As always, I am forever grateful to everyone for their reviews and favorites. I fangirl so hard when I get a story alert, you guys, you have no idea. The next few weeks are hectic for me right now, but the chapter after this one should be up around the 13th or the 14th. For now, here's a nice, long update. (: The following chapters will not be this long, however.

Disclaimer: It's not true, so don't sue.

This was bad.

When Blaine had the opportunity to think over what he said before he said it, his responses to Kurt's texts were utterly adorable.

He found Blaine so charming.

So in essence: this was bad. So very bad.

He shouldn't even be becoming friends with the poor guy. Dr. Krugman only wanted simple conversation to draw Blaine out of that shell of his.

Kurt fingered his hair self-consiously. It was getting so long. It hadn't been this long in a while. When he'd first arrived at the job six weeks ago, he already was in desperate need of a haircut. Now it was nearly past the middle of his ears, and he looked like a pageboy. He hated it.

But he couldn't bring himself to cut it.
He knew that his normal, perfectly-coiffed hairstyle highlighted his best features very intentionally. But he couldn't have Blaine paying attention to the fact that his jaw wasn't exactly ladylike.

He hated having to hide his masculinity.

He glared at the mirror a final time before exiting the car and heading into work. It was Friday.

Kurt irritatedly tapped the stylus against the tablet screen, unable to figure where he had gone wrong with his scheduling. How in the world had he double-booked the doctor's patients on November third? It was far in the future, too. He was slipping.

He didn't notice when Blaine snuck into the office, and settle quietly down at the sofa. Kurt scowled at the tablet, finally deciding to email "Jaunders, Phillip," to reschedule the appointment. He groaned finally, closing the leather case over his tablet. He glanced upwards and immediately straightened.

"Blaine! I -" He scrambled for his thoughts, quickly raking a hand through his bangs as a manner of habit. "I'm sorry, today's... today is something. Do you have days like that?"

Blaine nodded noiselessly, and Kurt sighed. He barely caught what Blaine said afterwards: "Every day is like that."

Knowing that was probably a personal statement Blaine didn't want Kurtney to know, Kurt chose not to reply.

They sat in relative silence, Kurt stacking his magazines so he could focus on his work.

There was a quiet cough, and Kurt looked towards Blaine, whose face was burning scarlet. Raising an elegant, trimmed eyebrow, Kurt asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong," replied Blaine quickly, but his flush didn't fade. "I - I just noticed that you're wearing a McQueen brooch." Like a reflex, Kurt's hand flew to his collarbone, where he had indeed pinned a houndstooth flower brooch to his coat lapel. Kurt nodded, his tongue feeling thick. "T-there's a McQueen exhibit down where I live. Like a collection of his life accomplishments."

Kurt's eyes widened, and he sat forward in the swivel chair. "You're not serious? Do the have any of his pieces?" he asked before he could stop himself. Blaine's lips tightened and he nodded once more. "Even his earlier stuff? I would kill to see some good 2002 era McQueen..." He trailed off when he noticed that Blaine kept fidgeting. He tilted his head at Blaine in question, and Blaine looked to his feet, which was something he did when he was nervous. He knew all of Blaine's habits by now.

"I wanted to tell you because I was wondering if... if you'd like to see the exhibit with me."

Kurt's eyebrows smacked his hairline.

Yeah, this was bad.

He knew that he had to word everything he said carefully in front of Blaine, and this moment was no different. It was perhaps more necessary now that it had been before.

"Blaine, I'd love to see the exhibit, but I really must ask..." Kurt paused for a moment, trying to phrase it correctly. "...would I be seeing the exhibit with you as a friend?"

Blaine flinched for half a beat, almost imperceptibly, but then he was nodding fervently. Kurt bit his lip and glanced towards the door. Dr. Krugman usually interrupted by now. Of course today of all days she wouldn't come in on time.

He had to go with his gut feeling. Normally this didn't end well.

"I'd like to go with you, Blaine," Kurt said gently. "But would Dr. Krugman think -"

"She'd be fine with it," Blaine interrupted swiftly, the words jumbled and nervous. Kurt tightened his jaw and scrutinized Blaine's form.

There wasn't much he could do or say against this man.

"Can I think about it, maybe check my schedule?" Kurt asked desperately. He didn't know if Dr. Krugman would think that this was perhaps the precipice of appropriateness.

Blaine nodded a final time and rose as Dr. Krugman's blurry form began to open the glass door. The doctor opened her mouth to say something, but Blaine rushed past her and into her office. Dr. Krugman glanced towards Kurt inquisitively, but Kurt just gave her a long-suffering look and turned towards his schedule.

So bad.

At the end of Blaine's session, Kurt still couldn't make his decision. He needed to speak with Dr. Krugman before anything.

Blaine exited the doctor's office, his posture stiffening as soon as he spotted Kurt rising from his seat. He looked like he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth.

Knowing that he could possibly lose Blaine's progress without saying something, Kurt blurted his answer: "I'll text you tonight."

Blaine's eyes lit up, the whites wide, making his face seem infinitely more childish.

"I'll expect you," Blaine answered, his voice miniscule, and his eyes remaining locked on Kurt's own. Kurt could feel a blush of his own rise on his cheeks.

Feeling the tension, Blaine made his departure at that moment.

Dr. Krugman came out shortly after, an unamused expression on her face.

God, Kurt didn't want to get fired for this.

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized immediately. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you have something to apologize for?" she asked sharply. "Can you tell me why my patient was practically comatose with nerves in his session today?"

"He asked me to meet him outside of the office, and I -" Kurt swallowed heavily. "I didn't know if that would be all right. If that was appropriate, or, you know, legal."

Dr. Krugman nodded slowly, the motion reminding Kurt of Blaine. She sat down lithely on the edge of the receptionist desk, and sighed softly.

"I feel that I have to once more take advantage of you, Kurt," she said gravely. "I must implore you to accept his invitation."

Kurt groaned, falling back into his seat. "Dr. Krugman, this is an entirely different ball game," Kurt said weakly. "I do enjoy Blaine's company. But what if he thinks this is something more? What if someone recognizes me? Calls me by name? If he finds out I'm a boy, won't that ruin everything?"

"I feel it is a risk we need to take," she answered, and Kurt was beginning to get more than a bit frustrated with the woman.

"But is it your decision?" he asked, anger tinting his words. "Who says you can decide whether or not to gamble on Blaine's progress?"

"I regret your attitude," the doctor bit out, glaring at him. "I have been Blaine's therapist for going on two years now. I feel that I would have a better handle on whether or not Blaine is prepared for such a step. Far more qualified than you, Kurt."

Kurt simmered beneath the surface, grinding his teeth as he glowered at her. Finally, he exhaled, nodding submissively. She didn't say another word. She pivoted on her heel and strode back into her office. Kurt leaned forward on his elbow and shoved his fingers into the crown of his hair.

He glanced towards his BlackBerry, which slightly protruded from his bag, the little light in the corner occasionally blinking.

If things were bad now, he didn't want to know how bad they were going to become.

He grabbed his cell phone and sent off the text before he lost his nerve.

Sunday morning was extremely frustrating for Kurt.

He had texted Blaine that he would be happy to go with him to the exhibit, and he'd meet him on Sunday if that was all right.

Friday night around six he had received the reply.

"Sunday is perfect, could we meet around noon unless that's too early?"

Of course, Kurt was finding himself become weaker and weaker against Blaine requests, so he immediately agreed to the time.

But he was going to be in public with a man who thought he was a woman.

He was clearly not.

He had riffled through his wardrobe at least twelve times, trying to construct the perfect outfit that was just gender-ambiguous enough.

Kurt yanked at his hair, still hating its length, but thankful for it today. It would help his disguise at any rate. Finally he settled on his outfit: a floral collared shirt with a maroon cardigan beneath it, and skinny jeans that took him a full eight minutes to tug on. He was getting better at the skinny jean dance, but these grey acid wash jeans challenged him. He pulled on a charcoal blazer, and turned around to see himself in the full-length mirror.

A girl would wear this outfit, wouldn't she?
Would Kurtney?

It needed some more femininity. He knew what would give it that final touch.

Glancing towards his desk and the music box that sat atop it, he knew that after he put that final touch on, there would be no going back.

He opened up the jewelry box, a ping hitting the air as the turn in the back hadn't been completely static. The sound caused a rush of nostalgia and he nearly slammed the lid shut. He steeled himself from panicking, and he reached forward for the necklace he needed.

It was a Swarovski daisy on a delicate gold chain. It would make the outfit.

It had belonged to his mother.

He remembered it hanging loosely across her chest, his face pressed hard against it as he hugged her tightly. He remembered the permeance of her perfume (only recently had he found it at Macy's; Organza by Givenchy. He'd almost cried in the store).

His swallow was heavy and difficult.

Fastening the latch around his neck, he looked at it in the tiny mirror in the jewelry box. It hung around his clavicle, teasing him, reminding him of how wrong this was.

He shut the box then, tugged on his grey boots and put on his white fedora before rushing out the door.

Kurt could see Blaine standing at the edge of the street corner when he departed the Red Line at the Wilshire/Vermont station. He would have taken his car, but he didn't want to make Blaine uncomfortable by being the only ones alone in the car.

But seeing Blaine alone on that platform, it was suddenly everything he wanted. He certainly wouldn't mind being alone with him in the car.

The shorter man's hair was gelled today in an obvious attempt to tame it. He was wearing a periwinkle collared shirt with a navy sweater over it, and skinny khakis. The bow tie he adorned was adorable as well; it was a sophisticated plaid.

Kurt walked swiftly from the train towards Blaine. As soon as the man spotted him, his face broke into an enormous smile, and Kurt was momentarily shaken by the magnitude of it.

"You actually came," Blaine mumbled incredulously. Kurt furrowed his brows.

"Of course I did, I told you I would," Kurt replied, confused. Blaine hummed lightly at this, and motioned ahead of him.

"The exhibit's only a few blocks walk. I hope you don't mind. I don't have a car..."

"That's fine, that's fine," Kurt assured, gently squeezing Blaine's shoulder as he passed. Blaine froze at the motion and Kurt thought. terrified, that he'd taken things too far. But then Blaine's face erupted into a pink blush and his lips twisted into a permanent smile and Kurt knew he hadn't gone too far at all.

They walked in silence on the sidewalk, Kurt occasionally looking towards the curly-haired man. He noticed how phobic he was of strangers even touching him, and he shrunk away from every male person that even came close to him.

Distraction.

"How close by to the station do you live?" Kurt asked conversationally. Blaine's head whipped towards him, and he bit his lip.

"I live on 6th Street, so it's less than half a mile."

"I live over near the Metro Center," Kurt replied genially, trying to push Blaine to talk a bit more. "So I'm not too far."

Blaine kept watching Kurt as he spoke, and Kurt felt a bit flustered. "So when does the exhibit open?"

"It opens at eight," Blaine said quietly, his eyes finally shifting from Kurt's. "Closes by five, so we have plenty of time."
"Do you mind if we get something to eat first?" Kurt questioned lightly. "I haven't eaten anything all day."

Blaine nodded, smiling at Kurt. "There's a nice café nearby if you'd like to go there. They have paninis, if you're into that."

"I'd kill for a good non-fat mocha right now, too," Kurt gushed. "Lead the way, good sir." He wove his arm beneath Blaine's, looking at him expectantly to show the direction. Blaine's laughter was bubbly and a bit hysterical as he led Kurt.

"This panini is to die for," moaned Kurt. "Tomato, fig, and goat cheese. Absolutely flawless. Would you like a bite?"

"I'm fine here," Blaine replied, taking a bite of his frittata. "Unless you'd like a bit of this?"

"I would, actually, that's looking quite delicious," Kurt answered, his lips twisting upwards. Blaine leaned forward, over the table, held it out towards Kurt to take.

Surprising himself with his boldness, Kurt didn't take the frittata. Instead he leaned forward, took Blaine's hand, and took a bite of the frittata. He chewed slowly, nearly choking with effort to not laugh at Blaine's completely gobsmacked expression. He raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all," Blaine commented, his voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat self-consciously and Kurt shot him a smirk.

There was a tinkling of bells as the glass door to the café opened. Over Blaine's shoulder, Kurt was horrified to see that he recognized the person who had just come through the door.

And of course, with Kurt's luck, of course Sam Evans caught Kurt's eye in that moment. The blonde man grinned widely, and waved enthusiastically. Kurt raised a hand weakly towards him. Blaine tilted his head in question, then glanced behind him to see Sam.

"Do you know him?" Blaine asked quietly, his blush and any playful camaraderie having vanished. Kurt was going to answer but Sam was calling his name.

His real name.

"Kurt, I haven't seen you in forever!" Sam said excitedly, making his way to their table. "Are you working around here?"
"Sam, it's Sunday," Kurt answered weakly, trying to distract Blaine from the fact that Sam had just called him Kurt. "I'm here with a friend."

Sam's eyes slid to Kurt's companion and smiled at Blaine widely. "Nice to meet you, man, I'm Sam. I was friends with Kurt here in high school."

"It's like everyone came to L.A. after McKinley," Kurt joked, but it was a flimsy attempt.

"Nah, just you and me. Rachel went to New York, didn't she? And weren't you in like, Greece?"

"Italy," Kurt corrected immediately. Sam nodded, his wide mouth still in a friendly smile. He seemed to notice Blaine's uncomfortableness. He cleared his throat loudly and darted his eyes towards Blaine in question, then back at Kurt. Kurt glared at him, trying to clearly convey to Sam that this was not the time. "Sam, it was lovely seeing you, but we have to get going."

"I understand. Things to see, people to do," Sam said flippantly, winking at Blaine. Blaine's lips tightened to the point that his mouth was simply a horizontal line. "We should catch up later, Kurt."

"Definitely," Kurt put in quickly, cursing Sam for using his name again. He stood, Blaine mimicking the action silently. "Definitely we should. Facebook me, won't you?"

"Sure."

Kurt grasped at Blaine's wrist and gently tugged him from the café, panini clasped in his other hand. They exited the coffee house, breathing in the crisp air. Blaine coughed and kept his eyes downward.

"Let's go to the exhibit, right now," Kurt said firmly, and Blaine nodded. "Which way is it? Can you lead the way?"

Blaine nodded once more and stepped in front of Kurt, his wrist dropping from Kurt's grasp. Irritatedly, Kurt took a few quick paces so he'd be step in step with Blaine. He didn't want that short encounter with Sam to ruin their day.

The exhibit was nothing compared to the Met's, Kurt thought once they were perusing the museum. He desperately wanted that one to come on tour ever since he saw it back in high school.

Blaine had been mute since their chance meeting with Sam. Kurt was becoming more and more incensed with that, but he knew that he had to be patient; he was only now understanding the extent of Blaine's androphobia.

He couldn't get into the exhibit at all once his thoughts drifted to Blaine. He was jumbled and confused over his own feelings but most especially he felt guilty because he knew just how badly Blaine could be... traumatized if he found out about Kurt being male.

Sighing, Kurt turned to Blaine, whose eyes were peeled to the display of one of McQueen's early 1996 Givenchy works. Blaine must have felt Kurt's gaze on him, but he didn't turn. Kurt fingered the gold chain around his neck lightly, rolling the daisy between his fingers.

"Do you want to leave?" Kurt asked quietly, and that caused Blaine to turn, his eyes wide.

"Do you?" Blaine questioned back, his voice small and apprehensive.

"Sort of," he replied honestly, and Blaine's shoulders slumped. "Here, let's head out, shall we?"

Blaine's nod was especially glum, and they exited the museum in utter silence.

Kurt didn't know what to say to Blaine. He didn't seem to want to talk about Sam at all.

Maybe he had really caught onto Sam calling him Kurt.

Maybe he was over-thinking things.

"Could you walk me to the train station?" Kurt asked delicately and Blaine flinched. Guilt rushed through Kurt.

"Sure."

The walk there was quiet as well, and Blaine stood a good arm's length from him as they ambled along the sidewalk.

They arrived at the station, and Blaine looked more despondent than before. Kurt pursed his lips and glanced around them to see if anyone was looking. Not a soul.

Because he and Blaine were seemingly two men departing from each other at a platform.

He darted forward and pressed his lips to Blaine's cheek, trying to keep himself in that fantasy of them being two men, with Blaine accepting him for his gender and accepting himself for all his fears and apparent flaws.

His cheek was rough with stubble but so warm.

When he pulled away, Blaine's eyes were large and his mouth was open slightly. Kurt flushed and wrung his fingers together.

"Thank you for today," he said quietly to Blaine.

With that, he spun around and rushed down the stairs to reach his train, cursing his gall.