The foggy New York sky was the first thing to greet Blaine Anderson when he woke up. He sighed; how depressing. He didn’t want to deal with the damper the dark gray clouds would put on his mood if he looked at them for too long, so he rolled over in bed to feast his eyes on one of his favorite sights in the world: his boyfriend of four years, Kurt Hummel, asleep. Because they’d been spooning, it was a miracle Blaine hadn’t woken Kurt up when he’d turned over. He’s so beautiful when he’s sleeping. Blaine thought Kurt was beautiful no matter what he did.

How, Blaine wondered, had he gotten so lucky as to have Kurt? Blaine’s whole body thrummed with happiness when he looked back on high school; meeting Kurt, kissing Kurt for the first time, singing with Kurt, losing his virginity with Kurt, and all the other wonderful experiences they’d had together. He still couldn’t believe Kurt had chosen to ask him for help that fateful day, out of all those identical preppy boys at Dalton.

“You were the prettiest,” mumbled a very groggy Kurt. His lips barely moved as he spoke.

Blaine was taken by surprise; he hadn’t realized he'd been thinking out loud.

“I’m absolutely certain that you are very, very wrong,” Blaine cooed, kissing his boyfriend on the forehead. “No one is prettier than Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt gave Blaine a sweet smile. “Aw, you sweet-talker.”

“Only for you, babe,” Blaine replied, voice heavy with certainty.

They laid in bed for another ten minutes, kissing and bantering, until Blaine looked at the clock. It read 6:00.

“We should get up,” Kurt suggested, but neither he nor his body showed absolutely no signs of wanting to get out of bed anytime in the near future. “You’ve got to go caffeinate the Upper West Side masses, and I’ve got to talk Rachel down from whatever tizzy she’ll be in today...oh, yeah, and go to class.”

Kurt and Rachel were, of course, still best friends, and going to NYADA together had only made them stronger. However, Rachel was still marginally insane, and Kurt still had to be very and extremely patient. Unfairly patient. Blaine felt for him, but he loved Rachel, too, despite all her crazy. They both did.

“Mmm, nooooo.” Blaine buried his face in Kurt’s neck. “Can’t we just keep makin’ out for, like, five more minutes? Just two more hours. Babe, all I need is, like, twelve hours, and then you can go to NYADA and I can go to work.”

The two burst out laughing, holding each other close. Finally, Kurt pulled away.

“Oh, Blaine. You,” he poked his boyfriend’s chest, “are,” another poke, “adorable.” He gave Blaine a quick kiss on the mouth before jumping out of bed. “I’ll go make the coffee.”

Blaine smiled at Kurt’s back. “You’re the best,” he told Kurt. In spite of the fact that making coffee was in Blaine’s day job description, he still liked Kurt’s coffee better. Maybe that was just because he loved Kurt so much that everything he did shot straight to the top of Blaine's "favorites" list.

Later, after they’d both gotten dressed, they sat together on the couch, identical coffee mugs in hand. Blaine had an arm wrapped around Kurt from behind and Kurt’s head was in the crook of Blaine’s shoulder.

“I know I’ve been with you for four years, and I’ve lived with you for long enough,” Blaine began, “but I still find it funny that I get ready in half the time you do.” He chuckled.

“Perfection takes time...for me,” Kurt replied, explaining away his elaborate ritual. “All you have to do is wake up.” He pressed a small kiss to Blaine’s jawline.

“Liar,” Blaine retorted. “I have to put on my sexy.” He ran a hand across his shellacked head.

“So, yeah, just wake up,” Kurt insisted, positively beaming up at his boyfriend.

Blaine pouted. “Kurt! You know what I mean.” He pointed to his head, giving Kurt a look that seemed to say "um, duh."

“Yeah, what is that? Rubber cement?” Kurt joked, poking Blaine in the side. “Baby, your natural hair is sexy, too. You’re sexy no matter how your hair looks!”

“Mmm. Look who’s talking,” Blaine murmured, setting his coffee down and turning to face Kurt. “You’re so beautiful.” He placed his hands on either side of his boyfriend’s face and kissed him fiercely, sneaking his tongue in Kurt’s mouth and making him moan.

Blaine’s magnificent plan to keep the two of them at home all day--together all day, which was a rare occurrence for them--was thwarted when Kurt turned his head away from Blaine’s seeking lips.

“Babe, it’s 7:20. Your shift starts in forty minutes--oh, mmm--no, baby, you’ve got to go,” Kurt protested as Blaine kissed a line down his neck. “Go make people’s coffee dreams come true.”

Blaine grinned. “You know I will. C’mon, honey.” He proffered his hand, and Kurt took it, standing up and walking with Blaine to the doorway. “I’ll walk you to NYADA.” Kurt grabbed his messenger bag, and Blaine did the same. Their two bags were almost identical in color, but Kurt’s had far more pockets; fitting, as it held tuning forks, pitch pipes, books, sheet music, folders, and who knew what else.

“Look who’s the sweetest?” Kurt cooed, opening the door and waving Blaine through.

“Meeeee,” Blaine sang, taking Kurt’s hand and holding it all the way to NYADA’s Vocal Performance building. On the way, they passed Bean Cuisine, the cozy, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop-cum-sandwichery where Blaine worked. They giggled at the frantic wave that the one and only Finn Hudson, brother of Kurt and coworker-slash-friend of Blaine, gave them from inside the tiny building. He and Rachel were engaged again, as everyone knew they would be. Kurt and Blaine both prayed they’d actually go through with it this time, considering that they were much better equipped to handle a marriage at twenty-two than at eighteen.

“You’re gonna be la-aaate,” Kurt sang as they approached the school, slipping his hands into Blaine’s back pockets and squeezing his ass.

“And yet, when you’re doing that, I can’t bring myself to care.” Blaine smiled up at Kurt, leaning up to give him one last kiss before they parted for the day.

“I love you, Blaine.” Kurt stroked his boyfriend’s cheek.

“I love you, Kurt. You’re a star. Remember that. Have a great day.” Blaine kissed Kurt again, smiling against his boyfriend’s soft lips.

“You, too, baby. Give my love to Finn.”

With that, they parted for the day; Kurt off to Rachel and Madam Tibideaux and whatever dramatics the day would bring, and Blaine off to six hours of conversing with Finn, making countless lattes, and avoiding the wrath of his boss, whose leadership style was much like that of one Sue Sylvester. Blaine missed her, in a weird way.

- - -

The first one came on Blaine's phone, about three hours into his shift at Bean Cuisine. The shop's silly name stemmed from the fact that they served freshly made sandwiches, in addition to coffee of absolutely all kinds.

"Anderson, you better not be on that phone right now," shouted his boss, Gina. "You were already late, and you know how that thrills me." Blaine's phone went immediately into his pocket; Though she was normally a very sweet woman, Gina's "warning voice" would scare even the guy from 300 stiff. He remained curious, though. He hadn't even gotten a chance to see what it was. This was an unusually slow morning; Blaine had sold exactly four lattes--and one nonfat mocha, which only served to deepen the Kurt-shaped hole in his heart that made itself known whenever they were apart.

Finn snuck up behind him. "Boo!" he shouted, but Blaine didn't move a muscle.

Blaine turned around, smiling at his friend. "Finn, you know I love ya, but you're so completely unscary." 

"I know, I know," Finn conceded, laughing. "Especially not compared to Gina. Thankfully, our break is in ten minutes, and that'll give you some time to read that sext from Kurt." Finn chuckled suggestively, poking Blaine in the side. "Or, you know, whatever it was."

"I'm totally telling him you said that," Blaine teased. "I can't believe you would think such a thing about your brother!" Blaine held his hand to his heart, mocking every B-list actress out there. "My stars, Finn Hudson, you are a strange young man."

Finn just grinned. "Okay, you know it was something like that, Blaine. I know how you two are. Rachel knows how you two are, and you can bet she was right next to him while he typed that shit."

"Oh, yeah. For sure." Blaine rolled his eyes. "It was not a sext. We don't do tha--okay, fine. Only at night, and even then, only when we're apart."

Finn wasn't listening, however; right after Blaine had started to backtrack on his "we don't do that," he had plugged his ears and started shouting "LALALALALALALALA" as loud as he realistically could, given the setting and his boss's New York temperament. All Blaine could do was laugh. That's Finn for you, he thought to an imaginary audience; the audience that was trapped in the neverending production that was his life.

Eight minutes later, when he finally sat down at the corner table for his break, Blaine pulled out his phone to read whatever had made it buzz earlier.

1 New Email, his screen told him. Blaine dutifully opened the email app, touching the screen where it read "Refresh" (because his phone was an asshole, as he often reminded himself), and touching the New Email icon. It was, indeed, from Kurt, but it wasn't e-sex. It was beautiful.

- - -

From: Kurt Hummel '16 (hummelk@nyada.edu)
To: Blaine Anderson (the.man.with.the.gel@bmail.com)
Subj: Missing you

dramatics seem a bit trite right now, to be honest
i've got this void in my brainheartmusclesbones
that all the Berrys in the world can't alleviate (but oh, how they try)
i've got this ache like a heartbeatpulseconstantbeepbeepbeep
that can't be shaken (not even by a rousing HUMMEL, WAKE UP from the master of our master class)
i've got this man, god, he's radiantflawlessperfectsososobeautiful
and he is, famously, sex on a stick (sings like a dream)
it's impossible to argue with that logic, even if it came from a despicablepromiscuousconniving S.O.B. like him
(i still hate him)
but i love you, darling
more than you will ever know

- - -

"Blaine? Blaine, why are you crying?"

Finn's soft voice broke Blaine out of his Kurt-induced trance. His friend was sitting next to him at the table, watching him stare at his phone. Sure enough, as Blaine touched his face, it was wet. God, Anderson, you're so whipped, his brain taunted him.

There's nothing else I'd rather be, he shot back telepathically.

"Oh, um...nothing," Blaine mumbled before looking at Finn's face: so concerned, so caring. "It's good, Finn."

Finn raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Sexting made you cry?"

Blaine giggled, patting Finn on the back. "No, no, no. Get your damn mind out of the gutter. Your wonderful, beautiful, eloquent, articulate, hot, se--"

"LALALALALALALALA!"

Blaine poked Finn's cheek, and he unplugged his ears. "You done?" Finn asked, smirking.

"Yes. Anyway, your brother wrote me a very romantic poem." He chuckled. "He's amazing."

"He loves you," Finn replied, his voice heavy and earnest. "He loves you more than he's ever loved anything."

"And I feel the exact same way about him." Blaine beamed up at Finn. "I'm so lucky."

"You are."

The two friends grinned at each other like idiots until Blaine's phone buzzed again.

1 New Text Message

Sexy: save me a humongo nonfat mocha, will ya, babe?

"Okay. Blaine. Kurt's in your phone as Sexy? Is that really a thing?"

"Right now, he is. Last month, he was Sugarmuffin."

Finn groaned. "You two. Jesus."

"You totally love us," Blaine singsonged. "C'mon, Mister Rachel Berry. Break's over."