"I remember," Kurt muses as they dress for their bachelor party, "some time in the dim and distant past- you bent me over the side of the tub and fucked me hard. It was everything I needed and more. In fact, I still have the reminders," he smiles down at his hips, still displaying faint bruises from Blaine's fingers before he pulls his jeans on to cover them.
"That was a week ago," Blaine replies, waiting patiently in front of the mirror for Kurt to come fasten his bow tie.
"Which is a long time for us," Kurt points out.
"You've been locked away in a rehearsal studio all week," Blaine tells him. "In fact, Joe has seen more of your butt than I have, these last few days."
"Very funny."
Blaine's eyes go wide as Kurt approaches the mirror. "Anyway, you have no hope of getting anything when you wear jeans that tight. How am I supposed to get my hands down there?"
Kurt says nothing, merely raises one eyebrow at their reflections as he leans over Blaine's shoulder to tie the bow tie.
"Wait...are the jeans for my benefit, or the stripper?"
"Yours," Kurt laughs, kissing his cheek. "Now stop being jealous."
Their family and friends all gather for dinner at the Park Hyatt, taking over an entire function room, and Blaine and Kurt are seated at opposite ends of the long table, much to their displeasure.
"You'll be spending the rest of your lives together," Rachel points out as she sits on Kurt's left. "What's the point in sulking about one meal?"
"Because I can't get enough of him," Kurt explains. "The more time I spend with him the more I want to be with him."
Down at the other end of the table, Wes pats Blaine's hand sympathetically. "Just switch if you want. I won't be offended. Tell Rachel or Burt to move down here."
"Honestly, you two are getting worse instead of better," Seb says with a shake of his head. "I thought the novelty of your partner was supposed wear off after a while. Not that I'd know," he concedes with a small smile. "Though I can tell you the appeal of a one nighter is significantly lessened the morning after."
"I've barely seen him recently," Blaine tells them. "Everything is so busy. I just... I don't know, when we're away from one another we make the extra effort to be in contact as much as we can but like this...both in the same apartment but like ships that pass in the night...I just find myself needing him, craving him more and more."
"That's nice darling," Sara chirps from the other side of Sebastian.
"Why are you listening?" Blaine moans, though he can't help but smile.
"Because you're loud," she smiles back. "Now. Are we all ordered? Does everyone have a drink?"
"I think so," Wes nods.
"Okay everyone," Mike calls, standing and tapping his spoon against the glass. "I'd just like to say thank you to everyone for coming," he says weakly, gripping the edge of the table hard for support. "I'd also like to propose a toast, to Kurt and Blaine's happiness. Three weeks today we'll be raising a glass to them as husbands, and I couldn't be more pleased. So... To Kurt and Blaine. Enjoy the stripper," he laughs, as everyone raises their glasses.
He sinks wearily back into his chair and Blaine and Cooper are by his side in an instant. "Hey dad, you okay?"
"I'm fine, Blaine. Just fine. Honestly."
"I can take you back to the hotel if you want?" Cooper offers.
"Absolutely not," he says firmly. "I'm here to enjoy my son's bachelor party, and I fully intend to watch the stripper."
"You do know it's not a girl, right?" Blaine checks, which makes Mike roar.
"I'd be more than a little alarmed if it was," he says, still laughing. "Now, go enjoy the meal. Both of you."
They back away from his chair reluctantly and take their places, though Blaine notices the way in which his mom discreetly squeezes his dad's hand and offers a small smile which is full of concern. Two hours later the group splits, with all the guys plus Santana and Rachel heading to a club downtown where a private room has been hired, and everyone else going back to the hotel. Sara embarrasses both the grooms nicely by telling them to keep their hands in their laps at all times, and Carole- slightly the worse for wear- reminds them to report back on the size of the strippers manhood before collapsing into raucous giggles.
"You two didn't have to come, you know," Kurt tells Burt and Mike as they walk along the road. "I'm not entirely sure how comfortable I feel about you watching this."
"Why? How bad is it gonna be?" Burt asks, alarmed.
"I don't know, you'd better ask Joe. He organized the whole thing."
They find out the second they enter the club and are led upstairs. Two waitresses greet them, tying bibs around their necks and leading them both to two chairs on the raised stage. A lot more friends are gathered here, college friends of Kurt's, along with bewildered looking members of the Chicago Symphony. The music starts to pound and two men arrive on stage dressed in tiny thongs, their well oiled chests glinting under the lights.
"Sweet!" Sebastian cries happily as one of the men straddle Kurt. "Joe, when I get married, please organize my bachelor party! On second thoughts, just organize me a party, no need for the wedding."
"Oh my god, Blaine is going to kill you," Wes tells Joe as he sees Blaine's eyes flashing in anger when the model starts to pour a variety of liquor down Kurt's throat, who is having his head held back by the other man and is seemingly loving every second. Blaine starts out of his chair, but is quickly restrained when it is his turn, and he is left feeling giddy with the amount of alcohol and the speed of consumption. Looking to Kurt, he can see him smiling, wiping at dribbles of vodka on his chin as he takes in the sight of Blaine undoing his bow tie and throwing it down to Cooper.
"What?" he calls across the stage to Kurt as he unbuttons the top of his shirt.
"Nothing," he replies airily.
"I'm hot," he explains.
"I'd noticed."
"Okay! Time for some fun with these bachelor boys!" the hostess calls. The two models return, tugging Kurt and Blaine from their chairs and sitting down, spraying a line of whipped cream down their chests and over the front of their thongs before gesturing to the boys to start eating.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Kurt laughs in disbelief. Taking the can of cream, he saunters over to Blaine, ignoring the jibes from his disappointed friends and he unbuttons the front of Blaine's shirt.
"I haven't had enough to drink for this," Blaine moans in embarrassment.
"Oh. Well maybe I'll just go eat that cream after all," Kurt teases, starting to back away.
"Don't you dare," Blaine growls, fisitng the front of Kurt's shirt and crashing their lips together. The show becomes all about their display after that as Kurt sprays a line of cream and proceeds to lick it excruciatingly slowly from Blaine's chest.
"Fuck it. I'm not letting this go to waste," Sebastian says, and climbs on the stage to the cheers of his drunken friends where he proceeds to lick both the models clean while Kurt and Blaine make out in the corner.
"Take me home," Kurt gasps into Blaine's mouth. "Leave everyone here to get drunk at our expense and just...take me home."
"No way!" he laughs darkly. "You wanted a stripper for your bachelor party, and a stripper you shall have." They are led back to their chairs, now vacated and cleaned, and the lights change. Two firemen emerge as the crowd shouts and cheers and Kurt swallows nervously.
"Hey, Coop." Cooper turns to find Sebastian, still with a small remnant of cream at the corner of his mouth.
"Hey."
"Your dad isn't feeling too good. I'm gonna take him back, okay?"
"What? No. No, I'll take him back. You stay." Glancing over to the bar, Copper can see his dad sitting on a chair looking pale as Burt crouches at the side and holds a glass out to him. "Was it them?"
"No, no. He was laughing hysterically at their behavior, but when I came off the stage he said he felt dizzy. Look Cooper, you stay. You've flown all the way from LA for your brothers party. I don't mind, honestly."
"But you wanted to see the stripper," Cooper says, nodding to where the two firemen are now devoid of jackets and thrusting their groins in Kurt's face.
"There will be other strippers, Cooper, believe me."
"Very nice," Kurt comments up on the stage as a pert butt is wiggled inches from his face. "But he's better," he says, reaching across to find Blaine's hand.
"Same," Blaine says, turning his head to look across to Kurt with a grin and ignoring the thrusting crotch of the other stripper. "You can shake it all you want sunshine, but you'll never beat my man."
"I'd rather watch you anyday," Kurt says, licking his lips as he looks Blaine up and down. The strippers finish, much to both their delight and they jump down from the stage and head to the bar, holding hands and laughing with one another.
"Only you two could have two hot guys spread out on a platter before you and you just ignore them and talk to each other," Joe laughs as he claps an arm around them both. "Come on, let's get London drunk again."
"No, no, no," Blaine says swiftly. "No way. That was a one off. I was completely wasted."
"Oh come on old man, it'll be fun," Kurt grins as he hands him a bright blue shot.
"What are body shots?" Burt asks Wes an hour later as a very drunken Kurt announces his intention to partake in the activity.
"Um...you don't wanna know," Wes smiles. "And you also probably don't want to see your son either doing them or having them done to him. It's...kinda...sexual," he whispers, blushing furiously. "Or it is with them, anyway."
"And that isn't?" Burt nods to the bar, where disgruntled staff stand behind the counter while Blaine and Kurt, both now shirtless, kneel on the top and make out heatedly.
"Oh god. Burt, I am so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," he laughs, clapping Wes on the back. "But I am going to head back to the hotel. I don't think Kurt will appreciate waking up tomorrow and realizing I witnessed this kind of behavior."
Cooper goes too, declaring he simply cannot watch his baby brother trying to fornicate on top of a bar with a nearly naked twenty one year old. But the rest of their assembled friends seem to appreciate every second until suddenly Kurt is hauled back up to the stage and tied to a chair.
"What the...? Where's my Blaine?" he cries, tugging on the restraints. "I want my Blaine!"
"Here's your Blaine," Joe smirks as Blaine arrives on stage, dancing outlandishly to 'you can leave your hat on.'
"Oh my god! Fucking hell!" Kurt cries, laughing loudly as Blaine gyrates around him, wearing only his shirt, a fireman helmet and a pair of briefs. His eyes bulge when Blaine straddles him, pulling the helmet off before unbuttoning his shirt slowly and letting it fall to the floor. "Kiss me, mister stripper!" Kurt calls over the music. "Please! I'm begging. I'll do anything, anything you want but please kiss me!"
Blaine obliges, the rest of the guests returning to dancing and drinking once they realize they're too busy making out to carry on with the show. "Oh god, kiss me again!" Kurt cries desperately. "And untie me so I can touch you."
"No! I can't get hard here!" Blaine laughs.
"Untie me and meet me in the bathroom," Kurt tries, raising one eyebrow to make his intention clear. He sighs happily when the tie- Kurt thinks it might be Ken's- falls to the floor, and he hops from the stage and sprints to the bathroom before Blaine gathers his clothes and follows as nonchalantly as he can. "I won't last long...fuck!" Kurt whispers as Blaine kicks the cubicle door shut then simultaneously bites at his neck and unbuttons his ridiculously tight jeans.
"Me neither," he gasps when Kurt's hand finds his cock, stroking in the way only he knows how, guaranteeing Blaine will fall apart in seconds. "Jesus fuck!" Blaine moans, before sucking roughly at the skin under Kurt's jaw.
"Well I guess we've found the grooms," Joe's voice laughs from the other side of the cubicle, and Wes' voice can be heard urging him to retreat.
"Get out," Blaine growls, and then all goes silent once more. The pair kiss heatedly as they jerk each other frantically until suddenly Kurt's fingers dig hard into Blaine's shoulder and he comes, groaning in pleasure when Blaine brings his hand to his mouth and licks it clean.
"I'm gonna fuck you when we get home," Kurt whispers in Blaine's ear as he continues to pump his cock. "I haven't decided how yet. I might bend you over, or I might let you ride me. I might get you on all fours so I can watch my cock sliding in and out of your beautiful, tight little ass as I make you scream and beg for more."
"Fuck... Coming..." Blaine moans as he spills onto Kurt's hand, head thumping back against the wall of the cubical as he breathes hard. "Jesus Christ," he pants. "I can't believe we just got each other off in a bathroom stall."
"I know," Kurt laughs. "But I couldn't have waited any longer."
"I'll hold you to that, you know," Blaine grins as he pulls his pants on. "That promise of when we get home."
Kurt crowds him back against the wall, tucking him back into his underwear and zipping his fly. "Please do," he whispers before leaning down to kiss him tenderly. "Please, please do."
They return to the party- everyone pretending like they don't know what's been going on- and they dance happily with various friends throughout the night. Blaine notices Sebastian's absence eventually, and Wes fills him in, but Sebastian returns to the party and somehow still manages to leave with a stripper. Blaine's orchestra colleagues party hard, but not nearly as hard as Kurt and Blaine themselves, who finally stagger through the door of their apartment at four in the morning.
"Oh my god I'm exhausted," Kurt moans as he throws his keys in the bowl on the hall table.
Blaine kicks his shoes off and winds his arms around Kurt's waist. "Nonononono. You promised."
"I did," he nods, "and I intend to make good on that promise right now."
They are sloppy, messy, and completely perfectly imperfect as they giggle, smile and moan their way onto the floor for Kurt to drive his cock hard into Blaine's ass, still right there in the hallway. They lie on the hardwood floor together after, contemplating cleaning up but never actually doing so. Kurt crawls his way into the bedroom, Blaine following wearily on very wobbly legs, where they both collapse happily under the covers and sleep until noon the next day.
"I don't feel too bad," Kurt says in awe as they lie on their fronts with their heads turned facing one another. "Why don't I feel too bad?"
Blaine chuckles "Don't question it, just accept it for what it is and move on. Did you have fun?"
"Heaps," Kurt smiles. "The stripper turned out to be pretty awesome. You were right to be worried," he grins. "I can't work out why I'm not flailing around like a dying fish. My head doesn't even hurt. Do you feel okay?"
"Yes, but then I usually do anyway. It's the whiskey that gives me a hangover."
"Is that why you drink it when you're depressed? To punish yourself?"
"Yeah," he admits softly with a small smile.
"I'm glad you haven't felt the need to do that in so long." Reaching a hand across, Kurt runs his fingers over Blaine's stubbly cheek.
"It's a bit hard to be depressed when you're about to marry your very best friend," Blaine replies honestly. "We have so much fun together. I think that's what I'd say, if anyone were to ask what it's like, being with you. I'd say it's fun."
"Think we'll have this much fun when we're married?" Kurt asks him. "Will you still want to be getting drunk and dancing outlandishly with me? Will we still have scrabble tournaments for two? Will we still play the piano and sing ridiculously silly songs together?"
"I hope so," Blaine laughs.
"Me too. I never want us to become complacent with one another," Kurt says as he snuggles closer. "You're worth too much to me for that."
"Hmm, same," Blaine smiles, closing the small gap between them and kissing his lips. "I think we both reek of stale alcohol."
"And yet no hangover," Kurt says again, still in wide-eyed wonderment. "Whatever it was I was drinking must have agreed with me. Pity I can't remember."
"I told you, accept it and move on. Don't jinx it. Do you want some coffee?"
"I'm going to say yes," Kurt smiles. "Usually I'm too busy wailing and sobbing, clutching my stomach as I heave into the toilet. But today, yes."
"Delightful," Blaine laughs, rolling from the bed. "I'll be back in a... What the hell is this?" he cries as he steps into the hallway. "Oh! Kurt...if you're not feeling too bad, would you mind clearing up the jizz in the hallway? It's not very welcoming for visitors."
The following weekend sees Kurt take to the stage along with his graduating classmates for their production of Chorus Line. Blaine sits proudly between both sets of parents, happy that his dad seems much better as they all cheer for Kurt. They mingle in the bar afterwards- where Joe introduces Blaine to his family before he is snatched away to meet with two directors who try to persuade him to move into theatre instead of films. Kurt stands by Blaine's side, gripping his hand tightly and waiting, but nobody approaches him. Blaine knows it sits with him all week. He doesn't cry, doesn't mention it at all other than to tell him that he had garnered a favorable review in the Stage, but he clams up when Blaine starts to enthuse, telling him he's too busy focusing on his showcase to become distracted by a good report. Their time together is sparse, limited to sleeping in each other's arms and then a quick kiss goodbye in the early morning light. Blaine has a full week of performances meaning he is in the Symphony Hall all day, and Kurt is locked away at college, rehearsing, perfecting, worrying, practising and worrying some more. The day of the showcase dawns, and Blaine wakes, stretching and rolling onto his side to find Kurt staring at the ceiling.
"Hey. How long have you been awake for? It's not even six."
"Four thirty," he says monotonously, still staring at the paint work.
"You should have woken me."
"Why? What good would it have done? There's nothing you can do."
"I can be here for you. I can hold you in my arms and love you," Blaine says quietly. He reaches a tentative hand out to caress Kurt's cheek, sighing when he sees his chin start to tremble. "Come here."
And Kurt goes, falling into Blaine's arms, letting his walls crash down, releasing all the pent up emotion and frustration of the past few days as he cries hard, clutching at Blaine's pajama top until it is soaked with his tears, and Blaine just holds. His strong arms pull Kurt close, hands rubbing continuously over his back as he trembles and sobs.
"It's not fair," he cries over and over. "It's not fair. I want to be that one, Blaine. I want to be the one who has all the offers on the table, who has the directors beating down my door. I've worked so hard for so many years and I want my chance to shine. I don't care, right now, how...how...childish, or petulant I sound. I want, I want, I want!"
"It's okay, Kurt. Shhh, it's okay. Let it all out. Say whatever you want, cry, yell, scream and cry some more. No one is judging you, it's only me here."
"I want people to notice me! I want people to want to hand over their hard earned cash to watch me perform. I want people to see my name in lights and know that whatever show I'm in must be amazing because I'm in it. And...and...and it's not like that at all," he breaks, sobbing some more and swiping at his nose. "You...you...you get to live your dream, and I don't begrudge you that at all, I don't want you to think that, but I'm just standing idly by and waiting, waiting for someone to give me a shot. When is it my turn, Blaine? When?"
"Tonight, my gorgeous boy. Tonight. Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna take some time to just be, to calm ourselves and regroup. Then you're gonna shower while I fix breakfast. After that, you and I are shutting ourselves in that music room and not emerging until you are completely satisfied with your songs. And then we move onto your Shakespeare, and so on and so on. Later this afternoon I will drive you to the theatre before I take my seat to watch you give the performance of a lifetime. And after, it will be my turn to stand idle while agents, directors and writers galore fawn over you and I can very smugly tell you I told you so."
He smiles through his tears, letting out a small hiccuping sob as he sits and wipes at his eyes. "Yes?" Blaine asks him, and he nods. "Good." Blaine sits too, cradling him close again and kissing into his hair. "Don't keep it all inside, Kurt. I know you feel like you have to put on a front for everyone, that's just the way you are and I get that. But not with me, please. Never with me. Be yourself. I promise to never judge you or think badly of you. We know each other better than anyone else does. We're soul mates and in one week and one day, husbands."
"I love you so much," Kurt cries into his neck. "You're like...beyond perfect."
"For you maybe, as you are for me."
"One week and one day."
"Yes," Blaine smiles at the very thought. "But we can't let that distract us now. Let's get through today then it's a straight road to graduation and that flight to LA." He feels Kurt snuffling into his neck, his breathing now calmer and his tears having subsided to the occasional small sob. "Come on," he says, tugging him back down to the pillows before he takes his pajama top off and throws it to one side, "here," tapping his chest, he encourages Kurt to rest his head there.
"Well this is weird," he smiles.
"I think we're quite good at switching," Blaine chuckles, putting an arm about Kurt's shoulders. "Let me hold you for a while and then I'll get breakfast. Remember this though," he says softly. "Whatever happens tonight, I love you always."
Kurt does indeed excel that night. He only has Blaine in the audience this time, having convinced all the parents to take this weekend to rest before the mayhem to come. It makes no difference though, in fact if anything it helps relax him, as he goes out there and feels like he's performing solely, uniquely for Blaine. He is positively dizzy when he arrives him the bar, face scrubbed and shining, grinning broadly when Blaine hands him a large bunch of flowers.
"You were incredible. Truly," he tells Kurt sincerely. "The best I've ever seen you and I'm really not just saying that."
"Thank you!" he squeals. "I feel good. I feel sick with nerves, but good."
"Okay, keep in mind not everyone will approach you tonight," Blaine reminds him firmly. "I've seen some casting directors going already, but they had notebooks and pens and were taking copious notes when you were on stage, so don't panic if nothing happens right away."
"Excuse me?" a voice calls. Kurt turns, his professional showbiz smile in place to greet a woman, almost as tall as he is with her hair piled up in a messy bun. She wears glasses that she looks over the top of, smiling politely back at him. "My name is Anna Farris."
"Kurt Hummel, nice to meet you."
"I came to watch Chorus Line last week," she continues, "you were excellent."
"Thank you," Kurt casts an excited glance to Blaine, who as promised, has blended into the background and stands quietly but listening attentively.
"I heard you designed all the costumes, is that true?"
"Every one," he tells her proudly. "The fashion undergraduates at the Art Institute made them. I made my costumes for tonight, too."
"Wow." She shakes her head in amazement. "The thing is, Kurt, I'm a costume designer."
Blaine sees the moment Kurt's hopes sink, his eyes become darker and his bright smile falters just a little, but he remains ever the gentleman. "Oh, I see," he says, nodding even though for him, this conversation is done.
"And I have to say, I'm amazed. I am seriously in awe of your talents, young man. I've spent most of last week telling anyone who would listen about your designs- only I didn't know it was you until I called the college to find out. When they told me you'd be performing tonight I knew I had to take the opportunity to come track you down- in a non stalker type way," she laughs. "I have a proposition for you."
"Uh...thank you Ms Farris but..."
"I'd like to offer you a paid internship. There's a production of Les Mis in November at the Cadillac. I've been selected to be chief costume designer and I'm looking for someone to work alongside me, designing the costumes for the whole cast and making the outfits for the leads. If it comes off- and I work well with the person- I'd be looking to hire them on a permanent basis, and I want you to be that person, Kurt. What do you say?"
"I uh..." he pauses to laugh nervously, looking around for Blaine but he's talking with the music professor and has his back to Kurt. "Ms. Farris," he begins, taking a deep breath.
"Anna."
"Anna. That's an incredibly kind offer, and I'll admit it has my interest piqued...but I'm an actor, not a designer."
"Oh," her face falls and she nods solemnly. "I see. I guessed it was a long shot when I found out you were studying musical theatre performance, but still, if you don't ask you don't know, right?"
"Right," he says as he smiles sadly. "I hope you find someone."
"I'm sure I will, but I've a feeling they won't be nearly as talented as you," she says as she fumbles in her purse. "Look, Kurt, it was really nice meeting you," she offers her card which he takes. "I wish you every success with the acting...but if you ever change your mind...even if it's in five or even ten years time, promise me you'll call me. You could be something really special, Kurt, of that I have no doubt."
She surprises him by hugging him tight, then she smiles again and is gone. Kurt stands, noting the presence of Blaine over his shoulder without even needing to turn around. "You think I should have taken it, don't you?"
"Not right there and then, no," he says quietly before moving so they are face to face. "But I do think you should meet with her and discuss it in greater detail."
"I don't want to be a costume designer."
"I know you don't," he says evenly. "But I have to say, I'm having a hard time trying to figure out why. You spend most of your free time immersed in fashion, studying magazines, watching tv shows, sketching designs. And costume is still in the theatre, which you love. Who was it who spent an entire rainy Saturday making mock ups of the costumes you designed for Wizard of Oz?"
"I know, and as a hobby it's fine. I like the designing more than the making, I find it oddly soothing and immensely satisfying. But that's all it will ever be to me, a hobby."
"Okay," Blaine shrugs. "I'm not going to tell you to go for something if your heart's not in it."
"Thank you," Kurt says gratefully, leaning in to kiss his lips. "Why don't we go home?"
"We can't, not yet," Blaine smiles as his arms encircle Kurt's waist. "But I will permit you to kiss me again."
Kurt laughs and kisses him again, letting their lips linger together as he sighs happily.
"You! Hey, you!"
They break apart to see a small woman looking up at them and Kurt is immediately reminded of a shrew as she jabs a finger at him. "I want to talk with you. Martha Fisher, theatrical agent," she snaps, offering her card instead of her hand. "Call me."
"Uh...actually, I'm kinda not around for the next three weeks," Kurt stammers nervously. "It's graduation and then I'm getting married and..."
"Whatever," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Call me when you are around then. We have business matters to discuss."
Kurt calls after her quickly retreating back, "Business matters...does that mean...um...can I ask...are you interested in signing me?"
"No," she stops, turning around. "I'm asking you to paint my house. You've just done your showcase, kid. Whatd'ya think?"
"What the hell was that?" Blaine asks in confusion as they stand together, slightly dazed by the encounter.
Kurt stares, dumbstruck across the bar to where Martha is bustling out onto the street. "I think I just found myself an agent."