It was ten after seven when the doorman, Frank, buzzed Kurt that he had a guest on the way up. Kurt had time to check his hair again and smooth down his shirt before there was a knock at the door.

Kurt straightened his posture and took a deep breath, his Prada loafers silent on the dark cherry hardwood floor. Looking through the peephole, he couldn't see Blaine's face, just a blur of dark, curly hair.

Kurt turned the deadbolt and opened the door to find Blaine with one hand shoved into his front pants pocket and the other leaning against the doorframe, face down so that Kurt could only see the top of his head. “I see Sugar got you here safe and sound?”

“I was down at Merchants having drinks with some friends.” Blaine raised his head but didn't look Kurt in the eye, his eyelashes grazing his cheeks. “I walked over.” 

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat and repeated to himself what he'd been saying since he left the office: off-limits, off-limits, off-limits, off-limits.

“Either way, glad you made it. Come on in.” Kurt pulled the door wide, making room for Blaine to walk through. Blaine hesitated, standing up straight and shifting his weight back and forth, looking up and down the hallway. He was wearing skin-tight, dark jeans and a rumpled oxford with the sleeves messily pulled up to his elbows, collar hanging open. Standing in front of Kurt's door, jangly nerves and stone-faced, he was the definition of effortless beauty. 

“You don't need to be so nervous,” Kurt said, more to himself than to Blaine.

Blaine stayed put, mouth in a worried line, fingers drumming against his thigh. Kurt crossed his arms and took a step forward, leaning against the open door. “We got off on the wrong foot.” Kurt said, looking for the right words. “I mean, you have to admit we had an interesting introduction, didn't we?” The right side of Blaine's mouth ticked up in a barely there smile. “I was serious about wanting to get to know you. We're going to be working together very closely and I'd like it if…if we could start over.”

Blaine leaned forward looking down at his shoes and shaking his head back and forth, a tiny movement Kurt wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't staring. And he shouldn't be staring, shouldn't be thinking about gripping Blaine's dark curls and shoving him against the door to lick into his mouth. He shouldn't be thinking about getting Blaine naked and touching and kissing every last dip and curve of his body. He definitely should not be thinking about that.

Blaine cleared his throat and looked up at Kurt, meeting his eyes for the first time since he'd arrived. Kurt's knees weakened, the light catching the endless swirls of golden honey in Blaine's eyes. “Do you really think we can do that,” Blaine asked, leaning in a fraction of an inch, “start over?”

“I think we can try.”

Blaine held Kurt's gaze for a moment and before walking inside, his shoulder brushing Kurt's as he walked past.

“Wow,” Blaine said, standing in front of the floor to ceiling living room windows that overlooked downtown Nashville, “your view is unreal.”

“It's what sold me on the place,” Kurt said, standing next to Blaine while keeping his distance, “that and the rooftop pool.”

“Rooftop pool, huh? Sounds ripe for debauchery.” Blaine was smiling, his carefully constructed shield down, at least for the moment.

“I'm told it can be. I haven't had a chance to partake in the debauchery firsthand.”

“Too busy making regular guys like me into super stars?” Blaine was full on smiling now, all teeth and crinkly eyes.

“So,” Kurt said, shaking off inappropriate thoughts and walking backwards into the kitchen, “I know I said I would cook for you but the day got away from me. I ordered up some asian fusion. I hope that's okay?”

“I love a good fusion,” Blaine said, following Kurt into the galley kitchen, admiring the marble countertops and tall cherry cabinets.

Kurt gestured to three huge sacks on the counter. “I didn't know what you liked so…”

Blaine couldn't help the laugh that burst out of him. “Kurt, how much food did you think we were going to eat?”

Kurt began unloading the first sack onto a brown leather tray. “I didn't know what you'd like so I ordered one of everything, including all of the vegetarian and vegan options.”

“That's…thorough.”

“Something you will learn about me. I'm very thorough,” he said, winking at Blaine. It came out more flirty than he'd intended, but Blaine's boyish grin never faltered. “I have some floor cushions in the living room, we could dine with a view?”

“Sounds perfect,” Blaine said, picking up a crab rangoon and biting it in half. “Mmmm, these are fucking amazing,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Kurt realized he was staring, hands in mid-air ready to grab the next dish. Kurt had a thing for hot guys eating food, like Brad Pitt in Oceans 11, always biting and licking fingers and lips and oh god. He had to focus. This was supposed to be professional dinner to discuss ideas for the record. Blaine was not the hottest make-out of his life, Blaine was his new artist. His job. His livelihood.

“There's some beer in the fridge,” Kurt said, keeping his eyes on the food in the dishes, not the food making it's way into Blaine's perfect lips and enticing tongue. “Could you bring some into the living room?”

“I can do that.”

Kurt carried the tray full of food into the living room. He could hear Blaine humming something familiar as he set everything out on the long rectangle coffee table leaving barely enough room for plates and glasses.

Kurt kicked off his loafers and sat down on the floor cushion in front of his flat screen TV leaving the one in front of the couch open for Blaine. It felt like a date, Kurt realized.  

Blaine rounded the corner from the kitchen, two beer bottles in each hand and a bottle opener under his arm. “This looks great, Kurt, thank you.” Kurt smiled as Blaine placed the bottles on the table and unlaced his black boots.

“You're welcome. Now you can watch the sunset the way it was meant to be seen, from a high rise.”

“How do you know I don't live in a high rise,” Blaine asked, sinking down from the couch onto the floor.

“That's true, I guess I don't. Kung Pao Chicken?”

They ate in comfortable silence, making small talk about the food and passing various dishes to try. 

“So tell me,” Kurt asked, opening a second beer, “what's the first thing I should know about rising star, Blaine Anderson?” 

It wasn't what Kurt wanted to ask, not at all. He wanted to ask why Blaine had come on to him so strongly that night and why this felt like a date and why Blaine said he's straight but seemed scared when he'd said it. 

Blaine put his fork down and drank what was left of his second beer. “Another?”

Kurt knew he shouldn't. He knew. “Yes.”

Blaine jumped up and retrieved two more beers, bringing them back to the coffee table to open.

“The first thing you need to know about Blaine Anderson,” Blaine said, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes, “is that I prefer Jack Nicholson's Joker over all the other jokers. And I like oatmeal raisin cookies better than all the other kinds of cookies. I was a vegetarian for exactly one year, on a dare. I'm allergic to grapes and,” Blaine lowered his chin, a measured look on his face, “I'm scared shitless about what you must think of me.”

Kurt twirled his beer bottle around and around in one hand, his eyes locked on Blaine's. “Jack Nicholson is the greatest Joker, that's true, but oatmeal raisin cookies are a travesty to the cookie name and should be outlawed. Meat is delicious, especially this Mongolian Beef and I've never heard of anyone being allergic to grapes so I don't think that's true.” Kurt leaned back, his hands on the floor behind him. “And about that last one, I'm…confused.”

“I'm sorry, Kurt. I've been such an asshole.”

Kurt didn't say anything, wanting Blaine to keep talking. He didn't.

Instead, Blaine stood up and offered Kurt his hand. Kurt wasn't sure the intention, but Blaine's his timid expression squeezed Kurt's heart up into his throat. 

They walked out onto Kurt's tiny balcony overlooking the Nashville skyline. Standing side by side, shoulders and hips and feet bumping and brushing together, Kurt decided to go first.

“This is incredibly embarrassing to admit, but that night at the karaoke bar…I was so overwhelmed by you.” Kurt turned to face Blaine, leaning against the iron railing. “You were a complete and utter stranger and I would have done absolutely anything you asked. Which, you should know, is not something I do. Ever.”

Blaine turned, too, facing Kurt, their hands touching, knuckles grazing, fingertips lingering. “Me, too.”

“You?”

“What happened that night, Kurt, that's not something I do. Ever.”

“Because you're…straight?”

“Because I have to be straight. Because…because every person in my life who's ever had an opinion about my future, the future of my career, has let me know that I am straight. Because my ‘sex appeal with women' is my greatest strength. Because the only way I will ever get to do what I love is to be a…to be…” Blaine leaned away from the railing and slid down the wall onto the small patch of concrete.

Kurt sat down next to him and reached out his hand. Blaine took it, his watery eyes breaking what little resolve Kurt had left.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine said, voice trembling. “I really fucked up, didn't I.”

Kurt raised Blaine's hand to his lips and kissing his fingertips, the hitch in Blaine's breath sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Why did you leave, that night at Ms. Kelli's? You didn't know who I was,” Kurt whispered, holding Blaine's hand in both of his own.

“When I saw you dancing on that stage, the way you moved, I've never been so drawn to someone. You were mesmerizing. Electric. I knew what a risk I was taking but I had to do it. I had to have you.”

Kurt's could feel his face heating, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “But then you left.”

“I got spooked. You said you would take me home and your hand was…your hand was on my dick, Kurt. I freaked the fuck out.”

“I don't understand. You could have just said no. Why did you run?”

“Kurt,” Blaine's eyes were on his and Kurt could see it. Blaine was laying it all out, saying things he may have never said before, to anyone. “I've lived my entire life as a straight man.”

“Are you saying…do you mean that you've never been with a man?”

Blaine pulled his hand away and scrubbed it over his face, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I've…I've kissed a couple of guys, drunk at a party, that sort of thing. But, no, I've never…” 

“But you were so…I mean…I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be insensitive but I have been with men. Not a lot, but you know, some, and Blaine, I have never been kissed like that. By anyone. I have never been touched like that. I…I thought about you constantly after that night. When Sugar introduced you to me in the conference room I thought I was hallucinating.”

Kurt barely got the last words out before Blaine surged forward, their mouths meeting in a crash of lips and tongues. Blaine's hands came up and grabbed Kurt's face, his hair, pulling him forward. They kissed and kissed, barely coming up for air before being dragged down again. Blaine's lips were soft and sweet and hard and insistent, all at once.  Kurt could taste the salty tears on Blaine's lips as he pulled Kurt into his lap. 

Kurt…Kurt…he murmured, pressing kisses into Kurt's jaw, his throat. Blaine moved his lips to Kurt's ear, kissing and whispering, “I could kiss you forever.”

“Yes,” Kurt said, winding his arms around Blaine's neck and holding on, “yes.”