Blaine is still getting used to it. He's still getting used to the constant flurry of attention, the men wearing thick coats ducking behind bushes with cameras, the kids that follow him around times square, the questions, the slurs, the opinions, the constant demand for him.

He remembers the morning that Kurt had curled around him at the breakfast island, kissing whispered words into his skin as they prepared to leave for a meeting. He could see the steely determine and slight un-surety in those storm cloud eyes, but also the softness in the lines of his face, the smug pride seeping into his stance and posture. He knew something was coming that day, something big and final.

And then, after the meeting when most of the suits had piled out of the room, save for a couple of familiar friendly faces, Kurt had taken Blaine's hand (something not uncommon for them) but had then lead him over to the table, perched against the edge and pulled Blaine close, looking deeply into his eyes, hands entwined swaying between them whilst asking where he wanted to go for lunch.

Then at the restaurant Kurt rarely moved his fingers away from the nape of Blaine's neck, teasing his curls out of place unless it was vital that he used two hands for eating with. Then out on the sidewalk when he kept Blaine close by his side, hips bumping, telling some funny tale whilst smiling widely at Blaine with both his lips and his eyes, even after they had already clocked the guy in the hat with the flashing camera in his hand across the road.

The tabloid headlines that week and the ones following were certainly interesting, but if anything they lightened up their morning reading on their daily commute to wherever it was they were headed that day. Kurt had made the decision to establish and confirm their relationship and that thought alone left Blaine smiling to himself all day long. They could handle the aftermath together, after what they had already gone through and accomplished together, Blaine is pretty sure that they can do anything.       

To be honest it's nothing really that he's not exactly used to from before. He's used to the busy twitter feed and non-stop notifications, the endless friend requests, although now he's decided it's for the best to deactivate his personal face book account.

He knows now how to ‘pr' himself in whatever situation he's in, what to say, what not to say, how to act, how to smile. It's nothing that he's not totally used to. It's just this time it's different.

He's still getting used to how different it is, adapting to the change, the increase of intensity and emotions. He still pinches himself, to make sure he's not dreaming.

It's still a little awkward though at times, looking at edited photos and hand drawn pictures that people have sent to him, of himself in compromising positions involving Kurt, reading the fictional stories about their sex lives, their supposed engagement, and then the following big white wedding, the marriage for years to come and their small tribe of kids and pets. (Because of course Jester had apparently also found his happy ending with a gorgeous Siamese down the block.)

It's all still very strange, but he's getting used to it.

He's getting used to things being ok, to things be allowed and classed as normal. Holding Kurt's hand whilst out in public, settling his hand in the crook of his elbow, petting his knee or his thigh, rubbing a smudge from his face, letting his gaze linger a little longer than any other regular employee should stare at their boss.

He's still getting used to the feeling of waking up beside somebody every single day, who's not his cat.

Even the original ‘attention whore' Jester himself seems to be on his way to a merchandise deal, Blaine's pretty sure that he somehow has his own twitter account too.

So yes, it's all very strange and he's still getting used to everything, adjusting and adapting, but it's ok. It's ok because he's not alone.

Blaine's getting used to sharing his space, in all terms of the word. Sharing his underwear drawer, sometimes his underwear it's self, his socks and bowties and suspenders, and not just materialistic items. He now shares his favourite song and movie (sound track to match), he cannot make himself a snack without needing to make enough for two, he shares his alone and quiet times walking through central park hand in hand, or squeezed close into corner of the steam room, all hot and sweaty and intimate.

He's acquired just as much as he has had to share. Such as new hair and skincare products, new bathroom counter space and a new home for his toothbrush, a new pillow to fold his PJ's underneath, a new dip in the mattress that remembers and moulds his body shape perfectly.

He no longer shares sleeping place with just a fur ball, his body has learned how to shift in the dark still of the night to accompany warm seeking skin, groping hands, searching fingers and thrusting hips.

All of those changes, those little delights and oddities had taken place a little over a month or so ago. Blaine is pondering these thoughts one quiet Sunday morning whilst sitting at the dark cherry wood baby grand piano, that miraculously seemed to appear one day a short while ago and has resided ever since by the back wall of the main room.

He's been playing more, singing and writing notes and words, music of all types in his head, lyrics and melodies springing to him almost every hour of the day, from every direction. Whether it's a catchy note he hears ringing out from the early morning birdsong outside of the bedroom window, the clattering of glass bottles from the milk truck, the sight of children skipping to school, or even an elderly couple crossing the road hand in hand. He's suddenly inspired by life, his new life, his new perspective, finally woken up to endless opportunities waiting for him, and it's not because of the new musical instrument, it's because of the person that put it there, the person that provided it for Blaine, has provided him with so much.

Kurt strides in to the room briskly, Jester not far behind him and the sight still never fails to cause Blaine's fingers to clumsily fall out of place against the piano keys, breath catching in his throat and eyes burning into dark smouldering gold orbs.

Kurt's dressed in a pair of his old dark jeans hanging low on his waist and one of Blaine's old work out hoodies fixed over the top. He shuffles barefoot further into the room closer to Blaine at the piano, whilst peering down at his phone in his hands.

Blaine smiles at the sight, Sunday Kurt will and always will be his favourite, and Because Kurt utilized both of their wardrobes Blaine decided to forgo any clothes at all and opted for just his floor length navy silk robe.

Kurt comes close and he shifts to make room for him on the small bench, shaking his head at Jester who looks disgruntled at the fact that there is no room for him to join and too lazy to try and hop up on one of their laps anyway.

“Have you read this?” Kurt says quietly, extending his phone into Blaine's line of vision, smiling when his hand is swatted away and Blaine shakes his head side to side and plays the wrong key. Blaine finishes up whatever he was doing with a small fancy flourish which makes Kurt laugh and turns inwards, facing Kurt and swinging his legs over the bench so that they're on either side of Kurt's knees, his robe splitting just so down the middle, reveal a delicious fraction of dark hair lined muscled legs. 

“My phone's in the office. I thought we agreed no phones on Sundays, hmm.” Blaine leans forward and nips at Kurt's jaw, his teeth slightly grazing his morning stubble. He pitches his voice deep and low, rasped against the skin of Kurt's throat, he can feel the vibration of Kurt inhaling and swallowing against his lips as he mouths downwards in small rhythmic patterns as he continues to talk.

“Sunday's are turn off days.” He glances up to see Kurt looking slightly flushed, slowly coming undone with a playful smirk on the corner of his lips but his eyes still fixated on the phone in his hand. Blaine smoothes his fingers over Kurt's waist, settling over the thick downy faded fabric of his hoodie until he reaches the hem and he's greeted with the feeling of warm and smooth skin on skin.

“Or should I say rather, turn on days.” He rasps as he pushes his fingers upwards over Kurt's flat abdomen and chest, guiding the sweatshirt up as he goes.

Kurt moans, loud and breathy, the rumbling pulsing against Blaine's mouth as he grins, tongue flicking out at the tip just as he reaches Kurt's areola. Kurt's free hand seems to come out of nowhere digging into Blaine's hair and pushing back lightly, causing Blaine's lips to pull away with a slick wet gasp.

Kurt grins down at him, bops his nose and says, “You know me, I don't turn off. Ever.” He grins wider, salaciously even and Blaine surges up kissing him hard.

Eventually they part breathily as Blaine pulls back, eyes glimmering with the morning sun filtering in through the far window and taps a finger against Kurt's phone which he has managed to still keep in his hand. “What were you reading, that needs both of our attention on this fine day of rest?” 

Kurt smiles and presses at his phone to wake it up, he thumbs at the screen before turning it around to show Blaine the email.

It's an invitation to some future star studded event, similar to many that they have received before, full to the brim with fancy words, recognisable names and offerings of freebies and publicity galore. Only this time as Blaine's eyes quickly scan the page, unsure as to why Kurt is so bothered about this invite in particular, he notices that the wording is slightly different.

It's more personally addressed, more casual and friendly and instead of the usual ‘Mr K Hummel and guest or plus one', Blaine's name is carefully written beside Kurt's. Blaine is invited too, actually him, and not just inevitably because Kurt has been invited.

But what really gets Blaine's attention is the following sweet dainty limerick.

Stars under the stars…

‘It's that time of year again when we sing, drink and eat, but hopefully not in the rain.

We'll dance under the stars, in the arms of our lover's,

and if the heavens open, the DJ won't stop, we'll duck under the covers.

It's time to raise awareness and cash, and party the night away at our couple's duo fundraiser bash.'

“Are you done, have you read it?” Kurt's voice is soft, breaking Blaine out of his reverie as his eyes trace over the words, again and again.

Lovers, couples, duo.

“Blaine?” Kurt smiles, ducking into Blaine's line of vision and pulling at his chin with hooked fingers.

Blaine snaps his parted lips closed which must have fell open on their own accord, and darts his eyes back to Kurt's which are sparkling, hues of blues and greens and misty greys. He hands the phone back to Kurt who places it down on the lip of the piano.

“You wanna go?” Kurt asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“They've invited us as a couple Kurt, they consider us a couple, like a real one.” Blaine says, his lips lifting at the corners and his eyes filling with childlike awe and wonder, much like his tone.

He doesn't know exactly who this ‘they' are that he's referring to, to be honest ‘they' are more likely a collective group than just one or two people -figuratively speaking. But whoever ‘they' are, Blaine loves them.

He doesn't know why this is such a big deal to him, why it's rendered him almost speechless and formed a lump in his throat and a slight wet sting behind his eyelids.

“Are we not a couple?” Kurt asks lowly, a finger sweeping over Blaine's cheek and landing to his full lower lip, pressing down right on his cute little pout. Blaine blushes, his long dark eye lashes fluttering downwards, fanning against the rosy tips of his cheeks as he nods. Kurt smiles, scoots closer and lifts his knees up so that they are hooked over Blaine's legs, almost sitting in his lap. “So, you wanna go, as a couple?”

Blaine had always considered he and Kurt as a couple of some sort, even back when he was pretty certain that Kurt would never allow anything to happen between them. He had still dreamt up and imagined a million scenarios in his head when he and Kurt were known as a pair, personally, intimately not just professionally.   

Blaine nods again bashfully, unable to voice anything remotely coherent as he rubs his hands over Kurt's legs, fingers grasping at the bulk of his thighs whilst he licks his lips slightly, his eyes roaming Kurt's face.

It's another ‘pinch me' moment, another instance in which Blaine hopes he will never wake up. How did he get this lucky, when do things like this ever happen to him? How do they keep happening?

“Good, I was hoping that you'd agree.” Kurt whispers as he connects their mouths together, smiling into a peppering of light kisses.

This, Blaine thinks, is settling. Right here, right now, he feels settled. There are still many things in which he is still getting used and adapting too, adjusting himself to accordingly, but as Kurt moans into his mouth, threads his fingers through his hair and scratches at his scalp, there are many things which Blaine knows are just right. No room for change or improvement, they just are, he and Kurt will always be just them. Settled.

Kurt stands slowly, pulling Blaine up with him and slinking off and away from the bench as he tucks his hands around Blaine's shoulders, tugging him forward. Jester mewls and hops up taking residence on the vacated bench as Kurt leads Blaine away out in to the entrance hall towards the staircase.

“I was thinking, that maybe we could debut those suits from my upcoming Mr & Mr range?” Kurt says, spinning as he hits the first step, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Blaine's eyes darken, his feet lifting heavily to clumsily lead him up the stairs behind Kurt, his mind already disengaging and wandering elsewhere along with his eyes. “Model for me?”

Kurt's eyes flash like thunderstorms, “Let's make it a dual.”