"Why do I have a TMZ postcard in my hand, Blaine?" Kurt said, raising an eyebrow as he held the promotional mailer in his hand for his laptop's camera.

"Because it's not on the fridge yet?" Blaine said, with his patented "What, me worry?" smile.

Kurt had been perilously close to nodding off when he got the text from Blaine urging him to meet via Skype before he went to sleep.  Kurt moved his laptop from its usual desktop perch to the bed and rested the computer in his lap, propping himself up with pillows.

He logged in to find Blaine stretched out on the couch in a short-sleeve Henley and old faded jeans. He was eating an apple, occasionally using a finger to smear it with peanut butter.

"You're unbelievable," Kurt said, looking mildly skeptical. But he could only side-eye his boyfriend so much, really, for something as ridiculous as taking a celebrity tour of Hollywood run by the biggest and most successful gossip mongers in town. Truth be told, he'd do it himself. In a heartbeat.

A TMZ tour? Really? Strange, maybe, but hardly something to get worked up about.

But he was curious what prompted the odd choice of entertainment -- and who joined him on the tour.

"It's the last thing in the world I would have thought to do," Blaine said, methodically licking peanut butter from his index finger. "But it was fun. You would have loved it."

There was absolutely no way Kurt was going to confirm that.

"It was great, Kurt! We saw where Lindsey Lohan crashed her Mercedes ... the first time. And you're not going to believe who we saw."

"We?"

"Guess who we saw, Kurt."

"I can't even hazard a guess, Blaine. Who's 'we'?"

"Ellen, Kurt! We saw Ellen at a stop light."

"We?" Kurt repeated, working hard to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Friends from work. They booked a party bus tour Friday for the office. Sort of happy hour on wheels ... with celebrity gossip. You would have loved it."

Blaine went on to describe, in excruciating detail, the tour of Hollywood's seamier hot spots -- of bars and tattoo parlors frequented by celebrities. Of intersections where actors had been arrested for soliciting or where actresses had crashed their luxury cars under the haze of one-too-many cocktails at the Skybar. Of hotels where celebrities had been caught in extramarital trysts, or clubs that doubled as drug dens for the rich and famous. 

He recounted with joy the moment that their little open air bus got to witness a brawl between the costumed characters posing for pictures with Hollywood Boulevard tourists. A scrawny Spiderman and a ratty-looking creature that was apparently supposed to be Hollywood’s most famous mouse came to blows over sidewalk space. Blaine even caught the moment that the mouse removed its oversized head in order to land a better punch. “Battle of the cartoon titans,” Blaine said, fairly giddy over the event. 

Normally, this sort of story was right up Kurt's alley, exactly the sort of thing he'd want to hear every detail of, again and again. Blaine's monologue should have reminded Kurt of all the Sundays when they lingered on the couch, watching Access Hollywood or reading to each other from People magazine. It was their guilty pleasure, something they never shared with anyone but themselves, and there was little doubt that Blaine thought this would be fun for Kurt.

But no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that Blaine's allowed to have new friends, he couldn't get that nagging question out of his head: Who's 'we'?

"...But in all honesty, that side of town really isn't for me, Kurt. Hollywood Boulevard is nothing but tourist trinkets and tattoo parlors. And I have no interest in having my picture taken with a guy in a bad, smelly Sponge Bob costume," Blaine said.

West Hollywood was another matter. Wedged between Hollywood and Beverly Hills, the area was home to fine restaurants, fashionable shops and gay-friendly businesses. And Blaine liked it, apparently quite a lot.

Kurt had obviously heard about the neighborhood before, but he was surprised how enthusiastically Blaine responded to it. Blaine, the prep school dreamboat and a bit of a traditionalist at heart, was going on and on about the trendy community.

Kurt figured that Blaine must have discovered the Fred Segal store.

There was more to West Hollywood, Kurt knew. Some of the city's most fashionable restaurants had located there, along with art galleries and boutiques from top designers. It was also home to one of the nation's largest Pride parades. All of which were also available in New York City, Kurt reminded himself.

"It is to L.A. what Hell's Kitchen is to New York," Blaine said. "We're all going to go to The Abbey one of these nights."

"We, Blaine?"

xxxx

As Blaine went on and on, describing The Magic Castle and detailing the towering hillside homes and rolling panoramas, and frankly, Kurt lost track, because he was stuck on the part where Blaine mentioned going to The Abbey with friends.

We? Kurt wondered who the 'they' in 'we' was. Were they the same we from the TMZ Tour? And why were they taking Blaine to a gay bar? Correction. The gay bar. The Abbey's reputation as L.A.'s premier lounge for the LGBTQ community stretched well beyond the city’s limits.

He remembered all-too-well what happened the last time one of Blaine's new friends suggested visiting the local gay nightspot. That was in Kurt's senior year in high school, when Sebastian got them into that sad excuse for a club and tried to steal Blaine away by getting him drunk and monopolizing him on the dance floor.

Kurt never knew how close -- or whether he came close at all -- to losing his boyfriend to the predatory preppy, but the couple had their first real fight over it, and the aftertaste was bitter to this day.

And 'L.A.'s premier gay bar' sounded like trouble to Kurt. The city was going to have a more diverse, attractive and, Kurt suspected, aggressive community than Lima ever had. And he considered it more of a threat than even New York, where their social lives were so deeply intertwined that they revolved almost exclusively around each other.

'Sebastian' might very well be the norm in L.A., an Kurt would rather that Blaine not experience that alone.

"Guess where the owner's from, Kurt?" Blaine said with puppy-like enthusiasm. "Guess!"

"I haven't a clue, Blaine."

"Ohio!"

Kurt let out an audible sigh.

"So, tell me about your new friends."

"They're really just colleagues," Blaine said with little apparent thought.

Kurt grimaced.

"Colleagues who want to take you to The Abbey?"

Kurt immediately wished he'd used his internal voice on that one. He didn't want Blaine to think that he didn't trust him or, even worse in his eyes, was ...

"Kurt, are you a little jealous?" asked Blaine, a hint of a smile crossing his lips.

"No. Of course not. I'm just curious about the new people you're getting to know, and about the tour, and who you're visiting The Abbey with."

"I haven't visited with anyone. ... But I'd like to go ... with you," Blaine said, dipping his head slightly and dropping his voice.

"You know that's not possible."

"Why not, Kurt? You don't have classes right now. I know you've got your jobs, but everyone takes a little time off sometime. C'mon. Just a long weekend. The tour's super gossipy. You'd love it. And we could go to The Abbey, together.

"C'mon Kurt. You know how much I miss you."

"Doesn't sound like you have the time to be missing much."

"Kurt. I miss you," Blaine said, his voice now soft and low.  His voice dropped a notch further. "Let me show you how much."

Blaine pushed the laptop back on the table to take in more than just his shoulders and face. He looked straight into the webcam and then slowly peeled off his shirt, revealing a taught torso and a dusting of dark hair. "Let me show you, Kurt." 

Kurt's breath hitched. It wasn't like they hadn't enjoyed all the joys of Skype before, but those times had been scheduled Skype dates. Kurt was caught off guard by this development, not that he was objecting.

"Blaine?"

"Can you sit back further on the bed, Kurt? I want to see you," Blaine said, his hands already starting the slow trail south from his chest, stretching down his stomach, following the trail of hair to the waistband of his jeans. He shifted his hands almost imperceptibly so just the tips of his three middle fingers continued the trek along his fly.

Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Blaine's fingers traced his hardening cock. He stared directly into the webcam, his whiskey eyes darkening by the second.

"Kurt, this is how you touched me our first time together."

And then he closed his eyes and moaned. Lightly. Passionately. And, to Kurt's increasingly attentive senses, erotically.

From the monitor on Kurt's laptop, Blaine already looked like he was in a state of bliss. His head leaned back, his eyes hooded and his hands occupied. Ugh, his hands were clearly enjoying themselves.

Kurt moved the computer to the foot of the bed on the diagonal from where he lay, then shifted his body up the mattress and higher on to his pillows for support. He could already feel the flush overtaking his cheeks, his neck, his chest.

"Blaine, can you see me?" he asked softly.  Blaine lifted his headed slightly and acknowledged Kurt with an "Mmm."

Kurt always felt uneasy initiating Skype or phone sex. It just made him feel a little awkward to be the one to get it started. Blaine, thankfully, had no such inhibitions. In fact, he'd gotten a fairly substantial head start on Kurt.

"Blaine, your hands are my hands, OK?"

"Mmmm-kay." Blaine, distracted, responded.

"I want you to unbutton the top of your jeans for me." Blaine did as he was told, and preemptively slipped his hand below the waistband. "Hey, wait a second."

"Then hurry up, Kurt," Blaine said, sitting up a little and taking note of the monitor. "Strip for me."

Blaine's head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes never leaving his monitor, as he lightly touched himself.

Kurt took a breath, then reached under his t-shirt, letting his hand skim his belly and chest, pausing to play with a nipple, then the other, before lifting the shirt over his head. He could already feel an ache in his groin, and finally reached down to address the tenting of his pajamas.

"C'mon Kurt. Don't tease me. I want to see you," Blaine whispered betweens soft moans. "Want to see all of you."

Blaine was now palming himself in earnest, and Kurt couldn't wait any longer.

"Together, Blaine. Ditch the pants."

Blaine smiled a wicked smile, unzipped slowly and eased his jeans over his straining erection while Kurt mirrored the movement from his place on the bed. What he saw on the monitor brought him to an abrupt halt.

"Oh my god. You went commando today," Kurt said, his voice a mix of pleasure, wonder and fashion shock.

Blaine smiled to himself, then again directed his gaze straight into the webcam.

"Just tonight, for you," Blaine said, thumbing at the pre-cum beading at the head of his cock.

It was in that moment that it dawned on Kurt that Blaine Anderson had been a man with a plan. They may not have scheduled a Skype date for tonight, but that hasty text urging him on to his computer to chat for a few minutes was certainly about more than just catching up.

Kurt kicked his pajama pants away and rolled to his side, facing his camera. The sight of Blaine, naked and stroking himself on his couch, left him gasping. He didn't need to catch up any more.

Kurt reached down with both hands, rolling his balls with one and kneading the base of his cock with the other. He attempted slow, languid strokes, knowing that would make a better show for Blaine, but ultimately lost control. The pumping grew more fierce with each moan broadcast from his computer’s speakers.

Blaine looked wrecked, lost in the moment. He ran a hand through his already-disheveled head of curls and with his other hand pulled, twisted and caressed his erection. He clearly didn’t have much time, so Kurt took it upon himself to put him over the edge.

"Oh Blaine, miss you so much," he said, breathless. "Want you. Need you."

Kurt's breathy words of encouragement were all Blaine needed. With a brief, muffled shout, he spilled over his hand and stomach, the throbbing of his penis clearly visible over the HD Skype feed. Kurt said a little thank you for high speed Internet connections before he began to feel heat building in his own abdomen.

He pumped himself at an ever-increasing pace, knowing he had only moments left. A guttural moan built in his throat, and he looked up long enough to see Blaine, chest heaving and face flushed, staring at him. Kurt couldn’t hold back any longer, and felt an intensity in his release that left him just this side of stupid with pleasure.

"Blaine, Blaine. Oh ... fuck ....

“I love you. Love you so much.”

****

Blaine logged off Skype and smirked with self-congratulatory pride. Kurt Hummel may often  zig when Blaine expected him to zag, but on some matters, Kurt was utterly predictable. 

And one of those included soft, well-worn blue jeans and a lack of underwear.

He elicited exactly the response he was looking for. Not just the fact that they had just had one of their most intense Skype sessions ever -- and they had a few to choose from -- but because he thought he saw Kurt's walls begin to chip, just a little.

Soon he would engage in full-on romantic assault in order to get those barriers to buckle and cave.

Because Blaine Anderson was indeed a man with a plan, a plan that he knew had been brilliantly executed this evening.

He dipped into the jar for a last finger-full of peanut butter and headed to the shower.