Though Kurt has a wonderful time reconnecting with his dad and visiting his grandmother, he is undeniably excited to be back in New York, and seeing Blaine waiting for him fills him with joy. He runs toward him, throwing himself into his arms and squeezing him tight.

"Ugh. Why?" Blaine moans, but Kurt knows he's equally as happy that they're reunited once more; in fact, he kisses him full on the lips in the middle of the busy airport and then keeps ahold of his hand until they're at the car.

"So you had fun?"

"The best," Kurt says, pulling Blaine's arm around him and tucking in close to his side. "I told dad about us."

"And?"

"He was uh..."

"Horrified."

"Surprised," Kurt says, laughing. "But he's happy for me. I kinda told him how I feel about you so..."

"Which is?"

"I don't want to smack you in the mouth quite as often as I used to."

"Thanks." Blaine kisses into his hair as they travel toward Mapleton. Kurt can feel him relaxing, becoming the Blaine he is in private, the one that only he knows.

"Do you have any plans tonight?"

"Fucking you."

"Blaine!"

He laughs. "Not really. Well, I mean, that's a fine plan, but I don't have anything I need to do."

"So...you could come back to my place?"

Blaine stiffens, and sits a little straighter. "Will your roommates be there?"

"I don't know, do I? But I will be, and I'd like to spend some time with you."

"Come to my place then."

"We're always at your place."

"Because it's better."

"You are so fucking rude sometimes," Kurt snaps. "Don't bother if my apartment offends you that much. Jeez."

"Ugh. Fine. I'll come up," Blaine says, and he dutifully follows Kurt up the narrow stairs and into the apartment, where Anna and Meredith are sitting, one on the floor and one on the couch, trying to throw pistachios into one another's mouths.

"Kurt!" Anna shrieks and leaps off the couch, then she pulls up short. "Oh, and Blaine. Hi. It's really nice to meet you."

"Yeah," Meredith says, getting to her feet. "Welcome. I'm Meredith and this is Anna."

"Hello," Blaine says formally, then he glances at Kurt. "I'll be in your room."

He's gone before anyone can question it, and after a hushed conversation with the girls about how abrupt his boyfriend can be, he heads into his room to find Blaine standing by the bed, looking thoroughly out of place.

"What the hell?"

"What?"

"You were so rude!" Kurt hisses angrily. He closes the door but keeps his voice low, not wanting to alert the girls to their argument. "You didn't speak. They introduced themselves and you just walked off!"

"I said hello."

"This relationship is important to me, Blaine, and so are those two girls. They're the ones who picked me up when Logan died, who graciously allowed me to live with them when I couldn't afford my own place. They're the ones who encourage me, who build me up, who know me as well as I know myself so don't you dare be rude to them, because I won't stand for it. I want you to know them, because if you and I keep going, I'd like to think we can see them together and there won't be any awkwardness about it."

"Why?"

"Because I told you, this relationship means a hell of a lot."

"Does it?"

"Yes." He softens, beguilingly wrapping his arms around his neck. "And I think I need some kisses."

Blaine obliges, but there's something missing, something he's holding back and though Kurt would like to question it, Blaine clings onto him when they part, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry I was rude, I'll try harder."

"Thank you." They kiss again, and Blaine is strangely pliant, letting Kurt back him towards the bed and falling on top of him. Again, he senses that something is off, and it's not long before Blaine breaks the kiss again in favor of hugging him close.

"Blaine, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure?" He falls onto his side, studying his profile. "Did something happen while I was away?"

"Only that I missed you. What about you? Anything happen?"

"Granny made me a fruitcake," Kurt says with a laugh. "And said she was pleased I'd found a nice boy."

"Right."

Kurt studies him a moment longer, then gently brushes a curl from his forehead. "Are you hungry?"

"A little. You want to go out for dinner?"

"We could...or I could cook?"

"Sure. Let's go."

"No, I mean here. I could cook for us here. The girls too."

Blaine sits and runs a hand through his hair. "No thank you."

"You said you'd try!"

"And I will, when you stop avoiding the real issue by either trying to seduce me or making sure we're not alone."

"What?" Kurt sits too, entirely confused. "What are you talking about? There's no issue, is there?"

"Is that a joke? I asked you to quit the show. You text me over the weekend about anything and everything, but you didn't answer the one question I had asked. Now you're back, asking me what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong, you're going to do it, aren't you? You're going to waste your talent and your time on a show that will ruin your career and us too, probably."

Kurt reaches out, but Blaine is not in the mood to be touched and he stands, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes, I am going to do it," Kurt says, his voice calm. "Because I want to. But that doesn't mean we're going to fall apart because of it. We're better than that."

"Are we? I don't know. You won't listen to me."

"I'm nobody's lapdog, Blaine," he says, echoing his father's words.

"That's what you think this is all about? Me, trying to control you? I don't want you hurt, or in danger. I don't want to see you putting your career on the line. It's not a control issue, hell, I thought you knew me better than that by now. Obviously not."

"I think it is a control issue, yes," Kurt comes back. "And jealousy. You know Frank has a weird thing for me, and you feel threatened by that, even though I've told you time and again there's no need to worry. I think you're so used to people doing your bidding in life, and now you're annoyed because you've told me to jump and I won't ask how high."

"That's... That's..." Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. "You know what, Kurt? One of the things I adore about you, is that you give as good as you get. I love that we fight over the littlest things. I love that you don't take crap from anyone... That day I snapped my fingers at you? You burned me, and it set me on fire with a desire to know this feisty young thing. You wanna know something else? The three people I loved most in this world refused to accept me, who I am, what I'm about, anything. I thought you were different. I thought you would've realized that I think you're the most incredible person I've ever met, and that I want to do all I can to keep you safe. Clearly, I was wrong."

"Blaine..."

"I'll see you around."

Kurt doesn't say a word, just watches Blaine leave. Initial anger has him studying his lines in an act of defiance, and yelling at Meredith when she attempts to talk with him. Anna fares no better either, and after throwing a pillow at her, he sinks back on his bed, his anger then showing itself in hot, burning tears. He loves to bicker with Blaine but he hates fighting with him for real, he realizes. His heart hurts to know that they're at odds with one another, but he doesn't know how to go about making it better. They're both stubborn; Blaine won't change his mind about thinking this play is a bad idea, and Kurt has committed to doing it, and there's no way he won't follow through. It's an ugly stalemate but he brings to mind what his dad had told him. In a couple of months this will all be done. They just have to hang in there until the storm passes.

It's nearing midnight when he arrives at Blaine's apartment, but the doorman welcomes him nonetheless, and pays the massive cab fare, too. Kurt can only assume they bill Blaine for it at some point. He knocks on the penthouse door, his breath catching when Blaine answers, fresh from the shower, with just a towel around his waist.

He doesn't say a word, just jerks his head, signalling to Kurt to come in. He does, and hovers in the hallway, not knowing where to go until Blaine kisses him tenderly, and leads him to bed.

They make love slowly, filled with deep passion and longing for one another. Once again Blaine pulls Kurt into his lap, keeping him close, softly kissing his shoulder.

"I need you," he whispers as he drives inside him. "Oh God, Kurt, I need you so much."

Kurt cradles his head in his hands, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes in bliss. "Always," he promises, choking back tears of emotion. "Always, I'm yours."

They both sleep but are up early, sharing a silent breakfast which is only enhanced in its awkwardness by the housekeepers bustling about. Kurt wishes they wouldn't be here, just once, so that he could make his own breakfast, but he also knows it's not his place to demand anything right now.

"What are your plans today?"

"I have to go into the office this morning for a meeting," Blaine says stiffly. "I have a show to watch tonight. You?"

"Work from nine through one, then rehearsals until six. So I guess we won't see each other today."

"I guess not."

They go back to silence once more, and it continues until Kurt is standing by the door ready to head to the coffee shop. "Blaine? If you wanted, you could meet me from work at one? We could walk to rehearsals together. I mean, it's not much but..."

"I'll be there."

"Good."

"And uh... you could come to the show with me tonight, if you wanted? It's not a gala, so no tux, but you'll need to look decent."

"Hey!" Kurt looks indignant, then realizes this is Blaine's attempt to lighten the atmosphere, by teasing him. "I guess I can comply with that."

"Then I'll see you at one." He kisses him on the cheek. "You are so hot."

Kurt smiles, and it feels good. Blaine's small, offhand comment puts a spring in his step and his shift at work passes so quickly that he can't quite believe it when Blaine arrives just after twelve thirty.

"Coffee."

"Don't start with that," he says, but he makes his medium drip and sets it on the counter. "Did you miss me?"

"No."

Kurt grins, and watches lovingly as Blaine goes and sits in the window, unfolding a newspaper to block out the world around him.

"Are you sure he likes you?" Karl asks, and Kurt sighs happily, and goes back to cleaning the counter.

"Yes. He's always like that. He doesn't mean any of it."

"Hmm." Seeming to take this as some kind of challenge, Karl walks across the shop to Blaine and clears his throat. "Hi there, I'm Karl. Kurt's friend and manager. Nice to meet you."

Blaine glares at him, nods, then lifts his newspaper again.

"So are you excited about Kurt's new role? Off-Broadway lead. Isn't that great?"

Blaine lowers the newspaper again with a huff. "Not really, no. I think he's making a stupid mistake. Now if you'll excuse me, I want to drink my coffee and read my paper."

Karl retreats, his eyes wide. "You're right, he's really obnoxious," he whispers to Kurt. "But if you say he doesn't mean it then..."

"No," Kurt says sadly. "He means that. Every word."

But when Kurt's shift ends, Blaine makes no mention of the conversation with Karl, so Kurt doesn't either. They walk the few blocks to the rehearsal studio and though Blaine doesn't say anything, Kurt knows he's expecting to escort him inside.

He can't deny he feels a massive surge of pride, to walk into the room holding Blaine's hand. He knows heads turn, not just because Blaine is ridiculously hot and obviously wealthy, but because everyone knows who he is. Given that Kurt is a last minute replacement, they also know this is the new lead, and he feels a sense of power and confidence settling over him as he strides forward, and offers his hand to Frank.

"Hi, Frank, good to see you. You remember Blaine Anderson, right?"

"Kurt! And yes, I do." Frank wipes his hand on his faded denim shirt and offers it to each of them in turn. "Come to critique us already, Blaine?"

"It's Blaine, and no, I haven't," he spits. "I've come to make sure my boyfriend is safe. I'll sit over there."

"You're staying?"

"I am."

Kurt would like to tell Blaine that there's really no need; he feels as though the balance is very clearly in his favor here, but he also knows that Blaine will stay whether he wants him to or not, and he doesn't want to give Frank any hint that something might be off between the two of them, so he says nothing.

"I didn't realize..." Frank starts as he leads Kurt to the back of the room.

"Since London."

"All that time? Right. I see."

The rehearsal goes off without a hitch. Kurt settles in well, and Blaine even steps out for a couple of hours, returning just as Kurt is finishing, and possessively grabbing his hand as soon as he is able, preventing Frank from saying anything to him.

They don't discuss the rehearsal; there's no time. They rush back to Blaine's apartment to shower and change before heading back out to Broadway, but when Kurt catches sight of Blaine, dressed in a maroon suit with a navy shirt, open at the collar, and wearing his glasses, they nearly don't leave the apartment at all.

"Kurt!" Blaine cries as he's pinned to the living room wall. "We can't. Not now."

"Just kiss me," Kurt begs, running a firm hand over the front of his pants. "Kiss me hard, and tell me what you want to do to me tonight."

"Oh fuck." Blaine obliges with the kiss, and Kurt pulls him close.

"Those glasses," he groans when they part. "No tie... Hot."

"I'm um... I'm trying to uh... To not look so old," he admits, and Kurt stops rubbing him and moves his hands to his hips instead. "Not that I'm trying to look young," he adds, seemingly confused by his own words. "But you always look so effortless, so amazing, whereas I'm always standing there next to you, looking formal and boring and miserable."

"Actually, I think you always look divine," Kurt tells him sincerely. "Do you know how proud I was to be seen with you today?"

Blaine gives a small smile and leans in, kissing him once more. "Thank you."

"Please don't worry. If you want to dress a little more casual then do it, but don't think it's something I need you to do because let's face it, I'm gonna undress you either way. Plus, I always worry that I don't look sharp enough in comparison to you so..."

"So we should just stay naked all of the time," Blaine declares.

"Naked," Kurt agrees happily. "Except for the glasses because damn."

"Down boy," Blaine laughs. It turns into a groan when the call comes for the car though, and they leave the sanctuary of the apartment for a night on the town.

The play is not spectacular but good enough, and they linger afterward for the press reception. Once again Kurt feels an overwhelming pride to be on Blaine's arm, and he loves the way he proudly introduces him to everyone they meet. There are a lot of other critics there, but unlike the gala they had attended, Blaine shuts down anyone who makes a cutting remark about him being with another young actor. He firmly tells people that they're very much together, have been for quite some time, and their surprise turns to quiet admiration and intrigue.

"So are you working right now?" a reporter asks Kurt.

"Yes, I've actually just stepped in as replacement in the Life of Riley Morton."

"That's Frank Fisher's show, right? Well, someone had to, I guess."

"Yes, but it didn't need to be Kurt," Blaine snaps. "But he thinks he knows best."

"Frank's probably trying to sleep with you," the reporter jokes, not knowing how close she comes to the truth. "If I was you I wouldn't do it. Just look pretty and let your rich sugar daddy take care of you."

"He's not..." Kurt starts, but the woman just laughs and walks away.

Kurt is further enraged when they meet another critic. Once again Blaine introduces him, but this time, when the man asks if he's working, Blaine answers for him.

"In his infinite wisdom, Kurt has decided to step in as replacement in the Life of Riley Morton."

"Really?" the man asks in surprise. "Ouch."

"Right? Talk about a waste of talent."

"Blaine! Don't talk about me like that!" Kurt snaps. He glares at the critic, who makes a silent retreat, and then kicks Blaine's shin for good measure.

"What? I'm allowed to express my opinion."

"Not to everyone we meet, you're not."

He shrugs. "Okay. I won't mention it again."

"Really?"

"Sure."

It's not what he says, but how he says it that gives Kurt cause for alarm. There's an underlying threat to the words, a hint that Blaine is still intensely angry about him taking the role.

"You're completely okay with not talking about it?"

"You're right. It's none of my business what you do, just as it's not your place to interfere in my job. So let's just carry on as normal and avoid any and all discussion of our respective careers, okay?"

Stunned, Kurt wants to object, but he also thinks any argument would now sound weak. He knows what Blaine is doing; which is to twist his words about and make them work for him instead, but he's too tired and confused to have any comeback. "Thank you," he says meekly and then, like a switch is flipped, Blaine smiles brightly.

"Any time." He finishes his glass of champagne, sets the glass down and eyes Kurt carefully. Slowly, he takes his glasses from the inside pocket of his jacket and puts them on, a devilish grin spreading over his face. "Do you want to come home with me?"

The dark tension between them is forgotten in favor of desire, Kurt gulps, bringing one hand up to the lapel of his jacket. "If I do, will you rim me while wearing those?"

Blaine doesn't reply, but firmly guides Kurt from the room and out to the car.

True to his word, Blaine doesn't mention the play, Frank Fisher, or Kurt's role at all over the next couple of weeks. It's like it doesn't exist. That would be fine, except that he refuses to discuss his own job either, and Kurt misses the easy conversations about theatre that they used to have.

The unspoken hangs between them and slowly drives a wedge deeper and deeper as the weeks move on. Time together is hard to find; rehearsals are intense for Kurt and, unbeknownst to him, Blaine has started writing essays for The Arts of NYC, a prestigious performance art related magazine, as well as his work for the New York News. This keeps him busy with attending functions, art exhibitions, live shows and meetings and somehow, it becomes harder than ever for the two of them to even find time for coffee.

Under all the stress, and feeling more adrift from Blaine than ever, Kurt becomes tired and grumpy. It doesn't help that he hates every second of rehearsals. The more the show takes shape, the more Kurt realizes it's a truly awful piece of theatre. He doesn't know what he was thinking when he took the role but, stubborn as always, he won't admit it to himself, or anyone else.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asks him over dinner one night. He waits for the waiter to depart and then reaches over the table, taking Kurt's hand. "You look like you want to say something. You've realized I was right, haven't you? Rehearsals aren't going well?"

"Going great, actually," Kurt says angrily. "No thanks to you and your complete lack of faith in me. I was only going to say that since I'm so busy, and I need to focus on my role, I won't be staying over until after the show is done."

He looks away, saddled with the burden of his lie and missing the utter devastation in Blaine's eyes. "But it's still a week until you open, then it's a four week run."

"It's just better this way," Kurt tells his wine glass. "I'm never home, Blaine. I miss my own bed."

"You said my bed was like a cloud."

"It's not up for negotiation."

"No, nothing ever is, with you, is it?"

"What's that supposed to mean? Is this about the role again?"

"Of course it is! I know you, Kurt. I know you're not enjoying it, I can see it in your eyes, hear it in every word you speak. Don't sit there, giving me crap about how wonderful it is. You live for the stage and you're not living for this. You hate it, you know you made a huge fucking mistake but you're too damn stubborn to admit it."

"Careful, Blaine, you're on dangerous ground, here."

"Am I? Well you know what, Kurt? I really don't think I care."

He drains his wine, and signals to the waiter to bring the check.

"Hey!" Kurt objects. "We haven't even eaten!"

"I'm suddenly not hungry," Blaine snaps, angrily shoving his credit card at the waiter. "I'm going. You can get your own cab home."