CHAPTER SIX

February: Rome

Kurt needed a vacation.

He was sick of work. It was their busiest time of the year, working on the 'big' February issue i.e. The Valentine's Day Issue which was so important it needed its own capitalised title. He may be the boss of the department, but that meant he didn't have to like it when strings of pink paper hearts lined the walls of the Vogue offices and he was suddenly required to find two very specific shades of red - red, not crimson or mauve or berry or wine, red - which matched exactly to the skin tone of a particular model.

He hated Valentine's Day.

It was a complete nightmare. Ever since his awkward high school days, he'd loathed the annual holiday where loved-up couples paraded their relationship in front of everyone, played tonsil hockey in the corridors and left each other disgustingly adorable gifts and trinkets in their lockers. He loathed the tacky decorations and fat little cupids that swung from every available surface. He loathed the commercialism of the whole thing, an excuse to buy cheap candy and even cheaper flowers and use it profess your love to that 'special someone' who, quite frankly, should already know you love them without having to resort to embarrassing displays of affection.

In short, he really needed a break. Alone. Preferably somewhere far, far away from any part of the continental United States of America.

Somewhere where he couldn't be lead to thinking about Blaine, and the voicemail message, and everything that went with those two things.

Which is why he slightly surprised himself when he opened one of the glossy travel catalogues he'd picked up at the travel agents' and chose Rome as his destination of choice.

Rome. The most romantic city in the world, he thought ironically to himself. Is the universe conspiring against me? But he decided that he might as well take a trip. At least no one would bother him if he was alone. Well, he hoped they wouldn't.

So, it was to Rome that he was headed. Without thinking twice, he booked his flight and accommodation one tedious morning at work when he should have been pursuing Theresa, one of the dressmakers, in her attempt to locate enough red fabric to create the dress for the covershoot.

He was due to depart in three days' time on February 12th, two days before Valentine's Day.

What have I got to lose? He thought. I need a break from here or I'll go mad. I think I already have. Is there a scale for measuring madness? If there was, I'd break it.

Sipping his coffee in a small café a couple of streets away from his office, Kurt tried not to think of anything at all. His father had always told him he was an over-thinker, a worrier, always over-analysing things, and so he tried to empty his mind of all thoughts entirely. He thought of nothing except the bitter-sweet taste of his nonfat mocha and the rush of the mid-morning crowd passing through the café. He watched the baristas to-ing and fro-ing between the enormous silver coffee machines and espresso makers, hot chocolate machines and tea machines. Kurt watched a large cloud of steam puffing from the espresso maker rise up into the air over the heads of the baristas.

It was oddly calming, soothing to watch the rhythm of activity that he hadn't really noticed before, busy as he was pushing through the crowds to get his morning coffee order done before he killed someone in his pre-caffeine state. It was interesting what you picked up when you really started paying attention.

For example, Kurt noticed a blonde woman in the corner with two young children who were sitting up at the table sipping juice out of sippy cups whilst he nursed what was probably a double espresso with extra shots, if her tired eyes were anything to go by. He noticed a red-haired man and another younger boy, maybe around fifteen or sixteen, still in a soccer jersey, queuing at the counter. A father who had just picked his son up from practice? A divorced husband doing his parental duty?

It was hard to tell from this angle and Kurt realised in that few seconds that the world was filled with endless possibilities. It could be one thing, but it could also be another.

The woman with dark hair scraped back into a bun could be a lawyer or a ballet teacher. The little girl with wet hair holding her older sister's hand could have been caught in the rain or just finished practice at the swim club for kids. The elderly man with silvery gray hair by the window could be waiting for his equally aged wife to join him, or else sitting there alone because she had recently passed away and this had been their favourite haunt.

The man who had kissed another on an airplane and then proceeded to ignore him, leaving only an emotional voicemail message on his cellphone, could be playing a cruel game or else too shy to admit his true feelings, so he settled for saying nothing.

But of course, that was a completely hypothetical situation.

If he hadn't been confused before, he certainly was now. At least, part of him was. The other part of him was certain that he had made a mistake and that this was all just a big misunderstanding, that things would right themselves, that Blaine would explain his behaviour (not through voicemail this time) and all would be right again.

But Kurt was also realistic and he knew that that's the way it happened in movies, and only in movies. Magical righting of wrongs just didn't happen in real life. These things took time, a lot of pain and a lot of effort to resolve.

He knew that. Of course he knew that. He was no stranger to pain nor to effort. So why did he feel like things were moving too slowly? That something should have been done by now to sort out this mess? Because that's what it was, a complete and utter mess.

Kurt hadn't returned Blaine's call. Or rather, his voicemail message. He'd been too afraid to, too unsure of what to say. What can I say? He thought. This is difficult enough as it is. And in any case, what if he doesn't want to talk to me? What if that voicemail message was the last time he was contacting me?

Then, Kurt thought, then I've just got my hopes up only to be let down yet again. I thought I would be used to disappointment by now, but I guess not.

Feeling more than a little depressed, he drained his coffee and dumped his cup in the trash on the way out, figuring that he might as well head back to work even though he still had half an hour lunch break left.

Kurt thought that the best way of avoiding thinking about Blaine was to keep himself busy. He spent the remainder of his lunch break researching places to visit and things to see and do in Rome that didn't require a relationship status that wasn't 'single' and carefully wrote a list of everything that caught his eye. The Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum were both high on the list, as long as he negotiated the wish-making couples at the former, as well as several visitor-recommended restaurants where he could eat without having Love with a capital L dangled right in front of his eyes.

There were also several churches and cathedrals as well as the Vatican city, but he didn't think he would be welcome in those. He put it on the list anyway just in case.

By the time he had finished, the list had six items on it. He was staying for a week so that equalled to one place a day, not counting the restaurants. He supposed it would be enough. And if I get bored, I'll just find one of those little ice cream places and eat to my heart's content. I've always wanted to try gellato..

**********************************************************************

Informing his boss and family of his impending vacation was not easy. He once again faced the Third Degree from his father ("What are you going to Italy for in the middle of February? Why are you going alone?") and awkward questions from his colleagues about why he was taking a vacation in the middle of the 'V-Day issue' as it had been dubbed. Kurt threw them an excuse about work stress and ignored the rest of their questions.

Eventually, they just accepted that Kurt was going abroad for a week and wouldn't be available to sort out any fashion crises that happened to come up. I've done enough for them over the last three years. They can manage without me for a week. They'll have to.

Kurt also had to tell Rachel so that she could keep an eye on his apartment for the week whilst he was away. He wasn't looking forward to it. If he thought his parents were nosy, then Rachel was an entirely different kettle of fish altogether. She didn't understand terms such as 'privacy' and 'discretion'; Kurt wasn't sure that they were even in her vocabulary.

He decided to wait until a few days before he was due to leave. He had already informed his landlord of his absence, who had been rather nice about it and told him to have a good time on vacation. The smaller the dosage of Rachel Berry Crazy, the better. Especially a Rachel Berry in the middle of wedding plans, when the crazy had been multiplied by about a hundred. Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that Jesse wasn't exactly calming her down, either. They were as bad as each other.

Eventually it was two days before Kurt flew to Rome and he was making the final preparations. He had added a few places to his Must-Visit List including a museum or two in case he got bored, and made a mental note to buy a postcard to send to his father whilst he was there.

On the Friday night, he called Rachel to let her know he would be away and that his apartment would need seeing to. Most notably, his recently-acquired cactus plant would need attending to. He liked the prickly plants because of their sturdiness and endurance, and the way they warned off predators with their long, thin spines.

"Kurt! I don't think you've ever called me so often." Rachel commented when she picked up the phone. Her voice took on a concerned edge. "There isn't anything wrong, is there?"

No, except the fact that I'm using avoidance behaviours to deny my feelings for a man who doesn't realise how great he really is, Kurt thought. But of course he couldn't say that to her.

"No." he said. "I just wanted to ask you to keep an eye on my apartment while I'm on vacation, if you can find time between all your other commitments." Okay, so maybe that last part was a little sarcastic.

"Oooooh! You're going on vacation? Where? When?" Rachel asked, a little breathlessly.

"I'm going to Rome in two days." Kurt replied.

"Two days!" she shrieked. "You could have given me a warning!"

"This is your warning." Kurt said exasperatedly. "I'm telling you now."

A pause.

"Wait....you're not going alone, are you? Rachel asked tentatively.

"Yes. Why?"

"But.....Kurt, it's Valentine's Day next week." she said.

"Well spotted, Rachel." Kurt sighed.

"You can't go to Rome, alone, on Valentine's Day. That's just....well, it's just sad." Rachel replied. Oh God, he thought. Here she goes again, pitying me. Exactly what I didn't want.

"I won't be going alone." Kurt said. "I'll be going with about fifty other passengers. Maybe even more."

"You know what I mean, Kurt." Rachel said, rather scathingly.

"Rachel, you don't have to worry about me. You sound like my dad."

"But Kurt, I am worried about you." she confessed. "You haven't dated anyone in such a long time."

"I don't want to date." Kurt lied. Correction; I don't want to date unless it's a specific person who I will not mention.

"Sure." A pause. "You know I only want what's best for you, right?"

"Yeah." Kurt said. "I do."

*******************************************************************************************

There was exactly one hour till his flight boarded and Kurt had already seen no less than seventeen couples of various ages. Young couples, elderly couples, very, very old couples, and middle-aged couples. He felt his heart sink as he watched them. This was precisely what he had been trying to avoid. He sat up a little straighter in his seat and tried to ignore them.

To pass the time, he devised a one-man game of hangman on a spare scrap of paper he found in his pocket, but got frustrated when the only words he could think of were love, valentine and heart.

I swear, if it's like this all week I'm getting a flight home.

He rubbed his hand over his face, suddenly feeling tired. He only hoped his vacation wouldn't go to waste; he had so been looking forward to it. Leaving the office behind and getting on a plane for something that wasn't work-related was liberating. He had a week, right? A lot could happen in that space of time.

He looked up, surveying the vast boarding lounge, and immediately did a double take.

It couldn't be. I'm seeing things, Kurt told himself. I'm just seeing things. Shaking his head to stop himself from dwelling on it, he leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs, narrowly avoiding kicking a passing toddler in the shine. He apologised profusely, red-faced, to its disgruntled mother.

The more he waited, the more he allowed himself to get excited about his vacation. It would be different; it would be a welcome refreshment. He would not think about anything negative. Nothing negative at all. This vacation was about him and it would stay that way, if Kurt had anything to say about it. Which he did. A lot.

Eventually, the time to board arrived and it was with renewed vigour that Kurt got up from his seat and gathered his belongings, fishing out his passport and boarding ticket to present at the gate.

He was through the boarding gate and in his seat within a few minutes, the cool air of the built-in air conditioning blowing pleasantly on his face. It would bring relief once the plane filled up and became inevitably stuffy and warm.

Once Kurt was settled and his seatbelt fastened, he did what he usually did on planes; he fell asleep.

*********************************************************

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now descending into Rome. Please ensure that your seatbelt is securely fastened until the plane has come to a complete stop."

"Signore e signori, stiamo scendendo a Roma. Assicurarsi che la cintura di sicurezza sia saldamente fissato fino al piano è venuto ad una fermata completa."

He awoke from a dream in which he was lying in bed, naked, with an unnamed stranger just as the plane clattered to a stop at Leonardo de Vinci International Airport. The face of the man in his dream had been incredibly familiar, but he couldn't place the slopes and curves of his face in his mind. He had smelled of coffee and clean wool and optimism, if optimism even had a smell.

Kurt had felt at peace, content, in his dream. He hadn't felt lonely.

He groggily rubbed his eyes and manoeuvred himself along the aisle to disembark, pulling his bag out from under his feet as he did so.

The wall of heat hit him as soon as he stepped off the plane into the Italian late-winter sun. It was unseasonably warm and Kurt regretted not having the foresight to wear a short-sleeved shirt; the long-sleeved one he was currently wearing was making him sweat a little in the sun's rays. He would change as soon as he reached his hotel.

He was a few hours in the airport, collecting the one piece of luggage he had brought with him and going through Italian customs and Passport Control. But instead of being annoyed and irritated with the typically long queues, he felt....good. It gave him a buzz to know that he was here for himself, and not out of commitment to anything (or anyone) else. It felt really, really good.

He let the sun warm his face and neck as he stepped into a cab outside the airport and directed the driver to his hotel in very poor Italian. Well, French has always been my better language. The driver must have understood his instructions, however, because soon they were speeding towards the heart of Rome, the winter sun climbing higher and higher in the sky.

The busy streets were crammed with people. Some were on bikes, some were walking with armfuls of groceries, others calling to each other from their car windows and shop doors. There were cafés everywhere with adorable little tables and chairs standing outside on the pavement. The smell of strong coffee reached Kurt's nostrils through the ventilation of the cab. Call it cliché, but it was like a scene from a movie. He knew he'd made the right decision to come.

He felt his anxiety slip away as the centre of the city came into view. There was something inherently calming about the sand-coloured buildings and buzz of activity. I definitely made the right decision. I deserve this. I do deserve this. Fuck the office, this is about me.

Upon reaching his hotel, a finely-dressed porter with a thick moustache opened the door of the cab and brought his luggage out of the trunk. He was beckoned into a cool white lobby with shining chrome furniture and several padded armchairs grouped around an enormous TV mounted on the wall, showing a soccer game.

It was definitely one of the best hotels he had been in for quite some time, if not the best, except for a to-die-for establishment in Athens that he had stayed in for one of his very first assignments at work. That one had had marble floors and, rather ironically, Egyptian cotton sheets.

This was heaven.

After checking in and receiving his room key - a little white card edged in silver - he stepped into the elevator which took him to the fourth floor, where he found his room at the end of the corridor.

Walking in felt like stepping backwards in time, but in a good way. It was just as well-decorated as the lobby. Kurt knew interior design well; he had redesigned his bedroom himself and later remodelled the living room as a five-year anniversary gift to his dad and Carole. He silently applauded whoever had designed the rooms for the hotel. In contrast to the lobby, which had been sleek and modern, the room was more old-fashioned in a way that was not off-putting, but endearing. The walls were the same colour of sand as the buildings outside and the enormous bed had a cast-iron headboard and footboard.

He liked it. He was surprised by this; it wasn't a style he would have personally chosen. But he liked it.

Kurt put down his suitcase and flopped down onto the bed, sighing in contentment as his body sagged into the soft, bouncy mattress. He felt like a kid again, giddy with freedom and the opportunity to do whatever he wanted. Kurt didn't even care that it was Valentine's Day anymore; it was all about him, and he loved it.

Maybe this was how Rachel felt all the time just being, well.....Rachel. Plus there was Jesse, who pretty much encouraged her to do everything and anything she could to live her own life on her own terms. Kurt didn't have that kind of push, so the feeling was completely new, and he would milk it for all it was worth.

Bringing himself out of his reverie, he got up from the bed and pulled a spare change of clothes out of his suitcase, meaning to shower and dress in a fresh outfit, but a noise from outside drew him towards the balcony. The tinkle of laughter drifted in through half-open French doors (Ironic, Kurt thought) and he crossed over to them, pushing them open fully and letting the warm afternoon air blow in.

The hotel opened out onto a small, pretty square, a piazza, Kurt remembered, with a decent-sized fountain in the centre. There were two people chatting near it, two men. Kurt couldn't see their faces, only the backs of their heads, but their voices floated up to the balcony where Kurt was standing.

"I'm telling you, squirt, it's all happening for me." one man said, a clear edge of pride in his voice.

"I thought I told you not to call me that, about a hundred times." the other man replied, annoyed.

"Oh, come on now. Don't be like that. I came here especially to see you. The least you can do is give me a warm welcome." the first man said. Kurt suspected an uneasy relationship between the two men.

A sigh came from the second man. "You're right, I'm sorry.....I've got a lot on my mind, that's all. I came here to get away from stuff at home and I'm just dragging it here with me."

"Don't worry about it, squirt." the first man reassured, playfully nudging the other in the shoulder.

"Cooper!" the second man protested, and Kurt's breath caught in his throat.

Cooper.

As in Blaine's brother, Cooper?

Kurt blinked several times and leaned a little more over the balcony to get a closer look at the two men.

One looked significantly older and was taller, the first man to speak; the second man was smaller and more slender, and around a good head or two shorter.

Then the second man turned to the side and Kurt froze in his place. He recognised the curve of the cheek, the slope of the nose. He recognised the shape of the lips and the low, warm voice.

He hadn't been imagining things at the airport. It was Blaine. There was no mistaking it. And the other man, Cooper, was clearly his older brother.

Kurt's head spun. What was he to do now, now that Blaine was here, in Rome? Looking very, very good, I might add, Kurt's mind supplied as his brain failed to engage properly in light of the shock he had just received. Well, it was true. In a light blue polo shirt and tan shorts, he did look effortlessly attractive in more ways than one. Damn him.

Oh God, am I salivating? Stop it, Kurt! Focus! What happened to personal freedom and liberation?

Well, answered a little voice in the back of his mind, it was never really all about you, was it? One of the reasons you came here was to get away from thoughts of Blaine. And now he's walked right into your path and thrown you off your aim.

Kurt pulled himself away reluctantly from the balcony and went back inside, deciding he better take that shower to distract himself. Maybe it should be a cold one.

He went into the bathroom and pulled off his clothes, shutting the door behind him and switching on the chrome shower, feeling pleasure in the hum of electricity as it came to life. A spray of steaming hot water invited him in, and he stepped under the water without thinking about it, letting the stream hit his back, his chest, his face, his legs. The heat and steam cleared his head and he let his eyes drift closed.

His mind's eye filled with images of Blaine. They appeared suddenly and surprisingly, consuming his imagination. He re-lived kissing Blaine in the airplane bathroom, experiencing the warmth and softness of his lips once over. The gentleness of his touch overwhelmed him again, now, in his imagination just as it had done in real life.

Only his imagination didn't stop there.

Images from the dream he'd had on the plane combined with his memory of kissing Blaine and all of a sudden Kurt knew that Blaine had been the man in his dream. He'd known he'd been familiar at the time but had been unable to place his face. Now he knew.

He imaged Blaine, just like in his dream, lying sprawled nude in his bed, the sheets tangled around his waist. He imagined wrapping his arms around that ridiculously slender waist (seriously, how is that possible? He thought absently) as Blaine softly kissed his neck - he had a thing about that, okay? - and shoulders. Kurt imagined gasping as Blaine's lips travelled across both collarbones and down across his chest, brushing the trail of light hair that lead down to his navel, making his stomach muscles quiver.

He imagined him nipping playfully at his hipbones then smoothing his tongue, wet and warm, over the red marks left behind on his skin. He would nuzzle his stomach affectionately and then sink down over his hard, flushed length, licking and dragging his lips over the ridges and curves, applying pressure just under the leaking head.

Kurt gasped and his eyes flew open, realising that whilst he had been daydreaming, the water had run icy cold and was stinging his skin. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped an enormous white towel around his waist and breathed hard, determined to calm himself down after his....well, wild fantasy, for lack of a better term. That was......interesting. That's never happened before, not even with my old boyfriend Jonathan. Jonathan was the intern with whom Kurt had had a brief relationship. There had been no spark, no chemistry between them.

There was chemistry between him and Blaine. He could deny it no longer. Seeing him again - albeit rather unexpectedly, his mind added - had forced him to confront what he had been feeling all along.

But Rome was a big city, and Blaine could be anywhere. The odd of me running into him are less than zero, he thought pessimistically. And even if we crossed paths, what would I say? "I had a fantasy about you blowing me in the shower. Why have you been avoiding me?" Yeah, that would go down well - pardon the pun.

Kurt changed quickly and decided to head out into the city to see a few of the sights to take his mind off things. He was out of the hotel in less than ten minutes and had the entire city of Rome before him to explore at his leisure.

******************************************************************************************

Kurt's feet were aching and sore.

He had been walking all day, visiting landmarks and optimum tourist hotspots, navigating loved-up couples as he did so. To his surprise, it didn't bother him as much as it had before. He didn't care that everywhere he looked there seemed to be pairs of people. He was, to be frank, past caring.

Until, of course, the unexpected happened.

With the sun low in the sky, which was turning a pinky orange, Kurt took a seat outside a traditional gelateria to rest his feet. He simply sat and perused the list of mouth-watering ice creams on offer whilst watching the world go by. He couldn't believe that there were so many people about. Even the streets of New York had their quieter moments, if anyone could comprehend such a thing, but here the streets were filled to the brim all day, every day.

It was overwhelming and strangely comforting all at once.

Kurt felt incredibly relaxed, sitting here in the balmy evening sun. He didn't think about how the pink of the sky reminded him of candy hearts, or how that cloud was shaped like a valentine. He forgot about it all, every last detail. He didn't even notice when someone stepped into his line of vision, casting a shadow over the table.

"D'you mind if I join you?" Blaine asked shyly, his confident, friendly demeanour gone. He was wringing his hands in front of body. "I wasn't following you or anything, I swear, I saw you over here and....I wanted to say hi."

Kurt nudged the opposite chair with his foot. "Be my guest." He kept his voice calm, though internally his mind was running riot. Blaine sat down with relief, attempting a thin smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked nervous, and Kurt supposed that he had a right to be.

"I owe you an apology, Kurt. A real one, when I'm actually sober and not a complete mess." Blaine began. "I'm so embarrassed about that message I left on your cell....."

"Don't be." Kurt insisted, resisting the urge to take one of Blaine's hands in his own. Now is not the time, he told himself fiercely. Let him explain himself first. "I have to admit, I was....confused about it, at first, but I tried not to be hurt by it. You must have had your reasons."

"I panicked." Blaine confessed. "I thought....I thought you didn't feel the same way."

"The same way about what?" Kurt asked, puzzled.

Blaine looked crestfallen, and Kurt immediately regretted his question. "The same way about me that I do about you."

There. It was out in the open, hanging in the air like a spider's web, thin and stretching out between them, connecting them. What Kurt had been feeling for months had finally been said and it felt as though a huge weight lift off of his shoulders.

"But I do." Kurt whispered, so low that Blaine had to lean in to hear him correctly. "I thought you didn't feel that way about me!"

To his surprise, Blaine laughed. Oh, I've missed hearing that laugh, Kurt thought. It reminds me of summer and sunshine and.....optimism. That's why I had felt optimism in my dream. This time, Blaine smiled widely, his usual white, broad smile, and Kurt couldn't help but return it.

"Why would you think that?" Blaine asked. "Then again, I know why - I suck at romance. I can never get anything right."

"Avoiding me might have been a stretch too far." Kurt admitted with a teasing expression.

"I thought that might have been a bad idea. It was a good idea at the time, I swear. I'm such a coward, I'm sorry." Blaine replied. "I should have been straight with you."

"Then we'd have a bit of a problem because I'm anything but." Kurt quipped, and they both let out a burst of laughter.

"You're one of a kind, Kurt Hummel." Blaine said.

"So are you."

"No, I'm not. I'm just your ordinary flight attendant who dropped out of music grad school to care for his mother." Blaine said, a little sadly.

"You're better than you think you are." Kurt insisted. "I wouldn't like you so much if you weren't."

"How much do you like me?" he asked, his voice serious yet gentle. The kind of voice Kurt hadn't heard in a long time.

"A lot."

"That's not answer!" Blaine protested.

"Fine. I like you as much as......as much as the Italians like pasta." Kurt supplied, and Blaine snorted. Well, it was really a noise between a snort and a chuckle.

"I guess that's a lot, then."

"It is." Now Kurt felt it was the right time to take Blaine's hand, and he did so. It was just as warm and comforting as he remembered. Had it really been two months since they'd last seen each other? Last heard each other's voices, face to face?

Was Kurt really falling for him?

"I'm falling for you." Kurt blurted out.

"Let me take you out somewhere." Blaine said at exactly the same time.

Kurt's consequential smile could have split his face in half.

"Where did you have in mind?"

*********************************************************************

Later, much later, Blaine invited Kurt back to his own hotel, across the city.

"I know it's far but.....d'you want to?" he asked, hope sparkling in those bright, hazel eyes that Kurt had come to be so familiar with. Both giddy and flushed with wine and the possibilities that the night held, Kurt reached once again for Blaine's hand, their fingers brushing together but not quite interlocking.

"I'd like to." Kurt replied simply, nodding the affirmative. He didn't know what had made him make such a bold decision, but he felt like it was the right decision to make right now.

And so Blaine hailed a cab, and in Italian much better than Kurt's (and made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.....and not just in his chest), directed the driver to a hotel that sounded very, very fancy, if the name of it was anything to by. Not that Kurt really knew what it meant in Italian.

When he saw the hotel, his jaw dropped.

"Cooper paid for it. It's not my style." Blaine said when he saw Kurt's expression.

"I've never been anywhere this nice, and I work for Vogue." Kurt replied, getting out of the cab and staring up in wonder. The building was pure white and half-covered in ivy, and golden letters across the front spelled out the name of the establishment in a swift penmanship that Kurt was extremely jealous of.

"You like it?" Blaine asked sceptically, one eyebrow raised.

"I love it." was the sincere reply.

Inside was even more magnificent than the outside. If he'd thought his hotel was nice, he hadn't seen anything and had lived a rather sheltered life, hotel-wise. This one had marble floors and gold leaf absolutely everywhere, gleaming mahogany furniture and huge gold-plated clocks hanging on the wall above the reception desk, each showing the time in a different country in a different time zone. In London, it was currently 11:32pm.

The woman manning the desk eyed them with a knowing look as they passed, heading for the elevators situated at the other end of the lobby.

Once inside and the elevator was taking them smoothly upwards, Kurt had a moment to reflect. This is happening, he thought. This is actually happening. It's actually happening, right now, to me.

Rachel can never know about this.

A few seconds later, they reached Blaine's floor. Kurt was excited and nervous at the same time; exhilarated, but shy. He wondered if Blaine would think badly of him for being nervous; this wasn't the type of thing he did everyday but oh, did he want it. He wanted it badly.

Blaine lead him silently to his room, slipping in the key card and swinging open the door when the little beep sounded to let them know it was unlocked. This is actually happening, Kurt's mind repeated, over and over. I can't believe this is actually happening.

Once they were inside, silence fell between them. The anticipation was palpable; you could have cut it with a knife. You could say he was stupid, but Kurt felt as though something electric was crackling in the air between them; excitement, and something else unknown.

They both stepped towards each other at the same time; took a step back at the same time, embarrassed, shy, nervous. Neither had done anything like this before. It was completely new, all of it, and they weren't sure how they should proceed, always careful of the reactions of the other.

"D'you want to......?" Blaine asked, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous habit, Kurt thought. But he doesn't have to be nervous. Does he? I'm nervous. Does that mean he's nervous? Stop babbling, Kurt!

"Come here." Kurt hadn't meant for it to be an order; he didn't even know what had made him say it. All he knew was that he wanted it to happen, now.

Blaine wordlessly stepped into Kurt's slightly outstretched arms, his own arms immediately going around Kurt's waist, gripping him tight. Here, Blaine being short had its advantages; he fit neatly in his embrace, the top of his head in line with the tip of Kurt's nose. They stayed like this for a moment, silent, hearing the sound of each other's breath. At that moment, a rush of adrenaline surged through Kurt's body and he closed to gap between their lips in less than a second.

The kiss was sweet and tender and yet strong, assertive, similar and yet different from their first kiss all that time ago - had it really only been two months? - and Blaine automatically reached up to cup the side of Kurt's face, feeling the smoothness of his cheek beneath his fingertips. It wasn't the best kiss; their noses bumped, making them both giggle, and their teeth clashed somewhat painfully as Kurt made to change angles, but neither cared. They were nervous; this was new; it wasn't going to be perfect first time. Because Kurt did believe that it was the first time, the first time like this. The first time I've ever kissed anybody and really wanted to, he thought.

They both grew hungry for more, and Kurt took it upon himself to pull Blaine closer, wanting to feel every part of his body touch his. It was an overwhelming desire he'd never felt before.

Before he realised it, Blaine had him backed up against the door of the hotel room, and was kissing along his exposed jaw and neck, hard, desperate pecks that were all lips and emotion and a kind of release, a finally, this is happening after so long, release. Kurt gasped - just like in his fantasy - and grasped uselessly at Blaine's sweater, pulling it loose from his jeans, feeling warm skin beneath his palms.

"I have an idea." Blaine said, nuzzling his nose along the line of Kurt's neck. "If-if you'll let me."

"What is it?" Kurt asked, breathless, lifting Blaine's chin up to kiss him.

"I want to take a bath with you." he blurted, and then coloured almost immediately; he watched Kurt's face carefully for his reaction.

"I think I'd like that." Kurt heard himself say, although at the time he didn't remember saying it nor thinking about saying it. It had simply come out, the adrenaline of the moment storming through his veins and claiming his mind.

Blaine smiled, a quirk of the lips, and disentangled himself from Kurt to disappear into the large ensuite bathroom. Kurt heard the squeak of a tap and then the splash of running water. If his heart wasn't beating a mile a minute before, it was now. He just couldn't believe how he'd got so lucky. This might just be the best day of my life. Well, the best day of my life so far.

Minutes later, Blaine returned, looking pink and flushed but decidedly happy, and Kurt felt a twinge of pride. I made him feel that way, he thought. I did that. It was different with Blaine. Everything was different with Blaine. He liked it. No, he loved it.

"Well, this is awkward." Blaine announced into the silence, perched on the edge of the equally large bed in the middle of the room. The sheets were bright white and gold with matching gold embroidery on the hems.

"It's not awkward." Kurt assured him. "I think the word you're looking for is pleasant or amiable." Blaine smiled.

"You never fail to amuse me, Kurt Hummel."

"Okay, that's the second time you've used my full name now." Kurt accused teasingly. "Is there a reason for that, or.....?"

"I like the way it sounds." Blaine said. Kurt lifted an eyebrow.

"You like....the way it sounds. You are something else, Blaine Anderson." Kurt retorted.

"Touché. I should have seen that one coming."

"I have nothing if not the element of surprise." Kurt said.

Blaine suddenly jumped up from the bed. "I think the bath's ready." he said softly.

And there it was again, that palpable electric energy, buzzing between them. Kurt's heart leapt in anticipation of what was to come, of what might - and could - happen. Wordlessly Blaine took his hand once more and lead him into the steamy bathroom, where, as he had predicted, a claw-footed tub - claw footed! This is like a dream! - was filled with hot, inviting water. The scent of oranges from the copious amount of bubbles filled the air with the rising steam; Kurt was drawn in by its perfume and the heat, the proximity of the situation.

He took the reigns for the second time that night and slowly, without speaking, wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist and took the hem of his sweater in both hands, pulling sharply upwards, making it clear that he wanted it removed. It was up and off within seconds, and Blaine was bare from the waist up, breathing in deeply. Turning around in Kurt's arms, he kissed him as he began to unbutton Kurt's own shirt, navy cotton, and in the wake of the open buttons he moved his mouth to the skin that was rapidly being exposed.

When he reached the final button, he stopped, his lips hovering inches above the waistband of Kurt's pants, and he took a moment to press a lingering kiss to Kurt's stomach and simply revel in what was actually happening.

He slipped Kurt's shirt from his shoulders so that he was bare, too. Now, they were both equal. Kurt noticed that there were several scars across Blaine's chest; some small, some larger. Childhood injuries, or something more sinister? Now was not the time to ask, and he filed those questions away for a later date. Blaine's hands fluttered around zipper, and he looked up in silent enquiry, asking if he could continue with his removal of Kurt's clothes.

"At the same time." Kurt said, reaching for Blaine's own belt buckle. "To make it fair."

"That's a good idea." Blaine agreed. "D'you wanna do a countdown or something....?"

"Blaine, we're not blasting off a rocket." Kurt reminded him.

"Right, right, sorry. I'm nervous." he admitted, biting his lip. Kurt resisted the urge to stare at it. Focus, Kurt! This is a very important moment in your life!

"Don't be nervous. You're a flight attendant, remember? You've been 37,000ft up into the air. Surely you can do this if you can do that." Kurt assured him.

"Okay." Blaine said quietly, and in one swift movement, he pulled down Kurt's zipper. The material sagged around his hips for a moment before falling to the floor around his ankles, leaving him only in a pair of plain black boxer briefs that fitted like a second skin.

"What happened to at the same time?" Blaine asked, half-mocking.

"Sorry! I have a slow reaction time!" Kurt replied. "My turn now." With shaking hands and feeling like a giddy schoolgirl, he slowly unbuckled Blaine's belt, the metal of the buckle cool against his fingers in contrast with the roughness of the underside of the leather. The heavier denim was harder to remove, but a few tugs had the material falling down to puddle around his feet in the same way that Kurt's had.

"We match!" Blaine laughed, and Kurt looked down to see that Blaine, too, was wearing plain black boxer briefs.

"I have to say, your taste in fashion is impeccable." Kurt said.

"You're the fashion expert, you would know." Blaine replied. "But I believe that there's still one item of clothing that needs to come off....unless you'd rather get your underwear wet, of course."

Kurt went pink. Of course. I have to take my underpants off. In front of Blaine. For the first time.

Closing his eyes tight, he hooked his thumbs into his underpants and pulled them off, letting them join his pants on the floor. He'd worry about getting them ironed and pressed later. When he opened them, he saw that Blaine had already taken off his own and had slipped in the tub himself to wait for him, a content smile on his face.

"Don't want to get the water cold, do we?" he said in reply to Kurt's confused expression.

"You are impossible."

"Just get in, Kurt. It's nice and warm."

"Alright, alright!" Kurt said, taking a few deep breaths to steel himself. So that he didn't look at his own body for too long, he quickly climbed into the deep water, sighing in relief at the blissful warmth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a bath; he usually just showered long enough to wash all over before getting out again.

Maybe I just hadn't had anyone to share the experience with, he thought, as Blaine's wet hands involuntarily reached for his hips to pull him down into the water, between his legs. At first Kurt panicked about slipping and falling, but then he remembered that Blaine was there behind him, bracketing him with his legs and arms so that didn't happen. He sank back into the bowl of his embrace, his head coming to rest in the crook of Blaine's neck between his jaw and shoulder. He heard a laugh from above him and he turned to look at Blaine questioningly.

"Your hair tickles." he said by way of explanation.

"Maybe you just have a really ticklish neck." Kurt replied, resting his head back again. The rhythmic movement of Blaine's chest against his back as he breathed in and out was soothing, their inhales and exhales almost matching in pattern. He would usually be embarrassed about being completely naked in front of a man he'd only kissed once - well, twice now - but he wasn't. He really wasn't. This is weird and amazing all at the same time.

Blaine ran his fingers across Kurt's forearm, making the hairs there stand up on end. It was such a simple touch, so gentle, but it made Kurt feel.....special. Wanted. Not many people had made him feel like that, at least not in a romantic sense. The hot water combined with the intimacy, the romance of the setting felt wonderful. Not for the first time, he felt like he was in a movie; nothing like this had ever happened to him back in New York. He never thought it would, until now.

It felt like a fairytale, but one that was happening to him. He could scarcely believe it.

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine asked curiously.

"How lucky I am." Kurt answered honestly. Well, it was true. He was incredibly, incredibly lucky.

"That's where you're wrong." Blaine countered. Kurt turned to look at him, his mouth muffled by the damp skin of Blaine's neck.

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm the lucky one." he said simply, interlocking Kurt's fingers with his across Kurt's stomach, so that their hands were intertwined. Kurt noticed the tan colour of Blaine's skin compared to his own milk-bottle white complexion, the way his nails were shorter and wider than his own.

"That's not true." Kurt mumbled, half-sleepy, half too content to even do anything.

"It's true if I say it is."

"Right."

"I mean it!"

"Sure."

A comfortable silence fell between them, the only sound being the sound of each other's breathing in the air. Steam continued to rise from the tub, but whether that was from the hot water or the heat of their bodies, it was impossible to tell. Kurt would like to think that it was a bit of both.

He felt Blaine's lips press against a spot just under his jaw, feather-light and barely touching, but it made Kurt shiver pleasantly regardless.

"You're a like a kitten getting its belly rubbed." Blaine commented.

"I'd rather not be compared to small furry animal that can bite and scratch, thank you."

"It's a compliment!"

"I know. I was just teasing." Kurt said with a smile.

*********************************************************************************************

Later, with the bathtub emptied and their skin damp and flushed pink from the heat and the steam, they lay alongside each other in their underwear on the bed, each glancing at the other shyly every few seconds. Kurt was sure that Blaine could hear his heart beat hard and fast in his chest, but if he could, he didn't say anything about it.

"I guess I should go......." Kurt began, unsure of whether that was the right thing to say. He didn't want to go, of course he didn't. I'd stay here forever if I could. If he'd let me.

"D'you want to?" Blaine asked.

"No." Kurt replied.

"Then don't. Stay here tonight." Kurt heard the unspoken phrase; Stay here with me.

"I will." Kurt said. He inched his hand across the space between them and Blaine took it, squeezing his fingers and rubbing a thumb across the taught skin of his knuckles.

"D'you want to.....you know, get in the bed or.....?" Blaine stammered, and Kurt warmed to his endearing nervousness.

"I'd like that." Kurt nodded, feeling bold again.

Silently, they slipped from the bed in unison and pulled back the heavy duvet, revealing crystal white sheets, soft and smooth and welcoming. Kurt looked at Blaine for reassurance. I don't want to do this completely wrong, he thought. I want to do this right for once in my life.

At the same time, they slid into the bed, both grinning like idiots but both feeling very, very happy. Oh, get a grip, Kurt. You've already seen him naked. What more could you possibly have to see?

They turned to face each other, but Kurt stopped him, and motioned for him to turn back around. Blaine obliged, and Kurt sidled up behind him, putting his arms around his waist and sliding his legs in between his, so that they were tangled together, their toes touching. His breath fanned out against the back of Blaine's neck and he shuddered beneath him, his breathing deep and even.

Blaine reached out to switch off the last remaining light and the room was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from a sliver of a gap in the curtains, which had long since been drawn shut. In the distance, a car horn hooted and the sound of traffic was a faint hum in the background, the soundtrack to the scene.

An airplane raced overhead, loud and rumbling, and Kurt fought back a smile, even though he knew that Blaine couldn't see it in the darkness.

"You're smiling, aren't you?" Blaine asked suddenly, and Kurt was taken aback.

"Are you psychic?"

"No. I can just tell." Blaine answered.

"Are you?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah."

Kurt pressed his face into Blaine's neck, his nose brushing against the curls that had sprung loose there. He inhaled deeply.

Coffee, clean wool and optimism. Just as I had imagined it would be.

He had another six days here. Another six days to explore and experience and enjoy. It was another six days with Blaine, and that was all that mattered. No more quick conversations in crowded airplanes or kisses in tiny bathrooms that were so small they could have been made for Smurfs. Here was six days of freedom, of privacy all to themselves, and he was not going to waste a minute.