sit down and cuddle. Kurt stands in the doorway and watches, fondly at first, as Blaine coos and kisses and pets.

“What is he?” Blaine asks, sounding far too in awe.

“He’s a dog,” Kurt deadpans.

Blaine rolls his eyes at Max. “What breed, Kurt?”

“A puggle,” Kurt says, moving closer, watching and trying to fight the grin off his face. “A pug beagle mix.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine all but squeals. “That is so cute!” He throws a look over his shoulder and Kurt nods.

Max isn’t even, technically, allowed on the couch.

“You’re so cute!” Blaine exclaims, and he Eskimo kisses a frantic Max in his lap.

Kurt lets this go on for as long as he can stand, slowly shifting from finding it adorable to fondly being amused to being rather jealous of his little dog.

It takes Kurt’s Henley being thrown across the room and landing draped over Max’s head, to make Blaine look up towards where Kurt’s still leaning against the door frame. With wide, brown eyes, flicking from shocked to amused to turned on, Blaine very quickly dumps Max unceremoniously on the floor.

“You’re cute, too,” he admits, chasing Kurt down the hall.

He pushes him up against a wall and kisses him hard, shutting Max out of the bedroom with an apologetic look.

~~*~~

Kurt doesn’t make it to his boutique store that day, and Blaine forgets entirely about the depositions. They spend more time talking and tracing inane patterns across each other’s skin than they do actually having sex. They both lose track of how many orgasms they’ve shared and why it even matters before night falls. Hours of it, hours of each other. Bodies clinging and tangled in Kurt’s bed until they’re too sore and hungry again, eating Chinese food straight from the container, mostly naked, and still in Kurt’s bed.

~~*~~

That Sunday, Kurt finally takes Blaine to one of his stores. He kisses him on the cheek and directs him to the plush sofas spread between the expansive dressing rooms at the back. “This shouldn’t take too long,” Kurt promises and lingers with his lips close to Blaine’s jaw. When he finally pulls away it is only to blink once and then duck back in and press another kiss to his mouth.

After that, Blaine watches him work without interfering. He sits on the sofa and lets his eyes appreciate the off-whites and greys of the store walls, the abstract paintings scattered between the racks, splashes of bright blues and reds and oranges that compliment and offset the color of the clothes. Then there are the clothes themselves, the centerpiece of the store, dark suits and dresses slowly transitioning into brighter, lighter things. Suits in colors hardly anyone would dare to wear with embroidered patterns and unusual collars.

Eventually, he can’t resist and, smiling at Kurt, Blaine stands and wanders, letting his fingers runs over the fabrics as he marvels at the things Kurt makes.

“Do you ever wear your own suits?” Blaine asks when they walk out, into the New York street.

Kurt looks at him, an eyebrow arched. “Not terribly often,” he admits. “I don’t usually have good enough reasons to.”

Neither one of them would dare say it, but there are fantasies of weddings being written in both their heads.

~~*~~

Blaine goes home Sunday afternoon. He gets caught up for a full ten minutes at the threshold of Kurt’s apartment, holding his face in his hands and kissing him over and over, trying to convince himself that one last quick moment, naked and together, isn’t unreasonable at all.

Finally, Kurt pushes him out and closes the door. Blaine goes home and reads the depositions, then the papers, and then all of it again, taking notes. It slips past midnight and into Monday and his eyelids feel heavy and his muscles feel too tight. He changes and slips into his still unmade bed. He can smell Kurt and can’t for the life of him get to sleep. 

He debates sending a text for a few minutes, then does it anyway.

Blaine to Kurt

I can’t sleep without you next to me.

He is sitting at the kitchen counter taking his second mouthful of a beer when his phone vibrates.

Kurt to Blaine

Then come over.

Blaine catches a cab through midtown and is buzzing himself into Kurt’s apartment building within half an hour. When Kurt opens the door he’s in sweatpants only, his hair is mussed and he has a cup of tea in his hand. “Come in,” is all he says.

Max barks like he already recognizes Blaine.

~~*~~

There are more boxes packed up everywhere than there were the day before and Kurt’s laptop is open with so many unanswered emails, Blaine wonders if he’s imposing. But Kurt assures him he isn’t and says he couldn’t sleep either.

That’s the first night they slip into bed too tired to do anything more than share one quick kiss and then fall asleep.

Blaine makes up for it though, waking Kurt up with his mouth around Kurt’s cock, sucking and licking until Kurt groans and arches and Blaine knows he’s awake. Kurt twists in the sheets and mumbles ‘Good morning,’ nudging Max off the side of the bed with his leg. Blaine gets him off as slow as he dares, committing to memory every moan Kurt makes, every vein under his tongue, and hoping he’ll never forget any of it. 

When Kurt comes he’s loud, arching off the bed and twisting Blaine’s hair in a way that makes Blaine swear he’ll never wear gel again. He swallows him down and then climbs up Kurt’s body and kisses him until he’s capable of thinking again. Then Kurt flips him over and gets him off with a few rough strokes of his hand, never once stopping kissing him.

To say thank you, Kurt makes Blaine one of the few things he can cook well, French toast, not minding so much when Blaine sits on the floor with his back against a cupboard and plays with Max as Kurt cooks.

After that, Blaine goes home and into work for a few hours because he has to, moping around the office and waiting for his lunch break and the chance to go home, get changed, and then find Kurt again. Except, Kurt surprises him in one of the main foyers, grinning from ear to ear and looking perfect in cream colored pants and a light blazer. Kurt laughs at him when he runs over and kisses him without really thinking, the eyes of several people who know Blaine tracking him with interest, and the eyes of everybody else just vaguely amused by the young lawyer and his stunningly beautiful boyfriend embracing outside the law courts.

All of it already feels instinctive.

When they manage to let each other gor12;propriety demanding Blaine do it, hunger for lunch convincing Kurtr12;Kurt holds Blaine by the shoulders and looks him up and down. Kurt then makes him spin in his nothing-grey work suit and tells him it looks good on him, even though he can think of a dozen cuts and colors that would look better.

Blaine just pulls a face.

They get smoked chicken baguettes and eat outside, holding hands and still watching each other. Afterwards, as they walk across Columbus Park, Kurt leans in close to whisper something scandalous in Blaine’s ear.  “And what kind of outrageous underwear are you wearing, today?”

Blaine blushes so hard Kurt giggles, and then Blaine refuses to answer him. So, Kurt flirts too much and twhisks him across town to his other store and bundles Blaine up in one of the dressing rooms at the back. He tickles his sides and kisses behind his ear and slides his hands quickly under the waistband of Blaine’s suit-pants, shoving them down to get a look.

“Seriously?” Kurt exclaims, and then he’s giggling again, undoing Blaine’s pants properly and letting them fall to Blaine’s ankles. He giggles some more, and Blaine blushes, and then Kurt is tugging on the waistband and letting it snap back against Blaine’s skin. “Oh my god, what are you?”

Blaine spends the taxi ride home defending the pink love hearts design.

~~*~~

On Tuesday it really begins to sink in: This is it. This is the last twenty four hours together. Blaine stays at Kurt’s even though it means he has to get up at 5am to make it downtown to work at a reasonable time. He means to slip quietly from Kurt’s arms and kiss him on the cheek without waking him, but Kurt stirs as soon as he moves. He won’t let Blaine leave the bed without kissing him properly, and then he follows him into the shower. They spend half an hour going over four days of bruises and bite marks and scratches. 

“I don’t remember giving you this.”

Followed by, “I do,” and another owning kiss. They get off in each other’s hands and Blaine races to work.

~~*~~

That night, there is dinner and dancing and an alcohol induced nap before they wake up and realize it’s the last night. They don’t feel anywhere near as sad as they think perhaps they should.

“I’ll miss you,” Blaine tells him.

Kurt nods and slides his pants off his legs, already yawning again. “You too.”

Blaine sighs. “I think we’re going to be just fine,” he admits, And he thinks maybe that’s why it doesn’t seem to hurt so much.

“Yeah,” Kurt mumbles, growing impatient and moving to help Blaine with his clothes. “Yeah, me too.”

Kurt begs Blaine to fuck him slowly, until they’re both sweating with it and twisting, their skin burns so hot they don’t know where one of them finishes and the other begins. Blaine babbles out a hundred promises until Kurt leans back over his shoulder and pulls his hair and kisses him to make him be quiet. They lay together, slowly moving together, until it’s too much and Kurt comes into the fist of Blaine’s hand and Blaine slips out of him to come across the curve of his ass.

They fall asleep without cleaning up.

~~*~~

Blaine won’t let him leave the bed the next morning. He gets bagels and fruit delivered because that’s the lifestyle on the Upper East Side, or so he tells Kurt. When Blaine stops kissing him long enough to slide underwear onr12; floral, disgustingly, hideously, perfectly floralr12;and collect the delivery from the guy knocking on Kurt’s door, Kurt blushes and giggle, making a mental note never to buy from them again. Blaine bounces back onto the bed with bags of food and an innocent smile.

They forget to have sex, though. The entire morning, they talk and talk about barely anything, and stop to make out like teenagers, and then talk some more. Kurt drags Blaine into the shower with him and says he has to strip the bed before he leaves because the movers are coming tomorrow for the last of his furniture and won’t be pleased if he doesn’t.  So they talk in the shower, and touch everywhere they’ve learnt in the last five days, and then pull the sheets off the bed together. 

The apartment is empty, leased to one of Kurt’s friends for the next nine months. All of Kurt’s things are either being shipped to London or have been put in storage and now there is only them, the bed, and Kurt’s luggage at the front door. And Max of course, racing around the wide-open spaces and barking at Blaine because he knows Blaine will bend to scratch behind his ears.

“Where are the sheets going?” Blaine asks when they’re done and the sheets are scrunched up in a plastic bag.

“My assistant is going to get them cleaned and then they’ll go to goodwill along with the duvet.” Kurt shrugs, there’s not much special about the set. “It’s too much effort to get her to throw them in storage as well, and they’re getting a bit ratty.”

“Can I have them?” Blaine asks. “Not in a creepy way or anything…” he trails off. “Actually yeah, it is creepy. I’d like to put them on my bed and be able to smell you there. That’s creepy, isn’t it?”

Kurt laughs at him and crawls across the naked mattress to kneel in front of him. “It’s romantic.”

Blaine mumbles, “What kind of laundry soap do you use?”

Kurt laughs at him, but tells him a moment later.

~~*~~

Alexis, Kurt’s assistant, turns up just before 2pm. She looks Blaine up and down and seems slightly confused when Kurt introduces him, but then Max is trotting out and she’s completely distracted. She scratches behind his ears and double checks that all his things are in the box by the door.

Then Blaine, fidgeting, leans into Kurt’s side and whispers something. When he pulls back, Alexis is even more confused to see Kurt grinning.

“Alexis,” Kurt says, stepping towards her and fixing her with his boss-eyes. “Blaine is going to be playing godparent while I’m away.”

She arches an eyebrow and turns her gaze on Blaine.

“To Max,” Kurt adds, as though that wasn’t clear.

Now it is even more bemusing, because Kurt gave her the third degree before he agreed to let her have him, and she’s been working with him for three years. She has never heard of Blaine and yet here he is, suddenly every bit Kurt’s other half.

“I could take him on some weekends,” Blaine adds, and he sounds enthusiastic, happy, and he is kind of gorgeous with his puppy-dog eyes and his grin. “Or I could just take him for walks. If you need to go out of town or… anything. I could help.” He sounds so keen, and when Alexis looks from him to Kurt and back, Blaine’s eyes are wide and such a deep brown that she immediately softens.  

“I don’t think I could go a whole year without seeing him,” Blaine admits, and now he’s looking at Kurt. Still the same soulful, loving look.

“Sounds good to me,” Alexis agrees, more intrigued than anything else. She takes Blaine’s offered phone and keys in her number. “Call me tonight and we will work something out.”

“Fantastic.” Blaine’s face splits into a grin.

Alexis gives Kurt another hard look, one that says that she expects a bit of back-story soon, and then clips Max’s leash onto his collar. “I’ll see you when I see you!” she says to Kurt and kisses him on the cheek.

Once she’s gone, Blaine crosses to behind Kurt, in the suddenly empty-feeling apartment, and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

~~*~~

They kiss on the stoop of Kurt’s apartment building, cab waiting to take him to JFK, Blaine’s phone vibrating in his pocket with calls from work. They hold hands and stand too close and when Blaine mumbles, “I love you,” Kurt mumbles it back.

“I’ll see you in a year,” Blaine says, beaming.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Kurt counters. “And I’m sure I’ll see you in not too long at all.”

Blaine kisses him once more and forces himself to let Kurt go.

~~*~~

When Kurt gets to the hotel that will be his home for at least a few weeks while his apartment is organized, there are flowers waiting for him, red and yellow roses, however predictable that might be.

There’s a note.

I know we’ve kind of only had the one date. But it did go for five days. And it was pretty fantastic. Enjoy London. Call me when you can.

Your long-distance boyfriend, Blaine, xoxo.

Kurt pulls his phone out and doesn’t care what time it is in New York. He sends a text quickly.

Kurt to Blaine

Loved the flowers. Love you. xoxo Kurt

Ten minutes later his phone vibrates in his pocket and Blaine’s face appears on the screen. Kurt laughs to himself and answers immediately, flopping back onto the hotel bed and breathing deep as soon as he hears Blaine’s voice.