Yeah he understands why he did it, and no he doesn’t actually expect Alex to do anything other than what he’s doing and romanticize the giving of his name into something it’s not, but still. What he’d done was unacceptably stupid. It’s no excuse that he hadn’t had the usual distance his sleek and sexy designer clothes usually afford him. It had been too raw and too real, and too many of the lines had blurred but it doesn’t really mean more than that. What exactly it all means he hasn’t figured out, but he reminds himself whenever the feeling arises that there isn’t any need for panic or concern. It’s not exactly a shocker that he’d think of Blaine in the middle of it all when those jeans he’d been wearing were practically stained with him.

Kurt resolves never to make the mistake again and moves on.

There are a lot of reasons for Kurt to love his job: he gets paid to do things that he has always, fantasized about – and more than a few things that he has never even dared. Tonight is a prime example; the most exclusive adult party happening in America the entire year; strictly invitation only.

The guest list is highly competitive and to get an invitation you must fulfil six essential criteria: young, attractive, educated, rich and loaded with a sense of sexual adventure. The 6th criterion is how Kurt has ended up here: couples only. Genuine couples are preferred, so what’s a horny millionaire without a partner to do? Call an escort.

As he gets ready to be picked up by the client from his apartment, Kurt feels the old fluttering in his tummy that he used to get before appointments when he first started escorting. Once he got into his stride and learned all the tricks of the trade that feeling of anticipation disappeared, but now for the first time in almost two years he really has no idea where the night might take him, anything could happen and he can barely contain his excitement. He is determined that tonight will prove once and for all that his break down was a result of nothing more than a lapse in judgment and not some sign indicating that everything is slowly falling apart.

The client can barely keep his eyes off Kurt during the ride to the party, and it is only the presence of the limousine driver that keeps his hands off him. The clothes Kurt’s wearing are pretty out there even for him, but compared to some guests milling outside he’s dressed pretty conservatively. His skin-tight black leather pants are so low cut that they barely stay on his hips. Around his waist is a black silk cummerbund which cost more than the whole suit he used to wear when he was temping. He also wears a sheer white silk shirt and he finishes it off with a fitted black blazer fastened with a single button over his navel. On his feet he wears knee high boots over the leather pants; no heel but laces right up the front so the boots are practically moulded to his calves. It’s all very debauched Dickensian, not even Russell Brand would get away with it, but at this party he fits right in.

“So what’s our story?” The client prompts as he takes Kurt’s hand to help him out of the limo. “Can you remember anything about me?” Oh please. As if Kurt doesn’t know exactly who he has on his arm right now.

“You’re Yusef Makono, 37 years old, born in Israel and lived in London for sixteen years. You live and work in Paris primarily so you speak fluent french. We met at a jazz club and bonded over our mutual love of France.”

“And about my work….”

“Anyone with a brain and an appreciation for fashion knows that you’re a designer. You’re currently the go to guy for men’s fashion.” A fact that has Kurt more than a little impressed and slightly out of breath.

“And what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a singer at that jazz club we met at.” Kurt chuckles. “You heard me sing and I sank my claws into you and won’t let go. Poor you.” Yusef throws back his head and laughs and Kurt feels smugly accomplished.

They walk through the front door and down a dimly lit staircase, invitations in hand. It soon becomes clear just how big the house is, and Kurt can’t help but marvel at it. It just seems to go on forever. They finally come to the reception station, manned by a pretty young blond in a black corset and elbow length silk gloves, her hair scraped back into a tight bun.

“Welcome, welcome,” she says in a cheeky sing song voice as they arrive. Yusef passes her their invitations which she carefully examines before ticking them off her list. There are two security guards behind the desk, twice the size of Sue’s heavies and they obviously mean business. These parties are so hard to get in to that they’re clearly expecting trouble when people are turned away.

“Okay I need you to leave all mobile phones and any audio or visual recording equipment you may have.” She holds out a glass bowl for them to put their things in. As Kurt places his cell phone in she informs them, “there’s a hotline that you can be contacted on in the event of an emergency. This number was sent out with your invitations.”

They both nod in understanding as she pushes the grand doors open before stepping back and allowing them to enter. The room beyond is huge, it sparkles with gold and crystal covering both the decor and the gorgeous people that fill it. The walls are high, leading to an ornate ceiling and are painted deep red and dotted with fairy lights. Black leather furniture is scattered around. In the middle is a stage which Kurt presumes will host some sort of music and erotic show later in the evening.

Scantily clad waiting staff are carrying trays of expensive champagne. Kurt takes a flute of champagne from a particularly hot waiter because he can. He can’t get his heart to stop pounding. Yusef smiles knowingly at the bright smile Kurt can’t seem to keep from blooming on his face despite his attempts to look haughty and above it all.

As they float around it becomes apparent to Kurt that adult parties for the rich and famous aren’t that different from regular parties. There are the people who want to be the center of attention, the shy guests who hang about in the shadows, the people who have just come because their partner insisted, those who have had too much to drink and have lost their inhibitions far too early. And of course the huge trendy group who know and network with everyone, including the hosts.

Kurt and Yusef wander curiously into the next room. Like any other party there’s always an separate area where the real fun happens. The room contains several giant sofas and beds with red netting around them as well as a massive cushion in the middle that could easily take three or four couples. There is currently only one couple fucking at the far end of the room against the mirrored wall, but the smell of sex permuting the room is already overwhelming, and Kurt finds it unashamedly intoxicating.

He purrs in delight, leading Yusef towards the chaise lounge on their right before stretching out on it. He opens his legs, laid out for Yusef’s view and dances his fingers across his thighs and over the stark erection his leather pants do nothing to hide.

“You’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear,” he whispers breathily as he pulls Yusef on top of him. Yusef’s steady hands undo the ties on Kurt’s trousers, kissing his stomach as he pulls downward and Kurt wiggles until his hard cock springs free.

“It’s still early,” the older man murmurs as he takes Kurt’s cock in his hand.

“We’ve got all night,” Kurt reminds him, thrusting up into his hand. “What do you want to do to me?”

“What I really want,” Yusef whispers as he kisses Kurt’s lips, his hand still on his cock. “Is to wait, maybe all night while all these men and women indulge in their carnal pleasures. And then when we get home, when you’re painfully hard and dripping wet and out of your mind with need, then I will fuck you.”

Kurt’s eyes widen at his words, and then again for far less pleasant reasons at the feeling of cold metal against his hot flesh. He hears a familiar click and then the sensation of being constricted. He looks down as Yusef pulls away. Kurt can’t believe it. Yusef has actually put a cock ring on him!

“Don’t want you getting carried away, do we precious?” He smiles as he tucks Kurt back in, which due to the fact that he nearly had to paint these paints on proves very difficult. It was a tight fit to begin with. Kurt looks down at the size of his bulge and sighs. So much for being inconspicuous.

Not that he particularly minds everyone knowing how turned on he is but it’s downright unfair that he can’t do a damn thing about it. This is the adult party of the decade with sex quite literally all around and he’s getting his wrist slapped and told not to touch anything.

He manages to smile sweetly through gritted teeth as Yusef leads him back into the main room but inside he’s fuming. He knows this is supposed to be all about the client and maybe it was stupid to have forgotten that for a moment but when is he ever going to be invited to a party like this as himself?

“Look at all these men,” Yusef whispers as he snakes his arms round Kurt’s waist from behind. “They all want you but they can’t have you. Only I get to fuck you.”

This is not the first time a client has treated Kurt like a possession. It’s actually a daily part of his life, but suddenly Yusef’s hands on him are frustrating Kurt and pissing him off, not turning him on in the least as they had only moments before. The night which had started so brilliantly, which had glittered and sparkled around him like a dream, seems to be dissolving and that is the most frustrating thing. Honestly.

Why? What a waste.

Kurt leaves Yusef chatting with another couple as soon as he can and saunters off on his own under the pretence of going to get them more drinks. He’s so distracted with his own thoughts (not to mention lingering sexual frustration) that he walks straight into a fellow guest as he tries to get past him, effectively spilling champagne down his vest.

“Shit I’m really sorry!” The stranger apologises as he grabs a napkin and tries to dry the both of them off. Kurt is so sexually frustrated that even this simple touch is going straight to his groin. Still he’s polite. No need to ruin someonelses night.

“No it was my fault,” he insist. “I was in my own little world.”

Kurt pushes the napkin aside and as he looks up their eyes meet for the first time. Kurt is immediately sucked into beautiful dark eyes framed by incredibly long lashes. The face isn’t stunning, interesting at best, but the way he smiles coupled with that mass of wispy dark hair makes Kurt want to hug him and lick him in turns. By the way the stranger smiles back at him Kurt is relatively sure the sentiment is mutual. Then something distracts him with his group, and he leaves Kurt with a wink.

As he walks away Kurt can’t help but stare. The guys suit is polished without being overdone and his trousers do wonderful things for his ass. He has rejoined his friends now, two women and one other guy, all of them beautifully dressed. One of the women, a sexy Latina, is wearing a dress that barely covers her thighs and a seriously beautiful pair of heels that make her long legs seem to go on for days. That decides it for Kurt. He’s going over if only to ask her how much she wants for them.

He slowly approaches the group sitting on the leather couch talking animatedly.

“Have you seen An Inconvenient Truth? Very thought provoking, and scary!” One of the women is saying. “I mean I feel so guilty, I regularly take semi short haul flights!”

“Hi,” Kurt greets as he reaches the group, causing the conversation to halt.

“Oh hey. We met just a bit earlier didn’t we?” The stranger asks and Kurt nods.

“You threw champagne on my vest. Thankfully it’s black. If you’d have ruined this shirt they’d have had to carry you out of this party on a stretcher because it’s Armani.”

The stranger blinks slowly then laughs, shifting over so Kurt can squish between him and the woman he’s with (the Latina), who shoots Kurt with the best bitch look he has seen in a long time.

“I’m Josh by the way, Josh Groban and this is Santana Lopez my girlfriend.” The stranger introduces himself and the woman next to him. Santana’s eyes rake over Kurt and smirk. Suddenly Kurt gets the feeling she knows exactly who he is and what he does. He winces but just as quickly stiffens his spine and returns her stare. He doesn’t owe this woman a thing and he’s not ashamed of who he is. Let her smirk. Kurt looks down his nose at her, turning away to address Josh.

“So Josh, what is it that you do?” He asks scooting closer to him on the couch.

“Oh please,” Santana mutters as Josh blushes.

“Well sing mostly,” he answers. “But lately I’ve been focusing on record producing.” Before Kurt can say anything in reply Santana interjects.

“And just what is it you do baby face?”

For a moment Kurt is tempted to answer with the truth just to show her how little her barbs sting, but he does have a client floating somewhere out there and as much as Kurt can’t stand him right now, he’s a professional. “I sing at a jazz club actually. Do you know what that is?” At his rather bitchy response Santana just scowls.

“So what’s your name?” Josh asks, clearly oblivious to the battle going on between Kurt and his date.

“Porcelain, Porcelain Ward.” Kurt answers with a coy smile as Josh ponders his unusual name.

“Is that a stage name?” He asks after a moment and next to him Santana rolls her eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone but yes,” Kurt answers with a wink.“I like to present an air of mystery, like Madonna. You know, make everyone wonder.” Josh laughs and leans in a bit closer.

“You know you have a beautiful speaking voice,” he compliments. “What’s your vocal range?”

“Counter tenor.” Kurt shifts even closer, so close that he’s now only inches from Josh’s face. “It’s pretty rare.”

“Here you are.” They both pull back quickly when Yusef appears behind the couch. Kurt schools his expression into something pleasant when Yusef’s hand lands on his cheek and strokes. “He’s very beautiful, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is,” Josh never takes his eyes off Kurt. For someone with a girlfriend he doesn’t seem to have too much of a problem checking out another man right in front of her.

Kurt plasters on a smile as he turns to face Yusef. He can see Josh smirking, barely containing his laughter. “Darling, Josh and I were about to go for a walk if you’d like to join us.”

“I don’t think so,” Yusef decides immediately, pulling Kurt up as he comes around the front of the couch. “Come on, I’ll give you one of my world famous shoulder massages.”

So off Josh goes, no doubt to engage in some exclusive adult fun while Kurt is sat with Mr. Possessive, receiving a shoulder massage that might be famous but isn’t particularly great. A lot of his clients have great hands but to this day the best back rub Kurt has ever received is from Blaine. Even when they were together there was no sexual element to his massages, they are designed to soothe and comfort.

“He likes you. But he can’t have you,” Yusef painfully reminds him. “Only I can have you.”

Again with the possessive streak. Kurt wonders just why Yusef thought this was a good place to bring a date if he can’t handle sharing. He’s very quickly getting fed up with this but what can he do about it but sit there smiling stiffly like a porcelain doll?

“They’re still looking.” Yusef whispers lewdly. “They can all see how hard you are, just for me. They’re all so jealous of me. They want to finger…and lick…and fuck your naughty little hole but they can’t.” Kurt cringes internally at the other mans attempts at dirty talk. This evening is rapidly going down hill to the point that he feels like he’s in a bad porno and that’s really saying something considering his day to day life.

He catches Josh’s sympathetic glance as he returns with Santana. He sits watching Kurt intently, and Kurt stares back.

“Yusef,” Santana perks up with a smile so sly Kurt actually feels a bit of fear. “Your boy here was telling us earlier that he’s a singer?”

“Yes. Porcelain is a beautiful singer. I heard him sing and I knew I wanted many many more of such performances.” Yusef boasts with so much suggestion in his tone that Kurt looks to the ceiling and fights a sigh.

“Oh my god that’s fabulous! Because Josh and I were supposed to perform later but you know, everyone has heard us, it’s boring. Why not spice it up? You should do a number to open us up Ward. I bet you’d be really good at that.” Santana smirks, tossing her long black hair and Kurt stares through her spine stiff and head held high. He hasn’t sung in public since college and he’s actually not all that keen on doing it in this setting but he can hear the contempt dripping from the woman’s tone and he will not allow her to push him around. She thinks she’s backed him into a corner but she’s wrong.

“And he sings too. You Yusef are a lucky man,” Josh says with a wistful sigh and Kurt glares at him because he knows exactly what he’s doing. Predictably Yusef swells beneath the envy of his peers and strokes Kurt’s cheek again. Kurt has to bite his cheek to prevent from biting Yusef’s hand.

“Of course Porcelain must sing. Nothing would give me greater joy.” Kurt tries to think of anyone who is a bigger tool than the guy stroking him like he’s a damn dog and comes up dry. For all he knows after all Kurt might not be able to carry a tune in a bucket. Lucky for them both he can.

Kurt uses the pretense of preparing for his performance as a reason to avoid Yusef after that. Not that it’s much of a pretense. Throwing together a number that the hired musicians can play and the dancers can dance to in a way that is both sexually arousing (this is an adult party after all) and not also completely ridiculous in just under an hour is not exactly easy work.

The band suggests all sorts of trashy pop and club music and though Kurt can sing any one of them well, once he’s in the thick of things he can’t help but want to make this his, to make this performance more than a glorified strip tease. The prospect of performing on a stage for a real crowd is enough to bring a little of the shine back in his eye as well as some of that anticipation from earlier in the night.

You see he dreams of this sometimes. The glitter of the chandeliers, the plinging of the piano and tapping of shoes as feet dance in a symphony of rhythm. Kurt can no more sit still when the music starts than he can stop his own heart beating. And what he absolutely can not do the moment someone says sing, is close his mouth and stupor the song that erupts from deep inside. Blaine used to say that music and Kurt were synonyms.

And with that thought just like that Kurt is back in a tiny auditorium with the house lights dimmed, sashaying his way across the stage, his eyes on Blaine where he sits on a piano bench watching Kurt with fever in his eyes.

And Kurt knows exactly what song he needs to sing.

**********************************
Kurt walks onto the stage with confidence despite Santana’s pointed smirk and her whispers that this at least should be hilarious. He won’t let her spoil this for him. He hadn’t realized so much time had passed since he’d last performed. It was never something Kurt had decided not to do. At least not in so many words.

After college he’d accepted the fact that big dreams of Broadway and all that were unrealistic, that it was a goal simply out of reach, but it wasn’t like he’d decided never to sing again. So why hasn’t he? Why didn’t he? When he was sitting there temping in that office, going crazy inside his own head, why didn’t he sing? When he’d been so turned inside out that he was desperate for any sort of recognition, to do anything that was different from his monotonous routine, why didn’t he sing?

He hears Blaine’s voice again, from the other day, asking him the same question.

“You’d be stellar at it.”

Kurt wants to sing now, needs to sing now, and as he faces the audience and waits for the first notes he searches the crowd for a face he knows will not be there and wishes. Kurt closes his eyes and the room melts away. He’s back in a dark auditorium, his only audience a boy perched on a piano bench.

Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell
Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high
Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder
The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky
The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

Blaine slapped his jean clad thigh along to the beat with a bright smile, nodding encouragingly as Kurt got a feel for the music. It wasn’t the sort of song Kurt was usually into but Blaine was convinced that not only would it suit Kurt’s voice, that it would also be a great audition piece. Kurt wasn’t even sure if he had time for community theater what with his temping job and he felt ridiculous standing up on the stage all by himself with no music and no costume; but he kept his eyes on Blaine and his obvious enthusiasm helped Kurt’s nerves melt away.

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet if you please

Kurt closed his eyes, feeling the music flow through his blood, pounding in his heart and flowing down into his hips as he swayed back and forth to the sultry beat of it. His skin felt hot like a living thing and too constricted by his clothing. He felt like an animal trying to writhe out of its own skin, a butterfly eating its way out a cocoon. He raised his arms, hips stirring up a breeze, his hands reaching to grasp it as he followed the beat. He loved the slow delicious heat of it, the power behind the words he sang. He opened his eyes and found Blaine’s. That beautiful bright hazel loved it too.

Up in Memphis the music's like a heatwave
White lightening, bound to drive you wild
Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl

Their gaze went unbroken as Kurt moved towards Blaine, danced for him, sang for him and as he reached the bench something inside him seemed to shake.

That spring when the clock had chimed six-six long hours, six long days, nearly six long months. He’d known the truth. What he knew now as he repeated the performance was that years might have past but nothing had really changed. Not that.

"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle
The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

Kurt danced away from Blaine with his heart racing in his chest and a fine tremble going through his limbs.

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet if you please

But he looked back. Kurt couldn’t help but always look back. Blaine watched him, eyes dark with a need that was frankly terrifying. Kurt felt itchy, restless, hot and then cold all over, suffocating in his own skin. He thought of the peace of release and the simpleness of sweaty limbs entwining together and felt hunger. He thought of the mindlessness of fucking a stranger without a face. And then he looked back at Blaine whose face he sees whether his eyes are open or closed, whether there is light or dark, and Kurt knew that his heart was going to break.

It happend quietly, without any fuss, without any screaming or tears. It had split like bread and lay there until the snow came to bury it.

Kurt stands center stage just as he did over two years ago, his eyes fixed on the unattainable; an arm outstretched, his hand reaching as if he can grab what he so desperately wants and hold it to him.

Every word of every song that he sang was for you
In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon,
what could you do?

**********************************

Kurt barely hears the applause, or Santana’s snide comments that he was apparently pretty talented for a whore, and he laughs at her warning to stay away from her man. She can’t know how little he cares just then. As Kurt walks away from the stage he ignores her and he ignores Josh and all the other people wanting his attention.

It is a bit ironic considering this is what Kurt has always wanted, what he realized he craved so recklessly when he quit his job and started this life. But just then he doesn’t care, not about Josh, not about Yusef, and certainly not the damn party anymore; no matter how much it glitters. Tonight he just wants to go home. Hopefully he’ll feel better in the morning and all of this will be gone.

Then Kurt remembers Yusef and just as quickly he knows that if he has to sit there the rest of the night with that asshole petting him and talking dirty in his ear and then go home and fuck him he’ll snap. Kurt honestly questions whether in the heat of rage he’d be above strangling him but he’d rather avoid the issue altogether. It’s time for escape, not easily done when someone has already paid you for an entire evening and your boss will kill you if you don’t deliver, but luckily Kurt is nothing if not crafty.

He spots one of the waiters smiling at him appreciatively and thinks it’s time for a little flirting.

After he cohorts with the waiter (and takes off that god awful cock ring) he heads back to Yusef acting like he’s been searching for him the entire time and not actively avoiding him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard later,” Yusef tells Kurt as he stares straight ahead, watching as the people talking and drinking deplete and the people fucking in the play room increase. “I’m going to reward you for making all these men want you, you naughty little boy. In my spare time I run marathons, you know what that means?”

‘You’re sweaty, exhausting and take hours to complete’ Kurt thinks glumly, but obviously it’s something he can never say. He tries to simper through his gritted teeth. “What does that mean?”

“Stamina.” Yusef informs him with pride. “I can go all night if I want to.” Kurt looks to the ceiling and prays to a god he doesn’t believe in.

He’s about to scream in irritation when he finally spots his trusted waiter approaching, the light at the end of what has become a very dark tunnel.

“Excuse me, Porcelain Ward?” he asks just like they’d rehearsed.

“Yes?”

“We’ve a call for you on our emergency hotline.” It’s amazing what a little fellatio can get a guy.

“Thanks for this” Kurt says to the waiter as he hides Kurt in the kitchen while he takes his ‘emergency phone call’.

“Dude you’re welcome, you’ve more than repaid me.” The waiter says with a smug smile. Kurt eyes his oiled arms and what he can see of his chest through his open vest appreciatively. He wonders what his name is. He’s just thinking the guys mohawk is strange for such a high end wait staff when Mohawk asks “Can I have your number?”

“I don’t really date honey,” Kurt tells him apologetically, which isn’t a lie. What’s with his clients wanting to date him all of a sudden?

“Oh I know,” the guy reassures. “Cause you’re totally a hooker. Dude I can tell, you have some serious skills, like Jedi of sex skills. I want the number for your agency.”

“I don’t think you could afford us.” Kurt sounds snippy he knows, but he’s unsure whether the stream of nonsense coming out of this guys mouth offends him or just baffles him but he’s leaning on the offends side. Yeah he has no real reason to be angry that this guy pegs him as a hooker just by the way he’s willing to blow him without knowing his name first, but tonight seems to be the night for being angry over shit that he’s previously been comfortable with.

“I’m not just a waiter you know!” Mohawk says with mock offence. “I’m just doing this to put myself through drama school. All this work and actually having to do classes and shit really throws off a guys mojo. It’s like my brain has to use so much energy to think, it like forgot how to be a sex god. I used to be a total sex god in highschool.”

“Uh-huh...” Kurt’s beginning to think this guy is mentally challenged.

“You went to some sort of hooker school right? They probably know tons of things about sex the rest of us have only dreamed of.”

“Well we do, but you do know there’s no such thing as hooker school? There isn’t any sort of degree you get for learning how to have an orgasm when you’re not the slightest bit turned on.” Though there really should be, especially for guys because it’s extremely difficult. Girls have it so easy. The guys face falls so slack Kurt actually thinks for a moment his brain has shut down.

“That’s so hot. You’re like Luke Sexmaster or something.”

“Okay. Well in that case here you go!” Kurt scribbles Cheerios number on a napkin just to stop the guy putting sex and Star Wars in the same category ever again. He thinks enough time has passed to convince Yusef he really did take a phone call. “So you’re an actor. How’s this face?” Kurt asks Mohawk as he frowns slightly.

“That look says you just failed a chem test. Really good.”

“How about this?” Kurt frowns a little more and pulls his best kicked puppy face.

Mohawk shakes his head. “Dude too much; do what you were doing before. You look like you just found out your best friend screwed your girlfriend and got her pregnant. I’d know that look anywhere.” Kurt stares at him in utter confusion.

“I will... bear that in mind. Mr....”

“Oh it’s Noah, Noah Puckerman. Everyone just calls me Puck.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Puck. This has been sufficiently awkward.”

As he heads back to Yusef, Kurt thinks to himself that it’s a shame such a good looking guy obviously got dropped on his head as a baby. As for the matter at hand. You may think that because Kurt is an escort that no matter how he’s feeling, or when he does or doesn’t want it, that he’s forced to lay down and take it. You’re mostly right but you’re also a little bit wrong. No matter what your profession there is one line that will get you out of anything, plus people won’t ask too many questions.

“Personal reasons?” Yusef reiterates after Kurt tells him the bad news.

“I’m afraid so,” Kurt nods with his best sad face. “So I’m going to have to leave. Obviously you’ll be fully reimbursed.”

“That’s hardly the point Porcelain.” Yusef’s tries not to show his annoyance and fails miserably. Unlike Kurt he has no reason to mask his emotions. “This is most unsatisfactory.”

“Again, I’m really sorry.” Kurt says solemnly before turning on his heels and walking out to the reception area. He collects his phone and gets out of the party as fast as he possibly can, unable to stop himself from breaking out into a huge grin.

He feels like he’s being naughty, like he’s skipping school to watch project runway, or recover from a hangover. Kurt calls for a cab and breathes a sigh of relief that this horrendous night is almost over. He turns his mind to Cheerios, and prepares to call in and let them know he’s bailed on the appointment. They need to know for both safety and business reasons. He needs to think of some personal calamity that will appease Sue enough that she won’t actually string him up by his balls as she has threatened to do on more than one occasion.

As he turns on his phone Kurt notices that he has seven voicemails, seven. Seeing as Sue doesn’t know he’s ditching his client yet there is no reason for them to be work related and as Kurt realizes this his heart leaps into his throat. His brain supplies at least a hundred tragic scenarios involving friends and family that could have happened while he was out of reach at that damned fiasco of a party.

“Oh my god” he sighs as he listens to the messages; four from Blaine, one from Kurt’s Dad wondering why Blaine has called him twice looking for Kurt, one from Tyler ( Blaine’s sister Regina’s husband) and two more from Blaine. “I don’t believe this.”

*************************

“Kurt, where the hell have you been?” Blaine asks as Kurt drags himself out of the taxi, handing the driver a twenty and not bothering to wait for any change. “I’ve been ringing you for hours! I even tried calling your dad. And what are you wearing?”

Kurt grits his teeth as he walks quickly with Blaine towards Regina and Tyler’s house. On top of an already horrible night he now has to deal with the guilt that a close friend of his has gone into a particularly difficult labor, and that her brother who just happens to be Kurt’s best friend in the world has had to deal with possibly losing both baby and mother all by himself while Kurt has been unreachable because of the likes of Yusef. This has been the worst night of his life and guilt is only making it worse.

“I’m sorry. I really am, but can we just not right now.”

“Sure Kurt.” Blaine agrees with all sorts of bite in his voice as he jerks open the front door. “We can just not talk about this too. It can be one more thing we never talk about.” Kurt stops in his tracks.

“Look! I get it. I’m an asshole. I fail! I failed you! I fail you all the damn time. I fail. I fail. I fail. I got the message loud and clear. Six of them Blaine, while I was sitting on the train for two and a half hours wanting to be here! I had to wait twenty five minutes for a taxi from the station, and it’s pouring outside while I’m wearing Armani. I’ve had a night like you wouldn’t believe and I’m a jerk and you hate me I get it, but could you just back off for one second?!”

“Back off?” Blaine practically hisses and Kurt has never seen him like this. Even when he caught Kurt screwing another man he was more composed than he is now and that just makes everything worse because Kurt knows he should have been here. Kurt wants to reach out and smooth his hair as it’s sticking up everywhere like Blaine’s been digging his hands through it. He wants to rub his shoulders, or just hold them so that Blaine will stop twitching like he’s being bitten by fire ants, or so that maybe both of them can breathe and avoid saying things they don’t mean.

“I’m sorry Kurt, I didn’t realize I was supposed to be giving you space right now when it’s my sister who could have died tonight.”

He’s right, Kurt knows he is. He has no right to be angry with Blaine right now when he’s the one with secrets and a double life that keeps him from being there when his friends need him the most. But all of that is so much easier to shift through and accept when you’re dry and sober the morning after and not when you’re cold and wet and already wrecked inside standing in the middle of it.

“Do not yell at me okay! I’m sorry I didn’t get here in enough time to hold your hand Blaine but I didn’t think that was my job anymore. Why isn’t Jeremiah here?” The words once they are out seem to echo in both their heads and Kurt winces. He knows a mistake when he hears it.

He wants to take it back instantly, because what kind of a person is he really when his best friend has been through a shock and all he can do is poke at the wound? But it seems to be a night for uncontrolled emotions because that anger that has been building in him all night is overflowing; and even as it horrifies him that it should be Blaine who it pours on, he can’t seem to stop it either.

“Jeremiah had to work Kurt that’s-.”

“Bullshit! I was working Blaine, but that didn’t stop you from leaving six messages on my phone. You know my work schedule is nuts. You know I don’t always answer my phone and you still called. You’re angry because it’s me you wanted here, and me who just spent hours getting here and not the person it should have been.”

“Do not Kurt. Do not turn this around on me. You’re my best friend! Of course I wanted you here.”

“And I’m here. I don’t see your boyfriend here. I don’t see Rachel, Mercedes or any of our other friends here, just me! I think before you yell at me you should figure out just what the hell it is you want from me!” Kurt shouts and Blaine looks thunderous for a moment. He opens his mouth as if he might say something more and lets out a frustrated noise that isn’t actually words. Then he sighs and the anger and frustration on his face bleeds away until he just looks exhausted.

“I know I don’t want to fight with you Kurt. I know I want you to be here with me.” He says softly and there isn’t going to be a time when the way those hazel eyes can plead won’t pull at Kurt. He sighs and steps close, giving in to that impulse to fix Blaine’s hair.

“No, no stop that. I’m sorry. I had a shit night and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m so sorry, Blaine. I know how hard this must have been.” Kurt tucks a loose curl behind Blaine’s ear, holding his head and drawing it up until their gazes meet. “But Regina wanted to have the baby at home remember? We knew it was going to be difficult, and yeah it’s been more difficult than everyone expected but the point is she’s okay Blaine. Both she and the baby are okay and she needs her family to keep it together right now.”

“An at home birth without any pain relief, only Regina” Blaine murmers with the first hint of a smile Kurt has seen and there’s a moment that stretches painfully where all he wants to do is lean forward and kiss him. Thankfully someone arrives before he can be that incredibly stupid.

“There you two are. Is there a reason you’re standing in the doorway letting the rain in?” They both jump apart at the sound of Blaine’s mothers voice. Kurt’s face splits into a smile. It’s there where he stands soaking wet in ruined Armani that Kurt fully understands how much of his life he’s been letting slip away working so much. As Elaine Anderson sweeps him up into a hug and reaches up to pecker his cheeks with two firm kisses Kurt feels the hazy warmth that only comes with being at peace and at home.

You may or may not have attended college far from home but if you have you remember the long weekends and holidays that were too short to spend money on expensive flights home, and too important to spend wasted in a dorm room. Those are the days Kurt spent right here in Dobbs Ferry, New York with the Anderson’s.

“I’m so glad you could make it Kurt,” she says giving Kurt one last squeeze before ushering them fully inside. “What kept you?” She asks.

“I was at an office party” Kurt explains taking her arm as she leads them down the hall. “I had my phone off or I would have been here sooner. I’m sorry. How are you holding up?”

“Fine, now that the danger is past. And you shouldn’t apologize, no one could have predicted Regina would go into early labor.”

“She would find a way to prevent me from getting her one of those fabulously glittery cards. I promised her I’d find one with pink ponies that screamed it’s a boy when you open it up. They have to have one somewhere.” Mrs. Anderson throws back her head and laughs and beside them Kurt sees Blaine smile and shoot him a grateful look.

“I’m the better brother clearly since I had time to get her one,” he says with a teasing smile and Kurt stares down his nose at him.

“You’re the little brother she got stuck with. I’m the one she chose. She told me so. That obligates you to let me sign your card.” There’s more laughter as they climb the stairs to Regina and Tyler’s bedroom to find Regina sat in bed, Tyler by her side and Blaine’s father sitting proudly on a chair brought up from the dining room. Regina’s cradling an unmistakeable bundle in her arms looking every bit the doting mother, if somewhat sick looking. Her hair is plastered to her head with sweat and she is very pale but Kurt doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

“Hey,” he whispers as he enters the room, Blaine and his mother not far behind him.

“Jesus! Kurt?” Tyler gasps with wide eyes as he takes in Kurt’s appearance.

“You know it’s pretty rude to look so gorgeous when I look like crap Kurt.” Regina says, laughing weakly but happily as Kurt approaches the bed.

“You just had a baby for Christ's sake. No one expects you to look anything other than shit for days,” he responds softly as he kisses her cheek before shaking Tyler’s hand.

“That’s true,” Regina smiles tiredly, she looks behind Kurt and spots Blaine. “But between you and Tyler I better hear how much I look like a goddess daily or I promise you one of you will die. And since I’d like my son to have a father I kind of need him around. So that means you Blaine will die.”

Kurt is laughing as he moves so Mrs. Anderson and Blaine can go back to admiring the baby and sits down on an empty seat next to Mr. Anderson. “Hey Grandpa. Are you sure you’re ready for this, adding to the motley crew I mean?”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice.” Blaine’s father replies, rubbing his ashy blond head. “First Blaine kept bringing his friends home like stray puppies, and I told Elaine if she fed them they would just keep coming back. But did she listen?” Kurt grins at the old joke.

“Nope. And here we are today. I’ve got my very own corner to sleep in and no one can stop me stealing your shoes.” Blaine’s father snickers.

“And now I’ve got a grandson when I specifically told that girl that she could grow up and start having babies when we’re both dead.”

“Not so much to ask.” Kurt commiserates fighting a smile. He truly has missed this.

“I want those brown shoes back by the way. Blaine wouldn’t have borrowed them so I know it had to be you. They were a gift from Lainy and she’d kill me if she thought I’d lost them.”

“You mean the pair of Giorgio Baccini’s?” Kurt asks and when Mitchell nods (a tad uncertainly) he full out grins “I have no idea what you’re talking about sir.”

By the time everyone has finished gushing over Regina and the baby it’s almost three in the morning and Blaine and Kurt are both absolutely exhausted (so you can only imagine how tired Regina is). Mr. Anderson drives them all (minus the new mother and father) back to the family house on the other side of town so that Blaine and Kurt can get some rest before heading back to New York City in the morning.

“Is it just me or were you far too dressed up just for a party at work?” Blaine asks as Kurt emerges from the bathroom across from Blaine’s childhood bedroom and stands in the doorway wearing a pair of Blaine’s old sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“I take every opportunity to look as fabulous as I can.” Kurt answers somewhat defensively as he crawls into bed next to him. Blaine shifts over to give him more room and Kurt is struck by just how much he appreciates Blaine’s presence, knowing that he’s going to fall asleep next to him without sex being a factor. Sometimes he just needs to be near someone, not just physically.

“I forgot. Heaven forbid Kurt Hummel not be the best dressed at a party.” Blaine retorts playfully, nudging Kurt with his elbow.

“Says our resident hipster,” Kurt replies as he sticks a finger between Blaine’s ribs and smirks as Blaine yelps and writhes away from the offending touch. This predictably ends in a tickle fight, and Kurt can’t believe he’s twenty six years old having tickle fights with his best friend in his childhood bed. The crazy thing is how good it feels, how it makes the horrible night he had seem distant and inconsequential.

“You know, I didn’t think I’d get to say this again after you turned twenty but if you can’t keep it down son, I’m afraid I’ll have to drive your friend home.” Blaine and Kurt sit up, their laughter as well as their fight cut short, to find Mr. Anderson leaning against the doorway watching them with amusement and an indescribable something else on his face.

“You know what, I’ll be the bigger man. You win Kurt, because I totally have to pee.” Blaine says as he gets up from the bed still grinning. “But I will point out that your fingers are like sticks though so you’ve got an unfair advantage. Just saying.” Kurt snickers as Blaine heads to the bathroom and Mitchell closes the door behind him.

When Blaine comes back Kurt is drifting somewhere close to sleep. He thinks he feels Blaine slip into bed beside him and pull the covers up so that they’re both completely covered. Around the time he thinks he might feel Blaine’s back press against his, just before falling into dreams, he has his last thought. He’s so glad he ditched work tonight and went home.

TBC