A/N: This story is a continuation of an article I wrote on here a couple months ago. A few people asked me to write a fanfiction on it. I also want to say a massive thank you to my lovely assistant Nadine! She forces me to write, even when times are tough. Thats babe! Enjoy!. -Rose
Intro
It was a cold morning, and Blaine Anderson was adding milk to his wheat biscuits, he shivered when he realised that the side door was open and letting in a small draft. Just as he was about to put the milk back in the fridge he fingered a small picture. The boy in it was a flawless, someone Blaine confided in, and someone Blaine loved, and still did love. The picture was of Kurt Hummel; right now he was in Los Angeles designing for massive celebrities, creating looks of pure genius. Blaine doubted if Kurt would even remember him.
As Blaine walked towards the subway he saw a fashion magazine with a very familiar looking face on the front cover. The lingering, deep and beautiful eyes, skin so full of life and beauty and hair only angels could create. Then it suddenly hit him, he was staring at Kurt. Blaine's first immediate reaction was, 'oh my god, he's flawless, and 'then after looking a second time he simply said,' ah shit'. He bought a magazine anyway. As he walked though the train doors he noticed Kurt once again, on an advert on the train wall. He sighed, why did Kurt have to be so flawless, why was he forced to watch him every single day, on television, in movies, he even wore his clothes.
Blaine picked up the magazine scanning through the pointless articles about what was 'in' this summer. Back in college Blaine would've asked Kurt what the big deal was, why did all these fashion designers have to follow each other like sheep. Kurt picked up on what Blaine was saying, and his words inspired Kurt to create one of his best collections ever.
When the train doors finally opened he bolted to the seats that were left. He opened his magazine too see a spotless photo of Kurt Hummel, to the left a long interview, which Blaine began to read.
The cold breeze of the Spring morning air woke Kurt. His body was slightly out of the blanket and his hand lingering over the side of his bed. Rubbing his eyes he sat up straight and scowled at the open window mumbling, "Fuck you too"
Shutting the window he headed straight for the kitchen, searching frantically in every nook and cranny for aspirin or any other god damned drug that would make his head feel a little better.
"I need a holiday," he sighed through clenched teeth. With no inspiration and very little drawings started never mind completed, he was very much behind schedule.
"When you look for inspiration you should always look where your heart is destined to be." Kurt remembered Blaine saying this to him once, back in college when Kurt was lagging his classes. They both took a trip that year to India. It was beautiful. Kurt smiled at the memory, but his heart didn't belong in India anymore, it wanted to go somewhere different, somewhere more like… Venice.
Blaine sat in his apartment waiting. His mind had ran out of thoughts about where he could find Kurt. Magazines spread out all over them were scattered out on the coffee tables, Kurt's face glaring at Blaine with his stern but beautiful eyes, one in particular interested Blaine. Kurt's eyes were bluer than the other photos, and his face a lot brighter; it was all most as if he was looking at the Kurt he dated in High School. He looked down the page to see two words in bold. 'No Inspiration' Blaine suddenly came to realisation where Kurt was… 'Venice'
Venice wasn't a place Blaine knew a lot about, he just knew it was in Italy and was suppose to be a beautiful. He heard Kurt talking about it back in Dalton before they started dating. Kurt told him that if he were ever stuck for inspiration he would travel to Venice.
It was a risk, Blaine didn't exactly have a lot of money, and he wasn't about to ask his dad. If he dad found out why he needed to go to Venice he would kill him, and not probably disown him. Blaine sulked around the room silently, thinking of ways to get to Italy without putting himself into debt. Unfortunately there was only one way to get to Italy without getting himself into debt, but it was going to be fucking difficult.
Chapter One
The airport was crowded. I tried my hardest to blend into the crowd, trying my best not to get noticed. Extremely hard as that may seem considering I was wearing a massive bright blue jacket. It seemed to be working to my advantage. I was just about to approach the woman at the desk and hand her my ticket, when I felt a strong unfamiliar hand on my shoulder, they grasped tight, and I gasped, turning around abruptly.
"Kurt Hummel, I'm arresting you on suspicion of drug abuse and smuggling, you do not have to say anything, anything you do say will be used against or for you in the court of law," well shit. There goes my trip to Venice.
"I'm not on drugs sir, at least not today, and I don't have any drugs in my luggage. Just because you hear a few rumours about me on the news doesn't mean I always do drugs, and it certainly doesn't mean I try and smuggle them!" I was a little angry, anyone would be. I didn't have any drugs on me, I was completely innocent, and now I'm going to have to sit in a small stuffy room and listen to some man asking me questions that I don't understand, and trying to screw with my words.
"Do you have a lawyer we could call sir?"
"Yes, Blaine Anderson." Okay, so Blaine wasn't technically a lawyer, but his father was, it was only right he knew a little about the law… right?
"Is he not…"
"A writer, yes… just fucking call him please." Maybe I could have been a little less snarky, but I was annoyed with the situation, and just wanted the hell out. This other funny looking bald guy with glasses came over and whispered some shit in the cop's ear.
"Mr Hummel. We'll be taking you back here until we can get in touch with Mr Anderson." I tried not to laugh at the innuendos that I was thinking up in my head. Seriously the way the detective guy said it you would nearly think he was about to have me star in a porno. I walked away with them both; receiving sympathetic looks from the people whom I would have been travelling with if it weren't for those meddling detective guys.
The airport was filled with people, everywhere I walked people brushed my shoulders and some pinched my bum, I'm not gonna lie, but my bum is pretty sexy. I headed over to the ticket desk to ask if Kurt had checked in when behind me I could hear two people talking.
"How do you know that's Blaine Anderson anyway?"
"I've read his books, or my wife reads his books…"
"Are you positive its him?"
"Yes it's me, I'm glad you're a fan of my books sir," I smirked at the man who quite bluntly looked terrified. The other one just rolled his eyes and shook my hand with a firm grasp.
"Your client is waiting for you in the back room." Oh my, so many sexual innuendos.
"I think your maybe a little mistaken, I need to find out where Kurt Hummel is."
"Kurt Hummel is your client sir, he asked us to call you, but you never answered your house phone or your cell, then this man here saw you and automatically knew you, from his wife's books of course." Shit, what has he done now…?
"Wife's books, sure. That's what they all say. Take me there." I followed the two men along an extremely long and dull looking corridor, it was warm and stuffy, and frankly. I couldn't wait to leave. But if this was the Kurt Hummel I knew, there was no way I was leaving without him.
They searched me, stripped me, tried to find drugs in my anal passage but they eventually gave up. From what I gathered they were now searching through everything in my luggage looking for drugs, drugs that didn't exist.
"Well, if it isn't Kurt Hummel, in trouble again." I looked up sharply, recognising the voice and gasped at the sight of a beautiful man.
"You have writers hair, its sexy," I giggled and gave him a tight hug, although he flinched at the sudden contact.
"Why are you doing this to yourself Kurt?"
"Doing what? Going to Venice for a holiday and getting arrested for nothing?" I was getting a little annoyed with all the hate. I really was not that bad.
"No, why are you trying to make a spectacle of yourself, trying to get out of something you know you've done wrong." I can't believe I was hearing this.
"I don't have any drugs Blaine!" I screamed.
"Then why are they searching you!"
"You know, out of all the people I happen to be friends with in the world. I thought you would be the first one to back me up." I sat down silently, and burrowed my head into my arms. I just wanted to leave, go away. Never come back.
"I do believe you."
"No you don't, if you did you'd get me the hell outta here."
"Fine, then I'll do it. I'll get out outta here, if you promise me one thing…"
"Yes?"
"You buy us two tickets for some beautiful hotel by the beach in any country you want, preferably somewhere warm."
"Why?"
"Because I want to spend some uh… quality time with you." I smirked at his words and leaded back on my chair.
"What's in it for me?"
"Hey, don't you get all gangster on me, I'm rescuing your ass from prison."
"Fine, how does Fiji sound?"
"Hmm, I like your style Hummel…"
"I know. You're wearing a jacket from my spring collection."
"I am?" Blaine joked, "I never realised." I smirked.
"Hurry the fuck up, I'm bored." I burrowed my head in my arms and closed my eyes. What the hell was I getting myself into? I must be crazy.
Three hours later, yes, that's three hours later, Blaine came pouncing into the little room.
"Your free. Can we go to Fiji now." God, he was such a child.
"Nothings changed up there then? You're still childish, only now you're sexy and have writers hair."
"Was I not sexy before?" Blaine sounded a little offended.
"That hair you had at Dalton contained way to much gel. I never told you, cause you would've just told me to stop wearing broaches with animals."
"Oh my god, remember the Llama one you were going to buy! I had to stop you before your dad killed you for taking too much money out of his credit card." Blaine was the only one who could actually talk some sense into my head. He was the only one, apart from my dad who really looked after me, wanted me. Until his, almighty powerful father got involved.
We left the small room and headed toward the ticket booth.
"Why are you here Blaine? Why did you come? You didn't have too. You could have sat at home and watched Oprah or some shit." I was being serious, Blaine loves Oprah.
"I missed you, I've been trying to track you down for years, but every time I do I get told to 'fuck off' by security. I was front row at your runway the last Fashion Week. We were so close, but I was too scared to approach you with all those people."
"Whoa, and to think all this time, all I've done is smoke, drink and sniff a little powder." I felt kind of bad now. Blaine has been trying for years to find me, I had never forgotten about him. I just never bothered to try and find him; I always thought he would find me. But now I know it wasn't that simple. At least he got to me somehow. God that was fucking cheesy.
The lady at the desk seemed to be inpatient with the awkwardness that arose.
"Can I help you?"
"Uh, yea, we need to go to Fiji, like now?"
"Two moments please sir." Her posh English accent was inevitable. Her awful red heels clicked on the horrible white floor, and walked over to a man in a black suit. It was like a cheesy porno, 'Air Hostess meets sexy Business Man travelling first class.'
"Are you single?" I asked, reluctantly. Blaine seemed a little nervous.
"I don't really know to be honest. This guy, he just, we had an argument. He left. It was a few days ago. He isn't answering his phone." Oh.
"So is this why your here, because you wanted me as seconds, because you couldn't get laid anywhere else?"
"No! We argued because I wanted to find you! Not because I couldn't get laid. All I've done for the past few days is get laid. I wouldn't be surprised if I had a bad case of Syphilis or something." Okay, ew.
"Okay, Blaine stop. Everyone can hear that. It's disgusting. I'm not going anywhere with you if you have Syphilis."
"I don't have Syphilis, I was using it as an example." Try telling the whole airport that.
"Everyone! I don't have Syphilis! I was using it as an example." Oh my God.
"Blaine, do you have to be so embarrassing." He was a little red and I was fuming. Thank god there was no paparazzi.
"Mister Anderson, sorry there is no tickets left for the next flight to Fiji." I am not waiting in this airport any more!
"Listen lady, do you know who I am? I'm Kurt fucking Hummel, and this is my friend Blaine Anderson, and we wants a flight to Fiji, like right now! If you don't give me the flight to Fiji, I'll make sure that my team of twenty lawyers will sue your ass quicker than the speed of light. Now get us on that flight!" If my lawyers can get me out the mess I left behind a few months ago, they can sue her ass quicker than my Aunt Mildred can chug whisky.
"Wait, hang on you have lawyers? I though you didn't have any?" Oh Blaine, never change.
"Are you really still that slow?" He gave me a confused look and twiddled with his luggage. Strange days make productive days.