They talked about it, the possibility of it, mouths and hands on each other, words between kisses and sighs. They talked about how crazy it was and how there's no way they should do it while they touched and stroked, their bodies unwilling to part for the length of a conversation. They talked about the improbability of the entire situation and the absolute rightness of it all. They talked about everything. Anything. They talked about it while Blaine worked Kurt open, while Blaine whispered incredibly filthy things in Kurt's ear, Kurt moaning yes over and over. Then they stopped talking and fucked, face to face, their eyes never leaving each other, their hands clasped together. And then it was dawn.

“Holy shit, it's morning,” Kurt said, bleary-eyed and hoarse, wrapped up in Blaine. He could feel him everywhere, Blaine's hot skin and coarse hair and warm breath. Kurt felt raw. His voice was raw from talking, raw from fucking. His skin was raw. His nerves were raw. His asshole was raw.  He'd never felt so amazing.

“What day is it?” Blaine groaned, blinking into the sunlight streaming through the slats of the blinds.

“Wednesday?”

“Good, I have one more day before I have to leave,” Blaine sighed, burrowing deeper under the comforter and pulling Kurt with him.

“Oh my god, no. No more. I need a shower. And some Advil. And pancakes.”

As if on cue, Blaine's stomach rumbled loud enough to send them both into fits of laughter. “Can we eat pancakes naked?”

“NO,” Kurt laughed, “we need to get out of this bed and wash ourselves clean of this night of unbridled lust and join the living. With pancakes. And coffee.”

“So that's a yes?” Blaine was lying in the crook of Kurt's arm looking up at him, his smile brighter than the sun. 

“Yes to what?” Kurt asked. But he knew the answer. He knew Blaine was serious about going on tour with him. He knew, even after one night with Blaine, he'd never be able to say no to him. 

“Come with me,” Blaine said, sitting up and hovering over Kurt, his wild hair and swollen lips making Kurt's dick stir. “Come,” he said with a kiss, “with me.”

“If you recall, I did that several times last night.”

“Fine,” Blaine laughed, pulling back the covers and rolling off the bed, “make me wait.” Kurt watched him walk to the bathroom, his perfect ass on display. “But I'm going to convince you.”

———————-

“Kurt, what is this place?” They'd called a cab to take them to Hermitage Cafe, Kurt's favorite breakfast place. Blaine took in the tiny structure with it's dilapidated sign and outdated interior. “Is it sanitary?”

“This place is an institution,” Kurt said, pulling open the glass door. The bell over the doorway chimed. “Plus there's little chance you'll be recognized here.”

“Morning, Honey,” an older woman called from the behind the counter, “Coffee?”

“Morning, Mona. Two coffees please,” Kurt said as they sat down at a wobbly formica table, their red vinyl chairs scraping across the linoleum. 

Blaine took it all in - the fake ferns hanging from hooks in the ceiling, the bubbled ceiling that looked as if it would collapse at any moment, the framed, yellowed photos of country music stars lining the back wall, signatures faded from years in the sunlight.

“Hey you go, boys,” Mona chirped, setting down two cups of hot coffee. “What'll ya have?”

“Pancakes,” Kurt smiled, “and bacon. And eggs. And hashbrowns.”

“Yes,” Blaine agreed.

“Comin' right up!” Mona walked back behind the diner counter, her wide hips swaying in bedazzled jeans.

“I think it just hit me how incredibly hungry I am,” Blaine said, his palms flat against the tabletop. “You wore me out last night.” He was wearing one of Kurt's t-shirts and the same tight, blue pants from the day before. His hair was still wet from the shower, a few dark curls drooping down on his forehead. Kurt stared, the realization that he was allowed to stare making the hairs on his neck stand up. “Do you need to go in to work after this?”

Kurt had been so focused on Blaine he'd completely forgotten about work. “Yes, god, yes I should. Especially if I'm going to try and take some days off. I'll need to get things in order.”

Blaine's eyes sparkled, a wide, close-lipped smile on his face. “Why would you be taking days off? Planning a vacation?”

“Not a vacation, exactly. I've recently been introduced to some genuinely mind-blowing sex and I may have to go out of town for a few days to get more of it.”

“Mind-blowing is an understatement. I don't think I've ever-”

“Excuse me?” Kurt and Blaine looked up to see a middle-aged woman in a black pantsuit smiling down at them. “Are you Blaine Anderson?”

Blaine smiled and held out his hand. “Hi, I'm Blaine. What's your name?”

“Oh, hi,” she said, taking his hand into both of hers, “I am such a huge fan! I can't believe you're here. I had to be out of town during your show last week and was so disappointed to miss it.” She continued to shake his hand in hers, staring. “I'm Jill.”

“Hi, Jill, it's nice to meet you.”

“I just can't believe you're here! You are my favorite singer, just amazing. I think you're amazing.”

“That's so nice, thank you!”

“Could I get a photo? Would you mind, terribly?”

“Not at all,” Blaine said, pushing his chair out to stand up but before he could, Jill plopped down into his lap.

“Just can't believe this,” she said, angling her phone and throwing her arm around Blaine's neck. “You know, you're much sexier in person. I wouldn't have thought that was possible but, wow.”

“Thank you. Good genes, I guess.”

“You've just made my day,” she said, and kissed Blaine on the cheek.

“You're very welcome, it was nice to meet you, Jill.”

Kurt watched her walk to her car, shaking her head and looking at the photo on her phone. “God, I can't take you anywhere,” he said, kicking at Blaine's feet under the table.

Blaine laughed and reached across the table to grab Kurt's hands. “Yeah, can't believe anyone would do something like that. She's probably the kind of person who would buy a VIP ticket just to meet me.”

“You absolute dick,” Kurt gasped, pulling his hands away, but they were both laughing.

The food arrived and conversation came to a halt as they devoured every last bite, both watching the other, sharing smiles between bites.

“I was wrong. You were right,” Blaine said, pushing his empty plate away. “This place is fucking incredible.”

“Never doubt me, Blaine Anderson, I wouldn't lead you astray.”

Blaine paid the bill, Kurt's wallet still locked inside his office, and they took the short walk up 2nd Avenue to BCA Records. They talked about what cities were coming up on Blaine's tour and Kurt mentally catalogued everything that needed to be done if he was going to leave town. Blaine checked his phone and realized he'd forgot to inform his manager he was taking a Nashville detour.

“Fuck, I'm in trouble.”

“What is it?”

“I forgot to tell my manager I was coming to see you. He's been texting and calling me all night. He's pissed.”

They turned the corner to Clinton Street and Kurt buzzed the front desk to let him in. They climbed the wide, wooden steps up to the third floor.

Blaine followed Kurt to his office, unnoticed by any of the staff. Kurt went straight to his desk and found everything just as he left it - his laptop open, his phone laying next to it. He bent down to pick up his bag and check for his wallet and keys when he felt strong hands on his waist.

“Hey, come here.”

“Blaine, we're in my-”

Blaine cut him off with a scorching kiss, pulling their hips together and reaching around to grab Kurt's ass with both hands. “You're so fucking sexy,” Blaine whispered in his ear.

“Hey, guys,” Frankie said from the open doorway, “horny much?”

“Hey, Frankie,” Blaine smiled, as if he hadn't just been busted feeling Kurt up in the middle of his office, “good to see you again!”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, stepping away from him and smoothing his hair back, “why don't you stay here and call your manager. I've got to sort out a few things. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

“Sure thing,” Blaine said, smacking Kurt on the ass.

———————-

Kurt and Frankie were standing in the copy room just off the break room talking in loud whispers.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Kurt huffed.

“Kurt,” she said, her eyebrows arched over the top of her glasses, “I'm going to need you to start from the beginning.”

Kurt his bottom lip. Kurt shifted from one foot to the other. Kurt put his hands in his pockets.

“Okay, let me put this another way. What the ever-loving FUCK is Blaine Anderson doing in your office, IN THE MORNING, with his HANDS ON YOUR ASS and his TONGUE DOWN YOUR THROAT after you came to my apartment last night looking like you might FUCK EACH OTHER IN THE HALLWAY.”

“He asked me to go on tour with him.”

Frankie gasped and clutched her chest. “He…what?”

“He's got ten dates left on his tour and he asked me to go with him.”

Frankie slid down the wall and sat down next to the ancient copier, her head on her bent knees.

“What should I do? You're my best friend, tell me what to do.”

Frankie's head whipped up, her eyes wide. She pulled on Kurt's hands to get him to sit down on the floor with her. “Kurt,” she said, his hands on her knees and her hands on his, “you go.”

“But isn't it all a little bit, I don't know,” Kurt pulled his hands free and waved them around in the air, “nonsensical?”

“This is Blaine we're talking about, your dream guy. And he wants you, Kurt, YOU. What the hell is your problem?”

Kurt sighed, his shoulders slumped. “It seems too good to be true.”

“Maybe it is, but don't you want to find out? Listen, if it doesn't work out you can still be the guy that Blaine Fucking Anderson sang to and flirted with and showed up to surprise you and,” she paused and grinned, “I'm assuming by the well-fucked expression on your face he had his way with you.”

“Stop,” Kurt said, hiding his smile behind his hands.

“Go. Go with him and fulfill a fantasy. Go and be everything you've ever wanted to be.”

Kurt closed his eyes. “I really, really want to.”

———————

“Chopsticks?”

“Always.”

They were back in Kurt's apartment after a full day of calls and emails for Blaine (his manager was none-too-happy about his Nashville detour) and schedule re-arranging for Kurt. Kurt had happily agreed to Blaine's invitation and Blaine had picked him up and swung him around the office. The rest of the day was spent planning travel and booking flights and kissing. So much kissing. They'd stopped to pick up take-out from Suzy Wong's and were now curled up on the couch.

“So we're really going to do this? You're going to come out with me?”

Kurt smiled and pushed his toes underneath Blaine's ass. “You're sure you want me?”

Blaine's smile slid from his face, a hungry expression in his eyes. He took Kurt's take-out container, set it on the coffee table and climbed into his lap, his hands on Kurt's neck. He stared into Kurt's eyes, the intensity of it heating Kurt's cheeks. 

“I want you,” Blaine said, the words dripping off his lips, his voice a hoarse whisper. He moved his hands down to Kurt's chest, kneading and pushing against him. He moved in slow, watching Kurt, and kissed him, a drawn-out drag of lips and tongue. He tasted like spring rolls and a sweet undertone that was purely Blaine. “I want you so fucking much.”

Kurt closed his eyes and breathed Blaine in, his touch and his words and his overwhelming confidence in Kurt. In them. In this. He opened his eyes and looked into Blaine's whiskey-brown eyes. “You can have me.”