AN: Holy hell it's been a long time since I've written anything so advance appolgies for the crapness that is this.

Warnings: This is Kurtofsky people! Future!Fic Kurtofsky. That means Kurt Hummel and Dave Karofsky are gunna get it on. If this bothers you, press the back button. I don't want to hear your hate.

So yeah...Enjoy!

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was living the dream.

He had moved to New York at eighteen to study music and theatre while looking for his big break. He had lived in a crappy little apartment with Rachel of all people and worked a job at some dive little cafe that let him sing whenever they didn't have a gig booked. He found that he could rock the diva and starving artist life at the same time and it wasn't long before he was cast in a small off Broadway play.

And so life continued for a few years. There were ugly times when he and Rachel worried about rent, and food, and tuition, and how the hell were they supposed to work a fourty hour week and get their assignments done and do that little thing known as sleep. But looking back on those days, they were pretty beautiful too.

His break came as a double blow a few months after graduation. He had been working on his demo for a while and finally sent it off the same day he went down to audition for a new Broadway musical. Lo and behold after a few grulling weeks call backs he got the lead and felt on top of the world only to discover that the studio loved his demo and he was getting a record deal. Safe to say there weren't many people as happy as him in the world right then.

Flash forward. Kurt Hummel, at age twenty-six, is a house hold name having just completed his third film that baged himself an Oscar. He's beloved by critics and audiences alike, is an active member of the LGBT community, is making bank by doing what he loves, and just landed himself another lead role in a Broadway play and is returning home to the NYC herself. Life is pretty much perfect.

So it's about time the shit hit the fan, right?

"You have no idea how good it feels to be back. LA is not meant for living long term." Kurt complained at Rachel over his cell as he lifted his final picture out of the box and placed it on his shelf. It was one of his favorites, just the Hudson-Hummel family sitting around the table for the last Friday dinner before the boys went off to college. Finn has his goofy grin going full blast and his dad and Carol are looking so proud. Finn had gotten a football scholarship to Dallas and found that he loved it down there where everything was big enough to fit him.

"Well, it's what you get for abandoning the true art of theatre to join the glitz and glamour of Hollywood," she teased. Rachel was a Broadway diva through thick and thin and had never been tempted by the glossy sheen of the film industry. "It'll be weeks before you'll be able to get rid of that plastic feel and start feeling real again."

"Whatever you say, my dear. Anywho, I better let you go. Be prepared to be spoiled rotten after the show," he reminded her. He fully planned on giving her a proper night on the town after seeing her nail it in her newest play.

After hanging up he looked around his newly unpacked flat with pride. Yes life was good.

He flopped himself down on his couch and pulled out his laptop to waste some time and regain his strength before heading out.

But when he opened up his email his heart stopped cold.

Waiting for him in his inbox was a new message.

From KurtHummelLover152.

What the fuck? He double checked to make sure he was infact signed into his private address. He was. Shit.

He knew recognized the name. He was one of the...intense fans. The ones that retweeted everyone of his messages with replies just this side of too personal. The ones that talked about how they had been to all of his live shows. The ones who stood just a little to close when asking for an autograph. The ones who talked about how he was their soul mate. Kurt never minded his more dedicated fanbase, lord knew he had quite a number of his own obsessions when he was younger so who was he to judge.

But how the hell did he get my personal address? There was a line, and 152 had crossed a few times over.

Kurt felt his heart pounding in his ears and with a gulp he opened the message.

Hey Babe,

So you're back in the Big Apple? That's fantastic! I know you always feel better here. LA just isn't for you? So I think you should spend a few days relaxing and then it's about time we meet face to face, don't you think? I mean we've met a few times before after your shows, but those were in crowds. We need a place where we can just talk.

So you rest up and get ready. I'll message you soon with details!

Love,

JS.

Kurt sat frozen in front of his computer for what felt like hours. A car backfiring broke him from his stupor and he immediatly jumped up to lock the doors.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. He mind felt numb. What did this mean? Was this for real? Of course it was. No one who knew that address would pull a stunt like that. Only family, work, and the closest of his friends had that address. Did someone from work accidently let it slip? Oh God I have a stalker.

He called his agent.

She was there twenty minutes later to comfort him before she started calling people like crazy, trying to get to the bottom of it.

An hour later she hung up her phone.

"Kurt, no one knows how he got the address," she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was feeling a lot older than her fifty years right about now. "I think it's important that we take this as serious as possible."

"What do you mean?" He asked, looking up from the couch. Amanda Sterling had been with him since his first big part and he trusted her with everything.

"I mean I think it's about time you got a body guard, ah! Don't you say anything, we should have done this years ago," she cut him off before he could protest. Sure Kurt had hired security before, for whenever he knew there was going to be a lot of paparazzi and fans around, but the idea of a personal body guard always sat wrong with him. Someone following you wherever you went? Watching your every move? No thank you.

But he glanced at his laptop and gulped. Who knows how close Mr. 152 was to him. If someone was going to be watching him all day better it be hired muscle than a crazed fan.

He hung his head.

"Okay, get the word out."

Kurt stayed at Rachel's that night and it was only after some Judy Garland and a couple of shots that he managed to get any sleep.

He felt like the seventh layer of hell as he drug himself into Amanda's office to meet the man she hired to protect him.

But they'd have to create a whole new layer of hell to describe what he felt when he laid eyes on said muscles.

"Kurt! Come in. I'd like you to meet David Karofsky."

Shit.

So that ends chapter one! Be honest, how completely shit was that? Should I continue or just cry alone in a corner? I actually have this kinda planned out, which is rare for me, so hopefully it'll get better...