Dinner is supposed to be a surprise for Blaine, and Kurt’s bringing home one of Blaine’s favorite desserts, as well as making a simple, quick pasta dish to go with it. He knows there’s a loaf of French bread on the counter and garlic butter in the fridge. He can whip something fantastic up for the both of them in no time at all. Maybe Blaine will even let him use his espresso machine to make them those delicious little drinks with chocolate sauce and orange peels. Blaine’s been working so very hard for school, not to mention keeping up his hours at Starbucks, and Kurt wants to give him as much of a night off as possible. Kurt can see the stress gathering in the line of Blaine’s shoulders and drawing tight in the curve of his back. He knows dinner won’t solve anything, but he hopes it might let Blaine relax a little, help him take a deep breath.

Blaine’s classes have started up again after the winter holiday and he’s thrown himself headfirst into his assignments with a passion and intensity that makes Kurt vibrate with pride and affection. It’s so clear to Kurt, to anyone, that Blaine loves this – loves writing and composing – and that he’s incredibly brilliant at it. Kurt has every belief in the world that Blaine will make something huge and wonderful of his life, and he can’t wait to be a tiny little piece of it.

Sometimes Kurt sits on the floor of Blaine’s living room, with his own sketchpad propped on his lap, and just watches as Blaine scratches out notes and chords on sheet music, or maps out scenes and dialogue in an old worn notebook. Blaine seems to handwrite everything and Kurt loves the neat and tidy line of his script. His eyebrows draw adorably together in concentration and he tends to hum when he writes, tapping out the rhythms curling through his brain and down his arm to his fingers.

But Kurt wants to take Blaine’s mind off of school and his future and everything else, only if for a night. They’ll eat, they’ll talk (about things other than work and class), and maybe they’ll even catch up on some of the TV shows they’re getting behind on. Kurt brought his DVR over from his own apartment because he’s been spending most of his evenings at Blaine’s anyway. They’ll curl up together on the sofa, with Blaine pulled snug and comfortable between Kurt’s thighs, back warm against his chest. Kurt will stroke his hands across the thick, tight muscles of Blaine’s shoulders and down his arms as he presses light kisses to Blaine’s neck and his ears, until the tension melts away and Blaine finally relaxes against him.

And then, later, he’ll get Blaine into bed and help him relax in other ways.

Kurt balances the box of pastries in one hand as he unlocks the front door. He slings his bag into the waiting chair and toes his wet boots off and manages to get them onto the boot rack with just one hand. He’s just gotten his heavy pea coat hung up by the door when slight movement from the living room catches his eye; Blaine isn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour. Kurt freezes and almost drops the box of cannoli on the floor.

There is a man sleeping on Blaine’s couch. He is tall - taking up the entire length of the couch - and he is naked save for a pair of snug black boxer-briefs.

He’s met a number of Blaine’s friends already - the coworkers he’s close with, the classmates he’s known since freshman year at NYU - but Kurt does not recognize this man, at least not by his naked torso or his thick, dark hair. He’s certainly not any of Blaine’s fellow Starbucks employees, because they all went out to a tiny little tucked-away karaoke bar in Greenwich the other week, and this man was not crammed into the velvet booth with them, nor was he crooning bad 80s rock ballads while sipping a whiskey sour. And if this is a robbery he’s just interrupted, it’s the least effective one he’s ever heard of.

Kurt is about to back out of the apartment, or reach into his pocket to call 911, or Blaine, when the man shifts on the couch - his smooth, tanned skin stretching across incredibly toned musculature - and turns his head towards Kurt. Kurt gasps aloud then, because he abruptly recognizes this man in Blaine’s apartment. He knows him.

He knows this face from TV and from movies. He knows that jaw line and those cheekbones from print ads and men’s fashion spreads.

Somehow, for some reason, Cooper Anderson - two-time Golden Globe winner and Oscar nominee - Cooper fucking Anderson is asleep on his boyfriend’s couch. In his underwear. Kurt grips the box of pastries so tightly the cardboard dents and crumples under the pressure. He’s unsure if he should be calling the police or not.

There’s something about the sweep of the man’s dark hair across his forehead, or maybe it’s the line of his nose, that makes Kurt’s breath catch in his throat. Because suddenly he knows this (exceptionally handsome) face from somewhere else too.

He glances across the living room at the picture of Blaine and his brother that hangs on the wall. It’s an older photo, taken at Blaine’s high school graduation. Blaine’s hair was shorter then, and styled down almost flat to his head with pomade, while his brother’s hair was much longer, a shaggy mess of dark brown hair falling around his laughing face. In the photo, they have their arms around each other’s shoulders, and Blaine is tucked up small into his brother’s side as his brother tugs on the tassel of his graduation cap.

Kurt glances frantically back and forth between the sleeping man and the previously innocuous photo on the wall as the comprehension blooms hot and embarrassingly obvious in his stomach. Blaine talks about his brother often, but only obliquely, and Kurt’s fairly certain he can count the number of times Blaine has said his brother’s name on one hand. It’s almost always “my brother.” And there are certainly a lot of Andersons in the world, even if there aren’t nearly as many Coopers.

But now, the other face in the photo, Blaine’s brother, is startlingly, unmistakably, the same face as the man asleep before him. Kurt doesn’t know why, or how, he never made the connection when he’s been staring at this face all these months.

And suddenly, like a flash of lightning across a crackling sky, it all makes sense: Blaine’s reticence to talk about his brother; the expensive gifts that Blaine is so very bashful over; the phone calls at 2:00am that pull Blaine from bed with a whispered, “go back to sleep, it’s just my brother.”

Blaine’s brother is famous - really, really famous. Small, shy, notice-me-not Blaine has a brother who is loud and bold as brass, whose face is on billboards and movie posters all over the world, and who can hardly go out in public without getting his picture taken. Kurt feels pieces of Blaine’s personality - his timidity, the way he curls in on himself to seem even smaller - locking into place.

“Are you gonna share those, or just crush them to death?”

The voice startles Kurt so badly he almost drops the box again. Cooper is awake and staring at him with a cocked, teasing eyebrow.

“You must be Kurt,” Cooper says with a bright smile that belies the absolute oddity of the situation as he rises from the couch.

“I am,” Kurt replies, because what else can he say? It’s not every day a celebrity introduces himself to him (although he did meet Vera Wang the other week in the halls of Vogue and almost tripped over his own feet).

“I’m Cooper,” he extends his hand out for Kurt to shake. “I’m Blaine’s big brother.” Not the actor, not the award winner, not the philanthropist, but just Blaine’s brother.

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing here? Blaine didn’t say anything to me about you being here.” Blaine hadn’t even said anything about Cooper being in town, let alone camping out on his couch. Kurt is comfortable enough in their relationship now that he’s sure Blaine would tell him if someone was going to be staying at his apartment.

Cooper just smiles, and his teeth are extremely white. “Blaine has a habit of neglecting to mention me to his friends and loved ones.” The quirk of his eyebrow lets Kurt know exactly which one of those two options he is. “So you’re the man my baby brother is ass over teakettle for, huh?”

Kurt blushes. He’s usually so quick with witty responses and retorts, but right now his tongue feels heavy and useless in his mouth. He doesn’t want to admit he’s a little star-struck, but he is. Cooper is staring at him with far, far too much knowledge in those bright blue eyes, the color so unlike Blaine’s, and Kurt’s night is not turning out at all like he planned.

“I’ve got dinner to make,” is what he says, because he can’t think of anything else. “If you’re going to be here you might as well make yourself useful.”

***

Blaine has a couple of old, worn Starbucks aprons that he’s appropriated from the store over the years that he uses when he’s cooking. It’s how Kurt and Cooper end up in Blaine’s kitchen wearing matching green aprons while the oven preheats, a saucepan simmers, and a huge pot of water comes to boil. Cooper is still just in his underwear and Kurt tries not to stare when his nipples peek out from the sides. Kurt is madly, unequivocally, down-to-his-bones in love with Blaine, but Cooper is, well he’s Cooper.

“So, Kurt,” Cooper begins after a few minutes of surprisingly easy silence. Cooper has a strong presence in Blaine’s tiny kitchen, but Kurt finds him oddly comfortable to be around. Kurt knows Cooper is a ridiculously famous actor, he knows this – he’s seen Cooper in movies and accepting awards, modeling designer suits in GQ and jogging through the hills of LA in paparazzi photos. But in person, standing next to him while he chops garlic bulbs, he’s just another guy. He’s just Blaine’s brother.

“Blaine tells me you’re going to be running Vogue in twenty years.”

Kurt’s hand almost slips as he’s chopping an onion to add to the sauce. It would certainly put a dent in his career plans if he sliced off his finger now.

“He said that?”

“He talks about you endlessly.” Cooper leans past him to throw the garlic into the pan. “He has since September.”

“Oh,” Kurt can’t help the pleased smile that curves his mouth. He’s always wondered if Blaine talks to people about him half as much as he talks to his friends and family, and his boss, about Blaine. It means more than he can say to know that Blaine is just as smitten, just as besotted with him as he is with Blaine. It’s one thing to hear the whispered I love yous against his lips in the dark of the night, or into his throat in the hazy light of the morning when Blaine is sliding from bed to get to work. It’s another to hear the truth of it from someone else.

“I told him that if you’re half the man he makes you out to be, it’ll be fifteen years before you’re running the joint. Tops.” Cooper knocks against his shoulder with his own bare one and Kurt laughs.

“Well, I think I’d have to get past my boss first. Carrie’s quite the woman, and I’m pretty sure she’s next in line for the throne.” The oven beeps that it’s preheated, and Kurt grabs the tray of garlic-buttered bread. Cooper has to shuffle out of the way in order for Kurt to open the oven door. His legs are bare beneath the apron and Kurt is not going to be responsible for giving an international star a burn mark.

“Besides,” Kurt continues. “As awesome as that would be, and as amazing at it as I would be, the longer I work there, the more I think what I really, really want is to design my own line. That’s not to say that I couldn’t do both – maybe I can – but, right now, being a designer is what’s calling to me.” Kurt shrugs and slides past Cooper to stir the simmering pasta sauce. It’s easy to forget that Cooper is almost naked, until he has to brush up against him in Blaine’s cramped kitchen. Kurt tastes some of the sauce off a wooden spoon, and then adds a bit more basil. “And you know, I think I’m pretty good at it.”

“I know,” Cooper says, and there’s something in his voice that gives Kurt pause. “I saw your sketchbooks.”

“What?” Kurt’s voice rises high with indignation. Cooper is grinning at him a little, leaning against the counter with a languid grace, and it’s so close to the look Blaine gives him when he’s gone and surprised Kurt somehow that Kurt almost does a double take. “You went through my stuff?”

“Hardly.” Cooper opens up a box of pasta and sets it next to the pot of water with utter nonchalance, as though he hasn’t just admitted to violating Kurt’s personal space. “They were lying open on the table. I have to say, you’re kind of ridiculously talented. I think you should make me a suit.”

“I – what?” Kurt asks again, because it’s all his brain can come up with.

“A suit. Or a tux. I’ve got a little thing I’m going to at the end of February.” Cooper opens up the cupboards above the counter, finds a jar of artichoke hearts, and adds them to the sauce. Kurt is too flabbergasted to chastise him for messing with his dinner. “Is that enough time? I’d love for you to make me one. You have pages and pages of them, and they’re all incredible designs. But you’re going to have to adjust the proportions for me I think. I’m a bit taller, and I don’t have the curly hair that Blaine does. Although that second part shouldn’t affect anything.” Cooper winks at him then, he fucking winks, and Kurt is pretty sure that he’ll never be able to watch another of his movies again.

Kurt flushes a deep, ugly red. Since Blaine, his sketches have taken on a particular shape – a little shorter than the average model, with more muscular thighs, a darker skin tone, and a decidedly pronounced head of riotous, curly hair.

“I would pay you, of course.” Cooper continues with a flippant gesture of his hand. “Whatever the going-rate for future world-famous designers is.”

Kurt splutters. “No, I couldn’t. You are, well you’re you. And I’m a nobody. Literally. I mean, I won’t always be, but I am now. You can’t show up anywhere in a nobody-suit.”

Cooper sets down the box of pasta he was about to dump into the boiling water and places both of his hands on Kurt’s shoulders. His eyes are so very bright and intense and his grip is firm. “You are not a nobody,” he says, and his voice is deep with sincerity. “You are Kurt Hummel. You are twenty-two and you are Carrie Bradshaw’s assistant at Vogue. People have already heard of you. They already know you.”

Kurt swallows and shivers all the way down to his toes. For all his confidence and belief in himself and his talent, he still worries. How can he not? He worries that he won’t make it, that talent and hard work won’t be enough. Sometimes he lies awake late at night, with Blaine breathing slow and steady next to him, and wonders if he could be satisfied as Assistant to the Fashion Editor at Vogue. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be.

But making Cooper Anderson a suit for some event, that could be the start of something huge for him, something life altering. Because he knows, he just knows that Cooper would talk him up at the event, that he would say Kurt’s name over and over again and praise him to high heaven. Maybe a little buzz or interest in Kurt’s future work would be drummed up. It’s a chance; it’s an opportunity that he would be the world’s biggest fool to pass up.

“You wouldn’t have to pay me,” Kurt says finally, and he rolls his eyes at the exaggerated frown on Cooper’s face.

“Of course I would.” Cooper lets go of his shoulder and steps back, and finally throws the dry pasta into the rapidly boiling water. The kitchen smells richly of tomatoes and garlic and seasoning.

“Cooper,” Kurt pauses. What he wants to say is you’re family, and family does things for each other, but it’s been five (wonderful, incredible, life-changing) months, but he’s not sure he wants Cooper to know that part of his heart yet. Not before he’s talked to Blaine about their future – the future that is so clear and obvious to him already.

“You don’t have to pay me,” he finishes. “I want to do this for you.” And he does. He can picture Cooper so clearly in one of his designs and he thrills to his toes with the thought that it will actually happen. His heart is fluttering and his fingers itch to get a hold of some needle and thread.

Cooper’s face lights up in a huge grin and he gathers Kurt up in a massive hug. Kurt squeaks and he’s lifted up off his feet by Cooper’s strong arms. “I knew you’d say yes.”

“You did not,” Kurt protests, but Cooper’s already setting him down and turning back to the dinner that’s cooking away on the stove and in the oven. It’s homey and domestic and Kurt kind of loves it. He thinks Cooper might turn out to be the brother-figure he never had.

“So when are you two getting a bigger place?” Cooper asks as he opens the oven to check on the bread again. It’s the only loaf there is, and it won’t do to burn it. He has to stand to the side or else he’d open the door right onto his legs. The scent of butter and garlic and bread floods the kitchen even more.

“What?” Kurt samples the sauce again, just to be sure it’s perfect, and he smiles at the sweet and tangy taste of it. Blaine is going to love this, once he gets past the shock and surprise of Cooper being in his apartment.

“I know this has been Blaine’s place since he moved out here, and it’s suited him just fine all these years, but come on. There can’t be room enough for the both of you.” Cooper gestures around the tiny space. “This isn’t even a one-butt kitchen, let alone a two-butt. And let’s be perfectly honest, Blaine’s not lacking in the ass-department, if you know what I mean.”

“I – we,” Kurt can’t seem to stop getting caught off guard by Cooper. But it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. He has. He’s thought about getting rid of his own place, even though he has another four months on his sub-lease, and convincing Blaine to do the same. With their combined incomes, and a bit of searching, he’s certain they could find a one-bedroom somewhere between where they both work, and where Blaine still goes to school. He’s thought about the shared closet, and both of their books stacked together on the shelves. He’s thought of the photos on the walls and their towels hanging next to each other’s in the bathroom. Kurt’s thought about how the bed would be theirs, and so would everything else.

“Do you two need money for a deposit on a new place or something? I can help. You should let me help. Blaine never lets me help him when it comes to money.” Cooper pouts a little, and it would look absolutely ridiculous, except he actually does look unhappy about it.

“Oh, well, we, it’s only been-” Kurt doesn’t really want to say that it’s too soon, because it doesn’t feel like it is. Not to him.

“You know you’re forever for him, right?” Cooper looks up and captures Kurt’s gaze. “You’re it.”

Kurt flushes to his ears, because he’s thought about that too - thought about forever with Blaine. And it’s not scary or frightening or overwhelming. It just feels right.

“No, Cooper.” Kurt shakes his head. “I couldn’t. We couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh come on!” Cooper bounces on his toes and claps his hands together in excitement. “We don’t have to tell him. We’ll come up with a story about how we found the place super cheap because someone died in it or something. Be my co-conspirator!”

“You – you’ve already done so much for Blaine. I – we can’t ask for more.” Blaine hasn’t told him everything about his and Cooper’s childhood, but he’s told Kurt enough.

“It’s not asking if I’m offering.” Cooper uses the spaghetti server to pull a few noodles from the salted, boiling water to test them.

“You’re already having me make you a suit, which is beyond incredible, and I’m never going to stop thanking you for that.” Kurt shakes his head and twists the hem of the apron in his hands. “But I can’t – I can’t take more from you.”

“Fucking hell, you’re worse than Blaine, aren’t you?” Cooper tosses the server down onto the counter. “Why can’t either one of you just accept help? I have the means neither of you have. I’ve got more than anyone should have. Why won’t you let me help? This isn’t a fucking handout, all right? It’s not like I’m throwing money around. I’m not. He’s my brother, Kurt. My brother. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him. But he’s got more pride than Darcy.” Cooper stops and runs his hands through his hair. Kurt tries to swallow down the tight lump in his throat. He knows now why Cooper has won the awards and earned the accolades and critical praise that he has. The emotion in him is raw and powerful, and it crackles in the air around them.

“Blaine hasn’t had the easiest life. Our family is, well, it’s not the best. But we had each other, and we made do with what we had. But I ran, Kurt. I left him behind. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Leaving the person you love most in the world behind? For your own selfish purposes? But I had to. I had an opportunity and I had to take it. I would have regretted it every day of my life if I’d stayed, but-”

“You’ve been trying to make it up to him ever since.” The words are bitter on Kurt’s tongue, but they need to be said.

“There’s no way to.” Cooper’s face is drawn tight and his jaw is clenched. Kurt can see the old pain burning in his eyes and the muscle twitching in his cheek.

“He doesn’t hate you for leaving.” Kurt says cautiously. It’s something they’ve talked about a little, lying in bed together when Blaine is more open than he usually is. “You have to know that. He doesn't blame you for anything.”

There’s a long pause as Cooper takes a deep breath and folds his arms across his chest. Kurt’s heart is pounding; he’s overstepped his bounds. He’s sure of it.

“Is he forever for you?” Cooper fixes Kurt with a hard look and turns the conversation back to him. Kurt can feel his knees begin to shake and the sweat gathers on his palms. This must be how Blaine felt when he met Burt. Nervous. Scared shitless. Eager to prove his worth to the person who matters the most to the man he loves.

Kurt swallows again and when he closes his eyes briefly, he sees Blaine. He always does. Sweet, beautiful, talented Blaine who is completely and utterly his. Just the same way as Kurt is wholly Blaine’s.

“I, yes. Yes.” And the words taste like I do.

“So what are you waiting for?” Cooper throws his hands up. “Because you’re young? Because it hasn’t been that long? So what? When you know, you fucking know.”

“My dad, I think he knew,” Kurt leans heavily against the counter. “The moment he saw Blaine he knew that was it for me.” He thinks that maybe he knew too, from the moment he walked into that Starbucks.

“So let me help!” Cooper’s voice, broken and hurting, thunders through the small kitchen. “Let me help you both. I want to. It’s all I ever want. What is all this for if I can’t help him? And now you.”

Kurt licks his lips. He’s done things on his own for so long. He has his father, and his father is a better parent than anyone could ask for, but there are some things that are still beyond his means. And here is someone offering to help him, and Blaine, start their lives together off a little easier. Why should he turn that down? Some unreasonable sense of pride? Kurt knows the follies of pride.

“Ok,” he says, and it comes out almost a whisper. “We can talk about this.”

He’s back in Cooper’s arms almost before he finishes his sentence.

“Blaine is my family, and you’re Blaine’s, so now you’re my family too. It’s what we do for each other. Let me do this for you.” Cooper squeezes him tight and all Kurt can do is nod.

It’s how Blaine finds them moments later, standing together in his kitchen, in matching Starbucks aprons, with Cooper still just in his underwear.