Blaine awoke at eight, without an alarm clock. When he had met Kurt by chance at the Laundromat before, the last thing that had been on his mind was checking his watch, but he estimated it to have been around eleven. Therefore, his time leading up to that hour were spent pacing, attempting futilely to preoccupy himself with television, and throwing clean clothes from his closet into a laundry bag.

At ten o'clock and with an idea for a brief stop that would take a few additional minutes, Blaine finally decided it was close enough to eleven to leave. "Morning, Mr. Hillard," Blaine said to his neighbor, who had somehow fastened a beach umbrella to the carpet and sat under it with a floppy hat and sandals. "You do know it's the dead of winter, don't you?"

"In Australia, they have Christmas in bathing suits on the beach," Mr. Hillard announced as he adjusted the brim of his hat.

Blaine shook his head and smiled indulgently. "Is that even true?"

"Truer than the fact that Italians eat squirrels."

Blaine let out a short laugh of surprise. "Anyways, Mr. Hillard, we're in New York City."

"Center of the universe," the old man said with a mystic smile.

Blaine gaped at him for a moment, trying to deduce whether the RENT reference had been purposeful or inadvertent. He finally settled on the determination that with Mr. Hillard, it was impossible to tell. "Don't catch pneumonia," Blaine advised, beginning to walk down the hallway. "I don't want to have to take you to the emergency room."

"Blaine Anderson," Mr. Hillard said as Blaine walked past. Blaine turned toward him, and the man looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. "You went to do laundry three days ago."

Blaine flushed and turned around again. "Yeah, yeah," he whispered. As he walked away, he heard Mr. Hillard start to chuckle.

Two thirds of the way from Blaine's apartment to the Laundromat, there was a store called Yankee Berry. At ten thirty, Blaine walked out of the store with his laundry bag under his arm and two medium frozen yogurts in his hands. He had zero idea whether or not Kurt liked the frozen treat, or whether he'd want some before noon, but he'd gone anyway, for the sake of homage.

He walked into the Laundromat five minutes later to see it completely deserted but for one person, perched on top of a dryer. "You're early."

Kurt looked up, startled, but a smile spread across his face when he saw who had spoken, which made Blaine's heart flop in his chest. "So are you," Kurt observed. His eyes travelled to the yogurts. "What's this?"

"Ah, it's uh…froyo," Blaine said, walking over to Kurt and dropping his bag on the ground. "Orange mango…I hope you don't mind."

"It's my favorite," Kurt said, reaching out to take the cup and a plastic spoon enthusiastically.

"Me too," Blaine said as he hopped hop to get on top of the dryer next to Kurt.

"What's the occasion?"

Blaine flushed. He had wondered if Kurt would ask him such a thing. "Have you ever seen Doctor Horrible?"

Kurt rolled his eyes with such dramatic realization that his head followed. "Of course. I remember. They would eat frozen yogurt together in the Laundromat." He observed Blaine strangely, as if seeing him in a new light. "Do you do stuff like this all of the time?"

"Stuff like what?"

Kurt shrugged and preoccupied himself with a spoonful of yogurt. "Like taking people to Disney movies and fancy restaurants, and then bringing them froyo because it was in Doctor Horrible."

"Actually," Blaine said. "No. I don't…not ever, really." He averted his eyes when he felt Kurt turn his head to look at him. "I might be what people classify as a bit of a hermit."

Something flashed behind Kurt's eyes but it was gone before Blaine could look twice. "I've been called that once or twice."

"How?" Blaine asked, swirling his spoon around and skimming a thin layer off of his yogurt. "Doesn't your job kind of demand you to be around people?"

"Yeah," Kurt said with a wry smile. "If by people you mean the people that tuck bills into your G-string and get off on you circling your leg around a pole."

Blaine blushed furiously and looked up at Kurt, startled. Even the other man's joking smile didn't banish his mortification. "I – I meant like, other dancers, or DJs…not…"

"I know what you meant," Kurt said with a teasing smile. "You don't have to act like anything you say or any way you react about what I do will offend me. I'm a tough cookie," Kurt winked, "and believe me, I've met many more people who are exponentially more offensive than you would ever be." Blaine met his statement with silence. It was one thing to lecture on the ethics of exotic dancing, it was another entirely to make light of it, like it was a joke. Blaine didn't want to do either one. "As for the people, I guess. I mean, they're acquaintances. I could probably pick a few that I'd want to have to a dinner party, or be around after hours." He shrugged. "The manager is my best friend though, and when you're best friends with the boss, people start calling out favoritism…getting jealous."

"Just like everywhere," Blaine said. When it came down to fundamentals, what Kurt did wasn't so drastically different from other businesses.

"Not with you," Kurt said, leaning closer. "You get to work for yourself, don't you?"

"You make it sound better than it is," Blaine said with a laugh. "If I want to play at a club or bar, I have to consult with management and schedule out a time and clear a set list with them. If I want to make a record, I have to find someone who will actually make it and convince them that I'm better than the dozens of other people who want to record. Then you have to deal with the rights to your songs, and weigh who you can or want to sell them to. If you know someone, it makes all of that easier." Blaine smiled. "Then people start calling out favoritism and getting jealous."

"Touché," Kurt said with a chuckle. He lifted a spoonful of orange mango to his mouth, and Blaine tried not to stare as his lips skimmed across the dessert, and his tongue flicked out briefly to halt a drip. "So…I know this is kind of strange. I mean, you saved me from someone and I thought I'd never see you again…and then all of this." Kurt gestured around him, probably to indicate "all of this". "You mentioned growing up in Ohio, but I really don't know much about you."

"What do you want to know?" Blaine asked, settling back against the wall comfortably. "That goes two ways, by the way."

"A question for a question?" Kurt asked. Blaine grinned widely and nodded. The Question Game was one of his lingering juvenile enjoyments that he doubted would ever disappear completely. "Okay then…the other night you said that you moved here on your own after you graduated. Why?"

"Don't bother starting with the easy ones," Blaine said sarcastically, though he softened his words with a smile. "I wanted to leave Ohio. I needed to find a place that would be more…accepting…you know?"

"Mmm," Kurt mumbled noncommittally.

"When did you come here, then? Or did you grow up in New York?"

"No," Kurt said with a smile. "Although I wished I had been born here all the way until I had the power to move myself here. I came here for college."

"Oh?" Blaine asked curiously. "What college?"

"Nu-uh," Kurt said, shaking his head. "One question."

"Aw, come on," Blaine begged, pulling out a pouty lip and puppy dog eyes. "That's like part A and B of the same question."

He saw Kurt's assurance flicker, but in the end it held. "Nope, my turn. Why on Earth haven't I heard any of your music on the radio?"

Blaine scoffed. "I guess because no one wants to listen to it."

"That isn't true."

"Well, thanks Kurt, but more people than one have to want an album to happen to set it in motion."

"Write a song about every person in New York," Kurt advised. "Then you'll have the entire city charmed and in the palm of your hand."

"Oh really?" Blaine asked, grinning slyly. He could hardly believe that the other man said that. Some of Kurt's obvious flirtations were actually veiled in a rounded statement such as the one he'd just given. But now that Blaine recognized it, there was no other way to take his insinuation.

"Maybe," Kurt replied elusively, looking at Blaine from the under his lashes and cementing his assurance. This wasn't in his imagination. Only a few months ago, he'd been screaming at Kenneth in his apartment about their one-sided relationship and not being able to feel anything no matter how hard he tried. Now, Blaine felt every glance heat his skin. Every laugh kicked up butterflies in his stomach. Every touch of Kurt's hand, given with subtle purpose or on accident, made him feel. Blaine felt around Kurt, and it didn't feel like the obligatory job his other relationships had. This felt right – effortless. It felt like it had been waiting there all along, for the right moment to come and Blaine to find it.

"Maybe," Kurt said, the corners of his mouth tipping up. His heart was pounding. He was sure Blaine could hear it. He'd think he was some giddy teenager, which Kurt had been feeling more like every moment he was with Blaine.

Dave had been waiting for him at The Adonis, and he hadn't let Kurt get changed until he had spilled every last detail about his date. He hadn't even attempted to hold back as he gushed about Blaine singing along with the movie and starting a trend, and the fancy restaurant he had taken him too. Dave had gaped when Kurt described the extent to which Blaine had gone for their first date, and then smiled slyly at the huge grin on Kurt's face. Twenty minutes had followed in which Dave had berated him for not kissing Blaine. Kurt had said it wasn't the right time.

As he looked at Blaine from under his lashes, he wondered if it was the right time now. It wasn't very romantic – sitting on a pair of dryers at the Laundromat – but it was where their paths had crossed again, and where Kurt had known that they weren't meant to go their own ways.

The silence between them had grown too long, and Blaine was looking at him too intensely. Kurt looked away suddenly, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks.

"My turn?" Blaine asked softly. Not able to find his voice quite yet, Kurt shrugged acquiescently. Blaine smiled and leaned toward him. "What college?"

An uneasy feeling kicked within Kurt's stomach. Nobody but Dave knew his story. Then again, Blaine wasn't asking for his story, he was asking what college Kurt had come to New York to go to. "Julliard," he said finally, observing Blaine carefully as his amber eyes widened in surprise. "I got into the Theatre Arts major and left home the summer after I graduated high school."

Blaine gaped at him for several moments before speaking. "Wow." He flushed. "If you graduated from Julliard…well, I'm sure that there were dozens upon dozens of jobs waiting for you."

Kurt smiled slowly, although he didn't find the situation funny. "It's another story," he said shortly. Blaine's brow dipped in confusion but he didn't say anything further. "As for you, well, you seem almost perfectly normal."

"Alright…"

"The last time we were here, you were acting completely miserable," Kurt said, a smile creeping onto his face. "As if you were the only one in the world whose life sucked." He paused. Kurt wanted to pick his next words with extreme care. "You said you came to The Adonis because you were just hoping to forget. Did you?"

Blaine stared across the room for a moment. He dragged his plastic spoon against the bottom of his empty Styrofoam cup contemplatively. "Yeah," he said finally. He looked at Kurt and smiled. "I was upset because a few months ago…it wasn't exactly that I was always sad, but that I was never happy. Nobody could make me smile. Nobody really ever has been able to, except you." Blaine shrugged. "I forget I ever felt like that when I'm with you…or thinking about you, or when I know I'm going to see you. You make me smile."

Kurt was shocked almost to stupidity, and a large goofy smile found its way onto his face. "So," he continued, feeling both daring and curious, which were a lethal combination. "You said that you were a runner." Kurt tucked his legs up to his chest and leaned his head on his knees. "When does that kick in?"

Blaine responded with a smile. "What exactly would I be running from?"

"Me," Kurt said, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He knew what Blaine was getting at. He wanted him to say the words: a relationship, or boyfriend. Kurt couldn't do it.

Blaine shook his head. He reached toward Kurt and gently traced the back of his hand before twining their fingers together. "You think I would, after what I just told you?"

"People leave all the time, whether they plan to or not." It had happened to him more times than was his due and he didn't doubt that it was likely to happen again.

"Not me," Blaine insisted. His hand traced up Kurt's arm lightly and he began to lean in. Kurt's breath caught in his throat, and his eyelids were beginning to flutter closed when a loud clamor came from the doorway.

Blaine sucked in a shaky breath and looked away, and Kurt let out a quiet sigh before opening his eyes. They looked at each other for a few seconds, before: "Kurt!"

Wanting to curse the interloper into the next century, Kurt clenched his jaw and turned to look at the person who had spoken. Upon seeing her, his jaw slackened and his face paled. "W-what are you doing here?" he asked. She was past middle age, with grey hair piled up onto her head and wire-rimmed spectacles perched on a button nose.

She pursed her lips and looked at him almost pityingly. "Doing laundry, dear, of course," she said, setting down a laundry basket. Kurt gaped at her. "It's nice to see you out around the city a bit."

"It's just laundry," Kurt replied tightly. Blaine shot him a quizzical look but Kurt didn't catch it.

She smiled and nodded, and only then did she seem to see Blaine. "Oh, hello! A friend, Kurt? I don't believe I know you," the woman said, holding out her hand.

"Uh…no, I don't think you do," Blaine said, returning her handshake. Kurt had to fight a grimace. Blaine didn't understand, and hopefully she would leave before he could. "I'm Blaine."

"Doctor Harlan," she introduced herself. With a wink, she added, "you can call me Sherri." Kurt had to fight not to grab Blaine's hand and run out of the Laundromat, leaving Sherri Harlan in their dust. "Kurt, I didn't see you last week."

"I was working," he replied shortly. He couldn't believe that the woman was talking about this. She didn't know how close he and Blaine were, or how much he had potentially told him. Had she even considered the possibility that he didn't want Blaine to know certain things about his life? Weren't there laws that protected doctor patient confidentiality?

"At two in the afternoon?" she asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Paperwork," Kurt responded tightly. "Renewing job contracts and all that." It was a boldfaced lie. He wasn't even sure if he needed to renew his job contract, or if anyone did. If he did, Dave must have been taking care of it for him all these years.

"We'll reschedule," she said with a placid smile. "Oops! I seem to have forgotten detergent. Watch my things, dear, I'm going to pop over to the corner store and get some. Be back in a jiffy!"

Blaine gaped after her as she retreated, and Kurt attempted to glare a hole into her back. "What a weird woman," Blaine remarked. "She managed to get a doctor's degree?"

Kurt cracked a smile. "She's a quack. She can't even prescribe medicine."

He could see the gears beginning to turn and eventually clicking together in Blaine's head. "Oh. She's a…"

"Feel like running now?" Kurt asked miserably. His stomach was suddenly in knots and he felt like he might throw up at any second. "She's a psychotherapist, emphasis on psycho."

Blaine was quiet for a few moments. "I thought you were okay with…what you do," he said slowly.

"It isn't about that," Kurt said, turning his head away. Blaine didn't understand. He couldn't. To him, being a stripper was probably the most emotionally scarring thing that he could think of. He couldn't fathom that Kurt's demons went far deeper than that. Little did he know, exotic dancing used to be Kurt's escape from all the things that were really wrong in his life – used to be, before Blaine had been there.

"We don't know each other very well," Blaine said slowly. "But you don't have to worry about…stuff like this, you know. My dad sent me to a shrink for five years before I left. It doesn't mean that you're crazy. For me it just meant that people didn't understand." Kurt felt Blaine reach out and take his hand again. "You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me, Hummel."

Kurt smiled in spite of himself, and tightened his grip on Blaine's hand. "Don't…tempt me, Frodo," he teasingly quoted, turning to look at Blaine again.

Blaine dramatically clutched his heart with his free hand and tipped his head back. "My heart," he choked out. "You quote Lord of the Rings." Kurt smiled bashfully. In junior year right after their parents had gotten married, Finn had been nurturing a secret, well-closeted obsession with fantasy movies. He'd watched the trilogy numerous times, and Kurt had more than a few lines memorized. Of course, he wasn't about to tell that story to Blaine. That would lead to questions about where Finn was today, and those were questions that Kurt wasn't prepared to answer.

"I'd better get going," Blaine said, hopping off of the machine he had been sitting on. "The day doesn't wait."

"Nope," Kurt affirmed, letting his knees relax and hanging his legs over the side of the dryer.

"I'll call you," Blaine offered, backing up with his hands in his pockets.

Kurt bit back a grin and nodded. "Blaine!" he called before the other man left. Blaine turned back with an expectant look. "Forgetting something?" He pointed to the bag of laundry Blaine had left next to him.

Blaine bounced his palm off of his forehead and shook his head, making Kurt laugh. "You have me frazzled," Blaine said flirtatiously as he doubled back and grabbed the bag. He drummed his fingered against the dryer and then looked up at Kurt. "Two things," he said softly.

Before Kurt could register what he meant, Blaine was leaning up on his toes and tilting his head back as he pressed his lips softly against Kurt's. Kurt's breath caught in his throat. His hand moved to cup Blaine's jaw, and they deepened their kiss for a moment. Kurt's mouth parted, and he felt Blaine's tongue softly trace the underside of his top lip before the shorter man slowly pulled away and sunk back down onto his feet.

"I'm glad I reminded you," Kurt said. Blaine smiled a smile that made Kurt feel like they were the only two people in New York. He grabbed his bag and gave Kurt a small wiggle of his fingers before leaving.

Now alone, Kurt let out his pent up breath in an airy sigh. He pressed his fingertips to his tingling lips, relishing in the giddy feeling that was coursing through him. It was with a contented feeling that Kurt realized Blaine had never even put his clothes into a washing machine.

A/N: Sorry these chapters are coming so infrequently! I can only blame it on university and the fact that I, for some reason, thought it would be a good idea to take five classes when you're only supposed to take four. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter though! Let me know what you think :)