You didn't text me back, Kurt. I've been waiting, and waiting.” Libby was whisper shouting into Kurt's ear as they walked towards the Vine Records building. Libby worked for the law office next door to Vine. “What happened with your mystery boy?”

“I can't talk about this right now,” Kurt said, swiping his access card to open the front door. He had tried and failed to wipe the smile off his face his entire walk to work.

“Oh you will talk about it and you will talk about it right now. You can't just obsess over some guy, only to find out he's real and your new artist,” 

“Shhhhh,” Kurt hissed, holding the door open for two interns carrying trays of coffees.

Libby followed Kurt through the front door, “…and then invite him over and go radio silent the ENTIRE NIGHT AND NEXT MORNING you dirty dog. You boned him, didn't you. You did.”

“Libby, you don't work here. Shoo!”

Kurt stepped onto the elevator as Libby continued to protest. At the last possible moment, Kurt stuck his hand in between the closing doors. “And…” he whispered, looking around the lobby to make sure no one was listening, “he's still in my bed.” 

The elevator doors closed on Libby's exaggerated gasp.

Kurt smirked to himself knowing his comment would send Libby into a frenzy. His phone lit up with a new text message.

From Libbs: YOU LITTLE SHIT I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kurt smiled. It wasn't exactly fair, leading her on, but it was definitely fun. While it was true that Blaine was in his bed, it wasn't the scenario Libby was no doubt playing out in vivid detail in her mind.

Kurt closed his eyes and savored the memory from the night before. After he and Blaine had come inside from the balcony, they'd kissed on the couch all tangled limbs and roaming hands. Kurt had felt euphoric. Blaine was wrapped around him like a hand on a steaming mug of coffee, all tender and soft, kissing him like he was a precious gift. Like something to be savored.

Then Blaine had helped Kurt clean up dinner and they'd kissed in the kitchen. Blaine had leaned into him, had lifted him onto the countertop, running his hands up Kurt's thighs and gripping his waist. He was smaller than Kurt, but stronger. Kurt had pushed his hands through Blaine's hair and tugged, pulling him into a dirty kiss while they pulled and grabbed at each other. 

“You're stunning,” Blaine had said, biting at Kurt's ear. 

“Kurt?” His head whipped around, not realizing he wasn't alone on the elevator. “Isn't this your floor?” Reed from sales was holding the door open.

Kurt smiled. “Oh, right, I supposed it is.”

Kurt walked to his office, waving to his assistant and and closing his door. He sat down at his desk with his head in his hands. Closing his eyes, he replayed kissing Blaine by the front door. How he'd pushed Blaine up against the wall, gripping his hips and pressing into him. How he could feel the hard lines of his body under his hands. How their knees knocked together and their hips aligned. How utterly turned on they both were. How Blaine whined when Kurt lightly bit his jaw. How Kurt moaned when Blaine pulled his collar away from his neck and sucked a kiss into his shoulder.

And how Blaine had pushed Kurt, one hand in his hair and one on his ass, against the opposite wall. How he'd felt like Blaine was taking him apart piece by piece. How Blaine was licking a long stripe up Kurt's jaw when Kurt had asked him to stay.

“Kurt, I…I don't think I'm ready…”

“Not like that. I just…I don't want you to leave. Just stay, no hanky panky.”

“Hanky panky? Kurt, I've never fucked a guy but I'm not some blushing virgin.”

“Fine,” Kurt had said, clasping his hands around Blaine's neck and fluttering his eyelashes. “Mr. Anderson, I would be so pleased if you would stay the night with me. I promise not to compromise your gay virginity.”

Blaine had smiled a wide, brilliant smile, pulling Kurt's hands down and into his own. “I guess I am pretty tired.”

“Me too. We could just…snuggle?”

Blaine had cupped Kurt's cheek and smoothed his thumb across his eyebrow. Had leaned in and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “I'm not sure how I ended up here, with you, with,” he gestured in between the two of them, “this.” He had paused, considering. Kurt had watched him, hopeful. “I want to stay.”

Kurt's office phone rang, shaking him from the memory.

“This is Kurt,” he said, blinking himself back to reality.

“Good morning, Kurtsie, Sugar here! Have you fallen in love with our Blaine yet?”

Kurt shivered, the feeling of Blaine's lips still lingering on his skin. “I-”

“I can't wait to hear all about it, but first, are you free tonight?”

“I'm-”

“Alabama Shakes have a show at the Ryman and the opening act can't make it, something about their van breaking down or their lead singer went to rehab or something but who cares because I got Blaine on. He's playing the Ryman. Tonight!” Sugar had a way of saying everything at once.

“Wow, that's-”

“That's why I'm the best! I'll leave a pass for you at will call. He'll go on at 7 so get there early. Byeeeeeee.” Sugar also had a way of hanging up before the conversation ended.

Kurt hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair letting out a long sigh. His new artist, the very same artist that was currently asleep in his bed, was playing the Ryman tonight.

Fuck.

—————

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, black pants, deep plum button down and snug, pinstriped vest 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.

“Kurt Hummel. I should be on the list for Blaine Anderson?”

All Access laminate secured, Kurt made his way backstage. He loved the Ryman Auditorium, the rich history, the acoustics, the architecture. No matter what artist was playing, going to a show at the Ryman was more than a show, it was an experience. 

He climbed the narrow staircase that wound up just off the lobby and found Blaine's small dressing room on the third floor. Sugar was standing in the outside hallway on her phone and waved a hello to Kurt. 

The door was open and Kurt knocked as he went in. “Hello? Blaine?”

He rounded the corner to see Blaine sitting on a well-worn, leather sofa with a half-naked girl in his lap and one more on each side. Blaine's hands were on the hips of the girl in his lap and her hands were around his neck. She had her head tossed back, laughing, intentionally squeezing her nearly exposed boobs together.

Kurt felt his cheeks heat up. He cleared his throat. “Blaine?”

Blaine looked up, his eyes rimmed in black eyeliner, his dark curls just the right amount of sexy messy. He looked incredible.

“Oh, hey man! Sugar said you might be coming.” His hands flexed tighter around the girl's waist. “Ladies, this is Kurt. He's head of marketing at my label.”

“Hi,” waved the girl in Blaine's lap, bangles rattling around her wrist. The other two girls didn't bother looking up from their phones.

Kurt wanted to say something, needed to say something, but he couldn't. He could only stare.

Blaine moved the girl off of his lap and stood up, putting his hand out to shake Kurt's hand. “I'm glad you could make it.” He smiled a wide, close-lipped smile, an artist smile, a smile reserved for label suits and members of the press. It wasn't a Blaine smile.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. He reached out and shook Blaine's hand. “Yes, well, it's my job to be here.”

Blaine's face fell. “Yeah…right.”

“I just came back to wish you luck. Have a great show, Blaine,” Kurt said. 

He turned to leave but was stopped by one of the girls, now draped over Blaine like a security blanket. “It was nice to meet you, Kevin.”

“Kurt,” he said, nose in the air, shoulders back. He was not going to let Blaine see him crumble.

He looked at Blaine one more time, searching for any sign of recognition, any hint of regret. 

He didn't find it.

—————

Kurt walked back up 5th Avenue to the Viridian. Most days he loved that he lived within walking distance of the Ryman. Tonight he was especially grateful.

He knew he should stay for the show, knew Sugar would ask, knew Grant would be looking for him, knew his staff would ask about it the next day, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't watch Blaine go on stage and pretend. Couldn't listen to the girls' screams. 

—————-

Kurt woke up at 1am to the sound of someone repeatedly hitting his door buzzer from the front lobby. Cursing and banging his knee on the foot of his bed, he stumbled to the intercom in his boxer briefs and pressed the button.

“This better be life or death.”

“Kurt?” It was Blaine.

Kurt ran a hand through this hair and leaned against the wall. He was not in the mood for this.

“What do you want, Blaine?”

“I wanna come up. Can I come up?”

“It's really late. I don't think its a good idea.”

“Kurt, please. I need to see you.”

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut so hard he saw stars behind his eyelids. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to be Blaine's back-up plan or secret boyfriend or whatever game this turned out to be. Besides, he hardly knew Blaine. They'd spent more time making out than talking, their entire relationship, if you could call it that, was based solely on the white hot chemistry between them. And that wasn't the way Kurt wanted to build a future with someone.

But Blaine was asking for a future. He was just asking to see him. For what, Kurt didn't know but he knew that if he let him in, he would most definitely regret it.

Kurt buzzed him up. 

He had time to throw on yoga pants and a t-shirt before Blaine was knocking on the door.

Kurt pulled the door open just wide enough to situate himself between the door and the doorframe. The sight of Blaine made Kurt's heart race. His hair was wild and his eyeliner was smudged. His hands were shoved into his pockets, wrists covered in rings of leather and plastic and fabric. His black v-neck was pulled to one side exposing his collar bone.

Kurt could feel his resolve weakening.

“Hi,” Blaine said, leaning in to kiss him. Kurt backed away.

“It's 1am. And you're drunk.”

“I know you left the show. It was total shit, anyway, so you didn't miss much. And I'm not drunk. I've had some drinks, yes, but I'm not drunk.”

Kurt didn't respond.

“Kurt. Please.” Blaine pulled his hands out of his pockets, palms up, like an offering.

“What do you want, Blaine?”

Blaine moved closer, into Kurt's space, and put his hands on his chest. His eyes were wet, searching Kurt's for any sign of acceptance. He ran his hands down Kurt's chest, achingly slow, dragging it out while Kurt bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, trying desperately not to moan. Blaine stopped at Kurt's waist, his thumbs rubbing in circles.

Blaine was so close, crowding Kurt into the doorway. Kurt could feel the heat from his body. Could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Kurt cleared his throat. “What do you want, Blaine.”

“You.” It came out in a whisper, Blaine's voice cracking, his hands burning into Kurt's skin.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not.”

“What about-”

Blaine cut him off with a searing kiss. His lips were hard and insistent. Kurt was immediately lost in it, in the taste and feel of it. In Blaine.

“No.” Kurt pushed him away and held him there, his knuckles pushing into Blaine's sternum. “No.”

“Please let me in.” Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, dragging them all the way down to his wrists. He pulled Kurt's hands to his lips and kissed his fingertips. “Kurt, please.”

Kurt opened the door wider and let him in.