Warnings - Rated M for swearing and talking/thinking/singing about sex, but no actual descriptive sex. If you recognize it from somewhere else, it's not mine. Glee isn't mine. The song used isn't mine, but it was sung by Darren Criss on glee, so you should recognize it. This is a fill for the Glee Kink Meme meaning even the plot isn't mine. I own nothing - except any mistakes are mine all mine.

Keeping My Love Safe

Kurt Hummel believed in love. He had dreamed about this day for years. He lay in bed on his sixteenth birthday, eyes closed, excitement making him squirm, unable to look just yet. Everyone he knew wished their soulmate would be rich and famous. Kurt just hoped he was nice and looked like Chris Hemsworth. He was debating which wrist to check first. He suspected the name of his mate would be two inches below his right hand, indicating he was a sub. Several members of the glee club were taking bets - Dom or sub and girl or boy - just as they had for everyone who had turned sixteen. Brittany was the only one betting Kurt would have a girl's name.

When Kurt couldn't stand the suspense any longer, he checked the inside of his left wrist. Blank. He wasn't surprised. He took a deep calming breath and looked at his right one. In neat, elegant script were the words Blaine E. Anderson. His first thought was, thank Gaga it was a boy's name. His second thought was who's Blaine Anderson? He didn't know anyone at school by that name.

He tried not to be too fussed about it because his dad hadn't found Carole until he was much older. He got up, dressed quickly, and went downstairs to show his dad. "Let's see, kiddo," said Burt when he entered the kitchen. Kurt presented his right wrist for inspection. Burt looked at the name. "Do you know who this is?" he asked.

"Not a clue," admitted Kurt. "I don't know anyone by this name at school, but I'll check."

Burt turned to Finn and Carole. "Either of you know a Blaine Anderson?" Finn shook is head.

Carole paused for a moment to think about it. "No," she finally said. "It doesn't ring a bell." She gave Kurt a hug. "You'll find him, sweetie. And happy birthday!"

Burt watched his son practically dance out the door for school. He was secretly relieved that Kurt didn't know his mate. His boy was growing up so fast, he wasn't ready to let go yet. He had prayed, knowing that Kurt didn't believe in god and would be horrified, that Kurt's mate was under twenty. He hated the stupid loophole law that had been pushed through congress last summer that now made teens legal adults if their mates were twenty or older - they didn't even have to get married. The only part of that stupid law he had been able to support was finishing high school was required regardless of mated status. He had loved Kurt's mom, truly loved her, even though she wasn't his soulmate. He desperately didn't want Kurt to rush into anything simply because his mate was available.

School was an endless trial for Kurt. His friends, acquaintances, and even strangers asked him about the name on his wrist. During glee club, bets were paid off to the winners. Puck and Finn had both been sure he'd be a Dom. And while he was thrilled his mate wasn't a girl, he felt a little bad that Brittany had lost her bet. He had asked anyone and everyone if they knew his mystery man.

"I didn't think it would happen instantly," Kurt told Mercedes after practice. And he hadn't. But a small part of him had wanted it to be simple. Mike and Tina had been together since her name appeared on his birthday. They had gotten even sappier after his name appeared on her wrist. He knew he was capable of loving someone other than Blaine. Both his Dad and Carole had loved their spouses before finding each other. Kurt was a teenage boy with romantic ideals and raging hormones. Finding his mate would make it easier.

"Have you tried online?" asked Mercedes. "I know you have this corny idea that he'll come running towards you in a field of lilacs, but how many guys hang out in a field on the off chance their soulmate will show up. Facebook is the way to go. That's how I found Sam two months ago. Who knows how long it would have taken if we hadn't looked."

Between Sam living in Tennessee and both of them being under twenty, they were taking it slow. Sam had come out for a visit last month and Kurt had yet to hear the end of it. She started telling him, again, that Sam might be transferring to McKinley next year. He had heard this several dozen times, so he knew when to nod and say "Uh huh" to give the appearance of paying attention.

Kurt kept telling himself he didn't care. He kept telling himself it wasn't a big deal. He kept telling himself he wasn't in a hurry. He kept telling himself his soulmate would find him if and when it was meant to be.

So what if he went home, right up to his room, and turned on his computer to see if he could find out anything about Blaine E. Anderson? It didn't mean he was trying to rush his destiny. He was simply curious.

Kurt found a couple of Blaine Andersons on Facebook, but no Blaine E. Anderson. Grumbling to himself, he opened google. It pulled up a bunch of Blaines and Andersons that were not his and a Brett Anders. Huh? Kurt frowned at the picture of the smiling celebrity. When the hell had that happened? He'd had a massive crush on Brett when he had been the lead singer of a boy band called the Warblers a few years ago. The guy was cute back then but nothing compared to how he had filled out. Someone had spent some quality time at the gym.

His search for Blaine completely forgotten, Kurt started pulling up information about Brett and what he'd been up to in the last few years. Oh my Prada, Brett was yummy. He had quit wearing his hair in a long tangled mess. It was still curly, but had been styled into controlled chaos, suiting Brett much better. He found a picture of the singer without a shirt on. Brett had a nicely defined six pack with a dark treasure trail rising above the low slung pants.

He was now in a rock band call The Council with a couple of former Warblers. Kurt pulled up youtube and searched for their most recent singles. The first one he found was a little more hard rock than he usually listened to, but wow did Brett sound hot. He found a couple of clips of the singer in some crime drama Kurt had never watched. Brett looked sexy in those leather pants and skin tight shirt getting interrogated about a death at a local night club. He ignored several articles about Brett's pink bracelet, because bright pink? Really? It just drew attention to the fact that the singer didn't want to share the name of his soul mate. Kurt purchased every recording of The Council could find.

Then Kurt really hit the jackpot on information about Brett Anders - he had recently landed the staring role in a TV show called Dalton Academy. It was a mid-season replacement that had first aired about two months ago. Kurt downloaded as much of the season as he could. Despite getting dragged down for dinner by Carole, Kurt watched all of the episodes that were available and was beyond hooked from Brett's first scene in the pilot. He wished McKinley was an all boys prep school with a bunch of hot singing guys. Glee club would be so much more fun.

Annoyed when he realized he couldn't find out what happens next until Monday, he decided to have the girls sleep over on Friday so they could all watch it together. Fanboying over the Dalton Academy students would be more fun with Mercedes and Tina.


Blaine Anderson, better known to most of the world as Brett Anders, believed in love, but he was beginning to wonder why. He slid his bright pink wrist cuff down to gaze at the name written there. Kurt Hummel. Very nice handwriting. He traced the swirls with the tip of his finger. It was times like these he didn't like being a celebrity. He wouldn't sacrifice his success, but he wondered how he was supposed to find his Kurt if he didn't.

He was twenty-three for god's sake. He should have found his sub by now. He sighed. He knew it would be easier to find Kurt if he let it be known what his sub's name was. He just couldn't do it. He wanted to find his soulmate before his adoring, and occasionally crazy, fans did.

He had received dozens of pictures of people's wrists claiming to be his mate. The ones from girls he didn't even bother with. He would glance briefly at the name on the boys wrists, tossing them in the trash when they all said Brett Anders.

He was grateful Wes' Dom, Melissa, had given him the bracelet during one of their first Council performances. A fan had scratched at his wrist, trying to get his sleeve up and prove her name was on his skin. Blaine never did figure out why Melly had what looked like a hot pink leather cat collar with tiny metal heats on it in her purse. He was grateful for the gift. He started wearing it everywhere and it was much more comfortable than long sleeves. When he had been cast on Dalton Academy, the producer of the show, Jackie Mason, had positively exploded when Blaine had refused to take it off for interviews and publicity stuff. He agreed to wear the plain flesh colored band during filming, but for anything else, he refused to back down - he liked his bracelet and he was wearing it.

A few weeks later, during an interview, he'd been asked about it. Melly had told him it was the color of love, but really, she found the irony amusing - the "straight" boy wearing the bright pink bracelet. He had told the man doing the interview that a friend had given it to him to keep his true love safe until they were ready to meet.

That one half joking statement caused a media frenzy. While most celebrities would cover the name with make up or wear long sleeves, very few had been known to sport bracelets or cuffs. Suddenly, everyone had them on. Melly had made a small fortune making "The Bracelet" Brett Anders wore. She had them in a rainbow of colors with pink being the most popular. Blaine laughed his ass off at the fashion trend he'd accidentally started.

He slid the bracelet back into place when the phone rang. It was his agent. She wanted to know his opinion about going on tour. He frowned. "The Council did a tour last fall. And I don't know how I'll be able to work around filming for Dalton. Jackie will go ballistic if I even think of asking about time off for something like that."

"No, dear," said Angela, "Jackie wants the cast of Dalton to go on tour."

Their production schedule was insane, but they would obviously figure it out. Blaine thought about it for a few moments. It wasn't like he'd have someone waiting at home for him or anything and he loved live performances. The energy at a sold out venue was phenomenal. He twisted the bracelet around his wrist. "Sounds great. Let me know the details."

"As soon as I get them," said Angela. "Night darlin'."

"Goodnight, Angela." He fiddled with bracelet. At least touring would give him something to do while he waited for his Kurt.


Kurt was finding it increasingly difficult to hide how obsessed he had become with Brett Anders and Dalton Academy. He had seen every episode at least three times, including the one that aired last night. So he hadn't gotten much sleep, but he was a teenage boy, he could handle it. He had all of The Council's songs memorized. He'd even dug out his old Warbler CDs and put them on his ipod.

Two days ago, they had announced that the cast of Dalton would be touring. The LC Pavilion in Columbus was listed as a possible venue. Kurt was beside himself with joy. He didn't care how much the tickets cost or if he had to go alone, he would be there to see Brett Anders sing live. He was asking Tina and Mercedes to make it a girls night out. The liked Dalton, even if they seemed to enjoy his reactions to the the show more than the actual show itself. He's friends could laugh at his enthusiasm for fictional characters all they wanted, they all had to go.

He was dancing around his bedroom, speakers on loud, and singing his heart out when there was a knock. Squeaking in surprise, he opened the door to find Rachel standing there with an amused expression on her face.

"I didn't know you were a Warblers fan." There was a teasing tone to her voice.

"What if I am?" asked Kurt. Squaring his shoulders, he waited for a lecture on how boy-bands weren't "real" music.

She shrugged. "The lead singer of the Warblers is on a TV show now and I like it, but I don't know anyone else who watches it. So if you like their music, I was thinking it would be fun to see the pilot, especially because I came over to see Finn who's playing some shooting zombies video game and ignoring me."

"You watch Dalton?"

"Yes," said Rachel. "And while I am certain Finn is my destined soulmate, Brett Anders is very talented and rather nice looking."

"Did you watch that last episode?" asked Kurt, his eyes lighting up. Rachel nodded. "I almost died when sang to Cathy at the coffee shop. She looked so embarrassed to have a bunch of prep school boys singing her a song about getting her alone. And Brett's voice was amazing. Gah!" gushed Kurt.

"I know," moaned Rachel. "His lovesick expressions were heartbreaking when he got turned down."

Kurt and Rachel continued to pick apart every thing that had happened in the entire season. They were curled up on Kurt's bed, the most recent episode playing on the laptop. The discussion about who Darren, Brett's character, should date was quickly becoming an argument. Kurt was insistent that Cathy, the barista, was clearly the girl for Brett despite his having Janet's name on his wrist. Rachel was adamant that he would learn to love his soulmate even if she was a manipulative bitch.

Kurt knew Rachel was dreading her rapidly approaching birthday. She was in love with Finn and terrified of what she would find on her wrist the day she turned sixteen. Finn was two weeks younger, so Rachel would know first. Kurt finally agreed that true love, and therefor Janet, would triumph in the end. He neglected to tell Rachel that he was addicted to Dalton spoilers and the rumor was that Janet Miller at Crawford, Dalton's sister school, was not Darren's Janet Miller. According to the more reputable gossip sites, she had not only faked the name on her wrist, she had faked it on her left wrist even though they were both actually subs.

If that were true, Kurt didn't see how they could make it work. There was a pull to submit even before his last birthday. A Dom would give an order and he felt compelled to follow it. Two subs in a relationship sounded like a nightmare.

Kurt glanced briefly at Blaine's name on his wrist. It was simpler to worry about TV characters than someone he might not meet for a long time.


The filming schedule was getting to Blaine. He was up till crazy o'clock every night for over two weeks. There was a long story arch about Nick's character sneaking into Dalton's sister school to prove to Darren that Janet wasn't his soul mate and it had to be filmed at night. Despite the clever script and how much fun he was having, Blaine was ready to fall face first onto the floor. Sure it would hurt, but then maybe he could take a nap.

Filming for the first season was almost finished. They would have a break for a couple of weeks and then hit the road for the tour. There was a flurry of interviews for the cast and events to attend. Blaine was excited to be a guest on his favorite talk show, Late Night with Leslie. Her first question was about how it felt to play a sub when he was so clearly a Dom.

"Fine, it's acting," he said. "And I think it will help me be more understanding when I meet my sub."

"You haven't even had an inkling about her?" asked the host.

Blaine wanted to grind his teeth in frustration. He refrained, but barely. Why did everyone assume he was straight? This would make it that much harder for him to find Kurt.

"I have to be patient. We'll meet when we're supposed to," said Blaine.

"You could let us know the name right now," Leslie said. "I bet one of my fans will know who it is. Hey, she might even be a fan of yours or of this show. She could be watching right now."

Blaine didn't even hesitate for a minuet. "Thank you, but I'm not quite ready to go there yet. If I change me mind, I'll see if I can come back on first."

Blaine didn't want to end up on a show like "My soul mate is John Smith." It had started with Jennifer Johnson who, in addition to having the most common girl's name and second most common last name in America, had the misfortune of having a soulmate named John Smith. It was impossible for her to find him. There are dozens of John Smiths with her name on their wrists. And she wasn't lucky enough to get a middle name or initial - which happened occasionally.

It had become a reality TV overnight success. A dozen John Smiths with the name Jennifer Johnson in similar handwriting went on the show to see if any were her soul mate. She would spend time with each gentleman and afters weeks of tension and drama, she declared contestant number eleven her mate.

Blaine secretly wondered how much had been staged because what were the odds that her soulmate would be on the TV show? Being honest with himself, if they were doing one starring Kurt Hummel with the name Blaine Anderson on his wrist, he'd try to get on the show.

When the interview was over, he'd signed autographs and said goodbyes. Leslie pulled him aside.

"If you do want help finding your soul mate, we want it to be a success. We will make sure that she has your name in your handwriting actually on her wrist before you meet. We can also arrange for the two of you to go somewhere private ahead of time. We want a happy ending, not an unpleasant surprise."

Blaine considered this for a moment. He'd have to let everyone his real name and his sub's.

The host could see his indecisiveness. "We have a contract for this sort of thing. Not many people go this route, so the publicity is overwhelming."

"What if the name isn't what you expect?" Blaine didn't want to say more. There were several conclusions she could draw from that statement. Gay was the most likely, she realized. No one would really care, although his hoards of screaming fangirls would. He could have someone's name who was much younger or inappropriate, like a cousin. It might be illegible. That was a huge problem for people, when they ended up with what looks like chicken scratches on their wrist. They have to hope and pray their writing was neater, so their mate can find them.

She was practically salivating. A celebrity with an unconventional name would be gold. Pure gold. "I will agree to any demands you have regarding this."

"I need to think about this. I'm about to go on tour, but I'll keep in in mind. I wouldn't be able to consider this for at least a few months," he said. "I am not suggesting anything at this point about the name. I do not want to hear a whisper about this on the news or on a gossip site." He didn't want to threaten, but he did need to be clear.

"I'll send over the contract, so you'll have it when you're ready," she said. She knew that was as good as she was going to get for today. "If you do find your mate on your own, I would adore having both of you on."

He was either gay or there was something truly noteworthy about the name. Regardless, the ratings would be through the roof.

Blaine appreciated her discretion. He also noticed that this time, Leslie didn't specify a gender.


Kurt was ecstatic. It was official. The cast of Dalton would be in Columbus. He had to go. He just had to. He was telling Tina and Mercedes how much fun they would all have when Rachel slid up.

"I don't care if I have to use my clothing budget for a year," Kurt told his friends. "I am going to that concert."

Rachel looked at her friends, "I'm going with you." Rachel wasn't Kurt's first choice for going to a concert with, but she loved the show and they would all have fun.

"OK," he said, trying to sound excited. "The more the merrier."

"Great," she said. She was smiling really big. "I have a secret." Rachel must have a good one because she looked like the cat that got the canary and she knew how much Kurt liked gossip.

"Spill," he demanded.

"My dad's know someone and got me four amazing tickets, down on the floor, fourth row as an early birthday present and I want to go with you three."

Stunned, Kurt's mouth fell open. He would bet his genuine McQueen leather jacket that her dad's were trying to keep her mind off what name would show up on her wrist.

"They also go me..." she paused for dramatic effect, "wait for it...back stage passes!"

Kurt squealed. He didn't care why they got her the tickets. Forth row! Several students turned to see what was causing the commotion. Kurt was jumping up and down yelling, "Oh my Versace!"

"They also said they would get me a hotel room so we can spend the night, but that news is somewhat anticlimactic."

"I love you, Rachel!" shouted Kurt. He threw his arms around her, almost knocking her over in his enthusiasm. Mercedes snorted. Tina hid her smile behind her hand. They were causing a bit of a stir.

Rachel finally noticed how much attention they were drawing. "We aren't mated," she said loudly. "He's just very happy." People went back to their own business.

Kurt was on cloud fucking nine all day until he was headed home from school. Reality came crashing down around him when he realized he would have to get his dad's permission. He squared his shoulders. There was no way he wasn't going to the concert. He would convince his dad he could take care of himself. He may be a sub, but he wasn't helpless.

After asking, begging, pleading, and threatening to never speak to his Dad again, Burt finally agreed. Kurt could hardly sleep that night. He felt a little guilty fantasizing about Brett while masturbating, but he couldn't help it. Every time he tried to picture Blaine Anderson, he always saw a slightly older man with dark curly hair and olive skin.


The show was amazing. Blaine loved San Francisco. He even managed to sneak in a few touristy things by hiding his hair under a hat and wearing a long sleeve shirt to cover the pink bracelet. He looked so nerdy with fake black plastic glasses on that no one would mistake him for a rock star. They had a show in Phoenix - too hot, two in Texas - also too hot, and Florida - way too hot and too humid. They headed up to New York which was a pleasant temperature and much more fun for everyone. The hit several cities throughout the mid-west. The last show would be in Columbus.

After much soul searching (ha!) Blaine had decided he was done waiting and would allow the TV show to help him find his mate. He hated the thought of gong back to his condo alone. He would have faith that his Kurt would be safe even if there was a media frenzy. It was always big news when an unattached celebrity found their mate.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it - coming home from a long day of filming to find his sub kneeling by the door ready to do anything Blaine wanted. His Kurt would look up at him and say "Yes, Sir," to each and every request. They would have sex on every flat surface in the condo and then start on the ones at the studio.

It would be heaven. And he would be such a good Dom, taking care of Kurt, keeping him safe. Yeah, the more he thought about it the more determined he became. Some people never sought out their mate, finding love with a person who's name was not on their wrist. Blaine wanted his forever.

He needed to clear it with his agent first. He sat with his phone on his lap, finger over the call button, trying to find the courage. A deep breath and he called Angela, relieved when she didn't answer, so he left a message about going on TV to find his Kurt.

Blaine was excited about going to Columbus. Ohio was boring, but it was the last show so he could finally get his life on track.


Kurt, and the girls listened to Warblers CDs the entire way to Columbus. They sang along, blasting the music. They checked into the hotel, tossing their stuff on the two beds, squabbling about who got to use the bathroom first. Rachel won, mostly because her dads had paid for the room, so Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina crowded in front of the mirror over the table. By the time Rachel had emerged from the shower, Kurt's hair was coiffed to perfection and he was ready to go. He took one glance at Rachel's outfit, and horrified that she could consider something with a kitten on it proper attire for a concert, he sent her back into the bathroom to change into the shirt he brought for her.

When Kurt decided they were presentable (Rachel) or fabulous (everyone else), they piled back in the car and headed to the LC Pavilion. They arrived stupid early hoping to catch a glimpse of the singers entering the venue. The whole area was packed, screaming fans waving signs as the tour bus pulled up. The security guards had made it clear they were to stay on their side of the ropes and anyone trying to go under or over, would not be seeing the show.

Kurt, despite not wanting to act like a teenage fangirl, cheered with everyone else when Brett got off the bus. He was even more gorgeous in person, fitted tee shirt showing off his muscles and messy curls that begged to have fingers run through them. Kurt felt a pulling sensation. He needed to push his way through the fans, kneel before Brett and agree to anything he wanted. Kurt started to shove his way forward. Grabbing his wrist, Tina hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I don't know," Kurt admitted. He closed his eyes, almost like he was in pain. "I have to submit to Brett. I've never felt anything like this." He opened his eyes slowly.

"He's a strong Dom, I feel it too. It's normal," said Tina. "Ignore it. I don't care how cute you are, you go causing a scene and you will get us kicked out of this concert. And I can't handle the epic bitchfit you and Rachel will throw if we can't see the show." She took Kurt's right wrist and held the name in front of his face. "Blaine is your Dom. You submit to him. Not some straight pop star, got it?"

Kurt nodded. What the hell had he been thinking? Brett probably had hundreds of people trying to throw themselves at him and submit. He didn't need another crazy fan getting in his face when he was here to perform. Kurt shook himself to clear his head. He looked up to find Brett's eyes locked on his. He would swear it. Out of the hundreds of people in the crowd, Kurt would swear up and down that Brett was staring right and him. And only him. It was like Some Enchanted Evening from South Pacific. Kurt knew he was destined for Blaine, but in that moment, he fell head over heels in love with Brett Anders.

The Dalton stars were shaking hands and signing autographs as they slowly made their way towards the building. Kurt managed to push his way forward. He stretched his arm and shook Brett's hand. Everything around him faded away and all he could see was Brett. The sound of the crowd muted until they could have been alone, just the two of them, with nobody else in the world.

Blaine's eyes pulled towards the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. He felt the connection the instant he had touched the boys hand. The ecstasy of the simple touch was overwhelming. Why were all his idiot fans pushing the boy and not giving him space? He growled. Jeff discreetly kicked Blaine's ankle. "Snap out of it," he hissed.

Blaine held on to the amazing boy for longer than he should have considering how many fans were trying to touch him. Letting go, he let his fingers trail along the boy's hand. He had to force his gaze away from blue gray eyes. That exact shade of blue gray was suddenly his favorite color. He would have to get Wes' girlfriend to make him a new bracelet the color of beautiful boy's eyes. Hot pink was stupid because it clashed with blue gray.

He managed to glance at the boy's wrist as he was being pushed forward by the Dalton cast behind him. Blaine wasn't one hundred percent certain, he had only caught a glimpse, but it looked like the name on the right wrist of the most beautiful boy in the world was Blaine E. Anderson. In Blaine's handwriting.

Nick shoved him forward. He had lost the boy in the sea of people screaming his name. Blaine tried to move back, to see if beautiful boy was his mate, but the producer of the tour was dragging him and the rest of the cast into the Pavilion. He didn't care about the concert, singing or the fact that he'd be in breach of contract if he didn't get his ass in gear and get ready to preform. The only thing that mattered was getting back outside and seeing if beautiful boy really was his Kurt Hummel.

Blaine started struggling once he'd been herded inside with the rest of the cast. Kurt. He had to get back to his Kurt. He needed to go out there, get on one knee, and propose. He was a little fuzzy on the details after that, but they mostly involved tying Kurt to the head board of his king size bed and having sex till they were too tired to move. He could have groceries delivered and they could stay in his condo for a month or two. Or five.

Jeff was blocking the door and keeping him from his destiny. Blaine pulled back his fist, ready to punch Jeff in the face if that was what it took for him to get out of the god damn way.

"What the actual fuck, Brett?" said Nick, careful as always to use his friend's stage name.

"I think I saw Kurt!" yelled Blaine. Nick and Jeff froze. They were two of the few people who knew what name was hidden under Brett's bracelet.

"No shit?" said Jeff. "Oh." Kurt was outside in the crowd. Of screaming fans. Where Blaine couldn't get to him.

"What do I do?" whimpered Blaine.

"What's going on?" demanded the tour producer, Richard. He loathed dealing with whatever nonsense stars thought was more important than the show.

"I saw my Kurt," said Blaine.

"Who?" They didn't have time for this nonsense.

"Kurt," said Blaine. He pushed the cuff up his wrist. Pointing at the name, he said, "my Kurt. I need to go find him."

Shit, thought Richard. He was fucked. There was no way he could keep Brett from his mate. The boy would go psychotic or worse, quit, to get to his sub. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Wait...there might be another option. "Brett," he said suddenly, "if you go out in that mob trying to find your Kurt, you guys are both going to get trampled. We need to get him to you quietly."

Blaine calmed down almost instantly. Yes, Kurt needs to be safe. Because he would kill anyone who touched a hair on the beautiful boy's head.

"Here's the plan," said the producer. "At the end of the show, before the final encore, we'll announce one very lucky Kurt Hummel is going to come on stage and get serenaded. We will get security to escort him to the front."

"What if there's more than one Kurt Hummel?" whined Blaine. He only wanted his Kurt.

"We'll check the name on his wrist," said the producer. He had to get Brett on stage and singing. He couldn't cancel this concert less than three hours before it was due to start.

"I will get a waver saying that he is agreeing to go onstage and have his image used in conjunction with promoting the show. I can make sure the signatures match and I will check the name on his wrist. I know people cover names with makeup and write over them, but we will be certain we have the correct person even if I have to wash his wrist myself. We can even have him put his address and phone number on the paper."

Blaine sighed in relief. They would keep his Kurt safe and bring him up on stage so he could sing to him. And he didn't even need to tell the audience that Kurt was his mate.

"Brett," said the producer, praying the singer would agree, "we need you to get get ready for the show." He shoved a paper and pen at Blaine and had him sign his name so he would be able to compare the signature on the boy in questions wrist. "Your Kurt is a fan and you don't want him to be disappointed, do you? He'll be so sad if you don't sing for him."

That's right, Blaine realized. Kurt would be unhappy. He couldn't have that. A mate should be proud of his Dom. Blaine wandered off to the dressing room in a haze of love, a dopey looking smile on his face.

The producer looked at the signature. Blaine Everett Anderson. That would make this much easier. He was willing to bet at least a quarter of Brett's fans had Brett Anders written on their wrists.

He had about an hour to prepare to find a needle in a haystack. He called an emergency meeting with security.

Less than thirty minuets later, the plan was in place. Security was to check the IDs of everyone. Whoever found a Kurt Hummel was to check his wrist for the name Blaine Everett Anderson with or without the middle name or initial. He had won a contest and they needed to find him discretely. Most of the security personnel were curious, but they would do as they were told. Especially in light of the fact that the person to locate the mysterious Mr. Hummel would be getting an extremely nice bonus.


Kurt was so excited he could barley keep from bouncing up and down. They had gone and gotten a quick snack after the singers had entered the building. Kurt had wanted something to settle his stomach. Tina kept assuring him the pull he felt was because he hadn't been sixteen for long and his hormones were acting wacky. She reminded him that she still had it happen to her around powerful Doms even though she was Mike's sub.

The excitement in line was infectious. People were wearing Dalton shirts and bink bracelets. Several fans even had on Dalton uniforms. Kurt huffed in annoyance. One guy had on long shorts and knee high boots. And his jacket was black, instead of navy, without the red trim. The nerve of some people. If you were going to make a uniform, you should try to be accurate.

It was taking longer than they were expecting to get through the line. Ah, Kurt realized as they got closer, security was checking ID's. The guard hardly glanced at the girl's driver licenses, but his eyes bugged out when he saw Kurt's name. He grabbed Kurt's right hand and twisted so the name was visible. Kurt snatched his hand back. He opened his mouth to give the guard a piece of his mind.

"Kurt Hummel, you are our lucky winner."

Kurt closed his mouth. Winner? He should hear the guy out before his verbally rips the guy's head off for being rude. "If you will come with me." The girls were starting to protest - none of them had heard anything about a contest, this sounded fishy, what was he thinking?"

Kurt dismissed their concerns. He had his ticket and would join them well before the show started. They were here two hours early, for Gucci's sake. He was the winner of the mysterious contest and he wanted to know what he'd won.

They brought him to a brightly lit office and left him inside alone. He was begining getting a little nervous as five then ten minuets passed. This might not be the smartest thing he'd ever done. His dad would be furious when he found out, and with the big mouth on Rachel, he probably would.

A nondescript man opened the door. He was average height, medium brown hair, brown eyes, and he had on pants and a jacket that matched what the security guards wore. His name tag had only his first name, Richard. The only thing noteworthy about the man was how nervous he seemed. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He had a piece of paper in his hands that he appeared to be having a hard time not fiddling with.

"Mr. Kurt Hummel?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes," said Kurt. Something was off. Kurt edged closer to the desk. There was a paperweight at arms length that he would throw at creepy Dick if he got any closer.

"Can I see your right wrist?" asked Richard.

Kurt crossed his arms, tucking his wrist next to his chest, hiding it from creepy Dick.

"It's for identification purposes," he said smoothy. "If it says Blaine Everette Anderson," Kurt's flinch was not lost on Richard, "then you get to go on stage and have Brett sing to you."

Kurt thrust out his wrist instantly. "It says Blaine E. Anderson, is that close enough?" If Kurt had stopped to think about it, he would have realized what a bizarre request it was. He hadn't purchased his ticket, Rachel's dads had and name of your soulmate was never used for identification.

Richard let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "That is close enough," said the producer. The signature matched Brett's. Blaine's. Whoever. He did have Kurt sign the form, to double check, but he knew he had the right guy.

Drunk with joy, Kurt listened to Richard - he would name his oldest son after the lovely amazing Richard - babble about how a security guard would escort him to the back area during the last song. He must be in his seat at that time, not in the bathroom, concession stand, or anywhere else in the building. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but only if he was where he belonged.

Kurt promised faithfully that he wouldn't budge from his seat even if there was a fire, earthquake, typhoon and hurricane all at the same time. After all the chaos of the last hour trying to orchestrate Operation Find Kurt Hummel, Richard prayed the boy hadn't jinxed them all, causing Armageddon.

Kurt floated into the seating area of the arena. Brett Anders would be singing a song to him, on stage, in front of thousands of screaming fans. And he had a back stage pass for after the show. He would get to talk to Brett. Nothing could possibly top this. This was the best day of his life. I don't know who you are Blaine Anderson, Kurt thought, but I am so glad your name is on my wrist.


Blaine was a mess of nervous energy. He had been dressed for over an hour now. Sitting down, he got up less than ten seconds later, pacing about the dressing room. He was driving everyone crazy. He couldn't stay still. He kept asking any and everyone within ear shot if they thought Kurt would like the show. Nick was ready to strangle Blaine, if Jeff didn't do it first.

"It's going to be fine!" yelled Jeff when Blaine asked, for the three hundred and twenty-seventh time, if Kurt would be angry about getting dragged up on stage. "If you went up to any fan in the building and wanted them to go on stage to be sung to, they would do it in a heartbeat."

Nick chimed in. "If you went to see the White Stripes and Jack White wanted to sing to you on stage, you wouldn't think twice even though you're gay and he's mated to a girl. And you know it wouldn't matter if he sang the Coke commercial song or Mary Had a Little Lamb. You'd be fucking ecstatic. Kurt's probably peeing his pants he's so excited."

For the first time since Blaine touched Kurt, he stopped moving. "Oh, god," he said. "What if he does pee his pants? He'll have to go home and change and he won't be here." Blaine's breath was coming in short pants. "What do I do?"

"Calm down, Brett!" yelled Richard, who had caught the tail end of the conversation. "We found Kurt. He's in the forth row. Security will escort him back stage during the last song. We have got this covered."

Blaine opened his mouth.

"He's thrilled," Richard cut Blaine off before he could get started again. "But not enough to actually pee his pants." Richard paused. "Kurt really wants to see an energetic show." Blaine needed to get over himself, so the director laid it on thick. "He paid a lot of money for the seats and backstage passes. Don't you want to impress you mate and his friends?"

Yes, thought Blaine, I do need to put on a good show for Kurt. His Kurt. After seven years, he had found his soul mate. He had no idea how to tell his sub. He'd have to wing it after the show.


The girls were concerned, bordering on panicking, by the time Kurt finally wandered over his seat with a glazed expression. For the first time in her life, Mercedes wondered if Kurt was stoned. His pupils were so dilated, you could hardly see any of the color.

"What happened, Kurt?" asked Tina. "Did you find your Blaine?" That was the only reasonable explanation she had for his drugged smile.

"Better," he breathed.

Tina was instantly on guard. Something was wrong. Nothing was better than finding your mate.

"No matter what happens to me ever again, today is the best day of my life," Kurt stated with absolute certainty.

The three girls exchanged confused looks. "Did Brett Anders blow you in the bathroom?" ask Mercedes, mostly joking.

"No, yuck," said Kurt. "Why would I have sex in a bathroom?"

"I would," said Rachel. "With Brett," she added when her three friends looked scandalized at the thought of her doing something like that in a public restroom. "What? He's gorgeous and I'm not mated yet."

Kurt knew he would too, but he saw no reason to let them know it. "The contest I won, I get to go on stage and Brett is going to sing me a song." The girls jaws dropped and no one said a word.

"How?" asked Tina. "I would have heard if there was a contest."

"Boo, you sure?" Mercedes didn't want to see Kurt get hurt. "When did you enter a contest?"

"Richard knew the name on my wrist and he had me sign a contract saying they could use my image to promote the show and whatnot."

There was something wrong with this situation, but Mercedes couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Rachel squealed. "I'm so jealous. This isn't fare. My dads bought the tickets, I should get sung to."

Kurt had given in to Rachel in glee club more times than he could count. She got the solos. She got the role she wanted in the school play. She got the guy she wanted, at least until her sixteenth birthday. "I don't care if I have to sleep in the alley behind the Pavilion and hitchhike home tomorrow morning, I am getting sung to," said Kurt, trying to keep from yelling.

"Rachel," said Tina evenly, "you are going to be happy for Kurt, or I will be joining him in the alley."

Rachel was crestfallen. "I'm sorry, it's just he's Brett Anders! I'll take a video with my phone and about a thousand pictures."

The lights flickered and the went down. The audience erupted in cheers, no one louder than Kurt. A loud booming voice announced the opening band. Kurt felt like he should care, they were decent singers, but they weren't Brett Anders. He wondered what song would be sung to him. He couldn't decide which one from the show would be best - they were all good. He wouldn't admit it out loud, he'd be horribly embarrassed, but he was hoping for a romantic song. He knew it was a long shot, a straight boy like Brett singing about how much he loved him...but he could dream. This memory alone should hold him over, happily, until he found his Blaine.

The Dalton Academy actors were on fire, singing their hearts out. Kurt had never imagined a concert could be this unbelievable. And Brett! He was so handsome, his curls escaping from the gel as he got sweaty dancing. Brett had the best sex hair ever. He would love to see Brett with hair like that, naked on a bed, telling Kurt exactly how to make him feel good.

Blaine wanted this show to be amazing. Everything would change when he revealed himself to Kurt. No, he had to think about that later. After he had impressed his mate with his singing and dancing. Trying to find Kurt from every angle as he danced around the stage was throwing him off a little. The pull was getting worse. Jumping off the stage and throwing himself at Kurt was sounding like an increasingly excellent idea. Two more songs, he told himself. Two more songs and he could change out of his Dalton uniform.

Splashing water on his face while changing had helped Blaine. He felt a little more in control. As they were starting the third song in their casual clothes, the last one before the encore, he saw a security guard heading into the fourth row to get his Kurt. Blaine managed to keep his voice steady while his mate was brought around to the back of the stage.

Kurt was so excited, he thought he might faint. He would never forgive himself if he did and didn't have Brett sing to him. Taking deep steadying breaths, he forced his heart to slow down.

This was it - the most exciting moment of his life was about to happen.

Blaine came out of the dressing room, radiantly smiling, in casual clothes consisting of tight jeans and a fitted Captain Hammer shirt. "Hi," he said.

Kurt desperately wanted to drop to his knees. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to remain standing.

"Come with me," he said. Kurt had to do as Brett commanded. I want to, he reminded himself, repeatedly. It's fine because I want to. Now was so not the time to analyze his screwy hormones.

"Did anyone explain what's going to happen?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. "They are going to announce the encore and that I won the contest. We'll go out on stage. I'll follow you're lead." Kurt couldn't believe he was talking to Brett Anders like he was a regular person. He was going to wake up any second now, in his bed, with a raging hard on. He was hoping he could at least stay asleep until after the song.

Blaine thought he must be dreaming. Kurt was more than beautiful up close. And his voice! It suited him perfectly. This whole thing about soulmates clicked for him. All the boys he'd kissed and the ones he'd slept with - forgotten. The two times he thought he was in love - meaningless. Everyone and everything on the planet earth came a very distant second to his Kurt.

"I'm in glee club at my high school and we do a lot of improvisation and songs on the fly," Kurt blurted out. Blushing at how young he must sound, he said, "I mean, I can do something besides just standing in the middle of the stage, if you want me to."

How cute, thought Blaine, my mate is in glee club. The range he must have. We should sing together. They might not be able to spent five months locked in his condo with Kurt tied to the bed if he's still in high school. Hmmmm. The schools in LA are probably better than the ones in Ohio. He'd be talking to Kurt's parents in the next couple of days.

"I would like it," said Blaine, "if you play a little hard to get." No, actually he wouldn't, but it would make for a better performance. He wanted Kurt to declare his undying love and fall to his knees. "I'm going to chase you around the stage. You can kind of hide behind people as long as you stay at least three feet away from the edge of the stage. We don't want to fall off accidentally."

"Sure," said Kurt breathlessly. "I'll do anything you want." Guh. Blaine wanted him to say that while they were naked.

"You'll be fantastic, Kurt Hummel." Blaine wanted to say that while they were naked.

Kurt was tempted to ask what song Brett would be singing. Clamping his lips together, he stopped himself from ruining the surprise.

Brett left his side to walk out onto the stage. "We have a special encore!" he shouted. Waiting for the applause to die down, he motioned to Kurt. Kurt waved shyly as he approached Brett. "A very lucky boy has won the opportunity to be sung to by me and the cast of Dalton. Say hello, Kurt."

"Hello," said Kurt in a clear voice. Cheers erupted from all over the arena. Kurt wanted to laugh. He had said one word and been applauded. No wonder Brett like to perform. This was fun.

"This is for you," said Brett and Kurt wanted to swoon. The opening notes to Beethoven's fifth symphony started, the Dalton cast singing the notes.

Kurt knew the instant it had started, what song he was being serenaded with. It was the one Brett's character had sang to Cathy in the coffee shop.


Baby girl, where you at?

Got no strings, got men attached

Can't stop that feelin' for long no


You makin' dogs wanna beg

Breaking them off your fancy legs

But they make you feel right at home, now

Brett was looking at Kurt like he wanted to eat him alive. When he had sung the song in the TV show, the girl in question had kept trying to get away, unable to leave the building while she was working. Brett's character had climbed up on the chairs and tables dancing around her while his friends sang back up. Brett has said to play hard to get. He could do that.

Kurt danced away, weaving in and out of the other singers on the stage. Brett would stalk closer and Kurt would back up, keeping him on the run.

Baby girl you da shit

That makes you my equivalent

You can keep your toys in the drawer tonight,

All right

All my dawgs talkin' fast-

Aint you got some photographs?

'Cause you shook that room like a star, now

Yes you did, oh

Forget dreaming, Kurt was sure he'd died and was in the heaven he didn't believe in. There was no way he was on stage with Brett Anders being sung to about sex toys. He laughed as he managed to stay two steps ahead of Brett and just out of reach. If only Brett really wanted to get him alone.

I get you alone

When I get you alone

I get you alone

When I get you alone



Brett was standing right in front of Kurt, breathing hard from the singing and dancing. Kurt fell on his knees and looked up at him from under his lashes. Brett reached down and ran his fingers through Kurt's hair. Kurt leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment.

The entire universe was at peace until Jeff said, "Holy shit!" louder than he'd probably intend to. Kurt's eyes opened to a reality he wasn't prepared to deal with. He was on his knees before his boyhood crush on the stage at a sold out show. If he wasn't dreaming, he would be dying of shame in the very near future. Brett tried to cover, saying "That was the final encore. Thanks for coming out we hope you enjoyed the show!"

The applause was still ringing in Kurt's ears as Brett helped him up and off the stage. "I'm so sorry," stammered Kurt. "I don't know what came over me. I think I had an out of body experience. Aliens took over my mind. I was possessed. The devil made me do it." Kurt knew he was babbling a bunch of nonsense. He bit his lips together to shut himself up.

"It's fine, Kurt," he said. There would be ramifications, fine might be stretching it. He could take Kurt on Late Night with Leslie and tell the world what really happened. Yeah, he'd better do that or he'd have fans kneeling before him everywhere he went.

"Wait right here, Kurt," Blaine commanded. "I need to get my bag and I'll be right back."

Kurt had to get out of there. Brett had told him to stay. Forget Brett. He wasn't Kurt's Dom. Kurt was footloose and fancy free. Find the girls, he told himself, and then get the hell out of here. It was almost impossible to walk away. Knowing he'd made a fool of himself on stage was the only thing that gave him ability to put one foot in front of the other. Brett would be back shortly and Kurt couldn't face him again.

He texted Mercedes as he walked, asking where she was.

"Headed back stage." Duh! Now Kurt felt silly. The have backstage passes. He swore to Versace he wasn't going within ten feet of Brett Anders. There was a bathroom a few doors ahead. He went inside and back to the furthest stall. He set the lid of the toilet down and sat on it, tucking his feet up so no one would realize he was hiding. He was staying where he was. One of the girls would text him eventually. And this was a rather nice bathroom. Very clean. He could live here forever like the Phantom of the Opera, stealing food from the concession stands. His complexion would get shot to hell so he'd need a mask. That's it, he thought. He had his whole life planned out. And he'd never have to show his face in public again.

Blaine grabbed his bag, double checking he had his phone and wallet. He wasn't supposed to wear his concert clothes home, but they would have to forgive him this once. He needed to get back to Kurt. His head was filled with plans for romance and sex. He shot his agent off an email from his phone saying he wanted to go on the talk show and then no shows, interviews, or publicity stuff for at least a month. Unsure of if he'd be in LA or in Ohio, he knew he'd be spending time with his mate.

He was back to the spot he'd left Kurt less than two minuets later. Kurt wasn't there. Blaine frowned. They were going to be having a discussion about this. He was fair and expected to be obeyed. Turning in a circle, Blaine couldn't see his Kurt. What. The. Hell? Blaine was bouncing between anger that Kurt hadn't done what he was told and panic that something had happened. The only thing keeping him from flipping his shit was the waiver with his phone number and address. He didn't want to show up at Kurt's house without telling him who he was first. But he would if he had to.

Think, Blaine told himself, where would Kurt go? Blaine spun again. The bathroom. He ran to the washroom, pushing the door open, calling, "Kurt?" No answer. No one at the urinals. A quick glance under the stalls showed no feet. Where the fuck had he gone?

Kurt heard the door open and someone say his name. It sounded like it might be Brett, but he really wasn't sure. Holding his breath and saying a prayer to the Grilled Cheesus, Kurt stayed as still as possible. The door opened and closed. He had to go home. He listened for several minuets, to be absolutely certain he was alone, before sneaking out of the stall. He opened the door a crack. He couldn't see anyone. Courage, he thought. I can get out of this building. The lit exit sign twenty feet away was his salvation. The hotel was less than a mile from the Pavilion. He would walk there. Mercedes would be pissed. Well, she would have to deal, he decided.

No one was visible in the hall. Fifteen more feet. He didn't want to run and call attention to himself. Ten feet. He was almost there. Five feet. He could do this. Two feet. He could practically touch the door. He had made it! He almost wanted to scream in relief. Until he stepped outside, into a wall of cheering Dalton fans. And he screamed for real.

Blaine was frantic. Kurt had disappeared. He asked every person he passed in an increasingly panicked voice if they had seen his Kurt. Most of the random people wandering in the back area had no idea who he was talking about.

There was Richard! Richard would know where Kurt was.

"Richard," Blaine sounded frantic. "Kurt's missing. Have you seen him?"

Richard was relieved this was no longer his problem. He'd had enough crazy tonight to last a lifetime. "He and his friends have backstage passes."

Of course, Kurt was with the other fans. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck. That wasn't the safest place for Kurt. He had no clue what some insane fan might be saying to his mate.

Blaine took off running and burst through the door of the room set aside for people with back stage passes. Everyone cheered. Except Blaine. Kurt wasn't in here. When he got his hands on his sub, he was bending him over his lap and spanking his ass red for pulling this shit. He took another hopeless look around for Kurt, bumping into an Asian girl with blue streaks in her hair.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, too." she said. Fine, whatever, he thought. "And I'm sorry about Kurt," she added. Blaine froze.

"Kurt?" he demanded, turning to face her.

"The boy you sang to. He's sixteen," she said. "He hasn't settled into being a sub yet. I'm sure he didn't mean to kneel like that and embarrass you. Please don't be mad."

"I don't care if you are famous, white boy," said a large black girl. "You better not go after him."

"What my friend Mercedes means to say," said a brunette, glaring at the black girl, "is that we would appreciate it, very much, if you don't try to do anything to Kurt over this. He was so excited to be sung to."

These were Kurt's friends! "I'm not mad," said Blaine in a rush. "I have to talk to him. I'm not mad. Not in the slightest. I swear. I don't care about...on stage," he waved his hand dismissively. "Please, where is he?"

"Um," said blue streaks.

"I will get on my knees and beg if I have to, but it is critical that I find him, immediately," Blaine pleaded.

Tina blinked at him. Doms never begged. She wasn't even sure they could. The only time a Dom ever got on their knees was to propose.

"I'll do anything," he said. Be nice to Kurt's friends, he thought over and over while trying to stay clam. They will know where he is.

"What if I want to guest star on Dalton?" asked Rachel. Something was off. She wondered how serious Brett was about finding Kurt. And why. And if she could actually get on the show. She was protecting Kurt and this could be her big acting break. She was the best friend ever!

"I don't make the casting decisions," Blaine whined. "I will talk to the producer. I'll tell him I quit if he won't give you a role." He wasn't a violent person. He would not hit a girl even if she was keeping him from his mate.

"Woah!" said Rachel. He would quit? He wanted Kurt. Badly. He really was willing to do anything.

"If you you are Kurt's friends, you will take me to him," said Blaine through clenched teeth.

"Give me one good reason," said the brunette.

"Come here," he growled. Tina stepped forward, involuntarily. "Where. Is. He?"

"Hiding because he's terrified you're pissed," she said.

He was going to knock their heads together.

The walkie talkie of the security guard crackled to life. "Everyone to the side exit, stat."

"Copy that, what's wrong?" asked the guard as he started moving towards the door.

"That kid who went on stage is outside, and we're going to have a riot if we don't get it under control, now."

Blaine didn't listen when the guard told him to stay put. He snatched the protective goggles out of the guard's hand when he saw him pull out the can of pepper spray. Kurt was in danger and Blaine was going to save him.

Kurt's scream trailed off into a surprised eek! when he saw all the people outside. He stood, stunned, listening to the door close behind him. It was pandemonium. People were yelling, trying to touch him, shouting questions and he couldn't think. There were a couple of security guards trying to clam the crowd down, but it was like trying to stop a speeding mack truck with your body, impossible.

Kurt was pushed back into the wall and he cried out in pain. There were people everywhere. He couldn't get out. He couldn't breath. He was going to get trampled. Twenty minuets ago, he'd wanted to die, but not like this. Kurt turned and pulled on the handle. He'd rather face Brett. The door had locked behind him. His life didn't flash before his eyes and that made him sad. He had wanted to see his mom and dad one last time. He wished he could tell Blaine Anderson, whoever he was, that he was sorry they would never meet and he hoped Blaine would find a lifetime of happiness with someone else.

The door he'd escaped through opened and several guards came through yelling for everyone to back up, canisters of pepper spray held up as a warning. There was too many people and too much chaos. The guards started spraying nearby fans. Kurt squinched his eyes shut and ducked, curling up into a ball next to the wall, shielding his eyes with his arms.

"Kurt Hummel!" yelled a frantic voice. Kurt opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. There was a cloud of pepper spray in the air. His eyes watered as they burned. "Kurt!" screamed the voice again.

"Here!" he shouted waiving his arm. "I'm here."

A hand grabbed his wrist and dragged him to his feet. The burning intensified when tried to open his eyes to see who his savior was. Strong arms picked him up and carried him princess style. It was a man, Kurt could tell, but that was all he knew. The temperature changed and the noise of the crowd faded, they must be inside.

Kurt wrapped his arms around the man's neck. "It's going to be okay, Baby," his savior said. "I've got you. You're going to be safe, now."

Kurt whimpered in pain. If he could just get the spray out of his eyes, he would never complain about locker shoves again.

Disoriented from being carried with his eyes closed, Kurt wobbled when he was set down on what felt like a couch. Someone steadied him and his savior yelled for a nurse.

A soft female voice asked him to lean over and open his eyes so she could flush them out. It was agonizing. The soapy fluid made them itch and burn worse until the spray washed away. His eyes felt gritty and they still hurt. He was certain his face was a mess and it felt red and puffy. He would wish he was dreaming except he was in too much pain to believe he was safe in his bed.

He couldn't get his eyes all the way open when he tried, and everything was blurry. Kurt was too drained to pay attention to what the nurse was doing. Something cold was pressed over his closed eyes. The nurse was his new best friend. Forget Richard. He was naming all of his children, even the boys, after the nurse.

The fog of pain was slowly lifting. His savior had an arm around his waist and was murmuring soothing words of comfort in his ear. He leaned back onto the shoulder. He was so tired.

The man he was curled up with pulled him onto his lap and rocked him gently back and forth. The cold pack was removed from his eyes. "It's been several minuets, can you open your eyes for me, Baby?"

Shaking his head no, Kurt whimpered, "No. Hurts."

"I know, Baby, but the nurse needs to check your eyes," the voice said. Fingers stroked through his hair. "I can make it an order, but I'd rather not."

Kurt slowly, very slowly, opened his eyes. The nurse, Christine according to her blurry name tag, had him follow her finger and shone a light in his eyes before declaring he was good to go. Reminding him he shouldn't drive and he should get his eyes checked in the next day or two, she patted his knee and left.

Kurt turned to thank the man that had saved his life. He startled so badly when he realized he was sitting in Brett Anders' lap, that he fell on the floor. He didn't even bother to get up. He had to get the fuck out of there like an hour ago. Kurt half scrambled backwards trying to get away before something worse happened. He hit a wall and frantically looked for a door. Crap. The Grilled Cheesus had a sick sense of humor. The door was way on the other side of the room with two couches, several tables and Brett in between him and the way out.

Blaine ran over to his mate. Kurt yelled," I'm sorry!" and covered his face with his arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He kept saying it over and over until the words were blurred by his crying.

"Kurt you need to snap out of it this instant," said Blaine in a firm tone.

It was one of the weirdest things Kurt had ever experienced - he stopped crying immediately.

"Why didn't you stay where I told you to?" asked Blaine.

"I was afraid you'd be angry I embarrassed you on stage so I decided to leave," said Kurt, almost tacking the word Sir on the end.

"You got hurt because you disobeyed a direct order," growled Blaine.

"You may be rich and famous, but you aren't my Dom. I don't have to listen to you." Kurt had managed to keep his voice low. The last thing he needed right now was to get roughed up by security for screaming at Brett.

Blaine was a horrible Dom. Of course Kurt wouldn't listen to him. In his excitement at finding Kurt, he'd forgotten he hadn't actually told Kurt who he was.

Blaine unbuckled his pink cuff and held his wrist up for Kurt's inspection. "I know your eyes aren't at a hundred percent, but can you read what it says?"

Kurt blinked several times. In his own distinctive neat handwriting were the words Kurt Hummel. "I..." started Kurt. It wasn't possible. Brett's Kurt was a different Kurt. His mate's name was Blaine. "I'm not your Kurt," he said, holding his wrist out. "My wrist says Blaine Anderson."

"So does my driver's license. And my birth certificate," Blaine said giving it a minuet for the information to sink in. "Brett Anders is a stage name. My name is Blaine Anderson. Blaine Everett Anderson."

"Oh my Gucci," said Kurt. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted. His Dom caught him before his head could hit the floor. He hadn't done a very good job of protecting Kurt in the last hour, but he would do better. He would keep his sub safe from now on.

Kurt could hear voices as he slowly regained consciousness. Mercedes was yelling, "Oh hell to the no, you've got another thing coming if you think you're taking my boy with you."

He could hear Rachel, too. "If I have to drag Burt Hummel into this, he will bring his flame thrower."

"He's a minor," said Tina.

"Not anymore," said Kurt, sitting up slowly as the world shifted into focus. "Show them," he said to Blaine. Realizing he'd given his Dom and order, he added, "please."

Blaine held out his wrist. All three girls gasped. "But Kurt's named with Blaine Anderson," said Rachel. Her eyes narrowed. "You use a stage name," she said. That was such a good idea. Of course, Finn was her destiny, but that would keep her adoring fans from showing up with her actual name on their wrists.

"Yes," he said. He held out his had for her to shake. "Hi, my name is Blaine Everett Anderson, better known as Brett Anders."

Brunette, black girl and blue streaks introduced themselves as Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina.

"I guess you can take him with you, if you're over twenty," Mercedes said. "I will be checking your ID. I don't care if you are Kurt's Dom, you hurt my Boo and I will cut you."

Blaine liked Mercedes. "Not a problem and I appreciate your concern for Kurt." He figured would be getting a similar threat from Kurt's parents, in the next few days so this was good practice. He showed Kurt and all three girls his driver's license to removed any lingering doubts about who he was to Kurt.

They had dropped the girls off and gotten Kurt's stuff on the way to Blaine's hotel. The cast was staying at an upscale place to celebrate that they would all be able to fly home tomorrow. Kurt was panicking. He'd fantasized about finding his Dom and he had an active imagination, but no experience to back it up. He doubted Blaine was a virgin and wasn't sure what would be expected of him when they got to the room.

They weren't married, it wasn't official, but that was a mere technicality at this point. Blaine could do anything he wanted to him and Kurt was in no position to stop him. Burt could, only if he could prove his son's Dom was abusing him. Blaine had told him to take some aspirin at the Pavilion before they left and between that and all the crying he'd done, his eyes felt better. Now he was starting to feel nauseous.

It had been a long day. Blaine was glad he'd unpacked his stuff before the show, his pajamas laid out, toothbrush and shampoo in the bathroom. He wanted a shower, to fall into bed with his mate, and amazing sex followed by going to sleep.

"I am desperate for a shower," Blaine told Kurt. "Join me?"

"Yes, Sir," said Kurt. He was going to throw up. He stripped his shirt off, best to get it over with.

"Hey," said Blaine, "You're blushing." He frowned. Kurt wasn't trembling with excitement, he was shaking in fear. Blaine gently grabbed Kurt's face and forced him to look him in the eyes. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, especially tonight. We will be getting married shortly, but even after that, I will not force you into anything."

Kurt sagged in relief.

"We'll need to set some ground rules. For tonight, I am not going to order you to do anything. I will ask. There will be no repercussions for saying no. I won't even ask why, okay? I might later, but not tonight."

"Thank you," Kurt whispered.

"Would you like to take a shower with me or a separate one?" Blaine asked.

"By myself, please?" Kurt couldn't help the questioning tone his voice had taken.

"Sure, Baby," said Blaine. "Whatever you want. What kind of pajamas do you normally sleep in?"

"Usually just my underwear," said Kurt. "I brought boxers and a shirt or I can sleep in my clothes on the couch. You weren't planning to have an overnight guest." Blaine was famous and gorgeous, thought Kurt, maybe he was. "Were you?"

"No, I wasn't," said Blaine. "I don't pick up random fans. I've been looking for you forever. Will you be comfortable sleeping in your boxers in the bed with me?"

Kurt considered the question. "What are you sleeping in?"

"Boxers and a shirt." Blaine figured Kurt would be most comfortable if they were dressed the same. Kurt was turning bright red. The thought of pressing up against a mostly naked Blaine was dizzying.

"Until we have a chance to really talk this out, you have my permission to do anything you want as long as you aren't putting yourself in danger. We are not going to have sex sex tonight, but I would be honored if you would let me take care of you after we get in bed. That's not a demand." There, thought Blaine. That should hopefully strike the perfect balance between "I want to watch you have an orgasm" and "I know you're not ready for for me to fuck you, yet."

"Okay," said Kurt. He grabbed his stuff and bolted for the shower. He emerged fifteen minuets later in a hotel robe.

"Give me ten minuets, Baby." Kurt nodded.

Blaine was back in the bedroom less than seven having made sure he was scrupulously clean. Kurt was laying in the bed, covers up to his chin, looking nervous.

Blaine crawled under the blankets and snuggled up next to Kurt. "Can I kiss you?" he asked.

"I've never had a kiss that's counted," Kurt admitted. Blaine filed that information away in the back of his mind for later questions.

"Then I'll have to make this one count," he said, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Kurt's. Licking along the seam of Kurt's mouth, he slid his tongue inside when Kurt gasped. "Gonna make you feel so good," moaned Blaine.

Did he ever. Kurt woke up the next morning sated and content. Blaine had made the kiss count. All of the kisses counted. Especially when he had kissed down Kurt's chest and stomach to his cock. Blaine's mouth on his dick was sinfully delicious. He had never felt anything so amazing. His fantasies had nothing on his Dom's mouth. Blaine had easily convinced him that sex would be fantastic and he would make it good for his sub. As far as Kurt was concerned, Blaine could do anything to him he wanted any time he wanted and they would be having "proper" sex at the earliest available opportunity.

Blaine awoke to see Kurt staring at him. "I thought it was a dream," he said sleepily. I was sure that when I opened my eyes, you'd be gone."

"Never," said Kurt. "After last night, you'd have to pry me away with a crowbar."

"Just the tip of the iceberg," said Blaine. "We have a lifetime to do it all, Love. I swear I won't rush you."

"I can't believe you're my soulmate."

"I can't believe you're mine." Blaine didn't want to let reality poke holes in their bubble of joy, but they did have certain obligations they had to meet. "When can I talk to your parents?"

"The sooner the better. My Dad married my Mom even though her name wasn't on his wrist. She died when I was little. He married his mate, Carole, recently. He wasn't in a hurry for me to find you."

"Should I be worried?"

"No, he got rid of his shotgun when Finn, Carole's son, moved in."

Blaine was waiting for the punchline.

"I think he still has the flame thrower, though. He's threatened to burn the school down with it at least twice. Why he thinks Finn can't be trusted to live in the same house as a gun but a flame thrower isn't a problem, is beyond me."

Blaine gulped. He should get a body guard to come with him.


Two weeks later, Blaine had called the late night show. Leslie had been generous in her offer to help him find his mate. Yes, she had done it to get ratings, but he appreciated the trouble she was willing to go to make it a success. After the pandemonium at the last concert, she was thrilled when he told her the boy he'd sung to wanted to make a public apology. Would she be willing to have them both on?

Yes, she would, even if it meant canceling on someone else.

Blaine waved at the audience as he walked on stage. He sat down in the chair across from the desk. She asked a few random questions about life on the road, how much fun he'd had performing, any news about plots or information about the next season of Dalton, etcetera, etcetera.

"Now, what I think everyone is dying to know is what happened with the boy you sang to. We heard reports of fans being pepper sprayed."

"That's quite the story," said Blaine. "I may need some help to tell it correctly, Kurt?"

Kurt walked out onto the stage and sat down next to Blaine. "Hi," he said, "my name is Kurt Hummel and I am the boy Brett sang to at the Columbus concert."

There was dead silence from the audience. It didn't sound like anybody breathed.

Blaine had ordered Kurt not to fidget on stage before they went on. He sat there back strait, chin up, and daring anyone to boo. "I want to apologize to the people who got sprayed when I went out the side entrance. I got some in my eyes and I know how much it hurt. Everyone there were hoping to get an up close look at the cast and I'd be willing to bet it was mob mentality more than anyone being malicious."

Leslie paused and asked, "what about after the song?"

"I also know I caused an uproar when I knelt on the stage. That was also not my intention. I am truly sorry for all the confusion and the difficulties I caused."

"Wow," said Leslie, "that takes a lot of guts to come on national TV and admit you made a mistake."

"Going out the side door was an error that got myself and several others hurt, but kneeling on the stage wasn't a mistake. I feel bad it has caused so many problems, but not sorry I did it."

Leslie frowned. The balls on this kid. This was not what they had rehearsed this afternoon.

Blaine winked at Kurt. He unbuckled the pink cuff and took it off in public for the first time in years. He set it on the desk and held out his wrist to Leslie. "Kurt here is my soul mate. My legal name is Blaine Everette Anderson which is written on his right wrist."

There was a collective gasp from the audience. The camera man came in to get a close up of both of the boy's wrists. Blaine pulled Kurt in for a kiss that lasted much longer than was prudent on TV. They could edit it later, Blaine decided, if they really had a problem with it. As they moved apart, everyone cheered loudly at the shocking announcement.

"Tell me everything," said Leslie. Blaine and Kurt took turns sharing their perspective on what had happened. They had agreed to leave certain things out, like Kurt hiding in the bathroom and Blaine wanting to punch Rachel in the face.

"True love triumphs," she said. "What now?"

"I know it was a formality, but in keeping with tradition, I proposed and Kurt accepted. We will be getting married shortly in a small private ceremony. We are still sorting a few things out." Blaine would need to be back on the set in a month. They still needed to decide if they wanted to live in Blaine's condo or get a house before school registration started so they would know what school Kurt would be attending next fall. Blaine was set on staying in the condo. Kurt wanted a house so they could make as much noise as they wanted. He figured they were two or three more noise complaints away from being asked to move. Kurt wasn't trying to be loud on purpose. Getting Kurt to scream with pleasure was now one of Blaine's specialities and Kurt would work it to his advantage.

"What about the bracelet?" She gestured to the famous pink cuff.

"It's served its purpose. It kept my love safe until I could find him." At least half the audience said "Awwww." Blaine got a wicked glint in his eyes. "But I like having it on. My wrist feels naked with out it. And it was a gift from a friend. I had her make one for Kurt."

"Dear," said Kurt through slightly gritted teeth, "not all of us can coordinate our outfits with hot pink." He would just have to blow Blaine six times a day until he forgot all about the bracelet.

"But we'd look so cute together," he teased. "Don't worry, Baby, I got yours in a different color." He pulled a cuff out of his pocket. The deign was identical to Blaine's, but the one he got for Kurt was a soft blue grey close to the color of his sub's eyes.

Blaine had so much love in his eyes, Kurt wanted to swoon. He would wear the bracelet because it was a gift from the man he loved. And because his Blaine had the sense not to get him a pink one. No way in hell would he have worn a bright pink bracelet all the time. Even if he was ordered to. Repeatedly. Blaine may be the Dom, but Kurt wore the pants in the relationship.


On the extremely slim chance you didn't recognize it, the song used was When I Get You Alone - glee cover. This was my first fill for the GKM, I hope I did the prompt justice and that you enjoyed it. If you want to see the original long detailed prompt, its at:

glee-kink-meme. ?thread=42808202