When Kurt leaves work the next day, he's surprised to find a car waiting for him. "How do you always know where to be?" he asks Roy as he slides into the back seat.
"It's my job, sir," he says politely, but Kurt decides he will also attribute Roy's sixth sense to magic, along with the shower, the music system and pretty much everything about Blaine's extravagant lifestyle.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kurt thinks he should be annoyed that Blaine has sent a car for him, but then he can't deny it's very nice to relax as Roy weaves through the traffic. He thinks back to the previous night, when he, Meredith and Anna had eaten Chinese food and gotten entirely silly, freaking out about Kurt heading to a gala opening on Broadway. He was glad he had a chance to get the nerves out of his system, because he knows this is usual life for Blaine, and he doesn't want to come off as too green.
Blaine is waiting, and for the first time ever, he kisses Kurt the second he sees him, running his hands back into his hair and teasing over his lips with his tongue. He kicks the door shut and then lifts Kurt clean off the ground, into a strong hug.
"You're pleased to see me," Kurt says into his neck. "Nice."
"I am not."
"Are you excited for tonight?"
"No."
"Good."
Blaine laughs, setting him on his feet and leading him down the hallway to a room he's not been in before. "I'm in the guest room?"
"No! This is the dressing room."
"Oh." Kurt really has no idea what a dressing room is; surely one can dress in a bedroom or bathroom? But his question is answered when they step inside what is basically the biggest walk-in closet Kurt has ever seen in his life.
"Well it answers the question of where you keep your clothes," he says as he looks around.
There are so many rails of suits that he can't count, and racks of shoes, too, mostly Louboutins. There's another rail filled with ties, and then two rails of what looks to be workout attire, with running shoes. Finally, there are two black chests of drawers, containing, Kurt assumes, underwear.
"I want to die in here."
"Ha! I'm glad you like it. Okay, this is yours. I hope it fits." He hands Kurt an Armani suit carrier, and kisses his cheek. "Try it on. I'll wait in the living room."
Stunned into silence, Kurt remains rooted to the spot long after Blaine is gone. Finally he comes to life and unzips the bag, running his hand reverently over the sharp black fabric, heavy with fine quality. It's a perfect fit; the crisp white shirt has tiny black buttons instead of white, the jacket fits like it was made for him, and the brand new Louboutin shoes already feel more comfortable than anything he owns. With his bow tie loose around his neck, Kurt walks down the hallway and into the living room, where his footsteps are swallowed by the thick rug.
Blaine still notices his presence though, and looks up from the newspaper he's reading. "Oh wow."
"Glasses."
"Sorry." He stops looking over his glasses and raises them up into his hair instead. Tugging on the knot of his own tie, he seems quite affected by the sight of Kurt dressed up, and he moves slightly on the couch before clearing his throat. "It's uh... It's good. Do you like it?"
"Yes. I didn't know how to do the bow tie, but..."
"I can do that for you. If you want to take a shower, you can. I promise it won't attack you this time. We should have time to make it to dinner before the show starts."
"I can't do dinner!" Kurt cries. "I'll spill something on this and then it'll cost extra when it goes back."
"It's not going back," Blaine says with a frown. "It's yours. A gift."
"What?"
Blaine gets to his feet and goes to him, softly caressing his cheek. "I don't know...we might go to more stuff together, maybe? You'll need a tux when you make it big on Broadway, anyway."
Stunned by his tenderness and also his kindness, Kurt gives a small shake of his head. "Blaine...it's too much. You just keep spending money on me and I..."
"I want to. You're incredible, Kurt, and I want to...to... I don't know. To buy you things I think you'll like, just like you took me to Coney Island. It's not about how much things cost, it's about what makes you happy, and the next time you need a tux for something, you'll have one already, and that'll make you happy, right?"
Kurt sighs, wrapping his arms around his neck and drawing him into a long kiss. "Right. As long as you're there too."
They kiss again, and it quickly builds in intensity. So much so that Kurt starts making fanciful plans about missing dinner in favor of asking Blaine to take him right there and then.
"Oh my god. Please take your glasses off," he gasps.
Blaine pulls back, confused. "Okay." He takes them from the top of his head, placing them neatly on the coffee table. "I'm sorry you don't like them. I need them to read, really, and type."
"Blaine, it's not that I don't like them," Kurt explains patiently. "It's the opposite."
"It's..."
"Seeing you in glasses makes me extremely horny," he says bluntly. "And now I'm going to take my shower."
"Don't you dare jerk off in there, Kurt Hummel!" Blaine bellows down the hallway after him. "Save it for later."
They dress separately, and Kurt laughs loudly when he arrives in the hallway to find Blaine waiting, dressed in an elegant tux, and wearing his glasses. "Very funny."
"I do need to take them," he says as he ties Kurt's bow tie for him. "Otherwise I can't see the playbill. But I can see you, and you look divine."
"Thank you. So do you."
They walk down to the car together, hand in hand, and Kurt notices the way the elevator attendant smiles at them even if Blaine doesn't. He also notices the way Blaine keeps a hold of him at all times, but not in a domineering manner, more because he just enjoys having him close.
They soon join a long line of cars, all chauffeured, and Kurt suggests they just get out and walk the rest. "I can see the theatre from here."
"Red carpet. Press," Blaine explains. "It's not going to look good if you and I stroll up the street."
"We have to have our photos taken?"
"Yes. But don't worry. You're more beautiful than anyone else."
Kurt beams. "That's very nice of you to say."
Eventually they arrive, and Blaine guides them onto the carpet, posing quickly for photos, his hand resting in the small of Kurt's back. Kurt is doubtful any of their pictures will end up in the national press, but he still thinks it might be wise to tell his dad about Blaine when he goes home in two weeks time.
As they walk into the theatre, Kurt can't help but notice the respect Blaine commands. He talks to no one, but a hushed buzz seems to follow them to their seats, and he recognizes other theatre critics from their pictures online. All of them nod to Blaine, then cast their eyes over Kurt, smirk, and turn back to their conversation.
"People are staring," he whispers, tugging on Blaine's sleeve.
"So? Let them stare." He ushers Kurt into his seat, then leans across him to tap the arm of the man next to him. "Arthur."
"Blaine!" The man shakes his hand warmly, and Kurt knows instantly that it's Arthur McKay, esteemed director and the man tasked with bringing this magnificent musical back to Broadway. "Good to see you. How are you, how's the family?"
"I'm good thank you," Blaine says politely. "Family are all well."
"Wonderful. I hear your father's been in the hospital? Nothing too serious, I hope. Not the cancer?"
"It's all fine," Blaine lies smoothly. "You know dad, he never gives in."
"True, true."
"So Arthur, this is Kurt Hummel," he says, and Kurt politely shakes hands and smiles. "He's an actor."
The man laughs loudly, shaking his head. "They always are with you, dear boy. They always are."
Kurt has a million and one questions all at once, starting with wondering that the hell that last comment had meant, but the lights dim and then he's lost in a world of pure magic, swept away into a beautiful tale told with wonderful music and dance.
It's so incredible that after two standing ovations, Kurt's almost forgotten all about the weird pre-show moment, but then Arthur shakes both their hands again, and tells Blaine he'll catch him at the reception.
"So what the hell was that?"
"The show?" Blaine asks innocently.
"Don't."
"Arthur is an old friend of the family. We all like to keep up pretences, and make out like we're this close knit family unit...people don't really know what to say if you tell them your parents have disowned you for being gay. The theatre community is open and accepting, but they also won't stand up for me, since my parents push a lot of money into this theatre and others on Broadway."
"Wow. Okay. And the comment about me being an actor?"
"Ah, don't worry about that," Blaine says lightly. "Arthur's just having some fun. We can talk more to him a little later. Come on, there's Randolph White. He owns the Belgrade."
Kurt shoves everything to the back of his mind and concentrates on meeting one of the most influential men on Broadway. He greets Blaine like an old friend, then they turn their attention to Kurt.
"Another one, Blaine, really? Your father must despair of you."
Blaine smiles politely. "Kurt is an actor."
"Of course he is! And half your age, knowing you."
They make small talk, but Kurt doesn't join in; he's hurting too much. So far he's met two people, both of whom have made reference to Blaine liking young actors. Though he tries to convince himself they're just teasing, it all seems to add up to a side of Blaine that he knew nothing about.
Randolph moves on and, entirely oblivious to his pain, Blaine hands Kurt another glass of champagne. "Hey, there's Monty Patz. He's about to direct Loves Game at the Grand. I think that's his casting director next to him. You'd be perfect. I'll introduce you."
He doesn't give Kurt a second to answer, just steers him over to the man and woman, interrupts the conversation they're having, and introduces Kurt right off the bat.
"Still after the actors then, eh?" Monty booms, laughing loudly at his own joke. "Anderson by name, Anderson by nature. Just like your father used to be. I've not heard of you, Kurt. What work have you done before?"
"I um..." Kurt swallows thickly as the room starts to swim before him. "Excuse me," he whispers, then charges away, pushing past everyone until he's outside on the street.
"Kurt!" Blaine runs after him, grabbing his elbow and stopping him in his tracks. "What the hell is with you?"
"You really have to ask?"
"Monty is a connection you need. He was ready to talk to you and you just bailed."
"Because I can't stand to hear yet again how much of a lothario you are, seemingly with a penchant for young actors!"
"I told you, don't listen to that."
"No, you told me that one time, Blaine. And one time, I could ignore it. But then there's a second time, and a third, and there's the whispers as people see us together."
"You're behaving like a child, Kurt," Blaine snaps in annoyance. "There's a room full of people back there that could heavily influence your career and you're throwing a fit because some people made some comments?"
"I'm fucking hurt, you idiot!" Kurt yells, not caring about passers by. "When you and I started this I never imagined I was just another in a long line."
"Don't be dumb," Blaine says, rolling his eyes. "Come back inside and we can talk about this later."
"Don't worry about it," Kurt chokes out. "I just want to go home."
"Fine." Blaine huffs. "The car's around somewhere."
"No, Blaine. I want to go to my place. I'll get a cab."
"Oh no. No way." Blaine reaches out, firmly grabbing his wrist. "That wasn't the deal. You said you'd stay."
"I'm not fucking you!"
"That's not what I said," he replies calmly. "But you're not going home. Not like this."
"I want to!"
"I don't particularly care what you want, now get in the car."
"How is the car here? How?"
Blaine doesn't elaborate, just pulls open the door and gives him a hard shove. "Get in."
"Don't touch me!"
"Oh so what, you're mad I've slept with other people before, so now you wanna land me in trouble by making a scene in public?"
"I don't give a damn that you've got a past, you jerk. I'm upset because I thought I meant something... I didn't realize I was a conquest."
"Whatever."
"You don't even try and deny it! Any of it! It's all true, isn't it? Everything they said."
"We'll talk at home."
"I'm in the car!" Kurt cries, suddenly realizing. "How am I in your stupid ass car?"
"You got in."
"I hate you, Blaine Anderson," he growls. "I really, really hate you."
But Blaine still seems to think this is all some joke, and he smirks, nudging Kurt's ankle with his toe. "I'm in for a good night, eh?"
"You don't get this, do you?" Kurt yells loudly. "I fell for your stupid ass act and now I feel like a fool. You pulled me in, got what you wanted and soon someone else will come along. Well I don't want that, Blaine! That's not what I'm about. You told me you'd never had a relationship and now I see why! You're a whore, bedding young actors by introducing them to directors and agents. You make me SICK!"
"Woah! You thought this was a relationship?"
Kurt opens his mouth to come back with something, anything, but he can't. His eyes fill with tears and he looks away, trying to keep his face hidden.
"Oh great, and now you're crying. You're twenty three, for fucks sake. Grow up."
"Fuck off, Blaine. Roy, can you take me home, please?"
"I'm sorry, sir," the chauffeur says from the front seat. "I can only go where Mr Anderson tells me to."
"Are you fucking programmed?" he cries. "Just drop me here then. Pull over."
"Don't you dare, Roy," Blaine snarls, then turns to Kurt with a glare. "Stop being a brat. You're coming home with me and we're talking this out. I have things I want to say too, and all you're doing is screaming at me. So you will give me my chance and then, if you still want to leave after that, I'll ask Roy to take you home."
Kurt sulks, sinking low in his seat and folding his arms across his chest with a pout. He knows he looks ridiculous, he knows Blaine's temper is raging, and he knows that it's very likely he will anger him further by crying a whole lot more before this night is through, but it's suddenly hitting him just how much he likes Blaine, and how desperately he wanted this to be a serious thing between them. He also knows, if he's entirely honest with himself, that he'd never actually asked Blaine what he thought their relationship status was, because he had been fearful of the answer.
They arrive home in silence, and Kurt watches as Blaine takes off his jacket and bow tie, leaving it loose around his neck. He follows suit, and doesn't miss the way Blaine's eyes rake over him before he takes the jacket from him and sets it over the back of a dining room chair. "You want a drink?"
"No thank you."
"Fine." He pours a whiskey for himself anyway, and spends a long time staring out at the lights on the water. "It is true," he says softly, and behind him, Kurt sinks onto the couch in despair. "I do have a bit of a reputation for sleeping with young actors. Guys like you, I guess, who are just starting out...and I know they see me as a step up the career ladder. I often meet them at events like tonight; opening night parties, press events...they don't usually know how to break into conversation with higher profile actors, or directors, so I start talking with them, introduce them to a few people... I guess they let me fuck them out of gratitude."
"I think I've heard enough," Kurt whispers, getting to his feet.
"No...listen." He turns around quickly to face him. "You're... You're the only one I've been on dates with. The only one I've ever brought back here. I usually rent hotel rooms because I don't want some guy showing up here demanding more from me. I never give out my number, never let them stay the night... Kurt, you're so different."
"I don't feel like it," he admits, wiping at the tears that he knew would come. "Not right now."
"Those guys...they use me as much as I use them. But I know you don't use me, because you don't ever ask for my help with building connections, or ask me to buy you stuff... Argh!" He downs his drink then runs a hand through his hair in despair. "I'm really awful at this stuff... I don't know what to say."
"That's the thing though," Kurt sadly explains. "You never say a word. Clearly I've misjudged the whole situation, because I assumed this was a thing between us... But you never said it wasn't."
"I also never said it was."
"No, I know."
"Because I wasn't sure that would be something you wanted, with me."
"You confuse me, Blaine. I care about you a lot...but then other times I want to punch you in the face. You're infuriating as hell, but I also know you're so much fun to be around, and despite sometimes wondering if it's all worth it, you keep me coming back for more. But you never once give me any indication of what you think or feel and consequently, I find myself shutting down. You tell me you think about me, but that's where the statement ends. You say I make you happy but again you don't elaborate. You're an entirely silent lover, you know that? And I'll be honest...though I enjoy doing stuff with you, I get the feeling you're going through the physical motions without actually mentally connecting with the moment at all. Did you know that when the tips of your fingers brush along my waistband, I get an ache inside of me that won't die down? Did you know that when you kiss me, butterflies build in my stomach and then you look into my eyes and my heart starts to pound? I don't think you feel any of that. I think you shut yourself down because you won't let yourself feel any emotion. You're scared that truly committing to being with someone might also mean that you lose them, that they walk away just like your family did... But that's really sad, because you and I could have had some great times together. However it all ended, we could have looked back on this with great fondness, if only you'd let go."
For the first time, Blaine looks genuinely upset as Kurt is talking. He runs his hands through his hair again, and gives a small shake of his head. "I don't know what to say. I mean...I don't want you to go. I thought we had, or have, something that works for us both. I don't want to lose you."
"I need your word, Blaine," Kurt whispers through his tears. "That I'm not like the others."
"You're not," he says quickly. He steps closer, taking Kurt's face in his hands and wiping away his tears. "You never could be. You're so much more. I adore you, Kurt. Please don't walk away from this. Us... Please."
"You wouldn't ever sleep with someone else while you're dating me, would you?"
"No, I swear." He answers firmly, his gaze steady and sure as he looks Kurt right in the eye. "Only you can decide if you trust me, but I would never, ever cheat on you. And I don't want to date you. I want to own you."
"Blaine! That's... You're joking, right? Please tell me that you're joking."
"I am," he confirms with a smile. "It's my way of saying I want to be with you, and only you, if you'll have me."
"So we're together?"
"So together."
Kurt nods, wiping the last of his tears and smiling when Blaine settles his hands on his waist. "I like that."
"I do too. And I'll try and moan a little more when we're in bed."
"That wasn't what I meant."
"I know. But you're right, I think. I go through the motions, because I know what brings me pleasure, and I know what will pleasure someone else...but I don't know what will bring us pleasure, together. So maybe we could work on finding that out?"
"I'd love to. And I know you have way more money than me, and you're older, but please treat me like an equal in all of this, otherwise we'll never work."
"I'll try," Blaine agrees. "I might not always be perfect, and I know I'm grumpy as hell, but I do promise I'll try."
"That's all I want. Don't stop being grumpy though. I enjoy sparring with you."
"Can I kiss you now? he asks as he studies Kurt's mouth. "Because you're driving me crazy, dressed like that."
Kurt smiles, letting his hands come up to play with his soft curls. "I thought you'd never ask."