…

Job Title: Personal Assistant

Location: New York City, Manhattan

Job Type: Full Time

Blaine's hand slowed from its incessant clicking and pulled back, the tiny cursor on the screen landing back where it was, highlighting the content, his eyes perusing the screen more carefully. Blaine could travel to Manhattan from Queens, not a problem.

Work Pattern: 6 Days over 7, Two Weekends off per calendar month

Huh, that's a lot of time, a lot of work, but what else did Blaine have to do that was so important? Whoever it was who required the need of an assistant for that length of time must be some crazy-busy and very successful dude, or lady. Blaine could work with that, it would definitely be something to boast about on future applications.

Start Date: ASAP.

Experience: Preferred but not essential

Education Level: N/A

This was all suited to him perfectly so far, not exactly what he had in mind when looking over job applications and vacancies, this wasn't a role he had ever thought ‘this is what I want to be' but there was something here that caught his attention, something he knew he could do, and do well. This was the only advertisement that he had actually taken an interest to, and he couldn't understand why.

Blaine had spent most of the gray, rainy April's Sunday afternoon glued to the screen of his laptop whilst huddled up in his armchair in his Queens, NY apartment. He had logged on just after waking up with the sounds of the rain pattering against his bedroom window this morning.

He'd padded to his bathroom naked and yawning, shoulder cracking and scratching at his stomach. His body started to awaken and warm with the falling droplets from the shower head above him as his forehead rested against the cool damp tile of his shower stall, an arm sprawled just above his wet mop of hair, as he panted and thrust his hips and himself up into his own tight fist again and again until he groaned deeply, releasing his morning pleasure weakly over the walls a little breathlessly until the water washed it away.

He never knows where it still comes from, that, he was sure that, that, had all but dried up much like everything else, at least it brings him a small segment of delight in some way for the day ahead.

Afterward he pulled on some sweats and poured some coffee into his mug, pushed on his reading glasses and sat at his small breakfast bar, chewing on a multi-grain whilst his small gray tabby cat woke from his bed over on the wooden tiled floor and made his way over, wounding his way through Blaine's dangling legs. Disinterestedly and tiredly, bored to sickness, he flicked through site after site.

He stopped for brunch, connected to his Xbox in his living room and joined in some sort of match whilst swallowing his creamed cheese and bacon bagel with his free hand. After losing and throwing some only-half polite words into the mic of his head set, he closed the game and reached for his laptop, starting his search again.

Salary: $40,000 per year.

What? What sort of money is that for fetching coffee and cakes, filing away some papers, calling up buildings and function rooms to hold meetings at.

Forty-Thousand big ones, just for that?

Blaine wasn't poor, not really, his student loan days were well behind him and he had proudly been able to save a little each month from tips, the odd bursaries his parents would send during school and college, earnings and wages from the various jobs he had held under his belt, whilst working hard and vigorously trying to make the best of himself like every other wide eyed and strong shouldered student trying to prove themselves. 

But money would, it could, run out if he wasn't careful, and sometimes maybe he did struggle from living alone, but finding a roommate was beyond questioning now.

That kind of salary could really make a difference to him, he would only have to use just a little of it each month for bills and daily living and then the rest could be built up over a couple of years or so, he could use that money to get out of his rut of a life and start a fresh, he could go anywhere he wanted, anywhere, could be who and what he wanted to be.

Job Summary:

Seeking a high quality, Personal Assistant, Requirements as follows:

·         Discreet, honest, loyal and trustworthy and highly flexible

·         Able to manage confidential information

·         Exceptional organizational and multi-tasking skills

·         Strong with following-up and attention to detail

·         Proficient in computing and most word programs

·         Ability to prioritize and meet effective deadlines.

·         Excellent communication skills.

 -Candidate must be willing to sign a Non- Disclosure Agreement-

All of that is completely understandable, and completely do-able, Blaine had that experience, he had those qualities. Blaine although he already knew it, had been told on countless occasions that he was ever the charmer, he could silence a room with the sound of his smooth voice, he could worm his way in and out of any situation, and not in a bad smarmy kind of way. He just had that likeable, controlling quality about him.

Blaine was a kind and polite boy, smart and wise, born and raised on proper manners and education, tutored at private school and then sent off to Boston to study Music and whatever else he was hell bent on studying, to later graduate at the top of his class.

Yes Blaine was your typical boys' boy back during his youthful educational years, he and his old high school friends did some things that they probably shouldn't talk about out of the circle of their group, he had some verbal-fights with his parents that escalated too quickly and stemmed from the most ridiculous things, and then there was that summer when he set fire to his brothers hair, just a little, which is never, ever to be spoken of again.

But Blaine was a good boy, he was different to most his age because he could be that fun loving jack-the-lad sort but he also cared, deeply, about himself and others, and was extremely dedicated to his work and future, his aspirations and dreams, he followed them and succeeded to a certain level.

The only problem, if you could call it that, with Blaine was his big heart, and how he couldn't help but feel, he couldn't help but feel affected by what people thought of him, he wanted, needed to feel loved.

He was a people pleaser and that's what mattered to him the most, and that's also why he was where he was in his life right now, he cared too much. He listened too much to other's opinions about his abilities and forgot about his own outlooks and his own wants.

Blaine is now a good boy turned to impeccable young man, honest and good willed, head strong, and maybe his handsome looks set him apart from the crowd also, with his dark curls cut short and styled, a slight shadow over his strong jaw even though he shaved most days. He boasts a small compact body, but strong built, with tight thighs and calves, a broad chest and thick muscled biceps which are highlighted under the strain of his tight fitting polo shirts and Henley's, from his daily runs and the remnants of his high school boxing days.         

If interested and suited to this post, please send an appropriate resume and a short covering letter to;

Carole at khenterprizes@hmail.com

Blaine hadn't recognised the name nor the email address instantly, but that didn't phase him for some reason, his mind was too fuzzy on this opportunity, on how much he cared and also didn't at the same time, he'd given up on looking for the things he wanted, he'd now give anything a shot.

This is an opportunity for Blaine, a new venture from a different angle that he could quite possibly highly achieve in, he could prove himself, this is something he needs, if given the chance.

What would it hurt in just checking it out a little further?

His daily mental positivity quota was already being dented with each failed application, with each hour spent daydreaming about the what ifs and why me's.

It will be nice meeting somebody new, extending his comfort zones and horizons, he might make a new friend.

--Please Note- This position is residentially required and successful applicant will remain contracted until further notice.—

…

Residential? Interesting. Why would a personal assistant be needed to live within the same walls as their employer. Blaine quickly scrolled back up making sure he hadn't missed out the ‘Nanny to three kids' part or anything.

Nope, nothing about kids or pets, or a carer of any sort.

Could Blaine do this, that? Could Blaine give up his little home? Could he move to Manhattan, though not very far away, and wasn't like he lived within an appropriate distance to anybody who mattered anyway.

Could he live under the same roof with somebody he didn't know? Somebody he worked for?

Could he take this chance, a chance he's been waiting for, it could be for better or for worse, could he be brave?

Yes. He could.

Why the hell not? There was nothing else to lose.

*

Blaine wipes his moist palm over his knee, hoping that it wouldn't leave a mark on his black slacks. He twists the pen in his fingers and taps it against the paper filled clipboard. Fiddles with his bow tie with his free hand, pulling it this way and that and peeks down at his shoes, making sure they are still shining and smudge free.

Why is he nervous? He's done this so many times, ok well not this exactly. He's never applied for a job which requires him to pack up his life, if he could call it that. He's never before heard back from an application so quickly and been called in for immediate interviewing, without doing any research or background on the company or person he's interviewing for, not like he had time to do any of those things.

He taps the pen to his bottom lip lightly before returning it to the paper, the small room he is sitting in is so quiet, that the scratch of the pen denting the paper's surface sends gooseflesh over the dark hairs of his forearms, covered by his long sleeved light blue button down. 

…

Standard friendly questioning, to allow us to get to know you a little more comfortably, confidentiality is highly respected and followed.

Please answer the following truthfully;

Full name: Blaine Devon Anderson

Age: 26

Marital Status: Single

Place of Birth: Westerville, Ohio

Currently Residing in: Queens, New York

First Language: English/American

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Religion: None

Health history: No problems

Smoke/Drink: Never smoked. Drink once or twice a week

Academic/Career highlights, favourite past times, interests:

…

Blaine sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and lifts his head thoughtfully, he glances around the small room he's sitting in, an office on the Twenty-something floor of a Manhattan building. The room is light and airy, painted cream with minimal décor and two large caramel coloured fabric couches, one in which he's perched on the edge of with his knees pressed together where the clipboard rests atop them.

It looks like an office waiting room that has been very hastily put together, there is still a lingering hint of freshly added paint mixed with the sweet aroma of the floral plug-in air freshener that's in the wall in the corner next to the plastic potted plant.

When Blaine stepped off of the elevator he was greeted instantly by a lady who looked to be in her late Forties maybe, with cropped Blonde hair, a lovely face and a bright smile. She wore a sharp looking dove gray pants suit and handed him the clipboard, and asked him politely to fill out the form and with a not so subtle flick of her warm eyes over Blaine's smartly dressed body she disappeared through a closed door.

That had been Twenty-Five minutes ago, and nobody had came through that door since, or from the elevator lobby, through the open archway. With a job opportunity like this Blaine thought he would be just one in a long line of hopeful applicants.

Blaine can just hear voices from the other side of the mahogany door, sounds like two people, bickering and debating, both a little high and soft, one pitched with a tone of supposed disinterest, like a whiney teenager being told to eat their greens because they're good for them and they just should.

Blaine blows out a breath and glances down at the last question on his form, he closes his eyes and really thinks. There are about a hundred and one things that he could scribble down on that page right now.

There's his recurring award of employee of the month at his first summer job, performing with his buddies back in the day at school events, themes parks and summer camps. His promotion from sales clerk to weekend manager at the music store he worked at during college, his further promotion to part time music teacher.

Graduating with honours and moving to New York to start a career and a life, his life. Sharing a studio apartment with three other guys, laughing and making music and videos until sunrise, and the day that he was able to afford his own place and venture off on his own.

Being asked to perform at a Gay Pride event, the abundance of twitter followers he'd received afterwards, the parties and wedding receptions he had been booked to perform at.

He thinks about every bar and bistro he has played at all hours of everyday, every stage he has climbed up on with his guitar strapped to his side, every owner he has playfully begged to get a piano or keyboard for their stage for him to use.

Every standing ovation he's received and every request, for him, to watch and to listen, to him.

To name a few.

Blaine scrunches his closed eyes and lets the tip of the pen hover over the page, the door creaks open and the voices beyond it hush, only allowing the sounds of Blaine's breathing fill his ears. He glances down once more as a shadow settles over the threshold.

“Mr Anderson?” The nice lady from before is peering out from the door, her hand extended to him, fingers wiggling gesturing him forward. He looks up, eyes a little wide and lips pursed in some form of frustration.

“You can come right in now, honey,” He stands, his face softening into just one of his trademark smiles, lips together and dimples peeking out on his cheeks. He clips the pen to the top of the board, flattening his pants with his free hand and stepping forward.

The last space is left blank, he has those things, those memories, those likes. Or he had them, and does not know where they have gotten to now, that part of him feels empty now, like the bottom of the page in his hand, waiting to be filled once more.

*

The new room in which Blaine finds himself situated in is a little larger than the previous room, with clean neutral shaded walls and carpets but still does not look like a typical office, not the ones that Blaine remembers seeing on TV programs and movies. There's no computer or waste paper basket, no filing cabinets even. The whole back wall is a line of clear windows looking down onto the busy streets below, there's an almost empty bookshelf and radio set up in the corner next to an old looking chair and a collection of bright paintings hanging from the walls in no real order. There is a handbag sitting on the floor and a copy of Vogue open at the middle section, with a rain coat folded neatly beside them.

He's seated on a comfortable leather chair at a wide oak desk in the centre of the room with a stack of blank papers pressed down with a clear flower shaped paper weight and a pencil pot sitting in the corner.

“I'm Carole,” and she offers a bright smile once again and a hand over the surface of the desk which Blaine takes and shakes immediately with a light head nod.

This all seems a little odd somehow, he thinks.

“Blaine, it's nice to meet you-”

“Oh you too dear, how sweet, may I?” She nods to the clipboard lying on the desk beside Blaine under his palm and he nudges it forward with a slide of his finger. She picks it up and Blaine watches as her eyes scan his words sideways and up and down. Her lips curl at the side and she hums quietly to herself, clearly enjoying what she's reading, for some reason.

“Oh you missed that last part out honey, did you need more time?” Carole reaches for a pen from the little pot, her mouth shaping into a small pout, her lashes spreading widely.

“Oh um no, no thank you, I um, there's too much to say that's all, where to begin-” He looks up to the ceiling in a humorous frantic gesture and forces a small chuckle as Carole smiles at him, her fingers picking out a pen and uncapping it.

“Well just give me a word honey, anything, we gotta have something on there-” Their eyes meet and Blaine can almost sense a mothering vibe from the lady opposite him, something positive and encouraging like she's rooting for him, willing him to do good, to say something good.

“Oh um, ok, uh, music? Uh yeah just write music I guess.” Carole's eyes light up for a fraction and her pink stained lips part into a wide grin.

“Perfect,” she mutters, as she scribbles the word down and recaps the pen, “yes I think he'll like this very much-” Blaine almost doesn't catch those last words as she stands suddenly and walks over to a door in the side wall, which Blaine has just noticed is there. There is a sliding catch just above the door handle, Carole unclips the paper and folds it, sliding the little door along, opening just enough to slot the paper through then closes it again.

She turns around, her hands clasped in front of her and bobs a little bit on her heeled toes, and Blaine finds her completely endearing, although this whole setup does really seem a little strange but he can't quite put his finger on it.

“So um, Blaine, what happens now is, um, well the job, it's for-”

The door behind Carole creaks open quickly, the handle dropping down and then up, and Carole steps to the side, well its more of a controlled stumble whilst unable to hide her smug looking smirk, like she won some sort of bet or something.

Blaine who is still sitting in his chair with his legs crossed neatly underneath and his hands folded over his knees, turns a little bit towards the door, neck craning a little see, his smile still intact, as professional as he can muster. Alarms bells are starting to ring in his head, but not the frantic ‘get out of here now' kind, he is highly intrigued right now.

Carole bends over to pick up the bag and coat from the floor, she tucks the magazine neatly under one arm and when she completely moves out of the way of the now open doorway, Blaine's breath catches in his throat, eyes widening and glazing with surprise.

Blaine has had many reasons to feel a little surprised this morning, the barren makeshift office, Carole who is just lovely but certainly doesn't appear to do this, whatever it is she's doing, very often, the immediate referral for interview, the surprise in himself for coming here, the curiosity that is still seeping from him.

But when his eyes catch with the wide clear blue ones of the man standing in the doorway, he feels a different sort of surprise, something that settles deep within the pit of his stomach, and it both excites and terrifies him.

The man watches him, deeply, for what feel likes very long ticking seconds, almost as if he's waiting for something, waiting for Blaine to do or say something. Blaine cannot look away, the man's eyes are not just blue, Blaine can see with every subtle movement that the man's face makes and the way the sunlight catches him, his iris's swirl from blue to green to grey, like a sea under a storm cloud, utterly captivating.

Carole swoops in and hugs the man, her face pressed to his chest and her arms wrapped tight around his waist, he's taller than her, Blaine can see just by looking at him that he's taller than himself also, and his chin rests lightly on her head as they embrace briefly.

Unprofessional is not the first word that goes through Blaine's head, but he knows, he knew, that this wasn't an ordinary business set up, this is some kind of family affair, he can see that now. He averts his gaze to the window as he hears them speak quietly into each others ears.

“I have to go catch my plane now honey, I think we've found what we've been looking for hmm, be good-”

“Carole-”

“Trust Kurt, just have faith sweetheart,”

Kurt, his name is Kurt. Blaine doesn't know if he was supposed to hear or not, he couldn't help but hear no matter how hushed they were, but something tingles up his spine and settles within the deep cut of his jaw, something weird and different yet fascinating.

The two pull apart and Carole hurries over to the other door where Blaine came in from, she turns on her heel and waves jovially at Blaine.

“Good luck Blaine, I look forward to seeing you again some day.”

Huh. He has just enough time to wave a hand with a twisted grin and then she's gone.

Blaine shifts and resettles in his chair, he looks to find Kurt now standing opposite him in front of the desk, just starting to slowly lower himself into the chair where Carole had been sitting. The sun from the window behind him beams in hot and bright and literally illuminates his face and his hair like an actual halo.

Blaine swallows hard. His hair is a mixture of browns and dark blondes, maybes a hint of copper and bronze too, it's swept up high into a neat style off of his brow, but there are strays peeking out from all around, like a controlled messy style, it looks good, too good.

His features are hard and stone like, brooding and Blaine can tell that he's trying to be intimidating but not coming off all that successful, well not on Blaine anyway. A slight tremor runs up his defined jaw, fuzzed with a very soft layer of light stubble, and he blinks those weirdly wonderful eyes, once then twice, long lashes fluttering down and over and up again, and he's nervous, Blaine has worked out, Kurt is nervous too.

Kurt swallows, his Adams apple bopping over the column of his pale throat, his skin tone is pale all over, like cream and strawberries combined and Blaine knows it will be smooth and soft to the touch. His nose and cheeks are chiselled and there is not anything about this guy that Blaine can stop looking at, but Kurt is remaining silent, looking intently back at him and as unnerving as it should be Blaine happily takes the opportunity to just watch.

His suit certainly doesn't look like anything that Blaine could afford within a minute's notice, it's a charcoal gray, fitted impeccably and clinging in all of the right places. His shoulders are wide, stretching under his suit jacket the black button down shirt he's wearing underneath, unbuttoned casually at the collar with a sneaky wedge of skin peaking out. His legs seem to go on for days and his dark patent leather shoes look like something from a runway and Blaine is a little sad that the bottom half of his body has disappeared under the wooden top of the desk for now.

God what is he doing, Blaine has never checked anybody out before, if that's what it is, well not like this, certainly not somebody he may be working for, he doesn't know where this has came from, yes the guy is actually unfairly beautiful, but it's not like he hasn't seen beautiful guys before. Well none like him, not this close.

Blaine now suddenly notices how young Kurt looks and his heart skips a beat of uncertainty in his chest, he cant be any older than himself, maybe younger, and Blaine thinks, he wonders, maybe this business is Carole's and Kurt is her son and he works the forefront. Maybe Blaine is applying to be the personal assistant of an assistant, sort of. God, great.    

Blaine doesn't know what he expected, who he expected to meet and to work for, but it wasn't this man. It wasn't Kurt. And something still thrills inside of Blaine, something he can't quite put his finger on.

“So as you probably heard just now, I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel-”

Blaine startles a little but doesn't let it show as Kurt starts speaking and then pauses, as if he's waiting for something to happen again, his voice is soft and high but pitched low, determined and serious but like he's trying to sound bored somehow, almost, Blaine finds him completely enthralling.

“Blaine, um Anderson, it's a pleasure to meet you Kurt, thank you for this opportunity today,” Blaine extends his arm and his hand over the surface of the desk towards Kurt, his smile stretching his lips and eyes twinkling.

Kurt's eyes linger on Blaine's face and Blaine knows that he has been caught within the depths of his honeyed green eyes, which swirl and mix with each new shade of light he's in. Blaine has heard many comments about his eyes before, he's even found himself lost in the bright shining pools when fixing his hair in the mirror, he knows how they darken and glow when utterly taken in a moment of pleasure, how they glaze and widen when he's sad.

How they sizzle when looking at something he finds truly and deeply interesting, like now.  

Kurt blinks and glances down for half a second before curling his fingers around Blaine's and jerking their hands up and down quickly before retreating.Blaine thinks he can see a very small smirk hiding at the corner of Kurt's pink lips. And yes his skin is as soft as he thought it would be.

“Yes well, thank you for coming here today, I don't want to bore you with a lifetime full of details, so-”

“Oh I don't think you could bore me Kurt-” Kurt's eyes flash, something between annoyance and humour and down right joy and his gaze flickers over Blaine's charming expression.

He continues, unfazed, or trying to act like it. “Kurt Hummel Enterprizes, is um, it's my company, my business-”

Oh. Blaine's brain gives a flicker of recognition, maybe something he's read in the NY Times, or something. But nothing in his brain is fully up to scratch right now, the rational part seems to be only semi-working, and all doubts from before, doubts about the room they're in, the not so professional set up and whatever it is he is actually here for today, those thoughts and doubts are starting to dissipate.

“We're-the business is, um I am taking on what feels like a boat load of work at the moment, branching out, new territory, and so a personal assistant to accompany me and help ease some of the stress and bulk is the next best step for me, for the company, I've decided.”

Blaine nods, his hands folding over his knees again neatly, patiently waiting for Kurt to continue, to expand.

“So is that, um is this is something you're interested in, something you're capable of, you think?”

Oh wow, that's it? No more explanation? Blaine lifts his hands to the desk, drumming his fingers lightly over the edge, he tries to think of questions, tries to think of rational reasonable things to say, things he needs to know about a new job, one which will be so demanding, so full on.

He thinks hard, trying to pull up something intelligent sounding and also truthful and meaningful to say.

“Yes, absolutely.” He comes up with instead. Ok so there's that too, whatever. 

Kurt's whole face softens in that moment, his perfectly curved eyebrows raise upon his brow, and he suddenly looks so youthful, so innocent. A delighted look flicks across that beautiful face and Blaine can tell that he's fighting to conceal it. 

And then it's gone again as quick as it came, and those features and those piercing eyes harden, like he's afraid he's been caught.

He straightens up in his chair, flicking his fingernails of his thumb and forefinger together absentmindedly. He clears his throat.

“So a music major in Boston? Honours, top of your class, a whirlwind success?”

Blaine tenses a little and feels a slight flush creep up his neck, he doesn't know why. “Um y-yes sir, Berklee.”

Kurt stiffens a little, and Blaine is unsure why, though he is already picking up on Kurt's sultry vibes, he already understands Kurt's character and personality, he gets that Kurt is stern even though he doesn't want to be. Blaine likes it, he likes him, more than he should at this stage.

“You hail from Westerville Ohio?” Blaine nods and smiles, he's normally a little more vocal, a little more expressive but his tongue feels thick, he just wants to listen to Kurt, he just wants to watch.

Kurt's lips twitch and he lifts his strong chin. Blaine's eyes wander to his very subtle fuzzy jaw and neck, “Lima for me, my family still live there,” Blaine nods in understanding and he wants to ask but Kurt beats him to it, “Carole's my step-mother, she helps out whenever she can, whenever she wants.”

Blaine nods again, starting to feeling a little coy, like a deer caught in headlights unable to do anything but move his head and bat his long dark lashes in wonder.

Kurt tilts his head to the side slightly, his gaze falling like he's taking Blaine in, appreciating almost but not in a too obvious way, just enough. “I like your bowtie,”

Oh verbal whiplash. Blaine's hand automatically drops to the silk royal blue and white striped bow tie at his throat and he pats over it gently.

“Oh um, thank you, I don't wear them now, as much as I used to-”

“You had a collection?”

“You could say that-” Kurt bites his lip and Blaine draws in a quick shallow breath, a little noisier than preferred. Kurt releases the flesh from his teeth and wraps his knuckles on the table, he's trying to keep up this façade, this whatever it is, Blaine can tell.

Blaine has always been a good judge of character.

“So Music's your thing huh?”

“Um yes, I guess so, it has-”

“Why are you here? A man of your age. Why are you not out there making this music? Your resume is certainly impressive Mr Anderson, what brings you here, now, to me?”

Blaine swallows hard, his chest thumping. He doesn't know. His mind runs back to what Kurt has just said ‘a man of your age' surely Kurt, and Carole, could have chosen somebody younger if it mattered?

But for some strange reason that seems to rise from the depths of him, he's glad and he doesn't care, he's glad that he's here, with Kurt, and it's starting to not just be because of the possible job ahead of him. 

“I guess, that uh, that I'm just looking for something new, not different entirely, just new, I um, I honestly don't know what else to say, gosh I'm so sorry, I'm normally so much more pulled together, I-I just-”

A soft tickling sound fills the air and Blaine's ears and he looks to find Kurt laughing quietly behind the back of his hand, a giggle so quiet and so soft, and Blaine can hardly believe it, it's so surprising, so wonderful. Even covered by his hand Blaine can see the cute scrunch of his nose and how wide his lips are spread in delight. Kurt pulls himself out of it with a small cough as Blaine's parted lips twitch up into a dazzling smile.

They share a look, for no longer than two seconds and Blaine's stomach feels like it's rising up into his ribcage.

“When can you start Mr Anderson, uh, Blaine?”

“Wha-oh, uh-”

“Did you have any other questions? You're ok with the residential request right? You'll have no bills or facilities to pay for, you'll have you're own chauffeured car and your wages that you earn will be yours to do with what you wish,” Blaine blinks once and then twice, trying to store everything to memory. It's so much, it's so fast, it's so new.

“I-um, do you mind me asking about the residential requirement? Not that I mind it, I-I guess I'm just curious-”

“My work takes me to a variety of places, at all hours of the day, sometimes unscheduled, I'm um, I'm requested to appear at a lot of events, more frequently now. I fund a lot of campaigns and ambassador for a lot of charities, that sort of stuff,” He waves a hand in the air while his gaze lifts to the ceiling and continues. “Sometimes I need somebody with me when I go to such places, or even just have someone there in the background of my meetings and appointments, being under one roof, together, it's, it will just be…easier.”

It wasn't a question, more of a statement of facts, it sounded rehearsed even, Kurt drawls the words with a look past Blaine's head before returning his gaze, but Blaine nods like he understood, like he was accepting, like he wanted it.

“And, don't worry, there's plenty of space, we won't be finding ourselves on top of each other… that much.” Kurt drawls with a hint of humour and teasing to his tone.

Blaine feels his jaw slacken and his lips dry up, he flicks his tongue fleetingly over to moisten them some and Kurt does not miss the action though he pretends like he did.

Kurt offers a tight smile and flicks his gaze away, feigning disinterest. “There will be a Six month probationary period, and in that time I can help assure that you still have a home if this position turns out to be dissatisfactory for you, any further questions?”

With a deep unwavering look into Kurt's eyes, unsure where the rush of confidence has came from, he thinks, hard. A tornado of thoughts running through his mind, it all seems so dream like, like he's won the lottery, something off of one of those ridiculous rom-coms, sort of.

There are a million other questions he should ask, there are a thousand things he should want to know. How long has the business been running for? What exactly is the business? How has Kurt got to where he is right now in his life? Where will his new home be, Kurt's home?  He wants to know how old Kurt is, he wants to know him. Is Blaine even allowed to ask these things? Is he allowed to know?

What if it didn't work it out? What if this was the worst decision he'd ever made, or what if it was the best?

He doesn't quite understand, where it's coming from this sudden need for exploration of all kinds, an almost dangerous daring streak of wanting the unknown, of not caring enough anymore, of easily letting it, himself, all go in favour of one new chance.

Because right now, he is sitting in front of Kurt, a man he has just met, a man so dangerously attractive, mysterious and a tad on the edgy side.

Who is just oozing power from the tips of his fingers and pads of his toes and yet there is something so incredibly vulnerable about him.

Blaine just wants to sit unlimited and look into his eyes and pull every story from the man's mind and just know him.

Blaine thinks about whatever problems he ever thought he had, the lull he believes he is experiencing, and somehow he thinks, that if at least for now, he has found someway to feed his starvation for excitement and new and more.

Right now the job is becoming secondary, and the thought both petrifies and thrills him to no amount.

The ad had said until further notice, this may not be permanent, this may not last, but Blaine has grown tired of giving up chances before he has even had the time to seek them out, no matter long or short, he wants this, this something scary, this something exciting.

He feels his dry throat open and close almost, his jaw working, drawing breaths, his lips starting to move before he could even comprehend it.

“I-I have a cat, could he come too?”