True Like
(or Looks Can Be Deceiving)

Warning: The end, and a long one at that, with a dash of smut, naturally.

Chapter 14: Serenity

A tiny whisper of sound drew Blaine's eyes across the room. He'd felt, more than heard, the hints of sadness and resignation in the quiet sigh. Kurt was standing in front of the closet, a towel around his waist and proud shoulders drooping when strong arms slid around him and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. His head leaned against Blaine's.

"What's wrong, love?" Blaine asked, brushing a gentle kiss across his cheek. Another sigh, completely silent this time. Blaine felt it in the way he breathed.

Kurt shared what he wouldn't have admitted to anyone else. "Some days I put on those clothes and I feel like I'm suffocating."

"Then stop." Blaine turned him in his arms, looking earnest.

Kurt's head shook in a small motion that barely qualified as a response. "You don't know what it's like." His eyes turned away and Blaine suddenly felt a yawning distance between them. One he hadn't even known was there. "You're not obvious. When you walk down the street, total strangers don't call you a–"

"Please don't," Blaine silenced him. His hands went to Kurt's face, drawing those eyes back to him and bridging the gap with the intensity of his own gaze. "When I walk down the street it will be with you by my side, holding my hand, and total strangers can go fuck themselves."

Kurt kissed a smiling thank you onto Blaine's lips and shook away the desolate feeling that had sprung out of nowhere. He didn't normally angst over public perceptions. "I don't care about them. I do it for the job I love, but Michael doesn't buy my disguise, even after all this time."

Blaine led him to the bed and sat, arm draped around him. "I think you misunderstand Michael's motives." Blaine took a deep breath, prepared to confess. "I, uh– I had a talk with him. About you."

Kurt was surprised. "You told him about us?"

"No. No, nothing like that. We were talking about your Viola."

"Oh." One side of Kurt's mouth curled up in a cute, bashfully pleased half-smile. "He said I did well, that day we performed."

Blaine breathed easier when news of his meddling went unremarked. "He should have. You were fantastic."

Kurt gave him a little shove, pink-cheeked. "You're only saying that because you liked practicing the kiss."

"There was that, but no. You're good. Really good."

"You're sweet." Kurt kissed his cheek, feeling decidedly better.

"Michael would agree with me. He thinks of you as the star."

"Pfft. Nonsense," Kurt scoffed at the very idea. "He's never once given me the lead."

"I know. From what he said, he gives you the tough roles. He thinks it's harder to be funny than dramatic. Even if I'm not sure I agree with that in general, I can see his point for Twelfth Night. He basically told me to my face that I couldn't pull off Malvolio."

Kurt's lips pressed together, eyes wide and bright with amusement, and Blaine leaned away slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Laugh it up, fuzzball," he sarcastically invited his boyfriend to enjoy himself at Blaine's expense. So Kurt, not wanting to be impolite, slapped a hand over his traitorous mouth with a rapid shake of the head.

While Kurt quickly evened out his features, Blaine tried to look severe. "Are you done?" he deadpanned, sending his boyfriend into a fresh giggle fit. It was one of the best feelings in the world, making Kurt laugh. His twinkling eyes and joyous laughter ranked right up there near blown pupils and breathy moans on Blaine's list of favorite things.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm not laughing at you," Kurt swore his innocence between straggling chuckles.

"What could have possibly given me that idea?" He cocked a brow and kept a straight face for Kurt, whose sunny smile lit up the room from where he'd fallen fetal on the bed. Kurt thinks I'm funny. Eat my shorts, Michael.

The laughter trickled away and Kurt lay looking at Blaine as if he were the best thing since haute couture. Blaine trailed soft fingertips slowly down his boyfriend's arm and lifted his hand to kiss the palm.

"You should wear whatever you want, Kurt. To hell with what other people think. I doubt Michael pays attention to your clothing anyway. If you were to wrap up toga-style in a rainbow flag, maybe he'd notice. Otherwise – and I have to admit I've come to admire this about Michael – I'm pretty sure he only sees your talent."

The smile faded and, to Blaine's dismay, Kurt suddenly looked ill. "You mean I did it all for nothing?" he whispered.

"Um–" Blaine couldn't think how to refute that.

"I spent the last 18 months," his voice rose steadily, "dressed like a color-blind junior accountant on depressants. For nothing?" Kurt ranted. "A year and a half of my life," he wailed, arms flopping out to the sides, "lost forever in a haze of conformist mediocrity."

"Come on, love. It's not so bad," Blaine soothed, not grinning at Kurt's histrionics. Not at all.

"Please! I looked like a 10-year old dressed in his Sunday best. By his mother. His adoptive, virginal, possibly-former-nun mother." Kurt's bottom lip stuck out in a fair impression of a 10-year old.

"I thought you were handsome." Blaine was slightly put-out to have found Kurt attractive for the last year if he'd been aiming for the opposite.

"Really?" Kurt looked at him appraisingly.

"Yes." Blaine made a petulant face of his own.

"You never asked me out."

"You hated my guts."

"Oh, yeah. Not really."

"You didn't hate me?" Blaine prompted. Fishing for compliments wasn't always successful with Kurt, which didn't keep him from trying.

"I thought you were charming and sexy. Infuriatingly sexy," Kurt reluctantly admitted. "You had a nice... walk." Ass.

"You never asked me out," Blaine parroted.

"You were a man-whore who tossed lovers aside like" used condoms "disposable handi-wipes."

"Right. Almost forgot." They shared a smile and Blaine leaned closer.

"I wasn't sure how much more of your 'infuriatingly sexy' I could take before I did something stupid." Kurt gently stroked Blaine's cheek. "I'm glad I was wrong about you."

"I'm glad you get to be yourself now." Blaine bent forward for a tender kiss, a very enjoyable one, in the middle of which Kurt's eyes flew open and he pushed Blaine back with a loud gasp. "What?" He looked down at Kurt's panicked face.

"What am I going to wear?" he squeaked and shoved Blaine off him, hopping up frantically. "I have to think." Kurt started pacing and glared at the clock. "We have to be at theater by 1:00. No time to shop." He stopped in front of the closet, only to begin pacing again immediately. "I need my things." He turned to Blaine. "Get dressed. We're going to my apartment so I can pick out something for today. Tomorrow morning I'll box up this frump collection and replace it with the good stuff."

"Great. I'll help. Um–" Blaine hesitated.

"What?" Kurt wondered if he was about to say something ridiculous, like clothes weren't important. He tightened his towel, prepared to be affronted.

"It might be easiest to bring everything at once." Blaine inconspicuously crossed his fingers.

Kurt gave him a look of confusion. "I don't understand."

"I mean–" Blaine cleared his throat. "If we had some help, like movers or something, we could get all your things in one trip."

Kurt's arms went limp at his sides. "Movers?" he breathed.

Blaine scratched nervously at the back of his neck. "It hardly makes sense to keep an apartment you don't need. Does it?" No sooner was the last word out than his boyfriend launched himself at him and he toppled over with an armful of squealing Kurt.

It was hard to kiss Blaine properly, Kurt discovered, when he was smiling so wide he couldn't pucker up. Oh well, improper kisses were good too. "You want me to live with you?" he stopped to ask, grinning foolishly, wanting to hear it again.

Blaine's warm chuckle could be felt all through the nearly naked body sprawled on top of him. "You already live with me, silly man. You don't think I'm going to let you sleep somewhere else, do you? Without me?"

Kurt's head shook vigorously. "I don't think I could sleep without you if I tried."

"Same here. So, let's go to your old apartment tomorrow, get your clothes and talk to your landlord. We'll break the lease, buy it out, sublet. Whatever it takes."

"Most of my furniture won't fit here," Kurt argued for the sake of arguing, feet twitching like the tail of an ecstatic puppy and joy shining in his face.

Blaine's answering smile was just as immovable. "Bring anything you want, sell what you don't need, and we'll put the rest in storage." He had ready answers, since he'd been thinking about this a lot.

"I suppose it would be more economical to give up my old place and split the rent on one apartment." Kurt pretended to think about it, looking around the bedroom until a quick frown creased his brow. "Actually, half the rent here might be the same as full rent for my place. How on Earth can you afford this?" he asked, somewhat rudely. "Two bedrooms don't come cheap around here. Did you have a roommate when you moved in? Is it rent control? Did this apartment belong to relatives or something?"

"No, on all counts," Blaine replied, and Kurt silently waited for him to continue. "I have money." He said it dismissively, hoping to slip that by unnoticed.

Kurt blinked at him. "What?" he asked. Because. What?

Slipping it by didn't work. Blaine tried playing it down. "It's not a big deal. I have a stipend."

"A stipend," Kurt repeated in shock. Blaine might as well have said he was a secret agent.

"It's like an allowance."

"I know what it is." Kurt still stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"I was going to tell you." Blaine gave up playing it down and tried to appease Kurt instead. "I was only waiting until I knew you felt the same way I did. Then last night–" He'd heard the words he'd waited for forever. "This doesn't change anything." He hoped.

Kurt shook himself out of his stupor. "No," he offered a feeble denial. "Of course not. It's unexpected, that's all. Maybe it shouldn't be; you couldn't afford a place twice the size of mine on your salary alone. I just hadn't given it any thought." Kurt knew it shouldn't make a difference in their relationship. He felt kind of awkward anyway.

Blaine sighed, sensing his discomfort. "I haven't told you much about my family yet. The truth is, my grandfather was a very successful businessman and my father followed in his footsteps. He wasn't too happy when I decided to study the performing arts; we don't exactly see eye-to-eye. My grandfather and I, on the other hand, were very close. He was really supportive when I came out. My father was convinced I just hadn't met the right girl. Probably still is."

Kurt comforted him with another loving kiss, stroking fingertips over his face and listening patiently, the awkwardness already disappearing. Blaine was still Blaine and Kurt adored him. No matter how obnoxiously rich his family might be.

"Grandpa and I were going to travel after I finished high school. He wanted me to see the world before college. Before I had to grow up, he used to say." Blaine trailed off, lost in memories.

"Did you?" Kurt prompted curiously.

Blaine shook his head. "He passed away before I graduated."

"I'm so sorry." Kurt felt the pain of Blaine's loss.

"Thanks. I miss him." Blaine smiled sadly. "He left me enough to travel, like we'd planned, and pay for college, and support myself through the starving artist period. He wanted me to follow my dreams, without actually starving."

"You didn't travel?" Kurt asked again, puzzled.

"I couldn't bring myself to go alone. The money's still there, managed by the firm that handled Grandpa's investments when he was alive, and I take a quarterly stipend." Blaine stroked down Kurt's smooth back and looked into eyes full of compassion. "I would like to travel someday. With someone I love."

Kurt smiled gently. He knew Blaine was hurting. "Your grandfather sounds wonderful."

"He was. He would have loved you."

"Thank you. I think you and my father would like each other too." Kurt trailed a finger across his boyfriend's broad chest, not quite meeting his eyes.

Blaine's mouth opened and closed a few times before he could remember how to make words. "I'd love to meet him."

Meeting the family. Huge step. Hugely scary step. What if Kurt's dad didn't like him? He wrapped his arms tighter around Kurt's waist, silently daring anyone to try taking him away.

"I'm glad. Because I'm sure he'll insist on it, once I tell him we're living together." Kurt grinned mischievously. "Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"

Speak. Speak, damn you.


There wasn't time to inventory his entire wardrobe and put together the perfect ensemble, so he just threw something on. For Kurt that meant a gorgeous, plum, Dolce & Gabbana long-sleeved shirt with deep cuffs that buttoned half-way up his forearms, paired with virgin-wool, flat-front trousers by Givenchy. One of his favorite pair, the pants were indigo blue with subtle lavender pinstripes, and they clung provocatively to every line and curve, making his legs look about a mile long. A black, Versace, embossed leather belt and matching low-profile shoes with round faux buckles complemented the slim-fit pants, further emphasizing his legginess. And completing the look was one of his treasured Alexander McQueen skull scarves, in white and cerulean for contrast. He knotted it low to allow the open double-button collar of his shirt to show, exposing the milky white skin of his throat, too long hidden by neckties.

It felt blissful to be adorned in such fabulous clothing again – even if he was playing mix-and-match with four designers. He could excuse himself this time, because it was a bliss he'd experienced far too little of since he'd gone into hiding. He fluffed his hair and checked his ass one last time before going to the living room, where Blaine waited, unsuspecting.

Curiosity kept him occupied after Kurt shooed him out of the bedroom and shut the door. He wandered through the apartment, looking at everything. The modern décor fit his boyfriend perfectly, being stylish and bright. It was also neat and uncluttered, giving the illusion of space to small rooms, and everywhere were homey little touches that made Blaine smile. Soon, Kurt would put those touches on their apartment. Our apartment. He loved saying that. Or thinking it. Our apartment.

He marveled that this man had been right under his nose for so long. It was terrifying to think he might have changed jobs at any time and never known the real Kurt. His disguise had certainly been effective in Blaine's case. He'd dressed like an uptight house frau, and Blaine had thought that's what he was, completely overlooking the contradictions. The uninhibited performances onstage should have been a clue. A big, flashing, neon sign of a clue. With cartoon sound effects. Uptight people are not scene stealing, hilarity instilling, unabashed and utterly convincing actors. Blaine mentally face-palmed. Cross detective off the list of things I might be when I grow up.

He'd browsed through a bookcase and was lounging on the sofa, flipping through last year's September Vogue when the bedroom door opened. He looked up, smiling spontaneously. And then his boyfriend, not for the first time, or the last, proceeded to turn his brain into mush, leaving his internal organs to duke it out amongst themselves.

He strutted down the hall, his own personal catwalk. Freedom! That was the overarching sensation. And it didn't hurt that he had someone to dress for now, in addition to himself. Someone who would love his clothes, while wanting to rip them off. Kurt knew he'd have to explain the rules he'd been lax on so far. Ripping is a no-no.

When he got to the living room, he slowed his movements, preparing to leave. He bent forward to pick up his things from the coffee table, and walked back and forth to switch off the few lamps they'd lit, turning to look around the room, ensuring he didn't forget anything and thoughtfully giving his gaping boyfriend time to drag his wide-eyed stare all over Kurt's lusciousness. When, at last, he deemed his entrance complete, Kurt spun toward Blaine, all modest face and innocent eyes. "Ready, sweetheart?"

"Hnngh," said Blaine.


Blaine walked onto the stage, where many of the cast and crew were already assembled. His boyfriend had gone to his workroom first, to avoid the appearance of arriving together. So, he went downstage to chat with Maggie while they waited for the director.

It was a Big House tradition to gather like this on the day following an opening night. Michael would then read their reviews from the newspapers everyone would have avoided that day, and they'd all celebrate – or commiserate – together. To Blaine's knowledge, they hadn't received any truly scathing reviews in the past year. Still, it was always a nerve-wracking experience.

Kurt checked his messages, humming to himself while he killed a few minutes. When footsteps approached he looked up, expecting to see Brittany and finding Sue instead. Her gaze flicked over his outfit with subtle approval and his eyes shone brightly. "Good morning, Sue."

"Porcelain," she greeted and glanced around as though searching for someone. "Where is–"

"Blaine's already onstage," he blurted cheerfully, dripping with excess energy.

As soon as the words spilled out of his mouth he knew he might as well have announced their relationship. A quick look confirmed no one else was around. Anyway, he felt confident she already knew and his giddiness was too deeply entrenched to allow for little things like worry. Being in love suited him quite nicely, thank you.

"Blaine?" Sue repeated without comprehension.

"Anderson. Sorry." Kurt grinned.

"Oh yes, the patient. I noticed he recovered in time for opening night. Entirely your doing, no doubt. I hope he was sufficiently grateful."

Kurt bit his lip to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. He had little control over the way he was bouncing in place. "You could say that." He was fighting back laughter and ready to burst if he didn't tell someone soon. "He asked me to move in with him!" Kurt squealed with excitement. "No one else knows about us, though. So, please, mum's the word."

"I'll try to control myself," she replied in her usual sardonic monotone. "I guess I don't have to ask if you agreed." Her gaze touched meaningfully on his clothes again. "It's good to have you back."

Kurt twirled in an adorably unnecessary pirouette. "Thank you," he chirped. "It's good to be back. He makes me so happy," Kurt sighed. "And I owe it all to you." He opened his arms to hug her and she held up a staying hand.

"Cool your jets there, grabby. I've reached my hug quota for the year."

Kurt laughed and hugged himself instead. "Okay, no hugs, for now. How can I repay you then? Would you like a custom Hummel gown for your next formal occasion? Or will you come over for dinner one evening? I happen to be an excellent cook," he bragged shamelessly.

"Would Anderson be there?" she asked darkly.

"Of course." He grinned again. "Did I mention that we live together now?" He did a few bouncy half-twirls, spinning his hips left and right without taking his eyes off of Sue. "I've never lived with anyone before."

"I wouldn't have guessed." Sue remained stoic while Kurt flitted like a hummingbird on Ritalin. "I suppose a gown might be useful for those infernal parties. As long as you bill me for the materials." She pointed her glasses at him and he knew she meant business, which helped him remember that this was his workplace and no, no, he was not a ballerina.

"Of course. I'll start working up some sketches. You'll outshine everyone at the next after-party." Kurt ceased his fluttering and smiled warmly at his boss.

"Nothing frilly," she warned.

"Got it. Simplicity. You want something with some slink." He put a hand on his hip, striking a slinky pose.

"Slink?" She frowned, as if unsure whether that was better than frills.

"It's a line from... Never mind. Not important. I should get out there. Michael's probably about to start."


They stood downstage, Kurt fidgeting between Maggie and Blaine, always antsy before the reading of the reviews. He felt Maggie take his hand, clearly nervous too, though she'd forgotten the stress long enough to gush over his outfit when he joined them. Blaine, on the other hand, looked awfully relaxed. Kurt glared at him and he just chuckled.

"How can you be so calm," Kurt hissed.

Blaine took in his and Maggie's frazzled appearances. "What good does it do to panic? We did our best last night. If the critics didn't like it, they didn't like it. You can't please all of the people all of the time."

That concept was foreign to Kurt, the people pleaser. "You can try," he retorted.

A rattling sound drew all eyes front, where Michael was shaking open a newspaper. After a tense few seconds while he skimmed a page, he found and read the short blurb on their performance. They sighed en masse at the critic's kind words, though he ended on a sour note about the wait at the ticket window. Many critics seemed to feel they weren't doing their job if they didn't knock something.

The other small papers were similarly positive, and the group sported lots of smiling faces. Tension returned, however, when Michael picked up the final, and most important paper, The New York Times. The room was silent while he flipped to the theater reviews and scanned the page, shaking out the paper again when he found it. Maggie squeezed Kurt's hand and he squeezed right back.

"Twelfth Night: Shakespeare?" Michael read aloud. "The words remain the same. That is to say nearly incomprehensible, equating to modern English just enough to keep us following along with gentle nudges from the cast. However, for the first time in my experience with Twelfth Night, I found myself empathizing with the lovely Olivia and her biting wit, as Orsino, played by Blaine Anderson, made a complete ass of himself and, consequently, became unexpectedly likable."

Blaine was gobsmacked and Kurt couldn't have been more excited if it was his name in The Times. He screeched and flung himself at Blaine, who caught him instinctively and swung him in a circle, his shout of laughter cut short by Kurt's enthusiastic kiss.

Kurt pulled away from his mouth only to hug him more tightly, arms in a stranglehold around Blaine's neck as he was lowered back to the floor. It was then they noticed how quiet the stage had become. They glanced around at their friends, who stared back in various stages of surprise and amusement. Kurt blushed furiously and tried to step back, failing to move anywhere when Blaine's hold tightened.

The awkward silence was broken a few seconds later when one of the cast turned to the guy next to him and said, "You owe me five bucks."

A smattering of laughter broke out and Blaine took the opportunity to speak to the room. "Everyone congratulate me," he called out, "for landing the hottest boyfriend in New York!" Then he turned to say into Kurt's ear, "Actually anywhere, but they don't need to know yet how hard I've fallen."

The sudden change on Kurt's face from flushing with embarrassment to blushing prettily with happiness got everyone talking at once and stepping forward to congratulate the couple. Maggie was pulling Kurt in for a quick hug when there was a deafening squeal stage-right.

Brittany ran over to grab Kurt's hands and hop up and down in front of him. "I did it! I did it!" she shrieked. "Kurt has a boyfriend!" She paused the hopping to ask in her comical stage whisper, "Did he really kiss you in front of everyone?"

Blaine leaned in to reply at an equal volume, "He really did." Then he helpfully demonstrated, turning Kurt and capturing his mouth in a long, searing kiss. A minute or so later is was Blaine who tried to pull back, and failed. Kurt's arms were tight around his neck again and one knee was brushing up along Blaine's outer thigh, a leg getting ready to wrap around him; and okay, maybe Blaine wasn't trying all that hard to get away.

Eventually, though, he did peel Kurt off, with a slight smacking sound of suctioned lips. Looking into glazed, dark blue eyes afterward, it occurred to Blaine that maybe he should have toned it down for their audience. Live and learn.

Sighs could be heard from most of the women – and a few men. Kurt didn't seem to notice, fixated on Blaine's mouth until Brittany spun him toward her.

"Wow, that was hot," she said, sounding breathy. Several others nodded dumbly.

A noise of agreement came from Kurt and he mumbled something that sounded a bit like 'nympho.' Blaine couldn't be sure. As for himself, he was ecstatic to have their relationship out in the open and still see smiles all around. Until, as Brittany and Maggie dragged Kurt away, presumably to extract every morsel of information they could get from him, Blaine caught a look from Michael that was less than thrilled. He left the stage to speak to the director alone.

The lack of enthusiasm wasn't completely unexpected and wouldn't deter Blaine. "Michael," he began and ended, unsure what to say.

"Blaine," Michael replied, waiting.

"I'm sorry about that." He decided on a straightforward approach. "We didn't mean for everyone to find out that way. I wanted to tell you myself, before we went public. It won't affect our work. We've already had that discussion." There was no response and his face tightened with resolve. "I'm not going to stop seeing him," Blaine flatly informed him.

"Your personal life is your business." Michael held up a hand to ward off Blaine's defensiveness, his tone ambivalent. "Kurt's a great guy."


"I hope you'll give me a heads up if this starts to go south and I have to put out feelers for a new leading man."

Blaine found it interesting that Michael took it for granted he'd be the one to quit. Unless he was alluding to one of them being fired. Huh. Well, at least I know where I stand. "To be honest, I don't really see this going south, but you'll be the first to know."

"How long have you been together?" Michael asked dryly.

"Um. Almost a month." Okay, put like that, maybe it seemed a tad ludicrous that he was so confident. That didn't make it any less true. Other people wouldn't understand.

The director looked distinctly unimpressed. "Just promise me there won't be any drama around here. Unscripted drama," he qualified.


Jack waved him down before Blaine could go looking for Kurt and he wasn't surprised to hear Sue wanted to see him at his convenience, which, in Sue speak, meant now.

He peeked around the doorjamb, checking that there were no burly relatives in her office, and she waved him to the chair he'd occupied on his one other, highly memorable visit. Seeing that they were alone, he focused on Sue, who looked perfectly capable of ending his existence all by herself. She was once again using the (very effective) tactic of staring him down until he squirmed.

"I know what you're going to say," he blurted, startling himself. She didn't reply. Simply kept him pinned to the chair with her inscrutable gaze.

"Kurt and I should have told you about us," Blaine jumped in again. "He thinks you already knew, but I still should have talked to you. You're the closest thing he has to family in this city." No reaction. "Kurt wanted– we, I mean– we wanted to keep our relationship private for a while, to make sure it wouldn't affect our jobs." Silence.

"I know he's important to you," Blaine labored on, "and to the theater. Neither of us would do anything to jeopardize that. I told him up front I'd quit if things didn't work out, so there'd be no awkwardness for him here. Things are working out, though. Things are spectacular, in fact. He's spectacular."

Blaine became mulish in the face of her continued silence. "If you want to fire me, go ahead, but we're not breaking up. I love him. I won't let anything come between us." Some kind of response would be nice. Yell at me. Threaten me. Say something, lady. "I'd never do anything to hurt him, if that's what you're worried about. No need for taxidermy or concrete shoes. Or cas– castration." He swallowed hard just saying that word. "I think he'd rather have me in one piece."

"I certainly would," Kurt butted in from the doorway.

Blaine's head jerked around and he went limp with relief, which he chose not to dwell on. "Hey. How long have you been there?"

"Since 'things are spectacular.'" Kurt grinned, unrepentant.

"Eavesdropper," Blaine accused with a smile.

"Guilty. And I love you too." He turned to Sue. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Not at all," she answered pleasantly. "I merely wanted to congratulate Anderson on the Times review... Nice work," she said to Blaine, somehow managing to make it sound like 'Dumb luck.' "Did you need something, Porcelain?"

"Yes." He looked at Blaine. "Michael wants us onstage when you're done; he has some notes from last night. Then we need to get into costume. Matinee in an hour."

"Be right there," said Blaine. His eyes were soft and a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Okay." Kurt blew him a kiss and, with a little wave for Sue, went back the way he'd come.

Blaine watched him leave.

Sue watched Blaine watch him leave.

When Kurt was out of sight, Blaine turned back to her. "You didn't really call me in here to congratulate me, did you?"

She stood and came around the desk. "I'm glad we understand each other." She held out a hand. "Welcome to the family, Anderson."

He got to his feet and shook her hand, smiling. "You can call me Blaine," he offered as they walked out of her office together.

"No, I can't," she scoffed. "That name is too stupid to say out loud. Instead, I'll allow you to choose from the following nicknames: Triangles, Larry or Little Miss Marker."

He squinted, thinking. "Shirley Temple reference?" he asked.

"You got it."

Blaine looked thoughtful again. "Could I have Miss Marker, without the Little?"

"Depends on my mood," she said, though he took it as a good sign when her lips quirked.

"I can live with that."

"So, Miss Marker," she said conversationally as they neared the stage. "Have I told you about my cousin, the minister?"


Kurt stared in shock. He could not be seeing what he was seeing.

Standing next to him was Sue, dressed in a stunning, slinky, blue evening gown for the Romeo & Juliet closing-night wrap party. She followed Kurt's line of sight. "Who is that person?"

"That," he said, blowing out a breath, "is someone I've never met, yet who has the distinction of being the only person I've ever almost hit." He forced himself to stop gaping unattractively at Ethan, lurking just offstage, attempting to look inconspicuous. Kurt deduced he must be scoping out the crowd for the most likely suckers.

Sue crooked her fingers at Jack, who appeared promptly by her side, and addressed Kurt again. "Would you like him gone?" she asked. And from her deadly calm tone, Kurt thought it was a toss-up whether she meant to have him thrown out of the theater or into the river.

After a little thought, a determined, and slightly devious look crossed his face. "Not yet. I'll let you know when. Jack, I want you to do something for me, please."

While Jack went to deliver a message to Blaine, Kurt found Maggie and quickly filled her in. Or actually not so much filled in as begged a favor of. By this time, Ethan had a drink in hand and was casually moving through the crowd, looking for all the world like he belonged. So despite some puzzlement and a host of questions that would have to wait until later, Maggie agreed to her friend's hasty request to go along with whatever he said and not mention Blaine to someone she didn't remember. She'd have to take Kurt's word for it that they'd met.

"Maggie!" Ethan cried. He approached as if they were old friends and it was such a pleasant surprise to see her there.

"Yes?" she answered with polite disinterest.

Ethan's mask stayed firmly in place and Kurt had to admire the chutzpah. Maybe he crashed parties regularly and was accustomed to such cold receptions. Whatever else he might be – and Kurt could supply many adjectives – he also seemed to be an adequate actor.

"Ethan," he reintroduced himself with a cute, winsome smile. Kurt really didn't like Ethan. "We met at another party here not long ago." He waved at the air, body language relaying what a colossal bore it was to have to attend so many of these functions.

"Ethan," she repeated without a hint of familiarity, then gestured to Kurt, who planned to cook her a fabulous meal at the first opportunity. "Do you know Kurt, our wonderful Romeo?" She smiled brilliantly at her co-lead. "I'm going to miss being your Juliet."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt." Ethan made the innocuous words sound like an invitation, his warm gaze caressing Kurt's face.

"Hello, Ethan." Kurt shook his cold, limp hand, then crossed his arms, surreptitiously wiping his palm on his sleeve.

"Haven't I seen you in something else?" Ethan asked, with a distinct lack of imagination, in Kurt's opinion.

He didn't react to the generic question that, he supposed, was meant to sound flattering. It badly missed its mark. "I don't know," Kurt replied with a bland smile. "Have you?"

"Uh–" their uninvited guest finally stammered, glancing to Maggie for help.

She took pity on him, unknowingly guaranteeing that her home-cooked meal would be a little less fabulous. "Kurt has been at the Big House for quite a while," she told Ethan. "Odds are you've seen him if you frequent this theater."

"That explains it!" Ethan exclaimed. "I must have seen you in an older production. I haven't been to this theater in ages," he lied. Then caught his slip when two sets of eyes narrowed at him. "Except that one time, of course, a few months ago," he backpedaled. "Can't remember what play it was. I see so many, you know," he claimed, digging his hole deeper and deeper, to Kurt's delight.

Kurt and Maggie let him ramble for a few minutes, asking difficult questions about all the many plays he'd been fortunate enough to attend. And when he paused, Kurt tossed him a new shovel with which to dig. "What do you do, Ethan?" he asked.

"I'm an actor," Ethan proudly declared.

"An actor!" Kurt feigned excitement at something so rare as meeting an actor. In a theater. In New York City. "Did you hear that, Maggie? He's one of us!"

"I heard." She looked away from Ethan, snorting at Kurt's antics.

"Are you in anything now?" Kurt put the slightly confused taller man on the spot again.

He sniffed importantly. "I'm between projects."

"We've all been there," was Kurt's sage reply. "Oh, look." He lit up with a sudden, brilliant idea. "There's Sue. Do you know Sue?" Kurt waited until Ethan shook his head. "She owns the theater." He could almost hear the wheels turning in Ethan's mind, and he definitely saw the triumphant spark in his eyes, quickly hidden.

"I'd love to meet her." Ethan gave him a greasy smile. "Then maybe you and I could go get a drink somewhere."

Kurt's gaze dropped to the glass in Ethan's hand.

"Somewhere quiet," he amended, letting his voice drop to a more intimate level, blatantly insinuating that Kurt's bedroom might be quiet.

Kurt refrained from rolling his eyes, quickly tiring of this game. "I'll introduce you, then. Unless this is a bad time?" he asked with baby-faced innocence, ignoring Maggie's muffled sniggering.

"Now would be fantastic," Ethan smirked.

Sliding a discreet glance toward Blaine, who was watching the exchange closely from across the room, Kurt gave him the barest nod before leading Ethan away.

"Sue, there's someone here who'd like to meet you," Kurt said as they walked up to her. "This is Ethan."

She looked down her nose at the stranger and raised an imperious brow.

"Lovely to meet you, Sue." He poured on the charm, to no purpose whatsoever.

"I'm sure it is," she replied haughtily. "Who are you here with? I thought I knew everyone who was invited tonight." She placed a slight emphasis on 'invited.'

He glanced quickly at Kurt, who tilted his head, waiting curiously for the answer.

And Blaine chose that moment to join them, wrapping possessive arms around Kurt from the side and pressing warm lips to his cheek. Kurt turned his head, giving his unsubtle boyfriend a loving smile and slow kiss, gently tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Ready to go home, love?" Blaine asked softly, yet not so quietly that those nearby couldn't make out every word.

"In a minute, honey," Kurt replied. "Look who's here." He tipped his head toward Ethan.

Blaine looked to the side, not letting go of Kurt for a moment. "Ethan. What a surprise," he sighed, his sarcasm palpable. "Crashing again?"

"Oh, honey, be nice." Kurt poked him tenderly. "He was just about to tell us what he's doing here. Isn't that right, Ethan?"

"I... Uh..."

Sue looked at her assistant, who'd had the good sense to stay close. "Jack, please make sure the doorman sees me tomorrow," she instructed. Jack nodded, and all eyes returned to Ethan, whose startled gaze darted from person to person. "Do you need someone to show you out?" Sue's dry question cut the silence when he just stared at them all stupidly.


"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine," Kurt gasped. His hands clutched at the firm body beneath him, which rose rhythmically to meet Kurt, straddling his lover, riding him. Blaine's teeth were clenched, one hand grasping Kurt's hip, the other wrapped around his shaft, and his knees were bent to give him more power behind every thrust.

"Kurt! So good," he gritted out.

Kurt's lust-glazed eyes took in the heated skin of his lover's beautiful face. Blaine's teeth caught and trapped a swollen lip and Kurt fell forward to rescue it with his own teeth, sucking it into his mouth.

"Mmph," Blaine groaned. His hips snapped upward and his mouth opened under Kurt's. He tightened his fist, twisting it around the leaking cock, swiping his thumb across the silky tip and spreading the drops of moisture before his hand jerked rapidly up and down.

Kurt's head yanked back and he cried out. The pit of heat flared in his stomach and he tingled all over. He braced his hands on the bed on either side of Blaine's head and rode faster. Harder. Fucking down onto his hard length and up into his fist. "Oh– oh– ohhhh, Blaine!" The world went black, but for the stars bursting behind his eyelids. His body quaked and he covered Blaine's fist and chest with his come, collapsing on top of him when his arms and legs refused to hold him up any longer.

Two hands grabbed his hips and he was flipped onto his back. Kurt gasped, his muscles still twitching, every stroke intensified as Blaine pounded into him, hammering him into the mattress. His oversensitive cock tried valiantly, and in vain, to harden again at the fantastic, desperate thrusting. A stroke across his prostate had him arching high, lifting them both before Blaine's weight pushed down on him again. His lover's mouth was open on his shoulder and Kurt could hear him panting with effort while his body instinctively sought the release it needed. He put his lips against Blaine's ear, whispering to him how good it was, how much he loved the hard cock filling him, begging to be fucked until whimpers escaped his lover's lips, every thrust bringing him closer and closer to blessed oblivion. Kurt brushed his tongue over the shell of Blaine's ear and felt strong teeth sink into his shoulder. He sucked in a sharp breath and retaliated by licking again, pushing his tongue deeper. Driving the pointed tip of his hot tongue just inside and swirling it around was enough to make Blaine yell out his climax, coming deep inside him.


"God, Kurt, Baby, you're unbelievable," Blaine panted and gently withdrew, then stiffened at the sound of his own voice. "Shit. I'm not supposed to call you that. I'm sorry." Blaine held him tighter, kissing his neck in apology.

"It's okay." Kurt stroked his back. He loved it so much when Blaine lay on top of him, their bodies pressed tightly together from head to toe.

"What?" Blaine craned his neck back to look at his lover, his brow furrowed. "You mean you're letting me get away with it?" He made a concerned face and placed the backs of his fingers against Kurt's forehead.

"Don't push your luck. And yes."

"Wait. I'm confused. Are you lifting the restriction? Or are you just too tired to reprimand me right now."

Kurt fought the urge to giggle, and yes, he was far too relaxed and sated for reprimands. He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes for Blaine's entertainment. "I suppose I could allow it," he conceded, then gave his boyfriend a warning look. "Only on the condition that you're never allowed to call anyone else Baby. Ever."


"Unless, of course, you're speaking to an actual infant." Kurt was nothing if not reasonable.

"You mean like if I had a beautiful, perfect little daughter with big blue eyes? Then it would be okay?"

Kurt swallowed, rendered speechless for the space of several loud, thumping heartbeats. "Yes," he whispered. "That would be okay." His hands slid up Blaine's strong back to bury themselves in his hair. "Or an adorable baby boy with dark, curly hair and sweet hazel eyes."

"Or both," suggested Blaine, trailing fingers over Kurt's warm cheeks.

"Or both," Kurt agreed, pulling him down for a long, slow kiss.

There was no spooning that night. The lovers fell asleep face to face, wrapped serenely around one another, drifting off to murmured 'I love yous' and the comforting pulse of the other's heart against their fingertips.


A/N: Done! Feels strange, because I've been working it for so long. These two would carry on conversations in my head at the most inconvenient times. Until recently. I won't bore you with details, but I can summarize the last couple of weeks in 2 words: Fanfictus Interruptus. Oh, delays. How I resent you.

This chapter was difficult. I hesitated over what to do after 3x02 squished my brainpan by making fun of Kurt's Romeo (no me gusta). As you can see, I decided to go with my original plan to give him the role, and simply left out any description of the play. He rocked it, of course. My fic. My rules.

I've had SO much fun with this. I'm amazed at the response. All the Firefly fans out there blew me away! Did you know it's possible to carry on an intelligent conversation almost exclusively in Firefly quotes? True story.

If anyone's interested, these links show how I pictured Blaine in this fic. Google the links and they'll come up.

Ch1: Infuriatingly sexy (minus glasses)
imdb media/rm611945472/nm2023050

Ch2: Adorably scruffy (plus a black eye)
imdb media/rm2070383616/nm2023050

No Kurt links, because I didn't need photos. His image is burned into my retinas. Thanks again everyone for reading and reviewing! Mwah! *less than 3*

"Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand. I don't care, I'm still free. You can't take the sky from me." - Joss Whedon, King of the World

"Grr! Arrgh!"