Kurt wasnt keeping track, but he was pretty sure this was the eighth time he had talked himself out of going tonight.

"You know what? I think I should stay here and work on your gown for the showcase. I had planned on using the black, but after seeing it under the light I really think the royal blue would show up so much better because the club is so dark." Mercedes didnt look like she believed him - even though he really was reconsidering her wardrobe for the performance. And if he changed the gowns he had planned on, then he had at least a few days worth of work to perfect the replacements. It wasnt just some flimsy excuse. It was a well-rationalized excuse. Not that that changed the deadpan are you kidding me? look hed learned to recognize at age 8.

"If you dont want to go see him, why did you agree to go on a date?"

"Its not a date," he stated firmly. He would never have agreed to go on a date with the man, of that he was absolutely certain. "Its coffee and catching up. By which he better mean a host of apologies or its going to be a very short catch-up."

"Youll walk out if his first words arent Im sorry for ruining things literally half our lifetime ago?" she asked skeptically.

Kurt wanted to say yes - he wanted to make plain from the outset that he was doing this as a favour after Blaines performance, that this was not some sign that the man had won him back somehow through the power of some stupid (and kind of cute) song. He needed to be crystal clear on that this was to let Blaine clear his conscience and nothing more.

...And yet somehow he couldnt quite get his mouth to form the word. He let a tilt of his head and a slight roll of his eyes suffice instead. "Look, I dont know much about what you two had or didnt have," she stated diplomatically, which was true. Even Rachel only knew highlights and the deepest darkest moments, and that was because he had been able to trust her about his secret back then. Mercedes had grown more accepting over time, and even if she didnt want nearly as many details as his roommate usually did...it did seem like a bigger deal to be able to talk to her about this than he had thought when the evening began. A couple decades had made all the difference in the world, it seemed. "But if you agreed to go, there has to be a reason - and not just because you like a good musical number. I know you want your life to be a Broadway show sometimes-"

"Most of the time," Kurt interjected dryly.

"-but things dont happen out of nowhere."

Kurt sighed- he would never see the world the way she did, full of platitudes about things happening for a reason thanks to some allegedly-benevolent, allegedly-omnipotent invisible man in the sky. He tried to avoid conversations about it as much as he could, if only because he wasnt sure he wanted to think about what her answer would be when he shot back with his first and most burning question: what reason could there be for his mother dying when he was little? Sure, plenty of good things in his life had happened since then, and he liked to think he appreciated them well enough - more than Rachel appreciated her good things, he was sure of that. But any god who stole a little boys favourite person in the world away from him wasnt a god Kurt had any interest in knowing.

For that matter, if he were to really get on that subject, there were plenty of other episodes he would have to ask about. He knew the reason hed been arrested so many times - because the police squads were full of homophobes who, at the time, had the bigoted law on their side. That wasnt a divine reason - it was a human one. He knew why Blaine had run away - because of fear, a human emotion, that drove a boys actions. That didnt mean he wasnt angry or hurt, though when he broke it down into emotional cause and effect that way it was harder to feel quite the same sting of betrayal.

"Sometimes they do," he replied with a shrug as he pulled another shirt out of his closet and held it up in front of the mirror. Nothing seemed right for an occasion such as this - maybe because he still wasnt sure what exactly this was. He didnt have a wardrobe plan for "coffee with the boy Ive been getting over for 20 years." Should he play it more like a clear sign that this was a platonic evening at best - something that no one in the world would consider a sexy ensemble - or more like when they had deliberately gone out in search of one of Rickys ex-flings, when his best friend had worn the tightest, showiest clothes he could get his hands on to show the moron what he was missing out on?

He wanted a jacket - he knew just the one, too, structured and cinched in a way that covered everything but sculpted his torso the way he wanted - but this wasnt New York in autumn. He might not know the best way to handle tonight, but he was sure heat stroke wouldnt be it. With a roll of his eyes he hung the shirt back up and pulled out his best-fitting pair of jeans. If he was going to project any kind of confidence, he should probably feel at least a little bit of it. Knowing he looked fantastic could only help. After all, Blaine could have had him. He should kick himself for that, right?

"Maybe closure will help you both," Mercedes offered gently. "Let him get everything he needs to off his chest, then you follow, and you can leave as lighter people."

"Its been almost twenty years-"

"And clearly that hasnt been enough for you to be over it because youre worried about what outfit to wear for him." He turned to say something, crossing his arms across his robe-covered chest, but before he could protest, she added, "Dont expect too much. Just...both of you let go what you need to let go of. And let me know how the coffee is because I havent found a place I like yet."

"I know - its been so long since I had to look for somewhere new...the place on the corner by the apartment has been there since a couple years after we moved in, it opened even before Lincoln Center did." He missed the place where his order was waiting for him at the counter before he even paid because they could see him coming through the plate glass windows, where it always smelled like rich cocoa and roasted coffee beans - and it tasted better. For how much attention they paid to that stuff out here, he didnt know why he didnt like it more. Maybe it was that the water didnt taste nearly as good as in New York. Either way, it was another little thing added to the list of stupid parts of Manhattan he missed.

"I remember," Mercedes nodded, laying back on the bed. "When I was still living there - before I got the first place up on 130th."

"Do you miss it there?" he asked as he grabbed a well-fitting button-down shirt and popped around the corner into the bathroom to get dressed.

"Not the way you do," she called.

"How do you-"

"Its home for you. Ive only been there off and on for awhile," she pointed out. There was a pause, then she added, "But Im glad youre out here with me. Its a lot more fun sharing all this craziness with you than it would be with anyone else."

"Im glad Im here," he replied sincerely - because even as he missed the coffee shop and the sound of the taxis and the tight vertical city, and even though right now a part of him wished hed stayed back home and not opened up this pandoras box of old romance...it was more interesting than another too-hot summer stinking of garbage on every street corner and taking the ferry to Fire Island every weekend.

Maybe there really was a reason hed come out here. Maybe a summer off from Manhattan, gaining new inspiration, would help him get a better job when he went back. And maybe this coffee date- evening he corrected himself - maybe this meeting would help him close the door on a painful part of his youth so he could move on.

Or at least he could try.

He pulled on his clothes and set to fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror as he heard Mercedes call, "...So how are you getting there?"

"The car the label gave us to use," he replied with a shrug.

There was a long pause, then a question he hadnt expected. "Whens the last time you drove?"

* * * * *

Blaine checked his watch and frowned. He was early - he hadnt meant to be, but sitting around the apartment was driving him crazy so he had started getting ready. Even changing shirts twice and spending more time than usual trying to get his hair to lay perfectly, he still stood in front of the coffee shop with more than twenty minutes to spare. He shifted from one foot to the other; at home he would have known somewhere to pop into to pass the time - a bookstore or a record shop or a cheeky novelty shop. Looking up and down the street he saw only eateries, nothing he could use for a diversion. And aside from the directions by bus to two nightclubs and a bar he had scribbled down on the back of an envelope and slipped into his pocket in case he wanted to do something later, he wasnt sure how to get anywhere from this part of town.

He may as well get settled inside, he supposed. Get something to drink, pick the perfect table so they could talk without being disturbed...

...figure out what in the world he was going to say...

It wasnt for lack of thought or effort that he didnt have anything planned. he had tried a thousand different apologies and explanations out in his head, but none of them seemed right. They were all too stiff or too much or just...pathetic-sounding. And even trying to come up with something made him feel- he wasnt sure how to put it into words, exactly, but young. Seventeen again and scared of everything and desperate for Kurts approval.

He was an adult now, Blaine reminded himself as he drew in a calming breath. A grown man with a career he loved and an apartment of his own and a string of ex-boyfriends. There was no reason he needed to feel like he had to be afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Under the worst case scenario, this would be an awkward evening and they would be too different and part ways and not try again - it wasnt exactly the end of the world. Considering until a few days ago he hadnt expected to even see Kurt ever again, it wasnt as though he had anything to lose from having a lousy date.

So why did the thought of not seeing Kurt again after tonight make his throat clench so tightly?

He drew in another breath and pulled open the door. he could do this - he just had to relax. Be himself - the self he was now.

Singing had been a much easier option...

He ordered himself a coffee and selected a table in the front corner - close to the window so he could easily see when Kurt arrived but far enough from the counter that they would be able to hear each other. Then he settled in to wait.

And wait.

The 15 minutes he sat before 7:00 were nothing compared to the 5 minutes he sat after 7. Let alone the 5 minutes after that.

Kurt wasnt coming. hed chickened out - or been too angry to sit across the table for an hour. This had been a horrible idea, a stupid, naive, self-indulgent attempt to recreate something hed thrown away half a lifetime ago. He should just go home and-

A slender brunet rushed past the front window and shoved open the door, eyes darting around. He looked harried and rushed, almost frantic, hair mussed just a little, and when their gaze met Kurt looked- oh thank god, he looked relieved. Blaine released his own sigh of relief at that; this hadnt been as dumb of an idea as he had feared. The man wove his way through the tables and set his bag on the chair across from Blaine.

"I was afraid I was too late and you might have left."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I just hadnt driven since I lived in a much flatter place." Blaine was about to ask what that had to do with anything, but he couldnt help but laugh at Kurts expression as he tried - and failed - to look too proud to be embarrassed. Twenty years and Kurt still held his head high to pretend nothing could make him sweat.

"Not many hills in New York?" he asked, barely covering a chuckle.

"Who drives in New York?" Kurt retorted dismissively. "So its been a little while."

Blaine smiled, glad for the topic to help put them a little at ease - the distraction from two decades of history was a welcome one. "Go get something to drink, Im not going anywhere."

Kurt nodded and smoothed the top of his bag for a moment, as though making sure Blaine saw it and asking whether it would be fine to leave it, then made his way to the counter. He let out a long sigh as he stared at the menu board; the adrenaline was beginning to subside now that he was here, leaving him anxious and with nothing to say. Why had he come, anyway? He had no idea what he was going to say once he sat down, coffee in hand. Mercedes had made it pretty clear that demanding an apology wouldnt go over well - and he had to admit, it was ruder than he would have liked, but if they werent here to talk about what Blaine had done wrong, then he really had no idea what they would talk about instead.

He ordered and paid, then glanced over his shoulder as he slipped the change into his pocket. Did Blaine look like he was about to apologize? (How did that look, exactly? Kurt wasnt sure but felt like he might know it if he saw it.)

...He looked nervous, anyway, Kurt concluded. And surprisingly good in that shade of green - it was lighter than he himself would have ever worn, but it didnt emphasize the yellowy olivey undertones of Blaines skin the way he would have expected. Maybe it was the lighting -

Analyzing the mans clothing wouldnt leave them with much more to talk about than his driving misadventure, but he couldnt help it. It was a nervous habit hed had for as long as he could remember, one that his choice of profession happened to encourage.

...The shirt hugged his biceps really nicely. It looked almost tight on his shoulders, which might not have been comfortable but did emphasize their width, and-

Kurt tore his gaze away and stared stonily forward at the space just to the left of the menu board. After a few minutes a ceramic mug was pressed into his palm, and he blinked down at the beverage, disappointed that it meant he needed to return to his table.

Let Blaine lead he reminded himself. Let him say what he came to say - hopefully with a strong Im sorry - and then take it from there.

Forcing a faint smile, he wove through the chairs with his brim-filled mug and slipped into his seat, nudging his bag to the floor. "There we go." He expected Blaine to fill the silence with something - small talk - but no sound came. He looked across the table and was met with an almost painfully nervous expression from his companion.

Great. It was going to be that kind of meeting.

"What did you get?" he pressed. If he were going to stay, he wasnt going to just sit across someone for an hour who seemed to have lost the power of speech.

"What? Oh - just coffee. Whats yours?"

"Cappuccino. Theres this amazing little bakery around the corner from home that makes the best Ive ever had - its run by this 800-year-old Italian man who personally learned from the man who invented them or something..." Kurt took a sip, thought a moment, and shrugged. "Not bad."

"Good," Blaine replied awkwardly, wearing a stiff grin, and then the silence was back. After a few long moments of fiddling with the rim of his cup, he finally offered a hesitant, "Thank you for coming. I really was worried you wouldnt show up."

"I almost didnt," Kurt admitted. Part of him wanted to explain why - to make sure Blaine was crystal clear about why he wasnt thrilled about this reunion, to be absolutely certain that Blaine didnt think years had numbed all the pain he had caused. But when it came time to say something, he wasnt sure how. Even in his own head it sounded pathetic and juvenile. What would he actually say? I almost didnt come after promising I would because I wanted to hold your apology for ransom? That wasnt exactly becoming on a man of his age. I thought about leaving you sitting here like you left me sitting on a couch half-naked when we were teenagers? Even putting his frustration into concrete thoughts made him feel petty beyond reason, and the thought of saying them out loud left him queasy.

Had he really not aged past 17 despite all his efforts? Was he really stuck as a child?

This had been exactly what Rachel had tried to warn him against, he realized suddenly. Not staying a teenager when he met Blaine - letting himself be an adult in a room with another adult instead of a hurt kid across from the scared little boy who had hurt him.

The man sitting across the table bore little resemblance to the boy he remembered. Physically he had aged well enough, Kurt supposed: his hair was still so firmly slicked it was practically plastic; he looked more muscular now, though Kurt guessed part of that might also be that he wasnt wearing a boxy navy blue blazer and ill-fitting grey wool-blend trousers. But his eyes were different in a way Kurt couldnt quite put his finger on. Engaged but focused rather than frantic. He hadnt realized he always pictured Blaine desperately looking around for trouble - it was a caricature, he supposed, but one that had stuck in his mind all these years even though it probably wasnt completely accurate. The man slouched a little more than the boy had, too, not enough to look sloppy but enough to seem relaxed in his own chair...in his own skin, really. He fidgeted slightly instead of simply sitting straighter-

Practically nothing he remembered of his first love remained, he realized slowly. Instead Kurt saw someone who, while clearly nervous, hadnt glanced around to see who could see them in public even once. He hadnt tried to hide his smile and relief at having a table mate, he wasnt-

Kurt didnt even have to look at Blaines hand; he wasnt married. He couldnt be; he wasnt scared anymore. Back then, even in the dark away from everyone who might ever know them, Blaine had still been afraid; every moment Kurt could remember between them, save a few brief seconds where, alone in Blaines dorm room, he could see the fear dissipate, the walls drop, and genuine love take its place. He had clung to those moments back then, used them to reassure himself that they could build a future together, that someday Blaine would let him in, would let himself be-

"You look good," he admitted quietly.

Blaines eyes widened just a bit in surprise, and he grinned - beamed, really. "Thanks. You look...amazing. New York agrees with you."

A voice in the back of his head retorted with It could have agreed with you, too, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, he didnt actually want to say it. Clearly whatever Blaine was doing did agree with him.

Part of him didnt want it to. Part of him wanted Blaine to have been as miserable as he had been for years, wanted just desserts from it; after so many years, he couldnt turn it off. But sitting across from a man who seemed to have himself relatively together, who wasnt in a miserable sham of a marriage, who wasnt trying to force himself to not be gay...in a way it felt impossible to reconcile the two together. The Blaine in his head, who had yanked him back and forth for a year before abandoning him without warning, wasnt even present in the Blaine he saw now; hating him and resenting his ease felt as illogical as automatically liking any man he met named Don simply because he was fond of one.

The way Blaine looked at him made him feel warm - and flattered. His eyes were intense, almost adoring, in a way Kurt hadnt seen in- he didnt even know how long anymore. At least not directed at him. Don looked at John that way sometimes...a lot of the time, actually. At first Kurt had always taken it as his cue to get out of the apartment as quickly as he could, figuring they needed to be alone, but over the years he had realized the look had virtually nothing to do with who was getting off and when. It was so much more than that. It was...everything.

He had two choices, he realized: he could stay angry and bitter and keep the high ground, walk away and never come back...or he could let himself revel in the way an attractive man - who was practically a stranger anyway - was looking at him over a cup of coffee.

When he put it like that, it was kind of hard to demand an apology.

"So, Blaine," Kurt began, sitting up a little straighter and crossing his legs at the knee as he set down his mug and dragged his finger slowly over the handle. "What do you do?"

Blaines eyes narrowed a little as he seemed to be trying to figure out what Kurt was getting at, and Kurt wasnt sure he understood the confusion. They had only said about ten words to one another, if he didnt count the song (which he was trying not to) since reuniting, and even if he could think of this Blaine as the same Blaine he had dated once, he didnt actually know anything about...well, what had become of either one of them. "What do you mean?"

"Do you work at the club full-time, or...?"

"Oh! No, I teach music."

That wasnt hard to picture, Kurt thought to himself with a faint smile. If there were one thing the guy had always loved, it had been a good song, and he was a natural-born leader. Even with a formal council, he had always been the one the Warblers looked to. "Around here?"

"No, in San Francisco. Im just down here for the summer."

Kurt almost choked on his drink. "You live in San Francisco?" After running away from plans to live in New York because there would be too many homosexuals around, he had moved to the single gayest city on the planet?

"Is that strange?" Blaine asked, confused.

...It was strange for the boy he had known, Kurt reminded himself, but not for anyone who was as open as the man across from him. Maybe the city was what had brought him into himself. Maybe hed moved to the closest teaching job after Stanford - that was close, right? He wasnt actually sure where the school was except somewhere very far from New York - and found men the same way he had in the Village. Or maybe hed moved there after a miserable marriage fell apart, because 17 years was plenty of time for a homosexual to marry and divorce again. Hell, seventeen years was plenty of time for a man to become a hippie and go back to having plastered down hair. However Blaine had gotten there, San Francisco had certainly done something good for him. "I guess not. It agrees with you," he replied, and Blaine smiled faintly at the use of his phrase repeated back.

"Not always," he replied cryptically, then added, "What about you? What do you do when youre not making gowns for Mercedes?"

"Make gowns for ballroom queens," Kurt replied, and when Blaine looked perplexed but like he wasnt sure how to ask the follow-up question, he supplied, "I was a designer at a painfully out-of-touch studio, but I quit to come do Mercedes wardrobe."

"And the ballroom queens...?"

"A hobby," he replied, but he couldnt help but grin at the thought of his band of friends back home. "Ricky got me into it - it helps to have a muse who can pull off practically everything and never says anything is too much. Arent there balls out here?" That was a thought too depressing for words. As much as he liked the occasional bar with Don and John or could enjoy a nightclub with the right dance partners, he hated to imagine a world without a place he and his best friend could be kings.

"I dont think so - I dont know, actually," Blaine replied, though he looked bothered by something. Kurt wasnt sure what and didnt know how to press for more, so he let it drop. "I havent been out around here very much."

"Me neither," Kurt admitted. "Its not exactly fun by yourself - just standing awkwardly by the wall, watching men strut around..."

"...and look at you like youre the last guy on earth theyd sleep with?" Blaine supplied knowingly, which made Kurt smile - even if he did wonder how the man sitting across from him couldnt get his fair share of men. He wasnt so fey after all.

"So youve met them too," Kurt replied.

"Its not like that in San Francisco. Home has its own problems, but at least theyre not all models, you know?"

"In New York a lot of them are," Kurt shrugged. "And chorus boys and professional dancers who can kick their legs in all sorts of places. I dont go out to cruise often anyway. Don and John do, they do very well for themselves. Id rather spend the night watching my creations walk the catwalk...and chasing after Ricky to keep him from stepping on his hems because if he ruins one more I swear - miniskirts from now on." Fuck he missed him - the whole group of them, but his best friend in particular. Maybe he could fly him out for a weekend. That way he could actually show Ricky everything he kept turning to point out to him when he wandered around town. If there were a ball scene out here, Ricky would find it - he had a gift for that, like a pig hunting truffles or Lana always picking out the one fellow homosexual in a restaurant full of identically-dressed businessmen.

And it would be nice to have a creative outlet where he knew his sequins wouldnt be sneered at. Working for Mercedes was much better than his old job, if only for the pleasure of her company, but without somewhere to let it all hang out at night it still didnt feel nearly like hed imagined.

He didnt want to let himself get dragged into the morose, especially since Blaine already looked a little confused and bored - or something else maybe, Kurt couldnt put his finger on what exactly - so he forced a smile and sat up taller. "Enough about that. What ages do you teach?"

From the way Blaines face lit up at the mention of his students, Kurt could tell it was definitely a positive part of the mans life.

And that the smile hed fallen for all those years ago still had an effect on him.

* * * * *

Kurt giggled as his hand fumbled with his key, jamming it against the outside of the lock twice before finally shoving it inside and twisting to open the door. Hed been trying to stop laughing since theyd left the bar, but it seemed like every time he managed something else would go mildly wrong and set them both off again.

Of course, getting the car stuck on each and every hill and turn in the city had been the sort of situation they could either curse or laugh at, and a certain point it was just so absurd that they had to find it funny. Especially when Blaine tried to suggest he could do better and promptly rolled them backwards down the hill because he let the clutch go too early.

He wished he could blame it on the drinks, but they hadnt had many at all. Hed only had two - not even, hed left his second drink unfinished on the bar as they left - and Blaine had barely finished one beer. He wasnt even sure how it had started; theyd left the coffee shop as it closed for the bar Blaine had gotten the name of from an old friend, and sometime during the first half of his first drink their easy chatter had turned into an emphatic send-up of movie heroines. By the time they got to Kurts description of how he would have made Carol Burnetts costumes even better - the curtain dress needed a valance. The hat was brilliant, but a valance would have made it perfect - Blaine had been unable to stop grinning and was practically leaning off his stool toward him, hand firmly on Kurts arm.

...it felt so nice that naturally he wanted to keep Blaine amused.

He had fully planned on taking Blaine back to wherever it was he was staying, but Blaine had suggested that they could keep talking awhile longer - and Kurts place had room service, which was an obvious plus.

They both knew it was an excuse, or at least Kurt assumed they did. Unless Blaine had lived under a rock in San Francisco, he knew that coming back to someones place to talk at the end of a good date meant exactly one thing. Hell, in New York it practically meant a serious relationship to go home together and not just to the baths.

(He just preferred something a little cleaner. Plus the room service tab.)

All night hed felt Blaine watching him - every time he moved, he leaned back, he took a long sip of his drink, he fixed his collar, the mans gaze bore into him as though he physically couldnt look away. And every time he glanced up to check if it was all in his imagination, the look on Blaines face was so enamored of him... Who wouldnt invite a man who looked at him like that up to his place? Even a stranger - especially a stranger, particularly someone so handsome.

..it helped that hed really missed that smile. But that wasnt why. It was because it had just been too damn long.

Blaine closed the door behind them and barely got out the words "So this is your-" before Kurt turned to kiss him hard. It took the man a few seconds to shake off the fog of being startled and respond, wrapping his arms around Kurts waist and pulling him closer.

Blaine kissed exactly like Kurt would have expected him to had they met for the first time tonight - eagerly, but more adoring than the pure primal need he was used to associating with non-boyfriend sex. He tried to decide if it felt different than he remembered, but he couldnt; he honestly wasnt sure what he remembered anymore. In fairness to them both, he decided to assume this was better if only because he liked to think his own technique had improved over 15 years, but-

The hand grasping his ass made him stop thinking much of anything.

He groaned as Blaine's hand pressed him closer, and the little pleased gasp coming from the shorter man was surprisingly both hot and adorable – and definitely encouraging. Reaching down, his fingers “unintentionally” grazed the front of Blaine's pants, eliciting a low moan, before they moved to cup the man's ass. Round, firm – it had been awhile since he'd seen a guy with a really great butt like this. In New York it seemed to be in vogue to just wear jeans that gave the illusion of one, but Blaine's fit perfectly in his hand, just right to squeeze-

Blaine tugged him closer still, and Kurt moaned against his lips at the friction. He shifted, resulting in a moan from his partner, who in turn rocked against him more deliberately.

Was he really doing this? Had his night gone so strangely – and was he actually so desperate – that he was dry-humping his exboyfriend against a hotel room door?

Not really his exboyfriend, Kurt reminded himself. A handsome first date who looked at him like he was the only guy in the room. That man he would absolutely dry-hump anywhere they pleased.

But a mattress would always be preferable to a door.

Kurt reached up to grasp Blaine's collar as he pulled back, and Blaine whimpered, lips trying to follow his as though he were that scared that letting go meant this was over. “C'mon,” he panted roughly, stepping backward to try to get out of the entryway and to the bed that he swore hadn't been this far away when he'd left earlier. It took his companion a second to catch on, but once he did he scampered after Kurt eagerly, grinning and toeing off his shoes clumsily along the way. Kurt followed suit, trying to shed what he could before horizontal positioning made it much more difficult. His right shoe came first, then his belt. He reluctantly released Blaine's collar so he could unfasten his buttons while he struggled to nudge off his left shoe, and he was glad to see the man's first response was to yank off his polo shirt and drape it automatically over the back of the chair. So many guys just pooled everything on the floor and didn't care if they looked like a rumpled mess in the morning, a homeless guy in expensive shoes; he liked Blaine's idea better.

…Speaking of things he liked about Blaine.

The shirt had been flattering on him, but it wasn't the sort of garment that could be considered false advertising – the man's naked torso was just as enticing. Hairier than Kurt had expected, but not otter-like – not otter anyway, he was too short; had they ever managed to come up with a good word for that body type, anyway? Bears were obvious, cubs, but after that things got a little murkier. Blaine definitely took at least decent care of himself; his stomach was trim enough for a man who was no longer 20, his shoulders and biceps clearly well-worked, veins prominent in a way that was more sexy than creepy (not like one guy he'd made out with once, some friend of an ex-stud of John, who had taken off his shirt and looked like he was covered in purple-blue spiderwebs or something).

He flicked open the bottom button and paused, feeling Blaine's eyes boring into him. He glanced up again and saw intense golden-brown admiration, and he had to admit it made him stand a little taller as he shrugged off his shirt.

“God, Kurt…” Blaine murmured, and Kurt felt like he shouldn't admit that he smirked as he preened, but he wasn't sure he could deny it. It didn't matter anyway; in seconds, his mouth was covered as Blaine practically tackled him onto the bed, kissing him hard and needily, like a man desperate for oxygen and trying to suck breath out of the first living thing he'd seen in days. Kurt groaned, letting his lips fall open as he arched beneath the man. He reached up to try to grasp Blaines hair but found a handful of slicked-down mess instead.

Maybe not everything had changed.

He tore himself away from that thought as quickly as he could. The last thing he needed to do was compare this to anything that had happened when they were kids, or hed start to wonder if hed end up naked and alone as Blaine bolted when things were over.

(Not likely, he assured himself. Blaine was way too into this and definitely knew what he was doing; this wasnt his first rodeo.)

He settled for cupping the back of Blaines neck instead, pulling his mouth toward him. His date tasted like strong, dark coffee with an undernote of peppermint - manly but clean. Not quite as nice as the pastry chef he had dated awhile who spent most of the day testing the flavour and texture of assorted sweets and chocolates so their end-of-the-day kisses always tasted like a confectionary, but a lot better than...well, any of the one-night-stands he could remember.

Blaines knee slipped between his, nudging his legs apart; Kurt spread them gladly and moaned as Blaine settled his weight between them, hardons pressed firmly against one another and shifting with every movement. With a faint smirk against Blaines lips, he wrapped his leg around Blaines and used the leverage to rock up against him, eliciting a gasp and a needy moan from the older man. He felt Blaines fingers at his waistband, then huffs of frustration as he tried to flick open the button only to find it wedged between layers of stiff denim. Kurt took advantage of the moment and reached down to lower Blaines zipper, slipping his hand inside. The erection inside was thicker than hed felt in quite awhile, and he groaned, practically drooling at the thought of it - even if he did wish hed thought to work himself over a little before the date. If hed had any idea how the night would end...

With a victorious "Ha!" (or maybe "Aha!", Kurt couldnt tell), Blaine flicked the button open and unzipped the front of Kurts jeans, wasting no time in trying to remove any extra layers of fabric between the two of them. Kurt sat up halfway and shimmied out of of his pants, letting the fabric pool between Blaines feet and the edge of the bed, not caring what they might look like in the morning. Denim would be fine anyway - and even if it wouldnt, he had more important things on his mind.

Reaching up and behind his head, Kurt fumbled blindly to find the nightstand and tug open the first drawer. He had to twist a little to reach the little jar of vaseline, but with a grunt of frustration and minor exertion, he retrieved it and set it on top of the nightstand.

"Vaseline? Really?" Blaine laughed, out of breath but grinning as he settled them back into position.

"What?"

"Does anyone still use that?"

"Its a little awkward keeping a tub of Crisco in a drawer someone else might wander into," Kurt pointed out. Mercedes wouldnt ask about a medical product; shortening would raise eyebrows at best, questions at worst, and he really didnt need to explain that part of gay sex to her if she didnt already know (which he assumed she didnt). Besides, he had a hard time using the same thing on himself that he did to make a nice flaky pie crust, and he would just as soon avoid the mental block if he could. "It does the job."

"Im glad to hear it..." Blaine replied. His hand crept lower again, cupping Kurts cock for a moment before sliding lower, index finger skimming along the space behind his balls and pressing gently at his entrance.

"Hang on," Kurt groaned as he rolled onto his stomach to give better access - it worked better than trying to reach through a tangled mess of limbs, he knew from experience; otherwise it seemed like someone was bound to get kneed in the face or the side or something unless they paid attention, and he couldnt guarantee that as badly as they both wanted. There was silence for a moment, sudden stillness, and he glanced over his shoulder to see what Blaine was doing.

He was just staring - gazing, really, admiring. After a long moment, he blinked and reached over to unscrew the lid and scoop the jelly onto his fingers. He rubbed them together as though checking the texture and slickness, then nodded and settled between Kurts legs.

They didnt let prep take very long; by the second finger, Kurt was ready to demand just get it in me already!, and he could tell from the increased moaning with each kiss Blaine planted on his back as well as the persistent erection bobbing against his thigh that Blaine couldnt wait much longer than he could. "Cmon," he groaned as he raised up on his knees and settled into position. "Lets-"

He had no idea what he was going to say to complete the sentence, and it didnt matter because the word fell from his lips in an incoherent groan anyway as Blaine pressed inside. The thickness was just this side of too much - Kurt had no idea how hed managed more in the past, and the idea of fisting seemed like a cruel joke instead of anything pleasurable no matter what other guys said. But fuck did it feel good, so many parts of him pressed against another person, inside and out. The way Blaine grasped his hip with one hand and wrapped the other around him to stroke in time with his thrusts was a nice touch; he didnt think he could remember another guy doing that, usually everyone was just out for their own pleasure at a time like this.

They lasted long enough to be good but not so long as to be bored - Kurt had known a guy once who could go forever, which had sounded fantastic but in reality meant a lot of repetitive thrusting before there was any payoff. He laid forward, turning onto his side and shifting to avoid the wet spot, and Blaine flopped down beside him a moment later panting and beaming. After a second to catch his breath, he leaned in and kissed Kurt long and slow, cupping his face, and Kurt couldnt help but think for a moment:

If things had been like this, if Blaine had been like this, it all could have been so different...

He could already feel sleep pulling at the edges of his mind - orgasms always knocked him out pretty quickly - and he was grateful. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he didnt have to think about anything.