“Carole, come on what is this? We talked about this, I already said, I-what? No- well yes but you said- no, no it's not, no I am not-ugh ok I am, but listen Carole it's, I don't need a-”

Kurt exhales, loud and deeply, moving the mouthpiece of the headset away from his face slightly and rubs at his tired eyes. It's a Saturday night, it's late, he's tired and hungry, and there's a bottle of wine waiting with his name on it. He's been stuck in his office all day, caught up in a tangle of deadlines and persistent ignoramus assholes that wont stop calling or emailing him for his attention, and his money.

This is the last thing that he had expected to have to deal with, but after ignoring Carole's third consecutive phone call, he figured he'd better pick up. Now he wished he'd thought better of it.

He loves Carole, he appreciates the help and support that she extends to him regularly, though he sometimes would call it constant bugging, she calls it love. She's one of the few people who he actually has patience and time left for. They're rather similar, of personality and humour and because of that they get each other, they understand and tolerate each other and Carole knows how and when to push him. She thinks it's her motherly instincts, her parental tone that Kurt is subconsciously submitting to, but god knows that he wouldn't listen to his father, the way that he does to her, it's odd, but nice all the same.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, stretching back in his desk chair and rolls his neck, focusing back in on the conversation. There is no point in doing anything right now but resign, placate her at least, if just a little.

“Ok Carole, yes ok, I'll take a look, but no promises ok? What-yes ok I know, I remember, yes I'll look right now, and then I'll text you.”

The conversation finally ends a few minutes later after Kurt's ear literally feels like it's been chewed off from the eruption of words and sounds that Carole had been making from the other end of the phone line.

She hangs up happily, pacified that Kurt will, for once learn to trust, learn to let himself hope and feel, and ultimately just do as he's told.

*

An hour later finds Kurt showered, dressed in a pair of lounge pants and a loose t-shirt whilst stretched out on his bed, propped up by pillows. There's a bowl of reheated bacon and parmesan linguini and an opened bottle of merlot on his night stand, hardly the healthy dinner combination at this time of night but he has zero fucks to give and nobody around to tell him otherwise.

Next to him on the bed his laptop sits open, with his emails up and the most recent attachment from Carole ready to be clicked and opened up. He knows what it is, he had expected it before Carole had even called to say she had forwarded it to him, but that doesn't mean that he wants to look at it. This is all happening too fast, how has a conversation spanned to this in such a short space of time, what is Carole's hurry? What's her deal?

With a sigh he clicks the download button waiting for it to load whilst lazily reaching for a fork full of delicious carbs, followed by a swallow of rich red wine. What has even made this kid, this-he can't even remember the name Carole had mentioned, so special that out of the -no doubt- hundreds of applicants, Carole has chosen this one, just this one guy, to show Kurt, to present to him like a fucking offering.

The whole ‘personal assistant' thing is still a moot point of sorts. The idea was brought to Kurt's attention during a rather random and much too in-depth phone call with Carole a little over a week ago, and she has not let it drop since. Carole has been very persistent with her approach methods in her time but has always known when it's best to back down or agree to compromise, but this had seemed to be something that Carole was hell bent on Kurt siding with her for, or at least agreeing to think about the idea, to humour it and not veto it straight away.

His many attempts at deferring the situation were just a waste of time and he may as well of just held his breath.

“Carole I don't' need a personal assistant, I can handle my business just fine thank you very much-”

“Well don't think about it from a business point of view then Kurt. Think about it from a personal position, it would be nice having someone around you-”

“I have Sam and Santana and…you-”

“We're family and friends dear, you'll always have us, you're stuck with us I'm afraid. But what about somebody new, somebody different, somebody new to trust and to hang out with and-”

“Carole I don't need somebody like that interfering with my private life-”

“Interfering is not the right word to use sweetheart, and it's hardly private, you're in the newspapers and on the internet all of the time. What you think is private I would call ‘intimate' and why not let somebody explore that side of you?”

"Maybe thats the problem Carole, maybe they dont, they wont like me, because of what they think they know about me? What if they just take this job as an opportunity to get under my skin and then get paid $100,000 for selling my story, my life?"

Ok so maybe that last part was a little out there, and he's getting to carried away with himself, but its a fear that Kurt has and just cant shake off. Even the mere thought of the multiple conversations about it cause Kurt's temples to throb and pulse heavily under his skin, his eyes closing, aching to rest, to turn it all off, to make it all go away.

How insane. You can't just hire a person to be your friend or whatever. Carole is insane. Gorgeous yes in more than one way, and he will love her forever for the fact that she will not give up on him, but still insane. But at the same time, as much as Kurt is hating himself for even entertaining the small niggling thought, and it is absolutely, so totally completely insane, it's still not the worse suggestion that has ever been made.

Kurt is lonely, whether he admits that aloud or just to himself, the fact is still true. Yes he's liked and even loved, by people near and far, he has Sam and Santana, and Carole and then of course there is his dad sitting somewhere out on a fishing lake or with his head in the bonnet of a car, they may not be talking, but he's still there, his dad is still amazing and he still loves him.

But that doesn't stop Kurt from the feeling the way he does, when he's sitting home alone at night after Santana has stumbled her way home or to her girlfriends, or when he's in the back of the Lexus after he and Sam have just dropped Carole off at the airport. He always returns to an empty home, to a feeling of emptiness, a head of too much thoughts and a heart too full, just not of the right stuff.

He's thought about a pet of some sort, has always been rather fond of Cats, and would be nice to have a small furry friend around maybe, but he just can't find the time to think about looking after another living breathing body, not when he lives alone, he struggles just with himself.

He rarely attends public events now, when he does, he makes sure that they're low key, with minimal coverage and guest access. The amount of times he's stood in the corner sipping on champagne he doesn't even like whilst pretentious ‘wannabes' flail around him, latching on to each others elbows and laughing in the most fake and awful of ways.

Sure that used to be part of the appeal for him, aside from the love of what he does and the positive response he is greeted with because of his clothing lines and works, but ultimately it's the whole razzmatazz, the bright lights, sequins and sparkles and the jabbering tongues that reeled him into the showbiz world, the need to be like, the feeling of being wanted.

Though now he couldn't think of anything worse, than going to one of those things, standing alone by the bar and watching as the world goes by in a flash of faux fur and patent leather whether he's willing to partake anymore or not.

Ok so it's totally not the worse idea that Carole has ever come up with in her mission to try and do something with what Kurt calls his life. It would nice to have someone around, someone there even just for a short while on some days, to take to those stupid events, or to just have coffee with, or whatever, someone to talk to, to just let himself be with.

Sam is too quiet and adorably silly to pull from behind the safety of his steering wheel and lord knows that Santana is just too… Santana. But it's still a little weird, the thought of hiring someone he doesn't know, to fill that void, to take that place. He'd have to make jobs just for the assistant to do, that's not necessarily a problem and of course the salary is not even an issue in the slightest, it's just, it's different, it's new, it's somebody else in Kurt's life, in his home, its uncharted territory.

All the while Kurt has been lost in his own head, thinking such deep thoughts his fingers have absentmindedly taken over control of the cursor pad and opened up the newly downloaded file. His eyes refocus from the blurry daze of the emptiness of his dark bedroom and drag back to the screen.

Blaine Anderson.

Nice name, Kurt thinks and then tuts at himself for even thinking something so silly and irrelevant, Carole is having too much of an effect on him. Kurt sips at his wine and prods at his pasta with the fork, half eating it and half playing with it, whilst his eye skim the page, his finger scrolling downwards using the movement bar and pad.

Blaine is a Singer and Musician from Queens, born and raised in Westerville, Ohio. Oh of course, the kid doesn't have any experience in business or admin, or even in any areas of fashion, but he likes music and is from Lima, the most amazing place on earth, of course Carole would put him forward. He continues with a roll of his eyes.

He's educated, well. Dalton Academy is rather prestigious, Kurt remembers the private school stories from his lovely public high school days, this is something that bodes well for Blaine, Kurt supposes. Majored at Boston university, appears to have done rather well for himself since, Kurt can't deny that he's impressed and a little intrigued but apart from that there isn't much else that deems him appropriate for this ‘job.'

Kurt clucks his tongue, puts down his pasta dish and picks up his wine glass, settling deeper back in to the cushions, whilst reaching for his cell phone.

Kurt p

22.28

A performer from Lima, Carole, really? X

He barely has the time to fill up his glass before his phone beeps with a reply.

Carole

22.28

So you like him then? Did you read it all? C xx

They could do this all night and frankly Kurt is not in the right frame of mind for it, he needs to get to the bottom of this fiasco pronto, switch off his lamp and make himself more comfortable underneath his covers.  

Kurt p

22.29

If you're so serious about this Carole, then where are the rest of the applicants? The ones with actual degrees and qualifications and experience in this field?

Carole

22.29

I didn't specify for much experience or a certain educational level Kurt, it's not needed. Believe me, I've chosen the best here for you, I can just feel it, honey xxx

He's just about to start his wordy reply when his phone buzzes in his hand, Carole's name and number and a happy face emoticon appearing with the flashing lighting up screen. He answers, raising the phone to his face with a sigh.

“Carole, I know that you-what when did I say that-no you're not wrong but I-” It's useless, he knows it is, whatever he says Carole just keeps firing back ways in which she is undeniably right, no matter which way he looks at it or tries to kid himself.

Their second phone call of the evening ends another few moments later. The answer is not a yes, nor is it a no, it's a maybe, it's a ‘I'll think about it, we'll talk about it'. He's not backing down and giving in completely, he is Kurt Hummel and he does just not do that, but he knows that there maybe something in this, something that he shouldn't bypass straight away.

After finishing his wine, disposing his dishes, brushing his teeth and getting back into bed, Kurt tucks himself back under the covers, letting sleep slowly start to send him under with thoughts of a preppy blazer wearing boy, all false smiles and multiple useless know-how's occupying his foggy, tired mind space.

*

Of course she had booked the first-next morning flight out here. Of course she had.

And now Kurt's slumped at his breakfast island, bed ruffled hair and crumpled clothes whilst Carole's shoving a mug of steaming coffee and a plate of grilled bacon and poached eggs in front of his face.

“So you read it all then?” Carole says brightly before nibbling at the corner of her piece of buttered toast, she slides onto a stool next to him, eyes smiling and hopeful.

Kurt rolls his eyes, he's still half asleep and half annoyed that Carole hadn't told him she was coming, though he should have guessed as much. He's only annoyed really for the reason that he could have arranged her a more comfortable slight and got Sam to collect her from the airport. Sometimes his money and the benefits that come from it feels like all he has to give, but if that's all he feels he can offer, then that's all he will do.

Contrary to what others may think or believe they know about him, he is not all selfish and not all heartless. It's just hidden, its safe deep within waiting to be found and pulled back out.

Kurt grumbles a response and nods into his coffee mug. “Well yeah, there wasn't much to read though, he's not-”

“Oh it doesn't matter does it?” Carole interrupts nonchalantly. Kurt turns to look at her over the rim of his cup. “I mean what is there that you couldn't teach him, that he couldn't learn huh? And I know that you're impressed with what you've read about him, I know that look.”

Kurt raises an eye brow, tries to concentrate on schooling his features into a more disguised mask which is neither a denial nor a confirmation, he hates how he can be read so well at times, when he tries really hard not to let anyone try.

“Do you know this kid or something?” He asks, starting to feel a little lightly harassed, though probably more with himself.

Carole smiles but gives him a warning look, stirs her tea a little bit. “He's not a kid honey, he's just a year younger than you I believe, and no I do not but I think that you two would get on like a house on fire-”

Kurt's shoulders slump though he feels them tensing, he puts down his mug and tries not to let the bottom connect too loudly with the counter top.

“What does it matter, why are you doing this, why is it even important?” He tries not to raise his voice, tries not to become irate.

“Because you matter to me.” Carole says, softly but firm, matter of fact with a hint of finalising. “Because you are important, to me, to us,” and Kurt knows who the ‘us' is. “To a lot of people, actually, you must learn that. I'm not speaking as one parent here, of just one child.” She adds quietly.

Kurt opens and closes his mouth, his chest deflating with the sharp and sad sting of Carole's gaze. “Call it a mother's hunch.” She says with a slight lift of her lips and shoulders.

How can Kurt argue with that, how can he deny this wonderful caring woman anything? A woman who has lost so much, who has more than enough reasons to grieve and self loathe, yet here she is dealing with him and his so-called issues.

She reaches out a hand over the counter top between their breakfast dishes and gently curls her fingers over Kurt's.

“Please?” She asks, a half whisper, squeezing lightly, “Please just see him, just meet him. I don't know why I think you should, or why this will work, I just do, and you don't owe me anything but you certainly owe yourself this chance to try, this chance to begin to heal and forget.”

Her voice cracks a little, though her eyes are still dry and bright and Kurt can't stop himself from sliding off of his chair, tugging Carole down and pulling her into his arms. He wraps her up tightly, resting his head against hers and swaying their bodies lightly side to side. He smiles, she hugs like his dad, she's learnt his ‘bear hug' hold, and Kurt feels himself relax into it, allowing himself to just breathe and be calm and be held and be told.

“Just…trust sweetie. Trust in yourself and others, just try to trust and accept, again, just let yourself be you and be happy, and the rest will come.”

*

“This paint will never dry on time-” Carole hums a half hearted response as she fusses with the potted plant over in the corner. She looks back at Kurt over her shoulder, shaking her head at him storming around like a bear with a bad head.

“You wanted to use this place instead of your actual office-”

“Carole, I'm not having strangers come into my private work space, into my home-”

“If they're hired then they'll-” Kurt spins around, flustered, hands pinned to his waist.

“That's a big if, and oh yeah, by the way, who said anything about the living arrangements, it's entirely redicul-”

“It's appropriate Kurt, it makes sense to having them living with you-”

“No it's not, it doesn't, not a colleague, an employee.” He throws his hands up in the air, despair written all over his face.

“Yes it does, it happens all the time, like in that movie.” Carole says calmly, licking her thumb and rubbing at a mark on the arm of the nearby sofa upholstery.

Kurt rubs at is face. “God, this is all so-”

“Kurt don't be rash, calm down.” Carole chides calmly. Standing up from her crouch on the floor and brushing down her pants suit.

Kurt takes a deep breath, wills himself to calm, he can't believe he's been convinced into all of this, doesn't know how, only that here he is, here they both are, standing in the middle of a rented city office space, with pots of paint and brushes, plants and small decorative touches.

Carole glances at her watch and then gently ushers Kurt into the adjoining offices, paying him no mind, with her hands on both shoulders of his pristine sharp looking suit, guiding him forward, guiding him to more, to hopefully a better future.

“Come on honey, he'll be here soon, let's talk about how we're going to do this.”

*

“Oh he's lovely Kurt.” Carole whispers as she hurries back through the door, closing it behind her. Kurt shifts his gaze away from the window, looking out down on to the city below, where he's leaning against. He rolls his eyes and tightens his arms more firmly around his chest, his posture speaking volumes so that he doesn't have to open his mouth.

“He's just filling in that form now, you know the one with the questions and stuff.” She says quietly, as if this whole thing is some secret or the boy next door is a little baby kitten that can't handle normal speaking voices. He rolls his eyes again.

Questions and stuff, seriously. The form Carole had copied and pasted from some business source website and printed out is something that was certainly not part of Kurt's doing. Most of the questions are things that they already had an idea of anyway because of what was written on the resume and application form that the kid had sent in. But with Carole's persistence, and her constant reassurance that the questions are just a friendly way of breaking the ice and getting a ‘better idea' of who the applicant is, she trotted out into the waiting area, papers in hand to meet the poor unknowing soul.     

Carole starts teetering forward towards him, rearranging a couple of things on the makeshift desk that she had picked up from home depot. “So I'll go back out there in a few moments and bring him in, are you going to sit with us, or do you just want to-”

“No.” Kurt pushes himself off of the wall starts walking away, hands in pockets, head hanging low. Carole tries to reach for him.

“Kurt-”

“No,” he says again, more softly this time, shaking his head a little. He nods towards the door leading to the other office. “I'll just wait in there whilst you talk to him a little, let me see what he's written down, I'll just take a look at that first, I'm not promising anything-”

“You don't have to,” Carole interrupts approaching him and rubbing a hand soothingly up and down his arm. “It's ok, you don't have to honey, just hear what he has to say, alright, just try, you've pretty much admitted that you like what's on paper,” Kurt gives her a look and she gives one right back.

“This could be good, it could be great. You never know, just trust sweetheart.” She whispers.

“Hey,” Kurt spins around, finds Carole waiting by the far door, looking at him softly. “Say that you do like what you see, say that you are interested, and can find a space for this boy, it doesn't have to be forever right? Nothing has to be cemented, just until-”

“Until further notice?” Kurt supplies, with a quirk of his eyebrows and the shadow of a smirk on his lips. Until I'm no longer made of stone and capable of enduring proper relationships with people, he thinks but wouldn't dare say.

Carole's whole face softens, her eyes shining, she smiles as brightly as she can muster and nods, sometimes words aren't needed at all, sometimes thoughts can be spoken without as much as a quirk of a lip. Kurt nods back, biting his lip and before anything more can be said or debated he leaves the room through the adjoining door, leaving Carole to head out of the other door.

It's hardly going to hurt just meeting this kid right? It won't change anything. Miracles just don't happen. As fabulous as Kurt's life appears on the glossy page of a magazine and through the eye of a camera lens, good things just don't happen to him. 

*

He can hear their voices next door as he sits fidgeting in the black leather winged chair, the furniture in this place is hardly stuff that he would have chosen for his own office, but that's what you get when renting at the last minute.

He can't really make out what's being said only the tones, Carole's light and soft and excited, and a more docile and rich tone, smooth and calming like.

Why is he nervous, he shouldn't be, this is his business god damn it, his life, his domain, he gets the final say here, he can send this kid running with just a quirk of an eyebrow, he's Kurt freaking Hummel.

He takes some deep breaths and can't help but jump a little in his chair when a slip of paper comes sliding through the metal catch in the door. He's up and on his feet, heading towards it before he even realizes what he's doing, bending over and picking up the paper, unfolding and reading the words carefully.

Full name: Blaine Devon Anderson

Age: 26

Marital Status: Single

Place of Birth: Westerville, Ohio

Currently Residing in: Queens, New York

First Language: English/American

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Religion: None

Health history: No problems

Smoke/Drink: Never smoked. Drink once or twice a week

Academic/Career highlights, favourite past times, interests: Music.

That last answer he could tell had been scribbled in Caroles handwriting, which he thought was odd but couldn't spend too much time thinking about it as hes already up and out of his chair, heading towards the door. His stomach is fluttering, head feeling light on his shoulders, whirring with thoughts, misunderstood and confusing.  

He cant explain it, doesn't know why he's suddenly so eager, so randomly on edge to meet this stranger next door and see what he's all about, see why the kid is even interested. Though he can honestly say that it has nothing to do with the fact that this man, Blaine, is also gay, like he is, which Carole had conveniently neglected to tell him, its not that but theres definitely a draw there, something about Blaine and the words written about him which is intriguing Kurt immensely.

Like he said it wont hurt to meet him, to talk, it won't- it doesnt have to mean anything.

Kurt gets to the door with shaky steps, pulls down on the shiny door handle, almost a little too heavily and steps out. He's immediately greeted with a stumbling, smiling Carole in his line of vision and direct path, before she bends over to pick up her things.

He watches her carefully shuffle around and out of the way, his eyes swinging around the room before connecting with another pair of eyes, a colour and shade and pattern hes not quite sure hes seen before.

Swirls of hazel and dots of green, deep and bright, and shining are staring back at him. His face appears to be a mask of wonder, mixed with slight nerves and worry. Of course the poor guys nervous, hes got every reason to be, but god no matter how panic stricken or excited he looks, he is gorgeous, like actually gorgeous.

Oh god, oh god no. Kurt hadnt bargained for this, he hadnt expected, hadn't thought about this ever happening, about having to deal with this, with these feelings.

Kurt doesnt realize how long or how hard hes staring at the young man with an intriguing eye for fashion and an adorably over styled cast of dark hair, but when Carole swoops in, disrupting their much too intense eye contact and hugs him tightly, hes glad of the distraction.

Carole presses her face to his chest and he wraps his arms around her, unsure of what this is about but suddenly needing this embrace, needing the reassurance and love and support he knows that Carole is giving him through her hug. She takes a deep breath and Kurt can feel it, can feel that she's readying to say something, before she moves her mouth in line with his ear.

“I have to go catch my plane now honey, I think we've found what we've been looking for hmm, be good-” Oh no, oh no, oh no. She's leaving? She started this and now she's leaving him to it?

“Carole-” Kurt tries with a hint of warning, unable to move or look away, his arms still wrapped around her, frozen.

“Trust Kurt, just have faith sweetheart.”

And suddenly he just knows, he gets it, knows what she's doing and why she's doing it, why she's going. Carole knows just as much as he does though he won't allow himself to admit that it actually is going to be alright, somehow in someway. Though he doesn't know how or why he just knows that he can and that he does trust. He knows that it's ok to try, that he can, and that he can start here and now, with Blaine.

He lets her pull away from him without saying anything else and then watches as she shares a goodbye with Blaine, far too pleasantly for two people that have just met and then she's gone.

Breathe, relax, focus. You're in charge here. You've got this.

Kurt takes short careful steps forward towards the desk where Blaine is sitting and pulls the chair out as he slides down into it as elegantly as he can muster. He swallows as he stares into the strangely beautiful eyes, figuring out what to do, how to start.

“So as you probably heard just now, I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel-” Great start, keep it light, easy does it. Kurt waits for a reaction, waits for anything, but the boy just sits there, continuing to stare at him prettily like a well trained yet still somewhat unsure puppy.

“Blaine, um Blaine Anderson, it's a pleasure to meet you Kurt, thank you for this opportunity today,” Oh what a delight this boy is.

Kurt's can't help but allow his eyes to linger just a fraction on Blaine's face, those honeyed green eyes are going to be a weakness, Kurt knows it. Kurt blinks at him, his eyes falling to Blaine's lovely smooth skinned, slightly bronzed hand which is now reaching out, waiting to be met. He offers his own hand, they shake and Kurt fights to hide his smirk.

Keep going, keep talking to him, make his eyes flash like that again.

“Yes well, thank you for coming here today, I don't want to bore you with a lifetime full of details, so-”

“Oh I don't think you could bore me Kurt-” Oh is Kurt going to have fun with this one, how fascinating he is.

“Kurt Hummel Enterprizes, is um, it's my company, my business-” Kurt starts, a new found confidence pressing in with each word, helping him come up with the best last minute, mostly truthful speech he's ever made in his life. “We're-the business is, um I am taking on what feels like a boat load of work at the moment, branching out, new territory, and so a personal assistant to accompany me and help ease some of the stress and bulk is the next best step for me, for the company, I've decided.”

Blaine sits there, taking it all in, his face not really giving away any clues to what he's actually thinking, he nods back at Kurt and folds his hands over his knees. He's so lovely, so precious.

Kurt gives himself a moment, he can suddenly see Blaine, he can see the two of them, in the near future, working alongside each other. He can imagine Blaine sitting nicely at his own desk, hovering over and around Kurt as he teaches him his skills and expertise. Blaine would look all kinds of charming and no doubt sexy as hell dressed in Kurt's tailor's best form fitting suits, following Kurt closely around some fundraiser event, smiling and showing those beautiful lips and teeth off to all brave enough to stare.

Call Kurt naive even though he knows that he is anything but, but there is just something so genuine and sincere and positively certain about this man, Kurt find's him too endearing, too irresistible and he simply wants more.

Compose yourself, control. Guide him gently. 

“So is that, um is this is something you're interested in, something you're capable of, you think?” Great, well done-not.

Blaine adorably drums his fingers lightly over the edge of the desk, making a face, clearly thinking hard. Oh this guy, just what is it about him?

“Yes, absolutely.”

Kurt relaxes, he can feel his features softening, eyebrows raising curiously, he can't deny that he's delighted though he tries to hide showing it, Blaine's eagerness and sweet wilfulness is just too much.

Get a hold of yourself Kurt. He sits up in his chair, fidgets with his fingers and clears his throat. Think of something else to say.

“So a music major in Boston? Honours, top of your class, a whirlwind success?”

 “Um y-yes sir, Berklee.” Sir? My goodness. It is not proper interview etiquette to swoon. Stop it and keep talking to him.

“You hail from Westerville Ohio?” Blaine nods and smiles at him sweetly, and Kurt tries again to hide his twitching lips. “Lima for me, my family still live there,” Kurt allows another little nod from him before continuing. “Carole's my step-mother, she helps out whenever she can, whenever she wants.”

Kurt is enjoying this too much, enjoying the way Blaine is listening to him, watching him, with interest, deep and meaningful. “I like your bowtie,” he says out of nowhere, eyes dropping down to Blaine's neck. Oh for fucks sake Kurt.

Blaine pats at it proudly and Kurt would like to do the same, replace his hands with his own, but doesn't really feel like gaining a restraining order at the first interview he's ever held. “Oh um, thank you, I don't wear them now, as much as I used to-”

“You had a collection?”

“You could say that-” Oh so fashion is something that he has some experience in, how wonderful. Kurt bites his lip, loving the soft gasp that Blaine squeaks out.

Kurt knocks his knuckles against the desk in a light pattern. “So Music's your thing huh?”

“Um yes, I guess so, it has-”

“Why are you here? A man of your age. Why are you not out there making this music? Your resume is certainly impressive Mr Anderson, what brings you here, now, to me?” It's time to start getting  down to the nitty gritty, let's see how he deals.

“I guess, that uh, that I'm just looking for something new, not different entirely, just new, I um, I honestly don't know what else to say, gosh I'm so sorry, I'm normally so much more pulled together, I-I just-”

Before Kurt is able to be utterly scandalised and annoyed with himself, he laughs, giggling really, soft and quiet, at least he has the grace to raise his hand to his lips. He cuts himself off with a small throaty cough. Smooth Kurt, real smooth.

“When can you start Mr Anderson, uh, Blaine?” What? Are you serious?

“Wha-oh, uh-”

“Did you have any other questions? You're ok with the residential request right? You'll have no bills or facilities to pay for, you'll have you're own chauffeured car and your wages that you earn will be yours to do with what you wish,” Ok so that's obviously decided then. Holy hell.

“I-um, do you mind me asking about the residential requirement? Not that I mind it, I-I guess I'm just curious-”

You and me both. Kurt thinks, he thinks long and hard for as long as he can get away with, without seeming completely ridiculous and like this whole thing wasn't just a last minute hunch. What would he get out this really? What would be the benefits of having Blaine around him, living with him, so close, so personal?

Blaine suddenly doesn't seem like a stranger anymore, he seems like somebody, who Kurt has been waiting for, waiting to get to know, to have in his life, in whatever way fits. 

Sensible answers please Kurt.  

“My work takes me to a variety of places, at all hours of the day, sometimes unscheduled, I'm um, I'm requested to appear at a lot of events, more frequently now. I fund a lot of campaigns and ambassador for a lot of charities, that sort of stuff. Sometimes I need somebody with me when I go to such places, or even just have someone there in the background of my meetings and appointments, being under one roof, together, it's, it will just be…easier.”

Ok, good, that sounded believable and truthful, that is doable, that can work. Genuinely well done.

“And, don't worry, there's plenty of space, we won't be finding ourselves on top of each other… that much.” Oh Kurt you were doing so well.

However Blaine seems to have enjoyed the answer, if the way he's nodding and staring back at Kurt is anything to go by. Kurt gives him a smile, even though a sudden wave of panic floods through him, reality tumbling down all around.

What if it doesn't work? What if I can't do it What if I can't change or adapt, or share, what if I just can't be that person?

 “There will be a Six month probationary period, and in that time I can help assure that you still have a home if this position turns out to be dissatisfactory for you, any further questions?”

Kurt allows himself to breathe deeply, and watches Blaine carefully, watches as his handsomely set jaw starts quivering so slightly. Kurt can hear the deep breaths that he's dragging in, and can see his lovely lips starting to move, readying to speak, to answer.

Whatever Blaine says next is the answer Kurt's been waiting to hear, for maybe more than just today, he just didn't know it. Blaine's next words are the epitome of wonder and importance which hangs in the balance. They could make or break.

Is Blaine ready for someone like Kurt? Does he know what he could be getting himself into?

More importantly, is Kurt ready for Blaine? For what Blaine could do, for what he could bring to his life?

“I-I have a cat, could he come too?”