Until Further Notice
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Until Further Notice: Chapter 16


E - Words: 5,380 - Last Updated: Oct 24, 2014
Story: Complete - Chapters: 22/? - Created: Oct 11, 2014 - Updated: Oct 11, 2014
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The movie is undoubtedly a success, the crowd lap it up, they laugh and cry and cheer in all of the right places and applaud at the end when the credits roll and the house lights come up. The actors are given their deserved praise and credited the right amount and then waves of security start herding everybody out safely, keeping the general public segregated from the not-so general public.

 

 

Blaine would be lying if he said that he didn't find it all rather fascinating and a little surreal and humorous. He keeps his head down and follows Kurt closely as they make their way out into the reception area where complimentary flutes of champagne are handed out along with serving trays of canapé's.

 

 

Kurt picks up two flutes on his way past, towards the lounge and bar area, he turns and hands one to Blaine who accepts it gratefully, taking a sip and enjoying the feeling of the bubbles popping down his throat and settling in his chest. They'd already had a glass when they'd entered the building upon arrival, and before settling down to watch the movie Kurt had ordered them a short each.

 

 

Blaine feels loose, a little light headed, not too much when he's slurring or feeling tipsy, just the right amount, and he knows that Kurt is relaxing now too, he can feel it. His earlier nerves and feeling of apprehension are starting to lift and he's enjoying being involved in this event, being here and listening and watching all that is going on around him, he can get used to this he thinks, maybe, sometimes.

 

 

Kurt is enjoying himself too, even if he doesn't always look like it, Blaine can tell by the subtle soft curve to his lips and the crinkle to the corner of his eyes when he thinks that nobody is paying him that much attention. Maybe it's only Blaine who can actually see Kurt for who he really is, probably the only one in this crowd tonight anyway.

He's busy watching Kurt share small talk with a former colleague from a shared project some years ago, when his mind wanders elsewhere and his thoughts are redirected to a more personal headspace.

 

 

He wonders what it would be like if this was an event moulded around him, around his career and accomplishments, his types of people if he has a type, would he still feel a little out of his depth, would it take him as much time to adapt, would he even like it still. Blaine's passion has always been music and performing, not the fame and the money that can come with it if success takes over. Blaine will always remain to be the sweet, caring, polite boy he was raised to be no matter how his life turns out. He knows that Kurt is the same, he sees and he can feel the sensitive, considerate side of Kurt that he keeps hidden inside, the side that is just for him and close friends and family, and wonders what ever made him loose his way and his self, why did he feel the need to start presenting himself in a different way to the outside eye, a way that could seem cold and harsh and disinterested, so unlike him.

 

 

Blaine knows that Kurt has started trying, not just with him, but with everyone in general, he's trying with himself, to ease up and let go, Blaine can see the small changes in him everyday, the baby steps that he's trying to make. But there is still that distinct way in which he closes himself off from certain people, like he has two personalities, one for the people he trusts and one for the people he doesn't.        

 

 

They're sitting on a cream leather couch, tucked away in an intimately corner, sipping from their glass flutes and nibbling on Palma ham and sweet potato Rosti's that have just been served, whilst making polite small talk with other guests, sharing opinions on the movie. Some of them Blaine recognises instantly, some of them he has a vague distant recognition of and others Blaine wonders how in the hell they ever got an invite, as they make their way around the room, schmoozing at every possible chance.

 

 

“Kurt? Kurt Hummel? And what in the world is it that we owe this extreme pleasure to?” Blaine whips his head around to the new voice that has rudely interrupted their current quiet flow of friendly chatter, approaching their area in an easy, obnoxious stroll. He see's a man who he recognises instantly from multiple magazine covers and commercials, the guy's tall and good looking but with unnatural tanned skin, highlighted hair flicked up and a sharp cut tux, he seems like the type of guy who is hired more for his face rather than his intellect and talent and skills, if he has any. Kurt keeps his eyes on the couple he had been talking to, unmoving though Blaine can feel his shoulders tense beside him, his whole body posture shifting to something more closed off and guarded when he hears the man's voice.

 

 

Blaine looks between the two, slightly dumbfounded, not sure what to do or say, Kurt appears completely disinterested, not bothering to turn to the stranger or show any interest in him in the slightest, instead continuing his conversation with the couple who now look to be as awkward as Blaine feels.

 

 

“Oh come on Kurt, you're not still giving me the cold shoulder are you?” The guy's tone is dripping with sarcasm and dry humour, teasing and slightly clipped, like he's truly enjoying something that he clearly shouldn't be. At that Kurt turns in his seat, offering the other couple a tight smile who have decided to stand and venture somewhere else, there is a moment where Blaine wishes he could follow them. This is very obviously going to be an awkward exchange, he can feel the icy atmosphere already forming between Kurt and whoever this guy is.

 

 

“Oh hello Bret, sorry I clearly didn't hear you there, or see you,” Kurt lifts his flute to his lips and Blaine can hear him murmur something lowly under his breath before it's drowned out by liquid fizz.

 

 

“Clearly,” Bret repeats, his lightly trimmed eye brows drawn so much they almost seem like one, smile obscenely white and too wide. He's holding a small glass tumbler filled with a dark and too strong smelling liquid, he swirls it around pointlessly as he turns to Blaine, extending his free hand, his green eyes flashing and lightening and he doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze drinks Blaine in, looking at him from head to toe. “Bret Smith Jr, pleasure.”

It's rather obvious now that guy has maybe enjoyed more than one of those glasses, he's not slurring or acting at all outlandish, but his balance is wavering gently, his eyes a little glazed.

 

 

“Oh um,” Blaine fumbles to switch his champagne flute to the other hand so that he can shake hands appropriately, “yes, likewise, um Blaine, Blaine Anderson.”

 

 

“Cute.” Bret drawls, almost a tad too long, too low, he turns to Kurt. “I'd heard on the old grapevine that you'd got yourself one of these,” His eyes flick to Blaine, up and down, like he is some kind of pet ready for taking. “I think I may have to invest myself.”

Kurt's upper lip curls with disdain as he drains his glass, puts it down a little too heavily on a nearby glass table top and stands, pulling at Blaine's arm as he does, Blaine does the same with his glass as best he can. Kurt doesn't even bother to dignify whatever Bret was implying with a response.

 

 

“Well this has been just lovely Bret, pleasure as always, but we must be going-” Kurt does not sound like he has had a pleasurable experience in the slightest and Blaine is pulled to his feet clumsily as Kurt's finger's curl around the curve of his elbow and rest securely within the soft crook.

 

 

“Now, now let's not be too hasty Kurt, please let's catch up, it's been too long. Please do enlighten me about your life these days and your… Blaine.” Bret tilts his head to the side, his eyes are gleaming and his words are laced with obvious mischief, the way he keeps looking between the two and more so at Blaine is a way that Blaine has never been looked at before, it's far too lecherous and Blaine is growing uncomfortable by the minute, but there is something that is peaking his curiosity with this whole situation. Bret sidesteps subtly so that he is now standing in the way of Kurt and Blaine's exit path, and the only way past is too shuffle closely past him or just plough him down, and Blaine is getting the feeling that Kurt would have no issue with the latter.

 

 

Blaine can practically feel Kurt vibrating in annoyance beside him from where their arms are linked securely, Kurt's fingers are tightening around Blaine's arm with each deep breath he makes.

“As much as that sounds positively wonderful and an offer that one simply could not refuse, I must still do so, Blaine and I have plans tonight.”

 

 

Blaine manages to sneak a sideways glance up at Kurt and has to hold back a soft gasp. Kurt's eyes are so very wide and clear, like storm clouds swirling and raging, his face is set into perfect hard yet gorgeous lines, eyebrows drawn downwards, but his smile is absolutely dazzling, shining with a hint of something almost dangerous.

 

 

Bret doesn't respond nor does he move, only raises his glass tumbler up to his mouth and takes a drink, eyebrow quirked, something is clearly amusing him. He swallows, the action too visible and too loud in his throat and then takes another drink, his eyes hard and never leaving Kurt's, only to casually roll over to Blaine, like he's got all of the time in the world, and Kurt and Blaine must simply wait for him. 

 

 

Kurt rolls his eyes up towards the ceiling, he inhales deeply like he's drawing strength somehow, his smile begins to drop before it widens again, impossibly brighter, and then his gaze is fixed on Bret's once again. He takes a step forward, shoulders rolling, almost menacing until he and Bret are nearly brushing chests. Kurt's hand falls from Blaine's arm and Blaine takes the opportunity to step back a little, he self consciously glances around the room, just to make sure that nobody is watching.

 

 

Blaine has genuinely no idea what is about to happen, but he doesn't think it's something that needs an audience, particularly this kind of influential audience. Thankfully nobody seems to be paying them any attention, the room is large and wide, spread out over different levels, and lit rather dimly to fit the mood, packed out with guests, security and wait staff, there's a guy playing a piano rather loudly in the corner and the melody is only just carrying over the noise of chatter and clinking glasses.

 

 

This is the side of Kurt that Blaine has read about it on those gossip sites and pages, this is the no nonsense, no bullshit, talented and uniquely clever Mr Big Money that Kurt is often referred to. Blaine wonders what this guy, this smarmy Bret, has ever done to Kurt to receive such a frosty reception from him. Finally the guy lowers his glass and tips it on an angle towards them in a questioning gesture, that god awful smirk still sitting on his shiny lips. Actually Blaine doesn't have to wonder, he thinks he can see exactly why Kurt is getting so worked up by his presence, no matter their history, and there is obviously history between them. “Are you two going to the after party? We should definitely share a car-”

 

 

Kurt drops his tone to a low rumble, Blaine thinks that if he was to place his palm over Kurt's back then he would be able to feel the words as Kurt hisses them sharply, deep through his chest, his face still bright and beaming as he speaks.

“Listen here, Bret Smith Junior,” His words are enunciated perfectly clear, his vowels punctuated with a little bite, “We both know how this is going to go down, if you want to push me, by all means push me, but you're not going to come out of this victorious, you never have, never will.”

 

 

Kurt pauses and glances around the room, there is a photographer making her way towards them from the opposite side of the room and Bret follows Kurt's eye line as Kurt grins fiercely upon noticing her. Nobody wants bad press, not even people as desperate as Bret. Bret straightens up, his smirk sliding to one side a little, as Kurt continues. “There's a lot of people here tonight Bret, you don't really want them all to see you on the wrong side of my tongue, once again do you?” Bret's lips tighten into a thin line, his fingers tightening around his glass so much that Blaine thinks the thing is going to shatter in his hand in any moment.

 

 

“So what I suggest you do, is get the hell out of my way and let me bid you a goodnight and hopefully a final farewell for a very long time.” Bret swallows hard and Blaine thinks he can almost hear it, he thinks he can see a light sheen of sweat break out on the guy's fake-tanned forehead, but he doesn't want to be presumptuous.  Bret finally lowers his gaze, his chin tilting downwards as if he's nodding a simple parting farewell and steps to the side. Kurt instantly steps forward, knocking shoulders with him maybe a little too forcibly and the guy has to right himself, and rebalance his position.

 

 

Kurt suddenly swings back around, his head twisting on his shoulders and pinning Bret with an almighty frightening glare, frightening because at the same time Kurt's face is so soft, yet so passive and that smile is wondrous. “Oh and don't ever look or talk about my Blaine like that, ever again, it does not matter to you whatsoever who or what part he plays in my life, just know that he's mine regardless, and not for your tasteless mouth to run about, got it?”

 

 

Holy shit. Blaine can feel his temples pound along with his heart in his chest, he can feel an incredulous giggle creep its way up and through his throat and has to fight to keep it down, his lips pressed firmly closed. Something warm and heavy spreads through him starting from the pit of his stomach and working its way up, something kind of freeing, beating wildly in his chest and pumping through his veins. Blaine doesn't want to label it, he doesn't want the words to enter his head, but he knows what this feeling is, and he fucking loves it, so much that it almost scares him.

 

 

Kurt reaches past Bret who visibly tenses, unsure what Kurt is going to do, until Kurt grabs hold of Blaine's arm, hooking his hand through his elbow and pulling him gently back in step with him. Their eyes lock to each others, smouldering dark and deep, Blaine licks at his dry lips, he wants to say something, do something, but before he can get the chance Kurt is already turning away and breezing off into the room, tugging Blaine along with him effortlessly.    

 

 

Blaine manages one last look behind to find Bret staring down into his tumbler, looking positively ashen, struggling and trying so very hard to keep his composure, Blaine almost feels sorry for him, until the guy suddenly sniggers and looks up, catching his eye accidently. He calls out towards their retreating bodies, and Blaine can see the sting forming before he hears it.

 

 

“Yes, you are right about one thing Hummel, I must have a lack of taste to ever have been associated with you.”

 

 

Blaine feels the electric current, ignite deep from Kurt's chest and run through him, sparking outwards through their light touch, he freezes in place, and Blaine almost stumbles into his heels. Blaine thinks that Kurt is going to turn back around, maybe march over there and give the guy what for, or god forbid maybe even worse, but Kurt doesn't turn around, he doesn't even move his head. Blaine can see a slight a tremor in his jaw from where he's watching closely, stood behind him and then Kurt starts moving forward again, never looking back.

 

 

They make it to the exit where there's a man with an electronic device ready to key in codes and numbers to call for the guest's specific car's to come for pick up. Kurt makes eye contact with the man who immediately starts tapping onto his little screen and speaking into a headset, whilst nodding at Kurt politely. The official press reporter for the whole event and her team of photographers and media agents are hovering around the doors, making sure they get snippets from everyone there before they leave and Kurt makes a beeline for her, leaving Blaine fumbling after him.

 

 

Kurt reaches the door, Blaine in tow, and just as the doorman pulls the door open wide for them to step through with a polite nod and a smile, Kurt turns to the smartly dressed lady who appears to have every gadget going strapped and wired up to her. They catch eyes, and she smiles big and wide and toothy like she's won the lottery, Kurt doesn't give her a chance to say anything.

 

 

“Those rumours about Bret Smith Junior? All true. And by the way he most certainly does not, if you know what I mean.” Kurt's tone is so calm and even, so well mannered even though Blaine can tell he is positively seething. Blaine has to stifle his giggle once again, Kurt is not violent or aggressive but his tongue is a powerful weapon not to be reckoned with. Before the woman gets the chance to function correctly, he's gone, out of the door towards the collection point and Blaine is almost fleeing after him, head reeling.

 

 

*

 

 

“So you're really not going to tell me what happened then?”

 

 

Kurt remains silent, his fist pressed to his chin, elbow resting on the edge of the inner car door, glaring out of the tinted window as the city whirs past in hazes and flashes of colour and noise. He's clinging to a bottle of vodka in his spare hand that is kept in a cooler in the back of the car. He's already taken too many swigs straight from the bottle that Blaine cares to think about. He's almost shaking with anger. Sam looks to Blaine through the rear view mirror for help, but Blaine is just as speechless, he shrugs and shakes his head, biting his lip.

 

 

“Ok, so am I taking you guys to the after party, or-”

 

 

“No, home. Please. Just take us home. Thank you Sam.” Kurt's words are clipped and Blaine knows that's he trying not to blow it completely. He doesn't mean to take it out on Sam, they all know this. Blaine, unsure what to do, decides to press the button on the control pad of his door and watches as the privacy divider starts to hum it's way up. Sam nods in silent acknowledgement through the mirror and flicks on the car radio so that music is now only filtering through the speakers in the front of the car.

Sam is probably completely used to this, Blaine can only imagine how many times Sam has been subjected to this behaviour. He wonders how many times he will have to be subjected to this in the future, although it has been a year and this is the worst yet.

 

 

Blaine blows out a deep breath and twists in his seat as best as he can under the restrain of the seatbelt. He fidgets with his bowtie and loosens it a little, his throat muscles relaxing with the freedom. He drums his finger tips lightly along the leather stitched cushions beside his thigh, to keep from reaching out, he knows that Kurt won't appreciate it right now. “Kurt?”

 

 

“Don't Blaine.” His words are almost croaked. Blaine sighs, feeling slightly pissed because for once they weren't bothered by press or fans, no tonight it had to be an idiotic blast from Kurt's past, Blaine had forgotten to factor that possibility into the equation.

 

 

“Kurt don't let that asshole, whoever he was, an idiot on an ego trip, ruin a good night, I had fun, and you did too, I know you did.” He waits. Nothing. Just the sloshing of vodka as it's raised to Kurt's lips and back down again.  

 

 

In most instances the probable best thing to do is in fact let it go, let Kurt ride out his emotions and sleep it off. But Blaine knows better now, he knows Kurt, and this is something he strongly believes needs to be aired out, for no reason other than helping Kurt calm down and ease out his bad mood.

 

 

There is obviously an issue with that Bret guy, an issue personal to Kurt and that means that there is an element of him which is probably part of the reason why Kurt is the way that he is, and because Blaine is hell bent on helping Kurt and making him feel more comfortable in his own skin, that means he has to get to the bottom of this Bret issue. Dangerous territory, but important all the same, he keeps his voice even and steady and most importantly softly quiet and calm. 

 

 

“What happened in there Kurt? What was that douche bag even talking about? Is he an ex or something?”

 

 

“He wishes. An acquaintance if that, no, a mistake, that's who he is, a joke.” The words are bitten out with a slight growl and Blaine feels like he's being spoken at rather than to or answered, but it's a start, at least Kurt's talking at all.  

 

 

“So you've, you and he have-”

 

 

“Once, a long time ago, never again. He's only after one thing, only cares about himself. They're all like that.” It's like he's talking in riddles, in cryptic code and Blaine has to try and store some of these words away in his memory to try and decipher later.

 

 

Kurt still isn't facing him or making any sudden or large movements, but if Blaine squints carefully he can just make out Kurt's pale reflection in the car window. He can see the sad glimmer in his ocean like eyes, the wrinkled frown in his brow and the slight pout of his pretty lips. Blaine wishes he could just spin him around and take him in his arms, not yet.

 

 

“You know there's no doubt going to be repercussions from what you said to that lady on the way out.” Kurt shrugs and tsk's. “Probably wasn't the smartest thing you could have done.” Kurt doesn't move.

 

 

Blaine thinks about staying up all night, logging on to the news site's and reading the entertainments headlines first thing in the morning, he thinks about how he can somehow perform some damage control. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't hear, or understand properly, she did look a little perplexed. Or maybe that whatever does come out in the wash may end up being in Kurt's favour somehow. Blaine doesn't know enough about the situation to think too deeply about it and Kurt clearly couldn't care less at this moment in time, so maybe he should just drop it for the time being. 

 

 

“I've never seen you like that before Kurt.”

 

 

“Like what?” Kurt's voice is soft and he hesitates before he answers, he takes another small sip from the bottle and slowly begins to turn around, Blaine tucks himself further into the back of the seat, facing him fully, giving him his undivided attention, eyes, ears and body. Kurt watches him curiously, like he's trying to work out what Blaine is thinking without just asking him and talking to him like Blaine wishes he would.

 

 

“Like the way you were with him, and when, when he was talking about me, what you said and how you said it.” Kurt begins to inch closer to Blaine, the glass bottle trembling in his hand, his suit sliding gloriously across the leather interior. Blaine swallows hard, Kurt's eyes are darkening and he's tugging his plump, liquor soaked bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

 

 

“I've told you that I care about you Blaine, you know that, I couldn't have him of all people, talk about you that way, nobody get's to talk about you that way, or look at you like that, like you're-”

 

 

“What did he mean when he said ‘one of these' about me Kurt?” Blaine's skin prickles. This is not the best time to go down this road, Kurt's swigging from that bottle like its holy water and they'll be home soon and Sam will be parking up and wanting to escort them from the car so that he can get home. But it's too late, Kurt's not inebriated, not even close, not yet, and now that it's out there Blaine wants, needs to know more.

 

 

“A PA, that fucking asshole doesn't understand the meaning of the word, he'll only take advantage, he's not worthy of y-of somebody like you.” Kurt draws closer and Blaine moves to meet him, their thighs rubbing together, knees knocking. Blaine curls his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle, pries it from Kurt's fingers and takes a small sip himself before capping the top and putting it down in a holder. The vodka burns as it trickles down his throat, the scent strong in his nose and everything seems suddenly intensified. The back of the car seeming suddenly darker and smaller and Kurt is just there. He places his hand on Kurt's knee, and grips soft but firm.

 

 

“K-Kurt, can I ask you something?” It's something he's been thinking about for a long time, something he's been silently suspicious of and now it's on the tip of his tongue, curdling up his throat along with the traces of liquor. He's not drunk but he feels it, he feels light headed and like he can already taste regret on his tongue, but he must say this, he must know.

 

 

Kurt nods, his pupils almost blown, breath escaping his lips in short warm huffs which fan against Blaine's chin and jaw.

 

 

“When-when you hired me it was, it was Carole's suggestion wasn't it, she-she helped you look for a PA, she had set the ball in motion?” Kurt nods again, his eyes widening yet softening at the same time, like he's almost expecting what Blaine is going to say next.

 

 

Blaine opens his mouth, his words coming out too breathy and soundless, an almost stutter, he tries again. “But, it wasn't a PA you wanted though, was it. You didn't necessarily need one?” Kurt doesn't move or answer, but he continues looking, silently, patiently, his eyes so wide, his face almost expressionless. He's waiting, waiting for Blaine to continue.

 

 

Blaine's throat feels like sandpaper, his tongue too big and too heavy, he breathes and calms himself, doesn't look away from Kurt's piercing gaze, somehow he draws strength from looking at him so deeply.

“You, you wanted a friend, Carole wanted a friend for you, somebody you could rely on and become close to, somebody new, with no connections to your past.” He pauses and Kurt blinks at him, those lashes so long, fanning his rosy cheeks as they flutter downwards, Blaine thinks he's possibly become mute. Blaine carries on though, his voice is barely there anymore, hoarse and rough, but nothing but sincere and earnest.

 

 

“And-and so you chose me, why did you choose me?” Kurt's lips part, his pink tongue slick and wet darting out to lick self consciously along the crease, his words rush out of him like their burning his throat, rasped and rough. He looks so broken and beautiful and Blaine can barely stop himself from taking those lips between his own.

 

 

“Because you were somebody, not just anybody, I knew that about you from the moment I saw you, I-I've tried so hard to fight these feelings back or you, but I-I just couldn't let you walk out of that building that day, I knew that I had to know you.”

 

 

Blaine imagines that this is what it feels like to be drowning, or something like it, like your throat is closing and you just can't breathe no mater how much you gulp and you gulp, your head is filling and spiralling and everything is too much and also not enough. He will never forget the way that Kurt is looking at him right now, it's probably the most haunting, stunning sight he's ever seen. Blaine has never felt so much in his life, than he has in this one moment, feeling everything and nothing all at the same time. His hand is trembling against Kurt's knee, he lifts it shakily to raise to Kurt's face, his neck, anywhere he can.

 

 

“Kurt-”

 

 

The car screeches to a halt, and there's a rumbling outside, Blaine looks out of the window and Kurt looks out of the other one to see that they're home, pulling into the condo's underground garage and the electronic shutters are sliding closed all around them, the garage lighting up all around outside of the tinted windows.

 

 

Blaine can't get any words from his head onto his tongue fast enough, can't get his limbs to connect with his brain, to move, to do something, anything, and then Sam is opening his door, waiting patiently outside.

 

 

Kurt blinks at him silently, he fidgets, his hands in his lap, shoulder's hunching inwards, he looks utterly lost. Blaine doesn't even think, doesn't care about the open door and Sam standing aimlessly just out of sight, he reaches for Kurt and there's a moment, a short a crazy moment where Kurt looks like he's letting him, pushing himself forwards to meet Blaine, and then he stands as best he can and climbs out of Blaine's side of the car, clambering over the top of him.

 

 

Blaine isn't quite sure what the hell has just happened, all he can hear is the pounding of his heart flooding his ears and the sounds of Kurt's shoes meeting the concreted ground, echoing off of the empty walls as he makes his way over to the elevator shaft.

 

 

Blaine's chest thumps for a moment, and then he's getting up too and gliding out of the car after Kurt, all but running across the lot, with Sam, left standing flabbergasted by the vacant car, totally forgotten about.

 

 

This conversation is far from over, not for Blaine, not ever.


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