Kurt woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing so rapidly it fell off the nightstand. He groaned and rolled onto his back, unwilling to face whatever urgent messages needed his attention. He stretched his long legs, smiling at the memory of the night before. Of Blaine, hot and naked and open and oh god, Blaine. Gorgeous Blaine. Who was next to him. In his bed.

“Hey, you,” Blaine said, peeking out from under a wild riot of curls, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Kurt curled his body toward Blaine and stared, taking in the wide planes of Blaine's back that dipped down to his narrow waist and curved back up to his plump, glorious ass. That he wanted to bite. “Hey,” he said, reaching out and running his fingers through Blaine's hair.

“Your phone's buzzing,” Blaine said, reaching over to kiss Kurt's mouth. Kurt grabbed Blaine's ass and pulled them closer, their kiss turning dirty.

Kurt's phone buzzed again.

“Shouldn't you check that? It's non-stop,” Blaine said, kissing down Kurt's chest.

“I'm sure it can wait. And it seems like you're headed somewhere interesting.”

Blaine pounced, jumping on top of Kurt and pinning his arms above his head, a smirk on his lips. “I've got you now, Kurt Hummel.”

“Uh-oh,” Kurt smiled, breathless. “What are you going to do with me?”

Kurt's phone buzzed again.

“I,” Blaine said, kissing down Kurt's neck, “am going,” he kissed down his chest, “to totally,” he kissed his hipbone “see what could possibly be so urgent.”

“NO,” Kurt shouted, laughing as Blaine held him down with one arm while reaching down to the floor to pick up Kurt's phone.

“Now, “Blaine said, sitting on Kurt's thighs, his body gloriously on display, “let's see what…oh, what's your passcode?”

“Are you serious? We declare our love to each other, you let me fuck you, and suddenly I'm supposed to divulge my most precious secret?” Kurt's eyebrow was quirked, a smile in his eyes.

Blaine laughed. “Your most precious secret is the passcode to your phone?”

“Everything is in that phone,” Kurt said, reaching for it. Blaine held it farther away, the phone buzzing in his hand.

Blaine leaned down and kissed him. “Tell me.”

“No.”

Blaine moved off of Kurt and settled back against the pillows, pulling Kurt to his chest, “What's the passcode?”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“NEVER.”

“Tell me and I'll suck your dick.”

Kurt growled and buried his head in Blaine's shoulder. “I was hoping you would anyway.”

“Give me the passcode, Hummel.”

Kurt sighed, “It's 2289, you ass.”

Blaine's eyebrows shot up. “Wow, that was easy. I was sure you would make me suck your dick before you gave it to me.”

“Dammit!” Kurt yelled, lightly pounding his fist onto Blaine's chest.

They both fell into fits of laughter as Blaine unlocked the phone and opened Kurt's text messages. “Shit, Kurt, look at all these texts.”

Kurt grabbed the phone and scrolled through the names. Liam, Grant, Libby, Trevor…and Sugar. He read Sugar's first.

I warned you about crossing me, Kurtsie.

“What's that supposed to mean,” Blaine asked.

“I don't know,” Kurt said, sitting up and opening the texts from Liam, “she made some threats at the show last night but nothing that worried me.”

Kurt read Liam's texts out loud, his voice growing more and more worried with each message.

Kurt, tell me it's not true.

Sugar texted me. Are you up? I need to hear it from you.

Are you coming in today?

This is crazy.

I don't believe it.

Come find me when you get in.

Kurt's pulse sped up as he opened the texts from Grant and read aloud.

I guess the jig's up? It's too bad really. I was just starting to like you.

And then from Trevor.

Please call me as soon as you can.

“Kurt, what the fuck is going on.”

“He knows about us. Sugar told him, that has to be it. She warned me that she was going to tell him but I honestly didn't think she'd do it. Or maybe…maybe I just didn't care.”

“Shit, Kurt, what…what are you going to do? What does this mean?”

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. “It means I love you. And whatever Trevor says, whatever happens, nothing's going to change that.”

Blaine's expression remained worried while Kurt looked up Trevor's phone number.

Trevor Humphries, Vine's CEO, was a no-nonsense kind of guy. He was soft-spoken and unassuming in person, but ruthless when it mattered. And he wasn't someone that liked to be kept waiting.

He picked up after the first ring. “Hello, Kurt.”

“Hey, Trevor, I just got your text.”

“Yes, I'd prefer to speak to you about this in person but I'm in New York today and I'm afraid it can't wait.”

Kurt gulped. “Okay.”

“I received a rather distressing phone call from Beverly Sugar this morning. She seems to believe that you are currently in some sort of relationship with Blaine Anderson. She was very clear that it was sexual in nature and that in fact, he left Vine because of you.”

Kurt stayed silent, not knowing if he should answer or deny or just die on the spot. Blaine was looking at him with wide eyes and running his hands through his hair.

Trevor continued, his short, clipped tones sending a cold chill down Kurt's spine. “I'll admit that I was rather shocked by this information. Both in hearing it and it being delivered by Sugar. I can't stand that woman. And Kurt, I don't have to tell you that fraternizing with an artist is not only unseemly but downright forbidden. You know that.”

Kurt stayed silent, his lack of argument saying more than his words ever could.

“Furthermore, you know Blaine was our one shot at New Artist. You know how important that was to me. You KNOW that.” Trevor took several deep breaths that Kurt could nearly feel through the phone, like hot stripes across his face. “Kurt, you've been a trusted and valued employee for many years so I'm only going to ask you this once. Are you fucking Blaine Anderson?”

Kurt's throat closed, his head throbbing. He knew what would happen if he answered the question. “Yes.”

A long pause. A million thoughts racing through Kurt's mind. He could try to explain, try to make Trevor understand that they weren't just fucking, that he and Blaine were…it didn't matter. Even as he opened his mouth to explain, he knew it didn't matter.

“You can't imagine how sorry I am to hear that,” Trevor spit out. “I will expect your letter of resignation on my desk by tomorrow.”

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “I understand.”

“And, Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you're happy with the mess you've made.” And with that, Trevor was gone.

Kurt tossed his phone down on the bed and sighed.

“What happened?” Blaine's voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around Kurt.

“Trevor fired me,” Kurt said, the words acid on his tongue. “Sugar told him about us and he fired me.”

“I'll call him. I'll fucking explain that it was all me, that I pursued you. This is total bullshit! He can't just fire you!”

“He can and he did.”

“No, I won't let this happen, he-”

“It's okay, Blaine, I knew this was an inevitability. That first night you came to my apartment and you kissed me, I knew. I knew I had to make a choice,” Kurt said, their faces breaths apart, “I picked you.”

They kissed, warm lips and soft tongues, both trying to communicate their love for the other in touches and moans. Blaine broke the kiss and  pulled Kurt into a tight hug. “But this is your career, Kurt. You can't just throw it away for me.”

Kurt took a deep breath and smiled. “Maybe it's time for me to move on to something new.”

———————-

It was 6:20 when Kurt arrived at the Ryman. He'd gone home first and changed his clothes, taking care not to look like he had done so. But he knew his fitted dark wash jeans and black on black paisley button down looked good. His hair was swept up in practiced perfection as he walked down 5th Avenue and up the short staircase to the will call entrance.

He flashed his All Access laminate and made his way backstage, climbing the narrow staircase that wound up just off the lobby. The dressing room door was open and Kurt knocked as he went in. “Hello? Blaine?”

Blaine stood up from the worn leather couch, his eyes rimmed in black eyeliner, his dark curls just the right amount of sexy messy. He looked incredible. “You made it,” he said, his hands settling on Kurt's waist. “You look amazing.”

“I'm sorry I'm so late, I had a meeting that went long.” Kurt placed a kiss to Blaine's cheek and pulled him to sit down next to him on the couch. 

“What is it? You seem fidgety.”

“I was over at the NARAS office. Gary, you remember meeting him at the GRAMMY Block Party? We were talking about how much the industry has changed over the last few years, how record labels have really lost their foothold in the music community. Everyone was,” Kurt licked his lips, dragging it out, “they were especially interested in hearing the first hand account of how you left Vine and everything that happened.”

“They didn't know?”

“No, they knew. Everyone did. I think they just wanted to see if I would offer up some new piece of gossip. They were more than complimentary about my leaving Vine and going into management. I guess Gary and Trevor had a falling out a few years ago and Gary hasn't let it go.”

Blaine laughed, “But you haven't really gone into management, you only manage me.” Kurt smacked him on the arm in feigned disgust.

“Oh, don't worry,” Blaine cooed, his eyes on Kurt's lips. “I like the way you manage me.” 

“Anyway,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes and smiling, “Gary had some big news to share with me. About you.” 

“About me?”

“Blaine, they've noticed. They've noticed you have three sold out shows this weekend. At the Ryman. They've noticed that every A-level artist who matters wants you on their tour. They've noticed your unstoppable radio single and your Top 5 position on iTunes. Blaine, they've seen the Twitter comments.”

“I don't get it.”

“NARAS, the fucking GRAMMYs, has decided to include indie artists in their New Artist of the Year category.”

Blaine's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open. “But…they don't…why?”

“Because they've noticed. You.”

Blaine shook his head back and forth, a wide grin on his face.

“And of course, Gary couldn't say you'd be getting a nomination but….he asked me over to their offices. To specifically tell me about this. About you.”

Blaine lunged at him, wrapping him up and peppering his face with kisses. “You are the best, Kurt, the fucking BEST!”

“It wasn't me,” Kurt said, his eyes filling with tears, “it was you. It was your bravery, your determination to be true to yourself. To say, to hell with what anyone thinks. It was you, Blaine.”

Blaine smiled, his hands on Kurt's face. “I love you. None of the rest of it matters, you know. Not this show tonight, not a GRAMMY, not some world tour….just you. I wouldn't be anywhere, wouldn't be anyone, without you.”

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. “Five minutes, Blaine.”

“Thanks,” Blaine answered, turning back to Kurt and kissing his cheek. “Will you stay for the show?”

“Always. I always stay.”

———————-

The energy of the crowd swirled around the historic room like an electric current. Kurt was standing in the balcony sound booth as the lights went down and loud chatter erupted into screaming applause. Blaine walked on stage carrying his own guitar. Kurt put a hand to his lips and laughed. No matter the show, no matter the venue, Blaine insisted on coming out without introduction, without fanfare. Before the light show, before his band joined him on stage, Blaine sang the same song every night, said the same thing. Kurt had even seen GIFs of the speech on Tumblr.

“Hey, everybody, I'm Blaine.” He tuned his guitar, waiting for the shouts and catcalls to subside. “I'd like to play you a song I wrote for someone very special to me. Someone who taught me the importance of being true to myself, true to who I am. I came alive when I met him.” The crowd roared and Kurt grinned. Event though he'd heard it dozens and dozens of times, Blaine's speech still made his knees tremble and his cheeks ache. “This song is called ‘Words.' I hope you like it.”