Blaine was the first to wake up the second time that morning.  He took the moment while Kurt slept to just admire.

Kurt, long and lean, stretched out on his stomach, head pillowed in the crook of Blaine’s elbow.  The soft shh of his breath tickled against the sensitive skin.

If not for the breathing and his memories of the prior night, Blaine wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been a sculptor preening over his masterpiece in the corner of his bedroom.  Kurt’s skin might have been the finest of alabaster, smooth and both soft and hard, delicately pale over toned muscle.  From the crown of his head to the bottom of his feet, Kurt was sculpted, the definition of well-worked muscle evident without being overbearing.

Eyes roving back up, lingering on the leg thrown over the sheet draped from the top of his thigh over his ass, he allowed himself to wonder about the possibility that Kurt, the Kurt in his bed and the Kurt he had talked to for hours, could be a constant in his life. 

Obviously, he would need to get to know him more—honestly know, not use the family’s connections.  And clearing up the Sebastian nonsense before falling too deeply would be good.  But, if he was honest with himself, that might be a problem.

But at that particular moment, well-fucked with an Adonis making soft groans as he stretched in his sleep, dark blue sheet slipping from the curve of his ass before settling closer to him, Blaine couldn’t bring himself to care.

Wincing as the move pulled at his shoulder, Blaine turned slightly to face Kurt, running his fingers through unfairly thick, silky tresses, all Blaine wanted to do was never leave his bed.

A few minutes later of Blaine knowing he should feel weird about watching Kurt as he slept but only wanting to write songs about him, Kurt hummed and stretched, eyes blinking sleepily.

“Good morning”

Kurt hummed again before speaking.  “’Morning.”

Blaine couldn’t help the smile as Kurt blinked slowly to clear his eyes.

“Thank you for last night.”

Kurt’s eyes drifted closed, long eyelashes fanning out.  There was one that had dropped free, resting against his cheekbone, nearly begging Blaine to reach out.  And, being bad with impulse control when it came to Kurt, he did, thumb brushing the lash away.  Kurt opened his eyes at the touch, meeting Blaine’s gaze.  Both boys smiled at each other, Blaine’s thumb still stroking as his heart melted.

When Kurt looked away, eyes probably searching for the clock, Blaine felt his stomach clench painfully.  This would be when they awkwardly cleaned up, dressed, and said their goodbyes, generally without exchanging numbers.

Just like the other hookups.

But Blaine really didn’t want to never see Kurt again.  He really hoped Kurt felt the same.

“Shower and some breakfast?  And my brother might have left some clothes you should fit if you would like.  I don’t know how you are about re-wearing clothes two days running but you strike me as—”

Kurt’s lips, closed and gentle against his own silenced his ramblings.  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re cute when you’re nervous?”  A hand on his chest made whatever response he had had fly from his mind.  “Yes to all the above.”

He closed his hand around Kurt’s where it rested against his chest.  “This would involve moving, wouldn’t it?”

“Sadly, yes.  You did suggest it.”

With a dramatic sigh that made the corners of Kurt’s mouth quirk up, Blaine sat up, making the other man flop back down as his pillow (Blaine’s arm) moved.  “Uh-uh.  You too.  You’re the one who wanted cleanliness and food.”

“Stop being right.”  Kurt levered himself up with a groan.  Grinning too broadly at the movement, Blaine hopped out of bed, letting his hips sway as he walked slowly to the bathroom, the other man’s gaze hot against his back.  He was sore, and in the best possible way.

He met Kurt’s eye over his should when he reached the bathroom door.  “You know, I redid my bathroom when I moved in.  The shower fits two now.”

Kurt’s lips stretched, a smile lighting up his face and eyes darkening before Blaine turned around, continuing into the bathroom to start (hopefully) their shower. 

Fresh towels and toothbrush resting on the counter, steam spilled from behind the curtain as he stood up...into a very firm Kurt.  Hands that looked even paler and bigger than they were stroked down his chest, settling to rub at his hips, tracing the indent lazily as Kurt’s mouth descended on the side of his neck, worrying a mark into the skin.

Blaine reluctantly pulled out of Kurt’s arms, tugging at a leather covered wrist, leading the way into the shower. 

“Oh.  I should—”  Kurt tugged back out of Blaine’s hold to wrestle the cuff off his wrist, presenting Blaine his denuded wrist after setting the cuff safely on the counter.

Blaine had always enjoyed sharing a shower with his lover, taking the time to re-explore while wiping clean the less pleasant remainders of their previous rounds.  And he had every intention of doing just that, slowly using the knowledge he had gleaned about Kurt’s body to his best advantage.  He relished the thought of Kurt’s wet skin, water beading and suds sliding down, mimicking his mouth so many hours before.

That was until both their stomachs reminded them loudly that neither had eaten a dinner more substantial than a handful of nuts at the bar.  After Blaine’s growled particularly ferociously, causing both men to double over in fits of giggles, Kurt nearly knocking over the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, one shared look decided they should probably bathe quickly and eat before resuming their mutual exploration. 

After they shampooed each other.  That wasn’t really bathing.

Kurt’s hair was soft beneath his fingers, lather washing away when he urged him back under the spray, both men humming contentedly as Blaine worked.

When Kurt returned the favor, the confident swirls of fingers against his scalp had Blaine purring, melting into the hard body behind him.

“Maybe, if we want to eat, we should wash ourselves separately.”  And because his fingers and groin tingled at the prospect of washing Kurt, slick muscle and skin yielding underneath them, Blaine knew Kurt was right.

As it turned out, watching Kurt bathe himself was torture enough.  Long, strong fingers rubbing the loofah across his body, the trail of suds sliding down lean, long legs, taking with it the reminders of rounds one and two.

Kurt giving the loofah back to him startled him out of his reverie.  Closing his eyes to Kurt’s heated gaze from under the showerhead as he rinsed himself of conditioner and suds, Blaine scrubbed hastily, taking Kurt’s vacated place under the water after Kurt stepped out.

Blaine followed quickly, shivering as he wrapped the towel around himself, drying off.

The sight of Kurt already by the sink brushing his teeth, so domestic and boring, was entirely too appealing.

Willing his overeager cock to ignore the heat now pooling again at the base of his spine, he slung the towel back around his hips, tucking it in securely before stepping up next to Kurt.  Perfectly timed, Blaine wet his toothbrush right before Kurt needed to rinse his mouth out.  And he hadn’t even been trying for timing.

When he straightened, Blaine failing miserably at ignoring the shift of muscles in Kurt’s back, Kurt gestured to the bottle of saline.  “May I?”

Blaine tried to say “Go ahead” around the toothbrush and foam.  But Kurt just stared.  So he settled on nodding enthusiastically.  And he probably had a spare case…Toothbrush hanging from his mouth, he tapped Kurt’s hip to get him to move…Ahh.  Yes.  There.  He stood up, door to the cabinet and case falling to the counter clicking at the same time.

“Oh.  Thanks.  But I’m just going to pop them back in.  I don’t have my glasses and I’m blinder than a bat.”

Blaine nodded, brushing resumed as the desire to watch Kurt, biceps flexing as his hand moved in tiny circles, muscles of his back moving as he lifted his arm to pop the contact back in, repeating the process for the other side.  He stepped back obligingly when Blaine moved back to the sink so he could rinse him mouth out.

Deciding Kurt had had a good idea, he did the same thing, happily feeling Kurt watching him as he peeled the bits of plastic off his eyes.  Bubbles filled his stomach when he sought and met Kurt’s eyes in the mirror, drinking in the blush that splashed across his cheeks and ears at being caught.

“Now, let’s see where Cooper put his clothes.”  What he didn’t say was this was where Coop was to come as his safe house.  If it was determined more prudent for him to be here than trying to get to the house—which hadn’t happened, Cooper just liked to be ready—he would arrive on Blaine’s doorstep until they got the all clear.  It had, of course, nothing to do with Coop’s ability to take care of himself.  But in his position as underboss, certain measures to ensure his personal safety for the sake of the family were important.

“Oh, that’s okay.  I can just wear what I had on.  I have really sensitive skin, so I have to use a special detergent.”

“Good to know.”  And it really was.  If he did this…dating thing, he’d want to know that.  Already he wanted to know everything possible about Kurt.

They look at each other for a minute, gazes flicking down to the other’s kiss-swollen mouths multiple times before they step closer, mouths slotting perfectly.  The once-lingering burn of vodka is gone, obliterated by the nearly overpowering mint of the toothpaste.  Kurt broke off the kiss first, stepping back again, smiling and biting his lip before turning and leaving the cramped space of the bathroom doorway, probably in search of his underwear.

Two breaths, slow and deep, pulled Blaine back into himself even as he felt scattered by the whirlwind that is Kurt Hummel.

In his re-centering as the bewildering man in question fumbled around the living room for his scattered belongings, Blaine’s bladder spoke up.  Closing the door, Blaine relieved himself, thankful his cock was soft enough for it.  Hands washed and toilet flushed he wandered back into his bedroom.

Clad only in his undershirt and boxer briefs, a lush, dark purple pair that looked sinful against the fresh cream of his thighs, Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Blaine dressed to match.  “You realize the only reason I am not pinning you to the bed and blowing you within an inch of your sanity is that we will both faint from starvation before we come, right?”

“Oh, yes.  I am well aware of that.  But I was thinking that I didn’t pay enough attention to your dick last night.  I should be blowing you.”  The blue of Kurt’s eyes had receded, now only a thin border around lust-blown eyes. 

“As appealing as either of those options are, I think we decided breakfast was next.”

“Mmm.  Food sounds like a good plan.  Maybe even better than you, no offense.”

“None taken.  I should have things for pancakes or scrambled eggs if you’d like.  I should even still have bread if you want toast.”

“Scrambled eggs sound delicious.  And I am fine without toast, but I won’t be offended if you want some.”

Dressed and towel hung up to dry, Blaine retreated to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and their eggs.  The sound of the toilet flushing and sink running preceded Kurt’s arrival in the kitchen, where he leaned up against the counter to watch Blaine as he worked.

The little room was quiet except for the gurgling of the coffee pot and the sizzle of the eggs, but comfortably so.  Blaine would have been happy to talk, but, just like in the bathroom, he was completely at ease working in the comfortable silence with Kurt in the room, watching him.

It was odd, but good.

“Where are the mugs?”  Kurt spoke over the gurgling coffee pot as it finished brewing.

“Cabinet right over the pot.”

“How do you take your coffee?”   Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Kurt pulling down the mugs and pouring the coffee as he spoke. 

“Light on the sugar and milk until it’s tan.”

“Tan?”  Kurt had stirred in the sugar and had crossed to the fridge for the milk. 

“About the color of my skin.  I’m not overly picky.”

Kurt poured the milk, stirring again before dropping the spoon into the sink, setting Blaine’s cup next to him, turning and leaning against the counter. 

Blaine looked up when Kurt moaned after he sipped, eyebrows raised.  “What?”

“What is this coffee?  What is your secret?  It is delicious.”

“Umm.  Bag’s on the shelf below the mugs, so feel free to check.  It was a present from my parents, a leftover from…something.”

“Well, they have good taste in coffee.”

“Yes, they do.  Could you grab the plates?  They should be—k0; Blaine gestures as he pulled the pan off the burner.

“Of course.”  The plates appear next to the stove, Kurt searching the drawers for flatware, a joyful “There they are” cried when the correct drawer was located.

They sit caddy corner at the table, turned towards each other and feet tangling as they eat.  The conversation, ranging across every topic Blaine thought was possible and more flowed smoothly.  It felt as if they had known each other forever: everything down to their conversation just worked.

As they were finishing their second cups of coffee, plates long empty their talking was interrupted by the tinny sound of “Rio” coming from Blaine’s phone, which must have been left in his bag last night.

 “Sorry.  I need to get that.  It’s my brother.”  Standing, he made his way to where the bag had dropped by the door.

“What, Cooper?”

“Hello to you too, squirt.  I was just checking to see how your date went last night.”

“Going, Coop.  Still going.”

“Blainey!  Fucking him on the first date?  I didn’t know you had it in you.  You haven’t said anything about…”

“Coop.  Not now, okay?  And of course not.  I’m not an idiot.”

“Okay.  Just wanted to remind you about talking to Will later.  Jesse will text you the time in a few.  It will probably be soon, so send Kurt on his way.”

“Can I go finish my breakfast now?”

“Sure. Just remember to have your phone close when you’re blowing him so you aren’t late for the meet.  And not a word about where you’re going.  You can’t bring him.”

“Whatever, Cooper.  Bye.”

“Bye, Blainey.”  He ended the call, frown creasing his forehead as he stared at the phone in his hand.

“Is it going to explode if you keep staring, because that would be pretty damn cool.”  Kurt was amused and questioning from his place at the table.  “Or is this your way of telling me your last name isn’t Anderson”— Blaine’s breath caught in his throat—“but Stark?”

That drew a chuckle from him.  “No.  I wish.  It was just my brother reminding me about something I have to do this afternoon.”

“Oh?  Can you elaborate?”

Fuck.  If they were further into their relationship, then maybe Blaine would come clean.  “It’s a long, boring story.  Just family stuff.”

“Ahh.  Okay.”  Thankfully, Kurt didn’t seem too hurt over what must have looked like the lie it was.

The rest of breakfast passed smoothly, conversation picking up where it had left off.  Thankfully, Kurt didn’t pry into what Blaine needed to do later that afternoon, following when Blaine steered them away from that topic.

Plates and coffee cups washed and put away, Blaine and Kurt had migrated to the couch, sitting sideways.  Their bare knees touched and every so often one of them would stroke at the skin of the other’s thigh or reach out and brush the other’s arm while making a point.

Cheek resting in his cupped hand as he watched Kurt speak, really watched, Blaine came to his decision.  If he said goodbye to the man across from him right now he would mourn the loss.  If he had to say goodbye after a month with days like that one, he didn’t know how broken he would be. 

But this, if he read the situation and his feelings right, could be it.  Logic could go fuck a duck.  This moment, this man, felt right and he never wanted to say goodbye to it.

An insistent poking to his ribs knocked him out of his thoughts.  “Am I boring you?”

“What?  Kurt, it may be a little early to say this, but I don’t think you could ever bore me.”  The words rushed from his mouth before he could stop them.

Kurt looked a little surprised, flushing at the words.  “Oh.  Um.  No.  I...I could say the same about you.”

“You don’t have to, you know. It is only the first date.”

Kurt’s lips were soft against his, the kiss as sweet as it was brief.  “Blaine, I’d really like to see you again.”

His heart was jumping with joy, his smile too wide to kiss Kurt properly.  But that didn’t stop him from trying.  He could feel Kurt’s answering smile against his lips.  And then Kurt was pulling away, smiling again before reaching for Blaine’s phone, ringing insistently from its place on the coffee table where Blaine had set it (in case Jesse finally got around to texting).

“You should answer it.”

“But then I’ll have to leave.”

“You will.  But we knew that would happen.  And the world isn’t ending tomorrow.  Didn’t I just say that I wanted to see you again?”

Blaine ducked his head and leaned in close to kiss the side of Kurt’s neck, mumbling the words against the skin.  “True.  You want me to answer it.”

“Mmm”—Blaine sucked hard at the skin under Kurt’s ear.  Was it a bit childish for a man his age to be leaving such a visible hickey?  Yes.  Did he care?  Not at all.—“No. I want you to keep doing what you’re doing.  But you should answer your phone.  It could be important.”

He was probably right.  Blaine pulled off Kurt with a sigh, taking the phone and looking at who had texted.

Jesse.

“You must be psychic.”

“Hmmm?”  Blaine rolled his head into the fingers tangled in his hair, kissing the inside of Kurt’s wrist before looking back at the text.

They were meeting in two hours at the Atherton house.  It took an easy hour to get there, but he didn’t want to be late. 

“You have to go, don’t you?”

“Yeah.  I do.  Soon.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I took off work until Monday.  I don’t have any plans this weekend if you’ll be free after.”

“I’ll probably end up staying at my brother’s tonight.  Maybe tomorrow, after my gig?”  Blaine was cautiously hopeful.  This was territory he was unfamiliar with.

“I would like that”—Kurt kissed the tip of his nose—“I would like that very much.  Now, go get dressed.”

When Blaine didn’t move, Kurt disentangled himself and stood up.  Blaine watched Kurt move through the room, retrieving his scattered clothes.  “Pick your jaw off the floor.”  Kurt shimmied into his unfairly tight pants. 

“How did you…”

“Magic.”

“Magic.  Of course.  Makes complete sense.”  Blaine wanted Kurt to always be smiling like that, eyes shining as he shrugged on his shirt.  Blaine sighed as the buttons, deftly fastened, sealed the beautiful expanse of Kurt’s chest and arms away from him. 

“You’ll live.  You’re seeing me tomorrow.  You can last that long.  Now, come on.  Up you get. You need to get dressed and do whatever family thing you need to do.”  Kurt’s hand was warm in his, smooth, and dry.  His hands fell to Kurt’s slim hips tugging them closer together before burying his nose in Kurt’s neck.  Which smelled absolutely delicious.  “Stop.  Blaine.  You need to go be productive.”

“M’brother’s ah idit.  Don’t need ta.” 

“What?”

Blaine stopped nuzzling and followed the pull of Kurt’s hands back.  “My brother’s an idiot.  I don’t need to go.”

“You probably do.  And if you’re going to come over to my place tomorrow night, I need to clean and buy food to cook for you.”

He blinked a few times to decide if he heard Kurt correctly.  One look at the smile on Kurt’s face he knew he had.  “Okay.  That sounds…that sounds amazing.”

“Good.  Now, get dressed and tell me about any foods you are allergic to or despise.”  Blaine followed the tug around his wrist as Kurt led him into his bedroom, catching himself when he was pushed gently towards his closet.  Pulling clothes out, he did as instructed, running through the short list of what he can’t eat without a hospital visit (shellfish) and what he really would rather not eat (anything too far outside mainstream and no wild game.  He had never gotten over Bambi). 

Blaine tucked in his shirt and shrugged on a cardigan, turning to see what Kurt thought.  He thought it was a good outfit. But he wanted Kurt to think he looked good.

And they had only gone out once, less than 24 hours ago.

He was such a goner.

How could he not be, the way Kurt was looking at him, eyes raking his now clothed body as if Blaine was the first meal he had seen in a week?

“Does this meet with your approval, Mr. I-am-in-fashion?”  He spun slowly on the spot, allowing Kurt to take him in.

Kurt didn’t answer immediately, taking his time to approach Blaine while his eyes still roamed.  Blaine opened his mouth to re-ask his question, the words catching when Kurt’s mouth descended on his, hotter and dirtier than Blaine could have prepared for, and gone too soon.  “You look delicious.”

Neck arched as Kurt kissed his way down and pulled Blaine into him, hands confident on his ass.  Again, Kurt pulled back too soon, voice rough and broken against Blaine’s ear.  “And we should leave before I fuck you against the wall.”

He wasn’t able to control his sigh as he stepped back to dab on cologne and grab socks and shoes, collapsing on the bed to finish dressing.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Kurt in the bathroom fiddling with his hair. 

“Feel free to use whatever products you need.”

A grateful smile was flashed at him, Kurt reaching for a container and running the product through his hair, pulling it up and away from his forehead. 

Shoes on, he leaned back and watched, reveling in the simple, easy domesticity they had fallen into.  Annoyingly, a loud alien like sound came from the other room.  Cooper had texted again.  Probably wondering where he was.

And he really didn’t care.  Though the possible resurfacing of the lost Picasso was intriguing.  So was getting Kurt back into his bed.

Somehow, and Blaine wasn’t really sure how (seeing as both of them really wanted nothing more than to give the other an orgasm), Kurt managed to get them both out the door and down the stairs.

“I will be at your show tomorrow, then we’ll go back to my place?”  The unsure quaver in Kurt’s voice needed to be kissed away.  So Blaine did just that.

“I will look for you in your normal place.”

“What?”  Kurt pulled back, brows furrowed.

“Yeah.  Bar where you can see the exits.”

“Huh.  I never realized that.”

“Now you do.  And if you are really going to force me to go, I need to leave now.  Which way are you headed?”

Their final goodbyes (for the day) came at the subway station, a quick kiss and a hurried grope before heading in opposite directions.

------

Three hours later Blaine loosened his bowtie and collapsed onto the sofa in his office.  Ten seconds later (he counted) the creak of paneling signaled Cooper’s arrival.

“You could walk out your door and down the hall like normal people do, Coop.”

“B, I am not normal people.  We are not normal people.  Normal people do not have billion dollar mansions with secret passages.  We are enjoying them for the benefit of the little people who are not us.  Now”—Cooper swung the chair around, straddling it to face him—“Tell me about Will and the Picasso.”

“Can’t I have five minutes to process?  I’ll write my report then.”

“No.  Now.  You shouldn’t be taking the break anyway.  I need facts, then your judgment, not the facts clouded by your judgment.  If you are tired, you shouldn’t have spent last night fucking your newest conquest.  And your door needs greasing.  Do that before dinner tonight.”

Fuck.  Now a five minute break was too much?  And Coop had seemed almost okay with the fact he had found someone when he had called earlier. 

“Blaine.”  The lightness of Cooper’s tone was betrayed by the hardness of his eyes.

He wanted to tell Coop that he was taking this all too seriously.  But this was Cooper’s life.  This was all he had ever wanted out of life.  He had never strayed from what their parents—father—desired for him.  And he had gotten it.  His role as underboss fit him like a well-tailored suit.

“Short version.”—Blaine sat up, facing his brother’s cool gaze.—“Will saw the painting.  It is, to his eyes, either the real thing or an excellent forgery.  It matches all accounts we have of the painting.”

“Any sign of damage?”

“Surprisingly good condition.  Nothing that would make it unsellable.  Most noticeably the canvas looked to have been cut, but according to Will, nothing else worth mentioning. 

“What was the plan for it?”

“Will is to scout for foreign buyers, dropping hints that he has it and letting the rumors spread to drive up the price.  Smythe doesn’t seem to want to move it just yet, but his Lopez seemed to be pushing for a closer date.”

“Tell Will we’ll pay him double if he coughs up the names of possible buyers—”

“Already done.  And we are getting plans ready to move in if the suits show.”

“Which they will, because that’s what suits do.”

“I’ll write up my official report now.  There should be a copy on your desk in an hour.”

“Good.  Dinner is at normal time.  We’ll have our meeting after it.  It’ll run late this week in light of this situation.   Father wants each of us to debrief in addition to a walkthrough of all reports.”

“Okay.”  Cooper got up, swinging the chair back to its original position and leaves. 

Heaving a sigh, Blaine levered up off the couch (which really isn’t that comfortable anyway), and sat in the chair before his desk, waking his computer up and starting his report.

Some time later his phone beeped at him.  No one texted him.  He didn’t really have people he had such relationships with.  Mind still whirring with Spadary and Picasso problems, he unlocked his phone.

Kurt.

“Miss you already.  Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.  I hope your family isn’t driving you crazy.”

He smiled blissfully at his phone for a few seconds, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach a nice change.  He typed out a response: “I miss you too.  Tomorrow is too far away.  I will try to keep my sanity for you.”  Phone replaced next to him, Blaine settled down to keep working, the same happy smile slow to fade.