Sometime around six o'clock Friday evening a loud, frustrated sigh escaped Kurt's lips and echoed throughout his apartment. Kurt had always been very fashion conscious. If performing hadn't been the thing that kept his heart beating, he would be making attempts at working at places like Vogue instead of waiting tables. But Defying Gravity always won against Marc Jacobs. However, none of that mattered because Kurt absolutely couldn't decide on what to wear on his date with Blaine.

"Having trouble?" Santana asked walking into Kurt's room and leaning against the door frame. She was still dressed in her yoga pants and a t-shirt, her date wasn't until later, but she was staying home to make sure that Blaine knew the rules when he came to pick Kurt up. Kurt was absolutely terrified as to what Santana's rules could possibly be.

"I don't know what to wear," Kurt said sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"It's easy. Super tight pants, those boots that you love, and that purple shirt. Put leave a couple of buttons open so that Mr. Hottie can fantasize about nibbling at your collar bone after dessert."

"That's actually not a bad idea," Kurt said before adding, "Except I think I'll add a black skinny tie."

"All the better for him to drag you to the bedroom with my dear," Santana sang.

"The way that you're obsessed with my sex life is surprising," Kurt said standing back up and beginning to sift through the pile of clothes on his bed, "considering you have a fairly healthy one of your own."

"Just looking out for my bestie," Santana said pushing herself away from the doorframe, "Now get dressed, I'll be back in fifteen to determine how fuckable you look."

Santana shut the door behind her and Kurt went to work on getting dressed, beginning by squeezing himself into the tightest black pants that he owned. He stood in front of the mirror and examined himself in his full-length mirror and couldn't deny that the pants fit him very well. He'd never been one to think of himself as, as Santana put it, fuckable, but he knew that the pants outlined his features enough to capture the attention of the gay men in a room. But tonight, he only wanted Blaine's attention.

Maybe he was thinking into the whole situation far too much. Maybe it was because Santana kept bringing up the possibility of dating someone long term for the first time in a long while. But there was something sitting inside him that made him giddy and hopeful for the first time in too long. But Kurt was well aware that this was only a first date. He knew nothing about Blaine and it was very possible that they could sit down at dinner and start talking and it would become clear to Kurt that Blaine wasn't someone he'd want to go out with again. Maybe Blaine had a weird fascination with Star Wars or lived with his parents or had some kind of terrible body odor that Kurt hadn't noticed the other night. There had to be a catch. Gorgeous men didn't just fall into Kurt Hummel's lap.

Twenty minutes later, Santana returned to Kurt's bedroom, walking in without knocking dressed for the evening in a green dressed that hugged her curves as she sat down at the edge of Kurt's bed, watching him as he put the finishing touches on his hair.

Once he was done Santana exclaimed, "Me gusta," before standing up from the bed.

"I'm glad you approve," Kurt said turning to face her.

"Now listen," Santana said walking over to stand in front of Kurt, placing her hands on his shoulders, "I know I've been a little intense lately but please know that it comes from a place of caring. I just want to see you happy and Brice—"

"Blaine," Kurt corrected.

"Blaine," Santana continued, "could be the one to do that."

"It's a first date. We can talk about happy if I get a second."

"He's an idiot if he doesn't take you out for the rest of his life."

"Now you're jumping too far ahead of everything. One night at a time."

"You're right. Now how do I look?" Santana said spinning around.

"Like the best kind of sin."

"That's what I like to hear," Santana said, "Now let's see what's on TV until your boy comes knockin'."

The second the little hand on the clock hit seven, Santana started mumbling about castrating Blaine if he was late or had stood Kurt up. But a second later, there was a knock on the door. He was prompt. Point for Blaine Anderson. Kurt shot Santana a look before she jumped off the couch to answer to answer the door while Kurt took one last look in the mirror to make sure the last half an hour on the couch hadn't completely wrinkled his outfit and that his hair was still just the right amount of coiffed.

Santana greeted Blaine (politely) before stepping aside to let Blaine into the apartment. Once he was inside, Kurt had to keep his jaw from dropping and the drool from starting to pour out of his mouth. Because if Kurt thought Blaine looked good the night they met, that fact had only multiplied now. Blaine was dressed much more casual than he had been at the restaurant in his dark blue jeans and black loafers. He'd ditched the dress shirt and neck tie for a maroon cardigan over a white shirt.

"Am I overdressed?" Kurt questioned, "We didn't really talk about the dress code."

"No," Blaine said slowly clearly taking in the outfit that Kurt and Santana had created, "No, you're perfect. I mean, uh, you look great."

"Thank you," Kurt said as the heat began to rise to his cheeks.

"Should we go?"

"Have him home by midnight otherwise he'll turn into a pumpkin," Santana said trying her best to sound like a parental figure. All she needed was a ball cap and a closet full of flannel shirts and she'd have Burt Hummel to a T.

" ," Kurt said guiding Blaine out of the apartment and into the hallway.

They were quiet until they were half way down the hall; far enough so that Santana wouldn't hear them.

They were quiet until they were halfway down the hall, until Kurt knew that Santana wouldn't be able to hear them from where he knew she was perched in front of the door.

Kurt turned towards Blaine, "So where are we going?"

"I told you," Blaine said with a smile, repeating what he'd told Kurt at Minetta and in a couple of text messages, "Somewhere nice."

When Blaine said somewhere nice, what he'd meant was Delmonico's. Kurt had been there only once before for a reception for a friend's wedding, mostly because his tastes were much simpler and his wallet recoiled at the idea of spending thirty dollars on an entr�e when he could get a burger at McDonalds for a dollar.

One thing Kurt hated about going to other restaurants: he was constantly critiquing the wait staff. But the hostess was kind as she led them to the cozy little booth in the corner. When their waitress appeared the wine was ordered and the usually uncomfortable and awkward first date conversation began.

"Okay," Kurt said, "So I have to ask. Who was that guy that you were with? At the restaurant."

"A potential client," Blaine said folding his hands together on top of the table.

"Did you sign him or whatever?"

"Nope."

"Was that my fault?"

"No, not at all. I apparently couldn't see the big picture as vividly as he did."

"Are you an artist?"

Blaine laughed, "No, financial advisor. I work for Edward Jones."

"Oh."

"Good oh or bad oh?"

"Just oh. I've never gone out with a stock broker before."

"Well, I already know what you do, but is that what you really want to do for the rest of your life? Wait on angry old men who I'm pretty sure are homophobic?"

"No," Kurt explained pushing aside Blaine's assumption about the grumpy man in the restaurant. It was over and there was no use getting upset again because of it, "I want to act, to perform, on Broadway. I graduated from NYADA with a degree in musical theatre."

"And why aren't you out there winning a Tony yet?"

"Because my talents are...unique. So I wait tables until I find something that fits who am I."

"You're very confident in who you are," Blaine commented, "I like that about you."

Kurt's cheeks turned red, "So, what do you do for fun?"

"Fun?" Blaine questioned.

"Yes, fun. That thing that keeps us from being boring. You do have fun don't you?"

Blaine laughed, "I don't know. On the occasional day off I like to read a book or if the theatre is playing an old movie or something I'll go check it out."

"Ooo, an intellect."

"I wouldn't go that far," Blaine chuckled, "But when I do have some time off, it's usually spent catching up on the work I didn't get to finish during the week."

"That sounds stressful."

"If I want to be my own boss by the time I'm thirty, it has to be. Plus, my company has high expectations. We need to come in Monday morning ready to hit the ground running and you can't do that if you spent the weekend at least partially submersed in your work. Plus, I'm still rather new. I've got a lot to prove and that means taking clients out to dinner at nice restaurants and trying to convince them that I'm the right person for the job. And hope they don't harass the wait staff. I suppose it's a good thing that Mr. Dawson chose to pass on me. I don't know what he would have done if he knew I was gay."

"Are you not out?" Kurt asked.

"I don't hide anything. If someone asks me, I'm not going to lie to them. Most of the guys I work with know. But I learned shortly after I realized that I was gay that it's better if I not wear it on my sleeve. Besides, it's not something that should define the work I do, so if it might potentially upset clients, there's no need to bring it up."

"I guess that makes sense."

When the waitress arrived with their wine, they both ordered but immediately dove back into conversation once the waitress had left to go put in the ticket for their order.

"What about you?" Blaine asked, "How did coming out go for you?"

"Coming out was easy. Being out was not. My dad, who is everything to me, just told me that he knew and that it was okay. He's a real man's man, a mechanic, so I think maybe he didn't really understand it, but he accepted it, and me. It was rocky for a little while but we worked through it."

"And your mom?"

"She died when I was eight."

"Oh, wow. I feel like a jerk. I'm sorry."

"You're not a jerk. You didn't know; you couldn't. I can, as you said, wear my sexuality on my sleeve if I please. But there is nothing that can warn anyone about that."

"But you said being out was hard? What made it so hard?"

"Ohio isn't the most open-minded of states."

"Ohio?" Blaine interrupted, "I'm from Westerville."

"Lima," Kurt said, "What a small world. You were what, two hours away?"

"Something like that," Blaine answered, "I shouldn't have interrupted. Go on."

"Anyway, the kids at my high school were just the same as everyone else. I was teased, bullied, voted prom queen."

"No way," Blaine said with wide eyes.

"I've got pictures to prove it."

"That's remarkable," Blaine said, "Not that it happened to you. But that got through it. A lot of people like use have a hard time dealing with all of that in high school."

"I mean, sure, it was devastating some days. But it only made my determination to get out of Lima stronger. None of that would stop me from getting out of there and making a name for myself."

"That's actually really inspiring, Kurt."

When their food came, they continued to talk while they were eating. It was mostly the normal first date conversation, but Kurt felt so comfortable talking to Blaine. The last time he'd brought up Mamma Mia up to a date, the guy didn't know anything about it. Kurt had been shocked that a gay man living in New York hadn't at least heard of the musical or at least seen the movie. But with Blaine bringing up the show only sparked a conversation about Meryl Streep which spiraled into a ten minute conversations in itself. They had a lot in common both in movies and music. Both were longtime subscribers to Vogue. It was great getting to know Blaine.

When the bill came, Blaine waved off all the advances that Kurt made to at least pay for his part of the bill.

"I asked you to dinner. That means I get to pay."

"I'll get it next time," Kurt said. And maybe he was being presumptuous, but he was having a really good time with Blaine and he already knew he'd like to see him again.

Blaine didn't respond to Kurt's comment, only handed his credit card to the waitress.

"The night is still young," Blaine said, "Do you want to do something else?"

"What about dancing?"

"Like sweaty half naked men dirty dancing around a much too crowded floor?"

Kurt laughed, "It's not Babylon. Everyone keeps all their clothes on and it's not a gay only club. My friend Mike is the DJ and can probably get us in the back door."

Blaine stood and extended his hand towards Kurt, "Lead the way."

Smiling, Kurt placed his hand in Blaine's, holding tightly as he lead them out of the restaurant.

Kiss and Fly was packed. The line to the door stretched down the block and around a corner; it was Friday night after all. But while they had been walking over hand in hand, Kurt shot a text message to Mike and both men found themselves away from the crowd, standing suspiciously next to one of the club's emergency exits. Even from the outside, the sound of the music thumping against the walls was loud. Kurt had never taken anyone here before. But as Blaine had said, the night was young, and he wasn't exactly ready to curl up on his couch alone, watching Netflix until Santana came home.

They stood there, hands still intertwined until the steel door opened a bit and head popped through.

"My set starts in five minutes. Hurry up and get in here."

Pulling Blaine behind him, Kurt slipped through the door and into the backroom of the club, following Mike through a maze of hallways until they were in the heart of the club. The dance floor was large and covered most of the large room. It was framed by small groupings of tables on three sides, and an expansive bar on the other. The music was loud, the lights were dim and the colored lights bathed the floor in blues and purples and reds. Kurt waves goodbye to Mike and led Blaine along a line of tables right towards the bar.

"That's a pretty awesome connection," Blaine said raising his voice so that Kurt could hear them as they sat down on two conveniently empty stools at the bar.

"It is," Kurt shouted, "He's owed me this for a while."

"What did you do for him?"

"Introduced him to Tina. One of the cooks at Minetta."

"The cook and the DJ," Blaine said as if he'd been naming off the most romantic pairings in history.

"The waiter and the stockbroker," Kurt countered with a smile.

Maybe Kurt was being a little more forward than normal. But there was something about Blaine and the smile on his face that made it okay. It was then that Kurt felt it. That little bubble of happiness that was floating around his chest landed right in the middle and sat there. As if it had been floating around him for a while and had finally found the right time to land.

They ordered drinks that Blaine insisted on paying for and continued to chat over the loud music; about college, about coming to New York from Ohio. But as the last drops of Kurt's second drink hit his tongue, he made another bold gesture. He jumped off the stood and looked at a new bewildered Blaine.

"Let's dance."

Blaine looked hesitant for a moment, as if Kurt had asked him to do something foreign, but then he threw back the last bit of his drink and stood up smiling.

At first the dancing was innocent and fun. It was Kurt, Blaine, and a bunch of strangers moving to the music; separately, but as one. But after three of four songs, Kurt daringly wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, holding him close. It could have gone terribly wrong. Kurt was well aware that Blaine could have pushed him away thus ending their date; because you can't move past that kind of awkward. But it's nothing short of amazing when Blaine places his hands, warm on Kurt's hips.

Kurt pulled Blaine closer as he began to lead them as they moved together to the pace of the music. It was fast and sexy and the sudden spike in Kurt's body temperature came from moving around the dance floor and from having Blaine so close to him. But he couldn't bring himself to care, even as the sweat was beginning to form on both of their foreheads. Their bodies moving together, always connected, even when Blaine spun Kurt away from him, only to pull him back so they were closer than they had been before; until they were pressed flush against each other.

Kurt knew that when he whispered "let's go back to my place" into Blaine's ear that it was very possible that Blaine would hear a promise of something that Kurt wasn't sure he could keep. They hadn't even kissed yet, how could either of them really be thinking about that. But Blaine nodded in response and this time it was Blaine who reached for Kurt's hand and led them out of the club into the New York streets, grateful for the cool spring air to cool them off. Kurt took a deep breath, because what the hell was he doing, and got into the cab that was waiting for him.

Kurt told Blaine to make himself at home while we went to grab a bottle of wine from the kitchen. But before Kurt could go more than two steps, Blaine reached out and took hold of his forearm, spinning Kurt around until he once again faced Blaine and then crashed his lips against Kurt's. The kiss was intense and it took Kurt's body a moment to respond. But when it did, Kurt moved his lips against Blaine's with just as much passion. The hands that had been frozen at Kurt's side slid up the sweater covered plains of Blaine's chest until they wrapped around his neck like they had been earlier on the dance floor, Blaine's hands resting against his hip again, pulling Kurt close until their bodies were flush against each other.

Without breaking the connection, Blaine guided their joined bodies to the couch, lowering Kurt down into the cushions before kneeling into them to hover his body over Kurt's for a moment before his lips moved from Kurt's to Kurt's jaw; down his neck until he reached his collar bone that was now exposed since he tie had come loose and the first four bottoms of his shirt had been undone (when did that happen?). The feel of Blaine's lips against his skin was intoxicating. It set all his nerves on fire in the best way possible and made his head cloudy, only aware of one thing...Blaine.

But as good as it felt when Blaine had his arm wrapped around Kurt's waist, the other dragging over his chest and torso, down his body and then, oh, down the front of his pants, Kurt Hummel was not one of one night stands. It didn't matter that Blaine's touch felt like nothing he'd experienced before. It didn't matter that everything inside of him was screaming for Blaine to touch more of him, to melt in the heat of Blaine's touch. It didn't matter that there was a heat building low in his belly. Even if Santana was no angel and had on many occasion brought a random girl into the apartment for a sleepover, Kurt had a different standard.

"We need to stop," Kurt said pulling his lips away from Blaine's, his breathe ragged.

"Why?" Blaine asked as his dark eyes gazed at Kurt.

"Because I don't do this."

"Don't do what?"

"Sleep with strange men."

Blaine pulled back just a bit, "I'm not strange."

"But I just met you."

"And this is crazy?"

"Stop right there!" Kurt said stopping Blaine with a pointed finger, "That song has no place in this moment."

Blaine laughed, "So now what?"

"I don't know. We go out another time?"

"Well I don't do that."

"What?"

"Date. Well, the same person more than once. Not usually."

"Oh."

And with that, the little fantasy that Kurt had begun to put together in his head suddenly fell into the painful world of reality. The possibility of more dates and getting to know Blaine better were gone. The chance to fall into a romance that, most due to Santana's insistence that this could be it, he was beginning to believe in too. It had been one date; one rather ordinary date. But there was something about Blaine that had made Kurt hope. But the dream had been shattered. It seemed that Blaine hadn't been as enthralled with Kurt as Kurt had been with Blaine.

"You're great, amazing actually, and I had a lot of fun tonight," Blaine said pushing himself up until he was back in a kneeling position, "I'm just not looking for anything serious."

"No, that's fine. I completely understand."

Blaine closed the spaced between their lips, but Kurt's lips remained tight causing Blaine to pull back.

But Kurt's words went misunderstood by Blaine. Instead of pulling away, Blaine launched himself back on top of Kurt, his lips crashing against Kurt's. But Kurt didn't respond. His lips remained tight against Blaine's causing the other boy to pull back.

"I may understand," Kurt whispered, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with you."

Blaine huffed and pulled back, "I should go."

Kurt watched from where he lay on the couch as Blaine got up and stood in the middle of the room. His head was spinning, unable to trust himself to stand up. There was a very attractive man who was, until just a moment ago, on top of him, pressing him into the couch cushions. The same attractive man who was now standing in the middle of his living room, straightening his clothes from where they'd shifted around his body from the movement of their bodies against each other and from the slide of Kurt's hand up his side. If only it weren't for his stupid moral he could probably know what that body looked underneath those clothes. He could know what it felt like to ghost his fingers over Blaine's skin. He could've known what it felt like to have Blaine's warm naked body pressed against his. But one day, a long time ago, Kurt's father said him down and taught him that he mattered. When it came to sex, Kurt shouldn't just give himself to every man that offered himself to Kurt. Of all the harebrained advice that his father had given him over the years, it was that one thing that stuck with him the most. That he mattered. And clearly he didn't matter all that much to Blaine because Blaine was only looking for a one night stand. And Kurt was a hopeless romantic. Giving himself to Blaine would only lead to Kurt getting his heart broken.

"I had a really great time tonight," Kurt said sitting up and smoothing the wrinkles made in his shirt.

"I did too," Blaine said, "And I'm sorry. I should've been clearer about my intentions."

"It's alright," Kurt said trusting himself to stand, "I shouldn't have assumed anything."

Blaine smiled weakly, "I should get going."

Kurt walked to the door and opened it for Blaine, "So I'll, uh..."

"I'll see you when I see you."

"I'll see you when I see you," Kurt repeated.

Blaine walked out of the apartment and into the hallway just like they both had earlier in the evening. He glanced back at Kurt for a moment before disappearing toward the elevator. Kurt shut the door and without evening changing grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and curled up into the cushions where Blaine had been kissing him, touching him, just fifteen minutes prior. He turned the TV on and stared mindlessly at whatever channel Santana left on before she left and fall asleep, hoping that when Santana came home just before the sun came up, that she would snuggle in with him so that he could wake up in the morning and pretend like the night hadn't happened.