Blaine decided against offering Kurt a glass of red wine as they settled themselves on the new couch in Blaine's living room, and instead they both nursed cups of coffee and split half of the cheesecake Maggie had made Blaine to congratulate him after his exhibition. They curled up at opposite ends of the couch, Blaine sinking into the corner with an exhausted sigh, hugging a throw pillow as he sipped at his coffee.

"I want to thank you," Kurt began after a few moments of thoughtful silence, "for giving me another chance, and for being so gracious about, well everything really." Blaine tipped his head to the side and smiled warmly. He was tired and his muscles ached but despite the double meaning, he was glad he had asked Kurt to come in for coffee. He desperately wanted to keep talking to him for as long as possible. He had spent months missing just that, although back then they only ever really talked late at night, sweaty and tangled between the sheets as the moon looked on and the sounds of the city kept their whispered secrets.

"There's no need." Blaine whispered quietly, touching Kurt's thigh fleetingly, yet the touch of skin to denim sent shockwaves through his sluggish nerves. "Thank you for apologising and making amends. I'm glad we both agreed that we'd do things properly this time around, even just as friends." Blaine took a tentative sip from his mug, using it as an excuse to look away from Kurt's hopeful gaze. "About that," Kurt began, voice wobbling slightly with nerves "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to change that sometime, in the near future, I-I mean you don't have to say yes and hey no hard feelings if you don't or if you think it's too soon or-"

"Yes."

"-because I know that I've messed up but I really like you always have in fact and I-"

"God damn it Kurt, Yes!"

"What? Sorry, yes to what?"

"Just- what are you trying to ask me Kurt?"

"Blaine Anderson, will you please go on a date with me?"

"Yes!" Blaine shouted, hitting Kurt over the head with the throw pillow. "Yes, of course I will now shut up and drink your coffee."

They were silent for a while, grinning into their mugs as they settled a little closer to each other on the couch. "Blaine?" Kurt broke the silence, grinning with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Mmm" Blaine replied grinning just as wide.

"Why did the landlord think you were a hooker?"

~*~

"...and I don't think you realised how loud you said it because pretty much everyone on the same floor as us apparently heard you, I was getting weird looks for months! There was a building meeting when the new landlady took over and Mister Richards, you know the cranky old guy at number 7?"

"Yeah..."

"Well when we were asked if we had anything to discuss he just stood up and started yelling about how he didn't want ‘my type' living in the same building as him-"

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah so naturally, Mister and Missus Dennison from two doors down stood up and started shouting. Tilly, the sweetheart looked like she was gonna punch him until the guy just stood back up and yelled it wasn't because I was gay but because I was a hooker."

"Fuck what happened then?"

"The room just went silent and, just god I was so embarrassed I just stood up and said that they'd heard wrong and that my roommate and I had just come home from a night out, that I was just an art student that had a job at a bookstore on third."

"It's not that I have anything against sex workers it makes them no less of a person, it's just their job. I'm just not a hooker." Blaine said musingly. There was a long pause before a smirk pulled at Kurt's lips. "You would make an excellent hooker though."

"What?! Oh my God, Kurt!"

"You have such a filthy mouth, guys would pay thousands..."

"I d- I do not Kurt Hummel oh my fucking-"

"Yes you do, remember that one time after Satin you were a man possessed-"

"Shut up! That was different-"

"No God you were just taking it, babbling and whining like a fucking porn star."

"I was not."

"You were too."

"I-"

" ‘Oh God baby harder. That's it fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me with that big dick fuck fuck.' "

"I hate you and I should never have told you that story."

~*~

7PM quickly turned to midnight and midnight swiftly became 2AM before Blaine even considered going to bed. Kurt had fallen asleep not long ago and Blaine had taken the opportunity to just sit quietly, somewhat creepily sketching the fan of his lashes against his sleep pink cheeks, the broadness of his chest, rising and falling with every deep and even breath. It was... weird Blaine knew but couldn't resist, didn't know when he'd have another opportunity to immortalise this beautiful man in paper and charcoal.

Blaine could never bring himself to ask Kurt to model for him. It always seemed too intimate, too revealing of both model and artist. He'd worked with many a model before, some in various states of undress but nothing felt more intimate or intimidating than having Kurt right in front of him for hours at a time, so far yet so close, long enough for him to capture almost every detail of him, from the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, to the elegant length of his fingers, calloused at the tip from incessant use of his typewriter.

Soon 2AM became 3AM and Blaine's eyes kept slipping shut, his mouth gaping wide with a yawn. It was much too late to send Kurt home and he momentarily felt guilty for not having woken him earlier but something coiled quietly in his stomach at the sight of Kurt's face pushed against the soft fabric of his couch, arms curled protectively around a throw pillow Blaine had thrown at him earlier in a fit of indignation. Moving as quietly as he could Blaine tugged off the blanket he had wrapped around himself and draped it carefully over Kurt's sleeping form. Tentatively he brushed his hair back off of his forehead, smiling as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and bent down to kiss him softly on the cheek.

There was something about Kurt that was different, something that made him seem brighter, his smile bigger and his body less tense. Blaine settled himself in bed, staring across the room at the wall that held various sketches and doodles. It was hard to convince himself to sleep alone, when the warmth of Kurt's body and the security of his arms were only several feet away. He thought of padding back down the hall to the lounge and curling up with Kurt on the couch but as soon as he'd flipped the comforter back, his bare feet dangling inches from the hardwood floor he'd thought better of it. Soon, he thought. Soon they could go back to how it was before, before Kurt ran scared to Chicago.

In that moment Blaine knew that it would be better, they would be better. He'd come back, he wasn't scared anymore, or at least about them, about what they had. He knew now that all those months, the late nights and the early mornings breathing in the New York City air, that was something.

Blaine had spent months trying to convince himself that it was nothing, that his big city romance was a figment of his imagination, but Kurt had come back and despite his mistakes shown him, unmistakably that it was real. So Blaine thought it better to wait just that little bit longer because they weren't there yet, weren't quite to the point where they could fall together again and this time never stop. He switched off his lamp and waited for sleep to take him, wondering with a sweet smile if Kurt would still be there in the morning.

~*~

When I fall in love

Blaine woke early the next morning to the sounds of Nat King Cole and the quiet crackle of the needle on his record player.

It will be forever

He stumbled to the bathroom, grinning like a fool as he brushed his teeth and showered as quickly as possible. Above the sound of the water he strained to hear a voice, high and powerful, blending in with Cole's beautifully, a voice so wonderful and obviously Kurt's.  Kurt was still there, singing like the music was his soul and Blaine felt like melting into the bathroom floor as he stood by the sink, shrouded in steam. He wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at himself in the glass, eyes bright, wide and eager, boyish as he grinned and hummed along to the song trickling through the walls.

He dressed quickly, tripping over trying to pull his jeans on and almost poking himself in the eye as he shoved his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. Trying to compose himself he took a deep breath before opening the door and stepped out into the hall, but what he saw when he entered the lounge took his breath away.

In a restless world like this is.

Kurt was singing his heart out, shimmying his hips slowly as he stood barefoot and bare-chested in the kitchen as he cooked.

Love is over before it's begun.

"And too many moonlight kisses, seem to cool in the warmth of the sun." Blaine sang causing Kurt to jump and the pan to jolt dangerously on the stove. "Blaine! Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me!" Kurt said laughing as he plated up a portion of eggs. Blaine sat at the little island in the middle of his tiny kitchen, digging into the food set before him and trying not to smile with food in his mouth. "You have an amazing voice by the way," Blaine complimented after taking a sip of coffee "such a great way to wake up, Nat King Cole featuring Kurt Elizabeth Hummel."

"I woke you up? I'm sorry I just woke up and it was sunny and I remembered you'd agreed to go on a date with me last night and I guess I just got a little carried away." Kurt blushed and started clearing up the kitchen.

Blaine watched amused as Kurt began to bustle around, washing the dishes and singing under his breath. "Do you have a lot to do today?" Blaine asked, trying to suppress his laughter. "Um yeah," Kurt replied, glancing up at the clock, "I have meetings all day but this um, this evening I'm free."

"Oh really?" Blaine said teasingly.

"Yeah and I um if you're not busy tonight I'd like to take you out somewhere. I think I found somewhere that you'd really like..." Kurt trailed off looking unsure. Blaine stood up, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tight as Kurt's arms came to rest around his waist.

When I give my heart, it will be completely

"Of course," Blaine whispered against Kurt's ear and delighted in the shiver he felt running through his body "I can't wait."

Or I'll never give my heart

"You'll love it. I've got it all planned out."

"I'm sure I will baby."

"Get ready to be wooed Blaine Anderson; by the end of the evening you'll be falling in love."

"Oh sweetie, we'll see, we'll see."

And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too

Is when I'll fall in love with you.

~*~

Dress how you feel when you listen to all those old records. Dress how you feel when you're taking sips from that glass of scotch, when you're smoking that cigarette. Dress how you feel when you do what you love.

Kurt had been incredibly vague about where exactly he was taking Blaine for their date. Despite Blaine's pleading and pouting he didn't give in, just continued to smile secretly, thrilling at the fact he was so desperate to know. The only information he thought it would be important to provide Blaine with was the dress code, but Blaine was at a loss as to how glasses of scotch, old records and cigarettes could be interpreted via fashion.

There was a theme through out however that he recognised, and praying that he wouldn't be heinously overdressed, he dug out his favourite suit from the back of his closet. It was a light grey, three piece suit in subtle close pinstripes. The spring evening made it so that he wouldn't need the blazer, leaving him dressed simply yet smartly in the slacks; a white shirt rolled up to the elbows; a double breasted waistcoat and matte silver bowtie. For the first time since high school he'd slicked his hair back with gel, not so much that it was plastered to his head but enough so that his curls weren't prominently visible.

He looked himself over in the mirror and smiled. Before, his eyes were shadowed by his curls, too short to flop into his eyes but quite long enough to leave him having to brush them back whereas now, as he looked at his reflection he was struck by just how much they stood out, wide and excited and happy.

Blaine had a few guesses as to where they were going. Kurt had always paid far too much attention to Maggie's bimonthly spiels about how much of an old soul he was. Kurt's penchant for his lips was why he so often found him staring when he was at the fire escape, a cigarette wedged between his middle and forefinger. Kurt's own love of music was why he watched him dance. His love for Blaine was why sometimes, in the early hours of the morning the tap tap tap of his typewriter would halt, if but for a moment, and the old wooden chair he sat upon would creak as he turned, turned to watch Blaine paint or sketch, turned to watch him lose himself and find himself all at once in his passion.

Kurt's knock on the door was prompt and the sight of him when Blaine opened the door took his breath away. He was wearing a suit similar to Blaine's but in black. He too wasn't wearing a blazer but his waistcoat was single breasted, a red pocket square positioned neatly against his chest. On top of his neatly coiffed hair sat a crimson fedora, tilted artfully.

"Blaine you look beautiful." Kurt said breathlessly and Blaine blushed, ducking his head as his hands brushed nervously across the material of the waistcoat that clung tightly to his torso. "Thank you," Blaine replied quietly, "I've had this for quite a while; it was a gift from James, Maggie's husband."

"I presume he didn't pick it out for you?"

"Um no I picked it out. A sort of forced birthday present, he wanted me to have it, said that it was a suit of his youth and he was never likely to wear it again. ‘Besides' he'd said, ‘a good looking gentleman like yourself needs a good suit.' " Blaine recalled, lowering his voice in a booming and hearty imitation of James', causing them both to fall into fits of laughter.

He had seen the suit and instantly fallen in love with it. When Maggie and James had both started making a fuss about his birthday he had seen fit to protest every extravagant cake and every promise of gifts in the form of expensive art supplies. Despite all his attempts, the stubborn sweethearts as Blaine had come to call them, had shut the shop and strung banners and balloons about the place, a comical sight to behold between the mahogany furniture and grandiose and dusty shelves. He had felt the tears begin to fall almost as soon as he had stepped inside the shop, but after opening his first present he was practically inconsolable. It was the most beautiful leather bound sketchbook he had ever seen, silver embossed with the letters of his name. Never before had he been on the receiving end of such kindness, moved to tears because two virtual strangers, who happened to be his bosses nonetheless, decided to make him one of their own, part of a family at last.

Without their strength Blaine doubted he would've been able to forgive, to take the arm of a beautiful man and step out into the city air, drowning in happiness and feeling the warmth of someone he loved and who loved him. Never before had it felt so wonderful to be a lost boy in Neverland.