A/N: Hello! My name is Lexi and my passions remain in Glee and writing; they can be quite lovely together. I don't have much of a life, but the shred of life I do possess is spent reading Klaine fanfictions and writing. I ship Klaine, if you haven't noticed, Brittana, Finchel and Samcedes. :) I'd love to hear about some of your ideas or about spectacular Glee fanfictions you've read.

This is a story spawned to allow my brain to leak it's extremely Klainey ideas. They're random, fluffy, cheesy, and hopefully worth it. This chapter is a bit...futuristic and angsty. Kurt and Blaine have broken up *depressed sniffle*, and it is now after high school and college.

Chapter Rating: Teen for language

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.


Job Interviews:

His lips reminded him of a rose. Pale pink, constantly pursed to match his inquisitive personality. The way they tasted on his own was unexplainable. They had so much meaning; so much emotion locked into them.

Blaine closed his eyes sharply. No. No, he promised himself that he would not open that door again. With a disgruntled sigh, the middle-aged man heaved himself out of bed. He sat on the edge, amidst the rumpled sheets and put his head in his hands.

Another sleepless night. The indigo bags beneath his eyes only grew larger, amplifying his ever-present five o'clock shadow. Was Blaine Anderson ready to embrace the hell each day brought on? Particularly today, in which he was subtly reminded of his job interview by the kitten calendar on the far wall. The answer was no. It was always no.

Blaine stood up and trekked into the bathroom. He splashed his face with icy water, before straightening and gazing at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were hazel, his best quality, he had been told. His form was broad, with square shoulders and thick biceps concealed by a nylon tee. Blaine's shortly cropped curly ebony stuck up in the back, which he hastily finger-combed back into place.

He was going to be late. "Damn it," Blaine hissed, his throat still raw from endless hours of silence.

Without further delay, Blaine stripped and climbed into a shower. The hot water washed away his exhaustion, rolling off his toned chest and soaking his hair. After lathering his body in sickly-sweet lavender bubbles, Blaine toweled off and dressed quickly.

He hastened downstairs and started a pot of coffee. He gathered his briefcase by the door, checking to make sure his résumé and paperwork was safely contained inside. Blaine scooped up his Blackberry and coffee and climbed into his black Sudan.

As he drove alone the paved road, he noted the distant fog that swirled it's way over the distant mountaintops. Lovely, he sourly thought. Just what I needed to complete this hell of a day.

Minutes later, Blaine pulled into the parking lot of a large factory building. The logo - VOGUE - was written in black cursive at the top of the five story brick apartment. He parked the car and stepped out, reluctantly gathering his brief case and making his way up to the front desk. The lobby smelled of roses and expensive perfume. Crystal chandeliers tinkled, attatched to the ceiling, while faint pop music filled the halls. Photographs of beautiful women were posted on the walls, beneath the shining gold of the trim. Everything practically tasted of fanciness.

Blaine awkwardly made his way up to the front desk, ignoring the glares from two women snacking on muffins at the buffet table. A woman with entirely too much makeup on stared down at the man through her pointy-rimmed glasses. Her nametag, fastened to the hem of her pink blousse, read "Shawna".

"Can I help you?" she asked through a nasally voice.

Blaine winced as he inhaled the exhilerating scent of Justin Beiber's One Love. Okay, ew. "Yes, ma'm. I'm here to see..." He tapped on the screen of his phone. "Mr. Chastity?"

"Ah, Anderson, is it?" Shawna wanted to know, scrolling down the list of names on her desktop. "He'll see you now. Level three, dear."

"Thanks," Blaine mumbled, jamming his case underneath his arm and starting toward the elevator. He couldn't risk loosing this job. He would be screwed. He needed money to pay for his house - he was a month behind payment and the landlord was close to kicking him out.

Blaine heart pounded painfully against his ribs like a caged bird. He needed this so bad. The elevator doors opened with a ding! and he stepped out. He stalked along the halls, stopping occasionally to read the platinum tags on the doors. At last, the middle-aged man found the door marked 'Chastity'.

He knocked before stepping in. Before him, the room was decorated with the stylish genre of the twenty-first century. Crimson walls, a marble fireplace, bear fur carpet and an oak desk. Seated at the oak desk was a man that nearly made Blaine pass out.

He had windswept light brown hair, startling green eyes that Blaine had fallen so hard for, and a confused expression. "Blaine?" he gasped out.

"Kurt?" Blaine shot right back. "You work here?" Kurt's gorgeous porcelain skin turned a bright red. "Um, yes. President, actually. Sit?"

Kurt nervously fumbled with a manilla packet, murmuring to himself, "Oh, my God. I knew it said Anderson, but I didn't..."

The memories of their agonizing break-up; the fight, the tears, the undying love that has lasted through numerous dates at gay bars and websites. No matter how hard he tried, he could not match a man with the talent of Kurt.

"So," Blaine stammered, desperate for a topic to discuss - something to shatter the searing awkwardity. "You're married now?"

Kurt's blush grazed his perfectly polished roots. "No. Just changed my last name. Are...Are you?"

Blaine sighed. "No."

More silenced minutes. "H-How's work?"

Kurt smiled, the subject obviously something he flaunted. "Excellent. And you? How was your career of music?" "I quit," Blaine whispered. "I wanted something...more." There was no way he was going to admit that Blaine had left his treasured career on Broadway to find his lost love.

"Ah."

What are the chances that you're ever going to see him again? There's no fucking way he's going to give you the job, now, Blaine thought. Just go for it. The worst he can say is no...

"Would you-"

"Would you-" Both boys burst into laughter. "You first," Kurt said and Blaine cleared his throat.

"Um, would you like to join me for some coffee later? I mean, for old times' sake?" He could see the outcomes going over in Kurt's mind; the way his expression morphed into one of concern.

Blaine knew he had messed up. Kurt was going to tell him to get the hell out of his sight! He had screwed it up already-

"Sure," croaked Kurt, practically shining with excitement. "I'd love to."


A/N: How was it? You know what they say - "Every review is like a million dollars"...Except, not really. Anyways, expect an update in the near future. Thank you so much for your time!

Love,

Lexi