DAY 1

The apartment building is old and city-grimed. Some of the grouting is crumbling between the bricks and there are small strings of green leaves woven up the walls and into the cracks. The paint on the frames and sills of the windows is peeling in some cases, covered up by cheerful window boxes in others.

One particular window, with a bright array of flowers perched outside it, is really no different from the rest. Its only distinct feature is the promise of what is inside, past the glass which frosts up in the winter. It is clear now, occasionally mugging in the stick of summer. One glance in gives a glimpse of a desk scattered with pages, a mug, trinkets, memories and words.

Creativity, then, is what dwells inside. You can imagine from that sliver the whole apartment stretching out around it: there is a bed, as of yet unmade, and a kitchen with a good colour scheme and a notebook on the table. There are family photographs and pictures of the city; cushions which are more comfortable than stylish on the couch and a small crack in the paintwork near the ceiling which really should be fixed.

The New York air is pressing at the windows. Quarter to eleven in the morning.

---

Blaine started a new folder: Articles Holly Will Never Let Me Publish. With a sigh, he saved How to Make an Egalitarian Society People Can Believe In into it.

He loved his job. He loved his colleagues, his friends, and his crazy boss. He loved the ride he took on the subway every morning and afternoon and the way it made him feel like a real New Yorker to sway with all the others. He just wanted more, sometimes. There were greater things to explore in the world of journalism than shoes and handbags and how to Feng Shui your apartment.

Blaine took a last look at his article’s final line and closed it, putting his feet up on his desk. He tapped the pad of his index finger against his lips as he stared at the photo on his desk: his first day in New York; his first visit to Times Square as a native. He’d stumbled in backwards, not realising where he was in all the excitement. He’d turned around and stopped still when he had noticed the instantly identifiable towering buildings, flashing screens and crush of people. He had lifted his camera, clutched in his hand like a tourist’s, and snapped the photograph. It wasn’t any greater than every other photograph of Times Square, but he could feel the ghost of that thrill wash over him every time he glanced at it.

The buzzing of his phone pulled him out of his haze and he grabbed it.

“Where are you?” Mercedes said without preamble.

Blaine slumped further back in his chair in groaned. “Can’t I just work from home today?”

“Hell no. We have a staff meeting in…” A time-checking pause. “Forty-five and your ass better be here. Also, I think Rachel might be having another breakdown.”

“Oh, god, what happened?”

“What always happens?”

Blaine grunted and pulled himself out of his seat. He padded over to his wardrobe, dropping his sweatpants and pulling his t-shirt awkwardly over his head while still holding the phone to his ear. There was an almost painful dance between his elbow and a sleeve, but he managed it. “Do you think Holly will actually let me do this article? And do you want me to get croissants as well as coffee?”

“No and yes. And maybe a Danish. If Rachel’s still in bed, she’ll need all the pastries she can have to stop her wallowing.”

“I hate this job sometimes.” Blaine pulled a pair of slacks on with one hand, having to steady himself on the wardrobe as he nearly toppled over. “I’ve worked hard on this article and I think people would be interested in it, so why can’t they use it?”

“Put me on speaker.”

“What?” Blaine fumbled with the zip. “Why?”

“I can hear you struggling from here and I don’t want you getting a head injury before you buy my coffee.”

Blaine laughed and put her on speaker phone, laying his phone on the desk and putting on the rest of his clothes with greater ease.

“Look, Blaine, you went into this job knowing what they wanted you to write. You’re Blair Anderson, How To “Girl” and you have to deal with it. I’m one hundred percent behind you looking for a job that lets you write what you want, but you gotta push through it for now.”

Blaine huffed, doing up a final button. “Oh, stop being so wise and get Rachel out of her cocoon, will you?”

“Love you, too, Blaine.” A click and she was gone.

---

Rachel stumbled when she climbed out of the taxi. Mercedes paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk while Rachel fell into Blaine’s chest, wrapping her arms around him with a sigh that was dangerously close to a sob.

“Why does this always happen to me?”

“You would not believe the effort it took to make her get dressed. She kept telling me there was no point.” Mercedes rolled her eyes at Blaine and patted Rachel’s shoulder.

“Come on, Rachel,” Blaine coaxed, guiding her towards their building’s doors and pressing coffee and a Danish into her hand. “We have a staff meeting, remember? You can pull yourself together for that and we’ll talk afterwards.”

“It was going so well!” she wailed, tripping a little over her own feet and biting viciously into the pastry as she walked. “It was like my life was one beautiful romantic movie. He made me feel so much.”

“I know, Rach, I know,” he said, stroking her hair.

She took a large gulp of coffee, and then winced as it burned her mouth and throat. “I couldn’t stop myself from telling him. It was too perfect.”

“What did you do?” Mercedes asked, looking at her with a resigned expression.

“I told him I loved him, of course. Oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s how I felt. It was so beautiful!”

“After how long?” Blaine asked.

“Three days? Or… maybe two?” They had crossed the lobby and stepped into an elevator. “I just… But then everything started going wrong. He wasn’t around and I kept calling him but he was never picking up.”

“You kept calling him?” Mercedes said, looking at her with something nearing on despair. “Seriously, girl?”

“He never picked up! He can’t have known it was me, anyway. I have my number blocked.”

Mercedes and Blaine shared a look, but the elevator doors opened on their floor at that moment, so they chose not to say anything.

“I know some men may find my exciting personality demanding at times, but I really thought this one…” She stopped walking. “I thought this one would work out.”

They crowded around her, wrapping her up in a three-way hug. “You’ll find someone, Rachel,” Blaine murmured. “There’s someone out there for everyone. Don’t forget that.”

Rachel sighed and leaned her head on Mercedes’ shoulder.

“Come on,” Mercedes said, pulling back and standing Rachel up straight. “Pull yourself together. It’s time to see Miss Holliday.”

---

Holly ushered them all into her writers’ circle, passing out glow bracelets because she’d bought them in bulk in a moment of inebriation and wasn’t sure what else to do with them. She sat in her large chair at the head of the room with crossed legs and went through each columnist, checking up on their progress.

“Mercedes, how are you getting on?”

“I’m working on that article about the new power plate sneakers that vibrate while you work out and help you lose weight faster,” Mercedes explained, looking around the room. The women and two men all looked up at her appreciatively. “They’re kind of amazing,” she said with a bright smile. “Like Fitflops, but better.” There was a mumble of positivity from the group of writers.

“Vibrating plates in your shoes? Awesome,” Holly said. “I should get one of those. Though I think they’d ever leave my bedroom, if you get what I mean.”

The room winced. Blaine snorted and tried to pass it off as a cough. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mercedes holding back a grin. Holly was fun, if completely inappropriate and insane.

“Blaine, my favourite girl-with-a-schlong, what are you working on?”

“Um.” Blaine coughed again, still slightly overcome with mirth. “Something a bit different, if that’s okay.”

“Depends what kind of different.”

“Nothing outrageous.”

“Damn. I was really looking forward to hearing what hobbit people get up to in their little hill-houses. They’re like burrows. Full of dark corridors for doing dark deeds.”

Blaine stared at her, completely at a loss for what to say.

“God,” Holly chastised, seemingly to herself, “that was mean. And seriously inappropriate.” She flicked back to him. “What is it, then?”

“It’s about LGBT rights—”

“No.”

“—and male-female equality, Holly, please—”

“No, Blaine.” She sighed. “I hate doing this to you. I’m sorry, but you know that’s not what Haute is about. We’re fashion trends, diets, sex and gossip. You know I’m a big supporter of equal rights, but I can’t do something that’s going to lose us advertisers.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. You’ll have to think of something else, okay?”

Blaine stared at the floor, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks. He nodded.

“Alright. Rachel.”

Rachel glanced up with red-rimmed eyes. “Holly, I… I’m sorry, I haven’t…”

“Rachel got dumped,” Mercedes supplied for her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Holly tilted her head, looking genuinely concerned. “Although, you may be going about it the wrong way.” She shrugged. “You’re kind of… frigid.”

“I-I—”

“Blaine. Here’s your new title. You can tell the world why acting the way Rachel does won’t get you a guy.”

Rachel turned to him with wide eyes.

“Holly, I can’t… I really can’t do that. It’s Rachel’s personal business.”

“You don’t have an article for this issue, Blaine, so unless you want me to cut your column I suggest you do this.”

Rachel was shaking her head frantically at him and Blaine could see the tears pooling in her eyes again, but Holly was watching him with a resigned expression.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Rachel tried to shout out in protest, but Mercedes gripped her arm and shook her head. “No, look, I’ll… I’ll sort of do it.” He really had no idea where he was going with this; he was just stumbling through words as they appeared in his mind. “Rachel’s got all sorts of things of going for her: she’s attractive, she’s funny, she’s kind-hearted. She… can be a little too ambitious sometimes, but that can be an attractive quality. To some people.” Rachel was staring at him, clearly not having a clue where he was about to take this. Someone was in the boat with him, then. “She does have a-a problem, though: guys never seem to stick with her. It’s going great for a little while and then, all of sudden, she’s leaving messages on his answering machine and not getting a reply.” He looked up at Holly and was relieved that she seemed to be interested in what he was struggling to articulate.

“I get women writing in about that all time,” said Sophie, resident agony aunt. “They’re completely mystified, poor things.”

“There,” Blaine said, gesturing to her. “You see? A lot of our readers have this problem. So, I just have to tell them how to… not. Have this problem.”

“Okay,” Holly said. “I’m liking it so far. How are you going to do it?”

“I…”

“There are things Rachel does,” Mercedes said, and Blaine almost reached out to hug her, “which drive guys away. Blaine just has to gather these and, well, try them out.”

“Like an experiment,” Holly said, nodding. “Yes. Blaine, you need to get yourself a guy and then scare him off using only Rachel-like methods of seduction.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay, I can do that.”

“You’ll have to act like a girl for ten days and not just write like one, but–”

“Ten days? Why ten?”

“A guy will stick out five days or a week if he thinks he might get sex and we go to press in eleven.” She slapped her hands on her knees. “Now all of you get out. I have a twelve o’clock appointment with an Aussiebum representative. I enjoy a bit of exhibitionism as much as the next girl, but all of you being here might intimidate him a little.”

---

“I have a problem, boys.” Shelby settled back in her chair. “I have a decision to make.”

“Do you really need us both here for this?”

“Sebastian, darling, when have I ever made you do anything unnecessarily?”

Kurt snorted and looked away from her, at their old classroom. Being back here was strange. All the memories were coming back. He could see the table where he’d slaved over his first design, crying and screaming at it through the night because it wasn’t good enough. He could remember finally being happy with it, then stumbling home and crying himself to sleep when Shelby told him she wouldn’t let her trash can wear it.

Sebastian shifted next to him, sliding his foot up Kurt’s leg under the desk.

Yes, this room held a lot of memories.

“Why are we here, Shelby?” He shot Sebastian a glare and got a smirk in return.

She sat up, propping her elbows on the table and interlocking her fingers: the sign that she meant business. Kurt straightened and crossed his legs the other way, moving away from Sebastian.

“The Kamikat Fashion Show. I’m on the committee. They’re offering one slot for an up and coming designer and the decision came down to the two of you.” She eyed each of them for a number of seconds. “The committee can’t make up their minds, so the glorious task is now mine. You can see why I need your help.”

There was silence. Kurt held his breath.

“Well, the decision’s easy, Shelby.” Sebastian stayed stretched back in his seat as he spoke, his effortless languor making Kurt want to rip his eyes out and fuck him all at once. “You pick the best designer.”

“And I suppose you think that’s you,” Kurt cut in.

“It’s not a question of thought. It’s just fact. Your designs are as straight-laced as a Catholic schoolgirl without the kinky knee socks, Hummel.” He turned to Shelby. “They have no passion in them. From the number of tears he shed in fashion school, you think his designs would come out with a little emotion, but I’ve been sadly disappointed. I don’t think I’ve seen clothes with less love in them. They’re like statues; the makings of a porcelain doll.”

“It’s sad my designs seem to be too erudite for your diminutive mind, Sebastian, but at least I have some sense of coherency. You’re all over the place to the extent that I don’t know how you’d presume to pull together a collection with any degree of sense to it. But you’ll take any type, won’t you?” His lips pulled back over his teeth as he smiled glassily at Sebastian. “Picking one design and sticking to it really isn’t your style.”

Sebastian hissed through his teeth, but his eyes were sparkling – he loved this. “Low blow, Kurt, even for you.”

Shelby clapped her hands. The two men held each other’s gaze for a moment longer. Kurt could hear his blood beating in his ears. Sebastian laughed and broke the contact, turning his attention to their former teacher.

“Fun as this is, it’s getting us nowhere. You have to prove each other wrong to have a hope of winning this slot.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, but Kurt beat him to it. “Love is inherent in all my designs, Shelby. You know that. I understand love, falling in love, and I can evoke those emotions in people.”

“You can make people fall in love?”

“Yes.”

“With your clothes, Kurt, or with you?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt faltered. “Ei-either one.”

Shelby smiled, and if Kurt didn’t know her so well he would have said it was gleeful. “How daring of you, Kurt.”

Kurt shrugged. “No. I’m just confident.”

“Well, there’s my decider, then.”

“What?” Sebastian and Kurt said in unison.

“Kurt, if you can bring a man who is desperately in love with you to the preview gala for the sponsor, you can have the slot.”

“But…” Kurt’s fingers gripped each other tightly. “The gala’s ten days from now. You want me to make someone fall in love with me that quickly?”

“You have ten minutes to make people fall in love with your clothes. I’m being positively generous.” She stood up and started to put on her coat. “I want both of you to have a completed preview outfit ready for the gala. I don’t need to tell you it has to be perfect.”

She had almost reached the door before either of them had the presence of mind to stop her. “Shelby.” Kurt span around in his chair and she paused, clutching the door handle. “What does Sebastian have to do?”

Shelby laughed. “Hope you lose.” She pulled the door open and turned to them before she stepped out. “And try not to… dabble in too many different styles.”

---

“You two could have defended me in there, you know.” Rachel pouted at them as she stirred sugar into her coffee.

“Rachel, we saved your skinny Jewish ass from having to write about your love life. I think you should be thanking us.”

“And I did try to defend you,” Blaine said. “I only repeated what you’ve been saying to me for ages. And I went on about how great you are so much I’m surprised Holly didn’t make some joke about my joining your fast for Yom Kippur turning me straight just so I had something I could eat.”

When neither of them replied, he looked up and found them staring at him in horror.

“Oh my god…”

“Blaine,” Rachel said. Then she snorted and threw a piece of biscotti at him. “That’s disgusting. You should not be allowed to spend time with that woman.” She looked at Mercedes, who broke into laughter with her.

“I heard that,” Holly called, her head gliding past the top of Blaine’s cubicle, where they were all sitting. “And Blaine.” She paused. “I’m impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Um… thank you.”

She left and there was silence for a moment. Then they all started laughing uncontrollably.

“Blaine, I am never—” she snorted—“I am never inviting you over for Yom Kippur again.”

---

The door of the classroom had barely closed before Sebastian was on him, running his fingers through his hair, pulling his head back.

“You said some awfully cruel things about me just then, Kurt,” Sebastian said, mouth brushing against Kurt’s neck. Kurt worked his hardest not to gasp at the catch of Sebastian’s bottom lip against the shell of his ear.

“You can take it.”

Sebastian chuckled and straddled one of Kurt’s legs, shoving his thigh between Kurt’s, pressing it right against his crotch. The small moan ripped from Kurt’s throat was not voluntary – Sebastian was so hot against him and he was breathing against his ear and fuck, how was he already hard?

“Shelby’s deal is fun,” Sebastian murmured, tracing his fingers around the outline of Kurt’s hard cock, “but I want to propose a better one. We’ll still keep to hers, of course, but this is just a little extra-curricular.”

Kurt tried to say something, but only a small whine fell from his lips.

“You want to fuck me, Kurt.” Kurt squirmed, trying to protest, but Sebastian shushed him. “I know you do. I see what it does to you, me and all those other boys. You hate it. So here’s my deal: you get this guy to fall in love with you, and you get to fuck me.”

Kurt moaned and his hips rutted against Sebastian’s thigh. He tilted his head and caught Sebastian’s eyes. His expression was cool but his pupils were blown black. Kurt wanted – no, needed this. He needed to bend Sebastian over Shelby’s desk and fuck him so hard he’d be feeling Kurt’s cock for a week.

“And if I lose?” His voice was raw, barely a croak.

Sebastian rocked his thigh roughly and Kurt’s back was arching. “Now that’s the fun bit,” Sebastian said. “You lose and you stop designing for a year.”

Kurt’s brain snapped back into focus. “What?”

“You heard me, Kurt,” Sebastian chuckled, licking up the column of Kurt’s throat. “You don’t release any new designs for twelve.” He nipped Kurt’s skin. “Whole.” Again. “Months.” He bit under Kurt’s ear, hard enough that it wasn’t really pleasurable.

“No. No, that’s not a fair deal.”

“How so? A year is a long time. That’s a big loss, sure. But this slot is the kind that slingshots a career, Kurt. Come on, you know that. I think a catapult to fame is bargain enough, without the cream and cherry of your cock in my ass.” He was still pushing against Kurt’s cock in rhythmic pulses.

God, Kurt needed to come. “Fine. Deal.”

“Thank you, Kurt.”

And then he was gone. Kurt was cold all over but still so, so hard and he heard the click of the door before he realised what had happened. “Oh, Smythe, you dick!”

---

Kurt went to fashion school a romantic.

New York was everything it had promised to be and more. It was bigger and brighter and the suits were sharper and the coffee was stronger. Kurt went into his first class with bright eyes and the skinniest jeans he owned because his new life wasn’t just about clothes and creating and taking over the fashion world one pair of bondage shorts at a time. It was about acceptance; about holding hands with the guy he liked; about finding love.

He’d spotted him immediately, sitting at a desk near the back. He was lounging back in his chair, the picture of uncaring sexuality, but Kurt could see the bright excitement in his eyes. This boy wanted to be here just as much as Kurt did and was ready start this new chapter of his life.

Kurt tried not to glance at him too often throughout the class, but it was a futile effort. He was packing up his things at the end (determinedly not looking back and feeling a flip in his stomach at the thought that maybe next time he could speak to him, then maybe there would be coffee, and maybe dates and maybe dare-he-think-it love) when a hand entered his vision. He glanced up and his breath caught in his throat because here he was, grinning and holding out his hand for Kurt to shake and he was even better up close. Kurt took the hand dazedly and tried not to swoon when the boy spoke.

“Hi, I’m Sebastian.”

---

From: The Meerkat
I get to pick the guy.

To: The Meerkat
Fuck no, Smythe. I’m not having one of your cast-off trolls.

From: The Meerkat
You wound me, Kurt. But yes, my deal, my rules.

To: The Meerkat
You’re a bitch.

From: The Meerkat:
Our angry sex would be so hot. I almost want you to win. Meet me at Clancy’s and we’ll find your lucky guy.

---

Blaine entered Clancy’s with butterflies in his stomach and Rachel talking his ear off with everything she’d read about this place.

“Jesse St. James from The Insider said it’s the only place to be in New York right now and we should all take advantage of this great—”

“You know, I’m fairly sure that guy’s gay,” Blaine said, “or a serious dick. I don’t know why you seem to be having this one-way love affair with him.”

“You know, Blaine,” she said, shoving him, sweaty-palmed and rabbit-hearted, through the bar’s doors, “you’re not very nice when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not—”

Mercedes patted his cheek. “Shut up and start searching.”

Rachel was leading them towards the bar, looking intently at every guy she passed, quite blatantly evaluating them.

“Rachel, do you think you could be a little more, I don’t know, subtle?”

“What are you talking about?” She leaned over to tell their orders to the barman, giving him a once-over as she did so.

“Never mind,” Blaine muttered. He looked around the room and tried to spot someone who was both gay and at least slightly appealing. The crush of people, while supplying him with more choice than he would normally get, made it very difficult to see anyone as an individual rather than part of a crowd. Rachel shoved a drink into his hand and he accepted it vaguely, taking a sip.

“How about that guy?” Mercedes asked, leaning into him so he could hear.

“Where?” Rachel called, immediately up on her toes and searching.

“By the bar. Green shirt, not the best hair, but workable.”

Blaine searched and found the guy in question. He was sort of cute, he guessed. “I’ll give it a go.” He grinned at them. “Wish me luck.”

---

Clancy’s was the watering hole for the upwardly mobile. There were suits on every bar stool, trying to chat up women in a hideous array of body con. Sebastian was lounging at a table on the edge of the crowd; a prime position for scanning and selecting.

“Let’s do this quickly, shall we?” Kurt said, dropping into the seat opposite him and ignoring the immediate advance of a foot up the inside of his leg. “I’d like to spend as little time with you as possible.”

Sebastian looked out at the room with a disinterested expression. “How about him?” He nodded to a burly man at the bar wearing an obviously faux-Armani suit.

Kurt just raised an eyebrow, waiting until Sebastian deigned to look at him again. When he did, he rolled his eyes, but there was a twitch of a smile on his lips. “Don’t be mean, Hummel.”

Kurt just stared him down.

“Fine. Serious choices now.”

“Good boy.”

“Don’t patronise me,” Sebastian drawled as he continued his perusal. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“And Dolce doesn’t suit you, but I don’t say that when you wear it, do I?”

“Blue shirt, talking to the girl in the pink abomination.”

“He’s straight.”

“Look at his hair and rethink that.”

“He’s got his hand on her ass.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “Okay, not him.”

“What about the brunet?”

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, Kurt, darling.”

“Don’t Shelby me. With the black girl and the hobbit in those god-awful tights. Curls, pretty eyes.”

Sebastian sat up a little and followed Kurt’s eye line. “You have better taste than I’ve given you credit for, Hummel. Take your country boy.”

Kurt stood, fully prepared to stalk off without another word, but Sebastian’s voice stopped him.

“Oh, and Kurt? Try not to break him too hard.”

---

“So how did you end up in New York?” Blaine stirred his drink and smiled shyly up from under his lashes. The girls told him on almost a daily basis how much they envied his “ridiculously long eyelashes, god, Blaine, cows would be jealous”, so he decided to put them to good use.

“I moved here with my girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend now.” His shoulders slumped and he turned to Blaine looking like he was about to cry. “She just went crazy and nothing I did was good enough any more. Why do girls do that?”

“I have no idea,” Blaine said, trying to find a way to escape the suddenly very uncomfortable conversation.

“Has that ever happened to you?”

“Can’t say it has, sorry.”

“Of course not. Look at you. You’re like some ’50s movie star. It’s guys like you they leave guys like me for.”

“Well, not guys quite like me, I’m sure. Sorry, um, I can see someone trying to hit on my girlfriend. I should go.” He was off the barstool and pushing through the people before the guy had a chance to reply.

“Straight and freshly dumped,” he reported when he reached the girls. They made noises of sympathy and Mercedes patted his arm before they started looking again. They pointed out a couple of guys, but Blaine vetoed each of them in turn. (“Straight, come on.” “Predatory gay, god no.” “Are you serious, Rachel? Did you actually think he would be my type?”)

“Nine o’clock,” Rachel hissed.

Blaine looked to his left.

“No, my nine o’clock. Three for you. He looks like he’s headed our way.”

Blaine took a moment to roll his eyes at her, then turned his attention to the alleged prospect. He spotted him immediately: he had such great presence he was practically radiant; his eyes were a piercing blue and staring right at Blaine as he moved through the crowd, people parting to make way for him.

Rachel and Mercedes had disappeared and Blaine was left alone, waiting for the man to reach him. He gave a tentative smile and received a grin in return.

“Hi.” There was little space between their bodies because of all the people, but a hand was extended to Blaine, which he took at once, praying to every deity that his palms weren’t clammy. “I’m Kurt Hummel.”

“Blaine Anderson.”

“Anderson?” A raised eyebrow. “Any relation to the How To girl?”

Blaine laughed, hoping it didn’t come across as shifty as it felt. “You read that column?”

“What good gay man doesn’t?” Kurt said with a small laugh that made Blaine’s stomach flip. He stepped a little closer and leaned in so his mouth was next to Blaine’s ear. “Did you read the one on the top ten interesting ways to give him an orgasm?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Kurt wanted to shove them back in. He was aiming for love, not a one-night stand, and questions like that were not the way to get there. He rocked back on his heels and saw Blaine blush, but with a sparkle in his eye.

“I did. You’ve got to wonder about the research that went into that. So many different positions.” He grinned. “So much come on your skin.”

Kurt was fairly positive he stopped breathing. Blaine Anderson was even better than expected. “No relation, then?”

“Buy me dinner and I might tell you.”

Kurt laughed and touched Blaine’s arm. “Deal. Grab your coat and meet me by the door.”

Blaine nodded and he was gone.

“So?” Mercedes had snuck up behind him and he jumped, bumping into Rachel. He turned to grin at them.

“I got one.”

---

“So tell me, Kurt, what do you do when you’re not picking up guys in fashionable bars?”

Kurt popped a piece of sushi into his mouth and considered Blaine while he chewed. “I’m a designer. Graduated from Parsons just over two years ago, so I’m still trying to break into the business properly, but there’s a big show coming up and if I get a slot in that…” He grinned. “Well, that could slingshot my career.”

“Oh?” Blaine got a piece of sushi between his chopsticks and lifted it a few inches before they slipped and it fell back onto his plate. He watched Kurt’s easy movements and wished he’d written an article on how to eat sushi without embarrassing yourself. “How are you going to get that?”

Kurt chuckled and picked up a piece of Blaine’s sashimi, holding it out to him. “I’m working on it right now.”

Blaine looked at the proffered piece of food and raised his eyebrows at Kurt. He only smiled in reply, eyes sparkling. Blaine rolled his eyes and allowed Kurt to feed it to him.

“And you?” Kurt said as Blaine chewed. “What do you do, mysterious Blaine?”

“Mysterious? Oh, I wouldn’t want to ruin an illusion like that by telling you.”

Kurt smiled, his nose crinkling up, and he fed Blaine another piece of sushi. Blaine took it despite the embarrassment because Kurt’s eyes were shining so brightly, so openly, and he didn’t want to deny him.

“I’ll have to guess, then.” Kurt rested his chin on his hand and examined Blaine critically. “You’ve got Ivy boy mixed with New York man fashion, so I’m going with Columbia.”

“You can get that from my clothes?”

“I have many talents.”

Blaine shook his head and had another go with the chopsticks. He failed miserably and Kurt tsked at him, lifting another piece to his lips.

“You know,” Blaine said, “this is going to get seriously degrading.”

“You like it, don’t lie.”

Blaine shrugged. “Well, I like you, so I guess that’s true.”

“You’re a word guy.”

“What?”

“You’re a word guy, not a numbers guy. It’s the way you speak.”

“Okay, so I went to Columbia – a year after you, by the way – and I like words over numbers. This isn’t bad progress. You could make a career out of it.”

“Uh-uh.” Kurt shook his head. “I can only do that if I guess what you do. Otherwise, what use would I be? Okay, new game: I get something right and I get to assist you in your quest to actually eat the food you ordered.”

Blaine spiked one chopstick straight into the rice and pressed the other one against the seaweed wrapping. He successfully lifted it to his mouth and gave Kurt a triumphant look, eliciting a giggle. “Game on.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Kurt blushed and looked at his water glass. “You didn’t mean to say that, did you?”

“If I say ‘no’, will you be offended?”

“No.” A laugh. “I’m flattered, thank you.” They ate in silence for a minute, Kurt watching Blaine have another violent battle with a California roll and swilling his water around in his glass. “Actor.”

“Wrong,” Blaine said, pointing his sticks at Kurt. “Although it’s something I’m passionate about, so it’s not a bad guess.”

“So you’re into expressing yourself, but the stage is not your home.”

“I feel like I’m being psychoanalysed.”

“You’re not any kind of performer?”

“That depends on how you define performing.”

Kurt jumped in his seat, clapping his hands. “You’re a writer.”

The California roll split into pieces, the centre falling out as the rice crumbled apart. Blaine sighed and laid down his chopsticks. “Okay, you must be Googling me or something because you’re too good at this.”

Kurt grinned. “I’m right?”

“Yes, of course you’re right.”

“Okay, so.” He reached across and stole the centre from Blaine’s destroyed roll before feeding him all the chunks of rice. “What do you write?”

“No, no, keep guessing.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’ve come this far, Kurt. Just a little further.”

Kurt took one of Blaine’s pieces of sushi vindictively. Blaine made a noise of protest, but Kurt ignored him. “I feel like you’ve written poetry before, but you don’t now.”

“In college, yeah.”

“Okay. But you’re not a novelist.”

“What, am I not serious enough for that?”

“No, it’s just that you don’t have quite the…” He waved his chopsticks around as he searched for the word. “Introverted persona for it.”

“I’m sure that’s a massive generalisation.”

“Maybe, but I just feel like you’re more interested in what’s happening around you right now, not what’s going on in your head.”

“So?”

“I’m not sure. Film critic?”

“You’re slipping, Kurt.”

“No, no, let me think!” He waved his hands frantically, shushing him. Blaine nodded, pressing his lips together. “You’re published?” Blaine nodded. “More than once?” Another nod. “Alright. My final guess. I think you’re a journalist.”

Blaine leaned his head back and laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll admit it: you’re good.”

Kurt sat up, eyes bright. “Did I get it?”

“Right on the head.”

He laughed gleefully and picked up Blaine’s last piece of sushi with his fingers. He held it out and when Blaine took it, Kurt’s fingertips lingered for a second too long on his lips. He pulled back and grabbed Blaine’s hand. “What kind of articles do you write? Newspaper or magazine? Or are you a blogger, or what?”

“Kurt, okay, calm down.”

Kurt just squeezed his hand tighter. “I can’t believe I figured you out.”

Blaine shrugged. “I guess I’m not that hard. I’m not an… introverted literary enigma, definitely.” Kurt just rolled his eyes. “Okay. I’m working for a magazine right now. I’m kind of stuck at the moment. I’m not really writing what I want to write, but it’s my first job out of college and I was really lucky to get it. I’m trying to get towards what really interests me, but it will take a little while.”

“So we’re in similar positions, then?”

“In a way.”

Kurt hummed, considering this. Blaine was incredibly conscious that they were still holding hands.

“Well, now you absolutely have to tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“The reason I’m taking you out to dinner at all. How is Blaine Anderson, journalist stuck in a literary rut, related to Blair Anderson, rising star?”

“Would you call her a rising star?”

“Her column’s really big with everyone I know. She has great style.”

The ‘thank you’ was on the tip of Blaine’s tongue, but he managed to retain it. “She’s my cousin,” he said instead.

“What, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. The journalist genes must run in the family. I don’t see her much, before you ask me to set you up with a meeting.”

“I would do no such thing.”

“I’m sure. But yes, a cousin with an uncomfortably similar name. She’s always seemed nice, but…” He tilted his head, watching Kurt’s just-fading star-struck expression. “Willing to do a lot of things for her craft. I don’t know if it’s always good for her.”

Kurt snorted. “Yes, sleeping with ten guys for research is pretty willing.”

“It was one guy! It was just… over a few days.”

Kurt frowned. “Your cousin gave you the details? That’s kind of weird, Blaine.”

Blaine felt his stomach drop and all the blood rush to his face. His hand was suddenly clammy in Kurt’s. “I-I… Her mom reads her column. Well, our whole family does, so she had to explain it to us so her mom didn’t worry or… or go insane. He was her boyfriend.” He hoped Kurt couldn’t tell that he was lying through his teeth. He was sure his expression would give it away.

“Oh, that makes sense. Just making sure you’re not some creep,” Kurt teased. He thankfully didn’t seem to have noticed anything. He called for the bill and absolutely insisted on paying for it, no matter how much Blaine stuttered that he really shouldn’t. “So, Blaine,” Kurt said when they were standing by his car, “what do you want to do?”

It may have been a proposition, but that didn’t matter to Blaine. He had ten days; he needed to work fast. He stepped closer, chest pressed right against Kurt’s, and tilted his head to speak into his ear. “I would like to see where you live, if you’d like to show me.”

---

Kurt’s apartment was beautiful. It was sleek and minimalist and yet still so very him that Blaine couldn’t help staring. He stroked the back of the couch as he passed, admiring the tasteful art on the walls and taking in the few sketches stacked on the coffee table.

“Are these yours?” He picked up the first sketch.

“Yeah,” Kurt said, putting on some soft background music. “They’re for the show, if I get the slot.”

Blaine nodded. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Blaine looked up and caught Kurt’s eye. Kurt was smiling at him, skin glowing in the warm light of the room and eyes sparkling. He stepped towards Blaine, took his hand and kissed his knuckles. Blaine’s eyelids fluttered. He tilted his head up and closed his eyes. Kurt’s lips pressed against his, just a brush, and he broke away again. Blaine reached up and wound his fingers into Kurt’s hair, pulling him back in.

The second kiss was more sure. Kurt’s arm slipped around Blaine’s back, drawing him close. He sucked on Blaine’s bottom lip and Blaine moaned, pushing them backwards so they fell onto the couch. Kurt pulled back.

“Hey, let’s… Let’s slow it down, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine mumbled, kissing Kurt’s jaw. He pressed his lips down Kurt’s neck and Kurt groaned and pulled him back to his lips. They fell into it again, Kurt licking across the seam of Blaine’s mouth until Blaine opened it and their tongues brushed against each other. Blaine moaned and settled himself more onto Kurt, pressing their chests together.

Kurt pulled back again. “Blaine. I… that’s not what I want this to be.”

Blaine sighed and rested his forehead against Kurt’s. “What do you mean?”

“I want us to respect each other. We need to.” He breathed in deeply, still slightly breathless. “We need to take it slow.”

Blaine sat up. “Yeah. Okay, yes.” He let his head fall back onto the couch, trying to calm his heart down. Kurt was an amazing kisser. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a minute. He could feel Kurt watching him. “Right.” He pulled himself up. “I’ll get going.”

Kurt scrambled to his feet. “Wait, can I see you tomorrow?”

Blaine felt butterflies awake in his stomach, wings just starting to flutter. He smiled. “Of course, I’d love to. Here.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to Kurt, holding out his hand for Kurt’s. They entered their numbers, exchanged phones again, and stood smiling at each other for a long moment.

Kurt walked him to the door, a hand hovering just behind his back. “Tonight was lovely.”

Blaine nodded in agreement and pressed a last kiss to Kurt’s lips before he stepped out of the apartment. He turned just as he reached the elevator to find Kurt still watching him from the doorway. Kurt lifted a hand in a small wave.

You’re already falling in love with me.

Blaine grinned, offering a raise of the hand in return and stepped into the elevator.

I’m going to make you wish you were dead.

---

DAY 2

It was an infatuation at first. Kurt wanted romance and a relationship, so he spent his days mooning over the gorgeous boy in Ms Corcoran’s class, heart flip-flopping in his chest every time Sebastian descended from his throne at the back of the room to speak to him. They’d danced together at parties a couple of times and Kurt wasn’t sure what the love etiquette was on that sort of situation, but it had to mean something.

After a few months of shared smiles and Sebastian speaking while Kurt gazed at his mouth, and that one glorious afternoon they’d got coffee from the stand together and talked while they crossed campus, Kurt was pretty sure that he was completely, utterly, truly, madly, deeply, cross-his-heart-and-hope-to-die-with-Sebastian-when-they-were-old-and-grey in love.

“He’s a whore, you know.”

Kurt jumped, glancing up at the guy who had sat next to him in the library. Kurt had definitely been reading and not watching Sebastian at one of the other desks. “What?”

“Sebastian. The guy you’re totally in love with. He knows, by the way.”

“He…” Kurt blushed furiously. “He knows?”

“Of course. Everyone does. I’m Jeremiah.” He held out his hand and Kurt shook it.

“Kurt. And what did you mean? About him being a… a…”

“A whore?” Jeremiah smiled and looked over at Sebastian. “Well, I’m not saying he gets paid. He just sleeps with anything that moves.”

“But…” Kurt looked over, too, and saw Sebastian smirking at the boy across from him. Kurt’s eyes flicked down and he saw Sebastian’s foot sliding up the inside of the guy’s leg. “But he…”

“Talked to you? Smiled at you? Took you for coffee?”

Kurt turned to him with wide eyes. “Yes. I thought…”

“You thought it was just you, didn’t you?”

He looked down, trying to blink away the hot flush on his cheeks and the prickling behind his eyes.

“Hey.” Jeremiah stroked his back soothingly. “I know it hurts, but I just thought you should know.”

“You’re right. I… Thank you.” Kurt sniffed and brushed the tears from his cheeks.

Jeremiah sighed and started packing up Kurt’s books for him. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

---

Kurt’s relationship with Jeremiah lasted for two years. Kurt loved him, he really did. But Sebastian was always there.

Kurt’s emotional attachment had been pushed away with the arrival of Jeremiah. It had settled down into a slow-bubbling layer of sexual tension. When Kurt was single again, not wanting to admit that Sebastian might be one of the reasons for that, it quickly reached boiling point. Kurt left almost every encounter with Sebastian achingly hard and completely unsatisfied. Being two of the best in their class and competing constantly only added fuel to the fire. Most of the time Kurt was impressed he managed to remain so aloof around him.

Sebastian was never short of sexual outlets. There were few guys he hadn’t fucked at least once – gay, bi, even some straight guys. Kurt tried not to be jealous, but after a year of them teasing and having intensely charged moments with each other, he felt the anger settle in. It seemed Sebastian would take every single guy except him. They’d get so close and Kurt was just dying to give in, but Sebastian would pull away with a smirk or a chuckle and leave Kurt panting and alone.

And now that was the game: Sebastian would fuck anyone and everyone, but never, never Kurt, and Kurt hated him for it.

---

He lay back on the slight grassy incline with one arm stretched above his head. He stared up at the pinks mottled with fresh green and sunlight gaps. He lifted a hand to watch the shadows dance across his skin as the crab-apple leaves shifted above him, stirred by the soft wind that hinted at approaching summer. He let his head drop to the side and watched the daffodils stretching and playing around each other, yellow heads knocking. He could feel the blades of grass on the back of his neck and hear a flurry of birds somewhere nearby.

He was alone. Just him, a pad of paper and the trees. I’m taking a writing lunch, he’d said, and there had been a few rolled eyes because they all knew where he went. He would come back smelling like spring and sunshine, with a grass stain on the edge of his hand or his elbow. He’d write down a new flower name and stick the Post It to the side of his cubicle, building up his steady wall. Sometimes he would return with pages stuffed full of words, sometimes with only a packet of seeds for each of his closest friends to put in the window boxes he had bought for them.

He had meandered through the azalea garden. The pinks, whites, corals had built up in front of his eyes, a room of old friends in their best dresses. He had passed the daffodils briefly and then settled underneath the tree arcs. He smiled at the branches brushing fingertips above him.

The mechanical sound of his phone broke his stasis. He scrambled for it in the grass, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling out a few blades as he did.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Blaine. It’s Kurt.”

Blaine smiled a little wider and arched his back, stretching. “Hi, Kurt. How are you?”

“Working like crazy, actually. I wanted to ask, would you still like to see me today? It’s alright if you’re busy.”

“No, I’m not busy.” His eyes glanced around the softly shifting scene. I am a mountain, marooned. “Not busy at all.”

“Are you at work?”

“I’m on my lunch break, but I can just take the afternoon off. Say it’s for research.” He took in a deep breath, letting Kurt’s voice work into his space, pulling him out of the stillness curled around him.

“Where are you? That silence I hear can’t be darling New York.”

Blaine paused. He didn’t know whether he could share this yet. But it was just a place, surely. “Botanical Garden.”

“I’ve always meant to go there, but life here just gets so crazy. Is it nice?”

“Yes,” Blaine said, smiling so widely he was sure Kurt could hear it down the phone. “It’s beautiful.”

“Well, I could come meet you—”

“No. No, no, I’ll leave.” Blaine tried to calm his voice and soothe it back into conversational. He wasn’t ready for that yet. With Kurt, maybe he never could be. Not in ten days.

“Okay.” He could tell he hadn’t covered the panic by Kurt’s tone, but hoped it would be let go. “I thought it would be nice to go to a gallery. Maybe MoMA? If… if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“That sounds like something I’d love. Meet you there in two hours? Can you get off work by then?”

“One second.” There was the sough of fabric in Blaine’s ear and a modulating hum – voices. “Yes.” Kurt’s voice was back, breathier. “I can do that. Meet you outside the main entrance?”

“I’ll be there.”

They said goodbye and there was the click of the call ending. Blaine let his hand flop onto the grass, phone held loosely in his palm. He had a little while longer. A phone call to work and then just time to lie here, taking in as much as he could.

The wind pulled a little harder and the branches creaked. Blaine sighed and let his back mould into the ground again.

---

They wandered into Kandinsky at the Bauhaus, eyes doing a first scan of the room to get a scope for it. Kurt smiled and stepped forward to read an information plaque next to one of the paintings. Blaine watched him as he read, a frown settling over his eyebrows. They had been here for half an hour and he knew what he had to do. He had to put Blaine in a box and bring Blair out of the closet.

He slipped her on, his coat that didn’t quite fit. It was belted at the waist; cut for a woman and a little small in the shoulders, but he would learn to work with it.

He stepped up next to Kurt, leaning into him. “This is terrible.”

Kurt turned to him with wide eyes. “What?”

“This art.” Blaine pointed at the painting. “It’s awful. Look at it. It’s a mess of lines and shapes. A child could have made that.”

Kurt gaped at him for a second, then let out a nervous laugh. “Blaine.” He laughed again. “Well, okay, you’re allowed to have your own opinion. We can move on if you want.”

“No, no. Carry on.” Blaine slipped over to the next painting, the smile dropping from his face. The truth was, he loved Kandinsky. He’d been in this room a few times and every visit had left him with the sense of sated pleasure only art could give. Blaine and Blair were different beasts, however, and he had to adapt.

Kurt hadn’t bitten, though. He needed to find something else.

“Kurt,” he said loudly, voice echoing off the walls. A few people turned to look at him out of instinct, and one or two out of disapproval. Kurt scurried over to him, looking a little embarrassed.

“What is it?”

Blaine kept his voice at the same level, just bordering on the obnoxious. “This one’s even worse than the other one. They should chuck it out.”

“Blaine, I think it’s quite an expensive painting,” Kurt whispered, glancing around. There seemed to be a smile edging onto his lips, though.

“But look!” Blaine reached out a hand, finger very close to the canvas.

“Blaine, I don’t think you should—”

“Sir, can you please step back from the artwork.” The security guard had moved forwards a few paces and was now giving a Blaine an admonitory look. “You must stay at a certain distance at all times.”

“Yes, of course,” Kurt babbled. “I’m so sorry.” He grabbed Blaine’s arm to pull him away. “Do you want to stop and get something to eat?”

“Sure.” Blaine put his loud voice, his Blair voice, on again. “Although personally I think it’s ridiculous that we can’t even get close to a piece of artwork. What the hell kind of repressive society do we live in that we can’t even point out the faults in a tacky canvas without being reprimanded?”

Kurt pulled him quickly out of the room, a little snort of laughter working its way out of his throat. Blaine couldn’t tell whether it was from genuine amusement or humiliation.

They made it to a caf� without any major incident, although Blaine continued to comment loudly on artwork, society and at one horrifying moment on a person passing them in his definitely-not-inside voice. Kurt’s grip on his arm was growing tighter each time he opened his mouth.

“What do you want?” Kurt asked, gesturing broadly at the counter. “Anything you like. And I’ll pay,” he said with a grin, squeezing Blaine’s arm.

“Baby,” Blaine cooed, relishing the way Kurt’s eyebrows lifted towards his hairline. “You’re so good to me.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Kurt’s cheek. “I’ll have…” He looked up at the menu. “The chicken wrap? That sounds nice.”

“Sounds great. I’ll just get a salad. You find a seat.”

Kurt came over their table with a tray a few minutes later. He passed Blaine his wrap with a smile, settling in opposite him and bumping their feet under the table.

Blaine pulled the wrapping off his food, letting it flop onto the plate. He leaned down and looked at it critically. “This has mayo on it.”

Kurt paused, a piece of salad suspended in mid-air. “Oh. Do you not like mayo?”

Blaine sighed. “I hate it. I’m sorry. Kurt, could you please get me something else?”

“I could scrape it off.”

“No, Kurt, I really can’t eat it. Please.”

“I – yeah, sure. Let me just.” He got up, grabbing Blaine’s plate and taking it back to the counter. Blaine looked at the length of the line and smiled to himself. That was not a wait that would keep someone in a good mood.

---

They were absorbing art again. They were in a room that Blaine was quickly falling in love with and, from the look on Kurt’s face, he was too. Blaine took his hand as they walked around, leaning into him. Kurt seemed to have got over his slight annoyance from their food stop and was smiling at him sweetly every few moments.

They paused in front of a piece of art that took Blaine’s breath away. He stared up at it for a few seconds before checking Kurt’s expression. He looked enraptured, eyes shining bright blue as they roved across the lines, a small smile tilting at the edge of his lips. Blaine felt a strange constriction in his chest as he took in just how beautiful Kurt was.

Blair’s stiletto kicked him in the small of his back and he turned his head away. Time to play.

He tugged on Kurt’s hand. Kurt looked at him curiously and Blaine gestured his head to ask that they move on.

“Wait, I love this one. Just a minute more,” Kurt said, voice breathy as he turned back to the piece.

Blaine stayed still for a few seconds, then tugged on Kurt’s hand again. When Kurt continued to stare at the art, he whined a little and pulled harder.

“Blaine, please.”

He put his mouth next to Kurt’s ear. “Kuuuurt. Can we keep going? This is boring.”

“I…” Kurt looked between him and the artwork. “Blaine, I—”

“We’re moving so slowly.”

“We’re appreciating the art. We can’t run round the room and expect to get the full experience.”

Blaine pulled on his hand hard enough that Kurt stumbled a bit. “But you stop in front of dull things. Can we please move on?” He watched the muscles in Kurt’s jaw clench and unclench as he visibly forced his face into a pleasant expression.

“Fine. Let’s go. Take me where you want.”

Blaine wrapped both his arms around one of Kurt’s and leaned a head on his shoulder. “No, you lead. I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

---

They stepped out of the museum doors, Blaine still clinging to Kurt’s hand. He had a bag from the museum shop in his other hand, filled with pointless museum things he had somehow managed to force Kurt to buy for him. They paused on the edge of the sidewalk and Kurt hailed Blaine a taxi.

“I had fun today,” Blaine said as the cab pulled up. He smiled up at Kurt, swinging their hands between them.

Kurt opened the door for him. He smiled back, although the expression wasn’t all there. “Yeah, me too.” He stroked Blaine’s arm as he released his hand and let him climb in. Blaine immediately wound the window down and Kurt leaned over to talk through it. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

Blaine stared up at him. If he were in Kurt’s position he would be running for the hills right now, not putting himself back into the line of fire. “S-sure. Call me?” He managed to bring back his overly-bright persona in time to flash him a winning smile.

“I will. Have a good day.” Kurt leaned in and pressed a kiss to Blaine’s cheek before stepping back and giving him a small wave. Blaine nodded in reply and told the driver his address. When he wound the window up and the cab started to drive off, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. He needed to go home, take a long bath and wash off his imaginary lipstick.

---

DAY 3

There were times when Kurt wished he didn’t love Brittany so much that he couldn’t fire her. When she let Sebastian into his workroom would be one of those times.

“Britt,” he hissed, grabbing her arm as soon as he saw Sebastian following her in. “What are you doing?”

“He said he wanted to see you,” she replied, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Coffee?” She held a cup out to him.

Kurt took it with a hopeless expression. “Britt,” he whined. “Why did you have to let him in?”

“Did you not want me to?”

“Hummel, leave Brittany alone.” Santana appeared from the back room, taking Brittany’s hand in her own and leading her towards the door she and Sebastian had just entered through. “We’ll take our breaks and drink our coffees. You can stay here and…” She looked between Kurt and Sebastian. “Do whatever it is you do. Just remember that there are priceless clothes in this room. Don’t stain anything.” She glared at them as Sebastian’s smirk simply grew and Kurt’s face flushed. Brittany tugged on her hand and she turned, leading the two of them out.

“So.” Sebastian turned to Kurt, who promptly busied himself at a workstation. “How’s the wooing going?”

“I don’t know why you’re here.” Kurt started rearranging fabrics and putting away pins, not faltering when he felt Sebastian press up against his back.

“I’m checking up on your progress. I like to know whether you’re still in the running or not.” Sebastian walked his fingers around Kurt’s waist, down his hipbone.

“Everything is going perfectly. I wouldn’t bother finishing your design for the gala if I were you.”

Sebastian’s fingers kept dancing across Kurt’s hips, finally coming to rest over his crotch. His hand squeezed him gently and Kurt forcibly held in a gasp. He kept his hands busy, folding and ordering and willing himself not to get hard as Sebastian rubbed his thumb back and forth across Kurt’s dick.

“Fucked him yet?”

“None of your business, Smythe.”

Sebastian chuckled and squeezed Kurt once, hard, before stepping away. “I’ll take that as a no, then. Shame. Bet his ass is still just as tight.”

Kurt’s hands paused. “What did you say?”

“His ass looked tight. Do you call this travesty fashion?” He had paused in front of a mannequin and was looking it up and down, lips pulling back in feigned disgust.

Kurt span towards him. “Get out of my studio.”

“Oh, Kurt, don’t be like that. We’re just starting to have fun.”

“I don’t come in and spy on your designs. Get the fuck out.”

Sebastian snorted. “You’re not pissed about me seeing your abysmal creations.”

“I’m pissed that you think you can just waltz in here and start insulting things. Get out.” Kurt pointed to the door.

“You’re no fun when you’re all uptight like this. How long’s it been, Hummel? You must be gagging for it by now.”

Kurt just glared at him.

Sebastian shook his head, smile back on his lips. “Alright, I’m leaving.” He looked back at the mannequin. He reached up and pulled out a pin, making the whole front of the dress slip down onto the floor. “Shoddy work, Hummel. It needs a bit more support than that.” He smacked Kurt’s ass as he passed, and then he was gone. The room seemed to grow in size, filled with fresh air again, and Kurt flumped into his desk chair. He looked at the hanging fabric of the dress and sighed. It was going to be a long day.

---

Kurt’s phone rang and he straightened up, stepping away from the mannequin. He almost didn’t pick up when he saw the caller ID, but he pushed through it. “Hi, Blaine.”

“Hi,” Blaine said, voice high and breathy. “Want to do something later?”

“I’d love to, Blaine, but I have loads of work to do right now.”

Santana ran over to him, waving her arms in the definite sign of ‘no’. Kurt flipped her off.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I was really hoping to see you.”

“Well…” Santana picked up a pair of scissors and held them up to the dress Kurt had just finished pinning back together (with much more support this time). His eyes widened and he leapt towards her, but she skipped away, pointing at the phone and raising her eyebrows. “Look, work can wait, right? Britt and Santana can stay late and finish up for me.” He smirked at her and she glared back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yay!” Blaine squealed down the phone. Kurt held it away from his ear with a wince.

“Okay. Meet me at Caff� Mocias on Amsterdam and 94th? We can take a walk plus coffee in Riverside Park.”

Blaine sighed. “That sounds wonderful. Five?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, glancing at his watch. “See you later.”

“Bye, Kurtsie!”

“Goodbye, Blaine.”

---

“Blaine.”

His father called out to him from his office as soon as he’d closed the front door. Blaine sighed, removed his coat and dropped his keys on the hall table before heading towards the source of the voice. He stood next to his father’s rosewood desk, pulling the ends of his sleeves further over his hands and staring at the wall.

“Where were you just now?”

“I…” Blaine’s eyes flicked around the room. He’d never had this conversation with his father before. He’d come out almost a year before, but he wasn’t sure how his dad was going to handle this. “I was on a date.”

“Sit down.”

He grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to the desk.

“Blaine, look at me.” He obeyed, although his hands were shaking. “I got a phone call from Mrs Perkins. She said she saw you in the street… with a boy. You were…”

“Dad—”

“You were holding hands and – and kissing him, Blaine. In the street, where everyone could see.”

Blaine linked all his fingers together to keep them steady. His eyes dropped to his father’s knees. “I thought you said you were okay with… with me being the way I am.”

“Not when you shove it in other people’s faces, Blaine. It’s indecent to act that way when you’re in public.”

“I just kissed him on the cheek, Dad, it’s not like we were—”

“It’s not right, Blaine. Now, you do what you want in the privacy of your own home when you’re an adult. I don’t want to know. But in the street, in public places, anywhere other people can see you: that is not the place for your behaviour. I don’t want to hear from others that this has been happening. Never again, Blaine.”

He nodded, blinking hard. His throat was tight and he barely managed to choke out a “Can I go?”

His father waved him out of the room and returned to his work.

---

Blaine watched Kurt over the rim of his cup, tongue fizzing under the liquid and the bitter caffeine hit in the back of his throat. Kurt turned his eyes towards him and Blaine marvelled at how his irises picked up the bright petals of the flowers all around them. There were strokes of blaue blume and nigella, of aechmea leaves, fanning out from his pupil, and a bolt of gold where the sun refracted. Kurt smiled gently, a blush stretching up his cheekbones, swipes of red to his temple, and he was so beautiful. Blaine gazed at him, feeling a tug in his stomach he couldn’t examine. He reached out and tangled his fingers with Kurt’s. Kurt ducked his head and sipped his coffee again.

Blaine watched his throat as he swallowed. He watched his tongue swipe across his lips, leaving them silky, red and warm with coffee heat. Blaine let out a breath and looked away, watching the flowers instead; they could have talked, petals flapping, or danced on their stems, and Blaine wouldn’t have seen. Kurt’s thumb was sliding along the side of his index finger, warming him from his fingertips to his heart to his toes, and all Blaine could do was smile.

They threw their cups away. They reached a small bridge and Kurt tugged them to a stop. He dropped Blaine’s hand to rest his elbows on the side, looking out at the slow-moving, petal-strewn black water-top. Blaine mimicked him with their sides pressed against each other. He knew their relationship shouldn’t be this tangible to him, because he could count on his fingers how long they had left. But when Kurt was leaning against him, humming gently as he took in the scene before them, Blaine couldn’t help but feel it. Kurt was a cocoon and liberation. He was safety and freedom.

Blaine turned his head towards Kurt, bringing their faces close together. He was going to kiss him. He felt the turning of fear in his gut, his father’s voice kicking him in the back of the head, but he was pushing it away and he was going to do it. Kiss him right here in the park, where anyone could see and no-one would care.

Kurt looked over at him, a lazy smile on his face, and Blaine leaned in. He could see in his mind’s eye how Kurt’s lips would turn up against his mouth, how he’d press a little closer and slip an arm around Blaine’s back. He’d wrap him up close and set him free all with one little kiss.

Kurt pulled away before Blaine could reach him. “Blaine…”

He stumbled backwards, cheeks flaming up hot and his stomach twisting in on itself.

“I—”

“Sorry. I didn’t realise it was like that,” he spat, not knowing where the words were coming from.

“Like what? Blaine, sorry—”

“I’m just your dirty secret or whatever. We can do what we want in private, but we’re just friends in public. Fine.”

“Blaine.” Kurt grabbed his arm, stilling him. “Where is this coming from? That’s not what I meant. I – we’ve just drunk coffee and there was onion in my salad at lunch and I haven’t had a mint yet and…” He looked at Blaine in consternation. “I was just worried it would be gross, I’m sorry. I didn’t – that is not what I intended to imply. Blaine, are you okay?”

Blaine was shaking. He shook his head, then tried to turn it into a nod, head bobbing violently. Kurt reached out and tugged him close, wrapping soothing arms around his waist and kissing the top of his head.

“What is it? What brought this on?”

Blaine just shook his head, burying his face in Kurt’s jacket and refusing to believe in the tears seeping into the fabric. He hiccupped and Kurt’s arms tightened around him.

“I’ve never…” He clutched the front of Kurt’s jacket in his fists. “My dad… H-he…”

“Shh,” Kurt said over Blaine’s disjointed thoughts. “Your dad isn’t here.”

“But he is. He always is.”

He felt Kurt’s cheek rest against his hair. “What do you mean?”

Blaine tugged an arm out from between them to gesture at his own skull before slipping it back against Kurt’s chest. “Here. He’s like a second conscience. Telling me that I’m wrong and unacceptable and – and to do what I choose to do in private and nowhere else.” He sobbed and clung to Kurt even harder.

Kurt made a pained noise and seemed to be trying to wrap Blaine up as tight as he could. “You’re not wrong. You know that. We’re not wrong. I will kiss you in public every day and not a single person can tell us to stop because we are right.”

Blaine nodded against his chest, heart aching at the promise in his words that he would have to stop Kurt from keeping.

Kurt’s fingers tapped the underside of his chin, tilting it up. Blaine blinked up at him, letting the tears blur out of his vision. Kurt smiled, then leaned in and pressed their lips together. He kissed him and held him, and anyone could see but no-one cared.

They broke apart, but Kurt kept gazing down at him, a soft expression on his face. Blaine started to grin. “Okay, you do kind of taste like coffee and onion.”

“Blaine!” Kurt yelped, laughing and pushing him away. “Oh, you’re awful.”

---

DAY 4

“Blaine, darling, how good to see you again.”

The drawl made him freeze as he took his coffee. The barista gave him an odd look. He took a steadying breath and turned around.

He looked the same as ever. He still stood, smirked and breathed like it was so fucking effortless that he couldn’t be bothered with it. His eyes were sparkling, just the way they had been when they first met, and he put a hand on Blaine’s hip. Just as disrespectful of personal boundaries as ever, then.

Blaine forced some semblance of a smile onto his face. “Sebastian. I’d love to stay, but as you can see I’m having a drink, so I’ll catch you later.” He stepped away, out of Sebastian’s cloying heat, and made for a table in the corner of the room. Sebastian took a coffee from the counter which Blaine was pretty convinced didn’t belong to him, and sat opposite him.

“That’s okay, Blaine. We can have coffee, catch up. I’ve missed you.” He grinned, almost feral, and slid a foot up the inside of Blaine’s leg.

Blaine jumped and blushed, looking anywhere but at Sebastian. “Go away.”

“Aw, Blainers, you’re not still sore about what happened between us, are you? You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He was sliding his foot back and forth up the back of Blaine’s calf. “And I really do miss you. I think about your pretty little ass all the time.”

Blaine squirmed and took a large gulp of coffee. It burned his mouth and he tried not to wince.

“How about we ditch the caffeine and go back to my place? Bet you haven’t felt a cock as good as mine in a long time.”

Blaine moved his legs away and put his coffee down. He caught Sebastian’s gaze with hard eyes, jaw set. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”

“No. I care about him.”

“He doesn’t need to know.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian grabbed his hand across the table and the gesture was so unexpected that Blaine flinched. Sebastian ignored it. “This guy can’t be so great that you don’t want me even a little bit. Have you even fucked yet?”

“Stop it.”

Sebastian grinned and pulled Blaine’s hand towards him, licking his fingertips. Blaine glanced around, realising that people could see them, but no-one was looking their way. He tried to pull his hand back, but Sebastian gripped his wrist, kissing across Blaine’s palm. The action was uncomfortably intimate.

Blaine stood, wrenching his hand from Sebastian. “It’s not happening. Enjoy your coffee.”

Sebastian stood and tried to crowd into his personal space again, but Blaine was gone, out the door and running, pulling out his phone to leave Kurt the twenty-third message of the day.

---

Kurt pressed the button on the answering machine with trepidation.

“You have twenty-three new messages.”

“Jesus.”

They were mainly variants on Blaine asking where he was, giggling, telling him what he was doing. The last one was odd, though. Kurt replayed it with a frown.

“Kurtsie, it’s me. I miss you, baby. I…” Blaine sounded out of breath, like he was running. “I want to see you. I think I need you.” The dial tone.

“End of messages.”

Blaine had sounded distressed, but Kurt couldn’t really understand why. The doorbell rang and he left it, deciding to call Blaine later – a prospect he was not looking forward to.

“Hi!” Blaine grinned when Kurt opened the door and he immediately pushed inside. He was carrying a box, but Kurt didn’t ask.

“Hi, Blaine. I… got your messages. Are you okay? You sounded kind of upset on the last one.”

Blaine dropped the box and span to face him, grabbing him and kissing him. Kurt made a sound of surprise and tried to pull away, but Blaine pulled him closer, slipping his arms around Kurt’s back and licking into his mouth. He was kissing Kurt like he needed him, like Kurt was something he was clinging to desperately. Kurt let him, stroking a hand up his back to tangle in his hair.

When Blaine broke away and rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder, Kurt stroked the backs of his fingers across his cheekbone. “What happened?”

“I had a run-in with someone I can’t stand. He… he makes me feel worthless.”

Kurt tightened his arm around Blaine’s back and kissed the top of his head. “You’re not worthless. You’re wonderful. And you mean something to me, okay?”

Blaine closed his eyes and pressed closer. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He kissed the top of Blaine’s head. “Let me cook you dinner. Then we can watch a movie and cuddle.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Kurt smiled, stroking a hand up and down Blaine’s back as he looked over his shoulder. “What’s in the box?”

“Oh,” Blaine said, trying to seem bright through the thickness in his voice. He stepped out of the warmth of Kurt’s arms and lifted the plant pot out of the box, holding it in front of him. “It’s a baby fern.”

“Really?” Kurt said, cocking his head and looking mildly confused.

Blaine couldn’t believe the words he was about to say, but more so he couldn’t believe that a little part of him wished that he could mean them. “Just like our relationship. A helpless little baby in need of…” He stroked the fronds. “Tender loving care.” He thrust the pot into Kurt’s hands.

Kurt looked down at the fern, then back at Blaine. He smiled, although he hoped it didn’t come off as amused as he was feeling. “Thank you. I will cultivate it to the best of my best ability.”

---

Blaine shut Kurt’s bedroom door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out his phone. He tapped his fingers nervously on his knee as it rang once, twice, two and a half—

“Rachel Berry, exemplary journalist for Haute Magazine, how may I help you?”

“Rachel, you have caller ID. You know it’s me.”

“A habit cannot be broken, Blaine. I never know who is going to be on the other end of the line.”

“Whatever. Rachel, I think I’m doing the wrong thing.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t want Kurt to hear me—”

“You’re at Kurt’s? But you didn’t tell me you were going! Oh my god, what did you do? Did you sleep with him? You so slept with him, Blaine, you’re so bad!”

Blaine let out a frustrated huff and clenched his fist on his knee. “Rachel, be quiet for a second, please. No, I didn’t sleep with him. I’m just worried I’m doing the wrong thing. He’s… he’s amazing. He makes me feel things I… I’ve never felt like this in my life and I’m going to lose him and – and, Rachel, what if I don’t want to?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Blaine could hear the shifting of Rachel’s body on what he assumed was her couch. “Blaine… I tried to… I told you to think about this.”

“I know. I know, but I didn’t think…”

“This is your job. I wish there was a way you could not do this, but you have to or you’re not going to have an article. What brought this on?”

Blaine pulled his legs up onto the bed, crossing them. “I ran into Sebastian today.”

“Oh, Blaine—”

“And it was terrible. I talked to Kurt about it and h-he made me feel… I don’t know what he made me feel, but it felt good. Wonderful.”

“And now you don’t want to do this.”

“But I have to.”

“But you have to.” She sighed, making the phone crackle. “You’re going to have to carry on. It’s gone too far to back out now. You need to bring out the performer I know you have inside you and push through it, okay? What was next on the list?”

“Invade his home with my possessions. Move in without living here, basically.”

“That sounds fun! Try to think of it that way. It’s a game.”

“That makes me feel worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. There’s nothing you can really do. I’ll just… I’ll go fuck with his life. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He hung up without giving her time to say goodbye and took the few steps to the en suite bathroom, picking up the box as he went.

He opened the bathroom cupboard, taking in the perfectly organised rows of lotions and creams and dental hygiene products. He allowed himself a moment to smile at Kurt’s obsession with his nightly routine and impressive neatness before he shoved the bottles haphazardly to one side. He pulled some of the items he had brought with him out of the box, piling his toiletries onto the small shelves, making sure at least one spilled a little. He considered the three tubes of lube before grinning and lining them up on the bottom shelf, right next to Kurt’s moisturiser. He dropped his newly-acquired spare toothbrush in the holder with Kurt’s and closed the cupboard.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he made his way back to the kitchen. He kicked his shoes off and left them in the middle of the floor – he hated it and so would Kurt. He entered the kitchen, breathing in the heavenly smell of whatever Kurt was cooking. He couldn’t help feeling guilty, considering the moment they’d had earlier, but Blaine had to do his job. Just a few more days and he was done.

“Hi, baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind and sucking on his earlobe.

Kurt jumped. “Blaine! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Blaine hummed and started pressing sloppy kisses to his neck, hands roaming across Kurt’s stomach. His fingers slipped under the hem of Kurt’s shirt and traced across the sensitive line of skin just above his waistband. Kurt gasped.

“Blaine,” he said, voice high and sweet, “honey. Cooking.”

“Fine,” Blaine said, nipping his jaw and pulling back, practically skipping out of the kitchen. He started pulling any CD he vaguely recognised off Kurt’s shelf, carrying the pile over to the table and splaying it out. He spotted one of them and grinned, flipping it open.

---

When Kurt looked in the living room, Blaine wasn’t to be found, but he could hear music playing from his bedroom. He pushed open the door and almost choked. Blaine was jumping on his bed, scream-singing along to Katy Perry’s Peacock.

“Blaine—”

“Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock—”

“Blaine.” Kurt stabbed the off button and the room was suddenly echoing, Blaine pausing in his dancing. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Blaine shrugged, jumping off the bed and slinking across to Kurt in a way that wasn’t sexy at all. “I just want to see your peacock, cock, cock, Kurt.”

Kurt surveyed the mess of his room, catching sight of some of Blaine’s clothes deposited haphazardly on his chair. He didn’t even want to think about it. He looked back at Blaine, who was now tracing a finger down his chest, mumbling about his peacock.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“But, Kurt.” He looked up through his eyelashes with a ridiculous expression Kurt couldn’t even identify. “I can think of something else I really, really want to eat first.” Blaine’s fingers reached the top of Kurt’s jeans.

Kurt jumped away, backing towards the kitchen. “Maybe after? Come on, the food will get cold.” He tripped over something and swore. He looked back and saw Blaine’s shoes lying in the middle of the floor. “Leave it, Kurt,” he muttered to himself.

---

Blaine was silent and placid as Kurt served the food and Kurt was almost convinced they were back in the safe zone. That hope was shattered, however, when they started to eat.

“I’m sorry if you’re embarrassed, Kurt. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“What would I be embarrassed about?”

Blaine leaned over the table and stage-whispered to him, even though they were quite obviously alone. “About your… problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You can see your doctor, baby. There’s no need to be ashamed.” Blaine took his hand, stroking it.

“Blaine, seriously, I don’t—”

“You can’t get it up and that’s fine, really. I’m not complaining. I’m happy to go with you and get the drugs you need and—”

“What are you talking about? I don’t…” Kurt dropped his cutlery onto his plate. “Do you mean in there?” He gestured to the bedroom. “You think I said no because I – because I—”

“Erectile dysfunction is a common problem, Kurt. You’re a little young, I know, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explana—”

“I don’t have a problem with my dick!” Kurt pulled his hand back. “I don’t… Blaine, you… Oh my god.” He put his head in his hands.

“So you’re in denial. Okay.”

“I do not have erectile dysfunction.” He lifted his head. “I didn’t want you to blow me. That was the problem. Okay? You happy now? I didn’t want to put my dick in your mouth.”

Blaine’s face screwed up and Kurt knew he’d made a mistake. He reached out just as Blaine started to sob.

“No, Blaine, not like that. Stop, no, please.”

Blaine sobbed loudly; put his hands over his face to disguise the lack of tears. He heard Kurt talking frantically to him.

“Blaine, you know it’s not like that. I want it, I really do. It just wasn’t the right time and I didn’t mean it like that. Blaine, honey, ssh.”

Blaine was wrapped in Kurt’s arms and pulled himself away. “You don’t want me,” he wailed, his fake histrionics reaching an ear-splitting pitch.

“I do, Blaine, seriously, it’s—”

“Why do you never let me touch you?”

“I…”

Blaine looked up at him with accusing eyes, still pretending to hiccup.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, looking lost. “We’ve been seeing each other for barely a week. Don’t you think that would be a moving a little… fast?”

“So our time together means nothing to you?” Blaine stood up, knocking his chair to the floor.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re thinking it!”

“No.” Kurt reached out and pulled Blaine into his embrace, holding him tightly when he tried to squirm away and speaking rapidly into his hair. “These few days have been amazing. I’ve never felt so connected to someone before and I just really, really, really don’t want to mess this up by going too fast. I want you to know I respect you.”

Blaine burrowed closer, lifting his lips to Kurt’s ear. “Want to respect me by letting me suck you off?”

Kurt patted the back of his head. “Not tonight, okay? I’m not really, ah, up to that.”

“Oh.” Blaine pulled back with a pout. “Okay, then. I guess I’d better leave.” He pulled on his shoes and socks and grabbed his coat.

“But, Blaine, we haven’t finished eating.”

“See you tomorrow, Kurtsie,” he called as he left.

---

After the disastrous exit of his ‘boyfriend’, Kurt was looking forward to a relaxing, Blaine-free evening. He’d poured himself a glass of wine, and was all ready to go through his skincare routine and climb into bed with his sketchpad. He entered the bathroom, pushing his hair back and rubbing his eyes. He pulled open the cupboard as he turned the taps on, feeling around for the bottle he needed. His fingers scrabbled at the place it normally was. He looked up, wondering what had happened to his organised shelves, and let out a yelp. His cupboard was overflowing with products that most definitely did not belong to him. Cheap aftershave, foul cologne, shampoo he’d never let near his hair and – he choked – boxes of condoms and bottles of lube.

He stepped back in horror, eyes flicking across the bathroom. The hand towel was on the floor in a puddle of water, there were hairs on the floor by the toilet, a razor that didn’t belong to him was sitting on the edge of the sink and someone else’s toothbrush had joined his.

He wrenched the door open and escaped to his bedroom. He couldn’t deal with this now. He tripped over a pair of Blaine’s espadrilles on his way to bed. He was about to climb in when he saw the pink and red pillows. He picked one up and turned it over in his hands. It was shaped like a heart, with a line of frill around the edge. It was hideous.

He pushed the pillows to the side and ripped the tartan blanket off the bed because he couldn’t stand to sleep under that thing and didn’t understand where Blaine had even found something so heinous. When he lay down, he slipped his hand under the pillow and hit fabric. He tugged and pulled out a pair of boxers. He groaned and chucked them at the pile of Blaine’s clothes already in his room. His whole bed smelled like Blaine; he had no idea how that had been achieved and didn’t really want to think too much on it. He would just sleep now and deal with these monstrosities in the morning.

---

DAY 5

The light of day only served to make things worse. Kurt put his feet into Blaine’s slippers rather than his and there was another tartan abomination draped over his couch. He didn’t know when Blaine had had the chance to put out polar bear, but there it was, head, mouth, teeth and all, rising out of his floor. There was food in the fridge that Kurt didn’t even want to think about (and seriously, when had that even happened?). There was a painting that, judging by the signature, had been painted by Blaine’s completely talentless mother hanging above the table.

By the time Kurt reached work – having received odd looks from the people in his building’s lobby for groaning at his new phone background of Blaine making a ridiculous face at the camera – he was seething.

“What’s up your ass?” Santana said when he walked into the design studio.

“Fuck off.”

“You know, I can walk out of this job at any moment. You’re lucky I’m still here.”

“Coffee!” Brittany shut the door of Kurt’s workroom and handed a cup to Santana. Kurt huffed and grabbed his from her, drinking a large gulp. He had a headache and the day hadn’t even begun. “What’s wrong with Kurt?”

“Boy troubles, Britt. Something we thankfully don’t have to deal with.”

“I wouldn’t call Blaine ‘boy troubles’. It’s like having a schizophrenic puppy that hasn’t had its balls chopped off yet.”

“What did he do?” Santana checked a measurement and started drawing on a piece of fabric.

“Jesus, what didn’t he do?” Kurt grabbed a box of pins and headed to a mannequin. He needed to be doing something violent.

---

He heard Brittany come back in with their lunch and the fabrics he’d sent her for. The click of the heavy studio lock could be heard from the small office off the main space. He listened for a moment longer, hearing something other than Brittany’s normal announcement of her return. There was more than one voice, and the other one definitely wasn’t Santana’s. He stepped out of the office, walking around a couple of mannequins to see who had just walked into his workroom.

“Kurt!” Brittany called with a grin. “I met Blaine on the way in. He’s so nice, Kurt, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I did, I thought,” Kurt said. He stared at Blaine, who was standing beside Brittany with a wide smile on his face and a pile of fabrics under one arm.

“Blaine’s going to come over and see Lord Tubbington sometime.” Brittany handed Kurt his daily salad. “You haven’t been to see Lord Tubbington in ages. I think it’s giving him depression, Kurt.”

There was a snort from behind them that Kurt knew came from Santana. He ignored both of them and worked on giving Blaine as winning a smile as he could. Blaine smiled back, dropping the fabrics onto a nearby table and throwing his arms around Kurt’s neck. “Hi, Kurtsie,” he squealed, pressing kisses to every part of Kurt’s face and neck.

Kurt’s breath was almost knocked out of him by the force of it. He patted the back of Blaine’s head gingerly. “Woah, hi. Hello.” He managed to disentangle himself, giving Blaine a quick peck to his lips to placate him. He turned to Brittany and Santana, both of whom were giving him amused looks. Santana looked positively gleeful. “Um, girls, meet Blaine.” He gestured to Blaine, who was sliding his arms around his waist and grinning manically at them. “Blaine, honey, I gather you’ve met Britt. This is Santana.”

She waved her fingers delicately at Blaine. “Pleasure.”

Blaine unwrapped himself from Kurt and stepped across to give each of them a kiss on the hand and a murmured ‘charming’. Kurt had to try not to smile too hard at the ridiculous gesture. Brittany broke out into giggles and even Santana seemed to be holding back a grin. Blaine stepped back into Kurt, leaning against his chest and blinking up at him.

“So, are you going to let me see your designs?”

“Well, um, they’re not really finished yet.”

“Stop being a pussy, Hummel. Come on, Blaine.” Santana grabbed Blaine’s hand and she dragged him to the closest mannequin. “This is the opening piece.”

Blaine’s eyes flicked up and down the outfit. Blair was pinching and prodding him, telling him to say something rude and obnoxious, but he couldn’t. Seeing this, this room – Kurt had worked his fingers to the bone to create these things. He had put everything into them. Blaine couldn’t just tear them apart. “Wow,” he breathed out.

Brittany came up behind him and hooked her pinkie finger around his. “Has Kurt told you the main theme of the collection?”

“No.” Blaine tilted his head back to catch Kurt’s eye. “He hasn’t told me very much at all.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but he moved towards them. “It’s unisex fashion. I always used to wear women’s sweaters and kilts and things in high school – I still do, sometimes.” He smirked at the way Blaine’s eyebrows raised at the word ‘kilts’. “Fashion has no gender. I’m trying to represent that.” He looked away. “Obviously, you can see that there are a few dresses in the collection, but they couldn’t be avoided. I can’t ignore ideas that come to me. Also, this is the first collection of its kind, so I have to ease people into it. Can’t go all unisex, all at once.”

“That’s.” Blaine swallowed. “That’s one of the most amazing ideas I’ve ever heard.”

Kurt shrugged, trying not to blush too hard as his eyes flicked repeatedly from Blaine’s to the ground. “It’s nothing world-changing.”

“Stop it,” Blaine scolded, stepping away from Santana and Brittany and wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist. “It’s groundbreaking, and it’s wonderful.”

Kurt kissed Blaine’s head, trying not to smile too widely. He caught sight of Santana’s expression and pulled away quickly. “Do you want to see the rest?”

Kurt led Blaine through his whole workroom, around each mannequin to show him the full effect, and explained what each piece was about. Blaine took it all in with rapt attention, nodding enthusiastically at points. He seemed in awe of everything, and it flattered Kurt to say the least.

“And this,” he said, sweeping an arm out, “is my pride and joy. This is the final piece in the collection.” He bit his lip, suddenly feeling the nervousness return. “What do you think?”

Blaine stepped forwards, reaching fingers out to brush across the fabric. “It’s brilliant, of course, but…”

“But?”

“But how about… How about you make it asymmetrical? Look.” Blaine pulled on the fabric, trying to replicate what he was imagining.

Kurt frowned. “Well, it’s really not that kind of piece.”

“No, he’s right,” said Santana, stepping forwards to look at more closely at the effect Blaine was creating. “It’s edgier this way.”

“Edgier isn’t always better, Santana.”

“You told me last week that you wanted to make your designs edgier,” Brittany said.

“I said sharper. Not the same thing.”

“Kurt.” Blaine sighed and stepped back from the mannequin, allowing Santana to step in and pull the fabric up again. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job. I was just making a suggestion. I’m sorry.”

Kurt huffed. He looked at Blaine, then at the mannequin. His eyes trailed over the asymmetrical line Santana was creating. “Oh, god, you’re right.”

“What?”

“You’re right.” He stepped up next to Santana. “Pins.” He held out a hand and Brittany dropped a box into it. He took out pins and started sliding them into the fabric. He took a step back when he was done and started to grin. He reached blindly into the air and Blaine’s hand met his. He squeezed it. “You, good sir, are a genius.”

---

“I’ve been planning something kind of crazy.”

“Oh?”

Blaine clutched the scrapbook a little closer to his chest. “I might have been planning our wedding.” He turned away quickly, unable to look at Kurt’s expression without losing it. He set the scrapbook out on the table, flicking through the pages as he waited for Kurt. The chair beside him creaked and he saw Kurt’s hands reach out for the book. Blaine let him drag it towards himself, waiting for the awkwardness and speech about how this was way too fast. He had needed to bring this out after the frighteningly lovely afternoon at Kurt’s studio; everything had been going far too well. This had to be the straw to Kurt’s back. It had to be.

Kurt snorted. “Is that you in a bright pink tux? Blaine, please, anything but that.”

“It’s fun!” he protested, wondering when things were going to flip.

Kurt continued to flick through, expression falling into disgust as he took in the truly horrible wedding Blaine had planned out for them. “Look… Blaine, this is… this is possibly the worst wedding I have ever seen.” His eyes lifted to Blaine’s and there were distinct nerves in them. “Wait here for one second, okay?”

Blaine nodded. This was it.

Kurt went into his bedroom, returning a minute later with a sketchbook in his arms. It wasn’t his work sketchbook; this was one was a deep navy rather than plain black, with silver detail in the page-side corners. Kurt sat down again, holding onto the book for a second longer, before taking a deep breath and placing it on the table. “I never show things like this to anyone, but… but you showed me yours, so.” He turned the sketchbook so it was facing Blaine and opened the first page. Blaine’s eyes scanned it, widening as he realised what it was.

“This is just a mock-up sketch of the invitation,” Kurt said, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks. He turned through the next few pages, showing photos and cut-outs of buildings, some with accompanying articles, some with Kurt’s notes added to them. “These are some potential locations,” Kurt said, pointing at the circled ones, obviously his favourites. Blaine got a chance to read some of the notes, and allowing for doves seemed to be a factor in more than one of the circled choices.

Kurt took him through the next few pages. “These are ideas for colour schemes. I’m still undecided on this part, really. I wanted t-to ask you, but I didn’t think you’d… Th-these are cakes. Designs and flavours and…” His hand fluttered over the page and Blaine heard his breathing waver. He reached under the table and grabbed Kurt’s other hand, keeping his eyes fixed on the scrapbook as Kurt continued to turn pages, through seasons and menus and even guest lists.

At last, they turned to a section entirely constituting of Kurt’s own drawings. Blaine looked across the figures, some drawn alone, some in pairs, each in a different suit.

“I tried to find colours which would compliment both of us,” Kurt murmured, voice dropping low in fear. “I would… I would give you final say, but I-I really like this one.” He laid a finger on what was clearly a sketch of the two of them, leaning into each other in complementing but not matching suits.

Blaine stared for a few seconds, trying to make his throat work again, but it felt like there was something lodged in it.

“I never show things like this to people I’m dating. I’m not trying to… to assume anything. I just love planning it and I couldn’t stop thinking about ours. Everything just slotted together and I’m so sorry if it’s too much.” Kurt started to close the book. “I can put it away and you can go, I’m sorry—”

“It’s wonderful, Kurt.” Blaine placed his own hand over his, holding the book open with their fingers splayed over the final drawing of the two of them. “I would be – honoured to be a part of this. One day. You—” Blaine lifted his head, eyes meeting Kurt’s for the first time since the book had been opened— “you are so amazing.” He cupped Kurt’s cheek in his palm, drawing their faces closer. “Thank you for showing me.”

Kurt let out a breathy laugh, relief falling out of him in a rush of air. He surged forwards and pressed his lips to Blaine’s.

Blaine was completely himself, Blair held back in tight chains as he lost himself in Kurt’s mouth. He kissed him, heart beating up into his throat as their lips opened up to each other and their tongues tangled together. He tugged Kurt into his lap, eliciting a small yelp. Their lips never parted and Kurt tilted Blaine’s head back, angling his tongue deeper and kissing him harder.

Blaine moaned and suddenly he was lifting them up, laying Kurt out on his back on the table and leaning over him. Kurt gasped as Blaine stepped between his legs, pressing in closer and stretching his torso over Kurt’s, kissing up the side of his neck. Blaine leaned his elbows on the wood either side of Kurt’s head and pulled back. He smiled down at him, eyes roving over Kurt’s swollen lips, flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Kurt grinned back, reaching up to tangle his fingers into the hair at the nape of Blaine’s neck.

A pink corner in Blaine’s peripheral vision caught his eye. His gaze flickered away from Kurt’s face, landing on his own horrendous wedding sketchbook. All at once, reality was back in full force. In five days, Kurt would be out of his life. In seven, his article would be hitting the news stands of New York and although Blair kept Kurt from knowing who he was now, once he read that column it would all become painfully clear.

This was just a job. It was an article. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

He pulled back, stepping away from the table. Kurt sat up, reaching for him.

“Where are you going?” he whined, pouting endearingly.

Blaine looked away. “I think we should stop. I’m… thinking about what you said – about not rushing anything. Th-this feels too fast.”

Kurt took his hand. Blaine couldn’t look at him.

“Okay.” Kurt’s voice was soft and Blaine hated hearing how much Kurt cared about him in his tone. “Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine by me. I’m not expecting anything from you.” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s fingers. “Hey. Blaine, will you please look at me?”

“I should go.”

“Blaine.” Kurt took hold of his chin, forcibly turning Blaine’s gaze to him. He caught the light sparkling off the tears pooled in them. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

The endearment almost broke Blaine, because it was sincere and it made his stomach flip and his heart clench. “Nothing,” he managed to choke out. “I… Look, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

A crease formed between Kurt’s eyebrows. “It’s girl’s night tomorrow night.”

Blaine nodded, eyes flicking across the room, avoiding Kurt’s. “Right. Day after, then. I’ll call you.” He stepped out of Kurt’s arms and Kurt let him go, face set in worry.

He hopped off the table and followed Blaine to the door. Blaine gave him a swift goodbye and tried to escape, but Kurt pulled him in and wrapped him up in his arms, pressing soft kisses to his hairline. “Thank you for today,” he whispered. He gave Blaine a final kiss and let him slip away, trying not to worry when Blaine didn’t even look back.

---

Blaine tilted sideways, falling heavily onto the bed. He was pliant, come-splattered and sated, although his ass felt empty and his thighs were still burning. It was good, though. He turned his head on the pillow.

“That was amazing,” he mumbled drowsily.

Sebastian didn’t look at him, but lit a cigarette with a flourish, settling back into the pillows and blowing out a plume of smoke. “Get out.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m done with you now. You can go.”

“I…” Blaine stared at his uncaring profile as he tilted his head back, blowing smoke rings like he was born doing it. He scrambled out of the bed, tugging his clothes on as his face burned and he tried not to let anything stick to the drying come on his stomach and thighs. He stumbled out of the door before fat tears started spilling onto his cheeks. He wiped them away and ran, not understanding how it was possible to feel so much like a whore when you hadn’t been paid.

---

DAY 6

To: Kurt Hummel
I can’t stop thinking about you.

From: Kurt Hummel
I can’t stop thinking about you, either. I’ll see you tomorrow?

To: Kurt Hummel
Of course. What are you doing?

From: Kurt Hummel
Working

To: Kurt Hummel
Mmm working with your hands, you have such great hands. Talented.

To: Kurt Hummel
Wish I could feel them on me.

Blaine span back and forth in his chair, glancing across to Mercedes’ desk to check she wasn’t looking his way. This technically counted as work, but he felt kind of weird doing it in the office.

He’d shrugged off the oppressive sensation yesterday had placed in his chest. He’d loosened Blair’s shackles a little and he was trying to forget, not talking to the girls about it at all. He had a job to do, after all.

From: Kurt Hummel
Really? Where? I’d love to run them through your hair.

To: Kurt Hummel
I was thinking somewhere a little further south

From: Kurt Hummel
Oh, right. I know you really want me to massage your knees. ;)

Blaine laughed out loud. Rachel’s head popped up over the side of his cubicle.

“What are you doing?”

“Just messaging Kurt,” he said, grinning up at her, still stifling giggles.

She frowned and tilted her head at him. “You’re supposed to be driving him away, Blaine.”

He sighed, returning his attention to the phone. “I know, I know. I just… at times I can’t help it.”

She rested her chin on the top of the cubicle wall. “You should be careful, you know.”

“With what?”

She shrugged. “With your heart.” She dropped back into her own chair, leaving Blaine holding his phone with a frown and an unsettled sensation. He shook his head and tapped out a reply, a smile working its way back onto his face.

To: Kurt Hummel
Well, they’ll probably need it when I’m done with you.

From: Kurt Hummel
Are you offering to get on your knees for me?

To: Kurt Hummel
Only if you ask very nicely. ;)

From: Kurt Hummel
Remember when you sucked on my tongue while I was kissing you?

To: Kurt Hummel
Yeah. Why?

From: Kurt Hummel
I couldn’t help thinking about it then.

To: Kurt Hummel
Thinking about what?

From: Kurt Hummel
How your mouth would feel on my cock, sucking like that.

To: Kurt Hummel
Fuck. I want that. God, I want that so bad.

From: Kurt Hummel
Really?

To: Kurt Hummel
Yeah. I keep thinking about it. I kind of… crave it.

Blaine crossed his legs, rolling further under his desk. He hadn’t realised he’d get this deep into it with Kurt. He hadn’t intended to; he had a plan, after all. But Kurt… Kurt was going along with it and Blaine was getting drawn in by how hot it was.

His computer beeped and he looked up, blinking to clear his head. He had a new message on the office system. He clicked on it; a link from Rachel.

What do you think? Should I get these?

He sighed; he opened the link and almost recoiled. “Rachel,” he called out, “those are the most god-awful tights I’ve ever seen. Please, buy anything – anything else but those.”

She popped her head up again. “You really don’t like them?”

“They’re animal patterned, Rachel. There would be small giraffes and hippos all over your legs. Are you serious?”

Mercedes span towards them on her chair. “Rachel, leave Blaine alone. He’s trying to get his sexy on with Kurt and you’re really not helping him.”

Rachel huffed and disappeared. Blaine shot Mercedes a grateful look and she waved him off, returning to her desk. Blaine let his head drop back. The moment was broken now. He had to achieve his purpose, regardless of how much he wanted to keep talking to Kurt like this.

He looked down and read the new message with a sigh. Time to bring on Blair, crazy girl extraordinaire.

From: Kurt Hummel
I want to come in your mouth

To: Kurt Hummel
I keep fantasizing about you.

From: Kurt Hummel
Tell me

To: Kurt Hummel
I want to suck on your ears. God, your pointy little ears.

He didn’t get a new reply for two minutes and tried not to laugh at what he imagined Kurt’s face looked like right now. He grinned and settled into his alter ego. This might not be as sexy, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.

From: Kurt Hummel
What?

To: Kurt Hummel
Because I’m short, you know, like a hobbit and I keep seeing us together, me as a hobbit and you as an elf

To: Kurt Hummel
And you’d suck on my toes and lick the hair on my feet and moan because you’d be so turned on by it

To: Kurt Hummel
And then you’d fuck me slowly, whispering in elvish about how hot I am and how much you want to keep me like this forever

To: Kurt Hummel
And that would be kind of possible because elves are immortal and hobbits have a really long lifespan

To: Kurt Hummel
And you have so much stamina. You can fuck me for hours and hours

To: Kurt Hummel
This is all in the woods

To: Kurt Hummel
Or Rivendell in one of those soft beds or under a waterfall

To: Kurt Hummel
And you’re fucking me and I just start sucking on your ears god the shape they’re all pointy and the tip feels amazing against my tongue

To: Kurt Hummel
I’m so hard right now

From: Kurt Hummel
Sorry, I have to go to a meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow.

To: Kurt Hummel
Until daybreak, my elven prince.

---

Blaine didn’t know when the benches of the Botanic Garden had become a place he went with the girls, but that’s what they were. They rarely ventured from their wooden seat, but they had managed to get Blaine to allow them this far into his personal headspace.

(“You can’t claim a whole garden, Blaine. It’s public. We have rights, you know, and just because we’re female, doesn’t make us any less entitled to them. I thought that as a journalist writing under a female pseudonym, you would understand the nuances of oppression and not condone them as you currently seem to be doing…”)

Okay, so maybe Blaine had some idea how it had happened.

“I don’t think I’m doing enough.” He shifted Rachel’s legs where they were draped across his lap and took a bite of his sandwich.

“Are you being clingy?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “If I cling any harder I won’t be able to let go. I’m whiney, needy, baby-talking, inappropriately horny—”

Mercedes snorted into her salad.

“Shut up. I sexted him about a Lord of the Rings fantasy a few hours ago.”

“Oh my god, is that what you were doing?” Rachel sat up a little. “No wonder you were laughing so hard. Is he still willing to see you?”

“I told him I’d see him tomorrow and he didn’t object. I mean, he didn’t reply, but that means he didn’t say no.”

“Have you talked about all the weird places you have body hair?” Mercedes asked.

“Um… I wasn’t aware that I had abnormal patches of body hair?”

“Well, you’ve got this animal thing going on here,” Rachel teased, fluffing his curls. Blaine slapped her hand away. “Fine,” she said. “Tell him about that time you had a sex marathon. Or just talk about the great sex you had with other guys.”

“Ooh, you should call him up in the middle of the night and tell him everything you had to eat that day.”

“It’s not enough.” Blaine shook his head. “Kurt’s tough. I give him crazy and he bounces back sweet. I don’t know where to go with him and I need more ideas by tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?” Rachel asked, slipping her legs off Blaine’s lap.

“He’s busy. It’s girl’s night.”

“Your boyfriend is having a girl’s night?” Mercedes raised her eyebrows at him.

“It’s tradition. They have one every week.”

Rachel leaned her head on his shoulder, gazing up at him. “They did have one every week. But now there’s another boy in Kurt’s life, and you know what that boy is going to do?”

“Rachel—”

“That boy – no, man. Definitely all man.” (Mercedes snorted.) “That man is not going to sit at home while his boyfriend paints a girl’s nails. No, no. He has much better places to be.”

---

Blaine could hear the chink of glasses on the other side of the wood, followed by a peal of laughter. They were having a good time, he could tell. He almost felt bad for ruining it.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Kurtsie, I’m home!” He kicked the door shut behind him and went to dump the stuff he’d brought in the kitchen. He stepped back into the living room to find four shocked faces staring at him.

“Blaine, hi. How… Where did you get a key?”

“Oh, your super made me one,” Blaine said brightly. “Nice lady. I kept catching her staring at my ass, though, so.” It wasn’t even a lie.

Someone snorted and, looking around, Blaine realised it was Santana. He grinned at her.

“Blaine, you’ve met some of my girls.” Kurt, who was being positively stoical in the face of this terrifying new development, pointed a hand to each of them in turn as Blaine gripped his shoulders, smiling at them. “You know Santana, my seamstress and Brittany, my assistant and all-round amazing girl. And this is Quinn, my publicist. They’re my little Unholy Trinity.”

Blaine chuckled, and then leaned down to stage whisper in Kurt’s ear. “I really don’t think they’re as bitchy as you said.” He hugged Kurt’s shoulders and pressed a wet kiss to his ear before dashing to the kitchen, returning a moment later with boxes in hand. “I brought pizza!”

“Blaine, we already have food. Much healthier food, might I add.” Kurt watched with distaste as Blaine flipped open the lids on a margherita and a pepperoni. His heart sank when all three of the girls immediately reached for a piece. People would never learn.

“Come on, Kurt, stop being such a spoil sport.” Blaine grabbed a slice and carried it over to Kurt where he was sitting on the couch. He perched on his lap. “Open.”

Kurt glared at him, but Blaine just kept grinning. Kurt opened his mouth and immediately the tip of the slice was pushed inside. He bit into it begrudgingly, ignoring how good it actually tasted.

“Good boy,” Blaine hummed, kissing Kurt’s forehead and leaving the piece dangling from his mouth as he hopped off him. Kurt had to scramble quickly to stop pieces of pepperoni from dropping into his lap. Blaine wandered around the room, pushing things around, before stopping in front of the shelf. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Quinn said, looking over at his sound of shock.

Blaine reached up, lifting the love fern down from the shelf. “Wow, Kurt, you’ve kept it really well. It’s… well, it’s thriving.”

Brittany giggled at him and Blaine flashed her a grin. Kurt shrugged. “I couldn’t just let it die.”

Blaine smiled down at the plant, then placed it back on the shelf. “I’m glad. Have you talked to the doctor yet?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Quinn asked sharply, head snapping towards Kurt.

“Nothing, I don’t know what Blaine’s talking about.”

“Oh, Kurtsie, I told you, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Blaine sighed and settled back on Kurt’s lap, wiggling his ass against Kurt’s crotch.

“Blaine, you’re not talking about—”

“I think it’s perfectly fine to tell your friends you have a problem with—”

“Shut up. No. We’ve been through this.”

“Kurt,” Brittany said, sounding shocked. “Why would you talk to Blaine like that?”

“Because he’s being stupid, Britt.”

“Hey,” Santana said, glaring at Kurt.

Blaine was pulling away, shoulders hunched and arms crossing over his chest as he stood up. “Why are you acting like this?” he hissed. “You’re embarrassing me in front of your friends.”

“Oh, because you weren’t about to embarrass me?”

“If you didn’t want to talk about it you could have just said so.”

“I thought that was what I was doing.”

“Blaine, what else did you bring with you?” Quinn asked. “I thought I saw more than pizza boxes under your arm.”

Blaine turned to her, floundering for a moment. “What? Oh. Yeah. I’ll be back in a second.” He escaped to the kitchen once more, leaning back against the counter, letting out a heavy breath. He allowed himself a moment of silent laughter. Kurt’s friends defending him was just perfect.

He straightened up and shook himself out, grabbing the bottles of beer he’d brought with him. As he carried them out to the living room, he caught the tail end of what was being said.

“I really think you’re being a bit hard on him, Kurt. He seems sweet.”

“‘Seems’ being the key word. He’s bi-polar as hell. It’s like he’s fucking insane, I’m serious. I’m starting to wonder if he has some sort of syndrome.”

Blaine knew Quinn had seen him. Her eyes went wide and she reached out to squeeze Kurt’s knee, glancing significantly over his shoulder. Kurt twisted around.

“Blaine…”

The fake rage was settling over Blaine’s body, making his brows lower and the bottles chink together as his hands shook. “Are you trying to imply that I am some –” he had a moment of indecision, then clutched the bottles harder in his hands, making them clank together – “kind.” He flung a bottle onto the ground and it smashed, glass and beer flying across the floor. “Of.” Two bottles this time. “Mental person?” He screamed and threw the last two at the wall.

Kurt was scrambling over the back of the couch, leaving the girls flinching and staring wide-eyed at the beer dripping down the paintwork. “Blaine.”

“No!” Blaine stepped back. “I can’t be with you if you’re going to think that about me. I won’t do it.” He stormed to the door, wrenching it open and stepping out. He made it to the elevator before Kurt was pounding after him, spinning him around.

“Blaine, what is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? My boyfriend’s a dick, that’s what’s wrong with me!”

“Just…” Kurt growled and ran a hand through his hair. “What happened? What went wrong? What happened to that guy who let me feed him sushi and told me I was beautiful? I don’t see him any more. You’ve become some other person I just don’t know how to deal with.”

“So you do think I have a mental condition?” Blaine shrugged Kurt’s hands off his arms, stepping into the elevator as it dinged and the doors opened.

“You tell me. Tell me what happened that made you become this person.” The doors began to close and Kurt slammed a hand to one, holding them.

“Nothing changed, Kurt. I am who I am and if you can’t accept me then we just can’t be together.”

Kurt stared at him for a moment, fingers flexing on the door. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

He sighed and raised his hands above his head, letting the doors slide shut. He watched Blaine’s face all the while, right up until it was just the doors staring back. “Fine. We’re done.” He stepped back into his apartment. His eyes were drawn immediately to the splash painting of beer across his wall.

“What did you just do?”

He suddenly had Santana right in his face, Quinn and Brittany hovering just behind her with worried expressions. Santana slapped his shoulder.

“Are you insane? You only have a few more days, Kurt! You’re giving up a career because you can’t handle one guy?”

“Did you not see that?” Kurt pointed at his wall. “He’s crazy! He’s all over the place and I can’t deal with it!”

“Oh, find your balls, Hummel.”

“Kurt.” Quinn stepped forwards, placing a hand gently on his arm. “You know how important this is. Can’t you just try?” She looked up at him with beseeching eyes and Kurt slumped.

“I’ve ruined it.”

“No.” Quinn shook her head and stepped a little closer, carefully pushing Santana back a bit. “There’s still hope. You can… You can get couple’s therapy.” She raised her eyebrows in question.

Santana snorted. “Sitting with some shrink talking about his sex life isn’t going to make him any better, Quinn.”

“I think couple’s therapy sounds like a nice idea.” Brittany stepped forwards and slipped a placating arm around Santana’s waist. “Blaine would like it.”

Kurt laughed a little. “Yeah. Yeah, he would.”

“Move, then,” Santana said with a shove to his shoulder. “Go catch him.”

They all started pushing him out of the door and Kurt stumbled down the hallway. He looked at the elevator, then headed for the stairwell. He flew down flights of stairs, jumping the last few, and burst into the lobby just as the elevator dinged. “Blaine!” he called as he stepped out. Blaine jumped, looking up at him in shock.

“Kurt, what—”

“Couple’s therapy.”

“What?”

“Blaine.” Kurt reached him, grabbing Blaine’s biceps. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, please give me another chance. I don’t want to be without you.”

“Kurt—”

“Couple’s therapy. We can talk through our problems, get everything ironed out. How about it?” He bit his lip. “Please.”

Blaine stared up at him for a moment, head moving infinitesimally from side to side. “Couple’s…”

“Therapy. Couple’s therapy.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Yes? I’ll book us an appointment—”

“No, no.” Blaine shook his head more forcefully this time. “I know someone who’ll work wonders with someone like you, Kurt.”

“Great.” Kurt nodded. “Anything. I need that.”

Blaine stepped back, delicately removing Kurt’s hands from his arms. “I’ll book an emergency appointment for tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Thank you for understanding.”

Blaine nodded. He proffered his cheek. “Kiss.” Kurt kissed it. Blaine fixed Kurt with a firm stare. “I love you, Kurtsie. But I don’t have to like you right now.” He swung around and flounced to the exit, lifting his hand in reply to Kurt’s final call of thanks. He made it out of the building and all the way onto a subway carriage before he stopped, fell into a seat, and stared aghast at the rumbling floor.

What?

---

DAY 7

“I want this to work,” Blaine cooed, rearranging Kurt’s tie as they paused outside the door. “You’re going to have to let down a few of those walls you have, honey. She needs to really…” He pulled hard on Kurt’s cardigan, making him sway. “Understand you. You’re beautiful inside, under all the anger you have sitting on the surface and she needs to see that if she’s going to help us.”

Kurt just nodded, glancing at the door. Blaine turned to it, rapping sharply. There was the sound of footsteps and very quickly the door swung open to reveal Rachel, peering up at them with her eyes framed by overly large glasses. She was wearing some hideous white shift that made her look a bit like a Bedlam patient.

Blaine stared at her for a moment, lost for what to say in the face of her insane get-up, but finally found his voice. “Dr Berry, so good to see you.”

“Blaine,” she simpered. “Kurt. Do come in.” She gave a wide sweeping gesture for them to enter. Kurt picked his way past her, eyes roving across her form before gliding over the excessive levels of pink and fluff the apartment was suffocating in. Blaine wanted to laugh at Kurt’s expression, but he just gave Rachel a raised eyebrow behind his back. She grinned at him.

They sat in Rachel’s living area. It was a place Blaine had been so many times before, and he had certainly been analysed in it before, but it had never been quite like this. He and Kurt accepted Rachel’s cups of herbal tea (“to calm the nerves and open the mind and soul”). Kurt was putting on a forced expression of pleasure which, once he had sipped the liquid himself, Blaine completely sympathised with.

“So,” Rachel said. She slowly crossed one leg over the other and hooked her joined hands over her knees, appraising them through her oversized frames. “Before we can begin, I do need to ask how you intend to pay for this session.”

Blaine looked to Kurt. “Honey?”

Kurt paused for a second. Then: “Sure. Of course. How much is it?”

“Three hundred dollars.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Three hundred dollars,” Rachel repeated, the picture of calm.

“Well… Right.” Kurt pulled his chequebook from inside his jacket. He squeezed Blaine’s hand before writing out the cheque. “Whatever it takes, right?”

Blaine grinned and kissed his shoulder. “Whatever it takes.”

“Now, you two have been together for a week, is that correct?” Rachel’s voice had the edge of someone who didn’t understand animals speaking to a horse. Kurt kind of wanted to shove her down a flight of stairs.

“Seven days today,” Blaine replied, bumping his shoulder against Kurt’s.

“So is this a sexual problem, or an emotional one?”

“Emotional.”

“Both.”

“Blaine, we don’t have any sexual problems. We haven’t had sex.”

“I would call that a problem.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise not jumping into bed with people straight away was a bad thing.”

Blaine gasped, turning to Rachel with an appalled expression. “Did you hear that tone?”

“Kurt.” Rachel leaned forwards. “I’m getting the impression that you just called Blaine a slut.”

“No, no, that’s not what I—”

She held up a finger. “I am sensing an underlying issue here. Kurt, have you ever had sex?”

“Did you just ask if I was a virgin?”

“Oh, wow,” Blaine said. “That’s serious. I think you should have told me that, Kurt.”

“I’m not a virgin!”

“There’s no need to shout,” Rachel soothed. “Okay, so you have had lots of sex?”

“Sex maniac,” Blaine shot out. Rachel nodded sadly.

“Woah, woah, so I went from blushing virgin to sex-crazed whore in two seconds? For fuck’s sake, find some middle ground.”

Rachel raised her hands. “There’s no need for language like that. You need to calm down. Breathe deeply for me.” Kurt glared at her, but he took a comically large breath in. “Now let it out.”

He blew all the breath out, letting his shoulders drop. “I just want to clear up that I am neither virgin nor sex maniac.”

“Okay.” Rachel patted his hand. “There will be another explanation.” She thought for a second. “There are a lot of gay men in the fashion industry, am I correct?”

“Yeah.”

Blaine tried to catch Rachel’s eye because he had no idea where she was going with that question, but she was staring resolutely at Kurt.

“So would you say that the stereotype has pressured you into being gay?”

“What?”

“I have two gay dads, so you don’t need to worry about homophobia from me. I just want to establish how you took on this persona of being gay. If you’re not interested in having sex with men, you can’t force yourself into it.”

Blaine stroked Kurt’s forearm. “You can tell the truth, Kurt. I can handle it.”

Kurt gaped at both of them. He shook his head. “I like cock. Can we just accept that and move on?”

“Kurt,” Rachel said.

“No. No, no, no. I like cock. I like dicks, and assholes, and balls—”

“Kurt,” Blaine hissed. “I really don’t think this is appropriate.”

“So you’re gay,” Rachel surmised loudly, breaking them apart.

“Definitely.”

“Kurt, are you ashamed of Blaine?”

“Of course he is,” Blaine blurted without a moment’s thought.

“No,” Kurt broke in. He turned Blaine’s face to him. “You know that’s not true.”

Blaine took in Kurt’s earnest expression and realised what he was thinking of. “Are you sure?”

“Blaine, I’ve told you, I will never be ashamed of you. Please believe me.”

Blaine’s mouth opened, closed; opened again. He nodded and turned away. They were supposed to be having a fake therapy session, not real moments of connection.

Rachel was watching them curiously. Blaine widened his eyes at her to push her back into character. She sat up, eyes still flicking between him and Kurt, who was watching Blaine’s profile and stroking his thumb across Blaine’s hand.

“Do you two feel that you know each other?”

“Yes,” Kurt replied. “I know more about Blaine than you would believe possible in a week.”

Blaine couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not. He shot a look at Rachel, who tried to shrug subtly. “Well, I wouldn’t agree. Not on my part, at least.”

“What are you talking about?” Kurt tilted his head towards Blaine.

“I tell you all sorts of things about myself, but I barely get anything back. I don’t even know where you come from! I know nothing about your family, your childhood, nothing.”

“You never asked, Blaine. You want to know about my family? I’ll tell you everything. You can come and meet them if you want to. We can drive down to Stoughton, spend the weekend with them.”

Rachel clapped her hands together and they both jumped. “Now that is a positive idea, Kurt. How about it, Blaine?”

Blaine just stared at her. “What?”

“Would you like to go to Stoughton?”

---

DAY 8

The drive to Stoughton was long.

Kurt kept watching the clock. He knew the drive was taking just as long as it normally did; it just felt like each second was being dragged out. Blaine was in full bi-polar mode.

“Are you even listening to me, Kurt?”

“Yes.” Kurt actively forced himself not to grit his teeth. His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Of course.”

“You’re lying.”

Kurt’s eyes flicked to Blaine. He was staring at Kurt with his eyebrows raised, somehow looking accusatory and needy all at once.

“Who is he?”

“What?” Kurt said, looking back at the road.

“The guy you’re thinking about.”

“Blaine, what? I’m not thinking about a guy. I’m thinking about driving, for Christ’s sake.”

Blaine huffed and Kurt could see him turning his body towards the window out of the corner of his eye. A small voice came from the other side of the car. “I don’t like it when you snap at me.”

Fuck. Kurt breathed deeply for a couple of seconds. He reached out a hand and laid it on Blaine’s leg. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to concentrate on the road, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He heard Blaine sniff and cursed himself inwardly, stroking a hand up and down his leg in an attempt to soothe. Blaine grabbed his hand. “What are you thinking about, then?”

“You,” Kurt said without thinking.

Blaine leaned forward, trying to catch Kurt’s eye. “Really? What about me?”

“Well.” Kurt was searching for words, squeezing Blaine’s hand gently. “I was thinking about how handsome you are. You’re so… sexy, Blaine. It’s amazing.” Kurt wasn’t actually lying: he’d thought these things about Blaine the moment he met him. They were just eclipsed, sometimes.

“You think that about me?”

Kurt glanced him, catching his adoring look. “Of course.” Suddenly there was a hand at his belt, trying to undo the clasp. “Fuck, Blaine, what are you doing?”

Blaine succeeded in undoing his belt and started in on his jeans. “Well, I thought your sexy boyfriend could give you a present.”

“I – what?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of road-head, Kurt?” Blaine unzipped Kurt’s jeans and started to lean over him.

Kurt almost lost control of the car. “Blaine, stop! Jesus, no.” He pushed Blaine’s hands off him and struggled to do himself up one-handed. “Not… not now, okay?”

“You’re not even slightly turned on by the idea of me blowing you while you drive?” Blaine asked, surprised by how sharp the words came out. It was hard, pretending to be someone else. Sometimes his real feelings got hurt and he didn’t know how to stop it. “Are you not attracted to me at all?”

Kurt growled and swerved the car onto the hard shoulder. Blaine jumped and clung to the door at the sudden jerk of the car. Kurt braked sharply and turned to him, a hard expression on his features. “Blaine, listen to me. You’re fantastic and yes, I’m definitely attracted to you. But we’re a few minutes from my house and I’m not going to see my dad when I’ve just had oral sex in my car. It’s not going to happen. So… save it, okay?”

“We’re that close?” Blaine asked, seeming mercifully distracted from the road-head topic.

“Yes. This is the edge of the town, see?”

Blaine looked out of the window and took in the houses on the side of the road and the sign welcoming him to Stoughton. He swallowed, feeling all his nervousness build up inside him to full force. “Right.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Just…” He waved his hand vaguely. “Keep driving.”

The car started again and Kurt pulled back onto the road leading into the town, towards his family home. Blaine was starting to feel a little sick. Up until now it had been easy to think of this like a game: it was only Kurt, sometimes a couple of his friends. Once this article was written he could avoid them for the rest of his life in a city like New York. The people he was about to meet, however, were Kurt’s family. They’d raised the man beside him. They were welcoming Blaine into their home at short notice under the illusion that he and Kurt were an item, falling in love if they weren’t already. Blaine didn’t think he could act like this around them.

Before he had time to calm himself down properly, Kurt was pulling into the drive of a beautiful, classic New England house and climbing out of the car. Blaine followed him and caught up to him before he reached the door. As Kurt pulled his keys out of his pocket, he looked back and caught Blaine’s expression.

“Hey.”

Blaine’s eyes flicked to his. He knew his fear was showing on his face. “I’m kind of nervous.”

Kurt couldn’t help but reach out a hand to him. He entwined his fingers with Blaine’s. He looked positively terrified and the expression was the most comprehensible Kurt had seen on his face since the day they met. “They’re going to love you.”

Blaine smiled weakly at him, obviously not convinced. Kurt sighed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Come on.” He unlocked the door and led Blaine in by the hand. “Hello?” he called out into the house. Immediately, Carole came around a corner, a wide grin on her face.

“Kurt, honey, it’s great to see you.” She pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek. “And you must be Blaine.”

Blaine gripped Kurt’s hand tighter, holding out the other to her. “Yes. It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Hummel.” He gave her his most charming smile, trying not to seem as nervous as he was.

Carole took his hand with a laugh and pulled him towards her, kissing him on each cheek. “Lovely to meet you, too, and call me Carole, please. No need to look so nervous – we don’t bite. Come in, come and meet everyone.” She placed a hand on his back and began to guide him into the house, her motherly air actually succeeding in calming him. Kurt dropped Blaine’s hand to wrap his father up in a hug and long-sufferingly share a fist-bump with a tall man Blaine assumed was Finn.

Blaine didn’t know what to think when Burt turned to him with a smile and a genial pat to the shoulder. Kurt’s father was the person he had been most afraid of meeting. He kept thinking of his own dad back home and how he would never have even let Blaine’s boyfriend in the house. So Burt Hummel was quite a shock.

“There’s a game on,” he said to Blaine, leading him towards the couches where all the others were taking seats. There was Finn and his wife, a woman Carole introduced as her sister and her family, and Blaine could hear children running around in another room. “Blaine,” Burt continued, turning to him with a serious expression. “I need to ask you, are you a Yankees fan?”

Blaine laughed. “No, sir. I’m a Rangers man. Let me guess: Red Sox?”

Burt grinned and clapped him on the arm. “Born and bred.”

“He takes it so seriously,” Kurt said, passing Blaine with a bowl of chips in hand and putting them on the table. “It makes me wonder how we’re related.”

“Baseball is no laughing matter, Kurt,” Blaine said.

Kurt gave a pained groan and escaped to the kitchen to help Carole.

---

Blaine settled into watching the game, getting wrapped up in the adrenaline of it. He didn’t notice that he was so involved until the moment it ended and he realised that Burt was clapping him on the back and cheering. Finn was still staring at the screen. Blaine had just spent an hour with this family without feeling like a guest at any point. Burt was smiling at him like he’d just won a baseball game.

“Is it safe?” Kurt strode back into the room, glancing at the screen.

“Sit down, kid,” Burt said, squeezing Blaine’s shoulder a final time.

Kurt did so, sliding himself in next to Blaine on the couch. When he saw Blaine cast a nervous look in Burt’s direction, he slipped an arm around his waist. There was a tensing of the muscles in Blaine’s back, but when no one reacted, he relaxed.

Everyone gathered on the couches and chairs, a couple of kids on the floor, a baby in Finn’s lap. They all started throwing questions at Kurt, asking how New York was, how the designs were coming along, when he and Blaine were going to get married (Blaine knew she was only four and didn’t realise the awkwardness of that question, but he still blushed). At some point the cards came out and they played a round or two. Kurt’s niece was disturbingly good at poker for someone who still wore frilly socks.

Blaine learned more about Finn’s life than he would have thought possible in such a short time. He kept blushing every time Carole patted his hand or his arm, or the time she stroked his hair, or the time she paused when walking behind the couch and placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and a hand on Blaine’s. He tried not to fall over himself when he realised that everyone seemed to like him. They listened to what he had to say, laughed with him and teased him like he was just another part of the family puzzle. He leaned heavily into Kurt when it all hit him. Kurt glanced at his expression, then smiled. “Can I say I told you so?”

Somehow, as the poker descended into cheat, the focus turned to him.

“So were you born in New York, Blaine?”

“Um, no, sir.”

“Oh?” Kurt looked down at him where Blaine had somehow ended up curled against his chest with one of Kurt’s arms around his shoulders.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Why would we laugh at you? Unless you’re from Texas, in which case you won’t be able to stop me.”

Blaine blushed and fiddled with his shirt cuffs.

“Wait, are you actually—?”

“Canyon Lake, near Austin.”

“You don’t have an accent, honey,” Carole said, saving a flame-faced Kurt from having to speak.

“I hide it most of the time, but I slip occasionally. People judge you immediately if you have a Southern accent and I…” He looked up at her, trying to find a way not to say what he wanted to but knew he shouldn’t. “I try to forget about it most of the time.”

“Have you been home recently?” Carole asked, avoiding what he’d just said exactly the way he’d hoped she would.

“New York is my home.” He grabbed the empty chip bowl. “I’ll just take this through for you.”

---

“Blaine.”

“Kurt, I’m fine. Just leave it.” He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“That would mean talking about my family, so no, I’d really rather not.”

Kurt’s fingers brushed up his arm; little points of warmth, and Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him close. He felt warm wrapped up in Kurt’s arms. The sounds of the house were all around him, woven in with Kurt’s soft breathing and murmurings of comfort. The words were almost out of Blaine’s mouth before he stopped them. They couldn’t be true, not so quickly. He was being fooled by this cocooning house and Kurt’s heartbeat against his ear.

Kurt ran a hand through Blaine’s hair. “Look, my dad’s probably going to put on an old baseball game in the background while they keep playing cards. I’m sure you’d love it, but if you’d rather just stay here with me, two-person baking is an option I’m putting on the table.”

“Do I get to see you in an apron?”

“If you ask very nicely.”

“How could I say no?”

---

DAY 9

They ate breakfast in the garden. It was late-ish morning, so the sun was up and warming the air. There was a small breeze making the grass and leaves shiver. Kurt set out bowls of strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, yoghurt. He placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Blaine and stroked his hair as he did so. Blaine glanced at Burt, but the open display of affection seemed to be neither here not there to him as he tucked into his own eggs. Blaine caught Carole watching him and her soft, motherly smile made him warm from the inside out.

The children had a battle over who got the Fruit Loops first. Kurt fussed over his father’s heart when Burt tried to take another piece of bacon. Finn talked loudly about the game the day before, not noticing or not caring when people tuned him out. Carole kept serving Blaine more food as though he were her son to take care of. For a moment, Blaine saw his own mother sitting in Carole’s seat. She smiled, reached across to stroke his hair back off his forehead, and snuck another spoonful of egg onto his plate when she thought he wasn’t looking. She was his mother before… before everything.

He blinked, and she was Carole again, discussing lunch with Kurt. Fingers slipped in between Blaine’s on the tabletop. He looked down to find Kurt’s fingertips sliding under his palm. When he glanced up, only Finn was watching them. He caught Blaine’s eye and gave him what Blaine could only gauge to be an encouraging smile. He returned it and wrapped his fingers into his hand, over Kurt’s.

“What are you kids doing today?” Burt took a swig from his coffee cup, looking at Kurt as he lowered it.

“I wanted to take Blaine to see the garage.”

“Why’d you do that?” Burt asked with the hint of a laugh in his voice. “I know he’s a country boy, but he’s been in New York for a long time. I don’t know if a day as a grease monkey is what he needs.”

“No, I’d like that. Which garage is this?”

Burt gave him a calculating look. “Mine. Hummel Tires and Lube.”

“Then I definitely have to go,” Blaine exclaimed, turning to Kurt with a triumphant look.

“Perfect,” Kurt replied. He kissed Blaine’s cheek. He felt Blaine’s hold back flinch and sighed against his skin. He leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Calm down. No one cares what we do here. Just be yourself.”

Blaine nodded, forcing a tiny smile. Kurt sighed again, but just squeezed his hand before tuning back into the conversation.

---

“And you get to wear the disgusting spare overalls.” Kurt’s voice rang out from the cupboard. “They’re red, which is often a good thing, but not in this case.” He returned with a pair of overalls over each arm, one navy blue, one red. He handed the latter to Blaine.

Blaine smirked. “I’m sure you will be pleasantly surprised by how good I look in these.”

“Okay, Sparky.”

“Did you just make a baseball joke?”

Kurt turned his attention to his own overalls. “That is something you will never know. Do you think it’s too hot to wear jeans under these?”

Blaine felt his mouth drop open a little. “Um. Yes. Most definitely.”

Kurt looked up at him with raised eyebrows, then snorted. “Oh my god, you are always so horny. You should get help.”

“The only thing that would help is if you stopped being so hot, but I’m not really willing to give that up.”

Kurt blushed. “Turn around.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Don’t make me say it twice. I’ll tell my father you’re pressuring me into sex.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Blaine said with a gasp, but he turned away. They both stepped out of their jeans and into the overalls. Blaine pulled his shirt over his head, leaving just his undershirt. He shrugged his arms into the red sleeves and zipped himself up to halfway up his chest. He turned to find Kurt in much the same position, looking adorable in his navy overalls with his name embroidered over his heart.

“Well.” Kurt looked Blaine up and down. “What do you know? You look ridiculously cute in those.”

Blaine looked down at himself, but was pretty sure the effect was lost on him. He lifted his head, grinning. “What can I say? I have a talent.”

Kurt put his hands on his shoulders and spun him to face the garage. “Enough. We have work to do.”

“Technically it’s a Sunday.”

“Blaine, stop talking.”

Blaine nodded. He let Kurt lead him to one of the cars on the garage floor. “Ooh, can I go on the skateboard underneath?”

“I told you to stop,” Kurt said with a laugh. “No. No skateboards for this one. I thought we’d start off easy. Show you the ropes.”

“My dad and I rebuilt a car once, you know.”

Kurt heard Blaine’s tone. “Really?” he asked carefully.

“Bonding trip. Failed, of course.” Blaine shrugged. “I figured out what he was trying to do, so.”

When Blaine didn’t elaborate, Kurt had to nudge him a little. “What was that?”

Blaine took in a deep breath, eyes roving over the spare parts stored on a shelf near them. “He thought doing something manly would make me straight. It didn’t work, obviously.”

Kurt slid his arms around Blaine’s waist from behind and kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine was silent for a minute. He frowned at the floor while Kurt pressed sporadic kisses to his shoulder and the back of his neck. He straightened up. “It’s in the past now. I’ve forgotten everything. Start me from scratch, professor.”

**

“Blaine, the oil goes on the car, not you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m a klutz.”

“How do you make oil look cute?”

“I work out?”

**

“Are my hands supposed to be this dirty?”

“No.”

“Am I doing it wrong?”

“No.”

“Then—”

“Oh my god, yes, yes, you’re doing it wrong. Stop!”

**

“How did you get motor oil behind your ear?”

“Does it look cute?”

“Shut up.”

**

“Holy mother of fuck, Jesus, you cock-shitting ball sucker – fuck, ow!”

“…”

“…”

“That was quite impressive.”

“I told you to hold onto it.”

“I would’ve dropped it sooner if I’d known that was going to happen.”

**

“Did I do it?”

“You did it.”

“Yes! Do I get a kiss?”

“You get two.”

**

Blaine felt tears prick his eyes as he watched Kurt pull towels out of the cupboard for him and start the shower on the right temperature.

“I know the dials might be a bit complex, but I ordered this from a Japanese company when I was fifteen. The water pressure is outstanding, but you have to get it just right.” Kurt stepped away from the newly running shower, turning to Blaine. “Hey,” he said when he caught his expression, “what’s this for?” He stroked Blaine’s arm with a soft look.

Blaine sighed, looking at the floor and tangling his fingers with Kurt’s. “I love this house. I love all the people in it. They’re all so welcoming and I feel… like I can just be here, no questions asked. And your dad,” he sniffed, “your dad just accepts you; accepts us, like it’s nothing.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said with a shake of his head, “that’s a good thing. That’s how it should be.”

Blaine let his head hang forwards and felt hot tears spill onto his cheeks. “I’ll never have that with my dad. He’ll never love me the way he did before I came out.” He took in a shaky breath and Kurt wrapped him up in his arms, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re so lucky,” Blaine said, curling into Kurt’s chest, “and I feel blessed to have even a part of what you have.”

Kurt put a hand under Blaine’s chin, tilting it up. He stroked his fingers along his jaw, skin catching on one day’s stubble. He sighed, pushing his frown away, and kissed him. Blaine leaned up into it, but Kurt pulled away too quickly. He brushed fingers over Blaine’s cheekbone, around the shell of his ear. Blaine kissed Kurt, catching him a little by surprise. Kurt squeaked against his mouth and Blaine pulled back with a laugh.

It petered out, and they were left staring at each other as the room started to fill with shower steam. Blaine lifted his arms above his head, watching Kurt all the while. When Kurt didn’t react, Blaine rolled his eyes and wiggled his shoulders and fingers. Kurt laughed and nodded as he reached for the hem of Blaine’s shirt.

They pulled each other’s clothes off, giggling and pressing kisses to cheeks and necks. When they had both stepped out of their jeans and underwear, Kurt dragged Blaine into the shower, kissing him frantically. They stumbled over the lip of the shower and slipped on the wet ceramic floor. Kurt’s hand slapped onto the shower wall and Blaine fell into him, unbalancing them all over again. They laughed, clinging to each other to stay upright. Eventually, Kurt cupped Blaine’s jaw with his hands and drew him into a kiss again. He crowded him up against the tiled wall, licking past his lips.

They fell into lazy kisses for a while. The water was hot on Kurt’s back, trickling down between their bodies and throwing billows of steam off their skin. Blaine slid a hand around Kurt’s back, pushing them together. They slipped into a rhythm, skin sliding over skin until Blaine was letting out little moans into Kurt’s mouth.

Kurt kept kissing Blaine as he pushed the shower door open. His arm disappeared around the edge and Blaine could hear scrambling, but was paying more attention to sucking Kurt’s bottom lip into his mouth. Kurt leaned back into the shower, pulling the door closed and looking at Blaine in triumph. Blaine looked down and snorted. Of course Kurt would have condoms and lube accessible in all places. Kurt slapped his chest lightly.

He tilted his head, considering him, letting them settle back into sweetness and want. He gestured with the bottle and Blaine nodded. Kurt huffed out a breath and gave him the smile of a nervous teenager. Blaine wanted to kiss him for it.

Kurt lifted Blaine’s leg and hooked it around his hip, keeping their eyes locked. Blaine pressed his toes into the back of Kurt’s calf and ran a hand up his spine to the back of his neck. He pulled him in for a kiss, revelling in the warmth of Kurt’s mouth. He parted his lips and Kurt’s tongue slipped inside, tracing along his. Blaine sighed into his mouth, the sound dropping to a moan when he felt the brush of Kurt’s fingers against his entrance.

Kurt worked him open slowly with a sweet, hot press inside him and he kissed him to hide his keens. Kurt’s other hand stroked his side, his stomach, his hip, everywhere; soothing and warm, anchoring Blaine when the crook of Kurt’s fingers inside him tilted the Earth sideways. He rested his head against Kurt’s neck and breathed hard, little whimpers escaping unbidden. The wall tiles were warming against his hot skin, small moans mixing with the thrum of water to echo off the ceramic.

Each stroke of Kurt’s skin was slowly pulling away each part of Blaine’s armour. He could almost hear the chain mail slither of all his words hitting the floor. The woman he had been forced to become was unclenching her fingers from around his wrists; unwrapping her legs from around his waist and stepping away until he was just Blaine. Unadulterated; naked without his breastplate and flurry of arrows.

Kurt whispered his name, choked it against his neck, and for the first time it was true. There was no-one else within him now and no other’s acts to encase him. He leaned his head back and opened his arms to it.

When Kurt pushed into him, Blaine felt his consciousness fragmenting. Kurt was taking him to pieces with every press into him. He could think of nothing but them and how full he was and how he was in pieces but so, so whole.

Kurt lifted him up against the wall, both Blaine’s legs wrapped tight around him, and he was right there. Blaine’s hand slammed against the glass door of the shower, fingertips trying to find purchase on the flat. He keened, wrapped an arm around Kurt’s shoulders. He had his face pressed into Kurt’s neck as he licked wet kisses onto his skin, but Kurt pulled Blaine’s head back. I want to see you, he murmured. Blaine blinked in reply, and then his eyes were locked on Kurt’s. Kurt thrust once, twice more and he was gone. They both were. They moaned, still sliding against each other, stripping more and more and more from each other, eyes tethered until at last they slumped into stillness, panting.

Blaine leaned hard against the wall, one leg dropping to prop him up. Kurt lifted a shaking hand to push Blaine’s curls from his forehead. He paused there, fingers wrapping around Blaine’s hair. He smiled, his lips curving up slowly as a look of complete contentment spread across his face. Blaine let out a heavy breath and returned it.

When Kurt pulled away from him a few minutes later, he almost cried out. He wanted to stay there, exactly like that, forever. Kurt shushed him with soft, barely-kisses to his lips. He swiped his hands over Blaine’s torso, letting the water wash him clean, and they finally stumbled from the shower on shaky legs. Blaine just leaned against Kurt, letting him towel them dry.

When there was no water on their skin except for the dampness on the backs of their knees and around their ankles, Blaine hugged his arms around Kurt’s middle and rested his head against his chest. Kurt let his cheek rest on top of Blaine’s head, fingertips curling in little patterns on his shoulder blades.

They almost spoke. There were so many things they could have said – so many things they thought of to say, sitting right behind their teeth, ready to clamber out. They didn’t speak; they didn’t need to. Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine’s hairline and smiled. They were perfect.

---

“So this is home.” Kurt looked up at the building they had stopped in front of, fingers tangled with Blaine’s.

“This is home.”

The drive back had been quiet, but they had liked it that way. They had kept their hands linked on top of the gearshift and Blaine had watched Kurt almost the whole time. At some red lights, Kurt leant over and pressed a lingering kiss to Blaine’s lips. They had rolled down the windows a little and let the air buffet them, blowing out the stuffy thickness of summer that had gathered as the car sat in the driveway. Blaine had leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and the sight of him growing serenely windswept had caused Kurt to make more than one bad driving decision.

“It’s the gala for the fashion show tomorrow night. They’ll announce whether I’ve got the slot or not. I’d like you to come with me.”

Blaine had climbed up one step, making him level with Kurt. He smiled. “I’ll be there in my best suit.”

“I would like you to be there… as my boyfriend.”

Blaine’s smile grew and he wrapped his arms around Kurt’s neck. “Was that a question?”

“Maybe?”

Blaine laughed. He leaned their foreheads together. “I will be there, then, as your boyfriend.”

Kurt hummed happily, sliding his lips over Blaine’s for just a moment. “Ten days tomorrow.”

“Ten days.”

“I’m lucky to have had even that with you.”

Blaine grinned, dropping his head onto Kurt’s shoulder. “That was bordering on cheesy.”

“I prefer ‘romantic’.”

Blaine huffed out a laugh. “Okay, Mr. Romantic, I’ll let you have it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed Kurt one last time. And once more. And once more after that.

He pulled away at last, but was tugged back for just one more kiss. “I can’t wait.”

---

DAY 10

“Holly, I need to talk to you about my article.”

Holly looked up at him briefly before tipping her head back to the notes on her desk. “Fire away.”

“I can’t write it.” He saw her shoulders tense, but he stumbled on. “I’ve spent ten days with this guy and while that may not seem like a long time, I’ve gotten to know him. We’ve gotten to know each other and I’m not sure that I can go through with this.”

Holly sighed. She dropped her pen and leaned back in her chair, looking up at him. “Look behind you.”

Blaine did, catching sight of the oversized mock-up of that month’s front cover. His title was right there on the front page.

“It’s already on there, Blaine, and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t let you drop this. You’re a great writer, but you’re new. You’re not invincible yet. You need to write this just as much as I need you to. I told you at the start, if you can’t do it then… well, you don’t really have many options.” She sighed again and crossed her legs. “Look, he sounds like a great guy, and I’m sorry for that, but there are plenty of great guys in New York. You’re one of them. I want that article on my desk by the end of tomorrow. I’m not even going to tell you what will happen if it’s not because you do not have another option.”

Blaine stared down at her desk for a moment longer. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay. End of tomorrow.”

“End of tomorrow.”

He nodded, and excused himself from her office.

---

“Accessories!” Santana jumped to her feet. “Kurt, accessories.”

“Shit.” He shoved the garment bag into Brittany’s arms as reverently as he could and dashed into the office. “Shit, shit, shit.” He pulled out all the boxes on the shelf which would be even vaguely relevant and started rifling through them. Santana appeared at his side, pulling out things which looked appropriate. “How did I forget accessories?”

“You don’t need that many, it’s not that kind of piece. Here.” She shoved a bangle into his hand and he grabbed it, kissing her on the cheek.

“I love you.” He swiped a pair of earrings and dashed back into the workroom where Brittany was standing in exactly the same position, holding the garment bag like the dress inside would shatter if she so much as breathed too deeply.

Kurt paused in the middle of the room. He shoulders slumped. “It’s all wrong. Santana, the whole dress is wrong. What have I done? I can’t show that to a roomful of people, Santana, oh my god, what have I done?”

She slapped the back of his head. “Snap the fuck out of it. That dress,” she pointed viciously at where Brittany was still imitating a statue, “is fantastic. It is one of the most beautiful things you have ever made and that roomful of overdressed penguins is lucky to get even a glimpse of it. Now pull your head out of your ass before I have to come over and do it for you.”

Kurt stared at her, then his face cracked into an enormous grin. He pulled her into his arms. “Thank you. For everything.”

Brittany’s arms curled around the pair of them. Kurt smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. He thought about everything he had achieved in the past two years and, just for that fragment of time, he let himself feel just how proud he was of how far he had come.

Santana broke them apart, taking the garment bag off the hook Brittany had slung it on. “Enough vagina time. Let’s get this on your model and then you can go pick up your loverboy.”

---

Kurt stepped out of the car, straightening his jacket and taking a deep breath. He looked up and felt the air catch in his throat.

Blaine turned full circle on the top step, showing off every part of his suit. He stopped when he was facing Kurt again, smiling down at him. His curls were held back with gel, giving him the air of a movie star from another era, when people fell in love in black and white. The light from the lobby and streetlights sparkled off his eyes, warming them to molten honey. Kurt’s eyes roved over his perfectly fitted suit, down to his mirror-shine shoes.

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice cracking on the last word.

Blaine’s grin slipped into a soft expression. He descended the few steps and stopped in front of him. He stroked his fingertips down Kurt’s arm. “Not as beautiful as you.”

Kurt breath rushed out of him all at once and he darted forwards to capture Blaine’s lips with his. When he pulled back, Blaine looked at him with hazed eyes.

“Here.” Kurt lifted the boutonni�re he was holding, matching his, and slipped it into Blaine’s lapel. His hands lingered, palms against Blaine’s chest as he just stared at him, feeling a painfully wonderful clench around his heart at the sight of him. Blaine didn’t look away. Kurt felt something building in the silence until he thought he was about to be overwhelmed. “You ready to go?” he whispered.

“With you, always.”

---

The gala could only be described as magnificent. The women glittered with more jewels than Blaine had ever seen, the light arcing off them in shimmers. The dresses swept the floor in beautiful silks and extravagance curled in every coiffed hairstyle. The men’s shirts were crisply starched with studs in many button holes and alma mater cuff links hanging from each wrist. It was grandeur and luxury milling delicately under a carved stone dome.

Kurt pressed a hand to the small of his back. “I’m going to get us some drinks. There are some photos of last year’s show over there if you want to have a look.”

Blaine nodded, letting Kurt pull away into the crowd. He drifted in the direction Kurt had pointed, pausing in front of the photographs. He appraised each of them, feeling a great sense of pride that next year, Kurt’s design would be displayed just like these ones.

“Blainers, fancy seeing you here.”

Blaine faltered, not wanting to see the person he knew that voice was attached to. Sebastian stepped in front of him and Blaine had to hold back a flinch. Of course he would be here. He was a designer, after all.

“What’s a little rag writer like you doing in a place like this?”

“I’m here with someone,” Blaine replied tightly.

“Oh, yes, the pesky boyfriend. Thought you might have given him up by now. Fancy sneaking off to the bathroom and getting reacquainted?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Let me get you a drink at least.”

“I’ve already dealt with that, Sebastian.” Kurt pressed a glass into Blaine’s hand and slipped an arm around his waist. Blaine tried not to melt into him too overtly.

“Kurt.” Sebastian’s eyes sparkled. “I never realise how much I’ve missed you until I see you again.”

“You two know each other?” Blaine asked, placing his hand over Kurt’s on his waist.

“Fashion school,” Kurt explained. “Unfortunately.”

Sebastian just smirked.

“Blaine, why don’t you go and find our seats?”

Blaine nodded and slipped out of Kurt’s hold, disappearing into the crowd under the dome. Kurt levelled Sebastian with a glare. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I was just curious. He’s very innocent, isn’t he?”

“Shut up. Don’t speak to him anymore.”

“Oh, Kurt.” Sebastian stepped into his personal space. “Worried the Big Bad Wolf is going to take your toy away?”

Kurt scoffed at him, stepping back. “Goodbye, Sebastian. I’ll look out for you when I’m on the stage, accepting my victory.” He turned and let the dazzling gentry of New York tide him away before Sebastian could say another word.

---

B. Anderson

Blaine picked up the place name, smiled at the curling gold script, and set it back on the table. Nothing had been spared in this wonderland.

“Hello.”

He turned to the woman who had appeared at his side. She was in a sweeping dress of deep mauve, a few tendrils of her hair pinned at the back of her head, the rest curling around her shoulders and down her back. With one glance, Blaine could tell this was a woman of effortless style and impeccable taste.

She offered him her hand, which he took. “I’m Shelby Corcoran. I taught Kurt at Parsons. I’m on the committee for this show. You’re Blaine, yes?”

Blaine nodded. “Yes. I’m here with Kurt.”

Shelby smiled at him. “I must compliment you on that positively delectable suit you are wearing.” Blaine blushed. “It only adds to your glow.”

“Sorry?”

Shelby laughed – a tinkling sound that curled around Blaine. “The subtle glow of a man in love, of course.”

Blaine looked at the floor, knowing that a bashful smile was spreading across his face.

“Oh, you don’t deny it?”

He caught her eye again, finding it to be positively sparkling. “I… I know it hasn’t been long, but Kurt. Kurt makes me feel things I’ve never felt with another person. I’ve tried to shy away from it, but ‘love’ is the only word to describe how I feel about him.”

Shelby’s smile widened. She placed a hand on his arm. “I am glad to hear that. Kurt is very dear to me, always has been – although don’t tell him I said that.” She laughed again. “But I am glad he has someone like you to care of him. I wish you both the best.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded and started to turn from him.

“Miss Corcoran,” he called out, stopping her. “Please don’t tell Kurt. It’s something I need to do myself.”

Shelby nodded at him. “Don’t worry: I won’t breathe a word.”

---

Kurt gripped Blaine’s hand tightly as the announcer climbed up on stage. His eyes flicked around the room briefly, catching Sebastian’s. He smirked and raised his eyebrows. Kurt just shook his head and looked away. Sebastian thought he had won. Kurt let his eyes fall on Blaine, who turned to him.

“How are you feeling?” Blaine asked, reaching up to stroke the backs of his knuckles over Kurt’s cheekbone. Kurt wasn’t convinced Sebastian should be so sure of himself.

“Nervous.”

Blaine squeezed his hand. “I believe in you.”

The man was speaking into the microphone now, and Kurt had to pull himself away from Blaine’s gaze, although he would rather do anything else.

“And now,” said the man, grasping the microphone in one hand, “I can announce the up and coming designer who is lucky enough to get a slot in this show.” Kurt stopped breathing. “And that lucky man is… Kurt Hummel!”

Kurt heard a cheer rise around his table and across the room. He felt Blaine jump beside him and grip his hand so tightly he was going to lose sensation in his fingers, but none of it was really registering. He turned his head slowly to Blaine, staring at him. He’d won the slot and that meant… That meant that Blaine loved him. Blaine loved him.

The world came back in an explosion of sound and bright lights and the tight clutch of Blaine’s hand around his and Blaine’s beautiful eyes staring at him full of love. Kurt pulled Blaine to him and kissed him. He closed his eyes and let everything fall away, because it couldn’t be anything but the two of them right now. Blaine’s lips were warm against his, tingling with the taste of champagne and grinning through the kiss.

Kurt broke away breathless. He beamed, brushing Blaine’s hair off his forehead. “I did it,” he whispered to him, the words hitting Blaine’s lips in a gust of air.

Blaine shook his head, eyes bright. “I’m so proud to be with you.”

Kurt laughed, blinking back the tears in his eyes, and suddenly he was being swept away. People were congratulating him and he only got one more look with Blaine, a smile and a squeeze to his hand, before he was out of his seat and being passed around, Shelby guiding him with one of the few genuine smiles Kurt had ever seen on her face.

---

Blaine watched Kurt shaking hands with another circle of people, Shelby introducing him with a hand on his back. He smiled when they all laughed at something Kurt had said.

“Suits him, doesn’t it?” Blaine jumped and Sebastian chuckled in his ear, sliding to Blaine’s other side. “The way you look at him, Blainers. You should see yourself.”

“He’s my boyfriend. I can look at him however I want.”

“You stare at him like you’re totally in love.”

Blaine turned his head and stared straight at him. “I am.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. Then he smirked and the sight made Blaine’s stomach drop. “Fun.” He stepped a little closer, voice low so only Blaine could hear. “Let me tell you a story, Blaine.”

“I don’t want your mind tricks, Sebastian.”

Sebastian raised a finger to Blaine’s lips and shushed him. He pressed himself against Blaine’s back and held onto his chin, guiding it so he was staring at Kurt. “Just listen.” He patted Blaine’s cheek. “There was once an ambitious designer who wanted to get a slot in an amazing show. He was competing with another designer, someone he hated, and he would do anything to get that opportunity.”

“Sebastian—”

“I told you to be quiet.” He prowled to Blaine’s right, sliding a hand down to rest on his back. “The ambitious designer made a deal with his old teacher: be someone’s Prince Charming, make them fall in love, and he can have exactly what he wants. But that wasn’t enough for our little designer. There was something else he wanted.

“So he struck a bargain with his competitor.” He moved stand in front of Blaine, blocking his view of Kurt. “If he won, do you know what he’d get?”

Blaine stared at him for a moment, feeling like he was in a trance, then shook his head when he realised he had been asked a question.

“Him. The guy he hated. The one thing he truly desired.” Sebastian was gone, behind Blaine again, speaking beside his ear. Blaine could see Kurt now, being congratulated and toasted, Shelby by his side. “So he did it. And he won, Blaine. He gets everything he ever wanted.” He leaned in, pressed right against Blaine, breath tickling his ear. “You think he loves you?” he whispered. Then he chuckled. “You’re nothing to him.”

He was gone. Blaine took in a shuddering breath, as if Sebastian’s presence had been constricting his lungs. Kurt looked over at him and waved, smiling brightly, then turned back to the woman he had been talking to. Blaine’s knees almost gave out, but he managed to stumble to his table, sinking into his seat.

It all made sense. Everything. It slotted into place and Blaine could see Kurt’s surprised expression when his name had been announced, the way he turned to Blaine in triumph and kissed him.

Blaine touched his lips and shuddered.

He was nothing. Nothing at all.

---

Everyone was being called to their seats for the preview. Kurt broke out of conversation with an apology and started to make his way to where he and Blaine had been assigned seats. He never made it there.

“You’re Kurt Hummel!”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“Well, congratulations.” She shook his hand. “I’m Holly Holliday, editor of Haute. I’m a big fan of your designs.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry.” He gestured to Blaine, who was sitting at their table, staring into nothing. He didn’t know any of these people. He was probably lonely. Kurt suddenly felt guilty for leaving him alone. “There’s a lovely man in a tuxedo I have to get to.”

“Oh, Blaine. Yes, he’s mine.”

Kurt paused. “I’m sorry?”

“Best kept secret in the business. Great writer, but he’s in the wrong place for his gender. You know Blair Anderson’s column?”

“I – yes, she’s Blaine’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” Holly snorted. “She’s his alter ego. Don’t tell anyone I said this, because it was my idea to keep him under wraps. Getting advice from a guy never goes down as well with girls as it does from a fellow woman, so he’s better off this way. His articles, though.” She grabbed Kurt’s arm. “I’m ridiculously proud of him, you know. The one he’s writing now is going to be a bestseller, I can just tell. ‘How to…” She paused, hands raised for dramatic effect. “Lose a Guy in Ten Days’. The research is the best bit. He picked a guy and he’s been driving him away using all the mistakes girls make without realising. He’s needy, whiney, hysterical, intrusive—”

“Bi-polar, too much too fast, tells you you’ve got erectile dysfunction when you won’t let him blow you,” Kurt said, staring at Blaine. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”

Holly looked like she was about to launch back in, then she paused. “You… you’re…”

“I’m Kurt Hummel. I’m Blaine Anderson’s boyfriend.” Kurt held out his hand with a cold smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Holly gaped at him. “Shit.”

“Kurt.” Shelby was suddenly there, tugging on his elbow. “Come on, stage in one minute!”

Kurt let himself be tugged, leaving Holly Holliday staring after him with her face still frozen in a state of shock. He crossed the room and climbed onto the stage in a blur, then there were camera flashes and hundreds of faces staring up at him from the tables and his model was strutting down the small runway. He forced a smile onto his face and began to speak, explaining his vision, churning out all the things he’d memorised while his eyes scanned the room. He saw a flurry of movement near the back and, looking closer, he saw Blaine running out. He almost faltered, but he managed to rush out a final sentence and practically leap off the stage before the audience had finished applauding. Shelby tried to grab him again, but he pushed her off, running after Blaine.

He reached the top of the front steps just as Blaine got to the bottom. “Blaine!” Blaine paused, turning to look up as Kurt jogged down to him. “Is it true?” Kurt asked when he reached him.

Blaine felt the tears building up in his eyes and his hands were starting to shake. “Is what true?” he croaked.

“Am I just your little guinea pig? I’m just your research project? You drove me damn near insane just so you could write a fucking article?”

“You made me fall in love with you so you could fuck Sebastian.”

Kurt stopped, looking like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Did… did he tell you that?”

“Does it matter? Tell me it was a lie, Kurt. Please.”

“Tell me you’re not Blair Anderson.”

Blaine shook his head, tears spilling onto his cheeks. “Why him, Kurt? Why would you do that?” He pushed past Kurt.

“Blaine! Blaine, you don’t get to run away from this.” Kurt grabbed his arm, spinning him around. “You played me.”

“Oh, and you didn’t?”

“You made my life hell for nothing!”

“And you broke my heart so you could fuck someone else!” Kurt flinched, but his eyes were still blazing with anger. “Congratulations,” Blaine said, throwing his hands up. “You got your precious slot. You achieved your goal, Prince Charming. You can go let Smythe suck your dick now.”

“Well done to you, too, Blaine. Good work. You wanted to lose a guy in ten days? Done. You just. Lost him.” Kurt turned from him, but Blaine’s retort stopped him.

“No I didn’t, Kurt. ‘Cause you can’t lose something you never had.” Blaine pulled the flower from his lapel and dropped it onto the street. Kurt watched him walk away. He almost ran after him, but then Shelby was there, pulling on his arm and telling him he needed to speak to the sponsor. He followed her up the steps and into the hall. He made it through the conversation and another round of toasts before he escaped to the bathroom, curling up on the floor and starting to cry.

---

DAY 12

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
By Blair Anderson

I’ve lost a guy and I don’t know why.

Ever had trouble holding onto a guy? Not sure why he’s suddenly unavailable? You’re not the only one.

When I started writing this article, I thought it would just be an interesting experiment, trying to drive a guy away with the classic errors girls make in relationships. I never realised I’d end up hurt.

This guy was sweet. He was kind, funny, cooked the most amazing food; in short, he was perfect. He was my Prince Charming. But here I am at the end of it all, a princess without even a frog to kiss, all because I pushed him away. I was needy and crazy and called him twenty times a day, but that’s not what made him give up on me. I thought he cared enough to want to be with me despite everything I was putting him through, but I guess he wasn’t the only one being played.

I’ll tell you now, readers, this isn’t just an article about what women do wrong and how to avoid it; it’s an insight into the way men can destroy a relationship before it’s even started because they’re thinking with their dicks and not their brains. Call that a stereotype? Well, it had to become a stereotype somehow, didn’t it? We’re all stereotypes, really. It’s how we move within those chains of expectation that decides who we are.

I did everything to be the girl from hell. I was needy, whiney, so hot and cold I was getting personality whiplash. I insulted his ability to get it up (and believe me, that does not go down well), I crashed in on his time with his friends. There are lacy pillows in an apartment in New York that do not belong there and a painting in beer on a wall that probably left him smelling like an alcoholic for a week. It was DEFCON 5. Nothing would crack him. I guess that should have been a sign.

I won’t trouble you with the whole story – I have a word count to keep to. There are things I will say, though. Just when I started to think I was something, if not everything, I came to realise that I was nothing at all. I was a game, a bet, a means to an end. He wanted sex with someone else and my love was the way to get that.

It must have been some bizarre twist of fate that paired the two of us. The Damsel and the Cad, tied together. I almost want to laugh at the odds.

I do have a point. I have a nub that I’m angling towards. This is supposed to be a guide, after all. I do want to tell you all that acting the way I did, no matter the guy, rarely brings about good results. The best way to keep a guy is not to wrap your fingers tight around him. You can’t give in to all his wants, and he can’t give in to all of yours. That’s not how functioning relationships work.

As hard as it may be, you have to keep from meddling. Everything works better when you’re yourself and let everything happen. I thought I was teaching people that with these last ten days. I didn’t realise how much I needed to learn.

A note for the guys (I know you’re out there): Think. Think. Think well before you act, and think with the thing in your head. No, not that head.

And so we come to my conclusion. I have revealed enough of myself to shock you all, I am sure, but give me just a minute more of your time. I have something else to say. You look at the name at the head of this article every month and you never think anything of it. It’s just a name. Well, perhaps you should. I’m a deceitful person through and through, it would seem, because I’ve been lying to you all. I’m no Blair. I’m no stiletto-wearing, tote-toting girl in this season’s best dress. I’m Blaine Anderson, gay male New Yorker, Ivy graduate, gay rights and equality activist, fashion trend follower, bowtie sporter, girl-with-a-schlong. (And all, all man, as I’ve been told.) I’m a man in love, and up until this point that whole and irrevocable truth has been revealed to no one in full.

I suppose that, in a way, I’ve betrayed you. I’m sorry for that. I’ve never been one for lying, but I seem to have been doing nothing but lately. I won’t beg for forgiveness, although I do hope for it.

Now for the final part – and I promise this really is the end. Quite literally. This is my last article for Haute. This magazine has been good to me and I will always love it, and the people who work to make it what it is. But I’m off now, into the big wide world, to write the things I truly want to write. Hopefully this time, I can keep only the truth on my tongue. My gratitude goes out to every one of my readers, and I promise that I will miss you. Thank you for this year.

---

“Read it.” Santana shoved the magazine in his face.

“No.” He continued to survey the mannequin critically.

“Kurt, seriously. You have to read it.”

“Fuck off, Santana. I don’t have to do anything. Blaine can write whatever the fuck he wants; it has no bearing on my life.”

She huffed and grabbed the magazine back, flicking it open and reading aloud. “‘I’ve lost a guy and I don’t know why.’”

Kurt growled in the back of his throat.

“He says you were his Prince Charming.”

“Santana, I told you—”

“I don’t care.” She slammed the magazine into his chest. “Read.”

Kurt glared at the mannequin, but he took the magazine. He shook it out and glanced over the few parts of the article which stood out in large text. “I’ll be in my office,” he murmured.

Santana titled her head at him, then grinned. “Wanky.”

Kurt whacked her with the magazine.

---

He didn’t know why his palms were sweating as he waited for the door to be opened. He thought he had prepared himself for this moment. He had pushed all thoughts of Blaine’s article to the back of his mind, along with the memory of Santana’s face when he had revealed where he was going.

The door swung open to reveal Sebastian, smirk already in place, with a bottle of champagne in his hand. “Kurt.”

“Sebastian.”

“Do come in.” Sebastian barely stepped out of the way, so Kurt was forced to press up against him as he entered the apartment. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your win.” Sebastian popped the champagne and poured it into two flutes. He handed one to Kurt and chinked his own against it. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“I hope your evening wasn’t ruined by your boyfriend,” Sebastian said, as though he were genuinely concerned. Kurt flinched. Sebastian let out the breath of a laugh, putting on a thoughtful expression. “I haven’t seen Blaine in a while.” He sipped his champagne. “I’m sad our reunion was so tainted.”

Some of the words Blaine had yelled at him started to clear through the angry fog in Kurt’s mind. “You know him.”

“In a sense.”

Kurt swigged his champagne. “You slept with him.”

“Just the once, Kurt, don’t get jealous. I fear I was a little rude, though. He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“What did you do to him?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I kicked him out as soon as we finished. I was tired and I knew he’d want to lie down and hold me and talk and I just was not in the mood. So I told him to leave.” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, puffing on it gently.

Kurt looked away, feeling a pressure building behind his eyes. “You made him feel like shit.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Kurt, you know that. He should have known going in that it was just a fuck. It wasn’t anything that mattered.” He set down his glass and flicked out the cigarette with a sigh. “You get yourself a drink of water. Get him out of your head. I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Kurt let him go in silence. He pulled a glass from a cupboard in the kitchen; filled it and downed it in one go. He gripped the edges of the sink and closed his eyes, leaning his head heavily against the window.

He had to stop thinking about Blaine. He was about to get something he’d wanted for over four years. Kurt was still a romantic under the shell, but he knew Sebastian; he knew this was a one-time thing and he should savour it. Like he had said, it wasn’t something that mattered. There would be no after.

Sebastian was lying on the bed when he entered the room, already naked and hard, stroking his cock lazily. He reached out his hand with a smile and Kurt took it, letting himself be pulled onto the bed. Sebastian’s hand didn’t let up and he just watched Kurt as he jerked himself off slowly.

Kurt wanted to be sick.

He sat up and turned his back to Sebastian. He should want this. After all these years waiting, he should want it. But he didn’t. He didn’t care about fucking Sebastian; he didn’t need it the way he had. He wanted something else. He wanted romance and soft, sweet moans echoing off bathroom walls and love.

He wanted Blaine.

“Kurt.”

He stood up without looking back.

“Kurt! Hummel, where the fuck are you going? Kurt! Kurt!” Sebastian heard the slam of his front door and was frozen, staring at the empty space in his room where Kurt should be. He grabbed the champagne glass from his bedside table and threw at the door, watching it shatter.

It fell to the ground in bits, just chunks of fragment. He breathed hard, waiting. The glass did not repair itself. The crack and shatter didn’t rewind. Kurt didn’t come back. There was silence.

---

Kurt knocked repeatedly on Blaine’s door. “Blaine, let me in, please. I need to see you. I know you probably don’t want to, but, Blaine, please, just…” He banged on the wood again. There was no sound from inside.

“He’s not home.”

Kurt jumped. The woman from the apartment next door had popped her head out.

“He went out,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I passed him on the way in.”

Kurt pulled back from the door. “Did he say where he was going?”

“No, honey, sorry. Is it urgent?”

Kurt bit his lip and looked at the door again. “I… I just need to see him.”

“Do you want me to tell him you dropped by? I can give him a message. Or you could call him if you like. I’ve got his number.”

“No, no, I have it, too. I just… I can’t say it over the phone, even if he would pick up.” He slumped against the wall. “I’ll come back some other time. Thanks.” He smiled at her and she nodded in return.

“He’s a sweet guy, Blaine. I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is.”

Kurt hung his head. “I hope so.”

---

DAY 13

Kurt walked through the glass doors of Haute’s building, looking around him. A sign pointed him to the fifth floor, so he stepped into an elevator. He tapped his hand against his thigh the whole ride up, the beat picking up speed the longer he stood there. At last, the doors opened on the right floor and he sped past the reception desk without bothering to ask for directions.

He spotted two women standing together between two cubicles. He dashed over to them. “Excuse me.”

They both jumped, staring at him with wide eyes, and one of them let out an “Oh my god.”

“I’m looking for Blaine Anderson. Or Blair, or whatever. Blaine. I’m looking for Blaine.”

“He’s not here,” one of them, a black girl, said. “He left.”

“Left?” He had read the article; he should have been prepared, but when he looked at the empty desk behind them he felt his stomach drop. “Where’s he gone?”

“He quit.”

“Well where can I find him? Please.”

She glanced sideways at the girl standing beside her, looking unsure. Kurt’s eyes slid across to her, too. Something about her face sparked recognition, but he couldn’t place it.

“Do you think he’s…?” the black girl asked.

“That’s where he always goes. I’m not sure, though. He’s pretty secretive about it.”

Kurt’s eyes darted between them, trying to piece together what it was they were and were not saying. As they frowned, he got it. “Botanical Garden.”

They turned to him, both looking slightly shocked. “How did you—?”

“I’m in love with him: I know him.” He grinned and turned to run out of the building again. He paused, though, the wide-eyed expression of one of the women triggering something in his mind. He swung back to her. “You’re not a therapist, are you?”

Rachel gaped at him for a moment, then laughed nervously. “Oh. No.”

“I want my money back,” he called back as he dashed towards the elevator.

---

He had chosen a bench in the rose garden. It was set back a little, with stems growing up all around, weighed down with petals in almost every colour. He had drawn his knees up to his chest and watched the people walk by, the corners of his eyes watching the rose heads sway in the almost-breeze.

He had always known if he were to bring Kurt to the Garden, he would bring him here. It suited him. There was something about the clean geometry of the paths and the sprawling vibrancy of the classic flowers that evoked KurtKurtKurt to Blaine. Perhaps coming here had been a bad idea, but he needed it. It was as close as he could get, even if it was all in his head.

He wondered if he had read it yet. If he ever would. Blaine knew he had bared far more of himself than was normal for his job in that one article, but he had been unable to write it any other way. Nothing else did Kurt justice. It was all or nothing with him, and Blaine thought his choice was pretty clear. He had nothing left to do but hope, and he was pretty sure he shouldn’t even do that.

He wondered whether they’d fucked yet. They probably hadn’t waited long. They might have done it the night of the gala. Kurt was probably climaxing while Rachel pulled the ice cream out of the freezer.

Something kept pulling Blaine’s thoughts back to Hummel-Hudson house. He had really thought, for those two days, that Kurt cared about him. He felt a sharp ache at the loss of Burt and Carole, of Finn and his family. They had shown him what family was supposed to be. If he had known he could never have that again, he would have treasured it even more dearly. As it was, he knew he would never see them again, unless Kurt searched for him, fought for him.

At first, Blaine hadn’t wanted him to. He had been overrun by anger, which had quickly dropped into feeling like his heart was being torn apart cell by cell. He had hated Kurt. He had screamed and cried at Mercedes and Rachel as they fed him sugary goods.

(“Who does he think he is? He can’t just walk in and mess with my life and do not say that’s what I did to him because it is not the same thing! He was playing with my heart and I was just – just… He’s a dick. A dick who thinks with his dick, fuck him. Fuck him for making me love him. Fuck me for being so stupid. I can’t believe I made it all up in my head.”)

He’d slept it off, though, and woke up feeling empty. Rachel had dropped the magazine onto his bed and tried to make him get up and go to work. That’s when he told her he’d quit the day before. I want that article on my desk by the end of tomorrow. Why, of course. Have a letter of resignation to wash that down. She’d hit him. He hadn’t even bothered to flinch.

The article had been a hit. The magazine was selling out of copies faster than it ever had and Mercedes told him she was pretty sure that had nothing to do with the diamond ads. Blaine hadn’t even opened his copy yet. It was sitting at the bottom of a drawer in his dresser, hiding under his clothes so he didn’t tear it to pieces.

Holly had looked like she was going to cry. She kept apologising, but Blaine really didn’t know why. He was the quitter here; it was his fault.

His mother had called. Three times, actually. The first two he hadn’t picked up: the first, he was sitting on the floor of his shower as water pounded onto him and wondering why every single thing had to remind him of the one thing he wanted to forget; the second, he had been freaking out about the fact that his mother who hadn’t spoken to him since Christmas and hadn’t looked at him properly since he was sixteen was calling him. The third, his hands were shaking so much he had to put her on loudspeaker.

“Blaine, darling, are you okay?”

“Mom?”

“You sound like you’ve been crying. Have you been crying? Oh, Blaine.”

“Mom, what’s going on? Why are you… why are you calling me?”

“Your nice friend Mercedes phoned me, told me to pick up your magazine. Honey, what did he do to you? I’m so sorry.”

Blaine’s throat had closed up and he hadn’t been able to speak. His mother kept talking into the phone, getting more frantic the longer he didn’t reply. When she sounded near breakdown, he managed to find his voice again. “This seems a bit out of the blue.”

“What are you talking about? Do you mean…Oh, no, Blaine, don’t worry about that. I’ve spoken to your father about it. He just wants you to be his son. We both do and I’m sorry we let anything come in the way of that.”

“I didn’t know my sexuality was such an obstruction. Sounds like there’s something wrong with me. I should go get checked out.”

“Blaine, stop it, I’m trying to apologise here. I love you. Now, are you going to tell me what this boy did to you and let me mother you over the phone, or am I going to have to sit here and assume the worst?”

He’d missed her, he realised. He’d always tried not to, but over the years he’d forgotten how perfect she was when he needed her. He’d cried again when he told her the whole story, but he’d been expecting that.

A man with a dog turned onto the path in front of him, searching the garden around him. Blaine was tempted to look for Meg Ryan amongst the flower stems. He watched the pair break into a jog, followed them with his eyes until they reached the end of the path, where the man swept a little boy up into his arms. Again, where was Meg?

Blaine dropped his legs, dangling them over the side of the bench again, feet hitting the ground, and hands leaning on the wood slats. He didn’t know why he was waiting. Kurt wouldn’t find him here, even if he was looking. Blaine doubted that he would be. He was probably curled around Sebastian, bathed in curtained sunlight, wrapped in white sheets and looking heartbreakingly perfect.

He pushed himself to his feet. There would be no more waiting.

He was just reaching the end of the path, taking a last look at the roses around him, when someone turned the corner. He stopped, trying not to run into them, and looked up.

“Blaine! Blaine, thank god, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Kurt grabbed his hands. “I knew you’d be here, but there are so many gardens.”

“Kurt?” Blaine stared at him, wondering whether the sunlight was tricking him. Maybe the breeze wasn’t as strong as he’d thought. Maybe he’d got heatstroke and was hallucinating. Kurt squeezed his fingers and all the air rushed back into Blaine’s body because he was real. “Kurt.”

“Did you mean it? What you said in the article, did you mean it?”

“I-I… Yes. Every word.”

Kurt let out a breathless laugh. He stepped forwards, but Blaine pushed him back.

“What about Sebastian?”

“What do you mean?” Kurt’s eyes flicked between each of Blaine’s. He was breathing a little too quickly.

“You know what I mean. Did you have sex with him?”

Kurt shook his head frantically. “No. He was right there, waiting, but I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want it any more.”

“Did he not live up to your standards?”

“Blaine, no. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want him because he wasn’t the right person. Because he wasn’t you.” Kurt took Blaine’s face in his hands. “I don’t want anyone but you, and I am so sorry that I hurt you the way I did. I’ll always regret letting you slip away for something as stupid as Sebastian. He means nothing to me. He’s not the person I’m in love with.”

Blaine laid his hands over Kurt’s. “Say that again.”

“What?”

Blaine laughed. “That last bit.”

“He’s not who I’m in love with.”

“Well, whoever that guy is, he sounds pretty lucky.”

Kurt dropped his head with a laugh, before looking up at Blaine from under his eyelashes. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He stroked his thumbs over his cheekbones. “I love you. Blaine, or Blair, or… or a dinosaur, I don’t know, I love you.”

Blaine curled his fingers over Kurt’s, drawing them under his own and pulled their hands to their sides. “Blair’s not here any more.”

“I know. I read.”

He ran a thumb over Kurt’s bottom lip, eyes drawn to his, stuck. Kurt was pulling his heart out of his chest, Blaine could feel it. “I love you.”

Kurt smiled under Blaine’s thumb. He kissed the pad of it. They didn’t say anything for a moment. They continued to stare at each other, completely captivated. Kurt could feel his heart against his ribs, trying to climb out to Blaine.

“We’re crazy, you know that?”

“Why?”

“People don’t fall in love in ten days, Blaine.”

“Every rule has an exception, doesn’t it?”

Kurt laughed; nodded, eyes sparkling. “With you, yes.”

They didn’t really know who leaned in first, but they were kissing then. Ten days didn’t matter, nor bets, nor articles. It was just them, kissing in a rose garden, two exceptions, ruled together.

---

The glass is frosted over now. Winter has set in and the window box is steeped in snow. Through the cold-powdered glass, the same room is still visible. It isn’t overtly different, but if you look harder, it’s everywhere. There is a sketchbook next to a coffee mug on the desk. There are new pictures, the crack near the ceiling is gone, the wardrobes are about to burst. The comfortable cushions are still there, and the bed is still unmade, but it isn’t empty.

A steaming cup has just been set on the bedside table. A man leans over another, sprawled out on his front, face pressed into the pillow. He kisses his cheek, strokes his back. When the man in the bed starts to stir, he crawls in beside him. He cards fingers through his hair until groggy eyes open.

If you look closely enough, you can see the first words that stumble from his sleep-lumbered lips on a New York winter morning: I love you.

The other man smiles, kisses the back of one shoulder blade. He reaches under the bed and pulls out a blue sketchbook, fingers slipping over the silver detailing in the corners. He opens it, picks up a pencil, puts on a serious expression. When he looks back down, the other man’s eyes have drifted closed. His face softens. He reaches out to trace a fingertip down his spine, but pulls back. He doesn’t want to wake him. He turns to a blank page, not dragging his eyes away from him for a second, and starts to sketch.

A girl steps on a puddle of ice on the street below. It is quarter to nine in the morning. The world is stretching its limbs out, waking up, and beginning again.