Summary: Kurt Hummel had never meant for any of this to happen. Married by twenty-six, father by twenty-seven and divorced by twenty-eight. But when he meets Broadway’s newest darling Blaine Anderson, it forces him to reevaluate whether loving his husband is enough when he’s fallen in love with someone else.
Lynne’s review: Although I wasn’t a big fan of reading so much about Kurt and another love interest, I was pleased with the Klaine friendship and eventual Klaine (finally!) romantic relationship. It was very honest and sweet.
Summary : sometimes, the very thing that you’ve been looking for is just one blast of wind away.
Title from Hair, “Let the Sunshine in”
A massive thank you to Elise, the artist, for letting me come up with my ideas, and to Sophie, my precious Beta who kept me on my toes and made sure this wasn't too much of a mess
I really wouldn't have been able to come up with this story without the inspiration that struck me when I saw that drawing, especially since I was listening to that song (granted, the French version, but the principle remains ^^)
We starve, look at one another, short of breath
Walking proudly in our winter coats
Wearing smells from laboratories
Facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy
Listening for the new told lies
With supreme visions of lonely tunes
Somewhere, inside something there is a rush of
Greatness, who knows what stands in front of
Our lives, I fashion my future on films in space
Silence tells me secretly
Everything
Everything
(...)
Let the sunshine, let the sunshine in
The sunshine in
***
Kurt loves his apartment on the third floor of a 1930s building on Hart Street.
He loves that the beams are apparent, he loves the warmth given off by the wood and the materials he picked for his couch and carpets.
Sure, he never thought that he would live in Brooklyn, but Bushwick - it suits him. It’s more his speed, it allows him not to feel too homesick.
The park and the coffee place, both around opposite corners from the building, don’t hurt either.
The trees, even naked in the midst of winter, make him think of home in the best nostalgic way, and the coffee place - it’s home away from home, with dark woods and steel counters, soft classical music and plush seats should he decide to stay just for a little while instead of taking his coffee to go.
He doesn’t get to meet his neighbors too often - so far, no problem with noise disturbances, Kurt knows he’s lucky - except in the elevator.
For months now, he rides up with one of his neighbors who looks absolutely adorable, and Kurt would love to get to know him better, if only to talk about his fashion sense.
Working at Vogue.com full time has given Kurt a fairly accurate sense of masculine fashion trends, but this guy … Kurt has nicknamed him Fourth Level for obvious reasons, and he looks like he doesn’t really care about the actual trends. Like he’s comfortable enough in his own skin to know what fits him and what doesn’t, what suits him in the different eras and he uses them to bring the best out of his person.
Kurt can only admire it, and it has given him ideas about 1940s revivals that are going to shake things up in the next editorial meeting.
But his plans to start a conversation with Fourth Level guy are not as successful, since the man always has headphones on his ears.
Kurt can’t hear what he’s listening to, but he likes to imagine that it’s classical and jazz music.
It would fit the mysterious man that apparently lives above Kurt and occupies most of his free thoughts.
---
One more act.
He can do it.
Blaine just needs to write the epic romantic moment in his musical and he’ll be done.
And then he’ll be able to bring it to the producers who have given him a month to finish the rough draft.
And then he’ll quit his job as a Hallmark creator.
“Creator.”
Poppycock, he tells himself with an eyeroll.
Just because he’s good at writing puns, it doesn’t make him an artist. His music is making Blaine an artist, and that’s it.
That job is just … a means to an end. But in the meantime, he has to focus on that epic song he wants to write. Blaine can feel it on his fingertips - he even has the score already, he just needs the lyrics.
Shaking his head at himself, Blaine plays on the “repeat” button of his Ipod, just to surround himself with the melody.
Several people - Cooper, Wes, Tina - have told him that he should do the opposite. Get himself out of his head to let the song come to him because it will, eventually, but Blaine can’t.
He’s sufficiently distracted by Aquamarine.
Well, that’s how he calls his neighbor from the third floor who, more often than not, rides the elevator with him at the end of the day. The nickname comes from the strange color of the man’s eyes, not exactly blue, not exactly green, not even exactly a blend of the two colors - it’s a human version of the gem and it fits Blaine’s neighbor, at least in Blaine’s mind.
He tries to keep his eyes to himself, to focus on the music, but it’s like the man has a power of attraction - a human Sun, making Blaine gravitate around him.
He’s tall, elegant, graceful even in stillness, and he seems to be in his own little world, comfortable in his own skin in a way that Blaine can only affect outside of his home.
As they reach the third floor, Aquamarine looks up and gives Blaine a little smile, so precious that Blaine wants to take it in his hands and --
The doors slide back to take him to his floor.
This is it - tonight, Blaine is going to sit at his desk, the little secretaire he found in a flea market for nothing and that he loves so much he keeps fixing it, he will open the window to let the city’s noise bring him his song, write the damn song, play a full run of the whole musical and then he’ll order some pizza, and maybe some ice cream if he’s particularly proud of himself.
And then, tomorrow, he’ll look up when Aquamarine gets in the elevator and he’ll say ‘hello’.
---
Kurt has decided to settle with his book in his armchair - that he has designed himself from an old carseat found in a junkyard, thank you very much - for the evening.
It’s a quiet May evening here in Brooklyn, and if he just slouches a little in the chair and tilts his head just a little bit this way, he can almost see the Manhattan skyline.
With the breeze softly blowing outside, it’s kind of perfect, and Kurt doesn’t want to waste any of it.
He doesn’t even take the time to change, plopping himself in front of his opened window with his book on his lap - time to see how Edmure Tully’s wedding is going to happen. Kurt refuses to watch the show until he has read the books, and he still has … a couple or so of pages to read before he’ll start watching it.
Everybody and his brother tells him to just watch it, but Kurt has principles - for one, never watch the movie or the TV show if the source of it is a book before reading said book. That policy has lead him to some great books and to some disappointment, but at least, he knows what to expect when he puts on the television.
Sounds are coming from outside, and even as Kurt lets himself be absorbed by the schemes that are the heartbeat of Westeros, he listens to them.
The sound of the wind, of the cars …
Of a piano above his head.
That pulls him out of his reading : is it Fourth Level guy? If the man is a musician, Kurt is doomed.
Who is he kidding, he is doomed anyway, the man is exactly his type, but if he’s the one playing that hypnotizing melody, Kurt is not going to be able to keep his distance any longer.
The book on his lap suddenly flutters, and Kurt looks outside : the breeze has turned into a slightly stronger wind, and he’s lucky enough that he had his straw wrapper stuck in the binding of his page, or he would have lost it.
Kurt is about to go back to Westeros - Edwyn not wanting to dance any more ? Not good - when his vision is suddenly blocked.
By a piece of paper that just flew from outside and covered his face.
And a truly chilling scream follows.
---
Blaine was doing so well.
He had been working on his scene for most of the afternoon, and it was … it really was coming together. The words, the notes, everything was harmonizing, literally, for once, and he was about to take a small break from his music to fill a couple of demands from his “real” job - for now - when it happened.
When he moves his hand from the pile of papers in front of him and the wind decided to play him a trick.
A small part of his brain takes a note of the picture - you never know when a sentence is going to be useful - but the vast majority of his mind is focused on catching the fluttering sheets before --
“Nooooooooooo!” Blaine screams as the music sheets and some of the cards mock-ups fly out of the window - again, literally - and he’s left hanging on by the rail of his little iron balcony, his hand lifted in the air in a vain attempt to catch some of them.
He knows, he’s not stupid, that those pages are lost - damn him and his old-fashion ways! Those would have never happened if he had been working on a computer like everybody else he knows. Naturally, he has several versions of the first act songs, even some “doodles” of the music he wants to try on the second act.
But the last part? Nooo, he’s Blaine Devon fucking Anderson, who doesn’t do anything like the rest, who likes the penmanship of writing and scratching and erasing and writing again before making a “hard” copy --
“God fucking dammit to Hell!” he yells for good measure, stomping his feet on the balcony. What is he going to do? Half of his pages flew towards Manhattan, the other half is …
Oh, some of them are fluttering towards the park, maybe he can get some of them back!
As he puts his shoes back on properly - it wouldn’t do him any good if he fell on his ass because of untied shoelaces, now, would it? - Blaine tries to repeat the notes he had written, just in case, when a knock on the door interrupts his train of thoughts.
---
Kurt goes to his balcony, and the blood curling scream obviously comes from the floor above him, more sheets of paper flying from that window and a cursed yell definitely gets Kurt’s attention as he absentmindedly picks whatever sheet flies close enough to him.
Fourth level is not as proper as he appears, it would seem, if the colorful curses are any indication.
Weirdly enough, it only serves to make Kurt even more attracted to the man than he already was. Like if they were to date, and if Kurt was to find the proper “buttons”, he could manage to make the dapper, old-fashioned but charming man unravelled into a sexy beast growling curses interlaced with his name and -
Kurt shakes his head like a dog exiting a pool, and he snatches more sheets drifting in the breeze.
That’s his perfect opportunity : he’s going to go upstairs, give Fourth Level the sheets of paper he managed to save - he can even offer his help to find the others, it’s like in a movie ! - and they’ll talk and they’ll get to know each other and Kurt will find out what makes the other man blush and what makes him laugh, if he’s a good cook or if he’s a take-out aficionado like himself.
If he looks down in that enticing way with his friends and acquaintances - and more - too.
Kurt practically runs the flight of stairs that separates them, and he tries to smooth down the crumpled pieces of paper - that he cares more about them than his own appearance is a testimony to how much he wants to make his neighbour happy - as he knocks on the door, and some words catch his eyes.
Don’t love me
In spite of my flaws
Or because of them
Just -- love me
Don’t love me
For who you think I am
Or who you dream I was
Just -- love me
Don’t love me
For what I can give
Or what you think you deserve
Just --
Kurt’s eyes are still on the words, awakening something deep and raw in his gut, when the door slides opened.
---
Blaine is somehow conscious that he’s only wearing one shoe, and he knows that he must look like an absolute, moronic idiot, but Aquamarine is standing in his doorway, holding a handful of sheets that can only be his, because Blaine would recognize his loopy, messy handwriting with only one eye opened.
“Hi,” he breathes out, and he really tries not to stare, but his neighbour smiles at him and holds his paper-filled hand and it’s really not helping with the whole non-staring thing.
“Hello,” Aquamarine replies, shaking his hand just a little bit and Blaine reaches to take it from him.
“Thank you so much,” Blaine says, his lips finally stretching into a real smile, miles away from the “Mowgli” grimace usually gracing his features when he’s being shy - like he is now. “That’s very kind of you, Mister …”.
“Oh, please, call me Kurt,” Aquamarine replies, and Blaine wants to write a mini sonnet celebrating the name, “and it’s only natural. Your sheets of paper quite literally flew to me,” he adds with a little chuckle, and Blaine is momentarily speechless.
Kurt’s laugh sounds like a celesta, and Blaine just realizes that the instrument’s delicacy is what missed to his final piece - a little sound that no one will notice but that will bring a vulnerability to the great finale, a vulnerability that is the governing theme of the whole musical.
Maybe it was Fate that Blaine’s work flew away from him, to bring Kurt into his life.
Blaine feels his cheeks heating up at the treacherous voice that whispers in his ear that Fate wants Kurt to be in his life in more ways than just this one.
He returns to the present situation, hopping on the spot to put his second shoe on. “I was actually going to try and hunt for more of my … work,” he tells Kurt, and the smile that lightens up the other man’s face is almost enough to make Blaine forget about any plan to go out of the apartment.
“Would you mind my help?” Kurt asks, tilting his head to the side, and the light coming from Blaine’s window makes his eyes look like a blue-green tourmaline for a split-second.
“Beg your pardon?” Blaine says, giving his feet one last kick to settle it inside the shoe, and when he looks up, he can see a faint, pink hue on Kurt’s face.
“I am -- offering you my help in your quest,” Kurt repeats, a playful smile on his lips that makes Blaine all warm and fuzzy, like when he makes himself a hot chocolate with melted marshmallow.
“I gladly and thankfully take you on your offer,” he replies, carefully putting a weight on top of the sheets Kurt brought back on his way out.
---
Kurt’s fantasy of a romantic comedy happening in real life - in his life - is slowly taking shape, and though he manages to actually help Blaine in his search for lost notes, he finds himself mesmerized by the shorter man.
Sure, he’s more than mesmerized by the way Blaine’s mustard pants stretch over his buttocks when he bends over to pick up half a piece of paper, but Kurt is fascinated by the look that crosses Blaine’s face whenever they do find what is his work.
He has seen that kind of look before, on new parents’ faces or in the mirror the day his first column got published. It’s pride, with a healthy dose of absolute terror for the future.
“Tell me more about this work of yours,” Kurt says while they cross the street towards the park - some papers flew over the trees, he’s sure of it - and Blaine twists his mouth.
“The work we’re chasing after or the work that pays my rent?” he asks in reply, and Kurt can feel his eyebrows lifting just a little bit.
“There is a difference?”
Blaine lets out a short, humorless laugh. “In my case, quite a bit unfortunately - but it’s temporary, just to give time for this,” he says, patting the handful of sheets in his hand, “to become my only job.”
“Ah, a pragmatic man,” Kurt comments with a smile. “I’ve been there.”
Now it’s Blaine’s turn to raise his eyebrows - and what a unique pair of eyebrows, Kurt would love to study them in a closer fashion - in question.
Kurt stands taller as they pass by a Scholar tree - a sheet seems to be stuck in the lower branches - before answering. “When I made the decision to work … where I work now, full time,” he starts explaining, leaving Vogue’s name out of the picture for the moment, “it wasn’t my first choice for a career. It had always been in my life, but not in the way my dream job was, you know?”
“I do know,” Blaine replies quietly, his eyes lingering on Kurt for a moment too long before looking ahead.
They walk by an alley of Callery Pear trees, and Kurt notices that they are definitely taking their time. Their pace is one of a quiet walk, more fitting for a … for a date than for a hunt. He’s not complaining - far from it, he expects to hear someone yells “cut” at any given time, so perfect is this moment - but he wonders what are Blaine’s motives.
---
It’s no use.
Except for a couple of sheets here and there, Blaine knows that they have found what could be saved of his runaway work.
Even knowing that, Blaine doesn’t really want to stop searching.
Let’s call it searching.
It’s better than “creepily wooing your neighbor”, isn’t it? It certainly has a better ring to it.
Blaine isn’t sure what motivates Kurt to help him and to be so nice about everything to him, but he can’t find it himself to stay perplexed about it.
Not when Kurt is climbing a tree to pick up a sheet of paper that decided to return to its original state, and certainly not when that situation gives Blaine a perfect view of Kurt’s long legs and strong back, not to mention a magnificently perky ass, the muscles practically pulling at the seams of his clothes.
He’s feeling a lot less perplexed about that particular visual, that’s for sure.
“It’s getting dark,” he says, applauding his ‘Captain Oblivious’ talents, and delicately folds what little pieces of paper they found. “We should - we should go back.”
Don’t leave me now, don’t leave now
The Supertramp song rings in his head - in his brother’s voice, which is suspicious in itself, and Blaine straightens his shoulders to keep his mental Cooper at bay.
“Maybe we should,” Kurt simply replies, putting his hands in his pants pockets as he follows Blaine’s turn.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” Blaine adds and a twitch pulls at Kurt’s lips, making him smirk for a second.
“I know,” he replies with a wink, “that’s what makes me so nice.”
Blaine lets out a surprised giggle at that, and before he knows it, he’s uncharacteristically singing the lyrics of the familiar song, with Kurt’s help.
I’ll teach you the proper ploys
When you talk to boys
Little ways to flirt and flounce, oh!
Blaine has to look away at that line, feeling himself heating up like a black car left outside in the peak of summer, but a quick glance at Kurt lets him see, even through the darkness slowly falling around them like a cloak, that he’s not the only one turning into a tomato.
He feels less awkward about the next thing that pops up in his mind and comes out of his mouth.
“How can I repay you for your kindness, though?” he asks, looking away from Kurt and silently berating himself for still managing to make a fool out of himself when Kurt replies.
“Let’shavedinner.”
Blaine slowly turns his head, unsure of what he thinks he heard.
---
What is his brain doing?
Kurt truly enjoyed the couple of hours he spend in Blaine’s company, sure he wants to know him better - in the not so distant future - but to invite him for dinner?
Just like that?
It’s not Kurt’s modus operandi : no, no, Kurt? Kurt takes his time to make sure that he’s not going to get, a) rejected, b) heartbroken, or c) used like a warm dildo.
It has happened in the past, and now, Kurt is careful.
Well - he usually is; but there is something in Blaine’s demeanor, in the way he looks down and blushes when Kurt catches him looking, in the way he gets so passionate when he talks about his building project, and in the way Blaine’s words are still wrapped around Kurt’s brain and heart in a way he can’t fully explain himself.
All of these elements might explain why Kurt doesn’t want for the evening to end at his door, but to invite Blaine for dinner?
He has even less explanation for that.
“Did you just-” Blaine starts asking, and Kurt prays the Seven and all the older gods to open the ground under his feet. “Did you ask me out for dinner?”
Well, now he’d better go ahead with that disaster so he can go back to Edmure’s wedding in peace - he’ll take the Caramel Cone Explosion out of the freezer.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt starts, rubbing the back of his neck and letting his fingers linger there in comfort, “I didn’t mean to be so forward, I don’t know what possessed-”
“I’d love to.”
“-Me. Really?” Kurt stops talking to look at Blaine, and the little smile on his face, the way the streetlamp makes his eyes sparkle as they reach the building make Kurt smile wide.
“Really,” Blaine replies, “and I insist on inviting you.”
---
Blaine knows that his options are limited - the awesome tortilla place closed last month, and their neighborhood is surrounded with Chinese restaurants - but he doesn’t want to pass up such an opportunity.
After all, he had decided that he would talk to Kurt after tonight, hadn’t he? This is more than perfect.
Truth be told, they only have two viable options, a Mexican restaurant or one particular Chinese that Blaine really, truly loves - in any case, Blaine knows where he wants the evening to end.
Not in his bed, he kicks the perverted part of his brain - Kurt is a gentleman whose pants should be wooed off of his body -, but the little pastry shop on Knickerbocker.
Between their biscottis and their cheesecakes, they’re bound to find the perfect dessert to end that evening on a good note.
Hopefully, it will convince Kurt to reiterate the experiment.
“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt protests, “you really - it’s not necessary.”
“It’s the least I can do to thank you for giving up on your evening to help the cursing stranger who lives above you,” Blaine replies with a crooked smile, only to find Kurt blinking at him.
“Not so much of a stranger now,” Kurt says gently, his voice breathy and soft like a caress. “And after you see me eating a cemita, I won’t have anything to say about your manners, trust me!”
Blaine lets out a very unelegant snort at that, prompting him to cover his mouth with both hands in embarrassment. A moment of stillness passes between them, abruptly shortened by Kurt laughing happily, an hand on Blaine’s forearm in support.
Even through the layer of his jacket, Kurt’s touch feel like a spark of energy and he joins him in his laughter, even letting out another little snort and giggle as they catch their breath.
“So, El Sol de Cholula?” he offers, tilting his head in the restaurant’s direction.
“Lead the way, good sir,” Kurt replies as he doesn’t remove his hand from Blaine’s arm.
“I know a shortcut,” Blaine says, turning right when Kurt was already going left.
---
“You were not joking,” Blaine simply comments as their waiter walks away with their order.
Namely, with Kurt’s order of a “Cemita Milanesa de Pollo”, with added “queso de puerco” because there is never enough cheese, of course, and Blaine’s chicharrones en salsa roja.
Kurt arranges the napkin on his lap before looking at Blaine with the most serious look he can muster. “I never joke when food is involved,” he deadpans and Blaine nods, playing with the shakers.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says softly, and Kurt has to grip the edge of his seat to keep from jumping at the other man over the table to kiss him silly.
Before he lets himself be tempted, the waiter comes back with their drinks, the Mexican soda bottles clinking on the table.
“Espero que tu guste,” the waiter tells Blaine with a dimpled smile, before welcoming new customers.
Blaine and Kurt take their respective drinks - Blaine wanted to try Tamarind, but Kurt stuck to his regular, Mexican Cola Jarritos - and locking their gaze, clinks the bottles in a silent toast.
To a new friendship and more, Kurt thinks with a smile as he takes the first sip, and he keeps his eyes on Blaine as his neighbor follows his lead.
And instantly wishes he hadn’t decided to look at Blaine drinking while drinking himself.
Because Blaine, you see, wraps his lips around the opening like he is on an adult private channel - but he doesn’t stop there, and Kurt is going to have to face a situation much too soon.
Blaine also closes his eyes, his long eyelashes casting a shadow over the apple of his cheeks as he does so. He also tilts his head backward, baring his neck - and all the tendon and Adam’s apple and soft veins - for Kurt to wonder how easily the man bruises.
Kurt valiantly tries not to choke on his own mouthful, swallowing it down along with a whimper as Blaine makes a satisfied noise.
“Ah, this does feel good,” he says and Kurt knows that he should say something, acknowledge Blaine’s comment, but there is a drop of soda lingering on Blaine’s lower lip and it’s driving him crazy --
Blaine’s tongue just sneaks out of his mouth to get it, gone as swiftly as it came out and did someone touch the thermostat in this place?
“Kurt, are you okay?” Blaine asks with a frown. “You seem to be a bit warm. Did you catch a cold?”
“Oh, no no, it’s nothing,” Kurt replies with a shaky smile. “I will just wash my hands before our meals arrive, be right back!” he adds in a hurry, rushing towards the little door in the back before Blaine can reply.
---
Blaine looks at Kurt running in the bathroom with a frown on his face, but he does take advantage of his sudden and temporary loneliness to have a proper look at what they saved.
With the knowledge that there is a pile of paper already at his apartment, also thanks to Kurt, he tries to rearrange the sheets in the right order, and he can see that even if a good portion is missing, it’s not the part that was problematic to begin with. The “fillers” are missing, the purely musical parts and he still has that melody locked inside his brain, and as for the missing lines of lyrics, they’re among the ones he came up with in the subway - in his notebook somewhere in one of his bags.
His work is not as lost as he feared when the sheets of paper flew away from him, and if he works on it tonight once they do get back to their apartments, he will be right on schedule.
But. And it’s not a small “but”.
But Blaine isn’t sure that he’ll be able to let Kurt go.
The waiter brings the two loaded plates to their table, and Blaine absentmindedly makes some room to let him put them down, lost in his thoughts.
He knows that he might get ahead of himself, and awfully presumptuous about it too, but Blaine knows how to read people - it’s one of his talent as an artist - and Kurt’s eyes have been following his every move in a flattering manner the whole afternoon.
Unless he’s reading the situation so wrong it makes him look like a devout reading the Bible backwards, Kurt is at least appreciative of his looks and Blaine can work with that in the long run.
It’s not that he’s doesn’t like one-night stands, but as his friends often joke, Blaine is a serial lover in the most literal meaning of the word. He loves being in love, it helps him be more relaxed when clothes become entirely optional.
And Kurt? Something in the taller man makes Blaine want, a) for clothes to become outlawed and b) in a permanent fashion.
“What are you thinking about so deeply?” Kurt asks as he sits back, cheeks still pinkish, but not as alarmingly as it was a moment ago.
Blaine is startled by his return, but he still smiles at him. “About Fate, I guess,” he replies with a tilt of his head, folding the organized pieces of paper to put them back in his pocket.
“Are you going to tell me more about that mysterious work of yours?” Kurt asks, nodding toward the pocket while pouring hot salsa on his opened cemita and Blaine looks down with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Maybe some day,” he says in a low voice before looking up, only to see Kurt nodding along, his cheeks bulging with the sizeable bit he took from the sandwich.
Yes, some day, Blaine will tell Kurt all about his work, about his hopes and dreams, and even more about what he wants to put in that mouth.
---
“For now,” Blaine continues, and Kurt tries to chew as elegantly as he can - then again, he should have taken a much smaller bite from his cemita to begin with - “I still need to work on it to make it whole again before tomorrow.”
“Looks like you have a sleepless night ahead of you,” he comments once his mouth is empty and Blaine shrugs.
“That’s the life of a writer I suppose,” he says haughtily before letting out a short giggle.
“Don’t laugh - you are an artist, Blaine,” Kurt says before he can stop himself.
It’s not the first time this evening that words come out of his mouth beyond his control, and it’s all Blaine’s fault.
If it means keeping the shorter man around, Kurt can let go of his control, and happily so.
Blaine is looking at him, his fork held between his plate and his mouth, and his eyes are completely focused on Kurt, like he’s trying to crack a puzzle, or like Kurt is the most fascinating thing Blaine has ever seen.
Kurt can’t hold such a gaze for too long, and he returns his attention to his sandwich - it’s a damn good sandwich too, and loves getting the kick of the hot pepper sauce just as he swallows every bite.
While Kurt eats with his hands, as one does with such a sandwich, Blaine is the epitome of composure, knife and fork in hands, and Kurt would bet a good portion of his closet that Blaine is the kind of person that eats salad with cutlery. It’s adorable, and he finds himself wanting to find out more.
About Blaine’s eating habit, about his coffee order, whether he snores or not, whether he’s a morning or an evening person.
If he prefers to top or if he prefers to bottom.
If he is a screamer or if he keeps all of his pleasure to himself.
Kurt can feel the back of his neck heating up as his mind supplies an endless thread of questions in the same thematic, and though he tries not to objectify Blaine, he can’t resist the appeal of wanting more.
For one, he’s not used to wanting so much so fast from someone he barely knows.
For second, Blaine is really attractive, on an objective level.
For third, the more he talks, the more he smiles, and the more Kurt wants to stay right where he is, and more than the first two reasons, this one is a great motivation to try to woo his neighbor.
“If you need to get back to work, we should get you home,” Kurt says as Blaine asks for the check, only realizing what he said and babbling to cover it up. “I mean, we live in the same building so your home is my home -- I mean, we should …”, he tries to cover up but Blaine simply smiles and covers Kurt’s hand with his own (wow that’s warm and comforting).
“I get it,” he replies, “but for it to be the dinner I envisioned,” that gives Kurt pause, because this sounds like Blaine wants tonight to be what Kurt wants it to be too, “we need one more stop.”
---
To see Kurt so flustered gives Blaine the strength, nay, the courage to ask for one moment more before they go their separate ways in their building.
The smile that stretches Kurt’s lips as they reach Circo’s, the way his eyes seem to sparkle in the street lamp’s lights comforts Blaine in his choice.
The way Kurt seems to focus all of his attention on the cheesecake in the showcase, though, makes Blaine wonder what it would feel like to be the cheesecake.
The implications of this particular train of thoughts make him blush, but he still manages to order his bag of biscotti without a single hesitation and for that he mentally pats himself on the back.
As they start slowly walking back towards their building, Kurt holding the cheesecake to his chest like it’s the Crown’s jewels and Blaine relaxing in the warm weather, the two men look at each other at odd moments, blushing when they catch the other watching.
“Listen,” Blaine says as they turn the corner of their street, “I - stop me if I’m being too forward, but even if I do have to go and work on that play for tonight, I want to --”
“Yes.”
Blaine blinks and smiles at Kurt who closed his eyes.
“Yes?” he repeats with an irrepressible laugh ringing in his voice.
Kurt opens his eyes and sighs. “Please tell me you were about to ask me on another date,” he says, looking up to the sky as if looking for an escape there.
“Another?” Blaine repeats, feeling like a parrot even though he’s smiling at the other man.
Kurt snaps his head back to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Like tonight wasn’t a date?” he asks as a challenge.
“I’m not denying it,” replies with a soft smile. “Just making sure we are on the same page.”
Kurt’s eyes turn soft at that, and he holds the box containing the cheesecake in his right hand, his left hand reaching for Blaine’s. “100%”.
Blaine feels like his chest is going to explode in a thousand of confetti pieces, and also like his face is going to split in two with the width of his smile.
“For now,” he says, lifting Kurt’s hand to his lips, “I must go and work. But tomorrow,” he adds hastily, while Kurt is still flustered by his gesture, “tomorrow will be epic.”
Kurt clears his throat, looking at his hand like he has never seen it before. “We shall see,” he says, voice just a little bit strangled. “Good luck for your night of work,” he adds with a smile, leaning forward to kiss Blaine’s cheeks on his way up the stairs.
Blaine stays on the sidewalk for a solitary minute before following Kurt inside the building, a spring in his steps.
---
Hours later, Kurt is deeply immersed in his book, his slaughtered cheesecake on his lap, when something knocks against his half-closed window.
In the dim light he has in the apartment, he can’t really see what made that noise, so he gets up and walks towards the window.
Only to laugh so hard he starts tearing up when he sees that there is a basket hanging from a thread, swinging in the wind.
Kurt wipes the tears from his eyes, still chuckling, and gives the thread a little pull. His heart skips a beat when Blaine’s face appears on the upper balcony, all smile and mischief as he holds a fishing rod.
“What are you doing? You’re supposed to work!” Kurt calls, unhooking the basket.
“Look inside the basket,” Blaine replies with a smile, crossing his arms over the rail and leaning his head on the cushion of his arms.
Kurt frowns at him but follows through with his instructions. Inside the basket, there is a note and a little USB key.
“Go ahead,” Blaine calls once Kurt holds the two items. “Good night Kurt,” he adds before giving a dorky little wave and getting back into his apartment.
Kurt stands outside for a couple of minutes, eyes traveling between the basket and the balcony above his head, before shaking his head and returning inside his own apartment.
Fate has a strange way of bringing people together, and in his case, it brought him a very strange man, but Blaine is one conundrum Kurt will love to unravel.
He plugs the USB key into his computer on his desk, finding several locked files, but one audio file entitled “that mysterious work of mine”.
As he opens it and lets it buffer, Kurt looks at the names of the other files : “V1”, “V2”, “variation 1.1”, “act 1.1”, “act 1.1 - v.2”, followed by several other files - audio and text - and as the music starts playing, Kurt realizes that this key is no ordinary key. It’s all of Blaine’s musical arrangements, his whole work all saved on one key.
Blaine literally gave Kurt the key to his world, his inner world, and Kurt feels like his heart is growing twice his size inside his ribcage.
In the music coming out of his speakers, he recognizes the melody he heard earlier this afternoon - it has only been an afternoon and an evening, how is that possible? - but with softer arrangements. There is a new sound in the background, behind the piano and what he recognizes as synthesized strings, a chipper sound, like a bird’s whistle - soft and yet strong - and it gives the piece a quiet fragility, like someone is fearlessly hanging over a precipice.
Kurt barely reminds himself of safely removing the flash drive from the port before he rushes out of his apartment and for the second time today, climbs the stairs leading to the fourth floor.
---
Blaine is … satisfied doesn’t cover it.
He feels accomplished.
Yes, accomplish covers it neatly, he thinks as he ties the ribbon around his old-fashioned briefcase. He has done what he had set his mind to, and he has also managed to tell more about himself to Kurt than he thought possible - and without any word.
At least he hopes that it’s how Kurt understood it, otherwise they are going to have a problem.
Oh God, what if Kurt thinks Blaine is too much of a weirdo to bother with?
He checked and checked again to make sure that the file opened in every player conceivable, but what if it didn’t work?
What if Blaine, by trying to be whimsical, made himself look ridiculous?
Oh God, he can feel the biscotti trying to make an escape.
Blaine lowers his head, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly to calm himself.
Even if Kurt finds him ridiculous, they can still be friends, can’t they?
Just as Blaine lets out a deep sigh and starts walking towards his bathroom, a knock on the door startles him and for a second he has a feeling of déjà vu. Before remembering that it actually happened earlier today, and the outcome of that first knock sends butterflies in his tummy.
A second knock on the door shakes him from his daydream and Blaine rushes to the door.
As he opens it, he barely has the time to acknowledge Kurt’s presence before finding himself silenced in the best way possible.
His arms are still flailing by his side, but his neck is warmed by Kurt’s arms wrapped around it, and his mouth --
His mouth is covered by Kurt’s, in a slow but impatient kiss. Kurt tilts his head to slot their lips more perfectly and Blaine finally decides to participate, closing his arms around Kurt’s waist, one hand splayed over the small of Kurt’s back.
Kurt gasps as Blaine opens his mouth to suck Kurt’s lower lip between his, and the sensation of taking in Kurt’s breath, the rushing of blood through his body as he can feel Kurt smile against his lips, it inspires Blaine a thousand songs and melodies.
And if he’s being totally honest, a couple of truly cheesy but lovable cards for his current employers.
But for now, he will focus on deepening the kiss he’s sharing with his personal sunshine if you don’t mind.
---
Three days later, when Blaine finds Kurt’s collection of Valentine’s Day Hallmarks cards as he was looking for lube, Kurt has to get over his dizziness to understand why his boyfriend chose to sit on the floor to laugh like a lunatic.
