Author Notes: This is based on the film of the same name. Written as part of the gleeatthemovies Big Bang on Livejournal [gleeatthemovies . livejournal . com]. (You should read the other fics posted over there, too!) You can find the art and mix which go with this fic at the masterpost on livejournal, glitterandpaws . livejournal . com / 14137 . html (without the pesky spaces). It would be lovely if you could go and have a look at them, because they're amazing and I love them so much.

Now, some thanks are in order. Huge thanks to my lovely betas: first to C from betabitches [betabitches . tumblr . com] for being my first port of call for grammar perfection and giving me lovely feedback; second, to electrictoes [electrictoes . livejournal . com] for picking at my writing when I wanted it to be picked at (and when I didn't, but needed it to be) - I appreciate it more than you know. *huggles* A glorious giving of thanks to my artist, rena_librarian [rena-librarian . livejournal . com], who made me the amazing movie poster you can see over at the masterlist. It's beautiful and perfect and makes me gush with happiness. And lastly (but not least-ly, no siree), a huge hug of thanks to silverdragon77 for being my mixer and all things cheerleader. Without you, my love, I think it might have taken me far too long to realise that Andie and Blaine share a surname. You know that I need you. Hugs and kisses to you all!

Have fun, my darlings, and thank you for stopping by to read!


DAY 1

The apartment building is old and city-grimed. Some of the grouting is crumbling between the bricks and there are small strings of green leaves woven up the walls and into the cracks. The paint on the frames and sills of the windows is peeling in some cases, covered up by cheerful window boxes in others.

One particular window, with a bright array of flowers perched outside it, is really no different from the rest. Its only distinct feature is the promise of what is inside, past the glass which frosts up in the winter. It is clear now, occasionally mugging in the stick of summer. One glance in gives a glimpse of a desk scattered with pages, a mug, trinkets, memories and words.

Creativity, then, is what dwells inside. You can imagine from that sliver the whole apartment stretching out around it: there is a bed, as of yet unmade, and a kitchen with a good colour scheme and a notebook on the table. There are family photographs and pictures of the city; cushions which are more comfortable than stylish on the couch and a small crack in the paintwork near the ceiling which really should be fixed.

The New York air is pressing at the windows. Quarter to eleven in the morning.

~o~

Blaine started a new folder: Articles Holly Will Never Let Me Publish. With a sigh, he saved How to Make an Egalitarian Society People Can Believe In into it.

He loved his job. He loved his colleagues, his friends, and his crazy boss. He loved the ride he took on the subway every morning and afternoon and the way it made him feel like a real New Yorker to sway with all the others. He just wanted more, sometimes. There were greater things to explore in the world of journalism than shoes and handbags and how to Feng Shui your apartment.

Blaine took a last look at his article's final line and closed it, putting his feet up on his desk. He tapped the pad of his index finger against his lips as he stared at the photo on his desk: his first day in New York; his first visit to Times Square as a native. He'd stumbled in backwards, not realising where he was in all the excitement. He'd turned around and stopped still when he had noticed the instantly identifiable towering buildings, flashing screens and crush of people. He had lifted his camera, clutched in his hand like a tourist's, and snapped the photograph. It wasn't any greater than every other photograph of Times Square, but he could feel the ghost of that thrill wash over him every time he glanced at it.

The buzzing of his phone pulled him out of his haze and he grabbed it.

"Where are you?" Mercedes said without preamble.

Blaine slumped further back in his chair in groaned. "Can't I just work from home today?"

"Hell no. We have a staff meeting in…" A time-checking pause. "Forty-five and your ass better be here. Also, I think Rachel might be having another breakdown."

"Oh, god, what happened?"

"What always happens?"

Blaine grunted and pulled himself out of his seat. He padded over to his wardrobe, dropping his sweatpants and pulling his t-shirt awkwardly over his head while still holding the phone to his ear. There was an almost painful dance between his elbow and a sleeve, but he managed it. "Do you think Holly will actually let me do this article? And do you want me to get croissants as well as coffee?"

"No and yes. And maybe a Danish. If Rachel's still in bed, she'll need all the pastries she can have to stop her wallowing."

"I hate this job sometimes." Blaine pulled a pair of slacks on with one hand, having to steady himself on the wardrobe as he nearly toppled over. "I've worked hard on this article and I think people would be interested in it, so why can't they use it?"

"Put me on speaker."

"What?" Blaine fumbled with the zip. "Why?"

"I can hear you struggling from here and I don't want you getting a head injury before you buy my coffee."

Blaine laughed and put her on speaker phone, laying his phone on the desk and putting on the rest of his clothes with greater ease.

"Look, Blaine, you went into this job knowing what they wanted you to write. You're Blair Anderson, How To "Girl" and you have to deal with it. I'm one hundred percent behind you looking for a job that lets you write what you want, but you gotta push through it for now."

Blaine huffed, doing up a final button. "Oh, stop being so wise and get Rachel out of her cocoon, will you?"

"Love you, too, Blaine." A click and she was gone.

~o~

Rachel stumbled when she climbed out of the taxi. Mercedes paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk while Rachel fell into Blaine's chest, wrapping her arms around him with a sigh that was dangerously close to a sob.

"Why does this always happen to me?"

"You would not believe the effort it took to make her get dressed. She kept telling me there was no point." Mercedes rolled her eyes at Blaine and patted Rachel's shoulder.

"Come on, Rachel," Blaine coaxed, guiding her towards their building's doors and pressing coffee and a Danish into her hand. "We have a staff meeting, remember? You can pull yourself together for that and we'll talk afterwards."

"It was going so well!" she wailed, tripping a little over her own feet and biting viciously into the pastry as she walked. "It was like my life was one beautiful romantic movie. He made me feel so much."

"I know, Rach, I know," he said, stroking her hair.

She took a large gulp of coffee, and then winced as it burned her mouth and throat. "I couldn't stop myself from telling him. It was too perfect."

"What did you do?" Mercedes asked, looking at her with a resigned expression.

"I told him I loved him, of course. Oh, don't look at me like that, it's how I felt. It was so beautiful!"

"After how long?" Blaine asked.

"Three days? Or… maybe two?" They had crossed the lobby and stepped into an elevator. "I just… But then everything started going wrong. He wasn't around and I kept calling him but he was never picking up."

"You kept calling him?" Mercedes said, looking at her with something nearing on despair. "Seriously, girl?"

"He never picked up! He can't have known it was me, anyway. I have my number blocked."

Mercedes and Blaine shared a look, but the elevator doors opened on their floor at that moment, so they chose not to say anything.

"I know some men may find my exciting personality demanding at times, but I really thought this one…" She stopped walking. "I thought this one would work out."

They crowded around her, wrapping her up in a three-way hug. "You'll find someone, Rachel," Blaine murmured. "There's someone out there for everyone. Don't forget that."

Rachel sighed and leaned her head on Mercedes' shoulder.

"Come on," Mercedes said, pulling back and standing Rachel up straight. "Pull yourself together. It's time to see Miss Holliday."

~o~

Holly ushered them all into her writers' circle, passing out glow bracelets because she'd bought them in bulk in a moment of inebriation and wasn't sure what else to do with them. She sat in her large chair at the head of the room with crossed legs and went through each columnist, checking up on their progress.

"Mercedes, how are you getting on?"

"I'm working on that article about the new power plate sneakers that vibrate while you work out and help you lose weight faster," Mercedes explained, looking around the room. The women and two men all looked up at her appreciatively. "They're kind of amazing," she said with a bright smile. "Like Fitflops, but better." There was a mumble of positivity from the group of writers.

"Vibrating plates in your shoes? Awesome," Holly said. "I should get one of those. Though I think they'd ever leave my bedroom, if you get what I mean."

The room winced. Blaine snorted and tried to pass it off as a cough. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mercedes holding back a grin. Holly was fun, if completely inappropriate and insane.

"Blaine, my favourite girl-with-a-schlong, what are you working on?"

"Um." Blaine coughed again, still slightly overcome with mirth. "Something a bit different, if that's okay."

"Depends what kind of different."

"Nothing outrageous."

"Damn. I was really looking forward to hearing what hobbit people get up to in their little hill-houses. They're like burrows. Full of dark corridors for doing dark deeds."

Blaine stared at her, completely at a loss for what to say.

"God," Holly chastised, seemingly to herself, "that was mean. And seriously inappropriate." She flicked back to him. "What is it, then?"

"It's about LGBT rights—"

"No."

"—and male-female equality, Holly, please—"

"No, Blaine." She sighed. "I hate doing this to you. I'm sorry, but you know that's not what Hauteis about. We're fashion trends, diets, sex and gossip. You know I'm a big supporter of equal rights, but I can't do something that's going to lose us advertisers." She shrugged. "There's nothing I can do. You'll have to think of something else, okay?"

Blaine stared at the floor, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks. He nodded.

"Alright. Rachel."

Rachel glanced up with red-rimmed eyes. "Holly, I… I'm sorry, I haven't…"

"Rachel got dumped," Mercedes supplied for her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Holly tilted her head, looking genuinely concerned. "Although, you may be going about it the wrong way." She shrugged. "You're kind of… frigid."

"I-I—"

"Blaine. Here's your new title. You can tell the world why acting the way Rachel does won't get you a guy."

Rachel turned to him with wide eyes.

"Holly, I can't… I really can't do that. It's Rachel's personal business."

"You don't have an article for this issue, Blaine, so unless you want me to cut your column I suggest you do this."

Rachel was shaking her head frantically at him and Blaine could see the tears pooling in her eyes again, but Holly was watching him with a resigned expression.

"Okay, I'll do it." Rachel tried to shout out in protest, but Mercedes gripped her arm and shook her head. "No, look, I'll… I'll sort of do it." He really had no idea where he was going with this; he was just stumbling through words as they appeared in his mind. "Rachel's got all sorts of things of going for her: she's attractive, she's funny, she's kind-hearted. She… can be a little too ambitious sometimes, but that can be an attractive quality. To some people." Rachel was staring at him, clearly not having a clue where he was about to take this. Someone was in the boat with him, then. "She does have a-a problem, though: guys never seem to stick with her. It's going great for a little while and then, all of sudden, she's leaving messages on his answering machine and not getting a reply." He looked up at Holly and was relieved that she seemed to be interested in what he was struggling to articulate.

"I get women writing in about that all time," said Sophie, resident agony aunt. "They're completely mystified, poor things."

"There," Blaine said, gesturing to her. "You see? A lot of our readers have this problem. So, I just have to tell them how to… not. Have this problem."

"Okay," Holly said. "I'm liking it so far. How are you going to do it?"

"I…"

"There are things Rachel does," Mercedes said, and Blaine almost reached out to hug her, "which drive guys away. Blaine just has to gather these and, well, try them out."

"Like an experiment," Holly said, nodding. "Yes. Blaine, you need to get yourself a guy and then scare him off using only Rachel-like methods of seduction."

"Okay. Yeah, okay, I can do that."

"You'll have to act like a girl for ten days and not just write like one, but–"

"Ten days? Why ten?"

"A guy will stick out five days or a week if he thinks he might get sex and we go to press in eleven." She slapped her hands on her knees. "Now all of you get out. I have a twelve o'clock appointment with an Aussiebum representative. I enjoy a bit of exhibitionism as much as the next girl, but all of you being here might intimidate him a little."

~o~

"I have a problem, boys." Shelby settled back in her chair. "I have a decision to make."

"Do you really need us both here for this?"

"Sebastian, darling, when have I ever made you do anything unnecessarily?"

Kurt snorted and looked away from her, at their old classroom. Being back here was strange. All the memories were coming back. He could see the table where he'd slaved over his first design, crying and screaming at it through the night because it wasn't good enough. He could remember finally being happy with it, then stumbling home and crying himself to sleep when Shelby told him she wouldn't let her trash can wear it.

Sebastian shifted next to him, sliding his foot up Kurt's leg under the desk.

Yes, this room held a lotof memories.

"Why are we here, Shelby?" He shot Sebastian a glare and got a smirk in return.

She sat up, propping her elbows on the table and interlocking her fingers: the sign that she meant business. Kurt straightened and crossed his legs the other way, moving away from Sebastian.

"The Kamikat Fashion Show. I'm on the committee. They're offering one slot for an up and coming designer and the decision came down to the two of you." She eyed each of them for a number of seconds. "The committee can't make up their minds, so the glorious task is now mine. You can see why I need your help."

There was silence. Kurt held his breath.

"Well, the decision's easy, Shelby." Sebastian stayed stretched back in his seat as he spoke, his effortless languor making Kurt want to rip his eyes out and fuck him all at once. "You pick the best designer."

"And I suppose you think that's you," Kurt cut in.

"It's not a question of thought. It's just fact. Your designs are as straight-laced as a Catholic schoolgirl without the kinky knee socks, Hummel." He turned to Shelby. "They have no passion in them. From the number of tears he shed in fashion school, you think his designs would come out with a little emotion, but I've been sadly disappointed. I don't think I've seen clothes with lesslove in them. They're like statues; the makings of a porcelain doll."

"It's sad my designs seem to be too erudite for your diminutive mind, Sebastian, but at least I have some sense of coherency. You're all over the place to the extent that I don't know how you'd presume to pull together a collection with any degree of sense to it. But you'll take any type, won't you?" His lips pulled back over his teeth as he smiled glassily at Sebastian. "Picking one design and sticking to it really isn't your style."

Sebastian hissed through his teeth, but his eyes were sparkling – he loved this. "Low blow, Kurt, even for you."

Shelby clapped her hands. The two men held each other's gaze for a moment longer. Kurt could hear his blood beating in his ears. Sebastian laughed and broke the contact, turning his attention to their former teacher.

"Fun as this is, it's getting us nowhere. You have to prove each other wrong to have a hope of winning this slot."

Sebastian opened his mouth, but Kurt beat him to it. "Love is inherent in all my designs, Shelby. You know that. I understand love, falling in love, and I can evoke those emotions in people."

"You can make people fall in love?"

"Yes."

"With your clothes, Kurt, or with you?" Sebastian asked.

Kurt faltered. "Ei-either one."

Shelby smiled, and if Kurt didn't know her so well he would have said it was gleeful. "How daring of you, Kurt."

Kurt shrugged. "No. I'm just confident."

"Well, there's my decider, then."

"What?" Sebastian and Kurt said in unison.

"Kurt, if you can bring a man who is desperately in love with you to the preview gala for the sponsor, you can have the slot."

"But…" Kurt's fingers gripped each other tightly. "The gala's ten days from now. You want me to make someone fall in love with me that quickly?"

"You have ten minutes to make people fall in love with your clothes. I'm being positively generous." She stood up and started to put on her coat. "I want both of you to have a completed preview outfit ready for the gala. I don't need to tell you it has to be perfect."

She had almost reached the door before either of them had the presence of mind to stop her. "Shelby." Kurt span around in his chair and she paused, clutching the door handle. "What does Sebastian have to do?"

Shelby laughed. "Hope you lose." She pulled the door open and turned to them before she stepped out. "And try not to… dabble in too many different styles."

~o~

"You two could have defended me in there, you know." Rachel pouted at them as she stirred sugar into her coffee.

"Rachel, we saved your skinny Jewish ass from having to write about your love life. I think you should be thanking us."

"And I did try to defend you," Blaine said. "I only repeated what you've been saying to me for ages. And I went on about how great you are so much I'm surprised Holly didn't make some joke about my joining your fast for Yom Kippur turning me straight just so I had something I could eat."

When neither of them replied, he looked up and found them staring at him in horror.

"Oh my god…"

"Blaine," Rachel said. Then she snorted and threw a piece of biscotti at him. "That's disgusting. You should not be allowed to spend time with that woman." She looked at Mercedes, who broke into laughter with her.

"I heard that," Holly called, her head gliding past the top of Blaine's cubicle, where they were all sitting. "And Blaine." She paused. "I'm impressed. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Um… thank you."

She left and there was silence for a moment. Then they all started laughing uncontrollably.

"Blaine, I am never—" she snorted—"I am never inviting you over for Yom Kippur again."

~o~

The door of the classroom had barely closed before Sebastian was on him, running his fingers through his hair, pulling his head back.

"You said some awfully cruel things about me just then, Kurt," Sebastian said, mouth brushing against Kurt's neck. Kurt worked his hardest not to gasp at the catch of Sebastian's bottom lip against the shell of his ear.

"You can take it."

Sebastian chuckled and straddled one of Kurt's legs, shoving his thigh between Kurt's, pressing it right against his crotch. The small moan ripped from Kurt's throat was not voluntary – Sebastian was so hot against him and he was breathing against his ear and fuck, how was he already hard?

"Shelby's deal is fun," Sebastian murmured, tracing his fingers around the outline of Kurt's hard cock, "but I want to propose a better one. We'll still keep to hers, of course, but this is just a little extra-curricular."

Kurt tried to say something, but only a small whine fell from his lips.

"You want to fuck me, Kurt." Kurt squirmed, trying to protest, but Sebastian shushed him. "I know you do. I see what it does to you, me and all those other boys. You hate it. So here's my deal: you get this guy to fall in love with you, and you get to fuck me."

Kurt moaned and his hips rutted against Sebastian's thigh. He tilted his head and caught Sebastian's eyes. His expression was cool but his pupils were blown black. Kurt wanted – no, needed this. He needed to bend Sebastian over Shelby's desk and fuck him so hard he'd be feeling Kurt's cock for a week.

"And if I lose?" His voice was raw, barely a croak.

Sebastian rocked his thigh roughly and Kurt's back was arching. "Now that's the fun bit," Sebastian said. "You lose and you stop designing for a year."

Kurt's brain snapped back into focus. "What?"

"You heard me, Kurt," Sebastian chuckled, licking up the column of Kurt's throat. "You don't release any new designs for twelve." He nipped Kurt's skin. "Whole." Again. "Months." He bit under Kurt's ear, hard enough that it wasn't really pleasurable.

"No. No, that's not a fair deal."

"How so? A year is a long time. That's a big loss, sure. But this slot is the kind that slingshots a career, Kurt. Come on, you know that. I think a catapult to fame is bargain enough, without the cream and cherry of your cock in my ass." He was still pushing against Kurt's cock in rhythmic pulses.

God, Kurt needed to come. "Fine. Deal."

"Thank you, Kurt."

And then he was gone. Kurt was cold all over but still so, so hard and he heard the click of the door before he realised what had happened. "Oh, Smythe, you dick!"

~o~

Kurt went to fashion school a romantic.

New York was everything it had promised to be and more. It was bigger and brighter and the suits were sharper and the coffee was stronger. Kurt went into his first class with bright eyes and the skinniest jeans he owned because his new life wasn't just about clothes and creating and taking over the fashion world one pair of bondage shorts at a time. It was about acceptance; about holding hands with the guy he liked; about finding love.

He'd spotted him immediately, sitting at a desk near the back. He was lounging back in his chair, the picture of uncaring sexuality, but Kurt could see the bright excitement in his eyes. This boy wanted to be here just as much as Kurt did and was ready start this new chapter of his life.

Kurt tried not to glance at him too often throughout the class, but it was a futile effort. He was packing up his things at the end (determinedly not looking back and feeling a flip in his stomach at the thought that maybe next time he could speak to him, then maybe there would be coffee, and maybe dates and maybe dare-he-think-it love) when a hand entered his vision. He glanced up and his breath caught in his throat because here he was, grinning and holding out his hand for Kurt to shake and he was even better up close. Kurt took the hand dazedly and tried not to swoon when the boy spoke.

"Hi, I'm Sebastian."

~o~

From: The Meerkat
I get to pick the guy.

To: The Meerkat
Fuck no, Smythe. I'm not having one of your cast-off trolls.

From: The Meerkat
You wound me, Kurt. But yes, my deal, my rules.

To: The Meerkat
You're a bitch.

From: The Meerkat:
Our angry sex would be so hot. I almost want you to win. Meet me at Clancy's and we'll find your lucky guy.

~o~

Blaine entered Clancy's with butterflies in his stomach and Rachel talking his ear off with everything she'd read about this place.

"Jesse St. James from The Insidersaid it's the only place to be in New York right now and we should all take advantage of this great—"

"You know, I'm fairly sure that guy's gay," Blaine said, "or a serious dick. I don't know why you seem to be having this one-way love affair with him."

"You know, Blaine," she said, shoving him, sweaty-palmed and rabbit-hearted, through the bar's doors, "you're not very nice when you're nervous."

"I'm not—"

Mercedes patted his cheek. "Shut up and start searching."

Rachel was leading them towards the bar, looking intently at every guy she passed, quite blatantly evaluating them.

"Rachel, do you think you could be a little more, I don't know, subtle?"

"What are you talking about?" She leaned over to tell their orders to the barman, giving him a once-over as she did so.

"Never mind," Blaine muttered. He looked around the room and tried to spot someone who was both gay and at least slightly appealing. The crush of people, while supplying him with more choice than he would normally get, made it very difficult to see anyone as an individual rather than part of a crowd. Rachel shoved a drink into his hand and he accepted it vaguely, taking a sip.

"How about that guy?" Mercedes asked, leaning into him so he could hear.

"Where?" Rachel called, immediately up on her toes and searching.

"By the bar. Green shirt, not the best hair, but workable."

Blaine searched and found the guy in question. He was sort of cute, he guessed. "I'll give it a go." He grinned at them. "Wish me luck."

~o~

Clancy's was the watering hole for the upwardly mobile. There were suits on every bar stool, trying to chat up women in a hideous array of body con. Sebastian was lounging at a table on the edge of the crowd; a prime position for scanning and selecting.

"Let's do this quickly, shall we?" Kurt said, dropping into the seat opposite him and ignoring the immediate advance of a foot up the inside of his leg. "I'd like to spend as little time with you as possible."

Sebastian looked out at the room with a disinterested expression. "How about him?" He nodded to a burly man at the bar wearing an obviously faux-Armani suit.

Kurt just raised an eyebrow, waiting until Sebastian deigned to look at him again. When he did, he rolled his eyes, but there was a twitch of a smile on his lips. "Don't be mean, Hummel."

Kurt just stared him down.

"Fine. Serious choices now."

"Good boy."

"Don't patronise me," Sebastian drawled as he continued his perusal. "It doesn't suit you."

"And Dolce doesn't suit you, but I don't say that when you wear it, do I?"

"Blue shirt, talking to the girl in the pink abomination."

"He's straight."

"Look at his hair and rethink that."

"He's got his hand on her ass."

Sebastian tilted his head. "Okay, not him."

"What about the brunet?"

"You'll have to be a little more specific, Kurt, darling."

"Don't Shelby me. With the black girl and the hobbit in those god-awful tights. Curls, pretty eyes."

Sebastian sat up a little and followed Kurt's eye line. "You have better taste than I've given you credit for, Hummel. Take your country boy."

Kurt stood, fully prepared to stalk off without another word, but Sebastian's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Kurt? Try not to break him too hard."

~o~

"So how did you end up in New York?" Blaine stirred his drink and smiled shyly up from under his lashes. The girls told him on almost a daily basis how much they envied his "ridiculously long eyelashes, god, Blaine, cowswould be jealous", so he decided to put them to good use.

"I moved here with my girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend now." His shoulders slumped and he turned to Blaine looking like he was about to cry. "She just went crazy and nothing I did was good enough any more. Why do girls do that?"

"I have no idea," Blaine said, trying to find a way to escape the suddenly very uncomfortable conversation.

"Has that ever happened to you?"

"Can't say it has, sorry."

"Of course not. Look at you. You're like some '50s movie star. It's guys like you they leave guys like me for."

"Well, not guys quite like me, I'm sure. Sorry, um, I can see someone trying to hit on my girlfriend. I should go." He was off the barstool and pushing through the people before the guy had a chance to reply.

"Straight and freshly dumped," he reported when he reached the girls. They made noises of sympathy and Mercedes patted his arm before they started looking again. They pointed out a couple of guys, but Blaine vetoed each of them in turn. ("Straight, come on." "Predatory gay, god no." "Are you serious, Rachel? Did you actually think he would be my type?")

"Nine o'clock," Rachel hissed.

Blaine looked to his left.

"No, my nine o'clock. Three for you. He looks like he's headed our way."

Blaine took a moment to roll his eyes at her, then turned his attention to the alleged prospect. He spotted him immediately: he had such great presence he was practically radiant; his eyes were a piercing blue and staring right at Blaine as he moved through the crowd, people parting to make way for him.

Rachel and Mercedes had disappeared and Blaine was left alone, waiting for the man to reach him. He gave a tentative smile and received a grin in return.

"Hi." There was little space between their bodies because of all the people, but a hand was extended to Blaine, which he took at once, praying to every deity that his palms weren't clammy. "I'm Kurt Hummel."

"Blaine Anderson."

"Anderson?" A raised eyebrow. "Any relation to the How To girl?"

Blaine laughed, hoping it didn't come across as shifty as it felt. "You read that column?"

"What good gay man doesn't?" Kurt said with a small laugh that made Blaine's stomach flip. He stepped a little closer and leaned in so his mouth was next to Blaine's ear. "Did you read the one on the top ten interesting ways to give him an orgasm?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth Kurt wanted to shove them back in. He was aiming for love, not a one-night stand, and questions like that were not the way to get there. He rocked back on his heels and saw Blaine blush, but with a sparkle in his eye.

"I did. You've got to wonder about the research that went into that. So many different positions." He grinned. "So much come on your skin."

Kurt was fairly positive he stopped breathing. Blaine Anderson was even better than expected. "No relation, then?"

"Buy me dinner and I might tell you."

Kurt laughed and touched Blaine's arm. "Deal. Grab your coat and meet me by the door."

Blaine nodded and he was gone.

"So?" Mercedes had snuck up behind him and he jumped, bumping into Rachel. He turned to grin at them.

"I got one."

~o~

"So tell me, Kurt, what do you do when you're not picking up guys in fashionable bars?"

Kurt popped a piece of sushi into his mouth and considered Blaine while he chewed. "I'm a designer. Graduated from Parsons just over two years ago, so I'm still trying to break into the business properly, but there's a big show coming up and if I get a slot in that…" He grinned. "Well, that could slingshot my career."

"Oh?" Blaine got a piece of sushi between his chopsticks and lifted it a few inches before they slipped and it fell back onto his plate. He watched Kurt's easy movements and wished he'd written an article on how to eat sushi without embarrassing yourself. "How are you going to get that?"

Kurt chuckled and picked up a piece of Blaine's sashimi, holding it out to him. "I'm working on it right now."

Blaine looked at the proffered piece of food and raised his eyebrows at Kurt. He only smiled in reply, eyes sparkling. Blaine rolled his eyes and allowed Kurt to feed it to him.

"And you?" Kurt said as Blaine chewed. "What do you do, mysterious Blaine?"

"Mysterious? Oh, I wouldn't want to ruin an illusion like that by telling you."

Kurt smiled, his nose crinkling up, and he fed Blaine another piece of sushi. Blaine took it despite the embarrassment because Kurt's eyes were shining so brightly, so openly, and he didn't want to deny him.

"I'll have to guess, then." Kurt rested his chin on his hand and examined Blaine critically. "You've got Ivy boy mixed with New York man fashion, so I'm going with Columbia."

"You can get that from my clothes?"

"I have many talents."

Blaine shook his head and had another go with the chopsticks. He failed miserably and Kurt tsked at him, lifting another piece to his lips.

"You know," Blaine said, "this is going to get seriously degrading."

"You like it, don't lie."

Blaine shrugged. "Well, I like you, so I guess that's true."

"You're a word guy."

"What?"

"You're a word guy, not a numbers guy. It's the way you speak."

"Okay, so I went to Columbia – a year after you, by the way – and I like words over numbers. This isn't bad progress. You could make a career out of it."

"Uh-uh." Kurt shook his head. "I can only do that if I guess what you do. Otherwise, what use would I be? Okay, new game: I get something right and I get to assist you in your quest to actually eat the food you ordered."

Blaine spiked one chopstick straight into the rice and pressed the other one against the seaweed wrapping. He successfully lifted it to his mouth and gave Kurt a triumphant look, eliciting a giggle. "Game on."

"You're cute."

"You're beautiful."

Kurt blushed and looked at his water glass. "You didn't mean to say that, did you?"

"If I say 'no', will you be offended?"

"No." A laugh. "I'm flattered, thank you." They ate in silence for a minute, Kurt watching Blaine have another violent battle with a California roll and swilling his water around in his glass. "Actor."

"Wrong," Blaine said, pointing his sticks at Kurt. "Although it's something I'm passionate about, so it's not a bad guess."

"So you're into expressing yourself, but the stage is not your home."

"I feel like I'm being psychoanalysed."

"You're not any kind of performer?"

"That depends on how you define performing."

Kurt jumped in his seat, clapping his hands. "You're a writer."

The California roll split into pieces, the centre falling out as the rice crumbled apart. Blaine sighed and laid down his chopsticks. "Okay, you must be Googling me or something because you're too good at this."

Kurt grinned. "I'm right?"

"Yes, of course you're right."

"Okay, so." He reached across and stole the centre from Blaine's destroyed roll before feeding him all the chunks of rice. "What do you write?"

"No, no, keep guessing."

"That's not fair."

"You've come this far, Kurt. Just a little further."

Kurt took one of Blaine's pieces of sushi vindictively. Blaine made a noise of protest, but Kurt ignored him. "I feel like you've written poetry before, but you don't now."

"In college, yeah."

"Okay. But you're not a novelist."

"What, am I not serious enough for that?"

"No, it's just that you don't have quite the…" He waved his chopsticks around as he searched for the word. "Introverted persona for it."

"I'm sure that's a massive generalisation."

"Maybe, but I just feel like you're more interested in what's happening around you right now, not what's going on in your head."

"So?"

"I'm not sure. Film critic?"

"You're slipping, Kurt."

"No, no, let me think!" He waved his hands frantically, shushing him. Blaine nodded, pressing his lips together. "You're published?" Blaine nodded. "More than once?" Another nod. "Alright. My final guess. I think you're a journalist."

Blaine leaned his head back and laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll admit it: you're good."

Kurt sat up, eyes bright. "Did I get it?"

"Right on the head."

He laughed gleefully and picked up Blaine's last piece of sushi with his fingers. He held it out and when Blaine took it, Kurt's fingertips lingered for a second too long on his lips. He pulled back and grabbed Blaine's hand. "What kind of articles do you write? Newspaper or magazine? Or are you a blogger, or what?"

"Kurt, okay, calm down."

Kurt just squeezed his hand tighter. "I can't believe I figured you out."

Blaine shrugged. "I guess I'm not that hard. I'm not an… introverted literary enigma, definitely." Kurt just rolled his eyes. "Okay. I'm working for a magazine right now. I'm kind of stuck at the moment. I'm not really writing what I want to write, but it's my first job out of college and I was really lucky to get it. I'm trying to get towards what really interests me, but it will take a little while."

"So we're in similar positions, then?"

"In a way."

Kurt hummed, considering this. Blaine was incredibly conscious that they were still holding hands.

"Well, now you absolutely haveto tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"The reason I'm taking you out to dinner at all. How is Blaine Anderson, journalist stuck in a literary rut, related to Blair Anderson, rising star?"

"Would you call her a rising star?"

"Her column's really big with everyone I know. She has great style."

The 'thank you' was on the tip of Blaine's tongue, but he managed to retain it. "She's my cousin," he said instead.

"What, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. The journalist genes must run in the family. I don't see her much, before you ask me to set you up with a meeting."

"I would do no such thing."

"I'm sure. But yes, a cousin with an uncomfortably similar name. She's always seemed nice, but…" He tilted his head, watching Kurt's just-fading star-struck expression. "Willing to do a lot of things for her craft. I don't know if it's always good for her."

Kurt snorted. "Yes, sleeping with ten guys for research is pretty willing."

"It was one guy! It was just… over a few days."

Kurt frowned. "Your cousin gave you the details? That's kind of weird, Blaine."

Blaine felt his stomach drop and all the blood rush to his face. His hand was suddenly clammy in Kurt's. "I-I… Her mom reads her column. Well, our whole family does, so she had to explain it to us so her mom didn't worry or… or go insane. He was her boyfriend." He hoped Kurt couldn't tell that he was lying through his teeth. He was sure his expression would give it away.

"Oh, that makes sense. Just making sure you're not some creep," Kurt teased. He thankfully didn't seem to have noticed anything. He called for the bill and absolutely insisted on paying for it, no matter how much Blaine stuttered that he really shouldn't. "So, Blaine," Kurt said when they were standing by his car, "what do you want to do?"

It may have been a proposition, but that didn't matter to Blaine. He had ten days; he needed to work fast. He stepped closer, chest pressed right against Kurt's, and tilted his head to speak into his ear. "I would like to see where you live, if you'd like to show me."

~o~

Kurt's apartment was beautiful. It was sleek and minimalist and yet still so very him that Blaine couldn't help staring. He stroked the back of the couch as he passed, admiring the tasteful art on the walls and taking in the few sketches stacked on the coffee table.

"Are these yours?" He picked up the first sketch.

"Yeah," Kurt said, putting on some soft background music. "They're for the show, if I get the slot."

Blaine nodded. "They're beautiful."

"Thank you."

Blaine looked up and caught Kurt's eye. Kurt was smiling at him, skin glowing in the warm light of the room and eyes sparkling. He stepped towards Blaine, took his hand and kissed his knuckles. Blaine's eyelids fluttered. He tilted his head up and closed his eyes. Kurt's lips pressed against his, just a brush, and he broke away again. Blaine reached up and wound his fingers into Kurt's hair, pulling him back in.

The second kiss was more sure. Kurt's arm slipped around Blaine's back, drawing him close. He sucked on Blaine's bottom lip and Blaine moaned, pushing them backwards so they fell onto the couch. Kurt pulled back.

"Hey, let's… Let's slow it down, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine mumbled, kissing Kurt's jaw. He pressed his lips down Kurt's neck and Kurt groaned and pulled him back to his lips. They fell into it again, Kurt licking across the seam of Blaine's mouth until Blaine opened it and their tongues brushed against each other. Blaine moaned and settled himself more onto Kurt, pressing their chests together.

Kurt pulled back again. "Blaine. I… that's not what I want this to be."

Blaine sighed and rested his forehead against Kurt's. "What do you mean?"

"I want us to respect each other. We need to." He breathed in deeply, still slightly breathless. "We need to take it slow."

Blaine sat up. "Yeah. Okay, yes." He let his head fall back onto the couch, trying to calm his heart down. Kurt was an amazing kisser. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a minute. He could feel Kurt watching him. "Right." He pulled himself up. "I'll get going."

Kurt scrambled to his feet. "Wait, can I see you tomorrow?"

Blaine felt butterflies awake in his stomach, wings just starting to flutter. He smiled. "Of course, I'd love to. Here." He pulled out his phone and handed it to Kurt, holding out his hand for Kurt's. They entered their numbers, exchanged phones again, and stood smiling at each other for a long moment.

Kurt walked him to the door, a hand hovering just behind his back. "Tonight was lovely."

Blaine nodded in agreement and pressed a last kiss to Kurt's lips before he stepped out of the apartment. He turned just as he reached the elevator to find Kurt still watching him from the doorway. Kurt lifted a hand in a small wave.

You're already falling in love with me.

Blaine grinned, offering a raise of the hand in return and stepped into the elevator.

I'm going to make you wish you were dead.