Was it actually possible that there were no construction workers, or handymen who were actuallygoodat what they did? It wasn't possible that every single guy Blaine interviewed after the fiasco with Kurt Hummel seemed to belong to one of two groups: a) smug guys with no references who pretended to be an expert and wanted to charge Blaine an insane amount of money to likely screw everything up; or b) judgmental assholes that looked him up and down, and patronized him even worse than Kurt had. Blaine could feel a shiver crawling over him, wondering what would happen if those guys ever learned he was gay. It brought back too many memories of high school, years of dark memories he wasn't very eager to be reminded of.

He didn't give up searching, though, because there wasno wayhe was hiring Hummel.

Blaine looked down at his list. "So, one of the things I want to do is to knock that wall down to open..."

"Oh, no, that would be a terrible idea," said the latest man Blaine was showing around to get an estimate, shaking his head. "You'll ruin the carpet."

"Oh, but that's okay," Blaine said, smiling. "I want to remove that, too."

"Dude, no. You have no idea what you're doing," the man answered, with a condescending eye roll. Was his name Vic? Blaine couldn't remember after seeing so many others. He looked down at his list to see if he had written it down.

Blaine adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Well, no, technically, I don't. But I know the carpet can be removed and the wall has to go though..."

"You should really keep the carpet, dude..." he (yes, his name was Vic) insisted, around a yawn.

Blaine neatly crossed his name off his list.

"Oh, whoa, painting the wall that color would look so gay, man," the next guy said, laughing.

Blaine didn't react. He just crossed his name off his list, too.

"Yes, this definitely can be done," Blaine smiled as soon as those words were out of the man's mouth. He was a little older, maybe almost fifty, and had a heavy mustache. "But I'm going to need to hire at least three guys. It's a lot of work."

Blaine's face fell a little. "Three? I know it's a lot, but this is such a small place..."

"I can't do it with less than three," the man replied abruptly. He clapped his hands together, as if the discussion was over. "Now, let's go over the contract details. We'll be taking two meal breaks and a couple of coffee runs each day, and if you wanted to save yourself some time on the clock you could provide us with lunch and cold drinks and..."

Blaine sighed and stopped listening.

Typing away busily as he updated the book catalogue, Blaine reached for the cup of coffee he had put on his desk without moving his eyes off the screen, but his fingers didn't brush the ceramic mug, so he paused and looked to his left.

And found himself looking right into Josh's amused eyes.

"Hi."

Blaine smiled and hoped he wasn't blushing already. "Hey. How are you?"

"Well, I'm doing better now," Josh grinned and pushed the coffee a little closer to Blaine's hand so he could reach it. "What about you?"

"I'm good, thanks," Blaine said, as he took a sip of coffee, to stop himself from staring at Josh.

"I've heard you're opening a little business," Josh commented, leaning on the desk, apparently ready for a conversation.

"Yes, it's a book store," Blaine answered, putting the coffee back down.

"So I guess that's why you've been too busy to accept my invitation, huh?" Josh bit his lower lip, flirting so obviously that Blaine wasn't sure where to look.

He tried to act as normal as he could. "Well, yes, to be honest. I'm having a hard time finding people to make the changes I want. I didn't know it was going to be so hard to find good construction workers."

Josh chuckled. "Yeah, I know. I remodeled my apartment once and it was a nightmare."

Blaine nodded, sympathetically.

"I'm still hoping you will let me know when you're free, Blaine," Josh said, leaning just a bit closer, so Blaine could smell his heady scent. "I'm really looking forward to taking you out."

Blaine stared at him enthralled, his hormones shutting down his brain and barely managed to croak "right."

With a wink, Josh turned around and walked away. Blaine hurried to take another sip of coffee, since his throat seemed to be awfully dry for some reason.

It was almost completely dark in the future little book store, the only light coming from the lamp post in the street. Blaine finished gathering his things after spending yet another fruitless afternoon, interviewing possible contractors and then walked out, securing the front door with his key, still amazed that he owned this place. He was on his way to make one of his dreams come true.

Well, if he ever found someone to renovate the place for him, that was.

As Blaine drove home, he started thinking of the choices he had to make. He'd interviewed at least a dozen guys and every one of them had been wrong. He was seriously considering taking some handyman classes and learning to do the work himself, but that would set him back a whole extra year. But most of the guys he'd interviewed could have been characters from The Simpsons, so at this point he was pretty much ready to settle for anyone who came close to competent.

He entered his apartment, dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and stowed his satchel and jacket in the closet. It was very quiet, and as he walked towards the kitchen to see if there was anything he could make for dinner, he thought maybe it was time to get a cat. He could put a little bell around its neck so he could hear it as it moved from room to room, and then that constant feeling of aching loneliness would disappear. It would be nice having someone to cuddle with at night, too. And to have someone to tell about his day... even though he should like worry about his sanity if he started having conversations with a cat.

Sighing forlornly, Blaine opened the fridge. There was some left over spaghetti from the night before and, frankly, after the day he'd had, nothing beat instant gratification. He didn't even bother putting it in the microwave. He grabbed a fork and a bottle of water and went into the living room, where he dropped onto the couch, crossing his ankles under himself, and turned the TV on, finding an old Buckeyes game. He left it on there to fill the silence, as he reconsidered his options.

He closed his mouth around a forkful of spaghetti, and reached to turn on the computer on the coffee table. He ran the contractor search again, to double check that he hadn't missed any ads, rechecking every site he'd already checked. But he had already gone through all the possible options in the area.

Blaine looked at the date on the corner of the screen. The school year was ending in less than a week, and if he wanted to open the book store this summer, he needed to make an immediate decision. He was out of time.

He opened his email and went over the estimates he had saved from the few guys that had gotten far enough to send one. There were only four, and one of them had clearly thought Blaine was an idiot, who had no idea of much it should cost to do what he wanted to do, because the price he had sent him was enough to remodel the Buckingham Palace – twice. He deleted that one. He had the money, but he hated when people tried taking advantage of him like that.

One of the others was the guy with the crew of assistants. Blaine was almost leaning towards him, even if his demands seemed completely irrational. His estimate was outrageous since he would be paying three extra guys to stand aroung half the time.

The last two guys didn't sound good, either. One didn't do any electrical work, so he would need to hire an electrician first, and that could take a couple weeks more to find. And the last one... the last one was Hummel.

Blaine knew he was being obstinate when it came to Hummel. The only real problem he had with him was his snotty attitude. It was obvious the man knew what he was doing, and that he wasn't trying to gouge him. He'd been quite professional in that aspect, but the snarky remarks really, really bothered Blaine. He would be spending quite some time at the book store with whoever ended up working there to ensure the place turned out the way he wanted it to, and Blaine had a hard time dealing with any situation that made him uncomfortable. And there was no way things wouldn't be uncomfortable with Hummel around.

Blaine put the empty pasta bowl down and leaned back against the couch, trying to relax. Hummel seemed to be his only logical option. He was forced to chose between getting his dream under way and having to deal with someone's rude comments and repellent presence, or waiting for who knew how long until he found someone else.

And, honestly, Blaine had waited long enough in his life.

The next morning, Blaine was sitting at the library desk during the quieter hours before lunch and staring at his emails again. He had been trying to find some way around doing this since the night before. There was no easy solution, other than to tackle it head on.

He finally fished his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed the number, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and then drummed his fingers nervously on the desk as he waited for the call to connect.

"Hello," a bored voice said on the other said.

"Uhm, hi. Mr. Hummel?" Blaine said, his voice rising nervously, as he shifted awkwardly on his seat.

"The one and only. Who's this?"

"It's Blaine Anderson. We met last week? You sent me an estimate for my..."

"Oh, yeah, the book store. I remember," Kurt interrupted, and Blaine was sure he could hear a smirk on his voice. "I'd take a wild guess that you haven't given up on renovating that place yet, right?"

Blaine took a deep breath to boost his fortitude. He could do this. "I was wondering... if you still want the job, when you could start working."

There was a moment of dead silence as Kurt considered it. "I have to finish up on a job, but I'm pretty sure it'll be done by Wednesday, so let's say Thursday, just to be sure?"

"Thursday sounds fine," Blaine nodded. "Is 9 a.m. a good time for you?"

"Yeah, that's fine with me," Kurt answered impassively. There was no interest in his voice, no enthusiasm for a new job, not even a trace of gratitude. It made Blaine uneasy. Didn't he even want the job? "I guess I'll see you then."

It was too late to change his mind. Blaine needed to get on with opening his book store. "See you then."

Working the last few days of the school year were poignant for Blaine. He'd enjoyed working at Dalton, returning to where he had spent most of his teenage years as a student. Knowing that he might not be coming back after the summer break made him want to linger amongst the bookshelves, saying goodbye.

But another part of him, really, really hoped that he would end up quitting his job as Dalton's librarian, because that meant he'd made his life-long dream a successful reality.

And Blaine could really use more success in his life.

When Blaine arrived to the bookshop on Thursday morning, Kurt was actually already there, leaning against his pick-up truck. He was wearing tight jeans and combat boots and that damn toolbelt again. His body-hugging V-neck t-shirt was white, and for a dazed moment Blaine forgot exactly why he hadn't liked Kurt when he first met him.

And then Kurt opened his mouth.

"You're still sure you want to spend all this money to open a book store here? Most people in this town wouldn't know a book if it hit them between the eyes."

Blaine fished the keys out of his pocket to open the door, focusing on trying to keep the irritation off his face. He was going to have to tolerate Kurt's attitude, and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to keep their interaction as professional as possible and not respond to his jibes, and maybe Kurt would give up making those comments.

"The plan hasn't changed," Blaine answered politely. He made a gesture to invite Kurt in and watched him as he grabbed a tool box from the back of his truck before following him. "You said you'd start with the electrical repairs first, right?"

"Yup," Kurt muttered, putting his stuff down on the floor before going back outside to grab a ladder. "I'm gonna have to break down more of the ceiling to get at that mess, but since it's already pretty damaged..."

"Sure, if you have to," Blaine nodded. He put his satchel down on the armchair close to the window. He watched as Kurt began setting up his tools so he could start working. "Uhm. I think I'm gonna go to the coffee place down the street to grab a coffee and I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Kurt replied absently, obviously not giving a damn about what Blaine did. He positioned the ladder under a gap in the ceiling and climbed the first couple of steps, stretching to test its strength. His white t-shirt rode up a few inches, revealing the pale, firm skin below...

"Right!" Blaine said a little loudly, realizing he was staring. He grabbed his wallet, suddenly feeling very flustered. "I'll be back in a minute!"

Kurt didn't even spare a glance his way, letting Blaine go without a word.

Blaine had to wait in line to order coffee, and while he stood there staring blankly at the list of menu choices, he wondered how he was going to manage to deal with Kurt being around for however many weeks (please, please don't let it bemonths) it would take him to finish everything.

He considered staying away as much as possible when Kurt was working and only occasionally showing up to check on his progress, but he would have to be around to make decisions if any problems appeared. But Blaine had been so ridiculously excited about seeing his book store rise from the ashes: he really wanted to see it become what he had always dreamed of, step by step.

Blaine guessed he didn't have another option but to try to establish a friendly – a formally distant, completely professional – relationship with the man working for him. And the best way to begin that new relationship, he thought, would be with a cup of coffee.

Because who didn't like to move past any sort of awkwardness with a nice, warm cup of coffee?

"Hi, welcome to the Lima Bean. What can I get for you?" The girl behind the counter said with a smile when he made it to the front of the line.

He had no idea what Kurt could like, so he went with something simple, which happened to also be his usual order. "Two Medium Drips, please."

Blaine paid for the coffees and then moved to the end of the counter to wait for his order to be ready. Yes, this was an excellent way to start.

Kurt stared down at the coffee Blaine was offering to him as if he had never seen one before.

"What's this?" He asked gruffly.

"Uhm. Coffee," Blaine answered, shifting on his feet uncomfortably when the other man didn't take the cup, which was currently scalding his hand. "I got you a medium drip. I didn't know what you liked, so I got you the same thing I always get..."

"Why?" Kurt still didn't accept the proffered cup and Blaine was very, very close to just throwing it into the trash can and forgetting about making a peace offering.

"I don't know? Because I thought it'd be a nice thing to do? Do I really need a reason?" Blaine frowned crossly.

Kurt muttered under his breath, rolled his eyes in what seemed to be an equally terrible mood and practically ripped the coffee out of Blaine's hand without as much as a thank you.

Blaine looked at him in wide-eyed astonishment, for a few seconds, at his unexpectedly boorish response.

Kurt peeled back the plastic top and took a long swig of his coffee. Blaine watched him drink the scalding hot drink and winced. It must have burnt Kurt's throat the whole way down...

"I have to go to the hardware store for supplies," Kurt said then.

Blaine blinked. "Okay..."

"It's just a few streets away from here, I should be back soon, if I can find what I need," Kurt informed him tersely. He drank the rest of his coffee and Blaine did not, he didnotwatch every muscle as Kurt's throat worked to swallow it. Kurt put the now empty cup down and turned on the heels of his heavy boots.

He was gone before Blaine had processed exactly what had just happened.

At first, Blaine thought that things would get easier as days passed, and they got used to each other. He'd hoped that Kurt wouldn't be so... edgy, all the time (and that didn't even begin describing how Kurt acted around him), but he had been wrong. He had been very, very wrong.

Blaine decided he would focus on sorting the things that still remained in the back room once the electricity was back on, deciding which items he would keep and which he would donate. He would need the backroom empty soon, to store the books and the new furniture he'd started ordering.

Kurt managed to get the electricity reconnected by the second day, working late into the first evening. Blaine almost clapped his hands in excitement. It had been quite uncomfortable, pretending to look busy by working on one of his many lists. He was grateful that the hollow silence of the empty store could at least be filled with him moving stuff around, and Kurt working with those big tools he was using.

Blaine had to admit that the heavy tools made his arms look amazing in those fitting t-shirts...

Shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts, Blaine walked into the backroom. Now that he had some better light, he realized just how much stuff had been dumped in that room. It would take days for him to go through everything...

He smiled to himself, pratically in delight.

"You sure have a lot of garbage back here..."

Blaine turned to find Kurt leaning against the doorway, his eyes (they were almost green today) taking everything in, clearly unimpressed.

"Some things could be recycled. Others can be reused or repurposed," Blaine countered, trying to stay optimistic.

"That's what people are going to say when they come in here to buy books and use them to light fires next winter," Kurt snorted sarcastically. "Actually, if you open before the fourth of july, you can take advantage of all the barbeques that need to be lit up."

Blaine gritted his teeth. "Don't you have tools you need to be using?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but went back to work. Blaine took a deep breath and held back his temper.

It was worth it, he needed to constantly remind himself of that. Getting the store ready to open was worth having to put up with Kurt Hummel.

The tension made the days feel endless. Blaine wasn't enjoying seeing his book store take shape as much as he had thought he would, and it was all Kurt's fault, with his nasty attitude and snarky comments.

Mostly, they maintained a bitter silence, both focusing on what they were doing to avoid each other as much as possible. Kurt always left for an hour at noon, presumably to grab some lunch, and Blaine stayed, enjoying having the peaceful place to himself and eating a sandwich he bought at the Lima Bean with his customary cup of coffee. Lunch was his favorite time of the day.

He had already sorted through half of the contents of the backroom. He'd found a few nice things he wanted to keep, but many were going to charity. Others, even if it pained him to agree with Kurt, were nothing but garbage. He was piling them on a corner of the room to get rid of those some other time.

Kurt had finished with everything related to the electrical system and was now working on the ceiling. Blaine resolved to stay away from him, in the backroom, minding his own business.

Until he heard a loud noise and an equally loud "fuck!"

Blaine rushed into the main room to find Kurt had descended from the ladder and was staring at a piece of the ceiling that had fallen down.

"What happened?" Blaine asked, surprised.

"This shit was weaker than I expected and it just plummeted to the floor..." Kurt explained and when he looked up, Blaine inhaled sharply.

"You're bleeding," he muttered, immediately approaching Kurt to staunch it. Kurt frowned and touched his face, and came away with blood-stained fingers. There was a cut just above one of his eyebrows, dripping blood down the side of his face. "Here, let me help you..."

"It's nothing," Kurt huffed. "It doesn't even hurt..."

"You're bleeding everywhere," Blaine insisted, fuiding him to the armchair, pushing him down gently so he would sit. "Maybe I should drive you to the hospital to make sure you don't need stitches..."

"Don't be so dramatic, Anderson," Kurt rolled his eyes and tried to hide a wince. "Told you, it doesn't even hurt."

"Sure it doesn't," Blaine said, with an eye-roll of his own. "Just let me take a look at it, alright?"

Kurt was obviously annoyed by the attention, but Blaine ignored him. He put a gentle hand on his forehead to tilt his head back so the light would fall on his face. He instructed Kurt to stay like that while he rummaged into his satchel to find a clean tissue and quickly dabbed at the cut to see how deep it was.

"It doesn't look very bad to me," he said after a few seconds, leaning closer to see if it was still bleeding. "It could've been a lot worse, with a piece of ceiling falling on you..."

"I jumped back just in time," Kurt answered, and Blaine was suddenly awfully aware of how close they were when Kurt's breath warmed his neck as he spoke. "I'm sure it's just a scratch."

Blaine pulled away, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses. "Uhm. You should wash it and cover it with a band-aid or something. You don't want to have to deal with an unnecessary infection or anything..."

"Right," Kurt stood up. "Well, I have a first-aid kit in my truck. So I'll go get it."

"Yes." Blaine turned to return to the backroom. "That sounds like a good idea."

"You should get some fresh air or eat something. You look so pale," Kurt commented, as he walked towards the exit. "If you faint, I'm not staying extra hours to take you to the hospital."

Blaine forced a chuckle and then waited for his heart to go back to its normal pace.

Kurt Hummel was an asshole. An attractive one, but still an asshole, and Blaine needed to remember that.

If Blaine thought that showing concern for Kurt when he got injured during work was going to change things, he was so, so wrong.

Kurt only got more rude and obnoxious as days kept passed. Fixing the ceiling was taking a lot more time than either of them had expected, the loose plaster frustrating both of them, and Blaine was starting to think he would never get rid of the moody man he had hired.

If he had to do it again, he might not have chosen to put himself through this nightmare.

So he contemplated suggesting something that might possibly help them move forward and make things quicker.

"I was thinking..." Blaine said slowly from his place on the armchair were he was scanning through a lightning catalogue, pondering what kind of lamps he wanted to buy for the ceiling once it was completely done. "Maybe you could hire an assistant, so you could work faster, since you would be dividing the work between two people..."

Kurt turned to him so abruptly that Blaine was surprised his neck didn't crack, his eyes narrowed at him.

"You know, it would make things much easier for you. I would pay him, of course, you wouldn't have to. And I'm sure you probably have other jobs waiting..." Blaine continued, though the way Kurt was looking at him made him even more uncomfortable than usual.

"I work alone," Kurt cut in a sharp, cold voice.

"Oh," Blaine muttered, not knowing what else to say. "O-okay. I just thought I'd ask."

"If you don't like the way I work, Anderson, you can just fire me and hire someone else," Kurt walked towards him, looking more menacing the closer he got. "But don't try to tell me how to do my job."

"Never mind," Blaine tried to reassure him. "It was just a suggestion."

"Well, I don't need your suggestions, and I sure as hell don't need a stupid assistant to get in my way. You do that just fine on your own," Kurt replied and he really seemed angry.

Blaine didn't say anything. He just stared up at Kurt with his eyes as big as saucers.

"Do you have any othersuggestionsor I can go back to doing what you're paying me to do?" Kurt said, and there was a kind of fire in his eyes that Blaine had never seen in them before.

"N-no. No more suggestions," he muttered awkwardly.

A brief silence fell over them like an icy layer of snow covering the fresh, green grass left behind by months of spring.

"Good," Kurt's tone was harsh, distant.

Blaine wondered exactly what he had done wrong and if his silly idea would end up making things even worse.