A/N: Hi! As a reviewer of the last chapter pointed out, in the real world, Wes wouldn't get away with asking Kurt about his sexuality in an interview. I am aware of this, but thank you for pointing it out. As a UK citizen, our discrimination laws are potentially even stricter than US laws. I have tweaked the chapter to make this issue a bit clearer though. Considering the Glee writers overlook facts like Lima not having a zoo, and that people need a degree to become a teacher, I hope in this instance, you can suspend disbelief, as we often do when we watch the show. I just wanted to move the plot along a bit quicker. I'm sorry if it irritates anyone. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
The Warbler is a Tramp – Chapter Two
"You can't be serious!"
Kurt rolled his eyes. Rachel had been saying the same thing over and over for the last three hours, and it was seriously starting to get on his nerves.
"I am perfectly serious, Rach," he said, and flopped down on the sofa next to Santana to rest his head against her shoulder. If you had told Kurt back in high school, that he would one day willingly look to Santana Lopez for support in his own home, he would have laughed and claimed that he'd sooner put his McQueen collection through a shredder. A lot changes in three years though, and the Latina was a helpful ally against the force of nature that was Rachel Berry.
"But, you can't leave me here with just her!" Rachel accused, gesturing to their Bushwick loft of four years. "What about the rent?"
Santana rolled her eyes. "What's wrong, Berry, scared Lady Hummel won't be able to protect you anymore?"
"I'll kill her!"
"It's cute you think you'd get the chance," Santana shot back. "I have razor blades in my hair, remember?"
"Enough!" Kurt grumbled, and lifted his head to glare at his best friend. "I won't always be gone. I'll still pay my share of the rent. The Warblers have been spending a lot of time here in New York ever since they cracked the American market, so there's a good chance I'll be coming home a lot. I've already had Dad lecturing me about safety; can you please just smile and be happy for me for a change?"
Rachel's frown softened immediately, and she bounced onto the sofa on his other side. "I am happy for you. I'm sorry. I'm just going to miss having you around all the time." She sighed. "And I'm worried about you. That Blaine guy sounds like trouble, and while I know you don't think so, you are a catch. He'd have to be blind not to notice you. What if he hurts you?"
Kurt snorted at the ceiling. "It won't come to that. I mean, yes, the Warbler is a bit of a tramp, but when have I ever been gullible to sleaze balls?"
"It wouldn't be so bad to have that notch on your belt, Hummel," Santana mused, side-eyeing Rachel as she began humming The Lady is a Tramp. "I know a lot of people can say they've tapped that, if the tabloids are anything to go by, but you can spin that tale any way you want once it's over."
"Santana!" Rachel rounded on her. "They wouldn't have warned him about Blaine if he wasn't a serious concern for Kurt."
"At least he could say he banged the lead singer of the band tweens used to wet themselves over back in 2016."
"Oh the temptation," Kurt said sarcastically, fishing his phone out of his pocket to see if his new itinerary had arrived yet. He had a lot of things to sort out before his first day in a week's time, and he wanted to be as prepared as possible. As it happened it was sat in his inbox.
From what he could tell the guys would be in New York for his first month, which was handy because Kurt's UK work visa would take up to three weeks to process once his Certificate of Sponsorship came through from the Canary Records London branch. Then they would be returning to London for studio sessions over the next two months.
He smiled at the thought of being in London a month from now. He'd always wanted to stand at the gates of Buckingham Palace, look up at Big Ben, see a few shows on the West End and view the skyline from the London Eye. Maybe he'd have a few moments to spare for that, when he wasn't running around after five pampered recording artists. A guy could dream.
"So you're really taking the job?" Rachel asked, resting her chin on his shoulder to look at the itinerary too.
"Definitely," he confirmed. "How often do these kinds of opportunities come up? And besides, the contract I signed says I can't fornicate with anyone in the band anyway, so there's no way I'd let him get me fired."
Santana snorted. "Fornicate? Say 'fuck' or nothing if you ever want to get laid again. Are you the only assistant?"
He nodded. "For now. Why?"
"Well, bands and recording artists always have huge entourages, or at least I will when I make it big," Santana said. Kurt smiled indulgently at that. "Don't bands usually have at least one assistant per band member?"
"Wes said they've had a lot of trouble keeping people on as assistant," Kurt responded quietly. He ignored the twinge in his stomach telling him to be wary of that fact. Why did they struggle so much? Surely it can't just be harmless pranks and Blaine's libido that scared people away? "There are plenty of other people around to help me out though. Wes and his assistant Quinn are always there apparently. And as far as entourages go, theirs is pretty large."
"Maybe I should apply," Santana said. "Help you keep them in check."
"No offense, but I'd rather do this without you digging your claws in on my behalf, effective as they are."
She shrugged and tossed her sleek dark hair over her shoulder to cascade down her back. He didn't need her there. He didn't. Kurt wished his subconscious sounded convinced.
The week before his first day went quickly for Kurt, and on Monday morning, he swallowed down the swarm of butterflies batting their wings insistently at the walls of his stomach. Nerves were normal, good even, healthy. Weren't they? I mean, it was just a job that could either be the best or worst thing to ever happen to him. Nothing to worry about...
"Please be the best," he muttered to himself.
Spending the week convincing himself he was ready for any challenge was a wasted effort. The inevitable doubt crept in on Sunday night, right on time for a restless night. He gave up on sleep two hours before his alarm, in favor of occupying his head with mindless reality shows, and by the time he needed to leave, he'd been dressed and pacing the living area of the loft for over 40 minutes.
Quinn met him in the lobby when he arrived at Canary Records at 8 am sharp. They spent the whole morning walking to and from the elevators so she could show him around the New York building as an actual employee.
For that reason he didn't meet any members of the band until lunch time. Quinn dragged him to the cafeteria and left him to eat and relax for an hour, while she ran some errands. He was quite glad of the alone time. Quinn wasn't one for small talk, and she didn't laugh at any of his witty quips. He could already see why the Warblers might not be so fond of her.
"Well, I haven't seen you before?"
Kurt startled at the distinctly English voice from his left and choked on a lettuce leaf. The blonde boy stood to the left of his table cocked his head and bounced on his toes in anticipation, like he was a Labrador being introduced to a brand new chew toy. Kurt finished swallowing his food as gracefully as possible and held his hand to his chest.
"Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me!"
Blondie grinned at that and parked himself on the bench across the table from Kurt. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Are you new, or have you been hiding from us?"
"New," Kurt confirmed. "I'm Kurt. It's my first day."
"Jeff," the other said, held his hand out for Kurt to shake and climbed onto the bench across the table from him. "Nice to meet you, mate. Kurt..." He mulled the name over in his head. "Kurt, Kurt - KURT!"
Kurt clamped his teeth over his fork to stop himself choking on grated carrots this time.
"Nick, what's the name of the new assistant, again?" Jeff bellowed at a dark haired guy who was piling food onto a plate at the buffet cart.
"Wes called him Kurt," Nick responded, not even turning around.
Jeff jumped out of his seat and jabbed his index finger in Kurt's direction excitedly. "Found him!"
"I wasn't aware I was playing hide and seek," Kurt deadpanned, baffled by the ball of energy before him.
Jeff chuckled as Nick approached. "And he's funny."
"Shit Wes, really?" Nick scoffed, throwing a glance at Kurt when he settled down at the table without so much as a 'this seat taken?'
Kurt watched the pair shovel food into their mouths. It took a few moments longer for him to connect the dots and appreciate the significance that he was speaking to one English guy and an Irish one. They were Warblers.
"Nick Duval and Jeff Sterling, I presume?" Kurt said, surreptitiously wiped his hand on his trouser leg, and held it out for Nick to shake. "I'm your new slave."
Nick took a moment to look from Kurt's hand to his face, eyes narrowed. Kurt shifted uncomfortably and almost lowered it again, embarrassed. Nick's frown was replaced by a lopsided and genuine smile a moment later though and he accepted the gesture. "Nice to meet you, lad. You don't sound like a New York native to me."
"Neither do you," Kurt quipped.
"That I'm not," Nick conceded, and chewed a mouthful of mash potato before continuing. "I'm from Northern Ireland. Belfast."
Kurt nodded. He'd read Nick's Wikipedia page. "Lima, Ohio."
"Jeff here tells everyone he's from North London, but he's actually from the East End. It fits better with the band's preppy image. You'll notice the difference when he's drunk and the cockney comes out in him."
"Will that be often?" Kurt asked. He wasn't a big drinker himself.
"Most likely," Jeff butted in. "We drink how you Americans eat."
"Said the guy eating three meals in one, while I pick at a salad?"
Nick froze with a forkful halfway to his mouth, eyebrows raised. "And what is your attitude to junk food?" he asked seriously.
"Widely positive," Kurt replied, sensing this could tip their approval of him one way or the other. "I'm only on the salad today because I over indulged on pizza and cheesecake this weekend."
"Yes!" Jeff lifted his arms in victory. "Can we keep him? Our last assistant was a health freak. He kept swapping chocolate for breakfast bars and fruit." He scrunched up his nose in distaste.
Kurt felt his pain. Living with a vegan like Rachel was a nightmare, when he was craving real cheesecake. "So anyway, Wes seemed to think I needed warning against taking the job with you guys," Kurt said with a clear of the throat. He'd rather get to the bottom of this mystery now, possibly nip any ploys and plots in the bud early. He looked between them expectantly.
"Did he now?"
Kurt jumped for the third time in the space of five minutes at the new voice. Did people here lurk behind potted plants before meeting new people? Looking up, he tensed when the Warbler he knew to be Blaine, sat down on Kurt's bench.
"What was he warning about?" Blaine asked, elbows against the table behind him.
Kurt didn't miss the sweep Blaine's eyes did over his dark skinny jeans, fitted waistcoat and the silken blue scarf wrapped around his neck. His mouth opened and closed a few times; Kurt didn't know how to answer that. Truthfully, he'd hoped he wouldn't be caught off guard meeting this particular Warbler, after Wes' discussion with him.
"Well, you look like shit." Jeff scowled at the back of Blaine's messy head of curly hair.
Blaine shrugged. His hazel eyes (which were larger in person than in pictures) were dulled by the presence of dark shadows beneath them, his jaw dusted with stubble rarely seen on the singer at public events.
"Late night," Blaine said with a wink.
Nick rolled his eyes. "Where were you?"
"Around. What did Wes warn you about?" Blaine asked Kurt.
He cocked his head to the side and gave Kurt a lopsided smirk, that was answered by the narrowing of Kurt's.
"I think the usual introduction when you first meet somebody is: 'Hi, nice to meet you, my name is Blaine'," Kurt said coldly. "Considering I just did it for you though, I'll be the polite one and say: Hello Blaine, my name is Kurt. It's a pleasure to meet you." Kurt smiled sweetly, fluttered his fingers and went back to his salad.
"Alright mate, chill out!" Blaine held his hands up in defeat, directing his middle finger at Nick and Jeff when they sniggered into their lunches. "You already knew who I was, and I figured Jeff had latched onto the new assistant, so I knew who you were. Excuse me for taking an interest."
"Taking an interest? Is my first job going to be teaching you proper etiquette and manners?" Kurt snapped.
He tensed when Blaine's hand pressed against his knee. "You can teach me manners any time you like, darling," he said coyly.
The color in Kurt's cheeks spread to the tips of his ears. Moving himself to the edge of the bench and out of Blaine's reach, he held his index finger up in warning. "Not happening, Anderson, so don't even go there."
Blaine was saved from replying by the arrival of Quinn, who surveyed the scene before her with narrowed and critical eyes.
"I see you three have met your new assistant. Is everything okay?"
"Fine," Kurt said. "Is it time to go?"
She nodded. He got up and put his tray and plate away in the disposal area.
"Well, he's a bit prickly. What the fuck was that?" Kurt heard Blaine say as he walked past. He waved to Nick and Jeff and offered Blaine a curt nod, barely withholding a smirk at Jeff's gleeful reply as he left the cafeteria;
"Oh, we are so keeping this one. That, my friend, was a rejection. Welcome to the real world, Blainey."