wake-up-kid
June 10, 2012, 4:23 a.m.
Interruptions: Chapter 15
E - Words: 5,237 - Last Updated: Jun 10, 2012 Story: Complete - Chapters: 19/19 - Created: Feb 03, 2012 - Updated: Jun 10, 2012 138 0 0 0 0
Author's Notes: Saturday, June 14, 2031
With Bertie sound asleep on his lap and Tori softly snoring with her head on his arm, not quite reaching his shoulder, Kurt had nothing to do but think. The flight from New York to Ohio would last just a bit over an hour and Kurt knew he would spend the entire time contemplating his carryon and the manila envelop tucked inside, literally looming above him. How had it come to this and what would handing those papers to Blaine mean?
Monday, September 9, 2030
It was Brimley’s first day. Mere hours after the first group meeting, Kurt had summoned him and Brimley was now seated across from Kurt, patiently rehashing details from the production timeline to the transport used to import the silk. Forty-three minutes later, Kurt’s newest and most inane question yet was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Tiffany! I swear!”
“Forgive me. Tiffany wasn’t at her desk, so I just came on in,” Kurt would know that voice anywhere. A gelled head emerged from behind the door. “Hi there,” Blaine said with a smile. Then, noticing the suit in the room, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting.”
“Hey you,” Kurt grinned. “Not a problem. Blaine, this is Brimley. He’s producing the Legend Line and dealing with my insanity.”
“Welcome to my world, Brimley.” Blaine laughed, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” replied Brimley with a polite nod.
“I’ll be done shortly. Then dinner?” Kurt asked.
“Then dinner. I’ll just go bother the worker bees.”
“They’ll love that.” Kurt smiled.
“Good to meet you, Brimley,” Blaine offered again before exiting.
“And you.” Brimley turned his attention back to Kurt. “Was that the lucky Mr. Hummel?”
“Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected. “Yes.”
“He’s cute.”
“I know.”
“You’re cuter.” Brimley smiled.
“Umm…Thank you,” Kurt managed. “Well…so…what were we talking about?”
“The brand of thread we’re using for inseams, sir.”
Thursday, September 26, 2030
Brimley Johnston 9:43pm
Why are you still in your office?
The Boss 9:46pm
The same reason you are. Working.
Brimley Johnston 9:47pm
Clearly, I’m not doing my job.
The Boss 9:49pm
What do you mean? You’re doing a
wonderful job.
Brimley Johnston 9:50pm
If I were, you wouldn’t be here.
The Boss 9:53pm
I’m over anal
Brimley Johnston 9:54pm
Hmmm. I could help with that.
The Boss 9:54pm
Analyzing! Over analyzing. Fucking
autocorrect.
Brimley Johnston 9:55pm
The former is more interesting.
The Boss 10:17pm
Goodnight, Brimley.
Brimley Johnston 10:18pm
Goodnight, Mr. Hummel.
The Boss 10:19pm
Anderson-Hummel.
Brimley Johnston 10:23pm
Of course.
Friday, September 27, 2030
If only Kurt had had one less meeting, or spent one less minute being an anal retentive perfectionist, maybe he would not be standing in his office being made to feel decidedly uncomfortable under the gaze of Brimley’s green eyes.
“Kurt?”
“Yes, Brimley? I’m busy,” Kurt responded brusquely, pointedly avoiding eye contact.
“I’m sorry for last night,” Brimley whispered sincerely.
“Good,” Kurt finally commented. “It was inappropriate.”
“I know. It won’t happen again. Let me make it up to you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Brimley. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Really, Kurt. Let me take you to dinner.” Brimley offered.
“Brimley! What don’t you underst—“
“No, not like that,” Brimley tried to explain. “It would be purely professional. We can start over and you can ask all the nitpicky questions you’d like.”
“Fine, Brimley. Fine. We’ll have dinner.”
***
Blaine was moaning lightly and Kurt had just begun to inch Blaine’s shirt from his pants when Kurt’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
“Ugh, who would be trying to contact you so late?” Blaine asked.
“I don’t know,” Kurt said, slightly intrigued. Blaine, eyes still closed, reached out blindly for the coffee table. Finally grasping the phone, he passed it behind his head to Kurt. Phone in hand, Kurt stared at the new text message.
Brimley 10:34pm
Dinner? Monday after work. Purely
professional.
Kurt looked down at Blaine beneath him, sighed deeply, thumbed out his response, and tossed the phone lightly back onto the coffee table.
“Who was that?” Blaine asked.
“No one.” Kurt paused, “Just Tiffany letting me know I have a late meeting on Monday. Looks like I’ll have to miss dinner.”
…that had been the first lie.
The first few dinners had been purely professional…until dinner turned into dinner and drinks.
Tuesday, January 7, 2031
They sat in a corner booth. The lights were dim.
“So, how did you end up with Mr. Anderson?” Brimley asked.
“Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected.
“Naturally.”
“We met in high school.”
“Ahh, high school sweethearts. How charming.”
“Yes. He is very charming,”
“As are you.”
“Stop, Brimley.”
“No. You need to learn to take a compliment.” Brimley leaned forward. “I get it. You’ve been with the same guy basically all your life. Other men see you, and want you, but they’re too intimidated to approach you, and you’re too caught up in Prince Charming to notice them noticing. You’re not used to being pursued. It’s understandable but unacceptable.”
Kurt had known he should have ended it then. But, he enjoyed too much the feeling of being pursued…especially because he thought he would never get caught. So dinner and drinks quickly turned into just drinks and Kurt never noticed that Brimley was gaining on him.
Thursday, February 20, 2031
They were at the bar. Again. Brimley’s hand was on Kurt’s knee. Again.
“I like you.” Brimley let his hand drift up Kurt’s thigh.
“I know.” Kurt removed Brimley’s hand from his thigh.
“And you like the attention.” Brimley leaned in.
“And what if I do?” Kurt asked, lifting his chin.
“Liking the attention isn’t a problem, especially since I like giving it. But you should ask yourself why you’re here bathing in my attentions and not at home with your Prince Charming.”
In the months since Blaine had left, Kurt had searched his brain and heart for an answer. The one he settled on wasn’t pleasant but it was true: he had been stupid and selfish, seeking a little “innocent” excitement outside his daily routine. Kurt had convinced himself that what he had been doing wasn’t so wrong…wasn’t really cheating, because he had left his heart at home, so it was never in danger. But now Kurt knew he should have never left home.
Tuesday, March 18, 2031
He had been in Brimley’s apartment that night. He should have never gone.
Kurt had been fairly tipsy after their few drinks at the bar and had gotten into a cab with Brimley, thinking he’d be dropped off at the train station, pay his half, and Brimley would continue on his way. When they instead pulled up outside of Brimley’s apartment, Kurt had protested.
“Come on, Kurt. It’s no big deal. You need to sober up a bit before heading home anyway. Wouldn’t want Mr. Hummel to think you’ve been drinking on the job.”
“Mr. Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected with a huff, still not leaving the taxi.
“Seriously, Kurt. Just for a bit. I’ll put on some coffee and show you some secret sketches I stole from the Dior vault.”
Kurt gasped with scandalized excitement, “You stole from the House of Dior!”
Brimley laughed and extended his hand to help Kurt from the taxi, “No. They let me have them. But they’re secret all the same.”
Kurt was halfway to Brimley’s door muttering something about minutes and coffee and oh my God Dior by the time Brimley paid the cabdriver.
Upstairs, standing in the living room of Brimley’s condo, Kurt clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet.
“Come on,” Brimley called as he headed into the kitchen. “I won’t bite.”
Kurt made his way slowly to the kitchen, trying not to drunkenly stumble and also taking note of the exits: he liked the attention, but had no intentions of getting physical. He arrived in the kitchen just as Brimley was putting on a pot of coffee.
“I’ll go grab the sketches,” Brimley said. “They’re in the bedroom…if you want to join me.” He winked.
“No thanks,” Kurt scoffed with a flick of his wrist. “I’m fine right here.”
“Indeed you are.” Brimley mused, disappearing down the hallway.
Once Brimley returned, he handed Kurt a cup of coffee, cradled the sketchbook, and used his free hand to guide Kurt into the living room by the small of his back. At the sensation, Kurt sped up a bit, breaking contact.
Kurt let Brimley sit down first and then sat far enough away to be safe yet not awkward. Minutes later Kurt was literally bouncing in his seat. No doubt a combination of the caffeine and sheer excitement over the Dior sketches.
“Oh, you’ll love this next one,” Brimley said, scooting closer to Kurt on the couch. “It just barely missed the collection, but I’m sure you’ll still recognize it.”
“Oh my God!” Kurt basically screeched. “You can’t be serious! This—this is basically the foundation for Dior’s entire previous spring collection!” Kurt ran his fingers along the page with reverence. “The lines. What I wouldn’t give to be able to create like this.”
“But you do, Kurt,” Brimley hummed, placing his hand on Kurt’s thigh. “You’re incredibly talented and your designs are as flawless as you are.”
Kurt tensed and avoided eye contact. “Th-thank you.”
“Is something wrong, Kurt?” Brimley breathed. “Mmmm, I see…how long has it been since you’ve been touched like this?” Brimley’s hand started to rise up Kurt’s thigh and Kurt grabbed it.
“Brimley, I…”
It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. Kurt needed to stop this, but what could he say? He had let this go on for months—the compliments, the innuendos, the dinners, the drinks. And now he’d gotten tipsy and followed Brimley up to his condo. In the back of his mind, Kurt had always known it would lead to this, that in any game of cat and mouse the mouse either stopped offering itself up or would eventually be caught.
“Shhh, I know he’s neglected you.” Brimley suddenly palmed Kurt’s crotch and whispered, “Does he touch you like this?”
Kurt was on his feet in seconds. “I have to go.”
Brimley chased Kurt to the door. “Kurt, what’s wrong?”
“You know what’s wrong, Brimley. I’m married. And Blaine doesn’t neglect me.” Kurt heard his voice break and swiped, embarrassed, at the tears suddenly on his face.
“You say that. But there’s a reason you’re here.”
”I shouldn’t have come here. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Curled in the backseat of the cab, Kurt felt dirty. He needed to be home. He needed a shower. He needed Blaine.
Wednesday, March 19, 2031
It had to end today.
“Tiffany,” Kurt called into the speaker, “have Brim—Mr. Johnson meet me in my office for lunch.”
Brimley was nothing if not punctual. He came strolling in at exactly 12 o’clock.
“Can’t even wait for dinner, hmm?” Brimley said, strutting confidently into Kurt’s office and stalking across the room toward him. Kurt rose instinctively and defensively from his seat.
“Brimley, we need to talk,” Kurt tried.
“We need to do more than talk,” Brimley teased as he closed the distance between them. Kurt found himself retreating until his back was up against the glass of his windows.
“I’m tired of chasing you,” Brimley whispered into Kurt’s ear, “boosting your ego.” Brimley, only inches separating he and Kurt, placed his lips where Kurt’s jaw met his neck. Kurt pressed his palms against Brimley’s chest and pushed him away.
“We can’t. I can’t!” Kurt said as forcefully as possible.
“He doesn’t have to know,” Brimley pressed, pushing against Kurt’s hands.
“I’ll know! So, he’ll know. It will kill him. And that will kill me.”
“Stop fighting this, Kurt. You know you want this.”
“And that’s bad enough!” Kurt nearly yelled as he pushed Brimley away. “You have to go. Just get out!”
He went.
Kurt collapsed into his chair and dropped his head in his hands. How could he fix this if Brimley wouldn’t listen to him? Kurt felt like he had caused this. He didn’t feel as if he could even blame Brimley for his behavior because Kurt had led him on for so long. Brimley was tired of the chase and he wanted the prize to which he felt entitled. Kurt had to find a way out of this unscathed.
“Kurt!” Tiffany ran into the room. “Are you alright? I heard yelling.”
“No.” Kurt sniffled.
Tiffany dropped to her knees beside Kurt’s chair and began gently rubbing his back. He might be her boss, but they were friends first. She had been there at his very first boutique and she knew him well enough to know that he didn’t need an employee right now. Kurt needed a friend.
“Kurt, love, what happened?”
Kurt shook his head in his hands.
“Brimley?”
Kurt nodded his head, still not lifting his head from his hands.
“You…you tried to end it?”
“There is nothing to end!” Kurt insisted through his hands, still not looking up.
“Kurt.” Tiffany pressed.
Kurt’s head snapped up. “Fine! There’s….there’s…something, but it’s not like that, we never even—”
“Had sex?” Tiffany finished.
“No! Of course not! We didn’t even kiss. I don’t even want to kiss him.”
“You just wanted the attention and none of the consequences.” Tiffany stated it softly but the truth knocked the wind out of Kurt.
He could barely speak. “Ho-how do you…?”
“I know you, Kurt. You’ll never want anyone but Blaine, but you’re afraid no one wants you but Blaine.” Tiffany took both of Kurt’s hands in her own. “Which, honestly, Kurt…I’ve never really understood. Even if Blaine was the only person on the planet that wanted you, you’d still be the luckiest man on the planet. You’re the person that the person you love most loves the most. Hell, that’s more than I can say for me and my cat. She doesn’t look at me the way she looks at Fancy Feast.”
Silent tears ran down Kurt’s cheeks and his lips spread into an embarrassed line.
“It’s okay. We all want a little excitement and even danger once in a while.”
Kurt nodded.
“But next time you feel the need for some adventure, maybe go on a vacation or skydiving or something. And whatever you do, take Blaine with you.”
Kurt cracked a smile and actually giggled. “I-I will. I promise.”
“Good. Now I’m gonna get you some tissues while you pull yourself together and then we’re gonna figure out a way to fix this. Even if it means injecting Wilfred T. Brimley with a lethal dose of diabetes.”
Kurt laughed out loud.
“Seriously, what the hell kinda name is Brimley?” Tiffany turned to go, but not before muttering, “…the bastard.”
***
“Okay, so you know what to do?”
“Yes, Tiffany,” Kurt sighed.
“And if that doesn’t work, you take the next step okay.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously, just text me, and I’ll have it done in minutes.”
“Thanks, Tiffany,” Kurt smiled. “Now, if you could please leave me alone to do this?”
“Alright, but I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
Kurt chuckled and shooed her away with a wave of his hand. Then, he was alone with his thoughts and his phone. He took a deep breath and thumbed out the necessary texts.
The Boss 4:16pm
Drinks tonight?
Brimley Johnson 4:18pm
Purely professional?
The Boss 4:22pm
No…
Brimley Johnson 4:23pm
What time?
The Boss 4:26pm
7pm
Next. Blaine. No matter what, no lies. No more lies.
Kurt 4:30pm
The imbeciles I let organize this
weekend’s show have ruined my brilliant
vision. I’ll be home late tonight.
Kurt 4:32pm
I’m sorry.
Hubby 4:33pm
Don’t worry about it, Kurt. I’ll leave some
of T & B’s creation in the oven for you.
They’re excited about cooking tonight.
Hubby 4:34pm
I’m afraid of what will happen
without you…
Kurt 4:41pm
Oh, I forgot it’s their night…wait
Hubby 4:43pm
If you need to stay, you need to stay.
New line, new show. We understand.
We’ll miss you.
Kurt 4:47pm
Miss you too.
He hated to miss dinner, but it wasn’t for the show—it was for something even more important: his family. He had to do this. Tonight.
***
Kurt sat in the restaurant fidgeting at his table. He preferred booths, but he needed to ensure Brimley would keep a respectful distance—Kurt on one side of the table, Brimley on the other. All to soon, Brimley sauntered up to the table and took a seat opposite Kurt. Brimley grabbed the drink menu.
“What’s your poison tonight?”
“I won’t be drinking and neither will you.”
“Why so professional? I thought we were going to get…personal.” Brimley let the last word roll off his tongue suggestively.
“Oh, trust me.” Kurt said, seriously. “This is personal.”
“You’re a tough cookie to crack, Kurt.”
Kurt leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers together. “That’s because I never intend to let you get near this fortune.”
Brimley sat back and crossed his arms and legs. “Playing hard to get again, I see. I like it.”
“No, Brimley. I let this go on for far too long and it ends right now. I don’t want you. I never did. I love my husband.”
“Yeah, you were certainly loving him in my apartment last night and in your office today.”
“Last night was my mistake, and today was yours.” Kurt fired back. “And neither of us will be making anymore mistakes. It ends right now.”
“What if I don’t want it to? What if I was just starting to have fun?”
“Brimley,” Kurt took a breath and decided to take the next step. “We will have a strictly professional relationship or we won’t have one at all.”
“Now, tell me why I’m having a hard time believing that, Kurt.” Kurt felt something on his ankle. When he realized it was Brimley’s foot, he nearly fell backward in the chair in his haste to stand up. He recovered quickly, snatched his coat from the back of his chair and commenced a storm out of which even Rachel Berry would have been proud.
“Kurt!” Brimley stood and grabbed Kurt’s passing wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m late for dinner.” Kurt spat, snatching his hand away.
“We’re at dinner, Kurt!” Brimley, suddenly aware of their surroundings, lowered his voice to a whisper. “Sit down and have a drink with me.”
“No. You are alone. And I am late for dinner. With. My. Family.” Kurt turned and left and, for once, Brimley didn’t chase.
Friday, March 21, 2031
Thankfully, the fashion show had gone off without a hitch and Kurt had not so much as had to talk to Brimley. Now, if he could only make it through the after party without a scene. He had texted Tiffany and given her the go ahead on his way home from his failed “dinner” with Brimley. Kurt thought Brimley might retaliate, he just didn’t know how, but he knew he couldn’t let it involve his family. So, even though all he wanted to do was hug tight to Blaine and hold his children, he stayed far away from them so as not to tempt Brimley.
Finally, after hours of press, hugs, and handshakes, the crowd was dwindling. Soon, Kurt thought, soon I’ll be back home with my family and this will be over. He chanced a glance over to where he knew Blaine was waiting. That moment was all Brimley needed.
“You’re firing me?” Brimley was somehow inches away from Kurt, directly in his face, begging for a confrontation. Kurt steeled himself. When he spoke, his voice was calm and conversational.
“I told you we would have a professional relationship or we wouldn’t have one at all.” Kurt breathed, trying and failing to not let his discomfort show on his face.
“In an email, Kurt? You have your secretary send me an email with a link to an advertisement for my job? You call that professional?”
“If I recall correctly, at our recent dinner it was you who decided we couldn’t have a professional relationship. I simply acted in kind.”
“Well, how about I act in kind? Is that Blaine over there?” At Brimley’s words, Kurt tensed and darted his eyes to where Blaine was standing, thankfully locked in conversation with Tiffany. “Oh, and the kids too?” Brimley continued, the threat clear in his voice. “I’m sure they’d love to hear about just how professional you’ve been with me.”
Brimley leaned back from Kurt as if to make his move toward Blaine. Kurt had to play the last card he had left.
“If you want a recommendation you’ll do no such thing,” Kurt rushed, all the words coming on one breath.
“What?” Brimley’s eyes went wide. Finally, it seemed Kurt had caught and passed Brimley for once.
“You heard me, Brimley.” It was Kurt who moved forward this time, closing the space between them to a whisper. “If you ever want to work in this industry again, you’ll fulfill your final duties as Product Development Manager, you will pack your things, and you will go. Quietly.”
They stood in the silence, Brimley fuming and Kurt doing his best to withstand the heat.
Suddenly, Brimley gripped Kurt’s arm and tugged Kurt forward so that Brimley’s lips were at Kurt’s ear. “You can get rid of me, but you won’t escape the consequences, Kurt. Look at him standing over there.” Brimley strengthened his grip and shook Kurt’s arm. “Such a dutiful husband and father to your kids. He’s never loved or wanted anyone else but you, and how do you repay him? When you were in my house, letting me feel you up,” Brimley kissed Kurt’s ear. “You said he didn’t deserve this. But you were wrong. You don’t deserve him. I just hope I’m around when he figures it out.”
Kurt turned out of Brimley’s grip and stormed off, hopefully appearing more strong and righteous than he felt. Kurt no longer cared about making a scene. He had to leave.
Blaine caught Kurt’s arm. “Kurt?”
Kurt did not stop. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. Are you ready?”
“Yes, umm, is everything okay?” Blaine asked.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure? That guy—“
“He’s nobody.”
Kurt tried his best to put on a smile and cheery attitude for the kids, but he knew he was failing…as a father, as a husband.
Blaine turned to go retrieve their coats and Kurt called into the distance. “Blaine? Thank you…for waiting.”
Blaine gave him a sidelong glance and a sad sort of smile. “Of course.”
Kurt had to tell him. Brimley was right, Blaine didn’t deserve this and Kurt didn’t deserve Blaine. The least Kurt could do was muster the courage to tell Blaine the truth and let him decide for himself if he wanted to continue to live less than the life he deserved on less than the love he had earned because Kurt was less than the husband he’d promised.
***
Wednesday, March 26, 2031
Kurt had finally gotten out of bed and come to work. However, and somewhat predictably, he’d only managed to sit at his desk with his back to the door and stare out of his windows at the New York skyline wondering where Blaine was and if he was ever coming back. Tiffany came in to bring him lunch and water, but other than that, he wanted to be left alone.
He heard his door open and footsteps signal someone’s entrance.
“Tiffany, please,” Kurt whispered, his voice hoarse with grief.
“It’s not Tiffany, it’s me.”
That voice made Kurt want to vomit. Kurt didn’t turn to face him. “Leave, Brimley.”
“I just wanted to apologize for my behavior at the after party.”
“Leave.”
“It’s just, I’ve had some time to think and you were right and I was wrong and if you’re still willing to give me a recommendation—“
“Get out. Please.” Kurt’s last word was more of a beg than he wanted to admit. Thankfully, he heard retreating footsteps.
“Uh, Kurt…I-I’m sorry about Blai—“
“No you aren’t!” Kurt cut in, not wanting to hear Blaine’s name in Brimley’s voice.
“I know you can’t believe me right now, but I am sorry and if I can help in any—“
“You’ve done enough.” Kurt couldn’t hide the defeat in his voice. “Please, Brimley, just finish up your paperwork and go.”
He did.
Saturday, March 29, 2031
Kurt had told Blaine the details of his indiscretions. Kurt just hoped Blaine would stick around long enough to let him redeem himself, prove himself worthy.
“Is that all?”
“No.” Here was Kurt’s chance. He took a breath. “I invited him to drinks that night to--”
“Wait. Wednesday night?”
“Yes, but--” I told him it was over, Kurt wanted to finish.
“Let me get this straight.” Blaine took a shuddering breath. “You carried on a…a relationship, with another man for months. That man tried to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him. So you took him to drinks instead of spending the night with your husband and eating the dinner your children made?”
Kurt looked into Blaine’s tearful eyes and searched for a way to ease his pain. “Yes, Blaine. But I needed to know…” that Brimley would leave us alone.
“Know what, Kurt? What’s there to know except that I love you? That was always enough for me. Why am I never enough for you?”
“It’s not about whether you’re enough,” Kurt pleaded.
“Then what is it Kurt? Please tell me so that I can know. So that the next time you leave, I can understand why.”
Why was Blaine so good at pushing Kurt’s buttons? Why was Kurt so bad at admitting when the button pressed was the truth?
“I didn’t leave Blaine. You did!”
“I left because you left!”
“I left because I wanted you to chase me, but you didn’t even notice I was gone!”
“Well, Kurt, forgive me if I was too busy raising our kids to worry about you
fulfilling your cat and mouse fantasies.”
“Why don’t you ever fight for me, Blaine? Pursue me?”
“Why do you run?” Blaine nearly yelled. There it was—the question that had been hanging in the air for years, finally spoken aloud.
Watching Blaine leave the coffee shop that day, Kurt finally knew the answer. Could he find the courage to reveal it?
***
In the aftermath of the disastrous coffee shop conversation, Kurt lay on Blaine’s side of the bed, crying and trying to gather the courage to fix it. Suddenly, his phone was ringing. It had to be Blaine; he was finally calling. Kurt frantically grabbed the phone, jamming the phone to his ear and choking out, “Blaine? Oh God, I’m so glad you ca—“
“Kurt?”
“Bri-Brimley?”
“Hello, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“I’m sure,” Kurt tried for an air of superiority. “Please, just get to the point, Brimley. I’m in the middle of something.”
“It certainly sounds like it,” Brimley remarked. “Anyway, in order to bring a close to our professional relationship, I need to compile and submit the final numbers to the manufacturer so the Legend Line can be produced to full capacity.”
“Okay?” Kurt said, confused. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because you had the papers last, if I’m not mistaken. You took them home to look over them.”
“Sorry, you’re right,” Kurt said, remembering. “I do have them. I’ll bring them into the office on Monday. Goodb—“
“Actually, Kurt,” Brimley interrupted. “I was hoping to get them this weekend. It’s fairly time sensitive, as you know.”
“Fine,” Kurt gave in. “I’ll drop them off at the office and you can pick them up.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I can just come get them from you, maybe tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Kurt rushed. “Plus, tomorrow is bad. Blaine’s coming by to get the kids in the morning and I’ll be busy all day. It’s already a stretch for me to get the papers to the office.”
“It would only take a second,” Brimley pressed.
“No, Brimley. Either I can bring them into the office tomorrow, or you can wait until Monday.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Fine. I should be able to make it into the City around noon. I’ll drop them off then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Brimley.”
“Goodbye.”
Sunday, March 30, 2031
“What the hell are you doing here?” Kurt demanded.
“I came to get the papers, Kurt,” Brimley said, calmly stepping, uninvited, over the threshold. “I had to leave the City anyway to see a friend, so I figured I’d stop by and save you the trip.” Brimley was actually grinning.
“You’re a liar. I know exactly why you’re here,” Kurt spat. “How could I have been so stupid?” It all suddenly clicked together: Brimley’s words at the after party, his faux concern days later, his phone call the night previous. “You know Blaine is coming and you decided you’d just drop in, didn’t you?”
“Oh, is he coming?” Brimley feigned ignorance. “I take it he’s not here yet. Pity…”
“Good God, Brimley. I’d heard things and I had suspicions, but this is too much. I’m onto you.”
“Onto me?” Brimley chuckled, “Really, Kurt?” Brimley sauntered into Kurt’s physical space.
“Back up, Brimley. Don’t you dare move,” Kurt ordered, his extended index finger inches from Brimley’s chest. “You’re going to stand right here while I go get the papers. Then, you’re going to get the hell out of my house and my life. Do you understand?”
He couldn’t have been gone for more than four minutes. Four minutes was all it took for his plans to rebuild the rubble of his life to collapse into ash. Kurt had let Blaine walk into their home and find another man with their children. It didn’t matter that Kurt had planned to talk to Blaine, to fix things. It didn’t matter that Brimley had engineered this, apparently one step ahead of Kurt the entire time, not only manipulating Kurt, but also Tori. All that mattered was that Kurt had allowed this, caused this, with his thoughtlessness.
Kurt had driven Blaine away and made him believe Kurt didn’t love him.
***
Saturday, June 7, 2031
Mercedes and Rachel had finally left and Kurt was sitting alone among the debris. His frantic search for the divorce papers had destroyed the tiny office. Kurt was trying to clean the room, but in actuality was just shuffling papers and knick-knacks aimlessly across the floor, like a child rearranging their vegetables on the plate to avoid truly eating them.
Kurt took a deep shuddering breath and felt a calm come over him as the familiar scent of magnolia surrounded him. His eyes fell instinctively on the top drawer of the old oak dresser in the corner, its top-drawer carelessly thrown open in his rampage. He crawled toward his mother’s scent, and leaned on the dresser for support as he pulled himself up to standing. Kurt made to close the drawer but something caught his eye—a yellowing folded scrap of paper, forgotten in the back of the drawer. His fingers were gentle as he worked the paper’s folds, bending it open. Kurt could barely hear his inner voice reading the words over his quickened heartbeat. Somehow, in Kurt’s soul, he knew the words echoing in his mind held the answer—these words were he and Blaine’s roadmap back home, back to each other. He clutched the tiny paper to his chest, rested his head on the top of the dresser, and breathed into the top drawer. “Thank you, Mom. I love him too.”
***
Saturday, June 14, 2031
“Papa,” Tori gently shook Kurt’s arm, “are you ready?”
The plane had finally landed in Ohio and it was mostly empty except for a few other parents and their children.
“Yes, sweetie.”
Tori hopped out of her seat and bounced in the aisle, restless after sitting the entire flight.
“Hold your brother for a second while I grab our bags.” Kurt handed Bertie and his bag to Tori and retrieved her tiny purple suitcase and his larger carry on (they’d checked Bertie’s stroller at the gate).
“What about that other bag, Papa?” Tori asked, pointing to a messenger back still in the overhead compartment. “Is that ours too?”
“Yes, sweetie.” Kurt gingerly grabbed the bag and looped it over his shoulder, patting it gently where he knew it held the papers that would make or break their little family. “Yes, it is.”
With Bertie sound asleep on his lap and Tori softly snoring with her head on his arm, not quite reaching his shoulder, Kurt had nothing to do but think. The flight from New York to Ohio would last just a bit over an hour and Kurt knew he would spend the entire time contemplating his carryon and the manila envelop tucked inside, literally looming above him. How had it come to this and what would handing those papers to Blaine mean?
It was Brimley’s first day. Mere hours after the first group meeting, Kurt had summoned him and Brimley was now seated across from Kurt, patiently rehashing details from the production timeline to the transport used to import the silk. Forty-three minutes later, Kurt’s newest and most inane question yet was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Tiffany! I swear!”
“Forgive me. Tiffany wasn’t at her desk, so I just came on in,” Kurt would know that voice anywhere. A gelled head emerged from behind the door. “Hi there,” Blaine said with a smile. Then, noticing the suit in the room, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting.”
“Hey you,” Kurt grinned. “Not a problem. Blaine, this is Brimley. He’s producing the Legend Line and dealing with my insanity.”
“Welcome to my world, Brimley.” Blaine laughed, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” replied Brimley with a polite nod.
“I’ll be done shortly. Then dinner?” Kurt asked.
“Then dinner. I’ll just go bother the worker bees.”
“They’ll love that.” Kurt smiled.
“Good to meet you, Brimley,” Blaine offered again before exiting.
“And you.” Brimley turned his attention back to Kurt. “Was that the lucky Mr. Hummel?”
“Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected. “Yes.”
“He’s cute.”
“I know.”
“You’re cuter.” Brimley smiled.
“Umm…Thank you,” Kurt managed. “Well…so…what were we talking about?”
“The brand of thread we’re using for inseams, sir.”
Brimley Johnston 9:43pm
Why are you still in your office?
The Boss 9:46pm
The same reason you are. Working.
Brimley Johnston 9:47pm
Clearly, I’m not doing my job.
The Boss 9:49pm
What do you mean? You’re doing a
wonderful job.
Brimley Johnston 9:50pm
If I were, you wouldn’t be here.
The Boss 9:53pm
I’m over anal
Brimley Johnston 9:54pm
Hmmm. I could help with that.
The Boss 9:54pm
Analyzing! Over analyzing. Fucking
autocorrect.
Brimley Johnston 9:55pm
The former is more interesting.
The Boss 10:17pm
Goodnight, Brimley.
Brimley Johnston 10:18pm
Goodnight, Mr. Hummel.
The Boss 10:19pm
Anderson-Hummel.
Brimley Johnston 10:23pm
Of course.
If only Kurt had had one less meeting, or spent one less minute being an anal retentive perfectionist, maybe he would not be standing in his office being made to feel decidedly uncomfortable under the gaze of Brimley’s green eyes.
“Kurt?”
“Yes, Brimley? I’m busy,” Kurt responded brusquely, pointedly avoiding eye contact.
“I’m sorry for last night,” Brimley whispered sincerely.
“Good,” Kurt finally commented. “It was inappropriate.”
“I know. It won’t happen again. Let me make it up to you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Brimley. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Really, Kurt. Let me take you to dinner.” Brimley offered.
“Brimley! What don’t you underst—“
“No, not like that,” Brimley tried to explain. “It would be purely professional. We can start over and you can ask all the nitpicky questions you’d like.”
“Fine, Brimley. Fine. We’ll have dinner.”
***
Blaine was moaning lightly and Kurt had just begun to inch Blaine’s shirt from his pants when Kurt’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
“Ugh, who would be trying to contact you so late?” Blaine asked.
“I don’t know,” Kurt said, slightly intrigued. Blaine, eyes still closed, reached out blindly for the coffee table. Finally grasping the phone, he passed it behind his head to Kurt. Phone in hand, Kurt stared at the new text message.
Brimley 10:34pm
Dinner? Monday after work. Purely
professional.
Kurt looked down at Blaine beneath him, sighed deeply, thumbed out his response, and tossed the phone lightly back onto the coffee table.
“Who was that?” Blaine asked.
“No one.” Kurt paused, “Just Tiffany letting me know I have a late meeting on Monday. Looks like I’ll have to miss dinner.”
…that had been the first lie.
The first few dinners had been purely professional…until dinner turned into dinner and drinks.
They sat in a corner booth. The lights were dim.
“So, how did you end up with Mr. Anderson?” Brimley asked.
“Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected.
“Naturally.”
“We met in high school.”
“Ahh, high school sweethearts. How charming.”
“Yes. He is very charming,”
“As are you.”
“Stop, Brimley.”
“No. You need to learn to take a compliment.” Brimley leaned forward. “I get it. You’ve been with the same guy basically all your life. Other men see you, and want you, but they’re too intimidated to approach you, and you’re too caught up in Prince Charming to notice them noticing. You’re not used to being pursued. It’s understandable but unacceptable.”
Kurt had known he should have ended it then. But, he enjoyed too much the feeling of being pursued…especially because he thought he would never get caught. So dinner and drinks quickly turned into just drinks and Kurt never noticed that Brimley was gaining on him.
They were at the bar. Again. Brimley’s hand was on Kurt’s knee. Again.
“I like you.” Brimley let his hand drift up Kurt’s thigh.
“I know.” Kurt removed Brimley’s hand from his thigh.
“And you like the attention.” Brimley leaned in.
“And what if I do?” Kurt asked, lifting his chin.
“Liking the attention isn’t a problem, especially since I like giving it. But you should ask yourself why you’re here bathing in my attentions and not at home with your Prince Charming.”
In the months since Blaine had left, Kurt had searched his brain and heart for an answer. The one he settled on wasn’t pleasant but it was true: he had been stupid and selfish, seeking a little “innocent” excitement outside his daily routine. Kurt had convinced himself that what he had been doing wasn’t so wrong…wasn’t really cheating, because he had left his heart at home, so it was never in danger. But now Kurt knew he should have never left home.
He had been in Brimley’s apartment that night. He should have never gone.
Kurt had been fairly tipsy after their few drinks at the bar and had gotten into a cab with Brimley, thinking he’d be dropped off at the train station, pay his half, and Brimley would continue on his way. When they instead pulled up outside of Brimley’s apartment, Kurt had protested.
“Come on, Kurt. It’s no big deal. You need to sober up a bit before heading home anyway. Wouldn’t want Mr. Hummel to think you’ve been drinking on the job.”
“Mr. Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected with a huff, still not leaving the taxi.
“Seriously, Kurt. Just for a bit. I’ll put on some coffee and show you some secret sketches I stole from the Dior vault.”
Kurt gasped with scandalized excitement, “You stole from the House of Dior!”
Brimley laughed and extended his hand to help Kurt from the taxi, “No. They let me have them. But they’re secret all the same.”
Kurt was halfway to Brimley’s door muttering something about minutes and coffee and oh my God Dior by the time Brimley paid the cabdriver.
Upstairs, standing in the living room of Brimley’s condo, Kurt clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet.
“Come on,” Brimley called as he headed into the kitchen. “I won’t bite.”
Kurt made his way slowly to the kitchen, trying not to drunkenly stumble and also taking note of the exits: he liked the attention, but had no intentions of getting physical. He arrived in the kitchen just as Brimley was putting on a pot of coffee.
“I’ll go grab the sketches,” Brimley said. “They’re in the bedroom…if you want to join me.” He winked.
“No thanks,” Kurt scoffed with a flick of his wrist. “I’m fine right here.”
“Indeed you are.” Brimley mused, disappearing down the hallway.
Once Brimley returned, he handed Kurt a cup of coffee, cradled the sketchbook, and used his free hand to guide Kurt into the living room by the small of his back. At the sensation, Kurt sped up a bit, breaking contact.
Kurt let Brimley sit down first and then sat far enough away to be safe yet not awkward. Minutes later Kurt was literally bouncing in his seat. No doubt a combination of the caffeine and sheer excitement over the Dior sketches.
“Oh, you’ll love this next one,” Brimley said, scooting closer to Kurt on the couch. “It just barely missed the collection, but I’m sure you’ll still recognize it.”
“Oh my God!” Kurt basically screeched. “You can’t be serious! This—this is basically the foundation for Dior’s entire previous spring collection!” Kurt ran his fingers along the page with reverence. “The lines. What I wouldn’t give to be able to create like this.”
“But you do, Kurt,” Brimley hummed, placing his hand on Kurt’s thigh. “You’re incredibly talented and your designs are as flawless as you are.”
Kurt tensed and avoided eye contact. “Th-thank you.”
“Is something wrong, Kurt?” Brimley breathed. “Mmmm, I see…how long has it been since you’ve been touched like this?” Brimley’s hand started to rise up Kurt’s thigh and Kurt grabbed it.
“Brimley, I…”
It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. Kurt needed to stop this, but what could he say? He had let this go on for months—the compliments, the innuendos, the dinners, the drinks. And now he’d gotten tipsy and followed Brimley up to his condo. In the back of his mind, Kurt had always known it would lead to this, that in any game of cat and mouse the mouse either stopped offering itself up or would eventually be caught.
“Shhh, I know he’s neglected you.” Brimley suddenly palmed Kurt’s crotch and whispered, “Does he touch you like this?”
Kurt was on his feet in seconds. “I have to go.”
Brimley chased Kurt to the door. “Kurt, what’s wrong?”
“You know what’s wrong, Brimley. I’m married. And Blaine doesn’t neglect me.” Kurt heard his voice break and swiped, embarrassed, at the tears suddenly on his face.
“You say that. But there’s a reason you’re here.”
”I shouldn’t have come here. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Curled in the backseat of the cab, Kurt felt dirty. He needed to be home. He needed a shower. He needed Blaine.
It had to end today.
“Tiffany,” Kurt called into the speaker, “have Brim—Mr. Johnson meet me in my office for lunch.”
Brimley was nothing if not punctual. He came strolling in at exactly 12 o’clock.
“Can’t even wait for dinner, hmm?” Brimley said, strutting confidently into Kurt’s office and stalking across the room toward him. Kurt rose instinctively and defensively from his seat.
“Brimley, we need to talk,” Kurt tried.
“We need to do more than talk,” Brimley teased as he closed the distance between them. Kurt found himself retreating until his back was up against the glass of his windows.
“I’m tired of chasing you,” Brimley whispered into Kurt’s ear, “boosting your ego.” Brimley, only inches separating he and Kurt, placed his lips where Kurt’s jaw met his neck. Kurt pressed his palms against Brimley’s chest and pushed him away.
“We can’t. I can’t!” Kurt said as forcefully as possible.
“He doesn’t have to know,” Brimley pressed, pushing against Kurt’s hands.
“I’ll know! So, he’ll know. It will kill him. And that will kill me.”
“Stop fighting this, Kurt. You know you want this.”
“And that’s bad enough!” Kurt nearly yelled as he pushed Brimley away. “You have to go. Just get out!”
He went.
Kurt collapsed into his chair and dropped his head in his hands. How could he fix this if Brimley wouldn’t listen to him? Kurt felt like he had caused this. He didn’t feel as if he could even blame Brimley for his behavior because Kurt had led him on for so long. Brimley was tired of the chase and he wanted the prize to which he felt entitled. Kurt had to find a way out of this unscathed.
“Kurt!” Tiffany ran into the room. “Are you alright? I heard yelling.”
“No.” Kurt sniffled.
Tiffany dropped to her knees beside Kurt’s chair and began gently rubbing his back. He might be her boss, but they were friends first. She had been there at his very first boutique and she knew him well enough to know that he didn’t need an employee right now. Kurt needed a friend.
“Kurt, love, what happened?”
Kurt shook his head in his hands.
“Brimley?”
Kurt nodded his head, still not lifting his head from his hands.
“You…you tried to end it?”
“There is nothing to end!” Kurt insisted through his hands, still not looking up.
“Kurt.” Tiffany pressed.
Kurt’s head snapped up. “Fine! There’s….there’s…something, but it’s not like that, we never even—”
“Had sex?” Tiffany finished.
“No! Of course not! We didn’t even kiss. I don’t even want to kiss him.”
“You just wanted the attention and none of the consequences.” Tiffany stated it softly but the truth knocked the wind out of Kurt.
He could barely speak. “Ho-how do you…?”
“I know you, Kurt. You’ll never want anyone but Blaine, but you’re afraid no one wants you but Blaine.” Tiffany took both of Kurt’s hands in her own. “Which, honestly, Kurt…I’ve never really understood. Even if Blaine was the only person on the planet that wanted you, you’d still be the luckiest man on the planet. You’re the person that the person you love most loves the most. Hell, that’s more than I can say for me and my cat. She doesn’t look at me the way she looks at Fancy Feast.”
Silent tears ran down Kurt’s cheeks and his lips spread into an embarrassed line.
“It’s okay. We all want a little excitement and even danger once in a while.”
Kurt nodded.
“But next time you feel the need for some adventure, maybe go on a vacation or skydiving or something. And whatever you do, take Blaine with you.”
Kurt cracked a smile and actually giggled. “I-I will. I promise.”
“Good. Now I’m gonna get you some tissues while you pull yourself together and then we’re gonna figure out a way to fix this. Even if it means injecting Wilfred T. Brimley with a lethal dose of diabetes.”
Kurt laughed out loud.
“Seriously, what the hell kinda name is Brimley?” Tiffany turned to go, but not before muttering, “…the bastard.”
***
“Okay, so you know what to do?”
“Yes, Tiffany,” Kurt sighed.
“And if that doesn’t work, you take the next step okay.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously, just text me, and I’ll have it done in minutes.”
“Thanks, Tiffany,” Kurt smiled. “Now, if you could please leave me alone to do this?”
“Alright, but I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
Kurt chuckled and shooed her away with a wave of his hand. Then, he was alone with his thoughts and his phone. He took a deep breath and thumbed out the necessary texts.
The Boss 4:16pm
Drinks tonight?
Brimley Johnson 4:18pm
Purely professional?
The Boss 4:22pm
No…
Brimley Johnson 4:23pm
What time?
The Boss 4:26pm
7pm
Next. Blaine. No matter what, no lies. No more lies.
Kurt 4:30pm
The imbeciles I let organize this
weekend’s show have ruined my brilliant
vision. I’ll be home late tonight.
Kurt 4:32pm
I’m sorry.
Hubby 4:33pm
Don’t worry about it, Kurt. I’ll leave some
of T & B’s creation in the oven for you.
They’re excited about cooking tonight.
Hubby 4:34pm
I’m afraid of what will happen
without you…
Kurt 4:41pm
Oh, I forgot it’s their night…wait
Hubby 4:43pm
If you need to stay, you need to stay.
New line, new show. We understand.
We’ll miss you.
Kurt 4:47pm
Miss you too.
He hated to miss dinner, but it wasn’t for the show—it was for something even more important: his family. He had to do this. Tonight.
***
Kurt sat in the restaurant fidgeting at his table. He preferred booths, but he needed to ensure Brimley would keep a respectful distance—Kurt on one side of the table, Brimley on the other. All to soon, Brimley sauntered up to the table and took a seat opposite Kurt. Brimley grabbed the drink menu.
“What’s your poison tonight?”
“I won’t be drinking and neither will you.”
“Why so professional? I thought we were going to get…personal.” Brimley let the last word roll off his tongue suggestively.
“Oh, trust me.” Kurt said, seriously. “This is personal.”
“You’re a tough cookie to crack, Kurt.”
Kurt leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers together. “That’s because I never intend to let you get near this fortune.”
Brimley sat back and crossed his arms and legs. “Playing hard to get again, I see. I like it.”
“No, Brimley. I let this go on for far too long and it ends right now. I don’t want you. I never did. I love my husband.”
“Yeah, you were certainly loving him in my apartment last night and in your office today.”
“Last night was my mistake, and today was yours.” Kurt fired back. “And neither of us will be making anymore mistakes. It ends right now.”
“What if I don’t want it to? What if I was just starting to have fun?”
“Brimley,” Kurt took a breath and decided to take the next step. “We will have a strictly professional relationship or we won’t have one at all.”
“Now, tell me why I’m having a hard time believing that, Kurt.” Kurt felt something on his ankle. When he realized it was Brimley’s foot, he nearly fell backward in the chair in his haste to stand up. He recovered quickly, snatched his coat from the back of his chair and commenced a storm out of which even Rachel Berry would have been proud.
“Kurt!” Brimley stood and grabbed Kurt’s passing wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m late for dinner.” Kurt spat, snatching his hand away.
“We’re at dinner, Kurt!” Brimley, suddenly aware of their surroundings, lowered his voice to a whisper. “Sit down and have a drink with me.”
“No. You are alone. And I am late for dinner. With. My. Family.” Kurt turned and left and, for once, Brimley didn’t chase.
Thankfully, the fashion show had gone off without a hitch and Kurt had not so much as had to talk to Brimley. Now, if he could only make it through the after party without a scene. He had texted Tiffany and given her the go ahead on his way home from his failed “dinner” with Brimley. Kurt thought Brimley might retaliate, he just didn’t know how, but he knew he couldn’t let it involve his family. So, even though all he wanted to do was hug tight to Blaine and hold his children, he stayed far away from them so as not to tempt Brimley.
Finally, after hours of press, hugs, and handshakes, the crowd was dwindling. Soon, Kurt thought, soon I’ll be back home with my family and this will be over. He chanced a glance over to where he knew Blaine was waiting. That moment was all Brimley needed.
“You’re firing me?” Brimley was somehow inches away from Kurt, directly in his face, begging for a confrontation. Kurt steeled himself. When he spoke, his voice was calm and conversational.
“I told you we would have a professional relationship or we wouldn’t have one at all.” Kurt breathed, trying and failing to not let his discomfort show on his face.
“In an email, Kurt? You have your secretary send me an email with a link to an advertisement for my job? You call that professional?”
“If I recall correctly, at our recent dinner it was you who decided we couldn’t have a professional relationship. I simply acted in kind.”
“Well, how about I act in kind? Is that Blaine over there?” At Brimley’s words, Kurt tensed and darted his eyes to where Blaine was standing, thankfully locked in conversation with Tiffany. “Oh, and the kids too?” Brimley continued, the threat clear in his voice. “I’m sure they’d love to hear about just how professional you’ve been with me.”
Brimley leaned back from Kurt as if to make his move toward Blaine. Kurt had to play the last card he had left.
“If you want a recommendation you’ll do no such thing,” Kurt rushed, all the words coming on one breath.
“What?” Brimley’s eyes went wide. Finally, it seemed Kurt had caught and passed Brimley for once.
“You heard me, Brimley.” It was Kurt who moved forward this time, closing the space between them to a whisper. “If you ever want to work in this industry again, you’ll fulfill your final duties as Product Development Manager, you will pack your things, and you will go. Quietly.”
They stood in the silence, Brimley fuming and Kurt doing his best to withstand the heat.
Suddenly, Brimley gripped Kurt’s arm and tugged Kurt forward so that Brimley’s lips were at Kurt’s ear. “You can get rid of me, but you won’t escape the consequences, Kurt. Look at him standing over there.” Brimley strengthened his grip and shook Kurt’s arm. “Such a dutiful husband and father to your kids. He’s never loved or wanted anyone else but you, and how do you repay him? When you were in my house, letting me feel you up,” Brimley kissed Kurt’s ear. “You said he didn’t deserve this. But you were wrong. You don’t deserve him. I just hope I’m around when he figures it out.”
Kurt turned out of Brimley’s grip and stormed off, hopefully appearing more strong and righteous than he felt. Kurt no longer cared about making a scene. He had to leave.
Blaine caught Kurt’s arm. “Kurt?”
Kurt did not stop. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. Are you ready?”
“Yes, umm, is everything okay?” Blaine asked.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure? That guy—“
“He’s nobody.”
Kurt tried his best to put on a smile and cheery attitude for the kids, but he knew he was failing…as a father, as a husband.
Blaine turned to go retrieve their coats and Kurt called into the distance. “Blaine? Thank you…for waiting.”
Blaine gave him a sidelong glance and a sad sort of smile. “Of course.”
Kurt had to tell him. Brimley was right, Blaine didn’t deserve this and Kurt didn’t deserve Blaine. The least Kurt could do was muster the courage to tell Blaine the truth and let him decide for himself if he wanted to continue to live less than the life he deserved on less than the love he had earned because Kurt was less than the husband he’d promised.
***
Kurt had finally gotten out of bed and come to work. However, and somewhat predictably, he’d only managed to sit at his desk with his back to the door and stare out of his windows at the New York skyline wondering where Blaine was and if he was ever coming back. Tiffany came in to bring him lunch and water, but other than that, he wanted to be left alone.
He heard his door open and footsteps signal someone’s entrance.
“Tiffany, please,” Kurt whispered, his voice hoarse with grief.
“It’s not Tiffany, it’s me.”
That voice made Kurt want to vomit. Kurt didn’t turn to face him. “Leave, Brimley.”
“I just wanted to apologize for my behavior at the after party.”
“Leave.”
“It’s just, I’ve had some time to think and you were right and I was wrong and if you’re still willing to give me a recommendation—“
“Get out. Please.” Kurt’s last word was more of a beg than he wanted to admit. Thankfully, he heard retreating footsteps.
“Uh, Kurt…I-I’m sorry about Blai—“
“No you aren’t!” Kurt cut in, not wanting to hear Blaine’s name in Brimley’s voice.
“I know you can’t believe me right now, but I am sorry and if I can help in any—“
“You’ve done enough.” Kurt couldn’t hide the defeat in his voice. “Please, Brimley, just finish up your paperwork and go.”
He did.
Kurt had told Blaine the details of his indiscretions. Kurt just hoped Blaine would stick around long enough to let him redeem himself, prove himself worthy.
“Is that all?”
“No.” Here was Kurt’s chance. He took a breath. “I invited him to drinks that night to--”
“Wait. Wednesday night?”
“Yes, but--” I told him it was over, Kurt wanted to finish.
“Let me get this straight.” Blaine took a shuddering breath. “You carried on a…a relationship, with another man for months. That man tried to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him. So you took him to drinks instead of spending the night with your husband and eating the dinner your children made?”
Kurt looked into Blaine’s tearful eyes and searched for a way to ease his pain. “Yes, Blaine. But I needed to know…” that Brimley would leave us alone.
“Know what, Kurt? What’s there to know except that I love you? That was always enough for me. Why am I never enough for you?”
“It’s not about whether you’re enough,” Kurt pleaded.
“Then what is it Kurt? Please tell me so that I can know. So that the next time you leave, I can understand why.”
Why was Blaine so good at pushing Kurt’s buttons? Why was Kurt so bad at admitting when the button pressed was the truth?
“I didn’t leave Blaine. You did!”
“I left because you left!”
“I left because I wanted you to chase me, but you didn’t even notice I was gone!”
“Well, Kurt, forgive me if I was too busy raising our kids to worry about you
fulfilling your cat and mouse fantasies.”
“Why don’t you ever fight for me, Blaine? Pursue me?”
“Why do you run?” Blaine nearly yelled. There it was—the question that had been hanging in the air for years, finally spoken aloud.
Watching Blaine leave the coffee shop that day, Kurt finally knew the answer. Could he find the courage to reveal it?
***
In the aftermath of the disastrous coffee shop conversation, Kurt lay on Blaine’s side of the bed, crying and trying to gather the courage to fix it. Suddenly, his phone was ringing. It had to be Blaine; he was finally calling. Kurt frantically grabbed the phone, jamming the phone to his ear and choking out, “Blaine? Oh God, I’m so glad you ca—“
“Kurt?”
“Bri-Brimley?”
“Hello, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“I’m sure,” Kurt tried for an air of superiority. “Please, just get to the point, Brimley. I’m in the middle of something.”
“It certainly sounds like it,” Brimley remarked. “Anyway, in order to bring a close to our professional relationship, I need to compile and submit the final numbers to the manufacturer so the Legend Line can be produced to full capacity.”
“Okay?” Kurt said, confused. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because you had the papers last, if I’m not mistaken. You took them home to look over them.”
“Sorry, you’re right,” Kurt said, remembering. “I do have them. I’ll bring them into the office on Monday. Goodb—“
“Actually, Kurt,” Brimley interrupted. “I was hoping to get them this weekend. It’s fairly time sensitive, as you know.”
“Fine,” Kurt gave in. “I’ll drop them off at the office and you can pick them up.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I can just come get them from you, maybe tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Kurt rushed. “Plus, tomorrow is bad. Blaine’s coming by to get the kids in the morning and I’ll be busy all day. It’s already a stretch for me to get the papers to the office.”
“It would only take a second,” Brimley pressed.
“No, Brimley. Either I can bring them into the office tomorrow, or you can wait until Monday.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Fine. I should be able to make it into the City around noon. I’ll drop them off then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Brimley.”
“Goodbye.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Kurt demanded.
“I came to get the papers, Kurt,” Brimley said, calmly stepping, uninvited, over the threshold. “I had to leave the City anyway to see a friend, so I figured I’d stop by and save you the trip.” Brimley was actually grinning.
“You’re a liar. I know exactly why you’re here,” Kurt spat. “How could I have been so stupid?” It all suddenly clicked together: Brimley’s words at the after party, his faux concern days later, his phone call the night previous. “You know Blaine is coming and you decided you’d just drop in, didn’t you?”
“Oh, is he coming?” Brimley feigned ignorance. “I take it he’s not here yet. Pity…”
“Good God, Brimley. I’d heard things and I had suspicions, but this is too much. I’m onto you.”
“Onto me?” Brimley chuckled, “Really, Kurt?” Brimley sauntered into Kurt’s physical space.
“Back up, Brimley. Don’t you dare move,” Kurt ordered, his extended index finger inches from Brimley’s chest. “You’re going to stand right here while I go get the papers. Then, you’re going to get the hell out of my house and my life. Do you understand?”
He couldn’t have been gone for more than four minutes. Four minutes was all it took for his plans to rebuild the rubble of his life to collapse into ash. Kurt had let Blaine walk into their home and find another man with their children. It didn’t matter that Kurt had planned to talk to Blaine, to fix things. It didn’t matter that Brimley had engineered this, apparently one step ahead of Kurt the entire time, not only manipulating Kurt, but also Tori. All that mattered was that Kurt had allowed this, caused this, with his thoughtlessness.
Kurt had driven Blaine away and made him believe Kurt didn’t love him.
***
Mercedes and Rachel had finally left and Kurt was sitting alone among the debris. His frantic search for the divorce papers had destroyed the tiny office. Kurt was trying to clean the room, but in actuality was just shuffling papers and knick-knacks aimlessly across the floor, like a child rearranging their vegetables on the plate to avoid truly eating them.
Kurt took a deep shuddering breath and felt a calm come over him as the familiar scent of magnolia surrounded him. His eyes fell instinctively on the top drawer of the old oak dresser in the corner, its top-drawer carelessly thrown open in his rampage. He crawled toward his mother’s scent, and leaned on the dresser for support as he pulled himself up to standing. Kurt made to close the drawer but something caught his eye—a yellowing folded scrap of paper, forgotten in the back of the drawer. His fingers were gentle as he worked the paper’s folds, bending it open. Kurt could barely hear his inner voice reading the words over his quickened heartbeat. Somehow, in Kurt’s soul, he knew the words echoing in his mind held the answer—these words were he and Blaine’s roadmap back home, back to each other. He clutched the tiny paper to his chest, rested his head on the top of the dresser, and breathed into the top drawer. “Thank you, Mom. I love him too.”
***
“Papa,” Tori gently shook Kurt’s arm, “are you ready?”
The plane had finally landed in Ohio and it was mostly empty except for a few other parents and their children.
“Yes, sweetie.”
Tori hopped out of her seat and bounced in the aisle, restless after sitting the entire flight.
“Hold your brother for a second while I grab our bags.” Kurt handed Bertie and his bag to Tori and retrieved her tiny purple suitcase and his larger carry on (they’d checked Bertie’s stroller at the gate).
“What about that other bag, Papa?” Tori asked, pointing to a messenger back still in the overhead compartment. “Is that ours too?”
“Yes, sweetie.” Kurt gingerly grabbed the bag and looped it over his shoulder, patting it gently where he knew it held the papers that would make or break their little family. “Yes, it is.”
With Bertie sound asleep on his lap and Tori softly snoring with her head on his arm, not quite reaching his shoulder, Kurt had nothing to do but think. The flight from New York to Ohio would last just a bit over an hour and Kurt knew he would spend the entire time contemplating his carryon and the manila envelop tucked inside, literally looming above him. How had it come to this and what would handing those papers to Blaine mean?
It was Brimley’s first day. Mere hours after the first group meeting, Kurt had summoned him and Brimley was now seated across from Kurt, patiently rehashing details from the production timeline to the transport used to import the silk. Forty-three minutes later, Kurt’s newest and most inane question yet was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Tiffany! I swear!”
“Forgive me. Tiffany wasn’t at her desk, so I just came on in,” Kurt would know that voice anywhere. A gelled head emerged from behind the door. “Hi there,” Blaine said with a smile. Then, noticing the suit in the room, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting.”
“Hey you,” Kurt grinned. “Not a problem. Blaine, this is Brimley. He’s producing the Legend Line and dealing with my insanity.”
“Welcome to my world, Brimley.” Blaine laughed, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” replied Brimley with a polite nod.
“I’ll be done shortly. Then dinner?” Kurt asked.
“Then dinner. I’ll just go bother the worker bees.”
“They’ll love that.” Kurt smiled.
“Good to meet you, Brimley,” Blaine offered again before exiting.
“And you.” Brimley turned his attention back to Kurt. “Was that the lucky Mr. Hummel?”
“Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected. “Yes.”
“He’s cute.”
“I know.”
“You’re cuter.” Brimley smiled.
“Umm…Thank you,” Kurt managed. “Well…so…what were we talking about?”
“The brand of thread we’re using for inseams, sir.”
Brimley Johnston 9:43pm
Why are you still in your office?
The Boss 9:46pm
The same reason you are. Working.
Brimley Johnston 9:47pm
Clearly, I’m not doing my job.
The Boss 9:49pm
What do you mean? You’re doing a
wonderful job.
Brimley Johnston 9:50pm
If I were, you wouldn’t be here.
The Boss 9:53pm
I’m over anal
Brimley Johnston 9:54pm
Hmmm. I could help with that.
The Boss 9:54pm
Analyzing! Over analyzing. Fucking
autocorrect.
Brimley Johnston 9:55pm
The former is more interesting.
The Boss 10:17pm
Goodnight, Brimley.
Brimley Johnston 10:18pm
Goodnight, Mr. Hummel.
The Boss 10:19pm
Anderson-Hummel.
Brimley Johnston 10:23pm
Of course.
If only Kurt had had one less meeting, or spent one less minute being an anal retentive perfectionist, maybe he would not be standing in his office being made to feel decidedly uncomfortable under the gaze of Brimley’s green eyes.
“Kurt?”
“Yes, Brimley? I’m busy,” Kurt responded brusquely, pointedly avoiding eye contact.
“I’m sorry for last night,” Brimley whispered sincerely.
“Good,” Kurt finally commented. “It was inappropriate.”
“I know. It won’t happen again. Let me make it up to you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Brimley. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Really, Kurt. Let me take you to dinner.” Brimley offered.
“Brimley! What don’t you underst—“
“No, not like that,” Brimley tried to explain. “It would be purely professional. We can start over and you can ask all the nitpicky questions you’d like.”
“Fine, Brimley. Fine. We’ll have dinner.”
***
Blaine was moaning lightly and Kurt had just begun to inch Blaine’s shirt from his pants when Kurt’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
“Ugh, who would be trying to contact you so late?” Blaine asked.
“I don’t know,” Kurt said, slightly intrigued. Blaine, eyes still closed, reached out blindly for the coffee table. Finally grasping the phone, he passed it behind his head to Kurt. Phone in hand, Kurt stared at the new text message.
Brimley 10:34pm
Dinner? Monday after work. Purely
professional.
Kurt looked down at Blaine beneath him, sighed deeply, thumbed out his response, and tossed the phone lightly back onto the coffee table.
“Who was that?” Blaine asked.
“No one.” Kurt paused, “Just Tiffany letting me know I have a late meeting on Monday. Looks like I’ll have to miss dinner.”
…that had been the first lie.
The first few dinners had been purely professional…until dinner turned into dinner and drinks.
They sat in a corner booth. The lights were dim.
“So, how did you end up with Mr. Anderson?” Brimley asked.
“Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected.
“Naturally.”
“We met in high school.”
“Ahh, high school sweethearts. How charming.”
“Yes. He is very charming,”
“As are you.”
“Stop, Brimley.”
“No. You need to learn to take a compliment.” Brimley leaned forward. “I get it. You’ve been with the same guy basically all your life. Other men see you, and want you, but they’re too intimidated to approach you, and you’re too caught up in Prince Charming to notice them noticing. You’re not used to being pursued. It’s understandable but unacceptable.”
Kurt had known he should have ended it then. But, he enjoyed too much the feeling of being pursued…especially because he thought he would never get caught. So dinner and drinks quickly turned into just drinks and Kurt never noticed that Brimley was gaining on him.
They were at the bar. Again. Brimley’s hand was on Kurt’s knee. Again.
“I like you.” Brimley let his hand drift up Kurt’s thigh.
“I know.” Kurt removed Brimley’s hand from his thigh.
“And you like the attention.” Brimley leaned in.
“And what if I do?” Kurt asked, lifting his chin.
“Liking the attention isn’t a problem, especially since I like giving it. But you should ask yourself why you’re here bathing in my attentions and not at home with your Prince Charming.”
In the months since Blaine had left, Kurt had searched his brain and heart for an answer. The one he settled on wasn’t pleasant but it was true: he had been stupid and selfish, seeking a little “innocent” excitement outside his daily routine. Kurt had convinced himself that what he had been doing wasn’t so wrong…wasn’t really cheating, because he had left his heart at home, so it was never in danger. But now Kurt knew he should have never left home.
He had been in Brimley’s apartment that night. He should have never gone.
Kurt had been fairly tipsy after their few drinks at the bar and had gotten into a cab with Brimley, thinking he’d be dropped off at the train station, pay his half, and Brimley would continue on his way. When they instead pulled up outside of Brimley’s apartment, Kurt had protested.
“Come on, Kurt. It’s no big deal. You need to sober up a bit before heading home anyway. Wouldn’t want Mr. Hummel to think you’ve been drinking on the job.”
“Mr. Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected with a huff, still not leaving the taxi.
“Seriously, Kurt. Just for a bit. I’ll put on some coffee and show you some secret sketches I stole from the Dior vault.”
Kurt gasped with scandalized excitement, “You stole from the House of Dior!”
Brimley laughed and extended his hand to help Kurt from the taxi, “No. They let me have them. But they’re secret all the same.”
Kurt was halfway to Brimley’s door muttering something about minutes and coffee and oh my God Dior by the time Brimley paid the cabdriver.
Upstairs, standing in the living room of Brimley’s condo, Kurt clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet.
“Come on,” Brimley called as he headed into the kitchen. “I won’t bite.”
Kurt made his way slowly to the kitchen, trying not to drunkenly stumble and also taking note of the exits: he liked the attention, but had no intentions of getting physical. He arrived in the kitchen just as Brimley was putting on a pot of coffee.
“I’ll go grab the sketches,” Brimley said. “They’re in the bedroom…if you want to join me.” He winked.
“No thanks,” Kurt scoffed with a flick of his wrist. “I’m fine right here.”
“Indeed you are.” Brimley mused, disappearing down the hallway.
Once Brimley returned, he handed Kurt a cup of coffee, cradled the sketchbook, and used his free hand to guide Kurt into the living room by the small of his back. At the sensation, Kurt sped up a bit, breaking contact.
Kurt let Brimley sit down first and then sat far enough away to be safe yet not awkward. Minutes later Kurt was literally bouncing in his seat. No doubt a combination of the caffeine and sheer excitement over the Dior sketches.
“Oh, you’ll love this next one,” Brimley said, scooting closer to Kurt on the couch. “It just barely missed the collection, but I’m sure you’ll still recognize it.”
“Oh my God!” Kurt basically screeched. “You can’t be serious! This—this is basically the foundation for Dior’s entire previous spring collection!” Kurt ran his fingers along the page with reverence. “The lines. What I wouldn’t give to be able to create like this.”
“But you do, Kurt,” Brimley hummed, placing his hand on Kurt’s thigh. “You’re incredibly talented and your designs are as flawless as you are.”
Kurt tensed and avoided eye contact. “Th-thank you.”
“Is something wrong, Kurt?” Brimley breathed. “Mmmm, I see…how long has it been since you’ve been touched like this?” Brimley’s hand started to rise up Kurt’s thigh and Kurt grabbed it.
“Brimley, I…”
It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. Kurt needed to stop this, but what could he say? He had let this go on for months—the compliments, the innuendos, the dinners, the drinks. And now he’d gotten tipsy and followed Brimley up to his condo. In the back of his mind, Kurt had always known it would lead to this, that in any game of cat and mouse the mouse either stopped offering itself up or would eventually be caught.
“Shhh, I know he’s neglected you.” Brimley suddenly palmed Kurt’s crotch and whispered, “Does he touch you like this?”
Kurt was on his feet in seconds. “I have to go.”
Brimley chased Kurt to the door. “Kurt, what’s wrong?”
“You know what’s wrong, Brimley. I’m married. And Blaine doesn’t neglect me.” Kurt heard his voice break and swiped, embarrassed, at the tears suddenly on his face.
“You say that. But there’s a reason you’re here.”
”I shouldn’t have come here. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Curled in the backseat of the cab, Kurt felt dirty. He needed to be home. He needed a shower. He needed Blaine.
It had to end today.
“Tiffany,” Kurt called into the speaker, “have Brim—Mr. Johnson meet me in my office for lunch.”
Brimley was nothing if not punctual. He came strolling in at exactly 12 o’clock.
“Can’t even wait for dinner, hmm?” Brimley said, strutting confidently into Kurt’s office and stalking across the room toward him. Kurt rose instinctively and defensively from his seat.
“Brimley, we need to talk,” Kurt tried.
“We need to do more than talk,” Brimley teased as he closed the distance between them. Kurt found himself retreating until his back was up against the glass of his windows.
“I’m tired of chasing you,” Brimley whispered into Kurt’s ear, “boosting your ego.” Brimley, only inches separating he and Kurt, placed his lips where Kurt’s jaw met his neck. Kurt pressed his palms against Brimley’s chest and pushed him away.
“We can’t. I can’t!” Kurt said as forcefully as possible.
“He doesn’t have to know,” Brimley pressed, pushing against Kurt’s hands.
“I’ll know! So, he’ll know. It will kill him. And that will kill me.”
“Stop fighting this, Kurt. You know you want this.”
“And that’s bad enough!” Kurt nearly yelled as he pushed Brimley away. “You have to go. Just get out!”
He went.
Kurt collapsed into his chair and dropped his head in his hands. How could he fix this if Brimley wouldn’t listen to him? Kurt felt like he had caused this. He didn’t feel as if he could even blame Brimley for his behavior because Kurt had led him on for so long. Brimley was tired of the chase and he wanted the prize to which he felt entitled. Kurt had to find a way out of this unscathed.
“Kurt!” Tiffany ran into the room. “Are you alright? I heard yelling.”
“No.” Kurt sniffled.
Tiffany dropped to her knees beside Kurt’s chair and began gently rubbing his back. He might be her boss, but they were friends first. She had been there at his very first boutique and she knew him well enough to know that he didn’t need an employee right now. Kurt needed a friend.
“Kurt, love, what happened?”
Kurt shook his head in his hands.
“Brimley?”
Kurt nodded his head, still not lifting his head from his hands.
“You…you tried to end it?”
“There is nothing to end!” Kurt insisted through his hands, still not looking up.
“Kurt.” Tiffany pressed.
Kurt’s head snapped up. “Fine! There’s….there’s…something, but it’s not like that, we never even—”
“Had sex?” Tiffany finished.
“No! Of course not! We didn’t even kiss. I don’t even want to kiss him.”
“You just wanted the attention and none of the consequences.” Tiffany stated it softly but the truth knocked the wind out of Kurt.
He could barely speak. “Ho-how do you…?”
“I know you, Kurt. You’ll never want anyone but Blaine, but you’re afraid no one wants you but Blaine.” Tiffany took both of Kurt’s hands in her own. “Which, honestly, Kurt…I’ve never really understood. Even if Blaine was the only person on the planet that wanted you, you’d still be the luckiest man on the planet. You’re the person that the person you love most loves the most. Hell, that’s more than I can say for me and my cat. She doesn’t look at me the way she looks at Fancy Feast.”
Silent tears ran down Kurt’s cheeks and his lips spread into an embarrassed line.
“It’s okay. We all want a little excitement and even danger once in a while.”
Kurt nodded.
“But next time you feel the need for some adventure, maybe go on a vacation or skydiving or something. And whatever you do, take Blaine with you.”
Kurt cracked a smile and actually giggled. “I-I will. I promise.”
“Good. Now I’m gonna get you some tissues while you pull yourself together and then we’re gonna figure out a way to fix this. Even if it means injecting Wilfred T. Brimley with a lethal dose of diabetes.”
Kurt laughed out loud.
“Seriously, what the hell kinda name is Brimley?” Tiffany turned to go, but not before muttering, “…the bastard.”
***
“Okay, so you know what to do?”
“Yes, Tiffany,” Kurt sighed.
“And if that doesn’t work, you take the next step okay.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously, just text me, and I’ll have it done in minutes.”
“Thanks, Tiffany,” Kurt smiled. “Now, if you could please leave me alone to do this?”
“Alright, but I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
Kurt chuckled and shooed her away with a wave of his hand. Then, he was alone with his thoughts and his phone. He took a deep breath and thumbed out the necessary texts.
The Boss 4:16pm
Drinks tonight?
Brimley Johnson 4:18pm
Purely professional?
The Boss 4:22pm
No…
Brimley Johnson 4:23pm
What time?
The Boss 4:26pm
7pm
Next. Blaine. No matter what, no lies. No more lies.
Kurt 4:30pm
The imbeciles I let organize this
weekend’s show have ruined my brilliant
vision. I’ll be home late tonight.
Kurt 4:32pm
I’m sorry.
Hubby 4:33pm
Don’t worry about it, Kurt. I’ll leave some
of T & B’s creation in the oven for you.
They’re excited about cooking tonight.
Hubby 4:34pm
I’m afraid of what will happen
without you…
Kurt 4:41pm
Oh, I forgot it’s their night…wait
Hubby 4:43pm
If you need to stay, you need to stay.
New line, new show. We understand.
We’ll miss you.
Kurt 4:47pm
Miss you too.
He hated to miss dinner, but it wasn’t for the show—it was for something even more important: his family. He had to do this. Tonight.
***
Kurt sat in the restaurant fidgeting at his table. He preferred booths, but he needed to ensure Brimley would keep a respectful distance—Kurt on one side of the table, Brimley on the other. All to soon, Brimley sauntered up to the table and took a seat opposite Kurt. Brimley grabbed the drink menu.
“What’s your poison tonight?”
“I won’t be drinking and neither will you.”
“Why so professional? I thought we were going to get…personal.” Brimley let the last word roll off his tongue suggestively.
“Oh, trust me.” Kurt said, seriously. “This is personal.”
“You’re a tough cookie to crack, Kurt.”
Kurt leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers together. “That’s because I never intend to let you get near this fortune.”
Brimley sat back and crossed his arms and legs. “Playing hard to get again, I see. I like it.”
“No, Brimley. I let this go on for far too long and it ends right now. I don’t want you. I never did. I love my husband.”
“Yeah, you were certainly loving him in my apartment last night and in your office today.”
“Last night was my mistake, and today was yours.” Kurt fired back. “And neither of us will be making anymore mistakes. It ends right now.”
“What if I don’t want it to? What if I was just starting to have fun?”
“Brimley,” Kurt took a breath and decided to take the next step. “We will have a strictly professional relationship or we won’t have one at all.”
“Now, tell me why I’m having a hard time believing that, Kurt.” Kurt felt something on his ankle. When he realized it was Brimley’s foot, he nearly fell backward in the chair in his haste to stand up. He recovered quickly, snatched his coat from the back of his chair and commenced a storm out of which even Rachel Berry would have been proud.
“Kurt!” Brimley stood and grabbed Kurt’s passing wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m late for dinner.” Kurt spat, snatching his hand away.
“We’re at dinner, Kurt!” Brimley, suddenly aware of their surroundings, lowered his voice to a whisper. “Sit down and have a drink with me.”
“No. You are alone. And I am late for dinner. With. My. Family.” Kurt turned and left and, for once, Brimley didn’t chase.
Thankfully, the fashion show had gone off without a hitch and Kurt had not so much as had to talk to Brimley. Now, if he could only make it through the after party without a scene. He had texted Tiffany and given her the go ahead on his way home from his failed “dinner” with Brimley. Kurt thought Brimley might retaliate, he just didn’t know how, but he knew he couldn’t let it involve his family. So, even though all he wanted to do was hug tight to Blaine and hold his children, he stayed far away from them so as not to tempt Brimley.
Finally, after hours of press, hugs, and handshakes, the crowd was dwindling. Soon, Kurt thought, soon I’ll be back home with my family and this will be over. He chanced a glance over to where he knew Blaine was waiting. That moment was all Brimley needed.
“You’re firing me?” Brimley was somehow inches away from Kurt, directly in his face, begging for a confrontation. Kurt steeled himself. When he spoke, his voice was calm and conversational.
“I told you we would have a professional relationship or we wouldn’t have one at all.” Kurt breathed, trying and failing to not let his discomfort show on his face.
“In an email, Kurt? You have your secretary send me an email with a link to an advertisement for my job? You call that professional?”
“If I recall correctly, at our recent dinner it was you who decided we couldn’t have a professional relationship. I simply acted in kind.”
“Well, how about I act in kind? Is that Blaine over there?” At Brimley’s words, Kurt tensed and darted his eyes to where Blaine was standing, thankfully locked in conversation with Tiffany. “Oh, and the kids too?” Brimley continued, the threat clear in his voice. “I’m sure they’d love to hear about just how professional you’ve been with me.”
Brimley leaned back from Kurt as if to make his move toward Blaine. Kurt had to play the last card he had left.
“If you want a recommendation you’ll do no such thing,” Kurt rushed, all the words coming on one breath.
“What?” Brimley’s eyes went wide. Finally, it seemed Kurt had caught and passed Brimley for once.
“You heard me, Brimley.” It was Kurt who moved forward this time, closing the space between them to a whisper. “If you ever want to work in this industry again, you’ll fulfill your final duties as Product Development Manager, you will pack your things, and you will go. Quietly.”
They stood in the silence, Brimley fuming and Kurt doing his best to withstand the heat.
Suddenly, Brimley gripped Kurt’s arm and tugged Kurt forward so that Brimley’s lips were at Kurt’s ear. “You can get rid of me, but you won’t escape the consequences, Kurt. Look at him standing over there.” Brimley strengthened his grip and shook Kurt’s arm. “Such a dutiful husband and father to your kids. He’s never loved or wanted anyone else but you, and how do you repay him? When you were in my house, letting me feel you up,” Brimley kissed Kurt’s ear. “You said he didn’t deserve this. But you were wrong. You don’t deserve him. I just hope I’m around when he figures it out.”
Kurt turned out of Brimley’s grip and stormed off, hopefully appearing more strong and righteous than he felt. Kurt no longer cared about making a scene. He had to leave.
Blaine caught Kurt’s arm. “Kurt?”
Kurt did not stop. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. Are you ready?”
“Yes, umm, is everything okay?” Blaine asked.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure? That guy—“
“He’s nobody.”
Kurt tried his best to put on a smile and cheery attitude for the kids, but he knew he was failing…as a father, as a husband.
Blaine turned to go retrieve their coats and Kurt called into the distance. “Blaine? Thank you…for waiting.”
Blaine gave him a sidelong glance and a sad sort of smile. “Of course.”
Kurt had to tell him. Brimley was right, Blaine didn’t deserve this and Kurt didn’t deserve Blaine. The least Kurt could do was muster the courage to tell Blaine the truth and let him decide for himself if he wanted to continue to live less than the life he deserved on less than the love he had earned because Kurt was less than the husband he’d promised.
***
Kurt had finally gotten out of bed and come to work. However, and somewhat predictably, he’d only managed to sit at his desk with his back to the door and stare out of his windows at the New York skyline wondering where Blaine was and if he was ever coming back. Tiffany came in to bring him lunch and water, but other than that, he wanted to be left alone.
He heard his door open and footsteps signal someone’s entrance.
“Tiffany, please,” Kurt whispered, his voice hoarse with grief.
“It’s not Tiffany, it’s me.”
That voice made Kurt want to vomit. Kurt didn’t turn to face him. “Leave, Brimley.”
“I just wanted to apologize for my behavior at the after party.”
“Leave.”
“It’s just, I’ve had some time to think and you were right and I was wrong and if you’re still willing to give me a recommendation—“
“Get out. Please.” Kurt’s last word was more of a beg than he wanted to admit. Thankfully, he heard retreating footsteps.
“Uh, Kurt…I-I’m sorry about Blai—“
“No you aren’t!” Kurt cut in, not wanting to hear Blaine’s name in Brimley’s voice.
“I know you can’t believe me right now, but I am sorry and if I can help in any—“
“You’ve done enough.” Kurt couldn’t hide the defeat in his voice. “Please, Brimley, just finish up your paperwork and go.”
He did.
Kurt had told Blaine the details of his indiscretions. Kurt just hoped Blaine would stick around long enough to let him redeem himself, prove himself worthy.
“Is that all?”
“No.” Here was Kurt’s chance. He took a breath. “I invited him to drinks that night to--”
“Wait. Wednesday night?”
“Yes, but--” I told him it was over, Kurt wanted to finish.
“Let me get this straight.” Blaine took a shuddering breath. “You carried on a…a relationship, with another man for months. That man tried to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him. So you took him to drinks instead of spending the night with your husband and eating the dinner your children made?”
Kurt looked into Blaine’s tearful eyes and searched for a way to ease his pain. “Yes, Blaine. But I needed to know…” that Brimley would leave us alone.
“Know what, Kurt? What’s there to know except that I love you? That was always enough for me. Why am I never enough for you?”
“It’s not about whether you’re enough,” Kurt pleaded.
“Then what is it Kurt? Please tell me so that I can know. So that the next time you leave, I can understand why.”
Why was Blaine so good at pushing Kurt’s buttons? Why was Kurt so bad at admitting when the button pressed was the truth?
“I didn’t leave Blaine. You did!”
“I left because you left!”
“I left because I wanted you to chase me, but you didn’t even notice I was gone!”
“Well, Kurt, forgive me if I was too busy raising our kids to worry about you
fulfilling your cat and mouse fantasies.”
“Why don’t you ever fight for me, Blaine? Pursue me?”
“Why do you run?” Blaine nearly yelled. There it was—the question that had been hanging in the air for years, finally spoken aloud.
Watching Blaine leave the coffee shop that day, Kurt finally knew the answer. Could he find the courage to reveal it?
***
In the aftermath of the disastrous coffee shop conversation, Kurt lay on Blaine’s side of the bed, crying and trying to gather the courage to fix it. Suddenly, his phone was ringing. It had to be Blaine; he was finally calling. Kurt frantically grabbed the phone, jamming the phone to his ear and choking out, “Blaine? Oh God, I’m so glad you ca—“
“Kurt?”
“Bri-Brimley?”
“Hello, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“I’m sure,” Kurt tried for an air of superiority. “Please, just get to the point, Brimley. I’m in the middle of something.”
“It certainly sounds like it,” Brimley remarked. “Anyway, in order to bring a close to our professional relationship, I need to compile and submit the final numbers to the manufacturer so the Legend Line can be produced to full capacity.”
“Okay?” Kurt said, confused. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because you had the papers last, if I’m not mistaken. You took them home to look over them.”
“Sorry, you’re right,” Kurt said, remembering. “I do have them. I’ll bring them into the office on Monday. Goodb—“
“Actually, Kurt,” Brimley interrupted. “I was hoping to get them this weekend. It’s fairly time sensitive, as you know.”
“Fine,” Kurt gave in. “I’ll drop them off at the office and you can pick them up.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I can just come get them from you, maybe tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Kurt rushed. “Plus, tomorrow is bad. Blaine’s coming by to get the kids in the morning and I’ll be busy all day. It’s already a stretch for me to get the papers to the office.”
“It would only take a second,” Brimley pressed.
“No, Brimley. Either I can bring them into the office tomorrow, or you can wait until Monday.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Fine. I should be able to make it into the City around noon. I’ll drop them off then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Brimley.”
“Goodbye.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Kurt demanded.
“I came to get the papers, Kurt,” Brimley said, calmly stepping, uninvited, over the threshold. “I had to leave the City anyway to see a friend, so I figured I’d stop by and save you the trip.” Brimley was actually grinning.
“You’re a liar. I know exactly why you’re here,” Kurt spat. “How could I have been so stupid?” It all suddenly clicked together: Brimley’s words at the after party, his faux concern days later, his phone call the night previous. “You know Blaine is coming and you decided you’d just drop in, didn’t you?”
“Oh, is he coming?” Brimley feigned ignorance. “I take it he’s not here yet. Pity…”
“Good God, Brimley. I’d heard things and I had suspicions, but this is too much. I’m onto you.”
“Onto me?” Brimley chuckled, “Really, Kurt?” Brimley sauntered into Kurt’s physical space.
“Back up, Brimley. Don’t you dare move,” Kurt ordered, his extended index finger inches from Brimley’s chest. “You’re going to stand right here while I go get the papers. Then, you’re going to get the hell out of my house and my life. Do you understand?”
He couldn’t have been gone for more than four minutes. Four minutes was all it took for his plans to rebuild the rubble of his life to collapse into ash. Kurt had let Blaine walk into their home and find another man with their children. It didn’t matter that Kurt had planned to talk to Blaine, to fix things. It didn’t matter that Brimley had engineered this, apparently one step ahead of Kurt the entire time, not only manipulating Kurt, but also Tori. All that mattered was that Kurt had allowed this, caused this, with his thoughtlessness.
Kurt had driven Blaine away and made him believe Kurt didn’t love him.
***
Mercedes and Rachel had finally left and Kurt was sitting alone among the debris. His frantic search for the divorce papers had destroyed the tiny office. Kurt was trying to clean the room, but in actuality was just shuffling papers and knick-knacks aimlessly across the floor, like a child rearranging their vegetables on the plate to avoid truly eating them.
Kurt took a deep shuddering breath and felt a calm come over him as the familiar scent of magnolia surrounded him. His eyes fell instinctively on the top drawer of the old oak dresser in the corner, its top-drawer carelessly thrown open in his rampage. He crawled toward his mother’s scent, and leaned on the dresser for support as he pulled himself up to standing. Kurt made to close the drawer but something caught his eye—a yellowing folded scrap of paper, forgotten in the back of the drawer. His fingers were gentle as he worked the paper’s folds, bending it open. Kurt could barely hear his inner voice reading the words over his quickened heartbeat. Somehow, in Kurt’s soul, he knew the words echoing in his mind held the answer—these words were he and Blaine’s roadmap back home, back to each other. He clutched the tiny paper to his chest, rested his head on the top of the dresser, and breathed into the top drawer. “Thank you, Mom. I love him too.”
***
“Papa,” Tori gently shook Kurt’s arm, “are you ready?”
The plane had finally landed in Ohio and it was mostly empty except for a few other parents and their children.
“Yes, sweetie.”
Tori hopped out of her seat and bounced in the aisle, restless after sitting the entire flight.
“Hold your brother for a second while I grab our bags.” Kurt handed Bertie and his bag to Tori and retrieved her tiny purple suitcase and his larger carry on (they’d checked Bertie’s stroller at the gate).
“What about that other bag, Papa?” Tori asked, pointing to a messenger back still in the overhead compartment. “Is that ours too?”
“Yes, sweetie.” Kurt gingerly grabbed the bag and looped it over his shoulder, patting it gently where he knew it held the papers that would make or break their little family. “Yes, it is.”