Thank you all for your feedback on this story! I'll try to have a posting schedule of every Monday and Friday. After this, the next chapter will be posted around October 3rd or 4th.
Disclaimer: It's not true, so don't sue.
"He thinks I'm a woman."
Mercedes' brows shot to her hairline as she blew the steam from her coffee. "You're not serious?" she asked incredulously, and Kurt nodded solemnly.
"Dr. Krugman told me that a few of her patients have severe androphobia, so... I guess I pretended to be a woman on the spot," Kurt responded, shrugging a shoulder. Mercedes sat back in her chair, laughing in disbelief. "I was wearing that McQueen kilt after all."
"And you're always the one who defends your masculinity?"
"Yeah, but I don't want to make her patients uncomfortable. It's a good job. My benefits are way better than when I was interning."
"Honey, you barely had any benefits."
"Exactly!" Kurt dismissed, drinking down his non-fat mocha. Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Here's the kicker: my name is Kurtney."
Mercedes burst out with legitimate laughter this time. Kurt felt inexplicably guilty when he chuckled along with her.
"Is that even a name?" she asked between her bouts of giggles.
"It was the first thing I had on the spot," Kurt defended, though his smile gave him away. "I had to cover up saying 'Kurt' with a cough attack."
"You're bad," Mercedes said, shaking her head. Kurt rolled his eyes.
"It's convenient. I don't want a patient stuttering out their name when they're checking in."
"Speaking of patients," Mercedes said conspiratorially. "You say one of them's cute?"
"No, one of them's gorgeous," Kurt corrected, grinning. "I don't know if I can say his name, though. Is that breaking doctor-patient confidentiality?"
"Probably," sighed Mercedes, and Kurt sighed with her.
"Shame, he has a good name too. Very 80's-movie-esque," he hinted, and Mercedes giggled. "I let you take what you can from that. Anyways... I think he has a crush on Kurtney."
Mercedes wasn't giggling anymore. She looked at Kurt seriously. "Kurt..."
"I'm not going to jump his bones or anything, Mercedes, Jesus!" Kurt exclaimed. "I'm just saying! He stares at me every time that he's waiting for Dr. Krugman, I swear."
"Kurt, what if he's... unstable?" Mercedes asked worriedly. "And he ends up stalking you, and slashing you up and you end up a lampshade? Baby, I do not want my best friend becoming furniture."
"Half a moment ago you were asking about which of her patients were cute," Kurt pointed out, and Mercedes waved a hand in the air.
"But I didn't think any of 'em were interested in you! Let alone a girl-you, Kurt, this is not smart. You don't talk to him, do you?"
"He speaks Italian, Mercedes, what could I do?" Kurt asked helplessly, and Mercedes groaned while leaning back in her chair once more.
"There were thousands of men in Italy who spoke Italian. You weren't throwing yourself at any of them."
"And I'm not throwing myself at anyone now," Kurt snipped, sipping at his drink with his eyes narrowed at his best friend. "We made conversation about Italy. That's literally all that happened. I just think that he's cute. Besides, all I said is that he had a crush on Kurtney."
"I can't imagine he'll be that happy when he finds out you're a guy, Kurt," Mercedes said lowly, as though Blaine were in that coffee shop at that moment. Kurt huffed noisily, leaning forward so that only Mercedes could hear him.
"Who says that he'll ever find out?"
Kurt glanced in his car mirror, scrutinizing his reflection. The lip gloss was a bit much, but Blaine was coming in today, right?
And he was a woman on Tuesday and Fridays. Right.
He checked his outfit over one more time, just to check for its gender-ambiguity. His favorite dark wash skinnies with a long grey peacoat. Boring by his standards, but what really made the outfit was the spectacular peacock feather pin he had on his lapel. Beneath the peacoat was a collared shirt, but he had a scarf to cover up the masculinity of it. It wasn't a problem for him to femme up his outfits a bit - to him, fashion was genderless. He'd worn corsets in high school.
As he walked into the office, he noticed that Dr. Krugman was sitting in his seat. He tilted his head at her as he set down his bag behind the desk.
"Hello, Dr. Krugman," he said slowly, and she smiled at him genially.
"Hello, Kurt," she replied. "There's a matter I must speak with you about. Could you step into my office?"
"Sure," Kurt said, feeling a sense of dread already settling in his stomach. He shouldn't have told Blaine his name was Kurtney. He should have corrected him straight off the bat.
He was going to lose his job now.
"I can already see you overanalyzing this, Kurt, and I want you to know I'm not firing you," Nora Krugman said lightly, sitting down in her psychiatrist's chair. Kurt looked at her, eyes wide.
Oh, she was good.
"I'd actually like to ask an enormous favor from you," the doctor said sharply, sitting up in her chair, her impeccably posture suddenly intimidating. Kurt nodded, his throat feeling dry.
"Anything, Dr. Krugman."
"This is about one of my patients, Blaine. It would be extremely soothing for him to have someone to speak to," she began. "He's found that he would like to talk to you more often. However, it is... crucial that he believes you are a woman." Kurt met the woman's eyes, and her gaze was intense. "His condition disallows him from socializing with men at the moment."
Kurt nodded once more. "I don't have a problem with that," he said softly, and Dr. Krugman smiled.
"It won't be necessary for you to pursue any conversation with him. In fact, I'd rather you not. Please wait for him to come to you."
"All right."
"We'll take things from there. Now, I have a 9-o'-clock..."
"I know," Kurt said, grinning at her. "I am your receptionist, after all." Her laughter was light and delicate.
"That you are. Shoo!"
Blaine came at 2:30PM. His appointment wasn't for another half hour, and Kurt knew his early arrival was intentional.
He didn't glance up when Blaine first entered, but he gave him a radiant smile as he checked in. Blaine stumbled backwards a bit on his heel, and Kurt wondered if he was being a bit too forward. Blaine scrawled his name on the paper, not looking directly at Kurt's face.
"Good afternoon, Blaine," Kurt said gently, taking the sign-in clipboard from Blaine. Blaine bit his lip and looked downwards towards his shoes. Then, almost like he had to force himself to, he looked back into Kurt's eyes.
"Good afternoon, Kurtney," he said quietly, and Kurt grinned once more. At this, Blaine was once more taken aback, but offered a tiny smile.
Blaine sat back down on the leather couch he was so fond of. Kurt wondered why momentarily, glancing about the room at all the other armchairs and the other couch by the door.
He realized it was because it was the seating arrangement closest to the receptionist desk. He probably liked being near people, even if he couldn't exactly speak with them.
Kurt decided to peruse his magazine, since Blaine hadn't said another word to him. He felt his mouth watering when he saw the pieces from the new Proenza Schouler collection, but his fashion orgasm was interrupted by Blaine clearing his throat. Kurt glanced upwards and met Blaine's eyes. Blaine immediately looked away, but only slightly.
"Wh-what's your whole name?"
Kurt smiled gently, knowing that Blaine couldn't see it. The guy was adorable.
"Kurtney E. Hummel," he replied, turning the page in his magazine but not looking at it. Blaine nodded shakily.
"W-" Blaine had to cough briefly. "What does the 'E' stand for?"
"Elizabeth."
"That's a beautiful name."
"Thank you."
"That was my sister's middle name, too," Blaine said quietly, his voice sounding a thousand miles away.
"No kidding?"
"I'm not."
"Well, there you go. I'll have to chalk that one up to coincidence, I think." Blaine looked at Kurt then, a grin peeking out. Kurt chuckled briefly before closing his magazine. "This isn't fair. Now I have to know all of your name, too. Do you have a middle name?"
"Sure."
"What is it?"
"I-It's Westwood. My mother's maiden name."
"Blaine Westwood Anderson," Kurt drew out, and he could see a red flush creep up Blaine's neck. "Very debonair, sir."
"Thank you," Blaine said, his voice small once more. "Your name really fits you."
If only you knew.
"I like to think so," Kurt replied, laughing a bit. It was quiet between them for another beat, and Kurt flipped the page of his magazine once more, not seeing any of the text on the page. Blaine cleared his throat again, and Kurt looked up expectantly.
"H-how old are you?"
"I'm 24," Kurt replied smoothly. Blaine's eyes widened.
"So am I."
"Then we're just two peas in a pod, aren't we?" teased Kurt, his smile kind. That red flush decided to settle itself on Blaine's cheeks, it seemed.
"I guess so."
"What do you do, Blaine?" Kurt asked before he could stop himself. Blaine looked at him, surprised.
"...I write the horoscope section of the local newspaper."
"Really?" Kurt questioned, eyebrows raised. Blaine nodded slowly.
"It's something I can do from home so... so, it's convenient."
"Are they really all fake? Or do you have some sort of mystic power that I don't know about?" asked Kurt, pressing for a bit more conversation. This brought a smile out of Blaine independently for once.
"They're all ambiguous. They're things that happen to everybody every day," Blaine explained, his voice gaining a bit of volume as his confidence increased.
"So, in a way, they're fake. But they're all real, too?"
"That's a nice way of putting it. Sure."
"My stepmother follows those things like mad," Kurt mused, putting a hand beneath his chin. "Don't worry, I won't tell her. Can't let you lose a loyal reader." This made Blaine actually laugh, and he had a brilliant, white smile even if his laugh was awkward and inexperienced.
"Thanks," Blaine said, his voice sounding shaky between his chuckles. "But I don't think I'll be cheated out of my livelihood by the loss of one reader."
"You never know," Kurt replied, waggling a finger in Blaine's direction, which kept Blaine grinning.
The door to Dr. Krugman's office opened at that moment, and the lithe brunette doctor emerged. "Blaine, early once again."
"Hello Nora," Blaine said, no longer full of laughter. Kurt glanced over at him, and he saw that the smile had melted from his face. In fact, he even looked disappointed that his session was beginning. Kurt pursed his lips briefly.
"Well, come on in, then."
Blaine stood stiffly and walked by Nora and into her office. Nora sent Kurt an approving smile before closing the glass door.
Kurt exhaled heavily, and glanced back at his magazine. Suddenly, he wasn't so interested in reading anymore.
At 5 PM, Kurt tapped his magazines into order and dropped them into his plaid luggage bag. Nora exited from her office and stretched an arm over her head. Kurt cracked a smile.
"Long day?" he asked conversationally, and she laughed briefly.
"Ye-es," she replied, stretching out the statement. "But I'd like to thank you, Kurt." Kurt raised a single eyebrow at her. "For your conversation with Blaine," she clarified. Kurt's jaw dropped and shook his head.
"No, that's not a problem, I enjoy speaking with him," responded Kurt quickly, rubbing his right arm with his left hand. Nora nodded, her eyes locked on his. Was she testing him?
"Well, that's perfect, because I'm going to have to ask you to continue it."
Kurt nodded, and Nora smiled widely at him. "Thank you once more, Kurt, and I'll see you tomorrow," she dismissed, and Kurt stood hastily.
"Thank you, Dr. Krugman."
As he walked to his car, Kurt couldn't help but feel that guilt rolling up and down his esophagus.
