Trust

Chapter Four

“So how was last night?” Nick asks when he finally comes back to the kitchen, scrubbing his eyes and slumping at the table.  “You seemed pretty taken with the guy you brought back.  And pretty loud, too,” he winks as Blaine waves a hand at him. 

Truth be told Blaine had pretended to be asleep while the Kurt look-a-like had gathered his clothes and left the apartment, and now that he’s up and about he doesn’t feel any better, mostly because he can’t remember last night with how drunk he’d been.  Obviously his subconscious had picked a man that bore more than a passing resemblance to Kurt but the truth remains that even though Kurt might be coming back…he’s still just a fellow employee, not a romantic possibility. 

New York is huge, after all.  The chances of Blaine running into him on the street are near impossible and he’s not going to seek him out even though with his name he probably could, but he’s far from a creepy stalker. 

Still, he hasn’t had random sex in months and if this boy is the one thing that causes him to do it there’s obviously something deeper there, even though he’s not quite sure he wants to dwell on that for too long.  It’s probably horribly unprofessional regardless. 

“Don’t remember, honestly,” he finally replies once he’s realized that he’s been so lost in thought as to completely ignore Nick’s question, and the other man shrugs.  “Well you seemed to lock onto that guy pretty fast.  I didn’t know you had such an obvious type, Blaine.”

“I don’t,” Blaine mutters, trying to give off the hint that he really doesn’t want to talk about this, but Nick’s not backing down. 

“Or is it Kurt?  Is that why?  Did he look like Kurt?”

“Yes, now leave me alone,” Blaine’s far too sore and hungover to carry on this conversation and he’s only thankful that he has no classes today, but since it’s devoted to him composing and he doubts he’s going to get any done with the state he’s in that’s little help anyway. 

“Oh, by the way, your work called.  Tonight, nine PM, they’ve got a guy for you.  Not Kurt, of course, but they said his regular is out sick so you’ll have to fill in.”

“Wonderful,” Blaine pushes himself upright and debates getting some painkillers into his system.  “Were you always this irritating or am I just really grumpy?”

“Both.  I have to pick up the slack since Jeff has morning classes,” Nick gives him a grin and Blaine can’t find it in him to stay mad so he stalks off to the bathroom to look for some aspirin. 

He has a feeling today’s going to be Hell.

000

He isn’t wrong. 

The guy they’ve got him working with is stunning, well-muscled with sandy brown hair that falls distractingly into his eyes, and he’s obviously a pro, taking everything Blaine’s giving him with a quiet calm and turning on the act once the cameras start rolling, but to Blaine it’s all so…contrived. 

He knows he’s overacting it all because what he’s doing is not going to elicit such a severe reaction to anybody, and when he finally orgasms it’s with much grunting and groaning and the audience will probably find it exceedingly hot but to Blaine it’s all fake, so fake, and one of the things that had drawn him to Kurt was how real he was.

Every emotion, every movement, every sound he made was honest and the real reactions his body was feeling, and that almost innocent approach is something Blaine knows will sell well for the website.  After all, the kind of orgasms this guy was having would probably cause any man or woman to kick him out of the bedroom for sounding like a rutting bull and Blaine’s never been less turned on even though aesthetically he can’t deny he’s pleasing. 

Still. 

“That was great,” the guy says once they’re done, holding out a hand that Blaine shakes gingerly.  “Hope I see you again,” he winks…winks…before walking out, still stark-naked, and Blaine knows he’s got to get Kurt out of his head before it starts affecting his job. 

“Hey,” one of the cameramen tells him as he’s getting out of his coveralls and taking his hat off, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to get some of the bounce back.  “That guy that was in last week?  The first-timer?  We’ve got the tapes ingested and we were wondering if you wanted to help with the edit.”

And Blaine sighs, because honestly it’s like the universe is out to get him sometimes, but he can’t deny that he wants to.  They don’t ask often but sometimes, especially with people the company doesn’t know, because Blaine and the others that do his job are the closest to the performers they’ll be able to better say what shots to use and what times the performers were more in the moment. 

He hasn’t really done it before because he’s never had regular clients, but he supposes because Kurt specifically requested him should he return it makes sense for him to do it even though, honestly, re-living it through the camera won’t be easy and he doubts he’ll be much help. 

Everything Kurt did had looked perfect, after all. 

“Sure.  Sounds good.  What time are you thinking?” he asks and the man shrugs, glancing to another camera operator. 

“Tomorrow night at eight good for you?  We want to get this out by the weekend,” the other man supplies and Blaine nods, because it doesn’t interfere with anything in his schedule. 

Except writing music, obviously, and he’s going to fail this assignment if he doesn’t start it right away. 

However, Kurt’s more important than any assignment. 

Even though he really shouldn’t be. 

000

The edit doesn’t take as long as he’d first envisioned, which is both a blessing and a curse, but Kurt translates to the screen beautifully, all long pale limbs and a gorgeous sex-flush running down his body, eyes wide and blue and expressive and God, Blaine wants him. 

But he stays professional, picking out proper angles and the best shots, and although he tries to draw it out Kurt really is a natural without realizing it and everything he’s doing is perfect for what they need so it seems all too soon that he’s leaving the building to catch the subway home, leaning against the window and wondering how after all of this he’s actually supposed to concentrate on his schoolwork. 

Of course, he can always use Kurt for inspiration. 

He’s already tried everything else. 

000

It’s about a week later when it happens, and he’s proud to say that he’s almost, almost lost his strange fascination with Kurt in that time.  His work has been going better and his assignment is actually going to be handed in on-time, but Jeff and Nick had kicked him out of the apartment (because apparently they couldn’t have sex while he was scribbling at the table) and so here he was out for coffee with Wes, who hasn’t changed at all since high school. 

“What’s bothering you?” the older man asks, tilting his head to the side, hands wrapped around his cup of take-out coffee as they sit in the little café.  “School?  Or something to do with this mysterious job of yours?”

And yes, while Nick and Jeff know what he does and beg him to let them watch all of his shows (mostly so they can make fun of his extremely unflattering clothing or, as Jeff says, get new ideas for the bedroom…Blaine doesn’t really want to think about that one too hard) Wes knows nothing because, well, Wes would probably not approve and it’s best to not get into a lengthy discussion (see: very one-sided discussion) about how pornography is immoral and all of the legal aspects of it. 

Yes, Wes is going to law school.  With his obsession with that damn gavel it surprises nobody.   

“My job’s not mysterious, Wes, you’d just find it boring,” Blaine smiles, because it’s not really a lie.  Wes certainly wouldn’t find it interesting, that’s for sure.  “How’s school?”

“You’re deflecting,” Wes narrows his eyes and Blaine wonders if he can read minds because honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him.  “It is about your job, then.”

“It’s not about my job,” Blaine says immediately because, at its heart, it isn’t.  He may have met Kurt on the job but his fondness toward him since then has nothing to do with work and everything to do with the man himself.  “It’s…about a guy.”

“Boyfriend?” Wes quirks an eyebrow and Blaine has to roll his eyes because why does everybody assume that?  Just because he hasn’t dated since high school doesn’t mean he’s going to cling onto the first good-looking guy he sees and proclaim them to be in a relationship. 

“No,” Blaine says immediately with an exaggerated sigh.  “I barely know him, Wes.  I saw him once.”

“Blaine,” Wes says firmly. “I saw how you were with that manager at the Gap, remember?  You’re acting the same way.  When you fall, you fall ridiculously hard.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blaine shrugs.  “It’s not important, I probably won’t see him again, just leave it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a boyfriend, Blaine,” Wes says gently and Blaine looks up to meet his eyes.  “I never really knew Sebastian personally…he started the year after I graduated, but…I think if you’ve found somebody you like and you don’t embarrass yourself by climbing on furniture and singing a song about sex toys to them…”

Blaine blushes at that because yes, true, but that’s not what he’s like anymore.  He’s far more world-wise than he was back in Ohio and no, he’d never serenade somebody in public like that. 

“What I mean is, if he makes you happy, there’s nothing wrong with seeking him out and trying something.  You obviously like him,” Wes smiles at him, barely a twitch of his mouth but it’s more emotion than he usually displays so Blaine knows he’s being serious. 

“I know,” he finally admits.  “It’s just…complicated.”

“Love always is,” Wes goes back to drinking his coffee and Blaine’s not going to call him on that last statement because this thing with Kurt might be a crush, an aesthetic appreciation of his body, but it can’t be love when he knows next to nothing about the younger man. 

The bell above the door jingling has him turning on instinct, and his breath catches when none other than Kurt Hummel walks through the door, dressed like he’s just come from a fashion magazine shoot.  Windswept hair and a casually tied scarf around his neck, sunglasses firmly in place, wearing skinny jeans that look damn near painted on and calf-high leg-hugging boots and a black slimming trench that flares out slightly at the back. 

Okay, so the sloppy jeans-and-a-t-shirt he’d worn to the shoot hadn’t been his actual attire, then, and Blaine’s kind of thankful for that because the view is much nicer this way. 

He’s with a small girl wearing a garish bright-red coat and a white beanie, latched onto his arm and talking a mile a minute but Blaine’s 99% sure she’s just a friend because there is no way that Kurt is a straight man. 

He watches them while they grab their coffees, leaning in closely to hear Kurt’s order (medium non-fat mocha, he memorizes) before they’re picking up their drinks and taking them to-go, and he’s just grateful Wes has gone back to reading the newspaper and hasn’t noticed the whole incident. 

He would have figured it out otherwise. 

000

Blaine stays away from that particular coffee shop for the next few days so as not to look horribly creepy and stalker-ish, and while he presumes Kurt lives in the area (and yes, the knowledge does make his stomach squirm pleasurably) he’s not going to do anything about it. 

That is, until he gets a phone call telling him that ‘the boy you had a couple of weeks ago wants to come back again, is Friday okay for you?’ and he knows he has to go through it all over again. 

He can’t really be too disappointed, though.