The bed hes lying in is soft, too soft, and unfamiliar with its smell and the fabric covering the pillow his head is resting on.

Kurt lets out a little groan as he stretches and turns over, eyes squinting against the bright light flooding the room through the curtains. The room is definitely not the small one he shares with Tina, too warm and bright and open. It takes a couple of seconds before he remembers about Blaine and smiles. That had probably been the easiest five hundred dollars he had ever made in his life. Blaine was nice; he smelled good; he was clean. And he had been willing to pay all that money just for Kurt to spend most of the night sleeping the best sleep he had had in years, since his father-

No, he isnt going to go there. He shoves the thoughts, the memories, down and rolls out of the bed. There is a fluffy white robe hanging on the back of the door of the bathroom when he goes in there to use the toilet and he happily wraps it around himself. It is as warm as it looks and smells clean and fresh. Kurt pads out into the main room, where he hears Blaine talking on the phone.

"Oh, and Eli? About your car?" A panicked voice comes from the phone, though Kurt cant make out the words. "It handles like a dream." Blaine chuckles as he hangs up, setting the phone aside and turning at Kurts quiet, "Good morning."

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Too well. I kind of forgot where I was." Kurt has the decency to at least look a little embarrassed but he is feeling too relaxed to really care that much. He wanders outside for a brief walk around the balcony before returning to where Blaine is watching him.

"Are you hungry? I ordered a little bit of everything; I wasnt sure what you would like." He lifts the tops off of two plates of food, but Kurt sits on one of the chairs and reaches for one of the chocolate croissants sitting in a basket in the middle of the table instead.

"Did you sleep any last night?" Kurt asks to break the silence.

"I did on the couch for a little while," Blaine replies, flicking his finger at the screen of his tablet.

"So you dont drink, you barely sleep and you dont really eat. What kind of drugs are you on?"

Blaine finally sets the tablet down, looking at Kurt. "Excuse me?"

"Drugs. I mean, I dont do them, but Im not going to knock you if you do them. Something has to keep you going."

Blaine lets out a snort, shaking his head. "Im high on life, thats all. No drugs for me."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Wow." Kurt picks at his croissant, chewing slowly. "What is it you do, then, that gives you such a high? Because I know youre not a lawyer."

"Nope, not a lawyer. I buy companies that are in financial difficulties and then I break them apart and sell the pieces off to the highest bidder." Blaine turns back to his tablet.

"Financial difficulties, huh? So you must get them pretty cheap."

"Well, the company Im buying this week, Ill be getting for the cheap, cheap price of six billion dollars."

Kurt chokes on his food. "S-six billion- Holy shit."

"Yup."

"Thats crazy." Kurt swallows and takes a drink of orange juice. "Your parents must be proud of having such a smart son."

Blaines lips quirk into a sad smile. "If youll excuse me?"

He stands, leaving his tablet on the table. Kurt watches him leave, back into the bedroom, and then starts to really tear into the food, eating until hes full on the first real meal hes had in weeks. Business has been slow and he isnt about to lose the opportunity to eat what he can before he is back out on the streets. He wonders if he could get some food to go, but doesnt want to press his luck by asking. Instead, he goes to the bedroom, where Blaine is now fully dressed in trousers and a white button up, attempting his thin black tie.

"So you dont actually have six billion dollars, do you?"

"What? No. I get some from investors, from banks, stuff like that."

"Here, let me do that." Kurt slaps his hands away from the tie and hops on the counter. "So you just tear companies apart? You dont make anything; you dont do anything?" His fingers are quick as he flips and tucks and then tightens the tie. "There, much better."

"Thats- thats really good. No, we just buy companies, really." Blaine watches him as he hops off of the counter and walks away. "How did you learn to do that?"

"I screwed the debate team in high school," Kurt says with a smirk. When Blaine just looks at him, he rolls his eyes. "Believe it or not, I wasnt always a hooker. I used to be a perfectly well dressed, respectable young man. I liked ties and bow ties." Blaine hums as he adjusts the tie and tucks it into his pants before slipping on his waistcoat. "Say, do you mind if take a dip in your tub before I go?"

"Sure, just try not to drown."

"Oh, think of the scandal that would cause!" Kurt winks.

888

Blaines gathering up his things, preparing to head to the office, when his cell phone buzzes, Mozart tinkling from the speakers.

"Hello, Eli."

"Blaine, hey, I just wanted to let you know that tonight is all set up with Evans. Im sending you an email with the details. Just to let you know, though, hes bringing his son with him."

"Why?" A beautiful voice is pouring out of the bathroom, the acoustics in there making it echo out into the foyer. Blaine follows it like a sirens call as Eli keeps talking.

"Do I look like a mind reader? I dont know, I think hes grooming him to take over or something."

"Yeah, his name is Lucas. Very determined. He plays polo for the Westlake Club."

"Why the hell did you ask if you already knew?" Blaine snickers, imagining the irritated look on Elis face. "Never mind. Look, I really dont feel comfortable with you going by yourself tonight. Why dont you let me make a few calls; I know a lot of hot guys."

"No, you dont," Blaine counters, pushing open the bathroom door to see Kurt lounging in the bathtub, filled with bubbles, and he has ear plugs stuck in his ears, the cord leading to a smartphone, singing along to Teenage Dream.

"What is that?"

"The housekeeper is singing." Blaine feels creepy watching him, but Kurt looks beautiful like this, more relaxed than when Blaine had seen him sleeping after he got out of the shower last night. The wheels in his head are turning swiftly, plans and ideas unfolding.

"Shes pretty good. Anyway, about that date-"

"No thanks, Eli. Besides, I already have a date."

"Anyone I know?"

"No."

Theres a pause and then Eli sighs. "Youre not going to tell me, are you?"

"No. Why dont you focus on finding out what Evans is hiding and Ill see you in a little while." He hangs up before Eli can reply and Blaine smirks. Its going to drive his old friend crazy not knowing.

He perches on the edge of the tub, smiling stupidly until Kurt opens his eyes. He looks completely embarrassed, pulling his earplugs out. "Gotta love Katy Perry."

"More than life itself."

"Do I need to get going?" Kurt starts sitting up, but Blaine stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No, not yet. Listen, I have a business proposition for you, if you will."

"Im all ears."

"Im going to be in town until Sunday. I would like to pay you to keep me company for the week, to be at my beck and call, as it were."

Kurt blinks at him. "What?"

"I need someone to escort around to dinners and private clubs and such."

"A rich, good looking guy like you? How do you not have people knocking down your door?"

"I dont want any romantic entanglements this week and I dont have time for them either, as the ex-boyfriend currently moving out of my New York apartment and the ex-husband living in my ex house in Long Island can attest to."

"So its just easier for you to buy a hooker for the week."

Blaine shrugs. "Pretty much."

"So six days?"

"Yes. How much?"

"Lets see... Eight thousand." Kurt raises an eyebrow challengingly at him.

"Five hundred a night for six days is three thousand."

"But youre also asking for days. My time is valuable."

"Six thousand."

"Seven."

"Done."

Kurts eyes nearly bug out of his head. "Holy shit!" He sinks completely into the water, his long legs kicking a bit and sloshing the water.

"Kurt? Is that a yes? Kurt!"

The boy finally emerges, laughing and sputtering through the bubbles clinging to his face. "Yes! Yes, thats a yes!"

Blaine laughs with him, grabbing a hand towel and gently knocking some of the bubbles away. "Once youre done, well talk some more, okay? Im going to finish getting ready."

888

Kurt is still giddy when he finishes rinsing in the shower. He had been too excited after Blaines proposal to linger in the tub, instead hopping out and using some of the obviously expensive soap in the shower to clean up before toweling his hair dry and wrapping the towel around his waist. The eyeliner he had been wearing had left the slightest of smudges under his eyes, but they are quickly wiped away using some sweet-smelling facial lotion left in a shallow bowl by the sink by the hotel staff. He uses the blow dryer and some hairspray to sweep his hair back in its usual just fucked look, though without the green hair dye.

Feeling better, he goes into the bedroom, where Blaine is moving around, clipping silver cuff links into the holes of his sleeves and snapping them closed.

"Ill pay you in full at the end of the week. Now, while youre here, youll need to be dressed appropriately, since we may be going out evenings," Blaine says, not looking at Kurt as he buttons his waistcoat. He takes in the sight of Kurts naked torso as he passes to his suit jacket. He digs in a pocket and pulls out his wallet, counting out several bills. "Take this and go buy yourself some new clothes. Formal, business casual, casual, a little bit of everything."

Blaine checks his watch and starts walking, continuing to talk as he puts his jacket on and grabs his bag, bulging with electronics and papers. "Now, I have to go, but if you need me, my cell and office number are on the desk in the foyer. I need you to be ready and waiting at six thirty tonight."

Hes about to open the door when Kurt says, "Ill see you tonight." Blaine barely stops, but he does smile at Kurt sincerely before closing the door behind him.

Kurt manages to hold his squeal of delight in for all of three seconds. Giddily dancing around the room, he hears his phone blaring True Colors and runs back into the bedroom, where his phone had been dropped on the nightstand.

"Tay, youre never going to guess what happened!" he chirps happily.

888

After dropping an envelope off at the front desk with Tinas name on the front and a firm demand that it not be opened, Kurt heads out to Rodeo Drive, a wad of cash in his pocket and a bit of a pep in his step. He sees people staring at him, at his worn clothes, rumpled after a night on the floor, but doesnt think anything of it until he enters one of the shops. Hes content with browsing for the moment; its mostly full of boring clothes, in dull shades, but maybe he can find something decent.

"Can I help you?" a snooty, falsely cheerful voice asks.

Kurt turns to see a tiny slip of a girl with long brown hair and a hideous sweater. "Not with that sweater."

The girl gasps, her face contorting in rage. "Excuse me?"

"That sweater is positively heinous; I would slap whoever gave it to you."

"Whats going on over here?" An older man rushes over at the girls squawk of outrage, eyes flicking over Kurt with something akin to disgust.

"This vagabond just insulted me!" the girl snaps.

"Vagabond?" Kurt glares at her.

"Sir, Im afraid Im going to have to ask you to leave," the man says.

"Excuse me?"

"Its obvious you dont belong here." The man sneers, looking Kurt up and down openly. "We dont have anything for your type. All of our pieces are high quality, and I wont have you insulting my employees. Please leave."

Theyre both glaring at him and he feels humiliated, the tips of his ears burning. "Fine." He turns on his heel, holding his head up high as he storms out. He wishes the door could slam shut, and curses the stupid air compressor things that stop it from being able to. He makes it all the way to the lobby of the hotel without letting a tear fall, determined to make it to the room before letting himself have a good cry, but a voice stops him.

"Excuse me, sir, may I help you?" An arm reaches out to grab him and he jerks back on instinct.

"What."

A severe-looking woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun is standing there. "I said may I help you?"

"I was going to my room." Kurt turns to continue, but shes stops him again.

"Do you have a key?"

"Crap, I forgot the little card thing. Um, Im on the top floor, the penthouse." Hes going to kill Blaine for sending him out on this stupid mission for new clothes and then not giving him a way back into the hotel room, on top of the terrible shopping experience.

"Youre a guest here?"

"Im here with someone."

"And who would that be?"

"Blaine."

"Blaine?" She trails off, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

"Uh, Blaine…" Shit, what was his last name? "Blaine… Blaine…"

The elevator suddenly dings and a familiar head pokes out. "He knows me!" Kurt says, pointing at the elevator operator.

"Noah!" the woman barks, making the man jump. She motions him over. "Did you just get off of the night shift?"

"Yes, maam."

"Do you know this man?"

"Yes, he came in last night with Mr. Anderson." The man, Noah, wrinkles his nose but submits to her rebuttoning his collar with the exasperation of someone who has been through it several times before.

"Anderson, thats it! Thanks, Noah." Kurt gets into the open elevator, but is followed by the woman, who catches him by the arm and gently leads him out. "Are you kidding me? What now? I already told you who I was here with!"

"I just want to have a little chat with you, sir, right this way. Thank you, Noah," she adds as she leads Kurt off. He grumbles under his breath the whole way to her office and flops down, irritated, once they get there. "Now, whats your name, sir?"

"What do you want it to be?"

The woman gives him a severe look as she leans against the desk, standing in front of him. "Dont toy with me, young man."

"Kurt."

"Thank you, Kurt. Now, I run a tight ship here at the Regent Beverly Wilshire. I dont allow any nonsense that might go on at other hotels to occur within these walls." She folds her hands in front of her, holding his eyes with her own green ones. "However, Mr. Anderson is a very special customer and we tend to think of our very special customers as friends. We would expect him to sign in any additional guests, but since hes a friend, were going to overlook that. Im assuming that you are…" She trails off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

Kurts mind races before he stutters out, "His nephew." Oh, god, thats gross, dont think about it.

"Of course. So Im assuming that once Mr. Anderson leaves, I will no longer see you, correct?"

"Yes, maam."

"Good." She straightens up and starts to move behind her desk. "Now that we have that all cleared up, I would like to encourage you to dress a little more appropriately. That will be all."

"No, thats not all. I tried to- I tried to get some new clothes, I have all this money, but there was this bitch at the shop and they wouldnt let me buy anything. I tried, okay? I need a suit for dinner tonight and nobody wanted to help me." The tears he had been keeping at bay finally make an appearance, burning his eyes as he tries to calm himself down.

The woman watches him carefully for a second before picking up the phone on her desk.

"Great, just great, youre going to call the cops on me. I should have known." Kurt rolls his eyes, accepting the tissue she holds out to him.

"Mens clothing. Artie, please." A moment later, "Artie, hello, this is Quinn Fabray, at the Regent Bev-" Quinn grins. "Yes, I know. Yes, that sounds like a great idea. Listen, I have a young man here that could really use your expertise; hes a special guest. The nephew of a very special guest. Mmhm, yes. Great, Ill send him along. Thank you."

Quinn hands him a card with a name and an address. "Go there and ask for Artie; hell be able to help you."

Kurt can feel more tears stinging his eyes, this time from happiness, as he grasps her hand and shakes it. "Thank you."

It seems like no time at all and then hes opening the doors to a high-end shop, a bit more modern than the other shop and a lot less dull. A man in a wheelchair rolls up to him and offers his hand. "Hi, are you Kurt?"

Kurt takes his hand, shaking it firmly. "I am. Artie?"

"Thats me! Follow me, home slice, well get you dressed up all pretty for your uncle." Artie leads the way towards the back of the store.

"Artie, can I tell you a secret? Hes not really my uncle."

"They never are, dawg."

888

Blaine paces the room as the projector rolls, pictures in a powerpoint flashing on the screen as one of his colleagues drones on about things he already knows about Evans Shipping and the vast possibilities the real estate presents. The door opening behind him catches his attention as one of the interns rushes to Elis side, whispering.

"Blaine, we just got an update about Evans. John, hold the powerpoint, would you?"

The lights come on and they all blink to adjust their eyes as they focus on the intern.

"Speak," Eli barks.

"Evans just got the inside track on a $350 million contract to build Navy destroyers."

"What?" Eli turns to one of the men sitting around the table. "You said they had nothing! This is going to botch the whole deal."

"Maybe its a good thing were finding out about this now?" one of the men pipe up. "I mean, those stocks could go through the roof; it might be a good time to back out."

"Back out? Are you kidding me?" Eli yelled. "Weve got too much time and money invested in this deal!"

"Eli, calm down," Blaine says. Eli takes a deep breath before sitting down. "Who do we know on the Appropriations committee?"

"Senator James," Eli supplies after a moment of wracking his brain.

"Good. Give him a call, ask him to bury the contract. Evans cant get the money if he cant get the contract, and the Navy isnt going to spend that much money without going through Appropriations."

The intern scurries away to make the calls while Eli stands and starts pacing. "I dont understand how you people could have missed that."

"Thats why I leave all my worrying to you," Blaine says, patting Elis shoulder as he passes on his way to grab his bag. "Tom, send me the rest of the powerpoint, would you?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Anderson."

"Thank you. Eli, Ill be in your office." Blaine is almost out the door when Eli reaches out for him.

"Blaine, everything set for the meeting tonight?"

"You set it up and I have faith in you."

"As well you should. Listen… Who is this guy youre going with?"

"Nobody you know," Blaine says with a smirk.

"Jackass."

888

Quinn is busy with someone, but Kurts a little pressed for time, so he apologizes profusely to the guy shes speaking with as he pulls her aside.

"Hey, I just wanted to say thank you. Artie was amazing and I really appreciate your help."

"Its no problem, Kurt." Quinn smiles at him with a measure of warmth that hadnt been there earlier in the day. "I can expect you to be dressed correctly the next time I see you?" she asks, her eyes flicking to the clothes from the night before that hes still wearing.

"Yes, I just didnt want to mess up the suit. Thanks again, Quinn."

Kurt practically bounces upstairs, armed with the keycard Quinn had given him after their first meeting. The phone in the room is ringing when he gets there and he rushes to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Do not ever answer the phone."

"Blaine?"

"Thats me."

"Why the hell are you calling me, then?"

"I dont have your cell number. Anyway, I wanted to remind you to be ready at six thirty, sharp. Ill be waiting for you in the lobby."

"You got it, boss. Where are we going, anyway?"

"To a restaurant called the Voltaire."

"Oh, French, merci."

"You speak French?"

"Oui!" He rattles out several sentences in French and Blaine doesnt know what hes saying, but fuck, thats hot.

"You are a man of many talents, Kurt."

"Baby, you dont know the half of it."

"Ill see you tonight."

They hang up and Kurt sits back, rolling his eyes at his boss. Hes almost to the bathroom when the phone rings again and he rushes back over.

"Hello?"

"I told you dont answer the phone."

"Then stop calling me!"

Kurt can hear Blaine chuckling on the other end of the line before he hangs up. Unable to keep the smile off his face, he goes to get ready for his big not-date.

888

Blaine enters the lobby, eyes already searching for Kurt. Hes running a bit late and he was hoping that Kurt was already going to be waiting for him, but a quick sweep of the room shows there is no lithe young man there for him. Hes about to ask the front desk to call up to his room when a woman begins following him.

"Mr. Anderson? Im Quinn Fabray, the manager of this hotel."

Blaine spared her a quick glance and a distracted smile. "Yes, hello. If youll excuse me, I have a call I need-"

"Actually, I have a message for you, sir."

"A message?"

"From your nephew."

This made Blaine stop. "My nephew?"

"The young man staying with you," Ms. Fabray clarifies.

Oh, thank god it wasnt some random kid claiming to be Coopers long lost son. "I think we both know hes not really my nephew."

"Of course."

"So what is the message?" Blaine asks.

"That hes waiting for you in the lounge." Quinn points to the wide arch that opens to a low lit bar area.

"Ah. Well, thank you very much, Ms. Fabray."

"Have a good evening, sir."

Blaine heads the way she pointed, eyes peeled for Kurt, but hes still nowhere to be found.

Until he turns around.

Gone is the fucked out bed head the boy normally sports. His hair has been freshly trimmed and neatly done, swooped up into a high pompadour in the front, completely free of green streaks. He smiles brightly at Blaine and steps gracefully down from the raised dais of the bar to stand in front of Blaine.

"You are late."

"You are stunning."

Kurt blushes, the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears pinking. "I suppose I could forgive you this time."

Blaine doesnt try to fight down his smile as he offers his arm. "I will do my best to ensure it never happens again. Shall we?"

Kurt loops his arm through Blaines and lets him lead the way outside to the waiting limo. Blaine cant seem to tear his eyes away and Kurt alternately preens and blushes under his stare. The ride is spent in comfortable silence and it seems to take no time at all before theyre pulling up to Voltaire. A valet opens the door and Blaine slides out first, offering his hand, which Kurt takes gratefully. The building looks very nice, high-end and elegant, and theres a strip of red carpet leading to the door, which is held open by another man.

"Wow, this place…" Kurt breathes, his eyes huge and Blaine cannot take his eyes off of him.

"Lovely, isnt it?"

"It is." Theyre led to their table by the maitre d and when they arrive, they find that their dining companions for the night are already there, conversing quietly with each other.

"Mr. Evans."

The men stand; the older one, about Blaines age with blond hair, reaches out to shake Blaines hand. "Mr. Anderson, how are you? This is my son, Luke."

"Pleased to meet you both," Blaine says, shaking Lukes hand. "This is my friend, Kurt Hummel. Kurt, Sam and Luke Evans."

"So nice to meet you both," Kurt says, shaking both of their hands before they sit, Blaine politely scooting Kurts chair forward. Theyre just getting comfortable when the waiter comes by, passing out menus. Kurt frowns because none of the things listed have a price.

"Just pick whatever you want," Blaine whispers out the side of his mouth.

Its difficult to choose, but he finally finds something, and then its only a matter of waiting once their order has been taken. He knows what Blaines doing, how hes trying to buy the company, but he doesnt know what hes supposed to be doing. Is he just supposed to be arm candy?

He spends most of the meal watching Luke and Blaine interact, Sam occasionally pitching in thoughts and talking a bit with Kurt, but mostly watching his son in pride. It isnt until theyre halfway through the main course that things come to a head.

"So what, exactly are you planning to do with my familys company, should you ever get control of it like you think you will?" Luke asks.

"Im going to break it up into pieces and sell them off," Blaine replies easily, cracking an escargot open and eating the snail inside. Kurt tries not to wrinkle his nose; he had never really been one to like that particular delicacy.

"I dont know if I like the idea of you taking 150 years of my familys sweat and blood and turning it into some bastardized version of a garage sale," Sam says, straightening in his seat.

"Mr. Evans, the amount of money Im willing to pay is going to make you a very rich man."

"I dont want to be rich; I want to keep my familys legacy intact." For the first time, Sams voice raises angrily, startling Kurt, who accidentally spills some of his lobster bisque on the table when his hand jerks.

"Oh, no, Im so sorry," he says, attempting to mop it up with his napkin, despite the sudden swarm of servers appearing to help. It takes a few minutes to sort everything out and by the time the table is covered with a fresh cloth, tempers have cooled enough to continue with their meal.

Ice cream, meant to cleanse the palate. Kurt takes a small bite as he watches them get right back down to business.

"You know, I met your father a few months ago," Sam says casually. "What was his name, John?"

"James."

"Ah, yes. Hes not quite the bastard everyone says he is."

"No, I have the monopoly on that," Blaine says.

"He must be so proud."

"Unlikely, not that it matters anymore. He passed away recently."

Sam looks taken back and a little sorry he brought it up. "Oh, Im sorry to hear that."

"Im sorry, too," Kurt adds. Blaine just lets it roll off his shoulders with a shrug.

"Mr. Evans, you asked for this meeting, so please tell me what I can do for you."

"Leave my shipyard alone."

"Im afraid I cant do that. I own twenty million shares."

"Ill buy it back from you."

"You dont have the money for it."

"Not yet, but were getting a contract to build ten destroyers for the Navy," Luke says smugly.

"No, youre not; that contract is dead on the water, as it were, and thats where it will remain," Blaine retorts, effectively shooting down their last high card.

"What?"

"How in the hell did you manage that? Got dirty politicians in your pockets?" Luke snaps.

"Calm down, Luke, calm down," Sam says soothingly, laying his hand on his sons arm. "Mr. Anderson here likes to play hardball."

"Yes, I do."

Luke tosses down his napkin and starts to stand. "Well, Ive heard enough of this. Kurt, it was truly a great pleasure meeting you, but Im afraid I need some air. Father, Mr. Anderson." And with that, hes gone, leaving a stressed-looking Sam behind.

"Im going to join him outside, if you dont mind. You two enjoy your dinner." Sam stands and Blaine follows suit. "Youre not the only one who knows how to play hardball, Anderson."

"I look forward to it, Mr. Evans." Once Sam has gone, Blaine sits back down to an awkward silence.

"Hes seems nice," Kurt offers tentatively. Blaine chuckles drily.

"Apparently money doesnt buy loyalty." Servers begin sitting their salads down, but Blaine waves them off from the two empty seats. "No, just the two, thank you."

"Yes, sir." The server bows respectfully and backs away.

The rest of the meal and the trip back to the hotel are spent in silence and as soon as theyre back, Kurt goes to the bedroom to take off his shoes and suit jacket, leaving his waistcoat unbuttoned. It has been years since he has worn nice clothes like these and, even though it feels like coming home, he isnt used to it the way he had once been. A quick search finds Blaine sitting in a chair, half out of the doorway of the balcony.

"I thought you never came out here?" Kurt asks. "You never really told me why."

Blaine smiles ruefully. "I dont like heights."

"But youre out here now…"

Blaine shrugs, looking at his chair. "Not really. Only a little bit."

"Are you okay?" Kurt asks, tilting his head to the side as he observes Blaine. "It was kind of a quiet end to dinner tonight." When Blaine just nods absent mindedly, Kurt barrels on. "I thought the business was good, though. He wants to keep his company, understandably, but you want to buy it."

"Thanks for the recap."

"Theres just one problem."

"And whats that?"

"You like the elder Mr. Evans."

"What makes you say that?"

Kurt shrugs, hopping up on the thick ledge. "I can tell things like that."

"Can you- Kurt, please get down from there, youre making me nervous." Blaine sits up straight, his entire body posed to move if he needs to.

"Why? Because Im sitting up here?" Kurt gets a mischievous look on his face and leans back. "What if I started falling? Would you save me?"

"Thats not funny, Kurt." Blaine looks like hes about to have a panic attack.

"Oh, look-"

"Im not looking!" Blaine closes his eyes and looks away.

"No hands!"

Blaine still wont look at him, so Kurt stops messing around, leaning forward and hopping down easily. "Okay, okay, Im getting down. See, all safe?"

Blaine finally peeks when Kurt comes to stand next to him. "Thank you. Look, the fact of the matter is, its irrelevant if I like Sam or not. I dont let myself get emotionally involved in business; it always ends badly."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Thats why no kissing on the mouth. Its too personal, leads to emotions and thats not a good thing when youre turning tricks. You gotta stay numb, like you said. I mean, when Im with a guy, I go all robot and just do it."

Blaine gives him a look and Kurt quickly backtracks. "I mean, obviously not when Im with you."

"Save it, Kurt," Blaine says. "Its okay."

"Im sorry to hear about your dad," Kurt tries to change the subject. "When did he die?"

"Last month."

"Oh. I know what its like to lose a parent. Do you miss him?"

"Not really. I hadnt spoken with him in sixteen years. I didnt know he had died until my brother called me the next day."

"Oh." Kurt kneels down next to him, resting his chin on the arm of the chair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," comes the answer, firm but not harsh.

"Okay, I have an idea. How about we strip down and just veg out on the sofa and watch some really trashy reality television."

"Veg out, huh?"

"Yeah, lay out like broccoli."

"Broccoli."

"What? Its delicious, it just gets a bad rap."

Blaine laughs, standing. "Look, I- Im going to go down to the lounge for a bit, just make yourself comfortable here, okay? Veg out." Without waiting for a reply, Blaine stands and trails two fingers down the line of Kurts jaw before hes leaving, the door clicking closed behind him as he exits the penthouse.

Kurt sighs. He feels bad about pushing Blaine like he did about his dad. If anyone knows what its like to lose parents, its him. He gathers up some chocolate and settles himself down on the sofa, ready for a night of binge eating and an I Dream Of Jeannie marathon.

He jolts awake to laughter recorded decades ago and looks around. The bed is empty and the room is dark. Kurt fumbles around for his phone on the coffee table and squints at the bright light of the screen.

3:07 a.m.

With a groan, Kurt rolls off the sofa, pulling on the robe he had grabbed from the bathroom after he took off his clothes from dinner. Noah is on night duty again and hes more than happy to take Kurt down to the lobby. He points the way to the lounge with a smile and Kurt pads there to find several people putting up the chairs and tables for the night while the bartender cleans up the bar.

And there, playing the piano set up on the stage with all the grace and skill of a classically trained pianist, is Blaine.

Kurt walks slowly towards him, ignoring the looks he gets, and stands there, waiting until Blaine finishes the piece with a little flourish. Theres scattered applause and Blaine turns.

"Thank you, thank you, Ill be here all week."

"I didnt you know you played," Kurt says, moving to stand next to the piano.

"Theres a lot you dont know about me. I dont play often anymore, mostly just for strangers."

Kurt hums, moving closer. "You know, its pretty lonely upstairs, all by myself."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Blaine doesnt take his eyes off of Kurt as he says, "Would you guys mind leaving us, please?"

Theres a shuffle of feet and a few calls of "Sure" and "Good night" until the room is quiet and theyre alone.

"Do people always do what you tell them to do?" Kurt asks.

Blaine doesnt reply, simply cupping Kurts waist and scooting him closer so that his ass hits the piano keys, plinking out discordant notes. Blaine just leans forward, pressing his forehead into Kurts stomach and breathing. Hesitant, Kurt brings his hands up, carding them through Blaines hair and scritching at his scalp with his nails. Something stirs within him - more than arousal, more than want or lust, but warm and happy - and it scares him. Blaines head lifts and his eyes linger a second on Kurts lips before he looks down, tugging at the tie of the robe. It falls open easily, Blaine pushing the sides open to reveal his almost-naked torso, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, and placing a kiss right under Kurts sternum.

He stands, his hands on Kurts waist as he lifts him easily and sets him down on the piano top, feet and thighs hitting the keys and causing more notes to rise sharply in the air. Blaine runs his fingers through Kurts hair and cups the back of his head. Kurt knows what Blaines going to do before he can do it, can see the look in his eyes, the way they keep falling to his lips, but he cant, he wont do that. He has rules for a reason.

Blaine tries anyway, tugging his head forward, but Kurt resists. Resists the tug of Blaines hand, the tug in his belly, the way his heart screams yes even as his head yells no. He leans to the side, pressing a kiss to the side of Blaines neck, scratchy with stubble, and leans back, bracing his hands on the piano as Blaine spreads his legs, his feet once again hitting the keys as Blaine grabs his ass and pulls him to the edge of the piano, nestling between his thighs.

The aborted attempt at a kiss brings Blaine to trail his lips down Kurts jaw and neck, something he willingly submits to, tipping his head back so that Blaine has more space. A gasp is pulled from him as Blaine latches onto that one spot on Kurts neck that drives him wild. His hips thrust up involuntarily and he can feel Blaine smiling as he bites and sucks.

"Blaine." His voice catches as he grows harder in his shorts. Hes finally released as Blaine continues to kiss down his chest, nipping here and there. With every inch, Kurt lays further and further back on the piano until hes flat on his back. He tries to breathe normally, but his body is screaming to kiss Blaine, right on the lips, to get closer until they are sweaty body against sweaty body, but he knows better and, right now, the best thing to do is resist. A few more days and then Blaine will be gone. Kurt knows better than to get attached.

His underwear is pulled down his long legs and then Blaine is burying his face in the thatch of pubic hair at the base of Kurts cock, breathing in the scent as his fingers dig into Kurts hips. He reaches into the pocket of his robe and pulls out a condom, trying to push it at Blaine, who ignores him.

"Please."

One word, partially pleading, and Blaine takes the condom. The little foil packet is ripped open and the condom rolled down Kurts cock. Its barely on before Blaine is sinking his mouth down over him, causing Kurt to cry out and try to buck under Blaines firm grip. Its been so long since someone did this to him that he had forgotten how good it felt, even with the condom on. Johns tend to want to be serviced, not to service other people.

One hand leaves his hips and Blaines entire arm slides over to make up for it. A dry finger is pressed against his hole and, combined with the warm, sucking feeling on his cock, it drives Kurt to the point where he gasps, "Stop, stop, Im going to come." He would feel embarrassed by how easily he got to that point, but hes honestly too turned on to care.

"Shit, I dont have any lube," Blaine groans. Kurt fumbles in the pocket again, his feet knocking on the piano keys again, and comes out with a lube packet, nearly poking Blaine in the eye in his haste to pass it off. "Always prepared, huh?" Blaine chuckles.

"Yup, Im a regular boy scout. Please, Blaine." Kurt tries to arch his hips but Blaines hold on him is unrelenting. He settles down, staring at the ceiling as he pants, his fingers twisting in his hair as Blaine slips one lubed finger inside him.

This is another thing he has been denied for so long. Johns dont care about prep; they want a quick fuck without waiting for him to stretch himself. He has been doing it to himself for so long that he has forgotten what it is like for someone else to do it. It is… intimate. It feels so good, but he fights against the warmth still curling happily in his chest that makes him want to give in and press a kiss to those lips that look so soft and inviting.

A tear leaks out of one of his eyes as Blaine peppers kisses on his stomach and thighs while sliding in a second finger. Its overwhelming, but Kurt tells himself that he can have it, that one tear, and then he will become a robot again. It drips quickly down the side of his face and he leaves it, doesnt try to wipe away the evidence or hide it from anyone. He takes a deep breath and his body becomes lax.

Blaine adds another finger and murmurs, "Youre so beautiful."

The bits of metal he puts up around his heart take a beating, but he fortifies it and lets out a half-faked moan when Blaine brushes against his prostate. "Fuck me." He digs out another condom, suddenly thankful he had slipped whatever handful he grabbed in passing into his pocket. Sitting up, he quickly undoes Blaines pants and rips open the condom packet, rolling it down Blaines cock, but the angle is too awkward with Blaines shorter stature next to the piano and, to be honest, Kurt isnt sure he can handle face to face sex right now.

He slides off the piano, plunking the keys carelessly as he removes the robe, and turns, looking over his shoulder at Blaine. "How do you want me?"

Forever.

Blaine doesnt speak, just takes Kurts hands and places them on the piano cover. The sound of the bench moving away echoes throughout the empty room. Theres a shuffle of movement and the slick sound of Blaine lubing up his cock and then-

"Oh, god," Kurt groans, fingers gripping the piano tightly. Blaine is big and it feels amazing as he presses inside. Kurt relaxes his body and bears down, taking it all with one slick motion. Blaine doesnt give him time to adjust, just starts pounding roughly into him, his balls slapping against Kurts ass and his fingers holding him with a punishing grip.

Its like Kurt needs, just a hard fuck, no kisses on his shoulders, no sweat-sticky skin pressed to his own. Its what he needs to keep his distance.

Its just not what he wants.

He comes with Blaines cock buried deep inside him, his hips grinding against Kurts ass, the zipper pressing roughly against the skin of his ass, and his hand firmly stroking him through the condom. Blaine doesnt stop, pounding into him harder than before, his hands on Kurts shoulders, pushing him down onto Blaines cock until he pulls out suddenly. Theres the sound of a condom being rapidly removed and then warm splatters on his ass and lower back as Blaine comes on him. His arms give out and he falls forward, burying his face in them, feeling drained physically and emotionally.

A sweaty forehead is pressed against the back of his neck and soft hands stroke his sides. Kurt bites his lip and tries not to cry.