"Partner? You wanna make me partner?"
Arthur smiled. He'd been Blaine's mentor at the firm since he started and had grown ridiculously fond of him. He had a tendency to take on cases that had no chance of winning for clients that couldn't pay, because he was a sucker for a sob story and an underdog, but he was honest and sweet, and that wasn't something he saw a lot of in his line of work. Blaine would rather lose than win by playing dirty. Blaine cared when nobody else did. It made a refreshing change.
"You got it. You've been on the right track for months, and landing the Peterson contract? You're as good as in."
Blaine sat at his desk, dumbstruck for a second, until he remembered that he made his living by talking. He jumped up and reached for Arthur's hand, only to have his arm batted aside in favour of a hug, followed by a slap on the back to assert their manliness and the entirely professional nature of their relationship.
"Thank you. Thank you so much, Ar- Mr Saunders. I can't tell you what this means, I just – wow."
"Hey, don't thank me just yet. You've still got the dinner to get through tomorrow night, lots of schmoozing, wine, far too much food, a dozen husbands and wives you'd rather not talk to…"
"Oh, are people bringing spouses? I'll call Kurt."
He felt himself smiling just saying his name, his husband's name. His thumb automatically went to the ring on his left hand, the metal already feeling so natural after just a few months. He sat on his desk and picked up the phone, ready to dial the only number he knew by heart.
"Um, Blaine?"
"Yeah?"
"It's just that… I know New York is a progressive city and all, but-"
Blaine put the phone down, his defences rising immediately.
"But what?"
"Now, you know how much I care about you and Kurt, don't you? Susan and I came to your wedding, and we're inviting you both to our anniversary party, and-"
"Just say it, Arthur."
"It's not me, kid. It's the firm. The partners are all a little, um, old-fashioned."
"You mean bigoted? Intolerant?"
"They're afraid of what they don't understand. It's all very well having these modern ideals and knowing better, but this isn't my company."
"So, you want me to just… leave him at home? Pretend to be straight?"
"I'm not telling you to lie, Blaine, I'm just saying you should think about whether or not you want this to happen. Do you really want to throw away four years hard work, just to prove a point?"
"You make it sound like nothing."
"I'm sorry. Really. But you can play the game for one night or start over somewhere else. I don't want to see you miss out, not after all this time. You deserve this."
"Oh, Blaine, I'm so sorry."
Blaine looked up from where he was slumped on the sofa, shirt half open, tie loosened. Kurt, glowing in a long, soft, creamy sweater and black harems, hopped up to sit on the arm of the couch. He pulled Blaine between his knees, kissing his curls and rubbing his shoulders. Blaine nuzzled against his thigh and pulled Kurt's feet into his lap. They often wondered how they got so tangled together, but it always made sense at first.
"I thought you'd be mad."
"At him, maybe, but not you. He shouldn't have put you in this situation. It's awful. What are you going to do?"
Blaine looked back, surprised.
"Well, I can't go. I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm not."
Kurt scooted down so he was wedged in between the sofa and Blaine's back, his legs still wrapped around his waist. He reached up to turn Blaine's head away again, expertly massaging his scalp the way he knew always calmed him down.
"Honey, you can't not go. You're a good lawyer and you deserve this; just talk about work for a night and I'll remind you of exactly how gay you are the second you get home."
Blaine laughed, kissed Kurt's knee and leaned back into his chest.
"Sounds good. You're sure you're not upset?"
"I'm angry for you, not with you. I'm upset that this kind of crap still happens. I guess when you get some big partner-y bonus you'll have to use it to buy me something pretty."
Kurt kissed the back of Blaine's neck until he shuddered and melted against him.
"I've been told all about you, Anderson. Fine work you've been doing. Fine work."
Blaine smiled as politely as ever at the rotund, ruddy-cheeked man opposite him. Another hour, a few hands to shake, a couple more drinks and he'd be gone. He'd be at home with Kurt and a much higher salary and he wouldn't have to lie.
"Thank you, sir. I'm happy to do it. This is the most respected company in the city."
He had to dig his fingernails into his thigh to relieve the tension building in his chest. The fat man's wife spotted the ring on the hand that was clutching firmly at a glass of champagne.
"So, your wife couldn't make it tonight?"
Blaine bit his lip and shook his head.
"Flying solo this evening."
She smiled, obviously a little inebriated but genuinely interested.
"So how long have you two been married?"
Blaine blushed and smiled. He couldn't help feeling like a lovesick teenager again when he talked about Kurt, even under the circumstances.
"Almost three months, but we've been together about ten years."
"That's adorable! High school sweethearts! Clive, darling, did you hear that?"
"All I heard was 'honeymoon period'. It won't be long before she's got you chained up at home, not letting you out of her sight." Blaine caught Arthur's eye at the other end of the table. He looked painfully apologetic, but Blaine shook his head at him. "Women, Anderson, they're all the same. Now she's got her claws in, bagged a lawyer, it's all downhill."
The woman slapped his arm with her manicured hand.
"Clive! You better not be talking about me!" He muttered a 'course not' under his breath. "Blaine, sweetheart, don't you listen to this old cynic. I'm sure you and your wife are going to be very happy. It's all about communication. Trust. Honesty. You can't go wrong as long as you're totally honest." Blaine stared into his drink. He'd prided himself on being honest since he was six. Twenty years later, he had no intention of changing that. "So, sweetie, what's her name?"
Blaine took a deep breath and looked the woman straight in the eyes.
"Kurt. His name is Kurt."
Her eyes widened and she even gasped a little. Clive's mouth fell open.
"I- I- his?"
"Yep," Blaine went on, "My husband. The best thing that's ever happened to me. He's better than this job. He's better than any partnership you could offer me. If you expect me to keep quiet about him for you, then I'm out. I'll be out of this firm just like I've been out since I was fifteen. I'm not going back in the closet for anyone. It's dark in there." He stood up. "Sorry, Arthur. Clive. Cynthia." He nodded politely to each of them in turn, a grin plastered over his face. He stepped away from the table, tucking his chair in neatly. He darted around the table to whisper in Cynthia's ear, "You're right; honesty is the key. But sex helps too. Now excuse me while I go and have a lot of it with the very handsome man waiting at home for me."
He gave her a peck on the cheek, smiled at the various suited figures gawping at him, and strolled out of the ballroom the company had hired for the evening. He took a deep breath of cold air as soon as he got outside and instinctively reached for his phone. He savoured the feeling of raindrops on his scalp, loosening the gel that was holding his hair in place.
"Blaine? Is it awful? Did something happen?"
Blaine grinned just at the sound of his voice.
"Everything's okay, baby. Well. I think I just quit my job. But I'm good. I'm coming home."
"Blaine!"
Two voices shouted his name, one down the phone and one behind him. Blaine spun around to see Arthur running at him, pointlessly holding his hand over his head as if it could stop him from getting wet. He told Kurt to hold on as the greying man almost collided with him.
"What is it? How fired am I?"
Arthur was almost wheezing, and Blaine couldn't help putting a hand on his arm to support him. He really hadn't meant any harm, and he'd only ever been kind to Blaine.
"I… I can't remember the last time I ran like that…"
He coughed a few times between laughing at himself.
"I didn't realise I'd gotten away so quickly. Jesus, are you okay?"
Arthur held up a hand and nodded.
"Fine, fine, I'm fine. I, Blaine, you're-not-fired."
"Of course I'm not fired. They're not allowed to fire me for being gay. But I know how this works. I'm sure they'll find some way to push me out and make me quit, and I'm not about to stick around just so they can-"
Arthur put both hands on Blaine's shoulders.
"No, no. You don't understand. They went apeshit in there after you left." He saw Blaine roll his eyes. "Would you listen to me for five seconds? Blaine. They like that you're gay."
"What? If they ask me to give them a makeover I swear to God-"
"No, no, they've got this diversity initiative thing they have to do, and they were this close to giving the spot to Larry just so they could tick the gay box."
"Larry's gay? But he can barely dress himself. And he's called Larry."
"And he's a terrible candidate. Now they can have a gay partner who's actually good."
"Are you kidding me? First you think they're going to shun me, and now they want to parade me around like a little rainbow poodle?"
"You guys have those?"
"No! I just meant- if I don't deserve this then I don't want it. You're making me partner because I'm fucking good, right, not just so you can boast about some equal opportunities crap?"
"Well, you tell me. Are you good enough to be a partner?"
"You know I am."
"I know you're a damn sight better than Larry. Now get your ass back in there and be as gay as you want and get your promotion."
Blaine paused, looking at the building full of small talk and ass-kissing and drunken rambling before glancing down at the suit that was already plastered to his body. He grinned at Arthur.
"No thanks. They're all so far gone they won't even remember I left. Besides, the only way I can really be as gay as I want is tricky to pull off by myself. See you tomorrow."
After a pause, the man pulled him into a tight hug.
"I'm glad it's you, Anderson. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, sir. I think I know someone else who'll be prouder."
Kurt, having heard the conversation through the phone, was waiting for Blaine with champagne, strawberries and a smile as soon as he got a foot in the door.
"I'm not hiding anything ever again. I promise, okay, I'm never going to an event without you, because it's just boring. I'll paint my office pink; they can't stop me."
"You don't like pink."
"Then I'll paint giant cocks on the walls."
Kurt nodded thoughtfully.
"You are partial to cock."
"I'm partial to you."
Kurt rolled his eyes and Blaine fell into his arms, tux soaked, bowtie undone and hanging around his neck in a way that made Kurt want to tear his clothes off and fuck him on the kitchen table. So that's exactly what he did.
Blaine had never been happier to be gay.