But that had not happened.

Now he just waits; the anticipation slowly killing him. This time around Blaine had requested a Friday night and today is the third Friday since his check cleared.

Blaine had run home the first Friday, completing mindless tasks around his apartment while the minutes ticked into hours and he found himself waking up, blurry eyed and fuzzy-tongued on his couch at noon on Saturday, sorely wishing he had slept on his bed.

The second Friday he had made a plan. He was to call Desiderate and demand to know if Kurt would be joining him this evening. But...he knew that was against the rules and so he ended up watching all three Matrix movies until the wee hours of the morning, wishing he had someone with him.

Blaine is so very lonely. In the 8 months since he started working he has made one friend. Well, one REAL friend...Jules is wonderful and all but she's really busy on the weekends. The other guys at work – while nice – are not the “hey, let's hang out together” type for Blaine, who enjoys a good glass of wine and a musical on his couch to a night out bar hopping any day of the week.

It's a problem.

This Friday he leaves work on time and is just settling onto his couch, My Fair Lady on BluRay, and a glass of white wine in his hand when his buzzer rings. Sighing, he places his glass on a coaster and goes to his intercom.

“Hello?” he says into the shiny white box.

“Mr. Anderson,” comes his doorman's voice, “There's a gentleman by the name of 'Kurt' here to see you?”

Blaine suddenly finds his heart in his throat and his palms sweaty as he glances around his impeccably neat apartment, suddenly wary of his choice to invite Kurt to his home. Whose idea was this, anyway? I must be insane, a crazy person, pathetic, I'm-

“Send him up, Peter, thank you.”

Blaine quickly runs to his bathroom and checks his state of dress. He is still wearing his work trousers and work shirt, his tie forgotten somewhere in the kitchen as he was pouring the wine. It would have to do because at any moment-

*knock knock knock*

Blaine attempts to control his breathing as he makes his way to the door.

There's no reason to be nervous. You've already met him, hell, he's been inside of you. Fuck, he does this for a living; he's probably done this hundreds of times. Stop, just breathe and smile, breathe and smile, Blaine.

With one last deep breath he opened the door and blinked in surprise.

Kurt is there, of course, winter coat and scarf wrapped around his neck to keep out the February chill, but he is laden with...things.

“Um, hello?” Blaine intoned with a curious smile, reaching out to take two of the bags that Kurt is struggling with.

“Oh my god, thank you. I completely thought that the Neanderthal downstairs would help me with these, but apparently chivalry is, in fact, dead in this city.” Kurt replied, groaning and walking boldly into Blaine's apartment.

Blaine watches him, temporarily speechless, as Kurt toes off his boots, leaving them on the rack beside the door before beginning to wander down the hall. Blaine follows, completely awed by this man's ability to take complete and utter control of the situation despite having never been in Blaine's apartment or having a full conversation with this him in his life. They end up in the open living space that makes up Blaine's kitchen and living area and Kurt puts the two bags he is holding – appearing suspiciously like garment bags, actually – on the couch and eyes the wine.

“Given up on me, had you?” Kurt asks, turning to Blaine and smiling softly, making his way toward Blaine while taking in the room with his eyes. He whistles low and sighs before turning back to Blaine's gaze. “Wow. This place is HUGE...and gorgeous. I love how you've decorated it – understated and a nice palate. I feel comfortable here.”

No kidding, Blaine thinks as he laughs, replying, “Yes, I like it. The office provided the space, actually. I just added the flavor.”

Kurt, who had been glancing around with an appraising eye, flicks his gaze back to Blaine and smiles.

“That you did.” he murmurs, eyebrow quirked and eyes unblinking, fixed on Blaine.

He feels himself flush pink under Kurt's heady gaze and wills himself to stay still and see how this night unfolds. He has a few things in mind that will take...patience.

“So,” Blaine begins, hands in his pockets and eyes trained on the smooth hardwood floor, “What is all this, anyway?”

“Oh, yes!” Kurt replies, snapping his attention back to the matter at hand. “Well, you said Friday, right, and to be able to do what I was thinking, since dancing was on the menu – pardon my straightforwardness – I needed to wait for just the right occasion and make sure we had everything we would require. Here, these-” he cuts off, whisking one of the garment bags from the couch – a tag proclaiming it “Anderson” - and one of the bags from the floor (Banana Republic emboldened on the side) and thrusts them in Blaine’s direction. “-are yours. I thought it would be easier if I brought them to you but I didn't want to spoil the surprise so...can I get dressed in your bathroom?”

Blaine holds the proffered items and stares at the man whose back is currently turned. Blaine finds himself drawn to him, wanting to know him. He likes to hear his voice and knows he could watch Kurt’s eyes light up for hours. Blaine is glad for his plan now, feeling entirely settled in the decision to ask for Kurt's company again.

Blaine finds his voice as Kurt hefts his bags onto his back.

“Of course you may. The guest bathroom is just down that small hall there-” he nods his head toward the opening past his refrigerator, “-and there's a spare bedroom right next to it that you can use to change. I'll use my room – it also has a bathroom.”

Kurt holds his gaze for a moment and then smiles, flashing Blaine perfect teeth, before turning disappearing down the hall.

***

Twenty-five minutes later Blaine is cleaned up, coiffed, and smoothing his shirt down in the bathroom one last time. He had been pleasantly surprised to find an elegantly – if uniquely – styled suit. It is jet black and the shirt that Kurt had included was flame red – a color Blaine never, ever wore – and Blaine felt comfortable, like he was in a second skin. There had been no tie and so Blaine had left it open at the neck. The cuff links are red with gold flecks and the shoes Kurt had brought weren’t typical dress shoes – red and gold buckles that make his feet pop – but they, too, fit him perfectly.

Funny, he thinks, I don't' remember ever giving my sizes to the club. But he hears Kurt moving in the living room and the thought blows away before it even begins to take root.

He glances in the mirror once more before exiting the bathroom and crossing his bedroom to meet his date. He is looking at his cuff links when he hears Kurt's breath, short and almost a gasp, making him look up.

Blaine feels his eyes widen and his heart pound, drinking in the creature in front of him. He wore a suit in midnight blue that seemed to shine (with shoes to match) and a pearly grey shirt and matching cuff links. The suit looks like it is made for Kurt's body and it hugs him in all the best ways. None of these things were causing Blaine's mind to race and pulse to quicken, though. No. It was Kurt’s eyes. Eyes that had drawn him in weeks ago on the dance floor.

Kurt had lined them with liquid silver, the lashes tipped with glitter. His eyebrows had been sculpted; lined with tiny pearl drops and Blaine just wanted to stare at them, drown in them, and learn them until he could draw them from memory.

He wanted so much of this man who he regretted having to pay. He just wanted to know him. And he was going to prove it.

Kurt eyes him, seeming to wait for judgment, his chin tilted out. Blaine knows that this moment is a defining one for them. Does he accept Kurt and this night? His next words will make or break his whole plan.

He clears his throat.

“Well? Do you have red or gold for me?” he teases, sincerely hoping Kurt does have something for him to add to his eyes.

Kurt's body visibly relaxes, his chin dips and a smile breaks the tension on his face.

“As a matter of fact I do have something for you, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt replies, a giggle in his throat and a blush on his cheek.

***

Kurt had whisked him off into the bathroom after that, attacking his eyes with liquid gold eyeliner and mumbling something about his skincare regime. Blaine doesn't have a skincare regime and thus informs Kurt, earning himself a gasp and a light smack on the arm. Kurt had stiffened, realizing the friendly, informal gesture and Blaine had smiled reassuringly; joking about self-defense classes and Kurt had laughed – a real laugh – for the first time.

Blaine heard it and fell in love a little bit, even if he didn’t admit it.

After making sure that Blaine's eyes were “absolute perfection, honestly,” Kurt had dragged him back to the living room and opened the last box he had. Nestled inside were two Venetian masks. One half red and half gold, gold swirls covering the surface and gold lace wrapping the edges. This one was for Blaine. The other was pearly silver accented in much the same way as Blaine's. They almost matched, save for the coloration, and when Kurt fixed his to his face and turned to Blaine he found himself wondering how Desiderate had literally found his match.

And then Blaine had thought that maybe this was a bad plan if they hadn't even left yet and he wanted to own those lips with his.

They had dressed for the weather and headed out into the night, arriving at a grand hotel in the middle of the city, the lobby sign reading Children's Hospital Masquerade. Blaine had picked up a brochure for the event and had almost dropped it, reading the price per plate. He glanced at Kurt and smiled, knowing he had inadvertently donated to such a worthy cause. Kurt had returned the gesture and taken his hand to lead him into the ballroom, masked revelers surrounding them, ignoring the two men in masks holding hands and instead imbibing at the open bar and grazing at the lush buffet.

Their date is everything and nothing like what Blaine had hoped for. There is an elegance in their surroundings that he admires and is used to, but the added element of the masque gives it the edge of mystery and fun that he has missed in his life. They spend an hour eating and talking, commenting and critiquing masks and costumes, sharing their backgrounds and discussing as much as either of them is willing to share at this point.

At eleven the canned dinner music is turned off and a small orchestra appears, filling the air with a rich velvet wall of sound and urging couples onto the dance floor. Kurt glanced at Blaine, his face saying, See, and there's your dancing, you fool, before standing and offering his hand.

And they had danced. Fast, slow, tangled in each others’ limbs, lips brushing soft skin on necks and ears.

It had felt like a date.  An honest-to-goodness date that they both thoroughly enjoyed.

***

And now here they sit, makeup washed, clothing hung in garment bags and zippered shut.  Blaine has changed into his pajama pants and a ratty old t-shirt and he is upright on his couch, Kurt’s head in his lap.  He had offered Kurt pajamas as well and was surprised when they were accepted.  

Blaine is threading his fingers through Kurt’s hair when it happens.  Both men have been lost in their own thoughts, simply looking into the other’s face when Kurt stiffens, some emotion ghosting over his features, and turns slightly, his focus clear.  He is almost there when Blaine puts his hand over Kurt’s wrist, stilling him.

Kurt turns his face to Blaine’s, his expression a question.
 
And Blaine shakes his head, his fingers never leaving Kurt’s head.

“Blaine.  Blaine, this is what you hired me to do...” and his voice breaks as he buries his face in Blaine’s thighs, shoulders shaking.

Blaine looks at the man below him and whispers.

(9. Please write a word that you or your match can say at any time that will signal your desire to end or pause the encounter.  A “safe word” if you will.  After this “safe word” is uttered by either party you and your match will determine how to proceed.)

“Enzymes.