Title: On the Twenty-First
by: kaiyrah
Characters/Pairs: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~5000
Spoilers/Warnings: Drama/angst. Some spoilers for 2x15 Sexy. POV switches (slightly more Kurt). Future!fic. ...Elevator!fic?
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Years after their relationship ends, Kurt and Blaine meet inside an elevator in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in New York. They'll have to decide if reconciliation is in the works or not.
25th floor.
The doors slide open with a ding, and Kurt steps inside, adjusting the brim of his fedora and pushing the button for the lobby. He rolls his shoulders, trying to ease the knots in his muscles.
Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week hasn't been this exhausting since his very first show. And this isn't that different from previous shows; there's no secret extra workload, no pressure to help put together a backup design or anything like that. Maybe he just isn't well-rested...?
Could be. Any big change is reason to lose sleep. This is his last show working for Derek Lam. It's very bittersweet in a way - he started out as an intern five years ago and stayed with the company ever since. His mentors and colleagues showed him the ropes around the fashion industry - he's made some great friends. It'll be hard to leave.
Still, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited for his new job, because he's sort of been wanting this since he started wearing designer labels at age 11.
Working for Marc Jacobs is kind of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity after all.
The elevator slows to a stop. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out to read the screen just as the doors open.
21st floor.
Blaine adjusts his tie for what's probably been the tenth time in five minutes and he shakes his head to cool his nerves. He's always been more of the type to sit down with a partner to discuss marketing strategies over coffee rather than mingle at forcibly polite cocktail parties, but he really doesn't have a choice. With any luck he'll be able to win his contacts over no problem. If things really go well he might even get the chance to leave early.
The bell dings to signal the elevator's arrival, and the doors slide open.
Blaine steps forward and reaches out to press 3 and backs up against the rail as the doors close. His eyes roam the interior of the elevator - same yellowed lighting, same Asian-inspired design as the rest of the hotel. Then his gaze lands on the other occupant of the elevator, leaning against the right back corner. He's looking down at his phone, his face obscured by his gray hat, but Blaine can still make out pale skin and a strong jawline. The stranger's dressed in a navy and slate pea coat-button down combination with a pale orange tie.
It's almost like meeting Kurt Hummel all over again.
A shudder runs down his spine, and he shakes his head. What is he thinking? There's no way Kurt would be here of all places. Well, he'd heard that Kurt had started working in the fashion industry - so he's probably here in New York. But not right this minute inside the Mandarin, and definitely not in the same elevator.
No, that kind of stuff only happens in movies. This thought comforts him a little, at least until the stranger's phone rings, blasting out an old Lady Gaga song. Stranger picks it up. "Why hello, Angela. We're still meeting up for drinks, yes?"
Blaine's head snaps up at the familiar voice.
Oh, this kind of stuff only happens in movies alright. Except, you know, when it actually happens in real life.
20th floor.
"I'm assuming we're going to Disiac as usual?" Kurt asks, tugging on the lapel of his coat.
"You know it, Mama. I need to get my sangria and hummus fix!" Angela says excitedly, and Kurt laughs. He can practically hear her salivating. "I'm on my way to your hotel. I'll be outside in a few minutes, so come on down."
"Already on it. I'll see you soon," Kurt says with a smile, and he touches the screen to end the call. Oh Angela. Always the lush.
He looks up now to his left and notices the man standing in the back left corner. The man's smartly dressed in a black suit - well, at least it looks like a black suit. He's sort of huddled into his own corner, his face within kissing distance of the left wall, head tilted down, his shoulders raised.
His arms are trembling.
Is he...?
Kurt's jaw drops in disgust and he forces back a gag. Why would he do that here? He's probably staying at this hotel; can't he wait until he gets back to his room? Or he can use one of the bathrooms. But the elevator? Really?
Well. Good thing that New York has toughened him up a bit. "Wow. It's amazing how disgusting some people can be. They can jerk off anywhere, but no, they have to do it in a public setting where everyone can see."
"I'm not - " The man turns immediately, and their wide eyes meet, hazel and glasz, and it's just like that first moment on the stairwell all those years ago. An instant spark of recognition sets their locked gaze blazing, then the man quickly turns back around and grinds his forehead against the wall.
Kurt blinks multiple times. "...Blaine?"
19th floor.
Why? Why did this have to happen? Why Kurt of all people? In his younger days he might have been ecstatic about such a serendipitous meeting, but he's older now and... Fate, destiny, eternal love - it's hard to find meaning in those words anymore.
No. He can't be like this. He needs to turn around. For every second he spends facing the wall, Kurt's beliefs that Blaine still isn't over him are probably growing stronger.
Can't have any of that.
Blaine takes in a deep breath and turns, pasting a painfully polite smile on his face. "Hello, Kurt."
Kurt's arms are crossed over his chest, and he's got that signature bitchy eyebrow raise going. "What are you doing here?"
"I have a couple business meetings over the next few days. I'm actually headed to a cocktail party right now," Blaine says. A beat of silence, then, "What about you?" He resists the urge to tack on a 'Not that I care' at the end of the question.
"It's Fashion Week," Kurt says easily. "I'm going to meet up with a friend for drinks in a bit."
Ah. Fashion Week. The universe makes sense again.
Although a single question still lingers in Blaine's mind. Both in New York? Fine. Both at the Mandarin? Fine.
But why both in the same damn elevator?
18th floor.
If Kurt was religious, he would pass this off as one of God's sick jokes. Seeing as he isn't, he'll just think of this as a coincidence.
An unbelievable coincidence. A very, very cruel coincidence.
Is he the only one affected by this meeting? Here he is trying his best not to pass out - he actually has to remind himself to breathe a couple times - while Blaine Anderson just stands there coolly as if he owns the place.
It doesn't help that he looks damn sexy in that suit. Kurt's knees always go weak at the sight of a perfectly-tailored outfit, asshole ex-boyfriend or not.
Kurt's hand pats the chest of his coat. Fingers trace the small cardboard box stowed in his inside pocket, and the comfort curls around him. He can almost feel it now - the dizzying, calming feeling, the burning at the back of his throat, that bitter taste on his tongue.
Damn. Kurt's been clean for almost two weeks. Trust Blaine to fuck it up.
17th floor.
The doors slide open to reveal the figure of a thirty-something year old man in a taupe suit. The man shoots a quick smile at both Blaine and Kurt as he steps into the elevator and presses the 15 button. As soon as the doors close, he begins humming a very mangled, barely recognizable version of Me and Mrs. Jones.
The man pulls out his wallet and opens it, riffling through the receipts and few bills. Curiosity gets the better of him, and Blaine's eyes follow the man's actions. Hi's fingers stop their search when they touch a small foil wrapper nestled between receipts, and a filthy smile stretches across his face.
Blaine resists the temptation to clear his throat. Instead he averts his eyes and awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets. Hey, what other people want to do is their business; it's not his job to judge. He glances at Kurt, who apparently has also seen the contents of the man's wallet, and his face is a cross between appalled and plain uncomfortable. His arms cross around his torso, his fingertips tightly grasping the wool of his jacket.
Blaine smirks. Kurt's virginity was lost years ago (he of all people should know), but from the looks of it Kurt's still not good at dealing with other people's sex lives - talking about them or even seeing small bits of them.
Interesting how some things stay the same.
16th floor.
The man in the heinous taupe suit grins like the cat that got the cream, and Kurt scrunches up his nose in disgust.
Okay, so some people tend to be more open with their sex lives. He respects that. And in any other case he would be able to ignore it, but this is an enclosed space and he can only pay attention to the decor for so long. He can't help it if people are more interesting than their surrounding space. Normally when he sees someone for the first time, Kurt usually finds himself bombarded with questions. Where is this person from? What kind of job do they have? What is their family background? Do they like their martinis shaken or stirred? (Or are they the designated driver type? You know, whatever.)
With this stranger in particular, all he can think is how the guy is probably some weird nympho. It's not fair to think that way, he knows - but it's very difficult to change first impressions.
Kurt takes a glance at Blaine behind the man's back. To his surprise, Blaine is staring right back at him - but he has this knowing smirk on his lips. Kurt narrows his eyes at him, sending him a telepathic, 'What the hell are you staring at?'
Blaine nods his head in the man's direction and waggles his eyebrows.
Ugh, bastard.
15th floor.
Condom guy practically skips out of the elevator and the tension drops significantly. Blaine chuckles when he hears Kurt let out a breath.
"Still uncomfortable with sex, I see."
Kurt scowls at him. "Only when they advertise it."
"To be fair, he wasn't advertising it. We were just being nosy."
"He was humming Me and Mrs. Jones. Very badly, at that."
Blaine shrugs. "Maybe he just likes the song."
"Please. A guy like that listens to top 40 and tries to stay on top of young culture. There's no way he's a Billy Paul fan. Or even a Michael Buble fan. I would feel insulted if he were."
"Nice to know that you haven't lost your sass," Blaine says dryly, leaning back against the wall.
Kurt narrows his eyes at him, and Blaine shifts uncomfortably. It's a familiar look - the way he looks at a design to figure out what's wrong with it. Only this time, there's no design, and those eyes are set directly on Blaine, and Kurt's got his judgment face on. It's not that Blaine is afraid of a confrontation, really - he and Kurt got into many arguments even before they broke up - but he does have a party to attend in just a few minutes, and showing up in a shitty mood isn't the best idea.
"Do you ever stop being such a pompous jerk?"
So much for that mood.
14th floor.
"Oh, so we're name-calling now? Very mature, Kurt." Blaine's looking at him tensely, his mouth set to a thin line with a fine sheen of irritation coating his voice - and Kurt's subconscious keeps reminding him that he still manages to look hot when he's angry. He can't even bring himself to deny those thoughts; they're true after all.
Kurt's fingers twitch. Never before has he wanted to both sock Blaine in the face and fuck him senseless.
Damn, what is wrong with him?
"My deepest apologies. I was wrong," Kurt says crossly, and he turns to face the doors. This is ridiculous. Twenty-six years old and they still can't act civil when they share the same space? What are they, middle schoolers?
He's so going to need a smoke as soon as he gets outside. Angela will have to wait for that sangria.
Suddenly Blaine's approaching him - trying to corner him, and Kurt forces his eyes to stay trained forward. Blaine's long overstepped Kurt's personal space boundaries; he's within arm's length now. And Kurt's not sure if that's good or bad. "Listen, I know we ended things on a bad note, but we're both adults now. Can we just stop this already? I'm tired of it, and I'm sure you're tired of it too - tired of this."
12th floor.
The doors part to reveal a trio of young women probably in their early to mid twenties in minidresses and cage heels. "Going down?" The blonde one asks with a smile, oblivious of the growing animosity between the two men.
"Yes," Blaine answers tightly, but before the ladies can even step inside the elevator, Kurt's hand reaches out to stab the close button.
As soon as the doors shut on their scandalized faces, he rounds on Blaine, voice sharp. "You don't need to tell me that you're tired - of me, of this... this sad pathetic scrap of whatever it is that we have. You already made that perfectly clear."
For a split second Blaine sees white and it takes all of his willpower to keep from punching something. Typical Kurt. Always playing the victim. "I already told you it wasn't like that. I just figured that we both needed some space to figure out who we were, and if the relationship was going somewhere serious. Never did I once tell you that I was tired of being with you."
"Well, it sure sounded like it. Can you really blame me? I thought we were happy together and then one day out of the blue you told me that we needed to step back and really think about our relationship. Of course I thought you were tired of being with me - would else would that mean? How else could I have reacted?"
"I don't know - maybe by not overreacting like you're prone to do."
"I'm not overreacting!"
Blaine arches an eyebrow at Kurt, who just looks away and swears.
11th floor.
Why? Why is this happening? With every pass in the conversation, Blaine's making him out to look like the child in the wrong, or the offender rather than the offended. That's not too far off the mark, though Kurt hates admitting it. He likes to think that several failed relationships after Blaine have shown him a little bit more about how love works - or rather, doesn't work. He won't make the same mistakes that his 21-year-old self did. He doesn't suffer from that same abysmally low self-esteem.
Well, usually he doesn't.
But Blaine brings out both the best and worst in him, even years after they've separated. Less than five minutes in an elevator and he's managed to make Kurt feel like shit, and he's not even trying. This isn't good. This is bad, this is really really bad. Blaine's probably mocking him in his head right now.
Kurt lets out a heavy breath and sags against the wall. His hands grasp the rail to keep him from sliding down to the floor. He can't do that. He can't look so weak. "I just - I couldn't deal with it. You were my first boyfriend. Well, my first everything. I had horrible self-esteem back then, and then you came along and we were together and everything was perfect for a while. We were together for almost four years. When you said you wanted a break, I couldn't help it. I panicked."
Blaine steps closer to him, Kurt holds out a hand to stop his movements. Blaine's shoulder tenses under his fingers.
"It kills me to admit it, but I was young back then. I made some stupid mistakes and stupid decisions," Kurt shakes his head. "It probably doesn't excuse the way I acted, but that's the way it is."
10th floor.
Blaine watches as Kurt's face crumbles, and the deep-seated desire to take him in his arms surfaces more than a couple times, but he has to remind himself that he doesn't have that privilege anymore.
"And I should have tried to understand you a bit better. At the time, I thought..." Blaine left off the 'thought you were being selfish' bit and instead offered, "I guess I thought we both needed some space, but I didn't think about how that would have affected you. I thought we were both equally unsure of ourselves - I guess I was the only one with insecurities."
"Everyone has insecurities, Blaine," Kurt says in a small voice, and he takes his hand back to grasp the railing again. "But I guess some people work through them differently. Some people want to do it alone, but others want company. We were just one of those couples that go at it in different ways, I guess."
"I guess so."
An awkward silence passes. Blaine's heart thumps hard; he can barely hear the mechanical elevator sounds over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. It only gets worse when Kurt whispers something so soft, he's not sure if he's even supposed to hear it.
"Did you love me?"
9th floor.
"What kind of question is that? Of course I did." Blaine answers with a wavering laugh.
Kurt's heart sinks. Did. Past tense. Blaine didn't correct him.
Pull yourself together, Kurt. What were you expecting? For him to confess that he did love you and will always love you and there was never and will never be anyone but you? For you two to get married and live happily ever after? No. Doesn't work that way.
He forces a smile. "Good. I'm - I'm glad. I loved you too."
And still does, like an idiot. There's no other explanation for why he feels like he's been stabbed in the chest and is dying a slow painful death.
"Good," Blaine answers, nodding slowly. Kurt can't quite decipher the expression on his face. "I'm... glad, too."
They say nothing for a while, then Blaine asks hesitantly (and Kurt's not sure of the reasoning behind this inquiry), "Are you... um. Seeing someone right now?"
8th floor.
The words tumble out before he can stop them, but nevertheless, Blaine's hearing is at full attention to Kurt's answer. If he is dating someone, then Blaine will gracefully bow out without a fight. If he isn't... well, Blaine's not exactly sure what he'll do - if he can do anything, but this may be the chance to fix whatever this is between them. Kurt is the one that got away and then some.
If there's even the smallest chance that they could be together...
Is it sad that he wants to take that chance? No matter how small?
Isn't that what love is about?
"Um, I'm not. Dating anyone. Right now, anyway," Kurt answers, looking away, gingerly rubbing his forearm. "I've had a couple of relationships after you, but none of them lasted very long."
Blaine's heart skips. He almost feels guilty for being happy that Kurt's relationships didn't work out - simply because he never liked to think about Kurt and heartbreak, Kurt and sadness, and god knows Kurt's tears are like Kryptonite to him. On the other hand, that means Kurt is unattached right now. Which means...
He has a chance.
That is, if Kurt still feels the same. God, he hopes so.
"My two relationships after you didn't work out either," Blaine admits, stepping closer. He ignores the stab of hurt when Kurt steps toward the wall - away from him. "They just didn't feel right."
"Same," Kurt says quietly, his eyes nervously sweeping over Blaine's features as he draws near. "What are you - "
Blaine doesn't let him finish. His eyes flutter shut as he tilts his head up and closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Kurt's.
7th floor.
Kurt's brain melts down for a second.
Oh god, is this really happening? Blaine Anderson, ex-boyfriend and the man he's still miserably in love with, is kissing him inside an elevator. This has to be a dream. There's no way this is real. Even with Blaine's soft eyelashes sending shadows across his skin (at least before Kurt closed his eyes), and Blaine's hand tracing up Kurt's neck to hold him in place just behind his ear, and his scent and taste and it occurs to Kurt that his dreams are never this vivid so holy shit - this is real after all.
Kurt parts his lips to deepen the kiss, and it's all tongue and mouths and warmth and it's so, so good. It's all sensations pulling at him from every angle, it's colors bursting across the backs of his eyelids (no matter how cliche that is), it's an out-of-body experience.
He clings to Blaine, who holds him up with his slightly sturdier frame, and the pair stumble against the corner near the button panel. His fingers slide just under Blaine's jacket, over the white button-down and his nails scratch the small of his back, and he smiles into the kiss when Blaine shivers agreeably.
Whatever this is, a cruel joke, a test, an experiment - he'll take it. If it somehow ends up with heartbreak - which it will, because that's just the way his luck has always worked - he won't mind. This is the closest taste of happiness he's had in a long while. He'll take it, even if it's a game or a deception of some kind. He kind of hates himself for it. He's being desperate, but god if he doesn't want this.
6th floor.
The doors part just slightly before Blaine's fingers slam the close button. They open again and Blaine turns an irritated eye toward the middle-aged couple who pause mid-step just inside the elevator, shocked at the sight. He takes his hand from Kurt's waist for just a second and makes a shooing motion at them, and automatically they step back, letting the doors slide shut on their faces.
With the distraction gone now, Blaine closes his eyes and turns his attention back to Kurt and that amazing thing he's doing with his tongue and god - he misses this. He misses Kurt, he misses them being together. Kurt nibbles on his bottom lip and when he groans from the sensation - biting and soft and hard at all once and just so good.
They break apart around the same time but stay in close proximity with their foreheads pressed together, breaths sweetly mingling and their lips just barely touching. Kurt's hands are fisted at his lapels, and they're shaking, and he wants nothing more than to tell him that he's not going anywhere, but he figures that words right now are useless. He leans forward and kisses him again, softer, gentler, a hum of pleasure rising from his throat.
He pulls away and Kurt makes a little whining sound from the loss of contact and presses another kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"This shouldn't have happened," Kurt murmurs, and Blaine tenses. What the hell does that mean? Did he... Did he feel nothing just now? Was Blaine the only one putting his all into that kiss? He opens his mouth to speak.
Before he can say anything, Kurt's lips find one of the sensitive pulse points on his neck and he drops a kiss there, and Blaine fights a shiver. "I can't do this. Don't make me fall for you again."
At these words, Blaine relaxes, his fingers curling into Kurt's hair as the taller man drops his forehead down to Blaine's shoulder, and they stand bodies pressed flush to each other, their breaths echoing harshly within the walls, and it's like everything is coming to a crashing halt.
5th floor.
Kurt closes his eyes, resting his forehead on Blaine's shoulder, trying to tamp down the giddy, fluttering feelings in the pit of his stomach. His emotions run so high he fears he might be sick, but that would involve moving... and right now he's more than happy staying exactly where he is.
He's weak. When did he become such a slave to his own emotions? Just one kiss with Blaine and already he's thinking of their past - and of their future, rebuilding their relationship, finding a place together, loving each other again.
At least until he remembers that such plans won't work out. Only Blaine has the power to reduce him to a lovesick fool, and he wants to hate him for it, but he can't. He could never hate Blaine. Even when they had broken up, he didn't hate him, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. He disliked him, sure - but what person doesn't at one point dislike someone they love?
"What happens now, Kurt?" Blaine asks quietly, fingertips lightly massaging his scalp.
Kurt breathes deeply. He's asked himself the same question over and over in the past few minutes, and while he's come up with hundreds of possibilities... There's only one realistic answer.
He lifts his head and gently pushes Blaine away. "Nothing. We do nothing."
Blaine's eyes darken. "Nothing?"
"Nothing," Kurt repeats, and his heart drops like a lead weight in his chest. "This isn't going to work."
God, stop talking. It's getting more and more painful with every word, and it's getting harder to even stay in the same space. He pushes the 4 button in panic. He needs to get away. Fast.
4th floor.
The doors slide open, but as soon as Kurt crosses the threshold, Blaine's hand stretches out to circle his wrist to yank him back inside. Kurt stumbles and he swears under his breath, Blaine pushes the close button and he steps ahead, trapping Kurt against the wall as the doors close.
"What the hell, Blaine?" Kurt glares, rubbing his wrist.
"Tell me why it won't work."
He's already made up his mind - He wants to give them a shot, and if Kurt refuses, then he wants to at least hear a good reason.
If Kurt doesn't care about him like that anymore... well, that's a good reason. It'll hurt like hell, but it's a good reason.
"We're across the country, Blaine. Last I heard, you were in L.A. Long distance rarely works out. And I mean, we're different people now."
Blaine refrains from saying, 'Oh, is that all?' to avoid downplaying Kurt's fears - but that's exactly what they are. Fears, insecurities. They had them five years ago, and they still have them now. He's just glad that Kurt didn't coldly answer, 'Because I don't love you anymore.'
Instead he says softly, "So you're afraid?"
Kurt stiffens, as if Blaine had struck him, and he crosses his arms over his torso, grabbing his coat with the tips of his fingers. "Honestly? Yes. I'm terrified. We already broke up once. What if we start having troubles again? I don't know if I could handle it."
"I'm not going to lie and say that we won't run into troubles. Every couple has them," Blaine says. "But the fact that I spent five years thinking about my first boyfriend - and the fact that I broke off my two next relationships because they weren't at all like what I had with you - I think that has some weight to it. Some permanence."
3rd floor.
The elevator stops. Kurt looks past Blaine at the doors parting, and it's like all of his hopes have gone dashing out and his fears have come flooding in. "Here's your stop," he says weakly.
Blaine swears and turns his body around to stick one arm out the door. He turns his eyes back to Kurt. "I'm not done with us yet. I have to go, but I still want to have a proper discussion about this later on."
"There's nothing to discuss," Kurt says. Why is Blaine making this so hard?
"Yes there is."
It's not very convincing. This probably shows on Kurt's face, because Blaine then adds, "Look, I'm just as scared as you are. I have no idea if this will work out, but I still want to give it a shot. If you find something that you really care about, isn't it worth fighting for?"
Kurt distinctly remembers someone giving a similar speech in the New Directions choir room, although he can't remember exactly who it was. All he knows is that the determination, the sheer willpower in Blaine's voice is enough to get him to question his own resolve, and - it's even put a bit of hope into his heart, which makes him feel both tremendously giddy and frightfully nervous.
He hasn't had such hope in a long time.
Blaine's free hand searches through his pockets, and after a few moments, he drops a keycard into Kurt's hand. "Room 2163. I'm here until Tuesday. And I know you're busy with work, but please... When you're free, I want to talk."
Kurt stares into his eyes, a whirlpool of emotions, of love and grief and loneliness and hope and a cocktail of other things that he can't identify. He's sure that his own gaze looks the same way. And silently, he must have agreed to the proposition, because now Blaine's stepping out of the elevator, and the doors are closing, and the last thing he sees before the doors shut, oddly enough, is the left plane of his body - where Blaine's heart is.
Ground level.
The keycard stares up at him in challenge.
Are you brave enough?
He sighs, pockets the card, and sends a quick text to Angela.
Sorry, I can't make it. Met Blaine in the elevator.
It only takes a few seconds before his phone buzzes with a response in his inbox.
So what are you still doing texting me? Talk to him! Go!
Kurt takes a deep breath as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. Blaine will probably be at the party for a few hours. Well, at least that'll give Kurt some time to think about what he wants to say. His heart's still pounding from their meeting. He's scared, so much more scared than he's ever been, but he also feels lightheaded in not an entirely bad way.
Damn. That fluttery, light feeling in his chest won't stop. He shakes his head with a wry smile and presses the button for the 21st floor.
Notes: Lol okay so IDK what this ended up being. It was just supposed to be gratuitous elevator makeout fic, but then stuff like ~feelings somehow wriggled into the writing, so I ended up with this instead. Before you ask, no promises for a sequel just yet, but I'm definitely thinking about it.