Yay! New Story. I want to let it speak for itself mostly, but I just want to clarify, that the parts in Italics are excerpts from the book that Kurt is writing. Everything else in the story is flashback. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out.
Endless thanks to my beta, julesmonster. I'm really enjoying re-living the 90s with you!
Come say hi on tumblr, practical-amanda
"Congratulations Mr. Hummel-Anderson," Blaine said clinking his champaign flute against Kurt in a toast to their wedding night. After a beautiful ceremony and a lavish party planned by Kurt himself, the two had stumbled giddy and giggling to their honeymoon suite to spend their first night as married men. If the whistles and cat calls were anything to go by, their friends were expecting them to immediately tear each other's clothes off and go at it like they were teenagers who's parents would only be out for an hour, but that wasn't them. Just like their relationship, they preferred to be calm and loving, romantic with a slow build, so instead they were perched on the ledge of the jacuzzi style bathtub, soaking their feet in the warm water and sharing champaign and soft kisses. There would be sex, lots of sex, but that could come later.
"Same to you, Mr. Hummel-Anderson," Kurt responded, smiling a bright, wide smile with teeth that he generally reserved for Blaine only. They attempted the cliched champaign drinking move where their arms twisted together to once again reach their own mouths, but the bulk of their tuxedos combined with the fact that they were both already a bit tipsy caused them to become a tangled knot of limbs that ultimately culminated in a long kiss, flutes forgotten on the floor. "That has a nice ring to it, Hummel-Anderson," Kurt mused, pressing their foreheads together and taking a moment to breathe in his new husband.
"Mhm...it does. It definitely does."
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. This isn't where this particular story begins; it's where it ends. I'm not too fussed about spoiling the ending, though. You all know what happens anyway. You're reading this book to find out how we got here. And, I bet you can tell by how many pages there are that it wasn't easy, but I figured I'd open with the happy ending, lessen your anxiety as a reader a little bit. There is one thing this ending has in common with the beginning, however. They both happened on ordinary days that were made extraordinary.
"...That was one of the things when I decided to have my character on the show come out," Kurt read aloud from that morning's issue of Time magazine. The Hummel-Adams apartment had never been all that news obsessed, but today was different. April 14, 1997, the day after Ellen Degeneres changed television forever. "I knew I was going to have to come out too. But I didn't want to talk about it until the show was done. And you know, I watched my friend Melissa [Etheridge] come out, and..."
"Damn, Kurt. You picked some day to start a career in the television industry," Wade interrupted. Ordinarily Kurt would have snapped at him, but there was really no point in reading any further. The most important part of the article was right at the start. Wade slid a mug of coffee towards his room mate and sat down across the table from him. "Those fat cats in their fancy studios are going to have to learn what people in our line of work figured out a long time ago."
"And what's that?" Kurt asked, lifting one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"That us queens are going to rule the world one day," Wade said, lifting his mug up to Kurt's for a clink.
Kurt had to admit: it was pretty exciting. Kurt was a stylist, and if for no other reason that they would probably go bankrupt without them, the fashion industry was miles ahead of most in terms of accepting gays. He wasn't about to bring a date to the company Christmas party, but he was generally accepted, and his extra-fabulous style had never been an impediment to his employment.
He had actually been extremely nervous about starting his first day at a new job. After years of working as an underling for Vogue's head stylist, Kurt had finally landed a job with a little bit of power of his own. He was going to be the new Chief of Wardrobe for the popular teen drama, Dalton. He was excited to be in charge for once, but he was not so excited to leave the relative safety of Vogue's accepting offices. Plain and simple: neon holdover fashion from the early nineties might get you harassed or even fired, but liking cock wouldn't.. Kurt wasn't sure if the recent news story was making him more or less nervous, but either way, he knew that as first days go, this was bound to be interesting.
I mean, gays on TV weren't unheard of, per say, but to have a character that was out, proud, and not having the shit kicked out of him or her, was big news. Don't get me wrong, I was a big Ricky fan (and no matter what anyone says, I did not just watch My So Called Life to ogle Jordan Catalano. That was just a fortunate perk), and I think it was good, important even, to show the horrors of gay bashing on a teen drama like that, but seeing a happy, well adjusted Lesbian on the small screen; that was something else entirely.
"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm the new Chief of Wardrobe. I think I'm supposed to be meeting with..." Kurt squinted down at the piece of scrap paper in his hand, "...Susan Wall?"
"Yes, she told me to expect you," the woman at reception stood up abruptly at took Kurt's coat. "She's in a meeting right now, but she told me to send you right to room thirteen for a fitting with one of the main cast. Your predecessor finished all of the clothing until episode four. You need to finish the tailoring for that episode and start on the next one," the woman said, thrusting a map of the building into his hand and sitting back down behind her desk.
Kurt rolled his eyes at the woman's brusqueness, but he was glad that her particularly heinously painted nails, that she was now vigorously filing, distracted him somewhat from the job he was about to start. He knew when he had signed the contract that he was coming in during the middle of the season. Things were bound to be hectic, but he wasn't expecting to be thrown into things without so much as a 'hello how are you'. It didn't phase him much, though. He was used to fast paced world of fashion. That was, it didn't phase him until he turned the door knob into number thirteen and saw who was standing there waiting to be fitted.
"My morning coffee would be much appreciated, Pamela. You know just how I like it," the girl, Pamela Kurt assumed, turned an impressive shade of scarlet when the request was followed by an impressively disarming wink. Even Kurt, who found the overly obvious flirtation a little nauseating, wasn't immune to Blaine Anderson's charm. "You're the best!" he added as the girl was scurrying off to do her job.
Blaine Anderson; America's most dapper teenage heartthrob—well, he wasn't a teenager. He was probably around Kurt's age, but he was still playing a high schooler, so his fan base reflected as much. He was the star of Dalton, the lead of the fictional high school's be-blazered A Capella choir, and objectively, one of the most gorgeous men in America. Kurt knew that he would be up close and personal with the star at some point. He had no idea it would be this soon.
"You must be Ellen's replacement," Blaine said, noticing Kurt for the first time. He had dropped the exaggerated flirtation, but a playfulness remained in his demeanor. Kurt doubted he ever totally lost it. "Susan told me you would be here."
"That's me," Kurt said, wasting no time getting his sewing equipment out. Blaine was already wearing his wardrobe, and Kurt's appraising eye was already making mental adjustments. "I'm Kurt. If you would just step up onto this platform, we can get started." Kurt didn't know how to talk to celebrities, but being professional—that was something he knew how to do.
"Right down to business then," Blaine said with a chuckle as he hopped up onto the step stool.
Kurt nodded and got right to work pinning and marking where the garments needed to be fixed. He was determined to make a good impression. He only looked up when he could feel Blaine's eyes on him, and almost before Kurt could catch him, the other man was averting his gaze abruptly. It was a little odd, but Kurt didn't think much of it. He was used to standing out and being stared at, but when Kurt looked up a second time, he caught Blaine staring again. This time, he didn't look away fast enough, "what?" Kurt asked.
Blaine, seemingly shaken out of his reverie, blinked rapidly and started picking at a thread on his t-shirt, "oh...um nothing," Blaine said, dropping his polished air for only a moment before re-becomming the guy that Kurt was used to seeing on his television screen. "Just watching the master at work," he added, cheekily.
Kurt gave him a odd look, but accepted it and kept working. He was no expert on the matter, but if he didn't know any better, he'd say that Blaine was checking him out. It was only the odd glance, but the way his gaze lingered on his ass, and the fact that he kept wetting his lips, made Kurt almost certain that something unexpected was going on. He shrugged it off, though. He would just file it away of overly dissect with Wade later. "You're all set," Kurt said, once again seeming to startle Blaine out of his thoughts.
"Alright then, Kurt," Blaine said, gathering his things. "Thanks a lot. I'll be seeing you," and with one last wave, Kurt's first encounter with Blaine Anderson was officially over.
That was the first time Blaine and I ever met, and no matter how many times we go over the events of that day, he insists that I was imagining things. I swear he was the worst closet case the world has ever seen. He swears that he wasn't staring at my butt. I guess the world will never know.
"Have you ever thought about how many public figures are in the closet?" Kurt mused later that evening. He was sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal for dinner and watching as Wade slowly transformed into Unique for that night's gig. Kurt had met Wade for the first time when he was in his drag persona, and it had taken a while for Kurt to get used to his less fabulous counterpart, but by now, it was second nature.
"Of course I do," he said, smacking his lips together to spread out the lipstick. "What do you think I'm doing when I watch C-Span. You know at least a quarter of those morons in congress are hiring rent boys instead of hookers."
Kurt rolled his eyes, "not those kinds of public figures," he said, taking a particularly large spoonful of cereal, "I mean like actors and stuff."
"Is this your way of telling me you had a particularly lucky bathroom break on your first day of work today?" Wade asked. "Because I'm not about to play guess who right now. You better spill."
Kurt let out an over dramatic sigh, "no, of course not. Don't be ridiculous," Kurt replied. "You've been watching way too much Sunset Beach. I was just thinking is all."
Wade gave Kurt an unconvinced look, "alright, I know when you're not ready to spill," he said, tugging his wig on to complete the transformation. "You just let Auntie Unique know when you're ready to say whose basket you've been getting into."
Before Kurt could come up with a sassy retort, he was out the door, "drag queens!" Kurt sighed under his breath. Try as he might, though, Kurt couldn't get Blaine Anderson's stare out of his head. He had to have been imagining things. There was just no way that Blaine was gay. He had half of the women in America fawning over him. No, Kurt was just being stupid. He needed to forget everything that happened today. He needed to concentrate on his job, and most of all he needed to stay far way from thoughts of Blaine Anderson.