Author's Note: Can I start off by saying holy shit, it's been forever since I updated? Well, it's been forever and I'm sorry. Excuses, excuses and more excuses. Here's a recap of everything that's happened: Blaine sort of hates his life, his friends want him to get laid, he takes Kurt (a fashionable stripper) to Vegas, if only to get laid. Drama, drama, sexy-times. Oh, and Blaine is probably in love with Kurt. I'd flip a coin, but you all know that heads is most likely to be the winner, right? I learned that when I was eight. Thank you, PBS Kids. (The more you know.)

Let's all just take a minute, hit the previous chapter button and find out what happened last. (Best. Author. Ever.)

I turned back around and threw open the doors. Kurt flinched but kept his back to me, his shoulders hunched up and his hands covering his face.

"I'm sorry," I began. "I'm really, really stupid and I say things without thinking. I try to think...but sometimes I just blank and let myself vomit up things that I don't mean to say."

He ignored me, but I could tell he was listening.

"The funny part is that I never used to be like this." I moved to the foot of his bed and sat, amazed at myself for being anything but amazing. "I used to be cool-headed and could talk a terrorist into singing the national anthem at a baseball game. Well, not exactly that…but I was good at talking. Really good."
Kurt looked down, his eyes slightly red and instantly I knew he had been crying. I wanted to jump out the window.

I took a deep breath. "I know I can't make up for the things I do, so I'm sorry. That's really all I can say."

He shrugged. Neither of us said anything and I honestly wished my apology had been more earth-moving. When did I get so bad with words? When did everything fall to shit? What the hell was I doing?

I sighed and ran a hand through my curls, trying to figure out what my next move was. All of today's events played out in my head and I felt myself straighten up.

"Why'd you ask me all those things earlier?" I asked.

He shrugged again and walked over to the bed, sitting beside me. "Mercedes and I were just talking. That's all."

"About what?"

"Me. You. Us. Whatever this is."

"What is this?" I echoed.

"Exactly."

I cleared my throat and stood up. "I guess I'll continue on making that reservation, if you're still up for it?"

He nodded and said, "Let me get ready."

"Ohp, better schedule are date for three hours from now," I joked, trying to lighten the tension.

He glared. "It doesn't take me three hours to get ready. Only two. Sometimes one, depending on how rushed I am." He stopped himself mid-diva and looked at me with wide eyes. "Date?"

I felt my jaw drop. "Did I say date? Very well then."

With a wink I left the room and headed to the phone on the night stand, sort of wondering if I should slap myself or not. I missed the days when I knew how to think before speaking. Those were good, drama free days.

-:-

The hotel restaurant was nice and quiet, even though each table was full. I was barely able to get a table near the front. Kurt didn't take long to get ready, mostly because he was excited (at least, that's what I'm assuming). He did get stuck when he was trying to find a shirt and asked me for advice, but quickly took that back when he realize I was wearing a dress shirt.

He managed to find something to wear – a midnight blue cashier sweater with a peachy-pink bow tie and black skinny-jeans with black dress shoes – and we took the elevator down to the restaurant. Without thought I put my hand in Kurt's. I think it was mostly to point out what was mine to the questioning eyes, or maybe a sort of rebellion way of saying "Anniversary dinner with the wife? Congrats on being straight, but I'm going to go fuck my boyfriend".

The waitress lead us to the table, handing us our menus and returning with two glasses of wine. Kurt raised an eyebrow at me and I whispered to him that no one would know he was underage. He happily drank it, his nose scrunching at the taste but continued to drink it.

"I'm not going to let you get drunk, so slow your roll," I said to him as I read over the food options.

"I've been drunk before," he stated.

"Oh really?" I asked.

He nodded and laughed, putting his glass down. "Back when I went to McKinley we had this new student…well, she was like thirty something. But anyway, somehow she got me to drink…oh, shoot, I can't even remember what it was. I just know that I almost got suspended when I came to school drunk and puked on the school counselor's shoes."

I laughed and the waitress returned with a big smile. "Ready to order?"

I looked over at Kurt, letting him know that I'd go after him. He grinned back at her and mused over the menu quickly. "What the hell! I'll have the Stuffed Pasta Shells with a salad on the side."

"Lovely choice. And you, sir?" she asked me.

"I'll have what he's having," I replied.

She nodded. "I'll have that ready for you in a moment. Is there anything I can get you in the mean time?"

"I think we're fine, thanks," I said and gave her our menus. She took them and left, leaving me and Kurt alone to discuss safe topics. But luckily for me, the only way to have any type of safe and non-awkward conversation with Kurt was to not have one at all. Even when I looked at him I felt like I was saying something stupid. It only got worse when the waitress returned with her food.

I had never been much of a messy eater, but for some damn reason - that reason being Kurt, of course - I was shaking and my throat was dry, so every time I tried to swallow a bite of my food I choked, and then when Kurt would try to do something comforting I'd drop bits of pasta on my white shirt and I'm sure as hell my face matched the tomato sauce. I quickly excused myself and nearly teleported into the men's restroom.

I cleaned myself up as good as I could, knowing that as soon as we got back to the hotel I'd have to either quickly take the shirt to a dry-cleaners. Actually, I'd probably just throw it away. I wouldn't want a reminder of how awful this thing with Kurt was going. And as I am the most luckiest man on Earth, when I returned to our table it occupied a new guest.

Kurt looked up at me as I walked up behind the guy who he was talking. He had a huge smile on his face but it grew smaller as he looked at me.

"Blaine, uh, this is," he started, sputtering and looking flustered. I glared down at the blonde man momentarily.

"I already know who it is," I growled through my teeth, trying to keep calm in my face.

Sam Evens turned around and faced me, a bright, giddy grin on his face.

"Blaine!" he spoke, not breaking his happy tone. He stood up and shook my hand. "It's been so long. I've tried contacting you; I sent letters... emails. I tried calling."

"I moved." Lie.

He frowned. "Oh. And you didn't try to get a hold of me or anything?"

"What are you doing?" I whispered harshly at him. I saw Kurt's eyebrows crease in the corner of my eye. I turned to him, smiled, and said, "Can you excuse us for a minute?" He nodded but didn't look any less worried. I grabbed by his elbow and pulled him as far away from Kurt as possible without leaving the state.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked him.

"And why would that be any of your business, Blaine? It's not like we're friends or family or anything."

He had me there. "Then what are you doing with my date?"

"Date?" he echoed, looking slightly shocked, mostly sarcastic, though. "I didn't know you liked guys again."

"That is so irrelevant and you know it," I hissed. "I had a bi-moment in my life, get over it."

He laughed. "I'm over it, believe me."

"Answer my question."

"Honestly I didn't know he was your date until he started talking about you."

My eyes widened. "He was talking about me?"

Sam smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, it was cute. He seems like a nice kid."

"He is," I replied.

"Did you hear me? A kid."

"I'm fully aware of the situation I'm in. And for the record, he's nineteen, not twelve."

"That still makes him a kid. What are you doing, Blaine? Is you life really this pathetic that you've sunken to pedophile status? Who are you trying to impress?"

I scoffed. "Fuck off, Sam. What's going on in my life is no business to you."

"I just don't want this kid to get the wrong impression from you. He wouldn't be the first, after all."

"This is getting old, Sam. I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but what happens is none of your business." I jabbed my finger in my chest, trying to get the point across. Mentally I pictured me popping him like a bubble, which was a lot more humorous then it should have been. I had to try and keep the smile off my face.

"You're right. I'm not going to even bother with you two, I just don't think it's fair to him, is all." He licked his lips and his eyes grew dark. "Maybe someone should warn him."

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but all I know is that I want you out of my life and especially out of Kurt's. What's done is done. Time to move the fuck on."

He glared. "You broke my heart, not the other way around. And trust me, I've moved on. But I don't think that little kid has it in him to move on from something like that. He's like a fragile, porcelain bird. The longer you keep him caged up the more he'll forget to fly."

I chuckled. "Lovely metaphor. Now fuck off."

With a pursed mouth he shoved his hands in his pockets, started at me with remorse and then made his way to the front doors. Before he could leave my sight he turned around. "By the way, the only reason why I stopped to talk to your little bird was because he was crying. If you didn't have your ass so far up your head you'd notice that something's wrong with him." With that he turned and left the restaurant, leaving me feeling like I'd been punched in the stomach.

When I returend to the table Kurt looked up and gleamed. "What was that about?"

I ignored him and grabbed my napkin, placing it on my lap before I began another shaky attempt to eat. I stopped mid-stab and looked at him. With worried eyes he watched me as I tried to find a place to start.

"What did he say to you?" I asked, my voice shockingly low.

Kurt squinted as he tried to decipher what I said, and in the end he just shrugged. I wasn't sure if it was a sign that he had no idea what I said or if he really had nothing to say about Sam.

"So, who was that guy?" Kurt asked me as he poked at his salad.

"Trouty mouth," I muttered. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Just some guy I used to..." I couldn't finish. I wouldn't finish, not now... not ever. "I'm sort of not hungry any more."

Kurt nodded. "Me too. After our little dispute I sort of felt a bit obligated to come to dinner with you. No offense or anything."

I smiled. "None taken. I sort of feel the same way."

"Hotel, then?" he asked. I nodded and payed for our partial-dinner, both of us quietly heading out of the restaurant and to the elevator, where so fortunately Sam was, not knowing that we were slowly coming up behind us. I looked at Kurt and he stared at the back of the blonde, clearly a lot going on in his head. I felt my thumb come up to my mouth and I bit on the nail nervously.

Don't turn around. Don't turn around. Don't turn around.

The doors opened and Sam stepped in them, his eyes casted down on his cellphone as he proceeded to stay occupied by his Blackberry. Kurt made an attempt to step into the elevator but stopped when he saw my sickened expression. We both watched as Sam finally looked up, with a mild grin, just as the doors began to close. It looked like he was about to say something but thankfully the doors shut and I let go of a breath that I hadn't even known I was holding.

We waited for another chance to get in the elevator and once again was greeted by the never-ending awkward silence that likes to wrap me and Kurt into it's arms.

In the hotel both of us stood around, not sure what to make of our time. We both knew how the night was supposed to end, rules and all, but neither of us wanted to stress the fact. I'd somehow managed to follow him into his room, watching him as he cleaned up and prepared for the night.

Sam's face penetrated my mind, and the meaningless things he said. Though, one thing he said did keep my mind from completely forgetting about the restaurant. I patted the tips of my fingers against my pants and looked at Kurt.

"Why did he stop and talk to you, Kurt?" I asked hesitantly, not sure if I wanted to know the reason.

"I'm not really sure," he lied. I tried not to scoff or roll my eyes.

"Well, he told me that you were crying..." I murmured. Kurt's back went straight as he continued to organize his dresser.

"I was," he stated.

"Why?"

He shrugged and closed the dresser drawer, walking over and sitting next to me on his bed. He pulled his legs up and crossed them, his head falling into his hand.

"I'm sort of depressed, Blaine."

I felt my eyes widen. "Why?"

He let out a breath. "Life kind of sucks."

I laughed without humor. "That it does."

"It's my birthday tomorrow," he revealed. I looked even more shocked at this point.

"Really? Wow! Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I hate birthdays."

I was about to tell him how crazy he was but suddenly his eyes started to mist up and I felt a lump in my throat.

"Is that why you were crying when Sam..."

Kurt snorted. "Sam? He told me his name was Joshua."

"He has trust issues," I simply stated. Kurt turned and looked at me, his brow furrowed.

"Are you two friends or something?"

"We're nothing," I replied. "Why, did he say something about me?"

Kurt shook his head. "He walked past me, saw that I was anything but chipper and asked if I was all right. I told him I was but then he asked me if he could ask me something, so at this point I was rather confused and I guess he said yes and he sat down. I think he told me a joke but I was sort of... things were fuzzy and he sort of made me feel weird so I just pretended to give a damn and never in my life have I been so excited to see a pimp."

"Are you calling me a pimp?" I asked quickly after he finished his sputtering.

"I am a whore, aren't I?"

At this his tears spilled over and bit back a sob. It was one of the most saddest things I had ever seen and I had to try my hardest not to start crying.

"Kurt! Don't cry!" I said to him, pulling him into my arms and hugging him gently. "You're not a whore."

"What's this then?" he asked, his voice muffled by my chest and his sobs. "Man asks willing person to have sex for cash, willing person agrees. The only normal ending this would have is if you chocked me out during a major coke-party or something. This has Charlie Sheen written all over it."

I laughed at his hysterics and hugged him tighter.

"If you want to seem like less of a whore, or whatever you want to call yourself, then you can not take the cash... if you want..." I threw out. He pulled himself out of my grasp and glared at me.

"Fuck you. I need that money."

"Are you PMS'ing or something?" I questioned him, staring at him intently.

"I'm not female, Mr. Anderson. No offense, but screw you. Today has been really emotional and I'd just like to go to sleep."

"I don't know, aren't you scared I roofied you and will do in your sleep and then end up killing you?" I challenged.

"If I die in my sleep I will haunt you for the rest of you life. You'll be single and lonely for the rest of you life; the only thing worth living for will be your porcelain "Precious Moments" figurines that I will eventually ruin for you."

I put my hands up, telling him that I surrender. "Geez, why don't you sleep in tomorrow?"

"I plan on it," he harrumphed, pointing towards the door.

I rolled my eyes and exited the room, shouting a "good-night, slut" towards him. I heard another "fuck you" from him and I laughed. As soon as I was sure we wouldn't be seeing each other again until tomorrow, I pulled out my cellphone and began planning.

Kurt must've had some shitty birthdays in the past. I'd make sure that this wouldn't be one of them.

Ending Note: I suffer from Writers' Block. It get's so bad that I get depressed and sulk for days (in this case weeks/months), which leads to nothing being written at all. I'll try my best to keep it at bay. Also note that the most ironic thing about this chapter is that I hate the aspect of Sam being gay. The things fanfiction does to me. I mostly blame Jenny, who is secretly brain-washing me when I sleep at night. I just know it. Plus she admitted to it, saying, "What if I write Kum? Then you have to read it." She speaks the truth.

The next update will be sooner and better than this one. I promise. Thank you to all who have been sticking through this. You're my heroes.