Wait, what?

Blaine?

Blaine Anderson? Blaine fucking Anderson. Blaine-Warbler-turned mentor-turned best friend- turned boyfriend turned-ex-boyfriend-lover-I’m sorry I can’t Anderson.

What the hell?

Kurt’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, his heart in overdrive at the pure shock and disbelief at the situation. “Blaine…what are you doing here?” Blaine’s expression mirrored Kurt’s, which was, to say, confusion bordering on incredulity. He opened him mouth to speak, only to have a few, breathy words come out.

“I-uh, holy shit. Kurt? How did you even…” Blaine put his hand over his head and took a seat, his eyes wide, his breath audible even to Kurt. Kurt swallowed heavily, giving himself a quick ten seconds to compose himself, check his reflection in the screen of the laptop in front of him, and carefully articulate his next words.

“Well, I, uh, I’m head of men’s fashions here.” Okay, maybe articulate was too strong of a word. His choked out sentence, however, gave him the courage to continue. “I got a memo about this meeting just this morning, and so I took the offer. I had no idea you worked at the firm…weren’t you working at that one office before? Before…” he trailed off, trying to keep the conversation light and devoid of any emotion. Blaine coughed, clearing his throat before he spoke.

“Well, after the br—, I mean the…yeah…I um, I got the chance to follow my boss to another firm. I worked there for a year and then I was given the opportunity to move up, and so I took it.” He blushed, clearly embarrassed at almost mentioning the word, it, that they were obviously trying to skirt around. Kurt smiled politely, taking a seat and crossing his legs in his signature style. He leaned back, giving off the illusion that he was calm, relaxed, even; if one were to listen to his heart rate, however, he would be sorely betrayed.

“Oh,” he barely got the one-syllable word out, his eyes wide with panic, his heart beating loudly in his ears, his mouth seemingly glued open. Blaine coughed, running a hand through his hair, eyes darting around, trying to find something to focus, something, anything other than Kurt. His eyes landed on the floor.

“Uh, yeah. S-so, listen, I don’t really thi—,” whatever it is what he wanted to say, he didn’t get the chance to, seeing as Kurt cut him off.

“Okay, well, lovely,” he paused, shuffling through his papers and pulling out a file. There was no use in prolonging this awkwardness.  To someone else, it might seem strange that Kurt was taking this so well, not panicking. But to be honest, he had been planning this—well, not this exactly—situation in his head a thousand times. Sure, his insides felt like they were mush, stirring around like a tornado. And, sure, maybe he was sweating like a madman under his cashmere sweater; he could not, however, let Blaine know that he was broken, even after all this time. Because, dammit, he was going to get through this. He was going to sketch a few pictures and design the clothes and speak to Blaine as little as possible, because that’s what people who have moved on do. That’s what Kurt was going to do.  “Well, might as well get to work. I was thinking we could do something with—“

“Wait, you actually…want to do this? Are you sure?” Kurt was startled, miffed, even, by Blaine’s interruption.

“Of course I want to do this, I’m getting paid like crazy for it.” Kurt voice cracked, his eyebrows arched into oblivion. Blaine frowned slightly, seeing right through Kurt’s façade.

“You know what I mean. If you still want to do this despite—“ Now it was Kurt’s turn to interrupt.

“Listen, Blaine, I love my work, I love what I do, and I’m not going to let some…some past…. fling,” Blaine flinched at the words, “get in the way of that, okay?” Blaine hesitated, his eyes blank, a ghost of disappointment haunting them.

“Okay. Alright. Let’s begin.”

~~~

Three hours, ten coffee cups, and twenty sheets of paper later, Kurt and Blaine found themselves bickering back and forth about a pair of pants. Their initial awkwardness turned politeness had quickly melted away, leaving a very irritable Blaine and a very sassy Kurt. The pair of pants in question were khaki shorts, made out of hemp, and the two of them couldn’t seem to agree on what shade they should be. “Clearly they need to be a taupe color, because taupe is a neutral, which, if you had any sense of fashion, you would know goes with everything!” Kurt clenched his fists in his lap, flush from the argument. Blaine smiled, welcoming the challenge.

“Okay, well, just because it could go with everything doesn’t mean it has to! Isn’t fashion all about taking thing that seemingly don’t match and finding a way to—“ Blaine’s rant was cut short by a generic ringtone coming from his cell. He sighed, checking the screen and getting up. “I’ll be right back. We’ll continue this in a sec.” Kurt smiled sarcastically.

“Fine.”   Walking out of the room, he flicked the phone open and answered it.

“Hello? Hi…hi, sweetie…yes, the meeting is still—no, I can’t, I’m trying to…” as he walked further away from the room, his voice became more quiet and quiet, until it was out of his range of hearing. Sweetie? Kurt hadn’t even given a thought to whether or not Blaine was with someone. He had just assumed that, like himself, he was single. Of course Blaine was taken; he was the perfect guy. Successful, handsome, charming….a douche bag, he thought to himself. Any man would have been more than lucky to have him Kurt felt a pang of something in his side, quickly getting up out of his chair and towards the bathroom, distracting himself before that pang had time to turn into something more, something painful.

As he neared his destination, Blaine’s voice came back into hearing. “…I told you, honey, I don’t want to be stuck here at work, I have to. I—oh my god, how could you even—of course I love you, K!” Kurt felt the wind knock out of him. K…Blaine had called Kurt that…so, he had found another lover, another “K”. Kirk? Kameron? What a stupid name, who spells Kameron with a K, when it’s clearly me—“Of course I value this marriage! Why would you even raise that question? I’m putting you first, I just need time to—okay, okay, fine. Bye!” With a loud click, Blaine shut the phone and slammed a fist against the wall.  

On the other side of the paper thin obstruction, however, Kurt was the exact opposite; he stood, frozen, his hand over his mouth. Blaine was…Blaine was married? Holy crap. He was actually married. Married to a stupid guy. Married to a stupid guy who spelled his stupid name with a K and probably lived in a stupid expensive apartment with and—Kurt had to stop himself, pinching his thigh. What did he care if Blaine was married? He was over him; he had a phonebook full of men who would kill to spend a night with him on a moment’s notice. Blaine was married. The sky was blue. Big deal. He didn’t care .Nope, not at all. In fact, he didn’t care so much that he went to the bathroom, splashed his face, and sauntered back into the room, shoulders square, head high, without even a glance toward Blaine.

“Sorry, personal call. Now, where were we?” Blaine sat back down, rubbing his face with his hands tiredly. “Oh, yes, something about khaki and  neutral—“

“You’re married.” So much for not caring. It slipped out of his mouth before he could keep it in, more of a statement than a question. Blaine’s eyes widened, the hand reaching for a paper frozen  mid-air.

“Wh-what?” Well, there was no turning back now.

“You’re married. I, uh, I overheard your phone call. Your voice carries…” looking down at his hands in his lap, Kurt awkwardly fidgeted with the metal cuff on his wrist. “So…who’s the guy? Anyone I know?” Kurt looked up, his expression cold and vague. As if something had clicked, snapped inside of him, Blaine woke from his state of immobility, pursing his lips together, struggling to speak.

“Well, um…I—you…”

Sensing his hesitance, Kurt quickly backtracked. “Oh. I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you…don’t feel comfortable. I understand.” Embarrassed for his lack of a filter and intrusive manner, Kurt grabbed the folder in his hand and pretended to rifle through it, attempting to mask his mortification. It was quiet for a while, but Kurt didn’t dare look up at Blaine to read his expression. The silence was disturbed abruptly when Blaine finally spoke up.

“I, no…it’s not that. I just…” Blaine sighed, clearing his throat before he continued. “I’m not…there is no guy.” Temporarily forgetting his little pretense, Kurt looked up from the folder, brows knit in confusion.

“What do you  mean? What, are you married to yourself? Pulling a Sue Sylvester?” Blaine’s expression grew serious, bordering on…gloomy, almost. His next words were few and simple.

“Her name is Karen.” Now Kurt was even more confused. What the hell was Blaine talking about? His mother? No her name was Mary. His sister? He didn’t even ha—oh my god.

Oh. My. God.

I told you, honey, I don’t want to be stuck here at work… of course I love you, K!… of course I value this marriage!

His head was spinning, his breaths short and shallow. Gripping on to the desk tightly, Kurt willed himself to get a grip, to push the next words out of his mouth. “You’re…you’re married…to a girl?” This time, he looked Blaine square in the eye, his gaze piercing, daring him to look away, to deny him of the truth. The whole truth. His reaction was small, almost indecipherable. He held Kurt’s glance for a few seconds before nodding his head.

“Yes.”