CHAPTER ONE

Friday, 10:37 pm

And of course the elevator wasn't working yet. Of course not.

Longest. Week. Ever.

Like. EVER. Moving was a bitch and Kurt swore he'd never do it again. Why in God's name he thought he'd be able to pull off a move while this project was going on he'd never know. But it was Friday night, he'd been in the apartment since the previous Sunday morning, and he finally had a night to sleep and a morning where the alarm wouldn't go off. Sweet, splendid sleep.

Almost as a testament to how tired and out of it he was, Kurt dragged his $350 leather bag across the threshold after finally fiddling enough with the lock on the damn door that it opened. He'd have to talk to the landlord about that…tomorrow. Not tonight. Tonight was for sleeping. Tomorrow was soon enough. Late tomorrow…when he finally woke up. Maybe even Sunday. Sunday sounded good, too.

He slung his bag onto the couch and plopped down beside it, leaning back briefly, knowing very well that if he so much as paused during a blink for too long he'd fall asleep in his clothing on the couch. That just wouldn't do. With a deep sigh, he sat up, opened the bag of food still in his hand, and laid it all out on the coffee table in front of him. Burrito, chips, salsa, guacamole. Eat. Change into something comfortable. Sleep. For days maybe? It sounded good. His project was finished after 4 months of overtime, every night, sometimes on the weekends. He'd done it. The photos were being edited, the boxes were packed and shipped, his part was done and he could finally relax. Finally. Holy shit, he was tired as hell.

He surveyed the room as he chewed slowly, barely enough energy for even that much effort, and saw all the boxes still laying around that he'd been picking through to survive the week. Something would have to be done about that as well. But that wouldn't happen tonight. No, not tonight. The only thing happening to night was sleep. Period. End of story. And that ass-hat upstairs better keep it down.

Arms barely able to move, Kurt gave up on eating, rolled the foil back around his burrito and slipped it back into the bag. Tomorrow. He'd finish it tomorrow. Sorry Chipotle, but sleep is more important right now.

1:03 am

The rattle of the fire escape woke Kurt from a sound sleep and he let out a string of expletives to rival any sailor ever born. What the actual hell was going on? He removed the soft, foam earplugs from his ears and sat up groggily, staring at the ceiling and wishing he could see through it. He didn't know who lived above him, but he hated them. Hated. It was a strong word, but it applied. The guy was a loud ass drunk who tended to come home at all hours, totally lit, and then yell at someone else, or multiple someone's, when they weren't partying hard enough. Two nights during the week, already, there'd been a party going on until all hours of the morning…on week nights! Savages…

Then Kurt heard a clinking sound and realized it wasn't the fire escape which had woken him, it was the clinking sound. Glancing around, his eyes landed on the window in the bedroom and he saw him. Crouching down, so far that he looked like a child, was a boy…a man…someone with a mop of dark, curly hair. He was looking at Kurt through the window, an apologetic look on his face which was mostly hidden in the dark. What the hell….

Kurt sat up quickly, glanced down to make sure he'd pulled some flannel pants on before falling into bed, and strode to the window with murder on his mind. He quickly raised the window and days of frustration poured out as soon as his lips parted.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know what time it is? Why the ever loving HELL are you on my fire escape and tapping on my window at this time of night? Hmmm? Don't just sit there looking like a kicked puppy, answer me. I'm tired, I've worked my freaking ASS OFF for months on a God damned project that's finally finished and all I wanted to do was come home and sleep tonight. Is that too much to ask for? Is it? I suppose it is, because whoever lives above me, and that includes you by proxy, I assume, whoever it is has to make enough noise to raise the damn dead. I've had to resort to ear plugs. Do you SEE these?" Kurt grumbled, holding out the foam plugs. "Yes, I blame you. It has to be you. I'm on the third floor, you're on the fourth floor aren't you? You have to be, because the fire escape is only on three and four. What the hell? Say something!" Kurt bellowed. The poor boy…man…just stared, mouth agape. He wasn't sure what to say, if anything, and moving…well, right now moving from his crouching spot wasn't an option.

"I'm…..sorry?" He finally squeaked, the sound coming out as barely a whisper, actually, and Kurt was momentarily flustered. He was expecting something sassy, something bitchy…

"You're sorry. Well awesome. I'm sorry, too. Sorry I moved into this building with people who don't sleep or respect their fellow tenants. No wonder the rent was so affordable. This is asinine. What ARE you doing on the fire escape?"

"I…um…I was in the shower and they thought it would be funny to uh…because he has company, and…I don't really like being there when those people are around, they're rather…intimidating, actually, and they're all drunk or high or something and I guess they have some crazy, sick sense of humor because uh…they threw my um…" the boy spluttered, unable to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Spit it out, Curly, I haven't got all night," Kurt said, no hint of sympathy in his eyes at all.

"My clothes. They threw my clothes out the window and locked me in the bedroom…I climbed out to grab what I could and the window latched and then the wind—" He paused, seeing Kurt's look of utter disinterest. "I'll just climb back up and wait for him to unlock the window. Eventually he'll remember I'm in the room…and now locked out here. I'm sorry I woke you…" the boy said, leaving the last word hanging, clearly expecting Kurt to give his name.

"Kurt. I'm Kurt. Are you telling me they locked you out on the fire escape…without your clothing?"

The boy didn't answer right away, clearly embarrassed, then nodded his head as he bit his lip.

" 'm sorry to have bothered you. I just thought if I could come through and maybe get up to the door, I could sneak in while he wasn't paying attention or when he passed out and get to my room and….I'll go. I can see you're tired. I'm sorry." The boy cast his eyes down, clearly embarrassed, and Kurt let his shoulders fall on a deep sigh.

"Come on. Come on in. Do what you need to do. It's windy out tonight and with this damn drizzle I don't want your death on my conscience."

The boy's eyes lit up and his grin was infectious.

"Seriously? You'll let me come through? Oh em gee, thanks, man. I can't tell you—" he began, then paused when he realized if he stood up to climb in, his junk would be right in Kurt's face.

"You can't tell me what?" Kurt asked, eyebrows raised.

"Um…ok, so I know this is weird and all that, but…do you think maybe you could um…do you maybe have a towel or a sheet or something I can…um…use? Borrow?"

Kurt glanced down, following the boy's glance and saw a pair of bright pink boxer briefs hanging precariously from the street lamp below them. He resisted the urge to laugh only because he was so tired he was afraid even that little bit of energy expenditure would send him toppling to the ground.

With a sigh, Kurt turned, grabbed a towel off the handle of his bathroom door and then strode back over to the boy and handed it to him.

"Thanks, man, you're a life saver, I swear. I really owe you one, ok? I mean if there's ever anything I can do to repay you…"

"Hmmm, how about you come in here, use the door and ask your friends up there to keep it down to a low roar, hmm?" Kurt asked, eyebrows high enough on his head to look humorous. When the guy began to move around, Kurt had the decency to avert his eyes until he wrapped the towel around him.

"Oh, yeah, I'll uh…I don't think they'll listen to me, much, if at all, but I'll uh…ok," he said, looking a little…was he frightened? Kurt tried to see his face clearly, but the room was dark and the kid had turned his face away, looking down at the floor again. "Please um…Kurt…please don't call the cops. If he gets kicked out…" he paused, then must have thought better of it and fiddled with the towel in his hands.

"I wasn't going to call the cops. Should I call the cops?" Kurt asked then, unsure why that had even come up. Wait, what?

The boy blushed and adjusted the towel tightly around himself again before climbing in the window and pausing. "What?" Kurt asked when he stopped and just stood still in the bedroom.

"Uh…I don't just wanna walk through your apartment uninvited," he said bashfully.

"Oh, yeah…ok." Kurt turned and led him through the dark apartment, suddenly wishing he'd left a lamp on or something so he could get a better look at this boy…well, man…he could clearly see that now. He was a young man, though, maybe Kurt's own age or younger.

"Ok, um…Kurt, thanks again!" The guy said as he stepped out the front door of Kurt's apartment.

"Oh! Hey, do you have a name? You know, in case I happen to see you in the hallways or something?" Kurt asked, a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he checked out the guy's body when he turned back. Here in the hallway, with the light actually illuminating him, the guy wasn't half bad. Hmmm…nice. Broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist and not too much hair on his chest. His ass though…oh my God, his ass under that towel. Fantastic.

"I'm Blaine," the guy smiled, then turned to head through the door and up the stairs at the end of the hallway, offering a quick wave as he disappeared to sprint up the steps.

Just then, Kurt heard a loud crash from above and booming, angry voices. Was Blaine headed into that fray? That scared looking boy he'd just sent down the hallway in only a towel? Those were the people who'd locked him out on the fire escape in the wind and rain and Kurt sent him back up to that?

Without a second thought, Kurt turned to his door and nearly ripped it open, sprinting down the hall toward the door to the stairwell. Throwing the door open he glanced up the steps to see if he could see Blaine, but he was nowhere in sight. At the top of the dark stairs the door to the next floor opened and the yelling got louder as if they'd spilled out of the apartment and into the hallway…and clearly almost into the stairwell. Where was Blaine?

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he saw, tucked behind the stairs, the bright blue towel he'd given to Blaine just minutes before.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered, not wanting anyone above him to hear him. Blaine stuck his head around the steel stairs, eyes wide and clearly scared, and shook his head madly at Kurt, glancing up at the voices getting louder and louder above them. He mouthed the words "Go away! Quickly!" to Kurt and waved his hand at him frantically.

"Not without you," Kurt whispered, not even knowing if the boy heard him, then strode over, grabbed Blaine's arm and made a run down the hall when the footsteps on the stairs began to descend. Just as Kurt's door closed, he heard the stairwell door slam open and he breathed a sigh of relief. They were in Kurt's apartment. They were safe.

"You didn't have to do that, you know?" Blaine said softly, still clutching the towel.

"What the hell goes on up there?"

"It's better if you don't know," Blaine said quietly.

"Are you involved in something illegal, Blaine?"

"Me? Oh my God, no. I don't…no. I'm not. I can't speak for the rest of them, though. That's why he's mad…why he locked me out. I won't…I'm not like them. His girlfriend is a friend of mine…he's letting me stay there. My roommate, Jeff, wasn't paying our rent, despite the fact that I was paying my half to him, and we got kicked out. I had nowhere to go and Matt's letting me stay up there. As soon as I save enough I'm gonna move out, but for now…" Blaine trailed off, unable to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Blaine, I don't know a whole lot about this building yet, but I do know that it doesn't sound safe for you to be there tonight."

"Well, for now it's all I've got. Everything I own is in that bedroom upstairs. All of my other stuff was gone when I got back to my old apartment and found the door slammed in my face and the lock changed. It is what it is for now."

"No….for now you'll put these on…" Kurt said, striding into his room and grabbing an old pair of yoga pants from his drawer. "And then you'll sleep here. I can't, in good conscience, send you back up there tonight. I'm assuming he's better when he's sobered up?"

"Yeah…he's….yeah. I mean, I guess. Why are you doing this?" Blaine asked.

"Because I'm so tired I could sleep for a year, and if I send you back up there I'll worry all night and I won't sleep a wink."

"I could rob you blind the minute you close your eyes."

"I like to think I'm a better judge of character than that. But the truth is, at this point, I'm so God damned tired I wouldn't even care. All I want to do is sleep right now. I'm sorry I don't have a bed to offer you yet…I mean, I have it, it's just in pieces in the other room. I haven't had time to unpack and set things to rights, you know? First week here and all that." Kurt strode into the spare bedroom and rifled through a box, grabbing two flat sheets before tossing them to Blaine. "If you feel the need to rob me blind, then go for it. Otherwise, there's a blanket on the back of the sofa if you need it. I'll see you in the morning, Blaine."

With that, Kurt turned on his heel and walked away. Blaine spread a sheet out, flopped down on the sofa and grabbed the crocheted afghan hanging on the back of it and wriggled around until he was comfy, then covered up. This beat the hell out of the pile of old clothes and blankets he'd been sleeping on for the last month.

"Your apartment and everything in it is safe tonight, Kurt," he said quietly. "Except for whatever is in this bag…" He added, sitting up and digging in to Kurt's leftovers that still sat on the coffee table. "Hell yeah, Chipotle, and it's still almost warm." Blaine grinned and dug in. He hadn't eaten all day and he wasn't picky.

Kurt woke to the sun hitting him smack dab in the face and he squinted, nearly blind, trying to see the clock. What the holy hell? Seriously? He'd slept until 3:30 in the afternoon. He'd never done that in his life. Ever. Rolling over onto his back he stretched, hearing his body crack and pop. His belly did a low rumble and he was instantly aware of how hungry he was. Had he put that Chipotle back in the fridge last night? It would have to do…not much else to choose from in the apartment.

With a sigh, Kurt swung his legs out of bed and put his feet on the floor, expecting to hit the cold hardwood and momentarily surprised to find the throw rug there that he didn't recall unpacking. That was odd, but not nearly as important as getting to the bathroom and then finding food. He staggered into the bathroom, saw that the dark circles under his eyes had faded some. Thank you, God, for good sleep. After peeing, showering and brushing his teeth he decided to forego shaving for the moment and just rubbed some product through his hair to tame it a bit. Feeling marginally better, Kurt strode into the living room and on into the kitchen. Somewhere, in one of these boxes, there had to be a coffee maker. He was certain of it…and counting on it. But there was a problem…a very obvious problem. The boxes were gone.

What the hell? Where were—

"Oh no. NO no no no no…no!" Kurt grumbled, glancing at the empty couch where Blaine had flopped the night before but was nowhere to be seen at the moment. The sheets were nicely folded and stacked at the end of the sofa and the blanket was hung over the back of the sofa as well. Had Blaine... His thought process was interrupted by the fact that he spotted quite a few cardboard boxes flattened and stacked neatly up against the brick wall near the front door. Two full boxes sat in front of them, effectively holding the flattened ones hostage between them and the wall. Kurt cocked his head sideways and looked around the apartment. What in the world?

At first glance he wasn't even sure what to make of things. He'd staggered out of his bedroom barely paying attention to where he was going, but now that he was wide awake and paying attention it was obvious what had happened. Grinning, he began opening cabinets and smiling even wider. Blaine. It could only have been him. Blaine had unpacked his boxes, obviously wiped down the inside of the cabinets and placed all of his things inside. What Kurt found even odder was that Blaine had put the plates right where Kurt would have put them…same with the glasses, the silverware and the pots and pans. And there, with pride of place, was his super expensive coffee maker sitting on the counter just waiting for him…with a line of bright pink post it notes stuck to it.

Kurt,

Thank you so much for allowing me to stay last night. Things upstairs were a little awkward, to say the least, and you kept me from a night of sleeping up against my bedroom door to keep people out. I'm sorry I woke you, though, and I hope you can forgive me for that.

I tried to help you settle in a little. I noticed you moving in over the weekend and clearly you haven't had much time to unpack. I hope I did ok. I kinda put things where I thought they might go.

Thanks again, Kurt. You're a life saver!

Blaine

PS – I'll bring the towel and your pants back as soon as I have time to do laundry.

Kurt stared around the apartment with a grin bordering on a smirk and shook his head in amusement. His books were unpacked and on the bookshelf which, previously, hadn't even been assembled. His desk was against the far wall, the same wall the door was on, and the boxes labeled "office" were sitting next to it or on top of it. Every kitchen box was emptied and the contents were either in a drawer or cabinet. One cabinet was clearly empty except for a bag of coffee grounds, a box of tea bags and a few cans he'd brought in the move.

Turning around, Kurt found all of his magnets on the refrigerator and under one was a $10 bill with another pink post it which read: I ate your Chipotle. Sorry, man. I was starving. It was signed with a "B" and a smiley face which made Kurt bark out a laugh. Clearly Blaine had gone back upstairs and then let himself back in Kurt's apartment to leave it there. He wasn't exactly carrying his wallet last night on the fire escape.

Curiosity got the better of him and he walked into the second bedroom to see if anything had been moved. Surely Blaine wouldn't have had time to—

Kurt's mouth gaped open, eyes wide and head shaking side to side in disbelief. Not only had Blaine put the furniture together, he'd put the mattresses on the bed, sheets on the mattresses and the duvet as well. The lamp was placed on the nightstand next to the bed and all of Kurt's garment bags and boxes labeled "winter" were either hung in the closet or sitting in a neat stack by the closet door. The print he'd bought and framed for this room hung over the bed, just where he'd planned to put it.

Blaine….what in the world?! Kurt smiled in disbelief and pulled the door closed. Walking out into the living room again he spied another pink post it on the few unpacked boxes near the door.

These look like personal items. I don't want to mess with that. I hope I haven't overstepped, Kurt. Enjoy your day to sleep in!

Grinning at the note, Kurt rolled his eyes again and huffed. Well, clearly he wasn't having his leftovers for breakfast, so he'd have to go out and find somewhere in the new neighborhood to eat.

Blaine hadn't slept that good in months. Kurt's couch was super comfortable and he'd slept dreamlessly for hours, only waking when the door from upstairs slammed and he woke with a start. He'd know that slam anywhere. Matt was leaving for work, which meant he could sneak back in and get some clothes and hope his things were still intact. He had to work today, both jobs, but he felt good about it, just having slept decently for the first time in forever. He'd been shoveling money away, and having his boss, Art, hold on to it for him, afraid to bring it home. Art was a cool old guy who owned a diner a couple of blocks over, and he'd hired Blaine on to do anything that needed to be done, so Blaine went in to work every day unsure what he'd be doing, but more than willing to do it. He absolutely loved working at the diner, and he loved working for Art.

He hoped Kurt wasn't too upset with him and that he might see him again in the hall or something…even just to say hello. Kurt seemed like a decent guy after he got over his irritation at being awakened in the middle of the night. Blaine guessed he couldn't blame him. Kurt had looked like a zombie when he opened the window and Blaine was momentarily frightened. But when he got inside and got a better look…wow. Kurt was attractive. Seriously…very attractive. Like, on a scale of 1 to 10 he was a 17. Wow.

With a skip in his step, Blaine pushed open the door to the diner and walked inside.

"Blaine! You are late!" Art yelled in his thick Russian accent.

"I'm on time, Art!" Blaine laughed and yelled back. "It's just now 11:30!"

"Is the same as late in my country! You put on apron and cook today. I am old man. I am tired of the eggs over easy this morning. You make those…what you call them…pineapple fritters that you make last week. Those go over well."

"I'm on it, Art," Blaine smiled, taking the apron handed to him and nearly face planting on the grill when Art "patted" him on the back. The man wasn't large or buff, but damn was he strong. Rolling his shoulders, Blaine got to work with a smile. Today was going to be a good day, he just had a feeling.

A/N Well...Hedwig scrambled any semblance of a brain I had before I went to NYC. Seriously...it was like a freaking religious experience. So. Damn. Good. I'm forever grateful for the experience and those who made it possible. All the love, ladies. I don't know what I would have done without you. You're absolutely the best!

This is what happens when I try, repeatedly, to write Crowded House and end up failing miserably. I tell myself "write a one shot...just get SOMETHING out..." and that one shot ends up being 10 chapters and an epilogue. It's complete...unedited at this point, but complete. I'll be posting often, I guess. So, anyway, thanks for your patience, I hope you're all well and happy, and I hope I can entertain you for a few minutes here and there. :)