True Like
(or Looks Can Be Deceiving)

A/N: Minor OCs. Everyone is written from K/B POV.

Warnings: Ironically, none.

Chapter 10: Warnings

He checked carefully, leaning out to look straight down before stepping foot out of the cab. Kurt stood on the curb, having quickly hopped out on the other side, and was now silently laughing.

"All clear. Come on out, chicken."

"I'm not chicken. I've simply learned to be cautious." Blaine picked up his crutches and climbed out while Kurt paid the driver.

"Tomato, tomahto," Kurt waved off his argument. He resettled the costumes slung over his shoulder and looked at Blaine. "Ready?"

"I haven't been gone that long. I think I can handle it."

Kurt's eyes softened. "A lot can happen in a short time," he said quietly, cupping Blaine's jaw and leaning close to press his lips to his boyfriend's, then stepping quickly back and glancing around. "We're going to keep this quiet, right?"

"If that's what you want." Blaine wasn't at all confident that he could keep his eyes and hands off of his extremely hot boyfriend all day every day. He would try, though, for Kurt's sake.

Blaine was welcomed back with a bit of cheering and plenty of jokes at his expense while Kurt went straight to his desk. It was obvious he was starting to freak out a little, fearing he'd fallen behind in his work. Even more obvious was the director's relief when his half-hearted, "Are you okay to work?" was answered with an unequivocal affirmative. He was more than ready to jump immediately into the first scene.

"Michael, can I talk to you first? Privately?" Blaine stopped him before everyone could be called to their marks.

"Of course. Pull up a chair." Michael indicated the audience seating. "Can you handle the stairs?"

"I think so." Blaine maneuvered safely, albeit slowly, down the steps at the side of the stage.

"What's up?" Michael asked once they were seated.

"It's Orsino." He explained the approach he and Kurt had come up with during their rehearsals, leaving out his personal opinion of the character's resemblance to a feminine cleansing product and their extensive practice of a potential kissing scene. Michael was hesitant, but willing to see what Blaine could do with the role before deciding.

"Okay then. If that's all." Michael started to get up.

"Wait. There's one other thing, actually." Despite his very real concern about overstepping, Blaine was determined to get this off his chest.. "It's about Kurt. I understand he auditioned for Viola."

"Yes?" Michael replied unhelpfully.

"I wondered why you cast him as Malvolio." Blaine kept the question light, with no trace of accusation.

"Malvolio's a difficult role. Done wrong he'd come off as an ass. Done right he might be the funniest character in the play. Kurt's our strongest comedic actor. I know he can handle it."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be great. And he'd have been a great Viola too."

Michael shrugged. "Probably. What's your point?"

Blaine's hand curled into a fist, thankfully out of sight of the director. "Have you ever given Kurt a role he auditioned for?"

"He always goes out for the lead," Michael said, as if that explained everything. "Not usually the female lead, but..."

"And you never give him the lead?" Blaine willed the man to stop and think about his own words.

"The lead isn't usually the funny guy. Not in the plays we've done anyway." Michael looked confused by Blaine's persistence after he'd already explained.

"Kurt's an actor. Not a comedian." Blaine kept his tone neutral while trying to hold on to his temper.

"He's a pro. He'll take the part he's given. Why are you pushing this? You usually audition for the same roles."

"If Kurt's better, he should get the part," Blaine shrugged. That was just good sense.

"And who'd be our comic relief? You? Look at it this way. If this were a baseball team and Kurt was my best shortstop, would I put him on 2nd? Sure, he might do great on 2nd. Meanwhile the new shortstop costs us the game. Kurt has a way with the audience. He makes them laugh and they love him. He puts butts in seats."

Blaine's anger quickly dissipated as he listened to Michael sing Kurt's praises. However, that didn't solve the problem. "Thank you for explaining. I think I understand now. There's something you should keep in mind, though. Kurt really wants a dramatic role. Look at it this way," Blaine used the director's own metaphor against him. "Would you rather have him occasionally play 2nd, or find another team? If he can't get what he needs here, he might look for it somewhere else."

"Now you sound like my ex-wife."

Blaine smiled. "Ex being the operative word there."

"Has he said something about leaving?" Michael looked mildly panicked.

"No, nothing. I think his loyalty to Sue keeps him here, but who knows how far that will go if he gets an offer from another theater. If you give him a chance, he might surprise you."

Michael looked lost in thought as Blaine made his way back to the steps. He felt better now.

xxxxxXxxxxx

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Kurt asked again.

"It's fine, Kurt." Maggie took his hand and smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure I could pick up a few tips from your Viola. Just try not to show me up too badly."

"No worries there. You're fabulous. Anyway, this is about Orsino. I think you'll like Blaine's take on him."

"I hope so," said Maggie. "I'm not sure what Viola's supposed to see in that guy, mooning over another woman all the time. I would've told him to get over himself a long time ago."

From the corner of his eye he saw Blaine hop-step out onstage using a single crutch and waving Kurt over. The nervous man squeezed Maggie's hand and went to take his place as Viola/Cesario. Other cast members joined them for the scene they'd chosen from Act 2 and Michael gave them the go-ahead.

Blaine faced downstage and delivered Orsino's self-pitying lines like a true drama queen, casting furtive glances at his attendants to be sure they were paying attention. Everyone knew servants were gossips. That was how most news traveled. He was demanding a song, politely, but melodramatically, until someone replied that the singer wasn't there and Blaine's demeanor abruptly changed. In a normal voice he asked who the singer was, then, seeming to remember himself, schooled his features back into the forlorn, heartsick creature he wanted Olivia to hear about.

Kurt watched and waited until he was summoned. Then Blaine wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and making personal comments verging on inappropriate, and later in the scene he sent everyone away except Kurt, droning on and on about Olivia. Typical.

Moving toward the audience, Kurt turned his back to Blaine, who looked down, his head slowly tilting to the side with a look of confused lust growing on his face. Kurt delivered a flawless portrayal of Viola, hinting at a secret love for the clueless Orsino, who was currently inspecting his ass, then spun to face him again and Blaine instantly and guiltily looked away, putting the woeful look back on with obvious effort. Kurt heard soft laughter from the front row. Michael seemed to be enjoying Blaine's campy performance.

At the end of the scene, the actors took their bows to the applause of their audience. Then Blaine went off to get his other crutch and take his meds while Kurt went down the steps to see Michael.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he said.

"Of course, Kurt," the director replied absently while flipping through the script, making notes.

"It's Blaine. I mean it's about his ankle." Kurt tried not to sound as concerned as he was, keeping his worried voice at the level of one colleague looking out for another.

"What about it?"

"He needs to stay off his feet or it won't heal. He won't recover in time for opening night." He spoke in a language he knew Michael would understand. "He should have a chair onstage for rehearsals. Unless you'd like Duke Orsino to be on crutches when the curtain goes up."

"No, we don't want that. He can sit."

"Thank you."

"Kurt."

"Yes?"

"You were really good up there." The director stopped scribbling to look at him. "You'd have made an excellent Viola. Tall, but excellent." He gave Kurt a friendly grin.

Kurt was taken aback by the compliment and the grin. Michael was usually all business. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"You're a terrific Malvolio too. Very versatile. I wish I had a few more like you."

Kurt was speechless and wondered if Michael was feeling unwell. The director went back to work on the script, essentially dismissing him, and Kurt walked away shaking his head in a state of happy confusion.

xxxxxXxxxxx

Blaine took his meds, ready to grit his teeth through the ache and hoping his ankle didn't swell up again. When he got back to the side of the stage, Kurt was dragging a big, comfy chair from the other side, carefully adjusting the position and angle, ensuring Blaine could see and be seen without getting up. Then he dashed offstage again, soon returning with a small stool and cushion from the prop room. Blaine watched his every move as Kurt fussed over the arrangement. He was unbelievably and effortlessly sexy. When he'd finished, he nodded once in satisfaction before glancing up, catching Blaine's eye.

They stared intently at each other and Blaine made a subtle motion with his head for Kurt to follow him. He found a quiet corner and turned to see his boyfriend rapidly bearing down on him. "Kurt," Blaine said warningly, unhappy that the warning actually stopped him. He didn't want to keep this a secret. He'd have loved for Kurt to grab him and kiss him in front of everyone.

Kurt seethed with frustration. His lover was standing a few feet away, looking devastatingly hot, and he wasn't allowed to touch him. It had seemed like a good idea last night when they were lying in bed, snuggling and talking after making love; and again this morning as Kurt helped him bathe and dress after making love. He'd stood directly in front of Blaine, tying his tie for him, calmly explaining that it would be best all around if they kept their personal and professional lives separate. Blaine had promised to behave, then promptly kissed him in that way he had that made Kurt want to shove him against the nearest flat surface and fuck his brains out.

He didn't think they'd be able to concentrate at work if they allowed themselves to touch. And he was right. One look from Blaine and Kurt had forgotten where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. What the hell was he supposed to be doing? Other than dropping to his knees and unzipping Blaine's slacks with his teeth?

"Kurt," Blaine sent another low warning toward his boyfriend, standing still and silent a few feet away, with his gaze boring into Blaine's crotch. Sinfully dark blue eyes flew back to his and he was stunned by their naked hunger. "Kurt," he whispered roughly. "Tell me what you want."

Kurt moved slowly closer, keeping just out of reach. "I want your cock in my mouth," he said, staring straight into Blaine's eyes. "I want to lick every inch of you up and down. I want to rub my cheek against your shaft and roll your balls on my tongue, and I want to feel your hot, hard dick sliding down my throat."

Though Kurt's husky voice was barely audible, Blaine heard every word. They sizzled into his brain and set fire to his blood. He was rock hard before Kurt finished speaking. And he was still rock hard when Kurt took a deep breath, regaining his composure, buttoning his jacket to cover his arousal and stepping forward to button Blaine's with a promise in his eyes that they'd continue this later. Then he turned and walked away.

Blaine didn't move. His pulse couldn't begin to slow until Kurt's swaying hips were out of sight. He'd been asking if Kurt wanted to drop the secrecy. He hadn't been prepared for the answer he got. He tried to get his mind off the images his lover had planted firmly in his head, desperately reciting Shakespeare in his mind and trying not to remember the heat of Kurt's mouth on his cock. He was still standing there, hard-on finally receding, when Jack ran over to tell him Sue wanted to see him in her office.

xxxxxXxxxxx

She was on the phone when he tapped lightly at her open door and she waved him to a seat.

"Yes, Your Excellency. I'll keep an eye out," she was saying. "In fact, I might know just the man." Blaine felt strangely nervous that she looked at him during that last statement.

"Yes, Your Excellency... Okay. Love to the wives and babies. Take care."

After hanging up, Sue laced her fingers on top of her desk, watching Blaine until he cleared his throat as if to speak.

"That was my dear friend Pasha Fajoole of Omanigarden," she calmly informed him.

Blaine was quietly skeptical, too polite to mention his doubt about that being a real country.

"He calls me now and then, when his harem needs a new eunuch," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Blaine's jaw dropped.

"You're probably wondering why I called you in here."

He made an effort to form a response. Unnecessarily, as it turned out, since she cut him off before he could make a sound.

"It occurred to me that you and I have never really gotten to know each other." Sue leaned back comfortably in her chair.

When she didn't continue, Blaine took that as his cue. "What would you like to know?"

"Nothing. I have your social security number. That's all I need. No, I thought you might like to know a few things about me."

"Well, I–"

"For instance, you might be interested to know I'm not originally from the U.S. And I have diplomatic immunity."

"I don't–"

"And I come from a very tight-knit family. The kind who would do anything for each other, no questions asked. My uncle and I are quite close. He's a taxidermist. Highly specialized. Does a lot of work in New Jersey."

"Uh–"

"How's the leg?" She smoothly changed the subject. "I understand Porcelain took very good care of you."

In bed, Blaine mentally completed the sentence. "He's amazing. I don't know how I would have managed. Thank you for letting him work at my apartment."

"He's a good man, that Porcelain. Always been like a big brother to me. Family."

"Big–"

"Absolutely irreplaceable around here. One of a kind. Not like some of the dime-a-dozen actors we get passing through," she said.

"Wha–"

"They show up, put on a few plays and then poof, they're gone. Vanished. Just like that. Never to be heard from again."

"Um–"

"Well, I think that's enough sharing for one day. I'm sure you have a lot of rehearsing to catch up on."

He sat in stunned silence for a few seconds while Sue put on her glasses and proceeded to do some paperwork, ignoring him completely. Not sure what to make of the mostly one-sided conversation, he pulled himself to his feet and headed for the stage.

xxxxxXxxxxx

"You've done a wonderful job. These costumes are perfect." Kurt beamed at his assistants, causing a murmur of delight to pass among the three ladies. Although Kurt never had a harsh word for them, he wouldn't accept flawed work either. If there was a problem with a costume, he'd simply explain what was wrong and how to fix it.

"Keep it up and let me know when the rest is finished." They went back to what they'd been doing. "Brittany," Kurt said, stopping the blonde as she walked away. "Thanks again for all your help while I was out."

"Anything for you, Kurt. You're the best boss in the world."

"I don't know about that, but thanks anyway." Kurt was flattered. The compliment may have been overstated, but she seemed sincere.

"No, you are," said Brittany seriously. "My old bosses would yell. You're always nice and you never make anyone feel stupid."

"Of course not, Brittany. I don't think anyone is stupid, and I like working with you. You did a really good job on Maria's outfits. We still need wardrobes for Clown and Antonio. Think you can handle those while I take care of Toby and Andrew?"

"Yes." She clapped at being entrusted with so much responsibility.

"Great. Just let me know if you need any help," Kurt said with a smile.

"Are you going to work at home again?"

"I'll probably be here most of the day and put in the rest of my hours at home for a couple of weeks, until Blaine is better," Kurt replied.

"I saw him today. I think someone hurt him," Brittany confided, looking concerned.

"No, he just sprained his ankle. I've been staying home to take care of him." Kurt's face became heated.

"You're so nice," Brittany sighed. "He's nice too. If he wasn't gay, I'd hit that."

"Brittany!" Kurt choked out, torn between being scandalized and laughing his butt off.

"Oh! I just had the best idea." Her eyes got huge and she placed a hand on his arm. "You should ask him out, because you both like boys and you're both super hot."

"I– we–" Kurt stuttered to a halt. He hated lying and hadn't taken into consideration that he might have to. Keeping a secret from people who were not personally involved didn't feel like lying, but this was approaching dangerous territory. "I'll think about it," he hedged, hoping to drop the subject.

Brittany smiled from ear to ear, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "You would have a boyfriend! You think he's hot, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose he is." A deeper blush slowly crept into his face. That had felt like a lie. A more truthful answer would have been something like, 'He's so hot, he sets my pants on fire.'

"Do you want me to talk to him? I could tell him he should date you because you're so nice and sweet like a fluffy kitten, and you'd go out for dinner or something and then you guys could totally do it!"

"Brittany!"

"Porcelain!"

Kurt waved Brittany away and turned, hoping in vain his face wasn't as red as it felt as his boss came through the doorway. "Hi, Sue."

"Welcome back," she said with a knowing look.

"Thanks," said Kurt.

"I had a little talk with your patient this morning."

If any of the heat had left his cheeks he was sure it came flooding back instantly. He wanted to run to Blaine and find out what she'd said to him. "Oh?" he replied, finding himself at a loss for words. An unfamiliar feeling.

"He's not very chatty, is he?" Sue commented.

"He's not? Maybe his ankle was hurting. I should check on him." Kurt started to turn away.

"Porcelain." Her quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Yes?"

"Don't let him overdo it. I'm counting on you to get him better before we open. I know you're the man for the job. If he's in pain, take him home and get him horizontal."

Surprise made him burst out laughing. "I will. Thank you, Sue. You really are the best. May I hug you again?"

"Let's not make a habit of that. You'll have people thinking they're allowed to touch me."

A/N: No real smut AND no Firefly? What? Gotta be a fluke. Okay, smut coming up and here's a quote for ya: "Someone ever tries to kill you, you try to kill 'em right back!" – Mal

Words to live by.

Thanks shadowjardis for the great suggestions. Threatening!Sue is fun!