Hours later, when the music cut off and the sun outside was readying to make an appearance, Kurt knew it was time to come out of his hiding place and head back to the main room. There was still a lot to be done before he could head home to catch a few hours of sleep before coming back and repeating the night over again.
The club owner went through his mental checklist as he walked swiftly down the back steps into a hall that lead to the main room, so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't hear a pair of footsteps join his own. He still had to supervise the clean up, do a perimeter check/cleanup and make sure Fabray and her followers didn't leave any paraphernalia behind, collect the bar and entryway cash drawers, count them and prepare the deposits. Plus he had to balance the books, input the inventory list Rory was sure to give him tonight, hand out he paychecks-damn it. The paychecks sitting on his desk in his office.
"Shit," he hissed as he turned on his heel to march back the way he came. Only, as he took his first step he ran straight into a vest-clad chest.
"Oh my god!" A familiar voice cried. It was slightly different from the husky whisper from hours before, but it was the same man. Blaine caught Kurt before Kurt could fall on his ass and even though the slightly-taller man had steadied quickly, Blaine kept his grip on Kurt's elbow.
"What the hell?" Kurt cried. "How did you get back here?"
"I knew Rory from college and I convinced him to let me back here so I could talk to you," the dark-haired man answered sheepishly. He ran his free hand through his hair nervously and Kurt absolutely did not find that endearing.
Mentally kicking himself for the momentary weakness, Kurt threw off his arm and stalked down the hallway toward the stairs. "He is sogetting fired," he muttered.
"No, wait! Don't do that. Please." Blaine pulled at Kurt's arm again, forcing both men to stop. "I just...I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. It's just, Jeremiah, he-we aren't together anymore and he's having a hard time with that. And-"
"Stop," Kurt said sharply, holding up a hand to stall the history he really didn't want to hear about Blaine and the man who looked like he probably at one point in his life worked at the GAP. "Listen, you are really hot," Kurt said as his eyes raked over Blaine once more, deciding he looked even better in the full light of the hallway. "And I would love nothing more than to have as much mind-blowing sex with you as possible." Blaine made a strangled sort of sound, though Kurt wasn't sure if it was out of protest or if he really liked the idea. "But you seem the type to want something a bit more long-term and that's just not my style. So," he grabbed Blaine's arm and led him to a nearby door that led to the ally. He threw the door open and pushed Blaine toward it. "The main road is down there to the right." Blaine hesitated. "It's safe, I promise." Kurt made sure the allies on both sides of his club were private enough for random hookups, but safe enough that no one would be afraid to use them. If he was going to promote a lifestyle of sexual freedom, he was going to make damn sure it was safe.
"It's not that," Blaine said and made to say more before thinking better of it and paused. He reached into his vest to pull out a pen and a pad of paper. "Just in case you change your mind, here's my number." Kurt hesitated as the hazel-eyed man held out the plain white page, but took it anyway. Blaine nodded as Kurt folded it up and slipped it into his jacket. "See you around, I hope."
A short time later, as Kurt walked back from his office, paychecks in hand and a small piece of paper burning a hole in his pocket, he sighed mentally. He'd have to figure out a way to convince Puck to do a background check on this Blaine guy. The only people he knew with pen and paper so readily available were journalists and lawyers, neither of which he wanted to deal with.
Kurt quickly closed up the club, running through his nightly tasks with a swiftness and precision he had adopted since opening the club. When he finally arrived to his tastefully decorated apartment, slipped into his pajamas and snuggled under the covers of his far-too-large bed, his brain refused to shut off and it seemed the Blaine valve was open to full. Every time he shut his eyes, the dark-haired man's face would pop up, making it impossible for Kurt to sleep. Kurt threw a hand up in frustration. It was just like the last time, with Dave. He was going to get hurt again, and he knew no matter how much he tried, Kurt wasn't going to be able to stop it.
Once again, please let me know what you think! For now this is all there is of this story, though I have had a continuance floating around in my head. I'm not sure when I might get around to writing it, but you never know.