“You should've told him I was your brother!” Blaine's eyes roll so hard he's amazed Cooper can't feel it somehow through the phone. At least, if Cooper can tell, he gives no indication. “Whatever, Squirt, I say you cut your losses. This clearly was not meant to be. And didn't you say your co-volunteer...er was trying to set you up with another volunteer?”

“Yeah, some guy I've never met who just randomly started volunteering during the week. I know nothing about him other than that he's gay and Chrissy says he's pretty cute. I don't even know why they took a new volunteer—the place is closing down. And anyway, he's only there on the days I work my other job, so I'm never gonna see this guy either way... I can't believe Kurt was there with his boyfriend. I'm so stupid.”

“Yup,” Cooper hums in agreement.

“You're a real help, Coop. Really. Brother of the Year material,” Blaine snaps.

“Thanks. I'll put it on the shelf with all of my other awards.” Blaine groans. “Whoa, Blainey, calm down, bro. Maybe you should put the phone down and meditate.”

“Shut up, Coop! Seriously, you are absolutely no help and all you do is make me feel worse. God—you're the reason I work this shitty job that I can't stand, and you don't even care that the only part of my life that I'm happy with is about to be ripped away from me, and man, it sure is nice to know you're so sympathetic that the first crush I've let myself dwell on since Alex didn't work out for me. Thanks for being my shoulder to lean on, bro, it really makes me feel better!” He hangs up without letting Cooper respond. He throws his phone across the room and covers his face with his hands, letting out a groan.

He's never felt so shitty.

He's never felt so amazing.

He lets out a low groan as a twist of his wrist causes him to arch off of the mattress. He's got his eyes clamped shut and his hips twitch as another low moan is ripped from his throat. “Oh,” he gasps, increasing his speed and thrusting up into the tight warmth of his own fist.

His free hand slides down and grips desperately at his inner thigh, digging crescent-shaped indents into the sensitive skin as a vision of warm honey-hazel eyes flashes through his mind. Too-tight shirt stretched over tanned muscled skin... A smooth voice, punctuating his name like it's something special...

He comes with a choked cry and lays panting and boneless. It hadn't been a conscious decision to think of Blaine, but Kurt's fantasies just refused to focus anywhere else.

Kurt pushes it to the back of his mind. Blaine's an attractive guy. It doesn't mean anything. Still, it feels almost wrong to think of Blaine in that way. He cleans himself up and gets dressed, sighing heavily as he leaves his lonely bedroom.

“Mrow!” He pauses in his bedroom doorway and looks down, finding Toby sitting and staring at Kurt with a cold gaze that said, I know what you just did, Kurt Hummel, and you should be ashamed.

“Don't you judge me!” Kurt snaps.

“Reow,” Toby replies. Kurt huffs and walks past him. Toby trots along behind him as Kurt grabs his jacket and tugs on a pair of boots.

“I don't need your sass right now, Toby, I have to go to volunteer to help jerks like you get good homes!” He reaches to stroke Toby's spine anyway, but the cat ducks away, looking at Kurt's hand like it has greatly offended him. Kurt scoffs. “You're impossible. You don't see me judging you, and you use your own mouth, Mister!” Toby stares at him. Kurt stands and strides towards the door. “Goodbye!” He slams the door behind him and vaguely wonders if he's losing it.

He decides he probably is and heads to the shelter.

Blaine calls in sick at the theater after his fight with Cooper. Honestly, the idea of seeing his brother's face plastered everywhere for the eight-hour shift he was supposed to have is enough to make his stomach turn. He wasn't lying when he told his boss he was fighting nausea.

Still, he doesn't want to spend the day home by himself, so he goes to the shelter. Spending time with some animals who can't make him feel bad about his personal life is exactly what he needs, after all. He's in the back hanging out with a dalmatian when he hears Chrissy talking to someone in the front.

“-Yeah, sorry I'm late, I was arguing with my cat.” Someone who sounds far too familiar. Blaine shuts the cage and steps into the front of the store.

“Kurt?”

And there he is. Kurt Hummel, looking as perfect as ever in an “Adopt Today!” tee-shirt and signing in on the volunteer time sheet. His head pops up.

“Blaine! You're not normally here today.” Blaine isn't sure if he's imagining the pink tint creeping its way up Kurt's neck.

“I—yeah, was having a bad day, figured I'd rather be here than sweeping up spilled Bunch-a-Crunch...” He shakes his head. “I didn't know you'd been working here.”

“Oh, yeah, I uh, I came in after you called me that one day—I mean, it's really the least I can do, and I know it won't stop the place from closing to have more help but...” He shrugs and Blaine feels a tug at his heartstrings.

“Oh!” Chrissy says, making the connection. “Okay, this makes sense.” Both of their heads whip around to look at her. “No, I mean, you've both told me about each other, I just didn't make the connection. Kurt, your cat is Toby, then.”

“Yes,” he sighs. His face reddens when he remembers why he was arguing with his cat.

“No wonder he gives you such a hard time,” Chrissy laughs.

“He judges me,” Kurt says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I swear, I've never felt so criticized by an animal in my life. That cat is too smart for his own good.”

“Sounds like he's settled in just fine,” Blaine smiles, making Kurt's knees wobble.

“Uh huh,” he says dumbly. “I uh... I'll just... go check the animals, I guess?”

“Already did,” Blaine says. “Chrissy, you can take off, I think Kurt and I can handle things here, and you said you've got lunch plans with your mom, right?” Chrissy nods.

“Yeah, totally.” She suppresses a smile and shoots Blaine a knowing look. “I'll see you, Kurt.” He gives a small wave as she rushes out the door, raising his eyebrows at her peculiar behavior.

“So,” Kurt says when they're alone.

“So.”

Kurt rocks back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet. “How was your movie?” Blaine blurts, automatically flinching. You're a goddamn idiot, Anderson. You are lame and a goddamn idiot.

“It was good! I mean, listening to my best friend practically cream herself over Cooper Anderson's everything while her aggravated boyfriend sits next to her looking like he wants to shoot himself in the face is always a fun experience. Jesse isn't a big Cooper Anderson fan.” Jesse and I have that in common, Blaine thinks.

“Wait, Jesse is Rachel's boyfriend?” he asks, catching up.

“Yeah, remember I said she was the one who lived with me... until her boyfriend stole her, thus my adopting a cat...” Blaine nods quickly, remembering Kurt's story from the day they met. He hadn't said why Rachel was no longer his roommate, from what Blaine could remember.

But this is important. Kurt is single. Kurt is single and volunteering at the shelter Blaine works at.

“Anyway, I'm going to have to cut back my time here to once a week instead of twice a week like I've been doing,” Kurt says. “I like it though. I can see why you'd prefer to be here than the theater. I have to work on writing news articles or I'm not going to make it through my next semester.”

“You're a journalism student?” Blaine asks. Kurt nods, hopping up to sit on the counter.

“Yeah, I mostly do editorials and it's giving me a bad reputation around the journalism department to not write enough hard-hitting or heart-warming news stories. It's not my fault—I don't care about politics. They're messy and they cause arguments. My dad's a congressman and I let him worry about that stuff.”

“Your dad's a congressman and you don't care about politics.” Kurt shrugs.

“I mean, I care, but that's not what I want to write about. I care about media and fashion—I want to run a magazine, not a newspaper. Newspapers are dead, anyway. I want to write show reviews and book reviews and scathing who-wore-it-better articles. One of my editor friends told me I should work on building up a portfolio with freelance work over the summer to give me more credibility in the fall and to help me increase my chances of getting a good internship, but I have no idea what to write about.”

“Well, good luck,” Blaine says. “At least you know what you want, though. You want to run a magazine? Not just work for one?” Kurt shakes his head.

“I want to own my own magazine and call it Kurtin. It'll be the best in fashion and theatre—my two passions. I love culture, I love creativity, and those two fields are my expertise. I originally applied to NYADA for musical theater. I didn't get in, my best friend did, I went in a different direction. Still, Broadway and couture own my soul.” Kurt clears his throat. “Sorry. I didn't mean to ramble.”

“No, no, it's fine. It sounds great. I'd totally subscribe to that magazine.” He beams a smile that warms Kurt's insides, and Kurt can't help but smile back.

“What about you? What are you studying?” he asks.

“Uh, originally I was going to go for music composition, then for music, then for acting, then for musical theater... then I realized that, as much as I love performing, I really just wanna help people and take care of people. I'm working on becoming a teacher, but I'm still not sure if that's what I really want. I mean, I love kids. I'm good at school, and I'm a good teacher. I did a lot of the choreography for the Warblers in high school and I used to tutor kids, so I know I can teach. I just... I don't know. I wish I could just do this forever.” He looks around the shelter sadly.

“I'm sorry,” Kurt says. “I wish there was more I could do to help keep this place around.”

“Yeah well,” Blaine shrugs. “Local animal shelters are old news, I guess.”

Kurt's head perks up. He could kiss Blaine for the stroke of genius he's just inspired.

Because Kurt Hummel has just figured out how to help them both.