Kurt walked down the staircase with an equally exquisite dark red suit on.

Nineteen minutes had passed, and neither of them had spoken a word. Blaine had carefully hung the navy suit back up on its hanger, and had selected the first bits of fabric he could get his hands on. As he had placed the new suit on the dressing screen, Blaine noticed he could see Kurt’s silhouette, he was lit from behind by the setting sun outside the small window Blaine hadn’t noticed before. Blaine backed up and stared. He had just kissed those lips, caressed those arms, kissed down that chest to that-

Blaine had to stifle a moan. Kurt was hard. Again. Blaine watched, transfixed, as Kurt reached up to grab his new trousers. Remembering that that hand was responsible for the mess currently in his own trousers almost sent Blaine over the edge again, but he stopped himself.  

He is your master, a future lord, a noble. You are his servant, a future nothing, a commoner. He has duties to his father, his family and his people. You have a duty to serve him, protect him, and keep his secrets. You are nothing but a servant to him. You will always be just a servant to him. Do what he asks of you, follow his orders, but do not fall in love with this one.

Kurt emerged from behind the dressing screen, and Blaine had to shake himself from his self reality check. Kurt wordlessly handed the jacket to Blaine, and as he put it on him, Kurt tried to stop thinking about how Blaine’s skills were much more useful when they were doing the opposite process. Blaine spun Kurt in the little circle, and had a 3-second internal debate about whether or not he should brush the piece of dust off Kurt’s shoulder. Both men ignored the spark that ensued after duty had won out over potential awkwardness. Blaine suppressed a sigh as he placed the end of the tie over the back of Kurt neck. His hands were so shaky that the Windsor knot took him a twenty extra seconds, during which Kurt stared pointedly ahead.

Blaine followed Kurt one step behind on the staircase, desperately trying not to check out Kurt’s ass in the tight red pants and failing miserably. He was relieved to find the ballroom still empty as they entered, though it was short lived. Lord Hummel and Lady Carol entered arm in arm, smiling and laughing with each other. Lord Hummel had on an incredibly sharp grey suit, which Blaine was 99% sure was of Kurt’s choosing. Lady Carol’s dress had long strands of iridescent beads which started at her bust line and went down to the floor, giving her a modern-yet-classic appeal. Behind them, a young man in a wheelchair: He wore very big spectacles, a black tuxedo with tails, and a top hat, and had the air of someone who adored dressing up but never really got the chance too. As he was wheeled closer it became apparent that he was trying to grow a mustache, but his face was determined to remain young. Master Finn was along side him, wearing the same suit as before (he obviously had yet to learn the procedure of dressing for dinner) and looking as dopey as ever, though it might have been more apparent due to Sir Abrams nurse. Ms Lopez had her dark hair in a long braid that trailed down her back, and a face that would’ve been beautiful if she hadn’t been scowling at Master Finn. She wore a simple white nurse’s uniform, a full skirt that started at the waist. The tight shirt revealed the reasons she had more-than-likely been hired for, because judging by the well practiced intensity of the scowl, it was doubtful she had a friendly disposition. Still, she seemed to take her job very seriously, pushing her patient at a steady pace into the room. At this moment Blaine realized how inappropriate it was for him to still be in the ballroom.

“Sir where shall I-“

“The kitchen. They’ll probably need you. Go.”

 Blaine was dismissed by a nod of the head, and Kurt’s eyes followed him from the room.

“Good evening, Master Hummel.”

Kurt turned, meeting Artie halfway for the handshake

“Good evening, Sir Abrams.”

The three gentlemen, Kurt, Artie, and Finn, walked over to one of the sitting areas tucked underneath the staircases.

They exchanged meaningless small talk for several minutes while Finn snuck oh-so-subtle peeks at the nurse’s breasts.

“I say, Sir Abrams, it’s certainly odd that you keep those horses!”

“Well, my good man, they have made me my fortune. Do you think I’d let one blasted fall ruin them all for me? Nonsense! The stable boys do what I can’t and sales are as high as they’ve ever been!”

“Do you think the growing popularity of the automobile will hurt you any?”

“People will always need horses, my good man. Right now, I have two spoiled brats from three counties over who are budding equestrians; they’re training for the Olympics!”

“My, how exciting!” Kurt was anything but fascinated; he’d heard this story at the last dinner about a week ago. He couldn’t stop thinking about Blaine; his hands, his smile, his eyes…his mouth. Kurt shuddered with pleasure at the extremely recent memory.

“I say, Master Kurt, are you ill?” Artie had noticed the shudder. “Santana, take a look at him!”

The nurse glared at Kurt in a way that no other servant (or human being) ever could. Santana had always made fun of him when they had been in school together, but she did it openly. She had told Kurt that she would never; ever work for him, his father, or anyone like either of them; so to find herself as a nurse for the very type of people she despised had to be not only torturous, but humiliating.

“No, No thank you Ms. Lopez, Sir Abrams, it was just a chill. We should eat soon. Mike!”

He appeared apparently from the woodwork, like he had just been waiting to assist.

“Yes, Master Kurt?”

“See if Father and Lady Carol are ready for dinner, I’m simply famished.”

“Yes sir, right away.”

“Who was that fellow who left the room as we entered, Master Hummel?”

Kurt inwardly rolled his eyes. Naturally, it was a pirate! A thief! A murderer! Or worse yet, an equestrian! Artie was full aware of his getting a new valet, but since Kurt was above him in social standing, Artie was too afraid to ask a more direct question.

“That would be Anderson, my new valet. He just started today.”

“Excellent! Do you think you’ll hang on to this one?”

Images flashed across Kurt’s mind of Blaine unbuttoning his shirt and kissing the skin, of Blaine giving him his first ever orgasm by another human being: of Blaine comforting him when he was crying about his mother, of Blaine telling him he wasn’t pathetic. Blaine; who didn’t pull away in disgust or horror when they kissed, who is more troubled than Kurt will ever know, who was so excited over broken furniture and a cracked mirror. Blaine who is slowly learning all of his secrets. Blaine; whom he already loved.

Kurt cleared his throat. “Yes, I think I’ll see how he works out.”

“Mr. Anderson!”

He spun around just a second too late, and one of the loaded trays Brittney was carrying fell to the floor.

“Blast! I am terribly sorry, I’m such a bumbling-“

Brittney laughed. “Tiiiiiinaaaaa, we need more souuuuppp!” she spoke slowly and exaggerated, like a small child, obviously amused by everything.

“Really, Brittney? Again? Yer lucky I got into tha habit of makin extra.”

Tina appeared with an identical equally loaded tray and handed it to Brittney with a pat on her head. She looked down, noticed Blaine, and giggled.

“Rule number one of the kitchen; ye look out for Brittney, not tha other way around.”

She reached out a hand and pulled Blaine to his feet.

“Go see if Mike needs any help, he’s in our dining room.”

“Where-?”

“Take ah right outta tha kitchen and its tha first door on the left.”

Blaine nodded his thanks and hurried off. He opened the now standard white door to find Mike sitting at the head of a very long polished table. The table was so enormous that there was barely room to push out the chairs.

“Wow.”

Mike looked up.

“You should’ve seen it when it was full. Could barely stand without knocking someone’s plate.”

“Is this another hand-me-down?”

Mike raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Master Kurt told you about that?”

Blaine nodded. “He said his mother always liked to help out the servants if she could.”

Mike stared at Blaine, his mouth agape.

“What, oh yes, I spilled-“

“Mr. Anderson.”

He stopped brushing chicken bits off his pants and looked up at Mike.

“I don’t think you understand what that means.” The look on Mike’s face was that of deep emotion, but it was impossible to tell whether it was positive or not.

“What?”

“Master Kurt never talks about his mother. Not even to his father. He says it’s too painful, and even though he adores Lady Carol you can tell he has never gotten over Lady Elizabeth’s death, God rest her soul.”

Blaine was surprised. “He mentioned her a few times, actually. When we went into his room...”

Mike jumped up from his seat and started moving towards Blaine. “He explained the colors?!”

“Yes. “

“I have been living here since her death, and he just finally explained the colors to me not 3 months ago. What did you do?”

Blaine shrugged uneasily “He just started talking about all the empty rooms, and then he jumped to telling me about how he went to school with you and Tina and your situation and he just kept telling me secrets after that.”

“Oh good gracious, you know our story?”

Blaine nodded. “He said you were his first and pretty much only friend.”

Mike sucked in a big breath of air. “No one apart from me, my wife, Lord Hummel and Kurt know the real reason of why we were hired. Not even Master Finn or Lady Carol.”

Blaine was horrified. Did he screw up? “I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life.”

Mike slapped the table, a grin on his face. “Nonsense! Blaine, this is truly fantastic. Kurt need someone to confide in, someone to tell all of his secrets to.”

Blaine blushed “Only four of them; he also shared his opinions of Master Finn’s potential wives.”

Mike nodded and then laughed. “Oh yes, he has many opinions about them, about everyone really. In school he’d always mutter the best insults at his tormentors, but was always just a little too polite to use them out loud.” Mike smiled at the memory, and then continued “And what was the final secret?”

Blaine said nothing, just stared very intensely at Mike. The two men let the wave of silent understanding wash over them.

 Mike cleared his throat, uneasy. “I see. It’s truly a miracle that you’ve managed to do this much in just one day. The only other valet he was ever close to was with him for 2 years and I don’t think he ever discovered as much as you did today.”

Blaine smiled, thinking about whom and what he had indeed done that day.

“You can go now, Blaine, I don’t need any help in here, and you obviously need to change, you don’t want to embarrass Master Kurt with that stain.”

For one horrifying moment, Blaine was concerned that the left over cum had seeped through his trousers, but then he remembered the soup incident.

“Of course, thank you Mike.” He smiled at the taller man and headed toward the door.

“Blaine?” He paused, not looking back because he knew what Mike was going to say.

“Be careful with his secrets.”

“Did you have a nice time at dinner, sir?” Blaine was, per instructions from Tina, waiting for Kurt in the ballroom.

 It took Sir Abrams a little bit longer than usual to say goodbye (which was saying something, considering how that man talked) because he had trouble locating his nurse after dinner. After an intense search by Mike, she was found with Brittney in the cellar, helping the former pick out jams for tomorrow. This in itself was rather odd, since, according to Tina, tomorrow’s menu does not call for any type of jam whatsoever. After a quick handshake and one incredibly lethal death glare, Kurt bid them goodnight.

“Yes, thank you Anderson, it was lovely.” See, I can pretend like nothing happened too.

“Are you ready to retire for the evening, sir?”

“Yes, it is very nearly ten.”

“And will you require my assistance in any way?”

Oh you have no idea how much you could assist me. My pants are far too tight

Remove them at once... “Yes, Anderson, I will require your services whenever I change clothes. Which is rather often I’m sorry to say.

 Oh no, I get to see you basically naked at least three times a day? Horrid luck, whatever shall I do?  “Quite alright, sir, it is a part of the job you gave me, after all.”

I much prefer the job you gave me earlier this evening. “How right you are, come along.”

Blaine followed the now familiar path to Kurt’s bedroom, half a step behind.

“Anderson, shut and lock that door.” Blaine did as he was asked, fumbling for a moment with the large ornate key.

When he turned around, Kurt was right there, his blue oceans carefully locked onto Blaine’s lips. It was hard to tell who moved first, perhaps they moved at the same time, but within an instant their mouths were pressed together and Kurt’s hands were clumsily trailing up and down Blaine’s sides. The young lord kissed his valet with such intensity it hurt his head; he lost focus of everything else. His senses only triggered by the movement of the beautiful boy he had pressed up against the door. And suddenly, a swell, a build-up, and his body was on fire. He broke away and pulled back with lightning speed. He looked at Blaine, his red face and incredibly mused hair, the expression of confusion (and hurt?) on his face.

“I’m so sorry Anderson; I don’t know what came over me. I am hardly one to act in such an ungentlemanly manner.”

“I-“

Kurt held up his hand. “This has to stop Anderson. What we just did and what we did earlier today can not be repeated or spoken about ever again. Is that clear?” It’s for the best. I hope. 

Blaine’s expression had shifted to something like shame. “Yes sir.” It’s what’s best. You’re only his servant.

“Good. My nightclothes are in the top shelf of the dressing table drawer.” Kurt disappeared behind his dressing screen, his candles, unfortunately, did not illuminate him in Blaine’s favorite way. Blaine pulled the drawer open to reveal beautiful blue silk pajamas with the initials “KEH” monogrammed in fancy gold thread. He put them over the screen.

“Thank you, now, in the third and fourth drawers there are several bottles you need to get out for me. I must keep up my skin care regimen.” Blaine obeyed and placed every newly-discovered bottle on the dressing table. He did not think it was possible for one person to own this much lotion.

Kurt emerged from the dressing screen. Why, why, must he look so incredibly handsome in everything? Most people look wretched in pajamas.

“Well done Anderson. That will be all. Please wake me at 7 tomorrow morning.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Goodnight, Anderson.”

“Sir?”

Kurt turned around on the stool he had just occupied. “Yes?”

Say it, just say it. You have nothing to lose. “You needn’t apologize for what happened. I don’t care for gentle-men very much anyway.”

And with that and a quick bow, Blaine Anderson quickly retreated to the hallway. After he closed the door, he slumped against the wall. He couldn’t believe he had just said that. What on Earth had he gotten himself into?