Kurt rounded the corner to Libby's cubicle and plopped down on her desk.

“Holy hell, Kurt,” she yelped, “you scared the shit out of me.” Libby narrowed her eyes and scrunched her eyebrows together. “To what do I owe the pleasure Mr. I-Just-Got-Laid?”

“What makes you think I got laid?”

“Oh please, look at you. You banged your hot little artist didn't you?” Kurt glared at her, his mouth in a straight line. “Your shirttail is untucked and there are more than five hairs out of place and you're visiting my sad, windowless cubicle in the middle of the day. Something happened.”

Kurt sighed. “He showed up at my apartment last night.”

Libby crossed her arms and leaned back in her desk chair. “Continue.”

“He showed up all rumpled and gorgeous and vulnerable. What was I supposed to do?”

“Bone him, duh. But I thought you said he was embroiled in some sort of bosom soup-du-jour at the Ryman show?”

“He said Sugar brought those girls, that he wasn't interested in them. That is was part of his persona,” Kurt said, curving his fingers into air quotes.

“And you believed him.”

“I did. I do.”

“So you boned him,” she said, smiling as Kurt shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Was it hot? Does he have a big dick? Tell me everything.”

“It wasn't like that, Libby. It was…he was…we…” Kurt moved off of the desk and slid down onto the floor. 

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, uh-oh. He's…amazing. He's sweet and funny and so unbelievably sexy I think I might actually burst into flames.” Kurt looked at Libby with sad eyes. “He stayed over. This morning I had a meeting and afterwards I hurried back to my apartment and found him naked. In my kitchen. Eating an apple.”

“Oh my god.”

Kurt drew his knees up to his chest and laid his head down. “I don't want to fall for him, I don't. He's my artist and he's figuring things out and his manager is doing everything she can to turn him into a walking billboard for straight sex. It's too much. He's too much.”

Libby climbed out of her chair and sat next to Kurt on the floor, pulling him into a hug. 

“You're right, it's a mess. You should totally run away as fast as you can from the white hot sex magnet with the magic penis. But, Honey, I'd say by the looks of you,” she said, rubbing circles over his back with her rounded fingernails, “it's too late for that.”

———————-

Kurt was up late working. His boss had called to inform him that the Program Director for Lightning 100 was at the Ryman show and wanted to add Blaine's single as soon as it was ready. Kurt was ordered to work up a marketing plan and single launch plan…immediately. He had just emailed the plans to the team when his phone buzzed with a text.

12:43am - From Blaine

U awake?

12:43am - From Kurt

Oh god, please tell me you're not one of those text speak people. I cannot abide text speak.

12:43am - From Blaine

What RU wearing?

12:44am - From Kurt

I'm wearing a look of disgust at you using text speak.

12:45am - From Blaine

Hot

Kurt was formulating a flirty response when his phone rang.

“Hey, am I calling too late?” Blaine's voice was low and husky in that almost-asleep way that Kurt loved.

Kurt cleared his throat and stretched his legs under the comforter. “No, I've been finishing up some work. Was just getting into bed.”

“Mmm.” Kurt could hear Blaine thinking through the phone.

“Shouldn't you be getting beauty rest for your big photo shoot tomorrow?”

“I was but…I couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk to you.” He sounded worried.

Kurt turned onto his side and held his phone between the pillow and his ear. “I'm listening.”

“When I came to your apartment last night, I was pretty sure you weren't going to let me in. I just, I knew I had to try. And then you did and….Kurt….last night was…”

Kurt smiled, waiting to hear what else Blaine needed to say.

“I know this is all…I know it won't be easy. I know I've got shit to work out, but…”

“But?”

“I really like you, Kurt.” Blaine's voice cracked on Kurt's name, splitting Kurt's heart wide open, warmth spreading out to the roots of his hair and the tips of his toes.

“I like you, too.” So much, Kurt thought, so so much.

“I want you to know that I heard everything you said. I know you don't want something casual or hidden. I know I'm your artist and that complicates things. I know this is all fairly fucked up. But I…I want to try, Kurt. I want to be with you.”

“Blaine…”

“I just…I wanted you to know, before everything starts tomorrow. I can't promise that I won't screw something up or that I won't let you down. But I want this, you. I want you.”

“Me, too.”

They were silent for a moment, each listening to the other breathe, mouths curling into nervous smiles.

“So,” Blaine said, his voice thick with sleep and possibility, “where does that leave us? How do we…what should we do?”

Kurt closed his eyes and imagined his boss finding out. Sugar. Grant. As much as Kurt wanted to fall into a fairytale, he knew it wasn't that easy. Nothing about this would be easy.

“Blaine, what about your career? Your persona?”

“I don't want to start my career living a lie. I want to be honest about who I am.”

“As brave as that is, and it is, I don't think you can avoid being labeled, especially in your genre. People need to know what box to put you in so they can make themselves feel better. Believe it or not, there are certain people in this business who don't want to work with me because they know I'm gay.”

Blaine sighed. “I know you're right, I know it's insane to think I could come out and not face a total shit storm. But it's what I want to do. Need to do.”

“You're sure? That's a big step and-”

“I'm sure.”

Kurt laughed to himself, not believing what was happening. “What,” Blaine asked, a smile in his voice.

“Nothing, I just…I'm happy. You make me happy.”

Blaine let out a long breath and hummed. “You are…”

Kurt smiled, “Devastatingly handsome? Surprisingly wise? A total catch?”

“My favorite. You, Kurt Hummel, are my favorite thing.”

——————

A loud clap of thunder woke Kurt up from a dead sleep. He reached for his phone but the battery was dead. He had fallen asleep talking to Blaine and never plugged it in. Stumbling out of bed he flipped on the light switch but the light didn't turn on. “The hell?”

Walking through the apartment he realized the power was out. He grabbed his watch from the coffee table and saw that he was an hour late for the photo shoot. 

“SHIT! Shit shit shit shit shit shit,” he shouted, running through his apartment and getting dressed as fast as he could. 

The photo shoot was at Craft Studio on 2nd Avenue, walking distance from Kurt's apartment, but today he was driving due to the sudden, late summer thunderstorm. Kurt owned a silver BMW Z4 Coupe, the most beautiful car he'd ever seen. He bought it when he was promoted to VP at Vine and had barely driven it, obsessed with keeping it pristine. 

The rain let up just as Kurt pulled into the Craft Studio parking lot. He unplugged his phone from the car charger and stepped out onto the gravel, avoiding several large puddles. He made it to the front door and saw Liam, Grant and Sugar all huddled under a large golf umbrella.

“Sorry I'm late, the power went out at my place. Is there power here?” No one said a word, all of them avoiding looking at Kurt. “What are you guys doing? Why aren't you inside.”

“That man is completely out of control,” Liam blurted, pulling a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. “He won't listen to anyone. He won't take any direction. He's just…shit, Kurt, I don't know how we're going to fix this.”

“Calm down,” Kurt said, “it's just a photo shoot. We can handle it. Why are you guys out here? And since when do you smoke?”

“I don't know man. I do not know,” Liam said, lighting his cigarette and stalking through the parking lot.

Kurt quirked his eyebrow at the other two. “What is going on?”

“Baird has a process,” Sugar said, hands on her hips.

“Bullshit,” Grant barked, “he's completely insane! This entire thing was a mistake and we are totally fucked. He's got some sort of bondage situation going on in there, I don't even know. It's a complete nightmare.”

“Bondage?” Kurt's eyebrows shot up, incredulous. “Look, I don't care who he is, I'm going in. I suggest you both get your heads out of your asses and come with me.”

Kurt pulled open the heavy white door and stopped before making it over the threshold, Grant and Sugar on his heels. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

“WHAT? THE HELL? IS GOING ON IN HERE?”

Baird LeConte, a tiny, greasy little man, had his back to Kurt and was shooting Blaine against the studio's white infinity wall. Blaine was shirtless, wearing black leather pants that laced at the crotch and left little to the imagination. He was surrounded by four topless, female models in g-strings, all of them touching and groping him. The models were wearing large, spiked dog collars with leather leashes, the ends of which were stuffed into Blaine's leather pants. 

Blaine locked eyes with Kurt, a desperate plea in his expression.

“This” Kurt seethed, walking over to at Baird, “ends now.

“Thank god,” Blaine breathed out under his breath.

“What is zis? Who are you,” Baird sneered at Kurt, his heavy accent as pretentious as the Captain's boating hat he was wearing. “I am verking. Do not disturb ze art.”

“ZIS,” Kurt shouted, “is Kurt Hummel, Vice President of Marketing at Vine Records, the company paying you for this shoot. And I did not authorize a photo shoot that's degrading to both my artist and these women.” Kurt looked at one of the production assistants, “Could you please get some robes for these ladies?”

Baird moved closer to Kurt, narrowing his eyes. “You come into my studio, disturb my verk, disrupt my vision?”

“When your vision disgusts me in every possible way, yes, I do. You're fired.”

Baird handed his camera to an assistant, a blonde woman in a neon pink tube top and cut-off jean shorts so short her ass cheeks were exposed. He put one finger on Kurt's chest.

“You will regret zis, Mr. Vice Prezident. No one fires Baird LeConte.” He narrowed his eyes at Sugar, “No one.”

Kurt took a step back and glared at Baird, standing straight and towering over him. “We will no longer be requiring your services. Please gather your team and exit the building.”

“Kurt, don't do this,” Sugar pleaded, her face red as a beet. “Baird is a genius. You need to let him-”

“You're fired.” It was Blaine. His eyes were hard and he was shaking. 

“Blaine, Honey, you can't fire Baird, he's-”

“You,” Blaine shouted, moving closer to Sugar. “You are fired. I don't want you to be my manager anymore.”

Sugar squeaked. An actual squeak. “You listen to me you little shit. I am Beverly Sugar, I run this town. I can make you and I can definitely break you. Before you met me you were nothing to no one. Think carefully about what you say next.”

Blaine took another step towards Sugar, right up in her face and smiled. “Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

It was all Kurt could do not to shout hallelujah.

———————

Everyone was gone. Baird had left in a huff, shouting in French about how no one in the entirety of Nashville would ever be able to hire him again. Sugar cried, begged Blaine to take her back, then spewed a string of curse words and slammed the door. Grant laughed and patted Kurt and Blaine both on the back, “Amazing set of balls, both of you.” Liam had missed the whole thing, probably down at a bar on Broadway nursing a beer and muttering about Baird LeConte.

“I'm so glad you showed up,” Blaine said. He and Kurt were sitting on the floor against the infinity wall, drinking the leftover champagne. “I know I should have shut it down but Baird can be pretty persuasive. I didn't know which end was up. You saved me.”

Kurt preened. “I do what I can.”

Blaine leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “I fired my manager. And I've pissed off two pretty powerful people.” He took a drink from the champagne bottle and passed it to Kurt. “Am I totally fucked?”

“No, you're not,” Kurt said, taking a drink and letting his eyes wander over Blaine's naked chest. “You've just proven that you can handle yourself. That you're not just a pretty face with a sexy voice.”

Blaine cracked one eye open. “You think I'm pretty?”

Kurt laughed. “Come on, you know you're gorgeous. It's too bad we couldn't finish the shoot because we really do need a photo and you look…wow.”

Blaine leaned over and grabbed Kurt's chin, kissing him and grinning. “You think I'm preeeeeetty.”

“It's the hair,” Kurt breathed, Blaine kissing down his neck, “it's all messy sexy curly.” Blaine unbuttoned the top button on Kurt's shirt and kissed his collarbone. “And it's that damn eyeliner. It makes me want to do bad things to you. And why aren't you wearing a shirt? I wanted to kill those poor girls for putting their hands all over you.”

Blaine looked up, catching Kurt's eye. “You were jealous.”

“Crazy jealous,” Kurt said, pulling Blaine's hair and biting his lips, “I'm the only one who gets to manhandle you.”

“Manhandle me. Please,” Blaine said, reaching around Kurt's waist and grabbing his ass.

Kurt jumped up and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “First, I need a photo. Now, do your sexy pose, Monsieur Anderson. Zis is my process, ze art,” Kurt said, lips pouting, mimicking Baird's thick accent.

Blaine stood up, laughing, the laces on the crotch of his leather pants pulled loose. “Get over here,” Blaine said, reaching for Kurt.

“No,” Kurt said, dodging him and laughing, snapping more photos. “I've been sent here to do a job and I am a man of my word.”

They danced around each other, laughing and grabbing each other. Blaine looked effortless and bright as Kurt snapped photo after photo, Blaine covering his face with his hands, his smile covering his entire face.

“Perfect,” Kurt said, putting his phone back into his pocket. “Who picked out these pants, anyway?” Kurt reached for the laces and pulled Blaine towards him, “I can totally see the outline of your dick.”

“I think maybe that was the point?”

“I see, Sugar's doing I presume?” Kurt tugged down on the laces, running his fingers over the trail of dark hair leading down, down down… “Since you've fired her you should probably get rid of them.”

Blaine surged forward, licking into Kurt's mouth, a moan on his lips, the sounds of their greedy kisses echoing off the walls. Blaine pulled away, suddenly. “Wait, wait. Isn't the studio manager in the back office?”

“Hmmm, probably? I should go back and let her know we're done with the space. But,” Kurt said, kissing Blaine's neck and sliding his hands into the back of Blaine's pants, “I have a car. A fast car. And fast car that can get us to my apartment very…fast.”

“You had me at fast…fuck, Kurt,” Blaine paused, pulling back to look into Kurt's eyes, playfulness turning into raw need, “you had me the first moment I laid eyes on you.”