BLAINE ANDERSON: BLAINE'S APARTMENT: FRIDAY EVENING

He had had an awful week. There was no other way of saying it.

Monday had already brought on troubles at work, both with his own case and the case he was helping Mr. Hayworth with. Yes, he'd been surprised on Saturday when he'd received a phone call from him. He hadn't thought he'd hear from him at all, given how the end of their last encounter had gone. He had been wrong, and on Monday it turned out that the case had gotten several complications over the weekend under Hayworth's care.

Blaine had been the one who had to go and talk to Wes. He'd explained the complications and Wes scolded him for giving the case to a newbie. There was no other way of describing it. He couldn't have kept it from Wes, not when the Brewman client had gone to the press claiming that Guy & Anderson's had discriminated him. It was most likely because of Blaine sending a newbie to him. The company was hit, and damage control had to be made. So he'd needed to talk to Wes.

The thing had left him in a bad mood, and it didn't help when Annalise started arguing with him. It was the stupidest thing, really. He knew, deep down, that spoiling her would only ruin her in the end. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when she had come to him for money because she had maxed out her credit card. The card with a $2000 limit. He had trusted her, but how much could you trust a twelve year old?

He had thought it had been a good idea in case of emergency to give her that much responsibility. While spoiling her, it would assure that she wasn't careless with money. The statements went to him, and he made a monthly check so that she didn't spend more than their decided amount. She had refused to return the brand clothes she thought she needed, and he hadn't given her more money. They hadn't spoken since. Many times had he tried to go to her to apologize, tell her that they were being silly wasting their week together by not speaking. But every single time he realized that he didn't have anything to apologize for. He also told himself that if Annalise hadn't apologized by the time he'd come home on Friday, he would talk to her. He didn't want her to leave him on bad terms. What if she would speak badly of him to Kurt, or complain about him? He didn't want that.

On Thursday he had had to fire Hayworth, and it hadn't been easy. Hayworth demanded that the turn of the case hadn't been his fault, that he couldn't have foreseen it happening. Sure, it no way reflected his work, but the company needed to distance itself from everything about the case. There was a chain of events that had to happen: Hayworth would be fired, Wes would go public with an announcement that they had done nothing but treat their client well, and then he and Blaine would work together against Brewman. His lawsuit against them was weak at best. How could a person be such an idiot anyway? Anyone who thought he could win a lawsuit against a law firm full of excellent lawyers could not have been in their right mind.

Also on Thursday, late at night, he broke up with Justin. Yes, it was tacky of him to break up over the phone and all, but he figured it would be alright given the nature of their relationship. They'd known each other a few months but most of their relationship had been consisting of phone calls, phone sex, and actual sex. There had been little actual dating, a very little feelings involved. At least, so he had thought. It turned out that Justin didn't take the break up quite so well. Justin had been calling him every other hour since then with some new reason why Blaine couldn't possibly have been serious.

So on Friday, when he finally got home exhausted and beat, he was surprised and disheartened at finding the apartment empty. It was nearing six o'clock, but Annalise wouldn't have gone to Kurt's without him, would she?

The apartment smelled like food he realized when he removed his shoes and coat. When he entered the kitchen, he saw a small, black box lying on the counter. Frowning, he went up to it and put aside his briefcase. There was a small, folded note on top of the box. He read it immediately.

Daddy,

I'm so sorry about our fight. I was wrong. I returned all the clothes like you told me to. I do want you to trust me, I was wrong to do what I did and I feel terrible. I bought you something to make up for it. I also made you dinner, because you've looked like you could need to relax for a bit.

I won't be home when you get here, I'll be sleeping over at Clara's and heading to Kurt's in the morning. I've already talked to him about it and he said it was okay. I'll call you tomorrow when I get there so we can talk.

Love you,

your Annie.

P.s. I used my own money, not your credit card.

Smiling, Blaine felt a heavy weight lift off his shoulders. He was still exhausted, but he felt a little better. He put the note aside, and opened the box and peered inside. He took out the things wrapped in paper, and smiled when he saw the set of neatly folded sweatpants with matching t-shirt.

Annalise knew him too well. He didn't wait with shrugging out of his constricting suit and putting on the comfy-looking clothes. He'd been right, the clothes felt absolutely amazingly soft against his skin. He noticed that the price tags had been cut off already, but he didn't mind. It was a good fit. He tied the silky straps of the gray sweats and headed into the dining room.

The first thing he noticed was the wine bottle on the table. It was the bottle he'd had for as long as he could remember. He had been saving it for a special occasion.

Shaking his head to himself, he grabbed the bottle and headed into the kitchen. But he stopped, and looked at the bottle. The etiquette was starting to peel at the edges, and the whole bottle had traces of dust on it. Suddenly it didn't seem important anymore, to save it for a special day. When would that day come, anyway? It hadn't for as long as he'd kept it.

He returned into the dining room, bottle still in hand. He might regret it later, but right now he could use a drink.

Removing the lid to the casserole on the table, he smelled the wonderful ratatouille Annie had made for him. It was still hot, and plenty to go around. He wouldn't have to cook for days with all this food at hand.

A sound rang through his apartment then. He stared up, realizing it was the doorbell. Who could it be? Had Annie decided to see him anyway?

He put the lid back on, trudging out to the hallway. When he peered through the peephole, he became confused. He unlocked the door and stared dumbly at Kurt.

"Hi?"

Kurt smiled breathlessly. "Hey, where's my girl?" He walked past Blaine into the apartment.

"She didn't tell you?" Blaine asked, closing the door.

"Tell me what?" Kurt countered, immediately suspicious.

"She's staying over at Clara's tonight."

"What?"

"She said she talked to you about it," Blaine said with a shrug.

"No... She didn't." Kurt shook his head, gazing around the apartment as if Blaine was stashing her somewhere. "I don't- she called me like ten minutes ago to tell me I could pick her up at your place."

"Are you sure? That's weird."

"Of course I'm sure," Kurt snapped.

"Sorry, I didn't..." Blaine sighed, running a hand over his throbbing head.

"Are you okay?"

Blaine looked up, not sure what to say. Though he knew that Kurt wouldn't want to stand in his hallway and listen to all his problems.

"Just fine."

"Okay, well." Kurt walked toward the door. "I'll call her when I get home just to be sure. Thanks for... letting me know."

"Actually," Blaine said, making Kurt stop. "Annie made me a whole bunch of food... It's still hot. If you want to."

"Stay for dinner?" Kurt asked, his eyes going wide. He watched as Blaine nodded, searching his face. For a second, his eyes traveled down his body before darting straight back up. "Um, sure. Yeah."

Blaine went into the kitchen to grab another plate while Kurt removed his outdoor clothes.

"Would you like some wine?" Blaine called toward the hallway, grabbing an extra glass.

Kurt appeared in the kitchen, dressed in shades of blue. Blaine smiled when he noticed the scarf Kurt was wearing. It was navy blue with abstract white patterns on it and it was full of memories. Blaine had always wondered if Kurt had kept it or not after the divorce, and it turned out he had. It made him glad, because it had been a really expensive birthday present from him. He remembered how Kurt always wore it, especially when trying to hide hickeys from Burt.

He blushed when Kurt caught him staring at him.

"Sure," Kurt said slowly.

Blaine took the glass into the dining room and Kurt followed closely behind. He tried not to think about how much it felt like they were on a date, because they weren't. They were just two adults having dinner that their daughter made for them, in a dark room where the table was decorated with tall candles waiting to be lit.

Kurt sat down where Blaine had put a plate out for him while Blaine fiddled with the corkscrew and the wine bottle. When he finally succeeded, Kurt held his glass out and watched as rich red liquid flowed into the glass.

"Thank you," Kurt said, putting the glass down without having a taste.

Blaine hummed, pouring some for himself before sitting down at the short end of the table.

"Shouldn't you light those?" Kurt asked, his eyes fixed on the unlit candles.

"Um, yeah." Blaine found the box of matches thoughtfully left out on the table and struck fire to one just as Kurt's eyes started traveling around the room.

When he'd lit all the candles he sat back down. Kurt watched him the whole time.

"Would you like to begin?" Blaine asked, removing the lid from the pot.

"Smells good, what is it?"

"Ratatouille. I have no idea who she learnt how to cook it from. It was definitely not from me."

The dinner was... strange for the lack of a better word. They didn't speak much, only exchanged comments here and there. Blaine kept trying to come up with things to say, but he didn't succeed. He couldn't think of one thing they had in common.

"It's funny," Kurt said after a moment of silence. He was looking at his wine glass, twirling the dark liquid around and around in the oval glass. "I can't remember the last time you and I saw each other when no one else was around."

"I do," Blaine said quietly, remembering the night in the stairwell when everything had gone so wrong.

"Was that really the last time? It seems like so long ago."

Blaine looked up from his plate and saw Kurt watching him.

"It was a long time ago."

Kurt nodded solemnly, putting down his glass. "I'm sorry, Blaine."

"Kurt, you don't have to-"

"I know." Kurt took the napkin from his lap and placed it on the table. "I'm not sorry about what I said that night. I meant all of it. I'm just sorry it had to end that way." He placed a hand upon Blaine's, locking their gazes. "What we had... it meant the world to me, and I'm sorry it had to end that way."

Blaine nodded, because he understood. But he disagreed. A smile grew on his lips.

"Annie has made me watch Supernatural, even though I think she is far too young to watch that show." He tried to remember the episode they had watched this week, when they hadn't been speaking. "'No doubt, endings are hard. But nothing ever really ends, does it?'" He watched Kurt's face, making sure he understood. "What I mean is... No matter what happened all that time ago, it wasn't the end. We didn't split ways, and we have Annie to thank for that. It was the end of our relationship, but it's not the end: we're here now. And we're not fighting anymore, so that counts for something right?"

Kurt nodded, finally smiling too. "I think we have Annie to thank for a lot of things. Annalise, I mean."

Blaine raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on it. He'd never heard Kurt call their daughter anything but Annalise, especially not the nickname he always used.

"What brought this dinner on, anyway?" Kurt asked, changing the topic.

"I had a fight with Annie this week. I guess it was her way of saying sorry."

"Oh." Kurt sipped his wine. "Was it bad?"

"Pretty bad. But it's okay now, I think." He poked his fork through the last piece of food on his plate. He didn't think he could eat another bite.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, his face masked with concern.

"Yeah, I am. It's just been a crappy week, that's all."

"Oh yeah?"

"Work was a bother," Blaine said and shrugged. "A stupid client that never should have been our client in the first place had I not screwed up."

"I heard about that on the news. The guy seems like a whack job if you ask me." Kurt smiled crookedly, a small dimple appearing on one of his cheeks.

"He is totally whack. Who else would sue a law firm?" Blaine scoffed. "I bet that when we have the first meeting he's just gonna stand up and plead the fifth without even knowing what it means and completely disregarding that we're not in court and that he hasn't even been called a witness. I'm not worried about him: he's seen too many TV shows to win anything. It's just unnecessary stress."

Blaine silenced. He took a sip from his wine and kept it in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed.

"And there was another thing too," he said dismissively, putting his glass down.

"What other thing?"

"I broke up with the guy I was seeing." He shrugged.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said sincerely.

"It's okay. It felt like the right thing to do. If only he'd leave me alone now."

Kurt chuckled. "Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing. I'm being so rude. So why did you do it?"

Blaine watched Kurt, but saw nothing but honest curiosity.

"You know, it's how relationships always end up sooner or later. It ends because I find out they're not as interesting as I initially thought they were, or I just can't be with them anymore when I realize that they're not-" You. They're not you.

Blaine shot up from his seat, his napkin falling to the floor together with his stomach. Both dropped equally fast, and he felt as if he was going to throw up.

"Excuse me, I have to… I need to…"

He turned on his heel, escaping into the darkness of his living room. He leaned his forehead against the tall windows, exhaling slowly. He always felt safe there, like the world was at his reach yet the glass separating him from it made it unable to touch him.

But he heard the footsteps following him into the room, and his breathing wouldn't steady.

"You shouldn't lean against the glass," Kurt said softly. "It stains and you'll have to wash them all the time. You have an amazing view, by the way. I've never really realized. I'm practically on ground floor, so…"

He sighed and brought a hand up to Blaine's back and caressed it in circular motions.

"What's wrong?"

Blaine closed his eyes, feeling the cold of the glass against his skin. It comforted him; it grounded him.

"Everything is a mess, it's just too much-" He started shaking his head, leaning away from the window. Kurt's hand dropped from his back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be dumping all my problems on you. I've made you listen to enough already."

"Hey, don't do that," Kurt protested when Blaine tried to escape. He grabbed hold of his arm, stilling him and making him face him. "You're not a burden, okay? Don't act like your feelings don't matter, because they do."

Before Blaine realized what was happening, Kurt had him pulled into a hug. His arms were tight around him, and it felt so good.

"I just miss it," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's shoulder. "How easy it was back when we were together."

Kurt pulled back just enough to give him a glare.

"Are you kidding me? We were in such deep financial trouble that we considered moving in with my dad in Ohio because we were so desperate."

"I didn't mean that," Blaine said quickly. "I meant emotionally. I always feel like an emotional wreck these days."

He hadn't heard it until then, but he swore that the stereo had somehow turned itself on and started playing a song that slowly grew louder and louder.

Blaine pulled away from Kurt, his eyebrows pulled together. He came up to the stereo and got perplexed when he looked behind it. Why had it been set on a timer?

But then he really heard it. Because the song was growing louder, and he knew that song all too well. It must have started out really softly, because it was already on the second verse. Blaine stared at the stereo dumbly, and when he turned he saw that Kurt was staring at the stereo as if it had grown three heads and started singing Jingle Bells in German.

Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste. It all revolves around you.

Oh. Oh no.

And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide.

Blaine moved to the front of the stereo quickly, his hands starting to shake. Where was the freaking pause button anyway? Pause, stop, off, anything?

Sing out this song and I'll be there by your si-

Blaine froze when the music finally stopped. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and the room was suddenly too still. He shut his eyes hard. He didn't want to see, he didn't want to hear, and he didn't want to feel.

But he heard Kurt's footsteps once more, walking closer to him, and he felt the hand placed on his tense upper arm, the fingers of which slowly trailed upward to disappear under the hem of his shirt sleeve.

He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. Kurt's face was only an inch from his, his mouth hanging open and his eyes almost closed.

When Kurt's lips pressed delicately to his, he forgot how to breathe.

He turned around in Kurt's arms, his hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Their lips moved gently in a kiss that was so much like all of those he vaguely remembered from a decade ago, yet so new and different.

He pulled back after a moment, and he saw that Kurt looked just as wrecked as he felt. He tangled his hand in Kurt's messed-up hair and brought their lips together fiercely. Kurt pressed his body against him, every inch of them touching. Blaine moaned and started to feel heat pooling in his stomach.

Kurt pressed against him so desperately that he bumped Blaine into the stereo. He must have hit the play button with his butt or something because the music resumed.

However, the two couldn't have cared less about it at that moment.

Blaine pushed Kurt toward the couch, crawling on top of him. Kurt immediately started tugging at the hem of his shirt, and he raised his arms to let Kurt pull it over his head.

Cold air hit his skin, but it was quickly replaced by warm hands and an even warmed mouth sucking on his nipple.

"Oh God, Kurt." Blaine threw his head back and thrust his hips against Kurt's. "What are we doing?"

Kurt pulled his head back and let a hand trace over Blaine's round butt covered in soft, gray fabric. He squeezed the flesh in his hand, pushing Blaine's hips against his own experimentally.

He groaned loudly, closing his eyes. "I don't know, but please don't stop."

Blaine placed both his hands on Kurt's cheeks, placing a slow, delicate kiss to his lips. He pulled away just barely, so that his lips tickled Kurt's when he spoke.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

After Kurt nodded, they untangled themselves from each other and walked into the adjacent room hand in hand. Blaine shut the door behind them before he was all over Kurt again.

He thought that he wouldn't take his hands off of Kurt again for the rest of the night. And he didn't.

After their first time, they lay on their backs next to each other. Nothing of their bodies touched except for their arms. They stared up at the ceiling, their minds no doubt having a hard time encompassing everything that had happened and all that it meant. They probably labeled it a mistake in their heads: something that would be suppressed and forgotten in due time.

After the second time, when they lay cuddled up against each other with Blaine's head against Kurt's chest, they thought that what they were experiencing was just a reminiscent of the past. It was just a second try at something that had been amazing the first time. If nothing else, then they had owed it to each other to find out if the second time could be just as incredible as the first.

After the third time, when they had ended up on a blanket on the floor, they blamed the food and the wine. But most of all, they blamed their loneliness: Blaine blamed the void in his heart and Kurt blamed the fact that he hadn't gotten laid for five months.

But as they lost count that night, touching each other with a fever and desire that wouldn't subside even as they reached the early hours of the night, they were out of ways of explaining it to themselves. They tried all they could, but they couldn't come up with anything else.

They didn't have anything left to blame.

Eeeek. I'm sorry ok? As soon as I have to write something smutty I just freeze and nothing good comes out.

Anyhow... that was the long-awaited (at least on my part) chapter 14!

Hope you enjoyed!