Christmas in New York is always magical. Kurt is alone on Christmas Eve with a flourish of old memories haunting him when Blaine, a successful business man, finds him and begs for 7 days (New Years Eve being the deadline) to prove he's the man Kurt has been wishing for. Klaine. Faberry. Might be M in later chapters.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

A/N: A new story I hope you'll enjoy featuring Faberry, Niff, and of course Klaine. I might join some other ships as well depending on how they fit to the plot. I hope you enjoy it.

Kurt stood watching the 30,000 lights on the Rockefeller Centre Christmas tree. This was his second year in New York, and first time alone on Christmas.

The seasonable Christmas Eve spirit didn't dawn on him this year. There was no upset to the rhythmic beating of his heart, no butterflies swirling in his stomach. He didn't even have a Christmas tree in his dingy, bad neighbourhood apartment. Kurt grimaced. Thoughts of returning to its depressing atmosphere sent feelings of nausea to his already burning eyes.

In contrast to his dire thoughts, the centre was filled with boisterous and excited people. The middle aged lady next to him was proceeding to procure some sort of order in her two youngins who seemed to be dancing about as if they were on fire. In front of them an old couple clasped hands in joint celebration, the old man bending down to Eskimo kiss the woman – sending her into a fit of giggles, face crimson.

With a sigh, Kurt moved through the crowd eyes downcast. The joyful faces taunted him, lulling him into a false sense of comfort that would be soon disbanded by his lonesome dwelling. Soon, his eyes glazed in memory.

The Christmas tree was lit with a myriad of dazzling colours. Designed of course by Kurt himself, the family admired it's beauty with hands linked. After a moment of silence Kurt's mother, Elizabeth, procured a row of Christmas cookies laced with her own famous icing. Kurt, at mere age of 5, gobbled one down with haste before noting he couldn't have anymore or they'd upset his figure. The happy family chimed in mirth, pulling together on the couch to watch the snow fall slowly on the festively decorated lawn.

Kurt clucked his tongue as he curled up into his mother. His dad began to stoke the fire which stroked their bodies in a comforting and warm gesture. It was Christmas time at the Hummel's house, the greatest time of year.

A cold falling snowflake landing on uncovered neck awoke Kurt from his memories. He shivered violently, moving through the crowd now with a dignified haste.

That's what Kurt had now. His quiet dignity. Though he worked countless shifts at establishments such as bars and cafes, not to mention cameos at the GERSHWIN THEATRE, Kurt kept his quiet decorum he had learnt from being a bullied homosexual in high school.

Long gone was the diva attitude, the sassy outbursts, the astute confidence. It hid within him with years of withheld emotion. He was better liked when he was no longer himself. The boys at the bars and clubs sensed an innocence , a virtue, from his built persona. To be outspoken, he only attracted the worst of people.

Like Karofsky.

David Karofsky, the boy that took his first kiss. That same boy that grew to be the man that stole his inner passion as well.

Kurt shook himself from his thoughts. He was lucky, he had been told. At least it was only a kiss... They didn't understand. His first kiss, the epitome of romance, taken by a thug that later caused such deep bruises that his skin had never truly been able to heal.

iPod in, world off. Kurt distanced himself from the memories, playing the latest tunes that distracted him from reality. The latest was Paradise Circus by Massive Attack.

Love is like a sin, my love. For the ones that feel it the most. Look at her with her eyes like a flame; she will love you like a fly will never love you again.

Kurt Hummel entered the XES Lounge like a frequent visitor. After all, that's what he was.

The security guard, stage named Buzz, welcomed his presence by granting him free entry. After a small smile and stream of thanks, Kurt entered the lounge alone. Looking at the bartender as he took his seat, signalling with a simple wave 'the usual'.

The lounge was filled to the brim. Loud voices echoed throughout the room in a persistent tremor. Glasses protested suddenly against constant slamming, the symbol of drunken occupants. Kurt smiled with the small of his mouth. It was different here, being surrounded by his people – a small sense of family. Harvey the bartender came with his drink – a dirty martini.

"Here on Christmas Eve, Kurt.' He sighed exasperatedly. "Are you sure you aren't a handsome version of Santa coming to bring me yourself as an item on my wish list?" Winking flirtatiously, Harvey resumed pouring a beer for Kurt's nearest company.

"I live to please, Harvey." Kurt murmured timidly as he reached deep into his past for a source of witty banter.

The lounge continued its comforting hum as common occupants waved to Harvey and Kurt. Reaching full capacity, the bartenders around Harvey began to work furiously to compete with the insurgence of customers. With the familiarity came a sense of comfort to Kurt, who stirred his drink as his restless memories began to calm.

Without warning, the facade was broken by a new visitor on the stool beside him. Kurt trained his eyes only on his glass, praying to no god that the man would ignore his presence. He didn't want to be someone's toy tonight.

Not with these unrelenting memories threatening to take him over.

The man's voice was mirthful and laced in honey. In a polite conveyance, the man ordered a round of drinks for an animated table near the fire place. He engaged in Harvey's witty banter without any seeming discomfort, though Kurt was sure he would have recognised such a voice.

It set his skin on fire. Goosebumps spreading on his skin. His spine trembling.

Any attempt to sink back into his own thoughts, ignoring the man, seemed improbable so Kurt sneaked a careful glance at his new neighbour. His pea coat was a modest black though obviously expensive. The scarf, also obviously expensive, was a mixture of reds and greys that was an even split to the darkness of the man's hair. Gelled to an inch of its life, the hidden curls of the man seemed to reach out to Kurt – a secret infatuation of his. His hair was almost ebony in colour and attracted attention to his tanned skin, but no matter how lovely, it was his eyes that entranced Kurt to the centre of his being. Honey onyx in colour, they were laced with an almost yellow glow that felt familiar despite never meeting this man.

Kurt thinks he can taste something similar to saccharine on his tongue just from looking at the nameless man. He watched something glimmer and his pupils, just maybe, widen a little.

It was only after this final observation that Kurt realised the man was returning his stare.

Blushing, Kurt returned his eyes to his glass, attempting to break himself from this new and improved daydream. The man, however, had other plans. His constant gaze unnerved Kurt, not even his nightly companions stared at him with such intensity.

Harvey returned to the pair with the group's drinks, breaking the man's stare. With an easy smile that Kurt could hear through the man's words of thanks, a more than charitable tip was passed to Harvey before his presence was lost.

Another come and gone. He could never live to their expectations.

Especially when they surpassed his.

Blaine sauntered through the lounge with learned authority. Despite the tray of drinks in his hands hindering his ability to swagger, Blaine was always an image of influence.

Rejoining his group and passing the drinks to his friends, a certain image of a certain man flickered through his mind. His body set in a rigid posture, his eyes downcast in a submissive gesture... Blaine's mind was now occupied in wonder.

The sea blue eyes had burned an image on his eyelids.

Wes called his attention with a sniggering comment. Blaine didn't hear it, but knew it's general direction.

"No Wesley, I will not share." He returned evenly.

"But Blainey..." Wes whinged, adopting a hideous re-enactment of a blubbering child.
Blaine laughed in obvious good humour as the conversation returned to some sort of order.

"As I was saying," Rachel added, obviously petulant at being interrupted. "I seriously believe that progressing the music department by letting in musical genres will expand the company even more. Warbler enterprises gets its influence from having such a vast amount of smaller companies – it's music, airlines, clothes, banking lines and more are what make us unique. If we expand within those groupings, we're solidifying our impact."

The group nodded in agreement before turning to Blaine, the owner of the company, in a hope filled gesture.

"Are you proposing we expand the company to including musical theatre like we began flying overseas instead of being a nation-wide airline?" Blaine replied, deep in thought.

Rachel seemed enthused with the obvious positive perspective that Blaine was giving her. "Yes sir." She replied, grinning widely.

"And this has nothing to do with your obvious obsession with musical theatre, and your past within it?"

Blaine turned a steady gaze on her, surveying her with a business standpoint. Rachel seemed disgruntled, not used to being caught out on her scheming. She seemed to attempt to configure a coherent reply and Blaine soon returned to his carefree demeanour to calm her nerves.

"Let me think on it," He replied with added mirth. "It's Christmas Eve and I plan on getting away from work for a while. You've got my cell if you need me."

Without another glance, Blaine stood and arranged his scarf on his return to the bar.

He had a certain blue eyes to charm.

Kurt was drowning in the bleak atmosphere. Flashes of honey onyx began to sear through his nervous system, causing him to flinch as if it burned him. Making only polite small talk with Harvey, Kurt readied himself to leave. Digging in his satchel, (It's not a purse, and even if it was – Fashion has no gender) Kurt made to pay for his martini as he moved to leave.

A hand shot across him and stopped him mid movement.

"Now now blue eyes, you can't possibly leave so early on Christmas Eve." The man's honey eyes seemed to gloss over Kurt's entire body, leaving him trembling. In a split second, Kurt found his inner sass.

"Hobbit, I understand you have height difficulties and I've always been taught to be pleasant to the disabled – but my eyes cannot be simply identified as a simple 'blue''.

The man looked disgruntled. "You're right. They could be almost green..." He looked lost in thought. "Besides, I'll have a lot more time to ponder my faux pass as you sit with me for another drink." Taking a seat next to his half empty one, the man gestured for Kurt to join him.

Kurt flushed an unnatural shade of red and glanced contemplatively at his shoes. They were red for the festive season yet of course in perfect coordination with the season. Due to the lack in reply, the man pursued a tactical attack. "Christmas on your own this year?"

Kurt nodded, momentarily glancing up at his latest suitor. The man looked taken back for a minute. "Someone with eyes like the ocean, both green and blue, shouldn't be alone at any time of year." The man replied earnestly, though Kurt flinched.

Packing his bag – satchel – up once again, Kurt moved to place payment and a tip for his drink on the bar and started towards the exit. "I'm sorry; I'm no one's latest toy." Not again, he whispered mentally.

The man was up in a blink of an eye, eyes wide with surprise. What was it about this boy that made him want to honestly try? Usually the smallest effort gained him a night of anything he'd ask for.

Grabbing his arm with haste, though gentle, the man spoke with a less dignified voice – more similar to a kicked puppy after being too excitable. "Toy? No." He shook his head in sincerity. "You're right. I'm being rude. Let's start over. I'm Blaine, Blaine Anderson. And I'd like you to invite you to my table of friends over there for a night of karaoke and frivolity. Please? No one should be alone on Christmas." Kurt was right about Blaine looking like a puppy. His honey onyx eyes widened, setting his dark eye lashes in a contrast that made his heart hurt. Losing all ability to breathe, Kurt nodded, instantly berating himself for being so weak.

The look of glee on Blaine's face was unmistakable. Blaine, or the puppy as Kurt mentally named him, laced his fingers through Kurt's and dragged him to the table.

:. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :.

Bored, the group looked up at Blaine's new soon- to-be conquest, only to be startled. The boy didn't look to be all that enamoured with the billionaire. He actually seemed rather... irate. A challenge for THE Blaine Anderson?

"Kurt, I'd like you to meet my friends. From the left, Wesley, David, Quinn, Rachel and Nick." Each member looked like odd company for the next. First there was Wesley or Wes as he soon reprimanded. He was of an Asian background, clearly confident with a brazen attitude that seemed as cunning as a snake yet as playful as sugar high child. David looked as if he was glued to his phone, clearly talking to some form of lady friend and was more submissive as well as astute with a well spoken tongue and clean cut tailored attire. Then there was Quinn, who had a hair so pink it was almost a fashion item. Though slouching in the chair as nothing fazed her, she had this unspoken dignity that signified effort to disband a stiff posture. Nick looked subdued, reminding Kurt of Blaine after he refused him. Rachel looked like one of the demanding folk down at the theatre – which he was soon proven right as soon as she spoke.

"Kurt... Hummel right? You're on Broadway sometimes, usually on the DIRECTORS choice. That's pretty amazing. I mean, sure you're not as famous as me. You have to be born a star rather than lucky, but still. I bet you're a good performer. If we performed together I'd make you more than mediocre. What do you say? Karaoke partner?" All of this was said in mere seconds, and Kurt's eyes fluttered in obvious agitation. Blaine laughed, knowing her antics, and used their still interwoven fingers to drag Kurt to the microphones. "Not a chance Miss Berry. This boy is mine."

"Anything? You sure? There's a few Christmas songs out there..." Blaine trailed off as he flicked through the given Christmas songs that they could sing. Kurt, though back to his submissive self in appearance, inwardly smirked. The man had no idea what he was in for.

"Anything. If I can't sing it, we'll soon find out." As if.

Blaine smirked as he signalled for the band member and whispered his song choice. The song erupted through the busy club.

Oh the weather outside is frightful,
but the fire is so delightful,
and since we've no place to go,
let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!

Blaine gestured to Kurt, and not long after his jaw was searching eagerly for the ground. Kurt's voice was as soft and perfect as an angel. My god he had to have him.

The song continued, both dancing in time in seamless perfection despite no practice. By the end of it, the club had erupted into a dizzying outburst of applause that had even Rachel on her feet. Kurt bowed to the lounge first as they called out his name – already knowing his majestic voice, then once to Blaine – smirking as he did.

Blaine led them back to the table and began to shower him in complements. "Really Kurt. You'd be perfect for Rachel's new branch within the music industry of Warbler Enterprises. I can imagine your desk in a sky rise now." Leaning over to whisper the last in his ear, Blaine began to caress Kurt's leg. Uncomfortable, Kurt shuffled closer to a mentally absent Nick. As Blaine began to move too close for comfort, Kurt pushed his hands away. "What Kurt, baby, don't you want that pretty office in the city?" Wes called from the other side of the table, obviously enjoying the performance. Realising his position, Kurt stood abruptly, missing Blaine's glare to the Asian boy. "I -," He stopped, regaining his dignity that lay shattered on the floor. "I am not anyone's toy, MR Anderson. Not even for a pretty office. If I was cheap, I'd be the head of the silly Warbler Enterprises by now." Kurt missed the comical glance between David and Quinn at that comment. "Thanks for the drink, I'll be going now." Kurt slammed his drink back on the table with a resounding clash.

They were all the same. Kurt told himself, pushing himself towards the door as fast as he could - leaving a shocked Blaine gaping up at him.

"KURT WAIT!" Blaine was running after him, coat swishing in the cold New York air. "Kurt please, I can't just never see you again. I'm not... I'm not like that – I, I. Wes likes to make his jokes because I don't get out a lot... I just..." He was making wild gestures with his hands as if to grab the words that where escaping him. Noticing, he moved his fingers through his hair that was running loose from his plight. "There's 7 days until New Years Eve. Let me prove it to you. 7 days, that's all I ask."

After seeing that same earnest look that drew Kurt to the man, Kurt glanced up at the sky. The lounge's clock ticked over to 12:01 sending the lounge into a series of cheering and kisses. It was officially Christmas. Maybe this was the Christmas spirit giving him a wish. 7 days...

Kurt walked up to the slightly fevered man who blanched as if waiting for some form of assault. After placing a neat and timid kiss on his cheek, Kurt nodded.

"You're on, Anderson. But remember, I am NOT your whore. I don't care who you work for!" Still unsure, yet hope-filled, Kurt continued his way to the waiting taxi – not giving a second glance to the happy puppy Blaine.

Until he was safely hidden by the taxi's tinted windows of course.

A/N: Let me know if you'd like me to continue this story!