A/N: Welcome everyone who is new to the story. I want to say a huge thank you for all the recent follows/reviews/favorites! I've noticed some people read my one-shots lately and I'm not sure if it's coincidence or not but either way, thank you all for supporting this story. I'm astounded that this fic has over 200 follows and again very grateful to all of you.
I wrote a big chunk of this while "on the job" so I'm sorry if it feels rushed or anything. This chapter has always been a part of the story plan so hopefully it doesn't seem too out of the blue.
Kurt walks down the lane leading toward Rachel's outlandish office space, hidden just far enough from downtown to be in her price range (not that price is ever really a deciding factor with the woman). On his stroll he lets his eyes fall over the familiar surroundings: chest-height oak saplings swaying in the light breeze, various people traveling the sidewalks (there is no unpopulated space in New York City), the random street performer or newsstand placed here and there, the quaint boutiques and bakeries hoping to thrive on the business of wandering tourists. He eyes a newsstand for a minute longer than usual, planning on stopping and picking up the latest edition of Vogue (he'd accidentally let his subscription run out last month but he would soon remedy that). He approaches the business setup and steps under the awning to protect himself from any sudden sun exposure. Then out of the corner of his eye a familiar face catches his attention. The face is his own.
Wondering what the article could possibly be about (Are they still talking of that last show?), Kurt grasps the glossy spine of Who's Who, a notorious tabloid. He should have known better than to look. There, on the front cover for the world to see, is a picture of him hugging Chandler, one of his former models. The headline typed in boldface right above their heads states: Kurt Hummel, off the market?
Kurt feels the urge to dry gag at the thought of dating Chandler. The guy's nice and he has a geek chic sense of style, but after a few days of his company Kurt had nearly gone insane from the endless chatter and countless not-so-subtle attempts at flattery. And he puts up with Rachel on a nearly daily basis, so that was saying something. Who believes this garbage anyway? Kurt asks himself as he carelessly tosses the magazine back onto its rack. He grabs his original purpose for this little visit, smiles at it as with a friend who shares a common secret, and then pays the man standing behind the counter before waltzing off to his destination.
Usually Blaine isn't a fan of staying at another person's place. It just feels weird somehow, all the unfamiliar rooms with their different layouts and the question of what is and isn't completely appropriate behavior. Luckily Santana's lodgings lead to no such anxieties. Here he can feel fully comfortable standing on the couch while belting out a Disney classic or walking through the rooms in just a pair of baggy sweatpants, though he usually avoids the latter in Santana's presence in order to preserve what's left of his innocence.
And so it is that now he stands in the apartment's small kitchen, rifling through the contents of the refrigerator in search of a post-shower snack. Unfortunately nothing seems to his tastes at the moment, not even the leftover Chinese takeout from last night. Blaine decides to move his search to the pantry cabinets, stocked with dry goods as well as various junk foods. Maybe it's a little early for a pint of ice cream or a family-sized bag of Doritos... but then a package of Oreos catches his eye. Perfect! Now all I need is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And something to drink, of course.
As Blaine lays out the loaf of bread, jar of crunchy peanut butter, and jar of grape jelly, something lying atop the island counter's surface draws his focus away from the task at hand. Laying there haphazardly is a magazine, something cheap by the looks of the advertisement on the back cover. Curious, he flips the thin booklet over and immediately wishes he hadn't because plastered there on the front cover is Kurt hugging some other guy. They look like good friends with big smiles and arms placed familiarly around the waist or neck. The sight of it brings a flurry of feelings to Blaine's mind. And that guy, whoever he is, staring right into the camera lens with a hint of a self-satisfied smirk doesn't make Blaine feel any better.
Who is this guy? Blaine has never seen him before in any of Kurt's line campaigns or shows, hasn't heard Kurt speak of any guy he has a special affinity toward with blonde hair and nerdy glasses. Maybe they're just old friends? But even Blaine knows that's a stretch. There's obviously something going on between the two, or at least there had been.
Why hadn't Kurt said anything about a boyfriend? Did he think Blaine would be hurt or jealous or unreasonable? Was lying a casual past time of his? Did he think Blaine wouldn't ever find out? And that stupid headline: Kurt Hummel, off the market? Honestly, who comes up with these things? Just because of one hug, the tabloid automatically assumes Kurt is in a relationship with the guy. And yet... isn't that exactly what Blaine had just done?
But no, his case is different. He knows Kurt. Blaine has seen the way Kurt smiles when he's annoyed (mostly at Finn or Rachel), has seen Kurt laugh, has listened to or read every single one of Kurt's interviews. And that look on Kurt's face doesn't look forced or fake. It looks genuine.
Despite his best efforts, Blaine can hear the voices of doubt in his head, swarming every inch of his mind with their 'I told you so's and 'It was all in your head's. But it couldn't have been just his imagination running away with him! That almost kiss, the way Kurt would smile just for him, the way Burt had sounded so sure about the possibility of the two of them. Who knew a person better than their own father? Well, Blaine adds as he thinks of how well his own father knows him, at least when the relationship is like Kurt and Burt's.
He was just being nice, his self-depreciating side argues. You were his son's guest after all, and anyone can tell how bad you have it whenever Kurt's name is as much as mentioned.
But he gave me the 'if you hurt my son I'll hurt you' talk, Blaine argues feebly.
No, he said you had his permission to try to woo his son. He never said you'd be successful.
Blaine groans aloud and lays his head against the cool surface of the island. This should not be happening. Just the other day he was on top of the world, meeting Kurt's family and having dinner with the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He'd intermingled with Kurt's friends, chatted with Finn, charmed Carole, and even received Burt's blessings should he finally dredge up the courage to ask Kurt on a date. And now he sat here dejected in Santana's kitchen with a stupid life-ruining tabloid crushed between his fingers feeling like he'd made the Olympic team only to come in last place. Life just isn't fair to Blaine Anderson.
Kurt nods a pleasant hello to Sandy, Rachel's receptionist/secretary, then makes his way up the short flight of stairs on his left into the hallway that contains Rachel's office space. It's still a bit ridiculous in his opinion that she even has an office space, considering her only major clients are Kurt himself and a blossoming Broadway hopeful named Summer Paulsen. But, well, Rachel is Rachel.
The beige walls of the corner office blend well with the hardwood flooring, but Kurt doesn't think he'll ever get over the amount of pink Rachel still employs when engaging in interior design. Pink cushions, pink lamp, pink picture frames... virtually every accessory to be found in the room is pink. Only Rachel Berry could bring him so close to sincerely hating a color.
Rachel turns away from her computer screen at the sound of Kurt's entrance. A smile graces her features but Kurt can tell from years of friendship that the gesture is forced if not altogether fake. "Kurt! Just the man I wanted to see."
"Hey, Rach," Kurt greets as he slides into the comfy chair presiding over the visitor's side of Rachel's desk.
"We need to have a little discussion," she says, the smile sliding off her face and replaced by something more serious. "Have you seen this?" She slides that same issue of Who's Who, the one Kurt had seen on his way over, across the desk.
Kurt nodded, taking it in hand. "Yeah. Who even took this photo? I didn't see anyone around that day."
"You know how cunning the most desperate of paparazzi can be," Rachel replies. "But I'm more concerned about the actual article. Did you read it?"
No, he hadn't. But Kurt realizes he should have done so before dismissing it earlier. He opens to the designated page after some insistence from his manager and skims the passage there. Kurt Hummel spotted in the arms of another man... rumored romantic interest... the two have worked together before... Chandler is said to be very close with the designer...
Kurt sighs and lays the magazine down. Just run of the mill stuff. Not all that bad, but still annoying and unnecessary. His love life is his own business. Not that he has much of one anyway.
"What about it?" Kurt finally asks after sitting in pensive silence for a few minutes.
"Kurt, I often try not to be so blunt with my clients, but you're a friend and a special case. So I feel I must ask a personal question: have you considered the repercussions if a certain college student read this?"
"College student?" Rachel says nothing, but gives him a pointed look. And then it hits him. "Oh, Blaine! Rachel, what if he sees this and doesn't know it's just gossip fodder? What if he actually believes I've been seeing Chandler?" He's five seconds away from a nervous breakdown. He and Blaine have been getting along so well, getting to talk more often through text and seeing each other the other night at family dinner had been a wonderful night, even more so because of Blaine's presence. What would he do without that sense of humor or the random bouts of singing? And Blaine's beautiful eyes and easy-going smile and infectious joie de vivre?
"Kurt, calm down."
"I can't calm down! This is your fault! I was perfectly fine a few minutes ago before you brought this all up!" Kurt pushes himself up from his seat and tries to prevent fainting from hyperventilation. "I can't do this! I have to call him right now!"
"Kurt, relax. Sit down." When she sees her words have no effect, Rachel tries a different approach. "We don't even know for sure whether or not Blaine has seen it," she rationalizes. "This whole meltdown of yours could be for naught."
"I guess you're right," Kurt concedes, dropping carelessly back onto the chair he previously claimed. "I hope you're right."
Santana walks up the flight of stairs that lead to her homely apartment, one hand holding various pieces of mail and the other grasping a bag full of Blaine-approved snacks. Men and their food. But in all reality she's happy to have Blaine. He has been the one person she knows she can always count on regardless of the time of night or the severity of the law broken. She can talk about clothes and music, food and movies, gals and guys, and pretty much anything else in the universe with him and for that she's infinitely grateful. And if she's in a mood which doesn't involve talking? Blaine is still right beside her, spooning her some ice cream or simply holding her close. She even feels comfortable enough to traverse the subject of feelings, which no one else gets the honor of.
That is why when Santana enters the apartment with a greeting yell and receives no answer, she intuitively knows something is wrong.
She drops the mail on the coffee table in the front room and walks toward the kitchen to put away the various food items she'd picked up especially for her dumb yet adorable best friend. The sight that meets her eyes nearly tears her heart in two.
She hurriedly stashes the bags of food underneath the counter and drops beside Blaine, her arms instantly going around him in a warm, comforting embrace meant to protect him from anything and everything. She waits a few minutes for her presence to settle into his psyche and when he relaxes against her she decides he's had enough time to himself.
"Blaine, what's wrong? Did Cooper cancel on you again?"
A shake of the head is his only response.
"Did one of the Warblers die?"
"No."
"Was it something Rachel said when you were at Hummel's place? Because Kurt told me himself that she shouldn't really be listened to anyway."
Another head shake but the very brief tension in his shoulders told her everything she needed to know.
"What has that fancy-haired pretty boy done to you? I swear to all that is holy I will break into his place and burn every last piece of his precious wardrobe."
"Don't."
"It wasn't him then?"
Blaine says nothing. In this case, no answer is all the answer needed.
"What happened, Blainers? Tell Auntie Tana and she'll fix it."
Blaine can't help the small chuckle that escapes him and that quick moment of respite gives him enough energy to tell Santana everything that had happened, starting with the PB&J sandwich prep and ending with how Kurt could never care for a stupid kid like himself and what was he thinking even allowing such a fantasy to feel real. It feels good to let all of the bottled up worries escape into the air; it feels even safer since his confidante is his best friend.
"I love you to death, Hobbit, you know that. But everything you've just said to me is stupid. You have your genius moments, but this is not one of them."
Out of everything Blaine had expected to hear, those words were not any of them.
"What do you mean? It's obvious Kurt has feeling for this Chandler guy," Blaine grouses.
"Actually the only thing that is obvious right now is your gullibility," Santana counters. "Has Kurt said anything to you about this guy?"
"No, but that doesn't -"
"Has he been blowing you off at all lately?"
"No, he's actually been putting off a few things so we could talk. But -"
"Have you explicitly told him you want to tap that?"
"No! I mean why would I -"
"Then Blainers, I've got news for you. If you looked up gullible in the dictionary, there'd be a nice picture of a clueless you right next to it."
"But -"
"No buts, Anderson. If you're feeling insecure, talk to your favorite gay designer. And while you're on the line, tell him I need some new clothes."
"Santana, it's not that easy."
The Latina sighs despairingly, but her eyes soften and her lips pull up into a comforting smile. "Blaine, that guy is crazy about you. Maybe you don't see it, since you're endlessly oblivious when it comes to romance, but I know it to be true. Don't let something so trivial ruin what you could have together. Let Kurt explain his side of the story. If you love him as much as you think you do, you'll listen." With that, she walks off and closes the door to her bedroom behind her.