Kurt didn't think anyone else would be there, but the light was on in Grant's office when he stepped off the elevator.

“What are you doing here on a Sunday night,” Kurt said. Grant was sitting turned towards the window, his feet up on the window sill.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Grant said, not turning around, “although I'm pretty sure I can guess. Sugar?”

“She's doing her level best to ruin Blaine's career before it even starts. CAA dropped him,” Kurt said, walking into Grant's office and pacing the floor, “and Mercy Lounge canceled next week's gig, something about being ‘double booked.'”

“Yeah, I heard about CAA. Sugar called me.”

“And?”

“You know Sugar, Kurt. She's mad. She's making threats. She wants us to drop Blaine.”

“She can't do that. Turn around and talk to me and tell me she can't do that.”

“Technically no, she can't,” Grant said, spinning around and slouching down in his chair. “But she can definitely make it impossible for us to have a successful launch. Lightning 100 is already ‘rethinking' their add. She's got connections everywhere. And she is pissed.”

“Don't you want to fight for him?”

“Yeah, I mean, sure. Yes. I think.”

“Grant.”

Grant reached under his desk and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. “I'm not sure I want to deal with the shit storm that will definitely be coming my way if we challenge her,” he said, holding up a glass for Kurt.

“No, thank you.”

“Good. More for me.”

“Grant, focus. If you think Blaine is going to go crawling back to her it is not going to happen.”

Grant stood up, spinning the glass in his hand, and stared at Kurt, the crease between his eyes a deep cavern. “What's in this for you? Why are you so involved, anyway?”

“I'm always invested in launching priority acts, you know that,” Kurt said, hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor.

“Yeah but, this one seems different. You're…I don't know, man.”

“What are you implying, Grant?”

“I'm implying that Beverly Sugar is not someone you want to tangle with, especially since Blaine was her little pet project. She paraded him around town, told everyone about him. This whole situation is a huge embarrassment for her. You don't want to get caught in the crossfire.”

Kurt flopped down onto Grant's leather couch and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We can't let her do this. He's too…it's…I can't let her do this to him.”

Grant sat next to Kurt on the couch, holding his glass with the tips of his fingers.

“Kurt, I know we've never been close and it's probably none of my business but, I've never seen you like this. Are you…,” he drained his glass, “is there something going on between you two?”

Kurt paused, breathing hard through his nose and waffling between denying his feelings and spilling it all, every last detail.

Grant pressed in further. “Fraternizing with an artist is definitely ill-advised, especially a straight, male artist. You could get fired.”

“I…,” Kurt looked at Grant with a fixed concentration, “I know.”

Grant sighed and lightly shoved Kurt's shoulder. “You better be sure about this.”

A quiet laugh escaped Kurt's lips. “He's the only thing I'm sure of.”

———————-

Kurt was pacing his apartment in his underwear debating whether or not it was too late to call Blaine when his phone rang.

“Blaine, hi, I-”

“Kurt, I'm-”

Both men paused, a happy silence on the phone.

“Blaine, before you say anything, I have a plan.”

“A plan.”

“Yes. I booked The Tippler for Wednesday night. We're going to have a showcase and I'm inviting absolutely everyone, managers and booking agents and radio and everyone. We're going to show this town just what you can do, Sugar be damned.”

“Kurt…”

“Listen to me, Blaine. You are too talented to let one hiccup get you off track. I know we can-”

“Kurt.”

“-make this work. I believe in you. I believe-”

“Kurt!”

“What?”

“I'm standing outside your door.”

Kurt smiled and walked over to the door, looking through the peephole. Blaine waved, phone to his ear, mouth closed in a knowing smile. “Blaine, I'm going to have to let you go. There's an incredibly sexy man here to see me.” He hung up the phone and opened the door. “Hi.”

“Cute,” Blaine said, motioning to Kurt's revealing underwear.

“I didn't expect to be receiving guests.”

“I like you like this,” Blaine said, touching Kurt's chest with his index finger, “all rumpled and lanky. And glasses, too. I like it.”

“You think I'm lanky?” Kurt put his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side.

Blaine smiled and pulled Kurt to him. “I think you're perfect. Now stop distracting me, I came here to say something.”

“Can you come inside and say it? My neighbors think I'm classy and put-together. I'd hate to spoil the illusion.”

Blaine followed Kurt into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. “I don't know, I'd say the way you wiggle your ass in those boxer briefs is pretty fucking classy.”

“Perv,” Kurt said, shaking his ass as he walked into the living room. He sat down on the couch and motioned for Blaine to sit with him. 

Blaine sat down and leaned in for a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt said, kissing Blaine back and smiling against his lips.

“I've been thinking,” Blaine said, backing away, but only far enough to look Kurt in the eye, “and I've come to a conclusion. I have royally fucked up my music career and-”

“You haven't.”

“Let me get this out,” Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hands and kissing his knuckles.

“Okay,” Kurt said, pulling his legs onto the couch and facing Blaine.

“I'm going to call Grant in the morning. I'm going to give back my advance.”

“Blaine, no.”

“I'm going to give it all back and let Vine off the hook. I know Sugar's been harassing Grant and that's definitely not what I want.”

“Blaine-” 

Blaine put his hand over Kurt's mouth. “I can just book my own shows and make my own music. I've been doing it for years and…I love it. Besides,” he took his hand away, “if I'm not signed to a major label I can live my life the way I want to without having to worry about my reputation or making the label look bad. And I can live it with the…the person I want.” 

Kurt's heart was pounding, heat spreading through his chest. 

Blaine leaned closer and put his hand on Kurt's neck. “And it's you, Kurt. You're my person.”

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed out as their mouths met in a desperate kiss. Kurt moaned, “wait,” as Blaine kissed down his neck. “Wait, wait, wait. You can't quit.”

“I've decided what's most important to me,” Blaine breathed into Kurt's ear. “And it isn't money.” A kiss behind his ear. “And it isn't fame.” A kiss on his neck. “And it isn't a fancy record contract.” A kiss under his chin. “And it isn't a number one single.” A kiss to his mouth, open and wet.

“If you're trying to seduce me with your romantic speech and your gorgeous lips, you should know,” Kurt said, nuzzling his nose into Blaine's neck, “it's working. But you can't give up your career for me.”

Blaine framed Kurt's face with his hands, pulling his eyes to his and gazing so deeply Kurt's toes went numb. “I can. I will. I want to.” He kissed him, pulling Kurt's lips into his mouth one by one.

“You can have both. I want you to have both.”

Blaine pushed Kurt back onto the couch and covered him, his hands strong on Kurt's thighs and stomach and chest, his lips insistent. Intoxicating.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, his voice thin and breathy, “we need to talk about this.”

“We will,” Blaine said, sitting up and pulling off his shirt, “but right now,” he pulled on the waistband of Kurt's boxer briefs and reached inside, “there's something else I want to do with my mouth.”