Hi guys

I know I'm not supposed to have more than one fic on the go at the same time, but writing for YDOYD:SY kind of went off track recently. It should be resumed very soon but for now here is another fic to keep you occupied!

Liz xxx

Chapter 1

I sat in the room, rocking back and forth slightly on the chair. Every so often I would check my watch, noting how the temperature of the room was just slightly too cold for my liking.

He was late.

"He's late." I repeated, this time out loud for the benefit of Steve. He was dressed in his usual smart attire of a dark blue suit, light blue shirt and shiny tie blending in nicely and his fingers clicking away on the polished keys of his laptop. If he wasn't my solicitor his impeccable sense for fashion and cleanliness meant we might actually be quite good friends.

"I know. Be patient Kurt." I sighed, a long drawn out sound that reflected my opinion of this whole situation. My eyes rested on the wall clock in the room – following the plastic hand ticking round the numbers until finally the door suddenly opened.

"Sorry we're late." I looked up to meet the eyes of Brian – another smartly dressed solicitor but not quite as handsome as mine. The hair on the top of his head was thinning already and it looked like his dye needed a touch up. Opening the door had sent another waft of cold air through the room and the leaves of the plant nearby fluttered in it.

"That's fine Brian." The words had been directed at me but Steve answered, leaving his laptop to smile nicely and signal to the seats opposite us. As Brian went to sit down I purposefully ignored him – eyes focused on the person behind him.

"Blaine." He looked up, his eyes having been trained on his own solicitor's back – suddenly fixing on me. I was shocked by the feeling that jolted through me.

"Kurt."

It was funny. He looked exactly the same as when I'd first met him – charming, innocent, beautiful. His hair was still styled in the same public schoolboy fashion and that musky woody smell of his wafted over and hovered torturingly over my nostrils. But his eyes told a different story. Blaine sat down in the chair diagonal from mine, crossing his legs and fixing me with a glare I'd never thought I would ever see.

"Ok." Suddenly the man that had been silent throughout this whole process piped up, clearing his throat and brushing down an imaginary piece of fluff on his jacket lapel. "Good morning gentlemen."

"Good morning." For once we all spoke in union and said the same thing – again Blaine and my eyes connected at the sound of the other's voice and that same feeling rushed through me. I couldn't decide if it was desire or hatred.

"I understand both parties have agreed and are ready to proceed?" Brian and Steve nodded at the question directed to them, each quickly glancing to their client before they responded. I nodded my head as quickly as I could before focusing my eyes on the plant that had moved earlier. The sound of a suitcase being placed on the table regained my attention – the man flicked it open and then slowly opened it. He picked out the two sets of paper, held them in one hand as he reclosed the case and then slid each to opposite sides of the table.

"You may present these." Immediately Steve picked up our copy. He shifted in his chair to face me and then put on a hushed tone to his voice.

"Ok. I checked through this earlier. It agrees to an equal split of assets with you still having full control of your business and the warehouse, as long as Blaine gets to keep the house." Holding out my palm I was handed the document and flicked through it. This was it. Printed out on these pages was every symbol of my relationship with Blaine. Every trinket, item, memory. Listed and then divided like meaningless words. I suppose I should be angry that it had ended like this – that all my hard work and dreams had gone to nothing. But that was life.

"Ok. That's fine." I handed the paper back to Steve, not wanting to see it any more, and then stole a glance across the room. Blaine and Brian seemed to be having a more in depth conversation – Blaine's forehead creased in a way I used to find adorable. I tried to read what his lips were saying but couldn't figure it out, and was then cut off anyway by him nodding his head and then turning back to us.

"We agree." All of us turned to look at the man. He was holding his briefcase in both hands, clasping the metal handle in a relaxed but strong looking manner. I suppose he dealt with things like this all the time – families being torn apart, people giving up. It was just a job to him.

"All you need to do is sign and you are no longer Mr and Mr Hummel-Anderson." Suddenly two pens appeared on the table. I stared at them like they were aliens. Steve picked up ours and handed it to me, his expression solemn but understanding.

"Sign Kurt." It will only take two seconds. Then finally you can get on with your life. I sighed, taking it from him and then flicking to the right page. My signature was flamboyant and took up a large majority of the line. I then looked up to Blaine, who had signed his copy too and stared back at me.

"Swap." The papers were placed on the table – I used the tips of my fingers to push mine over – eyes never breaking contact with him as I did so, and then the other was sent back my way too. I stared down at his signature – something I had seen so many times before on so many things. The last time I would ever see it.

"Before you finish." Suddenly I looked to the side. The man had spoken again, stopping us in his tracks. The pen was in my hand but Blaine had already moved to begin writing – something that annoyed me slightly.

"I like to talk with both parties frankly – try to help them decide if this is really what they want."

"Oh this is what we want." My response came out more bitter than I intended it, perhaps from the annoyance from before or just the fact that I was tired, I was tired of this.

"Yes. It is." I looked at Blaine and saw he was tired too.

"Well humour me." The man signalled for us to sit back. For a second I wanted to disobey and I could tell Blaine agreed. But for some unknown reason I didn't. As I leant back in the chair Steve looked at me in confusion but I simply handed him the pen and folded my arms, waiting expectantly.

"Who wants to tell me about the first time you met?" I almost laughed at the question. What? This was ridiculous. Blaine seemed as disgusted as I was, almost leaning back forward for the papers, but he was held back by the man's imaginary force again and simply shook his head.

"Come on. One of you must remember." I wasn't saying anything. I glared at my husband – daring him to speak but also at the same time wanting him to. Then, after a minute or so of silence I finally relented.

"Ok, fine. I will."

The coffee shop was busy. I was in a rush and slightly damp from the rain outside. I hated rain – it pretty much ruined every pretty thing. If I didn't hurry up I was going to be late for my first class, but I had to get my morning coffee. I'd been in such a rush I hadn't even gone to my normal place – just picked the first one I came across after running from my dorm. The queue was long so I spent the majority of the time brushing myself off and trying to make my hair resemble something of what it had when I'd first left. Maybe Rachel would save me a seat – she usually did. And she owed me anyway after setting me up on that horrendous date.

I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I barely noticed the shuffling steps I took, people pushing past with steaming beverages, until suddenly a voice brought me out of my daze.

"Can I help you?" I glanced up, ready to state my order and then get out of here. Then all speech became impossible.

The man standing in front of me was gorgeous. Dense black hair, parted to the side with just enough gel to tame it but show a hint of curl, framing a face made of tanned skin and cheekbones like knives. For a second I wondered if instead of waking up I'd somehow been instantly killed and transported straight to heaven. That was the only explanation for such a beautiful face. And those eyes…

"Can I help you?" Oh God. He'd repeated the question. In a flash I was back to reality and somehow still inches away from the same person. Well, technically there was a counter separating us, but still.

"Um…er…yeah…" Christ. I couldn't even speak. Somehow this man had made me speechless simply by the power of just being there. And speaking to me in that velvety voice. Suddenly I started to imagine that voice saying my name – saying my name as he held me close, kissed my neck, took off my shirt…

"Hey Mr, do you wanna order? Some of us have jobs to get to!" Damn. Again I jerked back to the present and again I wished I hadn't. I was really making a fool of myself now. And the worst part was heaven guy was finding it amusing.

"I'm sorry, are you ok?" He smiled and I almost passed out. Come on Kurt. You either had to get yourself together now or leave the shop in disgrace. There's no way you would ever be able to return. This guy probably wasn't even gay anyway – that type never were. Inwardly slapping myself I tugged on the lapel of my coat and finally managed to say something.

"Grande nonfat mocha. Please." My voice was strangled. I sounded like I'd just come out of hiding and was using my vocal chords for the first time in months. Heaven boy tried to hide the smile that graced his face but didn't really succeed – what made it even more humiliating was that he looked even more attractive doing it. I was probably drooling.

"Coming right up." Moving to write my order on the cup I stared straight forward, not wanting to look around and see the crowd of people looking at me condescendingly for making them late. I was late too. He finished with a flourish then handed it to another barista, before looking back at me again.

"Anything else?"

"No." That was quite enough. He typed in the amount on the cash machine and then shot another devastating smile in my direction.

"That'll be 3 dollars 50 please." Fumbling around in my wallet I wanted more than ever to be transported to Siberia – somewhere where I might be able to cool down the flaming furnace that was my face. When I found the right change I practically flung it at him, not wanting to risk our hands touching and the noise that was building up inside me inevitably flying out.

"Thank you." Heaven boy was almost finished, putting away my change and then ripping off the receipt, handing it to me. "Have a nice day." Oh I would.