“Everything is beautiful at the ballet…”
—A Chorus Line

May 18, 2023

Blaine was transfixed. Kurt Hummel as Romeo was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The way he moved across the stage, leaping and bounding as if the laws of gravity had no hold over him. He'd heard Prokofiev's score numerous times and seen several other productions of this ballet, but with Kurt Hummel in the lead role, it was as if he was hearing and seeing it for the first time. He felt like he was fifteen again, watching his crush performing in a school play.

Blaine held his breath. This was always his favorite moment – the parting of the lovers after their wedding night. It was so heartbreaking and emotional. Blaine reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out his handkerchief, preparing for the inevitable tears. Kurt Hummel walked toward the window slowly, his eyes never leaving those of his Juliet, still on her bed. Suddenly, she stood, ran toward him and threw herself into his arms. He caught her easily around the waist and their lips met in one final, passionate embrace. Blaine's breath caught in his throat and for one brief second, he imagined himself in her shoes. That it was him up there, held in Kurt Hummel's strong embrace. He had a beautiful physique and Blaine wondered how it would be felt to be truly held by those arms. He wondered what his lips felt like, if they were as soft as they looked. He wondered how those hands would feel as they caressed his skin and cradled his jaw as they kissed.

Blaine jerked back to the present as the audience around him applauded. He focused back on the stage just in time to see Kurt Hummel making his exit. He clapped with the rest of the crowd and the rest of the ballet passed in a blur.

All too soon, Juliet was laying in her tomb, frozen in mock death. The utter despair and grief on Kurt's, no, Romeo's face when he saw her stabbed Blaine straight in the heart. He was pretty sure Kurt Hummel was actually crying real tears, too, if the way the light caught on them was anything to go by. God, he was… wonderful.

And then Romeo was dead, Juliet was dead and one of, if not the most emotional performance Blaine had ever been privileged enough to see what over. Blaine was on his feet with the rest of the audience as soon as the curtain rose for the bows. The roar from the crowd as Kurt stepped out for his bow was deafening. The ovation went on for so long that Blaine's hands were sore by the time the curtain dropped for the last time and the house lights came on. He didn't care though; he felt so honored to have been able to be a part of this experience that slightly sore palms were a small price to pay.

He made small talk with his neighbors as they slowly made their way out to the lobby. Once Blaine was finally free, he headed outside and hailed a cab to take him over to Daniel. Apparently, one of the perks of being a benefactor to the New York Ballet was an invitation to the exclusive opening night after party. Blaine was excited to be able to meet the performers he had so long admired, but he was nervous, too. There was an extremely high likelihood that he would meet Kurt Hummel and he just hoped he didn't make a complete ass out of himself when that happened. He hated describing what he felt about Kurt as a crush. He was almost thirty years old, for goodness sake; grown men didn't get crushes. And yet the butterflies in his stomach and sweaty palms whenever he thought about him seemed to belie that sentiment.

The cab ride was over before he wanted and Blaine made his way into the restaurant. He knew it would likely be an hour or two before any of the dancers arrived, but his nerves were still on edge as the anticipation of finally meeting Kurt Hummel was almost realized.

He grabbed a glass of champagne from the bar and went around the room, making small talk with the people he recognized from other high society functions. It was fine, if a little mind-numbing. The conversations were all rote, by this point. Yes, it's terrible what happened to Jacob. I can't believe Jenny would do that to him. Of course, Katherine's kids are the most talented. It's a shame Covington Boarding School didn't recognize that. Such a shame.

Eventually, he made his way back to the bar, grabbing what was now his third glass of champagne. He was finally starting to feel relaxed and maybe a little light-headed from the bubbles. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not under the circumstances.

Suddenly, a raucous applause broke out and Blaine turned to see the members of the New York Ballet entering the restaurant, Kurt Hummel leading the way. He smiled and waved graciously before turning to his Juliet, who curtsied politely to great applause.

Once the ovation died down, the cast and crew started making their way through the crowd. Blaine found himself talking with David Carlson, the director of the company, at one point.

"Oh, there he is," David said suddenly, waving over Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine turned and found himself face to face with Kurt. Kurt who was so absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful that Blaine was struck dumb for a moment. His blue eyes were even more stunning up close and Blaine was surprised to see that his pale skin was dotted by freckles. His hair was swept up and high off his forehead with subtle highlights shining in the glow from the warm lighting. His black suit was impeccably tailored with stylish patches of silk sewn along the shoulders.

"Blaine, I would like to introduce you to the Premier Danseur Noble of the New York Ballet, Kurt Hummel," David said with a hint of pride. "Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson, our newest benefactor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson," Kurt said, his voice high and clear as he held his hand out to Blaine.

Blaine stared at it dumbly for a moment before remembering his manners.

"Please, call me Blaine," he replied.

When their hands met, Blaine swore he felt a spark pass between them. Judging by Kurt's expression, he felt it, too.

"Excuse me a moment," David said, leaving Blaine alone with Kurt.

"I, um," Kurt continued, clearing his throat. "I was hoping to meet you tonight."

"You were?" Blaine asked.

"Yes. I wanted to be sure to thank you for your very generous donation."

"Oh, that," Blaine said, blushing. "It's nothing really."

"Five hundred thousand dollars isn't really what I would call nothing."

"Well, I'm just glad I'm able to give back some of the generosity I've received."

"I must say, you're not quite what I had pictured," Kurt smiled.

"Really? Do tell," Blaine replied.

"Usually, benefactors of your generosity are much older," Kurt explained. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It just seems rare for someone as young as you to take such an interest in the ballet."

"I must admit, it is in my blood. Though, not as much as my mother would have liked."

"Your mother?" Kurt asked. "Wait. Is your mother Maricel Anderson?"

"That would be her," Blaine said.

"Oh, my god," Kurt exclaimed. "Your mother is the whole reason I became a dancer. I saw her do Giselle when I was younger and it was just the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. There was nothing else I wanted to do after that."

"I'm sure she would be flattered to hear that," Blaine said.

"So, you don't dance then?"

"Sadly, no. The best I could ever manage was the odd two-step with my high school glee club."

"I'm sure that's not true," Kurt said, taking a sip of his champagne.

"Oh, believe me, it is," Blaine laughed. "My mom tried, but I think I must have been born with two left feet. You, though…. Gosh, what you can do up on that stage is simply breathtaking. The poise and grace with which you command the stage is not something that can be taught."

"Well, thank you," Kurt said, shyly. "That means a lot coming from you."

Their conversation turned back to the company at that point – their upcoming productions and some workshops they were holding over the summer for young dancers. Then, somehow, they found themselves on the topic of fashion and, of course, Vogue.

"It's the bible, really," Blaine said. "I only wish I had more time available to make use of their advice."

"I'd say you're doing all right for yourself," Kurt said, tilting his head appraisingly. "Tom Ford, right?" he added, gesturing to Blaine's tuxedo.

"Last season, unfortunately," Blaine admitted, squirming slightly under the scrutiny.

"I wouldn't call that too unfortunate," Kurt replied, running his fingers along Blaine's lapel. "A classic like this never really goes out of style."

Blaine's eyes widened slightly at Kurt's bold touch and obvious flirting. And it was obvious. There was no mistaking that glint in his eyes. Never in his wildest dreams had he actually thought he had a chance like this with Kurt.

"And yours," Blaine said, trying to diffuse some of the tension. "Vintage Westwood, if I'm not mistaken."
"You have a wonderful eye," Kurt said. "Though, I'm not sure 2012 can really be considered vintage."

Blaine laughed as Kurt chuckled. He wasn't sure if it was the champagne or something else that made him so bold, but all Blaine knew was that he didn't want this moment to end.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked. "Not my place, but maybe somewhere without two hundred other people around?"

"That sounds wonderful," Kurt said, with a soft smile. "I'm actually starving if you want to grab a late bite somewhere?"

"I know the perfect place," Blaine replied, reaching out to grab Kurt's hand and drag him through the restaurant.

Blaine flagged down a taxi and gave the driver an address about thirty blocks away. They settled in for the ride and discussed any and everything – music and movies and theater.

"I wish I had more time to go and see some shows," Kurt said. "I feel like I've missed so much. Even when I have a day off, I'm just so tired that even getting out of my pajamas can seem like an ordeal."

"Maybe we can see about changing that," Blaine said.

"I think I'd like that."

The cab came to a stop not long after that and Blaine paid the driver, exiting on to the sidewalk.

"I hope you like milkshakes," he said.

"Milkshakes?" Kurt asked, then laughed as he saw where Blaine had taken them. "Stand 4? Really? Aren't we a little old for this crowd?"
"I really don't care," Blaine said. "I got hooked on them my freshman year at NYU and, well, I still come about once a week. Best milkshakes in the city, if you ask me."

They were shown to a booth in the back, affording them a modicum of privacy in the bustling diner. They talked for hours, sipping on their shakes and munching on pickled vegetables, sweet potato fries and monster-sized sandwiches. Blaine had never had such a connection with another person. They had so much more in common than Blaine had ever thought. And even those things they didn't have in common or completely agree on were just things that made the other that much more interesting.

---

The next morning, Blaine awoke with a smile on his face, happy and content in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He stretched lazily, pushing back against the body wrapped around his.

"Morning," Kurt mumbled, pressing a kiss to the back of Blaine's neck.

"Morning," Blaine replied. "Breakfast?"

"Not yet," Kurt said, making room for Blaine to roll onto his back.

Blaine immediately wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders, pulling them flush together. The feel of Kurt's hard cock against his made him moan into the kiss. They rutted together, Blaine pushing up as Kurt pressed down. The heat and friction soon overwhelmed Blaine and he came with a harsh cry, grasping at Kurt's back. Kurt followed not long after, leaning in and sucking what was sure to be an impressive hickey on Blaine's neck.

Kurt finally rolled off to the side, breathing heavily. Blaine closed his eyes, basking in the afterglow and trying to ignore the cooling mess on his stomach. He was about to reach for a Kleenex when Kurt's stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet room. There was a pause before they both doubled over in laughter.

"Well," Kurt said. "I guess I could go for some breakfast now."

Blaine leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's lips before finally getting out of bed. After a perfunctory clean-up in the bathroom, Blaine headed out to the kitchen and got the coffee started while he looked through the fridge to see what options there were for breakfast. He head Kurt's bare feet slapping on the wood floor and looked up to see him dressed in his boxer briefs and Blaine's old NYU Fencing tee. It was at least two sizes too small, but that somehow only made it better. Something in his gut clenched at the sight.

"I hope you don't mind," Kurt said, gesturing to the shirt.

"Not at all," Blaine replied. "I think I like seeing you in my clothes."

"Is that so?" Kurt teased, wrapping his arms around Blaine.

"Mm hmm," Blaine said.

"So, you're saying I should go home and burn all my clothes, then?"

"Oh, definitely not," Blaine said. "That Westwood suit is much too amazing to be lost like that."

"Mm. I suppose you're right," Kurt agreed, kissing Blaine's nose before taking a step back. "Breakfast?"

"Yes. Pancakes or waffles?"

"Waffles," Kurt decided.

"As you wish."

"Thank you, farm boy," Kurt said with a wink.

Blaine laughed as he pulled the eggs and milk out of the fridge. Kurt Hummel was so much more than he had imagined. He couldn't wait to find out where they went from here.

THE END