A Place to Stay

A/N: Welcome to my latest story! The story is complete at nine chapters (unless I get inspired to do an epilogue) and is a little over 28,000 words long, in case you're wondering what you're getting yourself into. I plan to post twice a week – I lack the patience to post any slower than that. I have no beta for this, so there is no one to blame but me for any errors or areas that are lacking. So, as Elphaba once said, it's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap…

Chapter One

The day was not going well for Kurt Hummel.

He had received an unbelievable break – he was being allowed press access to New York's Fashion Week. He wasn't sure exactly how Isabelle had arranged it. After all, he was only a blogger for while working as her assistant. The other press members were full-fledged fashion writers for some of the most prestigious media outlets in the world. However, his fairy godmother had, once again, waved her magic wand and made this amazing dream come true.

Well, almost true. He'd have to get there first.

Naturally, today was the day his train broke down. Two hours he sat in that subway car cursing his luck. He'd been running late all day, and had missed the train he was supposed to be on, putting him on this over-crowded and delayed sardine can.

He finally exited the subway in Midtown and fought his way through the throngs of residents and tourists that always seemed to clog the area. His journey was hampered further by the suitcase he was wheeling behind him and the garment bag slung over his shoulder. "Just a couple more blocks to the hotel," he thought, trying to give himself a little encouragement.

Soon enough, he found himself in front of the elegant Dalton Hotel, a smallish boutique hotel tucked away about two blocks from Times Square. Despite his frayed nerves, he managed a smile and a "Thank you" for the doorman who greeted him as he held the door open for Kurt to pass. The lobby was moderately sized but tastefully appointed, with just the right amount of marble and dark wood to give a classic air without being stuffy or old-fashioned. With a quick glance around, he located the front desk and plodded his way across the lobby as if he were reaching the finish line of a marathon. Finally releasing the handle of his suitcase and carefully draping the garment bag over the top, he greeted the desk clerk, gave his name, and stated that he was checking in. The young woman tapped a few keys on her computer, furrowing her brow slightly. She tapped a few more times and said, without looking up, "I'm sorry, sir, we do not seem to have any availability for you tonight."

Kurt paused as he stared at her. She looked up in time to hear his response, "You what, now?"

"I'm afraid we are all booked, and we do not have a room for you," she replied, her level tone clearly the result of training. She was about to continue when Kurt cut her off quickly.

"No, no, no. I have a reservation. I made it three months ago. I have my confirmation e-mail right here," he began, whipping his cell phone out of his pocket, pulling up the message and turning the screen toward the clerk.

"Yes, sir, I realize that. It's just that we're oversold for this week. It's a common practice in the hotel industry, but with it being Fashion Week, we have a higher than usual arrival rate," the clerk did not fail to notice the increased intensity of Kurt's death glare when she mentioned Fashion Week. Before he could voice his anger, however, she hurried on. "However, we are fully prepared to offer you comparable lodgings at another location. We're not a chain, but we have arrangements with a few other local hotels for just such an occasion."

"Swell," was all Kurt was able to get out through clenched teeth. He just needed to keep his calm and find out the name of the other hotel, walk over there, check in, and put this disaster of a day behind him. "Which hotel?" he asked.

"Let's see," she said, tapping away again, "Ah, yes. We actually have two locations that can accommodate you, both conveniently near the airport," she rushed through the last part of that sentence, knowing that her guest probably would not like it very much. She was right.

"The airport?" Kurt asked, his voice rising slightly, both in volume and pitch. "Listen," he paused as his eyes flicked to the clerk's nametag, "…Tina," he said as though her name were another four-letter word. "I need to be in Midtown. If I wanted a hotel out of the city, I would have stayed at my apartment in Brooklyn. I don't have time to run back and forth to a hotel in Queens every day."

"Um, no, sir," Tina hesitantly replied. "When I said by the airport, I meant, um, Newark?" It wasn't supposed to be a question, but she had grown quite intimidated by the man who was clearly close to losing it - and lose it, he did. Everyone in the lobby stopped and looked at the desk when they heard a loud, high pitched voice screech, "New Jersey?!"

xoxoxo

Blaine Anderson was taking a long-overdue break. It had been a crazy day at the hotel, per usual. They were booked solid due to Fashion Week, along with the other million things going on in the city. He'd just come back from his favorite coffee shop around the corner and was returning to work for a few more hours before calling it a night.

"Good evening, Mr. Anderson," the doorman greeted him, opening the door and tipping his hat.

"Hey there, Brad," Blaine replied, stopping to give the man a quick pat on the shoulder. "And it's Blaine, remember. Mr. Anderson is my dad," he said with a wink.

"Yes, of course, sir," Brad said with a grin, earning a chuckle from his boss as he passed through the entryway.

Blaine loved this hotel. He had worked or stayed at all of the family's properties across the country, and even a few overseas, but none compared to this one. It had the old-world charm of the classic hotel it once was, seamlessly mixed with the modern elegance and convenience introduced by the Anderson family when they'd acquired and refurbished it a decade ago. Blaine had just been a teenager then, dreaming of living in New York, albeit in very different circumstances, while growing up and attending school in an upscale suburb in Ohio. Now, here he was, ensconced in the family business, and somehow living in the city anyway. As he gazed around the lobby, his reverie was broken by what appeared to be a very unhappy guest at the front desk. The clerk was looking sheepishly at the man and saying something. As Blaine approached, he nearly dropped his medium drip as the guest cried out, "New Jersey!?"

Poor Tina looked like she was about to cry. Blaine couldn't have that, and he also couldn't have a guest this distraught. Clearly, an intervention was needed. He crossed the lobby quickly and stopped at the desk next to the man, close enough to make his presence known, but not so close as to startle him.

"Excuse me," he interrupted, his voice friendly and soft. Step one was to inject some calm into the situation. He looked at Tina first, saying, "can I help with something here?" He turned his head toward the man at the desk as he finished his sentence, and the last word almost caught in his throat. The man before him was drop-dead gorgeous. He was a couple of inches taller than Blaine, and appeared even taller due to his high-swept hair. Flawless, fair skin was offset by startling blue eyes – eyes that were currently filled with anger, frustration, and seemed to be slightly glassy, as if the man were near to tears.

All of this observation occurred within a second or two, as Blaine quickly regained his composure. He smiled at Kurt and introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Blaine Anderson. And you are?"

Unfortunately, his calm, friendly demeanor had not reached Kurt yet. "Well, Blaine Anderson," he said, his voice dripping with frustration and disdain, "I am a person with a reservation at this hotel who should be in a room right now watching crappy hotel cable, but Tina over here," he punctuated her name with a quick jerk of his thumb, "has informed me that apparently, it is your practice to overbook your hotel and then send poor saps like me over the Hudson River to Jersey instead. So, if you want to help with something, how about finding me the room that I booked or at least finding me something in fricking Midtown instead of sending me out of the state?" Kurt finished and gave Blaine the death glare he had been giving to Tina.

"I am so sorry about this, Mister…" Blaine trailed off, waiting for Kurt to supply his name. "Kurt Hummel," Kurt provided tersely.

"Yes, Mr. Hummel. I am sure we can find a solution for you." Blaine remained upbeat and friendly, both his natural charm and his training serving him well. Turning to the clerk, he continued, "Tina, what are our options with our sister hotels?"

Tina, who was grateful for the intervention, informed Blaine that all of the hotels in the city were booked, and that the only options they had were in outlying areas.

"Look," Kurt said, quieter than before. He remained livid, but the strain of the day was wearing him out, and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold it together. "I am working Fashion Week. I need to be in town near all of the venues, as I'll be attending different events throughout the day and writing about them in between. That's why I rented a room in the first place. I wasn't going to have time to commute from my apartment in Bushwick. Newark isn't going to work for me. So if you people can't help me, I'm just going to have to go find a room someplace else nearby and then go on every website known to man and give this place the worst review since the Bates Motel."

He grabbed his luggage and turned toward the front doors when he felt a firm hand on his arm as Blaine said, "Wait." Kurt turned and really saw Blaine for the first time. He'd been so caught up in his ranting before that he hadn't paid attention to how stunning he was. He had dark, wavy hair which was styled back with gel like an old-school movie star. His thick, triangular brows were perched above sparkling eyes, the color of which Kurt couldn't entirely be sure, but if he had to pick a word, golden would suffice. He was wearing an impeccably-tailored suit, and Kurt's knowledge of fashion told him that it cost more than he brought home in a month.

Blaine removed his hand, almost looking embarrassed at the contact. "I'm afraid you won't find anything in this area right now," he said apologetically. "Everything is booked solid. If you did find a vacancy, the rate will likely be three times the average due to the scarcity of rooms and booking at the last minute."

Kurt stared at Blaine for a long moment, the words sinking in as he then looked to Tina and back at Blaine again. He didn't know how this all could have gone so wrong. It was the most important week of his life, and his whole plan was ruined. He needed to be in town, and there was no way he could afford to pay triple what he was paying here. He'd been saving for six months (yes, he had optimistically started saving three months before he even got the assignment) to afford this place. He leaned his elbows on the hotel desk, closing his eyes and lowering his head into his hands. "Oh, god," he muttered, too quiet for Tina to hear, but just loud enough that Blaine caught it, "what am I going to do?"

xoxoxo

Blaine knew he had to come up with something for Kurt. He couldn't just send him off to Jersey or back to Bushwick (though he couldn't decide which was worse, honestly). As he pondered what to do, a noise from behind him notified him that another guest was waiting to talk to someone at the desk. He had to take Kurt somewhere else while he worked on a solution.

"Mr. Hummel?" he prompted quietly, angling his head down to catch Kurt's eye. "I am sure we can come up with an answer for you, but I am afraid we need to allow Tina to assist someone else in the meantime. Would you follow me to my office?"

Kurt took a deep breath. At this point, he was willing to ask if he could sleep in Blaine's office, or the lobby, or the janitor's closet, for that matter, so he didn't need much convincing to follow as Blaine stepped behind the desk and passed through a door behind Tina. They went through a small hallway and entered a room on the right, Blaine shutting the door behind them. He offered Kurt a seat, which he took, and coffee, which he declined. Blaine set his own coffee down on the desk (he'd just remembered to grab it from the front desk before walking Kurt back) and sat in the other visitor chair next to Kurt. He was stalling. For some reason, he didn't want to see Kurt walk out of the hotel, never to be seen again. An idea had come to him in the lobby, but he'd been trying to dismiss it as crazy, which it definitely was. No other options were presenting themselves, however.

"I'm sorry for yelling out there," Kurt's soft voice almost startled Blaine as it was so unexpected. "I really didn't mean to make a scene. I've just had the most supremely awful day and this is a huge deal for me but I don't know how I'm going to pull this off if I have to commute and…"

He stopped as Blaine leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. "It's okay. Everyone gets stressed, especially in this town, right?" he said with a smile. He held Kurt's gaze for a moment, mesmerized by the eyes that had been bright blue a moment ago with anger but which were more of a soft grey now.

Kurt, for his part, was confused. He should still be livid. This was the most important week of his life and this stupid hotel issue was ruining everything. He had done everything right, and was getting the short end of the stick, big time. However, with Blaine leaning toward him, soft hazel eyes looking into his, and a hand ever so lightly touching his arm, he found himself feeling calm – almost peaceful, even. He shook himself out of it quickly, though, and Blaine seemed to do the same, removing his hand and sitting back upright again.

"So," Blaine said, clearing his throat, embarrassed once again at finding himself touching a complete stranger, "time to problem-solve." Kurt quirked an eyebrow at the choice of phrase. "The problem is that you need a place to stay, and there aren't any rooms available."

"Thank you for captioning my misery," Kurt deadpanned. "I might have forgotten if you hadn't reminded me." Apparently, the inner peace had been short-lived. He was back to being stressed, and a stressed Kurt was a snarky Kurt.

"Right, sorry," Blaine apologized. He was better at his job than this. He'd been running this hotel almost single-handedly for a year. He knew how to handle guest service issues. He just needed to pull it together and come up with a good solution.

However, Kurt apparently wasn't going to give Blaine that kind of time. Rising abruptly from his chair, he began to gather his things. "Look, I really don't have time for this. If you can't give me a room here, I am just going to go back home and see what else I can come up with. Maybe I can sleep on a cot at the office a couple of nights or something. In any event, sitting here with you isn't going to change the fact that whatever the reason, the room I booked isn't available, and I've got to make other arrangements. It sucks, and I'm really not happy with your hotel, but," he hesitated, finally taking a breath, "you've been very kind, and I appreciate your attempt to help." He held out his hand to Blaine, remembering his manners. "It was nice to meet you," he said as Blaine reached out to accept the gesture.

Blaine couldn't believe what came out of his mouth next. Kurt released his hand, grabbed his suitcase and turned toward the door just in time to hear Blaine say, "You can stay here."

Confused, Kurt turned back around to find that Blaine had risen from his chair. "What do you mean, I can stay here? The place is booked, remember?"

"You can stay here," Blaine repeated, then clarified the statement by adding, "…with me."

xoxoxo

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Blaine found himself holding his breath, waiting for Kurt's response and also completely panicking at the words which had just come out of his mouth. There was no way he would invite a stranger to stay with him, and yet, that was what he did.

Kurt, who prided himself on always having something to say, was speechless. As he stared at Blaine for a few seconds – seconds that felt like hours while an inordinately loud desk clock ticked away – fought to overcome his stunned silence. Unfortunately, the most coherent thing he could manage to say was, "Wait, what?"

Blaine ignored the very reasonable voice in his head that told him this was his opportunity to rescind his offer. That voice's counterpart urged him on, instead. "You can stay with me, in my apartment."

Kurt's eyes widened as Blaine realized how his offer sounded. "No, no," he rushed on. "I don't mean that how it sounded. I mean, yes, I meant that you can stay with me, and technically it is my apartment, but it's here at The Dalton, just upstairs." He could feel himself blushing as he rambled on, and thought he noticed a fleeting smirk on Kurt's face.

"You live in a hotel?" Kurt asked, mentally slapping himself and thinking, that's your first question?

"Um, yeah," Blaine replied, his hand subconsciously going to the back of his neck. Work Blaine was gone and regular old Blaine Anderson had taken over. "On the top floor."

Again, silence fell between them. Blaine took a breath and a step towards Kurt. "There's plenty of room, and I'm really not there all that much. I'd give you your own keycard, and you could come and go as needed. No funny business, I promise."

Regarding him with a mixture of suspicion and interest, Kurt asked, "Do you make it a habit to ask all of your stranded guests to stay with you? That doesn't seem very smart. I could be a serial killer, you know."

"You don't look like a serial killer," Blaine said with mock seriousness.

Kurt leaned in slightly, narrowing his eyes, and whispered, "We never do."

That earned a hearty laugh from Blaine, making his hazel eyes sparkle in a way that Kurt did not miss. After another slightly awkward moment, he asked, "So, what do you say?"

Kurt considered his options. Logic told him to graciously decline and just make the crazy commute work with his schedule. There was no way he should be taking up a stranger's offer to basically live with him for a week. It was ridiculous. It was ludicrous. There was no way he was going to do it. Naturally, then, when he opened his mouth, a single word slipped out. "Okay."

A/N: One down, eight to go. I hope you enjoyed it, and will come back for the rest. Please drop me a note to let me know your thoughts! I would be remiss if I did not give thanks to HKVoyage and GleefulDarrenCrissFan for listening to me whine incessantly about my writer's block and for encouraging me to move forward. Thank you both from the bottom of my heart!