A/N: I rated this M just to be on the safe side. There's no hawt sex… I am sure this is a disappointment to most of you that clicked this for the M rating. I promise it does get a little steamy though! Also, this one is incredibly light-hearted, and just plain fun. Enjoy! (Title is from Bruno Mars's "Gorilla" because it's sexy as all hell… even though it mentions gorillas.)
Kurt Hummel had been cleaning Blaine Anderson's apartment for a while now. In fact, his business had helped kick start Kurt's "company," Handyman Cleaning. Their slogan was "We'll clean and we'll fix it."
The pronoun use of "we" was slightly misleading as Handyman Cleaning had only one member: Kurt: the creator, boss man, and laborer. (Honorable mentions: secretary, publicist, treasurer) The slogan itself was very truthful: Kurt was very skilled when it came to cleaning or fixing. He had his father to thank for that.
He opened Handyman Cleaning his freshman year of NYADA. Santana had her funds from her mother, and whatever other job she had at the time as an income. Rachel had two dads magically paying for her every expense. Kurt's one father barely managed NYADA's tuition, his main expense. So to maintain his high New York living—aka: the loft, clothes, food—he was forced to find employment.
Instead, genius struck, and he created employment for himself. He bought a tool box and some cleaning supplies, made a website, and he was set.
Of course his dad, Rachel, and Santana questioned the clientele Kurt would receive. Kurt himself was worried, initially. He'd seen firsthand the shifty types New York had to offer. The last thing he wanted was to become one of those newspaper articles Carole was always finding that sent her into a frenzy. So he developed a strict screening process and hoped for the best.
The Andersons were his first clients—first clients to call and first clients to arouse his suspicions. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson called to hire a cleaning service for their son, a graduate student. Kurt didn't know if he felt the situation was incredibly ostentatious or just plain odd. Either way, the Andersons paid well, so Blaine Anderson became his first client.
Kurt had really meant to dislike him in the beginning. He didn't like many of his other clients. He liked the profit, of course. For the most part, he worked for snobby, rich, and often lazy elderly people. As far as Blaine Anderson went, Kurt had expected a whole other brand of aversion. Blaine was a graduate student that could afford a maid. The idea just made him cringe, more impart of jealousy than Kurt cared to admit.
Of course Blaine foiled that plan with his extreme Blaine Anderson-ness. Kurt wasn't a writer or anything, so he figured Anderson-ness was the most fitting noun he could accomplish. The dictionary entry would read: excessive charm… smile as bright as the freaking sun… compassionate, generous, amusing… beautiful eyes, beautiful ass, beautiful everything… and therefore, incredibly, incredibly frustrating. He riled Kurt more than the condescending old grandmas and grandpas.
It wasn't like Blaine was even around that often when Kurt was cleaning the apartment. (Penthouse, of course. How much money the Andersons had, exactly, Kurt was dying to know.) But whenever he was around it was, "Oh, Kurt, let me help you with that!" or "Please, let me make you a cup of coffee!" or "No, don't clean that coffee pot, I've got it!"
He died to reply, "Damnit, Blaine, just let me do my freaking job! If you really want to help, kindly remove your gorgeous face from the room so I can concentrate." Instead, Kurt saved his money by not snapping at the hand that paid him.
Luckily today was a Wednesday afternoon, otherwise known as the afternoon Blaine had class. It was also known as the afternoon Kurt scheduled so he didn't have to see Blaine and avoid staring at his ass instead of the window he was supposed to be cleaning. He was running a little late, so he was in a rush to finish his to-do list before Blaine made it back from class. Whenever Kurt drifted into evening Blaine wouldn't stop offering to make him dinner or pay him over time, even while eating dinner.
Kurt quickly unlocked the apartment, shuffling in his cart of various cleaning supplies and tools. He put his iPod in Blaine's iHome ("Kurt, you can't use that horribly outdated portable CD player anymore") to listen to his show tunes playlist. Singing while cleaning made him feel a lot more like Cinderella with animated bubbles floating around him than simply the "help." He figured this rich apartment building actually paid the big bucks for thick walls, so he didn't even feel bad for blasting West Side Story.
"Vacuuming… mirrors… laundry…" Kurt mumbled to himself, America playing brightly in the background. Naturally, he should start the laundry first. He headed to Blaine's bedroom eagerly. He wasn't creepy, he just really, aesthetically enjoyed Blaine's bedroom. He lusted after Blaine's bed in a purely "I could sleep in that bed for days" kind of way. And the bathroom… Kurt almost drooled the first time he saw it.
The bathroom was practically a separate room in itself. There was the little area that had the skink and toilet with a walk-in-closet through another door. Then, there was yet another door that led to the most magnificent tub/shower configuration. And there were mirrors everywhere, all in all creating a heaven for getting ready in the morning, or really, just a heaven in general.
"What I wouldn't do to have this room." Kurt said wistfully, picking up several articles of clothing from the floor. He had helped Blaine organize designated, color-coordinated clothes hampers, but he still found various bowties, polos, and underwear items strewn on the floor. (Blaine was a boxer-briefs kind of guy. Not that Kurt felt creepy or turned on by that information.)
Kurt crossed the room to the awe-inspiring closet, resisting the urge to plop on the bed for a short catnap on the way. You would only have to remake the bed anyways, Kurt scolded himself. He juggled the various clothing articles to free a hand for the doorknob. He pushed the door open with his back, avoiding a collision with the door and all the clothes in his hands. So naturally he dropped a pair of Blaine's boxers.
Kurt bent down, grabbing the underwear in his hands. In another natural, slightly cursed, turn of events, the rest of the clothes he'd been balancing between his chest and chin tumbled to the ground. Deciding to deal with that mess later, he stood up with a groan, reaching for the lights with the hand that wasn't holding someone else's delicates.
His hand brushed the already flipped up light switch, and the currently lit closet registered in his mind. Wow. Blaine left the lights on. I know he's rich, but I would think even he wouldn't want to pay the electric bill caused by 24/7 closet lighting…
"Would you do me?"
Kurt jumped at the voice, turning around to face the closet for the first time. His eyes immediately locked on, not the clothes hampers, but the completely, absolutely, 100% naked Blaine Anderson. His brain shouted at him to look away, but Kurt couldn't hear it over the other part of his brain short-circuiting at the sight of a naked Blaine Anderson.
God, he had never seen so much skin on person before.
And those calves. The thighs. His dick. The small waist. His soft stomach. The surprisingly small nipples. His shoulders.
Then Kurt reached Blaine's face, meeting his eyes.
Right. This was a very present, very conscious person he was mentally devouring. The unwelcome return to reality made him realize he had been all but molesting Blaine with his eyes for at least a minute. And he was holding Blaine's boxers.
He dropped the boxers to the ground. He swallowed, trying to remember how to form words. How did you add words together to create enough of an acceptable apology for walking in on a completely undressed man and proceeding to ogle him?
"I—"
"I'm so, so sorry, Kurt!" Blaine interrupted, his face completely red. Kurt imagined it mirrored the hue of his face pretty well.
"What? Wait, what?" Kurt didn't think his jaw had dropped on seeing Blaine naked, but this whiplash turn of events almost deserved a comic reaction to mirror the complete confusion Kurt felt. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"
Blaine looked sheepish. Kurt was refusing to look below Blaine's face anymore, so he noticed the array of emotions. "Well for the absolutely horrible pickup line, of course." Blaine rubbed his face with his hand. Don't follow the hand-don't look back down-don't… shit.
Kurt forced himself to look back up at Blaine's face when he heard Blaine continue. "Insinuating that you would 'do me' in exchange for my bedroom was completely wrong, and degrading towards you, but I can promise you I only think highly of you…"
The pickup line. Had Blaine flirted with him? Through the embarrassing chain of events, Kurt hadn't even spared a thought to what the voice had actually said. He'd more so concentrated on the very unclothed body the voice brought to attention.
"Well, I walked in on you naked, so I'm the one who should be sorry." Kurt didn't feel the need to mention the minute of staring that had followed. "Which I am. So, so sorry." He added.
Was now the time where he had to beg to keep his job? This was his best gig, the old people really did suck. He would be willing to beg on his knees—NO. Do not go there, Kurt.
"I heard you come into the house, Kurt! I heard the music. I knew today was laundry day. I was changing in the first place, but I should have gotten dressed, should have called out to you…" Blaine's voiced trailed off. He edged closer a few feet and shrugged his shoulders, almost in defeat.
Kurt longed to reach out and comfort him. If it wasn't for the fear of being fired, that was… also the fact that Blaine was still naked.
"As for you working here—"
Kurt quickly crossed the closet length and clutched Blaine's hand between his, interrupting Blaine, "Please don't fire me! God, working for you—seeing you—is the highlight of my week, no matter how much I lie to myself."
Holding someone's hand while they are naked was probably crossing some form of line, Kurt considered in retrospect. How could he have worried about sketchy clients, when in the end it was him accosting an innocent, naked man?
Blaine shook his head slowly. Kurt's heart sank, probably landing somewhere near his feet, around all the clothes on the floor. Not only was he about to be fired, but he was also leaving his former workplace in a mess. He couldn't think of a more ungrateful situation. He would have to offer to tidy up before his walk of shame.
He slipped his hands away from Blaine's, but as he began to turn away his hands were pulled back into the embrace. He looked up at Blaine, who had a small smile on his face. He looked… hopeful?
"Kurt, I don't think you can work for me anymore." Kurt frowned, hurt that Blaine would draw him close and smile at him, only to fire him. At this rate, he wouldn't offer to tidy up before leaving.
"I don't think I should be employing someone I plan on asking out."
"What? Wait, what?" Again with the whiplash. He would have to see a doctor after this encounter.
Blaine had a full-fledged grin now. "I've been waiting to ask you out for forever, Kurt. I don't know what took me so long. I don't know why I chose to be naked! I don't know why I propositioned you with a really forward pickup line first! I just know I can't, absolutely cannot, wait any longer. Please go out with me."
Taking a few seconds to collect himself, Kurt looked around the room. The clothes were still on the floor, but he felt like his heart had risen back to his chest. A very romantic proposal could do that to a guy.
"Any excuse to spend time with you." Kurt replied with a smile.
Blaine exhaled in relief, instantly relaxing. He almost felt bad for making Blaine wait that long for a response. More at the forefront of his mind, though, was how close he was standing to Blaine.
He met Blaine's eyes before letting them drift down to Blaine's lips. He looked back up, but this time Blaine was looking down at Kurt's lips. The moment seemed at standstill, as was Kurt's breathing. His heart seemed to thump on painfully loudly in the smaller closet space. Kurt unknowingly inched forward. How long had he denied himself even fantasizing about kissing Blaine? Their noses brushed. Why had they waited so long? Blaine's hands traveled upwards, cupping each side of his face.
"Why did we wait?" Kurt whispered.
"No more." Blaine replied without hesitation, closing the final distance between them. Kurt's body surged forward in reaction, hands making contact with Blaine's waist. Unlike any kiss before, he felt the need to hold on.
Their lips slid over each other until they locked into the perfect position. Kurt would have thrown away the key and remained sealed to Blaine if it wasn't for his pesky habit of breathing. Kurt gasped for breath, but he didn't gain much oxygen before Blaine pushed even closer, licking into Kurt's mouth. The inherently dirty feeling of this kiss warranted an entirely different gasp.
Blaine clutched the back of Kurt's bicep as though he was holding on for support and moaned loudly.
Both Kurt and Blaine broke apart at the volume of the sound in the closet. Kurt removed his hands from Blaine, taking note of the still very naked body in front of him and what having his hands on said body did to his body.
"So, for the record, I would do you." Kurt smirked. Blaine wiped the smirk off his face with a quick kiss that had a literal mwah sound effect. Giggling (when was the last time he giggled?) Kurt added, "But I think the rule is after the third date. Second, if there's cheesecake."
Blaine's face lit up. He turned away from Kurt—wow, I hadn't seen that angle yet, dear lord… The view is worth not waiting for any date.
Blaine looked over his shoulder, catching Kurt with a knowing smirk. If Kurt didn't know better, he'd think Blaine had done that on purpose.
"You'd better help me pick out a tie so we can get started on those dates."