Kurt goes to bed feeling immensely frustrated. When Blaine had asked to kiss him, he had assumed he meant a proper kiss which he would have happily accepted, even though they were in public. However, the brief, soft kiss on his cheek had set his heart racing, made that heat inside of him flare up again, and left him reeling. Then he figures that's probably how Blaine wanted him to feel, and then he's annoyed at himself for doing so.

He sleeps on the couch once more, waking at every creak of the floorboards but even though he's tired, he has a smile on his face and a spring in his step when morning arrives and he heads to the bathroom to take a shower.

He's just washing his hair, and contemplating bursting into song, when he hears a noise, and freezes. "Uh...hello?" he calls out in a voice which wavers with fear.

"Kurt?"

The curtain pulls back, and Kurt screams loudly at the sight of Frank standing there, completely naked and masturbating, slowly.

"What the FUCK? GET OUT! GET OUT!"

"Kurt I thought..."

"No, you thought wrong!" he yells, pulling the curtain around himself. "Jesus Christ, Frank! Leave. NOW!"

He's still shaking when he arrives at Blaine's hotel, and he paces around anxiously after asking the receptionist to let Blaine know he's arrived. He's not kept waiting too long, and Blaine looks as sharp as ever in a dark gray three piece suit with a light blue shirt and navy tie.

"Morning."

"So I think you were right about Frank," he blurts, running a hand through his hair.

"What? He hit on you?"

Blaine guides him to a chair, where Kurt sits heavily and draws a deep breath to calm himself. "I didn't tell you, but the night before last, he got into bed and started jerking off behind me."

"You've been sharing a bed?"

"Shut up. Anyway. I couldn't bear it, so I pretended to suddenly wake up and went to sleep on the couch. I slept there last night, too. Then, this morning, he walked in on me when I was showering."

"What?"

"It wasn't an accident, either. He was naked. And aroused. It was not a nice sight."

"You're not staying there."

"I have to!"

"No you don't. You can quit. Fly back with me tomorrow."

"I can't do that. Imagine how unprofessional that will seem? And let's face it, Frank is going to protect himself, isn't he? He'll make out like he turned me down, or something. I need to finish the rest of the run."

"Fine. Stubborn ass," Blaine barks. "But you're not staying in that apartment. You can stay here with me, tonight, and then we'll sort it out from there."

"Stay with you?"

"I'm not like him," he snaps angrily. "I won't hit on you. I have a suite. There's two bedrooms."

"I don't think..."

"I know you said I can't tell you what to do, but I'm telling you now. You're staying with me tonight. Get in the car. We'll go get your stuff."

"Now? But-"

"Don't test me, Kurt. Get in the damn car."

It's only when they're nearing the apartment building that Kurt dares speak again. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

But the hard set of his jaw, and the deep frown lines, seem to tell Kurt otherwise and he feels close to tears by the time they pull up outside. "I'll just..."

"I'm coming with you."

Kurt doesn't argue, just unlocks the door and leads Blaine up a narrow staircase to a dirty looking apartment, where he seems entirely out of place in his pristine designer suit. Frank is clearly waiting for Kurt's return, because he's sitting on the edge of the couch, leaping to his feet when the door opens. His face falls when he sees Blaine is with him, but he recovers enough to smile tightly.

"Hello there, Blaine. Good to see you again."

"Kurt's leaving."

"He can't!"

"He's not quitting the show, but he's leaving this place." He pauses, glances at Kurt, and then smugly adds: "He'll be staying with me."

"That's not..." Kurt starts, but the withering glare, and the fact that Blaine is offering him a chance to get out of a dark situation, make him stop talking immediately.

"Get your stuff."

"Kurt." Frank starts down the hallway after him, but Blaine's hand strikes him very firmly in the chest, keeping him in place.

"Don't you dare. I will ruin you, Frank, so help me God. You know I've got the influence to do it, too. So stay exactly where you are."

It doesn't take Kurt long to grab all his belongings and throw them into his two suitcases, and he doesn't look at Frank as they leave. Blaine does, though, giving a lingering stare which leaves Frank in no doubt of his intentions should he overstep the mark. Rather than be annoyed at his dominance over the situation and the menace he's displaying, Kurt finds himself grateful and also, more than a little intrigued.

"Thank you," he says once they're on their way again, and Blaine nods.

"I'm not mad at you, really."

"Okay."

"I'm mad as hell at him, though."

"I didn't lead him on."

"I know that." He shakes his head in disbelief. "As if you would need to get with someone like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've looked in a mirror. You know what it means."

Kurt grins, turning to face him. "Do you think I'm nice looking?"

"No."

"Okay." Satisfied, Kurt leans back, still smiling to himself. "Where are we going?"

"Shopping. I told you that, yesterday."

"I don't want to go shopping. I haven't got any money."

"I have."

"But that's not what I want!" Kurt cries angrily. "I love shopping, sure, but for a date? It's hardly very romantic, is it?"

"Woah. Hold up. Firstly, this is not a date. Secondly, there is not and never will be any hint of romance between you and I. I don't do stuff like that, so you're way off the mark."

"Fine, but even as friends, I'd rather do something fun, wouldn't you?"

"Like what?"

"Like...Oh! I know. You could take me to the Natural History museum to see that massive dinosaur. My brother and I used to look at pictures of that in a book we had. I've always wanted to see it. Can we? Please?"

Blaine looks at him, raising one eyebrow. "If we must. But don't call me your friend."

"You're full of the joys of spring, aren't you?"

"I'm pissed off!"

"About Frank?"

"Yes!"

"I can handle myself, Blaine."

"That's not the point! The point is..." Blaine stops and smiles, and for a moment, every one of his features softens. His eyes seem to shine as he looks briefly out of the window, and then back to Kurt. "Come here."

"Why?"

"Just slide over, damnit!"

Kurt obliges, his eyes locked on Blaine as he does so. He waits and ever so gently, Blaine lifts his chin with one finger, and kisses him softly just at the corner of his mouth. "Thank you for coming out with me today."

Struck dumb for a moment, Kurt blinks, then manages to choke out "You're welcome," before sliding back into his own seat.

"I'm still pissed off."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

Blaine takes one look at the line for the museum, decides they won't be waiting in that, and heads to the entrance with Kurt scurrying after, feeling positively mortified at having everyone glaring at his back. He forgets all about that once he's inside though, and it's Blaine's turn to trail behind as he runs eagerly to the huge T-Rex and stands, staring.

He stares for so long that eventually Blaine steps up next to him and they stand shoulder to shoulder.

"It's pretty impressive," he admits begrudgingly.

"My brother died."

"Excuse me?"

"Logan. My brother," Kurt says, still staring up at the enormous model. "He died. Rare heart defect that none of us knew anything about. I was in my second year of college, he was in his fourth. Training to be a teacher. He just...he died. And I think a bit of me died too."

"Um..."

"He was alive one day, and then he wasn't. That's all. Just there, and then gone."

"Right." Blaine waits, but Kurt doesn't say anything else. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with that information," he admits. "But I am very sorry to hear that he died."

"I don't know why I told you...except I've never told anyone before. Everyone who's in my life now, was in my life then, or else they don't matter enough to be told."

"I matter?"

"Damn."

They laugh and briefly, Blaine puts his arm around Kurt's waist, and squeezes softly. "You wanna see the rest of this dumb place, or are we done?"

"It is not dumb!" Kurt huffs. "You know, you should... Oh." He stops, blushing. "You're teasing me."

"Hmm. Maybe. Come on."

"Why do you always wear a suit?" Kurt asks as they wander around.

"I don't. Well, day to day, I do. But at home I take my jacket and tie off."

"Do you even own a pair of sweats?"

"Of course I do! They're for the gym."

"Or for lying on the couch all day on a Sunday."

"I'm not a student."

"Neither am I."

"You act like it."

"What do you do to relax?" At this, Blaine smirks, so Kurt punches his arm. "Don't be crude."

"I didn't say a word! I read, watch plays, listen to music."

"See friends?"

"I don't have any. This? Seeing you twice in two days? This is the most sociable I've been in years." Plunging his hands in his pockets, Blaine doesn't look at Kurt as he says it, but studies an ancient portrait instead.

"You used to live here, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"You liked it?"

Blaine shrugs. "I guess. I prefer the theatre scene here to New York, that's for sure."

"And you lived in Paris too, right? And LA?"

"Someone's been googling. Yes I did."

"So where's home?"

"I don't know." He frowns in annoyance and walks on, making Kurt scurry after him. "I have a house in LA, another in Malibu. Apartments in New York, Paris, hotels I favor in Barcelona, Rome, London... I like lots of places."

"Can I ask, when was the last time you were in a relationship?"

"The twelfth of never."

"Really?"

"Not for me. You?"

"I've been in a few. Short term things, mostly. Don't you want to find that one person?"

"No I do not. Egyptians. Come on."

For the rest of the time that they're in the museum, conversation is strictly limited to the exhibits. Even after, when they decide to go for lunch, they discuss the menu of the small cafe rather than anything deep. But to Kurt, it's welcome. It's nice to know they can do this; hold mundane conversation without wanting to rip each other's heads off, and enjoy one another's company.

"Can I take you shopping now?" Blaine asks as soon as their lunch is done.

"What is it about shopping? Are my clothes really that bad?"

"No, but you could look better. I don't know. You just look like you'd enjoy buying good clothes, that's all."

"You mean I look effeminate?"

Blaine laughs loudly. "No! Seriously, have you ever actually seen you? Because you seem to have some warped self-image."

"It's not that. It's just someone said it to me once, and it's always been a hang up."

"I'm not attracted to girls."

"You're attracted to me?"

Blaine opens his mouth to rebuff it, closes it again, and then mutters; "Damn."

"Ha! Well thank you, anyway."

"Be quiet. Just indulge me, please."

"Okay."

"Finally."

They head to a large, and insanely expensive department store, which Blaine seems to know well. When they reach the menswear section, he is greeted by name and told to take a seat. Champagne is brought out, and all the time, Kurt just stares, unable to reconcile this world of shopping with the usual rummage for the best bargains that he has to endure.

"So uh...shopping?"

"Just sit tight. They'll come ask what you want, then bring you a selection."

"That's not shopping."

"It is to me."

But Kurt doesn't know what he wants, and he feels very out of place and insignificant as an assistant stands there, waiting for him to order him around.

"What do you like to wear, sir?"

"Um...just um...jeans...I guess. I like jeans. And uh...I like scarves. But I don't really need any."

"Let the man do his job," Blaine says quietly, and Kurt senses he's losing patience. "Just bring some key pieces from this season," he orders and the assistant scurries away.

When he returns, Kurt is directed to a large, private dressing room while Blaine sits outside on his phone, answering emails or reading the news; Kurt doesn't know which, but he's just grateful that he's distracted.

He doesn't know who the assistant thought he was dressing, but the first outfit presented to him is a pair of tight tailored pants, with a pinstripe shirt and dark cravat. The second is a pair of the tightest maroon jeans Kurt thinks he has ever seen, and some kind of hideous sweater with flames on it, which costs over five hundred pounds. The third outfit is a suit, a nice suit, granted, but Kurt has no need for a suit at all, so he dismisses it out of hand and stands there in his underwear, wondering what to do.

"Today please, Kurt."

"Don't speak to me like that," he snaps back through the curtain. "I hate it."

"Don't be so annoying then."

He emerges, wearing the jeans, the pinstripe shirt and cravat, and the vest from the suit. Blaine looks up. "Finally."

But then he stops, swallows hard, and Kurt notices the unmistakable way his eyes focus on his hips and groin before slowly moving up. "You uh...you like that?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"This isn't about me."

"I think it is."

"Do you want those clothes or not?"

"I'd like someone to give me an honest opinion!" Kurt cries. Once again he feels close to tears. While in many ways spending time with Blaine is fun, it's also so wildly different to anything he's ever experienced that he feels uncomfortable, insecure, and this roller coaster of emotion, coming on the back of the incident with Frank, leaves Kurt reeling. "You never say anything! I ask if you think I'm good looking, you say no. I tell you my brother died, you say you don't know what you're supposed to do with that. I ask if you're attracted to me, you don't answer. Now you're sitting there, forcing me to buy things with your money, which I already feel awkward about, but you won't tell me whether you like the outfit, or if I look nice, or if I'm spending too much...and I don't know what to do, how to act, or what to say because I'm worried I'll do it all wrong!"

Blaine listens to all this calmly and then, when Kurt is done, he picks up his phone again. "Get dressed."

Kurt does as he's told, and follows Blaine from the store in silence. There are no bags, and he's seen no evidence of Blaine paying for anything, so he assumes that after his outburst, Blaine has once again decided he's a brat.

The car is waiting for them and Kurt marvels that the driver always seems to know where Blaine wants to go, because he never tells him out loud. This time, they take a long detour, going past all the sights for Kurt to see while Blaine stays locked to his phone, barely glancing up. They don't speak at all, not even when they arrive back at the hotel.

Kurt assumes he's expected to follow Blaine up to his room, so he does, only it's not a room. It's a suite which is at least twice the size of his entire apartment back home, with two bedrooms and a sitting room, and the most stunning views. Set on the floor next to the couch, is at least ten bags from the store they've just visited, making Kurt do a double take.

"They're yours," Blaine informs him. "Your room is that one. Bathroom too. Do what you want. Tom will take you to the theatre when it's time."

He disappears, closing the double doors to the master bedroom behind him, and Kurt wanders about for a bit before taking a look in the bags. The outfit he had tried on is there, along with several more scarves, three more pairs of jeans, some pants, shirts, and four pairs of shoes.

He moves the bags to his room, which now contains all of his belongings, neatly packed away, and there he sits on the edge of the bed, lost. He contemplates calling his dad, or Anna, but then he wouldn't know where to start with this insane story, so he does the only thing he can think that he really wants to do; he curls up on his side, and cries.

He doesn't hear Blaine come back into the sitting room, but the doors to his room are open so he gets a clear view of Kurt's shaking back and then suddenly he's there, giving his shoulder a nudge. "Get up."

"No."

"Please."

It's the please that makes him oblige, but he's careful not to look at Blaine and show his blotchy, tear-stained face. He's expecting to be berated; he's not expecting to be held.

When Blaine takes him in his arms, suddenly it all seems okay, though that only makes Kurt cry harder. Blaine holds him close, an arm around his waist and one firm hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to rest into the crook of his neck.

He says nothing, for the longest time, but eventually Kurt feels a gentle kiss into his hair. Followed by "I'm really sorry for upsetting you."

"No," Kurt says, pulling back slightly to wipe at his eyes. "It's not you. It's just...everything. Being here, Frank, the show, this entirely different world... I don't know."

"If I don't say stuff, it's because I don't know how, not because I don't want to," Blaine says stiffly.

"Why don't you just say it anyway?"

"I can't."

"Just tell me."

"I uh..." Blaine stops, and then shoves Kurt's head back over his shoulder so he doesn't have to look at him. "I think you're incredibly beautiful," he says quietly. "And you looked hot as hell in that outfit. Now I'm going to take a shower," he announces, and he's gone from the room before Kurt has any chance to respond.

He doesn't reappear until Kurt is about to leave for the theatre, when he coldly announces that he will be going to watch a different show. Kurt feels oddly disappointed, but he knows it would be entirely unreasonable to expect Blaine to watch the show for a fourth time, and he knows that going to the theatre is his job.

That evening, no one speaks to him. He goes on stage, does his job and then, once he's in the car on the way back to the hotel, he realizes that he's entirely unbothered. In fact, everyone's avoidance of him had made everything a whole lot easier since there were no awkward questions.

It feels undeniably strange to walk back into the Langham and up to Blaine's suite, letting himself in as if he belonged, which he surely doesn't.

Blaine sits at the table, typing on a laptop. For the first time, he's not wearing his suit jacket or tie. His collar is open, his shirt sleeves rolled back and when he turns at the sound of the door, Kurt notices he's wearing glasses.

"Oh."

"Hey." Blaine smiles, seemingly in a better mood than earlier. "How did it go?"

"Uh..."

"Kurt?"

"I'm just..." He dives into his room, closes the door and leans against it, breathing hard. A sudden urge of sexual longing, stronger than he has ever known, surges through him, and he feels himself growing hard. As if he were an inexperienced teenager once more, he is entirely powerless to stop it.

He takes a shower, quickly bringing himself to a rushed and unsatisfactory orgasm, but at least it's got the sudden urge to ride Blaine senseless out of his system. He dresses in his old, worn sweats and Rolling Stones t-shirt, deciding that he doesn't care if Blaine doesn't approve, and then he steps into the sitting room.

Blaine stops typing, and lowers his glasses, looking over the top of them. "Are you okay?"

The longing instantly returns. "Glasses."

"Yes," Blaine says slowly. "I'm old, remember? All my faculties are waning."

"I doubt that." Kurt bites his lips as soon as he's said it, and blushes hard.

Blaine clearly catches his meaning, because he takes the glasses off, closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, staring across at him. "You're like a different kid to the one who was crying earlier."

"I'm not a kid. And anyway, you're different too."

"Yes. Well, I made an idiot of myself and now I'm trying to ignore it."

"When you told me that? You didn't." Kurt smiles, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweats. "You kinda made me swoon."

"Crazy brat," Blaine mutters, but there's a smile on his face as he walks over to the bar and pours two whiskey and sodas.

"What were you writing?"

"My review."

"Can I see?"

"If you must." He hands a drink to Kurt and sits, opening up the laptop and pulling up the review. Kurt hovers over his shoulder, close enough to hear his breathing, close enough to smell his cologne. Close enough to kiss him, if he were only brave enough.

"Ouch," he says as he reads. "That's harsh."

"They shouldn't be shit."

Kurt turns to look at him, raising one eyebrow.

"What?" Blaine asks and suddenly the air turns heavy with desire. Their faces are inches apart, and Kurt smiles softly.

"What?"

Blaine returns the smile and for a moment, Kurt is sure he will kiss him. He knows that if that happens, it'll end in bed, and maybe Blaine knows this too, which is why he quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "You must be hungry. I haven't eaten, have you?"

"Uh...no." Dazed, Kurt sits slowly in the adjacent chair.

"We'll get room service."

"Do they do burgers?"

"They'll do whatever you want."

Kurt would like to sprawl on the couch, stuffing his face with burger and fries followed by ice cream, but the meal is served on fancy china, of course, and Blaine sets it on the table, along with a steak for him and a bottle of red wine.

"I go home tomorrow," he says as they start to eat. "Are you sure you won't come?"

"No. You know what? I'm good. I can handle not being spoken to, and the whispers. I know the truth."

"Call me, if anything happens, and I'll fly you right out. You can repay me, if you must, before you stubbornly insist against it, but just promise me you'll call me if you need me."

"I don't have your number."

"That can be arranged," Blaine says with a smile, and then he looks down at his food. "Uh...Kurt, I know you don't like me, and I know you're a brat, and I don't even know why we're still talking to one another but uh... y'know."

"Yeah," he agrees quietly. "I know."

Once again, his eyes grow heavy as the evening wears on. He barely finishes his wine, and doesn't get a chance to order his ice cream before Blaine carefully helps him to his feet and into his room. "You a Stones fan?" he asks, looking at Kurt's shirt.

"It was Logan's."

"They're one of my favorites."

Kurt laughs, sinking down into the bed and closing his eyes. "I can't imagine you rocking out."

He thinks Blaine answers him. He also thinks he pulls the covers up to his shoulders, and kisses his cheek too, but then sleep pulls him under.

"Kurt."

He wakes slowly, surprised to find bright sunlight streaming in through his window. "Huh?"

Sitting, he rubs his eyes and squints over to where Blaine stands at the foot of the bed, dressed immaculately in a blue suit.

"I have to go," he says, looking at the floor.

"You're leaving? I'm so sorry. I just haven't had much sleep and..."

"It's fine. I didn't want to wake you. You needed to rest. I just wanted to say...Uh... This place is yours," he says awkwardly. "For the rest of your time in London. The car too, so just call down if you want to go anywhere."

"Blaine?"

He looks up sharply, and Kurt can see a sadness in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Come sit here."

Blaine doesn't argue, but he sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. Undeterred, Kurt kneels next to him, and brings his hand to his cheek, turning his face so they're eye to eye. "Thank you." He keeps his eyes fixed on Blaine's, and slowly leans in, brushing their lips together.

Blaine's hand comes up, his fingers closing around Kurt's wrist. "You don't have to. This isn't what I'm expecting in return."

"I know."

His certainty seems enough for Blaine, and he closes his eyes, framing Kurt's face with his hands, and tenderly kissing him. It's like a dam bursts for Kurt and he breathes in sharply, leaning back onto the pillows and encouraging Blaine on top of him. The second he feels his solid, comforting weight pressing him into the bed, he opens his mouth wider, whimpering when Blaine takes full advantage and kisses him deeply, running his tongue into his mouth.

He directs the kiss entirely; Kurt is totally at his mercy but he doesn't mind one bit. In fact, he relishes the moment, as his body seems to come alive, just from the touch of his lips. He slides one leg up, hooking it around the back of Blaine's thigh to draw him closer, hoping that this kiss will never end, but it does.

Blaine pulls back, breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust. "Kurt," he groans, his voice rough with want. "Why d'you have to do this to me now, when I've got a plane to catch?"

Kurt grins, pleased with Blaine's dishevelment. He slides up against the pillows, biting his lip in pleasure. "Hmm, well, maybe you'll just have to take me out again when I get back to New York."

"I'd like that," Blaine admits. "Can I call you?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll take another of those kisses before I go." He grins wickedly, grabbing Kurt behind the knees and pulling him down the bed, making him yelp in surprise. This time, their kiss is hard and dirty, both of them making the most of these precious few moments before they part.

Kissing Blaine is every bit as erotic and sensual as Kurt thought it would be. His senses are filled with the man as he bites down on Kurt's lip before briefly sucking it into his mouth, letting it go to taste with his tongue over and over again. Then he breaks away, kissing Kurt's cheek, down behind his ear and then scraping his teeth over the delicate skin of his neck before moving back to his lips once more.

Kurt has never known a kiss like it. He keeps one hand holding tight to the lapel of Blaine's jacket, needing him close. The other he slides into his thick hair, anchoring him in place. He moans when Blaine's hand runs roughly down his side to grip his hip hard, but Blaine quickly swallows it, kissing him with even more ferocity.

The phone in the sitting room gives three rings, and it's followed by a knock on the door, making Blaine groan, briefly resting his head against Kurt's neck and kissing there softly. "Damn," he murmurs. "That's the car."

He sits. His hair is wild, his lips wet and red, his shirt rumpled. Kurt feels an intense thrill to know he did that to him, he made Blaine lose his demeanour, made him want, made him feel.

"I'll call you."

He rights his appearance in the mirror, all hints of an intense, hot make out session disappearing as his armour comes firmly back into place. "Good luck with the rest of the run. Don't forget to call if you need anything." He doesn't even look at Kurt, but walks quickly from the room and pulls open the door to the suite.

"Blaine!"

He pauses in the open doorway, looking back, and Kurt runs. Though he is undoubtedly surprised, Blaine holds his arms out and catches Kurt, holding him tight, and takes the lingering, tender kiss he offers. "Thank you for everything."

"Anytime."