Kurt tugged Blaine through the city by the hand, walking them through subway stations and underneath neon lights until they finally came to a stop, hands clasped between them and matching grins on their faces. "Close your eyes." Kurt said hurriedly, bouncing on his toes.

"What?"

"Close your eyes, this is a surprise Blaine!" He pouted as if Blaine's behaviour was ruining his fun. "This is New York on a Saturday night I could die." Blaine deadpanned yet his smile betrayed him, giddy with excitement and nerves and this man. "You won't die I promise, it's just down this street."

"Ugh fine" Blaine conceded, closing his eyes and feeling Kurt's arm curl protectively around his waist as they started to walk.

They walked slowly, giving the people scuttling by a wide berth as they shuffled along the sidewalk, laughing and clutching at each other. Blaine let out a squeaky giggle as Kurt pulled him into a sharp turn, they stopped abruptly and Kurt wrapped both arms around Blaine's waist as he stumbled.

In an attempt to figure out where they were without disobeying Kurt's instruction to keep his eyes closed, Blaine listened intently, catching the faint sound of trumpets beneath the rumble of traffic. "Kurt, where the hell are we?" Blaine said nervously as a group to their left burst out into boisterous laughter. "Okay okay!" Kurt chuckled, hooking his chin over Blaine's shoulder and kissing his cheek "Before I tell you to open your eyes I just want you to know that we don't even have to stay, I think you'll like where we are but I wasn't sure if it was really your thing."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Blaine said impatiently, "but can I please open my eyes now?"

"Okay open!"

Blaine blinked his eyes open and gasped. In front of them was a beautiful old building, tucked between other, more nondescript buildings that lined the alleyway Kurt had brought them to. The building was made of old red brick and above the large black doors hung an elegant sign bearing the name of the establishment: Lucille's Jazz & Blues Club.

"Kurt..." Blaine mumbled breathlessly.

"I know the owner of the place and I asked if I could bring you along tonight seeing as you're not 21 yet. Lucky for us Lucille's isn't exactly the most above board place in the city and Santana said you could get in if you were hot."

"She-"

"Oh she's gay. She just likes making people uncomfortable, she's always been that way in fact, and I've known her since high school." Kurt added, whilst guiding a wide eyed Blaine toward the doors.

Kurt gave his name to the man on the door, and he smiled as he opened the doors for them, eyes shining with mirth as Blaine meandered into the velvet lined corridor ahead, smiling broadly and breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke, whiskey and sweat. Kurt couldn't stop staring. He'd never seen Blaine so entranced, taking in his surroundings with unbridled excitement and awe, the likes of which he had never seen before. Stepping into Lucille's was like stepping back in time to the 1920s and Blaine looked as if he belonged there, amongst the plush booths, the dim lights and cigar smoking gentlemen.

Blaine slipped away from him, hips swaying deliciously to the seductive sound of soft drums and sweeping piano melodies. He took a seat at the bar, glancing almost longingly at the stage and the grand piano just to the left of it. His eyes shone in the dim light of the bar and he looked stunning. Everything about him in that moment screamed perfect. This was Blaine Anderson, the beautiful, young starving artist that could have fallen straight from the Jazz Age and into modern day New York City. Kurt had never been more certain that he was falling in love with him, if he hadn't already.

"Kurt! Kurt!" Blaine called, grinning from ear to ear as the bar staff laughed good-naturedly. He looked like a child who had just discovered its new favourite toy. "This place is amazing!"

"Why thank you strangely hot man child." A voice drawled from behind him. "Santana, it's good to see you." Kurt said smiling as he hugged her tightly. "Yeah long time no see Hummel; I hope you haven't been doling out your talent to any of those jazz clubs out in Chicago." She quipped, tugging on a wisp of her silky black hair as she looked each of them up and down in turn. "Talent?" Blaine asked bemusedly, ignoring the mention of Chicago.

"That's right hottie from the Shire; Hummel here was the joint's nightly entertainer back when he was a struggling writer."

"I'm still struggling Satan." He glared at her but remembered the time fondly. "Oh yeah right Mister 'New York Times Best Selling Author'." She snapped back. "I didn't know you sang professionally?" Blaine wondered, looking up at Kurt from his place on the bar stool and slipping his hand into his. "It was hardly professional," Kurt smiled squeezing Blaine's hand as he regaled him with the story, "I was just helping a friend out with her new business, she needed entertainment and I needed money and to get a book published. It worked."

"Best damn singer we've ever had, but tell me Blaine - sweetheart - do you sing?"

~*~

"This was part of the deal wasn't it? Getting me in, she didn't just want me to be hot she wanted me to sing?" Blaine said incredulously as he stood with Kurt in the wings of the stage. "Okay, yes I may have mentioned that you have an incredible voice and you might be willing to share it with the patrons but you don't have to, we can leave remember, go back to the apartment or I could just walk you home. There's no pressure Bl-"

"No."

"No what?"

"No I'll do it. She clearly thinks I'll clam up because I'm young or whatever. I've been listening, singing, playing this stuff since I was six I can do it."

"Like hell you can baby." Kurt cheered, kissing him on the cheek.

"How long until she..."

"About half an hour maybe. We have time. Do you want to maybe find a table?" Kurt asked, leading Blaine from backstage by the hand. "No, I think I'll - go talk to the band."

Kurt laughed, smiling brightly as Blaine threw his arms around him. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his curly head before pulling away. Blaine looked up at him, expression unreadable until he brought their lips together for a hard, deep kiss, sending shockwaves coursing through Kurt's body all the way down to his curling toes. "Thank you." He whispered as he pulled back, face etched with gratitude for much more than just bringing him out to a Jazz club. He smiled sweetly before turning and making his way toward the band.

~*~

"Whiskey for your baby?" Santana smirked as she followed Kurt from the bar, a drink in each of his hands. "I've gotta do something while he makes friends with the band." Kurt said distractedly as he wove between the tables. "Aww is Kurtie feeling neglected?" She muttered as Kurt watched Blaine laugh and talk animatedly with a cellist. "No but oh my god he's so fucking charismatic. I've yet to meet anyone who dislikes him or a soul that can keep their eyes off him, him and that god damn smile and his whiskey eyes, Jesus I am so-"

"Fucked?" Santana supplied with a soft smile, taking the drink she knew was for Kurt and pushing him forward. "I err, yeah that pretty much sums it up." With a deep breath and a smile, he slipped away from her.

Blaine was sitting at the piano when Kurt found him, almost hidden amongst sheet music, a discarded trombone, several ashtrays and empty glasses and a gaggle of rather loose-looking band members. They wolf whistled as he approached and despite his discomfort he smiled at the beautiful shade of red Blaine had turned whilst he was playing. Kurt slid by accepting pats on the shoulder and broad knowing grins until he slipped onto the stool next to Blaine, watching him intently.

Watching Blaine play was entrancing and Kurt couldn't look away from his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys. He was lost in the music, like every chord was a new path to travel and every note a revelation. He brought his song to a close and leant in for a kiss, grinning as the band wolf whistled again. "Hey," Kurt said softly after they'd parted, "I brought you a drink."

"Why mister Hummel," Blaine exclaimed in mock indignation, taking the glass from him and drinking a generous mouthful "plying someone underage with alcohol, how awful of you." Kurt laughed heartily, leaning against him with an arm wrapped around his waist. "Says the boy who I'm betting has a cigarette burning in that ashtray over there and already managed to sneak his way in here."

"Hey, you brought me here!" Blaine exclaimed once more. It was then that Kurt realised that perhaps he wasn't the only one that had been plying him with alcohol. He looked at Blaine's wild curls, flushed face and overall slightly dishevelled appearance and was struck by how gorgeous he looked, sexy with his bowtie and collar undone, his shirtsleeves rolled up and sweat dampening his neck and collarbone.

Blaine shrugged and reached across the piano to put down his glass and pick up his fading cigarette, bringing it to his lips before exhaling smoke up into the already stifling air. He looked across at Kurt and hummed thoughtfully. "You've got that look again."

"Look? What look?"

"The look that says you wanna fuck me." Blaine stated matter-of-factly. Kurt began to stammer. "Blaine, it's time." Santana called and Blaine sauntered away tossing a flirtatious wink and a smile over his shoulder as he made his way to the stage, leaving Kurt strangely speechless and trembling in his wake.

~*~

Kurt was ushered to a table in the front row as the lights began to dim. Santana slid into the chair next to him, a devilish grin suggesting she knew something Kurt and the rest of the club didn't. A familiar baseline started up and a spotlight hit the stage just as Blaine, a debauched vision in vintage couture began to snap his fingers. Instantly, the club could recognise what song Blaine was going to sing and the raw sensuality of the uncomplicated rhythm combined with his smokey, sultry tenor struck him to the core, making him shiver and his eyes blow wide in the secretive darkness of the audience.

Blaine's eyes smouldered in the golden stage lights, burning and the colour of bourbon as he sang. His eyes met Kurt's as his hand slid suggestively down the microphone stand, caressing the metal as the song continued. He'd never seen him look so powerful, so confident. He had always known that Blaine was unbelievably comfortable in his body, that he was aware of his desires and well acquainted with sex and his sexuality. But Kurt wanted him. Craved him, under him, over him, he was desperate for him in any way possible. It was familiar but strange at the same time. He'd always wanted him, but Blaine seemed so untouchable now like he'd grown into a sensual fantasy just out of reach, he kept slipping from his grasp like waking from a dream.

That want burned, searing with an undercurrent of dangerous jealousy as Blaine tugged on the tie of a hungry looking blonde in a corner booth and blew a busty brunette a kiss from where he'd draped himself across the bar.

He lifted himself up and began to saunter back toward the stage, but just before reaching the stairs he turned slowly, prowling straight toward Kurt who couldn't look away.

"What a lovely way to burn" he sang, voice rough as he dropped gracefully into his lap. "What... A lovely way to burn" he whispered huskily. Santana barely had time to catch the microphone as Blaine dropped it to tangle his hands in Kurt's hair and bring him close for a slow, filthy kiss.

"Hey baby," Blaine crooned, grinning and playing with a stray tendril of Kurt's hair "so what do you think? Was I a hit?"

"I think," Kurt began, unable to look away from the man in his lap, his eyes shining with excitement, face flushed and radiant, "you're going to be the death of me Blaine Anderson, especially after tonight."

"Oh I hope not," he replied, "otherwise who will take me home?"

"Are you..."

"One more song and then- one more song and we'll go home." Blaine said earnestly, all bravado lost suddenly to the look of desperation in Kurt's eyes as he held him tight "I know what you- it's okay I promise just one more song."

He made his way slowly toward the stage, taking the microphone back from Santana with a smile. Standing in the spotlight he took a deep breath, eyes closed against the glare. A smile quirked the corner of his lips as the audience went silent and he finally opened his eyes again, focussing on Kurt and Kurt alone.

"At last..."