What are the chances?
Summary; Superstar Blaine Anderson meets Vogue intern Kurt Hummel, who unfortunately just does not seem as interested in him, as Blaine is in Kurt.
This story is based on the following tumblr prompt which was sent to me by the lovely Lilyvandersteen- thank you, hon. I've kind of adapted this a little and spun it around with a nice little twist so I hope it's still what you wanted?
What started as an innocent chance meeting between Kurt Hummel and his (secret?)idol, the world famous 27 year old Blaine Anderson, becomes way more than a regular fan encounter when for the first time in his life, Blaine finds himselfnotwanting to run away.
post/123726409714/kurtsies-au-what-started-as-an-innocent-chance
Blaine Anderson? America's gay sweetheart, star of stage and screen, pop sensation, and serial bed hopper, Blaine Anderson?
Yeah…no thanks.
Kurt laughs lightly to himself as his fingers scatter over the keyboard of his laptop. The email is sharply deleted and he goes about his work, as he does everyday.
Kurt has his own office in the New York building. Though, it's unusual for a second year apprentice. The room is small and boxlike, painted in neutral colors with faux potted plants taking up residence on the beige carpeted floor. It smells constantly of citrus scented cleaning products and the windows don't open more than a crack, but he's grateful nonetheless.
Kurt loves his internship here. The hours are long and hard but it keeps him busy and fills in the time when he doesn't haven't any classes at New York's finest Performing Art's school. The pay check for just being an intern isn't bad either.
His supervising manager, Isabelle likes him. A lot. It's probably the reason why he's left to come and go as he pleases around here. She says that Kurt is her people. He talks her language and she's thankful of having someone young and fresh faced, unafraid to speak his mind and share his true values. They've become good friends over the short amount of time that Kurt has been interning with the company, and she has been able to provide somewhat of a nurturing influence to him since he moved to the city and started working there.
He's just dropping off some invoices to her desk when she stops him with a hand on his wrist and a grin. "Did you get the company email?"
Kurt raises an eyebrow and leans back on his heels. "About Blaine Anderson?"
She nods. "He'll be stopping by our office next week. How exciting! Are you going to accept the exclusive meet and greet offer?"
"I guess that it's a great chance for those who appreciate his talent and—"
"Oh my god. You don't like him?" Isabelle sounds scandalized but humored all the same.
"I did not say that."
"No, but you were about to give me some speech about why you don't want to meet him. There are thousands of kids out there who would kill for the chance to meet heartthrob, Blaine Anderson. He's gorgeous and sings like a dream—"
"So let one of those kids meet him instead. What are you his publicist? Number one fan?"
Isabelle picks up a sheet of blank paper, scrunches it up into a ball and throws it so that it bounces off of Kurt's shoulder. Kurt makes no effort to move, instead choosing to stand there, glaring playfully at his boss.
"You just don't want anybody to see how it looks on you to have a crush. You never talk about anybody that you hook up with—"
"That's because I don't."
"Well you should. It's ok to like people, Kurt. You're young and handsome and you've got a promising future ahead of you. It could include a superstar—"
"Alright, I'm ending this. Will that be all, madam?" He asks, his smile too wide.
"Yes." She retorts, grinning back just as teasingly. "Now get out of my sight. Oh and let's do Mexican for lunch. You must try that burrito I had the other week from that place a few blocks over—"
Kurt ducks out of Isabelle's office as she carries on babbling away. He smiles all the way down the hallway back to his own desk.
He really does feel very lucky and happy in this current phase of his life, right now. He doesn't need some bigheaded, narrow minded, unfairly attractive pop star taking up his time. He has too much to do and to prove.
He just doesn't have time to slobber over some Celebrity when he has plans to become one of those himself one day.
One week later…
Kurt really shouldn't be so surprised. He shouldn't, but he is. He tries to reboot the email, to make sure it's been sent to the correct address. He even contacts the IT department to make sure his address hasn't been hacked.
But, no. Everything is as it should be, as Kurt sits at his desk gaping at the first email he opened when he logged on that morning.
Mr K Hummel,
Congratulations. Regarding your application to our exclusive meet and greet with Blaine Anderson this afternoon, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected.
Your time slot with Mr Anderson is 2.30-2.45.
A member of Mr Anderson's team will collect you from your station.
Thank you.
Kurt can not do anything but stare at the thing. He can't even move enough to delete the message or even close down the notification window.
A number of scenarios fly through his mind. He could go out on a late lunch and come back late (the queues at the Deli can get rather long.) He could call a client and make it a lengthy phone call (there are so many chatterboxes on his contact sheet).
He wants to pick up his phone or march straight down to Isabelle's office and demand an explanation. He knows, he just knows that she is behind this but he can already hear her heels clicking across the hallway's hardwood floor; her laughter high and loud and infectious.
"Isabelle!" He says as calmly as he can manage once she's at his desk, her smile sickly sweet and her eyes sparkling.
"What?" She shoots back, her voice a perfect soft pitch with a tone of innocence.
"You know what."
They glare at each other until she gives up the act in only about 2.5 seconds, her smile widens as she drops herself down into a chair in front of him.
"Look, here's the deal. Honestly? I have a lunch meeting across town, a bunch of us are going and I just know I'll be out all afternoon. And because I'm management I couldn't decline the offer to meet a celebrity of such high calibre. It would look bad. So, I had to nominate somebody."
"And you couldn't have thought of anybody else? Nobody at all out of the hundreds of people who work in this building?" Her smile tightens a little but her eyes still shine brightly, her gaze unfaltering.
"Somebody from my team had to take my place."
"Jessica likes his songs, I've heard her sing a couple—"
"She's on vacation."
"Oh, well I know that Leonard took his nephew to see one of Blaine's shows. He could have—"
"Leonard's off sick. Bronchitis."
"…what about Marie—"
"Hospital appointment. Six month baby scan. She's having twins."
"Ugghh, will you have an answer to everything I suggest?"
"Yes. Why are you so angry about it? It's fifteen minutes with a cute guy who has the world at his feet—"
"I'm not angry. I'm just not impressed by people like him."
"People like what? Successful people? Talented people? Gorgeous? Rich? Funny…and he can play like four different musical instruments or something—"
"Does your husband know about this infatuation you have with Blaine Anderson. Is he on your Top Five Hall Pass list? Number two?"
"I'm ignoring you. You don't have to be impressed by him. Don't even enjoy it, just act like it."
"Well you're in luck cause that's exactly what I'm going to have to do. This is why i am top of my class in drama school, I'll show you! And anyway, Do you even know anything about the guy? Like personally, aside from his looks and his fame?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm really not interested in fame hungry attention seekers like him, walking around thinking he's god's gift because he can act and sing and dance. So what? Other people can do that too—"
"You're jealous!" Isabelle points to him with a wide smile. Kurt snaps his mouth closed and starts to shake his head. "You are, I can tell. I totally know you, Kurt. You can't dislike people because you want what they have, Kurt. You never know, he could help you, ask him some questions, take some advice. And be nice."
Isabelle starts to back away from Kurt's desk before he can retort with anything, her smile still intact until she disappears out of his sight.
Kurt heaves what a feels like a monumental sigh and shakes his head. He's been had.
Stars like Blaine Anderson were born into money. Their parents sent them to ridiculously expensive schools and paid for special training and singing and acting classes. Blaine has had every musical instrument under the sun bought for him, every stitch of clothing he wears is probably designer and custom made.
Kurt has never had that life. Nor does he want it, but he wants to be appreciated for working hard for the future he deserves. Every dime that goes towards creating his dream has been earned with blood, sweat and tears. The amount of time he has missed out on with friends because he's either been practising, uploading an audition tape to YouTube or just worn out; is endless.
Kurt doesn't want to meet Blaine so that he can hear him brag about his life and how he made it.
There's no way of getting out of the greet, Kurt knows this. But really what could be the worst that could happen? It's not like they're going to see each other again? Isabelle's right, its only 15 minutes of his day and Kurt could even walk out after 5 if he wanted to.
Kurt is mature, wise and respectable. Probably three things that Blaine is not, and because of that Kurt wants to prove something not just to himself but to the world; that talented people do not have to be jerks or stumble down the wrong track.
People like Kurt can make it too.
A short while later an email notification dings up on his screen as he tries to get on with day and not dwell on the inevitable. He rolls his eyes as he clicks open the file and sees that the sender is Isabelle. He sighs particularly loud when a picture begins to load, and his "oh my god" accompanied by a groan is unmistakeable when Blaine Anderson's too handsome for his own good, smiling face pops up on Kurt's screen; with "I can't wait to meet you, Kurt" printed in bold text beneath it.
"Mr Anderson is very busy right now. He's postponing an international tour to take part in these meet and greets right now. He loves his fans. They mean the world to him…"
Kurt zones out the shrill, speedy voice of Blaine's young assistant (probably a groupie) as she ushers him down the hallway towards the elevator shaft.
I do not care.
Once in the elevator the girl with brown, shiny hair falling over her shoulders and a too white smile leans forward to push the button named 'Rooftop.'
She catches Kurt's eye, "It's nice out today and Mr Anderson loves being outside and having fresh air."
Of course he does, Kurt thinks and rolls his eyes when he looks down at his shoes.
"He's hired a lemonade stand to be set up there. He wants all his guests to feel refreshed."
Oh my god.
A few moments later the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open revealing a wedge of golden sun slicing through the pale blue afternoon sky.
The rooftop is decorated beautifully with potted plants and dark wooden décor and furnishing. In the far corner is a canapé sloped over a swinging love seat. Blaine is sitting regally on one side, a knee crossed over his leg and an arm spread over the back of the couch.
A crowd of people wearing dark clothes and sunglasses with head sets are scattered all around. A large, bulky man approaches Kurt and asks for permission to check for any dangerous items. Kurt nods begrudgingly.
Really, does he think he's the president or something?
Blaine's dark shades cover his eyes (which Kurt knows from accidently glancing at photos of him in magazine spreads, are usually an enchanting mix of honey and emerald green.) He's wearing a pair of dark, ripped skinny jeans which are cut off at his calves, and a white tank top covered by an unbuttoned, short sleeved, brightly patterned shirt. His feet are bare and a pair of distressed leather sandals are discarded on the ground below his swinging feet where the seat is gently rocking back and forth. His toes are perfectly manicured, Kurt can't help but notice.
"Hi." He says brightly as Kurt is ushered forward towards him. There's a dazzling smile creeping on to his lips and Kurt suddenly hates the fact that he can't see Blaine's eyes. He already doesn't trust him but not being able to see what Blaine is looking at is freaking him out.
Just 5 minutes. Just 5 minutes—
"Welcome. Thank you for coming up here today to meet with me."
Oh, please. Drop the act—
Blaine slows his rocking and stands, accepting a card that is handed to him. "Mr Hummel?" He reads out loud.
Yes, you're not getting my first name.
"Yes. Hi, Mr Anderson. It's…nice to meet you." Kurt has to swallow down the taste of bitter sourness from his tongue.
"Like wise. And please call me Blaine." Blaine smiles warmly. He pauses as if waiting for something but Kurt stands his ground, barely looking at the man in front of him.
Blaine's infamous curls are softly flowing from side to side under the gentle afternoon's breeze. His skin is tanned, a flawless complexion and as he turns to sit back down Kurt allows himself to take a quick reassuring breath. He feels a tiny dot of sweat bead up on his brow.
It's just the heat.
"Please, come sit with me." Blaine calls brightly, a hand gestured towards the spare space beside him.
Oh I'd really rather not. But Kurt knows there isn't really a choice in the matter.
Once sat down and settled as far away from Blaine as is appropriate, even though Blaine has shifted closer and moved his arm up and around Kurt's shoulders; Kurt pats down his clothes, straightens his posture and finally turns in Blaine's direction.
Blaine is smiling broadly at him. And he has taken off his sunglasses.
Whoa!.
His eyes are like bright sparks of amber but somehow look deep and dark as they bore into Kurt. He glances back down at the card in his hand. "It says here that your first name is Kurt. Can I call you Kurt?"
Kurt manages to keep his groan inwards and nods as friendly as he can.
"Would you like some lemonade, Kurt?" Blaine's voice is low and quiet. Cautiously, soft. He gestures towards the little stand towards the right of the swing.
Does this ass ever stop smiling? "No thank you. I'm fine." Kurt stops and waits until he realizes that he is the one that is supposed to be asking Blaine the questions.
Damn. What the hell do I say?
"So, Mr Anderson, I—"
"Am I correct in believing that you attend a Performing Arts School here in the city, Kurt?"
"Yes" Kurt answers, slow and quiet and careful. He tries to peer but fails at the little card in Blaine's hand.
"That's awesome. Me too- well I used to." Blaine grins proudly.
Is that right? Kurt had read somewhere that Blaine attended a private Art's Academy somewhere in Europe.
"Which school?" Blaine asks before Kurt can get a chance to think of something to say.
"Um- Tisch at—"
"NYU" Blaine finishes for him. "Wow, cool coincidence. I miss that place."
"You- you went there?" Kurt tries to keep his voice calm and steady. He would hate for Blaine to think that he actually cares.
Blaine smiles again but this time it's a little sadly, soft around the edges. "Yeah. I loved it. That was back when I—" He sighs wistfully. "Well it was before now. It was another life."
Do not try and make me feel sorry for you.
"Oh" Is all Kurt says, but his tone isn't as clipped as before. "I heard- I read that you—"
"Never believe everything you hear or read, Kurt. That's advice 101 for you. With this life comes another character that you must slip into, and with them comes rumours and lies and a whole other role to play."
Kurt is trying incredibly hard not to let his mouth fall open. He cannot believe what Blaine has just admitted to him. A total stranger.
Kurt is not dumb, he knows that the celebrity life is not what it's cracked up to be. He knows that there are two sides to every story. It's just weird and ever so surprising hearing it from Blaine so plain and simple.
For lack of knowing what to do or what to say, Kurt glances down at his watch and finds that almost 6 minutes have passed.
Hallelujah!
"I understand that you're a hard and busy worker" Blaine says watching Kurt look down at his wrist. That bright and bold tone has returned to his voice. "I must be keeping from you so many important things."
What exactly is written on that card about me?
"Yes, well. Thank you, Mr Anderson—"
"Blaine."
"Ah- yeah, Blaine. Thank you for this…insightful chat. But I must get back to work."
Kurt stands and to his surprise Blaine stands with him instantly.
"I feel like this has hardly been insightful" Blaine says with a little cheeky grin. "I've hardly learnt anything more about you, Kurt."
Anything more about me? Wasn't this thing set up to learn more about you? What the hell is happening here?
"Uh- yes well, thank you, again." Kurt curses inwardly. He's never rendered speechless. He's always at the top of his game.
Kurt moves to take a step back and Blaine annoyingly takes a step with him. Closer. He puts out a hand and Kurt would roll his eyes if wouldn't be seen as impolite.
They shake hands tightly but as Kurt pulls his hand back he is suddenly pulled into a unexpected hug. Blaine's arms hold Kurt snugly around his middle, his hands resting over the lapels of Kurt's fabric blazer.
Jesus! Oh my god, he smells amazi- stop it!
Kurt leaps away from Blaine and lets out an awkward little giggle. Blaine continues to smile and stare. "Would you like an autograph, Kurt? A picture?"
Ha! "Um, no thank you it's quite alright."
"Pity." Blaine mumbles and Kurt's eyes widen comically as his eyebrows rise almost to his hairline.
Kurt turns on his heel and walks off towards the elevator without a moment's hesitation or a final glance. He can hear Blaine's assistant clip clopping behind him.
"I can find my way back to my office, thank you." He turns and says politely as possible. The assistant halts abruptly and gives a measured hum before spinning and striding off in the other direction.
In the background he is sure he can hear Blaine laughing but he dare not look.
Once in the elevator Kurt waits until the doors are closed and slumps back against the mirrored wall.
Thank god that is over. What even was that?
He straightens up and slides a hand into his blazer pocket to retrieve his key card that will get him back down to his department and safely into his office.
Only his fingers are not met with the familiar plastic laminate of his work's ID.
Instead Kurt pulls out a thick, shiny black business card with Blaine Anderson's face shadowed in the background and his personal contact details on the reverse.
Biting his lip, with a deep sigh and an accompanied groan, Kurt pushes the Rooftop button and slumps back against elevator wall.
Thank you for reading, please do let me know what you think so far. Hopefully I'll update soon.