Kurt figured it took about 45 minutes for them to realize he was missing, and by then he was long gone, watching the city pull itself out of its late-night lull.

It took an hour for the phone calls to start. He didn’t answer; it was about time his voicemail got a chance to do its job. Terri would probably kill him whenever he decided to wander his way back to the apartment, but that wouldn’t be for a while yet; it was just barely sunup now, and Kurt was making plans. Yeah, they were plans to do absolutely nothing in the Big Apple, but they weren’t carefully planned ‘marketing strategies’ or ‘professional development’. And these plans conveniently ignored the dinner party with Alix Ayerson, a major upside.

She was pretty, but Kurt wasn’t interested. He wasn’t sure why Terri thought he was, what with all the complaining Emma must have relayed to her when Kurt attended benefit dinners and A-list events. Hanging around the younger stars involved so many rules it just wasn’t worth talking to them; don’t mention this, they don’t know about it. Can’t go to that show with him because he’s too young; can’t dance with her because it goes against the image she has; for the love of all that is holy stop flirting with that one—she’s too clingy and more likely than anyone to ruin your career if you break her little delusional heart. It would be more of the same if Kurt ate with Alix. So he was really doing them both a favor by not showing up.

One person he was not helping: Terri. In the twenty minutes since she’d made her first call, she’d called back ten times, left five voice messages and was working on flooding his inbox with texts.

Terri [05:53]: What do you think you’re doing? Wandering out by yourself, are you insane?!

Kurt snorted. Okay, Terri. Call your biggest client a nut job, that’ll make him come back…

KEH [05:54]: nope.

Terri [05:54]: This is not a joke. Where are you, there are people you need to meet.

KEH [05:55]: don’t care.

Emma [05:55]: Kurt, Terri’s only asking because she’s worried about you. This is going to be a nightmare if something happens. Can you come back so we can start the day, please?

So now Emma was in on the action. But Kurt would not be swayed by the red haired, doe-eyed publicist. Even if she was the nicest out of the women Kurt got landed with.

Kurt [5:56]: it’s a huge city, i’ll be fine. what is the worst that could happen?

Kurt took a second to ponder that at a crosswalk. What was the worst that could happen? He was in one of the largest cities in the country, completely hidden from everyone by cleverly applied makeup and a blonde wig. Nobody would be able to find him.

His phone vibrated again as he started crossing with the light.

His iPhone.

Which probably had a tracking device on it. Or in it.

That could throw a wrench into his day off.

He spent the next couple of minutes tapping furiously about the internet, looking for tips to turn that particular feature off before Terri remembered its existence and sent out the head hunters.

So he didn’t see the boy backing out of the Caffébeane with cups of iced coffee and a bag of takeout until it was too late. They crashed into each other, limbs tangling as they hit the sidewalk, the boy’s coffee flying out of his hands and directly into his lap. The iced coffee was enough to make Kurt realize he was kneeling on a grimy Times Square sidewalk, quite literally on top of another boy. A boy who was looking up a Kurt in total confusion with the most beautiful eyes Kurt had ever seen. They were brown, which should have been average enough, but there were traces of green around the edges; the lights from the still-lit neon signs created a shifting palette that mesmerized Kurt. In the space of a second, Kurt noted his eyes and his somewhat stunned expression as he got his bearings.

Blaine had been put in a lot of very confusing situations in his life. There was the time Cooper convinced him the alphabet started with ‘Z’ when he was learning his alphabet; a couple of summers ago his parents’ GPS kept sending Blaine to the recently opened strip club in Westerville no matter how many times Blaine reprogrammed it (turned out Cooper made college friends who knew how to redirect a GPS from a remote location).

So most of Blaine’s moments of confusion were Cooper related.

It was a nice change, not knowing his older brother had something to do with the latest disaster. A disaster that was equal parts chilling and exhilarating. It wasn’t everyday a New York boy practically falls into your lap. It also wasn’t common to have lap-fulls of vegan-fair-trade-iced-coffee dumped into your lap.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The boy scrambled off him and extended a graceful hand. Blaine took it carefully and got to his feet, swiping hastily at the coffee streaming in rivulets down his shorts to his legs and the pavement.

“You’re fine.” Blaine assured, bending over to continue wiping at his shorts. “I should have known better. I mean, who backs out of a shop on Broadway, right?”

A quietly embarrassed chuckle sounded from somewhere above him. “That’s true. But I still feel bad. Are you okay?”

Blaine stooped to pick up his now-empty cups and the carry out bag. “Definitely. Just a little soggy”

“I can go get some napkins or something?”

“You don’t have to do that.” Blaine stood hurriedly, hoping to head off the boy and stopped dead, his words dying on his tongue.

The rising sun had been creating a convenient glare behind the boy; Blaine hadn’t been able to get a clear view of his face until he was properly standing.  The boy was gorgeous, all blond hair, gray-blue-green eyes and pale skin.  His features were graceful, although they seemed a little muted…  Was that makeup?  Blaine wasn’t about to complain; the guy could do whatever he wanted, it’s 21st century New York, after all.  And if he was wearing it, it was only helping show the angelic qualities about his face.

Make up aside, Blaine couldn’t get enough of his eyes.  They seemed to change color every time he blinked (how was that even possible?); his eyelashes framed them so they appeared larger than they already were.

Blaine hurried to organize his thoughts.  Maybe if he seemed like less than concussed, the boy would understand he was okay and go meet the fabulous person he had to be dating.  A boy like that was too pretty to be single.  Now what would send him on his way?

“You don’t have to get me any napkins, but I was looking forward to that coffee…" he blurted and.

Well those weren’t what he needed to let slip.  He wanted to talk to this boy; doesn’t mean he should, or that the feeling was mutual.

The eyes picked up a mischievous glint as the boy smiled at Blaine.

“Well then, we’ll just have to get you another one, won’t we?”

“I guess so.” Blaine flashed him a smile. It had to be a good sign if he was flirting back, right? He offered his hand. “I’m Blaine.”

The boy took it and shook. “Kurt.”

Blaine may not have made the connection if Kurt hadn’t noticeably paled, swore under his breath, then pulled away and scratched at his hair which, now that Blaine was noticing, was just a little bit off center, blond where his eyebrows were brown. But his eyes, paired with the name, hit Blaine like a brick wall.

“You mean…like, Kurt Hum—” Kurt’s hand clapped over Blaine’s face and Kurt was in his ear, leaning into him with a presence that couldn’t possibly be real and shushing him.

“I would hate to have to take off running because of a random crowd. And we definitely wouldn’t be able to get that coffee then, would we?”

This was really Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel was touching Blaine’s face, breathing on him, smiling at him like he was interesting. Blaine must have been hit by a taxi, or snatched into a shadowed alleyway and shanked or something; his subconscious is giving him his deepest desire since he doesn’t have much time left. That made a lot more sense than what Blaine was experiencing. So Blaine took a calming breath around Kurt’s hand and shook his head in reply to Kurt’s question. His smile got brighter, if that was even possible, as he removed his hand, grabbed Blaine by the arm, and began pulling him down the street.

“I know some places smaller than this one that serve better coffee.” He looked over his shoulder at Blaine and noticed his stained clothes. “And there are a couple places we can get some shorts, too.”

Blaine nodded and allowed Kurt to pull him down the street. His imagination must have been convinced he was about to die; it would be better to go along with whatever he could dream up before he met whatever fate was waiting for him.

So he followed Kurt, watching the blond wig weave through the crowd.

This Blaine kid is quiet, Kurt determined as he sipped his mocha. They had wandered for a couple of blocks, long enough for Kurt to find an out-of-the-way ATM, before stumbling into a decent looking clothing store. Blaine had loosened up a bit while they were pouring through the racks for bottoms in his size, responding to Kurt’s commentary on the stock (he laughed when Kurt proposed he try on the loudest pair of Bermuda shorts either of them had ever seen and made a comment about his best friend probably owning a pair; Kurt knew as soon as he heard Blaine he wanted to listen to that laugh again...), and the people browsing the racks around them. Blaine had settled on jean shorts similar to his original pair and balked when Kurt paid for them at the register.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Blaine had offered his debit card to the clerk, but Kurt

“But I do. I’m the reason you’ve got coffee everywhere. And I’m paying when we get to the café, too.”

Blaine had glanced at Kurt, making eye contact for an instant before looking away and flushing a deeper red. He was still blushing now, sitting in front of Kurt and tying knots in his straw wrapper like they would explain the secrets of life. Kurt decided to get him talking.

“So Blaine, where were you headed?” Blaine looked up in confusion.

“Headed?”

“Before I gave you a lap full of coffee.”

“I had picked up breakfast for me and my best friend. She’s actually sitting rush at the Gershwin right now.”

Kurt let out a low whistle. “Those lines must be hell. Idina’s back, isn’t she?” Blaine nodded.

“It was insane. She’s got a group of people she met and they keep singing, so I needed a break; that’s why I was out.”

“So you took a break from singing and met a singer.” Kurt smirked as he took another drink.

“You could say that.” Blaine smiled, cautiously peeking at Kurt. He took a deep breath before clutching his coffee and asking a question.

“So what would a big singer be doing wandering around by himself?”

“Taking a bit of a personal day.”

“Personal day?”

Kurt made a noise in the affirmative. “A whole day to do whatever he wants without worrying what anybody is thinking.”

“Sounds exciting.” Blaine’s tone was cryptic; did he actually mean that, or just filling the silence?

“It’s definitely looking that way.” And it was. Kurt managed to crash into someone who obviously knew who he was but didn’t kick up the usual fuss. When Kurt first noticed the recognition in Blaine’s posture, he had been prepared to take off down the sidewalk, but Blaine clammed up when Kurt laid a hand over his mouth. He had behaved perfectly (if not enthusiastically) since then.  Which was great. But Kurt really wanted to talk with him. The fact that he was willing to sit with Kurt had to say something about him, right?

“What makes you say that?” Blaine was watching Kurt in earnest now. It almost felt like Blaine was after the secrets to Kurt’s mind; Kurt felt the crazy need to tell him everything if Blaine so much as hinted at being curious.

“The fact that I’m sitting in a quiet little café, having a drink with someone I’m not being forced to talk to is a big reason.”

“Forced?”

Kurt nodded around his cup. “Sit pretty with the interviewer, say this and don’t go off it.”

“That doesn’t sound interesting at all.”

“It isn’t when they’re old enough to be your grandparents.” Kurt agreed. “Now, if they were closer to my age, I don’t think it would be so bad. It’d just feel like talking.”

Blaine’s eyes darted to meet Kurt’s, flashing uncertainly. “Like talking, huh?”

“Yeah. Just talking would be a nice change.”

Another deep breath from Blaine. “Well then, maybe you ran into somebody you can…talk…with.”

Kurt laughed as the rest of Blaine’s blood flowed into his face. He was so flustered; it was cute. A nice change from the snooty reporters and entitled starlets he had to talk with most of the time. And about a million times better than any interaction with Terri or Sue.

“I think I would like that a lot.” He held Blaine’s gaze, trying his best to appear gentle and welcoming. It wouldn’t do to scare off the one normal person Kurt’s had the chance to meet in three years because he couldn’t keep the ravenous need for regular contact out of his expression.

Blaine stared right back, something that looked like a mix between flattery and sheer terror running about in the back of his mind. Kurt could practically see the gears turning as he made his decision; at least, he could until Barbara Streisand started blaring from Blaine’s pocket. He scrambled for it, glancing apologetically at Kurt after he sent back a reply.

“Sorry, my friend. She’s wondering where I am.”

“I’m so sure. Couldn’t wait to sell your story, could you?” Kurt put on an offended front, crossing his arms and huffing. Blaine paled and set his phone down.

“I wouldn’t! I mean, you’re out in,” he fumbled for his words, not wanting to cause problems, “disguise. I’m not going to be the one to take that away from you!”

Kurt laughed again, watching Blaine sputter in quiet indignity. “I was completely kidding, Blaine. And it’s cool if you have to go.”

The tension flooded out of Blaine’s shoulder. “That was a terrible joke.”

“Terrible was it?”

“Yeah. I should probably get going; she’s looking for me.”

“Well, nobody is stopping you…” Kurt gestured to the door, feigning nonchalance. He didn’t want this boy to go, not now that he was actually loosening up. Blaine shuffled around with his things, but didn’t make an effort to get up.

“But I don’t want to go.”

“So don’t. Come away with me, Blaine of the Gel. We can explore the city together.”

Blaine laughed, picking up his phone again as his text tone went off. Kurt wondered if it was his general tone or just for this friend. He watched Blaine roll his eyes and pick up his things.

“Very tempting, but I can’t. Rachel’s threatening to release the hounds if I don’t get back soon; we have to get ready for the show. Plus we have to meet someone for brunch, so…thanks?” he stood to leave, hesitating and creating the awkward pre-goodbye tension. Kurt stood too, guiding them to the trashcans and then the door to try and make it better. He wasn’t going to sit in the shop alone once Blaine left.

“No problem. We can try again later.”

“How?” They stepped out into the mid-morning heat.

“Gimme your phone.”

Blaine did, dumbfounded. Kurt struggled over the blackberry’s keys as best he could and pressed the ‘call’ button before handing it back to Blaine, who was staring at it as if the pope had blessed it.

“That’s how. Now go meet your friend.” Kurt shook Blaine’s hand, savoring the calloused finger pads and the warmth from his hand in spite of the June heat. Handshake over, he turned Blaine in the direction of Broadway and gave him a little push. “Have fun. Oh, and Blaine?”

He stumbled a little before turning around and shooting Kurt an inquisitive look.

“I really would like a conversation buddy.”

Blaine nodded dumbly, did a shaky about-face, and continued into the crowd. Kurt watched him wander off until his shiny, shorter-than-average head was swallowed up in the crowd. Once he was gone, Kurt turned back to his phone.

Blaine, he keyed in, saving his new contact. Coffee mate.

A taste of Freedom, he thought.