Blaine has been crushing on assistant fashion editor Kurt Hummel since the first day he started interning at Vogue. They spent almost every lunch hour together, and he thought Kurt might feel the same way. But after he gets hired on and transferred to Kurt's department, Blaine overhears some conversation that gives him a reason to think differently.
To think that, despite all of their many heart-to-hearts, he may not know the first thing about Kurt Hummel.
"Oh my God, Kurt! She's beautiful!" Rachel coos, taking the phone from her best friend's hands to get a better look at the picture on the screen.
The picture of a gorgeous woman, if her reaction is anything to go by.
"I know, right?" Kurt swipes the screen to reveal the next few pictures. "And forward, too! She came right up to me and sat on my lap without me having to say a word."
Rachel bumps Kurt's shoulder, shooting him a sly and secretive look. Behind his computer screen, Blaine scowls. Lucky tramp, he thinks, imagining himself getting up from his chair and sitting in Kurt's lap, running his fingertips up and down the soft skin of his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. But no. Apparently, that honor is reserved for rando floozies Kurt meets when he travels for business.
Blaine switches tabs and, for a brief second, catches a glimpse of his reflection in his screen. He looks angry. He looks bitter.
He looks jealous, and that's not a good look for him.
Who is he to judge Kurt for the life he leads? If Blaine wasn't crushing on Kurt, he wouldn't care what the man did when he went out of town. If Blaine is ever lucky enough to get a chance with Kurt, he'll have to spend a lot of time making up for all of the mental slut-shaming he's done when he was really just angry at himself for being a coward.
"Why didn't you bring her home?" Rachel asks, as if that's even an acceptable question.
"Because who says she wants to get on an airplane and come all the way to the Big Apple?" Kurt takes his phone back and gazes fondly at the image on the screen. "Besides, I've got three at home as it is. Who knows if they'd get along?"
Kurt sighs.
Rachel nods in silent agreement.
Blaine's head snaps up so quickly that he gives himself a cramp. Three at home? What the-? How did Blaine not know that Kurt lived a polyamorous lifestyle? They work at Vogue, the hub of gossip here and abroad. If the vending machine at their office in Paris runs out of gummy bears, everyone hears about it! How did something like this fall under the radar? Why hasn't Isabelle run a whole feature on him? She eats, what she captions, "alternative lifestyle" stuff up!
"Nope," Kurt continues as the cramp in Blaine's neck begins to sting. "Better to let her stay where she is and make her own way in the world. Who knows? Maybe I'll go back soon and see her again."
"Yes, but in the meantime …" Rachel cozies up to Kurt with a giggle "… tell me about this trip to Milan you're taking."
Blaine tunes out momentarily while Kurt launches into his itinerary for the latest trip to Italy he'd been cleared to take, covering the battle of the big league fashion houses. It was enough to make Blaine pea green, if he wasn't already.
He doesn't begrudge Kurt his fabulous life. The man has definitely earned it, what with the hours he puts in … the life he's endured. He was bullied throughout high school (just like Blaine); moved to New York from Ohio with no college acceptance, no plans for the future (just like Blaine); started out an intern (just like Blaine); and look at him now – traveling the world, meeting famous fashion designers, writing about their passions and their inspirations. That's exactly the kind of life Blaine wants to have some day. But he'd also like a life where he meets a kind, compassionate, handsome man and falls in love; one where they enjoy simply being in each other's company - spending long nights on the couch eating ice cream and watching trash TV, cooking experimental meals together, making love till they know they're going to be late for work in the morning. That man could be a self-made millionaire or an elementary school teacher, as long as the two of them connect.
He thought he and Kurt had.
Kurt had even kissed him once – one of those continental type kisses on both cheeks, but followed by a gaze so deep Blaine felt it in his toes.
Blaine got to know Kurt from the times he goferred between floors. That's how Blaine learned the details of Kurt's life – everything from how he took his coffee to how he got into fashion. And vice versa. Some days they'd only talk in passing. Other days, they'd sit at Blaine's makeshift desk in the back corner of the office and conversate over lunch.
Those were the best lunches of Blaine's life.
Blaine hadn't sat in on too many of Kurt's conversations with his colleagues during that time. But from the second he was hired on and promoted to Kurt's department (a career leap he had hoped Kurt had something to do with), he got a front-row seat to all of the gritty gossip.
Including Kurt's numerous sexual trysts, both male and female.
That took Blaine by surprise. He was sure Kurt was 100% gay. If he identifies as bi or pan or something else in between, Blaine doesn't care.
He just wishes Kurt would give him a chance.
Blaine enjoys his new job. He enjoys finally feeling like an integral part of the Vogue machine. And one of the biggest perks of his job is seeing Kurt for eight hours straight.
But they rarely get to talk anymore.
Blaine misses the one-on-one time he spent with Kurt. Up here, amongst Kurt's entourage, they don't get too many chances to talk alone.
Blaine has started to think that Kurt had little to nothing to do with his transfer upstairs after all.
"Hey, Blaine!" Kurt says, interrupting Blaine's thoughts and helping himself to a seat on the corner of Blaine's desk. "How was your weekend?"
"Not as exciting as yours," Blaine says, trying to sound good-natured. It comes across a little less than to Blaine's ears, but not to Kurt's, who barely seems to be listening, still flipping through the photos on his phone.
"Well, traveling for work can be exciting, but to be honest, my favorite weekends are the ones I get to spend in the comfort of my own home, curled up on the sofa with a good book, a cup of coffee, a little companionship …" Kurt pauses as if he's waiting for an answer, some sort of commiseration, but Blaine doesn't know how to give it. After all, Blaine spent the weekend alone with take-out Chinese food and his guitar while Kurt wooed beautiful women in exotic locales. "Speaking of, did you want to see some pictures from my trip?"
"Oh." Blaine swallows hard. Did he want to see pictures from Kurt's trip? After hearing what Rachel had to say, probably not. But maybe … yes? If only to see what kind of person turns Kurt on. Blaine has seen photos from some of Kurt's previous trips, but he's never been privy to the photos he shows Rachel.
The ones with his lovers in them.
During the entire time they spent getting to know one another, Kurt never mentioned having one-night stands abroad or a harem of lovers at home.
Could this be a way of broaching the subject?
"Sure. That sounds like … fun."
"Great!" Kurt scrolls to the beginning and hands his phone over. Blaine takes a deep breath, readying himself for the unimaginable, the sordid … and the heartbreaking. Then dives in.
The photos Blaine flips through are pretty run-of-the-mill as far as business trip photos go – Kurt standing shoulder to shoulder with Michael Kors; Kurt in a group shot with the models from the Victoria's Secret show; Kurt modeling a suit from Alexander McQueen's new line; Kurt eating dinner with Altuzarra, Proenza Schouler, Thom Browne, and Rodarte; and so on and so on. Nothing too shocking or risqué there, if you overlook the appetizer on the table. God, that's a lot of cheese for one plate of stuffed mushrooms.
Blaine reaches the end, shaking his head at how unexceptional those pictures were. He doesn't understand. Aside from what looked like staged photos with models and group photos with colleagues, Kurt's photographs didn't have a single woman in them, not one behaving anything close to intimate.
Not at all what Blaine was expecting, unless …
"Um, forgive me for asking, Kurt, but … are these all the photos? I mean …" Blaine gulps, questioning in his own mind if this is an avenue he wants to travel. In the end, he decides yes. Better to know the truth now, full disclosure, before he gives his heart to this man any more than he already has "… it seemed like you were showing Rachel … other photos."
Kurt quirks a brow. "Oh!" He takes his phone back. "I didn't think you'd want to see them." He swipes through folders, then selects one. "You seem like more of a dog person to me."
"Oh," is all Blaine can say because that response is kind of … confusing? Was that code? A lot of the people in the office had one. So, were men dogs? Because, otherwise, how can the opposite of woman be dog?
Even without a logical explanation, that sounds sort of rude. Blaine didn't think that Kurt was that kind of person.
He's not, Blaine realizes, when Kurt hands him back the phone with the new photos displayed on the screen.
"Kurt" - Blaine swipes through the pictures – artistic, spectacularly composed pictures - with a renewed sense of confusion wrinkling his brow - "these are cats."
"I know." Kurt sighs, looking at the pictures from over Blaine's shoulder. "Aren't they precious?"
"I … yes, but I …" Blaine hands Kurt back his phone, unable to come up with a coherent sentence "… I don't understand."
"Photographing stray cats is a thing with me." Kurt opens another folder on his phone. This time, instead of handing it to Blaine, he pulls up a chair beside him so he can show him for himself. "Funny when you consider I wasn't exactly a cat person back in Ohio."
"Why is that?" Blaine takes this opportunity to pull himself closer under the guise of getting a better look. He breathes in through his nose, the scent of Kurt's cologne pleasantly subtle, the warmth of his body bleeding through Blaine's shirt sleeve where his arm rests beside his.
It's not sitting in Kurt's lap, but it's nice.
"In a place like Ohio, stray cats are a menace. They attack native birds and wildlife, get into the trash, poop in your yard. They're a nuisance in general."
"I remember." Blaine chuckles, recalling how his mom's marigolds were decimated one summer by a local tom cat who wouldn't stop spraying them.
"But city cats are different. They have an air of sophistication, a wisdom about them. They have scars. They've been through things. You can see it in their eyes." Kurt swipes through photograph after photograph of cats he's found in New York: sitting on a trashcan in the alley behind his loft, on the steps of the public library, lying brazenly beneath a table at The Four Seasons. "I've been photographing city cats ever since I moved to New York. And when I travel and I feel lonely, I roam the streets wherever I am and take pictures of them. I've found them in every city from L.A. to India. It makes me feel connected to home. That's why I have three of them." He switches to a picture of what Blaine assumes is Kurt's living room. He sees three cats lying on his sofa – a sleek, black Siamese, a fluffy Maine coon, and a straggly, orange, short-haired beast of a tabby. "Well, I don't exactly own them. They come to my fire escape and I feed them. I let them inside when it's raining out. The Siamese I know lives at the bodega down the street, and I think I might be co-opping the tabby with my neighbor."
Blaine watches the photos change as Kurt swipes them, the three cats lying around his loft as if they own it – draped over the back of the sofa, congregating in a single patch of sunlight, drinking out of bowls on the kitchen table. "That's … kind of romantic."
"That's me." Kurt shrugs. "Just a silly romantic." He swipes through the pictures a moment longer before he chooses to speak again. "That's kind of something I wanted to discuss with you." He switches off his phone and puts it in his pocket, guaranteeing that he has Blaine's complete attention.
"Oh?"
"You know, after Isabelle hired you, I had you transferred up here so I could spend a little more time with you …"
"You … you did?" Blaine asks, his heart creeping up his throat.
"Yup. But unlike a lot of the people in this department, you actually spend your time working, so that plan hasn't gone off nearly as well as I'd hoped."
"Well, at least now I can afford to pay my rent, so I do thank you for that," Blaine teases to keep the flirtatious nature of this conversation going. But Kurt nods like that statement might be changing his mind about what he's mulling over in his head, and Blaine immediately regrets saying it. But before he can backpedal, Kurt asks, "Do you think you could afford to spend a little time away from your apartment and go on a special assignment … with me?"
"What kind of assignment?" Blaine asks, trying to play it cool, recover from his flirting faux pas … none of which he accomplishes when his voice hikes up a few notes.
"Have you ever been to Milan? I don't know if you've noticed, but my itinerary is packed so tight, it squeaks."
"I … hadn't really noticed," Blaine admits, since he'd tuned Kurt out while he was discussing it. "But I can imagine."
"It would make my life a helluva lot easier if I had an assistant," Kurt explains as he inches closer. "You know, someone to juggle my appointments, manage my notes, help with my editing, join me for dinner, maybe a nightcap …"
"Are we allowed to do that?" Blaine asks, praying he and Kurt are on the same page and that he's not reading too deep into a very platonic invitation to join him on a business related venture.
"Well, there're no rules at Vogue against employees dating, as long as we're not obnoxious about it. That is … if that's something you'd like?"
Blaine chews his lower lip, all pretense of cool, calm, and collected thrown completely out the window. He can't think of a single thing he'd like more right now than a date with Kurt. "Does this mean you're going to introduce me to your cats?"
"Blaine" - Kurt puts a bold hand on his knee - "going to Milan will only be our first date. Meeting the cats is a second date activity."