"What? Why would he say I was nine?" Blaine gave him a sideways glare.

"How should I know?" Kurt shrugged innocently. The curly haired boy sighed with annoyance as he opened the doors and waited for Kurt to step off the elevator. He nodded in thanks and walked to the middle of the hallway, suitcase in hand. Blaine headed towards the one with the golden G against the dark red, shiny wood and turned the key, opening the door.

As soon as they walked into Blaine's apartment, Jeff's words resonated in his ears, "He's lucky enough to have no money issues". The place was lovely and even both the dainty furniture and mesmerizing view out the window were enviable. He stood there, agape with his suddenly too small suitcase and –though polished and well taken care of, thank you very much- leather satchel, clutching them both closely.

Blaine eyed him funnily.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's like... pretty big, but it's rather nice, just... Whatever," he shook his head and cocked his head to the side, staring at Kurt. "Wait, though, so what's up with you? I mean, Jeff told me you would be coming but I don't really get it. Also, you don't seem to like me very much."

"Wha— That's... crazy, I don't even know you," Kurt trailed off somewhat awkwardly. It was just a first impression. "Jeff spoke greatly of you though, so I wouldn't mind... Getting to. Know you," he mumbled in a soft voice. "That is..." Blaine was staring at him like that again, as though Kurt was a hilariously lost lamb or something.

"I wouldn't have a problem with that either," Blaine resolved, a tad too pleased with himself, gesturing with wide open arms. "That still doesn't explain the suitcase," he pointed out with the same firm, amused tone. Kurt tried not to drag a hand down his face.

"What's your id—-"

"It's not like we're there yet," Blaine said sarcastically, walking towards the kitchen.

"There? There where?" Kurt asked. Now he was lost.

"You know, there. In that place in our relationship," he shrugged, still a tint of mock to his voice.

"... Whatrelationship?" Kurt asked, wide eyed. Blaine was frowning at him. "What on Earth are you talking about?" he shrilled, exasperated.

"Wait... God, what?" Blaine sighed. "What are you even here for, to begin with? And please, tell me we're at least taking about the same Jeff," he exhaled noisily.

"Why don't we start all over?" Kurt exploded with a plastered, blown smile. "I'm here because Jeff told me he had a friend in New York who was a really nice guy with a nice, but too big apartment in a nice neighbourhood. I asked him what you meant by "too big" as in, if you were perhaps looking for a roommate because I was going to live with my best friend in Bushwick but her boyfriend came with us at the last minute which I really didn't—"

"Wait, wait," Blaine cut him just as he was gasping for air. "Wait, you want to live here?" he asked with a gleam in his hazel, now softer eyes.

"Huh, yeah, sort of," Kurt affirmed, thrown off by the sudden turn. "I mean, only if you want and you can or whatever," he shrugged, he wasn't about to beg to this guy.

"Yes..." Blaine smiled openly, changing his posture entirely, coming out from behind the white counter. "God, yes, please," he sighed, causing Kurt to eye him up and down as though he was a depraved murderer confessing his love for him.

"Huh..." was all he eloquently muttered, at a complete loss for words for the first time in the day.

"God, yes, I swear, you have no idea how lonely it gets around here," he rolled his eyes with an entirely relieved aim. Kurt's horrified eyes broadened again. "No, no, God, don't misunderstand me, not—That way, no," he laughed in a way Kurt could have only defined as belittling and implying that the mere thought of it was impossibly out of this world. "No, no, God, not at all," the man went on.

"You say God a lot," Kurt pointed out, squinting a little bit. "Are you one of those irrevocable fanatics? You know..." he wielded his hand in the air. "One of those crazy, delirious people?"

"You mean religious?" Blaine's face contorted.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, throwing his head back, as though he had been trying to remember the term for a long time. Blaine chuckled grudgingly.

"No, I am not," he sentenced with a fake smile and steering the conversation back. "But anyway, no, I didn't mean it that way," he nodded tightly. "I meant it as in this apartment is big and I'm used to having a brother and I boarded during most of my high school experience, so..." he explained, keeping it civil. "It just feels... empty, you know?"

Kurt knew many things about feeling lonely. Perhaps even about feeling empty himself.

"So you thought Jeff was sending you... a permanent hooker?" his nose crinkled.

"What? No! God, what..." Blaine shrieked, outraged. "No," he continued, rubbing his chest. "Gee, what is wrong with you?" he breathed, the deep crease on his brow mildly disappearing.

"Anyway, so?" Kurt rolled his eyes, dragging his bored voice.

"No, no, I thought he had 'sent' you as a possible date," he further clarified.

Kurt's eyes glimpsed to the left. "And didn't you think it was weird I was flying in from another state to date you?" he asked at a slow pace.

"Well," Blaine grinned openly at the floor, coking an eyebrow and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, give me a break," he cried out, raising his hands in exasperation.

"I'm joking," Blaine approached him, flailing with his arms. "I'm not that conceited. But no, I didn't know anything about you, no idea where you're from. I just thought he was suggesting we... went out, that's all," he insisted, looking into Kurt's eyes for any trace of disbelief left. Once he was sure and satisfied he stepped away. "But apparently Jeff doesn't know me that well," he raised his eyebrows with a knowing, accomplice-ish grin. He blinked and headed back to the kitchen, taking a mug from one of the cabinets over his head, standing on his toes, slightly stretching his torso.

It was his turn to sting.

"Oh... Yeah, no, you're not really my type, either," he scrunched up his nose, shaking his head, Blaine's head turning to him, now searching for a spoon in one of the drawers. "You know, too..." he marked the air at the height of his shoulder with his right hand. "No, no," he sighed with an airy, indifferent smile. The other boy pursed his lips, never breaking eye contact and Kurt caught how his jaw shifted and he straightened up.

Bingo.

"Great. Then I'm assuming we'll have no problem," he established once more, leaning on the counter. "You know, other than your attitude, that is," he shrugged ironically, waving it off.

"Well, that ain't going nowhere anytime soon, so..." the unnecessarily snappy words continued to flee his mouth.

"Won't be necessary," Blaine pushed, leaving the mug aside.

"Good, cause it's part of the whole package," he continued, filterless.

"Not a problem," he said through gritted teeth, uncorking a bottle of wine with a dry smile. He took it and briskly walked past the couch, up to a door and opened it. "This is your room, hope you find it of your liking," he waved inside, not-so-restrained anger showing in his every move.

"Thank you," he snapped already next to him, suitcase in hand. "I'm sorry," Kurt retorted wryly, looking him dead in the eye.

"Same," he returned the cold stare.

"Goodbye," he established as he went into his room, chin up.

"Goodbye," he strode off to his own with the slam of the door, closing his just as harshly.
----------
When he woke up, the sky was already dark, stars just starting to show against the dark blue background. He assumed he must've been sleeping for at least five hours. And boy, did it feel like it. He sat up on his bed, so well rested that his eyelids continued to feel heavy, still surprised at the tact of the soft, silky quilt. If the kitchen and living room hadn't already screamed "Upper Class!" the bedroom certainly did. The sheets were undoubtedly expensive and first quality; the pillows had put Kurt to sleep as soon as he had laid his immaculate coiffed head on them and even the dark timber frame of the window above the bed suggested wealth.

He got up with no hurries, fidgeting and not quite knowing what to do with himself. It had been like a switch before, which had been turned on at the first hint of attack –only now that Kurt remembered, Blaine's poor responses didn't even qualify as rude- as a silly, pointless defense mechanism. He knew he had to apologize; he only hoped Blaine would be out there and not locked in his bedroom.

Fortunately for him, as soon as he opened the door, day clothes still on, Kurt spotted a mass of curls hanging low, cheek on hand, mid-kitchen. He swayed on his place, pursing his lips, doubting as to how approach this. He exhaled and simply started walking towards the kitchen.

"So you mentioned before you boarded at your old high school," he said, Blaine's gaze tearing away from the crossword he was doing. "What was that like?" he sat on one of the high stools surrounding the kitchen island in the middle of the space.

He looked taken aback at the civil treatment. "Well..." He cleared his throat, standing ramrod straight against the black wooden island with the white surface. He looked thoughtful for a minute. "It was nice," he settled for before turning around and heading for the countertop, leaving his cup on the sink, this time leaving Kurt mute.

"I was going for conversational here," Kurt quipped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he faked innocent remorse with opened eyes.

"Look, we clearly got off with the wrong foot," Kurt stated. Blaine crossed his arms, resting against the sideboard, offering his attention. "I don't know what came over me, just one second you were being decently nice, the next one you were driving me out of my mind and I just wanted to climb up the walls and-"

"Straying from the point," he spelled out calmly.

"Right, the thing is... I'm sure you're a nice person," he gave in with a resigned sigh. "A perfectly nice person," he admitted, recalling Jeff's words and glancing at those big, whisky-amber, glossy eyes.

Blaine just stared at him. Deadly, unyieldingly stared at him, eyes fixed on Kurt's.

"I haven't been mad in years," he said after what felt like years.

Kurt blinked. "What?"

"I haven't felt this relaxed in years and I didn't even know it was possible," he shrugged, averting his gaze casually. "It's like the first words people use to describe me are either dapper, or gentleman or charming..." he went on. "And that's perfectly fine, I mean, it's who I am, but sometimes the pressure becomes too much..." he quieted, as though he was already saying things that were neither important nor appropriate to chat so freely about with a next-to-stranger. "I box," was what he told instead after other few minutes.

"O— What?" he asked, completely taken aback again at the sudden, random confessions.

"Back at Dalton we had a sort of a..." he let out a chuckle, shoulders and arms twitching in their places. "A Fight Club, if you will," he raised an eyebrow, eyes unfocused to the side, the smile lingering. "It was pretty fun and I think I basically became accustomed to it," he established. "I've been boxing and doing that sort of stuff every since," he finished with another shrug.

A silence settled between them.

Kurt had honestly no idea what to say or do with that information and it looked like Blaine had run out of things to say and was now perhaps regretting his non-preoccupied rant.

"I had a pretty good nap, too," Blaine's head snapped up from where his eyes were glued to the floor. "I'm guessing I used my brain more in those thirty minutes fighting with you than in the past five months," he felt relief and satisfaction wash over him as he sensed a weight being lifted off the shoulders of the boy standing in front of him. "I never really felt... challenged back at home, so... I guess my astuteness had put itself to sleep," he shook his head. Blaine was giving him a soft smile, which he unconsciously returned.

Blaine laughed again contentedly, arms dissolving to his sides, clearly searching for something to busy themselves with.

"Yeah, well," he mumbled, hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck. "Did you like your room?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded vigorously. "Yes, it's wonder— it's beautiful," he breathed with adoration.

"That's good," Blaine nodded, pleased but still not entirely comfortable. "I was about to cook something," he gestured to the long counter behind him, bending to look for a chopping board, throwing open one of the small doors.

"Perhaps I should help you," he proposed, Blaine turning to merely smile at him, now seeking a knife in a drawer. "You know, just so you don't burn down the building or something," he noticed how his arms stopped working in its tracks. "I doubt hobbits are known for their gastronomic expertise," he followed, nearing Blaine and taking the knife from his hand.

"Then you obviously have never seen Bilbo Baggins' hobbit hole," he smirked in his direction, tension draining from his torso.

"Never seen those movies," Kurt tightened his lips, eyes focused on the knife.

"You just keep on adding reasons," the other one chuckled as he ducked to grab a few tomatoes.

"On why we should argue?"

"On why we should argue," Blaine nodded from behind the refrigerator door with an amused spark in his eyes.