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We DO NOT own any characters except Trey and Jordan.

Kurt woke up the next day with abandoned eyeliner smudged around his eyelids and a throbbing headache. He hobbled out of his bedroom wearing a tight tanktop with some movie quote scrawled in golden ink and a pair of checkered boxers.

"Trey?" he called, hearing enthusiastic humming coming from the kitchen. He turned the corner and poked his head through the open door. A brunet boy with shaggy, unbrushed hair, sported a pair of glasses that were perched on his nose. He stood in front of the stove, wearing a pair of too tight fuchsia jeans that didnt reach his ankles. The boy turned around squeaked running out of the room.

"Its cool, I saw you," Kurt laughed, digging through the sink to find the least horrifically, dirty mug.

He entered the room again, looking awkward, "Im, uh, Jordan."

"Kurt,"

"Wheres, uh, Trey?" Jordan asked, blinking uncomfortably.

"Oh, shit youre one of Treys? Damn, I didnt think the little man had it in him, you seem more Elliots type." Nick exclaimed, entering the room, his white trenchcoat billowing out behind him, he came behind Jordan, brushing the boys arm gingerly with his own.

"Jesus, Nick." Elliot grinned, trailing after the trenchcoated man, completely naked and unashamed, "Hes totally Treys type, opposites attract."

"But," Nick began, jabbing an accusatory finger at Elliot, "youre always talking about your weakness for cute, shy boys,"

"Mm," Elliot muttered, leaning in to look at Jordan closer, "You are fucking adorable, Ill give you that."

"Um," Was all Jordan said.

"Fucks sake, guys, give him some space, and El, put some fucking pants on." Kurt rolled his eyes, hopping up to sit on the counter and dabbing at his smudged eye liner using the toasted as a mirror.

"Where is Trey?" Nick asked, opening the tea cupboard and closing it after a few moments, "Shouldnt he be out here making breakfast for his little dormouse?"

Jordan raised his eyebrows at the nickname, "Actually, uh, I was making breakfast, I was, um, pancakes?"

Everyone froze.

"Wait, you, you can cook?" Nick whispered, shocked,

Kurt cried out in protest, "Nick, I can cook too, remember?"

"But not..." Elliott started, excited at the aspect of actual baked goods, "Pancakes."

"Trey!" Nick called, "Were keeping your lover, hes our slave now!" He grinned at Jordan, like an alligator would its prey, and tucked a piece of hair into the band of his eyepatch.

"Whats that?" Trey asked, looking confused, as he slipped in the kitchen, his hair ruffled and fluffy, "Hey, Jordan, I see you met them."

"Uh, yeah." Jordan replied, smiling awkwardly at the blond, as Nick circled him in wonder.

"Nick." Trey muttered, as a warning, "Stop scaring our guest."

"And put fucking pants on, Elliott," Kurt repeated.

"Do you smoke, Jordy baby?" Elliott asked, completely ignoring Kurt.

"Yeah." Jordan replied, giving a short nod, and avoiding all eye contact with the naked man who stood in front of him.

"Lets go, boys," Elliot grinned, pulling a small bag of weed from behind the fridge.

"But pancakes," Nick complained at the exact time that Kurt said, "Put on pants."

"There is a time for both those things, and now, is not then." Elliot replied, for dramatic effect, pointing at Nick.

Trey shot Jordan an apologetic look, "I wish I could say they arent like this all the time, but, they are,"

"Its fine," Jordan nodded, smiling slightly, "Theyre fun, I like that, I would like it more if he put on clothes though."

"Thats what I said!" Kurt exclaimed, throwing a pillow at Elliot.

Elliot just grinned and waved the bag of weed at him, "Lets go."

After an hour or so of rolling and lighting joint after joint Kurt decided he couldnt stay home with them anymore,

"Im going out, I have my phone though, so text me, Nick stop staring at Jordan like youre going to eat him, and Elliot put on fucking pants,"

"See you!" Trey called, sweetly, from his perch, leaning against Jordans legs.

"Bye!" Elliot and Nick chorused.

So Kurt left, wrapping his light grey coat tighter around his shoulders as he hopped down the staircase that lead to the bitter air and streets of New York City. After 20 minutes of wandering, Kurt found himself at the entrance of the club from last night. He hovered for a moment, the warmth reflecting off his skin and reminding him of the creeping cold that was slowly taking control of his body. He walked in.

He wasnt sure what he was looking for, Blaine, maybe, a drink more likely. He coasted carefully and quietly over to the bar, pulling out his ID to flash as he ordered a Gin and Tonic. He sat carefully strung across one and a half bar stools, raking the crowd with his eyes hoping to see a familiar face. No one caught his eye, and he spun toward the counter in defeat, taking a large sip of his drink.

Blaine woke up, the sun shining through his curtains, his head pounding and his ears ringing. He didnt even drink that much, okay maybe that was a small lie. He stumbled out into his living room, Jordan and Rachel were nowhere to be see. Usually they were either both sprawled on the couches or shuffling around in and out of rooms.

He dragged himself into the kitchen to make himself some tea, then something dawned on him. Rachel wasnt here. He could smoke. He barreled into his room grabbing his pack of smokes, not knowing how long Rachel would be gone for. He looked for one of his many lighters, papers fluttered to the floor and pens rolled, he finally found a small pink one.

Blaine smiled, sticking the cigarette into his mouth lighting it. He breathed in the cancer and let the smoke fill his lungs. His eyes closed and he walked back into the kitchen where his kettle was screaming. Blaine took it off the burner, he opened the old dingy cupboard and grabbing out a wide white mug that said "I 3 NYC". Blaine laughed at the over used phrase, he opened a drawer searching through the many teas they had.

"Sleepy Time, English Breakfast, Camomile, Peppermint, Gingerbread, ooh that fucker almost drank all of my passion fruit tea," Blaine mumbled to himself. He grabbed the box and took out the last bag of his favorite tea.

Blaine poured the steaming hot water into the mug, and watched as the water turned a dark pink. He took his mug into the living room placing it on the nice Barbra Streisand coaster Rachel bought.

Blaine went to the window and flicked out the cigarette butt. He left the window open and went around opening every other window. He then dug around in their supply closet and found a Febreze bottle. He grinned. Rachel would never know.

Blaine flopped down on the nice black couch, mug in hand. He sighed and took a sip, instantly regretting it when the tea burned his mouth.

"Not so passionate, huh? Motherfucker," Blaine whispered to the mug, placing it down on the coaster.

He sat in silence thinking about his night, seeing Kurt, finding out he was gay, talking to him. It was overwhelming. After Blaine got bored of waiting for his tea to cool down, he got up and made his way to the bathroom.

He turned the knobs, water came spitting out of the nozzle. Blaine pulled off his shirt and shimmied out of his pants. The steam fogged up the mirror, but Blaine could still see himself, he wondered if it was as weird for Kurt to see Blaine all grown up as it was for Blaine to see Kurt. He thought about how fit Kurt was, how all that old babyfat had just gone, and now he was like a fucking god. Blaine looked at his body, he wondered if he looked any different, and if he did, was it good or bad.

After a few minutes of studying himself in the mirror, it fogged over fully and he hopped into the scalding water. All of a sudden he was way more awake than before, he made a whooping noise and laughed. Once the water was perfect temperature he started to wash himself.

Blaine had changed quite a bit since him and Kurt were friends. One, he stopper wearing guyliner; Two, he cut his hair and gelled it to his head; Three, he became more polite to people; Four, started to like better music; Five, started to work out; Six, wore better clothes; and lastly he stopped getting high all the time, and drinking as much.

Kurt seemed like he hadnt at all, he was still him, guyliner and all. Blaine smiled at the thought of his old best friend.

He put on a nice black V-neck with grey skinny jeans, he looked at the clock for the first time that day and almost fell over, it was 5pm. Blaine looked around and thought about what he could do. After 3 minutes of jumping on his bed he decided on going to get coffee, smoke a bit and head to Pretty Reckless.

Blaine threw on his grey scarf and dark green jacket, he looked around his apartment to make sure he wasnt forgetting anything and shrugged, grabbing his key out of the bowl heading out.

He walked into the Starbucks he worked at on weekdays and nodded at one of his coworkers. He paused to say hi, but it was mostly to tell him he wanted a medium drip. The guy nodded and started it. When the barista handed over the medium drip, Blaine handed him the money and walked out.

He walked down the cold New York street, a half empty cup of coffee, when he passed a garbage he threw it in, grimacing. Blaine took out a cigarette and his lighter. He brought the lighter carefully up to the end of the smoke, and flicked it on. As soon as the cigarette was lit, he breathed the slightly bitter taste in, deeply.

When he finally reached the club he was tired and sore and just wanted a drink. He walked in and ordered a pint. He wondered if Kurt would be here, Probably not, but he wondered.

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