Chapter Two

" Okay, Finn, you're my boy, but I swear if you don't stop mooning over your French sweetheart, I'mma gonna punch ya."

Kurt smirked at Puck's easy threat, not bothering to look up from his drawings as they sat together in the third class section of deck, "Good luck with that. I've been trying to knock some sense into him for years…"

"Well, if your powers of persuasion are rendered inert, Mr Hummel, then your friend must truly be a lost cause…"

Kurt's head snapped up at the unexpected voice, playful yet clearly nervous. Puck took one look at the smartly dressed newcomer and started laughing his head off, clapping a concerned looking Finn on the shoulder as he marvelled at the rich boy's sudden appearance. Kurt's face drew into an easy smile, "Brother."

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed, "I'm sorry?"

"The lovestruck fool is my brother. Puck is just your everyday cretin; pretend he's not here."

"Hey!"

Kurt ignored him, "Can I help you, Mr Anderson?"

Blaine seemed to collect himself from the odd scene, "I, er, yes. I was wandering if you would walk with me up on top deck?"

Now Finn really looked worried, but Puck just seemed to find the whole incident the highlight of his trip, "Wow, what d'ya do, Hummel? Deflower his sister?"

Blaine shot the much taller man a disdainful look, "I don't have a sister. Do you ever tire of being so… crass?"

Puck shrugged, and replied plainly, "No, can't say that I do."

Kurt shook his head, folding his sketchbook under his arm and indicated for Blaine to lead the way.

They got a few looks, but Kurt was hardly one of the worst dressed passengers in steerage, and Blaine was clearly a young man of high standing, so for the most part, they were ignored. The pair chatted easily as they walked, about everything and anything, and yet, at the same time, nothing at all – at least where Blaine personally was concerned.

Nevertheless, Kurt allowed it. He enjoyed the conversation with this reserved boy. There was a joyful spark to him that shone when he forget that he was supposed to be rich and hold appearances. It was a window to a kind, opinionated person; someone who Kurt was eager to get to know more intimately.

Well… perhaps considering the boy's station, that would be a resoundingly bad idea, but Kurt couldn't deny how attractive he was. Still, he wasn't sure if he was willing to take the leap just yet. Many parts of Blaine were a mystery, and he had no idea how he would react. Kurt would rather not spend the rest of the voyage locked up…

He decided to swing the conversation on to why he was invading first class space so obviously, "So, Blaine, however interesting a topic my family is, I can't help but think that's not why you braved the ruffians of third class to ask me up here."

Blaine's posture immediately became unsure, but he was clearly determined to say his piece. "Well, Mr Hummel-"

"Kurt," he interjected. He hated how formal Blaine seemed to be required to be all the time; it didn't suit him.

"Kurt." Blaine agreed. "I just, I wanted to thank you for what you did last night… not just for pulling me back and saving me from making one of my worst decisions to date, but also for your discretion. For not telling them why…"

Kurt smiled gently as Blaine carefully chose his words, "You're welcome."

And yet, his passive reply seemed to stir even more discomfort in Blaine, as he shook his head, avoiding eye contact as he gestured hopelessly, "I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich boy," Kurt was surprised to hear the sheer self hating venom that Blaine managed to lace into his tone, "What does he know about misery?"

Kurt frowned softly, immediately refuting Blaine's words, "No." Blaine looked up at him with disbelief, and… hope? "No. All I can wonder is what could have happened to this boy to make him think that he has no way out."

Blaine just shrugged, his movements jittery, before his whole body seemed to still, and slump dejectedly. He sighed, looking out onto the ocean, replying quietly, "Have you ever felt like your life is not your own? Like you're just moving through it, being directed, pushed and guided. Working so hard just to get everything right, just so you can do exactly what everyone else wants of you…"

Kurt leant his elbows on the railings, next to Blaine, "I can't say that I have. Ever since my mother died… I promised myself, I wouldn't waste a moment. I would go where life takes me, live it to the full, where ever my path leads." He said the words without malice or gloating. Just the same, peaceful and calm tone that had so hypnotised Blaine the night before.

"It's all I've ever known…" He paused, "I'm to be married you know, when I arrive in America. The entirety of the Philadelphia elite is going to turn up to watch me wed the younger sister of that man I was with last night – Sebastian Smythe. I didn't even propose to her, but she's going to be my wife, and sometimes I can't get that idea out of my head and I just can't breathe-"

"Do you love her?" Kurt cut across with a sad smile, expecting one of two typical replies; a listless shrug or a display of false male bravado.

Instead, he was shocked to be faced with fiery hazel eyes and a vibrant anger, "What kind of a question is that?"

Kurt blinked, but kept his voice steady and determined, "A simple one. Do you love her?"

"I don't have to answer that!"

Kurt ploughed on, "So, maybe you love another girl then? One you've left behind in London, perhaps?"

If it were possible, Blaine got even more twitchy with misplaced anger, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, "I don't, I couldn't… Stop talking to me!"

Blaine started to storm away, and Kurt was, to be honest, more than a little bit confused. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he jogged to catch up, "Methinks the lady doth protest too much!"

And then Kurt found himself slammed against the bulkhead, Blaine's hands fisted in his shirt as the shorter boy glared up at him in anger and…fear? "Don't call me that!"

Kurt stared at Blaine for a moment, recognising an all too familiar look in the other boy's eyes, "Okay. I'm sorry."

Blaine kept on as if he hadn't heard, but still released Kurt nonetheless, "Who do you think you are, to judge my life, anyway? You, with your carefree attitude and silly smirk, carrying that foolish thing around with you all the time! What is that anyway?" Kurt allowed Blaine to dart forwards and take his sketchbook, all the more certain of his suspicions, and even if he wasn't, he knew the butterflies in his stomach all too well.

"My drawings." Kurt said needlessly, watching fondly as Blaine's momentary jittery anger skittered away on the breeze as the sketches took hold of him and he sat down.

"These are… these are actually really good Kurt…"

"I just draw what I see." Kurt smiled, sitting down next to Blaine, their shoulders brushing.

Blaine laughed softly as he thumbed through a few exquisitely rendered charcoals of naked women, "Clearly." But then he turned the page onto the life drawings of the more masculine variety, and wow, Blaine could not have blushed harder, "I… you… you drew all these from life?"

"In Paris, you can find anyone to pose for you."

By now, Blaine had quite clearly noted the rather overweighting towards drawings of men than drawings of women in Kurt's book. "You've… you've really gone into detail…"

Kurt took pity on him, "I'm sorry if they make you uncomfortable-" He reached forward to take the book back. He knew how jarring it could be, to be confronted with such drawings. For Kurt, there was a clear separation. He knew these men; they were friends, excellent conversation partners, nothing more. He knew their hopes and dreams, and he caught that on his paper. Some were rentboys, some were hard up artists like himself. None of them were lovers.

Blaine stilled his hand, his voice ever so soft, and quite shaky, but sure all the same. "They don't. Make me uncomfortable, that is." Blaine's hand lingered for slightly longer than strictly necessary. "This really is beautiful work, Kurt. It's like you've drawn their souls. You actually see people, not just what they show the world."

Kurt debated for a second whether to say it, but he was nothing if not confident, "I see you."

Blaine's head snapped up, his eyes wide and searching, before he allowed a smile to play on his lips, "Really? And what do you see?"

"You wouldn't have jumped." Kurt could say it, not only because he believed in Blaine's strength of character, but also because he needed to believe that Blaine wouldn't have robbed the world of his presence.

Kurt waited with baited breath for Blaine to respond, and relaxed when Blaine just smiled, "Tell me more about Paris?"

Kurt just grinned in return, happy to see Blaine's momentary panicked anger disappear, and obliged.

They talked all afternoon, the easy ebb and flow of conversation as sure as the waves Titanic cut through below. "Come on." Kurt refuted, "A public boarding school boy like you? I will not believe that you left with a blank sheet."

Blaine shrugged, "I just kept my head down. I did what they wanted and got through it." He blushed, "I'm not exactly the biggest guy. It was better just to stay unnoticed."

Kurt looked at him sadly, "I don't think you should let yourself be swallowed by the background, Blaine. Isn't there anything that you would love to do? Come on, any dream. You must have dreams!"

"Of course I have dreams! I want to go to Egypt and see the pyramids! I want to write a sell out show for Broadway! I want to sing my lungs out into the Grand Canyon just to fail to fill it!" Blaine's whole being seemed to glow with life and energy as he spilled his wildest dreams to Kurt, a brilliant smile on his face even though he knew none of it would come true.

Kurt stared at the other boy in wonderment. How could anyone want to snuff out such beautiful happiness from someone like Blaine? He grinned mischievously, "Well, I can't give you the Grand Canyon, but I'd say the Atlantic's a pretty big expanse, wouldn't you?"

"Kurt, what are you-" Blaine began warily.

"Come on!" Kurt pulled at Blaine's arm, "If there's one thing Paris, or more specifically, a certain Parisian named Rachel taught me, it's that you should sing at every opportunity!"

"You're insane! Kurt! Stop!" Blaine found his protests dying on his lips, the wild joy in the other boy's eyes infecting him deep in his chest.

Kurt grinned, and hummed a few bars of a well known sailing song, before picking up the words, singing them clear out on the waves with absolutely no intent on holding back. Blaine was mesmerised. Kurt's voice was… heart stopping. High, clear and lilting; absolutely perfect. Oh, what Blaine would give to write music for a voice like Kurt's…

And then Kurt was elbowing him, pointedly grinning, "Come on, Blaine!"

Nervously – because God people were probably staring! – Blaine joined in, his lower voice blending softly with Kurt's. Kurt rolled his eyes, "You can do better than that, Blaine, I though you wanted to fill the Grand Canyon? You can't even fill Titanic!"

Something deep down inside Blaine snapped at Kurt's words. Something that had been held fast since he was so very small. Something that he had buried since perhaps even before Cooper died, under a mountain of expectations and properness. So Blaine sang, giggling as he did so, blending his voice with Kurt's perfection.

Until out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of something familiar, and his voice died in his throat. His only saving grace at that moment was that his mother was with some of her friends, and that Sebastian was nowhere to be seen, "Mother!" Kurt turned at Blaine's change in demeanour, unable to ignore the pointed way in which the smaller boy put distance between them, "Mother, this is Mr Kurt Hummel."

Kurt watched as this new woman looked him over like something her overly priced dog might have brought in from the park, "What a charming song."

Kurt raised an eyebrow coolly, refusing to be intimidated by this ice queen of a woman. This is why he hated rich people, "It is, isn't it?"

The tallest woman of the pack, even having a few inches on Kurt in her height, looked upon the scene with a sparkle in her eyes that caught Kurt's attention, "I hear you're the one to thank for keeping young Blaine here from getting too closely acquainted with Titanic's engineering?"

Kurt grinned at her wry tone as Blaine ducked his head, "Yes Ma'am."

A fanfare of trumpets rang out over the deck, and Kurt watched as the blonde lady scoffed, "Honestly. I know it can seem like it, but we're going to dinner, not war!"

Kurt failed to hide his smirk at the woman's words as the other ladies refrained from reacting. Blaine looked more and more uncomfortable by the minute, "Shall I escort you back to your cabin, Mother?" He held out his arm, sending Kurt one last mischievous smile, "See you at dinner, Kurt."

Kurt nodded, only half covering how he was quite obviously staring at Blaine's ass as he walked away. The way Kurt saw it, no one expected him to be taking in the view, so to speak. "Porcelain? Hey, Porcelain!" Kurt jolted, realisingthat the blonde woman had stayed behind, supporting a smile that was far too knowing for Kurt's taste. And why the hell was she calling him that? "You have no idea what you're letting yourself in for, do you?"

Kurt just grinned, "Not really!"

"Well, you're about to go into the snake pit, and not everyone is as well prepared for such a trial as one Susan Sylvester." Kurt stared at her, and had to assume that was her name, because she kept going regardless, "What are you planning to wear?"

Kurt gestured to the clothes he wore, smartly quipping, "My wardrobe got stuck at customs."

"I thought it did." Miss Sylvester smirked. "Well, come on, what are you waiting for? Follow, boy, follow!"

Kurt stared after the bizarre woman, and rushed to obey.

Blaine had no idea why he was so jittery. It was just dinner for goodness sake! It would be the same boring, run of the mill, brain numbing dinner as usual!

Except it wouldn't. Because Kurt would be there.

Blaine had been forced to dismiss his manservant ten minutes ago, he had been so nervous. He couldn't stand still and let the man attempt to help dress him. Nothing was right, and it had to be perfect. Blaine had to be perfect.

Finally, after adjusting his bowtie one last time, Blaine took a deep, steadying breath and left his cabin, forcing himself to take calm, confident steps, and no, his hands were not shaking, thank you very much!

For the love of God, Blaine! Get a hold of yourself!

He kept berating his own thoughts the whole way to dinner. Until, that is, he reached the top of the grand staircase, and all semblance of intelligence went right out of the window. It was all Blaine could do but keep himself from gaping openly.

Because Kurt looked incredible. If Blaine hadn't been able to see those captivating eyes and that gorgeous smile, he might never have been able to equate this man before him with his saviour from last night. Kurt looked like he had been born to high society, his lithe form perfectly accentuated by the tailored white tie suit he now stood in, holding perfect posture as he smiled up at Blaine. His hair was styled away from his face, which only served to further define his high cheekbones and aristocratic features.

Blaine couldn't look away.

"You're staring." Kurt murmured with a soft smile as Blaine finally descended the staircase to meet him.

Blaine somehow recovered from the shock, and blushed, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise. I'm flattered you recognise me enough to notice. Your brother in law certainly didn't."

Blaine frowned, because how couldn't he have noticed Kurt? "Well, let's have some fun then!" Blaine grinned, dragging Kurt by the elbow to butt in to what was no doubt an important conversation with some Duke or other, "Sebastian, you remember Mr Hummel from last night?"

Sebastian turned, and Blaine watched as a silent battle of wills played out between the two men before him in a second, neither willing to give out, both having perfected the optimum level of cool distain. Finally, Sebastian laughed, recovering, "It's remarkable. You could nearly pass as one of us!"

Kurt smirked coldly, "Nearly." The meaning behind his reply rang clear to Blaine – as if he would ever want to be in the same class as Sebastian.

Sebastian was already guiding Blaine's mother away. Blaine shook his head, "I'm sorry about him."

"Well, I didn't help dress young Porcelain here so Smythe could take notice of him, now did I?" Blaine jolted in surprise as Miss Sylvester inserted herself easily between the two boys, linking her arms in theirs, "Escort a lady to dinner?"

Kurt was barely ruffled by her appearance, "Of course."

Blaine was just really confused. He bent backwards slightly to catch Kurt's eye behind Miss Sylvester's back, mouthing incredulously with a grin, 'Porcelain?'

Kurt just smiled mysteriously.

They hadn't even made it to the first course, and already Kurt was marvelling at how Blaine had even come into existence with a mother like he had! How did someone so joyful and kind come from someone as cold as this woman? Kurt could barely equate her with his stepmother, let alone his memories of his own mother. Miss Sylvester sat to his right, making sure he didn't make any dreadful etiquette faux pas, in her own impressively covert way.

Kurt fielded everything Mrs Anderson and Sebastian threw his way with a relaxed detachment, not allowing anything to faze him. After all, he wasn't sitting here to please anyone but Blaine. Speaking of Blaine, Kurt had to smile as he watched him kindly draw the quiet older man, Mr Andrews, into conversation with a natural smile and probably the only example of genuine interest this dining room would see all evening.

"But what could be greater than family?" Sebastian's sharp voice cut through Kurt's thoughts, and he just knew he wasn't going to like where this was going to go, "Why, our society has been built on the joining of families, of family business and such like!"

"Indeed." Mrs Anderson agreed, "What about you, Mr Hummel? Are you following in your father's trade?"

Kurt saw Blaine wince out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't let himself falter, "No. My father is a firm believer in allowing me and my brother to follow our dreams. He would never trap us in a future where we would be miserable. I enjoy mechanics, but it isn't my passion. He understood that. My family know all too well how short life can be, so we live everyday to the full, because what other way is there to live? Life is a gift; you should make every moment count, or what's the point?"

"Well said, Kurt." Miss Sylvester nodded decisively, and Kurt had to wonder if some of the men weren't a little intimidated by her, as murmurs of agreement echoed round the table.

"To making it count." Blaine raised his glass in a toast, and Kurt's smile only widened.

The ridiculously long dinner finally drew to a close, and one of the older men stood, effectively dismissing the table as the men began to stand. Kurt watched Blaine with interest. For one of the few times that evening, Blaine's eyes were not on him, but rather on Sebastian. Sue leant over, "Now's the time for all the men to retreat into clouds of smoke and drink brandy, to congratulate each other on being masters of the universe."

Kurt had to hold back what would have been a very unseemly snort of laughter. He rose to his feet as well, only to frown as Blaine remained seated. All was revealed a moment later, when Mr Andrews, the ship architect, asked Blaine, "Will you not be joining us, Blaine?"

Blaine opened his mouth, but Sebastian cut across him, "Blaine doesn't do well in talk of business or politics, do you Blaine? Nor does he smoke. My little brother will only be confused and bored. You surely noticed his absence last night?"

Mr Andrews very much looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself at the blank look on Blaine's face. Kurt fumed inside at the disgusting smirky rat's uncanny ability to belittle Blaine in only three sentences. The 'men' departed swiftly, leaving Blaine and Kurt behind. Mrs Anderson gave both a pointed look; clearly telling Blaine to dismiss Kurt, and for Kurt to leave now and don't you dare come back!

Blaine rose to his feet, "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry you have to go."

"Well, we can't over saturate them with my glamorous presence, can we?" Kurt sighed dramatically, taking Blaine's hand to shake it firmly, "Thank you for inviting me. Goodnight Blaine."

Blaine watched miserably as Kurt disappeared, until a second later, he registered a piece of paper, left behind in his palm.

In an elegant script that only an artist's hand could form, was written two simple sentences that filled Blaine will a thrill:

Make it count

Meet me at the clock!

The Sylvester woman was looking at him again, a rather unsettling gleam in her eye as she suddenly stood and requested loudly, "Blaine, would you be a dear and escort me back to my cabin? I'm feeling rather tired."

"Oh! Of course!" He rushed to stand, turning briefly to his mother to bid her a good night. She barely acknowledged him.

He offered the taller woman his arm, which she took obligingly. They walked in silence until the grand foyer. "Well?" Blaine looked up at the bored tone, an exasperated look on the woman's face, "Do you really think a woman like me gets tired? Go on! Get up there, and have some fun for once in your life!" She huffed and stalked away, leaving Blaine staring up the plush staircase in front of him.

He took each step carefully, anticipation and nerves building in him with each inclement. As the little clock began to chime, Kurt turned, framed perfectly in the golden surroundings, a smug smile on his face for having succeeded in getting Blaine to follow him.

"So, you want to go to a real party?"

To Be Continued…