AN: Welcome back readers! I considered waiting until the end of the week to post this chapter, but I had an amazing day at work and am in an overall good mood so I figured hey, why not update today instead.
There were few things in the world that Kurt Hummel hated more than Mondays. Just a few short months ago Monday had been Kurt's favorite day of the week. Mondays were infamous at NYADA, his now alma mater. Most seniors didn't have classes on Monday, or at least not until the evening, which meant every Monday afternoon the courtyard was packed with performers. Dancers, singers, instrumentalists, and everyone in between came together to put on one huge mish-mosh of a show. Tour guides often made it a point to take prospective students through the courtyard on Monday afternoons, proudly showing off what there was to look forward to at NYADA.
Yet, those joyful, carefree days of song and dance were long gone. Kurt had only been a part of the corporate side of the entertainment industry for four months, but it had already bled him dry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd performed, let along even sing in the shower. After working 10, sometimes even 12 hour days Kurt barely found himself left with the energy to make himself dinner, let alone pursue a creative outlet. It was a wonder he still had time to see his friends anymore. Finding Santana had been a blessing, though sometimes he'd consider it a curse. Having a friend in the office had made his life significantly easier – plus, Santana was outgoing and adventurous. Her ability to make Kurt find that small bit of himself that was carefree and not constantly anxious was what kept him sane.
Dancing had been a therapeutic reprieve. Kurt had finally given in to Santana's many requests that he come dancing with her one night and was surprised to find that it was one of the best nights he'd had in months. Santana ventured out to explore the city's nightlife nearly every weekend, earning herself regular status at a handful of establishments. Kurt was not a regular by any means, but he did join her every other weekend that she went out.
Kurt had always considered himself a singer – and he still did. Unfortunately, his opportunities to sing in front of anyone that wasn't his reflection had dried up rather quickly, and he was most definitely not the type to go to karaoke alone. But he'd always considered himself a passable dancer, and if going out with Santana meant he got free drinks and at least two hours to express himself, so be it, he was in.
When Kurt was rudely awakened by the blaring sound of his alarm Monday morning he quickly realized things were very off from his usual routine. His throat was dry, as though he'd swallowed a fistful of cotton, his skin was dry and flaking at the edges (he'd later berate himself for forgetting his nightly skincare routine), and there was a naked boy wrapped around his own nearly nude body. Kurt jumped, his mind reeling to put together the previous nights' events.
Blaine, the boy who had made Kurt feel special – like he could hang the moon and no one else would ever matter. A man hadn't made Kurt feel that way in years, perhaps even ever, he thought as he recollected his brief, previous romances. It was an enormous perk that sex with Blaine had been chart topping and far exceeded his expectations. Kurt wasn't big on one night stands, though he'd engaged in his fair share throughout his NYADA days. He'd always found them a bit awkward – hotter in theory than in practice. Most of his hookups were all talk and no action, failing to deliver on the confidence they'd exuded when they'd wooed Kurt in the first place. But Blaine had delivered in all respects. He was charming, confident, and managed to flatter Kurt in a way that didn't make him wonder if it was all from a script that was just well rehearsed.
Blaine didn't stir from his peaceful slumber, Kurt marveling at how he could have possibly slept through Kurt's obnoxiously shrill 6:30 am alarm. Blaine snuffled, wrinkling his nose slightly but not stirring completely. Kurt carefully attempted to slide out from underneath the arm Blaine had lazily draped across his waist without waking the other boy. He'd nearly succeeded when suddenly Blaine adjusted his grip, pulling Kurt in against his chest. Kurt laughed quietly as the other boy buried his face into the nape of Kurt's neck.
"I have to go to work," Kurt whispered, not entirely sure whether Blaine was fully awake or not.
"M'no. Stay forever," he mumbled into the warm skin of Kurt's neck, barely awake.
Kurt smiled, gently pulling himself out of Blaine's grip. "You're cute," he whispered, placing a soft kiss to Blaine's temple before he stood up, Blaine humming in acknowledgement before falling back asleep.
Despite how little sleep he'd gotten that night, Kurt was surprisingly well rested. His stiff muscles instantly relaxed under the warm spray of the shower, and he'd actually managed to salvage his dry, flaky skin with an intensified version of his usual morning skincare routine. He sat on the couch with his morning cup of coffee, aimlessly scrolling through his phone as he savored the last few minutes he had before he'd have to head out for work.
Blaine, it turns out, was quite vocal in his sleep. He didn't say words per se, but would often let out a series of strange noises while he tossed and turned. Kurt smiled as Blaine let out an annoyed grumble before turning over, pulling the sheets roughly with him. Kurt grabbed the notepad on the coffee table beside him, scribbling down a message for Blaine and leaving it atop his phone on the nightstand.
Begrudgingly, Kurt made his way into the office, dread slowly creeping back to the forefront of his mind as he checked his emails on the subway ride downtown. Being Sue Sylvester's personal assistant had once sounded like the opportunity of a lifetime, and in some ways it was. Kurt had never been to a Broadway Opening Night, or their notorious after parties, before he started working for Sue. Now he was at a point that he found the openings a bit tedious, if he was being honest. He should've capitalized on the chance to network and rub elbows with Broadway's leading players, but usually he and Santana stuck around the bar and waited until Sue demanded that it was time to leave - always at 12:45 pm sharp.
What was more defining of Kurt's experience as Sue's assistant was his transformation from youthful college graduate with hopes of making it to Broadway to the shell of what a functioning person could be. Alright, perhaps he was being dramatic, but Sue really had run Kurt's life, both personal and professional, to the ground.
During his first week Sue had made it very clear that his name would be besmirched if he ever tried to find another job before Sue decided she was done with him. His name would be blacklisted at every theatre production company he could find.
"It would be easier to convert the Pope to Satanism than try to establish an acting career after you've crossed me," she'd warned so sternly Kurt's entire body had chilled by five degrees.
The threats had continued on with full force over the following months. Eventually he'd progressed to having projectiles thrown at him on a daily basis. It had started with a water bottle and more recently he'd only narrowly avoided being smacked by Sue's desk lamp, flying through the air and landing just inches from his desk.
Many of Kurt's early work days had ended with him calling his father, Burt, in tears, begging him for advice and shouting when it wasn't what he wanted to hear. For many weeks his job had put a strain on his relationship with Burt, one of the few people he felt comfortable being honest and open with. It was then that Kurt realized he'd allowed his job to impact his life outside of the office. He'd instantly called to tearfully apologize to Burt, promising that he would try to have a better attitude and that he was grateful to have been given such an amazing opportunity directly out of college.
In truth, Kurt's attitude hadn't improved much, he'd just stopped complaining to his dad as much. Thankfully Santana had joined Sue Sylvester Productions just a month after he did. It took a few weeks for the two to warm up to each other – Santana had a lot of bite to her, especially in unfamiliar environments. It wasn't until Sue had called her Jugs the Clown for messing up her morning coffee order that Santana had come storming to Kurt's desk.
"Come with me to get coffee, or else I might choke that crazy bitch out," she demanded, slamming her hands down on Kurt's desk.
A beautiful friendship was born that day. Having an outlet to complain to without the risk of shame had significantly improved both Kurt and Santana's lives, not to mention cutting their sanity some slack. The two kept each other grounded during Sue's tantrums, though Kurt took the brunt of them. Santana was technically Will Schuester, Sue's second in command's, assistant, but he was out of the office on most days. Most likely because he couldn't handle Sue in person, so he kept his distance to ensure he could do his job efficiently. It was admirable, in Kurt's opinion.
When Kurt walked in that Monday morning Santana pounced on him the moment he walked off the elevator, not even waiting to accost him at his desk.
"Alright, spill. What went down with you and Freddie Mercury last night?" she practically purred, tapping her fingernails against her coffee mug.
Kurt blushed, pushing past Santana to make his way to his desk. "Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing about your unicorn friend?" he retaliated, turning to her with a smirk.
Santana gave him a wicked look, sighing as she took a seat on the edge of Kurt's desk. "We got our sweet lady kisses on, but she was more of a good girl than I thought so that was the end of it. Don't try to divert, we both know you have the juicier story," she insisted, slamming down her coffee cup on Kurt's desk.
"Are you trying to get me fired?!" Kurt scolded as her coffee splashed onto one of the papers on his desk, an invoice he still needed Sue to sign.
"Calm down, lady lips. I'm just going through a dry spell right now and want to live vicariously through you."
Kurt gave her a look. "And why would you be interested in hearing about my romantic escapades with men ?"
Santana shrugged. "The dry spell is getting to me. Besides, I've been with dudes before – it could be worse."
Kurt chose to ignore Santana instead of entertaining her prying questions. He gathered together the stack of papers he needed to get signed by Sue before that afternoon, bypassing Santana as he made his way over to Sue's office. Santana snuck up behind him, tugging his well placed scarf aside to reveal the row of harsh, purple bruises lining the column of his neck.
"My my, Kurt Hummel, aren't we scandalous?" Santana jeered, tugging on the scarf until it brought Kurt back to her.
"You really are trying to get me fired," Kurt snapped, yanking his scarf back and carefully adjusting it back over the marks.
"What? Sue can't fire you for having a social life."
"Of course she can. Where have you been the past 3 months?" Kurt scolded, turning on his heel and walking into Sue's office.
Sue was standing before the large window behind her desk, looking down on Manhattan with a sneer.
"Do you know what I hate more than tourists, Porcelain?" Kurt frowned at Sue's latest nickname for him. It had been a significant improvement from Tickle Me Doughface, but he was still hoping she'd come around to using his actual name.
"I-I don't know," he stammered, setting the stack of forms down on the edge of her desk, backing away slowly and desperately hoping that this was a rhetorical question. Not knowing the answer to one of Sue's questions was far more terrifying than not knowing an answer on any test Kurt had ever taken.
"Incompetence. It just so happens I decided to live in a city that breeds both tourists and incompetence. I've done this to myself," she muttered, gesturing towards the stress ball she had in a vice grip in her left hand. Sue went through more stress balls than Kurt could count. Investing in a box of 200 of them had been the wisest decision Kurt had made since he started.
Kurt wasn't sure how to respond to Sue's statement, but he had a strong feeling this was just the warm up for one of her usual berating monologues.
"When I say that I want my tea scalding hot, how hot do you think it should be when it's served?" Sue continued, taking a seat at her desk, finally looking up at Kurt with a truly terrifying glare.
"... Scalding?" Kurt answered nervously.
"Scalding, yes. Then why, Porcelain, would you serve me my afternoon tea at anything less than scalding?" Sue was referencing her usual 4pm ginger tea. Why she was bringing this up hours later was a mystery to Kurt, but not totally unexpected. She had an elephant's memory when it came to mistakes.
"I-I'm sorry, Ms. Sylvester. I must've misjudged," he apologized. It was pointless, but the least he could do, the berating would go on regardless.
"You did, which absolutely astounds me. How can you not tell scalding tea from room temperature ?!" Sue spat, standing up suddenly, startling Kurt back. "Now if my tea isn't scalding hot every time it's served from now on I'm going to sign you up for a scalding hot enema so you can learn what the difference is!" Sue yelled before lobbing the stress ball in her hand at Kurt.
Kurt narrowly dodged the stress ball as he immediately ran out of Sue's office, the ball thumping loudly against the door as he slammed it shut. Sue throwing an object typically signaled the end of a conversation. He waited a beat, pressing his ear to the door to make sure she wasn't going to call him back in for more threats. Thankfully, the worst was over.
Sue's threats were nothing more than just threats, or at least as far as he knew. It felt as though he was learning new things about her every day, and perhaps his next lesson would be that she actually felt strongly enough about the temperature of her tea that she would send him off to get a 'scalding hot enema.'
"Harsh," Santana called to Kurt from her own desk, having overheard the entire conversation.
He rolled his eyes instead of replying, slumping into his chair and taking several deep breaths to calm himself. He checked his phone for the time – he'd barely been at the office for 30 minutes. He quickly scanned his phone screen, frowning at the lack of new text messages. He'd left his number behind for Blaine and had thought he'd made it clear that he wanted the other boy to text him or call him or do anything to keep in contact with him. Then again, it was still early, he could still be in bed or maybe he had to rush off to get to work in time, Kurt reasoned. He did his best to quash down the sinking feeling in his stomach as he powered on his computer, blaming it on Sue's lecture and definitely not on his totally nonexistent nerves about Blaine texting him.
The day was mostly uneventful despite the rocky start that morning. He finally switched off his computer for the night at around 6pm, an unusually early end to the night for him. He typically stayed in the office until 8 or 9, but Sue had a dinner meeting that evening, which gave Kurt a free pass to head home as soon as she left.
There had been no text messages from Blaine – or calls, or Facebook friend requests, or Instagram follows for that matter. Kurt did his best to be reasonable about the situation. Perhaps Blaine worked evenings and wouldn't be able to reach out until tomorrow morning. Or maybe his phone had died at some point during the day and he still needed to go home and charge it. Or maybe he has after work plans and doesn't want to be rude so he'll have to wait until he's home to text. Or… Kurt stopped himself. He was going to drive himself insane if he kept thinking that way.
It was unusual that he cared so much about whether or not he saw Blaine again. In the past he'd been fine with one night stands remaining that way – in fact he even preferred never having to speak to them again. But there was something about Blaine that had left him craving more. At this point in Kurt's life he felt as though he was constantly searching for something – happiness, fulfillment, love, he wasn't sure. But during those few hours with Blaine, Kurt suddenly felt as though he'd found what he had been searching for.
Kurt made himself dinner, caught up on some mindless TV, and chatted briefly with his dad about the going-ons at his tire shop back in Ohio. He pretended he wasn't checking his phone for messages more often than usual. By the time he headed to bed at 10, deciding to call it an early night, he had completely drained his phone's battery from opening it up every 5-10 minutes. The sinking feeling in his stomach hadn't gone away, but he would try to pretend that it had.
By the next morning the glow from his wonderful weekend had faded away. Kurt was back to his bitter, somber self. There were still no messages from Blaine the following morning, and when Kurt told himself he didn't care he actually started to believe it. It was a step in the right direction – he had no time for dating or complicated relationships and Blaine choosing not to reach out was probably for the best.
When Kurt stepped into the office that morning and wasn't immediately flanked by Santana, he knew something was wrong. Santana wasn't at her desk, but he did spot Emma, the HR Coordinator, frantically shuffling around the office, carrying a stack of folders that nearly covered her face. Kurt ran up to her, taking half of the folders off her hands.
"Oh, thank you, Kurt. I guess I bit off more than I could chew," she said with a nervous, high-pitched laugh.
"What's going on today?" Kurt asked as he helped Emma carry the folders out to a folding table she'd set up in the elevator bank.
"The fall interns are starting today. I thought we'd finalized all of the details, but Sue made some changes last night and I'm just… feeling a bit frazzled," Emma sighed.
Shit, Kurt thought to himself. He had completely forgotten that the new interns were coming in for orientation that morning. He had very little to do with the program, but Sue had insisted that this batch of interns should shadow Kurt and Santana throughout the semester, along with their typical duties.
"If we don't teach them how to be personal assistants now they'll just stumble through life, blindly taking anything they can get," she'd insisted when Kurt and Santana had expressed reluctance at the idea of having interns following them around.
"Would you and Santana mind being in the room during orientation?" Emma asked as she got herself set up at her table, snapping Kurt back into reality.
"Sure. I'll let Santana know when she gets in."
"Oh she's already here. I think she went into the kitchen."
Kurt's brow furrowed. He thanked Emma before heading to the office kitchen. As suspected, Santana was sitting at one of the chairs at the communal dining table, grinning at something on her phone. She snapped to attention when Kurt entered the room, her cheeks flushed as she quickly shoved her phone into her pocket.
"What's going on?" Kurt questioned, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, blocking her exit.
"What, I can't admire my reflection in peace?" she snapped, attempting to push past Kurt, but he quickly blocked her again.
"You like someone."
Kurt had only seen that dewy, starry eyed look on Santana's face once before. It had been during one of their first lunches together, they'd been talking about their past relationships and why things hadn't worked out. Santana had only ever had one "real" girlfriend – a fellow cheerleader from her squad at the University of Louisville. Santana never said her name or exactly why things hadn't paned out the way she'd hoped, but it was clear that she still wasn't over that first love. Santana groaned, stomping her foot before sighing dramatically.
"The girl from Sunday – Brittany. We're…" Whatever Santana said next was lost to Kurt, as she had mumbled and pushed all of her words together into a nonsensical jumble.
"You're what?"
"We're going on a date!" Santana snapped, far louder than she had intended. Her voice had carried throughout the office – startling Emma from her place in the elevator bank. "On Friday," Santana added, at a regular volume this time.
Kurt was taken aback. In all of the time he'd known Santana she'd made it very clear that she didn't 'do' dates. She still had a thriving romantic life, despite her supposed 'dry spell' – but she considered dates a waste of her time. She wasn't interested in a relationship, and probably never would be, she claimed.
"I thought you said dates were for losers?" he replied with a devious smirk, allowing her to push past him but following closely behind her.
"They are. But this is different. It's a cool date," she said with a smile.
"A cool date? What're you guys going bowling or something?" he teased.
"We're going to some immersive show all her friends are talking about. It's at a warehouse in Brooklyn."
Kurt remained silent. That did actually sound pretty cool. He gave Santana a warm smile before returning to his desk. He was happy for her, genuinely. Santana deserved to find someone who warmed her heart the same way the memory of the unnamed Louisville girl did. As happy as he was for her he couldn't help the knot of jealousy that had begun to twist in the pit of his stomach. Blaine was friends with Brittany. Had he told her about what had happened between them? Did Brittany know why Blaine had chosen not to reach out to him? He rubbed his temples, he desperately needed to get these thoughts out of his head.
The jealousy slowly began to melt away as Kurt lost himself in his work. The sound of Emma's kitten heels daintily approaching his desk snapped Kurt out of his bubble.
"The interns are all set in the conference room if you and Santana want to swing by in a few minutes?"
Kurt gave her a nod, promising to stop by as soon as he finished up one last email. He finished up the last of his work before collecting Santana and heading towards the conference room.
"Why did we even hire so many of these minions? All they're going to do is make copies all day," Santana complained, just inches from the door the conference room.
Kurt shoved his elbow against hers. "Play nice," he warned out of the corner of his mouth before they stepped into the room, both of them putting on wide smiles.
Santana was right, Emma had definitely hired more interns than they needed. He scanned the room quickly, giving everyone a cursory glance, only for his heart to slow to a crawl at the sight of a very familiar face.
There he was, just as charming and adorable as he'd been on Sunday night – Blaine. Just the sight of him made Kurt weak in the knees. The fact that he was here at Kurt's office, as one of his interns at that, made Kurt want to sink into the ground. How had it never come up that Blaine was still in college? Suddenly, the memory of Emma sending around the list of their fall interns in an email last week came flooding back. He'd forgotten all of the names on the list by now but a nagging feeling told him that he had definitely come across Blaine's name. Santana's fingers dug harshly into the skin of his arm as she also caught sight of Blaine. He turned to her with a worried look. Her lips were parted in a silent gasp, her gaze frantically flickering between him and Blaine.
Blaine appeared to be keeping his cool. He looked startled, but no one around him seemed to notice. He was completely focused in on Kurt, eyes wide as saucers. The faintest traces of a blush had begun to creep up along Blaine's cheeks as he tugged at his bow tie nervously.
"I'm sorry, I… d-don't feel so well," Kurt mumbled, eyes still locked with Blaine's before he bolted out of the room. Santana nervously looked back between him and Emma before excusing herself to run after him.
Kurt made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and practically knocking Santana to the ground. He leaned against the wall and buried his face in his hands, urging himself not to cry or scream in frustration.
"Okay, I need you to take a deep breath for me, Kurt," Santana soothed as she cautiously stepped towards Kurt, her voice unusually calming. "Everything's going to be okay."
"Santana, I slept with an intern. An intern! How could things possibly be okay?" he snapped as he lost his composure, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks.
"You didn't know he was an intern when you fucked him. Or he fucked you. Whichever one it was."
Kurt glared at her. Now was not the time for her prying jokes. She frowned, realizing she'd said the wrong thing. She shifted closer to him, pulling a napkin from the sink top and handing it to him.
"You're not going to get in trouble. There's no way you could've known, and— "
"Except I could've known. If I'd just talked to him for five minutes instead of just insisting that he… do other things. We got the list of intern names last week, so now if anyone finds out– "
"Hey, slow your roll here. No one's going to find out," Santana said sternly, gripping Kurt's shoulders tightly.
He sniffled, averting himself from her intense gaze. "What if he says something?"
"Why? So he can get himself fired too? He's not going to say anything, I'll make sure of it."
"Please don't threaten him," Kurt pleaded. As angry as he was with Blaine no one deserved the wrath of Santana Lopez.
"I won't. I'll just have a very professional talk with him and make sure we set everything straight," she assured, giving Kurt a smile. "Now get yourself together. The last thing you need is all of the other minions knowing something's up. I'll cover for you, just go back to your desk and try to relax."
Kurt nodded, sniffling as he wiped away his tears. Before Santana could leave he lunged forward and enveloped her in a tight hug, her body tense in his arms.
"Thank you, Santana," he whispered.
She sighed, her body relaxing as she returned the embrace, a rare expression of compassion on both of their ends.
"You owe me, lady lips," she replied, shooting him a wink before she left the bathroom.
Kurt collapsed back against the wall once the door had closed behind Santana. He rubbed at his red eyes and blotchy skin, forcing himself not to start crying all over again. He'd shed enough tears in this bathroom for one lifetime.
"He's your WHAT?!" Mike sputtered, spitting his mouthful of cereal back into the bowl.
"That's actually kinda hot," Tina chimed in, Mike shooting her a suspicious look.
Blaine had considered keeping his discovery about Kurt to himself, but by the end of the day he was sure he was going to burst if he didn't vocalize all of the thoughts racing through his mind. He usually went to his mother or older brother, Cooper, but the thought of talking to either of them about his post-one night stand troubles made his skin crawl. Mike and Tina had proved to be a captive audience, hanging on to Blaine's every word as he started with his initial encounter with Kurt at Scandals, and finishing with the reveal that they were now coworkers.
"I mean I guess it's hot in theory, but mostly things were just… awkward?"
Besides their moment in the conference room during orientation Kurt and Blaine hadn't so much as come within 5 feet of each other for the rest of the day. Blaine had been paired off with Marley and Sebastian Smythe to train with Emma for the rest of the day. He'd gazed enviously at Mercedes, Artie, and Jake who had been paired with Kurt for training. At one point Kurt had leaned over to grab something off the floor, his scarf shifting to briefly reveal the fading copper marks that stretched along his neck – the marks Blaine had taken so much joy in creating. The sight sent a jolt of arousal straight to Blaine's cock and he'd made sure to keep his eyes away from Kurt for the rest of the day. The last thing he needed was a hard on during his first day.
"Did you guys talk at all?" Tina asked, resting her chin on her folded arms.
"No. He was training other people the whole day… I have his phone number though," Blaine mused as he pulled his phone out and scrolled to Kurt's contact card.
It wasn't until he'd seen him again that Blaine had realized he'd completely forgotten to text Kurt yesterday. He'd let himself get so bogged down by all of his back-to-school work that he hadn't texted anyone, not even Mike. He'd felt guilty at first, hoping Kurt wasn't upset with him for not reaching out sooner – but then again, it was a lucky twist of fate that he hadn't wound up texting Kurt that night. The last thing they needed right now was to get further involved with one another.
"Wait, you're not thinking about texting him are you?" Mike snapped, pointing his spoon at Blaine.
"No, of course not!"
"You should probably delete his number," Tina said sadly, giving Blaine a knowing look. Mike nodded in agreement.
"Right. Yeah. I will," Blaine assured them. He picked himself off the couch and headed towards his room. "I'm going to get a head start on some homework," he called out before closing the door behind him.
"Don't text him!" Mike called out just moments before the door slammed shut behind Blaine.
Blaine groaned as he flopped face first onto his bed. He hadn't felt the urge to text Kurt until Mike had mentioned it. Would it really hurt if he sent him just one quick text? Just to apologize for not reaching out earlier and that he would back off if that's what Kurt wanted. Blaine assumed Kurt wouldn't want anything to do with now that the circumstances had changed, considering Kurt had looked like he was going to be sick the moment he laid eyes on him that morning. One text. That would be it.
"Hey, this is Blaine. I'm really sorry I didn't text you yesterday. I got distracted and it slipped my mind, and I know that's not an excuse but I just wanted you to know."
Blaine read over the message three times for good measure, but his thumb hovered over the send button. He chewed roughly on his bottom lip, debating the pros and cons of sending the message. His phone screen darkened as he continued to mull over whether this would be worth it. He hopped off his bed, pacing back and forth for another five minutes before finally grabbing his phone and hitting send before he could continue overthinking. He threw the phone onto his bed as he turned to sit at his desk. The text was sent, there was nothing else he could do so he might as well focus his attention on something else.
Within 10 minutes Blaine's phone buzzed. He immediately abandoned the open book in front of him and dove for his phone, fingers flying to the screen. His heart leapt, it was a text from Kurt.
"Are you INSANE?!"
His heart sank. He stared at the message for what felt like hours, his mind racing to try to come up with a suitable response. The problem was he wasn't sure what exactly Kurt was upset about. A set of three dots appeared on the screen – Kurt was typing. Blaine's breath hitched, his grip on the phone tightening as he waited anxiously for Kurt's next text.
"Please delete my number. You can't text me, I'm your supervisor now."
Blaine frowned. He understood that Kurt was in a tough position, but he couldn't help the disappointment he felt at having his hopes of something more blossoming with Kurt squashed. He opened up Kurt's contact card, prepared to press the Delete button when yet another text from Kurt came in.
"Sorry, that was harsh. Thank you for apologizing, I appreciate it."
Well, at the very least it didn't seem like Kurt absolutely hated him which was a significant improvement from where Blaine thought he stood just seconds ago. He considered not replying and simply deleting Kurt's number as he'd requested, but the nagging in his stomach urged him to send just one last text before he had to say goodbye to Kurt's phone number.
"It's alright. I would never want to hurt someone like you."
It wasn't until after he sent the text that he immediately began to regret his decision. It had been way too much, so much so that Blaine had no doubt it would make Kurt uncomfortable. Kurt was his boss – he could fire Blaine for all he knew. He would never let himself live it down if he got himself fired from his dream internship all over a stupid lovesick text. He quickly shut off his phone, tucking it under his pillow and heading back into the living room.
"I texted him," he announced to Mike and Tina, who were still seated at the kitchen table eating dinner.
"Jesus Blaine you were gone for like ten minutes!" Mike scolded, throwing his hands up into the air. He pushed right past Blaine to walk directly into his room. "Where's your phone?" he shouted, already rummaging through the pile of papers on Blaine's desk.
"What do you need it for?" Blaine asked warily.
Tina stood up next, approaching Blaine with a stern look. "We need to see what you sent him." Her voice was so serious Blaine was briefly convinced he'd actually committed some kind of crime.
"We're not going to dissect everything I said!" Blaine protested, heading back into his room and grabbing his phone from its hiding place before tucking it back into his pocket.
"We have to, or else you're going to spend the rest of the week obsessing over what you should have said instead." Mike attempted to swipe Blaine's phone out of his pocket, but he was quick enough to dodge him, shoving Mike out of his room in the process and closing the door once again. "You'd better not complain about this tomorrow!" Mike shouted from the other side of the door.
Blaine knew Mike and Tina were trying to help – and they were right, he'd probably want to complain and obsess over the text message tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that until Kurt acknowledged him. Yet the thought of letting them read his texts with Kurt felt like a breach of intimacy. He wanted to keep that to himself for just a while longer.
Before he could let himself fall back into the deep hole of obsession he tucked his phone away again, climbing under the covers and willing himself to fall asleep before he drove himself insane. He slowly drifted off into a wistful slumber – his dreams filled with hazy visions of a beautiful boy dressed up as Ziggy Stardust, the taste of his skin, the sound of his voice.
Kurt had somehow survived the day. At several points he'd considered feigning a stomach bug and heading home early, but he now had a trio of wide-eyed interns he was responsible for and Sue's schedule was heavier than usual. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any more stressful, it did – all because of a single text message.
"I'll be at the apartment tonight. XO - Rachel"
Kurt knew that when he'd agreed to splitting a studio with Rachel that it would come back to bite him at some point, and today was that day. The two had agreed that Kurt would stay on the couch and Rachel would take the bed on the nights she needed to stay over, but that Kurt was free to have the apartment to himself whenever she didn't.
Rachel hadn't needed the apartment for weeks now. She was seldom around to begin with – her Funny Girl rehearsal schedule and various press and publicity obligations keeping her busy enough that she usually chose to crash somewhere closer to the theater. Now that she was shacking up with her costar, Brody – or at least Kurt thought his name was Brody – she hardly ever stopped by the apartment.
Having had his own reign over the place for so long, Kurt hadn't cared much when he neglected to go through his usual apartment deep clean on Sunday morning. The place was still neat and tidy, but Rachel always wanted things in top shape. Not to mention, he hadn't had a chance to change the sheets from Sunday night, and the last thing he wanted was for Rachel to come home to find soiled sheets on what was technically her bed.
The small miracle was that Kurt had successfully avoided Blaine the entire day. It wasn't too difficult a task with Blaine assigned to shadow Emma on the opposite side of the office. By the time the interns headed out in one mass cluster at 6pm Kurt let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He'd managed to get through one day – just four more months to go.
"You down for a drink tonight? I owe you a shot for surviving this shit show of a day," Santana said, coming to sit by Kurt's desk.
A drink sounded amazing, but he knew he had to focus on work. "Sorry, not tonight. Rachel's coming back to the apartment tonight and I need to get back in time to beat her there and get everything up to code for her." Kurt shot Santana an apologetic smile before turning back to his computer.
"Right, you guys share a studio. Which reminds me, have I told you how ridiculously weird that is?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Only a hundred times."
"Good. Just checking," Santana said with a shrug, blowing Kurt a kiss before she headed out for the night.
Kurt was well aware that his living situation with Rachel was unusual to say the least, but it had worked out in his favor. Just a few weeks out from their NYADA graduation they had stars in their eyes and big dreams of living in Manhattan and making names for themselves. Rachel had succeeded in both of those respects – Kurt just lived in Manhattan.
They knew they wanted to live together, but had been discouraged by the exorbitant prices for two bedrooms in all of the areas Rachel deemed acceptable. She found the studio the same day she had her final callback for Funny Girl.
"Kurt, look at it, it's amazing and it's a steal! Plus if I get this part you can have the apartment whenever I'm travelling or have to stay late for rehearsals!"
She was jumping the gun, she wouldn't know if she would get the part for two more weeks. Plus, Kurt wasn't confident that even if she did get the part that her rehearsals would carry on so late that it would keep her from returning home. He'd expressed his reluctance, but she'd insisted. Rachel was impossible to stop when she had her heart set on something – an incredibly frustrating quality of hers. Kurt had ignored the warning advice from Burt and his fellow NYADA classmates and signed the lease with Rachel.
Now four months later Rachel was set to star as Fanny Brice on Broadway and Kurt had a studio on the Upper West Side mostly to himself.
When Kurt finally stumbled into his apartment at a quarter past seven he moved at lightning speed. He gathered up the soiled bed sheets and tossed them into the laundry basket, replacing them with Rachel's favorite lavender scented sheets. He scrubbed the kitchen counters until he could see his reflection before moving on to dusting every surface in the apartment. Finally, he reached under his bed for the large clear container full of snacks he saved specifically for Rachel's arrival. He loaded the kitchen cabinets up with her favorite granola bars, teas, and nuts and checked that he didn't have any meat products in the fridge. While Rachel didn't often force her vegetarianism on others the thought of meat in her own fridge made her uneasy.
By the time Rachel arrived Kurt had only just collapsed onto the couch, completely exhausted. The smell of peppermint and hairspray filled the air as she walked in carrying two armfuls of bags.
"I come bearing gifts!" she announced, her beaming smile immediately falling as she sniffed the air.
Kurt stiffened. All he could smell was the fumes from Rachel's favorite candle, which he'd lit just minutes ago.
"You had sex in here," Rachel announced, Kurt gawking at her presumption.
"I – what? What're you talking about?" he asked incredulously as he lifted himself up from the couch. He couldn't tell from Rachel's tone whether she was angry or not.
"There's a certain smell, it's never smelled that way before," she observed, eyes narrowing as she stepped further into the apartment.
Kurt was slightly offended. It was true that he'd never had sex in the apartment before Sunday, but still. "That doesn't mean that I had sex here."
Rachel turned to him with a wary look. She was his best friend after all, and she could see right through him. "What was his name?"
Kurt cursed Rachel's intuition, crossing his arms and sitting back down on the couch with a huff. "It doesn't matter. He won't be coming back again if that's what you're wondering," he replied bitterly, more bite to his tone than he had intended.
"Oh, sweetie," Rachel cooed, setting her bags down and sitting on the couch beside him. "The reason I have to stay here tonight is because I broke off things with Brody," she said somberly, perking up a bit when she reached for one of her bags and pulled out a bottle of white wine. "Let's be sad together?"
It wasn't until that moment that Kurt realized just how much he missed Rachel. There was a time when Kurt had found her presence loud, abrasive, and annoying – but he just wasn't the same without her around. Rachel had always pushed and motivated him. She was the biggest dreamer he'd ever met, and she wanted the same for Kurt. Now that her dreams had come true Kurt couldn't help but feel as though he'd been left behind.
Kurt put aside all thoughts of Blaine and Sue and loneliness and focused on enjoying the rare evening he had to spend with Rachel in their home. Rachel waxed poetic about her love affair with Brody, calling him her 'one great love.' By her third glass of wine she had moved on to calling him a selfish pig who had broken things off with her because she'd insisted that he invest in higher thread count sheets for his bedroom. Both Rachel and Kurt knew that Brody was a temporary substitute for Rachel's true 'one great love' – Kurt's step brother, Finn, who was still living back in their hometown in Ohio.
Kurt let Rachel rant to her heart's content, satisfied with keeping the details of his own heartbreak to himself. He'd nearly gotten away with not mentioning Blaine until he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He quickly glanced at it, brow furrowing at the unfamiliar number. He scanned the screen, letting out a choked out cough as he bolted to his feet.
"I need to go to the bathroom," he announced more loudly than was necessary, leaving behind a confused Rachel as he ran to the bathroom.
Once the door was locked behind him Kurt's fingers flew across the keyboard as he tapped a response to Blaine. He hit send before he could overthink what he was doing. If one day Sue decided to raid Kurt's phone and saw that he had been texting one of their interns he was done for. It was an outlandish thing to be worried about, but he wouldn't put it past Sue to go snooping through his phone one day.
Naturally, he instantly regretted being so harsh to Blaine. He hadn't gotten much satisfaction out of the confirmation that Blaine did intend to text him and had just gotten caught up in other things, he was too preoccupied with the idea of Blaine's name appearing in his phone now that things had changed. It had been foolish of Blaine to text him, but sweet nonetheless. He sent off an apology text before tucking his phone away and stepping out of the bathroom.
"You were texting him weren't you?" Rachel was standing directly outside the bathroom door, her arms folded sternly across her chest.
Kurt blushed, shifting awkwardly as he shrugged. "He texted me first."
Just as he said this, his phone buzzed. Rachel's eyes widened as she stepped towards Kurt, backing him up against the bathroom door.
"What did he say, Kurt?"
Kurt attempted to bypass Rachel, but she quickly stepped in front of his path. He groaned, there was no hope of escape in their single room studio anyway. He opened up the text message, reading it out loud.
"It's alright. I would never want to hurt someone like you." Kurt bit his lip. He really wished that hadn't been the text Rachel had to see, or hear. Blaine's endearing tone managed to make Kurt seem like the villain out of context.
"What did he do to you?" Rachel seemed perplexed, wanting to ask for the full story but knowing Kurt wasn't ready yet.
Kurt shrugged. "Nothing really. It's just… complicated. I really, really liked him, but it's not going to work."
Rachel didn't push, giving Kurt a weak smile before pulling him in for a hug. Kurt sighed as he wrapped his arms around her and took in the all too familiar scent of her favorite perfume. Kurt wasn't big on physical affection, but he'd actually found both of the hugs he received today incredibly soothing. Rachel broke the hug first, holding Kurt at arms length, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
"Time to move on from the sad phase to the dance party phase," she said before releasing Kurt. She bounced over to the speaker on the dining room table and plugged in her phone. She tapped away at the screen for a moment before the opening chords of Carly Rae Jepsen's Party For One began to blare out of the speaker.
"C'mon!" Rachel called out as she ran back into the living room, hopping up on the bed and jumping and dancing in time with the music.
"What're you doing?" Kurt asked warily, not moving from his place by the bathroom.
"We're going to dance and sing until we forget that men are terrible and that none of this really matters!" She bounced off of the bed, grabbing Kurt's hands and pulling him over to her.
Kurt watched her dance gleefully, bouncing from the bed to the carpet to the couch with reckless abandon. She tossed her hair and spun herself in circles until she collapsed into a fit of giggles onto the rug in their living room. She was likely more than just a little drunk, but she really did look like she'd forgotten all of her troubles. Kurt smiled, helping her back up to her feet before finally joining in on her dance party. They flung themselves around the room without a care, throwing pillows and flowers at one another and even ripping up the pictures of Rachel and Brody that she'd brought along with her. They screamed along to the lyrics until their throats were hoarse, not caring about the bangs on the walls from their disgruntled neighbors.
By the time the song faded away they had both thrown themselves onto the bed, laughing so hysterically tears had formed in the corners of their eyes and the muscles in their cheeks had begun to burn.
"I've missed you. I've missed this place," Rachel mused once her laughter had finally subsided, dabbing at the few tears that had slid down her cheeks.
"We've missed you too," Kurt replied, reaching down to squeeze Rachel's hand in his.
Finally, for the first time that week, Kurt felt like things were going to be okay.