Hey Klainers – I'm glad you all appear to have enjoyed the reunion chapter. I apologize for the delay of this chapter, but we're here now and that's all that matters right? ;) I can't thank you all enough for your wonderful feedback. As I posted in the interlude, I am now offering a prompt contest for reviewers 99, 100 and 101. For full guidelines please see the interlude immediately before this chapter.
Warning: This chapter is the most angst-filled thing I've written in this story – and will most likely prove to be the most angsty this story ever gets. I've read other angst stories and I would say it is still on the decidedly lighter side of angst, but I thought I'd still put out a warning. Trust me when I tell you things will be just fine, eventually. Keep calm and Klaine on, I have a *lovely* Summer 2016 planned for our boys.
The first few breaks of this chapter kind of jump around a bit in terms of time so please pay attention to the time stamp before a new section so you're not confused.
February 3rd, 2016
3:57PM
"Hey! Hey! Grades from last semester were finally posted!" exclaimed a short African-American woman named Jade, tearing her eyes from her laptop screen to look up from her cross-legged position on Blaine and Kurt's couch.
"Really?" questioned Carlos, a middle-aged Hispanic man who was also a member of Blaine's law school study group.
"Finally! I've been on pins and needles wondering if my scholarship was in danger…" admitted Blaine as he opened the NYULaw Intranet student portal so he could check his marks from the previous semester. The page loaded quickly, and he breathed a sigh of relief – he had managed to attain a 3.34 GPA for the first semester, securing the continuation of his partial scholarship. Tuition at NYU Law was $52,000 a year, and although Blaine's family was quite wealthy, after paying for four years of undergrad studies at Fordham and footing the bill for Kurt and Blaine's apartment in midtown Manhattan (the rent of which tipped the scales at over three grand a month), Blaine's partial scholarship was immensely helpful in terms of keeping him out of student loan debt hell.
"Everybody good?" Jade asked of the small group of five L1 students. Everyone murmured in the affirmative, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. "Alright," she said, nodding briskly, "back to Criminal Law review." Knowing she had the right idea, the four other students reluctantly joined her in burying their heads in books and articles on the e-reserves page of the NYULaw intranet.
"Everything is just a haze for me … What readings are we on again?" frowned Carlos, rubbing at his tired eyes.
"The Role of the Jury from the Kadish, Schulhofer and Steiker text," answered Blaine, showing his book to the man to indicate the correct page.
"Thanks Blaine. Hey, do you think we could –?" Carlos' question was abruptly cut off when the front door was suddenly jerked open. Kurt flew through the room so quickly that the echo of the main door slamming was still audible when the door to Kurt and Blaine's bedroom shut with a bang, but Blaine and the others in his study group heard a distinct, gut-wrenching sob from the bedroom just as the door was closing.
Blaine's eyes widened immediately in confusion and concern, and his classmates looked up at him in shock. He stared at them, frozen, for a moment, before Jade spoke up with a small cough.
"Thanks for hosting, Blaine. We'll see you in class tomorrow." She gave the others a very pointed look, and they all began hastily packing their books and laptops into backpacks and briefcases. Blaine offered Jade what he hoped was a grateful smile, but came out as more of a strangled grimace, as she patted him on the arm quickly and the four law students left without further ado.
As soon as the door had closed behind them, Blaine turned and crossed the room to the bedroom. He turned the handle, but frustratingly, it appeared that Kurt had locked the door. Feeling markedly more concerned he knocked quietly.
"Kurt?" he asked hesitantly. He pressed his ear to the door, and could hear Kurt's loud, pitiful wails of despair from inside the room. His call went unanswered so he tried again, louder and with a sharper knock on the door.
"G-go, go away!" cried Kurt.
"Kurt, baby, what happened?"
"Go away!" Kurt howled again, not answering him. Blaine's brow furrowed into a deep line of concern and worry: he hadn't heard Kurt cry like this in years.
"Baby, whatever it is, we'll fix it – please, just let me in…" He found himself pacing outside the door as he waited on tenterhooks for any response. "Please, Kurt…" After what felt like an eternity, the door opened as abruptly as it had closed and Kurt hauled him inside, seemingly endless tear tracks streaking his otherwise beautiful face. Blaine instinctively wrapped his arms around the younger man, leading him over to the bed. Blaine's phone rang loudly from where it had been abandoned on the coffee table in the living room. He ignored it.
"Shh; shh …" Blaine soothed softly, as Kurt curled up into his lap on the bed. His body wracked with sobs, and Blaine could feel the front of his thick red sweater getting damp as Kurt cried. Blaine held him, his touch light but firm, for several minutes, whispering what he hoped were comforting platitudes into his lover's ear. Usually when Kurt was upset he calmed down fairly easily, so Blaine was at quite a loss to understand the fact that, for the moment at least, Kurt appeared to be quite inconsolable. and wouldn't – or couldn't – tell Blaine what on Earth had happened. He distantly heard his phone ring insistently once again, and once more he ignored it.
"I - *hic*- I runjfb evrebn," Kurt mumbled, his face still buried in Blaine's chest.
"What?" Blaine asked softly. Kurt pulled his face back about an inch from Blaine's chest to enable him to express himself more clearly.
"I ruined everything," he whimpered dramatically, before becoming overwrought with a fresh round of sobs and burying his face yet again into Blaine's sweater.
Well, that makes everything very clear, Blaine thought to himself sardonically. He glanced up and saw the time of 4:12 blink at him from the clock on his nightstand, and slowly the reason for his boyfriend's upset began to dawn on him.
"Kurt…" he began tentatively. "Baby, you were supposed to work until 7 tonight. Did something happen at your internship?" Kurt began crying even harder at the mention of his job, confirming Blaine's theory, as his hands clawed almost painfully against Blaine's back, pulling him in as close as was possible. Until Kurt calmed down enough to be more coherent, there was little Blaine could do other than murmur soothing phrases and rub lightly on Kurt's back through his thick winter coat.
Finally Kurt's breathing regained some level of normalcy, and he pulled back from Blaine's chest once more. He wiped his eyes and even, amazingly, his nose with the sleeve of his coat, as Blaine looked on anxiously, waiting for Kurt to speak. Several tense moments passed in silence before Blaine couldn't contain himself any longer.
"Honey, what happened?" he asked a little desperately. Kurt hiccupped and looked up miserably at Blaine, he opened his mouth and closed it several times; seemingly unable to communicate whatever he wanted to say. Blaine's mind began searching for possibilities, hoping something he said would trigger Kurt to be able to tell him what on Earth was happening. "Did someone hurt you?" he ventured, searching Kurt's reddened eyes. Kurt shook his head in the negative and nodded yes at the same time, biting his lip in an attempt to keep it from trembling. Rage began bubbling in Blaine's heart – if someone had hurt Kurt…
Kurt took a slow, deep breath, and Blaine's phone beeped loudly from the other room, signaling the reception of a new voice message.
"I – I, I quit," confessed Kurt, his voice barely above a whisper. Blaine's eyes widened slightly in surprise – and also, were he to admit it, a little in relief. That didn't sound so bad to him. A different tone emitted from his phone as a text message arrived.
"Zeb…Zeb…" Kurt attempted to explain, his voice broken and trembling, "Zeb came on to me, and I-I rejected him." At this, he broke off to look at Blaine pleadingly, silently begging his boyfriend to believe him. Of course I believe you, thought Blaine silently. Kurt was the most loyal person he knew – always had been – and if Kurt was ever even tempted to be unfaithful, he fully believed that Kurt would stop it before things went that far and go talk to him, even if only to end their relationship. Kurt wouldn't cheat. Neither would Blaine.
"And, and, we argued and I – I quit," Kurt continued, still sobbing. "But, but now – oh God, Blaine: who's going to believe me? I've ruined everything. I'm never going to be able to find any work in fashion again!"
"Kurt; Kurt, that isn't true."
"You don't know that! You don't know anything about it, Blaine! Zeb promised that that was exactly what would happen as I stormed out," spat Kurt angrily, his whole body tensing. Blaine tried to keep calm: he was pissed at Zeb, not Kurt, and he needed to keep his tone in check even as his boyfriend lashed out at him.
"I'm sorry. You're right; I don't work in your field – but Kurt, sweetheart, you – you did the right thing, baby." Kurt hiccupped and Blaine could the muscles in his arms and back relaxing, if only a little.
"I know. I know I did, but I should have been able to handle it differently – better. Everything; everything I've worked so hard for all year is just ruined, just like that," moaned Kurt miserably, snapping his fingers together. Another beep signaling an incoming text reverberated through the living room. Whoever it was clearly really wanted to get a hold of Blaine, but he decided that they would just have to wait. He raised a hand to Kurt's face to wipe away a fresh stream of hot tears as Kurt turned his head up a little, leaning into Blaine's touch.
"I love you, Kurt. We'll figure this out. We always do," Blaine promised, leaning forward and gently pressing his lips to Kurt's, pulling him into a slow, tender kiss. After a moment, Kurt kissed him back, before pulling away and letting out a shaky breath.
"Promise?" he asked hopefully, his voice small and childlike. Knowing full well that he should not make promises he might not be able to keep, Blaine met Kurt's gaze confidently as a small, sad smile spread over his face.
"I promise."
2:08 PM
"You wanted to see me, Zeb?" Kurt asked curiously, holding his sketchbook and the note that he had found on his desk, requesting his presence in Zeb's office.
"Ah, yes, Kurt – come in please, and close the door," Zeb drawled, looking up from a thick stack of papers in one of the armchairs by his desk in the expansive office in the back of Marque Designs' studio. He gestured to the chair next to his and Kurt quickly sat down. He was a little confused and nervous – usually Zeb told him what he wanted before calling him into his office. Had he messed up somehow? "Kurt, I've been very impressed with your work lately," his boss informed him, crossing his legs and picking up his coffee mug to take a sip. Kurt felt himself flush: Zeb's moods were always so erratic, and one never knew if he was going to offer a generous compliment or a sharp criticism.
"Thank you, Zeb," he replied, trying to sound self-assured. He was self-assured, really: he had been working to the bone all year, and was confident he was putting out the best work he'd ever done; but something about Zeb always made him question himself.
"I can appreciate how hard you've been working for me since September. You've shown a great deal of potential with your technical skills and panache. You're going to make a fine designer some day."
"Thank you Zeb: that means a lot coming from you. I really don't know what to say…" Zeb leaned in closer to Kurt, placing his hand on the younger man's knee. Kurt's eyes widened slightly at the touch, but he didn't pull away. Zeb had always been a little physical, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders or arms to steer him when they were walking somewhere together, so maybe this was just another example of the same physicality.
"Succeeding in this business takes a near obsessive level of dogged determination and loyalty. You work harder than anyone else here: always responsive to my emails; staying late or coming in early if needed; being attentive to all my requests – and your loyalty has not gone unnoticed, by myself in particular." Zeb was smiling at him and Kurt tried to smile back, but there was something off about Zeb's smile – it was less of a grin and more of a…leer.
"I – I know: your gifts are always so generous…" Kurt recalled uncomfortably, remembering the handful of gift certificates and, one time, Broadway tickets, that Zeb had bestowed upon him over the course of his internship.
"That they are, and there is more to come. You are graduating in three months, Kurt. Marque Designs, and I, can take you places; offer you opportunities you could never dream of otherwise. The reason I've succeeded so greatly in this business is because I simply know what I want, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it…" His hand slid up Kurt's leg at this point, and Kurt found himself staring at the older man's hand, temporarily paralyzed. "Will you?" asked Zeb, his deep voice reduced to nothing more than a low growl. Suddenly, every nerve ending in Kurt's body seemed to react at once – he bolted upright into a standing position, Zeb's hand sliding smoothly from his pant leg.
"What exactly are you getting at, Zeb?" Kurt questioned, although he was sure of the answer, and it made his stomach turn. Zeb merely cocked an eyebrow at him in response. Kurt backed several feet away, eyeing the door.
"Don't play coy, Kurt. For a little twink you're smarter than that."
"I just wanted to design clothes," Kurt said quietly, to himself more than anything. Zeb stood up and, after just two steps with his long stride, was now just inches away from Kurt's face.
"Be a good boy, Kurt. No one says no to me…" Zeb sneered, something oily in his tone. Kurt's mouth opened in repulsion, and suddenly he felt like he might be sick.
"You're disgusting!" he yelled, raising his hands to push Zeb away from him forcefully, his eyes narrowing in anger and loathing. "You're nothing more than a sad excuse for a satyr in a thousand dollar suit! I can't believe I wasted five months toiling away trying to impress you with my talent. Well screw that, because I quit!" Zeb stared at him furiously for a moment, before he broke out in a slightly deranged smile and laughed aloud.
"Go ahead and quit: see if you find anyone else in this industry that will have you, you foolish little imp," scoffed Zeb viciously. "You'll be back. Everyone comes back."
"Yeah? Well Kurt Elizabeth Hummel is not 'everyone,' and you can go to Hell."
Kurt's heart pounded loudly in his ears as he took one last, disgusted look at his former supervisor; turned on his heel and bolted without another word.
Kurt couldn't think, couldn't feel, and couldn't really do anything. He barely avoided colliding with a woman on his way out the door from Marque Designs. His feet carried him on autopilot to the subway and back to his apartment. He missed Amy, the front desk clerk's friendly greeting entirely, as he passed her in the lobby of his building. The reality of what had just happened finally hit him as the elevator doors closed to take him up to the ninth floor, dread over what was to come seeping into his skin and settling deep in his bones. I've ruined everything. The thought played over and over again in his mind, blocking out everything else – even the fact that Blaine and four other people were sitting, stunned, around his coffee table.
4:16 PM
"I promise, Kurt: we'll figure something out." Kurt looked down at his hands sadly and began to pick at his nails, sighing heavily.
"I was getting credit for this internship and everything. Now it's going to fuck up my graduating in May."
"We'll – we'll go talk to your advisor about it – that's what they're there for, right; to advise?"
"They told us all at the beginning of the year: weare responsible for our internships, we need to maintain them, and weare supposed to be able to handle any bumps in the road."
"I don't think this is what they meant, Kurt…"
Blaine's phone rang noisily from the living room for the third time in 10 minutes. Already frustrated, Kurt let out an aggravated roar at the noise.
"Who IS that?" grumbled Kurt irritably.
"Lemme just go turn it off, okay?" offered Blaine. Kurt nodded and reluctantly let Blaine detach himself from his grasp. Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead lightly and whispered his love once more, before getting up and off the bed and walking into the living room.
Someone better be dead or something, thought Blaine darkly as he crossed the room and picked his phone up from the coffee table. Three missed calls, two new voice mails and three new text messages. All were from his friend, coffee house jam buddy and former college roommate, Amber Conti. What the hell?He opened the text message stream.
Amber Conti:Answer your phone.
Amber Conti:It's important Blaine. It's about Kurt. Answer your damn phone.
Amber Conti: Where the hell are you, B? Listen to my VMs when you get this. I was there. I heard everything. I want to help Kurt. CALL ME.
Blaine stared down at the row of messages, completely nonplussed. What; how? he questioned. With a shaky hand he pocketed his phone and walked into the kitchenette. It took him a few moments to remember Kurt occasionally mentioning seeing Amber at odd moments while he was working – he himself had only seen Amber two or three times this school year, her internship at Harpers Bazaar keeping her almost as busy as Kurt's job. Besides, it was tough for Blaine to keep in touch with his friends under the weight of law school.
He took a clean glass from their drying rack and filled it with water, before hurrying back to his and Kurt's bedroom. Kurt was sitting on the bed, looking relatively calm but still rather despondent. Tears were still fresh at the corners of his beautiful glasz eyes and his face was blotchy, but he tried to offer Blaine a watery smile as Blaine offered him the glass of water.
"Kurt, sweetheart, did you – did you see my friend Amber at your internship today?" Blaine asked hesitantly. Kurt's brow furrowed as he sipped.
"No….I don't think so, anyway. The only time I usually see her is at our monthly meetings with the fashion journalism people…" Kurt drifted off, deep in thought. "Wait – I did bump into someone on my way out from Zeb's office though, I think … maybe, I can't be sure … everything was so loud… but why do you ask?"
Blaine showed Kurt the thread of messages from Amber, causing Kurt's mouth to open in surprise.
"See, Kurt? Amber saw what happened and she said she wants to help…" Blaine explained somewhat hopefully. Kurt looked highly skeptical that Amber could actually help this seemingly hopeless (in his eyes) situation, but agreed to at least listen to Amber's voicemails nevertheless.
'Blaine! Answer your phone: it's me, Amber. Blaine, I need to talk to you! I was at Marque Designs today to deliver something from my boss to Zeb Marque and when I went by Zeb's office I heard him arguing with Kurt. Blaine, I think he was trying to hit on Kurt! You've gotta believe Kurt when he tells you he wanted nothing to do with it because he didn't. It was nasty, dude. I was just about to step in when Kurt left all of a sudden. I tried to call out to him but I don't think he could hear me…damn it, Blaine, just call me back.'
Kurt stared at the phone in surprise as the message ended. He had been so upset when he ran out of the office that he had barely registered coming into contact with someone on his way out the door. Now that he concentrated on it, a vague memory of a swatch of curly auburn hair flashed into his mind. He seriously doubted that Amber would be able to keep him from being held back for graduation, but maybe, just maybe she could keep him from getting blacklisted from the fashion industry when word got out that he had dared to quit on Zeb Marque.
"We should call her back," commented Blaine, while Kurt was temporarily distracted as he glanced down, aghast, at the front of Blaine's sweater and the sleeve of his winter coat, both of which were stained with tears and – horror of horrors – snot, from Kurt crying all over them. Lovely, thought Kurt.
"I ruined your shirt," he mumbled. Blaine resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. He instead peeled off the sweater and began unbuttoning Kurt's coat.
"We'll take them to the dry cleaner. We have bigger fish to fry now, okay babe? Let's call Amber." Kurt hiccupped again as he let Blaine remove the coat and lay it on the bed next to his discarded sweater.
"Okay." Blaine pulled Kurt back into his arms and put the phone, which was still set to speaker from when they listened to Amber's message, in Kurt's lap. He pressed the call button and after a moment it began to ring. Amber picked up on the second ring.
"Finally! Blaine, Blaine; I've gotta tell you –" Blaine interrupted her.
"I know, Amber; I know. Kurt's here with me now. We got your messages, I'm sorry I didn't pick up the phone sooner –" Amber cut him off abruptly in return.
"It's fine: never mind that now. Can you come to Harpers' main office? I can't get out of here until 6:30 at the earliest, and I wanna talk about how we're going to cream that douche-bag Zeb Marque."
Blaine pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's temple as his boyfriend let out a watery giggle at Amber's sharp words. He slid out from behind Kurt and opened their closet, quickly fumbling around for another sweater, his winter coat and a spare coat for Kurt.
"We're on our way Amber – and thank you," Blaine said loudly, making sure that the speaker phone would catch his words.
"It's nothing. Just get your butts down here. I gotta go, my boss is on the other line and she's gonna have a freakin' cow if I keep her waiting." The call quickly disconnected with a click.
"Let me just splash some water on my face and then we can go, okay?" Kurt asked as he stood up on still shaky legs.
"Yeah. I'll make some coffee in the Keurig that we can take with us on the bus over to Harper's'."
"I love you, Blaine," Kurt told him with a sniff.
"I love you too, Kurt, and I'm so proud of you."
Twenty minutes later, after a short ride on the M31 bus, Kurt and Blaine arrived at Harpers' Bazaar Magazine's Manhattan office, located in Hearst Tower.
Kurt, who had recovered greatly from his earlier meltdown and was now just rather pissed off at the situation he found himself in, took Blaine by the hand and strode inside and right up to the desk of the receptionist.
"Good afternoon gentlemen, where can I direct you?" the cheerful older woman inquired.
"We're looking for Amber Conti – she's an intern in the fashion journalism department with Harpers' Bazaar."
The receptionist directed them up to the main Harpers' office, and informed them that interns shared an office towards the back left of the floor. A quick elevator trip later, and the two entered the office in search of Amber.
"Yeah, well you can tell him he'd better come up with something a hell of a lot more innovative than asymmetrical zippers if he wants to have a featured editorial in the May issue," Ambers voice warned from behind a glass door. She spun around in her chair as Kurt and Blaine cautiously knocked on the door to the office, which was thankfully temporarily empty of other interns. "Frederico, honey; I gotta go – I'm being called into a meeting. I'll talk to you later. Ciao." She pressed a button behind her ear to disconnect her headset, offered the two boys a steely smile and stood up to let them in. "Blaine! God, I've missed you kid. I'm sorry we're meeting under such…argh-worthy circumstances," she joked as she gave Blaine a hug, followed quickly by Kurt. They followed her back into the office and took seats in the empty chairs near her desk, as she shut and locked the door behind them.
"It's nice to see you too, Amber. Thanks for offering your help." Kurt nodded in agreement with Blaine's sentiment.
"Well," she began, looking off to the side of the room, "you're my friend, and Kurt's not the first intern who's had to deal with dirtbag perv bosses like Zeb Marque."
"How much did you hear?" Kurt asked, feeling incredibly embarrassed.
"Enough. I was on my way into his office when I heard something about your 'loyalty to him' not going unnoticed," she recalled, scowling.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," admitted Kurt softly.
"Well I'll tell you what we're gonna do," she said confidently. "First we're gonna get this straightened out with your school, and then we're gonna nail his ass to the wall. If FIT is anything like Fordham, there will be some serious ethical infractions for Zeb Marque for even thinking about hitting on you, much less dangling your job and future success in front of you, dependent on your response to his… advances. That man always made my skin crawl," she continued, "and Blaine mentioned how he was working you into the ground all the time."
"Well the fashion industry is pretty cut-throat –" Kurt protested, before being cut off with a raised eyebrow.
"You think the fashion journalism industry isn't just as cut-throat? It is, but Zeb was totally over the line. Interns are supposed to be there to learn, not to be slaves or worker bees for free labor."
"I – I was thinking about calling my advisor to make an appointment to meet with her tomorrow," Kurt confessed, smiling softly at Blaine.
"Let me know what time and I'll go with you," offered Amber immediately.
"I don't want to mess up your schedule just because I screwed up."
"You did not screw up, Kurt," countered Blaine with a frown.
"In any case, you'll need someone to back up your story," reminded Amber, "and I'm happy to help. I don't work tomorrow and I only have class until 11, so as long as you make your appointment after that I'll be there."
"Thank you."
"Yeah, thank you Amber," seconded Blaine. He wondered for a second if Amber had ever thought about going to law school, since it certainly appeared as though she'd fit in.
"After we meet with your advisor and get that straightened out, we can see where we wanna go from there. I'd be happy to write a scathing exposé about the lecherous nature of one Zeb Marque, but we'd need more evidence than one conversation between you and him," mused Amber.
"Let's just see how tomorrow goes…" Kurt suggested, looking markedly calmer than Blaine had seen him since he came home that afternoon.
They talked for a while more, and after spending several minutes eviscerating Zeb Marque's character to satisfactory levels, the conversation drifted off as Blaine and Amber caught each other up on their lives. Before long, however, Amber's phone was ringing again, and she shot them an apologetic glance as they let themselves out so that she could speak with her boss, who was traveling in Milan at the moment.
"Kurt, honey, are you okay?" Blaine asked later that evening, as the two of them sat on the couch, looking at the TV but not really watching whatever trashy reality show was playing across the screen. Kurt opened his mouth, closed it, and thought for a moment before speaking.
"Yeah, I mean, I'm upset and I'm angry; but I'm not like what I was before. This just seems so sudden though. I keep thinking there was something I should have seen; something I should have known; some way I could have acted differently so that this wouldn't have happened."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Kurt," assured Blaine as he pulled Kurt in closer to him.
"I know that; it's just going to take a while to believe it. Ugh, the whole thing was just so scary and revolting…"
"You have no idea how much I want to march down there and beat the living daylights out of Zeb Marque," spat Blaine with a scowl."Just like when…" H drifted off suddenly and looked away. Kurt glanced up at him, confused.
"Just like when? What are you talking about?"
"I know things are different now, but what happened with you today reminded me of everything with Karofsky and the locker room kiss right after we first met," Blaine admitted, calling Dave by his last name for the first time in years. Kurt blinked in surprise.
"Oh. Honestly, I didn't even think of that. I can see why you did, of course, and what happened with Dave when we were in high school wasterrifying for me at the time – but when I could look back on it, after Dave and I made peace, I could accept that while he was totally out of line, that kiss was the result of a confused and desperate soul. Zeb, today, he was so…in control, demanding; entitled. Like he could just take anything he wanted and I owed it to him to go along…" The words fell from Kurt's lips like poison. Blaine shook his head in disgust at Zeb's actions, but he also couldn't help but be amazed at the inner strength of his lover. After all this time Kurt was still blowing him away.
"Can we talk about something else now? I'd really rather not think about having to deal with my advisor tomorrow." Blaine smiled warmly at his boyfriend.
"Anything you want, beautiful…"
"What's your favorite song from The Book of Mormon?" asked Kurt; referencing the last Broadway play they had seen together. Blaine pursed his lips, frowning in exaggerated thought.
"Hmm, that's a tough one, Kurt…"
The following morning, Kurt called his school's main directory line and was transferred to the office of his internship advisor, Helena Roosevelt. As the internships were almost entirely run by the students and whatever companies they were connected to, Kurt had only met with her once before – just at the beginning of the fall semester to fill out some paperwork. He made an appointment with the office secretary to meet with Ms. Roosevelt at 3pm that afternoon. Blaine texted Amber and she said she would meet them there.
Blaine offered to skip his morning class to stay home with Kurt, who didn't have any classes on Thursdays this semester, but Kurt assured him he was okay and was going to take the time to catch up on a little sleep and see if he could make plans to meet Mercedes and/or Rachel for lunch, as he hadn't seen them since returning early from the Christmas break. So, after another round of reassurances from Kurt, Blaine pulled on his winter coat and headed out into the snow.
Kurt tried to go back to sleep, but he was too restless thinking about the upcoming meeting with his advisor. What if she didn't believe him? What was he going to do if he couldn't graduate on time? He already had a pretty hefty pile of student loans waiting for him – the idea of having to pay for another year and trying to find another internship or taking extra classes made his heart sink. He thought about calling his parents, but decided he'd wait until after the meeting, so that when his dad flipped his lid about what had happened, Kurt would hopefully already have a plan. Having a plan always made him feel better.
Kurt settled on the plan of eating breakfast, turning up his latest Lady Gaga playlist to full blast and cleaning their apartment until it was a more reasonable time to ask Mercedes and Rachel to lunch.
Two hours later the apartment was spotless and Kurt had sent texts to both Mercedes and Rachel enquiring about lunch. Rachel had texted back immediately saying she was in rehearsal until four but would love a rain check. About ten minutes after that his phone beeped with a reply from Mercedes.
Mercedes:I'd love to, where and what time? Don't you have your internship tho?
Kurt:I'm not working today. Wanna meet at that little deli across the street from our old Yoga place, say noonish?
Mercedes: I'll see you there. Is everything okay? Don't you dare lie to Mama' Cedes…
Kurt shook his head at his phone and smiled. Even through text messages, Mercedes always seemed to be able to read him – almost as well as Blaine or his dad.
Kurt:No, but we can talk about it at lunch. I'm glad we're finally hanging out.
Mercedes: Me too. I'll see you soon.
Kurt straightened out their bookshelf, the contents of which had seemed to grow exponentially as soon as Blaine had begun law school, once more before picking out some finishing accessories for his outfit, pulling on his spare winter coat and putting the snot sweater and coat in a bag to take to the dry cleaners on the way to meet Mercedes for lunch.
After a guarantee, in writing, from the dry cleaner that Blaine's sweater and Kurt's winter coat would survive, Kurt made his way over to meet Mercedes. She waited for him just inside the door of the delicatessen, wearing a sleek black coat that was both flattering and utilitarian for the harsh New York winter. She studied his face as he entered the door.
"What happened?" she demanded instantly.
"Sheesh Mercedes; can we get our sandwiches first?"
"Do I need to kill the Warbler?"
"No, no, it's nothing like that. Blaine is just as wonderful as always."
Mercedes relented on her interrogation long enough for them to order their lunch and sit down at a booth. She looked at Kurt expectantly, so Kurt sighed and launched directly into a retelling of what had occurred the day before. Thankfully she let him speak from start to finish without interruption. Mercedes and Kurt both loved the playful banter and constant interruptions that usually peppered their conversations, but after several years of best-friend-hood each knew when to just sit and listen.
"…so now I'm just killing time until Blaine, Amber and I have to go talk to my advisor and she can tell me I'm not going to graduate on time…" he finished, picking at his sandwich.
"The nerve of that guy!" seethed Mercedes angrily as she took in all Kurt was saying. "I'm so proud of you for standing up to him Kurt; divas like us just cannot tolerate that kind of nonsense. That man must be some kind of fool to think his cock and bull routine was going to fly with you."
"Indeed. I was really upset about it yesterday, and I'm still upset now, but I'm more angry than hurt anymore." Mercedes' scowl relented a bit and she placed her hand on top of Kurt's.
"I'm sure it'll all work out." Kurt smiled back at her.
"I hope so." Having finished the long tale, Kurt realized he had neglected to inquire about how Mercedes was doing lately. That needed to be corrected immediately. "Thank you for listening, but 'Cedes how are you?"
"Other than the fact Quinn has officially turned into Bridezilla, I'm fine. So glad to be graduating in May – and oh! I forgot to tell you, I have an audition for a commercial next month." Kurt's face lit up in delight.
"Really? That's amazing. Where? Doing what?" he demanded hurriedly. She grinned back at him.
"It's for a toothpaste commercial. I'm really excited about it."
"I'm sure you'll nail it."
"Never doubt the chocolate thunder."
"I wouldn't dare."
"In fact, if it weren't for Quinn's obsessive wedding planning – and singing; she won't shut up – everything would be going grand. School is good; Jay and I are good; hopefully this audition goes well…I just want to murder Quinn in her bed every night; no big deal."
"Is she really that bad?" Kurt asked, his upper lip curling, as he could imagine that she was.
As if on cue. the doors to the delicatessen chimed open once more and after a moment the pleasant, commercial singing voice of one Quinn Fabray filled the small space.
Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married.
Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married.
Gee, I really love you and we're, gonna get married.
Goin' to the chapel of love.
"Lord, how did she find me?" groaned an exasperated Mercedes as Quinn, oblivious, paid for her apple juice and waved towards their table, turning to join them. "I play one Motown record in our apartment, and now am forever punished by hearing that song morning, noon and night."
"Kurt! Mercedes! Hi!" said Quinn excitedly as she pulled up a chair to join them.
"Hi Quinn," replied Kurt. "How are you?"
"How am I? I am fantastic. I just got done looking at flowers for my wedding and…" She delved into a very enthusiastic reminiscence of her trip to the florist. Kurt, who loved planning weddings, or any formal occasion really, joined in the conversation whole heartedly, but he couldn't help but smile sympathetically at Mercedes who looked like she was calling upon all her inner strength not to deck her roommate right then and there.
"…And Kevin and I agree that we should move before the wedding so we're not going crazy trying to find a place at the last minute," she finished breathlessly, having moved on from flower choices to the newly chosen reception location and then on to her and Kevin's future home.
"So is Kevin going to move in with you and Mercedes, or are you going to move to his place or…what are you guys going to do?" Kurt asked curiously. Mercedes, upon hearing her name, looked up from her iPhone game of Angry Birds.
"We're still trying to figure that out actually. Jay and I have been talking a lot about the possibility of moving in together, and Quinn and Kevin want to move in together of course – but there is no way the four of us are going to live in our tiny little place." Quinn nodded.
"Yeah, that just wouldn't be a good idea. Mercedes' and my lease is up for renewal at the end of May, just like Kevin and Jay's, so we need to figure it out before then. I really don't want to rush anything: I haven't the time to look for apartments right now between my Miss New York duties, school and planning our wedding, but I want our new place to be perfect." Kurt was suddenly struck with an idea that just might solve a dilemma he and Blaine could be facing come summer.
"You know…" he began, "Blaine applied to a couple of summer associate jobs in D.C. this summer – we're still waiting to hear back, but if he does get one he and I will probably spend the summer in D.C."
"You don't want to be in New York for the summer?" Mercedes asked, looking slightly hurt.
"I love New York, and I love the extra time the summer allows me to spend with all of you guys," he assured her. "But after all the craziness of this year, frankly I think I could use a little break from the big apple. Which leads me to my idea…Quinn – If Blaine and I weren't here for the summer we'd need someone to sublet our place because I absolutely do not want to give up that apartment, or have Blaine pay rent for something we're not using. Would you and Kevin be interested in subletting it from us so you could have some extra time to look for permanent apartments with Kevin over the summer?" Both young women broke out in wide grins at this prospect.
"If you and Kev moved into Kurt and Blaine's place. Jay could move in with me in ours right away!" Mercedes observed excitedly.
"Oh Kurt you're a genius, that would be amazing – we wouldn't have to deal with any lease issues and I wouldn't have to worry about settling on some hovel to live in simply for the sake of time!" Quinn agreed.
"Well, it's all dependent on whether Blaine is offered a job outside the city, but he should find out about it soon – thankfully summer jobs for law students have quite a speedy turn around as far as application status – and Gaga knows I'd rather sublet to you guys then some stranger…" mused Kurt with a wince as he pictured various vaguely ill-intentioned people wandering about his living room.
"Keep me posted, because having that hiccup figured out would make my life so much easier – I'd finally be able to really focus on my wedding plans..." Quinn told him dreamily.
"If this isn't focusing, I shudder to think what does qualify," grumbled Mercedes under her breath.
"Hi, my name is Kurt Hummel and I have an appointment with Helena Roosevelt," Kurt stated slightly nervously as Blaine and Amber stood behind him in the FIT internship office.
"Yeah, ok, Kurt Hummel, got it – she'll be ready for you in just a minute," the secretary replied.
A few minutes later a middle aged woman with sandy hair pulled into a tight bun poked her head out into the lobby and called Kurt into her office. Blaine gave Kurt a reassuring squeeze, and Amber said she'd be ready whenever Kurt needed her, if he needed her at all.
"I see you brought…guests," observed the advisor as Kurt sat down. Kurt wasn't sure how to reply, and the woman apparently didn't expect him to, as she quickly spoke again. "Typically our students show a little more…independence at this level, so may I ask what brings you to my door today?"
"Well, well you see I've been interning with Zeb Marque of Marque Designs since early September and…" Kurt quickly explained the problems he had encountered with Zeb, including, but not entirely limited to, the other man's sexual harassment of him.
"That's a very serious accusation you're making Mr. Hummel," his advisor stated sternly as he finished. Kurt shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair he had been offered.
"I understand that – I wouldn't make something like this up," he reasoned. She sighed.
"Sometimes the pressure of the semester becomes simply too much for a student to bare, and they begin looking for an escape route…things happen, people say things they don't really mean," she ventured. Kurt called upon every ounce of patience he possessed not to bite the woman's head off for her veiled accusation. "Unfortunately for such students," she continued, studying him through her bifocals, "as you know we do not customarily give out single semester credits for an uncompleted internship – so quitting now would be most foolhardy if you desire to graduate on time."
"I'm aware, but I'm telling you the truth Ms. Roosevelt," he sighed, feeling heavier by the second. "Amber Conti - my boyfriend's friend and an intern with Harpers' Bazaar - accidentally heard the whole thing."
"Your boyfriend's friend you say? Not exactly the best witness Mr. Hummel. Zeb Marque has an excellent reputation, and comes highly recommended." She opened her desk drawer and pulled out two files – one labeled FIT16Hummel, and the other, FIT-DSRMarq. She opened Kurt's first and flipped through it. "Hmm, though I see you also come highly recommended – I hadn't realized you were the same student whose work was spotlighted at the showcase last July – very nice."
"Thank you," Kurt acknowledged her politely, hoping that this conversation was perhaps taking a turn for the better. Ms. Roosevelt paused to push up her glasses higher up on her long nose before closing Kurt's file and opening Zeb's. She leafed through the first few pages.
"Yes, yes, all good things – his work quality, level of nuance and innovation; like I said – an excellent reputation," she observed, continuing to look through Zeb's file. "…studied at the fashion institute in Paris, signed a development deal with…wait just a moment." She broke off and began scanning the page in front of her."Would you … Mr. Hummel, would you mind stepping outside for a moment?" she finally asked a minute later.
"Um, sure thing…" he replied, feeling small and stupid for thinking this would help.
Amber and Blaine looked up at him expectantly from the lobby as he reentered the room but he just threw up his hands.
"I have no idea…she just asked me to leave for a minute." Kurt sat down in the seat next to Blaine, and let Blaine take his hand and rub circles into the palm. After several moments the door to Ms. Roosevelt's office opened once more.
"Miss – Amber, is it? Would you be so kind as to join me in my office?" she asked. Amber gave Kurt a reassuring thumbs-up and squared her shoulders before walking the short distance and disappearing behind Ms. Roosevelt's door.
The minutes ticked by. Kurt tried to remain optimistic, but worries about the possibility of this trip somehow coming back to bite Amber, who was trying to help, in the ass flitting through his mind. He tried to smile at Blaine but his gaze was faltering and unsure. Seeing his distress, Blaine leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Kurt's.
"It'll be okay."
"I hope so."
"Mr. Hummel?" The slightly stiff voice of Ms. Roosevelt broke the silence of the room and Kurt looked up at her. Amber poked her head out from behind the advisor and grinned at Kurt. Kurt glanced at Blaine once more before standing up and rejoining Amber and Ms. Roosevelt in the small office.
"Mr. Hummel, I'm not sure if you are aware, but this is my first year serving as the advisor for senior internships…" she began, clasping her hands together. Kurt looked at her blankly as he waited for her to continue. Where was this going? "When I was hired, just days before the start of term, I was more concerned about filing everyone's paperwork correctly rather than thoroughly investigating the files of each of our approved internship locations and supervisors."
"Um…" Kurt began unsurely when she paused once more.
"It would appear that I owe you a most sincere apology, Mr. Hummel. Just now I had the opportunity to look at Zeb Marque's file beyond the first page, and it would appear that over the past five years of being an internship supervisor, Zeb Marque has had three other sexual harassment complaints filed against him. It is beyond me why my predecessor neglected to rescind Mr. Marque's approval as an internship supervisor, and I am also appalled that it would appear that though the complaints were filed with this office, nothing ever came of them."
"So…so, you believe me?" Kurt asked hesitantly.
"Yes. In light of the past evidence, what you told me, and the fact that a witness backs up your story, there is little doubt in my mind that Mr. Marque's actions were quite unethical."
"So, what happens now?"
"Well…" she began, pushing her glasses up her nose once more. "It is true that we customarily do not grant students credit for the partial completion of their internships…" She raised a hand to quiet Kurt as he opened his mouth to protest. "However, since you were not at fault for your internship ending, I am going to request that you receive credit for your time last semester."
"What about this semester? I'll be three credits short of graduating if I don' receive credit for this semester and it's February – all the other classes have started." She frowned at him, deep in thought.
"To penalize you in response to this incident would be most troubling. I will need to speak to the Dean but I will do my best to create a suitable alternative so that you are able to graduate on time, though I cannot make any guarantees. I need to make some calls, but I will be in touch. Are you interested in taking legal action against Mr. Marque?"
"N-no, I don't think so, I just don't want any other students sent to him."
"Alright, please let me know if you change your mind and rest assured Mr. Hummel, this school will never employ Mr. Marque as an internship supervisor again as long as I have anything to say about it."
"Good." Kurt paused and looked up at the woman: despite her stern demeanor, he could tell that behind her glasses she had kind crinkly eyes. "Thank you for believing me, Ms. Roosevelt."
"You did the right thing Mr. Hummel, and I applaud your courage."
Kurt and Amber left Ms. Roosevelt's office soon after and brought Blaine up to speed on the way out of the university. After thanking Amber once more for all of her help the two young men said goodbye and Amber left to hop on the subway towards her house in Jersey City.
Two days, and a lot of nail biting later, Kurt's cell phone rang. Ms. Roosevelt informed him that the school had rescinded Zeb's approval as an internship supervisor, had contacted the past students offering apologies for not taking actions regarding their complaints – and that FIT would be filing a formal complaint against Marque Designs with the City of New York, ensuring that no other students from any other colleges would ever be able to have internship agreements with Marque Designs again. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as she continued, letting him know that a former professor of his (and Kurt's personal favorite professor) Melinda Bosworth had, upon learning of the graduation dilemma, offered Kurt a three credit independent study with her if Kurt was interested.
Kurt told Ms. Roosevelt that yes; of course, he was interested in the independent study and would contact Professor Bosworth straight away to hash out the details. She thanked him once more for bringing this to her attention and told him just to let her know if there was anything else she or FIT could do to mollify the situation. Kurt was just glad he wouldn't have to see Zeb again, and relieved that it appeared he would be able to graduate on time after all.
"So it's over?" Blaine asked later that evening after Kurt filled him in between bites of endive salad and grilled tuna.
"Yeah, I talked to Melinda and she's going to let me have an independent study where I can pick any type of clothing, do research and design a small collection of pieces devoted to it. I picked scarves."
"I'm sure it'll be wonderful, Kurt," Blaine assured, leaning forward to give Kurt a quick peck. Aare you sure you're okay with the idea of spending the summer in D.C.? You'll have just graduated and it isn't exactly the fashion capital of the world…"
"I'm sure. Nothing tops New York City for fashion, don't get me wrong, but I did a little research on D.C. and there is more going on fashion-wise there than you might think … plus, I am really looking forward to getting a little break from the city that doesn't include spending my summer in Lima."
"Okay," agreed Blaine hesitantly. He stood up from the table and crossed the kitchenette to pull an envelope from his messenger bag. "Because…I was offered a job as a summer associate with the American Civil Liberties Union…" Kurt's eyes lit up and he leapt to his fee.
"Really! Blaine, honey, that's wonderful!" He pulled his boyfriend into a tight hug.
"The envelope came in the mail the day everything went down with Zeb, but I only opened it this afternoon."
"I'm so proud of you honeybee." Blaine kissed him.
"I'm proud of us." Kurt grinned broadly and motioned with his hands dramatically.
"Hey D.C. – Kurt and Blaine are comin' your way!" he giggled in a sing-song voice, referencing one of his favorite musicals, Gypsy.Blaine laughed as well, and wrapped his arms around the slightly taller man once more.
"Let's get through the rest of the school year first," he suggested with a wink. Kurt looked slightly deflated but smiled anyway.
"Right. Graduation first – and then, our nation's capital!" Blaine looked up at his lover as Kurt ruffled Blaine's hair. Yeah, he thought, Kurt's going to be just fine.
I know, I know. Angst AND no smut? What is wrong with me? I thought about including some, but it just didn't' fit in with the story line at all and though I may write Klaine smut scenes with a focus more on naughty actions rather than 'oh darling make love to my soul' romance (oh god was that as uncomfortable for you as it was for me? Yikes) – I just couldn't reason that Kurt OR Blaine was really in the mood during the Zeb Marque Showdown. Thankfully, the Zeb storyline has pretty much reached its crescendo and I think smut/fluff lovers will be very pleased with the next several chapters - BUT I have not forgotten about Amber's "nail him to the wall" comment, and neither has she, Kurt, Detroit or Gil...
Credit for the confrontation scene goes to inspiration from the movie Legally Blonde, and the song Quinn sings is "Going to the Chapel" by the Dixie Cups. I own neither, which I'm sure is *shocking*
One last thing – I am very pleased to announce that I now have a tumblr! I have *NO* idea how tumblr works but I'm figuring it out! It's silly that links don't work here – but if you remove the brackets and spaces you can find me at [blurtitoutalready] [.] [tumblr] [.] [com]. I'll be posting the story there as well as here from now on, my own random life observations and…if there is interest tidbits of ITT info, spoilers and extras that don't find their way into the main story. Follow Me?
Review button is below lovelies. OH – October 4th, 2016. Remember that date.
