The Good Life

Kurt Hummel led an extraordinary life in the eyes of everyone around him. Hell, in his eyes, his life was pretty damn good. He had an incredible job that paid him more than enough to live comfortably; he had good friends, and still remained close to his family after moving to New York. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness. Was it too much to ask for one date? One decent man to approach him and ask him to dinner, was that really an absurd longing? Kurt knew he didn't need to have a boyfriend in order to be happy, mind you, but it would be nice to have some sort of a love-life to speak of.

At twenty-five you would think his tally of conquered men exceeded two. And if he was being brutally honest, he had been the one conquered. Yes, he was known for falling quick and hard, but if you were going to do something, you might as well do it right. Granted, Finn would protest that falling for straight guys wasn't exactly what one would call "doing it right". Kurt shrugged it off, though. If there was one place Kurt had to find someone for him, it would be New York City.

He hoped, anyway. He had been in New York for seven years, and so far, Kurt's love-life was a bit slow. Actually, it was nonexistent. Of course, work had him rather preoccupied. In fact, it could be said that Kurt was too busy to date. He was too successful to be bothered with the trials of the dating-game; a game at which Kurt was never terribly good at, truthfully.

He was pulled from his reverie by a sharp vibration coming from his pocket. Without looking at his phone, he knew it was a message begging for his presence at work from his overly dependent boss. He adored Nathan di Angelo, really, he did—but it was a miracle he could get his way to work at all in the mornings without calling Kurt for help with directions, or asking where the ignition in his car was. The man was even more brilliant than Kurt when it came to fashion, and that was certainly something Kurt respected. Sometimes, though, he wondered how the man managed to start his own magazine at all.

His phone started ringing thirty seconds after he received the message. He rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as he answered the phone.

"Hello, Nathan." There was a lot of shuffling going on at the other end; Kurt pretended he didn't realize there was an amused smile playing at his lips.

"Kurt? Where are you? I can't find Delaney's article..." Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes once more, even though Nathan couldn't see him. Kurt knew exactly where the article was. Unfortunately, Nathan could be looking right at it and insist he had no idea where it was. "And those pictures from the new Prada line? Did Remington ever get those in?"

"Yes, he gave them to you two weeks ago. They're in your briefcase." There was silence on the other end. "The Burberry one, Nathan." More shuffling and an elated yelp.

"My saviour! I don't know what I'd do without you. I still can't find that article, though, so I need you here ASAP. Pretty please." Kurt laughed airily and assured Nathan that he was on his way. He picked up his latte and handed the young waitress a bill before heading out to hail a cab. One day, he promised himself, I will buy my own car. Taxis are definitely not for me, he noted with a curled lip as a cab pulled to a stop in front of him.

Just when his morning was beginning to look up, however, everything blew up in his face. With a splutter and a sharp gasp Kurt dropped his now-empty coffee cup onto the ground and wiped at the scalding liquid dripping down his hair, face, and onto his Dolce and Gabbana trench coat. If that wasn't enough, the man who bumped into him was now stealing his cab.

Now, you could step on his toes, you could bump into him, take away his caffeine, and steal his taxi, and Kurt could find in himself to look the other way. These things happened. But the one thing you do not do, is ruin his hair and stain his D&G coat and proceed to walk away like nothing happened.

"Excuse me." Kurt said sharply in that way that really meant "um, what the hell do you think you're doing, you taxi-stealing spawn of Satan". The man turned to him with an annoyed expression, nearly knocking Kurt in the head with the guitar strapped on his shoulder.

"Can I help you?" Kurt gawked at him. Was this guy for real?

"Yes, actually. You could buy me another latte to replace the one you just knocked out of my hands, you could give me the money it'll cost me to get this dry cleaned," he gestured wildly to his coat, "you could give me a towel to dry myself off, but I'll settle for not having my damn cab stolen." The man lifted his—gorgeous—Ray Ban sunglasses of his face and raised an eyebrow at Kurt, biting back a grin. That just upset Kurt all the more. That and the fact that this guy was insanely cute. No, Kurt. Now is not the time, he mentally scolded himself.

"My apologies, I didn't realize—"

"That a latte exploded in my face and it was your entire fault?" Kurt finished with deadpanned tone. The man just looked incredibly amused. Kurt suppressed the urge to take his guitar and hit him over the head with it.

"Well, I don't have a towel on me, and I don't have time to replace your latte, but would you mind sharing the cab? I'm running dreadfully late. I'll pay." He shot Kurt a charming but apologetic smile. With a small huff, Kurt shrugged and hopped into the cab. "You are headed to the Upper East Side, right?" The man asked as he scooted in close to Kurt, who simply nodded and hummed his affirmation. "I really am sorry about your coat. It's quite lovely." Kurt looked down to admire his jacket with a small smile, and then remembered he was supposed to be mad at this man.

"It was." Kurt stressed, hoping to make him feel guilty.

"My name is Blaine Anderson." Kurt glanced at the hand extended toward him and shook it with a small sigh of defeat.

"Kurt Hummel." Just then, his phone started going off again. Without paying attention to Blaine's inquisitive expression, he pulled it out of his pocket and rolled his eyes at the display screen. "Nathan, you can't possibly expect me to magically appear in your office five minutes after you asked me to be there."

"Oh, right. I knew that. But you are on your way, aren't you?" There was a loud crash and the sound of someone in pain. "Oh! Oh my gosh, Lisa, I'm so sorry..."

"Nathan, could you possibly try not to put your entire staff in the hospital before I get there? Could you manage that? I'm fifteen minutes away." He glanced at Blaine with a small blush as the dark-haired man allowed a crooked grin to break out on his face. God, he really was cute.

"Kurt, I'm not completely helpless—oh, come on, Lisa. It's only one toe, suck it up." Kurt sighed and grinned at the thought of the pretty redhead glaring at Nathan as he turned his back to her.

"Goodbye, Nathan. Just stay in your office until I get there so you don't cause anymore damage." He hung up and put the phone back into his pocket.

"You must be someone important." Blaine noted with a small smile.

"No. They're just really dependant." A beat of silence.

"Do you mind my asking who exactly "they" are?" Kurt raised his eyebrows at Blaine in mild shock. "Oh, I don't mean to impose. I understand if you'd rather not say."

"No, no. I'm just...not all that accustomed to being asked about...my work." About anything, really, Kurt finished silently. For a moment, Kurt thought Blaine looked a mixture of surprised and sceptical. He admonished the thought when Blaine smiled in understanding. "I'm the assistant to Nathan di Angelo, he—"

"You work at Fame?" Blaine exclaimed loudly, much to the annoyance of the cabbie. Kurt spluttered and reddened. "That magazine is like my bible. I have every issue." Blaine smiled at him, and Kurt continued to redden. "Wow, I can't believe you work with Nathan di Angelo." The cabbie pulled up in front of Kurt's stop and Kurt moved to get out, but Blaine stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. "Would you mind...if I called you sometime?" Kurt felt a slow smile spread across his face. Then he remembered that he was staring at Blaine and ducked his head as he blushed. He pulled out a pen and paper from his leather messenger bag and quickly scrawled his number down on it.

"Of course. You do owe me a latte, after all."

"Well, someone's happy." Lisa grinned at him as he approached her desk. "Did someone slip some Prozac into your morning latte?" Kurt laughed and shook his head. Lisa stared at him in awe. "Okay, what is going on? I rarely see you like this?" She stopped in her tracks and her jaw dropped. "Is there a blow-out sale at Sac's?" Kurt giggled—it was a manly giggle, he told himself—and shook his head again.

"It's nothing. I'm just having a good morning." Lisa raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows in scepticism.

"Honey, you are covered in what looks, and smells like your latte, your hair is in a complete disarray and your coat! Kurt, I can't believe you spilled something on your coat, let alone showing up to work like that, and as happy as you are! Something is definitely up. Oh my God! You had mind-blowing sex last night, didn't you?" Kurt laughed and blushed.

"No! Lisa, nothing's up." Lisa scrutinized him through narrowed eyes before humming thoughtfully and turning back to her work.

"Fine. Keep your secrets. I'll find out eventually." She promised with a quick smile.

"Kurt! Oh, thank God, you're here. I'm missing the files that need to be sent in for evaluation. Also, I can't find my sister's phone number...apparently she's been engaged for three months or something...?" Nathan looked flustered as ever as he rattled off his problems of the morning.

"Nathan, stop, breathe. We sent those files out last week. Your sister's number is in your phone. Remember? I put it in for you after she called so you wouldn't lose it. Your plane ticket is booked; you're set to leave in three weeks for the wedding." Nathan paused and thought over what Kurt had said before letting out a breath of relief.

"I would lose my head, if it weren't for you. How did I even live before you got here?" Kurt shrugged. "Oh! We have that Wicked show to go to tonight, right? Don't you know the female lead—?" Just then, Kurt's phone started ringing. The display screen read a number he didn't recognize. He frowned at his phone before answering.

"Hello?" A deep chuckle echoed from the other end.

"God, I'm probably going to sound like a madman, but I wanted to see if you'd given me a false number." He could tell Blaine felt embarrassed for calling him so soon. "Though...I suppose, as long as I've got you here, would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? I know it's rushed and we just met, but I do owe you—" Kurt tried not to be charmed by Blaine, but it was difficult and Kurt was failing miserably.

"I'm actually busy tonight. I'm covering the Broadway production of Wicked—there's a new female lead and...you know, duty calls." Blaine laughed awkwardly.

"Right, of course. You're busy. I'll let you go..." Blaine continued talking but Kurt's attention was called to Nathan and Lisa who were jumping around and pointing at him accusingly. Nathan glared at him.

"What are you doing? Is that a man on the phone? Is he asking you out?" Nathan demanded in a whisper. Kurt covered the mouthpiece of his phone.

"He is not asking me out on a date; he wants to have dinner to make up for this morning." Lisa and Nathan shared a wide-eyed look.

"This morning? What happened this morning?" Lisa asked eagerly.

"What is the matter with you? He's asking you out! Say yes!" Nathan ordered.

"Kurt?" Inquired Blaine's voice in his ear.

"Say yes!" Both Nathan and Lisa urged him. He glared at them.

"I can't. He wants to go tonight." Nathan and Lisa started freaking out silently again and Kurt continued ignoring them. "Sorry, Blaine." Kurt risked another glance at Nathan who was writing frantically on a notepad.

"Maybe some other time? I'll understand if you're too busy, I know work can get hectic..." Once again, Kurt's attention was called to Nathan who was holding up the notepad that read ask him to come with us. Kurt blushed as he thought of having Blaine—who was probably gay, but one could never really be too sure—meet his boss.

"Wow, you know, this was incredibly stupid. You probably don't want to spend time with the guy who ruined your morning and your jacket. I'm sorry I called." Blaine laughed bitterly.

"Wait!" Kurt yelled, much to the astonishment of everyone in the area, as well as himself. "No, I'm sorry. I'm glad you called. Would you like to accompany me to Wicked?" Kurt held his breath in wait for the answer. "Free tickets." He blurted, hoping to bribe Blaine into saying yes—even if he didn't want to see Kurt, he would want to see the production, wouldn't he?

"I'd love to, Kurt." Kurt grinned and tried not to giggle like a teenage girl.

"Fantastic. The car will pick you up at eight." Nathan and Lisa were doing a ridiculous happy dance, right there in the middle of the office; ridiculous, because Lisa could barely walk straight with her injured toe and Nathan was incredibly clumsy. People were peering over their cubicles to gawk at the spectacle. It took everything Kurt had not to laugh at them as Blaine gave him his address. "I'll see you later."

"Until tonight, Kurt Hummel." The line went dead and Kurt was left to swoon with his colleagues.