WATC 3

The moment that Kurt finally, finally reaches his office back downstairs in the safe zone of his department, he swiftly and a little haphazardly clears up his days work from his desk and shuts down his computer.

He cannot leave the building any quicker if he tried.

Just the thought of Blaine being up there on the roof of Kurt's work building, just hanging out there, sipping lemonade and terrorizing the Vogue staff; is driving Kurt crazy.

Who does that asshole think he is? And Isabelle? Exactly what role is she playing in this shit-show of a game?

Kurt doesn't even bother to call or send a message to Isabelle; his devoted boss, his friend and confidant. He doesn't even stay for the end of his shift in fear of Blaine wandering down to his office to come and find him.

If this is what Isabelle has had planned all along, to involve Kurt with Blaine and his scheming, then Kurt knows that she'll understand his sudden and hasty leave of absence this afternoon.

Depending on the results of tonight, he may not even show in the morning. It's been a long while since he's played hooky.

This has become a game and Kurt is now a dedicated player. He's not going to humour Isabelle by letting her know he's on to her.

He's going to play this game and he's going to play it well.

He spends the rest of his afternoon sending and replying to work emails, tucked into the corner of a little internet café down the block from his apartment. His roommate, Tai doesn't have any classes today so he'll be taking up residence on their couch or at their tiny kitchen table with books and food cluttered everywhere.

Kurt likes Tai, they watch the same shows and share similar interests, he's likes to eat out and go for walks and can keep himself to himself when he needs to, and that's what has kept their friendship going the past two years they've lived together. However, Tai likes Kurt a hell of a lot and has declared them best friends since the day they met. Spending time with Kurt is always a bonus for Tai.

Kurt can't quite bear the thought of sitting on his single bed in his shoebox room with just the four walls to look at, and he's not quite in the mood for socializing with Tai who will no doubt have a million questions about his early arrival and his sour mood.

His phone buzzing and skittering across the small rounded table he's sitting at disrupts him from gazing at his laptop. He scowls at the unidentified number as he thumbs open the notification.

Be ready for 7, my driver will collect you from your door. Looking forward to seeing you again. B x

He ignores and then deletes the messages and slams his phone down on the table with force. In fact, if Kurt wasn't fond of his cell phone and needed it like he needed his right arm, he would have flung it to the other side of the coffee shop.

He's well aware that not responding to Mr Anderson's message will not do much in yet spur on Blaine's eager excitement in this crazy web he's trying to spin.

Kurt doesn't leave the cafe until 6, and that's only because its closing time and he is forced to leave. He walks home at a leisurely pace, more dawdling than anything and is pleased to find it has taken him almost 30 minutes to get home from a usual 5 minute journey.

He's a little disheartened to find that he has the apartment to himself when he opens the door. Tai works nights at a restaurant downtown and though Kurt is usually thankful for the peace he was kind of hoping for a distraction tonight.

Kurt always takes pride in his appearance and has known himself to spend many an hour preparing his face and body for leaving his apartment. Each item of clothing is usually chosen with precision and matches the other perfectly.

Tonight? Kurt could care less. He hops in and out of the shower; towel dries his hair and blasts it with some hairspray with just a slight teasing of his comb. He uses a spritz of cologne and swipes a pair of black skinny jeans from his closet, picks out a plain, deep purple shirt and after sliding into and lacing up a pair of doc martins, he's ready.

Unfortunately for Kurt, he's one of those types that looks good just rolling out of bed, or during a run on a particularly warm day. No matter what he wears or how he styles his hair, he can pull it off. With his creamy, clear complexion and long, slender body type there isn't much that can stop Kurt from looking good.

Kurt gives his mirror one last look and a long, deep sigh before he trudges off to find something around the apartment to keep his mind distracted.

He could have easily said no to tonight. He knows that. He could have called or text or emailed Blaine back and told him exactly what he could do and where he could go with a few choice words and suggestions.

But Kurt would be lying if he said his interest wasn't piqued. That's why he stands in the hallway, back against the wall and staring at the doorway as if it's said something to offend him.

There's a knock on the door at 18.59. Kurt eventually answers the door at 19.04.

Downstairs on the street, there is a black limo, with tinted windows parked up on the curb. The rear passenger door is opened and held for him and Kurt hesitantly slides into the backseat.

"Good evening. You look wonderful." Blaine says low and velvety. He's sitting on Kurt's right hand side, unbelievably close and smelling just as divine as he did earlier. He leans in a little more when Kurt still doesn't turn to look at him. "You smell it too."

Kurt chokes on air, leans away towards the window and when he finally turns to look, gape, at Blaine he's met with that too familiar grin.

Blaine's eyes are trailing up and down Kurt's body, his eyes dark and shimmering under the thin strips of white light covering each side of the limo's ceiling. There is a definite look of approval on Blaine's face.

To Kurt's utmost disdain it looks as though he and Blaine are dressed very similarly this evening. Both in dark, eye catching jeans and simple but startling button down shirts. Blaine has his sleeves down and buttoned at the cuffs with a pair of sparkling cufflinks, though Kurt has chose to wear his sleeves rolled up messily to his elbows.

"Start talking." Is all Kurt says when he feels the car pull off from the pavement and join the busy flow of New York City traffic. He narrows his eyes to look at Blaine with the most serious expression he can muster. He surprises himself by finding it a little difficult to stay focused. God damn him and his good looks. Get your head in the game, Kurt.

Blaine laughs and holds his hands up either side of his head, eyes glimmering with mischief. "Whoa, don't you want to get a drink with me first? Order an appetizer? I mean I could have my driver turn this thing around and head towards my—"

"Mr Anderson!" Kurt's voice is full of authority but his head is really having a hard time keeping it together.

Blaine's smile is so wide and bright, his eyes so warm and inviting. Everything about him is charming. He's like a child; silly, annoying and irritating but somehow so adorable that he manages to crawl under your skin and peck away at you until you crack and fall in love with him.

Ok that was a bit much. Well either way, not this time. Not with Kurt.

"I've given you this chance to explain to me exactly why the hell you know so much about me, what my boss has to do with it, and why you're using up all of your time and effort on me when you could have anybody you want!? So, please use this time wisely, because if you don't choose the right words by the time we get to the restaurant, I'm out of here!" Kurt finishes, actually rather delicately.

Blaine sits back, rubs his jaw with his hand and furrows his brow. His smile is still there though small and tight.

Oh look at that, he's actually listening and thinking about what somebody else has to say for once.

Blaine's eyes flicker down to his shoes and back up to Kurt's face, an expression crosses his face which looks a mixture of awe and uncertainty. How curious, I don't think I've ever seen him look so sheepish.

Kurt makes a show of glancing down at his watch. An eyebrow quirked.

That grin of his appears again as he looks at Kurt with a look more sure than it was before.

"I've already told you that I got my performing arts degree at NYU, like you." Blaine begins quietly, "could we start there?" He asks, and his voice is so small and pitched so low that Kurt is very intrigued by him in this moment. By what he has to say, not intrigued by him.

Kurt eyes Blaine suspiciously. He's came this far, he has to find out where this all came from and where Blaine intends it to go. He must.

"Like I said, you have until we get there to make your pitch, then I'll decide if I want to hear the rest."

Blaine nods, showing his understanding of Kurt's statement. He grins again and Kurt just knows that he's about to say something annoying.

"What if I kind of feed you clues and you pick them up and fill in the gaps?" He sounds so excited by his own ridiculous idea. "Kind of like Hansel and Gretel?"

Kurt rolls his eyes completely uncaring that Blaine is sitting just inches away from him and is watching his every move. "Must you?" Can't you just fucking tell me, like a proper adult?

"It'll be fun" Blaine nods, and grins so hard that Kurt thinks his face may split into two. "Ok, so last Spring I was invited to attend a talent mixer at—"

"My school." Kurt finishes for him, stilling. His face pales.

Blaine claps his hands together. "Well done. One point to you. I knew you'd pick up this game fast and find it fun."

Kurt scratches a hand through his hair. He knows where this is going.

"There were all kinds of extraordinary talents there but there was this one young man who really caught my eye. He sung—"

"—I have Nothing by Whitney Houston." Kurt mutters. "Ok I get it, you saw me. What now? Why all of this?"

Blaine pouts playfully. "Don't ruin the game, Kurt. There's more."

Kurt inhales deeply. Counts to 5.

"Because of my celebrity status and experience on stage and screen, I was asked to commentate on the acts but to do so anonymously so that there wouldn't be any hurt feelings."

Kurt feels suddenly drained of all the blood in his face and of all emotion. His heart thumps wildly behind his ribcage. He knows exactly where this is going.

Blaine continues blabbering, oblivious to the realization springing upon Kurt. "It was kind of a like a silent—"

"Auction. Yeah I remember" Kurt snaps. "I remember getting the highest rated comment and on the back of the card the compliment was so very…" Kurt blushes and trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

Blaine hums knowingly, "you were amazing. You looked it too and when I asked about you, I heard that you design your own clothes. Wow!"

"You asked to meet me." Kurt says quietly, he's finding it hard to look at Blaine now. "On the back of the card you left an unidentified email address and asked me to contact you."

"You didn't." Blaine nods, eyes flashing. "Why?" He breathes, "It made me so very sad."

Kurt gawks at him, voice rising in pitch. "The card didn't say who it was from. How the hell was I supposed to you know it was you."

"Would you have been interested if you did know?" Blaine asks quietly, and the tone and pitch of his voice is one that Kurt can't quite place. It's as if those words have really taken some effort for Blaine to say.

"I was." Kurt whispers, squeezing his eyes closed and shaking his head like he can't quite believe what he is saying. "I was interested in you. I loved every show and every song you sung. Every TV program you starred in, I taped. I idolized you, Blaine." Kurt gulps hard and swallows down whatever else he was going to say.

He can't believe that he's been exposed this way. He opens his eyes again, hard and angry, almost lifeless.

"What changed?" Blaine asks him but he's not bold and bright and bigheaded. He's quiet and hunched in on himself, his eyes hollow and sad.

"You did." Kurt mumbles. He twines his fingers together in his lap and forces himself not to look up at Blaine until he's finished speaking. "You were in a dressing room behind the stage and after the show had ended and the crowds had left and the staff were cleaning up, I snuck down the hall and knocked on your door. I called your name and knocked again. You didn't answer—"

Blaine's hand is suddenly resting on top of both of Kurt's. "Kurt—

"

"I opened the door just a crack and you appeared, half naked, a bottle of vodka in your hands and told me to go away—"

"Kurt, you need to understand—"

"There was somebody else in that room with you, though I couldn't see clearly—"

"Kurt- I—"

"I defended you back then. I didn't think you were anything like any of those other sleazy—"

Suddenly the car jerks to a stop, and the intercom above their heads crackles to life. "Sir, we have arrived. Should I come and open your door, sir?" The driver's voice says friendly and airy and completely oblivious to what's happening in the back of the car.

Blaine's hand, warm and a little heavy on top of Kurt's, stays right where it is. His fingers push down a little onto Kurt's, a hopeless attempt at a reassuring squeeze. He ducks his chin and tries to gain eye contact with Kurt.

When Kurt looks at him, Blaine's eyes are open and raw with emotion. He's begging and pleading, he's apologizing. His face is etched with guilt and hope and so much more, all at once.

"Will you come to dinner with me?" He whispers. Another squeeze. "Will you hear me out, please? I promise I won't contact you again if you don't want me to, after this."

Shit…